#this is like when it took me about three years to understand twitch

[ex-furry]

i've always seen zac oyama on my dash but i really hadn't Actually thought abt him in so long and i'm realizing that it's just bc i didn't understand what dropout was

[pulisicsgirl]

i feared the worst - mason mount

summary: when Mason is injured on the pitch using a match, it leaves Y/N shaken and in need of a bit of comfort

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings/tags: descriptions of an injury, mentions of blood, physio!reader, secret relationship, hurt/comfort, the reader winds up crying bc when am I not having her cry fr, Mase is ultra soft and gentle in this one

A/N: surprise fic!!!! I’ve had this one half written for several weeks now, and I actually started it long before Mason got had his head injury 😓 so I’m only writing fics about Mason being happy and well and falling in love with me from here on out haha But please know that this is not based on his actual head injury, so many of the details are very different. But on a real note, thank you all for being so patient with me while I struggle to get fics out. This year has been a bit rough on the writing side, but please know that I’m endlessly thankful for each and every one of you 🤍

The moment Mason’s head collided with the other player’s knee, you swear you felt your heart stop dead in your chest.

It had been a rough game thus far, 65 minutes having passed without a goal on either side of the pitch, though there had been numerous chances for both teams. As the end of the game drew nearer, the intensity mounted, higher and higher. You had been watching nervously from the physio bench, biting your fingers nervously— with the way these boys were playing, it was only a matter of time before something really ugly happened.

And no sooner had you finished the thought before you watched as Mason was pushed off-balance as he and two of his opponents went for a ball in the air. One player knocked him from behind, sending Mason falling forward straight into the upswinging knee of the opponent in from of him.

It was like the entire world faded away, a gasp falling over the crowd before the screaming and whistling coming from the stands suddenly became silent in your ears. Your entire body went cold as you watched Mason’s body land roughly on the grass, laying on his side with his back turned to you as he went still.

You were on your feet in an instant, ready to run to his side when your manager, James, took hold of your elbow, standing at your side. A reminder of the guidelines of your job— you couldn’t be on the pitch until the referee waved for you to do so.

Those moments were some of the longest you had ever experienced, watching as the ref continued observing the play, his back turned to Mason’s slumped form as a couple United players ran to kneel at his side. Somehow, he had missed the collision— though you weren’t sure how as it had been anything but subtle.

Thankfully the opponent, realizing the severity of the knock against Mason, kicked the ball out of bounds and waved the ref toward the spot where two or three players huddled around him.

You could feel yourself bouncing on your toes, waiting for the signal, your fingers twitching in anticipation. James squeezed your elbow in silent understanding of your impatience.

Your heart was in your throat, and you could hear it beating in your ears. It nearly felt like slow-motion as the ref blew his whistle, turning to the sideline to wave you onto the field.

In an instant your feet were moving, carrying you across the pitch and you made it to Mason’s side first, James following a few seconds later. The boys that surrounded him took a few steps back to allow you space to work as you dropped the duffel bag by Mason’s head. Only Rasmus remained on the ground next to you, holding onto Mason’s leg as a show of support without crowding you too much. You placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder, gently encouraging him to roll onto his back.

The first sight of bright red blood on his skin had your stomach sinking to the floor.

Laying on his back, Mason drew his hand away from his face, his eyes widening slightly when he spotted the blood on his fingers. You whispered a soft “you’re okay, don’t worry,” to him as you grabbed a packet of gauze from your bag, placing it over the site of the bleed.

The gears in your head began spinning almost immediately, giving Mason’s entire body a look over. His head seemed to be the only site of injury, thankfully, and you begin assessing him for any sign of a concussion. You wiped at his forehead to get a better look—it was a relatively small cut, not too deep at all. But it was a heavy bleeder because of where it was located, making it look much worse than it truly was. The realization caused you to blow out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You cleaned him up as best you could while still out on the pitch, trying to silently reassure Mason as best you could. You could see the slight panic in his eyes, but your heart clenched in your chest as you watched that panic settle slightly when he curled a fist around the fabric of your jacket, grounding himself.

Before too long, James was helping you sit Mason upright, wrapping a bandage around Mason’s head—just enough to hold it in place while you helped him off the field, since he would have to be subbed off.

“How’re you feeling Mase? You alright?” James asked over the roar of the crowd, checking in with him.

“I feel about like I’ve just taken a knee to the face,” Mason replied, blowing out a breath as he laughed. James laughed with him, and you felt a slight wave of relief wash over you at the fact that Mason was already joking, back to his normal self.

Helping him slowly to his feet, you draped his arms over your and James’ shoulders as the two of you helped him walk slowly off the pitch. Your heart swelled with pride as the stadium applauded him, and you knew the gesture meant a great deal to Mason as you led him down the tunnel back into the locker rooms.

“I can take care of him back here, if you want to head back out with the rest of the team,” you told James once the two of you had gotten Mason settled on one of the beds in the physio room.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled at him, collecting Mason’s file from the cabinet along with the supplies you’d need to bandage him up. “With the way they’re playing out there, they’ll need you again in no time.”

James laughed, nodding in agreement. “You’re probably right,” he chuckled, dropping a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Really glad you’re alright, mate. That looked like a really nasty hit you took.”

Mason thanked James, bidding him goodbye as you turned to the cabinets to gather supplies— gauze, tape, bandages, some solution to clean the rest of his face, a bowl of warm water.

Without a word, you turned back to Mason, laying your supplies out on the small tray you had to the side of his bed. Mason watched in silence as you opened the packaging of the various things you had collected and put on a fresh pair of gloves.

There was an odd tension in the air as you sat down on the stool next to his bed and unwrapped the bandage around his head. Mason had never seen you look so serious in all the time he had known you, and it left an uneasy feeling settling in his tummy that he didn’t like. He watched your face as you removed the last of the wrapping from his head, but your eyes never drifted to his, nothing but that solemn and stern expression written on your features.

Using a bit of gauze, you were able to clean Mason’s forehead and get a better idea of what you were working with in terms of his injury. The cut was much smaller than you had originally anticipated and you determined it wasn’t severe enough to warrant stitches— something you were incredibly thankful for because you weren’t sure you’d be able to get your shaking hands to settle long enough to place the sutures.

With the bleeding under control, you were able to quickly clean the area and simply place a few bandage strips over the area to keep the edges together.

With the injury tended to, you were able to move on to cleaning the rest of his face. Using a few cloths dipped in the warm water to clean his eyebrow and cheek, where some of the blood had run down to.

The two of you still hadn’t spoken a word when you finally moved on to clean the last of the blood off Mason’s hand, wiping over his palm and in between his fingers.

It was like as soon as you had taken care of his injury, something in you had flipped—gone was the stoic professional who had a laser-focus on Mason’s injury, and it felt like the adrenaline had worn off all at once.

Heat rushed into your face and tears welled in your eyes as the sudden realization hit you that this could’ve been so much worse.

You tried to keep your head bowed low, unwilling to let Mason see all of the emotions welling up inside you. You tried your best to take slow breaths through your nose, but you could feel your lower lip wobbling despite your best efforts to keep the tears at bay.

Mason noticed the shift in your demeanor almost immediately.

You must have been wiping the same spot on the back of his hand for a full minute now, afraid that if you stopped, you’d have to look up at him— have to face the fact that Mason’s injury had shaken you the way it had.

“Y/N?” he whispered ever so softly, but you kept your head down and wouldn’t look him in the eye, even as he tried to dip his head to look at you.

“Look at me, angel.”

Still no response.

Mason brought his free hand to your chin, tilting your head up with a finger so you were forced to look at him. The first glimpse of your misty eyes sent a sharp pang through his heart.

“Love, I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

The gentle compassionate tone he was using broke the floodgates, and a sharp sob fell from your lips, your hand clamping over your mouth instantly to try to silence it.

Mason pulled you up from your stool and into his side as your emotions got the better of you, your quiet cries muffled as your face was tucked into his neck. He leaned his cheek against the top of your head, mumbling quiet statements of reassurance as he smoothed his palm up and down your back while his other arm held your waist firmly.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled quietly. “You’re the one who got injured, you shouldn’t have to be comforting me.”

Mason failed to stifle the laugh that bubbled up in his throat at your statement. “Don’t apologize,” he squeezed you a bit closer to him, feeling your breathing begin to steady once he’d had you in his arms for a few moments. “I’ve got you, love. It’s okay.”

Your cheeks were red and splotchy when you pulled back, wiping gently under your eyes to avoid making them more puffy than they already were as you breathed another short, “I’m sorry.”

Mason just smiled at you reassuringly, knowing he wasn’t going to get you to stop apologizing for your emotions any time soon.

Your eyes finally settled on his face, and Mason watched fresh tears spring to your eyes as you reached up to run thumb across his forehead, brushing the skin just under the cut.

“I was so scared, Mase. I saw all the blood and I didn’t kno-“

Mason shushed you gently, worried you’d bring yourself to tears again. “I know, angel. But I’m okay,” he gave you another smile, and the gentleness in your eyes put you at ease. “And I have the best physio ever to look after me, so I know I’ll recover just fine.” He cupped your face with his hand, running a thumb across your jaw and across your lower lip, tugging on it just slightly as he watched the blush rush into your cheeks at his statement of praise.

“Don’t worry on my account, okay?” he spoke, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Please,” he added.

As you nodded, Mason could tell you still weren’t fully convinced, but he knew it would take time for you to really settle after the way his injury had shaken you.

Mason leaned forward, daring to steal a kiss— something the two of you didn’t do often at work since your relationship was still largely a secret, aside from one or two of your closest friends. His lips were soft and so, so gentle as they moved against your own, and the gesture did wonders to settle your racing mind.

When he pulled away, your eyes were still closed and you couldn’t help but chase his movements, causing Mason to chuckle, indulging you in one more gentle kiss.

It would never cease to amaze you, the way that Mason could settle your mind with such a small action.

“I love you,” you breathed— it was something the two of you had only dared to say recently, but each day you were more and more sure of it.

Mason brushed his nose against yours, his mind reeling with the though that he got to call you his own— get to have these simple, quiet moments with you.

“I love you too,” his heart soared at the proximity to you. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Before long, the two of you parted, knowing that the game that continued to play out in the stadium would soon be over and fearing that someone might walk in on your intimate moment, crushing any efforts to keep your relationship hidden going forward.

Mason could tell that there was a much lighter air to you now, as you turned to his file on the table next to you and began filling out the proper documentation, noting the extent of the injury and all of the checks you had done to make sure he hadn’t picked up a concussion on top of the cut on his head. You wrote in his file with one hand, keeping the pinky of the other looped in his, still needing that bit of touch to ground you and reassure you that he was okay.

Mason knew you’d be a mother hen for the next several days, insisting on taking care of him in every way you could- but Mason couldn’t say he minded the idea of it. If he played his cards right, he thought he might even be able to convince you that he needed be looked after throughout the late hours of tonight and get you to stay at his—not because he was actually worried about the injury, but because he thought there was no better feeling than falling asleep with you in his arms and waking up with you lying next to him.

As you wrote out your notes, you could practically see the gears turning in Mason’s mind, and you had a sneaking suspicion that he was already coming up with ways to keep you around as long as possible after he went home. But you knew you would let him—would play right into his antics that you both knew were overdramatic because you truly loved getting to take care of him.

Upon hearing the chatter of the boys coming down the hallway, the match seemingly having ended, Mason brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles before releasing your hand from his so that no one would see it. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as the small act of affection, and you fought to be as inconspicuous as possible as you heard a few boys entering the room.

A couple players moved to work with other physios, stretching out their muscles after the long match or tending to lingering injuries from weeks past. But Marcus, Rasmus, and Luke walked through the door and made a beeline for Mason to check on him after the nasty collision.

A feeling of warmth spread across your chest as the four boys talked next to you while you continued filling out Mason’s file. It was hard to describe the joy that you felt at how well Mason had settled into life in Manchester since his move, and the relief that you felt in knowing that he had good friends and teammates that he could rely on.

You couldn’t stifle the giggle that fell from your lips as they started recounting the collision in absurd detail, the way little boys would recount the way that they tumbled and fell while playing in the yard.

Glancing up for a brief moment, you caught Mason’s eye, and the way they shone told you he might be thinking the same things you were—that after all, though his move to Manchester had been difficult in many ways, it had brought him to a few of his now closest friends.

And after all, it had brought him to you— something neither of you had ever anticipated. But you wouldn’t have changed anything for the world

As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!

tag list: @hischierswhore @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol7 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellsancho @sid-vii @captainpulisic

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

[talesfromawannabewriter]

Separation Trial

@beef-brisket @things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam tapped his fingers against the table in a distracted manner. He had been there at the restaurant for a while now. Waiting for his...waiting for Lucifer. He needed to talk with Lucifer, he wanted to talk to him at home about it, in private. However, when he asked about meeting him, Lucifer simply nodded his head and said they could meet at this restaurant.

He didn't even take Adam’s idea at eating at home into consideration. Although the place Adam sat currently was upscale and nice it wasn’t what he wanted to do. This wasn’t where he wanted to have…the conversation. He sighed to himself as he saw Lucifer approach. He barely even said hello before Lucifer kissed him on the cheek before seating himself.

Lucifer: Hello my dearest, what’s going on? Why’d you want to talk at a restaurant? You know we could have talked over the phone. You made it sound so urgent.

Adam took a moment to keep his anger in check. Once again Lucifer wasn’t listening.

Adam: What I wanted to talk to you about couldn’t be said over the phone. It had to be in person. Lucifer we have been married for three whole years now.

Lucifer: Yeah I know, last week was our anniversary. Don’t you remember Addie?

Adam felt his breath hitch and he struggled to not cry then and there. Their third anniversary had been a disaster, he didn’t want to go into it. But Adam had would forever hate that day. It was what made him bring this meeting with Lucifer.

Adam: I do remember, and so should you.

Lucifer: But I literally just said that I

Adam: No, I’m talking about what happened that day. Can you please tell me what happened?

Lucifer was nervous at his husband’s harsh tone but answered him.

Lucifer: Well, I do remember that both of us were so busy, I with handling a fortis problem, then Charlie called and she needed some help with the hotel, and I didn’t get back till late at night. Oh and you had that concert of yours, by the way how was it? I don’t think I asked before.

Adam felt his eye twitch.

Adam: It was not JUST a concert Lucifer.

Lucifer: …Did something happen at the concert?

Adam: More like what didn’t happen.

Lucifer: Did no one applaud you? Were they booing you? Honey don’t worry your a great singer, you’ll bounce back.

Adam: No, there were no applause nor cheers. Because my audience wasn’t there.

Lucifer: Oh, Adam I’m so sorry.

Adam: You weren’t there Lucifer.

Lucifer: What?

Adam: You were not at my concert Lucifer, You were supposed to be there. Because you were meant to be my audience. Because that concert was going to be dedicated to you! It was supposed to be my wedding anniversary present to you!

Lucifer: But, but, but it’s not my fault if you don’t tell me in advance!

Adam: Lucifer I told you weeks prior about it. And you always said that you’d be there. But of course you lied.

Lucifer: I didn’t lie! Shit came up Adam this isn’t my fault. If anything you should have told me before I left that day! On top of that what did you expect me to do? Not do my duty as king. Tell the goetia to handle it themselves!? Say no to my own daughter, your own daughter, I shouldn’t have helped her at all?! Geez you can be selfish sometimes.

Adam’s eyes widened at that statement. He was shocked to his seat still. Then slowly he nodded his head in understanding. He was an idiot for ever even considering giving Lucifer a second chance. Taking a deep breath, Adam looked directly into Lucifer’s yellow, red eyes and said,

Adam: Lucifer, I want a divorce

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʜᴀꜱ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ. ᴀꜱ ʜᴇʀ 11ᴛʜ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀꜱ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ, ʟᴜᴄᴇʀʏꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀʜᴀᴇɴʀʏᴀ. ᴛʜᴇɴ, ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ-ᴅᴀʏ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴋɪɴɢꜱ ʟᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ.

This story will follow canon events of HOTD and Fire and Blood. However, I am changing some of the years when things took place so I can build my story's plot better.

126 AC

Rhaella peers down at the baby whose big brown eyes captivate her. She decides that Joffery Velaryon is Westeros' cutest baby when he smiles at her.

"Does he cry a lot?" She asks

"Sometimes. Mostly when he is hungry." Rhaenrya says

"Aren't babies always hungry though?" She asks

"I suppose they are..." Rhaenrya replies "I guess that means he cries a lot then."

Rhaella smirks at her cousin's admission. Even if he did cry a lot he was still cute.

"Rhaella what are you doing in here? You rarely visit without Jace and Luke." Rhaenrya asks

"I am hiding from the Septa. She insists that I learn about history with Heleana." Rhaella sighs "If she had half a brain she'd know Maester Edric has taught me it all already."

Rhaenrya lets out a snort of laughter at her half-a-brain comment.

"Our histories are important." She says "I will agree with you though, Septas can be a bore."

"I'd much rather be in the training yard with Jace and Luke." Rhaella admits "I don't understand why I must learn to sew while they get to fight with a sword."

"That is the way of the world," Rhaenrya says

"The way of the world can go fuck its-"

Rhaella stops her speech when her cousin's eyebrows shoot up.

"I mean to say it is idiotic that I cannot train with them."

Soft silence settles as baby Joffery coos in his crib, laughing when Rhaella sticks her tongue out at him.

"Do you truly wish to be outside with them?" Rhaenrya asks

"Of course. I want to be like Visenya in the books that line the shelves in my room." Rhaella says looking up at her cousin, "Since I do not have a dragon I wish to have another way to fight."

Rhaella watches Rhaenrya's face and doesn't miss the way the corner of her mouth twitches into a slight smile.

"Come with me." She says

As if it's magic, a wet nurse is there to watch over Westeros' cutest baby and Rhaella is following Rhaenrya through the maze of halls and stairways that lead the the training yard.

"Ser Harwin!" Rhaenrya calls

They waltz past Ser Criston Cole who is working with Aegon, Aemond, Jace, and Luke. Aemond's eyes widen when he sees her out of the castle and standing in the muddy yard.

A monstrous-looking man answers Rhaenrya's call. His mess of curly dark hair has been tied back neatly and he bows as they approach.

"Princess. My Lady." He greets

"This is Ser Harwin Strong, Rhaella. He is Lord Commander of the City Watch." Rhaenrya says "Lady Rhaella wishes to train, the way the Princes do."

Rhaella isn't entirely sure about this Ser Harwin. She expects him to turn her away, mutter something about her being a girl, and for Rhaenrya to tell her to go back to her sewing.

"I'll teach her." He says

Rhaella nearly falls over at his acceptance.

"You will?" She gasps

"It is a request from Princess Rhaenrya herself. I'd be foolish not to accept." He smiles at Rhaella and then Rhaenrya. "Tomorrow we will begin. I expect you to be dressed in something worthy of a great sword fighter."

Rhaella looks down at the silk dress she had been dressed in just hours ago.

"Of course." She smiles

"For today, I want you to go back to the Septa. Sit and do your lessons and tomorrow you can spend as much time as you want with Ser Harwin." Rhaenrya says

Training is harder than she had expected, and a lot dirtier too. The practice swords are so heavy they make her arms ache. It had been three months since Rhaenrya had introduced them and Rhaella was sure she was disappointing Ser Harwin.

"Straighten your arms, plant your feet. Having a strong stance keeps you from being knocked over." Harwin's voice commands as she swings at a straw-filled man, "Jacaerys, you too. You look like a gust of wind might blow you over."

Ser Harwin was tough, Rhaella could tell that he was an experienced fighter. She wanted to do her best under his tutelage but she found herself failing. Perhaps it was because the sword was too heavy, or maybe she didn't like the feel of mud between her fingers. What she did know though was that the sharp eyes of Criston Cole were not helping things. It felt like he was watching her every step whenever she arrived to train. She swore he was also watching Jace and Luke who often were beside her in training.

"Perhaps they cannot carry your orders out simply because they are too weak, Strong," Cole says

"Ignore them, boys, Rhaella. One day you will all be stronger than him." Harwin says

Every bone in her body was aching by the time she got back to her chamber. After working with the swords Harwin had taught them hand-to-hand combat, something he claimed was just as important as working with a sword. The only plus of today was that she had been able to overpower Jace and land a good hit on his side. He'd probably get her back for that one in a few days.

The sound of her door opening had her groaning. She loved Heleana but she did not wish to talk about bugs at this moment

"Heleana might I bathe and then come to visit you I am dirty from training still." She said not bothering to look at the door from her seat at her desk.

"Not only are you dirty but you smell awful."

"Aemond!" She exclaimed and shot up.

She had found herself becoming a bit more self-conscious around the prince in the past few months. She'd often make sure to her hair til it was perfectly silky or spray a bit of sweet-smelling perfume before going to see him. Maester Edric said it was a part of getting older and becoming a woman. Rhaella believed it was because she didn't want him to make fun of her. How could she become a great warrior if she was made fun of by her closest friend?

"We have not spent much time together recently. I thought you might be upset with me." Aemond said walking over to her.

"I am not upset with you." She affirms "After training I am often too tired to move. Not to mention Heleana and I have been spending time together as well."

"Heleana and her bugs can wait, you were my friend first," Aemond declares, sitting down on the end of the bed.

Rhaella lets out a small laugh of amusement at Aemond's possessive tone.

"Your name day is soon right?" He asks

"In a fortnight. I will be 11." She smiles

"You're getting old." Aemond teases

"You'll have your own name day eventually as well. 10 years is a very serious age." She says, trying to sound like an adult

"You're 10 now and you laughed when Luke drank his water too quickly and water spurted out his nose just a week ago." Aemond reminds

"Anyone would've laughed at that!" She defends

Her eyes widen when she sees how her Uncle Viserys has planned to celebrate her name day.

"I do not think a feast is necessary, Uncle." She said

"Of course it is, it is your first name day with family. Tell me have you ever had a grand celebration for your name day?" He asks

Rhaella's mind combs through the name days she can remember. Most of them were spent with cousin Gerold teaching her to hunt or Edric gifting her new perfumes.

"I have not..." She trails off

"Then a true celebration is in order. I have invited many lords and ladies of the kingdom. Even your cousin Gerold has sent word he will be here." Viserys says

"Are you excited for tonight?" Maester Edric asks

Rhaella catches his gaze through the mirror as a handmaid braids her hair.

"I am nervous. I do not know most of the people who will be at this party." She sighs

"You don't need to worry, they are here for you. You should focus on having a good time, this is your first proper name day celebration." He says, "I wish I would have been able to give you a celebration like this when you were younger."

"I don't. Every name day I have spent with you, Gerold, and the staff of Runestone has been perfect." Rhaella admits

The party is as lavish as Viserys had described. Numerous plates of food are piled high with dishes she couldn't even name. Music played as they ate and Rhaella hoped she wouldn't get anything on her dress.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Viserys asks

"I am, Uncle, thank you." She smiles truthfully

"I used to have feasts like this for Rhaenrya every year on her name day. She asked me to stop after she was married." Viserys reminisced

"I am sure they were wonderful." She says

Supper goes by smoothly as the many guests talk and feast. It is after the food has been devoured that Rhaella can feel herself beginning to sweat. She is sure they expect her to dance or make some big speech, anything that will have all eyes on her.

A sharp tap interrupts her train of thought.

"Do you want one of these? There weren't any on your side of the table." Aemond asks, his hand is out stretched with a delicate-looking pastry in it.

Her glance drops to the table where a large plate full of them rests just within arms reach of her.

Laenor nudges Rhaenrya who sits by his side. His wife had been scolding Luke for eating too quickly and making himself sick.

"I believe Prince Aemond is blushing." He whispers

Rhaenrya follows his gaze to the young children who are staring into each other's eyes.

"He is handing her a pastry," Rhaenrya observes, " He looks....rather foolish."

"His face is red, look at his cheeks and ears." Laenor laughs

Suddenly the young prince's eyes fall on Laenor and he immediately switches his attention to the intricate hairstyle Rhaenrya has donned for the evening.

"Yes, very uh well done, the braids." He mumbles

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a child." Rhaenrya laughs

"Little boys don't like it when people know their crushes. Aemond won't want me knowing his." Laenor says, thinking back to how embarrassed he was when Laena first found out about his crush on his father's cupbearer.

A moment passes and before he knows it, Rhaenrya grabs his arm.

"Looks like you were right." She says

Laenor's eyes follow his wife's and he is surprised when he sees Aemond leading Rhaella, the same nervous little girl who nearly combusted when she tripped in front of him once to the center of the room for a dance.

"Maybe he'll step on her feet." Aegon's disinterested voice carries across the table.

A lively beat starts up and all eyes are on the two children who clumsily try to recall all the dance skills they've learned in their lessons over the years.

"They shouldn't be the only ones down there. Rhaella looks like she's going to faint and Aemond...well he clearly isn't doing well either." Laenor says

He's about to ask his wife to dance for the first time in years when the doors to the hall open wide.

"Gods help us." He hears Alicent murmur.

Rhaella can feel the sweat trickle down her back as Aemond tries to lead her in a dance. She hasn't had many dance lessons but she swore she did better in those than she was now.

The sound of opening doors makes her and Aemond pause. A man and woman, with two young girls behind them, enter the room. Each of them had valyrian features but the man stood out the most.

"Daemon." Her Uncle calls from behind her "I did not think you were coming."

Daemon? As in...

"And miss the first feast thrown in my daughter's honor, on her name day?" His foreign voice fills her ears for the first time ever.

Daemon Targaryen. Her father has shown his face to her for the first time ever.

"Let's go back to the table," Aemond whispers as he grabs her hand to lead her back towards their family.

"Daughter." Daemon calls "You have grown up."

Rhaella feels like someone has stuffed cotton into her mind. She does not know what to do, or how to reply to this man.

Aemond leads her back to the table and she stiffly sits back down.

"Someone bring chairs. Lady Laena must sit down." Ser Lanor's voice makes its way into her mind.

At some point, the pregnant wife of Daemon's sits down, most likely near her brother. Her daughter, those half-sisters Rhaella had heard about many times were in her peripheral vision, as was her father.

"Wonderful party, brother. Truly a worthy display for my eldest." Daemon praises

The room is silent and Rhaella watches as Daemon takes a long sip of wine from the cup a servant brings.

"So, daughter. I'm glad to see you take after me in looks. You look a bit like my mother, Alyssa." He says with a playful smile "Either way I am glad you don't look like that bronzed bitch. If that had happened I'd remained in Pentos."

Brozed bitch? Did he mean your mother? He was speaking ill of your deceased mother?

"Daemon. Enough. This is a night of celebration. You are not here to torment anyone." Viserys speaks up

Daemon shakes his head a bit and laughs before his attention is drawn to Laena.

The music begins again and Rhaella feels like her heart has lept into her throat. So many times she had imagined what it would be like to meet her father. She was told that he was a fierce warrior with a blood-red dragon named Caraxes. Instead of the gallant dragon rider she had expected, she was met with a crude man who clearly shared no love for her mother.

Her eyes were bleary with tears when Edric approached the high table to retrieve her.

"Your Grace, might I take Lady Rhaella back to her chamber. I think tonight's events have been a bit too much for her." He asks

"Yes, I think that is for the best." Visery's words bounce around in her mind as Edric helps her stand.

She locks eyes with Aemond one more time before leaving. His eyes seemed like they were full of pity as he disappeared from her view.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I've spent years filling your head with tales of his heroics. I failed to teach you what a crass man he truly is." Edric softly said

"It is not your fault. It is not anyone's but his own." Rhaella whispered back.

Ewww, cancel Daemon!!

Jk. I love Daemon. He's just going to be a bitch for now. (In true Daemon fashion I guess.)

Anyway sorry if some people seemed a little ooc. I like to Imagine Rhaenrya, Laenor, and Viserys as pretty jolly people, especially towards kids.

Next Part

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@caspianobsessed

[capquinn]

Bug would be so worried about him 🥺

oh poor buggy would be so scared - she’s never seen quinn hurt on the ice like that, especially not bleeding 😭😭😭😭

warning: mention of blood, quinn’s high stick injury, nothing crazyyyyy

The game had only just started when it happened. You were sitting on the couch with Bug curled up beside you, her tiny legs tucked underneath her as she clutched her favourite blanket. Her attention on the screen wavering, flickering between the game and the stuffed animal in her lap, but the moment Quinn went down, she stilled.

“What's wrong with daddy?” she asked, her voice tiny and alarmed as her little brows furrowed in confusion.

Your stomach clenched as you watched Quinn lying on the ice, his hand clutching his face, blood seeping between his fingers. It didn’t matter how many times you’d seen him injured — it always felt like the air was sucked out of the room, leaving that familiar, sickening pit in your stomach. But when you turned to Bug, her wide, confused eyes glued to the screen, her little hands clutching her blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white, your own fear paled in comparison. What must it feel like for a three-year-old to see her dad like that? To not understand the game, the risks, or the context — just the sight of someone she loves hurt?

The sight of Quinn on the ice, clutching his face as blood poured from his mouth, was too much — even for you, and you’d seen this kind of thing before. But Bug? She certainly didn’t need to see her daddy like that, hurt and bleeding. You knew it would only upset her, scare her in a way that her little heart wasn’t ready for.

“We’re just going to look away for a second, okay?” you said, your voice as calm as you could make it, even though your chest was tight with worry. “Daddy’s fine, but let’s turn around for a minute. Look — why don’t you show me how Mr. Bear can wear your blanket?” You pointed to her stuffed animal, hoping to draw her focus away, to shield her from the worry swirling inside you.

Her little body squirmed, her head craning to peek over her shoulder. “But what’s wrong with daddy?” she pressed, her lip wobbling as she turned back to face you as you gently tucked her closer against you, and her eyes searched yours. "Is he hurt?" she asked, her voice small and shaky, and it twisted something deep inside you.

You forced a smile, keeping your voice calm and steady. “Just a little, sweetheart. Sometimes daddy gets bumps at work, like when you fall off the jungle gym. But he’s really strong and really brave, just like you so he’s going to be okay.”

Her brows furrow, mouth slightly agape and she turned sharply to look at the tv again just as the camera showed Quinn disappearing down the tunnel. Her tiny hand clutched yours tightly.

“Where’s he going?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“Just to get cleaned up,” you reassured her. “It’s like when you scrape your knee and we wash it and put a band-aid on. Daddy’s got lots of people there to help him.”

It took a few more minutes of gentle distractions before she stopped asking questions, though her worry lingered in the way she clung to your side. When Quinn finally returned to the ice wearing the fishbowl helmet, her eyes lit up, a mix of relief and confusion as she studied him closely.

“Why’s he wearing that?” she asked, tilting her head, her brows knitting together.

“It’s to keep him safe for the rest of the game,” you explained, brushing her curls back with a soothing hand.

She cracked a hesitant smile, her lips twitching up as her concern began to fade. “It looks funny,” she said, her giggle soft and genuine, the sound breaking through the tension in your chest and making you smile for the first time since Quinn had gone down.

“It does, doesn’t it?” you agreed, leaning closer to her. “Maybe we’ll call him Bubble Head when he gets home.”

She giggled again, a little louder this time, her tiny fingers finally letting go of your hand as she relaxed into your side.

“Bubble Head,” she repeated, her voice light with amusement, her eyes now focused on the screen as Quinn skated with ease.

“There you go,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “See? Daddy’s okay.”

By the time Quinn walked through the door, Bug was in her room, humming to herself as she played with her toys. You met him in the entryway, your eyes immediately darting to his face, taking in the neat stitch on his upper lip and the faint cut just beneath his nose.

“Let me see,” you murmured, already cupping his face gently in your hands, tilting his head back to inspect the damage. He let out a soft sigh, standing still as your thumb brushed against his cheek, careful not to get too close to the injured areas.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, his voice low and soft, trying to reassure you. “Barely hurts.”

You arched a skeptical brow, your thumb grazing his jawline before stepping back slightly. “Yeah? Then what’s with the flinch when you smiled just now?”

Quinn smirked — or tried to. It was more of a lopsided tug of his lips. “Okay, maybe it stings. But really, it’s fine.”

When he pulled you into a hug, his cheek brushed against yours in the most tender of gestures, his arms wrapping around you as if to say he was fine, no matter how much evidence suggested otherwise. But even that tiny movement made him wince, his breath catching, and you immediately leaned back, concern flickering across your face.

“Your teeth okay?” you asked, the teasing lilt in your voice softening the worry in your eyes as you scanned his face again.

That earned a short, breathy laugh, one he immediately regretted as he winced, shaking his head slightly.

“Teeth are fine,” he said, the words tinged with humor despite the strain. “But you’re gonna kill me if you keep making me laugh.”

It was that laugh — soft, warm, and distinctly Quinn — that carried down the hall, catching Bug’s attention. A moment later, you heard her tiny feet padding rapidly toward you, her voice echoing as she shouted, “daddy!”

Quinn’s tired expression softened instantly, his eyes lighting up as he turned just in time to catch her barreling into him. Her little arms wrapped tightly around his legs, and his hands rested gently on her back.

“Hey, Bug,” he said, his voice gentle despite the faint strain in his smile. “Miss me?”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with her bright, eager smile — only for it to falter the moment her eyes landed on his face. Her expression twisted in an instant, her nose scrunching in unmistakable disgust. The stitch in his swollen upper lip, the dried bloody cut below his nose — it was clearly not what she had expected.

“Ew,” she declared with brutal honesty, her tiny voice cutting through the quiet.

Quinn couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped him, though it was tinged with self-consciousness. He felt a little less like her dad and more like Frankenstein’s Monster with the way she was staring at him. He knelt down to her level, his movements slow and careful.

“Yeah, not my best look, huh?” he said lightly, though the laugh quickly faltered as a sharp pain shot through his split lip, making him wince. Bug’s eyes widened at the reaction, her expression shifting again. The initial disgust melted into something softer, something far more vulnerable.

Her little hands reached out hesitantly, fingers brushing against his before curling around his much larger ones. She fidgeted with them, her gaze flickering between his face and his hand, unsure and searching, as though she wasn’t quite certain he was okay enough for her usual cuddle — the one where she’d fling her arms around his neck and nestle into his shoulder like it was her safest place in the world.

Her wide eyes searched his face, her tiny brows furrowed with confusion and worry. “Does it hurt?” she asked softly, her voice trembling just enough to make Quinn’s chest tighten.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice gentle, steady. “But it’s not so bad now, Bug. I’m okay.”

Bug didn’t look entirely convinced. She glanced at you, her lip wobbling slightly, then back at Quinn, her little hands tightening around his fingers like she could anchor him there, safe and unhurt. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this — someone so strong, so steady, now looking hurt and fragile. She had never experienced what it meant to see someone she loves be hurt, to watch it unfold in front of her and not be able to do anything to stop it. It was new, and it was scary, and her little mind struggled to piece it all together.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice small, and Quinn could feel the weight of her worry in every syllable.

Quinn nodded, his free hand lifting to gently cup the side of her tiny face, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a soothing gesture. “I’m sure, Bug,” he said softly, his voice steady and warm.

Bug’s lip wobbled again, her big eyes still uncertain, but she leaned into his touch like it was the reassurance she needed most.

“But you were bleeding,” she whispered, her voice trembling as though the memory alone unsettled her.

Quinn’s heart twisted, and he gave her the gentlest smile he could manage, leaning closer until they were eye to eye. “I was, huh? But look—” He pointed to the stitch on his lip and the faint cut below his nose. “They fixed me right up. Just a little bump, and now I’m good as new. Promise.”

Bug's gaze lingered on the injury, and then she leaned in close, her small arms curling gently but firmly around Quinn’s neck as though she couldn’t hold him tight enough. She nestled her face into his shoulder, her little body sinking into his warmth, and the softest sigh of relief escaped her lips. Quinn’s arms wrapped around her immediately, his hold strong yet tender, his chin resting lightly atop her head like he needed the comfort just as much as she did.

“She’s been worried about you all afternoon,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion as you watched them. The sight of your little girl seeking solace in her father, her worry so tangible for someone so young, pulled at something deep inside you.

Quinn nodded, his throat tightening as he pressed a soft kiss to Bug’s hair, ignoring the sharp sting it sent through his split lip.

Bug clung to him, her tiny hands gripping his shirt, and you could see the way her worry started to ease in his embrace. Yet the guilt lingered in Quinn’s expression, etched in the tight lines of his face and the way his shoulders hunched protectively over her. The pain from his injuries and the weight of the day seemed to press on him, but he held her as if she was the only thing grounding him.

“I’m sorry, Bug,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart. But I’m here now, and I’m okay. I promise.”

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 14

Chapter Summary: Nancy and Robin take a shot in the dark and Steve tries to protect you from the supernatural. When the darkness comes to get you, will his love be enough to protect you?

Content Warning: Upside Down scary stuff, swearing

Word Count: 6.0k

Author’s Note: Sorry this chapter took longer; I’m involved in a lot at college and I’m in some executive positions in the organizations I’m a part of and somehow everything is going wrong at the same time (yay!) so I’ve been putting out a lot of fires (like a girl boss of course). I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Message me to be added to the taglist and get updated when the next chapter is posted!

Series Masterlist | Part 13 | Next Part

***

“Do you guys understand any of this?” Steve asked Lucas and Dustin as the three of them sat in the Wheelers’ basement. He was staring at the words on the article Nancy and Robin had found and none of it was making any sense to him. He was scared. Not knowing what was going to happen to you and when was tearing him apart and he needed to understand so that he could find some way to fix it. To protect you.

To save you.

A chill ran down his spine as he thought about it. He thought back to the way you had stood there, locked inside your own body and twitching slightly as you were trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake you from. He thought back to your activities afterwards. How you felt when he had shown you just how much he loved you. The way your body moved against his. He thought about how you were all he ever wanted—no, needed—and he couldn’t bear the thought of living a life without you in it.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” Dustin stared at him judgmentally.

“Oh, ‘straightforward’? Really?” Steve asked, not adoring the condescension in the freshman’s tone.

“So far, everyone Vecna has cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude that Nancy found. He’s the only known survivor. If anyone knows how to beat this curse, it’s him,” Dustin explained. Steve could see a glint of optimism in the young boy’s eyes and he desperately wished he felt the same way. This situation just felt so hopeless though. How the fuck were they supposed to combat an otherworldly threat when the attacks were occurring cross-dimensionally?

“That’s assuming he was even cursed, Henderson, which we just don’t know,” Steve spat back, frustrated with the lack of answers. “How could Vecna have existed in the 50s? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Steve dragged a hand down his face in an attempt to keep his frustration at bay. He snapped his head up when he heard your voice lilt down the stairs, getting closer as you descended them.

“As far as we know, Eleven didn’t create the Upside Down; she just opened a gate to it,” you specified as you joined the group. Steve was quick to throw an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. Now that you knew that your time may be limited, Steve was extremely touchy. It was as if he thought that holding onto you would prevent another vision. You knew better, but still leaned into him, soaking up the comfort of his affection. You flushed as you remembered your activities from last night, desperately wishing that you had more time so that you could have more nights wrapped up in each other’s presence.

“Yeah, the Upside Down has probably existed for thousands of years…millions even. I wouldn’t be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs,” Dustin hypothesized, and you glanced over to see Lucas roll his eyes a bit. You couldn’t help but chuckle. Even at the end of the world, those kids could still make you laugh.

“Dinosaurs? What are we even talking about? Come on Dustin, you can’t just—“ Steve started but Lucas cut him off to refocus the conversation.

“Okay, but if there wasn’t a gate in the 50s, how did Vecna get through? How is he getting through now?”

“And why now?” You added.

“And why then? What he just pops out in the 50s, kills one family and he’s like, ‘I’m good’ just to come back thirty years later to kill some random teens? No offense,” Steve quickly added the last part turning to you as you glared up at him. You rolled your eyes and pulled away from him a bit before reaching into your back pocket.

“I almost forgot,” you said, fishing three sealed envelopes out of your back pocket. “These are for you guys.”

You handed them the envelopes. Steve furrowed his brows as he looked at you confused, studying the sealed letter in his hand. Dustin began to open it but you stopped him quickly. “No! What are you doing? That’s not for now. Don’t open it now!”

“Okay,” Dustin replied confused, stopping his previous movements. “I’m sorry, but what is this?” He held up the envelope and waved it slightly to emphasize his question.

“It’s…it’s a fail-safe,” you answered, your voice small. You caught Steve’s expression fall as you said it and you felt your heart ache in your chest as you thought about how you wouldn’t be able to be there for him to help him grieve. You felt a pang of guilt as you realized you would be the one causing his pain. “For after…you know, if things don’t work out.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, y/n?” Steve took a step towards you and grabbed your hand.

“Steve,” you looked him in the eyes, a pained expression across your face. Before he could continue arguing with you, Nancy, Robin, and Max bounded down the stairs. You all turned your attention towards the girls as Nancy opened her mouth to speak.

“Okay…we have a plan,” she smiled at all of you and suddenly you felt a feeling in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a while:

Hope.

You all quickly moved to sit on the various couches in the basement, Steve sitting next to you with a hand on your thigh as you listened to Nancy’s game plan.

“Than’s to Nancy’s newspaper minions, we are now rockstar psychology students at the University of Notre Dame,” Robin started, handing you and Steve each a folder containing the fraudulent academic files for one Ruth and Rose.

“Nice GPA,” you smirked, looking at Nancy and she smiled back at you. It felt nice to be optimistic for once.

“So we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we’d like to speak with Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics—“ Nancy continued, but Max cut her off, having been there for the whole conversation.

“To which they said no,” the redhead explained.

“But, we landed a three o’clock with the director. Now all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor,” Robin added on.

“Yeah, we’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework,” Steve started, holding up the article printout, “We’ve got a lot of questions.”

“A lot,” Lucas emphasized.

“So do we. Hopefully Victor has the answers,” Nancy answered.

“Wait a second,” you spoke up, staring down at the file folder in your hand. “Where’s mine?”

“What?” Nancy’s face scrunched up, clearly confused by your question.

“I said, where’s mine?” You repeated yourself, holding up the file folder, your jaw beginning to set as you realized you weren’t being included.

“You’re not going,” Nancy replied, reaching over to grab the file from you.

“I think the fuck I am!” You stood up quickly, pulling the folder out of her reach. Steve quickly grabbed you by your belt loop, rolling his eyes and tugging you back down to sit next to him. You sat in a huff and he quickly pulled the folder away from you. “Hey!”

“Y/n, you’re not going. End of discussion,” he said plainly, handing the folder back to Nancy.

“I can’t do anything here Nancy! Maybe I could help with this asylum director guy….or-or-or I could ask Victor the right questions; I know what it’s like after all,” you defended yourself, but you could tell by the looks you were getting that no one was going to change their mind. Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but Robin spoke up before she could get a word out.

“Look, y/n. It’s too dangerous. Just let us do the heavy lifting, and you stay here where it’s safe.”

“Nowhere is safe, Robin. It doesn’t make a damn difference where the fuck I am,” you spat. Robin’s heart sank at your words because they were true; it didn’t really matter where you were. Vecna would find you regardless.

“Y/n, if you won’t do it for yourself, would you do it for me?” Steve spoke up. The expression on his face made you break, letting out an angry puff of air before you responded.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, quickly standing up and going upstairs. Your eyes were welling with tears and you didn’t want everyone to see you in your vulnerable state, even if it was completely understandable. Steve started to stand to go after you, but Dustin stopped him.

“Just, let me try and handle this,” the boy spoke up. Steve wasn’t sure why he was letting him, but shrugged. He knew how much you cared about the kids, especially Henderson, so it was worth a shot at least.

“Y/n?” Dustin asked after he had ascended the staircase. He caught sight of you wiping tears from your eyes before you were able to turn away and hide it.

“What do you want Dustin?” You asked, your voice sounding watery as you continued to cry, a small sob escaping your body.

“We’re doing everything we can,” he started, “and I know it doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s the best we can do. And I know you want to be in on all of the action, but I think it’s okay for you to take the backseat on this one.”

“I can’t just sit around here doing nothing,” you cried out, still trying to gain your composure as you turned around, wiping at the tears falling down your face. “I mean, I just…I just want to be out there so-so I can fix it. I don’t want any of you guys getting hurt,” you added, trying to swallow the lump in your throat as you looked at Dustin.

“Then stay here and protect us. Okay? You’ve always done a kick-ass job at it, so be here for us now. The most important thing is that when all is said and done, you’re still here. So let Nancy and Robin sort it out because I know they will. We all will,” Dustin reassured you. You walked over to the boy and pulled him into a tight hug. You still felt guilty about the way he had to grow up so fast, fighting unimaginable horrors while trying to figure out who he was and where he fit in. You couldn’t even imagine what that would have been like at his age.

With the pang in your chest, you felt pain return to your head, groaning as you let go of Dustin and put a hand to your temples. You felt something warm trickle from your nose, reaching up to wipe at it, fresh blood smearing across the back of your hand.

“Y/n, are-are you okay?” Dustin stared up at you, wide-eyed and frantic. You took a deep breath and the pain subsided a little, as you nodded at the boy.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” You replied, giving him a weak smile in an attempt to hide the many ways you were not in fact okay.

You tried to take your own words to heart as the two of you made your way back down to the basement.

I’m still here.

***

Nancy and Robin had gone off to go try and talk to Victor Creel, leaving you, Steve, Lucas, Dustin, and Max to twiddle your thumbs in the Wheelers’ basement while you waited for answers that likely weren’t coming. You were sat next to Steve and he was running his warm hand in circles across your back as you sat there, head in your hands and foot anxiously tapping.

You were restless. You couldn’t sit here doing nothing; you had loose ends to tie up in case Nancy and Robin’s investigation didn’t turn up roses. You needed to make sure you were ready to leave this world behind, and presently you weren’t.

Suddenly you stood up, causing Steve to jump as he had zoned out, his thoughts drifting elsewhere before your sudden movement had brought him back to the present. You marched across the room and picked up Dustin’s walkie.

“If we go to East Hawkins, will this still reach Pennhurst?” You asked, inspecting the gadget in your hand.

“Of course, yeah,” Dustin replied.

“Woah, why are we talking about East Hawkins?” Steve stood up, taking a slow step towards you. He looked concerned and confused; a brutal combination. You gave him a look that immediately had his anxiety skyrocketing. “No…no! Absolutely not!”

You paused, you and Steve staring each other down as if you were about to have a shootout in an old western movie. Much like reaching for the draw, you slowly reached into your pocked, grabbing the contents before lifting your hand up and dangling Steve’s car keys in between you. His mouth gaped open, his mind not quick enough to process what was happening before you grabbed your backpack off a folding chair and bolted up the stairs.

Steve stood frozen for a second, in disbelief that any of this could really be real before darting after you. “Y/n! Y/n, come back here! I’m serious!”

It didn’t do much to stop you, seeing as you were already out the door quickly pacing towards the familiar BMW. “Y/n…Y/n! Seriously, I’m not fucking joking. I’m not driving you anywhere!” Steve shouted after you as he started to catch up.

“Steve, if you think I’m going to spend what might possibly be the last day of my fucking life in the armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement, then you’re out of your mind,” you shot back, still sauntering towards the car. If your life wasn’t in jeopardy, Steve would have thought it was hot; the swish of your hips, the way your hair bounced with each assertive step you took, the way your jeans hugged your ass. But now was not the time to get distracted.

“I don’t think you heard me, y/n. I’m not fucking driving you.”

“Oh I heard you loud and clear, Harrington. But if you won’t drive me, then I guess I’ll have to drive myself,” you said, unlocking the driver’s side door to Steve’s car.

“Um, fuck no!” Steve exclaimed, putting a hand on his car door to hold it shut as you attempted to open it. You whipped around, your eyes shooting daggers at your boyfriend. His face was mere inches away from yours as he leaned on his arm, his bodyweight keeping the door shut tight. You continued to stare into his eyes, your stern expression causing his to break as he sighed and relented, dropping his arm in exasperation. “Fine. But I’m driving.”

You tossed him the keys as you smirked, walking around the car as you eagerly hopped into the passenger seat.

“That was kind of wild,” Lucas mumbled to Dustin and Max who all stood dumbfounded by the encounter between the two of you.

“Yeah, she’s got him wrapped around her finger,” Max chuckled, “good for her.”

The three kids piled into the backseat of Steve’s car and Steve drove off after making sure everyone was appropriately buckled. The radio that was usually always on remained silent, no one really in the mood to listen to whatever overplayed tune was undoubtedly being broadcasted across your small town. You navigated, hesitant to tell Steve where you actually needed to go. You could tell he was nervous, his right hand reaching across the center console to squeeze your upper thigh, needing to hold onto you.

After you had spent a decent amount of time driving, you finally saw the sign you’d been looking for. “Turn here,” you spoke up, clearing your throat uncomfortably as you said it. Steve looked at you questioningly but followed your instructions, slowly turning into the Roane Hill Cemetery.

“I’ll just be a minute,” you assured Steve as you began to unbuckle to get out of the car. He gently grabbed your elbow, stopping your all fire hurry to exit the vehicle. “Steve—“

“Y/n, I get it. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay? We all are. You don’t have to go through this alone,” he spoke gently. You turned over your shoulder and saw the sincerity in everyone’s eyes.

“This,” you replied, looking out the car window up the small hill of the cemetery, “this is something I have to do alone.”

Steve nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before letting go and looking at you with sympathy as you began making your way towards the clearing at the top of the hill. When you made it to the top, you took a deep breath as you read the name on the gravestone. Jim Hopper.

You hadn’t interacted much with Hawkins’ Chief of Police much before the Upside Down had entered your life. In fact, though you knew he was an effective cop, you wrote him off as an egotistical asshole, rolling your eyes at his usually irritating antics. However, after all that you had been through together, he became the kind of person you wanted to emulate. He did the best that he could to protect all of you kids. He would do anything to make sure you were all safe. He’d even given his life for it; the ultimate sacrifice.

He was truly a hero. But now he was gone, nothing left of him besides the grave in this cemetery and the memories in your heart. You felt guilt tear through your chest as you noticed that the flowers you had left the last time you came had began to wither and wilt.

“I don’t really know what to say,” you started off, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t fix any of this. I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep the kids safe like I should’ve. I’m sorry that you can’t be there for El. I’m sorry that you didn’t get to see her grow up…that-that you don’t get to see her smile anymore. Every time I keep telling myself that all of this is over. I-I keep lying to myself and acting like everything is fine and that I’m happy and that everything is going to turn out alright, but I think deep down I know that it isn’t going to be.”

Tears began to stream down your face. “We all deserved to have these normal lives that we always pretend to have, you know? Those kids deserve to have normal lives. They shouldn’t have to worry about monsters underneath their feet and alternate dimensions that want to do them harm. They deserve to have the kind of lives that you wanted them to have, and I’m sorry I couldn’t make that happen Hopper. This all just feels like one big mistake…or-or a nightmare I can’t wake up from. And I feel guilty every time I look at Steve and my heart lets me feel lucky for even just a fraction of a second because if anything is true, we are not fucking lucky.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you wiped your nose on the back of your sleeve, breathing in a shaky breath as you tried to fight the sobs that your body desperately needed to let out. You felt guilty admitting it, but the happiness in your relationship with Steve did scare you. You didn’t deserve to be happy; you were sure of it.

When you opened your eyes, your heart stopped in your chest. The clear skies that had been there once before were now overcast as fog poured around you into the cemetery. You heard distorted laughter that sounded like it came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. A chill ran down your spine as you heard a voice ring out.

“Y/n.”

***

Steve looked up the hill towards you. You were still sitting in front of a gravestone and you looked okay enough, but Steve didn’t trust any of it. He had a bad feeling deep within his gut, and he began to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Alright, it’s been long enough.”

“Steve, just give her some time,” Max spoke up. She knew that you were going through some things and knew you needed the space.

“I have, alright Mayfield? I’m calling it. If she wants to be mad at me, she can be fucking mad at me,” he grumbled as he slammed the car door shut, making his way up the hill. Cemeteries always made him feel uneasy, but he was confident that the pit in his stomach was unrelated as he swiftly jogged up the hill towards you.

“Y/n, baby? It’s time to go, alright? I know it’s hard, but we really need to get—“ Steve’s words died on his tongue as he saw you sitting there, unresponsive. Your eyes were rolled in the back of your head and blood began dripping down your nose.

“Y/n? Y/n! No, no, no, baby wake up! Wake up, y/n, you’re scaring me,” Steve’s words were short and shaky as he quickly went to wipe your nose, his first instinct being to take care of you. “Guys!”

Steve yelled down the hill and the three kids came running. Steve continued to shake you, watching as your body jolted around but you stayed catatonic, somewhere else in the moment, no doubt in some terror filled nightmare. A far off whimper escaped your lips and if Steve wasn’t already losing it, he would’ve lost it right then and there.

“Y/n! Please wake up!” Max shouted, snapping in front of your eyes, hoping it would draw them forward and alert, but they stayed rolled back in your head, eyelids twitching and fluttering.

“Come on, y/n. Get out of there!” Lucas yelled, beginning to shake your shoulders too. Steve turned towards Dustin, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“Call Nancy and Robin! Just go! Call Nancy and Robin!” He shoved the boy, and he fell backwards, tumbling over as he scrambled to make his way back to the car. He had never seen Steve so desperate before and they had been through a lot together. Dustin felt his blood run cold. This was life or death.

“Y/n, come on baby. I love you, please come back to me!” Steve cried out, squeezing your hand in his, hoping that wherever you were that you could hear him somehow. “Think of all the things we haven’t gotten to do together yet…I mean, we-we have a whole life ahead of us! I want to do it all with you, but you have to come back to me.”

His voice cracked, and when you didn’t respond he began shaking your shoulders again, feeling sick to his stomach at the way your head lolled in every which way, your neck unable to support the weight of it. Your nose continued to bleed and your limbs were twitching. He could see your neck straining and it reminded him of the way you looked as you tried to breathe through a panic attack.

“Y/n! You gotta get out of there!” Lucas shouted.

“Y/n! Please! You’ve got this, come on!” Max chimed in.

Dustin finally came bounding up the hill, dropping Max’s walkman and a bunch of cassettes in front of them that he had dug out of Steve’s glovebox. “Steve! What’s her favorite song?!”

“Why?” Lucas asked, panic radiating from his voice.

“It’s too much to explain right now! What’s her favorite song?!” Dustin screamed.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice, rifling through the tapes until he found the one with a label and his shitty handwriting on it. His hands were shaking as he fumbled the cassette, shoving it into the walkman before quickly and haphazardly placing the headphones over your ears. His hands trailed to either side of your face as he looked at you, his eyes frantically searching your face, hoping that whatever fix Dustin seemed to think he found would be instantaneous.

The cassette tape had all of the songs you guys would belt out in the car when they played on the radio. He loved hearing you sing off key to the songs and the way you’d dance in the passenger seat making faces to fit the lyrics of the songs. He had finally decided he couldn’t wait around for the radio to play all of your favorites, desperately wanting to watch you dance every time he had a chance to, so he made you a mixtape with all your favorites. He was saving it to give you for your first anniversary, which was now four months away. But after all, in this situation, it was either early or never, so he pressed play and Running up that Hill by Kate Bush began to blare through the headphones.

It had been a second and nothing was happening. Your eyes were still rolled in the back of your head and you were still twitching. “It’s not working Dustin!” Steve shouted, his hands falling from your face as he turned towards the Henderson boy. No sooner had he lost contact with you did your body begin to lift off of the ground, your legs coming uncrossed as you levitated out of reach from your friends down below.

“No! Y/n!” Steve shouted. He wished he hadn’t let you go. Maybe if he hadn’t he could have kept whatever was about to happen from happening. He thought back to all of the horrors Eddie had described and he began to hyperventilate. He couldn’t watch that happen to you. You were his everything.

In your nightmare, you were tied up by vines, pressed against some sort of pillar staring straight at Vecna. He kept insisting you belonged there, reminding you of how much danger you put the kids in. You deserved to stay here in this dark and dreary hellscape. You had seen Chrissy and Fred and you felt like you could vomit thinking about your body being contorted in the same way.

“Let me go!” You choked out, hardly able to speak with the vine around your throat cutting off your access to oxygen. Suddenly you heard something familiar as a melody drifted towards your ears, building slowly in the background until the music swelled and nearly became all that you could hear. You turned ever so slightly to your left and saw a glimpse into the real world. Your heart stopped as you watched your boyfriend desperately calling your name, your body hovering several feet above his head.

“They can’t help you, y/n,” Vecna assured you, his crooked hand coming up towards your face.

“You’re wrong,” you choked out and suddenly the vine behind you snapped and you fell forward, breaking out into a sprint towards the tunnel of reality just out of reach. You tried to keep your footing, but you slipped several times on thick red pools of blood, the sticky liquid soaking into your clothes. You tried to ignore it as you continued to sprint. Your legs kept wanting to give up, but you just kept thinking about all you had left to live for and channeled that into your sprint.

You thought about Steve and the life you wanted to build together. You thought about the way you knocked on his door that fateful day. You thought about the way he let you in even though he didn’t have to; the way he changed for you, the way he tried every day to be better for you. You thought about the jokes he told that made you laugh so hard you cried and the way he’d carry you up the stairs when you fell asleep on the couch. You thought about the kisses he’d pepper across your skin whenever he had the chance to. You thought about the way you felt when you were wrapped up in him the night before and how you didn’t want your first time to be the last time. You thought about the way his brown eyes stared into yours, the way they said so much without him ever having to open his mouth.

You were going to look into those eyes again. So you sprinted. Past falling debris, through rough terrain, and towards him.

Towards home.

Your eyes peeled open and you gasped, staring at the tree line in a way you’d never seen it before. Your stomach dropped as you began falling to the ground, plummeting back towards earth. You hit the ground hard, and you were hyperventilating as everyone immediately surrounded you. Steve pushed past the kids and wrapped his arms around you, clinging to you as if you’d disappear again.

“Y/n! I thought I lost you!” Steve cried out as he placed a frantic kiss against your lips. He pulled back to look at you for a second, fear and panic across his face before he leaned in and kissed you again. You were his oxygen and he needed you to breathe right now.

You pulled away, gripping his bicep as you attempted to calm down your breathing. “I’m still…I’m still here,” you reassured him, tears falling from your eyes.

He was quick to wipe them away before he buried his face in your neck, taking a deep breath as he reveled in the comfort of your familiar scent. He placed a gentle kiss against your neck and pulled you towards him even tighter.

You were still here, and he wasn’t going to let anything like that happen ever again.

***

You all had spent the night at the Wheelers’ again, deciding now more than ever it was vital to stick together. Nancy had had to fight Steve to get him to sleep, convincing him that the rest of you were more than capable of taking turns watching you to make sure that you were okay.

“Dustin…Earth to Dustin,” Eddie’s voice rang out over the walkie talkie. Steve groaned as he woke up. He was sore from the way that his body was positioned in the chair he had been sleeping in. He grabbed the walkie off of the coffee table, pressing down the button to speak into it.

“What the fuck do you want Munson?” Steve spat.

“Oh, Harrington. Um, I’m going to need a food delivery, unless you want me going out into the world.”

“Don’t fucking do that. Just stay where you are and we’ll be there as soon as we can” Steve grumbled, sighing as he aggressively went to set the walkie back down, but Eddie’s voice rang out again.

“Hey, can you pick me up a six-pack? I know it’s dumb to be drinking right now, but a cold beer would really cool my nerves you know?”

As Eddie said it, Steve rolled his eyes, turning back towards the couch you were sleeping on, needing to remind himself of your constant kindness to calm himself down. It had the opposite effect when he saw the empty space, you being nowhere to be found.

“I’m gonna have to call you back,” Steve quickly relayed to Eddie before dropping the walkie talkie and bounding across the basement to wake up Dustin. “Dipshit! What the fuck?! You’re supposed to be watching y/n!” Steve spat as the boy finally opened his eyes.

“Yeah…yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Where the fuck is she?!”

“She’s right there,” Dustin started, but his heart dropped as he looked over and saw that you were gone, “she was right there a second ago. I just dozed off for…an hour.”

His eyes got wide as he looked at his watch and the two boys bounded up the stairs. Steve finally cooled off when he saw you sitting at the kitchen table with Holly. You were helping her color a coloring book page, stopping every once in a while to help her cut her pancake. Steve felt his heart skip at how domestic and maternal you looked, hoping you would all get past this so that he could have the future with you that he envisioned, with perfect little combinations of the two of you sitting at your own kitchen table.

“Everything okay?” Mrs. Wheeler asked. Steve just nodded making his way towards the kitchen table. Nancy had woken up when the boys had not so quietly ascended the stairs and she was rubbing her eyes as she also made her way to the kitchen.

“I think it’s so sweet that you guys are sticking together like this,” Mrs. Wheeler continued, pulling Nancy into a very stiff and awkward side hug that she did not reciprocate.

“You could try sticking together at a different house for a change,” Mr. Wheeler chimed in, not even looking up from his newspaper.

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve asked, sitting down next to you, his hand going to the small of your back.

“Yeah,” you gave him a weak smile. “It’s just kind of hard to sleep after…everything.” You chose your words carefully so as to not let Nancy’s parents in on the reality of the absurdity that was your life. “But Holly let me borrow some of her crayons and we’ve been having a fun morning.”

You smiled at the small girl and Steve felt his heart explode. Nancy stood next to you and spoke up. “Is this what you saw last night? Do you think he’s just trying to scare you?”

“Yeah, but this stuff is different,” you said, gesturing to the drawings in front of you. “I don’t think he wanted me to see any of this.”

“Maybe you invaded his mind,” Dustin suggested, “I mean, that’s what he’s been doing to you, is it that big of leap to suggest that somehow you wound up in his?”

“Yeah, maybe the answer’s somewhere in this incredibly…vague drawing,” Steve added on, holding up a piece of paper and rotating it. “Damn, we need Will.”

“I know, but I tried them again this morning and it’s the same busy signal,” you replied, putting your head in your hands.

Nancy suddenly started reorganizing the papers, folding them and overlapping them until they made an image that made some semblance of sense.

“It’s…it’s a house,” you spoke breathlessly. You weren’t sure how you had managed to draw a deconstructed house considering you weren’t even close to being an artist, but hey accidental accomplishments are accomplishments nonetheless.

“Not just any house,” Nancy looked at you wide eyed. “It’s Victor Creel’s house.”

You shuddered as Nancy and Dustin quickly moved downstairs to tell the others about their discovery. You got up and moved the other way towards the Wheelers’ family room, desperately needing to remove yourself from the oblivious remainder of the Wheelers that were in the kitchen. Steve quickly followed you, gently grabbing your hand as he spoke up.

“Hey, baby…what’s wrong?”

“Steve, I just don’t have a good feeling about this,” anxiety was etched across your face as you said it. He squeezed your hand and pulled you towards him.

“I know, y/n. But answers are good…that means we’re getting somewhere,” he reminded you.

“But that’s the thing,” you started, “just because we’re getting somewhere doesn’t mean it’s anywhere good. Vecna’s smart, he knows what he’s doing. I mean, what….what-what if we’re walking into a trap! What if this is exactly what he wants us to do? We can’t keep just following every thread he gives us. He’s weaving a web, Steve. And if we’re not careful, we’re all going to end up getting caught in it.”

“We have to try though, right? We can’t just give up or else we’re putting everyone—not just us—everyone in jeopardy,” he tried to appeal to your selflessness and world-saving tendencies, but really deep down, he only wanted to follow this thread because it meant they had a shot at saving you.

He dropped your hand, holding his up between the two of you, and you were met with the familiar sight of his extended pinky.

“To saving the world?” He asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Your face relaxed for a moment, your lips breaking into a small smile.

“To saving the world,” you agreed as you wrapped your pinky around his before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

You didn’t like where this was headed, but you could at least give it your best shot. If it meant that you and Steve could have more pinky promises and more soft kisses, then it would be worth it.

You just hoped that it wouldn’t ruin you in the process.

***

a/n: I hope y’all enjoyed the chapter. Reblog to give me a much needed boost of serotonin ;)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @maeve-wileyy @palachannie @chaerfull @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @bethsvrse @aheadfullofsteverogers @quinnsadilla @chervbs @sheisjoeschateau @goosy-goose

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

You can call me, Sir.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific chapter warnings : Failed CPS case, implied abuse with belt, clothes shopping (I tried my best to be as body neutral as possible), sugar daddy Arron, sales lady is rude towards reader, Things are getting spicy, first rules, use of pet names, reader is described as having hair long enough to sweep over one shoulder, trying on clothes, Let me know if I need to add anything!

A/N: The amount of love that has been shown for this story so far has absolutely filled my heart! I’m sorry this chapter took a minute to come out, I got married last week sooooo 😍 that slowed the process down a little. Haha 💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

9 years ago

The worst part was the way her nose stung, like a million tiny needles stabbing her all at once. But she had to breath through it, because only selfish, weak, incompetent people cried. So she forced her thoughts solely on the older woman who sat across from her, her grey hair loose around her shoulders, and the bright pink blazer she wore with matching skirt. ‘I think name is Deloris?’

Not what you would have thought when you heard the term ‘CPS worker’. She smiles at the young teen as if she was Y/n’s best friend and there isn’t a care in the world as her fountain pen taps against her yellow notepad. “You’re mother must have been a lovely woman.”

A muscle in Y/n’s jaw twitches, but she manages to return Deloris’ smile briefly. “She was.”

“So is that really the reason you have been skipping school?” Her green eyes were full of mock sympathy, and Y/n can only assume how many of these ‘troubled teen cases’ she has had to work.

“Yes ma’am.” It was the 8th anniversary of Y/n’s mother’s death. Today. She can hear her father in the other room, moving about the kitchen, pretending to not be listening through the thin walls. Y/n squeezes the pillow in her lap tighter to her churning stomach, already anticipating how the rest of the night will go.

“I’m sorry, dear. I know losing a loved one can be hard, but that doesn’t mean we can go about making things hard for the ones we still have.” Deloris tilts her head, her lips in a slightly pout as she regards Y/n, who only bites her cheek to keep quiet. She drops her chin to her chest, fanning shame with a small nod, placating the woman. “Good. I’m going to go talk with your father now, I hope you understand the severity of the situation you’ve almost caused. I expect to hear you are in school tomorrow.”

Deloris doesn’t take long in the kitchen with Y/n’s father, her pitchy laughter grating on Y/n’s ears. Her father escorts the worker to the door, his hair is combed, beard neat and he’s dressed still in his work clothes. A fitted grey collard shirt and jeans. His usual Forman outfit. At one point in Y/n’s life she can remember thinking her dad had been very handsome, but that had all been before the drinking.

“Have a good evening Miss. Deloris.” Her fathers southern accent is always laid on heavy whenever he is trying to impress someone, or to get his way. And for most of his life it worked well. Y/n wonders sometimes if that is how he had charmed her mother.

As the pine door shut, Y/n closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath before the storm. When she opens her eyes again, she’s staring at the brown tweed couch across from her, out of the corner of her eye she can see her father’s still form in the archway of the living room.

The sound of leather hissing through his denim belt loops makes her stomach drop, her breath quicken in her already tight chest. “Gone an got me in trouble huh?” He folds the worn leather over in his hands, snapping it together watching as she jumps in her seat. Her gaze remains focused on the spot Miss. Deloris had occupied, the old springs and cushioning holding her shape. “You ain’t learned trouble girl.”

Present Day

It’s almost unbearable how cold it is outside, the dark clouds over head threatened to snow on the busy sidewalk as you shove your hands as far into your jacket as they will go. Aaron is pressed against your side, his arm wrapped around your back, directing you through the crowd and to the front of a large store.

Chic’s End

Your nose scrunches slightly at the different mannequins in the brightly lit windows who’s clothing is on the higher end of fashion. Pieces you’d never find in your own wardrobe. Aaron guides you towards the door but you stop abruptly shaking your head. “Hotch, aren’t there places a little less… fancy?” Your tone gives away your discomfort as you scan the nearly empty store.

Aaron sighs, stepping around you so he can look you in the eye. “Rule number one: call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us, Hotch is too formal. Now I’m sure there are, but you deserve to be a little spoiled…” He pauses, his phone vibrating in his pocket making him frown. “Now go inside, let me check this and I’ll be right in.” As he fishes for his phone he pulls open the door for you, letting you walk in with a small head rush.

‘Our first rule?’

You take the moment you have some to look around the store front, a few customers are mingling about the rows of clothing, associates putting away inventory or helping their guests. A brunette is standing at the register, her hair sprayed and pinned into a tight bun atop her head. She glances at you, her nose turned up at your simple outfit, without a word of welcome she goes back to her work.

The door is opening a moment later, a small bell going off as Aaron steps in, the icy breeze trying to follow. “Sorry, David was checking in.” His voice reaches the woman at the counter, grabbing her attention. She watches as he shrugs out of his winter jacket, her gaze fixing on the flash of jewelry on his wrist with a smile.

“Is he okay?” You ask, handing Aaron your own jacket as he hangs them on a coatrack.

“Oh yes, he’s-.”

“Good afternoon, is there anything I can help you with?” You turn, the same woman from before now standing in front of you. She’s wearing a form fitting black dress, the apparent dress code for the establishment, a silver name tag pinned to her collar reading ‘Denise.’ Gone is her dismissive attitudes from before, her blue eyes staring intently at Aaron with a sly smile.

You feel something in your chest squirm, making you take a step in front of Aaron as you pull your best smile into place. “Oh thank you, but we are just-.”

A warm hands is suddenly on your shoulder, pulling you into Aaron’s side. “We’re looking for some work attire; blouses, pants, skirts and such. Along with more casual wear.” He squeezes your shoulder as you slide him a disgruntled look.

Denise regards you with a tight lipped smile, nodding her head slightly. “Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel, an extra sway in her her step that makes you roll your eyes as you pull out of Aaron’s grip following her. He follows behind a few paces, regarding you with masked amusement.

She takes you to the back of the store, pointing out the sections of racks you’ll need and where on the walls you can find work appropriate pants and skirts. Denise turns to Aaron once again, stepping to close for comfort as she stares openly at his suit. “You know, we have the latest in Brioni’s suit jackets that I think would complement you rather well, Mr…” She brushes her hand against his arm and your eyes widen.

“No thank you. I’ll let you know if we need any further assistance.” Aaron comes to stand beside you, his expression hard to read as he places a hand on your lower back. Denise’s eyes narrow slightly, her smile faltering before she pulls her emotions back.

“Please do.” She saunters of, throwing one last look over her shoulder.

You laugh unbelievably, “Jesus… she was a bit forward.” You turn toward the rack beside you, picking up the first shirt your eyes land on. It’s a simple white blouse with navy blue pinstripes, the neckline is a little low for your taste but otherwise it’s very pretty. You pick up the tag and instantly drop it, your mouth falling open.

“What?” Aaron asks, sliding the clothes along the pole, looking through the selection.

“This! These clothes are way to over priced.” You turn the tag towards him, and he squints at the small numbers. ‘75.56’. He frowns slightly and you think he’s about to agree with you, call this whole ridiculous thing off until he shrugs.

“That’s not so bad.” He grins at the incredulous look you level him, showing perfect teeth. “Darling you’ll come to realize the value that comes with certain things. Soon enough you’ll see the value in yourself as well.” He chucks you under the chin softly and you think that’s it.

You’re going to explode.

Everything it too much.

“Hotch, I can’t just let you waste that kind of money on me. You don’t know what you will need it for later, bills, or -.”

Aaron steps into your space again, bending down until he’s eye level with you and you clam up. His eyes are dark, burning with an intensity that has your shoulders slumping slightly. When he speaks his voice is quiet but direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “What did I say our first rule was?”

You stammer, your grip tightening on the fabric still in your hands. “You said… to call you Aaron.”

“Correct. So that’s one. Now, when I say I am doing something for you, buying you something, getting you something; do not doubt me. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. Do I make myself clear?”

All you can do is nod, your throat dry and tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. “Good girl. Now if you really find calling me Aaron to difficult, you can always call me sir.” You suddenly look like a fire had been lit underneath you, your face flushing a new shade of red he’d yet to see before. You turn away from him, trying to hide your emotions and aggressively shuffle through the clothes before you.

Aaron straightens with a satisfied smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour in and there is a mount pile of clothing in the cart in front of you. Everything you’ve selected draped over one side and everything Aaron selected on the other. You had found a discount rack, the red tags a twisted mess by now, but the 15% off sign did little to quell the guilt eating you.

“Okay… this is more clothes than I think Garcia even owns. I think we should-.” You’re talking absently, glancing up only to find Aaron is walking in the opposite direction of the checkout. “Oh for the love of all things holy.” You quickly follow, pulling the cart behind you as the hangers rattle together. He stops in front of a display of eloquent evening gowns and you follow his stare to the forefront of the display. A deep emerald green satin dress takes your breath away, with a sweetheart neckline and a slit that goes half way up the mannequins thigh. You peak around the back in awe, it plunges well down to the lower back, a sheer material with beautiful rhinestones occupying the negative space.

Aaron watches as you pick up the bottom of the dress, rubbing the buttery material between your fingers. “I would love to see you in it.”

You shake your head, though your focus remains on the dress. “There’s no reason to, when would I ever wear this? Besides we’ve been here for nearly an hour, if we don’t leave soon I’m sure Denise is going to jump your bones.”

Aaron chuckles at that with a shrug. “You might not be wrong, she’s been lurking around the corner ever since I took my jacket off and she caught sight of my watch.” You glance down at his wrist as he shows you a golden Rolex. You hum in understanding, putting the two together. A handsome, stylish man, with a nice suit and a watch that coasts a couple of grand. She sees dollar signs. “Go ask her for a fitting room.”

Glancing around you notice she’s no more than ten feet away, pretending to be busy with an already neatly arranged display of sweaters. You walk over, hands clasped behind your back. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t bother to look up, her head tilted as if in contemplation as she stares at the stack in front of her. “Yes?”

Your jaw clenches slightly, but you smile regardless. “I’d like to try that green dress on, where are your dressing rooms?” That finally catches her attention, she looks around you to the dress your talking about and then to the cart beside Aaron, the red tags turned her way. With a bemused smile she finally looks you in the eye.

“Sorry, that dress isn’t on sale, dear. Maybe come back some other time.” Her high voice carries farther than she thinks, reaching Aaron who’s eyebrows raised in surprise before furrowing as anger bubbles in his chest.

Before you can say anything he is by your side, startling you both. “She didn’t ask you if it was on sale. She asked if you had a fitting room.” Denise pales, his voice is harsh and edged making her shift on her feet as she begins to stammer

“Well I… it was just-.”

“Just what? It’s a simple question, this is a clothing store so you must have fitting rooms. She would like one opened.” Denise can no longer keep eye contact, her gaze flickering from his face and away again. “Now.” The command in his voice makes her move, her mouth agape and she’s pointing indirectly over her shoulder. She turns, quickly walking away and you’re left to stunned to react. Aaron’s hand finds your back again, pushing you forward, his other hand on the end of the cart.

The dressing area is three beiges booths with deep red curtains for doors. A large mirror takes up one wall that is lit up like Time Square during Christmas, and there are mirrors in the booths as well. “You said the green dress?” You nod, giving her your size and she’s running off again, her head down and face red. Aaron takes a seat in one of the mahogany chairs, folding his arms across his chest. He’s watching Denise leave with that same look he gives every unsub as they are being hauled off to their final destination.

“Um… thank you, for… for that.” You speak up, breaking the silence waiting on Denise to return.

He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his black shoe tapping the polished floor. “You don’t typically show when you’re upset or irritated, I had to step in. I also couldn’t stand by and let you be berated like that.”

This time it’s you who crosses their arms, glowering at him. “I wasn’t showing I was upset, so what she was being rude? It didn’t affect me.”

His lips pull into a sarcastic smile, head shaking. “Sweetheart, I’ve been working with you for three years, nearly four. When you get upset over something, even if it is trivial, you dig your nails into your palms. Most likely because you would rather focus on that then what’s stewing in your mind and your chest.” You blink at him, awareness washing over you as you shake out your hands, crescent indents marking your flesh.

Before you can snip at him Denise is back, placing the dress in one of the rooms and leaving without a word. Aaron raises an eyebrow and you huff, turning and walking into the booth before snatching the curtain closed. You take a moment to breath, your annoyance merging on anger as you begin to undress.

You have to force yourself to remember this is all apart of the contract, this is all small steps to whatever greater end goal he has. You can’t fully trust he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart, no one is like that. Working a career where you catch murderers and kidnappers and rapists has shown you such. The thought lingers at the back of your mind that maybe he’s pushing you to break and go to therapy where they will force your leave. It wouldn’t happen, you’ve come to far to let anyone treat you that way.

You step out of your pants, bending down to pick them up when you notice movement in the mirror. You look up, making eye contact with Aaron from where he sits and you go still. The only thing that moves is your heart as it suddenly jumps into double time.

Aaron’s eyes slowly rake over your body, the hunger in his eyes evident even from where you stand and you can feel your body respond. Heat rushes through your veins, leaving you lightheaded. He shifts in his seat, your eyes dropping to where he tugs at his pants legs, a noticeable bulge in his lap that makes your guts clench. From anxiety? Want? Curiosity? You aren’t sure. You quickly look away, his smile turning wolfish as you straighten and spin around, giving him a full peak at the matching black bra and panties your wearing before yanking the curtain fully closed.

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, your fingers suddenly tingling and your lungs working for air. Shakily, checking the curtain again and again you strip out of your bra, and pull the dress over your head. The satin is soft and cool, the green leaving your skin glowing in the light. It hugs your body in ways you wouldn’t of imagined and you… like it. It screams seduction, fun, and someone you’re not but someone you once might have wanted to be…

The only issue is you can’t zip it yourself. You struggle for a few minutes, contouring your body this way or that, but you can’t get the zipper more than half way up your back.

Reluctantly you pull the curtain aside just enough to peak your head out, your eyes instantly finding Aaron’s. He raises an eyebrow, his hands clasped together in his lap and you are more than aware of why. “I need her help.” Your voice is floaty and you clear your throat. “I can’t zip it up.”

“I’ll help you.” He stands, crossing the small distance in three long strides, quicker than you can reject his help.

“Wait- no, I’m-.” But he is pulling the curtain away from the other side and you curse the interior designer with a flourish of silent profanities. In the small space he seems larger than life, all broad chest and long limbs. He steps closer and you back up, an all to familiar dance you two have rehearsed before.

He holds his hand out, a gesture of reassurance but he is still looking at you like a starved man. “Spin around, pretty girl.” Your legs feel suddenly numb, like you’d never used them before in your life as you continue to stare. “It’s okay.” He whispers, taking another half step forward.

“It’s fine, it fits well enough without it zipped I’m sure it’ll fit great when it is.” You fight to keep your body lose and face expressionless, trying to mask the feelings bubbling in your guts. Aaron doesn’t say anything, only continues to stare you down, gaze never wavering. “Really.”

“Turn around.” You don’t want to listen, but the timber of his voice makes your body ache in a way that catches you more by surprise than anything else has these past 24 hours. Cautiously you lay your hand in his, letting his pull you in before spinning you around so you’re facing the mirror. He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, his fingers grazing across the naked skin pulling gooseflesh to the surface.

You stand as still as possible, hardly breathing as he gently slides the zipper up. His palms spread across your ribs, warm through the thin fabric. “What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful dress.” You whisper quietly, trying not to back down from his stare.

“You make it beautiful.”

“You’re only saying that.” He pulls you closer, your back hitting his chest, your body molding to his. A gasp disappears on your lips, his hips pressing into you lower back his erection prominent making you shiver.

“I can promise you I’m not.” His hand slips to your stomach, splaying across your abdomen, and a small noise hitches in your throat. He tilts his head down, pressing a tinder kiss to the crown of your head and all you can focus on is where he’s touching you and where he isn’t, but where you want him to. Your panties are suddenly slick feeling as you shift against him, his erection digging further into your ass.

“Aaron…” You try to warn, and he watches the way your eyes flutter, the shields you’ve so desperately and carefully constructed cracking under the weight of his stare. Some logical part of your brain, buried beneath the mush of your thoughts, is screaming and begging to run away. But how long had it been since you’d felt that fire in the pit of your stomach, curling your toes and making your thighs pinch together?

You’re about to open your mouth, say something, anything at all, when he is suddenly pulling away. “Come out here so I can get a better look at you.” Aaron steps behind the curtain leaving you to your spiraling thoughts and an ache you’d never imagine. Your face is flushed, eyes wide and pupils blown out over the color of your irises. It’s hard to keep the air in your lungs from rushing out in soft pants.

All you can think is that if this is how you react to a few simple words and actions, you’re screwed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The next half hour is spent paying for your clothing, a bill Aaron wouldn’t allow you to see, then moving the bags from the car to your hotel room. You stare at them now, laid out on your bed with furrowed eyebrows and your thumbnail caught between your teeth. How would you get these in your bag and on the plane with as little notice as possible?

“Maybe we can go get you another duffle bag tomorrow.” Aaron answers as if he could read your thoughts, and if you didn’t know better you would say he did.

“It’s okay.. Thank you for the clothing.” You manage, giving him a tight smile as you glance to where he is standing at the foot of the bed.

The entire car ride was filled with tension, his presence alone setting you on edge, all while he remained calm driving down the busy streets and helping you to your room.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiles at you, possibly more so from your compliance, his eyes like coffee. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

You bite your nail harder, looking back to the bags. “I’d like to just order my food to my room, I need to get this organized and finish my reports.” You expect him to argue but he only nods, coming around the bed and kissing the top of your head before he walks towards the door.

“I’ll check on you in a little while.” With that he leaves, and as the automatic lock slides into place you crumple. You sit heavily on the bed, running a hand through your hair like it might comb your thoughts back into place.

What are you doing?

What is he doing?

You groan in frustration, the feeling of not having control over what happens next beating on your bones and muscles. You haven’t relaxed since this began and you have a feeling you won’t for a long time to come.

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you would like to be tagged in the next parts please comment below and I will gladly add you! Thank you all for your support!

@kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs

[dross-the-fish]

A Spider's Touch

the train wound through the countryside carrying two young men bound for university. One a large, handsome, fair-haired Scottsman who's clothes were of fine cut and who's hair was styled in a fashionable cut and the other a slight dark-haired Englishman in dusty hand-me-downs, who had yet to outgrow the unfortunate stage of early manhood that left him with the bare wisps of a thin mustache and sideburns that would only sprout in patches along the side of a jaw still rounded with boyishness.

The two were clearly friends, they sat side by side and chatted easily and the larger of them was confident and relaxed, one arm propped over the back of the seat with his legs sprawled out in front of him. A dog eared magazine dangled loosely from his hand.

"You think old Hastie will be with us again this year?" he asked his smaller, darker companion.

"I hope so, it'll be nice to see him and with the three of us we could afford to rent a flat off campus. We're not even there and I'm already sick of the thought of living in the dormitories. Are you going to behave yourself this year, Harry?"

"I told you I would, didn't I, Utterson?" there was a faint touch of irritation. Don't nag me

"Of course, but one likes to be reassured," came the cool reply. Don't give me reasons to

They chatted awhile longer until Utterson began to nod off, his head falling to window. Henry Jekyll watched him, took note of a hand falling onto a knobby knee. It was not a lovely hand, in fact he was sure it would be quite ugly when its owner grew older. Bony fingers with prominent knuckles, dry skin around blunt, short nails that had been chewed to the quick and a thick vein that ran from the knuckle of the index finger diagonally towards a sharp wrist. When Gabriel Utterson grew old Henry was sure it would be skeletal and clammy, dotted with liver spots. Not a lovely hand…but a fascinating one, and one he couldn't stop gazing at.

Impulsively Henry's own hand reached out, traced that vein with a long elegant finger in a slow and deliberate stroke.

Utterson gave a twitch and his eyelids fluttered. Henry jerked back and made a quick show of being absorbed in his magazine. Utterson's brown knit, he grimaced rubbing his hand and looking about the cabin.

"Something wrong?" Henry asked coolly.

"I think something crawled across my hand."

"I think I saw a spider in here earlier," Henry lied.

"Disgusting, I hate those things," Gabriel shuddered rubbing a little harder as though trying to rid himself of the repugnant touch and the gesture made Henry's heart drop.

Disgusting

Loathsome…that's what you are

Don't touch me

the ugly voice in his head rasped and he felt a shameful heat rise to his cheeks. He held the magazine higher, hiding his face and he gave Utterson a hum of acknowledgement.

Gabriel Utterson would never understand why Henry Jekyll had remained so silent for the rest of the trip and he would be too busy looking anxiously for the invisible spider that had touched him to care.

…..

40 years later

…..

Gnarled, arthritic and covered in liver spots. the vein more prominent than ever.

Edward watched as those wasted skeletal hands gripped the top of a cane while Utterson stared at the abandoned townhouse once belonging to Henry Jekyll.

His hair had gone completely grey, and his mustache and sideburns had come in thick and full now on the wasted husk of a face.

When Utterson finally had his fill of grieving and walked away he passed very close by the alley where Edward hid, observing from the shadows. He stopped, as though sensing a presence and Edward went very still. The cane tilted as the weight of his hand leaned it forward, dark eyes squinting under heavy white brows scanning the darkness before him for signs of life.

he was so close…

Impulsively Edward reached out and brushed a finger along the vein of that hand with a touch that trembled and barely dared make contact.

Utterson started and dropped the cane with a clatter, shaking his hand as though trying to fling away the unwelcome crawl of a spider on his skin. He cursed. Picked up his cane and before he could rise to get a better look Edward had already disappeared.

[potassiumivy]

PLAYBOY. | jjk

❥ mdni. fic masterlist.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 008: HEARTBEAT.

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

YOU WERE LISTENING TO HIGURUMA, the pretty man you met earlier talk to you three about what you should do to help your case in front of the higher ups.

you were seemingly listening, muttering little 'uh-huh's and 'mhm's, but your head was empty. every word this man said went in your ear and out the other. 

you just couldn't focus no matter how hard you were trying.

he called your name, effectively getting you out of your trance. "did you understand what you have to do?" 

you smiled brightly. "not at all." 

kirara groaned, grabbing your hand before dragging you to corner of the room. "for the love of god, stop eyefucking him!" they whisper-yelled, "get yourself together!" 

you nodded in determination, lightly slapping your face to get out of it. 

"what got you so bothered anyways?" 

you looked straight into kirara's eyes and replied without missing a beat, "i wanna ride his face."

"...what?"

"i said—"

"wait, wait. i get it. it's the nose isn't it?" they snickered, making you nod enthusiastically. "ahah! i know you so well don't i, pretty?"

"but..."

"yeah?"

"i felt something." kirara raised an eyebrow, intrigued. they wanted to ask more, but they saw higuruma coming your way from the corner of their eye. the man told you guys to make your way back to your seats, since the meeting would restart soon. 

sitting right next to higuruma, you looked down at your lap, trying to gather the courage to look at his face. "psst," you started, getting his attention,  "i'm sorry for not listening. tell me again, i swear i'll try harder to—"

"there's no need." he whispered back, glancing at you discreetly. "just let me handle everything. i promise that they'll let you come back."

"even after gojo's scene?"

"yeah. even after gojo's scence. i'm not narcissistic, but i know that i'm good at what i do." he looked at you again, this time with confidence. "even if you make another scene right now, i promise you'll still win."

you thought about what he said. "you pinky promise?"

his lips twitched, and he linked his pinky with yours under the table. "yeah. i pinky promise."

a moment so sweet, unfolding under the bitter gaze of the zenin heir. 

*✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

*✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:

naoya was the one talking now, but he couldn't focus on anything except you and the lawyer talking in hushed voices. 

too close. you were both too close to each other. 

after that moment in the restaurant a few years before, he indirectly came to your defence many times. he wouldn't openly take your side, but he would talk shit about the other side. 

when higuruma stood up to talk, naoya took the opportunity to come closer to your side, listening to your conversation with kirara.

"so? what did you feel? your pussy skipped a beat or somethin'?" they asked jokingly, but you answered seriously. 

"i think it was my heart this time," you said, which made naoya's eye twitch. "i couldn't really tell, it's the first time happening. it just couldn't be my heart, right? i don't do relationships. maybe i'm just not getting laid enough."

"hakari literally dicked you down twice this morning."

naoya left, walking back to the spot next to his dad. he had heard enough.

he liked to believe that he hated you, just like how he liked to believe that he was the only guy you were messing around with.

maybe it was out of hate, maybe out of pettiness, but he wanted you to get punished for it. 

he faced your lawyer, smirking mischievously. "you know, it's not the best option to let a whore like y/n back here. she was on the cover of playboy. what would happen if people learn about it?"

"and how would you know about the playboy cover?" hakari asked rhetorically. this made the higher ups who were nodding along to naoya's words stop momentarily to ask themselves the same question.

this was the first time that you were a little scared of being judged. you didn't want higuruma to think less of you. 

"it's scandalous enough for me to know."naoya didn't flinch, although he could feel his father's stare on him. 

higuruma intervened this time. "and what's bad about it?" 

this made you relax a little, and kirara held you hand to show you that everything will be fine. 

"it tarnishes the college's image. it also gives a bad reputation to the jujutsu society. not all clans are so unmannered like the l/n clan."

hakari was fuming so you pecked his nose to calm him down. "i'll deal with him later, kin." 

in his big speech, something fell from naoya's traditional clothing. he froze, his face burning up in embarrassment, knowing exactly what it was. 

that playboy magazine.

"how hypocritical." higuruma commented, making your friends laugh. 

"shut up."

zenin naobito shook his head, leaving the room with his clan. well, except his son. 

you guys automatically won after. not like they could defend whatever just happened. you told your friends to go back to the dorms, saying that you'll join them later. 

you went back to find naoya still standing in his spot. you raised his chin with your hand, making his heartbeat accelerate with no signs of slowing down. 

"you're so pussydrunk. not like i'd blame you." you chuckled. your phone vibrated in your pocket, making you check the caller id. 

"would you look at that... my manager got me another deal. you better watch the covers of monthly magazines." before leaving, you turned back to him, looking at him through your lashes. "just meet me at my dorm tonight, will you?"

getting out of the room, you answered immediately. "should we celebrate with some dinner, shiu? your treat, of course."

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

next!!

©potassiumivy, 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate / modify / republish my works.

[ashen-vulture]

A Vulture In Therapy

It’s Never Been About Death (But It Is All I Think About)

-

The hospital was like a labyrinth. I remember having an anxiety attack the first time I went to inpatient therapy here, and the nurses who were talking to me were absolutely useless. They sent me to the wrong floor and were really pushy and suffocating even as I was starting to twitch and cry and hyperventilate.

Now I wore the same sticker tag every day and knew the route. Why did it require two different elevators to get to this floor? I have no clue. I didn’t build it.

My therapist and psychiatrist both wanted me to attend inpatient therapy, saying that it might help me develop some healthier coping strategies, and determine if further treatment would be worth pursuing. I think they were worried about how my suggestion for treatment overlapped with my obsession with death. People get concerned when I talk about how often I think about death. I have to reassure people over and over again that I don’t want to die. It’s a macabre and spiritual fascination. The historical, chemical, spiritual, emotional, and biological process fascinate me. Everything dies. It's one thing all of us animals of planet earth truly have in common.

And death feeds life. That has been the case almost since life has been.

Today was my next to last day. It helped to see other people who were struggling like me, especially when we helped each other with wisdom for our own lives. I made some friends I would never see again. I shared some good moments and some uncomfortable ones. Today was going to show them this other side of me, though.

Today we also ended up, intentionally or otherwise, with death as the main topic of discussion.

When you live in the south it’s hard to find anything that is secular. Even things explicitly said to be secular make sure that there is all the space for religious talk that people could possibly want. I mean I suppose it’s fair, we were talking about death and many people process death through religion.

Still, people kept trying to include me specifically in their religious talk, so when it was my time to speak…

Well…

“I’m not a religious person.”

Several people’s faces got awkward as they realized they had been trying to rope what they assumed was the only atheist in the zipcode into their church talk.

“I am spiritual though. I think about death a lot. I never learned how to mourn correctly. My family tried to hide death from me. I was never allowed to feel or express negative emotions, so even when someone died, I didn’t know how to cry anymore. I would just go numb. Besides, other people around me needed me, and I have a chronic need to be there for other people when they need me. I am a person who can reschedule grief. A month or two months or three would pass and then suddenly that grief would come knocking. My grandmother passed last year. It took me two months of time and three solid days alone to break down and cry.”

I tastefully edited out that the bourbon helped too, because two of the people there were recovering alcoholics.

“To me, the vulture is a sacred animal.”

I held up the painting I’d worked on during art therapy. It was of a swarm of black birds ascending into the sky. I know it looked grim and ominous to other people, but as I talked I could see them begin to understand.

“It doesn’t waste. I love scavengers in general. Creatures that take up the unwanted or lost. I see vultures and I see the grim cleaners of the world. Many people don’t see the value of the scavenger, but we’re far better off with them in it than without. Did you know that in areas with low vulture populations, rabies is more common? This is because without flocks of vultures to break down carcasses quickly, they are instead visited by feral dogs, coyotes, foxes, racoons, and many other mostly mammalian opportunist. This makes carcasses a disease vector. Parasites and disease can spread from conflicts over a carcass,” I realized I was beginning to overshare one of my hyperfixations. Time to wrap it up. “They rarely kill. They consume the rotten and undesirable. They prevent disease. I love seeing them because to me they are not just symbols of death, they’re life. There is no real death here, only the cycle of life reusing its building blocks to make more life. I don’t want to be embalmed when I die. I want to be put in the earth to rot, that way the molecules that make up my body can be where they belong. Everywhere. Death as a continuation of life. Everything that consumes me, I will be.”

I was used to creeping people out. The room was quiet for a bit, digesting the condensed documentary I had just unloaded on them, punctuated with my funeral plans.

What do you see when you look at me? I don’t look like a monster, not until you interact with me. My way of talking has never been quite human. I am physically the human animal. I don’t like that many humans don’t see themselves as animals. We are. We’ve tricked ourselves into thinking we aren’t, that we are something separated from the animals and plants and dirt, and that’s not healthy.

So I refuse to act. It unsettles people.

I am an animal of the dirt and sky and rain.

I just happen to wear human skin.

The conversation moved on.

The day’s session came to a close.

There was a new respect for vultures in that room. I walked away feeling lighter in mind and body. I stood on the 3rd floor of the parking garage and looked out over the streets.

I opened discord on my phone and scrolled back through a conversation with a friend.

-

tigergirltail - 06/06/2024 9:50 AM

Maybe wanting to be a therian is a symptom of being a therian. It didn't occur to me until last night that wanting to have the dreams was a sign.

ashedink 06/06/2024 9:51 AM

That’s a good point.

Kinda like how some people figure out they’re trans, not because of a presence of gender dysphoria, but by the absence of gender euphoria.

tigergirltail - 06/06/2024 9:55 AM

Wanting it is that first symptom.

Yeah, literally how I awakened.

-

We’ve been friends for so long, and we’re still finding new bridges to cross together.

Maybe I will follow you over this one too, if my therapist is satisfied with how inpatient therapy went.

Is it arrogant to try to become that which I hold in such high spiritual regard? Maybe that’s just human greed want it. There is no dysphoria here, I simply exist as I am regardless of my vessel.

But maybe I should try it. Maybe euphoria is waiting for me in an unexpected shape.

I mean, I’ll be an animal either way.

Maybe I'll be a happy animal.

[googleitlol]

This is leading up to some of my favourite stuff, we're getting closer to when dove and wukong can stop antagonizing each other so much but first they gotta go through a little more, uh… 'growing pains'.

Anyway have fun with this bit!

Dove Masterlist:

A Friend

“What did you do?” You frown at the three disciples looking to one another as though they didn’t have the answer themselves. “We’ve barely been here half a day!”

Bajie scratches the back of his head sheepishly while a worried smile stretches over his features. “Heh, I may have overheard our two hosts discussing how Master rejected their ginseng fruit. I was only curious, and Monkey was the one who took them.”

“You what?!” You look back at the trio in shock. You’ve heard of ginseng, a powerful fruit that can extend your life hundreds of years by smelling its aroma alone. Eating it can enable a person to live until their forty-seven thousandth year! The fruit itself can often appear to have limbs, it's what Tripitaka must have mistaken for a baby. You’ve heard how it takes nearly ten thousand years for a ginseng tree to bear its fruit, and these fools stole them?!

Wukong slaps Bajie on the arm. “Why would you tell her?!”

“We’re all at fault,” Sandy steps in, “we all ate the fruit.”

“Yeah, but Monkey had an extra one.” Pigsy tattles, his brother in question giving him a look of offence. Wukong raises his hands in defence, stepping closer to the pig. “I told you, the first one dropped!”

“And it doesn’t excuse the fact that we all ate one.” Wujing rests a hand on each of their shoulders, a subtle attempt to diffuse the situation.

“Stop it, all of you!” You shout over their bickering. Once they finally manage to quiet down, you continue. “What’s done is done, now you have to fix it before Tripitaka pays for it.”

The trio responds with groans and rebuttals, but eventually you manage to drag them back to the main hall where their master waits, accompanied by your two hosts. You can hear the two shouting at the monk before they even enter your line of sight, Monkey King bristling with bubbling annoyance as you all draw closer.  Their faces are pulled down by frowns, their anger present in the twitch of one’s brow.

The Tang Monk himself appears tired, an understandable feeling given the situation. “These two have informed me that some of their ginseng have gone missing.”

“It isn’t missing!” One shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at Tripitaka. “It was stolen, we know it! I’ve never seen a monk with such a lack of control over his disciples.”

“Master Zhenyuan tried to tell us how rowdy and disruptive your demonic disciples really are. I should have taken those warnings more seriously.” The other chimes in with a huff.

The bout of passion makes Monkey laugh. “Am I to believe you assume we did it?” The question makes you frown inwardly, the growing irritation staying buried for the sake of appearances. Is he really about to try and play this off like they’re innocent?

“Master Zhenyuan took with him everyone but us to his conference. You are the only ones present to steal it, so it must be you!” The second disciple replies, his frown deepening despite Wukong’s laughter.

The Monkey King shakes his head with a chuckle. “And why would we do that? How would we even know of this ‘ginseng’? You never told us of its existence.”

The first disciple huffs. “We offered it to your master, but he declined it.” “Ah, so you gave it to us.” “No, we ate it.”

“So you ate the ginseng, problem solved!”

“We didn’t eat the stolen fruit, we had what your master was offered!”

“Then the fruit wasn’t stolen?”

“No– I mean, yes! It was stolen! You’re mixing my words.” “I would never think to trick you in such a way.” Wukong grins, and you do your best not to roll your eyes.

Finally, the first disciple sighs. “Fine, then. We will go and count the fruit again. If there are less than twenty-eight, we will know that you stole it.” With a nod to his brother daoist, they exit towards the gardens. Back to the tree to recount the same number of fruits. What on earth does this ape think he’s doing?

A small gust of wind blows past, and you turn to see the source: another Wukong with his arms crossed, his smile so smug, you might think he managed to somehow bring the ginseng back on his own. There is, of course, one way you can think to restore the fruit, though it’s a last resort you don’t want to use unless absolutely necessary. But those thoughts hardly matter when you and the monks are faced with a second Sun Wukong.

The group looks in befuddlement back at the newcomer Monkey King as he lets out a breath. “To think they would shout at you like that, Master. You really should be grateful that I’m here for you.”

“What?” Tripitaka frowns, looking between the two monkeys while your own face pales. Realisation hits as the monk questions his disciple. “What is going on? Why are there two of you?”

“I thought to let a clone take care of our disrespectful hosts while I took care of a few things.” He shrugs half-hazardly, the copy returning to its original state as he did, a small tuft of hair.

“You just convinced them to go back and recount the fruit.” The monkey stiffens as you speak, which only serves to make the growing knot in your stomach tighten. “Sun Wukong… where were you just now?” He makes eye contact with you, and for the first time on this journey you see the impossible sight of slight regret in his golden irises. Whatever he has done, it’s best to assume that now is the time to leave. You quickly turn back to Pigsy. “Go grab our luggage, I’ll help you. Wujing, retrieve Ao Lie and bring him to the front gates. Tripitaka, wait at the gates with Wukong and get ready to ride.”

Tripitaka calls out for you as you turn to leave with Bajie. “Wait, you want us to run? Do you not think that is a bit of an over-reaction–” As he finishes his inquiry, one of the two disciples lets out a scream so loud their voice is able to carry throughout the entire temple.

“I think this is a perfectly reasonable response.” You answer, catching Wukong’s gaze for a moment and glaring before running off with Pigsy to retrieve everyone’s luggage. With how little you all carry, it took little time to gather everyone’s things and meet the others outside.

Sandy already has Tripitaka on the horse, the group exiting the gates and racing down the mountain once you and Bajie arrive. Wujing takes what you’re carrying and you transform to keep up with the other demons and horse’s fast pace. Tripitaka looks back on occasion, watching carefully for any signs that your group was being pursued.

Even without any signs of chase, you and the pilgrims continue in your pace well-into the night. Only when you distance yourself from the mountain does the group of pilgrims slow to a stop. Ao Lie diverts from the path that leads away from the mountain, guiding the pilgrims to take cover along the edges of a forest. With the cover of the surrounding foliage and night, you transform back as everyone takes a moment to breathe. Of course, just when you get a break from the demons and dilemma-inducing rivers, something has to come along to keep everyone on their toes. To make matters worse, you ran from Zhenyuan’s temple! Perhaps he might’ve forgiven the disciples for eating his ginseng, but the look on Monkey’s face before you left was enough to dissuade that notion from your mind. You just hope his disciples that had been hosting you would be alright.

Despite the worries racing through your mind, they’re put to a halt when you hear Wukong’s laughter. “That was a close one, wasn’t it?”

Pigsy, while crouching with his hands on his knees to regain his breath, looks to the disciple in confusion. “Brother, what happened?” At the question, the demon lets out a nervous chuckle.

“I may have gotten a little angry. I mean, you saw how they were shouting at Master!” He scratches his head nervously.

Tripitaka dismounts from the horse, stepping closer to his disciple. “Pilgrim, what did you do?”

The monkey demon looks between his master and his brothers, then to you before turning back to Tripitaka. His weight shifts from one leg to the other. “I, uh, may have gone back to the ginseng tree. Andknockeditover.” He adds on the last part quickly, averting his gaze to the ground.

His swiftly-spoken words are caught easily, the Tang Monk’s eyes widening considerably while you digest the information. “You what?!” 

“At least we’re out of there, didn’t you hear what those idiots were saying to you?” He defends himself, though it barely registers to you. How could he have been so stupid? Can he never learn from his mistakes?! “I couldn’t just stand there and listen to how they were treating us. Nobody disrespects Old Monkey and gets away with–”

The demon is cut off as the palm of your hand meets his face.

The echo of the slap is met with silence and wide eyes, shock engraved in the faces of your companions that you don’t digest. All you can hone in on is the source of your anger, emotion you feel boiling to the surface. You clench your fist in an effort to contain it. “Do you ever think about anyone besides yourself?! All you had to do was apologise! Is your ego too inflated for even that?”

“How dare you–” He steps into your space, eyes narrowing but you stop him again.

“That fruit didn’t belong to those disciples, it belongs to their master! What might happen to them if he returns with nobody else to blame for your actions?” You push your finger into his chest, though it doesn’t push him back much. “One might think spending five hundred years under a mountain would change a person, but you’re still as selfish and narcissistic as you ever were!”

You can feel your hand shaking with anger, and quickly turn away with a scoff. “I shouldn’t even be wasting my breath on you.” Before he can have the chance to argue, you transform and fly off, rushing into the cool night air to give yourself a moment to breathe. You’re getting too worked up, and shouting won’t change anything. Sometimes it was just difficult to remember that with him around.

You don’t go too far, finding a nearby stream pretty quickly to rest beside. You turn back and begin to pace, finding that moving often helps calm you down. It's a struggle, your anger still bubbling beneath your skin. Words can only do so much to describe how you feel. After spending all this time with him, you’d think the Monkey King might have eventually become easier to be around. Maybe you’d be able to get along with him better after all this time, but no. You’ve had moments of sympathy, moments of understanding, but every time a step is made towards the two of you coexisting peacefully, he makes you take three steps back.

After some time, you kneel by the stream, dipping your hand into the cool water and letting it weave around your fingers. Stealing the fruit was one thing, but knocking down the tree? The ginseng itself takes thousands of years to grow, it’s why you never had the option to eat it yourself during your stay in the heavens. How long did it take for that tree to grow old enough to bear such fruit? Only for it to be knocked down by an impulsive ape.

Your thoughts are put on hold by footsteps and steady trots slowly approaching, and you turn to see Tripitaka steadily making his way to you with Ao Lie. You quickly rise to your feet to meet them, their appearance reminding you of how you very publicly slapped someone in front of your group. Yes… that may have also been a bit impulsive yourself.

“Are you alright?” Tripitaka gives you a perturbed look, and you can only imagine Ao Lie would share it if not for his current form.

You quickly nod. “Yes. I apologise for causing a scene, Tang Monk. I should not have snapped the way I did, especially in front of all of you.” As you speak, he steps closer, meeting you at the water’s edge.

“For how often the two of you bicker, I was surprised it took this long for something like this to happen.” You almost see a trace of an amused smile, though it is quickly exchanged with worry. “Though, it was surprising that out of everything I’ve witnessed from my disciple, this is what has upset you the most.”

Moving past you, the monk takes a seat by the stream, gesturing for you to join him. “They all ate the fruit, you know.” He hums, his eyes watching the water.

You look down as you take your seat next to him, your hands fidgeting in discomfort as you try to distil your lingering anger. “He’s the one who stole it. He brought down their tree.”

You feel Tripitaka’s glance but are unable to meet his eyes. “Your anger, if you don’t mind my saying so, feels more personal than that.” At that, you look back at him in surprise. “Perhaps talking about it could help alleviate some of that feeling?”

You can’t help but feel a little taken aback by the offer. “I couldn’t ask that of you, but I appreciate the offer.” You give an awkward laugh, shaking your head.

“Nonsense.” He rests a hand on your shoulder. “How many times is it now that you’ve given me peace of mind? The very least I could do is lend an ear to a friend that needs it.”

Friend? The title takes you by surprise. You look at the man for a minute, who simply offers a smile. After a few moments, you return the look with a soft smile of your own. It’s been months since you’ve started this journey with Tripitaka, you suppose there isn’t much harm in sharing your thoughts with him like this.

With a sigh, you look back to the steam. “He’s never thought about anyone other than himself, it’s infuriating. Even before we began this journey, the ‘great Monkey King’ has never shown any regard for others.” You start, closing your fists as you speak.

“I remember you mentioning you’ve met before. Is it right for me to assume his actions when you first met were just as callous?” Tripitaka inquires, his assumption almost making you smile with its accuracy.

“Even before we met.” You shake your head, a frown quickly finding its way onto your face. You begin to recall the Peach Festival, how your master had planned to give you a peach of immortality for the journey, and how Sun Wukong took all the stone fruit for himself.

Tripitaka nods along as you explain the reason behind your time in the heavens. “So Sun Wukong took your chance to become immortal?”

“It was more than that.” You continue as your reflection frowns up at you. “A few months after I moved to the palace, I was retrieved by Moksa to visit a village close to our master’s home.” You look back to the man as you elaborate. “After being rescued from my own village, I spent my years growing there. When I was young and had just learned my transformation, the other children would go into the woods with me. They made a game out of trying to find me in the trees.” A soft melancholy smile begins to form on your face, the memories faint but still present.

It only lasts for a few moments. “Lin… He was a good friend of mine. Before the Peach Festival, I promised to tell him what it was like there. He had just become a man before my departure and when I came back… he was elderly. Surrounded by a family I couldn’t recognise. He died as I fulfilled my promise to tell him what I had seen before I was taken back.” You feel your eyes begin to water but continue nonetheless. “Five days later, Moksa brought me down once more to say goodbye to his wife, a woman I thought of as a sister. A week after that, our friend, Guiying. By the end of that month, I had lost nearly everyone I knew.” Your voice starts to crack so you pause to clear your throat and turn your gaze back to the stream, though you can feel Tripitaka's eyes on you.

“Whether or not I could have had that peach, I knew I would have to say goodbye eventually. But without it, I missed their entire lives. Their weddings, their first child, I couldn’t comfort them when they lost their parents. They all lived their lives… and I never got the chance to be there for it.” You notice a tear in your reflection before your expression hardens. “All because of that selfish demon.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent, but it doesn’t take long for Tripitaka to speak. “I’m sorry, I can hardly imagine how hard it must have been. I can barely hold myself together when a demon jumps onto our path.” He laughs a bit when reflecting on his own struggles, and it makes you crack a smile. “Does Wukong know what he’s done to you?” The question makes you scoff. “He wouldn’t be able to hear past the noise of his own ego even if I tried to explain. All he ever does is belittle others or talk about himself. Even how he defended himself for uprooting the ginseng tree, it wasn’t because they were disrespecting you, it was because they were yelling at his master. If it were Pigsy or Sandy, he would have laughed!”

Your reply makes him hum, the man stroking his chin in thought as you continue. “His main source of entertainment is watching people suffer. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how he ruined my past life.” He doesn’t have a response for that, instead letting the two of you sit as the sound of the stream running past fills the silence.

“…How mad was he that I slapped him?”

Tripitaka gives an amused huff to the question. “Pigsy and Sandy had to hold him back. He stopped fighting them when I stepped in.” You look back from where the monk came from, the horse still watching over the two of you. You partly wonder what the other disciples are doing now. “I think he was less angry about you hitting him, it was more so that he wanted to have the final word.”

That sounds like Sun Wukong. “I won’t apologise for it.”

“Even if I wanted you to, I’m not your master. But Bajie and Wujing should be held accountable as well. I’ll have to think of something for them once we get far enough away from here.” Tripitaka gives a weary sigh, clearly exhausted by his disciple’s antics.

Taking in one last deep breath, you stand up and offer the man a hand. “Thank you, Tripitaka. You were right, it feels nice to have someone to share this with.”

Tripitaka smiles before taking your hand and hoisting himself up. “I am always here to listen. Like I said,  you are my friend.”

“Yes, a friend.” The word makes you smile, your anger feels lighter now, making room for something sweeter. It’s been some time since you’ve had a friend.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

In Search of Silverthorn | Sebastian Sallow x OC #5

Summary: When Professor Sharp assigns a rare ingredient project, Sebastian and Evangeline take their research to the field, embarking on an adventurous quest to find the elusive Silverthorn Herb. But when a cave-in traps them, Evangeline’s hidden fear surfaces.

Words: 9,449

Tags: Adventure, Claustrophobia, Comfort, Fluff, Slow Burn, Unspoken Feelings, Post-Canon, Friends to Lovers (Implied), Friendship, Not Actually Unrequited Love

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

The dungeons were as dim and chilly as ever, the faint scent of herbs and lingering potions ingredients mixing with the damp air that seemed permanently settled in the stone corridors. Sebastian took his seat at the usual bench in Potions, smirking as he saw Evangeline sliding into place beside him. Being back in class, partnered with her after everything that had happened last year, was an undeniable comfort—a reminder of simpler times, even if they were both aware of the tension lingering just below the surface.

“Welcome to Sixth Year potions,” Professor Sharp’s voice cut through the low hum of chatter as he moved to the front of the class. The students quickly silenced, focusing on him with a mixture of curiosity and, in some cases, dread. “I trust you’re all aware that this is no longer the introductory level you were accustomed to in your previous years. This year, we’ll be moving beyond the basics and into areas that require both skill and respect for the ingredients and practices we use.”

The room was silent, each student hanging onto his every word—some in eager anticipation, others with a hint of apprehension. Garreth Weasley was already leaning forward on his elbows, his face alive with curiosity, though Sebastian could tell he was likely hoping for a chance to experiment.

Sharp’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, as though he sensed the eagerness. “While I know some of you are eager to get your hands on ingredients and try your own… methods, today we will not be brewing.” A collective groan rose from the class, Garreth’s disappointed sigh loudest among them.

Sharp held up a hand, and the groans quickly silenced. “Patience,” he continued, a steely look flashing in his eyes. “The theory behind potion-making is just as important as the actual process. If you don’t understand why an ingredient is used, you’ll find yourself making foolish and often dangerous mistakes. We’ll spend today discussing the properties of several advanced ingredients and how each interacts with others.”

Evangeline exchanged a look with Sebastian, a small smile playing on her lips. She could practically see Garreth wilting in his seat. Sebastian leaned over and whispered, “I’d bet a galleon he was already planning what to blow up.”

Evangeline smirked, whispering back, “We’d better keep an eye on him when we do start brewing.”

As if he’d heard them, Professor Sharp’s gaze flicked in their direction, silencing their conversation. “You’ll find that one of the most crucial components of advanced potions work is knowing how to identify and source rare ingredients—some of which you’ll be handling for the first time this year. And as I’ve said, understanding is key.” He paused, scanning the class. “Let me be perfectly clear: while I encourage enthusiasm, I do not encourage recklessness. Many rare ingredients are dangerous to collect and difficult to handle. It’s not unusual for professional Potions Masters to spend years acquiring just one sample.”

Sharp went on, his voice level but commanding. “Today, we’ll be covering the properties of three particular ingredients: Dragon’s Breath Blossom, which is used in powerful energy-restoring potions and elixirs that enhance magical stamina; Celestial Dewdrop, known for its ability to enhance focus and clarity, but only forms only in moonlit valleys during the peak of a full moon; and Fireleaf Fern, known for its ability to resist intense heat and even flame, but is difficult to find in the wild.

As Professor Sharp continued his lecture, his deep voice filling the classroom with meticulous detail on each ingredient, Sebastian’s attention began to drift. The damp chill of the dungeon, the faint, mingling scents of herbs and spices, and Sharp’s deliberate pacing all seemed to lull him into a haze. Words like “reactivity,” “precaution,” and “volatile properties” floated in and out of focus, but he found himself more interested in the flickering torchlight casting shadows over the rough stone walls.

Beside him, Evangeline was scribbling intently, her quill gliding across the parchment in a steady rhythm as she jotted down Sharp’s every word. Sebastian stole a glance at her notes, his eyes tracing the neat, tidy lines. She was thorough as always, and he felt a rush of gratitude, knowing he’d need her notes later when he inevitably missed half the details Sharp was drilling into them.

He stifled a yawn, shifting in his seat and absently doodling on the corner of his parchment, something that vaguely resembled a thestral. The prospect of getting out of the castle and actually seeking it out was far more appealing than listening to Sharp’s endless cautions. He let his gaze wander back to Evangeline, her brow furrowed in concentration. She had braided her hair today, and the way a few loose strands framed her face made him realize, not for the first time, just how stunning she was.

But Sharp’s announcement jolted him back to the present. He tried to mask his curiosity as the professor handed out their first assignment: an in-depth analysis of a rare ingredient.

“Each of you will pair up,” Sharp announced, his voice carrying a note of challenge. “You are to choose a rare ingredient from the list I’ll be providing. Your assignment is to analyze its effects, handling precautions, historical significance, and any associated risks. And while you may feel inclined to take… creative liberties,” he added, casting a pointed look in Garreth’s direction, “I advise against it. Many ingredients are rare for a reason, protected by magical law or natural hazards.”

Across the room, Garreth looked deflated, shoulders slumping as he mouthed something that might’ve been, They never let me do anything fun. Meanwhile, Sebastian’s mind was already buzzing with ideas. The professor’s emphasis on caution, as far as he was concerned, was just more reason to ignore it entirely.

Sharp approached their table, handing Sebastian and Evangeline a neatly folded parchment listing the rare ingredients available for their research. Sebastian unfolded it, reading aloud as Evangeline leaned closer, their heads nearly touching, and he could smell her shampoo, a shampoo, a soft, floral scent that reminded him of springtime blossoms and something delicate, uniquely hers.

Evangeline’s finger traced down the list as she read out the ingredients in a soft murmur, her focus entirely on the parchment. “There’s Starroot… used in mind-enhancing potions. And Bloodroot—though that one’s toxic if mishandled.” Her voice had a gentle cadence, each word measured as she scanned the list, seemingly oblivious to Sebastian’s distraction.

“Frostbloom Petal… thoughit's only in the coldest, most remote areas, like the Canadian tundra.” She paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered it, then moved on. “Phoenix Root, which has healing properties but is dangerously reactive to heat. And Silverthorn Herb… known for enhancing mental clarity.” She glanced up at him, catching his eye with a small, excited smile. “This one could be interesting, don’t you think?”

Sebastian blinked, realizing he’d barely absorbed a single detail she’d listed. His mind was too preoccupied by how close she was, the soft light of the dungeon illuminating her profile, casting delicate shadows along her cheekbones.

“Sebastian?” Her voice pulled him back to reality, her brows raised in faint amusement as she waited for his response.

“Oh—right, Silverthorn,” he replied, trying to sound as though he’d been listening the whole time. He managed a grin, attempting to shake off his daze. “Yeah, I think that’s the one. Mental clarity sounds… promising.”

Evangeline tilted her head, a skeptical smile tugging at her lips. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

Sebastian chuckled, holding his hands up in gesture of surrender. “Guilty. But to be fair, you make everything sound fascinating. It’s distracting.” He gave her a half-smile, hoping to deflect the fact that he’d been more interested in watching her than in the ingredients list.

She rolled her eyes, clearly not buying his excuse, but her smile softened. “Fine. Silverthorn it is. It grows in high altitudes, which means we’ll have to go beyond the school grounds to find any. Though,” she added with a slightly mischievous gleam in her eye, “I’m sure Professor Sharp would just love that.”

Sebastian’s grin widened at her tone and he leaned in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “It’s not like we haven’t handled worse before.”

“True,” she replied, arching a brow. “Though Ominis would probably remind us that we’re supposed to be laying low this year.” She paused, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the parchment. “You remember what he said about the professors being stricter with us after… well, everything that happened.”

Sebastian felt a flicker of tension between them, a reminder of the events of last year, of all they’d both endured. For a moment, the memory cast a shadow over their shared excitement. He could feel the weight of his actions, the choices he’d made—choices that had affected her, too.

“Look,” he said, his tone softening, “I get it if you’re having second thoughts. You don’t have to—”

“No,” she interrupted, her gaze steady. “I want to. I might go mad if they keep me locked up like this for much longer,” she finished, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. “I can’t just sit in the castle and read about rare ingredients or ancient magic like they’re just words on a page,” she continued, her voice laced with an urgency Sebastian hadn’t expected. “After everything we saw last year, everything we fought through… being stuck here feels like trying to keep a dragon in a cage.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at her determination, the fierce spark in her eyes. It was one of the things he’d always admired about her—she was never content to stay on the sidelines. He’d seen her take on impossible odds before, face dangers even he had second thoughts about, and now that same courage was simmering just below the surface, ready to break free.

“Well,” he replied, letting his voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper, “who am I to deny you a little adventure? Silverthorn won’t find itself, and if it’s out there… then so are we.”

Her lips quirked into a grin, the tension between them softening, and Sebastian felt a surge of relief. For a moment, it felt like they were back to those exhilarating days last year, chasing leads through the Highlands, one step ahead of danger—and sometimes, one step behind it.

“We should probably get started in the library,” she said, practical as ever, though her excitement was unmistakable. “I don’t want to rely on rumors. If we’re going to do this, we need to be sure where we’re going, what we’re looking for. Maps, herbology texts—anything on Silverthorn.”

Sebastian nodded, matching her eagerness. “You’re right. Plus, if we’re pulling off a proper search, we’ll need to keep it quiet. I’m sure you know Ominis would faint if he found out.”

Evangeline laughed, covering her mouth, and he felt a rush of warmth at the sound, realizing just how long it had been since he’d heard her laugh without reservation.

“Then it’s settled,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Tonight. We’ll meet at the library after hours.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, mirroring her expression. “Oh, are we sneaking in, then?”

“Would you expect anything less?” she shot back, her smirk returning.

The castle was cloaked in silence by the time Sebastian reached their usual meeting spot outside the library, tucked just beyond the reach of torchlight and away from the watchful eyes of patrolling prefects. He scanned the corridor, his heart thumping a little harder than usual as he listened for footsteps. The thrill of sneaking out, of meeting her after hours, reminded him of the late-night adventures they'd shared last year, and he couldn’t deny the sense of familiarity—of excitement—stirring within him.

A soft shuffling alerted him, and he turned just as Evangeline stepped out of the shadows, her wand tucked close to her side, her face illuminated by a dim Lumos. She wore a small, confident smile, and Sebastian couldn’t help but mirror it. Her hair was slightly mussed from the brisk walk through the castle, and she had her arms wrapped around a few thick volumes, no doubt taken from the Gryffindor common room.

“Early, for once,” Sebastian whispered, grinning as he joined her.

“Someone has to keep us on schedule,” she teased back, her voice barely above a murmur. “And I wasn’t about to risk you getting lost on the way.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Me? Lost? I’d like to remind you who joined you on your very first after-hours excursion."

Evangeline laughed quietly, brushing him off with a playful wave. “Fine, you’re better than most. Now, are you ready?”

Sebastian nodded, feeling his pulse quicken. This felt exhilarating—like they were slipping back into the old rhythm they’d shared, where late-night escapades were almost routine.

With a quick glance around, she took his hand and guided him toward the library door, which she quietly eased open. They slipped inside, the vast, dark expanse of the library stretching before them. Shadows filled every corner, and the only light came from the faint glow of the stars visible through the enchanted ceiling above.

“Alright,” she whispered, letting go of his hand as they walked further in. “We’ll need to start with the Herbology section for any specific details on Silverthorn. And then maybe cross-reference with some geography texts for potential locations.”

“Sounds like you’ve already got a plan,” he whispered back, impressed by her foresight.

“Of course,” she replied with a grin. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

They moved quickly but quietly through the towering shelves, stopping occasionally to listen for any signs of approaching footsteps. Sebastian kept a watchful eye on the door as Evangeline began scanning the Herbology shelves, her fingers trailing lightly along the spines of the old books. After a moment, she pulled out an especially large, faded tome titled Rare Flora of the Wizarding World and opened it carefully on the nearest table, the pages crackling as she leafed through.

“Here,” she whispered excitedly, pointing to an entry on Silverthorn. “It says Silverthorn has unique properties that allow it to enhance mental clarity, but only when harvested at the right time—something about high-altitude exposure and moon cycles.”

Sebastian leaned over her shoulder to read, his face close to hers as he scanned the text. “And it says it grows most often in the mountains beyond the Highlands. So we’d have to go… farther than I thought.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, her voice tinged with both excitement and hesitation.

They both fell silent, absorbed in the description of the herb and its history. The text went on to detail Silverthorn’s use by ancient potion masters, its potency, and the dangers of harvesting it—mentioning a strange phenomenon that caused it to emit a faint, silvery mist when disturbed, known to attract magical creatures who guarded the plant.

“Of course,” Sebastian whispered, rolling his eyes. “Everything rare and valuable has to come with a warning.”

Evangeline chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and determination. “Would it really be an adventure if it didn’t?”

Their laughter died quickly as they heard soft, echoing steps approaching: Scribner, the strict, no-nonsense librarian, whose sharp hearing and even sharper tongue were legendary among students. Her footsteps were precise and unhurried, and they drew closer with every second, echoing ominously in the silence of the library.

Sebastian shot Evangeline a panicked glance, mouthing, We need to hide.

Without hesitation, she nodded, grabbing his arm as they slipped around one of the tall, shadowed shelves. The dark corner offered some cover, but they had to move quickly and stay silent, the narrow space barely fitting them both.

Not that Sebastian minded.

He quite liked being pressed up against Evie's form, though she wasn't quite as soft as she'd been the previous year (something Sebastian intended on remedying, though he didn't plan on telling her that). Still, there was something thrilling in the closeness, in the way her shoulder brushed against his, the scent of her filling the air between them. Her hand still lingered on his arm, as if to steady them both, and he could feel her breath, shallow and quick, just inches away.

He mentally shook himself, pushing down the distraction. Now wasn’t exactly the time to be noticing those things, not with Madame Scribner drawing nearer by the second.

She looked up, locking eyes with him in the dim light, and he saw that same spark of exhilaration there, that same thrill of adventure they’d shared so often before. He couldn’t help but smile, his pulse quickening as he leaned just a fraction closer. Whatever happened last year, he thought, some things hadn’t changed.

She raised a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet as they listened, each heartbeat in sync as they heard Scribner’s footsteps pause near the table where they’d left the incriminating text.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps receded, Scribner moving on without discovering them. They stayed still for a beat longer, both of them holding their breath until the silence confirmed they were alone once more.

Evangeline exhaled, her shoulders relaxing as she looked back up at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Close call,” she whispered, her eyes still glinting with that mischievous spark.

Sebastian let out a quiet chuckle, his own grin lingering as he relaxed against the bookshelf. “You always did have a knack for nearly getting us caught.”

“Me?” she replied, raising an eyebrow in mock offense. “Pretty sure Scribner heard your voice carrying through half the library.”

“Ah, so it’s my fault?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with a playful edge.

She tilted her head, her gaze meeting his in the dim light. “I suppose it’s both our faults,” she conceded, her smile softening as she looked at him.

They returned to the table, moving carefully and silently. Sebastian reached for the book they’d left open, quickly stashing it in his cloak while Evangeline scanned the other titles nearby. She slipped a few more volumes under her arm, each bound in faded leather with titles that hinted at obscure herbology and magical botany.

“Alright,” she whispered, nodding to Sebastian. “Let’s get out of here before Scribner comes back.”

With a shared glance, they cast Disillusionment Charms over themselves. The dim light around them seemed to blur and shift, cloaking them in translucent shadows. Together, they crept out of the library, moving quietly down the corridors until they reached the statue concealing the Undercroft entrance.

Once inside, they let their charms drop, the cool, secret air of the Undercroft welcoming them. But as the shimmering remnants of the Disillusionment Charm faded, they spotted a familiar figure standing by the far wall, arms crossed and expression decidedly unimpressed.

Ominis.

Sebastian felt a pang of guilt even before Ominis spoke, knowing full well that his friend wouldn’t be thrilled about this little venture. But he kept his face neutral, shooting Evangeline a quick, sheepish glance.

“Decided to have a late-night rendezvous, did you?” Ominis’s voice was calm, though laced with an edge that made Sebastian shift uneasily. “And from the smell of it, you’ve brought half the library with you.”

Evangeline looked down at the stack of books in her arms, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “We thought we’d do some research. On… well, Silverthorn.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his milky eyes narrowing as he turned slightly in their direction. “Silverthorn,” he echoed, his tone skeptical. “The rare, dangerous plant that’s nearly impossible to find in the wild?”

Evangeline winced, "...maybe?"

Ominis let out a sigh that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “You two can’t help yourselves, can you?”

Sebastian shot him a grin, clearly unfazed. “What can we say? We’re ambitious.”

Ominis crossed his arms, his expression unimpressed. “Ambitious, reckless… they’re the same thing where you two are concerned.”

Evangeline shifted, looking between the two of them, her blush deepening. “We really are just researching,” she insisted, though her tone lacked conviction. “I mean… probably.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his skeptical gaze fixed in their direction. “Probably?”

Sebastian smirked, giving a nonchalant shrug. “The Highlands are calling us, Ominis, and you know how I hate to disappoint, provided we're prepared.”

Ominis’s expression softened, though his tone remained weary. “Sebastian, ‘prepared’ isn’t the word I’d use here. If this plant really is as elusive as they say, I highly doubt it’ll be a simple stroll through the fields to collect it.”

Evangeline’s face lit up with a familiar, determined glint. “That’s why we’re doing the research—to minimize the risk.”

Ominis sighed, shaking his head with the hint of a reluctant smile. “Just… don’t get yourselves cursed, injured, or otherwise incapacitated. And for Merlin’s sake, if you’re planning to go traipsing through dangerous territory, can you at least let me know next time?”

Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “You’re the best, Ominis.”

Ominis grumbled, though there was warmth in his expression. “Remember that next time I try to talk you out of something.”

Evangeline spread the books out on the table, her quill poised and ready as she exchanged an excited glance with Sebastian. She could feel her pulse quicken, an almost childlike thrill bubbling up at the thought of what lay ahead. The idea of a real search, a journey out into the unknown, had her grinning despite the risks.

Ominis sighed as he reluctantly pulled one of the books toward him, adjusting his fingertips to skim over the pages. “If I can’t talk you out of this,” he muttered, “then I’ll at least ensure you don’t get yourselves killed.”

Sebastian chuckled. “That’s the spirit, Ominis."

Ominis rolled his eyes. “If I had an ounce of sense, I’d report this entire venture to Sharp and save myself the headache. But you two seem determined to make my life difficult.”

Evangeline offered him a teasing smile. “You love it, really.”

“Highly debatable,” he replied, though his lips quirked into a slight smile. “Now, where should we start?”

Sebastian leaned forward, tapping a page on Silverthorn. “Apparently, this plant tends to grow at high-altitudes—places where magic lingers strongest, especially near old wizarding sites.”

Evangeline jotted down a few notes, eyes focused. “That explains why it’s so rare. There aren’t many places like that nearby.” She flipped to another page, scanning the information. “And this… it says the silvery mist it emits draws in magical creatures. If we’re not careful, we’ll end up dealing with protective creatures as much as the plant itself.”

Ominis made a faint noise of disapproval. “Sounds charming."

Sebastian grinned, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, Evie—tell him we’ve got it handled.”

Evangeline shot him a bemused look while Ominis sighed again, shaking his head. “You’re awfully confident for someone who narrowly escaped that doxy swarm last year.”

Sebastian’s expression softened, his gaze moving from Ominis to Evangeline, his voice dropping just slightly. “Honestly? I think we could both use the adventure. Things haven’t exactly been easy since… well, since last year.”

Ominis’s face softened as well, his fingers pausing on the page he’d been reading. He didn’t say anything, but a look passed between them that seemed to convey his understanding.

After a beat, he nodded, though a faint smile hinted at his skepticism. “Yes well,” he said, resigned. “Just remember, this isn’t some escapade to impress each other.”

Evangeline stifled a laugh, glancing at Sebastian with a grin. “Hear that, Sallow? We’re going in for the knowledge, not the glory.”

Sebastian shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If glory just happens to come along with it, though…”

They spent the next hour sifting through books, making careful notes and tracing maps that marked out nearby high-altitude caves. Evangeline, ever focused, diligently wrote down everything Ominis suggested, while Sebastian’s enthusiasm seemed to grow with each new discovery.

Evangeline, however, began to blink slower, her quill slowing with each pass over the parchment until, finally, her hand stilled, and her head rested back against the worn cushion of the moth-eaten couch she'd moved to.

Sebastian glanced over, his smile softening as he realized she had fallen asleep. She looked peaceful, the faintest hint of a smile lingering on her lips as though she were dreaming something pleasant. He felt a small, unbidden pang of tenderness, something he quickly tried to push down.

Ominis, sensing the change in the atmosphere, looked over and noted her quiet, even breathing. With a faint smile, he waved his wand, casting a silencing charm around him and Sebastian, ensuring their conversation wouldn’t disturb her.

When he turned back, his expression had shifted, growing serious. “Sebastian,” he began, “I want you to be honest with me.”

Sebastian leaned back, knowing Ominis well enough to recognize when he was leading into something important. “About what?”

Ominis took a moment, his fingers tracing the spine of one of the ancient books before speaking. “What’s really driving you to do this? To go out there after everything that happened last year?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but there was a depth to his question that made Sebastian’s easy grin falter.

For a second, Sebastian’s gaze flicked to Evangeline, still fast asleep, her expression softened and free from worry. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I... it’s a chance for us to do something normal, something that… might help things feel like they used to,” he admitted. “After last year… I don’t know how else to fix things between us. She deserves a bit of excitement, don’t you think?”

Ominis listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When Sebastian fell quiet, he replied, “You do realize that putting her in danger again isn’t exactly how most people repay a debt, right?”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. “She insisted on this all on her own, Ominis,” He looked back at her, his expression softening.

Ominis sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I understand, but this isn’t just a study session—it’s dangerous. You know as well as I do that Silverthorn isn’t some harmless herb.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, the weight of Ominis’s words sinking in. “I get that. But she needs this—she needs to feel… alive again. And maybe I do, too.” Sebastian paused, his gaze falling to the floor as he gathered his thoughts. “You must’ve noticed it, Ominis,” he said quietly. “The way she’s been looking lately… she isn’t herself. She barely eats, she looks like she hardly sleeps."

Ominis pressed his lips together, his frown deepening. “Of course I’ve noticed." He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the book in his lap. “But if anything were to happen—if either of you got hurt again…” His words trailed off, a look of resignation crossing his face as he met Sebastian’s eyes.

Sebastian held his gaze, determined. “I know it’s risky, Ominis, but so was everything we did last year, and she pulled through every time.” He glanced at Evangeline again, his expression softening. “Maybe she needs to feel like she’s more than just someone professors need to ‘watch over.’ Like she’s still the Evangeline we both know—strong, capable, brave.”

Ominis sighed, the tension in his face relaxing slightly, though his worry remained. “Fine,” he murmured after a long pause, though he didn’t sound happy about it. “Just… She’s already chosen to be here with you.” He paused, his voice softening, his tone less admonishing than before. “You better keep her safe this time.”

The Undercroft was still and silent as dawn crept through the cracks in the stone, casting thin lines of pale light across the ancient floor. Sebastian woke with a start, his head resting awkwardly on his arms folded over an open book, his neck sore from a night spent hunched over. He blinked, disoriented, as he took in his surroundings—the scattered texts, the parchment filled with notes, and, across the room, Ominis, still fast asleep on one of the worn couches.

He groaned, stretching out the stiffness in his back, when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Evangeline’s voice held a playful lilt, and when he looked up, she was standing in front of him, arms laden with a tray of food and a couple of toothbrushes balanced on top. She had an amused smile on her face, her eyes bright despite the early hour.

Sebastian rubbed his eyes, a sheepish grin slipping onto his face. “Brought breakfast, did you?”

“And toothbrushes,” she replied, lifting one of them pointedly. “No offense, but I refuse to set off on an adventure with your morning breath.”

He laughed, the sound coming out a little hoarse from sleep. “Well, lucky me then.” He smiled, stretching his legs before he stood and glanced over at Ominis. “Should we wake him?”

Evangeline shook her head, setting the tray down on the table between them. “Let him sleep a little longer. We’ve got some time to eat, freshen up, and go over our notes before we actually set off.” She handed him a plate filled with toast, eggs, and a small pile of fruit, her practical nature shining through even in the most chaotic of plans.

“You’ve really thought of everything,” he mumbled between bites of apple, raising an eyebrow. For a moment, he let himself simply watch her, feeling a deep appreciation—and something else, something more complicated—welling up within him.

She shrugged, giving him a wry smile. "If we’re going to pull this off, I want to be ready. For all of us.”

He picked up a piece of toast and gave her a small, teasing grin. “So, what’s our strategy then, Captain?” he asked, gesturing to the neat pile of notes she’d arranged with military precision.

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered as she sat down across from him, unfurling a map she’d carefully marked up. “If we’re going to find Silverthorn, we need to start here.” She tapped a spot on the map, a small cluster of caves nestled in the Highlands.

Sebastian leaned in, studying the map closely, their heads nearly touching. “It’s a bit of a trek, but we can get there within the day if we start early.” He traced his finger along the route she’d marked, nodding thoughtfully. “And if there’s any truth to that ‘silvery mist’ attracting magical creatures, I’d say we’re in for a bit of excitement.”

“Exactly,” she replied, the mischievous glint in her eyes matching his own. “Which is why I packed a few extra Wiggenwelds. Just in case.”

Ominis stirred on the couch, blinking blearily as he pushed himself up and took in the sight of Sebastian and Evangeline hunched over the map. “Don’t tell me you’re still planning this expedition,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Evangeline gave him a reassuring smile, nudging the tray of breakfast toward him. "Relax. I’ve gone over every detail—twice. And I’ve got a few extra Wiggenwelds packed for good measure.”

Ominis rolled his eyes, though he picked up a slice of toast with a resigned sigh. “I suppose there’s no stopping you two, then.”

“Not a chance,” Sebastian replied with a grin, his own excitement barely contained. He watched as Evangeline picked up a toothbrush and held it out to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Two full minutes,” she said firmly, handing him a small hourglass as well.

Sebastian took it with a laugh, brushing diligently under her watchful eye while Ominis looked on with a bemused smile. Once they were freshened up and their bags packed, Evangeline laid out a set of more practical clothes for her and Sebastian. He raised an eyebrow as he looked over the sturdy trousers, comfortable shirts, and cloaks that looked like they’d withstand a hike through rough terrain.

“Where did you even get all this?” he asked, pulling on the gear as he watched her shrug her cloak off her shoulders.

Evangeline shrugged with a sly smile. “Let’s just say I have my sources.”

Once they were dressed and ready, Ominis stood at the entrance to the Undercroft, arms crossed, a faint crease of worry between his brows as he looked them over. “Just… be careful,” he said, his voice filled with reluctant affection. “And send me an owl if you get into trouble.”

Sebastian barely heard him, still distracted from a few minutes ago, when Evangeline had disappeared behind the makeshift dressing area they’d set up in the corner. He’d tried to keep his mind focused on practical things—checking their supplies, adjusting his cloak—but the mere thought of her on the other side, changing into those sturdy trousers and the fitted shirt she’d selected, was enough to send his mind wandering. He’d found himself glancing at the curtain a little too often, trying to keep his thoughts in check. When she’d stepped out, Sebastian had almost forgotten to breathe.

Now, with Ominis’s words bringing him back to reality, Sebastian finally snapped out of it, giving their friend a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry, Ominis. I’ll look after her. No trouble, I promise.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, stepping up beside him. “I can look after myself, thank you very much.”

Ominis’s mouth quirked into a faint smile, though the concern lingered in his expression. “Yes, well... good luck."

She reached out, squeezing his shoulder with a comforting smile. “We’ve got it covered. I promise.”

With one last look at each of them, Ominis sighed, relenting. “If I hear about either of you showing up in the Hospital Wing, don’t expect me to visit.”

Sebastian laughed, clapping him on the back. “Deal.” He glanced at Evangeline, catching her quick grin, feeling a rush of excitement. They were ready—more than ready.

As they stepped out of the Undercroft and into the quiet, early-morning corridors of the castle, Sebastian couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on Evangeline. The fitted shirt hugged her figure in a way that highlighted the curves he’d always been aware of but tried, in some attempt at self-restraint, to ignore. But now, in the dim morning light, as they strode side by side, he couldn’t help but notice. The shirt stretched across her chest, accentuating her shape, while the trousers framed her hips in a way that made it increasingly difficult to look away.

He shook himself, pulling his focus back to the mission at hand—but his heart remained full, and his thoughts strayed back to how grateful he was for this, for her.

Outside, the air was crisp, the early morning mist lingering over the fields and casting a silvery haze over the castle grounds. The sun had begun its climb over the horizon, casting faint light through the trees as they moved toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the trail that would eventually lead them to the Highlands.

As they walked, Evangeline held the map open in front of her, her finger tracing the route they’d planned. Sebastian, meanwhile, was only half paying attention to the path. His focus kept drifting back to her—the way her hair glinted in the faint sunlight, her determined expression, and the casual ease with which she moved beside him. For the first time in ages, things felt… normal.

They moved on in silence for a while, the quiet between them comfortable and familiar. Eventually, Evangeline broke the silence, glancing over at him with a small smile. “You’re awfully quiet, Sallow."

“Just taking it all in,” he replied with a grin, not missing the glint of mischief in her eyes. “Can’t a guy appreciate the view?”

She rolled her eyes, though he noticed a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Appreciate the view all you want, as long as you’re ready to do your part in this. If Silverthorn really is out here, we’re going to need to keep our wits about us.”

Sebastian held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m completely committed. Whatever you need, Evie, I’m here.”

They made their way up a winding path that gradually led them higher, the landscape growing rockier as they reached the mountainous ridges of the Highlands. Every so often, Evangeline would pause, consulting the notes they’d taken or adjusting their direction slightly as they moved toward the caves marked on the map.

Hours passed as they trekked deeper, the morning sun rising higher and burning off the mist, casting warm light over the hills. They finally reached a rocky outcrop that overlooked a serene, hidden lake nestled between jagged cliffs. Evangeline’s eyes lit up with excitement as she looked around, taking in the setting.

“This is it,” she said, her voice laced with excitement. “If Silverthorn grows anywhere, it would be around here.”

Sebastian grinned, the thrill of discovery surging through him. “Only one way to find out.”

They began scouring the area, moving carefully through clusters of rocks and overgrown patches of wild plants. The lake glistened below, the stillness of the water broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird.

After a good stretch of combing the rocky shore with no sign of the elusive plant, Sebastian paused, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Nothing yet," he muttered, glancing around with a frown.

Evangeline’s brow creased as she scanned the ground near a patch of ferns. “It has to be somewhere around here. We have all the conditions—altitude, shade, proximity to water…”

Sebastian straightened, his gaze drifting toward a dark opening in the rock face a short distance away. He raised an eyebrow, nodding in its direction. “What about in there?” he suggested, a hint of challenge in his tone. “The notes did mention that Silverthorn sometimes grows in the cool, damp air of caves.”

Evangeline looked up, following his gaze. The cave entrance loomed like a shadowy mouth, the darkness inside a stark contrast to the sunlit landscape around them. She bit her lip thoughtfully, then nodded. “Worth a shot."

They exchanged a grin, then made their way to the entrance, pulling their wands to illuminate the dim interior as they stepped inside. The air grew noticeably colder, and the echoes of their footsteps bounced off the stone walls, filling the quiet space with a soft, rhythmic sound.

They moved slowly, their eyes adjusting to the dim light, scanning the walls and floor of the cave for any glint of silver mist or greenish leaves. A few rays of sunlight filtered through cracks in the stone ceiling above, casting slivers of light that danced over patches of moss and clusters of small, fragile mushrooms. It was eerily beautiful, and for a moment, both of them fell silent, captivated by the strange beauty of the cave.

After a few minutes of careful searching, Sebastian’s voice broke the silence. “I don’t see anything yet, but… it feels like we’re close.” He ran his hand along the damp wall, feeling the cool, rough surface beneath his fingertips.

Evangeline nodded, her gaze sharp and focused as she examined a shadowy corner where the walls curved inward. “Agreed,” she murmured, lowering herself to her knees to get a closer look. “It’s the perfect habitat.”

Just as she reached toward a small cluster of plants nestled in the corner, a faint silvery mist began to rise from the shadows. It was subtle at first, like a thin veil of fog creeping over the ground, but it quickly grew thicker, swirling around them in delicate tendrils.

Sebastian crouched beside her, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the mist. “Is that…?” he began, but his voice trailed off as he watched the mist intensify, spreading outward in curling wisps that seemed to pulse with a faint, silvery light.

Evangeline nodded, excitement and caution mingling in her expression. “I think we found it. That’s definitely Silverthorn mist.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a small vial and a pair of gloves. “We just need to get a sample without disturbing it too much.”

She reached forward slowly, her gloved fingers barely brushing the leaves of the plant. But as soon as she touched it, the mist thickened, rising around them like a fog and swirling in all directions.

Sebastian’s heart leapt as the ground beneath them seemed to shift. “Evie… I think we might have set something off.”

She looked up, her eyes wide with alarm as the mist continued to swirl, filling the cave with an unnatural, shimmering glow. Before they could react, a soft rumbling sound echoed through the cavern, and the ground trembled beneath their feet.

Evangeline gasped, stumbling as she tried to regain her balance. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” she muttered, glancing around, her expression tense.

Just as they were about to move, the cave floor gave a sudden, violent jolt, and the entrance—along with the light from outside—vanished as a slab of rock slid down, sealing them inside.

Sebastian froze, his eyes adjusting to the now pitch-black surroundings as the sound of the slab sealing their only exit echoed through the cave, leaving them in an unsettling, dense silence. He lit his wand, casting a faint glow around them, but the knowledge that they were now entirely enclosed weighed heavily in the air.

“Alright, no need to panic,” he began, keeping his tone light, though he felt a knot of tension in his own stomach. “We’ve been in worse scrapes. Let’s just take a look around and—”

But as he turned to Evangeline, his words trailed off. Her face was pale, hazel eyes wide as she backed up against the damp stone wall, her breaths coming quicker, shallow and uneven. He watched her gaze dart around the confined space, her hands clenching and unclenching as she tried to steady herself, but it was clear that panic was beginning to take hold.

“Evie?” he asked gently, stepping closer, keeping his voice low and calm. “Are you alright?”

She tried to nod, but her breathing was too fast, and a tremor went through her as she leaned against the wall. “I… I’m fine,” she managed, though her voice sounded strained, each word clipped. “I just… I need a minute.”

Sebastian moved carefully, not wanting to crowd her but also unwilling to leave her side. “It’s okay,” he murmured, watching her face as she struggled to calm herself. “It’s just a bit of mist and a stubborn boulder.”

But she barely seemed to hear him, her gaze fixed on the cave walls. Her hands came up to press against her temples, and she whispered, almost as if to herself, “It’s too… small. I can’t… breathe.”

The realization hit him. She was claustrophobic. He’d never known—not once in all their escapades together had he ever noticed this fear. But now, seeing her in this state, he felt a pang of guilt for suggesting they check the cave in the first place.

“Hey, hey,” he said, a note of warmth and reassurance filling his voice as he stepped closer, his hand resting gently on her arm. “Look at me. We’re okay."

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. “Sebastian, I… I don’t do well in… in places like this.” Her voice trembled, and she took a shaky breath, fighting to keep her composure.

He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently, feeling the coolness of her fingers as she clung to him. “We’ve faced worse than a stubborn rock, haven’t we?” he said with a small, encouraging smile.

She huffed a laugh, "I'm not so sure about that."

Indeed, the space they found themselves in was tiny, and the walls felt far too close for comfort. The ceiling seemed to press down on them, low enough that Sebastian had to stoop to avoid hitting his head.

He shifted slightly, positioning himself in front of her, creating just a bit more space between her and the nearest wall. “You know,” he said softly, his tone light, “if this is the worst spot we’ve been in, I’d say we’re doing pretty well.”

Evangeline let out another faint laugh, though her grip on his hand tightened. “Well, if we’re going to be trapped, I suppose I’m glad it’s with you,” she murmured, though her eyes still darted nervously around the confined space.

Sebastian’s heart gave a slight jolt at her words, but he pushed it down, focusing on keeping her calm. "You’ll be laughing about this in no time.” He let his fingers brush her knuckles, hoping it might reassure her.

Sebastian adjusted his wand, increasing the light from his wand. He scanned their surroundings, eyes narrowed in concentration as he took in every detail of the rocky walls, searching for any sign of an opening or a loose stone.

“Alright,” he murmured, stepping carefully, one hand extended to steady himself against the wall. He moved his wand slowly, the light flickering over uneven stone and shadows that loomed like dark, silent spectators. “If there’s a way in, there’s a way out."

His gaze fell to a section of rock near the ground, where the floor met the wall, and he crouched down to examine it. Gently, he pressed against it, but the stone didn’t budge.

Undeterred, he moved to the other side of the cave, his focus intense, lips pressed together in thought. He ran his hand along the surface, feeling for cracks or seams that might reveal an exit. “If we could just shift this wall a little, or maybe use Depulso to break through—”

“That could collapse everything in here,” Evangeline pointed out, her voice steady but still laced with worry.

Sebastian looked back at her, nodding. “Right. Not ideal.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he considered their options.

He met her gaze, his determination unwavering. “Listen, we’re going to get out of here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

"...What if we don't get out and no one ever finds us?" Evie's voice sounded small.

Sebastian’s heart twisted at the tremor in her voice, her usual resilience dimmed by the weight of her fear. He turned to her, his hand moving instinctively to her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, don’t think like that,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “We’ll get out of here. I promise you that.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, the fear unmistakable. “But… what if we don’t? What if no one even knows where to look?”

"Ominis knows where we are," Sebastian replied without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. "And I’ve gotten us out of worse situations before, haven’t I?”

She blinked, a tear slipping down her cheek despite her best efforts to hold it back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I… I don’t know why I’m like this. I can’t… I can��t breathe.”

Sebastian watched, helpless, as Evangeline’s composure continued to unravel. Despite her best efforts to steady her breathing, he could see the fear deepening in her eyes, could feel her grip on his hand tighten to the point of pain.

“Evie…” he began, but his voice trailed off, words failing him in the face of her distress. He had spent so much time since last year keeping a careful distance, afraid to be too close, to overstep boundaries in the wake of everything they’d gone through together. But now, seeing her like this, all of his restraint shattered.

Without another thought, he closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She stiffened for a moment, caught off-guard, but then she sank into him, her face pressing against his shoulder as he held her tightly.

“You’re safe,” he murmured softly, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not now, not ever.”

He felt her shudder slightly against him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if grounding herself. Her breaths were shallow, unsteady, but gradually, the rhythm of his hand on her back and the steadiness of his presence seemed to ease the worst of her fear.

“Sebastian… I just—” she choked, unable to finish, the panic still lingering at the edges of her voice.

“I know,” he replied gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I wouldn’t have suggested the cave if I’d known. I’m so sorry, Evie.”

She shook her head against his shoulder. “It’s not your fault… it’s just… everything feels so small in here.”

Sebastian held her a moment longer, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on her back, before pulling back just enough to look at her. “Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested softly. “Take a minute to catch your breath. I’ll look around some more, see if there’s anything we missed.”

Evangeline nodded, wiping her eyes quickly as she sank down against the cool, rough stone wall. He could still see the tension in her posture, but her breathing had evened out, her eyes watching him with a flicker of gratitude.

Sebastian offered her a reassuring smile as he returned to his search, crouching down to peer along the edges of the walls. “You know,” he said after a beat, injecting his voice with a hint of exasperation, “times like this, I can’t help but think how nice it would be if we’d learned how to Apparate already.”

Evangeline let out a faint chuckle, the sound a little unsteady but genuine. “Imagine the chaos, though. Garreth would be missing all his limbs."

Sebastian grinned, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Good point."

He paused, giving the wall a frustrated tap with his wand. “Still, it’d save us a bit of trouble right about now.”

She rolled her eyes, a hint of warmth returning to her expression. “And here I thought you loved a good challenge.”

He scoffed, feigning offense. “I do—but I also like knowing I have a way out.” His tone was light, but he couldn’t deny that part of him was getting nervous too. Still, the last thing he wanted was for her to see his own worries; keeping her calm was all that mattered.

Returning to the search, he continued running his hands along the uneven stone, every so often glancing back at her to make sure she was alright.

“It's too bad,” he added, trying to keep the conversation going to distract them both, "Not a single person warned us against going on this little escapade."

"Yes," Evie agreed shakily, "Why didn't Sharp or Ominis warn us very explicitly not to go searching for rare ingredients?"

Sebastian chuckled, giving her a wry smile as he ran his hand over another section of the wall, half expecting a miracle escape to reveal itself. "I think they both thought common sense might keep us safe."

"Well," she said, her voice finally steadying a little, "that was their first mistake."

He couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing in the small space. He glanced back at her, noticing the faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. The fear was still there, but he could see her easing, at least a little. She watched him closely, her gaze softer, calmer.

“Honestly, I think Ominis would secretly enjoy knowing we’re both getting a lecture-worthy comeuppance.” She leaned back against the wall, exhaling.

"The good news is," Sebastian replied as he moved to the opposite wall, "He doesn't need to know this happened."

As Sebastian continued his search, his fingers brushed over a slight indentation in the wall, just above a stack of loose stones that seemed out of place. He paused, examining the area more closely. There, hidden beneath a small pile of rubble, he spotted a narrow opening—a faint sliver of space where the rocks had shifted slightly, leaving a gap just wide enough for them to fit through.

“Evie,” he whispered, excitement bubbling up in his voice. “Come look at this.”

She pushed off the wall and joined him, peering down at the narrow gap he’d uncovered. Her eyes widened, a flicker of hope breaking through her remaining anxiety. “Is that…?”

“It’s something,” Sebastian confirmed, grinning. “It looks like we can squeeze through if we clear some of this debris.”

Evangeline nodded, visibly relieved, and together they began to shift the loose rocks, careful not to dislodge anything that might cause the opening to collapse. Each stone they moved revealed a little more space, and with every bit of progress, Sebastian could feel the tension lifting, replaced by the thrill of escape.

After a few minutes of work, the gap was wide enough for them to slip through. Sebastian gave her a reassuring nod, gesturing toward the opening. “You first.”

She hesitated, but he gave her an encouraging smile, holding out a hand to help her steady herself. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”

With one last glance at him, Evangeline took a deep breath and ducked through the narrow passage, her shoulders brushing the rocks as she squeezed into the open space beyond. Once she was through, Sebastian followed, maneuvering carefully to avoid disturbing the fragile pile of rocks they’d left behind.

As they emerged into a slightly larger, dimly lit section of the cave, they shared a look of triumph, both of them grinning as they took in their surroundings. Sebastian illuminated the way forward, and they could see another opening in the rock further down the passage, leading back outside.

He exhaled, feeling the rush of freedom as he looked over at her. “See? Told you we’d find a way out.”

Without a word, Evangeline turned to him, her relief evident in her wide eyes and the unrestrained grin spreading across her face. Before he had a chance to say anything more, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug so fierce and full of gratitude that he staggered slightly. Without thinking, he lifted her just enough to keep his balance, holding her close as he felt her breath catch in a quiet laugh against his shoulder.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of relief and something softer, something deeper. “I don’t know what I’d have done if—”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, letting his hands settle at her back, feeling the warmth of her through the layers of their cloaks. “You don’t need to thank me. I'd never let anything happen to you, Evie.”

She held him for a beat longer, and he could feel her heartbeat gradually slowing, her shoulders relaxing as the last traces of fear melted away. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of her in his arms, the familiar scent of her hair, and the faint warmth that filled his chest at her closeness.

As she finally eased back, her face still close to his, Sebastian let her slip back down to her feet but kept his hands on her shoulders, reluctant to let the moment end too soon. She looked up at him, a quiet smile lingering in her gaze, and for a moment, words weren’t needed.

“Come on,” he said softly, tilting his head toward the exit, though his voice held a hint of something he wasn’t ready to put into words just yet. “Let’s get out of here. I think we’ve earned some fresh air.”

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

[lilacella]

James is in the softball team and Sirius is the head of the schools math club. When James is forced to join the club to fix her grades she finds more than her lost interest in mathematics...

Non-magical high school au, fem!James Potter, fem!Sirius Black

1+1 <3

James was jogging down from the field, high fiving her teammates after a successful game. Since James had joined the softball team three years ago their school had had a winning streak and there could be no doubt that this was causation not correlation.

She grabbed her water bottle from the bench and chugged it, then emptied the last couple drops on her sweaty head, shaking out her short wet hair. She took a hopeful look around but the girl she had been putting on this show for didn't seem to be watching. Lily Evans. A beautiful red head with green eyes and freckles all over her face. James had had a crush on her since year 7, but Lily seemed disappointingly straight. Or simply not interested, but James could hardly imagine that. She was usually quite successful with girl. Just not with this particular one she wanted more than anyone else. She shrugged dissapointedly and followed the others into the locker room, where their coach was already waiting. The coach clapped her hands loudly to gain everyones attention.

"Alright girls! Good Game! Natalie that last shot was great! You all did amazing, keep it up! Now get changed and then we'll get pizza for everyone!"

The announcement was met with cheers.

"One second, James! I need to talk to you, come over."

James followed the coach into a side room, fully expecting to be praised for her softball performance. But coach Ruth seemed otherwise inclined.

"Mr. Bracknell talked to me."

Her math teacher.

"He said your grades have been dropping since you joined the team."

James shrugged.

"I guess. I'm just busy..."

"Exactly his point I'm afraid. James, we both know that you are an asset for the team but Mr. Bracknell - and the headmaster I'm afraid - think that you are sacraficing your grades for this."

"Well, so what? That's none of their business."

Coach Ruth shook her head.

"Bracknell said that if you don't fix your math grade at least back to a B, he'll let the headmaster take you off the team."

"What?! He can't do that!" James protested. How dare they! Softball was her life!

"You have to understand, they just don't want you to mess up your A levels. Please just talk to Mr. Bracknell. I'm sure you'll find a solution."

James' fists were clenched tightly with frustration.

"So if I am currently a D student, how am I supposed to get to a B in just three months?"

Mr. Bracknell adjusted his glasses.

"Well, I agree that this could be challenging. But you are a bright student, James. You used to get straight As, I'm sure you'll..."

"No," James interrupted him, boiling with anger. "I did the math last night! Even if I got As for every assignment and test from now on, including the final exam I would only get to a C!"

Mr. Bracknells mouth twitched.

"I'm glad you haven't lost your calculation skills. Then let me make you an offer. Do you know the math club?"

James nodded. Of course she knew the math club. The only school club that had won more trophies for the school in the last year than the softball team. She didn't care much about these boring nerds though.

"Sure, what about it?" she asked, already fearing to know the answer.

"You will join them. I am sure you will be just as helpful to them, as you are to your softball team."

James cringed.

"Do I have to?"

"If you want to play softball next year, yes. You did the math, didn't you?"

James groaned in annoyance.

"Fine."

"Great. I'll let Miss Black know you'll be joining. They meet every Tuesday at 6pm in this classroom. Don't be late. She doesn't like that."

"And who are you?" The tall slender girl with the silkiest black hair James had ever seen stood before her, staring her down with piercing grey eyes surrounded by long, perfectly curved lashes. She was breathtaking. At least James couldn't breathe. God, she was so hot. Okay, maybe this was going to be more fun than she had thought. She stretched out her hand, mustering her most charming smile.

"Hi, I'm James. And you are?"

The girl stared her down with a disparaging glare and shook her hand with obvious disinterest.

"I am Sirius. The leader of this club. Didn't you at least look at the pamphlet before you got here?"

"Uh, no sorry. Easy mistake to make though. You are way to pretty to be in the math club." Smooth.

Sirius seemed to think otherwise and pulled a disgusted face.

"Oh, you're one of those people. Look, I only tolerate you here because Bracknell left me no choice. We really don't have the time to deal with the grade issues of a jock, so just sit in the back and don't get in the way." She waved James off with a slender hand and stepped to the front of the classroom, her skirt bouncing around her perfectly proportioned legs.

Oh. She was a cunt. James had a weak spot for that.

**

The evening sun shone brightly trough the classroom windows, inviting, teasing everyone stuck inside on such a lovely day. And usually James would have been teased greatly. But currently her mind was otherwise occupied.

The math club was preparing for the yearly "Prime Days", a prestigious math competition that gave away high scholarships for the winning team. James didn't need a scholarship, her parents had enough money and nothing to spend it on besides their only daughter and she knew that the Blacks were filthy rich. Still, Sirius seemed determined to win for some reason and had acquired the questions of the last few years so they could practice. Each of them was supposed to answer all the questions today and hand in their answers so Sirius could assess their personal weaknesses. But James mind wasn't filled with greek symbols and numbers. Her eyes were fixated on milky white legs, elegantly crossed, peaking out of Sirius' skirt.

Sirius was answering the questions herself, although, after 3 weeks in the club, James was sure she didn't have any weaknesses to assess. At least not mathematical ones. Sirius was absolutely brilliant. James had always been somewhat of a "math wiz" herself. She had never struggled to keep up with the material, usually rather prone to get bored and subsequently distracted. But Sirius was on a different level. Or maybe James had just gotten off track for too long and needed to catch up...

How was she supposed to do that though, when Sirius was sitting in front of her, hair in a high ponytail, eyes narrowed on her answer sheet, flipping her pen between her fingers in between frantic scribbeling, looking unbearably sexy.

I bet she knows all the answers, James thought and, as if she had heard her, Sirius raised her head and then an eyebrow, her mouth twitching almost unnoticably.

James quickly ducked and tried her best to focus on her own sheet. But the image of Sirius face stayed etched into her retinas.

"Hey Math-Queen. I've got an equation you could solve. In my pants!" Rodney laughed as if he'd made the funniest joke ever. Sirius rolled her eyes and walked past him but he reached out and slapped her ass.

"Hey! At least look at me, slut!"

James dropped her backpack, ready to run over and give this guy a good talking to, with her fists, but Sirius was faster.

With a quick motion she pulled out a thick algebra book from under her arm and slapped it across Rodneys face. The deep thumping sound gave James the impression that Sirius was a lot stronger than she looked. Rodney stumbled backwards clutching his broken nose.

"You crazy bitch! You broke my nose!"

"I certainly hope so," Sirius replied unbothered and tucked the book back under her arm. She turned to James in confusion who had just come to an abrupt halt beside her, after running to her aid.

"I thought you might need backup," James panted and ruffled her hair. Sirius raised an eyebrow. One of these days it would get stuck there.

"I can defend myself, but thank you."

She turned to continue her path but beckoned James to walk with her. "It is good that we meet I wanted to talk to you anyways."

James looked surprised and quickly stopped to pick up her backpack.

"Oh yeah? What about?"

"I looked at your test result."

James rubbed her neck nervously. She didn't want to seem stupid in front of a hot girl.

"That bad?"

"Quite the contrary, they are excellent. I thought you were dense but it appears that I was wrong. 95% and that eventhough you didn't seem very...focused." She shot James a look that made her cheeks flush.

"Oh, well, glad to hear that. Yeah...I actually used to be pretty good at math. Who knows, maybe you'll be glad you have me after all." James smirked. Sirius rolled her pretty eyes but smiled. Yes!

"I suppose you might. But Bracknell told me you are a D student? How on earth did that happen?"

"Softball."

Sirius frowned.

"What? Did you get too many balls against your head or what?"

James laughed. Funny too. That girl was a whole meal.

"No, I guess I just prefer it to studying and homework."

"You prefer to run aimlessly across the lawn, get muddy and dusty and swing a piece off wood at a tennisball?"

"Ok, so it isn't a tennisball..."

Sirius waved her off.

"I don't care. I don't get what's supposed to be so great about it."

James grinned brightly.

"You should come to a game and find out."

**

When James stepped on the field, spinning her bat effortlessly around her hand and wrist she looked around, scanning the crowd of spectators. Finally she found who she was looking for.

Sirius Black, sitting a bit further back, a book on her knees, making a face as if she'd rather be anywhere else. But she came. James couldn't surpress a grin. She waved at her and Sirius barely lifted her hand to wave back. But she waved back. They'd better be winning today.

James had never gotten changed this quickly after a game. She tore off her jersey, hastily replacing it with an oversized shirt and swapped her gymshorts with regular denim shorts, basically jumped into her converse, tying them sloppily and ran out the locker room. She needed to catch Sirius. They had indeed won but to James big disappointment, Sirius had immediately vanished. If she wanted any chance to talk to her she'd have to hurry. And God, did she want to talk to her.

She stormed out the school and saw Sirius walking down the street. Her black ponytail bouncing at every step.

"Hey, wait!" James ran, to catch up to her. Her heavy sportsbag was slamming into her side and she almost fell over her shoelaces. Sirius stopped and turned, watching her with a mixture of judgement and fondness.

"Don't fall."

"Trying not to." James was once again, trying to catch her breath. "Why did you leave so early?"

Sirius started walking again.

"I can't be late. My parents will get pissed." Her pretty face was pulled into an angry frown. James had the faint impression that Sirius wasn't too fond of her parents.

"Mind if I walk with you?"

"Suit yourself."

They walked quietly for a moment before Sirius broke the silence.

"You played well. I get why they don't want to loose you. And...it seemed like you had a lot of fun." She looked over to James with something she would have read as longing if she didn't know better.

"I did have fun. Maybe you should try it out too sometimes."

Sirius snorted.

"Absolutely not. I hate running. And I can't throw."

"You can't?"

"You should see me in P.E. I almost dislocated my arm during athletics once."

"Really? I would have thought you are quite capable after what you did to Rodneys nose."

"I am. I am just...bad with balls."

She said the last part so pointedly that James heart started beating a little faster. Had this been on purpose? Or was she overinterpreting?

She had spend the last couple weeks trying to find out whether Sirius might be into girls, but had not come to a conclusion. As far as she had found out, Sirius had never been with a boy or a girl. Her nails were long but that didn't have to mean anything. And now this.

They crossed a couple streets, James directionlessly walking beside Sirius while they talked about the game and math and what on earth was going on with Patricia Mallocks dating choices recently. They agreed that she could do better. Finally, Sirius stopped in front of a friendly looking yellow house.

"This your house?" James asked.

"No," Sirius pointed down the street towards a dark townhouse. "But I can't let you walk me there. My parents...my parents are a bunch of racists and you are pakistani."

"Half," James corrected.

"Anyways, you are brown. And if they see me with you they will probably have a heart attack." She paused, thinking. "Actually maybe you should join us for dinner!"

James laughed hard.

"Oh no thanks. I don't want to get you into trouble. I'll just go."

"I get myself in trouble all on my own," Sirius replied and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Then she looked at James and gave her a weak smile. "Thanks for walking with me. Talking to you was...nice."

James heart skipped.

"Yeah, me too. I mean, I liked you too. I mean I liked talking to you!" She let out a nervous laugh. Sirius looked amused.

"We should do that more often. Maybe." Then she turned and walked towards the dismal looking building.

James grinned the whole way home until her cheeks hurt.

**

James was on her way home from weekend practice, taking a shortcut through the park when she saw a familiar face. Sirius was sitting on a parkbench, wearing a large denim jacket, a mini skirt and heavy boots. She looked completely different than she did in her school uniform, so James had to do a double take to check if it was really her. And she was smoking.

James got off her bike and approached the other girl.

"Having an underage smoke your majesty?"

Sirius looked up to her, seemingly unconcerned.

"You want a hit?"

"Sure." James plopped down on the bench next to her. She actually didn't smoke, bad for athletes. But the desire to put something between her lips that had just left Sirius' was too strong. She took the cigarette and inhaled deeply, immediately choking on the smoke. And there was something else...

"Is that weed?" she coughed. Sirius laughed.

"Are you surprised?"

James nodded, honestly. Sirius smirked and pulled on the joint entirely unbothered.

"Calms me down."

"You always seem calm to me."

"So it's working."

James rubbed her thighs.

"Nice outfit. Suits you."

"Thanks. Had to climb out the window. These shoes are difficult to hide in a bag."

James frowned.

"What?"

"My parents would never let me leave the house like this. Really they won't. One time I tried and mother pulled me back by my hair."

She dropped that information so casually as if it were an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was. James felt angry. Noone should be allowed to hurt someone like Sirius. She tried to banish the thought of Sirius screaming as her mother...

"Don't feel bad for me. I'm handling it just fine." Sirius interrupted her worries and lifted the joint. James frowned but didn't say anything. She was staring at her fingers, still grimly imagining what she'd like to do to Sirius parents when suddenly, a soft fingertip brushed over her earshell. Her heart almost stopped and she could feel the heat spreading from her ear over her neck down her back.

"Did that hurt?" Sirius asked.

"The helix?"

"Yes."

James shrugged.

"Not to bad. Just like if someone pinched you really hard."

Sirius hummed thoughtfully.

"I want to get piercings too. But I can't get any facial ones until I've moved out. So one more year...Maybe I should get a bellybutton one. I could hide that..."

"Would suit you. And if you need someone to hold your hand..."

"I don't." Sirius quickly said. "But thank you."

James streched out her body a little and risked to take a closer look at Sirius. She really looked great today. She always looked great of course, but today her hair was open, falling over her shoulders like black silk. Her perfectly plump lips looked like freshly fluffed up pillows. Even the constant shadows under her eyes looked good, made her more attractive even.

"Your parents sound like a handful," James finally said.

Sirius snorted bitterly.

"They aren't a handful. They are an entire metric ton of bullshit. I can't fucking wait until I can leave this bloody house." She looked grimly. Something in James head suddenly clicked.

"Oh, so that is why you want to win so badly. That's why you need the scholarship. So you can leave."

"I want to win because I like winning. But...yes. You're right." She sighed and took another hit of the joint. "I wish I wasn't related to them. I hate everything about them."

James nodded quietly.

"Must suck."

"It does." Sirius paused and frowned. "You know...I don't have a lot of friends. I mean...I don't know if I have any, really. I mean I have the club. But that's different, right? It's just...it's just so hard to connect with people. I feel like I can't get it right. And if I really try and do get it right I feel awfully drained after. Seems so easy for you..."

James put a hand on her shoulder without thinking but Sirius didn't even flinch.

"I am sure there are a lot of people that would like you. If you just let them in. I mean, I like you."

Sirius looked at her thoughtfully.

"I think I like you too."

"Oi Evans, looking good today! New hairdo?" James hollered after Lily passing her in the hallway. But the red head just rolled her eyes and kept walking. James sighed. Still no luck there.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around her shoulder, neatly manicured fingers tapping on her collarbone.

"Well well well, James. Looks like she's not into you at all." Sirius voice was way to close to her ear. James could smell her perfume. She turned to the other girl who was smirking beside her, felt her heart flutter almost painfully and realized: She didn't have a crush on Lily any longer. She had hit on her almost out of habit, but Lily didn't make her feel like that. Sirius did. This wasn't just a simple crush anymore. This had become one of these life altering "being down bad for a potentially straight girl that will haunt your dreams for years to come" kind of moments. And that opened up a whole new can of worms.

**

James nervously plucked on her hair, despite knowing it would never really sit right and she'd mess it up within seconds anyways. She was nervous. Sirius was coming over to study and plot for the upcoming competition. The "Prime Days" were two weeks out and Sirius was getting increasingly itchy.

James grades had shot up back to straight As and it all looked like she would be able to play softball unbothered next year. But she was quite certain that she didn't want to leave the math club. Not as long as Sirius was still in it.

She impatiently looked out of the window and soon saw a black Rolls Royce pull up. Sirius climbed out of it.

Sirius would have looked great even in a potato sack and this skill was desperately needed right now, since this was what she seemed to be dressed in. Her whole, beautiful, body was obscured by this awful looking brownish sack-dress with a peter pan collar. Her hair was braided and made her look like a Wendsday Addams caricature.

Taking after her lookalike, Sirius angrily stared after the car until it vanished down the steer, then she visibly relaxed and proceeded to put down her bag and ducked behind a hedge. When she reappeared she no longer wore the abhorrent dress but instead a tight black cut-out top and a black denim skirt.

James was done staring.

"Trying to look good for me?" she hollered out of the window. Startled, Sirius looked up and then proceeded to flip her off.

James grinned and bounded downstairs. Sirius was still busy unbraiding her hair when James ripped the door open.

"Hey!"

"Hi."

James sat on the edge of her bed, her book on her lap, Sirius was leaning against the headboard, long legs outstretched on the bed. She looked gorgeous. From head to toe actually. Even her bare feet looked good to James. Bloody hell, what kind of thought was that? Since when was she into feet? Maybe she was just really into Sirius...

Sirius looked up from her laptop and smirked up at her through a couple strands of her open hair that had fallen into her face.

"Do you think I don't notice the way you stare at me?"

James froze. Panic rose up in her. This could be bad. Or good?

"I'm sorry," she choked out.

"I wasn't complaining." Oh. So it was good then. She hesitantly turned her head and met Sirius' intense gaze. Fuuuck she was so hot.

"You weren't?"

Sirius put her laptop aside and shifted towards her until her legs were dangeling off the bed next to James'.

"I like it when you look at me. Makes me feel...seen."

James nodded eventhough she wasn't sure she fully comprehended Sirius' words. She was a little distracted by her eyes and her lips and the curve of her breasts under that godforsaken top and the way she smelled...

Sirius leaned in. Just slightly but discerningly enough to leave no doubt. James heart was jumping in her throat. Was this really happening? Only one way to find out. She closed her eyes and leaned in.

Sirius' lips turned out to be exactly as soft as they looked. They interlocked with James' effortlessly, like they'd never done anything else. Sirius hand softly wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer until she pushed James glasses off her nose. They both giggled into the kiss and James lowered Sirius gently onto the bed, burying one hand deeply in the silky hair before she pressed butterfly kisses all over her face and neck.

**

"Nervous?" James asked while squeezing Sirius' hand under the table. Sirius shook her head and squeezed back.

"We're going to win this. If you can focus, Potter!" She smirked. James blushed a little and ruffled her hair.

"I'll do my best." She gave Sirius a bright smile and squeezed her thigh. Sirius leaned in and whispered:

"If you do well, I'll have a special price for you later."

James shivered and grinned. Yeah, she was going to give it her all. She implored her brain to not leave her hanging now.

It didn't. James rushed trough the questions with ease and so did the others. Sirius' strict preparation regime seemed to have been successful and the group left the first day of the "Prime Days" Challenge with a good feeling.

"I think we might actually win this," Sirius beamed. James hadn't seen her this elated since...well since something that had happened six weeks ago. For the first time at least. James wrapped an arm around her shoulder and leaned in to kiss Sirius' cheek when she was harshly pushed away.

"James!" she hissed. "We've talked about this!"

"Sorry...I just thought since we're out of town..." James felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach and Sirius expression turned from angry to guilty in an instant.

"James...I'm sorry. I..." she looked around then grabbed James' hand and pulled her aside. "I'm just worried my parents are going to find anything out before I can move out. You...you don't know how bad they can get." Sirius stared on her loafers, brows furrowed. James reached out and gently stroked her cheek.

"You could live with me...I mean, if it gets to bad. You could always come to me. My parents won't mind, they love you."

Sirius looked up, perplexed and touched.

"James..." she grabbed James free hand and intertwined their fingers, then leaned her forehead on James' shoulder. "I'm so glad I met you."

James pulled her into her arms, squeezing tightly and inhaled Sirius' intoxicating scent. She would figure something out to help her girlfriend. And if she had to fist fight Sirius parents personally. This girl deserved better and, from now on, James would make sure she got it.

[ya-zz]

HI YAZZ

I am here for my bbg Zen cause he’s silly

Could you maybe possibly write him and the reader just chilling. Maybe it’s after he’s captured by Talon. The reader, whom he knows because they were with Genji during when he went on his little thing, is now a member of Talon and is the one who’s supposed to oversee him.

Maybe Zen Talks some sense into the reader and reader is all like “ah shit I can’t keep him here in good conscience :(“

That’s just an idea, you don’t have to use it! ILY thank you 🫶

ZEN MY SWEET ANGELLLLL

THANK YOU SWEETIE!!

Zenyatta x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1200

Years at the Monastery had served you well. Making friends with the locals in Nepal, understanding the teachings of the Shambali and of course, getting close to a monk called Zenyatta. Your mind was finally calm, even during the toughest times and you had Zenyatta to thank for that.

It was a friendly relationship, yet his younger brother, Ramattra, was not too keen on a human being by his side. You did what you could to make the younger omnic like you, but it was in vain. No matter how much you showed kindness, it wasn’t working.

That was then. 

Ramattra had since left the Monastery, leaving you, Zenyatta and your master, Mondatta there. Neither one of you knew what the younger omnic was planning, but you believed it was something right. 

Zenyatta left soon after, you in tow as you left Nepal. There was no goal in mind, mindlessly following the monk as he tried to offer teachings of peace to those he came across. During this time, you both met Genji, not just a Japanese man, but a Shimada. 

You knew of him, or at least of the Shimada clan, but you never once judged him for his past. He already had a lot on his plate with dealing with his change in body. Half human, half cyborg, it was a lot to take in. 

It took some time, but Genji finally came to peace with himself and the three of you were traveling together. 

That was then.

Several years had passed and you hadn’t seen either of them since you parted ways. You were working with Talon, bargaining with Null Sector. You had inklings about who was running the show, but your word would never be heard by the higher ups. All you had to do was follow orders. 

Most of the crew were on missions, others just coming back. You weren’t allowed in the field for the next few months due to an injury you sustained in your last mission. A shot to the head that only grazed your temple had you out of commission for awhile. You were lucky it wasn’t fatal, but the recovery was extensive, both mentally and physically. 

There was talk around headquarters of an omnic in the cells and it wasn’t long after that you had your orders to oversee this captee. It was something to do while you were recovering.

The window in the door was blacked out, the lights inside were off; they usually aren’t unless there were people inside trying to get information, but when no noise could be heard, you turned the lights on, peering into the cell. 

“No…” 

You swipe your card to get in but access was denied, typical that they hadn’t set it up yet. Of course, that did not stop you as you input your commanders code, the door sliding open instantly. You’ll take the wrap when the time comes. 

“Zen…?” You call out, approaching him cautiously as the door slides shut behind you. He doesn’t move for a moment but when he does, his fingers twitch, lights flickering on his forehead. 

Zenyatta had wires coming from his head, a small hum of electricity present in the room. 

“[y/n]?” He cocks his head to the side, wires shifting slightly. 

“You remembered me?” You kneel down in front of him. He was no threat.

“I could never forget you. What are you doing here?” The monk asks. 

“I...” There was a small hesitation. “I work here.”

“You work… here?” He doesn’t seem to believe it. 

“Yes, unfortunately so.” You sigh. “How did they find you?” 

“I cannot say for certain.” He admits. 

“Did they hurt you?” You question. 

“No. I came along willingly.”

“I see…” You were curious, but you had your ways to find out. “How is Genji?” 

“He is fine. Before I was taken here, he went back to see his brother.” 

You nod, a small smile on your face. “I’m glad he is doing okay.” Bringing your hand up, you stroke his head, the metal a cool contrast to your warm hand. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

“Thank you for the concern.” He chuckles. 

There was an awkward silence before you hold one of the red wires circling him. “They’re extracting information from you?” 

“Yes. They believe I know who is leading Null Sector.” 

“Do you?” 

“I do not.” There was an uncertainty in his tone. “Though I have my suspicions.” 

You whisper just in case someone was outside. “Ramattra?” 

“Yes.” 

Then that struck another conversation. 

“I’m sorry about Mondatta.” 

“It was not your fault.” He says solemnly. “He believed he could bring change and peace in a more civilised matter. His work with humans were proving successful until that night in Kings Row.”

You nod. “I’ll dig around and see if I can find anything regarding his death.”

“Do not put yourself in danger. Time has since passed from that day.” 

“Zen… If it brings some peace of mind-”

“Please, [y/n].” He hums, looking at you. His optics are searching for something. 

You bring your hand to his, thumb stroking over his knuckles. “Okay…”

He nods his head. “Thank you.” There was a short pause before he speaks again. “Finding out what happened will not bring him back. We must move on.”

“I know.” You bring tilt his head up, making him face you. “Perhaps you can finish what he started.” 

Zenyatta tilted his head in curiosity. “How? I am here.” 

“Not for long.” You smile before you stand, leaving the room. There was nobody in sight as you fiddled with the system outside of the room. The security mechanisms were shut down, cuffs were released as all transfer of data halted. 

You had to be quick to get him out without anyone seeing. Something inside of you had to help your friend. You had to leave with him.

Rushing back in, you unclip the wires, helping him stand. Your hands caress his face, the golden metal shimmering in the light. 

“We’re getting out of here.” You say with a hushed voice. “Follow me.” 

You grab his wrist, pulling him along through the hallways, out of sight from everyone and the cameras. His steps were almost silent against the tiled floor as he followed behind you, listening to every command you gave him. 

It was the perfect time with the majority of the base out on missions.

After several long minutes of running and hiding, the building was but a distant memory. The crowds around the city centre were a perfect distraction as the two of you blend in. Zenyatta’s hand never left yours as the pair of you wandered through the crowds and for once, he felt safe. 

“Thank you, [y/n].” He speaks out as he walks beside you. 

“I’d rather see you safe than locked up in a cell against your will.”

“What about you?” He asks. 

“I can protect myself should they come looking for me. Perhaps… we can wander the world again? Together?” 

“Company would be appreciated.” He chuckles. “Let us get out of here.” 

“Where to first?”

He looks over at you, looking you up and down.

“Somewhere to change our clothes.”

[candlemouse]

so when are we getting that bite the hand (that feeds me) update………………… take your time and all but remember that i will always be waiting, lurking, in my mail, waiting that update….. im getting my warrenessa…….

(Sneak peek of bite the hand under the cut 🤭)

Ha! First off, this was really sweet and flattering to know someone is just as obsessed with this fic as I am! 🫶🫶

Second, this made me laugh a lot so thank you so much 🫶🫶

Short answer: no clue!

Long answer: I have a curse to write out of order, so while there are only a couple of scenes left to write for the third chapter, I've actually mostly been writing the fourth chapter instead. But never fret! It will be coming. I'm hesitant to make a prediction because I am notoriously horrible at doing so (I say maybe three months, and the update is out the next day; or I say a week and it takes a year 😬)

Buuuuuut! I'm willing to share the earliest Warrenessa scene in Chapter 3 (which will cover GotSP through the end of KttDP)

The context is that Vanessa is out of the Quiet Box, in her cell, and Tanu and Warren are interrogating her (which was actually off-handedly mentioned in the book!) Also the exact writing may change!! This is a draft!

Irritation twitched in Warren’s jaw. “I don't know if you've realized, but we're not alone.”

“Oh, I'm certain Tanu expects enough,” Vanessa snapped.

The man in question stood stoically, further from her cell than Warren, who was dragging his hands down his face. His hair had already become a mess from his running hands. “You’re infuriating.”

Vanessa laughed and lounged in her bean-bag chair. She could feel the sharpness of her tongue and relished in wielding it like a knife. “Tanu, let me fill you in. Warren and I were mission partners in the Knights for about, what? Three years?”

“Mission partners is a fun term. It implies that one of us wasn't a traitor,” Warren seethed. The vehemence in his voice surprised her, building up her own.

“I'm sorry, okay? How many times do I have to apologize?”

Warren’s eyebrow quirked up, and for a moment, Vanessa saw the Burgess resemblance from Patton. “I believe that may be your first.”

The tight anger in her throat broke as she stifled a surprised laugh. “Oh.”

Tanu took the stunned silence to spread his hands placatingly. For a man caught between two volatile people with a long history, he kept surprisingly calm. “How would you feel about ingesting a truth serum?”

Vanessa straightened and the hair on the back of her neck prickled like a porcupine. Cold fear curdled in her. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Vanessa,” Warren said. “You understand how fraught our trust is in you.”

Adrenaline flooded through her body and she hid her trembling hands behind her. She shook her head again. Her mind remained hers and hers alone. They could cage her in the Quiet Box or the dungeon, but they couldn’t extract her mind. No. That was unfathomable.

“Consider it.” Warren locked eyes with Vanessa. “Consider the impossible task we have of convincing ourselves and others to trust you if we only go on your word.”

“I've already helped you with finding Kendra and exposing Maddox,” Vanessa protested. “Not even to mention the massive secret of the Sphinx.”

“You're right. But,” Warren sighed, "we need more.”

It had been many years since they had last fit together like puzzle pieces. But it was fleeting times like these when Vanessa felt like she had found the frequency again, and that she heard his unspoken words.

He was asking her to trust him.

“Fine,” Vanessa capitulated. She leaned back in the beanbag and steadied her voice to prevent any embarrassing relevations on her next words. “But only with you. Alone.”

Aaaaaand you'll have to wait until the chapter comes out to see what they talk about!! Sorry!!

Thank you for your kind words once again 🫶