#the answer is somewhere in that sealed emotion box in his head

[cantuscorvi]

Is Raum in love with somebody atm?

Anon that is strictly classified information.

So top secret in fact, that even he doesn't have access to it.

[miirohs]

sugarcoated

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered. 

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

[whythinktoomuch]

recovered in time

(pt. i)

“From what I can tell, the implant seems to be interrupting the connection between your visual cortex and your emotional center,” Brainy says, eyes narrowed in concentration, two fingers pressed against the incision point at the base of Kara’s neck. “As well as inhibiting your frontal lobe and sending distress signals to the amygdala.” 

“What does that mean?” Kara asks. 

“It means that... you weren’t feeling like yourself,” Alex says, and Kara nods hesitantly at that. 

“So, can you rid of it or not?” Alex asks, fixing Brainy with her most hardened stare. 

“I’ve already determined five different ways to extract the device—”

“Great! So, we can—”

“—but none that wouldn’t immediately prove fatal or result in permanent brain damage.” 

Eventually, Alex releases a long-suffering, shuddery sigh. “... You could have fucking led with that.” 

“I did feel like myself though...” Kara interjects, suspending what was surely about to result in another very unproductive argument. “And I still feel like myself now. It’s just...” She ducks her head, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, already frayed from anxious attention. “... I felt so alone? Like, I’d been abandoned, or was suddenly in a world where I’d lost everyone all at once. Again.” 

Kara shifts uncomfortably in her seat, now able to feel everyone’s eyes on her, burning holes into her skin. She has long since traded in her super-suit for comfy clothes, and her scarf has been upgraded to a pair of heat vision resistant blackout goggles, but it would take more than 24 measly hours for her to adjust to, well... everything. 

“You’re not alone though,” Alex says, giving Kara’s knee a firm squeeze as if in reminder. “You know that, right?” 

Kara rubs at her nose, sniffling herself back into some semblance of composure. “Yeah, I know.” 

But of course, knowing something hardly ever outstrips the feeling of it, and Kara kinda just wishes that she still had Lena’s scarf on her. 

//

“Hey Lena,” Kara calls out softly from the bed. She doesn’t lift her head from her pillow, but still offers a small wave in greeting. 

“What gave me away?” Lena asks, and it’s almost playful, which makes everything that much easier. 

“Well... Pretty much everything, actually.” 

“Ah.”

Then the smell hits her, overwhelming her senses in an unexpected rush of heat and spice. Kara sits up right away, startled. “How did you...” is all she manages to get out, then pushed into her hands is a considerably sized takeout box of potstickers. 

“I wanted to surprise you, so I might have created a hermetically sealed lunchbox just to sneak these in,” Lena says, and Kara’s already laughing softly. “The food’s still good though! I literally just slipped them inside right before walking into the building, so...” 

“... Thank you,” Kara says. She inclines her head to the spot next to her, and feels the bed sink with Lena’s weight accordingly. 

Kara starts eating, but does so with only one hand. The other just fidgets at her thigh, tugging at her sweatpants, lying in wait so impatiently. Then Lena takes the hand and holds it firmly in her own, and finally, it feels like Kara can breathe freely again. 

“I never thanked you,” Kara says, “for, you know... everything.” 

“You already did,” Lena reminds her, squeezing Kara’s hand. 

“I... did?” Kara feels Lena nodding beside her. “Okay... so then, why does it feel like I still have so much left to owe you?” 

Lena tries to hold her breath quietly, but Kara hears it; of course, she hears it. “I can’t answer that for you.” 

A couple of hours later, when Alex pops into the room for her usual check-in, she stumbles upon an unexpected sight: Lena sitting up on the hospital bed, her legs tucked beneath the sheets as she answers emails on her phone, and Kara fast asleep, curled up around her. 

Kara’s still holding Lena’s hand, her face buried in Lena’s shirt where it smells most like her, apparently, besides her hair. 

Lena blushes a little, but can’t find it in her to regret her position. 

//

“Alex says it’s because I didn’t see your face,” is the first thing Kara says the next time Lena visits. “I pretty much saw everyone else’s, but... never yours. So, I’ve imprinted on you, or something.” 

Lena recovers quickly, “Well... what do you think?” 

“I don’t know,” Kara admits, running her fingers down the back of her neck, feeling the tender skin still raised in jagged lines. “There’s still so much I feel like I can’t trust right now.” 

“But you trust me...” 

“Yeah.” 

Lena carefully cradles Kara’s hand in both of hers, and it feels like a thank you of sorts. Then Kara draws their joined hands closer and closer, pressing her lips gently to Lena’s knuckles, and sighs in a way that could only ever be an expression of deep gratitude. 

//

Kara’s days all seem to unfold the same way, with Alex and Brainy running tests, Lena stopping by once per day for company, and Kara just trying to break up the monotony of it all with podcasts, books on tape, and tossing a tiny bouncy ball around the room to test her reflexes. 

For that last one, she has to stop the moment she hears Alex approaching her room, of course, because of all the broken glass and knocked over plants, and such. 

Until one day, she overhears a couple of DEO agents discussing some urgent mission—not exactly a rare occurrence, given her super-hearing, but she perks up, ears honing in at the mention of Lex Luthor. 

But when they also mention how Lena might be in danger, Kara is already out of bed and flying out the window.

Kara hasn’t flown since donning her blackout goggles, but she remembers enough to travel at a height that would be safe from any threat of collision. And before long, she’s hurtling straight for the source of all the distant commotion now pounding in her ears. 

She practically crashes in landing, the earth cracking beneath her bare feet. She whips her head toward where Lena’s heartbeat is fluttering the loudest, then hears low chuckles coming from the same direction. 

“You’re all so pathetic and predictable,” Lex crows. “At least try to make it somewhat of a challenge for me. God, it’s all just too easy.” 

“Kara, get out of here!” Lena’s voice shouts out to her, muffled and desperate. “It’s a trap!” 

But Kara takes a step toward them anyway, and immediately, the entire world seems to scream in protest. 

Kara falls to her knees, hands clapping over her ears but to no avail. The excruciating sound is coming from her own head, akin to hot spikes scraping at the inside of her skull. She calls out to Lena, but can’t even make out her own voice over the pain. 

She crumples over, helpless, her teeth gritted as she pushes her face into the dirt and shakes uncontrollably. She knows she has to get up; she’s a sitting duck like this. She can’t save Lena like this. 

And so, Kara does the one thing that she can do. 

She rips the goggles off her face, hurling them somewhere behind her, and jerks her head up. 

She sees a blur of colors, then a single hand outstretched towards her, clutching onto something silver and vaguely rectangular. 

She fires a burst of heat vision right at that hand, and feels the back of her head explode. 

//

“Man... she couldn’t just put them down gently?” mutters a voice that’s not unfamiliar. “She just had to throw the goggles like a goddamn shot-putter or something? These things cost a fortune!”  

“All right, that’s enough, Demos,” says Alex, a much more familiar voice. “I’ll worry about the budget, okay? You just get everyone else back to headquarters.”  

“’M’sorry,” Kara says, or at least she tries to say. “My bad...” Her eyes still shut tight, she flashes a thumbs up, then lets her arm flop back down to the ground. Alex stops her when she attempts to sit up. 

“Hey, not so fast, you jerk,” Alex says, somehow keeping Kara grounded with a single hand pressed against her shoulder. “We’re getting a stretcher for you.” 

“I don’t think I need a stretcher.” 

“Yeah, well... nobody asked you,” Alex sighs, before grumbling, “God, what’s taking them so long? Ugh, hang on... Hey, can you watch her? I’ll be right back.” 

Lena’s there now, and Kara can actually feel herself grinning without even meaning to. “No, don’t... You shouldn’t have come, Kara.” But there’s a smile in Lena’s voice, and Kara’s grin grows wider for it. “I’m serious!” 

“Okay, me too.” Kara then winces as a sharp pain gradually surfaces, trickling into reality. “The back of my head is killing me...” 

“Yeah, you’re bleeding.” 

Kara scoffs. “I don’t bleed; I’m Supergirl.” 

“Okay, Supergirl... but somebody got blood all over my shirt, and it sure as hell isn’t me, so...” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Then check for yourself.” 

Kara goes rigid, her humor dashed and her brow furrowing heavily.

“... You know I can’t do that.” 

Soft fingertips brush down Kara’s face, tucking her hair behind her ear so tenderly. “Listen,” Lena says. “You destroyed Lex’s transmitter, along with most of his right hand, and I think you blew out the implant in your head in the process as well.” 

There are thoughts then—the kind that Kara is unwilling to say aloud lest they develop reasons to be true. Thoughts like, what if the explosion damaged parts of her brain permanently? What if it severed that neural link between her eyes and everything else for good? And, how can she risk losing the one person who she believes to be absolutely, 100% real? 

Lena draws Kara’s attention with a gentle hand squeeze. “Hey, where’d you go?” she asks softly.

“I’m still here,” Kara says. “Still just right here.” 

But Lena seems to understand Kara’s concerns, unvoiced or not, because she leans a bit closer and asks, “Do you trust me...?” 

And, yes; yes, she does.  

With a deep breath filling out her lungs, Kara slowly opens her eyes. Everything’s a blur at first, just like before. But then little by little, bit by bit, the night sky comes into focus. She stares up at the darkness, counts as many stars as she can to put off the inevitable. 

Then her hand is being tugged and squeezed in the gentlest reminder, so she turns her head, blinking her eyes in preparation before looking up to see Lena Luthor smiling down at her. 

“Hey,” Kara says. 

“Hey yourself,” Lena returns. 

Kara nods thoughtfully, then gestures to Lena’s shirt. “Sorry, but I can’t afford dry cleaning,” she says, squinting at the various splashes of red—light but unfortunately prominent against the very white material—and Lena just laughs and laughs. 

[vibraniumwing]

my stars know about you.

a sam wilson x fem!reader blurb wherein sam finds the old videos the reader has when he was snapped away.

WARNING: a bit of angst and tfatws spoilers for those who haven't watched but aside from that, nothing else.

A/N: ha yes hello i impulsively wrote this bcs my muse was so high all of a sudden and i have this monologue ready for it. listened to this playlist right here and wendy ft. john legend’s written in the stars <3 also, is this still a blurb ??

---

Sam had promised you he would clean around the house while you go on a fun little weekend with Sarah and the boys, wanting to give you more time to relax and be around his family; his lips churning up into a small yet giddy smile at the thought of the small velvet box hiding somewhere in your shared room that contained the necklace you’ve been eyeing whenever the two of you could go out.

He was half-way done with the things hidden in your work drawer when he came across a flash drive that had a label written on it called visual diary. His brows furrowed lightly as walked to his side of the office, opening his laptop and plugged it in, opening the files to see multiple videos titled with dates, the first one from all the way back in 2018.

Sam shifted in his seat, clicking on that certain video only to be greeted by your tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes, under eyes dark from the possible lack of sleep. His heart dropped at the distraught look on your face as you took a deep breath in before looking into the camera.

“hey sam, it’s me. it’s一 it’s been exactly five days since Nat called me about how you were one of the people who, unfortunately, got snapped into non-existence.”

The way you spoke caused goosebumps to form along his skin, realizing that these were probably videos you'd made five years ago, when the snap happened. Sam’s heart was shattered at how lost you looked from the other side of the screen, wanting nothing more than to cradle you in his arms.

“I’m with Sarah right now, she’s sleeping in her room with Aj and Cass. She’s been strong, but you can see the worry in her eyes一 she’s holding up much better than I am though. I’ve been such a mess, I can’t look into the mirror without seeing… feeling you beside me. I miss you.”

Sam stopped the video, his own tears starting to choke him upon seeing the state that you and his younger sister have been. He knew that it was hard, after seeing Sarah struggle with the family business and keeping things together; seeing you wake up at night with cold sweat glistening on your skin as you jolted up from yet another nightmare of him not coming back.

He wanted to stop from diving deep into the videos but his curiosity was stronger. He scrolled through some more videos, randomly clicking on one.

This time, Sam was greeted with a somewhat cheery you, out on the hill you first confessed your attraction to him一 the same night he admitted that he loves you more than a friend, where everything started between the both of you.

“hey there, handsome. i surely hope you can recognize where i’m at right now, if not, then i guess i’m kicking your ass.”

He chuckled, finding your humor amusing despite how lackluster your tone was as you spoke into the camera. Sam reached up to trace your features that were present on his screen, remembering every single feature of yours, engraving it into the forefront of his mind.

“today’s the day we’re supposed to celebrate our first anniversary, sammy. we should’ve been in hawaii by now, swimming with the fishes or explore the beauty of that island. instead, i’m here, in my car alone on the hill where we first admitted our feelings for each other.”

Sam didn’t fail to notice how you were trying your best to hold back your tears, taking note of how your tongue poked the inside of your cheek一 a habit he noticed you would do whenever fighting strong emotions一 and he whispered a small, “Don’t hold your tears back, sweetheart.” and as if you heard him, you let out a small chuckle.

“if you were here right now, i know you would say something like, “don’t bottle those tears up, beautiful” or something along those lines. i want you to know that i’m trying, sam. but it’s hard, it’s been five long months since you’ve been gone and i don’t know how long i can last without hearing you say you love me or your obnoxious laughter that would resonate through the house.”

“I love you, baby.” was all that left Sam’s lips, tongue jutting out to dampen his lips as he listened to you speak, mind blank as too many thoughts about what he wants to say to you as of the moment are too much.

“i’ve told the stars about your laughter. it’s niche and cliche, i know, but mom told me to tell them all about the people i treasure the most whenever i can’t tell others about them.”

“i told them about how beautiful you are一 about how scintillating your eyes are that they could battle even the brightest star in the sky tonight. i let my stars know about how amazing of a chef you are even though you almost burnt my old apartment’s kitchen down because you forgot about the cake you tried so hard to bake.”

Sam cringed at the memory, nose scrunching up in disbelief that he could forget such a simple task; he spent the night apologizing and all you ever did was smile and lean in to give him a kiss in hopes to shut him up.

“i told my stars about how brilliant you are一 how your words are so deep even with the shortest sentences, about how you can easily captivate me and a bunch of others with the stories that you speak… about how much love you have for me and for everyone you care for. it never ceases to amaze me how you can stand up and fight for the people that you love.”

At this point, Sam was already in tears as you shared about how you spoke about him. He adored how your eyes were filled with that well-known fondness you have whenever you speak about something you love.

As the video ended, Sam was left to look at the reflection of himself on the screen, staring at his reflection as your words echoed in his mind. He always listened to you ramble on about how everyone’s destiny was written somewhere in the skies, their lives aligned like the constellations that shined bright in the nighttime.

Normally, he would brush it off, skeptic to that belief but as he tuned into your stories, he can’t help but believe that in what you were saying. Sam was about to play another video when he heard the familiar jangle of your keys in the front door.

Sam pulled out of his chair and raced over there to meet you, immediately engulfing you in a tight hug before you could even close the door. “Hello, beautiful.” he softly greeted, pulling away to place a light kiss on your temple. “How was your weekend away with Sarah and the boys?”

You chuckled softly at the sudden affection he was giving, dropping your duffel bag on the floor to wrap your arms around his torso, feeling how relaxed he was against you. “It was great! Could’ve been better if you were there to be with us.” you answered, reaching up to peck his lips a few times, making the latter smile. “What’s with the affection? Did you break something, Samuel? Wait一 were you crying?”

He shook his head, adamant in admitting that he was, he lifted you up easily as he took you over to your shared office, sitting back down on his office chair with you in his lap as he showed you the compilation of the videos, “I… I found the flash drive while cleaning and I got a little too curious and decided to see what was on it and well, turns out I got a bit more than what I expected.”

“I was going to show them to you one day, Sam.” you admitted, making yourself comfortable as you snuggled up to him, his arms laced around you securely. “But I wanted to make it a bit more… special since this was a very vulnerable time for me.” the softness in your voice made him curl a single digit under your chin to make you look at him.

“I’m sorry that I left you alone for that long, baby girl.” Sam apologized, feeling incredibly guilty for leaving. Despite knowing it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t bring himself to accept that you and his sister had to spend so many years without him. “I know you’ve told me multiple times that I shouldn’t say sorry, but I can’t help it. You’ve waited for so long.”

“And I’ll wait a million more if it meant I could be with you.” you cut him off, shifting slightly to make you face him completely. “You can go anywhere, anytime, for how long and I would wait for you to come back every single time. So please don’t feel guilty about it, love.” your hands holding the sides of his face as you start to pepper it with gentle kisses.

You smile at his peaceful expression, “My heart is in peace knowing that we’re written somewhere in the stars.” you say to him softly, squishing his cheeks in a playful manner, light laughter filling up the room.

Sam smiled, sealing the feather-like kisses with his lips on yours, capturing it for an intimate one that conveyed how much love he has for you, resting his forehead on yours right after. “You know that I love you, right Y/N?”

“I do and I love you so much more, Sam.”

---

TAGLIST: @https-bvcky @harrysweasleys @selenasprompts @weasleytwins-41 @anchoeritic @marvel-diaries @demirunner @barneswidow @lovecroftreads @punkrific @6r4cie @yougottalovefandoms @swiftssss

to those whose urls are in bold, i can't tag you for some reason. join my taglist! it's in my main main masterlist <3

[leda-x]

Hello! I just finished A Snapping Sound and absolutely loved it, it was so so good! I just had a quick question about how Danny ultimately passed since I'm a bit confused-

Did he get caught somehow during the second escape and then after some time Vlad did the same to him as the others? Or was it accidental death in his escape? I thought his escape plan was quite clever, I'm wondering how he got found and how he died exactly 😭

Thank you!

Hey I wrote this whole thing out... somewhere... lemme find it...

Danny hadn’t seen the sky in aeons. Time was no longer marked by sunrise and sunset. Days were marked by when his tormentor entered the basement and when he left. Danny obsessively picked the routine apart, unraveling it, replaying it over and over for a way to exploit it. He had nothing else to do except log the details of his captivity.

When he’s about to leave he stomps three times to knock the dirt from his shoes.

He takes the steps two at a time when he descends, one at a time when he ascends.

After he leaves, I have approximately seven hours until he comes back. Seven hours to escape, give or take thirty minutes of error, seeing as I counted the seconds, during five different ‘nights’, then averaged them.

Of course, his captor caught onto that pretty quickly. After Danny’s first botched escape attempt the man was careful to randomize his routine in such a way that Danny was left in a constant state of disorientation. He was kept cuffed for what felt like days on end, then, without any reasoning, he was uncuffed. He no longer could tell when one ‘day’ bled into another, as his captor spent different segments of time in the basement, ranging everywhere from four hours, down to ten minutes. He also began to sedate Danny at odd intervals, for no apparent reason other than to create blurry gaps in his memory and keep him from planning. Danny had quieted and his tormentor had taken his complacency as defeat instead of what it really was: endurance. Somewhere along the way, Danny had learned that, in order to survive long enough to escape, he had to be a smart captive. A smart captive meant sacrificing any semblance of pride, playing nice, and waiting. It meant begging when asked to beg, agreeing to anything and everything, and otherwise pretending you didn’t exist, because only bad things happened when you were noticed.

At this point, keeping track of time became pointless. So did the idea of planning an elaborate escape attempt. If he couldn’t predict what his tormentor would do, with any small amount of certainty, he had no constants to plan around. And while he knew he could pick the lock to his room, he also knew that he stood no chance of getting out of the basement anymore. At least, not on his own. The man had sealed that exit thoroughly.

So, Danny waited patiently and remained vigilant for a random stroke of luck. 

And then, miraculously, one day an opportunity presented itself in the form of a dead body.

In the dark, Danny squinted and was able to make out a four-sided wooden coffin. The lid was ajar, a dark hand waving out.

Danny pried the lid off and stared down, stunned. Even though he knew before he even opened the lid, it wasn’t any less unnerving to see the dead eyes staring up at him.

Danny swallowed thickly. He reached underneath the corpse’s armpits, hoisting it up. The thing’s head lolled, nuzzling his, giving Danny an intense whiff of rot and an expanse of clammy flesh. Danny turned his head away and gagged. He tried not to think about how this could be him if this prison break didn’t work.

It took forever to drag the body across the basement into his room. It took another forever to wrestle it into his clothing. The body’s arms were rubbery, heavy, and swollen.

Danny panted, dizzy. In his emaciated state this whole endeavor was like a marathon. Adrenaline beat his ears like a war drum and leant him strength he did not possess. With a grunt, he rolled the dead thing onto his bed and covered it with his thin blanket.

He had no idea how long this doppelganger would fool his jailor. If the man entered his room today he would notice, but the man rarely came into his room.

Danny breathed shallowly. He felt more awake now than he had felt in long time. More alive. Clear-headed. Focused. Hope dared to balloon in his chest. This could work.

He tugged on the clone’s clothes. It had been wearing nothing but a white shirt and a pair of overly baggy pants. After yanking the shirt on, Danny searched through the basement and found a surgical knife. He tucked it into the waistline, the cool metal pressing against the small of his back. He found several large bottles of whatever his captor used before he performed surgeries on his other victims— some kind of weird orange-yellow-brown liquid— and he smeared it across his every inch of exposed skin.

Then, with one last glance at the near pitch-black basement, Danny lowered himself into the coffin and readjusted the lid so it was half covering him. He tried to remember how the corpse had been lying. Any missed detail, and he’d fail. His captor wasn’t stupid.

Danny raised his right hand and draped it over the edge of the casket, limp.

He stayed that way for an indefinite amount of time. Hours. Days. He couldn’t tell. His shoulders, the back of his head, his heels, and his tailbone pounded at the hard surface of the box. He lost feeling completely in his upraised arm. His eyes stared blankly ahead, scanning, knowing that three inches from his nose was a wooden lid, although the box was so dark he couldn’t make it out.

His eyes drooped and his adrenaline faded away, yet his body never relaxed. As much as his body screamed for it, he couldn’t allow sleep. Not tonight.

A mechanical door whirred and someone descended into the lab. Heavy, slow, plodding footsteps— Skulker’s.

Danny’s breath caught.

Skulker wasted no time. He lumbered over to the casket where Danny willed himself to steady. The fact that his hand hand gone numb was a blessing. It meant it had no chance of trembling and giving him away.

Danny didn’t dare flinch or breathe. He kept his mouth agape and prayed Skulker wouldn’t look too hard. Skulker wasn’t much for noticing details. Desperate to not think about what was going on right now, Danny tried to remember his mother’s voice, her scent, the feeling of his head tucked underneath her chin as she held him close and safe. Any residual tension flooded out of his limbs.

Skulker grabbed his right hand and flung it back into the box. Danny’s leadened arm flopped lifelessly and hit the wall of the casket with a dull thud that he didn’t feel. Above him, the lid of the coffin was put back in place.

A grating noise, then a series of booms. Danny couldn’t help but flinch as the coffin jolted painfully against his sore body. The back of his skull complained. His eyeballs rattled in their sockets.

Then, he was being moved. How? He wasn’t sure.

Danny dared to open his eyes— seeing nothing but pitch black. Danny couldn’t twist or sit upright. He could barely move his head two inches up before hitting it on the lid. His eyes flitted around the slats to try and see through, but it was impossible.

A slow triumphant smirk spread across his lips. He was maybe the only person ever that was looking forward to being buried alive.

Skulker grunted as he heaved the box somewhere... outside. Freezing cold air whistled through the cracks, easily biting through Danny’s shirt. He fought a shiver and wondered what month it was. The last time he had attempted escape, it had been spring. Surely it hadn’t been more than a few months since then?

Skulker let out a gruff noise and Danny felt weightlessness as the box got tossed. With a jolt of fear, his fingers tried to clamp down to something, but there was nothing to hold onto. The casket hit hard and tumbled. Danny’s head smacked into the side of the box. He blinked blood rapidly out of his left eye. Absently, Danny prayed that Skulker didn’t look back in the box again. The blood would be a dead giveaway. Also, in this light, Danny doubted Skulker would mistake him again.

There was a yip and a rustle. The sound of tinkling chains. Danny only had his imagination to sort out what was going on.

Skulker let out a whistle and at least three dogs answered with howls, before the box jolted and Danny was gliding. He turned his head to the side and ran the back of his hand along the wood grain. Three inches of cedar plank separated him from the sun. Tears welled in his eyes, unbidden. It had felt like ages since he had last seen the sky. And here he was, so close, yet still unable to see it.

Danny forced back the tears. This wasn’t the time to get overly emotional or cocky. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. He pricked his ears, trying to dissect each noise in case it would prove important later, should this escape work. He could hear a constant shhhhhhh of whatever contraption he was on. A chain jingled, taut. There were several dogs. He could hear them panting and snuffling nearby. Far ahead he could hear Skulker plodding along. Branches snapped and leaves rustled. Images of the forest behind the mansion came to mind.

If they were in that forest, they had cut over to a deeper, denser, part. Their progress was slower and Skulker cursed more and more underneath his breath. Danny could hear that the man was fatigued. His footsteps grew slower and heavier.

They came to a halt. The dogs scampered away. Danny heard a door close and the sound of a fire crackling.

Danny closed his eyes again and went limp. He was patient. He could wait. But, Skulker never came back and neither did the dogs. Danny got the feeling that he had been forgotten. He didn’t know how long that would last. His feet and palms began to sweat, itch. This could be the last chance he had before Skulker buried the coffin.

Danny shifted, wiggling until he could get his arms free from where they were pinned up against the sides of the box. He used his knees and his palms to push against the lid.

It wouldn’t budge.

Danny’s heart hammered in his throat. He used the top of his head. He strained and let out a soft noise of frustration. Did Skulker already nail the lid on? Danny hadn’t planned on that. His mind raced, trying to come up with another way out, should that be the case. He had a knife, maybe he could… He shook his head, refocused, and tried again.

This time the lid popped and cracked open.

Danny froze and held his breath, listening intently for any sign that Skulker had heard that. When nothing happened, he pushed the lid all the way off and sat up. 

Fresh air ruffled his hair, and filled his lungs, making him dizzy and euphoric. Sunlight warmed his cheeks. Snowflakes fell against his nose and nestled atop his head. Danny heaved a few breaths and looked upwards. Giddiness nearly overcame him as he took in the sky.

Blue. Sun. Fluffy clouds lazily rolling along a dazzling crystalline sky. Peace.

Danny stared around at all the snow, bewildered. Panic simmered. He had missed out on a way larger chunk of time than he originally thought. He had been taken in August. His first escape attempt had been in spring. There was at least two feet of snow blanketing the ground, which meant it was December, if not February. That meant… over a year.

Over a year of lost time.

Danny pushed that thought aside and peered down to find the casket which was resting atop a sled— a sled which sat next to a log cabin. Danny looked directly into a window. Inside, a healthy fireplace, several animal heads mounted to the wall, and Skulker crouched above the fire. He had his back to the window, poking a bit at the embers. The hunter straightened and turned.

Danny let his spine go limp and fell backwards into the casket. His eyes darted about at the sky wildly in fear. He realized it didn’t matter if Skulker saw him or not— he had to get out of this coffin.

Keeping his head ducked, Danny crawled out and fell to the ground. Cold seeped through his shirt and pants, soaking them. Blood stained the snow underneath his head. Danny’s fingers curled desperately into the snow, feeling it crunch against his palm.

He backed away from the sled, sliding along his butt, until his back hit the cabin wall. He edged away from the front door. Keeping his gaze fixated on the window, Danny used his hands to feel his way behind him. His palm hit something warm and wet and he flinched.

An English Setter stared at him, butting its head into Danny’s palm. It’s fur was mangy and a speckled brown. It was large and brutish, with thick corded muscle.

Danny froze.

The dog tilted its head and growled.

“Shh,” Danny breathed. He caught sight of a leather collar with a name tag. “Shh, Cujo.”

Its head the other direction, ears perked in recognition.

“That’s your name, right?” Danny soothed, whispering. “Listen, Cujo. Let’s keep this our little secret, ok?” He got onto his feet, slowly. His height frightened the dog, who skittered back a few paces and yipped, loud.

The cabin door flew open.

Danny ran.

His bare feet ached as he tore his way through the snow. With each stride his leg disappeared several inches. The snow was icy and sharp. Danny didn’t care. His gaze was laser-focused on a thick clump of trees. He had no idea where he was, but he figured that he could find some hiding spots in the thicker parts of the forest.

From behind him, as if through a tunnel, Danny heard a yell. He phased it all out of his mind and kept running. All that mattered was running as fast as he could into that treeline. Even when he reached it, he knew he wasn’t safe, he kept running. Skulker was coming up behind him. Danny could hear the man’s panting.

Danny darted through the branches, hopping over a log. He trained all his focus on not tripping.

Skulker stampeded right behind him. Almost on top of him now.

Adrenaline pounded through his head. He urged his legs to run faster, but they had done nothing for over a year. His muscles quivered with disuse. Out of desperation, he yanked at a branch so it would fling backwards. Behind him, Skulker gave a pained grunt then tackled him from behind with the brute force of an avalanche.

The breath got knocked from his lungs. His face pressed into the snow. It filled his mouth and his nose. He choked. Panic stabbed at him. His hands scrambled for purchase and found a branch. Getting a good grip on it, he whipped it behind him.

Skulker grabbed that arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to let go of the bludgeon. Danny’s arm screamed in protest.

“Stop struggling,” Skulker grunted. He pressed his knee into the back of Danny’s head, forcing his face a few more inches into the snow until it completely covered his ears. 

Danny screamed, but it was muffled. He twisted and kicked backwards as hard as he could. His bare heel collided with a crunch. Dimly, Danny was aware of pain in his foot.

Skulker howled and tumbled off of him.

Danny crawled a few paces away before getting back on his feet. He swayed.

Skulker got ahold of his neck and slammed him against a tree.

“Hnnr—” Danny choked. Snow rattled off the branches overhead, dumping onto the pair of them. It clung to his hair and eyelashes. He blinked furiously up at Skulker’s leering face.

Skulker’s eyes narrowed. He lifted Danny higher until his bare feet kicked nothing but air and the back of the tree.

Danny gritted his teeth and lashed out, hitting Skulker’s arms, his hands clawing, ripping. His struggles weakened as his vision darkened. Skulker’s tough leather hunting gloves were impossible to scratch through and he was wearing far too many layers. He merely shook Danny by the neck like shaking a rubber chicken.

Danny’s head flopped as the fight got sucked out of him. For a minute he forgot. He allowed himself to give up. “Do it,” he mouthed, lips trembling.

Skulker paused. “What?”

"Do it,” Danny mouthed again.

Skulker’s faced dawned in understanding. He nodded. His grip tightened until Danny felt like his neck would snap in half.

Danny’s eyelashes fluttered. The brilliant blue sky faded into black. His hands fell to his sides, still. He felt an overwhelming calm swoop down over him. It swaddled him in a blanket of peace. Then, something dug into the small of his back. A wiggling thread loosened, a voice screamed that he couldn’t just fall noiselessly into the dark. If he died, Skulker would put him in that box and bury him somewhere no one would ever find him, just like he had done with all the others.

Danny couldn’t swallow that. Couldn’t stomach it. He wouldn’t allow them to get away with it.

Still limp at his sides, his hands suddenly twitched. As if in a dream, he reached behind his back and found the handle of a knife. His fingers could barely grasp it, but he dredged up enough voracity to whip the knife out and bury it deep into Skulker’s shoulder. The knife shifted through muscle and bit into bone.

Skulker dropped him and stumbled backwards with a surprised howl. He no longer looked like he wanted to entertain the idea of putting Danny out of his misery peacefully.

Danny collapsed at the base of the tree, clawing at his throat, gasping for air. Still, Danny refused for this to be the end. He had waited, planned, and been patient. This was the closest he had been to freedom. He couldn’t die and he couldn’t go back. He would not go back into that basement. He was so fucking close, he would fucking murder Skulker if he had to.

Desperation flooded him beyond reason. Danny dug around at the base of the tree, through the snow, for anything he could use. He found a rock.

Skulker grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him backwards, roughly. His back lit with fire. Danny screamed and twisted, smashing the rock as hard as he could into Skulker’s head. The man toppled. Danny struck him again, twice, three times, as hard as he possibly could. Suddenly— silence.

Danny panted. His chest heaved. He dropped the bloodied rock into the snow and stared. With his toe, he poked Skulker’s shoulder. Little crimson bubbles fizzed in the corner of Skulker’s mouth— proof he was still breathing.

Danny tried to stand up and fell. His back screamed. He reached behind and found the handle of the knife protruding from his somewhere to the left of his mid-spine. Without thinking, he ripped it out, shoving his face into the snow to stifle his shout. Pain became nausea. He stared at the knife accusingly, before tucking it back into his waistline.

He tried to stand again. His legs wobbled and his back seized, paralyzing him. The world spun on it’s axis and Danny found himself sprawled on the snow again, puffing little agonized breathes of air.

Walking was out of the question, then.

Danny dragged himself away from Skulker’s unconscious body, away from the cabin. He used the snow as a cushion and pulled his body along. The pace didn’t matter. Any progress was ok.

After what felt like a half hour, Danny peered back and saw the red trail he was leaving behind. He laughed, giddy from blood loss. His feet and hands were completely numb. His teeth chattered and his entire body shivered. Even if he got away from the mansion, it wouldn’t be long before he died from hypothermia or blood loss, or both. His laughing grew hysteric. Over a year in captivity, only to die from snow.

He took a second to lean against a tree and dry heave. Nothing came up. His laughs turned into sobs. He laughed and cried and bled all over the tree until he regained enough steel to find his feet again. Now that he couldn’t really feel most of his body, it was somehow easier.

He wrapped his arms around its trunk to keep upright and pressed his face into its bark. He bit into it. The earthy taste of dirt was beautiful. He inhaled as deeply as he could. Then, he closed his eyes, centered himself, and listened.

Birds chirped merrily overhead.

Trees rustled.

Then, a horn honked.

Danny’s head swiveled towards the noise. With borrowed strength, Danny first walked towards that sound, then ran with an unsteady, limping gait.

A deep bark from a dog echoed from behind him. No doubt one of Skulker’s, which meant it was a purebred hunting dog. Loyal. It had probably seen it’s master and was not happy.

Danny urged his body to go faster, to be stronger— just for a little while.

That bark grew louder. It turned into a prolonged chilling howl.

Danny broke into a huge clearing the size of a football field. He stumbled to a halt, afraid of being exposed while crossing it. He could hear distant highway noise coming from the other side.

The dog barked again, closer.

No choice. Danny bolted across the clearing. The snow was deeper and harder to traverse. Danny ignored his body yelling at him that his organs were in trouble. He tugged at his limbs like they were fighting him and practically threw one foot in front of the other.

Another howl. Too close. It was too close.

Danny looked back and saw Cujo bounding towards him from across the clearing.

Frantically, he fumbled for his knife. His fingers were blue and unresponsive. The knife fell into snow. Danny was forced to take his eyes off the incoming hunting dog to look down. He scrambled, finally getting it in hand, just in time for Cujo to be upon him.

He got the animal directly in the chest, his arm somehow narrowly missing the creature’s fangs.

The dog yipped and retreated, bounding several feet away to evaluate its wound. It whined and licked at its side. Huge brown eyes turned to Danny reproachfully.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispered. “I had to.”

The dog growled. Its ears flattened and it crouched, preparing to pounce again.

Danny stumbled back heavily. He clutched the knife close, readying himself. From underneath his feet the earth groaned.

The dog galloped away from Danny towards the treeline, back where it had come from. It’s gait grew unsteady. As it neared the edge of the clearing it lumbered around in circles, before collapsing, dead.

Danny took a step towards the road.

A series of cracking and grinding noises reverberated outwards from underneath his feet. His eyes widened, gaze diving for his feet.

Not a clearing, he thought, right before the ground disappeared and he was submerged in freezing black water.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  7.2

Author’s Note:  This is the longest chapter so far!! *ehe*  Can’t wait for all the comments on this one....

Xiao eyed the three Fatui agents that were in charge of escorting the two of you to Dottore's arena the next day.  You found it rather odd that Childe and Dottore didn't accompany them this time, but didn't question it until they sought to bring only you with them.

Is this a chance for Xiao to escape?  Your gaze flit to the yaksha behind you as the agents bound your wrists with metal cuffs.  Xiao seemed as confused as you were.  "Where are we going?" You asked in hopes that they'll take you far enough away to avoid Xiao's powers.  They didn't answer you and pushed you out of the hallway.

They stopped just short of the throne room, taking a right instead of heading for those giant unwelcoming doors.  When they opened the next door, you halted.  It seemed like it was meant for some sort of conference room, but lighting was a bit over-the-top with candle lights and such.  A delicious aroma rose steadily into the air from the exquisite food that sat on the table.

"You're an idiot if you think this will woo me," you snorted as the agents removed your cuffs and left the room.  "Let's skip the crap, Tartaglia, and tell me what the hell you think you're doing."

"Why so skeptical, ojou-chan?  I just thought you'd like something to eat."  Childe held a smug smirk that complimented the devious glint in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah no.  I'll be going back to my cell now."  You spun on your heel and grabbed the doorknob.

"If you insist, I could fetch Dottore and resume your testing for the day."  When your hand froze on the knob, his smile widened.  "That's what I thought.  Sit."

You sat as far away from him as physically possible, and it drew a light chuckle from his lips.  "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to check in with you."  Childe grabbed a fork with ease and began to dig into the meal.  "This kind of treatment could continue day after day if you chose to cooperate."

"Are you trying to butter me up with food?  Do you seriously not know me well enough to know this trick won't work on me?"

"I seem to recall that it worked if it was chocolate," a boyish glint sparkled in his eyes.

Your fist slammed on the table and your eyes began to glow from the agitation.  "If you're trying to pull that 'shark week' stunt again, I swear I will--"

"--'Impale me?'  Were those the words you were looking for?"

"Okay, if there is no point to this conversation other than to infuriate me, I'm leaving."

"Have you thought of what I said, ojou-chan?"  When you raised an unamused brow, he continued.  "You can make a life for yourself here.  I'm sure with your...unique abilities, you'd be able to climb the ranks and might even rise to harbinger status."

"I have no interest in becoming a harbinger."

"The point being, you could choose whatever path you want if you joined us."

"The last time I checked, the Childe I knew enjoyed watching me suffer.  Why is he going out of his way to recruit me?"

"I think it'd be much easier on all of us if you joined our ranks.  Besides, at least with us, you could find something greater in life than..."

"Than chasing the love of a yaksha? Is that what you were going to say?"  Your glare was as cold as ice.  "I have no interest in this conversation."

"Listen to you; you're beginning to sound just like him," he retorted.  "Hold off on your retorts for a moment, ojou-chan." He placed his utensils down.  "Tell me, what would your plans be if you escaped with him?"

"Like I would tell you," you sneered.

"You've just proved my point.  I can see right through you; you don't have any."  Childe leaned forward and set his chin on his hand.  He held a smile that was somewhere between teasing and cruel.  You weren't intimidated and continued to hold his gaze.  "Ojou-chan, I'll be honest.  You'll die one way or another if you managed to escape, whether that be at the hands of the Fatui, or at the doing of the yaksha.  As a matter of fact, we wouldn't be the ones to kill you; you're the one killing yourself.  Death by a broken heart sounds more agonizing than what awaits you with us."

"You're not getting in my head."

"I'm not?  Then why, ojou-chan, does internal conflict arise on your face when you look at him?"

"Maybe because I'm having a conversation with him in my head."  

"You know what I think?  I think deep down, you know I'm right.  Part of you hates me for it, but the rest of you agrees with me.  With us, you could have anything you want if you can take it.  Be it fame, fear, glory, power, money.  Even love could grow within the ranks if you so desired it."

"Is this some sort of weird courting ritual?"  You bit back, but despite the hostility you portrayed to Childe, you were beginning to falter.  "I don't care for any of that stuff."

"But what you want most is love, no?  The yaksha can't give it to you; he's incapable of it.  You can't deny that much."  Childe refrained from grinning ear-to-ear as he watched the internal turmoil reach your expression.  You had hidden your hands under the table, haven't blinked in the past two minutes, and kept shifting in your seat.  Oh, how he's gotten under your skin.  He loved watching you squirm.  "Don't misunderstand me, ojou-chan. I'm not trying to insinuate love between us; that ship has sailed.  I'm simply looking out for your wellbeing."

You gripped the butter knife that was sitting next to your plate, flipping it over as you thought of the possibility of being able to one-shot him from here.  His lips curled upward slightly as if he knew what you were thinking.  Then, you placed the utensil back down and let out a long irritated sigh.  "Your words are falling on deaf ears, Tartaglia.  I'm going back to my cell now."

On the contrary, I think you've heard me loud and clear, ojou-chan.

............................................

The second you were shoved back into your cell, the tears began to fall.  Xiao watched you for a moment before gesturing for you to sit next to him, but you ignored him and sat in the far corner of the room.  You had glanced up at him once, noticing the tears that were also falling from his cheeks and thinking he was actually crying.  When you remembered it was just a side effect and that the tears manifested involuntarily, you reburied your face in your knees.

"Are you okay?"  Xiao sat so he was facing you, but didn't come any closer to the walls.  He hastily wiped your tears away from his face.  What a nuisance.  Can't emotions manifest themselves in a more convenient way?

"Just peachy," you sniffled without raising your head.  

As if I could ever join the Fatui! He's diluted for thinking something so stupid, for thinking I'm anything like him!  You wanted to scream and punch the wall from how frustrated you were.  How dare he try and twist me around like that!  The tears continued to spill and soak into your jeans as helplessness and hatred washed over you like the tide.  Xiao, why...?

The yaksha perked up when he heard you.  "What?"  

Why can't I be free of human emotions, just as you are?  Why must I be burdened with them?

...................................................

Two more days passed, but the two of you were never taken to the arena.  Apparently the Tsaritsa had other temporary plans that required the presence of the harbingers for the time being.  So, when the time finally came for you and Xiao to be escorted out of the cell once again, you were surprised to see what looked like rookie guards instead of the usual seasoned agents.

Their rookie-ness was primarily given away by the fumbling of the keys before the cell door unlocked.  Then it was painfully obvious that these three guards were idiots by the way they swung the door open enough that it effectively gave Xiao an opening out of the sealed box.  The two of you exchanged shocked glances before Xiao bolted through the door, his lance manifesting in time to pierce through the first guard and pin him to the opposing wall outside the hallway.  

It was an outright slaughter.

Before you even had the chance to get to your feet, the yaksha was already retracting his polearm from the third guard's torso that lay on the floor.  The heavy metallic stench of blood made your stomach riot and you averted your eyes to keep the nausea under control.

"A-Are we really doing this?  Are we really making our escape?"  Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline as well as an emotion you recognized to be fear.

Zhongli...was it really a coincidence that I heard you last night, and now the guard schedules are mixed up?  Xiao furrowed his brows as his eyes danced over the bloody corpses.  "Let's move."

"Okay..."  You carefully avoided slipping on the soaked floor and followed Xiao.  He was surprisingly familiar with the hallways considering he had been blindfolded whenever he was outside the cell.  "How do you know this place so well?"

"Sight is not the only thing we are gifted," he answered as he peeked down a corridor.  "This way."

Several Fatui agents and skirmishers turned the corner as if they had been intentionally sent.  There was no way they could have heard the ruckus from up here.  Xiao waved a hand over his face, and his mask manifested with ease.  A demonic aura emanated around him, visibly blackening the immediate area around his body.  The new sight sent a chill down your spine.  "Stay out of my way."

You followed his order and ran back the way you came, using the corner as cover.  He first burst into the cryo skirmisher, who was practically first in line for a quick death.  The polearm sliced across his torso, then Xiao shoved it through his heart.  The second the blade was ripped out of flesh, geo and pyro skirmishers surrounded him.

"LAMENT!"  Xiao leapt into the air and dove into the ground with his spear.  The shockwave of his anemo burst sent spears of air ricocheting into the skirmishers.  They struggled to their feet after the devastating blow, and more Fatui agents filtered into the hallway.  Xiao performed another series of plunging attacks until no one but him was moving.  He jerked his head to the side and his mask evaporated.  "Come."

You didn't have time to drool over how hot that was--"Ah, wait, Xiao.  That's the throne room up ahead--"

If my intuition is correct...The yaksha burst through the doors despite your warning.

"Xiao--! H-huh?"  You ran after him only to run into his back.  You peeked over his shoulder to see why he stopped in his tracks.  "What's going on?"

No one was in the throne room save for the most important players of this story.  The Tsaritsa, who was standing in front of her throne; Childe, her beloved war hammer; Signora and Scaramouche, who stood off to the side as mere observers; Zhongli, with his arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury; and Aether, who held a firm look of determination.  The atmosphere was tense, even as they all turned their heads to the sound of the doors crashing open.

"I've massacred every last one of your agents," Xiao seethed at the cryo archon as the two of you approached the group.  "Our suffering is no longer."

"Xiao," Zhongli nodded, relief washing over him when he confirmed the two of you were okay.

"Thank the archons," Aether ran over and hugged you.  "I'm sorry we took so long."  He hid his surprise at how thin you were.

"You were saying, Morax?"  The Tsaritsa refocused everyone's attention, and you and Xiao stood at Zhongli's side.  The room seemed to inhabit a colder atmosphere than the first time you visited.  She could've cared less that you and Xiao killed her men.

"You've broken our contract," the archon clenched his jaw, but remained as composed as ever.  "Thou shall not interfere with Liyue or the adepti."

The Tsaritsa's gaze flicked to the two of you.  "Oh, is that so?  I told you I'd do anything necessary to accomplish my goal."

"Those who break the contract will suffer the wrath of the rock.  We have every nation on our side; the people of Teyvat are more than willing to wage war against you for your trespasses if you refuse to return the two of them."

"You think that's going to intimidate me?" The Tsaritsa let out a frigid chuckle at the thought.  "Oh, Morax.  You really are more brawn than brains.  Alright, I will return the yaksha to you."  She nudged her head at Xiao.

"And her."  Zhongli pointed to you.

"Ha!"  Another full laugh arose from the archon's lips.  "Have you already forgotten the terms of your own contract?  Liyue and adepti alone are to be untouched.  She is neither."

"You can't do that!"  Aether shouted, grabbing the hilt of his sword.

"Then I'm afraid we'll have to wage war because of your refusal."  Zhongli hardened his gaze as he continued to stare at the Tsaritsa.  You peered up at him only to realize that he was completely serious.

He wants to wage a world war for my sake?  You sent a nervous glance to Xiao, and he didn't appear to have a problem with his superior's proposition.  Neither did Aether.  Your wavering eyes came to a rest on an amused Childe, who stood across from you.  But...this bloodshed...would be my fault...

"Relax, Morax.  Her test trials are already over; we have what we need."  Your eyes lifted to the Tsaritsa.  "She won't be put through such harsh treatment again."

"Then why do you want to keep her?  Just let her go!"  Aether continued to glare daggers.  To watch his friend be taken away by a god just as Lumine had...he never wanted to feel the same pain again.  The walls appeared to close in on him as he watched the same events repeat before his very eyes.

"She'll be an excellent addition to our ranks.  I seek to recruit her; she will aid us in commencing trials for the hosts of the adeptal enhancements."  Xiao shifted so that you were mostly hidden behind him.  "She will be treated with great care as long as she cooperates."

"She will be part of no such thing," Xiao and Zhongli jinxed one another.

You couldn't pull your gaze away from Childe; it was like the two of you came to some sort of weird understanding of one another in this moment.  You were right, your eyes widened at him.  This bloodshed for my sake...I can't let them go through with this.

"You can't fight without your gnosis, Morax.  Your threats do not concern me."

I told you, ojou-chan.  Out there, you cannot live, the harbinger seemed to say with his eyes.

We'll be on the run if we took off right now.  We'll be hiding every day for the rest of our lives.  If the war actually happens instead of an escape, all these people will die for one measly girl.  Their blood will be on my hands, on Xiao's hands--And then there's the matter of my unrequited feelings...I can't deal with any of this--The world seemed to spin around you, and you grimaced at the feeling.

"So be it," Zhongli materialized his polearm.  Aether drew his sword.

Xiao tensed when he felt your despair and dread flow through him.  He glanced over his shoulder to gage your wellbeing and was still just as confused as he tried to pinpoint your thoughts.  

I can't...You gaze rose to meet your protector.  For both our sakes...

Childe's grin widened when you stepped forward.  "Stop this!"  Your high-pitched cry interrupted the rising arguments between Aether, Zhongli, and the Tsaritsa.  "All of you, stop!"  When all eyes turned to you, you took a deep breath to stop the tears from forming.  "I'll do it."

"WHAT?!"

"If she's willing to stay, your war is pointless," a thin smile spread across the cryo archon's lips.  Then she addressed you directly.  "A wise choice, young lady.  You will be treated well now that you are choosing to participate."

You spun around when Xiao gripped your upper arm.  "What do you think you're doing?"  His voice was hushed, but there was something fierce both in his gaze and his grip on you.  "There's no need to--"

Your arm left his grip, and you addressed Zhongli and Aether.  "I can't let you guys wage war on my behalf whether it's a bluff or not.  Whatever the outcome would be, it would end in thousands of pointless deaths.  I can't let you guys do this."

"But they'll kill you!"  Aether shook your shoulders, desperate to prevent another incident like his sister's.  "Don't you understand what's happening?!  You'll--"

"I'll be just fine on my own," you gave him a half-smile.  "It's not like I'll be able to live peacefully if I escaped anyway.  They'd always be on our tail.  We'd never escape the danger of the Fatui."  Xiao glared at Childe when he heard the regurgitation of the harbinger's words.

"...Are you sure you want this?"  Zhongli observed you carefully.  "Once you join the Fatui, there will be no escape."

"If it's to protect everyone, if it's to protect the three of you, I'm sure."  You weren't aware of the tears that stained your face.  You then turned your attention to Xiao, who stood back.  "Listen, I-"

"I don't agree with this," he said plainly.  "I told you there was no need to sacrifice yourself for anyone's sake.  I told you to trust in us."

"Xiao."  You threw your arms around him, feeling him flinch under your sudden touch before hesitantly placing his hands at your sides.  I can't stand around and let innocents get hurt, just as you can't do the same.  His eyes widened as he quietly listened to your prayer.  You pulled away slightly and brushed his bangs out of his face, hand cupping his cheek.  A few of your tears were falling from his eyes as he looked into yours.  You brought your forehead to his, intent on holding him for as long as he'd let you.  You may never understand this, and that's okay, but I love you.

Xiao's breath caught in his throat and his grip around you tightened.  His eyes wavered immensely, releasing more tears as he replayed your prayer in his mind.  Only, a couple of those tears didn't belong to you; they were his own.  "What're you..."

"Heh, you have no idea how hard it was to say that," you forced a laugh as more tears dripped down your cheeks, and you tore away from him completely.

Aether watched the two of you with utter confusion, while Zhongli observed you intently.  It appears she has admitted her feelings.  Xiao, will you follow suite?  His gaze flicked expectantly  to the yaksha, who was more than distraught and traumatized by the entire situation.

You didn't wait nor expect a reply.  "I will aid you," you spun around and addressed the Tsaritsa, "but it will be under my terms.  These three are to stay out of whatever you're scheming.  Not a single hair on the tops of their heads is to be harmed."

"You have my word." The Tsaritsa thought it was adorable at how hard-headed you were.  It reminded her of Childe, and also that of an ant.  Such a small insignificant being that thought it held a significant place in this world.  Absolutely adorable.

"You guys should leave," you lowered your voice as you turned back to the trio of your apparently-not-needed rescuers.  "I'm sorry I've caused you all this trouble.  Please know traveling with you three meant the world to me."  The tears continued to fall even though you failed to acknowledge their presence.

"You're serious about this," Aether bit his lip to prevent himself from crying.  "But your Granny...the village...the Lantern Rite--"

"I'll come back one day.  That's a promise," your eyes met Xiao's.  I swear to Rex Lapis, I will return.

The Tsaritsa watched you return to her after seeing your friends off.  A disturbing smile spread across her lips as you forced yourself to kneel at her feet.  "I believe you've earned this back."  She held her hand out to reveal your vision, to which you slowly took it into your hands and stared at it with vacant eyes.

You felt nothing as you attached it to your belt loop.

[vibraniumphoenix]

my stars know about you. [ s.w ]

a sam wilson x fem!reader blurb wherein sam finds the old videos the reader has when he was snapped away.

WARNING: a bit of angst and tfatws spoilers for those who haven’t watched but aside from that, nothing else.

A/N: ha yes hello i impulsively wrote this bcs my muse was so high all of a sudden and i have this monologue ready for it. listened to this playlist right here and wendy ft. john legend’s written in the stars <3 also, is this still a blurb ??

updated a/n: BYE I FORGOT THAT I WROTE THIS AKDFNKFJN my heart is so soft hhhh

---

Sam had promised you he would clean around the house while you go on a fun little weekend with Sarah and the boys, wanting to give you more time to relax and be around his family; his lips churning up into a small yet giddy smile at the thought of the small velvet box hiding somewhere in your shared room that contained the necklace you’ve been eyeing whenever the two of you could go out.

He was half-way done with the things hidden in your work drawer when he came across a flash drive that had a label written on it called visual diary. His brows furrowed lightly as walked to his side of the office, opening his laptop and plugged it in, opening the files to see multiple videos titled with dates, the first one from all the way back in 2018.

Sam shifted in his seat, clicking on that certain video only to be greeted by your tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes, under eyes dark from the possible lack of sleep. His heart dropped at the distraught look on your face as you took a deep breath in before looking into the camera.

“hey sam, it’s me. it’s一 it’s been exactly five days since Nat called me about how you were one of the people who, unfortunately, got snapped into non-existence.”

The way you spoke caused goosebumps to form along his skin, realizing that these were probably videos you’d made five years ago, when the snap happened. Sam’s heart was shattered at how lost you looked from the other side of the screen, wanting nothing more than to cradle you in his arms.

“I’m with Sarah right now, she’s sleeping in her room with Aj and Cass. She’s been strong, but you can see the worry in her eyes一 she’s holding up much better than I am though. I’ve been such a mess, I can’t look into the mirror without seeing… feeling you beside me. I miss you.”

Sam stopped the video, his own tears starting to choke him upon seeing the state that you and his younger sister have been. He knew that it was hard, after seeing Sarah struggle with the family business and keeping things together; seeing you wake up at night with cold sweat glistening on your skin as you jolted up from yet another nightmare of him not coming back.

He wanted to stop from diving deep into the videos but his curiosity was stronger. He scrolled through some more videos, randomly clicking on one.

This time, Sam was greeted with a somewhat cheery you, out on the hill you first confessed your attraction to him一 the same night he admitted that he loves you more than a friend, where everything started between the both of you.

“hey there, handsome. i surely hope you can recognize where i’m at right now, if not, then i guess i’m kicking your ass.”

He chuckled, finding your humor amusing despite how lackluster your tone was as you spoke into the camera. Sam reached up to trace your features that were present on his screen, remembering every single feature of yours, engraving it into the forefront of his mind.

“today’s the day we’re supposed to celebrate our first anniversary, sammy. we should’ve been in hawaii by now, swimming with the fishes or explore the beauty of that island. instead, i’m here, in my car alone on the hill where we first admitted our feelings for each other.”

Sam didn’t fail to notice how you were trying your best to hold back your tears, taking note of how your tongue poked the inside of your cheek一 a habit he noticed you would do whenever fighting strong emotions一 and he whispered a small, “Don’t hold your tears back, sweetheart.” and as if you heard him, you let out a small chuckle.

“if you were here right now, i know you would say something like, “don’t bottle those tears up, beautiful” or something along those lines. i want you to know that i’m trying, sam. but it’s hard, it’s been five long months since you’ve been gone and i don’t know how long i can last without hearing you say you love me or your obnoxious laughter that would resonate through the house.”

“I love you, baby.” was all that left Sam’s lips, tongue jutting out to dampen his lips as he listened to you speak, mind blank as too many thoughts about what he wants to say to you as of the moment are too much.

“i’ve told the stars about your laughter. it’s niche and cliche, i know, but mom told me to tell them all about the people i treasure the most whenever i can’t tell others about them.”

“i told them about how beautiful you are一 about how scintillating your eyes are that they could battle even the brightest star in the sky tonight. i let my stars know about how amazing of a chef you are even though you almost burnt my old apartment’s kitchen down because you forgot about the cake you tried so hard to bake.”

Sam cringed at the memory, nose scrunching up in disbelief that he could forget such a simple task; he spent the night apologizing and all you ever did was smile and lean in to give him a kiss in hopes to shut him up.

“i told my stars about how brilliant you are一 how your words are so deep even with the shortest sentences, about how you can easily captivate me and a bunch of others with the stories that you speak… about how much love you have for me and for everyone you care for. it never ceases to amaze me how you can stand up and fight for the people that you love.”

At this point, Sam was already in tears as you shared about how you spoke about him. He adored how your eyes were filled with that well-known fondness you have whenever you speak about something you love.

As the video ended, Sam was left to look at the reflection of himself on the screen, staring at his reflection as your words echoed in his mind. He always listened to you ramble on about how everyone’s destiny was written somewhere in the skies, their lives aligned like the constellations that shined bright in the nighttime.

Normally, he would brush it off, skeptic to that belief but as he tuned into your stories, he can’t help but believe that in what you were saying. Sam was about to play another video when he heard the familiar jangle of your keys in the front door.

Sam pulled out of his chair and raced over there to meet you, immediately engulfing you in a tight hug before you could even close the door. “Hello, beautiful.” he softly greeted, pulling away to place a light kiss on your temple. “How was your weekend away with Sarah and the boys?”

You chuckled softly at the sudden affection he was giving, dropping your duffel bag on the floor to wrap your arms around his torso, feeling how relaxed he was against you. “It was great! Could’ve been better if you were there to be with us.” you answered, reaching up to peck his lips a few times, making the latter smile. “What’s with the affection? Did you break something, Samuel? Wait一 were you crying?”

He shook his head, adamant in admitting that he was, he lifted you up easily as he took you over to your shared office, sitting back down on his office chair with you in his lap as he showed you the compilation of the videos, “I… I found the flash drive while cleaning and I got a little too curious and decided to see what was on it and well, turns out I got a bit more than what I expected.”

“I was going to show them to you one day, Sam.” you admitted, making yourself comfortable as you snuggled up to him, his arms laced around you securely. “But I wanted to make it a bit more… special since this was a very vulnerable time for me.” the softness in your voice made him curl a single digit under your chin to make you look at him.

“I’m sorry that I left you alone for that long, baby girl.” Sam apologized, feeling incredibly guilty for leaving. Despite knowing it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t bring himself to accept that you and his sister had to spend so many years without him. “I know you’ve told me multiple times that I shouldn’t say sorry, but I can’t help it. You’ve waited for so long.”

“And I’ll wait a million more if it meant I could be with you.” you cut him off, shifting slightly to make you face him completely. “You can go anywhere, anytime, for how long and I would wait for you to come back every single time. So please don’t feel guilty about it, love.” your hands holding the sides of his face as you start to pepper it with gentle kisses.

You smile at his peaceful expression, “My heart is in peace knowing that we’re written somewhere in the stars.” you say to him softly, squishing his cheeks in a playful manner, light laughter filling up the room.

Sam smiled, sealing the feather-like kisses with his lips on yours, capturing it for an intimate one that conveyed how much love he has for you, resting his forehead on yours right after. “You know that I love you, right Y/N?”

“I do and I love you so much more, Sam.”

---

[bokutosworld]

a wish come true | oikawa t. 

pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

wc: 1.6k words, fluff. domestic husband and wife relationship with my fave pretty setter <3 

summary: Oikawa loves Christmas. And what better way to celebrate his favorite season than with his avorite person in the world? 

this is part of the winter wonderland collab! masterlist here

Oikawa honestly believes that Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. Ever since he was young, he has looked forward to waking up to snowy mornings and the sounds of Christmas carols playing in the house.

The holidays made him feel happy, warm, and blessed. More so now that he will be spending his first Christmas married to you.

Always the first one to wake up, Oikawa opened his eyes with a content smile on his face. A glance to the window on his right side and he sees the tiny snowflakes falling down, he can already imagine how they have painted the streets in white.

His eyes then land on the picture frame sitting on the bedside table. Stretching a hand to grab it, he admires the joyous moment where he has you engulfed in his arms, the two of you looking at each other with so much affection. It's like he traveled back in time as his body remembers the overwhelming feeling of joy from your wedding day. He recalls how he teared up seeing you walk down the aisle, smiling from ear to ear and looking gorgeous in your dress. He thought that you were an angel that descended from the heavens. Most of all, he still feels emotional, his heart beating twice as fast when he thinks back to the first kiss the two of you shared as husband and wife. It was a gesture that sealed a promise of a lifetime, the beginning of forever with the one and only person that completes his life.

He returns the photo in its place when he hears the rustling of the blanket and quiet groans as you slowly come awake. Oikawa shifts and admires your sleeping face, bringing a finger to gently trace the outline of your features starting from your eyebrows to the bridge of your nose and hovering over the shape of your lips.

You murmur softly, opening one eye to look at him. It never failed to make you warm when you are greeted with Oikawa's smile first thing in the morning. Groggily, you cup his face and tenderly stroke his cheek, "Good morning, love."

"Merry Christmas." He hums and leans closer, showering you with morning kisses. He has you trapped in his embrace as he continues to pepper you with love, and just like that the first few minutes of the Christmas Day are spent tangled in the sheets and enjoying each other's warmth.

While this was your first Christmas as a married couple, Oikawa didn't have that much expectations as how the day would go by. As long as he had you by his side, any activity became extra special - whether it's watching classic holiday movies, making a snowman on the park, or sipping on hot chocolates by the fireplace together. But there is one thing that he would like to make as a tradition for the Christmases to come.

"A Christmas market?" You ask when he shows you the event poster on his phone. Oikawa enthusiastically proposed the idea of heading down to the city and spend the evening in the annual Christmas market. Back when you were still dating, weekend bazaars and community fairs were events that you and Oikawa enjoyed. While these places were often crowded, the two of you managed to have fun and act lovey-dovey in your own little world, much to the envy of the people around you.

"I heard there will be a string quartet that will be performing later this evening," he suggested. "There's also an illuminations show near the square where a massive tree is located. And of course, our favorite food booths and vendors will be there." He takes your hand and looks at you expectantly, "What do you say?"

With the way Oikawa presented the idea, he seemed like a child talking about what he wants  for Christmas. And how could you say no to that?

Which is how you and Oikawa currently found yourselves decked in your coats and matching red and green scarves, hand in hand and standing in front of the brightly-illuminated arch that served as the entrance to the market. From your position, you can see the park bursting with life as many people came to enjoy with their loved ones. You can already see the different booths that were lined up in the path and Oikawa excitedly tugged you to the first stall that was selling gingerbread cookies in a box. 

"Love, can we take a 10 minute rest? I'm tired." You begged after spending the last 30 minutes upon your arrival, walking around and going from one booth to another to either play parlor games or stuff your stomachs with whatever food and snack you find. Of course, Oikawa didn't pass up on buying the Christmas gifts that he thought he could give to his former teammates.

Sensing your exhaustion, Oikawa relented and brought you to the nearest bench. As you sat down, he put the shopping bags by your side and bent down. He slid off one of your shoes and massaged the heels that were starting to hurt. Oikawa looked up at you inquisitively, "Is this helping? Am I doing this right?"

You chuckle, "Very much so. Thanks." He continued his ministrations for a few minutes, the joyful sound of Christmas carols filling the silence between the two of you. When he's done, he takes the space beside you and instinctively, you lean your head on his shoulders.

However, the quiet atmosphere didn't last for long as it was replaced by the loud wailing of a child who sat alone near your bench. Worried, you both stood up from your place and accompanied the little girl.

"Ssh, hey, princess, stop crying." Oikawa consoled her, gently patting the kid on the head as she continued to sob. Her frail body was shaking and you quickly brought her to your chest and embraced her,

"Where are your parents, sweetheart?"

Her answer came in a hushed tone, "I lost them. I let go of my mommy's hand. I'm scared." She was really terrified with the way her tiny hand gripped the lining of your coat. You glanced at Oikawa and he was also close to crying, his lips quivering as he was trying to stop the tears from flowing down his eyes.

Wiping away her cries, you comforted her, "Alright, don't worry. We're here for you, okay, sweetheart? Let's go find your parents. I'm sure they are looking for you right now."

You get up and offer your hand to the girl, but she surprised you when she clung on to Oikawa, hiding her face in his coat. His heart warmed at the action so he carried her in his arms all the way until she was reunited with her mom and dad.

Luckily, the search wasn't as difficult as you thought it would be. When you arrived at the customer service, a couple was already standing in wait. Their eyes widened when they saw you and Oikawa walking over with their daughter, and they couldn't be more thankful for keeping their little girl safe and returning her to their side.

Now, you and Oikawa were taking a stroll along the sidewalk, the cold evening breeze fanning over your faces and the lights decorated on the trees guiding the path. Oikawa's mind seemed to be somewhere distant as he simply looked straight ahead. You remember how he reassured the child when she hugged him tightly, and you thought that Oikawa would be a great father someday.

Oikawa suddenly stops in his tracks, turning to you with a look as if he has realized something. "Have I told you that I love you lately?"

So this was what he was thinking so seriously about. You smiled, "I don't know. You could always tell me again."

He nods and pulls you close to him, burying his face in your neck. He exhales your familiar and comforting scent, and it's like a fog clears in his head. "I'm so lucky to have you. You're everything that I have been wishing for and more."

"You're my dream come true," he murmurs. You were too stunned to say anything in response to his surprise confession. It's not like he hasn't openly declared his love for you before, but when he has outbursts like this, you were always bound to be speechless. Laughing awkwardly, you ask about what brought this on.

"I don't know," he sighs. "I just got too attached with the little girl earlier and I thought about how her parents might be feeling when she got separated from them. I realized I don't ever want to lose you." He stares at your eyes, hopeful as he says, "Or our future kid."

You blinked at his statement, mouth agape in shock as you thought about what he was implying. The gears were running in your head and when they finally clicked, that's when you found the courage to speak. "Are you saying-?

He lifts your hand and kisses it, "I know it’s too soon. We just got married seven months ago. But, I already want to start a family with you."

And as if on cue, you started tearing up uncontrollably. Probably out of happiness. Or maybe it was the raging hormones that you felt as you thought back to a morning two weeks ago, when you were sitting in the toilet and waiting for the results of your pregnancy test - two lines. Positive.

And here you were now, you couldn't think of a better time to share the good news with Oikawa. You were smiling through your tears as you looked at Oikawa, bringing his face close to yours as you whispered, "Looks like your wish came true earlier than expected."

His initial reaction was confusion, replaced by shock, then happiness as he unraveled the meaning of your words. He tackles you in an embrace, lifting and twirling you around as the snowflakes danced in the air. He already can't wait for next Christmas where there will be the three of you celebrating.

FIN. taglist - @aii-channn​ @peteunderoos​ @jungtoast​ @nekoclysm​ @our-tall-slytherin-queen​ @isabella5 @slippinglasses​ @yhyucklee @rowley-with-ackerman​ @lilacnoodles @ineedsomefoodpls​ (can’t tag those in italics!)

[imagine-loki]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 1 Trigger Warning - Non-Con and abuse

TITLE: Tear You To Pieces CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was sent to make up for his deeds by helping out The Avengers at the tower. Everyone thinks he’s changed, but he is just biding his time. He manipulates and uses someone who works there, who has a crush on him, to get exactly what he wants.  RATING: M

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: DARK LOKI, RAPE/NON-CON, MANIPULATION, MURDER, VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, KIDNAPPING

  ‘You shouldn’t be here, pet.’ Loki hummed low as he strolled across the room towards her.

She gasped when she saw Loki, and as much as she wanted to cower away from him and run, she didn’t want to leave her sister’s body either. She leaned over her sister more, tears still falling down her face. ‘You… you MONSTER! WHY? Why would you do... THIS?’ She yelled at him bravely, or perhaps foolishly.

Loki smirked as he stepped over Steve’s body without so much as a thought as he continued towards the mortal girl.

‘You should be kneeling before me, thanking me for sparing you.’ He hissed at her, drawing ever closer to her, unhurriedly, but with purpose with his large strides.

She shook her head quickly. ‘No… no! I could never thank you. You used me!’ She screamed at him.

He chuckled darkly. ‘Oh no, I’ve not even begun to use you yet. There is still something you’ve been keeping from me.’

Loki was just a few feet away from her now, with the most menacing look on his face that she had ever seen. It chilled her to the core. She knew she needed to run, she couldn’t let him reach her.

Looking down longingly at her sister for the last time, she scrambled to her feet and attempted to run.

Loki laughed at her. ‘Oh, pet. I thought you’d know by now how much I love to play.’ He growled.

- - - 

Loki was skulking around the tower, just taking everything in as usual. But remaining quiet and inconspicuous. Not that anyone cared what he was doing, anyway.

No one trusted him, or liked him. Even though Thor constantly told everyone on a daily basis that he was redeeming himself. That his brother was still in there.

If only he truly knew…

As Loki entered the laboratory, part of his duty was to help Stark and Banner with some research, but they barely even wanted him there, nobody looked up to greet him apart from one person.

Kelly Hill.

She was Maria’s younger sister. The only person to actually treat Loki like another being, never mind actually smiling at him and saying hi. Which she always did when he walked into the same room as her.

She would always try and include him. Inviting him to the game nights and parties, making him coffee when she made for herself in the mornings and always asking how he was. Even if his answer was always the same.

‘As good as one can be on this abysmal realm.’

He smirked at her when she blushed a little, she was always getting a little flustered in his company.

‘And how may you be today, Miss Hill?’ He asked in return, knocking her off guard slightly. That was the first time he had actually asked her how she was in return.

‘I’m good… And just call me Kelly.’ She smiled brightly up at him, glad she was finally getting somewhere with the God.

‘Very well, Kelly.’ Loki winked at her and bowed his head slightly in politeness. Then he proceeded on to see what Stark and Banner were up to. Leaving Kelly swooning on the spot.

Loki smirked to himself. He had known from early on that she had a crush on him. It wasn’t hard to spot, her constant state of being flustered when he was around, sometimes tripping over her own tongue when she spoke to him. The way she was unable to maintain eye contact with him without blushing like mad.

Up until now, he had never desired nor had a reason to flirt back with her.

But now, he had a reason. For he had a plan.

For a whole year he had been slaving away in this godforsaken tower, making out to be changed. That he no longer craved power and acceptance. When in reality, he was biding his time. He could be incredibly patient when needed, when he knew the end result would be worth it.

And boy, was this going to be worth it.

He had been taking note of all of the Avengers weaknesses. Studying them carefully, learning what makes each of them tick. Working out strategies to split them all apart and burn the place to the ground.

But he needed one thing. When he was sent to Midgard, Odin pulled most of his power from him and contained it in a specially sealed box. It was sent down with him too, it was now being kept in the securest place in the tower. Behind many security walls and locks.

Whilst he had some of his power, it was nowhere near enough for what he needed to do. He only had around twenty percent of what he should have.

Though he knew one person that would be able to get him his power back.

The one person who was able to crack codes and was part of Tony’s security team.

Who just so happened to have the biggest crush on him.

And he was most definitely going to be taking advantage of that.

[whump-me-all-night-long]

The Jewelry Box: Amber’s Beginning pt. 2

Well, here’s part two to the intro of the series. There’s probably going to be a part three, although when that will get written is anyone’s guess.

Taglist: @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: intimate whumper, creepy whumper, collared, multiple whumpees, lady whump/whumpees, referenced death(s), Jess (and Sapphire) continue to have dirty mouths, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Masterlist here

---

To Jess’ eternal disappointment,  the key was not, in fact, for their collar. Instead the Jeweler - Jess’ lip curled at the name - used it to unhook the chain from the headboard. Once that was off, Jess leapt up, intending to sprint to the door and figure out the rest of their plan from there.

The Jeweler had other plans. As soon as Jess was on their feet, he swept a leg under them, sending them toppling to the ground with a grunt. 

Disoriented, Jess pulled themself onto their hands and knees, a hand holding their head. They were about to try to get back up when a foot pressed down on their back, between their shoulder blades. Their unsteady arms and legs gave out beneath them and they tumbled back down, flat on their stomach. They glared somewhere above them, snapping, “Jeez, dude, can you just not?!”

The Jeweler laughed above them, adding a bit more weight onto their back. “Before we leave this room, I want to make sure we have an understanding. There will be no funny business from you, okay? You will behave and then I won’t have to punish you. Everyone wins.”

Jess scowled into the wooden floor. Dream on, fucker, they thought, but they said, “Okay, fine. I understand.”

“Wonderful.” The Jeweler hauled them back to their feet, making sure to keep the chain wrapped tightly around his hand. When he tugged on it, Jess was forced to follow them or risk suffocation. The Jeweler gestured back to the tray he had set down on the nightstand. “Now, do you want to take it or not? It’ll help you recover quicker, last night was not nice to you, but I won’t force you. Not this time at least.”

Jess glanced back at the tray, noticing that there were a couple inconspicuous white pills and a glass of water sitting on it. Hell no, they thought, shaking their head. “No- no way, dude.” They glanced at the Jeweler, wondering if he was about to get angry and blow his lid off.

But he just smiled, opening the door. “Very well.” He lead them out into a surprisingly normal hallway, with several doors and branching hallways on either side. A few picture frames were hung on the wall.

As the Jeweler lead them, Jess let their eyes wander over the pictures, not realizing what they were seeing until one in particular caught their eye.

It was a figure dressed in bright, rich shades of reds and oranges. Their skin was warm brown and their hair, which fell in waves down their back, looked as if it was almost on fire. Orange-gold flakes decorated their skin and hair, and they looked to be posing on their toes, arms arching out above them. They were quite beautiful.

Jess shook their head and began to move on, wondering why they were thinking that, when they noticed that the Jeweler had stopped too. He was gazing at the photo, with a wistful sort of longing. “That was my Garnet,” he said. “He was such a shining soul. Shame…” He trailed off before looking up at Jess. “He was one of my first Jewels,” the man explained. “But an accident-” his lips pursed at that- “caused him to leave too soon. It was a mercy to put him down.”

Jess felt disgust and horror mingle inside them. This man had killed someone? Jess looked back at the picture, noticing what they hadn’t the first time. Nearly invisible wires pulled at Garnet’s wrists, forcing him to balance precariously on his toes. Bruises, almost perfectly concealed, dotted the man’s body. And his eyes were wide not in excitement, but fear, with tears welled up in them. 

Jess shuddered, not resisting as the Jeweler led them on further. A wave of nauseous dizziness swept through them, most likely remnants from whatever the Jeweler had slipped them. They turned down several more hallways, Jess quickly becoming hopelessly lost. There were no windows or doors that lead outside. Finally, after several tense minutes of silence, the Jeweler stopped in front of a door that looked like all the other doors in the halls. 

Using another key, he unlocked the door, revealing an illuminated set of stairs. The Jeweler cheerfully set off down them, pulling Jess along too. The door clanged shut above them, locking, and Jess swallowed, unable to help the feeling that they were being swallowed up by the earth. 

When they reached the bottom, there was another door waiting for them, this one made of solid steel. The Jeweler unlocked it using a very long pin number and a fingerprint ID. Jess watched on, amazed and terrified at the how well organized this man was. The door swung open after a short beep, and Jess frowned, peering closer to look inside. 

The Jeweler gave a quick tug on the chain, causing them to stumble forward into the room. The floor, ceiling, and walls were all the same plain white tile, and there were several racks filled with a huge variety of objects behind glass cabinets along the back wall. Jess saw everything from workout equipment to swathes of cloth to a number of items they chose not to take a closer look at. But that wasn’t the weirdest part.

No, the weirdest part were the six small cells set into the walls, three on either of the side walls, with large panes of glass acting as the fourth wall and keeping them sealed. Well, that and the humans trapped inside them.

Jess jumped back and stared, wide-eyed and unbelieving, at the five people trapped, one to a cell, with the one empty one glaring out at them.

“What- what the hell is this place?” Jess croaked, turning to the Jeweler.

Before the Jeweler could answer, though, one of the people - a young man, maybe a few years older than Jess, with vibrant blue hair and a scowl Jess could see from a mile away - banged on the glass of his cell, glaring at the Jeweler.

“You asshole!” he yelled. Jess blinked, surprised. How long had he been stuck in this place? “Carn- Carnelian’s only been gone a couple of days! And you’ve already replaced him?!”

Jess took a step back, curling in on themself. Whatever they had stumbled into must’ve been a hell of a lot bigger than they first thought.

The Jeweler just smiled, glancing at Jess. “Ah, yes, this is my new Jewel, Amber. Amber, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Amber.”

A wave of anger swept over Jess and they snapped before they could help it. “I told you, fucker, my name is not Amber, it’s fuckin’ J-” 

They was cut off by a sudden cracking noise and pain exploding in their face. It took them a moment to realize what had happened: the Jeweler had slapped them. They blinked, a burst of dizziness exploding through them. They were one of the most skilled fighters they knew, and they hadn’t even seen the blow coming.

The Jeweler watched them, an expression of interest on his face. Jess felt their lip curling, and forced themself to back off. The Jeweler smiled, as if he could tell what was playing through Jess’ mind. 

He turned, gesturing to each of the people. “This is Sapphire-” the blue boy let out what sounded too much like a growl for comfort- “Ruby-” a short, slight slip of a girl with the most vibrant red hair Jess had ever seen glanced up at them, fear in her eyes- “Amethyst-” a much taller, curvier, paler woman with pastel purple hair watched them with calculating eyes- “Emerald-” a man build like an ox with dark skin and kind green eyes watched without expressing much interest- “and my darling Diamond-” a person with the palest skin Jess had ever seen, white hair tumbling over their shoulders, smiled up at the Jeweler. With how pale and faded they looked, Jess could swear they might be a ghost. They also seemed like the only person who was actually happy to see the Jeweler. Everyone else seemed angry or fearful.

The Jeweler smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “Now that introductions are done, I’ll show you to your new home, let you get acquainted with the other Jewels, and then I’ll be back later to continue your initiation.” 

The Jeweler lead them to the empty cell, which was, of course, right next to the angry one - Sapphire. Jess had never been good with names, so it was a good thing that each of the other people were so obviously color-coded to go with the gemstone they were named after. The Jeweler unlocked the door to the cell, and shoved Jess inside, unhooking the chain and slamming the door back closed, all in a few smooth motions. 

Jess stumbled in, glancing around at their surroundings - a small bed attached to the far wall, an empty nightstand next to it, and a metal toilet across from it (Jess had seen prison cells more luxurious than this) - before turning back to face the Jeweler. They took up their fighting stance, legs planted slightly apart, arms crossed in front of them, and a look on their face that was a mix between a scowl and a smirk - a smirl, they called it - that Jules said could make anyone throw the first punch. 

“So what?” they drawled. “This some psycho dream of yours, kidnapping innocent people and dressing them up as, what are these? Gemstones?”

The Jeweler’s smile twitched, which was one of the first signs of his emotions, but when he replied, his tone was light. “Jewels, actually.” He took a step back, surveying Jess. “I’ll be back later,” he said with a wave of his hand, and before Jess knew it, he was gone.

[stxrrywildflower]

for better or for worse (3)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - when the people they love the most are kidnapped and ripped out of their hands, the bau does everything they can to get them back before it turns dire

warnings - mentions of case, injury details, angst

series masterlist

bloody jewelry and seven smashed phones.

that’s all the bau team had to go off of in the investigation.

just like hotch had offered, he stepped up to take charge of the situation. emily was thankful to be able to step down for the case, the stress was bulding up and she was ready to crack.

hotch fell back into his leadership role naturally, already pulling someone up from the tech department to do their research and computer work. morgan focused on getting everyone back in the mindset they needed.

luke and spencer were most difficult.

for luke, he felt extremely guilty. morgan did the best he could in helping the agent, though penelope missing did affect him as well.

spencer was a whole different story. he couldn’t think straight, they caught him shaking more than once. sure a walk emily had sent him on did help, though coming back started the cycle all over again.

“hey pretty boy,” morgan started. that nickname alone made spencer flinch. “mind if we go and talk?”

the two men stood up, nodding towards emily and hotch who waved them off.

“i feel like a lot of conversations are happening in here,” spencer commented upon entering morgan’s old office.

“what can i say, it’s a good space,” morgan smiled.

morgan sat on the edge of the desk while spencer took the couch, immediately grabbing a pillow to hold against him. “i’ve already talked to alvez but i figured we need to sit down one on one.”

“it’s not your job to be the team therapist.”

both laughed at that. “yeah well as your friend and honorary older brother, it’s my job to check up on you. and i know how hard this case is for you. i may not be a profiler anymore but your body language is all over the place. and i’m sure that-”

“you know what the last thing i said to y/n was?” spencer interrupted.

morgan stayed quiet, not wanting to say the wrong thing to potentially set him off. “i told her i loved her too,” spencer revealed quietly. “i was dropped her off at her apartment and she kissed me goodnight before telling me she loved me.”

the older agent hugged spencer, not exactly knowing how else to console him other than that. it broke his heart at both the confession and the tears that had started to flow down his cheeks. morgan’s hugs were comforting, they always were. “we’ll get her back kid. that way you can tell her you love her again.”

they stayed in there for a little while longer, talking to refresh their minds of the situation. “we should head back. who knows what the team has discovered by now,” morgan offered. spencer accepted the extended hand to help him up and the two headed back towards the bullpen.

all bets must have been placed on the unsubs making contact sometime soon and through a phone call. a phone incase of ransom or demands was set up on luke’s desk, another machine set up to help trace a call.

hotch and emily remained by the desk while the others work, though main focus was on the device.

the second the phone rang, all members of the team’s attention immediately went to the device. hotch held his hand out, letting them know to keep quiet before signaling emily to pick up the phone.

“hello?” the unit chief answered.

a staticky voice, obviously altered in some form, played over the speaker of the phone.

“you will be receiving a note in exactly fifteen minutes. i expect you to choose wisely.”

sixteen words. sixteen words was all the communication they had from your captors. and it still didn’t feel like enough. “good and bad news,” the new tech analyst announced. “i didn’t pinpoint an exact location but i did narrow it down to areas. they’re no where in the city, somewhere west.”

“choose, what do they mean choose?” j.j. rushed out, panic evident in her tone.

“i need everyone up in the conference room.”

just like the unsub has said, anderson entered the office holding a long office envelope. he handed it over to hotch, who placed it on the round table for examination.

a piece of paper was the first thing pulled out, folded neatly and sealed with wax. with gloved hands, hotch pulled at the folds, breaking the seal. inside, in perfect red ink, was the promised note.

seventy million in twenty dollar bills for their safe return. ten million for each person

or,

ten million for one. your choice. you have 24 hours.

“they want us to choose?”

hotch frowned, reaching back into the envelope

spencer held his hand over his mouth, not even close to being prepared for what he, and the rest of the team, saw.

seven polaroids, all glossy and crisp, were layed out on the table. each was a different picture, all from the neck up. you, along with the others, occupied a square. your injuries were shown, displaying the level of injuries everyone had suffered.

you, andrew, and will were easily the worst. your face was bruised and bloody, dried blood on your nose and dripping from a cut on your forehead. andrew had a similar cut, this time on both of his cheeks. will had a split lip and swollen eyes.

the others, had just a few knicks and bruises. they looked relatively fine, just in shock from the situation.

“oh my god,” j.j. was the first to speak, reaching out to pick up the photo of her husband. the rest did the same, no one knowing how to react to the pictures.

spencer was seconds away from running out of the room, his stomach was flipping and he just overall felt sick. he wanted to rip the photo up, never wanting to see it again.

“we need to start from the begining,” hotch announced. “they’re obviously a team. there’s no way they could have taken seven people without assistance. but that does raise another risk, they could potentially split if something does go wrong.”

that sentence didn’t ease the team at all.

“let’s focus on what they left. broken phones is to let us know they’re missing. but i think we should be focusing on the word love,” morgan added.

“that’s obvious,” matt spoke up. “they’re the people we love the most. by taking them away from us, they want us to experience a certain type of pain.

“we could be looking at siblings!” emily exclaimed.

j.j. nodded at that. “that does make sense. usually partnerships like this wouldn’t have the same level of hatred unless they shared the exact same experience. abandonment or losing someone could be a trigger.”

“we need to look at triplets and siblings who experienced some from of loss in the family. it’s going to be a long list but we can reduce it by the property owned,” hotch ordered.

while the tech analyst did their own digging, the rest of the team went through a box of every case involving families in the state.

it was a painful process, taking seven hours before anyone actually found anything. by then, the conference room was a mess of papers scattered around and empty coffee mugs.

the team narrowed it town to triplets, one girl and two boys. their parents had passed when they were teenagers, the oldest boy gaining custody of them. they were forced to live on their own, fending for each other. they had it out for the bau ever since they denied looking into their case.

besides motive, they owned a ranch a bit further outside of the city. a perfect place to conceal their plans. adding on to the lack of paper trail and trigger, it was more than likely that they were the unsubs.

no one from the bau team was allowed to go on the raid, their emotions could greatly alter the arrest. hotch and morgan led it, accompanied by swat.

instead, they were sent to the hospital. it was inevitable that all of you would need medical attention, it was the best option for them to go and wait, hoping for your safe return.

almost an hour went by without any news.

the team sat in one of the designated waiting rooms, all having some nervous quirk to help calm them down.

with little warning, a flood of doctors and nurses passed the room, a few police officers and swat agents as well. at the end of it all were hotch and morgan, both taking off their kevlar vests as they entered the room.

in an instant, everyone was standing up. emily was the first one to attempt to leave the room. hotch blocked the doorway, using his hand to prevent her from going anywhere.

“hotch what the hell. let me through,” emily demanded.

one flick of the eyes back and forth between the two former agents was all the team needed to raise further questions. it was and has always been a telltale sign that they were either lying or hiding information.

“what aren’t you telling us?”

hotch let out a sigh. the tense silence in the room did nothing for anyone’s nerves.

“we only got four of them.”

☆ ☆ ☆

teaser

tags - @zozoleesi @emxlyprentxss @spencerreidfanatic00 @mrs-dr-reid @irjuejjsaa @ogmilkis @sageellesworth05 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @brainyreid @ah-blossom @kissessforharryyy @ssareidbby @spencersglasses @spenciepoo338 @mggstyles @emilouu @loki-an-idiot @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @pianofirepirate @ssa-morgan @afuckingshituniverse @spencerslatte @reminiscing-writer @kianagilder-blog @ssaic-jareau @theatrenerd101601 @drprettyboyreid @emilyxprentiss

[liibrii]

Ojiro Aran x Reader

Part 2 of this scribble

Genre: angsty with a happy ending 

Warnings: Inarizaki shares 1 brain cell and the manager is using it 24/7 ; some cursing

A/N: after that first part I felt really bad for breaking reader's heart so here we go. 

For the remaining days of the training camp Aran can't look you in the eyes. Somehow that hurts more than his rejection. Your heart lays in shards and pieces yet that doesn't sting nearly as much as the awkward glances and silence and the careful tip-toeing he does when you're around. You try your best to act as if nothing happened. Hiding behind laughter and smiles is so easy nobody on the team notices you're heartbroken.

It all changes once you return home. Your room is so silent when you hide under covers and hug your favourite plushy. Your throat itches and every breath hurts. It's just a stupid crush, you keep telling yourself, just a crush that will fade away. Yet in that moment it doesn't hurt any less. You burry your face in the pillow to muffle your sobs.

Before the summer break started you made plans with other third years to meet at Kita's and watch the stars. Hours before you were supposed to meet you come up with an excuse and stay home. You aren't sure you could handle Aran's presence without bursting into tears.

You shudder at the though of the coming weekly practices. If only you had put more effort in finding another manager. Quiting the club would be so simple then.  

Summer practices were the ideal time for mischief. With no homework so much time was left to freely ponder how best to rig the vending machine. At turn you saw a prank practically begging to be pulled. Watermelon dowsed in chilli oil, some salt in a water bottle, volleyball covered with slime that could easily be blamed on sweaty hands, ah the opportunities really were endless. It was the time when your talents shone the brightest.

At least they did in previous years. Now you just want to reorganize the storage and return home as soon as possible.

“Are ya feelin' okay?“ asks Kita after helping you move some very heavy boxes.

Your heart drops. Has he noticed you've barely been holding back tears? “What do you mean?“

“You've been behavin' these last weeks.“

Ah. His reasoning catches you by complete surprise. Part of you wants to laugh, part of you wants to smack him. A part of you is disappointed he hadn't noticed you really need a shoulder to cry on. “Such observational skills Shinsuke, no wonder coach picked you to be the captain.“

“Did somethin' happen between you and-“

“Nothing happened.“

He knows you're lying. The light pat on the head he gives you tells he sees the hurt you've been so thoroughly concealing. Your throat starts itching again and tears threaten to spill before you bite your lip, too stubborn to let them fall.

You take a moment to compose yourself before returning to the gym, glad Aran is nowhere to be seen. Some of your boys are gathered by the bench and you hear the twins arguing. At first you don't care, after all it's a normal occurence. Your curiousity is only sparked once you hear the mention of your name.

“What are they fighting about this time?“ you ask Omimi when you come closer.

Immediate silence falls on the group as they all look at you. Great, what did you do this time?

Atsumu grabs the letter laying on the bench and hands it to you. Your heart drops. You don't have to read it to know what it is.

Your name on the envelope is written so big it's impossible to overlook and it's sealed with a glittery heart sticker.

“Open it, open it,“ urges the blonde and Osamu immediately berates him to leave you be.

You wonder who it could be from. Or maybe you don't want to know. It doesn't fill you with any kind of giddines or anticipation, just with slight nausea accompanied by shaking hands.

You hear a fight erupt behind you.

“Senpai, should we stop them?“ Ginjima points at twins rolling on the ground. You shrug, not really caring what they are up to.

“They could get hurt,“ says Omimi.

“Don't worry Omiren they have no brain so there won't be any permanent damage.“

You stuff the letter in the pocket of your jacket. The tears you've been trying so hard to hold back start running down your cheek and you hurry away before boys could notice.

The letter lies unopened on your bed. You've been contemplating throwing it away on the way home but decided against it. It would be too harsh, throwing someone's feelings away without even considering them. You remove the glittery heart sticker and read the paper inside.

Dear y/n,

you're truly amazin'. Everytime I see ya my day becomes better-

You stop reading. Not because you wouldn't care, but because you recognize the handwriting.

The plan was genius. Bulletproof. Absolutely fantastic without any loopholes and no way of anything possibly going wrong in any way.

All Twins needed to do is make Aran believe someone else is competing for your heart. Stoke his jealousy till it becomes stronger than his utter embarassement over having completely misunderstood your confession.

Only they had no idea you knew the handwriting of everyone on the team in case you ever needed to forge their signature.

Moments after reading the love letter you decide to talk to Osamu the coming day. What point would there be in playing with him? You weren't looking forward to the conversation in the slightest still, better let him down gently as soon as possible.

You try to get him outside after practice ends but his brother doesn't seem pleased only one of them is having your attentin. You grab Osamu's arm, ready to drag him away. “Sorry but we gotta speak in private.“

He doesn't even flinch under your tries to move him. “'Bout what?“

You don't want to do it, but if he refuses to move you had no other choice. You pull out the love letter and watch as all the colour drains from his face. “This.“

“Why would 'Samu know anythin' bout that?“ interferes Atsumu waving frantically and as if that didn't already raise your suspicions he continues to blabber on and on till Osamu stops him.

“Stop Tsumu. We've been found out.“

After they explain their genious plan you need a moment to grasp what is happening. “Okay. Let me get this straight. You thought making Aran jealous would make him confess?“ They nod. “Right. How does me thinking Osamu's got a crush on me help?“

“Yer weren't supposed to know who wrote the letter,“ mummbles Osamu.

“Samu sweetie, you have the most memorable handwriting I've ever seen. By that I mean unreadable. And you used the wrong kanji here, by the way.“

God, when did your boys become such idiots?

“We're sorry.“

If you weren't feeling so many emotions at once you'd find their crushed faces hilarious. Instead you sigh. You're exhausted. And in a need of ice-cream, preferably with some cookies on the side. “Right. Let's never mention this again.“

“Then Aran-san and ya-“

“Aran doesn't like me, alright? It's fine, I'll get over it. Now get your asses back to practice!“

“I never said I didn't like you,“ says a familiar voice from behind your back.

The faces twins make while backing away to leave you alone with Aran make you wish you'd disappear into thin air. It takes all the strength you have to turn. It's the first time in your life you aren't happy to see him. You stand in silence, avoiding his gaze and condidering running away. Aran speaks up before you can act.

“Sorry for avoidin' ya. I've been meanin' to talk with ya but couldn't think of what to say.“ He fidgetes with a rose in his hands. “I'm sorry.“

“Why?“ you weakly ask, unsure if you want to hear the answer.

“When you... confessed. I thought it was a prank. And I never let you explain cause I got scared. I like ya, y/n. But I could never tell if you were messin' around with yer flirtin' or I was just readin' too much into it.“

“Why would I mess around?“

“Well... I never thought you'd actually be interested in me... I mean yer so amazin' ya know. It's no wonder ya have secret admireres. Ya keep track of everythin' the team needs, yer always cheerin' me up when I need it the most.“ His shoulders slump as he utters his next words. “I never believed ya could be in love with someone as borin' as me. I just want ya to know I do like you. More as a friend. Though ya deserve someone better.“

Aran is confessing to you. He is proclaiming his love for you, holding a rose, looking like the prince charming straight out of your dreams. And yet your annoyance grows with every word that comes out of his mouth.

“Excuse me?“ you interrupt. “What the hell do you mean I deserve someone better?“

Your words take him aback. He tries to mummble his way out of this particular pickle but you're having none of it.

“Gosh Aran you can be real impossible sometimes! First of all, how dare youeven think I would ask you out as a joke?! Is that how low of an opinion you have about me?! We're friends for fucks' sake you know me better than that! Second of all, why on earth can't you see I've been head over hills in love with you since we were first years?! And I swear, if I have to hear one more oh I'm nothin' special, I'll throw some hands, you hear me?! You are amazing! The best possible friend one could ask for, you have the patience of a saint, you're fun to be around, and so much more! What do I have to do to get this to stick in your head?! Use super-glue?! I don't want anyone else! I want you.“

Aran looks completely shocked as tears form in his eyes.

Oh no. Now you've done it.

“Please don't cry cause then I'l cry and this will get even more embarassing.“

He chuckles. “Sorry y/n.“ He takes your hand in his. “I really, really want to be your boyfriend.“

You're the one trying not to sob now. Ah, how the tables have turned, you think and nod. You can hear cheering somewhere in the distance but you couldn't care less. You grab Aran’s jacket and pull him down, crashing his lips to yours. They're soft and warm and you don't want to part from him, ever. He hugs you and you're glad he's holding you so close because right now you couldn't stand on your own. When you part he presses a kiss to your nose and then forehead.

“I love you,“ he whispers.

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship: Chapter 7

Title: Calm Before the Storm Pairing: Paz x f!Reader (finally), mentions of Paz & various characters Word Count: ~10.1k Rating: PG-13 Warnings: References to illness, as well as the fear that someone might hurt themselves (but that’s as heavy as it gets), feelings, Paz With Children

📚 My Master List 📚

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 8 | 9 | 10

❤️❤️❤️ This beautiful moodboard is by the amazing @huliabitch! Thank you so much!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Tags: @hdlynn @ffiiggyy50 @princessbatears @ben-is-a-hoe @oloreaa @andromedanerds @phoenixhalliwell @mandhoelorian @dornish-queen @corrupt-fvcker​ @kazzilla​

[flashback]

Slouching in his chair, Paz stares out at the blue lights zipping by across the windows as they navigate the hyperspace lane. Exhaustion fills him down to the bone, yet he cannot find rest. When they come into range of the communication buoy, he sends a short message ahead to Doctor Shen and asks her to clear the hangar out. She does not ask questions.

In the half hour it takes to get home, Paz gets Zephyr’s things together – he grabs a spare set of clothes and does a quick spot-clean of his armor to get the worst of the filth off. After that, Paz returns to the cockpit and guides the ship into the hangar. The doors are shut and one of the people break off to leave, leaving behind Doctor Shen’s familiar white armor.

He opens the ramp from the cockpit and goes to check on Zephyr. His heart sinks as he steps into the room. The young man is sitting up, arms wrapped loosely around his knees, his glazed-over eyes staring blankly at the far wall. Paz kneels next to the bed, reaching out with a tentative hand. He places it gently onto his shoulder.

“Hey,” Paz says softly. “We’re back.”

Zephyr’s only response is a short nod.

“Doctor Shen is here,” he continues. “I want you to go sit with her for a bit while I deal with all this, alright?”

Another nod. Paz hands him the pile of clothes and sets the armor down next to him. Then he exits, turning the light on and shutting the door to give him privacy. At the bottom of the ladder, he finds Doctor Shen waiting.

“What happened?” Doctor Shen asks urgently.

“Something extremely traumatizing,” Paz says. “I need you to talk to him, just…I need to deal with this. I’m going to set up a cot for him in my room.”

Doctor Shen’s response is cut off by the sound of Zephyr’s feet hitting the top rung of the ladder.

“Hey, vod,” she says. “Let’s head to medical, and we can talk, alright?”

Zephyr turns to look at him. Paz nods encouragingly. Once Zephyr and Doctor Shen have disappeared, he turns his attention to the boxes and promptly decides it can be dealt with later. Right now, he needs to use his hands, to move and to not think. In the main hall, he finds Armorer waiting for him.

“What happened?” she asks as she falls into stride next to him.

“Can we talk somewhere more private?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, of course,” she says.

At his door, Paz types in the code, and lets Armorer in.

“What happened?” Armorer asks.

For the first time in his life, Paz is speechless. He turns to face her and leans his weight against the wall. He had tried to come up with a way to bring it up with Armorer, but now, he has forgotten everything he had wanted to say. He decides to just blurt it out. Well, there is no way to put this delicately, regardless.

“Liam didn’t die on Nevarro. He survived.”

The silence stretches on.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Paz says, his voice just above a whisper.

She understands the unspoken question.

“We never found his body,” Armorer says slowly. “Zeli looked for hours. When she brought back his helmet, I suspected he might have abandoned the Tribe. I did not want Zephyr to try and return to find his buir.”

He lets his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk. One breath in, hold, and let it out slowly. His armor suddenly feels hot and itchy, suffocating him with its weight. His gut twists as he clears the emotion from his throat. Zephyr would have clawed his way back off the ship if he thought there was a chance his buir survived.

“Liam…Liam told us a grenade knocked him out. He said he woke up to a group of bounty hunters taking his helmet off,” Paz says. “He killed them just as Zeli came looking for him.”

“Do you believe he spoke the truth?”

He does not need to consider the veracity of Liam’s claim - deep down, he knows Liam had spoken the truth.

“Yes.”

“He did not abandon the Tribe,” Armorer says. “However, he knew what would happen if he returned. Did he know Zeli would likely be exiled alongside him?”

Paz nods once. He can still see Liam lying on that narrow cot, sick and barely clinging to life. Regret at not having said goodbye to his wife. Self-loathing. Fear. Yet as soon as Zephyr had pressed their foreheads together, it had all dissipated, like a wisp of smoke in a breeze.

“It would not have been just your decision to exile him,” Paz says.

Armorer nods once in confirmation. Like before, it would have been a Tribe vote. Given how high tensions had risen, they would have exiled the two of them on the spot without even thinking it through. Without thinking of the possible ramifications of their decision. Armorer folds her arms under her chest plate, watching him intently. Paz can feel his hands shaking, the adrenaline starting to wear off with the lack of movement.

“Where is Liam now?” she asks, but her tone indicates she knows the answer to that question.

“He was dying when we found him,” Paz says, unable to keep the sorrow from his voice. “He had growths that spread to his vital organs. Beyond what he could afford to pay.”

Armorer nods once more.

“What can I do to help?” she asks.

“Liam hunted until he could not continue,” Paz responds. “We brought his final offering back. I would really appreciate your help in going through it.”

“Of course,” Armorer says. “What about Zephyr?”

“I am getting him set up in the spare room,” Paz says. “I just need to clear it out.”

“I will go get him a cot,” Armorer says. “Do you know his door code?”

“No,” Paz says. “But I can get it from him later.”

Armorer nods and disappears. He starts moving again, losing himself to the repetition of lifting boxes and carrying them into his bedroom, trying to stop himself from thinking. From feeling. When it is completely empty, he takes a moment to breathe. Center himself. Collect his thoughts. Plan the next step.

Be strong for Zephyr, he thinks to himself. Be strong for Tribe. Be strong for those who cannot be.

Paz exits the spare room and glances out at the living space, which doubles as a workspace when he wants to be alone or needs to take his helmet off. Now, as he takes stock of the situation, the cold, harsh reality of the situation seems to sink in. Zephyr has always been such a gentle boy, always feeling deeply, always hurting when others hurt. He is still rash and impulsive, immature in some ways.

He also never had the best coping mechanisms growing up, even with Liam and Zeli’s guidance. He does not think that Zephyr might do something drastic, but Paz refuses to risk it. He unfolds another plastic crate. Balancing it on his hip, he goes from table to table, packing the various blasters and knives away. For the weapons that are still being rebuilt or cleaned, he removes the battery packs. He hides the firing mechanisms in a box and stuffs it behind linens in a cabinet.

In the kitchen, he starts pulling the narrow drawers open, tossing anything sharper than a spoon into the box. From there, he moves to the cabinets over the tiny heating unit. He has a modest collection of alcohol stored away. For a few seconds, he debates on whether to keep it, but then he remembers the bottles littering the clearing near Liam’s home. How many of those were used to self-medicate? To numb himself to the pain? Shaking his head, Paz reaches up and starts emptying the bottles into the sink, even the ones he has never cracked open before.

A tap at the door interrupts him.

“Come in,” he calls out.

Armorer comes in with a bag of linens in her arms. She is followed by Din and Terys. They roll the cot into the spare room and leave without a word. Paz checks the bathroom medkit, but he does not have any painkillers aside from a small packet of aspirin. Paz sends the door code to Zephyr and Doctor Shen, telling them to let themselves in if he is not back by the time they are finished. Once the bedroom door is locked, Armorer accompanies him back to the hangar. They stand in silence for several moments, looking at the boxes filling the cargo bay.

He reaches for the first battered crate and pries the lid off.

“Metal ingots,” Paz says automatically, lifting a bar of crude iron out of the box. “Looks like mostly iron and copper.”

He wheels it out to the main floor. From there, the two of them work quickly, going through the biggest crates first, sorting it into piles for easy moving and storage later. Liam had found several crates worth of raw metal for the Foundry. It was enough to keep their munitions cache stocked for nearly a year. In another crate, they find hard-to-get electrical components. The knives, blasters, ammunition, and explosives are moved off toward the end of the line. He can deal with it later. Much, much later.

They keep the chatter to a minimum as they sort through the smaller crates. It almost seems disrespectful to speak when dealing with a hunter’s final offering to the Tribe. The next few crates are filled with a variety of goods, ranging from rolls of leather to vacuum-sealed bags of spices and dried herbs. They are finally left with two wooden crates, both battered and worn. Paz grabs the crowbar and pries one open. The tool slips out of his fingers and clatters to the floor when he sees the armor within.

The cuirass is badly damaged, the paint worn away in some places and scorched in others. Near the karta bes’kar, the metal has been torn open to reveal the innermost electronic components. The cuisses and bracers are in worse condition. They look like they had been repaired with temporary patches, the silvery marks crisscrossing every surface. He’d been in many fights, all without an armorer to repair his beskar’gam. How had he survived so long?

Underneath the mismatched set of shoulder pieces, he finds Liam’s original right pauldron. It looks nearly pristine, save for the violent gouges where Liam had pried off the clan signet. Finally, at the bottom of the box, Paz finds the clan signet. He reaches for the mangled piece of metal.

“Leave it,” Armorer says, her sharp tone stopping him.

“Armorer?” Paz asks, watching as she reaches into the box. She picks up the signet and runs her thumb along the edge. Then she pockets it with a quiet sigh.

“Liam severed himself from his clan,” Armorer says.

Paz has heard of clans disowning or exiling members, but never the reverse. His gut twists when he considers how desperate Liam must have been to avoid including anyone else in his shame.

“And the rest of his armor?” he dares to ask.

“I will store it with the utmost respect until Zephyr is ready to decide what will be done with it,” Armorer says.

The last box is much smaller, and in even worse condition. Paz almost dreads what he is going to find inside. He lifts the lid and inhales sharply. Row after row of bes’kar ingots glitter up at him in the dull light. He picks one up. No Imp stamp, meaning it came from another source. Third-hand dealer? Battlefield scavengers? Armorer picks up a piece and turns it over in her hands. Then she raps it sharply against her bracer, causing the ingot to sing a familiar, sweet note.

“Pure bes’kar,” she confirms.

Paz picks up one of the heavier bags and opens it. Imperial credits. The next bag contains Calamari Flan. He goes through the satchels, pure ice filling his stomach at the small fortune Liam had sent back. For this kind of money, he had been taking some dangerous bounties, if not outright dealing with spice.

“He could have bought a bacta tank with all this,” Paz says, shaking his head in denial. “Hell, he could have bought ten…”

He trails off Armorer returns the ingot to the crate.

“I think that, in his sorrow, Liam truly believed that his death would redeem him in our eyes,” Armorer says softly. “That this – “ she gestures at the crates neatly organized out in the hangar “ – would make him worthy of our respect. Perhaps, even our forgiveness.”

Paz sits there for a moment, digesting her words. Even when they were young, Liam had always worried about the Tribe. He had always wondered if his offerings were enough to feed them and clothe them. He had always just worried, more than what any sixteen-year-old should have worried in a lifetime.

“I will store the money with Liam’s armor,” she says. “I know Liam said that this is a Tribe offering, but I would like to give Zephyr the opportunity to decide if he will keep a portion for himself.”

As Liam’s only surviving child, Zephyr has the right to keep it all to himself. Paz doubted the young man would want any of the money. He likely would only want his father’s armor, perhaps a bit of the bes’kar to put aside for his own children one day.

With this amount of money coming into the Tribe coffers, Paz knows he should be grateful. They will not need to worry about food or medical supplies for several years at least. Yet, he feels that pang in his chest worsen. Welcoming a Mandalorian warrior back into their ranks would have been a fortune to which no amount of money or bes’kar could ever compare.

If only there had been time, Paz thinks to himself desperately, time for tempers to cool. If only there had been more time.

Looking at the wealth surrounding them, Paz decides he would trade it all away in a heartbeat if it meant Zephyr could spend a few more hours with his buir.

He looks up as Armorer starts to leave.

“Armorer…”

She stops and looks to him.

“Is he…” Paz trails off. She watches. “Would Liam be considered…dar’manda?”

After a few moments, she speaks.

“Even with our strict interpretation of our oaths, we still show leniency to our members,” Armorer says. “Losing ones’ helmet does not make someone dar’manda. It is the willful abandonment of our heritage, our culture, and the Resol’nare that renders one unfit to join in the Manda when we pass on.”

She looks at the crates littering the hangar.

“He gave up everything he knew and loved to ensure his child had a future with us. He hunted to provide for his Tribe to the very end, even when there was no guarantee his offerings would be accepted.”

She lets the silence linger.

“If you are asking my opinion, Paz, then I would not have considered him dar’manda. He helped raise a warrior. He fought like one from the time he donned the helmet until he left us to go march,” Armorer says quietly. “He still had his soul, however much he had disappointed and shamed this Tribe. Would he have been welcomed back here with songs of glory? Certainly not. But with time, I think he could have restored his honor and earned our respect once more.”

Paz nods as an unexpected wave of relief fills him.

“Like many of us, he struggled to adhere to his path. He made terrible mistakes and he tried to rectify them in the only way he knew how – give all he had until the day he had nothing left to give. In the end, Liam was the only person who could decide if he was still a Mandalorian.”

Armorer tilts her head at him. Then she pushes the cart down the ramp. He watches as the little wheels clatter over the uneven seams in the concrete until she disappears. Paz sinks down onto the floor, one knee drawn up toward his chest, the other leg stretched out in front of him. He stares at the floor of the cargo bay, idly cataloguing all the little scraps of detritus that had fallen out of the boxes.

He should be grateful for Liam’s dedication to the hunt. He should be comforted that Liam and Zeli have reunited in the Manda. He should be happy that Zephyr had the opportunity to say goodbye to both his buire. Right now, all he feels is tired and empty, like someone has wrung his entire body out like a wet cloth. Paz lets his head fall back.

No matter how hard he tries to find his inner peace, he cannot stop his thoughts from racing. Is Zephyr okay? Would the kid let him talk to Doctor Shen? Hell, does Zephyr even want to stay with him? Shit. He probably should have asked first. Paz stares at the wall, trying to work up the will to move his body, but the heaviness in his soul weighs him down, threatening to pull him into his despair.

-

-

-

Peering into the hanger, you see that Paz is still sitting on the floor, his bulky blue armor barely visible from here. You don’t know what’s going on, but you know for a fact that the crates he has brought back are not the food and the medical supplies the Tribe is in need of. The others are bunched up behind you, clearly worried for him, so you turn to face them.

“I’ll go talk to him,” you say, volunteering yourself.

“He needs a stiff drink,” someone says. “I got a stash.”

“You di’kut,” you snap at him. “You know he doesn’t drink to cope. Maker, he needs someone with at least half-a-braincell.”

“Hey, it was just a suggestion, Shu’shika.”

“You all go make yourselves useful somewhere else. I hear that Hannah needs help with the kids.”

Predictably, the rest of the Tribe scatters like cockroaches, all hoping to avoid being voluntold into childcare duties. Shaking your head, you turn back to Paz. You gather your wits about yourself and edge into the hangar. Though you know he will not miss your approach, you make sure he can hear you coming. It isn’t until you kneel on the ground next to him that he looks up at you.

“Hey,” he says.

“What do you need?” you ask quietly.

His head falls back against the wall. In that moment, he looks like he has been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Surreptitiously, you glance over his armor and kute. Both are pristine. So Zephyr’s sorrow is not due to seeing combat on his first hunt. Something else had caused the two men this tremendous pain.

“Zephyr’s in medical,” Paz says tiredly.

“There is no force in this galaxy that could get between Doctor Shen and Zephyr,” you say gently. “I’m asking what you need, Paz. How can I help you?”

He looks up.

“Me?” he asks, almost sounding confused.

“Yes, you,” you repeat. “How can I help you bear the burden you carry right now?”

“I…” He trails off. “I don’t know.”

A wry smile crosses your lips, though he cannot see it.

“People don’t ask you that often, do they, hunter?” you whisper to him, your heart breaking cleanly in half for the warrior in front of you.

You wonder if anyone has ever shown him their appreciation for the difficult job he does. Does he view hunting as something he should not be thanked for? That it is something that he is expected to do, without consideration of his needs? How long has it been since anyone last helped him bear his burdens? Your throat tightens. You have been complicit in this – you have not shown him your kindness, nor your appreciation for what he does to care for the Tribe. Your heart burns with regret and sorrow.

You have called this man family, yet you have not taken the time to take care of him.

“No,” Paz says, at long last. “They don’t.” After several long moments, he continues, his voice heavy as lead in your ears. “It isn’t my place…to tell you what happened.”

You make a solemn vow to make sure no one else in this Tribe will ever be so woefully unappreciated again.

“Then tell me this, Paz. How do you feel right now?”

He lets out a mirthless huff of amusement.

“I haven’t failed this miserably at a hunt in almost twenty years.”

You tilt your helmet and frown.

“Was it a failure?”

“I set out for food and medical supplies,” Paz says tiredly. “I came back with none of it. I failed to provide for my Tribe.”

Ah, you think to yourself, that’s what is bothering him. Well, one of the things that are bothering him, at least. You gather your courage. You might have only known him for a few months now, but you have always secretly admired him. His strength. His dedication.

“Paz, do you really think that bringing back the wrong items means you have somehow failed us?” you ask quietly. Before he can answer, you dare to slip your own small hands around his, sandwiching his massive palm between yours. “You are so much more than just a hunter to us.”

He looks down at your hands. For a brief moment, you think he might tell you to let go, but he does not. Instead, his fingers tighten around yours. You have seen how strong those hands are, how easily he handles that massive cannon of his, yet he squeezes you with a gentility that makes your cheeks heat up.

“I know we’ve been Tribe for only a few months now, but in that time, you’ve made yourself our family,” you continue. “From day one, you looked after our children the same way you look after your own. You saw one child shiver in the cold classroom, and that was all it took for you to start waking up early enough to go turn environmental controls on.”

Paz tilts his helmet down, almost…shyly?

“Caring for the children is my job,” he says, his voice a bit gruff.

“By day four, you had every single one of our kids following at your heels,” you say in a faintly teasing tone. When his head tilted down further, you dared to continue, relishing in the warrior’s sweet embarrassment. “Gazing up at you in wide-eyed wonder, begging you to play with them.”

“They’ll do anything for sweets,” Paz muttered. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“Do you think so?” you ask. “You sat your shebs on the floor, let them all pile in around you, and taught them how to tie knots. In all those cables you spent hours organizing.”

“Learning is how a Tribe grows strong,” he counters stubbornly. “It’s my job.”

“On your next hunt, you went and picked out a small toy for each one,” you remind. “It took you so long to pick them out that you missed your return deadline by six hours. Is that part of your job?”

He sighs grumpily. A puff of laughter escapes you in response. He knows he has been caught. You forge on bravely, hoping that he will not think poorly of you for sitting here and spilling your innermost thoughts out to him. But he needs to hear it, you think.

His Tribe came from such dire straits. You do not know much of what they had gone through. Paz had not been forthcoming. All Dezha would say was that the rest of his Tribe was gone, with no presumed survivors. It was no wonder that Paz felt like he had to be responsible for every little thing. In a way, he kind of had been. He had been his peoples’ source of stability and strength, putting aside his own needs and wants to ensure the most precious members of his Tribe could thrive.

“No matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise, you are a respected and trusted figure of authority here. You are a leader, Paz. A teacher and caretaker.” You swallow. “You are dedicated to providing for each and every last person here, but you never ask for anything in return. We basically have to harass you until you tell us what you need. What you want.” He does not look up, nor does he refute your statement. He knows it is true. “We all do our part to ensure we remain strong, but you go above and beyond what is asked of you every single time. No matter what we ask of you, you give us everything you have. And I don’t think you have gotten the same back from us.

He stays quiet as he looks down at your entwined hands.

“That isn’t fair to you,” you whisper.

Then his strong fingers curl a little tighter around yours, sending heat shooting into your cheeks and making your breath hitch a little. Maker, you truly hope he did not hear that. How could holding someone’s hand make you so nervous?

“S-so please don’t ever think you are not doing enough for us, Paz,” you continue, stammering slightly. “Even if…even if we aren’t the best at showing you our gratitude…you are a trusted and cherished member of this Tribe. We care deeply for you.”

“You don’t need to show me your gratitude,” he says a bit gruffly. “This is my job, Shu’shika. Do yours the best you can. And that’ll be enough for me. For all of us.”

He still hasn’t let go of you.

“You do not need to bear this burden alone,” you say. “Let us help you. Let us take care of you, the same way you take care of us. I will – we will always be here to support you, Paz. That is what we do as a Tribe and as a family.”

“Once I can get this taken care of,” he says, gesturing at the piles of crates, “I just…I just need some sleep.”

“I can handle getting everything where it needs to go,” you say, volunteering yourself immediately.

“Can you handle those idiots?” Paz asks, tilting his head toward the doorway. “On a good day, I have to threaten to shoot them a few times before they will listen.”

“They probably enjoy threats of violence,” you say. “I have something more creative in mind.”

Paz lets out a huff of amusement, a low, rich noise that makes you grateful for the helmet on your head, hiding the way you are biting your lip and blushing cherry red.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Regrettably, you let go of his hand and climb to your feet. You lead the way out and make your way to the group of hunters loitering in the hangar. When you draw abreast of the group, you take a few moments to decide which hunter is best suited for which job.

“Terys, I need you to take the munitions to the Armory, please,” you say calmly, watching as his head turns down in your direction. For a brief moment, you wonder if he is going to give you sass, but in the end, he nods.

“Aye, Shu’shika,” he says, going toward the boxes at the end.

“Revala, would you please move the raw ores to the Foundry?” you ask.

“Aye,” she says. She goes off for the cart in the corner.

Your good luck ends there, unfortunately, and some of the others start to file out, clearly ready to ignore your requests.

“Neten, Lyras, I think that the two of you can handle the supplies going to the kitchen,” you say. “Hannah will need some help getting the heavier items moved onto the shelves.”

Lyras comes forward, but Neten turns away.

“Neten, come on,” Lyras says. “We have a job to do.”

“She doesn’t tell me what to do,” Neten scoffs.

All heads turn in your direction at the challenge issued by the much larger hunter.

“Neten, you do not have to do what I ask you to do,” you say calmly. “But let me remind you that I schedule childcare duties around here. If you choose to not help here, your ample amounts of free time will be spent in the nursery for the foreseeable future.”

Neten stares at you, clearly in shock at your threats. You really are not in the mood to fight right now, so you keep your posture as nonconfrontational as possible. Not only that, you’ve managed to leave your knife in your room again, so you have no weapons on your person. Neten then looks at Paz.

“She can’t do that,” Neten says to Paz. “Right? She can’t just decide – “

In that instant, Paz growls and his posture changes, making him look twice as big as he stalks forward. Even though Paz is only a few centimeters taller than Neten, he seems to loom over him, advancing with slow menacing steps until Neten shrinks back into the wall.

“Imagine the hell your life will become if Alor and Armorer find out you are refusing to do your assigned duties,” Paz growls quietly.

Neten decides to try his luck.

“But she has no authority over me,” Neten says, squaring his shoulders and giving you what you assume is a glare. “She can’t tell me what to do – “

Paz lifts his hand and places it on the wall right next to Neten’s audial, leaning in closer. Neten shrinks back against the wall.

“Well, guess what, Neten. I have decided that Shu’shika oversees you from now on. If she tells you to jump, you will do so, and then you will thank her for the privilege,” Paz says, in a soft, silky voice that makes your knees tremble. When Neten splutters indignantly, Paz jabs one finger into his chest plate, silencing his retorts. He continues in a heavy growl, “Do not test me again.”

Wisely, Neten turns his head down in a clear show of his submission. Paz lingers for another second to ensure Neten knows his place. Then Paz backs up a step, and the tension in the room dissipates entirely. In theory, you have always known that Paz’s position as Alor’ad means that he must have ironclad control over the hunters to keep them in line. Up until now, he has never had to prove that he has the biggest brass set in the room, so to speak.

Paz stares at Neten expectantly.

“I will do as I am told,” Neten says grumpily.

“You will do as Shu’shika tells you to do,” Paz corrects.

“I will do as Shu’shika tells me to do,” he repeats, though it sounds positively painful for him to repeat.

“Thank you,” you say politely.

“If any of these idiots so much as breathe in a way that offends you, let me know,” Paz says to you, ensuring everyone can hear him. He stares the crowd down for another moment, “I will come deal with the problem.”

No one dares to move. After a few seconds, Paz stomps off, clearly annoyed. As you watch after him, you realize the hunters are waiting for their orders, so you quickly finish assigning everything as fairly as you can.

For your duties, you grab some cleaning supplies and head into the Desert Lark to begin tidying up. It is not necessary, but you really would like to make things a little easier for Paz. You have a strong suspicion that Paz is going to go back out on a hunt. Given how strongly he believes his worth to the Tribe is tied to his offerings, you are surprised he is not already trying to refuel. Well, the least you can do for him is make it a little easier for him.

After a little subtle snooping, you find that Paz has been held up in medical for some reason or another. You know it has something to do with Zephyr. Your buir always said that every Mandalorian needs to take some time to themselves after enduring something stressful. Some go shooting. Others spar. Others yet meditate. You are not sure which of those would most likely appeal to Paz, but you do know he will neglect his needs to look after Zephyr. Veering off course, you go straight to the kitchen. It is closed for the night, but you figure Hannah won’t mind terribly if you reopen for Zephyr.

You put together a small but nourishing meal for him – a clear broth, hot and lightly spiced, with buttered bread and some pickled vegetables. You make sure to add some cookies from your secret stash of snacks so he can have something sweet to nibble on. For Paz, you grab some standard rations. As much as you would like to make something special for him, you get the feeling he would prefer as much normalcy in his routine as possible so he could focus on Zephyr.

Zephyr had that listless, almost catatonic quality to him, as if Doctor Shen’s hand at his elbow was the only thing keeping him upright. He has always been such a sweet and gentle young man, someone who has always hesitated to bring harm to another, even during sparring. Even though he tries to avoid babysitting duties as much as he can, he does make up for it by doing other chores around the place. Something has hurt him very deeply, and your heart aches for him. When everything is packed away, you send Paz a brief message asking if you can bring some food for the two of them. He agrees and meets you at the door. You hand the bag over to him.

“Thanks,” he says.

“If you or Zeph need anything else, we are here,” you say quietly. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out, vod.”

He glances back over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he says, looking back at you. “I will keep that in mind.”

You nod once and turn back down the hallway, your thoughts slipping away from you. The next morning, you find a small box at your workstation. Frowning to yourself, you pick it up and open it. Inside, nestled in a ragged piece of burlap, you find a tiny carved loth-cat, barely bigger than a strawberry.

There is no note included, but you know it is from Paz. He is the only person who would ever go out of their way to find something so small and beautiful for someone he barely knows. Smiling to yourself, you put the tiny cat back into the protective box. You didn’t even know Paz had been paying attention while you were talking about how much you wanted a pet loth-cat.

Then you nestle the box into your pocket, a strange feeling taking root in you.

[End Flashback]

-

-

-

[Current]

Once your work for the day is complete, you check the time and find you have several hours before dinner. Normally, you would go see what other chores are available to you, but today, you consider doing something else instead. Something self-indulgent. Gnawing on your lower lip, you nervously put your tools away, sorting them into the right boxes and trays. Could you really skip helping the others, just so you can go see Paz? As you close the lid to your toolbox, you happen to look up. You jump a little when you see Armorer standing there.

“Armorer,” you say. “How can I help you?”

“I noticed you had marked your work for the day complete,” Armorer says. “I wanted to ask what plans you had for this evening.”

Ah, she needs help with something. Oh well, you think to yourself. It was a silly thing to think that you could skip for the day to go sneak in a few minutes with Paz. It had been a selfish thing to consider. Though, you do wonder how she had gotten here so quickly.

“I did not plan for anything tonight,” you respond. “Do you need something specific?” You are already reaching for your toolbox, but she cuts you off.

“Dezha was supposed to be helping Paz with the children,” Armorer says in a casual tone. “However, I need his help elsewhere. The children have been unusually unruly this week, and with Paz’s injury…” She trails off deliberately. “Would you be willing to help him?”

“Of course,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth without hesitation. “I would be happy to help. Are we doing language lessons today?”

“No, no specific lessons today,” Armorer says. “We just need the children kept out of the way while the rest of us clean up the hangar.”

“The hangar?” you ask in confusion. “What happened - ?”

“Do not concern yourself with that,” Armorer says in a soothing tone. “Will you please help Paz?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you say, nodding. “I’ll head to the nursery now.”

“Excellent,” Armorer purrs. “I will walk you there.”

The walk to the nursery is a short one. It is past the normal work hours, yet you see no one else lingering in the hallways. Home is strangely empty. It almost unsettles you. Armorer keeps you moving at a brisk pace before she finally directs you into the nursery, physically blocking the doorway behind you. Paz is not wearing his armor – only his suit and padding – while he carries a child under each arm. It looks like he is in the middle of reenacting some science fiction scene in the middle of the toys, one foot poised over a pile of toppled blocks.

“Hey,” Paz says, as he sets the two children down. “What can I help you two with?”

“I need Dezha’s assistance with something,” Armorer says. “I brought Shu’shika as your backup.”

“Shushi!” Ola shrieks, throwing down a wad of wrinkled paper.

The little girl comes barreling over and throws herself at your legs. Immediately, you scoop her up onto your hip and tweak her nose. She has a rainbow of marker ink smears all over her face and arms. As you look at the other children, you see they are in a similar state, and you find yourself hoping that Paz had given them the water soluble markers to draw with.

“Ba’vodu!” Ellyn whines from the floor, “I want to play hunter and prey, please!”

“Sure,” Paz says.

“But your knee, Paz,” you say, coming forward a step.

“That little burn could barely be called an injury,” Paz scoffs. “Bacta took care of it in a few hours.”

Before you can think further on Armorer’s reference to his injury, Ellyn covers her eyes and starts to count. The other children scatter like leaves on the wind, scampering into their hiding spots. Paz looks around. Then at you. He comes to stand behind you. You give him an incredulous look over your shoulder. Tem comes skittering over and climbs up Paz’s leg. He scoops the child up against his chest and holds one finger up in front of his modulator as he sort of crouches behind you.

“Shh!”

You sigh quietly and stand there while Ellyn finishes counting. You are pretty sure there’s more of Paz hanging out from behind you than you actually cover up, considering how much larger he is.

Ellyn gets up and sprints to the other side of the room. She hits the timer and starts to race around the room, ripping the cushions off the couch and turning boxes over. The blood drains from your face as the already messy room becomes an actual disaster. From behind you, you can hear Tem and Paz snickering to themselves. You watch in fascinated horror as Ellyn finds all the children except for Tem and Paz. At this point, you think Paz has cemented himself as an oversized child.

“Tem!” Ellyn shouts. “Ba’vodu Paz! Where are you?”

At that moment, the timer goes off, and Ellyn lets out a noise of frustration. She kicks a stuffed animal out of her way. Paz steps out from behind you. When Ellyn sees them, her big brown eyes go wide with surprise. Then she lets out a scream of frustration.

That’s enough to set Paz and Tem off in a fit of hysterics.

“CHEATER!” Ellyn screams.

“We did not cheat,” Paz counters through his guffaws. “We hid behind Shu’shika.”

“But you can’t do that!” Ellyn wails.

Her lower lip wobbles and she goes off to sulk. Paz sets Tem down and he goes off to the pile of stuffed animals in the corner. You gingerly step through the piles of toys, still incredulous that the child had not noticed Paz hiding behind you. Well, she had probably focused on everything at eye level. And Paz…well, he is well above eye-level for most people in the Tribe.

As you are trying in vain to put some of the toys back where they belong, one of the toddlers comes forward on unsteady legs, holding a book up at you. Taking it, you find that it’s covered in something wet and sticky. When he wipes his nose with the back of his hand, you realize your fingers are covered in snot. A shudder of revulsion creeps up your spine.

“How about a story?” Paz asks the room at large, coming to your rescue.

“Let’s clean up,” you say, “Then we can all sit on the floor together.”

You quickly hand Paz the book and wipe the snot off your hand onto your pants.

“Clean up! Clean up!” Ellyn chants, rolling onto her knees. “Let’s clean up, everybody!”

The other children join in on the chant, organizing the piles of toys into their proper storage containers. You only have to corral the toddlers toward the right boxes a few times, while Paz gathers the drawings into a neat stack. From there, you settle into the chaos quickly. At times, it feels like the children are making a bigger mess than the one they are trying to clean up.

Surreptitiously, you watch Paz. You cannot help but to notice how good he is with the children. His voice is always gentle and patient. When they tackle him for a Paz Pile, he indulges them, playing for a few moments before redirecting them to the monumental task of cleaning up the playroom. The same snot-covered toddler picks up a toy ship and pats Paz on the leg. He crouches and wraps both hands around the boy’s waist.

“Alright, vod’ika,” Paz says gently. “Let’s jump up really high and put the toy away, alright?”

“Ba’vodu!” the boy squeals.

Paz lifts and the boy shrieks in delight. As soon as the others see what Ba’vodu Paz is up to, they go running over with their own toys, clamoring for their turn. Ola is halfway up Paz’s leg by the time you go to offer backup. Slowly, but surely, the room is tidied up and readied for tomorrow. Then Paz takes the book back to the seat. Ola scrambles out of his way before he sinks down.

Paz starts to read, his voice low and soothing. The story is about a beggar and a merchant. You don’t recall the exact plot points, but you do know the moral of the story is to always be kind to those in need. While Paz keeps the children entertained, you go gather up the last few toys and put them away.

Then you grab the broom and start sweeping up the crumpled tissues and candy wrappers. You purse your lips at the amount of candy he had fed them. Ah, well. If strille could be trained with positive reinforcement, so could children. As Paz gets further into the story, the littlest ones start to drift off, and you carefully nestle them onto the sleeping mats.

Ola’s buire are the first to come back for her. She presses her forehead against Paz’s shoulder as she yawns into her fist. Then she pats you on the knee as she stumbles to her parents. She is quickly scooped up and carried away. One by one, or sometimes in twos, the children go home with their parents, until you and Paz are standing alone in the empty nursery. Paz marks his place with a bookmark and puts it away. Then he gets up and stretches out a bit.

“Looks like we’re done with our assigned childcare for tonight,” Paz says. “Thank the Maker.”

“Yes,” you say, almost stammering. “Uh. Childcare.”

He tilts his helmet inquisitively, clearly having picked up on your anxiety. Before you can stop yourself, you speak up.

“Paz, what are you doing tonight?” you ask.

“I don’t have plans,” he says. “Why do you ask?”

“Want to ditch evening chores?”

“You want to ditch evening duties?” he asks, tilting his head the other way. “Shu’shika, people will accuse me of corrupting you.”

You laugh in response.

“I’ve done my fair share of double duties for at least ten years,” you respond. “How about it, Paz? Want to be irresponsible with me?”

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s go before anyone gets any ideas.”

The two of you go to the door. You peer down both ends of the hallway. Near the hangar, you can see people streaming loitering. One of them looks up and immediately turns around, grabbing a box. Weird.

“Okay,” you say to Paz, “Looks like they’re still working in the hangar.”

His hand settles at your waist as he peers down the hallway over your head. When the last person enters the hangar, you grab his hand and pull, leading him away from the others.

“Come on, let’s go,” you whisper to him.

You lead him away from the rest of the Tribe, muffling your laughter, sneaking from shadow to shadow like an oversized pair of misbehaving teenagers. At the main entrance, you find your plans to go pick berries thwarted by an incoming thunderstorm. You let out a noise of disappointment. Paz joins you outside as the wind picks up, the trees dancing and swaying as the pit-pat of rain grows louder. When you shiver, Paz’s hand settles at your waist, and he pulls you closer to him.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck inside,” you sigh to Paz, curling your face toward his shoulder, his torso blocking the worst of the cold.

“We can watch from here,” Paz says.

The first crack of lightning makes you jump, and as if the skies had been waiting for that exact moment, the rain begins to pour down in sheets. You can feel Paz tilt his head down to look at you. Rather than tease you, he runs his fingers against your back comfortingly. That is all it takes for you to melt against your warrior, eyes drifting shut as you dare to wrap your arm around his muscular waist.

When his other arm wraps itself around you, enclosing you in his tender embrace, you surrender immediately, offering no resistance to him. You can no longer deny what your heart has been screaming at you. You love Paz Vizsla. You’ve been in love with him for Maker-only-knows-how-long. As you listen to the steady thumping of his heart, you feel giddy and lightheaded, almost as if you are drunk on his touch alone. Then, his hand rises from your waist, his fingers settling at your jaw, making your breath hitch in your throat. Paz tilts your face up toward his gently. You rise onto your tip-toes to close gap, anticipation making your stomach flutter.

When only a handspan separates you from Paz, you think there could not have been a more perfect moment for this to happen, for you to finally kiss your warrior –

Then, suddenly, the door slams open, bathing the two of you in harsh, bright light. You and Paz freeze in place as the speaker starts to come outside.

“ – figure out how to make it look like there was actually a spill,” Din says, as he steps through the doorway.

When Din notices the intimate embrace you and Paz are sharing, he freezes, one foot in the air, and lets out a noise of pure despair. Dezha peers out after him and he inhales audibly. He grabs Din by the backplate and yanks him back, shutting the door behind them, but the damage has been done.

The warm pleasure that had once filled you is now gone, replaced with the mortification at having been caught in such a compromising position. Your buir would be so disappointed that you were sneaking off with someone and then being stupid enough to get caught trying to rub helmets with him. Your stomach drops straight through your feet. What if that had been Armorer?

“Shu’shika,” Paz says, in that low rumble of his, his hand falling to your waist once more, his intentions clear as day to you.

“What if that had been one of the children?” you ask softly. “What sort of example would we be setting for them?”

He tilts his head in confusion. Keldabe kisses are one of the few ways Mandalorians can show love and affection for each other.

“Paz, I can’t,” you say in a rush, “Not until we’re marr – I mean, not unless – “

You fall silent and exhale in frustration. You take a full step back, regretfully leaving that warm, wonderful place against him that smelled like leather and something woodsy.

“Paz, for my family…it’s not,” you stammer out.

“I will respect the boundaries you set for our relationship,” he says gently. “You do not have to explain anything to me.”

Our relationship? His words make your knees wobble dangerously. You take a deep, calming breath.

“I know I don’t have to, but I would like for you to know,” you say softly. “My family is conservative, Paz. Helmets only come off after the vows are exchanged. Touching each other the way we were…it is…generally discouraged.”

You swallow. Your refusal to engage in a lot of physical acts has made it difficult to find a partner. You hope Paz is willing to wait, but you do not blame him if he wants to move on.

“I know we are both adults, but I…I truly feel something for you, Paz. And I do not want you to be in a position where I might give you the wrong idea,” you stutter out, face flaming with heat. “For my tribe of origin, it’s…considered inappropriate. Not without stating my intentions.”

“…and what are your intentions toward me?” he whispers.

“Paz, I…I cannot give you my body without also giving you my heart,” you whisper, so softly you wonder if he can hear you. “I-I…I would want something permanent between us. Before any of that happens.”

He thinks for a moment.

“Would…Would it be alright if I called you cyar’ika?”

“Y-yes,” you whisper, hardly daring to believe that Paz wants to call you his cyar’ika after what you just told him.

“There’s something I would like to tell you,” he says. “Something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now.”

You nod to encourage him, and he clears his throat, looking away nervously.

“I’m not good with words. I’ve already forgotten half of what I wanted to tell you.”

You laugh a bit breathlessly.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper back. “Speak from your heart, Paz, and you will tell me what I need to hear.”

“I…I ah…feel something for you too,” he says. “For months now, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, all the effort you put into supporting the Tribe.” He clears his throat again, looking away shyly. “I can’t stop thinking about all the tiny things you do for me. The number of times you have stayed up to wait for me to return from a hunt. In case I need help. So, I won’t be alone another night. I have never had the privilege of having someone like you covering my shebs…and for so long, I did not see your devotion to me, the way you show me your affection each and every day.”

He swallows and reaches up with trembling fingers. A wave of tears escapes you as you tilt your face into his touch. Maker, you are falling apart at the seams. If he keeps going like this, you are not going to last long enough for him to get to what he is trying to tell you. His thumb brushes against the curve of your cheek plate, brushing away the tears he seems to know are coursing hot tracks down your cheeks.

“For years now, I’ve been holding off, waiting for the right time, waiting for the right person,” Paz says quietly. “Someone who will make me strong where I am weak. Someone who will allow me to be their strength where they are weak. Someone who will be my equal, here at home and when we hunt. Someone who will help me raise our future warriors.”

Your heart starts to pound so hard you fear Paz will be able to hear it hammering up against your ribs. Then your throat tightens up and you cannot hold the cascade of tears back any longer. They fall freely now. You just barely manage to turn off your modulator in time to hide your choked whimpers, equal measures of fear and hope filling you. Fear that he will turn you down, reject you for your decision to abstain from a physical relationship. Hope that he has come to see you for who you are. Hope that he understands. Hope that he will still want to share his life with you.

“May I hold your hand?” Paz whispers.

You place your shaking hand in his without hesitation, a choked sob escaping you, one that you know he registers. He looks down, staring at your tiny hand in his. His fingers enclose yours firmly, gently. Reverently. He clears his throat.

“When we are together, you fill me with such overwhelming joy and peace. For the first time in my life, I finally feel whole, like you’ve filled a void in my heart that I never even knew was there,” he whispers. “I can’t stop thinking about the loss that consumes me when we are apart. There are times when I am on a hunt and I cannot even sleep because I miss you so much. Every second we are parted, I long to return to your side.”

You nod vigorously, still trying to stifle the stubborn tears coursing down your face. He continues, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

“You have always been the beacon of light that guides me home through the storm, cyar’ika,” he says. He places the flat of your palm against the karta bes’kar embedded in his armor. “One day, I would like to be the same to you.”

With those words, you promptly lose whatever tenuous control you had over your emotional state. You start to sob as you place your free hand over his, and draw closer, pressing your forehead against his chest plate. He draws you into a tentative hug, resting his chin atop your head. As you nestle into that safe place in his arms, you come to a realization that steals the breath from your lungs.

This is where you feel respected, cherished, and loved.

This is where you will raise your future warriors together, as equals.

Here, in his arms, you have finally found your home.

“Cyar’ika, I have always intended for this to be a permanent relationship,” Paz says. “I’ve been talking to Armorer about asking you to accept me in courtship, so I can do this the right way for you. So, I can give you a relationship that honors the paths we have both sworn to walk.”

You sniffle and nod, struggling to stifle your tears long enough to speak. At this point, you don’t care if he knows you are crying – there’s no way you can hide the shaking of your shoulders. Maker, who knew that Paz had such a way with words? You’ve known him for years now, yet you have only now just glimpsed the passion he’s kept locked up so deeply inside himself, hidden from everyone but you. And Maker, you want to feel every bit of the passion he has for you.

There had been just one other before Paz, someone you had loved with all your heart and soul. They had promised themselves to you, promised to wait until it was time to marry, and you had accepted their promise. Within weeks, they were pressuring you for more and more, attempting to convince you to turn away from the promise you made to yourself when you were sixteen. You have always wanted to find love with someone who loved you for your adherence to your faith, for your skills, and for who you are. Someone who would respect your desire to limit physical touch to only kissing, out of respect for your tribe of origin. They had promised you all of that, but it was a lie.

When they had pulled you in for a kiss, you resisted, yet they had forced it on you, their hands falling to grope you. You had ended the relationship on the spot. That unwanted touch had been a blatant violation of your trust in them and their promise to you. It had hurt to lose them, but they had made the choice to violate your boundaries and make you feel unsafe and unloved.

You truly love Paz, in that way that makes you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You are older now, more capable of seeing those warning flags that you had not recognized as a young girl. Paz has only ever been respectful and considerate, not a single inappropriate word or gesture escaping him. He has only ever treated you like an equal. Your heart swells with your love for this man, to the point where you feel you are going to burst with joy.

Now, you find yourself aching and wanting for this man so intensely that it frightens you. And that is why you know you have to hold back – right now, you aren’t sure you have the willpower to stop yourself from giving your kind, gentle warrior anything he might ask you for.

Hearing the way he speaks to you, the gentle tone, the way he asks for your permission to hold your hand and to call you his cyar’ika…you know he will respect you. That he will not ask you for what you cannot give him right now. That he will wait as long as you need.

“Cyar’ika,” he says softly.

You turn your modulator back on.

“Yes, Paz?” you whisper hoarsely.

“Would you…would you be willing…to talk to the Elders?”

“Paz, my answer is yes,” you say. “I will accept courtship with you.”

“You have made me a very happy man, cyar’ika,” he says. “May I give you something?”

Nodding, you take a half step back and sniffle back the tears that spring to your eyes once more. You watch as Paz reaches into his pocket and withdraws something flat and small, pressing it into your hands. As you unwrap it, he speaks, and your face drains when you recognize what he is giving you – his clan signet – and not the one any regular member of the clan would wear. This one is intricately detailed, hand-carved by a master craftsman.

“I know this isn’t a blade, but I just can’t wait any longer, I want to give you something special to me,” he says shyly. “If you are willing, I would like you to become lady of Clan Vizsla. You don’t have to answer right now. Please just think about it, I just…I just want you to have that.”

As you stare down at the signet in your hands, it suddenly feels heavier, and you realize the responsibilities you will have to shoulder if you accept his request. You will be more than his riduur – you will act in his stead when he is away. You will guide the newlyweds in their journeys together. You will be there for the birth of each child to tend to the new buire. You will teach, you will negotiate, and if need be, you will wage war on his behalf. As you look, he shifts nervously again, clearly waiting for you to say something. Swallowing, you square your shoulders and take a deep breath. Looking up at your beloved, you do your best to keep your voice steady. With Paz by your side, there is nothing you cannot accomplish. You will succeed, so long as you have him with you.

“It would be my greatest honor to one day join your clan,” you stutter out, your voice shaking. “As both your wife and lady of the house, I will serve our family with pride and humility.”

Paz exhales shakily, as if he had been holding his breath. You lean in and give him a gentle hug. Paz returns it. The two of you linger for a few minutes before finally parting. You wrap the signet in the cloth and tuck it into the pouch where you keep your tools. Squeezing his hand, you look up at him, giddiness filling you at the thought of standing by his side.

-

-

-

[Bonus Scene]

Din sinks against the wall, pressing his hands into his bucket.

“We worked so hard to get this to happen,” Din groans, “We worked so kriffing hard for this and I fucked it up – “

“Calm down,” Dezha responds. “They haven’t come back inside yet, so that means they’re still talking. There is still hope – “

“What if he was proposing?” Din hisses at Dezha. “What if I fucked up my only brother’s proposal – “

“You said he wants a proper courtship, did you not?” Din snaps.

“Well, yeah,” Din says.

“So, he has to ask if she’s willing to accept courtship before he can ask her to marry him,” Dezha retorts. “You didn’t ruin anything. Calm down. He was probably just kissing her.”

“He said he wouldn’t do anything against the rules,” Din retorts.

“Oh, right,” Dezha says. “Let’s get going before someone comes to investigate. We do not want to spread gossip – “

“Ooh, is Paz kissing Shu’shika?” Jalyn asks in a sing-song tone from the hallway. Then mischievously, “Or is Shu’shika the one kissing Paz, hmm?”

“Jalyn, I will break every bone in your body if you spread lies,” Dezha hisses at him.

“So, no kisses yet?” Jalyn asks. “How much longer are they going to make us wait?”

“Make us wait?” Din asks incredulously.

“I have been getting my offering for the wedding feast ready for a year now,” Jalyn says, turning his nose up haughtily, “My gift will be one they cherish for decades to come.”

“Oh fuck,” Din says, “I need to get a gift – “

“Calm down,” Dezha says. “We are not going to scare either of them from – “

“Ooh, are we talking gifts?” Revala asks from the doorway. “I bought the most beautiful set of baby onesies a few months ago – “

“They aren’t even married yet,” Dezha says incredulously, “They may only wish to bring foundlings into their family – “

“Please,” Revala scoffs, “Have you seen how broody Paz gets around the babies? If that man could carry an infant, I have no doubts we’d be up to our armpits in Vizsla brats.”

“Okay, let’s have this discussion elsewhere,” Dezha says. “If they come back in and find us here, they’ll know we set them up.”

“Paz already suspects we’re trying to help things along,” Din says. “We need to tone it back before he gets mad at us.”

“Listen, we have been dying for a proper wedding,” Jalyn chimes in. “If he proposes tonight, I think Hannah could have the feast ready by tomorrow morning.”

“GET OUT,” Dezha roars, finally losing his patience. “Give them privacy, for kriff’s sake!”

“I wonder if Shu’shika will finally let him have a kiss,” Jalyn muses, as he heads toward the door.

“Jalyn, I will make your life miserable if you tease her,” Dezha warns.

“A little teasing – “ Jalyn begins.

Dezha advances, pressing one finger into the karta bes’kar on Jalyn’s breast plate.

“Do you know what an accordion is, Jalyn?”

“The…the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Jalyn asks, voice tiny with terror.

“Do you?” Dezha hisses.

“Yes,” Jalyn says. “It is a musical instrument from the Far Reaches – “

“Alright,” Dezha says. “If you do anything to make Shu’shika uncomfortable, I will cram one fist down your throat, the other up your arse, and play you like a fucking accordion. Are we clear, shabuir?”

Jalyn’s mouth moves, but no sound comes out. He eventually gathers his senses and nods. Dezha points down the hallway and they move away.

-

-

- Di’kut - idiot Buir(e) - parent(s) Resol’nare - 6 tenets of Mandalorian tradition Dar’manda - a state of being soulless, something that traditional Mandalorians fear greatly Riduur - spouse Bes’kar - Mandalorian steel Beskar’gam - Armor Shabuir - jerk, but really strong, not a nice word Shebs - rear Cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart Karta bes’kar - the indentation in the chest plate, lit. iron heart

[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Twenty Three - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Marinette didn’t sleep that night. Neither did Damian. She had spent the night in his arms, doing her best to not break down. Cloud had been there too, offering her hugs to comfort her. The dog had gotten so much bigger now, almost bigger than her own small frame, and fluffier than ever.

Having both her boyfriend and Cloud to hug helped her a big deal.

Damian made sure to make her talk about small things to distract her. They watched movies, and Dick joined them, worried about his future sister-in-law.

Marinette and Dick ended up singing along the characters when they watched Mamma mia, while Damian watched from the couch, obviously wondering what he was doing there.

But the Eurasian girl was a bit happier than she was the night before, so it was a win for the youngest Wayne. He knew it wouldn’t last, but at least, Hawkmoth didn’t get to take advantage of her emotional state.

They all fell asleep on the couch in the early morning.

Marinette didn’t have the strength to face Plagg for a whole week. It was only after a day at school when she talked to Adrien for the first time since he gave the ring up, that she decided it was time to have a talk with Plagg.

Adrien had seemed happy when she talked to him. She didn’t know if genuinely was happy or if he was really good at faking it, but he had an entire conversation with her with a smile on his face.

It was like he was a different person than he was a week ago when he had his existential crisis over his father being his enemy.

So, when she went home after meeting with Chloé for their group project, she put the ring on, its aspect changing automatically to her own taste, and Plagg appeared in front of her, a sad smile on his tiny face.

“Hey, bug,” he began and she could feel her eyes water when she heard the sadness in his voice. “Hey, none of that now. I know we’re both having a hard time, but it’s better that way, really.”

Marinette frowned. “What do you mean?”

The cat-like kwami sighed. “I’ve lost some of my chosen in the past. Some died. Others used the Miraculous for bad things and had to be put down or lost their Miraculous. Adrien chose to give the ring up so he wasn’t tempted to help his father by giving him half of the Miraculous he’s seeking,” he let out a wet laugh. “Honestly, I didn’t know the kid had it in him to do that. He can’t stand up to his father, but he still did the right thing.”

The fashion designer nodded, knowing how hard it must have been for the model to make this decision.

Adrien Agreste wasn’t the perfect teenager that everyone believed he was. He knew how to make it seem like he was perfect, but he wasn’t. Adrien… Adrien was a bit of an enabler. Being isolated by his father for years didn’t help in his social abilities, and his friends had to explain a lot of things to him. Like, what sexual harassment was, or why it’s wrong to let a liar get her way. Why it’s wrong to put the feelings of a girl he barely knows above the feelings of one of his closest friends. Why it hurt said friend.

Sometimes, if it wasn’t explained to him, Adrien wouldn’t understand, and wouldn’t put the effort to.

So, no, Adrien wasn’t perfect.

He had hurt her, both as Chat Noir when he forced his feelings on Ladybug, and as Adrien, when he told Marinette to put her feelings aside so a liar wouldn’t get akumatized, without a care about the designer’s own risk at akumatization.

He had hurt her, but she had forgiven him because he was her friend and she cared about him.

But, just like Plagg, knowing Adrien, his decision surprised her at first.

She felt bad for it, but she had thought, for a moment, that he was going to betray her.

Taking a deep breath, she scratched Plagg behind his ear. “I’m sorry you lost your partner,” she apologized.

Plagg let out another wet laugh. “I’m sorry you lost your partner.”

Pursing her lips, she gathered the black kwami in her hands. “But you didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

The kwami of destruction floating up next to her cheek, nuzzling against it.

“It’s okay. You don’t always get the luxury to say goodbye,” he floated in front of her face so he could look at her in the eyes. “We’ll be fine. And Adrien will be too. Now, we just need to end this whole thing, alright?”

Marinette laughed, but it was empty. “Alright.”

They waited a little bit before acting. They didn’t want to act so soon after Gabriel revealed himself to his son. If they acted and something went wrong, then the man could think that his son denounced him and could do something to him.

They didn’t want to risk it, so they waited until mid-March.

There were some Akumas during February but they were easy, which meant that Hawkmoth had plans for a much stronger Akuma later on. Hopefully, they would defeat him before he could act on it.

February has been a good month for them, and they enjoyed life a bit more than usual. Her project with Chloé was done and at the end of their presentation, they got a good grade. She was still seeing Chloé outside of school from time to time, beginning a tentative friendship.

She was glad to witness Chloé’s change.

Alya and Nino were doing better and remained friends. They even met Léa, Nino’s soulmate. They weren’t dating yet, but Marinette could see that they liked each other. She just hoped that when they started dating, Alya would be able to handle it. She had made so much progress in accepting her break up, she would hate to see her go back to how she was just after the breakup.

Damian and she finally got to spend their first Valentine’s Day together. They kept it simple, though, going out for dinner in a cozy restaurant, walking back to the Wayne’s apartment, and ending the night with a movie, cuddling with each other, Alfred the cat on their laps and Cloud at their feet.

She has been working on a dress for Damian’s prom and couldn’t contain her excitement. It amused Damian to no end and he would tease her about it and they would banter for a while.

Marinette was happy, and the sooner they got to defeat Hawkmoth, the happier she was.

Damian observed his girlfriend from the chair in her room. She was working on her dress, almost finished with it. He couldn’t wait to see her wearing it, knowing that she would be gorgeous in it.

He smirked, knowing that him going to prom with a date would shock everyone at school. It would amuse him for five minutes before finding it annoying, but he was good at ignoring the stares.

He hoped that Marinette would be able to ignore them too.

Looking around the room — with so much pink — he couldn’t help but think that a week from now, they would fight with Hawkmoth. He had no idea what would happen, but somehow, he wasn’t worried.

He had a feeling that everything would be alright from them.

Still, Marinette was being anxious over it, and he wanted to do something to help her relax.

Perhaps a weekend outside of Paris would help? They hadn’t left Paris ever since their little trip back in fall, and it would only benefit them to leave the city for a day or two.

Plus, it was getting warmer — too much, if he was being honest, and, wow, was the planet in danger — so they could go hiking somewhere.

Getting up, he walked to her, hugging her from behind. She leaned into him and he kissed her softly on the neck, going up until he was kissing her temple.

“I was thinking,” he began in a whisper, not willing to break the silence by being too loud.

She hummed in answer, leaning more into his chest.

“We should go somewhere this weekend, you know, to relax a little.”

Marinette sighed, but it was a happy one. “That would be great,” she admitted, turning around so she was facing him. “What were you thinking about?”

Taking her hand in his, he pulled her up and brought her closer to him so he was hugging her. She returned the hug, putting her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

It was something that she did often, and Damian found out that it helped her relax.

“How about we go hiking somewhere? I heard there are great spots for it in Normandie.”

“It’s beautiful there. A bit cold and rainy though, but we should manage,” she looked up, smiling at him and he found himself smiling back.

“Good. We’re leaving tomorrow?”

She nodded and he leaned forward to kiss her.

The weekend has been great, but too short in Damian’s opinion. He didn’t get to spend time alone with Marinette too often. There was always someone to tag along with them, and this time, they had been able to enjoy each other much more than usual.

This is why, on their way back in Paris, he decided they could take the next step in their relationship.

“I was thinking,” he began, making Marinette look away from the train’s window to look at him. She smiled at him, much more relaxed than two days ago.

“We’ve been together for almost two years, now,” he said taking her hand in his. “I was thinking we could take the next step, you know?” He saw her nod, still smiling at him.

Looking into her eyes, he felt relieved that she wasn’t expecting him to propose. Good, because with the way he was speaking, it could have seemed like it, but it wasn’t.

“When I get back to Paris for College, would you like us to live together?”

Marinette beamed at him, this smiled he loved so much on her lips.

“Really?!”

“Really,” he nodded.

And then, his arms were full of his girlfriend, who was kissing him.

“I would love to,” she exclaimed once she put distance between them.

They met halfway for a kiss, sealing this promise.

Then, it was time to confront Hawkmoth.

The day before, they went to the police and presented their evidence against Gabriel Agreste. They told them that they would act the next day and would appreciate it if they could wait in front of the Agreste residence to arrest the man.

After reviewing the evidence, the police easily agreed.

Marinette chose to put the ring in the Miracle Box. If things were to go south, then Hawkmoth would only have one Miraculous and not both.

It was better to be safe than sorry.

She was so nervous that even Damian’s word and touch couldn’t relax her.

But she didn’t have to worry at all.

Defeating Hawkmoth was anti-climatic.

She had always imagined a great battle. Blood, destruction, screams. Something messy that would attract the city’s attention and would be followed by everyone.

But it wasn’t like that at all.

Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sanscœur were the former’s office, working on whatever it was they were working on.

They weren’t expecting them at all.

Robin and Nightwing were very good in combat. Way better than she was, and way better than Gabriel and Nathalie were.

They didn’t have time to transform before Robin and Nightwing took them down.

All she had to do, in the end, was to restrain them and take their Miraculous.

“Gabriel Agreste, Nathalie Sanscœur, you used the Miraculous for selfish reasons. As the Guardian of the Miraculous, I declare you unworthy of wielding one.”

Without waiting a bit, she took their Miraculous, stocking them in her yoyo.

Gabriel and Nathalie were escorted to the police to be properly arrested, and Ladybug could only stare after them.

It was over. Hawkmoth’s reign was finally over.

Paris was free.

“Are you alright?”

Robin’s hand on her shoulder was warm and when she turned around, the warmth and love in his eyes made her tear up.

And then, finally, she broke down.

She collapsed in his arms, crying for the first time in years, not having to worry about her feelings being taken advantage of.

She cried in her soulmate’s arms, and he held her.

He held her until she stopped crying.

Tag List: 

@bigpicklebananatree​ @animegirlweeb​ @crazylittlemunchkin​ @northernbluetongue​ @cutechip​ @justafanwarrior​ @iloontjeboontje​ @resignedcatservant @maribat-is-lifeblood​ @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @mikantsume​ @dast218​ @amayakans​ @zestyzealot​ @lunarwolfspn​ @corabeth11​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @olynix​ @aestheticnpoetic​ @hot-neighbour-nextdoor​ @thehufflepuffranger-blog​ @k-poplunardreams​ @tis-i-beanbandit​ @bluesimani​ @laurcad123​ @notmycupoftea26​

[moderndayportia]

4 Seasons and 5 Centimeters

A/N: This is based on a drabble prompt request from @skashi-k. Thank you! I’m trying to get my writing skills back up to par by warming up with a few of these, so if you have a drabble request, feel free to drop it in my ask box.

Pairing: Kakasaku Rating: None

“Open your eyes.” A soft voice sparked in the deep, stagnant darkness in which he existed. He tried to shift, but there was no body to shift. He tried to open his eyes, but there were no eyes to open.

He was nothing, and it was okay. The blackness rushed in tighter. “Kakashi,” the voice lit through the void.

Again. “Kakashi.” More insistent. The tense sound of pained breathing gathered at the corners of his consciousness.

“Kakashi, open your eyes.”

No.

A tether yanked hard. Kakashi didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t stop the force that had ensnared him.

Up, up, up. He was dragged out of the deep, empty pool of unconsciousness, and plunged into a red world of searing pain.

His ears- yes, he had ears and eyes and a body- rang with the blaring of a siren. Everything was defined by hurt. “Kakashi, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Sakura.

It was Sakura. Her seal was activated. Something roiled in his belly and he jerked to the side and vomited blood.

________________________________________

“You look like shit,” she said with no malice. Kakashi scrubbed his hands through his hair and then pulled up his mask. She had appeared suddenly in front of him as he crouched in the dusky shadows on the roof of Konoha’s Grand Temple. He was on guard duty—or on the pretense of guard duty.

His name was still on the evaluation list after that mission. The one where— Sakura huffed and stepped gently across the ancient clay eaves before sinking into the space directly to his right, where he knew she knew he could keep an eye on her.

Underneath his hitai-ate Obito’s Sharingan ached.

“What’s with the uniform?” he asked, his voice slightly unfamiliar to his own ears. “I’m going out,” she responded simply. “Hn,” he answered. Because what was there really to say?

He had ordered her not to follow him into Anbu. Had actively pulled strings and called in favors to make sure she wasn’t accepted. But there she was, sitting next to him in the all black uniform reserved for nighttime missions.

Assassinations. Hostage taking. Mayhem. Murder. Blood.

It’s not what he’d wanted for her.

He was tired. He shifted and stood slowly, the places that still hurt making themselves known.

“Be careful.” His voice was a weary sigh. A breeze passed behind him and she was gone.

Kakashi yanked his mask back down. The late summer air was suddenly stifling.

His eye traced the angles of the elaborate roof until they settled on a certain spot—the eaves were newer, slightly less sun-bleached. They stood out even in the waning evening light. His friend Hayate had died over there. Kakashi slouched and limped back into the dark shadows.

He was so, so tired.

 ________________________________________

“Here, eat,” Sakura said, holding out a tin plate piled high. Kakashi glanced up briefly from where he was lounging under the crimson bows of a Fire Country oak tree, and then turned the page of his book, ignoring her.

“Kakashi.” A tinge of temper colored his name. “Hm?” he asked dismissively. “I said eat.” Her patience was slipping.

“Leave me be,” he responded, maintaining the façade of reading. She stood for a moment watching him, her cheeks flushed red with anger. “That’s an order,” he reiterated stoically. “Fine.” She set the plate at his feet and returned to the campfire where the rest of their Anbu squad was warming themselves by the crackling fire.

Kakashi closed his book, slipped on his Anbu mask and leaned his head back against the sturdy trunk, pretending to sleep.

Always pretending.

 _______________________________________

The gates of Konoha before him climbed high into the stark winter sky. Always steady. Always protecting. Cold stone and mortar built and guarded by warm flesh and red blood. Kakashi glanced back at his mission-weary squad, crunching behind him through knee-deep snow. They had done well. “We’ll debrief on Monday at 8:00 AM,” he directed. Several members perked up and blinked at him in surprise. “You’re on R&R until then.”

They lingered in the coldness, not sure what to do. “Dismissed,” Kakashi barked.

Knowing not to question a good thing when it came their way, the members of his squad dispersed into the night in a flash. Except for one. Sakura, of course. “I said dismissed, Sakura.”

Sakura hesitated. She seemed to have developed that annoying habit recently. “I just...”

She walked slowly towards him, her feet skimming above the snow. Perfect chakra control left her alone able to move with the stealth expected of them even at the end of a long, arduous mission. She reached into her side pouch and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. “I made this for you.” Kakashi looked at the package in her extended hand and then at her.

An unfamiliar emotion flashed from her eyes. “What—what is it?” he asked rigidly. “Open it and you’ll see.” Kakashi meticulously untied the twine around the package and unfolded the paper to reveal a soft piece of red fabric folded neatly inside. “What is it?” he asked again, glancing up at her. That look was shining even more brightly from her eyes. “It’s a scarf! I made it for you,” she smiled warmly. “Why?” Kakashi asked, not able to keep the indignance out of his voice. Sakura grabbed the scarf. “Because,” she groused, “It’s cold.” She somewhat roughly looped it around his neck and pulled it snug. “And it’s Christmas.”

As she adjusted the tails against the front of his armored vest, Kakashi realized how close she was. The warmth of her body reached out to him through the frigid air. Her cheeks were rosy red when she peeked up at him. “Merry Christmas, Kakashi,” she whispered, eyes avoiding his.

“….Merry Christmas,” he answered. And then she too was gone. Not even footsteps left in her wake. Kakashi stood in the bright moonlight for a long moment, thinking. He no longer felt cold.

 _______________________________________

Another Spring, another wedding.

Since he’d been declared next in line for Hokage, Kakashi’s presence was often required at these kinds of events. He’d rather be napping in a field somewhere or out on a mission, but he did his duty and put on the stiff formal attire and smiled and nodded and shook hands.

New beginnings meant his Anbu days were over and a long string of diplomacy and politics lay ahead. He’d always thought he’d have a warrior’s death. But things change. And so do people.

Kakashi slouched against a wall and took deep sips of his shochu when nobody was looking. His head was spinning a little. They hadn’t skimped on the premium stuff.

He turned his glass around in his hands and examined a little too closely the way it caught the afternoon sunlight.

Across the garden Sakura was talking with a man he recognized from Planning and Logistics.

Nice guy, but not good enough for her, he told himself as he snuck another gulp.

He hadn’t seen her in a while. Not since she had formally accepted the position of Head Medic. He’d been relieved when she’d finally handed him her resignation, but sometimes he found himself missing her company.

Today she looked—

Beautiful.

The long sleeves of her furisode kimono were adorned with an intricate climbing lilac motif that perfectly complemented her soft pink hair. They also signaled to every bachelor in the room that she was unmarried. Young, beautiful and unmarried. Kakashi sighed and turned to leave. Thanks to Tsunade-sama’s orchestrated drinking game at the head table, the wedding party was reaching a point of alcoholic stupor that ensured he would not be missed.

He ducked out the gate and into the shady afternoon street littered with a soft blanket of pink from a tall, ancient cherry tree towering overhead. He regretted that he’d rarely been in the village this time of year.

Konoha glowed.

“Kakashi,” a voice called. Of course. She wouldn’t let him get away that easily. Deciding to be amenable, Kakashi turned back to see Sakura hurrying towards him, as quickly and gracefully as her kimono would allow. “Hello, Sakura,” he said. “Are you leaving?” she asked, a small, familiar crease between her eyebrows showing itself. He fought the urge to run his thumb over it and rub it out. “Yes,” he answered simply. Sakura glanced around the empty street before looking back at him. “Please don’t,” she said timidly.

“Why?” Sakura looked to the side and hesitated. A gentle breeze rustled through the bows high above, and a rain of soft petals fell around them.

Long ago, Minato-sensei had told Kakashi that the velocity of a falling cherry blossom petal was 5 centimeters per a second as Kakashi tried to catch as many as he could on the blade of his tanto.

Sakura laughed a little and stepped closer.

Kakashi waited, stone still.

She rose up to her toes and reached to comb her fingers through his hair. Kakashi closed his eye. This kind of touch—neither to hurt nor heal—was also a distant memory.

“You have petals in your hair,” Sakura said breathlessly.

Kakashi opened his eye. She was still close. She too had petals in her hair. Her eyes burned green in the half-light. A soft blush painted her cheeks.

Now, his heart screamed.

Now.

His hands rose to softly hold her waist as he leaned in. Centimeters separated their lips.

“Kakashi,” she whispered. Now.

His lips pressed against hers softly.

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | L Lawliet

L is here too, wow. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot, again. 

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

   Here is the thing: сhildren receiving inadequate affection may manifest stunted physical growth despite receiving adequate nutrition, so you can imagine what it can do to the emotional growth and perception of other people. Watari tried to cultivate kindness, mercy, love equally in his wards but it is impossible considering how many orphans reside in Wammy’s house. Little L was more interested in the world’s famous inventions, books, riddles than in other children, and now you have to face the consequences.

  He has to start from scratch. In the beginning L sticks to mimicking affection given to him. You bought him a box of chocolate, he will buy you a box of eclairs. You ruffled his hair, he will play with yours, twisting it on finger. You hugged him and he will hug you whenever feels convenient. At some point he will find new ways of showing his love.

  Understanding that he can do other things too gave him insight. He can try this, and that, and ask you if you liked it or not, wow. L’s curiosity will take over: different types of kisses, various cuddle positions, playful fights, nights out, nights in – he wants to do it all.

  Well, not everything is so rosy. During work, he forgets what he has learned and goes back to his old self. Sadly, this won’t change no matter what.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

 Where to begin? How do you even get this man to be your friend? You don’t. He chooses you and then suddenly, - boom! – you’re best friends forever, it is established fact. But before it happens, he will study you like an ant under a magnifying glass.

There is not a lot of places where he can find a person with an IQ close to his. High chance L will look for a friend among the best FBI agents or fellow detectives.

 Friends who judge people together stay together. He is a person who likes to spill some tea and throw a little shade for entertainment.

  Sarcasm and irony are things that no conversation can go without, so L wants a person who doesn’t get offended right away and can keep up with it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

   The best way to make L shut up is to cuddle him. No way he will refuse a good cuddle session when in private, but will hesitate if someone else is around.

 He’s 100% touch-starved. All cuddle positions are fine, but if you want to knock him out completely go for face to face cuddle while on his lap. Now he can’t sit in frog-like position (so his IQ has already dropped) and there’s person playing with his hair? Congratulation, L has fallen.

 D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

D stands for domestic and disaster when it comes to both cooking and cleaning. Even though he would love to settle down and retire from detective work, he has no skills when it comes to the most basic things. His whole life someone else took care for those little unimportant tasks so he could push human mind to its limit, and now it’s too late for relearning. When he tries to cook it never ends up well, you just have to accept this man’s futility and move on.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

There was nothing surprising that he had to break up with you. No other possible ending for such relationship, absurd and strange, and with someone like him. L will choose cruel ghosting because explanation is for losers and emotionally mature people. One day he vanishes from your radar: no more messages, no more calls, nobody knows him because L never met your friends. Conscience continues to nibble him for two weeks or so, he has to continuously fight desire to contact you and he would miserably fail if there was no Kira to occupy all of his free time.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Two to three years are enough for him to pop a question. Those months were spent in careful study and relationship viability assessment. Let’s be real, he will put person he likes in tricky situations just to evaluate their reaction. Manipulative? Yes. Cruel? Yes. Weird? Yes. He won’t allow anything extreme though. After all, he learned  a lot about human interactions and developed undoubtedly strong feelings for them. In addition, he will propose during trip to Kyoto, when visiting Kiyomizu-dera  with its famous Love Shrine. Right after “Why would I walk between these   stones if I already found you?”.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

In the beginning his level of gentleness is somewhere between a log and jar of jam. Day by day, week by week L realizes that all of his actions come down to the will to care, love, protect, - and guess what? – these three have to be gentle in order to fit the definition of healthy relationship. He allows himself to grow emotionally. If we talk about physical sphere, he is very cautious from the beginning and tries to fight his natural stiffness so another person can feel his love.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

It’s another of his weakness. L wasn’t properly hugged as a child and it took a toll on him: when you hug him for first time, he is stiff and awkward. Second time is better, but his hands on your back still feel like a mannequin’s grip.

L grows fond of warmth and comfort pretty fast and he starts to initiate hugs himself. His favorite part of the day is when he tiptoes to you from behind, grabs you in bear hug, and you both fall on the sofa/bed/anything soft enough to leave you without bruises.  

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He suddenly blurted it out after only 3 months of dating. It sounded so innocent, affectionate, sincere, that he shut up for a minute to rethink what just happened. He totally meant what he said, of course, but at the same time, he was not sure it was the right moment, the right tone, even the right choice of words. L will try to explain what he wanted to say in trembling voice but will not say anything coherent because L.exe stopped working.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

 Because of how hard it is to let new people in, L becomes very attached to those who have overcome all obstacles and decided to stay in his life. Thus fear of abandonment arises, and so does jealousy.

He is not paranoid about where you are and who you spend your time, but he doesn’t mind  knowing it. You don’t want to use a tracker on your phone? Too bad, maybe, he’s already installed it. For your safety only.

 Easily jealous and will need a lot of reassurance despite immediately becoming distant and silent. It is another way of manipulation because what if you do leave him all alone?

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Again, he didn’t have a lot of practice so L’s kisses are sloppy and a little rough. His lips are always chapped because of constant licking and biting during intense thought process, and they feel a little dry on your skin. Because of this (and awkwardness, of course) L will quickly shift kisses into cuddles or hugs. He both prefers to kiss and be kissed on the forehead, since, in his opinion, it is the gentlest expression of love.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

The God is dead, house is on fire, Watari maneuvers between flames, trying to save the day. No, seriously, kids love L, he looks like a character from their favorite cartoon, but since he is not the most energetic person, to say the least, they quickly lose interest in him. The best solution for L is to babysit with someone who is more experienced and can guide him through this complicated process. Otherwise, he will make sure all dangerous objects are out of reach and leave children to themselves (if their age allows, of course).

Afraid to have kids of his own. Living in orphanage, he had no real functional family so a thought of parent's duty scares him.

 M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

·   Morning routine depends on L’s messed up sleeping schedule:

If he went to bed last night, it means sleep deprivation finally got to him. Next 12 hours or so he will spend in blanket cocoon, tossing and slightly snuffling. No human power can wake him up, there’s no point in trying.

However if he stayed up all night, you will find out your kitchen turned into delicious sweet buffet. TV is still turned on with weird movie playing, but no sound is coming out of speakers. A tower of empty teacups is about to collapse. L is sitting in the chair, eating two cupcakes at once, lost in thoughts. He will offer you to join him in feast and raise his head a little, exposing his cheek for a kiss. It’s 5 am. Sun is rising and erasing last stars from the sky. Life is good.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

·Nights out are rare, most of the times you stay inside, eating take-out and watching true crime documentaries. He still cannot decide whether they are dumb or interesting, so he keeps watching and changing his opinion with every new episode. After you go to bed, L will lay down next to you. Sometimes he will fall asleep, cuddling you and nuzzling into your neck. Sometimes he will get up and do God knows what.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Well, he gives you fake name, always lies about his job, and holds back many details about his life… L wants to open up, he really does, but there’s no way he will do it. To every question he has a prepared half-true answer. Everything related to detective work is hidden behind seven seals and will be never presented to you unless you’re from FBI.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The embodiment of serenity, L never gets angry in classical sense. He may sulk, turn to sarcasm, shower your with stinging comments or, on the contrary, suddenly stop talking, but you’ll never see him red-faced, screaming, swearing right and left. He doesn’t have time to waste energy on such silly thing. It takes a lot to make him mad. After he calms down, L will continue make bitter remarks about thing that pissed him off for weeks.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Not that attentive, really. You would expect him to remember a lot but he is always busy chasing exceptional criminals and his brain erases many details, both minor and major. For example, he can easily forget your Birthday and congratulate you both before and after it.

L never fails to remember anniversaries thanks to phone reminders. However, if he doesn’t check his phone that day, he will forget about them as well.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

No matter how trite it may sound, his favorite moment is their first kiss. L clearly remembers his heart beating deafeningly loud and palms sweating like he’s kid who got in big trouble. There is no picture left in his memory, only feelings and crazy thoughts, terribly matted together. After it happened, L couldn’t even make a witty remark. Later that day he sat in front of overflowing cup of tea and slowly realized how little happiness he had felt before.  

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Since he did everything to protect himself first and then, - just in case, - put a spying app on the phone of his loved, a satisfactory sense of security drowns out all of his possible fears. If anything happens, there’s already a rescue plan waiting to be executed.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Let’s say he is trying, he is trying his best every day.

When it comes to presents, L will go for advice to Internet, rarely to Watari, and choose gift as close as possible to your interests. Dates are all on you though, because he feels so strange when he has to plan something for you two. On a subconscious level, he is afraid to ruin everything.

Tries even harder on anniversaries (if he remembers about them) and you either have the best day of your life, when he does whenever you want, or you are all alone wondering what the actual heck. In short, it’s all or nothing situation.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

L is obviously manipulative, you can’t justify him. Some manipulation techniques are so integrated in his thinking and speech that it is impossible to get rid of them. Like if gaslighting was an Olympic sport, he would have all golden, silver, and bronze medals.

It seems like the opposite to the first point, but L also loves to be inappropriate straightforward. You know, moments when you understand what you feel but when another person vocalizes it or comments on it, you absolutely lose your shit? That’s what we talk about.

Quirkiness. I don’t really think this needs explanation. The totality of his strange habits can be a very repulsive sight to an ordinary person.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Watari is more concerned about his looks than he is. L never buys his clothes, his wardrobe is minimalist’s dream and consists of few pieces of monotone clothes, three pairs of shoes, and warm jacket for a fall/winter season. He doesn’t like brushing his hair, bites his nails to the blood, but absolutely adores hot bubble bathes. Looks do not matter when all people see is the letter L in Gothic font.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Depends on time spent in the relationship:

 It’s stupid to expect L to suffer tremendously if you leave in first two months. When you are here he is a little bit happier, when you are not he is not that concerned. There’s still a high chance you’ll see him as he sees himself and leave, so why would he bother? It’s almost a painful expectation for another person to give up. If it ends, nothing will change, end of story.

Later L starts to catch himself worrying that someone finally climbed over the wall of his alienation, and it doesn’t seem like they are planning to leave any time soon. The closer they get, the scarier it is. If you suddenly cut all ties, he will be heartbroken, his face is emotionless like always but he is still hurt deep inside.

If anything happens a lot later in relationship, like year or two, L’s reaction will be calmer. He is grateful for everything they had and shared with him, for every moment of happiness, so he doesn’t feel like they can leave completely now. They will remain in his memory and his heart and because of it he won’t feel “incomplete”. A little bitter, but not hurt or emotionally torn apart.

If there’s any possibility that his loved one was killed by Kira, L will be furious. He will turn over every stone, use everything he can to avenge them and bring a peace to their memory.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

It’s scary how much time L spends in frog-like position with back hunched. Therefore I feel like he will be ecstatic if someone offered him a good back massage to relax those tense muscles.

Overall, he loves random spa days when you two spend time in sauna, hot springs, yoga class etc. This probably would be his present on your first anniversary.

Some children were obsessed with dinosaurs, some were obsessed with superheroes, but L was obsessed with occultism, urban legends, haunted things, unexplained disappearances, and ghosts. His obsession died but its influence didn’t. Why else would he be so scarred and intrigued after hearing about Shinigami?

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Just like Light, he wouldn’t stand blatant stupidity. Even if there’s something to compensate it, he will grow tired of dumb questions or over-all behavior. Oh, and he will give his comments on it whenever possible too.

Nosiness and bad boundaries. If he keeps some information to himself, it is not because of luck of trust. As a world’s best detective, he has many reasons to dodge personal questions to protect his work from interference and himself from possibility of getting killed.

He doesn’t like loud noises but can put up with it if needed with his collections of different ear plugs.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

It’s a common knowledge L’s sleeping schedule is non-existent. It has been like it since the day he took his first case and nothing has changed since. Watari keeps an eye on how many hours L stays awake and suggests him to rest from time to time but it rarely helps. Once L got so exhausted he straight up started hallucinating about having an adopted child and it scarred the hell out of him. After this incident he takes Watari’s advice more seriously.

L tried different versions of polyphase sleep at least once. Non of them worked, he ended up even more tired and frustrated, lost feeling in one of his arms, then broke a cup because of it.

Also L can sleep everywhere, no matter how uncomfortable he is. In the chair, leaning on the wall, on the floor – it all works for him unless there’s a loud noise in the room.