#this chapter is mostly just 'Ghost goes to have a chat with everyone'

[unfoundhoney]

a sister’s sacrifice ; part three ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst just angst

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat @bestioe @junoblad3 @machiebach @ok-honey

when considering the deaths of the people on the dream smp server, yours is the hardest

schlatt was detested by all when he’d died

few people still truly cared for wilbur when he met his end; the man he once was was long gone by then

but you

you never changed

you were a constant for so many & immovably kind to the rest

selfless, giving, caring

even when you just wanted an escape, you came to the aid of your brothers

you gave the ultimate sacrifice & paid the price

everyone mourns you

when the battle is won & dream locked away indefinitely

once everyone has come down from the high of freeing themselves from dream’s reign, the server goes into a state of grieving

there’s no denying your death

they all saw the message in chat

you’re dead

those that were close to you took it hard

niki was narrowly stopped from burning down the bakery you encouraged her to open and helped build

eret put her emotions into work on a memorial in their museum for you

even under the egg’s control, bad & ant put the eggpire aside for you

of course, those who took it the hardest is your family

when ghostbur learns of your death, he’s distraught

he doesn’t quite know how to handle the information

he protects your home & only allows people to enter when he supervises them

tommy took a while to move past his anger & deal with the fact that you’re gone

tubbo ran off to start snowchester

he chose to distract himself rather than truly process his emotions, even if you’d always done your best to break that habit of his

now that you’re not around, who’s to stop him from letting himself be numb to it all?

techno is another one of your family members who chose to barely acknowledge your passing

he became somehow more monotonous & emotionless

and phil

...

there’s no word for a parent who loses a child

wilbur was gone & of course it messed phil up to be the one to take will’s last life but by that point his son was gone

but you

you’d always been such a genuinely good person

phil did so little for you as a father

he was so absent

he never apologized to you for that

he never told you how much he loves & appreciates you & everything you’ve done to keep their family together when he couldn’t be bothered

it’s a few hours after he received the news from ranboo that all the guilt for everything he had ever put you through hit him

he broke down in his kitchen while trying to distract himself by organizing his cupboards

but all he could think about was you

you & your never ending kindness & compassion

he was never a father to you

yet you never hated him

why couldn’t you have hated him?

it would hurt less to lose you if you hated him; it’s what he deserves

he’s unworthy of your love

but he can only dwell so long on you

you are given a proper funeral

you’re buried by the seashore, somewhere between l’manberg and tommy’s abandoned vacation homes in an open field

the sever members plant so many flowers, your gravesite becomes a flower field

but soon, life goes on

it will only hurt for longer to draw out the mourning period

it would do no good for anyone

besides, you wouldn’t want the server to be sad for your sake

techno supposes it’s for the best that you died

he does his best to move on, filling his days with resource gathering and upgrading his tools, weapons, and armor while trying to think through his emotions logically

as much as he liked you

as much as everyone liked you, you were too good

you were the best of them

fate is not kind to heroes

“hello!”

technoblade is not an easy man to sneak up on, let alone scare

the greeting itself isn’t want startles him

it’s turning toward the voice to lock eyes with you

you who is dead

techno is not proud of the sound he made when he saw you but you of all people wouldn’t make fun of him for it

he just stares at you, slowly realizing what’s happened

you look desaturated, the color drained from your clothes

your skin is grey & almost translucent

you’re a ghost

“y/n.”

“hello! who are you?”

techno tells no on one of your ghost form

he even keeps the rest of the server a secret from you

he leads you to your old home & leaves you there w/ ghostbur

he hopes your and ghostbur’s combined amnesia will keep you out of harm’s way i.e. the rest of the server

he visits you occasionally but mostly leaves you be

you live happily with ghostbur for a while

he is very glad to have you back

his memory is nearly as bad as yours, so the story of the server & what happened to you when you were alive is only given to you in bits & pieces that are near impossible to fit together

it was only a matter of time before someone came to visit your house

“...y/n?”

it’s tubbo who finds you first

or he finds your ghost

(tubbo) y/n! oh my god! you’re a ghost! you’ve come back!

(you) hello! *whispers* ghostbur, who is this?

(ghostbur, whispering obviously) that’s tubbo, one of your other brothers i’ve told you about

(you, whispering) oh, right

(tubbo) how long have you- oh, this is incredible! i have to tell tommy! he’s been so sad since you died; he’ll be so glad to see you!

tubbo messages tommy, who is skeptical but reluctantly comes to your house anyway

but there you are

your ghost anyway

which is good enough, honestly

(tommy) y/n!

you catch him in a hug easily, even if you’ve never met him before

(tommy) you’re alive!

(you) no i’m not. i’m a ghost!

techno happens to check in on you when tubbo & tommy are there

bad news for technoblade: you’d told them about techno leading you here

meaning: tommy knows techno hid you from him & everyone else

needless to say, he is not too happy about that

(tommy) you hid her! you kept her away from us!

(techno) tommy, you have to understand-

(tommy) i don’t have to understand shit! you hid her from us! you lied to us!

(techno) tommy-

(tommy) you kept her from everyone! you’re selfish and you’re a liar and you’re horrible and-

(techno) i did it to protect her! she’s been hurt enough protecting others; it’s our turn to protect her. the only way we can do that is by leaving her alone

(tommy) she’s my sister

(techno) your sister is dead, tommy. for once in her life, let her have peace

tommy gives up on techno & goes to you instead

(tommy) y/n! y/n, we can bring you back. we can revive you. well, dream can revive you but he’s in prison so he has to do what we say so we can bring you back. we can be a family again. don’t you want to come back?

(you) ...no

that

...

that isn’t what tommy was expecting

(tommy) what?

(you) if alive y/n comes back, i won’t exist anymore. and i’ve only just got here. i don’t want to go yet

(tommy) don’t you understand how much y/n means to me? y/n has to come back. she has to. she’s so important. not just to me but to, um... tubbo as well! right, tubbo? don’t you want y/n back?

tommy looks to tubbo for some backup but the shorter boy looks away

(tubbo) i think we need to let y/n go, tommy

the betrayal that fills tommy’s chest is soon gone as he locks eyes with techno

tommy knows techno is right

you’re too much of a good person

you’re too willing to sacrifice yourself for others

even as a ghost your kindness is blinding

this server will only drain you of everything you have yet again

he will drain you of everything you are

he’s just tried to convince you to cease to exist to bring back the former version of yourself

(you) i’m sorry. it’s just- i’ve heard there are these really pretty blue flowers in the swamp biome that i haven’t got to see yet-

(tommy) no. it’s fine. i’m sorry. i-... i should go.

tommy leaves your house & tubbo goes with him

even if tubbo caught on a bit sooner to techno’s reasoning, he’s still concerned at his friend’s sudden change in character

(tubbo) tommy... are you alright?

(tommy) ...i really want her back

(tubbo) i do, too. but she’s gone

(tommy) she doesn’t have to be

tubbo can’t argue with that

(tommy) but... maybe it’s for the best

(tubbo) really?

(tommy) yeah.

(tubbo) but just earlier you were telling me about your plan to get the revive book from dream

(tommy) techno’s right, tubbo. all everyone- myself included- has ever done to y/n is take. and she’s given everything

(tubbo) because she loved us

(tommy) as much as she loved us and as much as we loved her... the only thing we’ve ever brought her is pain. i think now... now is her time to rest.

(tubbo) ...that’s very pog champ of you, big man

tommy had planned to visit dream as many times as it took to get the revive book location off of him so he could revive you, but now he’s accepted that he needs to move on

he needs to move on from you & dream & everything dream has put him through

he decides to pay one last visit to dream, put him behind him, & never look back

he’s ready to start a new chapter in his life, one without dream

and the first one without you

but then he’s locked in the prison

two weeks pass

nearing three weeks & tommy still isn’t allowed out of dream’s cell

he’s irritated and annoyed and most of all he’s scared

but he can’t let dream know he’s still afraid of him, that’s why he pisses dream off enough to the point of being beat to death

tommy begs him to stop

but then he’s gone

everything is dark

black

empty

nothing

is this what death is?

conscious in absolute nothingness?

tommy’s feet feel the ground beneath him

his senses come back to him

it’s still dark but he feels as though he can see again

where is he?

heaven?

no, probably hell

or maybe neither?

both...?

what the hell happened?

the first thing to break the silence is the voice tommy has known since he was an infant

the voice of the person who raised him

the voice of the person who has always been there for him

the voice of the person who he has finally let go of

your voice

saying one simple word

“tommy?”

[georgiaandfriends]

Heroes of Hogwarts- Will gets a heart attack

Nico's POV

I wake up to the sound of the stolls talking a toilet out of the big house. It really loud way louder than I would like, but I have to wake up anyway. I promised my sunshiney boyfriend I'd meet him in the infirmary today. I sigh and go to get ready. Unlike will I don't take 16 years on my hair so I'm out in no time. I Walk into the infirmary. I'm immediately hit with the smell of cleaning products and ambrosia. I see will push past a couple of people as he approached me.

"Hey death boy, couldn't get enough of me?" Will said, smirking at me. I just scoff at him, pretending a bunch of skeletal butterflies didn't resurrect in my stomach. Me and will chat for a while sorting medicine and taking care of patients, until I get get scared to death, pun intended.

"HOWS YOUR HEART!" Kizuka said making will jump 3 feet in the air.

"You almost gave will a heart attack" I say, trying to regain my composure.

"You got scared too-" will says condescendingly Kizuka laughs."Jeez! I guess even the ghost king gets scared, sorry neeks" she said smiling.

"What do you want kizuka I'm not giving you any more illegal fire works.." I said crossing my arms.

"Neeks be nice." Will says using my head as an armrest.

"Fine, but don't call me neeks both of you." I said glaring at Kizuka.

"Whatever neeks! Chiron wants us at the big house, come on lovebirds!" Kizuka said walking out of the infirmary. I grabbed wills wrist and we shadow traveled to the big house.

"Nico! What did I say about -" I kissed will to shut him up and we headed inside. Chiron was in wheel chair form, seemingly waiting for us. Besides him, there was also Kizuka and Skylar, as well as a regal looking woman with a powerful presence.

"Now that everyone's here we can start." Chiron said, he seemed nervous though he was hiding it pretty well.

"I'm sure you have already figured it out by now but lady hectate is sending you on a quest." Chiron said earning a collective groan from the demigods. The lady, who I assume is hectate stepped forward.

"For your quest you will be going to my pet world, where you will go to a school called Hogwarts, the mortals in this world have magic much like my children, yet less powerful." Hectate said.

"What's the objective, of the quest I mean." Skylar says, I forgot she was here. "Good question young demigod." Hectate said looking at Skylar. "You will be hunting down horcuruxes, split pieces of the soul to avoid death. These horcurxes belong to a dark wizard called Voldemort, make sure you destroy them, and while you're there you should look after Harry Potter, he's destine to defeat Voldemort, and he causes trouble." Hectate finished explaining everything about this wizarding world, and she tells us we're leaving tomorrow. Me and will head back towards the hades cabin, I told him it's so he can help me pack, but mostly just want to spend time with him with him before we go on this quest.

"Hey death breath" Will says stopping in front of the hades cabin. "Yes tesero?" I look at his sky blue eyes.

"Please be careful, you know on this quest," will says grabbing my wrist.

"Of course." I say.

"You promise?" Will says holding out his pinky.

"Promise". So me and will headed into the hades cabin, and prepared for the next day.

Hey! Hope y'all liked that! I found an old notebook with a solangelo goes to Hogwarts thingy in it so I decided to rewrite it. Also I know putting your ocs in one of these is kind of cliche but I couldn't resist - stay tuned for the next chapter!

[lnterjection]

Sleepy Bois Inc and DSMP Fanfic Recs

Uhhh I realized I have a ton of stuff in my bookmarks list and might as well compile a list of favorites because I’m always looking for good fanfics, and this might help some people. Most of these are SBI, though a few focus on things other than their dynamic with each other. Nothing explicit here. Feel free to suggest more recs. 

Fics set in DSMP universe/about DSMP (One-shots first, then longer fics):

One-shots and series of one-shots-

therein lies the madness by sapphicist - 2095 words. Currently says it’s one chapter out of three complete, but can be read as a standalone one-shot. Nice introspective fic on Tommy’s exile and his parallels with Theseus. In 2nd person, but it’s actually done nicely. Mostly angsty, can have hopeful interpretation depending on how you look at it. 

crazy how life goes on without me (2090 words, one-shot) by itisjosh - What if Ghostbur did remember everything, and just pretended to be clueless and vapid? Made me cry. It’s so good. Tortured my heart. 

the inner mechanism of a black box (13521 words, one-shot) by Bee_4 - only work of a series called “system theory”. “Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault. There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.” Yeah so Techno’s mental health goes out the window in this one and its written brilliantly. There’s comfort at the end, if it helps? 

A State For One Man Is No State At All (5247 words, two-shot) by angstfortheangstgod - “A different version of the festival, in which Dream shows up unarmed, the Community House is left intact, a traitor is executed, and Tommy doesn't betray Technoblade.” Ranboo centric. Angst and comfort. 

All the Kings Men series by MollyPollyKinz - “After Ghostbur's suggestion to do Lads on Tour, Tommy finds himself reunited with his family. However, escaping from Dream is going to be harder than anyone previously thought.” A connected series of one-shots and short fics about Tommy, his exile, his family, and escaping Dream. Well written, good characterization, great studies into the characters themselves.

ad astra per aspera series by cacowhistle - Collection of one-shots that start with Tommy’s exile and expand to be about SBI and their dynamic with each other, including a resurrected Wilbur. Really, really well written and probably my favorite of the “Tommy exile fic groups”. 

the fall of a hero series by cracklesnaple - “After being threatened with being exiled yet again, Tommy takes the decision into his own hands. If those around him can't see that he's given up everything to make this nation what it is, then he's not sure he can stay in L'Manburg any longer.” Series about SBI and mainly Tommy, eventually crossing over into Mianite territory in a way some might enjoy and some might now. Writing’s good, though, which is what I care about.

Longer fics-

Rewind (101002 words, 25 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by Anonymous - Best time travel fix-it fic I’ve ever read period. Tubbo and Tommy travel 10 years back from a very messed up future to the first L’Manberg election. Concept may seen a bit weird at first but trust me, holy fuck this is amazing. 

second chances (hurt the most) (8841 words, 4 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by Anonymous - “Wilbur wakes up alone in a bloody room, and has to come to terms with living again. (How can he go on, knowing who's blood is on his hands?)”. Amazing fic where resurrection requires someone else’s life as sacrifice. Phil is dead. Wilbur struggles to come to terms with his father’s decision, and his second chance. 

all scotch, no soda (47466 words, 43 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 14 2021) by fishstixx - “Vulnerability meant trust, though, and trust was a thing not so easily given. Post-exile and canon divergent, follows the consequences of Tommy’s isolation. Expect chases, heists, bloodshed, and the mending of a family.” Features raccon hybrid Tommy being badass, and I live for it. I really, really love this one. 

DON’T FORGET THAT ICARUS FLEW. (16426 words, 6/10 chapters, last updated Jan 1. 2021) by orpheusaki - “The day before and the days that follow Tommy's exile; told through the eyes of The Blood God.” Techno (and Dream) is a god, and gods often forget how the intricacies of the minds of mortals. He’s trying to get better, however. 

what do you fall for? (16374 words, complete) by tablrcloth - Ranboo centric fic with Techno, Phil and Tommy. Ranboo realizes that playing L’Manberg’s politics is less than ideal for him. What can I say, it’s just really good. 

Breathing’s Just a Rhythm (12631 words, 6 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 17 2021) by MollyPollyKinz - “Tommy, Tubbo, Jschlatt, and Dream all end up in the past. (Oh, and the Chat comes too).” Great time travel fic. 

What World Have We Inherited? (73635 words, 12 chapters, unfinished and last updated on Dec 22 2020) by Anonymous (this one has a series with all their works, and they’re all AMAZING). Holy fuck this one is probably one of my favorite fics in the fandom so far. “Wilbur blows everything to hell on the day of the Manburg festival, just like he wanted. When the ashes settle, it's just Tommy and Technoblade. It's not good, but it's better than nothing. It's just them, healing up in a world that never wanted them.” Amazing characterization, worldbuilding, everyone’s internal thoughts are portrayed and written so well. Even if it never updates again I would keep coming back to it. I rec this Anon’s works so much. 

In June, I Changed My Tune (29489 words, 6 chapters, unfinished and last updated on Jan 6 2021) by KryOnBlock - Eret runs away and eventually becomes friends with Techno. Nice cottagecore aesthetic. I have mixed feelings about this one - the writing’s good, descriptions and characterizations are really good. Just that there’s consistent punctuation mistakes and it takes me out of the world a bit. Everything else is good enough for me to continue reading, however. 

stay with him (24353 words, 12 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 9 2021) by junipersand - I especially rec the first chapter, which can be read (and originally was) a standalone fic with the summary “Every ghost had a purpose to fulfill. So what was Tommy’s?” Utterly heartwrenching, probably the most emotionally gut-punching bit of writing I’ve ever read in this fandom. It continues with other lore stuff afterwards that eventually branch off from just SBI and Tommy, but man. I don’t think I can ever forget that first chapter. 

I’m not angry at you, well, sometimes I am (52801 words, 16 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 14 2021) by sircantus - After Tommy is exiled, he runs away to Techno’s house instead of going off with Dream. SBI decide some revenge and “world domination” is in order. 

Fics set in AUs outside DSMP happenings:

One-shots and series of one-shots-

Empty Crowns AU by UnderUrsa - the SBI + Tubbo are gods, and a family. Series of one-shots. Nicely written, what can I say? Some angst, some fluff.

Secure, Contain, Protect AU by blue000jay - Amazingly written SCP AU. Knowledge of the SCP universe would help with understanding some more meta things, but is not needed to understand most of it. Some angst, disturbing themes around memories but nothing terribly gory.

CLASSIFIEDS. (13804 words, finished). SCP pages on SBI, short stories and audio transcriptions as well as files, lots of good lorebuilding here. Features an escape, + Tubbo!

CONFIDENTIALS. (13232 words, finished). Centers on Dream Team.

ARCHIVES. (1270 words, one-shot). What happened after SBI and Tubbo’s escape from the SCP foundation.

old gods (new gods) AU by WriterWinged - the relatively well known SBI gods AU. Amazingly written, great character interpretations. 

the gods are cruel (none crueler then you) (1394 words, one-shot) - As much the grammatical mistake in the title hurts me it’s no doubt one of the best pieces of work in the fandom. 

and yet they find kindness (and so do you) (2/4 chapters posted) - continuation of “the gods are cruel”. 

there’s a risk to the world (but the kindest are strongest) (2/3 chapters posted) - continuation of “the gods are cruel”. 

SBI Antarctic Princes AU by ScripWriter -  One of several Antarctic Empire AUs, this one just has these two preliminary one-shots but they’re nice bits of fun and neatly written. All fluff and mild hurt with lots of comfort so far. 

Younger Holding On Another (1781 words, one-shot). Techno is a good brother and reassures and newly adopted Tommy. 

But Oh, Don’t You Know How It Goes (2511 words. one-shot). Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur have some “fun” at a boring gala. Phil is very exasperated. 

Antarctic Princes ‘verse AU by BirchWrites - AU where Techno, Tommy, and Wilbur are princes of the Antarctic Empire (well, Techno’s technically the emperor now), but this time the events of DSMP still happen (at least up to the 1st season).

Homeward bound for the arctic ground (10562 words, one-shot). Wilbur and Tommy travel to the Antarctic Empire in person to ask Techno for help in fighting Schlatt. Good worldbuilding and acknowledges Wilbur’s beginnings of insanity while still being rather light.

Surprise Hugs (2542 words, one-shot). Dream doesn’t realize Tommy is Techno’s brother and thinks he’s going to get killed for tackling the infamous Blood God.

Family Reunions (1396 words, one-shot). Fundy never realized he’s loyalty and Techno informs him unexpectedly.

Longer fics-

leave me your starlight (14620 words, 4 chapters, unfinished and last updated Jan 11 2021) by findingkairos - “Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war. This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.“ Amazing backstory fic on Phil and Techno’s relationships, one of my absolute personal favorites. Very well written and really digs into the intricacies of Techno’s character (or an interpretation of it, but hey, that’s what all fanfiction is).

I was a kid in a village, doing alright, then I became a prince overnight (21736 words, 5 chapters, last updated Jan 13 2021) by sircantus - another Antarctic princes AU, this time centering on 16 year old Tommy catching the attention of Phil, Techno, and Wilbur after thwarting an assassination attempt. Really well written. Actually, I rec all of sircantus’ SBI stuff because they do amazing work.

antarctic adage (26591 words, 4/7 chapters posted, last updated Jan 13 2021) by blue000jay - Another very well written Antarctic princes AU with Emperor/ruler Phil. Are we seeing a pattern yet? blue000jay is another writer I’d rec, with really great SBI stuff.

a renewal of faith, and of family (56684 words, 31 chapters, unfinished, last updated Jan 13 2021) by SolivangantStories - One of the only fics here that doesn’t feature SBI, this one is Tubbo and Dream centered. Basically, the DSMP!Tubbo is executed by Schlatt and wakes up in a world where Manhunt!Dream is trying not to die and is also actually a nice person, to Tubbo’s surprise and confusion. Not SBI and technically not even DSMP, but it’s really good so I’ve decided to rec it anyway.

[star-spangledstud]

MIND GAMES - THREE

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The team goes on a mission. You meet someone who might expose you. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence 

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :) Sorry for being MIA for so long. I’ve been sad. Blegh. 

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

Over the few days that follow, you become increasingly paranoid. It’s your own fault, because you shouldn’t have lied to the people that have welcomed you into their homes with open arms, but lying is a survival skill that you were taught many years ago, and old habits die hard. You become shadowy, avoid team members in the hallways and common areas of the penthouse floor you all share, and stay in your room as much as possible without alarming anyone. Of course Natasha knows something is up, but Steve doesn’t, and he waves off her concern as you simply ‘needing more time to adjust, Nat’. You watch their body language during breakfast – one of two meals a day you simply cannot get out of without causing anyone’s alarm bells to start ringing – and engage in light conversation wherever possible to keep them out of your hair.

Guilt gnaws at your insides when you find yourself wandering the deserted wrap-around balcony at nearly 3 a.m., brain searching for a clue to any bad things that might happen. If any one of them figures out you’re ex-hydra you’re done for, that much you know, but the man with golden hair and twinkling azure eyes might just be your ticket to safety.

The thought alone sickens you, because you vowed never to mess with someone’s feelings to get what you need ever again. It’s a twisted thought, but the vines of its root wrap themselves around the stem of your brain nonetheless.

A month after first moving in, you’ve already figured out their routines. Steve’s the early riser of the bunch, getting up every morning at 6:30 a..m. sharp to go on a run around the city. On rare occasions, he manages to convince Sam to come along with him, but more often than not, he remains in his bed until at least 10 o’clock, when Steve’s already come back to shower and get dressed for the day. Tony and Bruce are in the lab 24/7, both of them constantly bickering about artificial intelligence and microbiology among other matters you can’t even begin to understand. As a result, you don’t see them around too often, a notion you don’t particularly mind. Clint left to be with his family two weeks ago and hasn’t been back since, and Natasha leaves all the time, sometimes for days at a time. You don’t dare to ask anyone where she goes when she disappears, but nobody seems surprised to find her seat at the dining table empty again.

It’s a gloomy day when you wake up to find the entire place void of all life. Not even Steve, who’s adamant about his morning coffee, is there to grace you with his presence when you walk into the kitchen that Saturday morning. The counter is clean, no empty coffee cups, half-eaten bowls of oatmeal or bread crumbs to indicate anyone’s eaten yet, and all of the chairs are still perfectly lined against the table.

Your pulse involuntarily quickens to an uncomfortable pace, and you bite the inside of your cheek until the metallic taste of blood is heavy on your tongue. With quick steps, you walk towards the common room, footsteps loud in your ears when you consider where they might be. As expected, there’s nobody there. The TV is switched off, there are no dents in the heavy fabric of the couch from where Steve usually sits, and again, no empty cups or bowls can be found on the coffee table. You have the jitters when you finally get to the library, which is again void of all life.

Black socks covered in small holes squeak across the wooden floors when you walk around the room. It’s not surprising to see the library vacant. You’re sure Avengers have more pressing matters to tend to than reading books on any given day, but it was your last hope nonetheless. With your head tilted to the side, you focus on scanning the titles that line the walls. You follow every shelf in the room until your eye finally catches something. You take the book with a sigh, flip through its tattered pages, and wonder for a moment which one of the Avengers has read the crap out of Pride and Prejudice. Definitely not Sam, judging by his internal monologue. That guy doesn’t appear to have an ounce of romanticism inside him.  

 “They’re out,” a gentle voice suddenly says behind you, “Steve didn’t want to wake you up this morning to tell you.”

You slap your hand over your heart in surprise, and inhale sharply, “Jesus Christ, doc. You scared the hell out of me.”

Bruce throws his hands up in the air and shrugs his shoulders, “Sorry, it’s just me.”

“Are they on a mission?” you ask, feeling your heart jump in your chest like a skippy ball.

“Yeah, they should be back in a few days. Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You swallow thickly, noticing all of a sudden how your mouth is dry like sandpaper, “you just spooked me, that’s all. What kind of mission is it?”

“Intel gathering, in an out. That’s why I didn’t come. They only bring me when they need the green guy,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” you reply slowly, “how’s he holding up?”

“Asleep,” Bruce smiles, then clears his throat, “for now, anyway. Would you like to get some breakfast?”

You follow Bruce through the rain, which started to gust from the grey sky just as you were getting dressed. You’d rather have said no, but you knew you couldn’t; it wouldn’t be polite to decline his offer. Besides, he’s oblivious, and for whatever reason, he trusts you. When he bites into his chocolate croissant, you know why – Steve’s let you in. This notion once more confirms the thoughts that have been occupying your mind for the last week; Steve is your one-way ticket to inclusivity.

You shudder at the thought and fake a smile before taking a large sip of coffee. The cafe is small, mostly empty, and your seat by the window gives you a perfect view of pedestrians struggling in the howling, icy wind. One year ago, you could never have imagined yourself sitting in a café with a cup of coffee clutched between your fingers, chatting with someone who you could potentially call a friend. The idea alone of being able to enjoy a warm mug filled with freshly brewed coffee would’ve sounded preposterous to you.

There was no warmth with HYDRA. Only cold.

It takes the team three days to return from their mission. Three long days, during which you spend most of your time with Bruce in his lab, perched on a desk-chair with a book in your hands while he works on – actually, you have no idea what he’s working on. You quickly grow to become fond of him, because he doesn’t feel the need to constantly fill the silence between you with empty words. His thoughts are coherent, focused on his project, and the lingo is too advanced for you to understand, which makes it easy to drown out. His inner monologue is quiet, except for a few angry words from the Hulk when Bruce becomes frustrated with his work, but that only happened on day two, and only for ten minutes.

Steve smells like gun powder and sweat when he hugs you softly against his chest after exiting the Quinjet. Natasha waves at you, and the smile that dons her dirt-caked face surprises you, but you return it nonetheless. Sam even ruffles your hair, causes a sound to escape your throat that you haven’t heard yourself make in over a decade; a strange combination of a snort and a chuckle that sounds like music to your own ears. Your heart pounds again, but in a good way this time, because for a small moment in time, you’ve managed to put the guilt on the back-burner. The roaring engine behind you falls silent at last, and nobody else visibly exits the plane before you make it inside.  

“You held up okay?” Steve asks as he follows you back inside the building.

You nod in response and shove your hands deep inside the pockets of your hoodie, “I’ve been helping Bruce with his research.”

“Oh, did you? How’s it coming?” he asks.

His eyes sparkle like two tiny stars even through the exhaustion that nearly forces them shut every time he blinks. He’s exhausted, you can tell, and you have to bite your tongue before you make a comment about the state he’s in.

“I mostly sat there while he did all the thinking. Turns out computer science isn’t really my thing after all.”

Steve fights a yawn that threatens to overcome him, and nods, “yeah, I feel you. I can barely get the damn things to start. I’ve given up on technology.”

He turns back to face you when he’s come to a halt in front of his room.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you where I went,” he tells you, meaning it as he says it, “we kinda left in a hurry, and you were still sleeping.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “I understand.”

He quickly retreats after that, leaving you once again with nothing to do. You go back to your room to grab the worn copy of Pride and Prejudice from your nightstand and, after plopping down on your bed, flip to the page where you last left off. You read for a while, before the idea to make some tea with warm milk and honey pops into your head, and you skip along the hallway to the kitchen with the book securely wrapped in your arms.

You’re surprised to hear Steve’s voice when you enter the common area, and a smile appears on his face the second his eyes fall on you. You raise one arm to wave at him, but a loud gasp and a large thud followed by the sound of breaking glass have you freezing on the spot before you can open your mouth to greet him at all.

Your head snaps towards the source of the sound, causing your neck to twist and crack painfully. Red, glowing eyes meet your large ones when you dare to look up at whoever made the noise, and the book in your hands falls to the ground with a loud bang that startles everyone in the room. You stumble backwards when you can feel the woman standing before you deep inside of your head, and you nearly trip over the rug when you instinctly try to get away from her. Frantically, you scramble to stop her from seeing more than she’s already seen. Still, by the time you manage to build up a mental barrier to keep her out of your head, it’s already too late.

You haven’t seen her before, and you can’t remember for the life of you if the image of her has popped up in any of the Avengers’ heads. Your brain is mushy, images hazy as you try to focus on keeping the woman from digging around deeper. You can see distant memories of your time with HYDRA flash before her eyes, and the images blur with the present in a spasm that makes your eyes water.

Wanda Maximoff lets out a shrill, piercing shriek, one that chills everyone to the bone. Thor, who you didn’t even know was there, is by her side before she can collapse onto the cold, hard floor, and Steve jumps up from his chair before you have time to register his movements. He grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen, fingers digging painfully in your tender flesh when he pulls you away from the scene. Sympathy fills Sam’s dark brown eyes when you turn back around to look at him, and guilt roils in your stomach when the redhead sinks to her knees with tears streaming down her face.

Your arms hang limply to your side when you watch Steve pace back and forth around his room. You’re waiting for him to yell at you, to tell you to get the fuck out of the compound and never return, but he remains awfully quiet. His silence confuses and unnerves you simultaneously.

His eyes, swimming with unimaginable depth, find your face while the scent of his cologne and pure testosterone invades your nostrils. Pressure clamps down on your chest, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to shiver. Never in your entire life have you wanted to read someone’s mind more. 

“Are you alright?” your head cocks to the side, mouth twitching while you try to find words. 

You nearly gave that woman an aneurysm, and he’s asking you if you’re okay?

“Yes,” you stammer, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Wanda is telepathic,” Steve says, “she has trouble controlling what she sees sometimes.” 

“Like I said, I’m so so-” 

A soft exhale leaves your lips when Steve’s hands find their way to your shoulders, and your voice dies down in your throat when he bends down slightly to meet your eyes. Calloused fingertips penetrate the thin material of your t-shirt, and the warmth of his hands creates a buzzing sensation just beneath your skin. 

“She was in Europe, scouting the location of the mission with Rhodey. She’s been in Eastern Europe for a while, that’s why you haven’t seen her. I should’ve told you about her.”

“Will she be okay?” you ask. You hardly recognize your own voice. 

“Sam’s got her. She’s stronger than she looks. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.” 

You don’t know how to respond. You crave a cigarette all of a sudden, even though you don’t smoke. Alcohol then, maybe, to numb down the prickling sensation of firing synapses and goosebumps that line your bare arms. Yeah, a good couple of shots of whiskey will do the trick. Not vodka though, you hate that stuff. 

You bite your bow-shaped lips and inhale deeply. Steve is so close that you can feel his breath fanning across your face. It’s wrong, being so near him after what just happened. You’re on thin ice. It won’t be long before the entire team, undoubtedly informed by what Wanda just saw, comes barging into Steve’s room, ready to drag you away to prison or worse, put a bullet through your skull. You deserve it, you think, for what you used to do. For who you used to be. You almost want somebody to call you out on your shit, because then at least you wouldn’t have to hide it anymore. 

But seconds turn into minutes, and nobody comes. It’s quiet, except for the sound of Steve’s breathing and the steady beating of his heart, and you realize when he looks at you with sympathy and sincerity that you hate yourself for lying. It’s an ironic realization, because lying is like second nature to you. HYDRA spent so much time ingraining it into your brain that it’s become almost like a second language, a means of communication that flows so naturally that you don’t even have an accent anymore. It’s brought you many things, and ruined even more people.

Your hands are going numb from how hard you’re clenching them into fists. Steve’s thumbs are rubbing small circles on your shoulders, and it takes all of your effort not to shake them off. You’re disgusted with yourself, bile threatening to rise to the back of your throat while the sensation of his warm fingers on you is the only thing left for you to feel. The world is dark and cold, but the heat radiating from Steve’s hands is just enough to stop you from getting frostbite. The concern is evident on his face, from the deep crease between his brows to the thin line of his lips; he’s worried about you, someone he doesn’t even know. Someone he would kill if he’d met you under any other circumstances.

You want to go home, you think to yourself, but as soon as the thought appears do you smack it down with your fist. You don’t have a home, you scold yourself, just like the doctors would tell you when you cried and screamed on the dingey operating table in the early days, when they didn’t control you yet. When they still wore their special masks to stop you from controlling their minds so they could freely fuck with yours.

It’s an icy reality, one that rattles you to your core every time it makes an appearance. Steve’s eyes are still scanning your face, which is twisted and contorted into a painful scowl before you even realize what’s happening.

An inexplicable panic washes over you, heart jackhammering in your chest while your cheeks turn a sickly shade of pink. A bead of sweat rolls down your back, followed by cold shivers that envelop your skin in ice. The scent of laundry detergent and cologne hits you like a truck, and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from gagging.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice melting and morphing into the sound of rain slamming against the window like gunfire.

“My head,” you cry out in a desperate whimper, “it hurts.”

Steve forces your body down onto his bed, and while you begin to writhe in pain that causes white spots to dance in front of your eyes, he closes the curtains to keep the light from coming in. His mother had head aches all the time, and she’d be in bed for days on end if they got bad enough. He remembers her clear as day, lying in bed with an empty bucket next to her on the floor in the dark, because the light hurt so bad it would make her vomit sometimes. He’d tiptoe around the house because the sound of his feet creaking across the floorboards would pain her. He recognizes her in you, lying on his bed with your hands clutching the sides of your head.

“I’ll get you some aspirin,” he says, quieting his voice, the incident with Wanda long forgotten as instinct takes over.  

Tears blur your vision at this point, and it takes every ounce of focus that you have left to keep yourself from screaming out in pain. Aspirin won’t help, but you don’t possess the capability to tell him not to bother. You’ve experienced this type of pain before, and have endured it without medicine each time. Many times actually; while you were forced to extract information from the people taken and captured by HYDRA with whatever means necessary. This time however, it’s come as a surprise and it’s caught you completely off-guard, although you suspect Wanda’s poking and prodding has something to do with it.

With all the strength you have left, you manage to pull the covers over your head, engulfing yourself in darkness and warmth to drown out your senses. The sudden darkness is disorienting, but you welcome it with open arms. Steve opens his mouth, but shuts it, and heads for the door without uttering another word.

All you hear when Steve exits the room is the sound of your former victims crying out in despair.

NEXT CHAPTER.

TAGLIST:

@foxyjwls007​ @littlegasps​ @hurricane-abigail​ @idk123906​ @ bubblicious-trashcan @wooya1224

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Don’t Go Running Off Into Danger, Even If I Do

Randon idea for a DP (Danny Phantom) GF (Gravity Falls) crossover. I’ve been browsing Tumblr tags for way too long and whatever. This, unlike the neighbourhood phantom fic from earlier, will have multiple chapters. Also, Danny is sixteen and Dipper and Mabel are fouteen.

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Chapter One

The fight with Skulker was a long one. Maybe that was an understatement. Sam and Tucker were both out of town and he was stuck with Wes and the ghosts alone. Well, Wes wasn’t exactly an issue, but if he somehow got proof, Danny would be in a pickle. He set down in the alleyway and stared at the tattered remains of his jumpsuit. Whatever. Street clothes Phantom would have to do for now. Danny sighed and the glaringly visible binder. At least Skulker hadn’t seen. With a twirl of his fingers, the tattered jumpsuit becam a pullover hoodie with the Phantom logo and ripped jeans. Once the clothing change was done and it didn’t seem like anyone was watching, he transformed. As his luck would have it, he heard a gasp. Luckily, it wasn’t someone he knew. 

~~~~~~~~~

Mabel and Dipper had just moved to Amity Park to live with their Aunt Molly. Dipper was excited because he’d heard that there was a lot of paranormal activity here. Mostly ghosts but still. What he wasn’t expecting was to see a boy with white hair wearing a black sweatshirt turn into one with black hair and a red tee. Both he and Mabel gasped. The boy cursed under his breath and turned around. “Oh thank god. At least you aren’t anyone who knows me. Welcome to Amity Park!” The boy seemed stressed.  “What was that! That’s so cool!” Dipper said excitedly. “Listen, I’ll tell you, but you gotta promise to keep it a secret. What do you know about Amity so far?”  “Just that it’s a hotspot for paranormal activity, nothing like Gravity Falls, but alot happens here,” Dipper said and pulled out the journal to write info down. “I don’t really know what Gravity Falls is, but Amity is a hotspot for ghosts. Mostly cause my parent made a portal in the basement of my house. So, you know nothing about Danny Phantom?” “I think I might’ve heard rumours on the street?” Mabel says. She was staring at the boy. Great, a new crush.  “Well, Danny Phantom, who just so happens to be my alter ego, goes around dealing with the ghost threats and making sure Amity doesn’t get completely destroyed. My name’s Danny Fenton by the way,” “Don’t you think that’s kinda obvious?” Dipper scribbled a picture of Danny into the journal. “Nah. Even my own parents don’t know, and they’re the ‘leading experts’ in the field of ectobiology and ghost hunting,”  “The what now?” Mabel said. “Study of ghosts. Heck, the portal wouldn’t even be open if I hadn’t half died when turing it on,” Danny laughed. “You died?” Mabel stared at him. “Yes and no. Nobody knows Danny Phantom is only half ghost except fucking Vlad and the rest of the ghosts,” “Who’s Vlad?” Dipper was curious. “Ah, Vlad Masters. Mayor of Amity Park. Pretentious billionare. Creep trying to get into my mom’s pants. Oh, and Plasmious on the side. Could you believe that my parents created two half ghosts?” “We let a dream demon into our world a couple summers ago,” Mabel said. “Mabel, that violates the Never Mind All That Act,”  “He’s been through weird stuff too!” “I mean, I fought an all powerful ghost king that sucked Amity into the Ghost Zone,” “Fair enough,” Dipper conceded. Danny looked down at his watch.  “Listen, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m gonna miss curfew. And Skulker needs to go home before he figures out a way out of the Fenton Thermos,” “Wait! Where can we find you?” “Look for the big glowing FentonWorks sign. It’s impossible to miss. And don’t mention the Phantom thing to my parents. They want to rip me apart molecule by molecule as is!” “Are you sure that’s enough direction?” Dipper was skeptical. “You couldn’t miss FentonWorks if you wanted to,” He laughed and ran off. Dipper had half a thought to follow him, but they had to get to Aunt Molly’s. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny ran to FentonWorks. He probably would’ve flown if he’s though of it or if he wasn’t concerned about getting caught. The kids weren’t from Amity at least. He managed to get in just as his curfew alarm went off. “Daniel, you almost missed curfew!” his Mom said. “Yeah, but I didn’t!” Danny said triumphantly. “No, I suppose you didn’t,” She sighed and went back to whatever blueprints she was drawing up. If it mattered, he’d find out. Once he was certain she was distracted, he went down to the lab and stuck the thermos in the attachment.  “Dann-o! You catch a ghost?” Fuck. Danny turned to his dad. “Nah. But I left my thermos out accidentally. I put it in just in case someone caught one with it,” He was getting way too good at lying.  “Oh well. It’s good to see you got back in time,” Dad pulled Danny into a bone crushing hug. “Dad! I gotta get my binder off before you can break my ribs!” Dannt squeaked out. “Oh right. Sorry Dann-o. Go get changed,” Dad put Danny down and gave him a slap on the back. Ow. Danny rushed upstairs. He wrangled the binder off and flopped back on the bed once he put his shirt back on. Jazz poked her head in. “Hi Danny!” She said cheerily.  “Sup, Jazz Spazz,” He sat up. He had a burn on his thigh from the fight. “Keep in mind only you can call me that. Finally catch ‘Ghost X’?” She said. Danny snorted.  “I’m going to kill you if you call Skulker that seriously ever again. Yeah, I caught him. A couple of newbies saw me transform though. Now I have to explain stuff to them so they keep my secret,” “Well, at least they won’t tell!” “Jazz, always looking on the bright side,” Danny pretend narrated. They both giggled.  “Well, Mom and Dad are gonna be out giving protection to the people tonight,” “Planning sesh! Yes. I can fix the jumpsuit,” “Oh geez, what happened to it?” “Just got shredded. Skulker didn’t see anything, but still,” “Oh. I’ll get the sewing supplies,” She walked into her room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper and Mabel walked into Aunt Molly’s house.  “Hey kids! Glad to see you got here in one piece!” She rushed over to them and kissed their heads. “Yup. We’re here. Hey, Aunt Molly, do you know where FentonWorks is? We met someone who said they lived there today,” Mabel said. “Oh, that eyesore. Nothing against Jack and Maddie, but they could really use some decorating help. Who did you talk to? Jazz or Danny?” “Does everyone in town know them or something?” Dipper was shocked. “Well of course. Fenton tech is the best protection from ghosts other than Phantom,” “Well, it was a guy, so Danny I’m guessing,” Mabel said. Of course it was Danny. “Ah, Daniel. Poor kid. Dash Baxter needs to leave him alone. Runs at the sight of a ghost. If you ever need to get to his place, I can give you a ride,” Molly sighed. Dipper would’ve thought more in depth about it if there wasn’t a loud knock on the door.  “That must be the Fentons. I forgot it was safety tech day,” She opened the door. A man in an orange jumpsuit came in. He was massive. But the black hair and blue eyes were recognizable. A woman came in behind him. She was in a teal jumpsuit.  “Jack, Maddie! Come in. These are my neice and nephew, Mason and Mabel,” “Can you call me Dipper?” He turned to Molly. “I thought you would at least introduce yourself formally,” Molly sighed.  “Ah, new kids. Remember kids, if you see the menice of that ghost boy, you stay clear. Town might make him out to be a hero, but he’s not!” Jack said. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Poor Danny.  “Alright, that’s not why we’re here. Do you want a ghost shield to keep the kids safe Molly?” Maddie pulled out a strange contraption.  “You know, that doesn’t sound like a horrible plan. I don’t know why you bother with yours when you have a portal in your basement,” “We close the portal most times,” Maddie seemed offended.  “Oh well. I’ll take a few lipstick lazer and wrist blasters with that,” Molly placed the contraption on the shelf and Maddie pulled some lipsticks and weird blaster thingies out of her bag. The Fentons left. “Don’t listen to them about Phantom. They have prejudices against him for no reason. He’s saved our town too many times to count. The least they can do is stop threatening to dissect him!” Molly scoffed. Dipper went pale. But he didn’t have time to think about it. They had school in the morning.

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 22

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger! Go read Something’s Different About You Lately and all her other fics!

Life goes on.

Martin is shaken from his thoughts.

Martin’s footsteps did not ring out against the interior of the lighthouse. The sound did not bounce around and up the spire to return in earnest, filling the hollow space with noise as he walked. Around him the walls absorbed every sound, every scratch of his pen. Or maybe he’d just learned to quiet himself. It was difficult to tell at times.

Whether or not the place had changed didn’t matter. The echoes had become a taunt over the dragging weeks, his own voice hitting the walls and bouncing back to smack him in the face. If there was a ghost in those walls, it wasn’t trying to talk to him.

There had been no sign of Peter since he’d spoken of Martin’s good fortune. Peter had wanted to avoid correspondence, no doubt about that, and the letter had sent him on another boating excursion that very day. If Simon were to send another message, there would be no one to give it to. The satisfaction almost made his mouth twitch. 

The boat trip could’ve been a cover, but Martin liked to entertain the idea of Peter jumping into a row boat and furiously paddling away from the shore just to escape the skinny little man who dared want to speak with him.

He even understood the impulse. It wouldn’t be so bad to sit in a little boat in the middle of the ocean if it meant avoiding the horrible old men in his life. He didn’t have to do that yet, not when he had a perfectly empty spot right where he was. 

The weather had worsened considerably, three days of heavy sleet pushing him home without stopping. If he ducked inside a shop he wouldn’t want to go back out, and he couldn’t hide forever. Therefore, when on that fourth day it was closer to a sprinkle than a torrent, he finally took the time to get groceries.

He recognized some of the faces in the little corner shop, several regulars seizing the opportunity to stock up before worse weather settled in. They walked around diligently, considering their needs for the next week and not risking side conversations that could end long after the rain returned in full force. There was no chitchat or calming music, only the squeak of rubber wheels on the cold tile floor. 

Martin focused on the task in front of him. Frozen foods, mostly. At least there was someone out there pre-packaging things for people like him who came back from work tired and hungry. He'd never had much reason to be ambitious with cooking,  and never terribly good when he did try. No wonder dinners had been such a sad affair, but he was the only remaining judge.

As he selected bags of frozen veggies, it hit him that he’d taken far too much. He stared at the white plastic packaging, frowned, and threw it into his basket. Stocking up on long lasting foods would save him trouble in the long run, and changing the budget would’ve been a pain. 

He continued from aisle to aisle, grabbing what his hands were used to reaching for from the shelves and weaving between people who were too busy browsing to notice him. If someone was blocking him, he could loop back around and let everyone get on with their business.

As he eyed some flavorless oatmeal he heard the tiny bell over the entrance ring. He sighed to himself and wondered how crowded it would get if he stayed too long. The balance between moving quickly and not interrupting fellow shoppers was beginning to grate on his nerves, each go-around making him more and more aware of the ones taking their sweet time. 

He went around again, the same backs turned toward him in different configurations. If he kept circling around other shoppers would take their place while he was gone. If he waited nearby he would look impatient and agitated. If he made the loop again more people might be lined up at the queue when he was finally done and then he’d be stuck standing in line even longer, which could make it even more likely that he’d get stuck in sleet if it returned and he’d spend even more time waiting with everyone else, and if someone started chatting with the woman at the register which was very likely then who knew how long-

Heavy footsteps squeaked in his direction. The person who’d just entered was making a beeline for his aisle. Feeling a tiny jolt in his chest at the approach, he reflexively glanced over to see the older woman from the Fairchild house wearing a sensible coat and some sturdy waterproof boots.

She did live in town, then. Of course she lived in town. The Fairchild house was still part of town. Not that he knew for certain she lived there, but either way she would need to buy food. Someone in that big house had to, right? He’d never seen Simon walking about and couldn’t imagine him running errands. At this point he should’ve expected her to be around town, he thought, as his heart slammed against his ribcage.

He didn’t know her name. Presumably she was a Fairchild, what with the way that family worked, pulling like-minded people into it rather than building outward. Otherwise, she was just a person. Just another someone.

Someone he was openly staring at, and who had finally pinned him with a look of recognition from the other end of the aisle. He gritted his teeth, turned on his heel, and hopped to the aisle over. He had food to buy and no need for more… whatever it was she might do. Really, he’d grabbed enough to last him through the week, so why stay any longer in the stale air?

To his relief the queue was empty. Of course as he walked back to the front with his basket full of microwave meals he recognized the cashier. She was a former classmate’s mother, someone he would chat with on his little trips to the shop. As he placed his items on the counter he recalled that he usually asked after her daughter.

No one really liked small talk, and he was sure there would’ve been no change from whenever it was he’d spoken to this woman last. That was fine. Speech wasn’t going to come easy with the way his lips stuck together. He paid for the groceries, took his paper bag full of food and absconded into the night air. 

It was then that he forced his lips apart to breathe, clutching the bag against his chest and walking down the road. He felt the need to wipe his glasses, but his hands were full.

He had only made it a couple of blocks before he heard a voice from behind. “It’s rude to stare without saying anything.”

He stopped and turned to see the woman a few meters away with her arms crossed. Words failed him, so he said nothing and hoped his confused expression was enough.

“What’s your boss been up to? Slinking around I assume,” she asked.

Holding the groceries closer to his chest, Martin lowered his eyes to the ground.

The woman rubbed her forehead. “Of course. Should’ve expected as much from someone like you.” After a brief pause, she continued, “Look, I’m not sure what your deal is exactly, being so clearly new to all of this, but if you’re this messed up when nothing’s happened yet I suggest you leave.” 

She must’ve seen some twitch or twist in his face, as she said, “Fine, do what you like. He must pay really well to make you stay this long.” Then she shoved her hands into her coat pockets and walked back toward the shop.

He felt like he should’ve yelled something back, let her know exactly how much her unsolicited advice meant to him. Tell her to piss off, or to jump back into the sky or whatever it was her stupid group did. 

But of course he couldn’t say that, not then, not with how he was sure he’d sound. It would have come out cracked and raspy, as if he were a teen trying not to sound petulant. And he knew better than to try and argue with a person like her who knew that she knew more.

Instead, once he’d walked far enough that she couldn’t possibly see him, he considered what little she had said. Was this Simon’s idea, using her to push him in some direction that would agitate Peter? Or was she acting of her own will and giving him what she thought of as useful suggestions from one person working for an evil company to another?

If she really wanted to be helpful she could’ve said something informative instead of being vague and weird about it. Who knew what any of these people were thinking? It wasn’t his fault they all wanted to be cryptic. And no matter what she thought she knew about his situation, there was no leaving for him. He could feel it in his gut, in his throat, as easily as he could feel the ice beginning to pelt him from above. 

Leave, she said. What would leaving look like? Being chased down because he knew too much. An empty stretch of road leading him to rooms full of strangers. Leaving someone behind.

The worst was how she looked at him when she said it. He could list out to her all his reasons for staying, but somehow she would know he was full of shit.

--

Sasha: so there’s a wrench in things that’s taking longer than expected to fix, can’t get into the details but we’re working on it

Tim: should be back on track before you know it! 

Tim: so dont go making things exciting over there without us

Sasha: sorry to be cagey, it’s hard to explain

Martin’s mobile sat on the weathered wood of his front porch, his only light source besides the cracks around the front door. Giving the notifications a once over, he released a slow breath through his nose. It burned less than before, much less now that it had been a few days, and he’d come to an understanding that soon it would stop altogether. His own stubbornness exposed.

She couldn’t say she told him so. That was a sort of blessing.

When the light of his mobile winked out, everything was still but for the waves and the creaking of the old house. His old house. Its joints strained with the high winds and plummeting temperature, but it was built to last through such things. Each evening those noises greeted him when he walked through the front door and went with him to sleep, jolting him awake in the middle of the night with a loud snap as if the building had cracked its spine. The house persisted, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to complain about it the whole way.

Tim: in the meantime let us know youre still breathing

Tim: i know i ran out of material weeks ago but that doesnt mean you get out of pretending to think im funny

With a sigh, Martin picked up the mobile.

Martin: im fine

Martin: not much happening still

Tim: think the boredom will get you first?

He considered the message and then set the mobile back down next to him. The meeting with the Fairchild woman had been enough to drain him without him uttering a single syllable. Texting was easier but not by much, and he had nothing in him to keep up with Tim’s lighthearted attempts to engage.

The notebook tucked into his jacket had been the only good receptacle for words recently. His jacket protected the little record of his thoughts from the spray of water that slipped under the porch roof and misted over his glasses and hair and cheeks, blurring his vision and sucking the heat from his skin.

He found himself in a little bubble outside of time where clouds blocked out the sky and any hope of telling time with it. Fog hid the path up and away from his home, no entrance or escape from where he sat but for the wide expanse of salt water ahead. 

When was the last time he’d seen a boat on those waves? The trek down the cliffs would’ve made dragging one to the shore a pain, and there were no other homes left down on the rocky beach. Had they owned a boat when he was younger, some small thing never meant to fit more than one person but forced to fit two and a half? Did he remember something like that happening?

He sighed and pushed the false memory away with her inside of it, but the obstinate thing sailed right back into his mind. He inhaled and then let a sharp breath out through his nose. 

With some effort, he pushed out, “Stupid. She wouldn’t have needed to go out in a boat.” What a grating sound.

It wasn’t as if his house had a place for a boat. There wasn’t even an overhang to drag a dinghy under in a lazy effort to protect it from the elements. 

Had there been one once, though? He couldn’t see much from where he sat, the fog creeping in from the sides and obscuring his view to his right and left. That and his glasses made seeing his stiff hands a miracle.

His mobile lit up the space beside him.

Sasha: it won’t keep us much longer though. it complicates things, but waiting won’t do any good. 

Sasha: so sit tight and we’ll have a plan of action soon

Tim: seriously though even if nothing happens you should still tell us youre fine

Tim: a quick thumbs up or a ‘hey im good’ is fine dont need to start a whole conversation if theres nothing to report

Tim: but saying nothing implies a worst case scenario. i know everythings sort of come to a halt on your end but we dont know when something will happen

Tim: so text us after work

Tim: or at least respond same day

A new lecture, from Tim of all people. He’d forgotten to respond to the others for a couple of boring days in a long string of boring days and he was being told off. His day to day life wasn’t any of their business. He’d needed the time to himself, away from his phone and all that. And they knew he was mostly off on weekends.

At least Tim confirmed that all they needed was proof he wasn’t dead. He could keep that in mind in the future.

He wasn’t being fair to Tim, the one who at this point still attempted to talk with him when he didn’t need to. Of course Martin not responding would look bad- he was lucky they hadn’t broken down his door by day two. But at the end of all things the problem was him. The problem was his. 

Martin: i will

Tim: good

The rain began to pick up a little, splattering the screen and forcing him to pocket his mobile. It was as good an excuse as any to ignore more messages. He’d agreed to not leave them in suspense about his safety. It was all he could give them.

Pushing himself off the front steps, he stood just outside of the porch roof’s reach and inhaled. It did still sting, but that seemed to be the point of the exercise. It opened things up, cleaned him from the inside and washed it all away with an exhale. It was no wonder his mother had been so insistent with how much he found leaving him with every breath. 

He looked up into the sky with eyes squeezed shut for a few moments, then looked one more time at the black water ahead-

A thrashing in the water cut the silence in two, forcing a yelp out of his chest as he caught himself on the porch railing. Past the fog, just barely visible against the dark backdrop of sea and sky, was a figure hunched and formless and slowly shuffling out of the water.

Martin stepped backwards and half-fell back under the porch roof, wiping the rain from his glasses. The fog had grown so thick as to obscure the figure of any distinguishing features, and as he continued to back toward the front door he squinted hard to get a better look at the- the person? The thing? The-

It couldn’t be. No, it wouldn’t- she wouldn’t come back. It wasn’t possible. But if it had come from the sea (where else could it have emerged from so suddenly?), then there wasn’t another explanation.

His throat went taught with panic. He grasped at it, using his other hand to fumble behind him for the doorknob and hold it tight. He wanted to run. Run away, run up the hill, run straight at her and scream until his voice left him entirely. Anything but stand there rigid against the reality creeping toward him. Damn it, when had this fog rolled in so thick? What time was it?

The figure stopped, its crunching footsteps giving way to the sound of waves and pattering droplets. Martin held his breath and waited for something to give, whether it be his mother’s patience or his own two legs.

Then the footsteps resumed, more certain and definitely faster than he’d recalled his mother ever being. Right, she had always needed to be careful of her knees. The sea couldn’t just fix a history of osteoporosis.

This wasn’t a comfort. As the figure grew near and gained definition to its stick legs and shifting, asymmetric middle, Martin could only stand there frozen in terror with his hands gripped tight around the doorknob and his own neck.

An uncertain voice shouted over the drizzle. “Martin? Is that you? This fog is-”

Wait.

No. No that didn’t make any goddamned sense. He didn’t hear that.

And yet, out of the grey shroud, hair sticking to the sides of his face, walked a stiff and mildly embarrassed Jonathan Sims. He stopped just short of the porch steps, and then Martin couldn’t register anything else, his vision narrowing to the thing clutched to Jon's chest.

“Ah. Hi.” Jon adjusted the awkwardly folded seal skin in his arms and cleared his throat. “May I come inside?”

[lucky-sevens]

mechanisms fiction!

also known as: i read all the fiction so you don’t have to!

under the cut: summaries of each fiction, word count, and content warnings! the summaries are of my own writing, and unlike the ones on the website, i’ve opted for useful rather than intriguing. i’ve also ordered the list to make a bit more sense/fit better timeline-wise!

some of the fiction has an audio version; i’ve included links to TheVoidSings’ lyric videos of said audio where applicable!

i’ve put the ones with relevant lore in bold, the ones i personally like in italics, and i’ve put a * after all the ones that include the mechs!

AURORA AND THE CREW

breakup*

summary: nastya and aurora have an argument and then both go off to sulk. mostly focuses on nastya. interesting thing: scuzz is in this one!

word count: 707

content warnings: implied nsfw

the story of the toy soldier*

summary: it’s the toy soldier’s backstory! covers what’s probably at least a decade and has a lot of lore! also has illustrations, most likely courtesy of ts!

word count: 605

content warnings: murder, images of choking, implied rape

who killed doctor carmilla?*

summary: carmilla’s just been pushed out an airlock and various mechanisms are going around trying to get an alibi out of everyone.

word count: 647

content warnings: n/a

interview transcript 34/08/7012*

summary: a police officer attempts to interview jonny when he’s in prison. includes a lot of information about him that’s nice to have for characterization!

word count: 782

content warnings: discussed murder, including child murder; attempted suicide

archive footage*

summary: an ivy character study, pretty much! goes into her fucked up brain and how it works. one of my personal favorites, as it’s very well written.

word count: 1390

content warnings: death, minor blood/gore

octokittens*

summary: a short one-off featuring some ashes and jonny banter!

word count: 208

content warnings: guns, animal death

feeding the octokittens*

summary: another one-off: this one has some quality tim, ivy, and nastya content. very fun!

word count: 455

content warnings: animal death

tales of the blogbot*

summary: comes off as an odd fiction, addressing the ‘blogbot’, the thing that used to send out the updates on the mechs mailing list (among other things) and makes passive-aggressive comments about them occasionally. goes through a few answers to what the bot is, and comes to no conclusion, but directly links to the next fiction in my list, ‘ghost in the machine’.

word count: 988

content warnings: referenced mass murder, implied nsfw

ghost in the machine*

summary: what happened to aurora’s programmer when jonny and carmilla took over ‘her’ ship (which is explained/expanded on in ‘how the aurora was won’); lots of aurora lore, as well as a more close view into the actual atrocities the mechanisms commit.

word count: 1152

content warnings: death

how the aurora was won*

jonny steals the aurora from the cyberian navy, in the most unsettling way possible!

word count: 631

content warnings: suicide, graphic depictions of violence

a bedtime story*

some fluffy nastyaurora for the soul!

word count: 326

content warnings: n/a

drive the cold winter away*

part of a group with cyberian demons and nomadic spacers! i think i’ve arranged them chronologically, but might have messed it up.

nastya visits the ruins of cyberia. jonny and ashes are there.

word count: 432

content warnings: n/a

cyberian demons*

a nastya character study- reflections on her memories, as she works on destroying what is left of cyberia.

word count: 1699

content warnings: blood, violence

nomadic spacers*

an outsider pov on the events of ‘drive the cold winter away’ and ‘cyberian demons’.

word count: 1120

content warnings: death

out*

nastya leaves the mechanisms for good after she finds her love, aurora, is no longer who she once was; presumably, this is her death.

word count: 1210

content warnings: suicide

ONCE UPON A TIME [IN SPACE]

gingerbread

hansel and gretal’s villain origin story! (they were the scientists speaking in ‘the twins’)

word count: 609

content warnings: child neglect, murder, needles/syringes

midnight

a bit of a cinders character study/some more of her backstory!

word count: 628

content warnings: n/a

mirror, mirror (audio version here!)

post-pump shanty/snow’s flight. the beginning of snow’s descent into a worse person, and how it overlaps with the myth of snow white/how she begins to take on the role of the evil queen.

word count: 860

content warnings: smoking

a fireside chat

a radio broadcast by scheherazade, king cole’s chief propaganda minister.

word count: 842

content warnings: mentions of concentration camps, death, and bombings

a rebel yell (audio version here!)

counter to ‘a fireside chat’- a radio broadcast by tom thumb, the voice of the rebellion! one of my personal favorites, as it’s very funny.

word count: 574

content warnings: mentions of mass murder

chapter’s end*

mad jack spratt and jonny d’ville play cards.

word count: 790

content warnings: discussions of death

by any other name

basically all the lore around briar rose, in a form of a report by hood, the rebellion’s hacker!

word count: 2023

content warnings: murder, graphic depictions of violence

this little piggy

all of the (incredibly fucked up) lore around the three little pigs!

word count: 993

content warnings: child abuse, brainwashing, non-consensual body modification, medical abuse (it’s a very intense one, please stay safe!)

what big eyes

all the lore we have on hood, in the form of king cole’s intelligence officers trying to figure it out.

word count: 1946

content warnings: mentions of war crimes and death

in the army*

the toy soldier and a group of rose reds hang out in a bar together! it’s a very fun one, with lots of banter! presumably takes place before the toy soldier met the mechanisms, but we don’t know that for sure. lots of lore about the rose reds, as well!

word count: 707

content warnings: mentions of war crimes and death

true love

colonel belle’s report on her efforts to manipulate adam ‘the beast’ bete into joining the resistance. (the mechs’ take on beauty and the beast). also a small bit of lore about rose!

word count: 1151

content warnings: manipulation, torture, unhealthy relationships

one thousand and two

a character study of scheherazade- the thoughts running through her head as rebels are about to find and kill her.

word count: 2236

content warnings: suicide; mentions of torture, concentration camps, and child death

ever after*

you know how jonny was being annoyingly cryptic about what happened to briar rose! well, they have a fiction that says!

word count: 680

content warnings: graphic depictions of violence

ULYSSES DIES AT DAWN

you’ll have to tell us the story sometime*

the mechanisms explore the ruins of the city, thousands of years after the events of ulysses dies at dawn!

word count: 469

content warnings: n/a

death in the metropolis

not anything super relevant- a news article about gang violence and the increased shifts for acheron workers as a result, setting a bit of a mood for the city as a whole. establishes hermes’ role in olympus.

word count: 547

content warnings: nothing to note, but there’s the background fucked-up-ness of the city going on and mentioned!

how not to die

another news article, this one focused on a group of people (’helljumpers’) trying to escape the acheron.

word count: 926

content warnings: suicide

fao: hermes – not urgent

a bit of a followup to the previous two fictions! the editor, herodotus, gets in trouble for discussing the helljumpers.

word count: 453

content warnings: n/a

orpheus, dionysus, muriatic acid and the strange whirring thing*

a look into orpheus’ character and how he ended up in the ulysses job! (mechs don’t heavily feature- just a note of the role brian took on, as well as mentions of ashes of course)

word count: 5017

content warnings: addiction, suicidal thoughts, police; implied nsfw, but only in the context of orpheus being a sex worker

orpheus and narcissus go to the seaside

i personally really love this one! it’s low-key the mechanisms’ take on the great gatsby- takes place a few years prior to the above fiction, and explores orpheus and narcissus’ friendship! it’s morbidly funny, with lots of very good banter/interaction! 

word count: 6300

content warnings: eating disorders, addiction, implied nsfw (again in the context of sex work), suicidal thoughts, mental institutions (even if that’s not normally a problem for you, they get very dark and graphic, so be careful), non-consensual drugging; technically self-harm, but it’s a lighthearted joke

in the madness of war

how ulysses was forced into the war (a darker take on the story about him attempting to avoid it at first).

word count: 817

content warnings: n/a

the hacker’s mistake (a fiction to accompany prometheus)

prometheus is revealed as corrupt, but that doesn’t stop people from believing in him, so he is made an example of.

word count: 903

content warnings: torture

one of the chosen

another low-lore worldbuilding piece- this one about a teenage girl who gets conscripted to the acheron early.

word count: 824

content warnings: n/a (it’s fairly dark, though, so be careful).

eskhatos*

after the events of ulysses dies at dawn, the mechanisms leave, but not without causing a bit of chaos first.

word count: 464

content warnings: cannibalism

HIGH NOON OVER CAMELOT

the fastest shot

guinevere’s backstory! 

word count: 792

content warnings: murder, child abuse, alcoholism

the sharpest aim

a western-style tall tale, starring lancelot!

word count: 1667

content warnings: relationship abuse, murder, violence

i will rule this town*

another personal favorite! expanding on ‘ten caliber railgun he got off a bandit in the flooded sectors’, it deals with arthur’s attempts to bring down nimue, the lady of the lake, and gain control! also has some lancelot/arthur/guinevere fluff, and a bit of an insight into his friendship with brian- as well as his original hopeful mindset, and how that diminished.

word count: 1488

content warnings: murder, drowning

the wake

morgan le fay (mordred’s surrogate mother)’s funeral, and mordred’s decision to go seek out camelot.

word count: 1045

content warnings: death (but only in the context of it being a funeral), cultural cannibalism

pellinore and the beast (audio version here)

this one’s a bit of an odd one- i’ve included it for the sake of completion, as it’s on the fiction list, but it’s just the lyrics to the mechs song pellinore and the beast? i’ve excluded the word count and content warnings for this one, as it’s literally just the lyrics. unsure of what to do here.

OTHER

the prisoner of dorian gray

the mechanisms’ take on the story of dorian grey! this one is part fiction, part song lyrics with a note of the tune they should be sung to.

word count: 1746

content warnings: suicide, torture

and that’s it! the fiction is all very good and well written, and i’d highly recommend reading at least a few of these!

[paramisgwilwileth]

Challenger || Armin Arlert [College AU]

~x~ [ ARMINARLERT X FEM! READER] ~x~ 

-please dont repost, nor copy and paste, Thank you!

- photo not mine

no warnings, just Armin.

------------------------- THE blue-eyed blonde stared at you with wide eyes, obviously shocked at your sudden outburst as you slammed your palm on his side of the table in the library- ignoring all the judging stares from the Other University Students- You parted your lips to speak as you stared him down  confusion still on his features.

" Armin." You smirked , your eyes never leaving his. "I challenge you to a duel, an Intellectual duel - but there's a catch are you willing to engage in this feat Arlert? " . You waited for him as he blinked- did the poor guy just get lost within his own world again? It took a few more seconds of blinking and staring at you until he spoke.

" Pray , do tell." he uttered as your words started registering in that pretty brain of his.

" Whoever gets the higher grade during midterms will get their wish granted, if I win you will lend me your library card, for a month."  You said triumphantly- but inside you were really really hoping you win since you lost yours along with the fact that it takes a month to process one.  " and if you win I will-"

" - we go on a date." It was your turn to blink out of confusion, a what?

" A date [Y/N], dinner maybe, lunch?" a smile tugged up at his lips at your reaction.

Your face felt red, Armin Arlert's request is a date-?

" F-fine whatever." You shook your head- as if that would ease the redness of your cheeks. You sighed and stretched your hand out at him raising an eyebrow  as you waited for a handshake as a pact.  "Now will you accept?"

He nodded- his blonde locks swaying along with the movement of his head as he reached out to shake your hand, his other hand brushing his shoulder length gold hair away from his sweet face.

"I look forward to our date Ms. [L/N]." He gave you a close-eyed smile.

Guess you'll have to study harder this time.

----

You stared at the only number with a decimal in your report card- gaping in disbelief at the 1.50 on your Mathematics Subject. What on Earth are you going to do now? Surely Arlert would have a perfect score over everything - that smartass. Still- you had hope, maybe he hadn't perfected an exam or two- so you rushed down the hall to the bulletin board to look for the masterlist and ranking of all the students.

Paradis College of Science

1. Arlert, Armin

2. [L/N] , [ Y/N]

3. Ackerman, Mikasa

4. Bodt, Marco

5. Leonhardt, Annie

And the list goes on.

Now, you were sure that you would never have peace again-

"7PM, Friday. I'll pick you up in front of your dorm room I suppose." A sweet familiar voice materialized from behind you, making you jump . You bit the inside of your cheek and inwardly groaned- No library card, and also you earned an unnecessary date. You exhaled through your nose and stomped back to your dorm to prepare for Organization activities that afternoon.

On your way you had bumped into your friend Historia, hearing her gasp as she witnessed your interaction with Armin- bombarding you with questions about him and you until her girlfriend Ymir came to pry her off of you.

----

Friday came and you were out of focus the entire day, either it was your leg bouncing up and down in nervousness, or you would bump into posts  not knowing where you were headed- it was horrible.

Now you sat on your bed in your room, dressed in a simple plaid skirt and long-sleeved blouse - deciding if you were to put makeup on or not. Deciding against it you again, just simply, powdered your face and applied a thin sheen of lip-tint for a bit of colour as to not look like a complete ghost of a person.

6:55pm your phone flashed, a soft bell alarm went off indicating that it was about time to exit the safe confinements of your College Dorm room and engage on a date with the smart, attractive, young man waiting by the main doors. It took you about three minutes to ride the elevator down  arriving at the doors at exactly one minute before seven.

And there he was, already there just waiting for you.

" Y-You look amazing [Y/N] ." He smiled shyly, tucking a strand of his golden hair behind his ear- making you blush . He offered his hand to you as he opened the door to the passenger seat beside the driver of his car- helping you get inside before he himself went around and sat on the driver-seat himself.

" Where are we going?" You asked, you at least wanted to know where you were headed in case this guy had the guts to sell you off for money- not that he seemed to be the type of person who would do that  or would need that seeing his car's model in the first place.

" Nowhere fancy... Just somwhere cozy and relaxing." He grinned boyishly as he started the car and drove off - not exactly answering your question ( to your frustration) - stopping at a quaint little restaurant with a nature motif. " We're here..."

He got out of the car and helped you out, finding you both a nice table by the window to see the view of the garden lit with fairylights. You orders came and soon you were both only chatting, mostly about academics, life, and future plans. You found out that he wanted to be a scientist, discovering the vast majority of sciences in different aspects.

Soon it was almost midnight and your date was slowly approaching its end, he had drove you back to your dorm and waited till you had notified him that you were safe inside your room- only did he leave.

The events of the night replayed themselves within your mind-

" Oh, I almost forgot..." He had stopped mid conversation to fish something from his jean's pockets pulling out a laminated white card with the school stamp on it. He handed it over to you and grinned " Here, my library card."

You blinked in confusion, shaking your head. " But I didn't win the bet."

He shrugged, his golden hair moving along with his actions once more as he giggled. "Just take it [ Y/N]."

You gaped at him as you reached over to recieve the card when he pulled it back.

" On one condition, you let me tag along with you to the library." He smiled, innocently .

You gulped, unsure of what to say, before nodding and accepting his proposal.

" I head to the library everyday at 5 pm ." you replied to him as he placed the sleek card on your palm.

Now, in the confinements of your room- comfortly dressed in your pajamas  you sighed.

" I guess I'll see even more of you Armin Arlert."

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

Note:

Hello everybody!

I'm still alive! HAHAHA, I hope you are all safe and well!

This chapter was inspired by multiple things.

My Friend , Sora  - and a lot of college AU Armins - they're all so fab! and the anime " My Little Monster."

Please don't forget to vote and/or comment so I can see if my work is okay or if i need major changes!

Thank you everyone!

- MK

[secretlynestaarcheron]

Chapter Seventeen + Eighteen

Okay, this is a nice filler chapter with Domestic Nessian because it will make me happy to write :)

The Selection AU

Tagged: @justgiu12 @blxckbeak @justabunchoffandomtrash-blog @swagbookmaster @my-fan-side @heyitsrhysand @lovelynesta @acourtofmarauders @illyrianwitchling13 @sjm-things @superspiritfestival

lmk if you want to be tagged 

Chapter Seventeen:

Nesta wiped the sweat off her brow as Feyre and her finished carrying one of the bed frames up the stairs. Feyre leaned over her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “I haven’t done this much labor since the last move,” Feyre huffs.

“So, never?” Nesta replies as she shakes her head and grabs the bed frame again. “Okay, let’s take this to your room.”

Feyre sighs in content, “My own room, we’re really climbing up in the world, Nes,” she chuckles as she grabs the bed frame and they begin moving again. “Soon we’re going to have to move ourselves into a palace, now that is going to be a sight. Can you imagine me tracking my muddy boots through the palace?”

Nesta rolls her eyes as they drop the bed frame in her spacious room. The house was smaller than the one they had when they were fours but it was almost too big for them now. Nesta didn’t know how they would fill all of the rooms. She had gotten so used to sleeping next to her sisters, she felt like it would be cold and lonely by herself.

“Where do you want this?” Cassian calls pulling her from her thoughts as he walks past the door with Mor. It was their father’s desk, Nesta remembered the late nights she would find him huddle over books and scraps of papers.

Feyre pops up next to her, “Put that in the room across from Elain’s, I think we’re turning that into a library,” she pipes up, Nesta turns to look at her in surprise. “What? It’s about time you have a place to put all of your books. I am tired of finding them littered all over the place.”

“To the library it goes,” Cassian exclaims, giving Nesta a wink. She rolls her eyes in response, she definitely wasn’t at the point of ignoring him anymore but she wasn’t sure where she stood with him. She didn’t even know where to begin when she thought about him, they could both be killed or imprisoned if she ever voiced the thoughts she had of him.

Mor let out a chuckle from the other room and it crashed the little bubble Nesta had placed him in, it was just a reminder that he wasn’t Nestas. Throughout her time here Nesta wanted to hate her for how she joked with feyre, chatted with Elain, and made Cassian laugh so loud it filled the house. Nesta hated how tolerable she was, how Cassian deserved someone that would actually admit they had feelings, who could admit out loud how they felt.

“You okay?” Feyre asks, peering over her shoulder at Nesta as she pushes the bed frame against the wall, right by the window that looks over the forest that borders their house.

Nesta gave her sister a tight smile, she couldn’t let anyone know these thoughts, these were her own to bear. She couldn’t hurt anyone else, not now that everything was finally coming together. “Just thinking about how we will have to head into town to get you some new art supplies, this window gives beautiful light to paint.”

Feyre beams, making Nesta return the smile as her sister talks about everything her sister wants to paint from a portrait of them to the castle gardens to their little shack in caste seven. Despite the pain and misery they felt they would always have each other, they were survivors.

The girls work hard to finish up the bedrooms before nightfall, Nesta moving through the rooms to make sure everything is in the best spot, she needed them to be happy before she could even begin to think about her room. It would be weird to sleep so far apart, they had always slept in the same bed since moving to caste seven.

She peeks through the rooms as she moves down the hall, everyone must have made their way downstairs. She stops at the end of the hallway, where the master bedroom sat, she wanted it to be a guest room or a studio but both Feyre and Elain refused. She opens the door, her mouth dropping when she sees the bedroom set up, Feyre and Elain both curled up on the bed, their heads close together.

Nesta smiles at the scene, making her way over towards the bed and sitting down on the edge. Elain eyes blink open and she smiles at Nesta. “It doesn’t feel real,” she mumbles half asleep. Feyre stirs but doesn’t wake. “Not since you went away, I feel like I am going to wake up and it will all be gone.”

Nesta lays down next to her sister, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “I know,” Nesta replies, a ghost of a smile on her lips, her world was finally looking up. She looks at her sister's faces in the moonlight peaking through the curtains. They hadn’t been in the home for long but she could see the peace on their features. She realized that she didn’t need to cause any agony by saying anything, all she needed was them.

She listens to them breath while staring up at the ceiling before letting go of Elain’s hand and moving downstairs. The kitchen light is one and she hears someone moving around, peaking in she sees Cassian by himself with a bunch of pans surrounding him.

She leans against the doorway, watching him intently, as he moves around the kitchen without seeing her. He moves to grab something off the stove, swearing under his breath as he grabs the hot plate with his bare hand. “Need any help?” she asks, pushing herself away from the doorway and steps through.

He turns in surprise laughing when he sees her looking at the mess surrounding him. “I was trying to make you guys a welcome chocolate cake, I remember Feyre mentioning to Rhys that it was her favorite,” he replies, running a hand through his hair leaving a trail of brown flour through his hair.

She chuckles lifting a hand to dust it out of his hair before she realizes what she's doing, she smiles sheepishly dropping her hand and turning towards the counter. “Are you following a recipe?” she asks, looking around for a piece of paper.

He takes a minute to answer and she wonders if he was stunned by her actions as well. “Uh, well-, here’s the thing,” he replies, looking around at the mess. “My adopted mom used to make this amazing double chocolate cake growing up, I used to watch her. I thought I could remember.”

She moves to the pantry where a few of her mother’s recipes were placed in a box on the shelf, she moves through them looking for the card she wanted. “Here,” she says, handing it to him. “Probably not as good as a double chocolate cake, but it’ll do the job.”

He smiles in thanks, reading over the card before beginning to gather the ingredients from where they littered all over the place. She can’t help but think about his parents as she gathers some dishes to clean, he had never mentioned them to her, which wasn’t completely odd. They didn’t know each other that well, but she did find it curious how he was adopted. That was rare in the caste systems, most kids were placed as eights and had to fend for themselves.

She was curious, she wanted to ask more but she bit her lip, finishing up the dishes and turning to see him putting the cake batter into the oven. “Round two was a success?” she asks.

He laughs, “It was more like round five, but I’ll let you decide once it's cooked if it was a success.” he replies, looking around the now clean kitchen. “Are you heading to bed?” She doesn’t even respond before he’s moving across the kitchen and rummaging through his bag.

She leans against the counter, watching him look through his bag before pulling out two packages. He turns to her looking down before extending the packages towards her. She takes them from his outstretched hand, eyeing him slightly before ripping the parchment on the first one.

“Their house warming gifts,” he announces as she pulls off the paper and flips it over to see a picture of her at the palace. She was cuddled up in the back corner but all the other girls were out of focus, it was just her in the back looking out at the moonlight with a book on her lap.

“Did you take this?” she asks, peering up at him, his embarrassment answering her question. “I didn’t know you enjoyed photography, you’re really good.” She rubs the glass, that was the second night at the palace, before they even were introduced to the prince. This was before she even had a conversation with Cassian.

“Rhysand asked me to sneak in and see how you all act, a professional photo that you all submitted was one thing but he wanted to see some candid shots,” Cassian replies before looking up at her and running a hand through his hair. “You were the only one not all over me to know anything about the prince.”

She chuckles, smiling down at the photo before looking back up at him. “Is that why I got such a warm welcome from you when we first ran into each other?” she asks.

“I think you actually physically ran into me on our first encounter,” Cassian retorts back to his own normal chipper. “I’ve been taking some of your family throughout the week. I can get them printed if you’d like.”

“I would like,” she replies realizing how oblivious she had been, she hadn’t even seen him holding a camera this whole time let alone snapping photos of her and her sisters. He nods his head towards the other gift and she begins to open it.

It was an old book, the binding was falling apart and the ink was fading, she couldn’t even read the title. “It’s a copy of the original princesses diary,” Cassian says as she looks up at him curiously. “She was the one who instilled the first schools, built and managed the palace library, and traveled the world collecting the books that fill it.”

“Really, I didn’t know any of that,” she replies, flipping through the pages as if she could just absorb the memories.

“History books and magazines mostly pride her on her fashion sense but I thought you’d enjoy her story,” Cassian says, his voice soft. She had never seen him this soft before, so open and relaxed, it was always stern and forced while at the palace.

“Thank you,” she says, looking down at the gifts before looking at him again. “For the gifts and for staying and helping.”

He was right in front of her, the kitchen only lit by a few candles, the smell of cake cooking in the oven. She felt like she was a kid again, back with her mom reading in the kitchen while her mother baked goods for the lower castes. She could see the look on his face too, he was safe, she couldn’t help but feel glad that him being with her made him feel this way.

“Nes?”

She turns abruptly away from Cassian, she is lost in her thoughts again, imaging something between them that did not exist. She turned to see Feyre in the entryway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “What’s that smell?”

Nesta laughs, “Of course the smell of cake would wake you,”she retorts as the timer goes off and Cassian moves to take it out. Nesta couldn’t help but want to stay like this forever. She was truly and utterly happy.

~*~

“You ready?” Cassian asks, and Nesta notices a new air to his voice, there was something different between since last night when he gave her the gifts and everyone woke up to enjoy the cake. They had sat in the living room way past dawn. Mor fell asleep in the rocking chair and Feyre, who practically scarfed down half the cake, complained of a stomach ache until Elain helped her to bed.

Nesta and Cassian had sat side by side on the small sofa, their shoulders brushing whenever they flipped a page of their respected books, hers the diary and his one of her father’s old business textbooks. Their knees would brush whenever he switched which legs were crossed and she would have to reread the page again wondering if he had felt it too.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies as Cassian takes the bag from her and moves to put it into the car. It didn’t mean much as she turns back to see her sister’s on the porch, she moved to them quickly to embrace them, she wasn’t ready to leave them. “I am going to miss you both.”

Feyre chuckles, as she pulls away from the hug first, straightening her shirt. “Please, once you’re back in the palace library or eating your bodyweight in pastries you’ll forget all about us,” Feyre retorts.

“And the prince wrote to Feyre, he doesn’t know when we can visit but he wants all the families to come after the ball. We will see you soon,” Elain adds. Nesta raises an eyebrow and turns to Feyre who’s cheeks had turned a light pink, she wouldn’t meet her sister's gaze. Better her than me, Nesta couldn’t help but think.

“You could see me sooner if I didn’t go back,” Nesta says, if they agreed she would, she’d turn around and send them off without her. Send an apology letter to the prince and spend the rest of her life here with them.

Feyre shakes her head, “Not possible. I am still rooting for you to win,” Feyre exclaims. “I would look great in a tiara.”

“Who said anything about you wearing a crown?” Nesta asks, crossing her arms and peering down at her sister. She meant to tell them when she was home that there wasn’t a possibility of her winning but with moving she didn’t find a moment alone with them to share, she doubted the prince would allow her to anyways. Feyre might be wearing a crown soon if her red cheeks had anything to do with what was in the letter.

“Obviously being the sister of the Queen would make me a princess,” Feyre replies with an innocent shrug. Elain rolls her eyes at her sister, Feyre had a mind of her own and nothing they say would go against it.

“Speaking of not knowing anything about monarchies-,” Nesta begins earning a grunt from Feyre. “I have a tutor coming once a week, to help boost your studies now that we are three.”

Feyre groans and yells after her as Nesta moves down to the car. “I hope you know I am eighteen now! Do I really need a tutor?”

Cassian props the door open for her and she moves down the sidewalk. “I like them,” he says as he follows her into the car. She smiles out the window where they were waving wildly. “I like them too,” she murmurs.

~*~

“What do you want, Nesta?” Cassian asks, his voice just below a whisper as he turns to face her, she knew he was only that close because Mor was asleep in the seat across from them but she couldn’t help but take every inch of him in. She didn’t know when she would see him with such detail once they stepped foot back into the palace.

She can’t help but roll her eyes when she thinks of the question: What did she want? She wanted a lot of things. She wanted to take a hot bath with lots of bubbles after the trequious journey back to the palace, she wanted the next diary, she wanted a hot meal, and of course, she wanted him. Unfortunately, she couldn't have that last one.

“That’s a very loaded question,” she replies, she wanted to be able to reach out and push the strain of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes that she wanted to stare into for the rest of her life. “I want to house the homeless, I want to end hunger-,”

He chuckles, but to stay quiet it's breathy and she had never heard anything like it before. She wanted to bottle it up and save it for a rainy day when she was back home. Her sisters married and she was alone with her books so she could remember that he was real. “Don’t patronize me, sweetheart,” he replies. She wanted him to call her that, for the rest of their long lives. “What fuels Nesta Archeron, what’s her deepest desire.”

“Do I get to know yours, sweetheart?” she asks, her eyes piercing straight into his dark ones, which had an emotion she couldn’t pinpoint. He gives her a small smile and then nods. “Okay, what I want to do, what I truly want to do-,”

“Stop stalling, darling,” he says. “This plane is going to land any minute.”

She bites her lip before she continues, “I want to teach, I want to take my books to the lower castes and I want to give them a chance.” She doesn’t know why she feels embarrassed to tell him, she hadn’t even said it aloud to anymore before, she didn’t have the means, the books, or the funds before.

He chuckles and she narrows her eyes. “I am not laughing at you, I promise,” he replies, shaking his head an expression of fondness embracing his features as his eyes meet hers again. “You surprise me, Nes. I am glad I met you.”

He’s close to her now, but she knows he’s not going to kiss her this time, but she wants him too.

A sound chimes and the pilot announces that they would be landing soon, Cassian pulls away reaching across the aisle to nudge Mor awake. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he says, leaning back in his seat as she smacks his hand away. He turns to Nesta with a mischievous grin, “I am not sure if you know but Mor, Rhy, and I all grew up in the castle together. Rhys and I used to pull the worse pranks on her to wake her up.”

Mor shakes her head from across the aisle, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and patting down her hair, she still looks effortlessly beautiful despite being asleep in an upright chair. “Traumatizing, I have slept the same, always on edge,” she retorts. They continue to joke, Nesta quickly feeling out of place as the plane lands and the security guard come on to help the exit through the crowds.

She’s quiet as they maneuver through the crowd, saying hello and taking pictures with a few girls, the crowd thickens and she feels a firm hand placed on her back. She turns to see Cassian grinning at her, “Wouldn’t wanna lose you in this crowd,” he says over the cheering. She nods turning back towards their destination.

The car was quiet, all three of them squished in the back, she wondered if the King had sent such a small car because he didn’t want her to come back. Mor sat in the middle, telling tales of them as children, but Nesta hardly listened. When they were alone she was sure that Cassian was hers but in reality neither of them were available from the outside point of view, especially her.

“You’ve been quiet, you feeling alright?” Mor asks as they step out of the car and Cassian moves to help the guards unload the bags.

Nesta smiles in thanks, “Of course, just tired,” she replies, “You share a lot about your childhood, did you not stay local for your later years? Did you travel?”

Mor lets out a breath, “Let's just say the King and my father didn’t approve of who I chose to spend my nights with,” she says with a wink. “They sent me to a school across the sea.” Nesta eyes widened, of course she knew, she had wondered about Elain who barely acknowledged any boy who came her way but she had never heard of someone being sent away.

Mor looks back and sees Nesta’s expression. “I hope I didn’t offend you,” Mor replies but doesn’t seem like she would have actually cared if she did.

“Of course not, I am shocked by how they responded not by you,” Nesta replies with an ease. Mor sends her a smile and Nesta is glad, the last thing she wanted for Mor to not feel comfortable around her. Nesta couldn’t help but celebrate selfishly, so Cassian wasn’t with her.

“You two standing there all day? We have a feast to attend!” Cassian exclaims from where he was hauling a few bags and trunks up the stairs. Mor laughs after him before turning towards Nesta. “Since I was honest with you, I hope you can be honest with me,” she begins and Nesta nods a wave of anxiety pulsing through her. “I’ve known Cassian for years, there’s only been one girl in his life and he was hurt by the end. I saw you two in your kitchen before we all came down and I heard bits and pieces of your conversation on the way here.”

Nesta’s face burned, she didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, she hadn’t said anything that would get either of them in trouble. “I am not going to say anything, Cassian is a brother to me, I want him to be happy. He seems happy with you but you’re apart of-,”

“The Selection, I know,” Nesta finishes and turns away from Mor. That explains the embarrassment, she didn’t want Mor to think that she was leading him on, but could she trust her enough to tell her what was really happening. “I wouldn’t lead him on if I knew there was no way I could be with him.”

Mor purses her lips but she seems happy enough with Nesta’s answer. “Okay, that settles that then,”

she replies putting an arm through Nesta and leading them towards the stairs. “I think we’re going to be great friends.”

Nesta rolls her eyes and wonders how she ever thought she could hate this girl over a guy.

She moves down the hall towards her room, wanting to fall into the soft bed and never wake up. “Hey!” she turns to see Cassian jogging down the hall towards her. “Where are you headed? The feast is that way.” He points behind him.

“But my soft bed and warm bath is that way,” replies pointing towards her door.

He catches up to her and they fall into a nice silence. “So,” she pipes up as they step in front of her door. She thinks about that night he walked her back from the library and awkwardl it had been, that was only a week prior, time was moving so quick.

“So?” he questions stepping in front of her like he did that night.

She crosses her arms, “You never told me your deepest darkness fuel-worthy desire,” she retorts. “I told you mine, so you get to tell me yours.”

He smiles down at her mischievously, “I guess it’s only fair,” he returns, glancing up and down the hallway to make sure no one was nearby. “You can’t laugh and you can’t tell another soul.”

“Laugh? Like you did to mine?” she retorts with an eye roll but nods nevertheless. “I promise.”

He steps forward, his face dropping low so his mouth is right by her ear, she wanted to pull away but she couldn’t. “My fuel worthy desire-,” he says, pausing, making her heartbeat with anticipation. She was ready to shove him if he said anything stupid but the word that falls from his lips stuns her. “You.”

Her breath catches, as he pulls away enough to look her in the eyes, she blinks up at him. “Did I scare you?” he asks, worry laced through his tone. He moves to pull farther away but her hand reaches up to catch his coat. She shakes her head, swallowing the lump in her throat, as she pulls him closer towards her. He doesn’t take long to meet her halfway, neither of them caring in that moment who sees them.

“You just keep surprising me, Nes,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly, pressing his forehead into hers.

“Good surprises I hope,” she replies, fighting the urge to pull away, she had never been this vulnerable in front of anyone before. He chuckles, shaking his head, as he reassures, “The best.”

Chapter Eighteen: 

Cassian sprung awake to the sound of pounding on his door, he groaned, pulling away the covers and slipping on a shirt as he moved towards the door. It was probably Amren, welcoming him home with a pile of work. He opens the door reading to start the morning off with a quick wit comment but it falls short from his lips when he sees the King standing there. 

The King takes in Cassian’s appearance practically pulling him apart with his eyes. “You weren’t at the feast last night,” the King replies, stepping through the door and looking around Cassian’s room, before turning to face him once more. “You missed the announcement of guests staying with us before the ball, I would think the Captain of the Guard would want that information.” 

“I was catching up on the work I missed while away, my apologies,” Cassian begins, looking around to make sure there was nothing incriminating, even if there wasn’t the King would find some way to scold him about anything. “My second in command, Amren, was there. I trust her to have the list ready for me to go over.” 

The King hums but doesn’t move. He was here for another purpose. Cassian wishes he would just outright say it without making Cassian guess. “I can go speak to her first if you would like,” Cassian retorts, hoping that would satisfy the King enough that he would leave. 

“Are you sure there isn’t another stop you would like to make?” The King asks his eyes narrowing to watch Cassian’s expression which lucky for Cassian was simply pure confusion. He racked his brain for anything that happened before he left, he hadn’t made the list yet, perhaps the King was waiting for the names. 

“I am not sure-,” but before Cassian can finish the sentence the King extends a magazine towards him. He grabs it looking at the cover. It was when they were arriving home, Cassian stood behind Nesta while Mor was taking a picture with a young girl. Cassian’s eyes narrow. “What am I supposed to take from this?” 

The King lets out a breath of frustration, pointing to where Cassian’s hand was placed firmly on Nesta’s lower back. That’s when the headline caught his eye, “The Selection Affair?” 

Cassian can’t help but worry, had anyone seen them last night? He had been foolish to kiss her out in the open where anyone could report back to the King. “There was poor security at the airport, I didn’t want to lose her,” Cassian replies with a shrug that he hopes didn’t come across too relaxed. “Rhysand is one of my best friends, even you can see that, I wouldn’t ruin this experience for him. If you don’t believe me, even you know I value living more than I do a girl.” 

The King chuckles and it irks Cassian. “I don’t believe you, but I have no proof not too. Just know, if you do find yourself in a relationship with one of the selected, you won’t be dying,” The King replies and as he steps out the door, he turns back towards Cassian and with a crooked smile says, “You’re a prisoner to me, Cassian, and I found that killing your girlfriends fuels you. Don’t test me.” 

Without another word the King strolled down the hall as if not just dropping a bomb onto Cassian. He knew the coincidence for beginning a relationship with a selected member, but when he was near her, all he could think about was her. He always thought subconsciously that Rhysand would protect him but not even Rhysand could help him when he didn’t even know the extent the King had on Cassian’s life. 

He shut the door, turning back towards the dark room, he wouldn’t be able to go near her ever again. He slammed his fist against the wall next to him, blood dripping down his knuckles as he did it again. He couldn’t even tell her why he had to stop. 

It would be easy enough, he told himself as he made his way to his office where he would have to do the work he left behind. He would be so busy with the ball that he would make every excuse in the book not to be near the selected. He let his mind trail to after the ball when the girls who start dropping in numbers to the point where he would have to talk to her or if she was picked, if she became Queen he-

He stopped his escalating thoughts, he knew she wasn’t the type of girl that would play them both. She wouldn’t have kissed him if she still wanted Rhysand. He couldn’t let himself think of her like that even if it would pull him away from the thoughts of her. How she felt in his arms, how she tasted, how-

“Welcome back, did you have a nice vacation?” He turns to see Amren moving down the hallway with a stack of folders. “New recruits, you still know how to do your job, right? Didn’t lose your touch on your week and a half vacation?” 

He rolls his eyes as she drops the stack in his hands. “It was a blast, I even got a tan line from sunning myself,” he retorts, unlocking his office and shoving the door open. 

“I hope you are nice and recovered, because I did absolutely nothing while you were gone. Have fun with your massive workload,” she taunts. 

He chuckles as he drops the files on the desk. “Don’t be jealous, Amren. One day you’ll feel joy again, I believe it,” he responds, his eye catching on a note that was tucked under his door, it was caught under a cabinet. 

“I prefer to do my job then run off with a selected,” Amren responds leaning against the door frame and reaching into her pocket to pull out a parchment. “I also have the list of the prestigious guests that will be staying at the palace leading up to the prince’s birthday ball. I have a star next to the ones already here.” 

Cassian moves around his desk and grabs the list groaning at the first name. “Did you really think he wouldn’t be here? He’s the prince's cousin,” Amren pipes up knowing exactly what name he was groaning about. 

Cassian shakes his head, scanning the rest of the names, before looking back at Amren. “I was hoping that he would at least go home, why does he need to stay at the palace the whole time?” he asks. Amren purses her lips as if hiding something. “What do you know?” 

“It’s all gossip, I wouldn’t think too much into it, especially when it comes to Tamlin but apparently some guards saw him with one of the selected while you were gone,” Amren responds with a shrug. “They were seen embracing last night, I am not sure who the girl is, but it’s Tamlin so who knows if there’s any honesty, however-,” 

“Tamlin would also do something like this and not care about the repercussions, the King can’t kill his nephew,” Cassian finishes for her. He hated Tamlin for putting Rhysand in such an uncomfortable position, but wasn’t he doing the same last night? Embracing one of the selected? It didn’t matter, he would never be able to talk with Nesta again. “Do we know who the girl was?” 

Amren shrugs half-heartedly, “No proof, we know it’s not Nesta, and they were seen in the south wing so that most likely scratches every girl that’s in the north wing,” Amren retorts and before Cassian can even ask her to make him a list of the girls and their rooms she pulls out another piece of parchment. “Honestly, I should have your job.” 

“Trust me, Ams,” Cassian says looking over the list, “You do not want me as your second in command but I will see about getting you a raise.” 

Amren rolls her eyes, both of them knowing that the King would never think of giving her a raise or even prompting her, he barely wanted her in the spot she was in. “How about fixing the hot water instead, I am tired of taking cold showers,” Amren replies. 

“Consider it done,” Cassian says, giving her a smile as she moves down the hall lifting a hand in goodbye. Cassian pulls the door shut, grabbing the envelope, and ripping open the seal. Someone must have slipped it under the door before he left in a hurry to be with Nesta and her family. 

Whoever wrote it was in a hurry as he took in the rushed writing, the ink smeared together blurring some of the words. “I know you're looking for the spy, your suspicions are correct, we do have a mole hidden in the selection. I’ll let you figure that one out, Cas. I will let you know that we have something big prepared to celebrate the prince’s birthday. ~T” 

Cassian wants to crush the paper in his fist but he needed it as proof for when he ruined Tomas Mandray’s life. Threatening Cassian like this, purposefully taunting him, this was all a game to him. What did a well established man have to do with a rebellion besides being bored? 

“Captain,” a small voice says from the doorway, a young maid barely sixteen stood staring up at him with frightened eyes. “The King wanted me to give you a message.” 

Cassian slips the piece of paper under a stack of books, not ready to show anyone else the contents especially a young maid scared of the King. “Very well, let’s see it,” Cassian says, trying to soften as best he can not to scare her anymore. 

“He wants me to tell you that he wants extra guards during the week, while everyone gets ready for the ball, especially on the selection,” the maid squeaks out barely looking at him. 

Cassian’s eyebrows furrow, of course Cassian would set up extra guards so the King had sent her for another reason. “He wants the ladies to be extra protected, particularly, Nesta Archeron,” the maid responds flinching at the name. Cassian wonders what the King had told her about Cassian, why she was so scared. “He has requested you be Nesta’s guard, he sees potential in her and wants his best guard to protect her.” 

He swallows the anger, “Very well, if the King comes to you again let him know that I received his message and will implement it by tonight,” he says, falling back into his chair, the girl stayed there staring at the ground. 

“He wanted me to make sure you had everything you needed,” the girl responds. “Is there anything I can get you?” 

Cassian rolls his eyes at the twisted gesture in this cruel game. He noticed how she looked like Nesta with the dirty blonde hair and light eyes and wondered if the King had chosen her because of those reasons based on her fear and the King’s reputation he had his conclusion. “No, thank you,” Cassian replies seeing the relief flood through her. “Thank you for giving me the message, you are free to go.” 

She hurries down the hall without another word. 

~*~

The guests that had already arrived as well as the selected girls were at dinner. Nesta had smiled at him as soon as he walked in but he turned away from her, his eyes hard and unfazed as he turned to say something to Rhysand. 

He didn’t miss how her shoulders fell. 

He stood behind her through dinner, catching the King’s gaze many times, who was more entertained by the scenario that he had put Cassian in than the Prince of Spain's conversation. He didn’t look at her too long, only keeping her in the corner of his eye, enough to make sure she was ok without letting himself get lost in the thoughts of his hand in her hair or fading into her eyes. 

Those eyes that the gentleman sitting next to her complimented often. 

Cassian’s teeth clench as he heard the drunken words slip from the gentleman’s mouth, his feet urging him to step forward as he saw Nesta move her seat farther away from him and his wavering hands but as soon as he was going to risk it he glanced up at the King once more, seeing his lips curl up in a cruel smile at Nesta and the handsy ambassador. 

Fury filled him as he realized that the King was setting him up. He was waiting for any physical proof to send Nesta to her death. 

The dinner moved slowly as Cassian fought every muscle in his body as he watched ambassador Handsey talking loudly to Nesta about her appearance, he was glad when Rita came over to chat with Nesta pulling her away from him. He watched the ambassador give up on intruding in their conversation and move on to another group, Cassian doesn’t miss the disappointment on the King’s face. 

The crowd begins to disperse as soon as the Queen takes her exit, Cassian wavering as Nesta continues chatting with Rita and laughing. Even the King takes his leave, his eyes burning into Cassian’s before he disappears into the hall. Nesta says her goodbye, before turning and leaving, Cassian follows behind her not wanting Nesta to know that he was assigned to her. 

It would be easier on the both of them if they didn’t have to talk. Nesta circles back, moving away from her room and towards the south wing. Cassian brow furrows as he watches Nesta move down the hall, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one is following her. If she was the mole they gave her no training whatsoever. 

She stops short, moving into the shadows, but Cassian can see her clearly looking down the hall. He wonders what made her hide but Tamlin and Rita appear down the hall moving towards her door. They’re whispering to one another but it doesn’t look like a lovers quarrel. Rita seems angry and Tamlin, as always, is taking it like a joke. 

“I am not giving you anymore information, your going against the plans, this isn’t the Tamlin show. You can’t use us to get back at your cousin or his friends,” Rita snarls before opening the door and slamming it shut behind her. 

Tamlin lets out a string of curse words, moving to knock on the door but deciding against it and moving to the hall out of sight. Once the hallway is clear, Nesta moves from her hiding spot, back down the hall towards where Cassian was. 

She would see him whether he wanted her too or not, so he stepped out into the light, causing her to jump back in surprise. “Cassian? What are you doing here?” her tone was not as welcoming as he wanted it to be. Realization hit her and she crossed her arms, “Did you follow me here?” 

“Yes, but only because it was King’s orders. I am assigned to guard you,” Cassian explains, deciding not to go into anything else the King commanded him to do. He couldn’t believe that Tamlin was the T in the letter, it had to be him. “Why did you follow Rita?” 

Nesta rolls her eyes, “I don’t need to tell you anything,” and her voice is hostile, he knew she was building a wall between them and it hurt, but he knew in the long run it would protect her better than he could. “Rita was weird tonight, I wanted to make sure she was okay.” 

Cassian felt guilty for thinking she was the mole, he wasn’t even following her that well and she barely noticed. All she cared about was making sure her friend was okay. “Are you walking me back?” Nesta asks, he couldn’t quite grasp the tone. He stays silent. “I don’t know why you’re acting weird but after overhearing that conversation I don’t really want to walk back alone, you can even do you ten steps behind me.” 

He couldn’t say no. Nesta wasn’t the kind of girl to ask such questions so he gives her a curt nod watching as she moves down the hallway before walking behind her.

[tsarisfanfiction]

I have three, hope that's okay :> 9, 22, and 25

Of course that’s okay!  Ask as many as you like; I don’t bite!  I love answering these things :D

Fanfiction writer asks

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write? Ones I don’t understand, which sounds kinda obvious so I’m gonna expand, using some examples from different fandoms.

The idiots.  The ones who go off and do things while you’re screaming at them to not do that you idiot because nope, I cannot get my head around why anyone would do that, how am I supposed to write you when I think this is the daftest thing ever?  Obvious example is Luffy from One Piece.  Don’t really have anyone I’d put in that category from TAG... Fischler maybe but I might also be stalling on that wip because it’s a pov from another character I struggle writing.

The characters I don’t like.  When I say I “don’t like” a character, I less mean “you’re a bad guy and you’re mean so I’m gonna sulk at you because you hurt my fav” aka Danzou from Naruto, Blackbeard from One Piece, or even the Hood from TAG because those sorts of characters can be some of the most fun to explore, I mean “I don’t think you’re well-written/designed and there’s nothing for me to get to grips with to write”.  Biggest example for me at the moment is Kayo from TAG (I know some people love her and I’m sorry but I just can’t).

The characters that are too nice.  The ones who sit there and just love everyone and everything and let people get away with murder and this really annoys me because I love those characters!  I love the ones that sit there and go “you know what, that’s okay and I forgive you here, have a hug”.  Those are the ones I’d actually like to meet irl!  I just apparently can’t write them!  And if you haven’t guessed by now, yes, I’m talking about Virgil from TAG.  Could also include the likes of Hinata from Naruto or Orihime from Bleach in that, too.

Teenage boys.  Teenagers in general, actually, but boys specifically because not only am I not a boy and was never a teenage boy, I also spent the vast majority of my teenage years at an all girls’ school and never actually... interacted with teenage boys!  So I have no idea what goes on in their heads!  (I ask my boyfriend and he just tells me teenage boys think with a different head and nope, not going there, thanks, boyfriend).  I should also clarify this means normal teenage boys, not ones in anime who don’t act like teenagers because they’re busy being child soldiers, because yes I can write most of the Naruto boys just fine.  This is mostly a long-winded way of me saying “hi, Alan from TAG”.

There are other random characters I struggle with for no good reason, but normally if I’m struggling with a character I can shove them in one of the above boxes.

22. Do you listen to anything while you write? Yes, yes I do!  I don’t like silence, I don’t like working in silence, and sometimes music is the real kick to get my muses playing.  I have a playlist labelled “Scott” but I’ll be honest, it’s basically my whump playlist.  Songs include GET UP, special, Through the Ghost etc. by Shinedown, Do or Die, Over and Done, Danger Zone etc. by Amaranth, Sharp Edges, Heavy, One More Light etc. by Linkin Park, and Downfall of Eden, Jaded, Bleed and Scream etc. by Eclipse.

If I’m not listening to that, I’ve either hunted down Tir na Nog (Celtic Women) or something else of that genre - which I often use for Penguin and Shachi inspiration - or I’m in the depths of Eurovision because I’m trying to write something that isn’t whump or angst and that means upbeat party time!

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them! They get bizarre, but yes I do!  One current one that floats around (that I actually chatted about to @janetm74 the other day) is an AU of my TAG fic Silent, where the whole thing ends up in a time travel AU with the adult boys (normally just Gordon, I’ll be honest, but it varies) somehow ending back in time and finding out about Scott’s struggles and taking it into their own hands to sort it out and basically just give Scott the help and support he needs to get through it.

Long Way From Home has these going on constantly, but at this point I don’t know how many of them are going to actually end up in the fic (just the other day I was thinking about something and went ‘oh that’d be neat’ then realised I can put that in) so I’m gonna keep a lid on those for now, just in case!

Although I’ll admit because this is not happening: my muse does like to go “what if they managed to somehow watch through a portal what happened in the TAG world and react” kinda like those old fics where people would write the characters literally sitting down and watching their own show, only it’s the TOS guys watching TAG.  But no, that’s not happening.  Anything they learn about TAG is gonna be from TAG!Scott (whether he’s willingly/knowingly telling them or not).

Tales From The Heart likewise gets a lot of those, but they normally end up as later chapters, especially if they’re a different pov for the same event!  That’s the fun and games with writing lots of mini stories - I can expand on them later!

[blackidyll]

It's been a long while since I've been on Tumblr, but here I am, trying to get back into my usual rhythm of life. Mainly: I'm alive, but I'm really, really tired.

The end of 2019/beginning of 2020 has been really insane. I fell sick for most of December - the whole cough/cold/sore throat trifecta that got so bad I finally ended up on antibiotics on New Year's Eve. I actually took two weeks of leave in December, but I was so sick and busy during this time that I basically got no rest whatsoever, and when I got back to work in January it was to drop straight into an absolute tsunami of work - one huge project ended the day before Chinese New Year, and immediately after CNY holidays I had another huge executive event to prepare for (I was working over weekends), and when that ended last week I got YET ANOTHER project dumped on me. Covid19 and the political situation in my home country is also taking its toll. I feel like the past two months has been an absolute blur - mostly of stress and negativity.

I'm so tired, you all.

Anyway, I'm trying hard now to pull back and strike a balance between work and having down proper time. I owe quite a few of you replies to messages and chats, and TBH there's like 60+ comments in my AO3 inbox that I haven't had a chance to respond to. I'm going to try hard over the next few weeks to get to all of them. I really appreciate every message and comment I get, because they constantly remind me there's still people and the entire world out there, when sometimes it's so easy to get caught up in my head with all my stresses and worries and the day-to-day grind.

I'm going to go throw a bunch of things in my queue to get this place kickstarted again, but in the meantime - have some fic recs. I've been reading a lot of fic to keep afloat the past three months; these are the WIPs I'm following at the moment. I'm completely out of creativity so my own fics will have to wait, but it always gives me a boost when I see some love for my WIPs, so if any of these appeal to you, give them a read and drop some love to those authors too.

The Bureau Files series by Catsafari [The Cat Returns, episodic/case style canon-based sequel; Baron/Haru]

i kill giants by diasterisms [Star Wars new trilogy; canon-based sequel to The Rise of Skywalker; Rey/Ben]

Ragnarǫkr, Part 3 of the Sharingan Rising series by weialala [Naruto; canon-divergence with supernatural elements; Sasuke-centric, technically Sasuke/Naruto but is more Sasuke's relations with everyone]

Peripeteia, Part 4 of the Carry Your Heart verse by mondaze [Shingeki no Kyojin; canon-based A/B/O verse, eventually diverges at the retake Shinganshina arc because Erwin lives (\o/); Erwin/Levi]

Just Another Day by Tierfal [Fullmetal Alchemist; post-manga series, Roy has severe PTSD; pre-relationship Roy/Ed]

try something new by gdgdbaby [Nezha (2019); post-movie oneshot where the two have grown up and gotten their bodies back; Nezha/Aobing]

WIPs that haven't been updated recently but since I'm on a roll, you all should read them:

Nukume Dori by Leareth [Tokyo Babylon, X/1999; canon-divergence, kind-of time travel with X!Subaru falling back into the TB!timeline with all his memories intact; Subaru/Seishirou, a lot of trio interactions with Hokuto] 

boy with a coin, Part 5 of the signal to noise series by twigcollins [The World Ends With You; post-game sequels exploring the consequences of Neku winning the long game and Joshua deciding to bring him back to life; Joshua/Neku]

(more info and my comments on each fic under the cut, because they get long)

The Bureau Files series by Catsafari [The Cat Returns, episodic/case style canon-based sequel; Baron/Haru]

I've been (re)watching Studio Ghibli movies on the weekends and I fell completely in love with The Cat Returns (I love Whisper of the Heart but I missed this movie somehow?). This wonderful sequel fic series focuses on an adult Haru that becomes a full-fledge member of the Cat Bureau and goes on plenty of adventures with the Bureau crew. It's also 500K words (!!!) of delicious slow slow slow SLOW burn between Baron and Haru. I just found out the author will be posting the next installation in the series this month, so you know. Perfect time to read the existing content and then follow the author's weekly updates for more of this amazing series.

i kill giants by diasterisms [Star Wars new trilogy; canon-based sequel to The Rise of Skywalker; Rey/Ben]

Yes, I'm a Reylo fan. I find the grey dynamics between Rey and a vaguely redeemed Ben Solo fascinating. I think it's because I was such a huge Luke and Mara Jade shipper from the Legends days. Anyway, I'd recommend pretty much all of diasterisms's Reylo fics (they nail the characterization + growth arcs incredibly) but this WIP in particular is a direct TROS sequel, which is great for all us fans who were very WTF about the way TROS ended. Also - lots of Force ghosts :D

Ragnarǫkr, Part 2 of the Sharingan Rising series by weialala [Naruto; canon-divergence with supernatural elements; Sasuke-centric, technically Sasuke/Naruto but is more Sasuke's relations with everyone]

I think my bookmark gushes enough about this series (and the previous installment) that I don't need to rehash it here. But anyway, this sequel is flipping amazing. The world building is so incredible omg. The wait between chapters is very long but so very worth it.

Peripeteia, Part 4 of the Carry Your Heart verse by mondaze [Shingeki no Kyojin; canon-based A/B/O verse, eventually diverges at the retake Shinganshina arc because Erwin lives (\o/); Erwin/Levi]

I'm usually very, very particular about my A/B/O verses (the concept squicks me a little but some writers subvert the trope and those are amazing) and this is a really great take on the trope - Erwin and Levi bond first out of necessity and then have to rebuild/realize a romantic relationship out of it later; they're already such strong friends and incredible partners that the bond actually throws them out of whack initially lol. But the evolution of their relationship is so well written, and the sub-plot about Levi being targeted is also great. Anyway, in this particular sequel goes back to the canon-timeline; Erwin survives the Beast Titan charge, everyone finds out about Marley, and the Survey Corps goes on a mission to make contact with the outside world. I don't actually follow the manga but I know enough that this sequel is really intriguing me. Also, Erwin lives. Thank goodness Erwin lives.

Just Another Day by Tierfal [Fullmetal Alchemist; post-manga series, Roy has severe PTSD; pre-relationship Roy/Ed]

Everything Tierfal writes is golden, but this one. Oh man, this one. It gets dark, and sometimes that's bad if you're already stressed (your mood doesn't need more depressing things to drag it down) but sometimes... you also want to indulge in it, because when you see a character go through hard and traumatic times and make it out the other side, it gives you hope too, you know? Anyway, right now at chapter 2, it's all trauma and pain for Roy, so take caution while reading this fic, but......... Ed. Oh my goodness, Ed. He tries so hard. He doesn't give up. This fic reminds me a bit of But Not Buried This Time, where Ed is the one drowning in his guilt... I remember thinking while reading that fic, "goodness, everyone needs a Roy like this in their life." Well, for this fic? I just keep thinking, "goodness, everyone needs an Ed like this in their life."

try something new [Nezha (2019); post-movie oneshot where the two have grown up and gotten their bodies back; Nezha/Aobing]

not a WIP but what the hell. So this version of Nezha is hell of a lot different from the Nezha I remember of my childhood (in that....... Nezha 100% kills Aobing lol and I remember being very conflicted because I love dragons and Nezha kills a lot of them, but at the same time deity!Nezha is pretty badass?). So anyway, someone with creative control DEFINITELY has shipper glasses on when they made this movie, I cannot get over how adorable Nezha and Aobing are. I really enjoyed this movie, it was so over the top and funny. And they made Nezha and Aobing literal soulmates? This fic is cute and adorable because it's Nezha and Aobing traveling and helping the world after they grow up and regain their bodies, and it's just tons of adorable teenage(?) confusion where they're hovering on the edge of friendship and something more. THEY ARE SO ENDEARING I love them!!

Nukume Dori by Leareth [Tokyo Babylon, X/1999; canon-divergence, kind-of time travel with X!Subaru falling back into the TB!timeline with all his memories intact; Subaru/Seishirou, a lot of trio interactions with Hokuto]

Instead of dying on the Promised Day, 25-year-old Dragon of Heaven Subaru wakes up in his 16-year-old body during the Tokyo Babylon timeline. Having seen what the future holds, he decides to continue with his original Bet with Seishirou - this time fighting to win. In the latest installment, we go pass the TB timeline into the years before 1999 and the changes that the divergence makes is just absolutely fascinating, plus we start seeing more of the X/1999 cast, whom I love and adore.

boy with a coin, Part 5 of the signal to noise series by twigcollins [The World Ends With You; post-game sequels exploring the consequences of Neku winning the long game and Joshua deciding to bring him back to life; Joshua/Neku]

I love Joshua so so much but he digs his own bed willingly and he lies in it with all the broken pride he can muster. He's very much the master of forfeiting the game before he can lose, except this time it's Neku standing beside him, and Neku is very, very stubborn. Trust your bloody partner, Joshua (I say, with all the love in my heart for this Joshua and this poor beleaguered but incredibly stubborn Neku and the all the game mechanics and worldbuilding in this series). Also, the latest cliffhanger is killing me but I'm ready to see Joshua go absolutely feral on anyone who would dare touch his city and his partner.  

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (2)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, youtuber phil lester, dan howell is not a youtuber, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter), 6.4k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"Do you remember the Wilkins place?"

"I'm well, thanks." Martyn's voice is dry, and Phil finds himself grinning at the wall despite himself. "How are you?"

"Good," says Phil. It's mostly true, although he could do without the piles of clothes he's sorting through. He holds his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he picks up a top of Sophie's and starts a whole new pile that he's calling delicates, aka things he's absolutely going to screw up somehow. "People think the Wilkins place is haunted."

There's a beat. Presumably, Phil's brother is trying to fit the name into adolescent memories to see where it slots in. "Oh, that wreck in Rusholme? It hasn't been condemned yet?"

"Apparently it's still a hot spot for binge-drinking teenagers," Phil says.

"Well, sure. But haunted? Really?"

"That's what I said!"

Phil feels a little vindicated by the skepticism in Martyn's voice, to be honest. His friends hadn't taken his weird feeling seriously at all.

"I mean, it's a dump," says Martyn. "More likely to be haunted by a bunch of rats than anything else. Why haven't we heard this before?"

"According to my sources," Phil says, only feeling a bit ridiculous about referring to a bunch of strangers on the internet as 'sources', "the activity only recently started. Which makes me think that someone's lying, or maybe one incident kickstarted everyone else's imaginations?"

"Both could be true. Why don't you ask Ian to go check it out?"

It's not exactly a sore spot, but something inside of Phil still twinges at the question. "He's a little busy, isn't he."

"So am I," Martyn says in that same dry, familiar tone that makes Phil feel as comforted as his mum's fretting or his dad's bad jokes do. "And yet here you are, on my phone."

"You don't have a toddler," Phil points out.

"I don't? Yet here you are..."

Phil snorts a laugh and drops all of the socks he's gathered into an empty basket. It's as good a place to start as any. "Shut up, Mar. I'm at least six."

There are, literally, enough dirty socks and pants between the four of them that Phil has a whole load of just underthings. He spares a moment to be grateful to Sophie for not including her bras, because he'd have no idea where to begin with those. He sighs and picks up the basket, fitting it against his hip with one hand so he can hold his phone with the other.

"Well, I can ask around," says Martyn. "I think my friends might be past the point of sneaking into abandoned houses to party, but maybe they've heard something from their annoying little brothers."

"Ha, ha," Phil says dryly. "Think I should contact some of the people making these claims?"

"Deffo," says Martyn. "If you can record them, it'd be best."

"Yeah, that way I can use them in the video," Phil hums, setting his basket on the washer and opening every cupboard to try to find the detergent. "I mean, if they're okay with that, obviously."

"I actually meant because your bullshit detector is dysfunctional, so me or Peej will have to tell you if someone's lying."

"Wow, rude. Whose fault is that?"

"Yours," Martyn informs him dryly. "Just because I told you Santa would pull you up through the chimney doesn't mean you had to believe me."

Phil rolls his eyes, but he's grinning. Maybe it's just a big brother thing, or maybe it's their personalities, but Martyn isn't wrong - Phil has a hard time telling when someone is lying to him. Martyn was always good at lying with a straight face and seeing right through Phil's outlandish stories.

"I still blame you," says Phil.

"Alright," says Martyn. "When are you coming to visit?"

"Probably not ‘til after this one," Phil says slowly, glancing at the kitten calendar on the fridge. They'd let one of their milder housemates pick this year's after everyone got tired of looking at Chris' previous choice of nude knitted puppets.

"Yeah? You gonna head up north for this one?"

In the very last cupboard he checks, Phil finds the detergent. He wants to be annoyed about it, but the truth is that Holly's habit of switching around the kitchen when she's anxious has saved many a pack of biscuits from expiring behind some flour. Phil has never once been useful to anybody when he's having a meltdown, so.

Phil absentmindedly loads the washer while he considers Martyn's question. Maybe it would be best to check the place out for himself, see if anything's really going on. He likes being on-site best, trusts his own gut more than he trusts strangers' eyes.

The problem, of course, is that Phil's childhood home is up for sale, he has no money for a hotel, and Ian's gone and got himself a child. The last thing Phil wants to do is impose or, like, get roped into babysitting. A trip to Manchester might be out of the question for him right now.

"Maybe," Phil says, noncommittal.

Martyn sees through him in an instant, like always. "Want me to ask Mum if they've got any viewings next weekend? I'm sure you know not to trash the place."

"Have I ever once trashed the place? Don't answer that," Phil adds, remembering the shaving cream incident.

A huff comes down the line, and Phil feels the same pride at making his brother laugh as he had when he was seven and making weird noises out the car window. Yeah, he definitely needs to go to London soon, the Isle afterwards - he hasn't seen his family in way too long.

"I'll let you know what's buzzing, if anything," says Martyn. "And I'll call Mum for you and all. I know you get weird about asking them for favours."

"I get weird about asking anyone for favours," Phil says instead of a thank you, because if he gets weird about asking for help, then Martyn gets twice as weird about reacting to gratitude.

"Except me."

Phil smiles, watching the rainbow of socks and pants spin. "Yeah. Except you."

--

Laundry does end up taking Phil most of the day, but he doesn't mind much. It's the least he can do when Chris always does the first draft edit for him, PJ reminds him to take his EMF meter and his meds when he's packing for an overnight, and Sophie sends him pages upon pages of research while she's at work. He's so fond of these people, and he appreciates all they do for him, but being in debt to them - and not in sole control of his projects - makes Phil feel like he's got ants crawling up his arms.

While he waits out the machine cycles, Phil starts putting feelers out into this story. He checks the sources linked to him again and shoots off a couple of direct messages and emails to see if any of the people posting about the Wilkins place are eager to chat one on one.

He's got his laptop set up at the kitchen table and he's on his third coffee of the day when it occurs to him that he's not out of the woods of owing favours just yet. He clicks back into the Tumblr submission that started this spiral.

He decides that he needs to thank this person, at the very least, and maybe offer to buy them a coffee or something when he's in town. They did so much of Phil's grunt work that it feels weird not to pay them back somehow.

"Well, I can't exactly do your laundry," Phil murmurs to the screen. He hopes none of his other housemates are milling around to hear him.

Another click, and he's on the blog. It's minimalist and monochrome in a way that makes things easy to read, but not very interesting to look at. Phil's eyes start to glaze over as he scrolls through, because it's entertaining enough but - well. It's a typical Tumblr blog. That familiar mixture of memes and rants about social issues and some gifs from shows that Phil doesn't have time to watch. There are a lot of familiar walls of text tagged as personal posts, but Phil still can't parse them without really trying.

They do reblog Phil's video posts, though. That makes him grin.

He scrolls back up to the top of the page to shoot them a message and immediately gets distracted by the bio.

winnie. 21. any pronouns.

For someone who sent Phil a wall of text that could be mistaken for copypasta at first glance, it's surprisingly succinct. Phil takes another swig of his coffee and tries not to get caught up on the last part of it.

Any pronouns? What does that mean, any pronouns? What if Phil uses the wrong ones? He isn't exactly a queer theory student, and as much as he supports everybody under his little rainbow umbrella, he's got to admit that a lot of things still go over his head.

He dithers for so long that his laptop screen goes black, and he makes a face at himself in its reflection. Surely he's overthinking this.

Hi!, Phil types, and then accidentally hits enter. He was just trying not to send the fan a paragraph back, but, fine. Oops. So I'm looking into the things you sent me on the Wilkins place and I'm really impressed by the amount of time you put into this? Like it makes MY job a lot easier haha. Is he a triple-texter? He's a triple-texter. The first one didn't count anyway. So thanks!!!!! I'll def give you credit in the video, but is there anything else I can do to pay you back?

Not literally, he wants to add right after he's sent it. Oh, well. He can't just keep spamming this poor person's chat. He hopes it's obvious that he'd offer monetary compensation if he had it.

Phil leaves the Tumblr tab open and works on editing for a little while. It's almost frustrating how bad this video is, how little effort and energy Phil has started putting into these, and he doesn't know how to fix it short of rethinking his entire career.

He could easily keep churning these out for as long as people watch them, but. He's not having fun anymore.

The Phil on his laptop screen is asking questions, wandering around a cemetery just to see if anything will happen, and Phil can't help comparing it to things he did last year, the year before that, the year before that - it feels like his content is declining as his enthusiasm for the topic does, or maybe vice versa.

Phil zones out for so long that the dryer chime goes off from the hallway, echoing through the old, creaky house. He'd given up on sorting the loads after the fifth shirt that could belong to any of them, so he just takes his own things out and folds his housemates' clothes into one basket.

They can figure it out, he's sure. There's only two bedrooms between the three of them, so there's only two closets, and Phil has gone so long without knowing who's officially sharing that it would be awkward to ask now.

Phil swaps the load over and goes back to his laptop, even though the very last thing he wants to do is continue editing and uploading this mediocre video.

The thing is, Phil doesn't need his content to be perfect. He's happy to post things that just make him laugh or have a nicely spooky vibe or whatever, he doesn't need to solve mysteries every month or two. It's just that. He can hear how little he cares about it, lately. It won't be long before people notice, if they haven't already.

Phil sighs and exits the project. Maybe this video is best left unposted. He's not happy with it at all.

Maybe, if this Wilkins place video doesn't pan out, Phil can start redirecting his energy into a different type of creative output. He's got so many stories bouncing around in his mind, he just needs to figure out how he wants to tell them.

It sounds like his father's voice inside his head, telling him you can't chase ghosts forever. He wishes he still had the gumption to disagree with it.

His laptop makes a little noise, and Phil blinks back to reality. He has to click on a few different tabs to figure out where it came from, but then he realises that he's gotten a response on Tumblr.

Phil smiles despite himself and gets ready for another difficult-to-read message.

Sure enough: UHHHHHH hi hello what the fuck i didnt expect you to say anything this is so weird i am being so weird right now um like no problem? i was procrastinating an essay and this was more fun to research so you dont have to thank me or pay me back whatever that means like i was just fucking around its fine but thank you?????

Phil thinks about the four word Tumblr bio again and snorts. Maybe Winnie wanted to seem as cool and minimalist as their theme itself was.

Procrastination or not, I appreciate it!, Phil replies. Would it be ok if I use you as a reference?

?????????????? i mean yeah but what the fuck, he gets back almost immediately.

It's nice to see you know some punctuation! Sorry if it's weird to reach out like this, I just wanted to like acknowledge the work you put in. I don't have to mention you in the video if you'd prefer!

The sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut interrupts Phil's nervous typing. He freezes for a moment, fingers still on the keyboard, but then PJ comes in the kitchen with a little salute and several bags of craft supplies, and Phil can breathe again.

It isn't that the other people who live in this house are bad people. Far from it. It's just that, of the people Phil has opted to share this large space with for nearly two years, only three of them have made any kind of effort to understand Phil. The others are nice enough, he supposes, but sometimes they come and go and new people replace them and - Phil isn't exactly good with change, is the thing.

So he relaxes when he can talk to PJ instead of making small talk with someone who thinks he's weird and too messy. "Hey! How's your day?"

"Better than yours," PJ laughs. He drops all the bags on the table and starts puttering around the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"Please. And it wasn't so bad, I got some work done."

"Yeah? Any new info on the new haunt?"

It's incredible how genuinely interested PJ always is in Phil's work. Phil grins down at his keyboard and shrugs a bit. "Some. Mostly just poking around right now, though. Mar's asking his friends too. Oh, and I thanked the person who sent it in."

"That's good," PJ says. He's putting the kettle on, because that's what PJ does when he comes home. "How'd they react?"

"Mostly confusion," Phil laughs. He glances at his screen to see if Winnie has responded - they haven't - and chews on his lip a little bit. "Hey, Peej? If someone says any pronouns are fine, what does that mean?"

"Generally," PJ hums, "it seems like it would mean any pronouns are fine."

"Oh, shut up." Phil runs a hand through his hair, always anxious about getting stuff like this wrong.

"I'm not joking," PJ says, although his tone is still light.

"Oh. So it just... doesn't matter?"

"Not to some people, I guess." PJ leans against the counter as he waits for the water to boil. At least he's smiling, although Phil can't help but notice that it's a little patronizing. "You do know that I'm not a gender guru, right? I'm barely a gender novice. I failed gender out the gate, buddy."

Phil knows his cheeks are pinking up a bit, but he rolls his eyes. "Shut up," he repeats. "You still know way more than me."

The shrug he gets in response makes Phil huff a laugh. This isn't something they talk about, but Phil has been present for enough of Chris and PJ's conversations that he'd gotten the idea.

He wonders if PJ cares that he's bringing it up. Is he making PJ uncomfortable? They don't talk about this.

"Stop spiralling," PJ says easily. His smile is warmer, now. "I don't hate you, nobody hates you, and the fan who doesn't care about pronouns certainly doesn't hate you. If you're that worried about upsetting them, though, you can always ask."

Maybe he's known PJ too long. He's grateful for it, still, so relieved that he doesn't have to voice the swirling anxiety of doing something wrong when he only has the best intentions.

"I guess I could do that," Phil mutters, embarrassed by how easily he's been read.

Winnie's responded by the time Phil looks back at the chat window, a lmao yeah ofc thats fine i just cant believe you want to, im not trying to b weird ive just been a fan for a really long time?? (used a comma for you too) (and brackets) (youre welcome) that makes Phil smile.

Awesome! And are the name Winnie & they/them pronouns fine to talk about you with, or do you prefer something else for this?

no yeah thats good idc how you refer to me, is Winnie's immediate response. It's stupid how much of a load feels like it's been lifted off of Phil's shoulders at that easy reassurance.

"You were right," Phil informs PJ.

PJ nods, solemn, as he stirs his noodles. "I often am."

"You're annoying, also," says Phil. "Hey. D'you wanna come up north with me?"

"Phil," says PJ dramatically, holding the wooden spoon up to his heart. "Are you asking me to run away with you?"

"No, absolutely not, stop making that joke." There's no way in hell Phil is going to keep putting up with this from both of them, and PJ is more likely to listen to him than Chris is.

PJ laughs. "Yeah, yeah. You going to see the haunt?"

"If my parents are okay with us hanging out for the weekend, yeah."

"Oh, okay," says PJ. "We're just waiting on confirmation that Kath and Nigel want to spend time with you? Might as well pack now."

"Your stuff's folded," Phil says helpfully. PJ throws a noodle in his general direction. It flops onto the floor between them, a sad, wet spiral of a thing, and Phil touches his nose at the same time PJ does.

"Well, one of us has to pick it up," PJ says in his Reasonable Adult voice, as if he hadn't thrown it in the first place.

Phil looks at his laptop, valiantly pretending not to see the floor noodle, and blinks.

and i mean i havent seen any of this shit firsthand but if you need to ask me anything about the stuff thats gone down im always free. like literally always.

[thisartemisnevermisses]

Going Under 6/-

Paring: Mostly Steve Rogers x Reader; little Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, out of character acting, probable smutt in later chapters, sad reader, broken, sweet ending.

Summary: You work as head oversight for the Avengers. After a party and a little kiss, you start crushing on Steve. Only an event from you’re rookie years, is sabotaging the possibility of your crush to evovle into something more.

A/N: My writing is getting better with every chapter. I’m notice that finding the wright words gets easier. Here’s another long chapter, with some steamy fluff. Enjoy Going Under.

Chapter 6: Lithium

“Y/n stop it, that’s nonsense.” Bucky says angry, “If I thought about you in that way, I wouldn’t bother asking you, your side of the story. I’m sorry for that ass of a best friends. They way he reacted was not okay.” Bucky said smiling mockinly, taking a slight glance at Steve.

“The next day we had to report to Fury in the Avengerstower. Steve was also there, he apologized to me.” You smile, remembering your talk with Steve.

"y/n, where were you. We were looking for you." Callie and Lexi walk into the quinjet, both of them draging one of the man of your team. Both were shitface drunk, and clinging onto Callie and Lexi. "Fury wants to talk to us about..." Lexi stops talking, seeing your face. Your eyes are red and your make-up is running from the tears you've shed. "Fury can wait." Callie says and starts the engine of the quinjet. "Let's get back to home." The next morning, you're up early, trying to connect the server for updates. Sipping at you're freshly brewn cup of coffee, you welcome Owen into the room. He complaints about the noise you're making and the pounding headache he’s got. Offering him a cup of coffee, makes him hurl and sprint for the badroom. You chuckle at his failed attempt to outdrink a God.

Everyone is slowly waking up and joining you one by one in the commen room. Owen and Avery hiss at every sound and wear sunglasses, dramatizing their hangover. Once the team is compleet Robins start to brief you on the request of Fury. Ordering you to leave as soon as the briefing is over.

You’re sitting in the quinjet, nervous as hell, chewing your lip. What had Fury to talk about, that it even couldn't wait a day. After that short briefing, Robins had sent you off to the Avengerstower. Excluding all important information for you.

You look around in the quinjet, Lexi and Calli are chatting while in the cockpit. Owen and Avery have a death aura surrounding them. What an idiots, not man enough to handle their hangover. What if Fury wants to split the team up. For nearly 8 years they where your home, your family. The ones that stoot by you through every important event. Thinking of saying goodbye, made you sad. You shake the thought out of you’re head and decide to join the girls in their talk.  

Once you where in the tower, Hill had ordered all of you to sit in the kitchen/diningroom. Avery and Owen were hidding in the corner of the diningroom. Trying to get some sleep. Callie sat on a stool and Lexi decided too sit ontop of the counter. You were pouring yourself a cup of coffee, really needing the caffeine shot. Callie was talking about a guy she met yesterday and how sloppy his kisses where. She compared him to Lassie the dog. Lexi almost fell backward from the counter. Igniting another wave of laughs. It felt good to laugh, the events yesterday made you feel like that rookie agent of 10 years ago. You were a grown woman and didn't need to apoligize. Nor be treated like a nobody. Owen yells at you for laughing to loud. Having a pounding headache and feeling like shit. "Well, you should't drink that much if you can't hold it." you yell the last part, earning a growl from Owen.

Your conversation gets interrupted with the distant sound of two low voices chatting. Rounding the corner were Steve and Bucky. Steve stopped talking, once he saw you standing in the kitchen. He looked at you, but didn't make eyecontact. Seeing the supersoldier before you, made you blush. An electric jolt goes through you, remembering last nights kiss. How his hands where everywhere, how he kissed you and they made you feel dizzy.

"Y/N can we talk?" Steve interupts the silence, looking at you, ignoring the looks from the others. Earning a low hustle from Bucky, Avery and Owen. "Oh, sush you guys." Setting your cup on the contour. "Do not, I repeat do not touch my coffee! I mean IT Avery, don't touch it." looking at Avery who flipps you off.

Lexi squeezes your shoulder, looking worried at you. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Callie winks at you "Oh, and don't forget to make a fist with you're thumb on the outside. It won’t break your tumb, when you hit him!" She shouts after you. --------------Your talk with Steve--------------

"Listen y/n I want to apologie for my behaviour yesterday." Steve starts, his hands in his pockets and trying to make eyecontact.

"Tjee, ya think." snapping at him, avoiding his eyes. There so mesmerazing. Even if he treated you wrong, you still feel a pull towards him. You feel a little flame in the pit of your stomach. The effect that Steve has on you, feels disturbing. Are you even ready to let all of those feeling into your life again?

"Could you at least look at me, I'm trying here." Steve moves closer, demanding a reaction from you. Taking a step back, your back hits the wall behind you. Were you a trained agent, well so much for checking your envirenmont and exits-point. Great strategie.

Breathing out, you look Steve in the eye. "What do you expect, Captain Rogers?" You bite at him, oh god he stands so close, he's so freaking tall. With one step, he could close the gap between you and him. You would stand chest to chest, feeling how the other breaths. Just you're uniform sepperating your bodies from eachother. You become aware of his warmt and scent, your breathing speeds up. This doesn't go unnoticed by Steve. "Are you okay?" He asks concern in his voice.

"I'm fine." You snarl, letting out a shaky breath. Why does he have that effect on you. There is a logical explanation for all of this, you're sure of it. Maybe it's because of your lack of sex, yeah that's logical.  

"Really, it seems too me, your breathing irregular and your face is flushed." Steve leans in closer, closing the gap between the both of you.

"Are you really fine." he whispers in your ear. If your weren't that mad at him, you would jump him. How you loved to rome your hands over his chest, tracking every muscle. Your breath is caught in your throat, biting your lip.

Steve leans back, enough to make eyecontact, "It doen't seem like your fine." he says while ghosting his lips over yours. You only have to lean in and you could kiss him. Likking your lips, seeing Steve looking at them, makes you desire him even more. Does he want this too? Should you take the leap?

Within a second the moment is over and Steve takes a step back. You immediatly miss his warmt and regret not responding to his almost kiss.

"I was out of line, I didn't want to intimidatie you. You.....have an affect on me and I don't know what to do with it." Steve confesses bashful.

You smile at his confession, a color spreading over your cheeks, looking to the ground. Should you confess to? Steve’s feeling bolt and leans against the wall, capturing you between him and the wall.

You look up into his eyes, they show how sincerely he meant this. You let out a sigh "Well Captain..," you start.

“Hey Cap, were expected , briefing starts in 5." Clint interrupts. He sees you standing with Steve. Greeting you with a grin. Just fucking great, out off all people, this asshole does see you talking to Steve. Seeing the way Steve shifts on his feet, avoiding eye contact and flushed cheecks, makes you sad. Is it so hard to be with you, speak with you, without behaving like an idiot. Is it a crime to interact with you. How foolish of you to believe you had a shot at romance. Maybe Steve talked to Clint and would think you're a quick fuck.

Angry you speak up "You know Captain Rogers, I don't need your apologie, nor your company. I was foolish to think that you were nice and meant well. I thought I learnt my lesson, but I guess not.” Vile is all over your face and tears stinging in your eyes.

"No, really, I was out of line saying that too you yesterday and just now, please accept my apologie." Steve says caught offguard, surprised by your reaction. This wasn't going the way he would liked it to go. He wanted to make it up to you, even aks you out. He can't hold himself in your presence. He wants to kiss you, be intimate with you, take you over and over again. He felt like a teenage boy, who's hormones are raging. And now you're angry with him, because off his stupid behaviour.

"Ooh.." you shuckle spiteful, "Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. Yesterday I had loved to know you better, today I pass." Your eyes are hard and show disappointment.

"I'm sorry, let me make it up to you. I acted like an ass and really like to get to know you, I'm not fooling around. It was so nice and refreshing talking to you yesterday." Steve takes your hands in his, staring in your eyes.

You open your mouth to reply, but decided not too. Rethinking what you want to say, you look at Steve "I need to think, Captain." and you walk away. Walking back to the kitchen you scold yourself, there goes your shot at romance. How could you be so foolish, thinking that an Avenger would be interested in you. Love wasn't kind to you, you had loving friends and there it stopped. Experiencing something like an relationship was not reserved for you. You blame karma for it, being a homewrecker, made you lose your shot at love. Thinking about the grin Clint had worn when he saw the both of you, made your stomach turn, asshole. On the other hand, Steve seemed sincere and really sorry. Maybe you should think about it, giving the both of you another chance. A fresh start would be nice. 

“There you are, y/n Fury is ready for us.” Callie calls, running towards you. “He, you okay?” She asks, laying an arm on your shoulder.

--------------In the office--------------

“Welcome, beta team.” Fury motions for all of you to sit. “I want to talk about joining the Avengers. As an analyzing and colleteralinterpet team. As you have noticed those idiots, are wrecking havoc with their way off running missions. We all know how New York looks like after their encounter with the Chitauri, lets not forget the way Sokovia looks after Ultron. At the moment all leaders are talking about an accord, binding the priveliges of the Avengers. We want to keep the Avengers the way it is and prevent that fucking accord." Fury ends his speach.

"If I'm correct, you want all of us, to join the Avengers, to oversee their missions. To prevent collateral?" You ask, looking at your teammates. Fury wouldn't have all of you here, if he didn't mean the whole team. "Including Robins?" you look at Fury, he eyes you and huffs. "Robins, gets a new team of rookies. Coulson warned him, to use your full potential. He didn't, but I will." He answers. "You will be leading this team." Looking straight at you, earning small coughs and gasps from your teammates.

"Sir, I don't think..." Fury interups you. "Agent y/l/n/, as I told you almost 8 years ago, don't fucking doubt my descisions. You can do that, you're more than capable." Fury adds, his eyes soft, knowing it will be tough on the first months.

“Yes sir. I will do my best.” You smile, looking at your team. “And we will help you, you can do it.” Lexi smiles at you, the rest of your team nods.

“If that’s all sir, I would like to consulate my team how to start.” Standing up from your chair, you wait for Fury to react. All he does is nod and continues his paperwork.

When you exit the office of Fury, Steve is leaning against the wall of the frontoffice. You walk by, he watching you, searching for contact. Deciding to ignore him, his head drops in dissapointment. Once your past him, you turn around, "Hè Rogers, wanna make it up to me..Well here's your chance..were going to work together." you smile at him. Hopefully this was the wright decision.

“Fury asked us two years ago. The choice of becoming the Avengers analyse-team was easy. Hoping that working together would lead to seeing Steve more often. We started the next day with evaluating of all of your missions and reading information about all of you. Preparing a colleteralplan and an advisory report for future missions. It was a hell of a job, but we managet it, meanwhile I was starting crushing on Steve and found it difficult to interact with him, at least when it was about small talk. When the missions didn’t go as plannend, everything went from bad to worse.” Sipping at your coffee, you look at the clock. You’ve been talking for nearly two hours. Bucky had let you talk freely about your expericence, asking a question once in a while. It was relieving to tell your story to Bucky. But at the moment he seemed distracted. He was looking away and making wierd faces. Was he talking to someone? Shit, was someone sitting behind you, listening to every word you say. Were they fooling you again. With one swift movement you stand up, surprising the two man. Bucky and Steve look at you, you stare wide-eyed at Steve. “For how long have you been sitting there?” you ask.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

She’s So High: Chapter 7

Summary: 90’s karaoke and your snarky wit seem to have revived the charming side of one Bucky Barnes. Now that he finally has you home all to himself, perhaps he can put some of that charm to good use. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): Smut 18+. Swearing. Kissing, Hand Job, Oral Sex (male receiving), Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex. Word Count: 2,635 Notes: Idea was inspired by this 90′s playlist. This chapter was beta read by the lovely @viktordrago. You all go thank her cause without her there would have been A TON of really laughable errors. Thank you so much to everyone for their likes and reblogs thus far. Anyone who left comments has literally melted my heart. I love you all.  Smut Note: ***DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, INTERACT WITH MY WORK IF YOU’RE NOT 18+*** It goes without saying, unprotected sex....please make sure your partners are clean and you use an agreed upon form of protection (if relevant).

You sprint up to the tower mildly annoyed you’re being made to run on one of your days off. The public doors to the tower are locked for the evening so you head for the private entrance. After scanning your biometrics, you push the door open only to see a smug Bucky standing in the elevator with the door hold button on.

“Took you long enough, Doll.” He says dangling your phone back and forth like a pendulum feigning as if he’d waiting longer.

“Not everyone has super serum steroids running through their veins. Plus, you try running with someone’s cum leaking out of you. Not fun!” you rant while attempting to steal your phone back.

“Not so fast, darling. All that talk of my cum inside of you is turning me on.” He says puckering his lips in a taunting manner while continuing to hold your phone just out of reach. You roll your eyes at his arrogance. Taking a deep relaxing breath, you spring into one of your favorite field moves in hopes of being able to grapple your phone to freedom.

Bucky must have known you’d take the bait. He counters you gently and with lightning precision has you pinned against the elevator wall with your hands helplessly overhead; hips locked in place by his own.

“Did you really think I don’t have your favorite move memorized? You and Nat, so predictable.” he tuts with his face close enough to smell the hints of whiskey on his breath.

His left hand takes over holding both of your wrists in place; the cool metallic palm dwarfing both your own. To any onlooker, Bucky’s position over you would have looked predatory but you basked in the return of his confidence. His right hand tucks your phone securely in his back pocket before taking a firm hold on your hip.

“Ever think this is the exact outcome I wanted and you just fell for it?” you counter, testing the waters. “Winter Soldier’s getting soft.”

“I think you’ll find it's quite the contrary, doll.”  His hips grind against you and you feel him stirring in his jeans. Sensing your resolve is crumbling, he peppers light kisses along the column of exposed skin on your neck. You attempt to hold back and not give him the satisfaction, when he begins sucking and nipping at your soft flesh, you reluctantly cave.

The two of you are so thoroughly lost in one another you, don’t hear the elevator ding once you reach the living quarters.

“Agent Barnes. Agent Y/L/N. Floor 90: Living Quarters” Friday prompts. Bucky doesn’t come up for air. His metal arm releases your wrists from their willing prison only to tap lightly on your thighs. You know what he’s suggesting but you pause.

“Up you go!” He says picking you up with ease.

“Bucky Barnes you put me down this minute! I swear to god if you drop me-” His footsteps pause and he pulls back from kissing your neck. One eyebrow is raised and his mouth is firmly set in a smirk.

“I’m not exactly light as a feather, Buck.” His expression flickers to confusion as his head cocks to the side.

“Being picked up makes me hyper aware of my body.” Your eyes fall from his face now self-conscious about meeting his gaze.

“You mean aware of these?” He squeezes your bum appreciatively. “Or these?” Now holding you with his right arm and caressing the curves of your hip and thighs. “You must mean these?” Palming your breast in admiration.  “Darlin’ I ache for every damn bit of your body. I wanna worship it all.”

Your eyes raise from their spot on his chest. “I’m serious, sweetheart. Besides, you’d have to somehow grow to Scott’s freaky large Antman size to pose a challenge for this super strength.” You beam and peck his nose lightly.

“Thank you, Buck.” He kisses you back with renewed fervor while continuing the trek down the hall. Finally in the privacy of your room, he lets your body gently descend his with a controlled grace; lips never leaving yours. You come up for air only to realize you’re in Bucky’s room not your own.

It shouldn’t surprise you; but it catches you off guard regardless. You’ve only ever seen small slivers of his room in the past. His door was always shut like a not so subtle “keep out” sign. If it is open, it’s only so he can peak his head out to chat with Steve to decline a run. Bucky senses your curiosity and lets you explore.

On the largest window-filled wall sits a beautiful walnut desk. You’d imagined it would be bathed in sunlight come morning. The desk is bare except for a set of small plain back notebooks stood between leather wrapped bookends. Upon further examination, you can see each notebook has a range of dates on its spine.

“Therapy has helped a lot; but my memory isn’t one hundred percent still. Whenever I remember something or have a dream, I write it down in those.” Your heart clenches with empathy.

On the wall near his closet is a cork board with a small collection of photos; mostly black and white prints. Looking closer, you find a scrawny Steve beaming a stress free smile you rarely see on him now. Bucky’s arm is slung over his shoulder. They look so young; clearly void of the pressures of Captain America and Winter Soldier. Squinting at the more faded photos, you make out what looks to be his family interspersed with some drawings you recognize in Steve’s style. Right in the center of the collection is a group photo of the Avengers from the holiday party last year.

On his nightstand is a well-worn copy of War of the Worlds next to an ambient noise machine. His duvet is a calming shade of blue which perfectly coordinates with the camel leather headboard. It’s warm and welcoming.

It almost feels intrusive to see the intimate details of Bucky’s space and disturb his calm oasis. Your heart swells with emotion knowing how much he must trust you to have brought you here.

“It’s beautiful, Buck. Did you decorate it?” you feel his arms circle around your waist from behind as you continue to look around.

“Of course I did, darling. It took me a long time to figure out what I wanted; but I finally have something that feels like mine.” He gives you a quick peck on your cheek before walking over to the nightstand.

Still wonderstruck by his room, your revere is interrupted by music filling the space. It’s a song you recognize from one of your private playlists. You turn to face him; his hands once again encircling you. “How did you-” You’re pushed back into the plush duvet with a short yelp.

“Your playlists may be private but you didn’t turn on a private listening session.” He raises his eyebrows like he couldn’t possibly be more proud of his sneaking abilities. Making grabby hands, you feel his weight settle on top of you.

“So you spied on my listening habits? That’s pretty impressive technology navigation for a senior citizen.”

“I mean… they don’t call me a ghost story for nothing.” He says with a lighthearted chuckle. “Plus I’d watch all that senior citizen talk, missy. What does that make you?”

Bucky’s warm lips mold themselves to the contours of your neck making it difficult to think. “A harlot?”

He hums in response while marking you with another love bite. His hands roam to your breasts caressing them in earnest while pressing you back into the down duvet. His hand moves to the small of your back to hoist you up further on the bed, quickly settling his weight back onto you.

Despite the earlier fervor you both shared on the elevator, you’ve wordlessly communicated a temper of pace. His flesh hand cups your jaw gently as his tongue slips in to meet your own. All urgency lost, you allow yourself to savor Bucky. The now familiar scent of his body wash envelops you as you attempt to memorize his tastes and sounds.

Fingers trace and graze. Palms grip and smooth across planes and dips of one another's body. Your lips only separate to gasp needy puffs of air before diving back into each other; never wanting to be apart for long. Each article of clothing is removed reverently before the skin below is explored.

“Fuck darlin’-” He says stealing his lips away. His eyes are a vivid shade of blue but show no signs of hesitancy. There’s a subtle flush across his cheeks which matches the beautiful color the kissing has brought to his plump lips.  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You rise up to meet his lips again; gently pushing him off the bed before your hands move to the waistband of his jeans. The belt joins his other clothing strewn on the floor and you’re able to get the zipper down with far more grace this time. His hands settle on top of yours and you both push his jeans and underwear down together. He pulls you to stand and rids you of your final garments.

“You finally gonna let me have my turn, Buck?” He’s lying in the center of the bed stroking his length languidly; the mischievous grin you’ve grown to love makes an appearance.

“Doll, you know you don’t have-”

“I want to… so badly do. I want to.” You crawl up the bed and settle between his legs; kissing his firm thighs as you near your goal. “You’re not the only one who’s thought about this for a while, honey.”

“You been thinking about me during your alone time, doll?” He says folding his flesh arm behind his head as he looks down at you.

You’re certain there’s another snarky comment coming but it gets choked off in his throat as you lick him from base to tip. Knowing full well you have all evening, you set out to figure out what combination can draw those beautiful sounds from deep in Bucky’s chest.

A particularly strong moan followed by a choked breath alert you to a sweet spot. You continue to work the same pattern with heavier pressure; savoring the rhythmic tensing of his thighs in response. Bucky leans up slightly as if he’s going to tell you to stop; but you gently press him back down. He sighs deeply while pressing his head further back into the pillow; hips raising on their own accord, pushing him further into your mouth.

“Doll, I’m-”

He lets out a low growl from deep in his chest before he spills into you. You continue your motions; touching softer while adoring his little whimpers of oversensitivity.

“Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t give you much warning.” His voice carries a heady coarseness; indicating his post-orgasm state.  Kissing your way up his thighs, abs, and pecs you hum gently in his ear-

“Didn’t need one, sweetheart.” You kiss the shell of his ear before moving to his pillow soft lips for a deep kiss. “Besides, you’re not exactly subtle.”

He chuckles lightly and shifts his weight pinning you beneath him once again.

“As perfect as that mouth of yours feels, I’m not done with you yet, doll.” Your legs part wider allowing him to settle between them. Allowing him time to recover, you both kiss with renewed desire. His cock, previously semi-hard, stiffens once more. His hips roll and dip allowing his shaft to slide between your wetness. Each pass provides a delicious friction to your clit making you crave him inside you.

“You’re such a tease, Bucky.” You intend for it to be a stern warning but it comes out a desperate plea.

“Hush baby girl. It’s not teasing if I deliver on my promise.” On the last word he angles his hips slightly and pushes into you.

Having been acquainted with quick and dirty, you’re surprised how delicate Bucky is. His kisses seem to land on your body exactly where you crave them. The gentle glide of his cock against your walls stretches you deliciously; passionate and slow. Before, your release came on like a freight train. Now it’s as though he started a small fire and was stoking it with each push and pull inside you.

“Bucky! That feels so-” your words die into a whimper as the fire breaks forth and spreads like a wave over your body. You spasm and clench around his length as he continues to rut into you.

“I’m so close, darlin’.” He manages to last a handful of thrusts longer before he releases into you. He quieter this time but it seems his release is endless.

Bucky stills above you; barely supporting his weight as to not crush your form beneath him. He pecks your lips so softly before gently lifting off you.

“I’ll be right back, doll.”

You watch his firm backside retreat into the bathroom. Releasing a deep sigh you reach for your phone in hopes to update Natasha and Steve so they don’t worry about you. Bucky returns from the bathroom with a soaring belly flop onto the bed before he scoots up closer; burying his head in your neck. Distantly, you hear the stream of the shower he started in the bathroom.

“Watcha doin’?” He slurs lazily against your skin.

“Just updating Nat so she doesn’t come hunt you down.” you say chuckling.

“You’d defend my honor.” He wraps his arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Opening the message on your phone a flush starts to creep to your cheeks. You see a string of concerned messages from Steve, Sam, and Wanda wondering if you need consoling. Tony sent a rather inappropriate message asking if Barnes had “sacked up”.

At the top of your list you see Nat’s messages turn from positively frantic to utterly annoyed. The last one reading, “I’m home now. I can hear you sickos through the wall. He better be treating you good for me to endure this torture.”

You return back to the message threads debating who to respond to first; or if you want to respond at all.

You contemplation is interrupted, “Why am I in your phone as ‘Grumpy Barnes’?! How rude!”

Bucky apparently has woken up from his mini post-coital nap. You’re about to defend the name (blame Sam) when he launches a sneak tickle attack. Eventually you manage to wiggle free from his clutches and sprint to the awaiting warmth of the shower. Bucky walks in and soon has you wrapped back in his embrace.

The gentle caresses of his fingers up and down the wet skin of your body paired with the steamy mist from the warm shower have your eyelids feeling heavy. You lean your body back against Bucky letting him support you while he washes you in his body wash. You find so much comfort being surrounded by his scent.

“What do you wanna do now, doll?” You hum sleepily; the length of the day catching up with you. “How about we curl up, watch something on Netflix and crash? You nod slowly into his chest.

After drying off and ignoring searching for pajamas, you’re nestled amongst the pillows and comforter. Bucky pulls you close under his arm while turning on an episode of Twilight Zone at a low background volume. Your eyes flutter shut enjoying the warmth of his body pressed next to yours. It’s quiet but you hear him mumble something inaudible before sleep takes you both.

“Doll, I know I’ll never been the same Bucky I was before Hydra got ahold of me, but if the new version of me feels how I do now, I don’t think I mind.”

[jj-ktae]

Game Seven : Missing

Title : Survival Games Genre : AU, Angst, Fluff, Romance Pairing : Taeyong x You (reader) Summary : A deserted island and no hope left. There is only despair and this boy, Lee Taeyong, who seems to be the only survivor. You both were on the flight KAL134, from Auckland to Seoul. Words : 4792

Go to my masterlist for previous chapters! 

Game Seven : Missing

“You’re alive! I thought you were dead, I thought I’d never see you again!” Timothy didn’t waste any time and pulled you out of the beach so you could both talk. He looks overwhelmed, shocked, but mostly happy to see you before him, healthy and breathing.

You’re stuck, shock getting the best of you and blocking any kind of reaction. You don’t know how to speak anymore, mouth shut and eyes wide. You let your boyfriend grab your shoulder, his eyes moist.

“Are you okay? Where were you all this time?” He shoots questions, not even caring about your initial shock. He lifts a hand to let it rest on your cheek. “I’m so relieved, Y/N.”

You lift your head, gaze landing on his overwhelmed face. Only one thing crosses your mind, one thought, just one little thing which makes you opaque to any sort of feelings.
 You had completely forgot about Timothy.

You don’t know how it happened since it’s not like you don’t love him at all. It all became natural, his missing presence not a problem as the days passed but you can’t find an answer as to how it happened.

Of course you’re glad he is alive. He looks healthy, fine even.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Timothy presses, messy and hurried. He looks mostly relieved but also freaked out, a little bit too shaky.

Like he saw a ghost.

“I’m fine.” You shake your head lightly, brain almost hitting your skull and sorting your thoughts. You have to speak, even though you’re at a loss of words. “I woke up on the beach, I was found by Taeyong and we kind of survived until he…” you stop. Timothy has no idea about who Taeyong is and you might not want to explain in details what happened.

The latter tilts his head, blinking. “Taeyong?” he pauses, “Oh, the guy who almost died?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. You don’t want to think about how he almost died. “Yeah, that boy.”

Timothy smiles, relieved yet in need of more information. “And then? How did you survive? How did that kid got himself so hurt he almost died?” He asks too many questions; he wants to know things you don’t want to share. “oh wait,” He gets up before you can tell him to drop the subject and comes back with your worn-out luggage, torn and dirty from the plane crash. “I kept it with me in case you’d come back.”

He gets up again and grabs a folded piece of clothing. “There, eat something. It’s my personal stock.” A banana falls right on top of your luggage and you snort, putting it aside to inspect your belongings.

Timothy doesn’t seem to be tired or starving. He is the same man, with his oval face and huge eyes. He has food, his own belongings and was doing just fine while you almost lost your mind. You can’t speak right now so you move your head, doing your best not to sound suspicious because you know he would never let it drop if he ever discovered your uneasiness.

This is how Timothy is. He has a temper he needs to control and speaks his mind freely. You like people like him who can speak for themselves and defend their choices. He isn’t the quiet, shy type who observes. He acts before he can think of a plan and regrets nothing.

That’s why you don’t even blink when he adds, “I kept food, personal supplies and medication here, just for me. Put it back there if you ever grab something okay?”

Of course he would do that.

But today you’re not in the mood. You blame your newly found conscience on the unusual situation and you can’t keep quiet anymore. “Why can’t we share?”

Timothy sounds bewildered when he scoffs, like he can’t understand you and your stupid logic. He kneels in front of you and looks around before lowering his voice. “It’s survival, Y/N. You need to think about yourself first. Everyone wants to share and we end up with tiny pieces of food. I went to the forest and worked my ass off to feed people who don’t even try to help?”

You know how Timothy functions so you don’t find his behaviour shocking. He cares about his comfort and is a strong believer of the ‘You only get what you deserve’ motto. It’s no surprise that he wouldn’t want to feed everyone here or would at least keep more for himself because he considers he worked harder than the others.

But you don’t understand why he would start bullshitting you when you just reunited. He looks so obsessed, like he is already over the fact that he found you and is already complaining about how things don’t go the way he wants.

You let him speak, frustrated but not caring enough to explain the situation. There’s nothing you can say anyways.

You’re supposed to be the exact same type of person.

Before the plane crash you would have agreed. You would have found him wonderful for being able to provide for others yet you’d strongly nod at the ‘you can’t take care of the laziest’ part. It’s true, after all. If you want to survive don’t count on others.

Then you think about Taeyong. You think about how useless you were and how he destroyed his health because he had to take care of someone else.

And you can only sigh when Timothy leans against you to hug your disturbed self.

You fall asleep that night, wondering how on earth you can’t be happy when you reunited with the one person who was supposed to grow old and die next to you.

Life is different. It’s the only statement you can make when Solene asks about Timothy and your happy couple life. She doesn’t tag along as much as she used to which you noticed. You also discover that people aren’t keen on staying around Timothy so you often end up alone with him, by the sea or laying down. The few people he talks to are men around his age, all eager to fly from that island and sharing the same thought on how everyone is so stupid and commanding.

You don’t know what to do with yourself most of the time, your boyfriend busy running around in hope to grab more food that he hides, proud of himself. You let him be, not finding it in yourself to tell him to stop.

But he is a damn bastard and you don’t know if the situation turned him into one of if he has always been that way.

You barely see Taeyong, who seems to be hiding in the jungle most of the time. You often see Doyoung, walking around and giving medication to everyone who needs it and his other friends seem to be helping around quite a lot.

That Johnny boy is always checking the fire and cooking tons of fish while another one of their friends, a built guy with a way too delicate face, brings huge pieces of wood. You see women peeling fruits and sewing clothes, boys bringing shellfishes and everyone else cohabit with little to no problem. They all seem to enjoy helping each other, glad they have someone to reciprocate their good deeds. Everyone seem to have at least one talent, one thing they share around the community.

And then there’s your boyfriend, his friends and you. You feel isolated, selfish and arrogant for not sticking around everyone else. You have plenty of food stored behind piles of luggage, a lot of toiletries and even medications you’re quite sure you didn’t bring.

Eventually you try to tag along, greeting Solene who is trying to open a coconut with too little success.

“Need help with that?” You propose, hands reaching for the intact coconut but she stops you, her smile tight and face blank. “I’m not the best but I can give it a try.”

“I can manage just fine, thank you.” Her tone is icy, freezing you from the inside and you don’t know what exactly you did wrong for her to react that way. It’s true you’ve been distant for the past week but it’s not like you don’t want to be around the others.

It’s actually the opposite.

You let your arms go limp by your sides, defeated. Solene sends you one last awkward look and walks away, running toward one of the men near the fire to ask for help right in front of you.

Great, the whole island hates you, now. You sit on the tree trunk she was using to smash the coconut, a tired hand rubbing your face.

“Are you okay?”

You raise your heavy head to meet a puzzled Taeyong. He waves swiftly and sits next to you, the same tired sigh leaving his parted lips and when you don’t answer, he chuckles “You don’t look okay.”

“Is it that obvious?” You demand, pulling your legs to your chest and leaning your head against them. “Are you feeling better?”

Taeyong hums, leaning against a spared tree. “Doyoung says I’m getting there.” He is the same quiet guy, the one who speaks only when necessary yet he doesn’t make the situation awkward, even though you both know he has been avoiding you like the plague.

You glance at his feet, moving on the sandy ground, quietly. He looks like a kid.

“Everyone hate us.” You confess, not knowing why but feeling better as soon as the words left your lips.

Taeyong waits for you to add something but he only sees your back. You’re busy watching the beach in front of you, kind of unhappy but mostly frustrated by the situation.

He coughs, not knowing how to handle an upset you after all this time. “I don’t think they do.” Taeyong doesn’t really pay attention to these things. He has no interest for what happens between people and mostly focuses on helping around and bring food. He shares his knowledge with everyone who want to listen and goes to sleep when the sun sets. He eats when he is hungry and chit-chats with his friends. It’s pretty much all he does.

He heard about these guys who stay on their own but never paid attention to what people said about it. He only saw how Solene avoided you and ran away, which made him approach you even though he promised himself he would stay away from you.

“It’s because you don’t pay attention to all the drama.” You murmur, raising your head to look at him. Your body moves to the side so you can face him and his face suddenly looks so serene and perfectly shaped.

He stares back, unbothered. It’s silent for a while, Taeyong not breaking the staring contest and even adding a soft. “You look healthier.”

Your smile is so discreet yet Taeyong doesn’t miss it and shakes his head, his inner self screaming at him to run away before he starts spitting nonsense.

“I’m glad you survived.” You hear voices and notice Timothy from afar, talking to his friends. “Thank you for taking care of me all this time, Taeyong.” You get up and stretch before walking toward a curious Timothy.

He is looking at Taeyong when you reach his level and he doesn’t look at you when you stop in front of him. “What were you doing?”

You roll your eyes, grabbing his arm to pull him away from the beach. “Just chatting.”

You don’t see how intense Taeyong’s gaze is as he watches the two of you leave.

He gets up when you disappear into the wild and cracks his neck. What a plot twist.

He is glad he found his friends. He never imagined them to be alive after all this time. He was convinced of their death until his health made him black out. Ever since that near-death experience, he feels lighter knowing they are by his side but still, while he should keep on living and do as if nothing happened, he can’t stay put.

He definitely can’t stay put when he has no one to take care of anymore.

It’s not like he is used to this. He knew nothing about how it feels to be of any use to someone. Taeyong had no idea about what it would feel to be responsible for one’s life, let alone provide for all their needs.

He never thought he’d feel so empty once it stopped.

Doyoung told him to stop thinking about this. He explained it was normal for people during survival, that they would all cling to whatever makes them feel alive and not be able to let it go.

He talked about coping mechanisms or something like that.

But Taeyong knows it’s not only about dealing with a merciless island. He might not know a lot about such subtle things, but he can feel it’s not only about psychology. It all comes back jumping right onto his face when he sees you walk away with Timothy.

He misses being around you.

If Taeyong had to explain how he started feeling this way, he would say it is all because of the situation. Nothing had prepared him to crash on a deserted island and even less being around a girl he met there. It all came naturally though. He started providing food and knowledge to make the situation bearable and keep the girl healthy, it then turned into something he didn’t do because he had to, but because he wanted to and it ended in a relationship of mutual trust and moral support in the middle of nowhere.

Taeyong knows it changed along the days, from a mere encounter to a necessity. Sleeping next to you became a habit which made him sleep at ease, sharing food became comfortable and undressing next to each other felt natural but even more than these, he had to discover how it feels to have someone take care of him. He had to grasp the whole concept of being dependant and have someone treat his wounds.

He had never felt so important to someone’s eyes and he discovered it as he was slowly getting worse and worse, in that forest. He never had anyone cry for his sake, hug him, comfort him when in pain.

So far he was the only one dealing with such intense feelings in a poor attempt to keep living a life he regretted too many things about. It’s exactly when he saw the tears prick in your eyes and your shaking hands on his skin that he understood it was going beyond a mere alliance against survival.

It’s only logical for him to feel weird now, as he often sees you walking around, an unwanted hand around your waist and a guy close to you. He isn’t mad at the situation for he has no right to, but he has trouble dealing with this.

Fortunately, he is used to have good things snatched from him before he could even enjoy.

“You’re spacing out again.” Johnny is the only one who seems to understand what’s going on. Mark is always so oblivious to what happens around him, Doyoung has to deal with so many injuries and people going to him whenever they are in pain and Jaehyun is busy going around the jungle, revelling in the joy of hunting and disappearing for a couple of days along with the old men who are confident enough to follow his pace.

Taeyong refuses to have anyone follow him. He doesn’t want to have to deal with another lost soul and it’s better this way. He has poor social skills, can’t even keep a conversation and he is quite sure everyone here fears him.

After all, he is still the “guy who almost died”. He knows nothing about the people here and his days are more focused on getting food and making the camp more bearable. He uses his skills to craft a couple of furniture, his busy body walking around the beach to make the whole place friendlier but his face blank enough to keep anyone at a safe distance.

You included.

He sits, cracking his neck because he spent the night wriggling into his sleeping bag again, “I’m tired, that’s all.”

Johnny can only snort, his tall body bending to meet his friend’s bored face. “I saw you with the girl.” He sits and taps his friend’s knee. “I’m sure she misses you too. She doesn’t look too happy every time I see her.”

“That’s because her boyfriend is a bastard.” Doyoung’s firm voice startles them and they look toward the door where a busy soon-to-be doctor stands, exhausted. “I can’t stand that guy and his friends.”

Taeyong seems puzzled when Johnny glances at him, so he starts explaining. He knows his friend and how uninterested he is of such gossips. “That guy, Timothy, he doesn’t really care about the whole camp, you know. He spends his days with his minions, gathering food for them to eat only and refusing to help.”

“He is so damn annoying. I don’t know how you survived with that girl if she is the same as him. He should be thanking you for taking care of his girlfriend instead of acting all cocky. Like we care about the bananas he hides behind his luggage.” Doyoung looks offended, puffs of air blowing his hair up as he scoffs repeatedly. “Anyways, I’ll be back later, I have to check a couple of dressings I did yesterday.”

Johnny chuckles once his friend is out of sight, only to turn around toward a pensive Taeyong. “Don’t tell him you like that girl.”

Taeyong stops moving, his face turning into a tired glare that means ‘I’m going to beat you up if you say this one more time’ but Johnny merely shrugs, not the least bothered by the situation.

Taeyong hates how quick-witted his friend is, right now.

He keeps on living his life, though. He goes around the jungle, brings food and builds furniture, helps with the fire because he is the only one who can make it without using a match, sleeps more than necessary and even swims to get fish near the rocks when the waves allow it.

You do the same. It gets hard to deal with a tensed Timothy who is always complaining about how he doesn’t want to get involved with the rest of the survivors.

You try to be okay with it but one morning, as you had yet another sleepless night, he arrives, delighted.

“Let’s get out of here.”

You almost choke on the water you’ve been trying to gulp down. “What?”

Timothy leans against a tree, whispering in hurried words, both excited and scary. “We found a small boat near another beach. The guys said it’s brand new. We just need to pack some stuff and cross a part of the jungle. We’ll go tonight.” He doesn’t even listen to your protests, his feet now aiming for his friends who look like they came up with the most devilish plan ever.

You stay put, shocked yet frustrated to be left behind, like you can only follow to whatever plan is being built. You want to scream at Timothy for being so selfish, you want to expose their ass to everyone on this damn island but most importantly, you don’t want to go.

Not when Taeyong is still here, dealing with the harsh reality of a broken plane and a deserted island.

He did so much for you and is still doing his best for everyone else. You feel like the worst bitch, the one who took advantage of a situation only to escape on her own. You want to provide for everyone else too, to prove you can be of any use.

But as Timothy calls you from afar so you hurry up and start packing, you just want to wake up from this nightmare.

--

“If everyone’s ready, let’s go!” You hate the guy’s voice. He nudges the whole group because no one’s in sight and the path is clear. Timothy grabs your hand and pulls you next to him, his shoulder heavy with a huge bag of food like you’re going to stay on the sea for months.

You look one more time behind you toward the quiet camp, wondering why on earth are you even agreeing on doing this.

“Y/N, can you hurry up?” Timothy pulls you with more force, making you almost trip. You sigh, trying to catch up with the rest of the team and it’s pitch black now around you.

Everyone is cautious, eyes scanning the dark forest and peeking behind them. You know the sounds so well, you almost missed them. They’re a mixture of birds chirping and leaves dancing against each other. A couple of cracking noises make everyone go crazy and they run when they think danger is coming their way.

How pitiful.

“Never trust the sounds you hear.”

“So that we can get eaten alive by a tiger or something?”

Taeyong laughs, tightening his grip around you as the wind gets stronger. “So that you can fall asleep instead of freaking out all the time.”

It’s one of those nights when you can’t sleep and the wind is chilly, it’s a moment of calm among the chaos. Every day ends like this, with you and Taeyong against each other. He turns chattier during those nights and grabs the opportunity to tell you not to lose hope. He knows he will have to tell you the same thing tomorrow.

“How can you be so relaxed?” You look up from your spot against his chest. “It’s like we’re not about to die every day.”

Taeyong hums, a long sigh leaving his parted lips. “All I know is survival. I don’t think I can let myself die here, do you want to?”

You shiver at the thought, not keen on rotting in between the trees and vanishing in the nature.

Taeyong chuckles, wrapping his clothes tighter around you. “Thought so. I’ll try not to let us die, then.”

“It’s starting to rain, shit.” One of the guys pulls you out of your reverie as you all walk between the trees. It gets stronger and stronger as you dive into the forest, now surrounded by huge leaves.

“I can’t wait to get out of here…” Timothy whispers as he helps you step on a high rock.  “I was only supposed to meet your parents.”

“Why are we running away from the others?” It’s the only thing you can think of. No matter how hard Timothy tries to be happy about the situation, you can’t seem to share the same interest and it shows on your face.

“Because it’s a small boat, we can’t take everyone out of here.” His tone is icy and face blank. You don’t know if he is being very selfish or caring about you.

You stop moving, parting from the rest of the group who is still walking. The rain makes it hard to hear, but even the pouring water can’t bother you. “I don’t think we should escape and let them die here.”

Timothy grunts and turns around. You know that look, it’s the one he gives you whenever you’re being what he calls ‘too much’. “Since when do you even care about the others, Y/N? Ever since I met you, I’ve never seen you give one minute of your time to someone else.”

He is right. You’re not the caring type. As much as you want to act all mighty with your speech about helping others, you never cared about anyone else but yourself. Timothy knows you so well.

Lightning makes you both jump in the middle of your talk and he grabs the opportunity to pull on your arm to join the rest of the group. “We’ll talk about this later.”

You’re about to protest and pull on your arm when he stops. “Did you hear this?” he turns around and blinks toward the trees, body starting to shake. “It sounds like an animal.”

You sigh, finally understanding why Taeyong made fun of you when you ran away from a wild boar thinking it was a tiger. “It must be a wild b-”

A loud growl makes you shut your mouth to look around. You’re quite sure wild boars don’t make that sound.

“Hurry the fuck up.” Timothy pulls on your arm harder to bring you behind him. “I’m not going to die right before escaping that shit hole.” He runs between the trees, almost flying and making it hard for you to follow. You keep on running, branches scratching your arms and ripping your skin.

“Where are they?” You yell between the heavy drops of water. You’re not even sure if you’re running toward the beach for they are nowhere to be found but Timothy doesn’t give up, even when the growl echoes a second time, closer than ever.

That’s it. You’re going to die.

“It’s behind us!” Timothy goes crazy, legs stomping the muddy ground in fear of getting caught by whatever is now chasing you. He sprints, pace fast and uncaring of whether you can catch up or not.

You’re almost there. You’ll find the beach and hide in the boat at it goes into the sea and takes you out of there. You’ll try to make them change their mind so you can go and tell the others about this. There must be a damn way to make things normal again.

But they were never normal in the first place. Not even once.

From the moment you opened your eyes on this island, it was nothing but a nightmare. Your brain doesn’t seem to calm down, it sends images after images of how kind Taeyong has been, how skilfully Doyoung treated your wounds, how nice Solene was.

Timothy only brought sorrow. He introduced another part of himself, turned you into a recluse, hated by people who are supposed to make this whole thing easier for you.

A thick root wraps itself around your ankle and pulls you to the ground, hitting your eyebrow arch so hard you instantly feel blood pooling as you wriggle on the floor, in pain.

Timothy looks alarmed, you’re quite sure you see him hesitate before he stops to look at you. “Get up! Y/N!”

Another growl brings tears to your eyes but you sniff loudly, getting up and limping as the pain in your knee slowly comes back. You’re out of breath, hair stuck to your face and body dirtied in mud.

And Timothy is nowhere to be found.

“Tim…?” You try, now running in hope to find the boy who was here a second ago. “TIM!” You yell when panic enters you, feeling both helpless and betrayed.

But the shadow before you is enough to make you give up, in the middle of the forest, soaked by rain and covered in dirt.

It is not a wild boar.

“Tim..” You whisper, sobbing pitifully.

Maybe it’s for the best.

The unknown beast gets closer, its loud breathing and grunting paralysing every muscle in your body.

This is how you die.

You don’t know how it happened. Well, you do know. It’s payback. It’s the price you must pay for living your life the way you did. You hurt your family, let your friends down, took advantage of a guy on a deserted island and were willing to let people die here so you could escape on your own.

You deserve this and much more. You start to laugh bitterly. How ridiculous.

You close your eyes and you can almost hear Taeyong now, as he tells you to move the fuck out of here and save your ass. He’d feel so disappointed in you. Maybe he would panic? You’re not quite sure. You decided to part from him to focus on your relationship with a guy who just let you rot in the forest.

Taeyong would find you so damn stupid for being this way.

“Come here.”

It’s like he is talking to you now. Oh well, maybe you’re dead already. It’s good considering you’re not in pain so at least you didn’t suffer.

“Be quiet.”

You blink, eyes fluttering to look around the jungle but it’s dark, like something is covering your eyes.
 You look up and finally, you realize you’re against someone’s chest, crouched behind a thick tree.

You can’t believe it.

Taeyong only sighs when the animal slows his pace to go deeper in the jungle. He looks down at your red eyes and bloody face.

“I’ve got you.”

[veridium]

just stay here tonight

HEY SO, FRIDAY NIGHT CHAPTER FOR FRIDAY NIGHT? WHO’S WITH ME FOR SOME MAGIC? COLLEGE AU UPDATE COMING AT YOU LIVE!

Get your kleenex out just in case...because...I needed mine...

Episode title brought to you by Augustana and one of my favorite songs from them. :)

fic episode masterpost

--

Thursday is forgettable, with the exception of the mildly entertaining but all-out cringe of Cullen’s appearance in the dorms. Friday, on the other hand? Non-stop anguish. Not the Greek tragedy kind, per se, but wondering: wondering if she knows just exactly what the fuck she’s doing, primarily. For too long, Olivia has gotten used to people chasing her down for exactly what they want from her, and what she wants from them, and nothing else. Indulging people rather than engaging has been her modus operandi since she was on the edge of seventeen.

So, understandably, Friday evening in preparation for her gambit is...interesting.

After spending a couple hours getting it all ready, and packing up the teeny trunk of her vehicle, the task at hand becomes getting her own ass together. Something that everyone wants to have a say in, apparently. Or, if you’re Sera, a knock on her door followed by a “knock her dead, Liv, wear the spiked stilettos! They’d make a clean kill!”

Then, there are the texts:

Ellinor: Hey dude, let me know how it goes, okay? I wish you’d tell me what you’re doing.

Ellinor: Okay I know you have your own life but it’s also like ⅓ mine so…

Ellinor: Fuck I think Cullen might be one of those people who unironically likes raisinettes…

Ellinor: oh my god I’m sorry this is about you but I’m nervous so I keep blabbering WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE DOING SO I DON’T HAVE TO PULL APART THESE RED VINES LIKE A MASOCHIST??

Theia: It doesn’t matter what happens I’m still killing her ok. The bitch has it coming.

Theia: [ CHICAGO . GIF]

Josie: NO YOU ARE NOT. WE HAVE DISCUSSED THIS.

Theia: That...was not meant for group chat. Yikes, sorry babe.

Josie: Right.

Lace: Lol another one for the fuck-up screenshots

Lace: Good gay mojo your way, Liv.

The sentiments are all appreciated, but they don’t really hit home. All alone in her room, putting on makeup and feeling like Mulan in the montage before she rides off to the army, it’s all a wonder as to why Cassandra agreed to go on this escapade. It’s as if she’s been fooled into thinking Olivia has a clue. Or, maybe she’s riding along to witness the impending crash-and-burn. A final act of karmic vindication, perhaps.

She picks out a black tank bodysuit and high-waisted, blue skinny jeans. Besides, where they are going isn’t exactly ‘fine goth attire required.’ However, the one staple that will not be left behind is her black leather jacket. Lacing up her converse and slapping on some gloss, and a hair tie on her wrist, and she’s ready to go.

The walk to their suite is an unfamiliar one, but one Ellinor did enough to be able to tell her off memory where to go. Right down to the number on their door. She should ask Ellinor to make a map, just in case, for teasing purposes -- but she looked too busy on cloud 9 earlier that day thinking about her own plans with Rutherphallus. One day, maybe, she’ll stop calling him by demeaning euphemisms. One day. But that day is not today.

Olivia paces in a weird circle a couple of times just outside the suite, hands on her hips as she does her best to remember she has lungs to breathe with. The actual door, the nice door, the one that looks like it works well and is nicely painted. Dorm room doors aren’t this nice. Crap. She’s quietly holding off an implosion. What if she says no after all this? What if she doesn’t like her outfit? What if she’s mean again? God, she can be mean. But then, she stops. Remembers when Cassandra was cornered in the library, and said with such earnest relief in her face that she felt like she could be herself around her. That Liv didn’t make a big deal of things. Psh, well, that was a misinformed belief. Misinformed but...kind.

Taking one last deep breath, she wipes her palms against her denim and knocks on the door. Within ten seconds, it opens. No monsters or ghosts or natural disasters -- no, it’s her, just her, on her other side. Cassandra, in black jeans and a grey v-neck sweater, and all-black tennis shoes like the ones Olivia would wear in high school, except nicer.

Her heart jumps into her throat as Cassandra grins and steps back. “Hey,” she says, all calm and collected and...and...just...fine.

“Hey,” Olivia gets out, her brows lifted along with her pulse rate. “You...you are awake still!”

“Yeah...you said 11.”

“I did. I did say...11. 11 in the evening. PM. Night...time…” she shakes her head and cuts herself off before she sounds too ridiculous. Maybe it’s too late, though. “Um, yeah. You...ready to head out?”

Cassandra, who’s been watching her feud with herself, only smiles and breaks away from the door. Bless her. “Yeah, I’m good, I just need to grab my coat.’

“Right! Yeah, good idea. Night is cold, and...yep, good call. Smart--”

“Liv.”

She blinks, and realizes she’s been looking off into space while talking. Dammit. “Yeah?”

“You’re not very good this, are you?”

“This...this what?”

Cassandra chuckles, and turns back toward the inside of the suite. “I’ll be right back. Try not to scare the neighbors.” She is back quickly, sliding a dark purple duffle jacket on, keys dangling in her hand as she pulls the door shut behind her and locks it. Olivia rocks on her heels in the meantime, looking down either end of the hall -- not a soul to be seen, for a Friday night -- before Cassandra faces her again.

“Alright, where to?”

“Oh, yeah, my car. It’s...gonna be a little bit of a walk to the parking lot, but, you know the parking pass prices are just...bullshit.”

“Yeah.”

They stand there for another awkward few seconds before Olivia once again has it dawn on her she has to lead the way. Fuck. She kicks herself into gear, and Cassandra follows, staring at her like she’s an animal planet show host taking notes on a creature’s behavior. Or, maybe she’s just...fine...and Olivia feels that. Whatever, same difference, right?

The walk happens silently, save for a few polite smiles whenever one of them opens a door for the other. Oh, and Olivia patting her back pocket to make sure she brought her keys. When they get to the lot, and she sees her valiant steed parked, she feels more at home.

“So, ever ride in a mini with muscle?”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra glances at her as they step onto the asphalt.

Olivia giggles under her breath. “A mini with muscle. You know, one with some….like, ‘oomph’ under the hood?”

“I would not know what ‘oomph’ means, but in your hands, I have my concerns.”

“Hah! Funny, very funny.” They diverge from one another, Cassandra going to the passenger door while Olivia goes around the back. She pulls out her keys and unlocks, sliding in nice and smooth. Cassandra is more polite and careful, but she settles in next to her. She probably doesn't spend much time in small cars. Olivia gets more giddy with anticipation, putting up her hair into a simple ponytail.

“...many concerns,” Cassandra reiterates.

“Psh, what?” Olivia scrunches her nose, her hands falling into her lap. “You think I don’t walk what I talk?”

“No, in fact I’m wondering quite the opposite.”

“Why be afraid of a woman who knows how to handle a good car? I wasn’t afraid of you when we rode on your bike.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes, grabbing for the seat belt. “I am going to go ahead and prepare myself the way I should, since I have a feeling as to how this is going to go should I tease you further. Or if I dare ask where it is you’re taking me at this hour.”

Olivia watches her, and she can’t help but smile. She leans forward with one arm on the wheel, and she sticks the key into the ignition. Turning the car on, she can’t help but love the way the engine purrs.

“Don’t worry, Cass. If I did want to murder you, I’d think of something far more theatrical. Public, with live music and dancing, or something.” she sits back, pulling her own seat-belt on. After that, her hand goes to the stick and her foot to the pedal. In response, Cassandra rests the side of her thigh against her door and plants an elbow on it. She looks unconvinced, or intrigued by something.

“What?”

Cassandra raises a brow. “That is the first time you’ve ever called me Cass. Not Cassandra. Or Pentaghast, for that matter.”

Olivia scoffs, and checks her mirror real quick. “No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“...Uh, okay, so what? I mean, you want me not to?” she looks over, brow cocked.

Cassandra shrugs and settles in. It’s impossible to know whether she is pleased or displeased by it. Ellinor’s called her Cass, so has Cullen. But it’s a mystery as to whether either of them ever asked about it. But, to her credit, Cassandra looks ahead.

“Do your worst, Olivia.”

Her tongue presses against her smiling teeth, and Olivia feels the engine warm up at last. “With pleasure.”

--

They drive through town, get on the freeway and past a few exits until Olivia finds the one she’s after. The whole time she is either on par with the speed limits or past them, but once she gets to the outskirts of the county, the traffic goes scarce. Even for a Friday night. A few turns and twists, and she’s on a highway winding incline, up one of the few canyon peaks in the nearby area of rolling hills and flat valleys.

She knows she’s getting close when mostly barren trees start to heavily line the two-lane path, and her mini as always runs like a dream. She has her spotify playing low on the radio, something with a heavy guitar but she can’t quite make out the vocals.

“Well, what do you think?” she asks, as she pulls and hugs tight another sharp turn in the road, engine growling as she accelerates out of it.

Cassandra as far as she has seen, keeps her gaze out the window or on her. Sitting still, but not on edge. “You are asking me for my opinion on your driving?”

Olivia smirks. “I was thinking more about the car, but, I had prepared myself emotionally for your scathing review.” Another turn, this time to the left, and she handles it beautifully. These roads are like the back of her hand, a sight she’s known at all hours and all seasons. Headlights are all she needs.

Cassandra bends her knees a bit more. “I think…” she pauses, while Olivia pulls into what appears to be a destination. Or, rather, a parking lot. “You broke at least three laws in the process, but, I can’t say you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Agh! Bullshit,” Olivia challenges, a subtle laugh in her tone, “I only broke one. Near the turnpike, that’s it.”

“No, you broke three, the second was speeding, and the third was speeding and--”

“Ohoho,” her laugh continues to bubble as she pulls into a parking spot, the only car in the lot by the looks of it, “I sped? No fucking way!” she gasps, pretending to be astonished.

She pushes the stick into place and yanks up the parking brake. They look at each other, now stopped and still, the car lulling. Cassandra doesn’t look flushed or nervous like other people she’s taken along for rides. Maybe she’s been well-conditioned by everything else; too well-conditioned, to be frightened of a fast car and even faster driver. Olivia can only turn the key back and turn off the car; the headlights go out, and the one above their heads comes on.

“Well,” she exhales, adrenaline still surging in her veins, “we’re here.”

“And where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“A park.”

“A...park?” she looks around, through the windows. Not much to see, though.

“Heh,” Olivia unbuckles herself, “come on, you’ll see what I mean. But I have stuff in the trunk for us.”

“Does it happen to be a shovel and body bag? Or even better, a driver’s ed manual?”

Olivia groans and shoves her door open. “No, I’m afraid those are both in my Barbie pink jeep at home. Resting on the squeaky horn rather comfortably like you are on my last nerve.” She gets out, and Cassandra does too, and for a moment they look at each other over the car roof.

Cassandra unzips her jacket but keeps it on. “Fair enough,” she concedes, and they shut their doors. Venturing into the back trunk, Olivia pulls up the door and finds what she left in there: a basket, with its contents covered by a draped, folded heavy blanket. A two-hand job, but not too bad. She picks it up and manages to pull the door back down, all the while Cassandra stands back somewhat looking like a woman of action left without a an action to commit.

“You need help?”

“No, no,” Olivia teases, hitting the button on her car alarm. The lights flicker and she turns to face her. “I am a capable person, capable of many things besides blatant crime. You just need to trust me.”

“You don’t know what you ask,” Cassandra counters, hands going into her jacket pockets, “but fine, I go where you go.”

“Yes,” Olivia closes in on her, until she’s about a foot away, “and tonight, I go there, over that small bridge and up the trail. Come on!”

More walking, and more silence. It’s weird, just a tad, to be acting so congenial after so much heartache. But on the other hand, it’s something she’s craved the whole time: for them to be as they were, as they could have been, had not her pride or her defenses squandered her good graces. The more time they spend not arguing, or ditching each other, the more Olivia dares to hope it can all be redeemed. As they walk on the dirt and wood chip path with only so much as one iPhone flashlight for a little less than a ¼ mile, she appreciates all Cassandra did to open up to her: all the plans, all the exposure. Because the closer they get to where she wants them to end up, the more nerve-wracking it all becomes. Maybe that’s what’s been making Cassandra chuckle and eye her all evening: she’s watching Liv get a taste of her own medicine.

At last, they come to the top of a hillside, where the view is clear over the city below. The spot is all grass and trail, and what looks to be an old rusty playground at the base of it. No lamp posts, no bike racks, no sidewalk. It’s a bit creepy, if you’re a normal person with the usual and healthy fear of coyotes and forest cryptics. But if you’re Olivia Sinclair, it’s anything but.

“Ah, perfect!” She sighs when they come to a stop. “We can stick it here.”

Cassandra looks around, vigilant. “Are you...sure?”

“Yes, sure as any mediocre man.” She sets down the basket on the ground and picks up the blanket. “Don’t worry, I did bring a source of light for you, a mere mortal.”

“Pfft,” Cassandra comes closer, and takes the opposite pair of edges on the blanket so as to help her spread it out. “What, is this where you tell me you’re a vampire? Make me say it while you breathe down my back?”

“Well, shit, now that the rest of the evening’s plans has lost its mystery…”

“Ugh! Do not even!”

Olivia laughs, and with the blanket all out she gets to work with the array of items she’s brought. Four small mason jars with with small white candles in them that she plants on each blanket corner. She gets out a lighter and goes to work on all of them, Cassandra still standing by, loyal but suspicious, as if one could be both at the same time.

“You brought candles?”

Olivia finishes the last one, setting it back down. “Yeah, I need hot wax. You know, for summoning Satan.”

“Olivia!” Cassandra huffs, before stepping onto the woolen fabric and taking a seat. “You’re lucky I’m not one of my peers from my Bible Study. They would start spraying their travel-sized holy water all over you.”

Olivia laughs again, and pulls out some more items from the basket behind her, before she, too, sits down. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Old habits.”

“Summoning Satan?”

“Nah, teasing you.”

First, Cassandra gives a side-eye, but when Olivia meets her gaze with a warm smile and an offer of peanut M&M’s she softens. She takes the box from her and opens it. “You brought sustenance for our off-grid affair.”

“Yes, I did. Admittedly, it is mostly stuff I was going to bring with me to the movies with Ellinor tonight. I’m a candy smuggler.”

Cassandra smirks. “You had plans tonight with Ellinor?”

“Yeah, she wanted to go see Star Tr--Wars! Dammit, I always get those confused,” she admonishes herself while getting into her own package of sour patch kids. “Anyways, she’s gone with Cullen, so I doubt there’s love lost.”

“I’m sure he’s loving every minute. He’s a huge fan,” Cassandra knocks the first few pieces back. She looks beautiful, with the way her face and neck are illuminated sparsely by firelight. It’s mesmerizing, especially when her eyes light up in their subtle glow. “You broke plans just to...to bring me here?”

Olivia pulls her knees up against her chest. She’s sitting close enough to talk low, hushed and sweet, but far enough for deniability as to her desires. She sucks on a sour piece of candy and looks out at the landscape. “This place is important to me. I go whenever I need to clear my head. Mostly at night, since I go on drives. Ellinor’s been here, and so has Theia. But I don’t bring anyone else here. Not...well, not until tonight, I suppose.”

Cassandra sets down her box, still chewing. “Theia. Is she your friend, the one you were with at the gala?”

“Yes,” she smiles, reaching and taking her hair out of its ponytail. “We’ve been thick as thieves for years.”

“So,” Cassandra chuckles to herself, “that explains it.”

Oh? Olivia looks at her, eyes narrowed unevenly with confused intrigue. “What?” She looks on as Cassandra squirms a bit, in her own kind of way: shoulders tensing, but her expression otherwise hard to read. Her palms clasping together in her criss-crossed lap.

“She looked like she wanted to fight me. That, and...ugh, I shouldn’t say it. It’s ridiculous of me.”

Olivia shrugged. “Cassandra, if anything is welcome around me, it’s being ridiculous. You should know better than anyone at this point.”

She grins crookedly. Reluctance, coming from someone who has the premium on being mature and logical. “I...I noticed how comfortable you were with her. When you came down the stairs, with your arm in hers. I had no idea who she was but I...I got jealous.”

Olivia sucked on her teeth, holding back the urge to laugh from the ludicrous nature of it all, and instead reached for a few more sour patch kids. Fucking hell, Theia was right. Theia and her weird, weird hunches about social cues. God dammit, she would never hear the end of it if she told her that it worked.

“I’m sorry that happened. It was...I don’t know, the whole night was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have gone, but, my Mom makes demands of me that are few but huge. I wasn’t lying when I said my family keeps me on a weird leash, it’s...it’s a long story.”

“No, I get it. Mine does too. No need to apologize,” Cassandra shakes her head, watching as Olivia eats some more. “It was just me being unreasonable. I am guilty of that. It’s sort of my thing.”

“I wouldn’t say…” Olivia scrunches her nose, and swallows her bite. “Well, okay.” She turns herself to face her, crossing her legs like Cassandra has, only a bit tighter. “So, like, first impression of you, alright? On the soccer field, when you and Cullen came up to ask about the Strokes concert. You were intense, and you didn’t waste any time on extra words or...you know, laughing. But you weren’t someone I’d picture when it comes to the word ‘unreasonable.’ Not even when I got to know you. Intense...focused...serious, but not unreasonable.”

Cassandra leans back on her hands, her legs stretching out with one crossing over the other. More relaxed. “Would it be a deal-breaker if I were unreasonable?”

Olivia tucks some hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to be one of yours. I wouldn’t think it’d be very fair of me to--”

“Oh, so you think you’re the unreasonable one?”

Olivia blinks, and looks towards the woods ahead of her. “I...uh, well…”

“No, no, Ms. Sinclair. You know your words. Make your case.” She’s smiling softly, in that cocky, half-arrogant sort of way. The way that makes you want to believe every word and every thought she’s thinking before she ever says it.

“Um.” Olivia rubs the back of her neck while her mind does its best to put together a coherent response. Not the easiest thing to be done. “I hate to say it, but...I don’t think it’d be nearly as effective as the case you made.”

At that, Cassandra frowns, and peers down at her lap. “Olivia, I was upset, and--”

“No, the thing is,” she takes a half-breath, “you said it yourself you don’t mistake your words. You were right. I like control...but it’s because I like detachment. I want people to like me but I don’t want to risk them letting me down. Oh, and if we need any other filler information, I’m also the Queen of Death in your local Poli Sci class. I mean, if that’s not unreasonable, then…”

Her mind trails off, getting lost in the insecurities she’s named. Once and for all, they’re no longer elephants in the room -- at least for her. In a bizarre way, here, in the middle of a blanket with only four candle jars to light up her world...her world with her...it felt the safest she had been to be herself outside of her close friendships. Far away from anything and everything that’d make her want to shut herself up. In spite of the solace, it’s also sad, and her gaze wanders down as she fiddles with blanket fabric between her fingers. There’s crickets chirping behind her, but not much else to distract.

“You know, Olivia, the soccer field was not the first time we ever came into contact.”

She looks up a bit. That can’t be right; she had never uttered a word to Cassandra before that day. Sure, she existed, and she had seen her around as another person in the crowd, maybe. But never dialogue, and certainly never introductions.

“What?”

Cassandra smiles, and leans up more. “Poli Sci 234. Social movements.”

“But...but you weren’t in that class. I don’t remember you at all--”’

“It was taught by a Professor I had my first year I grew to like a lot. I wanted to take 234, but it wouldn’t fit. I still stopped in once or twice, sat in the back of the class. I still remember...hah,” she bites back a laugh, “you were wearing this big, black bow in your hair, around your ponytail. I didn’t really know what to make of you. This guy was going on and on about his half-soaked opinions, and everyone in the class was checking out. But then you raised your hand and shut him down so mercilessly it was...like…” Cassandra’s chest heaved again with another amazed laugh. “I thought you were going to make him cry.”

Olivia listens, a bit lost at first, but the memory is too stark for her to forget. Oh, she remembers that man. That horrible, libertarian-sympathizing asshole who thought his voice was that of Jesus himself. She gasps her own laugh of disbelief.

“Payten Thompson. Ugh!” she sounds off in disgust. “We...shit! We were discussing the Gay Rights Movement. I remember. He thinks he knows everything there is to know because he’s gay and on the GSA cabinet, but he can’t name the Black trans woman who threw the first shot glass at Stonewall? Fucking bogus.” She rolls her eyes, already starting to see red just recalling the moment she looked across the desks and classmates at him and obliterated his pacifist, respectability-politic drenched opinions.

Cassandra nods. “Yes. It was...so unexpected. At least I thought so. I went to the Professor’s office after that class to visit and he brought you up. Said you were quiet, but when you had something to say, you didn’t hold back. I assumed our paths would cross in classes eventually, so I didn’t really follow up after. Then months passed, and I started seeing this girl hanging out with her friend on the grass by the field. One with a black bow in her hair.”

That bow was a good look. A very good look. Shit luck she lost it at a party and hadn’t been able to find one to replace it. It was pique aesthetic. Well, that wasn’t the point of this discussion.

Olivia finds herself blushing, and she tries to escape it by watching the city lights. “I...didn’t see you in that class. That’s so funny.”

“I’m not really someone who captures people’s attention. Not like you. But my point is, you’re not the only one who likes distance and control.”

“Yeah,” she replies, dismissive of herself, “what a valuable talent I have, getting attention. I should put it on my CV.”

Out of nowhere, or at least to Olivia, Cassandra sits up and places her fingers along the far side of Olivia’s face. With unexpected care and touch she guides Olivia’s gaze back to her. With shocked obedience she follows along, lips parting and eyes rounding.

Cassandra looks determined, assured of herself. Confident, but compassionate.

“Liv, if it’s one thing that doesn’t look good on you, and one thing only, it is being apologetic of what makes you so amazing.”

Her non-stop blush goes into sudden-fever mode. Thank goodness for the dull lighting. Olivia inhales, but is at a loss for words. Well, until she isn’t: the moment Cassandra tries to withdraw her hand.

“No,” she lets escape, voice cracked. She takes hold of it, and holds it to her lap.

Cassandra’s eyes widen but she goes along. “Liv, are you...what are--”

“Cassandra, I…” oh, crap, she’s done so little thinking about this whole night. For someone who says they love control and indifference, she’s throwing it all to the wind. “Look, can I...can I just be honest about something? About...about tonight?”

Cassandra tilts her head. “What, did you actually not forget the shovel?”

“Ugh, no! It’s...it’s not anything like that. I mean it, I’m…”

“What is it then?” 

Well, fuck. Here...goes nothing. She takes a deep breath, something she’s been doing frequently tonight, and closes her eyes for the beginning. The jumping off point. “I don’t want to be happy if it’s without you. I don’t want to be angry if it’s not with you. You...you drive me crazy, and confuse me, but...but you also make me laugh, and you eat the peanut M&M’s I hate but buy anyway because I think maybe this time around I’ll like them, but I never do so I try to pawn them off on Ellinor, and that’s insane of me, but...but you...you make the insane things I do make sense for some reason. I brought you here because I wanted...to say...I wanted to ask you…”

“Ask me...what?”

She re-opens her eyes, and they are starting to sting from the build-up of emotion. The walls are crumbling away into dust and sand, and all she has is one Hail Mary to throw before it’s all botched for good. This would be her only chance, her one chance -- there could be no more believing it could happen some other day, or in some other universe. She was done with the denial. Surrounded by cheap candles and sugar-salt on her tongue, she was going for broke.

“If...if I could...have another shot.”

Cassandra has the best poker face in the world. It’s a good listening face, though. For every second she doesn’t react, Olivia feels herself sinking a foot deeper into the ground. Asking for something she in no way deserves after all the nonsense. But she’s sick of not trying. Which is why, when Cassandra grins to one side, and tucks a leg underneath the other so as to lean further into her, it’s the closest she’ll ever come to believing in a higher power probably in her entire life.

There has to be a rejection on the wings. All the hints, all the signs that Cassandra didn’t want her anymore. Past-tense was past-tense, right? Well, not exactly.

As Cassandra’s eyes half-close, and she leans in slowly with her lips reaching towards hers, it all feels like some bittersweet recreation of a memory. The couch, in the office, when everything went wrong. Butterflies run amok in her, and she freezes. Now Olivia knows how she might have felt. How could she have had the guts to say no to this?

She just has that much integrity.

But she’s not going anywhere this time. This time, she leans in the rest of the remaining couple inches, and they kiss. They kiss. And it’s cautious, like all innocent first kisses are: far and away more docile than what Olivia’s typically gone for. There’s no clamoring, no rigor. Although, in their place is respect and relief. She’ll happily take that exchange as she closes her eyes and submits, not wanting for anything. Her hands go to either side of Cassandra’s face, sliding them against her skin until the ends of her fingers are in her hair. Her short, soft hair. So soft. Their kiss grows, but is steady in its shyness.

Then, she pulls back ever-so-slightly, and her eyes slit open.

“Um, hey...so, this is...awkward, but, I actually...I got somewhere to be…” she whispers, softly grimacing. What better way to cap off a raw moment of vulnerability than a cringey joke?

Cassandra raises a brow, and her hand slides around to the back of Olivia’s neck. “I was right, you aren’t very good at this.” Her lips graze against Olivia’s. “But fine, I dare you to leave.”

Olivia blushes some more, and arches her back against her. “No, I think I’d rather try my luck at tasting the M&M’s again…” she smiles fiendishly, and her eyes flash into Cassandra’s, before she returns her lips to hers. The way Cassandra feels, the way she kisses her, the way her hand feels sliding down her collarbone and onto her shoulder…the warmth of her breath raising, and their rhythm with each other starting to find its way...

She yearns for nothing and nowhere else.