#everyone cheer this is the first thing i’ve drawn since my hand injury

[enthyrea]

they’re matching!!! :)

i just really wanted to draw paykid in a little knit hat that matches her dad’s helmet 😭

#enthyrea art #BY THE WAY #iceman crocheted it for her #yes it says paybaby that is the point #everyone cheer this is the first thing i’ve drawn since my hand injury #paykid #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fanart #top gun payback #reuben payback fitch #payback fitch #reuben fitch

[catchmewiddershins]

Hey hey Hun! I saw that your requests were open and was wondering if you could do a pt.4 of “the haikyuu boys overhearing their crush talk about them” but with Osamu, Hinata and Sakusa XoX

Haikyuu Characters Overhearing their crush talking about them - pt 4:

YES A PART 4 - before we start I just want to say thank you to everyone for all of the love you've shown this series 💖 As always, feel free to request another part!

Anyway- includes: Osamu, Hinata and Sakusa!

Osamu:

“Which one is that?”

“He’s not as good as his brother.”

“He seems lazier than Atsumu.”

“Why is he always eating?”

Osamu heard it all. Every. Single. Day. He was so tired of it but, with a twin as famed as Atsumu, the best high school setter, and he himself only being a good striker that his twin brings the best out of, it was inevitable that he would always be seen as the lesser sibling.

With one exception. You. Osamu had had a crush on you for ages, because you seemed to be the only person who didn’t see him as the extra part of a set. He’d first encountered you in his food tech class, and the two of you had been assigned to sit next to each other. You'd bonded very quickly.

"It needs more salt..."

"Is it supposed to look like that?"

"Wait- was that plain flour and not self-raising?"

"If we cover it with sprinkles, nobody will know!"

These were the conversations that he got to have with you every week and he loved them. He looked forward to the lessons you shared with unbearable excitement - where he'd be able to talk to you about something you both appreciate, and to have fun outside of volleyball, where he relied on Atsumu for success!

But then one week, he noticed you were quieter than usual... More hesitant. He remembered how he’d had a match the previous day and how he'd spotted you in the stands and his first thought was that of course you'd seen his brother in action and decided that he was the better twin and that there was no need to waste your time with him anymore.

Sadly, he got up to fetch some more ingredients and, as he returned, he caught the tail end of a whispered conversation between you and your friend on the neighbouring table.

"You're being weird, he's gonna think you hate him if you refuse to talk to him!"

"I just... He's been a wonderful friend and then I thought I might have feelings for him but I wasn't sure and then yesterday I got to see him play and it was amazing! I couldn't take my eyes off him! But now I know that I'm in too deep to back out and I don't know what to say!"

You groaned and flopped dramatically only your friend's worktop, ignorant of the boy behind you whose cheeks were heating at an alarming rate.

He coughed as a grin spread across his face.

"How about Ah ask ya te lunch first and we go from there?" He grinned setting the ingredients down onto the table. "And don't go quiet, Ah've always loved talkin' te ya!"

Hinata:

Hinata was late. Again. He’d been doing passing practice in the courtyard over lunch and had got caught up in what he was doing. And he hadn’t noticed the bell had rung for the first lesson of the afternoon. 

So here he was, sprinting through the school corridors at maximum speed, bag flying behind him and a few stray papers clutched in his hands. He slid around a corner and almost skidded into an opening door, the shouts of teachers echoing behind him as he rocketed through the building. 

As it was, his laces were loose, and he tripped as he sped past an empty classroom before crashing to the floor. He lay there for a minute and groaned, then standing up in order to tie his laces back together and gather up his scattered stationery, notebooks and paper. As he shuffled some worksheets together, he couldn’t help but notice your voice in the nearby classroom, and his ears perked up as he listened. 

He’d had a crush on you for so long it was hilarious! Since you’d both come to the school and met in the class you shared, you’d got on like a house on fire, always able to talk and share ideas. He’d fallen hard and fast, and he was whipped for you.

“Who do you like, then?” Came one voice from the classroom, your friend by the sound of it.

His favourite sound, your voice, replied, “Hinata, of course!”

Of course? Him? You liked him too? The fiery-haired boy leapt to his feet with excitement, but continued to listen as he collected his things.

“Hinata? That short, ginger boy from your Literature class?”

“Yes! He’s the best, honestly, he’s so enthusiastic all of the time and cheerful! Spending time with him feels like sunbathing on a warm day! And he’s so kind, and passionate, he really cares about his friends and his sport and always wants to improve! I really admire him!”

Hinata grinned wider than ever and let out a silent cheer, pumping his fist in the air as his eyes sparkled with glee. As he shot off back down the corridors, unwilling to be any later than he definitely was now, he planned to ask you out the next time he saw you, probably with a crushing hug as well!

Sakusa:

The bell at the door tinkled as Sakusa walked into the sports supplies shop, list in hand. He needed... new kneepads and... Komori wanted some tape. He didn’t like buying things online, and had to inspect everything personally, it wouldn’t do for him or his cousin to gain an injury due to low quality supplies. Perusing the aisles of the shop, he soon found the aisle he was looking for, and took his time picking up and examining every one, feeling for the quality and the texture because there’s no point if it’s uncomfortable.

He spotted a set of kneepads that he was drawn to... they reminded him of you. They were plain black and minimalist, but there were two coloured stripes, and they were exactly your favourite colour. You’d mentioned it to him once when he’d asked in one of your classes why all of your notebooks were the same colour, since it seemed like it would be harder to differentiate between them if they weren’t instantly recognisable. He’d logged that information immediately, so he could use it in the future. You see, he’d found himself slowly being drawn to you, to your personality and your interests. He liked to hear you talk, and liked to work with you, to tell you about what he’d been working on or doing. You’d talk about your hobbies and his matches and both of your struggles in different subjects.

A fond smile came to his face at the thought of you, and he decidedly grabbed that pair of kneepads to take to the till. After 5 minutes examining tape for Komori, and taking a small selection so it would last him a while, he approached to the till with his purchases in his hands, only to almost drop them in surprise as you waved at him from behind the counter.

“Hi, Sakusa-san!” You smiled at him, and he quietly placed the objects in his arms onto the counter for you to scan.

“I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, I only got the job recently!” You said as you scanned the tape. “Oh! These kneepads are my favourite colour! Nice taste!” Smiling, you placed everything into a bag and handed it to him with another wave.

“It’s been nice seeing you!”

He nodded and walked away towards the door, only faintly catching the words of your colleague on the other till.

“Do you know him?”

He could hear the smile in your voice, “Yeah! We’re in the same class for maths, and I go to all of his volleyball matches...” You trailed of slightly, your next phrase being rather quieter, “I actually... really like him... I’ve liked him for a while.”

There was a slight grin spreading across his face as he left, the heat in his ears giving away his feelings, as he plotted to ask you on a date as soon as he got you an appropriate gift... It would be your favourite colour, of course.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #drabble #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu ficlet #ficlets #drabbles #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #miya osamu #osamu x reader #osamu x gn!reader #hinata shoyou #hinata x reader #hinata x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x gn!reader #🕰 widdershins #this one was SO FUN

[ikeromantic]

Hero's Welcome

A Mitsuhide Akechi story, this scene occurs toward the end of Ch. 13 in the romantic route. Spoilers! Approx. 2500 words.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Delicious SFW/NSFW

As the walls of Azuchi drew closer, Mitsuhide felt a wave of relief. Of course, it was followed shortly by a new tension. He wasn’t sure if Nobunaga would grant him the right to marry his little one, or if he did, what the condition of that union might be. It was practical to make your first bride a political alliance - to give the place of privilege to a powerful family’s daughter. But Mitsuhide had no stomach for that.

He wanted just her.

The chatelaine didn’t seem to notice his reticence to return. In fact, she was practically bouncing on her toes in excitement. She kept walking faster, nearly running toward the city gate.

“There’s no reason to run, little mouse. Azuchi isn’t going anywhere.”

She stopped to turn and smile at him. “I’m just so glad to finally be home.”

Mitsuhide smiled and held out his hand. “Let’s go in together.”

Ranmaru and Hideyoshi were waiting for them.

Mitsuhide watched the cheerful page and wondered if Ranmaru knew that he knew . . . He would need to watch him even more carefully now. Kennyo knew his weakness and Ranmaru was perfectly positioned to take advantage of it.

Hideyoshi interrupted his train of thought with a restrained greeting. His eyes searched first the chatelaine and then Mitsuhide, looking for injuries. For signs of their struggle. “Welcome back,” he said.

“Happy to see us?” Mitsuhide’s thin smile turned his lips up at the corners.

“I am.”

The chatelaine hugged Ranmaru and then wrapped her arms around Hideyoshi. He awkwardly patted her head. “It’s good to see you.”

To Mitsuhide’s ear, his voice sounded strained, but the chatelaine didn’t seem to notice. She grinned up at him.

“I missed you! Both of you! Where is everyone else?”

Hideyoshi extracted himself from her embrace and nodded toward the castle. “Waiting for you both there. We weren’t sure you would make it back today.”

Ranmaru gave a sly smile. “Hideyoshi has been at the gates every day since we received word that the shogun has . . . decided to go into seclusion.”

“I haven’t,” Hideyoshi sputtered.

Mitsuhide shook his head. Hideyoshi was a terrible liar. “We best not keep the others waiting. Come, little one.”

The chatelaine took his hand again. Ranmaru and Hideyoshi led them back.

As they walked through the city, Mitsuhide took note of the mood there. People seemed largely unaware of the conflict, though he noted few merchants from outer provinces. Likely the result of the false conflict with Echigo. A small price to pay, considering the alternatives.

The shadow of Azuchi’s tenshu fell across Mitsuhide’s face as they drew up to the gates. Apropo, he thought, and squeezed his beloved’s hand. She would be his light in any shadow, even this one that came of his own choice.

Surprisingly, the other members of the Oda alliance were all there in the courtyard. Seeing them, his little mouse broke into a run. He could have let go of her hand, followed her in, but he never wanted to release her. Instead, he ran with her. He could tell this amused Nobunaga by the rise of his brows.

Ieyasu actually grinned. “Mitsuhide is actually running somewhere instead of slowly sauntering. I’ve seen everything now.”

Masamune waggled his eyebrows. Never one for subtlety, he said in a loud voice, “That was one hell of a sight!”

Mitsunari nodded, his angelic face lit by a sweet smile. “I understand them completely. I am so excited they are back.”

Ieyasu rolled his eyes and sighed.

Mitsuhide seconded that. “Have things been so empty in my absence that you all have an excess of free time to stand around in the courtyard?”

Hideyoshi frowned. “Free time? Do you have any idea how much time and energy we spent worrying about you both? You sent few enough messages and what you did send - “

“Ah, it’s been so long I almost forgot what one of your lectures felt like. Please. Do continue.”

The chatelaine giggled, Masamune snorted a laugh, and even Ieyasu cracked a small smile.

“Oh, I will,” Hideyoshi’s face flushed.

Before he could get up steam to really lay into Mitsuhide, Mitsunari came to the rescue. He laid a hand on Hideyoshi’s arm. “We really should get them both inside. They look tired and in need of refreshment. Should I prepare some tea?”

This was sufficient threat to unite the two men. “No,” both said in tandem.

Masamune took the chatelaine’s arm. “I’ve prepared some welcome home treats just for you.”

Mitsuhide might have intervened if Nobunaga had not taken that moment to speak. “Mitsuhide, and my chatelaine. You’ve returned.”

The two of them bowed, and brought Masamune with them as he hadn’t released the chatelaine just yet.

“We have, my lord.” Mitsuhide held his bow. Officially, he was disgraced and this was his crawl back to service. He had to play the part, much as it grated.

“You have done well, Mitsuhide.” Nobunaga’s voice was loud enough that the passing servants and guards would hear. A signal that the wayward kitsune was welcomed back with open arms.

Mitsuhide and his little mouse straightened. It was the welcome he’d hoped for, but hadn’t expected. Nobunaga could have left him in limbo - an uncertain status with conditional forgiveness. Of course, even with this pronouncement, Mitsuhide intended to stay at the fringes of the alliance. It was necessary.

Nobunaga then beckoned the chatelaine.

She let go of Mitsuhide’s arm. The absence of her made him feel unbalanced. He made as if to follow, but Hideyoshi and Masamune intercepted him.

“So?” Masamune’s one blue eye searched Mitsuhide’s face.

Hideyoshi’s jaw tightened. “She looks bruised. What happened?”

Mitsuhide gave them both his crescent moon smile. “The little mouse is a brave one. Now, if you don’t mind . . .”

“As it happens, I do. I have many questions about how this assignment wrapped up.” Hideyoshi’s expression was guarded. There was a wealth of brotherhood held tight behind walls of distrust and betrayal. He wasn’t ready to welcome the kitsune back with open arms.

“There’s no rush to report, Hideyoshi. I don’t plan on hiding or running from you.” Mitsuhide softened his smile. “Can we not celebrate our return first? Then I can provide an answer to all your questions. All together.”

Hideyoshi’s frown relented. “That would be a change.”

Masamune laughed as Mitsuhide nodded in agreement.

Though he would never admit it aloud, it felt good to be among friends. People who had shown time and again that they valued him. It hurt too. To know that his duty required their betrayal and may yet again.

Hideyoshi gestured to Ranmaru. “Make sure he doesn’t escape. I need to prepare a war council. Right now.”

Nobunaga and the chatelaine turned to look.

Ranmaru gave her a little bow. “I’m sorry my lady. I need to borrow Lord Mitsuhide for a bit. I promise to give him back.” His laugh was mischevious, high and false.

Nobunaga took the chatelaine’s hands. “We will speak again soon. I must attend to this.”

Mitsuhide waived to her, hoping to ease her sudden, worried look. “Why don’t you go rest now? I’ll be along soon.” He exchanged a look with Ieyasu, who thankfully understood what was needed.

She nodded, though she didn’t look happy about it.

“Mitsunari and I will walk you back to your rooms.” The young warlord took her arm gently.

Mitsunari was quick to follow. “Oh yes! Let’s walk together. You can tell me about your trip.” He smiled cheerily, as if oblivious to the tension.

Masamune looked between the chatelaine and Mitsuhide. “Think I’ll walk aways with the lass as well.”

“Good.” Nobunaga nodded. “You three can explain the current situation to her.”

When they disappeared into the castle grounds, Mitsuhide allowed Ranmaru to lead him to the council chamber. Nobunaga sat down at the head and Hideyoshi followed after.

“Ranmaru, bring us tea.”

The page bowed and left, casting a side-eyed glance at Mitsuhide once he did.

When only the three of them were left, Nobunaga spoke. “Your solution to the problem is novel, but carries with it some risk. There are still those that knew Yoshiaki personally.”

“Novel?” Hideyoshi sputtered. “All he did was delay the problem! When the emperor’s court learns what he’s done they’ll -”

“They won’t. The shogun will announce an interest in Buddhism and his need for solitude. This will keep most away. For the others . . . Kyubei and I will be there to guide him. I plan to keep an assistant at his side at all times.” Mitsuhide smiled. “And if it is discovered then, what says I had anything to do with it? Yoshiaki and I parted on amicable terms . . . if his scribe murders him in secret, it has nothing to do with me.”

Nobunaga thought about this in silence.

“You’re very sure of yourself.” Hideyoshi’s brows were drawn down, his face hard. “What happens if you’re wrong?”

“Then I will deal with whatever comes. Have I not done so, as long as you have known me?”

Hideyoshi gave a reluctant nod. “And the chatelaine? Why did you drag her into it? She was supposed to stay in Kyoto.” His voice rose on this question, stained with anger.

“I did leave her in Kyoto,” Mitsuhide sighed. “Yoshiaki went after her.”

Nobunaga’s face was impassive as he waited for additional explanation.

“His ninja kidnapped her and took her to the daimyo’s estate, bypassing our siege. He injured her,” Mitsuhide admitted. “But once in the estate, Kyubei was able to-”

“You couldn’t protect her from your enemies.” Hideyoshi’s voice was heavy with held emotion. “She was hurt because of you. She still has the bruises on her face, and who knows what other injuries! You - you-”

“Enough, Hideyoshi.” Nobunaga’s voice cracked like a whip. “The chatelaine was ordered to accompany him. She was hurt doing her duty. This fault does not lie on Akechi.”

Hideyoshi clamped his mouth shut, clearly not satisfied but unwilling to speak against Nobunaga.

“Yes, that is correct,” Mitsuhide inclined his head. “Even when our plans changed and she was captured, she performed admirably. Acting as both spy and distraction. I have a written report from Kyubei detailing their efforts, as well as some notes I took afterward.”

Nobunaga smiled. “So you come back to me having accomplished an impossible task. Yet I cannot publicly embrace you. Traitor twice over, and spy . . . what plan do you have now?”

Mitsuhide knew this was where things would get difficult. He faced it as he did most struggles. By smiling widely, his golden eyes like opaque windows giving nothing away. “I plan to be banished to my lands for a time, sent away with a bride to bind me to the Oda forces.”

Nobunaga’s eyebrows rose. Hideyoshi leapt to his feet.

“You can’t think-”

Ranmaru entered with the tea tray. “My lords?” He took in Mitsuhide’s smile and Hideyoshi’s posture. “I’ll just set this here.” He put the tray on the table, bowed, and left the room.

“Did you have a bride in mind,” Nobunaga asked after they were alone again. His gaze held a knowing light.

“I do.”

“You don’t get to betray us and then waltz back in, and, and, walk out with - she already - “ Hideyoshi didn’t seem to be able to finish his train of thought.

“Nobunaga Oda, my lord. I would humbly request permission to marry a princess in your keeping. You have already given your consent to our betrothal. I would take her into my family now.” Mitsuhide bowed low and held the position, waiting.

Hideyoshi, however, wasn’t going to let this moment pass. “No! My lord, you can’t really think that betrothal was serious! She’s half afraid of him! And - and just look at the state of her. She came back hurt. Because of him, his enemies - and it’s not the first time. He would drag her down with him. She deserves . . .”

“You?” Nobunaga’s voice was gentle, the question clear.

“My lord. I would keep her safe.” Hideyoshi bowed beside Mitsuhide.

“I am of a mind to let the fireball decide,” Nobunaga replied. “If I told her who she was going to marry, she’d likely refuse out of stubbornness.” He grinned. “She may not want either one of you.”

It was not the response Mitsuhide had hoped for. Not that he thought his little mouse would choose another - but he’d hoped Nobunaga would grant him this right clearly. Still, he rose and nodded. “As you will, my lord.”

Hideyoshi shot him a triumphant look. He clearly believed he’d be able to sway the girl. Which only proved he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.

Masamune, Ieyasu, and Mitsunari filed in and sat down.

“Did we miss anything,” the one-eyed dragon asked. His smile said he knew more than he was letting on.

Nobunaga shrugged. “Mitsuhide asked for leave to marry the chatelaine. I’ve told him she will pick her husband.”

Mitsunari smiled brightly. “That’s very kind of you, my lord. I’m sure she’ll choose wisely.”

“I doubt it,” Ieyasu muttered.

Masamune laughed.

“Now, there are more important things to discuss.” Nobunaga’s lips thinned line. “Echigo is still a problem. And we know the Mouri have something planned. What is more, Kennyo still seeks me for revenge. We cannot rest yet. Mitsuhide, what is the rest of your report.”

It took hours to discuss what he’d learned of the Mouri and the remnants of the Ikko Ikki. Plus Masamune and Hideyoshi both had reports on Echigo and the false conflict they’d staged. By the time the discussion ended, it was well past dark.

Crickets chirped and the trees whispered in a cool, night breeze. Overhead, the stars shone like gems. Mitsuhide found himself appreciating all of it, even as he hurried out. He went to the chatelaine’s quarters to find her, but her rooms were empty. It barely looked like she’d been there.

He knew where she would be, if not there, and he smiled. His steps were light as he approached his estate. Kyubei met him at the entrance.

“My lord. She waits for you in your room.”

“Bold little mouse, isn’t she?”

Kyubei smiled and ran a hand over his short hair. “She is. Last I checked on her, she was reading as she waited, though she looks in need of rest.”

“That sounds like her.” Mitsuhide left Kyubei and continued to his room.

He slid the door open gently and stepped inside. The room was spotless, much as it had been when he was imprisoned. And there at his desk, sat his little mouse. A book was open in front of her, though her eyes were shut tight. Her head lay on the desk, cushioned by her arm. She looked so sweet, so innocent, that for a moment, Mitsuhide’s chest hurt.

His footsteps were almost silent as he crossed the room. His fingertips brushed gently down her hair and the sweep of her neck. “No matter how many times I see your sleeping face, I find it hard to look away.”

Mitsuhide shrugged out of his haori and laid it over her shoulders to keep her warm. Then he set up the bed. He kept expecting her to wake, but she didn’t stir. When the futon was ready, he carefully lifted her up. Cradled against his chest like this, he felt reluctant to set her down. Only knowing she’d be in his arms all night made the choice easier.

When he lay down, she turned her face to her chest and curled tight against him. Mitsuhide put his arm around her and closed his eyes. This was a true welcome home, he thought. Wherever she was, would be home to him.

Next: Loyalties

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen hideyoshi #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

[forasecondtherewedwon]

3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian - ch. 3

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Chapters: 3/3

Read chapters one and two on Tumblr.

Chapter three summary: Sam and Bucky take a breather from Sharon’s party in High Town.

Sam walks back into the room from before. The one that could be a high-end boutique, or the lobby of a shady but untouchable law firm, or the backdrop for a photoshoot featuring an Avenger who wanted their surroundings to exude enviable elegance and expensiveness without at all detracting from their presence. Not to name names, or speak disdainfully of the dead.

Shrugging off the brown leather jacket Sharon leant him, Sam tosses it at the couch. Yeah, technically it’s on a collision course with the back of Bucky’s head, but since Bucky dodges without turning to look, he figures he can claim poor aim. Which Sam would normally never do, especially to Bucky, but he has downed a few drinks tonight. Sharon wanted them to blend in at the party; Sam couldn’t see an easier way to blend than by doing his bit to deplete the contents of the event’s bar. He sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there pumping his arm to the beat like that motherfucker Zemo. Sam doesn’t know exactly what to blame for the Baron’s excruciating dance moves, he’s just glad he got away. Being near enough to Zemo for people to assume they were acquainted? Come on. That’s just insult on top of injury.

Bucky’s head swivels to follow him once Sam tracks into his line of sight.

“Where’s Zemo?” is the first thing he says.

Sam avoids his gaze until he’s good and comfortable on the couch at his side. It’s closer than he meant to be, since the damn thing has a curve to it, but the chairs don’t look comfortable. Unless, he supposes, you’re a percher, like Sharon. Sam doesn’t perch.

To cover for the fact that he picked his seat without thorough reconnaissance and is, with his inhibitions a little lower than usual, both far too nervous and not nearly nervous enough, Sam spreads his knees to take up even more of the couch, draping his arms along the back. Finally, he glances at Bucky.

“Sharon’s doing her shift as babysitter,” Sam says.

“Hasn’t she done enough?”

“You wanna go back down there and spell her, be my guest.”

“Nah,” Bucky says, “I think I’m good.”

Bucky’s jacket is gone too, Sam notes, moving his own from where it landed to the chair opposite. Briefly, he lets himself be curious. Why does Sharon have a wardrobe of men’s clothes in enough sizes and styles to reasonably clad himself, Bucky, and Zemo for the evening? Are these things expensive? Are they valuable, like the Monet he saw on the way in? Maybe the clothes on his back belonged to some celebrity and are set to be sold off to the highest bidder. If that weren’t a selling point before, it could be now—everything itemized and tagged as having been worn by Sam Wilson, the Falcon, the Man Who Wouldn’t Be Captain America.

In the short silence, Sam feels himself beginning to frown, but he’s just the right side of buzzed to prevent those thoughts from dragging him down. He’s a cheerful drunk. Always has been. A hugger, a giggler, a piggyback ride-giver in his younger years.

“Do you think she’s doing alright?” Bucky asks, forever ready to be morose. “Sharon?” Sam wants to stick his finger in the indentation between Bucky’s eyebrows and wiggle it until the seriousness drops from his face. He wants to smooth his thumb over Bucky’s chin, wipe out the memory of Zemo’s touch when he offered Bucky to Selby like a thing instead of a human being. “I know she took your deal, a favour for a favour, but I’ve been trying to work out what my debt to her is. My notebook—”

“There’s no math for it, Buck,” Sam says. Though his tone is lazy, his words are certain. “Who owes what to who. We just have to make it right.” Mildly annoyed that he’s been drawn back into a heavy conversation, he sighs and slings his foot up to rest his ankle on his opposite knee. The movement bumps Bucky’s thigh momentarily. “Think I might owe Sharon a little less now that she made me wear a turtleneck to that party.”

Bucky snorts a laugh. Sam turns his head and gives him the finger, though he’s also smiling.

“I’m laughing at what you said,” Bucky claims, “not the shirt. You coulda picked something else.”

“It’s black and doesn’t have a pattern. After that Smiling Tiger getup, I felt like being inconspicuous, ok?”

“Ok. You don’t need my approval.”

“You’re damn right I don’t,” Sam agrees, still grinning.

“Suits you,” Bucky half-mumbles.

Sam huffs from his nose, all his laughter in that puff of air as he faces forward again, then tips his head back to check out Sharon’s high ceiling. With nothing but night through the tall windows and the room under-illuminated by the two lamps either left on by their host or switched on by Bucky, the ceiling’s dark grey instead of white. Shadowy. Unlike the menacing shadows that seemed to stretch after them on the streets of Low Town, sending an unpleasant tickle up the back of Sam’s neck, these are soft. It’s a surprisingly peaceful end to the day, considering what the past 24 hours have encompassed. Suddenly, Sam feels as though he’s been awake a long, long time. Doesn’t mean he’s ready to sleep yet.

“So,” he says, “downstairs. Why’d you leave? Most date-like thing we’ve done yet and I tear my eyes away from the trainwreck of Zemo’s dancing to find you gone.”

“The noise, the crowd, Zemo,” Bucky emphasizes, “like you said.”

“You brought him.”

“I know, I just…” Bucky slumps forward and hangs his head, hands clasped between his knees. He turns pained eyes on Sam and Sam moves his hand from the back of the couch to Bucky’s shoulder. From there to his upper back. From a grounding pressure to a gentle rub. Just a couple times, but he doesn’t pull away, perennially touchy when less than sober. “I don’t want him to control me.”

“He doesn’t,” Sam says firmly. “You were yourself at Selby’s.”

“His version of me. I don’t like the reminder. I don’t want to find out if I’d do it again, in that crowd of people, attack someone just because he told me to.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. I’m trusting you not to.”

“Is that smart?” Bucky asks, expression raw. Sam can feel the heat of his back through his shirt.

“It’s not totally smart. Can’t be, with you involved.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and smiles and Sam wants to cheer.

“I don’t know about that date,” Bucky says lightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back into the couch once more. It was a t-shirt under that jacket of his and Sam’s gaze slides to his arms, trying to look without looking. Only because the Vibranium one isn’t on display a lot. That’s all.

“Oh, here we go.”

Sam’s amazed at how his complaint sounds in this room, in this light, on this couch. Like the ceiling, it’s soft.

“It was too loud.”

“The last thing you called a date was a fight on the top of a truck speeding down a highway. Wasn’t exactly quiet.”

“Well,” Bucky tries again, “there were too many people.”

“Again, extra people weren’t a problem last time. Half a dozen Flag-Smashers, as I recall.”

“That was fun and all—”

“Which part?” Sam asks, smiling. “The part where you got hurled into a windshield by the woman you’d assumed was a hostage? Yeah, that part was fun for me too.”

“Can it.”

Bucky accompanies the words with a look that Sam could pick out a mile away as fake-grumpy. It cracks him up and he lifts his hand from Bucky’s back to shove his arm as he laughs.

“You called tonight a date,” Bucky says suddenly.

“No, I said… I said…” Sam squints at nothing as he retrieves his words in his mind. “Date-like.”

“Zemo got in my head and I got in yours.”

Instead of saying this miserably, Bucky looks quietly smug at his joke. Sam needs to set him straight; of course he didn’t think tonight was a date. With a massive bounty on their heads at the other end of Madripoor? With Zemo the third wheel always only an arm’s length away? And the current circumstances are beside the point because, fundamentally, Sam doesn’t know whether or not Bucky’s been joking from the start. Intentionally wrong-footing him, messing with him, like they’ve been doing as long as they’ve known each other.

“You’ve definitely done something,” Sam volunteers.

It’s his fourth drink talking, or maybe the fucking pickled snake organ he forced himself to swallow earlier. His jaw clenches fleetingly at the memory. Sarah’s gonna laugh her ass off when he tells her. Should be enough to balance out whatever ire she’ll be sending his way for that dumb shit he said about laundering money. Although she’ll get that he only said it to avoid getting shot (he won’t tell her how narrow that success was), she still won’t be thrilled that he made himself out to be a criminal. It’s the furthest thing from the kind of people the Wilsons are. He could always point a finger at how Bucky behaved—dropping everyone who ran at him with icily efficient twists and kicks—but he knows how Sarah would look at him, what she’d be thinking. That he and Bucky aren’t held to the same standard, externally or internally. That he talks about Bucky too often, so often that if he let his sister in on this stupid running joke they have about their ops being dates, she’d take it all wrong, think this was something serious and inevitable.

Sam swallows and laces his fingers together in his lap so he won’t reach out for Bucky again.

“I know I should’ve let you in on the plan to spring Zemo from prison,” Bucky says. Oh, he thinks Sam’s words were a subtle criticism, not an admission. That’s… good.

“But?”

“No excuses,” Bucky promises, stretching his neck from side to side. “I shoulda told you. Once I explained it, you would’ve seen that I was right and agreed with me.”

Sam gives the side of Bucky’s head a hard stare until he catches the smirk hiking his lips up on one side.

“Wow,” Sam says dryly, “that was almost you taking responsibility.”

“I take responsibility all the time.”

“The notebook, right?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe Zemo put his fuckin’ hands on something so private, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I get that it’s private,” Sam assures him, “but you can tell me shit. If you want.”

Bucky’s folded arms loosen and he shoots Sam a sideways glance that scans all over his face, measuring, cataloguing, computing with that cyborg brain Sam teases him about. Sam blinks back. He means it, and he meant it before when he said he’s trusting Bucky.

“Feels a little one-sided,” Bucky says.

“That’s because you won’t come home with me to meet Sarah and the boys. You already got your invitation into my personal life, you just haven’t used it.”

“We’ve been a little busy, Sam.”

Sam sighs loudly and pushes his sleeves up his arms against the warmth of the room.

“You can make time. Once we’re not on Zemo’s schedule.”

“He was supposed to be on ours,” Bucky mutters. “I don’t know how that happened.”

“It happened because you’re an idiot who didn’t tell me the plan.”

“It’s my fault we keep getting shot at.”

Sam ignores that, the happy looseness surging up inside him battling the gravity of Bucky’s self-pity.

“It’s your fault if you didn’t like the date,” he counters. “You got Zemo out of Germany, Zemo brought us to Madripoor. Low Town, Selby, Sharon—all that happened as a consequence. You didn’t like tonight’s date? That’s on you.”

“Date-like,” Bucky corrects with a sly smile. “The noise and the fighting last time were fine—”

“Were they?!”

“—I just thought the next date should be different.”

Sam laughs softly because this isn’t the first time Bucky’s made this sound like more than a joke, but it is the first time he’s done this at night. And without Sam’s sister and nephews in the next room, or the potential for anybody to drive past them on a country road that runs alongside untidy fields, but when they’re truly alone.

“How so?” Sam asks, heart pumping like the bass in the basement, where the party’s carrying on without the two of them.

Bucky loosens his arms even more, until his forearms rest on his thighs, until—when he rocks to the side, repositioning to face Sam—he can rest one on the back of the couch where Sam’s used to be. His hand hangs down and his fingers skim Sam’s shoulder.

“More private,” Bucky confesses.

“I didn’t know that’s what you wanted,” Sam says with an easy laugh because Bucky’s face is still a little too stern, but that could be self-consciousness. “Tell me how to get more than four stars, man.”

“And you’ll do it?”

“Depends. Try me,” he blurts.

He watches Bucky’s face pinch in then relax, going especially slack at the mouth, which gets closer when Bucky angles into his space. Sam’s fingers release and his back straightens as he shifts to square his body to Bucky’s. They’ve done something like this before, locked into stubborn, confrontational posture when Bucky makes Sam’s life difficult by refusing to go along with what he says, but not this. Not this exactly.

Sam doesn’t stiffen or jerk away, so Bucky keeps coming.

“Are you…?” Bucky asks, eyelashes fluttering as his lids raise and lower, looking from Sam’s eyes to his lips. “Is this…?”

Always talking.

Tilting his head and closing his eyes, Sam stamps his mouth to Bucky’s. He goes to break away after a few stunned seconds, but then Bucky’s hand lands on the back of his neck—warm; not the metal one—to hold them together. Sam meets Bucky’s seeking tongue with his own and feels scruff against his face as their mouths test and react to each other. Reflexively, Sam grips the front of Bucky’s tight, black t-shirt. The kiss is quick and feverish and, when Bucky’s fingers untense on his neck, Sam rests his face against Bucky’s.

He wouldn’t say he’s scared to move, but he’s wary. He can’t tell if they’ve fucked up their whole dynamic or taken it, at last, to a level it was always going to reach. Raising a hand to pat the side of his head and check that his goggles are in place, Sam stops, remembering he won’t feel the strap because he’s not in the air. It’s been a while since he felt lightheaded on the ground.

He clears his throat and draws back. Bucky starts to remove his hand from Sam’s neck, but Sam reaches up to keep it there. He juts his chin out challengingly as he holds Bucky’s eyes, thinking, for a second, of their joint session with Dr. Raynor.

“What’s the verdict?” Sam demands.

Bucky stares back solemnly.

“Four and a half.”

“I’m leaving you here in Madripoor,” Sam declares, pointing a finger down at Bucky’s abruptly and broadly grinning face as he pushes up from the couch.

He strides over to Sharon’s crystal decanters, laughing to himself and looking for water. There isn’t any, but she does have an insulated canister of dissolving ice cubes. Sam scoops a few into a tumbler and turns back to look silently at Bucky. He cups the base of the glass in his hot palm. Slowly, the ice starts to melt.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes #sambucky

[moosoobi]

Revelation

In the night: Chapter 1

T.Jeffy- Hamilton: the musical

Thomas’s interest in Y/N pulls him into a position he was previously blind to. They say every girl’s another mystery, but definitely not like this. Buckle your seatbelt Tommy, you’re in for a ride

Finally finished the first part of ITN (which is ironic since the moment I wrote this message I still haven’t finished it). I really hope I’m able to bring this story to life the way I want to and I hope y’all enjoy 😔💕. Here’s some stuff to expect:

Told from Thomas’s POV

Modern Au

College talk even though I’m literally in my second year of high school (so please bear with me) 

Ruh roh moments

Sorta weird POV/storytelling (I’m new to writing fics and stuff so this is definitely a learning opportunity) Also excuse my English errors: Though this is my only language, my school system seemed to fail in teaching me how to write

Word count: 6.7k (including separators) 

2 DISCLAIMERS:

TW: itty bitty angst, themes of injury/blood, etc. 

I’m not the best story writer, so after reading this chapter you may have many questions. Please keep in mind that this is one chapter out of (about) 10. Things that you may not understand in this chapter will most likely be explained in future chapters.

-Now Playing: In The Night by The Weeknd-

My God, she’s perfect 

     The way the sunlight reflects off of her glass skin. The sincerity in every word, every letter that she writes with her only pencil. To be that flawless, it’s a mystery to me. She takes a glance at me. Did she feel me staring? I duck down my head in embarrassment. 

“Jefferson, you oughta put that scholarship to good use”

     Professor Washington boomed to the entire class. I hear a fragment of her giggle. Her laugh is soft and naïve. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her happiness.

     Washington is right, though. It's my first semester after I came back from my student exchange program over in France and I can already feel my sanity slipping. France was a beauty to visit, so many customs and cultures I wish I could be flourished in right now. 

     But there was one thing great about going to school in New York: I get to sit in a classroom with Y/N L/N. 

     I’ve never talked to her formally, at least not yet. She’s always sitting alone, never answers any questions, but Professor Washington makes the class acknowledge her perfect test scores and fascinating interpretations 

     As the bell rings I watch her stand swiftly. Is she in a rush? I can't help but watch as her hair is flung over her shoulder. She stuffs her notebooks and singular pencil into her burgundy-magenta backpack. Hey, at least she has good taste in color. 

I don’t think you understand

     She sits alone everyday during lunch, yet she never looks bothered. Her energy is so compelling to me. A feeling about her that I cannot comprehend, something that feels greater than my existence. I just got to know. 

“Thomas, you gotta work on staring at people less noticeable” James catches my attention by pointing his fork a little too close to my face. 

      I was staring? Again?

     I shake my head to snap back to reality

“The great Thomas Jefferson is interested in someone for longer than 30 seconds. I gonna be honest with you Thom, that’s impressing”

     I hear James laugh as he violently stabs a few pieces of pasta onto his fork. 

     James has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We went to the same middle and high school down in Virginia, and just coincidentally ended up going to the same college in New York. 

     We’re always there for each other. I remember cheering for him at a high school assembly after he won a story writing challenge, he’s such a nerd. Then again, he had to drive me home a couple of times after I failed multiple driving tests.

     Back in high school, James was the Chess Club Champion, a title he always shoved down my throat. It’s no secret why, though. He’s really good at thinking things through, While I on the other hand tend to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“Shut it James” I sarcastically retort, taking a sip of the expensive chocolate milk which my scholarship supposedly pays for 

Hey, can I sit here?

     I talked to her during class. Her voice is angelic: Now, I’m not one to be religious and all, but that voice could get me on my knees praying for forgiveness. My ego couldn’t get me anywhere at all, as if she already knew my tactics, she knew my flirts, and how? I guess it just adds to her mystery.

“C'mon! that one works every time!” I whine

“Don't be so full of yourself Jefferson, I’ve heard them all before” A smile danced across her face

     She did, however, laugh at some of my remarks. It's good to know that she has a sense of humor. My jokes of Professor Washington’s shiny, bald head. The jokes of Professor Washington’s assistant, John Adams, who’s suspiciously absent considering he signed up for this job.

     Heck, I would even make fun of myself if it meant I got to hear that graceful laugh one more time- actually, that might be a little too far.

     Many days of giggling in class came after that day. I can see her starting to open up to my friends and I, like she’s spreading her wings and showing us the greatness that lies behind the social wall that she put up years ago. Even when we got in trouble for a little too much giggling in the back of the class, I sacrificed my own pride so she didn’t have to. Yes, I, Thee Thomas Jefferson, did that. 

---

     Even though I could see the social wall she put up, I knew one day Y/n would fall for my charming pick up lines, or maybe I just happened to have a lucky day:

“Y/N I need some a some help with my math homework” 

     Y/N glances over to me in concern. I fake a scared expression.

“Quick!” I swiftly grab her shoulder and shake her “What’s your phone number?”

     She playfully smacks my arm

---

     Obtaining her number felt like a rite of passage, like I’m important to her, like she wants me in her life. I couldn’t stop smiling that day, and of course James just had to make a comment on it. 

“Thomas, if you keep smiling like that I’m going to start thinking that your sick or something”

      James said as he shut my laptop, tired of waiting for me to pack my things.

“Now that's REAL ironic coming from you, James” 

      I raised an eyebrow as my laugh begins to come up my throat. I take my closed laptop and shove it somewhere into my backpack.

“Okay, leaving for a month in sophomore year just because of a little fever doesn’t make ‘being sick’ as part of my trade mark” 

     James playfully smacked the back of my head. Thankfully, my curls serve as protection, not just to make me sinfully handsome. James and I walk out of the freezing lecture hall and were hit with the crisp-coldness of New York.

     To the right of me I catch a glimpse of that eye catching burgundy-magenta backpack as it’s thrown into the trunk of a shiny, expensive car. My feet keep its motion as my head turns to see Y/N standing at the door of the car. 

“Yo, is that Y/N?” I hear James whisper behind me “and who’s that?” 

     My attention is suddenly drawn to the tall man walking around the car to open her door. His curly hair is pulled into a small bun and the smile he had on his face broke apart the stubble on his jaw. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. 

“I’m just as clueless as you are”

     Keeping my glance on Y/N and the man, I watch as the man opens the door for her. My stomach turns as I watch Y/N smile back at him as she sits in the car. 

     For a split second, I swear I saw her shoot a soft glance at me. My feet almost stop in their tracks before I feel James’ hand yank me onto another pathway. 

“I’m all for you being head over heels, but we’re gonna be late to our study session with Angie” 

     Reality starts to set back into my head. 

“Right, lets dip.” 

---

“So little Tommy is Infatuated with this woman?”

     Angie’s eyes are piercing, and her luscious hair frames her face in a saintly manner. She slips off her baby pink coat to ease into her library seat. Her eyebrow raises as she takes a sip of her steaming coffee

     Of course James wouldn’t shut his mouth, especially around the notorious Angelica Schuyler.

     Angie’s pretty popular here, I find myself wondering why she has so many connections, yet it’s not just any reason(s) why she seems to be in the spotlight.

     1: She’s the oldest Schuyler. Her last name definitely got her places, not like I’m one to talk. Everyone seems to know her, not just at school, but all around New York City, and with her 5,000 Instagram followers, her first name’s starting to catch up with her last name in popularity

     2: Angie’s Daddy has money money. And that’s no secret when she decides to walk around campus with her designer handbags and shoes. I tend to think she always gets what she wants, but I know deep down, she’s never gonna be satisfied. Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth

     And finally,

     3: Miss Schuyler here is Bold. She’s never afraid to put both me and James in our place. It’s almost as if she can’t be touched by anyone’s thoughts of her, then again the gossip in NYC is terribly insidious. With such grace and respect, Angelica is not afraid to throw your opinion into the ground.

“Yeah I swear, Jefferson would’ve gotten run over if I didn’t pull him onto the pathway” James attempted to tone down his laugh so the librarian wouldn’t stab him with those old, sharp eyes

“She-...”

For the first time, I didn’t know how to recoil

 “..Just caught me off guard.”. In an attempt to change the topic, I flipped through the pages of his textbook. 

Angelica and James shared an astonished glance at Thomas before looking at each other. I could hear James shrug and flipping open his textbook. I lift my head as I hear Angelica dig through her bag

“Alright let’s get started” Angie claps her hands together with determination

—-

     It’s been 2 hours of studying in the ghostly library. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the talk forever.

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you invite her to our next study session?”

     Angelica smirked as she rudely shut my laptop. I desperately imagine the day where both James and Angelica leave me alone. I angrily glare up at her, but she has a good idea

“Actually, that’s not to bad of an idea” I ponder for a moment before retrieving my phone from my pocket

Thomas: Hey Y/N, u free this week?

     Hmm. Is this okay? Nah it’s too straight forward. I sigh as I deleted and retyped the message

Thomas: Greetings Ms. L/N, this is Mr. Jefferson from class. Would you delight me by partaking in a study session? 

What the heck Jefferson? I began to get frustrated from this nonsense. It’s just a text, why am I getting so anal over it?

Thomas: Hey Y/N, ds@insdas/19z7dnesdc-

     Angelica, who was watching me the entire time, snatched the phone from my hands. I attempted to protest, yet Angelica Schuyler knows how to hold her ground.

“Angie wh-” 

“I’ll do you a favor, Jefferson.” She said sternly. There was no way I was getting that phone back, heck, I would be lucky if I got it back in one piece

“Aaaaand sent!” I heard her squeal 

     Angelica suddenly tossed the phone to me and I fumbled it between my hands before I held it stably. I check to see the text that Angelica sent from my phone

Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?

Oh. It was that easy.

“Thanks Angie”

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Part of me was excited to have an excuse to text Y/N, yet I do wonder how awkward it would be if she rejected the offer. I mean, she already has the perfect grades, why would she need the extra help?

I start to rethink my decision.

—-

     It wasn’t until 11 pm at night until I got a reply from Y/N. Beforehand, I arrived at my apartment around 8 pm. As soon as my door shut, the room was filled with growls indicating my current problem: hunger. That could only be solved with one solution: microwavable mac and cheese. 

     My phone dinged while I was laying motionless on my bed. My apartment was right next to the street, and all I could hear was the busy streets of New York City.

     My eyes opened as I turned to my charging phone. 

Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way

     I was filled with joy, so much that I couldn’t wait another second to reply. 

Thomas: Alright, we meet at the library after our class. Can you make it? 

     Seeing the three dots jump melodically made my stomach feel as if two fairies were dancing throughout my body. Any second now, any second. ding!

Y/N: sounds good!

     I guess it’s settled, I get to hang out with the puzzling Y/N L/N, and maybe I’ll get to learn a bit more about her. But just because it’s a study session doesn’t mean I can’t show her what a southern gentleman looks like, and for the first time, I’m so excited to study

---

     James, Y/N, and I walk out of professor Washington’s class, laughing our asses off over some stupid joke. Everyone around us appears to be annoyed, especially with having to sit through almost two hours of my friends and I laughing in the back of the class, but it’s not like I care.

     Once we’re hit by the bitter cold of New York, my eyes are immediately drawn to that expensive car. So familiar and so faint in head, the memory of Y/N smiling as she hopped into his car replays in my brain.

“I’ll be back guys”

     Y/N excuses herself from the group before lightly jogging to the car. Her hair was graceful in the wind, and her burgundy-magenta backpack didn’t seem to weigh her down at all. For a split second, my brain acknowledges that mysterious man in the driver’s seat. There was a moment of awkward eye contact with him, his cold eyes pierced through me before my attention was drawn back to Y/N. She fixes her hair and jacket.

That was cute.

What?

     James and I watch Y/N before turning to each other. I suggest to James that we wait for her, show a little southern hospitality. Even though Y/N seems to be fond of this man, he gives off a mysterious vibe similar to Y/N’s, but I do not want to unravel that mystery at all.

     Seeing him throw a smirk at Y/N causes discomfort in my stomach. 

     Y/N comes prancing back to us, an embarrassed smile on her face. Behind her, that shiny, expensive car begins to drive away.

“My bad, I forgot to tell my roommate that I would be out late”

“That’s your roommate?” James asks, attempting to hide his curiosity and shock

“and he takes you home after class?” I interrupt briefly

Y/N nervously laughs before nodding “something like that, he just..”

     That pause was a little too long

“..doesn’t like me out of the house too late so he volunteers to drive me home all the time”

     I shrug it off before jumping at the feeling of James’ warm hands pulling Y/N and I to the direction of the library. Y/N and I look at him with confusion

“What? Angie doesn’t like when we’re late, remember?” James says, practically dragging us to the Library

—-

“Nice to meet you”

     Angelica and Y/N got along pretty well. I can tell Angie was happy to finally have a girl to hangout with rather than having to deal with me and James only. She’s already starting to resemble a sisterly figure to Y/N, then again, growing up with two sisters must’ve prepared Angie for this moment.

     I don’t hear much about the other Schuylers, but I am familiar with them. Angelica is the oldest, as we know. Her first sister, Eliza Sch- I’m pretty sure she got married, is the nicest person you’ll meet. Whoever won her surely must be worthy, because we all know people like me wouldn’t get anywhere near Eliza thanks to her older sister. Her youngest sister, Margarita Peggy Schuyler, is just like Angelica.

     Stubborn. As. Fuck.

     I’m confident that Angelica has taught her that philosophy since she was born. Anyway, Peggy is currently living her dreams in Southern California. Not sure what she does, but I’m sure she’s financially stable, she is a Schuyler after all.

     All of us struggle to not annoy the librarian, let alone the entire library. I watch as Y/N opens up, just a little more, to Angelica, James, and I.

     Hours pass as we clown around in the library. From actually completing class work to a small drawing competition between James and I, I was certainly having a good time, and so was everyone else.

     It was pleasing to see Y/N more laid back rather than how she acts in class. In front of Professor Washington she’s so ‘put together’ and organized, but surrounded by her friends she’s such an amazing person, her range in professionalism and humor is astounding.

     I can’t seem to ignore the fact that Angelica notices the way I look at Y/N. It’s definitely not in my strong suit to be ‘low key’, I’m known for dramatic entrances and stealing the spotlight. She smiles when I make eye contact with her, and I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of annoying me, but I can’t help the way I look at Y/N. She really is an angel sent down from heaven, disguised as a college student, and I’m just lucky enough to be her friend.

     I’m blind to her flaws. When I see her, I feel like a tourist glancing at the Mona Lisa, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders, and the way the library lighting reflects off of her glowing skin.

     What felt like a sledgehammer breaking a slab of fragile glass, I see Y/N’s phone light up. Even across the table I can read the word “Lafayette” off of her phone. I can’t lie, it surely sounds familiar.

     When she finally noticed her phone flash on, I feel her ease turn into worry, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by James, Angie, and I. She starts to pack away her books

“My bad guys, I really gotta go”

     Y/N said notably panicking. Her phone flashes once again, yet the only thing that seems to catch my eyes is the bold “7:30” spread across the top of her phone.

“Are you okay by yourself?” I asked, trying my best not to pry into her business

“Yeah, my roommates here to pick me up, I don’t want to make him wait” she tried to play it off, but I’m learning to see right through her

“Alright, see you next time Y/N” I shrug it off

     She sends my friends and I a quick smile before replying

“for sure”

     Angelica and James got back to work without saying a word, and I could tell they were waiting until she was gone to start teasing me. I eased back into my chair before flipping the pages of my notebook

     I watched as she shoved open the library door and disappeared into the darkness. She’s such a mystery, when I feel like she’s opening up, she just shuts the door and we’re back at square one. Though I do claim to love a good challenge, Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

—-

     And that’s when it started. It wasn’t just one time where 7:30 was Y/N magic number, oh no, it was oddly consistent. I’m convinced that Y/N is some variation of Cinderella; her polite attitude and the beautiful little things she does without acknowledging it all vanish when the clock strikes 8:00, but that’s just one of many theories made by James.

     Another study session with James and Angelica, and Y/N’s flashing screen still compelled Y/N to leave the library without a trace. On some occasions we don’t even notice her escape, we just turn to see her seat empty and feel the faint wind from outside as the library door slowly closes.

     One day Angie bought us all tickets to see the preview to the newest, scariest movie I’ve ever watched. I was accompanied by Y/N, James, and Angie, yet their presences made it worse. Halfway through the bucket of popcorn and the movie, Y/N suddenly stood up and left after saying those 5 words. Before she left, I felt the warmth of her hands leave the place on my arm.

I never knew how addicting her warmth would be until it was already gone.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go” The weak smile on her face instantly resonated feelings of sympathy and understanding.

     From then on, Y/N and I grew closer as friends. We’d fool around at a local park before heading to campus, obviously sparking a few observations and remarks from James. I’d invite her to fancy dinners, or maybe even a small festival down the road from my apartment, yet her response would always be proven false at the moment she’d leave me and my thoughts at 7:30.

     But that hasn’t stopped me from attempting to hang out with her. Even on the days I wouldn’t have class with her we’d go out and get ice cream, study at the park, I guess you can say we’ve gone on a few ‘dates’ since our initial study session.

     Whenever we’re apart, I can feel every second expanding to its maximum capacity of time. I wouldn’t see her for a day and it will already feel like years since I’ve seen her. The days I do see her, time seems to maneuver a little too fast. When I recall hanging out with Y/N, all I can imagine is the feeling of floating above the clouds every time she and I made physical contact. Like a rock being dropped into still water, ever touch ripples throughout my body, sending shivers down my spine.

Truly incredible.

—-

     She doesn’t like to talk about her personal life, and I find that quite odd. I’m usually one to continue rambling every detail of every trait of mine, yet I find myself yearning to learn more about her. 

     We text every now and then when we’re outside of class, a little more to be considered ‘just friends’. There’s always a story which unravels just a little more of Y/N’s past, and she’s left me on my own to connect the dots. I must say, she’s definitely an interesting gal, but I know there’s more to discover. 

     She’s a native New Yorker, born and raised, surviving by splitting an intense rent with her mysterious room mate. Y/N doesn’t talk much of her family, other than faint memories of her mother single handedly raising her and her little brother, who I’m fairly unaware of.

     Going into college undecided, Y/N describes her want to learn more about herself before she’s able to make any life determining choices. I’ve noticed that her schedule seems like a labyrinth avoiding life problems and obstacles, so perhaps being placed in the same class coincidentally was just fate playing its part.

     Y/N loves to explain her dream for workless weekends, moments in the week where she just gets to sit back, close her eyes, and breathe a little. With finals starting to appear from thin air, I can’t blame her for a dream so far from reality.

     Even with the knowledge I hold of her, something never seems to change: her disappearances at 7:30.

It’s always that damn 7:30.

     7:30--the cliffhanger your favorite show leaves you desiring for more

     the end of a fun night of laughter and glee, wishing it lasted just a little longer 

     the off-set energy in a room when those around you know something you don’t. 

     As days, weeks, and months pass since my first text proposal to hang out at the library, Y/N and I become a little closer than just friends. It’s been obvious, especially to James and Angie, that Y/N is more than capable of holding my attention.

     Though James is worried that Y/N will just become ‘another girl’ to me, concerning my tomcat nature in the past, he can see the potential I see in her. I find myself wishing I did spend more time with her, maybe I just need to make a better effort.

     I’ll prove James and Angie wrong. 

     Filled with determination and confidence, in the midst of my silent room, I whip out my phone and direct my attention towards forming a text message for Y/N

Thomas: let’s get coffee sometime?

     Jefferson charm, don’t fail me now.

---

     Before I knew it, Y/N and I were feasting on exotic cheeses and aged wine in my New York apartment. I hit play on a random romcom which helps to fill the emptiness in my apartment and ironically the thin space between Y/N and I. 

     I have no idea how to make my move. Though I’m not aware of my competition, I imagine if Y/N could attract someone of My caliber, I should be well aware of the things she’s capable of. Originally I planned to court her-- I know, I know, I’m a man of tradition--yet after James caught on to my recognizable frustration, He suggested I go for it. 

     This is surprising on multiple occasions, especially since James possesses the ‘brains’ between the both of us. Being the chess club champion, ‘talk’ won’t aid you when you're struggling in a chess match. Just like how he meticulously plays chess, he examines my situation and provides his Virginian insight, or so he prefers to call it, and they always proceed the way his scheme describes. 

     I’ve adhered his advice to my life ever since we were kids, and when I didn’t, he’d simply reply with: 

“I told you so” 

     His smug smirk accompanied with a finger pointing to his temple would soon transform from clever to annoying. 

     I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Well, of course it’s not Y/N texting so must I really answer it? I pull out my phone despite my doubts and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

James: 👍

Speak of the Devil.

     But enough about James. I understand that both Y/N and I are mature college students, yet I still fear the disruption in our friendship I can provoke just by making my move. I’ve gotten this far; If she wasn’t interesting I’m sure she would’ve rejected me sooner. 

     She’s different, she’s unique, something about her that I just can’t place, but also something missing. Anyway, this is probably my best chance at shooting my shot at Y/N, and it’s too late now to back down. 

     As my lips part in an attempt to speak and make a move, Y/N’s motionless phone (currently laying undisturbed on my coffee table) suddenly brightens with the most obnoxious ringtone I’ve ever heard. The words “It’s 7:30!” flash on her screen, almost as if it was warning her rather than reminding her. 

“Y/N—” my eyes follow her body as she swiftly stands up

“I gotta g—” I watch as she attempts to grab her purse, yet her body is limited when I firmly grab her arm. She looks back to me with tiredness in her eyes.

     Part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Cinderella here wouldn’t have a curfew. That I somehow would be the exemption to this consistent confusion . But you can only daydream so far into the day until you’re pulled back into your reality

     Her entire demeanor seems like it was reconstructed after her alarm went off. Moments ago she was just enjoying tasty cheese and cheesy movies, and the worst part is, I have no idea why.

“Let me speak, darlin’”

     I stand up to avoid the way her eyes look down on me. I can’t stand that pitiful glare; she looks at me as if I’m a child incapable of understanding her situation, but she’s too stubborn to let me know. I’d be wise to use this time to make a move on different circumstances.

“Now, you’re always leaving at seven thirty..”

     Her sigh is almost enough to interrupt me

“..why’s that? Talk to me.”

     I maintain my eye contact before it’s abruptly broken. She looks everywhere but my eyes, and I wonder where in my apartment she would find an excuse, yet still manages to dodge the question.

“..you wouldn’t understand..” she scoffs almost intentionally, honestly scratching a part of my ego. I hate to admit she’s right, I really don’t understand what’s going on.

     I cock my head to the side. Where’s this coming from?

“Darlin’, I’m sure I’m a very understanding person—”

“—I need to leave”

     I could tell by the look of her face that she wasn’t trying to argue, but it’s inevitable.

“Why can’t you just tell me?..” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat, but I’m not giving up yet. “We’ve been friends for a while and you’re always leavin’ at seven—”

“I know! I know..” she removes my hand from her arm, clearly refusing to look up at me.

“Let’s just say..I got a job..?”

     Oh. That’s what this is all about? A job? She couldn’t spare at least an explanation for a part time gig?

“See? That wasn’t so hard”

“It’s..really embarrassing..” The glance she takes around the room makes me wonder if she’s really telling the truth. it’s not really my place to speculate, there’s no going back from this.

“It’s alright, it’s just a job after all” I claim, trying to get this conversation back on track

“This is exactly what I meant but ‘you wouldn’t understand’”

Huh?

“You don’t know what it feels like to have your life rely on minimum wage—” she sounds like she’s holding something back.

“Y/N wher—”

“A-and here you are makin’ me late for work” her eyes appear on the verge of crying.

“darlin’ look..”

“God, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life!”

Silence.

     Both of us refuse to speak. Y/N phone, still on the table, chimes again. “7:35” it said on its bright screen.

“Is that really how you feel?..” I take a step back to give her space. She still refuses to look at me.

     There’s no way she’d cause all this chaos just because of a job. And even if she believes I’ve piggy backed off of my name for my entire life, why would it matter to her?

“I..I should leave” before I could process what just happened, she swiftly tosses her phone into her bag and heads for the door.

“Y’know, I had a nice time..” was all I heard before the harsh shutting of my apartment door.

     And that was the end of it.

     My first thought after the door shut wasn’t to whip out my phone and attempt to text her, it certainly wasn’t to call James and inform him of his miscalculation, but instead to attend to the matter at hand. This cheese and wine won’t clean itself.

     And the night continued normally, as if nothing had ever taken place. I couldn’t help but microwave another cup of Mac and cheese to cope with what Y/N said. Nothin’ like a good meal to divert your attention away from your problems. But even a good cup of cheese and pasta can’t stop me from thinking’: 

Is that all I am to her?

A southern snob incapable of functioning without their father’s last name?

     After an introspective shower, and a few episodes of a random Netflix show, I’m finally alone with my thoughts and feelings. I lie in darkness, tussling and turning at every occasion, unable to extract her words from my mind. 

     If there’s someone whose opinion I care about the most, it’s Y/N L/N. I consider texting her at this very moment, yet I’m sure that I’m the last person she wants to talk to. The weight of my actions falls heavily onto my shoulders every minute, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Give her space, Jefferson, and maybe you’ll be able to fix this tragedy. 

---

Knock! Knock! Knock!

     The knocks on my apartment door were enough to jerk my body back to consciousness. Sadly pulled from the warmth of my dreams, I’m hit with the cold, noisy reality of an average night here in New York.

Can my day get any worse?

     Coming straight from the depths of slumber, I take a few minutes to process reality. Maybe the knocks were in my head. Did I dream about someone knocking on my door? Perhaps it’s

The sun’s still not up yet, why am I?

     Groggily sitting up, I decide to check the time, yet it takes me multiple attempts to grab my phone in the dark before I catch a sight of the time.

2 am?!

     Who is so out of their minds so show up to my apartment at this time? Who do I know that would show up at this time?

James is too sensible for that,

Angie would never waste her time on me, for whatever reason,

And Y/N—

well.

I don’t know our circumstances right now.

     I debate whether or not I should answer the door. Perhaps it’s just rock that happened to hit the door of my apartment, and even if it is a person, I’m not aware of anyone so mad to show up in the middle of the night. it’s not worth my time.  

...

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

     So much for ‘Not worth my time’. A groan is all my body can respond with while I gradually stand from the comfort of my bed. I grab the nearest shirt, which was draped over my desk chair, and scramble to put it on. Passing my cramped kitchen, my hands subconsciously flip on the nearest light switches, while my eyes struggle to comprehend the sudden light. 

     Before I reach the door, I couldn’t help but attempt to fix my hair. Just because someone happens to show up outside unannounced doesn’t mean I can’t present my best rendition of a southern gentleman. 

     And finally, through my fatigue and irritation, I’m finally urged to grab the doorknob and twist it open in one motion. 

“Uh, it’s two a.m. so I hope--” 

     I nervously scratch the back of my head, attempting to add spice to this awkward encounter. It wasn’t until my eyes caught sight of the blood dripping down her glass skin and the meeting of our eyes did I have any words

“Y/N?!?”  

     Her cold, pale, and hurt body would’ve hit the concrete floor if I had answered the door any later.

--- 

     And there she layed half colorless on my bed. Her smile was full of embarrassment and gratitude as I sat beside her, tending to the evident cuts and Injured areas of her body. “I hope I’m being a great house guest” she joked, causing her to laugh, yet hurting herself in the process. 

“Hey, Hey, Take it easy..” Y/N’s presence usually fills me with carefreeness, or perhaps stability, but for the first time I can’t help but react seriously. Her demeanor changed as she saw my retaliation to her joke. 

“I guess…” she looked down to her fragile body, a sigh released, seeming to be an attempt to calm down. “...I owe you an explanation for earlier. And especially for showing up at your place at 2 in the damn morning. ” 

     Thomas’ hands, full of wipes and hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton balls, froze in their tracks before he looked up at her, eager to listen and visibly confused. Y/N visibly winced as the cotton balls stuck to her cuts for longer than they should’ve, yet with Thomas’ reflexes at their all-time-max, he pulled them away with a worried expression.

“Explanation? You said you got a job, and I’m sorry for not respecting it..” I continued to clean her up, consensually of course, how could I call myself a gentleman if I were to act upon improper motives? 

“Again..” I utter quietly “..I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m ashamed you feel that way” 

     I attach an ivory-colored band aid to her glass skin, careful not to damage it any further. I look up to her watching, pitiful eyes. “You were saying?” I reciprocate the attention to her, awaiting a so-called answer to come out of her mouth 

“I didn’t know where else to run to..” she attempted to sit up, lifting her weight off of my satin-covered sheets, yet quickly stopped when being hit with a wave of pain from her right shoulder 

     Though my first thought would’ve been ‘Damn it, my darn sheets are ruined’, it was quickly drawn to Y/N and her current problem 

“Y’know, I think an apology and explanation can wait, Y/N. you need a little sleep, it’s already three in the mornin’ for god’s sake” a small laugh erupts from her

    I sent her an assuring smile, trying to remind her that everything is always going to be okay in a Jefferson household. And surprisingly I received a smile in return, a smile of trust and security that I’ve never felt so glad to see. Of course, I wish I could’ve seen that smile under different circumstances, but I’ll work with what I got. 

     I stood from my beautiful satin sheets and reached for a hoodie on my swivel chair. (everything but your closet is a closet, change my mind) I braced for a cold night on my apartment couch while Y/N enjoys the warmth of my bed, but Y/N had other plans. 

“Wait- Thomas.” She said firmly 

     I turned tiredly to her direction, my arm already extended for the door, yet frozen in place as I awaited a response 

“Can you just..” she scoot herself over, as much as possible with her frail body “..hold me?” She watches me anxiously 

“I mean— you don’t have to b—” I didn’t hesitate at all to gently slide under the sheets of the bed. As soon as I turn to her direction, I can’t help but feel scared to touch her in fear of hurting her; my hands don’t know where to reside. “Where do I..” I’m truly perplexed 

     She giggled at my confusion and shyly grabbed my hand “I’m not so fragile you know” 

     She brought my hand up to the side of her head, and all I could process was the texture of the bandages under my fingertips. I don’t know what's going on, but I couldn’t just leave her out there. 

“..Right..” I wait for her eyes to close before I can even think about closing mine, and soon the texture of the bandages seem to melt onto my fingertips as I’m finally able to return to my slumber. 

“See you in the mornin’..” 

---

     I didn’t wake up until I felt the sun rays kissing my back through my so-called ‘blackout curtains’. Such a scam. The room seemed a little too quiet; I gently turned onto my other side just to find an empty bed. I consider the possibility of last night’s encounter with Y/N was all just some messed up dream, but when I saw the faint stains of blood on my sheets, I knew I was far from dreaming. 

     My body doesn’t want to move, and I’m stuck sitting up in my bed for another ten minutes. What the heck is going on? One minute she yells at me, then next thing I know she’s outside my apartment at 2 am. 

And that explanation. 

     I guess I was such a fool to think she wouldn’t continue to run away from this matter. My thoughts are interrupted by my buzzing phone. I know for sure that it’s not Y/N hittin up my phone right about now. 

James: Let’s try that new coffee place a few blocks from your apartment? 

     He really read my mind, or maybe it’s a response made from calculating my failure yesterday. But a distraction sounds tremendous. 

Thomas: bet. 

     I throw on a cleaner, more professional jacket, if such a thing exists, and swiftly get my feet out the door. Everything seems the same, as if nothing had taken place last night. The world still spins and I’m expected to spin with it. 

I don’t think I’m anywhere near capable of unraveling your mystery. 

Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

#thomas jefferson fanfic #thomas jefferson #Daveed Diggs #daveed x reader #thomas x reader #alexander hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamiltonau #Angelica Schuyler #james madison #marquis de Lafayette #lafayette x reader #lafayette #george washington #washington #John Laurens #hercules mulligan #thomas jefferson x reader

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Out of curiosity, do Callie and chris ever run into each other/ confront each other after

CW: Referenced head-banging and resulting injury, brief ableism references, gaslighting, vaguely referenced institutional pet whump

(for context, see This Isn’t Hypothetical For Chris, “Can You Come Get Me?”, No Words, and Drop)

“Um. Hey.”

Chris, in the midst of a careful, incredibly precise drawing of a tiny Easter Island moai while studying for the Non-Western Art History test, looks up, only to freeze, his fingers tensing around his pencil until he presses so hard the lead snaps off, rolling down the notebook.

His hair is pulled back, caught at his nape with a clip Mari let him borrow, but he wishes all at once that it weren’t, so he could shake it over his face, hide behind it. That it wasn’t blue but some color no one saw in a crowd, so she wouldn’t have seen him and known it was him.

He hesitates too long, and she shifts, moving herself into his field of vision again. “Chris, are you-... are you busy?”

“Hey, um, hi... hi, Callie,” Chris mumbles, looking back down again, clicking the end of the mechanical pencil to get more lead, enjoying the sound and the very slight press of the eraser against his thumb. “I’m just, just studying. What, um, what do, do, do-do you... what do you want?”

She seems to take it as an invitation, which it isn’t. When she pulls out the chair across the table, the legs scrape along the floor impossibly loudly, but only Chris seems bothered by it. The sound makes his teeth itch, a feeling he can’t possibly describe in any other way. When he moves the chair, he picks it up, carefully placing it back down, avoiding the sound that shudders through him and digs into the tiniest bones. 

Everyone else just scrapes. 

She tucks some of her own bouncy, wavy brown hair behind one ear. It’s chilly today, it was so foggy this morning Chris could barely see from one side of the bridge to the other when he crossed over the highway to the other side of campus to get some coffee to help him cram before the test. Callie is wearing a heavy cable-knit sweater that drapes just so off one shoulder, showing the silken strap there, and skintight dark jeans. She looks really pretty, but Chris mostly thinks everyone looks pretty. 

Even Dylan in the morning looks pretty, with his hair all messed up. Even though Chris is still kind of mad at him and probably always will be. 

Chris is in his usual thick black compression shirt, helping him hold off the weight of the lights, keeping the prickle of the Student Center from digging too deeply into his skin. Over that, a t-shirt from the Lion King musical that Mari brought back from her last trip home - (”I have like five, now, Chris, I’ve seen it in like six different places you can have this one, if you want? It’s from when I saw it in Chicago.” And of course he did, he is starting a small collection of shirts he had gotten from nearly everyone he knows), and one of Jake’s heavy sweater-coats, borrowed - but really stolen - from the house last weekend. Jake pretends not to know. Chris brings them back eventually.

Between Chris and Kauri, it’s a miracle Jake ever has anything warm to wear at all.

“So, I just-... I wanted to, um. I haven’t seen you around-... oh, did you get hurt?” She cocks her head to the side, and Chris looks away from her, spinning the pencil in his fingers, his foot tapping on the ground now, nervous energy bubbling inside him. 

There’s a bandage, still, on his forehead. He wishes he could say it was from the day in class, but it’s not. It’s from a few days ago, after meeting with the grad student to sign stuff to drop the class. It’s from coming home with all his hurt and fear a spinning top that he could only calm by breaking its rhythm, and he’s, it’s regression, but it’s okay, sometimes you go back and you get back up and go forward again, Dr. Berger says it’s okay sometimes to backslide as long as you know you have people to help you get up-

“I’m fine,” He says, flat and smooth words, barely his own voice at all. “Hit my head on, on, on a cabinet.”

Technically true.

She nods, folding her hands in her lap, watching him with those sort of big sad eyes people get sometimes, when they’re working up to something and want you to know they’re not the bad guy. Her drink has a cloth sleeve on it with tiny little bow ties. He wonders if she made it herself.

She clears her throat. “Okay, um. Good to hear it. So... I just... I heard you dropped.”

“Yep.” Chris keeps his eyes down now, on his pencil. The gentle weight of his feather necklace reminds him that he has other options, too. For now, though, he spins his pencil on top of his open notebook, the drawing of the moai. “Who told you that, um, that-... that I, I dropped?”

“I mean, when you weren’t in class for a couple weeks-... you know at first I thought you just, like, you know... the teacher told you not to come by, but then you kept not coming, and...” She kind of throws her hands up. Hers are painted a cheerful blue-toned red. Chris’s are black, but they’re heavily chipped. He’s been picking at them again. “I asked Esh, finally, and he said-”

“Eshiram.”

“What?” She blinks, confused. 

“Not Esh. His, his, his name’s Eshiram.”

“No, I know, I just-... whatever. Look, so, I get that you’re probably still pretty mad, and... I’ve kind of been trying to hunt you down to say I’m sorry.”

Chris, caught off guard, pauses in spinning his pencil and turns to look at her again. “What?”

“About... I would never, ever have wanted you to feel you had to drop the class, Chris, I swear.” She leans forward, all earnest sincerity, and there’s a look of guilt on her that makes him think she means it. It wasn’t her idea, after all - if she’s even fucking talking to him, she doesn’t know what he is, she didn’t catch it like the grad student did.

After the drawn out moment, his foot starts to tap on the floor again. “It’s, um, it’s, it’s, it’s okay,” He says, wishing he had his own drink, something to hold in his hands and sip. The nerves start to wind up inside him, and he drops one hand down where she can’t see it, starts to tap on the side of his thigh.

“No, it’s not.” Callie sighs, shaking her head. Her hair moves with the motion and he catches a hint of her shampoo, it smells like fruit and honey. “It’s not, Chris. Look, I just-... I took everything you said super personally, and that wasn’t okay. I get that you, you know, you weren’t really talking about me.”

Chris turns to look at her, blinking wide green eyes, thinking, Yes, I was.

He opens his mouth to maybe tell her, but the pause goes on too long and she’s already talking again before he can. “There’s all these reports about abuse, and everything, I swear more than ever, and it just-... puts me on edge, you know? So I heard you saying-... well, you know. You don’t know that things are better at our house. All you know is what you’ve, you know, seen on the news.”

Chris takes in a breath and holds it, tapping hard against the seam of his jeans. He isn’t going to get angry. Getting angry made him have to drop and lose points off his GPA, getting angry gets him noticed by too many people all at once, angry feels heavy and hurting, angry draws attention, attention mean eyes and hands and-

Let the breath out. Exhale. He has to purposefully remind himself to do it.

“I, I, I know more than, um, than that,” He manages to say, but his voice is small. He’s no good at being angry, when it’s not in the moment, when there’s nothing to draw him out of himself. “I don’t, don’t just... build sets all day, Callie, I’m, I’m, I know other, um, other things.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Like, I’m surprised you’re not, like, a math major or something, like in that movie-”

Chris sits back and snorts out bitter laughter. “You, you, you mean, um, The Gift?”

“Yeah! Vincent Shield did such a good job, they said he did a bunch of like, work to really get into character which is so cool since he was only, like, sixteen when he did that one with that, you know, the other guy he did movies with all the time-”

“Owen-... Owen Grant.”

“Yeah! I wonder what happened to him. Anyway-”

“Do you, do... do, do, do you think-... Callie, I suck at, um, at math.” Chris can’t help himself. He starts to laugh at the absurdity, and Callie looks like he’s hit her across the face, wide-eyed, shocked. “This is, um, this, this is, this-... this is a really, really-... really bad apology.”

“Yeah, I know.” Callie kind of laughs along with him, then, but there’s something fake and brittle to her laughter. “But I swear, I just came to say I’m sorry. It was just a misunderstanding, I really didn’t mean for you to have to drop. I swear, Chris, I don’t, like, hate you or think anything bad about you-”

You called me a fucking spastic.

“-or anything like that. I just... can you forgive me for losing my temper? I’m sorry, it’s just, when my family is attacked by people who don’t even know us, I get super defensive, and-... and I should have realized you weren’t really attacking us, just, you know, the system.”

Chris stares down at his shoes. He thinks, you are the system, it doesn’t exist without people like you who buy us, but he doesn’t say anything.

She seems to take this as agreement.

It isn’t.

“So, yeah. I’m just... I’m really sorry, Chris. Will this throw your whole, you know, graduation and everything off, or do you think you’ll still be good?”

Does she even really care? Chris swallows and raises his head, to look at her again, fixing his eyes just slightly to the left of her face, where it won’t be obvious he isn’t focused on her. An old trick, one he used to do to stay safe in training, maybe... maybe before that.

Even though he can’t remember a before that anymore.

Because of people who buy people like him.

“I’ll, um, I’ll be good,” He says, and the words taste like dust and feel like gravel on his tongue. “I worked out a, a, a-a plan with, with my, um advisor. So I’ll... I’ll be-”

so good for you

“Fine.”

“Great.” She relaxes, all smiles again, and reaches over putting her hand over his left arm, gripping a little. Chris feels the weight of it like the clap of restraints forcing him down on a table and stiffens, looking right at her the way he’s supposed to.

Years go by, but the training isn’t gone. Not all the way.

“Listen,” She says, voice low. “I really am sorry. But you just-... can’t go around thinking everybody who does something you don’t like is bad, you know?”

His heart races in his throat, he can barely swallow around it. “Yes,” He says, softly. She doesn’t hear the first stirrings of panic. But he feels them. “I... know.”

Good boy.

“I’ll see you around, Chris, okay? I’m glad we talked about this.” She pats his arm, like a handler almost, and then pushes herself to her feet. The chair scrapes back and Chris’s teeth grind together as the sound ricochets around inside him. The dim warm lights overhead lay heavily over the fabric he wears to protect himself from touch like that.

It’s not enough.

He can still feel the hand on his arm as she walks away, heads out the double-doors and is gone.

Chris’s hand slides to the feather and he pushes the silicone plastic between his teeth, letting his tongue press up against the carved vanes, sinking into the familiar sensation, letting it wrap around him, calm his pulse, help him rebuild the thin wall he needs between himself and the world.

He stares blankly off into space, chewing the feather, unnoticed by the few other people in the Student Center this early in the morning. 

She probably feels so much better.

Like so many other people in his life, she made herself feel better by making Chris feel so much worse.

After a while, still chewing on the feather, he picks his pencil back up and starts to draw another moai.

He’s probably going to fail this test.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #trauma recovery #caledonia and her family #box boy #box boy universe #ableism tw #stimming #neurodivergent whumpee #recovering whumpee #gaslighting tw #bbu capitalism #honestly I suppose it kind of hits on that #trauma response #conditioning

[riversofmars]

Okay, so as everyone is going mental about this first preview, here is my contribution! Oneshot inspired by the picture, very dark, psychologically unstable Doctor. At least she has River there to talk to... or does she? Rated M for emotional distress and trigger warning for referenced suicide attempt. Thoroughly cheerful read all in all! Read on AO3 or keep going under the cut :)

How Many Second In Eternity?

The Doctor ran a second horizontal line through eight vertical ones, completing another count of ten on the floor of her prison cell. She had run out of space on the dark walls, so she had turned to the floor. Carefully she returned her piece of chalk to the trouser pocket of her red jumpsuit, she had only been given the one and it had taken a lot of begging, so she had to look after it. It had also become precious to her as it was the only thing she owned. Within minutes of her arrival at the prison they had taken everything from her. Her sonic screwdriver, her psychic paper, everything else she carried in the pockets of her long coat, the clothes themselves of course, along with her dignity.

She sat cross-legged in the floor, tapping a steady rhythm with her index finger. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. She tapped in perfect time with her heartbeat, which was the only thing she could hear apart from her breathing. The walls of the prison were thick, sometimes she thought she was the only one here, and outside the one window was nothing but the emptiness of space.  

“Must we do this again?“ A voice sounded behind the Doctor but she didn’t move, she didn’t even look up. That particular voice had long lost its startling qualities and element of surprise. There was a predictability to it by now.

“Apparently we do.“ The Doctor’s voice was weak and feeble, barely above a whisper.

“Why always me?“ River Song stepped out of the shadows and into the Doctor’s field of vision. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Who else would it be, River? You are always here to me. I can always see you.“ The Doctor spoke the words almost like a mantra without looking up at her. She was just going through the motions, it had become a sort of ritual.

“Why not my parents for a change? Or Donna? You miss Donna! Clara perhaps?“ River suggested looking around the cell, clearly annoyed. It was only them here.

“You know there is only you…“ The Doctor huffed and, looking at the new line she had drawn, she wiped a tear from her face. She was surprised that they still came every now and then. She would have thought she’d run out of tears. They didn’t announce themselves and sometimes she didn’t notice she’d been crying for hours.

“Because you still think my data ghost could actually be here and that would mean you’re not crazy.“ River concluded throwing her hands in the air, thoroughly exasperated. She shook her head and started circling around the blonde woman on the floor.

“Great, so let’s do the dance again but let’s try to save some time.“ River carried on and clapped her hands together.

“You will ask if I’m here and I will drop cryptic hints one way or another and you will avoid them - pretending like you didn’t hear - because really, you don’t want to figure it out.“ She laughed in a bitter sort of way.

“Because if I’m not really here, then I’m a figment of your imagination. That makes you certifiably crazy and that’s not a very nice thing to admit to yourself.“ She paused for a moment, waiting for her words to sink in but she didn’t get a response. So the carried on, even more annoyed: “Or I am some sort of data ghost and I am here. In which case my mind is still trapped in the Library and you never came to save me. Therefore, I’m a constant reminder of your failure.“ She came to a halt in front of her and crouched down leaning in.

“Am I close.“ She questioned, the Doctor didn’t answer and avoided her gaze. One-two-three-four, her fingers tapped one the cold floor. So River straightened up again and carried on wandering around the cell, getting more and more angry for her lack of response. “So we keep pretending like it could be either and you hope you’re not crazy but equally struggle to face your mistakes and regrets. And you’ve had so much time to think about this. About the times where you went wrong and the things that you didn’t do and now might never do. And somehow I’ve come top of that list.“ She laughed. “And that’s a pretty high bar, you have so many regrets, so many mistakes…“

“And I’m paying for them!“ The Doctor snapped, suddenly jumping to her feet, she took some threatening steps towards her and jabbed her finger at her.

“This is new.“ River realised, taken aback for a moment.

“I’m paying for my mistakes, River, when will it be enough?!“ The Doctor buried her face in her hands, letting out a sob. Her legs gave way, clearly not used to carrying her own weight anymore. River remained silent for a moment, just watching her curl over, shaking with sobs, all the while her fingers tapping the same four-time-beat. It had sped up. Just like the Doctor’s heartbeat upon her emotional outburst.

“What’s with the tally?“ River asked softly. It was a question she had never asked before. She looked around the cell, covered in chalk marks. “They’re not days, this is an astroid, there is no day or night, so what’s with the tally?“ River pushed on when the Doctor didn’t answer.

“They’re the people I’ve killed, River.“ The Doctor whispered at last.

“You’ve never killed anyone.“ River was quick to correct her. She had never intentionally harmed anyone.

“Not killed then.“ The Doctor breathed and gave a shrug. “The people who’s deaths I’m responsible for, does that sound better? People I didn’t save.“ She wiped her eyes and looked up at her. Her gaze was distant now, her voice devoid of emotion, as if all emotion had drained out of her along wth her tears. “Every time I remember another, I add them and think about what I should have done to save them.“ She traced an idle finger along the closest set of lines on the floor. “I never realised there were so many. This is what happens when you have time to think… You’re right, I have made so many mistakes, so many regrets…“

“Doctor, this isn’t right.“ River spoke firmly. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for not being able to save someone, you’re not a God, you can’t save everyone.“

“I’m holding myself responsible for not saving you. Every day.“ The Doctor’s voice was bitter, angry and regretful. It wasn’t so much the fact that she had allowed River to sacrifice herself all those years ago. It had been her choice and the Doctor had done what she could. She had saved her consciousness to the Library’s data base and without knowledge of who River was at the time. She didn’t blame herself for that. It was the fact that she had never gone back. After learning who River was, falling in love with her more and more after every encounter in their reverse timelines… even after Darillium when their story had come full circle, why had she never gone back and tried to save her? For fear for failure? For feeling too guilty? She liked to tell herself it was, because she hadn’t figured out how to save her yet. She hadn’t wanted to give her false hope or cause her pain by paying her visits before the day she could save her. None of the possible explanation took away from her self-loathing.

“You did the best you could.“ River spoke softly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this River, how many more lines will I have to draw?“ The Doctor sobbed, her emotions returning like a tidal wave, sweeping her away. Her distress turning into fear, into blind panic. “My brain just won’t stop!“ She buried her face in her hands, then ran them through her hair, pressing against her temples unable to remain still. “Thousands of years worth of memory… going at a frantic pace… It’s only when you’re here that I can even…“ One-two-three-four.

River crouched down next to her and took her hand, stilling her tapping fingers. For a moment, her touch felt real, comforting and warm and everything else disappeared. The Doctor’s racing thoughts ground to a halt, focusing on her wife’s hand on hers.

“It’s okay, I’m here.“ River reassured her with a smile.

“Of course you are…“ The Doctor said softly, firmly, as if it was the obvious, inevitable conclusion as her emotions ebbed away. She didn’t allow herself to doubt. River sat down next to her and put her arms around her. The Doctor leaned against her and closed her eyes. She could sense her there even if she didn’t feel her. There was no warmth radiating from her body, her didn’t hear her breathing or her heartbeats in the silence or smell the sweet perfume she missed so much. Whether she was a ghost or a part of her subconscious, either way she wasn’t real. Her brain was tricking her into feeling her touch and rationally, she knew that.

How much longer would they have to keep doing this, she wondered. What was a life sentence to an immortal? She had potentially infinite regenerations ahead of her. Whole of life in prison, in other words, eternity. And it wasn’t even like she could put a premature end to it. She had nothing but her piece of chalk…

There had been one time when she had tried - probably too early on - when she had still got cutlery with her meals… it had been messy and she didn’t do a good job of it, it wasn’t even serious enough to make her regenerate but there had been no cutlery since. She hadn’t had the strength of her convictions back then, it had been born out of anger and impulse. She would do a better job of it now but that option was gone. And even if she managed to injury herself seriously enough, she had no means of interrupting the regeneration process. Entertaining the idea, as tempting as it was at times, was pointless.

At the time, they hadn’t even bothered to bandage up her wrists, they had just taken the fork away. It had been River that had looked after her. That had been the first time she had appeared to her. And she had told her that she was a idiot to think she could cheat eternity like that.

“How many seconds in eternity, River?“ The Doctor whispered, barely audible.

“You know… there is this mountain of pure diamond…“ River retorted with a sad smile stroking her wife’s hair.

“I know.“ The Doctor sighed. “It takes an hour to climb it and an hour to go around it.“

“And every hundred years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak.“ River hummed.

“And when the entire mountain is chiselled away the first second of eternity will have passed.“ A tear ran down the Doctor’s face again as she felt her age in her bones. The millennia weighing her down. “And the fact that you’re quoting that back to me means you’re in my head and not really here.“ She should just accept that and be done with it.

“Or, I’m stuck in the greatest Library in the universe and where there is plenty of books on the Brothers Grimm.“ River countered.

“Hm.“ The Doctor huffed, taking her point.

“All I’m saying is: You’re one hell of a bird.“ River kissed the top of her wife’s head.

“Ha. That’s funny. Cause I’m a girl now. That’s funny.“ The Doctor laughed despite herself. She couldn’t believe she had actually just dropped a pun in the middle of her emotional breakdown. She kept laughing and it felt good, though her muscles barely remembered how to.

“All I’m saying is, don’t give up.“ River chuckled.

“There it is again!“ The Doctor exclaimed suddenly and stopped laughing. She leaned forward, listening.

“What my love?“ River frowned as her wife pulled away, barely paying attention to her now.

“The knocking…“ The Doctor jumped to her feet and rushed to the other side of the room, pressing herself to the wall to listen. She knelt down and knocked herself, almost as if answering. One-two-three-four.

“Can’t you hear it? There is always four knocks. Almost sounds like…“ She looked around and River was gone. One-two-three-four. The Doctor’s head whipped back around to the wall as she was sure she heard knocking again, more insistent, again and again, like the sound of drums. “It’s always here when you’re not…“ She mumbled and turned round to check again but River wasn’t there anymore. So she tapped her fingers, one-two-three-four.

#Doctor Who #fanfiction #oneshot #dark #river x thirteen #space wives #yowzah #river song #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #river data ghost #femslash #river x the doctor #Alex kingston #jodie whittaker #evolution of the daleks #angst #psychological trauma #mental instability #the sound of drums

[mamabearcatfanfics]

More Than Words Chapter Four

You can read it here on AO3, or continue below! My heartfelt thanks go to @britonell​ for her help with my faltering Japanese!

A sound had woken her, and for a moment she had no idea where she was, or what was going on. Then she heard it again, a shaking sound, like a box of cereal.

Kagome blinked herself awake. She could see Inuyasha standing a few feet away, lit by a shaft of early morning sunlight peeking through heavy curtains. His back was to her, and he was standing at what seemed to be a kitchen bench, pouring cat biscuits into a little bowl. She stared at him groggily as she tried to make sense of things, a headache pulsing away in the background making it difficult for her to think.

He was wearing the same t-shirt he had on yesterday, and a pair of soft grey boxer shorts, sitting low on his hips. She watched as he filled up another little bowl with water, then bent to place them both on a little mat on the floor. A tiny kitten sized ginger streak appeared out of nowhere, planting his tiny face directly into the little ceramic dish containing the cat biscuits. Shippou began eating his breakfast with gusto, making little sounds of appreciation as he chewed.

Inuyasha snorted as he watched the tiny kitten, his face still turned away from her. His long dark hair was in a low ponytail, but looked untidy, like he hadn’t had a chance to brush out the tangles yet. He’d obviously just woken up. Was this his place?

Then everything that had happened the night before came back with a rush. A man’s face shadowed by a hood, his voice guttural as he demanded money, the glint of street lights on a knife, a strong hand squeezing around her throat. Overwhelming fear. And then running here on pure adrenaline, that fear giving her feet wings. Inuyasha cradling her in his strong arms, caring for her, kissing her. She sat up unsteadily, and Inuyasha instantly moved to her side.

“Kagome.” His voice was quiet, and he sat down next to her on the bed, leaving a small amount of space between them. He looked pleased to see her awake, but also a little uncertain. “Good morning.”

She smiled at him shyly. “Good morning Inuyasha. Thank you for letting me stay last night.”

“How is…” he grunted in irritation, then began again. “Kagome, are you well?”

She nodded, then grimaced a little, the background headache that had been lingering suddenly pulsing as she moved her head. Inuyasha reached out towards her, his amber eyes filled with concern. She closed her eyes and let his hand take the weight of her aching head. His fingers passed gently over where the back of her head had smacked into the wall last night, his touch featherlight.

“I’m okay Inuyasha, just a little headache. I feel fine.”

He ignored her protest, moving his fingers down to her chin, pushing upwards gently until she bared her throat to him. He made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat.

“Stay”, he said, his eyes full of concern. She gave him a small smile, brushing her fingers over his and taking his hand and squeezing it.

“Inuyasha, as much as I’d like to, I really can’t. I need to go home and feed my cat. I definitely need to have a shower and get changed out of these sweaty jogging clothes - I probably smell bad.” She lifted the front of her t-shirt to her face, sniffing it and wrinkling her nose, “In fact I know I smell bad”, she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He shook his head, his expression stern. “Stay.”

She watched as Inuyasha walked over to his desk and retrieved his mobile phone to make a call, speaking at length in Japanese, his eyes constantly flicking over to her and then away again. She caught her name mentioned a few times, so he was obviously talking about her with whoever was on the other end of the line. Was he speaking to Sango? Her eyes widened in surprise when he suddenly thrust the phone at her, indicating she should talk.

“Uh, hello?” she said uncertainly, taking the phone from him.

“Good morning Kagome. Inuyasha tells me you had a very interesting evening last night, and that he’s worried about you.” The voice was warm and friendly, but it was definitely not Sango. It sounded like an older woman, a voice that she didn’t recognise at all.

“Um…” She looked at Inuyasha trying to show her confusion with her expression, but he just nodded and pointed at the phone.

“My name is Kaede. I’m Inuyasha’s landlady, but I was also a nurse until I retired a year ago. He wants you to tell me about your symptoms, so we can work out if he needs to take you to your doctor for a checkup this morning.”

“Oh, okay.” She rolled her eyes at Inuyasha and gave him a ‘really?’ expression, but he just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. Kagome huffed out a sigh – he obviously wasn’t going to budge on this, so she decided she may as well go along with it. “Well, I think I’m fine? I have a headache, but it’s not the worst one I’ve ever had.”

“Did you lose consciousness at any time during or after your injury? Any clear fluid or bleeding from your ears, or bruising behind your ears?”

“No?”

“What about your balance. Do you have any ringing in your ears? Can you walk around the room without feeling dizzy?”

Kagome stood up and walked over to the desk and back, Inuyasha hovering behind her like a mother hen.

“No dizziness, I feel fine.”

“No blurred vision, no weakness anywhere else, like in your arms or legs?”

“Nope?”

“Inuyasha says you have bruising and scratches on your throat. Any difficulty swallowing? Any pain when breathing?”

Kagome’s hand reached up to trace over her neck, and Inuyasha glowered.

“I haven’t seen the bruises myself, but I can swallow fine.”

“Well, based on your answers, I think you’re right - it sounds like you should be fine. And a headache is to be expected if you’ve taken a hard knock. But if it suddenly gets worse, or any of the other things I mentioned start happening, you should definitely go see a doctor. For today, I think all that’s needed is for you to relax and take it easy. Take some ibuprofen to help with the pain and swelling. Inuyasha can go get some for you.”

“Oh, but…”

“He’s also asked me to tell you that he wants you to stay at his flat until he finishes work this afternoon, and then he’ll walk you home. He’s a good man Kagome, very trustworthy despite his looks, and he seems to care a lot about you. Why not humour him, just for today, hmmm?” The voice was warm and soothing, very motherly, but also firm.

“I guess…”

“Good girl. Put Inuyasha back on for me.”

There was another conversation in Japanese, a little heated on Inuyasha’s side, and then he hung up the phone, grumbling to himself.

A loud rattling noise followed by screeching metal came from the shop downstairs, and Kagome jumped, a little startled. They heard Sango’s voice drifting up from below.

“Kon'nichiwa Inuyasha? Daijōbudesuka?”[1]

“Koko ni kite, Sango”[2], Inuyasha called out, and they heard her quick footsteps on the stairs.

“Hey”, she said poking her head around the door, then she saw Kagome. At first she grinned, raising her eyebrows at their rumpled appearence, and then her eyes widened as she took a closer look. She was by Kagome’s side in a moment, her eyes drawn to Kagome’s neck.

“What… oh my god Kagome, what happened to you?!”

Kagome shrugged. “I got mugged when I was out jogging last night. It happens.” Now that it was daylight, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, in fact she wanted to forget all about it.

They all heard a confused call of ‘hello, are you open?’ from downstairs. Inuyasha glanced down at his grey boxer shorts and wrinkled t-shirt and tugged on the hem of the shirt, as if that would get rid of the creases.

“Right”, said Sango in a business like manner. She pointed at Inuyasha “You – shower.” Inuyasha opened his mouth as if he was going to argue, then rolled his eyes and shrugged as Sango continued to point in the direction of the bathroom. She turned to Kagome as Inuyasha grabbed clean clothes from the chest of drawers next to his unmade bed. “Kagome, you -  sit. I’ll deal with the customers until Inuyasha is ready, and then we can talk about what happened later.”

“But I-“

“No buts. Sit down”, Sango said, with the air of someone who was used to having her instructions followed. She waited until Kagome sat down on the edge of the bed, then raced back down the stairs.

Kagome could just hear her talking to a customer over the sound of Inuyasha starting the shower. With a sigh, she slumped down on Inuyasha’s bed, closing her eyes against the thumping in her head. She placed her forearm over her eyes, trying to block out the daylight now filling the small room.

Last night, when she’d gone to sleep she’d been so happy, despite her terror prior to arriving at Inuyasha’s flat. He’d kissed her, said she had pretty eyes, asked her to stay. But since they’d woken up, he hadn’t said anything about the kiss, so she hadn’t said anything either. Now she was second guessing everything. What if he’d just felt sorry for her last night and she’d made assumptions about where this… connection… was headed? She sat up again when Inuyasha came out of the small bathroom with steam billowing out behind him, fully dressed in black jeans and a red t-shirt, his damp ponytail clinging to his neck.

“That must have been the shortest shower in history”, Kagome joked, offering him a small smile. She did her best to look cheerful, even though she felt anything but. Perhaps she should just go home, despite what Inuyasha had said. She was a big girl. She’d been taking care of herself for quite a while now. “You’d better get downstairs to work, everyone will be waiting for you.”

He sat down next to her on the bed and looked at her seriously. She blinked, unsure of what he was going to say. He huffed out a breath, reaching out to stroked her cheek, his eyes roving over her face.

“Kagome”, he said softly, “hataraku nakute ikenee, suman - hontoni zutto soba ni itaindaga...”[3] His thumb grazed over her lip, stroking the soft skin, and Kagome shivered. “Itaino no itaino kisu shite tondeke.”[4]

He leaned in, his palm cradling her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss soft, a gentle goodbye. She could taste toothpaste on his bottom lip, and without thinking she swept her tongue along the slightly chapped skin, licking at the corner of his mouth. He pulled back in surprise and then grinned at the mischevous look on her face, his light hazel eyes approving.

“Yancha koneko…”[5]

His kissed her again, firmer this time, his mouth slanting across hers and she couldn’t help the small moan of need in the back of her throat, her arms winding around his neck to bring him closer. All her doubts vanished, burned away by the heat of his kiss, his tongue teasing hers, encouraging her to kiss him back. Then his mouth left hers and she almost whimpered in dismay, until he began placing tiny lingering kisses down her neck where she assumed the bruises were. She shivered at the contact, her fingers winding into his dark hair.

“Inuyaashaa!”

The tone of Sango’s voice echoing up the stairs was loud and determined, giving the impression that perhaps it wasn’t the first time she’d called out. Inuyasha rested his forehead on Kagome’s shoulder, slumping his shoulders and sighing.

“Fuck.”

Kagome kissed the top of his head with a disappointed sigh of her own.

“Yes please.”

She giggled a little as his head snapped up in surprise. He blinked at her, his expression unsure, and she realised he’d heard what she’d said but was worried he might have misunderstood, so she winked at him, her gaze teasing. He chuckled.

“Bad girl”, he said huskily, rubbing his nose against hers.

“Sukebe Inu”[6], she crooned back, and he laughed out loud, kissing the tip of her nose. She pushed him on his shoulder, grinning.

“Go on, go, before Sango akido’s your ass.”

He got up with a sigh, and moved to the chest of drawers next to his bed, getting her a pair of his gym shorts with a drawstring waist and a clean t-shirt. He grabbed a clean towel from a cupboard near the bathroom, and placed them all on the bed next to her.

“Shower. Rest.” he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, then sprinted down the stairs, taking them a couple at a time as Sango’s voice echoed petulantly up the stairs again.

After that, Kagome couldn’t stop smiling. She made Inuyasha’s bed, then moved into the bathroom, more than ready to get out of her crumpled running gear and get clean.

Her reflection in the mirror of the small bathroom cabinet made her pause for a moment. The dark fingerprint sized bruises were clear on her neck, along with the scratches of her attackers fingernails and probably her own where she’d tried to pull his hands away. There were a few bloodstains around the collar of her t-shirt that she probably wouldn’t be able to get out. But then she took a deep breath, nodding at her reflection. She was okay. That was last night, and now she was safe. Today was a whole new day.

Kagome stripped off, welcoming the heat of the shower, washing her body and her hair using Inuyasha’s bath products, and immediately feeling all the better for it. She put a small amount of toothpaste on her finger and rubbed over her teeth; not quite a brush, but better than nothing. After she’d towelled off, braiding her damp hair and dressing herself in Inuyasha’s shorts and t-shirt, she snorted at her reflection in the fogged up mirror. She looked ridiculous; both the shorts and t-shirt came down to almost cover her knees.

Seeing a bottle of laundry detergent sitting on the bathroom floor next to the vanity, she decided Inuyasha probably wouldn’t mind if she borrowed a small amount to wash her underwear. She washed and rinsed her bra and panties in the bathroom sink, squeezing out as much water as she could by hand then draped them over the shower rail, hoping that they would be mostly dry by the time she had to venture outside again.

Even though the shower had helped, her head was still thumping. She decided she would lay down again for a little while. She could hear voices downstairs, the hiss of the coffee machine, the regular beeping of the eftpos machine and till, the occasional jingle of coins. Inuyasha and Sango were probably dealing with the morning rush, so just closing her eyes for a few moments while they were busy would be okay.

When she woke again, there was a glass of water sitting next to the bed on the chest of drawers, along with a box of ibuprofen, and a toasted cheese and ham croissant. After taking a couple of tablets and eating, she lay down again, waiting for the medication to begin working. She’d go downstairs soon and thank whoever had got the food for her. Her eyes closed all by themselves.

The sound of laptop keys clacking woke her. Inuyasha was sitting at his desk, and the sunlight in the room had the deep glow of afternoon. Kagome sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Crap, I’m sorry Inuyasha. What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

Inuyasha turned sideways in his chair. He smiled at her, seemingly not worried that she’d spent all day sleeping in his flat while he worked. “Afternoon. Shop is closed.” He glanced at his computer screen. “4.48pm.”

“Eeep! Buyo is going to be so upset with me!” Kagome got up quickly and went into the bathroom, splashing her face with cold water. Her bra and panties were still a little damp, but she decided she’d rather wear them than go outside without them and got changed into them quickly, putting Inuyasha’s clothes back on over the top.

“Who is Buyo?” asked Inuyasha as she emerged from the bathroom in a rush, clutching her dirty clothes and rummaging in the pocket of her leggings for her keys.

“My cat”, she said in a distracted voice, “he doesn’t like being hungry. And if he’s upset he tends to pee on the carpet.” She looked around for her shoes, then spotted them lined up at the end of Inuyasha’s bed. She sat down, pulling the shoes onto her feet without socks. “I should be fine to walk home by myself Inuyasha, I’m feeling much better.”

He shook his head, sliding his own feet into his shoes where they were sitting under his desk. “I am coming.” He snagged her hand as she stood and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, and she squeaked in surprise.

“Missed you, yancha koneko.” She giggled as he tucked his nose into her neck, blowing a small raspberry on the soft skin there.

“I’m sorry I slept all day Inuyasha”, she said softly.

He shook his head. “Good for you.”

She smiled. “I guess it was, my headache is gone now. But we really need to go.”

They walked slowly back to her apartment, moving aside to allow Saturday afternoon shoppers and harassed looking people with places to go to pass them by. Kagome reached out casually, taking his hand and entwining their fingers. She watched shyly as Inuyasha glanced down at their hands, and then looked around them to see if anyone was paying attention, then back to her. He grinned at her widely, squeezing her fingers with his. He didn’t relinquish her hand until they were standing outside the door to her apartment.

“What are you doing tomorrow Inuyasha?” she asked. She really wanted to see him again, but if he was busy…

He made a disgusted face. “Koinrandorī.[7]” She blinked at him. He tried again, slowing the word down. “Koin randori”, and pointed at her dirty clothes. “Wash.” Her face cleared.

“Laundromat! You need to wash your clothes?” He nodded, glad she’d understood.

She tugged on his sleeve excitedly. “Don’t waste your money on that – come here! You can use my washing machine! I’ll make breakfast!”

Kagome squealed as he suddenly picked her up off the ground and hugged her tightly.

“Kagome! Thank you!”

She giggled at the look on his face. “So you really don’t like the laundromat huh?”

He shook his head emphatically. “Do not like…” he tried the word she’d used, knowing he’d have trouble with that first sound, but uncaring, because it was Kagome, “randoromat.”

“Okay, it’s a date then!” she smiled.

“I will bring coffee”, he said carefully, and she smiled even wider. They were interupted by the sound of frantic scratching on the door behind them, interspersed with plaintive mewing sounds. Kagome groaned.

“I have to-“, she pointed at the door behind her.

He nodded and leaned in for a quick kiss, and then another, and then one final lingering press of his lips. “Good night Kagome” he smiled. “See you.”

“See you tomorrow”, she agreed. “8am.” She watched as he jogged down the stairs, then turned to open her door. Buyo rubbed himself frantically against her legs as she stepped inside, closing her front door behind her. She picked him up, rubbing her cheek against his, and walked straight into the kitchen where his food was kept.

“Sorry I’m late baby”, she crooned apologetically, smiling at the deep vibrating purr. “Mama had an interesting day.”

☕💖☕

Inuyasha looked with a puzzled expression at Kagome’s washing machine. It was a lot more complex than the one he’d used previously at the laundromat – those just required coins and a push of a button to begin washing. Start was easy, because he recognised the icon for pause/play, but there were all these other buttons. He poked at one hesitantly, and grimaced when it made a blooping noise. “Kagome?”

“What is it Inu?” she called back from the kitchen, raising her voice over the sizzling sound of cooking. She’d been busy making breakfast when he arrived, and he’d decided to get his washing out of the way quickly so he could go watch her. She obviously loved to cook; he could hear her humming songs under her breath as she cooked whatever was on the stove.

“Kagome”, he called, “how… uh… feh”, he grunted, putting down the washing detergent and just going to the kitchen himself.

She was busy flipping pancakes, all her attention on the frypan. He couldn’t help but grin at the way she was dancing on the spot, that cute rounded peach of hers just out of sight in her shortie pyjamas, swaying in time with whatever she was singing. He was seriously hoping this Sunday arrangement would become a regular thing, especially if it meant he caught her wearing outfits like this. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Is everything okay?” she giggled, rubbing her cheek against his affectionately. “Do you need to borrow some of my detergent? I have plenty.”

“No, I buy detergent. Button?” he asked, hoping she would understand.

“Oh, sure.” Kagome lifted the pancake pan away from the heat and switched off the gas so the batter wouldn’t burn while she helped him with his predicament. He followed close behind her as she walked to the desk in her bedroom first, grabbing a pen and a post-it-note from the drawer, then out onto the balcony where the tiny laundry room was. He watched as she drew pictures of the buttons and then numbered them in kanji, so he would know what order to press them.

“Very good”, he praised, rubbing her shoulder.

She grinned at him. “Thank you. I only know up to five off by heart; I have to look at the others.

“Sorry”, he said, gesturing towards the buttons on the washing machine.

“No worries, it’s fine”, she smiled. “If we were in Tokyo and I was looking at a Japanese washing machine, I’m sure I’d need to ask for help too. Was yours back home a lot different from this one?”

He shook his head. “No machine.”

“Oh, did you use the laundromat there too?”

“Sometimes. Not many.” He sighed, and looked at her, his mouth straightened in an expression of frustration. He shrugged.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll get there.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. “How about you do your washing and I’ll finish making breakfast, and then we’ll go for a walk. I’ll teach you some English words and you can teach me some Japanese words.”

He hugged her back, dropping a small kiss to the top of her head, then released her with a smile. “Okay.”

When he’d finished loading the washing machine and set it to a warm wash cycle, the sound of running water indicating his success, he walked back into the kitchen to see Kagome flipping the last pancake.

“It’s such a nice morning! Should we sit out on the balcony to eat?” she said, pointing towards the small table and chairs.

He nodded, grabbing the plates, cups, knifes and forks she’d set out already, along with the thermos of black coffee he’d brought with him, and took them out to the tiny table on Kagome’s balcony. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat down to wait for her.

There wasn’t a great view from her balcony, mostly other apartment blocks and a busy side street, but if you stood on a chair and leaned way out you could see the big clock tower at Central station. He grinned, remembering Kagome’s shrieks of dismay when he’d done that when she gave him the tour earlier.

Her place was nice. A bedroom with a walk in closet, bathroom, a lounge room which led onto a small balcony with a laundry room, and a kitchen with a little eating area. He sat sipping his coffee, watching the traffic and listening to the more muted sounds of a Sunday in the city.

Buyo wound his way around Inuyasha’s legs, purring loudly. They had made friends quickly when he’d arrived, and he already liked the fluffy calico cat. He reminded him a little of Japanese cats he’d seen on the street in Osaka, with short stumpy legs, and black and tan markings colouring his cream body.

“Hullo Buyo”, he said, reaching down to scratch the calico behind his furry ears. As soon as he sat back up, Buyo jumped up on to his lap. “Hey fat cat.”

Kagome laughed as she walked through the open glass sliding door, carrying the stack of pancakes and the maple syrup.

“What did you just call my cat?”

He grinned at her, lifting Buyo up under his front legs to reveal the cream coloured fur on his rounded stomach. Buyo purred even louder.

“Shippou is a little shit. Buyo is a fat cat. Better.”

Kagome sniggered, sitting down at the table. “Better? Because he’s a healthier weight or because he doesn’t bite you.”

“Both.”

He poured Kagome’s coffee, then watched hungrily as she moved a stack of pancakes onto his plate. He poured a steady stream of syrup over his pancakes and dug in eagerly.

“Mmm, s’good Kagome!”

“Yokatta – wait, is that right?” She sighed, sitting down to begin her own breakfast. “So many different ways to say ‘you’re welcome’ in Japanese.” She giggled as he gave her an emphatic thumbs up, his mouth too full to answer with words. He swallowed.

“Is correct. Yokatta means”, he scrunched up one eye, while thinking for the English words he wanted, “you are happy for me to like it.”

“Did you eat pancakes for breakfast in Japan, or is that not a thing there?” asked Kagome, still smiling at him.

A sudden memory of the sparse breakfasts of his childhood came to mind. And afterwards, he was usually too hung over or injured from his fights the night before to eat. He shook the memories away, not wanting to spoil the happy sunny atmosphere at the table. Kagome put down her knife and fork, a worried expression on her face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

Inuyasha sighed, not noticing how hard his fists gripped his own knife and fork. “Kagome… I want to forget Japan. I want to be here. I want to live here. A new home, not-” he stopped as she reached out to touch his hand, stroking her fingers gently over his knuckles until his tight grip relaxed.

“Was it really bad, the life you left behind in Japan?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then”, she smiled. “I’ll stop asking questions. I understand wanting to leave the past behind and try something new to get away from painful memories. It’s one of the reasons I moved to this city too.” He put down his fork to squeeze her fingers gently.

“Thank you, Kagome.”

They resumed their breakfast, Kagome looking thoughtfully out past the buildings surrounding them, into the intense blue sky and bright sunshine. Then she smiled at him, a full beaming grin that crinkled up her eyes, and his heart thudded. She was so beautiful when she smiled at him like that. Not just her appearance, but the pure emotion behind the smile, aimed right at him.

“I’ve got an idea!” she squealed excitedly. “We’ll finish tidying up and hang your washing on the drying rack, and then I’m going to take you to a fun place. I’m gonna help you make some amazing memories Inuyasha!”

He leaned across the table, his hands leaning either side of her plate, and kissed her, joyful teasing kisses. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t have the words to tell her how happy she made him, but he knew this would get the idea across. She giggled as he licked at a stray spot of syrup on the corner of her mouth.

The pedestal table rocked a little with his uneven weight, and Kagome squealed, her hands moving to the edges to hold it steady. He sat down again, laughing at her.

“Behave!”

“Why?” he said, laughing again at the sudden blush turning her cheeks rosy.  

She made a grumbling noise, then sat sipping her coffee, looking out at the sunlight bouncing off the windows of the other high rise apartments surrounding them. He grinned as he finished his own pancake. They would make today a good day, together.

Translation Notes:        

[1] “Hello, Inuyasha? Are you okay? [2] “Come up here Sango.” [3] “I’m sorry I have to work Kagome - I really want to stay with you…” [4] “Pain, pain, fly away with a kiss” (the Japanese version of ‘kiss it better’) [5] “Naughty kitten…” [6] Sukebe means lewd, but in this context you could perhaps say ‘dirty dog’ [7] An english loanword – literally ‘coin laundry’

#More Than Words #mamabearcat fanfics #inukag fanfic #inukag coffee shop au #coffee shop au

[blushingbaka]

bedside crush;

|| summary - midoriya’s time at hogwarts is filled with reckless decisions, but it’s those decisions that have led him straight to you

pairing: midoriya x infirmary jkjk, midoriya x reader genre: fluffy hogwarts au length: 2.5k

✰ a/n: oooo can you tell i’m high in my hp feels? i was rereading the books recently, and i just couldn’t help but compare harry and midoriya with their frequent visits to the infirmary. and we’re going to pretend like students wanting to be healers can shadow madam pomfrey so pls go with it!  the reader’s house isn’t specified, so it can be whatever you want it to be! hope you enjoy it <3

“I would stay in that bed if I were you,” your words freeze Midoriya on the spot. He teeters on the edge of his cot, staring at you with wide eyes, and his right foot peeks out from the edge of his blanket, dangling an inch above the ground. He must have thought you were too distracted by restocking Madam Pomfrey’s medicinal herbs to notice he was awake, but unbeknown to him, it was his presence that had been distracting you all afternoon. You couldn’t help but notice his slow movements out of the corner of your eye as he regained consciousness. You now muster up the courage to turn towards him and pointedly stare at him as if daring him to let his foot touch the floor. He adverts his eyes from yours, a noticeable redness creeping onto his freckled cheeks. He brings a hand up to ruffle his already disheveled hair, and he lets out a small awkward chuckle as he brings his foot back onto the bed. “You must like being scolded by Madam Pomfrey” you close the distance between you, indulging the urge you feel to smile. Somehow any interaction you had with the sixth year Gryffindor seeker elicits a feeling similar to downing a butterbeer on a wintry day in Hogsmeade. The warmness spreads in the pit of your stomach, licking away at any chilling dread that lies there. Hearing the light teasing in your tone, Midoriya glances back up, shoulders visibly relaxing. 

“It’s not really anything new” he comments a sheepish grin on his face. Suddenly it’s as if he remembers the reason why he’s in the Hogwarts infirmary, and a gasp escapes his lips, eyes snapping to yours very intently.   

“Gryffindor won the match right?!” his fingers that were only seconds ago twisting nervously in his lap, now grip onto the material of his blanket tightly, and you can only blink a couple of times trying to process his rapid change in demeanor. “Well-“ you attempt to find your words. “I mean Gryffindor had to win. I definitely felt the snitch in my hand before the bludger hit me in the back of the head. And there was definitely some cheers as well, like spectators knew I had caught it too.” Midoriya continues mumbling about everything he can recount in the few seconds before he was knocked unconscious, and you almost forget that you never actually gave him an answer. No longer under such direct attention from those charming green eyes, you find your voice. “Izuku” from experience you say the one thing that will force him out of his thoughts. You started shadowing Madam Pomfrey in your fifth year, and the amount of interaction you’ve had with Midoriya within these four walls since then was quite numerous. Just as you expected, the mention of his first name visibly shakes him, his body becoming taut like a wire. His fingers become lost in his green locks once again as he mutters an apology, but you wave his words away. “Gryffindor won, so you can relax.” his shoulders fall, tension visibly leaving his body, and a content smile flickers across his face. “Although that was a drawn-out game that you had with Slytherin.” You continue recalling how engrossed everyone was with the movement of the players, the two teams seemingly neck and neck for the entirety of the match. It really was down to whoever caught the snitch first. “I’m sure you were so focused on finally catching the snitch and ending the game you didn’t even see that bludger coming for you” you sighed, your heart squeezing remembering the panic it felt when Midoriya’s body went plummeting towards the ground. Your body had felt incredibly frigid, like you had been doused in ice water. It wasn’t until Professor McGonagall had taken his body out of your line of sight that your body reacted, legs instantly carrying you to the hospital wing. You knew magic was capable of healing the gravest of injuries, but you knew the tightness in your chest wouldn’t disappear until you saw him conscious and smiling again. “Well honestly I thought it was going to hit me in my back” Midoriya murmured pulling you from your thoughts. It took you a moment to process that his words meant that he actually saw the bludger and actually knew it was going to him. “Midoriya!” You screeched forgetting your current environment. Your shrill voice echoed off the walls of the infirmary, but thankfully you two were the only ones occupying the room. “If you saw the bludger you should have moved out of the way!” You could feel the sting of your nails digging into your palms, an attempt suppress your sudden flare of anger. Despite this restraint, Midoriya still winced at your words, face slightly scrunching up in a cute way that might have made your heart flutter under different circumstances. “If I had dodged it though, I would have lost the snitch,” despite the softness of his tone, you hear an undeniable amount of firmness in his words. The same kind of firmness you can see glaze over his eyes on the quidditch field or when he focuses on mastering a spell. “and everyone was relying on me” his voice wavers at the end of his statement, and your focus is drawn to the way he again tightly grasps the bedsheet in his hands. This isn’t the first time you’ve noticed how rough and calloused Midoriya’s hands are, but the sight of them now stirs something in your heart. Those hands had endured several breaks and fractures, but it never seemed to faze Midoriya as much as the fear of disappointing someone. That much was clear in the vulnerable expression he wore now. You were never close friends with Midoriya, but everyone knew how hard he worked to excel both in his classes and on the quidditch field. He had a sort of rivalry going with another muggle-born Gryffindor, Bakugou Katsuki, who unlike Midoriya, was a natural in about everything. They seemed to have a more amicable relationship now, but it was obvious neither of them were content with anything less than perfection. You couldn’t imagine the immense pressure he put on himself as the seeker when the fate of the game often literally lied in his hands. With a certain fondness in your heart for him that somehow bloomed into a crush, you couldn’t bring yourself to further scold him. You still thought his actions were reckless, and it was hard to bury that image that was a tangled blur of green hair and scarlet robes racing towards the ground, but you also just wanted to see him smile. So you temporarily subdued your own emotions and focused on the boy in front of you. “Well how about next time you do something like the sloth grip roll, so you can dodge the bludger and still get the snitch” you don’t know what’s more embarrassing, the amount of effort you’re putting into your current bright smile or the fact that you’ve studied quidditch moves for your short conversations with Midoriya. Either way, you decide it’s worth it when the stars return to his eyes and he looks back up to you in amazement. “You’re exactly right! I’ve practiced those before, and it can be hard to keep your broom steady  when swinging your body upside down like that, but perhaps with enough control, I could still maintain my same angle and speed…” he goes into one of his rants again and you chuckle when he instinctively pats the bed looking for his notebook that you know he writes these types of thoughts in. “Here you can use a page out of this” you reach into your apron to pull out the notebook you use to record notes about healing magic. Chewing on his lip, he seems reluctant to accept your offer, but the urge to write down his thoughts must be too overwhelming. He stammers a thank you, and your stomach flips when his hand brushes yours in the act of taking it. You swear you’re no better than those lovestruck first and second years that trail Midoriya with sparkling eyes and giddy smiles. You try to ignore the surplus of Midoriya’s admirers, but the small pile of treats and get-well cards by his bedside makes it impossible to forget. They started flooding in almost as soon as he arrived, and you had been a bit too eager to inform them they couldn’t deliver it in person. You knew it was that damn warm smile of his that he gave out too sparingly. His genuine interactions with people often left them dazed, and those same people found themselves seeking him out as a source of comfort. You knew perhaps better than anyone how his warm aura made your heart feel lighter and smiles come easier. He had this effect on practically everyone, so you knew your feelings were nothing special. You should actually hate the fact that his reckless decisions lead to the interactions with him that you crave so desperately. You knew you would have to accept this unrequited crush, but you still allowed yourself to relish in the broad smile he gave you when returning your notebook. You wanted to linger by his side longer, but you knew that you actually belonged in the library doing homework. You didn’t even have a shift scheduled for today, but you insisted on doing busy work, so you could watch over Midoriya.   “I have to get going, but Madam Pomfrey should be back soon. You’ve been acting fine, so I’m sure she’ll discharge you soon” you assure him knowing that he tends to become antsy when he’s confined to the infirmary like this. “Help yourself to any of the sweets there,” you gesture to his bedside table. “they’re all yours anyways.” You have hardly walked five steps before Midoriya’s voice calls out to you. “Wait Y/N-” the urgent tone in his voice causes you to immediately spin back around, eyes wide. Your reaction must make him realize how frantic he sounded, and he profusely apologizes, bowing his head dramatically. With a small smile, you wait for him to say what he wanted to only a few moments prior. He finally seems to muster up his courage again, holding something out to you. “I just wanted to give you this pumpkin pasty. I’ll never eat all of these sweets, and I know they’re your favorite” he gives you a lopsided grin, and your heart hammers in your chest from his seemingly small action. “How did you know that?” You gently prod taking the treat from him. “Uh… I guess I’ve heard you say it before. We have had quite a lot of conversations here in the past year” he chuckles nervously, gaze dropping to his lap. “Yeah, but that’s not a good thing” you hate how your words cause his face to fall. “I mean, not that I don’t like talking to you-“ now you’re the one stumbling over your words trying to rectify your mistake. “I just don’t like seeing you injured, but talking to you when you’re whole and happy, that’s nice.” Oh my god. You wish you could cast incendio on yourself right now. You are positive that your flustered state is not anywhere near as endearing as Midoriya’s, so barely giving him a chance to react, you say something about being late for a group study session, and speed out of the infirmary, avoiding the gaze of his innocently wide eyes.  — Five days have passed since that interaction with Midoriya, and despite the awkward farewell you ended things with, you can’t help but replay the whole instance in your head. It seemed like a pivotal moment in your relationship with Midoriya, but much to your frustration, nothing had changed. Anytime you thought about that pumpkin pasty lying untouched in your nightstand drawer, you couldn’t quell your insatiable yearning for more. You wanted more than to just to exchange small smiles and waves as you encountered Midoriya in the corridors.  Even now as you complete your shift in the infirmary, thoughts of Midoriya plague your mind, and you know you’ve absorbed nothing from what Madam Pomfrey has taught you today. As you leave the hospital wing, making a mental to-do list for the rest of the evening, the sound of rushed footsteps stops you. It sounds like someone is running towards you, and you’re astounded when it’s Midoriya that rounds the corner. Seeing you, he stops abruptly, hair momentarily flipping up to reveal his forehead. He’s breathing heavily, but you’re sure you hear a greeting intermingled somewhere between his pants. “Are you okay? Honestly don’t tell me you have another injury just from quidditch practice” you know that’s where he came from judging by his robes and broom in his hand. “Y/N!” He exclaims brightly finally having caught his breath. “I’m so glad I didn’t miss you. I’m not hurt” he quickly adds realizing you’re still gazing at him with concern. “You wanted to see me?” The surprise is heavy in your tone. “Well yeah…” it’s as if his nervousness has caught up with him. His familiar tells appear as he averts his eyes and slowly spins his broom in his hands. “I practiced more with the sloth grip roll today, and I wanted to thank you for the idea again” he slowly continued. “Oh? Well, it wasn’t an original idea or anything” you shift your weight, hating how awkward you feel in front of him right now. “You know I realized after talking to you the other day that we do have a lot of conversations in the infirmary, and even though you don’t like seeing me injured, I do quite like seeing you” your eyes snap to his, convinced you’ve misheard him. “Not that I’d ever purposefully injure myself to see you” he quickly adds. “I’m just trying to say that I’d like to spend more time with you outside the infirmary” he finally forces out. His sweetly intense eyes do lock with yours now as he awaits your reply, and you repetitively open and close your mouth trying to formulate words. “I’d… I would definitely like that” you successfully stammer, face feeling incredibly hot and heart hammering in your chest from the small admission of your feelings. Midoriya’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open like he is taken aback by your words. “Really?!” his face cracks into an excited grin, and you can’t help but exhale a soft laugh. “Really” you confirm. “This is perfect! There’s a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend, so maybe you’d like to go together?” He asks expression hopeful. “It’s a date” you bravely state, selfishly hoping this was more than a closer friendship Midoriya was pining for. He gives you just the reaction that you were hoping for. His face turns impossibly redder, and his hand finds its way to his hair. A part of you hopes that you’ll soon know the feeling of running your fingers through those soft tresses. “That’s what I was hoping for” he shyly admits, and you feel like you’ve just downed a whole pitcher of butterbeer.    

#midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #bnha hogwarts au #midoriya fluff #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #izuku x reader #bnha

[kingreywrites]

What obstacles fate may bring

Fandom: Tangled

Words count: 3326

New Dream Appreciation Week Day Five: Proposal

Summary: "I can't believe it," Rapunzel groaned, taking his hand to press it against her face, probably to feel the coolness of his ring against her skin. "I can't believe- this must be a curse. We're cursed, Eugene, cursed to never have a normal engagement."

"We're not cursed," he chuckled, ignoring her glare. "The doctor said it might not be permanent."

Read on ao3

@our-newdream

Eugene knocked softly on the door of Rapunzel's bedroom, more to warn her that he was coming than anything else. Actually, it was their bedroom now, he remembered with a goofy smiled, that immediately abated at the sight he was met with. The bedroom was completely dark which, these last days, wasn't unusual - with her headaches, Rapunzel was uncomfortable if it was too brightly lit. Considering her previous relationship with the sun, it was quite ironic, but she was too miserable and she missed seeing the sky too much for Eugene to even joke about it. No, what was unusual today was the fact that Rapunzel was not only laying on her bed, but was actively trying to choke herself with a pillow while Pascal squeaked comfortingly next to her ear.

"You okay Sunshine?" Eugene asked softly, knowing that loud sounds could also hurt her.

She moaned something unintelligible under her pillow and he frowned, unsure if she was sad or actually hurting. He went to sit next to her quickly, his hand going to her shoulder.

"Does your head hurt?" He might have sounded a tiny bit more panicked than he originally wanted, but who could blame him? Some days ago, his fiancee had hurt her head so bad that she hadn't woken up for twenty-four horrible hours. Rapunzel must have heard the genuine worry in his voice because she moved the pillow down, just enough for her forlorn eyes to appear.

"It's not that," she finally mumbled, "my head doesn't hurt that much anymore."

Eugene smiled but kept in a corner of his head the fact that it still hurt, even if it was a little bit. He wasn't taking any risks with that - he'd have to ask the physician about it. Said physician might end up asking for a restraining order in return, since Eugene might have harassed him a little the last four days but, joke's on him, Eugene was also the guy that managed restraining orders - plus, it was about the Princess' health, so he was right to go overboard.

Rapunzel stayed silent but, even in the darkness, Eugene could still feel the sadness she exuded. He glanced at Pascal but the frog was apparently as lost as he was, so he'd have to wait for Rapunzel to actually say it.

Or he could ask. He wasn't a patient man when it came to the health of the love of his life.

"Rapunzel, what's wrong?"

She sighed, pressing harder against the pillow as she lowered her eyes. "I'm cursed."

"Cursed? Sunshine, we talked-"

"No, I know, it's not a real curse, it's just… It feels like a curse," she bit out. Blindly, her hand seeked his and he was happy to help her find it, until she yanked it in front of her face without a warning. His yelp didn't faze her at all; she was too busy staring at his engagement ring.

Ah. Eugene understood, suddenly, what was the problem.

To be precise, it all started two weeks ago, on Rapunzel's birthday. It had been one of the best day of Eugene's life because he had proposed to the love of his life, and she had said yes, and honestly his heart still hadn't recovered from the sheer emotion he had felt that day. They had spent… an interesting night, to say the least, and Eugene discovered next morning that waking up in the same bed as Rapunzel was one of the greatest gift in life.

So, all in all, it sounded perfect. And it was perfect, really - they went to announce it to her parents, who were ecstatic and, together, they agreed to wait a little before telling the whole kingdom about it. At first, it had been Rapunzel who asked, because she wanted Cassandra to hear it from her first, and, for them to be sure that it was the case, they had to wait until they received the dragon lady's answer. Eugene hadn't minded at all, really, he was even quite glad for the relative privacy - and he took the opportunity to write to his father, so he'd be the first to tell him too.

So, how did it all go wrong? Well, considering that the Coronans didn't know about the engagement, they had started getting down the decorations they had put up for Rapunzel's birthday. Feeling a little bad that it would be tidied up only for them to send everyone into a frenzy again with their engagement, Eugene and Rapunzel decided to help clean up the decorations. Between chatting with citizens and going where they were needed, they had gotten a little separated during the day, which wasn't that unusual.

What had been unusual were the screams.

Immediately alert, Eugene had run toward the noise, not letting himself panic even when cries about the Princess had reached his ears. He hadn't asked to be let through but had been anyway, and then, the only thing he had managed to see was Rapunzel's prone form, and the blood coming from her head. The rest was a blur, honestly - he remembered going to her, remembered whistling for Max, remembered giving orders to panicked citizens with a calm his heart certainly didn't feel, and remembered rushing toward the castle… But it was all disjointed and out of focus, his memories tainted by his terror. He remembered the next twenty-four hours, remembered how scared he had been, how tightly he had held her hand, how long he had trembled with nervousness and exhaustion.

Honestly, he didn't care about much else than her well-being after that. He knew that she didn't share his opinion on the matter, but he wouldn't budge on it - she was alright, and the rest could be fixed easily enough.

"I can't believe it," Rapunzel groaned, taking his hand to press it against her face, probably to feel the coolness of his ring against her skin. "I can't believe- this must be a curse. We're cursed, Eugene, cursed to never have a normal engagement."

"We're not cursed," he chuckled, ignoring her glare. "The doctor said it might not be permanent."

"Might," she grumbled, "I still can't believe it. I can't believe I forgot our engagement."

"You had a serious head injury that resulted in a case of retrograde amnesia that made you forget the last three weeks," Eugene recited dutifully, in the exact same tone as Rapunzel's physician. "It's not your fault," he added, "and I'm very happy that it was the worse thing that came out of this. You scared me, you know."

Maybe his voice was hoarser than he had intended - maybe he was more vulnerable than he wished to be, but it was true. He had been scared, terrified that this was the end of their journey together and for what? A little fall? Rapunzel couldn't have survived their crazy adventures for her to… to… die like this. He remembered how happy he had been when she finally woke up, confused and bleary-eyes but thankfully okay - and, at this moment, every carefully constructed rants about climbing building without protection dissolved on his tongue, not important anymore. Nothing was more important than her, and if the engagement had been one of the greatest day of his life, Rapunzel was his life, easy as that.

"It seemed so beautiful," Rapunzel whispered wistfully, still holding his hand absentely while his other one was busy making circles on her shoulder. "I've seen it drawn in my journal-"

"How did you-"

"-that my mom brought to me because I'm under strict orders to not get out of bed," she answered without missing a beat. "Past me wrote detailed annotations, and drew it from multiple angles, and I- I just-"

"Hey," Eugene whispered, stroking her face as he snuggled next to her. "If you want, we can take our rings off and redo the whole proposal all over again once you're on your feet. Sure, it won't be your birthday, but you know Coronans - they'll be happy to have a second lantern ceremony! The cupcake won't be a surprise anymore, but-"

"That's not the same though," Rapunzel mumbled, closing her eyes. She looked exhausted, and probably was since she was still recovering from her concussion. "If I could just remember it, then…"

"Rapunzel," he said tenderly, kissing her cheek quickly in the hope to cheer her up. "if you want, I can propose to you a million times in a million of different ways. What's the most important to me is that you're fine because that's the only thing needed for us to make new memories. I want to make new memories with you all my life," he insisted, pushing a strand of her hair from her face, meeting her shining eyes.

She exhaled shakily, both emotional and in pain. "You're right, I'm sorry..."

"I- no, Sunshine, you have every right to be upset," Eugene rectified softly, seeing that she was getting too tired for the conversation - but it was important she understood. "You lost an important memory, anyone would feel bad about it. I would whine myself into oblivion in your situation," he smiled, drawing a laugh from her, "and you'd be the one to tell me that my health was the most important thing."

Rapunzel hummed, closing her eyes again, for longer this time. She would probably fall back asleep soon - and, as much as she missed going outside, rest was an important part of her recovery.

"As long as we're both okay, we can fix this," was the last thing she mumbled, before she fell asleep. She barely felt Eugene kiss her forehead as he fixed her blanket, leaving her with Pascal as her devoted guard, while he went to harass the physician some more.

-----

"Rapunzel?" Eugene called, pushing open the door of their bedroom, who was back to being sunny and brightly lit - once the sun stopped giving her headaches, it seemed that Rapunzel decided the window needed to be wide open all the time. However, right now, it was closed, and Rapunzel wasn't here.

Sighing, he went to sit on the windowsill, knowing that she would come at some point - until he saw a little note taped to the pane. It was undoubtedly Rapunzel's writing, punctuated with little hearts and a doodle of them kissing. (Eugene never managed to get rid of the notes. He loved them too much, and he had boxes full of them because Rapunzel wrote hundred of them that she always always personalised. Yes, he also re-read the notes quite often, because he was a sap and he loved her.) He took the note down carefully and started to read it, a little worried about her whereabouts.

Eugene,

I have a surprise for you! Go see Max and he'll know where to take you!

Love,

Rapunzel.

Eugene frowned, immediately worried, because it might be sweet but Rapunzel was barely out of bedrest, a week and a half after her accident. If she was all alone, who knew what- oh, there was writing on the other side too.

PS,

I know you're probably worrying about me already, but I asked the physician and my parents about it and they said yes! I have Pascal and Fidella with me, plus you and Maximus coming, plus a lot of people knowing where to come find me if we're not back in two hours. Now go see Max! I love you!

Well, what could he answer to that? He shook his head, smiling, and put the note on his nightstand, before going to see Max immediately. He wanted to leave her alone as little as was possible, uncomfortably aware of what happened the last time he did, and, seeing that Max was ready and eager to leave, it was apparently a shared sentiment. Eugene tried hard not to stifle her too much, because he knew that wasn't what she needed, but sometimes he wanted to bundle her up in blankets to be sure that she would always be safe. He didn't know what he would do if she wasn't.

Max led him through the forest surrounding Corona, looking proud and sure of himself when Eugene wondered where exactly Rapunzel intended to meet him. Why would it need to be so far away from home? Though, now that he was paying attention, it felt like he recognized some of the landmarks - it has been a long time since he really strolled through the forest but that tree looked sort of familiar, didn't it?

Maximus neighed, startling Eugene as his friend took a sharp corner and suddenly, there Rapunzel was, sitting on a fallen over tree in front of a campfire. Eugene dismounted Max absentely, his breath caught in his throat as the flames illuminated Rapunzel's face wonderfully - it wasn't even that dark outside but she was still glowing, her brown hair taking a fiery orange aspect which made her green eyes pop even more than usual.

"I remember this place," he said, chest warm as she nodded a little too excitedly - he could see that she was trying hard to stay seated, despite the nervous energy coursing through her.

Of course he remembered. For anyone else, this place was nothing more than another uninteresting spot of the forest, but for them both, this was where they made a campfire the day they met. It was where Rapunzel trusted him with her biggest secret, and healed his hand; it was where he trusted her with his biggest secret, and told the story of Eugene Fitzherbert the orphan.

It was where they both discovered and accepted each other for who they were, no pretense needed. He could never forget it.

Eugene went to sit beside Rapunzel, like they did that first day. Maximus made himself scarce, probably meeting with Pascal and Fidella somewhere, but Eugene paid him no mind. He only had eyes for Rapunzel - for the obvious joy in her own, the blush on her cheeks, her wonderful smile, and everything that made her the love of his life.

"Hi," he breathed.

"Hi," she laughed, eyes shining. "Do you like it?"

Eugene had been too taken with her to notice the other decorations she had set up around the campfire. There were flowers all around them, and a basket full of what seemed to be delicious sweets.

"I love it," he answered, his eyes not leaving hers as he took her hands in his. "But, though I'm not complaining, I'm wondering why you decided to come here today."

"Remember the letters Cass sent?" Rapunzel asked, apparently out of the blue.

Eugene frowned, puzzled, but nodded because, seriously, how could he forget? They had to send Cassandra another letter informing her of what happened to Rapunzel - and that their engagement was put on the backburner until she was recovered enough and, hopefully, got her memories back. Rapunzel hadn't recovered her memories as of now. However, they had received a response from Cassandra some days later. Yes, they had received something because, for the first time since she left, Cassandra addressed a letter to Eugene specifically, instead of making snide remarks in the ones she regularly wrote to Rapunzel.

Of course, when Eugene opened it, it was to discover that there wasn't a message, really - she had only wrote "ahahaha" on the whole page, mocking him from across the country for yet another obstacle coming in between him and Rapunzel being engaged. Oh, Rapunzel's letter had been "very sweet" and "full of empathy", his fiancee's words not his, but Eugene didn't believe Cassandra was capable of those things. (He still kept the letter. Bitterly, but he kept it.)

"Well," Rapunzel said when he nodded, "I asked her for advice on something-"

"And she told you to break up with me."

"No! I mean, yes," Rapunzel laughed as Eugene gave her an 'I told you so' look, "she did say that but she also added good advice. She told me that I needed to be blunt, and fix what I wanted to fix instead of dwelling forever on it."

"Fix?" Eugene echoed, suddenly worried - what would Rapunzel need to fix between them? He didn't think he had done something particularly wrong lately, except maybe be a little of a mother-hen because of her injury, but he couldn't help it! He tried hard to let her breathe but he was scared and-

Before he could continue his train of thought, Rapunzel got up, making him follow her movement gently. He opened his mouth, ready to ask her for clarifications, but she didn't leave him the chance.

Rapunzel went down on one knee and all the air left Eugene's lungs, his heart beating louder in his chest.

"This is me, fixing what is bothering me," Rapunzel beamed, her eyes shining. "You were right, Eugene - what matters most to me is that we're able to make new memories together, for all our lives. But we lived through so many moments together, and I treasure every one of them, because I treasure my time with you more than anything else in the world."

"Sunshine," Eugene breathed, unable to voice exactly just how much he loved her. He didn't think words were enough to describe the warmth in his chest overwhelming his senses, making his eyes water from sheer emotion as Rapunzel kept talking.

"This place… This campfire, that was the first time you let me in. This was the moment I really met you, Eugene Fitzherbert, my new dream even if I didn't know it quite yet. You make my life better, and brighter, and I feel so lucky to have you at my side no matter what."

"I'm lucky too," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion, "the luckiest man on Earth."

Rapunzel grinned and, carefully, she took his ring off his finger. "I know you've already done this… and that taking the ring from you may seem counterintuitive, but-" She took a deep breath, still on her knee, now holding his ring between her fingers, her own ring shining thanks to the fire's glow. "- Eugene Fitzherbert, will you marry me?"

"Yes," he answered, too quickly perhaps as he lowered himself and put his arms under hers, lifting her up in a hug. "Of course it's yes," he laughed, and she laughed too - he could feel her smiling against his neck and he never wanted to let her go. "It's always yes."

She moved her head back a little, to be able to look into his eyes. They were both breathless and grinning, cheeks hurting and an never-ending fondness that they didn't bother containing. Their lips met, almost against their will, love pulling them together like gravity.

They breathed, and Rapunzel took the opportunity to slid Eugene's ring back on his finger - which meant he had to kiss her again, because she was his everything and she wanted him to be hers, for their whole lives.

"Let's hope," she murmured after some time, "that our curse is over."

"Not a curse."

"Uh-uh. But let's hope, anyway."

"No more moonstone related incidents," Eugene suggested.

"No more retrograde amnesia," Rapunzel added.

"Sounds good to me," Eugene grinned, before kissing her again - he was certainly lucky. Who had the chance to be engaged twice to the most perfect woman in the universe?

Only him.

(They went back home to announce the engagement a second time to Rapunzel's parents, who were, incredibly enough, as excited as the first time. Rapunzel had to send another letter to Cassandra, to Eugene's despair - she would never let him live it down.

Some days later, Rapunzel pounced on him, startling him awake at an unlawful hour. He didn't complain, though; not when he saw the absolute delight on her face as she announced excitedly that she finally remembered their first engagement. One more than necessary, sure, but when had they ever done something the usual way?

Plus, twice the engagement meant twice the celebration, and Eugene was happy to provide.)

#the plot may be a tad... convoluted yes #I just want as many proposals as possible #and I struggled so much to write this that I hope you will like it anyway lol #tangled #New Dream Appreciation Week #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel #New Dream

[weathergirl8]

Pranks and Tempers (3/3)

I thought about adding more to this, but for now I like where it ended. Enjoy! I’m in college and working fulltime, but trying to work on a sequel to my story Always the Hero. I’ve also got another disaster angsty Alan and Gordon fic in the back burner that hopefully some day I’ll finish.

Part 1 | Part 2

~~~~~~~~~

Jeff sat quietly at his desk as he tried to process the morning’s events. Running an exasperated hand over his face, he composed himself. Turning to the computer monitor, he initiated a line with Thunderbird 5.

“Hey, Dad,” John’s cheerful image appeared upon the screen before him. “A little early for our noon update, aren’t we?” the blonde inquired as he noticed it was barely eleven o’clock in the morning Tracy Island time.

Jeff chuckled. “Got anything to report?”

“Not much,” the astronaut informed. “There’s a typhoon off the coast of the Philippines heading for the open ocean, and a 2.1 magnitude earthquake hit Japan, but the authorities have it under control.”

“Looks like our quiet streak continues for now,” Jeff acknowledged.

“It does!” John smiled, watching his father. Hidden lines of worry were etched upon the patriarch’s face. “This isn’t just a formal call, is it, Dad?”

Jeff smirked at his always insightful second born. “No, John. It isn’t.”

“What happened?” John frowned.

Jeff sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time this morning. “Gordon is on medical leave for the next twenty-four hours at least, and then light duty for a few days after.”

“Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Jeff reassured as he met John’s concerned features. “He has a mild concussion. He and Alan got hurt during an altercation.”

“Altercation?” John asked, confused. “Between each other?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have all the facts yet, only Scott’s account of things,” Jeff explained. “It appears Gordon pulled a prank on your older brother, and as you can imagine, it wasn’t well received.”

John gave his father a curious look. “What’d the little creep do this time?”

“Paint in the showerhead,” Jeff chuckled, unable to hide his amusement.

“My new paint I just ordered, I might add,” Virgil’s voice suddenly echoed as he walked up, joining them.

John shook his head, picturing the image. “Let me guess, it was yellow?” the blonde said, putting a hand to his face.

“How’d you know?” Virgil questioned from behind Jeff.

“While you were heading to the cockpit on the last call, Gordon was securing the equipment. I might’ve allowed him to vent about Scott’s nit-picking on the previous rescue. He was pretty adamant about making our older brother pay for his remarks about Four and his criticizing.”

Virgil groaned. “Of course, he was.”

“So, what happened, and how did Alan get involved?” John asked, still trying to understand the situation.

“Well, as Dad had Scott’s point of view, I got Alan’s,” Virgil said, putting a hand on his father’s chair. “Alan told me Scott confronted Gordon right outside his bedroom. When Alan opened his door to see what was going on, Scott started in on the two of them. Words were said, and Scott shoved the two of them on his way to tell Dad. Both were standing on the ledge of the landing and lost their balance. Gordo smacked his head on the old armoire. Alan hit his back on the edge of the other table and has some cuts and scrapes from a glass vase that broke.”

“Wow,” John whistled, amazed. “That definitely could’ve gone better. How are Scott and Alan?”

“I had to separate them,” Jeff said. “Both were ready to go at each other.”

“They’re too much alike,” John replied, rubbing his neck.

Jeff nodded in agreement. “I’m giving everyone a moment to step back, and then we will talk about what happened. You boys know I don’t like violence. This can’t happen again.”

“Do you want me to talk to Scott?” Virgil asked, looking down at his father.

“No,” Jeff shook his head. “Let’s just let them be for now. Both Scott and Alan do better if you just give them space to cool down.”

“Gordon say anything to you, Virg?” John wondered.

“Not much. Gordy’s feeling pretty guilty, and dare I say stupid at the moment,” Virgil answered honestly.

“Never a dull moment around here is there?” John said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Never,” Jeff exhaled, grinning.

“This too shall pass, Dad,” Virgil said, squeezing their father’s shoulder.

“It’s been a rough week and a half of tough rescues. Tensions are just high. These last few days have been our first real break in some time. Something was bound to happen,” John said. “We’ll be laughing about this by next week.”

Jeff allowed a small smile to graze his features, grateful for their words. “I can only hope.”

-TB-  

Alan walked along the beach, taking in the warm late afternoon breeze as he was making every effort to distract his mind. He watched each wave roll toward the shoreline, it’s sound relaxing him.

As he strolled along the sand, he felt his foot land on a rock. Pausing, he went to reach for it but stopped as he looked at his bandaged hands. Groaning in annoyance, he kicked the object instead, knowing Virgil wouldn’t be happy with him if he got his hands infected with sand.

Noticing he was approaching the path that led back to the house, the youngest Tracy followed it. He’d spent a solid hour wandering the island, and the blonde knew that if he didn’t return soon, Virgil would send a search party.

It had taken some coaxing and sneaking to get his older brother to allow him out of the house. Alan knew Virgil was just overcautious and concerned. Whenever the medic went into doctor mode, nothing was safe from scrutiny. Alan loved his brother for caring, but as he calmly tried to explain, his injuries were superficial. Just a bruise on his back and a few small deep cuts on his hands and knees. He wasn’t dying anytime soon, and a walk around the beach wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He was fine.

Gordon was the one Virgil needed to fuss over. Alan had only been allowed to see Gordon once since the early morning events, and it frustrated him beyond words. It was no secret how close he was to the swimmer of the family, and Gordon was the main person he went to when he needed to vent. Unfortunately, his person was off-limits right now as the ginger’s aching head needed some peace and quiet.

Sure, he could’ve reached out to John as a substitute. John was a great listener and generally had a way with words. An asset the youngest Tracy had utilized often while he had been away at school. Today, Alan didn’t feel like troubling John with his issues. He didn’t need another brother getting drawn into it.

Walking up the steps that led to the pool deck, Alan froze as he came face to face with his eldest brother. The pair stared at one another, unsure who should speak first. Alan made a quick decision and moved to side-step Scott, intent on heading inside without a word.

“Alan, wait,” Scott pleaded.

“Not now, Scott.”

“Alan, would you just quit and listen for once?” Scott cried in frustration.

Alan stopped and immediately turned around. “I’m the one that needs to listen?” the youngest scoffed. “That’s really rich, Scott. Especially coming from you on today of all days.”

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me? It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“No, but it happened didn’t it,” Alan muttered.

“If you two would just grow up and quit your stupid immature games, maybe it wouldn’t have,” Scott fumed.

Alan walked toward his oldest brother, meeting him head-on. “Don’t tell me I’m immature and need to grow up, when after today you are no better. I might get angry and blow up, but I’ve NEVER hurt anyone.” Alan clenched his fists in an effort to keep himself in check, backing away marginally from Scott. “You always do this, Scott! You’ve always made it us against you. Gordon and I labeled just too young and immature to ever understand or be on your level when something doesn’t go your way. I’ve been putting up with it for years, and I’m done!” Alan yelled.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Scott seethed.

“It means I’m sick of it! I can’t speak for Gordon, but something has to give. All I’ve ever wanted is to be seen as your equal and damn it all if I haven’t tried, Scott. I’m definitely not perfect, and I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but you can’t always hold them over my head. I might be the youngest, but I’m not an idiot. I’m not a kid anymore, and you can’t keep treating me like I am.”

Scott remained silent as he took in his baby brother’s words. Relaxing his body, he ran a weary hand over his face. “Is that what you really think? That I think so little of you?”

“Why not?” Alan scoffed. “Ever since I returned from college, you’ve made it hard not to see otherwise. Almost every decision I’ve made on a mission you’ve shot down, rebuked, or called crazy. For the record, there’s more than one solution to a problem. I might not always be right, but haven’t I earned the right to at least be heard?”

“Does Gordon feel the same way?” Scott asked quietly.

Alan shrugged. “I can’t say for certain, but he’s vented to me after a few calls when I was at Harvard.” Alan watched his older brother as Scott took in his words. “Look, Scott. I’m not trying to make you feel like an ass, but I’m just stating facts. You tell me I need to listen more, but so do you. You accused me of being apart of Gordon’s prank this morning when I didn’t have a single hand in it. You wouldn’t even let me get a word in. You had your mind made up, and that was it. What happened after that was well…” Alan paused as he fiddled with the bandages on his hands. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt Gordo and me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I feel betrayed.”

“I feel horrible, Alan. I would never intentionally hurt one of you, but it appears I’ve been doing just that for a while,” Scott said solemnly. “Allie, I had no idea you felt that way. I’ve been an idiot.”

Alan looked up at Scott in shock. “Scott…”

“No, Al, I have,” Scott started, meeting Alan’s eyes. “You’re right, this is all my fault, and I need to listen more. I need to step back. It’s not easy...”

“Believe me, I know how hard it can be,” Alan smirked.

“When did you get so wise?” Scott said with a suspicious stare.

“I’ve always been, you guys just never let me show it,” Alan chuckled.

Scott studied his baby brother’s features once more. Closing the gap between them, he placed a hand along Alan’s left shoulder. “Allie, I guess it boils down to the fact that it’s hard for me to accept that you are as old as you are. That you’ve become an adult and that Gordon is an adult.”

“Sometimes,” Alan laughed.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Scott smirked, returning the laugh. “To me, you’ll both always be my kid brothers - especially you, Allie. I just want to protect you at all costs, and in doing so, I lose sight of what’s standing right in front of me. It’s my job as field commander to make sure all of you make it home from a rescue, and sometimes that blinds me. I’ll work on it, okay? It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll try. Deal?”

Alan smiled. “Deal.”

“Come here,” Scott said as he enveloped Alan in a hug. “Thanks for giving me a kick in the pants and sorry for hurting you guys.”

“It’s okay, Scooter,” Alan replied, returning the hug.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the brunette asked, as he pulled Alan away to get a good look at him. “Dad forced me out before I saw the rest of the damage I inflicted.”

“It’s nothing but a raised bruise that Virgil is making a thing out of,” Alan laughed. “I’ll live.”

Scott scowled. “Hands?”

“Again, I’ll be fine,” Alan said, swatting away his brother’s hand as he reached for the bandages. “Honestly, there’s maybe four or five cuts that are worth all this white gauze. If you ask me, it’s overkill.”

Scott smirked. “That’s our Doc. Virgil is anything but not thorough.”

“Yea. Um,” Alan paused as he looked at his watch. “Speaking of, Virg. If Gordon is feeling better, he should be released from the infirmary by now. If you wanted to see him, that is.”

“I need to talk to him too. Clear the air, you know,” Scott acknowledged.

“I could go with you,” Alan offered. “Maybe help keep the peace for once.”

“Now there’s a first,” Scott bellowed, ruffling the youngster’s blonde mop.

“Fine, I take it back,” Alan pouted.

“Thanks, kiddo, but I think this is one I need to handle on my own,” Scott said, putting an arm around Alan’s back as they headed inside the house.

“Okay, well, you know where to find me,” Alan said. Both looked up to see their father approaching them with a questioning gaze. “Hey, Dad!”

“Everything good here?” Jeff questioned warily.

“All good, Dad. Sorry again about all this,” Scott said.

“Me too,” Alan agreed. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Jeff said sternly. “I won’t tolerate violence in any form from any of you. Especially at home.”

“Have you seen Gordon?” Alan asked.

“I just came from the infirmary. Virgil allowed him to leave the infirmary as long as he took it easy. Gordon said he was headed to his room for a bit. He wasn’t too keen on the pool being off-limits to him until tomorrow,” Jeff said. “I’ve got a business call in my office if you need me. Be good, boys.”

“No pool, huh?” Alan grimaced as they approached their bedrooms. “Are you sure you want to go it alone?”

Scott playfully shoved his little brother into his room. “Don’t rub it in, brat. I’ve got this.”

“Alright,” Alan smirked. “But if I hear shouting, don’t expect me to come running this time.”

Scott glared at him as Alan quickly shut his door before he could comment. Taking in a deep breath, the brunette knocked on Gordon’s door. “Gordon?”

After a few seconds, the redhead opened the door. “Scott?” he asked, surprised.

“Hey,” Scott greeted. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, I guess,” Gordon responded, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m not here to yell,” Scott tried to reassure. “I’m here to apologize and to check on you.”

Gordon took a seat on his bed, remaining quiet. He was unsure of how to respond. “Have you spoken to Alan?”

“I have,” Scott said, leaning against Gordon’s door. “We’re good, Gordon. Now I need to make it up to you. I never meant to hurt you, kid. I never should’ve reacted that way.”

“It’s not entirely all your fault,” Gordon added, studying his brother.

“No, but I’m the reason you’ve got that headache,” Scott replied. “Alan also made sure to remind me how much of an idiot I’ve been.”

Gordon looked up at his eldest brother in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that I’m a horrible listener,” Scott smirked, earning a chuckle from his brother. “Allie pointed out I’ve also been a tyrant in the field lately.”

“What else did Alan say?”

“He made it pretty clear I’ve been a jerk all around, Gordo. To you and him,” Scott said, as he moved forward to join Gordon on the bed. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel anything less than a valued member of the team. That was the last thing I meant to do.”

“The rescues over the last few months, unfortunately, have required a lot of tough calls on my behalf. It’s not an excuse, but it’s my job to make sure you make it back here, Gordon. In performing that job, I also got in my head. Bottled a lot of the bad stuff up, and it just exploded. Sadly, you bore the brunt of that. I can’t tell you how sorry I sincerely am for hurting you and Allie.”

“I accept your apology, but only if you’ll accept mine as well,” Gordon replied, meeting his brother’s sapphire eyes. “Wow, that must’ve been some talk the Sprout gave you,” Gordon chuckled.

“More screamed at me, but he opened my eyes,” Scott sobered. “I mean it, Gordon. I’m going to try to be better at listening to you guys. I never want you to feel like your opinion doesn’t matter on a call. I might not always see the merits to your perspective, but as Alan pointed out, you deserve to be heard.”

“Even when you’re an asshole?” Gordon asked, honestly.

“Yes, especially then,” Scott simpered. “I’m sure you’ll be the first to remind me.”

“You bet I will,” Gordon smiled with glee.

“How’s the head?” Scott asked as he placed a gentle hand on his younger brother’s forehead.

“Throbs every once and awhile, but I’ve dealt with worse,” Gordon confessed. “Quit beating yourself up about it. What’s done is done. I’ll be good as new in a day or so, and this will just be another cherished memory.”

“It could’ve been worse.”

“Scott, just let it go,” Gordon groaned. “Or do I need to find Allie to knock some more sense into you?”

“No, I’m good,” Scott laughed. “Can’t let Alan get too big a head, now can we?”

“I think that ship sailed long ago, big brother.”

Scott chuckled and stood up from the bed, making his way toward the door. “I’ll let you get some more rest. Need anything?”

“No, I’m good. Besides, I give Virgil an hour before he checks in on me,” the redhead reassured.

“Take it easy and don’t give Virgil too hard a time,” Scott ordered, giving his brother a knowing look. “I’m headed to do some work in the silos. Never know when we’ll get our next call.”

“F.A.B,” Gordon saluted, earning an eye roll from his older brother. “Oh, and Scott? Just remember who has the better Thunderbird,” the redhead winked as Scott left his room, muttering about him being delusional.

Maybe another prank was in his future….

FIN 

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #alan tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #my works #my writing #pranks and tempers #chapter 3 #finished

[ren-deru-16]

Episode 5

“Ari.” Langa called her out after her shift from her part-time was over. “Can you help me out?”

Behind him were Miya and Shadow. She knew where this is headed. “Okay.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon teaching Langa the Casper Slide that ADAM uses it. Since she’s a bad at explaining the techniques about skateboarding, she points out his errors in his form and corrects him.

“It’s dangerous to skate against ADAM.” She thought while watching Langa skate. “Not many can survive skating against him and still continue… I understand that Reki-kun’s worried for him but… if Langa-kun is still adamant in skating against ADAM, all I can do is help him win.”

*Day of the beef between ADAM and Langa*

As expected, the crowd was talking who will win in the beef tonight. And also, many would glare and give Arima the evil eye as they passed by.

“They still hate you for talking back to ADAM.” Miya told her.

“That won’t make me like that masked weirdo.” She replied.

“You still hate his guts, huh?” Joe said.

“After what happened? Probably not.”

Reki and Langa felt that there is something more to that.

“ADAM’s here!”

Compared to ADAM’s previous entrance, this time, he made an effort to roll down a red carpet to Langa’s direction with a bouquet of flowers at hand, plus a spotlight on him. The crowd cheered for his arrival.

Arima’s comment was, “How lame.”

ADAM merely chuckled. “You don’t like me at all, do you, DEVIL?”

“You must be blind for not noticing before.” She scoffed. “I could never bring myself to like you, ADAM.”

For the others, it was only Joe and Cherry who can look at the legend straight to the eye and talk back. Seeing a teenager diss him… that never happens.

It was as if she had a harbored grudge against him.

***

In a distance, sirens of police cars were heard and everyone scrambled to get away.

"Where’s Reki and DEVIL?!" Miya searched for them until he saw the two starting the motorbike's engine, with Arima driving.

Up ahead, the two saw the police car stop in front of Langa. Arima sped up and drifted in front of him

"Hop on!" Reki told him.

He wasted no time getting on board before Arima revved the engine and moved past the police.

“Hang on, you two!”

Arima took a shortcut under the subway and parked the motorbike hidden from the streets.

“Let’s hide here until they pass by.” She told the two.

Once the police car passed them, the three breathed a sigh of relief.

Langa fixed the bandage on Reki’s arm when it became loose while Arima stepped back to answer a call.

“Arima, are you all right? We heard that the police suddenly came over to the abandoned mines where you skate. Were you caught?” Her dad called worriedly.

“No. I’m fine, dad. Nothing worry. Tell mom that there’s nothing to worry about.”

She heard them sigh from the next line. “I see. Don’t hesitate to call us if something happens, okay? Fufufu. I thought I was speaking to a son for a second. Be careful, Arima.”

“I will. Thanks, dad.”

When he ended the call, it was right on time when the conversation between the two boys were over. Reki turned to look at her.

“Your parents?”

“Yeah. I told them I’m fine.”

“…Hey, Ari…” The teen started. “Do you know ADAM?”

Her face darkened. “No. Not really.”

“But earlier and even before that… the way you two talk as if… you know each other before. When Joe said something “after what happened”, I feel like there is something more to it that you never told me.”

“…”

Her mismatched eyes drifted to the two boys before she sat next to them, her attention to the sea in front.

“Before I met Reki, I had a beef with ADAM once.”

“!!”

She continued. “It was him who approached me. Cherry told me that he has his eye on me previously and ADAM challenged me to a beef all of a sudden. I was aware that he’s founder of “S” but I didn’t care.”

“But…during the time he appeared after Langa’s beef with Miya…”

She faced them. “You remember what I told him, right?”

Langa nodded. “You asked him if he’s really ADAM.”

“It was out of spite. Ever since that time, I had the urge to spite him. I could never bring myself to like him or recognize him as a legend.” She said. “Also, his outfit is way too flashy for my liking and he’s too dramatic. I gotta cringe, seriously.”

Reki sweat dropped before asking. “What happened during the beef you had with him?”

“It was the same as what you two experienced.” She recalled the race she had and made a fist. “It was the first time I... I was shaken up in a beef but... That was only at first.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way he was toying with me, somehow, I was no longer afraid of him after a while. I felt as if I was being drawn in. I let myself get pulled in and before I knew it, I was even crazier than usual. I danced to his rhythm until I overwhelmed him. I was too much for his control. I defy him, I accept him. It was a conflicting dance. During that time, I was literally playing with fire. My board was on fire because of the friction but I didn't care."

“What about the Love Hug?” Reki asked.

Her eyes darkened. “He dodged me on the last minute.”

“Eh?”

Arima bit her lip in frustration. “I don’t know why. I have no intentions of evading that Love Hug of his since avoiding it is what he’s expecting. I was prepared for it. I let myself get pulled in until he stopped and avoided me the last moment. ”

Her red and gold eyes widened in surprise when he avoided her. She didn’t expect that. Because ADAM expects his opponents to avoid him and not the other way around.

Due to the speed of going downhill, she barely managed to do a turn on a corner before she crashed and rolled on the stony ground, her board covered in small flames.

“DEVIL!” Cherry and Joe went to her and the pink haired ripped a piece of his sleeves.

“Shit, your head is bleeding.” Joe gritted his teeth as the other applied pressure on the wound “I’m taking you to the hospital afterwards.”

“I’ll do it. You have no delicacy, you gorilla.”

“Oi!!”

“Cherry..? Joe…?” She mumbled as she weakly tried to sit.

“Don’t move. You’re going to the hospital after this.”

“Damn. You crashed real hard this time, DEVIL.”

ADAM skated to her and looked down at the bleeding girl.

“I was mistaken. You are not my true EVE.” He said in a low voice. “You are a true devil.”

“I didn’t know what he meant by that but, it’s true that people call me DEVIL because of my eyes and personality when skating. When he called me a devil, I feel like there is something more to it.” She pushed back her peach colored hair. “In any case, I don’t like ADAM and I could never bring myself to like him. I knew he was an asshole and what he said to Miya pissed me off.”

The evening breeze gently passed by. “What I don’t understand is that, why he told me that he would never ever race with me after that. I kinda feel like he hates me as well and frankly, I might find it creepy if he likes me.”

She made a face like she’s about to barf.

“Anyway, that’s my history with ADAM.” She said. “After that race, I had a concussion and broke my right arm. I couldn’t skate for weeks and my parents thankfully didn’t tell me to quit after that injury. I was grateful I’m ambidextrous and I can still do things with my left hand.”

“…I didn’t expect that…” Reki was in shock. “I mean, you had a beef with a legend and it happened around when you were in middle school. Why didn’t I know this?”

“Because it wasn’t worth talking to.” She replied. “People assume I’m one of those people who would race against ADAM and be defeated like usual. But, they didn’t see or realize that ADAM was the one that avoided me. Only Cherry and Joe noticed it and when I asked them about it, they have no idea as well. And it was the first time he was the one to avoid too.”

“Could ADAM be possible be…afraid?” Langa said.

“I find that hard to believe.” She snorted. “I mean, I talk back to him and spite him but, I have to admit that it’s impossible for ADAM to be afraid of someone like me.”

“But if there’s a slightest chance he’s really afraid of me…what is it?”

“Langa, Reki’s right.” She faced the half breed with serious eyes. “Stay away from ADAM. Reki’s worried for you. You have to stay away from that guy. For the sake of you two.”

*Meanwhile*

Kikuchi Tadashi was driving the car as his boss, Shindo Ainosuke aka “ADAM”, sat at the back after he retrieved him when police arrived at the race. ADAM leaned his head on his hand as he watched the view outside.

“The sensations are different than last time…no, they are slightly the same…” he thought “DEVIL could never be my EVE. She has the same vision as me when skating and she’s on toe with me. But, she’s overthrowing me. I cannot rein her. She goes to my rhythm, and overwhelms me. She destroys my rhythm like a devil.

I thought that she was my EVE when I saw her performance. The moment I started racing against her, I realized that it was my gravest mistake.

Her level of sanity is over the rails. I cannot control her. She let me do what I want but she instantly turns the table and overwhelm me. It was the first time I’ve seen a skater as insane as her.

When I was about to do the Love Hug, she was grinning like a crazed devil and it was as if… she was about to swallow me whole.

She was the first to give me a cold chill down my spine with her eyes.

My instincts made me avoid her. But it was in that moment I realized… she’s not my EVE… she’s the devil that could swallow me whole.”

“And my EVE is with the DEVIL.”

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 the infinity ep 5 #langa #reki #adam #shadow #miya #joe #cherry #langa vs adam #sk8 the infinity lengthy drabble #oc scared the sh*t our of adam #sk8 the infinity oc #oc challenged adam #reki is worried of langa uwuuuu #oc is a shipper hehehe

[ruthoakenshield]

Thorin and the Gem Carver (Part 12)

Balin and Galadriel arrive with you in the wheeled chair and you all are greeted by a chorus of “Welcome!” Thorin, once again is stunned speechless by how lovely you look in the golden gown. Kili and Fili are giggling and watch their Amad elbow Thorin to snap him out of it. She chuckles and gives him a nudge towards you.

He comes over to you and kisses your forehead, then rests his on it for a moment. “My kidhuzurâl (golden one), how are you today?” he asks as he stands back up. You blush at his greeting and look up to Balin. He chuckles and tells Thorin, “She has asked me to adopt her as my Nâthuê kurdu (daughter of my heart).” He says quietly, but beaming.

Thorin gets a huge grin and pats Balin on the shoulder. “I am happy for you, Bâhaê ‘ugmul (my oldest friend). You have waited a long time for a child, and now Mahal blesses you with a daughter who’s hair matches yours!” he teases.

Balin guffaws and nods. “Aye, that it does, aside from the lovely blue.” He says, caressing your head lovingly. You tilt your head into his hand and enjoy his attentions. Thorin glances down at you and notices his courting braids near your face. He squats down and tilts your head to see how you got them so short. “How is it that your courting braids got so short, Gehyith (Little Dove)?” he inquires.

You tell him how your maid used the braid to make the diamond patterns on either side of your head with them so that the braids and beads could be seen and appreciated.” Thorin caresses the beautiful diamond patterns on the side of your head. “It is a clever maid you have. I approve of her design.” He says and stands. “Come, let us eat and celebrate Balin gaining a daughter!” he exclaims happy for his friend.

You giggle and Balin pushes you over to sit on Thorin’s right side. Fili is once again next to you and gives you a grin. “You look lovely, once again!” he tells you. “What is this?” he says, noticing his Uncle’s braids and beads hanging from your temples. “You didn’t notice them before?” you tease.

He shakes his head. “No, I guess I didn’t. When did he put them in your hair?” he asks. You laugh quietly, nearly a week ago! But the beads were all the way down by my feet and wouldn’t be seen by anyone. I was afraid of losing them, so Galadriel asked my maids to find a way to shorten the braids without cutting them or undoing them. This is what they came up with for today.” You explain.

He gazes at the diamond pattern she made with the courting braid. “I’ve never seen such a thing done with courting braids before! It makes such a pretty pattern in your hair like that! He exclaims quietly. Kee, look at what Jade’s maid did with Uncle’s courting braids in her hair!” he elbows his brother. Kili looks over and his eyes get wide, “Oooh! That looks neat! You should use that design for your royal border when you and Uncle marry!” he suggests. Thorin smirks at hearing his nephew say, ‘when’. Balin chuckles too.

You blush deeply and Thorin grins. Just then, your Aunt and Dwalin come into the Dining hall arm in arm and join you all at the table across from you. She notices your hair and comments on it, telling you it looks beautiful. You blush again and she grins. Thorin tells everyone he’d like their attention. The room quiets and he stands.

“Balin just informed me when he arrived with our dear Jade, that she has asked him to formally adopt her, wanting him to take over the role of Adad for her.” He announces. “Balin has agreed and so Jade will now be known as his Nâthuê kurdu (daughter of my heart).” Everyone looks at the two of you and cheers. Your face is beet red with embarrassment and you grin and duck your head. Everyone congratulates you both and Bombur brings out the best wine and mead and ale for everyone to celebrate with.

Thorin sits and takes your hand. “I am happy for you, Amrâlimê.” He tells you. “Balin is a wise and kind Dwarf and will make a wonderful Father figure for you.” He adds. “Aye, welcome to the family, Lass!” Dwalin says to you with a huge grin and holds up his mug of ale to you. You look at Thorin and he grins and helps you hold up your goblet of mead to his mug. Then he helps you to take a drink. “Thank you.” You tell them both.

Dwalin winks and chuckles. “So what did you do this morning while we were in council with a bunch of crabby old Dwarves?” Dwalin asks you. You sigh and reply, “I got bored being stuck in my room, so Galadriel asked the guard to find someone to show me around Erebor for a few hours. He went and got Bofur and Kili since you all were in council meetings.

We went to see the Hobbit’s garden, and the Library. Ori gave us a tour and he actually had one of my Mother’s journals that she had kept her drawings and designs for various projects she was working on. He gave it to me, and he also had some of my Poppa’s maps, which I told him to keep for the library. I didn’t have any use for them now that it seems that my traveling days are done.” You say sadly.

“Don’t say that, Jade.” I’m sure you’ll be able to travel again, it’ll just be a while until you’ve regained enough strength to do so.” Fili tells you.

You sigh. “It’s hard for me to just sit and not be doing something. It’s hard for me to need SO much help. I feel like a caged beast thanks to these injuries.” You say quietly. “You all have been so kind and generous to me, and I truly am grateful, but I just feel like I don’t fit in here. I’m used to leather and cotton and traveling from place to place, never settling down anyplace for too long. I’m used to the simple life roughing it. Being in luxury and fine dresses and jewelry like I am is foreign to me. I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror now.” you sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you trail off and look down into your lap, feeling embarrassed.”

Thorin and Dwalin look at each other, puzzled. They look down to Balin and he sees the puzzled expressions. Galadrial notices and asks them in their minds what the problem is. They tell her and she sighs. “She has been like this all morning.” She tells them. “She is struggling to come to terms with her losses and her new lifestyle. Just be patient and give her time to adjust.” She tells them.

Thorin reaches over to you and takes your hand. “Gehyith (Little Dove), I know you’re having a hard time adjusting. I understand. You did not grow up in this environment like we did. It will take time to adjust. We will do what we can to make it easier for you. If you need a break from things, let us know. If you wish for a change of scenery, we can arrange for you to visit friends in Dale or take you to see Lake Town. I do not recommend you go into the Greenwood though until you are wed. Thranduril may not let you leave if he catches you in his wooded realm.” He warns you. You nod.

“Come now, what would you like to eat for lunch?” he asks gesturing to the food on the table that Bombur and his family are setting down. You tell him what you’d like, and Fili takes your plate and puts the food on it and cuts it up for you so you can work on eating. He sets your plate in front of you and asks if there’s anything else you would like. You shake your head and he goes to fill his plate.

Thorin helps you stab the food with your fork and you can get it almost to your mouth now after using the new cutlery he gave you with the gem handles that are easier for you to hang onto. He helps you when you need it and helps you drink when you are thirsty. He eats between helping you and visiting with you and Dwalin and your Aunt.

Dis asks you how you liked the Library. “Oh! It’s lovely! I told Ori he should give lessons to the librarians in the White City! Their library is a huge mess! I don’t know how they can find anything in their library! It’s SO unorganized!!!” you giggle. Ori has done an amazing job in Erebor’s library and I look forward to spending more time exploring it when I am finally able to move on my own without needing help.” You tell her.

She grins and nods. “He has done a LOT of work cataloging and cleaning and organizing it. Balin tells me your Aunt is learning to read and write our language and will be helping him in the library once she is proficient in it!” Dis exclaims.

Julia nods. “Yes, Balin is teaching me and Dwalin is helping me practice reading and writing Khuzdul.” Julia confirms. “I’m enjoying learning to read stories and tales and can’t wait to be able to read the books in the library and go on my own adventures through them.” She giggles excitedly.

Dis just smiles warmly at seeing her excitement.

“Jade, did you have any other hobbies besides carving wood and gems?” Kili asks after a while. You frown. “Not really. Carving was all I ever seemed to do, aside from sketching out plans and designs like Poppa showed me to do. He never let me carve anything until I had drawn it out so it could be easily visualized by both me and the person I was making the piece for. That way they could make changes to it before I began to carve.” You explain.

“Did you have a book you drew your sketches in?” Kili asks. You shrug. “Not really. I just used whatever was available. Theoden had scraps of parchment that were saved and used for making first drafts of documents, they’d use both sides of the parchments before burning them.” You explain. “I’d make my drawings on those, once the job was completed, the drawings would be burned since they were not needed any longer.” You explain.

“Bummer!” Kili says, “I was hoping to see the different sketches of the things you had carved. All we’ve seen is the sapphire horse you carved for Eowyn.” He says. You frown. “Most of the items I carved were either for Theoden or for Elrond and Galadriel. I did most of the carvings in the great hall for Theoden, along with his throne and the various bed chambers they had for both the royal family and guests.” You say quietly.

Thorin’s, Dwalin’s, Kili’s, Fili’s and Dis’ eyes all get huge. “YOU carved those?!?” they all exclaim! We wondered who did such fine carvings!” Dwalin exclaimed. You duck your head and blush. “Really, Jade? You carved all those?” Fili asks you. You nod. “It took me several years to do them all.

Theoden had me start out in the guest chambers. Told me I could carve whatever I liked in them since I had been traveling through the kingdoms and lands of men and elves and a few dwarves for several decades. He trusted me to carve things that would appeal to them all. Once I had finished those rooms, he examined each one and approved, then he let me carve for their private chambers, giving me instructions as to what each chamber’s owner wanted carved. I drew up designs for them and the owner of the chamber and I would work together to come up with a design they liked. Then I’d carve in that room until it was finished, and then move on to the next room.

I started with Eowyn’s room, then her brother, Eomer’s, then their cousin, Théodred’s. Once they all attested to my skills, Theoden allowed me to carve in his room and then when he saw my skills and ability to carve in great detail, he gave me permission to carve in his great halls. Theoden had little in the way of treasure of gems, but he did allow me to carve a few of the ones he did possess. I made a signet ring for Theodred and for Eomer, and carved the sapphire horses for Eowyn that you have already seen.” You explain between bites of dessert. “I never thought to keep the drawings I did. I never thought anyone else would want to see them when they can go to the places to see the actual results for themselves.” You explain.

Thorin listens to you explaining your process for how you did carvings for Theoden, he decided to get you a journal that you can do your sketch designs in and keep them for future references. He decides to give it to you as a second courting gift. (The cutlery set didn’t count since it was a combined gift from him, Galadriel and Celeborn.)

Once everyone was done eating, you were wheeled back from the table by Fili and Kili. You sigh and look around. You see a carving of a beautiful raven off in the corner by the fireplace and ask Fili to push you over to it so you could look at it. He and Kili push you over to the statue and you sigh. “Can you help me to stand so I can see it?” you ask.

They look unsure. “I don’t know, Jade. Are you supposed to be standing yet?” Fili asks. “No.” a voice from behind them says. “But if you both support her weight, I will allow it.” Thorin rumbles. “Just be careful.” He adds.

They nod. Fili comes and stands in front of you. “Hook your arms around my neck, Jade.” He says. He puts his hands under your arms to lift you up. Kili is behind you and holds your hips, helping to lift you. Once they get you standing, Thorin moves the wheeled chair out from behind you.

Kili supports your weight by wrapping his arms around your middle and holds you flush against his chest. Your legs tingle like they are waking up from being asleep. You try to ignore the sensations and let go of Fili’s neck as he steps around next to you. “You got her okay, Kee?” he asks. Kili nods. “She doesn’t weigh much, Fee.” He giggles. You ask Fili to tuck the end of your dress into your belt so Kili doesn’t step on it and tear it. He blushes as it reveals your legs up to your knees, but does what you ask.

Fili moves closer to the statue so you can examine it better. You are amazed at the amount of fine detail. Each feather’s veining is carved into the black obsidian stone. Thorin, Balin and Dwalin stand off to the side near the fireplace and watch you.

Kili is holding you so that your feet just barely rest on the floor. When he moves, he hooks your feet on top of his, so your legs move in time with his like when a young dwarrowdam stands on her Adad’s feet to learn to dance. Balin chuckles and comments on it. Thorin and Dis chuckle as she joins them by the fire to watch you with her sons. “I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing that.” Dis says with a grin.

Galadriel comes over and stands by them watching you. You’re completely engrossed in examining the statue and the two young dwarves are telling you about the great Raven who chose to serve their ancestor, Durin the Deathless. They explain to you that the Raven was the inspiration for this piece and it is supposed to be Durin the Deathless’ Raven and that all the Ravens who serve the line of Durin are descended from that original Raven.

You are caressing the feathers and enjoying the feeling of the cool stone and the subtle engravings under your fingers. You turn slightly to examine the feet of the bird when your leg moves on it’s own as if you were trying to shift from one leg to the other. Kili’s eyes get huge. “Hey! You moved your leg all on your own, Jade!” he exclaims.

“Huh?” you say, confused. “When you turned to examine the Raven’s feet, your body weight shifted and your leg moved on it’s own as if you were going to put your weight onto it.” he tells you. You look down and sure enough, it’s moved from where it had been resting on top of Kili’s boot.

“Huh!” you say, puzzled. ‘I don’t know how I did it!” you reply. “Try to move it again, Jade.” Fili says excitedly. You look down at it and nothing happens. You look up at Fili and frown. “Nothing’s happening.” You say, puzzled.

“Hmmm.” Fili says, rubbing his beard and playing with his mustache braids. “Try picturing yourself walking to me.” He says and takes a couple steps away. Kili turns you so you’re facing Fili. You close your eyes and picture yourself walking to Fili. You feel tingling in your legs and feet. You concentrate on the feeling now and you feel your foot twitch.

Your eyes are still closed so you don’t see the Dwarves’ reaction to the two brothers encouraging you to try to move your legs again. Their eyes open wide with surprise when your left foot twitches forward a half step then stops. Galadriel grins and encourages you in your mind. “Good, keep doing that Jade. Whatever it is you are doing, keep doing it. Your foot moved forward a half step.” She tells you silently.

You continue to focus and this time on your other foot. You feel the tingle build in your muscles then feel it twitch and hear a small gasp come from your right. You want to look, but Kili keeps encouraging you. “Great job, Jade. Do it again!” he tells you.

You spend the next few minutes focusing on the tingles in your legs, feeling them build and then release in a twitch of your muscles, making you take a half step forward each time. Kili and Fili are absolutely ecstatic and are excited to see you moving your legs. The adult Dwarves stand there stunned, watching you ever so slowly make your way a few feet across the floor to where Fili was standing.

You get about half-way to Fili and then say, “Kee, I’m tired. Can I please sit again?” “Sure, Jade. You did great! I’m proud of you!” he tells you. “Yeah, Jade. That was awesome to see! We’ll have to keep practicing that with you.” Fili tells you as he brings the wheeled chair over to you. He helps Kili lower you into the chair and you rub your legs. “Are your legs hurting, Lass?” Balin asks as he comes over to make sure you’re okay.

“Just tingly.” You reply. “I’m proud of you, ‘Ibinê (My gem). You did very good for a first time!” He praises you. “I think we should have Oin take a look at your spine again and see if he is okay with you practicing like this though. “How did it feel? Any pain anywhere?” he asks.

You shake your head, “No, it just tingled. The tingling sensation would build up and then feel like it explodes or releases and makes the muscles twitch. Then builds up again and repeats when I try to move my legs.” You try to explain what you’re feeling, unsure if you’re getting across to him what you are feeling.” Galadriel grins.

“That is a good sign, Jade. It means the nerves are starting to reconnect and communicate with your brain again.” She tells you and the other Dwarrow. “Just don’t over do it. A little at a time, until you don’t feel exhausted any longer.” She suggests.

You all nod. “I think you should go lie down for a while. Sweetheart. You’re looking pretty tired.” Balin tells you. You nod and yawn, making them all chuckle.

“I’ll take you back to your room.” He tells you. “Your Aunt and Dwalin left to get her back to the Library to help Ori with a project, so I’ll have the maids come help you get ready for your nap, and I’ll come sit with you once you’re ready to sleep. If you need anything, I’ll be right by the fireplace.” He tells you.

“Mind if I join you?” Thorin asks Balin. Balin looks down to you. You shrug. “I guess it would be alright, since the two of you are not being left alone and are chaperoned.” Balin teases. Thorin rolls his eyes and chuckles.

You thank Kili and Fili for helping you and for telling you about the ravens. They grin and nod. “Get some rest, Jade.” They say, “Hurun ganat.”(rest well)

Thorin walks with you as Balin pushes you in the wheeled chair down the hall and back to your room. You look at the carvings on the wall directing the inhabitants to different areas of the mountain. “Adad, you said that guests sometimes stay in the royal wing?” you ask.

Balin grins, hearing you call him Adad. “Yes, Lass, why do you ask?” he inquires, pausing as you look over at another of the carvings on the wall. “How do they know where to go in the mountain when they can not read these carvings?” you ask.

Balin and Thorin look at each other, then down at you. “They ask the guards.” Thorin tells you.

You frown. “Wouldn’t it show them more hospitality if there were additional engravings in the common tongue directing them how to navigate the mountain like the khuzdul engravings do for the dwarrow?” you inquire.

They both look at you in surprise. Then Balin chuckles. “Yes, Lass, I suppose it would be more hospitable for them to not constantly have to ask a guard for directions if they could just read them on the walls in common tongue. I guess no one ever thought to do it till now.” he says patting your shoulder.

Thorin smiles, appreciating your thoughtful gesture to guests in the mountain who could not read Khuzdul.

They arrive back at your suite and Thorin sends a guard to go fetch your maids so they can help you get ready for a nap.

More Chapters to come.

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#thorin fanfiction #Middle Earth #Erebor #Thorin Oakenshield #king thorin #kili durin #fili durin #Balin son of Fundin #Dwalin son of Fundin #Julia #Jade the Gem Carver #Galadriel #Dis #Hobbies #drawing #carving #Edoras #lunch #celebration #adoption #re-learning to walk #pins and needles #legs fell asleep #out of the wheeled chair #nap time #courting #getting to know each other

[superman86to99]

Action Comics #692 (October 1993)

In this issue: Superman goes to the doctor and finds out why he's not dead anymore! But, before that, he's clearing some of the debris left by his fight with Doomsday when he finds... Clark Kent? Lois Lane is very happy to see Clark again, but Superman himself doesn't look very thrilled in these panels.

Turns out Clark wasn't dead as everyone believed, he was simply trapped in the basement of a collapsed building! The basement happened to equipped with plenty of food and gym equipment (explaining why he's still jacked, like Superman), but unfortunately not a single pair of scissors (explaining why his hair is now long, like Superman's).

Later, Superman bumps into Lex Luthor Jr., who demands to know where Supergirl is, but Superman gives him the runaround. Hmm, where could Superman's good friend who can change shape and pretend to be other people be? Anyway, Superman then meets Lois and Clark and... holy crap! Mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent is secretly Supergirl!

So yeah, Supergirl pretended to be Clark for a while just so he and Superman would be seen together and no one would question why both are suddenly alive again. Then Supergirl leaves and we move on to the second dilemma solved in this issue: How the hell is Superman alive again? To address that question, supernatural DC character (and fellow Jerry Siegel/Joe Shuster creation) Doctor Occult appears out of nowhere and rudely teleports Lois and Clark to a black void, where he replays moments from Superman's life... and death.

Occult explains that Doomsday DID punch Superman's spirit out of his body, but there was still solar energy keeping the body just barely alive. Superman's ghost ended up stuck between the living and the dead, attracting some nasty soul-eating demons. Fortunately, Pa Kent happened to be dying of a heart attack at the same time, so he and Superman teamed up to fight off the demons (as seen in Adventures #500). Superman’s soul returned to his near-corpse, which was taken to the Fortress of Solitude by the Eradicator and lovingly nursed back into health. (Okay, more like “coldly,” but you can’t argue with the results.)

Anyway, the point is that Superman's resurrection happened due to a convoluted series of events that could never be repeated, unless someone's willing to sneak behind Pa Kent and blow an airhorn in his ear or something. As the mystical exposition dump ends, Occult teleports Lois and Clark to Smallville, and the issue ends with the Kents finally reuniting. A tender moment...

...until two seconds later, when Ma smacks Clark in the back of the head for taking two whole issues to come see them (or that’s what I’d do).

Plotline-Watch:

Doctor Occult reveals that the moment when Bibbo shocked Superman’s body with a hyper-charged defibrillator in Adventures #498 actually helped keep him alive. Once again, Bibbo is the real hero of this saga.

Supergirl has a lot of experience posing as Clark, since she was stuck in that form between 1989 and 1992. That was also her in the only other photo of Superman and Clark together, taken in Superman #34.

While Superman is being interviewed by a news crew after rescuing "Clark", that lawyer from Action #689 barges in and demands that they stop calling Superman Superman, since that name is now trademarked by Superboy's manager. Damn, maybe he's gonna have to start calling himself "Supreme" or something?

Aww, Lex is happy to see Superman again. Sure, it's only because he wants to be the one to kill him, but still.

S.T.A.R. Labs is examining the Eradicator's corpse when they realize he's alive! Sort of. Later, Doctor Occult remarks that the Eradicator sacrificed himself "in mind, if not in body". Hmm. The doctors overseeing his condition are Kitty Faulkner, who can turn into an orange She-Hulk called Rampage after a workplace mishap, and a new character called David Connors, the only S.T.A.R. employee without superpowers. So far.

The JLA returns from the little space vacation the Cyborg sent them on, and we get the first instance in all of comics of Guy Gardner admitting he was wrong. Character growth! Don Sparrow says: “Nice to see some follow-up to the characters around the DCU and how they react to Superman’s return. No mention of the fact that they got suckered into a mission into space that went nowhere.”

When Doctor Occult shows up, Superman is like "aw, not this guy again!", referencing that classic tale of Superman's first encounter with the supernatural... which hasn't come out yet. Don: “It’s a neat forward call-back (is that a thing?) when Superman references his first encounter with Doctor Occult, given that we won’t see it happen until 1995, when DC does a line-wide ‘Year One’ series of stories. And wouldn’t you know it, that story is written by none other than Roger Stern (and even involves tentacles, as in the thumbnail image)!” #rogersternplaysthelonggame

Don Sparrow's section, on the other hand, can be read NOW, after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

We open with the cover, and it’s one of the top ten best of this era, for sure.  Drawn by Kerry Gammill and Butch Guice, DC used this drawing on the “Return of Superman” cards.  I tend to favour simpler, iconic covers, even when they don’t necessarily represent the story within, but in this case, it’s showing exactly what the heart of the story is about: Clark Kent is back. 

Inside, we open with a full page splash of Superman’s shield, through tons of rubble, and it’s a great image, but without the face, it allows us to focus on the title of the story, a callback to the speech introduction of the old Fleischer Cartoons.

I don’t know if it’s from the writing, or the artist, but Action Comics has always seemed the most romantic of the Super-titles, and this one is no exception, as Clark and Lois have their hands all over each other for basically the whole comic. While it is a bit weird to remember that it isn’t Clark that Lois is caressing (more on that in a bit) in the early part of the story, it always feels intimate and romantic more than it feels graphic or titillating.  A tricky balance that this team pulls off well, particularly in their “reunion” on page 3. [Max: Every time I read this issue I think it’s Martian Manhunter posing as Clark and when they start flirting I’m like “ew”. Then I remember who it is and I’m like “nice”.]

I always enjoy seeing Superman flying upside-down, which I consider to be a Byrne innovation—I don’t remember him doing it pre-Crisis. It always seems so joyful and carefree, and it’s nice to see Superman savouring his powers. 

Jackson Guice uses tone very well in the scenes with Lex Luthor II in his aviators, and I quite like the sense of motion to Superman’s pose as he approaches the helicopter—almost like he’s swimming in the sky rather than floating.

It’s a good drawing of the Eradicator getting the post-Hoth Luke Skywalker treatment, with David Connor and Kitty Faulkner getting an eyeful.  My copy has a slight colouring error that makes it look like the Eradicator is awake in the tank, even though he’s supposed to be catatonic. [Max: Still looks like that in the collections. Maybe he’s one of those people who sleep with their eyes open?]

Superman embracing Lois after the ruse of “Clark Kent” is very cutely drawn, as is the Ghost-like backward embrace on the following page.  

The entire sequence replaying Superman’s death and rebirth is drawn well throughout, especially the dreamlike staging, and the darkness as Lois knocks the flashlight away.  It’s also moving that Superman can see the heroic lengths that Bibbo went to try to save him once Superman succumbed to his injuries.  

Lastly, it was wonderful to see Clark reunited physically with Ma and Pa, especially with the nice touch of the poem by DH Lawrence as the only narration.  Stern was always the best at referencing secondary texts in his stories, and it’s well used here.

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Is it me, or is Matrix/Supergirl a little too into this Clark Kent act?  I get that making their performances light and funny keep it from seemingly overtly dishonest, but “Clark” is pretty tender in these scenes. Lois does a good job of playing along, but it’s hard for me to fully forget that all this canoodling is actually with Supergirl.  So as a helpful tool, I created these graphics: [Max: Nice.]

It was cool that Lois specifically mentioned that Jimmy got a shot of the returned Clark Kent next to Superman, I always like it when that can happen.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about how creepy it is that Luthor has a sexual relationship with Supergirl/Matrix, when she is in so many ways (mainly mentally) a child, and I can’t help but read the scene where Lois chooses Superman over “Clark” this way.  The laughing and clapping has a whole different feel if you think of her as mentally diminished somewhat.  

So it’s not exactly a continuity error that Clark says on page 13 that he has to call Ma and Pa to let them know that “Clark” is alright (even though he already called them in a previous issue).  It could be that they want to tell the Kents the cover story of Clark’s return has now taken place, and they can act like their son is alive again when they go to the corner store, etc. [Max: Yeah, that’s how I took it. It would be awkward if their neighbors saw them all cheerful while their son is still “dead”.]

 I like to imagine that Dr. Occult looks and sounds like Robert Stack. [Max: It’s impossible for me to hear him as anyone other than Humphrey Bogart after Lois calls him “Sam Spade”.]

We’ve mentioned previously Jackson Guice’s tendency to use photo reference for his characters.  In this issue, Superman looks a lot like Jason Patric to me, who would have made a pretty great Superman had there been movies being made in this time.

I also appreciated this issue explaining both the physical and metaphysical reasons Superman was able to return—and that there’s no back door to the story—if Superman ever died again, he would be unable to return.  

#superman #roger stern #jackson guice #denis rodier #supergirl #justice league #guy gardner #rampage #eradicator #doctor occult #pa kent #ma kent #bibbo bibbowski #S.T.A.R. Labs #cat grant #captain marvel #roger stern plays the long game #nice

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

When the Party's Over

Author's Note:

Welp. This happened? It's a Bucky x Reader oneshot inspired by the song "when the party's over" by Billie Eilish. It's my first attempt at writing for Bucky, and also my first attempt at angst? Please let me know what y'all think!

Once again a big THANK YOU to @twentytwohearts for beta-ing this fic for me!

TW: injuries, death, mentions of anxiety/grief/PTSD

Lyrics are BOLD

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

I've learned to lose you, can't afford to

Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin'

But nothin' ever stops you leavin'

    It was supposed to be a routine mission -- in and out in an hour or two. The whole team had come along, but that was more a formality than anything else. The ride over on the Quinjet had been almost jovial; jokes and cheerful conversation clashing harshly with the reality of what we were going to do. It was a sad reality of our line of work, but the compartmentalization helped all of us get through the day without going too insane. 

Y/N had been sitting in her usual place by my side, head resting comfortably atop my shoulder and fingers entangled with mine. Her thumb rubbed soft circles into the palm of my flesh hand as we quietly spoke. She knew better than anyone that I craved gentle touch -- especially before a mission -- that it helped keep the Soldier from making an unwelcome return. She was smart like that, sensing when I needed her the most without my ever having to say a word. It was one of the things that had drawn me to her when we first met. I was distracted by the intoxicating feel of her skin against mine and mind racing with thoughts of her and I as we soared through the sky together. If I had it my way, I'd never detangle myself from her loving touch and our hands would stay locked together like puzzle pieces forever. 

Even as I knelt beside her in the middle of a makeshift battlefield hours later her fingers were still entangled with mine, but this time both our hands were painted with a warm, sticky coat of blood.

Her blood.

She'd been struck from behind, a stray bullet taking the both of us by complete surprise. It was one of Hydra's, a massive chunk of metal designed to implode upon impact to inflict the maximum amount of damage. And damage it did. 

As soon as she'd felt the sharp pain in her back, her eyes had instantly found mine, the connection between us drawing my gaze to her. I didn't remember much else from that moment apart from the roar of fury and fear that'd ripped from my throat as my mind went blank with panic. I don't even know how I'd made my way to her through all the people in the way, all I remember is the sheer horror that encased me as I sprinted to her fast crumpling form.

I managed to catch her just before she hit the hard ground, my arms wrapping her securely against my chest as her hands blindly hunted for mine. I cradled her gently with my metal arm as my flesh hand gave her blood covered fingers the hold she'd been searching for. She smiled slightly at the feel of my flesh against hers as I scanned her wildly, looking for the source of her bleeding. 

The bullet had entered through her back, the impact opening the area around her stomach and exposing most of her internal organs to the outside of her body. Her once round, healthy face was turning sickly pale at an alarming rate -- her chest heaving with the effort it took her to breathe. She shivered against my chest, mumbling almost inaudibly.

"I'm cold."

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

Unlike most of the team, Y/N was quiet; she didn't speak much, but when she did her words always made an impact. She seemed to hang back from the group -- preferring to assess those around her with her sharp eyes rather than fill the space with meaningless chatter. I too preferred to stay on the outskirts of a crowd, and it was there that I first found her clear, Y/E/C orbs studying me with a look of curious innocence on her face. It didn't take long after that day for me to realize that she'd been unconsciously moving closer and closer to me as she stared. 

Back then I was still struggling daily with flashbacks and moments when the Soldier took control of my mind, but I never seemed to lose control when Y/N was around. A fact which baffled me to no end, I couldn't come up with a rational explanation for the wave of calm that overtook me whenever she was near. She'd never spoken a word to me, nor I to her, and yet I found myself impossibly drawn to her -- like a moth to a flame. I was so perplexed I'd even asked Steve if that was part of her abilities, mood or mental manipulation of some kind. Steve had just chuckled and explained that Y/N didn't in fact have any special abilities. She was just another master assassin, her skills on par with Natasha's or Clint's. 

Though the information wasn't exactly useful to me in terms of figuring out the strange connection I felt towards her, I found myself gravitating towards Y/N whenever she was present. Eventually we began exchanging small pleasantries; mine awkward and uncomfortable and hers quiet and sweet. The pleasantries soon turned to long, drawn out conversations about anything and everything. We spent hours just talking well into the night; I found myself opening up to her like I'd never been able to do with anyone else. There was just something about her presence that made me feel calm and secure. I told her things I'd never shared with anyone, not even Steve. Things about the Soldier, about Hydra. At first, I worried that she would judge me or run away screaming at the horrible things I'd seen and done. 

But she didn't. 

She'd never even flinched as I recounted the atrocities I'd been a part of. What's more, she firmly reminded me over and over that I wasn't in control back then, and reassured me in ways no one had before. She made me feel safe, calm without seeming like she was even trying. I felt like I was locked in some kind of trance whenever she was around -- like I was wrapped in a cocoon of safety, finally free from the memories and guilt from my past. 

Incredibly, she seemed to feel just as safe around me as I did her. It was impossible for me to fathom any reason that someone as pure and kind as her would want anything to do with someone like me -- a monster. But whenever I said anything to that effect she just giggled and waved my concerns off. She always made sure to tell me how safe she felt with me around, how drawn she felt to me. 

Before too long we'd fallen into a relationship the likes of which I could never have dreamed of. We fit into one another's lives like pieces of a puzzle, and after a while I wondered how I'd ever made it through a single day without her by my side. She was my rock, my whole world, and I would do anything to protect her. 

Don't you know too much already?

I'll only hurt you if you let me

Call me friend, but keep me closer (Call me back)

And I'll call you when the party's over

Some protector I was. 

Emotions flew through my body like hurricane winds -- each cutting through me as they passed. Fear, panic, sadness, guilt: none settling for long enough to take precedent over the others. My breathing was erratic, my entire body practically vibrating with the need to do something, anything. 

She laid in my arms, looking more like a small child than any assassin should have the right to. Her breathing was slowing by the minute, and there was a look of fear in her Y/E/C eyes that made the panic bubble back up in my chest. She looked terrified and her hand gripped mine tighter as she gasped for breath. Her lips moved wordlessly for a few moments and I shook my head. 

"It's okay doll, don't try and speak now," I cooed softly. My hand briefly left hers to move delicately through her knotted curls. The familiar, comforting act happened naturally -- my arm had no need to consult with my brain before it began soothing it's way through her hair. Which was good because my brain wasn't good for much at the moment. The effect on Y/N was immediate, and her eyelids fluttered shut with the small action. Though I normally revelled in the effects my touch could have on her, I was overcome with a surge of panic at my inability to see her eyes. 

"Y/N, doll, please. I need you to open up those pretty eyes okay? Keep them right on me sweetheart," I practically begged, sobs threatening to break through at any time and voice cracking. I needed to see her eyes. Needed to know she was still with me.

She complied with my request, though I could tell it took a lot of effort on her part. Her normally clear eyes tracked along my body with difficulty and I could tell she was struggling to focus. Finally her eyes met mine and I could see the tears that'd pooled within her lids begin to fall as she gazed at me. Her hand moved weakly around my chest, seemingly searching for something, until her soft flesh met with the side of my face. I felt the wet trail of blood her fingers left behind as they caressed my cheek. I couldn't be bothered to care about the blood, too focused on the feel of her gentle hand and the love-struck expression on her face. 

"Bucky." her voice was broken, softer than I'd ever heard. 

My mind was racing with all the possible outcomes, every bit of the first aid and battle wound training escaping me. I was so immersed in my attempts to shift through the torrent of thoughts and emotions in my mind that I hardly noticed the team as they gathered around me. Evidently the battle was pretty much over, and everyone was slowly filtering over to the spot where Y/N and I were hunched over. For the first time since I'd locked eyes with her this afternoon I felt a small flutter of hope worm it's way into my chest. 

Tony was here. Banner was here. Surely they'd know how to help, what to do. They'd save her. 

I turned from Y/N's shivering form long enough to glance at Steve where he stood next to Tony. Their expressions were grim, mouths set in a thin line and eyes fixed on her injuries.

Neither would quite meet my desperate gaze. Natasha's eyes were glossed over with unshed tears as she stared at Y/N. She padded over, kneeling down beside us gently. She surveyed the wounds marring Y/N with the eyes of a trained soldier. I held my breath as she assessed her, unable to think or do anything until I was given more information. 

Clint stood just behind her with a hand on Peter's shoulder, his face stoic and eyes looking as if he was a million miles away. Peter had never looked more his age. His young face was contorted into an expression that was a mix of fear, sadness, and shock. If I had to bet on it, I don't think he'd be standing upright if it weren't for Clint's grip on him. Bruce hung back from the group and looked as if he was teetering between going green or getting sick. Thor's massive frame towered behind all the rest, his head bowed in respect as he looked sadly over the two of us. 

"Tash…" Y/N croaked. Natasha gazed down at her with a tiny, sorrowful smile. She stroked her matted and bloody hair fondly with one hand as her other quickly injected her with a small syringe. 

"Я здесь, моя милая девушка. Я здесь." the redhead cooed soothingly. "It won't hurt anymore."

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. She couldn't mean what I thought she did. It couldn't happen. 

She stood slowly from her place, walking away slowly before ending up next to Peter. Her hand raised to his other shoulder and her head bowed as her tears began to fall. 

 My head snapped desperately between the faces of the team, needing someone to do something. 

"Stark, Banner, someone please help!" I shouted, angry at their lack of urgency. This was Y/N's life we were talking about. Someone needed to do something, needed to take her somewhere, fast. But no one moved. 

"Buck…" Steve murmured. He shook his head, defeated as tears sprang to fill his lids as well. He swallowed thickly, as if he was unsure of what to say next, the small action solidifying the twinge of doubt that lingered in the back of my mind. 

"No…" I choked out, sobs escaping my chest without permission. I gripped Y/N tighter against my body as I cried -- my tears landing on her near-motionless body and mingling with the fresh blood that covered her frame. 

The one small flame of hope I had left was extinguishing rapidly at the realization of what their lack of action meant. Y/N was going to die -- here -- in my arms, and I was powerless to stop it. Guilt and despair overtook my body as I wept in ugly choking gasps, the feelings making each limb feel as if it weighed thousands of pounds.

I was only brought out of my own head by the familiar feeling of gentle fingers dancing across my face. Y/N stared up at me as she caressed the stubble of my chin, eyes devoid of the fear and panic they once held. The feelings had simply vanished -- her irises now holding nothing but sheer love and determination. I was overwhelmed by just how beautiful she was. How much I loved her. I steadied myself, trying desperately to think of something to say. It was baffling really, to simultaneously have so much I yearned to tell her, and yet my brain couldn't muster even a single word at the moment. 

"Hey there handsome, why the long face?" she chuckled weakly. I laughed humorously at the phrase, my mind briefly drifting to a different time. A different place. 

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

"Bucky?" a call came from down the hall. Even from a distance I could instantly recognize the owner of melodic voice. Y/N. Her feet padded so softly down the hall, someone with normal hearing wouldn't have been able to detect her steps. Though I recognized the familiar sounds of both her voice and her footsteps approaching me, I didn't bother to move. 

I was currently sitting upright on the armchair located in the furthest corner of my room, hands gripping the arms tightly and eyes trained on the floor beneath my boots. The lights were all off and I was waging a silent war within myself. I'd just returned from a particularly grueling mission -- as if the fight wasn't gritty and difficult enough to start, the target was a Hydra base. A base packed to the brim with the idolizing scum, all bristling for a fight. Lately, I'd been more in control after these types of raids; I was able to separate myself from what I was seeing and keep the Soldier at bay. 

But not tonight.

Tonight I'd encountered one of the foot-soldiers that'd help manipulate and torture me. One of the men who'd held me down in those early days when I'd still had some fight left in me. The second I'd laid eyes on him, the memories flooded my mind like rocks in a landslide. I slipped completely out of control from there on out -- I laid waste to everyone and everything around me like a robot, like I was trained. Bucky Barnes was lost completely, and the Winter Soldier was in complete command of me. 

The Soldier had taken over me before -- the appearances becoming more distant the longer I'd been away from Cryo. But not like this. Never like this. 

Before when the Soldier took control, I'd lost consciousness entirely; mind blacked-out as he ravaged the poor souls caught in the crosshairs. Tonight, I was entirely lucid -- trapped inside as I watched the Soldier pioneer me like a puppet. I had taken a back seat within my own body. 

      If Steve hadn't been close -- if he wasn't so damn good at recognizing when I was no longer in control, who knows what would've happened. If I'd ever snapped back out of it. 

No. 

The thought drifted through my mind amidst the chaos and memories threatening to claw their way back to the surface. Even now, hours later, I wasn't entirely certain if I was completely in control. Y/N wasn't safe. The Soldier taunted me from within, yearning to be set free. To lay waste to everyone in sight. To finally meet the precious Y/N…

"NO!" I roared. The sound was feral, ripped straight from my core with the mere implication that the Soldier would get anywhere near my Y/N. My hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly I could faintly recognize the sound of the frame cracking under my touch. He couldn't. I wouldn't let him. 

Desperation and panic overwhelmed my system as I raced to find a way to keep her from him -- from me. Her footsteps echoed closer, close enough now that I was certain even someone with average hearing could hear. 

"Y/N, don't! I'm not...STOP!" I choked. My fists released the chair roughly, splinters of broken fiber and wood clunking wildly against the floor as I jumped to my feet. Boots thudding across the floor, I made short work of the space and moved into the doorway. I intended to slam the door shut -- hopefully not hard enough to break the damn thing, but fast enough to stop her from getting in. Or to stop Him from getting out. I wasn't quite sure.

Regardless of the motive behind it, the door needed to close. To lock -- to put as much in between Y/N and I as I could manage. But as fast as I was, as fast as I could be, it wasn’t fast enough. 

Y/N’s sweet face filled the doorframe at the exact moment that my foot took the final step towards the threshold. I froze, internally divided and mind filled with so many thoughts that they blurred into a mere hum of static. The only discernible feelings I could make out from the buzz were panicked, frenzied. 

“Bucky…” she murmured, voice quiet as a mouse creeping through a home full of sleeping occupants. Breathing erratic and fists clenched painfully at my sides, I wildly stared at her gentle stance with horror. I was completely frozen -- unable to sift through the panic and dread raging within my head long enough to make a move. 

She looked as she always did: stance casual and facial expression peacefully neutral. I'd been fortunate enough in recent weeks to become familiar with all the intricacies of her beautiful features -- her nonchalant demeanor was often a trick, a facade she carefully constructed over years of brutal combat and torture. She was a spy to the core. But her mask had cracks, faults that only those who truly knew her could detect. A twitch of the eye or the finger was all it took for some to detect her hesitation -- but I knew her better than even that. 

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Any trained soldier or criminal would tell you that they were absolutely right -- that anyone worth a damn could gather intel or win a fight based on the enemies eyes alone. I was no different. It was a fundamental fact of life that no one could truly hide the look in their eyes, and I could instantly determine most people's moods and intentions with just a brief glance. But, as I was slowly learning was the case for most fundamental truths, Y/N was a bit of an exception. 

It wasn't that I couldn't decipher the meaning lurking behind her Y/E/C orbs. On the contrary, I had an easier time picking out her thoughts from a glance than for most people. No, the difference with Y/N was that when I looked into her eyes I didn't just discover her true emotions. I felt them.

Currently, as we stood locked in a heated staring contest, her eyes held no trace of fear, no defensive alarm. Most people like us always mentally had one foot out the door -- an escape plan formulated out of sheer habit whenever we entered a room. She didn't. Y/N stood before me, completely devoid of any of her natural instincts as she surveyed me. She wasn't afraid.

She was worried. 

"Hey there handsome, why the long face?"

Her soft voice broke the tense silence that'd enveloped us, a twinge of humor evident in her tone. She knew all about the mission, about what I was fighting against, and yet she stood before me and teased. If I wasn't so god-damned terrified, I think I would've laughed. 

"Y/N, you have to -- I'm not...I can't --" I sputtered uselessly, praying to whatever higher power there was that she would understand. Desperately wishing that she would turn abruptly and leave. 

She was silent for a moment, eyes scanning me with soft contemplation. Her stance changed slightly -- her shoulders set back with determination and hands lifting slowly towards my face. I jerked backwards to avoid contact, eyes desperately pleading for her to understand. 

Her hand paused in midair, caught halfway between my body and hers. My breathing was still erratic and my chest was heaving with the effort it took to regulate myself. Instead of turning around and leaving like I desperately wanted her to do she took another step forward towards my shaking form. Deliberate and calculated, she stalked me slowly like a police officer approaching a suicidal suspect. My heart crashed wildly against my chest and the cacophony of thoughts in my head somehow became even louder. She couldn't -- why wasn't she stopping? 

"I've never been scared of you Bucky." she stated, voice impossibly soft yet firm. "Not for a moment. Not even when you're scared of yourself."

She inched slowly closer as she spoke until she was a hairbreadth away from touching me. My already overloaded senses were flooded with her presence. The sweet, familiar smell of her skin wafted up to my nose -- the scent a mix of lavender shampoo rising from her freshly washed hair and her own unique aroma. The wave of calm that seemed to envelope me whenever she was near began to seep into me slowly. The tornado of thoughts and panicked feelings hadn't completely subsided, but they began to slowly fade away as she got closer. 

Her gentle palm came into contact with the skin of my cheek with a feather-light touch. The gradual wave of peace that'd begun to encroach within my troubled mind suddenly clashed against the swirl of panic and fear inside my head at the soft feeling of her hand against my face. I gasped harshly, all the breath abruptly stolen from my lungs as the silent war within my mind came to a peak. The Soldier roared in fury -- livid at the attack against his release. 

A sob ripped through my chest as I felt my mind slowly become entirely my own once more. I lurched forward, arms wrapping tightly around Y/N's waist and face burying itself in the crook of her neck. Though no other words were spoken between us for the moment, Y/N didn't need any verbal cues in order to seemingly understand what I needed. One of her arms wrapped firmly around my body and wrenched me closer to hers as I cried. The other hand found its way into the hairs on the back of my head and began taking through them gently. I must have been disgusting at the moment; I hadn't done anything since returning to the tower, and I was certain she could feel the layers of grime, sweat, and blood that coated my skin. If she did, she didn't let it show. She cooed soft words of reassurance and love into my ears as she held me. 

Eventually, she maneuvered our still conjoined bodies to the edge of my bed and gently guided us to a seated position. My sobs were starting to slow as she continued to soothe my shaking form. Fat tears kept rolling down my cheeks steadily, but I was able to control the sounds and cries as I slowly calmed. Y/N's gentle coos also started to slow as I began to quiet down, though her fingers didn't stop their soft dance through my hair. 

"It's okay sweet boy, it's all over now," she whispered against the crown of my head, lips brushing against me with each gentle word. "You're okay Bucky, I'm here, I've got you."

 I let out a shaky breath as the sweet sounds of her voice flowed smoothly into my ears and I processed what she truly meant. A sudden wave of exhaustion overcame my body -- keeping myself upright and my eyes opened became more of a challenge than it should have. Ever perceptive, Y/N seemed to realize the struggle I was facing. 

She gently rolled my head off her shoulder and started to stand. A bolt of fear ran through my chest at the lack of contact, and my hand shot out like a bullet to grab her wrist. 

"Stay." I managed to croak out. My voice was hoarse, throat raw and aching from overuse. She looked at me with an expression of pure understanding, eyes sparkling with compassion and reassurance. 

"I'm not going far, don't worry," she soothed. Her hand came to rest over the top of mine and her thumb rubbed small circles over the tops of my bruised and bloodied knuckles. "I'll be right back, just lie down for a minute and rest, okay?"

Though my stomach still wrestled with the panic and desperation of wanting to keep her close, I allowed her to pry my fingers from her wrist and walk away. I slid my body back onto the bed and laid as she'd requested with childlike obedience. My eyes shut instantly as I allowed myself to rest but I fought against the sleep that threatened to overcome me. My half-asleep brain faintly registered the sounds of a tap running and the hum of the bathroom light flickering on. 

It wasn't long before I heard the soft padding of Y/N's footsteps drawing near and felt the bed dip under her weight. 

"Can you sit up for a moment?" her gentle voice wafted through my ears like honey. Drained and utterly out of it, I obeyed and slowly sat up. 

"Good. I'm going to help you, okay?"

I felt the warm, wet sensation of a wash rag being swiped carefully across the skin of my face. Internally moaning at the feeling, I sat patiently while Y/N carefully washed all the grime and dried blood from my body. My shirt had been shed not long after I'd come back -- in my half-crazed state it'd felt too small, suffocating.

She carefully swept the cloth over every inch of available skin I had. Under normal circumstances I would've been embarrassed, both of my bare skin littered with scars and of the outpouring of emotion I'd displayed, but I didn't feel even a shred of self-consciousness at the moment. No, whatever small bit of consciousness I could muster in my tired body was lasered into Y/N. Her gentle fingers danced across my skin, sending tiny shockwaves of electricity through me. I was overpowered by the smell of her unique scent surrounding me, by the aura of affection and safety she radiated around us. Words couldn't come close to describing the peace and contentment I felt surrounding me -- it was as if the entire world had melted away around us. I wasn't thinking about the Soldier, the mission, nothing. Hell I was halfway gone from being able to recall my own name at the moment. My senses and thoughts were entirely and wholeheartedly consumed by one single thing. 

Her. 

After some time, although I had no idea how much, Y/N finished her task and retreated to the bathroom to put away the rag and water basin. I shivered slightly at the sensation of cool air hitting my now clean skin and the lack of contact with Y/N's gentle hands. Unsure what to do, I sat lamely on the edge of my bed and waited as patiently as I could for Y/N to return. 

She exited the ensuite and flicked the light off behind her as she did. Even without the benefit of light I was still surrounded by the comforting embrace of her presence. The bed dipped slightly as she sat down, the bare skin of my arms prickling with sparks as her body settled next to me. She silently removed her shoes and began to scootch up the bed. 

Almost robotically, I copied her actions, kicking my boots off roughly and joining her near the headboard. Though I couldn't see her well in the dark of the room I felt her arms open wide in silent invitation. I readily accepted the comfort she offered, lying my head across her chest and arms wrapping around her middle firmly. I relaxed instantly into her embrace as she wrapped one hand around the back of my head and the other began running aimless patterns across my bare back. 

No other words were spoken between us that night. Sleep consumed me quickly as she held me and she followed not long after. The rest of our time was spent wrapped in each others arms, her offering quiet comfort and me reveling in the feeling of being protected for once. It became a ritual after each mission and most every night for us after that -- to lay in one another's arms as we slept. 

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

Let's just let it go

Let me let you go

Time was running short, and I could tell I didn't have much time left with Y/N. Her breaths were growing more shallow by the second, the space in between them growing longer. Her eyes were still locked in to mine but the sparkle that they usually held was fading with each passing moment. There was a hole in my chest that ached as I struggled to hold myself together. I want sure exactly how much longer she was going to be able to hold on, but I didn't want her final memories to be filled with me breaking down. I shuddered violently with an ominous chill as I fought against the tears that'd collected in my eyes. 

My hands were busy, cradling Y/N gently against my chest and running though her hair. My lips brushed softly against the crown of her head, and I mumbled tender words that I hoped were somehow soothing. I slowly rocked us back and forth as I cooed, the warm flow of blood from her stomach squelching against the harsh dirt of the ground as I did. I peppered as many kisses as I could to whatever skin was available: her cheeks, forehead, nose, hairline. She didn't make much noise apart from a few small hums of contentment here or there as my lips connected to her skin. After what felt like an eternity and only a second all at once I felt her body begin to fall slack. Panic shot through my chest, and I clutched her tighter against my chest. 

"I'm so sorry doll." I whispered desperately. "I should've...I can't... I'm sorry."

I rocked her faster and held her tighter, hoping against all rationality that if I just held on tight enough that I could stop what was inevitably about to happen. I could no longer control my tears -- they flowed rapidly from my eyes in big fat droplets into the soft skin of her neck. 

"Bucky…" she muttered. Her voice was nearly inaudible and as I pulled reluctantly from my position against the crook of her neck I could instantly tell that she was nearly gone. I sucked in a breath and held it, entirely unsure as to what to do or say. Never one to let me struggle for long, Y/N smiled her truest, most beautiful smile up at me and raised her pale hand weakly to rest on my face. 

"I lo -- I love you. Don't be sorry. I love you." she murmured. Her voice sounded impossibly fragile. Even for as soft spoken as she could be at times I'd never heard her sound so small. But I wasn't thinking about her tone in that moment or what it meant -- my entire being was consumed by overwhelming feelings of adoration for the woman in my arms. Even with what could literally be her dying breath she was determined to express not her pain, regrets, or final wishes. No, she was using her last moments to tell me that she loved me. I choked down a sob from deep within my chest before replying. 

"I know doll. I love you too Y/N. I love you so damned much." 

She smiled faintly at the admission. Her lips quirked up only the smallest fraction, but I felt the familiar feelings of affection and love fluttering in my stomach as she did. The smile remained on her face as I felt her body go limp within my arms. She drifted away just like that: lying delicately across my lap with her head resting lightly against my chest. If I hadn't known better, I might have thought she was simply sleeping. Her eyes were still open -- the irises dull and pale, their natural sparkle gone in an instant. 

She was gone.

I shivered violently, crushing her now lifeless body against my own tightly as sobs of pure anguish ripped from my lungs. I was utterly consumed with grief -- my chest ached with the weight of my despair, the indescribable pain and loss rooting me to my spot. I stroked her bloodied and matted hair with shaking fingers and took deep breaths of her lingering scent, desperately trying to commit all I could about her to memory.

I could faintly hear the sound of sniffles and the shuffling of boots against the rocky ground as the team shifted around. Life was still working around me as I held Y/N's lifeless body, though it felt as if my entire world had stopped with the last beat of her heart. A hand grasped me from behind, grip tight on my shoulder. 

"Buck," Steve's voice drifted in my ears "It's time. We...we have to go home".

Unconsciously, I gripped Y/N tighter in my arms. I didn't move an inch, terrified of what I'd face once I did. Steve's hand squeezed my shoulder, and though I couldn't see his face from my position I could practically hear the grim determination he exuded. He'd been close with Y/N too; Steve had known her long before me, and their friendship had only grown as we'd gotten closer. Deep inside I knew this must've been difficult for him too, but I couldn't muster the strength to empathize at the moment. 

"I can't-- Steve I…" I sobbed. I didn't budge from my position. I couldn't explain the panic I felt; as broken and devastated as I was, I knew that as soon as I got up that things would be irrevocably changed. Steve didn't respond, nor did he move, but I could tell that he understood. 

We stayed like that for an immeasurable length of time, me sobbing and cradling Y/N's lifeless body and Steve silently standing behind us. Eventually the weight in my chest nestled deeper in my body, sadness dissipating like a mist into every fiber of my body. I felt numb, disassociated from life as I robotically stood. I gathered Y/N in my arms and silently began the walk to the jet. 

The sound of my boots crunching against the gravel was deafening as we walked, the once loud area of the battlefield deadly quiet. Y/N felt feather-light in my arms compared to the crushing weight of the grief that had made its home in my chest. But even that weight was nothing compared to the weight of the small box encased in the pocket of my tac pants. The tiny box that once held so much promise now weighed heavy against my leg with each step. The tiny silver and diamond band inside stripped of any hope, just like I was. 

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

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[jasmine2042003]

Nico di Angelo x reader (soulmate AU)

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My first Tumblr post of Nico di Angelo, a soulmate AU, specifically pain. I read an avengers x reader soulmate AU similar, all scars and pain (including emotional) is felt by the soulmate. Depending on how this does, I might make this into a series, as for now, it will be a two or three part one shot basically. Enjoy the chapter xxx

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Nico pov

Finding my soulmate seemed to be an impossible task. On top of the fact that I was generally unlikable, I pushed away anybody who could possibly care for me and finally, the nail in the coffin (non-intended death puns), whilst my body was sixteen, my brain was seventy! Anyone who could have possibly been my soulmate probably died during World War Two, like I should have. I looked around at my friends, all of them in a couple, already having found their other halves. Percy had Annabeth, Jason had Piper, Frank had my sister, which I still wasn’t massively happy about. Everyone had someone, but me. 

At least, unlike Percy, I would be able to tell who my soulmate is. I mean come on, Percy knew Annabeth for years before he got it through his seaweed brain who she was. Before anyone asks anything, yes I had a crush on Percy, that is definitely over now, you didn’t get in the way of soulmates, that was like giving the three fates the middle finger. Anyway, I sat there in my natural gloom, making little skeletal things, partially because it was kind of comforting, but mostly because it freaked Leo out and that little elf had pissed me off for the last time. 

“Dude, come on!” Leo shouted, alerting some of the nearby campers, “You can’t still be angry at me,” I chuckled menacingly and raised an eyebrow at him. “You wanna bet?” I asked with an evil smirk, a trademark of my dad’s that I had perfected. I touched the point of my inky sword to the patch of dead grass near Leo’s feet, a skeletal hand reaching out to grab his ankle, causing him to screech like a five year old girl and run away. I carried on my evil laugh, my sister shaking her head at me, “Neeks, you need to stop that, he doesn’t mean it, he wanted to make you smile, something other than that creepy smirk that you’re doing right now.” Hazel had a point, I guess. That doesn’t mean I was going to listen. 

I shrugged my shoulders lightly, my smirk falling off my face when I saw, yet another pair of campers, discovering their soulmate. Hazel followed my gaze and looked at me, “Hey Neeks, can I talk to you?” She asked, I nodded and followed my little sister to some shade under Thalia’s Tree. I sighed and looked into Hazel’s golden eyes confused, “You’re not about to tell me that you and Beast Boy are getting married right?” I joked, letting a small smile slip through my blank facade. She giggled and shook her head, her face lit up when she laughed, I loved when I could make my sister smile, it made me feel like I wasn’t a completely useless big bro. 

Her face slipped into a more serious note, “I know you think you aren’t going to find them Nico,” Oh here we go, ‘Nico you’ll find her, it just takes some time,’ I didn’t need to hear this again. “If I was able to find Frank in a world that I shouldn’t have even been alive in, I’m sure the great Nico di Angelo can find someone from the twenties who was in the same boat as you,” She continued, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. I sighed and nodded along, the truth is, I was fine without a soulmate. I mean, I haven’t even felt anything from my soulmate, not since I was eight years old. I got a scrape on my knee from absolutely nothing, Bianca then decided to tell me about soulmates.

Flashback~

I felt the tears cascading down my face, my cheeks red and my hands clutching my bleeding knee. Mom and dad were talking quietly in the corner, their hands moving as they spoke, a trait my sister and I had picked up. Bianca ran over to me once she realised that I was hurt and upset, she lifted my pants leg to the knee and had a look. She gave me the classic mother look, “Aww *povero bambino,” She muttered under her breath, “Looks like your little partner in crime is playing rough,” She tried explaining, only for me to look on confused. She sighed, picked me up, brushed me off and sat me on the sofa next to her, kids running around the hotel, laughing and cheering. 

“Nico, when you were born, there were special people who chose the perfect person for you,” She started, now I was even more confused, like, someone who can beat me at mythomagic? Someone I can play games with? Bianca continued, “This perfect person is the person you will eventually fall in love with,” I must have made a face because Bianca chuckled, “Come on squirt, you’ll get used to it,” I highly doubt that. “Anyways, when your soulmate gets hurt, their pain and their injury, will reflect on you,” She said, patting my knee. So whatever my soulmate feels, I feel it too. I have so many questions, does emotional pain count? Bianca had to leave for school, so I had to save my questions for later.

Bianca gave me a kiss on the forehead and left me with mom and dad. I sat around for a while before getting a great idea. “Hey mom, can I borrow a marker?” I asked her sweetly, she smiled and gave me a bright red, washable marker. I went into the corner and sat down, crossed my legs and took the cap off of the pen, holding it between my teeth. I rolled up my sleeve and thought about what I would write. Might as well go simple, “Hi, my name’s Nico!” I waited and waited for a response. It was days before they finally responded, “Hello, I’m (y/n),” I smiled, (y/n), what a beautiful name.

Flashback over~

I smiled at Hazel and gave her a quick peck on the forehead, “Look at my little sister giving me life advice,” I cooed. She giggled a bit and pushed me away. “Shut up, I can be adult if I want to be, I’m only four years younger than you technically!” I smiled, a small smile, but she was one of the only people to have achieved that feat in six years. I chuckled and pulled her close to my chest again, the only human contact I’ve had in a while, most people would get freaked out by me hugging someone, but I’d already lost one sister, I refuse to lose a second. Hazel hugged me back, her head hardly came up to my chin, she pulled back and pushed me towards big house, “You need to go, Chiron said he was looking for you,” I nodded and headed for the big house.

Before I had made it past the cabins, I felt pinching on my arms, like needles, it didn’t really hurt but I was kind of confused. I’m not sure what I did, I hadn’t hurt myself and I hadn’t felt anything from my soulmate in decades. I lifted my hoodie sleeves, there were little specks of blood, I stopped in my tracks. Okay, I know I don’t have scurvy, so the only thing left is my soulmate, (y/n). It might seem weird that I remembered her name, we barely spoke, I knew her name and that she was my age, or at least she was when I was eight. I stared at the spots of red on my arms for while, until one was grabbed by a large hand. I looked up startled, meeting Chiron’s worried face. “Nico my boy, you’ll want to see this,” He muttered before leading me away from the big house and towards the infirmary, passing my friends as we rushed over. 

Stepping into the infirmary, the entire place was in chaos. Apollo campers were running around, grabbing things, bandages, medication, bottles and needles. What the Hades was going on? That’s when I heard it. Screaming. Crying. A girl. For some reason it hurt me, all of a sudden, my chest tightened and my breathe became heavier and more laboured. Why was I suddenly feeling this way? I was in Camp, there is nothing to be frightened of. I tried to calm myself down, the feeling going away and being replaced with pure confusion. “Chiron what’s going on?” I looked over at the centaur, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, tension and stress radiating off the millennia old man. “We found someone a few years ago that we think might have something to do with you,” He said quietly. 

Why would this person have something to do with me? I followed Chiron into a back room of the infirmary. I saw Apollo cabin’s best healers working around a single person on a cot in the centre of the room. There was the girl, I’m assuming she was the one that was screaming, she was gorgeous. (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, the most innocent and adorable confused expression on her sweet face. What was I saying? I had no idea who this person was. “Nico,” Chiron started, “When we first found her, she had writing on her arm, this is a long shot, there are many people with your name, but we wanted to be sure.” Will Solace from the Apollo cabin, and a genuinely good friend of mine brought an accurately drawn painting that looked like a photograph of the girl’s arm.

There were two lines of words, one in red marker and the other in black. “Hi, my name’s Nico!” and “Hello, I’m (y/n),” Holy shit. It was her. “(y/n),” I whispered quietly. Chiron looked at me inquisitively, “You know her?” He asked, I nodded in response. “She’s my soulmate,” I muttered, even more quietly, causing Chiron’s eyes to widen. As if in a trance I walked over to her side, grabbing a pen on my way to her. I sat in a chair next to her, looking her in the eyes. Her beautiful (e/c) eyes, they sparkled as if containing ground diamonds. Dam it Nico, focus! Her eyes seemed to be stuck to mine as mine were on hers, I took the cap off the pen and held it between my teeth, just as I had all those years ago. I gently grasped her left forearm, watching her face in concern as I wrote a few words, before gesturing for her to look down.

(y/n) pov

I gasped as I awoke. Panic filling my body as I looked around the unfamiliar room. A white cot sat in a room with wooden floors and walls, flowers and medical supplies were sat on the tables around me and sunshine flooded through the open curtains. I looked down at my arms, needles and tubes poking out of my skin. In my panic, a few of them had been pulled out, causing spots of blood to begin forming on the surface of my skin. I suddenly looked up when I heard the door open. A girl carrying fresh flowers walked in, meeting my eyes and gasping at my consciousness. How long had I been asleep for? All I remember is running through the woods before seeing an archway, some writing I couldn’t see, before passing out. 

Before I knew it, half a dozen more people had entered the room, trying desperately to calm me down. I shook my head erratically and moved away from the groping hands. They were all teenagers, ranging from maybe fourteen to nineteen, that made me think. How old was I? That was the moment I had felt intense waves of serenity wash over, it felt strange though, as if they weren’t my own feelings. I had no time to rationalise that thought as the door opened once more, revealing a man, or at least his upper half was man, his lower half however had a horse’s figure and legs. A centaur, a voice told me reassuringly, I knew I could trust this man. Behind him, walked a boy and he was beautiful. Dark, messy hair that was long but not unkempt, onyx eyes that were intense and full of an emotion that I couldn’t read, as if there were many emotions rolled into one.

He looked up at me and locked my eyes with his, surprise etched into the linings of his pale face. I couldn’t bear to pull my eyes away from his own as he walked over to me slowly, picking up something I couldn’t see. He sat in a chair next to my bed, his handsome features even more defined up close, I noticed the object he had grabbed was a pen. He took the cap off and held it in his teeth, a very hot move if you ask me. He looked at me in concern as he took my left forearm, writing a few words down, all the while looking me in the eyes to make sure I was alright. After he had finished, he leaned back and gestured for me to look at my arm, biting his lower lip gently. I looked down and gasped, ‘Hello (y/n), its me, Nico’. I looked up at him, a laugh of relief escaping the smile I had on my face. Looking at his arm as he pulled up his sleeve, the writing reflected perfectly of his porcelain skin. 

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Let me know if this is something I should continue. Leave a comment or a like if you want and feel free to find me on Wattpad (Crazy-Otaku-demigod). Thanks for reading this you guys xxx

Final Word Count:  2393

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