#we have reached the part of spring break where I start to unravel sorry

[itspileofgoodthings]

sometimes it feels like I create all this warmth and love and energy that then I can’t access because I have Good Boundaries and also Intense Fear and Anxiety and tbh it is the most devastating feeling in the entire world sometimes

[chvoswxtch]

i'm not above begging. (1/?)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson desperately needs to graduate this year, and you're the only tutor that hasn't turned him down.

warnings: mentions of drugs, cursing

word count: 2k

a/n: this was initially going to be one post but then I got carried away and suddenly was at 2,081 words (oops) so i'm thinking this is going to be at least 3 parts? i've been day dreaming about eddie munson since may & re-watching one tree hill and this idea popped in my head and i had to write it down. this is my first time writing in awhile, so i'm a little rusty. all feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

The tutoring center at Hawkins High was relatively quiet for a Thursday afternoon. After the winter finals wrapped up, things had slowed down quite a bit apart from the regulars that came in for their weekly sessions. But with spring break and final projects coming up in a few weeks, it was only a matter of time before students began flocking in desperately seeking help to reach a passing grade. That’s where I came in.

I had been working in the tutoring center since my sophomore year. Everyone always told me I was good at it because I was a very patient person, but I honestly really enjoyed it. Every time I could see a student starting to really get it, I could see that little light bulb go off in their brain, it made my chest swell with pride. 

I was organizing a few review tests when I felt something touch my shoulder. All the neatly stacked papers in my hands went flying, and a shrill scream ripped through my chest at the surprise intrusion. I clutched onto the open file cabinet that was beside me and whipped my head around, my wide eyes settling on the tall figure that stood in front of me.

Eddie Munson.

His large, ring-clad hands were immediately held up in surrender, a look of shock etched onto his own features. I was pretty sure his startled expression matched my own. 

“Whoa..easy there. I didn’t mean to scare ya. I uh..come in peace.”

There was a timid smile stretched at the corner of his mouth, his dark brows lightly furrowed as he studied my face. A solid minute passed before I realized I hadn’t moved. I was still in shock, and well, possibly having a heart attack. It wasn’t that I was scared of Eddie Munson, not like a lot of the student body at Hawkins High, I was just shocked to see him in the tutoring center. In the two and a half years that I’d worked here, I had never seen him. Not even once. 

I’d heard the rumors about his supposed “devil worshiping” club, and about how he was a “dangerous” known drug dealer. I never really bought into it though. Eddie and I had never really interacted before. We were in completely different classes, and social circles. He didn’t really hangout with anyone that wasn’t in his Hellfire club. But I had seen him a few times in passing, and saw the way he was when he interacted with his friends during lunch. Nothing about him screamed dangerous to me. I always thought he was just..different, and definitely had a flair for dramatics.

“Oh, no no, I’m sorry. You didn’t. I mean you did. But..only because I didn’t hear you come in.”

Once I could no longer hear my heart pounding in my ears, I tried my best to appear as casual as possible. Clearing my throat, I crossed my arms over my chest and peered up at him.

“Um what..can I help you with?”

Eddie shoved his large hands into his front pockets, cursing under his breath. He flashed me an apologetic smile and began to fish around in his back pocket before he retrieved a crumpled paper ball, raising it up into his fist victoriously with a grin. 

“Aha! Found it.” 

He unraveled the paper and did his best to smooth it out, flipping it upside down and clearing his throat dramatically.

“I am looking for…Y/L/N, Y/N.”

His head swiveled to survey the empty tutoring center before his large brown eyes met mine again with a kind smile. 

“Any chance you know where I can find them? It’s uh..kind of important.”

“Oh um well..that’s me. Hi.”

Before I could stop myself, my hand raised up to do an awkward wave. My cheeks instantly heat up with embarrassment. Hi? Seriously? That’s what you went with?

Eddie’s eyes wandered over my figure quickly, his eyes meeting mine once again with a quirk of his brow.

“Oh..well, that was easy.”

I stood there silently for a moment, lightly clenching my fists at my sides. This was the closest I had ever been to Eddie Munson before. I had never gotten to look at him properly, not up close like this. Why did I never notice how attractive he was? I didn’t feel scared in his presence. I just felt..nervous. But I wasn’t exactly sure why that was.

“Um so..why are you here? I meant..um, why are you looking for me?”

My voice came out higher than usual, and I instantly wanted to bang my head against the nearest heavy object. Eddie eyed me silently for a moment, sighing as he shoved the paper back into his pocket and pursed his lips. He twisted one of the large rings he wore around his index finger, his eyes darting around the tutor center before finally landing back on me.

“Okay, here’s the thing. You’re my last resort.”

“Oh.” 

“No no no, fuck. I didn’t-I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that..you’re my last option or anything, you’re just my last choice. Hope! I meant hope. Fuck. This is all coming out wrong.”

Eddie closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff of exasperation. He quickly spun around on his heel and made a beeline for the door to the tutoring center and exited swiftly. I stood dumbfounded in place, staring at the spot he once occupied, trying to decipher what the hell had just happened. Suddenly the door to the tutoring center swung open and Eddie walked through with a playful grin on his lips, stopping directly in front of me.

“Let’s start over, shall we? You’re Y/N Y/L/N, tutor extraordinaire. I’m Eddie Munson, and I desperately need your services.” 

Placing one of his large hands on his stomach, he did a quick bow, and I couldn’t help but let a quiet giggle escape my lips. This seemed to catch his attention, as he looked up at me with a full blown grin, seemingly proud of himself for getting a laugh out of me.

“Wow, Eddie. I didn’t expect you to be so..formal?”

Eddie stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head to the side as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. An action that my brain has permanently burned into my memory.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you sweetheart. I need to graduate. I can’t stay in this shithole for another year. And as long as I can pull a D with Mrs. O’Donnell, I’m on track to finally get the fuck out of here. But, here’s the problem. I fucking hate her class. It’s so boring! I mean..I would literally rather watch paint dry. So technically, it’s not my fault I keep failing because if the class were, ya’know, a little more exciting, I might actually be able to pay attention. See, I'm a victim here, okay? A victim of this oppressive and soul crushing system that is Hawkins High. Now look, I have tried everyone. And I mean everyone, okay? Mrs. O’Donnell has assigned me every tutor known to humankind and they either flat out say no or just give up so I’m really banking on you here. And look, I’ll even pay you! I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear. Scouts Honor. Just please..please help me. I’m not above begging here. I will literally get on my knees right now and-”

“Eddie!”

My hands darted out to grab onto his biceps as he began to lower his body. The worn leather of his jacket felt soft under my fingertips. My eyes lingered over the various pins and additions he had added to it. The denim overtop was worn and faded, there were light tears and a few loose ends. I was quite impressed by it though, knowing that he had taken the time to put it together himself. I could tell how much work he had put into it, how much it meant to him.

“I’ll do it.”

“What? Really? Holy shit, you..you are a literal angel!”

I felt myself suddenly being lifted off the ground as a strong pair of arms wrapped around my waist. It took a second to register that Eddie Munson was hugging me. Not one of those awkward, half-hearted hugs you feel like you have to give. But a real hug. The kind of hug you give an old friend you haven’t seen in years. My hands gripped onto the shoulders of his jacket and I giggled at his excitement.

“Eddie, put me down! Please, I’m afraid of heights.”

He swiftly set me on my feet with a chuckle, taking a step back and beginning to wave his hands around dramatically.

“Sorry, sorry. I got carried away. Look uh, name your price. Whatever you want, I’ll pay it.”

“Eddie, you’re not paying me. It’s my job, I’m happy to help. I do have a few ground rules though.”

“Alright, sure. Lay ‘em on me.”

“First things first, you have to take this seriously. If we’re going to do this, I need you totally focused. No distractions during our sessions. I know you have your club, and I’ll be respectful of your time dedicated to that, but if you start falling behind and we need extra sessions, I need you to put your school work first. Second, please always be transparent with me. If you need a break, tell me. I don’t want to push you past your limit. If you’re going to be late, or there’s an emergency and you can’t make it, please let me know as soon as you can. And lastly, please don’t ask me to do your work. I’m here to help you, not do everything for you. Don’t even try to bribe me. The answer will be no. Deal?”

You’d be surprised how much I had to emphasize that last part. Over the years, so many people have tried to get me to just do the work for them. They didn’t see me as a resource. They saw me as a transaction. Surely the girl with straight A’s wouldn’t mind doing the work they can't be bothered with. The popular crowd was the worst about it. They thought their parent’s money and social status could buy them anything. Sometimes it made me angry whenever their words would replay in my head. But that anger usually subsided into hurt. Most of them couldn’t even be bothered to remember my name. I was just “tutor girl” to them.

But you’re so smart, it’ll be easy for you! I’ll make it worth your while. If you do my homework, I’ll invite you to the party this weekend. You can sit with us at lunch if you write this paper for me. I’ll put in a good word for you with one of the guys on the team. C’mon tutor girl, everyone has a price.

I wasn’t necessarily “popular”, but I definitely knew a lot of the popular kids. I was practically the reason some of them were able to still do extracurriculars. I spent most of the time in the tutoring center, and when I wasn’t doing that I was helping out with ‘The Weekly Streak’ school newspaper with Nancy Wheeler. Nancy and I had met towards the end of my sophomore year. I had interviewed for a spot on the paper after my guidance counselor had told me tutoring wouldn’t count as a “club activity” on my college applications. After my prolonged sulking, I decided the school paper was the lesser of all high school club evils. Nancy and I had instantly clicked, and had only gotten closer over the years. She and Robin were the only real friends that I had.

I held my hand out and looked up at Eddie with a shy smile on my lips, awaiting his answer. He cocked his head to the side slightly, eyeing me as if he was contemplating my conditions. Always a dramatic. Suddenly, a huge grin took over his mouth and his large hand captured mine. The warmth from his skin spread like wildfire all over my body and eventually settled in the pit of my stomach. My grip tightened slightly on his hand in reaction to the sensation. What the hell was that?

“Deal.”

[caws5749]

Dazed and Confused, pt. 6- The Quarantine Series

A/N: i tried to make it longer for you guys today, but it still feels so short omg. Perhaps there will be some true true flirting in the next one.. we talking tropes.

Promoting: Joint Blurb Night FOUR DAYS AWAY! Get in your requests over @thechaoticgays for any marvel character! The theme is spring/spring break/etc.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

“How’s the hangover now that you’ve eaten?” Natasha asked as the two of you walked back to the tower. Brunch had gone really well, and the two of you were having a great time together. Neither of you wanted it to stop.

“Much better,” you sighed happily. “My head still hurts a bit, but that’s all.”

You weren’t paying much attention to where you were walking. You were too focused on trying to think of a way to prolong your hangout with Nat. So much so that you started along the crosswalk, only for Natasha’s arm to suddenly stop you in your tracks. She pulled you back away from the street.

“Y/N, you need to watch where you’re walking!” She scolded.

“Sorry,” you muttered, a little touched that she cared this much.

“Just be careful,” she chuckled. “We can’t have an Avenger getting hurt like this.”

“What!? Are you telling me that getting hit by a car isn’t an Avenger way to get hurt?” You mockingly gasped. Nat rolled her eyes and then had to gently push you forward when you once again weren’t paying attention.

“Go, we can walk now. Pay attention!” She chided.

++++++

“Are you going to train today?” Natasha asked as the two of you entered the tower. You thought about it for a moment.

“I probably should,” you groaned.

“You should take something for your headache.”

“You know I’m not into that,” you replied. She shook her head lightly.

“You mean you’re a baby who doesn’t like swallowing pills.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” you said proudly. “But, yeah, I’ll workout probably soon. Are you going to be training?”

“Yeah, maybe we can spar or something,” Nat suggested.

“Oh, you know what we haven’t done in a while? Swim laps and race and stuff. That’s always fun,” you commented.

“Are you trying to get me in a swimsuit?” She teased. You were pretty sure your brain short-circuited at that.

“I- of course not,” you nervously laughed. She hummed and let a signature smirk grace her lips.

“I will go put one on anyway, because swimming actually sounds really nice.”

You parted ways once you’d reached the hallway that held your rooms. You entered yours and closed the door, sliding your back down the length of it until you were on the floor. Seeing the girl you liked in a swimsuit seemed like the worst possible thing. Well, in terms of keeping your cool.

But, you didn’t have all day to think about that because you needed to put on your swimsuit. You dug around, searching for a one-piece that showed off a decent amount of skin, riding high above your hip bones and with an open back. You threw on a cover-up and had two seconds to put your hair in a braid because Natasha was knocking on the door.

“Come in,” you called, finishing up the tail end of the braid. You sighed when your hair pretty much unraveled right away.

“Need help?” Nat asked.

“Sure,” you answered. Natasha came over to you and carefully removed the ponytail, then gently tugging her fingers through your braided hair. Her fingers worked quickly to fasten a braid that would stay. You tried not to think about how gentle and soft her touch was.

“Okay, you should be good,” she announced when finished. She let her fingers run gently down the length of your braid, before pulling away.

“Thanks, Nat.”

Her response was a gentle smile, which you were beginning to think she reserved specially for you.

“Come on, let’s go for a swim.”

++++++

No one else was swimming today, so you opted for just setting all of your things on the ground near the pool. Nat was turned away from you as she pulled her cover-up over her head. You couldn’t help but stare. She’d chosen an all-black swimsuit, also a one piece, that showed off a decent portion of her back. The sides had geometric cutouts, showing you even more of her pale, perfect skin. You tore your gaze away to take off your own cover-up.

“Nice swimsuit,” Natasha smirked, her eyes looking you up and down. You blushed deep red, nodding in thanks. She then jumped right into the pool, submerging a moment later completely soaked.

“Are you coming or am I going to have to drag you in here with me?” She asked, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s always so cold,” you half-whined.

“We’ll warm up with all the swimming.”

You took a deep breath and then jumped in right beside her, making sure you were in range to splash her. As soon as you’d resurfaced she sent a glare your way, and you knew what was coming. You took off with a shriek, swimming as fast as you could for the opposite end of the pool. About halfway, she managed to grab onto your legs, pulling you backwards, and then helping you up to the surface so that you could get some air. You both gasped for a moment.

“You’ve gotten faster,” you observed.

“I’ve been practicing,” she laughed.

“I thought you said you haven’t been swimming in a while!”

“No, I haven’t been swimming with you in a while,” she corrected, smirking. You rolled your eyes.

“How sad for you,” you then teased.

“True,” Nat responded, a bit more serious. “Now, come on, I need to beat you. Let’s race.”

++++++

Pt. 7

++++++

Tag List: @mymarvelwomen @hherewegoagain @morbid-gaymer @natasha-romanoff-fics @taramitch96 @marvelbanan @lesbian-x-blackwidow @firstangeldragonranch @stillfiguringmeout @natasharomanoffsbitch-x @5aftermidnight @disneykid125 @clintashaotp @arkkarchive @determinedpines @stop-drop-and-drumroll @little-spider-nerd @newestnewgirl @missmarvelobsession @fireflyglass @pussy-puncher-its-an-inside-joke @niquey-salvatore @1-danid @nowthisisliving27 @swanqueensupercorpshouldbegayirl @hopingforbarnes @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @natxhiddles

[sippingchai]

Hanging By A Moment

A/N: So, ladies and gentleman. I am back from the dead to participate in @thefanficfaerie​‘s 3500 follower celebration. This is new territory for me, so please forgive me if it’s not 100%.  This one shot is inspired by “Hanging By A Moment” by Lifehouse. There’s a bit of bookstore/coffee shop, modern day au rolled into one. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes AU x Reader, fluff & longing 

Summary: There’s a lot to unravel about Bucky Barnes, Steve’s new hire and long time friend. It was only a matter of time. 

Word Count: 2.3K

“Forgetting all I'm lacking Completely incomplete I'll take your invitation You take all of me”

Spring

The crate weighs heavy in your hands, filled to the brim with old books that have plenty of life left to give. Some of them were well-loved. Dog-earred pages and notes scribbled into the margins for the next owner to stumble upon. Others are almost like new, crisp and shiny waiting for someone to pick them up and give them the attention they deserve. The clock above the double doors strikes 9 and you take the opportunity to flip the switch on the wall with your elbow, illuminating the Open sign.  

Wanda hurries past you, rushing up the wooden staircase to the second level that overlooks the lobby. Spring comes fruitfully this year and the warm weather is more than welcome. Cover to Third Street Books is not by any means large, but being in the heart of downtown means a reasonable amount of people visit the dainty little shop. 

One of the shelves sits half stocked after Wanda’s efforts, books neatly sitting on the bottom shelf waiting for more reinforcements. Balancing the crate against your hip, you prop one of the doors open, slipping the stopper in place with your foot. What you don’t expect when you turn around is a solid mass to run into you, knocking you off balance and sending the crate and its contents tumbling down. 

“Watch it!”

“Shit!” 

You both exclaim. 

Jolted by the impact of your ass on the pavement, you’re stunned by the pair of hands that reach down to help you. Annoyance surges through your system and you shake off the help. 

“Easy there. Just trying to help. You came outta nowhere.” The stranger remarks defensively, backing off slightly as you regain your balance. Ignoring him, you crouch down for the books picking them off from the cement to place them on the shelves. 

“Look, I’m really sorry.” He apologizes, kneeling across from you to pick up the discarded books. 

You intend to tell him off, let him know you don’t need his help but when you finally get a good look at him the ability to speak disappears. The sincerity in his eyes speaks volumes when he gives you an apologetic smile. They strike you the most, blue and bright in contrast with the rugged beard that adorns his face. 

“It’s...it’s fine. It happens.” You manage to calm down until someone interjects.

“You getting into trouble already, Bucky?” Steve from the neighboring cafe yells from his door, grin splitting his face. 

“Looks like it, pal.” Bucky smiles fondly.

“Wait, you know each other?” You ask, perplexed by the conversation as Steve starts to make his way towards the two of you. 

“Steve and I go way back.” Bucky nods. 

“He’s also the new guy I told you about.” Steve mentions casually and suddenly it all clicks. 

The “new guy” was someone Steve was ecstatic over. A childhood friend that he hadn’t seen since he left for university with Bucky staying behind in their hometown. 

“He’s been through a lot.” You recall Steve saying, lost in his own thought when he stopped by during a lull in the afternoon one day. “You could say he’s starting over.”  

To say you were intrigued was an understatement, yet the story of his mystery friend wasn’t Steve’s to tell. 

“You’re already telling people about me?” Bucky groans while he places the last of the books on the shelf. Steve  He stands, smoothing the front of the shirt before offering a hand to you again. This time you take it. He helps hoist you up, and before you realize it, you’re face to face with him. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He checks again. The warmth of his hand disappears, a small part of you disappointed it’s gone so fast.

“Nothing a little ice can’t help with.” You admit, assessing how sore your hip really is. 

“Jesus, Bucky. You break her?” Steve ribs on him, dragging Bucky towards the cafe while he yells over his shoulder. “I’ll bring back some ice.” They both disappear through the door, Bucky taking one one last look over his shoulder catching your gaze. 

“What the hell was that all about?” Wanda laughs as she stands from the door. Her full crate sits, unbothered, on top of the shelf. 

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” She smirks.

The rest of that week goes by without a hitch. Between new inventory coming in and a steady stream of online book orders, you and Wanda manage to keep busy. 

“Do we want to keep Best Sellers where they are or swap them with New Arrivals?” Wanda stands between the two displays. She absently winds a strand of hair between her fingers while she weighs the pro’s and con’s of each. 

You stand beside her, lips pursed while you do your own assessment. 

“Just keep them where they are. No sense in moving them if we don’t need to.” 

“...but I feel like we should switch it up after all the Spring cleaning we did.” Wanda bounces on the balls of her feet. She’s itching to make it happen. 

“Look, I won’t stop you if -” Before you finish your statement, the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts you. 

Bucky stands at the entrance, two hot drinks in hand. He looks tense while he stands there, taking in the shop in all its glory before his eyes finally meet yours. 

“Afternoon ladies.” He speaks softly. His long chestnut hair is pulled up into a bun and the white apron he’s wearing is a stark contrast to the black shirt and jeans that adorns him. It’s quite a look, you think. A good look. 

“So you’re the one that likes to run into women.” Wanda starts. Unbeknownst to Bucky, Wanda’s poker face is immaculate. It takes everything in you to contain your laughter. 

“That was an accident.” He’s caught off guard. 

“I’m joking.” She smiles in an instant. “Come in, we won’t bite.” She gestures towards him. 

He makes his approach, cautiously eyeing Wanda as he walks across the hardwood. 

“Steve told me you’re regulars.” He starts. “And that I should remember your orders.” 

“Oh did he?” You laugh. His eyes meet yours and you can feel the warmth blossom in your chest again. He nods.

“Told me I should get used to it.” He lifts one of the cups, reading off white chocolate mocha and Wanda reaches for it. She thanks him in the process before taking a sip, indulging in the chocolatey goodness. 

“Well, Steve’s right.” Wanda remarks while glancing pointedly between the two of you. “Anyways, I have work to do. Thanks for bringing this over.” She ascends the staircase and into the cozy office, closing the door behind her. 

“So, I guess this is yours.” He laments softly as he hands you your drink.

“You guessed right.” You smile. The aroma of lavender and bergamot hits your nostrils. “I don’t know if he mentioned it, but you can just put this on our tab.” 

“These are on the house.” Bucky admits. “A peace offering for the other day.” He shifts in his spot, reaching to rub the back of his neck. His nervousness is endearing. 

“That’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” He nods, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his apron. 

“I guess we’ll be seeing you around then?” There’s a hopefulness in your voice that you’re not sure if he picks up on or not. He does.

“Yeah. Yeah, you will.”  

Summer

That’s how the rest of Spring goes leading up into the Summer. Bucky dropping by twice a week to personally deliver both your and Wanda’s drinks, now iced instead of hot. Sometimes, it’s busy enough that he just leaves them behind the counter. Other times, it’s slow enough and he’s able to chat for a couple minutes before heading back. That awkward tension in the air begins to melt away and you look forward to seeing him. He doesn’t talk at all about what brought him to your neck of the woods, and you don’t bother to ask. 

You do know that Bucky lives with Steve for the time being until he’s able to save enough for his own place. He lived with his sister in the midwest temporarily prior to his move here. Before that, he’d lived in Brooklyn his entire life. Rebecca’s the only family he has left and he calls to check on her often. He’s a fan of blueberry pancakes and other little tidbits that you can’t help but grow fond of. 

The Summer Reads display you’re working on remains unfinished, unable to concentrate when the heat is getting to you. Every window and door is open, but the fact is that that 100+ year old brick building doesn’t have AC and you start to suffer come the end of May. From that point, it only gets worse. 

Wanda is persistent. Always has been and always will be. It’s what you love about your best friend and business partner, yet hate just as much. 

“If I have to see you two fawn over each other again I’m going to throw up.” She complains, disgust in her voice.

“Wanda, please.” You protest, trying to keep your mind of Bucky. It’s not that you don’t have any feelings for him, on the contrary. You don’t know if he’s ready for that yet.

“I just don’t get why you don’t go for it, babe. It’s just...obvious there’s something there.” She reiterates, adding books on the shelves in front of you. You stand there for a moment, mulling over her words. She’s not wrong and you know it. 

Friday evening rolls around and as you start to close up for the evening, the bell from the front door chiming loud. 

“We’re just about to clo - Bucky?” You look up from the register to see him making his way towards the counter. “What are you doing here?”

His gaze is intense, bright eyes taking your features in and he takes a deep breath. 

“What are you doing after this?” He asks and there’s something in his voice you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Uh, Wanda and I were just gonna head to dinner.” 

“No, we’re not.” She yells from upstairs, darting from the office to lean over the railing. “You can take her instead.” 

Both of you respond.

“Wanda!”

“I want to.” 

You return your attention to him. A swarm of emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach. 

“I’ve wanted to ask you out for the longest time, doll.” Bucky chuckles. He braces his elbows on the edge of the counter and takes the opportunity to lean in closer to you. His beard gone and his clean shaven face in perfect view. “Whattya say?” 

You can’t help but laugh, really. 

“Where are we going?”

You find yourselves tucked away in a corner booth at the Lorenzo’s Diner across the street. It’s nearly empty and the smell of grease and soda permeates in the air but that doesn’t matter to either one of you.

“In short, I did a lot of things I regret.” He reflects as the two of you finish your meals. It’s a lot to soak in, you’ll admit. Knowing that he used to be a member of a gang back in Brooklyn, ex-member that is.

“Wow.” Is the only response you can muster up. Bucky sighs and leans back against the booth. 

“I get it.” He utters. “If this isn’t something you’re into.” He points back and forth between the two of you. 

“Bucky, no. It’s not that.” You reassure him, pausing for a moment. “You just...you just told me you used to be in a gang. That’s a lot of information to process.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sighs, frown set deep on his face.

“Hey, now.” You soothe, reaching across the table to take his hand into both of yours. “Look,  you’re not that person anymore, right?” 

“No.” Bucky whispers. “I’m not. That’s not who I am now.” 

“I believe you. And that’s what matters, Buck. Here. Now.” Your voice trembles and your resolve disappears. “This moment between us is what matters. The ones moving forward.” You squeeze his hand. 

He takes a long, deep breath and that warm smile you’re now familiar with spreads across his face. It’s contagious and you can feel your own starting to unfurl. He leans forward, gently pulling you toward him and his lips meet yours. His free hand cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek and you find yourself lost in his embrace. It’s soft and sweet and ends a little too quickly for your liking when he rests his forehead against yours. His breath tickles your forehead when he whispers thank you, and he pulls you in again. 

The Following Spring 

Bucky paces around the living room, a few boxes scattered about waiting to be unearthed. It had been less than a week since the two of you moved in together, opting for a place close to the heart of downtown and to work. He shuffles a few of the boxes to the other side of the living room, assessing their place before moving them back to where they originally were. The books you’ve gotten around to unpacking rest on the coffee table but you abandon them to tend to Bucky’s apparent distress.  

“You’re going to wear a hole into the carpet.” You chuckle, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “She knows we literally just moved in. It’s not gonna look perfect.” 

“I haven’t seen my sister in over a year.” He twists in your grasp and you’re greeted with a kiss to the forehead. The shadow of a beard tickles your skin. 

“I know. It’s gonna be okay.” 

He studies you for a moment, full of warmth and adoration unlike anything you’ve seen before. 

“What is it, Buck?” You question. 

“It’s been...a very long time since I’ve felt a sense of normal.” His gaze never leaves yours, cradling your face in his hands. “Thank you for everything, Doll. For taking all of me.”

“Always.” 

[sanderssides-springfling]

Breaking Point (Spring Fling Work)

Synopsis: Sometimes being a light side just does’t cut it. After a particularly aggravating argument, Logan begins… changing. (Logan centric angst fic with guest appearances of most of the others,,,, but mostly Janus).  -Warnings: This is angst so expect negativity/coldness/miscommunications throughout, mild language throughout, some mentions of injury/illness used as metaphors 

For: @madamgarbage

Notes: I had a lot of fun writing this and I just really hope you enjoy it!!! 🖤✨

Logan was not a stranger to emotion. Despite popular belief, he experienced them like any other side. The difference was his ability to tamp them down, keep them from clouding his logic; it was an ability he prided himself on. Sure, sometimes his anger got the better of him when the others were being far too ridiculous. But for the most part, he was clean, calculated, cool. 

Right now, though, his head was pounding. Virgil was shouting hoarsely and Roman was yelling back even louder. Patton just whimpered, trying to get the two to stop fighting but failing miserably as he flinched back from both of their raised voices. Thomas stood in the middle of it all with glazed eyes. 

And Logan, what was he doing? Standing to the side. Being completely useless, it seemed. He pressed his fingers against his temples and tried to massage away the pain. His efforts once again failed and he turned his attention back to the situation. 

Thomas had to choose whether or not to go to a Broadway audition and wanted to consult with his sides to get their opinions on the opportunity. Unfortunately his plan had backfired and now the choice was even less clear. It was a debate, they were trying to make a decision— Logan should have been leading the entire thing. Instead, he had been shoved to the side as Virgil and Roman turned the discussion into a fight.

“It’s too big of a risk! If Thomas fails at this, he may never audition again. Think about how that would hurt Patton. Think about how it could ruin his whole career,” Virgil hissed. 

Roman answered too clearly, over-pronouncing his words as he spat them out like they tasted as bitter as his tone, “You’re suffocating me. You’re keeping Thomas from achieving his dreams. Your worries are simply too much. If anything is going to ruin his career, it’s going to be you.” 

Virgil raised his eyebrows and gave a cold laugh, “Oh, I’m sorry? I thought we agreed it was my job to protect Thomas? So why don’t you just back the hell up and remember your place.” 

“My place? And where exactly would that be?” 

“Safety comes before your stupid fantasies.”

“This isn’t even about safety! This is about you being a coward!” 

The room went quiet. Quiet, not calm. It was like the moments of silent after a lightning strike when everyone holds their breath, waiting for the roar of thunder. Logan needed to interject before things got even worse and this was his best opportunity to do so. 

He cleared his throat, “If you two would like to pause this illogical arguing for a moment, I would like to make a few points.” 

All eyes turned on him. He was nearly taken aback by the amount of anger in both Virgil and Roman’s gazes, suddenly turned on him instead of each other. It burned against his skin as they both glared at him. Patton tried to give him a smile but it was far weaker than usual. Thomas’ eyes were the worst— dazed from all the yelling, confused and torn apart from his aspects disagreeing so violently. Logan felt like he had failed; failed them all, but especially Thomas. It was his job to keep order, to weigh the pros and cons, to unravel problems, to make things clear. And when the others needed him the most, he had let it all fall into the hands’ of chaos. 

“I just think there are better ways to make this decision. You two have been yelling each other for over half an hour and it’s gotten nowhere.” 

“Yeah, because he refuses to admit that he’s wrong!” Roman interrupted. 

Logan gritted his teeth, “Please try to restrain yourself from talking over me.” 

Virgil was the one to break in this time, “Logan, maybe this isn’t the type of argument that you belong in.”

“Not the- not the type of argument I belong in?” Logan could almost laugh, “This is the exact sort of discussion I need to be included in because otherwise we end up in a mess like this!” 

“Logan,” Virgil growled, “I don’t think you’re understanding what’s going on here. This is an issue me and Roman need to settle. No matter what that means.” 

“No matter what that means?? Are you even listening to yourself? That’s the sort of talking that causes disaster!” 

“No, Virgil’s right about one thing,” Logan turned his attention to Roman as he was interrupted once again, “This is between the two of us. Don’t get yourself involved.” 

“If I don’t get involved, you’re going to tear Thomas apart trying to get your ways!” Logan could feel his temper slipping away from him just as his control of the situation was slipping through his fingers. These idiots had their heads so far up their asses, they couldn’t even see the damage they were doing to everyone else. 

“Logan!” Roman snapped his name to get his attention, “Maybe you should just go.” 

He scoffed, “Go? You really think you can solve this problem by yourselves?”

“Go.” 

Logan glanced at the stairwell where Virgil had snarled a singular syllable at him, “Excuse me?”

“He said to go,” Roman was glaring at him, “And, in this case, I agree with him.” 

Logan’s mouth fell open. It was ridiculous. They needed him, but apparently they just couldn’t see it. They needed him, but they didn’t want him. He shook his head. A laugh was rising up his throat but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny. 

He looked around the room, “You really want me to go? Fine then.” 

Thomas and Patton both seemed distressed but said nothing to stop him. Roman and Virgil didn’t have to say anything; the anger boiling behind both of their stares communicated plenty. 

And that was all he needed. Logan sunk out of the room without another word. 

He reached the mindspace in a matter of seconds, appearing in the dining room. The laugh that had been trapped in his throat bubbled over and crashed to the floor as it morphed into a cry. He clapped a hand over his mouth as giggles mixed with sobs and spilled past his fingers, filling the quiet room with hiccuping whimpers. It was just too much for him to wrap his mind around. His beautiful, perfect mind. And somehow they had managed to reduced it to this— a wreck, an absolute mess, emotions crashing into each other and spilling over onto his face so he could do little more than grip the back of a chair until his knuckles were white and he couldn’t even see through the ocean in his eyes. 

His skin felt hot as the tears rolled over his cheekbones and directly onto the floor. He was not a stranger to emotion, but this— whatever the hell “this” was— felt brand new. New like new boots, the type that leave your skin blistered and red and raw. His body was shaking and his stomach turned and he was sure that if he sobbed any harder he might start retching.

He felt so vulnerable; he was a scar that had been scratched at so many times it had finally ripped open and started bleeding again.

Logan was angry. Angrier than he had been in years. He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t they see that? Why wouldn’t they let him help? But more importantly, why couldn’t he help? Was he useless? Was he a tool that had no purpose, tossed aside by the others like a spare screw that didn’t fit anywhere? 

“Logan?” 

His head shot up, back straightening and squaring up in under a second. Janus was standing on the other side of the room like he had frozen in the middle of his movements. His eyebrows were woven together in what seemed like concern. 

“You don’t look ok?” His expression was a painting of confusion. 

Logan rubbed at his eyes from beneath his glasses, “I- I assure you, I’m perfectly fine.” 

Janus just laughed, silky and self-satisfied as always but maybe a little softer than usual, “Lying’s kind of my thing, remember, Logan? You look… great.” 

Logan let his head hang, not even trying to keep up appearances now that Janus had called him out. He glared at the other side from over the rim of his glasses, “Can I help you? Or are you done ridiculing me?” 

Janus took a couple hesitant steps forward, tilting his head to the side like he was absolutely fascinated by Logan. He began speaking slowly but it was obvious from his intense stare that his focus was very far from the words leaving his mouth, “Ridiculing? Oh dear, no, that was not my intention. What’s the matter? Something must be incredibly wrong to have put you in such a state.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Logan snarled, “Am I not allowed to act as irrationally as the rest of you? Is sanity expected only of me? Maybe I’m tired of it! Do you understand how exhausting it is to carry the weight of responsibility with no one to lend a hand? In fact you all fight against me, pushing me downhill and spiraling Thomas further and further away from stability. Well, maybe I’m tired of it. Maybe I’m so damn tired of yelling until my voice is hoarse, just because I’m trying to look out for the well being of everyone else only to be discounted because ‘it’s not fun’ or because I couldn’t possibly understand, being the cold and unfeeling robot that I am. I am sick of it!” 

“Logan, I’m going to need you to calm down.” 

Logan blinked back into the present.

Janus was standing in front of him, hands raised to hold Logan’s face. Logan was startled to find his cheeks damp once again with tears beneath Janus’ quivering fingers. Janus was staring at him with a combination of fascination and terror. 

“Logan do you know what’s happening?” Janus’ voice shook nearly as hard as his hands as he drew them back to his chest. 

Logan could feel his forehead crease as he stared back at Janus, “What do you mean?” 

Janus laughed but it had lost its honeyed qualities; just a humorless, sharp exhale, “Look around you.” 

He raised his head at Janus’ cue, taking in the room around him. A glass that had left on the table was now broken into pieces. The glass of picture frames hung on the wall now lay shattered on the carpet. Items scattered on shelfs throughout had tipped over or rolled onto the floor. 

Logan’s mouth fell open, “Did I— How— What— Did I do that?” 

Janus nodded his head slowly like he wasn’t sure to believe it either, “The whole mindspace started shaking.” 

“What does this mean?” Logan reached out slowly to pick up a shard of the glass. His hands trembled as he studied the piece, turning it between his fingers as if he could find an answer in its angular edges. 

“Well, sometimes when a dark side is distressed enough, they can negatively affect the environment around them,” Janus had been speaking in slow, almost broken segments as if he had been constructing the sentence word by word, choosing carefully and cautiously. Now, though, he started rushing his words out like they burned his tongue, “You know, like the screaming thing Remus does or when Virgil makes the whole room go dark, that sort of thing.” 

“Wait. Janus, you said ‘dark side.’ And don’t try to lie to me, I have a perfect memory and I know what you said.” 

Janus winced and tried for a smile, “Yes, well…” 

Logan arched one of his eyebrows, “You are aware that I’m not a dark side, yes? And unlike Virgil, I was never once in my existence a dark side.” 

“No, no I know that,” He clasped and unclasped his hands together serval times as if the awkward movement could fill the even more awkward silence, “I’m implying that you might be becoming one?” 

“Oh, please,” Logan scoffed, “Is that even possible? And how have I even done anything to deserve the title of being ‘dark’?” 

Janus mirrored Logan’s raised brow, “Oh, and I’ve earned such a label? The point is, you’re starting to act more and more like us. Whether or not any of us are actually deserve that title is a debate for another day.” 

Logan studied the face in front of him. Janus was a master of deception— of course he was— but in this moment he seemed completely open, completely genuine. And if Janus was being honest… well, that could be a bad thing. 

He opened his mouth to speak but the words were slow to come to his tongue, “So, assuming this hypothetical you’ve proposed, how could this happen? How is such a shift even a possibility?” 

Janus gave another humorless laugh but at least he didn’t sound terrified this time, “I really don’t have the answer to that one.” 

Logan stared done at the floor, eyes roaming the pattern of the carpet but his mind incredibly far away. Was that possible? Could a side go “bad”? More importantly, could he go bad? Was he bad? Had he failed Thomas so much, hurt the others so much, provided so little use yet so much ill-will that— 

“If anyone has the answers, it’s going to be you.” 

Janus’ voice broke through Logan’s thoughts, “What?” 

Janus pulled out two chairs from underneath the table and faced them towards each other. He took a seat in one and pointed at the other, “Something is obviously wrong. Tell me what’s going on.” 

Logan stumbled into the chair, stunned by the commanding note in Janus’ tone. He sat down and stared blankly across at the other side, unsure of where to even start. He pursed his lips for a moment, “Why does it matter?” 

“Because you knocked my favourite mug off of its shelf and I need answers,” Janus rolled his eyes, “If what I think is happening is happening, that’s a huge change that could affect everyone— including Thomas. Now stop avoiding the question.” 

Logan glared down at his hands gripping each other in his lap. His vocabulary had abandoned him. This simply was not a familiar situation to him. He shared facts, advice, outside information; but feelings, his subjective truth? That stayed locked away. 

“Let’s start with why you’re crying, ok?” Janus’ voice was gentle but his question was still very clearly an instruction. 

Logan jerked his head up as he realized there were tears running down his face. Again. He cursed under his breath as he rubbed them away, “I don’t even know. I guess I’m just not used to doing this, this sharing of emotions.” 

Janus nodded, “And why aren’t you with the others? It sounds like there’s quite an argument going on up there. You usually jump right into the fray.” 

“I don’t know,” Logan pinched his nose and tried to ignore the burning ache in his chest. It was strange, the emotion so raw and intense that it had the effect of a physical wound. It was like the tissue of his rib cage was being torn apart, “I tried to join in, to try and add at least a little reason to the discussion… but they refused to listen.” 

“Logan, have they ever listened you about anything?” 

He let his head fall back down to avoid looking at Janus, “Not really. I can’t help but think I’ve failed Thomas.” 

Janus placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder, “No, no that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to know if the others took your advice.” 

Logan raised his gaze to make eye contact with Janus, “Well, sometimes.”

“But do you have to work to get them to even hear you?” 

Logan laughed, “Oh, yeah.” 

“And to they ever listen to you about you? Do they even ask?” 

“Why would they?” Logan paused, “Wait, should they?” 

Janus stared at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, pity swimming in his eyes, “I think I see the problem. I think your negative interactions with the others is causing you to turn into a dark side. It’s almost like a defense mechanism or something.” 

“But my interactions with the others haven’t been negative. They can be frustrating, yes, but they’re the closest things to friends that I would ever have. At the very least, they are my companions. Right?”

Janus grimaced, “From what you were saying about ten seconds ago, their treatment of you hasn’t exactly been positive. I’m not say they’re not your friends, just that… maybe they don’t act like it as much as they should. They don’t seem value you or what you have to say.” 

“But I need them to,” Logan spoke slowly, deep in thought, “How else am I supposed to help Thomas, to fulfill my purpose?” 

Janus said nothing and Logan continued he train of thought, “I guess it makes perfect sense for me to do what’s necessary to be heard. I can’t protect Thomas from their violent irrationality if they don’t listen to me. I guess this is just the natural course of action.” 

Janus seemed hesitant as he nodded, “I mean… yes, I guess so.” 

“Besides—,” Logan shrugged, “—maybe being a dark side isn’t so bad.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Logan smirked, “Sometimes you need to raise your voice to be heard; if I need to scare the others a little to cut through the chaos, then so be it. And it seems that I’ve been given the perfect tool to do so.” 

“Logan, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea… ” 

But Janus’ voice was already fading away as Logan rose back into the argument. He had been ignored for the last time. Never again would he be brushed to the side for being the cold outcast. They would listen to him— whether they liked it or not. 

Logan was not a stranger to emotion. And right now, he was smiling. Grinning, in fact— ear to ear, power flickering in his eyes. He was the voice of reason and no longer would he be an accessory to their foolishness. 

[starlightinhumanform]

Breaking Point

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Loceit (could be interpreted as platonic or romantic)

Summary: Sometimes being a light side just does’t cut it. After a particularly aggravating argument, Logan begins… changing. (Logan centric angst fic with guest appearances of most of the others,,,, but mostly Janus).

Warnings: Negativity/Coldness/Miscommunications Throughout, Mild Language Throughout, Some Mentions of Injury/Illness Used as Metaphors

Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This was written for the wonderful Spring Fling event here on tumblr! It was so much fun and I can’t wait to participate again! I know I’ve been very inactive lately and I’m very sorry for that (mental illness can be a real kicker lmao), but I’m trying to get back into my groove of writing and posting!! Stay safe and healthy. I love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link   Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Logan was not a stranger to emotion. Despite popular belief, he experienced them like any other side. The difference was his ability to tamp them down, keep them from clouding his logic; it was an ability he prided himself on. Sure, sometimes his anger got the better of him when the others were being far too ridiculous. But for the most part, he was clean, calculated, cool.

Right now, though, his head was pounding. Virgil was shouting hoarsely and Roman was yelling back even louder. Patton just whimpered, trying to get the two to stop fighting but failing miserably as he flinched back from both of their raised voices. Thomas stood in the middle of it all with glazed eyes.

And Logan, what was he doing? Standing to the side. Being completely useless, it seemed. He pressed his fingers against his temples and tried to massage away the pain. His efforts once again failed and he turned his attention back to the situation.

Thomas had to choose whether or not to go to a Broadway audition and wanted to consult with his sides to get their opinions on the opportunity. Unfortunately his plan had backfired and now the choice was even less clear. It was a debate, they were trying to make a decision— Logan should have been leading the entire thing. Instead, he had been shoved to the side as Virgil and Roman turned the discussion into a fight.

“It’s too big of a risk! If Thomas fails at this, he may never audition again. Think about how that would hurt Patton. Think about how it could ruin his whole career,” Virgil hissed.

Roman answered too clearly, over-pronouncing his words as he spat them out like they tasted as bitter as his tone, “You’re suffocating me. You’re keeping Thomas from achieving his dreams. Your worries are simply too much. If anything is going to ruin his career, it’s going to be you.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows and gave a cold laugh, “Oh, I’m sorry? I thought we agreed it was my job to protect Thomas? So why don’t you just back the hell up and remember your place.”

“My place? And where exactly would that be?”

“Safety comes before your stupid fantasies.”

“This isn’t even about safety! This is about you being a coward!”

The room went quiet. Quiet, not calm. It was like the moments of silent after a lightning strike when everyone holds their breath, waiting for the roar of thunder. Logan needed to interject before things got even worse and this was his best opportunity to do so.

He cleared his throat, “If you two would like to pause this illogical arguing for a moment, I would like to make a few points.”

All eyes turned on him. He was nearly taken aback by the amount of anger in both Virgil and Roman’s gazes, suddenly turned on him instead of each other. It burned against his skin as they both glared at him. Patton tried to give him a smile but it was far weaker than usual. Thomas’ eyes were the worst— dazed from all the yelling, confused and torn apart from his aspects disagreeing so violently. Logan felt like he had failed; failed them all, but especially Thomas. It was his job to keep order, to weigh the pros and cons, to unravel problems, to make things clear. And when the others needed him the most, he had let it all fall into the hands’ of chaos.

“I just think there are better ways to make this decision. You two have been yelling each other for over half an hour and it’s gotten nowhere.”

“Yeah, because he refuses to admit that he’s wrong!” Roman interrupted.

Logan gritted his teeth, “Please try to restrain yourself from talking over me.”

Virgil was the one to break in this time, “Logan, maybe this isn’t the type of argument that you belong in.”

“Not the- not the type of argument I belong in?” Logan could almost laugh, “This is the exact sort of discussion I need to be included in because otherwise we end up in a mess like this!”

“Logan,” Virgil growled, “I don’t think you’re understanding what’s going on here. This is an issue me and Roman need to settle. No matter what that means.”

“No matter what that means?? Are you even listening to yourself? That’s the sort of talking that causes disaster!”

“No, Virgil’s right about one thing,” Logan turned his attention to Roman as he was interrupted once again, “This is between the two of us. Don’t get yourself involved.”

“If I don’t get involved, you’re going to tear Thomas apart trying to get your ways!” Logan could feel his temper slipping away from him just as his control of the situation was slipping through his fingers. These idiots had their heads so far up their asses, they couldn’t even see the damage they were doing to everyone else.

“Logan!” Roman snapped his name to get his attention, “Maybe you should just go.”

He scoffed, “Go? You really think you can solve this problem by yourselves?”

“Go.”

Logan glanced at the stairwell where Virgil had snarled a singular syllable at him, “Excuse me?”

“He said to go,” Roman was glaring at him, “And, in this case, I agree with him.”

Logan’s mouth fell open. It was ridiculous. They needed him, but apparently they just couldn’t see it. They needed him, but they didn’t want him. He shook his head. A laugh was rising up his throat but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny.

He looked around the room, “You really want me to go? Fine then.”

Thomas and Patton both seemed distressed but said nothing to stop him. Roman and Virgil didn’t have to say anything; the anger boiling behind both of their stares communicated plenty.

And that was all he needed. Logan sunk out of the room without another word.

He reached the mindspace in a matter of seconds, appearing in the dining room. The laugh that had been trapped in his throat bubbled over and crashed to the floor as it morphed into a cry. He clapped a hand over his mouth as giggles mixed with sobs and spilled past his fingers, filling the quiet room with hiccuping whimpers. It was just too much for him to wrap his mind around. His beautiful, perfect mind. And somehow they had managed to reduced it to this— a wreck, an absolute mess, emotions crashing into each other and spilling over onto his face so he could do little more than grip the back of a chair until his knuckles were white and he couldn’t even see through the ocean in his eyes.

His skin felt hot as the tears rolled over his cheekbones and directly onto the floor. He was not a stranger to emotion, but this— whatever the hell “this” was— felt brand new. New like new boots, the type that leave your skin blistered and red and raw. His body was shaking and his stomach turned and he was sure that if he sobbed any harder he might start retching.

He felt so vulnerable; he was a scar that had been scratched at so many times it had finally ripped open and started bleeding again.

Logan was angry. Angrier than he had been in years. He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t they see that? Why wouldn’t they let him help? But more importantly, why couldn’t he help? Was he useless? Was he a tool that had no purpose, tossed aside by the others like a spare screw that didn’t fit anywhere?

“Logan?”

His head shot up, back straightening and squaring up in under a second. Janus was standing on the other side of the room like he had frozen in the middle of his movements. His eyebrows were woven together in what seemed like concern.

“You don’t look ok?” His expression was a painting of confusion.

Logan rubbed at his eyes from beneath his glasses, “I- I assure you, I’m perfectly fine.”

Janus just laughed, silky and self-satisfied as always but maybe a little softer than usual, “Lying’s kind of my thing, remember, Logan? You look... great.”

Logan let his head hang, not even trying to keep up appearances now that Janus had called him out. He glared at the other side from over the rim of his glasses, “Can I help you? Or are you done ridiculing me?”

Janus took a couple hesitant steps forward, tilting his head to the side like he was absolutely fascinated by Logan. He began speaking slowly but it was obvious from his intense stare that his focus was very far from the words leaving his mouth, “Ridiculing? Oh dear, no, that was not my intention. What’s the matter? Something must be incredibly wrong to have put you in such a state.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Logan snarled, “Am I not allowed to act as irrationally as the rest of you? Is sanity expected only of me? Maybe I’m tired of it! Do you understand how exhausting it is to carry the weight of responsibility with no one to lend a hand? In fact you all fight against me, pushing me downhill and spiraling Thomas further and further away from stability. Well, maybe I’m tired of it. Maybe I’m so damn tired of yelling until my voice is hoarse, just because I’m trying to look out for the well being of everyone else only to be discounted because ‘it’s not fun’ or because I couldn’t possibly understand, being the cold and unfeeling robot that I am. I am sick of it!”

“Logan, I’m going to need you to calm down.”

Logan blinked back into the present.

Janus was standing in front of him, hands raised to hold Logan’s face. Logan was startled to find his cheeks damp once again with tears beneath Janus’ quivering fingers. Janus was staring at him with a combination of fascination and terror.

“Logan do you know what’s happening?” Janus’ voice shook nearly as hard as his hands as he drew them back to his chest.

Logan could feel his forehead crease as he stared back at Janus, “What do you mean?”

Janus laughed but it had lost its honeyed qualities; just a humorless, sharp exhale, “Look around you.”

He raised his head at Janus’ cue, taking in the room around him. A glass that had left on the table was now broken into pieces. The glass of picture frames hung on the wall now lay shattered on the carpet. Items scattered on shelfs throughout had tipped over or rolled onto the floor.

Logan’s mouth fell open, “Did I— How— What— Did I do that?”

Janus nodded his head slowly like he wasn’t sure to believe it either, “The whole mindspace started shaking.”

“What does this mean?” Logan reached out slowly to pick up a shard of the glass. His hands trembled as he studied the piece, turning it between his fingers as if he could find an answer in its angular edges.

“Well, sometimes when a dark side is distressed enough, they can negatively affect the environment around them,” Janus had been speaking in slow, almost broken segments as if he had been constructing the sentence word by word, choosing carefully and cautiously. Now, though, he started rushing his words out like they burned his tongue, “You know, like the screaming thing Remus does or when Virgil makes the whole room go dark, that sort of thing.”

“Wait. Janus, you said ‘dark side.’ And don’t try to lie to me, I have a perfect memory and I know what you said.”

Janus winced and tried for a smile, “Yes, well...”

Logan arched one of his eyebrows, “You are aware that I’m not a dark side, yes? And unlike Virgil, I was never once in my existence a dark side.”

“No, no I know that,” He clasped and unclasped his hands together serval times as if the awkward movement could fill the even more awkward silence, “I’m implying that you might be becoming one?”

“Oh, please,” Logan scoffed, “Is that even possible? And how have I even done anything to deserve the title of being ‘dark’?”

Janus mirrored Logan’s raised brow, “Oh, and I’ve earned such a label? The point is, you’re starting to act more and more like us. Whether or not any of us are actually deserve that title is a debate for another day.”

Logan studied the face in front of him. Janus was a master of deception— of course he was— but in this moment he seemed completely open, completely genuine. And if Janus was being honest... well, that could be a bad thing.

He opened his mouth to speak but the words were slow to come to his tongue, “So, assuming this hypothetical you’ve proposed, how could this happen? How is such a shift even a possibility?”

Janus gave another humorless laugh but at least he didn’t sound terrified this time, “I really don’t have the answer to that one.”

Logan stared done at the floor, eyes roaming the pattern of the carpet but his mind incredibly far away. Was that possible? Could a side go “bad”? More importantly, could he go bad? Was he bad? Had he failed Thomas so much, hurt the others so much, provided so little use yet so much ill-will that—

“If anyone has the answers, it’s going to be you.”

Janus’ voice broke through Logan’s thoughts, “What?”

Janus pulled out two chairs from underneath the table and faced them towards each other. He took a seat in one and pointed at the other, “Something is obviously wrong. Tell me what’s going on.”

Logan stumbled into the chair, stunned by the commanding note in Janus’ tone. He sat down and stared blankly across at the other side, unsure of where to even start. He pursed his lips for a moment, “Why does it matter?”

“Because you knocked my favourite mug off of its shelf and I need answers,” Janus rolled his eyes, “If what I think is happening is happening, that’s a huge change that could affect everyone— including Thomas. Now stop avoiding the question.”

Logan glared down at his hands gripping each other in his lap. His vocabulary had abandoned him. This simply was not a familiar situation to him. He shared facts, advice, outside information; but feelings, his subjective truth? That stayed locked away.

“Let’s start with why you’re crying, ok?” Janus’ voice was gentle but his question was still very clearly an instruction.

Logan jerked his head up as he realized there were tears running down his face. Again. He cursed under his breath as he rubbed them away, “I don’t even know. I guess I’m just not used to doing this, this sharing of emotions.”

Janus nodded, “And why aren’t you with the others? It sounds like there’s quite an argument going on up there. You usually jump right into the fray.”

“I don’t know,” Logan pinched his nose and tried to ignore the burning ache in his chest. It was strange, the emotion so raw and intense that it had the effect of a physical wound. It was like the tissue of his rib cage was being torn apart, “I tried to join in, to try and add at least a little reason to the discussion... but they refused to listen.”

“Logan, have they ever listened you about anything?”

He let his head fall back down to avoid looking at Janus, “Not really. I can’t help but think I’ve failed Thomas.”

Janus placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder, “No, no that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to know if the others took your advice.”

Logan raised his gaze to make eye contact with Janus, “Well, sometimes.”

“But do you have to work to get them to even hear you?”

Logan laughed, “Oh, yeah.”

“And to they ever listen to you about you? Do they even ask?”

“Why would they?” Logan paused, “Wait, should they?”

Janus stared at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, pity swimming in his eyes, “I think I see the problem. I think your negative interactions with the others is causing you to turn into a dark side. It’s almost like a defense mechanism or something.”

“But my interactions with the others haven’t been negative. They can be frustrating, yes, but they’re the closest things to friends that I would ever have. At the very least, they are my companions. Right?”

Janus grimaced, “From what you were saying about ten seconds ago, their treatment of you hasn’t exactly been positive. I’m not say they’re not your friends, just that... maybe they don’t act like it as much as they should. They don’t seem value you or what you have to say.”

“But I need them to,” Logan spoke slowly, deep in thought, “How else am I supposed to help Thomas, to fulfill my purpose?”

Janus said nothing and Logan continued he train of thought, “I guess it makes perfect sense for me to do what’s necessary to be heard. I can’t protect Thomas from their violent irrationality if they don’t listen to me. I guess this is just the natural course of action.”

Janus seemed hesitant as he nodded, “I mean... yes, I guess so.”

“Besides—,” Logan shrugged, “—maybe being a dark side isn’t so bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Logan smirked, “Sometimes you need to raise your voice to be heard; if I need to scare the others a little to cut through the chaos, then so be it. And it seems that I’ve been given the perfect tool to do so.”

“Logan, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea... ”

But Janus’ voice was already fading away as Logan rose back into the argument. He had been ignored for the last time. Never again would he be brushed to the side for being the cold outcast. They would listen to him— whether they liked it or not.

Logan was not a stranger to emotion. And right now, he was smiling. Grinning, in fact— ear to ear, power flickering in his eyes. He was the voice of reason and no longer would he be an accessory to their foolishness.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist, just send an ask or reply to this post :p 

~ @phan-fander @abi-beehive @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @endless-rain-of-words @vicdehart @im-actually-ok @softnic @catolicabuena @icequeenoriginal ~

[honeymoonjin]

A/N: a request for ot7 angst. Reader goes to surprise the boys during a concert only to realize they don’t have time for her. 1.7k. Special shout-out to my best girl @jeonau for this gorgeous banner xx

“It’s just that they’re in the middle of sound check, Y/n, it’s not a good time. Maybe if you arrived earlier…”

You nod at the bodyguard, a bulky guy that looked intimidating, but one you knew to be a genuinely kind soul. Smiling tightly to fight back tears, you shift your weight awkwardly. “I tried, that’s the thing. The stopover was delayed four hours, I was supposed to be here earlier this morning. Please, I’ll be quick, Seok-woo.”

You can’t help but notice the way he adjusts his stance like he’s preparing for you to try and push past him and break into the backstage area. Biceps flexing, he crosses his arms. “It’s not a good time,” he says again, “I’m sorry. Listen, I’ll call up the hotel for an extra room, and we can book you a flight in the morning. Did you even check with Sejin before doing this?”

You breathe out shakily, feeling the sick mass of disappointment rolling around your stomach. Fuck, you seriously didn’t want to cry in front of him. “It was meant to be a surprise! If everything went fine, I would’ve been here already, but I got to the stopover and the flight was delayed and it was too late to turn around and go back. I thought you guys would at least let me see them.” You sniff and curse the way it echoes in the concrete halls. “Have you at least told them I’m here?”

Seok-woo gives you a sad smile, and wordlessly reaches into a fanny pack to bring out a travel pack of tissues. When you make no move to take them, he sighs and lets his arm drop down to his side. “Y/n, they’re busy and they’re focused right now. We can’t be giving them a distraction right before the biggest stage of their lives.”

His face changes the moment he finishes his sentence, a stricken look at his poor choice of words, but you’re already stalking away from him angrily, feet thumping harder at the floor than necessary. He calls out to you, not that you listen. A fucking distraction. That’s what you were.

An hour passing finds you at the back of the stage end of the venue, shivering slightly although the sun is blazing in a clear sky. “Could I at least get a ticket for the show? I’ll even pay.”

“It’s sold out, Y/n, you know that. There’s not a single seat free in the whole venue. Hell, we’ve already broken out the additional temporary seating and that’s full too.”

You cradle the phone to your ear, hearing the familiar soothing drawl of Sejin. Dating the boys certainly meant that you had come into contact with their manager on many occasions, and you liked to think that the two of you had some Hollywood-like, unlikely-friendship kind of bond. Many a time you’d quite happily spend hours chatting with him while waiting for your boyfriends to finish up with a shoot or recording session. “Okay, maybe I could just wait in their dressing room. You don’t have to even tell them I’m here; I’d wait until they left and then slip in.”

A patient sigh. “I think it’s better if they rest up after the concert. They’ll want to do a v-live, no doubt, or at least some of them will, but after that I want them getting a good night’s sleep.”

You frown, chewing on the corner of your nail as you try to contain your worry. “But don’t you think they’d sleep better if I was with them? Tae-tae always tells me he doesn’t sleep well when I’m not there. So, it would be better for everyone if-”

“This isn’t up for negotiation, Y/n.” Sejin’s voice is firm, and the realization that you might really not get to see your boys makes tears spring to your eyes again.

“Tell me what I have to do, Sejin. Where do I have to go, how long do I have to wait? I’ll do anything if it means I get to see them.”

He pauses, the line so still that for a moment you wonder if he’s hung up on you. “Hang around the venue,” he answers finally in a strained voice, “I’ll see what I can do.” You exhale in a rush, ready to thank him, but he’s not done. “But no promises,” he warns quickly, “if I call you back and it’s a no, then it’s a no, Y/n. Okay? I’ve got to go, goodbye.”

You mumble a reply and slump down on the bench, gathering the will to go back inside and find a good spot to curl up for a few hours. Part of you wants to message one of them, even though you know they have a strict phones-off policy during sound check. Even so, you find yourself on your phone, hovering your fingers over the group chat.

This wasn’t just a random, spontaneous visit. You wanted to surprise them not with just your presence. The last time you had seen them was before they flew over to the U.S., and the eight of you had basically been in bed for a solid week. Apparently, something during that had taken a hold because now, just over a month later, you were sitting here with a photo of a positive pregnancy stick on your phone, resisting the urge to send it to them.

Perhaps this was why you felt like you had been on the verge of tears for the past twelve hours. You weren’t scared; if anything, you’d be overjoyed right about now, only that you missed them so fucking much, felt their absence like a physical void inside you, and you couldn’t think about anything but being with them.

With a pained sigh, you close out of the group chat thread. If there was one thing you were determined about, it was that you wanted to tell them in person. See the looks on their faces when they realized they were going to be parents.

It would be a logistical nightmare, perhaps. You hoped they didn’t get to hung up on who was the biological father. And part of you was scared for what would happen once the baby started growing up. How could a child possibly comprehend having eight parents when most children had two? But then you would think of the way Jimin was so gentle with that cat on his music video shoot, and the way Yoongi was so sweet to the younger fans at fan meets, and all the ways all of the men you loved would be amazing, caring dads, and that fear slipped into the background.

You had spent enough time on those two long flights to ponder what their reactions looked like. As you made your way back inside, winding through all the staff halls, looking for a relatively empty room, you imagined how it would be with each one of them.

The man you started dating first, Hoseok, would have a smile so big his cheeks would hurt, happier than ever as he exclaimed, “really?” He was always known as the loudest guy in the room, but whenever he got truly great news, he would quieten down out of shock. You couldn’t wait to see the disbelieving joy on his face.

Namjoon would probably hold you by the waist and squint at your stomach, trying to come to terms with the fact that there was life in there. Taehyung would get super sappy and wouldn’t take his eyes off you all night, Yoongi would poke fun in the way that meant he really cared, Jin’s eyes bright and glistening as he silently held back tears. Jungkook would laugh loudly, the sound of his glee carrying over the congratulations of all the other men, and Jimin would be openly crying before you had even finished your sentence.

You smiled bitterly, finally managing to locate a relatively small room that had a few dusty boxes of black plastic stage equipment, a broken concession stand sign leaning against the wall, and a broomstick. Figuring there wouldn’t be a huge demand for this space, you let yourself sink down the wall and onto the carpeted floor, worn thin over time.

You wasted away hours, hearing the thrumming of the sound check and eventually the concert through the walls. With nothing to do, and not wanting to use up all the battery on your phone, your mind unraveled, latching onto a million and one images of what life would be like over the coming months. Doctor’s appointments, picking out baby clothes, setting up a nursery in the dorm.

You knew it was foolish to feel this miserable, that it was probably just your sudden imbalance of hormones sending you spiraling, but it felt unbelievably painful to be so close yet so far from them.

They were out there, having the time of their lives, no doubt sure that you were chilling back at the dorm in Seoul, rather than holed up in a musty glorified closet. A vibration on your stomach jolts you out of your moping, and you pull your phone out of your pocket. A text from Sejin. Where are you now?

Heart racing, you jump up and rush out of the room, rushing down the hallway. I’ll come down to the dressing room now.

You can feel a vibrant motion in the air, the concrete ceilings almost vibrating as the noise above heightens with the fireworks that came at the end of the show. You had nothing to worry about, you reasoned, that whole time you were fine. Now, you could go see your boys, and tell them the great news after a concert well done, and then spend the night entangled with them, skin on skin on skin. Everything was fi-

Go to the staff entrance. Min-su is escorting you to the airport. Flight leaves in just under two hours.

You recoil physically from the screen in your hand, step faltering, sending your shoulder crashing into the wall. He was sending you home? After all that, you weren’t allowed to see them?

Another text. Only two more concerts left, Y/n. Just be patient. They don’t need you here right now.

Eyes stinging viciously, you push off the wall and carry on, trying to blink hard enough to will the tears away. That always seemed to be the problem. They didn’t need you. But you needed them.

[angualupin]

There’s a Terry Pratchett quote, in one of the Witches novels I think, about how miracles don’t have to be good ones. A string of improbable events that leads to a terrible outcome is just as much a miracle.

I’ve been thinking of that quote a lot while reading Unraveling the Franklin Expedition.

Woodman’s narrative, which does seem to fit the evidence the best, goes something like this (this is more to assemble a clear narrative in my head; cut for length and those of you who already know all of this):

The two ships, having spent the winter of ‘45-46 locked in ice at Beechy, continue west in their mission to find the Passage

Finding Peel Straight uncharacteristically free of ice in the summer of ‘46, they sailed down it, ending up north of King William Island later that year. Peel Straight would not be free of ice again for a decade.

The expedition was then faced with the choice of sailing east or west around King William’s Land, which they did not know for sure was an island. Woodman makes the argument that Franklin would have at least considered Poctes Bay, to the east, as a sheltered spot to winter over, as the ships did at Beechy the prior year. Poctes Bay turns out to not be a bay at all, but the opening of what is now known as James Ross Straight, the eastern path around King William’s Island.

There is evidence, albeit circumstantial, that the ships did attempt to sail down James Ross Straight, but as said straight is extremely shallow and filled with shoals, at least one of the ships foundered and a great number of supplies had to be offloaded to get her off the shoals. James Ross Straight is very nearly, if not completely, impassable to ships of the draught of Terror and Erebus (sorry show!Crozier). The eastern route was therefore closed to them.

The western route, through Victoria Straight, had already been described by JCR as having the “heaviest masses” of ice he saw in the Arctic. The Franklin Expedition would have known this. But, with Peel Straight frozen behind them and James Ross Straight impassable, they had no other options. West it was, and they ended up frozen in not too far north of Victory Point.

There they stayed for the winter of ‘46-’47. And just as the summer of ‘46 was unseasonably warm, leading to Peel Straight being open, the summer of ‘47 was unseasonably cold, and there were no leads. We know, thanks to the Victory Point note, that Gore was sent on an exploratory mission to King William Island in April, and that Franklin died in June. Because the leaders of the expedition were not actually idiots, there was probably more than one exploratory party sent out, and a fair amount of the area might well have been mapped.

Certainly Crozier and Fitzjames seemed to know where they were heading the next spring, in ‘48, when they left our last surviving written evidence in the Victory Point note. Woodman’s argument is that this was not a desperate attempt to reach safety with the Hudson Bay Company due to starvation on the ships, but instead was a massive hunting party undertaken to stave off scurvy. Hence why they were heading south to Back’s Fish River, where they knew there would be game, rather than north to Fury Beach, where they had the best chance of rescue.

They may or may not have reached Back’s River, but most of them certainly seemed to have survived the spring of ‘48, and returned to the ships when leads opened up in the summer. They then sailed the ships down the western coast of King William’s Island, when they were once again frozen in, this time off Erebus Bay on the southeastern tip of the island.

The southeastern part of King William’s Island has a much higher density of game and therefore a much higher density of humans, so here they met the Inuit, who visited them on their ships during in 1849 and possibly had a large mutual caribou hunt in the game-rich area north of Terror Bay (on the southern coast of the island) in the summer of that year. A semi-permanent camp was set up on the shore of Erebus Bay, and another one on the shore of Terror Bay.

In 1850, things started to break down. Crozier may well have died the year before; Fitzjames was presumably in charge. One of the ships -- we now know it must have been Terror -- was thrown on her side and staved in by the ice. Many of the men moved to the camp on the shore of Erebus Bay.

In the spring of 1850, a party of men, led by “Aglooka” (one of several Europeans to bear this name, this one possibly being Fitzjames) and numbering somewhere around 40, marched south and east with the goal of reaching Repulse Bay and, presumably, aid. They met Inuit at Washington Bay and died, slowly but surely (but without evidence of cannibalism), along the route east, until the final survivors died on Keeuna Island.

Meanwhile, the men who remained at the camp north of Terror Bay resorted to cannibalism and died. Some traveled back to the camp at Erebus Bay across the tip of the island; many subsequently died at this camp, and cannibalism was practiced here as well. Some made it back to the ships, or rather, to the still upright Erebus, where many more died and were transferred to Terror. 

Then the ice broke up, in the summer of  1850 or 1851. Terror sank once freed from the ice, but not until after Inuit had visited it and its morbid cargo. Erebus, with the expedition’s only survivors, now numbering probably less than 20, sailed south.

Erebus anchored west of the Adelaide Peninsula near Kirkwall Island, presumably while her crew determined whether to sail west or east; neither option was ideal. She subsequently became frozen in yet again, was abandoned, boarded by the Inuit, and sank in fairly shallow water, where she was discovered in 2014.

The survivors sailed up Simpson Straight, and left evidence -- and bodies -- at Thunder Cove, Starvation Cove, and along the route to the south-east, heading, once again, to Back’s Fish River, Repulse Bay, and rescue. Four survivors may have been taken in by Inuit near Repulse Bay, continuing on their way the next summer, and that is the last we hear of the Franklin Expedition.

Ultimately it wasn’t a string of improbable events that led to disaster. Arguably, it was only one: an unusually warm summer meant that Peel Straight was free of ice just in time for the Expedition to sail down it. It subsequently froze behind them, as it typically did in those days prior to global warming, and the ships were trapped north of King William Island, a land that couldn’t support 129 men even in a good year, with the only options James Ross Straight, full of shoals, and Victoria Straight, full of ice. Everything proceeded from that.

[robinskey]

The Duel (Harry Potter x Reader)

Prompt: Could u do something Harry Potter x reader were the marauders are alive and the reader is Harry’s gf and is as good as Dumbledore in dueling. And she was staying at Harry’s house for spring break and (Harry is still the boi who lived) Voldemort attacks them and says something like “if she wins she safe but for now I am going to take the most important thing in ur life” to Harry and he starts crying but then she out duels him and comforts Harry and Jily notices how much they love each other?

A/N: Thanks for requesting, anon! I appreciate the level of detail and thought you put into this prompt. I tried to follow it as closely as I could. Enjoy!

Warnings: None-story under the cut

Spending spring break with your boyfriend sounded like an absolute dream.

Until it turned into a nightmare.

You and Harry were wandering along a cobblestone path one evening, hand-in-hand. Your stomachs were full of pasta from the Italian restaurant you’d just visited. Harry’s parents had offered to pick you up from the restaurant, since they knew you’d be out past dark. It was a beautiful night, though, and you both decided you’d rather walk. Lily and James agreed; after all, Godric’s Hollow had always been an incredibly safe little town. The only exception to that rule happened nearly a decade and a half ago-the night a much younger version of your boyfriend became The Boy Who Lived.

Recalling what could have happened that night sends a shiver up your spine. Harry misinterprets this as a temperature issue and shrugs off his jacket before you can even say a word, wrapping it around your shoulders. Since you don’t have the heart to tell him the real reason for your shudder, you simply thank him.

And that’s when a sudden, eardrum-splitting screech rings out across the street. It sounds like it’s coming from the cemetery.

Of course it is. Every time something creepy happens, it’s always in the cemetery.

Harry looks over at you, panic swimming in his emerald eyes.

“Stay here. I’ll check it out,” he says, reaching toward his back pocket for his wand.

“I’m not letting you go alone,” you say. 

Harry’s lips part in protest, but then another scream rings out. 

“Fine. But stay behind me.”

Harry wields his wand with one hand and clutches yours with the other. You creep among the tombstones, twigs crunching under your footsteps. As you meander deeper into the graveyard, a thick fog forms around you. It becomes difficult to see beyond a few feet, but you can make out a tall silhouette in the distance. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” Harry calls out. 

The figure grows larger. You can hear its heavy footsteps squishing in the mud, louder with every footfall.

“Harry, something’s not right,” you mumble, tugging on his hand to pull him back. He lets go of you and charges forward.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” he demands.

There’s a flash of red light. Harry’s wand flies out of his hand, and his limp body is thrown the other way. His torso collides with a tombstone.

“Harry?” you scream. 

“Oh, he’s fine-for now, at least,” a deep voice says from beyond the veil of fog. It’s unfamiliar, and yet you feel a twinge of recognition in your chest. Or maybe it’s just panic.

Eventually, the cloaked figure draws near enough for you to make out a face. It’s a sorry excuse for a face-terribly distorted, as though it had once been shattered and then hastily pushed back together again, but all the puzzle pieces never lined back up. Red, beady eyes glare at you from under a black hood. They’re mesmerizing-so much so that you almost miss it when the figure raises his arm to cast another spell. But you’re an excellent duelist-as good as Dumbledore, some even say-so you notice what he’s doing just in the nick of time. You dive behind a tombstone as the first flash of red shatters a statue directly behind the spot where you’d just been standing.

“You-you’re supposed to be dead,” you mumble, mostly to yourself. You hear the soft squish of the earth growing louder as Voldemort trods over it and yell “impedimenta!”, firing the jinx in his general direction before ducking for cover behind a massive oak tree.

“No,” says Lord Voldemort. He gestures to Harry, slumped over the tombstone, too weak to stand. “He is supposed to be dead. And yet, he’s not. Harry Potter has grown up as the Boy Who Lived, while I’ve spent the last decade and a half trying to piece myself back together.” 

Your gaze travels over to Harry. He is kneeling now, using the headstone as support as he attempts to get to his feet. Voldemort follows your line of sight; he snickers as he watches the boy struggle. Voldemort utters a hex, flicks his wrist, and illuminates the graveyard with blue light. Paralyzed, every joint in Harry’s body locks up. You watch in horror as he stiffly falls backwards to the ground.

“The Boy Who Lived barely put up a fight, and he still managed to take everything from me. Incendio!” 

Hot flames lick at your ankles as you somersault away from your previous hiding place. After an “aguamenti” that does nothing but exacerbate the fire, you launch a “stupefy” in Voldemort’s general direction. He dodges it. Voldemort’s booming voice seems to surround you, and the cloak of night has now fully descended upon the graveyard. Confused and disoriented, you begin firing spells in every direction, praying none of them hit Harry. Suddenly, the cloaked figure appears in front of you, his wand pointed directly at your heart.

“Now,” he says, turning his head toward what must have been Harry, “I am going to take the most important thing in your life.” His focus shifts back to you. “Avada-”

“Expelliarmus!”

Green and red collide in an explosion of light. Your ears ring; your heart beats against your ribs. And then, as suddenly as it happens, it’s over. The world is still again, and Voldemort is gone.

You sprint over to Harry so quickly that you almost trip over your feet. In a matter of seconds, he’s unparalyzed and wrapped around you like a sloth. His face nuzzles into your neck, and you feel as water drips on your t-shirt. You run your fingers through his thick curls soothingly.

“It’s okay, my love. I’m here,” you hum. “He’s gone now. Everything is going to be all right.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” he mumbles into your shirt.

“Never,” you say. He’s still clinging to you as though you’ll disintegrate if he lets go, but you gently unravel yourself from his embrace. “We can’t stay here, though. It’s not safe.”

You apparate into Harry’s living room, where his parents are curled up on the sofa together, watching a movie. As soon as the two of you appear, covered in dirt and bruises, Lily and James leap to their feet. They know something’s wrong and start worrying profusely, even though you try telling them that the danger has passed. However, concerned parents are an unstoppable force, and there’s no sense in trying to reason with the Potters. They instruct the two of you to stay put while they enchant the house with charms and protection.

When the elder Potters finally return, they find you and Harry tangled in each other’s arms on the sofa. Your heads tilt together, foreheads touching, as you speak in whispers. Lily and James know they probably shouldn’t eavesdrop, but they can’t help it.

“...I was so scared,” Harry is saying. “I’ve never been that afraid in my life.”

“I know, baby. I was, too,” you say. 

“I felt like a coward. Here’s my girl, fighting off this evil entity, and meanwhile, I’m just laying on the grass, watching.”

A whisper of an ironic smile forms on your lips.

“It’s not like you had much of a choice,” you say. “And besides, it’s not like you would have been much help. We both know I’m the better duelist.” 

“Yeah?” he asks through a chuckle.

“Yeah,” you say, raising your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

He pulls back to hold you at arm’s length.

“You’re a pain in my arse sometimes, you know that?” he says, green eyes glimmering with laughter. 

At this comment, Lily glances pointedly at James. She mouths, Just like us at that age.

“I’m your favorite pain in the arse, though.” You giggle as Harry hesitantly nods.

James elbows his wife, who laughs out loud. He shushes her, but it’s too late. You and Harry notice his parents lurking in the doorway of the living room. Harry’s face burns bright red, but you give a friendly wave.

“Ready for a story, Mr. and Mrs. Potter?”

As dark as the story may be, the mood is a lot lighter with you around. After all, Harry knows everything’s going to be all right, as long as he has you.

[hotoffthepressfics]

Broke But Not Broken: Chapter 7

MASTERLIST

Part VII

Previous | Next

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,918

Summary:You make progress in your job search. An upsetting encounter brings you and Bucky closer.

Warnings: Angst

Inspiration/Chapter Soundtrack:

“Armando’s Rhumba” - Chick Corea

“Bird Set Free” - Sia

“Dream a Little Dream of Me” - Yiruma

A/N: I have been trying to write this chapter for the past week! My sister’s wedding was right in the middle of it so I kept having to put it aside. As a result I feel like this might be a little choppy and ramble in some places. I did make this one a little longer too to make up for it being a little later than I wanted it to be. Thank you all for sticking with me! Please Enjoy!

Y/F/F/N - your fake first name

“Tía, this really isn’t necessary.” You beg.

The woman was determined to have you eat your weight in chorizo and eggs. You’d come over to make sure she was set for the day before heading out. As soon as you walked into the tiny apartment Tía Maria had strong armed you into a chair and piled up a plate.

Thanks to Tía’s efforts you were making quick progress to a healthy weight. The sharp angles of your frame softening as you fill out. You appreciated her for it, though your stomach had a few complaints with how much it was forced to stretch from all the food.

You rise from the chair, ready to make a break for the door. Tía pads back into the room with a paper bag in hand.

“Alright mi hija, but you take this for later. I don’t want you going hungry out there.”  

Resigned you pull the rolled bag from her hand. She feels her way up to your face. You give her your cheek and she gives it a tweak. You smile, enjoying the endearing gesture and walk out of the apartment.

While waiting on the elevator you unroll the pack and peek inside. Two foil wrapped burritos sit at the bottom. You wrinkle your nose. Tía’s food was very good, but you weren’t keen on eating cold scrambled eggs and meat.  

Ding.

The elevator doors spring open. You re-roll the bag and scurry into the small compartment. The metal doors slide closed and the elevator begins its descent only to stop a floor down. As the doors reopen you can make out two familiar voices.

“Oh hey sugar, how are you doing today?” CiCi asks as she and Bucky come into view.  

Bucky’s face sports a rather harried look while he awkwardly carries a microwave in his arms. Your heart flutters at the sight of him.

You shuffle to the side as both of them make their way into the elevator.  

“All I’m sayin’ is I’m about ready to chuck this damn thing out her window. This is the third time I’ve had to take this to fix it. She ‘claims’ it’s broken but every time I make the call it works fine!” Bucky finishes his rant to CiCi.

You watch in befuddlement wondering what they had been discussing. CiCi notices your quizzical stares and supplies,

“Mrs. Carlyle, no. 303. Fussy little old lady who just might break Bucky here of his good-natured spirit.” CiCi pats Bucky's shoulder sympathetically.  

He puts on a martyred expression, letting his head droop a little. You raise your hand to cover the smile spreading across your face.  

"I'm sorry. That is tragic." You giggle through your fingers.

Bucky sighs. He lifts his head. His eyes catch onto the bag hanging from your hand. He nods to it.

"Whatcha got there?" You track his gaze, looking down at your hands.

"Oh! Tía Maria insisted I take some burritos with me." You explain.

Immediately, Bucky perks up and leans forward.

"Really?! Tía's burritos are the best!" Excitement practically comes off him in waves.

"Would... you like one?" You hold up the bag in offering.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm very sure. Tía stuffed me so full already I won't be able to eat anymore." You unravel the little sack and reach in. Grabbing hold of one of the wrapped burritos you pull it up. You stick your hand out toward him.

Bucky shifts the microwave in his grasp.

“Actually, would you mind just opening it and sticking it in my mouth?” He deadpans.

You blink. “You…want me to feed you?” You ask incredulously.

“Well… as you can see I’ve kind of got my hands full. Pleeeease?” Bucky pleads a little pathetically.

You feel your cheeks heat. Stuffing the paper bag carefully under your left arm you unwrap the burrito. He opens his mouth wide as you raise it for him. He takes a hearty bite and moans happily. You wait patiently while he chews, then offer him another bite.

The elevator dips and the doors ding open. You have reached the first floor. Bucky widens his mouth, taking another giant bite, but this time he pulls against your hand for the burrito. You release it. He mumbles an incoherent thank you around his food, winking at you. You shyly wave him away as he ambles away out of the space.

Watching him leave you can feel CiCi’s gaze on you. You glance over to her. When you meet her eyes she folds her arms over her chest and cocks an eyebrow.

“I saw that.”

“What?” You feign ignorance, not wanting to examine what exactly had started between you two.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me. You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

You shrug, “We got to know each other a little last night. It’s just a friendship.”

“Oh, I know about last night. It’s been all he can talk about this morning.” CiCi answers back.

Your face flames a bright, cherry red and you flee the elevator, CiCi hot on your tail. As you walk out the entryway you spin back to CiCi.

“What exactly did he tell you about last night?” It wasn’t as though you had told him not to talk about last night, but you were leery of what details he gave away. It was a pretty stellar meltdown you had had.

CiCi examines you a moment then replies, “Just that you can play that piano in there beautifully.”  

She tilts her head towards the building. You relax a little. If Bucky had told her about your fantastic waterworks display CiCi at least was gonna keep it to herself.  CiCi digs into her work overalls and pulls out a slightly wrinkled bit of paper.

“Here,” She says as she slides it into your hand. “I wrote down the names of some bars and other places that have live piano music. It might be worth a shot. Don’t take no for an answer!”  

Cici cuffs your chin with her index finger and then heads off down the street. You unfold the paper and read some of the names.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try. I’ve got nothing left to lose.

You gulp a big breath and start walking into your day.

•••

The sun had just gone down and the city’s nightlife began to come alive. You determined to hit the bars and little clubs CiCi had suggested just as they opened. That had left you the day to roam, following up on applications and making inquiries for hiring opportunities.

Now you stand in front of a place called The Grandstand. The little bar is tucked in between two brownstones, inconspicuous save for the awning with its name covering the entrance. A flickering, neon sign proclaiming they were open sits in the front window.

Butterflies burst to life in the pit of your stomach. Maybe you should just turn back. After all, there had to be something else you could do. This anxiety was wreaking havoc with your system. You shake your head a little, almost in an effort to reset your line of thinking. No, your friends were right. It would be best to use what talents you had to find some gainful employment.

Rolling your shoulders, you straighten your spine. Before you can talk yourself out of it you yank on the door handle and step inside. The little bar is dimly lit. Old black and white photos lined the walls, 40’s memorabilia tacked up in between. Booths line the wall opposite the bar, with small tables set in the middle of it all. Towards the far back wall stands a small stage with band equipment set up, a baby grand piano wedged against the wall. It all combined to give the place a cozy, retro feel, albeit a little cramped.

Though the place had just opened it was fairly populated with patrons. A few waitresses milled

Between the tables and bar, serving their customers. A young man with unkempt blonde hair stocked and cleaned the bar, periodically pausing to serve drinks. There seemed to be something off with the environment, though you couldn’t really pinpoint it yet.

You timidly meander through the tables towards the man. Once you reach the counter you attempt to get his attention.

“Umm… e-excuse me…” your voice trails off into a whisper, your confidence flagging.

The man continues working, oblivious to your efforts at conversation. You try again, imbuing more strength into your words.

“Excuse me?” 

The man pauses, turning a questioning glance behind him. He realizes you’re speaking to him and turns around fully.

“I’m sorry ma’am, can I help you?” He asks.

You nod.

“Yes, I was hoping I could speak to a manager or owner if they’re around?” You force yourself to stay still instead of fidgeting under his scrutiny.

His stare turns wary, unsure if you’re there to complain and cause trouble. He shrugs after a moment and gestures towards the stage.  

“The manager is over there.” He returns to his work.

Your eyes follow where he directed. There standing just against the stage stood a rather frazzled looking woman with medium, brown hair. She appeared to be having a heated conversation on the phone.

Moving closer, you stand against one of the tables near the stage waiting for her to finish with her call. You tried not to eavesdrop, you really did, but some things you just can’t help hearing.

“I swear to God, Michael! This is the third time you’ve left us without a pianist in two weeks! I know Marcus puts up with this and doesn’t care, but this is complete bullshit! How can we be a piano bar without someone to play the music?!” The woman hisses into the receiver.

That was when it dawned on you. The thing that seemed off about the environment. There was complete silence underneath the murmured conversations of the customers. No music. You suppose you should have figured that out when you noticed the stage.

The woman listens to someone on the other end before she scoffs and hangs up. She breathes out a suppressed scream and runs her fingers through her hair.

“P-pardon me.” You speak softly, stepping over to her.

She stiffens a moment before she straightens and swings around, pasting a smile to her face.  

“Oh hello! How may I help you?” She responds politely.

You take a breath and return her smile, hoping it doesn’t look too frightened.

“Yes… I, uh, was hoping to see if you were hiring? It sounded like you could use a piano player, I –“

The woman’s demeanor shifts; it wasn’t unkind, just more firm.

“I’m sorry, but we aren’t currently hiring for any positions, and unfortunately our owner, Marcus, doesn’t like for patrons to play the instruments.” She smiles apologetically and walks away, leaving you a little flustered.  

You stand alone, feeling slightly embarrassed and at a loss for what to do. You look up and watch the other customers. A few who had come in the same time you had were already leaving, clearly unimpressed with the experience. You turn back to the stage pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.  

Taking a surreptitious glance for the manager and other employees you’re relieved to find no one paying you any heed. CiCi’s words flit across your mind.

Don’t take no for an answer.

Quietly you move behind the piano taking a seat on the bench. In your mind you sift through your mental catalog for a good jazz piece you could remember.

You settle on a piece that starts slow and builds to a fun, uptempo beat. Gently plucking at the keys you play. Just like the night before the music swept you up again. This time, however, your heart felt lighter. Happier. You add a little more flare to the piece, playing around with the melody.

As you close the song you’re startled by a smattering of clapping from the patrons around the bar. You’d forgotten you were playing to anybody. You look up and see the manager gazing in your direction; her expression unreadable. You stand as she approaches, steeling your nerves for a confrontation.

The woman stops just short of the stage, resting her hand upon the piano. She looks away to the piano and then considers you again. She sighs.

“Look, I can’t offer you a position. Marcus has the last say when it comes to the musicians, so you’ll have to audition for him, but…” she sucks in a breath, holding it for a moment. She blows it out.

“Would you mind playing for us the rest of the evening, please? I have enough of an emergency fund to pay you for that. I’m desperate for a player.”

Your heart leapt. Nodding enthusiastically you begin to slide back under the piano. The manager gives you a relieved smile and goes back to work.

By closing time your fingers felt sore, unused to all the constant playing. You step down from the stage and head over to the bar. The manager sits upon a stool, looking over some paperwork as you approach. She looks up to you. Setting the papers down she swivels away and reaches out for your hand.

“Thank you got your help tonight, my name is Maggie.”

You shake her hand replying with, “I’m…Y/F/F/N.”

You’d been so content and happy you’d almost forgotten to use your borrowed name. Maggie paid you for the evening and the two of you made arrangements for you to come again tomorrow night to meet with Marcus.  

Back out on the street you hug your coat closer to you, breathing the cool fall air. Your blood hums through your veins and you feel like you could float away from the elation running through you.

The bus ride back to your street was almost unbearably long. You were itching to keep practicing to prepare for your meeting tomorrow. The bus pulled up to the curb and your feet flew out and down to your apartment building.

Once inside the building you turn the corner into the laundry room. You halt. Where the piano had stood was now just empty space. Apparently someone had finally come to claim the instrument.

Deflated you exit the room and make your way up to your apartment. As you enter the elevator a woman pushes passed you into the space. You ignore her and her rudeness, pressing the number three button next to the lit up four.

You reach your floor and get out, never once glancing at the rude woman. Trudging into your apartment, you flip on the switch and freeze.

There resting to the right of the living room window was the piano. You cautiously walk over. You examine it, running your fingers across the keys. A part of you was a little alarmed someone had been into your apartment, but the other part of you knew there would be only one person who knew what that piano meant to you and had the means of getting it into your place.

You spin on your heel and head back out the door. Running back to the elevator you go up another floor. As the elevator doors slide open you think you see a shadow dart around a corner. You hesitate, uncertain that you should continue.

Don’t be silly. No one is looking for you here. It must have just been a trick of the light.

You try to shrug it off and make your way to Bucky’s door. Sudden nerves burst into butterflies in your stomach as you knock on the wood. The door swings open. The moment Bucky comes into view your nerves kick into overdrive. As soon as he’s standing in the doorway you launch yourself at him, hugging him tightly.  

“Whoa! I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I gotta find out so I can do it again.” He chuckles as he returns the hug.

Your cheeks flame but you smile. Your hands fidget a little as you step back out of the embrace.

“You know what you did. Thank you.” You say shyly.

Bucky smirks a little and runs his metal fingers through his hair. His ears pink once again

You open your mouth to say more when suddenly a streak of blonde passes between you two. Bucky stumbles back stunned as a small blonde woman strikes him across the face.  

“I cannot believe you! You don’t return any of my calls then I find out you’re cheating on me with this little slut!” She whirls around to you.

You’d frozen in shock to the spot until she levels you with her glare. If looks could kill you were certain you would have dropped dead from the venom injected into her gaze. You backtrack towards the other end of the hallway as she prowls over to you. Certain she’s about to strike you as well you raise your arms to defend yourself.

You were sure you’d seen this girl before, back in the laundry room the day you’d assisted Bucky. What was her name? Rebecca?

Just as your back hits the hallway wall you see Bucky lunge for the woman. He wraps his flesh hand around her wrist and yanks her back. She stumbles back as Bucky maneuvers between you and her. Rebecca rights herself and fumes, a wide – eyed, disbelieving expression on her face.

“I cannot believe you’re defending her!”

“Dammit Rebecca, lay off! I have told you, we are not together. I’m sorry if you’re feelings are hurt but you knew from the start that this wasn’t anything!” Bucky shouts over her.

You can hear a few doors click open down the hall, some of the other tenants curious about the commotion. Bucky swears.

“Please Rebecca, go. You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

She scoffs, “I’m not the one who should be embarrassed! You’re the one who’s been stringing me along! And I am not leaving until you talk to me!”  

With that Rebecca stomps into Bucky’s apartment. He sighs heavily, turning around to face you.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently, his metal hand reaching up to wrap a loose strand of your hair around his index finger.

You nod, a little shaken, but you’d be lying if you said you’d never experienced that kind of jealous rage directed at you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Ar-are you gonna be okay?” You weakly gesture to his red, swollen cheek.

He chuckles bitterly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, doll. Unfortunately, I’ve gotten myself into these situations before. It doesn’t happen often but…” he sighs again before he looks up into your face. He shakes his head, his metal thumb rubbing softly against your cheekbone.  

He quickly ducks his head and plants a chaste kiss to your temple and releases your face and hair.

“Have a good night, Y/N.” Bucky says softly.

He walks to his door and pauses.

“And you’re welcome.” With that he goes into his apartment and closes the door.

You stand there a little numb and flustered. As the other doors begin to close you rush with your head down back to the elevator.

•••

After retreating back into your apartment, you ate and showered. The excitement of Rebecca’s outburst gone for the most part. Though occasionally you could hear a raised voice and things smashing around above your place.

A twinge of guilt twists in your gut.  

This must have been what he meant by “B-Day”…

You were fairly confident it had been you who’d let Rebecca into the building when you rushed home. Now she was in his place and he couldn’t even retreat to his backup apartment to hide from her craziness.

Another crash sounds followed by a dull thud. You wince, beginning to worry about Bucky. You wanted to go and check on him but you feared you’d only make it worse. You weren’t afraid of Rebecca; you’d been around delusional women like her enough these past couple years to feel sorry for them rather than threatened. They always thought more of a relationship than what was really there. They hated you for your relationship with Colton. If they only knew how much you wanted to be out; what was really lurking behind closed doors…

You shake off the depressing thoughts. You didn’t want to dwell on that stuff anymore. You walk out to the living room and seat yourself at the piano. Testing the keys you run through some scales and practice pieces.

You continue practicing some of the songs you’d performed that night, trying to smooth the parts you’d struggled with playing. Growing bored with those songs you decide to play something else. Thinking through the pieces you used to play for your mother, you recall one that she’d been very fond of. It was one you hadn’t been able to play since her death, but given all you’d been through you were craving it’s calming, sweet melody.

Sitting up straight you place your fingers back on the keys and begin a slow rendition of “Dream a Little Dream of Me”.

It was a little rough but your fingers recalled the movements well enough. You let the final notes fade out. Out on the fire escape a faint clapping sounds. You start, leaning over to peer out the window. From that angle you can see a pair of feet resting on the stairs a floor up. Rising you cross over to the window and unlatch it. Sliding it up you poke your head out and look up. There Bucky sits, reclining against the brick of the building watching you with a sheepish grin. You cock your head to the side.

“What are you doing out here? Did you get Rebecca to leave?” You inquire.

Bucky lets out a huffed laugh.

“I wish it was that simple. This is self- imposed exile.” Another crash sounds from inside his space. He grimaces.

You guess with all your playing you’d drowned out the chaos that Rebecca was still creating.

“She’s refusing to leave. I guess her thinking is if she stays long enough I’ll change my mind and be with her… now she’s barricaded herself in the bedroom. So here I am. Hiding out until she gets tired of waiting.”  

At that moment a chilled wind blows through, you shiver in your thin sleep shirt. You glance up at Bucky again chewing on your bottom lip. He looks down on the street, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“That song was familiar. What’s it called?” He muses.

“Dream a Little Dream of Me.” You offer in reply.  

He hums, resting his head back onto the brick façade.

“Any chance I could persuade you to play it again for me?” He looks down on you with his best puppy dog eyes.  

Before now being asked to play made your skin crawl. It was another way he could humiliate and use you. Bucky, though, with all his exuberance and sweetness made you feel like your mother had. Special and important. You give a faint smile and wave him down, “Come on.”

You step back away from the window and hear the creak of the fire escape. You watch impressed as Bucky glides in, graceful as a cat, and plops down onto the recliner still stationed next to the window. He groans appreciatively, stretching against the seat as you close the window with a snap.

“This really wasn’t a ploy to get inside your apartment. I really did just want to hear you play that song again.” His words contradict his actions as he nestles into the recliner cushions.

You bite your bottom lip.

“It’s probably my fault that you had to sit out there anyway. I… think I may have let her in when I came home tonight.” You admit to him.

Bucky contemplates this a moment then shakes his head.

“No, this is really my fault. Cees has warned me and I knew better… perhaps it’s just what I deserve.” The last part he says so quietly you don’t think he meant for you to hear it.

You puzzle over that. You couldn’t imagine why a guy as nice and kind as Bucky would think he deserved a psychotic woman destroying his apartment and assaulting his person. However, you didn’t feel you had a right to pry. If he was going to allow you to hold onto your secrets, you could let him do the same. You change the subject.

“Yes well, how can my audience enjoy this masterpiece if they are freezing to death?” You inquire dramatically.

Bucky snorts and you smile wide. You liked being able to joke and tease with someone again. It helped you feel normal and sane. Like you never were the person you’d been in that dark place just a little over a month ago.

You take your seat on the piano bench again and play for him. When you finished Bucky claps and cheers while you bow and giggle. You retell your day and how you might have possibly found a job. His excitement over the news touches you. All Colton ever did was sneer and belittle you whenever you told him good things that happened in your day. As though your little successes meant nothing.

You become a little somber. You draw your hands back into your lap. Bucky notices and leans forward, trying to catch your eye.

“Hey, hey… Where’d you go, rabbit? Why’d you start to hole up on me?” He reaches his hand out to you but stops just short of touching you.  

His beautiful, blue eyes are full of concern. You meet his gaze, letting the cool softness of it wash over you like a balm.

You exhale slowly and offer a weary smile.

“I’m fine,” you yawn wide. “Oh, sorry, I guess I’m just exhausted from the day.”  

It wasn’t a total lie, you were feeling the strain of the long hours walking around the city.

“Ah,” Bucky nods in understanding, reclining back into the chair. “It is pretty late. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

Dipping your head in agreement you slide off the bench, walking towards the bedroom door. You pause, turning back to look at Bucky.

“What are you gonna do for the night?” You ask.

Bucky gestures to himself and the chair. “You’re looking at it.”

You give him a doubtful look, “Bucky… I’ve been in that chair and it is not comfortable enough to sit in for long, let alone sleep in.”  

He waves you off, remaining nonchalant.

“It’ll be okay Y/N, go sleep.”  

Hesitating for a second, you concede and walk into the bedroom. You close the door with a quiet, little snick. In your isolation you pace between the bed and doorway. You turn again and face the room’s little window, turning an idea over in your mind.  

It probably wasn’t a very smart idea, inviting a man to share a sleeping space with you. It usually led to you being forced to do things you’d rather forget. You didn’t have to do this; you could just let him sleep out there on that old recliner.

Except that you couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. The self – deprecation laced in his voice. It had made your heart ache for him. He was too gentle and friendly to feel he deserved to be treated like dirt.

You roll back your shoulders, resolved. Walking towards the bed you lean down and snatch up your sweater, throwing it on over your head. You crawl onto the mattress and begin arranging the pillows down the middle, creating a small barrier. Once you’re done you curl up on the side closest to the outer wall, pulling the covers tightly around you. All settled you call out for Bucky.

The door creaks open but you don’t look over. It’s silent for a long moment.

“What… are you doing?” Bucky asks, skeptical.

You glance over your shoulder at him, then nod your head to the empty side of the bed.

“I’m sharing.” You say matter-of-factly.

You lay back down, unable to maintain eye contact for fear of losing your nerve. Already your stomach was twisting in knots, afraid you might be misplacing your trust. You push the uncertainty down. While you have your internal fight with yourself, you feel the mattress dip as Bucky carefully sits on it.

“You do realize that… these pillows would do nothing if I really wanted to try something, right?”

You throw your head back to eye him warily, his comment making your heart jump in fear a little.

“Well then, you can go back to the recliner if you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” You tried to keep it light but you thought you heard a slight waver in your voice.

Bucky throws his hands up, bowing his head like a little schoolboy scolded.  

“No, no, no! I’ll be on my best behavior I promise. Cross my heart, doll.” He makes the gesture over his chest.

You stifle a giggle into the covers and settle back in, facing the wall. Bucky rustles around a bit more to get comfortable then all is still. After a minute or two you hear him begin to hum lightly the melody of your mother’s song. Your muscles ease and soon sleep pulls you under as the last lyric flits through your mind.

Dream a little dream of me...

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BBNB TAGLIST:

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[pedrospookie]

Satin Slippers Part 1 - Allegro

okay so this is my first ever fan fic that i have posted! please let me know if you like it, if you want more, or if you have suggestions as to how i can improve!

Stark!Reader x High School!Peter Parker

Fluff-ish (I promise to get better at it!)

word count: 3178

You had always been such a daddy’s girl. Tony raised you all on his own, with some help from his dear mother, Maria. It was as if you were Tony’s shadow, constantly following him into the lab to work on parts for suits. If you were lucky, he’d let you help weld together the metals, after he put you in safety goggles, of course. You grew up listening to Black Sabbath, ACDC, Metallica and wearing converse while all the other little girls at school wore sparkly flats. To be honest, you didn’t care. Your dad always made you feel like the most important girl in the world, regardless if you had grease smeared across your cheek or sweaty hands from working in the shop.

As much as you cherished this time with your dad, you always looked forward to seeing your grandmother. She had fostered a love for the arts that was rooted as deep as your love for mechanics. She would take you to see the Nutcracker every year at The Metropolitan and enrolled you in piano lessons. This created an outlet of expression that you could share with her. This special bond between you and Maria, felt like the deepest, most sincere secret in the whole world, even though everyone knew about it.

The day she passed away, you had locked yourself in your room and listened to Chopin polonaises and waltzes until you fell asleep. Tony knew it was your way of coping with this impactful loss. He too felt comforted hearing the soft lull of Chopin fill the halls in the tower. Part of him wished that he had been able to create a bond with her the way she had with you.

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

“Hey Y/N!” your freckled friend, Annabelle, called. She plopped her anagrammed gym bag beside yours on the bench in the changeroom.

“Your jumps are getting so good! I can’t believe how you’re able to leap up with such force!” she exclaims sitting down on the wooden bench to untie her point shoes.

“Well, I just wish I looked half as graceful as you, Annie.” You joke back, bending down to untie your satin slippers. Annabelle was a tall girl with a slender frame, who lived and breathed ballet, way more than you ever did.

“Oh, you will! Practice makes perfect, you know!” She beams as she puts her blush coloured point shoes into her quilted gym bag and zips up her fleece sweater. “Well, I will see you next class. Have a good night!” Annabelle chimes as tosses her bag over her shoulder and skips out of the room.  

A large sigh escapes your mouth. Finally, you we’re able to go home and eat. As much as you loved dance, you were always starving after since you always had to rush from school to dance. A granola bar and chocolate milk on the subway barely cut it after a taxing class. You we’re all preparing for the spring recital where you were going to perform Chopin’s Les Sylphides.  Quickly switching your baby pink point shoes for some dingy, beat up converse, you wiggled into some boyfriend jeans and marched out the door ready to powerwalk back to the tower.

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

As the elevator doors slowly opened, you could smell the sweet scent of dinner. You had no idea who could be cooking, but it didn’t matter, if there was food waiting for you, you were happy.

“Hey Y/N! You hungry?” Steve’s voice calls from the kitchen. ‘Oh, looks like Dad has company tonight’, you thought to yourself. You enjoyed having the Avengers over. The company made the tower less quiet at night, especially if dad was away for business or busy in the shop while you were cooped up doing homework.

“Hey Steve, I’m starvin’ Marvin!” You smile, resting your dance bag on the couch as you walk into the kitchen. You noticed Peter sitting at the high top doing some type of math homework that you were grateful not to have. You give him a small wave and a smile that causes the boy to blush and give an incredibly enthusiastic smile.

“He-hey Y/N!” the boy stutters. He was so incredibly cute when he was embarrassed.

Peter was in the majority of your classes, but you had decided to take functions rather than algebra and calculus, leaving you to your own devices when it came to studying. Besides Ned, you were the only other student at the school who knew he was Spider-Man. Peter while shy, was always so kind. He would always be the first to help you with your homework even though you knew your dad would be able to help. You didn’t mind though, you secretly enjoyed spending that alone time with Peter. It’s as if knowing he is Spider-Man has created an intimate bond between the two of you. Part of you felt that it was more than a bond…you liked Peter, a lot, but you knew that telling him could cause a lot of tension especially in the tower and it was a huge problem when it came to missions and your safety. At least that’s what you assume your dad would tell you, as that was the exact reason your mother left him.

“Fantastic! I’ve made homemade mac and cheese that will be out of the oven in 5 minutes.” Steve replies, closing the oven after checking the casserole. He placed the red and blue checkered mitts on the counter before leaning over and giving you a hug.

“How was your dance class?” He asks, you could see Peter perk up when Steve asked you the question. Peter had no idea that you danced, let alone what genre.

Taking out the bobby pins and unraveling your hair from the mandatory top knot, you smile. Steve always cared about you and your interests. He has come to ever show and seems to truly enjoy everything you have to say about your passions.

“Steve, it was fantastic! Not to brag, but we we’re practicing jumps to see who will have a small solo for our spring recital, and I have to say…I kicked major ass! I was able to get so much air with full leg extension! Our ballet mistress was incredibly impressed. The music was just so inspiring that I let my body feel it, and it worked!” You beamed telling Steve your incredible news. You could see the pride in Steve’s eyes and he grinned at you with the most admirable look in his eyes. Peter just stared at you, completely mesmerized by your story.

“Of course, you did! You’re a superstar, kiddo!” A voice chimes from the door frame. Unbeknownst to you, your dad had walked in behind you, mid-conversation, and overheard the entire thing.

Out of pure love, he gives you a tight bear hug and kisses your cheek.

“You know Tony, she looks more and more like your mother every day.” Steve points out, patting the hair on the top of your head.

“Well, there could be uglier people that I could resemble.” You joke, elbowing Steve as he puts the oven mitts back on.

Peter nearly choked on the water he was drinking when he heard what you said. He had no clue as to what Mr. Stark’s mother looked like, but if she looked anything like Y/N, she must have been simply beautiful.

“Parker! Help me set the table!” Tony asks, waving a handful of forks and knives at the boy, pulling him out of his trance.

“Oh-uh, yeah, sorry Mr. Stark!” He mumbles, scurrying off the bar stool to grab a stack of plates. He could feel his cheeks grow warm every time he looked at you. Your H/C hair cascading down the nape of your neck looked so effortlessly beautiful, paired with your vibrant smile.

“Okay, boys and girls! Bon appetit!” Tony chimes, placing the casserole dish filled with golden mac and cheese in the center of the table. The smell dragged the rest of the Avengers from their hiding spaces to the table.

Once dinner had settled, Bruce, Peter and your dad left to work in the shop, while Natasha and Steve read in the parlor. Thor was on clean up duty and was struggling to scrape the casserole dish clean. Hearing his constant grunting and cursing under his breath, you took over.

“You know Thor, sometimes it’s better to let it soak a little.” You giggle, watching the God get frustrated over some melted cheese.

You could see the look of confusion on his face as you took the scrub brush out of his hands. Clearly the God has never had to wash the dishes before.

“It’s when you leave it in the sink filled with warm and soapy water, it helps to get all the crunchy bits off.”

“Ah! Like a warm bath!” Thor chimes, sounding so proud of himself.

“Yes, Thor. Like a warm bath!” You chuckle to yourself, seeing Steve raise an eyebrow as a smirk grew across his face.

“Natasha, I’m going to go work on some homework. Could you help Thor with this in 20 minutes?” You beg, Nat sighs as she looks up from her book.

“Only if Rogers can be on back up if Thor starts breaking mugs again.” Her dark eyes glare at Thor as a small smile forms on her lips.

“Go study, Y/N, we’ve got this.” Steve laughs as he lowers his newspaper just enough to look over it at you.

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

You walk down the hall to your bedroom, passing by walls of photos filled with memories. There was something so comforting about reaching your room after a long day and shutting the door. It was as if it signified the long day finally being over.

Collapsing onto your bed, you flip open your lap top and run a hand through your tangled hair. ‘Hmm, what would pair nicely with my reading on World War 2 and Propaganda Tactics?’ you think to yourself as you scroll through your iTunes library. You settle on Debussy’s Arabesque No.1. As the music starts to fill your room, you light a couple of candles and crack open your thick history textbook.

Meanwhile, in the lab….

Bruce and Tony were hard at work patching up Peter’s spider suit as it had been practically demolished after their last mission.

Sitting on a stool, Peter watched the two men hard at work. He was just there for input.

“So, uh, Mr. Stark? H-how long has Y/N been dancing?” Peter asks quietly, a blush raising to his cheeks at the mention of your name.

Tony’s head perks up from the workbench and looked right at Peter. To him, it felt as if Mr. Stark was peering into his soul.

“Since she was small…Why?” Tony asks hesitantly, giving the boy a strange look.

“No reason…” Peter’s voice drifts off as he stares at the ground, feeling stupid for bringing it up.

“You know kid, you could just ask her yourself if you have questions.” Tony mentions as he attempts to fix a circuit on Peter’s suit. “Bruce, could you bring that light a bit closer?”

“Peter, she won’t bite your head off. She’s a sweet girl, just go talk to her.” Bruce says calmly as he adjusts the angle that he is holding the light to help Tony.

“Uh—No, no it’s okay...” Peter peeps shyly. His head felt like it was running in circles. He had talked to you before, he talks to you all the time when it comes to school work or at lunch in the cafeteria. But for some reason this felt so different, like a pill that was impossible to swallow. Peter could feel his cheeks getting hot and his palms starting to sweat.

“Well, are you just going to sit there, Parker? Or are you going to finally go make a move on my daughter?” Tony says nonchalantly, sighing as he zaps the circuit panel in the chest piece of Peter’s suit.

“What!?” Peter blurts, shocked at Mr. Starks quick words. Had Peter been that obvious?

Tony puts his tools down on the workbench and crosses his arms, giving Peter what felt to be a deadly glare.

“Kid, you sit here almost every night like a dog with its tail between its legs. All you do is ask questions about her-“

“and your face turns bright red.” Bruce adds, a gentle smile on his face, “Just go talk to her.”

“I bet she’s in her room. It’s down the hall from the kitchen, just don’t touch any of the sculptures. Pepper will have a bird if she sees finger prints.” Tony smirks walking over to give Peter a pat on the back.

“Speaking of, where is Pepper?” Bruce asks as Peter walks slowly and nervously out of the lab.

“Dubai for work!” Tony’s voice rang as Peter walked to the elevator.

With a deep sigh and the feeling that his heart was about to explode, the elevator doors closed and Peter thought he might die.

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

 After an hour or so passes by, you ask yourself what the point of reading these chapters are when you have a living war relic in your living room. Giving up, you peel off your sweaty dance clothes and opt to have a relaxing shower.

Scrubbing the stress of the day away, music fills the speakers in your ensuite bathroom. You hum along happily as you wash your hair and rub your achy shoulders.

Just as you step out of the bathroom you hear a soft knock at the door.

“One second!” You call, as you hurry to throw on some comfortable clothing. You decide on a pair of grey joggers, a black sports bra and one of your dad’s zip up Black Sabbath hoodies.

“Come in!” You chime as you flip your head upside down to wrap your wet hair in a towel. As you come up, you see a bashful Peter Parker standing in the door.

“oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were chang-showering, I-I can leave?” Peter panics as he lowers his gaze, his face slowly turning a bright shade of red.

“It’s okay, Pete. I’m all done anyway…what’s up?” You half smile, wrapping the sweater shut. You didn’t have the time to zip it up as you thought it might have been Natasha. She usually was the only person, other than Pepper, who would come into your room. You walk quickly to the edge of the bed and plop down. You pat the spot beside you to silently ask Peter to join you.

“Uhm, well your dad said you’d be in here and that I should ask you my questions instead of him…” Peter’s voice trails off, as his glace searches around the room, his heart pounding a mile a minute.

“Uhm…Yeah okay! What questions do you have? Just shoot!” You smile, trying to relieve the tension. There was something so charming about the way Peter got so uncomfortable. You knew it was because he was trying to be gentleman like and non-invasive, which was so incredibly endearing to you. You could feel a knot grow in your stomach being so close to the boy.

His warm brown eyes looked right at you and searched your face momentarily, you wondered what he could be looking at. You had never been able to look at him the closely before, his brown eyes had flecks of gold and orange in them.

Peter could see what Steve meant. He took a moment to look at the photo of Maria hung in the hallway on the way to your room. You shared the same eyes, nose and lips as her. The same charming and dazzling smile that could take your breath away. Steve had mentioned to him, one time, that you know you’re in love when someone can take your breath away from just one look and smile.

“Earth to Peter?” You laugh awkwardly as you wave a hand in front of his face, trying to get rid of the butterflies in your own stomach.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Y/N!” He says, embarrassed for day dreaming. “I was wondering what type of dance you do? And how long you’ve been dancing? You didn’t specify earlier but maybe I shouldn’t have been listening-”

“Well, I have done jazz, tap, modern, lyrical and folk, but my one true love is ballet.” You smile, interrupting the rambling boy, scooting closer to him on the bed. “And I’ve been dancing since I was three.” You add, grabbing Peter’s hand. Peter gave you a surprised look.

“Wow! You must be like, really good.” He smiles. You had never noticed the freckles that ran across the bridge of his nose until now.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m not nearly as serious as some people. But I enjoy it and it is something that I shared with my grandma. It will always be something that I cherish deeply…but it hasn’t been the same since she passed.” You sigh, looking down at your feet.

Peter could sense the sadness that slowly filled you. He presses up against you and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I understand that.” He inhales sharply. “Uncle Ben and I loved everything Star Wars. We could binge watch them time after time, and every morning he would greet me with a line from one of the movies. I still love everything Star Wars…but it’s not the same. It feels kind of empty. May does try to say a line to me in the mornings, but she usually butchers it.” He chuckles softly, remembering the time she said for him to “take the high ground” to school.

You look up to Peter, his sad, brown eyes now looking at his calloused hands that are bunched up in yours.

“That exactly the feeling.” You say as you sit up and look at Peter with tears in your eyes, feeling as if someone finally understands how you feel.

“Uh, how about we change the subject?” He half-smiles as he tucks a strand of hair back into your towel wrap.  “When do you have your next show?” Peter asks, a full smile forming on his face.

“In a couple of weeks actually. We’re putting on Chopin’s Les Sylphides.” You bite your lip as you wipe the tears from your eyes.

“Uhm, can-would people be able to come see that?” Peter asks shyly, his big brown doe eyes looking right at you.

“Of course! Steve comes to every single one.” You smile at the thought of having Peter there. This idea makes your heart leap in your chest.

Peter’s face lights up at the thought of getting to see you perform. “Cool!” Peter says a little too enthusiastically, “So I could come see you?” he asks so innocently.

“I’d love it if you came, Peter.” You smile, grabbing his hand again.  The boy looks right at you, his free hand coming up and touching your cheek. His soft fingers tracing the growing blush that fills your cheeks.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

🎶 You've been playin' hard to get with me all night, we both know exactly what you want right 🎶

a/n: y’all hoES ARE LUCKY THIS SOUNDED APPROPRIATE AS A PART TWO TO ALL I WANNA DO HMPH

this is very long bc i decided to add in this one request i was also not aware of until recently so there IS a keep reading line, but once again, if it doesn’t show up on your app, I’m sorry, that’s not my fault anymore.

Shall we go to hell?

-

Never in your wildest dreams did you think that the cute, chubby kid back in elementary had grown up to be such a fucking god--more so have his head between your legs and abuse the fuck out of your clit piercing.

“Oh my god.” You gasp out when you feel Jaehyun suck your piercing back into his mouth for the nth time since he’s gone down on you, disturbing the bundle of nerves yet again and sending spikes of pleasure through your system.

He chuckles, dragging his tongue flat against your entrance. “You’re probably the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.” Two of his fingers enter you, curling inside of you as he slowly pulls them out.

You buck your hips against his fingers, making him pull back to enjoy the show of you fucking yourself.

“Look at you,” Jaehyun smirks, “Enjoying yourself?” He grounds his palm against your clit and moves his digits in and out of you. “You’re so wet, can you hear that?”

You do and you never thought the squelching sound of Jaehyun’s--or anyone’s--fingers pumping into you would turn you on so much. Your hands have gripped the sheets by your hips as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

Jaehyun must have known you were close, maybe by how you were holding your breath or how your walls are tightening around his fingers, so he ducks his head back down, assaulting your clit once more to push you over the edge while adding a third finger.

You moan out loud; and you swear you sound like a pornstar. Your hands grab onto his hair, weakly trying to pull him away when the knot in your stomach unravels in a second.

He continues to move his fingers inside of you, riding your high out and slurping up your release.

As you catch your breath, Jaehyun sits up and admires his work; your pussy bright pink and dripping. You whimper when he spreads out your folds and the cold air of the room tickles you.

You push the hair that had stuck on your sweaty face away and cover your eyes with an arm, “I never came so quickly from oral before.” You confess with a breathy chuckle, “How many girls did you practice that mouth on?”

“It’s all I’ve ever done.” He admits, making you look at him, “I mean, I’ve had sex--like twice, but most girls I’ve been with are the type to wait until marriage, so the most I’ve done with my exes are oral.”

“Well, don’t worry it paid off.” You gesture for him to come down and when he does, you lick your release on his chin that he didn’t bother wiping away.

“Holy shit.” He breathes, bringing his hands up to your face to hold you still as he kisses you, tongue invading your mouth so you could taste yourself on him.

You moan at the salty sweet taste; sliding your arms over his torso and being reminded he is still fully clothed.

Jaehyun’s lips leave yours and trail down your jaw and neck. His hands find your boobs, roughly kneading them into his palm.

“S-so the time you had sex--” You panted, combing your fingers through his hair.

“--sucked. Both instances were boring because she only wanted to do missionary.” He moves his mouth over one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it.

You relax back against the pillow and looked up at the ceiling, savoring the feeling of his warm, wet mouth over your breasts. How can someone not submit themselves to Jaehyun if they knew what he could do? How good his hands and mouth feel? Your pussy involuntarily clenches at the thought of his dick.

“Hey,” You sighed, biting your lip when he sucks a little too hard on your boob that’s sure to leave a mark. “I had my way with you for body shots, why don’t you have your way with me in bed?”

The vibration from his chuckle tickles you a little, “Are you sure about that? I’ve had some pretty wild fantasies.”

“Did you think about them with me?” You whisper, waiting for his reaction.

His flushed cheeks and bobbing Adam's apple had you grinning in a burst of pride and elation. Pushing yourself up, you reach for his shirt and start to unbutton them for him.

“How did you imagine me, Jae? Did I spread my legs for you?” You stretched your legs out for him, placing them over his thighs and displaying your piercing in full view at him.

Jaehyun’s mouth parts, suddenly feeling parched.

“Did I straddle your hips?” In one swift movement, you did as you had suggested. You pushed his dress shirt off, licking your lips at the sight of his perfect skin beneath, and started to push yourself up against him, “Did I ride you like this?”

You feel his sigh on your chest before his hands travel up your waist to play with them again after he throws his shirt away. Your own hands trace over his pectoral muscles down to his abdomen, gently scratching at the firm skin.

“Tell me, Jae.” You whine, throwing your head back when his lips start to kiss your neck. “Was I on all fours while you take me from behind--”

“Yes.” Jaehyun chokes on his reply, sounding desperate when you’ve hit jackpot.

“Yes?” You push him away, amused. He nods and you smirk, “Then show me.”

He waits a second, staring at you with such intensity that makes you regret your words. But then he’s pushed you off, leaving you on your back as you watch him work to get his pants off. He doesn’t break eye contact for one second and in the back of your mind, you remember seeing his photos on social media; the ridiculous DP blasts for org events or some confessional post on an anonymous-based group that fawn over him. None of those pictures looked like the boy in front of you; eyes piercing, dark and hooded with lust.

Once his pants and boxers are pushed down and off his long legs, his cock bobs up, standing fully erect and red at the tip.

“Turn over.” He growls and you respond a little late, his hands shoving you to get on your knees and pushing your upper body against the bed. He exhales harshly as his eyes glazes over your bottom, your pussy starting to glisten again in anticipation.

You yelp in surprise when his palm smacks the side of your ass, the stinging sensation making you clench your nether regions. “Shit, what happened to being the university’s nicest?”

He spanks you again, this time on the other side. “I never claimed to be nice.”

You inhale deeply when you feel the tip of his cock teasing your entrance; running the head through your folds and brushing ever so slightly against your piercing, making you flinch.

“My ex didn’t even let me have sex with her unless I had a condom on.” Jaehyun grumbles, stroking his cock with the head just barely entering you.

He turns to everyone reading this, “But that doesn’t mean you should go sleeping around without a condom, okay? Stay protected, kids. This is only fiction.”

Slowly, he penetrates you, filling you up until his cock is fully sheathed inside you. He groans out a curse when you tighten around him, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. “That feels so good, fuck.”

He gradually starts to thrust, pulling out with the tip still inside before easing back in. He doesn’t pick up his pace until you whimper, sticking your bottom out a little more. The slight shift in position has made all the difference because it gives Jaehyun deeper access and his cock is already hitting the sweet spot within you.

His hips snap into yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the creaks of the bed as it thumped on the adjacent wall.

You’re a moaning mess, hiding your face into the pillow while grasping at it, desperate to hold something to anchor yourself from Jaehyun’s thrusts. You find yourself shaking at a sudden release, legs quivering as they struggled to hold your weight up if not for Jaehyun’s hold on you.

“You feel fucking amazing.” He drives his cock into your sopping cunt with more force than before that has you screaming into the pillow until your throat felt raw.

All of a sudden, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey! Keep it down, would ya? You’re not the only people in the house.”

You didn’t hear them clearly and continued to bawl out moans.

“Hey! I said keep it down or I’ll have the guys bring the door down and escort you out!”

A guttural sound comes from Jaehyun when at the threat made against the two of you. He’s not going to let anyone disturb him just because you couldn’t shut up. He spots your undies on the bed, snatching them up and balling in his fists while he forces you to move your head to the side. He stuffs them into your mouth, effectively shutting you up as you gag on your own underwear.

There was a sarcastic ‘thank you’ outside the door but Jaehyun ignores it, pinning your shoulders down as he uses it to anchor his weight over you.

“Are you that much of a slut that you can’t keep your voice down? Huh? Do you just want everyone to know you’re being fucked right now?”

You groan, tears springing from your eyes when you feel another orgasm building up.

“I’m so close, [Y/N]. So close.” Jaehyun grunts, “Come for me one more time.”

He snakes one hand down to toy with your piercing and this is where you lose it; thrashing against him when his fingers teasingly tug at the metal ball. You clutch onto the sheets with one hand and grab his wrist with the other, trying to stop him but by the time he lets you stop him, you’re climaxing for the third time tonight. You feel warm liquid spurting out of you, coating your inner thighs and soaking the bed below you.

The realization that he had made you squirt had triggered his own release: Jaehyun pulls out, shooting his cum far enough that you can feel bits of it landing on your shoulder and the space by your eyes on the pillow.

For almost a minute, the room is silent save for the sound of you and Jaehyun catching your breaths. You slump down on the bed, taking your makeshift gag out of your mouth and moving your jaw around.

“You okay?” You hear Jaehyun above you, his body still hovering over your frame.

You twist around despite your body screaming at you not to and lazily grin at him, hands sliding up his sweaty chest and circling around his shoulders. You pull him down until he’s flush against your body, his head resting on the junction of your shoulder and neck.

“Yeah.” You sigh, playing with his hair. “That was amazing. I’ve never squirted before.”

“You’re welcome.” Jaehyun chuckles and you enjoy the vibration of his bare chest against yours. “I feel bad for whoever sleeps here, though. We should probably remove the sheets as a warning or something.”

You snort, “Well, the university’s nicest is back.”

He sits up, kneeling back on his knees.

Your eyes instantly fall down to his dick, “Are you still hard?!”

He shrugs, “Not completely. Don’t worry, I know you’re probably sore.”

“If you hadn’t gagged me, I would suck you dry.” You let your sights linger on his face. “Hey, scoot up here.”

“Doesn’t your jaw hurt?” The worried tone in his voice warms your heart.

“It does, but I have other ways.”

When he climbs up higher your body, now straddling your waist, his cock perfectly sits between your breasts.

You push them together, using them to stroke him. “How does that feel?”

Jaehyun puts his hands on the headboard above your head. “Oh, shit, that feels nice.”

“Yeah?” You bite back a smile when you see him lazily thrusting with his eyebrows bunched up.

It only takes a few more minutes with soft urging from you for him to ejaculate the remaining semen he has to offer. You strain your neck to catch his release with your tongue, lapping the salty sweet substance up.

“God damn, [Y/N].” Jaehyun drawls, pushing his hair back with a hand.

“You’re oddly sweet. Every other guy I’ve blowed are salty as fuck.”

He laughs, “I like eating fruit? I eat two fruit cups from Starbucks everyday.”

“You can get two bowls of fruit at the salad bar I go to for half the price of two Starbucks fruit cups, Jae. Stop supporting those capitalists.”

“Show me where and I’ll treat you a bowl.” He winks, making you giggle. He moves to get off of you, collecting his clothes off the floor and starts dressing.

You do the same, slipping your nightie back over your body and throwing your denim jacket on. You take your panties and slip it into Jaehyun’s back pocket. “For you.”

He blushes, the color rising from his cheeks to the tips of his ear.  It was hard to believe he was pounding into you minute ago, slapping your ass, and gagging you with your own underwear.

You continue to watch him put on his clothes, thinking about how people will react when they find out that their golden boy is just another name on your list of fucks. You’ll probably receive some hate messages from troll accounts, but it’s nothing you’ve dealt with before. As Jaehyun buttons up his shirt, you start to feel empty: just another lay.

You stand up, sparing a glance at the bed with the mess you and Jaehyun made. “Oh, wow, did I squirt out that much?” Your eyes widened at the huge wet spot evident on the blue sheets.

“Let’s just strip the sheets off and hope the owner isn’t waiting outside.” Jaehyun starts to pull off the fitted sheets from the foot side of the mattress.

You deal with the other end, reaching across the width of the bed to untuck the sheets. Your eyes catch something glint from the light and you gasp.

“How hard did you come for you to shoot your load on the wall?!”

He looks to where you’re pointing, face starting to turn beet red when he realizes what you were talking about. “Well,” He clears his throat, “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

After stripping the sheets off and throwing them with the soiled pillow on the ground, you and Jaehyun make your way out the door.

Before you can open the door, he stops you.

You shoot him a questioning cock of your brow.

“Hey, I gotta ask--since we’ve been clearing up rumors earlier.” He licks his lips, “Why don’t you do relationships?”

Your lips quirk upwards, “It’s not that I don’t do relationships. Guys only want one thing from me, as you had just experienced.” You gesture to the bed before trying to open the door again.

“Wait, but what if,” He hesitates just a second more, “What if I want more?”

Seeing that you were clearly taken aback from his words, he starts explaining, “I meant what I said earlier about liking you since we were kids. I just didn’t know what your type was and if you even liked me back. I think it sucks that guys don’t even bother trying to date you, I mean, you’re beautiful and funny--I don’t get why you’re barely passing when I clearly remember you being top of the class in elementary.”

You fail at trying to smile, “No one’s trying to set me straight, I guess? It’s always party here and party there. I’m only reminded to study when there aren’t parties and those are days before midterms and finals.”

“Well,” Jaehyun says a little exasperatedly, “I can be that guy for you. We can have study dates on school nights and I’ll take you partying during the weekends. We can... we can do anything you want--together, you know? As in, like a couple--if you’re open to the idea--”

“Really?” You stare up at him, amused at how he’s stumbling over his words. “Anything I want? Like, candlelit dinners, walks on the beach, sex in the library, and all that jazz?”

“Yes! Anythi--wait, did you say sex in the library?”

You burst out laughing at his reaction as you nod, “It’ll be nice to relieve some stress after we study, no?”

“I guess...” He pauses, “We?” Jaehyun is smiling at you with both famous dimples ever present on each cheek.

“Yes, ‘we’. Who else?” You reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his, “Now, that salad bar I was talking about is open 24/7 and I would like to redeem that fruit bowl offer.”

He squeezes your hand back, opening the door for you. “After you, then.”

-

a/n: hit me up when u wanna reserve a spot in hell

[october31st1981]

Baby, I’m Trying

Originally written for Jily Secret Santa 2016 for the prompt “modern single parent AU.” I realized I never posted this fic to my own blog, so here it is.

She ought to know by now not to try to surprise James.

When they were twelve, she’d jumped out of a cupboard, intent on frightening James to get him back for unraveling the hem of her friend’s already threadbare uniform. He’d been so startled that he’d slammed the cupboard shut and Lily ended up with a bloody nose.

On his eighteenth birthday, she’d made the mistake of trying to throw him a party without telling him. She had half their year assembled in his house when he called to cancel their afternoon plans because his mother was taking him to Belgium.

Over the years, it’s become clear that James is far better at providing surprises than receiving them.

It’s probably foolish of her to think that this time will be different. But she’s just gotten home after studying in France during her summer and fall terms, and the only person that Lily wants to see is James Potter. They wrote letters, certainly, and talked on the phone, but it doesn’t compare to seeing him gaze at her with a warm smile or a smarmy grin from right in front of her face. He’d joked about her meeting someone while in France, but part of her thinks it was true, because she’s never been so eager to come home in her life.

And she’s missed him, missed all her boys, really. So she stands outside James’s and Sirius’s flat, knocking on their door with a grin on her face.

Sirius pulls open the door, wearing what looks like a bib and holding a plush toy in his hands. “Moony, if that’s you, you better have brought nappies—Evans!” His face breaks out into a broad grin.

Careful to avoid the mess on his bib, Lily steps into Sirius’s arms. “I’m back,” she says. “Dare I ask about the nappies?”

The smile on Sirius’s face dims. “Maybe I should let James explain.”

She releases Sirius, stepping past him into the flat. The room looks messier than usual, with an assortment of items she can’t begin to explain scattered on the floor. “Where is he? I know I should’ve called, but I thought it’d be a nice surprise this way.”

“Is that Lupin? Tell him it’s Code Yellow, false alarm,” James’s voice calls as he enters the room.

Lily’s heart speeds up a bit as he comes into view. His hair is longer, and he’s got a smudge of what looks like carrot on his cheek, but he’s still the same. She is so caught up in staring at his face that it takes her a moment to realize that he’s holding something. Someone, in fact. A baby, no more than six months old, clinging to him firmly.

Lily blinks, looking down at the child. She thinks the baby blinks back. “Are you… babysitting?” she asks. She knows Alice and Frank Longbottom had their baby not all that long ago, but it seems a bit odd that they would choose James to mind their son, considering he’s an only child and has probably never held a baby in his life.

“Er, no,” James says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He wears an expression not dissimilar to the one he wore in Year 12 when he told he’d accidentally melted his Head Boy badge. “This is Harry. He’s… Well, he’s mine.”

Surprise, Lily thinks, feeling a little light-headed.

“Yours,” she repeats slowly.

“Mine,” he says, nodding. As if pleased by this announcement, the boy in James’s arms reaches out to him, using an impossibly tiny hand to grab at his glasses. James runs a placating hand over the baby’s hair.

Lily can’t stop staring. “You weren’t pregnant when I left.”

Sirius, who hasn’t spoken since James entered the room, scowls and mutters, “Lucy.”

Suddenly, Lily understands. When they’d been in secondary school, James had dated Lucinda Talkalot, whom he knew from his football league. Lily hadn’t liked her. Mary said it was because she’d fancied James something awful back then, but in truth, Lily had doubts about the girl. She wasn’t good at keeping friends, and to James, loyalty was more important than anything. At least, it had been. By the fond look James is giving the baby, Lily thinks that everything else in James’s life might be suddenly outranked.

“You and Lucy…” Lily trails off, looking at James significantly.

“At that Halloween party last year,” he confirms.

Her eyes drift to the baby again. Harry. He has a shock of black hair on top of his head, and his eyes are like James’s, but brighter. Hazel. Still, she feels compelled to ask. “And you’re sure?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“We talked on the phone,” Lily says weakly. She thinks of all the times where he’d hesitated in a conversation, saying he’d explain later. She supposes now is later. “You couldn’t have mentioned a baby?”

Shifting Harry to his other hip, James offers a one-armed shrug. “It seemed like in-person kind of news.”

There’s not much she can say to that. So instead, she asks, “Can I hold him?”

James looks taken aback, but he nods, approaching her slowly. “Mind his hands,” he says, placing the baby in her arms. “He likes to grab.”

And sure enough, as soon as the baby is in her arms, his tiny fists are wrapped up in her long auburn hair. Harry giggles, and Lily can see why James looks at this kid with such affection in his eyes.

Lily gives him her widest smile. “Hi, Harry.”

Over the next few weeks, the story tumbles out of the boys in pieces. How Lucy hadn’t told James about the pregnancy until Harry was already several weeks old. How she’d decided to give him up in the hopes of giving him a better life, but had hesitated at the thought of James, and shown up with the baby at his doorstep. How that day had been the last they’d seen her.

“Are you mad at Lucy?” she asks James one evening as they sit on the floor of his living room. She presses a stuffed lion against Harry’s nose, who garbles delightedly back at her.

James pauses, and then shakes his head. “Not for giving me Harry,” he says quietly. “For not telling me the first place, maybe, but I’d rather have him than not.”

“I suppose I never imagined you’d be a dad this young.” She’s only two months older than James, and she’s barely creeping up on twenty-one.

James looks at Harry. “I always sort of reckoned that when I did have a kid, I’d be married. Something for the long run, y’know.”

Lily can see it. James, in a cottage bustling with children, committed to one person for the rest of his life. He’d be happy like that. “You will be,” she says decidedly. “Just have to adjust the order.”

He raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Are you offering, Evans?”

She pulls Harry into her lap, resting her chin on the top of his head. “Sorry, Potter. My heart already belongs to someone else.”

James sighs wistfully. “Thrown over for a younger man.” He strokes a hand gently on his son’s face. “My fault for making you so handsome.”

“Thank goodness Harry has a father who’ll teach him modesty,” says Remus from the entryway. Sirius’s return from classes is flagged by the arrival of both Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

“That’s what you’re for, Moony.” James grins. “When you’re finished that teaching degree, I fully expect you to inform my son about the ways of the world.”

Remus groans. “If I finish this teaching degree,” he mutters. “Vector isn’t pleased about all the class I miss.”

“Cow,” interjects Sirius, pulling a face.

Lily frowns. “You can’t help that you get sick, Remus. She ought to be more understanding.”

Remus shrugs. “She’s big on attendance.”

“Had to drop her last year,” adds Peter, shuddering. “Missed four lectures and she threatened to fail me.”

James nods sympathetically. “After begging to switch to night class so Sirius can watch Harry while I’m at school, last month I had to tell her I was an hour late because Harry threw up on me. Three times.” He glances at Lily. “You sure you want to choose him over me? He’s well-practiced in the art of projectile vomit.”

Lily doubts Harry knows he’s being talked about, but he babbles when his father is looking in his direction. She turns her gaze downward. “Still him. No contest.”

James beams at Harry, or perhaps at the two of them. “Yeah, I’d pick him too.”

When Lily first notices the shift between them, they’re in a park. Harry’s too young to be able to run around, but he loves being outside anyway. Spring has arrived, and he’s growing like the weeds that are starting to make their way out of the ground. He twists and turns in his pram, eagerly trying to take everything in.

James trainers are undone, as always, so Lily is keeping her eyes on Harry as he kneels down to tie them.

An elderly woman passes by and tells Lily, “Your son is adorable.”

Lily blushes. “Oh, he’s—”

“How old is he?” the woman asks.

“Just coming up on eight months,” replies James, standing up.

The lady smiles, eyes crinkling at James’s boy. “That’s a good age. Before you can blink, he’ll be running around and it’ll be all you can do to keep up. Make sure you still make time for each other.”

James seems to realize the woman’s mistake, and he meets Lily’s eye. She thinks he’s going to correct her, but instead he says, “Good advice.”

Good advice rings through Lily’s head for at least two weeks after, and it has her flushing every time she has to look him in the face. She’s not fool enough to pretend what she was feeling when she was in France didn’t mean anything, but things are different now. James has Harry. Harry, the love of his life, who has shaken his world irrevocably. She’s not selfish enough to try to alter the life that he’s only just started to build.

But Sirius sees it. She knows he does. He can be annoyingly perceptive when it comes to things that concern James Potter.

He manages to hold his tongue for two weeks. She is watching Harry with Sirius during James’s maths lecture when he finally says to her, “So, how long’ve you been in love with James?”

Lily wants to say I’m not, but what comes out is, “France.”

Sirius picks Harry up and raises him up in the air. “So, not as long as he’s been in love with you.”

Her heart stutters, and she takes Harry from Sirius and spins him around so she has an excuse to hide her face. “James isn’t… his heart is occupied at the moment.”

Sirius laughs. “You don’t think Prongs has a heart big enough for all of us?”

Lily turns. Harry’s hands are tangled in her hair again, as they usually are these days. “I can’t ask him to make any big changes right now. Harry deserves the whole world.”

“That’s why.” Sirius says, with a smile that’s both sincere and smug. “Harry matters to you, and that matters to him.”

“I’m not going to tell him,” she says firmly. Her heart protests, but it quiets when she looks at Harry, who has burrowed himself in it as deeply as his father. “I’ll do it when he has more time to decide what he wants.”

Sirius won’t tell him either, Lily knows that much. Still, he gives Lily and Harry a lingering glance as they hold onto each other, “He already knows what he wants, Evans. This is it.”

Lily hesitates about what constitutes the right time, but she knows herself enough to be certain she wouldn’t even consider saying something if she weren’t in it for the long haul. Soon, it simply becomes a matter of finding a moment alone.

In the end, Harry is one who changes things once again. When he turns a year old, James decides to throw Harry a spectacular birthday party. There are dozens of balloons, paper stars on every surface of the flat, and a man in star-spangled robes who claims to be a magician (though he never does any tricks). By early evening, Harry is too exhausted to continue, so he is put to bed and the adults decide to open a bottle of wine.

When James is in the kitchen getting a corkscrew, she slips in, hands behind her back.

“I have a surprise for you.”

James grins, turning around. “It’s not another baby, is it?”

“I hope not, or he won’t be very comfortable in this box.” She moves her hands in front of her and hands him a neatly-wrapped gift. “When Petunia and I were little, we used to have a tradition. On our birthdays, we would give our mum a present, since she was the person who gave us life and spent the whole year looking after us. I thought, since Harry’s too young to know how much you do for him, I’d step in for him this year.”

He falters, looking a bit flustered. “Evans…”

Lily looks at James fondly. He still has paper stars in his hair from the party. “You’re a good dad, James. I hope you know that. Harry’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him,” says James, setting down the present. He hesitates for a moment, and then adds, “And you.”

She’s not sure if she steps closer or he does, but there’s less distance between them in the next moment. “I’m lucky that Harry’s in my life too.”

James reaches a hand to cup her cheek. “We’re all very lucky.”

And when he kisses her, Lily can’t help but agree.

[paperspell]

Kingdom Hearts || Three Half Promises

Rating: Teens and up

@mimiplaysgames and @lyssala helped me put a little more life in this chapter! In fact, they basically do that in nearly all the other chapters! But still, this is the part where I always say how awesome they are and how glad I am for them to assist me. And they are! And I am! Cheers! 

Summary: A character study of Aqua and Terra from childhood to adulthood

Chapter 5: The Master’s teachings | About the world’s orders

It’s Terra’s idea to stay at the secret garden post practice, a proposal he asks her about one morning after his invitation to that very spot. Spring brings forth clear skies and fair weather, enough that it would be shameful to stay cooped up in the castle rather than outside. Flowers are blooming in earnest, and there is a certain cheer that accompanies the growing warmth.

Aqua is apprehensive to say yes at first. She can still envision the glowing eyes amidst the darkness of the night, feel the dread that slithers into her senses from the unknown.

“It’ll be fine,” Terra says. “We’re not too far from the plains, and we can always go before sundown. Just follow me.”

He adds on how he needs help tending to various vegetables – rows of carrots, cabbages, leeks and peas – or so he says; Aqua finds out that very afternoon it’s not so much her help he desires, but rather, her company as he works. Keen to be friends, she agrees and helps him carry off books to study during the daylight. They go about silently in preparation for their next lesson (which has unfortunately hit a dull topic of theoretical changes brought by magic at a subatomic level) – at least until they cannot stand it anymore, prompting Aqua to read aloud from a big book of stories instead.

This particular tale is a grand one, about rogue pirates and the untold riches stowed in a far-off place, a famed planet buried with treasures. In no time at all, Aqua reaches the last page.

“…when he looks up, he sees the gleam of the stars, twinkling above like the very eyes of that rogue who took off in jubilant laughter…”

Terra yawns contently in response as Aqua closes the book. Having watered and fertilized the crops, he carefully puts aside his whittling work, and lays down, disappearing within the groves of pansies and yellow trilliums. She can’t blame him; today’s a very lazy day, the sun welcoming them to doze on the smooth, tepid grass.

The block of wood he’s been working away with is taking shape, but there are no discerning features about it yet. Aqua wants to ask, but she has a feeling that their friendship is still in its early, fragile stage. Much like a dandelion, she has to treat it with upmost care. She settles with pulling up another book she’s seen him reading last night, handing it over.

“Why are you giving it to me?” he asks.

“I thought we were taking turns.”

“Oh. Well…” A strange expression clouds Terra’s face. “Wouldn’t I be spoiling it for you?”

“I don’t mind,” Aqua says. She presses the novel to him once more.

Terra looks taken back at the book she hands to him. He passes it to and fro, as if he’s unsure of how to even open it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he affirms quickly. His left hand twitches as his finger glosses over the title of the book. “Anyway…”

Even as his opens the cover, flipping to the bookmark page, he makes no attempt to read the text aloud. Terra coughs before starting in a slow drawl.

"Erm, okay…the…the creepers of the grates were startled to find someone already there…”  

Aqua looks over his shoulders to read alongside him.

“Terra?” She frowns. “It’s says keeper of the gates.”

“Right,” Terra mumbles, before flushing red. He squints at the page again, hesitating a beat too long.

“Once the men saw that this stranger was no one else but the prince, they…ray-rep-”

“Rejoice,” Aqua says helpfully, then immediately wishes she hasn’t.

Terra stares hard at the words. Finding that she is right, he carefully reads the rest of the passage. Even though it isn’t particularly hard, Aqua could see the relief that passes over him – that is, until he fumbles another word. She doesn’t make another attempt to correct, but he pauses, knowing what he just spoke makes no sense with the context of it all. Terra shuts the book hastily, and Aqua fears that an invisible wall, one she thought they had overcome, is starting to thicken once more.

“You can laugh if you want,” he mumbles.

“Er,” she says, perhaps too quickly, “about what?”

Terra looks as if he bit into bitter melon.

“About the fact that I can’t read,” he begins hotly. “Read right, I mean. I can’t do it as well as you.

He begins to thrust the book back to her, but thinking better of it, sighs and places it in her hand a touch gentler than originally intended. Clearly, he doesn’t want to be the one to break the peace between them either, and it gives her hope – just a little.

“It’s okay. Plenty of kids in Radiant Garden mix up their words too,” she assures him. “It takes practice, that’s all.”

Terra nods slowly at this.

“I know. It’s just–” He sighs. “I can read by myself, most of the time. Not a lot, cause then I get headaches, but I really can read well when nobody’s, you know…listening.”  

His voice gives away to unexpected earnestness at the end, like he’s trying to convince her to believe him. Although Aqua does trust him on this, the way it comes out is so unlike the cool, unbothered boy who she knows that it startles her. All she can offer is a lame “sure,” which does little to reconcile him.

“I believe you,” she states in a hurry. “I won’t make fun of you for it, I promise.”

Terra stops fiddling with the grass.

“But you can, you know. Everybody else did anyway.”

Aqua edges closer at this. His voice has dropped so much it’s hard to catch what he’s saying.

“Who do you mean?”

Terra wets his lips, opening his mouth to give a proper explanation, but then clams it shut before turning away. A bell goes off in Aqua’s head – of course, Master Eraqus had mentioned, the falling of Terra’s home. Whoever he’s thinking about is most likely long gone. Her mouth goes dry, and she is racking her brains to say something to save the little pleasantness left.

“Nobody made fun of anybody in the orphanage for not reading well. Otherwise we’ll get in trouble. Besides, I don’t want to do that either way,” Aqua declares. “We’re friends, right?”

It feels a bit silly to declare something as simple as that, but at this point Aqua couldn’t be sure. They have stopped fighting, but the hesitation she senses before Terra confirms that yes, they are indeed friends, is enough to prove there’s still more work to be done on that. Trying not to dwell on this small unhappiness, she offers to read the book from the beginning, which cheers him up considerably – she unravels the story with poise and is clearly appreciative of all the right parts that when they get ready to retreat back to the castle, their spirits are as light as when they first start out.

“Thanks for…you know…” Terra says, rubbing the back of his neck. Keeping his promise, the sun is casting the last of its rays before dipping behind the mountains as they edge out of the meadow.

“S’okay,” she nods. “I’ve read to the younger kids before because the misses told me to – so I got a lot of practice out of it. If you want I can help you, um, read smoother.”

“Really?” Then, perhaps ashamed he sounds so eager, Terra clears his throat and walks quicker to the castle’s entrance.

“Really,” she says, catching up to him.

He slows down some before they reach the dining hall. Maybe he’s thinking of how to properly respond to this unexpected help, but being unable to fully express his gratitude, Terra is left giving her a sheepish grin.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Aqua doesn’t hesitate, and a definite “yeah” leaves her mouth before she even realizes.

Things become exceptionally better as friends. By the time they hang around the garden for the fifth time, the hours seem to chip away until dusk settles, and they continue their companionship well past what is expected.

In exchange for Aqua’s help reading, Terra suggests that they work together on techniques, during which he readily gives Aqua pointers on how to utilize the sides of her wooden sword better. She tries to copy his style of fighting, and quickly discovers she can’t match his strength. However, Terra does not scoff anymore, and makes genuine attempts to help her improve her sparring. With the sudden increase in productivity, there’s ample time to relax afterwards. They grow careless of their company, with midday chores made fun as they begin talking about everything, and yet nothing in particular. It slows down their progress of course, and sometimes Master Eraqus will give them a stern reminder to finish up their duties.    

Aqua knows the Master isn’t really mad; he’s probably more relieved they can find a friend in each other. Still, it doesn’t stop him from rebuking them when they grow lax on their lessons, and without the fiery competition they once had, Aqua notes how she and Terra face a different problem now – instead of quizzes and the like she’s known in Radiant Garden, Master Eraqus makes it a habit to test them by popping the occasional question, sometimes aimed directly at Terra and his glassy face.

This happens during one particular lesson, when they are moving on from the collective history of the Age of Fairytales to the wider range cultures of that could be found from world to world. As established hierarchies of multiple worlds are being explored, Aqua can’t help but feel sorry for Terra, as he blinks in alarm at the question.

“Yes Master?” he asks, snapping to.

Eraqus is not amused.

“I am asking you, Terra, exactly what importance a royal family – say from a place like Enchanted Dominion – serves in regard to the entrance of outsiders.”

“Er,” Terra intones, as Eraqus raises a questioning brow, “I-I don’t know, sir.”

Eraqus stares hard at Terra, enough so that even Aqua, who sits on the Master’s opposite side, rights herself to be as straight as an arrow. Once properly ensuring Terra’s attention, the Master proceeds to explain how the royal family bears the honor of knowing more than their subjects about the history and hearts of worlds, thus carry the responsibilities of enforcing the protection of their world’s order.

“If nothing else,” Eraqus says, “remember this – it is crucial that we serve not just as warriors of the Light, but as peacekeepers. We are free to tread on any world in existence, but they are not ours to claim over. When we enter each world, we are considered outsiders and must obey the rules of inhabitants.

“In fact, some worlds are not entirely welcoming of Keybearers. It may be due to caution, fear, or perhaps rash assumptions of us. They know the Keyblade holds power, but they also know the terrible dangers it beckons. Even in this era of peace, the remnants of what happened a century ago, and the splitting of the world is retold, maybe more accurately on some worlds than others.”

Aqua stops twiddling with the grass on her side. It has never occurred to her exactly how many rules there are in order to keep all the worlds safe. How to gauge, how to remain discreet, how go about getting an audience with those empower, and then, how to act when you finally do – the Master goes through it all.

Terra starts to drift off again, his expression slightly unfocused. Even she begins to feel the boring rigidness of Master Eraqus’ explanation about surveying from a distance, like learning the rules of the world before blending in and prodding exactly how much the inhabitants know. The lecture goes on without anything notable aside from further mentions of Enchanted Dominion, specifically about the unusual abundance of Light from the rumored princess who should be about Aqua’s age if the Master remembers correctly. By the time they are dismissed, the Master yanks Terra back to attention, and they are given one final tidbit of “if nothing else, remember this” about the dangers of a dark sorceress who lives in the shadows of that world.      

“It’s not fair though,” Terra muses during their retreat back to the garden. “How come it’s always me?”

Aqua bites down her smirk. Truthfully, between the two of them, she’s more prone to daydreaming during the lessons, so it’s crucial that she gives all the right cues on the right time. Judging the tone of Master Eraqus’ voice, his pauses and gestures, she either nods or give the occasional hum.

“You just got to pay more attention.”

“Says you,” he remarks. Terra, somehow catching exactly how bored she is during their lecture, has agreed to keep it secret, justifying it with “well, I think it’s pretty funny too.”

Although they both respect the Master a lot, nothing stops them from making fun of him every now and then. His hard-earned wisdom, not yet comprehensible, earns them fits of laughter when they study together, as they take every chance to parrot his trademark phrase.

“If nothing else,” Aqua says in her most queenly voice, “remember this.”

“Ha,” Terra snickers. “You sound just like him!”  

Encouraged by each other, they continue to share their outrageous impressions, each more exaggerated than the last. Chuckling at their cleverness, they stretch over their toppled books to pore over the thicket that leads deeper into the woods.

“Hey Terra, do you ever wonder what’s past those bushes over there?” Aqua points at the direction of the darkening, narrow road.

“More trees,” Terra retorts, grinning at her unamused face. “It’s true. Take a look.”

He gets up to his feet, beckoning her over.

They have to crawl under the small opening of the bushes, as they were too thick to push aside, and the surrounding trees grew too closely for them to walk around. The tunnel is small, but wide enough for them to go through without too much difficulty. When they reach the end, Aqua has to brush some loose leaves from her head.

“Took me a while to make the hole big enough,” Terra says, “but see?”

He points at one nearby, and Aqua can see a faint ‘T’ has been carved on its base. Terra takes the lead once more, and she follows him closely. The path they trend on is slight yet noticeable enough to mark it as well used. They pass by a couple of more trees with Terra’s markings, some with wild flowers for company. As they edge deeper, she can hear the growing roars of moving waters.

“Careful, we’re right above a cave,” Terra informs her as they step over damp ridges of stone. “I got a bad cut from here one time.”

Sure enough, peering from the hem of his shorts, she could see a white scar that trails to his calf. Aqua thinks she’s finally got an answer to what Terra does when the Master is away. While Master Eraqus has been exploring, Terra has been making his own discoveries right here, on this very corner of the world.     

“Wow,” she breathes out, once the waterfall comes to view. Even grander is the lake the water spills out to, with more mountains in the distance. “You didn’t say anything about this.”

“I haven’t really been past this point,” he says, shrugging. “There’s too much water. If we want to go further out, we have to find another road.”

The stillness of the lake made it so that the horizon where water and sky meet are indiscernible. They break this illusion by taking turns skipping rocks, Terra a touch proud when his rocks fly out further, at least until Aqua’s final stone skips past his mark.

As they make their way back to drier land, a rustle comes from the bush behind them. Aqua drops her stone in a jolt. The noise doesn’t bother Terra, and he doesn’t even notice her shrinking from behind him. Instead, he holds his arm out, as if greeting an old friend. A deer pops out, and with her, a young fawning. They also do not seem to be troubled by Terra’s presence, although they do seem apprehensive to Aqua’s.

“Why are you standing all the way over there for?” Terra asks, finally noticing her position. “Come say hello.”

“Er,” Aqua says, not moving an inch.

Terra laughs softly, and the sound tinkles in the air. “They don’t bite, I promise.”

Her foot snaps a stray branch as she steps forward. The deer rears back with her ears up, and her child follows suit. Terra has to hold out his hand and soothe them before Aqua could take another step.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

Terra takes her shaky hand and moves it, slowly and gently, towards the nose of the deer. The magnificent creature proceeds to sniff, until at last it gives a small tentative lick. Aqua breathes out in relief, her hand still hovering in the air.

“You can pet them now,” Terra says, smiling broadly.

She does. Their hair is coarser than she expects, and the fawn is both skittish and desperate for her attention. Aqua treats it much gentler until it proves it’s overcome their fears completely. She pets its head carefully, and is rewarded with a deliberate closing of it’s large innocuous eyes.

“I did it,” she sighs.

“Yep,” Terra says proudly. “Now they trust you.”

When both mother and child leave, Aqua’s hand is licked raw.

Terra and Aqua start their slow trek back to their meadow. On the way, he explains the troubles of having a garden out in the woods. He had to set traps and snares every so often to keep wild animals out, and one day without meaning to, his snare caught hold of a deer lurking nearby. With no resolve to dispose it, Terra freed it, and started making a fence to keep both prey and predators away. Ever since, he’s come across various other animals but makes sure to keep to his own territory.

“It’s amazing though,” Aqua says once they are back in the garden, “with all the things you find here. A whole place to yourself.”

“Yeah,” Terra nods. He looks at her. “You really think so?”

“You don’t?”

Terra gives a noncommittal hum. “It’s not that I don’t think it’s amazing, I do. But being here, all the time makes me, I don’t know…see things differently. I guess.”

“There’s still plenty of things we haven’t seen yet,” Aqua points out. “We haven’t been around the entire world.”  

Terra considers this, but only briefly.

“Remember when we were learning about the Great Keyblade War from a hundred years ago? The Master said that when Daybreak Town split and all its pieces were left to form a world of its own, this place itself is what’s left from the fountain where Master Ava told the dandelions to run.”

Aqua nods, finishing the memory. “That’s where all the Keyblade wielders gathered, and that’s why we have all this Light to protect us.”

Terra doesn’t seem to be satisfied with this. He looks over all their toppled books, reaching for the one titling Radiant Garden’s history.

“I like it here, but I can’t help thinking about the chances of me being anywhere else,” Terra says. “You’re really lucky, since Radiant Garden is huge.”

A strange, hungry look crosses his eyes, but when Aqua blinks it’s gone. What replaces it is a wistful expression. Carefully mulling over the right words, he utters quietly.  

“This world is just…too small.”  

A younger Terra, trampling around while Master Eraqus is gone crosses her mind. Training, reading, planting and getting hurt before picking himself back up again, alone.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “It’s only because we keep talking about worlds, and I haven’t been since Master Eraqus took me when I first came here.”

“You got to travel with the Master?” she inquires.

“Only once,” Terra admits. “It was a long time ago, when we were searching for someone, a friend of his, I think. The place we went to had lots of islands and grew star-shaped fruit. It was just that one time, and I don’t think it’ll be easy for the Master to take us both before we learn how to summon our Keyblade.”

“Have you tried?”

Terra blushes.

“Sometimes, I guess…I don’t know. It’s hasn’t come yet.” He looks away, hand on the nape of his neck.

Aqua has an inkling that sometimes may mean more than Terra suggests. She had spent countless hours grasping at thin air in the privacy of her bedroom. The thought that perhaps Terra did too gives her some comfort. Besides, the Master did mention that it takes some time to summon one, and it wasn’t so long ago that she came here. She tells him so.

“I’ve been here longer though,” Terra corrects flatly, “and nothing’s ever happened.”

Here she deflates a little. The same memory echoes Master Eraqus’ afterthought – it will still take some time – in some rare cases, even years – for a corporal Keyblade of one’s own to emerge…        

“I don’t get it,” Terra finally says. “the Master said I’m strong. I’ve tried, but no matter what, it won’t appear.”

“What about getting to know what’s close our hearts?” Aqua recalls. “Maybe we need to start there.”

Terra shakes his head and mumbles, “I know that my heart is strong. I just wonder if it’s strong enough.”

He goes quiet, holding his left hand with his right, gingerly studying something Aqua can’t see. She considers his contemplation, while also thinking back to how, not long ago, they competed time after time, just to best each other. Frustratingly so, she cannot say that Terra isn’t the most driven and unyielding person she knows.

“If it’s not already,” Aqua says, “it will be.”

Here in the grove, speckles of light colors Terra’s eyes in a golden hue. He seems puzzled by her declaration, but eventually accepts the support behind it. He gives a rueful smile.

“Thanks. One day when my heart’s strong enough,” he says, looking to the sky, “I’ll go out there and see everything. Just like the Master.”

The wind sweeps by them, shaking the trees and whipping their hair. When Aqua opens her eyes again, she finds Terra’s has returned to their startling blue. 

Every day since then, Terra and Aqua would edge just a bit further out around the lake, paving away a new path. They always have to stop before dark, so not much could be said about their progress on making it to the mountains on the other side. Regardless, they have fun hopping over stumps and walking over fallen logs. Terra insists they now carve ‘T & A’ over any noticeable landmark, and even hands her one of his special whittling knives to do so. Bolden by his sureness, Aqua begins to walk in stride with him. Once their day adventures are done, when night falls they take a trip to different worlds, with the help of books and the dim glow of a single lantern they share between each other.

Spring yields plenty of crops and sweet apricots, which Master Eraqus makes into pies once a week. Although both Terra and Aqua offer to help, neither has talent when it comes to cooking, and so under the Master’s orders they dutifully retreat to wash up while he cleans up the now very messy kitchen. As they walk down the halls to use the sink in the small bath, Terra flicks some flour at Aqua, and she retaliates by smearing apricot juice on his chin.

“You got it in my hair,” she grumbles, trying to swipe it clean.

“Yeah well,” Terra smirks, thumbing the juice and licking it away, “you should’ve gotten it on mine.”

And she would have too, if he didn’t back up so fast and started running down the hall. They collided by the foot of the door to the bathroom in fits of giggles as they struggled, Aqua trying to reach over him and Terra grasping at both her wrist.

“Stay – still–” she grunts, aiming for his parted bangs. Terra’s still physically stronger, but he looks surprised by her growth in strength.

“Okay,” he laughs. “Okay! You win! Lemme go.”

Cleaning up proves to be even more challenging as their fight does not subside. Terra flicks water at her, and she aims the sink’s faucet squarely to his face.

“Aqua!” he cries, but her name is garbled by the water, which spills out and dribbles down his chin.

“What?” she says, a bit too innocently. “You’re clean now.”

They step back out the hall, the closet-size infirmary right across from them. As Aqua turns to go, she does a double take when a glint from something at the far corner flashes her. Now that it’s daylight, she could see a reflective handle attached to an even smaller door that’s right next to them. Perhaps that night she took Terra to the medic room she was so fearful that she didn’t notice it before, but somehow that doesn’t seem to be the case. The door is narrow and pale, nearly blending with the wall.

“Terra, what’s that room over there?”

The boy pivots to track the direction of her pointing finger.

“Oh. That.” Terra stares uneasily at the door. “It’s an old room. I think it used to belong to someone, but Master Eraqus said they left a long time ago. It’s not important – we should head back.”

There’s something about it, and the way Terra is fidgeting, resolutely trying to steer them away that has her curious.

“Have you been inside?”

“Yeah, when I first got here,” Terra confesses, but then twitches his eyebrow in annoyance. “And come on, stop doing that.”

“Sorry,” she says. As much as she knows how Terra doesn’t like it when she reads him, sometimes she can’t help it. “I just want to check it out.”

“Aqua–” Terra starts, but she has already opened the door and slipped in. He follows with less enthusiasm.

The first thing that hits her is the smell – that of stale dryness, which effectively hovers over a second, less prominent odor. It’s musky yet sterile, kind of like a hospital room, purposely scented clean. Aqua wrinkles her nose.

Dust looms heavily in this place, even more so than the treasure room. A thin sliver of the evening’s dying light makes its way through the curtains, but only just.

Aqua can now tell exactly why Terra is so uncomfortable here – whereas the treasure room may be filled with discarded items of other people, rich with sentimentality and hopes from each individual, this bedroom gives no tragic imprint.

Instead, what is left behind brings up more questions than answers. Littered on the floor are loose pieces of crumple notes, pairs of thin rubber gloves, and alarmingly curious, a dull scalpel. Picking up and unraveling a note, she sees it’s a page detailing the human anatomy, specifically, the heart.

There’s a low ticking coming from a metronome on top of a shelf over the bed. Lined up against it were several hourglasses, in which each grain of sand within has already reached the bottom. Still, the metronome ticks away, marching along with time with or without its owner.

Certainly, someone has slept and used this room before, but Aqua can’t tell what sort of person they were – it’s as if they tried erasing their own presence completely.

“What is all this?” she whispers.

She traces the parchment of notes tacked up against the wall, the writing too frantic and faded for her to read. There is a bold circling on a certain key aspect. Who made it was so excited about what they discovered that their pen, tracing the circle over and over, has left a slight tear on the paper.

“I don’t know,” Terra replies. “Whoever was here really likes writing their own discoveries though. I think they might had been a Seeker – half of this stuff is about Kingdom Hearts.”

Eyeing the circled scribble, Aqua can make the words out now, and it does indeed say that. Terra edges himself away from a stack of books by the foot of the bed. When she turns to face him, a table with beakers and flasks, set right in the middle of the room, obscures her vision of him. With such an angle, she sees the whole of Terra’s body through the glass of a small test tube.

The tube, having been cleared from substance, isn’t exactly clean. She sees stains of inky blackness pooled at the bottom, from the same glass Terra seems to be encased in.

Touching the glass, she finds it’s as cold, if not colder, that the rest of the room. She feels a prickle on her neck, but when she turns around, the only thing she sees is the empty sockets of an intricate goat mask.

“Hey,” Terra’s reflection says, “let’s go.”

Aqua tilts her head up to see Terra beckoning her over.

She feels like how he looks – Terra’s back is aligned to the wall, as if he doesn’t want anything to sneak up from behind him. Although nobody else is in the room with them, Aqua can’t shake the feeling of being watched, and she’s becoming keenly aware of the now insistent ticking of the metronome, which might be growing louder with each swing unless her ears were deceiving her.    

Careful not to knock into anything, as well as show her hastiness, she joins him out in the hall. She clicks the door shut from behind her.

“That was…” she pauses, not sure what to say.

“…Interesting,” Terra finishes.

That wasn’t the word she would use to describe it. The room, in her opinion, is hauntingly mysterious. Someone was tinkering with something, wildly uncovering a secret only to take it with them when they left. Still, Terra isn’t wrong – the whole thing is interesting in its own way. Putting it in such an innocent perspective is impossible, however, and the rising goosebumps from their arms proves it.

Wordlessly, they both speed down the corridors trying their best to shake off this uneasiness without really showing it.

Back in the kitchen the pie is almost done baking. The sweet aroma wafts into their noses, and the Master welcomes them back to a pristine kitchen.

“You two certainly took your time,” the Master notes. He wipes his hand clean from the last of the mess.

“Sorry Master,” Aqua says. “We got distracted.”

“Oh?” Master Eraqus raises a brow. “If nothing else, remember to keep the mess at a minimum next time. I would appreciate both my helpers to aid more and wreck less havoc if they insist on assisting.”

Terra and Aqua dare not to even look at each other. She’s fairly certain that the cough that came from Terra is to hide his snicker. She had to bite down her lip to hold in her smile.

“Yes Master,” they both say.

Pulling out a chair, they three of them sit down to enjoy the rest of the evening’s ray and the sweetness of the apricot pie. Master Eraqus drinks his tea. Aqua talks about the candy she gets after dinner sometimes in Radiant Garden. Terra finishes his slice of pie, swiftly cutting himself a second piece just as Aqua is still on her first. The clinking of silverware swallows up whatever pauses in between.  

Here, the warmth of spring reaches them so strongly that Aqua forget the chills of the mysterious bedroom altogether.      

[bulakartists]

Needy

touch starved | PROMPT

kit pouliot x sunny finch | PAIRING

good mourning, sunny finch | BOOK

fluff | GENRE

y e a r n i n g + wanting to be touched dot com + established relationship + alternate pov but it's third-person so its ok + really went ham on the established relationship part and im so so happy about it idc + absolutely no editing we ride the dawn like men | WARNINGS

SHIT I FOUND OUT/HAVE ESTABLISHED IN MY CHARACTERS FROM WRITING THIS:

kit is ticklish, this is now canon im srry

its alr pretty canon that kit always knows what sunny needs/wants, but now its canon that he's fucking PATIENT to the point that its a n n o y i n g, but if its something like neediness and he wants to tease her, hes just about ready to wait until the next goddamn decade for her to make the next move but its ok, he likes it

the psychopath

Kit was casual in everything he did. He didn't find himself wondering, going back and forth between strict indecisions, if he should do/ask/act/say something. He always just did.

An art form that Sunny is still trying to learn.

And ever since she found herself dating Kit Pouliot, she found the restrictions to be too far and tall in order. And one of that, she found herself realising, is the feeling of needy.

When they were still best friends, it was easy. Every time she wanted to touch him- touch his hair, get hugged, and even cuddle next to him as they watch a film - she'd only move a little bit and Kit would know what to do, almost by physical instinct. A familiar pattern of movement.

But now that they were dating, everything felt hyper-realistic. Zoomed. 100% view to 210%. Sunny fixated on every movement she did, every thought that popped multiplied- and now she just. Couldn't.

But Sunny wanted to be touched. Sunny wanted to be cuddled, kissed, and adored.

It's been a few days since Sunny's neediness has overtaken her. She has become restless, fumbling and side-eyeing her boyfriend. But she kept mum, and Kit was starting to notice. She can feel it. There are lingering stares and question marks in his eyes, but he only prods once, because that's Kit; he can wait for a couple of eras, a patience that knows no bounds. And Sunny made a mistake of shaking her head, immediately reassuring him.

And so Kit didn't bring it up anymore, knowing anything Sunny explicitly needs, she'd say.

She marks today as D-Day.

❦

Kit arrives in his usual affair- it's a pretty spring day and he takes his time walking across the expanse of forest before he reaches the Finch Manor. The leaves are bright and lush, and the sway of them reminds him of that one night he accidentally found a Russian channel where a ballet performance was happening. They swayed in unison, in rustles that peaked the morning sun in between.

Terrence Finch opens the door at his arrival. He's in his usual vest brocade and deadpan face. Charles was the perennially smiley one, but he still raises half a smile in response to Kit's greeting.

"She's in the lake."

That makes Kit blink. Sunny doesn't like voyaging out of the house as much as possible, and whenever she is at home, she has her own set of perimeters of where she likes to roam. The like, being 300 meters south of the house, isn't some place she likes to visit.

"Why?"

Terrence makes a hmm sound. An observation. ". . . so you didn't know. I can't tell you, then. If it's her surprise, she'll kill me." He pats his shoulder softly, once, and passes in between hallways. "Good luck."

"Is that good luck it's something good, or is that good luck a guillotine is waiting for me?" he shouts after the man, but he's already gone, leaving only a trail of chuckles.

Kit pulls out his beanie and starts fixing his hair, but trudges on forward. Always ready to face whatever Sunny has in surprise for him.

❦

Sunny waits in nervous energy for her boyfriend, lying down on the procured- freshly laundered - blanket, her wild hair sprayed around her, and her socked feet out on the grass, tickling her through the fabric.

"So it's a picnic," he says aloud, a good meter away but Sunny will always recognise his voice.

Her heart starts thudding loudly again, but she doesn't raise herself. Instead, she raises her arm and waves it in both acknowledgement and come hither-thou.

She isn't sure if she can hear him walking through the grass or that's just the sound of the forest, but soon, his warmth envelops close. Close but still too far. . . until Kit brings his hand, his fingers, through her hair and she melts. She tilts her head up, chest flooding in warmth, and sees him upside down, with a beautiful smile.

"I love it," he says, bright as always, her Kit.

And it breaks her chest open. It fills it with this sudden rush of love that it makes her gasp. With a silent resolution, Sunny raises herself and stares at him through a glassy-eyed indecision.

Kit doesn't say anything, only tilts his head on one side, waiting. His mouth twitches and Sunny suddenly realises- he knows, the bastard - and with a groan, she crawls to where he is, raising her dress and settling on his lap.

He's warm- Kit is always so warm, a human beaker of warmth - and he's laughing, she can feel the reverberations in her own chest as if it came from her. But she only tightens her hold, her arms looped around his neck, her legs around his hips, and her neck burrowed deep on the crook of his neck, on the skin there, breathing warmth against it and he shifts, giggling, that sweet spot where he's ticklish.

Kit is always ticklish, to almost any part of his body. But even as he complains amidst through laughter, Sunny only tightens her hold until Kit wraps his arms around her.

"Since when have you known?" she asks, her lips moving across his skin. He twitches, but she doesn't let off.

"It tickles," he whines, but Sunny only replies by tightening her hold further. He sighs, but he also tightens his hug, snuggling his head against hers. "I wanted you tell me what you want."

"That's so mean," she mumbles.

"I didn't mean it to be, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to tell me what you wanted."

"Mhmh. . . Okay." Without removing herself from being latched to him, she mumbles, "I'm needy."

Kit chuckles, but he obliges. Of course he does. He unravels her hold on him, just a little bit, to push her so he can see her face, and it makes Kit laugh because she's pouting to the point that her eyes are a little glassy.

Carefully cradling her face, Sunny's eyes closed as Kit kisses the side of her face, her cheeks, her eyes, the crook of her neck, her ears. She squirms at each contact, until Kit whispers for her to open her eyes and there's a gentle smile on his face as he tilts her chin up to kiss her lips, weaving his hands on her waist, rubbing her sides as he brought her close.

Sunny leans in, head in the clouds, no thoughts channeling, just the feel of Kit's lips on hers. He always kisses to sweetly, this time is no different because for the little sharpness, the little tease, where he nibbles on her lower lip, humming when she leans forward to deepen it too.

It's both soft and messy, and when they separate, Kit is grinning languidly why Sunny blushes at the lazy look on his face. She attacks him then, going back to wrapping her arms around his neck and disappearing on the crook of his neck.

Kit laughs, settling back to hugging her like this. The sun is warm, the food is getting cold, but that's okay. The day couldn't be better.

"Are you done being needy or?" he mumbles against her hair.

Sunny bites his neck in retaliation.

[jestdrabbles]

Every Hurdle, Every Chasm - Chapter 00

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Warnings: hospitals Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya, Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Todoroki Shouto, Shouto’s mother, All Might | Toshinori Yagi Relationships: Dekusquad friendship | Pining Tododeku & Tsuchako Other info: Dekusquad Roadtrip AU ; Fun times ahead but also some tough emotional times so I should definitely warn about that!; MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS.

Words: ~7,200 | Chapter: 00/14 | Language: English

With the end of their semester exams, the now third-years of U.A. get to finally enjoy a break without mandatory training or internships. Izuku Midoriya and his friends decide to take a roadtrip to visit some family, friends, and holiday celebrations for the winter break. 

While some are along for the thrill of the ride, others have personal goals to achieve through the journey.

[ Somewhat of a preliminary chapter for the roadtrip au! ]

Day 00: Preparations [December 23]

“...And don’t do anything reckless. We’re actually giving you the break, so spend it wisely.”

Class wraps up with pencil taps and bouncing legs waiting out their teacher’s final words.

Then, like magic, the final minutes count down to dismiss U.A.’s students to their winter break. Izuku Midoriya slings his bag over his shoulders and turns to the the left of the classroom where Shouto Todoroki meets his eyes in understood confirmation. Tsuyu Asui excuses herself from the class first, promising to be back in the dorms after a quick errand. After a cheerful parting, Ochako Uraraka bumps Tenya Iida out the door so they could both return to the dorms and take care of their own last minute preparations before the morning’s commitment. She can hardly contain her excitement as her voice trails down the hall in boisterous bursts that call for the former class president to contain her energy. As third years, they have a certain impression on their underclassmen; however, Ochako successfully disputes that their class has never maintained any such fabled degree of chill in their three years at U.A. Hard to argue when her face beams such a confident smile, so Tenya drops the matter with a fond chuckle in agreement.

While students still converse amongst themselves for plans over the break, Izuku and Shouto try not to linger too long as they duck from eager limbs swinging in a mixture of newfound energy and relief. Trying his best to uphold the cheery demeanor of his peers, Izuku starts the flow of conversation between them.

“So… have you finished packing?”

Shouto quirks a brow, “...Was I supposed to be?” he asks as if caught off guard, but he’s met with a snicker quickly covered by his friend’s scarred hand. Even after the past few years of hearing Izuku’s laugh, Shouto would always find it to be one of his more endearing qualities. Rather than linger on the sentiment, he decides it better to let his freckled friend enjoy the teasing just a little longer.

“Wait, seriously? Let me guess… you haven’t started,” Izuku peeks out the corner of his eye and waits for the confirmation, and Shouto delivers with a nice, flat:

“Nope.”

“Todoroki! You have to sleep tonight!”

“I’ll sleep in the car.”

Izuku sulks his shoulders and opens his mouth to dispute, but closes it again. “You were prepared,” he notes the readiness in the boy’s deadpan, and his neutral expression gives to an upturn of his lip. Shouto’s smiles were subtle, his laughs even more so; this is the most he’ll get out of him. “Well, don’t worry about bringing toothpaste or shampoo unless you’re really particular about that kind of thing. Oh, and I think Tsu’s bringing the blow dryer since she doesn’t want to sleep with wet hair. What else… ah! I packed a sleeping bag in case anyone has to sleep on the floor at some point, but it might not be comfortable for you or Iida since you’re both taller… maybe I should have tried finding a bigger one, but then it wouldn’t have fit as well in my luggage, so I wouldn’t have space for the spare jacket or…” he continues on weighing the pros and cons of his luggage choice, unraveling his previous decisions until he’s mentally unpacking and repacking it all over again.

Shouto doesn’t mind his ramblings, especially when the commute from campus to the hospital could take their minds in several other directions. Only recently Izuku began accompanying him on free days, but not to see his friend’s mother. The subject still weighs heavily in his stomach, anxiety threatening to lurch and burn every positive thought until they’re left to expose harsh truths.

All Might isn’t doing well.

He hasn’t been for a while now, but with the winter’s wicked welcome this year, his health put him at further risk. Just to be safe, he agreed to admittance for the season and would be discharged in spring should all prove favorable. The former number one hero still proves to be one of the strongest, most inspiring people in their world, and losing him as a pro their first year still stings in the aftermath. Shouto feels a certain degree of pain from having admired All Might throughout his unforgiving childhood, always actively averting his tendencies that his father drilled into him in order to be the sort of hero he favored. However, he cannot help but keep his eyes on Izuku ever since the change; while not father and son as originally thought, he’s learned how adoration clings strongly in Izuku’s heart for his hero.

They may as well be family.

He has to dispose of his worry for his friend’s sake. Just as their hero had done for them, they must do for him with a smile across their lips and action ready in their hands. Shouto only listens along to Izuku’s muttering with an ebbing nod while he keeps loose attention for their stop. Rather than cut off the muttering, he gently ushers the both of them off the train, and the other boy drops his thought with laughter in his voice as he apologizes for it.

“Hey, Todoroki? Can I ask you something?” his voice glides over the melancholy permeating in his chest as his hands find one another to keep occupied as they walk. Shouto doesn’t waste much time offering a sort of grunt in acknowledgement, so Izuku continues. “You’ve been doing this for a while now, so I just wanted to ask if it… Does it ever get easier seeing her in there?”

It’s a topic the group tends to skirt around politely, but sometimes Izuku takes the extra step to check on him through it since he’s the only one Shouto ever openly told. In this case, he can tell by the way his tone pushes through worry that he’s hoping for reassurance.

“Remember when we were in the hospital after the hero killer incident? It was the first time after seeing my mother again that I’d stayed in a hospital overnight like that, and to be honest, I didn’t sleep well,” that was no surprise considering the three had shared a brief conversation that night about trouble sleeping, but eventually Izuku and Tenya were able to drift into snoring slumber. “I kept thinking this is how Mom must feel. I hated it, but now whenever I go, I use that to remind myself why I’m going to get her out of there.”

A resolve built from hatred, but a hatred stemming from love. Izuku could smash his legs and shout out to the heavens for his hero, but he knows gaunt cheeks would only sink further into a frown. With both hands, Izuku must pull the burden from his mentor’s shoulders. You’re next. The phrase still haunts him through his growth, reminding him it isn’t enough. He swears in his heart he’ll make it, and maybe Shouto’s inspiration isn’t so far off.

“...Perhaps Iida would be better suited to answer that,” Izuku snaps out of his thoughts to realize he never said anything in response, and his hands wave frantically in his fluster.

“Sorry! Sorry, I was thinking about what you said,” he corrects his silence, but Shouto isn’t wrong in suggesting that he talk to Tenya, as well. “Thanks,” wide eyes blink up to his stoic companion, “you’re right, Todoroki. I shouldn’t think of this as permanent.”

When they reach the front desk, they each speak to the receptionist before tracing familiar steps to their differing sections of the hospital. When Izuku establishes a plan to text each other when they’re ready, Shouto catches the way his brow weighs heavy despite his grin. Pushing himself as usual, but nothing Shouto can say would possibly lighten his load, so he accepts his gentle watch as they part ways should his friend feel crushed from the weight.

He’s already meddling enough by agreeing to come here together, after all.

He doesn’t need to hound him for answers just yet.

The third-years’ dormitory building abounds in chatter and cheers as students either sprawl across sofas and chairs or drag luggage across the floor -- aggressive kicks often accompanying those misbehaving loose wheels. Iida parts with her close to the entrance as he heads toward the boys’ side. Ochako hums to herself until she meets eyes with classmates and friends, gesturing friendly waves and fistbumps accordingly on her way to her room. While she would love to dive into a pile of Mina and Tooru on the sofa, she wants to triple check everything before taking the night off. Floaty by nature, but she likes to believe she’s well-grounded in her responsibilities at least.

Besides, there are a couple of voices she’d love to hear right now, and so when she closes her dorm room’s door, she contemplates using her phone but ultimately decides to send a text and use her school laptop courtesy of some extra funding that came through about a year ago. Once she receives the response she’s hoping for, her rosy cheeks ignite her smile and she immediately sets the video chat to call them. It only takes a few rings before they’re connected, and she waves both hands to her parents’ faces on the other side.

“Mama, Papa, hey!” she greets them with eager affection, still using the childlike names that her peers have probably abandoned. She keeps herself close enough to the screen to avoid showing them her luggage, but before she can squeeze another word in, they’re offering their own enthusiasm with instant praise.

“Congratulations, Ochako!” they hollar almost in unison, then their speech interrupts one another with her father telling her he has full faith she did well on her exams and her mother voicing her pride. They laugh at one another, and Mr. Uraraka meets his daughter’s eyes when she peeks behind her hands from the flattery.

“How does it feel to be done with your exams?”

“Almost unreal,” she admits twiddling her thumbs and softening bashfully, “I keep crashing between excitement for the break and wondering if I’ll have another test tomorrow, y’know? I guess it’s because the past couple’a years we haven’t really gotten much free time from our breaks with all the training and preparation.”

“I think you kids’ve more than earned it,” he reassures her, “I’m sure you’ve been working hard.”

“Yeah… yeah, I really have been giving it my all,” she lets her shoulders relax, “but that’s not really an issue for me, you know?” Her parents smile along with her, but there’s worry in their eyes for their overworked daughter. No matter what they say, she has it in her head that she has to push herself through it all so quickly, and they’ve learned it’s better to catch her when she falls since she won’t let them stop her.

“Well… d’you have anything planned for the holiday, Ochako?” Mrs. Uraraka lifts the conversation, and her daughter hides her scheme very well through a calm tone as she hums in thought.

Of course she has a plan -- it’s the whole reason she and her friends planned this excursion in the first place! But it’s a nice, cozy secret nestled in her heart, and she cannot bring herself to even hint at it or else the surprise may spoil. Thankfully, she already knows her parents do not change their daily lives regardless of the holidays, so they won’t expect her and a car full of gifts and friends this time of year. Christmas is only a day away, but it isn’t soon enough to bombard them with a celebration they never, ever got to experience as a family. Not properly, anyway.

It takes every last bit of her willpower to stop her grin from spreading, and she shrugs her shoulders in response to their curiosity, “I was thinking about getting a part time job. I get restless with too much free time!”

Her mother frowns, and her father’s learned that she’s a workaholic. He eases her concern with a chuckle and puts an arm around her, “Just don’t make us worry too much, okay?”

“Hey, I’ve gotten better!” she blurts defensively with her hands up before crossing her arms in a dramatic pout, glancing back with her vivacious brown eyes to play along. “I have a lot of really good friends now, and we’ve all had to deal with each other pushing ourselves too far. I don’t think they’ll really let me do that again,” she laughs and it eases their concerns almost instantly. They always wish they could take care of her, but there’s only so much they can do from outside the city. Knowing that she’s found such reliable friends who could look after her in their stead couldn’t make them happier for their daughter.

The family continues chatting while buoying each others’ moods so naturally that it almost makes Ochako sink when they have to dismiss themselves to tend to dinner. They mean well, but she still pouts when they remind her not to skip a meal; after hearing about her frugal attempts to save money through having sleep for dinner, they’ve been a bit more vocal in reminding her. She bids them farewell with a promise to call back soon, and she returns to her packing.

Thankfully, she took care of the bulk of it and found a way to squeeze most of the gifts into one suitcase, but overall she still needs two to fit some bedding. She thought about squeezing her hero costume into her luggage but inevitably decided against it since it could prove to be more trouble than it’s worth. It isn’t like she could run all the way back to the car or their hotel room to change in the event of a sudden crisis. But just because they’re taking a trip didn’t mean that heroics would suddenly abandon them -- especially with someone like Deku on board.

She chortles to herself and decides to do something about this remaining energy, so after a quick text conversation asking Eijiro Kirishima to join her at the campus gym, Ochako changes into her workout attire and nearly speeds to the building.

A long time ago, her father told her not to rush so quickly. She could take her time if she wanted.

Ochako Uraraka may not be anywhere near the fastest student in her class, but she doesn’t take her life slowly. She’ll charge head-on to her goals and strive toward larger ones. Her parents won’t have to worry about her much longer: she swears they’ll understand.

She tugs her hair back as she runs and practically slams her fist into Kirishima’s when they meet.

“So you’ll be getting here around 11?”

“If all goes accordingly, yes,” Tenya holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he rummages through his luggage. “And you’ll be home?”

“Naturally,” Tensei replies casually. “Mom’s going to want to make you all lunch before you head out, so be ready for that.”

“But I already told her not to worry about that.”

“You know how she is,” he can almost hear the smile on his face, “besides, I’m here to help out. It would be a shame for you to just take the car and leave so soon, you know?”

“That’s true,” Tenya relents, “thank you, Tensei. Should I bring anything home for either of you?”

“Just you and your friends. Seriously, you don’t have to repay us, all right? The car’s been sitting here untouched forever, so I think it’s great you can get some use out of it.”

Tenya’s worries ease comfortably into a smile with his brother’s voice reassuring him, and he offers his own acceptance with dual affirmation. The former hero laughs a little, “Still… I have to question your itinerary here, little brother.”

“Believe me,” he sighed, “I tried to change it, but Uraraka wouldn’t budge. She insisted that we arrive in Mie for Christmas, so we couldn’t save it for later.” Uraraka Ochako, bright and bubbly as can be, is a force to be reckoned with when she sets her mind on something. The commute to Tokyo, then driving down around Mie, then all the way up to Hokkaido, and lastly returning down through Tokyo again. Holiday displays and celebrations await them with promises of cheer and a chance to have some youthful fun before the world swings with the full weight of a fist held for years.

“I’m sure you’ll all have fun. Try not to get too sick of each other,” Tensei teases, “and no backseat driving when your friend takes over.”

“I’ve made sure Todoroki meets my driving standards,” Tenya places a hand on his chest with pride as if playing along. They’d agreed to take shifts depending on the time of day: Tenya during the daylight hours, Todoroki during the night. His friend tends to go above the speed limit, but his control is reliable and careful enough to pardon with a gentle reminder. “We’ll be safe, Tensei.”

“Trouble has a way of finding you kids, so I can’t help but worry a little,” he pauses and hums almost like he’s disagreeing with himself. Villain attacks have become so normal, especially lately. The pros have been working themselves nonstop, and while Tensei himself can no longer patrol as he used to, he’s been active in his agency to handle as much as he can. Still, he can only monitor so much in the Tokyo area, and it seemed the larger, more dangerous spread of villainy was trailing further and further north for a reason no one could determine for sure. “But I know how strong you and your friends have become. Stick together, and let the pros handle it.”

“Will do,” Tenya assures. Ever since he learned the consequences of acting alone, Tenya has never once tried to confront danger without a back-up plan or support. Unfortunately for him, he knows at least two people in his group who still tend to act a bit impulsively despite the experience. They wrap up their call with some extra words pertaining to tolls and traffic warnings, but otherwise keep optimistic about it all.

When he ends the call, Tenya changes from his uniform to more comfortable clothes and heads back downstairs to enjoy the rest of his night amongst his peers. The idea that attacks were becoming more frequent naturally concerned the former class president, so he wanted to see with his own eyes that everyone made it safe to the dorms. A futile worry considering their futures, but one he’d permit while they were still students and not responsible quite yet for the rough path ahead.

But first… he couldn’t possibly ignore that unmistakably satisfying scent coming from the kitchen.

Although she could have easily ventured back to the dorms with her friends, Tsuyu has another agenda for the evening that warms her from spirit to skin despite the winter wind challenging her at every step. Her froggy nature shifts her preferences to nice, warm, humid conditions, but if she has any single adversary as Tsuyu Asui and not Froppy, it’s the winter. Sometimes the fall and spring serve as worthy contenders, but only the frosty air makes her bundle from ear-to-toe. Only this climate slows her down to straggle a little farther than she’d like to admit.

She decides to take her time on the commute to the supermarket. Years of taking care of her siblings in her parents’ stead has taught her to take advantage of bargains when she sees them, but thankfully tonight’s dinner shouldn’t be all that expensive to begin with. Mundane victories, she thinks as she smiles to herself in anticipation of some homemade stew. She makes her purchase and returns to the dorms before the sun could sneak away from the skyline.

“Hey, Tsuyu! Went to the store?” Mina turns from the common room’s sofa when Tsuyu enters with her tote full of groceries. The dorm is kept fairly warm this time of year, so she starts pulling off her mittens and unwrapping her scarf when she greets her friend.

“Since we’re leaving tomorrow, I don’t know when we’ll get another chance to have a home cooked dinner like this,” she explains with her finger pressed to her cheek. “Plus, I really wanted stew. You can have some too if you want, Mina.”

“Ooh! I’d love some! We gotta stay warm, after all!”

“That’s the plan,” Tsuyu smiles back and dismisses herself from the common room and enters the small communal kitchen. She goes through the motions of washing all her vegetables and chopping them up accordingly in her own comfortable silence. Sometimes she misses her siblings’ voices constantly trying to make the food cook quicker, but passerby classmates commenting on the smell is just as well.

Tsuyu knows how demanding hero work is. She knows that the past few years have only been a small glance at what awaits their lives after graduation. And while she’s more than prepared for the task, part of her laments the loss of their time together.

The thought that their work will drive them apart breaks her heart.

Everything about their wintery excursion conflicts with her comforts, yet Tsuyu awaits it with all the warmth she could ever hope for. Not only will she get to see Ochako’s hometown, but she’ll be able to travel up north with her friends and laugh together through it all. She isn’t one for singing, but thinking about the positives composes a nice melody in her head while the stew simmers.

“There you are, Tsuyu,” Tenya pauses in front of the entry mid-motion, and he turns his body almost robotically and repositions his hands. “Are you prepared for tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she nods and turns from the pot to him, natural hop taking over as she closes the distance. “Did you need something?”

“Just making the rounds and making sure you’re all back safe,” he clarifies. “Midoriya and Todoroki aren’t back yet?”

“You’re the only one I’ve seen,” she lets her hands dangle in front of her and flattens her lips a moment, “we’re going to have to use a buddy system, aren’t we?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” he grins. “I heard Uraraka is with Kirishima right now, so at least I know she’s still on campus. I’m not worried about those two per say, but…”

“I don’t think they’ll want to stay around for hospital dinner,” she comments and points over to her pots of stew and rice still cooking. “If they’re back by the time it’s done, we should all eat together.”

“A perfect idea!” his smile spreads, “I’ll send them a text to let them know.” She watches him for a moment longer, empty gaze peering through almost too intently that his smile falters slightly and he feels the need to stiffen his shoulders. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t connect it sooner, but soon enough, Tsuyu’s lips press up into a satisfied smile as her finger joins her cheek.

“This is because you like beef stew, isn’t it, Tenya?” she calls him out with ribbiting grace.

Before he can muster some sort of excuse amidst his hand motions and sputtering, loud footsteps make way for a sweaty, panting Ochako Uraraka gripping the open doorframe and hanging her head into view. “Thought I heard you two in here!” she takes a whiff of the air and almost melts, “That smells so good!”

“We were just talking abou--”

“Wait! I have to redo it!” Ochako pulls back abruptly and reappears to lean against the door frame and fire a finger gun toward Tsuyu. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

It starts with a snicker, but soon enough Tsuyu’s mouth lets out a laugh right from her warming heart. Between Ochako and Tenya, she couldn’t be more grateful for her friends’ comedic timing. She waves her hand for the both of them to follow her back to the stove, and she removes the lid to show them the stew still cooking in the pot. The three crowd around to take it in with a nice, almost harmonious breath, but it passes when Tsuyu covers it again.

“It should be ready in a couple more hours. I invited Mina to have some with us, too, but I think I’ll just leave the leftovers out to share with anyone else, too.”

“You’re so considerate,” Ochako smiles from ear to ear as she steps back.

“I’m used to it,” she gives a shrug and starts making her way to the dishes and utensils she used to prepare. “I have to wash these, but I’ll be out in the main room after. What are you two going to do?”

“I need to shower, first thing,” Ochako tugs at her shirt as if to fan it out.

“I’ve taken care of things on my end, so let me help you with this,” he offers by picking up one of the bowls. Tsuyu accepts with a nod and thanks, and Ochako excuses herself to go wash up. Idle conversation consumes the kitchen between the two of them, and once everything is rinsed and placed on the rack, they return to the common room where Tsuyu practically crashes on the edge of the sofa and Tenya takes an armchair.

Soon enough, Ochako rejoins them with her damp hair and squeezes between Tsuyu and Mina.

This is the kind of closeness that Tsuyu Asui wants to hold onto.

She hopes the next two weeks will be filled with this peaceful, friendly atmosphere.

Shouto gives a light knock to his mother’s room before slowly turning the handle and letting himself in to see her at her bed, smile spreading as she takes in his presence. He can’t help but ease into his own as he closes the door behind him and greets her with warmth in his voice. He’d told Izuku that anger drove him to free her from this place, but when it came down to how he truly felt with her eyes on him, he couldn’t feel more relieved.

“Congratulations on finishing your exams!” she rises from her bed to meet him halfway as her hands extend to take his in a celebratory shake. Ms. Todoroki lets them go with a gentle squeeze and turns around to her end table, “I know you’ve been working hard, and I’ve been waiting for the right time to give you this…” she ducks down with her fingers tucking her hair behind her ear before she pulls a box from the bottom shelf. Holding it out to him, her eyes squint slightly in her smile.

Instinct robs him of what to say, frozen in place with a thought of something undeserving until he filters it out in favor of replaying his mother’s voice. They’ve exchanged gifts here and there, but it was mostly on his part since she could easily run out of things to do in her room alone. Books, crafting supplies, movies, music -- anything that could possibly make the solitude more bearable seems to clutter her shelves these days. Shouto’s lips tighten in bashfulness, cheeks tinged slightly as he accepts.

“Thanks, Mom,” he manages to say, and she urges him to open it with an eager wave of her fingers as if dusting the air. He pulls at the tape to resist tearing the whole structure apart, and once he slides the tissue aside, he passes his fingertips over a soft, pastel blue scarf. He studies it a moment, noting the personal touch to it that couldn’t have been store bought, and when it clicks, he gingerly takes it in his hand and lowers the box on her desk. “Did you make this?”

“I’ve been practicing,” she beams as he wraps it around his neck and reaches around behind his head tie it in place, struggling only slightly until she takes it upon herself to move behind him and straighten it out with a hum. She combs her fingers down his hair to set it back in place, careful not to linger in case her touch makes him uncomfortable, but she can’t help but feel pride in how her son is growing into himself.

“Thank you,” he lowers his head to look at it again, his fingertips pressing into the material lightly, “I’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”

“I trust you will,” she smiles and takes a seat at the edge of her bed. “So are you excited for your trip? What are you looking forward to the most?” her curiosity shows through tired eyes, and part of his eagerness for the small adventure with his friends leads back to having stories to tell her.

“The food,” he answers almost too easily, “and traveling with my friends without having to worry about work or school.” He ponders a moment at the validity of what he’s said but decides to leave it at that for both their sakes. Judging by her cheeriness at hearing the word friends, he’s made the right call to ease her worry.

“I know you won’t if you can help it, but try to take pictures so I can see,” she eyes the shelf where her scrapbooks pile -- another little craft she’d taken up after Fuyumi suggested it. Shouto nods knowing full well Uraraka will take care of it tenfold, and he almost wants to apologize ahead of time for how visibly uncomfortable he’ll probably seem in the photographs.

“If all goes right, we’ll be able to go together,” Shouto holds onto the near future with as much optimism as he can, and it always brings a glimmer of sorrow to his mother’s dark eyes as she casts them down before trying to tag along with his spirit. “Then you can take as many pictures as you want. Promise,” his lips tug into a genuine grin -- albeit, still a little awkward from a shy sentiment -- and she laughs as she wipes her eye delicately.

In my memories, Mom is always crying. Enji is a deplorable bastard, that much is abundantly obvious, and Shouto swears these tears will outweigh the past. It’s a life she never deserved, likely never wanted, yet she did everything she could to support them until her breaking point. Keeping her here all these years rather than letting her move on with her life is a clear sign that there’s no other way around this. If he’s going to rescue her from this place, he’s going to have to confront the monstrous, number-one hero himself.

He contains the resentment, trickles it down until it dilutes into resolve. He’ll take this traveling opportunity to catch up with him, make him listen once and for all. Just his luck that the villain attacks have been pushing his father north in the line of duty. He’ll catch up.

Then, maybe then, he won’t have to regret not accomplishing this sooner.

“I look forward to it, Shouto.”

Even now his knuckles hover before the door in wait of some excuse to turn tail and prolong his visit. Izuku takes a breath, recalls courage forced upon him, and still sees his scarred hand tremble with nerves. If All Might has a guest, then he can get away with taking a seat in the hall; however, in the two minutes he’s stood here, the only sound is his own pulse pounding in his ears. Now or never, he tells himself. With another breath, he finally knocks lightly and hears a creak from the other side. Rather than call out to him to open it, he supposes All Might would rather do it himself.

He isn’t in critical condition or anything.

This is just a precaution, that’s all.

Izuku reminds himself over and over, just like the last visits, and when his skeleton of a mentor opens the door, he swears sunken eyes never brightened so quickly. “Midoriya, my boy! You could have let yourself in, you know,” he places a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, noting the subtle shake and doing his part to quell it.

He nods and closes the door behind them. It takes him a while to really look at All Might in full, but once he does, he’s met with relief that there’s really no difference in his physique than normal. Though, panning over to the bed, he can see a bloodied rag set aside lazily. No use hiding something he’d pull out frequently. His teacher isn’t ignorant to his concerns, and if he could manage his old form to pass himself off as healthy as ever, perhaps he would right now. Instead, All Might has delved deeper into Toshinori Yagi, and Toshinori Yagi just doesn’t have the energy for it anymore.

“You seem more anxious than usual, young Midoriya,” he pulls out the chair from his desk and slides it closer to the bed so he can have a seat while he takes the edge of the bed for himself. “How did exams go?”

“O-oh! They went fine... I’m not particularly worried about it,” he admits as he takes a seat and sets his bag down at his feet. “I don’t think anything could ever top the horror of that one practical portion our first year,” he doesn’t have to get specific for All Might to pull back his hair and let out his own exasperation at the memory. If teaming up with Katsuki Bakugou to fight All Might still in his hero age is the standard for horrible testing experiences, then Izuku’s glad that the worst is far, far behind him. At least now Katsuki isn’t nearly as awful to him, but they don’t need to gossip about other students.

Though anything would probably be nicer than having to confront the issue.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he smiles and resists the urge to reach across and ruffle his pupil’s hair; sometimes impulses were better saved for younger years, he supposes. Despite tension dropping slightly in Izuku’s posture, All Might can tell that there’s something on his mind that he’s trying to put into words rather than mutter them all out. In the past he may have waited longer, but older age has taken away the need. “But there’s something on your mind, hm?”

“Well, yeah,” he trails off and takes a breath before lifting his head again to meet All Might’s darkened eyes. “It’s just… ever since you’ve been here, I’ve been close by so even if I got worried, I could come visit no problem. But knowing I’m going to be gone for almost two weeks makes me worried. I mean, I know I can always call you! And I know you’re not in bad shape or anything! It’s just… different,” he reduces his speech to a mumble, then repeats himself clearer. “It’s different.”

Perhaps inappropriate, All Might laughs into a cough and has to wipe his mouth with that same bloody rag once he’s done. Izuku is at least used to that even when they first met, so he tries to keep that in mind as his shoulders relax a little more. “Young man, I couldn’t beg to be left alone at this point. Between my colleagues, friends, the staff, students, and even your mother, this room is hardly empty.”

“M-mom?! She comes to see you?” he feels his face flush from the surprise and minor dread that she’s perhaps come to scold him about something else. All Might gets another chuckle out of this, but thankfully there’s no further bloodshed.

“That’s right. She won’t let me waste away in here,” he smiles and offers Izuku a thumbs up. “And I don’t plan on it, either. I only agreed to this so no one would stress out and force me.” He recalls an old promise about twisting fate together, and he tries his best to hold onto it.

“I know the feeling,” they share half-smiles and ease into themselves a little more. “Okay then… what’s the first thing you’re going to do when you’re discharged?”

He ponders a moment and leans forward to prop his arms on his legs in poor posture, “I think I’ll see a movie. Maybe even before I head back to my place.”

Izuku can’t help but appreciate how average it sounds. For so long, All Might has been a grand figure in his life, then someone so close and personal, but even now he’s still learning bits and pieces about the person apart from his heroics. All Might -- no, Toshinori Yagi -- likes movies. He almost asks if he used to go in his hero-form in his prime, but he’ll save that for his imagination.

“Actually, I was planning on watching one a little later. But since you’re here, care to join me?” he checks the time to make sure he won’t impose too much, but before he can think any further, Izuku blurts out a confirmation and meets him with eager eyes. All Might could put on one of the worst pieces in cinematic history, but Izuku would appreciate every minute to experience it with his hero. Sometimes he gets a little too wrapped up in his past idolization, and he has to bring himself back to the present. All Might doesn’t seem to mind it at all and laughs as he pulls out his laptop and sorts through his files.

“Have you seen Logan?” when Izuku shakes his head, All Might pulls up the movie and sets it to full-screen before propping it on the end table without stating a premise or anything. He gets a little more comfortable on the bed with his long legs crossed, and his successor angles his chair and accepts the pillow passed to him.

Odd to think of a time before quirks were so prevalent in society, but it makes him recall the first time All Might ever told him about All for One. It seems so long ago, almost like he should have known sooner, but all it does is reaffirm his resolve to take the trip. While they’re vacationing, Izuku has done his research and found an additional stop on the way back. Where it started so many years ago -- he doubts he’ll find anything substantial, but the need for closure guides him back. If he’s to carry the weight of eight other lives, then he should understand the place it began.

It’s a question he won’t ask All Might. This is something to find for himself.

But it can wait. For now, he allows himself to get pulled into the fictional world.

Shouto’s lowered voice is muffled by the door, so when he’s denied a response, he decides to let himself into the dark room. The only light comes from the laptop screen nearly blocked by Midoriya’s frame; he must be so invested that he hasn’t checked his phone. All Might turns to silently greet him and welcome him to join as they reach the final scene of the film. He complies and takes a seat on the edge of the bed behind Izuku, but also next to a pile of crumpled tissues.

He’s quiet out of respect, but Shouto leans slightly to see puffy, green eyes still recovering from a previous cry and on the verge of another. He doesn’t recognize the foreign movie on screen, but he can appreciate out of context action scenes well enough (even if they’re obviously fake). He’ll have to ask what it is later, but for now he sits a little longer until he reads the atmosphere well enough to hear Midoriya’s voice crack as he utters oh-nos and no-don’ts. As if on cue, he dismisses himself and decides to get his very emotional friend and teacher some drinksfrom the vending machine down the hall.

Shouto probably should not have interrupted, he’s realizing. He decides to take a seat on the floor beside the machine and occupy himself with a canned coffee. If Midoriya missed his message, chances are he hasn’t seen the texts from Iida. There’s a separate message from Uraraka asking about extra space in his bag, and he’s just as honest with her as he’d been with Midoriya.

She types, erases, then types again, and soon enough he’s bombarded with shocked emojis and more question marks than he knows what to do with. He sends back the shrug emote despite her obvious concerns about his sleep schedule. Their conversation eventually ends with her telling him to at least work on a checklist for his bag before packing. He agrees with a thumbs-up and shifts to the news app to keep track of any updates.

Nothing concrete yet. He doesn’t know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

After a while, Midoriya messages him back an apology for missing the last few texts. No reason to really dwell on something so insignificant, so he asks if he’s ready to head out. When the other boy tells him that he’s gathering his things, Shouto pulls himself from the floor with the drinks he already bought them and decides to at least tell All Might goodbye.

Cans exchanged, shoulders touched, and red-eyed friend retrieved.

The sky is much darker when they leave the hospital than when they arrived.

The boys return to a far quieter dorm since most of the students had already left for the holidays by the time they come back. Ashido greets them with a drawn out FINALLY as if they’ve all been waiting for something, but her smile nips Todoroki’s blooming apology. Kaminari perks up and practically springs to his feet and motions over to the table, announcing that they can eat, and Kirishima flashes a sharp-toothed grin as the three make their way over to take their seats.

It isn’t until Iida, Asui, and Uraraka come carrying the silverware, pots, and bowls that it clicks, and Midoriya’s face brightens with the promise of homemade cooking to finish off the night as he gives his own cheer to his friends in appreciation for the meal. Everyone raises their glasses in a celebratory toast for having finished up those last assignments, and once the clinks’ echoes fade, they begin digging in with more than enough compliments to their froggy chef.

Asui beams at the sight of her friends enjoying her cooking, and they all linger around in conversation even after their plates are cleared. The first to initiate departure is Iida, suggesting everyone get a good night’s rest before washing his dish and returning to his room. Kaminari, Kirishima, and Ashido verbally defy the warning with plans to have a movie marathon to celebrate their first night of break, and they extend the invite to the others.

Uraraka, and Asui agree to stick around for one movie, but Midoriya believes he’s watched enough cinema for one day after his last cry, so he politely declines. Todoroki doesn’t have time to give a real answer before his friends make his decision for him to pack his bags.

They have an early morning ahead of them, but they all find it a little difficult to sleep.

The sun almost couldn’t rise soon enough,