#you ever get so focused on the mental image of holding hands that you forget how shoulders work???

[whirlwindwonderland]

Scrolling through the Slay the Princess tag, I saw @bubblybloob's Fae Princess route idea and I thought it was real neat, so I decided to doodle up a fake screencap to try and mimic the game style. Good way to kill a morning!

[moyazaika]

PRESQUE VU

♡ ⋮ yandere ‘boyfriend’ x gn reader

cw ☆ it’s going to hurt.

“i don’t blame you, babe.” his fingers are intrusive, but gentle, as he pries your mouth open. his thumb is calloused, and you can feel the rough skin pressing against the soft flesh of your bottom lip and pulling it down with a pinch. “happens to the best of us,” he says, not unkindly. “and besides, i’m here to take care of you, yeah?”

you give him a sorry excuse of a nod, and he smiles at you over his glasses. “i love that, i ever tell you? when you show me you understand me?” he sighs. “i fucking love it.”

you can see your reflection in the glasses. faint, but unbearably noticeable for every last line of desperation. look at you, nodding again; going yes—yes, i understand you.

do you, really?

“see? you’re so good to me.” beyond the image of yourself, you glimpse the twinkle of his approval (and consequently; your assured safety—at least for now) in his eyes. he only wears his glasses in the early mornings and evenings, when he hasn’t got his contacts in yet. and he wouldn’t right now, considering the two of you’d just woken up. “sometimes, i almost think i don’t deserve you.”

you think of something to say, almost immediately. think of the words so fast that you end up losing them—slipping somewhere just out of your reach.

ah, come on—!

you know they’re important. these words, they mean a lot. it’s imperative you recall them; if only so they can leave your lips.

“but then i think,” dawn’s sun is gentle, blurry glow soft through the bathroom window; hitting him so nicely, and bathing the best and worst of him in gold. “who better for me than you?” features you’ve memorised down to the last detail, your inclination to observe and remember vacillating between an obedience rooted in fear and a strange, beautiful sense of duty owed to what could only be an even stranger sort of love. “and who better for you than me?”

please come back. what were you going to say? it’s—it’s right there, you know it is and you just—what was it, again?

you need to remember. these are very important words that must be said—!

“and no matter how many times i ask myself these two questions,” his other hand, just as rough and warm, squeezes the rolled up toothpaste onto the wet, bent bristles of his toothbrush. it’s a fresh white with specks of bright blue. “the answer is always the exact same. and isn’t that absolutely beautiful?”

he carefully cradles your face with one hand, the other holding the toothbrush by its hilt—or is it called a handle? a body? these autonomous concepts are far beyond your understanding. you perceive even the most mundane object in the only way you know how which is only the one way you’ve been taught to live by.

(hurt.)

but that’s not what you were looking for. no, you’re losing yourself—going off track. you frown, dig deeper. it’s frustrating and you hate the feeling.

you were going to say something—you had to be careful of what you said; speak up only if you’d thought what you were going to say through very carefully—

and here was something you’d thought to waste your few precious words on; only to forget—!

“don’t get lost in your head, lovely.” you blink. look up to find him watching you expectantly.

you realise with a sinking feeling that you’ve been gone for longer than you’d managed to catch. you don’t let that happen too often, nowadays. and for good reason. you immediately make a mental note beneath his curious gaze not to let it happen again.

“there you are. hi, darling. i really hate when you leave me like that.”

you’ve learnt to be attentive and observant, attuned to his every desire—and truthfully, as he often asks you when his mouth is sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck; are they really that different to yours?

so when you notice that his eyes are focused on your lips, instinctively, you part them with a shuddering breath; stand right on your tippy toes and slide your palms up, up, up his body and right over his shoulders—

“oh,” you’re knocked off kilter when his chest, as warm and strong and unyielding as ever beneath your pliant hands, reverberates with unexpected low laughter. you take a step back, but you can see in the reflection of his glasses that he sees it as a stumble; the falter of shame at him having caught your hand in a metaphorical cookie jar. “oh, poor baby. i wasn’t—”

he straightens. catches his breath to wipe a tear from his eye. “oh, darling. you thought i was going to kiss you?”

you stammer, pathetically, hopelessly; only end up looking like even more of a fool when the uncertain edges of an excuse in the back of your mind fail to solidify into something sharper; something that would cut and sink and stay under his skin.

it’s not your fault. really—! you’re just trying to remember those words you’d lost a second ago—where did they go?

he watches with great, quiet amusement as the words continue to evade you, despite your best efforts. eventually, your jaw falls slack and the cat really has got your tongue and even though you know the cat is right around the corner you can’t—can’t quite reach it to get the words back—when they were only just here one second—

“hey. that’s alright.” he squeezes your cheeks together with one hand, and you forgo any last, sad attempt at trying to talk. “i know, baby. i got you. i get it. you understand me, and i understand you. that’s how this works. you don’t have to explain yourself.”

the words in your head are getting closer. clearer. you can feel it; are acutely aware of the fact that you’re on the brink of a breakthrough. monumental for yourself, to know what to say for today, but worth very little to him.

“i’m sorry for laughing. you’re just so cute. i promise i’ll give you a kiss after, okay? i’ll give you all of the kisses you want, darling.” you nod again, more desperate this time. you want him to think back on this morning and remember his glowing success at solidifying your obedience rather than your own spectacular failure at defying him. his grip loosens, hands slide down to your chin—a finger tapping against your jaw with expectation. “but only if you can go back to showing me you’re listening. makes sense?”

it’s very important that you show him you’re listening. very important not to lose yourself in your own head.

“alright, darling. be patient, okay? this is going to sting for a bit. might hurt you a little. so hold onto me if you need, but do not,” he smiles softly, “even think about pulling away. alright?”

the last time you’d lost yourself in your head had also been the first.

you remember, still, looking up at him through your lashes the same way you are now. though, then, you’d been crying. you could afford to do that, before—wave the markers of resistance around like a white flag. it should have been easy; you’d surrender physically—but you wouldn’t really be there mentally. thought that would make the violating ordeal easier to bear.

he’d caught on, of course. the minute your eyes glazed over and your jaw went slack. he hadn’t even pushed his fingers (still slick from your arousal) past your lips—he rolled his eyes. muttered something to himself and got up, instead. you chose not to come back just yet; fearing he’d just return any second now and try again.

from somewhere far away, you’d heard the whistle of the kettle; both at once a shrill scream and yet as silent as a whisper, over the sound of his restless pacing in the kitchen, and then the strangely quiet steps down the hall again.

“you want to zone out when i’m speaking to you, baby?” he’d cooed. pulled out your tongue, pinched between his thumb and forefinger—warm skin unbearably uncomfortable against the wet, squirming muscle that he yanked further out of your mouth. you were there, now, physically and mentally—because you’d seen the kettle in his hands.

“darling, if you think i’m going to just let you check out on me,” he flippantly spoke over your screaming and thrashing, his knee on your chest was painfully digging into your ribs. your body was shaking violently. his hands were as steady as his gaze. eyes trained on your mouth, just like now. “then you don’t know me at all, and that’s very disappointing. so i thought,” he said casually, lips curling into something sweet. “maybe i should show you exactly what sort of man i am. just so you know not to ignore me, again. just so you remember to pay attention.”

and when you screamed again, he’d silently tipped the spout of the kettle over, fingers loosely wrapped around the hilt—and down, down, down had the boiling water gone; spilling straight into your mouth and right onto your poor little tongue.

so today, on this slow morning where the sun hasn’t even risen yet and the stars are still out in the sky, you listen very closely to what he says.

he lines the toothbrush up against your teeth. “open your mouth for me, baby. a little wider.”

you obey.

“that’s perfect, love. come just a little closer, will you? tilt your head up.” he kisses your nose. “good job, baby. now stay still.”

he’s looking down at you through his glasses with a quiet intensity, focused entirely on the task at hand. he still looks golden in the light of the rising sun.

the warm hand holding your jaw in place is soft and his movements are careful as he moves the bristles of the brush over your every tooth with a gentle affection.

he is cleaning you, helping you heal when he takes the utmost care not to let the brush he wields touch your tongue for even the barest moment; the muscle is lying uselessly limp, slack and scarred in the cavern of your mouth—heavier now from the burden of an unspoken confession.

because the words that had been just out of reach have come back to you as quick as they’d first disappeared. in a second, you almost stumble beneath the weight of them; the burden of needing to blurt out what you’ve worked so very hard to get back; something you need to say because you looked for it and found it and you need to tell him. you need to speak. let it out—

say it—!

but you can’t.

so because you can’t quite speak again just yet, even though he does his best not to make it hurt for you any more, you look up and smile at him; sweet, eager, and bright.

his lips curl. you glimpse the approval in his gaze. let yourself feel safe, again, in his hold as he presses another kiss to your nose. “i got you, baby. don’t even need to use your words for me to understand you. i know you already. like i said, nobody better, yeah?”

you can’t tell whether he’s referring to you or himself, so you stay very still as he continues brushing your front teeth, positioning your head at different angles as he makes sure to get every tooth. spends extra time on your canines, you notice.

“we’re going to have such a beautiful day, darling. i think i’m going to love you very kindly today. want to show you that i can be nice, baby. how’s that sound, hm?”

and even though you can see in the reflection of his glasses that despite his careful efforts, your gums are bleeding from the bent bristles of the toothbrush, the blood having mixed with the toothpaste, now staining your teeth a soft, foamy pink; because you won’t quite be able to say it just now—

it’s all you can do to split your lips into a grin and hope he understands.

[ashperiences]

Exploring, is it good? is it bad? Will it take you nearly two decades and 2 re-releases to actually finish this even though you were really into it every time?

Loved this little bundle of horrors, was going oooh at every new floor gimmick almost the whole way.

Getting myself a steamdeck drew me instantly back into the Labyrinth scribbling on the screen and running from enraged deer. There's a really gripping purity to this one that I don't think the later ones have matched, the amount that it allows its own quietness to hold it up is really admirable I think.

The arts evocative, the town does just enough to feel like a place and the obsessive explorer mentality is fed just enough little worldly connections to feel like you're part of some real process. Even little annoying things like forgetting an ariadne thread or switching your landsknecht between her axe and sword for different scenarios just feel like a connection to all the small maintenance and moments and expertise of taking on a profession.

Great and simple example of mechanics telling stories, illustrated perfectly in realising how you remember those desperate mad at yourself struggles back to the surface more than you ever would the successful instant teleport escapes.

All the room you have to get pulled into imagining your little guys internality or lose yourself in the flow of explore, discover, become stronger, push further mindset of it all pays off wonderfully towards the end too.

For all the simplicity on the face of this thing - just a dungeon crawler, just a few npcs to run into occasionally, a world of menus and dungeon tiles, kill monsters get stronger kill more monsters etc. I don't know that I've ever had a game make me so hesitant to accept a mission that I just left the menu and spent ages just wandering around trying to will an alternate path into existence or otherwise just avoid going back and acknowledging what I have to do to continue.

The way it takes your joyful explorer conditioned brain and your attachment to your imaginary friends and stamps on it is so sick. To progress you have to do something horrible, you're free to not accept the mission of course but once you do your image of all this becomes so immediately warped. It's honestly incredible because despite how jarring it is you can't say it isn't a logical progression.

The game takes the logic of killing as a profession and the drive to push on no matter your obstacles in the name of discovery and mastery and makes you confront the banality of actual cruelty that just stems from going with the flow, focusing on nothing but your own goals or just following orders.

The shock of it hits really well, the desire to reject it melting gradually into beleaguered acceptance that your party isn't who you thought they were, the knowledge that you are going ahead with this because you just need to know what lies beyond it, that your mindset as a player aligns with the force driving the adventurer (much as in real life) to atrocity lest they have to stop being who they are.

The game honestly barely lingers on it, to the men handing out these orders and their society this is another non-event, yet another successful expedition and victorious fighters. Its that coldness and suddenness that makes it work so well, the games not going to confront you with a moral question or judge you, mechanically it'll celebrate you even, but it knows that and it knows what it's asking you to do. Just like with your imagined characters the world of the game is willing to let you process and explain your own journey.

Hauntingly coldly present, left unjustified and uncommented on you are left only with dealing with the jarring disconnect between the fun low stakes heroism and the choice to quit or confront what a soldier for hire and a mastery of violence is ultimately for. Its one of my favourite little moments in video games and I think the people who quit the game cus they can't bear to go on with it are a real proof of its ability to tug on the players imagination. It's something that almost forces you to role play, every player reaction fits in as a part of the story. It never needs to harp on about big choices or morality, it doesn't need you to be important, it's your lack of freedom and the world's lack of interest in your dilemma that make it land.

It's evil as just another job to do going with the flow of the role you've found instead of evil as big decisions and uncomplicatedly powerful people's good or bad intentions.

While the game doesn't make much direct commentary, content to communicate without words, what it does go on to tell you is that your actions ultimately bring about the slow end of your own people too, dragons dogma ending style stuff about wrenching all the content out of a game leaving you in a lifeless world presented a little more economically.

I guess the true success of this one is that it left me just thinking about all the ways my party would've fallen apart, drifted into other things, ended up damaged people and etc. left as I was in the gap made in a world that allowed us to follow strength to its conclusion and never punished us with anything but our own quiet guilt.

Left to imagine those funny kids conditioned into killers and how everyone just gets away with it, how easily horror can be rendered down to just banal acceptance and how simple it is to push someone forward by offering something as a matter of course not to be thought about. Accept. Decline.

I love it, fuck that ice dragon also.

[behindyourbarrette]

Star Light, Star Bright

summary: The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it’s really easy to tell someone how you feel when you’re under a starry night sky. 

pairing: spencer reid/reader

category: fluff, start to finish

warnings/includes: mention of food, a mild burn

work count: 4.1k

a/n: this is my fav thing i’ve written in a HOT SECOND. enjoy! pls reblog if you feel inclined, it helps me out a ton!

check it out on ao3

---

You’ve never found chicken pox to be more of a miracle.

In truth, you are a little saddened that Jack’s Boy Scout troop all got sick and their camping trip had to be postponed. This does not change the fact that you’re elated at the opportunity to nab Hotch’s campsite reservation. The team jumped at the chance for a vacation, the promised long weekend only truly promised in places without cell service.

You pick Spencer up early, the first of many people you’ve offered to drive out to the mountains. After tossing a very heavy-sounding duffel bag into your trunk, he clambers into the passenger seat. He strikes you as a little nervous—he won’t quite look at you as you wind your way out of D.C and towards the countryside.

“I’ve never been camping before, actually.” He says it quietly, mid-conversation about Boy Scouts and the safety of camping with children. There’s a 5-mile radius around Quantico where work is the only thing you can really think about. As you turn onto the highway, hands flexing against the wheel, you’re glad to be free of the office.

“Really? Never?”

It makes sense, the longer his sentence sits on your tongue. Vegas isn’t the most hospitable environment to camp in. You make a mental note to thank your parents for raising you on the East Coast, where the forests are frequent and the soil is actually fertile.

“Yeah. I’m not sure, I’m, uh, really suited for it.” You look at him now, the slight sadness in his eyes, and there are a thousand things you’d like to say. Instead, you reach across the center console, squeezing his hand in yours. Before he can say anything, you’ve returned your hand to the wheel, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

---

You’ve lived in Virginia for a few years, but somehow you’ve never found it this breathtaking. You have no idea how you got roped into driving, given that Derek and Emily usually take the wheel, but you’re far from complaining. As you wind through the forest, the canopy of leaves casting a filter of sunshine over the ground, you’re left speechless. The trees part in favor of the dirt road, and you find yourself absorbed in the surplus of green and foliage as you drive.

“There’s over 15,000 acres of this. It’s the largest protected land preserve in the tri-state area.”

You turn your head to watch Spencer murmur, still absorbed in a book. For the first time, you notice that he’s wearing a polo shirt and a beanie that Penelope knit him for Christmas. The whole sight is so...un-Spencer like that you’re torn between finding it endearing and concerning. You gulp down everything you want to tell him, swallowing all of the unidentifiable feelings in your throat.

“I’m excited. I love camping. My dad used to take me here all the time.” He perks up at this, and closes his book. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You steal a quick glance at the backseat, where Penelope and Derek have fallen asleep.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You have Spencer’s attention now. He nods so vehemently you laugh, tearing your eyes away from his in favor of focusing on the road.

“I wanted to be a park ranger when I was younger.” You’re only a little embarrassed of this; the jump from environmentalist to federal agent is just laughable enough to warm your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widen.

“Really? How did you—I mean, when did you decide to be a—actually, I take it back. Hugging trees is beneficial for your health, after all.” He smirks, and you reach out to punch him on the arm. He rubs the spot absently, a grin forming on his face as your blush deepens. You try to portray yourself to the team as someone who’s a little tougher than the little girl who cried when she found out that people litter in National Parks. With Spencer, it’s different. Still, you can’t bank on what he will or won’t tell Derek.

“If you tell anyone, I will kick your ass. Forget it.” You get the sense that you are not going to live this down. To your advantage, it’s Spencer who blushes this time, his cheeks warming a delicate pink.

“I can’t forget it, actually. I have an eidetic—ow!”

---

The campsite is glorious.

Or, as Penelope would put it, rustic. It’s the perfect happy medium between the forest and the lake nearby, with a trail leading to the beach just a few feet from the site. The trees filter out just enough sun so that it’s pleasantly warm out. There’s ample space for a few tents, and a bear locker. You’re seated at a picnic bench with the girls, unloading the food and cooking supplies as the boys attempt to put together tents. From what you can see and hear, it sounds like Derek is muscling his way through it, much to Spencer and Hotch’s chagrin.

“You’re glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Emily nudges you in the side, a sly smile on her face as she screws the propane line into the campstove. You flush, and shrug your shoulders.

“I love camping. I’m just excited to be here with you guys.”

Penelope reaches across the table to hug you. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: you don’t think you’ve ever seen bedazzled hiking boots before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“You know, I’m surprised Spence came. He normally skips out on these kinds of things.” JJ looks back at you from the bear locker, where she’s stacking cans of soup and Hotch’s cooler. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but you look towards Spencer before she can say anything else. He’s managing to put up his tent surprisingly well; he’s only struggling with the final few posts as he stumbles around the uneven ground. You turn back to JJ, shrugging.

“I mean, I think he can appreciate the outdoors. He’s probably read Walden.”

Emily laughs, and you feel as though the conversation has finally let up. JJ has a point, but as soon as you had asked Spencer if he was coming, he had agreed. He doesn’t look particularly out of place, either. Over the course of the past hour, he’s somehow inherited a pair of sunglasses and a red flannel. You look away, pursing your lips.

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Derek calls, waving his arm to catch your attention. There are now five small tents, only a little crinkled and trampled over. Emily nods in approval, nudging one of them with the tip of her boot. It only shakes a little.

“Good job, guys. They look...structurally sound.” Hands on your hips, you bend to inspect the guys’ handiwork. Spencer winces as you tug on a tent’s zipper, and it whines in protest. You shrug, smiling as you straighten.

“We should check out the lake.” Derek gestures to the blue expanse of water in the distance, and Penelope squeals. You hear the sound of metal clinking together, and turn.

It’s Hotch, holding what you assume to be a fishing pole. While this should be very surprising, you can’t come up with anything funny to say. Emily makes a joke about the catch of the day, and Hotch doesn’t laugh.

“Are there canoes involved? I didn’t bring a suit.” JJ asks, arms crossed over her chest. You nod, pointing to the rental shack on the eastern side of the lake.

“You guys ready to get some sun?”

---

“You look cute in hiking boots, princess.” You should not find this as funny as you do. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek definitely had Penelope apply some sort of oil to his biceps while they were in a tent; there’s no way that he just naturally glistens like that. You squint up at him, shrugging your shoulders. While your outfit is a little unorthodox—you remembered to bring a bikini, but forgot water shoes—it’ll work just fine. Spencer enters your peripheral vision, wrinkling his nose in Derek’s direction. You resist the urge to smile at this.

“Spence.”

You get his attention, catching up to him in just a few steps. The beach is pretty, lacking in sand but perfectly cool and sunny. He’s wearing too-big sunglasses and, surprisingly, Bermuda shorts. You trudge along the rocky path, handing him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come on, I need your help. Sunscreen me.”

He seems shocked, fiddling with the bottle. You turn your back to him, raising your arms as you walk backwards, waiting to hit him before you stop.

“Is sunscreen a verb?” His voice is a little hoarse, and you smirk.

“Would you prefer lotion? Massage?” You tease, and you can practically feel him tense up.

“N-no, I wouldn’t. Hold your hair up.”

You oblige, and it takes everything in you not to sigh as he rubs the cool sunscreen into your back. He has really, really big hands and nimble fingers. Biting your lip, you conjure a mental image of them. You feel a little silly for imagining his hands when he’s right there, but you don’t want him to stop touching you. He coats your skin, movements deft and purposeful. You turn, reaching for the bottle.

“Take off your glasses. Your turn.” You like being a little bossy; he flushes as you reach up to spread the lotion across his cheeks, dabbing gently. He exhales slowly, relaxing into your touch.

“Let’s go. You’re my canoe buddy.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and an evil part of your brain wonders how it would feel to kiss it. The thought is gone before you can act on it, though, and you wave him towards the shore. He stands still, lingering by the campsite.

“I was going to read on the beach, actually—”

“Nope. Come on! I need a partner.”

—-

The lake is cool, and you make yourself busy by being a very unhelpful canoeing partner. Spencer is rowing surprisingly well, scooping water from below and propelling the boat forward. You, on the other hand, are focused on stretching out in the boat. The sun is deliciously warm on your skin, and the occasional splash of water is heaven to the touch.

“You know, there are two sets of oars. We’d get the most momentum if you rowed, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll row. I’m not any good at it, though. That’s why I needed a partner.” You pat him on the shoulder affectionately, reaching for the other oar. The motion tips the canoe forward a little, and panic flashes across Spencer’s face.

“Don’t do that again. I do not want to end up in this lake. Do you know how many bacteria are in most man made lakes? You don’t want to know.”

You are many things, but you are not a quitter. Testing the waters, you lean forward again as you row, a little out of sync with Spencer’s strokes.

“Please don’t capsize,”

Hotch calls out from the shore, and Spencer shoots you a look as if to say listen. You shrug, continuing to row and occasionally shifting your weight. The look on his face is worth it.

“You know how to swim, right?”

You ask, voice low and as inconspicuous as you can manage. This backfires—Spencer turns around to shake his head, unbalancing the boat. He lets go of his oar, tightening the strap on his life vest. You cling to the sides, laughing as you try to steady the canoe.

“Not funny. You know, boating related accidents are incredibly common.”

His voice drifts off as Derek and Emily’s boat passes by. Their sportsmanship is admirable; they’re working as a perfect unit, quickly propelling their canoe forward with quick rowing and a lot of effort.

Spencer is scolding you half-heartedly when you get caught in their wake. You couldn’t have steadied the boat if you tried; and before you can react the canoe is upside down and you’re cast into the cool blue.

“I’m going to contract a brain-eating amoeba.”

Spencer coughs, bobbing to the surface. You emerge a few moments later, laughing, and reach for him.

“Worth it. You have plenty of brains to be eaten, genius.”

You watch him try to contain his smile the entire way to the shore.

---

You’re drying off as the sun sets, splashes of pink and purple coating the sky. It’s incredible; over the lake you can see the entire expanse of fields and forest, laid out like a painting.

“You guys brought food, right?”

Emily calls out from the picnic bench. She’s toweling off, sunglasses in her hair as she jokes with Morgan. You nod, turning back to Spencer.

He’s thoroughly drenched. You feel a little guilty for tipping the boat over; he’s spent a decent amount of time wringing out his clothes, and as night falls a chill builds in the air. After pulling a jacket on, you toss him a towel.

“That was fun.”

Your eyes widen a little, genuine surprise lodging itself in your throat. He takes in the look on your face, smiling lightly.

“Better than reading on the beach?” You offer, but this is too good to be true.

“Marginally.”

You frown, suppressing a smirk as you catch the scent of propane drifting through the air. You both head in the direction of the camp stove, where Hotch is fiddling with the gas tank.

“That looks...unsafe.” Spencer mutters, brow furrowed.

Hotch shoots him a look, and you both back off in favor of finding Morgan and Garcia, who are attempting to start a bonfire.

You don’t expect this to happen.

Spencer is arguably your best friend. He’s been there for you through thick and thin. For better or for worse, you’ve had each other. This trip was supposed to be unifying, and a small part of you had even hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’d give you the bravery to say what you’ve been thinking for a while.

“I cannot believe you intentionally burn your marshmallows.”

Spencer is looking at you like you’ve committed a crime; you are very familiar with this expression, but being on the receiving end of it is new. Thankfully, you’re ready to defend your stance to near-death. A somewhat maniacal grin on your face, you stab another marshmallow onto a skewer and shove it directly into the fire.

“I’m with Pretty Boy on this one. That’s just cruel. It doesn’t even heat it all the way through.” You scowl in Derek’s direction, turning back to your now on-fire marshmallow. You pull it out of the flame, watching it sear as the group murmurs in distaste. It only took three hours to start a fire, and by that time Emily had managed to heat a can of soup on the campstove. Spirits were relatively high, all things considered.

You watch in wonder as the marshmallow curves, melting just how you like it. Before you can stop it, it falls straight down onto your leg.

“Shit. That’s like, on fire.”

You say, your voice rising in pitch and volume as it becomes increasingly clear that not only is the marshmallow very, very hot but it is not coming off. The group springs into unsure action, voices loud and panicked as you push away from both your chair and the fire. The physics of melting sugar be damned, Derek manages to scrape it off with his skewer, and you’re left with a very attractive hole in your pants and a patch of tender skin.

“How do you love camping?” JJ asks, eyes wide as she watches you brush yourself off. Stabbing another marshmallow onto your skewer, you shrug.

“It’s all part of the fun.”

This time, you don’t set your marshmallow on fire. You mimic Spencer, who is carefully rotating his marshmallow. There has to be a system for what he’s doing; he’s laser-focused on the fire, his entire face lit up by the flickering red and orange light. You lean in, and before long you fall into a rhythm of roasting a marshmallow to golden-brown perfection, then pressing it into a graham cracker. Emily is incredible at assembling s’mores, and by time the fire is just a few crackling embers everyone has a little chocolate smeared over their faces.

“I’m really glad we did this.” JJ’s voice is just above a whisper. She’s leaning against Emily, the two of them sharing a blanket as the fire slowly fades. Hotch nods sagely, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s nice. A break. Some fresh air. Trees.” You gesture to the forest around you, unable to contain a sheepish grin. When you look to your right, Spencer’s smiling too. Penelope squeezes your hand. As you watch the last log burn into ash, you wonder how you got so lucky.

---

Later, everyone is too tired to stargaze.

This fact wounds you deeply. Stargazing is your favorite part of camping; there is absolutely nothing that parallels the experience of driving away from the city and looking up into the constellations. To your dismay, everyone is in their tents by the time it’s dark enough to see the winks of light overhead.

You begrudgingly get ready for bed; stepping around the campsite, it’s clear to see that everyone has mostly turned in for the night. Derek and Penelope’s tent is dark. Emily, Hotch, and JJ are all snoring at varying volumes. Spencer’s light is on; you can see his shadow, leaning over to peer at a book. You brush your teeth, swatting bugs away as you stumble towards your tent.

You manage to spend thirty minutes in your tent before you lose your patience. This entire camping trip has been a dream; no work, no cell service, and the people you care about. You’ll be damned if you let it pass you by without checking absolutely everything off your list. You step, a little wobbly, towards the front of your tent. You tug the zipper open, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

On shaking legs, you tug your hiking boots on, the evening cold nipping at your ankles. Despite your attempts to lessen the noise, you watch Spencer’s shadow waver.

“Spence!” You stage-whisper, praying to every deity you can think of that he’s awake and the rest of the team isn’t. To your immediate relief, you watch him tug the zipper of his tent down and emerge, swatting at a few lingering mosquitoes. He looks a little cold; his cheeks are pink and he’s rubbing at his arms. The sight of him in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants is more endearing than you’d expect, and you exhale to clear your head.

“What’s going on?”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and you point to the sky. He takes a cursory glance up, and you watch his jaw fall slack as he takes in the starry skies.

“Come on. We can see better from over there.”

You wave him towards the beach. You know exactly where you’re headed; while you’ve never camped in this specific spot, you know how to reach your favorite place to stargaze. Spencer looks at you with something between curiosity and admiration as you lead the way with a flashlight. The forest is still awake and responsive at this hour, crickets chirping and leaves rustling as you step through the greenery.

You find it quickly; the boardwalk is unmistakable. It’s a field, like the ones you’ve been surrounded by all day. Spencer identifies the leaves as rhubarb plants as you step onto the wooden pathway. While any field would work, this one is ideal; the sky opens up as far as the eye can see, the trees parting to admire the world above.

“Here.” You turn off your flashlight, allowing your eyes to adjust to the low, blue moonlight. Spencer follows you as you crouch, laying with your back to the boardwalk. This is what you came for.

“Oh my God.” Your face splits into a grin once you hear Spencer’s voice, low and gravelly against your ear. The sky above is endless; all you can see is the expanse of the stratosphere, stars bright and darkness vast over your heads. You tear up a little; you always do. It feels like the universe is leaning down to meet you in the middle, pressing its face to yours.

“Tell me what you see. I know that you know what we’re looking at.”

You scoot a little closer, trying to absorb a little of his warmth. Eyes still fixed on the sky, Spencer begins.

“There’s so little light pollution. I...I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” His eyes narrow a little, and you watch as he absorbs the world above him.

“That’s Orion.” He points to a collection of stars to your left, a few brighter than the others.

“Those three in a row, that’s his belt. You might be able to see his bow, too, to the right.

The brightest one is six hundred and forty light years away. Betelgeuse.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and you follow his every word. You can see the warrior above you, the stars winking at you as Spencer describes them.

You fall quiet after a few minutes, and the only sound is that of your slow, synced breaths. You feel as though Spencer has peeled the sky open and revealed it to you; with him, you can see another world entirely.

“We’re looking into the past right now.”

You turn to look at him, a laugh ready to bubble past your lips. You look back up at the sky, where he’s pointed to the Big Dipper.

“That’s Dubhe. We’re seeing light from before we were born.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek and cooling before it reaches your nose. There is so much you would like to tell him before you are both light, visible in this moment from somewhere far away.

As you stare up into the starscape, you gasp. There’s a shooting star, dragging across the Pleiades and heading towards the western skies.

“Make a wish,” You breathe. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out to Spencer, lacing your fingers together. Turning your head, you watch as he grins up at the sky. His features are softer when drenched in moonlight; the slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw all bathed in a dreamy quality.

After the shooting star winks out, trailing across the dark and blinking into nothing, the silence feels heavier.

“What did you wish for?”

You’re sure that he can hear your heartbeat. The steady thrum of your heart against your ribcage is a drum, urging you forward. You watch his brow knit in consideration, before his gaze finally meets yours. His eyes are more hazel than you’ve ever noticed, each fleck of gold striking you as a star.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

His voice is soft, laced with something solemn beneath the surface. You nod, stealing a glance at the sky before you swallow your fear.

"I wished for you." You say quietly.

You don’t know who moves first, only that there’s a brief shuffle before you’re holding each other. He reaches to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your lips. Your hands ghost over his jaw, trailing down his neck as he laces his fingers into your hair. You can’t quite breathe, nor think, only repeat a simple refrain over and over, a prayer passing over your lips and into the dark.

Spencer.

---

The sun rises lazily, pink and orange brushstrokes against a blue sky. You’re awake early—to put it lightly, Spencer’s tent is cramped—and it feels good to breathe in the morning air. The team is still asleep, a few yards away as you stretch and take in the cool dawn.

You think maybe, this is all a dream. You’re not sure how else this would exist, so perfectly and wholly true. The universe is a benevolent thing, after all. There is no other explanation for Spencer Reid, the man the world got right.

“You have pancake batter in your hair,” You say, a little mournfully but still laughing. Still layered in jackets and hats, you feel as though you’re being warmed from the inside out. Spencer’s eyes widen, and he reaches up with a batter-covered hand to feel his hair. You laugh again, a little too loudly this time, and he shushes you between chuckles.

The campstove is quiet, the gas running blue as Spencer flips a pancake over. You neglected to tell him that folding the pancake mix in slowly would prevent...explosions. If you had warned him, you wouldn’t have the chance to kiss the flour off of his face, smiling against his cheeks. With a mittened hand, you brush the powder off of his eyelashes.

“Chocolate chips, right?”

You smile, nodding. He remembers how you like your pancakes. Turning away from him, you rifle through a storage bin for something you packed.

“Are you looking for syrup? It’s over here.” He calls, his voice soft against the hushed sounds of morning. The birds have begun to chirp, calling to each other in alternating duets. You shake your head, and present him with a contraption.

His eyes light up, and he looks at you with something a little wild and entirely resembling devotion. You reveal with your other hand a bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop near your house, grinning up at him.

“I can’t believe you brought me a French press.”

You grin, turning your face as your cheeks burn. Maybe you had hoped this would happen, in slightly different words. After you both tuck into your pancakes, leaning over a plate on the same side of a picnic bench, you watch the sunrise. A bundle of puffy jackets and intertwined hands, you press your back into Spencer’s embrace.

As you watch the moon recede into the horizon, you hope that your past is standing hand and hand, gazing at you fondly.

[rainpudding]

Hi! Can i request k and i for childe?

ANGST ALPHABET | CHILDE

kidnapped injury

note; i already did injury in Childe's fluff alphabet (link here) but because this is angst let's imagine the injury is fatal

tw; few sentences mentioning toxic obsessive behavior; yandere! blood and injury

K idnapped - the reader is kidnapped/missing

Childe is usually on missions very far from home. And when he didn't see you for a while he is very pouty and excited to cuddle you. When he finally gets out of work It's usually very early morning or late at night. He opens the door of your shared home and makes tea. Then gets into comfy clothes and finally opens your shared bedroom. He thinks you're already in deep sleep under many blankets. So when he finally gets under covers and reaches his hand to the pile of blankets. He only finds cold space. The sheets don't have your body warmth, they are cold.

♡

Childe would get super paranoid. For how long was he away? You could already leave him. But when did you leave? Was it an hour ago? A day maybe a week. Or is it a month? He looks around. Your clothes and bags were there. Yet the furniture was covered in dust. The bathtub was filled with cold water. The food that remained in the kitchen had mold on top.

Childe's heart is shattered. His chest tight it hurts. He feels dizzy and he feels sick. He can't do anything but blame himself. His body shakes violently. Eventually, he would calm himself down. And after few hours of looking through your things, it was clear you were forced to leave. All of your things stayed where they belonged.

He seeks help from Zhongli. He calls Traveler and even orders fatui agents to look for you. Childe would grow more and more depressed and obsessed with the idea of finding you. Spending days in his room putting non-sensical clues together. These boards with photos and papers connected with red strings.

He doesn't sleep, he thinks. He stares onto the board talking to himself and laughing in despair. It drives him crazy. He drinks coffee and doesn't talk to people. Those who try to help him get pushed away. Fatui agents that try to bring him to the reality of not finding you get executed.

He kills for fun, he drinks alcohol and smoke. It's a never-ending cycle of torture. Hope that he will be in your embrace again. He is desperate. He doesn't remember your face anymore. He forgets your name. But he still looks for you. He gets aggressive and angry at people who disagree. He went to sleep with scenarios of you and him. He is slowly losing himself. He slowly loses a sense of reality.

But let's say he found you :D

there are two ways it would go

1) he finds you before he gets mentally ill

He would be happy and pepper your face with kisses. Holding you for hours and cuddling you inhaling your scent. He would make sure you're alright and he would buy you anything you would touch. Eventually, everything would go back to normal.

2) he finds you with his corrupted mind

He would grow obsessive. Holding you that much it hurts, squeezing you not letting you go. He would buy handcuffs and alarms and cameras. Nobody will ever tear you apart. Not again. You have a strict schedule. You even have bodyguards. If you try to run away the alarms will alarm not only bodyguards but also Childe who would be aggressive and mad. (Those who played mysme imagine this as Jumin's han bad ending route)

I njury - reader has a fatal injury

Childe likes challenges and fights :0 so if you're dating I can imagine having random challenges or fights. However what if you would have a little more serious fight and emotions would be included. Emotions are like drugs. When we are under them we can't control our behavior.

And as you're dodging his attacks one of his water blades cuts your skin. You feel the pain in your right arm which makes you drop your sword. The blood staining your clothes. And you're quickly pushing pressure onto it trying to back away taking a deep breath.

Childe is still angry at you tho and he continues attacking you. You're nimbly avoiding the hits until you stumble over your leg falling to the cold floor. You hiss in pain feeling growing dizzy from the blood loss. Your eyes growing glossy. Childe is blinded by his emotions that he can't see you struggling. He is only focused on winning.

So you're backing away until you hit the wall. You feel the anxiety wash over you as you can't speak. With fear in your eyes, you look at Childe who is slowly walking to you. His eyes are dead. Without a sparkle. They are blank and bland. Suddenly you yelp as he pulls your hair. He kneels in front of you. His water blade right next to your neck artery. He lightly cuts the top of your skin. It's just a small cut but you still feel the blood running out of the wound. You cry for help but he only slams your head into the wall.

You began to breathe heavily putting pressure on your wound. Tears rolling out of your eyes as you look right into Childe's ones. "P-please Chil-childe yo-you won let me go," you choke between deep breaths.

♡

Childe would shake getting out of the trance his emotions put him into. He panics as he looks at your wounds. One small cut on the neck and one deep on your arm. You already lost a lot of blood and it was by his hands.

 He calls for help and waits in the hospital as they're bandaging you. He takes you to dinner afterward. You reassure him that It's okay, it was a fight after all. He feels like he can never forgive himself. He feels disgusted. He can't look at you for few days. The image of you being hurt, the image of your blood on his hands. It's hunting him. He wakes at midnight in sweat fast breathing. He had a nightmare of killing you. Again. He barely gets sleep. He can't ever get this image out of his head.

Masterlist

Angst alphabet here

[marvelyhp]

Still you

Chapter one: Lion's den

Sypnosis: Y/n decides to help the avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

word count: 3,452

warning: slight mention of sex, cursing.

note: I have this idea for a mini-series but I'm not sure if it will be liked so I guess I'll see where it goes. constructive criticism welcomed :)

Side note: if anyone wants to be tagged, you can leave a comment or message me :)

_______________

My knife pierced the air. A hand grabbed my wrist before I could strike the skin with the blade. The attacker threw me aside, spiraling me around. With my hand still in his grip, my left hand shot out to hit him on the temple. A grunt was heard from what I knew to be a man.

A hand collided with my ribs as they released my right hand. The air in my lungs was momentarily thin when there was pressure behind my knees, causing them to buckle. I refused to go down alone. My hand shot out to grab his neck in the dark, a small smile of triumph emerged on my face as I grabbed it. A mess of grunting and shortness of breath mixed with the sound of our bodies landing heavily on the ground. Rolling over while holding him tightly, I managed to get on top of his heavy build. My legs were spread beside his hips, sighing against the floor as my left hand pressed against his chest to prop myself up. I quickly pressed the kitchen knife in my right hand against his throat. I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on my attacker's face despite the lack of light in the living room.

I was panting when I could place the color on his eyes. Steely blue orbs stared back at me, an emotion I couldn't decipher was shining deep. Sweat ran down his eyebrows and perspiration glistened on his forehead. There I was, staring at the man I'd thought of for two years. I held his gaze, unable to look away and so did he. However, I was the first to break eye contact as my eyes roamed over his face, finally pausing on the lush curve of his lips. They were slightly open, breathing heavily. I hoped to hide how my breath caught, looking away when the images of his mouth doing more than breathing interrupted my mind. I tried to think about everything that had happened to recapture the initial hatred and disdain I felt for the man in front of me two years ago.

I noticed the way his hand was bent in front of our bodies, a clear sign of defeat as he breathed rapidly from the struggle, just like me. I looked into his eyes once more as I thought about the precarious position we were both in. However, I did not move. The trust between him and I had been broken a long time ago, something my body would have to understand. I couldn’t trust him and I would never do so again. Just when I thought we were alone, another voice came from the apartment's voice.

"That's why I told you to go first, Manchurian Candidate. She always had a soft spot for you. See, Romanoff?" Tony Stark's irritating voice invaded my living room. The sound of his voice interrupting the fantasies I was engaging in my head. Annoyance coated my mood knowing who was in the house and the fact that someone else was on the line, listening and probably seeing everything. I so didn't miss this. I flatly ignored any kind of indication that he was standing near me while still staring at Bucky's face. Taking him in for the first time in two years.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confusion and irritation filling my tone. It was mostly irritation since they broke into my apartment, in the middle of the night during the best sleep I've had in a while. Yes, I was definitely annoyed. I looked at James, who was still pinned under the weight of my body. A weight I was sure he could flip at any time if he wanted. I resisted the urge to snarl.

"We came because we need your help." Of course, they did. Why else would they come? I fought the unpleasant feelings that threatened to resurface and just stared at him. His breathing had slowed down from the strain earlier. So did mine. I noticed that our chests were moving at the same rhythm and part of me asked if it had anything to do with us, with how well our bodies knew each other. If they remembered what I thought had happened. I tried to focus on his responses rather than the way his warmth felt against my core, the skin of my thighs, and my hand pressing against his chest. Instead of the way the curve of his body felt against mine. Instead of his lips and the way they felt on my skin, tracing every inch of me. My right hand pressed against his stomach, the feel of his hard muscles and the heat seeping through my skin made me hyper-aware of our position. I mentally slapped myself before letting a humorless laugh escape my lips. I noticed the way his eyes focused on me.

"Why didn't you knock?" I cussed myself. After all this time they come looking for me, just for help and the first thing I tell them is to knock on the door. It was a ridiculous remark because even if they had, I wouldn't have opened the door. I had to give them credit. They remembered quite well how angry I left the compound. On top of that, they remembered enough about me to know that I didn't trust anyone enough to open any damn doors. Well, if I was giving away credits, some could be given to Stark. It was a smart move to put Bucky in the lead because as much as he hurt me, I could never hurt him. Oh, and how I tried that day. I had two years to think about what occurred, to think about everything. I tried to hate him and I failed miserably. I tried to forget it and it never worked. I could never forget that he had been the only one who had not treated me as a threat or maybe he only thought so. He knew what I had been getting off from. Either way, it didn’t matter. Stark would’ve been stabbed for sure.

"Would you have opened it?" The question came in a mocking tone. I became alert when his right hand took mine, pulling the dagger away from his neck. I forbid myself to feel any kind of sympathy when I saw a thin red cut where my dagger had been, a single drop draping at the end. I was ripped out of my thoughts when my breathing hitched. His left hand brushed the bottom of my thigh, hidden out of Tony's sight. My breath caught in my throat as his hand settled on my smooth skin, his fingertips digging into my thigh.

"No, probably not." My voice came calmer than I thought. Even then, I realized that he was out of breath and I hated myself for it. how conscious I was of him. The skin under his palm was burning, a blazing trail following his every move, every touch. The hotness was beginning to spread the more he gripped my skin. My breathing became more and more erratic once his hand started rubbing the outer part.

"Well, that's enough lovebirds." Tony's voice shifted me back to where I was and the situation surrounding us. So, I did what I should have done a while ago. I sprung up from his body, welcoming the cold rush of air I felt cooling the hotness of my skin. The hand he used to rub me was now rubbing the cut on his neck gently. I turned to flick the light, the brightness stinging my eyes for a second before I turned my head towards Bucky.

In a swift movement, he was standing beside me. The ocean of his eyes looking straight into me. Memories of us invaded my brain before a deep disdain grew in my chest. I ignored every emotion that I didn’t understand —neither cared to— swimming in his eyes. I cursed myself as my body still felt flushed with the way he looked at me. A warm sensation pooling in my lower abdomen. I looked away, a scowl creeping onto my face as I laid eyes on Stark´s form. Everything I felt and desired to forget was whisked away by it, my hate for Stark coming in full bloom.

I couldn't help but distort my face in a frown. He had undervalued and underestimated me so many times before I had no more sympathy for the mortal. I never pondered why I had faith he would ever consider me part of his team, of his family. I clearly tried giving too much compassion to the human race.

“You want my help? You?” my finger pointed towards the red and gold suit standing in the corner of my dining space. A snort flew past my lips as a humorless laugh came deep from within my chest. This definitely had to be an emergency. That, or the man was a masochist and he finally discovered what makes him tick after two years.

“Believe me, failed human, I’m not happy about this. However, I do accept you’re the only one, besides Wanda, able to kill enemies with a wider range.” He looked physically hurt to be saying the last part. He had never been good at admitting things about people he never liked.

I kept my face impassive but the truth of how I felt when I heard those words was different. I was suddenly taken back to the times where this was a daily occurrence. Where I was shunned, verbally abused, and not wanted every day. Not only by Tony but by Hydra and just about everyone. I thought about my so-called family back home. About all those times I- I couldn’t even continue. My resentment and hatred for Stark erupted in me, bringing back years of unsaid words and silent tears in the corners. I tried to calm my rapid breathing and the itching in my hands to stab him.

“You can go to hell, Stark.” I stalked off towards the kitchen, knowing if I stood there any longer this would result in a bloodbath. something to create space between us was needed. I let the knife drop with a clank on the sink. I allowed my body to rest against the counter, my hands gripping the edges. Exhaustion made its way quickly through my body though not as heavily as before these days. The alertness and adrenaline in my body numbing the feeling.

“Unfortunately, that’s where we’ll all go if you don’t help us. We need your powers to save the world, falsie. Your time to shine,” his smile was forced and the trust he wanted me to feel was nonexistent. “Oh, and has anyone hinted you look like shit over here? What have you been doing these past two years? Not a glow-up I presume.” The last words were muttered but he knew I would hear because of my god-like abilities.

I was hurt at every word he said but I was mad at myself for letting him affect me. Both feelings moved lively inside me, both wanting attention right this moment. I couldn’t let him see how hurt I was by his words because I knew that was what he wanted. I wondered how his life with Pepper Potts was. But a part of me thought that was irrelevant since he hadn’t liked me since the moment he saw me. His distaste and distrust had been clear since the beginning. He thought he was better, more morally right. Even then, I had never put cared ones in danger, but he had.

As mad as I was, he was right. The bags under my eyes were dark and prominent and they were sign enough of my lack of sleep. Exhaustion had taken a toll on my body. Getting two or four hours of sleep was becoming more and more difficult to withstand. I was aware of how much weight I had lost since I saw them but paranoia wasn't exactly your friend if you were hiding from killers and triggers for your mind. Having to run every few months and hide was becoming tiring. I was mentally and physically exhausted. The desire to tamper with my memories and make me forget became increasingly stronger as days went by but I knew I couldn't. I needed to remember every deed I had done and I needed to remember how I felt while I did it. I felt obliged to suffer for them.

“Fuck you.”

“So touchy,” he sat in the gray chair of the black dining table beside the door. His fingertips stroke the tip of the snake plant in the center of it. I just stared. Hostility irradiated from my person and expanded across the room. The tension in the air strong as a chokehold. “I have deprecating nicknames for everyone. Don’t feel special.” I wanted to punch that fucking denigrating smile right out of his face. He knew what bothered me the most. He knew my insecurities and I felt an instant disdain flare-up in my body towards James. I wanted to punch them but I opted to be more civilized and not act like exactly what he thought I was.

“I didn’t escape Hydra after 60 years so some asshole with an overinflated sense of self-worth could treat me like the scum of the earth. Sorry, metal can but you’ll have to shove your world-saving mission up your ass.” I snapped. So much for acting civilized.

“The kitty’s got claws. Was wondering when they would say hello.” He puckered his lips, a mocking gesture soon followed by the rise of his eyebrows. He looked towards Bucky, wiggling his brows. A whistle interrupted the sudden silence filling the room. Before I could even register, the desire to climb across the counter and smash his face against it flourished in me like poisoned vines. Before I could complete the action, Bucky’s voice reached my ears.

"Y/n, please. Thousands we’ll die if we don’t fight this war. If you don’t help us, we will die.” Bucky stepped closer to the counter, hands resting against the edge.

“What makes you think I will prevent that?”

“Even if we don’t win it, it will lessen the casualties,” his eyes bored straight into mine. “We need you.”

I need you.

The sincerity in his voice and the pleas of help smudged all over his voice softened the raging anger inside my heart. Unsaid words hanged around us like leaves falling from trees, already softening the walls I had built around my heart. Doubts surfaced.

My wish to leave Tony fend for himself battled with the faces of those who defended me at some point in my stay in the Avenger’s tower and while I was on the run with both Steve and Bucky. Steve and Natasha had been weary of me, as I expected they would but they warmed up to me. We were not exactly brothers and sisters but they tried to help. I had thought of them to be friends or something close before I found everything out. Wanda had tried to understand me and be there. She had not been involved in anything. And Vision, he had always been an ally and never doubted my loyalty. He never knew of the plan either. Banner didn’t talk much and T’challa was a friend. Tony was the person that made my life a living hell and turned everyone against me.

I tried to understand him, at first. I thought he was trying to protect his team, his people. I was a potential threat and I understood that but I never implied or acted as though I wanted to hurt them like he made everyone think. Every time he had a chance, he would mention disloyalty or my so-called shady behavior. Yes, I had problems trusting my own mind after Hydra, but I never wanted to hurt the people my brother trusted and the people who gave me a home. I knew what triggered the memories and the episodes of countless tortures, experiments, and missions made for and by Hydra. I was also aware of who I killed and T’challa helped with the rest. He thought my actions to protect myself -and them indirectly- made me a menace.

After some time, I knew I would never win his favor and change what he thought about me. How he saw me. So, I stopped trying too.

A war raged inside me. I felt conflicted. For one, I didn’t know how everyone would react to seeing me after two years, especially when I didn’t leave on the best terms. Two years in which they knew nothing about me and never tried to. It had stung that none of them tried to find me or followed me after I left devastated that night. But Bucky, Bucky hurt the most. I thought he felt towards me or at least cared for me but I was mistaken. I had left hope brew inside me when I shouldn’t have. We all know hope is a dangerous and deadly thing to feel.

I still got over it or concealed it with everything else to forget. I was used to being treated as means to an end since I was born and survived it all. I was not about to let my world crash and burn for a man and some people I lived with. Even then, I didn’t want to return. But if what Bucky said was true, millions of people would die. The Avengers could die and the world needed them. This was bigger than me and everything that had happened with us.

“I have one condition.” My jaw was set and my tone firm, regret already pulsating through me.

“Absolutely not!” Tony’s reply came fast and clashed with a serious “You name it.” coming from Bucky. I looked between them, trying to decide who I wanted to pay attention to first but decide Tony wasn't worth a damn minute of my time. My eyes settled on Bucky’s blue ones, my voice dead serious.

“I don’t ask for trust because I know I will not give any of you the same but I ask to not be doubted,” My voice took a cutting edge but we all ignored it. “I want to be informed of every detail regarding the situation and the mission, just like everyone else. The moment you all know something I don’t. I’m out.” They both knew how serious I was about this. I promised myself I would never subject myself again to what happened two years prior. The feelings of emptiness and low self-esteem I felt were not something I wanted to deal with. Not from people, I swore would never affect me once again. I could very well torture myself but I was not going to let a team led by a buffoon that thought he had me pegged since he saw me make me think I was nothing.

Bucky knew exactly why I asked for this. He knew how I felt and what led to this as he was just as much in the spotlight as I was. I didn’t trust him, not after everything but I knew he wanted to help and right his wrongs so he would keep his word.

“Now wait a minu-“

“You’re right. If you are going to risk your life for us, you have the right to know.” He lowered his gaze. His words felt heavy with something a feeling I didn’t recognize nor wanted to.

“You can’t be serious about this, Cyborg.”

“She’s right, Stark. I’m sure the team will agree.” He looked at Tony sideways, irritation stretched across his face. Bucky’s voice was definitive. The sharp edge in his voice shut Tony up, who rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. I ignored him as I muttered a quick ‘one minute’ and walked to my room. After changing into a black t-shirt and some jeans, I slid on my leather jacket and put on some boots. A bag of clothes and essentials was made quickly before I stepped out of the room.

When I emerged, Tony was sulking like a five-year-old boy beside Bucky while the man shook his head repeatedly towards him. A sigh escaped Bucky as he pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose. I repressed my urge to laugh at the scene in front of me. Once they saw me, both their face recovered and their postures composed.

“Let’s go.” I said nonchalantly, grabbing my keys.

And just like that, I was walking into the lion’s den once more.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #3

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.7k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, BUT THE FLUFF IS COMING DOWN FULL FORCE YA’LL

a/n: don’t forget, I taking your guys’ comments/reactions into account for this series, so please let me know what your thoughts are! of course, at the end we’ll really take a deeper look at all of the dates and what stood out the most, but I would love to hear from you about this one!! love you all, enjoy!

Date #3

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The more time has passed, the more you fully come to realize that if you have been that affected by two dates, you are in no way prepared for the five that remain.

Nope. Not one bit.

It was Thursday when Jungkook finally texted to check that you were free around eleven. Your heart leapt, finally. A date that you wouldn’t have to spend all day moping around waiting for.

So obviously, you were ready by 9. You know, just in case.

You’d been instructed to wear casual clothes, something that you rejoiced in. Donning your sweater with the word Harvard in thick blue letters spanning the front and a pair of skinny jeans, you felt right at home.

The boys never missed a chance to tease you about your Harvard sweatshirt, and for some reason they never believed your lie that you actually went there. Of course, that might be due to the fact that they were very much aware of your current schooling situation and it was most definitely not Harvard.

But hey...attending one of the top universities in South Korea wasn’t bad, either.

Currently you were perched on the end of your bed, partly due to the fact that if you went anywhere else you would most certainly just end up staring out the window at every car that passed by. Not wanting to look like a nosy neighbor, you’d confined yourself to your room to wait out the morning.

In the hours that pass, your thoughts are completely occupied by the two boys you shared the last couple of Saturdays with.

It would be a lie to say that you don’t replay the image of Taehyung standing in your doorway every night as you tried to sleep, his hair a fluffy mess and that cable knit sweater proving to be your doom.

Your thoughts were usually interrupted as you took your bracelet off and stared at it, imagining Hobi delicately placing each individual bead it it’s place. It’s when your hand burns with the memory of his gentle kiss on your palm that you finally set the bracelet down and let out a frustrated sigh.

Yeah...Jimin was wrong when he invited you to just think of these as nice, friendly dates.

He probably knew it, too.

“Ok,” you breathe out, closing your eyes and focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. “Just...enjoy it.”

Enjoy it you shall.

That’s the thing that carries you through the waiting, still just breathing in and out and mentally preparing yourself for all that awaits you today.

You get so carried away in your attempts to calm down that the knock on your front door comes before you realize how much time has passed. Taking one more steadying breath, you get up from your bed and amble down the hallway to the door.

Pausing for a moment, you realize that you truly have no idea who might be on the other side of that door. The thought makes you smile. You’ve always loved a good mystery.

Cracking open the door, you can’t help but smile as the figure before you has their back turned to you. At the sound of your quiet giggle, they turn around, eyes a little wide.

A nervous smile in place, Namjoon leans forward ever so slightly. Almost as though he’s being pulled in by your personal gravity. “Morning,” he says almost as an afterthought, his voice low.

“Good morning,” you respond, throwing the door open the rest of the way. “So you’re lucky number three?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

You busy yourself with grabbing your bag and double checking that you have everything. “What do they say?”

Namjoon shrugs, his nervous smile growing until it’s bordering on giddiness. “Third time’s a charm.”

Indeed.

Once you’ve ascertained that you have everything you’ll need (you made sure to replenish your mint stash earlier this week), you’re stepping out into the slightly brisk air and locking the door behind you.

The sound of keys jingling near your ear has you turning to face Namjoon, who wears an oversized, dark plaid shirt that’s open to reveal his black t-shirt beneath it. The picture of casual coolness, paired with his dark wash jeans and sneakers, the look is complete with the way his dimples poke out as he holds up the keys to your eye level.

“Guess who’s driving?” He teases in a sing-song voice, making you laugh as you swipe the keys from him. As the two of you descend the stairs toward the car, you tilt your head to the side.

“How did you get here?” Then, turning to him with wide eyes, “You didn’t drive yourself, right?”

He’s quick to shake his head, pointing out a car that’s turning around at the end of your street and slowly making its way back toward you two. “The guys dropped me off.”

The thought of Namjoon in a car with some of the boys and the rest trailing after them in a separate vehicle is endearing, while also hilarious. “All of them?”

“Yep,” he confirms. “Every last one of them.”

As the car draws nearer, you see the windows roll down and someone with familiar black, fluffy hair sticks their head out. Like a dog pile, another head hovers beside them.

Taehyung and Jimin.

Oh, and there’s Jungkook somehow managing to wiggle in between them.

“We apologize in advance, jagiya,” Jimin croons loudly with a teasing smirk. “At least try to enjoy yourself.”

You snort, clicking the button to unlock the car and laughing even harder when Hobi jumps at the sound of the horn. He sits in the passenger seat beside Jin, who drives. The two merely wave before mumbling something to each other that makes them laugh.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, frowning as you do a head count and not finding him anywhere. In response, a pale hand coming from what must be the very back row of the car worms its way forward to the open window. You swear you can almost hear his disgruntled greeting, but it’s drowned out as Taehyung excitedly speaks up.

“Good luck trying to beat me, hyung,” he teases, shooting Namjoon a sweet smile that’s at odds with his teasing comment.

Namjoon just shrugs, utterly unphased as he follows you around the car and opens the drivers side with smooth precision. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

This encourages a round of ooh-ing that only serves to make you laugh even as you tuck away the momentary competitive side of Namjoon. Calm, calculated, and - if you’re reading that steely look in his eyes correctly - utterly in the zone.

Oh, you’re definitely enjoying this way more than you should.

“Drive safe!” The boys shout out amidst jeering comments directed toward Namjoon and his lack of driving abilities. With a final wave, they’re speeding off down the street. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, you notice the way Namjoon’s shoulders relax. He hurries over to the passenger side, hopping in and buckling up before fiddling with his phone.

“So...where to?” You ask, buckled up and ready to go. You tap the steering wheel excitedly, already feeling hyped up from the short interaction with everyone.

You miss seeing them all together. There’s a reason why you’re friends with the entire group.

“I put the address into the car,” Namjoon explains. “It should give you directions as we go.”

Arching a brow at him, you don’t shift into drive just yet. “So I’m driving us there, but I don’t get to know what the end location is?”

Smiling softly, Namjoon nods. “Exactly. You’re so smart, have I ever told you that?”

Scowling, you press the green button that appears on the screen and a warm female voice instructs you to drive to the stop sign and turn left.

You hum, pondering the slightly sarcastic question. “I’m not sure. But that’s definitely a sign that you should tell me more often.”

“I’ll make note of that.”

With a glance at the screen, you see the estimated driving time. “We’re leaving Seoul?”

From your peripheral, you notice Namjoon’s worried expression. “Is that alright? We can find something to do around here, it’s just-”

“No,” you rush to reassure him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” It won’t be a particularly long drive, just over an hour, but you certainly weren’t expecting that.

Something tells you that there are plenty more surprises waiting for you today.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you slip into an easy conversation, Namjoon relating his latest experiences in his efforts to add something eye-catching to his studio.

“Like what?” You ask. “I love your studio the way it is.”

Namjoon looks over at you, smiling softly. “Really? I don’t know...I just feel like something’s missing.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for something today,” you promise, relaxing now that you’re on the freeway and in the flow of traffic. “Like, do you want something to hang up? Or something to go on your desk?”

He shrugs, taking a moment to roll his window down and close his eyes as it runs through his hair. “I already have a bunch of stuff on the wall, and if I put anything on my desk-”

“Right, you’ll spill on it.”

“Exactly.” You keep your eyes on the road, entirely missing the fond look he gives you.

“So basically, you don’t need anything.”

He huffs a sigh, rolling the window back up and sinking down into the seat. “No, I do, I just don’t know what.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey,” Namjoon cuts, giving you a dramatic glare. “Don’t mock me.”

Feigning innocence, you peek over at him. “I’m not!”

“Yah, just drive.”

“I am!”

Despite the bickering, you can’t fight the smile edging its way onto your features. A glance over at Namjoon shows that he’s having the same issue, his face turned away from you but failing to hide the silly grin he’s attempting to hide as his fingers curl at his lips. It’s a habit he’s had for as long as you’ve known him, one that often makes its way into many photos.

“Prepare to take exit 14,” the voice instructs, and you make your way over to the far lane, eyeing the looming sign that will announce what exit it’s for. Once the sign comes into view, you give Namjoon a puzzled look.

“We’re going to Anyang?”

It’s not that you have anything against the city, it’s just that...well, what is there in Anyang that isn’t in Seoul?

“See? Super intelligent.” It’s the only response you get from Namjoon, but it has you rolling your eyes in an effort to counter the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you.

In a couple of minutes you’re turning onto a relatively quiet street, only a few random people mulling about, enjoying their weekend. Namjoon points out an entrance to a parking lot that you would have completely missed due to its hidden nature. Once you’re parked and dwarfed between the buildings surrounding the little lot, you jump out of the car and make a show of stretching your legs.

Namjoon mimics you, a loud yet satisfying yawn coming from him. “Hey, are you hungry now or are you good to wait a little while?”

You pause, internally wondering. “I think I’m good for a while.”

“Great.” Rubbing his hands together, he comes to stand beside you. “Let’s go, then.”

You fall into step beside him. “Woah, you still haven’t told me where- oh.”

The two of you have rounded a corner and now stand in front of a nondescript building. Its sage green paint is chipping a bit, giving it a rustic feel that is only accentuated by the gold lettering above the door.

Wanderers & Travelers

However, it’s not the homey feel or the tasteful name that has you stopping in your tracks. It’s what you see inside, through the large windows.

Without a single word, you step forward as though in a daze. The little bell above the door chimes as you walk in, announcing your arrival. And, as though the entire thing couldn’t get better, the scent hits you.

The smell of old and new books, some leather bound and some hard backed, dives into your senses and leaves you whirling.

The walls in here are painted some shade of sky blue, complementing the deep wood shelves. It’s quiet in here, the only sound being that of shuffling feet.

If you blink, you’re afraid it might all vanish.

“Oh! You’re here!”

Turning to your left, you see a woman with flecks of white in her hair, smiling warmly at you and Namjoon. If you’re being completely, honest, you’d nearly forgotten that Namjoon was there.

The woman descends the final few steps of the creaky staircase, keeping a friendly distance as she nods at the two of you. “You were right,” she remarks to Namjoon. Then, to you with a teasing smirk, “You look like you’ve never seen a bookstore before.”

You sputter for the right words. “I- yeah, but this-”

“Is no ordinary bookstore,” Namjoon finishes for you, a hand at your elbow. You can’t help but lean into his touch, momentarily forgetting the rows and rows of shelves just a few steps away as Namjoon involuntarily steps a little closer.

“Ah, right. Well, first thing’s first: I’m Choi Min-jee. And this is my bookstore,” she gestures to the endless rows of bookshelves, and you wonder for a moment how all of these can fit in the building. It looks so much smaller from the outside.

Min-jee motions for you to follow her, and she leads the two of you to the nearest bookshelf. “These books range in languages and age, you never know what you might find. This shop has been in my family for five generations now - we’ve collected our fair share of books and other antique items.” With a little wink, she steps back. “Take your time, and let me know if you have any questions. Oh, and the upstairs is open now.”

Namjoon perks up at this, looking over from where he’d pulled a book off the shelf. “Really? We’ll have to look up there!”

“Please do! I’m off to practice piano.” With that, she whisks away, leaving you to your own devices.

You stare after her in awe, mouth slightly ajar. It makes Namjoon chuckle quietly, he must know the feeling.

“I wanna be her when I grow up,” you whisper, earning a louder chuckle from the man.

“Same.” Namjoon heads deeper into the shelves, and you follow after him. He glances back at you over his shoulder. “This is my favorite place.”

“I take it you’re a regular?” You ask, eyes catching on a bright blue book with frayed binding. Pausing, you ease it from its spot. “Hm… ‘The Cottage by the Sea’.” You run my hand over the shiny inlay, a seashell glinting up at you. “Why do I feel like I just entered the world of ‘Little Women’?”

Namjoon snorts, wandering back over to you and gazing down at the book. He grabs the one that occupied the spot next to it on the shelf, the deep red absorbing in all the surrounding light. “You’re definitely Jo.”

“Really?” You ask, gently flipping through the first few pages and trying to find a publish date. “I always thought that I was more of an Amy.”

Namjoon looks appalled, tearing his eyes away from his book. “What? No. In what world are you Amy?”

“Hey! Don’t act like she’s a bad person,” You whine, bringing the book close to your chest. “She was just...trying to survive.”

Huffing loudly and obnoxiously, Namjoon heads over to the other aisle, peeking at you through the gaps in the shelf. “She got everything she ever wanted, without hardly having to ask for it. Are you telling me that you have everything you ever wanted?”

There’s a skylight above you, allowing the lazy afternoon sun to filter in and play with the lighter tones in Namjoon’s hair. He looks at you with his ferociously focused gaze, something that you had never squirmed under before but now find your cheeks burning as he doesn’t look away.

You sigh contentedly. “More or less. Look at me, I’m surrounded by books.”

Namjoon gets closer to the shelves, leaning down to be eye-level with you through the shelves. “So what’s missing?”

“Hmm?” You hum, getting a little lost as music starts up somewhere. You realize with a start that this must be what Min-jee meant by practicing piano, as the soft sound comes from somewhere hidden.

There’s a little smile on Namjoon’s face, just enough for a dimple to appear. “You said more or less. What are you missing still?”

Edging a little closer and nearly closing your eyes at the smell of leather, you’re tempted to reach through the shelf and poke at the little indent in his cheek. “Just your glasses, I think. I love it when you wear your glasses.”

The statement takes him by surprise, Namjoon’s dragon-like gaze dropping and a flush taking over his features before he steps back. “Hmph.” With that, he continues down the aisle, the red book still in his hands and the blue in yours. “I still think you would be Jo, though.”

“Why?”

The two of you match footsteps, languidly walking along the seemingly endless rows. You catch glimpses of him through the books, a soft dimpled smile on his face as he looks down at his feet. It’s enough to make your coy smile grow, and you clutch the book tighter to your chest.

Finally, Namjoon comes to a stop as another book catches his eye. You take the opportunity to round the corner and enter the aisle he stands in, feet carrying you closer to him. Just as you’re about to reach his side, he speaks.

“Jo is...well, for one, she’s a dreamer. And we both know you’ve got a lot of dreams in that head of yours.” He taps your forehead for emphasis, side-smile growing when you scowl. “But she’s a realistic dreamer. You’ve given up a lot for your dreams, but I believe that you’d leave it all behind if someone you loved was in need of you.”

You blink, unprepared for the genuine compliment.

“And,” Namjoon says breathily, sliding the book back into its place and turning on his heel to walk away. “You two share a tendency to be oblivious to others feelings for you.”

He keeps walking, leaving you to become a sputtering mess before launching yourself after him. “I- we what?!” You all but screech, wincing as you sound twice as loud in the empty shop. “I am not oblivious-”

With a triumphant smirk, Namjoon heads down a little slope that leads toward a sitting area. “Be honest with yourself. You wouldn’t have had any idea about the pact or anything if Jungkook hadn’t spilled it.”

“But that’s not my fault!” You defend, glaring defiantly at his back. “You guys had that under lock and key!”

Diving into another row, Namjoon looks contemplative. “Ok, that may be true. But tell me the truth: did you ever once suspect that...I don’t know, there might be something more going on? Even just once?”

You stand out in the main walkway still, frozen by his question. “Er…” Pausing to think, you squint down at the book still in your hands.

Of course there were moments that had your heart pumping a little faster and a blush rising to your cheeks. Movie nights always meant some form of cuddling, but you quickly just assumed that it was all part of the friendship. Good morning texts that made you sink back into your pillows with a lazy smile, or the little facts that one of the boys would remember about you always made you stop and wonder.

But you never actually entertained the idea. It all seemed too…

“Unrealistic,” you mumble aloud. When Namjoon looks at you quizzically, you walk down a few rows until something catches your eye. You delight in the fact that now he’s following you. “I guess I had little moments where I wondered, but it just seemed like wishful thinking.”

Stopping near the end of the row and looking up at the top shelf, you wiggle on your tip-toes trying to grab a book. Your fingers barely graze the spine of the book before a warm presence overshadows you and Namjoon’s fingers ghost over your own before tugging the brown book from its spot. Still pressed against your back, his light breathing makes the hair on the back of your neck tingle as he lowers the book into your waiting hands.

“Moments like this?” He whispers, hands coming to rest just above your hips.

Suddenly, you recall a moment from months before, when you’d been in a similar situation. The boys had invited you over for some breakfast on one of their rare morning’s off. You’d wanted some cereal, only to find the bowls on the very top shelf. Namjoon had come to your rescue, pulling the exact same move before awkwardly pausing and looking as though he’d wanted to say something. He hadn’t, and instead rushed out of the kitchen before you could even utter a ‘thank you’.

Turning around in his grasp, you can see that he wears a similar expression as before. This time, however, he looks determined to say whatever comes to mind.

With a quiet voice you whisper, “Who in their right mind puts bowls on the top shelf?”

Namjoon’s grip on your hips tightens as he throws his head back and laughs, the kind of laugh that sinks right into your bones. All you can do is watch him, feeling like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Perhaps it’s the first time you’ve ever allowed yourself to look freely.

“Ah, so you did notice,” he whispers back. “You acted like nothing happened, so I figured I was in the clear.”

With a roll of your eyes, you’re stepping out of his grasp and taking a look down at the new book in your hand. “With you, Mr. Kim, we’re never in the clear.”

He lets out a low hiss, but lets you walk away. Not like you realize he’s not following you anymore, you’re idly wandering around while thumbing through the mystery novel. It looks like it might be an original copy from one of your favorite authors. One that passed away in the 1950’s, but still stands out among the countless authors that have come after them.

You’ve made it down to the small sitting area, where a large fireplace is crackling.

“Huh,” you smile. As if this place couldn’t get any better. Plopping down on the couch, you let out a sigh at how the cushions sink and welcome you into their warm embrace. Setting the blue book off to the side, you open up the brown one and begin to read.

You’ve nearly completed the first chapter - knees tucked to your chest as you lean against the arm of the couch - when you hear footsteps approaching.

Expecting it to be Namjoon, you glance over your shoulder with a smile. It’s Min-jee, who returns the smile with a knowing look. You listen closely and realize that her piano practice must be over. Classical music plays over the speakers in the shop instead.

“Namjoon’s gone upstairs,” she explains, coming to adjust something in the fireplace. “He said something about finding an item for his studio.”

You close the book softly, stretching before sitting up straight. “What’s upstairs? More books?”

“No, we’ve expanded our antique selection, there’s an assortment of desks and chairs up there, among other things.”

Making an ‘o’ with your mouth, you get up. “This place is amazing, by the way.” You hold up the brown book with an excited expression. “I found this - I think it’s an original! How much is it?”

Min-jee makes her way over to you, smiling softly as she recognizes the book. “You’re a fan of this author too, huh? My grandad used to read these to me back before I had to start running the shop.” She offers you a fond look. “Oh, and Namjoon told me to put whatever you like on his tab. So don’t worry about it. Take the book.”

She must notice your shock, because she places a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “He also told me that you might be hesitant to get anything because of that. But honestly, get it. And ‘The Cottage by the Sea’. That’s one of my favorites, actually.” Min-jee nods at the blue book with its golden seashell.

“Ah, he knows me too well,” you sigh. “This might be silly to ask, but...do you think it’s alright? You know, to just get them?”

Min-jee, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t laugh at your question. Instead, she sees right through you, to the worry in your heart.  The last thing you want is to take advantage of any of the boys. “It would make him happy,” she responds, watching your reaction carefully. You immediately let out a sigh of relief, nodding and picking up the books.

“Alright,” you concede. “I’ll get them, then.”

“Great! I’ll take them up front and hold them for you, if you’d like.”

“That’s perfect.”

While she whisks away your books, you follow after her until you reach the staircase. She nods encouragingly, and you head up.

Clearing the stairs, it doesn’t take long to locate Namjoon. He’s standing in front of a large wardrobe, inspecting every inch of it. The sight makes you smile, enjoying the way he’s chewing on the inside of the cheek.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re getting for the studio,” you drawl, making your way toward him. He looks back at you, a wide smile interrupting his cheek chewing.

“I mean...no, but look at it!” He exclaims. “It’s beautiful, isn't it? Honestly, if I moved some things around, I could probably make it fit.”

You reach the wardrobe, marveling at the expert craftsmanship. “It’s gorgeous. But what would you even put in it? It’s not like you take all of your coats to the studio. And you want your trophies to be visible, don’t you?”

This thing must weigh a ton, the wood is thick and the hinges smooth. “Hmm...no, but I can think of something else I could hide away in here.” The way Namjoon glances over at you with a sly grin makes you stumble back, red rushing to your cheeks as you suddenly become preoccupied with a very old typewriter.

“What would that be?” You venture, running your fingers over the keyboard. You’re waiting for his answer, which you’re sure will be a single word - you. However, just as he’s opening his mouth and looking like he’s garnering the courage to say it, the creaky staircase announces someone’s arrival.

At first you think nothing of it, but Min-jee’s voice is loud. Loud enough that you know she’s trying to be heard.

“I told you, we don’t sell anything BTS related in this store.” She says, and you and Namjoon share a puzzled look.

A couple of voices respond, but one in particular stands out as she raises her voice. “I swear, I saw Kim Namjoon walking around in here just a few minutes ago!”

Their footsteps are growing closer, and you suddenly realize that this is Min-jee’s way of warning you two.

Rushing over to Namjoon’s side, you look around frantically. “Is there another way out?” You whisper. Clearly the staircase is blocked at the moment. When he shakes his head, you’re about ready to suggest causing a distraction but he suddenly gasps.

Quickly and quietly, he’s swinging open the wardrobe and nudging you inside, quickly following. You raise your eyebrows, mouth opening to ask him just how this is going to help anything, but he allows the door to swing shut and presses a hand against your mouth.

Back pressed against the back of the wardrobe and Namjoon looming over you, the two of you hardly dare to breathe as you strain to listen to what’s going on outside.

“I’m pretty sure I would know if he was in my shop,” Min-jee is saying, sounding much closer now. “And right now the upstairs is off-limits, so please-”

“Look, I know I must sound crazy, but I’m absolutely positive that I saw him in here. I was just outside and he went up the stairs! And now you expect me to believe what you’re saying?”

You keep your eyes trained on the thin opening where light is streaming in, trying to see what’s going on. Namjoon, however, shuffles a little closer, hand slipping from your mouth and staring down at you. He braces his hands on either side of your head, needing to bend over a little bit due to the small space.

“For the last time,” Min-jee defends, “the upstairs portion of this shop is closed. As you can tell, nobody is up here besides us. If you wish to continue this conversation, I would simply ask that we do it downstairs.”

You bite your lip, looking up at Namjoon and about to whisper something about how Min-jee deserves a raise. The words die on your tongue, however, when you finally catch sight of him.

Namjoon is slouching a bit, and you realize that his hands are on either side of your head. His hair is slightly mussed, from what you’re unsure. However, that’s not what has your breath catching in your throat.

He’s looking down at you in a way that suddenly makes you aware of just how small the wardrobe is, and has you mentally cursing yourself for coming up here in the first place. Namjoon is looking at you, looking at you in a way that you immediately recognize.

Like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to.

You watch the way his eyes follow the way your throat constricts as you swallow, the way they trace the slope of your nose and the dip above your lip.

The voices fade away as Namjoon’s fingers feather through your hair, light enough to make your heart melt. He does so slowly, eyes reading your own in order to see if he’s somehow crossed a line that he shouldn’t have.

You, however, are sick of all these dumb lines and boundaries that have been set. Somehow, Namjoon must see that, because he’s opening his mouth and whispering out what he’s been thinking this entire time.

“You,” he mumbles as he watches the strand of hair he tucks behind your ear. Almost as though to verify that this is real, that it’s actually happening. “I’d tuck you away in here, and nobody would find us.”

Breathing has become impossible at this point.

“No prying eyes, no invisible lines to make sure I don’t cross,” he’s tracing the line of your jaw now, and you don’t miss the slight tremor in his hand. “Would you like that as much as I would?”

His eyes land on yours, eyebrows coming together as he awaits your answer. You would smile if you could, but you find that you’ve turned to putty at his touch. Instead, you slowly nod before breathing out, “Yes.”

That’s when you realize that Namjoon is just as tired of rules as you are. Namjoon, the dedicated leader that always makes sure everything is in order. Namjoon, who constantly forgets things like his phone and wallet, but never forgets to say please and thank you.

Namjoon, who leans impossibly closer until you’re closing your eyes for fear of going cross-eyed. His breath fans across your nose, acting as your only warning before his lips find yours.

Light as a feather against your mouth, Namjoon kisses you.

As you sigh against his lips, you suddenly understand why kissing was prohibited. Because right now, all that you can think of - every breath, every heartbeat - it’s all saying the same thing.

Namjoon.

Just as your hands find their way to his chest and bunching up the fabric, he’s jumping back with a gasp and stumbling through the door of the wardrobe. You see his wide eyes, but you’re too busy standing there completely frozen and praying that nobody is up here still.

He looks around frantically, but looks at you with utter horror as the same voice as before pipes up from downstairs.

“See! I’m telling you that someone is up there-”

“Oh! Did you see that? I think I just saw him taking the emergency exit!” Min-jee retorts, and you can picture her frantically pointing out the window in an effort to distract the girls. “Hurry! He looked like he was running!”

The bell above the door chimes, excited voices fading as the group exits the shop. However, their timely exit does little to soothe the raging heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

“I- I’m not supposed to do that,” Namjoon reminds himself aloud. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“They’re gone!” Min-jee calls out, poking her head up as she ascends the stairs. She spots you still standing in the wardrobe. “Oh, so that’s where you were hiding. Anyway, I’ve locked up the front, so we shouldn’t be having any more trouble with that.”

You can only offer her a weak smile, Namjoon still staring at you with that horrible, guilt-ridden expression, which you’re dying to erase.

“Thank you,” you say when Min-jee begins to notice the odd silence. “We’ll be down in a second, I think.”

Namjoon nods along, finally looking away to check the time. “Actually, we’ve got a reservation,” your stomach flips at the thought of sitting through an entire meal with his guilty apologies, “is there a way we can sneak out of here without being seen?”

Min-jee blinks, looking between the two of you but not saying anything. “Ok...um, yeah. The back alleyway should be clear, it’ll lead to the parking lot.”

Finally stepping out of the wardrobe, you look back at it with a glare.

“So much for Narnia,” you mumble, closing the door.

ˆˆˆˆ

Min-jee quickly places your books in a bag - Namjoon ends up getting the red one as well - and offers it to you with a smile. Automatically you reach out for it, but so does Namjoon. The second your hands meet you can’t help but jump, and the bag falls to the floor.

“Oh no,” you whimper out, feeling sorry for the old books. Before you can lean down to get them, Namjoon’s swooping them up and keeping a firm grip on the bag. He mumbles out a soft, “sorry” before following Min-jee toward the back exit.

The two of you thank her profusely for the day, and you promise that you’ll return soon. There’s no way you can leave a place like that alone for very long. Namjoon smiles for a moment, looking pleased that he picked a good place. However, once he catches your eye, he’s back to chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Slyly sneaking down down the alleyway, it’s quiet between the two of you. No matter how hard you pinch yourself, your thoughts keep zoning in on the way Namjoon’s lips felt on yours...the way he looked at you just before he leaned in...how perfect everything had been until he’d come to his senses-

You’ve made it to the car, and you click the unlock button, jumping back as it honks. Man, you’ve got to get out of your head.

Namjoon hurries to set the bag in the backseat before rushing to the driver’s side, opening the door up for you with significantly less flourish than before.

Knowing Namjoon, it’s eating him up alive. And there’s no way you’re about to let a kiss - something to celebrate, in your opinion - ruin the rest of this date.

Especially when it may very well be the only one you get.

“Namjoon,” you say, walking slowly toward him. His eyes jump up to yours, and you can already see that he’s hard at work trying to pretend like everything is fine.

“We’re going to be about an hour early for our reservation,” Namjoon admits, running a hand through his hair and immediately trying to fix it after. “I’m sorry for rushing you out of there, I wasn’t thinking straight. You can go back in, if you want. I’ll wait out here until you’re ready-”

“Namjoon.” He quits his rambling, red cheeks somehow turning redder as you stop before him. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

At this, he lets the door fall shut. “You...did?”

Wanting nothing more than to dispel the awkward tension, you laugh. “Of course I did! I’d be an idiot if I didn’t! So please...it’s nobody’s fault. So what, you broke a stupid rule-”

“And I’ve hurt the guys in the process of breaking that rule,” Namjoon explains, looking at you with clear, pained eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me regretting kissing you because- w-well, that’s not the point!” Leaning back against the car, you follow suit just as a large stormcloud blocks out the sun. It’s going to rain soon.

“Namjoon, you’ve all found ways to skirt around the rules in some way,” you confess, remember Hobi’s sweet hand kiss and Taehyung’s forehead kiss. “Sure, you actually broke the rule, but nobody is going to hate you for it. Nobody. Least of all me.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes as he lets out a long breath. “It’s just, we all agreed to give you enough space to make a clear decision if you felt like you wanted to make one at the end of all this,” he confesses, not seeing the way your eyes widen. Oh. “And I’ve completely screwed that up.”

Sighing, you squint as a fat raindrop lands on your nose. “Well, we’re on a date, aren’t we? People sometimes kiss- I mean, honestly, we could have done a lot worse-” Namjoon chokes on his spit at that. “But if you need something to blame, please don’t blame yourself. Because I love this date, and as far as I can tell, the kiss only made it better.”

He peeks one eye open at you. “Really?”

“Really.” You shrug. “And see? I really am Amy! I always get what I want!” You don’t add the fact that that wasn’t quite true with Hoseok or Taehyung. “If anything, blame the wardrobe. Wardrobes are wacky, anyways.”

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes. “Blame the wardrobe? Really?”

“Yeah! Sometimes they transport you to Narnia, sometimes they mess with your common sense,” you give him a pointed look, which he avoids. “So if the boys get all upset about it, just tell them it was the wardrobe. I’ll back you up on it.”

Finally, Namjoon laughs. Like, the annoying little hyena laugh that he hates but you secretly love. And when he looks back down at you and opens up the door, he doesn’t look so upset about it.

“Be honest, would you have rather gone to Narnia or been stuck in there with me?”

You feign annoyance. “Ugh, just get in the car.”

From the way your stomachs were rumbling and the rain was pouring, the two of you decided to bag the reservation. It was for some posh outdoor restaurant in Seoul that Namjoon pretended to be excited about.

Which is exactly how you ended up going through the McDonald’s drive thru and bringing it back to your place.

“Aren’t you on a diet or something?” You ask around your fries, eyes not leaving the television screen. The two of you had decided on Gone With the Wind, completely forgetting just how long it was.

Namjoon makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, taking a swig of his drink. “Yeah, something like that. Today’s my cheat day, though.”

“Aw, you decided to spend your cheat day with me?” You tease. Namjoon rolls his eyes, finally deciding that maybe you really are Amy from Little Women. However, he can’t fight the feeling that he’s the Laurie to your Jo.

Not that he’ll be telling you that anytime soon. He’s certainly done enough today.

“More like our date happened to fall on my cheat day,” he bites back. “And I heard that they have really good cheesecake at that restaurant we bailed on.”

You hesitate before taking another bite of your food. “Should we have gone? They probably would’ve given us our food to go if we didn’t want to sit under the umbrellas. I feel bad, you made reservations and everything.”

Namjoon shrugs. “No, this is way better.” He holds up his McFlurry for emphasis. “They even had the cheesecake McFlurry back in season! Coincidence?”

“I think not!”

You both chuckle before falling back into the companionable silence you’d been in before. Over the course of the drive back to Seoul, you’d taken your time, stopping at a handful of little parks along the way. Namjoon had imitated the ducks before realizing how silly he looked, then hiding behind his hands for a solid five minutes before he could look you in the eyes again. Overall, it had been calm and relaxing.

As you watch Scarlett O’Hara flirting it up with different suitors on the screen, you can’t help but wonder if that’s you.

Sure, Gina told you back at the haunted house to just enjoy it. Chances are it was all just a phase, anyways. There was all of this romantic tension between you and the boys that would naturally fade away as their curiosity diminished after their dates.

At least, that’s what you assumed. However you’re quickly coming to realize that you’re a little out of depth here.

“You alright over there?” Namjoon asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “You have your thinking face on.”

You blink. “I have a thinking face?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so stressed?”

“No,” you say a little too quickly. “I’m just...thinking about the movie.” Not entirely a lie.

You know he won’t push it if you don’t want to talk about it, but you take a little bit of enjoyment in the way his lip pouts out. “Alright, if you say so.”

Only a few more minutes pass before he speaks up again, sounding a little hesitant. “You know that this is a long movie…”

“Oh, should we end it here?” You ask, a little disappointed because you were just getting to one of your favorite parts. “You don’t need to feel like you have to stay-”

“No, not that. I’m gonna finish the movie. It’s just,” he wipes his fingers off on a spare napkin before scooting a little closer to you. “Long movies call for cuddling, don’t you think?”

You nearly choke on your saliva. “You- you, as in Kim Namjoon, want to cuddle? You’re into cuddling?”

He laughs, tugging on your arm until you give in and collapse against his side. You hope that your content sigh isn’t too noticeable when he drapes an arm around your shoulder. “It just depends sometimes. But yes, I am. At the appropriate times.”

“Ah, and long movies-”

“Are the epitome of the appropriate time,” he explains, lightly pinching your arm when you let out a wry laugh.

“Hey!” You cry out, only to be shushed by him.

“Shhh, I’m trying to watch this.”

You just can’t find it in you to be annoyed.

You’re asleep before the film is over, despite the fact that the sun barely went down. Something about having a full stomach and leaning your head on Namjoon’s shoulder just lulled you right to sleep.

You stir a little when Namjoon fidgets, pulling his phone out to call someone. His voice is deep and quiet, trying not to wake you.

“Hey, can you pick me up now?”

Despite your half-asleep state, you crack a smile. It’s quiet, but you can hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m close to there right now. Be there in a couple minutes. You’re at her apartment, right?”

“Thanks. Yeah, she’s conked out on the couch.”

There’s a laugh ringing through the phone. “Cute. Make sure she rests up, she’ll need it for our date next week.”

Namjoon sighs, not quite annoyed but not exactly pleased, either. “Yah, just hurry over.” He pauses for a moment. “Do you think I should wake her up to say goodbye?”

“Your call. But I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna give her a kiss goodbye. If she’s that tired, I’d just let her sleep.”

Your cheeks involuntarily turn red, and you can only imagine the way Namjoon looks right now. It’s his silence that gives him away.

“Hyung...what-”

“Text me when you get here,” Namjoon says, and suddenly the call ends.

Oh, he’s in for it tonight.

Stretching and trying to look like you totally weren’t just eavesdropping, you crack open your eyes to see Namjoon looking down at you with an amused expression.

“I would tell you that you missed the ending, but something tells me you’ve seen it before,” he drawls.

You chuckle breathily, yawning as you stretch your arms over your head. “Yeah, a couple of times.”

“I’m about to head out,” Namjoon begins, back to chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But thank you for going out with me. I seriously...it was just the best.” He smiles softly, and you wish you could have a picture of it.

Instead, you opt for nuzzling back into his side. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one thanking you? It was great, Namjoon-ah. I’ll have to read that book you got some time.”

He hums, returning the sentiment. “Yeah, we’ll do a book swap.” His phone lights up, but before you can see who it’s from, he’s snatching it up and jumping up from the couch. “They’re here.”

It’s tempting to not resort to begging him to stay a little longer - if only for the sake of his warmth which is quickly fading as he retreats to the door. However, you only pad after him, stopping him before he reaches the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his chest. “Tell everyone I say hello.”

“I will.” And with a rush of cool air, he’s out the door.

Gone, leaving you to stare blankly and wonder what just happened today.

And worse yet, what’s yet to come.

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[messedupfan]

Infinity & Beyond (Wanda Maximoff x Reader) Chapter 4

Summary: This chapter focuses on the journey of the reader during the five years without Wanda.

A/N: Thank you for the likes and reblogs! Hope that you are all enjoying the story.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

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

You wake up a few months later in the Avengers compound once again. This time with your memories intact and feeling unbelievably disappointed. “She found him,” you find yourself saying to whoever was in the room as you involuntarily sit up on the bed. The nurse brushes it off as some weird superhero thing and not something to address. But then you repeat yourself again and again until she alerts Bruce who grabs the attention of the other remaining Avengers.

"What do you think she means?" Natasha questions as you make the statement again.

"Maybe she's talking about Wanda and Vision?" Steve chimes in with a concerned look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Why would she be talking about Wanda and Vision? Vision was an advanced robot with a stone in his head, he had no soul for Wanda to find. If any of that exists," Bruce points out.

"I don't know then," Steve shrugs. Then you repeat the phrase again. "Maybe it's Wanda and her brother? I don't know, maybe we're too focused on the cloudy eyes thing. We could be thinking about this too hard."

Then Rhodey comes into the room to inform the members that the radar has picked up a signal of an unidentified flying object. He thinks that Carol might be back. "Just say UFO," Natasha rolls her eyes as she follows the guys out of the building. On their way out she spots a worried Pepper Pots and quirks her lips into a reassuring smile. "I think she found him," she says to the woman and leads her to the landing zone of the compound. It's only then that Natasha realizes what you meant. Sure enough, a woman is carrying a ship into the landing zone with Tony Stark and someone named Nebula. Pepper wraps her arms around Tony in tears and relief. He is quickly brought to the medical wing where you remain. Somehow having watched the whole thing from your bed.

When you come out of it the nurse informs you that your eyes had gone cloudy for a moment and you had predicted the return of your father. "He isn't my father," you grouched. Huh, must be another ability, you think to yourself.

Later, after passing a few diagnostic exams with flying colors, you are discharged from your hospital room and are eating across from a very serious Thor as people argue and yell at each other. It was weird to eat actual food. Thor was almost amused watching you figure out how to hold your sandwich.

Tony is then rolled into the room with a furious energy. You can tell that he is really hurting from this loss, that he is frustrated and you can even feel betrayal radiating off of him somehow. Of course, it's not until he's shouting at the Captain that you realize you are feeling his emotions. You were feeling everyone's defeated emotions and it was beginning to suffocate you. As you try to distract yourself with the food, your mind wanders to how overwhelmed Wanda must've felt being able to read people's minds. That leads to the memory of Wanda slipping from you and it's almost too much to handle. You toss the plate in front of you, disrupting the ongoing argument. You’re squeezing your skull as the tears come and you scream for it all to stop. Natasha and Steve fall to your side as they do their best to calm you down. Once the memory leaves you and you've settled, everyone in the room gets serious about finding Thanos.

Nebula is useful as she provides the only lead to finding Thanos and you join them on the spaceship, brushing off everyone's concerns. The talking racoon asks how many of you haven’t been to space before, you raise your hand among the others which seems to be enough to make him laugh. You don't understand why until the ship rushes off to space.

Arriving just outside the planet, a floating woman you hadn't been introduced to yet appears at the front window and is surprised to report that the planet is just Thanos. Along with everyone else, you are heart broken to find out that he had destroyed the stones. You feel for Thor when he says he went for the head and shed another tear for the woman that Thanos had taken from you. It feels like you just lost her all over again.

The first year is the longest. The days feel never ending and drag on. Most nights were spent jolting out of bed in a cold sweat as you're being haunted by memories. It often felt like you were back in the hands of Hydra being electrocuted and injected, spoken to in a language you didn't know, probably German. Everything that was done to you in the time you were captured, everything that your mind had originally suppressed, was attacking you each night. Going through it alone made you miss Wanda even more. So once you could remind yourself that you were safe, you had also been reminded that you were alone. Lots of tears were shed in the night.

After Tony built up enough strength to leave the compound he did but he never stayed gone long. He would return often to attempt to build a relationship with you. It wasn’t easy trying to let him in, the lack of sleep being no help, so you didn’t. Your resistance never stopped him from making the effort to get to know you. Now that he knew you existed, he wanted to be part of your life. Tony knew that you needed family and he was all you had left, even if you didn't want to accept it. He promised to never abandon you ever again.

That didn’t mean he stopped living his life. Within a few months of his recovery, Tony invited you to his surprisingly low-key wedding which you begrudgingly attended with Natasha and Steve. They had been helping you out a lot with coping and figuring out whether or not you wanted Tony in your life. Steve often joked about fighting him again to get him to back off, but you never took the offer. You did your best to enjoy yourself at the wedding but it only reminded you of what you couldn’t have.

You smiled your way through the night as you thought about Wanda.

Her smile, the dress she would’ve worn, her laugh, that look in her eyes that is so full of love and only reserved for you. Your mind went even further back to a time when Pietro was alive and how they would’ve danced together and how happy he would have been for the two of you. You even imagine the wide grin he would have walking Wanda down the aisle and the single tear he would shed. Once he found that ring of yours he was constantly harassing you about when and how you were going to ask his twin. Even giving unwanted advice and ideas. It was all so consuming. That night you fell asleep crying in Natasha’s arms.

Months later, while Tony was visiting you he included you in on a secret. Pepper was pregnant. You didn’t exactly give the most joyous reaction but you were happy for him and Pepper. “When she’s born, promise me you won’t come back here,” you find yourself saying.

“Well I don’t know if she’s a girl yet but… why don’t you want me to come around here?” Tony asks as he returns the ultrasound image to his pocket.

“I want the three of you to be happy. I don’t want you to worry about me. Besides, I’m thinking of asking Nat to start assigning me to missions. I probably won’t be around as much and I really just need to get my mind off of the things I lost and the things I can’t have.” You keep your eyes on the promise ring Wanda had given you on your first anniversary. “But I want you and Pepper to be happy. Enjoy your life Tony. You don’t need to make things right with me to do that.” Tony disagrees but hugs you as he says his goodbyes and you find Natasha for your first assignment.

You are there for the birth of Morgan Stark. You forge her a special necklace from your powers and smile at the little bundle of joy. “Congrats you guys, she is so precious,” you say as you hold the baby.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Pepper says with hooded eyes and a tired smile. You hand the baby back to Tony and leave before thoughts of Wanda could invade and cloud your head. She always wanted a family. She used to fantasize about the kinds of parents the two of you would be. The types of kids you guys would raise. Baby names… Being away allowed you to forget her. But moments like these threatened to tear you down.

More years pass and Natasha is forced to ground you from missions because you have become too mentally unstable and a major liability. Steve drags you to his group therapy sessions but you hardly pay attention or contribute. You just miss Wanda and you allow yourself to feel that pain because running from it has only made it grow. For the most part you spent your time sitting in meetings with Steve or Nat. You preferred being in Natasha’s meetings since they were about mission updates and strategy and not about people crying over first dates. Shortly after that particular meeting Steve began to hint that maybe you should give it a try, you shut him down and turned it around on him. He quickly dropped the subject.

Among that daily schedule you would end your nights curled up on your bed in the room Wanda stayed in while she was waiting for you to come back to her. You would hold some clothes that still smelled like her to your nose as you listened to sad songs. For a while you’re stuck listening to Little Talks wondering if her spirit was lying by your side trying to reach out to you. Some of the things you felt were too painful to keep around and you had them stored at a special place far enough from here. One of them being the old computer. Well, they had been stored away for you but sometimes you convinced yourself that you made the call on your own. Not that Natasha arranged a team to steal most of your belongings.

Tony was generous enough to copy every video and photo file from the computer and put them into your phone. They helped you go to sleep at night.

Then one day, a man you swore had to have been on the vanished list that Nat viewed often, appears at the gate. “Is this old?” Steve asks.

“This is live,” Natasha says. They let him in and the three of you stand around as he explains how he can help. You, Nat, and Steve are skeptical but not so much that you guys don’t have hope it won’t work. Immediately you guys are on the road to find Tony Stark.

Over the years you tried to visit between missions, when you could. Not for Tony but for Morgan. You couldn’t help but fall for the little girl, she was your sister and you wanted to be the best big sister you could be for her. You also wanted to make sure she knew how many people cared for her and that she would always be safe and protected. Natasha was also captivated by her and would sometimes join you on the visits. You girls would play once she was able to run around and you even showed her some of your powers. During this time you finally allowed Tony in and even established a healthy relationship with him and Pepper because whether or not you wanted to accept it, they were your family.

When you arrive at the cabin, Morgan jumps out of Tony’s arms and runs into yours. “Y/N/N!” She shouts happily. You greet her with just as much energy and take her into the house to let them do the talking.

Pepper prepares some drinks and has you take them out to everyone. You re-enter the kitchen to help her with lunch. “Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them?” Pepper asks conversationally.

“Because my powers are connected to my emotions and if your husband says no… I might accidentally blow him into bits and pieces,” you sigh.

Despite herself, Pepper laughs a little. “You know,” she starts. “If you called him dad, he won’t have any other choice than to say yes.”

You shake your head, not this again. “Not going to happen.” Tony hasn’t directly asked you to say it but Pepper has and she keeps bringing up how much it would mean to him to hear you say it. “Besides with what we’re trying to do there’s a chance that he might lose all of this. I’m not even sure if I want him to say yes.” Your gaze lands on Morgan playing with her toys. Pepper follows your gaze and smiles softly.

“Hey Morgan, sweetie?” Pepper calls attention to her daughter who curiously looks up at her mother. “You should go out there and rescue daddy,” Pepper says. The little girl's face lights up as she stands to run to the front door. “Knowing Tony, he will find a way to protect everything he loves and save the world. Even if it kills him,” there is something in the way she says those words that causes the two of you to share a look. A hopeful let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.

She then gives you a hug and tells you to stop by more often, she wishes you luck, and you leave the warmth of the home to the frowns of your rejected friends. You don’t look at Tony when you bid him goodbye.

Next you find yourself in Bruce’s diner and watch as Scott Lang fails to be recognized as Ant-Man by some kids. Bruce is willing to give the time travel a try and on the day the test run is done, you begin to lose hope again. You eat your taco near a window as you observe Scott set up in the landing zone. You laugh when Nebula and Rocket arrive blowing away his food. You almost can’t believe that is the guy who had access to the closest thing they had to a time machine. Steve walks in smiling at your laugh, you don’t do that often, with Tony barking orders behind him. People get to work on the machine and that pesky flicker of hope is restored.

As you work on things Tony is by your side teaching you about every part you are using and putting together. You just let him rattle on and on as you let yourself fantasize about holding Wanda in your arms again. Before you know it they are doing the first test run with Clint Barton. He disappears and instantly reappears with a baseball glove and a stunned expression. “It works,” he says and that feeling of hope causes your heart to pound in your chest. You are going to see her again. Now to find out when to travel to.

“See you in a minute,” Nat says with contained excitement. She is just as excited to complete this mission as you are. After a lot of thinking and planning they separated into three teams of people. Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Scott leave to 2012 to retrieve the tesseract, scepter, and the time stone. Nat, Clint, Nebula, and Rhodey vanish to 2014 to grab the power stone and the soul stone. The last team is just Thor and Rocket to grab the reality stone that is apparently inside of Thor’s former girlfriend. Tony, Steve, and Nat wouldn’t let you go on the mission because they still think you’re a liability. You argue that Thor isn’t exactly the picture of mental stability but they point out that Thor is the only one on their team that knows Asgard and where that stone is.

So you sit and pout in a chair for the quick minute that everyone is gone. Part of what has you so pissed off is that you didn’t get to experience time traveling. All because of a few bad missions. You watch them disappear and stare at the platform but time seems to drag on and you look down at your phone with a sigh. In that second everyone has returned with their stones and your heart drops. You notice one person missing and frown. “Where’s Nat?” You ask. Clint wears a broken expression and takes a breath before explaining how he received the stone. “Oh,” is all you can come up with.

Clint felt that it should’ve been him and you didn’t disagree but you understood why Natasha sacrificed herself. She confided in you a few times about how she felt like a monster because of what she was forced to do when she was being raised in the Red Room. She even talked about the mandatory hysterectomy and hated that she could never carry kids of her own. You did your best to try and cheer her up by telling her that adoption was always an option. “No agency is going to allow a former assassin to adopt a kid. Trust me… I tried.” She then boasted about Clint and his family, she loved them as if they were her own family. “I’ll deny it if you tell anyone but I cried like a baby the first time his daughter called me aunty Nat,” she got teary eyed and you passed her another shot of vodka.

Natasha missed them so much and you knew she would sacrifice herself to get them back. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if his family came back and she had to inform them that he died to save her. She probably would have felt like a bigger monster than she already thought she was. You stood up and left the room to collect yourself and get as far away from everyone’s grief as possible. Natasha had easily become your best friend these past few years. In the past year that you’ve been stuck at the compound there were days when it felt like all you had was each other. You can’t believe she’s gone but you have to hope that there is still a way to bring her back.

Banner finds you later and makes you some food and Rocket sits with you and the rest of the guys sit by the dock to talk. You force the comfort food down despite feeling too sad to eat and notice Nebula walking back into the time machine area. They call you into another room where they’re going to put the stones together but you ignore them and follow Nebula. They let you go, assuming that you’re still upset about losing Natasha. The first time you went on an actual mission with Nebula, you were put off with how serious she was so you came up with random nicknames to call her. She was annoyed initially but eventually she mentioned how funny she thought it was. Her tone had remained emotionless as she told you that and you had to refrain from laughing because it felt rude to do so as she was opening up. Nebula was still a very serious person to be around but she loosened up a bit around you, even called you her friend.

“Hey Neb-Neb!” You called out after her but she ignored you. “Bu-Bu! Hello?” You followed her to the control panel, “Nella, what’s going on with yo–” she cuts you off by wrapping her hand around your throat and speaking to you through gritted teeth. There was definitely something off about Nebula but you couldn’t quite figure it out. So you fought back because you weren’t fighting your friend, you were fighting a stranger. The two of you go hand in hand until she slips out of your hold and goes back to the control panel. You move to stop her but are too late. Next thing you know, you are waking up in rubble.

With a groan you sit up and dust yourself off then quickly panic, you don’t even know if they had time to do the reverse snap. You crawl your way out of the rubble and find Steve, Tony, and Thor speaking in hushed tones. “Did you guys do the snap? What happened?” You ask frantically, you need to know that you’ll be seeing Wanda again. Losing her a third time was simply not an option. Then you see a very alive Thanos just sitting there. That’s when it connects in your head. It was a different Nebula and she was getting a past version of Thanos into this present. “Please tell me you guys did the snap,” you look at Tony and he nods. But the look on everyone's faces told you that they didn’t know if it worked.

You join them as they attack Thanos but he is powerful and not easy to bring down. You’re tossed into another pile of rubble and shake your head, annoyed with yourself because you felt useless. Your powers were failing you and you couldn’t fathom as to why. Out of nowhere you see portals open up one by one, the people that had vanished and the people that hadn’t stepped through each portal. Then an enormous Ant-Man emerges from the ground and drops off a few more people that must’ve been trapped from the destruction of the compound. You gather with the rest of them and really focus to activate your powers as Steve grabs Mjolnir and shouts, “Avengers… Assemble!” Despite the unsuccessful attempt, you still charge along with the rest of them to fight against Thanos’ army.

Without seeing her, you could just sense that Wanda is among the rest and as much as you want a reunion, saving the world takes precedence at the moment. You could practically hear her telling you to go be a hero anyway. As you fight against Thanos’ army, using the hand to hand combat skills Natasha and Steve taught you, a part of you is still distracted and searches for Wanda. Regardless of where you want your focus at the moment. You make your way around the battlefield hoping to knock into her or something so that you don't get yourself killed trying to find her. Then you hear her.

“You took everything from me,” her tone is heavy and her eyes are glowing. You come to the conclusion that she must not know whether or not you are alive. So you don’t let her know and wait to find out what she does.

“I don’t even know who you are,” Thanos responds, angered by the woman's threatening glare.

“You will,” she says before she starts attacking him with her powers. Discreetly killing off a large gathering of Outriders hurtling towards you, you watch Wanda as she comes very close to killing Thanos herself. He calls for the ships to rain fire on everyone and that’s when you finally make yourself present to her. You jump from your spot and land right beside her and create a force field to protect the both of you. Other members are being protected by the sorcerers and it isn’t until Captain Marvel comes flying through that the bullets stop coming down and people are trying to get the gauntlet out of there. You turn towards Wanda and feel her mixed emotions, you wink at her with a smile as you let the barrier go.

“It’s time to be a hero right now, love. We can say hello later,” you tell her before you go back into the fight, the adrenaline rushing through you as your powers have finally activated. Each member does their best to keep the gauntlet out of Thanos’ reach but sadly no one succeeds and he holds the extreme amount of power once again. Carol fights him with as much power as she has to keep him from snapping his fingers but eventually gets tossed aside. You step up next using everything that you have inside of you, using abilities you had no idea you even possessed. But in the end you are tossed onto a metal rod that had been protruding out from the destroyed building. It had stabbed you through your side making it difficult to breathe. As you fight for air you look around to watch Thanos and his army disappear. Tony collapses beside you. “No,” you cough out weakly. You reach out for him and luckily he was close enough for you to touch his shoulder. “Tony,” you gasp as the tears sting your eyes. His eyes follow the sound but you can tell that he’s not actually looking at you.

“Mr. Stark, we won. Mr. Stark,” Peter says as he tries to grab Tony’s attention. Rhodey lands beside his best friend with understanding and sadness in his eyes. Yours tighten shut for a moment as your tears start to fall. You want to wake up from this horrible nightmare but this is reality, a piece of you knew that you couldn’t avoid. Then Pepper arrives and pulls the boy in the spider suit away from her husband. You look up and see that he has finally returned somewhat enough to recognize his wife.

She tells him that he can rest now, then she looks over to you so that you know that now is the time to say something so you don’t regret it later. With a weak grip on his shoulder you nudge him to return his attention to you. It looks like he’s trying to smile at you but is obviously far too weak to do as such. You offer him the best one that you could muster in your current state. “I love you, dad. It’s okay, we’ll be okay,” your hand lands in his and he gives it the lightest squeeze before it falls limp.

Wanda makes her way over to you and panics at the amount of blood you’ve lost but at the moment you don’t feel anything. Not even the pain of losing your father. You just feel… numb. It dawns on you that your body must be failing but that doesn’t scare you. She takes your hand as your loud thoughts of just letting go enter her mind. “No,” she starts through frustrated teeth. “You can’t leave, Y/N. Please, keep fighting. This can’t be our ending. I need you, please don’t leave me,” she sounds so broken but equally determined to keep you alive. As you hold her gaze she lets out a broken sob and tenderly whispers, “I love you to infinity.” She continues to beg, depositing small kisses to the back of your hand. As her words sink in, you find the strength that you need to fight off the thoughts of letting go. Then, with your heightened vision, you look around and find every remaining Avenger kneeling out of respect for your father and you have the urge to join them. You struggle to get up from your position, Pepper and Wanda try to stop you from moving but all rational thought has left you.

“I’m not dying right here,” you grumble as you reach behind you and cut the rod. You shift your position and Pepper sprays your wound to close it around the remaining bits of the rod that was still in you so that the bleeding would stop until you could get it properly treated. Then you kneel for your father to show your respect for him in his death that you failed to show while he was alive. You think about how grateful you were for the last five years and how much you appreciated that he never gave up on you. You silently thank him just as the adrenaline leaves your body and it succumbs to the full extent of your injuries causing you to collapse and pass out.

Chapter 5

[famej]

First Aid

Beelzebub x Reader

I got inspired for this fic by Beel’s Chat : “First Aid for Beel”. I tried to do something cute but I think I got lost in my own idea at the end... Hope you’ll still enjoy it :)

MC, could you bring me a first aid set ?

Did you get hurt ?

Yeah. I took a fall during club activities.

I was hoping you could bring me some bandages and an antiseptic solution.

I’ll head over straight away !

Thanks. But it’s not a major injury, so there’s no need to rush.

I wouldn’t want you falling down and getting hurt as well.

I’ll be waiting.

 Even through Beel reassured you a little, as a reflex you bolted out of your desk and fetched the first aid kit in your wardrobe before running out of your bedroom. On your way out you crossed path with a few of the brothers, but paid them no mind, only focusing on the ginger teddy bear who probably was suffering at that exact moment, the image unbearable for your heart.

RAD was only 15 minutes away and in the haste you were to get there, at half of the way, you were out of breath.

The Fangol pitch was situated behind the school. You took some time to slow down a little, not to look like a sweating lobster in front of Beelzebub and as soon as the pitch came in view, you trotted forward, looking among the players, cheerleaders and random students simply here to watch the trainings, searching for your favourite demon.

Finally you caught sight of the familiar orange mane and hurried over.

Beel was sitting on the bench, his leg up on the spare space beside him, wrapped in a cloth, which he was holding tightly. The coach was talking to him while some of the players surrounded the two of them, observing the situation.

« Beel ! » you screamed, only a few feet away.

His whipped his head in your direction, imitated by all the people in your voice’s reach.

A smile illuminated his features when he realized itw as you.

Only a few strides later, you were next to him, panting furiously.

« Are you okay ? » you asked breathlessly, your gaze falling upon the cloth cladded leg.

Beel put his hand on your upped arm and grinned, the touch tearing your eyes from his injured leg to settle on his face.

«  Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve worried you, but I’m glad you’re here now »

Between two deep breath you mirrored his smile and remembered your mission. Finally handing him the first aid kit he asked for.

«  Here. I hope there’s something in here that will help you feel better »

«  Don’t worry, it’s not that bad » he reassured while taking the kit from you.

You watched as the coach snatch the kit from his hands and started working on his wound with the content.

Not too long later, Beel called your name and patted the empty spot next to him on the bench.

«  Come here » he asked softly, his pain showing off a little through his almost serene face.

You followed his demand and settled beside him,  he leaned on you, sliding his arm loosely around your waist. Only listening to your heart, you leaned against him as well, closing your eyes  to enjoy the moment, also not seeing his injured leg, which made your heart ache.

You felt something on top of your head. His own was resting on top of yours, exposing to the whole field how adorable the avatar of gluttony was.

He winced from time to time under the coaches actions and you took the initiative to take his hand in yours with the intention to bring him some more support.

He immediately squeezed it in return.

After that, instead of winces, which he clearly seemed to be refraining, he squeezed your hqnd , which increased your worry a little bit each time.

«  Does it hurt a lot ? »

You felt him shift besie you, trying to bring you closer to him.

« Not that bad »

Your eyes fell on the first aid kit, where you knew was a few snacks. It was mentally painful to see the adorable demon suffer just like a sad puppy.

« There are some snacks in the kit, do you want one ? »

You knew itw as a stupid question, of course, he’d want one.

He lifted his head from yours and as he did, you looked up at him. The puppy dog eyes. The ones he often used when he got scolded or when his brothers accused him of eating too much. Adorable !

 «  Please » he begged softly

Nobody could have resisted Beel.

With a smile, you picked one of the chocolate bars in the kit and unwrap it to finally hand it to him. With his head back on your shoulder, he took a bite of the bar and munched. He let out a small « more » when he was done and wanted another piece.

Beel’s hair were tickling your neck and face, increasing the butterflies alreayd pretty active in your belly.

You giggled at the sensation, while continuing to hand feed him.

« Alright ! » The coach interrupted letting down a light slap to the demon’s leg before lowering it gently back onto the floor.

« It’ll probably hurt for a few days but if you don’t overdo it, it will heal really quickly. Now, come on you slackers, back on the field ! »

At his orders, all the demons previously surrounding you ran back to their designated posts, leaving the two of you alone on the bench.

« How do you feel ? »

« Goot » he mumbled, between two mastications. « It wasn’t a big injury but it’s nice of you to show up with snacks. Thank you, MC »

You smiled shyly and slightly turned your head to press a quicky kiss to the demon’s head.

« Anytime ; Beel. You know I’ll always have snacks for you. And I’ll make sure to have even more from non on so you’ll heal faster »

At your words, Beel moved to bury his face into the crook of your neck, tickling your neck in the process, earning himself a few giggles.

The arm he previously had wrapped around you pulled you even closer and instead of tickles, you felt him kiss that very ticklish spot, making the red rise to your cheeks.

« Thank you for taking care of me so well. I’m so glad you came to the devildom, please stay with me forever »

Why was he so adorable !!!

You wrapped your arms tightly around him embracing him with all the love you had for him.

« Promise »

« Good ! Who would carry all those snack around for me otherwise ? »

You tapped his shoulder playfully at his comment.

« So you’re keeping me around as a snack bag, huh ? »

He laughed into your neck.

« That’s one of the many reasons ! »

Then he left the comfiness of your neck to come up to face you and as naturally as ever, kisssed you chastly on the lips.

« I love you »

Another kiss.

You didn’t have the time to react that he was back into his previous position, like nothing happened.

You blinked, trying to realize that Beel just kissed you and admit his feelings for you before simply going back his previous activities.

With a sigh, you put you head back over his.

« You’re infuriatingly cute, you know that »

« Yes, I know »

You could literally hear the smile in his voice

«  Damn, why are you so adorable ?! »

« That I do not know »

You laughed at his nonchalance

« Well, I hope you know I love you »

This time, when Beel turned back to you, you were the one to kiss him first. Which didn’t surprise him, since he simply kissed you back hungrily.

Your hands found their way to his shoulder and ginger mane while he grabbed your waist tighter and the other went to cup your jaw.

The two of you were getting lost into the moment, forgetting where you currently were, until a chorus of whistles forced you to part from each other.

Most of the Fangol players were looking at you two, whooping and congratulating their teammate for « scoring ».

Beel threw a glare at his friends and as if on cue, the coach blew his whistle before screaming at them to go back to practice.

Without further ado, he turned back to you, kissing you once more.

« Let’s go get something to eat then carry on what we started ».

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

/rp

tw: physical and mental abuse, torture, drowning, broken bones, body image issues, horror, manipulation, kidnapping, implied gaslighting and stalking, referenced human experimentation, disassociation, obsession, and possessive behaviour

The only illumination in the forest was the silver of the full moon, it’s light streaming gently through the autumn leaves. The only sound was the quiet rustling of leaves in the breeze, the soft footsteps of passing animals. It was… peaceful. Serene. One might not expect it to be one of TommyInnit's favourite places, but it was far away enough from the rest of the server that he felt safe, quiet enough that he’d be able to hear any intruders.

He’d barely been able to sleep lately, ever since he'd heard those sirens, barely been able to leave his house. But it’s not a Big Man thing to hide in the house, trembling in fear like a fucking pussy. He’s not sure what in his sleep deprived mind possessed him to try and get over it by spending the night in a surely monster-infested at this time of night forest, but fuck it. He was always right, anyway, there was a reason people called him Tommy Trusty, or more accurately why he and only he called himself Tommy Trusty.

(No, it had nothing to to do with the fact he was going half mad back in the embassy, losing everything and finding it just when he was about to give up, always hearing noises in the walls Tubbo and Ranboo insisted were just the pipeworks, occasionally seeings the flash of a figure in the corner of his eyes. He’d torn the entire hill apart and found no evidence of anything, but as soon as he rebuilt it started up again.)

He just about jumped out of his skin hearing the pinging of his communicator. His laughter when he realised it was just the communicator definitely wasn’t forced, though, he definitely wasn’t shaking when he opened it up, because he wasn’t a fucking bitch baby. Probably just Tubbo or Ranboo being too damn clingy, or Wilbur asking why the fuck he’s a grandfather or something, right?

His eyes widened when he read the message on his screen. The communicator fell to the floor as Tommy scrambled desperately into the trees, words still repeating in his head over and over.

Dream: Run :)

——

It could have been minutes or hours of blind running through the trees in sheer panic before he dared to take a seconds break, doubling over against a tall oak, panting. He wasn’t even sure if he’d gotten anywhere, or just ran in circles, and he wasn’t even sure if it mattered. It was Dream, he did this shit for a living. Tommy was a dead man walking. Was it even worth it running to just prolong it, instead of just sitting still and waiting to die?

A strange sound came from his mouth, a warbling combination of crying and laughter. It forced it's way from his chest, loud and painful and making him break into fits of coughing, barely holding onto the bark to keep himself upright. Prime, was he already going insane? The sun hadn’t even rose yet, and he was already barely standing on shakey legs, laughing and crying into the void.

The void laughed back.

Tommy barely had a second to react before he felt the harsh bite of the axe into his shoulder, and was pinned to the tree like a butterfly to a board, forced to stare face to face with his hunter.

Dream's mask was askew, his eyes manic (no, he realised, his eye, a sickening feeling grasping his stomach as it dawned on him one had been ripped out, leaving an empty, scarred socket). His mouth was twisted into a grin, half as manic as his eyes but half eerily familiar, reminding him of the look on Wilbur's face when they’d first met again after the two of them had moved to the SMP.

After too-long and not-long-enough, Dream yanked back the axe, causing Tommy to crumple to the floor as a new wave of pain emanated through his body. He struggled for breath, not even enough energy to scream, and barely even notice the hand ruffling through his hair brotherly.

Claws grasped tightly around his hair after a moment, yanking him back up onto his feet. He barely avoided falling back onto his knees after Dream let go, as he shakily ran as fast as he could, deeper into the forest, ignoring the eyes bored in on his every move, the wheezing laughed echoing off the trees, the sinking feeling that this too was just another part of the game.

——

Tommy took shakey breaths, curling in on himself and trying to be as quiet as possible, small as possible. He instinctively raised his hand to his shoulder for what must have been for the thousandth time. It’s still surprising when he doesn’t feel it slick with blood, just cold like marble, like a corpse.

(He really was just a dead body forced to keep walking around, wasn’t he? He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror anymore, and the confirmation it wasn’t just skin deep felt almost as sickening as the agonising pain going from his shoulder all the way down to his fingers as they lay limp and unresponsive.)

“Come 'ere, Tommy!” Dream said to himself with a clear smile in his voice. God, Tommy sweared he hadn’t shut up since he’d first found him, and he still jumped whenever he heard it. He’d collapsed into the bushes the second he’d had a moment of silence, but that couldn’t just fucking last, could it? “I know you’re here, Tommy. Come on, stop hiding,” he said, voice filled with the same condescension one would have talking to a child or a frightened animal. “I don’t want to have to burn down the forest, but I will if I have to.”

Tommy's eyes darted, frightened, through the greenery. He’d had the luck to manage to collapse away from the thorny berry bushes that surrounded him, but he’d have to crawl through them to escape. He couldn’t find it within himself to care, anyway. He was already aching everywhere, and he’d caught one of his trouser legs on a branch, ripping it awfully and letting his leg get stung over and over by nettles until it was red and inflamed. It was already his bad leg, the one that always hung a bit limp after he broke it in the Final Control Room, but mixed with what must have been hours of running from the muted sunset colours painting the plants around him and a few rough trips he wasn’t sure he could even walk anymore.

Still, he couldn’t just sit and wait to burn to death, so when he heard the sound of a spark he desperately crawled through the brambles, clawing through with one good arm and leg, scrambling as fast as he could to try and somehow get a lead. He heard Dream's fucking obnoxious tea-kettle laugh, and grit his teeth as he heard the sound of claws against dirt grow closer.

Tommy tried his best to keep quiet as the thorns dug into his skin, as he had to use his remaining working hand to pull them out as they embedded themselves in his skin. Something other than the gnawing terror grew in his chest, something warm, as he slowly, far too painfully slowly, clawed his way closer and closer to the clear ground, felt the ground turn muddier and more and more of a slog to drag himself through. He could hear the flowing water of a river up ahead, and ridiculously his first thought is relief he can finally get off the dirt and grime uncomfortably coating every inch of him.

He breathed a sigh of relief, the first in who knows how long, as he finally, finally, managed to crawl out of the foliage, clawing his hand onto the clearing. He felt a sense of relief, of finally being free from the awful feeling of the thorns tearing through his clothes and sinking into his flesh. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was hope, but it was the closest he could ever remember to it.

Whatever it was, Tommy quickly felt it die as something heavy came down on his hand, the feeling of his bones being crushed underneath him sending a new wave of nausea through his body, leaving him gagging, not enough in him to even be sick.

Dream pulled him into the air by the scruff of his neck, and Tommy didn’t even have the energy to fight back anymore. He just let himself hang limply from Dream's grip, eyes focused on nothing in particular as his hunter laughed and laughed and laughed hysterically.

“Oh, Prime- Tommy, you should have seen the look on your face!” Dream said in between breaths, wiping an inky black tear from his eyes. “That’s the best part of the hunt, y’know? Watching your enemies hope leave their eyes once they’re reminded who they’re dealing with. Once they know who really holds the power- well, there wasn’t really any question here, but you’re so stubborn, anyway. And all I had to do was strike a match.”

Dream forced Tommy to look at the plants behind him, completely healthy and unburnt. “I didn’t even have to set anything alight, I just had to make you think I did. It’s so easy! You never think ahead, do you, Tommy? When the fear gets to you, there’s nothing different from you and a wild animal. And wild animals can be tamed.”

“Fu-fuck off,” Tommy forced through gagging. “I’m not like- like a fucking wolf, I'm not a pet. I'd rather die.”

Tommy was pretty sure Dream was rolling his eye. “Well, if I have to do both, there’s nothing stopping me. No one knows where we are. I’ve not seen anyone else even come here but you. Even if they go looking for you, they’ll never find us, Tommy. We've got an eternity.”

“Even if? Shut up, prick. I know they’re looking for me. Tubbo's looking for me. Ranboo's looking for me. Wil- Wilbur, he has to be looking for me.” Tommy insisted.

Dream’s face softened into the false concern that pissed off Tommy more than anything. “Wilbur? Why would Wilbur be looking for you? He left you behind with just a forgetful ghost, remember? And Tubbo? Tubbo exiled you once before, what makes you think he’s gonna care now you’re gone again? Did he even try to free you when you were stuck in the prison? Did Ranboo?”

“I-“ Thinking of it, Tommy wasn’t sure if they had. They’d just got married, adopted a kid, and tried to forget about him. He wasn’t going to fucking listen to Dream, though, so he growled, half feral. “Shut up. Just kill me and get it over with, dickhead.”

Dream burst into the wheezing laughter again. “I’m not going to kill you, Tommy. Not here, not now. That’d be far too boring. I'm going to keep going up until you can’t, anymore, and then I'll take you home- to our home, I built it specifically with you in mind, and then maybe we'll get started on the experiments.”

That brought back old memories that Tommy had hoped were gone, tubes and agonising injections and scalpels and being cut open alive again and again. “I’m not being a fucking labrat again.” Tommy said, swallowing and trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.

“You don’t have a choice,” Dream said, sounding far too cheerful about that fact. He carelessly dropped Tommy back to the ground, onto his knees. He ran a hand through Tommy's hair like he was stroking a fucking dog, and Tommy hated how he automatically leant into it, some animalistic, raw sound bubbling from his throat as Dream continued. “Don’t worry, Tommy, I'll take care of you. It’s not like I’m going to lock you in a cage and ignore you or anything. You’re far too fun for that.”

Tommy looked at the ground, trying to hide the fact he could feel his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. How much had he told Dream about everything, during exi- during Logsted- during the “E” times? He yelped as Dream roughly forced his chin up with his claws, digging in harsher than the thorns. Tommy did his very best to avoid looking him in the eyes as he felt his gaze.

“Tommy. Look at me.”

“No,” he said without thinking. By the time he realised what he said, before he could even open his mouth he was being dragged by his hair. The pain was almost as bad as his hand, as he was unable to even try and take the weight onto anything but the chunkful of hair Dream had a vice grip on. Tommy bit his tongue, trying his best not to scream.

He didn’t even realise what was going on until his head was shoved under the freezing water. He took a lungful of water in with a breath, desperately flailing with what strength he had left with what limbs he could move. The cold stung at his eyes, his skin, feeling like a thousand needles stuck through every nerve on his head, and he couldn’t stop himself from hyperventilating, taking in more and more water until suddenly he just felt too tired to move, too calm to care, and his head was suddenly yanked back out into the air.

He coughed up water, taking in a few breaths, and before he could fully comprehend what was going on he was under the water again, burning his lungs and making him want to peel his skin off. He wasn’t sure how many of the horrible, repetitive cycles he went through of the drowning, under until he felt like he was going to drown, then up for a few precious breaths only to be forced back into the water again. The worst part was that he couldn’t help thinking, well, this is better than the salt water, better than the exile.

Finally, after what feels like hours he's pulled back onto the bank, curling up in on himself and gagging up mouthfuls of water. He closed his eyes and saw Log- saw the beach, opened them and saw the forest, until they started to blur together, mud and tents and fresh and salt water mixing into one.

He painfully forced himself up on one elbow after finally he didn’t feel like he was going to vomit up any more water, and he heard Dream hum. “So you can still crawl, hmm? I‘ll give you a ten minutes head start, and you better have moved by the times up.”

“But-“

“I told you, this ends when you can’t keep going anymore. Not when you won’t.” Tommy flinched away from the sternness of the voice, expecting another blow. “Maybe I'd have given you some pity, if you hadn’t defied me. Unless you liked it under the river, I���d suggest you obey.”

Tommy didn’t need to be told twice.

——

Tommy had barely managed to crawl from the river, behind a boulder, when he collapsed completely.

He couldn’t move anymore, could barely blink. It was still sunrise, the last of the stars having disappeared. The colours were pretty.

Prime, he was tired.

He felt back like when he was little, and Philza had just taken Tubbo in, and he’d stayed up all night comforting him after he’d had a nightmare, and he was so tired he’d started seeing shit, yet feeling like he couldn’t sleep yet, he needed to stay awake.

He’d never see Tubbo again. He thought he’d feel sad about that, but he just felt resigned. Sadness required energy he didn’t have.

All he could really focus on was the feeling of the breeze against his skin, the heavy feeling against his chest as he focused on breathing, in, out, in, out, the burning in his throat and his shoulder and his hand. They felt like the only things real anymore, everything else a dull snapshot that felt so distant, so far away.

He knew he should panic when he heard the sound of claws tapping on the ground, words that blurred into one big mess, but he couldn’t. He just felt tired, frozen.

He’d heard, once, that when deers stand in the headlights of an upcoming car they freeze instead of running or fighting. Tommy thought that was stupid back then. Now, dimly, it made sense. Staying still was just so much easier, and sometimes all you could do was conserve your energy.

He wanted to just close his eyes, to sleep, but something at the back of his mind screamed at him that Dream wouldn’t like it.

He feels a hand ruffle through his hair before he sees him, and for a second he thinks of Wilbur, back when Tommy was very little. He used to have nightmares back then, and he’d cry all night and wake up Wilbur and Wilbur would tell him made up stories about grand nations and heroes with cocky grins and electric blue eyes with cool brothers that wrote songs and loved the ocean.

Wilbur wasn’t here, though. It was just Tommy and Dream. Just Tommy and Dream now and forever.

“‘M tired,” he whined, leaning into Dream's touch automatically. Dream laughed.

“You must be. C'mon, let’s go home.”

Tommy didn't resist as Dream picked him up effortlessly, slung over his shoulder like a hunters prize catch. It hurt his shoulder, and he bit his tongue, vaguely remembering he didn't like showing weakness. He felt like more of a placeholder in Tommy's shell, like Tommy had fallen asleep awake and he was the replacement.

He tried to focus on Dream. Focus on something but the static of tiredness clouding his head. Being like that felt dangerous, like something he wasn’t allowed to do. But Dream was there, physically there, and Tommy focused on the feeling of his bony shoulder, the sharp claws gently holding him steady, the feeling of hair brushing against the tattered remains of his hoodie.

“Y'know,” Dream said, more to himself than to Tommy, “I've got materials for some regen potions back home. With them, your hand could be able to heal in a few weeks, and then we can do this all over again. That'd be nice.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no.”

“'T wouldn’t be fun. I don’t wanna do this ever again.”

Dream laughed to himself slightly. “I wasn’t asking. Not everything is about you, Tommy. Now, go to sleep. I want you aware when I show you our new home.”

“'Mkay.”

Dream laughed again. “You'll really do anything I say like this, won't you?”

Tommy shook his head, ignoring how dizzy it made him. “Nah, 'm just… tired.” he said, finishing with a yawn, making Dream laugh again. That was good, he thought. It was just him and Dream, right? They just had each other, now, they should try and help each other.

Tommy knew he should have been frightened, he should have been fucking terrified, but all he could think of drifting off to sleep was that he just hoped tomorrow would be less exhausting.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

[the-rad-pineapple]

i want u

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Supernatural oneshot: After they found a way to get Cas back from the Empty, things go back to normal between Dean and Cas. Dean thinks he made up the whole love confession thing. It was exactly what he wants to hear. Plus, he’s re-written his own memories before like when he lost Cas in Purgatory all those years ago. It totally makes sense he’d make up a love confession to cope with Cas leaving him again. Dean’s suspicions are confirmed when Cas comes back and doesn’t say anything about it to Dean. And things go back to normal as if it never happened. Because it didn’t.

Words: 2.7k

I’ve been writing angsty stuff for my current WIP, but then I had an angsty day and needed something sweet. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Inspired by Violent by Cummrs

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ao3

fanfiction

wattpad

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Today is one of the best days ever. Sam married Eileen. Dean cried. Multiple times. He ate too much at the reception and got a little tipsy. His best man speech rocked, though. Sam and Eileen left ages ago. They’re having their honeymoon in California. Dean can’t be happier. Everyone left a couple hours after them. The last people to leave were Jody, Claire, Kaia, and Jack.

Now Dean and Cas are sitting against the empty wall of the dirty dance floor. Music is still playing, and it echoes across the empty room, making the moment feel ethereal. Miscellaneous wedding decorations and napkins litter the floor. A lone broken high heel lays near the edge of the dance floor. Dean takes a swig of a champaign bottle and passes it to Cas. Cas doesn’t have his shoes on for some reason. He said it was easier to dance without them or something. He takes a drink from the champaign bottle. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned a few buttons on the top. His suit jacket disappeared hours ago. His hair is messy. He looks so good as a human. Cas hands the bottle back to Dean.

Dean takes it and stares at the empty floor in front of them. “This is the best day ever,” Dean decides. He takes a drink and hands the bottle back to Cas.

Cas hums. “It is one of the best I’ve ever had,” he agrees and takes a long drink.

“Mmhmm.” Dean leans his head against the wall and stares at Cas. The singular white light in the center of the ceiling casts long shadows on Cas’ face, making his face full of dark, sharp angles. It reminds Dean of the Cas he met in a barn over a decade ago. Dean lets the nostalgia wash over him as he stares at his best friend. Cas takes another drink from the champaign bottle and swallows. It’s really distracting, especially when Cas has his shirt unbuttoned like that.

After they found a way to get Cas back from the Empty, things went back to normal between them. Dean thinks he made up the whole love confession thing. It was exactly what he wants to hear. Plus, he’s re-written his own memories before like when he lost Cas in Purgatory all those years ago. It totally makes sense he’d make up a love confession to cope with Cas leaving him again. Dean’s suspicions were confirmed when Cas came back and didn’t say anything about it to Dean. And things went back to normal as if it never happened. Because it didn’t.

And Dean doesn’t really care. It hurt at first, but that was eclipsed by the ecstasy of having Cas back. He’ll take Cas in any way he can get. Angel. Human. Friend. Lover. Anything. Just as long as Cas is here and safe.

Cas hands the bottle back to Dean. Dean finishes it and sets the empty bottle down beside him. They don’t really have a reason to stay here anymore. It’s also getting late. And Dean is tired. They should go back to their hotel. Jody booked everyone a room at the hotel nearby as a wedding gift.

“I don’t want to move,” Cas says.

Dean chuckles. “Me neither.”

A comfortable silence lapses between them. The music is still playing. Dean closes his eyes.

“Dean.”

“Mmm,” Dean answers.

“I don’t want to move, but I also don’t want to sleep here.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, yeah.” He opens his eyes and looks at Cas again. Cas is staring at him. Dean smiles. “What?”

Cas’ smile turns sad. “Nothing.” He looks away. “I suppose we should stand up now.”

“I suppose.”

Cas sighs and tugs his shoes forward. He slowly puts them on and ties them. Dean watches. Cas’ hands work carefully and precisely. Cas’ hands look soft. He finally stands up and looks down at Dean. He offers Dean a hand. Dean grabs it and stands up. Cas releases Dean’s hand, and Dean wishes he didn’t. Dean doesn’t want this moment to end. He likes being near Cas, and he knows once they get to the hotel, they’ll separate. It’s clingy as shit, but it’s how Dean feels. And he can’t do anything about that, can he?

He used to shove down those thoughts and feelings like they were something toxic. But, over time, he stopped doing that. He’s not exactly sure why. Maybe he’s just getting more comfortable with himself. Maybe he just doesn’t care enough to push them away. Maybe he’s just getting old. Maybe it’s all of those things. Dean doesn’t really know. And he doesn’t really care.

Cas smiles sadly at him again and turns away. Cas does that a lot now. Smile sad. He’s done it ever since he got back from the Empty. Dean thinks Cas misses being an angel.

Dean follows Cas down the short hallway and out into the parking lot. The Impala is the only car left. The summer air is warm and humid. The stars twinkle above them. Dean reaches into his pocket and grabs his keys, already missing today. It was so blissful and happy. Dean’s still adjusting to not feeling completely shitty all the time, let alone happy. It’s nice but also kind of weird.

They both head over to the Impala, and Dean unlocks it. They get inside. Dean turns the radio on to a low volume. The streets are practically empty, and the drive back to the hotel is relaxing. He also enjoys Cas’ presence, even if they’re both too tired to say anything. Just being around Cas makes Dean content.

They pull into the hotel parking lot and get back outside. The night air is peaceful, and Dean stands for a moment to feel it. He’s happy. Really happy. And so is Sam. They somehow did it. Part of Dean is convinced this must be a dream or something.

“Dean?”

Dean turns to look. Cas is standing in front of him, the lights from the hotel outline him. He’s so pretty. “Sorry,” Dean says. “Just don’t want this day to end, you know?”

Cas smiles. This time it isn’t sad. “Me neither.”

An idea pops into Dean’s head. “Wanna watch a movie in my room? We got the fancy tv’s here.”

Cas’ smile grows. “I would like that.”

Dean smiles back. “Awesome.”

----

Dean picks the first action movie he sees. He and Cas are sitting on his bed. Their shoulders are touching. It would take barely any effort for Dean to rest his head on Cas’ shoulder. He doesn’t.

Not even halfway through the movie, Cas starts to fall asleep. It’s selfish, but Dean doesn’t wake him up. He’ll take as many moments as he can with Cas. Besides, Dean will wake him up once the movie is over. But Dean doesn’t count on drifting off himself.

“Dean.”

Dean jerks awake, immediately on alert. He doesn’t have a gun on him, and he goes rigid.

“Dean,” Cas says again, gently.

Dean blinks and blows out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Oh, that’s right. They’re fine. They’re in a hotel. Sam got fucking married today.

Cas continues, “I think we missed the movie.”

Dean chuckles and looks over to him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Cas looks sleepy. His eyes are half open and his hair somehow got messier. His clothes are wrinkled, and he has a dazed smile on his face. He’s gorgeous.

Dean smiles. “You can stay here if you want, sleepyhead.”

Cas lifts his head up from where it was resting against the wall. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. You never are.”

Cas smiles at him again. But it’s one of the sad ones. “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” They stare at each other. The longer it gets, the more awkward it is, but Dean can’t look away. To break the silence, he says, “I can take the couch.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

They stare at each other again, but Dean is too tired to care. He closes his eyes.

A few moments pass before Cas says, “We can share the bed if you’re comfortable with that.”

Dean cracks his eyes open. “Yeah, okay.” He ignores how his heart jumps in excitement. They’re not even going to do anything, and he’s elated. Dean kicks off his shoes and automatically starts unbuckling his pants and freezes. “Is it okay if I don’t have pants on?” He glances at Cas.

Cas is already halfway under the covers. His eyes flick over Dean’s body. It’s so fast that Dean thinks he makes it up. “Yes, that’s fine,” Cas answers.

The mental image of Cas checking him out—real or not—makes Dean blush, and he quickly looks away and finishes taking his pants off. He shuts down every dirty thought he gets in the process; it’s easier than it usually is since he’s so damn tired.

Dean turns to Cas, and Cas is definitely staring at his bare legs this time. “Can I turn the light off?” Dean asks.

Cas’ eyes snap up to meet Dean’s. “Um, yes.” His cheeks turn pink.

Dean stares for a second and then realizes he’s probably making things worse by staring and quickly looks away at the lamp on his bedside table. He hits the switch and slides underneath the covers. He can feel Cas’ body heat next to him and forgets how to breathe. The temptation of having the one thing he wants most in the universe right next to him is too much. He’s tense and as close to the edge of the bed as he can be without falling off. Dean is wide awake now. He doubts he’ll get a wink of sleep.

Cas shifts beside him, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. Thankfully, Cas doesn’t seem to notice. Cas’ breathing evens out. Dean closes his eyes and focuses on the sound. He wants this so fucking bad it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut harder when he feels the pin-prickle of tears forming. He won’t cry. Not on a good day like today. He spent way too many nights drinking and crying himself to sleep when he thought Cas was dead forever. He won’t do that when he has Cas literally right next to him. Dean swallows down the lump forming in his throat. As sleep tugs at his mind and consciousness begins to fade, he can’t help but think, I love you. I love you so fucking much. I think it’s killing me.

----

Dean wakes up, and he can’t remember where he is. He knows it isn’t the bunker. He feels a body next to him. He’s not even fully awake, and he can’t bring himself to remember who he’s in bed with. Damn. It’s been a while since he’s had a one-night stand. Loneliness stabs him in the chest, and he shifts towards the warmth of the person beside him. He reaches on arm out, and touches their back. He snakes a hand around their waist and pulls himself against them. Dean feels them begin to stir.

“Shh, go to sleep,” he murmurs.

That seems satisfactory, and they relax. They interlace their fingers with the hand Dean has draped over their waist. Dean pulls them closer. He’s so fucking needy and lonely. He wishes he was holding Cas. He pretends he is.

----

Dean’s pillow feels weird. It’s lumpy but soft. It’s very warm. It also smells like Cas. Which is also weird. Why does his pillow smell like Cas? Cas is dead. But, no. No. Cas is alive. He has been for months now. Dean just forgets when he wakes up sometimes.

Dean keeps his eyes closed as he rests. Any second he’s not fully awake is a good one. Dean then realizes his pillow has a heartbeat. Dean’s pillow might not be a pillow. He’s lying on someone. Someone who smells like Cas.

Dean’s heartrate spikes, and he jerks his head up.

Cas blinks up at him. “Are you alright?” Cas asks, his voice deep with sleep. Well, deeper than usual.

“Yes,” Dean says. “I just forgot you’re alive.”

Cas blinks again. “Oh.” He reaches up with one hand and cups Dean’s face. “Well, I’m alive.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Cas smiles back. It’s the brightest smile Dean’s seen on him since he’s been back. But then it turns sad. Like it always does. Cas starts to pull his hand away, but Dean quickly grabs it. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing; he’s still not even fully awake. Dean closes his eyes and leans further into Cas’ touch, keeping his hand on Cas’. He doesn’t want Cas to move away.

Cas’ breath hitches. “Dean,” he begins.

And Dean can tell by Cas’ tone that he is going to tell Dean to let go or something. Dean doesn’t want that. “Shh,” Dean says.

“Dean,” Cas says more firmly and tugs on his hand. Dean doesn’t let go. “Don’t do this.”

Dean opens his eyes. Cas’ smile is gone, and all the sadness has moved to his eyes. “Do what?” Dean asks.

“I know you’re doing this just because of what I told you before the Empty took me.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t feel obligated to…to sleep in the same bed as me or hold my hand like this just because I love you.”

“What?”

The hurt in Cas’ eyes throws Dean off so much that Cas manages to snatch his hand back.

Dean stares. Then swallows. “I thought I made that up,” Dean whispers.

“Made what up?”

“That you—that you…” Dean swallows again. Why is his mouth so dry? “That you lo—” His voice cracks. He furiously blinks back tears. “You said that, right?”

“You don’t remember?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I do, I just…I thought I made that up. Because I—I want…” He licks his lips. “I want you.”

Cas stares at him with wide eyes.

Dean’s blood runs cold. “Wait, am I completely misinterpreting this, oh my god, Cas, I’m so sor—”

“You want me?” Cas is still staring. His eyes still wide with disbelief.

Dean’s already gone this far. There’s no turning back now. Might as well tell Cas everything. “You’re all I ever wanted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Absolutely not!” Dean is just as surprised at his outburst as Cas is. He takes a deep breath before continuing, much calmer this time, “Cas, I have a hard time saying, ‘I love you’ to Sam. Why would I ever say that to you unless I completely mean it?”

“You didn’t say, ‘I love you,’” Cas tells him. “You said, ‘I want you.’ There’s a difference.”

That stubborn motherfucker. But Dean can be stubborn right back. This will show him! “Well, I love you. So there,” Dean states, staring at Cas to challenge him on that.

“Oh…” Cas’ gaze becomes distant.

“Yeah, not so fun being on the receiving end of a love confession, is it?”

Cas is unresponsive.

Uh, oh. Dean cups his face with one of his hands. “Cas, buddy, look at me.”

Cas’ eyes finally focus on Dean. “Y-yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Yes,” Cas repeats.

Dean leans in and gently presses his lips against Cas’. There’s a moment where neither of them move, as if what they’re doing isn’t real, but then Cas’ mouth opens up under Dean’s, and Dean moves in closer. He still has one hand on Cas’ face and moves it back to tangle in his hair. Dean allows himself to get lost in the kiss. It’s slow and gentle and even better than anything he dreamed a kiss could ever be. It’s all Cas, Cas, and more Cas, and Dean’s heart is soaring. He pulls back just far enough to whisper, “I love you so much.” before kissing Cas again, a little more desperately this time.

Dean isn’t quite sure how long they do this; kiss each other stupid with their bodies pressed into each other, but he treasures every second of it.

This day is somehow even better than yesterday. And, who knows? Tomorrow might even be better than today. But one thing Dean knows for sure is that they have all the time in the world, and he’s not going to waste a single minute.

[davidpastrsnack]

drive (pt. 2) - matthew tkachuk

a/n: ngl i’m not obsessed with this chapter. it’s kind of a filler but i promise things will get more juicy in the next one. hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

part one

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words as you looked at him in complete shock. 

You must have been hearing things, because there was no way Matthew just asked you to move to Calgary with him. 

“What?” you exclaimed. “You’re right, I do think you’re crazy,” you said with a chuckle. 

Matthew sat up straighter in the chair preparing to make his case, your body shifting with his. 

“Why? You’re just going to live at home while you try to figure out this job stuff, so why not do it with me in Calgary?” he spoke like it was the most obvious thing ever. 

He was dead serious about this. 

“Matthew, it's not that simple. I can’t just pick up and move with no plan. And to a different country? There’s a little thing called a border.”

“I’ll have my agent help with anything you need for your visa and I have a spare bedroom. Come on, Y/N. No offense to them, but do you want to spend your first year out of college living with your parents or with me?” he questioned. 

You rolled your eyes at his comment, you knew he loved your parents but he had a point. Still, there was just no way this would work out. You had only met some of his teammates once before, and now you’re just supposed to join their circle? Not to mention your feelings for him were at the forefront of your mind. You felt lucky that you never had to watch girl after girl fall at his feet because that wasn’t his life back home. It was a perfect example of ignorance is bliss. Moving to the city with him would rip that ignorance away and you didn’t know if you could handle that. 

You were silent for a minute, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the crickets. You looked down and played with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, trying to gather your thoughts as he gazed at you hopefully. 

“Matty,” you started, “I appreciate you trying to help me, but I don’t see this happening. I don’t even have a job, how am I supposed to pay for a huge move like this?” you asked, not expecting an answer, but he had one anyway. 

“Is that a joke?” He laughed. “Not to sound like an asshole, but have you seen my contract? Y/N, I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “When have you ever tried not to sound like an asshole.”

He scoffed right back, but the words that followed were his most sincere of the night. “Just think about it, please, Y/N. I hate to see you so stressed about everything, you don’t deserve it. So just let me take care of you,” he whispered, looking up at you with the softest eyes. 

Your heart ached at his words. No matter how much you denied it, you were completely and utterly fucked for this man. If you went with him you knew it would only be a matter of time before you exposed yourself, which would most likely result in your lifelong friendship blowing up. You couldn’t let that happen. 

But before you could speak again, he opened his mouth, “Listen, I’m not letting you say no tonight. Sleep on it.”

“Fine,” you groaned, standing up from your post across his thighs. “I’ll think about it.”

He jumped up after you, throwing his arm around your shoulders pulling you in close while you both walked towards the house. 

“Just think about how much fun we’re gonna have. It’s cold though, you’re gonna have to get over that,” he chirped with a cheeky grin.  

“Well good thing I haven’t said yes,” you teased back, slipping inside the door he held open for you. 

-----

You woke up to the sun pouring through your windows, mentally cursing yourself for forgetting to close the curtains last night. You weren’t surprised though, your brain was absolute mush after hearing Matthew’s proposal. You rolled over to check your phone, the screen reading 7:12am. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled into your pillow. Emma was still passed out next to you, the bright light not at all phasing her. You ran your hands over your face, pausing to tangle them in your hair. It was way too early, but you also knew there was no chance of falling back asleep, so you pulled yourself out of bed and headed into the bathroom. 

You barely slept that night, there was just too much on your mind. The more you thought about it, you realized Matthew was right. It would be good for you to do something new during this time of your life. No matter how much you tried to resist it, you could feel him slowly but surely luring you in. 

You headed downstairs into the kitchen, needing caffeine immediately if you were going to be awake this early. You had the whole space to yourself and you sat on top of the counter while you waited for the coffee machine to heat up. The house was quiet and the view of the lake was helping to calm all your uncertainties. The water was flat like glass, the reflection of the trees clear as a photograph. You quickly got lost in the peaceful image, not even hearing the front door open. 

“Morning, sunshine,” you heard from behind you. 

He may have been on a mini vacation this weekend, but Matthew still started training camp in two weeks. He had clearly just come back from a run, his tall frame standing in front of you in just a pair of sneakers and basketball shorts. His toned chest was glistening with sweat and you had to physically pull your eyes away before he caught you staring. 

“Morning,” you replied, returning your gaze to the windows. 

“What are you doing down here? I’ve never seen you get up before ten unless you absolutely had to,” he spoke as he grabbed water from the fridge. Damn him for knowing you so well. 

“Uh- I don’t know,” you nervously muttered, not wanting to admit that you were up all night thinking about him. 

“Busy making up your mind?” he smirked, leaning against the countertop giving you the perfect view of his flexed arms. 

You rolled your eyes, mumbling a thank you as he slid a cup of coffee towards you, made exactly how you liked it. The two of you sat there for a few minutes slowly sipping the hot liquid from the matching mugs. Matthew was busy texting Keith and his trainer, both making sure that he was staying on track while away from the gym, while you kept admiring the lake. It never failed to amaze you how comfortable you two were around each other. The room was silent, but it wasn’t awkward at all. In that moment you decided it was time to give him an answer, suddenly throwing all caution to the wind. 

“Matty?” you asked, turning your body to face his as he sat on the stool next to you. 

“Hmm?” he responded, putting his phone to the side and meeting your gaze. 

You took in a long breath, wondering if you were really about to do this. 

“I’ll go with you,” you spoke softly. 

The grin that spread on his face was unmatched to anything else you had ever seen. The corners of his mouth were practically reaching his forehead and his baby blue eyes lit up at your words. 

“I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” he teased, gloating in the fact that he convinced you. 

“Matthew I will change my mind right now.”

“No, no way,” he stood up, stepping closer and wrapping you up in his arms, squeezing your frame tight as it sunk in that you were really coming with him. 

Your body relaxed in his grasp, your arms slinking around his waist to hold him to you. His head rested on top of yours, both of you so at ease with the other. 

“I promise you won’t regret it,” he whispered. 

“You need to shower,” you joked, feeling like it was time to break the embrace. There was only so long friends could hug platonically and you guys were seconds away from crossing that line. 

He laughed as he finally pulled away, “Whatever you say, roomie.” 

“Roomie?” 

Your head twisted to the other side of the room to see Brady standing in the hall. Great, you thought, just what you needed. It was one thing for you and Matthew to talk about this but you couldn’t deny that you were nervous to see everyone’s reactions, especially both of your families.  

“Y/N is coming to Calgary with me,” Matthew stated. You waited for Brady’s next words, noting the warning glare his older brother was sending him. 

“She is?” he raised his eyebrows, shifting his gaze to you. The look on his face was worth a thousand words: Brady was onto you. 

But little did you know, he was also onto Matthew. 

“Yup,” you anxiously laughed.

To say it was awkward would be the understatement of the century. 

“Alright well I’m gonna go shower,” Matthew broke the silence, moving towards the staircase to go upstairs. 

You and Brady nodded, neither one of you speaking until he was out of sight. Your eyes were focused on the cup of coffee in front you, refusing to make eye contact with him because you knew what was coming. 

“You know, I don’t even think I need to say anything,” he started. 

You scoffed louded at his words, standing up to go back into your room to get ready for the day. You weren’t in the mood for his teasing, especially not when it only reminded you of what you would never have. 

“Y/N, wait,” he pleaded, his attitude quickly shifting, the regret clear in his voice. 

“What, Brady?” you snapped, turning to face him. 

“It’s not just you. He’s compared every girl to you for as long as I can remember.”

You shook your head at him in disbelief. There was no way that was true, and Brady was seriously messed up if he thought screwing with you like this was funny. 

“Look, you don’t have to agree with me right now, but I’m giving you two a month of living together before you finally pull your heads out of your asses,” he stated confidently. 

“Don’t hold your breath,” you chuckled, finally heading up the stairs. 

-----

Just a week later you found yourself arriving at Calgary International Airport, Matthew right by your side. Your parents had been more supportive of your decision than you expected, but then again they had always loved Matthew. The two of you were sitting by the baggage claim waiting for your luggage when the exhaustion of the day finally hit. On top of that, the airline warned that there were baggage delays, so you didn’t plan on getting out of here soon. You didn’t mean to, but you let out an obnoxiously loud yawn as you caught up on your social media feeds. 

“You alright there?” Matthew joked, looking at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“Yes, dad, I’m fine,” you countered. 

“I’m gonna go get coffee, we both need it. The usual?” he asked, standing up before you could tell him he didn’t have to get it for you. 

You knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you opted for a simple nod. Just a few moments later, a young boy who was with a man that you assumed was his father tentatively walked up to you. 

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but was that Matthew Tkachuk?” the man inquired. 

You smiled at them both, remembering that Matthew wasn’t exactly nobody in this city. “Yeah, it is.” The boy’s face lit up at your words, clearly a huge Flames fan. 

“You guys can wait with me, he should be back any minute now and I’m sure he’d love to say hi,” you encouraged. No matter how well known Matthew had become, he always made the time to stop for kids. 

The pair sat down across from your seat, patiently waiting for the hockey player’s return. It wasn’t long until you saw him walking back towards you, two coffees in hand. When he saw the people with you he had a quizzical look on his face, but you gave him a gentle nod to let him know it was okay. Once he got closer, he realized just what was happening. 

“Hi there,” he smiled, “I’m Matthew.” He paused to hand you your coffee before shaking hands with the man and sinking down to his knees to fist bump the boy. 

They settled into an easy conversation, the boy finally warming up after the shock of meeting one of his idols. Matthew was unbelievably good with kids, and no matter how many times you saw it, he still made your heart flutter each time. It came so naturally to him, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to how incredible of a father he was going to be someday. After you took some pictures and Matthew signed a few autographs, the pair went back to their own baggage carousel. 

He settled back into his chair next to yours, sighing as he ran his hands through his brown curls. 

“That was really nice of you, Matthew,” 

“It’s nothing. I used to be that kid,” he said, trying to brush it off. 

“I’m serious, you didn’t have to do that. You’re a great person when you want to be,” you teased. 

“Yeah? And how’s that coffee I just went to get you?” he chirped right back, bumping his shoulder into yours with a grin across his face. 

-----

After Matthew stubbornly refused to let you carry your own bags out, you two were finally sitting in the back of an Uber on the way to his apartment. It was nearly dusk and the city was lit up with the beautiful, golden light of the approaching sunset. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” you heard from beside you, Matthew’s voice snapping you out of your daze. 

“Yeah it is,” you smiled, meeting his gaze to find him already looking at you. 

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at his building, Matthew stopping at the front desk to introduce you to the concierge. It was the first of what you assumed to be many times someone would be confused by your situation, and you knew you would soon get used to saying, “Oh no, we’re not- we’re just friends.”

After heading up the elevator and walking down the hall, Matthew unlocked his door, letting you walk in first as he followed. 

“Wow, not bad,” you mumbled, taking in the interior. It was the definition of a bachelor’s pad, the dark, sleek design a clear reflection of his lifestyle. 

“I just moved in at the end of last season so it’s missing some things, but yeah, it’s not bad,” he laughed. 

You walked over to the floor length windows taking in the view of the lit up city around you. You crossed your arms over your chest, the fact that you were really here was definitely settling in. But something about it just felt right, like you belonged here. Matthew’s body slid next to yours, joining you to admire his home after so long away. 

“I’ll show you around tomorrow and we can get dinner or something with the guys that are back already,” he spoke, pulling you into his side with his arm. Your head fell to rest on his shoulder. “I really want this to feel like home for you,” he said softly. 

You slipped your arms around his torso reciprocating his embrace, “Thank you, Matty.”

“Let me show you your room,” he spoke as he grabbed your hand to guide you into the rest of the apartment. 

You and Matthew spent the night unpacking and settling in. He ordered food, making sure to give you the rundown on all his favorite spots, before putting on a movie. After eating more than either of you should have, you found yourself cuddled into his side on the couch, a fuzzy blanket covering your bodies and his frame vibrating beneath you each time he laughed at the screen. You don’t remember when, but at some point you drifted off on his chest, only to be woken up to him carrying you to bed. 

Yeah, you could get used to this. 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Loss

The secretary flinched on her seat when she heard the glass door of the hospital shattering and yelped in fear when THE Overhaul slammed his fists on her desk, eyes burning with rage as he almost shouted.

"(L/n) (Y/n). Tell me where the fuck is her. NOW." she trembly nodded while picking her notebook on and the telephone.

He had received a call on the middle of a meeting, mentally rolling his eyes in irritation as he excused himself and accepted the call.

The way his eyes had widen in horror and how he stormed out of the room made everyone not only scared, but each one to have certain curiosity and worrover the situation.

What happened to let Overhaul on that state?

A doctor came by along with his nurse and Chisaki grabbed the hem of his jacket, the glare he was still wearing seemed like fire was going to spill from them by any moment while he demanded thhat he spilled out what the fuck had happened.

"S-She suffered a accident." The doctor gasped out, breathing in a long sigh of relief when the man let go "A villain fight on the center, the man accompanying her didn't survived but she is still alive." They patted their clothing, shakily looking up at the fuming man in front of them.

"The ambulance found her phone and saw it on her emergency contacts yout number. You're family or friend?"

"Mind your own business and let me in." He shoved past the doctor and abruptly entered the room, ignoring the nurses pleas for him to wait.

The sign of your bruised and beaten up image made him want to vomit... the bandaged wrapped around your head as your hair was sprawled out on the pillow you were laying on...

He felt his throat tightening as his eyes seemed to burn... slowly reaching the bed to caress your patched up face with his thumb carefully...

The only comforting sounds he heard on that cursed cold room were the beeping of the machine... indicating that you were unconscious, but alive no less.

"Get the fuck out." He muttered angrily as his hands turned into shaking fists, the doctors and nurses frowing but yet respecting his demand.

He carefully grabbed your hand on his both gloved ones as he took the seat next to you... He controlled the urge of shouting and letting his tears fall as he numbly stared at the bedsheets, his attention focused only on the beeping.

~

He ended up falling asleep on that place, head resting on his crossed arms on the bed.

He, for the first time, thanked the heavens for letting him have a light sleep, because he woke up with your stiring and weak groans.

Chisaki jerked up, eyes wide as his lips trembled a bit at seing his angel's eyes finally cracking open.

"(Y/n)..." he breathed, lowering his mask down when you looked at him confusedly "(Y/n)! My angel, thank god!" He, without thinking straight, wrapped his arms around you tightly as he breathed in on your scent and kissed with tears rolling down his face.

He only came to realize later that instead of feeling your arms wrapping around him or even a cute little giggle of yours, your body had tensed up under his hold...

Now it was his time to frow, grapping onto your shoulders as he parted only for a few inches.

"Angel I swear on my grave that I am not sending any garbage to accompany you anymore..." he talked, looking at your confused and quite... feared eyes.

"U-uh..." you awkwardly muttered as you slowly but firmly brought your hands to his gloved ones and took them off from your shoulder... Chisaki arching a eyebrow at your action in total dissaproval when you placed his hands to himself.

Then he widened his eyes in complete horror and disgust, hives appearing om his pale skin as his brain processed those despicable words he never once thought he would hear it from you ever again...

"Who... who are you?"

~

"It seems that after the impact, her brain got affected by the section where it lands the data of her memories..." the doctor spoked as him tapped his finger on his chin while analyzing your X-ray.

Chisaki didn't even dared to say a word... not even being a complete arrogant towards the man as he explained the situation of his partner.

"Her brain is still functioning and she has still her memories from her whole period of school aparently."

"... then why?" He asked in a numb tone as he stared at his closed gloved hands.

"It seems to be a rare type of amnesia ... she actually remembers all of yesterday's events for example; but due to the blow she must have received, the part where the memory about you is kept was the most affected."

"What's the cure?" He growled immediately, trying to surpress his angry shaking.

"There is no cure mister..." the doctor grunted when Chisaki grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"You as a doctor have the fucking obligation to find a cure or at least treat any diseases on this planet so you got the nerves to say that THIS doesn't have even a fucking treatment?!" He shouted, the doctor still keeping his calm attitude somehow.

"The human brain is a complicated thing... she might return her memories or not. We can't know. The maximum you can do now is try little by little to show what you were to her..." he mentally sighed in relief when Chisaki putted him down slowly "But not everthing, go slow... she might have a combustion or be too much overwhelmed."

His parted lips trembled underneath his mask as he wordless left the office...

You... didn't know him. Didn't know who he was or what he was to you...

He was a stranger. A fucking stranger to your eyes...

He dragged his feet to your room. You were already standing up and fixing up your hair on a mirror before you yelped at noticing his presence.

"Uh, hello..?" You awkwardly gretted him with a uncomfortable smile, not knowing how long he was standing there.

He nodded as in a gretting before his broken hearted eyes locked with your own. You felt pity over the man... the moment you told him you had no idea who he was he panicked, opened the door of that hospital room and shouted for the nurses to come explain this.

"...Come. I... will take you home." You tilted your head in confusion.

"I... no. Thank you for the offer but I-"

"I know where you live..." he muttered the words "I know this sounds stupid... but I am your.." he breath in to control the burning in his eyes as he looked down at the floor "Your boyfriend."

"Eh?" He wanted to chuckle so badly at hearing that precious confused sound... but the situation didn't let him "... I'm sorry. I... don't remember you..."

"They already told me. How does your house look like? Just to make sure." He tried, afraid of hearing that your answer would be that cursed apartment of yours.

"Uh... its a japanese like style house. Has a yard with beautiful trees on." You smiled, making hin want to scream in frustation.

It was his house. The Shie Hassaikai's house. You remembered the damn place but not him.

"... Come with me." He sayed nonchantly as he shived his fists onto his pockets and left the room, you following him right after.

You entered on his car and didn't speaked a word as he drove... afraid of making more weird the situation than it was already.

You recognize the place as he stopped and left the keys with a subordinate.

"Ah so you weren't trying to kidnapped me or something." You tried to joke, but that man's face didn't even twitched out of that broken shattered look as he only nodded and continued to walk.

He noticed that you didn't recognized the people on there either... being extremely awkwardly. Still, you were extremely polite with everyone of them, especially Pops.

He winced at remembering the first he brought you here... your actions being the same but instead lf just closing in yourself liek now, you found some comfort on him on the new area...

Pops patted his shoulder at seing Chisaki's huge amount of pain on his eyes while all he wanted to do was succumb onto his knees and scream until his vocal cords exploded.

You looked even more uncomfortable when he guided you to your shared bedroom. Noticing your embarrassment and... distrustful look.

"Not comfortable sleeping on the same room with a stranger." He more pointed out than asked.

"Yeaaah." You scratched the back of your neck before looking up at him "B-But i can sleep on the couch! You don't need to-"

"Is not necessary." He interrupted "You have all the rights to keep this room." He left without much of a word, only telling you that dinner was going to be soon and if you needed him, all you have to do is call.

You arched one eyebrowd of yours while watching him go away... what a weird guy.

~

Pops told him he wasn't obligated to do those things and even Chrono had offered to take his shift... but he refused it.

He needed to drown on his work to forget this pain and his misery.

A knock on the door had snapped him out of it as he rubbed his eyes and allowed whoever it was to enter.

"Excuse me? Am I bothering you?" You asked shyly.

"Never." He answered with a sigh "Something wrong?"

You took the opportunity to enter and sit on the chair in front of him, the awkward atmosphere still on the air.

"I... you said you're ny boyfriend. Right?" He nodded numbly "What type then? I-I mean. I want to know you... again." You found the strengh to look at those amber eyes.

Boyfriend or not, this man was hot.

"... You want the absolute true or the only love dovey shit?" You giggled at his boldness, making him for the first time smirk underneath his mask.

"Grab that black album from the shelter. I will try my best."

He couldn't help but smile at seing your curiosity as you paced through the pages, asking him the main events before you pointed out awkwardly that this was kostly you on that thing...

"I don't like taking or seing my own photos... But you always kept pressing me to at least have one or two... with those cursed puppy eyes."

"Cursed?" You asked, arching a eyebrow at seing the same elder you greeted earlier on one of those.

"Yes. Every time you use them I can't just say no."

"Ah! So you're the secret softie type!" You smiled at him whole he couldn't help but glare daggers at you.

He breathless chuckled at your gasp when he told you he was part and the leader if the yakusa and in that exact same moment you were underneath their roof.... although he almost choked up when you had noticed the pingent adoring around his neck.

The yingyang. A symbol that represented you both way too well. He cared one side while you carried the other.

You took your own in your hands and the way your eyes squinted while looking at the pingent made his early feelings return back.

Because he knew with that look of yours... you were trying hard to remember... but you couldn't. Your brain wouldn't let you have those memories back...

"Enough." He picked abruptly the album and placed it over the shelf with a sigh. You apologized and got out from his office shortly after... maybe his attitude had scared you... godammit!

He punched the wall until his gloved hand was all bloody and bruised before he let out a miserable shout.

He lost his angel... he lost your memories. His world was nothing but pure darkness now.

~

You giggled at seing both white haired man and the creature smaller than him arguing on the end of the hall as you passed through it.

One week had passed after your accident and now you were pretty used to with everyone on the house.

Well... almost everyone.

Chisaki was the man who revealed to be your boyfriend but now he just seemed even more broken and depressed then you saw him once on that hospital.

You tried really hard to remember him... but nothing about this man came up. You also noticed how angry he got when you called him 'Overhaul' or only 'Chisaki'...

You explained to him that calling him by his firts name was still a bit uncomfortable, he understood that and simply waved you off... but you still noticed the way he gripped or turned his hands into fits whenever you called him.

Everyone on there was trying to make you regain your memories back desperately. You even caught a taller man discussing with a muscular one on the hallway once about the situation.

"If miss (Y/N) don't recover her memories soon, master will get worse than he is already."

"You're fucking lucky Tengai. Overhaul at least didn't used his quirk on you three times in less the one hour only because you had asked how was his chick doing."

"You beg though for this Rappa."

"I WASN'T BEING FUCKING SARCASTIC THIS TIME! I WAS GENUILY ASKING!"

You choosed to not know of his quirk after you heard that in fear of what you might discover...

You made your way to the bedroom and sitted on the bed with sigh, picking your cellphone to mess with since you didn't even touched the device ever since you put your foot on here.

You frowned when the screen showed up, a picture of the man you trued so hard on remembering... he didn't seemed to have the knowledge that he was being photographed as he seemed to be reading something without his mask on for once.

His eyes were serious but calm while he readed the book, and something that made your heart twist on yiur ribcage was that you noticed that his gloved fingers were interconnected with bare ones right on the corner.

It was your hand in there.

You didn't needed to know his whole life to already know that this man had a despised for touch and was a mysophobic... but you catched plenty times him going to reach for your hand or your hair only to pull his hand back with a broken sigh and walk away frrom you as far as possible.

You had to admit that this pained you somehow.

You dropped your cellphone, not feeling like messing around on it anymore as you shivered at a cold breeze that passed through the window...

You didn't like it very much closed places so you opted to get up and grab a hoodie instead of closing the window.

Just when you opened you saw the iconic green jacket that Overhaul always used whenever he was out or when he just felt like it.

Curiosity consumed you as you caustiously picked and holded close... scenting the intoxicating smell that left you feeling like you were in heaven.

You wondered a bit before shameless wearing the coat on, way bigger than you but you felt... safe.

You took another sniff... gasping and dropping into your butt when a bright and rather painful flash came into your head as you fell.

You groaned and placed your hand on the bed as you tried to get up, wincing as another flash came by making you want to scream in pain... before you saw it.

Him. The man. Your... your boyfriend of three years!

Chisaki Kai.. Chisaki Kai! You remembered him!

~

"KAI!" he stopped writing on the papers when he heard your voice shouting his first name.

... it was his mind playing tricks on him. You didn't called him 'Kai' anymore.

He scoffed and went to return to writing before he dropped his pen and widened his eyes at hearing your screams again.

He got up and opened the door, stepping in on the hall way and looking at both sides.

"KAI!" You breath out, when you turned on a hallway and saw him looking at you with worried yet serious eyes.

You runned towars him withiut a care, jumped on him as he groaned at the impact with the floor, wincing at not knowing if that place was clean or not.

"Kai!" You breath out as you cupped his face on your hands as your tears fell, nuzzling on him "My life, my boyfriend, my devil! I remember! Everthing!" You cried, while Chisaki's eyes widened as his pupils trembled a bit.

He managed to at least sip up, arms now holding you with a iron grip as he still processed while you cried on his shoulder... his own relived tears falling at hearing that you called him your devil.

"(Y/N).." he breathed out in a smile underneath his mask, hugging you even closer as he buried his face on your shoulder with a shaking sigh "My angel... my precious angel you're back..!" He whisper shouted as he holded onto you tight.

He growled in disaproval when you separated before grunting when you grabbed him by the hem of his shirt after yanking his mask down to crash your lips with his... smirking when you felt him sigh on it as his hands went to your waist... straddling his lap.

"I'm so so sorry! How could I ever forget you?!" You whispered between kisses, crying a bit as he hushed you harshly while wiping your tears away with his gloved fingers, taking advantage of your mouth being open to after days taste that scent flavor of his angel he had craved for...

"You aren't the one to blame my love. Never." He said after taking a break for at least to have oxygen back to his chest, helping you up from the floor. "How I wonder? I was running out of hope already..."

"Your scent. Your cologne. When I took your jacket-"

"Ah yes. Little thief." He chuckled at your pout before you skirked devilish and snuggled even more on his coat and on him.

"It was.. like a flash. Kai..." you breathed in on his neck, tearing up at feeling him resting his chin on your head as his gloved fingers worked thorugh your hair.

"My life is so painful and so dark without you my angel... those days were like hell." He admited, subsconciously touching his bare lips on you as a kiss.

Chrono just had stepped in on the room before he quickly turned back when he saw his childhood friend cupping his lover face on his hands as he traced her face with his lips lovely... the skies even seemed to get brighter wben Overhaul's partner recuperated her memory...

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Dear Heart - Chapter 8

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow​​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this update! Sorry I left on the cliffhanger for so long!

Warning(s): stuff that resembles domestic violence at the end

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Chapter 8 here we go!!!

Mentally, Dick was kicking himself. He closed his eyes and tried to forget, but the image of Melanie being pulled from beneath the rubble was all he could see. Her watery eyes as she blinked them open, the soft way she said his name, and how he became absolutely helpless. Somehow, both relief and worry swirled around inside him. He was grateful she was alive but the blood oozing from her hairline couldn’t be good. He was filled with remorse as he recalled how it was Dr. Clarke - he’d learned the man’s name later - who leapt into action and began looking over Melanie. And Dick watched, frozen with the shock of it all. 

He opened his eyes again. The sight of the Bois Jacques replaced his shameful memory. Melanie was safe now, which was what he tried to remind himself. They had gotten her to battalion HQ, where Colonel Sink had given up his own billet so Melanie could have a bed. Another man who could do more for her than Dick could. 

Dr. Clarke determined that Melanie had gotten miraculously lucky. While the blow to her head looked bad considering how much she bled, she only had a concussion. And it was fairly mild. The rest of her body had come through with only scrapes and bruises. Dick was thankful, but still felt an inadequacy about the whole thing. With nothing to do for her, he returned to the line. It had been two days since he’d left her there. Two days of feeling like he failed her somehow. 

“Dick.”

Dick turned his head at the sound of his name. He knew already that it was Lewis’s voice, so he did his best to appear somewhat content. Difficult in this kind of cold, but Lewis was unlikely to pry regardless. 

“Hey, Lew,” he said. 

“You alright?” Lewis asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dick returned. “How’s everything back at battalion?”

Lewis almost smirked. Dick didn’t want to seem like he was asking about Melanie, but Lewis knew he was asking about Melanie. 

“About the same, as far as the war’s going,” Lewis told him. “At some point, we gotta take Foy, but who knows when we’ll get it together?” When Dick only nodded, Lew continued. “Melanie’s awake now. Properly awake. She was sitting up and eating when I left there.”

That piqued Dick’s interest. He faced his friend and tried not to sound too eager. “She was?”

Lew nodded. “She asked about you.”

Dick might have laughed if he weren’t feeling so torn. Of course Melanie didn’t care a thing for herself. But he hardly felt he deserved her concern.

“Did she?” he asked. 

Lew nodded again. “I think you should go see her.”

Dick wanted to see her. Desperately. He just couldn’t bear the thought of facing her when he felt like such a let-down. Then again, she had forgiven him for worse. 

“I probably shouldn’t leave the men,” Dick said, and it was partly true. He also harbored guilt for abandoning them for the sake of Melanie, something he recalled swearing back in Toccoa would never happen. But Melanie meant more to him now than she did back then. 

He realized just how much she meant when a future he had barely hoped to dream of seemed lost. When he thought she was dead, all those visions he had of a pretty white house with his beautiful wife and their children had been obliterated. He knew he loved Melanie back in Paris. Now he realized just how deep that love went. And all his inaction once again haunted him. 

“Go see her, Dick,” Lewis said. “The men will survive without you for a couple hours. Even if they are relying on Dike.”

Dick grimaced at that. He agreed with the sentiment, but he didn’t like to think about Easy in the hands of yet another incompetent CO. While Dike was a step up from Sobel, the improvement was meager.

“There’s a jeep back in the woods,” Lewis said. “It’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Nix,” Dick replied, clapping his friend on the shoulder. 

With that, Dick climbed out of his foxhole and made his way to the jeep. It was manned by Sink’s personal driver, which told Dick that Lewis was not the only one eager for Melanie to see the man she asked for. With a sigh, Dick took the passenger’s seat and prepared himself. 

When they arrived at HQ, Dick took a deep breath. The last time he’d been this nervous was when he asked Melanie to walk with him after what took place in Eindhoven. He wondered if she was upset with him. How much had Dr. Clarke told her about what happened, if anything? Her father’s pocket watch suddenly felt like it was lead in his breast pocket. 

HQ was relatively quiet. Dick nodded to the officers he recognized, but didn’t stop to say hello. Now that he was here, he only had Melanie on his mind. He needed to see her. His feet felt heavy as he climbed the stairs to her room. As he approached her door, through the wood, he heard her voice. It was sweeter than any music he’d ever heard in his life. It meant she was really there, alive and well, and his hopes for the future were not dashed. He knocked. 

“Come in!” she called. 

He opened the door to reveal her sitting up in bed, a tray of food on her lap, and - to Dick’s disgust - Dr. Clarke sitting beside her on the bed. Thankfully, her smile was enough to melt any bitterness. And she beamed at him. 

“Dick, hello!” she said. “I’m so glad to see you! Have you met Terry?”

She nodded at the doctor. Dick smiled at her. 

“Yeah, we’ve met,” he said. “How are you, Mel?”

He registered now the bandage on her head, and the other, smaller ones on her arms. She reached out a hand toward him, and his heart ached at the scabs he saw forming on her knuckles. He took her hand and let her pull him closer so that he stood beside the bed. 

“I’m alright,” she said. “You really are a darling to come and see me.”

It warmed him to hear her say it. She was happy to see him. Not disappointed at all. Hopefully, her forgiveness would help him forgive himself. 

“Melanie,” Terry interjected. “The check up.”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” she returned. “Is it alright if Dick stays?”

“Sure,” Terry allowed, looking at Dick. “Have a seat.”

There was a chair behind him, and Dick took it without releasing Melanie’s hand. Terry scooted closer to her, cradled her face in his hands, and looked her in the eyes. 

“Eyes are still lovely,” he said, and before she could offer any sort of rebuff, he continued. “And seem fairly focused. No glassiness, pupils are the same size, all good signs.”

He started to move his hand away, and Dick watched uncomfortably as the doctor slid his hand down her neck, briefly stroking her skin with his thumb before letting go. He glanced over at Dick for a fleeting second, meeting his eye. Dick swallowed every possessive impulse that was churning inside him. 

“Really, I’ve just got a terrible headache,” she said. 

“That’s to be expected,” he said. “Do you remember the accident or the events before?”

“Not really,” she said. “The last thing I remember clearly is…” She trailed off. This was her first significant stint of time awake since the collapse of the hospital. The last thing she could recall was her rejection of Terry on the steps. “Well, when you and I spotted the planes coming. Everything after is a blur.”

“Alright, so there is some amnesia, but it seems like it’s pretty minor,” he told her. “You really are lucky. Best to stay off your feet, relax, and come back to work in a couple weeks.”

“Weeks?!” she protested, and Dick gave her hand a supportive squeeze, which she returned. 

“That’s being generous,” Terry said firmly. “I’d like to have you resting for a month just to be safe, but I know how much you’re needed.”

He placed a hand on her leg, just above her knee, casting another superior look at Dick. To Dick’s immense pleasure she drew her knees in toward her chest, forcing Terry’s hand off. Terry frowned and cleared his throat. 

“Sure you can’t eat anymore, Melanie?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Here, I’ll take the tray for you,” he offered. 

Dick watched her hand over the tray, the food on it barely touched. He looked over Melanie again, and once more something new struck him. She was thinner than he remembered. Her cheekbones were more prominent in her usually round face. Her collar bones stuck out too from beneath the neckline of her shirt. 

Terry excused himself and left. Melanie turned her full attention on Dick, meeting his eyes. It felt like coming home. It had been far too long since they had seen each other and they were both eager to catch up. 

 “How are you, Dick?” she asked kindly. “And the boys?”

“We’re hanging in there,” he said. “The line is still spread too thin and we don’t have enough…” he trailed off. “Never mind. I don’t wanna burden you with all this right now.”

He wanted to apologize as well, but he knew she’d never understand what for. Nor would she blame him if he tried to explain himself. He held her hand a little tighter. Her brow furrowed with concern. 

“Are you alright?” she wondered. 

For some reason he was disappointed to not hear an endearment at the end of that question. He liked “darling” from the way she said it a moment ago. And now that she was in front of him, talking and holding his hand, those pictures of a post-war life returned to him. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just glad you’re safe.”

“Me too,” she half-joked. “When those bombs started coming down I was so afraid I might not -”

Her pale cheeks flushed and she looked away. He swore to himself he’d never take that sight for granted again. 

“You might not what?” he pressed gently. 

“I might not ever see you again,” she blurted out. 

For a fleeting moment, he considered telling her everything - that he loved her, that he saw a life with her, and that he wanted to protect her until the last breath left his body. But he didn’t. He couldn’t overwhelm her just now, and besides, the war was not over. The argument he always had came up again - he could get killed, and where would that leave Melanie?

“I was afraid of the same thing,” he admitted. That much, he would allow himself to say. And the way she smiled at him told him she got his message. Loud and clear. 

“You’ve got no business worrying about me,” she said. “You’re running a battalion.”

None of them are what you are to me. More words he couldn’t speak. 

“Well, they mostly look after themselves,” he replied, forcing his tone to be light. “Y’know, with NCOs like ours.”

She smiled. “Very true.”

A beat passed and he decided to ask one more question on his mind. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Well, I’m afraid this bump on my head is making me pretty nauseated,” she said. 

“This kind of change didn’t happen in a few days, Mel,” he insisted. 

“Is it bad?” she asked. “I haven’t properly looked at myself in a while.”

“You’re just awfully thin, that’s all,” he said. “Didn’t they feed you at the hospital?”

“Oh, that,” she said dismissively. “Well, I gave away a lot of my meals. I didn’t need it as bad as the wounded did. And we were so limited.” 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Mel, you gotta eat.”

“I will when I’m feeling better, I promise,” she assured him. “But please don’t fuss over me. I’ll be just fine.”

“Alright, I won’t fuss,” he returned. “Just look after yourself. For me, if not for you.”

“How the tables have turned,” she remarked with a smile. “It wasn’t too long ago I was telling you the same thing.”

He smiled back at her, remembering fondly how she tended to him. How could it be that Carentan felt like it was both years ago and only yesterday? 

“I’m just asking you to return the favor,” he said. 

“I will,” she said. 

He could see that her eyelids were getting heavy, but she fought to keep them open. He wanted her to rest if that was what the doctor ordered.

“Want me to let you sleep?” he asked. 

She met his gaze again. “Are you going to leave if I do?”

He nodded sadly. “I’ve gotta get back to the line.”

Her mouth turned down in almost a pout. She moved her free hand then to cover his, sandwiching it between her palms. 

“Just one more moment, please,” she said, and he was surprised to see tears welling up in her eyes. “Being away from you has been more difficult than I imagined and I can’t bear the thought of it happening again.”

He wondered what was drawing all this brutal honesty from her - the concussion or almost losing her life. Whichever it was, he was moved with sympathy. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay right here.”

She blinked when she smiled, and a single tear fell down her cheek. She brushed it away as she settled back into her pillows. And Dick remained there with her until she could fight it no longer and she fell asleep. Her eyes closed, her breathing evened out, and she was peaceful. Dick almost wished he could join her. He was exhausted as well. With everything happening on the front and his worry about Melanie, he felt he’d aged about ten years. 

He stood up, slipping his hands carefully from hers, before pulling the blanket over her shoulders. She snuggled down further and let out a deep sigh. He allowed himself to stroke her hair, moving it off her forehead, before leaving. After one last look at her serene face, he closed the door. He was back out in the hall and dreading his next steps. Back outside into the cold, back to the line, back to his worry. 

Before he could make it out, he was stopped. Dr. Clarke stood in the hall, blocking Dick’s path. The doctor looked even less friendly than he did in the room with Melanie, so Dick braced himself for whatever this could mean. Clarke approached.

“Look, I don’t really know you, but I have to say something,” he began. “I think what you’re doing to Melanie is horrible.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “What am I doing to her?”

“Leading her on,” Clarke explained. “You’ve known her two years now and you haven’t committed to her. Which tells me you’re not interested, but you don’t want her to lose interest.”

Dick was shocked by what he was hearing. It was the first time since knowing Melanie that someone was telling him he didn’t have feelings for her. 

“Doctor, I don’t know what Melanie’s told you, but -”

“It’s not hard to put it together,” Clarke interrupted. “You’ve somehow convinced her you’re worth waiting for. At the expense of people who really care about her. So what is it? Have you...made love to her or something?”

Dick blinked. Several emotions happened to him at once. Further shock at the forwardness of the question. Anger at the suggestion that Dick was that sort of man. And annoyance. He was so tired. Why did he have to deal with this sort of juvenile jealousy when there was a war on? He took a breath to collect himself. Squaring his shoulders, he looked Clarke in the eye, fed up before he even started speaking.

“First of all, anything that’s happened between Melanie and myself is our business,” he began. “Second of all, Melanie doesn’t belong to me. She’s free to pursue any sort of relationship she likes. If she’s chosen not to be with you, that’s not my doing. If I had to guess, it’s because she sees through your bravado. And so do I.”

Clarke huffed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You march up here and accost me about a situation you’re only guessing at, putting on airs about protecting her,” Dick shot back. “When you were the one who put your hands all over her under the pretense of doing your job. This isn’t about Melanie, it’s about you.” 

“I love that girl,” Clarke insisted, and he took a step toward Dick, who did not step away.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Dick said. “But if that’s how you feel, take it up with her.”

“You really are a coward,” Clarke scoffed. “You won’t even fight for her.”

“Is that what you’re after?” Dick challenged. “Do you honestly think the two of us duking it out is going to make her love you?”

“She needs to know she has options!” Clarke insisted. 

“She knows,” Dick said levelly. “You’re just upset because she’s made a choice you’re unhappy with.” He was getting impatient now. This sort of thing was for little boys on a playground, not two officers in the US Army. Then, he said something that even surprised him. “I’m not going to fight you for something I already have.”

Clarke flared up at that, but he said nothing. Somehow, Dick defending himself made him realize the truth - that he did have Melanie’s affection, and he felt more deserving of it than before. He was annoyed by Clarke not out of jealousy, but because the man saw himself as more of a threat than he really was. And Dick truly, honestly did not have time or energy to entertain something of so little consequence. 

“And by the way, Lieutenant,” Dick said. “I’m a senior officer. The next time you address me, you will say ‘sir.’”

“Well, fuck you,” Clarke seethed. “Sir.”

Dick chuckled, clapped him on the shoulder, and pushed past him without another word. 

***

Melanie healed up nicely in the two weeks she was out of work. She slept and ate as if she were making up for all the sleep and meals she’d missed out on the last month or so. Unfortunately, she didn’t get another visit from Dick. The death toll in the Bois Jacques was rising, and he couldn’t leave the men now. 

On January 9th, Melanie was finally free from her bedrest sentence. She had been issued new uniforms since the belongings she’d had with her at the hospital in Bastogne were lost to the destruction. Luckily, she’d thought to leave her valuables - including the dress from Dick - in Colonel Sink’s care, and they were safely in his billet. The fresh fatigues were surprisingly comforting to her. She preferred the dresses and heels, but they were no good in the cold and snow. She was getting ready to put up her hair when there was a knock on her door. 

“Who is it?” she called. 

“It’s Terry!”

“Come in!”

The door squeaked open and Terry stepped through, closing it behind him. She abandoned her hair and turned on her stool to face him. 

“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said. “I wanted to thank you again for taking such wonderful care of me. With all the wounded, I know it couldn’t have been easy.” 

“Nonsense, I was glad to do it,” he replied. 

He paused a long moment and looked at his feet, which caused him to sway a little, but he didn’t fall. Her brow furrowed as she stood up and went to steady him. 

“Are you alright, Terry?” she asked. 

He looked at her again and she realized right away what the problem was from the smell of bourbon on his breath. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand in her face. “Look, Melanie, before Bastogne got bombed to hell, you and I were talking about something.”

She held back a sigh. She had hoped that he’d gotten the message back then that there was someone she loved. But clearly he wasn’t letting it go. 

“Terry, I’m sorry,” she said. “But there’s no use in discussing that any further.”

“No, listen to me,” he said sternly. “I’m telling you, love is wasted on a man like Dick Winters. Especially your love. You deserve someone who is ready for you - right here and now. Someone who wouldn’t let something like a war stand in the way of loving you.”

She frowned, stung and affronted. “That’s a cruel thing to say. You don’t even know him.”

“I know you,” he returned. “And I know that he’s breaking your heart. That’s enough not to like him.”

“You’re sadly misinformed if you think -”

“I love you!” he cried. “And I could give you the life of your dreams after the war if you’d only give me a chance!”

She blinked. Such a confession should have been flattering, but the feeling she got from him made her hair stand on end. He was not saying it out of genuine feeling, he was saying it to win an argument. And that didn’t feel very much like love. 

“Terry, what you want from me are words I can’t say,” she replied gently. “Would you really have me accept you and live a lie?”

“You’d learn to love me, I know it,” he said. “I just want you for myself.”

There was a dangerous gleam in his eye at those words that made her take a step back from him. He stepped closer. Her stomach turned. 

“I think you should go now,” she said timidly. “You’re upset, you’ve been drinking -”

“Give the diplomacy a rest, Melanie,” he spat. “I’m going to say what I feel and you are going to listen!”

She sighed. “It won’t do any good, Terry. I can’t change how I feel.”

“God-DAMMIT!” he bellowed, shoving the dresser beside him so hard several of the knick knacks toppled off of it. Melanie gasped and jumped back, breathing heavily. “Do you see what you do to me, Melanie?”

“I - I haven’t done -” she stammered, but he cut her off. 

“Just the thought of you with him!” he growled. “With ANY MAN!”

To emphasize that point, he snatched a framed photograph off the same dresser and hurled it across the room, right over her head. The glass shattered against the opposite wall, drowning out Melanie’s yelp of surprise. She covered her face with her hands to protect herself from the shards. Before she could say anything in return, he picked up a small globe and threw that at her as well. She ducked to avoid it, and the base snapped against the wall. The globe rolled under the bed. 

“Terry, stop it!” she cried. 

He moved even closer to her. She tried to recoil, but he snatched her by the wrist and yanked her towards him. With his free hand, he took hold of her face, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks as he pulled her within inches of him. She could feel his breath on her skin. A whimper escaped her at the pain of his grip, but she couldn’t look away. She was frozen, trembling at the thought of what he might do next. 

“I could crush your skull, you know,” he warned. “Right against that vanity. Would that get Dick Winters out of your mind?”

Her eyes went wide, but because of his hand, she couldn’t answer him. His palm covered her mouth. She couldn’t even call for help. She could only shake her head and plead with her eyes. He moved his hand and she drew breath to scream, but he was too quick. He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. She winced and prayed for someone to hear the commotion and put a stop to this. 

For a brief moment, she remembered when Corporal Biding tackled her that night in Toccoa. She recalled how frightened she’d been before she realized he was no real threat, he had just made a drunken mistake. Nothing like now. While Terry had been drinking, he was far from drunk. And she was so much more afraid. This was an intentionally vicious attack. She saw in his eyes something sinister and heartless. And of course now, Dick and Easy Company were not going to come to her rescue. 

Her vision got blurry as he cut off her air. She thought of Dick and how much she’d relied on him after the Corporal Biding incident. She wished he was here to help her again. But he wasn’t. And she was not that scared little girl she was in Toccoa. She had survived D-Day, Market Garden, the bombing of Bastogne, and she’d be damned if she let this pathetic excuse for a man get the best of her. 

With all her might, Melanie shoved her knee between Terry’s legs. He groaned at the impact and released her as he doubled over. She took a moment to gulp in fresh air before she reared back and slapped him hard across the face. The sound cracked like a whip. His head lurched back, throwing him off balance enough to stumble. Melanie, adrenaline coursing through her, wasn’t satisfied, so she shoved him, which made him fall to the floor, landing on his rear with a grunt.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on me again!” she yelled.

While he licked his wounds - and his pride - Melanie gathered the last of her things in silence. Rage compelled her every move as she shoved her belongings into her bag. He was still on the floor when she marched for the door. She opened it to reveal Colonel Sink behind it, fist raised, about to knock. He shot her a confused glance as he took in the scene - Melanie, stormy and furious, and Terry in the fetal position on the floor of her room. He noticed as well, the broken trinkets from the unfortunate family who lived here previously. Sink’s eyes flicked between Melanie and Terry. 

“Everything alright up here?” Sink asked. 

“It’s fine,” Melanie said shortly. “Get me out of here, please.”

“Certainly,” he assured her. 

He put a protective arm around her shoulder and led her away. When they made it down the stairs, she stopped him, turned into his chest, and burst into tears. He held her close, patted her on the head, and let her cry. He didn’t ask her what happened, and she was grateful. She never wanted to relive that scene if she could help it. She looked up at Sink with desperate eyes.

“Please don’t make me go back to the hospital, Colonel,” she pleaded. “I’ll do anything else, but I can’t work with him again.”

“Actually, I was about to offer you a change of scenery,” he said. 

“Like what?” she sniffled.

He sighed and looked away, which told her she wouldn’t like it. “The Bois Jacques.”

[trikadekaphile]

Excerpts from one of my favorite Han/Leia fanfics

Dant Solo once wrote a fanfic on the now-defunct TATS website, which was posted in three parts. It was titled "Oblivion" and focused on the missing moments from the period during the NJO (New Jedi Order) where Han and Leia were separated, then when they got back together. Dant Solo did what Kathy Tyers had neither the talent nor the decency to do: gave Han and Leia a proper reunion.

Now, it is no secret that I do not care for the pre-Disney EU, now called Legends. (For the record, I don’t care much for the Disney EU, either.) I flat-out hate much of the NJO, particularly the way it crapped all over Han/Leia's relationship -- not only separating them, but gypping them out of a reunion, and instead giving all the love/personal scenes to the red-gold pestilence and the penis on life support it married Mara and Luke...in the book that was supposed to contain the Han/Leia reunion. Tyers poured salt on the wound by offering a fake mea culpa where she said -- heck, gloated -- that she could have written some Han/Leia scenes, but she wanted to focus on the red-gold pestilence and the penis on life support it married Mara and Luke.

Han/Leia fans, justifiably outraged, began a campaign to get their couple better treatment. It took three years before Del Rey finally delivered something more than a half-assed stopgap measure: "Tatooine Ghost," set after Han and Leia were married, and thankfully retconned some of the most egregious and nauseating parts of the travesty called "The Courtship of Princess Leia."

Anyway, I feel a rant about the red-gold pestilence coming on, and I choose to quash it and refocus on the aforementioned excerpts from Dant Solo's fanfic. The whole fanfic is good, but I have some favorite parts, which are the ones I will post.

Without further ado, here are my favorite excerpts from "Oblivion":

*******

[Han] came to a lift and entered it with half a dozen other beings, traveling downward to an entertainment level.  He found a familiar cantina, one that had been renamed but remained, nevertheless, the same sort of dive it had always been.  He swaggered through the doorway, hand resting casually above his blaster in an old, customary habit.  His senses were immediately assaulted by a musty, hazy smoke that filled the crowded, dimly lit room.  Loud conversation filled his ears, and he suddenly hoped that no one would speak to him.  He wanted a drink and he wanted to be alone.

He ambled to the bar and sat on a lone stool at one end, waving a hand to the bartender, a shiny headed Bith who greeted him enthusiastically.  Grumbling, Han ordered Alderaanian ale, noting the way the bartender slunk away after he provided it.

Gulping the brew greedily, Han's thoughts returned to Leia.  He couldn't remember the last time they had exchanged pleasant words.  He supposed it must have been some time shortly after Sernpidal.  Again, as had been the case for so long, despair flooded him at the thought of his friend and co-pilot.  His eyes closed without him even realizing it, his mind remembering the final moments of the Wookiee's life, recalling the horrible, shattering events against his own will.

Chewie!  No!

Dammit!  His fist clenched around the cold, hard mug of ale, but almost as quickly, it unclenched with a weak, sorrowful acceptance, eyes opening reflexively.

Ahh, Chewie...What am I supposed to do here?  I wish you could tell me.

He knew what the big lug would say...he would tell him to get off his ass and pull himself together.  That there was no use beating himself up over it and that he had wasted enough of his time already.

And he would probably tell Han to go back to his family.  If there was one thing Chewie had always felt very strongly about, it was family.

Maybe if he hadn't been running around with me, he'd be with his family right now.

A futile thought, but Han couldn't help but think it anyway.  He sighed, feeling a shudder pass through him with the release of that breath.  This was why he'd always been a loner.  Granted, Chewie had been in his life for an incredibly long time before he'd lost him, but he remembered vividly the kind of pain that loss of any kind imbued, and he had vowed, as a much younger man, not to risk such loss ever again.

But first there was Chewie and then there was Leia, both taking on a tough edged scoundrel who really wasn't worth it.

Surely, Leia had recently drawn that conclusion in earnest.  He thought of her trip to Hapes, of her time with the dashing, regal Prince Isolder.  If she'd married him instead of Han, she wouldn't be alone right now; she wouldn't have to wonder what would become of her husband, her marriage.  With a distant darkness, Han wondered what had passed between the Prince and his wife.  He was still a handsome bastard; certainly Leia would have noticed that.  Han had left her alone all these months, had in truth mostly left her alone for months before, all the while existing in the same home as her, drinking himself into oblivion.

The idea of Leia with Isolder inflamed Han with a heart clenching, smoldering jealousy that consumed him for a long, violent moment, tempting him to hurl his mug across the room, shattering it against the wall as concretely as the thought shattered his soul.

He pushed the agonizing thought from his mind, forcing it into a quiet corner of his brain, along with all thoughts too painful to bear.

He tried not to think of anything at all, and was barely aware when someone sat on a nearby stool and slid it beside him.  He glanced over to find a tall, curvaceous woman with close-cropped, sun colored hair smiling at him in a flirtatious manner.  He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, smiling inwardly at the realization of who he had turned into since he'd met a young, idealistic would-be Jedi.  Then he returned his gaze to his drink, dismissing the young woman.

"Hi there," she said, turning to face him.

With a tired sigh, he looked at her again, smiling politely.  She was very attractive, he had to admit that.

"Buy a lady a drink?"  She smiled impishly.

Why not?  It couldn't hurt.  "Yeah, sure."  He gestured to the bartender, who hastened over.  "A drink for the lady," Han said with a gesture.

The woman smiled at the Bith.  "Tagorian Tellder wine."  As the bartender reached for the appropriate bottle and began to pour, she turned back to Han and extended a delicate hand.  "I'm Shayna."

Han shook her hand briefly.  "Han.  Nice to meetcha."  He took another long swig of his ale, watching the woman carefully as she received her drink from the bartender and sipped it slowly.

She raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "You look lonely, Han."

Han raised a brow in return.  "Nah, I'm just fine.  I like bein' alone."

"Really?  You don't ever like company?"

Against his will, his thoughts turned to his family.  It had been a long time, up until Chewie's death, since he had genuinely enjoyed being alone.  Now it seemed the only option left to him.  "Maybe sometimes.  Not often."

She smiled coyly.  "I don't like to be alone.  I'm always looking for company." She leaned toward him and the loose front of her blouse slid forward enticingly, capturing Han's gaze for the briefest of moments.

He looked away quickly, guzzling down the last of his ale and signaling the bartender for another.

Without warning, Shayna placed a warm hand on Han's thigh, just as his second ale was placed before him.

"You want to go someplace more private and talk some more?"

Han looked at her for a long moment, holding his mug in suspended animation halfway to his lips.  It could be so easy....to go with this beautiful woman and forget everything for a little while.  His body was certainly willing.  No one ever had to know.  There was no way for anyone to find out.  And in truth, he wasn't sure what was left of his marriage to begin with, so how wrong would it be, really?

Sighing mentally, Han realized that he would always know.  And if he ever had a chance of fixing things with Leia, he wasn't sure he could live with that knowledge.  Without warning, his mind assaulted him with an image of the hurt that would become present in Leia's eyes if he were to betray her.  Trust and fidelity had always been in large commodity between them, something each had always counted on, perhaps even taken for granted.  He could easily imagine how deeply this would cut her; how devastated and disappointed in him she would be.  Hadn't he disappointed her enough already?

It wasn't worth it.  A night with some stranger was not even remotely worth his wife and family, no matter what state those relationships were in.

He reached down and removed the woman's hand from his thigh, squeezed it gently for a second, then replaced it on the bar, noting her confused look of disappointment.  "Sorry, not interested."  He turned back to the bartop.

"You married?"  She asked knowingly.

"Yeah.  You could say that."  He closed up, pulling back inside himself.

"Hmm....you don't look like the faithful type," she said mischievously.

Han glanced at her, eyebrows shooting heavenward.  He supposed she was right, he didn't look the type.  Funny how things changed.  "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised."  He stood up, took one last gulp of his ale, tossed a few credits on the bar, gave the woman a mock salute, and then swaggered away. *******

Han dug into the travel pack he had stashed in a compartment over the sensor console on board the Falcon.  He was still undecided as to whether or not he was going to give Leia what was inside the pack.

He missed her already.  Their time together had been far too short.  After all the nights he had imagined holding her, he was still being denied.

With resigned uncertainty, he pulled out the gift he had purchased for Leia at the Abregadoe-rae spaceport.  It had almost seemed a sign at the time.  He had expected to see her when he arrived at Duro, and when he had seen this, he'd been uncharacteristically compelled to buy it.

The old fashioned book-- the actual flimsiplast sheets bound in a cover of burgundy with gold writing-- contained Alderaanian poetry.  He had stood in the small shop, holding it in his hands almost reverently, trying to decide if he should purchase it.

In a hasty decision, he had done just that.  Now he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to give it to her.  He felt somewhat foolish about the gesture.

He stood and placed the book on the holochess table and removed a bottle of Corellian brandy from a nearby compartment.  He went to the galley and grabbed a glass, filling it halfway with the amber liquid.  This drink was different from the ones he had taken this past year.   He didn't feel he needed it.  He simply wanted it. The rumble of the hatch opening surprised him, and he went to investigate, hand reaching for his blaster.  It was probably Jacen, but in such desperate circumstances, he couldn't take a chance.  As he hurried, he heard the sound of the hatch closing again, and when he rounded a corner, he saw what had to be Leia, removing the helmet of her chem suit.  He holstered his blaster and stared in disbelief as the helmet revealed her lovely face, surprising him yet again.  Around her now shaven head, a white scarf was tied.

She smiled at his dumbfounded expression, enjoying it immensely.  She knew she would have to be processed again in the morning, but she didn't care.  It was worth it.  She had dreamed of being with Han again for too long.  "Surprised to see me, Captain?"  She dropped the helmet to the floor and began removing the chem suit.

He just stared as she pushed the suit down her legs and stepped out of it.  With her hair gone, she looked thinner, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent.  It brought home to him what he had put her through, and guilt gripped his heart.

And here she is, doing everything in her power to be with me, yet again.  What did I ever do to deserve this woman?  He couldn't imagine.

Feeling awkwardly ashamed, he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked to the floor.

Leia picked up the suit and helmet, stashing them in a nearby compartment.  She was absurdly nervous.  Her stomach was fluttering in anticipation of spending time alone with Han.  In an effort to calm herself, she reached out through the Force to touch Han's essence and found him as nervous as she.  It was a comforting realization, and her tension decreased almost instantly.  She turned back to Han and they lapsed into silence.

He returned his gaze to hers.  "You want a drink?"

She nodded.  "Sure."  As she moved to follow him to the galley, she passed the holochess table and spotted, of all things, a book.  "What's this?"

Han stopped and saw her fingering the book on the table. I guess my decision's made for me, he thought dismally.  "Um...well, I got that for you."  He felt his face warming.

She looked up at him in sharp surprise.  He had gotten her a book?  That was certainly unexpected.  She smiled tentatively, sensing the sudden increase in awkwardness that permeated the air around Han.

Han crossed his arms over his chest, looking around the hold, everywhere but at Leia.  "I just...saw it, and...well, it made me think of you.  So I got it for you."  Did he sound as stupid to her as he did to himself?

She picked up the book gingerly, almost lovingly.  She fingered the cover, tracing the title with a fingertip:  The Heart Of Alderaan.  The old, familiar pain surfaced, competing with the pounding of her heart that was caused by Han's presence.

Han watched her, his heart churning.  She opened the cover carefully and turned to the first page.

Han cleared his throat.  "There was one poem..."  He grimaced at the sound of his own voice in the quiet of the ship, shrugging sheepishly.  "I thought it was pretty good. I marked it.  It really reminded me of you."

Leia glanced up at him for a moment before flipping carefully through the pages until she came to the one Han had marked.  Lead Me Back To You.  Warmth washed over her, and in a voice choked with emotion, Leia read the poem aloud.

"Blind and running, not knowing to where

Burning sorrow, from what isn't there

Eyes could not see, you were there for me."

Leia's voice faltered a moment, the words he had so carefully chosen cutting her deeply.  "Despair held reign, keeping me empty.

"Through the dark haze, your light strong and true

Ever shining, leads me back to you

Starlight so bright, a beacon in black

Filling my soul, completing my lack

"Worlds fall afar, hearts cry out breaking

Desperate need, my arms are aching

Moments are lost, lifetime spent running

Lovers are hurt, even the cunning

"Love and beauty, you brought to my life

Soothing comfort, an end to the strife

Further I fall, deep in your embrace

Hearts breathe in time, tears fall from your face."

Tears gathered, blurring the words.  She looked at him, speechless.  This was the most wonderful gift she had ever received.  Just knowing he had thought of her, as she had thought of him, almost continually, filled her with joy.

He stared back, his own expression grave.  "It's probably not the best poem you've ever seen," he began.  "But--"

"It's beautiful," she whispered.  "Thank you."

They stared at each other for a long, emotionally charged moment.  Han wanted to take her in his arms, but felt oddly unable to move.

She offered him a teary smile of encouragement and it was all he needed.

"C'mere," he whispered roughly, reaching out a hand toward her.

With a small sigh, Leia took his hand in hers and stepped close,  her eyes never leaving his,  feeling the unique way his life force called to her.  She wrapped herself up in it, drank it in with her senses.

With an almost inaudible whimper, Han's arms were suddenly around her, clutching her to him convulsively.  His breath near her ear was harsh as he whispered, "I missed you, Leia.  Gods, I missed you."

A waterfall of tearful emotion washed through her.  She held him more tightly and returned the whisper.  "I missed you, too.  Every moment.  Even when you  were at home."

Her words stabbed at his heart, but he understood her need to say them.  Eyes closed, threatening to overflow, Han breathed reverently, "I'm sorry.  I'm so, so sorry."

She pulled back just enough to look at his closed eyes.  She thought she could almost see a trembling to his chin, but was not quite sure in the dim lighting.  "I understand," she said, meaning it.

And he realized she did.  Because she knew him so well, better than he even knew himself.  He opened his eyes and brought up a hand to remove the white scarf from her head.

Her hand flew up protectively. "Han--"

"Shhh..."  He removed her hand, then followed suit with the scarf, dropping it to the deck.  He ran a  hand along her scalp, humbled by the gesture she had made for a few simple minutes with him.  He could barely  release the heartfelt words that bubbled to his lips.  "I don't deserve you.  I never have,"  he breathed.  

She shook her head slowly, eyes filling with bright tears.  "Just kiss me, you nerfherder,"  she said around the tightness in her throat.

His mouth bent to hers, kissing her with all the loneliness, loss and desperation he had felt for so long.  His arms held her tightly once more and he lifted her to dangle above the floor.

It was like coming home, for both of them.  Almost forgotten passion mingled with the joy of rediscovering each other, to carry them away to a haven where nothing else mattered, at least for a little while.

He swung her more fully into his arms, cradling her lovingly.  As he carried her to their cabin---their cabin,  he thought with a soft squeeze to his heart--- he was almost moved to tears by the gentle touch of her hands surrounding his face.

They reached the cabin and he placed her in the center of the bed, staring into her eyes for long, grateful moments.  Then they kissed again, softly, deeply, burrowing into each others' souls, erasing the pain and sorrow and replacing it with understanding and trust.

Their clothes were lost hurriedly, and when they were bared to each other, physically and emotionally, all else was forgotten.  Their mouths sought comfort, their caresses sought solace.  Forgiveness was understood, love granted unconditionally.

Too moved for words, they comprehended each other perfectly without them, sharing thoughts on a level of intimacy that left them both weak.

Crying out in a release that was as much emotional as it was physical, they clung to each other, trembling together, soaring on waves of passionate eternity.

Breath calming, Han held Leia in a gripping embrace, wanting to never let go.  He was overwhelmed by his feelings for her, in a humbling way he knew not how to express.  It permeated his soul, turning him inside out.  The past year had taken a toll on him, and now those feelings surfaced in the most profound way, filling him up, overflowing from within  him.  He was unable to contain them, and felt the tears choking his throat, unstoppable now.

Leia sensed the deep emotion in her husband and reached out through the Force to touch his soul.  When the first sob wrenched from his throat,  Leia held him close, stroking the damp hair at the back of his neck with excruciatingly comforting fingers, feeling his tears trickle a damp trail down her neck.  She reached out to him spiritually, felt him grip her mental touch almost reflexively, as if he did so without even realizing it.  She stroked his mind, doing her best to comfort him in every way she knew how.

He cried as he hadn't been able to since Chewie's death.  Not just tears now, but huge bursts of grief that emanated from his chest, obscuring everything but the soothing embrace of his wife.  He allowed her, finally, to hold him, to share his sorrow, to see just how much the past year had affected him.  He sobbed until he was too weak to continue, finally, blissfully, falling into a deep,  exhausted slumber, the first of such in a long, long time.

Leia held him still, her aching heart at last peaceful in the knowledge that Han and she had made sense of themselves.  The simple act of sharing his pain was proof that he was healing. It might take a bit more time to make him whole again, but they could do it...

Together, they could do anything.

*******

Leia watched her husband lying on his side, facing her.  She was filled with relief and serenity.  She had dozed on and off for the past two hours, while Han remained  entrenched in sleep.  She snuggled close to him, her thirst for his nearness not easily quenched.  After all was said and done, they had found each other again,  both equally unable to sever the bond they had shared for so long.   Pride and arrogance set aside, there really was no reason for them not to be together.

Leia waded in the warmth of Han's sleeping thoughts, like a gentle current.  His mind hadn't been so calm, so at ease, since before Chewie's death.

She sighed at the thought of the big Wookiee, so prominent a part of their lives.   After all the loss she had suffered in her life, she was surprised at how hard Chewie's death had hit her.  Certainly, not as hard as it had hit Han, but hard nonetheless.

She pushed aside that pain as she felt Han's consciousness stirring.  She pulled herself closer to him,  the skin of his shoulders so blissfully warm under her palms.

Stretching his legs before wrapping them around hers, he let out a low breath as his eyes flickered open and his arms surrounded her.  She brought her face to his stubbly cheek, making a soft sound of contentment from deep within her.

They held each other for a long silence, until Han pulled back, a somber expression etched into his features.  He leaned into her and kissed her lingeringly, then looked into her eyes once more, his expression growing slowly sheepish.  "Sorry to fall asleep on you,"  he admitted, looking up at her with raised eyebrows, face tilted downward.

"That's okay," she whispered.  "It just feels so good to hold you again."

"Yeah."  Han swallowed against the sudden lump that rose to his throat.  "I know what you mean."   He leaned against the pillow, raising a hand to stroke the smooth skin of her shoulder, just above where the blanket fell over her.  Her arms felt so good around him, too good to be true. But it was true, thankfully.  Feeling mildly ashamed at his earlier display of emotion,  he watched his fingers caress her skin and forced himself to speak.  "And, uh...sorry  'bout losing it before, too.  I don't want you to think it was anything bad about you--"

"I know what it was," she said softly, understandingly.

He looked back at her, nodding, resisting the urge to ask her to explain it to him.  He felt better now, more in control, more like his old self.  As if he had purged himself of some parasitic demon that had been eating away at his soul.  He relaxed and pulled her down to rest against his chest, tenderly amused by her lack of hair.  He rubbed her head gently, grinning.  "I bet you can't wait till I shave mine, huh?"

She raised her head to look him in the eye.  Happiness bubbled within her at the familiar sight of his charming, lopsided smile.  "Well, we might as well match," she said with a smirk.

The amusement in his eyes slowly faded to reveal a deeper emotion, as his gaze roamed over well loved features that had only come to endear her more to him with the passage of time.  It didn't matter to him  if her gorgeous hair was gone, she still took his breath away.  "You're still so beautiful,  Princess," he whispered.  He smiled wistfully.  "Too beautiful for an old pirate like me."

She laid her palm across his cheek, an unnerving thought creeping into her mind.  It was something she had thought of over the past few months, but had been afraid to truly acknowledge.  She forced a smile.  "You know you're still gorgeous," she said.  Her eyes fell from his to study the hair on his chest.  "I'm sure plenty of women told you so in your recent travels," she added quietly, unable to do more than imply her concerns.

His fingers lifted her chin, firm but gentle.  "Hey,"  he said fiercely.  "There was no one else."

She gazed into his eyes with hopeful uncertainty.

His lips pressed together before he spoke again.  "I swear it.  No one."

Their eyes held for a long, searching moment, and Leia didn't need to touch him through the Force to know he was sincere.  She kissed him softly on the lips before returning her head to rest on his chest.

They lay quietly for a time, while Han tried to think of a way to tell her all that she meant to him.  He had caused her so much pain,  forced her to put up with far more than she should have had to.  "Leia...,"  he began tentatively.  "I don't want you to think I ever stopped loving you--"

Her head rose quickly, meeting his eyes with her own.  "I never thought that.  I know you too well," she said softly.

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes at her chin.  "Yeah, well..."  After a brief pause, he continued.  "The things I said to you, when I was drinking...I didn't mean them, not any of them."

"I know."

He sighed in a rush of defeated breath.  He closed his eyes and tried to force the words that did not come naturally to him.  "I just couldn't...I couldn't--"

"Shhh."  Leia placed a finger to his lips, stilling the awkward sentiment.  "Don't," she whispered, voice vehement.  "You don't need to explain anything." His lips moved beneath her finger,  his voice heavily laden with pain.  "I hurt you, Leia, everything I did this past year--"

Her lips replaced her fingertip, kissing him softly.  After a brief hesitation, he kissed her back.  When she broke away from his lips, she gazed at him with large, soulful eyes.  "Your fault, my fault...it doesn't matter.  Not now."

Han's brow furrowed.  "My fault.  It does matter."

She shook her head, smiling gently.  "No.  It doesn't."

He stared at her, eyes softly dubious, lips parting as if to say something else.  Then his mouth firmed into a thin line and he leaned up to enfold her in his arms.  He spun her to her back, holding her to him in a powerful embrace.  "I was selfish," he whispered into her neck.

She stroked his hair, thinking of how she would miss its softness.  "You were hurting, you couldn't help it."

He held her more tightly, felt her heart beating a steady rhythm with his.  "That's no excuse."

Gently, she pulled away from him, looking into his eyes with a grim expression.   She didn't want him beating himself up over this.  There was no point to it.  "Han, sometimes circumstances happen.  And we can't help how we react to them.  We cope the best way we know how."

Alderaan, he thought.  It should have broken her, but it hadn't.  Her inner strength was too tenacious.   He always knew she was stronger than he was.  Where he had crumpled, she had only grown stronger.  In the early years, once they had gotten past the nasty taunts and sarcasm, her strength had probably been what he admired most about her.  He nodded to her finally, unable to argue when she would not allow it.  He would carry this guilt for a long time, regardless of her lack of blame.  He almost wished she would tell him off, give him what he knew he so justly deserved.

Leia watched Han's features settle into resignation, then something resembling tender disbelief.

He shook his head very slowly. "How is it that you still love me so?"

She smiled, equally tender.  "How could I possibly stop?"  She asked softly, eyes wide and sincere.

He grimaced slightly, feeling so undeserving of her love and trust.  "I love you, Leia."   The words were barely a whisper.

Even if Leia hadn't been able to bask in the beauty of Han's emotions flowing freely through the energy of the Force, the look in his eyes would be enough.  She kissed him with a fervent passion that they hadn't known since their younger years, and they surrendered to the growing need to drown themselves in the intimacy each had existed without for far too long.  Their bodies moved  together in a timeless rhythm, strengthening their hearts and fortifying their souls.

All around them, oblivion slowly faded.