#this is terribly written but I didn’t have much time so it’ll be fine…

[pixiedustandpetrichor]

For the @sapphicnovember prompt: Rain

Very much a rare pair, I know, but I had an idea that I just had to write

beneath the cut for mentions of domestic abuse

Come in With the Rain

It is raining when Mary Macdonald first arrives at number four Privet Drive. Petunia likes to think that the raindrops are tears, in honor of Lily. When she answers the door she vaguely recognizes Macdonald from summers when Lily would invite her friends over, and from Lily’s wedding. She takes a moment, just a moment, to admire the way the raindrops don’t touch Macdonald, swerving around her with some sort of magic. It reminds her of herself; the way she won’t let the tears touch her, won’t let herself cry.

Macdonald glares at her and asks fiercely.

“Where’s the boy?”

Petunia knows she’s a witch, and she’ll find her way in anyway, so she leads her into the house, wondering what Vernon will think. She opens the door to the cupboard beneath the stairs, revealing the tears stained boy within.

“You keep him in a closet?” Macdonald asks. Petunia can feel the air around them crackling with magic and she flinches. She hates the feel of magic.

“I-” Petunia mutters softly. “Vernon insisted.”

Something in the way she says it catches Macdonald’s attention.

“You always do what your husband tells you to?”

Petunia bristles.

“Of course! I am a dutiful wife.” If not a good one, finishes her mind. But that isn’t her fault. It’s just that Vernon Dursley will never be enough for her. No man will. 

Macdonald bites her lip, studying her, but she seems to think better of whatever she was going to say.

“I’m taking the boy.”

“You can’t!” Petunia protests, loud enough that Dudley awakes upstairs and begins to cry. “You can’t.” She repeats in a normal tone, and then she outlines the rules of the magical protection around the boy.

Macdonald wavers, but eventually she leaves with the solid threat that she’ll be back.

It is raining the second time Macdonald shows up, but this time Petunia thinks the sky doesn’t cry for Lily. She selfishly imagines it cries for her. But she’s done her makeup, smoothing pale cream over purple, and so she answers the door with a pasted on smile.

This time they sit in the living room, and Macdonald holds Harry and Petunia holds Dudley and Petunia can almost pretend this is normal.

Macdonald comes at least once a week now, but always when it’s raining, and the rest of the time Petunia can pretend that she is just a figment of her imagination; a spirit she created to deal with her own loneliness. They’ve become friends, now, sort of, though Petunia still calls her Macdonald and Macdonald insists on calling her Evans. Petunia prefers it to Dursley, though she’ll never admit it. 

She always knocks and waits at the door, until one day when she appears directly in the hallway. Petunia shrieks and jumps backward before recognizing her. She raises her hands up to cover her face, but it’s too late. Macdonald sees, and her mouth drops open.

“What the hell’s going on up there?” Vernon calls. He’s still angry about Petunia moving Harry to the guest bedroom, but she can’t bring herself to regret that decision. She’s grown fond him, and his little bursts of magic don’t remind her of her complicated, never resolved relationship with her sister anymore, but of the quiet mornings and afternoons spent with Macdonald.

Petunia raises a finger to her lips and puts on her best calm voice.

“Nothing, dear.”

A few moments later, the door slams. Distantly, she can hear the car start up and drive away. Only then does Macdonald speak.

“He did this to you?”

Petunia knows the bruise around her eye is puffy and that there’s a scrape on her cheek. It probably looks really bad to an outsider. She was on her way to put on her makeup when Macdonald arrived unannounced. 

Petunia turns away, gazing out the window at the gently falling rain, and thinks she should have known.

“Only sometimes,” She’s disgusted by how meek her voice sounds. “Only when he’s had a bad day, or I don’t do something right. It’s not a big thing.”

“Petunia.” Her name sounds so precious coming from Macdonald. She never knew it could be so beautiful. “Look at me,” It’s a request, not a command, and she turns around to see that Macdonald’s eyes are filled with tears. Macdonald raises her hand to cup Petunia’s uninjured cheek, and Petunia freezes, heart beating loudly in her ears. Without taking her eyes from hers, Macdonald raises her wand and traces it gently across her face. Petunia can feel the pain fade, the cut stitching itself. A tear slips from Macdonald’s eye, a perfect little raindrop, and Petunia decides she doesn’t hate the feeling of magic after all.

She can feel it now, crackling the air with anticipation rather than anger now. She is poised on a precipice, feeling as though the rain and wind might sweep her away at any moment. Macdonald leans in-

Petunia turns away. 

Macdonald is so, so good, and Petunia thinks it will be a while yet before she’s worthy of her, if she ever will be.

Macdonald stands with her mouth parted, watching her, for just a moment, but she gathers herself quickly.

“We need to go. I’m taking you away from this place, from him.”

“I can’t-”

“I’m taking Harry away from him.”

“Alright.” Petunia’s strength leaves her and she nods.

“Get Dudley and your things and meet me down stairs,” Macdonald tells her, and then she’s gone, a trace of her perfume hanging about the hall.

Petunia doesn’t have much in things; everything she wants to take fits easily in a suitcase along with Dudley’s favorite toys.

Dudley’s in his crib, fast asleep, one hand curled beneath a chubby cheek. He looks so perfect that Petunia’s heart aches. She feels a sudden rush of certainty. This is the right thing to do; to raise Dudley away from Vernon and his influence.

He wakes when she picks him up, burbling happily up at her. 

“We’re going on an adventure,” She tells him, bouncing him on her hip. He smiles, oblivious, and she realizes he’ll never remember any of this when he’s older. And that might be a good thing.

Downstairs, Macdonald is waving her wand about the room, holding Harry close with her other hand.

“Ready, Evans?” She asks when Petunia steps into the room.

“Ready, Mary.” She replies, and Mary beams. Together, they walk to the door. “What were those spells for?”

“Curses, mostly, and a few so that he won’t try to find you.”

“What kind of curses?” She asks, filled with a sudden, bitter, righteous need for revenge.

“A lot of kinds; but for now let’s just say his dick won’t be standing on its own without a crutch anytime soon. Or ever.”

And Petunia laughs in spite of herself. She grabs Mary’s hand and they step out into the pouring rain, droplets caressing their faces like kisses, or tears. Mary holds her hand tightly and suddenly they’re teleporting away, free as the wind and the rain.

[cyberels]

IT WILL COME BACK

(you know better, babe)

𖦹彡⋆｡˚ summary: ellie makes it her goal to talk to you again after a one night stand.

see part one here

𖦹彡⋆｡˚ warnings: nsfw (implied), language

𖦹彡⋆｡˚ a/n: this is the worst thing ive ever written please god do not base my skill off of this i lost inspiration 😭😭😭😭 pleasee im so sorry..,,,.,. also no smut in this part my bad sorry gay people

alsooo readers username on ig is hoezier if you don’t like it simply pretend it’s something else😁

reader is female with a reputation for one night stands

this is also very much loser!ellie idk man idk she gets more confident later in the fic tho

ellie was fucked - no pun intended. you literally just gave her the best sex of her life and immediately after you were pulled away from her without even so much as a goodbye.

if ellie ever finds out who called the cops, she swears to herself that she’s going to punch them right in their fucking face for cutting her time with you short.

there was something about you that made her yearn to have you near her again. she was trying to forget about you, but you were becoming a craving she couldn’t shake, despite barely even speaking to one another. your small encounter with ellie left an impact on her.

she knew basically nothing about you besides your name, but she did learn that you were… very experienced. she could gather that much based on how confident you were, and how it took you just minutes to figure out how to make her feel the best she’s ever felt. you knew what you were doing, and ellie didn’t even try to resist your advances, letting her body be taken by you.

ellie was not submissive, she barely even let any of the other people she’s slept with take the dominant position… so why did she let you, of all people, take control without her even putting up a fight? you were under her skin like an itch that was impossible to scratch.

ellie arrived back at her dorm later that night, but the feeling that she left something unfinished hung over her like a shadow.

she pulled out her phone, which was a shitty attempt at a distraction; no matter how many tiktok videos she watches, ​her thoughts were consistently and stubbornly directed to you. her brain couldn't wrap around how you became entrenched within her mind so easily.

she needed to tell someone about this and get if off her chest. she opened up her contacts and her thumb hovers over dina’s number. she debates on even telling her friend about this for a minute… falling for someone she barely knows is definitely not something she ever wanted to happen. she sighs, and presses the call button, very painfully aware of how embarrassing the situation is.

“hey!” dina answers after a few rings, “what’s up?”

“dina, i’m dying. i’m screwed.”

“what’d you do this time?”

ellie groans before explaining the situation that unfolded just hours before, words gushing forth as she explains the events of the night.

dina interrupts ellie’s rant after a few moments, laughing as she speaks. “—okay, slow down. what’s her name?”

the second your name spills out of ellie’s mouth, dina inhales in a sharp breath of air.

“what? what’s wrong?” ellie asked, “do you know her?”

“if she’s who i think she is… i wouldn’t get attached.”

“…why?”

“i’m sorry, i just— she’s slept with a few girls i know and she usually does not ever talk to them again.”

“well it’s too late for me, i’m already attached; you don’t know the half of it. but there was something there between us, a spark or whatever. i don’t know, maybe she felt it, too.”’

“that’s not a spark. that’s a fire. because your brain has got to be fucking burning down if you’re even considering reaching out to her.”

“…do you have her instagram?”

“ellie. no.”

ellie sighs, kicking off her shoes and flopping on her bed, “i’ll just say hi and see where it goes. she probably won’t even respond, it’ll be fine.”

“i want you to know i think this is a terrible idea… but i sent you her username.”

“fuck yeah! thank you, dina.”

fuck your reputation, ellie was gonna make you hers one way or another.

you stare at your screen for a second.

ellie… that’s a pretty name.

it suits her.

she went out of her way to find you, it’s kind of sweet. half the other people you’ve hooked up with don’t give a shit about you after you’re done; you can’t be mad at them, though, considering you do the same.

ellie was just a rare case, you’ll forget about her in a few days.

…right?

you know that getting attached is never a good idea, that’s why you barely bothered to learn her name. in all honesty, you didn’t really care to learn the names of anyone you’ve slept with, the only reason why you did was because you didn’t want to look impolite. despite feeling like an asshole, you set your phone down on your bedside table and attempt to shove the thoughts of this girl—ellie—away. you were already constantly thinking about her, messaging her would just make this whole situation harder on you.

you refuse to get more attached than you already are.

unfortunately for you, your attempts to get ellie off your mind are proving unsuccessful. you’d never admit it, but she was getting to you more than anyone else you’ve been with before.

it’s a struggle to go about your day normally when you’re constantly on the lookout for this stupid girl you cannot get your mind off of for some godforsaken reason; you did not want to run into her and make this situation more awkward than it already is.

the stars are not on your side, apparently, because when you enter the coffee shop you usually do homework at, you see her in the corner. she’s on her phone, scrolling idly through it.

great!

your body cries out for her touch, the invisible string of attraction that tied you to her pulled you in closer and closer and you mentally curse yourself for feeling this strongly about her.

you can’t shake the feeling that you should go over there and say something, anything. but what would you even say?

“hey, sorry i ignored you, you just make me feel things i’ve never felt before and it’s making me question everything because i’ve never felt this way about any of my other hookups.”

…that doesn’t seem like the best option, so you inch closer to the door you just came in from before turning and leaving completely.

‘god’ you think, ‘what the fuck is happening to me?’

unbeknownst to you, ellie sees you. she sees you walk in, look at her, and immediately leave.

ellie is well aware of your reputation, but it still stings that you don’t care the way that she does. she knows that you probably don’t care much about anyone that you’ve slept with, that it’s not just her you don’t seem to care about, and she tries to be okay with it.

she packed up her stuff, unwilling to sit in the coffee shop while she was sulking, but as she was doing so, her phone lit up with a notification.

‘take that, dina,’ ellie thinks, ‘she wants me… i think?’

[residentflamingo]

Only One Call Away

Rosé x gn! reader

Summary ———> Rosie decides to go out to drink with her friends. All is fine until reader gets a call from her two hours later. What happened while she was out?

Requested?: yes 🫶

Warnings: bullying, toxic friends, & cursing

Genre: hurt/comfort & a fluffy ending

A/N: To the person who requested this, thank you so much because this was probably the most challenging and longest thing I've ever written. And I put all my heart and soul into this. I think I made it a lot longer than I was supposed to, but that's okay. I always love a challenge, and a perfect opportunity to hone my writing skills. Anyway, I hope both the person who requested this and everyone else reading, enjoys this fic. You can also check out my other stuff if you would like, it's very much appreciated ❤️

Word count ———> 5,394

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 → 10:00 PM 

“Babe, are you sure about this? Your friends are terrible! They don’t even pay attention to you half of the time when you guys hang out.” 

“Yes, it’ll be fine! Besides, they're not as bad as you say they are. I’ve been friends with them for a long time, they love hanging out with me!”

You were currently standing in front of your girlfriend, about to escort her into the cold winter night, trying to convince her not to go out with her friends. She was wearing a beautiful purple dress, with a cream colored fluffy coat over her shoulders, and a beautiful pair of Saint Laurent heels that made her look powerful with each step.

Her hair was curled, and it effortlessly flowed down her shoulders, making her look like an absolute goddess. You couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. You felt so lucky to have her as your significant other.

The only thing you found truly bad about her, was her friends.

No matter how good she looked, they always found different ways to ridicule and belittle her. Not her four best friends from Blackpink. No, these were her other friends she claimed she met in high school.

She would tell you stories of how they were really close back then, and how she kept in touch with them over the years as she got more famous. You loved hearing her tell stories of the adventures they had, and how she used to sneak out during the night and go on joyrides with them.

You hung out with her and those friends one time, just trying to see what they were like, and you couldn’t stand how rude they were. They constantly threw insults at her, mentioning how her aussie accent makes her sound silly when she talks, saying she needs to get a different hair style, and even making fun of the outfit she was wearing. You were absolutely disgusted at the way they were acting towards her. It was as if they didn’t even treat her like a normal human being.

They would even emotionally manipulate Rosie, making her think they were just joking, so she never noticed their horrible behaviors. When you confronted her about them, she always just insisted to you that that’s how they joke around. So it was hard trying to convince her to not be friends with them anymore. You love your girlfriend very much and you just want the best for her. You would hate for her to keep getting her heart broken over and over by those low-lifes she calls “friends.” But for now, all you could do was wait for Rosie to realize the huge mistake she was making.

You sighed, “Okay, whatever you say. Are you sure you don’t wanna stay home instead? I can order takeout, and we can watch movies.”

“Yes honey, I’m sure. There’s nothing to worry about. My friends will keep an eye on me, and make sure I don’t get too wasted.”

“Alright then. Just remember, I’m only one call away if you need me. I don’t mind picking you up.”

Rosie shook her head, and smiled at how protective you were being. She then stepped up towards you, put both of her hands on each side of your face, and looked you in the eyes and said “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. I love you darling.” She then gave you a soft kiss on the lips, slowly walked towards the door, and turned around before opening it to look back and make sure you said “I love you” back to her.

“I love you too.” You said softly, as you waved her goodbye and watched her walk through the door and saunter down the long hallway of the apartment complex. Her words from earlier kept replaying in your head, making you wonder if she was ever going to come to a realization of how she needed to get rid of her supposed high school buddies.

After closing the front door, you turned around looking at Hank saying, “I guess it’s just me and you now buddy.” He leaned his head down on the tile floor with a loud sigh looking depressed. Almost as if he perfectly understood what you just said. You let out a loud sigh and plopped down on the couch, deciding to watch some boring Netflix shows that have been recommended to you for sometime.

Man you sure did miss her already, even though she’s only been gone for ten minutes. Before you started watching tv, you picked up your phone and made sure your notification volume was at full blast, so you wouldn’t miss one text or call from Rosie.

→ 11:30 PM

Meanwhile at the bar in downtown Seoul…

“Hey I’m gonna go get a drink from the bar, you guys want anything?”

“No, we're good, you hoe. Besides, you probably wouldn’t even order our drinks right anyways, knowing you and your terrible accent. People can even understand what you’re saying half of the time!”

Rosie’s so-called friends all started laughing at McKenzie’s remark, making Rosie’s lip quiver and her eyes start to water. So far tonight they didn’t hold back on the snide comments, and rude remarks against her. By the end of the night, Rosie had already felt like she was being pushed to her breaking point.

She had no idea how she never realized how mean her friends actually were to her. She hated how she would just ignore the rude remarks half of the time, and never say anything about it. She hated being taken advantage of. She knew deep down that they weren’t her real friends, it was just a matter of realizing it that was important.

Tonight she had a recollection of all the times they asked her for money, begged for free concert tickets, made fun of her outfits, bullied her, and even made her pay for most meals because they were “too expensive”. After tonight, she wanted nothing to do with them. She knew she should’ve listened to you, but she was too scared to let them go. She’s had so many good memories with them, and it was so hard for her to just throw it away.

They used to be such good people. It saddened her how much they changed over the years, and how she couldn’t do anything about it. Tonight was her chance to finally lift that weight off of her shoulders, and move on with the next chapter of life. Preferably without them in it.

“Okayyyy bestie, we’re gonna go to the bathrooom real quick. We’ll be righttt back heheh.” McKenzie slurred. Her and the rest of the people in the group turned around, and walked off into the bathroom, leaving Rosie alone as she went up to go order something at the crowded bar.

About 15 minutes later when Rosie finally got her drink, she walked over to the table everyone was originally sitting at, expecting them to be there waiting on her. Only to find out that none of them were there like they said they would be…

“Hey guys, they finally got done making my drink! Wait where is everyone..?”

→ 12:05 AM

“Aw shit, what the fuck is that?!” You shouted with confusion, as your phone suddenly started going off. You fell off the couch, startled from the loud noise, and then frantically searched for your phone in between the cushions. You realized you had fallen asleep on the couch, and was out for almost 3 hours. God that show must have been really boring then you thought. After finding your phone, your stomach dropped reading the caller id. Rosie. You quickly pressed answer, and whispered “Hey what’s up? Is everything alright?”

There was a couple seconds of silence over the phone, making you really worried, wondering if it was a prank caller or a kidnapper. Panic was about the only thing going through your mind right now, just begging for her to say one word over the phone. Then she finally did. You could hear her sniffling and crying, making your stomach drop.

“N-no. Something happened earlier. We were at this really crowded club and I went up to get a drink real quick, and when I turned around a couple minutes later, they were all gone. l-looked through the whole club asking if anyone knew where t-they went, and all of them said no. So I went outside, thinking I could walk home by myself, but I-I ended up getting lost, and now I have no idea where I am. They left me all alone and n-never texted me asking where I was. I’m so scared, Y/N. Just come and get me please.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious? They just left you all alone in the club? Those fucking bastards. Okay, I need you to stay where you are, and try to send me your location from your phone. Once you do that I’ll be able to track you down, and come pick you up. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah I can do that. I’m so sorry for calling you this late Y/N. I didn’t think something like this would happen.”

“Honey it’s okay, it doesn’t matter anyways. I don’t give a shit about what time it is. If it was 4 AM, I still would’ve come to pick you up. Don’t worry about it at all. Just focus on sending me your location.”

You let out a deep breath that you had been holding in, hoping it would calm you down a little, after thinking about Rosie’s friends leaving her by herself at the bar. They were absolute pieces of shit to her. Completely knowing that she’s an idol, and that she could've gotten kidnapped or stalked, they still did it anyway. I mean what did she ever do to deserve that?

You couldn't even begin to imagine how scared she was right now. All alone in an unknown part of the city, losing her friends in the same night, and knowing she was being used all those years because she was famous? Absolutely terrible.

While waiting for her to respond, you hurried up and got dressed, picked up Hank, grabbed your car keys, and rushed out the door to run to your car.

“O-Okay I sent it to you. You should be getting it in a second.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in five minutes! Don’t move or go anywhere unless someone is following you okay?”

“Okay I will. I love you Y/N. Please hurry…” She said in a quavering voice.

“Okay I will don’t worry, bye!” You quickly hung up the phone, tossed it in the passenger seat, and swallowed a big lump in your throat. Your hands were currently gripped on the steering wheel so tight that your knuckles were turning white, your legs were shaking with anxiety, adrenaline was coursing through your veins, and sweat was running down your spine.

You had never been more panicked in any situation, than at this very moment. The constant reminder that your girlfriend was all by herself walking through the streets, in the midst of the dangerous neighborhoods, had you on edge. In a split second you quickly pulled out of the parking lot, faster than you ever had in your entire life.

You were currently speeding through the streets, going at least twenty miles over the speed limit, with all of your surroundings flashing by so fast that you couldn’t even process where you were. Quite a few citizens and onlookers had given you dirty looks, and shouts of insults along the way.

You obviously knew better than to speed. But with the situation at hand, you didn’t give a fuck if you got a ticket or not. Emotions were running high, and your mind was working faster than your normal decision making usually was.

Funny enough, right before the navigation on your phone signaled you weren’t that far from the destination, “A Thousand Miles” started playing on the radio. “Really? Right now?” you thought. The irony of it was quite hilarious, but that was something you wouldn’t notice until later. You really would walk a thousand miles for your girlfriend if you had too.

After making a sharp turn through the dark alleyway, you drove very slowly down the unfamiliar street, making sure Rosie would spot you in your small vehicle. The alley was filthy, trash layed out everywhere, and street lights were flickering making the area seem even more ominous. You hated going down dark places like these since they always made you so nervous, but that nervousness turned into determination as you were frantically searching for your girlfriend.

While your eyes were scanning the area through your windshield, you were suddenly startled by your girlfriend standing in front of the beaming headlights. You swiftly slammed your foot on the breaks, and made the car come to an abrupt stop. It seemingly scared the both of you, as you put your hand over your heart wondering if you just had a mini heart attack.

Meanwhile, Rosie’s eyes were widened with fear seeing an unknown car drive slowly in the alleyway, thinking she was about to get kidnapped by someone. Fear was running all the way through her body. So much so that her hands were shaking, and chills went down her spine. She slowly backed away from the car, and clutched her purse with both hands just in case she had to make a run for it. You looked at her and tilted your head in confusion, wondering why she wasn’t coming towards the car. Then you realized, “Ohhh. She probably thinks I’m someone else trying to pick her up.”

You then rolled the window down, and stuck your head out the window shouting "Hey, it’s me!” Rosie let out a deep sigh of relief, and thanked the lord for sending you her way to protect her. She felt so reassured to see you, knowing she could finally wrap her arms around you, and let out all of her bottled up emotions from tonight.

She was finally safe.

After a couple seconds of calming her nerves, she snaps out of it, and slowly walks over to the passenger side of the car. Climbing in, and firmly sitting down on the comfort of the smooth leather seats. She sits her purse down near her feet, and leans back in the seat letting out another deep sigh. This time to suppress her emotions down, so she wouldn’t have a full on nervous breakdown. You looked over at her and mumbled “Hi honey,” not wanting to speak too loud, since it was still late at night. But still trying to show excitement in seeing her, since you were so glad you found her.

She looked over at you and tried to speak, but words couldn't come out of her mouth. Her lip was trembling and her breaths became short, as all her emotions were threatening to break free from the invisible bottle she was containing them in. You took notice of this, and reached over to wrap your arms around her chest, enveloping her in a warm hug.

You had never seen her this pent up before, and it absolutely just broke your heart to pieces. You then made sure to speak up and let her know it was okay to let her emotions go, since she was so used to hiding them for the camera and the public eye.“It’s okay love. Let it all out, you can let your guard down around me. I’m here to listen.”

The flood gates had then been opened, and Rosie’s eyes began overflowing with tears as she let out a heartbreaking sob only you had ever heard. Not even her long time friends, or family members had ever heard her cry this hard. She felt completely comfortable around you, and decided to just let all of her emotions go in that moment.

She couldn’t believe how long her friends were using her for, and just the selfish way they had left her behind. On top of all the insults thrown at her. She tried to just ignore them, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. Along with that, she also felt guilty not listening to you whenever you tried to warn her about the toxicity she was constantly putting herself around. “How could I be so dumb, and not think to listen?” she thought.

She suddenly pulled away from your embrace, looked you in the eyes, and said “I’m so sorry for not listening to you, I don’t know what I was thinking. Y-you were only trying to help me, and instead I-”

As Rosie was going on trying to apologize to you, you interrupted her and hugged her again saying, “Hey hey hey, don’t worry about it. That doesn’t matter now. Everyone makes mistakes, and I know it wasn’t your fault. Besides, you’re better off without them now. You got me, Lisa, Jisoo, and Jennie to talk too. So trust me, you aren’t losing much.”

“Thank you Y/N. I don’t know how, but you always know the right thing to say. It really amazes me how perfect you are sometimes” Rosie mumbled, leaning her head over your shoulder, and giving you a tight squeeze to your chest.

At home whenever she needed advice, or a little encouragement for the day, you somehow always knew what to say no matter what it was. You’re always the best person she can rely on, the one person she could really be her true self around. As she thought about it a little harder, this was a moment in her life that determined how much she really does appreciate you, and how much she really does want to be with you.

She smiled to herself, thinking of how good of a partner you would be when you guys got married someday. She couldn’t wait for that day to come. Marriage was always something she had dreamed about, and you made it even more possible for her. When she finally snapped back to reality, she took a look over your shoulder and saw a familiar face sitting patiently in the back seat.

It was Hank, her favorite dog in the world! She slowly pulled away from you with one of her eyebrows raised, “Is that Hank there in the back seat?” You turned your head around to look at him too and chuckled saying, “Yeah I brought him, knowing you would be super excited to see him.” Hank looked up at Rosie and started wagging his tail with enthusiasm, sharing the same excitement Rosie had.

She then leaned over and picked up Hank, gently putting him in her lap. “Hiiii buddy! Are you so excited to see mommy? I know you are! Hahaha” You looked over at both of them and smiled, happy to see Rosie so cheerful again. While looking at her, a good idea had suddenly crossed your mind and you thought it was perfect for the situation at hand.

“Hey babe, you wanna go get some ice cream?” you asked.

“Yeah that sounds great!” she said cheerfully.

After checking to see if Rosie had her seat belt on, you put the car in drive, and gently pressed your foot on the gas to make the car accelerate. As you drove around a little bit, you could see people walking home from the bars, and stumbling over their own feet from consuming so much alcohol.

It was pretty much a normal sight, since it was a late friday night. You could tell that the only places that were open were the bars, making you a little bit nervous since you promised Rosie her ice cream. And most fast food restaurants definitely did not stay open until midnight.

But to your luck, as you made a left turn down to main street, you spotted a nice burger place that was still open. With the name “TJ Burger”, flashing on a huge, bright, neon sign. “Perfect” you mumbled under your breath. Hopefully they had ice cream, because this was probably the only fast food restaurant open for miles.

As you pulled up to the drive through looking at the menu, they had almost every kind of American food you could think of. Burgers, onion rings, chicken tenders, whatever it was, they certainly had it. Then when you looked over to the other side of the menu, there it was, twenty different kinds of milkshakes and ice cream flavors.

You smiled and looked over at Rosie, pointing to the menu to prove to her that they indeed did have ice cream. She smiled and mumbled “Yayyy”. While you were looking at the menu, you were suddenly interrupted by a booming voice from the loudspeaker that spooked the both of you a little bit. You shook your head and laughed over how jumpy you were, then you turned to Rosie and asked her,

“What flavor do you want honey?”

“Uhmm, I’ll just get chocolate.” she answered with a whisper.

You turned back around facing the loudspeaker, ordering a small vanilla cone for yourself, along with Rosie’s ice cream, then casually pulled up to the drive-thru window to wait.

The atmosphere in the car was kind of awkward, since you hadn’t really talked about what had previously happened earlier. So while waiting, Rosie wanted to find a way to kill the time. So, she got curious and asked you, “Have you ever been here before?”

You looked over at her and answered, “Nope! But I heard it’s really good. Why do you ask?”

She shook her head and said, “Oh I was just wondering. I figured you knew about this place already.”

“Nope I had never been here until now. I mean, I knew it was-”

Before you could finish your sentence, the fast food worker interrupted you and said, ”Here’s your ice cream.” with a rude tone. He then carefully handed you the cones, and before you could even say thank you he said “You’re welcome have a nice night.” then shut the window with an attitude.

Rosie chuckled saying, “Wow he must be really pissed off since we came in 10 minutes before they closed.” You widened your eyes sarcastically and laughed, “Yeah I think so too. That’s okay though, at least he didn’t notice you. That would’ve been a whole other ordeal. Anyways, here's your ice cream honey.”

Rosie smiled and grabbed the cone saying, “Thank you so much. I really don’t deserve you.” You smiled back at her, got all of your stuff organized, and then put your foot on the gas driving away into the city. She continued to shuffle in the seat trying to get comfortable, and finally took a small taste of her ice cream. Her smile grew even more after tasting the ice cream, and she started to do her little happy dance. You took a quick glance over at her, and laughed at how cute she was being.

On the way over towards the secret destination you were driving to, “Cooler Than Me” by Mike Posner started playing on the radio. It was a song both you and Rosie were very familiar with, since you both grew up in the early 2000s.

She quickly got excited upon hearing it and started singing the lyrics, “ If I could write you a song to make you fall in looove, I would already have you up under my arrm~” You giggling over how silly she was being by swaying her arms and singing with the music. Soon enough, you caught on and started singing along with her too.

By the time you both were done singing to the song, you were driving up a gravel road leading to the top of a hill. Rosie looked around confused, having no idea where she was at. So she turned to you for help.

“Hey, where are we at? I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

“Haha, you’ll see…”

You slowly drove the car up onto the top of the hill, and put it in park. There, through the windshield of the car, was a marvelous view that cast upon the whole city of Seoul. It was an absolutely beautiful site that made Rosie’s jaw stay open in shock. She had never seen anything quite like this before.

You could see all of the twinkling lights coming from the towers, all of the ant size cars driving down the highways, and all of the shining stars in the sky that were more visible tonight than they had been any other night. Your father used to take you to this spot during the early years of your childhood. It was a very special place to you, and you had only ever shared it with two people. Your mom, and Rosie.

Rosie couldn’t even believe what she was seeing right now. She had been living in Seoul for almost half of her life, and she still never knew there was even a spot like this. She was absolutely amazed as to how beautiful this sight was. I mean, how could you not be? Rosie wanted to see the view even more, so she placed Hank down in the back seat, slowly opened the door, and stepped out of the car in awe.

You watched her as she walked up even closer to the edge of the hill, and continued to look into the distance with amazement. She then turned around and signaled you to come on, waiting to share this moment with you. You obliged and got out of the car, jogging towards her.

Now standing next to her, you looked out into the distance admiring all of the lights gleaming in the vast city of Seoul. It was still as beautiful as it was during your childhood. But as happy as you were to see it, Rosie looked like something was bothering her still.

“What’s on your mind honey?” you said softly.

As she looked out in the distance, her smile faded a little bit and her expression was replaced with gratitude. “Well, I-I don’t know what to say. This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen. Even though this night was supposed to be one of the worst ones of my life, you made it the best one. I haven’t had this much fun in, gosh… I don’t even know how long. All I can think of right now is, thank you. Thank you so much, I don’t know what I would ever do without you. And, oh yeah, and I guess this ice cream is kinda good too.”

She started giggling over the little joke she made, and tried to continue eating the ice cream from earlier. At that moment, it almost seemed like she had completely forgotten what had happened a couple hours prior.

All the snide comments, the betrayal, losing her friends, it was all becoming a mild loss for her now. At that moment she had realized how much she really needed someone like you in her life. Rosie continued to laugh so hard that tears were forming in the corners of her eyes.

You smiled back at her and said “You don’t have to thank me Rosie. You are my girlfriend after all. I would do anything for you. Like I said, I’m always one call away if you need me.” Rosie’s laughter slowly settled, and she walked over to you to give you a warm hug. “But I do have to thank you somehow.”

As Rosie pulled away from the hug, and gave you a soft kiss on your lips, you were suddenly lifted up to cloud nine. She had kissed you many times before, but this kiss felt extra special. It was a kiss of gratitude, love, and compassion rolled all into one.

You stood back from her, feeling stunned, and tried to cover the growing smile forming on your lips. Along with your cheeks turning red, like you had just received your first kiss. Rosie giggled even more and took the perfect opportunity to tease you.

“Honey are you really blushing?! I have kissed you so many times, how could you be blushing now?”

You retorted back, “Whaaatt, I can’t help it when the hottest woman in Seoul is practically kissing me. You can’t blame me ya know…”

“Yeah true… Haha! Naur naur, I'm just kidding.”

“Oh shut up! Don’t make me take back what I just said.”

“Oh yeah? You won’t. I dare you!”

As the both of you continued to bicker and giggle like longtime best friends, the night had gone by a little bit faster than the both of you had realized. About an hour later, you both realized you had left Hank in the car after he started barking and whining continuously. He wasn’t in danger or anything, you both knew he was probably getting lonely waiting for the both of you to finish talking to each other.

So as soon as you heard him barking, you stopped laughing and said, “Oh shoot! I better get Hank, I bet the poor guy is getting lonely in there.” You then quickly jogged back over to the car, and picked him up out of the car seat, bringing him to where Rosie was standing.

While the both of you, including Hank, were looking into the incredible night view of Seoul, a little lightbulb popped into your head and you had a great idea to finish off the night. You jumped up onto the hood of your car and leaned your whole body back onto it, trying to make yourself comfortable.

Rosie laughed, “What are you doing?” You looked back at her and said, “I’m looking up at the stars silly. Here you should come try it too. The stars are really nice at this time of night.” You patted the spot next to you, intending for her to lay there. She shrugged her shoulders and mumbled, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to do it once.”

Rosie then placed Hank down next to her spot, and climbed up onto the car to lay back and stargaze with you. Exactly like the reaction from some time ago seeing the lit up city, she looked up at the sky in awe, with her mouth slightly open in amazement.

The sky was aglow with a visible canopy of shimmering stars, and the constellations were perfectly aligned making the sky look even more magical. “Wow..” she mumbled, “You really do have all sorts of tricks up your sleeve huh.” You smiled, loving how she was enjoying the view as much as you were.

“Yeah I guess I do. Wait, look up there, it’s the big dipper!”

“Oh look there’s the little dipper too!” Rosie shouted back, pointing up at the sky.

As the both of you were looking up at the sky, savoring the moment for what it was worth, the moon became very visible as the clouds started to drift away from it. It was a full moon. Rosie thought it was a cute coincidence. The moon was full just like how complete her life felt with you being in it. She looked back over towards you, and said, “I love you y/n.” With the stars reflecting off her eyes, making her look even more ethereal. You smiled and turned your head over towards her, “I love you too Rosie.”

The both of you continued to lay in comfortable silence, as the cool summer breeze drifted through the air, and not a single sound could be heard for miles. Rosie knew that after tonight, her whole perspective of you had changed. Not in a bad way of course, but in an even lovelier way.

You had done everything you could to make her smile again, and she really appreciated it. Not many people would go that distance, but now she definitely knew you would. Even though she had lost some “friends” of hers tonight, she gained something more important. Her unconditional love for you. Thanks to you, this would be one of her favorite memories to be shared for years to come. The love you both have for each other would become even stronger. And when she got back home, she could brag to the girls how cool you were too ;)

[painted-fanbird]

Vin hated filling her metalminds, which was a damn shame.

Truly, it was. Because Fruchemy and Allomancy had only existed together in one other person before Vin, and he hadn’t exactly left behind detailed records of what he was capable of before getting speared through the heart. Vin had looked. She’d asked Kelsier when he poured over documents written by The Lord Ruler, by the Obligators, and the odd Inquisitor. She’d skimmed over the manuscripts herself, as best she could anyway, she hated reading almost as much as filling her metalminds. It made her head hurt.

Which was its own damn shame! Not the reading making her head hurt part, that was fine, she didn’t have the patience for it anyway. It was the lack of information that was driving Vin crazy. What happened if you burned a metal and tapped a comparable metalmind? What would happen if you burned a metalmind? What if you did both at the same time?

Vin wanted to know.

She needed to know.

———

“Why not fill a metalmind and take your own notes?” Kelsier asked, looking up from yet another stack of documents as Vin peered not so subtly over his shoulder. He was hunting for his own answers, about the missing Atium and the parts of Allomancy The Lord Ruler had kept hidden.

Vin scowled. “My handwriting is terrible, I wouldn’t be able to read them. Besides, I’m too busy to fill any metalminds right now.”

“Too busy?” Kelsier laughed. “With what? We’re hardly doing anything strenuous right now.”

“I’m working on the puzzle Spook showed me.” Vin directed her scowl to the infernal tangle of string looped around her fingers. A cat’s cradle, Spook had called it. It had been a lot easier to solve when he was walking her through it. “So I’m busy.”

Kelsier raised his single eyebrow. “Then don’t fill anything that saps your mental strength. Fill pewter or steel or one of the other physical metalminds.”

Vin snorted a laugh. “That sounds like a good way to get myself killed. We’ve had so many assassins in the city lately.”

“It also sounds like a good way to find out how fast you could run between gates while burning pewter and tapping a steelmind,” Kelsier said with a smile. “Or to find out how much you can hear if you burned a tinmind.”

Vin paused. She wanted to know.

“One hour,” Kelsier said, catching Vin’s eye. “That’s really all you need to test something small tonight. I promise, nothing will happen to you while you fill your metalmind.”

One hour. That wasn’t so long, she could do that. Then she could find out what she could do.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

———

Kelsier had taught Vin two very important rules of Allomancy when he’d first trained her.

For every Push, there’s a Pull. Every action has a consequence.

And

Don’t get into a Pushing match with someone who weighs more than you.

Vin was about to break the second rule, though if her plan worked it wouldn’t be for very long.

She dropped from the rooftop, down on Kelsier below, Pushing on a spray of coins. As they started to fly, she stopped Pushing on all but one.

The instant she felt Kelsier’s counteracting Push touch the coin she had in her control, she tapped the ironmind she’d filled that afternoon.

Her feet cracked the cobblestone where she was standing, mist coiling around her limbs. With her weight now more than doubled, Vin outweighed Kelsier by a significant margin, and the single coin snapped back in his direction.

Kelsier darted out of the way, watching as the coin slammed into, and cracked, the wall behind him.

“That,” he said, approaching the coin alongside Vin as she hurried forward to inspect the wall. “Is going to pose a problem for a lot of people.”

Vin smiled as she plucked the coin from the small crater is had created in the stone. “That’s the idea,” she said. “No one would think they’d lose a Pushing match to me. It’ll be easier to bait them into it.”

Kelsier ruffled her hair. “I’m proud of you, Vin.”

“What?”

“I’m proud of you,” Kelsier repeated. “I know filling metalminds is hard for you, but you did and look at what you can do.” He gestures to the wall.

Vin eyed the wall, turning the now slightly bent coin over in her hand. Filling metalminds was nerve wracking, but she’d felt better with Kelsier nearby. And now that she’d had a proper taste of what she could do…

“I think I’d like to fill another one tomorrow.”

[theninjasanctuary]

Field notes from the trip, as written on the return flight:

A night at 4-star Citadines aparthotel at Les Halles cost very nearly the same as the one in cheapo Adagio Access near Bastille. The apartment at Citadines was easily twice as big, bigger than most Airbnbs I’ve rented, and well equipped (bath – a smallish one, but still; a balcony overlooking Fontaine des Innocents + another window with a view of the roofs of the Forum, dishwasher, kettle, toaster, microwave/grill and induction stovetop, would have been easy to cook full meals there), and if I had the budget for it/got someone else to pay for it, I’d stay there again. That being said, the floor was deathly cold; getting the shivers just thinking about it. And it didn’t have a dining table as such, but a generous desk and another fold-out chair in the hallway wardrobe (one of the two). No washer, but I’m thinking they probably have an in-house laundrette? The big room was a bit too dark at night, just wall sconces and a small table lamp on the desk, definitely not ideal for reading an actual book in bed. The bathroom vanity looked cheap to begin with and pretty tired, too, not luxurious.

The other 2 hotels were fine too, the room in Adagio Access had had a kitchen upgrade; the B&B Hotel thing had a tiny room, sparsely, if not stingily equipped (no soap by the sink; just a wall-mounted shower gel in the shower? No hand towels, just a bath towel per person?), but it was fresh-looking, clean and functional, and I slept like a log.

I had some terrible food (starving late one night and out of options, we ate at a Buffalo Grill, even the fries were bad) and some good too; found a restaurant called Le Lieu Dit that I would be happy to visit again. Ate on the go a lot, and I’m fed up with sandwichs and pastries for a while, I think. Mostly, I’m glad that my knees held up, and I didn’t get a cold. Can’t say the same for the boyf, and I might yet get what he’s got, but oh well.

Travelling part was uneventful, managed to not get caught up in strikes and thanks to the hotel staff, got a taxi to the train station during a high-demand morning station rush on Sunday. However, Google Maps is not great for directions in Paris. It routinely underestimated travel times, suggested getting off the bus in the wrong place, and we would have missed our TGV if it wasn’t for helpful bystanders.

Visited the Paris embassy on business (have been to London, Berlin, Brussels and Paris now, and also have had dinner in a New York sushi restaurant with the consul stationed there; this was never a goal in itself, it has just happened).

Didn’t shop much, a bit of skincare repurchases (Furterer shampoo, Biotherm SOS spray, Cattier hand cream, etc.), and a Uniqlo ULD collarless jacket, because it looked right on my most basic of asses. Ofc it is soft pink, too, because that too tends to look right on me. The plan is to wear it to the office under looser and thinner wool coats, and it’ll help putting up with the office temperature that’s been lowered as a cost-saving measure. Got an impressive amount of tea, too, Chinese and Taiwanese imports from Tang Frères and Twinings teabags in varieties probably intended for the French market, as I haven’t seen them anywhere else. Tuiles d’amandes seem to be having a moment, stocked up on those and some Bonne Maman madeleines and whatnot too.

As for souvenirs, got some cute af Ghibli chopsticks. Haven’t bought sushi in a while for reasons of being broke though. Have to pay the bills and see where I’m at. Anyway, the plan for tomorrow is to stay at home, maybe a quick run for groceries, and pet the cat. He has coped ok without us, but appears to be waiting for someone (he’s very alert to door-opening sounds, but we share a hallway door with the neighbours, so there’s a lot of disappointment).

[norrisxfewtrell]

Mini Norris | Lando Norris

Request: Can I ask for one where you and Lando have a child that the public don't know of, and you are seen in the paddock with your child. And it's one of Lando’s big wins with McLaren and he celebrated with you both publicly. If you get what I am going for.

A/N: This was written before the 2023 British Grand Prix.

You didn’t plan to nor expected to get pregnant being so young, both Lando and you still not having turned 20, his Formula 1 career was just beginning and you were still in school; to say you were terrified was an understatement. At first you didn’t have to make much of an effort to hide it since you had gotten pregnant a few months before the end of the 2019 season, both Lando and you getting pretty concerned about maintaining your little one’s existence a secret for as long as you could, you had only told both of your families and some very close friends. However, you soon found that it wasn’t that bad when COVID hit. Sure, it was terrible that the F1 season had to be canceled and the situation around the world was terrifying not knowing when the pandemic would end, but at the same time you and Lando got to spend your whole pregnancy as well as your baby’s first few months completely to yourselves, enjoying it to the max. Now it was finally the time little Liam would get to walk around the paddock, the garage, and most importantly get to see his daddy in action on track.

You make it to the circuit through an entrance that wasn’t very crowded with photographers, Charlotte meeting you there and letting you in without anyone noticing, holding little Liam’s hand in yours as you walked towards the motorhomes. You walked into Lando’s driver room, letting out a sigh of relief as you were finally behind closed doors “You made it!” Lando says as he rushes to you, pecking your lips before thanking Charlotte as she closes the door and leaves “Daddy, Daddy! When do you race?” Liam asks Lando desperately as Lando started getting ready for the race “In a bit bud, I still have to get ready and do a few things with Jon before we go to the garage!” Lando answers as he changes into his race wear. You hear a knock on the door “It’s me!” Jon calls out before the door opens “Hey little man! You’ve finally come to a race! (Y/N), always good to see you.” he says as he quickly hugs you and ruffles Liam’s hair a bit. You figured it would be best to leave Lando and Jon to do what they had to do before the race so Lando would be in the right headspace and warmed up in time for the race without distractions “Okay baby, come on, let’s go see if we can find aunt Isa to say hi before the race.” You tell Liam before walking over to Lando “Leave him here with us! It’ll be perfect to avoid the photographers for a while longer and you can also hang out with Isa without having to look out for him.” Lando tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist and you place your hands on his chest “Are you sure? He might be a distraction with how excited he is.” You ask “Really love, it’s fine. I’ll call you before we leave for the garage and we’ll meet you here, go.” He says and you sigh, smiling and nodding as you place one last kiss on his lips before muttering a quick “Okay.” You walk over to Liam who was sitting on the couch “Now, you be a good boy, okay? You’re staying here with Daddy and Jon for a bit and I’ll see you later.” You tell Liam “Yes, mummy.” He says and you peck his forehead before getting your purse and leaving.

You walk into the Ferrari hospitality “(Y/N)!” You see Isa wave at you from one of the tables and you quickly make your way to her, hugging her “Ugh I missed you so much!” you say “I missed you too. So, did you guys decide on bringing Liam?” She asks as you both sit down “Yeah! He’s back at the room with Lando and Jon, we wanted to wait a bit before he’s completely exposed to the cameras and stuff.” You say as she nods understandingly. You catch up with her for a while longer until you get a call from Lando saying it’s almost time to go to the garage and that you should go to them, you say goodbye to Isa, making plans to see her later and you walk away to get to your boys.

You walk to the garage, one hand in Lando’s, his other occupied by Liam’s. He already knew everyone in the garage but had never actually been in it, seeing the action of it all; Lando had taken him along sometimes when he had to go to the factory. You took some pictures of Liam in Lando’s car, Lando making sure Liam didn’t touch anything he wasn’t supposed to and you felt your heart flutter like it never had before while looking at both of your boys finally enjoying what they both loved most and the love in Lando’s eyes as he saw his little boy in his car. Soon it was race time, you held Liam in your lap so he could see the screens and everything going around clearly.

The race starts with Lando in P4 and he quickly overtakes Max in the first corners, leaving Lewis and George in front of him. A while later there were only 7 laps left, he was two seconds behind Lewis and four behind George, it was all going to come down to the last laps. Lando was quick to catch up to Lewis, both of them fighting for P2 through a few turns until Lewis finally makes a mistake and Lando wins the position quickly speeding away to get to George. 2 laps to go, he’s a second behind George and you feel like your heart is going to explode in your chest at any moment. During the last lap Lando is just behind George as they approach Copse corner, Lando taking the outside right at the last chance and is amazingly able to overtake George, making the whole garage burst in cheers and screams, Liam getting slightly scared by the commotion until you quickly explained what happened and he starts cheering as well.

Lando crosses the line and everyone cheers for him, Zak motions for you to go over to the pit wall, he hands you a pair of headphones and tells you Lando can hear you “You did it Lando! You won! You freaking won! We are so so proud of you, we love you!” you yell at him, barely holding in your tears “I love you both so much! This is for both of you, we did it baby!” He yells through screams and giggles of excitement. He arrives at parc fermé and jumps out of the car, going straight towards you and Liam, hugging you both with so much force you thought your back was going to break but you really couldn’t care less at the moment “I love you I love you I love you both so much! I would have never been able to do this without you!” You hear Lando yell through his helmet and you can only smile back as he holds Liam in his arms for a bit before jumping into the team’s arms.

Just as the podium ceremony was about to start you see Lando run back towards you, his helmet off so you could actually see his smile now, he quickly gestures for you to hand Liam over to him and you do, he runs back to the podium entrance just as they are about to announce him as the race winner and he walks on to the podium proudly with his little boy in his arms. That was the moment you could no longer hold in your tears, looking up at the love of your life and your baby standing on the podium at Lando’s home race; you couldn’t ask for more.

[thedreamlessnights]

Ciao!I saw you're taking request and I was wondering if you're up for a little ""challenge""

•Reader teaching how to bake to Jayce and Viktor.

*Insert Gordon Ramsay meme*

Reader is so patient and gentle with Viktor [since they have a crush on him] and go full "you heccing donkey" towards Jayce [affectionately]•

You're free to change anything that makes you unconfortable or can ease the prompt.I am aware I have weird ideas.

Take your time and have a lovely day!

This was such a cute idea, and I had a great time writing it! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy!

How sweet a kiss can be | Viktor x gn!Reader | 1.8k | SFW

There’s a science to baking, as you like to say. There’s no denying that, even with your messy understanding of chemistry. You don’t need to know the law of conservation of mass to know that the chemical reaction of yeast and warm water at exactly the right range of temperature produces a nicely risen loaf of bread, or that the ratio of baking soda in a batter affects the texture of a muffin.

Everything is about ratios, perfect temperatures, and the right conditions. It seems so simple to you after all these years, applying it as long as you can remember. Judging from the way things are going in this kitchen, however, it seems that baking is the only science you’ll understand better than Jayce or Viktor ever will.

Jayce has flour on his nose and in his hair, and Viktor’s frown has become permanent as his frosting only seems to get thicker and thicker. At this point, it could paste together bricks.

“Try adding more cream,” you tell him, face going warm when he meets your eyes. “Maybe a tablespoon or two. There’s just a bit too much powdered sugar.”

“But I measured it exactly like it said,” he laments. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.” Sighing in frustration, he wipes his hands on a towel and stares down at the recipe. “It’s gritty,” he says. “Mine doesn’t look the way yours usually looks.”

“Did you sift the sugar?” you ask, looking down on it. You’d been so focused on your own work, you hadn’t even realized that the two of them might need help.

“Sift… it?” Viktor asks, looking between you and the paper. “Why didn’t it tell us to do that?”

“I think it’s because it’s pretty common to sift powdered sugar,” you say, pulling the recipe toward you. “You’re right, though, they should have added it as a step. If you packed down the sugar while measuring it, that could have affected the texture, too.”

Viktor curses under his breath, reaching for the cream. You try not to laugh at his despair - it isn’t so terrible. You’ve done much worse, over the years. Undercooked soufflés, rock hard cupcakes, chewy croissants.

“I give up,” Jayce groans, pushing the batter he’s been stirring away from him. “I don’t know what I did, but it isn’t right.”

“It can’t be that bad,” you say, leaning in to take a look.

Except… it can. It absolutely can. There’s a great deal of lumps that shouldn’t be there, and the batter is incredibly thick, making the lumps even worse.

“It’s… not that bad,” you say, your lip quivering as you try to keep from smiling. “I’m sure we can fix it.”

“You’re a shitty liar, you know that?” Jayce asks, shaking his head. “This is a disaster. It looks like cement. How did it come out grey?”

“Just add more milk,” you say, barely keeping a straight face. Who knew that the two of them would be bad in the kitchen, when Jayce is an especially good cook? Is baking really so different?

Despite the reservation written clear on his face, Jayce grabs more milk and dumps some in, attempting to stir it. It won’t even mix in. It sits at the edge of the mixture, somehow congealing, and Jayce looks completely distraught.

“It’s fine. The oven will help,” you say quickly, turning away so that he won’t see you break. “It’ll taste fine once it’s been baked.” Your ribs feel like they’re cracking, trying to keep from laughing.

“Oh, really?” Jayce asks, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “The oven will fix it?”

Looking you dead in the eyes, he scoops some of the batter on a spoon. “Taste this. Tell me how much you like it.”

Despite your hesitation, you take it from him and pop it into your mouth, thinking you’re prepared for whatever horrors face you. Somehow, it’s so much worse than you ever could have imagined. It fills your mouth with an acrid, sour flavor, coats your tongue with the texture of peanut butter, and sticks to the roof of your mouth.

“Delicious,” you whisper, taking a sip of water to wash it down. How you manage to swallow it with a straight face, you’ve no idea.

For a moment, you think you’ve gotten away with the lie, but it's no use. As soon as you meet Jayce’s eyes, any sense of composure you have dissolves, like sugar melting into water. The laughter comes on strong and out of nowhere, gasps that fill your eyes with tears, spasms that rob you of your breath. You keep trying to apologize - to explain that you’re not meaning to be rude, but every time you speak it only makes you laugh even harder. Eventually, you’re grasping the counter just to stay upright.

Luckily, they seem good-humored about it. Jayce is laughing with you and Viktor is chuckling, leaning against the counter.

“This is, eh… not as easy as I thought,” Viktor confesses. “Had I been aware of the difficulties, I might have appreciated your pastries all the more.”

Slowly pushing yourself upright, you wipe tears from your eyes and try to subdue the leftover laughs that threaten to push up from your chest.

“You boys just need practice,” you manage, finally calming yourself. “I’ve made mistakes too, you know. Don’t tell me you don’t remember the time my yeast didn’t rise, and I gave you the scraps of my completely unrisen bread?”

“That was different,” Jayce argues. “That still tasted good.”

“Who says yours won’t?”

“You, a minute ago when you tasted it,” Jayce says. “I don’t think there’s any saving it.”

You give in, laughing a little and shrugging. “Okay. You’re right. You fucked up the recipe - really bad. Who cares? We’ll restart, and make it right this time. It’ll taste amazing.”

“And my frosting?” Viktor asks, tilting the bowl toward you. “Is it redeemable?”

With his addition of more cream, it already looks much better than it’d looked earlier. When you dip a spoon in to taste it, you find that it’s less grainy, too, and you don’t have to lie about it tasting good this time.

“It’s delicious, Viktor,” you say. “More than redeemable.”

He gives you a warm smile, which has butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, taking a seat. “I’d always hoped to outperform Jayce in the kitchen.”

Jayce huffs, distracted as he scoops his batter into the trash. “I wouldn’t talk yet. We’re remaking this, you know.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will be much better,” Viktor says. “So long as you don’t touch it.”

Two hours later, the two of you sit around the table, reaping the benefits of your hard work. The batter the three of you had worked together to remake came out very nice, baking beautifully in the oven. With Viktor’s frosting, it had been perfect - beautiful and fluffy, sitting on top of the cupcakes, creamy and light.

“Okay,” Jayce says after he takes a bite. “That was worth it. I’m never doing it again, but it was worth it.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, punching his arm playfully. “You don’t like bonding with us?”

“I can do that in the lab. You know, without messing things up.”

“Right. Like that time you set your desk on fire?”

He just takes another bite, rolling his eyes. “Shut up,” he says through a mouthful of cupcake.

You turn your attention to Viktor, who has made his way through three cupcakes in the time you’d talked to Jayce.

“Worth it?” you ask, hoping you don’t sound entirely desperate for his approval.

You’d really only started baking again for him. It’s true, as time went on you’d found your passion again outside of him, but using éclairs or lemon bars or anything else as an excuse to talk to him had seemed the easiest option at the time.

When he smiles at you and nods, warmth slowly flows from your chest to the rest of your body.

“You have a talent for these things,” he says. “Practice or not. I, eh - have tried many alternatives to your treats, but nothing compares. Your work is something special.”

Your cheeks go hot, and you’re fighting to meet his eyes. “Thank you, but I had your help today. Don’t discount yourselves.”

Viktor frowns, and you know he disagrees, but he doesn’t press it further. Instead, he changes the subject. “That downtown storefront is still for sale, you know. Weren’t you talking about opening a bakery?”

“Oh!” You hadn’t known he’d remembered that - you’d only told him after a couple too many drinks, and he’d been tipsy too, his cheeks flushed from the wine. “I - maybe.”

“You should,” Viktor prompts. “I’ll be a regular customer. I’ll tell everyone I know to try your pastries.”

“Me too,” Jayce chimes in, working on another cupcake. The treats are nearly gone now. Viktor narrows his eyes at Jayce, taking two and placing them to the side. He must be saving them for later.

“I’ll think about it,” you say.

Once the kitchen has been cleaned up, the three of you walk home, the rest of the cupcakes packed up in boxes for you all. Jayce’s house is first on the way, and he bids you all goodbye as he goes inside, downing another cupcake with a cheeky grin on his face.

That leaves you and Viktor. Alone.

“I meant it, you know,” Viktor says softly. “About the bakery. I truly think you would be successful.”

“I think I’m going to do it,” you confess, anxiously fidgeting with your fingers. “I’ve been putting money aside for this, and it’s been my dream for a long time, now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You’ve arrived at Viktor’s apartment, and the two of you come to a halt in front of it, though neither of you seem very willing to leave.

“I wanted to thank you,” you blurt, the words you’ve been trying to say for months finally leaving you in a rushed bundle. “You’ve really inspired me, lately, and I just - I don’t think I’d be where I am now without you. I appreciate it.”

Viktor’s eyebrows raise, and he smiles ever so slightly. “You’re just as inspiring to me,” he says. “If I’m honest, you’ve become… a muse, of sorts. I can only hope to impress you.”

“You have.”

Before you can stop yourself, you find yourself leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, and his cheeks flush a deep pink.

“I’d better go,” you say, before you can do anything else, but you find that his hand has wrapped around your wrist.

“Wait, I - might I beg you not to go?” Viktor says. At your shocked silence, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I have a better alternative.” His words are soft now, his lips next to your ear.

“What’s that?” you ask, your words shaky. He’s so close to you now, his grip on you so gentle and warm, that you can barely keep yourself together.

“From the moment I’ve met you, I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he breathes. “What you did just now… it made me think that I may have a chance of that happening. May I?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words, then races in your chest like it’s trying to break free of your ribcage.

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Yes, I’d like that.”

When he leans in to kiss you, he tastes sweeter than any treat you’ve ever made.

tags: @modernamilf @mischievous-piltovian

[inglourious-imagines]

Yes, sir. (Joe Toye x Male!Reader)

Requested by: @gaypiratesandangels - Heyaa, I just started watching band of brothers again and felt like requesting something 😌 I was thinking reader with he/him pronouns and prompt n⁰21 with Toye :)) could be nsfw if you're comfortable, (dominant reader) no pressure at all ❤️ And thank you for writing band of brothers fics it really lights my day :)

Prompt: 21 - I wanna see how you lose control.

Summary: George challenges you to tease Joe because little does he know that the two of you need to get over yourselves and finally admit the mutual affection.

Warnings: none, just some swearing (nothing too much)

Author’s Note: Took me ages to write this, as usual, and I’m so sorry! To be honest, I was really struggling with this request, cause I’ve never written for Toye and damn, was it hard. This is not nsfw, I don’t trust myself enough to write it haha, but there is some implied stuff at the end so feel free to let your imagination go wild! Thank you so much for your kind words!!!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars

Masterlist, Taglist, Prompt List Links can be found in the bio.

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“Give me a few days of peace in your arms – I need it terribly. I’m ragged, worn, exhausted- after that, I can face the world.” – Henry Miller

 

Earning those jump wings was one of the hardest things Y/N ever had to do. Undergoing the drill under Sobel, putting up with Sobel’s poor leadership skills, having to endure all the pain, sweat and blood so that it could all come down to this: being a paratrooper. Finally. It was in that year of 1944 when these thoughts were running through Y/N’s mind; what he didn’t know was that worse times were to come. Normandy, Market Garden, Bastogne, the run to Berlin. However, none of these future experiences Y/N was yet to endure were plaguing his mind and he was fully enjoying himself amongst other paratroopers, fellow soldiers, as well as his brothers.

The night proceeded; Y/N was laughing hard with Lewis Nixon in the corner of the pub. He befriended the officer during his early days in Toccoa, quite accidentally it must be said, when he was looking for some food in the kitchen at 3 in the morning and he found Nixon getting drunk in said place. From then on, the two of them were nearly inseparable.

Being friends with Lewis Nixon had many perks. One of them was the never-ending stream of alcohol coming Y/N’s way during the celebrations so he was fairly drunk, more than most of the men in the pub, but not so much that he would not remember a single thing in the morning.

The two of them were just discussing the reason behind Winters’ non-drinking attitude, when George Luz stumbled in front of them, his cheeks flushed from the amount of alcohol in his body, as he grinned at them. “Might I steal Y/N for just a moment, sir?” Hiccup. “It’ll only be a minute. Well, depends on how this thing goes.” Hiccup and a mischievous wink.

Nixon just shook his head in amusement. “Of course, Private.” It never stopped astonishing Y/N throughout the years, how Lewis was still able to lead a meaningful conversation without a single sign of alcohol.

Y/N got up from his chair, the world swayed for a moment, but as he steadied himself against George’s shoulder, it was all fine again.

“Fuck you, Nix.” he threw the remark without the need to turn his head because he very well knew Lewis was about to make a snarky comment about him not being able to hold his liquor. The officer’s laugh got lost as he and Luz made their way across the pub to the bar.

“So,” George said in a singing voice, a hint of mischief tinted his voice, “I’ve got a challenge for you.”

Y/N looked at his friend in disbelief, but it quickly turned into amusement, because what else could he expect from George Luz? “What kind of challenge?”

Y/N was careful to get as much information about Luz’s ridiculous proposals as possible, because the last time he agreed to one of his bets, he ended up with three-week latrine duty from Sobel.

George smiled. “See Toye at the bar? If you get him all riled up, all your drinks are on me.”

Y/N did not know what he expected but it surely wasn’t this. It sounded easy, perhaps way too easy, to just talk to a person in a certain way. Then he imagined the situation – actually walking up to Toye, teasing him, God flirting even, and suddenly the bet didn’t sound all that comfortable. And George knew it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Y/N breathed out, “what kind of a challenge is that?”

“The best one I’ve thought of so far.” Luz grinned at him, puffing his chest. “So you’re up to it?”

It took him too long to answer but Y/N knew he simply couldn’t refuse a chance like that. If things go wrong, he can always blame it on George and his bet and things can go back to normal and if things go well, then…  actually, he had no idea what would happen then.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Luz.”

- - -

Striking up a conversation with Joe Toye wasn’t the hard part, despite feeling all flushed and nervous. But taking the conversation to another level was the real obstacle. Y/N felt his hands getting all clammy, his throat dry; his nervousness was getting the best of him.

Just get over yourself, goddamn it.

He moved his stool closer to Joe’s. Their legs were nearly touching and he was very well aware of that.

George drafted another beer and passed it on the counter towards them. Y/N quickly grabbed it and placed it in front of Joe, so it seemed it was from him.

Toye laughed in the sweet way of his Y/N secretly loved and he wished he could get drunk solely on the sound. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Y/L/N?”

Y/N didn’t know what made him say the next thing, and then, there was no way back. “What if I am?”

Joe turned to him. “Then you’re doing a pretty good job but you still need to try a bit harder.”

Y/N smirked, feeling confident all of a sudden (all the alcohol that Lewis poured into him during the evening was finally kicking in). “Harder you say?” he said as he brushed his leg against Toye’s.

Joe was lost for words for a moment there, his cheeks turning another shade of red, as he stared at Y/N. But then he blinked, and the usual cocky Joe Toye was back.

“Oh, c’mon.” Y/N laughed, “live a little.” He leaned closer to his comrade, their breaths intertwining, “I wanna see how you lose control.”

Joe simply grinned. “Sweet Y/N, you don’t wanna see me lose control here.”

This was it. And he was enjoying every second of it. “Then show the way, Private.” It wasn’t a request but rather an order.

“Yes, sir.” was all Joe was able to get out of himself as he stumbled on his chair while trying to get up.

Just as the two of them was exiting the pub, Y/N managed to turn around and catch George’s gaze and wink. He knew he won but probably something way better than a bet.

[samstree]

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

 ~~

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

 ~~

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

~~

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[the-bau-quinjet]

Seven Drinks

Bucky x f!reader

Summary: There's a reason Y/N has never had more than 3 drinks around the other avengers, and they're about to find out.

Warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide, panic attacks, angst (don't worry there's fluff too)

Word Count: 4322

a/n: This is inspired by that episode of Brooklyn 99 with 6 drink Amy (I adopted that concept!) and also Halsey's album Manic. :) I hope you like it. Anything in bold is a lyric from one of the songs on the album!

Please let me know if I messed up the trigger warning tags! I've never written anything like this before, so I just want to make sure I do it right.

Masterlist

"We're having a party tonight." Tony's announcement was met with the usual groans of annoyance at having to schmooze with the typical socialites that attended Tony's party. "You know, you are so ungrateful sometimes. here I am trying to throw you a party, and you're complaining!"

"Tony, we all appreciate the effort you go to, but- at least speaking for me- I don't like people." Y/N's response was effortless, swiftly calming Tony and explaining the reactions.

"That is why-" Tony stuttered when he actually registered the words you said. "That doesn't sound like you at all. And besides, this is a party for just us. It'll be more like team building, but without any pre-planned activities. No "smarmy, rich people" to deal with." He directed his last sentence at Bucky, Steve, and Sam.

The team actually seemed excited at the prospect, albeit skeptical of Tony's motivations.

Unsurprisingly, Nat worked up the courage to question him on it first, "what's the catch?"

"No catch. Just friends, food, and lots of alcohol." His grin quickly shifted into a smirk as the entire room turned to look at you.

You groaned slightly, not wanting all the attention. "Look, there is a reason I cap myself at 3 drinks." Holding up one finger, you started to explain, "One drink Y/N is barely any different from my sober self."

Wanda quickly cut you off, "not true! You get louder." She smirked, happy to have added that tidbit of information.

"Fine." With a laugh, you admitted she was right. "I might get the tiniest bit louder." You held up a second finger to continue your explanation, but were once again cut off.

"It's not a bad thing. It's just your happy, bubbly, and slightly louder than normal personality shining through!" Nat added, seeing an opportunity to tease you for being so positive all the time.

"Thanks Nat. Anyway," emphasizing the rudeness of being interrupted twice, you continued, "two drink Y/N is more touchy feely than normal. Not in a creepy way though!"

"I love two drink Y/N. She gives the best hugs!" Thor eagerly added to the conversation, glad to have dropped by when he did.

"Thanks Thor." With a small smile in his direction, you held up a third finger. "Three drink Y/N is the perfect amount of just past tipsy to have fun without doing anything extremely embarrassing. It makes the most sense to stop there." You finished her little speech with your typical smile and a resolute nod of your head.

"Seriously, you need to relax. Just let loose this one time!" Sam tried to encourage you. With the eyes of nearly every avenger set on you, your resolve didn't last very long.

"Fine! Maybe I'll have a fourth drink." You were met with cheers as you rose from your spot on the couch, trying to prepare for the night that was to come.

--

As soon as you stepped off the elevator, you had a drink in your hand. Clearly your friends were going to make sure you got a fourth drink. even Steve seemed excited when he saw you, although his golden boy personality didn't disappear completely.

"You sure about this? I don't want you to feel pressured!" Bucky nodded, weirdly enthusiastically, before adding, "Yeah doll, don't drink more than you want to."

"You two are too sweet. Sam's right, but don't tell him I said that." You winked at the two super soldiers, emphasizing the joke. "I should let myself relax sometimes. I'm in a safe place, with friends who won't let anything happen to me. What could a few more drinks really do?" You couldn't help but smile at how true that was. You were surrounded by people who care about you.

"Oh, so now it's a few more drinks? What are we talking here, six drink Y/N? Seven?" Bucky teased.

"You'll have to wait and see, Ducky." You teased right back, knowing how flustered he got at the pet name. Steve laughed at his friend as you walked away, ready for your second drink.

--

Before long, you had your fourth drink in your hand. It was slightly odd how literally everyone was staring at you, but your were three drink Y/N at the time, so you were drunk enough not to care.

You downed the fourth drink, unprepared for the consequences.

"So, Y/N... how do you feel?" Clint braved the waters, everyone eagerly awaiting your reaction.

"That is so nice of you to ask! I feel great! I don't think I've ever been this happy." You jumped up and down, hugging Clint with a huge smile on your face.

"How did you get even happier?" Tony chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"Do you not like it?" Like a switch had been flipped, you were nearly crying.

"What?! No!" Tony was so taken aback at the tears pooling in your eyes, he froze, unsure how to fix it. He looked around the room for help, but everyone else was just as shocked as him.

"I'll fix it!" You were at the bar, fixing another drink before anyone fully comprehended your mood swing.

You walked back up to the group, sipping from your fifth drink as if nothing happened. "What?" You questioned the odd looks, but before receiving an answer you squealed, again jumping up and down. "Let's dance!" You turned around, ready to move to the more open area before looking back over your shoulder, "Wanda! Nat! Pepper! Come on!"

The women shared a look, ultimately shrugging before joining you on the makeshift dance floor.

-

"Bucky, you've been staring at her for 20 straight minutes. When are you finally gonna talk to her?" Steve couldn't help but pester him about his feelings.

"I can't help it. I've never seen her dance so much. I mean, I know she's always happy, but this is a whole new level." He didn't take his eyes off of you, even when he was responding. "I can't tell her tonight, though. This is the most she's had to drink in years."

He watched as you moved back over to the bar, needing another drink after dancing so much.

"Here we go, six drink Y/N." Bucky gestured to the bar. Steve shook his head, but allowed the change of topic.

-

About five minutes after your sixth drink, you were somehow bounding around with even more energy. You were nearly running around the room, trying to talk to everyone at once.

"Ducky! Have I ever told you I took gymnastics lessons for 7 years when I was younger?" You were bouncing with pent up energy, excited to be sharing more information about yourself.

"No, you've actually never mentioned that." He smiled, enraptured by your childlike enthusiasm, so enraptured that he didn't notice the mischief in your eyes.

"Well, I did! Watch this." You handed a confused Bucky your now empty glass, turning and throwing your arms up. Bucky realized two late what was happening, and with both yours and his glasses in his hands, he couldn't physically stop you.

"Y/N, wait!" His shout had everyone turn and look as you flawlessly executed two cartwheels in a row.

Bucky would swear your smile got even bigger as you turned around to look at him again.

"Normally I can do more, but" you hiccuped, then lowered your voice to a really terrible whisper, "I'm a little drunk." You leaned into him, laughing as if you just told a joke.

Wanda walked up to you with a seventh drink, hoping seven drink Y/N had a little less energy, but happy to see you having so much fun. "Here ya go! One more of your favorites, just like you asked."

"Thank youuuuuu!" You shifted to hug Wanda, leaving Bucky to miss your added warmth.

-

You sipped your seventh drink slower than the rest, quickly running out of energy. Sliding the empty glass across the bar, you slipped out of the party unnoticed, making your way to the kitchen for some pickles- your favorite drunk food.

Your seventh drink hit you just after you opened the pickles. Gone was the happy, bubbly persona you showed the world. The mask slipped away, leaving you alone to contemplate your life choices.

You made your way to to the lounge just outside of the kitchen, choosing to lay on the floor behind the couch and stare out of the large floor to ceiling windows.

-

"Where's Y/N?" Bucky glanced around the room, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Huh? Oh, she said she wanted a snack." A very drunk Wanda turned to look at where the food was set up, scrunching her face in confusion when she couldn't find you. "Weird. Maybe she went to the bathroom?"

Bucky, having noticed your absence 8 minutes ago, didn't think you left for a bathroom break. "Maybe." Plus, you always took the girls to the bathroom with you. His eyes flitted about the room, taking one more glance before deciding to go look for you.

He decided to head for the kitchen since Wanda said you wanted a snack. He laughed at the open jar of pickles, knowing you at least passed through this room. He put the pickles away before popping his head into the lounge area.

"Y/N?" He called out, figuring this was the most likely location for you to end up.

You hummed in response, not moving from your spot on the floor. Bucky walked further into the room, slightly confused as to why he could hear you but not see you. That is, until he realized you were laying on the floor behind the couch.

"Why are you on the floor?" He smiled when he found you.

"I'm just looking at the sky." Your voice held a melancholy air as it floated through the room. Bucky's smile faltered, not used to hearing you sad. In the three years he's known you, he's only ever seen you sad because of a movie or tv show. Otherwise, you were quite literally always happy.

"Why-" he faltered, unsure how to check on you. "Is everything okay?" he nearly choked the words out, feeling slightly stressed at your sudden gloominess.

"Yeah." You took a deep breath, slowly letting it out in a deep sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... I don't know." You sigh again, still looking at the sky.

Bucky chances another question, wanting to get you talking since you're acting so off. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel... so sorry." You words were so soft that Bucky could barely hear them.

"Sorry?" He tried to hide his confusion, matching your soft tone as he sat down a few feet away from you. "About what doll?"

"Just... because I feel so sad." Tears pooled in your eyes, but you didn't stop staring at the sky.

"What are you sad about?" It's taking everything in him for Bucky not to hold you right now. He doesn't want to make you even more upset, especially because he's never seen you like this.

"No one around me knows who I am..." He watched as a tear rolled down your cheek, shining in the light from the moon.

Bucky moves closer, just close enough for him to reach out and hold your hand. You squeeze it, instant relief flooding through him that he hasn't crossed any boundaries.

He goes to speak, but you cut him off. "I'm not breaking. I won't take it. And I won't ever feel this way again." Your voice is harder, as if your angry with yourself.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay to have feelings. You're allowed to feel like this. Don't push it away. Talk to me. Why don't you think anyone knows who you are? We're all here for you, Y/N." He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, trying to convey how serious he is.

You let out a dry laugh, wiping the the tears from your cheek. "My self preservation..." Bucky can tell there's more to, choosing to wait for you to continue. "All of my reservations..." You sigh again, sitting up, you scoot closer until you can lean your forehead against his shoulder. "I bottle it up. I'm my own biggest enemy." You let out another dry laugh, shaking your head without moving it from its resting place on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky wraps his arm around you and leans his cheek against your head. "Take your time. You can talk to me." He whispered, trying to keep you talking without getting mad at yourself again.

"Well, I'd like to tell you that my sky is not blue, it's violent rain." The sounds of your sniffles break his heart. "I just pretend everything's fine because that's what I had to do when I was younger." Rather then interrupting, Bucky continues to rub small circles on your hand and your back, encouraging you to continue when you're ready. "Can I tell you a story? I... I think it'll help explain some of it."

"Of course. Anything you need, doll." He curses himself for the pet name, not wanting you to think he's joking. He just can't help it when it comes to you.

"Thank you, ducky." You chuckle, but your words are just as sincere as his. "You know I have two sisters, and I love them with all my heart, but sometimes growing up with them was hard. My older sister, she put so much pressure on herself to succeed. And, she did. She was so good at everything she did, that I felt like I had to be just as perfect.

With my younger sister, it was like it was effortless. She put just as much, if not more pressure on herself. but, she could do anything she tried to, with almost no learning curve. I always felt this crazy amount of pressure to be just as good.

My parents, they didn't really help with that. I mean, they were so supportive and I'm so grateful to them, but it was a lot of pressure. The summer between my junior and senior year of college, I wanted to get an internship. Ya know, to get some experience. It would set me up better for getting a job after graduation.

I spent months looking and applying, but nothing was working out. So, I went home for the summer. My mom would come home everyday and ask me if I got a job yet.

I spent nearly every waking hour looking for a job, even just a part time one for the summer. So one day, when we sat down for dinner and she asked if I got a job yet..."

Bucky could feel how tense you were telling this story, but he knew you needed to get it out.

"I told her, 'no, not yet' and she just seemed so disappointed. She asked if I was even applying and I snapped.

I yelled at her, something that had never really happened before. I told her I was trying. I was doing everything I could. She yelled at me for yelling and said it wasn't unreasonable to ask for updates.

I yelled right back. I kept saying I spend all day everyday trying and just when I finally get a break, she walks in and brings it all up again. I was stressed enough without her constant reminders.

I ended up running away from the table, in tears. I hid in the bathroom, there... there was a pair of scissors on the counter and I really thought about killing myself that day."

The tears are pouring out of you at this point. Bucky threw caution to the wind. He picked you up, maneuvering you to sit across his lap and lean your head on his chest. He kept rubbing circles into your back, murmuring words of encouragement.

"My younger sister tried to check on me, but I wouldn't open the door. My mom stomped down the hallway to her bedroom. I was full on having a panic attack in the hallway bathroom. I think I stayed in there for an hour before I went back to the dinner table.

My dad was in the kitchen. He put my plate in the microwave to heat up dinner for me. I ate through near constant tears, it only got worse every time he tried to ask me what happened. Why I snapped like that.

I wanted to apologize to my mom for yelling, so after I ate I went to her room. I knocked, and when she told me to come in I opened the door. I just remember her looking so angry.

I apologized. I told her I was sorry for yelling. She said something about not being unreasonable again. I cried again. When she asked what was wrong, I told her I was scared.

I couldn't put it into words though, so when she asked me 'of what?' I just shrugged. Then, she asked me if I was on my period.

God. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell at her again, To make her understand 'I only wanna die some days. But if I decide to break, who will fill the empty space?' I decided that day that I would never try to tell anyone how I actually felt."

Bucky holds you as you cry. You're not sure how long it's been when you can finally breathe enough to talk again.

"I just, so many people have bigger problems then me. I grew up in a loving household. I went to college and made friends. I got a job after I graduated. So why am I so sad sometimes? I just wanna scream but what’s the use? At night, I lay awake and I stare at the door, I just can’t take it no more."

Bucky continues comforting you when he speaks again. "Just because other people have problems, doesn't mean yours are irrelevant. You are 100% allowed to feel however you feel, even if it seems like there's no reason for it. Have you ever thought about talking to someone about all of this? I know you just said you haven't told anyone how you actually feel for years, but I think it could help." He smiled nervously when you raised your head to look at him.

"I have actually. I joked about it a lot with my roommate right out of college. I always used to say 'everybody needs therapy' as a joke. Of course, I meant it. Most people probably do need therapy." You laughed, moving your arms around Bucky's neck to hug him. "Thank you for listening to me. I like talking to you."

Of course, Bucky noticed your smile didn't reach your eyes. He was confident in his words when he spoke again. "You can always talk to me. I'll always be there to listen." He followed that with a less confident "What's been bothering you today?"

"Oh, nothing that serious. It's just all pent up inside, ya know?" You smiled again, hiding your face so he couldn't see your lies.

Of course, he could still hear it in your voice. "Y/N, you can tell me. I want to be here for you."

"I... It's just, my insecurities are hurting me." You laughed at yourself. "Here we go with the fucking riddles, again. On the plus side, I think I've cried so much I'm back to one drink Y/N."

"Well, it has been 3 hours since I left to come find you." You were grateful for Bucky's joke, needing something to lift the mood a bit. "But, don't try and change the subject. I still want to know what's got you all sad." His words were light, but you knew how serious he was.

You took a deep breath, burying your head in his neck. "How could somebody ever love me?" You spoke into his shirt, not moving your head back even an inch.

"You know I can't understand you when you talk into my neck like that." Bucky tried joking, but even he knew it would do little to calm your fears.

You moved back, lips still grazing his skin when you repeated yourself, "how could somebody ever love me?"

Bucky wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you how much he loves you. He would gladly spend every day of his life loving you, but he didn't think this was the right time. Not when you just poured your heart out to him. So he settled for the almost truth.

"Anyone would be lucky to love you. You are selfless. You put everyone else first, no matter what. You always make sure everyone has a reason to smile, even when things aren't going right. You tell the best jokes. You're great at cuddling." He squeezes you closer to him, emphasizing the point. "You are beautiful, inside and out. Everyone who comes into contact with you automatically has a better day. You are incredibly strong and independent. I've never met anyone so incredibly good. Even Steve. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

His words brought more tears to your eyes, pooling in the corners. "Then how come everyone that I’ve dated says they hate it cause they don’t know what to do with me? I feel broken."

"They were all idiots. You're not broken. Not even a little bit. You're learning how to express your feelings. You just need someone who would take it slow." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, struggling not to tell you everything.

"I wonder if you’d take it slow." Your eyes go wide when that slips out. You hadn't meant to make things uncomfortable. One look at Bucky's face has you freaking out. He looks stunned. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out! Oh god, you've been there for me all night and I go and fuck it up by admitting I'm in love with you."

Your eyes grow even larger. You would move out of his lap, but his arms are still holding you in place. "Shit! Maybe I'm still drunk because apparently I have no filter." You say the last part more to yourself, but he can still hear you.

"Y/N?" Your name comes out of his mouth in a soft whisper.

"Yes?" You cringe internally at messing everything up.

"I would take it slow." He smiles, leaning his forehead against yours while he waits for you to absorb his words.

"Yeah?" You whisper back, a smile ghosting your lips.

"Yeah." You both lean in, exchanging soft, slow kisses and sleepy smiles.

--

The two of you ended up falling asleep leaning against the back of the couch. The sun streaming through the windows, combined with the noise of the other avengers in the kitchen, wakes you up.

You nudge Bucky, grinning when he pulls you closer.

"C'mon. Let's get some breakfast." He groans again, but eventually stands up.

The two of you walk into the nearly full kitchen, surprising everyone by coming from the lounge rather than the elevators. They share amused expressions, unaware of the emotional hurdles you jumped last night.

You head right for Sam, hugging him tightly before moving on to hug everyone else.

"I just wanted to thank you all. For encouraging me to live a little last night, but also for being there for me." Tears spring to your eyes again, shocking everyone but Bucky. "You're all like a family to me and I'm so glad I have you all to lean on." You made your way back to Bucky, leaning into his side while he poured both of you some cereal.

You smile when you look at him, kissing his cheek before sliding into the stool next to his.

As if broken out of a day dream, Sam sputters out a question. "What the hell did seven drink Y/N do last night?" Thrown off both by your behaviour with Bucky and the short emotional speech.

"Oh, seven drink Y/N is an emotional little bitch. I think I cried eight years of suppressed tears." You laughed, grinning at Bucky when he squeezed your hand. "Also, I think I need a therapist." Your casual admission has Tony spitting out his breakfast.

"What the hell happened last night after you disappeared from the party?" He guffaws, trying to put the pieces together.

"Also, why aren't you even a little bit hungover?" Nat chimed in, upset at missing out on seeing you anything but cheery.

"Well, to answer Nat first, I don't get hungover. Never have, even the one time I blackout out." You shrugged at everyone's slightly jealous expressions. "To answer Tony, I had an emotional breakthrough. Bucky helped me talk through it, something I never thought I'd be able to do. Long story short, i'm going to learn how to share my feelings instead of suppressing them all."

"Suppressing them? What are you talking about? I've literally never felt anything but happiness from you before?" Wanda questioned the new development.

"Well, that's because I'm really good at hiding how I feel. I'd rather not go through it all again, so just watch the security footage from the lounge last night, yeah? I want you all to know, even if it took seven drink Y/N to share it." You quickly finished eating, pulling Bucky to the doorway.

"While you do that, we're going out. Bye!" Before they could question anything else, you ran to the elevator, dragging a very willing Bucky behind you.

"We're going out?" He questioned when the elevator doors shut.

"Yep. Get dressed, I want to see all your favorite places in New York. Even if they're different now. Take me to all your favorite spots." You both smiled, sharing another soft kiss before parting to change for the day.

"Hey," Bucky called, causing you to turn over your shoulder, "I love you."

"I love you too."

[worstloki]

Okay, this is gettin’ real screwed up here.

I watch a lot of TV. Probably too much. And I’ve seen characters beaten to their knees before, sometimes even with collars. And yeah, there’s usually someone standing over them, and it’s been a woman sometimes. The kind of scene we got in episode 5 of Loki is not new ground.

But here’s the thing. In EVERY OTHER SCENE I can remember like this, the person kneeling is the hero. They’ve been brought down, fully humbled before the sneering villain, and in a few minutes something will happen to get them back on their feet again. It’s usually a tense moment, a “what if they break?” that makes you want the hero to win. You aren’t rooting for, or even liking in some cases, the person standing. You’re cheering for the person on their knees.

This doesn’t seem to be the case with the Loki show. Yes, the viewers may be rooting for Loki, but there’s no hatred for Sif there. She’s not proved herself to be a cold, heartless villain, ruthlessly pounding the hero until all he can do is kneel at her feet.

Except…she did kind of do that. But it isn’t treated as something bad. It’s treated more as something Loki deserved, in my opinion. The show wants us to feel like he deserved to get repeatedly beaten up and told horrible things, just for cutting off a lock of Sif’s hair. I’ll grant, it’s peanuts compared to what happened to him in the mythology. But it’s still bad. Especially since they had him acknowledge it, repeat her cruel words back. They’re playing it off as if Loki is still the villain by himself, and is only good because of other people- Mobius, mostly, but Sif is part of that.

That’s not the way Loki’s character is. In the comics particularly, his biggest arcs are always about reinventing the labels given to him, changing “villain” into something good, something he can use, and doing it by himself. Yes, there’s outside influence, but ultimately Loki is the one who decided to change.

The show is not letting him do that. The show is portraying him as a stubborn jackass who refuses to change until other people show him the light- either with psychological torture presented as therapy, or with beating him up a bunch of times until he gives in. The show and its characters are forcing Loki to become good- they aren’t showing him doing it by himself. He is not becoming one of the good guys, he’s being essentially enslaved by them, and the show is passing it off as somehow all that good influence finally rubbed off on Loki’s cold, villainous heart. That’s why him betraying Mobius was shown as so bad even though Loki barely knew him and had been psychologically tortured by him- Mobius is written as a character who can choose to be good, and Loki is written as a character who must be forced to be good.

And something about an entire show revolving around an independent character being treated as a villain, literally enslaved by the “good guys” (back when the show still wanted us to think the TVA weren’t shady as all hell), beaten to his knees with a collar around his neck until he accepts that he deserves to be alone because he isn’t “good” like everybody else…that doesn’t go down right for me.

The TVA being presented in not just a neutral but often reliable light is something I thought would change once Loki literally called out their propaganda and Sylvie called them fascists, but, for some reason the authoritarian genocidalists are not being presented as a bad thing and it irks me too.

It's especially weird because of the way what Loki claims to have wanted by making choices for people and what Mobius claims the TVA do ARE THE EXACT SAME THINGS, except Loki, until the show, hadn't done that of his own volition and was being tortured during the invasion and is treated terribly for something he didn't even succeed in doing, while the TVA successfully erase events on a mass scale but are presented as having a higher (or at best, - equal) moral ground.

The exact same thing was done in Ragnarok where Loki's "turning point" from a tricksy villainous scoundrel happened because Thor left him frying on the ground and gave him a pep talk filled with lies and general slander about how he could be better - and people see that as good because Thor is framed as a hero, and it's because instead of accepting Loki is a complex character they take what the narrative tells at face value and that is that Loki fights the protagonist(s) so he's bad.

I personally don't like the narrative pushing a character that is canonically an abuse victim and attempted suicide and was tortured right after as someone who needs fixing because he's lusting for power and needs it to gain a sense of control during a retcon which is occurring for the sake of calling him a complete bad guy who needs to change (probably because no actual original character development could be thought of?) after he was just confirmed as queer and colloquially (i assume) called a narcissist because of twisted love.

That he deserves to be alone was presented neutrally as a joke even as he was repeatedly getting beaten to the ground, and then both people he could call friends were removed from his immediate vicinity right after.

Loki isn't being presented as a character that has done a huge mix of good and bad in the movies, he's being presented as an oft incompetent idiot that deserves what he gets because he shouldn't have run away from captors, or he cut Sif's hair, or he killed his mother, or he dared to think he had any importance or could do something good, because the truth is he's an evil lying scourge.

"But maybe," Mobius says, "Maybe he wants to mix it up. Sometimes you get tired of playing the same part. Is that possible? He can change?" And everyone's already forgotten that moments before the mission Mobius said to Loki's face that the TVA has pruned a lot of Loki variants because he's so nice! look! he has hope in him when no one else does! It's also easy to forget the "and hey, if it doesn't work, I'll delete him myself," right after because the guy was smiling through it and the scene is followed by Loki really badly trying to explain the logic of being a trickster who everyone knows is a trickster.

A lot of people payed more attention in Ragnarok than to the other Thor movies so it's not a new retcon and people seem fine with the extremely strange take that 'loki is bad but he can do good sometimes,' because the character is more animated and acts foolish and that's generally more fun for comedy, which is fair for people to prefer imo, people find different things entertaining.

But I do solidly hope the show doesn't go that way though and takes a side with Loki on the narrative stance eventually because I've seen a lot of people who just. miss that the TVA's concept is bad. And those who think they're "reforming" Loki. As if the guy needs anything but a break at this point lmao he only got away from Thanos like 2 days ago please just let him rest for a bit he's a fail villain and it's cringe to have your supposed 1st open queer character get beaten to a pulp by Sif and then put wack sexualizing shots for it too :/

it's like the show itself is trying to sell the angle of "Loki is a villain" and I'm a clown who is still wanting that to be intentional because if it is? It could be amazing and playing with how different parties are framed would be s p e c t a cu l ar and could encourage people to reassess the hero coding in other movies including ones Loki was previously in - but we're reaching the last two episodes and I don't feel like that'll happen.

I feel like even if Loki does reach the end of the show as a transformed person it'll be done leaving the audience with "perhaps you're not so bad after all, Loki," and then also give credit to Mobius or Sylvie or whoever else was involved, simply because as even of yet Loki hasn't taken on a lead role in the show. I'd argue he hasn't really contributed anything worthwhile to plot either. As you've said, he's being shown as someone who needs to change but isn't really motivated to. Aw man they better not make romantic love the reason he wants to change.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Angst fic with Damiano David

prompt: a angsty about reader being sad (dami bff) 'cause damiano doesn't feel the same way romantically. ps. there's a lot of victoria de angelis being a angel in this fic, and it's basically about reader going through it.

warnings: none? it's just a bit sad and longer than usual.

 All the soft touches still tingled all over your body. His scent was until now stuck to you, you never thought you’d feel happy to have woody essence along with cigarette smoke on you. 

 Folding the sleeve of his sweater, you put your tea in one of the cups you always use when you were there. His cotton piece was comfortable, making you didn't regret wearing it in the morning; it was cold and wearing your tank top from the night before didn't feel right. The shorts from yesterday, that were making your legs freeze were enough trouble for you to handle. The remnants of your clothes and belongings were collected from the floor of his room and placed carefully on his headboard, you made sure you were being quiet. Damiano has always been a heavy sleeper, but your counscious prevented you from risking disturbing him when he looks so peaceful. You had already spent much time at his place so you memorized where every thing in his kitchen - and others rooms - was; baking eggs and making tea wasn’t a mystery for you. You had even separated a Tylenol tablet for Damiano, so he could have it with his tea when he woke up with a wicked hangover. He wasn't the type to get drunk and forget what he did, nor were you. Since when you were teenagers, you have gone out and been drunk together a lot of times, and although your feelings were already present, nothing never happened. This time, however, alcohol helped injecting a dose of courage on him. Being honest with yourself, you didn't remember who started it; but the kiss in the midst of the loud music, his hand on the back of your neck, the exchanging glances while dancing and the moment he took you home, they were pretty vividly in your mind. You still felt relaxed, as if his sweaty body was still over yours. Minutes with your eyes closed was enough to feel his eyes roaming your body all over again.

“Hi,” he said in a slurred voice, cutting off your line of thoughts. You jumped, briefly scared but soon turned your attention to reality; a tired Damiano scratching his eyes in front of you.

He was dressed, wearing sweatpants and sweatshirt, duly comfortable according to the weather. 

 “Headache?” You knew he was. He was always a good drinker, he put up with it a lot, but he was never one to get rid of the effects of alcohol on the next day. You, on the other hand, got on better with this issue; fortunately from the night before, only the good moments remained with you.

“Yeah, a bit,” he giggled. “What a night, I’d say.” He added, in a lower tone. What was acceptable, you also felt a bit weird to be in front of him.

“I got you some pills,” you pointed it out to him on the counter, trying to maintain a normal behavior; with no shacking voice or sweaty hands. Quite impossible. “I made tea too.”

“Dear God, you’re a life saver!” He smiled at you, eyes crinkled and all of his perfect teeth on display. Contagious.

You grinned, feeling your body getting lighter. “No worries. I’m glad to help.”

“Y’know, when I woke up and saw that you weren't there I thought you were gone. You know? Friendship destroyed and that whole thing. I’m happy to see you; relieved.” He took a sip of his tea, and maybe a bit of your heart with it. You were an explosion of feeling when it comes to him, you always have been. “That sweater looks good on you, you can keep it if you want. You know that’s my fave one.” And, yeah, you knew.

The tension on you was no longer intense, comforting you to let out the breath you were holding. “It’s good to hear that,” Your genuine smile managed to say many things, you wished Damiano had noticed you earlier on other occasions. “Do you remember that one time, when we were younger, that you were a bit crazy about a girl; Alice was his name.” You stopped; in need of air - nervous - and watched Dami's attentive face. “She was the first person to whom you dedicated a song, you played it to her at school break. The cutest thing I had ever seen. I think it was there that I realized, a little jealous—“

“Y/N,” his voice had been almost inaudible, causing no effect. Had he really tried?

“How in love I was with you.”

His face was paler than usual, he was paralyzed; speechless. You had never seen Damiano like this, the men was always all over the place in a sweet talkative mess.

It took a few minutes for you to be able to read his expressions and realize how fucked up you were. The dose of happiness in your blood had been able to manipulate you to believe in what you most wanted to happen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” your blood had gone up to your ears, all you could pay attention to was the pressure in your head. How had you thought that after one specific night he would suddenly decide that he was in love with you? After all of this time that you were just a good friend for him? “I’m truly sorry but I’m don’t—“

“Feel the same way?” You finished. He nodded, apprehensively. You have never felt so stupid. It was a mixture of shame, fear and insecurity. You were unable to look directly at him, you knew that there was no change in following a friendship after what you just said, much less after the night before. You had never been so screwed.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, I shouldn’t have said a thing.” You whispered, realizing that the lump in your throat had turned into tears that you didn't even know were running down your face.

“Come here,” he opened his arms, walking towards your emotionless frame. You allowed yourself to melt in his grip. 

 Your tears fell freely; you could even try to hold it back but there was no strength left for you to think about it. Your crying was silent, as was the kitchen room. Your head was full of questions and cursing at yourself. Suddenly you wished Damiano had yelled at you, asked you to get out of there or said he wouldn't never speak to you again. It seemed easier to deal with it in this alternative way than to have him comforting you for loving him. “Shh, it’ll alright. I could never be mad at you.”

He talked about your friendship, but you knew that nothing would end up well. Maybe for him. But for you? It’d not be that easy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have known better, you were so loving with me last night that I thought— Fuck, we slept together. Which I know isn’t your fault because I don’t even remember who—“

“Stop, Y/N. Look at me,” He was being careful. You were making a person like Damiano calculate his words, that made you feel like pure shit. You stopped talking, looking at him was still difficult. He understood that you wouldn’t be doing so. “That’s fine. I don’t feel bad about you liking me in that way, you’re wonderful. I don't regret anything, last night was great, but I just... don't feel the same. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I can't even imagine how hard it’s being for you right now.” His words sounded sweet and sincere. He had tears in his eyes as well. His ability to be so empathetic to everyone was something you loved the most about him. He was probably killing himself on the inside for breaking you.

You nodded, leaning on the counter. You wanted to ask him if he remembered that he was your first kiss at the age of seven or all the times he sent you vinyl records with some message - that he had written himself - inside the cover. How did he not feel the same, shouldn't you be everything he wanted?

“Dami?” You sighed. Your eyes were red, your face probably swollen. You then looked straight at him; that surprisingly wasn’t much better than you. “Have you ever looked at me and seen me in another way? Something more than just your best friend?”

He didn’t say a thing, just look at you standing there. You get it.

“I think I should go,” You broke the silence that had been formed. You thought about taking his sweater off, but since you weren't wearing anything underneath, you thought it was better not; you’d have to go to his room to change, and then pick up your things only to delay your leaving.

“I can drive you home,” he said in a hush, looking for his car keys.

“It’s okay, a walk will be fine.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, I can't let you walk over there like that.”

You ignored what he said, walking around the house to the front exit. He tried to grab your arm just for you to step back.

“I know you're just trying to help, but I need to be alone right now, without you near me.” You tried to say it in the most normal way possible, you didn't want to be mean, you only wanted to be fair to yourself.

“Sure.” It was the last thing you heard him say before you left, feeling the cold wind on your body. You didn't know if he had entered his house again or if he was watching you hug yourself as walking slowly to somewhere. You wouldn't dare to look back.

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

“C’mon girl, get up here,” Upon hearing the husky, strong voice, you were relieved. 

 Victoria wasn’t wearing her usual jewelry and looked like she had just been woken up by force. You weren’t as close to her as you were with the other boys, however, you had never been so happy to see her.

You got in her car. “Thank you,”

“God, you look terrible. You’re fine?” You looked at your reflection in the rearview mirror and well, fine was definitely something you didn't look like.

“Dami asked you to come and get me?” Your throat was scratching, it was difficult to speak.

“Yeah,” she looked at you quickly, but due to your discomfort she backed off. More tears would come. “He didn't say why though, he just said he needed someone to come to you before you froze to death.” She said it in a way that made you laugh, even with your eyes filled with tears. “Did the two of you have a disagreement? You don't have to answer me if you don't want to.”

“Something similar.” You said shakily; due to your crying and chilly. Inside the car was heated, but your body was so cold that it didn't seem to be enough. You tried to snuggle in the passenger seat, letting your head rest against the window like in a sad film. Maybe that’d help.

“Here,” she handed you a coat, without hesitation you took it. “I brought it to you in case you needed it.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you, Victoria,”

“You can call me Vic, just like everyone else,” she laughed.

You gave her a half smile. “Okay then, thank you very much, Vic,”

The rest of the day would be crying while you curled up in your bed, you’d let yourself feel at your worst; promising that you would try and change that the next day.

———----------------------------------------------

You expected the first few days to be the hardest, but it seemed to get worse with each passing day. Damiano had tried to call you a few times and in all of them you responded dryly, using short words, pretending it’d be okay. You truly tried, but you needed time to process what happened. You told him that, and then time he gave you.

After completing a month of the incident, you noticed how 'dependent' you had become on him. He was always around since you were kids, any problem you had you would look for him to talk to, now you felt like you had nothing. Your friends were friends of his, too, more of his friends than yours. You missed having Thomas failing on teaching you how to play guitar on your couch and besides you thought about calling him - just to distract yourself - you remembered that he was more a friend of Damiano than yours. It’d be weird. None of them contacted you at that time, not even Thomas. You couldn't figure it out if Dami had told them what happened and they decided to give you space or if they just didn't care about you when you wasn’t around Damiano.

Basically, where Dami was you would be and vice versa. It had always been like that.

When you saw that just time wasn’t solving anything, you programmed yourself to live in a way that you were busy all the time. Your routine became work, home and most of the time taking the work to be done also in your home. You didn't feel energized to make new friends, and going out on dates could help momentarily but it wouldn't be fair to go out with someone in the ‘mood’ you were in; then these ideas were soon discarded. Sleeping was impossible, you spent hours rolling over in bed; both for the flashbacks that plagued your mind, but also for the fact that you missed him. The nights were worse when you visit your mother or when she called and said, "Dami never came to see me again." or something like. “Are you still talking to each other? We don't let someone like Damiano leave our lives.”

Deep down, you knew there was no way you could be in love with him forever and that no matter how much it hurt at that moment it would pass. You started to repeat it to yourself as much as you could, so when the boys got in touch with you again you didn't hesitate to answer. Nothing bad would happen, you just need to pretend to be fine. The first to send you a message was Thomas, with simple questions, he acted like nothing had happened, you liked it. Even though it was obvious that Thomas, as one of his boys, would know this in more detail than you did (which was a lie, but at least he knew how Damiano was feeling about it, which you wouldn't know). He updated you about Dami, who was great as always, and you said you were doing well when he asked. You answering him made Ethan talk to you too, although they were all polite and delicate, they seemed more to be sorry than to miss you. Pity wasn’t something you were expecting.

After five months, you still felt like crap. You had tried to stop counting the days that had passed since you last saw Damiano, but it was almost impossible. You could still remember that night vividly, but you were still trying your best to move on; leave it behind. Mysteriously, you wanted to see him, see how he was doing and find out if he had anything else to say but you were afraid to see him, go back to your place as his best friend just to realize that your feelings for him had not abated at all.

“...I haven't seen you in a while. I wonder if you're alright,” you heard when answering your phone. Your head hurt, your eyes stung. You had slept on spreadsheets that you brought home from your work.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Shit,” she murmured.

You looked at the phone screen. “Sorry Vic, I just woke up I'm still trying to copy.” You laughed to calm her down.

“I thought I didn't have my number,” her voice became softer, as if she was relieved that you had saved it. “I didn't want to wake you up, I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to know how you‘re doing, since I used to see you almost every day, y’know?”

You thought about saying that you saved her number the day Dami called to pick him up at a bar since his phone battery was dead and he was in no condition to drive, but Victoria clearly knew that. “Is Dami with you?”

“No,” her tone matched yours; Dami had told her, now she was being careful with her words. “I saved your number the day Dami needed to call you, in case I needed to call you again.”

“That’s alright, thanks for checking on me then.”

“But he would love to talk to you. He always asks the boys about you or comments on you so that someone can bring you up to the convo. He seems a bit lost when you not ‘round to be honest.”

Somehow hearing that made you happy. Still, the image of discomfort whenever you thought of talking to him scared you. The phone line was filled with silence, until Victoria's husky voice filled the line.

“Anyway, I didn't call you to talk about Damiano. We finally finished the album and decided to have a small celebration at my house,” you giggle at the formality. “We thought you should go, since you were present in more than half of the process. I‘d like you to come. We’d all like you to come.”

———

Your heart accelerated with each step you took as you entered Victoria's house. The rooms had a glow of being calm and the music that was playing helped to make the place cozy. The instrumental of the band reminded you of Fleetwood Mac, and for the little that you knew Vic you would say that the type of sound reminded you of her. 

 Her house wasn’t crowded, there were only a few people around; some you’ve seen before, some you haven’t. You thundered your fingers over some vinyl that were arranged in a corner, pretending to read them. You were looking for familiar faces, honestly even for Damiano, but for some unknown reason you didn't want to make that obvious. Your eyes captured Thomas talking to some girls, and soon you felt relieved to be dressed according to the occasion; or at least according to the girls who were close to Thomas. It didn't take long until he noticed you standing there, you waved and he came to you. He looked surprised, still he didn't wait for you to say anything else, just wrapped you in his arms so tight you had to ask him to let go in between muffled laughter.

“Vic working miracles! Come, I'll take you to the others.” He said in his cute form, holding your hand as guiding you through the house. “So, how's our best girl?”

Your lips parted in a smile. “I’m alright, pretty much the same to be honest,” there was no time for him to ask another question because you soon spotted Ethan and Victoria with their beers in hands. They seemed to be shocked to see you as well; and it was starting to irritate you for reasons you couldn't explain. Thomas put you behind him, hiding you from the two of them as if they hadn't seen you already. He was being such a sweetheart that he had even managed to soften the anxious butterflies in your stomach; but not enough to keep your mind free of worries and Damiano David. Thomas made a funny noise with his hands as Ethan ignored his attempt to be amusing, pulling you into a hug. Who would have thought you would have missed them so much.

“How long without seeing you, I force you not to do that again. Without you we are just another disorganized mess.” You laughed at his nonsense. Your smile was sincere, like it hadn't been for months, still you were forcing yourself a bit more to appear to be actually 'fine'. You’d like to know if they noticed, even though you were appreciating that they didn’t.

“No worries, I‘m not planning on leaving you guys alone.”

 Ethan and Thomas started to discuss about something, Ethan was already under the effect of alcohol, and from time to time they asked for your opinion on how Victoria had been strangely quiet. Atypical of her, but she didn't seem to be out of place or uncomfortable, just quiet.

“Did a cat eat the tongue of my newest attractive friend?”

“Not this time,” she showed you her tongue, and then smirked. Her eyes shone in differently way under your gaze and her make up was making her look more mature. “Are you feelin’ good? Thank you for coming.” Victoria was happy to see you, you could feel that. She might be curious, but pity wasn’t something possible to see in her; different from the other boys. “You must be tired of hearing that question, I'm sorry. It‘ll no longer be asked.”

Her voice was soft, comfortable to hear. “I appreciate that. I really have heard a lot of that, but despite everything, I feel good ‘bout bein’ here.”

“I feel even happier that you came then,” she put her hand gently on your waist. The other two didn't even remember you and Vic were there. “Let's get you something to drink, we bought that red drink Damiano always says you love.”

“No way, it’s bishop cocktail?” You looked at her, a big grin on your face, even though you remembered that this was the drink you were drinking when the universe decided it would be a good idea for you and Dami to have a one-night stand. Just a lovely reminder. “Have you mixed everything up? like the rum with the red wine? or with red drink you just want to say you bought wine?” You asked, ignoring your internal conflicts. Everything would be fine, you ket repeating to yourself.

“In fact, I remember once hearing you comment you didn't mind it being mixed up in a random bottle.”

She pulled a glass bottle out of a bucket full of ice and you couldn't believe she remembered that; given that you could count on your fingers the times that you had actually spoken to her. You didn’t avoid each other, just didn’t have much of the opportunities.

“Oh my god, that’s so fuckin’ lovely.” You whispered. She was quick to pick up a glass and hand it to you, filling it with the so well remembered liquid. You took a sip, and the taste - or alcohol - made your butterflies calmer. “Thanks for that, tastes like heaven.” She took a glass for herself, by her expression she thought it was a waste of rum. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“If you think so, who am I to deny.”

“Don’t be a bummer,” you bumped your shoulder with hers, eliciting a cute sound from her that made you laugh as well.

You wish that sensation had lasted longer, even so when a random girl approached you to ask something, you felt heavy; like a sign. Her hair was golden in perfect waves and her face was angelic in an almost divine way. You might have been overreacting, but she was the type to catch all the attention to herself.

“You’re Y/N, right? I was startin’ to think that I’d never get to know you.” She hugged you tight and you wondered if she really didn't know you. When she released you, you felt your heart breaking right there in front of her. She was wearing Dami's sweater; the same one from that night, the same one that you wore. You wanted to be wrong, but you’d know that sweater from a distance even after years. “He talks so much about you. Can you believe we never met?” She asked, alternating her gaze between you and Victoria. She had been silent, you had forgotten that she was still there. Your head was miles away in thoughts, making you dizzy.

“Hi, Bella,” Victoria said. You remembered that name. Damiano talked about her on a few occasions, anyways he didn't seem to be in love - or you just didn’t want to see that. Maybe you haven’t been able to read him due to your stupid passion. “How’s everything?”

She started talking to Victoria and you couldn't concentrate on listening; all the alcohol in the world would not ease what you were feeling. How long have they been together? What was so special about her that Damiano gives her his favorite sweater? Were they together when you slept together? How did she end up with the same sweater you slept in that day?

She held the cup that was in your hands and handed it to Victoria. “Are you okay, hon’? You look a lil’ unwell. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No need, I’m alright,” she patted your arm, and then checked your temperature. She was being nice, yet you couldn't pretend to be interested in being there anymore.

Thankfully, Victoria put an arm around your shoulders, asking if you want to join her to have a smoke. “It’ll be good, fresh air will do good to you.”

You agreed. Bella was worried and you felt bad about having to run away from her. She looked like an incredible person, sure Damiano was lucky to have her, that was just too much for you.

“Do this, you will feel better. We can talk later and so you can tell me everything about you and Dami, I’d love to hear you, since you’ve known each other for so long.” You looked for some irony in her voice, but you didn't found it. She was interested in you; after all, you were her boyfriend's best friend. It made sense.

Victoria guided you to the balcony, or at least halfway to it. Midway, someone stopped to talk to her, she tried to dismiss the person, however, as it was a thing related to the album, she would have no way out. “Victoria, it’s fine, I need some time alone.” You whispered to her, patting on her arm. She looked at you reluctantly, but understand. There wouldn't be much she could do for you.

Entering the balcony you felt an absurd urge to cry, your eyes itched and your legs were trembling. Was being in love meant to hurt this much, or was it just a game of chance?

You tried to take a deep breath, ease your heartbeats, telling yourself it was okay. You just needed to calm down. You leaned your body against the wall and watched the place. The plants near the fence - which you didn't know how Victoria had time to take care of them - the streets, and then the sky. Starry and moist, made for good memories that wouldn't come to you. When you felt ready enough to go out and face the party again, you ran into the one you were trying to avoid, Dami. Minutes ago you were anxious with the possibility to see him to know how he was, now you just wanted to run away and wipe these last months out of your mind.

“Y/N,” his body collided with yours while his arms wrapped around you, it was supposed to be a good thing, that you‘d feel safe as the same way you used to feel, except that was uncomfortable now. You couldn't even respond to his hug, for a second you thought you would escape without having to see him. He noticed and gave you space. “I swore that you wouldn't come. My god, it's so good to see you.” He ran his hands through his hair and you remained paralyzed in front of him.

You tried to focus on your breathing so that your voice came out without too many complications. “Yeah... It's good to see you, you look great.” It didn't work, your voice was shaky making your lie sound even worse. He looks great, you didn't lie, he seemed even happier and well rested. You wondered if it was because the album was ready or because now he had Bella.

You forced a smile, but unlike the others, Damiano knew you were acting. He didn’t judge or question, his face became tense, apprehensive. He knew that nothing was right.

“I thought about callin’ you more, goin’ to see you or something. The boys convinced me that it‘d be better not, that it could be even hard for you. I wonder if I shouldn't have done something different to help you because I know I fucked up too.” His hands were undecided between running through his hair and staying inside his pockets. He was nervous, at the same relieved to have spoken to you.

“It wasn't your fault, I’d never blame you for that,” you sighed, smiling slightly. It felt terrible to make him feel that way about it, but there wasn't much you could do. “I'm glad you gave me space when I asked, it's still hard to see you or think about talkin’ to you. It is as if everything that is tormenting me comes all at once.” It was good to say that to him. He nodded and you looked at each other for a while. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be.

He was a few feet away from you while you were admiring the night, with your back against the wall. You wanted to leave, maybe go cry in your bed until you fell asleep, still you wanted things to work out with Dami, you wanted that tension and fear of seeing him to get out of your head. Despite that, if it was necessary to suffer in that process, it would not be worth it.

“She’s amazing,” it hurt to say that, but it was the truth. “Bella’s amazing, lucky girl.” You smiled sadly. Saying her name and seeing Dami smiling at that made you thank God for not seeing the two of them together, hugging or kissing. He‘d probably put his hand on her waist while she was talking to one of his friends or giving lightly kisses to her temple, just because he felt like it. Damiano was the cute type, you've seen it before.

“She is, an amazing person. She was all happy to have spoken to you. I told her all about our teenage years and how you always supported the band,” He had told her about you, would he have told her about you being in love with him? You thought to ask, soon giving up. It’d be shameful if so. “If I knew you would be here I’d not have come with her.” It made you think that he had told her.

“What would you do? Would you hide me from her for the rest of your life?” You sighed. it was supposed to sound like a joke, regrettably your voice sounded too cruel for that.

“It’s not like that,” he mumbled. “I was just tryin’ to think of you and—“

“I think I need to go Dami, it’s being too much. I’m sorry.” You needed to get out of there, you couldn't stop the tears anymore and you knew it was a bad idea to talk about her with him.

You took a few steps back just for Damiano to grab at your arm, without putting strength, just like a few months ago, to stop you in front of him. You turned your face away from looking at his eyes, feeling as the tears run down your cheek. You'd never be able to face him, this situation was only proving that to you even more.

“Please, Y/N. Just tell me what I need to do. I will do anything for you to talk to me again. I need you, you know that. The past few weeks have been a mess without you around. Even little my mom misses you. I’d do anything to have you back like before.” He was about to cry, his eyes shone with tears and it was painful to watch. He could do anything for you to stay; except what would make you stay. Unfortunately, it didn't depend only on his good will.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” you said in a lack of air, signaling the space around you with your finger. “But this, this is too much. It kills me to have to be close to you or to be close to things or people that remind me of you, seeing someone else with you doesn't help at all. I still think about the fact that we slept together... I can’t just forget it ‘cause it meant so much to me and to you, to you? it was nothing.” You were out of breath, you just wanted to cry in peace, put everything out until there was nothing left. 

 He released his hands of you, his face red and damp. It wasn't going to be easy for either of you. Time wouldn't matter; it wouldn’t change a thing because whenever you looked at him you’d wonder about how things could have been like if he had chosen you.

He whispered one more time that he was sorry, then let you go. He could have stopped you, but it's not like he knew what to do anymore. 

He watched as you walk out without even looking back.

——-

You went through the party walking fast, avoiding acquaintances and questions about why you were like that. Your body was heavy as well as your conscience. Outside the house the street was empty, the streetlights illuminated the sidewalk and along with the silence of the street you felt invited to sit there. You brought your knees close to your body, trying to breathe calmly. Pulling the air in, and then releasing it in a normal way. Your heart was beating so fast that your whole body was agitated. You tried to stay still. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy when you saw someone walk out the front door of the house. You dropped your knees, trying to look decent, but gave up as soon as the person came closer to you and you saw that it was Victoria. She sat next to you, pulling you into a hug. You were happy that she went to you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, hugging her waist and hiding your face in the fabric of her shirt.

“Stop saying that you’re fine when you’re far from being fine, I won’t judge you sweetheart,” she comforted you, giving you a extra squeezing. You were far from being alright, but it helped, having someone there helped.

She placed her chin on top of your head, soothing you until your crying softened. She rubbed your back and whispered that it’d be okay.

“Did Damiano send you here?”

“No, darlin’. He said that you had talked, and then you had to leave, he didn't look well, I thought you wouldn't be either.”

“And then you decided to look out for me?” You laughed, still tucked in her warm arms.

“Yep, sounds like you need me, don’t you think?” She laughed too, causing the vibration of her chest next to yours make you feel taken in.

“Why’s love so painful?”

Victoria didn't answer, she was thoughtful for a few minutes, and then she stood up, holding out her hand for you.

“What?”

“I won’t be taking no as an answer, you’ll get in the car with me and we will do something, anything, drink milk shakes, fill up our bellies with pizza ‘til we can't take it anymore, or even rob a bank.” She held you by the waist, lifting you up for her. “Please,”

You didn't see why not to accept. There was nothing worse that could get even worse at the moment, maybe going somewhere would do you good. “Even rob a bank?” She nodded, pointing to where her car was.

A smile spreading across her lovely face as you realized you’d go anywhere she wanted with her. “Yes, even robbing a bank.”

[phoenixyfriend]

soulmate au: 2 or 27 for rexwalker? (or rexanidala)

soulmate au prompts

2. the one where you have your soulmate’s name written on your body.

27. the one where you can transfer any injuries/pain your soulmate has onto yourself.

Once again featuring Marginally Less Terrible Jango, Hopeless Romantic Anakin, and Significantly More Awkward Rex.

Word Count: 5.9k

-----

Anakin doesn’t have a soulmate until he’s ten years old.

He’s already been at the Temple for half a year by then, and heard enough about how not having a soul mark is a good thing, for a Jedi. It means fewer temptations away from the duties they’ve all agreed to take on. There are people with names on their bodies, including Obi-Wan, who has two, but everyone agrees that while friendship with one’s soulmate is fine, especially if that soulmate is a fellow Jedi, it cannot be allowed to become too deep.

“I don’t understand,” Anakin admits to Obi-Wan, one night when he finds Obi-Wan looking at the name that wraps around his upper thigh, the one in the unfamiliar alphabet and cultured, perfect strokes. It’s a few months after he arrives, long enough to think they won’t kick him out just for asking questions, but not quite long enough to know what’s normal yet. His own soul mark is several months away, not that he knows it. “Soulmates were one of the few things a mas--an owner couldn’t take away from a slave. They could get rid of the mark, but we still knew. They were important, something the universe gave us that we could keep, even if it was only in our memories. Why do Jedi try to make it not count?”

Obi-Wan gets a look on his face, the one he gets whenever Anakin has a question that’s more complicated and philosophical than what Obi-Wan was ready for, the questions about why that he has to think about because it’s all normal for Obi-Wan, who grew up here, in ways that it isn’t (and will never be) for Anakin with his Tatoo heart and slaveborn mind.

“It’s not about the depth of the relationship in and of itself,” Obi-Wan finally says. “It’s about how you go about it, how you let it affect you, and if you let it get in the way of your duties as a Jedi, or put yourself at risk of a fall. It’s... it’s not banned, exactly, to love someone the way one would expect to love a soulmate, but it’s discouraged for our own safety and health. Losing someone you love hurts everyone, but for a Force-user to lose someone they consider so dear to their heart, there’s always a risk of losing one’s stability and going Dark.”

Anakin doesn’t entirely understand, but he pretends he does.

Obi-Wan scratches at the stubble he’s trying to turn into a beard, and says, “Okay, let me finish getting dressed, and then I’m going to tell you a few stories. You said you like learning through stories, right?”

Anakin nods.

“Okay, so... Bandomeer, I think. Melida/Daan and Mandalore, definitely. And we can round it out with what happened a few days ago,” Obi-Wan mutters. “I--most of those are planets.”

“I’ve heard of Mandalore,” Anakin volunteers.

“Yes, most have,” Obi-Wan indulges him, but he looks a little nervous. “Anakin, I... these stories all have to do with some very painful times in my life, times when I almost left, or did leave, the Jedi Order. I think--”

“You left the Jedi?”

“For a year, when I was a little older than you, but I came back,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m... can you put on some tea? It’ll make this conversation easier.”

“Is it about your soulmates?” Anakin asks, clinging to the doorframe just before he exits.

“...one of them,” Obi-Wan says, passing a hand over the mark on his thigh. “It’s... she’s why Mandalore is on this list, but that story won’t make as much sense unless I tell you about Bandomeer and Melida/Daan first.”

“Because you left?”

“Because I already knew what leaving could cost me,” Obi-Wan corrects, gentle but oddly stern. “Go put on the tea, Anakin. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

-----

Three months after Anakin hears about the times Obi-Wan was forced to leave, did leave, almost left, and threatened to leave (for Anakin’s sake!), the name of his soulmate comes in.

“That’s not a name,” Anakin says.

“Anakin--”

“That’s not a name,” Anakin says, more upset than he’d like to admit. The soul mark sits neatly on one side of his lower abdomen, warm and precisely lettered and absolutely terrifying.

CT-7567, in a dark, desaturated blue.

“I don’t think your soulmate is a droid,” Obi-Wan tries to joke. It falls flat.

“They’re a born slave,” Anakin says, and watches Obi-Wan stiffen. “Droids don’t get soulmates. Slaves do, but sometimes ma--owners don’t let slaves have names. They just give ‘em a number and that’s it. Supposed to make us more pliant and keeps us from having thoughts of individuality.”

“Them, Anakin, not us. You’re free.”

Anakin looks up at him, lip wobbling, and he knows a Jedi shouldn’t cry, not when he’s already ten, but he wants to any way. “My soulmate isn’t.”

“O-oh, okay, we’re crying now,” Obi-Wan mutters, clearly overwhelmed, and pulls Anakin to his chest. “It’ll be alright, dear one. Your mark means you will meet one day, and when you do, you can free them. Alright?”

“Okay.”

-----

“Skywalker? Sounds like a slave name.”

It’s a refrain that CT-7567 hears almost every time one of the adults sees his mark. They mention Tatooine sometimes. One of the bounty hunters that covers their weapons training gets angry if people point out the slave thing, and CT-7567 isn’t the only person to get a slave for a soulmate. She doesn’t explain it often, but there’s an incident when Rex is three that gives him a little more information.

“That one’ll be angry,“ the bounty hunter mutters, her lip curling when she hears the cadets gossiping about their marks again, sees CT-7567 pulling up his shirt to show off his own. She’s always like that, about the clones who have slave soulmates. CC-1010, who knows everything about everyone, says that she used to be a slave before she killed her way out. She’s definitely scary enough. “Name like that... Tatooine, human, might be a slave or might be freeborn from a line of slaves. Either way, that one’s going to be angry about it.”

“How do you mean, sir?”

Her eyes flick to his, and then back to the slugthrower she’s cleaning. “Tatooine slave culture knows things. Your mark on this “Anakin” is going to be your number until you get a name, and they’re not going to make the mistake of thinking their soulmate is a droid. They’ll know you were born to a purpose.”

It takes another year for CT-7567 to learn that she means ‘you were born a slave.’

(It takes two more for him to pick a name.)

-----

Anakin is not the only one in the Temple to have this kind of soul mark popping up. He is not even the first. The Council is investigating it, apparently, but they don’t have much to go off of. It didn’t start until a year or two before Anakin came to Coruscant, but enough Jedi are affected by the CC and CT soul marks for it to be concerning. Anakin gets called in to provide some information on what he knows about slave-designations in these circumstances, which isn’t much, and is barely more than what they already know, but they assure him it’s helpful. Something about corroborating the information a raised slave is taught culturally with the information a Shadow can collect from a community that doesn’t trust them. Obi-Wan explains that it’s about how Anakin knows information that was collected and taught, instead of information that has to be gathered, bit by bit, and analyzed.

It’s a long way of saying that Anakin knows things that other people don’t, because he wasn’t raised in the safety of the Temple.

Anakin doesn’t know many of the others, but he does know one even before his soul mark comes in, because their Masters are friends. They talk about it, and three years after they first connect over this, something happens.

“It changed! Anakin, Ani, it changed!”

Anakin drops the datapad he’s been doing history homework on, and looks up as Aayla, already in the suite, grabs his shoulders and shakes him a little.

“Aayla?” Obi-Wan calls, coming out of the kitchen with a rag in one hand and a wet plate in the other. “What in the--what are you shouting about?”

Knight Vos follows Aayla in--it’s a bit early to call him a Master, given that Aayla’s still not knighted, but it’s getting close--and leans against the door, arms crossed. “Kid was right. The mark changes when the soulmate picks a name.”

Aayla pulls down the shoulder of one sleeve, and Anakin sees that the designation number has changed. It’s not a regimented CC-5052 anymore, but a short, sweet Bly, with a flourish at the end that probably means this person is always going to be excited to sign their name.

“We already knew that,” Obi-Wan says. “When people transition, their name changes on their soulmate as well. This is the same thing.”

“We didn’t know that it applied to born slaves the same way,” Knight Vos says. “All we had was anecdotal evidence from the kid. Trustworthy, yes, but no data to back it up. And now we know.”

“I wonder how it’s meant to be pronounced,” Aayla says, and obligingly lets Anakin poke at the name that swirls on her shoulder in a vivid yellow against the blue. It’s pretty, he thinks. The handwriting and the color and what it means that the soulmates they’ve all gotten are finding ways to be people.

“How long until mine changes?” Anakin asks, even though he knows that nobody here has that answer. “Do you think all of them are going to find names? Or...”

“If they don’t by the time we find them,” Aayla assures him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “they will once they’re free.”

(In one life, the Jedi would have held their tongues and ducked their heads, hidden in denial and ‘we are their only option’ and ‘the Senate will use them regardless; we are a kinder fate than men like Tarkin’ and would never use the words ‘slave army’ to describe their men.)

(In this life, they are primed, from the moment a little freed boy explains exactly what a soul mark like this means to people like his, to see their army and say ‘we will free you.’)

-----

Rex

Anakin has his eyes fixed on the name from the moment his mark burns and twists and changes. He’s sixteen by then, and on a mission with Obi-Wan that prevents him from running to break into Knight Aayla’s room and show off to her the way she had to him. He’s not even on planet, but at least it’s not the middle of a fight. That could have been bad.

“Hey, Obi-Wan?”

“Hm?”

“I got a name.”

“For the assassin?” Obi-Wan asks, raising his head hopefully. “Did you get through to the guild?”

“...no, I meant, uh, my soulmate.” Anakin lifts his shirt, waits on that unfortunate dash of disappointment, and then Obi-Wan’s face lights up and the man practically scrambles over to get a better look. Anakin tries not to let himself read too much into it. It’s... nice, he thinks. That Obi-Wan is excited for him.

“I feel like half these individuals are picking names of exactly three letters,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling as he almost touches the mark. He doesn’t, in the end, but Anakin wants to laugh at it anyway. “Rex, then. I look forward to meeting your young man.”

Anakin feels his face flare. “We don’t know that it’s a boy. I mean, there might be places where that’s a girl’s name. Or a species that doesn’t have our genders. Or--”

“I have a feeling,” Obi-Wan says, and laughs when Anakin pouts at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t bet my saber on it, but a few credits, at least. Nothing solid, but I was prone to visions as a youngling. Qui-Gon was never very good at dealing with the peculiarities of such a connection to the Unifying Force. He tried, admittedly, but he was very much a man of the present.”

Anakin spends the rest of the mission silently cheering on his soulmate for picking a name.

For taking that step to saying “I’m a person.”

-----

Someone tries to assassinate Senator Amidala. Anakin and Obi-Wan are assigned to protect her. There’s an incident with a robot, and Obi-Wan is... pulled aside.

(Anakin finds himself thinking, more than once, that he could have fallen in love with this woman if he wasn’t so attached to the idea inked into his skin.)

(Senator Amidala doesn’t have a soulmate. She’s free to choose, she claims. He doesn’t envy her, but he does respect this.)

(Anakin likes the security of the universe telling him that there’s someone he’s meant for.)

Obi-Wan disappears to investigate something, and returns just before Anakin and Padme are set to leave. He looks... grim.

“The assassination is more complicated than we thought,” Obi-Wan says. “As in, the main assassin was expecting this to fail, so we’d come find him after he killed the subcontractor.”

“So...”

“He wants to talk to us,” Obi-Wan says. “But, specifically, to the two of you.”

-----

“So, you’re Anakin Skywalker.”

Jango Fett is a shorter man than Anakin, shorter even than Obi-Wan, but he’s not small. The armor bulks him out further. There’s faint scars on his face, here and there, and he seems more amused than anything when Anakin slips in front of Padme to actually be the bodyguard he’s supposed to play.

“What’s it to you?” Anakin challenges, and pretends he doesn’t see the way Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Fett smirks. “One of my boys has your name on him.”

Anakin stops breathing for a moment.

“One of your boys?” Padme prompts, and Anakin tries to remember his job.

Fett’s smirk falls away and he palms his face. “Three million of them, and counting. I’ve had people cross-referencing soul marks as they pop up, in case anyone’s connected to someone... important. Special attention on the confirmed Jedi.”

“Three mill--you’re behind the ident number marks,” Anakin realizes. “The slave-born.”

Obi-Wan’s face looks carved from stone, and Anakin realizes that the mood he’s been in since he called Anakin and Padme was because he’d figured it out before he called.

“Yeah, Umiett said you’d be the one to make that connection,” Fett mutters. He shakes his head. “Listen, I’ve got three million clones that are more sentient than anyone told me they’d be, and I’ve spent the last few years trying to decide how to get myself out of this contract without abandoning them in the process. Tyranus gave me the job to assassinate Amidala, but I’d already had her shortlisted as one of the Republic members most like to help me get these boys citizenship and legal rights. Once I heard Skywalker and Kenobi were involved, turning this into a discreet way to get your attention seemed like the obvious solution.”

“You tried to kill me... to get my attention... so I’d help you.”

“I didn’t try to kill you. I subcontracted to a former acquaintance that I knew wasn’t good enough to get past two Jedi.”

“Right,” Padme says, seeming unimpressed. Anakin agrees. “Okay, three million sentients, all your children--”

“Clones.”

“--yes, something that’s very illegal in the Republic at that scale,” she says. “Unless--”

“Kamino’s in the Rishi maze. Dwarf galaxy, not actually part of the Republic. Isolated.”

“Okay, that’s... going to make this more difficult,” Padme says. “Where does your citizenship lie? Are you still Mandalorian? I’m not as familiar with your role in recent politics as I could be. I know there’s something about all violent dissenters being sent to Concordia, but you--”

“If I thought that hut’uunla Duchess would listen to me, I’d have already reached out,” Fett dismisses. “That’s part of why I focused on Kenobi and Skywalker when doing the research. Skywalker’s got the background to argue slavery, and Kenobi’s got connections in Mandalorian politics.”

“And I’m to be your voice in the Senate.”

“Not mine. The clones’.”

Anakin looks to Obi-Wan for guidance, because this man was involved with the attempted assassination, but...

“Who is Tyranus?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Oh, you’re going to enjoy this. The man calling himself Darth Tyranus is Count Dooku of Serreno.”

Anakin hasn’t heard Obi-Wan swear that colorfully since the last time he got stabbed.

-----

Things... progress. Quietly. Fett mentions there being a Sith in the Senate, something he picked up from a particularly ugly visit from the Count to Kamino, the kind of visit that involved veiled conversations intended as mocking, bragging monologues.

“He really is a villain,” Obi-Wan mutters, as if Anakin hasn’t seen him monologue to captured criminals on occasion, or get so caught up in The Banter that he lets something slip that he shouldn’t have.

Anakin and Padme go to Naboo to ‘keep her safe,’ and Obi-Wan hares off on a falsified investigation, keeping the Council updated the entire time. Anakin doesn’t like splitting up, not when so much is happening, but they have no idea who the Sith in the senate might be, if they even exist. Anakin doesn’t even have time to say goodbye to the Chancellor.

All this contributes, for Anakin is already stressed, and excited, anticipatory and afraid, and then the nightmares come. Padme’s more aware of his fears than she might have been, as much as they talk about slaves and freedom and how she makes things happen with words and legislation. Anakin’s a little in love with the idea of this woman, though he won’t act on anything until he meets his soulmate and figures out what they’re meant to be for each other, but... friends, at least. Padme is going to be a friend, possibly for life, and Anakin’s going to love her no matter what.

She coaxes out the truth, and then tells him, ‘well, your mother would know more about this than you, since you left at nine; it would be entirely reasonable to ask her for advice,’ and then smiles like they’re sharing a secret crush instead of plotting the violation of his orders.

They save Shmi.

(Barely.)

Padme doesn’t get the advice she was using an excuse from Shmi, but from a long, tired conversation with Beru Whitesun. As it turns out, when a family’s been freeing slaves for generations, they know what they’re talking about. Even Anakin remembers the Whitesun reputation. Padme’s notes are copious.

Anakin cares for his mother, and talks to his stepbrother, and gets an idea of who these people in his life are. He can’t imagine they’ll make contact often, but he’s glad to meet them. Cliegg--his stepfather, and isn’t that a thought--isn’t a particularly soft man, or a smooth one, but his gruffness has a different energy on Tatooine than it would on Coruscant. Anakin approves.

Obi-Wan calls. Padme explains. Anakin is shamed by his Master and then has to defend that particular title when Owen and Beru stare at him and the comm in matching horror.

“Master-Apprentice,” Anakin says, just a little panicked. “Not Master-Slave. He’s my teacher, practically family, not... you don’t need to worry. I promise.”

“I’ve seen them interact,” Padme says, and then shoots a small, smug smile at Beru. “Obi-Wan’s somewhere between father and brother to Anakin. It’s very sweet, when they’re together, and very entertaining.”

Beru, who’s had three days to get used to Padme, smiles and nods. “Alright then. I’ll take your words for it.”

Obi-Wan sputters a bit at the claim, in the background, and Anakin is... just a little upset by that.

“I think your mother would want to speak with him,” Cliegg claims, and Anakin hesitates, because this is a mission call, for all that gossip is happening, and he really shouldn’t break more rules after the big one he’s clearly, blatantly completely ignored to come to Tatooine in the first place. Cliegg holds out a hand, eyes on Obi-Wan. “As would I.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan says. “I suppose I do have a moment.”

-----

Anakin and Padme arrive on Kamino.

“Your mother,” Obi-Wan says, in lieu of a greeting, “is oddly terrifying, did you know?”

“She’s... still recovering,” Anakin says, brow furrowing. “She can’t leave the bed for anything other than the ‘fresher for weeks, probably. And she’s nice, how is any of that terrifying?”

“It’s her energy,” Obi-Wan notes. “Quietly intimidating, I’d say. Very odd, really.”

“What did you even talk about?” Anakin asks, and then blushes as Padme giggles at him, like she knows things that he doesn’t. She probably does. She’s older than him. Still.

“Ah, that,” Obi-Wan says, looking away for a moment and--blushing? Obi-Wan’s blushing? “She rather aggressively informed me of what is considered normal on Tatooine for a relationship that is, as Padme put it, ill-defined but close and familial.”

“Master, you--what?”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and steps forward, pulling Anakin into a hug. Oh. “I’ve been informed that the manner in which I show affection to you is rather understated and ambiguous, by Tatoo standards, and that leaving things unsaid isn’t enough.”

“...Obi-Wan?”

“I consider you my brother,” Obi-Wan says, into this hug that is stiff and uncomfortable, but sincere and full of effort. “And I do love you very much, dear one, even if I’m rather unpracticed in showing it in ways that would... translate, shall we say.”

“Oh,” Anakin says, because he can’t think of anything else. He hugs back.

There’s a moment there, where Obi-Wan relaxes and Anakin shifts, and everything feels just a tiny bit more right, and then someone coughs.

“If you two are done?” Fett drawls, and Anakin mourns as Obi-Wan huffs and pulls away, hands back to being tucked into his sleeves in front of him.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan says back, with the strained smirk of someone who’s been dealing with the same frustrating sentient for a solid week without the option of just bashing their face in.

Fett rolls his eyes, and gestures for them to follow him. “I’ve got a bunch of the Alphas and CCs waiting on you, along with anyone we know for sure has a Jedi soulmate. Kenobi’s already spoken with them all, got confirmation that we probably haven’t missed any connections.”

“I know the list of everyone who reported a CC or CT soul mark to the Council,” Obi-Wan huffs. “I have it memorized.”

“Because of Anakin?” Padme asks.

“His mark came in when he was ten,” Obi-Wan says. “I was his legal guardian until very recently. Given the circumstances, it was reasonable that most of the information on the ident-code marking situation be shared with me in the same way that his school reports and medical records were. He was a minor until a year ago, Senator, and as you so rightly pointed out, my role in his life is certainly that of the family member who raised him for the past decade.

“Master,” Anakin hisses, well aware of his blush. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Obi-Wan looks at him, amused. “I’m told that’s rather the point, dear one.”

Padme looks away, clearly fighting back a grin, and Fett’s expression is mocking, at best.

They enter the section of the facility where other people are a moment later, and Anakin is... not quite as ready for the sea of identical faces as he thought he’d be. One small boy in different tunics from the rest runs up to Fett with a call of ‘Buir!’ and falls into step with them, grabbing Fett’s hand and peering curiously at the rest of them.

“This is Boba,” Fett tells them. “He’s the only unaltered one.”

“The one you claimed at birth,” Padme clarifies.

“Decanting!” Boba pipes up, and then smiles winningly at Padme. “I wasn’t born. I was decanted. He claimed me at decanting.”

Fett looks like he wants to run a hand down his face. “Yes, Boba’s the clone that was provided to me as part of the payment I demanded when I first signed on to the project. He’s the only one I technically have legal claim to.”

“All the others are Kaminoan property until claimed by the Senate or Jedi,” Obi-Wan adds, and Fett nods in his direction. “Preferably the Jedi, of course.”

“The Nulls are with Kal Skirata,” Boba pipes up. “He adopted all of them and Kaminiise didn’t care that much because they thought the Nulls were all failed experiments anyway.”

Fett grimaces at the look that gets him from Padme. “They’re not mine. None of them would have wanted to be, anyway, but it stands that I haven’t spoken with them in years.”

“They’re precedent,” Padme corrects. “One I should have been made of aware of if you want this to work. Can you put me in contact with this Skirata individual? What’s his, and their, citizenship status?”

Anakin steps back to Obi-Wan as Padme drills Fett for information, and keeps his eyes wandering for threats--unlikely, if Fett is genuine, and Obi-Wan says he is--and trying to figure out the best way to keep track of which clone is which. They do feel different in the Force, but Anakin’s not as used to using that sense for identification as most Jedi. He sees a few scars and tattoos, but he thinks he’s going to have to--

Oh.

“Anakin? Why did you stop?”

Anakin ignores his master, because one of the clones, one he can’t even see, is glowing so strong and right and calling to him...

“Anakin, please answer me.”

“I can feel him,” Anakin breathes out. “My soulmate. I think I can feel him, in the Force.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, relaxing. “Yes, that tends to happen, when we look. Fett assured us that he’d be at the meeting, dear. Just a few more hallways to go.”

Those hallways pass in a blur, because he’s there his soulmate is there and--

A room, full of clones that look older than Anakin, for all that they can’t be, and more clones that don’t.

There’s a clone in full kit, helmet included, but Anakin knows, just knows, that this one is his.

“Troopers!” Fett barks. “Kenobi’s brought some friends in. Senator Amidala’s going to be working on the citizenship bill with us. The other Jedi is Anakin Skywalker. You can guess why he’s--”

The fully-armored soldier takes a half-step forward.

Fett sighs. “By the ka’ra, Rex, you’re going to embarrass yourself and me. Take your bucket off, kid, let him see you.”

“Some tact, Fett,” Obi-Wan snaps, and for all that it’s quiet and intended to be subtle, the clones absolutely hear him.

They also seem amused. Apparently Obi-Wan’s been hanging about for long enough that he and Fett have a dynamic, one the clones have gotten used to and find hilarious.

Anakin only sort of notices this, because the clone in armor, still unpainted, pulls off his helmet and for all that it’s the exact same face as Anakin’s seen a thousand times over in the last fifteen minutes, there’s something uniquely beautiful that has nothing to do with the blonde hair or the nervous smile.

“You’re Rex?” Anakin asks, even though he’s sure, he’s absolutely convinced, that this young man is his soulmate.

“Yes,” the young clone says. He looks about Anakin’s age, and Fett’s told them time and again that the clones are basically the age they look, for the most part. Anakin’s going to take it slow anyway.

“Obi-Wan already said it, but, um, I’m Anakin,” he says, and tries to find something to do with his hands that isn’t just taking his soulmate and hugging him ‘til all the suns set. He looks down, and settles for mimicking Obi-Wan and just tucking them into his sleeves. He looks up at Rex, and tries to smile, but he’s so nervous about all of this that it probably doesn’t look like much. He thinks he hears someone snickering.

“Oh good,” someone mumbles. “They’re both hopeless.”

Anakin snaps his head around and glowers at the little group the comment came from, but he has no idea which one said it. All four look amused, and have varying degrees of shit-eating grin in place.

“If you didn’t outrank him, Rex would totally be shooting you right now,” little Boba says. “I think he’d deserve to do that.”

Anakin doesn’t have to strain at all to hear Fett’s groan.

“Alright,” one of the older clones says, and everyone stands a little straighter. An authority among the clones? Official, or more of an informal primus inter pares situation? “Rex’ika and his Jedi can go get to know one another, and none of us are going to make fun of them for it, because I know damn well how many of you have been mooning over the idea of your soulmates despite knowing literally nothing about them.”

“So’ve you, Alpha!”

“You want a boot up your ass, Wolffe? Because if you keep talking, that’s what you’re getting.”

“Boys,” Fett says, and they settle down. “Now, the Senator has some questions for you, and you’re going to comply when she asks, because it’s going to keep your little brothers alive. You understand?”

One clone raises a hand, and Fett sighs.

“Yes, and little sisters, Valierra,” he adds. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “kriffing Basic.”

(Anakin later learns that Mando’a is not a gendered language, and Fett’s frustration is entirely about the fact that ‘brothers’ isn’t gender neutral. Anakin tries to ask why he doesn’t just say ‘sibling’ or use the Mando’a word, and there’s apparently a whole thing with some instructors wanting to encourage the clones to learn to be Mandalorian, and others wanting to cut them off from anything to do with the planet.)

(Anakin... tries to understand. He’s still confused about why ‘siblings’ isn’t on the table.)

“Go on, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated. “We can catch you up later.”

“I got enough from Beru,” Padme assures him. “You can pop in to help us fine-tune later.”

Anakin nods, just a short jerk of his head, and then looks to Rex. The man is glaring at a little at a little group of other clones, but when Anakin reaches out and takes his hand--takes his hand--Rex turns and stares at him with wide eyes and a flush that Anakin’s sure he’s mirroring.

“We should talk,“ he blurts out, and he can feel Obi-Wan’s despair at how completely inept Anakin is at this whole ‘personal interactions’ thing, but that’s fine, because Obi-Wan’s a bit of a slut, and Anakin doesn’t flirt with everyone he meets, and he’s been waiting for his soulmate like a sensible person.

(“Or a romantic,” Vos had pointed out, once. “Most people date at least a little if they don’t meet their soulmate by, like, fifteen. I mean, culturally I understand why you want to wait until you meet your soulmate, but it’s not really a matter of sensibility, just personal preference. Obi-Wan’s not less sensible for sleeping around.”)

(Anakin does not like this argument, and so he ignores it.)

(Well, no, he agrees that people should be allowed to flirt if they want, but he doesn’t like the implication he’s gotten from a few other padawans about how he’s ‘awkward’ for not knowing how to talk to people that he wants to impress somehow.)

(So, he’s going to claim it’s sensibility.)

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Kriff off, Ponds!” Rex barks out, immediately pinging on the exact clone that said the words, and Anakin bites a lip to keep from laughing at them both.

“Out,” Fett orders. “We’ve got shit to do, stop being a distraction.”

“Being a distraction, my dear, is a skill that Anakin’s put far too much effort into developing just to drop it on your command,” Obi-Wan says, light and airy and not at all like he just dragged Anakin and Fett for no Force-damned reason.

“Come on,” Rex mutters, tugging Anakin to the door with a blush that only grows as the other clones catcall them on the way out of the room. Anakin hears at least one particularly dirty comment get cut off by a smacking noise and a reprimand from a clone he thinks is probably Alpha.

The second they’re out of sight, Rex slows down, and glances back at Anakin.

Anakin tries to smile in encouragement. He’s not sure it works, really, but Rex smiles back, so it can’t be that bad.

“Here, Alpha told me to use the mini conference room,” Rex tells him, when the get to a nondescript door with a number on it. “It’s not completely secure, but we can lock the door so it’s mostly private.”

“Can I kiss you?” Anakin asks, and then has to fight to not clap a hand over his mouth.

He was going to go slow. He was a moron who’d promised himself to go slow. Rex is mostly an adult but there are ways in which he isn’t, and Anakin might not be fully an adult either, but that’s not really an excuse, and--

“Yes, please,” Rex says, and oh Anakin really likes the shy grin on him. It’s pretty.

(This man, he thinks, could easily bench press Anakin a few times over, but he’s blushing like a storybook maiden, and he’s doing it for Anakin.)

Anakin moves slowly, because this isn’t something he has much practice with either, but he takes Rex’s face in his hands and leans in, pressing their lips together with only the slightest tilt of his head, just barely less than chaste, and a firework goes off inside his ribcage.

His soulmate! He’s kissing his soulmate!

There’s a ‘stop projecting’ nudge from Obi-Wan in the Force. Anakin tosses up a shield and focuses back on the kissing. He pulls away, and the goes to just... peck a bit. Just small, chaste, tiny kisses because he doesn’t want to stop. Because for all that they just met a few minutes ago, this feels right.

Warm hands, larger than his own and steady in a way he thinks he really likes, settle on his hips.

“We--mm--really should talk,” Rex manages, and Anakin... well, Anakin stops kissing him.

Rex apparently likes it as much as Anakin does, because he lifts up onto his toes to kiss Anakin again before fully breaking off. He grins, clearly sheepish, and shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Anakin says, and then Rex pulls him down to press their foreheads together, radiating warmth and hope and affection that Anakin hasn’t earned yet, but is definitely going to.

“This is a Keldabe kiss,” Rex says, and his nose brushes against Anakin’s as he shifts. His hands are still on Anakin’s waist, and Anakin decides to wrap his arms around Rex’s shoulders. It’s nice. “I like, um, I like the other kind of kissing too, but this means a lot to me, and it’s one of those Mandalorian things they actually let us pick up.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says, and he, hells, he hasn’t even asked for proof of the soul marks, but he doesn’t need to, really, with the Force as insistent as it is. “So. Talk?”

“Yeah. Let’s talk.”

[justanobsessedfangirl]

The Sacrifice Part 1 - The Maze Runner Minho Imagine

Request from @elizabeth-brown hey when your requests will be open can you do 'the maze runner' one with minho. where one day when new greenie was coming up he had letter with him. on it there was written that if they sacrificed y/n they would let everyone out. so keepers decided to vote. most of them voted 'yes' so without any emotions Alby kick y/n into the maze. then minho realized his feelings. y/n survived the maze and WCKED took her. after one year she escaped WCKED and ran into the scorch. Minho missed her miserably. y/n searched the safe heaven. and when Group A searched safe heaven they saw y/n and she was so mad. you can end it however you want either she forgives them or not. and please tag me

Masterlist

Part 2

Warning: Some mature language

Author’s Note: Thanks for waiting! I changed up the request a little (I think?) but there will probably be a part 2 so I can do the stuff outside the Glade. Hope you like it! Also, I know it seems like my requests aren’t open because I take forever to post, but I swear they are. :)

Word Count: 4.6k

The Box came up every month like clockwork. Half an hour before its arrival, a blaring alarm would sound. Gladers would trickle in from the Gardens, the Med-jack Hut, the Homestead, and gather around the hole. Those who had requested items would push their way to the front. Others lingered around the edges, hoping for a glimpse of the new Greenie.

“Maybe it’ll be another girl,” they’d whisper.

“Maybe it’ll be another shank,” their friends would whisper back, and the boys would shove each other and laugh and make jokes until the Box slotted into place and the roof slid away, revealing the Glade’s next victim.

You were an unnatural fit to the routine. You’d disrupted it right from the beginning, with your arrival as the first female Glader. Now, months later, you still hadn’t formed many strong bonds. It was hard when you were rarely in the Glade during the day, spending most of your hours mapping the Maze. No one was directly cruel when you had a day off, but it was clear that this was a brotherhood, and you did not meet the requirements. You were an “other.” You were a girl. You were something to be looked at and talked about but you weren’t necessarily someone.

You didn’t feel like an outsider when you ran with Minho. He treated you like a person. Like a friend. So did Newt, although your time with him was limited to bonfires, where you drank Gally’s moonshine and talked.

Just the memories of those nights made you feel warm, even as you stood apart from the boys around the Box and prayed for another girl to appear. You stood on your tiptoes and tried to peer over the crowd. Through gaps and over heads, you caught a glimpse of a boy in the Box. He was younger than you, probably younger than most of the people in the Glade, with curly brown hair, round pink cheeks, and wide, fear-filled eyes. 

Alby jumped down into the Box. Laughter rose from the crowd as the young Greenie backpedaled so wildly that he tripped over his feet and slammed onto his butt. Next to you, a group of Gladers jeered. You frowned at them, watching their smiles slip into sneers. They looked away from you. Inside the Box, the Greenie cried, “Please don’t hurt me!” His already high, youthful voice was pitched even higher with terror.

You felt a stab in your chest. He sounded so young, so alone, so scared. Taking a step forward, you came to the edge of a thick knot of Gladers. They catcalled and hollered and cackled, slapping each other on the backs. One noticed you and quickly jerked away like you were contagious.

Cheeks burning, you stepped back again. You gave the crowd one last look, heard the Greenie blubber one last time, and headed for the Homestead, where there was no one to make you feel unwelcome or weak for feeling sympathy for the new Greenie.

Besides, you thought bitterly, they might make fun of him now, but he’ll still be one of them.

A few Gladers saw you go; most were focused on the Greenie, who Alby was trying to coax to his side of the Box, where someone had dropped a length of rope. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Alby said. Impatience wore thin on his voice. “Just come over here.”

The Greenie stayed curled in a ball in the middle of the Box.

Alby shook his head. Turning to the pair of boys above him, he lowered his voice and said, “Do you think Y/N could try to get him out?”

The Gladers looked at each other.

“Isn’t she running today?” one asked.

“I haven’t seen her all day,” the other added.

Alby frowned. “Fine,” he sighed, “we’ll do it the hard way.”

At that, the two Gladers joined Alby in the Box. The Greenie’s eyes bulged as they approached. He tried to scoot back. In seconds, the pair was on him, lifting him as easily as if he weighed nothing. They toted him to the rope.

The Greenie gasped. “Wait! Wait! I dropped it!”

Alby waved the boys on before they could stop. “I’ll get it.” While the Gladers hoisted the Greenie out, Alby walked to the center of the Box. Laying on the metal floor was a card of paper, pristinely white save for the 10 grimy fingerprints of the crying Greenie. Alby knelt, picked it up, flipped it over, and froze.

It seemed like an eternity before he stood again. Around him, the Gladers still talked and laughed. Around him, the Gladers still thought they were following their routine.

Holding the note in his hand, Alby commanded, “Gathering in the Homestead. Now.” After a beat of silence, he added, “If Y/N’s here, bring her.”

The Glade burst into a flurry of activity. Boys scrambled, yelling the news. Their Keepers chastised them and handed out work orders like candy. Feeling brave and uninhibited and a little frenzied, Gladers complained and groaned and manhandled each other and ran. The new Greenie was handed off to a Builder, then a Slicer, then rescued by a Gardener. A pack of Gladers took off for the Homestead.

You’d barely made it inside before your moment of alone time was shattered. The boys whooped and hollered and shouted as they sprinted toward you.

“Gathering!”

“You have to go!”

“Alby called for a Gathering!

Their voices came at you like bullets, one after another after another. Your questions fell on deaf ears. “Why a Gathering? Now? Did you say I have to go?”

They kept talking to each other, ignoring you even as they pushed you farther inside, pushed you toward the meeting room, pushed you like you couldn’t even walk by yourself. You shoved away from them and entered the room on your own two shaky feet. Only a few of the Gladers followed, taking their seats as Keepers.

With a sick sludge of anxiety swirling in your stomach, you looked around the room. You’d never been to a Gathering before, although you’d listened to Minho complain about how boring they were many times. The room was small, the only furniture a crudely made table surrounded by twelve seats, one for each Keeper plus Alby and Newt. There was no seat for you. You were not supposed to be here.

“Clint, what’s going on?”

The Keeper of the Med-jacks looked up at the sound of your voice. He’d been staring at the tabletop, tracing his finger along the wood grain. His hands were thin, his fingers long, and they held a delicate strength, accustomed to wrapping wounds and sewing stitches. “Alby called a Gathering,” Clint said.

“Yeah, I figured that part out. Why? And why am I here?” You tried to keep your emotions under control. Clint didn’t need to know you were a little annoyed, a little angry, a little worried. Clint and the growing mob of Keepers filing into the room didn’t need to know you were scared.

Clint looked to the head of the table. Two empty chairs sat waiting. “Alby didn’t explain much. I think it was something to do with the Greenie.”

“The Greenie?” you asked, just as someone gave you a harsh nudge to the side. You whipped around and found yourself staring up at Gally.

“Don’t block the doorway,” he snapped. Before you could reply, Gally was walking past you, settling into the seat closest to the head of the table.

Most of the chairs were filled now. Some Keepers looked at you, others talked with their neighbors, and a few, like Clint, seemed like they’d rather be anywhere else but here. You lingered by the door. After a couple of minutes, Alby and Newt entered together.

You knew something was wrong immediately. Alby’s face, stoic at the best of times, was downright grim, like he’d just witnessed a terrible crime against humanity. Newt wouldn’t even lift his eyes to yours. His skin had taken on a pallor, pale white tinged with sickly green.

“Alby-”

Alby interrupted you. “Where’s Minho?”

You weren’t sure if he was asking you or the Keepers, but you answered anyway. “He’s running. What’s going-”

Cursing under his breath, Alby strode to the head of the table. “Someone got the schedules mixed up,” he fumed. “They thought you were running today. Minho is supposed to be here.”

“Maybe we should wait-”

“This can’t wait, Newt. You know that.” Alby shot Newt’s suggestion down before it even had time to breathe. “Y/N, take Minho’s seat. And someone shut the door.”

You didn’t like the way Alby was barking out orders or the way Newt had slumped into his seat like an admonished puppy. The whole world was off-kilter, just slightly, but enough that you felt nauseous and hyper-aware. Clint was still picking at the table. Winston was sitting next to Gally, who was staring daggers at you, and Zart, who had his arms crossed and was sitting straight in his chair, looked disgusted at something Doug, the Keeper of the Sloppers, had just said. Frypan was the one to get up and close the door, giving you a reassuring smile as he walked. You slowly made your way around the table to the only empty chair. It was across from Gally, right next to the side that Alby and Newt sat behind. 

Newt flinched away from you as you sat. Alby eyed you, waiting, waiting, waiting, and, finally, with the door closed and you perched on Minho’s chair, ready to bolt, he said, “We’re holding a Gathering because of this.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “The new Greenie was holding it.”

Down the table, Winston smirked. “Is that why he was crying? Poor thing can’t read?”

You frowned. One of the Keepers, Billy, chuckled lightly.

Alby ignored them and continued, “It’s a note from the Creators.” A few murmurs arose; Alby didn’t speak until it was silent again. “It says,” he cleared his throat and, next to him, Newt looked as if he might puke. “It says, ‘The Glade is failing. Show you can follow instructions and you will be released.’” Alby paused.

Unlike before, the Keepers stayed quiet. You were on the edge of your seat, listening with bated breath, like all of the others. Maybe the instructions involved finding something in the Maze? You knew you could help with that, and maybe Alby knew it too, and that’s why he’d made you attend the Gathering. You could nearly taste the freedom on your lips. Under the table, your legs shook with excitement, energy, adrenaline -- everything that made you feel alive. What would life be like outside the Glade? 

“Tell them the instructions, Alby,” Newt whispered, voice strained.

Your hopeful heartbeat faltered.

Alby’s eyes flicked up from the paper, met yours, and shot back down.

Something like dread filled your chest.

“‘Show you can follow instructions and you will be released,’” Alby repeated. He drew a deep breath before continuing. “Sacrifice Y/N to the Maze. Tonight.’”

One second passed. Inside that second, there was an eternity, an infinity, a lifetime. Your lifetime. Every limb of your body became paralyzed. You felt liquid. You felt insubstantial and invisible, only you were the farthest thing from invisible, because every single person in the room, all ten Keepers and Alby and Newt, even Newt, who wouldn’t meet your eyes before because he’d already condemned you to death, was staring.

And then the room roared.

“They’re lying!”

“That’s insane!”

“They can’t ask us to do that!”

“We can’t trust them!”

“I’m not doing that!”

“What if it’s true?”

The last voice, soft, barely audible, silenced everyone.

You stared at Gally, jaw dropped. “What?” You could barely speak above a whisper. Your vocal cords were constricting, choking you. Every breath felt like your last.

Gally’s gaze stayed on the letter in Alby’s hands. His eyes were glazed and his whole demeanor, normally stubborn and stand-offish, had shifted into quiet contemplation. “What if it’s true?” he murmured. “What if this is our way out? What if this is what we’ve been waiting for?”

The other Keepers began to speak. Instead of ardent protestations, you heard questions. So many questions and no definitive answers, except for Gally’s. The room spun around you, swirling, swirling, swirling. Your skin was flushed and cold and sweating and freezing all at the same time.

“He might be right,” you heard.

In an instant, you shot to your feet. The chair that Minho should have been sitting in clattered to the floor, silencing the Keepers. “Guys, this-this is insane,” you pleaded. Every face was a blur, a smear, no distinguishable people anywhere. You didn’t know a single boy in this room. “The Creators have never asked us to do something like this. They locked us in here! They-they...they put monsters in the Maze to kill us!”

“Maybe not to kill us.” Billy, the Keeper of the Baggers, was a boy of few words. He never seemed to have much to say, maybe because he’d gotten used to such solitary work. Most of the time, the only Gladers he was around were dead. “Maybe the monsters are there to kill you.”

Panicked tears burned in the corners of your eyes. Gally was nodding. So was Winston. Too many of them were nodding or looking down, pretending they didn’t have a say, hope gleaming in their eyes and betraying their thoughts.

You turned to your leaders. “Alby, this can’t--we can’t--”

“We’re going to vote on it.”

You switched tactics. “Newt. Newt, please, please look at me. This is crazy. We can get out without doing this, we can--I’ll run more and we’ll...we’ll figure something out, just, please, don’t--please just look at me.”

Newt slowly lifted his head. In the background, the Keepers talked, rising from their seats, growing more animated, more determined. Unshed tears glimmered in Newt’s eyes. “Y/N,” he said, and in your name you heard an apology. “This could be our only chance.”

“It can’t be.” You moved forward, desperate. “It can’t be our only chance, we’ll figure something out, I know we can, we just need to--” You were babbling and stepping closer and your hands reached out to grab his arms, to shake him, to knock some sense into all of them, and then Alby’s low, commanding voice rang out, ordering everyone to sit, and you were left standing, crying, terrified, and so, so, so alone.

“If anyone wants to see the note, there.” Alby dropped it onto the table. Across from you, Gally picked it up, scanned it, and passed it to the boy next to him, Winston. From Winston to Billy to Clint to Frypan to Ozzy to Doug to Zart to Leon. To you. With trembling hands, you held the note, saw the words, tried to read them and make sense of them, only nothing made sense at all.

Sacrifice Y/N to the Maze. Sacrifice Y/N. Sacrifice sacrifice sacrifice.

The more you repeated it in your head, the less real it sounded. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be happening.

“We have to make a decision,” Alby said.

Lungs squeezing painfully, you tried to speak. No words came out.

“I think it’s obvious,” Gally said. “Everything changed as soon as she got here. Now the Creators want us to do something, so we should do it.” He sounded more certain the more he spoke, his voice and words building to a persuasive, powerful crescendo.

“We could get out,” Winston added eagerly.

Clint pushed back his chair and slowly rose to his feet. He looked uncomfortable being the center of attention. One of his hands stayed on the table, scrambling for support. “I think it’s important,” he said, “that we think this through and give it the weight it deserves. This is someone’s life we’re talking about.”

It’s my life, you wanted to scream. I’ve tried to be a part of your group! I’m a Glader!

Clint continued. “But we also have to think about everyone else, too. I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am. But your sacrifice could mean that everyone else here can live.” Clint sunk back into his seat. “My vote is to obey the Creators.”

“Clint--” You were drowned out by Gally and Winston and Billy agreeing, formally voting to kill you. Gally nodded down at Ozzy, the Keeper of the Bricknicks, and then Ozzy said, “I vote to obey the Creators too.”

Leon agreed next. Leon, the Keeper of the Maps, who you’d spoken to nearly every day since becoming a Runner. Leon, who you’d sometimes traded jokes with and complimented for his drawing skills. Leon, who, after voting, said, “I’ve spent all of my time in the Glade trying to get out,” like it was an explanation you wanted to hear. Like it would mean it was okay for them to throw your life away. He wouldn’t look at you, still standing, half-slumped against the table as your legs wobbled with each vote that damned you to being ripped apart by Grievers.

“Guys, please,” you said, or you thought you said, but maybe they didn’t hear because now Frypan was standing up.

“I haven’t seen a Griever up close, I don’t know what it’s like in the Maze, and I don’t know what it’s like to patch up people who have done all of that. I know that Y/N’s a Glader. That’s all I need. I vote no.” Frypan nodded at you and sat back down, his normally easy-going face creased in deep thought.

One voice. One against six. But one was all you needed; one gave you a shot of strength, enough for you to straighten up, to open your mouth, to instead hear Doug say, “I haven’t done any of that either but I know that I don’t want to spend another goddamn minute in this Glade. I vote yes.”

The room spun. You looked down at your hands, found them in your lap, realized you were sitting but couldn’t remember ever doing so. Everything was slipping through your fingers so fast, too fast, impossibly fast.

Seven.

“My vote doesn’t matter much now,” Zart began, his words ponderous and slow. “But I vote no.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, as if daring anyone to question him.

Gally turned his attention to Alby and Newt instead. “So we’re doing it?”

Alby frowned. Newt buried his face in his hands. You thought you might pass out.

“Seven is a majority. It doesn’t matter our votes,” Alby said. “Or Minho’s.”

“Or mine.” The table turned to you. “I don’t get a say in any of this? It’s my life.” You knew your voice was too high-pitched, too warbled, too girlish to be taken seriously. You swallowed and it came out even more panicked. “You can’t just kill me with a one-vote difference, you can’t just--”

“It wouldn’t be a one-vote difference. I vote to obey the Creators.” Alby stared unwaveringly at you. “Newt agreed before the Gathering. That makes it nine to four, assuming Minho would vote not to obey.”

“Why?” It came out strangled and mangled and desperate.

“For the Glade,” Alby responded.

Newt suddenly looked up, shaking his head. “No, no, I take my vote back. I vote no. We can’t do this, Alby.”

“Eight to five. The majority says to obey. It happens tonight.”

“Alby--” “Alby, please,” You and Newt protested together, but Alby’s voice boomed over both of yours. “Gathering over. Gally, Winston, take Y/N to the Pit until tonight.”

Newt stood up too fast and stumbled, nearly crashing into the table. “We can’t put her in the Pit!”

The sound of arguing and chairs being pushed back washed over you, filling your ears with white noise. Chills raced up and down your spine, sending a clamminess to your hands and feet. You were going to die. You were going to be torn apart by Grievers, the very monsters you’d spent so much time running away from. It was almost ironic, really, and you almost laughed until you realized it was a sob, until you realized there were tears streaming down your face and there were two sets of hands grabbing you by the arms and hoisting you up and leading you out of the room and down the hall, practically dragging you for all of the good your feet did. And then you were in the doorway of a dark, windowless room, and Newt was standing in front of you. He enveloped you in a hug, spewing apologies about the vote and the room and your fate. All too soon, he pulled away. You saw his brown eyes and tear-streaked face. You saw the door close. You saw darkness.

You sagged to the floor and cried.

Hours passed. The room had no windows for you to watch the sun move across the sky, silently counting down to the end of your life. You had tried a few times to shove the door open,  but you only succeeded in bursting out between two strong Gladers. After the first time, they were ready for any attempt of yours to sprint past. Sometimes their voices would seep through the cracks in the wood. Apologies and excuses and pleas for you to please, just please, do this one thing for the Glade and help them all survive.

Part of you thought they were right. What if your sole purpose was to be a sacrifice? But then you thought of Minho and running and laughing and the few flickering memories you had from before the Glade, of an older couple smiling at you or the warm feeling of being loved, and you remembered how it felt to be alive. And you knew that it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, for anyone but you to get to decide your death.

Your time alone helped you think. It helped you settle yourself, calm your mind, and dry your tears. But as soon as the door opened and you saw the sunlight fading from the hallway, all of your carefully planned entreaties faded from your lips. Your throat went dry with impending doom.

“It’s time. Alby’s waiting by the Maze,” one of the Gladers said. You didn’t even know who he was. Why hadn’t you gotten closer to him? To all of them? Maybe if you hadn’t been so solitary, maybe you could have...or they could have...or maybe...

“What’s your name?” you heard yourself ask as the guards flanked you down the hall.

He gave you a look of confusion. “Rob.”

“Rob,” you repeated. Rob led the way outside. You glanced over your shoulder at the other Glader. “What about you?”

“I’m David,” the one behind you answered. He hastened to walk beside you. David had stubby legs, two of his steps matching one of yours. You picked up your pace. Rob matched it easily; David lagged.

Over the Glade, the sun was nearly below the horizon. Gladers milled about but kept their distance from you, trying not to stare at the doomed prisoner. It was like you were already dead. And no one cared.

The wall loomed high above you, growing as your entourage got closer and closer. Huddled near one of the entrances was a group of Gladers. When you neared a hundred feet away from them, you slowed. David followed suit immediately. Rob’s lengthy strides shortened.

“David, Rob,” you addressed them by name, not looking at either even as they faced you. “Thanks for walking with me.” Then you bolted for the Maze.

David had no chance of catching up to you, Rob was just stunned enough to give you the head start you needed, and the group of Gladers only shouted as you closed the distance to the door.

My choice, the pounding of your feet seemed to shout. My choice. My life. You may have been minutes away from death, but you had never felt so alive. Adrenaline flooded your body. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. All of the cold fear had been replaced by the warmth of energy. One last choice, you thought. The open door called to you. 20 feet. 5 feet. You’d just crossed the entrance when one voice made itself known above the crowd.

“Y/N!”

Every muscle tensed, you spun around to see Minho sprinting after you, the group of Gladers following, none as fast as your partner. He crashed into you with the tightest hug of your life. Your body reacted before your mind knew how; you hugged him back.

“I couldn’t let you go without seeing you,” Minho blurted, his lips an inch from your ear. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t…” he trailed off. Loosening his hold, he pulled back enough to see your face. He stared at you like he wanted to memorize you. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am, Y/N, I can’t let you do this yourself. With two of us we could--”

“Die. We’d both die.” You pulled him close again, burying your head back in the crook of his neck, hating the fear in his eyes. You’d wanted your last memory of him to be a smile, not this.

He spoke more softly now. “If we had supplies, I bet we could do it. I’ll raid the kitchen, the Med-jack Hut, bring us weapons. We could find the way out. You don’t have to die. You can’t die.”

You wanted him to stop talking, because you couldn’t extinguish the little flame of hope blooming in your chest if he kept feeding it. “Minho-”

Minho cut you off. “You can do this, Y/N. You’re fast, faster than me, and a hell of a lot smarter than all of these shanks combined. Survive the night. Survive the night and I can bring you supplies tomorrow.” His voice had an edge to it, a fierce desperation you’d never heard from Minho. Inside his encouragement, he was pleading with you. “Fuck, Y/N, please survive the night. Meet me at the intersection past the west door when the sun rises. I fell there the first time we ran together, remember? I said it was because you ran funny and it made me lose concentration but it was actually because you looked so beautiful in the sunrise that I couldn’t think.” He took a deep breath. Your heart beat too quickly, running on hope and support and maybe a little bit of love. When Minho spoke again, his voice was solemn, “I’ll find you, I swear to God. We’ll figure it out together. We’ll get out together.”

“I’ll survive.” You were lying. “I’ll try.” Was that another lie? Everything was moving too quickly.

Alby’s voice stopped you from thinking any further. “It’s time,” he intoned. 

From your place in Minho’s arms, you saw that the group of Gladers, composed mostly of Keepers, had surrounded you in a semicircle. The way forward was blocked; your only way out was the Maze.

You and Minho separated slowly. Behind you, the Maze rumbled. Still, Minho held your hand in his, looking physically pained. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, hoping, desperate, pleading. 

You nodded.

Minho shook his head. “Please say it back, Y/N. Please.”

You glanced at the door starting to close, then at Alby, who stared hard-eyed at you and motioned for the Gladers to press in. You couldn’t find Newt in the crowd. Minho’s hand was heavy and warm in yours. Comforting.

With your last moments in the Glade, you darted close to Minho, pressed your lips to his cheek, and then slipped away from him, entering the Maze. The door thudded closed behind you. The sun had set. You were alone.

[missymurphy1985]

Surprises

You and Cillian are on your babymoon, 4 weeks before your first baby's due date. You think you've got lots of time.. your baby has other ideas...

Warnings - childbirth, swearing

*******************************************************

Cillian lifted your suitcase out of the car and carried it into your holiday home in Kerry, you were on strict orders not to lift a finger. 36 weeks pregnant with your first child together, you sighed, trying to remind him you were pregnant, not disabled, but he wasn't having any of it.

"Can I get out of the car now please, your baby is using my bladder as a trampoline!" Cillian laughed and opened the car door for you, taking your hand to lead you out carefully.

"Watch your step, there's rocks all over the path y/n..."

"Cill for the love of God, how many times have we been here? I'm fine, now let me go pee before I do it all over this rocky path, yeah?" You loved how caring and attentive he was being, but it was becoming really overbearing after 8 months.

"I'm just worried about you..."

"Baby I'm fine, the baby is fine, and my legs work just fine, thank you.." you kissed him lightly and walked to the toilet on the ground floor. Okay, it was more of a waddle, but close enough. He had good reason to worry. His ex wife had suffered terribly during both her pregnancies, and he was watching you like a hawk, terrified you'd be the same. You hadn't though, you were strong as an ox and took every day in your stride, enjoying every second knowing it was likely to be your only pregnancy now Cillian was 45 and you were 34. This one certainly wasn't planned, but was very much looked forward to.

Once Cillian had unpacked, and you'd eaten dinner, you were lazing on the sofa watching TV. Your legs hanging over his lap, him gently rubbing his fingers over your swollen ankles.

"Have you decided on names yet?" You questioned.

"I can't choose, I thought you were deciding?"

"Okay, how about we each write a list of our favourites, and we'll go through them one by one?" You went to grab a pen before Cillian glared at you and went to get it himself. You chuckled, how dare you move so heavily pregnant!!

Once you'd written your lists, you sat next to each other of the sofa and began to read from them in turn.

"Sofia."

"Nansy."

"Jacob."

"Daniel."

Each one getting a grimace from the other.

"This is hopeless," you threw the pen down in a huff. "We've been doing this for months, how is it so difficult to choose a bloody name??"

"Baby neither of my boys had names til they were born - we chose days later for them. They just came to us. There's no rush here I promise." You smiled thinking of Aran and Malachy, how excited they were for the new baby you were yet to name. You decided not to find out the gender, you wanted the surprise.

"I'm beat, I think I'm heading to bed. Are you joining me?" You lifted yourself off the sofa, with Cillians help.

"No I'm gonna finish this film, it looks good!"

"Cillian, it's Batman. You're in it. Of course it looks good!" He laughed as you waddled your way to the bedroom, telling you he'd be there soon.

On the way up the stairs, you suddenly felt a pain in your lower abdomen. Thinking it was another Braxton Hicks, you paused on the stairs waiting for it to pass.

"Y/n what's wrong?" Cillian was at the bottom of the stairs. He'd heard the stairs creaking, then stop suddenly so came to check on you.

"Just a Braxton Hicks contraction babe, they started in the car on the way over here. Perfectly normal, totally irregular, all is fine, don't worry."

"Why didn't you tell me it was happening??" He started to come up the stairs to you, worry all over his face.

"Because they're nothing to worry about - just a normal part of my body preparing for the real thing, stop panic- ahhhh...." You felt another. Sharper now, all over your belly.

"This ain't normal y/n, come back downstairs. Let's just keep an eye on these for a while, yeah?" He took your hand and led you back to the living room slowly, watching your every move. You rolled your eyes and followed him, knowing arguing was pointless. These were just Braxton Hicks. Weren't they?

Sitting you back on the sofa, Cillian grabbed his phone from his jacket slung over the arm of the chair in the corner. Opening the pregnancy app on his phone he clicked on the Contraction Timer option.

"Now tell me when you feel it, and then when it stops, okay?" He'd barely got the last word out when another hit you, you froze in pain, gripping onto your belly, breathing until it passed.

"Baby? That one really hurt..."

"Okay, let's see about the next few okay? Just breathe. I knew this was a bad idea, coming out so late on..."

"I've still got 4 weeks, there's plenty of time!"

"Yeah I'm not so sure now babe.. let me know when it happens again."

"Fuck... Now... Oh my god...." You found yourself moving forwards, legs open and your hands grabbing the coffee table. "It's gone..." 15 minutes passed with Cillian holding your hand in one and running your back with the other, monitoring each contraction you felt.

"Y/n these are coming every 5 minutes, and lasting 2minutes each time.. I think we need to get to a hospital.."

"No.. these things take time, we don't need to rush. I don't want to get there and be sent home okay? I said in my birth plan I wanted to be home as long as possible..."

"Yeah, birth plans don't always go to plan y/n."

"Cillian don't, just let me be yeah?" Your eyes glistened with tears, fear surging through you. Cillian kissed the top of your head gently. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to snap.. I'm scared Cill! I'm really fucking scared!"

"I know, so am I and I'm not the one doing the work! It'll be okay, okay? I'm here, and we're going to meet our baby soon... Just breathe, yeah? In... Out... Look at me. In... Out..." He was breathing with you trying to calm you down. It was working until another contraction hit and you cried out with the pain. He held you close, rubbing your back.

"How far apart now?" You grimaced, feeling it pass.

"Still 5 minutes. Lasting 2. It's been like that for 30 minutes. What do you want to do babe?"

"Run me a bath?" Cillian sighed. He was desperate to get you to a hospital and be checked over but your glare told him to follow your lead. You knew your body better than him right now.

Cillian carefully lifted your body into the bath while he stroked your hair and whispered in your ear.

"I'm going to teach him how to play football.. he'll have his own little Liverpool kit before he's walking y/n..."

"Oh it's a boy is it? See I can see you learning how to plait hair and play tea parties on a Saturday afternoon!" You giggled.

"It's a boy, I'm telling you. I only make boys, y/n!" Another contraction, but the warm water eased the pain enough for you to focus more on your breathing. Cillian reached a hand in and held your belly, feeling it tighten and wishing nothing more than to take the pain away from you.

"Okay, make the call yeah? Just call our midwife and let her know what's happening." You nodded to Cillian, finally accepting that this indeed was happening. Your baby was on its way.

Cillian kissed your head and dialled the number for the hospital back in Dublin, it suddenly feeling so very far away right now. Ending the call, he turned back to you.

"She's calling the hospital here in Kerry to let them know to expect us - she said with the contractions the way they are there's no rush if you want to stay home a while. But she warned the second they're 3minutes apart and lasting longer, we need to go, okay?" You agreed, before another contraction hit with some urgency. The water not helping the pain of this one. With it, came a popping sensation and a gushing feeling between your legs.

"Cillian, I think my waters have broken!" You were panicking again until Cillian leaned his head against yours breathing with you again to calm you.

"Time to get out of the bath, come on." He lifted you out and wrapped a dressing gown over your shoulders but another contraction hit you before you left the room.

"Fuck.. Cillian, Jesus.... I can't walk..." your breathing becoming louder and more laboured.

"Baby I need you to walk, we've got to get to the car..."

"Okay... Okay... Get the bag.." Cillian led you to the bedroom where the ready made hospital bag lay waiting, he insisted you took it with you just in case. Wrapping the dressing gown over your bump, you grabbed his arms tight as another wave of pain gripped you. He could feel how hard your belly contracted and brought you into his arms, running his hands firmly down your spine as you cried into his chest.

"I don't think I'm going to make it... I can feel the baby moving down... Cillian..." He looked at your panicked face and paled. He recognised that look, he'd seen it twice before. This baby was coming now whether he liked it or not.

Leading you to the bed he lay you against the pillows gently.

"Fuck... Okay I'm calling an ambulance... Wait there y/n."

"The fuck you think I'm gonna go Cillian??! Disneyland?!" You gasped as another wave of pain took you. "Fuck don't leave me! Please!" Cillian had the phone to his ear talking to the ambulance service. Nodding to whoever he was talking to, he opened your legs and went to grab towels from the closet in the corner of the room. Y/n was panting now, screaming with the pain.

"Cillian I can't hold it!! I need to push! Baby please!" Cillian looked over and saw his baby's head starting to crown between y/n's legs. Feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline, he took charge.

"Okay, push.. come on that's it! Keep going you can do this baby.. push!" You beared down with all your strength, the burning feeling taking your breath away. You could hear the operator on the phone giving Cillian instructions.

"The baby's crowning y/n, don't push... Just pant with me through it.. okay??" He panted with you, one ear on the phone, one eye on his baby, one hand in yours as you squeezed the life out of it. You couldn't hold back a scream as your baby's head finally broke through. A moment's respite, before another contraction hit.

Cillian moved to between your legs quickly, the operator constantly giving instructions. He put the phone on loudspeaker.

"Okay... Y/n look at me. Push! Just a few more and he's here, come on baby..." You looked into his eyes, feeling the strength from them and bore down once again. Cillian was between your legs, listening to the operator as they guided him through delivering your baby. Two more hard pushes and the room was suddenly filled with the sound of your baby's loud cry. You flung your head backwards, completely breathless, as you burst into tears at the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard. Within moments, paramedics had arrived, bursting through the open front door downstairs.

Cillian was in shock, in his arms he held his daughter, the most beautiful, perfect little girl he'd ever laid eyes on. He took one of the towels and cleaned her off as best he could, and lifted her onto her mother's chest, tears rolling down his cheeks. Y/n looked down at her baby, still sobbing.

"A girl... Cillian it's a girl!"

"You did it.. you fucking did it y/n, I'm so proud of you... She's perfect..." He kissed your forehead as the paramedics found their way into the room to check you both over.

Giving mum and baby a clean bill of health, they allowed you to remain home with your baby. Even though she was 4 weeks early, everything was completely fine. Once you'd managed to clean off and relax back in bed in the guest room (Cillian promising to clean the main bedroom the next day), your daughter gently suckling at your breast hungrily, you finally took in just what had just happened.

"Can you believe it? Can you believe that just happened Cill?"

"I told you bringing the hospital bag was a good idea, didn't I?" He smirked at you.

"Ashlyn Rose Murphy." You didn't know what made that name come to you but it did.

"Perfect. I love it. And I love you. Both of you.. so, so much.. thank you for bringing me our girl... Thank you.." he kissed your head and took your daughter once she'd finished feeding, holding her close to his chest. "Now you sleep mama. Ashlyn and I are going to finish watching Batman Begins."

You chuckled and lay down in the bed, sleep coming very quickly following that evening's activities.

@queenshelby

[elvish-sky]

How Gandalf and Pippin Put Aside Their Differences for the Greater Good {Faramir x Reader}

A.N: OK GUYS- i literally tied my hand to my sister’s to figure out some of the logistics of movement for this. She thinks I’m crazy now. But I loved this request! I’m currently catching up on requests and also dealing with some personal issues, and I haven’t been happy with anything I’ve written in a really long time, but I’m really happy with this! It would mean so much to me if you guys liked it too, I put so much work into this and I’m so proud of it!

also- a thousand thank you’s to @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth for giving me an idea for this fic. i appreciate you letting me use it so so much. thank you.

Requested by @raineeace on Tumblr: Your recent request you wrote was beyond cute! You’re an amazing writer, so catch me reading the rest of your LOTR content !! I also wanted to request something as well! Can you do a Faramir x Fem!Reader and Gandalf and/or Pippin try to get them together? I loved the how you wrote Aragorn as cupid, and I wanted to ask if you could make these two matchmakers as well? Lots of fluff please and I can’t wait to see what you come up with! :)

Word Count: 2,334

Pairing: Faramir x Reader

Summary: You and Faramir have been mooning over each other for months, but nothing has come of Pippin’s efforts to get you together. What happens when Pippin enlists the help of a certain wizard?

Warnings: Fluff, Humor

****

How Gandalf and Pippin Put Aside Their Differences for the Greater Good {Faramir x Reader}

Pippin leaned over the banister, watching you and Faramir walk together below. You smiled at something the man said, then nodding your head goodbye and walking away. The hobbit watched as Faramir stood there, watching you go, looking oddly lonely.

Pippin had been watching/trying to get you and Faramir together for a while now. He had first noticed the chemistry and romantic tension between you when everyone was gathered waiting for Frodo to heal, and decided to do something about it. Now, months later, nothing had happened. Pippin thought that at this point neither of you was ever going to confess your very obvious feelings for the other.

At least, not without some extra help.

“Come on, Gandalf, please?”

The wizard shook his head, “I cannot believe you are still going on about this.”

“They need the help,” Pippin told him, “Plus, getting them to admit their feelings to each other would help them, and ease your exasperation with the two of them for walking in circles around each other!”

The wizard shook his head. “I’m not going to help you with this!”

“It’s for the greater good! Can you really stand to see the two of them mooning over each other all the time?”

“That’s true. It’s getting ridiculous,” Gandalf sighed, “Fine. I’ll help. Where do we start?”

Back in your room, you lifted your head from your desk as a loud, hobbitish whoop rand through the air. You chalked it up to Pippin hitting another elf, probably Legolas, with an apple, and returned to your work. You hoped that it wasn’t Legolas that Pippin had hit, because the last time that happened Legolas had promptly eaten the apple, and Pippin had bemoaned the loss of his snack for weeks.

That night, you left your room, closing the door behind you and setting off down the hallway. You’d barely made it fifteen feet when another door opened right in front of you and Faramir came rushing out, crashing into you.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there, I feel terrible!”

“It’s okay!”

You shuffled your feet, nervous to be so close to the person you’d been in love with for months.

It was also weird how close your rooms were- Aragorn had given everyone from the Fellowship and friends special quarters after his coronation. You could understand why the hobbits’ rooms were so close together, but wondered why Aragorn had placed you and Faramir almost directly across from each other. Probably because the two of you worked together the closest on negotiations with the other kingdoms.

Eventually, Faramir broke the silence with an awkward laugh.

“So, late to dinner?”

You smiled, glad he’d spoken first.

“Yeah. I got so focused on drafting that new trade agreement with the Iron Hills that I didn’t realize how low the sun was.”

He nodded. “I completely understand, I’ve done that far too many times, working on something like that or staying outside the city for far too long.”

Laughing, you looped your arm through his. “We should get to dinner before Aragorn yells at us.”

You entered the hall together, pushing open the doors to see your friends all seated around the high table. Dinners with the group had started when everyone was waiting for Frodo to heal and wake up and had just continued on, everyone reluctant to give up the time spent together.

Letting go of Faramir’s arm, you took your usual seat between him and his brother.

“What prompted you two to arrive together?” Boromir winked at you as he whispered.

“Huh? Oh, we just bumped into each other in the hall.”

“Sure, sure,” he smirked as he spoke.

“Pass the potatoes, please, Boromir.” You were determined to change the subject, and, happily, it seemed to have worked.

What you didn’t notice was Gandalf staring intently at you and Faramir, muttering something under his breath as Pippin watched gleefully.

You yawned, pushing your empty plate away with a groan.

“I’m stuffed. And tired. I think I’ll head to my rooms.”

Everyone said goodbye, and you pushed back your chair and went to stand.

But you couldn’t.

There were handcuffs on, one on your wrist, and the other on Faramir’s. And they hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Who handcuffed us?” You were bewildered.

“Gandalf…” Faramir glared at the wizard.

Gandalf glanced behind himself, and, seeing no one, turned back around with an innocent expression.

“What could I have done to make this happen?” He gestured to your hands, still handcuffed together.

Faramir said, “I don’t know, but it had to have been you!”

“Ask yourself this, Faramir. What motivation could I have possibly had? I think one you probably just ran astray of something else?”

You sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay, then, how do we make it stop?”

“Only time will tell,” the wizard nodded sagely.

“What are we supposed to do until then?” You exclaimed.

“Just stay together? Do everything together?” Pippin looked all too pleased by this.

“Fine. C’mon Faramir.”

The man rose, and together you marched out of the hall, handcuffs clanking, never moving further than five inches apart.

Once in the hallway, you turned to Faramir, panicked.

“What do we do? We’re stuck five inches, or less, apart from each other for Eru knows how long, we both have important duties.”

“And there’s going to the bathroom, and sleeping, and eating..” he was just as freaked out as you.

You turned to each other.

“What are we going to do?!”

“Y/N, Faramir, chill.”

You tried to turn, but the clanking and tug on your wrist stopped you as you spun the wrong way, twisting yourself with Faramir.

“Ok, no wait,” he backed up, accidentally taking you with him.

“Here, go this way, move your hand left.”

“No, no, my left, my left.”

“Spin this way?”

“You go under, I go over?”

“Aha! Yes, that worked!” You high-fived each other clunkily, and turned, making sure to bring your arms over your heads so that your hands fell back again.

“Oh, Pippin! What were you saying?”

Pippin smiled at Faramir. “I can help.”

“Would you mind telling us how?”

“You just have to accept it!”

“WHAT?” You screamed in unison.

Back in the hall, Aragorn winced at the echo of the yell.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” He questioned the wizard.

“Of course not,” Gandalf replied, “but it was not mine. It was all Pippin, and if anything goes wrong that’s who we’ll blame.”

Legolas chuckled. “Alright then. We’ll leave it all on Pippin.”

Boromir raised a mug of ale. “TO-”

He was cut off by a resounding shush, and, chastened, began again.

“To Y/N and Faramir”

Everyone echoed the sentiment, quietly, and clinked their mugs.

Back in the hallway, you and Faramir were glaring at Pippin.

“You want us to just live like this?”

“Yes! You’ll be fine, maybe it’ll wear off soon, and maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Ughhhhhh,” you stormed away, dragging Faramir behind you.

Approaching your door, you were suddenly stopped when Faramir halted behind you.

“What?”

He shuffled his feet. “Whose room are we staying in?”

You considered. “Which one is bigger? We’ll need all the maneuvering space we can get.”

You walked together over to your doorway, poking your heads inside before moving back to his.

“Yours.”

“Mine?” He asked.

“Yeah. You have more space and a bigger bed. Let’s just go back to my room so that I can grab a few things if I’ll be staying with you indefinitely.”

“How are we going to do this?”

You stared at Faramir’s bed.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

You hadn’t thought this situation could get any more awkward, but there it was. The crown jewel of awkwardness, coming out to torment you. It had been bad enough attempting to change into your nightclothes, which you’d managed by turning your backs to each other to put them on, and only wearing one sleeve. But this was worse.

You decided to just go for it, and climbed into the bed, sliding under the sheets. Your movement pulled the handcuffs so that Faramir went with you, and you ended up on one side of the bed, him on the other, hands cuffed together in the center.

“This is not very comfortable,” Faramir observed.

That was true. You were lying flat on your back when you always slept on your side, and you were literally handcuffed to another person. Unable to stand the absurdity of it all, you broke out into laughter.

Faramir joined in, and you laughed together until you had tears in your eyes. His smile was so bright in the dimly lit room, and you could listen to his laugh for a thousand years without getting sick of it.

When the laughter subsided, you decided nothing could be more uncomfortable than the position your body was currently stuck in.

“Do you usually sleep on your side?”

Faramir nodded, looking a little confused.

“Ok. I’m going to try something, it’s going to be really awkward, but we might actually be able to sleep.”

“I trust you, Y/N. Whatever you’re going to do will be fine.”

You smiled at him, internally still freaking out that you were sharing a bed with Faramir. But there was no time to panic, your shoulder was killing you.

Taking a deep breath, you flipped so that the handcuffed arm was now underneath you, chain stretching up to where Faramir’s arm hovered.

“Would you be alright with putting your arm over my waist?” You wanted to make sure he was comfortable with all this.

Craning your neck, you saw a faint blush creeping up his face in the dusky light.

“Only if it’s ok with you,” he seemed nervous.

You were too, but you nodded and felt him slowly settle his arm around your waist.

Once it was there, his hand gently hanging near your stomach, you both relaxed, letting out sighs as the tension left your bodies simultaneously.

And then you giggled. Again, because this was just too ridiculous.

He laughed too. “You alright?”

You nodded, the movement of your head bumping into his chest as he sucked in a breath.

“I’m good.”

It took a while for each of you to fall asleep, brains spinning with thoughts of the person next to you. But eventually, you did.

It was the best you had slept in years.

The next day, the two of you began to figure out how to go around with your hands stuck together. You ate by spooning the food into each other’s mouths one at a time, which you were pretty sure Boromir was sketching to memorialize forever.

You blinked your eyes open the next day to sunlight streaming through the windows, and soft breathing behind you. Carefully, you turned around so that your hands now rested between your bodies.

Faramir’s face was glowing with the light of the morning sun, hair spread on the pillow. You’d never seen him so peaceful, and he looked gorgeous like some Vala come across the world to Gondor.

Unable to resist the impulse, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

You quickly moved back, only to notice that the weight on your hand was gone.

You looked down.

The handcuffs were gone.

“Faramir! Faramir!” You shook him awake.

“What, Y/N?” He asked groggily.

His morning voice was perfection itself, and you had to bring yourself back to reality.

“The handcuffs are gone. Look!”

He shot up at this, looking down at his now-free hand.

“Wow! We should probably go let Gandalf know.”

You nodded. “Meet you in the hall in ten minutes?”

He gave you a thumbs up, and the last thing you saw as you closed the door was Faramir marveling at his now-free wrist.

Later, in the room that Gandalf had claimed as his office right next to the large hall where you usually ate, you sat together.

The wizard inquired, “What exactly happened?”

“The handcuffs were gone when I woke up,” Faramir told him.

“That shouldn’t have just happened. They were supposed to disappear when a physical manifestation of your affection for each other happened.”

“You did this?” You were outraged.

“Yes, Y/N, I did.”

Sensing that you were about to interrupt in outrage again, he added on.

“It should have been a physical manifestation of affection that was not circumstantial because of the handcuffs.”

You sighed, knowing what it was.

Faramir turned to you. “Do you know what it could have been?”

You stared straight at the floor.

“I… kissed your cheek when I woke up this morning.”

He blinked at you, shocked. Gandalf discreetly slipped out the door.

“You just looked so handsome in the sunlight with your hair glowing and I couldn’t resist and I’m so sorry and I’ll leave Gondor right now and never come back and what you must think of me no-”

“Y/N.”

You stopped rambling, looking at Faramir. He leaned closer to you, and in the depths of his eyes, you saw nothing but love. He paused for a moment, head tilted as if asking for your permission.

You nodded your head.

Faramir moved closer, tilting your chin up so that his lips met yours, kissing you oh-so-gently. Then somehow you were standing, lips still touching his as he surged closer and kissed you harder, like all the passion and feeling in the world was just pouring out of him and into you.

Finally, you broke apart, smiles on both your faces.

“I think I love you.,” you said, then clapped a hand over your mouth.

Faramir smirked. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you too.”

You gazed at each other for a few moments, before you grabbed his hand.

“Now, let’s go kill a wizard.”

Opening the doors to the hallway, you saw said wizard suddenly disappear.

You corrected yourself.

“Let’s go kill that wizard once he returns from wherever he’s hidden himself.”

Faramir laughed. “Let’s kill Gandalf later. For now, would you like to go for a walk?”

You smiled at him, looping your arm through his and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Lead on, my love.”

Everything tag❤️: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

Fic tag: @eru-vande @annkdarar @lust4crust @the-reformed-ringwraith @ethereal-earendil