#the next chapter/part/whatever will probably be delayed

[heaven4lostgirls]

Never Enough (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warning: angst, allusion to breakup, Steve chooses Sharon over reader.

summary: Steve leaves you, thinking you’ll wait for him.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: I’ll be honest, this isn’t my best work, but I thought why not get something out because I’m pretty sure the next chapter of mr americana and the heartbreak prince will be a little delayed cus I have so much work to do but I hope this tides you over until them lmao.

part 1, part 2, part 3

“Steve, I swear to god if you walk out that door, we’re done” you say as tears run down your face. It’s radio silent in the Avenger’s compound as Steve stands in front of you about to leave because Sharon had called him because of an ‘emergency.’ After she had found out that you were Steve’s girlfriend, she found ways to come in-between the both of you and somehow, she was succeeding. This was your third fight about Steve just leaving out of nowhere when she called for him, you don’t know how much of this you had in you.

“Don’t be dramatic y/n” he rolls his eyes, “we’ve been over this, she’s just a friend” he says, and you cross your arms over your chest. “Steve, how many times do I need to tell you that she is not just a friend to you? A month ago, she wanted to get into your pants” you raise your voice and Steve’s expression only grows more annoyed, “She doesn’t want me like that anymore!” he says, your expression grows even more annoyed. “If you step a foot out of that door Steve, I won’t be here when you get back” you threaten him and watch as he hesitates before he says,

“She needs me y/n” he pleads with you and tears if frustration line your eyes at his words. “What about me?!” you cry out at him incredulously, “she! Is not your girlfriend Steve! I am!” you throw your hands in the air as tears run down your face in silence and watch as Steve’s irritated demeanour breaks “I’m going y/n, we can talk about this when I get back” he says and slides a hand down his face in exasperation. “Steven Grant Rogers, don’t you dare” you threaten as he again walks to the door. “I’m sorry y/n, I’ll be back” he rushes to the door as he feels his phone buzz again.

As soon as the door to your shared room closes. You’re sliding down the wall as you sob uncontrollably, why was it so easy for him to pick her? Why did he pick her? Why were you never enough?

The rest of the Avengers stand outside your door, hearing your heartbreaking sobs is enough for tony to get Friday to unlock your door before he crouches down next to you, letting you wrap your arms around him and sob into his shirt. “Why wasn’t I enough?” you cry and Tony’s eyes mist over at your heartbroken whisper, he shakes his head as he rubs your back “you are perfect” he whispers as he kisses your forehead. Tony had always been like a father figure to you since you had joined the Avengers, a little older than Peter, he had taken you both under his wing and taught you everything you needed to know.

As much as it hurt all the Avengers to see you so broken, it hurt Tony that much more that this was the one source of pain he couldn’t protect you from. As your anguished sobbing turned into small sniffles, Tony lifts your head and wipes your nose with his sleeve, “eugh” he makes a face and smiles at the small laugh you produce.

You loom around the room to see Peter, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Bruce, and Wanda all standing or sitting in different parts of the room, watching you with sad gazes, you know they’ve probably already heard the entire fight and you find yourself collecting yourself before you stand up with the help of Tony to look at all of them, “I cant stay here” you admit to them. Their faces fall as they realise that this isn’t your usual fight with Steve and by him choosing to check on Sharon instead of staying with you, he’s lost his place in your life.

Some nod solemnly and other eyes mist over yet they all share an overall agreement knowing that they are willing to do whatever they need to help you heal. It’s surprisingly Tony who voices what everyone else is thinking, “do you not want to wait to hear what he has to say?” he asks softly as you lean on his chest. You shake your head as tears begin to fill your eyes again. “I asked- “your voice breaks, “I begged him to stay” you tell them and watch as sympathy floods their faces.

Wanda and Natasha are the first one’s moving in order to get you out of there, they give everyone tasks so that you have some breathing room, Tony is organizing a safe house out of state while Sam and Bucky are working on getting a plane and pilot to fly you to it. Peter is making food and trying to stock up the house with groceries for the near future and Nat is overseeing his orders to make sure he doesn’t put just junk food on it.

Whist everything around you is moving faster than you can imagine for you to be out of the compound before Steve gets back, which according to Bucky is in the next hour, You and Wanda spend time packing your clothes and essentials you’ll need to have. The quiet in the room is comforting even though you can feel the anxiety slowly overcoming you at the idea of finally leaving Steve.

Wanda breaks the silence as she bombards you with a hug, “I could feel your pain, I thought this might help” and it does, Wanda has an aura around her that is so comforting for everyone around her. You both continue packing before you’re interrupted by Bucky knocking on your open door, he smiles sadly, “we’re ready for you” he says and you nod, picking up the two duffel bags lying on the floor, leaving a piece of paper on the bed before you walk out to the quinjet.

Bucky stops you before getting on the plane, as he grasps your arm, he pulls you into a hug and you know this is his way for apologizing for Steve’s behaviour. “it’s not your fault Buck” you whisper, and you feel him nod into the hug, you were both friends through Steve and you knew just how scared he must be in fear of losing you because of what his friend had done.

Peter is next and you can’t help but laugh through your tears as you see him with tears running down his pouting face, he looks like a puppy. “c’mon parker pull it together’ you roll your eyes and pull him into a hug as he sobs, “you do know I’m coming back, right?” you whisper as his sobs stop and he nods and you both giggle together. “we’re ready for take-off” you hear the pilot through the megaphone, and you release peter to walk onto the plane.

As soon as the door opens for you, you hear your voice being called desperately. “Y/N!!” you hear, and everyone turns around to meet Steve’s broken expression. “NO! Please just hear me out!!” he’s screaming through his tears however Bucky holds him back. “No! Stop the plane please! I need to talk to her” he yells and tries to fight off Bucky to get to you, but you ignore him and wipe your cheeks and make you way onto the plane, “NO! Please y/n stop! I’ll be better baby! Just get off the plane please!” his screams are drowned out as you make your way to the couches on the plane and sob.

“Y/N! Please! Let me talk to her! Please someone! Let me talk to her!” his voice becomes hoarse from all the yelling as he watches the plane take off, he doesn’t stop struggling in Bucky’s hold until the plane disappears. “I’m sorry, God I’m so sorry” he cries into his hands before he collapses, crushing your handwritten letter in one hand as he sobs. Bucky lets everyone leave as he sits with Steve on the ground, watching his best friend fall apart on the dark asphalt.

[moonshynecybin]

i thinkkkkk this one is gonna be part of something larger but here's the first part of a fic (2.8k so far) where the first chapter is literally just rosquez having a conversation in an airport set around jerez 2024… i also wanted to add some good ole marquez brother goof arounds:

“Look, if you’re just gonna make fun of me—”

“No, please! I wanna hear the rest of this,” Alex says, leaning into Marc’s space and raising his eyebrows, goofy. It makes Marc let out a big laugh— full and loud. He stretches against the plastic of the airport gate seating, the movement pulling at overtired muscles. It feels like they’ve been here forever.

It’s been a long journey back to Spain— storm delays and rerouting stranding them in the airport for hours. They’re still here waiting for a connecting flight, puttering away next to their gate and shooting the shit. It’s been a good weekend —a podium for him— but he’s tired, and ready to be home.

“No no no no, I’m done.” He settles into his seat, pushing Alex’s face away from him. Alex cackles, and Marc points at him. “But you should do that professionally!”

Alex pulls one of his mild, exasperated faces, and it makes Marc smile wider. They’re probably being too loud. Marc doesn’t care.

“You know,” Alex points out, dragging out the last syllable of know so it sounds like knowwwww, “You are the world’s absolute worst loser.” 

Marc shrugs. “It’s a good thing, too— in our line of work you have to be.” He’s unrepentant. It’s how he’s built.

He ignores the face that Alex is surely making and leans down to rummage through his carry on, looking for headphones. For sure, if he has to lose to anyone, he’d prefer it was Alex. With him, the nagging bite of loss usually manages to morph into something lighter, more fun, just because he knows Alex won’t ever blame him for how he gets, how involved he can be in winning. That doesn’t mean he enjoys losing—he’ll never enjoy that—but it takes it back to being a game. None of the anticipation of a sour aftermath that he’s faced in the past, the wait for the other foot to drop, and the play to slide towards resentment without him noticing.

“I doubt losing at a video game will help you gain a competitive edge on the track,” Alex asserts dryly, turning his attention back to his phone and tapping open the Kindle app. He’s been obsessed with those fantasy novels, lately. “You can’t win at everything.”

“Trust me, I know,” Marc laughs, rubbing at his arm. He needs to call his PT. Whatever. “But! I don’t think that first thing is true.” Banishing the thought from his head, he leans over to poke Alex in the arm. Alex swats at his hand, not looking up from his book, and Marc pokes him again, harder this time. “I have a winner mentality.”

“You have a loser mentality. You just lost.” Alex is staring at what Marc thinks is the table of contents.

“Semantics.” Another poke.

Alex looks up, incredulous. Victory. 

“You were cheating! And you still lost!” 

“But you don’t have any proof of that.”

And Alex shakes his head like he can’t believe him, laughs again. “You are insufferable.”

Marc grins and Alex sighs, scrubs a hand over his head.

“I’m going to go grab some water. Maybe eventually they’ll let us board this fucking plane. You want anything?”

Marc shakes his head.

“No, I’m good.” He ate earlier. He opens his phone back up, thumbs over his home screen. Nothing looks exciting. He hasn't been on instagram so much lately– avoiding comments.

He sighs and contemplates opening his dating app. He doesn’t.

Nothing’s felt— he’s busy. 

It’s always been too much— too complicated with his schedule, with travel, timezones, turning over battles in his head. Braking maneuvers and tire pressure edging out any relationship before it got off the ground properly. Lately, since his arm, and since Alex had told him to go find someone— it’s been nagging more.

But no one gets it. Not like he does. And he’s just never found someone that felt like they were worth all of the effort it would take, keeping a relationship together in a life like his, bending himself around racing. There’s been flashes, some false starts, but nothing has ever–

He hears a distracted chuckle behind his back, a light sound, happy, and it hooks him, hard. A sucker punch. He glances over, his previous train of thought abandoned.

It’s— 

He's heard that laugh before. 

They haven’t seen each other— properly, actually exchanging words— since last year. The end of the season. They were both in the bathroom at the Lights Out Gala. Marc in a tux, Vale in a flannel. Marc had held the door for Vale as he had left. 

Vale, once he’d registered his presence, had thrown him a thin lipped, restrained smile, and thanked him. Asked him vaguely about his surgery. Moved on.

And now he’s on the phone, a few feet away, and he probably hasn’t even seen Marc yet. Instead, he’s chattering lowly, head slightly tilted as he drags a thumb over the handle of his suitcase.

Marc has to wonder if stuff like this happens to other people.

Alex hasn’t left yet, but is about to. He's noticed, of course he noticed, and he tugs on Marc’s sleeve, voice low. “You need me to stay?”

Marc shrugs, shakes his head. He's been around Vale before, after everything, in close quarters even. It's fine. 

He's had a lot of practice.

Those last few years, before Vale retired, after Argentina—after Sepang, really, though he maybe hadn’t processed it yet— he worked on it a lot. On taking Vale off of the pedestal, making him more of a person. On realizing he was always going to have a different relationship to Vale than Vale would to him.

He works hard at that distance, enforcing it, maintaining it. Tending to it.

And he had gotten somewhere better, once he had realized that. Had stopped trying to say hi to him every time he saw him. Vale is his hero, and he knows by know that that’s never going to change completely. The precise way his presence lights Marc up, makes him giddy, the disbelieving undercurrent that Valentino Rossi knows his name— but he also has come to terms with the fact that it's never going to be like he imagined when he was twenty, and he thought maybe he could matter as much to Vale as he did to Marc.

He knows that.

But it was an adjustment. It took some time. It’s better now. He's used to it.

Now, he can sit at an airport gate with him and ignore him.

He’s probably been staring at his phone screen a little too hard. 

“Allora— so, how have you been?” A voice asks, simply, closer to his ear than it should be. Of course.

He puts the emphasis on you, the full force of him narrowed on the word. Marc stays very, forcibly still. Projects calm.

Vale’s across from him, now, got there without him noticing. His legs are spread out wide in the seat across from Marc, hat pulled low and posture easy. His face is neutral— pleasant. Marc knows that means absolutely nothing.

Vale’s gaze charts over him, carefully, taking him in. Marc swallows, steels his jaw.

Vale has always had a way of observing. Leveraging that beam of attention. He doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and he looks good— tired, but relaxed, thin frame bundled up in a hoodie, hat pulled low over his forehead. Incognito mode, Marc remembers him joking sometime in 2013, after they had snuck out of the paddock to grab a drink at a bar post media day. But you always dress like that, Marc had said, probably too confidently, and Vale had laughed, had leant in and said Well, if I want them to recognize me, I just wear the Yamaha shirt.

Marc blinks. Vale’s eyebrows are raised, expectantly. He’s been quiet too long.

“Why?” He asks pleasantly. No use pretending.

“How have you been?” Vale asks, evenly, continuing as if Marc didn’t talk. “It has been a few months, yes? Since we’ve seen each other? The gala?” He looks away, shrugging. “I wondered about your arm– it seems better.”

“You could have texted.” Marc says, furrowing his brow. He's being overly serious, he knows, but he’s curious. He didn’t expect Vale to text, knew he wouldn’t actually. It still, despite it all, prickled at him. Whenever he was injured, before, Vale would always ask. He hadn't, anytime in the last four years, despite the severity of the injury.

So why is he asking now.

Vale huffs a laugh, swipes a thumb over his phone case, waves it lazily. “My number, it ah, leaked.” He makes a face. “I had to get a new phone a while ago. I don't think your contact made it over.”

It’s better than him deleting it. Better than Marc expected, to be honest.

It could also be a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Marc, says, unsure how to continue. He smiles at Vale anyways, lifts his good shoulder, combing through his brain for what he actually wants Vale to know about his arm. Not lying, just slightly to the left of the truth. He doesn't want anything getting back to Pecco, but Vale can sense insincerity from a mile off.

“I can't complain. The last surgery, it helped.”

Vale’s eyebrows jump, making a little grimace. “I heard, it did not look very pleasant.”

The documentary, Marc thinks, Did he watch the fucking documentary?

“—Now it’s just the bike? Managing the new braking style?” Vale asks. Marc cannot fucking remember the last time Vale asked him two questions in a row.

“Ah, you know. Trade secret.” Vale’s team is also vying for the GP25 — best to keep as much as he can close to his chest.

Vale raises an eyebrow and Marc folds like a cheap stack of cards.

He sighs. nods. Who cares. Vale’s watched him ride for years, he knows Marc still has a little bit to improve on the year old Ducati. He’s seen the data.

“Now it’s just the getting the bike, nailing the setup.” He goes for the PR version of the truth. Nevermind that his arm is still in PT three times a week. The Ducati is good— Marc is having more fun. Fighting at the front. Adjusting easier than he thought he would.

But it’s not a Honda. He needs a bit more time, and he needs– he needs the factory spec. And it looks like Jorge Martin might be the one to get it.

Vale nods, neutral, like the conversation’s ending, like he’s being gracious with Marc’s answer, letting him keep his emotions close— and a sharp, unexplainable feeling digs into Marc’s chest, that same way it did when he was watching him from the seat over in whatever press conference, those first few years. He wants to keep Vale talking. Wants him to keep looking at Marc, wants to— Marc doesn’t quite know, exactly, but it feels a lot like he does on track, when he just can’t quite keep himself from reaching for the win.

He speaks. Vale’s gaze snaps back to him, head following after, a little lazier.

“You? How's endurance racing? Missing anything about MotoGP?”

He says like he doesn’t know. Like he doesn't keep tabs. Like people don’t ask him about Vale’s results.

Anyways, it's hard to be involved in MotoGP and not hear about Vale, even when he’s been retired going into three years now. People talk, always eager for Marc’s opinion on his great rival.

There’s a quirk at the corner of Vale’s mouth. Like he’s won something. Marc curls a fist tight, ignoring the feeling that he’s given information away.

“Some things.” Vale replies, an odd glimmer to him. His brow furrows, then: “I miss how it was around ten years ago, more.”

Marc blinks.

“— Getting old, I mean. It was not so fun, there at the end. I could see everything I wanted to do, every move I would've made on track, ” He sits down across from Marc, leans back in his seat, long torso bending with his lazy posture, the mood shifts and he laughs. “But I was too old! It was harder.”

Of course that’s what he meant. Marc doesn’t— he doesn’t miss Marc. doesn’t think about him much at all, probably. Wasn’t saying he missed how it was between them, ten years ago, when they were friends. Marc knows that.

“I'm getting up there, now.” Marc jokes, “Acosta, he is on the horizon.” He’s not sure it lands, but Vale huffs a laugh anyways, rubs at his eyebrow.

“You?” Vale asks, incredulous. That x-ray quality is back in his vision. He always— He used to always get Marc that way, when he would dial in and make Marc think the words he was saying mattered to him. 

Vale shakes his head, shimmies a shoulder, wags a finger. “No no no no, don’t try that– you are still young, you cant talk to me about old.”

Marc grins. He doesn’t feel it so much, now, the years between them, but it’s a nice reminder of how good it felt, being the up and comer on the scene. The next Valentino Rossi. That was fun.

But he’s older now, has been in the paddock longer than almost anyone, just like Vale had– and he can feel it, dragging at his arm. can see it, in the lines under his eyes, the unfamiliarity of the faces around him.

He wonders how Vale did it for so long. That slow decline— new people popping up every day, ones who learned from him, perfected ideas he pioneered, then using them against him. 

He remembers how he felt on the podium yesterday, and decides not to ask. He leans back.

“Ehhhh, you are not really that much older than me.”

Vale’s expression doesn’t change, still set at his default neutrally animated, but something charges in the air, and Marc gets the sense he wants to say something, toying with the edge of the cliff.

Marc searches for something that won’t rock the boat. He settles on a compliment.

“Pecco was good this weekend— He beat me. You trained him well.”

Vale’s shoulders slide down, relaxing minutely. The charge slips away. Success.

“Ah, he’s a lot better than he was when you showed up at the ranch ten years ago, yes.” 

Marc leans forwards, “Hey!” So much for avoiding fraught topics.

Vale tilts his chin, considering. “What did you say about him? I don’t think it was flattering–”

“—That was ten years ago! I’m wrong ONCE.”

“Once is enough!”

“Apparently.” Marc hits back. 

And it’s good— they’re laughing, Marc thinks, he’s laughing— but that last bit, the apparently, hangs there, snagging in Marc’s mind.

Once is enough. Apparently.

Vale’s smile dies slowly, once it’s clear Marc isn’t about to continue, and it’s odd. Not fraught, for once— though Marc hasn't been the best at recognizing when it was in the past, but he’s pretty sure here. The moment dangles for a second, as they sit across from each other in an airport looking at each other. Vale’s face is doing that thing it was earlier, where he seems to be on the verge of some moment, and his mouth opens. For some reason, Marc flushes hot on the back of his neck. His skin feels tight, and their eye contact holds.

“All good?” It’s Alex, coming back with his Smartwater.

Vale sits up straighter, immediately, posture snapping into place. He nods at Alex, who ignores him, and slides back into his seat. He shrugs at Marc, a little in-joke. What did I do? it asks, fully knowing the answer. Alex has never been as shy as Marc is about his feelings concerning Valentino Rossi. 

And it's that above anything that makes Marc feel like he’s dunked his head in ice water, reality crashing in. The moment snaps as Vale tucks back into himself, leaving Marc off his balance. He feels dizzy and a little off kilter, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s gotten away with something, something illicit, which is ridiculous — he’s just been sitting here.

Nothing’s even happened. They've been two meters away from each other the entire time.

They haven’t even touched.

Vale’s eyes are boring into him, blue and clear. Alert. And Marc catches a flash of— concern, maybe, his brow is creasing— and it tugs at Marc, makes him want to glance back and make him feel easy, lift the corner of his mouth, shrug his shoulders and dismiss Alex’s chilliness. Makes him hot and nervy, out of his skin with the need to do something he doesn’t have a name for.

He smiles.

Maybe he is doing something wrong.

Vale smiles back, and it’s brilliant.

The flight attendant comes over the PA. They’re boarding.

[suzukiblu]

Dude I get paid tomorrow, how much to bribe you to edit the next chapter of think pink???

. . . . . . honestly I don't know if I've really been asked about my editing rates/prioritizing rates before, haha, but thank you, mysterious stranger, I'm glad you like the fic that much! ❤️ So if you're seriously inquiring after that, I'd be willing to do a conversion on my usual Ko-fi tier thank-yous to move editing the chapter higher up my to-do list with my sub tier thank-yous, as opposed to down near the bottom where it admittedly currently dwells.

The main delay right now is I gotta reread the previous three chapters to make sure I don't fuck anything up in the continuity/conversation, and then it's roughly 24k to edit after that. There shouldn't be any MAJOR edits or rewrites, fingers crossed, but it's still a pretty decent chunk to read and correct, which is part of why I haven't made much progress on it. So I'd probably say I'd be willing to move it up the list into more immediately active editing as opposed to "I'll get there when I get there" editing at half my usual "tier thank-you"s rate, so like . . . 5 USD per 1k words' worth of editing, let's say?

So basically, if that's something you'd want to pursue, I'm open to it! If you'd be interested in that, you can dono whatever you like to my Ko-fi and just put "think pink edits" in the message, and I'll bump the equivalent amount of editing up my to-do list/writing schedule.

[mychoombatheroomba]

Compartmentalization

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 23

“How much do you think they know?” he asked when you were out of earshot of the buildings and the guard posts, looking over at you. “About the bioweapons, Umbrella . . . all of it.”

“I don’t know. Probably not as much as they should.”

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

Over the next few days, Leon could see the knowledge that you and he gave to Krauser being put to use. There was more running. More hand to hand. He paired people up in groups of four for sparring. One versus three. Whoever was the lone combatant finished the day with fresh bruises, and by the end of the week, everyone was painted with blues, greens, and purples. The Major had the squad spend many long hours at the shooting range, where he would accept nothing less than perfectly emptying the magazine of a gun into the designated target. 

No matter how far down range Krauser set them up, no matter if they were moving or not, that target was always the head.

“The things you’re going to be facing won’t go down from anything less. And some of them . . . not even then,” Krauser had said, and Leon saw the news unsettle the squad standing at attention around him.

But he didn’t go into detail describing what everyone would be up against. Instead, he just told the squad how you would be in for difficult fights. How you would all have to use whatever was at your disposal.

Pistols, rifles, shotguns . . . 

Krauser didn’t seem to care about running up a munitions tab, because if anyone missed a shot, then he would make them start over with another mag, once theirs ran out. He would keep them after hours, if they couldn’t do it. Some of them even found themselves putting in overtime, staying at the range when they should have been getting lunch. 

You and Leon were almost always putting in overtime. 

Not because you were terrible shots. Far from it. But because, once Leon figured out that Krauser didn’t care about how much ammunition was being lost, he would miss on purpose. One or two shots every mag, Leon would intentionally aim just a little far off. Just enough that Krauser made him stay. Sometimes he would miss naturally, of course, but a lot of the time, he remained at the range of his own accord. Because the more practice he got, the better. The more prepared he was, the better. 

And you . . . well, you’d seen him shoot. It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was throwing on purpose, but when Krauser handed him another mag, both you and the Major shared a look of suspicion. 

Only you received the little grin Leon gave you after, though. 

And just like that, you were miraculously missing shots, too. Not enough to stick out, necessarily, but enough to give you both a few extra minutes of practice. Then one of you would get your perfect round, and the other would delay a few minutes longer and do the same. 

If Krauser suspected anything - which Leon imagined he did - he said nothing to stop it. Just his usual disappointed jabs, and then he would send you and Leon off to a late lunch when you two decided you had enough.

You would meet up back at lunch later, sitting with Williams and Alenko, who you started training with during off hours as well. And when Valeria joined the group, for training and lunch both, Leon was hardly surprised. You’d told him about the deal you’d struck, and how she’d bloodied your nose in your sparring match, but you’d kicked her ass in the end. 

He wished he could have seen that victory, but when Valeria trained with you all, he got a close enough approximation. 

What did surprise Leon about Valeria was that, for the most part, she was restrained enough when it came to poking fun at his relationship with you. He’d expected every other word out of her mouth to tie to some innuendo or implication. And those remarks certainly came, but mostly she was focused on practicing. On fighting. 

As for Williams . . . the tall woman seemed pretty keen to focus on other things. Namely, Valeria. 

Leon smiled when he first noticed it. Wondered if that was how he’d looked in those early days when he watched you fight. 

Hell, he probably still looked that way, he knew. 

But then, even you looked at him with that longing expression sometimes. He caught you when you thought he wasn’t looking, every so often. 

Amidst all the pains of training, all the nightmares and worries, it felt good to be wanted. To be valued and cared for by someone. Even if it was just in little heartbeats of stolen affection. Even if he wished things could be different, sometimes. 

But for what this life was, it wasn’t so bad when the two of you were together. 

Even if those moments were few and far between, in an effort to keep this going. And in those next few days, Leon had precious few moments where the two of you could really be what you wanted to be for each other. He stole kisses from you every so often, always in the evening when no one was looking. He would nip at your neck and press against you for just a moment. Sometimes you would pull him into the shadows and do the same. But there was nothing more. Not yet. Leon knew it was because, frankly, the two of you were still spooked by the whole ordeal with Valeria and Krauser. True to the agreement the two of you had made, you were trying to be cautious. 

And besides, as much as he wanted you, the conversation with Krauser had reminded him well enough of the stakes of the fight you were all preparing for. And more than he wanted you in those brief moments of bliss, he wanted you safe. 

Leon would train hard for that fight. 

He pushed himself hard, thinking of racing through the streets of Raccoon City as he ran the base, or went through the obstacle course. Imagining that each shot he missed was an opportunity for the undead to tear into him. Or someone he was protecting. Each rep of weight training that he pushed through, he thought of needing to be strong enough to face down the inhuman monsters waiting for them. He pushed himself just as you did, and Krauser pushed hardest of all. 

Leon couldn’t say he liked much about the Major, but it was good to see that he was actually, genuinely trying to prepare you all. That you and Leon having to relive part of the worst nights of your lives wasn’t for nothing. 

But still, the Major didn’t tell the rest what they would be facing. Not exactly. There was no debrief where he went into detail about the monsters that Umbrella had made. No preparing the others for skinless horrors, or too-big men that seemed to never die.

Just more training.

And Krauser wasn't stopping at marksmanship and close quarters combat. He taught you all how to choose targets in a group. Covering retreats, moving in to help a wounded comrade. A week in, a truck arrived, and the squad worked together unloading and cataloging it all. It held guns. Sniper rifles, grenade launchers . . . all heavier ordinance than what you’d all been training with so far. There were even some bows, all made of carbon fiber and with mechanical arms. 

“If you can learn to aim a bow, aiming a gun will be no problem,” Krauser said on their first day working with the bows, and then had far too much fun watching you all struggle with the new weapon. 

Not that arrows would be better against the undead than bullets, but Leon knew it wasn’t just about learning how to shoot a bow. It was prep work for the sniper rifles that went untouched, getting them all used to the concept of measuring distance and factoring in wind, gravity, and movement. And suddenly, you and Leon didn’t have to fake missing to spend longer on the range anymore. 

Leon was all too grateful now for pushing himself when it came to strength training, because pulling back that bowstring over and over, knowing he was going to miss and need to start over again, was making his arms shake. On that first day, the entire squad was held up, and you were all sent to the mess hall with only fifteen minutes left of lunch. And by the time they got there, after hours of drawing back a sixty-pound bowstring, in addition to all the heavy-lifting everyone was already doing, most everyone could only barely carry their trays to the tables. 

It made the close quarters combat drills later in the day particularly interesting. Or sad, Leon supposed, because no one put up a good fight. 

But you and Leon, as ever, met after dinner in the training yard. 

Williams and Alenko accompanied you, and Valeria made it clear that she wasn’t going to participate in the sparring, but she was going to watch. And she got a kick out of the sluggish attacks and redirects that you all put on display, each of you too exhausted to fight at the speed you normally would. But you were all still fighting. Williams and Alenko might not have known the extent of the bioweapons under Umbrella’s control - if they knew anything beyond vague concepts at all - but they were training hard. 

And it made Leon ponder something - something he brought up to you when the two of you found a moment alone.   

“How much do you think they know?” he asked when you were out of earshot of the buildings and the guard posts, looking over at you. “About the bioweapons, Umbrella . . . all of it.” 

“I don’t know. Probably not as much as they should.” You answered quickly. Like you’d been thinking about it, too. All the intel the two of you had given Krauser, all the specifics, and he still hadn’t told anyone at large. He’d adjusted his training structure, true, but he hadn’t sat the squad down to tell them exactly what they might be up against. 

And it was weighing on Leon, because he didn’t see how the government could train people to take down Umbrella if they didn’t show those people what they were up against. 

“Do you think Krauser’s gonna tell them?” he asked, looking over at you, seeing you deep in thought. 

“He knows more than the government wants him to,” you say after a moment. “If he tells everyone on base, they’ll go for him. For us, too.” It made sense. The Major knew things he shouldn’t have, and there were only two places on base he could have gotten that information from. Two people. 

But still . . . “Does that matter?” Leon asked, his brows cinching together, his gaze fixed on you through the darkness. “So what if they get mad at him, or at us? If they’re gonna throw us at these things, the people we’re fighting with deserve to know what they’re facing.” 

You frowned, your eyes trailing off somewhere. You stopped walking, shaking your head. “He’s not gonna let us go blind. He’ll tell them.” 

“Then why hasn’t he already? It’s been a week. The longer he waits, the less prepared everyone is.” He could feel himself getting heated, his frustration with Krauser, but here it was, bleeding into this interaction with you. 

And you met it with frustration of your own. “He’s got to have reasons. He’s got reasons for everything he does-” 

“Like putting edged knives in our hands and making us think we’re going to fight with them?” He wasn’t quite sure where the words came from. One minute he was thinking of the need to prepare his fellow recruits for what’s out there, and the next, all he could do was remember the cruelty of that lesson. The way the Major had intentionally faced you against something that had traumatized you - even if Leon knew you would loathe that description of what had happened to you. 

“We’re not going to be using training knives out in the field-” 

“But he didn’t have to do that. It was fucked-”

“Leon, all of the shit we’re going to be fighting out there is fucked-”

“I know that!” Leon hissed, shaking his head. “And if he can make us think we’re going to make each other bleed for a training exercise, then he can fucking tell them what they’re up against.” 

The longer-lasting light of spring let Leon see the way your eyes flashed, but whatever reply you were going to give was swallowed down after a moment, and you looked away. Like you we’re sorting out your thoughts, and Leon knew it was because you agreed with him - but you also trusted Krauser. That was what made you repeat yourself when you looked back up at him a few seconds later. “You’re right,” you nodded, saying it through tight lips. “But he wouldn’t have asked us for all of that info if he didn’t plan on relaying it. He’ll tell them.”

But Leon wasn’t convinced. Not entirely. “You put a lot of faith in him.” 

You pursed your lips, and for the first time, Leon thought he saw some give. Like you were more conflicted about Krauser’s actions than you let on. Even so, there was conviction there, too. “He saved my life, once,” you said eventually, your voice quiet. 

And Leon, after a moment, nodded. “The night in Finland. I know.” He supposed it was time to come clean about that. 

A look of surprise pinched your brows together and your eyes widened a touch. “I didn’t tell you that,” you said, and then your expression changed, because you realized who had told Leon. 

“Krauser did,” Leon admitted. 

You stared at him for a moment, and Leon worried that you might have been angry. Not necessarily at him, but at the Major. Even if he thought Krauser was an asshole, even if Leon disagreed with half of his methods, he didn’t want to compromise a trust you’d built. 

But then you forced out a breath of a laugh, rolling your eyes. “See? Guess you don’t have to worry about Krauser keeping information to himself.” 

Leon cracked a smile then, shifting his weight onto one leg, feeling tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying fade. “Maybe not.” 

“What the hell made him tell you that?” you asked, threading your thumbs in the belt loops of your fatigue pants, looking at him in confusion. 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to explain that he’d had that conversation with the Major after that first kiss. When you’d asked for space and Leon had dealt with it by throwing himself head-first into training. Let alone that Krauser had, in essence, told Leon that you and he needed to get each other off your asses and deal with the shit that had been haunting you. “He told me that you and I had a lot in common,” Leon eventually settled on that explanation. “That we both needed to get past what happened and focus on the here and now.” 

That incredulous look on your face only grew, then, but it was soon replaced by amusement. “Funny. He’s said something similar to me.” 

Leon smiles a little, then. “Easier said than done, I guess.” 

“Easier said than done,” you agreed, looking down for a moment before going on. “Hard to focus on the present when you’re training to fight the things that keep you awake at night, I guess.” 

The air between the two of you grew heavy, as it always did when your past or his came up. And it was easier to bear its weight when there were two of you. But Leon could tell that something still troubled you. He didn’t have to wait long to learn what it was. 

“How much did Krauser tell you? About the base?” 

And then, Leon felt his throat constrict, remembering the few details that Krauser had given him about Finland and about the base you’d been stationed at. “Not much. Just that it was burned down. And that . . .” he didn’t want to say it aloud, but whether it went unspoken or not wouldn’t change the fact of the matter. “And that you were the only survivor.” He wasn’t sure what his expression might be conveying, then. Only that he watched you for your reaction carefully, never taking his eyes off you. 

And he wanted to reach for you when he saw the pain in your eyes. 

You nodded; your jaw set tight as it so often was when you were upset. But when you blinked, Leon could see resolve there, not just pain. “And we weren’t even up against all the shit you saw,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I don’t want that to happen again.” You stepped closer to Leon but looked back at the base. Towards where the barracks were. “I do believe that Krauser’s going to tell them what they’re up against, but if you’re worried, then talk to him. And if for some reason, he’s not planning on telling them . . .”

“Then we will,” Leon nodded. You didn’t argue. 

You did offer him a small smile, though, as the two of you continued your walk. “We’re on a fast-track to getting court-martialed, you and me.” 

Leon chuckled. “Didn’t peg you for being such a troublemaker.” 

“You should have seen me when I first enlisted. I was a pain in the ass.” 

“But you still made Sergeant.” He looked over at you, his hair brushing against his eyelashes on the one side. He didn’t bother hiding the pride in his gaze, even if it maybe wasn’t his pride to give. 

It made you smile, and that was all that mattered. 

“I was lucky my Captain was forgiving of my bullshit,” you shrugged, a fond smile curling your lips. And then, that smile turned to something else. Something distant. Mournful. 

“He sounds like a good man.” 

“He was.”

And Leon knew then that your Captain had been among the dead in Finland. That he was one of your ghosts. 

And then he remembered that third dog tag around your neck. The one he’d glimpsed in those early days. And he wondered what name it was, stamped in the metal. He wondered which of your ghost's names you wore in silver. 

“I’ll tell you about him, some day.” Your words were almost wistful. A promise that he didn’t need you to make, but one he valued anyway. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Leon nodded. 

It was a risk, you both knew it, but you took his hand for a moment as you walked back to the barracks, squeezing tight. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Hey gang sorry for the delay!

[sl-walker]

Preview...

...from the next yet-unposted chapter of Stardust.

--

“I could eat at least three horses right now,” Booster said, looking over his array of plates and bowls, completely undeterred by the fact that it wasn’t even seven in the morning yet and the only people as awake and ready to go as him were the various geriatrics in the IHOP getting an early-bird special.  The way he saw it, caffeine existed for a glorious purpose and while he hadn’t needed any to get moving today, he had been in an insomnia-hangover himself a worrying number of times and therefore he held no mercy (and only conditional compassion) for those who were dawdling on waking up. “Maybe three and a half.”

“Oh no, Secretariat goes cannibal and destroys his brethren in his haste to fill the empty pit of his stomach,” Ted fired back, though it was with laughter in his voice as he clutched his mug of coffee like he’d shank whoever might try to take it. “Thoroughbreds everywhere react to the scandal tonight on CLTV in a stunning exposé!”

Brenda, Paco and Jaime were all nodding over their plates, looking like they hadn’t even actually woken up to roll out of bed.  Even then, Brenda picked her head up and squinted blearily at Ted. “Aren’t thoroughbreds the high-strung horses that keel over if you look at them cross-eyed?” she asked.

“I literally just asked that myself yesterday!” Booster said, pointing at her with his fork and well-speared sausage.  “Gotta say, I’m not sure how I feel about being compared to a critter that dies so easily.”  He was, however, a little more worried that the ‘high-strung’ part might be too on-target for his comfort.

“S’okay, I might have to kill you for being so awake right now,” Jaime mumbled, teetering over sideways until he was tucked halfway between Booster’s shoulder and the back of the curved booth. “And so happy about it.”

“It’s not my fault you stayed out so late.”  Still, Booster set his fork down long enough to reach across himself and lightly ruffle Jaime’s hair in something like a mixed apology and commiseration. “C’mon, today’s gonna be great.”

“You were out running by 5:30, ese, humans don’t do that,” Paco said, before shoving his plate of bacon and eggs away so he could fold his arms on the table and drop his head down onto them.  “Not normal, sane humans.”

All things being equal, Booster was an early-riser by nature, if not always factually; that he’d slept as well as he had the night before meant he felt pretty amazing right now, though. “In fairness, Paco, you were still awake when I left to go running.”

Paco groaned and shook his head against his arms. “Only ‘cause you were channeling Maria von Trapp in the kitchen.”

Booster opened his mouth to ask who the hell that was, but Ted shook his head with a grin and held up a finger before pulling his phone out and aiming at them.  When Booster raised his eyebrows in question, Ted mouthed, ‘Bianca,’ then took a shot of him and Jaime, the latter of whom might have fallen back asleep in the less-than-a-minute since he’d last spoken.  Booster made sure to beam for the camera, though, because he knew it would make a funny contrast to the probably-asleep teenager using him as a blackout blind and pillow.

Whatever Bianca texted back must have made Ted happy, because he smiled.

“Who’s Maria von Trapp?” Booster asked, before diving back into his breakfast.

Brenda finally managed to rally enough to drag her coffee close and start into her pancakes. “Who hasn’t seen the Sound of Music?”

“I don’t think they have whimsical anti-Nazi musicals in his time,” Ted said, sliding his phone over, presumably so Booster could both see the picture and Bianca’s response.

Booster dropped his fork again just to snatch it; the picture was admittedly very cute.  Bianca’s string of emojis in answer was every bit as cute.  Booster quickly sent the picture to his own phone and then slid Ted’s back to him. “I wouldn’t be against watching some whimsical anti-Nazi musical,” he said, on a delay.

“If you show him that, we are never, ever, ever getting back together,” Paco said, rolling his head to the side towards his-- maybe girlfriend?  Ex?  Who even knew, Booster couldn’t keep up with it, it seemed to change by the day.  “We would never stop hearing it.”

“Oooh, incentive,” Brenda snarked back.  Then, casual as can be, she wet a fingertip in her mouth and stuck it, wiggling, into Paco’s ear.

The subsequent shriek made every single person in the vicinity -- regardless of their hearing aids or lack thereof -- jump half out of their skin.  A line cook in the back swore something that sounded Eastern European in origin.  Jaime jolted out of his hiding spot and Booster was certain the reason the kid didn’t armor up and have a cannon cycling, ready to go, was because both Booster and Ted immediately reassured him that it was safe.

Brenda had turned fire-engine red.  Paco was glaring at her while swiping at his ear.  Jaime was looking around with his mouth hanging open, clearly having lost the plot.

Ted chewed his bottom lip, obviously about to bust up, even as someone managerial-looking started in their direction, IHOP nametag glinting menacingly in the sun.

Booster put on his most charming smile and said, “Perfect timing!  Can we get the check?  And some boxes?”

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chapter 2

round one

2 september 1995

Mattheo's POV

I'm late. Second class of the term and I'm already late. Not that anything important is done in the first lesson of term, just lectures about O.W.L.s and starting to make something of ourselves. Personally, I'll pass.

I move leisurely through the now empty corridors of Hogwarts as I make my way to McGonagall's class room. Some first year runs past me, probably lost, and I sigh. Everyone is always so happy to come back to the castle in the fall. Sure Hogwarts is better than being at home but I'm still counting down the days until I'm completely free. I reach the doors to the Transfiguration classroom and check my watch, 5 minutes late. I shoulder open the door and step into the classroom. At the noise, everyone's heads turn to me.

"Mr. Riddle! You are late. 5 points from Slytherin," McGonagall's voice cuts through the air.

"Apologies, Professor," I say dryly, kicking the door closed behind me and scan the room for empty seats.

"Well come in, let's not delay any further. There is an empty seat up here next to Miss Potter," McGonagall says, turning back to the papers in her hand. My eyes find the empty seat right next to Miss Perfect herself. I sigh and drop into the seat next to her, eyeing her carefully. Her jaw is clenches and her shoulders tight, clearly making an effort to ignore my presence.

Euphemia Potter. Gryffindor Princess and Little Miss Perfect. She and her brother are the most self righteous people I've ever met. When the Potters break rules, they win house points, awards and are called heroes; when Slytherins break the same rules, we lose house points and get our arses thrown in detention. Euphemia spends her free time running around with the Weasley Twins, setting pranks and causing havoc for the rest of the student body, in particular Slytherins. But the princess never gets caught and if she does, she just bats her eyelashes, tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder and is off the hook. Her brother isn't any better. I spent most of last term being blamed for opening the Chamber of Secrets (which I had never heard of in my life) but innocent little Harry Potter just happens to actually find it, kill a basilisk out of pure luck and starts telling everyone he saw the ghost of a young Tom Riddle, my late father. All just in time for the end of term. Two words: Dragon Shit.

I look at Euphemia out of the corner of my eye, watching her studiously listen to whatever McGonagall is droning on about. The worst part of Euphemia? She's drop dead gorgeous. Most of the guys in this school want her and she fucking knows it. And no matter how much I hate her, I can't deny that the curve of her figure, the fullness of her lips, and the way her auburn hair highlights the bright green of her eyes is about as perfect of an appearance as you can get. As she listens to the lecture, she fiddles with the ring on her left pointer finer and I catch a glimpse of the infamous lighting scar on her wrist, the one she shares with her brother. Although I don't understand why his is on his forehead and hers is on my wrist.

Euphemia and I have been at odds since our third year. Before that, she was quiet and more shy; preferring to study in the library and read more than anything else. I didn't like her then, but she was tolerable. She and her friends stayed out of my way and we minded our own business. Third year rolls around, however, and Harry comes to Hogwarts and all anyone can talk about is the Potter siblings. That year, Euphemia went from a quiet and studious person, to the bane of my existence. She'd joined the Quidditch team, quickly becoming an impressive chaser, and come out of her shell over the summer and suddenly guys wanted her and girls wanted to be her. Me? I just wanted to kill her. She got it into her head that I was the one trying to get some magic stone Dumbledore had hidden in the castle to bring back my father, as if I want that, and basically threatened me. 

Yes my father was Voldemort and yes, sometimes I use that fact to my advantage to get my way but I don't buy into any of the shit my father stood for. I may not remember him, but the scars on my mother's back tell me all I need to know about the piece of shit. I don't really care about blood purity or any of that crap but to have any kind of power in Slytherin, you better at least act like you do. Especially if your last name is Riddle.

Euphemia turns her head suddenly, eyes meeting mine as she raises her eyebrow at me. Shit, she caught me staring. I hold her eyes for a moment before turning back to McGonagall. She turns back to front too and sighs slightly, as if me looking at her actually bothers her.

After a very long and dry lecture by McGonagall about her expectations and plan for the year, the period ends. Euphemia stands quickly, moving to stand with her groupies. The Weasley twins-- I couldn't tell them apart if my life depended on it and they are equally irritating so really what's the point--stare daggers at me before they turn to leave the classroom with Potter. I sigh and roll my eyes, turning to my friends, gathered out in the hall. Elladora, Evan, and Theo are out in the hall. I make eye contact with Theo and give him and nod as I approach.

"Oh!" Elladora exclaims as she pretends to faint into Evan's arms. Evan and Ella laugh loudly. Ever since hearing the rumor that both the Potters fainted on the train yesterday began circulating, Ella has been relentless. She despises Euphemia more than anyone. "Salazar! How could anyone be so pathetic?" Ella turns to face Euphemia, whose face is stoic although her eyes are fiery. She levels Ella with a defiant stare and turns away rolling her eyes, seemingly unaffected.

"Aw you hurt the princess' feelings," Evan laughs cruelly, nudging Ella with his shoulder as we start making out way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Good! She's so pathetic. Can you imagine fainting because you're too afraid of a dementor? Big and scary Potter is finally showing her true colors," Ella continues, laughing maniacally.

"Ella, stop! Dementors are horrid no matter how brave you are," Astoria pipes up, joining us in the hall. Astoria, unlike the rest of us, is friends with Potter and often defends her to the rest of us. 

"Still, it is kinda funny," Theo adds as we sit down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

"You don't even know if its true," Astoria argues.

"So what? As long as it gets under the princess' skin!" Ella laughs with Evan.

"Get's under who's skin?" Lorenzo asks, taking a seat next to me.

"Don't ask," I grumble, not wanting Euphemia Potter to infiltrate my brain anymore than necessary.

"Euphemia Potter," Theo supplies to Enzo before turning his gaze to me as I grab some food from the center of the table. "What's got your wand in a knot? Sitting next to the hottest girl in school messing with your head already?"

I flip Theo off and take a bit of my apple.

"You're sitting next to her now?" Enzo asks, trying to hide his surprise.

"I got to class late. Only desk open."

"Matt, you're already gathering tardies? We've had two classes!" Astoria exclaims, looking at me disappointedly.

"Sorry, Mum," I retort sarcastically.

"So not only are you going to be doing rounds with Potter twice a week, but you're sitting next to her in classes now too?" Evan smirks, probably concocting a little story to entertain himself.

"He's going soft," coos Ella mockingly.

"Fuck off, Ella," I say, my temper starting to rise causing me to grind my teeth.

"They're gonna fuck!" Evan pronounces, causing Enzo and Theo to laugh.

"HA! I'll take that bet," Enzo laughs though a bite of food. I level Enzo with a glare, causing him to raise his hands in mock surrender.

"C'mon Matt, you can't deny you want a piece of that!" Evan outlines the shape of a woman with his hands, making lewd faces as he does.

"She's not a pie and you're disgusting," Astoria deadpans.

"Euphemia Potter is nothing but a spoiled brat. You can have my piece, Ev," I grumble, grabbing my bag and standing. I've had enough tormenting for one day and I still have to deal with prefect rounds tonight. I need some quiet. 

✦                                                                                         ✦                                                                                            ✦

Later that evening, I emerge from my room, needing to meet Euphemia for our first prefect rounds. I ignore someone calling my name as I make my way through the common room and push my way through the Slytherin dorm entrance. Standing, directly on the other side of the corridor, is Euphemia Potter. "Good let's go," I say curtly and continue walking down the hall. The first hour passes agonizingly slow. A part from a few words from Potter and some grunts of acknowledgement, we pass the time in tense silence. I watch the girl from the side of my eye. At some point during the day, she pulled her long auburn hair back from her face and into a ponytail but her uniform is as prim and perfect as it was this morning. 

"Stop staring at me," she says suddenly, not turning to look at me.

"I wasn't," I grumble. 

"Oh good, you can still speak. I was getting worried you had lost your command of the English language," she says, her tone haunty as her eyes flick to me for a moment. 

"Just not willing to share my talents with the likes of you." She rolls her eyes in response and turns away, peering down a dark corridor as we pass by. "Did you really faint?" I say suddenly and, to be honest, I'm not really sure why. She keeps walking but her posture stiffens as if readying for a blow. 

"You've barely made a sound all night and you open with that? What, have you been working up the nerve to ask?" 

"Did you?" I press. While I admit I do enjoy riling Potter up, there's a genuine curiosity there too. 

"Why are you asking?" She asks, stopping to turn to face me, her arms crossed over her chest. She looks up at me, her expression guarded and defiant. 

"Why are are you avoiding the question?" I challenge. Her jaw flexes as her eyes search my face and she takes a measured breath. 

"Yes, I did and I'm not ashamed. And no matter how much you and your friends try to make me feel ashamed I won't." Euphemia speaks quickly. I didn't actually think she'd admit it and I can't hide the smirk forming on my face. 

"Never seen you admit a weakness before, Princess," I chuckle, continuing our walk of the corridors. 

"Don't call me princess!" She snaps after me, trailing along in my wake. "And it is not a weakness." 

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, princess," I retort, enjoying the reaction I'm getting. 

"Did you even see the dementor? I bet it didn't even come close to you," she grumbles, catching up to me. I don't respond. Truthfully, my friends and I didn't see it and didn't even know why the train had stopped until we were almost at the station but I'll be cursed before I tell her that. "You didn't did you?" Euphemia continues to press, chuckling when I don't respond. "Godric, that is so typical of you lot. Making fun of things you know nothing about. Do you ever-" 

"Shut up, Potter. You don't know anything about me!" I snap, grinding my teeth. 

"Oh yes, and you know all about me, right? You know everything. The great Mattheo Riddle, who is smarter and better than everyone else. No one else could possible suffer because you have the monopoly on pain!" She rants, sarcasm and disdain leaking into her tone. 

"Oh like you know pain," I snap, "The Perfect Potters have it so hard! Everyone loves you and lets you do whatever you want." 

"You don't know anything about me or what I've been through!" She yells, turning to face me, anger and fire in her eyes. 

"Please! Don't give me the whole orphan act, I bet you don't even remember any of it!" I yell back. I raise my hand, waving it through the air as if to brush her off, but as I do, the perfect and fearless Euphemia Potter does something I don't expect. She flinches. 

Just a for a second, her shoulders tighten and she stiffens, as if preparing for a blow, and fear flashes in her eyes. But then its gone, hidden back under the mask of anger and loathing. I lower my hand slowly, examining her face. We watch each other for a long moment before she takes a step towards me, glaring up at me defiantly. "I remember plenty." 

She holds my gaze for a long moment before turning away and continuing down the hall. We walk in tense silence for the rest of our shift. As round the last corner, Potter turns to head up the flight of stairs on our left. "Meet me outside Gryffindor Common Room on Thursday," she calls over her shoulder as she stars up the stairs, not sparing a glance back my way as she walks out of sight.  

[ageofbajabule]

Roommates | Chapter 5

picture creds to samsfallingsky on ig.

Danny x F! Reader

Word Count: Roughly 5.3k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of cheating, some Violence, Alcohol

If you haven’t read part 4

If you want to join my taglist fill this form out🫶🏻

Author’s Note: Hello everyone!! Chapter 5 is finally here! I’m so sorry for the delay! And I hope you all enjoy this, and Roommates is soon coming to an end…🥹🩵

Her POV

After shutting the door you sat on the couch crying to yourself after hearing Danny say that. You had thought he had changed, but you were proven wrong again. Would he ever change? Or would he constantly give you the hot and cold effect.

Who cares, you’re here to work. Not to make a relationship work, this should strictly be professional. But you couldn’t help but think at the idea of being with Danny. Sure he was an asshole, but deep down you knew the real Danny was in there somewhere buried and asking for help. But how would you get that Danny back?

Danny’s POV

Once you heard the door click shut you knew you were done for. She had heard what you said, but it wasn’t true… She wasn’t a quick fuck. She was more than that, but she wouldn’t believe a word out of you now.

“So, Texas is next up?” You asked Sam, “Yeah, Fort Worth. It’s like a 9 hour drive I think. So plenty of sleep on the bus.” He chuckled softly, walking Rose to the tour bus. “Yeah…” You sighed softly stepping onto the tour bus. You shuffled your way to your bunk bed, placing your shoes by the small table on the bus. You slid into your bunk, closing the curtain getting under the blankets letting sleep overcome you.

Her POV

You finished making sure everything was stored away, before heading onto your tour bus with some of the crew immediately going to bed.

The drive to the next state was a bit bumpy. Considering you’ve never really been on a tour bus before. But you also didn’t sleep much after hearing those words from Danny. After all if he truly thought you were a quick fuck, you could always talk to Gabe. Since he wouldn’t leave you alone last night, two can play at that game.

If there was one thing you could do, it was to piss Danny off. And what better than to piss him off with some guy you truly weren’t interested in.

The buses had rolled up to the hotel, you had gathered your things making way into the main lobby. Communicating with the receptionist on getting everyone’s room keys ready.

The guys had come stumbling into the hotel, groggy and sleepy. “Morning guys.” You smiled softly at them, as you gathered their room keys. “So we have two days off until the show. I know today you guys have free will to do whatever your heart desires. But I do know there is dinner tonight with the crew and everyone. Then tomorrow you guys have an interview in the morning, and a small photoshoot in the afternoon. Soundcheck will be the morning of the show as usual.”

The guys had all nodded. “Great work Y/N! I don't think we've ever had a more prepared worker.” Jake had chuckled lightly, smiling at you. “I’m just doing my job. And don’t want to mess anything up.” You laughed lightly, seeing Danny steal a glance at you. You looked away for a moment. “Uh, so here are your guy’s keys to your rooms. You are all on the same floor, it should be like that for this whole tour, and then I will be in a room at the end of the hall.” You passed each of them their room keys.

Once you got to Danny you handed it to him slowly then turned away. “I’m sure you guys want to freshen up and such before heading out for the day. There is a zoo that I figured everyone would probably like to check out then. So, once you’re all ready just text the group chat and we’ll meet up in the lobby.” You smiled softly, “Oh I hope this zoo has penguins!” Josh said excitedly. You giggled softly, smiling at him. “I’m sure they do, but for now I’m gonna go freshen up.” You parted ways from the guys.

As you walked away with your bag, you felt like a set of eyes were burning through you. And sure enough when you entered the elevator, as you turned around you caught Danny staring. You looked off to the side, pressing the button on the elevator to take you to your floor.

➳

It was around 3 in the afternoon. The guys had messaged the group chat that they were ready to head to the zoo. In which everyone met in the lobby. Josh is wearing a brown jumpsuit with his new society symbol. Along with Jake wearing his go to button up shirt, with very few buttons buttoned, and a pair of worn jeans. Sam wore a very mismatched outfit, and Danny opted to wear black jeans and a yellow muscle tee. You couldn’t help but look at him, he was still undeniably attractive even after what he said to you…

“Ready to go?” You smiled at them, they all nodded piling into the van. You opted in sitting between Jake and Josh, letting Danny and Sam sit next to each other. You striked a conversation with the twins immediately, talking about the upcoming outfits for this tour and the ideas they had in mind.

While Danny tried to have a conversation with Sam about something back home. Danny would try to steal glances at you, but you just ignored him as much as you could by engaging in conversation with the twins more.

Once you all had arrived you exited the car, and Gabe had come to the zoo from another van with the rest of the crew. “Hey Y/N!” He had walked up to you, “Hey Gabe…” You shot a smile at him, deciding to head up to the entrance you had all paid your admission to get into the zoo. “What are you most excited to see?” You smiled while keeping a conversation going with Gabe.

“Um, I think the giraffe’s.” He chuckled softly, walking close by your side. You knew this would definitely set Danny off.

The rest of the day in the zoo was spent pretty much with Gabe, however you noticed Danny had been lingering behind the two of you with Sam beside him. You had opted to use the restroom breaking off from the group saying you’d catch up with them later.

Once you used the restroom you had come out, to find Danny waiting outside. “Hi Danny.” You said in an annoyed tone. “Y/N let me ex-“ “No Danny. There is nothing to explain. I think you’ve pretty much made it clear last night that I’m just an easy fuck.” You yelled at him, but only loud enough between the two of you.

“But you’re not!” He threw his hands up. “Really? Cause it sure as hell seemed like it? Why would you say that if you truly don’t mean it?” You put your hands on your hips. “It’s not as easy as you might think.” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Let me guess, is it ‘Bro Code’” You looked at him, and he looked back. “You can’t be serious Daniel.”

You laughed nervously shaking your head. “Wow, really living up to the fuck boy type aren’t ya?” You walked up to him, “In case you haven’t noticed, that’s not gonna fly with me. I know you’re better than that, Josie even said so.” You scoffed walking away, feeling him pull your wrist to pull you to him.

“I can show you I’m not like the rest of them…” He held your face close to his. “Danny…” You looked down, but he tilted your chin up to face him. “Give me a chance.” He had pleading eyes. “Danny… I can’t. You’ve already hurt me so much…” You felt the tears burning your eyes. “So you would rather run to Gabe…” He scoffed, pulling away from you.

“It’s not like that Danny.” You looked at him. “Then what’s it like? Cause to me it seems like you have some sort of interest in him.” He chuckled, “Gabe is just a friend. Nothing more. I don’t even find him-“ “Find him attractive or find him interesting? It’s because you want me…” Danny pulled you to him. “Please. Give me a chance.” You pushed him away slowly, “I think you need to work on yourself before trying to make something work between us…” You sniffled, feeling your tears fall.

You felt him let go of you. “I’m sorry…” You wiped your tears walking away from him, going to an exhibit of Wolves. You found Josh looking out at them, you made yourself not look like a crying mess before clearing your throat letting Josh know you were there.

“Oh, Hi Y/N.” He smiled softly, “Hi Josh…” You stood next to him. “I’m assuming you and Daniel finished talking”, he shifted his gaze towards you. “How did-“ “It’s honestly not hard to tell when your brother is in love with someone, and they love them back…” He chuckled softly. “What is it?” He smiled softly, “I’m all ears.”

You let out a small sigh, “It’s just. One minute he is this sweet amazing guy, and then he just becomes cold… Like as if I’m nothing to him, but just another girl in his eyes?” You sat on the bench, as Josh then sat next to you.

“I’m not excusing his actions… By any means. But, Daniel has… He’s been through the ringer, with his last relationship especially.” He scratched the back of his head. “Josie didn’t particularly fill me in, not that she needs to. But Daniel just…” You put your head down.

“You remember Jasmine?” Josh put a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him, nodding slowly. “Heard of her…” You made a half smile.

“Well, the reason Danny is the way he is. Is all because of her. She filled all these thoughts of lies into his head. Trying to make him the villain… But in the end it was all her…” He spoke softly, “Did she…” “Did she cheat? Is that what you are asking?” He looked at you, you nodded. “Yes… And tried to say that it was because he didn’t give her enough attention… That all he cared about was the music and the boys… But Danny really did balance out his every day to day life. He gave her everything he could.” He sighed softly.

You looked at Josh, “So… Danny. Has been beating himself up ever since?” Josh nodded at you, you felt your heart drop. “Josh… I.” He shook his head, “There was no way you could’ve ever known… Danny doesn’t like to talk about her. And I understand why. But… He needs to move past it.” He sighed softly, you nodded. “If you wanna know more… Maybe you should talk to Danny. I think he’s scared of loving you. As you can tell, last time didn’t go so well.”

“Come on. We should get going, we have dinner reservations tonight. And should head back to freshen up.” He stood up offering a hand for you to get up.

You took it standing up, “Thank you, Josh…” You smiled at him as he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “Of course.” You smiled softly, hugging him tightly before letting him go.

➳

Dinner was at a secluded yet expensive restaurant. The boys insisted on dining here to have a relaxing night, and to treat their crew to a well deserved dinner as they claimed. You had opted into wearing a sleek black dress with an open back. Fitting all of your curves, and opted to wear red strappy heels to pop out the outfit.

You had went in a separate van from the guys arriving with other crew mates filing into the building as you were guided to the table you would be dining at. You heard someone clear their throat and saw Danny’s head snap up to look at you, you caught a glimpse of his eyes blushing and looking away for a mere moment to try and avoid eye contact.

Then Josh chimed in, “Y/N you can sit next to me.” You smiled softly, mentally thanking him and sat down next to him which was a couple seats away from Danny. You adjusted yourself in your seat, looking down at Danny, catching him staring at you again. You shot your eyes back to look at Jake across from you. “So Jake, did you enjoy the zoo today?” You smiled softly engaging in small talk.

“Yeah, it was nice to see so many animals.” He chuckled softly, “Although I do feel quite bad for some of them… Some should just be left in their natural habitat. But I can understand why some are there, better taken care of?” He shook his head, “Sorry I’m rambling…” You shook your head, “It’s quite alright Jake.” You smiled softly.

Gabe had taken a seat next to Jake, which you looked up at him smiling softly. “Nice of you to join us, Gabe.” He nodded, smiling at everyone. “Wouldn’t miss it.” You heard a chair move on the floor, indicating someone was getting up. You looked up to find Danny standing up and walking away, “What’s his issue?” You heard Jake ask, and Josh looked over at Sam raising his hands. “He said he had an important phone call to take.” Sam shrugged, you knew Danny didn’t have an important phone call. He was just pissed to see you interacting with Gabe.

You leaned over to whisper in Josh’s ear. “I think it’s because of Gabe…” You pulled back to see Josh nod his head and motion for you to go. You sighed softly, standing up from your seat. “Going to use the ladies room.” You smiled softly, walking away from the table making way towards the hallway of the restrooms to find Danny standing at the end of the hallway.

He in fact did have a phone call. One hand in his hair pulling it nervously, his back was facing you. He hadn’t known you were there yet. “Josie… I fucked up. I don’t know what to do.” He sighed, “I mean. I didn’t do anything to entirely fuck it up, but I just keep fucking up. And I’m trying not to.” You heard him mumble some ‘okays’ and ‘yeah’ then he finally said his goodbyes and thanked his sister before getting off the phone.

You played it off that you had just made your way to the hallway. “Danny?” You called his name just above a whisper. He turned on his heels, “Look, I’m not entirely sure it's smart for us to have another conversation. Especially after how today went…” He looked down at you.

“Well we need to have a conversation. Maybe not here, but some time and some where…” You played with your hands. “Y/N…” “Danny. Please.” You looked up at him, pulling his hand into yours. “We can’t keep doing this…” He caressed your cheek. “I want you to be happy, and I’m scared I can’t do that for you.” He looked at you with hurt in his eyes.

“Danny… I-“ He pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips softly. You wrapped your small hands around his, kissing him back softly then pulled away. “Tomorrow. We will talk. I don’t want alcohol to have an influence in any of this conversation…” He rested his forehead against yours. You nodded slowly, “Tomorrow. Breakfast after your interview?” You giggled softly. He nodded, “Sounds like a plan darling.” He kissed your forehead softly, ��We should probably head back.” He chuckled and walked away first, you gave it a little bit of time then made your way back sitting next to Josh again.

“So…?” Josh leaned over to your ear. “Tomorrow he and I will talk…” You whispered back, smiling softly. He smiled softly, “See. It’ll work out.” He chuckled softly.

For the rest of dinner you kept stealing glances with Danny, shooting a smile and blushing from the small acts. After a couple glasses of wine, everyone was ready to head back to the hotel. Josh suggested you rode back with them. You had sat in the back between Danny and Sam. Sam was busy talking on the phone with his girlfriend Natalie, while the twins had their own small talk. Danny played your hand that rested on your thigh.

Intertwining your fingers together, he rubbed his thumb across your hand. You looked down at your hand then back at him, smiling softly. Then Sam had finished his phone conversation which made Danny and you slip your hands away. Your heart ached, longing to be able to show your love for him… But you understood why.

➳

Next morning came. The day was filled with two interviews in the morning. Leaving some time for the guys, before their photoshoot in the afternoon.

You had done a check-up on them making sure they were awake. You had knocked on their doors earning very quick responses that they were in fact awake and ready for the day. Lastly you had come up to Danny’s room, when he answered he was just finishing getting ready. “Morning, beautiful.” He smiled softly, “Morning…” You couldn’t stop yourself from blushing. “Just checking that you are all ready to go. Van will be here in a few minutes to take you guys over to some radio station I believe it is. For your interview as a band, and then a short one with Jake.” You smiled softly.

“Don’t forget our breakfast together then…” He smiled softly, you nodded your head. “Trust me, I didn’t forget. Could hardly sleep last night because of the nerves.” You giggled softly. He pulled you in closely to kiss your lips softly. You kissed him back, then slowly pulled away. “Listen we can’t let anybody see us until this is all figured out…” You sighed softly with a little bit of hurt. You wanted to express how you felt to Danny in front of everyone. But you wanted to make sure you heard everything before biting the bullet.

“Yeah… I’m sorry.” He put his head down scratching the back of his neck. “It's okay, I just don't want to be a secret is all.” She rubbed his cheek with her hand. He nodded, “Well I should probably head out, before I get yelled at for being late.” He chuckled softly, you nodded. Just let me know when you’re back and we’ll go for our breakfast.” You smiled softly, walking back towards your room.

➳

The early morning of the guys' events went by rather quickly. Danny had sent you a text signaling he was waiting in the hotel lobby for you. You fixed your outfit, and adjusted your hair before heading out to meet him in the lobby. That’s when you bumped into Gabe. “Oh shit, sorry…” You looked up at him apologetically. “Oh it’s alright. Hey, um did you want to go out tonight?” You looked at him and gave a light smile. “I’m sorry Gabe… Not tonight. I think the guys had made plans and asked me to join them.” They hadn’t but you needed something to go with.

“Oh, alright. Well if plans don’t turn out, I’m here.” He chuckled lightly walking away. You nodded and made way to the lobby, walking up to Danny as he waved you down. “Sorry, I bumped into Gabe on the way down here…” You sighed softly. “Is he still trying to make moves on my girl?”

You blushed at ‘my girl’, “I’m sorry, my what now?” You giggled softly. Danny wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close. “My girl…”

“Come on lover boy, I’m starving.” You swatted his arm playfully. He chuckled following behind you. Luckily there was a breakfast joint not too far from the hotel. It was within walking distance, you both decided to sit on the little balcony outside. It was only you two seated out there.

“This is a cute little place.” You smiled softly. “Not as cute as you.” He smirked, looking over at you. You scoffed playfully, “Good one…” You shook your head giggling softly as you blushed.

“Alright. So, what do you want to know?” He opened the menu, observing it and deciding on what he wanted to order. “I want to know about her…” You looked up at him with soft eyes. He met yours, his body tensed a little bit. “What is there to know…” He closed the menu, fidgeting with the edges. “Well Josh told me the basics… But said I should talk to you more about it. I know she hurt you… And filled your head with lies…” You put your hand across the table to grab his. He pulled his hand back slowly.

“Danny…” “Y/N… She is in the past for a fucking reason.” He said through gritted teeth. “Daniel, I’m just trying to figure out why you’ve been acting like you have been towards me.” You snapped at him. “I’ve been acting towards you?” He smirked, “Yeah, you’ve been acting like an asshole!”

“I have?” You watched as Danny sucked in a breath, his eyes looked tortured. Almost as if he was having a battle within himself. “It’s not that easy to explain.” He looks at you with hurt in his eyes. “Well I’m all ears. You said we were gonna talk. So let’s talk, let me in Danny…” You sighed softly, reaching for his hand again. He sighed deeply, holding your hand in his.

“Jasmine was… She was my everything. And then… she just broke my heart and tried to say it was my fault…” He had tears forming. “But all I ever did was give her everything I had to offer… But it just wasn’t enough.” He sighed, you rubbed his hand softly with your thumb. “Danny…” “And the worst part is, she slept with the proclaimed guy she told me not to worry about…” He sniffled as tears fell.

“Tried accusing me that I was sleeping around when I was on tour, I invited her to join us all the time. But she always turned it down saying she couldn’t because of work… Even though Jita takes some time off to join Jake for a few weeks or so. And anytime I planned a nice trip together she would make a fit, and shut it down immediately. So then I would just go with the guys or play my drums figuring out different sounds and techniques for new music. And she swore up and down all I cared about was myself, the music and the guys…” He let out a small cry. “I saw a future with her, and she just tore me down… And I guess I’ve just reflected on the words she left me with and acted on it…” He looked up at you with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Danny… I’m so sorry.” You put your other hand around his, kissing it softly. “You’re not a bad guy. You’re a great guy who got his heart broken by an ungrateful bitch.” You bit your tongue. “Sorry…” “No it’s okay… she was a bitch.” He chuckled softly, “I just. Was scared I was going to hurt you. I mean, I kind of already did with being a dick towards you… And I really am sorry for that.” He looked into your eyes. You smiled softly, looking into his eyes.

“Y/N, I just… What I’m saying is.” He blushed, putting his head down. “I want you in my life… And I know I’ve been an asshole to you for the past two months going on almost 3 months. I just want to start fresh, and treat you the way you deserve.” You felt a few tears threatening to spill, “Danny… All I ever wanted was an explanation and you… Did more than that.” You sighed contently, “Danny I’ve been crazy about you ever since we first met. As silly as that sounds.” You giggled softly, and he laughed softly. “Funny thing is, I was too. Josie even told me to make a move… I was just, I don’t know.”

You smiled at him, “Josh told me that you were scared to love again. I think that’s what was holding you back… And I completely understand, after going through a breakup like that… It’s hard to come back from.” You looked into his eyes lovingly, he nodded watching you.

“So, why don’t we start fresh? I’m sure the guys would be happy that we’re not at each other's throats.” You giggled softly, “Yeah I like the sound of that.” Danny chuckled, smiling softly. “But with one exception?” You looked at Danny with a questionable look, “What exception?”

“Be mine? And only mine. I want you to be my girl. And I want you and only you…” He held both of your hands. You looked into his eyes, nodding your head. “Yes… I- I will Danny…” He smiled leaning over the table kissing your lips softly, as you kissed him back.

“Oh thank god, I thought I was going to walk out of here a lonely man…” He chuckled softly, you shot a glare. “You’re on thin ice… So I'd watch it.” You giggled softly. “I think I’ve learned from my mistakes, I don’t want to lose you…” He smiled softly.

“Alright, let’s order. I’m starving and you still have a photoshoot to attend after this.” He nodded signaling the waiter over to place your orders. “But then I have you for the rest of the day right?” He smiled at you softly, “As long as your schedule stays clear after the photoshoot, then yes.” You smirked at him. “Oh I’ll make sure it stays clear.” He chuckled softly.

➳

Breakfast with Danny was wonderful, you got to know a lot more about him and his family. Along with him learning about yours. And how the two of you lived so close to one another but never crossed paths before.

Danny insisted on you joining the guys on their photoshoot, but you wanted to stay behind and catch up on some work for tomorrow’s busy day leading into Friday.

You decided to head down to the hotel’s bar. Sitting at a small booth, texting Danny to let him know where you were when the guys came back in case they wanted to join you.

A few hours had passed and you were only 2 tequila soda’s in. It was around 6pm and Danny had sent a text signaling he would be down soon. And the guys would join later. You smiled, sending a response back, before finishing up your work and putting it away in your bag waiting for him to arrive.

You had seen Gabe walking into the hotel’s bar. You caught eye contact with him, groaning quietly to yourself. Will this guy ever get the hint? You’re clearly not interested in him. He made his way over to you, “Hey Y/N!” He smiled softly, “Hi Gabe…” You gave a half smile. “Are you alone? Mind if I join?” He smiled, “Uh, Danny is actually meeting me here soon. And the others will be joining…” You took a sip of your drink.

“Well would they mind that I join?” He smiled softly, you thought to yourself. Danny would mind, in fact it would set Danny off you thought. “Uh, sure why not.” You smiled softly, regretting letting him join. You weren’t sure how Danny would react, and of course Gabe sat next to you, and quite close actually. “So, what have you been up to?” He asked taking a sip of his beer. “Oh just finishing up some work for tomorrow’s show and Friday’s show.” You nodded, “What about you?” You tried to keep the conversation simple or to a minimum until Danny arrived.

And of course, Danny was taking a little longer. “Talking to the crew about how insane the new set up is on this tour. I mean Nashville was just an insane evening, it turned out amazing.” He chuckled softly, and you nodded. You caught Danny coming in hot out of the corner of your eye. He raised an eyebrow at you motioning towards Gabe, you gave him a defeated look while shrugging.

“Danny! So glad you joined us.” Gabe smiled at him, Danny smiled back sitting across from you, “The others will be here in the next half hour. I thought you’d be the only one here Y/N…” He said a little annoyed. “Gabe decided to join, he saw I was alone and well…” You gave Danny an apologetic look. “Can’t leave a woman alone by herself in a bar these days anymore…” Gabe chuckled softly, you felt uneasy around him. And Danny could pick up the vibes.

Gabe continued to talk about the stage techniques and set up with Danny while you chewed on the inside of your cheek, waiting for the others to join. And finally the three Kiszka boys piled in. You tapped Gabe on the shoulder, “I’m gonna get a refill, you guys want the same?” Danny and Gabe nodded. “I’ll be back.” You smiled as Gabe let you slip out, and followed behind you.

“You know… You really are beautiful…” You could hear the sultry tone to his voice making you cringe. “Gabe… We’ve already had this conversation.” You went up to the bar placing an order for everyone. “Y/N, come on. Give me a chance… So what if we work together?” He chuckled softly, grabbing at your waist. “Gabe, I said I wasn’t interested.” You shoved his hands away. “And don’t touch me.” You looked at him with angry eyes.

“Woah, hey now… No need to get angry. I’m just-“ “You were just leaving.” Danny spoke up startling Gabe. “Hey man… It’s not-“ Danny grabbed him by the shirt. “It's not what it looks like? It sure did though man. How about you leave my girl alone. And get the fuck out of here…” Danny was beyond pissed, you could see the rage in his eyes.

“Your girl…” He scoffed looking over at you. “You’ll fuck the rockstar, but not me. Fucking easy skank…” He smirked, your eyes went wide. Then Danny’s fist met Gabe’s jaw, knocking him down. “Don’t you ever call her a skank!” Danny gripped his shirt, holding him to the ground. “Come on man, I’m sure she’s an easy lay.” He chuckled, and Danny clocked him again. As the guys rushed over to pull him off of Gabe.

“Danny! We can’t cause a fucking scene in here.” Josh snapped at him, as Sam picked Gabe up walking out of the bar, Jake was checking on you making sure you were alright. “You think I’m gonna let him talk about Y/N like that?” He was angry, and looked over at you with concerning eyes. “Are you okay baby?” He walked up to you, caressing your cheek. You nodded, “I’ll be alright… I just didn’t think that would happen.” You let out a shaky breath.

“Wait, baby?” Josh and Jake looked over at the two of you. “Are we missing something here?” Jake chuckled softly, waiting for a response.

“Well, uh…” Danny smirked, looking between all of you. Sam joined the group again, “Alright he’s being sent off. Got him fired for sexual harassment… What did I miss?” He looked around. “Daniel was getting ready to fill us in on something rather important.” Josh said with a smirk.

“Oh, well what is it Daniel?” Sam questioned him.

“Y/N and I are dating…” He smiled, pulling you close to him.

.

.

.

.

to be continued…

Taglist -

@laneygvf @lyndszee @fkfearandliveyourlegend @starcatcherry

[cvrnelians]

if the fates allow - chapter three

dark!bucky barnes x reader: As could be expected, you were just a tad upset about having to spend Christmas in a mental health facility. On the brightside, you didn’t have to spend it alone. Your friendship with Bucky Barnes, another patient on the unit, brought you a certain level of comfort during your stay. When you are discharged from the hospital shortly thereafter—and Bucky is forced to remain—you promise him you’ll be his pen pal until he gets out, after which, you’ll meet for coffee and catch up.

But when things don’t go quite as well as Bucky had hoped, he takes drastic measures to ensure that you remain the integral part of his life he always envisioned you to be.

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, suicide attempts, and non-con elements. proceed with caution.

(gif is not mine)

chapter one // chapter two // chapter four // chapter five

chapter three: eyes without a face

music

As far as you were concerned, there was nothing more comforting than being all snuggled up beneath a toasty warm blanket.

“You might want to get rid of that. It’s a fire hazard,” your father had said, and he was probably right. There was one hole in his argument, however: you loved your heated blanket. It had been a gift from your mother. You couldn’t just “get rid of it.”

March in New York rode the borderline between winter and spring, even after the equinox. You received an alarming amount of weather alerts and driving ban notifications while you were scrolling on your phone, bombarding you with warnings of the impending snowstorm. It was to be the worst to hit New York in decades, lasting a little over a week. There would be school closings and potential power outages and all the fun things that came along with bad weather. Your manager texted you that evening, informing you that you didn’t have to come into work for the next few days. Although you liked your job, you breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing you wanted to do was attempt to dig your car out of the snow or get stuck on the train—which was likely to have significant delays—for a minimum wage job at a coffee shop.

Since getting out of the hospital, things seemed to be looking up. Your dad talked you into breaking the lease on your apartment so you could live with him, which you hadn’t done in years. You were upset about it at first. You felt like you were being stripped of your independence, that he was treating you like a child, that you were a complete and total loser. And yet, it wasn’t hard to see that living alone after your mother’s death wasn’t exactly fruitful for your mental health and wellbeing. You thought the isolation would be good for you, that it would give you the time and space you needed to mourn.

You thought wrong.

Your dad gave you time to rest when you moved into his place, which came as a real shock. Your dad could be tough. You thought as soon as you arrived, he would be on you to get a job as quickly as possible. You thought that he would get annoyed with you after a week or two, that he would berate you for being lazy or overly emotional or whatever he felt like throwing at someone who was noticeably more vulnerable than he was.

You thought wrong.

He didn’t do those things. He didn’t even slightly do those things. When you wanted to sleep, he let you sleep. When you hadn’t left your room for a while, he would make you something to eat. When you seemed particularly down, he would ask you to watch a movie with him. It was truly mindblowing. You never knew kindness could feel so unnerving.

It was Saturday of the last week of March. Finally, you asked.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

It was too early in the morning to be talking to anyone, much less having a deep conversation with your father. But you had both been awake for hours. It was obvious, given how haggard you both looked, and the urgency with which you were barging towards the coffeemaker.

“What, do you pity me or something? Are you worried I’m going to try and kill myself again? Do you feel lonely after Mom died? Do you feel guilty? What is it, why am I here?”

He was quiet for a while. He motioned for you to sit down at the table, clearly insistent on making the coffee himself. For a while, you thought he wasn’t even going to respond. It wasn’t unheard of for him to simply gloss over things that made him uncomfortable.

Finally, he spoke.

“You’re here because you’re my daughter,” he said, pouring you a cup. “And I don’t want to lose you. And you deserve to be here.”

He set the mug down in front of you, turning back around to pour a drink for himself. You were completely and utterly stunned. 

“And I love you.”

You took a huge sip of coffee, trying your best to avoid continuing the conversation. And then it suddenly occurred to you. All this time, you hadn’t even noticed. He had made your coffee just the way you liked it.

As luck would have it, you landed an interview for a barista position at a cafe not even two blocks away just a few days later. And when you got the call that you were hired, you were actually excited to tell him about it.

You started studying for the GRE, determined that one day—you had no clue when—you would finally take the necessary steps to get into grad school. Somehow, some way, you were going to do it. The only issue was figuring out what you were going to do. But you’d get there. That was what your therapist had been telling you, anyway. Your dad offered to pay for your sessions, so you wanted to get as much out of them as you could. You started heeding her suggestions to go on morning walks in the park. As loathe as you were to admit it, your little bouts of daily exercise truly did help clear your head. As it turned out, “self-care” wasn’t just a load of bullshit reserved for mentally well, functional people. As it turned out, you were just as entitled to feel as good and rested and restored and as healthy as anybody else.

The grieving process was a bitch, though.

You broke down crying more than once, sometimes at work. Each month created more and more distance from the last living memory of your mother. There were moments where you moved to pick up the phone and call her, completely forgetting that she was dead. You would wake up void of pangs of sadness or worry, only to be flooded with overwhelming emotions when you were fully coherent.

There were two significant differences between now and a few months ago, however. They were named Bucky and MJ, and they turned out to be pretty damn good friends. MJ wound up saving your number from the scrap of paper you had given her while you were hospitalized. Not only that, she actually contacted you like she said she would. Bucky was more than happy to include her on your little outings together. Who would have thought back when you were all at the lowest point of your lives that you would be bothering one another in a near constant group chat just a few months later?

Bucky seemed to hate texting. You could tell he preferred phone calls, but he would get incredibly defensive whenever MJ would refer to him as “an old man,” so he elected to remain part of the group chat. Deep down, you knew he liked it. He really was similar to a grumpy old man at times. You and MJ brought a bit of much needed levity to his life.

You were okay, for now. You hadn’t thought about hurting yourself lately. You just wouldn’t let yourself go there. You definitely needed to make some new friends apart from the ones you met in the mental hospital. Maybe read a book or two. Cut back on caffeine.

But you were okay. Things were alright.

You just hoped it would last.

☽ 

You woke up slowly, fading in and out of consciousness. You wanted more than anything to sink back into the pleasant dreams you were having. Your blanket had become more than just a warm cocoon. It was sturdy, protective, living, breathing. You began to feel a weight on your chest. Lips pressed up against your neck, kissing gently downwards until they reached your collarbone. Your eyelids were heavy as you registered an image of arms wrapped around you, one much colder than the other. Light from the snow streamed through the window, reflecting off of a metal surface. It was unmistakable. 

“James?”

You could feel him smile against your skin.

“James?” you repeated. 

“You’re dreaming,” he said, holding onto you tighter. “It’s okay. You can relax.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, although you weren't really sure what you were asking. Or why. And you weren’t really sure why Bucky was the one you were dreaming of. “It’s so warm...”

“Positive,” he chuckled. “Just close your eyes, okay? You want to keep dreaming, don’t you?”

You did as he said, shutting your eyes and snuggling up closer.

“I missed you,” you murmured. “In January.”

“Not February?” he joked.

“Januaryfebruary,” you murmured. You were finding it nearly impossible to speak.

He was quiet for a few moments, almost to the point where you had fallen asleep again. But then he spoke.

“I missed you too, doll.”

Your mind was drifting, weighed down by the warmth of the blanket and the cold air on your skin and, well…

Bucky.

“Go back to sleep. You need it. Don’t you want to keep dreaming?”

And so you did.

☽  

Bucky didn’t like texting you. Partially because he thought it was impersonal, partially because he preferred to hear your voice. It was mostly the latter.

Navigating through your home unseen was no easy task. It required that he remain as quiet as possible, and talking on the phone with you didn’t really allow for that, so he bit the bullet and did what he had to do.

You’re not going to work today, are you?

He already knew the answer to that, of course. He knew everything. You were not. Even if for some reason you changed your mind or decided to go out and get groceries or something, you were not leaving your apartment. Nope. Not in the midst of such an insane snowstorm. It just wasn’t going to happen.

He would make sure of that.

Hiding in your closet (which was becoming a fairly regular ordeal, making him feel like a complete weirdo) allowed him to overhear your conversation with your father a few days prior, hitting him with both a strong sense of relief and a wave of anger. His jaw clenched at the idea of that pathetic excuse for a man speaking to you, of having the audacity to act like he cared.

Right. Like that asshole ever cared about you.

By now, it was clear to Bucky that your dad was going to be an issue for you, and for him. You had confided in him just the tiniest bit when you were in the hospital, and throughout your letters. You hadn’t said much, but it was enough to know that your dad was not a very nice man. Bucky also grew up as the child of an overwhelmingly destructive force. He could still remember those late nights when his father would come home drunk, acting like he was out of his mind. He would stumble through the door, loud and angry and all geared up to hurt someone, to hurt anyone. Even his wife. Even his children.

Even himself.

When his father died—when his father “killed himself”—Bucky felt numb. He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t cry, not once. Not when he went to the wake. Not when he went to the funeral. Not when he saw his mother and his grandparents and his little sisters cry for what seemed like forever. Not when Father’s Day rolled around, or his birthday, or any other holiday or major milestone where he felt like he should be grieving. Not when he found him, cold and lifeless on the bathroom floor.

“Found” him.

Right.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He was only sixteen then, but the rage had been there for as long as he could remember. Being witness to and victim of this insanity night after night…it had taken a toll on everyone, Bucky most of all. So much so that by the time he realized that he was big enough and strong enough and smart enough to stand up to the one person he despised most in this world, he decided he had to either go big or go home. And Bucky was never one to half-ass anything.

It was easy to justify to himself. This was the man that sent his mother into a full blown panic every time she didn’t have dinner on the table “on time,” which was unpredictable and ever changing. This was the man that terrified his twelve year old sister to the point where she tried to run away when she accidentally broke a ten dollar vase. This was the very same man that beat him with a belt when he accidentally left a light turned on in the kitchen overnight.

All things considered, it wasn’t hard to make it look like a suicide. Everyone knew James Buchanan-Barnes Sr. had some serious issues. Bucky’s family was devastated, but they were all-too-willing to accept that was what happened, that it was simply his father’s doing.

It was strange, though.

They all looked at Bucky differently after that. They treated him differently. They were nicer, maybe even a bit reverent. He had become the man of the house, afterall. Although still grieving, everyone seemed much more relaxed when he died. His mother slept for a week straight. Bucky would bring her food and water on rotation, but she never so much as stirred when he entered the room.

He remembered it clear as day.

It was an early morning, still dark. Bucky had situated himself at the kitchen table, having made himself a bowl of cereal. He liked to get up early and have a quiet little breakfast by himself. He would watch the sunrise if he remembered to come up for air while he was eating. Peace and quiet was much easier to attain when his father was no longer around. He felt someone place their hands on his shoulders, startling him. He was ready to turn around and swing at who he, for a split second, assumed was his dad. But it wasn’t.

“Y’know, Buck,” his mother had said, giving his shoulders a light squeeze. “I haven’t slept like this in a very long time.”

As a person who had hurt people, Bucky knew a predator when he saw one. Because, loathe as he was to admit it, he sort of was one.

Your father was a killer, too. That wasn’t hard to figure out. Bucky knew almost instantly, even before he decided to do some digging. He wasn’t the most tech savvy guy in the world, but he knew how to use google. Your mother’s death had been investigated for months until it was determined to be a suicide. Even Sam knew about it, it was kind of a big story locally. Bucky just knew that man murdered your mother, even before he overheard one of several repulsive phone conversations your father had with his girlfriend about the situation. You still had no clue about her, about everything that had gone on behind the scenes. That, like the rest of this “good guy” act he was putting on, was no accident. He seemed to feel genuinely guilty that you were struggling so much without your mother, but what good was that guilt now? 

There was a key difference between killers like Bucky and killers like him. Your father was no wolf. No, not at all. Your father was a fucking snake, and Bucky needed to get you away from him.

Before he realized that you had fallen back asleep---in spite of waking up to have coffee earlier that morning----he sent another text. 

I really hope you’re not. But if you are, I can give you a lift. My car is built a little tougher than yours.

He thought he saw you move a few times through the crack in the closet door, and assumed you were just scrolling through your phone. But no, you were dead asleep.

Passed out, more like it.

It made him wince, knowing that he was part of the reason why your sleep schedule had gotten so messed up. It made him feel…gross. Even the word “drugging” made him feel sick to his stomach, even though he knew that was exactly what he was doing. He hated feeling like he was taking advantage of you when you were at your most vulnerable, like he was disempowering you. He knew what that was like, and he never intended to live out that trauma with someone who didn’t deserve it. That was the exact opposite of what he had been trying to do.

But he had somewhat good, if not selfish, reasons for it.

Bucky had a prescription for Xanax. He was supposed to use it to help with his anxiety and his panic attacks. He only got a small amount per month. They were hit or miss as far as effectiveness went, at least for him. But for you, they worked like a charm. 

Every. Single. Time.

Whenever he had the opportunity to sneak into your apartment (which was more often than he ever even intended), he would pour the crushed up pills into whatever you were drinking. He tried to only do this in the evenings, for three main reasons.

1. You had trouble sleeping, and he wanted to help. You were always so tired and rundown. It couldn’t have been good for you. He just wanted you to feel good when you woke up. That wasn’t so bad, was it?

2. He wanted to make sure that you were safe, that your father wasn’t going to come into your room during the night and kill you, too…which probably wasn’t going to happen. But he wanted to be sure of that. You would never have let Bucky into your room like that if he told you any of this, you never would’ve believed him. He needed you unaware of his presence so he could keep watch without making you feel uncomfortable.

3. He wasn’t sure how crazy you would be about the prospect of him lying in bed with you, but it was all he had been wanting to do for the longest time. And he knew you wouldn’t have let him if he asked, and he was struggling to control himself.

He just loved you so much, and he wanted to be there just in case something happened to you and he wanted to know what it felt like to hold you at night and he loved seeing you look so calm and serene and at peace and it wasn’t like he had done anything that bad, it wasn’t like he had touched you, really, not really, he wasn’t some pervert or something but he loved the way you curled up into him and how you relaxed and went back to sleep when he asked you to and how his hands looked—how his ring looked—against your skin and how it felt when you would fall asleep on your stomach and he would rest all of his weight on you and kiss the back of your neck but he didn’t want to scare you, he would never, ever ever want to scare you but he was so much older than you, old enough for MJ to call him old and so unstable and he had hurt people, he had killed people, and you must’ve known something was wrong with him, everyone knew something was wrong with him and you would’ve said no, you would’ve said no and h—

Bucky wasn’t the most tech savvy guy. It wasn’t unusual for him to forget to turn down the volume on his phone. But he was no idiot. He had been a military strategist, for god’s sake. And yet, Sam was calling. 

And it was loud.

Loud enough that it echoed off the closet walls. Your closet walls. Bucky was frozen in place, scrambling to silence his phone and willing himself to somehow melt into the floor.

And you were awake.

☽

@repostingmyfavs

[hail-brod]

A Chance and Beyond (5)

Previous chapter: (Chapter 4)

Next chapter: (Chapter 6)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Loki x FReader

A/N: AAA. Sorry for the 2 weeks delay. Busy sched and all that college stress honking at me. Just glad finally had the time to write!

Warning/s: Light angst?, light cusses, mentions of a home's destruction, nothing else probably (please tell me if I missed something!)

WC: 4.4k

You go to a trip with your sorcerer friend and also visit your other sorcerer...friend? Whatever he is to you, you just can't keep him away on your mind. Simp. And it seems like, you're getting quite attached to where you are. Bad. Very bad. Or is it?

As soon as you and Strange made your move to walk towards a road, you had come to realize that the people rounding and helping around the said 'Norway', we're dressed like....asgardians.

All with the females' flowy skirts and the males' simple tunic beneath their worn out cloaks, that feels like it has been drastically changed. It has been far from what you've always seen, far from the bright and luscious colors that everyone delighted in. Each and every one of them was adorned with a somber hue that even their countenance could match.

There's a pit in your stomach that uneased you so as you flew your eyes amongst the people you pass by. Some of the houses we're nearly finished while the others we're just being started. Tents we're also given afoot at a separate side of the field where the remaining people stayed idle for rest. Some peering eyes turn to you and Strange, no doubt more curious at the man in a bright red cloak.

You though, you peered right back in question and in concern.

"This is still Midgard?" you lowly asked, turning to your sorcerer friend. "Earth?"

"Yes."

When he turns to you, there's not much answer you could get from his expression. His inexpressible stare greeted you but it cracks with something else that unnerves you more.

He turns away, staring forward. "If you still need that grimoire, I'm afraid we'll have no luck getting it anymore."

You feel yourself slowly stop beside him. There's that growing hopelessness in your eyes, baring at his back as he continued, not noticing your halt. You glance around one more time.

You know what he meant. And it adds to the pile of needles piercing through your heart. Part of it was your lowered chances to travel back to the TVA, but what overrides it is knowing that there's a reality where Asgard have met it's terrible fate. Knowing that these people we're forced to leave their home-world because of it. And there's no doubt many we're also perished.

At this point, you're being used to the downing weight on your chest. You try to breathe deeply.

"You alright?" you snap your head towards Strange, who has stopped walking and now looking at you. He seems firm but he eyes you gently.

"What happened?" you almost ask in a whisper.

"I can't...tell you what exactly occurred. I don't know much about it..." he says. He turns his head somewhere and when you did the same, you see an unfamiliar sky-blue spacecraft parked far in the distance. "All I know is that, your crown prince and everyone else fought to save your people's lives."

There's a pause of the moment.

You couldn't say anything after that, so you continued to follow Strange. You feel proud knowing that Thor still has the determination to save others, as a hero and as a prince. Basking at the sight of a few asgardians with melancholic smiles, still finding hope amongst their families and friends—you know that Thor had done his best to protect everyone else.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

You also wonder if Loki did the same. You doubt he wouldn't be affected by all of this.

After a few turns and questions from your companion, asking where Thor might be to the passing asgardians, you're led to a crowded area situated near a harbor.

Resources of woods we're being hauled and carried by people, probably for construction of the houses. Others talked and yelled orders, throwing baskets over their shoulders, there's nets, and other supplies being given to mothers, fathers—everyone. They we're all busy.

"I didn't know asgardians we're this...cooperative." Strange mentions next to you.

You strained a smile. "We've had many wars." you say. "I'd wager it's the same here. We make sure our allies are always taken care of, especially their honor in battle."

When you finally spot some people bowing their heads to a gathering little circle as they walked past them in the distance, you and Strange paced up your steps.

You recognized two people conversing with someone unfamiliar to you. You see Thor's form and in front of him was a woman with intricate braids adorning her hair. And at their sides, was the raven haired god that you just realized you aren't prepared to see again.

He was talking to them, probably discussing a plan or an idea as the other two listened to him. You hesitated to follow your cloaked companion who's heading towards them as you tried to blend in with the busy crowds. Although, before you could decide to brave yourself up and walk forward again, he met your eyes.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

Why, just before you we're adamant when interacting with him. Maybe you we're just fooling yourself.

When he saw you, he stopped moving his mouth to talk as he gradually widened his eyes. It wasn't long before Thor and the woman turned their heads towards Loki's line of sight, landing on you. You briefly stiffed.

But Thor immediately broke out into a grin when he realized who caught his brother's attention. "My lady! What brings you here?" then he sees Strange. "And Doctor, of course."

"You sound disappointed." Strange gave him unamused look.

"What, me? Nooo." Thor tries to pat him on the back, but Strange's cloak slaps his hand away. The god frowns at the garment.

"Don't even attempt it."

Just as Strange arrived at their sides, with a courage you forced yourself to pick up, you followed suit. You try to sneak a glance at the god who's now directly in front of you. Loki looks down on you with no more than a brief stare and immediately flickered it between the other two men.

"Who's this?" the woman with the braids suddenly asks, attention on you.

"Oh, this is..." Thor says your name—which you certainly know he wasn't supposed to when Loki points him a dead look. It went unnoticed by his older brother. "A fellow asgardian! Not from around here but I won't disclose furthermore on that."

She raised a questioning look at Thor. "Really?" she says, eyeing you. "You don't look like it. I'm Brunnhilde."

You nodded, quite hesitant to meet anyone's eyes lest you might accidentally find yourself in Loki's cerulean ones. "Pleasure to meet you." you say with a polite smile.

She quirked a brow and grinned. "And a noble at that. The pleasure is all mine." she adds playfully. You confusingly blinked.

"Why, yes..." Thor's chuckle booms. "..how'd you know that?" his expression contorts, looking at her as if she just crossed him unmistakably.

"I've spent enough time with dickhead nobles to know which ones can run their pouty mouths to pray dumb orders." she darts her eyes to Thor then turns to you with a crank of her head. "Don't worry, you're not one of them."

You like her already.

This Brunnhilde woman seems like a very laidback person. Well, not so much if you consider her hardened muscles and confident stance. Someone who's likely a trained warrior.

"What about me?" Thor asks Brunnhilde. She turns to him and gave him a stare for a second, then shrugs. She eventually bid her goodbyes to the princes and you, mentioning along the lines of being needed for escorting newly imported goods at the pier.

"What did she mean-" Thor imitates Brunnhilde's shrug, eyeing the direction she left with irritation. "Sometimes I feel like she keeps insulting me."

She probably was.

"Enough of that, we came here for something." Strange suddenly says, turning to you then back at the princes. "We had already tried to use the Time stone and I'm afraid we need some alternatives."

This peaks Loki's interest, quirking up a brow. "And you need us to...what?"

Strange slowly shrugs as he tilted his head to you. "I believe this would be asgardian matters."

All eyes turned to you. You blinked and took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. It's not fair that he could just avert the attention to you the least you expect it.

"First of all, Asgard..." you paused. "I need something from there, but now I suppose that would be....unattainable." you lightly bared your eyes on the two princes, expecting them to say something. Though, your eyes dances around the other asgardians, scurrying about and making this place their new home.

Thor immediately tensed up, a sudden sadness visible in his eyes. "My lady, if you must know..." he starts, stepping closer to bring a hand on your shoulder and utters lowly. "we can have a chat somewhere else so you can prepare yourself with my...tale.."

His voice trails off but you reply. There's a feeling in you that doesn't want to know what happened; it might as well affect you more than it should. "No, it is fine. Your people have clearly seen the hardships. I can only imagine what truly happened. Honestly, I don't even want to imagine..." you gently inclined.

You feel the change in you to know what caused this. Maybe fear is running its way to your mind; another breaking point daring to burst you. In another time, maybe you want to know. Just...not right now.

Thor gives you a sympathetic look and nods, hands falling from your shoulder. "Alright then. Asgard is...gone, but our people will find their safe haven here. As you can already see," he lifts his palm up to present his surroundings, but he suddenly turns grim. "And what you seek to retrieve in Asgard, no doubt, has met the same fate. The realm itself is..."

"I understand." you say, the weight in you threatens to crash.

You breathed in. What now?

If the grimoire itself is gone, what other options do you have? There's not a single alternative that would be able to tell you how to conjure that command within the infinity stone. Not a single spell that would be able to link with it; no compatibility to successfully activate the magic.

Are you truly stuck here? It seems like the Norns have turned a blind eye on you—more than ever.

"What do you even intend to retrieve in Asgard?"

Your thoughts break as you turn to look at the voice. A voice you can never forget. When you finally dart your eyes on him, he had crossed his arms, eyes firm on you. But you know that isn't the firmest look he can give.

Loki raises a brow, awaiting your answer. You dazed off for a bit, rethinking if you should say it. Any asgardian sorcerer would know how absurd it is to consider something so dangerous. "The grimoire of Banna Fróðleikr." you almost muttered in shame.

The moment his firmness faded, you knew he's heard of it. He frowned but you didn't miss the brief concern laced in his expression. "Why in the Hels would you want to use it?"

"The 'Banana' what?" Thor snoops in, confused.

Loki ignores him as he takes a few steps closer to you. Your heart raced. You wanted to back up but your feet grounds you down. You soon noticed his movement was hesitant. "I believe you know what that grimoire holds; how dangerous the spells are contained there." he says, expecting you to elaborate.

It was clear he was questioning why you needed such a thing. And it doesn't really help that you we're already subjected as a suspicious stranger by his 'comrades', or even him. You know how dangerous it is. But you've experienced far worse fates. The spell is your last option and the only option you can think of, and you're willing to risk it if the chance is still presented.

"One spell." you say, clearing it. "That's all I ask from it, not with something ominous nor malicious. I don't intend to use it that way."

He momentarily creases his brow. Any lie that he had probably try to pick up from you was nonexistent. "It's still a big risk. Actually, it depends on how much risk the spell can do."

You see him soften but he immediately puts on his mask. A sudden feeling of belonging churns in you when you took a moment scanning his face, but you shook it away with a blink. "Well...does it matter now?"

He lingers his eyes on you—much more intently. As if digging through your memories and memorizing every detail on your face. You know he's trying to look for any hidden intent.

Then he breaks it with a faint sigh. "I have it."

Huh?

"You have...what?" you say, stunned.

Strange looks at him with a huffs. "You just can't get your hands off of anything, can you?"

That earns him a glare from the god. But you only blink several times as Loki turns to the others with irritation. That served you a chance to observe him furthermore. The opportunity to have him there just a few steps away from you, made you feel surreal. You start to realize how mature he looks. That he's slightly taller than you're used to, while his black locks seemed even more refined with more curls.

And the last time you held them, you we're worried sick on the ground as he rested his head on your lap, bleeding. He wasn't even grunting in pain but chuckling as he stared up on you. At some point, you would've thought he was a bloody masochist.

Alas, you stopped yourself. You hear Thor say something scoldingly at his brother. You bring yourself back in the chatter and remembered why you we're momentarily taken. You still have some things to address.

"Will you both shut up? And stop antagonizing me, I only have the copy; not the real thing." Loki bites back.

"That doesn't make any difference." his brother remarked.

The grimoire. You have a chance.

"Wait," you jump in. "wait, that's...that's great. Good great." you tried to say. You feel the relief washing through you. When Loki turns to you, you realized your eyes never left his form. He almost took your breathe away.

Oh, by the Þrír Wells of Yggdrasil. Why do you keep getting distracted?

The said god raised a brow, seemingly judging you for sounding too chirpy at the revelation of a dangerous item. "Is it now?"

"W-Well, I mean..."

As you tried to redeem yourself, you can't help but be sidetracked when he slightly tilted his head to the side with a quaint smug look.

All words die on your throat.

It hurts when you see your Loki in him, but at the same time, it swells that you're witnessing him all over again. Right here—in front of you.

"Danger is hardly great," Strange declares. "but fine. Whatever spell you want to do, it'd better be worth all the risk." you hurried your attention towards him and eventually notice his uneasiness, eyes darting here and there.

"Of course..." you trail, concerned. Why is he now worried over the plan? "I can't promise anything but the odds can be on our side." you try to reassure.

As you debated in your head to ask whether the midgardian sorcerer is having second thoughts, an asgardian bellows mirthful words to Thor. The man informs him of something about a preparation for a bonfire feast, which also inspirited the other asgardians into a cheer.

That brings a ghost of a smile on your lips. It has been tough yet they still manage to see light through these times.

Thor brings out a baritone laugh, hands on his hips. "Never thought they'd be this eager to have a brief feast. Then again, asgardians are never brought down that easily." he says, a bittersweet gentleness in his tone.

"I just hope you're not going to let them consume our food supplies in one night." Loki declaimed in feign annoyance.

"Oh, you worry too much brother. Hmm, perhaps that is why you're my wingman." this time, he tries to pat Loki in the back which earned him an eyeroll.

"Or more like a babysitter." you hear him mutter under his breath as Thor turns away, addressing cheerful words at his people. You couldn't help but huff out a light laugh, that being not unheard from Loki's ears as he points you a look. One that he tries to hide as he stands up straight, authoritatively.

Well, isn't he tough?

Before you could forget about your mission, your cloaked friend calls your name.

But Thor interrupts him. "Why don't you join us for tonight?" he stares at you and then hesitantly at Strange, as if he didn't want him to accept. "Only if you are not busy of course. You and your- " he lightly waved his hands around. "silly sorcery stuffs."

"Oh. I don't..." I don't know. Should you? There's no arguing you're tempted to. Looking around....these are the people you're fighting with fate to see again.

Only for a brief moment. Only for one night. Maybe you deserve it.

Do you?

You glanced at Loki who's eyes away from you yet you know he's listening. With him again—just for a little while...

You then fly your eyes at Strange, but oddly, he wasn't paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he was frowning into nothingness—as if there was a presence he was trying to detect. It was your turn to call his name.

All the other eyes turn to him, wondering the same thing. This brought the cloaked sorcerer out from his troubles and immediately replies, stern. "Let's resume tomorrow. I have some business in the sanctum." he says to you, turning to his side. There's a sense of rush in his movements yet he still manages to sound composed. Before you can follow him with questions, he continues. "You can stay here if you want. I can come back here tomorrow morning."

You were taken aback, gears turning to immediately decide. "Is that really fine?" you stall, not sure if you should assist with what's bothering him or just be selfish and stay.

He quips you a look. "I know you want to stay." he opens a portal and you're left grounded on your spot. He gives you one last look and points a glance behind you with a low whisper. "And it seems like they do too."

You don't know what to say to that. You never expected you'd be in this situation given that you had been thinking a lot more about getting out of this place. And now you're faced with what you've always wanted, but at the same time, this isn't where you're supposed to be. You're supposed to be acting; to move out where you have stuck yourself in.

But are you really stuck right now? To you, it feels like there's already roots growing underneath you.

When he entered, he didn't waste a second closing it, knowing that you already made up your mind.

"That settles it then." Thor's voice booms behind you. Even if you can't see him, there's no doubt he's grinning widely.

When you turned, you weren't mistaken.

Your heart was running fast.

You didn't even run, not so much as a jog. And yet, as you walk beside the young prince, you couldn't calm yourself down. By the Hels, you know you were nervous...and more conscious. What could've probably caused that? Your first few interactions with him we're adequately placed within meters away, and just right before your not very pleasant morning.

Now, you we're inches beside him. Of course you had to peek glances—and he certainly looks like he wants to avoid you.

That made you even more nervous.

Had you said or done anything wrong? We're you acting too odd for a stranger and he sees you strange? Had you made yourself a fool in front of him?

Maybe, you had been too straightforward the last time you talked. That explains it.

When Thor proceeded to lead you both to the site of the bonfire feast, he had placed himself ahead of you, giving his regards to his people with encouragements. While you and Loki trailed behind him quite meekly; although, having his chin up makes him look more confident and high in power compared to you—who looks tense and far from his confident aura.

But said aura hides something underneath it.

You start to wonder if his people also treat him differently for being...him. You can't be too sure if circumstances are alike than the ones that you've known...but you already had your fair share of witnessing the other people's distrust against him.

A certain blond soldier comes to mind. Well, not just him. You're quite certain there's a lot more people, more than the Avengers, that are not in favor of his character.

It proved to be right when a few asgardians hesitantly bow their heads with a strained smile towards the young prince as they scurry away with not so much a glance. A big contrast to when they greet Thor; a warm smile and a tone of cheeriness, matching even his bright demeanor.

Some things do never change.

But it was also quite...new. Or different.

Sure, in your timeline your people would always regard him with a fearful and scornful stare, but never in a way that seems like they're trying to...see him. In this timeline, their hesitancy almost feels like a test of the waters, testing if they'll burn themselves or freeze in fear of his wrath—or if the chance serves it, maybe neither of those. There's a hiding trepidation in their eyes, but their intention for genuineness wishes to push it far out of their heads.

And when you witnessed Loki's attempt at a polite nod on every bow he receives, you know he's doing the same.

You know there's a mask hovering over his guarded demeanor, but you also know he's capable of being genuine. You hadn't realize your tensed form have downgraded to little abnormal heart beats when Loki himself caught your attention on him.

"Distracted once again now, are we?"

Screw it, you're tense again.

He stares down at you as he says it, but there's an implied teasing on his tone. He's clearly remembered your last conversation.

"No, no." you try to laugh it out. "I'm nowhere close to being famished at all."

"Shame. Considering that you've been invited to a feast, you'd at least have more room for a banquet meal." he says, looking ahead.

"Is that an offer?"

He narrows his brows and lightly snaps his eyes on you. What?

As if he heard your thought of confusion, his expression fades out into a softer manner. You realized he was observing you and somehow, whatever it is he saw, brought his guard down.

Maybe because this time, you didn't hide your intentions with a teasing grin. We all know what would've happen if you did. It could be you this time and not the meal.

"You're bold," he starts. "considering the forbidden book as your way out of here. Not many would dare attempt to read such destructive texts, especially amateurs." he averts the subject.

You lightly scrunched your nose. He continues before you could say anything. "But, you are no amateur, I can admit that. You're...well-versed..in the least I could say. Undoing my disguise spell work is undeniably no easy feat." he admits. You can feel that he's limiting himself for any more words that he could give, possibly because he doesn't want to flatter you too much.

He's definitely acknowledged your sorceress might.

"That is actually high...coming from you." you say. You try to hide your swelling pride as you looked away. "I'm honored."

He stays silent for awhile before replying. "You...think highly of me?"

There's a hint of disbelief in his tone when he asks. "Well, yes." you simply answer, though you can't help but feel your heart swell for being quite forward. Still, you know it's the truth. "I don't see why I shouldn't think so."

You leave it at that as you pondered for awhile. You've definitely let yourself become an open book.

Admittedly, he pokes unto it. "Do you, perhaps, idolize your second prince in your timeline, girl?" he teasingly says.

You didn't reply, cheeks daring to flush.

You've definitely had an ounce of respect for the prince especially at sorcery, but to idolize him? You wonder.

You couldn't seem to bring out a valid answer, or a decent one at that. Maybe a sensible or a non-superfluous information that will ultimately sound too despicable for his ears. If you lie now, he'd know.

Though, you don't really have much of a choice. So you just keep stalling. "Isn't idolizing too much?"

"Is worshipping a god not so?"

Ah, fair. He's a god and a prince, and as an asgardian you're very much inclined to worship your gods and obey His Highness. Not something out of practice at all.

When you kept quiet, he added more. "Still, if not idolization then maybe something...far lighter, I garner?"

"Admiration?" you instinctively answer.

"Well, yes..." he points you a quick stare, one that seemed cautious. "...admiration...?" he eventually questions, as if it just had caught up to him and frowns at you.

Just when you we're about to take your words back, or try to justify yourself, Thor bellows yours and Loki's name far ahead. You hadn't noticed how far he had gone and how different the surroundings looked. There we're no more houses mingled together, instead, you we're far much closer to the sea. You we're atop a grassy cliff stretched to the far side and it's edges seem to bend slightly upright, as if forming a some sort fence. It makes the land feel much more like a larger cockpit but in a cozy way.

And the ocean's view is just...breathtaking.

Somewhere in the center of the place was the unlit bonfire; the woods we're piled up together like a massive tent and around it, people placed boulders and more sets of woods to sit on.

Evidently, night was nearing as the sun slowly sets down, bearing witness to everyone preparing the feast.

It's been awhile since you've been to a bonfire feast, especially not with this amount of people. But you know how right this feels.

For once, you don't feel out of place.

Previous chapter: (Chapter 4)

Next chapter: (Chapter 6)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

'A Chance and Beyond' taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @lcolumbia1988

Ko-fi?

[pepperonijem]

vi. silly things & sensible people || all my love

"Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way." - Emma; Jane Austen

Summary: sometimes all anyone needs is a gentle nudge in the right direction Pairing: high school!bucky x f!reader Warnings: food mentions Word Count: 3.1k A/N: we all need a friend like wanda <3 || sorry for the delay! I had a job interview this week that I spent all weekend prepping for... i passed! (i'm moving to korea this summer lol)

previous chapter || back to library || next chapter

Wanda opened her notes app and started a new note, titling it with the date and began her weekly letter to her pen pal, wanting to update them on her life... or mostly her best friend's life.

You will NEVER guess what’s been happening this semester. Did you guess? Well whatever you guessed is probably wrong… unless you guessed that my best friend just confessed to her crush without TELLING me about it first. 

It was absolutely insane, I was getting out of class and on my way to find her and Steve for lunch when I saw a HUGE crowd by Steve’s class and right at the center of it all was Bucky Barnes and the only girl crazy enough to give him a handwritten note in the middle of passing period. I only saw the end of it, but it was… brutal. I’ve known Bucky long enough to know he isn’t the friendliest person out there but even for him… it made me so upset. He didn’t even take her card, can you believe it? 

Honestly, this whole time I didn’t realize she actually liked him enough to confess to him. I always thought it was a passing crush, but I guess I was wrong. She was pretty badass for that. But obviously Steve didn’t think so. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so dejected. I wonder if he’ll ever work himself up to do the same thing.

OH. But the craziest part is that a week after she confessed to him, she ended up moving into his house. Turns out her dad and Bucky’s dad were college besties. Isn’t that insane? It’s just like this anime Natasha made me watch with her once. We were in tears the whole time but uh, that’s a story for another day. Or a story for never. She swore me to secrecy after that night.

We actually didn’t realize that she had moved in with him until after the big exam we took when Bucky stormed in and she handed him a picture of the two of them asleep together at the dining table. 

Then that night, she ended up spraining her ankle and Bucky had to take her home so he didn’t get to go to IHOP with us. Sad for him, that was a fun night. Not for Steve… again. By the end of the night he was crying to Sam’s rendition of an ABBA song and chugging down strawberry milkshakes. He’s lactose intolerant and he slept over at my house that night. So… not much fun for me either. I–

“Wanda, get off your damn phone and help us move the couch.” Wanda looked up from her notes app to see Natasha, Tony and Scott waiting for her to grab onto the fourth corner of the loveseat.

“Sorry, sorry,” Wanda apologized before rushing to help them move the couch to the opposite end of the room. “Why are we doing this again?”

Natasha let out a grunt as they dropped the couch ungracefully onto the floor. “Scott thought it would be cool to have a pillow fort.”

“We’re doing this for a pillow fort?” Tony asked in shock. “I thought Scott’s mom just wanted us to redecorate.”

“Tony, why would his mom want both of the couches facing the walls on opposite ends of the room?” Natasha asked with a roll of her eyes. Tony shrugged his shoulders and plopped himself down on the couch. 

Natasha dropped down beside him with a sigh. “When is everyone else gonna get here?” she asked.

“Well Steve had to pick up Sam, but he should be here soon.” Wanda looked down at her watch at the time to compare it against the ETA Steve had sent earlier.

Tony checked his phone as he leaned over the back of one couch. “Rhodey just texted. He just parked outside.”

“What about Bucky?” Scott asked. 

Natasha shrugged as the doorbell rang and Wanda went to answer it, letting Rhodey in. “Sorry, I had to pick up the kid,” Peter walked into the kitchen with a proud grin as Rhodey rolled his eyes.

“Yeah but we brought food,” Peter exclaimed as he placed a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. 

“You brought your Chipotle,” Rhodey clarified as he walked to the fridge to grab himself a bottle of water. 

Scott laughed and shook his head as he took the bag and handed it to Rhodey to stick in the fridge. “Did you guys happen to get Bucky too?” 

Rhodey shook his head in response. “I offered him a ride, but he said he had plans.”

“Plans?” Scott echoed. “We are his plans. He’s never missed a board game night.” Wanda could hear the pout in his voice. 

“He didn’t give me any details but I think it has to do with his roomie.” Rhodey commented, checking through his text messages to see if he left any details out. “He said he’ll be busy all day.”

“His roomie, huh?” Tony repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Have you guys noticed he’s been weird lately?”

“Yeah,” Natasha replied. “Last week I asked him if he liked her–”

Before Natasha could continue, Tony walked toward the group gathered by the island, eager to join the gossip. “Yes!” He exclaimed. “Bucky always sends these weird memes that no one gets exam days, but last week, we had a literature exam and guess what?”

“What?” Rhodey asked flatly. Natasha nudged him in response, reminding him to be polite.

“He didn’t send anything,” Tony noted. “When I asked him what happened, he told me he was up the night before studying… but Bucky never studies for literature exams because he’s a nerd who already read the books.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the doorbell rang and in came Steve and Sam. “Hey,” Sam greeted. “What did we miss? We bought drinks.”

Wanda looked over at Natasha as Steve walked in, silently begging her not to finish her sentence from earlier around Steve. Natasha gave her a subtle nod as she attempted to shift the attention to the newcomers.

“Where’s the rest?” Natasha asked as Sam set down his drink on the counter while Steve found a spot beside Wanda.

“Oh,” Sam replied. “I meant we stopped over to buy ourselves drinks from Starbucks. That’s why we’re late.”

“Remind me to start being more specific when I tell  you guys to bring things,” Scott replied with a chuckle, shaking his head. “Anyway, what else were you saying, Tony?”

Tony thought for a second, remembering his train of thought. “Right, so I did some more investigating,” he continued. “And when we were getting into groups for our Shakespeare analysis – I swear I’ve never seen him move this fast, not even at a football game – I saw him join his roomie’s group. He even smiled when she waved at him. I’ve never seen him smile at anyone.” 

“He’s not exaggerating,” Natasha confirmed with an eager nod of her head. “I didn’t even realize they were friends, but it seems like lately they’ve been besties or something. Isn’t she supposed to be your best friend, Steve?”

Steve put his hands up in defense before speaking, his voice just a little too loud and too high to sound calm and collected. “She can do whatever she wants,” he said. 

Although the other boys couldn’t tell, Wanda knew Steve didn’t fully believe the spite in his own words. So coming to her friend’s defense, she joined in. “Yeah, but isn’t Bucky yours?” She asked Natasha, turning the question back to her.

“Chill out,” Natasha shrugged her shoulders. “I was just curious to see if you guys knew anything else.”

“We don’t,” Steve said flatly. “Are we going to play or what?” Natasha and Wanda shared a look, realizing that Steve was feeling a lot more than he was willing to let on, so they accepted his change of subject. The others rushed into the living room as Wanda and Steve stayed behind.

Wanda watched as Steve leaned against the counter, pushing his forehead into his palms as he let out a sigh. Wanda stood beside him facing the opposite way, her elbows leaning against the countertop. Her heart felt heavy at the sight of her distraught best friend.

“Steve,” Wanda began gently but firmly. Steve shook his head, already knowing where this conversation was headed. “Salad. Now.”

Steve let out another sigh, running a hand through his golden hair, and Wanda wasn’t sure if he would answer her, but after a beat, he finally lifted his head. “Lettuce… I’m sad. Chicken… I’m mad. Mostly at myself,” he confessed.

“Why?” Wanda asked quietly.

“For never being brave enough to say anything,” He admitted to Wanda, hanging his head. “It’s just… we have something so good and I didn’t want to lose that. But sometimes…” he trailed off.

“Sometimes what?” Wanda pushed.

“It’s just,” Steve sighed. “Do you remember that time in the eighth grade when the three of us got in that huge fight?”

Wanda let out a dry laugh. “The one where you thought the two of us were dating behind your back because we went to a movie together?”

Steve grew a small but sad smile. “Not just any movie,” he clarified. “You watched The Hunger Games without me. It was my favorite book.”

Wanda nudged him playfully. “Steve, you had the flu,” she reminded him. “We wanted to take you but your mom said if she found out you snuck out and we got the flu from you she would stop making us that sponge cake we like. That would’ve been the end of our 14-year old lives.”

Steve let out a chuckle as he nodded at the memory. “I know,” he continued. “But for a week after that, I felt so left out. Like suddenly you were her best friend and she was yours, and I was the odd one out.”

“Is that why you ghosted us for a whole month?” Wanda asked, eyes wide with surprise as Steve nodded in shame. 

“It was dumb, I know,” he cringed at the memories of that time. “But I think I was jealous. Of you.” 

Wanda snorted a laugh at his comment. “Of me? Oh buddy,” she laughed as she pat Steve on the shoulder.

“I know, I know,” Steve ran his hand through his hair again. “But anyway, I think that’s kind of how I feel right now. Like she’s everything to me… but I’m not to her. And it’s not like she owes me anything… I think I just keep thinking, what could I have done differently?”

Wanda thought through her next words carefully, letting silence rest between the two of them. Well, silence was relative. The others were in the next room arguing about whether or not it was fair to let Peter choose to be Colonel Mustard when he doesn’t know how to play Clue.

 “I can’t say I know what you’re feeling,” Wanda began. “But for me, I think that when I start focusing on things like that, my mind gets stormy. I stop seeing things clearly, and I start doubting myself and the way I fit into my friendships. But then you two always remind me that’s not real. What is real is that I would give everything for the two of you, and if I needed it, both of you would do the same for me. It’s one of the most stable truths of the universe. 

At the same time, I also know that both of you would want me to be happy, and to choose what makes me happy. The same thing I would do for you. And I will always help you to figure out what that is when you can’t see it, like you do for me. When I remember that, the skies clear a little, and I see the sunshine again. I see you guys.”

Wanda turned to Steve, who wiped at a tear forming in the corner of his eye. She gave him a gentle pat on the back and turned to leave him to his own thoughts for a bit. 

Honestly, she was a bit surprised at her own wisdom. She wasn’t usually the friend people came to for advice, but maybe they should start, she thought. She hoped her words got through to Steve, as seeing her best friend hurting was weighing heavily on her as well. She was, however, very excited to tell her pen pal about this situation.

After she made her way into the living room, Natasha moved to sit beside her on the couch, now turned to face the television. “Is he okay?” she asked, nodding towards the kitchen where Steve still stood by himself.

“Yeah, he’s just raiding the leftovers,” Wanda joked. She was lying, but she felt that Steve wouldn’t want to explain to everyone else what had him so emotional.

Natasha nodded, not fully believing her words, but accepting them nonetheless. “Do you wanna play the next round?” She asked instead. 

“Nah,” Wanda pulled out her phone. “I have to work on my letter.”

“Oh to your pen pal right?” Natasha asked. “I can’t believe you’ve been writing to each other since middle school. Why don’t you just ask for his number?” She attempted to look over Wanda’s hands to see what she was writing down.

“Yeah, ask for his number and invite her to the winter formal,” Sam chimed in. “Unless he’s catfishing you.” The group laughed and Wanda laughed along.

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes and continued typing in her note from earlier, updating her letter with the most recent events. However she didn’t get very far before she got a call from Bucky. “Bucky’s calling me?” She asked aloud in surprise.

“Answer him!” They all called in unison, as they looked away from the game to flock towards Wanda, even Steve, who walked in from the kitchen. Wanda looked over to him and he responded with a small smile and a nod, encouraging her to answer the phone.

“Wanda,” Bucky’s voice filled the room from Wanda’s phone speaker. “I need your help.” The group gathered around Wanda all looked at her with wide eyes as they tried to contain their curiosity. However it was Scott who couldn’t hide his gasp, even as Sam slapped his hand over his mouth.

“Hey guys,” Bucky sighed. “Sorry I couldn’t make it but I really need to borrow Wanda for a second.” 

Wanda chuckled as she watched the group disperse with disappointed looks and resume playing their game. She walked back over to the kitchen, and Steve headed for the living room to give her privacy. 

“What’s up Buck?” Wanda asked when she was finally alone.

“Uh,” Bucky sounded like he was thinking about what to say. “How do you feel about a road trip?” 

Wanda couldn’t hide her surprise at the question. “Road trip?” She repeated.

“I can give you the details later,” Bucky said. “But just tell me you’ll come with me.”

“When?” Wanda questioned. “And why me?” 

“Tonight. Right now even,” He sounded panicked and Wanda was beginning to feel the same. “I called you because Natasha already said no.” As if on cue, Natasha had popped her head into the kitchen and Wanda waved her over. 

“Nat,” Wanda began. “Why the hell is Bucky asking me to go on a road trip with him right now?”

Natasha let out a chuckle. “Just hear the poor boy out,” she suggested as Wanda looked at her suspiciously.

“I need to pick up your friend’s dad,” Bucky explained. “Long story short, she was upset he couldn’t make it to the awards, so I reached out to him and basically now he agreed to be here for one night, and his flight is landing soon and the airport is over an hour away and I don’t want to drive alone, but I can’t bring her with me because it’s a surprise and –”

“Woah,” Wanda stopped his rambling with a chuckle. “Long story long, more like.” She looked back at Natasha who raised her eyebrow as if to say See now? Wanda nodded back to her as she let out a hum of thought before an idea popped in her head.

“I’ll come,” Wanda said with a mischievous smile that was hidden by her gentle voice. Bucky let out a sigh of relief, and Wanda could hear his shoulders relax. “But you have to come pick me up from Scott’s house, since I left my car at home.”

“Sure, yeah,” Bucky agreed desperately to her condition. “Thank you so much.”

Twenty minutes later, when the doorbell rang, Wanda almost felt guilty for what she was about to do. But when she thought about it some more, she reminded himself of what she told Bucky just earlier, and her conscience clears just in time for her to open the door to see a panicked Bucky, dressed in sweatpants, a hoodie, and mismatched socks.

Someone will thank me later, she thinks to herself as she pretends to double over in pain. “Wanda?” Bucky asked in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I ate someone’s leftovers,” she pretended to let out a grunt of pain. “And it’s really not agreeing with me,” she cursed under her breath. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can come with you.” She apologized.

“No, no,” Bucky dismissed her. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He walked in and shut the door, leading Wanda to sit down at the dining table as Natasha walked over with a medicine tablet and a glass of water. 

“Here,” she handed them to Wanda. “Don’t worry Bucky, we’ll find someone to fill in.” Before Bucky could protest, Natasha had walked to the living room and came back with a confused and annoyed looking Steve.

“Steve said he’d be glad to go with you,” Natasha beamed. He very much did not look like he was glad to go with Bucky.

“Uh…” Steve began before Natasha nudged him from behind. “Yep, yeah, I’d be happy to… sit in a car with you for an hour and a half… to pick up my best friend’s dad…”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but after looking down to see the time, his eyes widened in worry. “Okay, perfect,” he said instead. “Let’s go before we’re late. Bye you guys, tell the guys I said hey.” and he grabbed Steve’s wrist and headed out the door.

Wanda and Natasha followed behind them, Wanda now forgetting about her act and leaning against the post on the front steps.

“Do you think they’ll hate us?” Wanda asked Natasha as they watched the two boys get into Bucky’s car from the front porch.

“Oh absolutely. For a month at least.”

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Request Statuses

Okay, said I’d do this yesterday, so here it is. I’m not naming who made what specific request here, whether anonymous or not. Just dropping them here so everyone can check on the status of their request.

If you don’t see your request here for whatever reason, please let me know!! I haven’t deleted any since I joined Tumblr, so there is always a chance that it didn’t go through.

I will update this regularly as statuses change; and when I update it, I will update the date next to the link in my Masterpost.

Created 30 Oct 2023

Updated 2 Dec 2023

Tongue Ring (Sanji x Reader)

Status: Accepted, actively in-progress

Only One Bed (Mihawk x Reader)

Status: Accepted, outlining, definitely NSFW and it’s also going to be hilarious

Marine!Reader x whomever of your favorite pirates would be more likely to seduce her to the dark-side.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, definitely going to be Shanks because he absolutely would a thousand times over.

Sanji x picky eater!reader x (possibly) Zoro

Status: Accepted, brainstorming may be more than one part but probably no more than three, definitely going the love triange route and including Zoro.

“Tell them you’re pregnant” story with Ace and/or Sabo

Status: Accepted, but delayed until I get further in the manga, bear with me on that. I will definitely be writing Ace once I re-familiarize with him. This is the first time I’ve reread the manga in probably ten years. I barely scratched the surface with Sabo last time I read, mostly only flashbacks, so I’m not yet familiar with him at ALL.

Headcanons: How the Straw Hats (East Blue crew in particular help each individual member cope/recover when something triggers them.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, may be a few

Sanji x secretly-a-princess!Reader

Status: Accepted, outlining, in development, will be multi-chapter, and there’s going to be a puppy for some reason.

Sanji x curvy!Reader headcanon

Status: Accepted, not yet in development

Too small, oneshot fic(s), Shanks x Reader and possibly others, NSFW

Status: Accepted, in development for Shanks, may or may not do Mihawk as well

Sanji x Reader with eating disorder

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, also researching because it's a subject that deserves to be depicted realistically

OPLA character x S/O!Reader who looks cute and bubbly but is actually quite strong.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, leaning strongly toward Zoro because I love the idea of him with a bubbly lil s/o

Headcanons (inspo from Because I Got High) where reader either gets too messed up from smoke/alcohol or side effects from something like anxiety meds, and character has to comfort/calm them down

Status: Accepted, planning to do Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk, and Buggy, got a little of it drafted out for Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk

OPLA!Sanji and/or Zoro x Reader; drabble on a reader who is older than them (mid 30s), who thinks she is “too old”

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, I’m in my early 30s so heavy relate

Mihawk x Reader; he meets a singer at Baratie and falls for her (likely being in denial over it)

Status: Accepted, not yet in development. Probably going to be a two parter at least, and also shamelessly throwing my own flair in because I sing/play guitar, so reader’s probably going to be a guitarist as well, as long as that’s cool.

General Mishanks request:

Status: Tentatively accepted, probably going to aim toward younger Mishanks (early 20s). I’ve only done one Mishanks headcanon re:how they first met/became rivals, so this is a little out of my ballpark, but I’m willing to give it a try. If I feel I can’t write it in a way that I’m satisfied with, I will let you know.

Comedic NSFW, Mihawk x Reader

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, already cackling like a witch standing over a cauldron over this one

IMihawk x Reader request, fluffy, Mihawk needing a bit of reassurance because he's a bit insecure of how tight Reader's friendship with shanks is becoming

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, will probably start outlining soon. Actually going have something akin to this a bit in my Mihawk x OC fic, Hearing Problems, but it's still going to be a couple chapters down the road before I get there, so this would be a good way to explore the idea.

Headcanons request for Shanks, Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk and Buggy taking Reader to a masquerade ball

Status: Accepted, going to have to study the fundamentals of masquerade balls a lil and decide how I want to go about this exactly. If it's okay a couple of the scenarios may be them meeting Reader AT the ball. Because I feel like Shanks would probably just gatecrash for the hell of it (he heard there was an open bar and just went for it); and the thought of Zoro getting lost and accidentally stumbling into a masquerade ball with no idea what's going on has got me 🤭

Shanks x Reader x Buggy, age gap, Shanks and Buggy get isekai'd into our world, Halloween vibes, further details here

Status: Accepted, early brainstorming stages, this just seems like it would be so much fun thank you 🙏

Mihawk x Reader, proposal

Status: Accepted, will be treated as a sequel to YSAM and Ten Years, details here

[dantooined]

Perhaps

post on ao3

Pairing: Thrawn x Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns used) Word Count: 3.6k Series Rating: Mature (18+ only, minors DO NOT INTERACT) Chapter Summary: Thrawn notices everything, including the way his newest Imperial officer looks at him when she thinks he's not looking - and decides to do something about it. Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, smut, POV Thrawn, xenophilia, no y/n, POV female character, orgasm delay/denial, BDSM, vibrators, voyeurism/public, workplace relationship, light dom/sub, our blue boy is into power play and don't we love him for it

You were pretty sure that time had, somehow, stopped.

Sweat slowly trickled down the back of your neck past your collar, threatening to stain your perfectly starched grey Imperial uniform. The thermoregulators couldn't be malfunctioning since none of your colleagues sitting next to you at the command table seemed to be perspiring like you were. You’d also been in this kriffing meeting for hours, so you wouldn’t be able to pretend like you’d just come from a workout either.

Praying no one would notice, you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible, staring straight at your commander’s blue-skinned face as if this was just another day, just another meeting. Nothing to see here. Nothing to —

“Is there something you’d like to say, lieutenant?” Thrawn suddenly queried, interrupting some moff droning on about last quarter’s numbers.

Your eyes — which were apparently glossed over, damnit— instantly refocused on Thrawn’s piercing red gaze, seemingly beaming straight through you and whatever facade you trying to project. He folded his arms behind him and stared right at you. He knew.

He always knew.

If anyone had been paying attention, they might’ve noticed the room’s apparent background buzz suddenly silenced. One might’ve thought the mild buzzing noise was simply part of the room ambiance, perhaps some monitoring gage simply cycling through. Definitely not something very specifically inside of you, vibrating, and being controlled by the Grand Admiral running this meeting.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, immediately straightening your posture and giving him a curt nod.

The corners of his mouth ever so slightly ticked upwards as he paused for a moment, looking at you, almost baiting you to make the next move. Everyone’s eyes on you, Thrawn secretly pressed a controller hidden in his uniform cufflink to turn your vibrator back on, dialing it up a few notches in an attempt to probably catch you off guard.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you pressed your legs together and bit your tongue. You controlled your breath best you can and stared straight back at him, giving your best impression of a nonplussed Imperial, hoping everyone else in the room would buy it but him. Praying they would all assume the sticky tension in the room was strictly professional, nothing more.

Knowing it was anything but.

The moment passed. Thrawn dipped his head gently and moved on with the meeting’s agenda, deftly guiding the conversation with his usual brilliance and aptitude. You had to admit that you admired him for it. There was no one else like Grand Admiral Thrawn, even if these middle management Imperials couldn’t get over themselves enough to ever admit it. He was special. Incredible, really. Always came out on top, always in charge, always the victor.

This entire situation revolved around that dynamic. You loved it. But today, you wanted to tease the Grand Admiral. Show him that you were more than just a plaything, a pet. Two could play this game, surely. Had anyone ever called Thrawn’s bluff successfully and lived to tell the tale? Something sinful inside of you needed to know. Needed to watch him lose his cool for once.

What would it look like to see his blue skin blush?

—-

When you had first been transferred to The Chimaera, you thought your instant admiration for him was for his clear prowess in the battlefield, incredibly able to calculate and strategize several steps ahead seemingly on the spot. Everyone else was terrified of him, but you found yourself drawn to his quiet, restrained kind of power. You couldn’t help yourself, like a moth to a flame. It should have scared you, how much you were drawn to him - but it never did.

And then, one day, when you were personally tasked with bringing Thrawn a report, his red, glowing eyes locked with yours for the first time … and you felt like you were on fire. A warm, devastating flame that melted your heart into some kind of lava now flowing through your veins. You suddenly knew you would do anything for this man. He knew it too, even then.

Months passed, and you both gravitated more and more towards each other, like two suns irretrievably trapped in orbit. A lingering touch as he passed by your console. A stolen glance as you passed each other in the hallway. Soon, Thrawn requested for you to be on his personal detail, insisting on all non-urgent communications while off-duty being run through you. You thought your heart might explode.

The two of you quickly became familiar, even almost friendly; a tentative bond that only strengthened with more time and experience. You made sure you never let him down. You were always on time, always ready, always prepared.

You’d also convinced yourself that you put your best foot forward because you admired him. But in the middle of the night when you touched yourself thinking about all the ways you wished he would, you knew better. And up until today, even though you’d desperately wanted to, you’d never made a move.

He was a Grand Admiral. You were just a lieutenant. What if you’d been reading this all wrong? You couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk losing whatever this was.

So when he unexpectedly called you into this office before this meeting, you’d slightly panicked. Thrawn never did anything unintentionally, but meeting alone in his office was highly unusual, even for him. And as you briskly walked the ship’s hallways towards his office, you tried to run through every possible scenario or reason for being called in so unexpectedly. Stopping in front of his door, you ran your shaking hands over your hair and pulled down your crisp uniform tightly to make sure you’d at least look at pulled together as possible before going inside.

You held your breath as you opened the door.

—-

Grand Admiral Thrawn was nothing if not always prepared. Always analyzing, always dissecting, always watching. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help that life always seemed so … predictable.

Which is why art had become such a deep fascination: it was expressive, unique, even volatile at times. A true artist knew the rules and knew how to break them. Privately, he liked to think of himself as an artist of sorts, albeit the strategic and militaristic type. Humans rarely appreciated his kind of art, however.

It initially bothered him, but he’d eventually learned to set aside any feelings of unappreciation. He'd told himself that feeling wanted wasn’t practical, and that was that.

But the last few months with his lieutenant had proven unique. There was a warmth, a kind of delicious heat that accompanied so many of their interactions, especially as of late. initially, Thrawn hadn't recognized it for what it was, having practically blinded himself to anything regarding carnal desire. Humans more often than not had exhibited xenophobic tendencies with him, so he forgave himself for his initial misgivings about the matter.

However, it couldn't now be any clearer how his lieutenant felt, and that knowledge set something inside of him aflame. Feeling admired, feeling wanted, feeling appreciated... Thrawn realized a rare opportunity. Perhaps instead of just being an artist… he could also, in a way, be the art.

The idea both thrilled and terrified him, which thrilled him even more.

Thrawn was so used to being the one in power, the one making the call. What would it be like to give in to physical pleasures and just be... desired? He had never done that before.

Curiosity piqued, he rationalized to himself that he could surely still be in control while allowing himself to be admired. After all, how could he call himself a lover of art if he hadn’t done everything he could to fully understand it?

And after months of painstakingly setting the ground for what could be a most fascinating experiment, Thrawn was more than ready to test that theory.

—-

“Hello? … Grand Admiral?” You voiced, tentatively.

A moment, then you heard his familiar timbre call out, “In here, lieutenant.”

Licking your lips and ignoring that fluttering feeling in your chest, you started towards the Grand Admiral, smoothing your uniform nervously while glancing down at your polished boots walking towards the unknown.

As you entered the room, you quickly looked up to address Thrawn. Instantly, your brain short circuited at the immediate image you saw with your mouth agape.

Thrawn had clearly just been sparring with two robots, now standing up from what must have been an intense sparring session based on the sheen of sweat dappling his muscular body.

He wasn’t in his standard Imperial white uniform either, but rather, a black tank that stuck to the ripples of his chest like a second skin. Below, trim grey pants that matched and smartly covered his toned body. His typical sky blue skin was a deeper, more vibrant cerulean, practically glistening in the light. His typically slicked back dark hair was slightly tousled, spare strands hanging down and framing his angular face, making him look ever so slightly undone instead of the typical calm and collected commander. Almost … wild.

He glanced up at you with a gaze so intense you thought you might pass out on the spot.

“Rukh”, Thrawn commanded, instantly turning off the bots and officially ending the spar session.

As he righted himself, you straightened up your posture and tried to look as professional as possible, starkly contrasting Thrawn’s apparently casual approach to this meeting.

“Lieutenant, thank you for coming here so quickly,” he said, chest still heaving gently from the workout. Running his hand through his damp hair absentmindedly, he continued, motioning over to his data pad on his desk. “There’s … something I think you should see.”

You cautiously circled around behind his desk to look at the data pad, only to see a series of videos — of yourself.

Security camera footage of you on your shifts, walking down hallways, even in the mess hall. Your heart racing, you turned to face Thrawn with a quizzical look on your face.

“…Sir?” You queried.

“Tell me what you notice about this footage, lieutenant.” Thrawn responded, now beside you, eyes slightly narrowing as they locked with yours.

Gulping, you turned back to the data pad and looked more closely at the screen. You focused on the top video first, noticing that it was from a meeting only a few days ago, led by Thrawn himself. Scanning to the next video, you saw yourself on deck standing next to Thrawn during a battle presentation. And as you looked at the third video on the data pad where Thrawn walked by you in the mess hall, you gasped.

These weren’t just videos of you. They were videos of you and Thrawn.

And - dank ferrick - you quickly realized exactly what else they had in common.

The footage from the meeting slowly zoomed in on your face as Thrawn went over strategy, clearly picking up the way you chewed your lip watching him. While Thrawn was leading The Chimaera to battle, you were clearly staring at the Grand Admiral with glossy, half-lidded eyes. Kriff, were you rubbing your legs together? You watched in horror as you saw how the security camera caught the way your eyes hungrily flicked down Thrawn’s body as he passed by in the mess hall, only to bite your lip as you watched him walk away.

The air was suddenly too thick to breathe, your uniform collar unbearably stiff. You knew you had it bad for your commander, but had no idea how kriffing obvious it was to anyone who was watching. Panicking, you dropped his data pad on the desk and moved to step back from him, unsure of what you could possibly say to remedy this situation. But before your legs managed to make the first step, Thrawn’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, instantly stilling you.

“Lieutenant,” he said, almost purring, still holding on to you tightly. “I don’t believe I’ve relieved you of duty yet.”

“Y-yes sir,” you stammered. “Of c-course, sir, I didn’t want-“

“Oh, but you did want, lieutenant,” Thrawn coolly interrupted as he turned from his desk to face you, your wrist now helplessly held in front of his expansive chest, your body burning under his assessment.

You felt something stirring in your lower body but impossibly tried to control your features so you didn’t do anything stupid. Like think about how he was still touching you. Or how incredible his chest probably looks right now. Or the glint in his eyes that felt like a double-edged sword right up against your throat.

“I typically prefer my officers to be observant and thoughtful,” Thrawn continued. “But perhaps, for the moment, thinking is not what this situation requires.”

So you just stood there, dumbly, desperately, simply staring at your commander like you were waiting for orders. And maybe you were.

“Lieutenant,” Thrawn continued as he let go of your trembling wrist, hungrily watching it fall next to your thigh. “I believe you to be a fine officer, one who can and has operated with discretion. Someone trustworthy. Do you believe that evaluation to be correct?”

“Yes, sir.” You stammered, heat pooling in your chest. “And it’s been an honor to work more closely with you, sir.”

He lazily drew his eyes back up to your face, grinning, subconsciously reminding you of a loth-wolf stalking its prey. You chewed your lip nervously, not missing how his red eyes immediately darted towards your mouth upon doing so.

“Closely, indeed.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his tongue peek out and wet his lips.

Thrawn then cocked his head at you and slowly moved to your right, continuing to look you up and down as if he were appraising a fine work of art. You stood there with your heart racing, eyes locked ahead, body at full attention.

“You also have an impeccable record and have been a loyal servant to the Empire.”

Thrawn paused behind your shoulder and reached around you, grabbing your chin and tilting it back towards him. “And, subsequently, loyal to me.”

Your face, inches away from his, blushed furiously. “Yes, Grand Admiral,” you breathed.

It’s intense. More intense than it should be.

Thrawn carefully leaned in towards your ear, his breath heating the back of your neck and causing your skin to gooseflesh instantly.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

You could practically hear yourself dripping.

“Lieutenant,” Thrawn started, regaining his composure and folding his arms behind him as he started to gently walk around the room. “I brought you in here today to prove a theory of mine. One that I have been holding for months, truly curious what might come of it.”

You nervously watched as the Grand Admiral paced the floor, something you’d seen him do a hundred times during battle. There was something so strong, so compelling about how he owned the room, how he was always three steps ahead of everyone else. But as you watched him now, muscles gently rippling as he moved, stripped of his typical uniform and into something so casual, you thought he’d never looked more powerful. And it thrilled you.

It wasn’t until a few moments later you realized he had stopped talking and was watching you, watching him. Wait, was your mouth open?

You quickly clenched your jaw and shook your head to come back to reality only to see him shoot you a sly smile as he continued.

“The video surveillance was merely a tool to easily show you what I had already noticed. And, seeing you today, so willing … I believe my theory to be correct.”

You gulped. “Willing, sir?”

Thrawn stopped pacing and stared out of the transparisteel viewport on the far side of the room. You could see his red eyes burning in the reflection, their smoldering intensity surpassing the twinkling stars outside.

“Perhaps,” he mused.

—-

“Perhaps,” Thrawn remarked with a wave of his hand, dismissing the captain’s concerns about … wait, what are they talking about? Kriff. You’d been thinking back to how this all started and clearly lost focus in the current meeting.

It didn’t help that you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs by this point. He had clearly been slowly ramping the vibrator up as the meeting progressed, wanting to see how much you could take before one of you broke. If you moved your hips back just a bit, you could probably end this all right now—

You gritted your teeth in frustration. No, you could do this. You were practically panting and squirming so much it was surely distracting the other meeting attendees, but you couldn't think about them right now. Not when you were this worked up and affected. Glancing over at Thrawn, you expected to see him as calm as always. However, you noticed something small that made your entire chest go white hot.

He was clenching his fist. A moff was talking about hyperspace fuel routes and Grand Admiral Thrawn looked as tense as a leader in battle.

He must be just as affected as you were.

Playing with fire, you decided to tempt fate and stick out your chest ever so slightly. This ended up backfiring as your pelvis rocked back and sent pleasant electric shocks up your body nearly taking you over the edge. You were so wet. Your mouth slightly opened and eyelids grew heavy with the new pressure, instantly captivating Thrawn as he immediately looked your way, unable to help himself. You absentmindedly wondered if Chiss men had heightened senses of smell.

In an attempt to rein it all in, you cleared your throat and slowly leaned back, regaining that Imperial stiff upper lip everyone in this room would expect. Thrawn continued to stare at you, a slight purple seeming flushing his cheeks. So that’s what it looks like.

“Pardon me,” you began. “This meeting has unexpectedly gone over and I’m needed elsewhere urgently.”

“I’m afraid I must also join the Lieutenant,” Thrawn immediately added as he scooted his chair back. It seemed as if he was about to stand, but then thought otherwise and remained seated, crossing his legs. “Might you summarize the remainder of your findings so we may conclude this meeting?”

... Wait, why didn’t Thrawn just end the meeting? It took you a moment of frustration until you realized gleefully that he must be unable to stand.

Biting back a smile from this heady realization, you nodded at Thrawn and turned your attention back to the moff, who was clearly planning on berating a lieutenant for interrupting him until Thrawn threw his support behind you. That’s not the only part of Thrawn I want behind me —

As if he could hear your dirty thoughts, Thrawn decided to punish you and turned the vibrator up even higher. You could have screamed in any other circumstance, but your immense need to beat Thrawn at his own game managed to somehow hold it all together. Everything inside of you was whirring around, flowing like hot lava through your veins, pulsing to a rhythm only you and the Grand Admiral could hear. The buzzing seemed so loud; surely even these Imperial dolts were catching on by now, you worried.

You didn’t dare look away and see what Thrawn’s face looked like. It would send you over the edge for sure. Seeing a man with such power and such control being completely undone — by your pleasure — was almost too much to even think about.

You knew this was not how he thought this “exercise in self-control” would go, and you knew he was going to punish you for disobeying him. You hoped he would. Hoped he would take you back to his room and take you in front of that transparisteel viewport in front of all the stars, all the galaxy watching you —

“Lieutenant.” The moff quipped dryly. “Are you well? You seem quite distracted. Surely a matter of this importance is not boring you.”

Snapping back to reality, your eyes focused on their displeased face and tried to think of the first thing to say that wasn’t drenched in the filth that almost fully occupied your mind right now.

“Of course not,” you responded, fidgeting with the hem of your uniform. “I just want to respect the Grand Admiral’s schedule and conclude this meeting as quickly as possible. Do you not share the same goal?”

It was borderline bratty, you knew. You couldn’t help it. Not with this vibrator pulsing inside of you, threatening to undo you at any given moment.

You didn’t even have to look at Thrawn to feel his small smirk spread across his face.

“The Lieutenant is quite right,” Thrawn purred. “Please continue with the meeting, so the rest of the room may be up to speed. Forgive me as I take my leave to attend to other pressing matters.”

The purple blush from his face seemingly cleared, Thrawn stood up decisively and pushed his chair back into the table, turning to leave. You froze, not sure if you were able to leave or were being asked to stay. You weren’t even sure you would be able to physically get up and walk out the door, if you were being honest. Maybe Thrawn had won after all, and he was leaving you here to continue to suffer as a punishment.

The Grand Admiral paused, and looked back over his shoulder. “Are you joining me, Lieutenant?”

In that moment, you knew he would never leave you like that. He needed to watch you, needed to see you suffer for him. Leaving you with a bunch of stuffy middle management to enjoy your suffering? Thrawn was a connoisseur, a patron, a purveyor of the arts. He wasn’t about to let one of his most intriguing artistic endeavors blossom without him. He needed you, needed to enjoy what he’s done to you.

You could suddenly see it in his eyes. The hunger. The appetite. The quiet pleading.

Oh.

The surge of power was almost too delicious to bear. Knowing you were actually the one truly in control, you grinned, wickedly.

“Perhaps,” you quipped.

[the-era-of-shadow]

Hi, I think it's about time I give you another update

The last one was in December 2023, I think? New Year's Eve.

Most of what I described in that post has come and gone - and then some, and other stuff mentioned more vaguely is more near future than distant, and I can be more direct!

But first, I wanna bring up the video that's meant to go with Musings. The big one that I said would cost me some to have what I need for it. It's still in production! It's just. A lot. I'm hoping for it to come out within the year. I bet that makes it clear as to just how much I've taken on. Whoops-

In the meantime, I do have a LOT more of a simplistic video in the works that ties into Musings less directly! And also the next part of Vanilla's Self Reports should be coming soon too!

But now, onto the fics!

The pinned post has been updated a few times between these two updates - but I'd like to point out that it was updated again today! I think I mentioned it before in December's update, but I have a schedule that goes all the way to the end of Arc 2 - and I am slowly drip feeding it to you! - Here's today's rations :]

[MINI FIC] What is Paradise? - Release: June 30th

[FULL FICS] Mission: FOX FRENZY & Mimicry of A Rivalry - Dual Release! Release Date has been internally decided, but I'm not gonna put that info out publicly just yet - just in case I have to delay for whatever reason

[MINI (probably?) FIC] This is Who We Are - Release Date Unknown - will be after MFF & MoaR

[MULTI CHAPTER] The Day The Moon Died Act 2 Case 02: The Report of An Unreliable Narrator - Release Date(s) Unknown - Will be after TiWWA

Also, make sure to stay tuned into the @violet-hill-saga blog~

That's all I needed to say for now! I'll try to make these updates more frequent, I swear ^^

[daemonoferror]

Asgard's Bard- Chapter 3

TW Phobia of birds, swears, Heimdall not being in a heimdall x reader fic.

Summary: Odin got you a gift, how nice of him! Also PROBABLY musical historical inaccuracies? Sheet music definitely is wrong. But I tried my best. My defense is if it's wrong, the dwarves or Aesir probably invented it early, okay?

--------

You're grateful when sunlight floods your room and signifies the start of a new day. At best you got in a nap, but you aren't tired. You feel energized, and the sun rising finally means it's a reasonable time to get out of your room.

Before leaving you made sure to grab the talharpa and its bow off the wall. It's not as familiar to you as the lyre, but it's close enough. You're just excited to play something at the pub, a personal mission in mind to breathe life into the space often occupied by the dead warriors.

You step out of your room and to the hall. You set the instrument on the table, and get a plate of food. It occurs to you that you could eat at the pub, but perhaps it's better to delay your arrival, as to not be cooped up in a tavern all day long. You sit down with a large plate of food, and an herbal drink with it. It looks and smells delicious. You only get a few bites in before a booming voice behind you makes you jump, almost choking on your food.

"Bard." Thor says. You start coughing, sending little shocks of pain through your back. You had almost forgotten that pain, your soft bed doing wonders for it while you laid awake, antsy.

"Thor!" You exclaim through your final coughs, taking a drink to help. "You startled me. How may I help you?" You clear your throat.

He stares you down, and you cannot see a single thought behind those sad eyes. "The All-Father is waiting for you outside." He says after a moment.

"This early? What for?" Thor shrugs, but for a split second there's a smile on his lips that he has to force back. He clearly knows something, but you'll let it slide. "Well, can I finish my breakfast first?" You ask, it'd be so sad to throw away a perfect meal.

Thor seems to think for a minute. A long minute, long enough to make you wonder if he's telepathically communicating with the All-Father for an answer. "Yes." He says at last, and he sounds confident in the answer. So much so he sits down next to you, making you smile as you take another bite and thank him for his patience. "What's that?" He asks, pointing at the talharpa.

"It's an intrustment, pretty similar to a lyre or harp, just with a bow string." You explain in between bites of food.

He chuckles, "I had thought your instrument came with a weapon." He says, pointing at the bow for it.

It makes you snort, "Ha! Yeah, you might get one good wack in, but it couldn't hold an arrow if that's where your mind goes."

"Good to know." He jokes, though he seems to seriously take note of the information.

"I was going to play it at the tavern today." You mention in between bites, "I guess that'll have to wait a while now." You mumble.

"I'll bring it with me. Was heading there anyways." Thor offers immediately. He reaches out for the instrument, and picks it up with more care than you'd expect- like he'd break it if he wasn't extremely gentle.

Figuring you'd be tired or busy with whatever the All-Father needed you for, you protest "Sure, but the All-Father's-" Thor interrupts you.

"It won't take you all day." Thor dismisses with a shrug, "probably." He tacks on. He's smiling again, and something tells you he's not great at keeping secrets. Part of his no thinking policy, perhaps. At least it reassures you whatever the All-Father wants isn't dangerous, or grueling. It's exciting, and encourages you to eat faster.

You shrug, and agree to let Thor take the instrument with him. "Alright. Thank you, Thor." He only grunts in response. You try to chat a little longer as you finish your meal, but the conversation dies fast. Thor doesn't seem to like speaking more than he has to, and clearly nothing else you have to say is interesting enough to him. Still, he must appreciate your company because he stays by your side until you finish eating.

The empty dishes clatter a bit as you stack them together and pick them up, sliding out of your seat to properly put them away. "I'm gonna head out." Thor tells you as you clean up, standing up with the talharpa in hand. He didn't wait for you to say goodbye before he started to leave, and soon after you'd follow after him out of the great hall.

All-Father is waiting right outside for you. He smiles when you step out, and extends his arms to you. "Ah! There you are!"

"Apologies for being late-" you start, you had no right to keep a god- much less the All-Father- waiting.

"No, no, don't worry about it. You're here now, that's the important part. C'mere, there's somethin' important I need your help with." Odin beckons you to follow him, but you're weary. A few feet away is a swirling circle of black feathers, just like the one Odin had stepped into yesterday, and been swarmed by ravens before disappearing. It was deeply unsettling to you. You knew of tales of Odin using the birds to travel, but it seems quite impractical and truthfully horrifying in person. Imagining a raven full of hatred flying straight at you made you grimace, and had you frozen in place. Odin recognizes the fear in your expression, walks beside you, and pats your shoulder, "I know, it's scary the first few times. But they're harmless. They can't move you anywhere if you don't allow 'em to, and it's so fast you don't even notice you left the ground. It'll be fine!" He reassures you, and gives you a gentle shove to make you stumble a couple feet. It's exactly what you needed to remind yourself you can walk, taking a few small steps towards the circle.

You do your damnedest to steel your nerves. You have to trust the All-Father, and you don't want to waste his time. So with a deep breath and one big step, you enter the circle.

"Ha! There you go!" Odin laughs, standing beside you as you squeeze your eyes tight. The flapping of wings and occasionally squawk makes you flinch. Hundreds of birds circling you almost like prey- it feels nightmarish. For a split second the ground is gone from under you, and your heart drops to your stomach. You nearly collapsed on the ground when it's over. You try to catch your breath, not quite sure where it went in the first place, a hand over your pounding heart.

Odin chuckles, "See? Not that bad." But his expression falls, seeing how shaken up you are, "Eh, well, you'll get used to it." He dismisses. Yeah, you'll get used to it, you repeat to yourself. It was only for a second, you're okay. Once your breathing evens and the ground beneath you feels stable under you, the realization you're in a new place sinks in, and you look up.

It's the middle of a city. There's a large statue next to you of Odin- at least the depiction of him you knew before meeting him. The town seems to be built around the lush greenery of the realm, the beauty of which could make you jealous compared to Midgard. It's extremely humid, almost unbearably so. The most stunning part though is the architecture. Small circular houses and buildings built into the landscape. Everything looks expertly crafted, with ornate details.

"Welcome to Svartalfheim." Odin says, and the name instantly clicks with you. The home realm of the dwarves. The craftsmanship makes sense, then. "Follow me." Odin commands, and you do as told, tripping over your feet a bit, excited to see more of the land's beauty. "So," All-Father begins as you walk. Out of nowhere one of his terrible ravens swoops out of the sky, straight towards you. Terrified, you duck, but the bird lands perfectly on Odin's shoulder. "Muninn found this last night." You straighten your posture to look at what All-Father was holding. A torn piece of paper. "I'm assume it's yours?"

The poem. Shit. Throwing it to the ground probably wasn't the best idea. Should've burned it instead. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry, let me just-" you go to take the page from him. He obviously tries to hold it away from you, but he's slow. It's enough to make you pause and give up, though, to ensure you don't seem rude.

"Eh, don't worry about it. Just know for future reference, Asgard had very strict rules against littering." He chuckles, "I take it your first time meeting Heimdall wasn't all you imagined?"

"Not- quite." You say begrudgingly, reminding yourself you're speaking to his father, the All-Father, who might not appreciate someone speaking negatively of his son.

"Yeah, he can be an asshole." Odin laughs, and his blunt reply makes you laugh too. "What'd he do now? Insult you? Yell at you? Accuse you of treachery?"

"Sort of all of it." You admit. The two of you walk across a bridge, which Odin stops in the middle of and turns to you.

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. You'll have to excuse Heimdall. He takes his job very seriously and- and, well, I think he worries." Odin shrugs with a heavy sigh. He nods to himself, satisfied with his answer, and continues walking.

"Worried? He knocked me to the ground instead of just asking me to step away from the lift. I'm sure he was so worried." You grumble to yourself sarcastically. You could almost feel the sharp pain in your stomach where the hilt of the sword hit you.

"Yes!" Odin answers despite you clearly not trying to speak to him. You worry you've struck a nerve, he seems passionate while he explains, "He's especially particular about no one going up on that wall. Thor went up there when he was drunk once, right? Dumb bastard lost his balance and fell off." You gasp! You had no idea! You'd never heard a story about it before either. All-Father just shrugs, "He had mjölnir, he was fine! But Heimdall hasn't liked anyone else on the wall since." His expression softens, he seems to realize he told a secret not meant to be shared and quickly tacks on, "ah, I probably shouldn't have mentioned it- it's a sore topic to both of em. You won't say anything, will ya?" He chuckles, a little embarrassed. He's like any other parent realizing they telling an embarrassing story about their kids.

"Of course not." You promise with a big smile. You could write a song about the great fall the God of Thunder took off the wall, and the horrified look the Watcher of the Aesir wore as he witnessed it. Except that seems like an excellent way to make an enemy of two gods, and would not bode well for you.

"Good. We're almost there, it's this building right up ahead." All-Father directs the both of you back on track. You can hear muffled music from inside. It's not a tune you recognize, in fact it sounds unfinished, by the sudden pauses after a note that didn't quite fit in, followed by the same melody with a new note. Still, the parts you could hear were beautiful, and the chance to meet a fellow bard was one you always met with excitement.

--

The building you enter is a forge. The heat inside doesn't offer relief from the humidity outside. In the corner of the room, the one furthest from the furnaces and other equipment, was a dwarf, sitting on the floor with an instrument in his lap. "Ah, All-Father. We were starting to wonder when you would arrive." He says curtly, without looking up or breaking from playing.

"All-Father!" Another dwarf drops what she's working on with a surprise gasp, turning to the both of you.

"Yeah yeah, it's me." Odin addresses the startled blacksmith. "Is it ready yet?" He asks impatiently.

"Yeah, of course! I put it away so it wouldn't get dirty. I'll go get it." She doesn't wait for a response before shuffling off to a connecting room. Odin seems annoyed by this, crossing his arms and tapping his foot as he waits.

In the meantime you walk over and address the guy playing music, "That song is beautiful."

His eyes dart up to look at you, seemingly accessing if you could be mocking him. "Thank you." He says, with a little semblance of a proud smile. "It's still a work in progress, something is off, just can't place what."

"Maybe you could try-" All-Father interrupts you, just now noticing you two talking.

"Ah, yes" He introduces you to the man and then tries to do the reverse, "and this is, uh, uh-" he snaps his fingers, as if trying to remember as best he can the man's name.

It goes on for an embarrassing long time until the man gives in, "Raeb." He answers for the All-Father.

"Raeb, Raeb, of course. He's a... uh. I don't know? A musician of some sort?" All-Father states with a shrug. He's clearly disinterested, but perhaps feels it important to talk, even if he has nothing to say.

"Sure." Raeb doesn't agree or disagree, but is clearly irritated. There's obvious tension between the dwarves and Odin. Neither of them seems to like the other, or even want to tolerate the other's presence. But the All-Father has been nothing but kind to you, even without being an Aesir. So the hate doesn't make much sense to you. "And you are the new 'bard of Asgard'? I am riddled with envy." He says dryly, words saturated with sarcasm. The smile on his face tells you he's joking, but the remark makes Odin scoff.

"You do not have to converse with him. It's probably best to ignore him." He advises you. Raeb takes this as his que to turn his attention back to his music.

You frown and tell him, "it's always nice to meet a fellow bard, though."

"Likewise." Is his short response, not looking back at you, indicating the interaction was over. At the same time, the other dwarf re-enters.

"People gotta stop moving my things." She mumbles under her breath. "Sorry bout that! Here it is." She beams.

She holds out a lyre, like the one you had at home, but so much grander. It's made of a red wood, with the sides plated in gold. It's covered in engravings, and you can tell it took a lot of effort and care to create. It's a beautiful instrument, and with a nod of approval, the woman walks past Odin to hand it over to you. You think this must be what had Thor so happy, the surprise All-Father had planned, but you didn't assume anything until it was in your hands. You treat it as if it's made of glass and easy to break, beford slowly looking to Odin with a speechless grin.

"Well? Play it. Make sure it's in tune and such." He encourages you, and very carefully you strum the lyre. It plays perfectly, and the strings glow a soft gold after they've been plucked.

"What-" you mutter in shock, turning the lyre back to you to watch the glow settle, the strings returning to their natural color.

Raeb speaks up at your wanderment, "I prefer mechanical elements to mine, but magic works just the same. Sort of." He mutters the last part with a shrug.

"Raeb was a big help. Don't let him fool you, he was so excited someone wanted a musical instrument. He had so much fun designing it." The lady, who apparently will stay unnamed, tells you.

"Well, it was all my idea. Unless you hate it. If you hate it, then... er, I don't know why we came here, why're we here?" All-Father looks around the room as if he's just an old man with a failing memory. When he's done with the bit, he laughs, "You don't hate it though, do you?"

"No, I love it, it's gorgeous! Thank you!" You beam brightly, holding the lyre close to your chest.

"Glad to hear it. In that case, we shouldn't linger. I have another matter I need to discuss with you." Odin kind of abruptly turns to the door, starting to leave without another word.

"Oh. Yeah, well- good day to the both of you!" You tell the dwarves as you leave so you can keep up with All-Father. Raeb waves to you in reply. A little ways away from the store, another circle of ravens are forming, and you feel your stomach twist. "What is it you want to discuss?"

"Well, it'll be easier to explain back at my study. There's a piece of music I want to give you. It's special, though, I found it while exploring the realms." His explanation stopped short as he stepped into the circle. He looks at you and frowns at your apparent uncertainty. "You ready?"

You take a deep breath and nod. You take a big step into the circle and stand beside him. As you close your eyes tight and hold your breath, Odin grips your shoulder. The birds flock around you, and it's still just as terrifying as before, but this time your brain knows enough to block it out, like a performance you were nervous about. The hand on your shoulder reassured you, to. When your feet didn't touch the floor, you figured it had to be already because Odin didn't budge in the slightest.

When it was over, All-Father patted your shoulder before stepping away. You breathe out and open your eyes. You're in Odin's study, and he's already scouring through each shelf and drawer for the piece of music.

"So, you've noticed all the snow in midgard, right?" Odin mentions as he searches.

"It's fimbulwinter, isn't it? You inquire. It had been here for over a year, with non-stop snow, but some people were still insistent that there was no way fimbulwinter had started.

"Yes, unfortunately." Odin sighs. He grabs a book and flips through it, stopping on a certain page and tearing it out. "But, I have a hunch that this can stop it." He grins and holds the paper up. "The title roughly reads 'rebirth of spring'. I found it originally carved in stone in Alfheim, and wrote it down in hopes one day I would find someone talented enough to play it."

"And I'm that someone?" You try to feign confidence and not laugh picturing yourself as some hero.

"Exactly. Now take this," he pushes the paper into your hand. "And I want you to take the next few days to learn it. Can you do that?" You look at the sheet music, it seems simple enough.

"Yes. A few days is all I need." You assure him with a nod, and he chuckles. In a few days you might regret promising that much, though.

"Good, that's what I want to hear! Go on, I've got some work to catch up on- and hey! Now so do you!" He laughs, shooing you away as he returns to his desk. As you leave he calls out to you, "Oh! And you are becoming a wonderful addition to Asgard!"

The affirmation makes your smile so big it hurts your face. You're not just a midgardian getting in the way, you're a useful member of Asgard! It feels amazing, and powerful. You walk proudly back to your room.

You sit down at your desk, lyre in hand and sheet music in front of you. With your new found confidence, you pick the first measure of notes. You think you do it correctly, but the notes sour when you play, instead of glowing gold, the strings glow a blood red. Your eyebrows furrow, and you try again, slower to ensure it's right. Once again the chords sour. Not only do the strings glow red, but an unnaturally quick annoyance falls over you. You grit your teeth and fix your posture. You huff, "okay. It's just dissonance. It's supposed to sound bad, songs do it to create interest. Just. Keep. Going."

You play the next measure, and it sounds worse than the first. "Shit." You cursed under your breath, "am I playing in the wrong scale or something?" You check, but there's nothing written to indicate one way or another. You still try adjusting the notes and replay the song. It's an improvement, but there's still some bad notes that irk you. You try to push through them and continue the song with hope it'll improve.

You play for hours, you start to lose track of time. Adjusting the notes only does so much to fix the music, and no matter how much you try to push past it, the awful sound grinds on you, makes you impatient and angry. Your teeth could just shatter from how tightly your jaw is clenched. The sound is terrible and hurts your ears. The strings do more than glow, they start to burn with every bad note you play. You don't even notice the cracks forming in the ground beneath your feet.

Something snaps within you after playing a particularly awful measure. You shoot up from the chair- knocking it over in the process- and throw the lyre down. "Shit! Fuck, fuck! Fuck this!" You scream, clasping your hands over your ears and crouch down. You can't recall ever being this angry over something so simple. Music takes patience, you know that. You shouldn't be mad, you just are.

"What are you throwing a tantrum about?" Sif's annoyed voice in your doorway catches you off guard.

"It's not me! It's this fucking lyre!" You yell. You stand up, stomp, and point at the offending instrument.

"You need to calm down." Sif orders, "I will not stand for this tone of yours." Her voice is fierce and not to be trifled with.

You scoff, but she stays and watches you pace around your room for as long as it takes you to calm down. "Why're you here?" You ask, wishing she wasn't as the anger tugged at you.

"Thor asked me to drop this off for him." She raises up the talharpa for you to see, before setting it in its place on the wall. "He was disappointed you didn't show up today."

The rage quickly switched to guilt. You promised Thor to play at the pub, but you had forgotten all about it by now! "Oh no! I didn't mean to, I didn't realize it's gotten so late!" You whine, putting your head in your hands.

"My husband does not need more reasons to drink. He needs to be a father to his daughter. It's probably for the better you didn't go." Sif assures you. She enters your room, picking the chair and lyre off the ground. "It seems you've been busy anyways. What are you working on?" She asks, tilting her head as she notices the music sheet on the desk.

"All-Father wants me to learn this in the next few days." You flop down on the bed as you explain. "But it sounds terrible."

"Hm. Did All-Father write this?" She wonders allowed as she reads over it.

"He copied it from a stone carving." You explain with a sigh, an ache in your back as you try to relax into the mattress.

"So maybe he just wrote it down wrong. Suppose we change the notes so they fit basic music theory?" She suggests and looks over at you.

"What? No! This is important, I need to play it just as it's written. There's no way the All-Father would mess this up." You protest and shoot up in bed.

"Sometimes it's necessary to break the rules." Sif states with an almost mischievous grin.

"Not when it's from the All-Father! I'm sure he'd know-" Sif cuts you off.

"The All-Father is an," she scoffs, "intelligent man. But he's called All-knowing because he wants to know everything. Not because he does know everything. If he did, he could play this piece without your help." She hands you the lyre back, and sits down in the chair across from you. "You need to be more confident in your own abilities. Forget this song for a minute." She slides it further down the desk, out of your sight. "Why don't you play a song you're familiar with?"

You don't know if you feel like playing after earlier, but you still ask, "like what?" To humor her.

"I don't know. What's the first song you learned?" A lullaby. You hadn't played it in years, but without much thought your fingers pluck the right strings. It's simple and sweet, but you get lost in playing it. The strings are a soft glowing warmth under your fingertips, no longer violent and burning like earlier. You start to feel tired as the song ends, and even Sif yawns. "That was lovely. Do more of that." She compliments as she rises for the chair.

"Thank you." You speak quietly and rub your tired eyes. You might actually be able to sleep tonight, you think.

"It's late. Get some sleep, worry about fixing All-Father's mess in the morning." Sif wishes you a goodnight before leaving your room, closing the door behind her.

Before you go to bed you play the lullaby one more time. You fall asleep only halfway through it.

[misslisamiray]

A little delayed, but finally, here's Chapter 6 of Down With the Rickness! Those of you who remember the excerpts I posted before I started posting actual chapters may notice this features two of them, but longer now! New chapter is below the cut.

Back on Earth, Morty was looking for a place to hide the portal gun. He thought about just putting it back in the garage, but no – that would be the first place Rick would look once he noticed it was missing. After a few minutes of thinking and realizing there really wasn’t a “good” place to hide it, he decided that under his bed was as good a place as any.

“Rick will probably be out for a while. But I think I’ll need help once he wakes up. Better find Dad.” the boy said to himself. He decided to get dressed for the day, since going back to bed was clearly not an option, then went to find Jerry.

“Dad? You here? You didn’t listen to Rick and go next door after all, did you? Dad?” he called, walking through the house and checking anywhere he thought Jerry might be. Kitchen, no. Living room, no. Mancave, no. Bedroom, no. Then Morty heard noise coming from the attic.

“A raccoon or possum or something must’ve gotten in again. Perfect day for it, too. Good thing Rick made Dad immune to rabies.” Morty sighed, heading up the stairs to the attic.

“Hey, Dad? I know you’re having fun up here with your little friends, but it has to wait. I need a hand taking care of Rick, and… what the hell are you doing up here, exactly?” he said, puzzled by the sight in front of him. Morty had expected to find his father either playing with or being attacked by a wild animal or two, depending on the temperament of whatever had gotten into the attic this time. Instead, Jerry was sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, some of them tipped over, and piles of disorganized anime VHS tapes.

“Oh, hi Morty. You know what Sailor Moon is, right?” was what he received as an answer.

“Ummm, yes? Classic 90’s manga and anime that’s known for popularizing the magical girl genre in the U.S. And for the old dub making the questionable-at-best choice of trying to pass off two clearly lesbian characters as cousins. Why are you asking me about Sailor Moon?” an even more confused Morty replied.

Ignoring his son’s question while he went through another pile of tapes, Jerry said, “That’s right, Morty! I loved watching it before school as a kid, but I’d forgotten all about it. Then there was this time last year when Rick disguised me as his assistant using something he called a ‘reusable Sailor Moon transformation sequence’, and you see, it brought back all the good memories I had of watching that show when I was young. Along with the bad ones of the boys who liked Dragon Ball Z instead bullying me, but I digress.”

“Uh-huh. That’s great, Dad. Well, mostly. That last part sounds like it sucked… Anyway, nevermind the walk down memory lane right now. I need you downstairs to help me with Rick.”

“Oh. Is whatever the Mimicking Disease mimicking now really bad, Morty? Am I going to come downstairs and see it’s turned all his organs visible, and we can like, see the damage being done to them in real time? If it’s that you’ll warn me, right, Morty?” Jerry worried, getting squeamish over his own made-up scenario.

“No, it’s nothing like that. Rick made up the whole Mimicking Disease thing. Well, I don’t know if he made up that it exists. It might? But he definitely made up the part about him having it.” Morty replied.

He was about to explain further, but was cut off by his father saying, “So it is something worse after all? I thought Rick sending your mom and sister away was a little odd. *GASP!* Morty, you’ve been awfully close to him this whole time, haven’t you?” He quickly backed away from Morty, scooting backwards until he crashed into another box of tapes.

Morty rolled his eyes and said, “Dad, calm down. Rick just has a cold. A pretty bad one from the looks of it, but still just a cold. The thing is, he’s not dealing with it well at all, and apparently store brand otc cold medicine is the only substance out there he has like, no tolerance for. Or hallucinating melting walls is what those internet weirdos meant by the expired medicine ‘working too well’? I don’t know. I do know he’s making this whole thing a lot more of a problem than it needs to be. And it’s probably going to get worse when he wakes up, so come help.”

“But why would Rick lie about having some weird alien disease to hide having a cold? It doesn’t make sense. Now, him lying about having one alien disease to hide having a worse one, that makes sense.” Jerry continued to worry, gulping nervously.

“I don’t know, and I don’t get it either. I’m sure there’s a reason. Probably a reason no one but Rick would understand, or maybe even he doesn’t. But it’s Rick - that’s true for almost everything he does. Please just come downstairs. I see you’ve already given up on your big plan to help to do this instead.” Morty replied wearily.

“Given up? Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong, Morty. This is all a part of my plan.” Jerry stated, starting to look through another pile of tapes. 

"Your plan to help Rick feel better is... old anime VHS tapes? I mean... okay? Maybe it would distract him or cheer him up a little. He'd probably enjoy some, maybe even most of this stuff. That's actually not a bad idea, Dad. But it's also not a priority." Morty said.

"You misunderstand. I'm not looking for something for Rick to watch. I'm looking for something I need to watch. And once I do, then I'll know exactly how to help your grandfather." Jerry replied matter of factly.

After standing there for a moment, dumbfounded and not knowing what to say to that, Morty finally asked, "So, your big, great plan is to spend the day going through these boxes, then watching Sailor Moon? And that's supposed to teach you... something relevant to our current situation?"

"It's not going to take me all day, Morty. If your mom and I had done a better job of putting these tapes away, I'd already have what I need. And it's not as if I could watch all 200 episodes and 3 movies in a single day even if I tried. No, there's just one specific episode I need to find. I know it's technically a 'filler' episode, but it's a classic. Episode 71 of the original English dub, “No Thanks, Nurse Venus!” The bad guys infect the city with a flu virus as part of their evil plan, and all of the Sailor Scouts are down with it - except one." Jerry explained, his voice taking on a singsongy tone at the last part.

"From the title, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's Sailor Venus?" Morty said, the urge to scream growing by the second.

"That's right, Morty! For some reason, she and Artemis - that's her mentor/talking cat - remain completely fine, so Mina sets out to nurse the rest of the team back to health. She's honestly terrible at it, but she means so, so well." Jerry replied fondly.

"Dad, I - where do I even start listing everything that's wrong with this 'plan' of yours?! 1, that sounds more like a magic spell than an actual virus. 2, you can't learn anything about treating an illness by watching an old anime episode, and, and..." Morty sputtered.

"Oh, Morty. It's because I told you it's a filler episode, isn't it? Or maybe because I specifically need to watch the old DiC dub? For someone with only the most basic understanding of Sailor Moon, you really don't have any business being a snobby purist. And for your information, Mister, this episode is so good that even people who normally are snobs about that sort of thing enjoy it." Jerry said, shaking his head and giving his son a disappointed look.

“Dad, of everything that’s wrong with your plan, which is EVERYTHING, that’s easily what’s the least wrong! Just because Rick told you to go be stupid upstairs, does not mean you had to take that as literally as possible! You’re not going to come downstairs and help me, are you?”

“Obviously not, Morty. Until I find that tape and watch that episode, what help could I possibly be?” Jerry replied with a shrug. He was clearly annoyed his son still didn’t seem to understand his plan, even after he’d explained it so well.

“I mean, you could go out to get more medicine. Or keep an eye on Rick while I go do that. Or maybe make food? There’s a lot of things you could do, actually. But it’s fine. Just stay up here and keep doing what you’re doing, Dad.” Morty sighed, deciding there was no point in further trying to talk any sense into his father. Jerry was already back to looking through tapes, humming the Sailor Moon opening theme.

As Morty walked back down the steps, he muttered to himself, “What else is going to help Rick get better? I know he needs to rest, and that we need to get more medicine. And obviously that I can’t let him near more than a single dose at a time. But is that like, it? Feels like there’s more I should do. Aww geez, we really don’t have to deal with normal problems like this often, do we? Kinda makes it harder when they do come up. I hope Mom and Summer get home soon.” 

A few minutes later, Morty had made his way back to Rick’s room. Expecting his grandfather to still be asleep, and not wanting to wake him, he slowly, carefully opened the door… only to discover the bed was empty.

“Rick? Are you in here?” Morty asked tentatively, stepping into the room and looking around. He checked under the bed and in the closet. No Rick.

“God dammit!!!” he yelled, kicking the nearest wall before going to search the rest of the house.

“Rick! Where are you?! You need to go back to bed! Rick!” he called, walking through the house. First he checked the bathroom. Empty.

“You in here? Rick? Come on, this isn’t funny! Are you like, hiding because you’re mad about the medicine?” He checked the living room next. Still no Rick.

“He couldn’t have gotten far. Kitchen, maybe?” As soon as Morty stepped into the kitchen, he realized that it was also empty, but there was noise coming from the garage.

“Dammit, I should have known!” 

Morty ran into the garage and was immediately taken aback by the sight in front of him. Rick was dressed in his normal clothes again, but his labcoat was crooked and sliding down his left shoulder. He had a sock and shoe on his left foot, but a slipper on his right. His belt was unbuckled, and Morty was fairly sure his shirt was on backwards. He was trying to keep his blankets - there were now three of them - wrapped around himself while he set up another experiment and had to keep pausing to adjust them.

The experiment in question? Well, it wasn't clear exactly what Rick was trying to accomplish, but he'd gathered the petri dish containing the blood sample he took earlier, a couple of empty ones, and some used tissues, and was arranging all of them on the garage floor... in front of a large ray gun on a pedestal.

"What the hell do you think you're doing now, Rick?! Whatever it is, stop!" Morty yelled, startling Rick and causing him to stumble forward and bump into the ray gun. This led to it flipping so it was facing the roof, which it immediately shot a hole through.

"Ow! Dammit, Morty! Look what you made me do!" Rick complained, rubbing his forehead where he'd hit the ray gun.

"Uh-huh. Weird way to thank me for that hole ending up in the roof and not your head." Morty said wearily.

"Okay, so this wasn't on the right setting for what I'm *Cough!* trying to do just now. But I would've figured that out on my own without your so-called help." Rick grumbled, turning a dial on the ray gun and repositioning it so it was once again aimed at the assortment of things on the floor.

"And what exactly are you trying to do?"

"Isn't it obvious? I hate to admit it, Morty, but you were right about the idea I had before being terrible. *Sniff!* Shrinking you down to microscopic size to talk to the virus? I don't, don't know what I was thinking with that." Rick admitted as he rearranged the petri dishes. The pile of blankets slid down a little, and he started shivering again.

Noticing that, Morty helped adjust them around Rick's shoulders, saying, "Glad you realized that, but you still didn't answer my question."

"Huh? Oh, *Cough!* right. As I was saying, making you or a clone or a robot germ-sized is not the right way to handle this situation at all. In fact, the way to deal with it is the exact opposite. What I need to do for this negotiation thing to work is make the germs human-sized." Rick explained matter-of-factly.

"Rick, no! Don't you see how that's even worse than your original plan?!" Morty asked, rightfully horrified. 

“Huh? How so? There was a lot that could have gone wrong with the original plan. Even though I’d send you in armed in case the little peace talk fell through, you *COUGH!* woulda been seriously outnumbered in here, Morty. And God forbid anything happened to prevent me from getting you back out. Let’s face it, I am not in peak form today. And it’s not like there’s anyone else here to help. Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have sent Summer away. Eh, I’ll make it up to her once I feel better. Anyhow, *Cough!* *Cough!* if we do it this way instead, all those risks go away. We’ll be face to face with the bastards and on an even playing field.” Rick replied, not understanding Morty’s concerns.

“No, we won’t be! Instead of just me, it’ll be the two of us vs… How many germs are in a person’s body when they have a cold? Millions? Billions? It’s at least thousands, and I’m pretty sure it’s a lot more than that! If you make them all human sized, they’ll overrun the house, then the neighborhood, and, and wouldn’t being exposed to germs that size make everyone around really sick? How are you not seeing everything that could go wrong with this idea, Rick?!” Morty yelled.Visibly annoyed, Rick answered, “Obviously I’m not going to make all the germs our size, Morty. I mean, to do that, I’d need to remove all of them from my body first. Which would require, among other things, a full blood replacement. Which I *Cough!* might not live through, and if I did, I’d already be cured once I was done. And then why would I waste my time talking to over – to a bunch of oversized *SNIFF!* germs, huh, Morty?” Morty was once again at a loss for words due to the crazy plan being explained to him – something that had already happened too many times for how early it still was.

[claudiajcregg]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by both @mihrsuri and @unseenacademic 💜💜💜 Thank you so much! I actually wrote up most of the answers the day I was tagged, and then forgot to post them. For over 10 days, probably. Me bad.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 23! (One of them is a 'collection' of short ficlets, and has 6 chapters. So 28 stories in 23 works so far. Probably about to be more stories in still 23 works.)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 156,597 words. For now.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently? Just TWW. Who knows in the future!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

They have about 35% of my total kudos, but the first two are ~21% alone. (The first one is the only fic that has over 100 kudos. Then again, any of them getting above 30 is a miracle.)

maybe everything's just turning out how it should be (Big Block of Cheese 2008; CJ & Josh. Posted Feb 2021) [121]

say it's here where our pieces fall in place (Vignettes, 1998-2008. Posted Jan 2022.) [66]

just your smile lit a sixty-watt bulb in my house that was darkened for days (Thanksgiving 2006. Posted Dec 2022.) [55]

nobody knows how to get back home (Missing scene from ITSOTG. Posted April 2023) (wait what. top 4?!) [50]

we could be the way forward and I know I'll pay for it (B4A Campaign Fic, spring 1998. Posted May 2021) [47]

5. Do you respond to comments?

YES. I don't take them for granted, and I like interacting with my readers. Sharing is nerve-wracking and makes me feel so exposed, so any comment makes it worth it. I like to thank peeps for their time! As of late, it's taking me weeks to get back to comments for Brain/spoons reasons (and because I try to do so in order, though not always). I sometimes feel bad I have fallen behind on leaving my own comments, so replying to what I get makes me feel bad. I love getting the rare, long, thoughtful comments, because I love seeing what people pick up on (had to restrain myself from commenting on everything), so if that one's up next… It'll delay everything. I have a harder time letting go of those.

I know replying or not is a hot topic, and I fall on the side of 'whatever the author does is fine' (I see them as being voluntary gifts to the author, kinda, but I understand why some authors can't or won't reply! Especially those who get dozens.). It does feel weird(ly demoralizing) when you see that yours is one of a couple of comments they haven't replied to, though. (Selfishly, as someone who tries to write medium-long comments, lack of anything can sting. It's irrational, it's not what I'm after, but it'd be nice to know whether that hour plus of my time was worth it. It's not transactional and I hate that c4c idea or whatever. Just. weird feelings.)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

As we've established in previous similar memes (lol, I think I've answered these questions before), my fics don't really have angsty endings! For the most part. I think I said don't want you to go but I'll be okay then, and I can still buy that/definitely popped into my brain. I think some of my late S7 fics have an ominous feel to them, with some references/buildup to the angsty parts of IM, but I wouldn't call them angsty endings.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Um. The opposite is true! still you never took your hand from mine was my first thought, but I feel like oh, and I will be with you to feel the California sun is pretty darn happy. I could have picked almost any of them and I could make a case for them!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I luckily do not. I have gotten a couple of comments that have messed with my brain, and made me second-guess things, but they were not hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, but not regularly and not that well. It's usually short, mild scenes at most, but I did challenge myself to write a more explicit one last summer, especially after I got those 'one bed' tropes in the Wheel but didn't go there in the 500-word limit. Streets say it's hot. IDK. I also wrote a smutty continuation to the exchange fic. Best if we forget parts of that one happened. I also started writing one that would be in my S5 pregnancy universe but 🤐

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don't. But this question confirms to me I have answered this before because I know I've joked about how TV has already done that for me, lmao. See: Bones/Sleepy Hollow.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? (I had to track down this question because it wasn't anywhere.) I don't think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! I'm having déjà vu here. I know I have answered this before: I could do it myself! But I have a feeling it wouldn't be as easy as one might think, but I'd be honored.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I don't think so…? If I have, it was years ago, in my forum/LJ days. I've been trying to make it happen for a while now, but who knows if it'll ever happen. WE HAVE IDEAS. We want to make it happen. (Wink wink, nudge nudge. You know who.)

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Spaceships are so cool. Atlantis was the first space shuttle I saw in person (and also the one I've seen the most) and it and its exhibit are awesome. I'm only missing Discovery out of the four space shuttles, because I didn't go to the second National Air and Space Museum location in Virginia back in 2015. And once the new exhibit center is completed, I'd love to see Endeavour again.

(In all seriousness, I don't have one. Booth and Brennan will forever and always hold a special place in my heart, but I love CJ and Danny so much, writing for them, their journey. Pls don't make me pick.)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I am a big 'never say never' person, because I end up picking stuff up (and maybe rewriting it to fit my current style/ability) if I remember an idea… But I'm guessing many of them won't get finished. Probably some of those that are deep in my notes app or on the drive.

16. What are your writing strengths? I (try to) dig into the emotion of a scene as best as I can.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Everything else? I know it sounds like an excuse (at least to my ears), but writing in your second language is hard. I know my writing sounds limited because of it – my descriptions will never be as evocative as I wish they were, my dialogue won't be there. I am not the most imaginative person, either.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If it makes sense, and won't take the reader out of the story, go for it! (A few words, or a line or two, might work if there's appropriate context.)

But also, as a non-native speaker, I'll always recommend using pals who might be fluent in that language and checking with them! I know that, throughout my many years in fandom, I've read quick things in Spanish within English fics that weren't entirely correct in the context they were being used (i.e. character's fluency, smaller details), and they took me out for a second. (I know, I know – pot, meet kettle. If anyone has read an unedited story of mine, they've found me making up English phrases.)

19. First fandom you wrote for? Bones. In Spanish. (I also think I wrote some ficlets in English that are probably hidden in some random LJ comm I created for my writing. They're probably 14-15 years old.)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I honestly cannot pick! And maybe it's yet to come. But basically, if I've gone through the embarrassment of having someone edit/beta a fic and catch all the avoidable mistakes, it's because it genuinely has something I like about it and that I think others will like, too. (Perceived quality aside.)

Off the top of my head, and out of the posted fics (obvious recency bias, sorry). I have a story for all 23… Also, let's consider I've mostly not read them since they were posted so I might be off. (Would love to hear what everyone's favorite is, if you've read any and are reading this!) Obviously, that top 5 by kudos has great ones. There's a reason

don't want you to go but I'll be okay: I just remember finishing it and knowing it was something special. Felt like many things coming together. I wanted to write angstier, a break from the endgame of the IM AU I've yet to post, and I think it works. I had had that quote as inspo for a while, and I think the trip to Berlin put it back on my mind. (The first haunted by the notion draft is from around this time, too!)

your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep: the structure is likely a tad repetitive, maybe (but also, the point of 3+1s, sort of?) but I love writing in that s7 period, and there should be more fic with the press corps. I think the stuff I wrote while editing (which included an overhaul of the +1) is even better than what was there.

oh, and I will be with you to feel the California sun: recency bias, yes. I love a good early Cali story, and even if this was nowhere the story I sat down to write originally, I love how it turned out. It's silly but fun, and so sunny.

still you never took your hand from mine: I will always have all the soft spots for my memoir stories, even if two of them have yet to be posted. This one doubled its size a year and a half after “finishing” it because I realized what it was missing. It's sappy, probably unrealistic re: the publishing industry, but damn it if it's not one of those that have made me cry while editing them.

we could be the way forward and I know I'll pay for it: I had to include an oldie but goodie from my first year, and this one is so special to me. (Along with BBC 2008, which I also absolutely adore. That was the fic I always wanted to post. Hilarious it was third. But it's also my most popular fic by a huge margin.) Seeing it recommended on Tumblr? God. I love campaign stories and all their potential. I love that I took a random line from some unposted story and it evolved into this fic.

nobody knows how to get back home: I almost added the most recent one because of how fun it was to write (or, as I mentioned above, Big Block of Cheese) but I like how bittersweet this missing scene one is. I find CJ's internal struggle so interesting to explore, and this is one of her most vulnerable moments. I also wanted to see a hug so badly.