#sorry the amount of people I’ve had to mute because they’re like why is so and so this I’m so tired of seeing it this

[inkspottie]

You know it’s wild when you think the tumblr fandom is much better than the Twitter fandom. I get exhausted on Twitter with fnaf like holy moly do people bitch and whine about certain characters and condemn them for having a unified headcanon.

[alygatorwrites]

can I request a lil something? during the end of the manga or after the timeskip if you haven't read it yet, reiner still has feelings for historia and reader has one-sided feelings for him.

pieck gives reiner a small hint, saying he's wasting time while there's someone close to him that cares for him and points to you. he doesn't understand at first and maybe is conflicted about his feelings for you because of historia. reader is cool about it as she doesn't expect him to reciprocate her feelings.

a rollercoaster of emotions later, maybe there is a happy ending tho? i am curious to see what you can come up with 😭😭 i have dreaming of this scenario before bed and i can't help but get jealous of his crush on historia abjdsndks maybe you can help reiner reciprocate reader-chan's feelings or not

thank u so much aly 💖🥺

reciprocation

pairing: reiner braun x reader

a/n: OMG yesss! honestly, i was kinda annoyed at how reiner still had a crush on historia. i know that isayama wanted to show how everything went back to normal, but i was hoping that reiner would have a bigger role in the allied nations instead of being "dumbed down" to having an obsession with her. MAYBE THATS JUST THE JEALOUSY SPEAKING LMAO 😭 i was hoping this would be longer, although school has been killing me so im really sorry!! i hope its okay 💗💕 thank you honey!

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as reiner is handed historia’s letter, you fold your hands on the table and watch him without a word. when he reads the lines and smells the parchment - jean saying something snarky afterward - you say nothing.

you want reiner to be happy: you want to see him at ease like this more, face soft as the leaf of the page flits from his pinched fingers.

and so you let the man speak about historia like she’s a damn goddess, gushing over her handwriting, and keep your goddamn mouth shut. ignore your jealousy. your feelings.

the truth is, you’re in love with reiner.

you can’t even remember how it happened, but you can remember the first time you looked into those hazel eyes, and how you knew that they were going to stick with you for eternity.

you’ve come to accept his crush on the queen, though. reciprocation was never an option in your mind.

when jean begins to chew reiner out for lusting after a married woman, and reiner says something about jean being a horse, pieck’s gaze lands on you. “you’re rather quiet,” she says softly, resting her head on her palm.

you shrug, turning away from her. “i’m just tired.”

pieck catches your chin between her lithe fingers, and turns you to face her with a tiny smile. the young woman is very perceptive, and you’ve known her long enough. 

that’s when you notice the twinkle in her eye. she’s planning something.

pieck releases your jaw then, sitting up in her chair. “you’re wasting your time, reiner,” she says suddenly. “there’s already someone you know who cares for you.”

you pretend to not hear pieck - and definitely pretend you don’t see her faintly point at you through your peripheral. the movement of her fingers is barely there, but you catch it.

damn you, pieck.

the way you’re now pinned underneath armin, jean, connie, and reiner’s stares makes your stomach tie itself into knots with bubbling reluctance. shit, this is awkward. you want to run away.

still, you peer over to study reiner’s reaction. he looks confused at first, the contours of his face unreadable. you swear you see connie facepalm at the man’s cluelessness.

then reiner’s expression slowly changes: his eyes widen in awe, lips parting slightly, and brows knitting together. he seems genuinely surprised - and conflicted.

conflicted? why?

there’s no time to explain yourself though, because the door creaks open and annie steps in. her words fall on your deaf ears, and when everyone stands up to leave, you’re the first one out of the room. work beckons you as always.

two days pass.

you’ve been busy filling out tons of paperwork pertaining to the allied nations, so when you’re finally given a day off, you take it with open arms. 

freedom at last.

you lean against a bench outside of headquarters, enjoying the salty breeze that flutters along your skin. it’s dusk, the sky covered in a gradient of neon colors as the sun dips below the horizon.

you haven’t seen reiner since that day in the conference room. you wonder how he’s doing, what he’s thinking, how he’s holding up -

“hey.”

speak of the devil. you glance over your shoulder toward the voice, low and familiar.

reiner approaches you, clad in his uniform: the suit hugs his large frame perfectly, showing every flex of his muscles, and his blonde hair is neatly parted. the black tie looped around his neck just pulls it all together. it has you weak at the knees every. single. time.

“hey,” you answer, giving reiner a smile as he stops beside you.

and that’s when your heart lurches at the sight of him.

the sunset highlights reiner’s profile in gold, a heavenly shine that settles upon his blonde lashes and the flawless slope of his nose. the flecks in his irises sparkle – a beautiful mixture of soft browns and muted greens. the only thing you can do right now is admire the man. 

his words are what breaks you out of your daydream.

“work has been crazy lately, huh?” reiner says, focused on the candy-floss clouds and their fluffy shapes.

“well - yeah, pretty much. i don’t want to look at a pen or a piece of paper ever again.”

“that bad?”

“you have no idea. i almost regret marley and paradis reconciling.”

reiner chuckles gently at the joke, but it’s strained. his forehead remains creased, and he’s not really smiling. the emotion there is more … doubtful. it’s like he’s having some sort of inner conflict.

hopefully reiner’s not acting cautious because of the other day. you know he doesn’t return your feelings, and that’s totally okay. you’re happy enough being with him like this. “i’m not mad or anything, y’know.”

reiner stiffens at that. there’s a white flash of teeth when he chews on his lower lip. “i know.”

“good,” you hum, breathing out a sigh of relief. your core twists with envy when you force a grin. bite it back. tease him like always. “so about historia … ”

reiner’s eyes go wide almost comically, and you hear the breath in his lungs leave his firm chest in one exhale. there’s a light blush staining his cheeks now. it’s funny; he’s so goddamn big, yet he’s such a teddy bear.

“y-yeah,” reiner mutters. you observe the way his brows pinch together as he awkwardly shifts in place. it takes a while before the man composes himself again, which is strange.

is he scared or something? what the hell?

“pieck,” reiner hesitates for a moment. the golden strands of his hair ruffle in the wind and he appears ... well, lost. “was she being serious?”

the question is a shocker - jeez, he could have at least let you prepare yourself. a firm ‘no’ almost slips out, but you’ve never been much of a liar. not to reiner, anyway. crossing your arms against your chest, you inhale sharply and nod. avoid staring at him face-to-face. “yep.”

“ … why me?”

reiner says the words with a mixture of spite and anguish, a casual and rumbling voice. you immediately turn your head, frowning. “what?”

“i’ve done so many horrible things.” reiner exhales heavily and stares down at his hands; perhaps he’s imagining all the blood they’ve been stained with. “i betrayed everyone. i killed innocent people - all because i was selfish.”

it’s no surprise that reiner is broken after everything he’s been through, but it pains you to know that he continues to suffer in silence. whatever war is raging inside his ribcage tears him apart piece by piece, and you wish you could carry the burden. 

there’s probably nothing you can say to convince reiner that he was just a kid, a victim of circumstance. there’s nothing that can persuade him to see himself the way you do.

so you decide to tell reiner why you love him. 

you explain the amount of admiration you hold for him. tell him that you love the way he just wants to be someone his comrades can lean on, like a big brother. tell him that you think he’s the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen and how you think he deserves the world.

the way you spill your guts out snaps every nerve in your body. you don’t say everything you want to – but you tell him enough. a dark flush spreading across your face, you find the courage to look at him.

the world seems to stop on its axis when you find reiner staring right on back. the intensity of his eyes is stunning; they’re lit up with astonishment and affection.

god, the affection. you see it clear as day. maybe one of the greatest regrets in his life is how he forced himself to see you only as a friend.

that’s when he reaches out to you.

reiner retracts his hand twice, unsure, before slowly brushing his fingertips against yours. the touch is so feather-light that you almost can’t feel it. it’s a test - he’s waiting to see if you pull away. you can’t even move if you wanted to, because his fond gaze keeps you rooted to the spot before him. 

when you don’t recoil, reiner finally moves to gently hold your hand; his palm is so much bigger than yours, and your fingers slot together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle’s final piece. 

heart thrumming like a hummingbird has been stuffed into your chest, you’re almost at a loss for words and come to a realization.

this utterly amazing man likes you. always has. 

but reiner shoved away the feelings for one simple reason; you deserved ‘better.’ focusing on the old crush he had on historia was a distraction - an attempt to convince himself to stop thinking about you.

because looking at you everyday and not being able to act upon his feelings was too painful.

“is this okay?” reiner asks lowly. there’s a slight pinkness to his cheeks, the color of a selfless love.

by some miracle, you manage to nod dumbly. “yeah, of course. it’s fine.” it’s amazing is what you actually want to say.  

reiner squeezes your hand at the reassurance, a sigh escaping from his throat. “i really—”

you wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. reiner just searches your profile for signs of discomfort, and then untwines your hands to bravely swipe a thumb along the length of your cheekbone. 

there’s no time to speak because he’s already leaning down.  

the sensation of reiner’s lips pressing against yours lights your skin ablaze; you can feel the curling flames of passion sear your soul, made even more intense by the warmth of the sunlight on your back.

it’s natural, it’s tender, it’s warm.

reiner’s breath rattles into your mouth when you rest both palms against his solid chest and deepen the kiss. the musky smell of his aftershave and cologne envelops you completely, and fuck, it’s so good. your arms wrap around him, fingers passing over the sharp slopes of his shoulder blades.

as much as you wish the kiss could go on endlessly, there are people gathering outside. avoiding any unwanted attention from nosy strangers is very much appreciated.

you pull away to nuzzle your nose into reiner, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, protective arms moving to loop around your waist. it’s such an intimate caress that it sparks your brain into overdrive.

as the rushing sound of the breeze comes back to your ears through the quiet, you tuck the kiss away to be remembered forever. that’s all there is to it. being close to reiner like this - swaying together like wildflowers in the wind - is more important than anything else.

“i like you,” reiner murmurs.

the suddenness of it makes you laugh, and you can feel the upward quirk of reiner’s lips - a whisper of a peaceful smile and a sweet, sweet promise.

[calpalirwin]

Phantom Pain

Summary: Trauma bonding turns into a full blown crush with Bucky

Word Count: 2.9k

And away, and away we go!

__

You heard the startled gasps behind you as you lowered your body before pulling yourself up on the pull up bar again. “Yes?” you questioned, repeating another rep.

“I-I-I-” a teenage boy's voice stuttered. “Mr. Stark!” he yelled in slight panic.

You sighed, letting go of the bar and landing on your feet. “Yes?” you repeated, turning to face the lanky teenager with his mop of brown hair, and his companion, a girl a few years older, stifling giggles into her hands, both of their cheeks flushed. “Oh,” you said in realization. “You must be Peter. Uh, Tony’s in the lab, I think.”

Peter nodded mutely, before quickly dashing out of the training room, leaving you face to face with the young woman. “Gay,” you said simply. “And I think Vision’s with Tony.”

Her blush deepened, as she too, hightailed it out of the room with a muttered “Tony has a brother?”

You chuckled quietly to yourself. Of course your brother wouldn’t have told his newest members about you. Something about it not being vital information, and liking the shock value of it.

“And this is the training room,” a voice you did recognize said as Steve came into your line of sight, a man matching his stature trailing behind him silently. “Oh, hey, Stark.”

“Capsicle,” you greeted with a salute.

“Stark?” the other man asked in confusion. “I thought-”

“Fortunately there’s two of us,” you corrected. “Or unfortunately, depending on your opinion of Starks in general. Y/N,” you introduced yourself, offering out your hand.

“Bucky,” the man said, shaking your hand.

“Nightmares, again?” Steve asked you, his eyes glancing about the room.

“Sometimes you frighten me with how observant you are, Rogers,” you said grimly.

“Nightmares?” Bucky questioned, intrigue painting the features of his perfectly sculpted face.

“An unfortunate lingering side effect of my time in the Army, yeah,” you explained. “Something I’m sure you can relate to,” you added with a pointed glance at Bucky’s left arm which was completely metal, your mind already curious to how it worked, and how to make it better. “Working out helps. Something about physical exertion canceling out mental exertion.”

“Well, I might have to join you some time. See if your theory holds up.”

You held out your arms, gesturing about the giant training room. “Feel free. Everything here is open 24/7 to accommodate the mad geniuses and PTSD freaks.”

“And which one are you?” Bucky asked. And you knew it was a stupid question given what little information you had already provided him with. But you could also recognize a flirting edge when you heard one.

“I feel like the answer’s obvious. But, in the event that it’s not, I’m both. Pleasure to meet you, Bucky. And welcome to Avengers headquarters.”

~~~

A couple nights later, you were in the lab tinkering about, when you saw Bucky walk by in gym shorts and a tank top, his hair pulled back in a small bun. “Can’t sleep, huh?” you called out.

His body tensed as he whirled around, relaxing when he saw it was you. “Yeah. Thought I’d try out your theory.”

“It’s a good theory,” you assured, before refocusing on what you’d been working on.

“You have a lot of faith in a theory I’ve yet to test for myself,” Bucky said, stepping into the lab with you.

“I don’t do faith. I do facts,” you replied bluntly.

“Mmm, then how do you know it’s a good theory?”

“A good theory isn't whether it’s proven to be correct or not. A good theory is about being able to be repeated and replicated. Tested multiple times over and over. My theory just also happens to be correct.”

“Wow, you are a Stark.”

“I’m not an idiot, is what you mean. But rest assured I don’t have the same level of arrogance my brother inherited from our father. Or at least, I like to believe I don’t. But, results don’t lie. The physical exertion that comes from working out is enough to distract the brain from the mental exertion that comes from unwanted memories. Is it perfect? No, because it’s not a cure. But it does well enough anyway. And you can take my word for it. Or Rhodey’s, or Sam’s, or Steve’s. And that’s just the military crew. Or, you can test it for yourself. As I said, it’s a good theory. Very testable.”

Bucky’s tongue clicked in his cheek. “Mmm, and if it’s such a good theory, why are you here in the lab instead of in the training room?”

“A distraction, is a distraction, is a distraction. And I have work to do.”

“And what is it that you’re working on?” he asked, stepping closer to peer over your shoulder.

“Prosthetic limbs for amputees. Ones that aren’t hunks of metal. No offense.”

“None taken. I didn’t exactly get a say in the matter.”

“Right… Sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize. Something more… realistic looking would be nice. But the metal’s worked so far. Enhances already enhanced abilities.”

A shudder went down your spine. “Right. Super soldier strength mixed in with whatever tech is loaded up in that thing. I’ve taken a lot of hits in my day that I’d hate to experience again, but I’d do it if it meant a guarantee of never being on the receiving end of being hit by that. Like… the damage you were able to inflict on Tony, even in his suit…” you let out a low whistle. “Damn… no thanks.”

“Sorry? I think?”

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Please. It’s not that he didn’t deserve it. The amount of times I wish I could clock him myself… My only regret was having not been there to actually see it.”

“Why do I get the feeling you and Tony don’t actually get along?”

“Oh, we do. It’s just… typical sibling shit, I suppose. We had different ways of coping with our parents dying. He went the standard billionaire spoiled brat route. I went to the Army. He took over the company. I stayed in the Army. He realized the damage the company was actually doing and became Iron Man. I was part of that damage.”

“Shit…”

Again, you waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s my older brother. I love him. He’s rectified a lot of his past by helping turn Stark Industries into the Avengers. He's, dare I say, gained a conscience. But he’s also far from perfect. Still too arrogant for his own good. But I like him a lot better these days than I used to. I mean, I’m here.”

“So… you work for him? Doing what exactly?”

“Yes, and no. I live and work here, yes. But I don’t necessarily work for my brother. I help him and Bruce out a lot. Perks of not being an Avenger myself means I’m here to keep working when they’re gone. But, for the most part I keep to myself doing my own project.”

“Right, the prosthetic limbs. Personal reasons?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Seen my fair share of wounded vets. And seen my fair share of their struggle with shitty prosthetics. And even if they are complete shit, they’re also expensive. But I’m in a position where I can make non-shitty ones and, pun not intended, not have them cost people an arm and a leg. So, that’s what I do. Each prototype gets me closer and closer to making them as realistic as possible. Restoring range of motion you won’t get with cheap plastic wrapped around steel. It’s like… a complete limb transplant. Or that’s the ultimate goal anyway. Make prosthetics so real it’s like you never lost a limb in the first place.”

“That’s… noble of you.”

You shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for broken things.”

Bucky smiled at that.

~~~

For the next handful of months, it wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to find you awake in the lab, or for you to find him awake in the training room.

Some nights, the two of you would work out your frustrations of the memories that haunted you both, and you’d tease him about how it wasn’t fair you always drenched through your shirt while he barely broke a sweat, smiling at the way he’d laugh.

Other nights, the two of you would swap war stories while he watched you work in the lab, and when you gathered up the courage to ask to run tests on how the tech in his arm worked to further your own research, he willingly obliged.

“So… were you just an enlisted soldier, or an officer?” he asked one night while you tinkered away.

“An officer. Made First Lieutenant.”

“That’s just below Steve. Which…”

“Is still lower than Sergeant, yes,” you laughed. “Technically anyway. But as an officer, I would still outrank you.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… no offense, but First Lieutenant isn’t exactly brag worthy. I imagine you meant to go further. What happened? Was it the damage you mentioned with Tony?”

You nodded. “Yeah. The same accident that started his whole Iron Man gimmick was the same accident that ended my career.”

Bucky nodded, and you knew he wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to pry or overstep. And you were grateful for that. It was one thing to own up that your PTSD stemmed from an incident that ended your military career. It was also one thing to own up to how your experience in the military drove you towards creating prosthetic limbs. But to admit that there was a deep personal connection between the two? That wasn’t something you liked to fess up to. “I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said, feeling the need to say something about your half confession. To acknowledge it without asking more.

You smiled wryly at him. “It’s f-” Your face twisted, and your fingers white-knuckled the table as pain flashed through your leg.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “You okay?” he asked, moving around the table towards you, his hands hovering nearby in case you fell.

“Knife!” you gasped out, gritting your teeth and humming loudly to keep from screaming out in the pain you knew wasn’t real. “Get me a knife!”

Bucky stood there, frozen, staring at you in horror.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you barked at him. “I know you have a knife on you! Give it to me! That’s an order, Sergeant!”

That snapped Bucky into action. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rummaging in his pockets. “Here!”

The sharp steel glinted in the lights as you took it from him and promptly shoved it deep into your right shin.

“What the fuck?!” Bucky yelped, jumping back. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” he repeated when no blood came pouring out of the wound as you yanked the knife back out.

“Aaaahhhh,” you sighed in relief, the pain ebbing away. You relaxed the tension in your body, breathing slowly. “Fuck… hate when that happens.”

“What… the… actual… fuck?” Bucky asked for a third time in a low whisper.

“Relax, it’s fake,” you said, flashing the knife. “See? No blood.”

“I- I-” he stammered.

“It’s called phantom limb pain. Happens in amputees all the time.” You took a seat, pushing up your pant leg to your knee, detaching the prosthetic and tossing it uselessly onto the work table. “Piece of shit,” you muttered, before pulling a tape-recorder out of your pocket. “Prototype 27. Failure, as of,” you spared a glance down at the date on your watch, speaking that into the tape recorder as well. “What?” you asked Bucky who was staring at you with his mouth hanging open.

“That explains… so much. But… why didn’t you just tell me?”

You shrugged. “It’s not something I tell people. Lost my leg in an explosion caused by weapons my family made? Yeah, not exactly a conversation starter.”

“I get that, but… c’mon. It’s me.” He gestured at his left arm.

“Yes, you who- and please don’t take offense to this- doesn’t remember the trauma of losing his arm, and has never experienced the pain that is phantom limb pain.”

“I don’t remember the trauma thanks to years of more trauma that is being brain-washed, and having my mind controlled,” he replied in a clipped tone.

“Yes, the entire world is aware of your trauma, Barnes. Must be nice to have people be aware of what you’ve gone through.”

“People would be aware of what you’ve gone through too, if you’d tell us instead of hiding in jeans and sweatpants!”

“Why would I tell people?! For sympathy?! Or to hear them tell me that I deserved it?! Because news flash, both of those outcomes fucking suck!”

His face crumpled. “Why would anyone think you deserved this?”

You scoffed at his naivety. “It’s poetic justice, Bucky. My own family took my leg. They took Tony’s heart, too, but hey! Look what he made as a result! Isn’t it fuckin’ marvelous?! Tony Stark loses his heart, but gains a soul. Y/N Stark. Loses his leg, and nobody cares.” The words were bitter on your tongue.

“You don’t strike me as the pity party type.”

“I’m not. That’s why I don’t tell people. And yes, maybe there’s a selfish part of me that does what I do strictly for me. Maybe I never would have thought to do all this if I wasn’t an amputee myself. But I’m here, and I’m doing it. And I’m not going to use my story to gain attention and credit that I don’t even want in the first place. Tony thrives in the spotlight. Me? Never been my thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think your project’s pretty great. And I don’t see your personal attachment to it as a hindrance. If anything, I bet it pushes you further. To keep trying, even when what you have is already worlds better than what’s available already. But I also get wanting to keep parts of you to yourself. The sympathy vote isn’t the best feeling.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled. “And I’m sorry for what I said about how it must be nice to have people aware of your trauma. Well… I’m sorry for how I said it. There’s quite a laundry list of things that will turn me into an asshole, and phantom limb pain ranks pretty high on that list. But I didn’t mean it as an attack, and if it came across that way, I do apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it. To an extent you’re right. The whole world knowing what happened to me… it dulls the shock value of a lot of things. Justifies a lot of my actions. So, for the most part, it’s incredibly beneficial. But sometimes I wish I could just… I dunno. Be Bucky without people making their assumptions about what that means.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I try to make it a habit of drawing my own conclusions about people rather than listening to the assumptions others have made about them. So, at least with me, you can be Bucky, and that can be however you want it to look.”

“Thanks. I’d uh… I’d like that.” He smiled softly at you, and you smiled back, watching as a blush crept over his face. “Um… Are you going to need help back to your room? Cuz I can help, if you need me to.” The blush grew darker as he shifted his eyes about the room.

“Uh…” you stammered, a blush coming to your own face. Normally when you tossed aside a rejected prosthetic, you either stayed in the lab until you made a new one, reattached the useless one and begrudgingly dealt with it until you felt up to making a new one, or, in super rare cases when you were sure you were alone, wheeled yourself about the headquarters in a chair. But, here was Bucky, offering to help hobble you off to your room. And the thought of him helping support your weight, or God forbid carry you was enough to make your heart sped up. “Even without the weight of a leg, I’m still not exactly light, or small,” you told him. You weren’t as tall as Bucky, that was true, and you certainly didn’t have super soldier serum running through your veins. But you were still very much the standard rugged American soldier type with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles of your own.

Bucky just scoffed at the notion before picking you up in his arms.

“Jesus, fuck!” you exclaimed, throwing an arm around his neck to help support your weight as he headed for the door of the lab. “I swear if you drop me…”

Bucky chuckled, his chest rumbling into your side. “Relax. I’m not gonna drop you. Now, tell me where I’m going.”

You rattled off the quickest route to your room, both hating the vulnerability of being carried in his arms, and loving the security of it.

“See?” he beamed proudly, as he set you on your bed. “Told ya I wouldn’t drop you.”

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.”

“Bucky, wait,” you called out when he turned to leave. “Um… Would you mind maybe staying?”

“Here? With you? In your room?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the 1940s gentleman thing is real charming.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s um… You know I’m gay, right?”

“Well… That makes the, uh… oh, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but that makes having a crush on you a lot easier. Or a lot worse, depending on how things go.”

He blinked at you in confusion, not sure if he was hearing you correctly.

“I like you, Bucky. So are you gonna stay?”

He grinned, happily walking back over to you. “I like you too. And yeah, I’ll stay.”

__

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[lilxberry]

The Guilt Of A Lover - Natasha Romanoff

Synopsis;

You tend to be quite off-put by other women when you’re with the love of your life, even feeling guilty when there truly is no need to for you to feel so. Natasha herself tells you as such.

Warnings: Lil’ bit of language. Jealous Natasha. Oblivious and paranoid reader. Pretty much it tbh.

Words: 2,072

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

_______________

You sat there, admiring your red headed girlfriend as she took down yet another agent in training. You were always in awe of how he body moved when she was up against an opponent. Plus, you had a great view of her ass right now so were as happy as can be during your break from training. 

Natasha looked at you and sent a cheeky, subtle wink towards you. You grinned at her like a fool. She was in every way the perfect woman for you. She’s the woman 

Just as you stood up and took a final gulp of water from your bottle, ending your break, one of the trainees, a young blonde girl, steeping in front of you, blocking your path.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could train with me and help me out with my stance.” Josie-Jessie-Jade, you hadn’t really cared to remember her name, asked as she played with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her slender, manicured finger. A tell-tale sign of flirting which you hadn’t noticed.

But Natasha did.

The girl had been flirting with you non-stop during the training sessions you helped lead. She had always found an issue which you just so happened to be the only one who could fix it. ‘Not like there’s any other superiors she could ask.’ Natasha thought bitterly as she watched on from the corner of her eye.

“Uh-sure. Why don’t you get into position and I’ll see what needs you’re doing wrong.” You instructed the young girl who giggled as she turned to get back on to the matt.

Once there, she plants her feet atop the cool surface, raising her arms out in front of her and bending her knees ever so slightly, sticking her ass further out than nessicary. 

You sighed heavily through your nose as you witness her positioning. ‘How did this girl even get as far as she has with S.H.I.E.L.D..’ You leisurely walked towards her, noting what she should do to make improvements.

“For starters, your knees are bent too much, that can throw you off balance.” You tap her knees until you’re satisfied with the amount they’re straightened. You proceeded to move her feet so they face a more efficient direction. Lastly, you moved to behind her, ready to correct her flimsy, half-arsed positioning of her arms.

“Your arms should be more bent. Bring your elbows towards your body, this will help you protect yourself.” You gripped her elbows with a gentle but firm grip, pulling them back inwards towards her torso. 

As your arms reach around each side of her, she pushes herself back into you, her back being forced to come into contact with your chest. “Like this?” She feigns innocence as she asks in a sickly-sweet voice, puffing her chest out, making them fall into your line of sight. 

You clear your throat and quickly detach yourself from her, making sure you advert your gaze from her eyes as she turns around. “Yeah, just like that. Keep practicing.” With that, you walk out of the training room hastily, leaving Josie-Jess-Jade confused and frustrated.

Natasha notices your quick departure and frowns, concerned about the one she loves. 

She turns her gaze towards the younger girl, a burning anger in her eyes as she stares for a moment. Natasha swore she would find out what was wrong later. 

Oh boy, she sure did. 

_______________

Natasha had yet to see you all day after training had concluded. She could tell something had upset you and had a possible reason as to why you were so quick to exit the room.

Ever since you two had started dating, you had always been mindful and concerned of your girlfriend, putting her before yourself. She knew that you hated the idea of hurting her or betraying her and whenever you thought you had, you would be over cumbered with guilt and then profusely apologize after some time to scold and punish yourself with horrid thoughts.

For as long as Natasha had known you, you had never betrayed her once. The multiple occasions you’ve said you had done so was purely an overreaction on your part. 

--- flashback ---

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look at her. You know I’d never look at anyone else in the way I look at you. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.” You spoke as you buried your face into the crook of her neck, holding her tightly, afraid that if you loosened your vice like grip around her waist for a millisecond, she’d leave in an instant. You’re breathing was erratic, clearly panicking about whether she’ll leave you ‘cause of your ‘slip up’.

“Y/N, seriously, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Natasha soothed into your ear, stroking your hair gently. “Just because you happened to look up from your phone the same time as that girl bent down, it doesn’t mean you messed up. It’s not like you were actively looking at her tits baby.” She cooed, trying to add humour into the situation but you clearly felt just as guilty as you did before.

“Babe, the fact that you looked away instantly just shows you not only have respect for me and our relationship, but to other women as well is one of the reasons I love you but please stop feeling guilty for something that’s not worth it.” Natasha continued.

You planted a small kiss upon Natasha’s shoulder before fully raising your head to look down at your girlfriend. “I love you.” You spoke quietly, afraid what would happen if your voice raised even a decibel higher.

Natasha looked into your eyes, still seeing the guilt you hold behind them and sighed. “I love you too, Y/N. Now, how about we finally head down to the living room for movie night?” She smiled as a small smile had broken on to your face also.

“Sure.” You grabbed her hand, interlocking your fingers with her before leaving your shared bedroom and heading to the elevator, ready to wrap your arms around your girlfriend on the couch whilst you and the rest of the Avengers watch Short Circuit.

--- end of flashback ---

Natasha has always loved your honestly and dislike towards disloyalty within relationships but sometimes, she felt as though you sometimes overreacted when someone flirts with you. 

She hates how you beat yourself up when you feel guilty about something you couldn’t have done anything about in a situation you were thrown into unwillingly.

As she walked along the hallways of the compound, she noted Steve, Bucky, Sam and Clint further up in the direction she was headed towards talking. Once Natasha got closer to the quartet of men, she asked of your whereabouts. 

“Last I heard, she was down in the lab, sitting quietly with Bruce and Tony.” Clint had answered his friend. The other three men nodded in agreement.

Natasha smiled in thanks before making her way towards the main lab that usually occupies Tony, Bruce and yourself.

finally reaching the lab, she was about to open the door when she heard the voices of the three of you talking clearly.

“I still feel bad, man. Whether something was on accident or not shouldn’t be an excuse for that.” You said in a solemn, guilt-ridden tone. “What makes you think she’ll say yes to marrying me if I’m constantly looking at other people!”

Natasha’s breath hitches at the mention of marriage. You wanted to marry her. A huge grin made its way on to her face, cheeks nearly splitting at how far her lips had upturned. The rest of your conversation was all but muted to her as she thought of being your wife.

Before the three could continue with their conversation, Natasha had opened the door and alerted you and the science bros of her entrance. She smiled widely towards you whilst you looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an on-coming truck. She paced quickly towards you then surged forward to connect her lips to yours.

Your eyes had widen in shock before quickly closing as you melted into the kiss, responding to the affection with just as much emotion. You held on to her hips with a feather-like touch, as if afraid she’ll break whilst her arms snake their way around your neck, pulling you deeper into her kiss. 

Before either of your lungs could collapse in on their selves from lack of oxygen, you broke apart. She grinned up at you as you looked down at her with a dazed expression embedded into your features. You hadn’t even noticed the pair of scientists leave their lab to give you two some much needed alone time.

“So, you wanna marry me, huh?” Natasha whispered in a playful tone. The blissful and content expression was quickly wiped off of your face as she said that and was quickly replaced with a deep red blush and a look of embarrassment at the fact that you had been caught red handed.

“I-uh-I,yeah, I uh-I’ve been meaning to ask you for a month now but I guessed it was never the right time.” You chuckled and smiled sheepishly down at your girlfriend.

“Or is it because whenever you plan to ask, you “mess up” and have to apologize.” Natasha had added air quotes around mess up as she truly believed that you have never done so once. Obviously, you’d beg to differ.

You looked down guiltily, scared to look the red head in the eye. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up again. She asked for my help and then I just kinda saw them. I’m so sorry. I get if you want to bre-”

You were cut off by Natasha gently pressing her soft lips to yours, them moulding together perfectly. She pulled away just as quickly as she had initiated the kiss and leaned her forehead on yours. “Ask me.” She whispers, eyes searching your own for something neither of you knew truly what for.

“What?”

“Ask me. That is, if you still wan to marry me.”

Realisation quickly crossed your features. It was almost comical how your eyes had widened and your mouth drop open into an ‘O’ as you frantically search your pockets for the velvety box.

Soon enough, you found the cuboid container and grasped it into your hand as you retracted it from your pocket in a tight grip. You dropped down on to one knee and cleared your throat at least 20 times before you attempted to speak. 

“Natasha,” The clearing of your throat had apparently not mattered as your voice had still broken into a higher pitch when you spoke her name. Quickly clearing your throat of the dry lump, you attempted your proposal once again. “Natasha, will you marry me? I did have a whole speech about two papers long but I forgot it, sorry.” Your sheepish smile barely concealed your nervousness as you waited for an answer.

“Yes, Y/N, yes I will marry you.” Natasha spoke as she nodded vigorously. You were stunned for a moment before speedily recomposing yourself and pulled the ring from the box to place upon your now fiancé’s finger. 

After you slipped the simple yet elegantly beautiful ring upon her slender, pale finger, she tugged you up with a huge burst of strength before once again plummeting her lips on to yours, kissing you feverishly, conveying both of your love for each other.

The kiss was soon broke and both your eyes had opened to reveal each others beaming smiles towards their loved one. “I think we should tell the others.” Natasha suggested.

“We already know. congratulations. Now, don’t fuck in my lab.” Tony spoke, soon followed by a scalding from Bruce and congratulations from the rest of the Avengers.

“Maybe we should do Banner and Stark a favour and keep their lab sanitary.” You chucked as you spoke. “There are a million places more comfortable that a lab for those kind of activities.”

“Well then, lead the way.” Natasha spoke with a hint of playfulness.

You smirked and grabbed the back of her thighs, signifying her to jump, which she did so gracefully, wrapping her legs around your torso and your hands move to hold her up by her ass. “Yes ma’am.”

And with that, you left with your fiancé to consummate your engagement with the love of your life, leaving behind the guilt of a non-existent issue.

_______________

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Yo I am in love with every female marvel character I swear

My first Natasha fic which I really enjoyed writing

I hope you enjoy

And as always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @knyfutureauzine! I’m grumpy we didn’t get any aftermath whump or hurt/comfort in the series.

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i.

Someone knocked on the door. It was a quiet sound, barely audible in the yard. The rough scrubbing of dirty clothes drowned out any other noise. Arms deep in soapy water, Aoi wasn’t even entirely certain she hadn’t imagined it. No one else seemed to have heard it. Not Kanao as she diligently hung every cleaned shirt. Not Sumi, Kiyo, or Naho as they swept the house, the soft pitter-patter of their feet echoing through the hallways.

Just as Aoi went back to work, she heard a second sharp rap. This time Kanao noticed as well, her blank eyes turning toward the entrance. “Someone’s there,” she murmured, halfway to hanging a pair of pants.

“I’ll get it,” Aoi replied quickly, before Kanao could move. While her now-blind sister could navigate the butterfly estate without help, Aoi didn’t want her to exert herself more than she had to. “It’s probably a pillar.”

Leaping to her feet, she left a trail of droplets as she hurried to the front door. They used to guess, before it all went down, just who’d dropped by. Nine times out of ten, the answer would have been Mitsuri. She had liked to appear for no other reason than to hug and spread her love. Obanai had lurked in her shadow, begrudgingly taking a cup of tea whenever a nervous Kiyo gave it to him. A rarer visit had been a clueless Giyu, who never understood why Shinobu only offered terse replies and sharp smiles.

Aoi’s favourite had been Rengoku, with his sunny smiles and even sunnier disposition. Part of her still expected his golden hair as she yanked open the door.

Instead, a beaming Tanjirou stood at the entrance, and Aoi tried not to let her disappointment show on her face. It had been at least a year since they’d all died. She should have known better than to expect a ghost. “You’re late,” she huffed, letting the irritation wash over her and mask her emotions.

“Sorry about that.” He didn’t look the least bit contrite for that. In his hands was a bouquet of sunflowers and he gently held them out. “Nezuko picked these.”

“It couldn’t have been you,” she muttered half-heartedly, carefully taking the bundle. There’s no flowery scent when she sniffs, just the usual weak smell of leaves and plants. “They’re pretty. Is she coming later?”

“Yep, with Sanemi!” Tanjirou lightly stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and putting on the slippers she pointed at. They were the same ones from when he’d trained here. “He’s really nice to her, but he still doesn’t seem to like me. I wonder if I did something to him?”

“Who knows?” Scratching her chin, Aoi thought about the scarred wind pillar. They didn’t cross paths often, no reason to outside of funerals and memorials, but his sharp edges seemed to have softened. Whatever bark was left in him was brittle, easily cracked. Rumour had it that it was because of his brother’s death. She could believe that. Aoi didn’t feel like the same person she had been before Shinobu’s death, before Kanae’s or her parent’s loss.

Grief had a way of changing a person.

“Inosuke and Zenitsu are coming soon, they’re just getting some more flowers,” Tanjirou added, not sounding too bothered by it. Maybe he knew more than he let on. His burn mark was bright in the morning light and maybe, limited time had a way of making problems less important.

“Then they’ll be on time for once,” she snipped, resting a hand on her hip. Aoi frowned up at him. “Though they weren’t the ones who promised to help clean up.”

“Right, right.” Tanjirou laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck. His smile was disarming. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry—just don’t do it again.” With that resolved, she led Tanjirou toward the yard, her arm still laden with sunflowers. The bright yellows contrasted with the dreary walls of the compound, their footsteps loud against the silent backdrop. Everything felt unusually muted and the rooms utterly depressing. It was irrational; the décor hadn’t changed since Shinobu’s death and the estate had always been some flavour of quiet. With Shinobu and Kanao often out for missions, Aoi had gotten used to a certain level of absence. Though, there had been one exception, one time that the halls had been filled with noise. The time that those three had studied here, when rooms had been filled with Zenitsu’s cries, Tanjirou’s laughter, and Inosuke’s overconfident roars.

The estate had been full those days. Hopeful, even. Aoi remembered believing that they could make it through with a minimal amount of casualties. Now she had more deaths than she had fingers.

“It’s quiet,” Tanjirou murmured, startling her out of her thoughts.

She glanced at him. Was he thinking of those far gone days too? “Yeah, it is.”

“And peaceful,” he added, smiling fondly. “I’ve always liked that about here. I can just sit and think, without worrying.”

It was strange, really, how the same thing could appear in two different ways at once. How the same observation could lead to two different conclusions. He wasn’t wrong. Neither was she. Before she could reply, they reached the veranda.

“Tanjirou?” Kanao guessed from the clothesline, slowly turning around to greet them.

“Yeah.” His expression softened to the same degree that hers brightened, his voice catching slightly. Aoi wondered if he realized just how much his love showed through him, that love that powered him through to save his sister’s life and now was focused on the single girl in front of him. Even if Kanao couldn’t see it, she must have felt it.

Aoi knew when she was the third wheel. Gently, she pushed him toward her sister. “You two, finish the laundry! We don’t have much time before the others get here!”

“Okay, okay, got it.” Over his shoulder, Tanjirou smiled at her as bright as the sun, as bright as Rengoku, and she felt a familiar lump in her throat.

ii.

Someone knocked on the door. Aoi heard it at the same second Naho walked past, her arms full of blankets. “Someone’s at the door.”

‘Yeah.” Naho nodded.

Aoi rested her hands on her hips. Standing on a stool, she felt marginally tall, though she just made Naho’s height now. Everyone had to grow taller but her. “Is someone going to get it?”

“How?” Nahro gestured at the blankets with her head.

“And the others…” Aoi trailed off, her cheeks puffing slightly. If they hadn’t responded to the door by now, they were either too busy or didn’t hear it, and it’d take longer for her to find them than it would to just open the door herself. Hopping off the stool, she grumbled, “Fine, fine, I got it.”

With Sanemi, Nezuko, and Uzui already in the house, it wasn’t too hard to guess who it was. There were only three people left, after all. Yanking the door open, Aoi wasn’t surprised to find a stoic Giyu on the other side, several white lilies in his hand. “Sorry about the wait.”

As usual, his countenance was as tranquil as a still lake, his mood impossible to read. Was he irritated she’d taken so long? Did he not care at all? She had known him for several years now and was no closer to the answer than she’d been when they’d first met.

“It’s okay,” he answered politely. His expression didn’t change.

After a few minutes, when it was clear he wasn’t going to move, Aoi stepped back and gestured. “You can come in, you know.”

Giyu looked at her, then at the entrance. Hesitantly, he stepped inside, as though he wasn’t certain if he could come. It had been months since she’d last seen him and she’d forgotten how annoying he could be. Even now, as he pulled off his shoes and placed them, they were a whole space away from the others.

“You can put them right next to the others, you know.” When he didn’t move them, Aoi sighed and nudged them closer to the others. Things would get messy enough when Inosuke arrived; she didn’t need more to clean up. Turning around, she led the way to the kitchen now. “The incense sticks are too high for me to grab. Could you help me with those?”

“Yes,” he replied, another monosyllabic response.

“We’ll visit Shinobu after lunch.” Aoi was proud she made it through that entire sentence without wanting to cry. “We just need to finish cleaning up. You can help.”

From the corner of her eyes, she watched him nod silently. Aoi had the urge to apologize—it was insane, that she was giving a pillar an order. But with no demons, there were no pillars, and the people she’d idolized were now just ordinary citizens like her. The thought wasn’t as comforting as she’d hoped. Part of her still expected demons every night, that Shinobu would stumble through the door in the middle of the night, tired and bloody.

Maybe she’d never shake of this feeling of unease whenever the sun set. Forcing herself out of her thoughts, she added, “I think it’s just moping…”

Giyu wasn’t beside her anymore. She spun on her heel. “Giyu?”

Three doors down, he stood at the entrance to Shinobu’s workroom. When he didn’t reply, she quietly approached him. “Is something wrong?”

Still, he kept quiet. Aoi followed his gaze into the room. The blinds were pulled back, letting sunlight in. Shinobu used to keep them drawn, preferring utter darkness for her experiments. Despite her strict organization of her samples, her books had always been scattered around haphazardly, an accident waiting to happen.

“It’s all gone,” Giyu murmured.

“Yeah…” Aoi rubbed her arms awkwardly. She had scrubbed the room clean of Shinobu’s presence, shelved the books, tossed the samples. It was a simple office now.

“She’s gone.” His voice was soft, almost too soft to hear. Despite his teary eyes, Giyu didn’t break down, just stared into the room with the same emotion she had when she’d finally forced herself to clean it.

Resignation. Acceptance. Aoi had always thought of him as a doll, but that hadn’t been fair. Despite how Shinobu ragged on him, she’d often drag him into her workroom. The candles would flicker well into the morning, the two of them quietly sharing a drink as they watched the moon. Whenever Giyu would visit, his shoes used to be on the far end, neatly tucked next to Shinobu’s.

Her throat burned, remembering the sight of Shinobu’s shoes next to his. She’d almost forgotten what they’d look like, what that space used to be for. Reaching down, Aoi grabbed his hand. His skin was warm. “She is.”

Aoi hoped Shinobu had done this once too, reached out and clasped his hand. That she had done something for herself before she died. That Giyu would remember this long after Aoi had forgotten what Shinobu sounded or felt like.

Maybe some part of Shinobu could linger, long after her presence disappeared from the house.

iii.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Got it,” Aoi yelled automatically, used to the drill by now. She yanked open the door. “Everyone’s here already, Shinobu—”

There was no one at the door. Of course, there wasn’t, because Shinobu was dead, because this was Shinobu’s one year anniversary and Aoi should have remembered that by now. It was irrational, really, the way she kept doing that, the way she kept expecting Shinobu whenever candlelight crept out of a room in the middle of the night.

It had been a year. Only a year. As long as a year. It hurt and Aoi thought she knew how it felt to miss someone. She’d forgotten how much it hurt at first, how dull that pain could get. Behind her, she could hear Tanjirou’s laugh, Sanemi’s angry growl, Giyu’s confused squawk. It wouldn’t be long before she lost them too, before she had to go through this all over again.

Death was the constant companion of demon hunters. She didn’t know how she’d forgotten that.

As she stared blankly out onto the dirt pathway, a bright purple butterfly lazily floated by. Shinobu, she thought irrationally. It made no sense. That was a butterfly. Shinobu was happy in the afterlife. Yet Aoi couldn’t stop herself from chasing after it. Its wings looked like Shinobu’s cloak, delicate and ethereal.

What would she do if she caught it? If she didn’t catch it? I miss you, I’m sorry, and are you happy ran through her head in a loop.

Yet the butterfly stayed out of reach, away from her questions. As she ran around the corner, she almost ran into Inosuke as he charged past her.

“I made it first,” he roared, heading straight for the door.

“S-sorry…we’re…late…” Zenitsu panted and she turned back to find him standing in front of her, winded and half-collapsed. He smiled.

“I-it’s fine.” Aoi glanced around but the butterfly was gone.

“W-we got flowers,” Zenitsu gasped, holding out a hand before realizing it was empty. “A-and we dropped them…” He glared over her shoulder at the long-gone Inosuke. “Because someone had to have a race.”

It was utterly like them and Aoi laughed. God, it felt good to let it all out, to just feel without remembering anything else. Maybe this was what she’d needed all this time. As usual, Aoi had been over thinking things.

Her present could be shattered in a blink of an eye. Most of her friends wouldn’t make it past five more years. But she’d lived through loss before, and she’d learned the most important lesson: there was an after.

There was no need to dwell on the past, to chase after ghosts. Better to just embrace what she had, for as long as she could, and prepare herself for the future.

Aoi could almost hear Shinobu’s approving hum.

Shaking herself out of it, Aoi offered Zenitsu an arm. “Come on, let’s get going. There’s plenty of work left.”

[kechiwrites]

tension headache

Ground Zero x Publicist!Reader

wc: 2.2k

“Being Ground Zero’s publicist comes with its own set of challenges, luckily there are quite a few benefits to sweeten the deal.” warnings: anal play, dirty talk, light degradation, light spanking, d/s undertones (or overtones w/e), bakugo being the king of bullies

author’s note: i’ve been writing this since august and it’s finally done. special thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​, @some-kindofgnome​, and @nightly-tales​ for betaing! 

Your head is throbbing. The sort of building tension headache you became most familiar with in high school; the kind that starts in the morning and gets stronger with every little irritant. You’re sure it's a tension headache from having your shoulders hunched up to your ears most of the day, a seemingly ever-constant by-product of trying to keep Pro Hero Ground Zero from biting a journalism student's head off. The obscenely large TV hanging above the receptionist’s desk plays Ground Zero’s greatest hits on mute as your heels click-clack towards the steel and glass elevators. 

It’s almost the end of his patrol and you know he’ll be up soon, sidekicks and assistants (two this month, because the first had the good sense to resign soon, lucky bastard) in tow. Four consecutive texts rattle your phone in your pocket to confirm this. Each one an iteration of “on our way up!.” Waving at his secretary, you let yourself into his office setting your purse on the floor. Further behind you can already hear the clamor of voices and activity that announces Ground Zero’s arrival, people no doubt scurrying out of his warpath lest they incur his wrath. He pushes open the heavy door and says nothing to acknowledge your presence. 

Your forehead throbs with irritation at the snub. You know it’s only a matter of time before either of you begin to push the other’s buttons but your employer seems to have a secondary quirk he uses only for you.

You like to call it Extreme Irritation.

“Would it kill you to be nicer to the press?” You give first, sitting on the overstuffed leather couch pushed against the easternmost wall underneath a frankly, unnecessarily large, framed photo of U-A’s graduating class. “Why do you insist on making my job so hard?”

“Can’t pay you for fucking nothing,” he scoffs, leaning against the desk in the center of his office. Carefully he divests himself of his gauntlets, handing one to his senior assistant, and placing its twin onto the desk next to his big gaudy nameplate, muttering; “Take this to Yumikawa, I think I broke the fucking thing.” When he’s halfway past the threshold, Ground Zero adds, “And tell her to do better with her shitty paint jobs!” His gaze snaps to the newest recruit, a tiny shivering thing who looks like a stiff wind could blow her over, “What the fuck are you standing there for? Go with him! Do I have to fucking tell you everything?”

She practically leaves a dust cloud in her wake. You roll your eyes and begin reading through news updates on your tablet, nails clicking lightly against the screen. Tweet after tweet and article after article summarize Ground Zero’s latest exploit, every title and byline more sensational than the last.

“Ground Zero Overshadows Daring Rescue with Another Tirade!”

“Is Ground Zero the Meanest Pro-Hero Ever?!”

‘imagine ground zero calling you stupid 🥴 #imahole’

You could almost laugh if it weren’t for the startlingly large amount of retweets on that last one. Finally, the pro hero deigns to address you; “I did as you asked, I smiled, I laughed, I didn't blow anyone up.” He actually sounds proud. You blubber in shock. “You called the reporter a fuck wit! They can't even air that!” For good measure you hold up the tablet to replay a heavily edited fancam of Ground Zero sneering at some poor junior reporter. “Isn't that what you wanted? Less of my insults on TV?” He is so smug, it drives you crazy. “Not like that!” You toss the tablet onto the couch beside you and stand, stomping towards Bakugo, who’s leaning against his desk, clenching his jaw, arms crossed, as if he didn’t spend the entire morning making you wish you’d never laid eyes on him. The two of you are growing more and more irritated with each other and it’s evident in the rapidly rising volume of your conversation.

"I'm serious, if you want to be ‘Number One’,” you stress through your teeth, “people have to like you, at least a little bit. That. Includes. The. Press.” Every word is punctuated with a strong poke to his sternum, and you try to ignore the pain of jabbing your finger into his brick wall of a chest. It feels as though the pristine white collar of your button-up shirt is digging into your throat while you try to restrain yourself from biting his stupid, perfect nose off.

Now it’s Bakugo’s turn to roll his eyes, “People like me.” He looks to his sidekicks for confirmation and you pointedly ignore them bobbing their heads in unison.

“Who?! Who are these people that like you?”

Bakugo gestures wildy at his sidekicks, “They like me!”

“They’re afraid of you! They respect you but they don’t like you!” You shake your head in disbelief.

“You like me!” He barks at you.

You almost choke on your surprised laughter. He really was absolutely ridiculous.

“I have to like you, you pay me!”  

“That’s right. I sign your cheques, you deal with all the media bullshit and make me look good.”

“You make it impossible for me!” If it weren’t for the intense tunnel vision your arguing was giving you, you would have seen Ground Zero’s sidekicks inching slowly towards the door.

“Well maybe you’re just shit at your job!” He turns away from you to push papers to the side of his desk, the gesture a clear dismissal that only serves to rile you further.

“Oh fucking bite me, Katsuki!” As soon as it’s out you slap your hands over your mouth, eyes wide as dinner plates.

You were exhausted and tense and so mad but it’s not what you agreed on, never at work and never in front of subordinates. In an instant it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. Bakugo’s expression is furious when he whirls on you. You chance a look over at his assistants and all colour has left their faces, ‘Impressive,’ you think idly, ‘Considering Haruto is literally purple.’ 

“Out. Now.” He growls, and his teeth are clenched together so hard you think they might shatter, his throat is rapidly turning red and his hands are clenching and unclenching around nothing. The sidekicks hesitate and you’re a little grateful for their loyalty. 

“Fucking out. NOW!” He yells, and they nearly fall over each other trying to get out the door. 

“And there goes the loyalty,” you murmur while you watch their hasty retreat. “I’m sorry,” you say, turning to face him head-on, apology punctuated with the slamming shut of his office door. You focus on the wall of windows behind him, the city skyline slowly lighting up in the nighttime, preparing for an infamous Ground Zero meltdown. “That was inappropriate, especially in front of subordinates.” Idly, you wonder what the theme this time will be; Disrespect? Insubordination? Or just a good old-fashioned dress down? He’d become quite wordy over the years, you were almost beginning to enjoy them.

While you muse Bakugou inches closer to you, cheeks a mottled red. His shoulders rise and fall repeatedly, like he’s bringing himself down from the peak of his anger. For a moment you think he’ll just outright scream in your face, but when he pulls you, first towards him and then past him until your stomach presses against his desk, you realize quickly what he’s planning. 

His forearm presses against your back until you’re bent over his desk, your hands palm down between the wood and your chest to prevent your face meeting the cool oak. It’s bordering on humiliating how easy he can manipulate you. But they don’t teach hand to hand combat in the business sector, and although you’d toyed with the idea - being in a high-risk industry and all - you never put stock in seriously learning. 

The blond’s hand snakes over your shoulder, slightly damp palm advancing until it’s pressed against the smooth flesh of your throat. Katsuki pulls you towards him this way, and for a short moment breathing is a laboured task. The other hand makes quick work of divesting you of your skirt and underwear, coming down in an instant to make contact with your bare ass. He rubs at it covetously, a shallow attempt at soothing your stinging skin. 

There’s no formality when he thrusts into you, only a few seconds between feeling  the head of his cock parting your embarrassingly slick folds and him being fully seated within you. You grit your teeth against a whine, fingers scrambling for purchase when he withdraws and fucks into you again, and then again, pace slowly gaining momentum until you can swear the heavy oak desk (and seriously that thing weighs a fucking ton) is shifting with the force.  Your stomach presses painfully into the gilded metal decorating its edge but it’s good. Katsuki is so fucking good at taking you apart with every inch he drives into you. Above you he mutters lowly about how fucking wet you are, how eager you must’ve been all day, waiting for him to fill you. It goes on like this for a while, you bouncing between his hips and the desk, him whispering filthy, untrue shit in your ears that makes your nipples hard and your breathing shallow. 

He places his free hand on your back, first up under your shirt, then slowly slides it down, until it’s resting on the roundness of your ass again. You don’t know what he’s planned till his thumb’s parted you, sliding softly over the clenched furl of muscle above your stretched open cunt. 

“Bakugou, no!” you whisper hoarsely, your voice just edging on hysterical as you struggle against his hold. 

“Excuse me?” He hisses between his teeth, thrusts not slowing for a second. The hand around your throat tightens and when he pulls you closer so his sneering mouth is brushing the shell of your ear, you unwillingly tighten around his dick in response. 

“(Y/N),” his voice is almost pleasant, and had you not been split open on his cock in his office, you’d ask him who taught him an ‘interview voice’. 

“Can you tell me who's name is on the building?” While he teases you, you can feel yourself getting wetter around him, thighs tensing and relaxing with the sensation of being spread open beneath him.

“Yours.” You wish you could fall through the fucking floor.

“I’m sorry?” His thumb presses a little more insistently against your pucker. The pressure is foreign, but not at all bad. Dear God, you’re really about to let him do this to you.

“Yours, sir.” You pant, the burning sensation in your cheeks and neck a mix of exertion and shame.

“Fucking say it,” Katsuki tightens his hold on your throat and your whimpers are barely audible over the sound of his hips brutally meeting your ass.

“G-Ground Zero.” you choke out through your clenched teeth. 

“Oh good, so you can read!” Katsuki releases you from his hold and you fall forward. With every thrust, your feet lift off the floor, and you lurch forward like a ragdoll. Katsuki pushes his thumb further inside you, belly-laughing when you cry out in pleasure.

“Where’d all that resistance go, sweetheart?” His digit fucks in and out of you in tandem with his cock, keeping you full constantly. “You know what? Next time, I’m gonna take my time stretching you, keep you wide open, maybe you can wear a plug for me, huh? And then after you’ve been soft and needy all day, I’ll slide right into you, fuck you till you gape for me.” 

You’re incapable of firing back, mouth occupied with moaning incoherently while you drool against the desk. Katsuki chokes off his own moan, using his unoccupied hand to hike up your leg so he can have easier access to your clit. The calloused pad of his fingertips press hard against you. He goes so slow, pushing and nudging at you until your entire body feels feverish and your climax takes you by surprise, forcing a yelp from your lips when your legs begin to shake. 

“That’s it. Come for me. Come on my dick.” Once he’s sure you're done, he pulls his finger from your ass and releases your leg, blanketing your back with his chest. His hips are quick to lose their rhythm as he fills you, ropes of his spend coating your insides. Katsuki shudders against you, hands running a course along your hips. He pulls away, the evidence of your time together sliding down the inside of your thigh without Katsuki’s cock to hold it in.

“I’m going back to working for Hawks.” Your voice is hoarse when you can finally speak again and levering your chest up off the desk onto shaky knees only serves to make your head spin more. You glare at your boss your boyfriend as he dresses.

Katsuki’s grin is derisive while he tucks his softening dick away, “Like fuck, you love working for me way too much to work for that fuckin’ pretty boy.” He leans down in front of you and slides your underwear up from your ankles back into place, followed by your skirt before pressing soft lips to your forehead, smoothing his hands over your cheeks. 

At least your headache is gone.

taglist: @enjifuckersupreme @pleasantanathema

[writingwhimsey]

Lady of Azuchi Ch. 5

Chapter 5

I sat in the healer's quarters after Asuna had just finished my exam. She had been at the castle for around a month now. By my calculations, I was coming to the end of my first trimester and thankfully the morning sickness was subsiding.

"You have your appetite back yet, my lady?" Asuna asked.

"Yes...with a vengeance." I answered, somewhat sheepishly.

Asuna smiled. "No need to look ashamed. You are eating for two." She then patted my belly which had started to swell ever so slightly.

I smiled. "Sometimes I feel like I'm eating for three." I said with a laugh. "And sleeping like a cat."

Asuna laughed. "It takes a lot out of a woman to carry a child." Her eyes then took on a gentle look. "How are you feeling with it all by the way?"

"Just fine." I answered "Very happy...especially now that I am not felling sick anymore."

"Good. Just know, if you ever feel like anything is bothering you, you can talk to me."

I smiled. "Thank you, that truly means a lot...and makes me very glad I chose you as my midwife."

"I am quite happy you chose me as well."

"Speaking of, would you like to join me for some tea and shopping?" I asked. "I have to get some more fabric for the seamstresses as well as for my personal project."

"A personal project?"

"A blanket I am making for the baby." I answered, putting my hand over my belly. "If you don't want to come, I understand, but I would appreciate the company."

"Are you sure it's alright for me to come with you? I know Lord Hideyoshi doesn't trust me still."

I shrugged. "If I say it is alright, it is. Not only that but it's not like we will be alone. Ever since I became pregnant, I haven't been out of the castle much and when I am...I have at least a three guards with me...or Nobunaga or one of the other lords."

Asuna gave me a small smile. "A bit protective are they?"

I smiled. "Just a teensy bit. I know it is only because Nobunaga is worried that something would happen to me. If anyone were to try to take me hostage...well they'd be getting two for the price of one."

I felt Asuna's hand on mine and looked up into her eyes. "I swear to you, no matter what I would not let that happen."

I am not sure what it was, but there was something in her eyes, a strong conviction there. I could sense it. She truly meant it. "Thank you..."

Asuna smiled. "Tea and shopping do sound nice."

We got ready and then headed out. Hideyoshi was accompanying us as my guard. We went to the tea shop first, getting tea and sweets, as I was just craving their dumplings.

"You probably shouldn't eat too many sweets, Ava." Hideyoshi said, sounding so much like a mother hen it wasn't even funny.

I glared at him.

"While I hate to say it Lord Hideyoshi is right. Too many sweets is bad for you and the baby." Asuna said. "Though there is nothing wrong with indulging in them here and there."

"Oh, so now you're against me as well?" I asked, my tone accusatory. "Or is this just you trying to get on Hideyoshi's good side?"

Asuna laughed. "No, no. I am merely doing my job as your midwife."

"If you want to work on her sweets intake you'll have to talk to Lord Nobunaga about the sugar candies and to Masamune about the amount he makes." Hideyoshi said.

Asuna nodded. "I will have to have a talk with them."

"Hey, stop plotting against me, you two!" I said, my tone teasing.

"I only want the best for my patients." Asuna said.

"And I will always look out for you." Hideyoshi added. "And I will always help look out for the baby, too."

I smiled, happy to have them both here being so kind and caring. "I know."

It was then that the gaggle of Hideyoshi fans approached our table. "Lord Hideyoshi! It is so good to see you!"

"It has been too long!"

"Won't you join us?"

Asuna looked at me. "What's going on?"

"Hideyoshi has fans." I answered. "If he's not suspicious of you, he's actually quite kind and everyone loves him."

Asuna crossed her arms and looked at Hideyoshi, her eyes scanning up and down. "I don't see it."

I let out a small giggle. "Don't let them hear you say that."

"I would love to join you ladies, but I am ensuring Lady Ava's safety during her shopping trip into town." Hideyoshi answered the women. "Perhaps another time."

"Alright, but you really should come over to my place and let me make you dinner sometime." One of the women said.

When they finally left, Hideyoshi turned to us a sheepish look on his face. Asuna was sipping her tea and eyeing him over her cup. I had to fight back a laugh. The look Asuna had on her face was too funny.

"Sorry about that." He said. "They're very kind people."

"Uh-huh." Asuna replied. "I don't get it, but to each their own."

Hideyoshi blushed and let out that awkward cough.

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. The look on their faces were just to much.

"What's so funny?" Hideyoshi asked.

"Your...faces...both...of...you." I got out in between my laughter. I managed to calm myself after a few moments. "I'm sorry, the looks on your faces were just too much."

"Don't be sorry. Laughter is good for you and for the baby." Asuna replied.

"Even if it is at my expense, I can't get mad at you when you're happy." Hideyoshi said.

That made me feel a bit awkward and reminded me of how Hideyoshi felt about me. Though I know he would never act on it. When he had confessed to me, my heart already belonged to Nobunaga, and he knew it. He had told me he would watch from the sidelines and be happy to know I was happy.

"You know, you might want to actually give one of those girls a chance some day." I found myself saying, as I wanted him to be happy. "One could make you very happy."

"I don't know about that." Hideyoshi replied. "Besides, I am just too busy helping Lord Nobunaga achieve his goals. Someone has to help keep everyone else in line."

We all sat and finished our tea and dumplings before getting up and heading to the market place.

Asuna...

Asuna sat, watching Hideyoshi talk with Ava. She noticed the way he looked at her. He couldn't get mad at her when she was happy? Hmm...interesting. Asuna thought.

When they all finally got up and got to shopping, Asuna watched as Ava looked excitedly through the fabric stalls. The way in which she looked at the fabric, as if she could see the items they could make, it was quite fascinating.

"You must really enjoy sewing?" Asuna asked.

"That is an understatement." Ava had replied, not taking her eyes from the bolts of fabric. "It is my passion. That's why I love working with the castle seamstresses."

"A noble lady who loves to work with her hands." Asuna said. "You know some of your questions at my interview make a lot more sense now."

Ava turned and smiled at her. "I don't really see myself as a noble lady. I am just a person and I want to do my fair share. I'm not a fan of just lazing around and playing with makeup games." She said. "And I do love being a seamstress. I like making clothes that make people happy."

"And that is why Ava's clothes are the best." Hideyoshi said. "Everyone knows if they want quality clothes to request her. She also keeps all of the Oda forces in the best Kimonos."

Asuna's eyes widened. "You mean you all have ordered something from her?"

"Of course."

"I don't think I'm all that special, but I am glad that everyone likes my work." Ava said, her cheeks reddening. She had picked out a several bolts of fabric that were to go to the seamstresses, but she was still searching.

"What are you looking for, exactly?" Hideyoshi asked.

"Something that will be a perfect compliment to the fabric I've got going on a personal project." Ava answered.

"You making something for yourself?" Hideyoshi asked.

"No, but it will be used often." Ava replied. She then spied some fabric that looked perfect in her mind's eye. "This is it!" She went over to the fabric. It was a beautiful white fabric with some light flower print dyed onto it. The colors were muted and subtle, but yet quite pretty.

"It is a very pretty fabric." Asuna agreed.

After finishing up her purchases in the fabric stall, they walked out. Hideyoshi insisting on carrying the packages, though he had managed to arrange for some to be delivered to the castle directly. "Is there anything you'd like to look at?" Ava asked, looking at Asuna.

"Well, there are some supplies I need to pick up." Asuna answered. "Is there an apothecary somewhere?"

"Yes, the best one is this way." Hideyoshi answered. "Are you sure you are not tired, though, Ava?"

"I am perfectly fine." Ava answered.

"Walking s a very safe activity for her." Asuna assured him. "But we shouldn't keep you on your feet for too long."

"I don't feel tired yet. I will let you know if I do."

Hideyoshi then led them to an apothecary, knowing this was the one Ieyasu went to for the few herbs that he did not grow himself. There were a few other supplies Asuna needed as well and Hideyoshi kindly showed her to each stall where she could find the best goods.

As they were walking around, Asuna couldn't help but to glance at Hideyoshi as he showed her around Azuchi and kept an eye out for trouble concerning Ava. He still didn't trust her and yet he was taking the time to help make sure she had the best of what she needed.

Before long they were finished and returning to the castle. Upon their return, they were all called to the main hall for meeting. Asuna was surprised that she was invited as well.

"Why am I being invited?" Asuna asked.

"Lord Nobunaga requested you there." The vassal who had greeted them answered. "He did not say why."

There's no way he could have found out my connection to Lord Shingen. Asuna thought, though she did not let it show on her face that she was concerned. All my letters have been sent in code and they don't go to Echigo...not directly anyways.

"I am not sure I like this." Hideyoshi said. "Though I doubt this won't be a war council."

"He always has a reason for everything...as I've come to learn and as someone else once told me, when I questioned his orders." Ava said, giving Hideyoshi a wry smile.

"Throwing my own words back at me?"

"Of course." Ava replied. "Now we should get going."

The three of them walked to the main hall. Ava walked up to take her seat beside Nobunaga on the dais. he instantly put an arm around her waist and pulled her close, giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. Hideyoshi took his seat to Nobunaga's right and Mitsuhide was sitting to his left. The other war lords were in their seats, which appeared to Asuna their normal seats.

"Midwife Asuna, you can sit here." Mitsunari said, giving her a kind angelic smile, as he gestured to the seat beside him.

"Thank you." Asuna said, taking the seat and returning the smile.

"Lady Ava used to take this seat, but after our last battle with the Uesugi-Takeda alliance, her role changed...and of course now as Lord Nobunaga's wife, he wants to keep her close." Mitsunari said.

"I see." Asuna said. So, he's rather demanding? That seems to fit more with what I know of him. She thought, though she couldn't help but to look up at the way Nobunaga gently held Ava and how his gaze was hard and icy yet warmed the instant his eyes were on his wife.

Once everyone was gathered, Nobunaga looked around the room. "Good, you are all here." He said. "Asuna."

"Yes, my lord?" Asuna asked, looking up surprised to be addressed right away.

"Is riding an okay activity for Ava to partake in?" He asked.

"Riding...a horse?" Asuna asked.

"Yes. I don't know what else I would be talking about."

"I am sorry, it just surprised me." Asuna answered. "How long is the ride?"

"It would be a bit of a journey. It normally takes three days." Nobunaga answered.

"The real risk is if she were to fall off of her horse." Asuna answered. "But there is also a need for frequent breaks."

Nobunaga nodded. "The risk of falling would not be there. She has become a skilled rider, but more importantly she would be riding with me and I would keep her from falling."

Ava looked at him. "What are you planning?"

Nobunaga smiled. "Are you worried I'll be taking you to battle again? See if you still carry fortune's favor?" He asked, his smile teasing.

That's right. I had heard that he had taken her to battle a couple of times. Why in the world he would do that I don't understand.

"I never know with you." Ava replied, though she was smiling.

"There is a festival to be held in one month's time at one of my more recently acquired territories." Nobunaga began to explain. "It is a tradition that they hold this festival and I believe it will bring good will if we were to attend."

Ava's eyes lit up. "A festival? That means festival food."

"What is my food not good enough for you lass?" Masamune asked, feigning hurt.

"Oh you know you're the best cook, Masamune." Ava replied. "There's just something about festival food, though."

Nobunaga chuckled. "I take it you want to go then?"

"Yes." Ava answered, an excited smile on her face.

"I thought it would please you." He said. He then turned back to Asuna. "You will be coming too, to help assure Ava's health."

"Of course." Asuna replied. "I was about to ask to come...I would also like to make the suggestion that we start the journey a couple of days earlier than planned, making it a five day journey instead of a three day one."

Nobunaga nodded his agreement. "Then it is settled."

"I would like to request to attend as well, my lord." Hideyoshi spoke up, his suspicious gaze finding its way to Asuna.

"I was planning on you coming, Hideyoshi." Nobunaga replied." As well as Masamune."

"Oh...of course...as you say." Hideyoshi replied.

Later that night Asuna was up late working out the supplies she was going to need. Though the trip was a month away, she wanted to make sure she had enough supplies. She also knew she was going to need to ask someone to teach her how to ride, though she wasn't sure who she should ask.

There was a knock on her door. "Asuna, I am coming in."

Asuna didn't look up as Hideyoshi walked in. "What brings you here, Lord Hideyoshi?" She asked, continuing to write down her supply list.

"I was doing a sweep of the castle and saw your light still on. Why are you still up?"

"I am working on a list of supplies I will need for the trip." She answered. "I need to be prepared for anything that might occur while we are gone. I want to make sure I have everything to properly care for Lady Ava."

"I see." Hideyoshi replied. "If you need anything let me know. I will see to it that you get it."

"There is one thing..." Asuna said, almost hesitantly. I can't believe of all the skills I've learned that horseback riding was not one of them...nor that I am about to ask this.

"Yes?" Hideyoshi asked.

"I am a bit embarrassed by this, but I don't know how to ride...could you teach me?"

Hideyoshi seemed surprised. "There's no need to be embarrassed. Ava couldn't ride either when she first arrived here. Now she can keep up with the rest of us...except maybe Masamune, but no one can keep up with him."

"You think very highly of Lady Ava." Asuna observed unable to help herself from speaking her thoughts aloud.

"She is my liege lord's wife and a rather remarkable woman."

"She said you were once suspicious of her as well...what changed your mind?"

"I got to know her and learned that she has no malice in her heart, no mean bone in her body." Hideyoshi replied, answering honestly. "And what a hard worker she is."

Asuna nodded. "I see. You never answered my question on if you were going to teach me to ride though."

"I will help you." Hideyoshi replied. "I may not trust you, but as Ava's midwife you are now a member of the Oda forces whether I like it or not. I will see to it you have everything you need to properly do your job."

"I thank you for that." Asuna said. "And I hope one day you can come to trust me and see that I really do mean no harm and only want to care for Lady Ava and the baby."

"Time will tell." Hideyoshi replied. "Goodnight...and be sure you get some rest. There is plenty of time to plan. Not to mention we will have a long day tomorrow starting your riding lessons."

Chapter 6 below!

https://writingwhimsey.tumblr.com/post/661174929193041920/lady-of-azuchi-ch-6

[dystopiandilfs]

I think that someone (preferably Dream) makes a twitlonger or a twitter thread clarifying who has how many lives, what builds and places are canon (like people still think Gogtopia and El Rapids are canon)

As much as I advocate for SMP members to take accountability for things that happen on their streams instead of Dream having to make tweets or go on said person's stream to clarify I think that Dream would be the best one to post a clarification post.

Like Karl spent an entire stream preaching about Gogtopia being canon only to Walmart Wilbur it. Then replied on his alt account saying it was a joke. Like how are you gonna spend an entire stream constantly saying something's canon and arguing with people who say it isn't only to make a 'lol no #joke' tweet.

A lot of DreamSMP viewers and some of the creators have said they don't even know what canon means and you've got people saying everything they do is canon which just adds to the confusion. Like Tommy and Llama killing Ranboo wasn't canon but it had to be clarified because people were confused.

Dream has already tweeted about how many lives people have and the amount of replies of people asking if other things were canon and why certain death weren't canon actually gave me a headache.

Like I've seen a few members like Tubbo for example clarifying when a scripted bit is over. Techno goes into his streams telling people that canon lore is happening and he can't read dono's. Phil will mute mid way through a bit to clarify if it's canon or just him Techno and Ranboo fucking about.

I think that members should mention if a stream is canon/has a bit that in part of lore in the title. Like Punz tweeted that his stream was gonna have lore then when it was over he clarified that the rest of his stream was non canon.

Ranboo's twitter also has disclaimers and clarifications after most streams and he answers canon questions in replies.

The Wiki page is constantly being changed because things happen on streams that seem canon but then end up being a bit. Like obviously whenever someone accidentally dies and someone spams chat saying canon it's obviously a joke. Like Dream accidentally blowing himself up obviously wasn't canon however even with him saying it wasn't part of the script, Tommy and Dream breaking character and the obvious joke tone so many people still thought it was canon and were confused about why Dream lost 2 canon lives in prison but still had one left. Like I feel like streamers need to clarify at the start of stream or at the end what parts are canon and what parts are a fun bit but aren't part of the lore.

Sorry for the long ass rant

TLDR: Someone needs to clarify what is canon because too many people are confused and what is canon. Streamers should clarify on the title that a stream contains some canon content and re clarify at the end of stream. I think people need to chill on saying bits are canon when they're not because not everyone is going to be able to understand the tone.

[snuggetfish]

I love your thoughts on Majima so much! He’s such a fun and interesting character to analyze and I’d like to ask what your general headcanons of him are? Like, just about any headcanon that comes to mind

Aaah thanks so much anon, it makes me fuzzy inside to know people like reading these sometimes really rambly replies! 💙 Headcanon-wise, ohhh, I’ve got a good few, but below are the first ones that come to mind. I’ve split them up roughly by topic, hopefully they’re easier to read this way!

Outfit

It always seemed to me that Majima’s environmentalism was a bit at odds with his signature look. Leather pants, leather gloves, snakeskin jacket, that’s a hell of an animal cruelty combo right there... so I think they’d actually all be fake. Majima may be flashy, but he’s not a hypocrite and with how many clothes he ruins by getting into fights, I don’t think he’d want to continuously sink cash into the leather industry. 

Though, that’s not to say his fashion would look or feel cheap! Whoever his tailor is, I bet they’re being paid well to source high quality, realistic looking leather and snake imitations.

Diet 

While we’re on this topic, I’d like to think Majima had a phase where he tried going vegetarian, after reading up on the ecological effects of animal farming. But here, he finds he can’t be as principled as with clothing, because the beef bowl cravings get too strong sometimes and the boys are noticeably crankier without their usual family barbecues... So he’d give up on the idea eventually. He's not a saint, he’s gotta have some indulgences. 

Love life 

Other things yakuza are known to indulge in: the sex trade (or “water trade” in Japan I suppose). I mean, they run a good amount of these businesses, makes sense that they’d visit them too, right? But I think, for Majima, hostess clubs would hold too many bittersweet memories and, generally, he wouldn’t enjoy being buttered up. Simulated love and empty words for a price... a hostess won’t be nearly as sincere with him—an obviously loaded customer—as the Sunshine girls were with their manager, so why bother? If it’s just gonna be two clowns putting on a show for each other... 

Frustration and distracting thoughts might push him to go to a soapland or brothel, but those visits are about as frequent as his one-night stands, which is to say: rare. His body has needs, but they mostly serve to remind him of the needs of his heart, which are so much harder to fill...

Pastimes 

So how does Maijma spend his spare moments then? Batting cages, of course, but also watching TV in his apartment, playing zombie shooters or just about any game that can help pass the time. When he’s alone, I think a lot of his habits are carried over from his days in Sotenbori, whether he realizes it or not. Thus...

Smoking 

He’s likely got an ashtray in every room, since his addiction manifests all the worse when he’s at home. He usually remembers to open the window first, but on particularly bad nights, he’d be no stranger to smoking in bed or on the bathroom floor. 

I think he didn’t use to smoke much as a young adult (19-20), but after his days in the Hole, it’s a way to cope with trauma and mounting stress. The habit only really ramped up when 23-year-old Majima realized that the more cigarettes he burns through, the less hungry he feels and the more money he can save for Sagawa’s monthly payment.... Grooming 

His apartment is sparsely furnished and looks barely lived in, probably because it is. You also won’t find him in lounge clothes too often, even the eye patch stays on almost 24/7. It’s so much a part of him now, that he occasionally forgets to take it off in the shower. But let me just say this: he’s no slob. Majima has had more than his fair share of living in squalor, while he was still in the Hole... People joke about him being greasy, but I really don’t think he could stand the feeling of being dirty. Though speaking of, I think he’d prefer showers over baths. Less idle time for the painful thoughts to creep in. The only way he’d start warming up to the idea of a nice soak every night is... if he maybe had a partner who’d gently wash his hair and back, to ease the day’s tension... or if there was a little munchkin all too eager to have him play sea monster to their fleet of rubber duckies. Would at least one of the duckies have a little eye patch scribbled on it in sharpie? Well, who’s to say... 😌

Just like his apartment, I think he would himself smell of cigarettes, but always mixed with something almost... citrus-y. Muted and a little bitter, like bergamot, from the cologne he wears on days where he needs to dress presentably. Though if you also happen to catch a note of vanilla on him... well, that’s likely a hint that Goromi’s been out on the town. (´~ ω •`) 

Skills 

Last but not least, a slightly unrelated headcanon: Majima’s surprisingly good with numbers and equations. Not because he’s received a great education (though he is definitely the kind of guy who succeeds in almost anything he applies himself to, it’s just that he rarely does) but because being in charge of The Grand’s bookkeeping, night after night for two years, has taught him skills that are not so easily forgotten. However, it’s not something he brags about, so the first few times it’ll definitely come as a shock to his subordinates. He’ll be given a balance sheet or a contract to sign and Nishida assumes his eye will just glaze over and he’ll throw the papers back at his face, but instead Majima spots a calculation error within a minute of looking at it. Then he gives Nishida an earful about paying more attention to these things... then he throws the papers back, yeah.

And because I can’t help myself on the Majidad headcanons: of course this means he’s on duty for helping his kid with their math homework. 

Whew, this ended up as a big wall of text, sorry! Guess you can tell Majima occupies my thoughts a lot more than he probably should hah... It’s fun to share these though! Thank you so much for the ask! 💙💙💙

[radishaur]

May I request a female reader x zuko where both the reader and zuko have burn scars on their faces and the gaang asks about it? the reader has the scar because she tried to jump in front of zuko and protect him when he faced his father but he still got scarred anyways. Then ozai decides she should face the same fate so she ends up getting burned as well? (Also can the reader be a firebender and zuko and her have been dating since childhood??) sorry if it’s a lot I’ve had this idea for a while

For sure! I hope you like the concept. I know it’s probably very different than you were expecting but I hope you like it nonetheless.

- Zoe

•••

Scars of Love (Zuko x Reader)

Warnings: Burn imagery

Genre: Fluff

Part: 1/2

Summary: See request

•••

The temple was silent as we both stared as each side stared at each other. Y/N stood slightly behind me as I introduced myself. The tension in the air was thick as I spoke.

“Hello, Zuko here,” I said, giving a small wave to the group.

I began to explain why I was here as the group held their defensive positions. Y/N stood awkwardly by my side, but I could tell she was trying her best to keep her head up high. She had always been shy around new people. Now that she no longer had her black mask, which covered her burn scar, she was even more so.

The Gaang dropped their positions slightly upon hearing my intent, but then immediately got back into position again. They only spoke once or twice to argue against what I was saying. When I finally finished, I waited eagerly for a response.

They eyed me cautiously before turning their attention to Y/N. She shuffled slightly closer to me and gave a small wave. I realized I hadn’t actually introduced her before. I smiled reassuringly at her before turning to face the others.

“This is Y/N. She’s the girl you’ve probably seen by my side when...I was tracking you. And also my girlfriend,” I said sheepishly.

The Gaang was surprised to know I had a girlfriend, but they didn’t question it. Instead, they began to question why she hadn’t spoken yet.

“Why hasn’t she said anything? Isn’t she gonna try and convince us of your change of heart?” Katara asked, her voice filled with venom.

Y/N shuffled uncomfortably before looking at me. She began signing to me and I saw the Gaang watch in shock out of the corner of my eye.

“What’s happening?” Toph asked, not understanding what was going on.

I gave Y/N a small smile as she finished and began repeating what she said to them.

“Y/N is mute. She says she’s sorry for chasing you all and that she would also like to teach you firebending,” I translated, looking at them all as they stood still in shock.

“I always wondered why she never spoke,” Sokka mumbled quietly, mostly to himself.

The Gaang looked to Aang to see what to do. Y/N grabbed onto my sleeve out of nervousness. I watched Aang as he looked at me.

“You both want to be my firebending teachers?” he asked cautiously.

“Y/N and I are some of the best firebenders in the Fire Nation. We both want to help you defeat my father,” I explained.

I saw Aang look over at the group to see what they would say. Katara and Toph were too busy watching us to notice, but Sokka gave his a small shake of his head to say no. His gaze hardened when he turned back to us and told us to go.

We obeyed and only got to join the group once we saved them from the assassin. Both Y/N and I thanked them and we began to grow closer to them as time passed. Y/N accompanied me on all of the, as the Gaang called them, life changing field trips and they all warmed up to her much quicker than me.

Technically, most of the things they endured during our chase of them was from me. Y/N was usually not the one to actually capture them and was usually only there as my support. She wasn’t the one to instigate anything, so they forgave her quicker.

She, in turn, became more comfortable around them as well. She taught them some basic signs so that they could understand her and the Gaang tried their best to understand what she was saying. Most of the time, I ended up having to translate for her but when they did happen to understand, Y/N never looked happier.

I knew it weighed on her heavily that she couldn’t speak like everyone else did. Like she used to be able to. I bore a large amount of guilt for that fact. After all, it was my own mistake that caused her to get the scar on her face and loose her ability to talk.

We never discussed it, but I knew we would have to sooner than later. The Gaang always looked at our scars when they thought we weren’t looking, not out of disgust but curiousity. My scar was not as easily hidden as Y/N’s was, but her’s was much more intense. Her’s covered the entire bottom right side of her face, from her cheekbone to her neck. It went entirely over her right ear and the corner of her lips as well. It was much bigger and noticeable than my own, which was why she usually wore her mask.

I knew the Gaang was curious as to how we had both gotten scarred, so when we were all sitting around the campfire one night getting to know each other better at the Ember Island house, I wasn’t surprised when one of them finally asked.

“So,” Sokka began, clearly nervous about approaching the topic, “How did you guys get your scars?”

Y/N clutched my hand harder and looked at me confidently. She always hated having to hear the story again, but I could tell she didn’t want to lie to them. Usually, we just lied and said we had aquired them in a training exercise. But Y/N’s expression told me that she wanted them to know the truth.

I sighed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before turning to the group. They were all waited patiently for me to explain. Y/N squeezed my hand reassuringly and I took a deep breath. I would have to start at the beginning.

“Y/N and I have known each other since we were kids. Her father was a high ranking General in my Father’s military and her family would be at the Palace almost every day. We grew to be friends fairly quickly and were even engaged when we were only 10,” I started, bracing myself for the harder parts of the story.

“You guys were engaged at 10?” Aang asked in shock.

“Fire Nation children usually get married as soon as they’re of age, but especially when you’re a part of the Royal Family. They want to ensure that the throne will be passed down, which usually means your significant other is chosen from a young age,” I explained, looking over at Y/N before adding softly, “Very few are lucky enough to be engaged to someone they actually love.”

Y/N smiled at me and pressed a small kiss to my shoulder before encouraging me to continue. Toph was making fake gagging noises while the rest of the Gaang watched with happy smiles. I blushed slightly before continuing.

“Y/N and I had been dating for a few years before my father aquired the throne. My grandfather passed away and my Uncle, who was supposed to inherit the throne, didn’t have any kids so my father got it instead. Learning I was going to be Fire Lord someday made me want to start learning everything as soon as possible,” I continued, the feeling of dread growing in my stomach as I explained, “I begged my Uncle to let me into a war meeting when I was 13. He warned me not to speak out, but I didn’t listen. I criticized an old general’s plan and in doing so, disrespected him.”

Y/N scooted closer to me and gave my hand another supportive squeeze. I could tell she was just as nervous as I was for me to continue, but she was being strong for me. It was something I always loved about her.

“I was challenged to an Agni Kai. It’s a firebending duel that ends when someone gets burned,” I spoke, noticing them beginning to connect the dots as I continued, “I thought I would be fighting the General, but...I turned to face my opponent and saw my father instead.”

The faces of the Gaang immediately filled with horror. Y/N had tears brimming her eyes as she remembered the fateful day. She and I both remembered what had happened like it was yesterday.

“I refused to fight him. I begged for his forgiveness instead. He insisted that I get up and fight, but I didn’t. He was just about to burn me when Y/N stopped him. She jumped into the ring and stood in front of me, screaming about how what he was doing was wrong and that he wouldn’t let him hurt me,” I said, my voice cracking slightly as I finished explaining, “My father burned her for her disobedience and then burned me for my dishonorable refusal to fight. He banished both of us, only allowing us to return when I captured the Avatar.”

The group was silent as they let my words sink in. I had a small stream of guilty tears threatening to fall from my eyes and pulled Y/N close to me. I still felt so guilty about everything that had happened. I felt Y/N wipe her tears away before encouraging me to continue. I took a shaky breath before explaining the last part of the story.

“Both of the burns scarred, but Y/N’s burn was worse as added punishment. In the Fire Nation, your country comes before everything else. Feelings are seen as weak, especially those of love. Since she had put her love for me above what was “best for the nation”, she got a worse burn. When she was screaming...,” I trailed off, not trusting my voice to actually produce any sounds if I continued.

Y/N hugged me closer and then pulled away from me to face the group. She began signing and waited expectantly for me to translate. She always knew it was easier for me to translate her own words than to speak my own, especially when I was emotional.

“The fire managed to make its way into her mouth and throat. It burned her vocal chords and caused her to loose her ability to talk. She went mute as soon as the fire hit her throat,” I managed to say, my voice wavering as I spoke.

The guilt of her injuries was enough to crush me from the inside out. If I hadn’t of spoken out at the meeting, none of this would have happened to her. She could have lived a normal life. One without a scar and a disability. I would never forgive myself for it.

Y/N must have seen what I was thinking because she smacked my arm and began signing furiously. I barely had time to read what she was saying.

“Don’t blame yourself. I chose to stand up for you. I don’t regret it, even for a second,” she signed, her caring gaze empty of any signs of hate.

I smiled weakly at her before kissing her forehead once more and pulling her in for a hug. She signed I love you onto my back and I couldn’t help but laugh slightly before signing it on her back as well.

I almost forgot the group was there until I heard Aang speak.

“I knew the Fire Lord was evil, but I never thought he could do something like that,” he said quietly.

“I’m gonna kick his ass next time I see him,” Toph exclaimed, punching her own palm.

“Seriously, Aang if you don’t kill him then I will,” Sokka added, wiping a stray tear of his own.

“I guess that explains why you were so set on capturing Aang,” Suki said softly.

Y/N began to sign once more and the Gaang did their best to translate it. I could see them struggling so I just decided to translate it for them.

“She says that the reason I wanted to capture the Avatar so bad was because I felt guilty about causing her so much pain,” I said, smiling at her as she nodded to me in thanks.

“You guys are lucky. I don’t know a lot of people who love each other like you guys do,” Katara said, a small smile on her face.

“Yea. I’m the luckiest man in the world,” I whispered, my attention returning to the beautiful woman beside me.

The rest of the group escaped my consciousness as I pulled Y/N into a kiss. Her lips were soft besides a small rough patch from her scar. I didn’t mind though. I would kiss her again and again and again for the rest of my life. She truly made me feel like the luckiest man in the world.

I would love her until the end of time.

[fanficks-from-fictives]

The call comes in as Midoriya is trying to hop into his pants and brush his teeth at the same time.

The noise he makes when he answers couldn't technically be called a word, but it gets the point across that he's ready to listen to the caller.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Mineta asks after a moment of silence. Midoriya swears he hears a sad sniffle. Is Mineta crying?

"N-" Midoriya chokes on toothpaste so he quickly spits it out and rinses his mouth. "No, I'm getting ready to go to my early morning training. Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I just haven't been able to sleep."

"Like at all?"

"At all." Another sniffle followed a muffled cough interrupt Mineta's train of thought. "Sorry, I have a little bit of a fever, probably stress related. Also probably why I couldn't sleep. Sorry to bother you, I just got bored of scrolling through Tumblr and was kind of lonely since Tokoyami turned off his music and went to sleep."

"You're not bothering me. But uh... All Might is going to be overseeing my training this morning to make sure I don't like, break my arm again or something; do you want me to tell him you're sick so you can try to sleep through classes today?" Midoriya is now successfully in his pants and wondering if he should maybe check in on Mineta.

Midoriya is sure he doesn't know Mineta all that well, but something tells him Mineta is one of those people who likes to pretend he feels better than he does so he doesn't worry anyone.

And, ironically, that worries Midoriya more.

The silence from Mineta drags on for a just a moment too long and Midoriya opens his mouth to ask if he's still even on the phone, but Mineta finally speaks.

He sounds out of breath, but the small, "that would be great, thank you," is counted as a victory by Midoriya.

Mineta continues with, "sorry for not responding right away, I muted myself to cough."

"You're fine. Do you need anything?" Midoriya is out of the bathroom and walking towards his own room to return his towel to its rightful place.

"No; thank you though."

"Right, well... if you need anything feel free to call me again!"

"Thanks, Midoriya, bye."

Midoriya hangs up, and the second the line goes dead, painful sounding coughing erupts from Mineta's room.

No way in hell is Midoriya letting Mineta be alone when he's sick. Not if he can help it, at least.

He shoots a quick text to All Might, letting him know he won't be at training or in classes today so he can look after Mineta, waits for confirmation, and then goes to gather a glass of water and some fever reducers.

He runs into Iida while he's in the kitchen.

"What are you doing up so early, Iida?" Midoriya asks, filling a glass.

"Getting ready for an early morning run. I see you're getting ready for your early morning training." Iida responds as he stretches.

"Actually, I've had to cancel that. And I was wondering if you could take notes for me today? I won't be in class either." Midoriya finds the fever reducers right where they're supposed to be and grabs the right amount for Mineta.

"Are you ill?"

"Huh? Oh- no. Mineta is. I'm staying to look after him, though."

"You are a very kind and devoted friend, Midoriya. Don't worry, I'll take notes and gather the work for you two."

"Thank you, Iida!"

And with that, Midoriya is off, back to Mineta's dorm.

---

Mineta is sitting in his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, arms around his legs, blanket draped over his hunched back as he scrolls listlessly through his favorite subreddit, enjoying the wholesomness of this tiny corner of the internet. He brings a wadded up tissue to his mouth to cover the chesty cough that racks his frame for far too long, then forces his breathing to regulate again before he goes back to his phone.

A knock at his door snaps him back to reality.

Whomstive the fuck is up at this ungodly hour? Besides himself, of course.

"Mineta? Are you still awake?" Midoriya's voice calls softly from the other side of the door.

Oh yeah, Midoriya wakes up stupid early. And Mineta had called him just a few minutes ago. 'What the fuck, Minoru, why are you forgetting what you did like, 10 minutes ago?'

Mineta slides out of bed and opens his door. "Hi." God he's so awkward.

Midoriya stands in the door with a cup of water and a couple pills in his hands. "I wanted to bring you medicine, and, ya' know, take care of you. Can I come in?"

This is how Mineta dies, he decides as he steps aside to allow Midoriya in.

God he's glad he has such a great poker face.

Midoriya places the medicine and water on the table and produces a thermometer from his pocket.

Oh shit, Midoriya means business, huh? 'What are you talking about, Minoru, Midoriya is always serious when it comes to his friends' well being!'  Does Mineta really count as one of Midoriya's friends? 'Apparently so.'

"You said you thought you had a fever, so I figured we should keep an eye on that." Midoriya explains, offering the thermometer to Mineta.

Mineta takes it and sits on his bed, motioning to his desk chair. "Feel free to sit," he offers to Midoriya before putting the thermometer under his tongue.

Midoriya thanks him and makes himself comfortable in the desk chair and Mineta makes himself comfortable in bed.

"Your workspace is really well organized." Midoriya comments.

Mineta glares at him and huffs out through his nose.

"Sorry I didn't mean to offend you!"

Mineta angrily looks away.

"Ah-! Please don't be mad at me!"

The thermometer beeps and Mineta takes it out. "Don't compliment me when I can't thank you. It makes me feel rude." He looks at the numbers on the thermometer and winces, then hands it to Midoriya.

"I'll keep that in mind. Sorry about that." He accepts the thermometer and is instantly beside himself when he sees the number. "38.5?"

Mineta can tell he's trying to whisper to himself, but it's still pretty loud. Midoriya isn't very good at being quiet, he never has been.

He feels like he blinks, but suddenly Midoriya is holding out a pill and the water for him to accept.

How did he move so fast? His quirk, probably.

"I brought fever reducing medicine; please take it."

How the hell is Midoriya so fucking cute?

Mineta accepts the medicine and takes it with a sip of water, trusting Midoriya to not poison him.

As Mineta still has the water to his mouth, Midoriya's hand strays to his forehead, where it lingers for a second before moving to his neck.

"You're burning up, Mineta." Midoriya frets.

Mineta nods as Midoriya sits by his feet. He brings them in. "I said I had a minor fever."

His breath catches and he presses his tissues to his mouth as a coughing fit overtakes him. Midoriya takes his water from him and pats his back.

"38.5 isn't as minor of a fever as you seem to think it is." Midoriya says once Mineta has his breath.

Mineta breathes in to huff angrily, but another coughing fit consumes him.

He's gagging by the end of it, but swallowing it all back, having decided throwing up in front of Midoriya is too embarrassing for his liking.

"Oh Jesus! Are you okay Mineta? Do you need to go to the restroom? Do you have a trashcan in the room-" Midoriya anxiously rambles until Mineta cuts him off.

"I'm fi-" he gags and swallows again, "I'm fine. I have a sensitive gag reflex." He doesn't actually, he could deep throat a corn dog- not that he's tested it; totally not.

"Are you sure you're not going to throw up?" frets Midoriya, placing his hand on Mineta's leg.

Mineta nods. He's worn out from coughing all night, but his fever is making it impossible for him to sleep- he's too uncomfortable.

Midoriya seems to catch on to his tiredness, because he comments, "should I get you some sleeping medicine?"

"I've already taken some." Mineta shakes his head.

Midoriya is silent for a moment, then he shifts and crawls into Mineta's bed next to the wall.

Mineta's face explodes into a blush as Midoriya explains, "cuddling with my mom usually helps me get to sleep when I'm not feeling well, and, while I'm not my mom or yours, maybe I can be as comforting?"

The reddening of Mineta's face being so apparent, Midoriya freaks out a little, "is your fever rising? Are you allergic to the medicine I gave you? Should I-" He cuts off when Mineta snuggles into him wordlessly.

It only takes a couple of minutes of Midoriya scrolling through tiktok on his phone and petting Mineta's hair until Mineta is unconscious.

[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

AO3 Link

Chapter 3

A/N: sorry for such a long gap between uploads, i’ve made this chapter extra long as an apology! with the pandemic and having to figure out a stable financial situation, its been super rough for me, but coming back to write this fic made me feel good for the first time in a long time :) I hope you enjoy!! xx

Chapter 4 - Horseshoe Overlook II

First order of business is to wash.

You've never been so soiled in your entire life, and you're pretty sure your stench could be picked up at least a mile off if the burn in your own nose whenever you take a breath is anything to go by. There are a million things you want to focus on besides bathing -- like finally getting some decent fucking hours of rest, but you work to pace yourself and not give in to the scattered anarchy your brain keeps descending into whenever you let it go blank for too long. Breaking off small pieces of a larger horror is the only way you're keeping yourself sane at the moment. The previous hold you had on your impulses is frayed down to nothing now that the ropes are gone and you have the freedom to do things as simple as itch your nose. It makes you twitchy, off-kilter in a way that sometimes yanks you out of your own mind. It's like pushing with all your might against a wall of stone that suddenly turns to air. It's a reaction you weren't expecting, and its exhausting.

One of the girls -- or women you should say, volunteers to take you down to a river near by to wash. Freckles. Pinned curls. Kind. Mary-Beth, your memory supplies as she leads you to a secluded spot away from what she warned was a more heavily traversed part of the bank.

You say nothing on the hike down the hill the gang has mounted itself atop of, though Mary-Beth doesn't attempt much conservation. Arthur, who at first had out right refused to let Mary-Beth go anywhere unescorted with a 'wild crazy woman', eventually relented after receiving a firm but undecipherable look from Hosea. It was an effort on your part to care even a little, all you wanted was to fucking clean yourself, rebuffing the disrespect of a man who had no high-horse to give any sort of morality speeches from was the least of your concerns.

"Watch your step here, the ground's a little loose," Mary-Beth warns as she lifts the front of her dress up a respectable amount in order to see where to place her feet.

Again you say nothing, only follow her example and lift the filthy hem of your own skirt and try to walk in her footprints across the patch of mud. You hug your change of clothes tighter to your side (those of which were donated by Mary-Beth this time) with your other hand as you both slowly make your way out of the slippery vat, and onto a shore of grey pebbles. Thick green growth encases you two in a private alcove where the river branches off in a tame half-circle detour before rejoining its main body down stream. The sound of the bubbling water, birds chirping in the canopy above you, and the sun splintering through gossamer emerald leaves would have made you smile in any other circumstance. Nature this untouched is rare and beautiful yet you can't find it in yourself to care, there is no room in you to feel joy right now. It's all instinct and survival, you feel so...rabid. Maybe feral is a better word for it. You simply don't feel all that in control of yourself, like if something unexpected were to happen, you'd react like a wild animal -- fight or flight and nothing inbetween.

In all honesty you feel a bit crazy. There is this buzz in your brain that peaks when you're nervous but never quite dies back down when you're not, it only returns to this constant unnerving hum that's begun to reveal itself as an opposing force to your effort towards a clear present mind.

"Um, Miss?"

It underlies everything you do, like you're getting constant shots of adrenaline every minute. This excess energy burns like poison in your veins and you know it'll sicken you eventually, but even if you wanted it to stop, you wouldn't know how to turn it off.

"Miss? Are, are you okay?"

It's a sign you're spiraling but hell if you have any mental space to pick at that particular ball of yarn on top of everything else. And holy fucking hell I time traveled --

"Y/n?" Mary-Beth's voice echoes a little over the noise of your turmoil, and you find yourself unsure if you turned to face her too fast or too slow as your vision swims.

Time violently warps then and you're grasp on sanity in turn takes a sharp slip -- the world is suddenly tipping itself upside down and you're falling, falling, falling...

You try to remember how to breathe because suddenly you can't.

"Wait," The word wheezes itself from your lungs as your mouth opens and closes in attempt to slog air down your throat, "Wait,"

Mary-Beth pales and you know you're scaring her, and if you could you would try to reassure her that you're fine but you honestly can't remember how to speak --

"Wait!"

-- so you continue to stand there and shake, repeating a sound that tastes like a word but you're not sure --

"Wait! Wait!"

Mary-Beth stands there another beat before making a run for it. She sprints by you the way you both came, and the second you're alone you collapse to the ground, knees digging into the pebble shore through the soiled fabric of your dress, fresh change of clothes forgotten as both of your hands start to claw at your throat, trying to breath -- why can't I breathe ?!

"Wait!"

As you gasp and hyperventilate, struggling to remember where you are and how you got here, it dawns on you that what you feel crawling under your skin and suffocating your throat is panic. You're...you're panicking. You thought you were taking this nightmare one horrible bite at a time why -- where did this tsunami wave of panic come from? You were doing so well holding it back, holding on, why --

Firm hands are suddenly gripping your shoulders and it takes you too long to realize that there is a small group of people standing around you, above you, closing you in, trapping you -- you're trapped who are they what do they want ?!

Your vision blacks out though you can still feel things, still hear things though it comes to you in disconnected pieces, out of order.

"WAIT!" You cry into the black, voice hoarse and broken as you try to breathe around the sound that won't stop coming from your mouth, your face feels wet, "WAIT!"

--

Kieran was shaken when Mary-Beth -- a complete worried mess -- discreetly came up to him at camp, whispering about Y/n being unwell by the river. And now as he slips through a patch of mud before forcefully parting thick shrubs into a small alcove, he sees her kneeling on the ground, hands at her own neck, struggling to breathe. Kieran's heart plummets down to drop out of the bottom of his feet.

"Y/n?!" He goes to his knees in front of her and grabs her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. Mary-Beth keeps her distance, covering her quivering mouth at the scene.

"WAIT!" Y/n yells, though it comes out as more of a hoarse whisper then a scream.

"Y/n! It's me! It's -- it's Kieran! You remember me?"

"What do you all want?! Who are you?! Why are there so many of you?!"

Kieran and Mary-Beth exchange a look, its only the two of them in the clearing. No one followed them down.

"Th-there's no one else but Mary-Beth an' me, see look! Just me right here in front of you -- there you go, see its just me, you see me? Then look, behind me, right there, see Mary-Beth?" Kieran coaxes gently, watching the logic he's laying out for her slowly collect the mania that scattered the sense in her eyes.

--

Realization dawns on you at the same time your sight returns. You let Kieran carefully take a hold of your wrists and pull them away from the red abused skin of your neck. You let him ground you, you let yourself acknowledge sensation one piece at a time: the pain in your knees from the pebbles digging in, the ache in your head, the raw skin of your back, the dryness of your throat, the burn in your tearducts -- and suddenly, before you can bottleneck it into a trickle, the whole world comes rushing in on you at once.

The smell of moist dirt, the sound of running water, the warmth of the sun, the caress of the wind against your wet cheeks, the privacy provided by all the surrounding vegetation. But even with all this reality, the figures remain. You're scared to look up, scared to stare at anything but their feet. Kieran's voice is getting more desperate though, you have to look up -- have to let him see you're recovering. With a shaky in take of breath you raise your gaze so it lands squarely on Kieran. In your peripherals these...figures, don't do anything but stand there. In fact they don't speak, don't move, don't even look like they're breathing. As Kieran fusses over you, his voice slightly muted as the ringing in your ears refuses to recede completely, you chance a glance over his left shoulder. As soon as you shift your eyes over to the figures they disappear, or more like blur, like its a trick of the light. You can still see them in your peripherals, just not the ones you're trying to look at directly. You slide your eyes back to Kieran, and notice that the figures you just tried to look at reappear.

Your breath struggles to find a comfortable rhythm as this new horror piles onto your fresh panic. Have you lost your mind? Is this part of time traveling? God, like time traveling wasn't enough to stop your heart, now you see ghosts?  

"Breathe, you're breathing that's good -- in through the nose out through the mouth, that's it," Kieran instructs, attempting to not to let you look away from him again, his hands gentle where they cup the outsides of your arms helping to dictate the pace in which your shoulders rise and fall.

You let out a shuttering breath and watch Kieran's own chest fill and empty, trying your best to match his movements. Eventually you do manage to wrangle your palpitating heart back down to a normal rhythm, and with this steadier beat comes your sense. The figures remain, though once you close your eyes to take one last large inhale to truly settle yourself, they're gone when your lashes lift again. Your hands are clutching the outsides of Kieran's forearms and you release them instantly, as if burned. A flush of embarrassment rises up to lick at the skin of your neck, it heats up your collar as you try to give Kieran a reassuring smile that ends up being more of a grimace than anything else. Kieran's face, previously pinched tight with worry, relaxes though so you figure you calmed him enough. The guilt hits you like a sledgehammer when you catch sight of Mary-Beth over Kieran's shoulder standing a few steps away, looking for all the world like she'd seen a ghost.

You wonder if that's what you looked like when you first saw the figures. You hope it was less alarming, though you figure having a full blown panic attack negated any possibility of that.  

"Y/n?" Kieran says softly, hands no longer touching you but still hovering just in case. The guilt guts you again.

"I'm fine," You murmur through a tight throat. At the doubtful look Kieran gives you, you add, "Now, I'm fine now."

You shift your gaze back to Mary-Beth and feel your cheeks heat at the realization that at your most vulnerable you were watched, made a spectacle.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, I-I didn't mean to, I, I haven't ever -- that's never happened to me before," Comes your wobbly explanation, all heart and no thought.

Mary-Beth hesitates a beat, taking a visible gulp to steady herself, before making her way closer only to kneel down beside Kieran in front of you. You flinch at the proximity, shame weighing your head down so much it lowers.

"I was only worried is all, didn't know what to do to help," She starts, voice shaky but kind, always kind, "I'm glad I went to get Kieran."

"Thank you, it -- I'm grateful for your, um, discretion."

"Sure thing, Miss," Mary-Beth nods, a soft smile lifting one corner of her mouth.

"Y/n, you can call me Y/n."

"Okay," She says with a breathy laugh, still a little shaken but being incredibly generous about it as she attempts to hide it.

There's a pause where you knot your fingers together, gathering the courage to face Kieran.

"Thank you Kieran, I --,"

"No thanks necessary," Your face jerks up at him at his words, his face goes soft at your surprise, "My Ma used to...worry, like that, after my Pa died."

"O-Oh." You mumble, utterly overwhelmed but you're not sure by what.

Silence throbs between you three for another moment before a twig cracking in the distance snaps all three of you out of your shared stillness.

'I-I best get cleaned up or the whole gang will think I murdered Mary-Beth," A nervous laugh catches in your throat, the muscle and delicate skin over it sore and red from all the scratching you did to it.

"Right," Kieran says, remaining kneeling with you as Mary-Beth rises to a stand.

You stare at Kieran for a moment, waiting for him to process what you said.

"Right!" Kieran's voice cracks as it finally sinks in and in a mad scramble that makes Mary-Beth giggle, he makes his way back through the brush leading back to camp.

He slips in the bit of mud on his way out of the alcove and this time, you join Mary-Beth in a timid laugh at Kieran's expense.

--

After washing yourself with a bar of crudely made soap Mary-Beth provided you, you slip into your shift and frock trying not to shiver. It takes you so long to figure out how to tie yourself in, guessing what layer goes under what, that Mary-Beth -- who had washed and dressed too -- approaches you to help.

"Still feeling...worried?" Mary-Beth uses the same term Kieran did when describing your panic attack as she steps up behind you to tie the strings of your skirt properly. You're grateful she attributes your lack of knowledge on how to properly dress in these period clothes to you still being a bit unsettled.

I mean you still feel quite shaken, but you have your nerves under control -- steady.

"I'm much better now, thank you," You assure as she gently turns you around to then adjust the frilly collar of the blouse that's been lent to you, "Thank you Mary-Beth, for everything."

She slows her ministrations for a moment and lets her gaze drops to yours, the weariness that sat in her eyes earlier fully evaporates, like mist under the high noon sun.

"You're a good woman, I think, at least no worse than the sort I'm familiar with. We shall be friends, Y/n."

"Okay," You allow, unsure what else you could say to that, though the sentiment does lighten the weight in your chest a little.

You guess she's okay to trust at least on some level, she was the one who regularly fed Kieran and you when you were still considered prisoners. Never tossed curses or insults at you either.

"Come," She urges as you both collect your soiled garments off the ground, "Let me introduce you to the other ladies, I promise they're much kinder than you might be expecting. Even the men, though a bit rough I admit, are mindful of us at the very least and quite sweet at their best."

You doubt you'll ever see them that way, in fact you'd bet your life on it, but you keep that to yourself as Mary-Beth leads you both out of the alcove and back up to camp.  

--

The other women aren't too bad.

Tilly is young and sparky, Karen is loud and lonely, Abigail is protective and torn, Susan is stubborn and proud, Molly is insecure and loyal, and Sadie is broken and hard. You match your personal interactions with them, with the impressions you had of them while tied up, reminding yourself to never forget everything they did or said to you while you were the enemy. They take to you easily enough you suppose, though Sadie keeps to herself and Susan -- or you should say Grimshaw, believes herself a level above them all. Not unlike Molly who hadn't even spared you a glance from the perch she'd claimed in Dutch's tent planted in the center of camp. Mary-Beth seems closest with Tilly, Karen, and Abigail, absolutely determined to pull you into their tight knit group and brush off any doubts they had about you being an O'Driscoll whore. You allowed her to do this but only to an extent and only out of respect for Mary-Beth, you didn't trust them -- barely trusted them to be civil like they are being now. In the end it was Kieran who you felt safest with, felt like you could really breathe around. The only ally you had in this place -- an equal.

You seek him out once the sun starts to set after kindly refusing Mary-Beth who offered a place for you to rest with the other women. Kieran is with the horses, though he's got his eyes on the tree line opposite of where he stands. With a twang of worry at how focused he is, you follow his line of sight but only see tree trunks and shadows cast by the setting sun.

"Kieran?" You call tentatively as you walk up to him. He jumps, completely startled, and whips around to face you.

"Oh! Y/n I, I didn't hear you,"

Your eyebrows knit at his expression, "Is something wrong?"

"No! No, I was just, uh, waiting for something."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?"

"Well, my - my horse, Branwen, she's -- well she's quite a loyal girl. Found me at Colter she did and followed us down from the mountains, saw her when we was walkin' behind the wagon. She hasn't had the nerve to approach the camp, what with all the noise and the unfamiliar herd of horses millin' about."

"I didn't know horses were that loyal," You say in quiet astonishment, you always thought that kind of stuff only happened in those cheesy horse flicks.

"Oh yes! If you treat them right and earn their trust and respect, they'll do almost anything for ya."

Your eyebrows jump lazily at this, "Go figure."

"What?" Kieran asks, confused at the term.

"Uh nevermind, so, have you a found a place to sleep?"

"Sleep?" His throat sounds dry all of a sudden.

You stay silent, waiting patiently for a response, wondering why he's become so skittish. He licks his lips, maybe a nervous habit, and can't seem to look you in eye.

"Well, yes I have, but surely Mary-Beth has found you somewhere suitable."

"I don't trust any of them to not kill me in my sleep."

Kieran backs up a step as if you'd struck him, "Mary-Beth wouldn't --,"

A harsh huff blows from your lips.

"No she wouldn't. I, I don't feel like I could sleep among so many...strangers." Comes your quiet admission.

Kieran observes your face for a moment, really takes in your expression.

"I know how you feel," He pauses, fiddling with his sleeve cuff, "How about you sleep while I watch?"

Your head snaps up and you eye him with potent suspicion, but before you can comment or become truly alarmed Kieran trips over himself to clarify.

"N-Not watch you! Not like that! Christ alive no, m-more like watch your back -- stand guard, that way you can sleep without havin' to worry."

Something very close to amused fondness rolls through your chest and clears out any doubts on Kieran's intentions. A giggle escapes your lips at how flustered he is at the notion of what you'd initially thought he meant.

"How about we take turns, I sleep for half the night, and then you for the rest? That way we both get sleep without having to freak out."

Kieran looks like he's about to argue, but he watches you place your hands on your hips very very deliberately, and relents with a sigh.

"Oh alright, but I have first watch!"

You break out a triumphant smile, a real one, and give his left shoulder a friendly punch.

"Deal!" You confirm.

Kieran rubs at the place where you punched him, a bit confused at the gesture but still finds himself laughing with you.

It turns out Kieran picked a sleeping spot near the outskirts of camp behind one of the wagons far from where anyone would disturb you. Some sort of campfire set up for whoever was on guard duty sits a couple paces away. The fact that there was a twenty-four hour patrol routine frayed on your nerves more than you wanted it to. It reminded you that these people were hunted, that if something were to happen you'd be caught up in it as well, even be killed because of it. The idea of dying for these people made you sick, but you never let yourself think about it too long or your anxiety rose to dangerous levels.

As you settle down on the bed of hay that serves as your bed, Kieran plops down cross legged behind you.

He gives a weary sounding sigh, "You know folk'll talk, with us sharing the same sleeping space an all. You sure you want to deal with that?"

You twist around, finding yourself staring at Kieran's hunched back as he picks at the grass near his ankles.

"I don't care what these people think of me. They can say whatever the fuck they want," Kieran jumps a bit when you curse, "I trust you, I only care what they say if you care Kieran."

A pregnant pause grows between you two then, something cold twinges in your chest.  

"Do you? Care?"

"I care only for what might be said about you, I know you say it don't matter, but we're already hated. The women at least seem to like you, you -- you could be one of them, be part of the gang I mean."

You sit up and put a hand on Kieran's shoulder, gently urging him to turn to face you.

"Kieran you have been my only ally since all this started, I could care less about being part of this," You wave your hand vaguely to the camp.

"Well you should care, what other option do we have? We know too much about them, we can't ever leave. You understand that don't you?"

Your face begins to drain of blood. For some reason you hadn't thought of it like that. These people weren't just hunted, but they hunted as well. You knew their faces, could identify them if asked to. You knew their names, their habits, their whereabouts. They'd never let you leave this gang, not alive.

"Oh my god," You say in quiet horror.

Kieran notices this but remains silent, sharing your sentiments. The need to travel back to your time becomes even more of a priority than before if that's even possible. You needed to find a way to escape, and hopefully you could help Kieran get free too.

"We'll find a way Kieran, I promise I'll get us out."

Kieran firmly shakes his head, turning back to face forward and away from the determination in your eyes.

"There's no where for me to go even if we did manage to escape without bullets in our backs. I have no money, no trade, no skills."

"You've said you're good with horses!" You try but Kieran only shakes his head again.

"You have to have some sort of reference or be known to be respectable to work at a stable, even one in a town and especially on one of them fancy ranches. Plus I'd wager that by the time we would have the means to escape, our faces'll be plastered up on wanted posters along with the rest of the gang's."

You try not to blanch further at this, not having considered that either.

"We have to try and work our way into this gang Y/n, its either that or die. I know this kinda life, done it before, I know our options and I'm tellin'em to ya now."

Kieran shifts to look at you over his shoulder, his gaze insisting things you don't want to hear.

"It's the only way."

There's a sting in your eye that you swiftly ignore by blinking hard against the feeling. Your breath shutters out through your nose, and without another word you lie back down. Kieran watches you do this, his mouth parting as if to speak but he shuts it and turns back around. Silence reigns once more, a gap stretching between you that's worrisome. Keeping the nerves out of your tone, you promptly break the quiet.

"What did you do when they took you to the O'Driscoll hideout to convince them to let you be part of the gang? What did you say to try and convince them of my innocence? You seemed so sure you could untie me when you came back." You ask in a murmur, having been wondering about this since Kieran came rushing back to you tied to the tree, whispering about being free now.  

Kieran shifts a bit and huffs, "Well I first swore I'd never seen you until you were being tied next to me behind that wagon in Colter, but they didn't believe me. So I then said that Colm didn't usually stick with one whor -- uh, lady of loose morals, that he liked, er, variety. They again said they didn't believe me, so I told them the truth. Any woman Colm spends a night with usually doesn't come out of it unmarred."

"Unmarred?" Something in your gut sinks in horror.

"They always leave pretty roughed up. He's not, he's not gentle with 'em. And I said that if you was his, if he had...acquainted himself with you and often enough for you to know some of his personal secrets, you'd have been in a much worse state than they originally found ya in."

"You mean besides being naked and freezing to death?" You scoff, disgusted with this Colm person and starting to understand why everyone in camp seemed to hate Kieran and you so much thinking you associated with that kind of man.  

Kieran clears his throat, "Besides that."

There's a pause, then, "Forgive my lack of delicacy, but you were found n-naked? Why? If you don't mind my askin' of course!"

You manage to choke out, "It's a long story."

"How did, how did they take you back to camp?"

"I don't know, all I know is that Arthur is the one who saved me. Though I wish he'd left me to die instead of bringing me here."

"Mr. Morgan saved you?" Kieran asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," You confirm rather sourly, "The one who doesn't seem to have a merciful bone in his body."

"Well I'm not dead because I shot an O'Driscoll and saved his life at Six Point."

You take a moment to consider this information.

"Owing a life debt is not the same as mercy." Comes your stubborn rebuff, refusing to give Arthur even an inch of sympathy in your mind.

The both of you quiet again, and this time the silence isn't heavy with unspoken words. Just before you're about to fall asleep, you find the extra fabric of Kieran's coat with your fingers, and twist the rough material into your closed hand. Your dreams consist of a warm chest pressed to your front and the worn fur lining of a coat wrapped around your back, a pocket of safety tucked between an arched neck and a stiff flipped up collar...

--

You wake to the noise of the camp, birds twittering high in the trees, and Kieran's jacket laying over your body that's curled tightly in on itself during the night.

With a sore grunt you sit up, body still aching from all the abuse its been through. Kieran hadn't woken you, he'd let you sleep through the whole night. You feel a flare of guilt and frustration rise in you, followed quickly though by begrudging fondness. You should have known he'd do something like that, the softie. Getting to your feet, you wipe the stray pieces of hay stuck to your skirts off and groan internally at how uncomfortable it is to sleep in these old fashion clothes (thank god they hadn't stuck you in a corset). Though its leagues better than nodding off tied to a tree. Once you make your way into camp proper, Mary-Beth bumbles up to you all smiles and simmering questions about how you slept last night while leading you to a wooden pail that she informs holds the water the women use for their personal hygiene.

"Heaven forbid we're made to share with the men!" She exclaims good-naturedly as you approach the mini bathing station set on a stool by the women's tents.

You watch Karen finish splashing water in her face before scrubbing and rinsing her teeth. She spits the water out onto the grass beside her and not back into the pail (which you are grateful to see), then scoots over with a mumbled good morning directed at you when Mary-Beth ushers you forward to do the same. You hope that you can get your hands on some soap that is possibly softer against your skin than what you used yesterday by the river. If you don't wash your face twice a day you know you'll break out, and though acne should be the least of your concerns right now, the familiar motion of splashing water on your face pushes the domestic thought to the forefront of your mind. As you dab your face dry with a clean cloth that Mary-Beth hands you, distractedly you wonder if the water you are using was cleaned or prepped in any way. Surely washing your face with river water wouldn't do your skin or your tastebuds any favors. Fighting a grimace, you scrub and then rinse your teeth but find that while the water doesn't taste like algae as you feared it might, it doesn't taste like the bottled water you have in your fridge at home either.  

Once you're done, you thank Mary-Beth for her guidance and are about to turn to go find Kieran, when Karen appears at your right and hooks her arm through yours, pulling you over to their tent where a small crude vanity is set up.

"Do you wear makeup Y/n?" Karen asks, "Only Mary-Beth, Tilly and I use this station, though Grimshaw likes to sometimes steal the face powder and pretend she's not wearing any, the old hag."

You don't know what to say, a bit shell-shocked at the familiarity they're employing, as you catch a glimpse of Molly across camp, just a step outside of Dutch's tent, carefully applying red lipstick. She brings the pretty little decorated hand held mirror she's using closer to her lips to inspect her work, turning her face slowly from side to side, utilizing the early morning sun's soft glow.

"Uh, sometimes," You start but quickly backtrack when you realize you know nothing about the makeup from whatever time period this is, "But not enough to really know how to do it myself, my --,"

"Yourself?" Karen interrupts, Mary-Beth and her both stilling in their fussing to face you, "You mean you had someone to do it for you? What, you some kind of heiress or somethin'?"

The questions make you nervous, but you school your features so as to not let that show.

"No, nothing like that. My older sister did it for me, she always liked to dress me up in things." You lie.

"Oh a sister? That must be nice, what's she like?" Mary-Beth asks, not unkindly.

Fuck.

"Like all older sisters I guess, she's nice until I borrow her stuff without asking." It's vague but believable, you hope it convinces them.

Karen lets out a snort and Mary-Beth shakes her head with a smile.

"Sounds about right," Karen says as she directs you to sit.

"I-I really don't think make-up is necessary," You warn as Karen begins to rummage through the little that's laid out in front of you.

"Lord's sake! We need to get into town, we've got barely nothin' left that didn't freeze to sludge up in Colter!" Karen grumps, completely ignoring you and continuing to search finger through the tiny bottles and tin trays.

Mary-Beth laments Karen's statement with a sigh, neatly pinning a curl up into the mass she'd collected into a bouquet near the crown of her head, using a corner of the mirror you've been sat in front of as a guide.

"Uncle was sayin' yesterday that he'd been meaning to go into town today, maybe we can catch a ride with him." Mary-Beth suggests.

Karen rolls her eyes, "Let's hope that out of us women, one of us can drive. I wouldn't trust that ol' geezer to steer a spoon into a bowl."

You're about to once again attempt to excuse yourself and look for Kieran, when Tilly walks up to the girls and you with a distinct scowl on her face. She plops down under the awning of the tent, pulls out some sort of sewing project and sets to work without a word.

"What's wrong Tilly?" Karen inquires almost as soon as Tilly had sat down, ignoring her show of clearly wanting to be left alone.

"Grimshaw." Is Tilly's only response though this seems to be explanation enough for both Karen and Mary-Beth, they both groan in sympathy.

"If you don't want to wear any make-up, let me at least do something with your hair," Mary-Beth pleads, turning back to you, as Karen elbows you off the stool when you duck away from her hand holding some sort of powder puff.

"Um,"

"Just a brush through then? Your hair is, well it's just a bit tangled." She furthers as Karen leans in close to the mirror and starts putting on what seems to be this era's version of eyeliner.

"A bit? It looks like rats have taken up occupation in there." Karen scoffs as she holds her eyelid taught with one finger and uses her other hand to drag a fine brush along her lash line.

"Karen!" Mary-Beth admonishes as Tilly giggles down into her sewing across the tent.

You only sigh, still uncomfortable with them pretending like they didn't all hate your guts a couple days ago. Except for Mary-Beth. You sigh.

"Okay." Your surrender is met with a wide grin from Mary-Beth.

"Mary-Beth loves to do hair," Karen explains unnecessarily as she moves onto her other eye.

You're then sat on a different stool facing out towards camp, and Mary-Beth begins the long grueling process of brushing out your hair that hasn't seen shampoo in over a week and a half.

--

It's around mid-morning when Mary-Beth finally finishes with your hair. You're a bit surprised she stuck with it, you thought after about twenty minutes with only a small portion of your hair untangled to show for it she'd give up. But she was oddly determined. Karen and Tilly had gone to ransack Pearson's wagon in search of breakfast and brought back a few loaves of bread with a can of peaches. They laid the pre-cut slices of fruit heaviest with juice over the loaves of soft bread they'd thumbed open. It was delicious. After a week of only eating crumbs it was comparable to heaven. Once you finish, you ask if there is any left that you could take to Kieran.

"The O'Driscoll?" Karen scoffs, licking her fingertips clean of peach juice.

All previous good will she'd been building with you disappears. They had all watched as Kieran and you suffered and did nothing. A fuzzy memory of Karen tossing a still lit cigarette bud in Kieran's face resurfaces and it sours your frown into a hateful scowl. These women are not your friends, a part of you feels ashamed you let them trick you into thinking that, even for a moment.

"He is not an O'Driscoll."

Karen, Mary-Beth, and Tilly freeze at your tone, Karen seeming at a loss for words at the look you're giving her. All previous levity dives into insufferable tension.

"Sorry," Karen apologizes in a voice very unlike the brash snark she'd been using all morning.  

You don't say another word, you only collect the last loaf of bread, the near empty can of peaches, and storm off in search of Kieran.

You find him coming out of the treeline near where the gang's horses graze, with a new horse in tow. Kieran has a smile on his face. As you make your way over to him, avoiding contact with anyone else, you realize you've never actually seen Kieran smile before. This time Kieran sees you coming and the grin on his face grows, it warms your heart, reminding you who your true friend is.

"Is that Branwen?" You ask through a smile of your own, walking around the herd to one of the hitching posts near the hay wagon Kieran is making his way over to.  

"It is!" Kieran replies as he gently guides his horse to stop before the post, giving her dirty mane a loving pat, "Been coaxin' her to me all morning."

"She's pretty," You offer as you come to stand next to him, being careful not to move too fast, unsure how to handle yourself so close to a horse.

"Oh she looks like a two cent nag with all the filth she's got collected in her coat."

"Well I can tell from the," You gesture with the peach can towards the mare, "Colorings, that she'll be super cute when she's all clean."

Kieran blinks furiously at the terms 'super' and 'cute', but you rush into another sentence in the hopes of distracting him from your odd terminology.

"I brought you breakfast," You present the bread and the peach can to him.

He looks down at your offerings and only stares, "That's kind of ya, but where did you get it? Did Pearson give it to you?"

You shake your head, "The women shared it with me."

Kieran stares at you for a moment, then blinks up at your hair, seeming to just know realize it isn't in knots anymore.

"Oh," He says dumbly, "Oh."

"So, breakfast?" You say again, trying not to laugh.

"I should really care for Branwen first," Kieran begins to say but trails off at the look on your face.

"Thanks for waking me up last night to switch guard shifts," You muse, rolling the peach can between your fingers. Kieran's eyes drop to watch the motion and he gulps, "Really appreciate waking up feeling like a worthless friend."

You know you're going hard on the guilt trip, but you can't help it. He's easy to tease but you are truly peeved he didn't wake you.

"We had an agreement Kieran," One more moment and --

"Okay I'm sorry!"

There it is.

"I knew you wanted me to wake you up to switch, but I couldn't help it! You looked so tired, I just couldn't do it." He whines.

You pretend to ponder on this, shifting your weight to sit in one hip.

"I'll only forgive you if you eat first, then you can care for Branwen."

Kieran looks so genuinely torn by this you almost relent, but he caves before he makes you feel guilty and grabs the food from you. You stay, wanting to make sure he eats it all.

"Wait!" You cry as he stuffs the entire loaf into his mouth.

He startles and stares wide eyed at your outstretched hands.

"You're supposed to put the peaches on top," You pout, "That way the juice sinks into the bread and it isn't too dry."

Kieran only shrugs at this, chews the bread for another moment before swallowing (though you feel like he should have chewed a mouthful that big a bit longer; seriously that must have hurt going down), before sticking his fingers into the can to scrape out the last few slices of peach. You roll your eyes at this.

I guess men will be men no matter the time period.

"Okay I'm done, can I wash Branwen now?" Kieran asks your permission, though you suspect this is done more out of fond spite than anything else.

You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again as you snatch the can from him, and answer him anyways, "Yes."

Kieran gives you a quick thanks before rushing back over to Branwen, cooing at her sweetly, before starting to remove the weather worn saddle from her back. You place the can by your feet, ready to sit down in the grass and watch Kieran for the rest of the afternoon, even offer to help though you don't the first thing about cleaning a horse, when someone clears their throat behind you. You swivel your head over your shoulder and find that its Mary-Beth. She looks sheepish at best, guilty at worst. The softness in you hardens.

"Um me and the girls were wonderin' if you wanted to ride into town with us," She waves a hand towards the main entrance of camp and you see a wagon hitched and ready to go. Karen and Tilly are sitting in the back looking at you across camp, while the elderly man they called Uncle and Arth --

"I'm fine." You decline automatically when you spot Arthur sitting on the driver's bench next to Uncle, fiddling with the reigns.

Mary-Beth pauses, her expression tensing like she had expected that response. You hear all the noise behind you quiet, you know Kieran has turned around to listen.

"And usually that'd be fine an' all but, we need to get you clothes of your own, seeing as you can't keep borrowin' ours." You must make some sort of face because she steps forward, voice thin with nerves, "We don't mind! It's just we don't have many outfits to spare, it'd be more laundry, more work. Plus we wanna put what money we have left together to get you something to wear of your own."

"I don't need your charity," You snarl before you can stop yourself. If they think a new dress is going to make up for almost two weeks of torture --

"That's not what this is! It's..." She sighs in frustration, though you have a feeling she's not frustrated with you.

"They're tryin'," Kieran murmurs behind you suddenly. Mary-Beth looks up at this and for a startling moment you think she might cry.

"Yes, we're tryin'," She says on an exhale, giving Kieran such a profound look of gratitude it makes you consider her offer, "An' we don't know your sizes, or we'd save ya the trouble of the trip. Though, we thought you might like an afternoon out of camp."

Before you can put the pieces together yourself, Kieran crouches down to get eye level with you and bumps your shoulder with his.

"This is good Y/n, it's a sign of trust. They're lettin' you outta camp." He tells you softly, meaning the words for your ears only. The look he had in his eyes last night reappears now, it makes you want to hit something.

Your gaze gravitates back to Arthur sitting in the driver's seat, smoking with his hat tilted low over his eyes and looking for all the world like a hero straight out of one of those old western movies. He resolutely doesn't look your way even though the entire rest of the wagon, including Uncle, are staring unabashedly at Mary-Beth and you.

"It's not a sign of trust," You whisper, turning your head towards Kieran so only he can hear you, "It's a test."

Without another word you rise to your feet, trying not to wince at the ache still present in your back.

"If I go then Kieran gets to come too." You state firmly -- nonnegotiable.

"Of course!" Mary-Beth agrees quickly.

Kieran makes his way back to Branwen though, who had been standing so patiently behind you this whole time, and begins to lead her towards the water pails kept by the herd.

"I'm staying," He says, and at your look of minor betrayal he adds, "Gotta clean up my girl, plus I'd have nothin' to do in town."

You know he's only saying that to avoid conflict, because no matter what Mary-Beth agrees to, you have a feeling Arthur wouldn't approve of both O'Driscolls coming along. Your bitterness grows distinctly more potent. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest when Kieran gives you an encouraging smile, nodding his head towards Mary-Beth urging you to go.

"I'll be fine, now go!" He says when you refuse to move still, unsure if you can.

This was in part about sticking with your ally yes, but also you didn't feel safe going with them if Kieran wasn't by your side. Who's to say Arthur wouldn't suddenly decide to beat you even though he'd chosen not to before? You didn't know him, didn't know them. You only trusted them to do what they'd always done, and that was be cruel and unfeeling towards you. Mary-Beth less so than the others but still. Arthur terrified you the most out of all of them. He had such anger in him, the kind that made a man destructive to himself and others. Whatever other complexities he might have, he is undoubtedly dangerous and that's the last thing you wanted to defend against right now.

"She'll go," Kieran says for you when you remain quiet.

Your eyes close as you struggle to contain the knot of emotion roiling in your gut.

"Okay," Mary-Beth murmurs, unsure.

"When I get back," You say, voice low, as you turn to face Kieran, "I'll want to see Branwen in all her glory."

Kieran gives you a ghost of the smile he'd had earlier, and nods in acquiesce.

Without another word you pivot on your heel and walk towards the wagon, brushing past Mary-Beth. You hear her scurry to catch up with you after a few beats, though you make sure to keep your eyes down at the ground as you approach the wagon, unable -- or more like unwilling, to let anyone see the riot of emotion wrecking havoc in your eyes. Once you reach the lip of the wagon Mary-Beth waits for you to climb up, before hauling herself up too. You sit on the right bench across from Karen and Tilly, Mary-Beth sliding in next to you.

"I can't believe we're going to see civilization," Tilly suddenly starts as Arthur snaps the reigns and the wagon jerks forward, "It feels like weeks since we did."

"Yeah, Valentine, the very embodiment of civilization," Uncle interjects with a wet sounding cackle, "You ladies are gonna love it!"

"Okay then," Arthur starts as he pulls the wagon out of the cluster of woods that hide the camp, "Let's go!"

Everything in you turns to stone at the sound of his voice, so many conflicting experiences with him -- with that voice, jamming themselves to the front of your brain all at once. You're so tense Mary-Beth tenses beside you too. Before awkward silence can settle over the group, Uncle twists to face the women in his seat.

"Ladies! Sing us a song!"

It seems to be the right thing to say because after a short chorus of giggles, Karen cues the girls in with a nasally but not unpleasant song about a girl in Berryville. They sing loudly, carelessly, and happily, relishing each other's company, the sun, the fresh air, and the views. Refusing to enjoy anything, you keep your gaze down on your hands that pick at the material of your skirt. Maybe this whole thing is a blessing in disguise. There are bound to be newspapers in a town right? They had books in camp so you know printing presses existed. You could possibly figure out where the hell you were and what time period you were in. It had occurred to you that asking Kieran for the date not just by day, but by year would come across as odd, even if he would tell you without many questions. The last thing you wanted to do was compromise the trust Kieran had in you, your only ally. You still have your eyes glued to your lap when you hear a panicked,

"Woah! Woah there!" A stagecoach comes barreling past the front of the wagon, Arthur having to pull the reigns up short to avoid a collision, kicking up huge clouds of dust that descend down around you.  

"Look at that coach! He's...he's all over the place," You hear Uncle mumble under his breath.

The women are still singing, though slightly distracted now as you all crane your necks to see what the commotion is about. Arthur encourages the wagon's horses left onto the main road where, just ahead, the horses of the runaway coach come to a reeling stop and with an audible snap, break free of the reigns.

--

"Oh goddammit! Oh shit, the horses!" Comes the cursing from the coach driver.

Arthur slows the horses to a walk as they come upon the stopped coach, one of the shires -- a big white stallion -- takes off in a fury towards a thin copse of trees on the other side of the road. Before he can grapple with shoving down the instinct to help the man, Tilly pipes up from the back.

"Is one of you gonna get that feller's horse?"

"Oh I got lumbago! It's very serious," Uncle immediately deflects without hesitation, like he had the excuse ready.

Arthur refrains from saying anything especially cruel to the old man in response, knowing he'd only make himself look like a fool. A part of him wants to push the wagon into a full gallop, leave this small choice behind him in the dust. He feels her eyes staring holes into his back though, and it makes him uncomfortable. Out of spite he wants to ignore the man, just to prove to her -- to himself that he can...that he's still cruel and angry enough to ignore a person in need. Arthur growls internally at himself. He has no idea what he's on about. With a sharp inhale and a quick clench and release of his jaw, he wordlessly hops out of the wagon, tossing the reigns at Uncle and getting the petty satisfaction of watching him fumble to catch them. Arthur lets himself do this despite feeling like he's chipping away at something important, something he needs to protect himself. Because if he's not angry he's empty...but she's staring --

"I'll see what's going on." He says through a tight jaw, promptly interrupting his own train of thought, "Lumbago, really," He mutters petulantly to himself as he makes his way over to the driver.

The stagecoach driver, catching sight of Arthur coming round to his side of the coach to help, hops down from the driver's bench and lands on shaky legs.

"You alright there friend?" Arthur inquires as the driver steadies himself against the side of the coach looking like a colt just learning to walk.

"Oh hey! You couldn't help me get my other horse back from over there, could you?" The driver says in leu of a response.

Arthur ignores the lack of manners, taking in how frazzled the fool truly is. Must be new.  

"Sure, no problem." Arthur says, briefly thinking of stealing the horse but waving the thought away as quickly as it appeared -- old habits.

"Thanks mister, its the white one over there." The driver instructs with a sigh of relief.

Arthur isn't sure how to feel about how simple -- how easy being kind is, it feels so foreign yet familiar, so natural and good that for a moment Arthur's heart stops. He actively ignores his thoughts and her watchful eyes from the wagon, following him as he makes his way across the road and into the smattering of trees where the white shire has taken refuge. Arthur coaxes the stallion to him easily enough, the beast coming up to him only after Arthur made him move his feet a little to earn his trust, show him he was the leader. He grabs hold of the dragging reigns and checks to make sure the horse didn't hurt his mouth by stepping on the reigns when fleeing or when he ripped clean away from the coach. The horse's soft mouth seems a little tender but no serious damage has been done, lucky beast. Arthur clicks at stallion to follow and leads them both back to the stagecoach driver currently wrangling the other shire back into the coach restraints.

"Here, here you go." Arthur announces himself and the returned horse.

The driver whips his attention over to him, stopping his fussing over the horse's tack, and exhales heavily in relief and gratitude.

"You're a gentlemen, sir, a gentlemen!" He exclaims as he takes the reigns from Arthur.

Arthur's chest aches at the praise, like acid in his stomach -- unworthy.

"No, not really...I was just," Arthur glances over his shoulder at the wagon, "Tryin' to impress the women."

He hears the girls giggling at this, though he knows which one of them remains silent.

The driver gives a hearty chuckle, "Well, anyway, thank you!"

Arthur nods at the man, biting back the warning about the shire's sensitive mouth and to go easy on the reigns next time, and heads swiftly back towards the wagon.

"C'mon!" Uncle urges as Arthur hauls himself up into the driver's seat.

"To Valentine!" Karen cries as Arthur snaps the reigns and the wagon lurches forward.

Arthur's grateful no one is bringing up --

"You're turnin' into a regular ol' fairy godmother there, Arthur!"

The urge to push Uncle out of the wagon takes a fierce hold of him. He only tightens his grip on the reigns instead.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur grits out, delivering Uncle the most unfriendly glare in his arsenal.

"It means you've gotta heart!" Mary-Beth interjects from the back, "A small one perhaps, hidden deep inside, but a real one!"

Her words are a surprisingly odd comfort, but they mostly confirm his fear. Its simpler if he's just fury and hate. The idea that beneath all that is something truer than what he is now, that's something he absolutely does not want to deal with right now. Or ever.  

"And you haven't! You repulsive old lizard!" Mary-Beth crows at Uncle, the girls all murmuring their adamant agreement.

"Lizards have hearts!" Uncle argues weakly, though Mary-Beth doesn't dignify that with a response.  

"Well Arthur," It's Tilly this time that speaks up, "I'm proud of you."

God were all of them gonna praise him like he just saved a newborn child from certain death? He doesn't think he can take much more of this. Arthur attempts to remind them all who he really is.

"To be honest, if you lot hadn't been here, I probably woulda robbed 'im." He says, hoping to regain some semblance of the intimidating image he'd carefully curated over the years. A bit concerned it could be knocked so easily, and over an act as simple as helping a stranger.  

Uncle wheezes out a dark chuckle at that, Karen joining him, but Mary-Beth speaks up again strangely determined to drive her point home.

"Well, you didn't!"

Arthur wonders belatedly if this is Mary-Beth's way of trying to endear him to the her, who has remained silent this whole exchange and ever since she got in the damn wagon. Something twists suddenly in his gut but Arthur smothers it on reflex, dawning his armor of anger. Good, he thinks, let her fear me, and laughs along with Uncle and Karen as they cross the railroad that circles through the town and lumber past what looks to be the station and post office.

"Smell those sheep!" Tilly says as they pass by a couple sizable livestock pens at the same time Arthur hears Mary-Beth promptly snap out her fan, and begin beating it quickly against the smell of shit.

Karen gives a hearty scoff, "Or is that Uncle?"

"Oh very funny," Uncle grouses in a slump beside him.

Arthur can't help the grin that spreads across his face.

"This looks like a decent little town." Mary-Beth insists even as she continues to vigorously work her fan.

"Other people," Tilly groans, "Finally!"

"Look at all that snow on the mountains! Sure don't want to be back up there," Mary-Beth points out, everyone in the wagon turning to glance at the icy peaks in the distance and all sharing a collective shiver.  

"You think we should have asked Molly to come with us?" Tilly wonders after another moment of taking in the bustling town.

Arthur is quickly assaulted with the image of Molly walking past the livestock pens getting mud and shit and who knows what else on her shoes, most certainly ruining the hem of her dress, and almost lets out a bark of laughter. Molly O'Shea would rather die than be subjected to an afternoon in a town like this. Karen, as Arthur knew she would, jumps at the opportunity to tear into the Irish woman.

"Oh no, Miss O'Shea is far too high and mighty now for the likes of us, or to do any real work. She's a society lady now!" Her tone bleeds heavily with sarcasm and bitterness, Arthur wonders if Dutch is aware of how much animosity lies between some of the women of the gang. Sure they all bit chunks out of each other once in awhile, but this divide between Molly and the other ladies was far wider than Arthur felt was smart to ignore.

"Okay, take a look around ladies," Karen buffers on, not lingering on the negativity she created for too long, "Let's see what we got here."

They're all silent as they keep an eye out for possible opportunities. Arthur carefully navigates the wagon down the main road of Valentine, weathered wooden buildings sinking in mud line the path, paint chipping, signs swinging in the slight breeze, and folk coming and going. He catalogues a sheriff station, a general store, a hotel, a saloon, a gunsmith, and even a doctor's office. Not bad for a livestock town. The sounds of horses whinnying in a decent sized stable at the end of the street catches Arthur's particular attention. He perks up when he spots a good place to park the wagon near a building under construction adjacent to the stables. Maneuvering slowly to their destination, he stops the wagon with a gentle 'woah' to the horses once he's brought the bulk of the wagon out of the way of traffic.    

"Alright! Here we are, just like I said," Uncle boasts as everyone stands to unload, "The cultural center of civilization, man at its finest!"

Arthur only rolls his eyes at Uncle's attempt at humor and effortlessly hops down from the driver bench.

"Uncle, what're we doin'?" Arthur asks before the old fool spews anymore nonsense.

"Well, we're gonna do what any other self-respecting maniac does," Arthur signals a stable hand over to feed and water their horses as Uncle talks, pushing a few dollars into the boy's dirty hands, "Put the women to work."

Karen snorts, "With pleasure, we'll start at the saloon."

As Arthur comes around to the back of the wagon, he notices Tilly struggling to find her footing on the lip of the wagon under the layers of her dress. He quickly offers her a hand which she immediately takes.

"Thank you Arthur," She murmurs in gratitude as, with the help of his hand to steady her, she easily braves the large gap between the wagon and the mud below.

He nods at her once she's landed safely on the ground, but grunts as she thanks him again. She shouldn't waste her kindness on him. Arthur tries his best not to look at her as the women all gather together after unloading off of the wagon. He finds himself quite annoyed that the urge to is so insistent.

"Alright," He begins once Uncle finally makes his way over to stand beside Arthur who in planted firmly in front of the ladies, "Remember to stay outta trouble and don't get yourselves noticed."

Mary-Beth hooks arms with her as he talks, though he only makes eye contact with Tilly and Karen, avoiding her side of the group entirely. Karen rolls her eyes at him and when he's done, playfully pushing past him before motioning for the other women to follow.

"We know Arthur, you don't have to be such an over protective nag about it."

A noise of unfiltered indignation rips itself out of Arthur's mouth at her words, something embarrassing between a scoff and a squawk.

--

"See Arthur's not so bad," Mary-Beth murmurs in your ear as she leads you after Karen and Tilly who are striding confidently towards a building with literal swinging doors, "A right mother hen when given half the chance!"

You try not to let her words irritate you. She means well, you can acknowledge that, but her continuous attempts to humanize Arthur are more annoying than helpful. It feels like you are being forced to forgive a man that has purposefully tried to terrify you and while never having beat you, was okay with watching others do it. No amount of helping strangers or chivalry will convince you he wouldn't kill you dead without hesitation if he felt it was necessary.

You only hum at her claim, still largely uncomfortable with the physical familiarity the women keep attempting to engage you in. It takes all your strength to stop yourself from yanking your arm out from the loop of her's. Mary-Beth must sense your unease though, and wordlessly releases your arm. You're grateful she doesn't comment on it.

"C'mon ladies!" Karen exclaims, still leading you all up the street, "Imagine we're in Paris!"

"I imagine Paris and Valentine are easily confused," Tilly remarks rather sharply, her mouth twisting a little as mud squelches under their feet with each step.

You raise an eyebrow at the comment, sympathizing with her remark as you narrowly avoid stepping in a vat of what you assume is horse shit. It certainly smells foul enough, plus the flies are a dead give away. Eventually you all stop before the rickety steps of a saloon that looks like its come straight out of a movie or a high budget reenactment set. The swinging doors, the drunk piano playing wafting out from inside even though you dare say its only noon, completes the the full effect. You stand there a moment and just stare at it, stare at the people walking in and out, at their clothes, at the way they walk, at the way they talk, just everything. The town really cements the fact that you are no longer in the year 2020. An odd mixture of adrenaline and anxiety shoots through your veins then, and its difficult to process it all.  

"Newspaper," You hear yourself mutter as you continue to stare wide eyed at the saloon.

Mary-Beth hears you and turns to shoot you a questioning look.

Realizing you had just said that out loud, you blink back an embarrassed flush and clear your throat.

"I'd like to check out the newspaper that kid was selling, the one we passed on the way into town. I don't need to buy one, I just want to look."

"What are you checking for?" Mary-Beth asks, suddenly becoming very guarded, the most you've ever seen her in fact.

You panic a little, "Just the date and where exactly we are. I'm not from around here, not really familiar with this part of the country."  

Her eyes sharpen and proceed to methodically take apart your expression, examining every twitch and blink like it held a secret. You figure she's weighing whether or not this will be a threat to them -- to the gang. It further emphasizes the void between you. They would always be a them. It would never be a we.

"Alright, I'll come with you. Then we can go get you some new clothes." Mary-Beth eventually agrees, turning to wave at the other girls -- signaling your departure, before Tilly and Karen enter the saloon.

You both trudge along in silence, your anger flaring up at this blatant display of distrust despite all of her efforts so far to prove to you she's 'trying'. Once again you attempt to not to let all the emotion get to you. Trust goes both ways, and no way were you going to take the first step. If they wanted to earn your respect, it would have to be their necks they stick out first, not the other way around. You finally make your way to the boy holding up one of the newspapers he's selling, shouting today's headline. At your approach his eyes light up at the prospect of a customer,

"What will it be ladies? Two copies or one to share?"

You feel a little guilty at getting his hopes up, but you dust off one of your best customer service smiles and watch as he takes it in, a bit shocked at the easy generosity of it. Poor boy's probably used to getting snuffed all day, you can relate, having worked your fair share of minimum wage jobs.

"I'd like to check something actually, just a quick peak at the date if you wouldn't mind?" Comes your question dressed heavily in your matching costumer service voice -- tone smooth and low and friendly.

The boy blinks at you a moment -- stunned, then his cheeks promptly color a splotchy red. Thoroughly flustered he glances at Mary-Beth, but his blush only deepens as she hits him with a lovely smile of her own.

"W-Well I --," The boy begins to stutter.

"I don't even have to hold it," You interrupt before he can refuse, taking advantage of him being caught off guard, "But if I could just take a quick gander at the top right corner there..." You trail off as you do exactly what you're currently suggesting, and lean in slightly to squint at the date.

May 17, 1899, it reads.

1899?! You kick your customer service skills into overdrive, years of using it the only reason why your face doesn't crack into full panic as you force yourself to read a little more.  

The State of New Hanover, The Heart of the Heartlands

This is before they officialized the fifty states, the American civil war happened about three decades ago. Oh god.

"H-Hey are you gonna buy or not?" The boy attempts to assert himself, swinging the newspaper behind him, looking adorable with his face the color of a tomato.

"Unfortunately not, but your kindness is very much appreciated." You sooth, voice like honey, as you give him one last smile -- making it as stunning as possible, before turning away and heading back down the street.  

You make it a few strides out of the boy's ear shot before Mary-Beth elbows you gently in the side. Glancing up, you find her giving you a conspiratorial smirk.

"You never told us you could work a man," She remarks, raising one of her eyebrows in arch amusement.

You can't stop yourself from scoffing, "Man? He was barely thirteen."

"Well either way, I can tell you have a lot of experience handling people."

A shrug serves as your answer, you guess working a minimum wage job does leave you with a certain skill set. Though why Mary-Beth is hinting that it can be utilized in more unconventional ways is beyond you. Eventually you both make it to the general store. You stumble in your stride when you spot Arthur and Uncle sitting on a bench out in front of the store, sharing a large glass bottle of strong looking liquor you assume is whiskey. That's what all the cowboys in the movies drink right? It seems fate loves a good cliché.

For the first time since being tied to the tree, Arthur and you lock eyes. The two of you freeze, Arthur mid drink and you mid step. The whole world seems to grind to a halt as your gazes wrestle, the feeling in your stomach akin to the breath before the first drop of a roller coaster. The moment ends abruptly, before either of you are ready, and at the same time you step in a huge pile of shit, Arthur spills nearly the whole bottle of whiskey down the front of his shirt.

"Fuck!" You squeal in disgust.

"Goddammit!" Arthur curses loudly as he shoots to his feet so the alcohol doesn't splash onto his crotch.

Mary-Beth puts a scandalized hand over her heart at the fowl language, and Uncle coughs his way into a fit of laughter. In a squeamish panic you try in vain to wipe the shit off your shoe, though you only manage to make it worse as the mud proves to be even messier and smears the shit higher up the leather of your shoe. You can hear Arthur continuing to grouch and curse as he shoves the bottle at a wheezing Uncle and leans forward, plucking the fabric of his button-up off his chest in an attempt to stop it from sticking. Almost like an afterthought, Arthur begins flapping the shirt gently as if that'll help it dry faster.

"Better get you some new shoes as well," Mary-Beth suggests through a tight throat, trying her best not to laugh at your expense.

You level her with a very unimpressed glare (which does end up making her giggle) and squash your way to the stairs leading to the store. Once on solid ground you amble your way up onto the deck, trying your hardest not to stare at the sliver of exposed torso Arthur is revealing as he continues to hold his shirt off his stomach, the cotton completely soaked in alcohol.

Taught skin, a trail of hair, a muscled iliac furrow...

"Actually, Y/n?" Mary-Beth calls from behind you, you swivel around and realize belatedly that she hadn't followed you up, "I'm going to check on Karen an' Tilly in the saloon, why don't you an' Arthur go purchase some clothes together? Then we can all meet back up later!"

It shocks you that you feel slightly betrayed by her at the suggestion. You chance a glance at Arthur from the corner of your eye and find him staring at Mary-Beth much like a deer stares at headlights. Great. You valiantly reign in a groan and without another word, turn back around to push your way into the shop. Arthur is least likely to do anything harmful to you in front of a witness like a shopkeeper anyway, the sooner you get this over with the better.

--

Arthur spends another moment squinting suspiciously at Mary-Beth, who only smiles innocently at him before all but skipping off towards the saloon. Uncle has now devolved into slapping his knee in between taking swigs of what's left of the whiskey. Arthur wonders why the Almighty sees fit to test him so vehemently. After a moment of reflection he figures its the least he deserves considering the extent of his sins. Grumbling to himself, he tries not to stomp after her into the general store, mentally calculating how much money he has left on him as he shoulders open the stiff door. Upon entering the shop, the owner looks up and gives Arthur a polite if slightly confused wave -- probably recognizing him from when Arthur came in the shop earlier with Uncle. The shopkeeper promptly goes back to describing, with what sounds like great enthusiasm, various different outfits for...Y/n...to consider.

His heart reels at simply saying her name in the privacy of his own mind.

She's holding herself stiffly, probably as uncomfortable as Arthur is and for as many different reasons as Arthur is too. With the way her head is bent and her eyes track the movement of the shopkeeper's finger as he drags it across page after page, he can tell that despite her studious expression and how easily she nods along with what's being advertised to her, she's overwhelmed. Arthur isn't sure how he figures that exactly, but he does. Fighting with himself for a moment, he debates on whether or not he should insert himself into their conversation. He doesn't want her to misinterpret him and think he cares or anything, but she is taking forever and the slide of his wet shirt against his chest is growing more unbearable by the second.

"Just pick what you like best and get on with it," He grumbles at her, not too unpleasantly as to alarm the shop owner, but firm enough to encourage her to hurry the hell up.

Arthur had taken a few steps forward before speaking, it placed him very close to her side. Closer than he'd meant. He expects fear or hatred to color her expression as she turns to look up at him, but instead her face displays a confusing mix of gratitude, deep mistrust, and most hilariously the embodiment of the word: HELP. It honestly gives Arthur a headache to look at, not envious of the turmoil she's clearly experiencing right now in the slightest. He blinks at her for a moment before shifting his gaze down at the catalogue and flipping back a few pages.

"Do you prefer skirts, dresses, or pants?" Arthur bites out, not quite believing he's doing this, and stares pointedly at anything but her.

"Pants!" She answers in a rush, like she'd just been told she'd inherited a few grand from a dead relative.  

"Okay," Arthur drawls as he quickly finds the female pants section, the options limited to two different cuts, both of which look exactly the same to Arthur but he was never one for fashion (or so Dutch tells him).

"Pick," He instructs, sliding the catalogue back under her nose at the same time she leans in to take a look.

Arthur's temper rankles at how nice the warmth radiating off of her feels against the chilled skin of his chest, even through his soaked shirt. She takes a moment to consider the two different pants, and after what sounds like a defeated huff sheepishly points to the second one. The shop keeper nods and scribbles something down on a notebook he'd grabbed from a drawer behind the counter. Wordlessly Arthur then flips to the significantly more diverse selection of shirts and blouses, blushing furiously as he passes the women's undergarments.

Why in all hell had Mary-Beth not done this with her? She's a woman, surely that would make this more comfortable for Y/n?

But the woman in question seems unconcerned as she scans the options Arthur has displayed for her, nibbling half-heartedly on the fingernail of her right thumb as she appraises the many different tops. Arthur grits his teeth against the softness rising him. They need to hurry this up or he fears he'll...he'll...well he doesn't know, but he knows whatever it is, it's a final kind of feeling and god Arthur fears it. With the hand not pressed to her lips, she points to a plain looking button up, the cheapest one.

"Another." Arthur blurts.

He doesn't realize how that sounds until she shoots him a very indignant look.

"Pick one more for colder weather." He clarifies, mystified he had managed to say that without missing a beat and without stuttering.

Her temper relaxes back down to its usual simmer and she returns her gaze to the catalogue. After a few moments of silence she taps Arthur's hand that's spread wide over the upper edge of the book, calloused fingers holding the catalogue open flat on the counter for her. He snatches his hand back so fast it startles the shopkeeper. The owner gives the two of them an odd look but remains quiet, still wanting their money. She turns the page and points to the second least expensive shirt. It's of a similar cut to the first she'd chosen but the material is wool instead of cotton.

This process repeats for the coats, socks, shoes, gloves, and most embarrassingly -- undergarments. All the articles of clothing she chooses are the cheapest available. Something prickles in Arthur's chest when he realizes she's trying to be considerate. When the shopkeeper asks about her sizes though, she seems at a complete loss for what to say. It's like she's never shopped for clothes before. Though deeply curious, Arthur refrains from asking her anything, feeling like all the energy he had this morning has been thoroughly drained from him even though its only an hour past noon. He's exhausted and he doesn't quite know why.

The owner gives her a measuring look, eyeing her body proportions as best as he can from his spot behind the counter. The shopkeeper is not a proper tailor, so the wrinkle in the man's forehead isn't anything but confusion, and thus Arthur finds himself getting more and more agitated the longer the man stares at her. A breath before Arthur says something stupid, the owner turns and goes to retrieve the garments in the sizes he believes will fit her best. It only takes a couple moments, but its a couple moments too long to be left relatively alone with her. The tension between them is so palpable he could cut it with his hunting knife. The feeling worsens in intensity with each beat of his heart, nearly rising to insurmountable levels before it swiftly plateaus at the arrival of the shopkeeper, who returns with multiple garments draped over his forearm.

"Here Miss, go and try these on to make sure they fit." He instructs politely, nodding to a door down the hall just around the side of the counter.

With a quiet thanks, she collects the clothes and makes a beeline for the dressing room. Arthur doesn't realize his eyes follow her retreat, sticking to the dressing room door even after she disappears behind it, until the shopkeeper clears his throat. Arthur only scowls at him in response and orders a replacement shirt for the one he'd been wearing.

Thank god I didn't ruin my blue one, Arthur thinks as he pays for his new two toned muted grey and red button-up, and all the items Y/n had gotten.

Hosea and Dutch like to tease Arthur about his favorite blue and white striped button-up he's been hauling around for years now. It has holes, the seams are loose, the colors have faded, and it has permanent stains on it, but something about it feels...comfortable. More comfortable than anything else he's ever worn.

(Arthur refuses to acknowledge the fact that it's the first garment of clothing he bought for himself with money he'd earned all on his own, hence why it means so much to him.)

Arthur tries not to pace as he waits for Y/n to finish trying on all her various new clothes. He knows she has a lot to get through but --

"Oh," Arthur finds himself saying, easily gaining the shopkeeper's attention, "Her shoes?"

The shopkeeper raises a finger as his memory sparks and quickly goes to retrieve the humble looking pair she'd picked out earlier. When he brings them out, informing Arthur he'd given his best guess on the size, Arthur nods his thanks and takes the pair from him. Before he can second guess himself, he makes his way over to the dressing room door. Weary of the owner's eyes on his back, Arthur raps his knuckles in two deliberate consecutive knocks against the aging wood of the door. A series of sounds that suggest Y/n had been thoroughly startled puts a grin on Arthur's face without his permission.

"Your shoes," He starts, "I'm leaving them outside the door."

Arthur then demands himself to tell her to hurry up, but no words form, in fact his lips once again act against his will and gently press shut.

"Oh, okay," She replies tensely.

He hovers by the door another moment before the intimacy of talking to someone -- a woman no less -- like this really registers with him, then he thinks of how this probably seems to the shopkeeper and deep color promptly rises along his cheekbones. Arthur takes a shaky step back, then another, until he's in the front of the store pretending to browse the meager collection of pocket watches.

--

You wait until you hear Arthur's footsteps fully recede from the door before continuing to fumble with your undergarments. You have never so desperately wished for a simple modern bra in your life. The shopkeeper had suggested a corset of some sort, but with the clothes that you had picked -- pants, and a 'decidedly unfeminine looking' set of button ups according to the owner -- wearing a corset under all that seemed more of a hinderance than anything else. You'd ended up choosing a version of whatever shift thing you are currently wearing, as it provided enough support for the girls but didn't constrict you entirely like you figure a corset might. Most of the time spent in the dressing room has been you struggling to shuck off your current clothes without resorting to simply tearing them all off. Though you have been spending an equally egregious amount of time trying to correctly adjust all the little strings and ties and clips of your new shift. The slim bloomers you are wearing were made to be worn with the pants you'd ordered, and they were simple enough to slip on, though the extra fabric you'd have to get used to. You wonder idly if this is what it feels like to wear boxers as you finally finish securing your shift and pull the pants up the length of your legs. They fit surprisingly well, a little tight around the ass but in all honesty, at this point you don't care. You just want this torture over with.

The rest of your clothes you try on with more ease, everything fitting okay except for the coat that was about ten times too big but you find you kind of like it that way. Making sure to carefully remove your shit covered shoes without dirtying your hands, you gingerly place them by the door before replacing your used socks with your new ones. You gather your previous clothes up, hoping the shopkeeper has a bag of some kind you can use, and open the door. Infinitely grateful that no one else has walked into the shop, you quickly slip on the shoes Arthur has set neatly in front of the door like he'd said, and immediately find that they're too small. Ignoring your slight flush from all the changing and nerves from trying on so many foreign clothes, you approach the shopkeeper and politely request the next shoe size up. He nods and bumbles to the back again. When he brings you the next pair, you apologize for being such a hassle and quickly exchange shoes. You drop the new pair to the floor and lower to kneel as you stuff your feet in, praying these fit.

"Can we get something to wrap all this up?" Arthur's voice rumbles through you, like the bass notes of a song played at one of the clubs you used to frequent a lot your first year of college.

You clench hard against the urge to jump at how close he is, not having heard him come over as you'd been focused on figuring out how your new boots laced up. They reminded you a little of modern day men's work boots, comfortable and well suited for all the wilderness trudging you figure you'll be doing. The shop owner hands Arthur a few sheets of brown parcel paper, which Arthur immediately tosses down at you. You catch the squares of paper before it hits your face, ignoring his rudeness and weighing how helpful he's been to you in the shop against the desire to say something satisfyingly nasty.

Noticing your restraint Arthur wordlessly brushes past you, broad shoulders barely seeming to fit through the doorway of the dressing room, before closing the door firmly shut behind him. While he changes out of his wet shirt, you struggle to wrap up all your new clothes neatly, feeling bizarrely like you're wrapping a Christmas present when the shopkeeper hands you a rudimentary string to tie everything together. After you finally manage to wrangle all the clothes (save for your oversized coat and all that you're wearing out of the store) into a compact enough bundle, you take the second sheet of paper and repeat the process with your soiled clothes and ruined shoes. You feel bad about the shoes since you'd borrowed them, maybe you could scrub out the shit? Though you don't know how plausible that will be without the aid of stain remover and fabric softener.

You've just finished organizing all your belongings when Arthur emerges from the dressing room in his new shirt. The colors suit him, the fabric hugging him in all the right places too. With his dark hat, tan over coat, and heavy footfalls due to his boots, he almost --

Deeply alarmed at the direction that particular train of thought was going, you angrily remind yourself he's a bloodthirsty killer who would not hesitate to end your life if he thought it was necessary. Despite all that though, he did just pay for your clothing and help you navigate the shopping process with little to no complaints. Torn between saying nothing and thanking him, the habit to be courteous, ingrained in you by your mother, wins out.

"Arthur," It's the first time you've said his name, at least in direct address to him.

His name tastes dangerous on your tongue, a thrill not unlike taking a shot of something strong knowing you're already well over your alcohol limit. You'd stopped once you'd stepped out of the shop behind Arthur and he pauses with his back to you, going completely rigid, having just been about to wake up Uncle who lists precariously in a drunk stupor on the bench where you'd both left him.

"Thank you." That's the second time you've thanked this man, not fond of the fact that its slowly becoming a regular occurrence.

Arthur turns around after a moment and his eyes, shaded under the brim of his hat but very much visible now where they'd only been dark with violence before, are the first things your gaze is drawn to. They're really quite a stunning color, blue shot with green, like an ocean tide caught in a shallow tide pool. The brimming emotion in him blunders against the stiff wall of that anger you'd first caught a true glimpse of when you were tied to the tree, it holds an avalanche of sensation back. You marvel briefly at how it's held so much back for so long.

"You owe me thirty-two dollars and thirteen cents." He says in leu of accepting your gratitude with any sort of grace.  

You only glare, already having expected that he'd ask you to pay him back, though you figure it's the very least he could do after watching you suffer for nearly two weeks straight despite being completely innocent with no proof otherwise save their paranoid suspicions. Not to mention being wrongly accused of being an O'Driscoll and almost getting shot in the face by his gang leader for the apparent crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time! Unlike Arthur, you let your emotions flow freely, righteous fury undisguised and plain to see rotting away the last traces of the odd domesticity you'd formed with him in the shop.

"You, are one of the most fucked up assholes I have ever met." You say in a tone of voice you had only ever used with your abusive ex.

Instead of being taken aback at your words, you watch something in him rise to meet your anger -- a broken kind of relief overtaking his features, like he's finally back in his comfort zone. Something he's familiar with, something he's good at. It simultaneously sickens you and breaks your heart. Everything only ever defined in extremes when it comes to him. Before you two can really tear into each other though, the call of your names by a familiar voice pauses the cataclysmic collision that is moments away from occurring.

"Arthur! Y/n!" Mary-Beth pants as she jogs up to meet you both on the shaded deck, "Oh, Uncle! I didn't see him from over there," She huffs out in a laugh as she closes the distance between the three of you.

It doesn't take long for Mary-Beth to pick up on the truly foul mood Arthur and you share. Her face falls.

"Did, did the shopping not go well? I see you've..." She trails off as she takes in your new clothes.

You suspect in an attempt to lighten the mood, she puts her hands on her hips in mock disappointment and shoots Arthur a significant look.

"What in the blazes have you dressed her in Mr. Morgan? She looks like a ranch hand!"

Arthur seems to struggle to swallow the worst of his temper, apparently not wanting to take it out on Mary-Beth.

Oh so Mary-Beth deserves to be spared but not you?

Your bitterness towards him promptly deepens and suddenly you're exhausted. You miss Kieran -- no, actually you miss your home. You miss your own time. You miss your friends and family.  

"Don't look at me, she picked it all out herself!" Arthur deflects, holding his hands up in surrender.

Mary-Beth purses her lips at this claim but does eventually shift her gaze over to you. She immediately notices that your energy has plummeted, but you can't summon the will to care.

"But if you like it Y/n, then that's all that matters!" Mary-Beth rushes to assure, worried her comment about your fashion sense but more so your previous conversation with Arthur is working against her efforts to find some middle ground with you, to start building some semblance of trust.

You let her search your eyes and put together the realization that she failed. In fact you imagine instead of taking one step forward, you've taken three leaps back. But why bother with them anyway? There's no need to deal with these people any more than strictly necessary. You will find a way to return to your own time, and you're determined to figure it out by any means necessary.

--

Thoughts? Share them if you’d like!! xx

Masterlist

[annewritesfic]

Happy Endings Don't Exist

i've decided to just keep the same title for all the tlc au stuff sjwjwjwjwj

anyways! so this is based off the end of cress, and for context:

- farrah lost her vision in a satellite crash when she hit her head

- erland is the doctor who figured out kate is selene

- chess has been taken captive by a thaumaturge, one of the queen's lackeys, and cairo is terrified for her

- also i don't know if i mentioned it but kate's a cyborg, a 36.98% ratio, left leg is metal pretty much halfway up their thigh, left hand is metal, a bunch of ribs, vertebrae, and half their heart are synthetic, and her eyes are synthetic with a control panel in the back of their head

- eva was supposed to marry levana today, but kate, reese, cairo, mattie, and farrah kidnapped her right before the wedding could start

okay yeah i think that's it

word count: 1703

triggers: mentions of blood/violence/death, mentions of massacre, mentions of a gun, mentions of torture

"It's me, Eva." Kate clenched both hands into fists and stared at their boots. "I'm the lost princess."

"Oh," Eva said softly. "Oh."

"And, um, in case it wasn't obvious, I was being sarcastic about being great," Kate said, unable to take the silence. "I mean- obviously, you've got your own stuff to worry about, but, like, it- it kind of has been a rough few weeks with the ball and Levana and my sister and Erland is dead and Chess is missing and Farrah is blind and Cairo is- I don't know. She's so still and I'm worried about her, but- don't worry, I've got this under contr-"

"Please stop talking."

Kate stopped talking.

Eva leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting. "You. You're Princess Selene?"

"Yeah…"

"The whole time, it was you."

"I mean, I didn't know for awhile, either," Kate said. "Dr Erland figured it out first, but he didn't think to tell me until I was in prison, so…"

"Levana knows, doesn't she?" Eva seemed oddly calm, considering the bombshell Kate just dropped on her head. "That's why she's so fucking determined to find you."

"Yeah."

"And it was you this entire goddamn time."

"You know, you're taking this way better than I thought you would."

Eva leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed. "It-it makes sense, kind of. In a weird way." She was quiet for a moment, then cracked a smile. "Although I always kinda pictured the princess, like… in a dress."

Kate managed a laugh. "That's probably not happening anytime soon."

"And I thought that if I could just… find her, it would be so easy. We'd present her to the world as the true queen of Luna, and Levana would just crawl and hide in a hole. I didn't think…" Eva took a shaking breath. "I never thought she'd know. That she'd be fighting it."

"I don't think you know your fiancée very well."

Eva's eyes opened, and she stared at Kate with a steady, determined gaze that made Kate forget to breathe for a moment. "Okay, no more secrets. I'm done with big reveals from you, so if there's anything else you're keeping from me, I wanna hear it now."

Kate thought for a moment. Big secrets… cyborg. Lunar. Princess. Eva knew it all.

Well, maybe one more secret. They might be just… a tiny bit in love with her.

But obviously she couldn't tell her that.

"I can't cry," they whispered, sitting down against the opposite wall.

"I knew that," Eva said.

"Wha- how?"

"Your guardian said something about it." Eva ran a fingernail up and down a metal seam on the floor, almost nervously. "And, um… I looked at your files. Your medical records."

"You what?"

"I'm sorry, but-but you were a fugitive and I needed to know more." Eva paused. "I didn't want to, though. I felt- it was too much of an invasion on your privacy. I'm sorry, Kate."

Kate fought to breathe slowly and steadily. "No, it's- no more secrets."

"Are your eyes really…?"

"Synthetic," Kate confirmed.

Eva moved a little closer across the floor. "And that's why you can't cry?"

"It's not like I need the tear ducts for lubrication, and they got in the way of… I have a retina scanner and like, a really small netscreen in my eye." Kate tapped one metal finger against the side of her head. "So there's a lot of wiring… fuck, I can't believe I'm telling you this."

"I think it's pretty fucking awesome."

A laugh ripped from Kate's throat, oddly pleasant.

Eva reached for Kate's hands. "Can I see?"

Kate rolled their eyes, but sighed and nodded. Eva stared into her eyes, almost like she was trying to see right through to Kate's control panel, but then she shook her head with an expression of wonder. "You'd never know."

Embarrassed, Kate bit her lip. "Look at the bottom of my left iris." They pulled up a news feed they'd been watching before the ship had even landed in New Beijing, from the African Union. She didn't bother turning on the volume, letting the news anchor stay muted.

"Wait, is that-"

"Yeah, that's it."

"It's tiny. Just- really just a dot."

"It looks bigger to me." Kate dismissed the news feed, trying not to think about how close Eva was, or how she was still holding their hands.

Eva studied Kate's face - not the retina scanner or the synthetic eyes, just Kate. "I'm sorry I had you arrested. But I really am glad you're alright."

"Don't you hate me for, you know… shooting you?"

Eva's lips twitched up into a smile. She dropped Kate's human hand to pick up the metal one in both hands, studying the tips of the shiny grey fingers. "You know, none of the diagrams I looked at said anything about a gun."

"I like to maintain an air of mystery."

"Funnily enough, I've noticed."

Kate bit their lip again. "The hand is new. It's… plated with one hundred percent titanium. And that's yet another thing I can't believe I'm telling you."

Eva lifted Kate's hand to her lips and pressed a kiss against the cool metal. "Kate?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Just to be sure, you're not manipulating me right now, right?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Just checking." Then Eva slid her arms around Kate's waist and kissed her.

Immediately, Kate's retina display went crazy. INCREASED LEVELS OF DOPAMINE AND ENDORPHINS. REDUCED AMOUNTS OF CORTISOL. ERRATIC PULSE. RISING BLOOD PRESSURE-

Kate dismissed the retina display and kissed back.

Eva shifted to sit back and pull Kate closer without even once breaking the kiss, and both of them smiled into it, relaxing after weeks of stress piling on both of them. Kate broke the kiss and pressed her forehead against Eva's, breathing easier than they had in weeks. Eva gently rubbed circles against Kate's back, calming and soothing, and even though every person on Earth was probably freaking out over the missing empress and determined to find them, Kate had never been calmer.

But then the retina display, alone against the darkness of Kate's closed eyes, caught their attention.

FARAFRAH.

LUNARS.

MASSACRE.

Kate pulled away, huddling against the wall, every happy emotion from kissing Eva quickly being replaced by panic and fear.

"Kate-"

Kate shook her head frantically, and Eva stopped talking for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she said after a pause. "I shouldn't have- shit, Kate, I'm so sorry-"

"No, that's not- it wasn't-" Kate dug their hands into their hair. "Levana."

Eva inhaled sharply. "What did she…?"

"She- she retaliated," Kate managed to say, focusing on the news feed. "She attacked- she attacked Farafrah, the- fuck, that's the town that helped us." The air went cold, and Kate tried desperately to process this. Pictures flashed across the display with so much blood.

"Kate-"

Kate grabbed a wrench and hurled it against the wall in frustration, then slumped against the wall, shaking.

"Has Levana issued any demands?" Eva asked, infuriatingly calm.

"I don't know." Kate grit her teeth. "But they're all dead, and it's my fault. Because they helped me."

"It's not-"

"It is my fault, Eva!"

"Kate, listen to me." A hand settled on her shoulder. "You didn't kill them."

"I basically did."

"Did they know the risk when they let you stay?"

Kate didn't say anything.

"Maybe they thought it was a risk worth taking. Because they believed in you."

"If you're trying to help, you're doing a really shitty job," Kate spat.

"Kate-"

"You wanna know another secret? The biggest secret?" Kate swallowed down the familiar lump in their throat that said you should be crying. Would be, if you were human. "I'm scared, Eva."

Those words hung in the air for a moment.

"I'm scared of her army, and of what she can do, and I'm supposed to be strong and brave but I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know how I'm supposed to overthrow her, and even if I did, I don't know how to be a queen. People are relying on me and now they're dying because of a fantasy that I can maybe save them, but- what if I can't?"

Eva pulled her into her arms, and Kate buried their face in her soft shirt, a headache pounding behind her eyes. "I'm scared."

"I know how you feel."

"Not really."

"Close to it, at least."

"No, because-" Kate curled her human fingers into Eva's shirt. "What if I'm becoming like her?"

"You aren't."

"How can you be so sure?" Kate demanded. "Because I manipulated soldiers in France. And your advisor today. And Cairo, and I- I keep thinking sacrifices have to be made for the good of everyone, right? And then there are the mirrors- I think I'm starting to get why she hates them so much." They started shaking. "And… I tortured her thaumaturge today. I tortured her. And I almost enjoyed it."

"Katie, look at me." Eva sat back and cupped Kate's face with one hand, staring into their eyes. "I know you're scared, and believe me, you're allowed to be. You have every right to be scared. But you are not Queen Levana."

"You can't know that."

"Yeah? I do."

"She's my aunt, you know."

"And my grandfather signed the Cyborg Protection Act." She brushed Kate's hair out of her face. "But here we are."

Kate almost smiled at that.

"Now, how about we never talk about you being related to her again? Because I'm technically still engaged to her, and that's really weird on so many levels."

Kate managed a laugh as Eva pulled them back into her arms. Her headache started to fade, and the news feed drifted out of their gaze. Even with the shit show of Kate's life… Eva felt safe.

"You won't tell anyone, right?"

"'course not."

"And if I'm a shitty princess?"

"I don't think Luna needs a princess. I think they need a revolutionary."

Kate turned that word over in their mind. "I like that more than princess."

"And then, once this is over, I do have some experience in the ruling-a-country field," Eva pointed out. "So I'll help you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

[everywhereallofthetime]

Some Girl ... Part 5

Word Count: 2.23k

Warnings: None.

// * // * //

Charlotte and Shawn came back downstairs together. They really hadn’t been alone upstairs for long, but the smirks and raised eyebrows they received made them blush.

“Win big!” Charlotte called after Shawn, with a little giggle, as he made his way toward the dining room where the rest of the boys were waiting.

Elisa called Charlotte over. “Jack and Will are smoking cigars and playing pool downstairs. Come and sit with me and Didi. Let’s talk.”

Charlotte curled up in the corner of the sectional between her aunts. Diana handed her a glass of pinot noir and pushed a few strands of Charlotte’s hair from her eyes. “I’m sorry about Valerie.”

“You never have to apologize for Valerie. I told Elisa that I’d rather be here with all of you. I meant it. And I don’t know, but today turned out to be kind of amazing.”

Both Elisa and Diana couldn’t help but notice how Charlotte’s gaze kept landing on Shawn in the dining room. There was an unobstructed view between the two rooms. It wasn’t exactly open concept, but it was close enough. Whenever he smiled, she unconsciously smiled. They also noticed that Shawn’s eyes frequently searched for Charlotte, too.

// * // * //

Elisa groaned, bringing Charlotte’s eyes back to her. “I give up! It’s been eating me up all night!”

Charlotte wondered when her aunt would break. She expected it the moment she asked her to sit with them and talk. She was surprised that it had taken almost half an hour.

“I also need to know what’s going on,” Diana added. “Spill.”

“About?”

“Don’t be facetious, Charlotte Erelah Dempsey. Peter. You wouldn’t talk about him. At all. Ever. And suddenly he’s in my house, and Bash is crazy about him, and you seem a little crazy about him, too.”

“Do not,” she argued, halfheartedly.

“Do so,” Elisa countered.

“You even said he was a really great guy,” Diana said.

“He is. Do you like him?” Charlotte wondered.

Diana covered her niece’s hand with her own. “Honey, we adore him.”

Elisa asked, “What happened? And when did everything change?”

It was time to confess. Starting with her aunts, it should be easy.

“I first need you to promise me that you won’t get upset.” She met and held both pairs of their eyes for a moment.

“Why would we get upset?” Diana asked.

“Because I lied to you.”

“About what?” her aunts asked at the same time.

“Peter isn’t Bash’s father.”

Elisa’s eyes widened. “Does he know that?”

“Yes, he knows. We’ve both been lying to you, but I don’t want you to be upset with him. This was all my idea. I just coerced him into going along with it...

“He’s going through some shit right now. He needed to be surrounded by people not in his regular circle. Somewhere he could just forget and let his guard down. He needed tonight.

“He was the one who didn’t want to continue the ruse. He likes you all so much. He was feeling guilty. He’s afraid that telling the truth will ruin the night. I tried to assure him it wouldn’t, but he still might not be able to tell the boys. Please don’t say anything to them until either he or I do.”

“I’m getting the feeling there’s a lot more to this story,” Diana said softly.

“Go on,” Elisa encouraged.

“Well, his name isn’t Peter either. It’s Shawn. Shawn Mendes.”

“Wait. I know that name,” Diana stated. “How do I know that name?”

“Valerie is quite aware of him. And I know you’ve heard him on the radio. He’s Toronto born and raised, but he’s a global popstar. He even has a documentary and concert on Netflix.” Charlotte turned on Netflix but muted the volume. She pulled up In Wonder. “You can watch it tomorrow. Not now while he’s in our house,” she said, turning the television off again.

“Are the two of you dating?” Diana whispered.

“No. We’re just friends.”

“You kissed him outside the house.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at them. “You shouldn’t have been spying. He was overthinking things. I only kissed him to distract him.”

“He kissed you back,” Elisa said.

“That was just...a reaction.”

“Some reaction,” she murmured, taking a sip of her wine.

“He doesn’t need, nor does he want, a girlfriend right now. He’s barely four months post-split from his ex. She left him a mess. He really thought she was ‘the one’. Once you watch the documentary, you’ll see. She’s all over it. Today is the first day that I’ve seen him smile or heard him laugh since they broke up. He needed tonight,” she reiterated.

They sat in silence for a bit, Charlotte tired of talking, her aunts digesting everything she told them. Now all three of them kept glancing over at Shawn. He was starting to notice.

“Okay, he’s freaking out a little bit. Stop staring,” Charlotte chuckled. “I’m going to check on him. I’ll grab another bottle of wine on my way back.”

// * // * //

Charlotte paused by Shawn’s side and tangled her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck. He placed his hand on her lower back, right above the swell of her bottom, and looked up at her. “Everything okay?” he whispered.

She nodded and smiled reassuringly. Fingers further buried in his hair, she kissed the top of his head. She could smell the sun and chlorine and a scent that was just him.

He visibly relaxed.

“I’m grabbing another bottle of wine. You boys need more beer? Or maybe some water?” she asked. “You’re all starting to get a little fuzzy,” she chuckled, gathering the empty bottles and scattered tumblers and shot glasses.

She returned with a bottle of water for each of them and plunked a big bowl of Elisa’s homemade trail mix on the table. “Hydrate! Eat. You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning if you don’t.”

“Wait, wait,” Shawn said, gently catching her wrist before she could walk away. “I need some good luck; I’m getting my ass handed to me.”

He pulled her back toward him. She sat down on his lap and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He tapped his cheek and she leaned in to kiss him. His right hand held his cards; his left arm slid around her waist and he rested his hand where her upper thigh met her hip. It remained there as she helped him play through his next two poker hands.

Shawn brushed his lips across Charlotte’s knuckles before she left the table. He didn’t let go of her hand until he absolutely had to.

// * // * //

Charlotte placed the new bottle of wine on the nearby coffee table and again settled into the corner of the couch.

The first thing out of Elisa’s mouth was, “You looked a little cozy there.”

“You’ve been pretty cozy all night,” Diana added. “Are you sure there isn’t more there, between the two of you?”

“I’m sure,” Charlotte chuckled. “You know how I am.”

“I do. I see you with him and I worry,” Elisa whispered. “I don’t want the next broken heart to be yours.”

Charlotte clasped Elisa hands and met her eyes. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

The gravity of the moment was broken when “Last Call” by Hudson Thames began to play through all the speakers in the house. She believed it was Rob, and it was unmistakably Shawn, who started to sing while Josh, Mason, and Doug, chimed in at the chorus.

“I think they’re all a little drunk,” Charlotte giggled.

When the boys yelled, “ladies”, Charlotte and her aunts yelled, “woo!”, and on “fellas”, her uncles, who had just come up from the basement and entered the living room, yelled “yeah!” And everyone started laughing.

Charlotte called out, still giggling, “Uncle Will, it might be time to take your wife and sons home!”

// * // * //

It was nearly midnight. Will, Diana, Josh, Doug, and Rob had gone home. Elisa and Jack had turned in for the night. Mason had passed out on the couch. That left only Charlotte and Shawn.

Shawn was pleasantly buzzed and loose and soft. They were sharing the part of the sectional that Mason wasn’t occupying, sitting turned toward each other, talking quietly.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” Charlotte asked.

“I had an amazing time tonight,” he smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear, grazing her jawline with his fingertips.

“I’ll take you home, back to your folks’, when you’re ready.” She reached out to touch his necklace.

“I’m not ready, but that’s just me being selfish.” He placed his hand on her leg and drew little circles with his thumb. “I can call an Uber and let you go to bed. Won’t Bash be waking up soon for another bottle?”

“Within the hour, so it wouldn’t make much sense for me to go to bed before then. You might as well stick around for a little while longer.”

Shawn’s phone suddenly started blowing up.

“Is everything okay?” she wondered.

He finished typing his response and said, with a little laugh, “Yeah, it’s just my stupid, way more drunk than me, friends trying to convince me to meet them at the bar.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.” He showed her his phone screen, which read:

Already buzzed. In good company. Call u tomorrow.

A follow up text came through while she was still looking at his phone. She blushed and giggled. “I think your friends think you’re about to get laid.”

He blushed even darker than she had at their vulgarity. “I’m sorry. My friends are assholes,” he laughed, uneasily, muting his phone and placing it face down on the side table.

“My best friends are my cousins,” she said, motioning to Mason. “Also guys our age. They try not to be too crass around me, but sometimes they forget. Believe me,” she reassured him, with a soft laugh, “I’ve heard it all.”

Just then Mason groaned, sat up, and tried to remember where he was.

Shawn chuckled. “I’ll help him upstairs.

“Come on, man,” he said.

// * // * //

Mason drunkenly slapped Shawn’s face without any real force behind it and slurred, “You’re a good guy. I like you.”

“I like you too, man,” Shawn chuckled as he pushed Mason down onto his bed.

“And you’re really good-looking.”

“Thanks?”

“I can see why Charlie likes you. She’s really pretty, too.”

“Yes, she’s beautiful.”

Mason grabbed Shawn’s wrist. “Do you like her?”

“I like her a lot. She’s awesome.”

“But do you care about her?”

For the relatively short amount of time he had known her, he did. “I do.”

He grasped the hem of Shawn’s t-shirt and pulled him closer. Just before he closed his eyes he said, “Don’t do anything to hurt her. Don’t do anything to make me not like you.”

“I promise.”

“You’re a good guy,” Mason murmured, and in the next moment he was asleep again.

Shawn left a large glass of water and a couple of ibuprofens on Mason’s end table.

// * // * //

Shawn held his hand palm up between them.

“You’re good company, Mendes,” Charlotte said, with a soft smile, linking her hand with his.

“Does that mean you’re going to give me your number?” he asked.

“If you’re going to use it.”

He covered his heart with his other hand. “Oh, that hurts,” he teased. “Of course I’ll use it. You will be begging me to stop using it before long.” He offered her his phone.

“Fine,” she teased, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. She reluctantly unlinked their hands to enter her info and then used his phone to take a selfie. “So you don’t forget me.”

“I won’t forget you,” he said softly and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. When she passed his phone back to him, he took a photo of them together.

“My Uber is approaching,” he sighed. He was in a comfortable, happy little bubble and just wanted to stay there. He eventually stood and pulled Charlotte to her feet.

She walked with him out to the front sidewalk.

He wrapped her in the kind of hug she wished would never end. “Thank you. For everything. You were the angel I needed today.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “If you ever need a safe place to go, call me.” She let her hands slide to his chest. “I’ll feed you and we can binge watch whatever you want, or I’ll listen if you just need to talk.” She let her hands fall away from him. “But If I never speak to you or see you again, I want you to know that I will never forget today.”

He reached out and brushed his fingertips down the outside of her upper arm. “Why do you keep thinking I’m not going to want to see you again?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Because you’re Shawn Mendes?”

“Bullshit,” he said softly. “I know you don’t give a fuck who I am. So why?”

“I’ve been let down too many times in the past,” she breathed. “Sometimes it’s easier to not expect anything.”

Just before Shawn slid into the backseat of the Uber, he looked over his shoulder back at her. “I won’t be someone who lets you down, Charlotte.”

She desperately wanted to believe him.

// * // * //

Part 6

[jaefluenza]

Puzzle Piece | Doyoung x Deaf!reader

“And somehow, you’ve become my everything.. my missing puzzle piece.”

Genre: fluff/angst

Pairing: Idol!Doyoung x Deaf!reader

Warning: sexual harassment, rape attempt.

puzzle piece by nct dream (ft. dreamies & 127)

The walk to your workplace is as peaceful as it usually been. You look at people strolling around the street with friends, laughing about nothing you know about. You wonder what are they laughing about. You also notice some people plugging a pair of wireless earphones. That must be the new design, huh. You thought. You wonder what it feels like to hear and talk. You’re always curious about music, tone, and voice. You wonder how do they sound and how does it feel to listen to them.

You always believe you’re meant to be deaf and mute. You had so much hardships in accepting your condition and with the help of your parents, you gained the confidence to accept yourself and have this mindset that being different is okay. Unfortunately, your parents died on a car accident when you were 17 years old. So you live with your grandmother. Your parents left you a small school for special needs to take care of where you teach sign language to deaf or mute kids. The principal is your father’s friend, someone that you think is odd. He always flirt with you, and sometimes he daringly touches you. You feel so uncomfortable working around him but you can’t leave the special school because you love the precious kids there.

When you get in the school, you greet the people who worked there as you walk towards the teacher’s room. After putting your things on the locker, someone approached you to tell you that the principal has requested for your presence at the office. You nod as you walk anxiously to the office.

You bow, “Good morning, sir. What can I help you?”

He smiled as he signals you to come closer. You obediently walk 2 steps forward.

“Good morning, beautiful. How are you today?”

You flinched before stepping backward from him. He was touching your cheeks and it disgusts you so much.

“What can I help you sir?” You emphasized.

“Alright. Alright. Today, our school received a special donation from the idol group called NCT 127. They will come and try interacting with the kids, and you’re gonna accompany them in the class.”

You tilt your head confusingly. You want to ask more but you hate being in the same room with the principal so you casually bow and head out. On the way back to the classroom, you notice your fellow teacher and tap her shoulder.

“Do you know what’s an idol group? The principal told me they’re coming here for charity.”

Dani smiled at you as she motions back, “They’re a group of singer. I’ve seen them, they’re so handsome. Daebak!”

Ah, boys. You thought. You start to wonder if they know how to communicate with sign language.

You went back to the classroom to greet your students. Oh, how much you love them, the pure souls who needs a lot of attention and affection. You love taking care of them, it reminds you about how your parents used to give you lots of love.

“Hey, everyone!” You greet the students as they smile at you innocently.

“Today, a group of singers is coming to our school, and they’re gonna interact with you guys. Are you guys happy to meet them?”

They nod excitedly as you smile back at them. While waiting for the mentioned boy group to come, you started the class, unaware that what’s gonna happen next will change your life forever.

The boys sit quietly in their van on the way to the school, until Taeyong starts a conversation awkwardly. “Is there any of you familiar with sign language?”

They all shake their heads in unison. “Well, do we have a translator or something?” Mark asked.

Yuta nods along, “Right, it might be quite hard to communicate with the kids.”

“Well, we didn’t hire any professional interpreter because they promised us they will help you all to communicate in the class. They said they have a common teacher there,” The manager explained.

“It’ll be alright. I’ve learned some basic sign language last night.” Doyoung claims proudly.

“I really can’t wait to meet the kids.”

After being informed that the visitor has arrived, you immediately told the kids that they’ll be seeing the group. They excitedly abandon their crayons and papers. You smiled before noticing Dani in front of the class. You told the kids to behave well and leave to open the door. Amazed by their amount, you bow to greet them.

Dani smiled at you before presenting you to the boys. “This is Y/n, our sign language teacher and the homeroom teacher of this class. She will help you communicate with the kids and I will interpret your conversation.”

Taeyong nods excitedly, “Thank you, so much. We’d like to learn sign language as well.”

You invite them to enter the class. The boys start waving at the excited kids.

“Woah, they’re so cute.” Mark said.

The kids wave at them cutely, smiling at the good looking boys.

“So, they are a group of singers who will learn with you today. Please welcome them!”

The kids start welcoming the boys in sign language. Dani interpret them, makes the boys smile widely.

“Hi, we are NCT 127! Nice to meet you, kids!”

The kids clap in sign language, and the boys start imitating their clap.

After class ended, the boys will have lunch with the kids. You were so amazed with how they were enthusiastic to communicate with the kids. They were learning so fast as well. You were about to go with Dani when a staff told you to go to the principal’s office. It feels weird, he never called you twice in a day like this. But you just go as you were told.

“Excuse me, sir. What can I help you?” You greet politely.

“Come here, why are you standing from afar like that?” He engages.

You step closer timidly, feeling weird with everything.

He immediately holds your hand tightly, making you flinch in shock.

You tried to scream but nothing came out. You use your entire strength to get out of his grasp, but of course he would be ten times stronger than you. You helplessly pray that anyone would help you as he dragged you to the corner of the room.

You begged him with your eyes, but he won’t listen. You tried to hit something around you to make a big sound, but then he slap your face.

Doyoung was just outside the toilet when he heard a big sound. He walks towards the sound curiously as he heard whimpers and small cries. He realized something is wrong when it comes from the principal’s office. He peeks through the keyhole and he gasped.

He saw you being laid down on a small table in the corner of the room. He didn’t think twice before knocking the door harshly. He hopes the maniac will stop his action but instead, “I’m not welcoming any guest right now.”

Doyoung curses loudly. He opened the unlocked door angrily. “Mr. Principal.” He called. You feel relieved when the psycho let go of your hand and push you out of his way. 

The principal moves around awkwardly at the presence of Doyoung. “Uh, What can I help you?” You know he can’t snap at him from bursting into the room because he’s one of the donators for their school. Doyoung said nothing. Instead, he walks towards you who’s crying soundlessly on the floor, feeling traumatized. He helps you standing up, fixing your outfit gently. He holds your hand tightly, leading the way to the door. “I am the witness of this sexual assault. I have the evidence. You will get arrested for this.”

You let yourself get dragged to the back side of the school. Doyoung pulls you closer to his body, soothing your worst mental state. He says nothing as he let you sob on his shirt. Still caressing your back, he sighs heavily. He wants to say only good things to do, but he’s not confident in his sign language skills. Still hugging you tightly, he takes his phone out of his pocket.

He typed something on his phone, before tapping your shoulder gently to show you what he typed. You wipe your tears before looking on the screen,

“Hey, everything’s going to be okay. I’m here for you, and I will never let anyone hurt you ever again. Cheer up, okay? :)”

You smiled at his words. You nod and smile weakly. You type back, “What’s your name?”

He excitedly types back, “Kim Doyoung. You can call me Doey, I’m basically a rabbit.”

You remember his name, Kim Doyoung, your hero.

After the incident with the principal and Doyoung, the school was investigated by the police as Doyoung has promised. The principal is arrested and now you became the new principal and the school’s rightful owner.

You texted Doyoung to express your gratefulness and you promised to treat him some food in your favorite restaurant. He happily accepted.

So, today on Thursday, you set an appointment with him in your favorite grilling place. You nervously check your appearance while waiting for him to arrive. A minute later, someone taps your shoulder gently. You turned around only to see a man with a mask and hat. You tilt your head confusingly. But then, he opens his mask a little bit and wave. You smiled as you waved back at him. He sits in front of you and puts his phone on the table, indicating you to read what’s on the screen.

“Hi, I’m Doyoung. I’m sorry, but I have to wear a mask and hat. I can’t be spotted by anyone, it could be dangerous for you.”

You nod at him, smiling at how he still looks so good despite the things covering him. You signal him to choose the menu. He immediately ordered something before shifting around in his seats. You signal him with a simple “What’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat nervously, before signaling you to focus on him. You did what he told you.

“Is this a date?” He signs. 

You let out a silent gasp before smiling widely. You take your little notebook from your bag before writing the answer for him.

“If you see it as a date, then it’s a date! ^^”

He laughs and you smile ear-to-ear even though you can only imagine what would his voice be like. 

At Saturday, Doyoung asked you to go to a small pet cafe owned by his aunt. When you peek by the window, your eyes sparkle in amusement upon seeing what’s happening inside. Doyoung and probably his aunt sitting on the bench, his aunt teaching him words in sign language.

(from inside)

Doyoung’s aunt instructed, “This is how you greet her. Instead of just waving, this means hi, how is your day? And this means did you eat?” Doyoung smiled before he clapped in delight. He knew his aunt could help him to learn sign language so that he would be able to communicate with you. His aunt was a voluntary teacher for kids with disabilities.

“Woah, cool. Oh, it’s her!” Doyoung’s eyes lit up when he saw you entering the pet cafe, wearing a beautiful white sundress with a fluffy bright outer. You waved at him, and as soon as his aunt moves forward to hug you, you feel so happy inside that someone besides your co-worker at school can communicate to you.

Doyoung immediately take his learning into practice as he stands beside his aunt to greet you.

“Hi, how’s your day?” He signed.

You replied happily, “My day is fine.”

You played with the dogs and even though Doyoung is still learning, nothing can stop you from having fun with him. You took dozens of pictures with him and the pets. You really feel like it was the happiest day you have. Not only your students listen to you without any chaos, but also you spend the rest of the day with your favorite person after your parents. Yes, Doyoung has become an important guy in your heart.

After the play, you bit your goodbye to his aunt and promise her to come again someday. He also bid his goodbye and walks away with you.

When he reach the block where he’s supposed to go left, he taps your arm to tell you something.

“Do you want to go to a concert with me?” He looks like he prepared himself to tell you that.

You tilt your head in confusion, why would he take you to a concert when you can’t even hear or feel the music.

He scanned your expression before coming to a realization that you might feel offended. He hurriedly take out his phone to write something. You wait patiently as he writes down what he would like to say.

“Don’t misunderstand. I have something to tell you at the concert. I’m working hard to learn sign language, so I can translate the songs to you. I’ll dance while interpreting ;)”

You smiled and nod. “I’ll come with you.”

A smile appears on his face as he understands what you told him. After bidding your farewell to him, you walk away from him, heading back home.

A month later, you go to the concert as you promised him. You were so scared to be judged or alienated. You look around your surroundings. There are so many girls holding a green block stick. You look up at every banner put up around the concert hall. NCT Dream? Why do they have the same first name as Doyoung’s group. I should’ve googled them first, you thought.

You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. It’s a text from Doyoung.

“Come to the 6b hall.” He wrote.

You immediately come to the hall he told you. You smile as soon as you found him near the big door, waving at you. You run towards him and hug him tightly, as if telling him that it was so scary to be surrounded by a lot of strangers.

He hugs you back, caressing your back. He took your hand before dragging you to the vip lounge. You stare at the big glass reflecting the huge concert venue. You looked at the stage in awe before asking him, “do you usually perform on that big stage?”

He nods, “Yeah, I performed here last year.”

As the concert begins, you remember their names after Doyoung showed you everything about NCT Dream. You acknowledge that these boys are Doyoung’s precious little brothers. It makes you excited to even just seeing them dance under the shining lights.

You can say that you enjoy the concert, with Doyoung beside you on the vip seats. Around you, there are no screaming girls with their merchandise but only Doyoung’s managers and bodyguards. As the boys finished their fifth song, you clap along with the audiences. You look at Doyoung, thanking him for interpreting the beautiful songs for you. On the sixth song, the lights around the stage are strangely turned off and the stage went dark.

You look at Doyoung, asking what is happening. But he’s only smiling, instead, taking your hands before he signs, “I have something to tell you. I will interpret this special song named Puzzle Piece.” He makes both of you stand as the lights now spotting on both of you. You furrowed your eyebrow, feeling anxious that everyone’s attention is now on you and him.

“What’s happening?” You ask him who is now standing in front of you. Before he gets to answer your concerned question, the lights around the stage were turned back on. The spotlight on both of you and the stage are connecting into an unexpected performance for everyone in the auditorium.

“As the suffocating world

I’m heading to is getting bigger

It makes me feel an emptiness somehow

What part would I take forward

and also what shape would be like

Even when myself can’t come to know it”

You glance back at the boys as they sing their heart out, sitting altogether on the stage beautifully, and then back to Doyoung.

“As if solving up the scattered pieces

We are matching up our stories

Inside the empty spot in my heart, there’s

a piece called you taking place”

You never know that there’s a man who can be this beautiful and that man right here is now confessing through your own language.

“I just know it first

At the moment I looked into your eyes”

You stare at him as he dances the language in a beautiful manner.

“You’re my missing puzzle piece,

Finally I solved it

You filled every piece of my heart without fail

You complete it all

And somehow you’ve become my everything

My missing puzzle piece”

You looked at the huge screens around the venue when you and Doyoung was on two of the screens. Your teary eyes make their ways to Doyoung, feeling touched by his efforts to confess his feelings to you, especially in front of the fans. You couldn’t hear everything around you, but you can feel the claps and hollers when Doyoung kneels in front of you. He stares into your eyes deeply before moving his hand gently to sign.

“Will you be my puzzle piece?”

Your eyes sparkled with tears before nodding softly. Doyoung stands up quickly and hug you in front of the huge crowds that are now watching the both of you, not the singing boys on the stage. After the song ended, the dreamies scream happily, cheering for their older brother. “Please give supports to both of them, everyone.” Renjun ended.

After the show ended, Doyoung leads you by holding your hand tightly in his to the backstage. He introduced you to the boys and they welcome you with warm greetings.

You smile ears to ears at their cuteness, while paying attention to them introducing themselves with sign language. Jisung and Chenle were so confident with their sign language, adding several information that they learned a lot to communicate to you. You really appreciate their efforts just to talk to a nobody like you. You clap for them, trying to tell them that they did a wonderful job on the stage.

“Noona, please come visit our dorm someday and teach us more!” Jisung signs with a little clumsy movement. You laugh and nod at him excitedly.

Doyoung glares playfully at the younger boy, “Why should she come to your dorm? She’s mine. You can’t have her like that.”

Haechan scoffs, “Hyung, how can you forget that we’re the one who made you two happened?”

While the other laugh and smirk, Doyoung sighs in defeat, “Haechan and his friends are scary.” As you laugh at him and the boys.

Jaefluenza masterlist

[purpleandgreen13]

Stardew Valley Inktober 2021

Inspired by @buttonso 's SDV Inktober list, I'm writing a one shot every day for October. I have done 4 already (the fifth will be later today) but thought I would post them here too.

October 1st Junimo

Inspired by the Star Trek original series 'The Trouble with Tribbles'

Dammit Lewis, I’m a doctor not a vet.” Grumbled Doctor Harvey at his clinic where he, Marnie and Mayor Lewis are stood looking the five tiny figures laying in a large cardboard box on the examination table. They are covered in scratches and making distressed cooing noises.

“Please Dr Harvey?” Pleads Marnie, her eyes filling with tears, “I found them in the barn, the cows didn’t mean to rough them up, they were just curious.”

“What are you doing with these creatures anyway Marnie? Junimo’s import to Ferngill is strictly controlled.” Doctor Harvey peers over his glasses.

Marnie looks shifty all of a sudden and Mayor Lewis shuffles uncomfortably, “Lewis got me a special license!” Marnie protests a little too loudly, “We’re breeding them as pets. Look how cute they are! People are going to love them!”

“You are aware of their other reputation?” Harvey asks, “They’re prodigious breeders. They can have up to seven litters a week and they’re banned in some places. In the wild they have plenty of predators but in domestic situations you can easily get overrun."

“Please Doc. We can make it worth your while.” Lewis wheedles.

“Lewis. I don’t want your money, except for the medical bills. I don’t like seeing any creature in pain. Leave them with me, I’ll make sure they’re well looked after and I’ll patch up their wounds, give them a course of antibiotics and they should be right as rain in about four days.”

“Thank you so very, very much, Doctor Harvey.” Marnie gushes with relief as she clutches Harvey’s hand. Harvey frowns. This is very much against his better judgement, but the animals need care and he WAS the closest thing this town had to a vet, he supposed.

Once Marnie and Lewis left, Harvey lifted the blanket covering the box.

“Oh Yoba.” He muttered quickly lowering the blanket again. Already the junimos, which he had to grudgingly admit were cute, were In flagrante delicto, busy at work in the cardboard box creating the next generation of apple-like creatures.

Harvey mused that the small animals were getting more action than most people in the valley, including him.

He fetched his medical equipment and carefully lifted each Junimo out of the box, whenever one was free from its activities. Each one squeaked in protest as Harvey checked it over, applied antiseptics to cuts and grazes, then administered antibiotic in a small pipette to each of the five Junimos. They’d need a few days care, but they were mostly badly shaken up. They would all be fine, he was confident.

He supposed he should separate them into males and females, but honestly, Harvey had absolutely no way of telling them apart, so he left the blanket on the box after giving them some guinea pig food provided by Abigail and a bowl of water, and retired for the night.

Maru was first in the clinic the next morning and when Harvey entered the reception area, still a little bleary-eyed from sleep, she looked furious.

“What- what’s up Maru?” Harvey asked nervously.

“Why are you keeping so many animals in such a tiny space Doc? It’s downright cruel!”

“What are you talking about?”

There are almost 50 Junimos squished into a cardboard box in the hospital section! I can’t believe you left them like that? You do know it’s illegal to keep them without a license?” “Fif-FIFTY? Harvey suddenly felt a bit faint. “There were only 5 yesterday!”

Well, there’s about 50 of them now. We’ll need to find them better housing.”

After searching through the clinic for boxes big enough to house 50 Junimos, Maru makes a decision, that Harvey mutely agrees with.

They let the Junimos loose in the hospital wing of the clinic, leaving them food and water. At the end of the day locking the door behind him, Harvey couldn’t help but feel he’d made a terrible mistake.

‘Junimos reach sexual maturity within 24 hours of birth’, he read in one of his encyclopaedias, ‘as beings who derive their bright coat colouring from magic in the air around them, they live relatively short lives and breed as much as they can to ensure survival of the species. The magic that sustains them, makes them attractive to female junimos also kills them. Their twin purposes in life are to procreate and eat.’

In the morning there were more than 500 Junimos on the hospital wing. Maru could barely open the door and then could not close it. There were junimos everywhere, in the pharmacy cupboards, under every chair in the waiting room. Maru found two in the drawer of the till.

Harvey was going spare. His beautiful clean, sterile clinic had turned into a zoo. He coped as well as he could, but that evening, he called Lewis in a panic. His first attempt to pick up his phone he picked up a Junimo instead, he swept 7 of them off his chair in his office. Several of them piled on his warm lap once he sat down. There were several of them sleeping on the examination table. The noise of Junimo mating was cacophonous.

“Hello!” He bellowed into the phone when Mayor Lewis picked up. “LEWIS! It’s Harvey here! You’re going to have to do something about these Junimos! There’s hundreds of them!” “Sorry Doc! I can’t hear you! Are you having a party? I will come and pick up those Junimos from you on Friday! You said 4 days for the antibiotics to work didn’t you? I’ll see you then!” and with that the line goes dead.

Harvey has had enough. He wades through the Junimos lining the stairs to his apartment, grabs his jacket from the hook behind the door, empties the pockets of Junimos that have settled there, and makes his way gingerly out of the clinic and to the saloon. He stays far later than he should and he dreams in junimos the entire night.

Wednesday is hell. Exponential Junimo growth means that every surface is covered with squeaking, breeding and pooping animals with no regard for Harvey’s cleaning routines. He opens his kitchen cupboard for his coffee mug and is rewarded by e seemingly never-ending shower of small apple like creatures bouncing off his head and scurrying away. He tries to count them but here are far too many. That night he goes hungry because there is not a crumb of food in the house. When he climbs into his bed, he is surrounded by the creatures, cocooned in a kind of living Junimo blanket. The sleeping creatures start snoring. By itself a junimo snoring is a sweet sound, like sighing, but by the thousand, the noise is deafening.

When Maru arrives on Thursday morning, Doctor Harvey is a broken man. She pushes the door of the clinic open with some difficulty, the sheer weight of the creatures holding back the door.

Harvey is seated behind the counter, asleep, head in arms, dishevelled and unshaven. Junimos on his lap, his shoulders, in every one of his pockets. The squeaking and chirruping is so loud that Maru has to cover her ears as she approaches the sleeping man covered in the apple creatures.

“Doc!” She shouts above the row. “Doc!”

Harvey jolts awake. The junimos on his lap fall off, but are replaced with many more, jostling for a place on the doctor’s warm knees.

“I’ve brought someone who might help!”

Through the mounds of apple shaped bodies Harvey can just about make out a large cowboy hat and a purple beard. He scoffed to himself, the crazy guy from the tower? What was he going do here? Set traps? Give them all contraceptives. (Harvey had already considered it, but he calculated that the cost would be more than he made in a year).

With some difficulty the self-proclaimed wizard moved to the wall of the waiting room and in chalk drew a large circle with undecipherable symbols within its parameters. He yelled one word “Quiet!” Which made Harvey and Maru both jump. Surprisingly, the Junimos still and there is peace in the clinic for the first time in days.

He grinned at the medical staff, “Couldn’t hear myself think in here.”

Harvey has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when the wizard gets out a wand. Seriously? He’s muttering something that Harvey can’t quite catch and is sure is gibberish. He almost wants to laugh when the man turns around and makes an extravagant gesture with his arm. Harvey takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, feeling overwhelmingly tired. When he opens his eyes again, the Junimos are gone.

He blinks. Not a single Junimo remains.

The place is a mess however. Chairs are overturned, the plants have all been eaten. Magazines shredded. Harvey dared not look at the damage in his neat pharmacy and sterile hospital room.

“Where did they go?” He stammers, his entire belief system shaken.

The Wizard smiles enigmatically, “Somewhere I think they should be.” With a dramatic swirl of his cape, he exits, leaving Harvey and Maru to clean up the mess. Harvey thinks he can smell sulphur, but blames his overtired fevered brain.

**~~**~~**

In the Mayoral Manor, Lewis is doing his weekly book work for the town finances. A little bit off the top here and a little added to his own bank account. No-one ever asks to check the books. The amounts would not be missed.

There is a flash and suddenly Lewis is surrounded by small apple shaped creatures. They’re everywhere. A heaving mass of Junimos covers the floor and already some of the creatures are getting into his food cupboards, locust-like they start to methodically eat everything they come across.

Over in the clinic, broom in hand, Harvey swears he can hear screaming coming from Lewis’s house.