#the way it was just a shit ending too. a tragic ending would’ve been fine if it had been written well?????? but it wasn’t. it was shit

[noonvoid]

frothing at the mouth actually. still can’t believe she said eve can go back to a “normal” life now where, iirc, she can get married again, live a domestic life. because the obsession with villanelle was just a phase. now she can go back to normal. like do you get it. do you get the biphobic allegory??? and then killing the lesbian the second she became actually happy?? in such a brutal way??? then saying the lesbian’s bisexual partner can finally move on and be normal. okay.

[normiedoctorwho]

Venting about the 12th Doctor and nuwho experience so far

So I’ve been working my way through nuwho for about a year and a half now, and since it hit 12 it’s been extremely slowly. The reason it’s been so slow is while there are episodes I like, I cannot for the life of me get invested in these characters, the major exception after the s9 premiere being Missy.

I love her.

Dearly.

I’m just gonna pull off the bandaid now, I liked Clara more with 11. I know heaven sent is gonna be amazing and gives a great tragic goodbye for her, the fact is as of now, I wish she would’ve left either after kill the moon, or after the s8 finale.

And I’ll stress that I am extremely biased towards more classic who feels for episodes. That’s where I got into the series and if you know me, you’ll know I DESPISE new who’s constant raising of the stakes. As in then Modern day earth/the whole universe has to be on the line.

I’ve reached a boiling point with the 12th doctor because Moffatt’s inability to commit to his dramatic plot points.

I’m not expecting Missy to actually be dead. It was obvious she survived. And she was the best part of the s9 premiere, but like… more of a buffer guys.

Speaking of a buffer, once again we have a perfectly fine companion break up that’s undone by the Christmas special because god forbid new who has a good companion exit/commits to it outside of Martha’s.

(Opinion context: Rose’s first exit worked, then Journey’s end happened. Jack’s was straight up bad, just forgot about him for two seasons, Martha is good as stated, Donna’s was horribly contrived and fucking stupid actually happy that’s getting a do over, Amy and Rory had their good exit at the end of s6, which got ruined by the Christmas special, and now Clara with the same shit.)

Magician’s apprentice in particular annoyed me because it felt like it was spinning it’s wheels while also yet again making the stakes impossibly big when they did not need to be. At least at the start. “The Doctor is dying. Airplanes are frozen in mid air! The master is back! What do we doooo?” When the initial conceit of the Doctor being torn between helping a kiddo Davros or letting him die was way more interesting. And I won’t lie, not all of this criticism is fair. I’d heard this was the premise of the episode for months if not years in advance, and got excited and built my own picture of what it could’ve been. And when the episodes themselves seemed to be actively avoiding the interesting thing in favor of Davros and 12 sitting in a room reading their character analysis’ of each other while Missy and Clara run around a radiation filled planet with no side effects, I got bored fast.

Like Moffatt, I know you got the idea for this episode from 4’s speech in genesis. You don’t have to literally play the clip from the speech. It’s not necessary and just eats up time. Just role with the dramatic irony and have fans notice the reference.

I will say I liked that 12 didn’t fall for Davros’ obvious lies and that 12 had a real plan to kill all of the daleks on the rebuilt skaro. 10 seemingly backtracking to pre remembrance character development never sat right with me. And 11 never truly contemplating the gravity of the consequences of choosing to save the earth over destroying the daleks in victory of the daleks was also annoying. So to give 12 this chance to get rid of it all and have him actually go through with it was nice.

I fully expect Davros to return at some point, but at the very least, it won’t be because the Doctor showed him pity. They are well and truly past that now.

But then he almost falls for Missy’s bit to trick him into killing Clara? Ugh. More importantly though, this episode relies wayyyyy too much on the audience’s classic who knowledge of thecharacter dynamic and what happened to Skaro. As far as I can remember, nuwho does not ever explain the Doctor destroyed it.

Listen I like it when classic who comes up in nuwho, but nuwho needs to stand on its own. And if it’s gonna take cues from classic who, then for the love of god stop having 3 save modern day earth plots per season and let the timelords be actual forces in the narrative. Vs some tragic backstory you lean on b/c you’re convinced the doctor’s mysticism is why we like him so much.

I swear nuwho downplaying that the doctor is a renegade timelord b/c Galifrey is no longer a factor in the plot outside of “waaa I destroyed my home planet in the time war,” is just so annoying. The writers focus on the stole the tardis aspect and not “my people had time and space travel but they sat on their asses vs using it to explore and help people.

I’ll clarify that I do not hate all of new who. I like it overall. And I like older doctors too. Plz I don’t hate capaldi as an actor I think he does a good job with what he’s given. But god does where I’m at feel like the show is just running on fumes while also having it’s head up it’s own ass.

I bet Clara’s clear trauma at 12 nearly killing her and being unable to explain who she is will totally get addressed in the next story.

/s

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Which character from any fandom is so amazing that you sure hope nothing bad happens to them in the future?

I mean. Amazing characters doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t want to see them hurt. Your big dramatic villains can be great but also very satisfying to see fall flat on their face. Preferably through their own hubris. Other times having the sunshine bois have bad things having to them (??? Is that the right amount of haves??) anyways, that can be pretty interesting too.

That being said if any character survived the Smash Bros Ultimate - Thanosing other than Kirby, that just would’ve felt wrong. Like. I can’t be the only one who thinks that right. Other cute characters like Pikachu are fine, other Kirby characters are fine, heck you’re the one committing bad things on Bandana Dee and the others never catch a break, it can’t be kids media bias because SpongeBob isn’t an issue either. Solaire Dark Souls might have been an answer if that wasn’t already the normal ending of his story quest and also it’s literally Dark Souls, where everything is shit in some tragic way-

But Kirby? Something actually, truly horrible happening to him? It just feels wrong.

[fairycosmos]

i hope it’s fine to join in on the conversation since this topic is something i’ve been brewing over for a long time. ultimately, while i agree there are wonderful things to be experienced in life — certainly there have been moments where even i thought how lucky i am to be in that moment! — that doesn’t mean it’s worth the gamble. when you have a kid, you have NO idea what their life is going to be like, you’re just thrusting them into it. and i wish love were enough, but love can’t protect a person from life. kids whose parents love them still get cancer. people who were loved as kids and had great childhoods can still lose it all in adulthood or fall victim to heinous crimes. love can’t even cure depression (or any mental illness). i don’t think people who have kids have any ill intentions. i think they’re at worst ignorant (ie they don’t think about what they’re doing at all) and at best idealistic (ie they believe their love for their kids - which is a wonderful thing in itself, of course! - will ensure their kids have a good life). my prerogative is that i just can’t in good conscience make that gamble for someone else. sure, it might be sunshine and rainbows. it might be absolute hell though. or it might not be anything especially tragic, just one of Those Lives, you know. and i kinda like living now, honestly. i got pretty lucky with my partner and am able to work in a creative field. that means nothing to my hypothetical kid though! if they’re born, there’s a capacity for happiness, yes, but there’s also *endless* capacity for suffering. happiness has a limit - suffering really does not. if they’re not born, they can’t experience joy, true, but they also absolutely can’t suffer. and that seems like a fine deal to me. and also, i feel like a lot of parents get defensive about this because a world without their kids is unthinkable, so they feel, idk, that they would’ve robbed their kids of something had they not had them? i don’t know, but nobody’s sad about not being born. like, i didn’t care before i was born. experience is only possible to the existing and living, your hypothetical unborn kids can’t experience sadness over not getting to feel sunlight on their skin. but once they’re born, they can experience so much pain. they might not, but they could, and that, to me, is the whole point — not having kids is the safest way to ensure no further suffering. (also the state of the world isn’t promising and looking at any meaningful statistics is fucking horrifying so i don’t even think it’s an even gamble i think it’s like. playing russian roulette with five bullets. but that’s my personal pessimism tho)

omg you seriously put my own thoughts on this subject into words so perfectly it's a little insane. im worried that you actually live inside my brain and are controlling it lmfao like yes exactlyyyyy. this is the nuance that encapsulates it all for me and my own personal approach to parenthood as well. it's about the gamble in my eyes, too. you can take a massive risk and bring life into this world in good faith - but that's not going to mean shit to the traumatised adult you might get at the end of it, for whatever reason. and there are an endless list of reasons. it's like, a high probability even. it's great if people can live their lives on the premise of optimism but in my eyes i don't think the beauty of life negates the harm of it either. at all. like, be real. you could say for every bad thing that happens a good thing happens - but which generally lingers the longest, effects you the most; happiness or pain? which takes years to overcome, which feels permanent and substantial? it's so clear to me that playing god with a human being's life is a decision with massive stakes, with often unforeseen consequences. like you said, anything could happen but toil is guaranteed. it's hard work for both the kid and the adult.

i think parents are sometimes so flippant about the inevitability of suffering, and it's weird to me to just shrug that aspect of living off just because you did your best with your child or because there's been fun times, too. like you said, nobody grieves not being born, nobody feels cheated out of an existence they're not even aware of. we don't owe the world reproduction. it's all just common sense, honestly. to me the possibility of my kid having a consistently difficult existence (which like you said is not unlikely if you've ever uhh watched the news or read a single statistic regarding quality of life) is enough to turn me off the idea. the future's not exactly sparkling is it. people are so quick to label childfree people selfish but i think making that choice is the exact opposite in a lot of cases, though ofc there's nothing wrong with wanting your life to be your own anyway. ultimately when i'm questioned on this i just think to myself - sorry i understand the immense weight of a human life and of human pain i guess. sorry the game isn't worth it to me the way it is to you. you know?

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Can we take a moment to talk about what a tragic character Minerva is? Y’all know that for the longest time I haven’t been the biggest fan of her, and honestly I’m still not? but I think I might’ve had a breakthrough on why that is. 

Whenever I’ve asked around to see why people find her so appealing or why they consider her their favorite, I’ll get answers like, “she’s such a complex character and she deserved a redemption arc!” or “she should’ve come back to the school with us! Let Minnie be happy, you cowards! Telltale did her dirty! I could write paragraph after paragraph about her!” all sorts of things along those lines… but like, no one seems to want to actually talk about her. I find that interesting? Since when I do follow up with a “care to explain further?” I get nothing. Radio static. Like…. no, talk to me please, I just wanna understand-

Minerva within the context of TFS is such a tragedy. She grew up in a school for troubled youth where all the adults left them for death at the start of the breakout, they had walkers trying to eat the living all around them, and I’m sure she saw her fair share of traumatic violence and despair… but on the bright side, she always had her twin sister, Sophie, and little brother, Tenn. She had her friend and eventual girlfriend, Violet. She had music, and a dorm full of pretty paintings done by Sophie. She and Louis composed a song together to make everyone feel better. There are worse places to live than the school. 

Then one day she got traded away to a bunch of raiders against her will, having no idea what the hell these people were gonna do to her and Sophie. They were made to be soldiers to fight in a war that had nothing to do with them. The delta fucking broke her. If we’re to believe Lilly’s story about the twins, they started their brainwashing process early on when Sophie was still alive, and it seems like Minerva was easier to control as Sophie was still planning a way out and causing trouble. Then, when Sophie convinced her to steal a boat and get the hell out, they got caught and the delta forced her to murder her own twin sister. 

Like…. I’m sorry, not only did Minerva kill her own sister, but she was made to believe that was the right thing to do? That line she says about how she had to prove her loyalty to the place she calls home? That shit’s ingrained in her brain, you can tell that isn’t the first time she’s heard or said that very thing. That is what made her family to the delta. Delta is her home now, her family. Sophie was just a thing that needed to be dealt with. You keep your head down, do as you’re told, and you survive.  You survive and you get to go home, eat a hot meal, take a shower, and be with your delta family.  If not, you end up like Sophie.

What’s also fucked is that Minerva actually cares about these people now. Think about that. After everything they did to her and made her do, she’s been trained to see them as her family and obey. When you save Louis and he kills Dorian, Minerva actually cries out and is visibly hurt by her death. When she’s with the other raiders on land, she's screaming at walkers to get away from them. She cares about the people who made her kill Sophie… and no one ever talks about that??

She fucking hates Clementine. Clementine is just another thing in Minnie’s way. I know the part of the fandom likes to ship these two together and they think it’s hot when they fight and shit, but within the canon text, Minerva wants Clementine gone. Dead. She is the thing stopping her from having her old family merge with her new family. If Clementine hadn’t made them fight, they all would’ve been captured and they’d all be a delta family now. She would’ve had Tenn back. 

Clementine is the problem, she made everyone fight back and that’s why people are dead. Minerva hates her for it… it’s not a “I hate you but like the sexual tension, y’know?” that I see people pretend it is, it’s “you are ruining everything and if I have to, I will kill you myself and I won’t give a second thought about it when they toss your body overboard.”

Like….. seriously, think about how fucked up all of this is. Minerva is a husk of who she was before she was taken away. Sure, you do have to keep in mind that when Tenn and Violet are describing her, their sights are a bit clouded, y’know? But I do believe that she was someone who was kind and cared about people, she wanted to make people feel safe and comforted. 

Now she’s a brainwashed soldier who won’t help the people she used to call friends when they’re about to get limbs cut off. She won’t hesitate to knock someone unconscious or threaten a child.  She’s willing to trick them into being captured with no regard for what’s going to happen to them. … all she knows is this was the mission, and now they all get to be together again back at the delta. 

Then when she finds out there’s a bomb on the boat, she ditches Violet to blow up with it in order to make it to land herself. She loses her shit seeing everyone die and gets her face chewed off by a walker… and then she tries to blow Clementine and AJ up with a grenade. 

Oh, and who can forget the fact that she tracks the group down with plans of murdering Tenn so that they can go to a better place together? And she’ll take down anyone who gets in her way?

Like….. jesus christ, Minerva’s waaaaay too far gone. It’s awful. 

I think that’s what stumps me about why she’s so loved in the way that she is. It’s not that I don’t understand why she’s complex and well-written, I get that perfectly fine. She’s a compelling character study when you comb over all her scenes and take different factors into account.

What I don’t understand is why we tend to just throw everything interesting about her away? For what? 

These days, I never see anyone talking about any of this unless they’re insisting she deserved a redemption arc which…. Eh, I’ll touch on this later. What I mostly see here and mostly other platforms is how great it would be if she and Clementine made out, or hey what if she and Violet got back together if she did come back to the school? Or they just….the best term I have for this is “uwu-ify.” As in she’s reduced to a caricature of a tall, pretty, mean, white lesbian who has “good damage.” 

People insist that Telltale are cowards or bastards because their predictions of her turning on the delta to save Clem and crew didn’t happen. Instead, Minerva ends up being the final baddie you gotta get away from, and she ends up taking someone down with her. But did you really expect to just do a 180 and suddenly decide being brainwashed for over a year was lame and Clementine and friends are cool? Gonna help them out and be with Tenn again? Sure, there’s some left over trauma but love conquers and fixes everything, right?

Uh…. no? That’s not how people work? Honestly, if we entertain the idea that Minerva wasn’t bit and somehow didn’t murder Clementine when they all got back to the school…. romance is the last thing she is ever gonna think of??

I think that’s what bothers me most when reading these au’s and rants about redemption and the entire idea of clemerva as a whole. It’s the same thing that I see happen with Violet- Minerva only has value to fans if she’s in a wlw relationship. By herself, she doesn’t matter. They don’t care about her canon story, they don’t care about Sophie, they don’t care about discussing what could’ve happened if she and Tenn reunited under better circumstances or had a healing recovery together. But why?

Throwing a girlfriend at her isn’t some band aid that’s gonna cover up all the bad she went through?? Having an enemies to lovers romance with Clementine isn’t going to fix a years worth of brainwashing, trauma or the fact that she murdered her own sister and the delta told her she's proved her worth to them?? 

Having the support of those around her is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. The idea of the Ericson crew as a whole trying to help her out and do the best they can to accommodate her is bittersweet since there’s only so much they can do. They’re not trained therapists, which is what Minerva would need and plenty of years ahead of her to work through and come to terms with everything that happened as well as taking steps forward. I’m not saying that she shouldn’t have friends or that she couldn’t have a healthy romantic relationship someday... but that isn’t the solution, y’know? 

I don’t know how else to explain this, but it makes me feel weird that all of this stuff is flat out overlooked or doesn’t appear to matter to fans of her. 

Look, I get it. We all want these characters to be happy. AU’s are a thing, after all. Sometimes we want to forget about the bad things and focus on the good that bring us comfort. You wanna gush about the idea of an AU where the twins never got traded, the raiders didn’t exist, and Clementine got to meet them the way they were before? I feel that, AU’s are super comforting and fun to explore, and my point isn’t to try and shame anyone who has an AU you like this. 

Hell, you think I don’t have days where I pretend mute Louis isn’t a thing because the whole concept of Louis having his tongue cut out of his mouth breaks my fucking heart? No, lot’s of days I just want to forget everything about that route, I want to set aside all the bad and just intake as much clouis fluff as I can get…. But that doesn’t mean I always ignore or refuse to acknowledge the bad just because I don’t like it. I fucking hate the fact that Louis loses his tongue when you don’t save him, but guess what? That’s a canon route you can play, just like any other route, and the possibilities that come with a mute Louis are vast and compelling. 

This is how it is for me… my favorite characters are my favorite for a reason, and I take all the bad with the good. Louis isn’t perfect, and I don’t want him to be. I was to dive into his backstory about why did that to his parents, I like to talk about what he went through with Marlon’s murder and his feelings about AJ and Clementine at the point, I like to view his love of music as bittersweet. He can stand on his own, and while he is a love interest for Clementine, that isn’t his only purpose. 

I know everyone’s different, they express their love for characters in their own ways, but I do have a genuine question: do you guys actually like Minerva?

Believe it or not, I’m not trying to step on toes or make everyone feel defensive which I know is how people will react to this. “You’re just saying all of this to make us feel bad for shipping clemerva! You don’t even like Minnie so you don’t get to say shit!” yeah yeah, I hear you and look, it’s true that she’s not my favorite character. I know I’ve said I hate her in the past but upon reflection and throwing out fandom interpretations.... I don’t hate her. I get it now. She’s a great character study to dissect and analyze and I think she deserves more than what the writers and the fandom have given her. 

And yeah, what I do hate is clemerva, and I’ve explained why. It’s not for me, it makes me uncomfortable, but at the end of the day, who cares? Me not liking it doesn’t mean anything to those who create AU’s for them. They have their reasons, they can do as they please as long as they’re not hurting anyone. I’m just here pointing out things I see and things that bother me in hopes of starting a discussion.

There’s my ramble about Minerva. I’m gonna go make some tea now. 

[mdelpin]

The Red Dragon - Chapter 35 (Final)

Cover Art by @khaoticvex​

AO3 | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch34

And here we are at the end. 2 years and 10 months and a little over 200K words later.

It's been a long time coming and I want to thank you all for your patience as this was not an easy story to write. I hope you enjoy this final chapter, I tried to get in everything I reasonably could.

Chapter 35

Gajeel gazed at Wendy as she watched the huddled figures of Natsu and Gray sadly. He could tell she was about to go over there, and he held out a hand to her.

“Don’t,” Gajeel warned. He’d directed it at Wendy, but he meant it as a warning to the others as well. “I don’t have the first clue what the hell all that was about, but I do know Natsu doesn’t need us all over him right now.”

“But-” Wendy protested, seeing as Happy had crept closer, but even he was giving them some space, content to rest near them.

Gajeel could hardly blame her. He felt the same urge to comfort Natsu. He knew exactly what it felt like to have your parents ripped away from you unexpectedly. Could relate to the emptiness and shock Natsu was undoubtedly feeling, which was why he also knew that his friend wouldn’t want anyone but Gray and Atlas near him at the moment.

It had been a long, exhausting battle, and it left him feeling battered. It all felt so anticlimactic. They’d finally put an end to Acnologia’s carnage, but he could find no joy in it. His heart felt heavy in his chest and all he wanted to do was collapse on the ground and avoid moving for a while, maybe thinking too.

Whatever they’d just witnessed, and Gajeel understood precious little of it, Igneel had been someone he’d cared about deeply. The fire dragon had always taken an interest in all the dragon slayers, chatting with them and making them feel at home from the first moment they had met him and the rest of the dragons. And he’d always seemed larger than life. Gajeel was still having trouble accepting he was gone, but with Natsu out of commission for the moment, it fell to him to once again be the leader of their little band of misfits.

The battle had taken a lot out of all of them, especially Natsu and Happy. They wouldn’t be flying home for a while. The best thing they could all do for now was to get some rest and recoup some of their energy.

Gajeel moved away from the three dragons, nudging Wendy to follow. He found them a spot where they could sit somewhat comfortably and wait for Atlas to return with Irene and Oliver.

“Do you- do you think he’ll be alright?” Wendy fretted, as was her way.

Gajeel could only shrug, “I’m sure he will, but he’s going to need some time. We all will.”

Wendy nodded and Gajeel changed the subject for both their sakes. “Rogue handled himself pretty well out there, don’t you think?”

“Yes!” Wendy immediately perked up. “Those legs you made him work really well. He fought just as well as he did before.”

Gajeel was about to say something about it to Rogue when he noticed the Shadow Dragon slayer and Sting were still locked in an embrace. “Ugh, you’re all disgusting. I seriously need to find a girlfriend. I’m so tired of watching all of you.”

Wendy smiled, “Well, you should definitely have better luck with that in Talos than you did in Drak Aast.”

In his defense, it wasn’t like there had been that many female dragon slayers in Drak Aast to begin with, and the few there had been were not overly fond of him.

“Oh great, here comes yours,” Gajeel groaned as he noticed Atlas approaching.

The hellfire dragon landed near them and as he crouched down, his tail swished, yeeting Acnologia’s corpse several yards away from them, where it slammed to the ground with a terrific thud.

Atlas looked completely unrepentant.

“Holy Shit! What did I miss?!” Oliver asked, sliding off Atlas’ backside and studying the remains of the clearing in dismay. Irene followed him down in a more dignified manner.

“Everything.” Sting rolled his eyes at the lightning dragon slayer before sitting down near Gajeel. “As usual.”

“Hey! Don’t say that like I do it on purpose,” Oliver complained.

Gajeel had to snort at that. Oliver had always been slightly accident prone, but once they’d arrived at Drak Aast, hardly a day had gone by without him coming to see Wendy for healing. They had soon come to realize he had a massive crush on her and had gone to splendid efforts to make his life a living hell until Wendy had made them stop.

“Oliver!” Wendy rushed over to her boyfriend, using what little magic she had left to check his injuries.

“I’m fine, and even if I wasn’t, you need to rest.” Oliver scolded, wrapping Wendy up in an embrace and kissing the top of her head as he looked the others over. “Wow, you all look like death warmed over.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us got to sleep through the fight,” Gajeel grumbled from where he sat leaning against a downed tree trunk.

Wendy took Oliver by the hand, leading him back to the others.

“Is it really over?” Rogue wondered out loud as he collapsed tiredly next to Sting. He set about removing his metal legs, seeking to ease some of the pain in his stumps after all the running he’d done.

“Yes, it’s finally over.” Atlas assured him. “I’m so proud of all you kids. You put up one hell of a fight.”

“I don’t know about that. If you and Gray hadn’t shown up when you did, we would’ve been screwed,” Sting said, “I know I sure as hell didn’t have much left.”

Gajeel grunted his agreement. His clothes were in tatters, his body covered in bruises despite being as hard as iron. “Tell me about it, I think I’m gonna sleep for a week once we get home.”

“I know you said there wasn’t time to explain before, but-” Wendy glanced over at Natsu and Gray again. “How is any of this possible?”

The dragon looked as tired as they all felt, making Gajeel think he wouldn’t answer, but after peering over at Natsu, Gray and Happy, he launched into an explanation.

“It was Igneel’s idea. When Gray didn’t set off the warning sigils we’d placed in the cave, he became determined to figure out why. He had this theory that dragon souls were being born in human bodies. That was how it all started.”

What followed was a story as shocking as it was tragic, and Gajeel had to admit his estimation of Gray improved greatly in the telling. He’d certainly seen how love made people do all sorts of crazy shit, but he would never have expected Gray to go that far, especially given how much he’d always hated dragons. It filled him with a strange sense of pride, like what he imagined Anna felt when she looked at all of them.

“So hang on, does that mean we have dragon souls too?” Rogue asked while pointing at himself and Sting.

“There’s a lot we still don’t know, but I think it’s likely, given that you’re soul bonded. As for the rest of you, it’s possible? Maybe that’s why some dragon slayers took to the enchantment better than others. If you really want to know, I can check all of you when we return.”

Gajeel let that idea sink in for a minute. It was certainly interesting to consider, but he doubted it changed anything for any of them.

The sound of heavy, unsteady steps alerted them to Gray’s approach. He tottered towards them with a sorrowful expression on his face. Once he reached them, he nudged Atlas.

“Natsu wants you.”

Atlas closed his eyes briefly and nodded. “How’s he doing?”

Gajeel knew the dragon well enough to know that he was really asking.

Does he blame me?

All eyes were on Gray as everyone waited for his response.

“He’s doing better,” Gray said, although his eyes never strayed from the ground. “Still a little shell-shocked, though.”

“What about you, how are you doing?”

Gajeel could see the concern in the hellfire dragon’s eyes and it made him wonder just how difficult this entire experience had been for Gray.

“I’m fine.”

Atlas frowned at the response, and for once he seemed to be at a loss for words. But he tried.

“We always knew he wouldn’t take it well. How could he?” Atlas nuzzled Gray’s head gently. “But as much as I hate to admit it, Igneel was right. We needed to do this. If we hadn’t, Acnologia would have killed them all. Remember that.”

“Yeah.” Gray said, although he didn’t sound very convincing. He watched Atlas walk away towards Natsu, the frown never leaving his face.

Gajeel noticed Sting watching Gray thoughtfully and got a bad feeling. Oh gods, he wasn’t dumb enough to bring that up, was he? Now of all times?! Rogue must have had the same idea because he grabbed on to Sting’s hand like a vise and shook his head.

It was Wendy who got up and approached Gray. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could and cried.

“Wendy?” Gray gawked at her. “What's wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m just so happy for you guys!” She smiled through her tears, “Now you can be together, just like before.”

“Well, not exactly like before.” Gray didn’t really feel like smiling, but he tried for her.

He was glad to see them. He’d missed all of them so much and had spent the last few years worrying about them. As he gazed from one to the other, he noticed all the changes with his newly enhanced eyesight, which he was slowly getting used to.

Gajeel looked to have changed the least, at least outwardly. His hair was a lot longer, but the biggest difference, as far as Gray could tell, was in the way he held himself. He exuded an even tougher air than he used to. Wendy looked nothing like the young girl she’d been when she’d left, although the war didn’t seem to have affected her sweet disposition any. Natsu had told him about Rogue’s legs, but it was still jarring to see it. And Sting, well, Sting looked like he had aged the most out of all of them.

“You all look so different.”

“We look different?” Gajeel scoffed, “That’s rich coming from the guy who turned into a dragon.”

“What kind of dragon are you?” Wendy asked. “You don’t look like any ice dragon I’ve ever seen.”

“We don’t really know. Atlas thinks I might be the equivalent of a hellfire dragon for ice dragons.” Gray shrugged his shoulders.

“That magic of yours sure came in handy,” Rogue chimed in, “Although it almost gave me a heart attack at first.”

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t sure how it would work.” Gray admitted, “To be honest, I was kind of winging it.”

“That was you winging it?” Sting finally spoke, peering at him in awe. “Damn! Those soldier dudes were badass.”

Gray nodded absently, becoming distracted by a scent that wafted towards him. It smelled familiar, but also different. He sniffed the air and searched for the source until determining it came from the red-haired woman that stood by Acnologia’s corpse, which had reverted to its human form after releasing all the souls he’d held captive.

“Is that Erza’s mother?”

“Yeah,” Wendy glanced over at the woman sadly.

“Is something wrong with her?”

“Not exactly, she began to dragonify, so she’s worried about how Erza and Anna will react to her appearance.”

“Dragonify? You mean like one of those renegades? Is it going to get worse?”

Wendy must have seen the distress on his face because she shook her head vehemently and immediately said, “No, no, nothing like that. Natsu removed her magic, so it won’t get any worse. But she has some red scales on parts of her body, kind of like Natsu did after-” Wendy’s voice drifted off and she looked away.

“Oh.” It was funny how his guilt over his past actions still lingered, but he chased it away. None of that mattered anymore, and he knew in his heart that neither Anna nor Erza would care one bit about what Irene looked like. They just wanted her back.

“I’ll go talk to her.”

He said that, but it was easier said than done, given the distance between them. Moving was getting easier, but he still felt so awkward. He made his way over to Irene slowly, gasping as she turned to look at him curiously.

She looked just like Erza!

Her hair was styled into two thick braids, and Gray couldn't help but notice that her outfit left just as little to the imagination as Erza’s requips. It was more ribbons than clothing, but that wasn’t even the most striking thing about her. That would have to be her face, or rather the large patch of torn skin that began just below her left eye and covered most of her cheek, revealing bright red scales underneath.

“You must be Gray, it’s nice to meet you finally. I have to say you look a little different from what I expected,” she said with a slight smile before turning back to the corpse and doing something that shocked him so much he forgot all about Erza and Anna.

Kneeling down, she closed Acnologia’s eyes and whispered, “May you find your way to peace.”

“How can you-” Gray stopped himself, realizing anything he said would only sound rude.

“How can I say that after everything he did?” Irene sighed. “I suppose it's because he wasn’t always like that. He was a good man once, before a dragon destroyed his village and killed all his loved ones. It changed him.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t agree with any of the things he did, and I would have killed him myself, given the chance. But even so,” she bowed her head. “I’d like to remember the good that once lived inside him.”

Gray sucked in a breath at her words, causing her to look up at him inquisitively. She stared at him for a moment, recognition suddenly dawning on her face.

“That’s right, Natsu mentioned something like that had happened to you as well. I’d like to say that the dragon slayer spell played a large part in what happened to him, but the truth is, Acnologia’s hatred was boundless. He fed it every chance he got, and in doing so, he created a literal monster.”

Her mouth curved up into a soft smile. “I’m happy to see you chose love instead.”

“I chose Natsu,” Gray said simply, not wanting to get caught up in a discussion of his past and how it may or may not compare to Acnologia’s.

He’d set his hatred aside once he’d finally understood how much pain it had caused Natsu over the years. Deliora was dead, and now Acnologia- who had devastated their lives in even more ways- was gone as well. Gray was content to let his hate die along with them. All he cared about now was being there for Natsu and helping him get through Igneel’s death.

He stepped closer to the body, curious to see what the man had looked like, but his nose instantly rebelled at the overwhelming stench of blood and guts the body exuded. He was about to leave when another more subtle scent caught his attention- a familiar one that was mixed in with the man's. It smelled of rain and those blue flowers that grew at the base of their mountain.

Juvia?

But what would Juvia be doing with Acnologia? He shook his head at the thought. That was ridiculous.

But was it?

Why else would her scent be on him? And what did they really know about Juvia’s mystery boyfriend? What was it she’d said?

Gray tried to remember her exact words, and he let out a groan as soon as he did.

Then Juvia met Logan, and he was very interested in Juvia and Juvia’s friends.

That sonofabitch!

He must have been using Juvia to spy on them all along!

A maelstrom of emotions engulfed him at the realization - rage at Acnologia for using Juvia when she was already vulnerable, guilt for telling her when Natsu was returning, and pity for the loneliness she felt that caused her to get into these situations.

Whatever the renegade had told Juvia to explain his absence, she would await his return.

And Gray knew exactly what it felt like to live in constant wait. Hoping and praying that the one you loved would come back to you. Standing in place while everyone around you went on with their lives. He couldn’t just sit back and let that happen to her. Not when he knew damn well “Logan” was never coming back.

He wanted to scream in frustration, knowing Natsu was holding on by a thin thread as it was. But as much as he loathed the idea, he knew what he was going to have to do, and just how much it was going to piss everyone off.

“Is something wrong?” Irene peered at him with concern.

Gray could only look back at where the slayers were sitting, and past them to where the red dragons were talking to Natsu.

Fuck my life...

0-0

When Erza woke up that morning, she’d barely been able to contain her excitement. After so many years spent worrying about her mother and childhood friends, her wait was finally over.

Lyon had teased her as they’d gotten ready, but he’d taken her to her favorite bakery for breakfast and then they’d gone for a walk around town before work. It was a beautiful day, with nary a cloud in the sky. A soft breeze played with their hair and clothes as she chatted about the welcome home party she wanted to throw for their family and friends.

As excited as she was, it took her a few minutes to realize Lyon had gone quiet, even longer to understand why.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry!”

“You’re fine.” Lyon chuckled, squeezing her hand. “I love to see you like this, and I am excited, too. I’m just feeling a little conflicted. It makes me glad to know Gray is happy. The gods know he deserves to be, but he’s my little brother and it makes me sad when I realize he won’t be a part of these things anymore.”

“I’m sure we’ll still see him.” Erza rested her head on Lyon’s shoulder, smiling when she felt him wrap his arm around her waist. “Honestly, the idea of those two being dragons is terrifying.”

“And just think, you won’t be able to keep them in check anymore,” Lyon said.

Erza stopped in her tracks. Oh gods, Lyon was right! She’d been the only one able to keep those two under control. Who was going to do that now? How much destruction would they be capable of during one of their squabbles now that they were both dragons?

“Relax, I was joking!” Lyon laughed, “They’ll be fine.”

Erza wasn’t as sure of that. She knew that while it would make Natsu happy to have Gray at long last, it would also devastate him to lose his father. She wished, not for the first time, that Natsu would have confided in her over the years. That she could have helped him through some of the things he’d held inside for so long. And more than anything, she hoped that he’d come see her so she could make him understand how much she still loved him.

But maybe it was time to take matters into her own hands. Now that everyone was coming home, she was done with worrying and waiting. If he wouldn’t come to her, then she would just have to go to him.

0-0

“Watch out!” Sting yelled as Gray came within a few inches of colliding with Happy.

Again.

“I’m doing my best.”

Sting held on to one of Gray’s fin spikes for dear life, even though it made him feel like his body was going to turn into a popsicle. He didn’t understand how Irene could remain so calm, and he honestly wished she’d stop interrogating Gray about Lyon so that he might at least focus more on his flying, which sucked royally.

To be fair, the guy had only been a dragon for a couple of hours, but still. Sting had lost count of how many times they’d almost crashed or suddenly lost altitude, and while Gray was apologetic, it did nothing to improve the feeling of impending doom Sting felt.

Although he knew a lot of that had more to do with the fact that they’d be home soon. As much as he’d tried to prepare himself mentally for any outcome, he still dreaded the disappointment he was sure to see on Anna’s face once she learned what he’d done. And he could only imagine how furious Erza and the other guards would be.

Sting knew he deserved all of it. After all, he’d put everyone in danger. He didn’t even want to consider what might have happened if Natsu hadn’t been there to fight Acnologia.

His biggest fear, though, was that the Talos village elders would decide to exile him. If that happened, he didn’t know what he’d do. He didn’t want to take Rogue away from his home, but he also knew his mate would refuse to stay without him.

Please, please let them forgive me. I will do anything…

Rogue’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Everything’s going to be fine.

He turned his head to glance at his mate, who along with Gajeel rode atop Natsu, and flashed him a sheepish smile.

How did you know?

I don’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking. I know you… They’ll understand.

I hope you’re right.

I know I am. Have faith in them.

He could feel Rogue’s love pouring into him and it calmed him down some, right until Gray dropped a few hundred feet all at once. It was terrifying enough that Irene finally stopped with her questions.

“Gray!”

“Sorry! I’ve never flown holding anything before.”

“Yeah, well, no one asked you to bring him along.” Sting snapped, thinking back to the tense fight that had ensued when Gray had made his bizarre request to bring Acnologia’s body back with them.

All of them had been against it, but no one as much as Atlas. The fighting had only ended when Natsu came out in Gray’s defense. No one was about to argue with him in his state.

Sting sighed in defeat. Really, who was he to judge about doing the wrong thing for what felt like the right reasons?

“I’m sorry. I get what you’re trying to do, and it’s nice and all, but it burns me up that we’re bringing him home like some kind of war hero.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” Gray hissed. “I just want Juvia to move on.”

“I know. But have you given any thought to how she’s going to feel when she realizes she led him straight to us.”

“It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know!”

“Do you really think that’s going to make one bit of difference to her?”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s past is past and nothing is going to change it.” Irene joined the conversation, peering back at Sting with a knowing look. “If this Juvia feels guilty, she’ll just have to work through it while she grieves. Just like everyone else.”

“That wasn’t exactly subtle, Irene.” Sting grumbled.

“Wasn’t trying to be, dear.”

“Ugh, I don’t know if I can handle having two Erzas around again.”

“Oh Sting,” Irene chuckled, “You never could.”

“We’ll land in front of the village gates,” Natsu announced, and the dragons grunted their assent.

All but one.

“Hey, Gray?” Sting called out, trying not to let his sudden panic show in his voice.

“Hmmm?”

“You do know how to land, right?”

“Sort of?” Gray’s nervous chuckle in no way made him feel any better.

Oh well, he’d lived a good life. At least he got to see that fucker die before he bit it.

“I’m not worried at all,” Irene said as she patted Gray’s neck. “And I have to say if your brother is half the man you are - well, uhm dragon, I guess - then Erza is a very lucky girl.”

“He’s better,” Gray said. “I’d have never gotten this far if it hadn’t been for him. But I will forever deny having said that.”

Irene laughed. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“So, uhm, Wendy mentioned you were nervous about Anna and Erza seeing your scales.”

“I was, but almost dying earlier made me realize how silly I was being. I think everything will be okay.”

“Good, because I saw them last night, and they were really excited to see you.”

Sting tuned them out, paying more attention to their surroundings. It had been quite a while since he’d been home, but he recognized their mountains up ahead. They would be at the village in the next few minutes. He knew he was right when he felt Gray tense beneath him and Natsu appeared next to them.

Not a word passed between them, but as Gray made adjustments, Sting knew that Natsu was talking to him through their bond.

He reached out to Rogue through their own bond.

Nice knowing you!

Stop being so dramatic, he’s doing fine.

Sure, for someone who learned to fly in the astral realm, whatever the heck that is.

The sound of Rogue’s laughter was exactly what he needed to hear to relax.

I love you.

I love you too, dork. Might want to hold on now.

In the end, Gray mostly glided down, with Atlas and Natsu on either side of him. It wasn’t a bad landing overall. There had been plenty worse during the war, but Sting still felt the need to kiss the ground after he jumped down.

The village gates stood in front of him, looking slightly different from what he remembered, but still familiar.

Behind him, he could hear everyone else dismounting, as Natsu teased Gray about his flying skills while Happy and Atlas laughed along.

The rest of the dragon slayers joined him in staring at the doors, None of them making any effort to enter. Then Wendy grabbed onto his left hand, while Rogue took his right. One by one, they linked hands and squeezed tightly before taking that first step together.

They were home at last.

0-0

Erza didn’t know how it was possible, but this day felt longer than all the years she’d waited put together.

She’d managed to keep her good mood for most of the morning, but as the hours passed and there was no sign of the dragon slayers, she began to worry. Her mind filled with all sorts of worst-case scenarios, and no matter how hard she tried to dismiss each and every one as ridiculous, another would rear its ugly head to replace it.

She attacked her work with vigor, hoping to distract herself from her thoughts, and that worked for a time, until she ran out of things to do. Lunchtime came and went, but she remained in her office, too worried to be in the least bit hungry.

Where the hell were they? Why was it taking so long?

That sense that something was wrong was stronger than ever. But what could she do? She didn’t know what direction they were coming from, so even if she sent some guards to investigate, what would she tell them? Well, she could always-

A knock on her door interrupted her planning. She looked up from her desk to see Juvia standing at her door.

“Is Erza okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she lied, plastering a smile on her face. “How can I help you, Juvia?”

“Lyon was called away to deal with a disturbance in town. He asked Juvia to make sure Erza ate lunch.”

“Lunch?” As riled up as she was, the idea of food was unappetizing, so she tried to placate Juvia with another lie. “Oh, yes, thank you. I’ll be sure to grab something later.”

Juvia crossed her arms in front of her chest, and studied her, “Lyon said Erza would say that, and to not take no for an answer.”

“Did he now?” Erza made no attempt to hide her irritation. She’d never enjoyed being babied or handled. It was one of the quickest ways to ensure her wrath.

Just who did Lyon think he was, anyway? She’d taken care of herself just fine for years before meeting him. If he thought he could just come in and-

“Lyon also said to tell Erza he’d asked the cook to make strawberry cake for dessert today.”

Strawberry cake?!

She wanted to laugh at Lyon’s blatant attempt to manipulate her. Like she was so simple that she’d submit to his whims just because he’d asked the cook to make her favorite dessert.

It was just cake.

Sweet, moist, delicious cake with frosting and luscious fresh strawberries on top…

She tried to resist the temptation, but her stomach had already broken rank, grumbling its opinion on the matter, and whether she meant to or not, she was already walking towards Juvia.

“I suppose a quick break for lunch would be fine.” Erza ignored Juvia’s knowing smirk as she fell in step beside her.

“Erza’s friends will be home soon.” Juvia said, putting her arm around Erza’s shoulders and giving her a side hug. “Juvia just knows it!”

“Let’s hope so.”

The dining room was mostly empty, as everyone had already eaten. Lyon was true to his word. There was indeed a strawberry cake, and even better, the cook had saved two slices for her.

“Mind if I join you girls?”

Erza looked up from her dessert long enough to nod at Anna.

“I thought you’d be in your office,” Anna smiled.

“Can Juvia get Anna anything?”

“No, thank you. I was just going crazy waiting at the orphanage, so Andrius offered to watch the kids for a few hours.”

“Didn’t you get any sleep?” Erza asked, noticing the dark circles under Anna’s eyes.

“Not really, I started worrying about Gray, and that got me thinking about Igneel and Porly, which then led me straight to Natsu.” Anna sighed. “That poor boy, I can’t even begin to imagine how he’ll take it.”

“Yes, I thought about him this morning as well.”

“Why is Anna worried about Gray?” Juvia peered at Anna with obvious alarm. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, uhm, I-” Anna bit her lip, clearly not knowing how to respond to Juvia’s question.

Erza wasn’t doing much better. How much could she tell her? When he’d resigned a few days earlier, Gray had told everyone he and Natsu were moving away. She should have realized that meant he had no intention of telling Juvia about his actual plans.

“Anna worries about all of us. She can’t help it. After all, she raised most of us.” Erza tried to defuse the situation by acting purposefully obtuse. She cringed internally at her words, knowing how lame they sounded, but couldn’t come up with anything better.

“Yes, but it sounded like it was more than that.” Juvia insisted.

One of the younger guards, a woman by the name of Alyssa, chose that moment to run into the dining room, slamming into a table and cursing out in pain. All three of them winced in sympathy, but before Erza could ask her if she was alright, the girl yelled out.

“CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN!”

“There’s no need to yell, Alyssa. I’m right here. What is it? Do you have something to report?” Erza kept her composure, but she was tense. Could this be what she’d been waiting for?

“IT’S DRAGONS, MA’AM!”

“Dragons?” Erza jumped out of her chair, quickly followed by Anna and Juvia. “Where, how many?”

“FOUR DRAGONS, MA’AM, HEADED TOWARDS THE TOWN FROM THE NORTH.”

“Do you know if they were red dragons?”

“YES, MA’AM, THERE WERE-”

Erza didn't know what else Alyssa might have said because she ran out of the dining room as fast as she could. If they were red dragons, it had to be them!

She sprinted down the long hallway until she reached the doors, stopping only long enough to pull them open. She heard others running behind her and hoped the door didn’t hit them when she raced outside.

However long it had taken Alyssa to find her was enough time for the dragons to have landed in the grassy area in front of the village gates. Erza could see them clearly now. There were indeed four dragons, three red ones and a blue one with wings and horns made of ice that had to be Gray.

However, she filed that away for later, for as majestic as the dragons were, they were nothing to her when compared to the individuals who stood in a line in front of them. There was one among them Erza didn’t recognize, but once again, the details meant little to her at the moment.

Her eyes filled with tears as she watched them take a step forward together.

“You’re home,” she whispered.

And then, as if a spell had broken once she’d said the words, she yelled them out with all her might, wanting everyone to hear the joy that was in her heart.

“YOU’RE HOME!”

She lunged at them, not paying any attention to which one of them she tackled. Not that it mattered, as they all fell to the ground in a chorus of grunts and laughing complaints.

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re as impulsive as ever.” The sound of her mother’s laughter left her reeling, and she pushed herself up to search for her, taking a moment to see who was underneath her.

She could feel the blood rushing to her face as, to her dismay, she’d landed on the one person she didn’t know. She scrambled to get off him, and in her haste, landed back on the grass. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t even worry about it.” the man said, waving at her with an amused grin. “I’m Oliver, by the way. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Erza nodded at him, too flustered to say anything else. There was a light tap on her shoulder and she looked up to see her mother offering her a hand up.

She grabbed hold of it and found herself pulled into a familiar embrace.

“I missed you so much,” Erza cried, holding her mother close.

“I missed you too.” Irene ran her fingers lightly through Erza’s hair, playing with it as she’d done when Erza was a child. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, sweetheart.”

They separated, and Erza got her first good look at her mother. It horrified her to see a patch of red dragon scales on her cheek, not because it marred her beauty, but because of what it could mean.

“Mother, those scales- are you?”

“Turning into a dragon? No.” Irene assured her. “I used a lot of dragon magic during the war, but Natsu removed the dragon slayer enchantment. It won’t get any worse.”

“If it bothers you, Atlas said he could create some sort of illusion spell-”

“No, you’re perfect!” Erza was so relieved to learn she wouldn’t lose her mother again that she crushed her to her chest in a violent hug.

“I’m not going anywhere, Erza. I promise.” Irene said once she’d regained use of her lungs.

All around them there were sounds of people laughing and yelling greetings and as much as she wanted to hold on to her mother for a little longer, she knew that there was someone else who had been awaiting her return just as anxiously.

“There you are!”

She turned at the sound of Lyon’s voice and saw him hurrying towards her, looking entirely out of breath. “I came as soon as I heard. Did you see your mom yet?”

“Indeed, she did,” Irene answered, moving to stand next to Erza and stopping Lyon in his tracks.

He gawked at her for a moment, seeming uncertain of what to do next, but Erza rescued him. She stepped forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him to her side.

She felt a little anxious, remembering how intimidating her mother could be and knowing how easily flustered Lyon could get when he was nervous.

She really wanted him to make a good first impression.

“Mother, I’d like you to meet Lyon Vastia.”

Erza wanted to tell her everything wonderful about Lyon, but to her horror, she got tongue tied instead.

“I’m pleased to finally meet you,” Lyon said, bowing his head briefly in a gesture of respect before offering his hand. “I’m Erza’s husband,”

Erza watched her mother’s face nervously. It stunned her when Irene merely shook his hand with an amused smile. “The pleasure is all mine. A little dragon told me all about you on the way here.”

“A dragon?” Lyon sounded puzzled, and Erza could almost work out the second he figured out Irene was referring to Gray.

“You mean it really worked?”

“See for yourself,” Irene said, pointing at the blue dragon that Erza had noticed earlier. It stood some distance away from the crowd of people, along with the red dragon that had become their town’s protector.

The dragon they now knew was Natsu.

Erza tore her eyes away from the dragons to focus back on her mother, and she saw Lyon do the same, but Irene waved them away.

“Go to them, I’m not sure how much longer they’ll stick around.”

“Are you sure?” Erza hedged.

“Yes, we’ll talk more later. There’s someone else I need to say hello to. Assuming the kids let me anywhere near her, that is.” Irene said with a laugh.

It didn’t take long for Erza to sight Anna surrounded by Sting, Rogue, Wendy and even Gajeel. All of them were talking at once while Anna laughed at them and asked them to slow down.

It reminded Erza so much of their younger years, though back then she and Natsu would have been in there too, demanding their own slice of attention.

“She’s even more exquisite than I remember,” Irene mused.

“Aren’t you going to go to her?”

“In a bit, let them have their moment. I’ll have her to myself soon enough.”

She shooed them away, turning to greet one of the village elders.

0-0

“That really is him, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’d know that resting bitchface anywhere.”

“And I suppose yours is better?” Erza taunted, but Lyon only snorted in reply.

It didn’t take them long to reach the dragons. Lyon wasn’t all that surprised by Gray’s appearance, having seen the ice sculpture his brother had molded weeks earlier. Although even that paled compared to the real thing.

Lyon found himself mesmerized by the ice that made up Gray’s wings, horns, talons, and the tip of his tail. It was flawless and he couldn’t help but wonder what creations made of it would look like. But he shifted his focus to Erza as she slowly approached Natsu.

He could see the uncertainty on her face, and he couldn’t blame her. He knew how much she loved and missed Natsu. There was a lot of guilt mixed into her feelings as well, but he knew she’d face it as she did everything else.

Natsu relaxed slightly in their presence, but his expression remained guarded and he inched closer to Gray.

“Hello, Natsu,” Erza said, reaching her hand out tentatively. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Hey Erza,” Natsu leaned into her hand for a moment, allowing her to pet his snout.

“I know this isn’t the time for long conversations, but,” Erza touched her hand to her heart. “I’d like to talk with you sometime, if that’s alright.”

Lyon watched with bated breath, waiting for Natsu’s response just as much as Erza.

“He wants to talk to her,” Gray told him. “He was just afraid of how she’d react. Now that he’s seen she’s not angry or scared of him, I think they’ll be fine.”

“Well, that’s good. I know she’s missed him terribly.” Lyon said, switching his attention to his brother. “I want to apologize to him for our last meeting as well, but I doubt he’d want to hear that now.”

“Probably not.” Gray agreed, “He’s been doing a little better, but I want to get him home.”

“I can hear you, you know.” Natsu complained, sounding much more like his usual self than Lyon had expected. He refrained from responding with one of his usual put downs, regardless.

Instead, he studied Gray and Natsu closely, pleased to see they already radiated that same bubble he’d always noticed around them. He was sure whatever happened next, wherever they went, they’d be alright. And that was all he’d ever wanted for them.

“Well then, we won’t keep you, there will be plenty of time to talk later.” Lyon backed away and tripped over something. He looked down at it with a puzzled expression.

“Just one thing before you go, though. What’s with the corpsicle?”

“Oh crap, I almost forgot about him.” Gray groaned. “That’s Acnologia. He ambushed them some miles from here. Atlas and I barely got there in time to help finish him.”

“You were in a fight already?!” Lyon sputtered.

“So that’s what happened,” Erza said, “I was wondering why Sting and the others looked like they’d been in a fight.”

“How can you sound so calm?!” Lyon protested, peering at Gray more closely in search of injuries.

“Don’t be such a worrywart. I’m fine. You realize I’m a dragon now, right? Plus, all of us fought him together.”

Lyon wanted to ask more about what had happened, remembering how terrifying that black dragon had been, but quickly realized it was better for his sanity if he didn’t.

“You’re trying to tell me that man is the black dragon that attacked the village?” Lyon examined the body again, feeling decidedly skeptical about what he was being told, and wondering what on Earthland would have possessed them to bring the corpse back here.

“Yeah, he was one of the renegade dragon slayers. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing he was.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I think he might also be Juvia’s mysterious boyfriend. Her scent is mixed up with his.”

“Her scent? Okay, first of all, that’s creepy. How do you even know what she smells like?”

“I just do. I know what you smell like too.” Gray replied crossly, “Would you like me to describe it?”

“Oh no, poor Juvia! She was crazy about him.” Erza interjected, trying to keep them from derailing into their usual pointless bickering.

Lyon searched for any sign of the water mage and found her by the village entrance, watching along with a few of the newer guards.

This was going to break her heart.

“I had to bring him back once I caught her scent on him.”

Lyon immediately understood what his brother was getting at. Gray had wanted to shield Juvia from suffering through what he’d felt while Natsu was off fighting, even if it hurt her.

Erza also looked in Juvia’s direction and sighed. “Just get out of here. We’ll deal with it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you’d never planned on telling her about any of this,” Erza gestured at Gray’s body. “Besides, if he really was her boyfriend-”

“Well, that’s a lot to handle already.”

It took Lyon a moment to grasp everything Erza hadn’t said, and he couldn’t agree more with her assessment. He remembered Juvia joyously telling him about how Logan was so interested in everything to do with her, especially her friends.

“Off you go,” Lyon made a shooing gesture. “We’ve got this.”

“Won’t she know about the dragon thing, anyway?”

“No, the slayers have always kept any information about the dragons to themselves.” Erza reminded him, “Even I knew very little, and I grew up with them. I see no reason for that to change, especially now that the dragons want to be forgotten.”

Gray peered at Natsu, who nodded his agreement with Erza.

“I’ll leave it to you then,” Gray said. “Can you tell her- can you tell her I’m sorry?”

“Sure.”

“Natsu,” Erza implored, “Don’t be afraid to call for us if you need anything. We’re still your family.”

Natsu’s expressions softened slightly, and he offered a half smile in response.

They watched the two dragons fly off, Lyon snickering when he saw how sloppy Gray’s flying looked compared to Natsu.

Maybe he should hold off on getting that ride.

His thoughts turned to Juvia. He’d always been suspicious about the man’s refusal to cross the lake to come see her, but she’d seemed so happy. And he’d been glad that she’d finally put her obsession with Gray behind her, so he’d turned a blind eye. And that had almost proved fatal to their friends.

He intended to be a better friend to her while she mourned.

0-0

While they had flown the short distance home, Gray had worried about how Natsu would react to seeing the remnants of the spell, but Atlas had obviously expected that. He’d already removed all vestiges of it from sight.

He’d also dispelled all the furniture in their room save for the bed, which was now large enough to fit both of them comfortably. Natsu’s scarf lay folded neatly on top of it. Gray couldn’t tell if the temperature spell had been removed, as the cave’s heat didn’t seem to bother him anymore.

He was grateful for Atlas' actions, but it was also a tad disconcerting. It felt like his previous life had been erased, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. Natsu hadn’t said a word since they’d left and that worried him a bit as well, but he’d left it alone knowing he shouldn’t expect anything different. He had no idea how many memories Natsu had of Igneel in this cave, but Gray was sure he was thinking about all of them.

He could still recall how he’d felt immediately after Deliora had killed his parents, and while he knew Natsu had grieved for his mother, he’d never really known her. This type of grief was different. It would take time to heal, but that wasn’t a huge deal. After all, time was something they now had plenty of.

Natsu made no remark about their room being different, just walked in and curled up on the bed, with his head resting on the scarf. It would have been adorable if it wasn’t for the sadness in his eyes.

Lie with me?

It had been a long, emotionally draining day, and Gray had to admit he was exhausted as well.

Always.

Gray joined his husband on their bed, smiling happily when he felt Natsu coil their tails together. He cuddled him, murmuring sweet nothings and reveling in how perfectly they fit together. They soon fell into a deep sleep.

0-0

Gray woke before Natsu and, deciding to let him sleep a while longer, he ventured out of their room in search of food. Hearing an unfamiliar noise, he tracked it down to a room he’d never entered before. Inside it, Sting was packing up his and Rogue’s belongings into boxes.

“You guys are moving out?”

“Oh, hey man, you’re finally up.” Sting said, looking up from the box he was working on. “Yeah, it’d be kind of uncomfortable for Rogue to make the trek every day, unless he went, you know, shadow form.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Sting waved away his apology. “Anyway, we found an apartment to rent in town, close to that bakery Rogue likes and to the Guard Headquarters. We moved in a couple of days ago.”

“Wait, days? How long were we out?”

“About three days. It's been raining, so I hadn’t been able to grab our stuff yet.”

Three days?!

Gray knew they’d been tired, but damn. “Well, I guess that explains why I’m starving.”

Sting laughed, “You’d better get used to it, you have a dragon’s stomach now.”

“I have a dragon’s everything now,” Gray pointed out smugly.

“Including their sense of humor, I see.” Sting rolled his eyes.

“So what else did we miss while we slept?” Gray asked, leaning against the cave wall.

“Oh plenty. Let’s see,” Sting began counting off on his fingers. “Anna was reinstated as a Village Elder, and she and Irene got engaged. Gajeel and Wendy also rented apartments in town, they’re right next to each other though, so Oliver’s screwed. Speaking of which, he took over your spot in the Guard and Erza moved him into your old apartment.”

“That’s fine, it’s not like I'm ever going to use it again. Did everyone else go back?”

“Most of us did. Rogue is going to help Erza part-time while he figures out what he wants to do. Wendy will help out in emergencies, but she’s mostly going to work at the orphanage with Anna and continue to train as a healer. Talos hasn’t had a powerful healer since Natsu’s mom died.”

“Hey, uhm, how is he?” Sting was still looking at his hands when he asked, but Gray could hear the worry in his voice.

“He’s still asleep. He didn’t say much when we got back.”

“I’m not all that surprised by that. He’d already run himself ragged even before we left. Plus, you know- everything. He must’ve been exhausted.”

“He was.”

It touched Gray to know that Sting still cared for Natsu, but he didn’t like discussing his mate with him. It was awkward, and he didn’t want to get caught in the middle of their fight. He’d already tried to get Natsu to talk to Sting before he’d left, and that was as far as he was willing to go. This was something they’d have to sort out for themselves.

So he tried to change the subject.

“Do you happen to know how Juvia’s doing?”

“Well, like I said, it rained nonstop for the past couple of days, but the sun came out today, so I guess she must be doing better. You should ask Irene or Erza. I heard they talked to her.”

That was something, at least, although he wasn’t sure if learning more about who Logan was would help. Gray just hoped that whoever she set her sights on next would be someone more deserving of her affections.

He wondered what they’d done with Acnologia’s body. He knew Atlas had wanted to incinerate it personally, he’d made that much painfully clear during their fight.

“Do you think we could talk for a minute?”

Gray blinked at him blankly. “I thought we were talking.”

“Yes, no, I mean talk about what happened. You know, what I did.”

To his credit, Sting didn’t look away, even though he was obviously uncomfortable.

“Sting, you don’t have to.” Gray tried to wave him away. He’d already forgiven him.

Now that everything was over, he didn’t see the need to carry a grudge. And if he was being honest, if it had been Natsu who had been in danger, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to do anything different.

“Please, I need to apologize to you.” Sting begged, “I understand Natsu may never be able to forgive me, but I feel so terrible about how I fucked up your lives. Gods, and after I gave you that if you hurt him speech, too.”

“I honestly don’t think that there was anything else you could have done, and I know Natsu understands that too. If you need to hear it, I’ll be happy to say it. I forgive you. And who knows, maybe with time Natsu will too. But even if he never does, you need to stop torturing yourself and just move on from this whole fucking mess.”

“I know, I’m working on it. I already told Erza and the Elders about what I did.”

Gray sucked in a breath, “Oof, how did that go?”

“About as badly as I’d expected. The Elders wanted to kick me out of town, but Irene and Erza came out in my defense. So, I’m not the most popular guy in town right now, and I’ll be pulling the crappiest job details indefinitely, but I can stay and that’s all I could have hoped for.”

“That’s great.” Gray gave Sting a knowing glance. “This mate stuff is brutal, huh?”

“But it’s worth it.”

Gray couldn’t agree more.

“I’m gonna go figure out something to eat before you start looking edible.”

“Oh, one last thing!” Sting snapped his fingers. “The town is throwing a big celebration tomorrow night, and they wanted to invite the dragons to take part.”

“I’ll let them know.” Gray said, and with a wave he left to check on Natsu, smiling at Sting’s whispered Thank you.

It felt good to let it all go.

0-0

Rogue looked up as Sting entered their apartment, looking sweaty and disheveled and carrying far too many boxes. He got up to help, but Sting shook his head, holding the door open for someone Rogue couldn’t see as they were behind a stack of boxes.

It turned out to be Oliver, looking just as flushed as Sting. He uttered a cryptic ‘Don’t forget what you promised’ to Sting before waving goodbye to Rogue and heading out.

“What was that about?”

“Oh,” Sting chuckled nervously, “I sort of bribed him to help with the promise of distracting Gajeel so that he could spend some time with Wendy without him hovering. So I guess we’ll be having him over soon.”

He put the boxes down and collapsed on their sofa, and Rogue hurried to bring him a glass of cold water.

“You got the fridge working?”

“No, Lyon stopped by earlier and molded an enormous block of ice to keep in there for now.”

“This place is a shithole,” Sting sighed.

“It’s not so bad, and it’s close to the bakery,” Rogue reminded him.

“I’m sorry, love. It’s all my fault that no one would rent to us. I’m sure this place is nowhere near where you imagined us living.”

“Sting,” Rogue said, in fond exasperation. “We’ve lived in a cave for longer than I can remember. We’ve either slept on the ground or on magical furniture designed by a dragon who had zero concept of human comfort. This is fantastic. Besides, I told Erza how much the guy was charging us and I’ve never seen her leave a room so fast. I expect our rent will go down shortly.”

Sting gaped at him and then erupted into a fit of giggles, “Well, when you put it that way.”

“There is only one thing I require anywhere I live, and this place has it in spades.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Rogue didn’t know if Sting was being purposefully dense or not, but considering how rough the last couple of days had been for him, he didn’t mind boosting his ego a little.

“You, stupid. You’re all I need to be happy.”

“And wine?”

Rogue snorted, “Yes, you and wine. Speaking of which, Lyon dropped off a few bottles as a housewarming present when he came by. Would you like some?”

“Fuck, yeah!”

Rogue opened the fridge and pulled a bottle out quickly, not wanting to let too much warm air in. He didn’t bother with any cups, just removed the cork and brought the bottle back to the sofa with him.

Sting had already shifted on the sofa so he was lying on it, his legs slightly spread so Rogue could lie between them. He handed the bottle over while he got comfortable. Sting took a swig and handed it back.

“This is good.”

Rogue agreed once he’d tasted it, although given how little wine he’d been able to get his hands on since they’d left, he wouldn’t have been all that picky about quality.

Lyon, however, had always had excellent taste. Something Rogue had learned during nights spent sneaking drinks in the barracks while riding out some punishment or another.

It became a tradition of sorts for them, and it was one he hoped they could pick back up again, minus the punishments, of course.

Sting ran his fingers through Rogue’s hair, tugging on it and massaging his scalp as they continued to pass the bottle back and forth. It felt wonderful and the combination of that and the wine were making him feel incredibly relaxed.

“You know, it feels kind of strange.”

“What does?” Rogue murmured.

“Just lying here like this,” Sting said. “Not having to worry about being attacked, ambushed, or even seen. I like it.”

“Hmm, I do too. We can do anything we want now. Gives me a few ideas.”

“Oh yeah? Any in particular?”

Rogue heard Sting put the bottle down on the floor and grinned. He turned until he was facing his mate and leaned in for a kiss, sucking gently on Sting’s bottom lip before delving inside his parted lips.

Sting wrapped his arms around Rogue’s waist, pulling their bodies closer as they kissed.

“Hmm, I like that idea.” he said, chasing Rogue’s mouth as he pulled back to peer down at him mischievously.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve got plenty more,” Rogue assured him. “And a lifetime to try them out.”

“I’ll be right here with you.” Sting promised solemnly, pulling Rogue back down for a kiss of his own.

0-0

Natsu stood at the entrance to Igneel’s room.

Atlas had told him his father had left him a letter, but he hadn’t worked up the courage to read it until now. He could see the long parchment on the desk, along with the writing supplies his father had favored. Natsu had so many memories of Igneel in this room, working away on a spell or writing messages for the dragons to take with them to the war front.

Knowing he’d never see him there again, well, it was crushing, but he couldn’t hide from it any longer.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Atlas wandered out of his room and eyed him with concern.

“No,” Natsu said, after giving it some thought. “This is something I need to do by myself.”

“Alright, but I’m right next door if you need me.”

Natsu knew that both Atlas and Gray were walking on eggshells around him at the moment, both worried about how he felt about them going along with Igneel’s plan and it saddened him to see it. He wasn’t quite feeling like himself, that much was true, but he loved both of them deeply and he knew that anything they might have done, it had been for his sake. And how could he really fault them for that?

To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping to find in that letter, but it felt like he was drowning in his loss and he wanted to find the strength to move forward.

And Igneel had always been good at giving him direction.

That wasn’t fair, though. At some point, he had to grow up and decide his own path, beginning with easing the minds of those he held dearest.

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Natsu said, “Although I wish you had told me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Atlas’ fire dimmed, reflecting his mood, and he moved to enter his room.

“Hey,” Natsu called out, suddenly worried by how meekly Atlas had been acting. “You’re not planning on doing anything stupid, are you?”

“Always, kid. But I have no plans to go anywhere, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re stuck with me.”

Atlas’ smile was but a shadow of his usual one, but it heartened Natsu to see it.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” Natsu grumbled, hugging his uncle as hard as he could, just to feel him against him.

Atlas hugged back just as hard until finally pulling away and gently shoving Natsu towards the entrance. “Get in there, already.”

Natsu took one step, then another, and everywhere he looked, the ghosts of his memories comforted him with their warmth.

0-0

“I thought I’d find you here.” Gray huffed, catching his breath from having climbed up the mountain.

“Did you seriously just climb up the mountain?” Natsu gawked at him. “Why didn’t you just fly?”

“Cause I suck.”

To his chagrin, Natsu didn’t disagree with him, but he laughed out loud and that made Gray’s hardship worth it.

Natsu patted the ground next to him invitingly. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Gray plopped next to his mate and gazed up at the sky. It was indeed beautiful to watch as the sun’s last rays mingled with the stars. But he was more concerned with Natsu and he studied him, trying to figure out what was going on. He didn’t feel any of the sadness that had been present earlier.

“Are you okay? You’re acting-” Gray struggled to find a word that wouldn’t be misconstrued.

“I take it Atlas told you I read the letter?”

“Yeah. Do you want to talk about it?”

Natsu nodded, staring off at the sky as he collected his thoughts.

“He told me about everything. Your struggles in the astral realm, how you and Atlas both fought with your decisions, and all the guilt he felt over his mistakes.”

“There was so much I didn’t know about him, and some of it hurt because I never understood how truly lonely he felt over the years. But most of all, what I saw in that letter was how much he loved me and how determined he was that I have the life that he only got the barest glimpses of.”

“And that’s what I want too. I want to live that life with you.”

Natsu rested his head on Gray’s shoulder. “I love you, Princess.”

“I still can’t believe you gave up everything to be with me. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

“It wasn’t as hard as you might think.” Gray admitted, and it was true. Once he’d let go of his fears, it had been a simple decision to make. “I love you too, Natsu. So much it scares me sometimes. If there was any chance we could be together like this, I had to take it. I was just worried you’d hate me for it.”

“I could never hate you. You’ve always been everything to me.” Natsu lowered his head. “That’s why I could never really let you go, even when I knew it was what was best for you.”

Gray wasn’t having that. He lifted Natsu’s head so that he could look into his eyes, and see how serious he was. “And now, you’ll never have to.”

Natsu frowned, looking uncomfortable with his next words. “You know we can’t stay here forever, right? We’ll have to move to the island.”

“Is that what you’re worried about? I already figured as much, dummy.”

“We can come visit during the summer solstice, though. I’ll have to leave the island anyway.”

Now that he hadn’t counted on, and it pleased him to learn he’d get to see his friends at least once a year.

“Hey, do you think I’ll change too?”

“We won’t know until then, but it could happen.” Natsu grinned just thinking about it. “That'd be pretty fun. But we’ll definitely need to work on your flying just in case you don’t. That would be a pretty pathetic way for me to die.”

“Jerk,” Gray grumbled at Natsu’s teasing. “You know, I seem to remember you were pretty ticklish as a human, I wonder…”

He pounced, attempting to catch Natsu off guard.

Dragons, apparently, weren’t ticklish at all, but Gray didn’t care because soon they were wrestling around, nipping and scratching as they each sought to pin the other down. It was more difficult than he expected, but that was probably because neither one of them could seem to stop laughing.

And all Gray could think about, besides gaining the upper hand, was just how much he’d missed this. Playing together and just having fun, without the weight of the world constantly on their shoulders. For the first time since Natsu had left him to go fight, he finally felt like everything was going to turn out alright.

They continued until they were both laid on their backs, spent and out of breath.

“I’m so going to get you next time, Flame Brain.” Gray panted, repeating a taunt as familiar as it was empty.

“In your dreams, Ice Princess.” Natsu said with his usual fanged grin.

Gray rolled onto his belly, his attention caught by a movement in the sky. “Hey, is that a shooting star? Hurry, make a wish.”

“I have nothing left to wish for.” Natsu said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he righted himself and gazed at Gray with awe.

Stupid romantic dragon!

He’d never tire of the way Natsu always knew exactly what to say to make him feel all flustered.

Gray draped his body over Natsu’s, hugging him to his chest so that he wouldn’t see the blood he could feel rising to his face. He’d recently discovered that his favorite thing about being a dragon was his tail. He loved how it instinctively sought Natsu’s whenever they touched, just as it did now.

Sitting here, doing nothing more than staring at the stars, it was perfection.

It had taken them years, more than Gray cared to remember. Both of them had made mistakes, but against all odds, they had been granted a second chance to find their home in each other.

And they lived happily ever after…

THE END

Thank you for reading!

[abarbaricyalp]

@sambuckylibrary

SamBucky Halloween Prompt 1: Urban Legends

High School AU, spooky ghost stories and dead girl’s revenge

Rated G: mild cursing (AO3 link in the notes)

Haunt me, baby, one more time

“Legend says that every 17 years, the body of Lyla Ray comes back from the dead, looking for her next victim,” Sam whispered severely. Bucky’s attention was rapt on him, unblinking and fully engaged. “She preys on beautiful young men, the kind that killed her all those years ago. And she cuts their hearts out to eat it.”

“That’s a little on the nose,” Bucky breathed back, but his gaze didn’t waver. The bottom of Sam’s truck bed was starting to get uncomfortable, even with all the blankets he and Bucky had piled into it and Louisiana was hot on October 28th, so the blanket thrown over their heads--turning them into one lopsided ghost to anyone who happened to drive by and look--was getting unbearable.

“Do you want to go see where her body is?” Sam asked.

“I thought you couldn't bury people so close to the coast.”

“She’s buried,” Sam assured. “So far down underground so that maybe she won’t dig her way out.”

Bucky shivered involuntarily and Sam grinned. “How long ago was her last supposed appearance?” he asked.

“A year after we were born.”

Bucky let out a breath of realization. “I see. So she’s supposed to come back tonight,” he said.

“Exactly. If we hurry, we can see her come up.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted the full Louisiana experience while you were stuck down here?”

“Did I say stuck?” Bucky asked, reaching over to cup Sam’s cheek before pulling him into a slow kiss. “I’m sure I didn’t mean stuck.”

Sam grinned against his mouth, a little thankful for the blanket over them since they were parked just off the road. Then again, Halloween always made him feel invincible, so he probably would’ve let Bucky kiss him with or without the blanket.

He let Bucky distract him up until Bucky tried to lay him out over the blankets--later, definitely later--at which point he pushed him back. “Come on, you have to come with me,” he said, pulling on Bucky’s hands.

Bucky sighed like it was the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe it was. Bucky was the biggest skeptic Sam had ever met. Most kids new to the state were wide eyed and excited about the hundred billion ghost stories that permeated every street and building. Not Bucky Barnes though. He couldn’t be tasked to believe in any story about any monster or ghost or legend. Nothing phased him. Not any of the ghost tours Sam had dragged him to, not the haunted houses that had crept up in the weeks leading to Halloween, not the voodoo or tarot shops that always sent a thrill of excitement down Sam’s spine. Bucky just didn’t buy any of it, which made him even more enchanting to Sam’s stupid heart. Opposites attract and all that.

Bucky stood up, knocking the blanket away, and hauled Sam with him before climbing over the edge of the truck and waiting for Sam to do the same. By design, they were already pretty near the cemetery and it was getting dark, so Sam let his fingers graze over the back of Bucky’s hand until Bucky tangled them together.

“Y’know,” Sam said after a few steps, “you’re just like a Layla Ray victim.”

“Am I?” Bucky amused. “How do you reckon?”

“Oh come on. You’re a total pretty boy. Total heartbreaker.”

“Samuel Thomas, have I broken your heart?” Bucky asked in mock affront.

The thought of this thing between them maybe not being permanent broke Sam’s heart every damn day, actually. And Bucky being adamant about going back to New York for college was devastating too. “Not me. But I know you got a string behind you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and knocked their hands against Sam’s thigh softly. “You’re terrible to me. You’re like her victims. You’re breakin’ my heart right now as we speak. And with eyes like that? A mouth like that? Total pretty boy too.”

Sam laughed and leaned into Bucky’s side. “Now you’re just flattering.”

“Nah, it’s true. I’ve heard the girls at school talk about you. All of Sarah’s friends are obsessed with you. Becca thinks you’re the cutest.”

“They’re freshmen. They hardly have taste yet. Sarah’s friends are just happy I pay attention to them in the hallways.”

“Well, Sarah’s friends like you a lot more than Becca’s friends have ever liked me,” Bucky said. “Which has to count for something.”

“Nah, ‘cause you’re an asshole. I totally get where those girls are coming from.”

Bucky glanced down the street before hauling Sam into a kiss that sent Sam’s head spinning through the dark night. “You think assholes can kiss like that, Wilson?”

Sam still couldn’t think but he nodded anyway because being contrary to Bucky was second nature.

Bucky snorted and let go of Sam’s waist. “Then I’m an asshole who likes you a whole lot. Even if you’re, like, super mean to me all the time.”

“You like it,” Sam said and hurried to catch back up to Bucky. “Here, it’s just up ahead.”

“Yeah, I might’ve missed the gate,” Bucky agreed sarcastically.

“We can be a little extravagant,” Sam said, looking up at the metal monstrosity, a remnant of the past, holding all the secrets of the past too. “Gotta keep the ghosts inside, y’know.”

“From what I hear, you’re not very good at that part.”

Maybe not. “Layla Ray isn’t a ghost, she’s a Revenant.”

“She’s a bear?” Bucky asked, just to be obtuse.

“You’re such an asshole,” Sam repeated and pulled him into the cemetery. “She’s buried towards the back, ‘cause she’s so old, y’know. And so that maybe she’ll be confused while she’s trying to get out.”

“Wait a second, this girl has been eating hearts for centuries now and she’s been buried underground for most of the time this cemetery’s been around to keep her buried, but actually it’s not working since she’s been wandering around?”

“That’s not the point,” Sam said, waving his hand in the air. “The point is the story.”

“I get the story. I’m just saying, stick to a reason why she’s buried instead of cremated or something.”

“She’s buried because that’s how the story works.”

“You know, she ought to come after you, usin’ her name and tragic end to scare new kids at your school.”

“We used to come out here all the time when we were kids,” Sam said. “The worst trouble I ever got in was when I brought Sarah with me once and dragged a stick down her arm while she was looking at the gravestone.”

Bucky snorted. “And I’m the asshole.”

“I’ve been waiting for seventeen years for this. Just let me have this one night.”

“If this is a once in seventeen years event, why ain’t no one else out here?” Bucky asked.

“I dunno, guess you grow out of it,” Sam said with a shrug. “Or maybe no one wants to risk being the guy who gets his heart eaten.”

“Right. Or you just made this up to get me out here all alone. Maybe you’re actually the ghost.”

“Am I that unbelievable?” Sam teased. He leaned up and stole another kiss before weaving Bucky to the back of the cemetery. He made sure to avoid walking over any plots that happened to be in the ground, though there weren’t many. Finally, nearer to the back fence, they came to a stop in front of a gravestone that read Layla George Ray 1796-1813 Beloved Daughter.

“I hate looking at tombstones for people our age,” Bucky said, reaching out to run his fingers over the lettering of Layla’s name.

“That’s almost touching, Barnes,” Sam said.

Bucky crouched down to run his hand over the even, cut grass that adorned the top of the grave. “No fresh dirt. Guess your revenant isn’t so hungry tonight,” he said, tossing a grin over his shoulder. “Even with two eligible guys standing around.”

Suddenly a woman’s scream pierced through the night and Bucky sprawled back on his ass, scrambling away without ever being able to get his feet under him.

Sam wrapped an arm around his shoulders when they finally collided and then sank down himself, cackling so hard he could barely breathe.

“Oh my God, Barnes,” he gasped. “Your face!”

“Sam!” Bucky cried. “Didn’t you fucking hear that? What was that?”

Sam fell onto his back, clutching at his ribs, knees bent up to his chest. It didn’t help retain any air, but it happened anyway. “Jesus, look at you,” he wheezed and buried his face in his own arm. “You really thought--” He wheezed some more and real tears slipped out from his eyes.

“What?” Bucky asked, still panting, still ready to bolt, but now more confused than terrified. “What are you talking about?”

Sam uncurled himself and held out his phone. The scream pierced through the air again and cut off abruptly when Sam silenced it. “You thought-- You really thought a dead girl was coming out of her grave to eat your heart.”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Bucky snapped, finally catching up to what Sam had done. He sat back heavily on the ground and Sam broke out in new laughter.

“Your face, Barnes! You were so fucking scared.”

“I thought someone was dying, Wilson.”

“You thought someone was coming back from the dead,” Sam corrected.

“I hate you. I hope you do get haunted.”

“You can’t hope for what you don’t believe in,” Sam pointed out.

“I can hope for what you believe in. And I hope all sorts of creepy shit haunts your ass for years. I hope you don’t sleep for ages.”

“Oh come on,” Sam said with a smug smirk. “You don’t mean that. You love cuddling with me when you think I’m asleep.”

Bucky glared balefully at him. “Cuddling with you when you’re awake is just as fine by me.”

“Besides, if I get haunted, that ghostie’s gonna be all up in your business too,” he pointed out. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet and offered his hand down to Bucky. “Come on, baby. I’ll make it up to you.”

Bucky followed the long line of his arm up to Sam’s face before reaching for his hand and standing as well. “That a promise, Wilson?”

“Well, those blankets weren’t just for story time, y’know.”

“I like the sound of that. Keep on talking.” Bucky closed his fingers around Sam’s and Sam took it as the reconciliation it was. Together, they started for the front gate again.

Behind them, others talked too.

[seaweedbrain404]

Wolfstar Au! : Parties and Morning Regrets

read it on ao3

pt2

Parties weren’t exactly Remus’ scene. It’s not that he hated the loud noise, smelly sweaty drunk people who constantly bumped into him or the inevitable hangover he would be most certainly having the next day. Except, he did hate all of those things, so why was he there?

The answer was simple: Lily Evans. Aka his best friend and flatmate. She had wanted to go, Remus couldn’t remember why. Maybe it was for a birthday? or a promotion? He couldn’t recall. Although that might’ve been the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol he had managed to consume in the past few hours. Remus wasn’t a light weight by any means so it really was copious amounts.

Drunk and a little annoyed because Lily had ditched him at some point and now he couldn’t find her, Remus made his way to the corner of the room where he could hopefully be left alone. He’d also have to keep an eye out for her, in case she needed help or in case she wanted to leave. He doubted any of those things, vaguely remembering that Lily wanted to go to the party to get laid. Which was fair.

Remus was propped up against the wall, drink in hand when it all went downhill. He only just began to entertaining the idea of either finding Lily and telling her he was going him or getting laid himself. He preferred the latter but didn’t have much of a say in it when someone came up next to him.

“Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ brain short circuited when he heard the voice. This was proof the universe hated him. As if the accident that happened shortly after he and Lily had moved to New York had been any indication of the universe having it out for him.

“What?” He managed to sound vaguely disinterested as his gaz met the other person’s.

Sirius Black looked the same as he did when they were 17. Same stupid leather jacket and everything. It made Remus want to groan because it was so stupid, he thought he’d left all of this back in England. Clearly he was about to be proven wrong.

Sirius shrunk back at the tone. He wasn’t used to Remus being so cold and bitter. Remus didn’t care though, Sirius had hurt him and he had some nerve coming up to him again.

“Just thought I’d say hi”

“Well, hi”

“Mmm...” Sirius paused for a moment, “how have you been?”

“Grand”

“Oh.... did you get into that school you wanted?” Sirius tried again and Remus almost felt bad for him.

If Remus wasn’t intoxicated, he would’ve told Sirius to go away. Instead he answered the question. “No, got my second choice though”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Remus didn’t want the pity Sirius was so clearly trying to offer. He had gotten over himself, it was years ago that he got rejected from his first school of choice and his second one was still really good. Then a thought occurred to him, “why are you in New York?”

“Oh!” Sirius seemed surprised by the question, Remus couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been exactly pleasant up until this point. “Business opportunity for my dad’s firm, he wanted me to check it out and James already lived close enough to here”

Of course, still doing your family’s bidding when we both know you hate it, Remus had to stop himself from saying. Instead, he settled on a nod and took a sip of the drink in his hand.

“What about you?” He asked timidly.

Remus wasn’t used to Sirius being timid. Sirius had always been loud, demanding attention and boisterous. Maybe it was the party or maybe it was seeing Remus after so long that knocked the wind out of him just like it did to Remus. Hence why he was acting like a bit of a dick.

“Lily and I both wanted out”

That was all there was to it. Lily and Remus had been best friends and grew up together in a small town just off the coast of England. It horribly small minded and suffocating. It only got worse when Remus came out. Lily wanted to go to New York to get away from her sister and start a small bakery. For Remus, she was the ideal ticket out of there. He had been hesitant at first, up until he tried to speak to his father for more than ten minutes at a time. Then he was certain he had to leave. His mum wouldn’t have wanted him to stay if he was unhappy and if Lyall couldn’t get his shit together without him, well that wasn’t his problem anymore.

“I don’t blame you” came Sirius’ answer. “Compared to that shithole, New York is a breath of fresh air”

Remus chuckled at that, mood lightening. Was it the alcohol or was it him actually missing Sirius? He’d blame it on the alcohol.

“How is Lily?”

“She’s good, snogging some bloke right now I think” Remus shrugged.

“Good for her” Sirius nodded and Remus swore he could see the other glance down at his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Remus knew he was asking a very dangerous question but his drunken mind pushed for it.

Clearly, Sirius was drunk enough to look at Remus and smile and as he said, “kissing you”

“Then do it”

Remus said this without thinking of the consequences. A very un-Remus thing to do.

Sirius obeyed though, stepping closer and closing the distance between them. Remus forgot what it was like to kiss Sirius. He could taste the alcohol, and the same cigarettes as when they were teenagers. The new taste was coffee, a welcome addition to what Remus already knew and remembered.

He suddenly wondered if anything else was the same. Throwing caution to the wind, Remus gently bit down on Sirius’ lip and in turn, Sirius parted his lips. This allowed Remus to slip his tongue in, his brain short circuiting again.

He pulled away breathless and Sirius grabbed his hand. “Let’s get out of here”

Remus let himself be dragged away from the corner and outside. He didn’t bother asking where until Sirius started hailing a cab. That’s when the alarms bells sounded.

“No! let’s- no not the cab... I’ll- I’ll get sick” This was of course a lie. Remus knew this and if Sirius remembered how good Remus’ drinking health was, then he knew it was a lie too. He didn’t say anything though. Maybe it was the panic in his fear-stricken eyes that made Sirius back down.

Remus felt stupid, not wanting to take the cab but it made perfect sense in his head. One late night coming home from work, he had taken a cab and got in a terrible accident. An accident that left violent scars all over his right side. An accident that made him quit his job and not want to get into a car ever again.

Despite all this, Sirius, bloody Sirius who was always so understanding even while drunk, squeezed Remus’ hand and started walking.

Remus decided he didn’t feel bad for not taking the cab. It wasn’t a long walk to where Sirius was currently staying. It was a nice, fancy and very expensive hotel. He instantly felt out of place.

Sirius didn’t seem to notice though. He also didn’t notice the receptionist giving him a funny look. A look which Remus knew too well and made him feel more than a little insecure. If it wasn’t for the alcohol coursing through his system, he would’ve gone home.

Fortunately, Remus didn’t get the chance to dwell of any of this simply because the second they were in the lift, Sirius was pressing him against the wall. All the kissing made Remus feel a bit dizzy. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been in relationships or had one night stands after Sirius. It was more the fact that it was Sirius.

Somehow (Remus can’t recall the details) they ended up in Sirius’ hotel room. Remus would later regret the events that took place that night for a while.

The next morning, Remus woke up naked and hungry. Not a great combination. He felt a hand draped over his waist, pulling him closer.

“Morning” Came Sirius’ sleepy voice.

Shit

Remus pushed Sirius away, establishing a small distance between them. He was about to go for his phone when it started ringing, this caused Sirius to groan and cover his ears.

Remus pick up, it was Lily. “Hi? what’s up?”

“Remus John Lupin”

“That’s my name?”

“Tonight was my turn”

Right. This meant that she didn’t have the keys to their apartment and that Remus did.

“Sorry”

“Just come home, quickly? You’ll never guess who i slept with last night”

“I’m intrigued”

“Then hurry up! I’m going to be catch pneumonia”

“Alright how does i’m-sorry-for-leaving-you-out-in-the-cold-coffee sound?”

“I suppose I could forgive you” Remus could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Give me a few minutes, I’m on my way”

“Be safe, love you”

“Love you too”

When Remus hung up and looked over at Sirius, his brain short circuited for the third time since they’d met last night. Sirius Black was beautiful in the morning, he was breathtaking every time of day but he was especially beautiful in the mornings. With his shoulder length black hair, sharp cheekbones, pale skin and grey eyes, he always looked melancholy. Even when he was smiling. Remus supposed there was a sort of tragic look about Sirius that drew a lot of people in. It didn’t help that Remus’ favourite colour used to be grey.

“Who was it?” Sirius’ voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Lily. I should- I really have to go” When Remus said this, Sirius’ face fell.

“Can I drive you home?”

Remus climbed out of bed and stopped, he was in the middle of pulling his jeans back on. “No, it’s not too far, I’ll walk”

Sirius started getting out of bed too. “At least let me walk you then” He walked over to the suitcase and pulled out his own clothes, getting dressed as well.

“Fine but I have to stop for coffee” Remus replied, not being able to come up with a good enough excuse to ditch him. He finished buttoning up his shirt and pulled the sweater he wore last night over his head. It smelled like bad beer and cheap vodka. He was in desperate need of a shower the second he got home.

They walked in silence, from the room to the lift and outside in complete silence until Sirius spoke up again. “How are you?” he asked.

Remus looked at him, a frown quickly taking over his features. He remembered the sincere tone and genuine look in Sirius’ eyes from the time his mum passed away, sometime in fifth year. “You don’t get to ask that”

“Oh... I’m sorry”

“I know you are”

“You’re different” Sirius said, sounding a little uncertain.

“People are allowed to change Sirius” Remus’ tone was cold. He was in no mood for this, he just wanted to get the coffee and get home as quickly as possible.

Sirius soldiered on, as if Remus hadn’t said a thing. “You’re taller.... your hair is longer and curlier, you have plasters all over your fingers and scars, the scars are new”

Remus’ shoulders tensed at that. Who was Sirius to be saying all these things? And more importantly, why was he saying all this. It’s not like Remus didn’t know that he changed since they were 17. It had been years.

“Am I allowed to ask about the scars?”

“I got into an accident”

“How bad was it?”

“No, you’re not allowed to ask that”

“Right” It was clear Sirius was grasping at straws at this point, anything to keep the conversation going. “The plasters?”

“I work in a bakery”

“As if that explains it” Sirius huffed, a lot more Sirius-like than whatever he was like before. That was the Sirius he remembered. “What about me?

“What about you?”

“Have I changed?”

Remus thought for a moment. He wanted to say no, everything about Sirius was the same; he looked the same and his clothes were also the same. Another thing that didn’t change was him clearly being under his parents’ thumb. Yet, there was something about Sirius that was very un-Sirius and Remus couldn’t place what.

“No” He replied, ducking into a coffee shop to avoid the conversation from progressing further.

After buying three coffees, the two men were off again. They walked in silence for about five seconds before Sirius spoke up again.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I don’t know what you mean” Lie. Remus knew exactly what he meant but he refused to acknowledge it. Besides, the walk was starting to do a number on his hip and he had to slow down.

Sirius frowned at him. “Being all.....” he gestured vaguely with his hands, he had never been good with words, despite going to a private boarding school (he and Lily were scholarship students). Remus thought it was ironic, you’d think someone that rich would be at least a little more eloquent.

“You’re being distant”

“No offense but I’m not usually all cuddly and sweet with one night stands, I’m sorry”

Unfortunately it seemed that Sirius had taken offense to being called just a one night stand because he took a sip of his coffee and stuff a hand in his jacket.

“Asshole” Sirius mumbled.

“Sure, I’m the asshole”

Hurt flashed across Sirius’ face. “That’s not fair”

“I didnt say it was”

Sirius scowled even further and Remus just smiled. “I’m trying to be nice, I don’t get why you’re still being so mean”

Remus looked down, suddenly feeling really bad. “Sorry”

“Can we just talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about” Remus sighed. “You haven’t changed, your parents still dictate your life and by the looks of it, you’ve stopped rebelling”

Now it’s Sirius’ turn to look down. Remus had his a sore spot, that much was clear.

Neither said anything for the rest of the walk, until Remus started limping enough for Sirius to notice.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled his pretty grey eyes.

“I told you- the accident... it’s not too far now, I’ll be okay”

Sirius looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything else. He was probably too scared that Remus would snap at him again.

The silence resumed til they saw Lily, who ran up and pulled Remus into a death grip hug when she saw him, causing him to nearly drop the two coffees he was holding.

“What took so long?” She let go of him, studying his face, “don’t tell me you walked all the way here, you dolt”

“That would be lying though” Remus quipped with a smile.

Lily shook her head. “Idiot” she muttered, taking the coffee cups from Remus as he fished out the keys to let them inside.

Lily’s gaze travelled between Sirius and Remus, silently giving Remus the ‘oh god you slept with him didn’t you’ look. “I’ll go on ahead”

Once Lily disappeared upstairs, Sirius opened his mouth to say something but Remus stopped him with a hand in the air.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” He asked, not sure if he was going to regret this later or not.

Sirius nodded, “Yeah, yeah... if that’s okay with you”

Remus held the door open. He could give this a chance, maybe it wouldn’t end as bad as it did when they were 17. He had changed and maybe, somewhere deeper so had Sirius. For once, Remus let himself hope.

“You wanna know why I stopped rebelling?”

Remus hummed in response.

“I didn’t have anything left to fight for, now I might” with small smile he ducked into the apartment building.

Remus followed in after a moment. Thinking about how this could be finally something good. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him as much as he thought it did. Maybe the universe was trying to shove him in the right direction again.

[themusicplayedherlife]

To Love is the Greatest Gift

1. The Return

pairing: obi wan kenobi x f!reader (past!din djarn x f!reader) characters: f!reader, anakin amidala-skywalker, padmé amidala-skywalker, mentiones of din djarin, obi wan kenobi, others word count: 2.6k+ warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of rent: the musical (death, second chances) uh... I think that’s it? summary: au!it’s never been the right timing for you and obi wan kenobi; maybe this time will be different. a/n: i started working on this story so long ago it’s ridiculous, but I suddenly had a surge of motivation to continue this story after some tragic family news. this was also very much inspired by @martlands and their amazing obi wan stories, made me want to write my own and here it is

all || next

“You broke up?”

One would think that the immediate reaction to someone asking if you broke up with your significant other would be to cry or begin to ask them what could have possibly gone wrong. But that’s not the reaction you give. 

The reaction you give is just a shrug and a strong pop, as you spoon more gelato onto the little spoon his twins love collecting. “Yep.”

“After only three weeks of dating?” Anakin doesn’t know why he’s surprised, but he is. This is probably the shortest living relationship you’ve ever had. “Why?”

“Why not?” you answer easily, nonchalantly and you know it frustrates him. “It wasn’t working out, so we decided to call it quits.”

Not even a month ago, you had been genuinely excited about finally getting out there and meeting someone new, and even more excited when you were telling him all about this person you met while out with some old friends. You had said, word for word, “he might be the perfect contender!”

Where did all that excitement go?

You sigh, finally looking up at him and away from your white chocolate gelato that's just to die for. “Ani, it’s fine. It just didn’t work out. It happens.”

He grimaces. “What happened between you and Din—“

You bristle at the mention of your ex, narrowing your eyes and his widen in defense. You know what Anakin and Padmé think of him and it’s not entirely pleasant (particularly from Anakin’s part). It’s completely unfair. Din is lovely, sure a little socially awkward, but lovely nonetheless. “Has nothing to do with why Gar and I ended things.”

“But—“

“Nothing,” you reiterate with a bit more force and he sighs, lifting his hands in defeat while holding his own cup of gelato.

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.” And then, like a light switching, he turns playful. “Was it his name that turned you off—Gar?”

You resist the urge to groan and roll your eyes. “Oh maker, you are annoying!”

You huff as you make the trek back to the trolley that’ll take you both up to the observatory. The rest of your conversation is forgotten as he navigates it towards continuing to tease you and the latest exhibit you had helped set up.

The Coruscant Observatory is one of the most popular attractions in the city aside from the Exotic Animal Sanctuary (where most zoologist work to help rehabilitate wild animals before reintroducing them back into the wild, only housing the ones that have been assessed to not be able to function in the wild on their own—which are unfortunately many).

Your place of work is known for its large, ground telescope; its monthly constellation exhibits; the multiple planetarium theater rooms that house lectures, activities, star projections, etc.; and its Astronomer Q&A program where visitors can ask astronomers questions and even get a tour of the space station.

However, most of your days are spent in your office, planning for the next exhibit or actually executing them with your team; meanwhile, Anakin spends them in tech, sometimes maintaining the telescope, other times helping with IT issues, but mostly making sure the theater rooms worked perfectly for their 4D immersion.

(You like to joke that out of the two of you, he has it easiest; sometimes he’ll run by your office to get to another part of the building while you’re doing something and you’ll yell out, “slacker” and he’ll respond with, “you just work too much”.)

“Are Padmé and the twins stopping by today?”

“Not today, maybe tomorrow,” he says as you both step out of the trolley along with a few tourists. “I think today they decided to stay for some school thing.”

“Shouldn’t you know what that school thing is?” you chide him out of jest.

He scowls, there’s hardly any heat in it and it makes you grin. “It’s a music performance that the CN Theater is putting on.”

“Ah, and we all know how much musicals bores you.”

“I just don’t understand them,” he murmurs defensively as you climb the few steps leading to the entrance. The two of you smiling and greeting Rex at his security post and bypassing the ticket gate with your IDs.

“You mean you don’t have any taste,” you tease.

“It’s weird! I mean, most of them are all about tragedies and betrayals. What happened to the good ol’ romance and happy endings?”

“Not all of them are tragedies, Casanova.”

The main rotunda lobby is full of people milling about, looking at maps or the foucault pendulum in the middle of the room. Low chatter fills the room, shoes clicking and clacking against the marble flooring.

“Name one.”

Spotting the trash can and recycle bin, Anakin holds his hand out for your disposable cup and spoon and throws them away in their proper bin.

“Rent.” There are probably better examples, but you had been listening to the original cast album the night before and have all the songs still stuck in your head.

“Don’t two characters die?”

“Angel and Mimi.” You nod. “But Mimi is brought back to life by Angel, and is given a second chance at life.”

“She may have been brought back to life, but that doesn’t take away from the fact she died.”

“I’m not arguing with you on that, I’m just saying the ending was hopeful—not necessarily a happy ending, but it left you thinking—maybe things can get better.”

“And that’s not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for—“

“What you and Padmé have?” you ask him as you both reach the door of your office.

He pauses, mouth opening and closing before finally rubbing the back of his head sheepishly and saying, “Yeah.”

You smile, genuine and happy for your childhood friend. Who would’ve thought that years ago when you introduced them, they’d be here years later—married and with twins. You and Anakin sure as hell didn’t. For most of your childhood, you both believed you’d live out your life on Tatooine, hang with the same friends you’ve known since your pre-kinder days and eventually get married to each other—much to the dismay of your parents—because of benefits or whatever, until your parents decided they wanted to send you off to a private school in one of the major cities, derailing your and Anakin’s plan (for the better, if you’re being honest).

“You’re still coming over for dinner, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer, unlocking your office door with your key. “I have a meeting that might go over the expected time, but I should be able to make it on time.”

“Just let us know,” he says, rapping his knuckles against the door frame. “But you better be there! We have some planning to do!”

You roll your eyes and wave him away, promising he and his family will definitely see you at five. With a hearty chuckle he salutes you and leaves the door slightly ajar, just like you usually do. It’s your “you can come in to ask me questions, but knock first, please” visual telling.

With a soft exhale, you drop yourself into your creaking office chair, eyes landing on the first picture on your right—a younger you, only 18, fresh out of your uniform smiling wildly with a large bouquet of flowers that you can still distinctly remember the smell of.

“I am in love!” Padmé exclaimed, squealing in absolute delight at the flowers put in your hand.

Blue eyes crinkled with amusement, staring down at you. “Are you?” His voice was low, teasing and almost smug. He had obviously heard the gasp that escaped your lips when he presented you the colorful bouquet created with your favorite flowers that his father grew in their little garden.

“Irrevocably,” you answered, not able to hide your smile as you gently held it against your chest and smiled up at him. “They’re beautiful, Obi. Thank you.”

Obi Wan’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder, caught in the action of a booming laughter. He was always laughing in pictures. There isn’t a single picture you have of him that he isn't smiling.

Your finger gently trails over his smiling face. Maker, you miss him.

Is he still traveling? Or has he finally settled down again? Will he show up and spring some unexpected news on you again? Stars, you hope not. Shit didn’t go as planned last time and it probably wouldn’t again.

Your hand falls limply and you swivel in your seat, looking out the large glass window overlooking the majority of the city and sigh softly—an exhale of wary hope and sadness.

A bird soars by your window, it’s wings flapping effortlessly, diving before flying higher and away.

He’s not coming back. You know this. Coruscant just isn’t the same anymore. Not when he feels this city has taken everything from him.

One more year visiting Gui Gon without him.

The meeting runs longer than it usually would, just like you had expected. Checking the time, you let out a curse and quickly throw your belongings into your car.

Without wasting time, as soon as you switch on your engine, you place your phone on the dock and say, “Hey C-3PO, call Padmé.”

“Calling Padmé,” your phone’s AI answers through the speakers of your car.

“Are you outside?” Is how she greets you. There are loud noises in the background, children squabbling about something or another, and Anakin’s weary voice trying to rally them. 

You snort, pulling out of the undergroundparking lot. “Not yet, barely got out of my meeting and am on my way.”

“Please hurry, the twins really want to see you and are dying from hunger,” she says, amusement in her voice and not at all trying to hurry you. “They might start eating Anakin soon.”

“Hey, don’t bite that!” He yells from a distance.

“Hurry, please!” you hear over the phone—Luke. “I miss you,” he says, closer now. Which you immediately reply saying you miss him too, almost cutting off the next voice.

“And I’m hungry!” Leia’s voice follows his, practically yelling into the phone.

You laugh fondly, just imagining the childish glee on their faces at your scandalized gasps and your exaggerated “me too” answers.

“Leia, no yelling,” Padmé scolds her, gentle and kind. “Softer, please.”

“Sorry,” she says. “I’m hungry,” she repeats, softer, almost a whisper.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be there,” you promise. “If not, you have my permission to start eating your dad.”

Leia and Luke break into a fit of laughter, yelling something away from the phone to Anakin, who once again lets out a loud, “Hey!”

Padmé chuckles, moving away from the voices of the children tackling their father and their play fighting. “Take your time, we’re not in any hurry to start eating. The kids had a hearty lunch and a snack after school.”

“What about you and Anakin?”

“We’re fine, don’t worry. Just get here safely and we’ll see you soon.”

You end the call with one last reassurance from her and let out a loud sigh when your car comes to a stop behind a long line of glaring red lights—traffic. You hate traffic.

You might be surrounded by blinding lights and different models of vehicles, but it leaves you alone with your thoughts, the low hum of your engine and music from your stereo drowned out by the chattering in your head. 

It’s never just one thing that you think about. It can go from one thing to another, to all of them trying to climb over eachother and be the most present: your friends; your family; the dog next door; Din and Baby; cinnamon apple cookies; the beach house in Naboo; sneaking out of the prep dormitories at 2am with Padmé keeping an eye out and Obi Wan holding his arms out for you; rose gardens and peach tea; freckles on blushing skin; drunken singing in a small living room; 21st birthdays crying in a bathroom stall; that stupid movie quote about choosing life; death; but sometimes (most occurring) it’s Obi Wan that weaves into every thought.

He’s a constant plague in your mind, has been since the first time he left Coruscant in search of himself. 

Sometimes they’re pleasant thoughts, memories kept in a nostalgic trunk that you occasionally like to sift through. Other times, they’re not so pleasant; those are the ones you constantly struggle with, try to push into the recesses of your mind and keep them under lock and key. But for some stupid, strange reason, your mind only ever remembers the bad, even when there are better things to dwell on.

“I just—I just don’t understand why you have to leave—Obi. Obi!” you practically yelled, watching him move around his room, grabbing and throwing things he pulled out into his duffel bag. “Listen to me!” 

He didn’t stop, not until you reached for his duffel bag and plucked it out from his hands. He stared at you, his duffel bag carelessly thrown to the floor with his clothes spilling out. 

Your breathing was labored, a sick feeling swimming in your stomach, words stuck in your throat now that he wasn’t hiding his beautiful blue eyes from you—his devastatingly heartbroken eyes. “I have to,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I need to leave. This house—this city, it's suffocating me. I can’t—I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Obi… Obi, please.” You can’t leave me. You can’t! Please! Please, Obi.

“I need to do this for me, darling. I’m sorry.”

You should’ve fought harder that night, should’ve convinced him to stay, but instead you helped him pack again with tears obstructing your view and sobs escaping your lips. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have lost him.

No, your breath stutters as you lean back into your car seat, there was nothing you could’ve done. Either times. He had made up his mind long before that night.

A car honks their horn to your left and you jump, eyes focusing once more on the red lights of the car in front of you. You wipe at your face harshly and straighten your spine. 

That was years ago, little one. Shake it off. 

Sighing softly, you look up at the street name and make a turn onto the Skywalker residence street, your shoulders relaxing when their two story home comes into view.  

Shake it off.

Parking isn't easy to find in their neighborhood, not when it’s so close to the observatory and some of the most visited parks in the area, but you manage to find one just two cars away from their house. 

Gathering your things, you lock the door behind you and quickly make your way down the sidewalk, phone in your hand and typing out a message that you’re here.

It’s while you’re hitting send that you don’t notice the body in front of you, staring up at the house with an almost wary expression on his face, or how his eyes widen when they see you. It’s not until you collide into his body, soft with a fleece cardigan, that you notice him. Embarrassment begins to boil in your blood as you quickly apologize to him, berating yourself for not being more aware of your surroundings.

“Kriff, I’m so sorry—“ you start, but the apology catches in your throat when you look up.

“Hello, there.” Blue eyes, so soft and kind, like the ones you once used to dream of stare back at you—so unlike the pair of eyes you saw years ago. “It’s been a long time, darling.”

You can’t shake him off.

next

[pies-writes-and-more]

A French Kiss

Word Count: 7, 947

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: No warnings! Just some super cute fluff :) 

A/N: Dedicating this work to the lovely @wxstedhexrt​​!!!! Ps. Destiny if you thought i wasn’t going to dedicate this fic to you, you’re crazy lol. Thank you so much for being such a cute part of my writing process😉😘

(Not my gfif, creds to the original creator!!)

Y/N held her phone tightly to her chest, eyes scanning the crowd. Too old. Too young. Eh, maybe? Not that one. Maybe that one? Shit no, has a girlfriend. Has kids. Ugh.

“You’re not actually going to do this are you?” Wanda asked, taking a sip from the iced coffee she had bought earlier. She watched as her friend nervously shifted her weight, staring at different men who were around them.

“Of course I am. I need to do this.” Y/N’s hands were shaking a little. Here she was, at an amazing photo opportunity in front of the Eiffel Tower, and she wasn’t even looking at it. She could only imagine how stupid she looked to everyone else.

Nat sighed from her spot on the ground. She had known this was going to take a while so she had laid out her rain jacket on the ground and sat down, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. “Just pick someone. Anyone.”

“I can’t just pick, Natasha,” Y/N huffed, hands on her hips as she turned to look at her friend. “I need someone who is far better looking than Jake could ever dream to be. Not to mention I need to make sure he’s not married or with his family or with his girlfriend because I can’t imagine how awkward that would be-”

“What about him?” Wanda spoke up, nodding forward.

Y/N followed her gaze to a group of guys gathered around a nearby bench, laughing and smiling together. Y/N couldn’t be sure which guy Wanda was referring to but her eyes immediately fell on the blond guy who was writing? maybe sketching? into a small notebook. They were loud enough for Y/N to catch glimpses of their conversation, making a small smile pull at her lips.

“God this is going to take forever. Why didn’t you just take a photo?” The long dark-haired one whined, popping a snack into his mouth.

“The more you whine, the longer I’m going to take,” Y/N heard the blond say. She bit her lip, finally turning to Wanda and shaking her head.

“No way, he’s busy.” Y/N tried to seem casual, as if this wasn’t the first guy that she felt like she was drooling over. He had such a great physique, and that quiet concentrated look on her face made her swoon. What kind of guy like that would be single anyways?

“Oh come on, what you’re asking for takes like two seconds. Just go ask!” Wanda insisted but Y/N just made whining noises in response.

“God, no. I can’t do this. This is too embarrassing. Forget this. Forget Jake. Let’s just take a group photo and get this over with.” Y/N fumbled with her phone quickly, getting ready to just take a selfie with her girls.

“Nuh uh. I did not just get comfortable here on this foreign floor for you to chicken out of what you’ve been planning on doing the whole trip here.” Nat insisted, sighing but getting up anyways. Instead of posing for the selfie, she grabbed her things off the ground and then tightly wound her fingers around Y/N’s wrist, dragging her over to the group of guys.

“Hi there! I’m Wanda, this is Nat and Y/N!” Wanda spoke up to them first, having skipped along Nat and Y/N (who was still protesting and pulling at Nat’s strong grip).

The guys stared at the girls for a moment, all three of them sharing a look before looking back at them. “Hey there. I’m Sam. That’s Bucky and Steve,” the one guy grinned, nodding towards his friends. His smile was lined with amusement, obviously trying to not laugh at how distressed Y/N looked. “You being kidnapped or something?”

“Please, if they wanted to kidnap me, no one would’ve noticed.” Y/N huffed but gave him a sheepish smile.

“What can we do for you, ladies?” The long dark-haired one, whom Sam introduced as Bucky, asked. His smile was sort of cocky looking, very cheeky, Y/N noticed. She tried to look anywhere but at the blond, who seemed to be eyeing her.

Nat nudged Y/N forward, raising an eyebrow at her like she was saying Go ahead. “Um.” Y/N bit down on her lip, glancing back at the Eiffel Tower. Maybe she could lie. Maybe she could just ask them to take a picture of her and the girls and it would be over lickety-split.

“Y/N needs to be kissed.” Nat stated simply, noting the hesitation in her friend. The bluntness in her tone shocked everyone but Wanda who just snickered beside her.

“Nat!” Y/N whined, eyes going wide as she glared at her friend. “That’s not- that’s not the whole story! You… It sounds weird if you say it like that!”

“Well then, you tell them the story.” Nat shrugged. She placed her jacket back down on the ground, sitting back down and looking up at her friend, as if becoming part of the audience for the story she knew all too well.

Y/N sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could just disappear. “Uh.” Her eyes opened and they immediately locked onto Steve’s beautiful blue eyes. God he was gorgeous. A guy like that would make Jake insanely jealous. “I got… I got dumped by my boyfriend a few weeks ago.” She started, immediately realizing how pitiful that sounded.

“Actually, you dumped him. He cheated on you.” Wanda interjected as she squeezed onto the bench beside Steve. She gave him a smile as he shifted to make room for her. “But continue.”

All of the guys gave her empathetic smiles, but stayed quiet as if to urge her to keep going. Y/N wished her life wasn’t as tragic as this story sounded.

“Fine. Jake cheated on me. With a girl he’d been friends with for a while. But that’s besides the point. Kinda. I mean it’s the whole point of why we’re here and asking but it’s still besides the point,” she rambled nervously. Wanda rolled her eyes and stretched out her leg, kicking the girl in her shin and making her yelp. “Hey!”

“Come on girl, get to the point. I’m sure these guys have other things they need to do today.” Wanda teased, making Nat snicker.

“No no, please continue. If it leads up to a kiss, I’d much rather hear the full story,” Bucky grinned, making Y/N’s face feel hot. He gave her a playful wink and Steve reached over to hit him over the head.

“Let her finish her story, Buck,” Steve glared, looking back at her with a small smile.

Y/N smiled back nervously, chewing on the inside of her cheek, “W-Well. I just… Paris was supposed to be the place that me and my ex were going to go. We always talked about it. So now that I’m here…” her voice drifted for a bit and she glanced back at the Tower once more.

“Ooooh.” Sam chuckled, his dark brown eyes sparkling as he put two and two together. “You’re looking to make that son of a bitch jealous. Find a cute guy to take a picture with in front of the Eiffel Tower, make him regret what he did to you, amiright?”

Y/N blushed further but nodded. He had hit the nail right on its head.

“Honestly, you probably could’ve just asked us to kiss you and we would’ve said yes,” Bucky laughed, clapping a hand onto the shoulder of the blond guy, who Y/N noticed seemed to have tucked his notebook away. “Except for Steve here. He’s a proper old school gentleman.”

“Buck,” Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose slightly. “Can you go like five seconds without embarrassing me?”

“Normally? Yes. But when there’s cute girls involved, it’s hard.” Bucky chuckled and turned to Y/N, “Well sorry your ex was an asshole. But on the plus side, you’ve got your pick of us three. Any of us you’d prefer?”

Y/N wanted nothing more but to faint. Here she was, actually doing the thing she wanted to do, with insanely handsome men who actually wanted to help, but it was all too much. She was overwhelmed with anxiety, her heart was pumping so fast she wasn’t sure she could actually form a complete sentence. It would be mortifying to say that she was already falling for Steve, even though she literally just met him.

“Cool it, Bucky, you’re making the poor girl sweat,” Sam smacked Bucky’s arm, who just turned to smack him back. “Just let her breathe, sheesh.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to Steve, who also seemed to be blushing a little. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was just embarrassed over his friends? Y/N could relate to that.

“Actually, Y/N’s got a think for blonds!” Nat piped up, only looking up from her phone to smirk at her friend.

“Oh that’s rightttt. Especially when they’re artists. You were sketching a little earlier, weren’t you? Steve, was it?” Wanda asked, nudging Steve slightly. She wiggled her eyebrows at him making both Y/N and Steve squirm shyly.

That’s it. Y/N was surely going to die. She looked up to the sky momentarily, wondering if Zeus would smite her just to help a girl out.

“Ooooh well lucky for you, our blond artist is a hopeless romantic still looking for love,” Sam chuckled. “He’s the complete package, so please take him so we don’t have to.”

Steve shot him a glare, moving his gaze back to Y/N and giving her that same sweet empathetic smile. She felt her stomach flip a little, quickly staring at the floor instead. God, if she couldn’t even look at him without feeling butterflies, would she really be able to kiss him?

“Okay enough eye fucking, you two.” Nat spoke up casually. “Wanda, go take their photo before they end up having babies.”

“Nat!” Y/N was going to kill her for that later but Nat, Wanda, and Steve’s friends laughed it away. Steve blushed a little more, standing up and brushing off the eraser dust from his pants. Y/N couldn’t help but feel small next to him. Not because of his height, but he just had this aura. A strong, protective aura.

He took her hand gently and Y/N bit her lip at the feeling of his callouses. Her mind went to all sorts of places, wondering how such a gentle man had such a hard outer shell. “We really don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. It’s a really stupid idea anyways, I don’t even know if he’ll see it.” She rambled nervously as the two of them walked to a good picture spot, Wanda and the others behind them.

“He’ll see it.” Steve stated firmly with a smile to her. “If I lost a girl like you, I’d be checking all your social media to see if you missed me too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed again, staring at the ground nervously, “Yeah well, I can’t be all that great if he found someone else while he was with me.”

Wanda positioned them in a spot with good lighting, Steve turning to face Y/N as Wanda got her camera ready, “You ever been to an art museum? And some asshole just blows right by a piece of art, acting like there isn’t emotions poured into it, like there isn’t something deeper in it? Sometimes art isn’t appreciated the way it should be. Just gotta find that one guy who’s going to be speechless every time he sees you.”

Y/N looked up at him with wide eyes. How did this man go from blushing, awkward, and quiet to smooth and flirty? She couldn’t help but giggle as she raised an eyebrow, “You always talk like this? Or is it just the influence of the City of Love?” She teased, feeling a sudden ease in talking to him. He felt so comfortable now, when it was just the two of them a little ways away from their playful friends.

“I dunno, doll. I’m in a city filled with some of the greatest pieces of art, and right now I’d much rather be here. Looking at you.” He teased back with a smirk. He saw her face glow a little more and he reached out to brush her hair from her eyes.

Although Y/N’s face felt hot, a cool breeze pushed past. She pulled her arms to her chest, rubbing her arms gently, “Are you just saying all these because you pity me?” She asked with a small smile. “I’m okay you know. About the whole… getting cheated on ex boyfriend thing.”

Steve watched her for a moment and stepped back a little to pull his blue sweater over his head. Y/N tried not to let her eyes stare but it was hard not to notice the muscles hiding under his white undershirt as he stripped. “Here. You must be cold.”

Y/N flushed a little, stammering out some sounds as he helped her ease the large sweater over her head.

“And no. I’m not lying about all this. You really are beautiful, Y/N,” he leaned forward, whispering it into her ear. “I’m sorry that jackass hurt you… but I can’t say I’m all that sorry that I’m standing here with the opportunity to kiss you.” Steve’s fingers found their way under her chin, tilting it up gently.

Y/N almost forgot what they were doing here. Her brain suddenly went, Jake who?She already felt like she was hyperventilating with Steve’s poetry-like words and chick-flick worthy speech. The moment Steve’s lips touched hers, her whole mind melted. His lips were soft and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the comparison to his rough hands. All the love songs, the poems, the movies… they all talked about that one kiss and suddenly, they all made sense. After a moment, Steve pulled away slightly but Y/N quickly filled the gap, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him back.

When the fogginess of her mind disappeared and the two of them finally took a turn to breathe, their eyes locked momentarily. Y/N could’ve sworn she heard a “wow” escape from Steve’s lips.

Whoops and hollers from their friends were quickly becoming louder as the two of them returned to Earth from their makeout high.

“Damn Steve, you kiss all girls like that?” Wanda teased, having snapped numerous photos of the kiss, not to mention a ton of the cute interaction that happened before. She and Nat shared a laugh, knowing Y/N was going to love the cute picture of Steve stripping next to the picture of her standing in his sweater.

“What girls?” Sam snickered, him and Bucky high-fiving. “Steve’s a completely mess around most girls.”

Steve let out a groan as he shot a death glare to Sam. “Can you… I’m trying to be… ugh!” He huffed, flustered with both embarrassment and frustration, especially as he heard Y/N giggling next to him. Here he was, overwhelmed with endorphins from having kissed the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and his friends can’t stop making him out to be an anxious nervous wreck. He was an anxious nervous wreck around girls but this girl didn’t have to know that!

The four friends laughed nearby as they all got to know each other a little more, teasing the slightly awkward ‘couple’ as they stood there, unsure of what to do now.

“Y-You don’t have a girlfriend or anything to get back to do you?” Y/N asked as she blinked at him, realizing she hadn’t even asked him before.

Steve shook his head quickly, cheeks turning pink as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Naw, I haven’t had much luck in the love department for a while.” He admitted, mentally slapping himself as the words left his lips. Why is he telling her this??? He had been so careful in choosing his words before, wanting to make the whole interaction feel as romantic as possible. After all, this girl deserved to be swooned.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how nervous he seemed. Before he kissed her, he was all smooth and suave, but he also seemed so soft and awkward.

Right now, Steve was looking like he was battling a war in his head. He shifted on his feet, watching her nervously, “Was… was it okay?” He blurted out, biting down on his lip as he watched her expression. “The kiss, I mean?”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to tell him. How could she put into words the way that his lips literally made her feel like she was floating? How could she tell this man, a man she would probably never see again, that he was like a drug and she was already addicted? Here he was, a stranger, and Y/N was falling in fucking love with him when she had only done this to get back at her stupid ex boyfriend?

“I-It was…” She hesitated, looking for a good word. “Perfect.” The word slipped from Y/N’s lips faster than she could comprehend it. The two of them shared another blush, an awkward silence falling on them.

“Hey Rogers, if you’re done fonduing, we gotta meet with Tony and Rhodey! Got that dinner reservation Tony’s been talking about!” Bucky yelled over. Steve’s heart fell a little and he looked over at Y/N, only to find the same slight downcast expression on her face.

“Thank you… for your help,” she smiled up at him. Steve tried to capture the image in his mine, the sight of her smile, gleaming in the sun behind them. This was the sight Steve wanted to die looking at.

“A-Anytime,” he quickly stammered, realizing that he was staring at her.

“Steve!” Bucky yelled again, glancing between his friend and the watch on his wrist. “If we’re late, Tony’s gonna kill us!”

Steve groaned a little, rolling his eyes at the sound of his best friend. “I should go.” He sighed, looking at her just once more. He leaned over and brushed her hair from her face, bending over to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Have a great time in Paris, doll.” He murmured to her before rushing over to Bucky’s side.

The boys left, Sam and Bucky teasing him endlessly and loudly, drawing the attention of many people nearby. Y/N’s cheeks were still flushed as she slowly walked over to her friends, their grins as wide as their faces.

“Soooo. Steveeee.” Wanda sang with a giggle. “He’s much cuter than Jake.”

“He’s much cuter than any guy you’ve dated,” Nat corrected with a smirk. “You’re welcome. When you guys get married, I hope that you’ll thank me in your wedding vows.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile, shaking her head. “I’m never going to see him again, you goose.”

Wanda and Nat’s wide eyes made Y/N feel like she had grown a second head. “W-What?” She frowned, feeling a little self-conscious with them looking at her.

“Um hello? You just shared the hottest kiss with a man in the most romantic spot in the world and you’re not planning on seeing him again?” Wanda asked, hands on her hips.

“How would I?” Y/N frowned slightly, giving a shrug.

Nat stared at her exasperatedly, “You didn’t give him your number?! What about your instagram? So he could be tagged in the photos?”

Y/N shrugged again, blushing now as she realized how much she now wanted to give him that info. “He didn’t ask for it,” she gave as an excuse, only worsening her slight pain. Her mind wondered for a moment about why... why hadn’t he asked for it?

“Wait, but you’re still wearing his sweater,” Wanda gaped, eyes wide.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked down to indeed find his blue sweater fitted on her body. “Shit!” She screeched, running towards the direction the boys had headed. Her eyes darted between groups, trying to find a sign of either one of the boys she had met. But she had no clue where they were headed, she didn’t even know what restaurant they were going to.

“Fuck...” she mumbled. A little piece of hope that had flickered in her heart died, realizing that she had lost her chance to connect with the one guy who made all the love songs make sense.

Y/N wore the sweater all night long, admittedly because she loved the smell of him on it. She could feel her heart grow a little, her chest tighten, her lips tingle, ever time she inhaled it again. God he smelled so good. But she also wore the sweater because she had hoped that whilst they were roaming around Paris’ nightlife, he would see her.

“Aw baby girl, chin up,” Wanda cooed gently, touching her arm as they got back to their hotel room. “Maybe you’ll see him again!”

“Where?” Y/N moped, sitting on her bed. “I had my chance and I totally messed it up.”

Nat and Wanda tried to stay positive for her but they all knew the chances of running into the boys again were slim. Y/N kicked herself mentally as she started getting dressed for bed for not at least asking him where he was from. Sure, he had an American accent but there was 50 states! What if he was Canadian? American and Canadian accents weren’t all that different were they? That means 50 states PLUS 13 provinces/territories in Canada… The thought pulled a sigh from Y/N’s lips. Even if she did manage to find him, there was no telling he’d actually want to see her again.

Y/N folded up the sweater gently, sighing as she pressed it flat into her suitcase. But as she did, her hand pushed against something harder than a bunch of fabric should be. Curious, Y/N reached into the large sweater pocket and pulled out a small notebook. Her eyes widened as she realized it was the booklet that Steve had been sketching in earlier.

Great, not only did I steal this man’s sweater, I stole his art too, Y/N thought to herself. She bit her lip as she sat down on the floor, carefully opening up the notebook, as if it might break if she were too harsh with it.

The first page made her laugh a little. It was Bucky and Sam, fast asleep on airport seats, both with their arms crossed and Sam’s mouth open a little. Y/N was surprised at just how much detail went into such a small drawing. No line was without purpose.

The next few pages looked like they were what Steve had seen out of the plane’s window, most of them having the wing in the centre and small clouds flickering around.

She thumbed through the drawings, loving each and every one of them more and more. Landscapes filled pages and Y/N felt herself get excited when she found something she recognized. It was like a little memory book of the places the boys had all gone together. She noticed two more figures in most of the drawings, figuring these were the other two that the boys were meeting up with when they left. Throughout all these drawings, at the bottom, there was Steve’s signature. In scribbled lines, she could make out S. G. Rogers. She let her thumb glide over for a moment, as if she was missing someone she knew well. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself, knowing she literally met him for not even an hour.

Y/N shook the thoughts from her head as she flipped to the next drawing. Her eyes blinked for a moment, taking in the beautiful sight of the Eiffel Tower that she had see earlier that day. He really was a talented artist, Y/N noted. Even in just sheer pencil, she could see details she probably missed in her momentary glimpses at the tourist site.

“What’s that?” Nat’s sudden voice made Y/N jump, realizing Nat had just come out of the bathroom.

“Uh Steve’s drawings… It was in the sweater.” Y/N explained shyly, handing over the book.

“Oooh more about Steve?” Wanda gasped, hopping over immediately. “Oh wow, he really is an artist huh?” She grinned, flipping through the pictures.

“So now you stole his artwork too huh?” Nat teased, making Y/N pout.

“Stop! Don’t say that! It wasn’t my fault!” Y/N huffed, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn’t help but feel a little happy that she had his notebook and sweater. It would convince her that all of this actually had been real, and not a dream, like it was starting to feel like.

----------

Steve hadn’t even realized he was missing his sweater until after dinner. The group of guys had sat back in their chairs a little, sighing at what was a great meal when Steve noticed Bucky giving him a weird look. “What’s wrong? Got something on my face?” Steve asked, nudging his friend.

“No… something’s just different.” Bucky tilted his head slightly. His eyes squinted slightly, opening again slowly as he said, “Weren’t you wearing a sweater earlier?”

Steve’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head. He immediately stood up from the table, staring out the window in the direction that he had met Y/N and the other girls. He had only meant to give her the sweater for a moment, while they were taking pictures and talking. She seemed cold, how could he not? (His mother would’ve killed him if he hadn’t… not to mention he really liked seeing her in his clothes). How had he completely forgotten to get it back?

“I bet I know where it is,” Sam snickered as he watched the confusion on Steve’s face.

“Where?” Tony asked, looking between the three.

Rhodey rolled his eyes, “Tony, catch up. There was a girl. He kissed the girl-”

“-And being the ever so lovely gentleman we know and love Steve Rogers to be, he gave her his sweater,” Sam finished with a laugh, shaking his head. “Didn’t have your wallet in there did it? Any other important things?”

Steve shook his head, glad to feel the wallet-sized lump in his jeans pocket. “No… but my sketch book…”

“Not like you can’t just draw some more,” Rhodey shrugged and grinned up at him.

“Yeah but I was hoping to bring it all back and use it for my paintings,” Steve frowned tightly, looking at the boys who had met Y/N with him. “You don’t think she’s still around there do you?”

“Come on, Steve, it’s been hours! You can’t honestly think the girl waited around for you. Just give her a text or something.” Bucky’s amused smile on his face froze as he saw the blush appearing on Steve’s face. “…You did get her number or something didn’t you? I mean, that’s the most tongue-tied I’ve seen you with a girl in a long time!”

“Oh so there was tongue. Talk about a true French Kiss,” Tony snickered, making the other boys laugh and Steve feel like he could die.

“No, Tony, there was no tongue,” Steve rolled his eyes, sitting back down slowly crossing his arms over his chest. “I… I might’ve forgotten to ask for her number…” Steve muttered, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Steve!” Sam and Bucky both yelled, both swatting at his arms from either side of him.

“How could you forget?” Sam groaned, shaking his head. “Just like you to get all flustered over a girl, and have her get all flustered over you, just for you to completely forget to make sure she could get in contact with you!”

Steve looked up, his eyes suddenly beaming with hope instead of shame, “She was getting flustered over me?” He asked curiously, letting out a groan when both Sam and Bucky swatted at his arms again.

“Idiot,” Bucky shook his head devastatingly but he smiled anyways. He wanted to let Steve mope a little more, as a consequence for being an idiot, and then later, maybe he’d show him the pictures that he and Sam had taken of Steve and Y/N.

_______

Why Natasha and Wanda were dragging Y/N out on a Friday night, she had no clue. Normally, if they were going to go out on a Friday, it would be to a club. Not to some place that had a black tie dress code.

Y/N tugged on her dress slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable all dressed up and not understanding where they were going. “Can someone please-” she started, but the two stern looks she got back from Nat and Wanda shut her up quick.

“If you ask one more time where we’re going, I’m going to knock you out. I really don’t want you to be unconscious when we get there, but don’t tempt me, Y/N,” Nat threatened with a playful smirk on her face. “Just be patient. You look fucking hot, you’ll love it.”

Y/N sighed and slunk back into the Uber seat, tapping her fingers on her knee. Here she was, hair perfectly set around her face, body fitted into a black evening gown, a touch of makeup done… she was picture perfect. But Y/N couldn’t figure out why. Wasn’t her birthday, wasn’t any sort of important date…

Y/N stared out the window as she tried to consider all the possibilities. This seemed to be the biggest event since their trip to Paris about a month ago. The small memory of Paris made her smile, thinking about all the fun the girls had had together, and of course… Steve. She hadn’t really thought about him for a while. She spent the days back home looking for a Steve Rogers online, but it was such a common name, she knew she was bound to never find him.

His sweater sat in her dresser, waiting for the day that maybe she would meet him again and he could take it back. But one month later and no such luck.

Nat and Wanda shared a look as they watched their best friend fade into her daydreaming state. They giggled together quietly, Wanda nudging her slightly. “You’re sure you’ve got the tickets?” She murmured softly and Nat nodded in response.

“Just have your camera ready. I want to capture the moment.” Nat reminded her and Wanda agreed, slipping her phone out of her small purse.

Y/N stared at the building the Uber driver pulled up to. The bright lights at the entrance made it look so regal, like it was some event that major celebrities were going to be attending. As the girls stepped out of the car, Y/N silently thanked both of them for not letting her come in the casual dress she had originally picked out for herself. Her eyes caught sight of the gorgeous evening and cocktail gowns that other women were wearing, the sleek and smooth looks of bowties and suits on the men.

Y/N almost forgot that they were here to attend whatever this was, standing completely frozen from where the car had once been.

“Come on!” Wanda laughed, grabbing her hand. “It’s an art show!”

Y/N blinked in surprise, looking at her friends with a confused look on her face. Neither one of them had really shown any interest in art before… so why were they here?

“Tickets ma’am?” The man at the front asked with a smile. Nat started to open her purse but the man held up his hand. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize you had a muse with you. Go right in, ladies.”

The girls looked at him and then at each other. Not wanting to hold up the line that was growing behind them, they started to walk in and Y/N raised an eyebrow, “Muse?”

Nat shrugged, pushing the tickets back in her purse. “Well damn, if I had known, I wouldn’t have bought these super expensive tickets,” she muttered to herself, making Wanda laugh. “What do you think he meant?”

“Um hello, you guys were the ones that dragged me down here, how should I know?” Y/N looked around as the three of them stood in the front halls of the museum. She wasn’t quite sure where they were supposed to go so she started to walk, so she started to follow a few people in front of her.

The decorations were stunning. Everything was black and white, so the colours on the mediums shot off the walls. People were walking around with trays of small horderves and other trays of champagne glasses. The girls each grabbed a glass, smiling at each other as they clicked the glasses together and took a sip. As the three of them continued to walk around, Y/N could’ve sworn that people were whispering as they passed, gawking at them.

“Is it… a private show?” Y/N whispered harshly to her friends as she noticed someone sneak a photo of them.

Nat’s eyebrows furrowed, noting the commotion she and the girls seemed to be making, and she shook her head, “No, it was a public event.”

“Ma’am, do you think I could take your photo?” A man asked with a smile, holding up his camera and press pass. “I’m doing a story on the artwork.”

Y/N had to look around for a moment, making sure that he was actually talking to her. “Sorry, I’m not… I don’t have a connection to this artwork?” She stated confusedly, stepping away and further into the exhibits with the girls.

“What the hell was that about?” Wanda mumbled, glancing back to see the man looking equally as confused.

Most of the people seemed to be in the on main section of the museum, whispers and murmurs filling the room. As Y/N and the girls walked in to see what everyone else was looking at, they were greeted with flashes of light. People with cameras yelling questions at them about how they felt about the exhibition and if she liked the pieces.

“Sorry I- I have no clue what you’re talking about-” Y/N tried to tell them, holding her hands up to protect her eyes from the multitude of flashes.

“I think I know.” Y/N turned to look at what Wanda was talking about, her jaw dropping for a moment.

There. In the middle of the room. On a large canvas, was her face.

Y/N had to take a moment, staring at the painting as if she were going to wake up from a dream any moment now. “N-Nat, what is this?” She looked over to her friend who seemed just as confused as she was.

“I didn’t think… I only saw his name,” Nat explained, her eyes wandering around.

“Whose name?” Y/N asked exasperatedly, her chest feeling tight. This room was suddenly feeling very small as she looked around. Everything else was of a landscape, gorgeous paintings of green landscapes, orange sunsets, beautiful cafe atmospheres… but this one painting was of her.

“What’s your relationship with the artist, miss?” A woman asked, holding up a voice recorder to Y/N’s face.

“S-Sorry?”

“The artist, miss. S. G. Rogers, what’s it like knowing that after being mostly known for landscapes, and other art that never has a specific muse, his new most talked about piece is the one featuring you?” The woman asked again and Y/N felt her whole body freeze.

S. G. Rogers.

Y/N stammered out an apology, rushing over to the nearest corner where the press weren’t, needing to breathe. Nat and Wanda moved with her, shooting glares at the reporters, as if daring them to follow.

She tried to focus her breathing, feeling all too overwhelmed with everything that was happening. Reporters’ voices started raising again, yelling loud questions again and Y/N winced, thinking they were coming back for more. Her eyes moved to the direction of the flashes, the sounds of the reporters, only to find a blond man standing with his back to her. He seemed awkward in front of all of them, attempting to answer questions and pose for pictures, though he didn’t really seem to want any.

“Can we get a picture of you and your muse?” A reporter asked out and all the others quieted, eagerly nodding.

The man held up an apologetic hand, moving it to rub the back of his neck, “S-She and I… well she’s not here.” He explained and more murmurs arose from the crowd.

“Isn’t that her? Standing right there?” Another reported yelped, pointing in Y/N’s direction.

She felt like a deer in headlights, the way that everyone seemed to turn on her. The man turned and sure enough… there was S. G. Rogers.

“Steve.” Y/N felt her lips breathe out, her eyes locking to those baby blue eyes.

“Surprise,” came weakly from Nat’s lips, who suddenly appeared next to Y/N. “This definitely wasn’t how I planned on it going though,” Y/N heard her mumble.

Y/N felt her brain tear into pieces over the next few seconds as she tried to make a decision. Part of her wanted to run. Run out of the museum and into fresh air, maybe that would make it easier to breathe. But she couldn’t help but think about how embarrassing that would be, for her to run and probably trip over her long dress and heels. The other part of her wanted to jump him, feel that ripple of sensations down her spine again like the last time he kissed her. Another part of her was confused and wanted to demand answers from him. Answers about why he hadn’t asked for her number if he was going to just paint her anyways!

“My lovely reporters, if you could all just take a step back for a moment. I think the lady needs a moment to breathe. You all can be very overwhelming as I’m sure you know. But I’m certain that once she has a chance to catch her surprise, perhaps Mr. Rogers and his muse will be able to stand for a few pictures later. Please, help yourself to the champagne and the food, they’re delicious-” a man spoke up, holding up a few pieces of food in his hand and plopping them into his mouth. Y/N recognized him vaguely and her mind connected his face to the simple sketches that had been in Steve’s Paris notebook.

The crowd dispersed, some hanging around close enough, as if waiting for more action between the two.

“Y/N?” Steve and the girl had barely stopped staring at each other, but the distance between them was still far. Y/N noticed Bucky walking over, as if casually walking across the room. But as he got to just behind Steve, he pushed him forward, sending Steve into a fumbling mess towards Y/N.

“S-Sorry!” Steve yelped out as he tripped over his feet, bumping into her slightly. He shot a glare at Bucky over his shoulder as he tried to compose himself but his gaze softened as it resumed on her. “Y-You’re here! How… How did you...” His cheeks were burning red. “How’re you here? How’d you find me?” He finally managed out, his hand reaching forward for hers but stopped, as if he thought better of his actions and pulled it back.

“I think Nat can answer that!” Wanda grinned from behind Y/N. “Sorry, we definitely weren’t expecting for you to have painted her and set her right in the middle of your exhibit, we probably would’ve prepped her for it if we had known-”

“We definitely would’ve prepped her,” Nat interjected with a guilty smile. “Sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N couldn’t find her voice as she studied his face. He looked the same as he did a month ago, that gorgeous nervous smile, his blond hair perfectly shaping those stunning blue eyes. She could feel her heart pounding out of her chest and was almost certain she was going to sweat all her makeup off.

“My notebook,” Steve guessed after a moment, giving the girls a small smile. He turned to Y/N with an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, I should’ve… I should’ve asked for your number or something. My mom was so upset with me that I just kissed you and left,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“You… told your mom?” Y/N squeaked out, making his cheeks turn a redder shade.

“I-I mean, I didn’t… I wasn’t going to but Bucky just blurted it out and then my mom just wanted to know more and you know, Bucky, he just keeps talking and-” Steve swallowed hard, pressing his lips together tightly as if trying to shut himself up. He looked over at Nat desperately, begging for her to start talking so he didn’t have to.

“Yes the notebook,” Nat clarified for him, smirking. “You left Y/N so lovesick she carried it around with her for a few weeks-”

“Nat!” Y/N whined, looking at her impossibly. “Really? Now? You want to embarrass me now?”

Nat laughed and patted her friend’s head, “Sorry sorry. Anyways, we saw your signature and Wanda pointed out that if you were this good at sketching, you must’ve gotten your training from somewhere. So we went looking for an S. G. Rogers and sure enough, we found that you were a part of a New Upcoming Artists Exhibit and we thought it would be a cute way for you to meet back up again.”

Cute was definitely not the words that Y/N would describe it. She was panicking inside, overthinking every single detail of what had led up to this night. She had spent the last few weeks thinking that Steve probably hadn’t wanted to get to know her anyways, or else he would’ve asked for her number or something. But here he was, telling her he should’ve and… his main piece of his exhibit was a painting of her. How was she supposed to take this? She hadn’t seen any other paintings of girls… was she the only one? What was that supposed to mean?

Wanda reached out and nudged Y/N’s shoulder, “Well you two should talk. Nat, why don’t we go and look at the rest of the exhibits?”

“Sounds brilliant,” Nat grinned and the two linked arms, giving little waves to Y/N as they disappeared.

Steve and Y/N looked at each other, both obviously unsure of what they should say. Y/N let her eyes drift to the painting in question, unable to help the blush growing on her cheeks as she admired it. Steve had painted her standing there with a bright smile on her face, as if she was smiling at the person looking at the painting. You could see the bottom of the Eiffel Tower behind her and Y/N blushed, realizing that she had taken the main spot of the artwork, rather than the Eiffel Tower like in his sketch.

“I know it must seem so creepy-” Steve stammered out nervously, clearly kicking himself for having it up as the centre of his exhibit. “I just… it was one of the few artworks that really evoked something in me and I just couldn’t let it sit in my room gathering dust-”

“It’s gorgeous, Steve,” Y/N told him with a smile. She looked up at him and almost regretted it, seeing those blue eyes again. He was so handsome and it certainly wasn’t helping that he seemed to fill out his tux so well. “You made me look really pretty.”

“I was only painting what I see, doll,” Steve chuckled. “While Wanda and Nat were taking pictures of us on their phones, Bucky and Sam had snapped a couple from theirs. I’ve been staring at them nonstop,” he admitted sheepishly. “You were all I could think about when I got back.”

Y/N was almost positive she was dreaming. She had dreamed about Steve before, sure, and he was usually doing this whole confessing attraction thing, so this had to be a dream right? She moved her hand to her arm, pinching it gently and wincing. Her eyes looked back up at him and she bit down hard on her lip. Not a dream.

“By the way,” Steve started, taking one of her hands and holding her at an arm’s length, “You look… like a work of art.”

Y/N wondered if he knew her whole body was heating up as his eyes examined the way the dress hugged her body. “S-Stop staring,” she swatted at him quickly, blushing. “We’re here to look at your art, not me.”

“I’d much rather look at you,” Steve laughed but led her for a closer view of his centrepiece of art. Y/N got so entrapped looking at it, she almost forgot the lurking press. “I’m sorry about them, by the way,” Steve leaned in and murmured to her. “Tony’s a part of a really wealthy family and his family are really into art… they’ve been really supportive of me and my works so they thought some reporters would help get my name out there.”

Y/N smiled and nodded, guessing that it was Tony then who had made the announcement to save her and Steve from the insane reporters.

“Sir, if you don’t mind-” one of the reporters spoke up, holding up his camera. They all flocked in eagerly, waiting for Steve to give the ‘ok’.

Steve looked down at Y/N with a shy smile, “You got all dressed up, doll. I’d hate to have no photos of it.”

Y/N smiled and nodded slowly, deciding that tackling these people with Steve by her side was a lot easier than doing it on her own. Steve gave a nod to the reporters, stepping in closer to Y/N for the photos. He let his hand touch the back of her waist, as if worried he would cop a feel and she would be uncomfortable.

After a while of smiling and posing, Steve made a couple of jokes with her about wishing his art got phtoographed this often, his eyes still fixated on each camera. She laughed and couldn’t help but look up at him, her gaze trying to memorize every piece of his face. Her lips tingled slightly, as if reminding her of the reason they had met in the first place.

“Steve?” She whispered with a smile.

“Mm?” Steve’s blue eyes moved to meet hers, flashes still going around them.

“I think it might make my ex-boyfriend very jealous to know that I was a muse in an art exhibition.” Y/N stated with a smile, trying to press down the giggles bubbling in her throat.

Steve let out a laugh, making Y/N’s heart skip a beat or two, “Oh yeah? You’ll have to get some of those photos then.”

“We could make him more jealous though,” Y/N hinted at, her mind racing at her sudden surge of confidence.

Steve blinked at her, a little surprised at the suggestion, “You mean-”

“Will you kiss me, Steve?” she whispered, biting down on her lip slightly. “I promise I won’t run away with your sweater and art this time.”

Steve didn’t need to be asked again. He turned to face her, his one arm wrapping around her while his other hand reached up for her chin. Y/N felt the memory of their first meet flood back to her, “You better give me your number after this. Or my mom will have a field day,” he whispered into her lips before kissing her deeply.

Steve felt all of his worries and nerves sink into that kiss, only to be filled with a sense of belonging. He barely knew the girl but Steve hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since Paris. He was so in love with this girl, he couldn’t help but feel like Fate had put them in Paris at the same time for a reason. Kissing her again in the museum, at this moment, Steve was sure of that reason.

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

I hope you guys enjoy this!! It’s probably one of my absolute favourites fics that I’ve ever written!

Masterlist

[tobi-momo]

hanahaki

Pairing: Kirishima x GN!Reader

Warnings: Hanahaki disease, blood, throwing up, choking, gagging, the whole jist.

a/n: this was super fun to make! requests are open! you can also just talk to me uwu

Myth. It's a myth. It isn't real. The petals and flowers falling from your mouth aren't real. The thorns scratching your throat and the blood spilling from your lips aren't real. It's all a myth. Then why does it feel like your heart gets ripped out of your chest each time? It was so hard not being able to tell him, not being able to seek out the comfort you needed. You just wanted him to be happy. But it hurt so badly that you couldn't be the one he was happy with. You couldn't help but feel that pain every time you crouched over the toilet, clutching the seat as if your life depended on it while you cough and gag, emptying your agony. You had come to terms that you were never going to be with him. He was your best friend, and he had someone who could make him happy. Someone that wasn't you. But as the petals make their way up your throat, choking you, making you claw at your neck as if it was an itch, you couldn't help but feel...misery. It had become a normal thing for you to ditch him to take your trip to the restroom, as you would never admit to him that you were feeling like this.  Interactions between you two would be short; you would always find an excuse to leave before you completely embarrassed yourself in front of him. He was spending more time with his girlfriend, Sayaka. They had met a couple months ago at a class trip 1-A was taking as a short and sweet vacation to relieve stress. And it did, for the most part. You and Kirishima were stuck at the hip, having sleepovers and little parties together even without the rest of your friends with you two. That was, until he met Sayaka at the mall you and the rest of the class went to for the process of blowing off steam. Ever since then he'd stopped doing everything with you, and started doing everything with her. She was your replacement. No, she was better than your replacement. He finally found someone he could be happy with, and here you are, throwing your guts up and more because you were stupid and fell in love. Even when your stomach, lungs and throat were drained, when you had nothing left to give, you tended to gag a couple extra times after; the bits of flower, irritating the back of your mouth. How the fuck did you end up here? ._._._._._._._._._._._._._._. The next day you were just as exhausted and dead inside as you were yesterday. Everyday passed with you thinking about your lost love with Kirishima. You were drained. You were weary, empty. Your skin had lost a lot of color these past few weeks, and you started to slump over when walking. Everyone around you could tell something was wrong, but no one seemed to press when you said you were fine. Even Kirishima had noticed. He was worried, to say the least, and he needed to know what was going on before you had killed yourself. He approached you as class ended with his hand scratching the back of his neck, nervous. For a short second your eyes had sparkled; you loved it when he was nervous, he always looked so cute- but you knew what he was going to ask, and you couldn't handle it. Emotionally and physically. "Hey, y/n," he chuckled dryly, obviously trying to cover up the awkwardness, "can we talk?" "Oh, uh, sure," you answer; throat dry and scratchy. You both head out of the classroom together while you mostly hope to whatever god is out there that they won't let you break in front of him. "What was it you wanted to talk about?" "Oh, just that you seem a little down lately. I wanted to know what's wrong, since you're one of my best friends, ya' know?" One of my best friends. "Oh, I'm fine, Eijirou. No need to worry." His eyes changed at your statement. He had a feeling you were lying to him, and he hated that. He couldn't help that he couldn't be with you as much anymore, he had someone else. But he also couldn't help that his closeness to you was a lot different than his closeness to others. He didn't have the same connection with Sayaka or Bakugou or Kaminari like he did with you. But you didn't know that. You thought he was forgetting about you, leaving you behind. It was like you were reaching out to him, but then he faded away at your touch. "Are you sure? I mean, I know I haven't been hanging out with you a lot recently because of my relationship with Sayaka, but I want you to know that I still care for you just as much as I did before. Nothing has changed." You knew he was being sincere with his words, but you couldn't help but doubt him while the stabbing pain in your chest was forming. Shit. You needed to get out of there soon or else- you didn't want to think about what might happen. You gently push Kirishima out of the way before you realize you are already past the bathrooms. Would you even have time to lock your door before your body betrays you and destroys itself? You didn't know, but at this point, you didn't care as you rush to your room, trying your best to lock the door, only half-succeeding, and pulling out the bucket you kept by your bed. The bucket was small, but big enough for you to stuff your head in while you coughed up your tragic love story. You had got it a couple weeks after this whole...thing...started. So having it there when you're in a hurry was really convenient. You had almost collapsed down from crouching so fast and the bucket barely tipped over from your aggression. You were a mess, for Christ's sake. How could you let it get this far? Trying to pull your hair out of the way, you could feel the thorns coming up through your throat, abrading your esophagus and climbing through the back of you mouth and leaving for the bottom of the bucket. Flower petals and leaves falling out of your mouth; you gagging and attempting to catch your breath and not choke on your blood. You didn't even hear Kirishima pounding on the door, yelling your name before he yanks the door open with a panic-y yelp as he saw you hunched over, throwing your brains up. His eyes widened at your figure. Were you sick? You would've told him, right? He rushes to your side, careful not to scare or worry you. So this is why you've been so fatigued all the time? You've just been sick? You could've told him, he would've helped you go through it. Hell, you wouldn't be sick anymore if you were getting help from him. So now he just had to be here for you, while you literally spill your guts out. He gathers your hair from around the bucket with his hands, rubbing your back and tugging your hair up to the back of your head. Wait- was that blood? His face of worry immediately changes to panic; he doesn't know what to do as he sees blood spill from your lips. What the hell was going on? As soon as that question pops up in his head, a petal fell from the brim of your mouth. Holy shit. No way. No fucking way. "Y/n? Y/n! Are you okay? What's going on? Is this what I think it is?" You couldn't tell him, could you? Could you tell him that you were hopelessly in love with a man already in a relationship with another woman? Could you tell him that you had been in love with him for a long, long time? You couldn't do that to him. You couldn't do that to your relationship. No. You just couldn't. You grab your throat in effort to stop the thorns from objecting your airway. You cough it up, watching the long stem of a flower that was long gone slide out of your mouth, and into the bucket that had saved you cleaning hours. Kirishima watched as tears streamed down your face unwillingly; he was absolutely distraught. How could he be this fucking clueless? How could he not see it sooner that you were hurting. Hurting more than he thought you were. "Y/n, it's going to be okay! I'll help you! Whoever it is!" He practically shouts at you when one of your hands come up from your neck to his chest, grasping his shirt. Fuck it, you couldn't keep it in anymore. You needed him to know. You needed him to realize that you loved him more than anything ever in this world, and you weren't going to stop. And apparently, he knew what you mean. Hearing your choked sobs as soon as the last little bits of flower left your lips you kept looking down, embarrassed and ashamed as all hell. "I," you cough, throat dry and raspy, "I'm so-sorry." "Sshh, it's okay, don't talk," he says, his smooth voice making you feel much more at ease. You look up at him slowly, being conscious of your current state and well, to put lightly, you look like a total mess. He smiles at you. His magnificent, beautiful, amazing smile, just for you, automatically makes you want to smile back. But you can't. You physically can't. Your jaw and throat are so tired, you're surprised you haven't passed out yet. You thought too soon. You went out like a light. But thankfully, you woke up in Recovery Girl's office, the bright lights blinding you and the heart monitor's beeping making your head hammer. You take a long look around the room, taking in your surroundings. The first thing you notice is the bright red, spiky hair that is obviously Kirishima's. You scan his features, taking in his beautiful, beautiful face and body. He was the most amazing person you had met. You were so thankful to be in his life, and thankful he was in yours. And even more thankful he was in Recovery Girl's office with you. You felt...better. You didn't know what it was, but you felt good. Refreshed. "I love you," you sputter. Your voice, still gross, scratchy as all hell, but you needed to say it. Even if he didn't feel the same way. He smiled, and then chuckled. It was a happy chuckle. Like, a chuckle of relieve, you figure. "I love you too." What? Your eyes grow wide in pure shock. You hadn't expected this- you hadn't expected this at all. You were freaking out. "I- you what? But you have a girlfriend, I- I mean,  there is no way you like me more than her, or even *love* me," you ramble. All Kirishima could do was stare. Stare at your beauty. "I'm n-nothing compared to her, she's perfect," you couldn't help but let out a little cry at this, admitting the fact that she was better than you. You were about to continue when you felt a hand on yours. "I don't love Sayaka. I never did. I love you. I always loved you. And I am so, so, so, so sorry that I let it get this far, this wasn't supposed to happen. But I want to make it better. Will you let me make it better?" He still smiles, but his eyebrows are furrowed, worried about your answer. You sit up, grabbing his hand tighter while reaching over to catch him in an embrace. "Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes," your voice turns into a whisper, "I love you so much, Eijirou. So much," you barely get out. His grip on you gets tighter, his arms around your back with one hand snaking through your hair. He sniffled, and by then you could tell he was crying too. "God, I was so worried about you. Don't you dare scare me like that again, okay, Pebble?" Pebble. You liked that nickname. It fit. "I won't, I promise. I won't, I won't, I won't." And from that moment on, the pain in your chest was gone.

[nancywheelxr]

For Sokka/Zuko prompt (2/?): Sokka saving Zuko after miscalculation how long he can hold his breath during the North Pole Siege

anon, like i said before, you are an angel and I hope you like this

*

Sokka is going to kill Aang.

No, seriously, he means it, the next time he sees the kid, he’s going to murder him because this is all his fault. It has to be, because there is no other explanation for this except Aang beginning to rub off on him. There really, really isn’t.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he murmurs, dragging Zuko out of the freezing water and away from the cracking ice. Honestly, the guy is heavier than he looks and Sokka bets it must be the crushing weight of all those issues. “Should’ve let you drown, asshole.”

And you know what? He stands by that. The little voice at the back of his head that sounds annoyingly like Aang be damned, Sokka should have taken one look at the jerk, incandescent hands slamming against the thick ice, too cold in the freezing water to properly melt the frozen floor, wide eyes blinking sluggishly, and, and– okay, fine. Maybe Sokka couldn’t look the other way and pretend he didn’t see him.

Still. He resents Aang for not being there to convince him to save the guy and let Sokka advocate for the drowning. You know, for argument’s sake, just ‘cause Zuko’s the freaking Fire Nation prince that’s been chasing them all the way since the South Pole and they should at least make an effort to look like they’re doing this under duress.

“Come on, we can’t stay here, wake up, jerk,” well. Sokka can’t stay here, he has a duty and also, the place will be crawling with soldiers soon, but if he leaves Zuko here, there’s no telling if he’ll make it. Do Firebenders get hypothermia? The guy looks hypothermic enough, at least.

Something explodes nearby.

Staying here any longer would be crazy. Sokka eyes Zuko consideringly. “I did my best,” he says, frowning because it sounds weak even to himself and he already knows what he’s going to do, “truly, it’s tragic. I dragged him out of the water, but there was nothing I could do. Too many Fire Nation soldiers around,” he grumbles, heaving one of Zuko’s arms around his shoulder and getting only a faint mumbling in response, “I had to leave him there.”

Just to be clear, though, Sokka is only doing this– he’s only dragging Zuko across the town in the middle of a Fire Nation invasion because he’s gone through all this trouble already to keep the asshole alive, it would be a waste to leave him for dead now. Hey, he didn’t spend five minutes slamming at the ice with his boomerang for nothing, okay?

“What were you thinking anyway?” He asks him, because the only thing worse than be dragging your nemesis around is to be dragging your nemesis around in silence. “Stupid firebender swimming around. At night! Were you trying to die?”

Another mumble. At least that’s better than the wheezing sound from when he first came out of the water, he figures.

“And I mean, it’s pretty clear this whole thing isn’t your doing,” he continues, ducking under a bridge to avoid the worst of the fight, “it’s way too organized, and honestly? Last time we checked, you didn’t have an entire fleet with you.”

And, not the Sokka would say it aloud, but it just doesn’t seem like something Zuko would do. From what they’ve seen of the guy so far, he’s less about conquering and invading, and more like capture the Avatar, restore my honor, blah, blah, blah. Which makes bringing him straight to Aang probably a very stupid thing. 

Damn.

He groans. What’s he supposed to do now? Zuko’s a dead weight at his side and he has no idea where Yue and the others went, even though he’s supposed to be protecting Yue. And Katara. And Aang. 

Instead, here he is, shuffling into another alley. “This is all your fault,” he glares at the still unconscious moron prince. “Yours and Aang’s. There’s a blizzard outside, did you know?! What, you were just going to get Aang and walk out on the snowstorm?!”

Zuko still doesn’t answer him. He does begin to shiver, though, so that’s something? Better than hypothermia, that’s for sure. Still, Zuko’s shivering and looking sad in his wet clothes, and this is something, at least, that Sokka can help. He can take his own fur coat and drape across him.

“Yeah, you didn’t really think this one through, did you?” He sighs, letting his head thump lightly against the wall behind him. “Me neither, buddy. I’m supposed to be looking after the princess, but I’ve got no idea where they went. I guess I’m looking after you instead, huh? I’m not happy about it either, trust me.”

If only he had some sort of rope– Sokka groans. How does he keep getting in these situations? He levels Zuko with a resentful look. “Why is it always you?” Looking at Zuko now, though, it’s pretty hard to muster much anger. He doesn’t look very intimidating like this– his hair is falling out of his ponytail and his face is paler than usual, his scar stark against the white. Actually, he looks a lot younger like this. Aang had called him a teenager when they met him, but Sokka thinks this might be the first time he’s ever thought of him like that. It’s pretty messed up. Zuko can’t be much older than Sokka– a year? Maybe less? Oddly, it makes him wonder how did he end up here, like this, hunting Aang in a banged up warship and only his Uncle along. Shouldn’t a prince have like, more back up?

Not that Sokka is complaining, it could be a lot worse than Zuko, it could’ve been someone like freaking Zhao. He doesn’t think Zhao would have kept his promise not to destroy his village back in the South Pole. Actually, the guy would’ve probably started with the destroying and left the questions for later.

A hoarse shout shakes off that line of thinking pretty quick.

Zuko wakes up all at once– one second he’s lying motionless on the ice, chest rising and falling steadily faint, pale and pitiful wrapped in Sokka’s furs, and the next he’s fumbling with the cloth, tangling himself further with frantic movements. His eye zeroes in on Sokka, widening as far as they go for a split moment, and managing only a flickering flame with his trembling hands, probably too busy heating up to do any proper firebending.

“Oh, goody, you’re alive,” Sokka says, choosing to let the sarcasm bleed on his voice and quietly grip his boomerang a little tighter, just in case. 

“What,” Zuko coughs up, and the shivering is back, and Sokka doesn’t think he means to be furrowing further into the coat like that. “Where– you. What have you done to me?”

Yeah, Sokka should probably have seen that one coming. Still, “hey! I saved your life! You did all the drowning yourself, buddy!”

 Zuko frowns. Hysterically, Sokka kind of wants to smooth that out, go back to the young look from before. The frown is a very angsty one, though, and full of suspicion, which is fair, all things considered, but he still takes offense. They’re the good guys, after all, they’re not the ones doing the invading.

Spirits, the invasion. Sokka doesn’t have time for this, he needs to find Katara and Aang, he needs to find Yue, he needs– 

“Why?”

He blinks. “Why what?”

“You said you saved me,” Zuko is still sounding worse for wear, rough and cracking at the edges, but there’s some color returning to his cheeks, the shivering finally dying down.

And isn’t that the question? Well, not really. It’s what Aang would have done and that’s usually a pretty good moral compass. Sokka shrugs, “it was the right thing to do. You’re a jerk, but even you didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Zuko doesn’t seem to know what to do with that information, faint steam wafting off his now dry clothes, and Sokka has half a mind to ask for his coat back, a weird tightness on his chest the only thing holding him back– the same odd feeling that sort of made the Aang excuse taste a tiny bit like a lie.

No time to dwell on that, though. Before Zuko could brood some more or throw any other wild accusation, a shadow falls over the both of them, Zuko’s weird uncle pausing at the start of the alley and taking in the scene. His face kind of does a complicated thing where he looks like he wants to bundle Zuko on his arms in the tightest hug in the country but knows Zuko would probably like, throw a fit and then die of dramatic indignation, and Sokka feels like maybe he shouldn’t be witnessing this, especially because the angry jerk is looking like he maybe wouldn’t go so far as dying if hugs were to be involved.

“Nephew,” the old man says, and the relief is his voice is palpable, “you are alive– I feared–”

“I’m fine, Uncle,” Zuko cuts in, getting up in wobbly legs and giving Sokka a wide berth as he inches his way along the wall.

“I owe you a great debt, young man,” he continues, now turning to Sokka with such a grateful face, it’s really hard to remember he’d been doing some chasing the Avatar just weeks ago. He looks so normal. “You saved him when most would not and for that, I can never thank you enough.”

“Uncle!”

“Erm, you’re welcome?” Sokka clears his throat, loosening his rip on the boomerang, suddenly awkward.

“Have you thanked him yet, Prince Zuko?”

“I–”

Iroh– well, Sokka thinks that his name, at least– doesn’t glare, but his eyebrows do a very disappointed move and Zuko seems to cave like a sullen teenager. It’s kind of great. And very surreal, honestly, Sokka is kinda just rolling with it at this point. “Thank you,” Zuko bows, making a very fire nation-y sign with his hands, adds softer, “Sokka.”

“Huh, you do know my name.”

A loud explosion interrupts whatever retort Zuko had been planning, and Iroh grimaces. “I’m afraid we are running out of time,” the grave expression seems foreign in his face and Sokka feels a terrible dread in the pit of his stomach, “Zhao plans on doing the unthinkable– he is going to kill the moon spirit.”

Well, it’s official, then. Zuko’s just been demoted from the worst to pass on the title to Zhao. “Is that even– I mean, how?”

“The Avatar,” Zuko says, but it’s a weak complaint, even he knows stopping the murder of an ancient spirit ranks a bit higher, like immediate catastrophe higher. “Fine,” he snaps, hands curling into fists, “but Zhao is mine.”

Okay, because that sounds like it’s not going to blow up on their faces at all. Not that it matters, because Sokka knows that it’s a done deal now. There’s something urgent in the air, pressing down on them, almost buzzing with the expectations of a tragedy. They’ll need all the help they can get if they mean to stop Zhao’s idiotic plan.

Sokka looks at Iroh, at Zuko. He’s still wearing the fur coat, stretched across his shoulders, sleeves too short at his wrists. 

“You guys,” he feels the need to say, “are the worst. But we should probably hurry up, then.”

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Yanois - Second Impressions Can Bring Misfortune

Read Part One here, or check it out on AO3!

Though their first meeting could have gone better, Illinois might be a little fond of the mystery prisoner. Let’s just hope his famous luck doesn’t run out…

Warning: There is an instance of deadnaming under the read-more. It’s accidental, but be mindful if that might cause a little upset. (I promise this doesn’t end on a bad note)

Word Count: 2,448 (sorry, it’s four hand-written pages)

-

After his encounter with the brash prisoner, Illinois found he couldn’t get the other man out of his head. It was hardly an attraction (no, shut up! It wasn’t!), but he accepted that there was a level of interest in the unknown. Perhaps it was the prisoner’s standoffish attitude, or how he seemed utterly disinterested yet keenly focused. He didn’t heckle during the lecture, so he wasn’t there for the sole purpose of causing trouble.

But the question that plagued Illinois was painfully simple: what was the prisoner’s name? He hated how badly he wanted to know. Ah, the curse of the archaeologist - insatiable curiosity! With no starting point, Illinois took inspiration from his work and fetched his laptop to start the research.

Most prisoners were from Texas, but not all. The stranger’s accent suggested he was potentially from New York, so Illinois decided to sieve through articles that made reference to a transferral to a Texan prison first. His abundance of good luck meant that it only took an hour to find a result that was most fitting. The article was several years old and discussed the outcome of a rather tragic case. The information was put to the back of his mind - Warden Murderslaughter always said to never talk about an inmate’s crime unless they bring it up first - as Illinois instead took the important information. The photograph used of the criminal was old, but it matched. Which meant… He had a name! All he had to do was wait until the next time he was set to visit Happy Trails Penitentiary.

-

As luck would have it, he merely had to wait a week. When he wasn’t travelling as part of archaeological trips, Illinois would volunteer two Saturdays a month to teach the inmates. Unlike his history lectures, these consisted of smaller groups of prisoners undertaking a short course on several points in history; which would be rounded off with each prisoner completing a short research project on something that interested them in the course. All he needed was to put his possessions in the room he used for classes, and then he would be free to find the right prisoner if he arrived earlier than usual. The inmates followed a set schedule with minor variations depending on when their work shifts were. He had been volunteering long enough to know when one of the crossover periods would take place. It would be easy to find him!

The rec yard was fruitless, as was the library. But it was upon leaving the chow hall that Illinois spotted the man of the hour. He seemed in a hurry as the prisoner dashed toward the hall.

“Ah! Can I have a moment?” Illinois called out. The tattooed man screeched to a halt, bemused once he realised who wanted his attention. Unfortunately, no one else was around, so it had to be him. 

“Sure. Fine. What?” His eyes didn’t stay on Illinois, but instead darted to the clock.

“I know this is likely a bad time, but I’d like a chance to talk. We got off on the wrong foot last time.” Even Illinois knew it didn’t go well. “Are you free after your shift?”

“U-uh…. Yeah?” Thrown by the turn of events, it appeared the bold prisoner was willing to cooperate. “I know I’d never hear the end of it if my friends heard I refused. They’s is always singing youse’s praises. ‘Sides, second chances is always a good thing, right?” He looked as though he was about to say something else, but decided against it. Regardless, Illinois was elated.

“Excellent! In that case, I’ll be in the classroom just opposite the library until seven this evening. Call by when you’re free. Even if there’s a class going on, sit in on it anyway.” The prisoner nodded and hurried past once he knew he was dismissed. Before the other disappeared into the chow hall, Illinois belatedly realised he should be more polite about this. He guessed the other might be swallowing his pride in accepting the invitation to chat, given their first meeting. The least he could do was show some manners.

“Thank you! I look forward to chatting, █████!”

Whatever progress had been made was instantly thrown aside. The prisoner froze in the doorway. Though his back was to Illinois, the archaeologist could see that the other was rigid. It wasn’t a reaction Illinois associated with hearing one’s own name…. Unless it was a name they didn’t use anymore.

“O-oh my God, I’m so sorry, I had no -” For once, Illinois found himself stammering in a frantic attempt to get an apology out. It was to no avail, as a fistful of his shirt had been grabbed and he was slammed against the wall.

“I don’t know what sorta shit game youse is playing,” the prisoner hissed, “But if youse is gonna act like youse is better than me by being such a sly bitch…. I really wanna beat the shit outta youse, but I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“Yancy! That’s enough!” The prisoner - Yancy? - dropped Illinois without hesitation and didn’t struggle when two guards rushed over and restrained him. “Bring him into th’ chow hall to calm down. I’ll speak to him in a sec. As fer you…” Yancy was led away by the guards, and it was hard to ignore how withdrawn he seemed compared to minutes earlier. With heavy guilt, Illinois pulled his attention away to finally acknowledge Warden Murderslaughter, who had been the one to stop the disaster in its tracks. His lips were pursed and his arms crossed as he shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Illinois. Out of all our volunteers, I thought you would’ve known our most important rule better than anyone else: don’t provoke th’ inmates with topics that are touchy fer ‘em.”

“But I didn’t know -” Illinois’ head turned toward the chow hall’s entrance. “I only wanted to get to know him. I didn’t mean to…”

“Who told you that name?”

“No one?” He looked back at the Warden with confusion. “I read it in an article covering the trial online.” The Warden pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh.

“Son… You could’ve saved yourself a whole lotta bother if you’d thought to ask someone here, even over the phone. It isn’t like you to mess up like this.” He put an arm around Illinois’ shoulder and began guiding him toward the staff breakroom. “The name you used is correct, if you go by legal documents or the press, but it’s not the name he goes by. Everyone calls him ‘Yancy’. See, his birth name has links to pretty painful memories that I don’t think he’ll ever recover from, and he’s been striving to prove he’s a better person as ‘Yancy’. So to turn ‘round and use th’ wrong name is like a slap to the face and a surefire way for him to hate you. Now, I know you had good intentions and it was an honest mistake, but you need to be more careful. Next time you see him, give him a good, proper apology. Just know he’s probably gonna be frosty toward ya. I’ll go talk to him and check if he’s okay, let him know you didn't mean to use the wrong name.” The Warden threw a glance over his shoulder with a hint of a smile. “Yancy’s a good kid, despite how he acts sometimes. He’s been through some rough times, but his heart’s stayed in the right place. If he can have a friend outside the prison… I think it’ll do him some good. Now, get yourrself a coffee before you start classes.”

Illinois blinked, genuinely surprised to realise they had arrived. Murderslaughter gave him a hearty slap on the back of the shoulder (Illinois had learned long ago the art of hiding the wince from the strength of such actions) before making his way back to the chow hall.

---

In the chow hall, Yancy was a mess. He sat far away from anyone else who might have been there. A cup of water had been given to him, but it was used more as a stress ball rather than a drink. He didn’t know what to think. How could someone act like they wanted to be a friend, then turn around in the same breath and say something that implied the complete opposite? Why remind him of what he did long ago? The cup was put aside so he could slump across the table with a defeated groan. █████… Was that all he was ever going to be to the outside world? Would the attempts he has made to be a better person forever go unnoticed under the large, looming shadow of his crimes? Then again, prisoners like him were locked away to be forgotten about by the world.

His form tensed the moment he spotted the Warden sitting opposite him. This was it - he was going to be scolded and sent to Solitary, and probably lose other privileges on top of that. How dare Yancy lay a finger on the visitor everyone worshipped!!

But it was nothing like that. Murderslaughter checked if he was okay. They sat in silence for a few moments so Yancy could try and collect himself without anyone else approaching. Then, the Warden praised him for not completely lashing out, but then took time to explain Illinois’ side of things.

“- He’s not like the reporters or anyone else who comes to ‘visit’ you. He was a moron who didn’t ask th’ staff for your name. It seems like he wants to try an’ be friends…. But it’s fine if ya don’t wanna see him today. An’ if you’d rather go lie down instead of working, that’s fine too.

“N-no… I’d rather work. Don’t really wanna be left alone with my thoughts just yet.”

-

Yancy spent the rest of the morning washing dishes. The work wasn’t ‘busy’ enough to keep his mind distracted, but it was labour-intensive and he could work out his frustration on the crockery. By the time he finished his shift and lunch, he returned to his cell with an idea - he needed to get rid of the White Jaguar model. It had to be the source of the blame.

But just like a blasted boomerang, the clay figure kept returning to him in ridiculous manners throughout the afternoon. Yancy dropped it in the trash on the way outside, only to be tapped on the shoulder by another prisoner who thought it was dropped by mistake. Trying to gift it to anyone in the Gang had them refuse - Bam-Bam had initially accepted, but changed his mind when he held the tiny model and handed it back to Yancy with the excuse that it ‘belonged’ to him. He then hid it in the long grass in the rec yard. When no one immediately found it, he went to the bathroom, returned to his cell… And was greeted with the terrifying sight of the White Jaguar sitting on his pillow, staring at him. Overcome with frustration, he decided to simply break it. He threw it at the wall with all his might. Instead of smashing, it ricocheted off the wall and toppled his radio that had been on his bed, before landing neatly on the pillow. Yancy picked it up, he swore there was a look of smugness on the Jaguar’s face, which reminded him of… Wait.

He could simply return it to Illinois and ask him never to speak to Yancy again. It would solve two problems at once.

---

“Come in!” Illinois’ voice was upbeat as he tidied the classroom after a day of workshops. The guilt from earlier had been put aside in favour of professionalism. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all. However, that professionalism immediately slipped the moment he saw who entered.

“Yancy!” The name was blurted out with relief more than pleasantry. Whatever Illinois had been putting into his briefcase was unceremoniously dumped as he gave Yancy his full attention. “Before you say anything…. I want to apologise for this morning. I made the mistake of not checking with the staff what name you prefer to go by. It was careless of me. I know I upset you, and I am truly sorry. You don’t need to forgive me, as I know it’s something that hurt you… But I just want you to know I didn’t mean to use that name, and I’ll never use it again, Yancy.”

Yancy was dumbfounded. No one who deliberately used that name apologised. They never cared that it made him uncomfortable and upset. Emotions stung him for the second time that day, but polar opposites to the anger that had nearly consumed him in the morning.

“I-I, uh… Thanks. For apologising, I mean. Takes balls to admit youse was wrong ‘bout something. But it means a lot that, y’know, youse said sorry. So… If it’s okay with youse, we can consider it forgiven and forgotten.” Yancy looked ill at ease, but Illinois couldn’t blame him. It would be better to find a new topic to talk about before Yancy decided to swiftly dismiss himself. At that moment, Yancy adjusted his stance, drawing Illinois’ attention to his hand.

“Is that the White Jaguar model I gave you?”

Yancy blinked and looked at his hand like he didn’t know it had existed until that very moment. He opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a quick shake of his head. When he did speak again, there was the faintest hint of a smile.

“Yeah, uh… Had a few people asking ‘bout it, but I don’t remember shit from that talk so… Is it too late to join one of these class things you is doing?” Yancy mentally slapped himself for doing the opposite of what he had intended, but it wasn’t met with a cocky reaction. Instead, Illinois’ face lit up like the Fourth of July and invited Yancy to the desk so they could check if there was a class that would fit neatly into Yancy’s schedule. There was a hint of awkwardness between them, but Illinois was optimistic that this could be the start of a better chapter for them.

However, he did get a little ahead of himself and winked at Yancy just before the prisoner left. Yancy rolled his eyes, but the dismissive look had a trace of amusement in it as he left. Once the door closed, Illinois found himself staring at it for several long moments.

Okay… Maybe there was a bit of an attraction toward Yancy after all.

[oimoi-op]

I want more of my comps to start arguing with me again lmao

Like, easily one of my favorite parts of KOTEF/KOTET was Koth, who can abandon your DS V ass and steal your ship if he doesn’t like your moral choices. Having Koth around was great because he actively spoke out against the shadier shit that Lana and even Theron were totally cool with going along with, and so it 1.) made conflict! And conflict is interesting! and 2.) made that particular Outlander way more cautious and shrewd when making choices regarding Zakuulans.

Koth got significantly less screentime in KOTET (except for the mission where it was obvious that had you done The Thing that had gotten him to leave, he would’ve been back to either be killed or cause drama), and while I overall liked ET more the FE, it definitely felt weaker when it came to character interactions and different character development options (EXCEPT for Torian/Vette because. well. you know). Koth and Senya’s interactions were cool, for example, since it showed that they actually agreed on a lot of things and approaches when it came to helping Zakuul (which makes Senya’s “betrayal” and Koth’s reaction all the more tragic imo—Koth was so pissed off about her because he hadn’t wanted to be right about her choosing herself and her family over everyone else, he hadn’t wanted to go back to hating her). Koth was also practically nonexistent in the entirety of the Iokath/Nathema/Zildrog arc except for the final cutscene, which is ridiculous seeing as how the motherfucking Gravestone--yanno, the ship he basically claimed as his own, modified by himself, put his crew on, can possibly betray your ass and steal--blew up, with his narrative role instead being given to Hylo.

Some of the shit is fine, of course. Quinn can betray you (again because LS SWs will actually never fucking get a break and exist only to suffer) and so can Elara, Bey’wan can retire due to mixed feelings, all of your Imp/Pub recruits can send you letters about their misgivings if you side with their opposing faction, etc., but none of it has so far gone to the extent that it could. I get that this is partly due to the 180 the game went through from KOTFE/ET to the good ol’ Space Nazis vs. Shitty Space Politicians, but it also feels so...half-assed?

On one hand, I can see why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to lose half of your comps due to them being aligned with the opposite faction, especially since your DS Imp loyalist IA has had T7 around for a few years now, and for certain characters, it actually makes sense for them to be okay with switching loyalties. Guys like Aric and Theron, for example, are obviously still loyal to the Republic, but they went through some pretty shitty experiences during the five years the Outlander was napping, and so they have more reasons to be loyal to the Outlander/Alliance as they were the ones that brought results and got rid of the Zakuulan royal brats problems. Likewise, comps such as Pierce and Quinn are going to be loyal to their original class PC (in this case, the SW) no matter what, which can be seen in how Quinn can still join the Alliance even after he betrays you if you side with the Republic. But this is where stuff gets gray and gray can still get a bit too black-and-white for some of these characters.

I fucking love T7, and even my more DS-inclined Outlanders are quite fond of him. At the same time, I’m just not sure how it makes sense for T7 to be working with an Imp loyalist who’s working with the guy who killed T7′s old master under any circumstances.

I actually liked the idea of gray/third options in KOTFE/ET, but the game just doesn’t seem to be structured in a way that makes that work. Neutral!Smuggler is still the Republic’s lackey come Ilum, Darth Imperius is on the Dark Council at the end of their class story, and you have to sit on the Eternal Throne no matter what at the end of ET. The game has never been interested in the gray area despite all of the little tidbits thrown in here and there (like WHO THE FUCK IS ISAACS WHAT THE FUCK BIOWARE), and so it just seems...well, jarring that the story is still acting as though that’s still (or ever was) an option.

[hermannsthumb]

Could you do #40 cancelled holiday party? Thank you!

40. i just found out that a friend of a friend of a friend isn’t hosting their annual holiday party this year, so now how am i going to have my annual run in with you?

from winter writing prompts here

happy xmas eve, if you celebrate it!

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

Newt doesn’t really have many friends, and certainly not enough to warrant a flood of party invitations come December, but for the past few years he’s been able to rely pretty consistently on at least one. Back when the band was still together, his drummer had a pretty cool girlfriend who would sometimes let them tag along as the entertainment for parties around town, and her brother (who was almost as cool as her) ended up liking the way they sounded so much he invited them back to his own parties a couple times. Then he dated Newt’s guitarist, and then he broke up with Newt’s guitarist, and then he dated Newt, and then he broke up with Newt, and it sort of fell apart from there (and so did the band), but the breakup was actually pretty amicable, and he’s never failed to extend the invitation to Newt for his annual holiday bash as a courtesy. And Newt’s never failed to make an appearance. What’s there not to like, you know? It’s free booze, free food, and the chance to not feel like a total loser loner for once. Plus…well. Another reason.

But this year isn’t looking too good for Newt.

“Sick?” Newt says. “What do you mean he’s sick?”

“I mean,” Newt’s ex-drummer says, irritably, “he’s sick. Caught the flu or something. I don’t know, Jackie just wanted me to call and tell you, she didn’t give me any details.”

“Couldn’t he have called me himself?” Newt says.

“No,” Newt’s ex-drummer says, “I told you, he has the flu, he’s totally out of it, man. Party’s off this year. Hey, did you get our Christmas card?”

“What? Oh. Yeah,” Newt sighs. He tacked it up on his fridge: the two women with their arms around each other, one pink-haired, one blue-haired, holding up their cat in the middle like it was their son or something. Clever. Quirky. Newt just makes a generic Tweet mid-December wishing everyone a happy holiday season and calls it a success—less effort. “Yeah, it was cute. It’s definitely cancelled? He can’t just, I don’t know, take some Advil or something and—”

“Newt,” she says.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Newt says. “Tell Jackie to tell him to—get well soon? Soon enough for New Year’s, maybe? Because it would be great if—”

She hangs up on him. Newt probably deserved it.

He stalks Jackie’s brother’s Facebook for a bit after the phone call to make sure he’s not just lying about the flu to get out of inviting Newt to the holiday bash he’s definitely having. It becomes clear pretty quick it’s pretty legit—he’s made exactly one post in the last few days, and it’s a selfie of him looking absolutely horrid in his bed, advising everyone to not be like him and get their flu shots. Not lying, then. Damn it. There’s not even going to be anything for Newt to crash.

“Damn it,” Newt groans, and slams his laptop shut.

In all honesty, Newt’s not pissed about missing the party itself. He’s pissed about missing the party guests. How else is he going to have his annual spat at the snack table with his mortal enemy, Dr. Bitchy, British, Badly-Dressed Gottlieb?

Mortal enemy is too strong. Rival, maybe? Though certainly not a friendly one. He’s fond of Dr. Gottlieb, really, in some insane, backwards kinda way, like he’s a specimen Newt would love nothing more than to cram under a microscope and study up close. What makes him tick? What makes him scowl like that, yell at Newt—more or less a stranger—like that, attend the same party year after year like that only to stand in the darkest corner like a vampire and avoid every single other person? The first time they met was at the party three years ago, when Dr. Gottlieb loudly accused Newt of deliberately snagging the last cucumber finger sandwich because he somehow knew Dr. Gottlieb was eyeing it up, too, and only did it to annoy him, and it’s only gone downhill from there. Or maybe uphill. He fascinates Newt.

He’s also insanely attractive to Newt. Bitchy, British, Badly-Dressed, but, my God, what a set of cheekbones, what a set of eyes, what a big ‘ole mouth that Newt can only assume would be awesome for kissing. And only a few inches of height on Newt, too; he wouldn’t even need to stretch up that far to test out his hypothesis.

Since Newt has Facebook open, he does another search for Dr. Gottlieb—Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, technically, though he’s furious whenever Newt tries to call him anything other than his full title. If Newt was normal, he’d just shoot the guy a friend request or something. A simple message. He just stalks his page instead, which makes him feel the sting of the cancelled party even more keenly: Dr. Gottlieb doesn’t post, like, any pictures of himself, but the ones he’s been tagged in by his company and someone who appears to be his brother make it very clear very fast that he kinda just got even hotter over the year. He’s started wearing his oversized glasses on a librarian chain, and his haircut—which had always been a severe sort of undercut—has grown out up top to be adorably poofy. Tragic.

He shoots his ex-drummer a text later. Can you ask Jackie to ask about that Gottlieb guy that’s there every year? Like, what’s his deal?

The reply comes later, while Newt is reheating some leftover Chinese takeout for dinner. they’re friends w gottlieb’s younger bro. mostly invite him to be nice.

“Figures,” Newt mutters.

Well, if there won’t be a party at which to have their annual run-in, Newt is simply going to have to orchestrate a run-in himself. The first step is finding out where Gottlieb works.

Newt picks a miserable day to set his plan into action. A snowstorm swept through the city a few days prior, and before the sidewalks were even finished dethawing, a sleet storm followed and turned them into eighty-percent sheets of ice. And then more snow comes. Newt slips and slides all the way to the cafe across from Gottlieb’s humble little robotics research facility, cursing himself for not having invested in proper winter boots yet. Docs are practical and cool, but they could be warmer, and Newt’s are so old the treads are basically nonexistent. He orders himself the most expensive coffee on the menu as a reward for his troubles and claims a chair near the large shop window in front, underneath a hanging fern. He would simply wait and watch for Gottlieb to walk out. The man had to walk out eventually. Lunch break, or coffee break, or even just clocking out for the day. He had to.

“Would you like to see our sandwich menu, sir?” a waitress asks Newt. “We have a new—"

“Nah, no thanks,” Newt says. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the window. “You don’t have to call me sir, by the way. It makes me feel old. Does a Dr. Gottlieb ever come here?”

The waitress snorts involuntarily; she flushes a second later. “Sorry,” she says. “It’s just that—yes, Dr. Gottlieb comes in a lot, and he’s kind of…”

“Awful?” Newt grins.

“Particular,” the waitress says. “He has us remake his coffee if it’s not perfect enough for him. And we have to write out the whole thing, Dr. Gottlieb, on his cup, every time. He tips really well, though, so we don’t really mind.”

“Has he come in today yet?” Newt says.

She opens her mouth as if to answer the question, but then furrows her eyebrows. “Why do you want to know, anyway? Are you guys friends?”

“Not really,” Newt says. Deciding it’s not worth the effort to explain the complex homoeroticism of his dynamic with Gottlieb, and to random waitress who probably doesn’t give a shit at that, he amends “I mean, yes. Good friends. I’ll see that sandwich menu, actually.”

Newt has a nice breakfast of avocado and egg on a bagel, and pretends to do work on his laptop for a few hours, but—to his disappointment—Dr. Gottlieb doesn’t come in for a coffee. Newt doesn’t catch sight of any familiar dark-haired, scowling men walking in or out of the institute, either. Gottlieb must have off today. Maybe it’s for the best, anyway; Newt’s not totally sure what he would’ve done if he ran into the guy on the street, or how he would have even explained why he’s there to Gottlieb if he did. He was just sort of operating under the assumption he’d figure it out in the heat of the moment. He calls it quits around three in the afternoon, not wanting to walk home in the dark after sunset. “Happy holidays,” he tells the baristas gloomily, and steps out into the snow with one last cardboard cup of coffee.

He mulls it all over in his head as he avoids ice patches and passersby on the way home. Should he ask for Dr. Gottlieb’s number? Is it weird to ask your ex, or even his sister, for the number of a guy you’re sorta-interested in? Newt supposes it’s weird to invite your ex to a holiday party in the first place, but he really wasn’t lying about it being amicable. Maybe he wouldn’t care. He could always just send that fucking Facebook friend request. Or he could just wait until next year. It’s just a year.

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice the patch of ice directly in front of his apartment until he’s already stepping on it, and his stomach flips in a way that lets Newt knows he’s just fucked up; his worn-out boot loses traction, his arms pinwheel, his coffee goes flying, and he lands—

In someone’s arms?

Well, even that’s not totally right. He lands mostly in someone’s arms, but he hears a little oof, an exclamation of surprise, and then they both topple over and into a snowbank. The coffee lands somewhere next to Newt’s head. “Bugger,” a familiar voice groans.

Newt sits up. Dr. Gottlieb is laying on his back next to him, wrapped in a green parka and about three scarves. To Newt’s relief, he doesn’t look angry. More embarrassed than anything else. “Apologies,” he says. “You were heavier than I’d anticipated. Or perhaps I was not as strong as I anticipated.”

“I appreciate it anyway, dude,” Newt says.

He gets to his feet, locates Gottlieb’s cane from where it’s somehow landed on the other side of the sidewalk, then tugs Gottlieb to his feet as well. Gottlieb makes a face as he rights himself. “You ought to watch yourself, and be more careful,” he says. “You could break your neck next time.”

“Worried about me?” Newt says. He dusts some snow off Gottlieb’s shoulders. “What are you doing outside my apartment, dude?”

“Er,” Gottlieb says.

He goes a strange shade of pink, and clears his throat. “I fancied…a walk. In the snow. Fresh air. And I just happened to be—er—” He clears his throat again. “I happened to discover you lived here, and my walk happened to take me by. I wasn’t looking for you, if that’s what you’re implying. Or waiting for you. I have better things to do with myself.”

“Really?” Newt says. “’Cause I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” Gottlieb says.

He really is cute right now, with his red-tipped ears, his dumb coat, his dumb scarves, the snow sticking to his back and his poofy hair. Sticking to his long eyelashes. It’s the first time Newt’s ever seen the guy not, like, at least mildly annoyed at him; it’s doing something funny to his heart. “Hey, you wanna come in for a coffee or something?” he says. “Mine kinda spilled, and I could go for another.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Gottlieb says.

Newt grins. “Come on, I know you want to. It’s cold as shit out and you’ve clearly been out here for a while. We can order a pizza or something, too.”

“Well,” Gottlieb says, and he ducks his head as he finally smiles back. It’s worth the wait, because my God, is it cute, all broad and crooked. Newt has the feeling not too many people get to witness it. “Perhaps for a bit. I was hoping to discuss your latest article with you, you know, and was very put out when I learned I wouldn’t be seeing you at the party this year.”

“Oh?” Newt says. He holds out his hand, and Gottlieb startles visibly a moment before taking it. Newt can feel how cold Gottlieb is even through his thick red mitten—he could use a little warming up. Newt can light a fire in the fireplace he rarely uses…maybe break out some wine…it’ll be nice and romantic… “Did you like it?”

“Not in the slightest,” Gottlieb says cheerily.

“Just what I was hoping,” Newt says. “After you, Doctor.”

[lovelyirony]

 cosmetology anon: this is for you, although I tweaked the idea a bit. i hope you don’t mind! 

Acquiring Tony Stark as an Asset had been purely by chance; after all, he wasn’t planned on being in the car. He was still an insolent teenager, angry with the world and angry with his father. They didn’t think he would’ve gone to a business party. 

But his mother...well. They hadn’t thought that Tony Stark was a mama’s boy. 

Because there Tony is, gasping for air while glass glitters all around him, looking near about like an angel that was torn from heaven with how it surrounded him. 

They had thought he was dead.  

At least, up until the point when he had looked Winter Soldier dead in the eye, said “hey you fucking asshole” and got a pretty damn good shot in the thigh. 

Someone on the brink of death might have tried the gun, but never the insult. 

So Hydra gets a brand new toy. 

Not easily broken, which is a pain-and-a-half to deal with. At least with the Winter Soldier, he was too delirious with blood loss to notice who was operating on him, what they were attaching. 

Tony Stark is on a whole other level. 

He bites, he kicks, he scratches. Quite annoying, they just want him to tire himself out. 

“Stark Industries doesn’t negotiate,” he hisses, trying to kick one of the nurses in the teeth. 

“Who said anything about negotiating?” says the head doctor viciously. His teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting, scalpels reflecting brilliantly onto the walls. “As far as the media knows, you’re dead. No one is going to come looking, and no one even knows who we are.” 

They make him sleep on a cot nearby Winter Soldier. Which is terrifying, to say the least. Not that he can kill him. He can’t touch him either. 

He’s in a deep freezer. Eyes closed, thank god. But they put him there and they tell him all about how he came to be there. 

“Everyone thought Barnes hit a rock and died,” one of the techs says, checking the machine. “He nearly did, but Zola helped us fix him up. Course, that was after a couple of times where he got to someone’s neck, and that was even before programming.” 

“Programming?” 

The tech leers at him, grinning. He’s standing, Tony’s sitting. It shouldn’t be as intimidating as it is. 

“Oh yeah, Stark. They’re gonna fix you all up.” 

“I don’t need fixing.” 

“Tell that to Winter Soldier.” 

“And what if your little machine gets rid of me, hm? Kills me?” 

“We add you to the other disappointments, or we dig a shallow grave and hope you’re found decades later.” 

Not exactly promising. 

But here’s the thing: the tech was wrong. They won’t add him to the pile of disappointments. 

The last time he went to a therapy appointment, his therapist said he had a “deep-seated need to be liked and be useful, which could be dangerous later.” 

He’s assuming that Doc Chesterfield wasn’t exactly expecting Tony to be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Murder Machine, but Doc wasn’t really the kind of guy who was “in the know” about a lot of things. 

That need to be liked and useful was about to come in handy.  

Barely able to legally drink, he goes to the main doctor in charge. “You need me.” 

The doctor looks at him incredulously. 

“You think we need a kid to do all this shit? You think we haven’t figured it out?” 

“You can’t have Barnes-” 

“Winter Soldier, boy.” 

“Fine, your little toy soldier. You can’t keep him out longer than necessary, otherwise his brain realizes that all of you are shitty and tries to break out. Again. You need someone else to take a look at it, and I’m the best bet you got.” 

“And why would that be?” 

Tony grins, and they see a shadow of what he has had in his life, exactly just who he used to be. Who he still is, at the moment. 

“Whether you want to admit it or not--I’d say go ahead and admit it, I’m fun like that--I’m the smartest one in the room, maybe in the country. Maybe in two countries. I could swing the UK, it’s not like they’ve had anything interesting for the last hundred or so years--” 

“Get to the point,” the handler hisses. 

“I can help with arm maintenance. I’m not gonna do anything else to this poor guy, but I wanna stay alive and I’m not letting you erase my fucking mind because you want to have another toy soldier to march to your drum.” 

“You almost make a compelling case,” the handler says. “We do need a mechanic on the arm, so to speak. But if he only comes out when we need him...well. Maintenance is manageable.” 

Tony pushes his chin out. 

“I can do better than your best.” 

“Unfortunately, I don’t care. You’re too big of a liability.” 

It is at this moment that Tony realizes he cannot talk his way out, or fight his way out, but damn he gets a scalpel and tries. 

Manages to slice across the face of the handler. Nerve damage, tissue damage, quite potentially a very ugly nose. All very nice. 

That gets him moved up by a month. 

They send him to a chair that’s probably a lot worse than he’s imagining, give him a mouth guard, and tell him to scream all he likes. Sometimes it’s better to not have a voice later. 

They say it like they’re quoting one of those shitty articles from Cosmopolitan that discusses the top forty-five best ways to move in the bedroom or something. He and Rhodey use to read it all the time whenever they visited one of the sororities. 

(He misses Rhodey, more than words can say. The tears burn in his throat as the chair powers up, but he doesn’t dare cry. He hasn’t told them about Rhodey, and he doesn’t want him used against him. 

He doesn’t want to be used against Rhodey.) 

- 

Tony Stark becomes the Mechanic. He stares too long, moves a bit slow at times, and doesn’t like people touching his things. 

Hydra thinks it’s a success. 

-

Tony thinks they should’ve done more than three sessions of go-round for their little buzzy-chair. 

-

Just god, have none of them had to act before? Is that what this is? 

So long as he doesn’t show any aspect of any real personality, they think he’s a walking-talking robot. 

Should’ve just called him Chatty Cathy and attached a pull-string to his back with loadable phrases if they were just gonna call him the Mechanic and think his silence and weird staring habits were fine. 

Winter Soldier needs maintenance. 

Tony tries very carefully to keep his persona up. He thinks he’s doing a good job until the nurse leaves the room for her smoke-break and Winter Soldier gives him a look that’s so...different. 

"They think you’re like me.” 

“I am.” 

“No.” 

“And how can you tell?” 

“You’re not hurting my arm.” 

“Well I can, if you wanna be a masochist about it.” 

He blankly stares. 

“Why didn’t it work?” 

“Not enough rounds.” 

“We need to stop talking or they’ll watch the cameras.” 

“Got it.” 

Tony is not facing the cameras. They have no suspicion now, and if they can’t see him move his lips, then there’s no worry. 

He faces Winter Soldier. 

“You wanna get out of here? Tap once on your left, right on my thigh for yes. Twice for no.” 

Tap. 

There it is. 

“Well, it’ll take time. You okay with that?” 

Tap tap. 

“I can’t make wishes come true,” Tony says sarcastically. Soldier hides a smile. “But. I have someone who might be looking for me. Or he’ll know it’s me.” 

“A friend?” 

“Something better. Family.” 

It takes a little while. Despite Hydra’s incompetence at programming Tony out of his own system, they’re good at watching. They’re good at sniffing out undercover plans, so they set nurses to watch him and give him the worst food in his life. 

And he can’t say anything about it. 

They’re probably rations leftover from World War II, and here he is, pretending like it doesn’t bother him. 

The first mission they’re out on, Tony wants so badly to break free. It looks too easy, probably because it is. 

“The first time I escaped, they dragged me back and nearly gave me a matching leg to go with the arm,” Soldier murmurs in Russian. 

(Tony’s had to take Russian classes. God, he’s lucky he has an eidetic memory otherwise he’d be up a paddle with a slotted spoon.) 

“What, didn’t want to put more value on yourself?” 

“Something like that,” Soldier says grimly. “Pay attention. They’re gonna put you in a cafe, have you run surveillance. You report back to me. Call me Winter.” 

“Call me Mechanic.” 

“That’s the name they chose?” 

“Didn’t count my vote.” 

Winter snorts. 

“Time to get a move on.” 

Tony has never been good at hiding his emotions, but by god he’s learning on the fly. At least Winter has a mask, and they’re...well, they’re working on one for him. 

It’s not exactly priority, because everyone in the world thinks he’s dead. 

- 

Well. Shouldn’t say everyone. There is one guy who has decided that Tony didn’t die. 

James Rhodes is a very smart guy, graduated top of his class at MIT and has full honors. 

He also knows that Tony has fallen off of beds, out of chairs, down one flight of stairs, and tripped on just about everything. 

And he’s lived. He has defied near-death experiences before, and he’s been fine. 

Maybe Rhodey is crazy. He most likely is. 

But he doesn’t mind being crazy if no one can actually confirm that Tony died. The funeral was closed for the family, not even Rhodey could go. 

“Sorry kiddo,” Obie had said, not sorry at all. He’s never liked the kid, thought him too blunt about situations that he didn’t need to be blunt about. 

So Rhodey thinks that this is a conspiracy, only he doesn’t want his best friend to end up on a YouTube video five years later talking about the “tragic disappearance” and how “no one could figure it out.” 

He’s James fucking Rhodes. Sometimes goes by Rhodey. And he’s got this. 

- 

Winter Soldier does not “got this.” He is currently being thrown against a wall, and grunting as he looks at the target. 

Tony is currently trying very hard not to have a full-blown emotional show-off, because he is supposed to be fixing up some of the weapons and sending them out. 

It is rather stress-inducing, once you start thinking about it. 

He tries not to. 

God, he’s not even getting pizza after that. He’s probably going to get some bullshit like a vanilla nutritional protein shake. 

Out everything he’s been put through, and that’s the thing that makes him retch.

 - 

Barnes is looking...rough. He got shoved a lot, the mission didn’t exactly go to plan, which turns out to be quite the large problem. 

Because Tony took over. They found out that he can actually assemble weaponry and aim with nearly-one-hundred-percent accuracy. 

They think it’s because they fried his brain and injected some sort of back-alley-serum. 

It’s not. 

He’s not even sure if their serum worked, if he’s being completely honest.

But this? Oh god. 

The doctors look at him with an almost giddy joy. 

“We’ll have Soldier train you.” 

"He is not going back into the cryogenic chambers?” 

“No, not...not until you prove yourself.” 

“I have proven myself accurate with mechanical fixes.” 

“Always best to diversify your skills.” 

“Expand.” 

(Tony’s been messing with them a lot. They’re not positive he knows advanced vocabulary. He does, he just hates them.) 

Barnes is...not exactly excited that he’s not becoming an ice-pop. 

“I’m...training you?” 

“Yeah, looks like it. You wanna teach me how to choke someone with my thighs?” 

“Only when they send the Widows.” 

“Who are they?” 

“Best damned assassins you’ll ever have the displeasure of experiencing.” 

“Aw, you’re learning how to curse!” 

“Shut up, they’re onto us.” 

- 

Winter Soldier and the Mechanic have a...cordial relationship. At least, out of the ring. 

In the ring, they don’t rather like the other that much. Mechanic much prefers to avoid Soldier at all times. 

“You can’t just run from every opponent,” Winter hisses. 

“You’ve been doing it since 1948,” Tony responds in a robotic tone, nearly missing a kick to the shins. “I don’t see why not.” 

He smiles at that one, looking at Tony. 

He was...Tony was unique. He would whisper stories in the dead of night, mostly about a man named Jarvis and a boy his age named “Rhodey.” 

“His parents...they didn’t actually name him that, did they?” 

Tony has to bury his face in his pillow to hide his face from laughing. 

Winter got a good look at that smile. 

It’s chillingly nice to look at it, and maybe that’s because he hasn’t smiled in years, or maybe it’s because he’s never seen another person smile with joy in it for decades. 

- 

For a couple more months, nothing on their side happens. 

Rhodey, however, learns how to use Tony’s homemade AI for illegal purposes! 

He’s figured out lots of things. 

Tony was never confirmed dead. Technically, he’s a missing person. 

Which means they don’t know if he’s dead because they never found him. 

Secondly, there’s a strange email to someone who goes by Zola. 

Well, Rhodey and Tony didn’t stay up until three a.m. to solve impossible codes for nothing. 

James Rhodes figures out that the Winter Soldier isn’t some whispered about myth, and so he decides to try and find him. 

He’ll need to ask Mama if he can use the sedan, but it should be fine. After all, he has a friend to find. 

- 

Hydra is getting too used to having them out. Tony’s been coaching Barnes on not letting his reactions be at the front and center. 

He’s remembering a lot more. Starting to become a bit more human-like. 

He actually doesn’t like the food now, which is a tasteful improvement. 

“When we get out,” Tony whispers in night. “I’m going to make sure that you get the best goddamned pizza the earth has ever seen. And we’ll celebrate your birthday.” 

“When is my birthday?” 

“I...huh. I don’t know. That’s not the fact I remember from school.” 

“So you remembered that my favorite movie star was Hedy Lamarr, but not my own birthday?” 

“In my defense, Ms. Lamarr is far more memorable than a simple date on the calendar.” 

Barnes smiles. 

“I can’t wait to see a picture of her.” 

“You will, soon.” 

- 

Rhodey is getting close. 

The only barrier is convincing his mama to use the sedan. 

“What for?” 

“A trip.” 

“To?” 

“Washington DC?” 

“Why are you questioning that, young man?” 

“Um, because of gas money? Maybe?” 

Mrs. Rhodes stands up to her full height of five-foot-two and stares. 

“What’s the real reason? I didn’t raise a son who could lie to his mother successfully.” 

Rhodey sighs. 

“Tony’s alive. I think. I’m, like, ninety-five-percent sure.” 

Her face softens. 

“Oh baby, you’ve talked about this with your therapist, and-” 

Rhodey glares. 

“It’s not about the therapist’s opinion, mom. I broke into some records. There was a closed-casket funeral, and technically? They didn’t have a body for Tones. I know he’s out there, and I think I got a lead with the help of Jarvis.” 

“I thought Jarvis was dead.” 

“Not Edwin, Mama. Tony’s creation, an AI named Jarvis.” 

Mama looks at him carefully. 

“You sure this is what is going to make you happy?” 

“I don’t care about being happy, I want to see if I can bring him home, Mama.” 

She dangles the keys. 

“If you scratch this car up, I will not hesitate to tell every single aunt at church about this and have common sense walloped into you.” 

“I promise I won’t,” Rhodey says. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“I’ll pack you a bag. And you need your church clothes.” 

“Ma...” 

“Don’t Ma me, I’m your mother, I know what’s best,” Mrs. Rhodes says, sweeping into the kitchen. “Don’t tell your daddy what you told me, you’ll give him a heart attack.” 

“I thought I was gonna give you a heart attack,” Rhodey says. 

She turns, eyes twinkling. 

“You got a lot of learning to do, young man. But go on to DC for me.” 

First stop: gas station. 

Next stop: saving Tony. 

- 

If Tony had known that his friend was so dedicated to saving him that he would drive his mama’s sedan five miles above the speed limit, perhaps he would have stayed put and played nice. 

But Tony did not know this, so he was currently working on fixing Barnes’ arm to shoot projectile missiles that looked like screws to the security cameras. 

“You think they’re counting each screw when none of them even know what your arm can actually do? Not like Zola is physically around anymore,” Tony mutters, holding a screwdriver in his mouth. 

“What’s your plan for escape?” 

“Element of surprise, my dear Watson.” 

“Don’t like that,” Barnes mutters. “What’s your plan once we’re out?” 

“New York City.” 

“That’s it?” 

“You underestimate exactly how much you can hide,” Tony says. “Believe me. We’ll live in an apartment in Queens.” 

- 

Rhodey is about ten minutes away. 

Tony and Bucky have eventually decided to break out, and are having a lovely time shooting a base and putting people through the walls. Really, they shouldn’t have made it out of drywall. Too easy. 

“What fucking vehicle are we taking?!” Barnes yells. 

“I...I will work on it!” 

“You didn’t think about that?!” 

“I was thinking about escaping from a shitty Hydra base!” 

- 

Here comes the sedan! 

- 

Rhodey thought there was only one person, so now the ex-assassin is sitting on his little sister’s school folder, and getting pink glittery on his military pants. 

This was not the plan. 

He is also still only going five over the speed limit, because this is Mama’s sedan. 

He forgot about the little sticker at the back that says “My Son is on the Honor Roll at MIT!” 

“Rhodey love of my life, please go faster than forty miles an hour,” Tony hisses. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive, let me do one thing at a time,” Rhodey stresses. “I bought you hot fries, they’re on the floor in the green bag.” 

“You thought of road trip snacks?” Bucky asks. 

“Yes! And who are you?” 

“Bucky Barnes.” 

Rhodey whips his head around. 

“You lived?” 

“I’ve been told. Eyes on the road and turn left.” 

One tire barely is on the road as he whips the wheel, slamming onto the curb. 

“We are not allowed to fuck my mama’s car up!” Rhodey yells. “Tony, Bucky...do whatever you have to.” 

“How amenable are you to me paying for a new back window?” Bucky asks, left arm already raising. 

“What do you mean-?” 

And...there goes a projectile! 

- 

After twenty minutes of driving around, ten of that being avoiding police blockades, they finally are out on the highway, no one in sight. 

Tony finally breathes. 

“Put on your seatbelt,” Rhodey murmurs. “To New York?” 

“To New York.” 

- 

By all accounts, the table of three men who look slightly rattled and in danger is not actually the worst table that waitress has ever had. 

In fact, the only odd thing that she’s going to say about it is that the young man on the left is wearing a polo shirt, and it is not Sunday, so no church services. A personal outfit choice. 

The man in the middle seems to know this. 

“Rhodey, seriously?” 

“What? It’s laundry day!” 

“I know you had other shirts. I know you did.” 

“Just because you hate polo shirts doesn’t mean you get to hate on me, especially after the shit I just pulled.” 

“He has a point,” says the man on the right. 

“You have no opinion on this. I just met you.” 

“Are you guys ready to order?” She asks nervously, tapping at her notepad with a chewed-up pen. 

They all stare blankly at the menu, and then back at her. She taps her pen one more time. 

“I’ll...um...give you some more time.” She shakes her head. She’s not gonna ask, she doesn’t get paid enough. 

-

Rhodey looks at the two of them. He knows that things...well. 

Tony probably isn’t going to be playing Jeopardy! with this experience. 

Hell, he probably won’t want to see a therapist about this, and Rhodey will have to play Jeopardy! or some obscure dating show simulation with Tony to even help. 

And then there’s the matter of a man who’s supposed to be dead. 

That and...Rhodey decided to finish up college with a master’s degree. 

No one ever said life was easy. 

But. 

It might be fun.