#and before you say anything yes...I know with the jar...the implications... i know and i dont care at this point lol

[kei-emji]

Can you guess the current hyper fixation?

[rosewaterandivy]

at the fever pitch

summary: an incident at Hawkins Lab and a fever you can't sweat out. well, sweat out on your own at least.

pairing: s.h. x f!reader

W.C.: 3.9k

warnings: NSFW 18+MDNI, cursing, dub-con because sex pollen (hello!) , my usual brand of filth (protected p-i-v, overstimulation, switch steve & reader ig, soft!dom elements), improper lab safety

a/n: spruced up this bad boy for reasons unknown; enjoy! 💜

🎶 I got the holy rope, I felt the fever grip me when I needed it most🎶

“Well, anyone can lie back and think of England,” Eddie says, gravel crunching under his shoes as you wrench open the car door.

“As if,” you scoff, waiting for the ignition to catch. “That’s un-American pal.”

He rolls his eyes, an unlit cigarette between his lips. “Apologies Princess, I’ll add myself to the Blacklist immediately.”

“The Boston Tea Party, at least,” you remedy, pulling out of Forest Hills. “The Constitutional Convention.”

“Powdered wigs.”

“See?” you say with a grin, “More patriotic. Less Henry the VIII.”

You let your arm drop from behind his seat, your skin sticky and damp with perspiration from the summer heat. It wasn’t even that hot yet; it was early summer at best. But this knowledge did nothing to quell the stifling warmth.

Flicking on the a/c, you fan yourself while waiting for a respite of cool air and take a hard turn onto the quiet suburban street.

All day there’s been a roiling in your gut, something you’d chalked up to resident boredom and hoped would be placated by a visit with Eddie. But even shooting the shit with your nearest and dearest wasn’t enough to keep it at bay.

You’d sweated through your clothes and had to change into some of his before decamping to the blessed cool of the Harrington house.

“Hey,” Eddie says, jarring you from your thoughts. “You’re looking a little…”

“I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

His eyes assess you, quick and curious, not markedly different from his usual glance. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and you know it’s to save himself from saying anything further.

Truth be told, you’d been a little short of temper as of late. This, in addition to your newly acquired running temperature, which was not the kind of hot you were aiming for.

“Anyway,” you say, steering the conversation back toward the matter at hand. “If I’m having sex, I don’t wanna ‘lie back’ and be able to think of anything. My brain already goes hyper-drive on its own, and I am not lookin’ to introduce that into my sex life.”

“What sex life?”

“Right, okay. Because you’re knee-deep in dick right now, sure.” A scoff slips from your lips as you pull into the drive and cut the engine. “How’s that right hand treating you?”

Eddie quips back some sort of response.

Not that you’re able to discern in, mind you. And while, yes, on occasion you’ll opt for ignoring your motor mouth of a best friend in favor of say, zoning out as a shirtless Steve Harrington strolls by, or maybe in favor of contemplating the implications of string theory, what the fuck ever.

But not this time.

In fact, you’re barely able to make it out of the car before the world decides to careen sideways and Eddie, for all his good intentions, has no choice but to call for help lest he snap his spaghetti arms in two attempting to drag you into the house.

You’d think for loading up all that gear for the band he’d be more capable, but no. Gareth, on the other hand–

“Hey,” someone says from above where you’ve chosen to lay down and die. “Where’s the fire?”

You blink your eyes open momentarily, finding a blurry sort of man-shaped thing, but it’s kind of hard to tell with the sun piercing directly into your eyes. And before you can reply, your stomach flips only to land in an unholy cramp that has you spitting, “Oh goddamnit, fuck me running!”

The blob that has to be Eddie pauses to say, “That sounds difficult, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

Muscles uncoiling after the searing pain has passed, you prop yourself up on an elbow to firmly say, “Once was more than enough, never again Munson.”

Steve, who has dropped into a squat somewhere near the vicinity of your face, furrows his brow. Apparently, sitting up has proven to be too much for your body, as you slip back with an audible thud onto the concrete. If you turn your head just so, you’d be able to see where his red shorts have ridden up his toned thighs.

You can feel your heart as it attempts to beat through your chest, as if it could make a mad dash outside the confines of your ribs. Steve lays a gentle hand on your forehead, mumbling something to himself as Eddie worries his lip.

“She been like this all day?”

“Yeah, the fever is new today. But she’s been acting weird since the last time she was at the Lab.”

Your head feels all fuzzy. Your body, which you were previously capable of operating, feels so heavy. And hot. Like you're a bag of bones and magma just swirling around, well not swirling at present, you’re very much getting cooked from the summer sun on Harrington’s driveway.

Speaking of—

You turn just as two arms slide beneath you, one at your knees and the other at your waist, and you’re lifted off the ground only to dive smack into Steve’s chest. Oh god, he smells so good.

“Okay Gumbo, come on,” He grunts as he stands up.

“It’s Gumby man, we’ve been over this.” Eddie corrects, and attempts to swing one of your arms to land at Steve’s shoulder, so you don’t fall bodily from his hold.

The two continue their conversation, as he carries you into the cool dark house. His deep voice radiating from his chest in a soothing vibration from where you rest your head. You could just melt right here, right now. Steve is warm and golden and everything right in the world.

There’s a sound of trampling feet as he sets you on the sofa, and to your great reluctance, turns to Dustin, his mouth tilting in slight disapproval. “You said nothing happened at the lab.”

Dustin shrugs in a teenage approximation of nonchalance. “For all intents and purposes, nothing did happen.”

Steve grimaces and sweeps his arm over to you. “Does that look like nothing to you?!”

His eyes finally land on where you’ve slumped across the couch. “Oh,” Dustin mutters, “That.”

“Explain.”

Eddie, by this point, has settled himself on the floor, his back reclined against the foot of the sofa, his fingers twining with yours as your eyes flutter close. _

“Oh shit!”

Turning toward Dustin on the abandoned sub-basement floor of Hawkins Lab, you raise a brow in curiosity. Knowing him, it’s probably something innocuous, like a spilled beaker or whatever.

Taking a step toward him, you hear a distinct crunching of glass, over his warnings of, “No, no, no! Don’t move!”

Too little, too late.

Beneath your sneakers lies a broken vial with its stopper intact. As you move to back away from the hazard, because Dustin would only freak out if something was hazardous, a soft plume of purple vapor rises through the air.

“Get your mask on,” you shout, “Now, Henderson!”

“But what about–”

“Just do it!”

You hear rather than see him get the gas mask on, and deeply regret leaving yours behind in the van earlier that day.

Even backing away, slowly and steadily as you were, was no help protecting you from an airborne chemical concoction. Tugging the bandana holding your hair back over your nose and mouth as some semblance of precaution, you reached out for Dustin’s hand as he traveled the wide berth around the toxin, and lit out of there.

Once outside, you pull the fabric off your face and inhale deeply. You check Dustin for any physical injuries and then make him do the concussion test, just in case. He gripes and grumbles the whole way through, but like hell are you bringing back an injured kid. He checks you as you turn around, searching for any offending purple stains, but finds nothing.

As you race the setting sun and leave Hawkins Lab in the rearview, if you look closely, you can see an abandoned sneaker and bandana thrown off to the side of the parking lot. Dustin, for all his prattling, seems fine as you drive with socked feet back to Harrington’s place.

He fiddles with the radio dials, surely fucking up whatever system Steve has in place, before settling on a local college station. You can feel his gaze studying you, looking for anything amiss. Hand flexing on the wheel, you swallow audibly, your sinuses filling with a distinct scent of sweat and laundry detergent— warm and clean as it sticks to your lungs.

Easing the car into the drive and stepping out of it, you twirl the keys before tossing them over to Steve. He’s talking to Dustin, and you can see his eyes flitting to and fro, doing the safety check that all of you subconsciously do after a mission. He smiles and claps the kid on the back, watching as he dashes inside.

He pockets his keys and turns to you. “You okay?” he asks, just as pollen tickles at your nostrils.

You nod, willing the sneeze away, eyes reddening with the effort.

“Y-you got something, just there.” He mimes brushing something from his lip. They’re pink and full, how had you never noticed that?

You mirror him, swiping at your nose, which somehow dislodges the pollen, and oh, fuck, here we go again.

He moves toward you and is in the middle of calling your name, right as you sneeze into Steve’s open mouth.

“Fuck, it’s inside me!”

He blinks and coughs. “Yeah,” he says, settling a hand on your shoulder and guiding you inside. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He smells like bedsheets and aftershave. Sweat and skin.

Your mouth waters. _

“It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad,” Steve mutters to himself as Dustin goes pink in embarrassment. “Not that bad? Whaddya call this then?!”

“An accident?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Oh my god,” He straightens up, arms crossed against his chest. “Surrounded by idiots everywhere I go.” Steve sends Dustin off for swabs or something, stopping mid-turn as he catches sight of your finger looped with Eddie’s.

“What’re you doing?”

Eddie stops tapping his foot against the carpet to look up at Steve. “Uh, holding hands?” He slows the normal cadence of his speech and overly enunciates, “What are you doing, Steve?”

“That’s not hand-holding,” he corrects, just as something hot and vicious settles at the base of his skull. “And don’t.” He bats Eddie’s hand away, watching as it falls limply to the floor. “What if she’s contagious or something?”

“Well, in that case,” he says, “It’s your mouth she sneezed in, man.”

Steve blinks but doesn’t balk.

Eddie cocks his head, eyes narrowed as he assesses Steve. And he wouldn’t say that he’s mad exactly, he’s never really seen Steve get mad— terrified and horrified, yes, but never quite angry. Truthfully, Eddie is glad he’s never had the pleasure; he’d dealt with enough belligerent and angry men, thanks.

Whatever Steve is doing… it’s different. He’s hovering, which isn’t exactly new for the guy, but it’s weird that he’s doing so around you. You’re not exactly friends; in fact, just the other day you were really on a tear about not having any clients for the summer ever since Steve became a self-avowed babysitter.

Eventually, Dustin returns with a q-tip and swabs your cheek. This is, of course, what wakes you up, snorting and grumbling while failing to suppress a full-body shiver. Eddie throws a blanket over you under the surveillance of Steve, who’s then pulled into the garage by Dustin.

It’s only after the door clicks shut that it dawns on him, and even then, Eddie thinks it’s better kept to himself. _

Steve leans against a worktable while Dustin checks the swab. There’s a lot of beakers and vials with an occasional crackle from the walkie. He doesn’t ask questions of what exactly Dustin gets up to in here, he’s better off not knowing.

Dustin mutters to himself as he gently swirls a glass vial.

“What is it?” He asks hesitantly, because the way you slumped against him with no argument was a little disconcerting. The two of you are not close, not even very friendly despite dealing with this Upside Down bullshit together. But when he thinks about you now, that spike of heat when he saw your finger looped with Munson’s—

“Well,” Dustin says, clearing his throat. “Her fever is going to get worse, I’d imagine.” He sets the vial down and shakes his head. “And you’re exposed too.”

Steve snorts, “Yeah, I’ll say.”

He listens dutifully to Dustin’s instructions while attempting to ignore how damn hot it is in the garage. _

All things said and done, Steve thinks he’s done pretty well. Ibuprofen, blankets, saltines, gatorade, and water. Even hefted you upstairs to one of the guest rooms while Eddie swiped his keys and promised everyone a trip to the arcade.

Kept his emotions in check once he noticed that you smelled faintly of cigarettes and weed, a familiar Metallica t-shirt adorning your form.

Eddie.

“Hey man,” he said from the base of the stairs, Steve’s keys spinning around his finger. “Wrap it before you tap it.”

“What?”

The door slams shut in reply.

So, yeah. After that, Steve left you to your own devices and was just hoping for the best. His symptoms seemed to lag a bit after yours, so he was anticipating some dizziness just as you knocked on his bedroom door.

“Steve?”

The door opens slowly, he’s half-illuminated by the dull glow from the streetlamp outside. It spills out into the hallway, bathing you in a warm light that cascades down your legs, the ragged hem of the shirt skimming across your bare thighs.

Breath stutters in his lungs. His chest is burning. His fingers seem ready to rip the door from its hinges. He watches as your body shakes, the worn fabric swaying side to side revealing a hint of your white briefs.

Correction, your soaked white briefs.

Steve swallows audibly, nostrils flaring as he picks up your scent.

Sex.

Skin and warmth and salt.

He watches idly as a bead of sweat trails down your neck to disappear beneath the torn collar of Eddie’s shirt.

Oh fuck, this is how he dies, isn’t it? Positively wrecked with no hope of release; a mallet to the back of the head would be kinder.

“Y-yeah?”

And for some godforsaken reason, his dumbass keeps breathing. The scent of you swirling through the air only to hit the back of his throat and remind him of what he can’t have.

Steve’s grip on the doorframe tightens as he attempts to steady himself.

“Are you…” Your brow furrows in concern, eyes dark and trained on him, “Are you feeling alright?”

And you don’t just smell good anymore, Steve thinks as he takes another shaky breath, you smell fucking delicious.

“I’ve, uh, been better,” he stammers out, his mind going fuzzy.

Another shiver rattles through you, and something in him just snaps.

“Hey, c’mere,” he whispers, reaching an arm out. “Lemme take care of you.”

His touch is like a brand as his fingers press against your arm and pull. Letting yourself be led forward, you throw your head back and giggle.

“Oh honey,” you sigh, lips pulled in a devilish smile, a solitary finger trailing down his chest as you back him against the wall, “But who’s going to take care of you?” _

Whatever’s between you, this infection, this thing, it’s desperate and wild. Alive and howling for respite, primal even. Steve lets himself be pinned, lets you drag your finger to the band of his shorts. Swallowing thickly as your stomach brushes against his cock, screws his eyes shut, and thinks of baseball, cold showers, those hard candies in the stupid crystal dishes as his great-aunt’s house, the smell of mothballs, golf—

But nothing works.

Because, try as he might, Steve has thought of you in this way. In passing. Somewhat. But he tries not to, because like, he should be respectful? Robin’s always harping on about feminism and choice and sexual liberation, but truthfully, Steve mostly zones out on the cut-out of Phoebe Cates and remembers that one string bikini you have with the ties on the side.

And it doesn’t help that you despise him. How your gaze is nothing but scathing toward him and yet you're smiling at everyone else. How touchy you are with Eddie, well he is your best friend, and he guesses that makes some sense. But you’ll greet Robin with a kiss on the cheek, and wolf-whistle at Nance like all the time.

He can’t make it make sense.

Because there are times when you’re softer. Like earlier today, for example. Or when you’re worried about the kids. No one worries like you and Steve worry. So much so, that everyone calls you mom to his dad and jokes about the acrimonious divorce. He let you drive his car to the Lab, and Steve never lets anyone drive the BMW unless he’s under duress.

“I’mma do you a solid, big guy.”

Your mouth is open and panting, red and wet. You’re standing in front of him dripping in need and all Steve can do is stand there, alternately flexing his hands into fists in order to keep them to himself.

“Do wh-what? You’re not—?” Steve stammers as his teeth chatter from the growing fever. The pet name that rolled so sweetly off your tongue is certainly not helping.

“I won’t make you beg,” you say, breath ghosting along his neck. “But you won’t be able to skin me from your bones by the time I’m through with you.”

If he wasn’t already concerned about passing out from all the blood rushing to his dick, he would be by now.

He calls your name softly, sweetly, and in a frenzy. He is this close to breaking down and giving in.

“Easy, easy,” you intone, hot fingers gracing muscles pulled taut.

The silent agreement between you looms like a specter. There’s a few beats of silence–heavy breaths and shuddering gasps until goosebumps break out over his skin as you blow a cool breath against the column of his throat. A ghosting of lips against your own until, “I need you Stevie,” you plead, grinding up against him, “I’m burning up.”

He opens his eyes and nods, biting back a groan in favor of crashing his lips against your own. His tongue slides against yours, sweet and heavy with promise into the cavern of your mouth. “S’okay, honey. I got you,” he says pulling away, and the endearment pulls painfully in your chest—it shouldn’t fall so easily from his mouth and scald across your skin.

His free hand snakes along the column of your spine, freeing you from your shirt as a moan slips forth. Your briefs tumble down your legs as he backs you toward the bed, his own shorts joining them. Fevered skin meets cool sheets, a shudder rolling through you both when he brushes against the slickness smeared between your thighs.

Yanking a drawer open, Steve fumbles around for a condom while you pepper kisses and bites to his neck. Frantically, he rips the foil packet open and rolls it on, one hand pressed to your bucking hips. He exhales a shaky breath, running his dick along the seam of your cunt.

“Hey, look at me.” Your command is softer, gentler than he would’ve guessed. With one hand, you tilt his face down to see where he catches against you. A roll of your hips prompts him to slide in like he was made for you. You mention as much, as you whimper and cry beneath him.

The tether inside of him snaps in a blaze of white light. The fire stokes hotter and hotter as you let out a strangled pant, “S-Steve.”

“Yeah,” he mutters against your jaw as you clench around him. “Yes.”

It would be sweet, under any other circumstance, the way your hands grip his shoulders as his name falls from your lips. Another strangled pant, “Fuck.” He blinks the spots from his vision, God. Watches as your whole body shakes.

Inside of this inferno, a small part of Steve is awake and aware– this is wrong. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He had a plan, goddamnit.

It’s all he can do to lick your jaw, push his tongue into your mouth, and steal the breath from your lungs before the inevitable descent. He slams into you once more and your eyes screw shut, he nearly forgets how to breathe.

You’re searing hot as he thrusts upwards. All wet lips and dazed eyes, “You were made for this.” You’re delirious now, and he is too, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Your head tips backwards against his pillow, “You were made for me.”

He groans and presses one hand beneath your navel, thumb circling your clit. The sounds coming from you are unbelievable, and he prays he’ll hear them until the day he dies. It makes him even hotter as you repeat his name like a litany, like a prayer, his hips slamming into you as your eyes screw shut.

Blindly, you drag him down by the nape of his neck. He’s slippery and slick all the way down to his thighs, and he can’t help but groan into your ear, “Gonna make it good, honey. Gonna make you mine.”

And who would’ve thought it would be Steve who could pull you apart so prettily only to stitch you right back together? You can’t help but reach the peak of your desire over and over and over again as his husky voice lilts lovingly in your ear.

All the world drops dead when you come sobbing his name. _

It’s been hours and hours, and Steve has been run ragged from all the fucking. The fever, the virus, the compulsion has been sweat out. You are passed out beside him, hogging the pillow and blanket, mouth open and drooling. There is a soreness shared by you both, there is a chance Steve may have fucked his dick raw. He drips from between your thighs, a puddle of rampant desire.

But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Just like that, and everything feels brand new. The world has sloughed from your shoulders and it’s just the two of you in the silence of the comedown. He lifts his head from your shoulder as you blink yourself awake and kisses you softly, with more tenderness than he knew he was capable of. You hum and lean into the kiss, into him, hands winding back into his hair and splaying against his chest. You shouldn’t feel this … content. Bubbly yet exhausted, smiling as you sponge sleepy kisses along his jaw.

Steve smiles, and he knows.

It’s fairly obvious now, to him at least, that what he mistook for loathing turned out to be love.

“So,” you whisper, nails scoring down his biceps, “You gonna keep me?”

He drags you closer, all warmth and need, until there’s not an inch of space to spare. “Depends,” he says, lips brushing against yours and allows you to swallow his voice. Kisses you stupid, only to leave you desperate for more. Steve rests his head against yours, eyes dark in the fading summer light. “You gonna let me?”

And you know, as maybe you always had.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nuzzling into his chest, head nodding with the beat of his heart, “I think I will.”

Steve releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in and keeps you close.

_

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 16

"AUNT KARA!"

Esme throws the front door open and sprints full tilt across the lawn to throw her arms around Kara.

"Hey there," Kara greets.

Pulling her face back to look at Kara with wide eyes, Esme gets straight down to business.

"Tell me *everything*."

----

Kara's exhausted on the couch by the time Esme runs out of questions. She softens the blow of having left Esme so long without updates by letting Esme watch her video recording of Lena's new song. Oh, Esme has already seen the bootlegs of the song spread online, but none of those were taken from backstage.

The hard conversation doesn't come until after dinner, when Esme goes upstairs to finish her homework and leaves Kara alone with Alex and Kelly. They both gaze at her with soft, but expectant eyes.

"I'm fine," Kara tells them.

"No one is saying you're not," Kelly assures her.

Alex is less gentle. "Doesn't mean we can't be worried."

Two days ago, Kara would have taken offense. Today, she recognizes the validity of Alex's concern.

She sighs. "I don't think it was the wrong decision."

"Neither do we," Kelly says. "I don't think choosing happiness ever could be."

"But going half the way across the world at the drop of a hat is bound to be jarring." Alex's voice isn't sharp at all. In fact, she's far more calm than Kara expected her to be.

Kara glances at her suspiciously. "You don't approve."

Alex shrugs. "It doesn't matter what I think. The fact you made the choice tells me it was the right decision in the moment." She lifts her glass of wine to her lips, eyeing Kara over the rim. "But is it sustainable?"

Biting her lip, Kara considers the question. She doesn't regret her choice, and the past few weeks have been a whirlwind of excitement and novelty on all fronts. But what happens when the shine wears off?

"I'm still happy," she says carefully. "And Lena has been amazing. I just... don't know what my role is."

Kelly offers a soft smile. "Growing pains is natural, especially in a situation like this where you've been thrust into an unfamiliar industry and an intense career like Lena's. And learning to navigate the personal stuff is requirement of any relationship. It's just going to be harder with Lena than with anyone else."

"Why?" Kara demands, defensive at the implication she would be daunted. "Because she's famous?"

"Yes, Kara!" Alex leans forward, features lined with concern. She sets her wine down, and scrubs her hands over her face. "I don't-- it's not that she's famous, it's the fact that she can't meet you halfway."

Kelly nods. "Successful partners find the common ground-- a spot where they can meet in the middle. What Alex is trying to say is that Lena can't do that."

"Look at what's happened so far," Alex elaborates, gesturing towards the door. "You uprooted everything and got dropped into her world. She hasn't-- she *can't* do the same for you."

Kara looks into her glass, pensive. Again, Alex isn't wrong. Lena's single foray into her life had been coffee in the park-- in disguise. Meanwhile Kara has been thrust into the deep end of Lena's own life. Her career, her family and friends...

Could Lena ever find the same kind of assimilation into Kara's life? Would she *want* to?

And does Kara care if she doesn't?

"I don't think it would be fair to either of us to end things before even trying."

Before anything else can be said, Esme's door slams open upstairs and teenaged feet pound down the stairs at a breakneck pace, only to screech to a halt at the threshold of the living room.

"Aunt Kara?"

Kara sits up from her slouch, concern leeching over her. "What's wrong?"

"Yeah, you okay sweetie?" Kelly asks.

Esme's features crease in apprehension, her anxious gaze flicking between Kara and her phone.

"Um... there's something you should see."

Kara reaches for Esme's phone when she offers it. She shoots her sister an uncertain glance, then turns her attention to the glowing screen.

She blinks at the list of breaking news results on the search screen, jaw tightening. She clicks on the first. A photo fills the screen-- and Kara's heart plummets.

[spacelatinoluvr]

Forever is the Sweetest Con

‘You were raw. And real. Something Joel hadn’t known for such a long time.’

Chapter 3

Summary: Finding meaning in a world full of disappointment was something you've always thought was pointless. And even now, after seemingly starting over, you're struggling to find purpose in the quaint town of Jackson. But that was all until saw yourself so clearly in the brother of your best friend, causing you to rethink your life.

Word Count: 8.6k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Tags: Soft Joel, Grumpy Joel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reader is friends with Tommy, Reader was a Firefly, Joel’s kind of an asshole, Leg Injury, Post-outbreak Jackson, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Yearning Joel, Joel Falls First, Canon-Typical Violence

Warnings: Implication of self-harm and depression, implication of pregnancy loss, pregnancy issues, self-inflicted injury

“Flex your leg for me.” You straightened your leg, wincing slightly. You tried to hide the face you made, but you knew Henrietta could see it. Henrietta touched the spot where you were bruised, gliding her fingers over the purple skin. You jerked away, sharply huffing through your nose.

“How long was the walk, again?” 

“Eight miles,” Henrietta gave you a pointed look. “Joel made me ride Buttercup on the way back.”

“Oh, did he? That’s a first.” Henrietta gave you a sly smirk, removing her hands from your leg. You pulled your pant leg down, sitting up straight. You were sitting in Henrietta’s home, on top of her kitchen counter, almost like a child at the doctors office. 

It had been two weeks since the last time you’d seen Joel. Sure you’d physically seen him; passed each other without a word. But you hadn’t spoken to him. Not that you wanted to anyway.

“And you’re going again tomorrow?” You nodded. 

“Okay well like I’ve told you before: no walking unless you have to, definitely try not to run and if it starts to hurt sit down.”

“But-“

“Do you want to walk normally again?” You sighed.

“Yes.”

“A hot bath every night, massage it and stretch it out. That could help ease the pain. And no walking long distances. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“If it gets worse, I'll have to give you the brace again.”

“Yes ma'am." Henrietta tilted her head, giving you a stern look. 

“I’m serious,” Henrietta crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you imagine if you fell? If you walked more than you did?” 

“I know.” But really you didn't know. Really all you wanted was to be able to walk normally again and not feel like you caused problems. Not feel like you couldn’t be yourself again. 

“Okay, I'm gonna say something but just listen, alright?” You nodded and Henrietta helped you hop off of the counter. “I know you don't get along with him. But, Seth, he-”

“Seth?” Your eyes widened, a huff that sounded like a laugh escaping from your mouth. You and Seth actually used to get along but now it was like a death trap every time you spoke to him. 

“Yes. Seth. I'm all out of mint salve, but he can make you some. You just have to trade.”

“I don't have anything to trade with him.”

“Listen, I don't trade with Seth anymore. But, if you want to help your leg. Ask him for the salve. It'll help ease the pain.” Henrietta walked towards a cabinet above her stove, pulling a jar of honey- or maybe it was syrup. Some form of sticky substance that looked like it had crusted over. 

“Y’know he bakes? Or used to anyway. Sugar’s hard to find so sometimes he’d use my tree sap and make syrup.”

Seth baking was something that really really surprised you. 

“So… I give him this,” you pointed at the jar “and he’ll give me salve?”

And that’s how you ended up inside The Tipsy Bison, watching Seth as he cleaned glasses. It was daytime, and the patrons were sparse. He hadn't noticed you yet, as you hid near the door. The sap was sitting in your hand, warming slightly by the heat. 

You hovered near the door, swallowing thickly. Seth was still distracted wiping down the counter now. You approached the bar slowly, letting your feet not make any noise. He looked up as you sat down, setting the jar in front of him. 

“This for me?” He picked it up twirling it in his hand before setting it down again, with a forceful thud. “I don’t do trades with Henrietta anymore-“

“It’s from me.” Seth hummed, glancing down at the sap again. 

“And you wanted to what? Trade with me?” 

“Yes,” Seth picked it up again. “I need salve. For my leg, Henrietta said-”

“I don't make it no more.” He set the jar down, harder this time. 

“You don't?"

“No, no I don't make it but I know someone that does. I can trade with them.” You nodded, unresponsive. Seth then looked around, clearing his throat. 

“Im…sorry about what I said. Sometimes it's hard to…”

“To not be an asshole?”

“Yeah, well I'm different than I used to be but that doesn't make it okay.”

You nodded your head to keep from saying anything you'd regret. Though you wished you cussed him out the first time he made sexist remarks towards you, Tommy had calmed you down enough to not start a quarrel. 

It was nighttime and the snow had just started to melt even though it was still freezing. The wind bit at your face, and you tucked your head even lower into your jacket. It was Maria’s birthday, and Tommy had decided to throw her a surprise birthday party. 

You entered the town hall, pausing to look around. You spotted Henrietta drinking a beer towards the back talking to a man you didn’t know. Most people you didn’t know. Most people you didn’t care to get to know.

Henrietta saw you, waving her hand to usher you towards her. Reluctantly you began to walk towards her, tucking your hands into your coat pockets. 

“Hey, Eugene was wonderin’ when you’d finally show up.”

“Where’s he at?”

“The bar with Jenna.” Jenna was one of Maria’s friends. She was older, maybe in her later sixties but you never really talked to her. 

Henrietta took a sip from her beer and nodded toward the far side of the room. “They’re waiting for the cue. Tommy’s supposed to bring her in through the back in about ten minutes.”

You gave a stiff nod, glancing around again. The decorations were modest- streamers in bright greens and pink, a sagging painted banner that read Happy Birthday, and a table weighed down with side dishes, desserts, and one lopsided cake. 

There was a large group of people, mostly adults and no children around. Maria was someone the town loved, and the amount of people there didn’t surprise you.

You approached Eugene, watching as he stopped mid sentence to turn towards you, a bright smile on his face. 

“Well, I’ll be damned- you actually came!” He patted you on the shoulder, pulling you into a side hug. 

“Eugene.” You groaned into his shoulder.

“Jenna here was just telling me you’re gonna help her round up some horses.”

That was right. You remembered her briefly now. Maria had told you that they’d lost a few horses on a bad patrol, hoping you’d help round some wild ones. Jenna was one of the coordinators for patrol, she also happened to be on the council. Just like every friend of Tommy and Maria.

“Oh, right. Yeah. I said that, didn't I?” Jenna shot you a smirk, a small laugh escaping from her. She took a sip from her wine, watching you from over the rim. 

When Tommy and Maria finally arrived, after a loud surprise, you let out a sigh. You were done socializing, and you made your way over to Tommy a beer in your hand. 

You nudged him with your hip as you stood next to him, handing him the beer. 

“Where’s Maria gone now?”

“No idea. Thought she was with Jenna- oh there she is!” Maria had stumbled on top of the stage near the corner, a microphone in her hand. 

“What the hell-“ you muttered before turning to Tommy, your eyebrows furrowed. “I thought the speakers didn’t work?” Tommy hid a smile beneath his beer. 

“Got one of the mechanics to fix one of ‘em. Not too loud, but just loud enough.” Tommy took a swig of his beer. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“That’ll be fun.” The sarcastic comment slipped out before you could stop it, and Tommy let out a quiet hum. 

“Why don’t you go sing somethin’?” He nudged his head towards Maria who was trying to get the microphone to work: and failing. You shook your head, almost choking on your spit.

“I do not sing anymore. You know this, Tommy.” 

“It’d be nice to hear it. I miss your singin’.“

“Tommy.” You said lowly, your eyes warning him.

“Okay, okay.” Tommy let out a laugh at the face you were making, setting his beer down on the bar. Hastily, you turned to grab a drink from the bartender before muttering a thanks. 

“Maybe you should go sing.” You bumped your hip with his again, this time eliciting a crisp laugh from him. 

“Nah, that's your thing. Besides, I sound like nails on a chalkboard.” You stood there for a moment, watching as Maria butchered a song you could barely hear from where you both stood. Tommy was right of course; the speaker was shit. You couldn't even tell what song she was singing, or trying to sing. 

And then you saw Henrietta in the corner, her hand waving towards you. She was by herself, nibbling on a slice of vanilla cake. 

“I'm needed.” You winked at Tommy, glass of red wine in your hand, as you walked away towards Henrietta. Before you reached her, your body collided heavily with a much larger one, your drink spilling all over the figure. The glass fell to the ground, smashing into pieces.

It was Seth. 

“Shit-“

“Goddamn fuckin’ bitch,” He muttered quietly, trying to wipe the new stain forming on his white shirt. And to think you were about to apologize.

“What did you call me?” Seth looked up, eyebrows scrunched together, his hands falling at his side. You swayed a little, the alcohol you had consumed that night getting to your head.

“You heard me.”

“No, I don't think I did.”

“I called you a fucking bitch-“

You didn’t think twice before your fist met his face, blood splattering across the floor. Tommy was pulling you away from him within seconds, but you wished he could get a punch in. 

Maybe he’d feel better about himself.

Seth set down a glass of bourbon in front of you, the clattering of it making you jump from your thoughts. You picked it up from where it sat, taking a large gulp, feeling as the warmth of the whiskey sank down your throat and into your stomach. 

“I’m not sorry for punching you by the way. You’re still a piece of shit,” You muttered through another sip of bourbon. Seth paused his movements, turning to wipe down more glasses. “And I bet you another glass that Maria told you to apologize to me a long time ago.” 

Seth was quiet for a moment, before he set down another glass in front of you silently. 

Figures. 

You knew he’d never apologize on his own. Or go out of his way to see you. 

The door creaked open, and you turned your head to find Joel. You sighed, gulping down the rest of your bourbon, before moving on to the next glass. 

Joel hadn’t noticed you yet as he walked past you over to Seth. You watched them talk, unable to hear their conversation from across the bar. And then you heard it.

“-need it by tomorrow.” Your head turned, finding a bag of what looked like legos on the bar in front of him. They said a few more words, and then Joel stood, leaving the bar. 

You took a long sip from your drink, standing to walk over in front of Seth. You set the empty glass down in front of him, wordlessly leaving the bar as your eyes trailed over the bag of legos. 

+

“You and Joel seem to be fitting in just nicely.” You muttered, taking Shimmer from her enclosure. 

You had seen the way Joel moved so methodically: like he belonged. It was different from how he was a month ago. And you were the first to notice it seemed like.

“I like it here but…” Ellie trailed off, feeding a carrot to Shimmer absentmindedly. “Everything feels so slow, y'know?" Ellie turned to you, petting Shimmer. 

“I know what you mean,” you put your hand on Shimmer’s mane. ”It took me a year to finally feel somewhat normal here. And I’m still struggling.” 

And Joel seemed to be doing just fine. 

“Maria put me on kitchen duty last week and I have to do it again.” Ellie groaned. 

“It’s not so bad. If you’d like, I can do it with you.”

“It’s tomorrow. If you’re back in time.” 

“I have kitchen duty on Monday but I’m sure Henrietta won’t mind having me to help.” Ellie nodded thoughtfully.

“Is she the pretty lady?” 

“Yes, she’s the pretty lady.” You laughed. “Alright hop on, cowgirl. Remember what I taught you last week?” 

“I know how to get on a horse I’m not five,” Ellie paused before she turned to you, eyes screwed in confusion. “Outside foot in the…” 

“Stirrup. And then?”

“Swing my leg over and pray I don’t eat shit.” You rolled your eyes. Ellie got her foot into the stirrup and, with a grunt, hoisted herself up onto Shimmer’s back. She wobbled for a second before steadying herself with a look of mild triumph, hands gripping Shimmer.

“I’m like a real fucking cowboy!” 

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, John Wayne.”

“Who?” You ignored her, a light airy laugh coming from your lips. 

“And no one ever taught you how to properly ride a horse?” Ellie got quiet, unresponsive to your question.

“It’s not like we have horses in the QZ’s… I learned how just not with your fancy shmancy terms.” You laughed again, patting Shimmer. 

“Okay, so you do know how to ride a horse?”

“Everyone knows how to ride a horse.”

“My mom used to be a professional so I kinda just grew up with horses my whole life.”

“A professional horse rider? That was a thing?!” Ellie’s eyes widened, a smile stretching on her face.

“Anything and everything was professional.”

“Everything?” Ellie titled her head.

“Everything.” You removed Shimmer from the barn, turning to walk outside. Ellie perked up once you were both outside, watching as the sun set. 

“Was swimming professional?”

“Oh, yeah. It was a sport. Never watched it though. I grew up in a baseball family.”

“I mean I can’t swim. I just jump and hope for the best. And people did it professionally-“ 

“Ellie!” You slapped her on the arm.

“What?” She rubbed jokingly at the spot where you’d hit her.

“So now I have to teach you to swim too?”

“Joel promised he’d teach me, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

+

Joel was quiet. 

Deathly quiet. Not quiet in a way that seemed like he meant to be. Not in a way that he wanted to be. But in a soft, peaceful way. 

You rode Buttercup in complete silence. Not uttering a single word. You liked it that way. It was calming. Your leg didn’t throb as much, and your mind was at ease. 

And Joel seemed different. 

You’d noticed it when he’d come to pick you up. He was just so quiet: keeping to himself. No scoffs, no words under his breath, no angry looks, no impatience, just quiet responses or the nod of his head. 

Maybe it was the town that was softening him. Maybe it was being with Tommy. Maybe it was that sense of belonging; one that you never felt. Maybe it was Ellie. Or just maybe it was a combination of everything.

You had both arrived at the shooting range quickly, and Joel had seemed almost rushed like he was wishing to leave as fast as possible. You watched as he reloaded the gun, aiming then firing. It was constant after that. And then he handed you the gun without so much of a word.

“I saw you at the bar,” You muttered. “Yesterday.”

Joel didn’t respond, looking up at you from where he sat on the log. He was breathing heavily, almost like he was holding his breath. You aimed the gun about to shoot when he spoke.

“Needed a cake.”

“Cake? For what?” You let the gun fall, turning to face him. 

“Ellie’s birthday.” What was he doing here with you then? 

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m sure Tommy would’ve-“ 

“I told her I’d be back before sundown. She’s gotta do kitchen duty anyway. Some stupid shit Maria’s got her doin’.” You nodded, aiming the gun, then firing. You turned back towards Joel. 

“I told her I’d help her. I can make sure she gets done early.” All he did was bob his head, almost like a silent thanks. You aimed the gun again, shooting for another target. 

“You said you learned how to shoot from your brother?” You were surprised he remembered that.

“I grew up in an army family. My dad was a sergeant up until I was born. He taught my older brother how to shoot but always said he could never touch a gun again. Like it was poison or somethin’.” You let your fingers gently touch the base of the gun, like you were soothing it to sleep.

“Can I ask you something?” You said, peering up at him. Joel didn’t say anything, he just stared at you, waiting.

“Did you really think I was snooping? I mean I wasn’t tryin’ to snoop. I was just… curious.“ 

“Yeah, curious where you shouldn’t be.”

“Joel.” Joel sighed, standing from where he was sitting.

“Can we just get this shit over with?”

“See? Everytime I try to talk to you it’s like you hate me.” You scoffed, turning towards the targets again.

“I don’t hate you.” But he did. He hated you. And you could see it. So clearly. You turned back towards him.

“Look, can we just start over?” your hand rose to rub your face. “Tommy wants me to be more… social. Whatever the fuck that means.” Joel shifted on his feet, quiet for a few seconds letting you both breathe. 

He sighed, looking at the ground before speaking. “Fine. If it makes you feel better.” You ignored his harsh tone.

“Hopefully we only have a few more of these to do and then you’ll be on your way on patrol with Tommy after the baby is born,” you picked the gun up, aiming at the targets. “I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. So it’s best to just… get along.” Joel was quiet, almost like he was silently agreeing with you. 

And then you shot, the bullet landing far to the center of the target.

“Shit…” you muttered, eyes squinting to look at your missed shot. You turned towards him again, setting the gun against the tree before sitting on the log across from Joel with a sigh. 

“So,” you reached for your bag, grabbing the canister of water. “What were you makin’?” you opened the canister, taking a large gulp. A satisfied hum escaped from you as you wiped the water that had trickled down your chin. 

And then Joel stiffened, that hard look returning. It was like he put a guard up instantly. 

“None of your damn business." 

“Well if we’re gonna be friends I’ll tell you something about myself,” you passed him the canister, and it hung in the air for a moment before he reluctantly took it from your hands. “And then you tell me something about you. One thing every time we’re up here. It’ll make it easier. Deal?” 

“We’re not friends.”

“Okay,” you thought for a moment, tapping jokingly at your chin and humming. “What about shooting partners?” Joel swallowed down his sip of water.

“Definitely not partners.” He passed the canister back to you.

“Come on. For Tommy.” Joel was quiet.

“I was making a picture frame.”

“What for?”

“You said one thing.” You let out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. 

“Touché, Texas.” For some reason you let the name slip out, a small smile on your face. And then Joel tensed up again, a look you couldn’t quite place on his face. 

“Tommy tell you everything about us?” Joel’s voice was colder this time, coming out forced. Your head was bent down, staring at the ground.

“Well I know that Tommy was a fuckin’ player,” you snorted, shifting on the log to better let your bad leg rest. “Not shockin’ by the way.”

You looked up at him. “He never told me much about you though. Mentioned a few times. I know about…” you paused, like you were treading on thin ice. “What happened on outbreak day… and that it was your fucking birthday,“ 

Joel remained still, not uttering a word. 

“I know about… Sarah,”

Tommy had told you about his niece; his lovely and beautiful niece Sarah. Even through all the stories Tommy had told you of her, you felt like a piece of you knew her. Like a piece of you understood why Joel was the way he was.

“And I know you're an old asshole.” You tried to lighten the mood, throwing in a small airy laugh. But Joel didn't move. He didn't laugh; throw you a small smile or even try to respond. He just stared almost like he was looking right through you.

But in that silence it was like something had passed between you both- almost like the way the breeze drifted through both of you, making you shiver. It was mutual; something that you both felt, and you turned your head away first to stare at Buttercup. 

You spoke too much, something you thought you'd lost. A flaw you thought you'd gotten rid of through the years. But you had tugged at the rope too hard, and with it came an unspoken feeling. 

“I shouldn't've-"

“No,” Joel stood, his bag following with his movements, his eyes back in that dark stare that they always were. “You shouldn't have. Pokin’ where you shouldn't be.”

“Well, Tommy thought you were dead Joel so yeah he fucking told me his life story.” 

Joel paused, shifting his weight from where he stood above you. 

“We should head back.” He moved towards the rifle, grabbing it from where it sat on the tree. And then you were alone with your thoughts, watching as Joel undid Buttercup’s reins. 

Somehow in that moment, it brought you back. Back to when your mother had first taught you to ride a horse. You were twelve, the age where you’d finally lost all your baby teeth. 

“Now, remember what I taught you?”

You remembered. You always remembered. 

+

Ellie was late. 

Not five minutes late, not even fifteen. But an hour late. A full sixty minutes. For some reason it didn’t surprise you. Not in the slightest. Ellie’s only job was to help with dishes. And they had already stacked up, almost as tall as you. 

“She’ll be here.” You watched as Henrietta spoke to Maria about the girl's whereabouts. Maria was consistently telling Henrietta that Ellie would be here soon. But she still hadn’t turned up.

It was the dinner time rush, and you and the few people on kitchen duty were rushing about trying to get food out as fast as possible. 

“I told you that friend she hangs out with is bad news.” 

“They mean well. She’ll be here. Promise.” And then Maria walked towards the other side of the kitchen, her belly bigger than you last remembered it. 

“That kid…” Henrietta muttered, beginning to knead some dough on the counter. 

“Shes a good kid. Maybe she forgot-“

“She was late last week and skips school every other day.”

“Just give her a minute-“

And then the door to the kitchen burst open, Ellie appearing in the doorway. 

“You’re late, Ellie.” Maria turned to her now, scolding her. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” 

Ellie’s cheeks were flushed, her breath uneven like she’d run the last few minutes to get there. Her eyes darted around the kitchen, pausing on the mountain of dishes, then flitting to Maria’s tired expression, Henrietta’s glare, and finally landing on you.

“I just got caught up-“

Maria’s hand lifted, and Ellie paused. 

“You were supposed to be here at five,” Maria said, her voice low, not angry so much as worn thin. “I’ve been vouching for you. We'll talk about this later tonight with Joel.”

Ellie’s face fell, hardening slightly at the mention of him. Maria patted Ellie on the shoulder, before leaving the kitchen. You turned to Ellie with a smirk on your face and a soapy rag in your hand. 

“Happy birthday,” you put the rag in her hand. “Start washing dishes before Henrietta cuts your head off.” 

It had been about an hour of washing dishes when Ellie had finally caught up. Now it was later in the evening, the people had slowed down coming in in small groups rather than larger ones. 

Now the town hall was sparse, only a few people eating dinner. 

“We stop serving in about twenty minutes, so we like to start prepping for tomorrow. Will you two help with boiling potatoes?” Henrietta had interrupted you both, looking solely at Ellie and you. 

Ellie had no way to tell Henrietta no even if she wanted to, so she wordlessly followed Henrietta near the food prep area. Most of the workers were gone, only you, Henrietta, Ellie and a few others were there.

You followed also, watching as the simmering pits of water became hotter and hotter. 

“You know how to boil water right?” You asked as Henrietta walked away towards the front of the kitchen. Ellie let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. 

“We had stoves in the QZ…” Ellie was staring at the large pot of boiling water.

The door to the kitchen swung open again this time Tommy had entered, seeming to be looking for someone. And then his eyes landed on Ellie, who was still staring at the pot. 

“Almost done, kiddo?” Tommy was standing right beside you now, staring at Ellie. 

“If the boss says I’m almost done then I’m almost done.” Tommy let out a quiet hum, turning to look at Henrietta who was focused on cutting carrots. 

“She good to go?” Tommy gestured with his head towards Ellie. Henrietta looked up with only her eyes, pausing her cutting movements. 

“Yeah, she’s good. Just dump out that pot over there for me, alright?” Ellie nodded and then Henrietta smiled gently at her. “And happy birthday, Ellie.”

Ellie smiled at Henrietta, and you narrowed your eyes at Tommy, your lips lifting into a smile.

“You here to pick her up?”

Tommy had leaned down to speak to you in a whisper. “Yeah, Joel’s grabbing something for Ellie.” you nodded, watching Tommy as he looked behind you.

“Ah, birthday surprise?” Tommy smiled, glancing down at you again.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“How was Joel today?” Tommy leaned his hip against the counter.

“He was… Joel. I did what you told me. I tried to be social with him but he… he didn’t budge.”

“It’ll take a minute but he’ll warm up,” Tommy sighed. “Listen-“

“Ellie!” Henrietta had dropped the knife on the cutting board, rushing over to Ellie. You turned around abruptly finding Ellie, the scorching hot pot on her arm. 

It looked as if she was burning herself, a guilty look on her face. Henrietta had gotten to her before you did, and pulled the pot away from her arm. You rushed forward, eyes wide. 

“Ellie-“

Tommy pushed his way in front of you before you could reach Ellie, pulling her burning arm to his face. 

“Shit! Ellie what the hell-“

“Fuck, I didn’t think it’d hurt this bad-“

“You did this on purpose?”

“I-“

“I gotta take you to the infirmary. Let’s go.” Tommy took a towel from the counter, wrapping Ellie’s arm in it before he began to walk out of the kitchen, Ellie following. You began to follow them, but Tommy had turned around at the doorway blocking your path. 

“I’m just gonna take her alone.” 

Right. 

“Shit, what the fuck?” Henrietta sighed, putting the burning pot in the sink. “It’s my fault-“

“It’s not your fault.” You watched as Tommy and Ellie hurriedly left the kitchen, leaving you and Henrietta behind. 

“I should’ve known better. Stupid fuckin’ kid.” Henrietta muttered, shaking her head tilted towards the ceiling. 

“It was an accident-“

“She did it purposefully. I watched her. Stuck her arm right on that pot. Didn’t even flinch or make a sound.” Henrietta started to drain the rest of the potatoes into the sink. “Her arm though… it…” Henrietta shook her head, resting against the sink. 

“I’ll check on her later,” you sighed, starting to walk towards her. “You’re gonna have to tell Maria about this.” You sat on top of the counter, legs dangling in the air. 

“I mean who does that? Burns their arm.”

You saw the look on Ellie’s face though. It was heavy with guilt. Her eyes almost pleading, scattered with distant tears. But she didn’t utter a sound. Just let it happen. And you wondered why. 

Maybe it was an impulse. Maybe it was actually an accident. Somehow you knew it wasn’t. 

You watched Henrietta as she moved about the kitchen grabbing what looked to be some sort of ointment in a glass jar. 

“Here,” She handed it to you. “I made this a while ago. Had it stored here in case someone got a nasty burn. Take this to Ellie and tell her to apply it twice a day or as much as she pleases.”

The walk to Joel and Ellie’s house was calming; almost like the town of Jackson was still just for a moment. You noticed when you arrived that their home was more decorated since the last time you’d seen it. At least from the outside. There were chairs now on the wraparound porch, some plants and a mat. 

Plants. 

You never thought you’d see Joel Miller with plants. He seemed like someone to instantly kill them, forgetting to water them. But they were bright and green. Perfectly green. 

You hid a small smile as you walked up the stairs to their door, and you noticed something. The walk up those steps was easier. It didn’t hurt like it had weeks ago.

Sure, it still ached. But you did it without having to groan in pain. You did it in complete silence. 

It was later in the evening now, and the sun was beginning to set behind their house. Your hand rose to knock at the door, but you froze. And then you heard it through the open windows. 

The sound of a guitar.

It was low, almost like the person playing was trying to be quiet. But you still heard it. The deliberate yet raw strums. It was a song you didn’t entirely recognize; maybe something you’d heard once or twice on the radio when you were a kid. It wasn’t a song you’d ever heard, but it was familiar. 

You stayed still for a moment, your hand still hovering above the door. You felt like an intruder, like you’d overstayed your welcome yet you hadn’t even entered their home. 

You’d made Joel mad enough.

And then you heard something else you never thought you’d hear. 

The muffled sound of Joel’s voice- Joel singing rang from the windows. You couldn’t recognize the words or even any other sounds but you could tell it was him. And it was something that made you want to hear more of it. 

Then the guitar stopped. Ellie’s laughter rang through the walls and the closed doors. And then muffled voices. And then quiet. A lonesome type of quiet. One that made you feel separated from everyone else in the world; one that made you feel so alone. 

Instead of knocking on the door. Instead of disrupting the peace. Instead of hearing the tune of that guitar. Instead of hearing the sweet melodies. Instead of doing what you wished. Instead of entering the home of Joel fucking Miller. 

You set the ointment softly on the ground, not looking behind you as you left behind the sweet melodies. 

+

The next day you awoke to a banging on your front door. You groaned, head falling back into the pillow as the knocks became more insistent. 

It was Henrietta, and she looked deathly pale, as she frantically knocked at your door. 

“Hey, open up!” 

You opened the door, hair a little wild and out of place, rubbing at your eyes. 

“What the fuck-“ you spat, hip jutted out. Henrietta huffed, her face distant and eyes a little wide.

“It’s Maria. Some- something’s wrong with the baby.”

Your stomach sank and your knees wobbled. You held yourself in the doorframe, keeping your body upright so you wouldn't fall.

“The baby?”

Tommy was pacing; something he did when he was upset. It was just the two of you in the infirmary, sitting outside the room where Maria was. 

“Tommy come sit down, please.” Tommy continued to pace, ignoring you. You let your hands drop, hanging them below your knees. You played with your fingers, picking at the raw skin till it almost bled. 

“I’ll rest when I know Maria’s okay.”

“She’ll be okay-“

“You don’t know that. Don’t tell me something you don’t fuckin’ know.” Tommy had stopped pacing, turning to face you with his finger pointed right in your face. He’d seemed to notice the way he’d spoken, sighing loudly before lowering himself in the seat next to you. The chair creaked as he sat down, a huff escaping from him.

“I’m sorry, I-“ 

“It’ll be okay,” you gave him your best smile, as strained as it was. “Promise.”

“They won’t let me in there. I mean for fucks sake I’m her husband-“

The door to the room opened quietly, Henrietta’s head popping through. Tommy stood quickly, wiping his hands in his pants. 

“Is- is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine. Perfect actually.” Tommy heaved a sigh through his nose. “The baby is healthy. Everything’s okay. We think it could be stress so we’re suggesting that Maria be on bed rest for a while.”

Henrietta had explained on your walk to the infirmary that Maria had suddenly collapsed early that morning, almost seizure-like. Tommy was frantic, immediately running to the infirmary with Maria in his arms.

And then he asked for you. Maybe for support or some form of assistance- but you knew how to calm Tommy down in his darkest days. You wondered why he hadn’t asked for Joel or any of his council buddies. 

“Can I see her?” Tommy asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Henrietta gave a small nod and Tommy didn’t wait. He was through the door before she’d begun to speak. You stood too, but didn’t follow. You stayed behind with Henrietta, watching as the tension in her shoulders finally gave way.

”You can go inside if you'd like-”

“No,” The protest came out harsher than you'd meant. “No, it's fine. I'll give them their privacy.” And then Tommy’s head popped out from the door and he called your name. 

“Maria wants to see ya.”

You stepped into the room slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the blinds. Maria lay on the narrow bed, a blanket tucked up to her chin, her dark braids splayed across the pillow. Her skin was paler than usual, but her eyes were clear and bright as they met yours.

“Hey, how you feelin’?” You reached the end of the bed, watching as a laugh fell from her lips. 

“Can’t you tell? I'm great.” Maria turned to Tommy. “Can I talk to her alone?” Tommy nodded before leaving a long-lasting kiss on Maria’s temple, his hand rubbing at the smooth skin on her cheek. Tommy gave you a small smile before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. 

“So,” Maria shifted from where she was sitting up in the bed. 

“So,” you repeated back, hands lightly playing with your fingers. 

“Tommy has really been stressed about you and Joel. And when Tommy’s stressed…” Maria looked away, almost waiting for you to finish her sentence. 

“You’re stressed…” you sighed, feeling so stupid. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Maria. I didn’t think-“

“It’s okay. Just-“ she huffed, a tight lipped smile on her face. “Just promise me you’ll try to get along. You guys are two of the most important people in Tommy’s life. All he wants is for you to get along. You don’t have to be friends. Just try.”

“I do, try!” your voice jumped a little, higher than you’d meant it. “Sorry. I will try. I really really fucking try. But he’s so-“

“Let me guess. Cold? Distant? Gruff?”

“Not even just that. It’s like…” you looked out the window, eyes furrowed in thought. “It’s like he’s… scared.” 

The look on Joel’s face every time he even glanced your way was one filled with what seemed to be anger. But you could see beneath it. You could see the way he always distanced himself from you yet seemed to stay close by. As if he was afraid something would happen. 

“Will you at least talk to him?”

“I did,” you looked back towards Maria. “Today, I mean. I tried to get him to open up and talk to me. One on one. But he…”

“It’ll take a minute but-“ you groaned.

“Yeah, I know he’ll warm up, right? Tommy says the same shit.”

“Joel was the same way with me,” Maria sighed. “And… thank you.” Maria smiled, her eyes glazed over. 

“What for?”

“You always seem to put Tommy in a better mood. Most wives would be jealous… but I’m thankful. You can do things I can't, so… thank you.”

You exited Maria’s room quietly, finding Tommy speaking with the head doctor, Peter. Peter worked alongside Henrietta, while Peter ran the infirmary, Henrietta worked mainly as a head nurse. 

You’d walked towards the end of the hall, sitting down towards the exit. Then the infirmary door opened, Joel barging inside. Just when you thought you wouldn’t have to see him. The word must have gotten around of Maria's injury, and Joel looks furious as he entered. 

Just as you thought Joel would yell, throw profanities at his brother- instead he just pulled him gently by the shoulder before pulling him into a soft hug. You watched them closely, the way that Tommy almost sunk to the ground. The way Joel held him, brotherly and secure. 

And then they broke apart, Joel giving Tommy a supportive pat on the back. 

“She’s alright. They’re alright.” Tommy muttered, distantly looking at the door from where she laid. 

“How far along is she again?” Joel muttered, shifting from where he stood.

“Almost seven months,” he took a long look across the room, almost like he was searching for something. “It’s a boy. Found out today.” 

A boy. A baby boy. 

Bile threatened to spill past you as you stared at Tommy. You heard the way his voice cracked when he said it. You saw the way he was looking past you through Joel’s figure, like he was embarrassed. 

You stood, slowly limping towards the exit of the clinic. The hot air hit you, not suffocating like it usually was. It was better than inside: but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You leaned on the wall, stabilizing yourself with your hand. Breathing in and out in shallow breaths. You could feel your heart in your stomach, the blood pumping hard to keep yourself stable. 

You heard the door open, just as you bent down to the ground. You grabbed at your chest, a sob wracking through you now. It was loud, almost like a cry for help. And then you were on your knees, breathing lightly again. 

But you didn’t cry. You couldn’t let yourself. Your leg throbbed as you sat on it, but you didn’t care. 

You didn’t care in the slightest.

+

You found yourself in The Tipsy Bison again. Seth wasn’t there, but instead it was a woman you didn’t know the name of that was bartending for the evening. It was busy, busier than you expected it to be for a week night, and you hid yourself in the corner as you sipped on a glass of bourbon. 

The stool next to you swiveled, and you turned to find James sitting next to you. 

“Evening.” He said politely, a smile dusting his face. You leaned your head slightly to glance at him, a drunken sad smile plastered on your face. 

“Evenin’.” You watched as he sipped his beer, swallowing down a grimace. “You drinking away your sorrows too?”

“Hm? Oh, no I’m actually here with someone.”

Here with someone.

“Oh.” You sat up straighter.

“My sister, right over there.” He pointed to a young girl across the bar, who couldn’t have been older than eighteen. You sighed, letting your body fall into the chair again. 

“Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yeah,” James rubbed the back of his neck. “Shes at home a lot with our mom. Both of ’em stay in.”

“Do you live with them?” You asked, glancing back over at his sister who was laughing with another girl. 

“Yeah, I feel like I kinda have to live with them.” You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. 

“How come?”

“I feel like I gotta take care of ‘em.” James swallowed, and you saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. He changed the subject, after taking a swig of his beer. “What are ya doin’ all by yourself?” Your finger glided over the glass, tracing the top of it.

“Like I said, drinking away my sorrows.” You downed the rest of the glass, slamming it on the counter. James nodded again, taking a sip from his beer. 

“How’s, uh, the thing with Joel going?” 

You stiffened, turning your head to look outside now. 

“It’s fine. He’s still an asshole.”

“You think so?” James took a swig from his beer again, eyebrows stuck together in curiosity. 

“I know so.”

“I’ve heard he’s just a little… rude but nothing too bad. He’s starting to get himself known in this town. He seems to be fitting right in.”

Fitting right in. 

You don’t know why but that made you so angry. He’d been here only a month, yet he knew more people than you did. He’d only been here a fucking month yet…

“My sisters hollering for me. Talk to you later?” James had started to stand, and you turned towards him giving him an absent smile. 

“Yeah, I’ll… talk to you later.” You watched him leave, your fingers playing with your drink again.

“I was lookin’ for ya,” Tommy sat down where James had just left, crossing out your view of him. “Thought you’d be home…”

“Needed a drink.” You lifted the glass up, showing it to him. Tommy nodded, getting the attention of the bartender. 

“Well, looks like I need one too.” 

A beer was then placed in front of him seconds later, and he took a long swig from it. 

“So, how is training going? With Joel?” 

“Good.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. It’s going very well.” You threw a sarcastic smile his way, watching the way he narrowed his eyes at you. He looked down at your leg that was hanging in the air.

“And your leg?” His head jutted out towards your leg.

“Better. Henrietta said it might be a few more months until I feel normal again. But she also said patrol in the near future wouldn’t be bad. As long as I’m on a horse for most of it.” 

“Well, I spoke with Maria and she thinks after a few more of these… sessions with Joel you both can be on patrol.” 

“Thank god. I can’t wait to be back on patrol with Eugene.” You shifted in your seat.

“Eugene?” Tommy’s hand curled around his beer. You nodded, turning your whole body to face him now.

“Actually about that…” Your face fell. “I’ve been talking to Maria and she wants me to be off of patrol for a little bit longer…” 

“How long?” Tommy paused. “How long, Tommy?”

“Until winter. Maybe the fall… I don’t know but Maria needs me here. Especially after this morning.” you looked away from him, downing the rest of your drink before slamming it back on the bar.

“Then who’s gonna patrol with Joel?” But a part of you already knew the answer by the way Tommy was looking at you. Like you’d already answered your own question.

“No. No way. I’m not-“

“I need you to do this for me. It… makes the most sense. Joel doesn’t know anyone else but you-“

“He seems to be fittin’ in just fine to me.”

“Listen,” Tommy moved around in his seat, moving in to sit closer to you. “I know y'all don’t really get along. But I need y'all to. I don’t want my son growing up around a bunch of bitchy-“

“Hey!” You sat up slapping his arm. Tommy let out a huff, trying to hide a laugh. “We don’t bitch.” Tommy gave you a look that said really?

“We just argue sometimes. Besides, we get along just fine now. It seems like he’s…”

And then you noticed it. No you realized. In a way that was debilitating. In a way that made your heart tingle, a tight and sinking feeling coming from inside your chest.

You realized right away the way people started to know Joel by name. The way that he knew people by name. More than you ever did. The way his shoulders weren’t as tense as they were two weeks ago; like they had slowly, but surely, sunken into a calmer state. The way he fit in. He fit in so well, somehow it made you realize something. 

Even if Joel didn’t notice it himself, you did. That not only was Joel trying. Not only was he doing more in the two months he’d been here than the amount of time you’d been here. But he was something you wished you were.

You wished you fit into this town. You wished you knew people by name. But you couldn’t. 

You wondered what he did in his free time. You’d seen him exit various shops, you’d even seen him talking to men you didn’t know the name of. But shouldn’t you know their names?

No. No, you shouldn’t. They’re just people. Breathing living creatures that will eventually die, one way or another. Names were not important to you. 

But, Tommy…

Tommy was different, you told yourself. Tommy was Tommy. Tommy tried to get you to make more friends. To actually act like you enjoyed living. But he never succeeded. There were few you knew by name, but many knew you. 

And you didn’t know why, but seeing Joel so…normal. So not like the man you thought you knew. So different from the Joel you first met. It was almost like it was an entirely different person. 

And then you thought back to the day in his home. Were you snooping? 

No, you couldn’t have been. But you were only looking. Eyes wandering, watching him.

You were curious. You were only looking. Watching through the crack. And now it felt like a broken promise. Something you shouldn’t have done. Something to be ashamed of. 

And then you remembered the way he played the guitar. You saw a part of Joel you never had seen before. A Joel only Tommy or Ellie had come to know. A Joel you never thought you’d know; a Joel that you wanted to know-

No, fuck. You didn’t want to know Joel.

But somewhere deep inside you did. You felt like he understood you in a way that Tommy didn’t. In a way that no one did. Because you both lost people. In the most gruesome of ways.

And even as much as you hated to admit it. Joel was just like you; cold-hearted manners and all.

Tommy said your name, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“-is that right?” Your eyes widened like a doe’s. 

“Sorry, repeat that?” Tommy’s face softened, his head titling to the side. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah just tired. What were you sayin’?”

“What’s wrong?” You shook your head.

“Nothings wrong-“

“You're playing with your fingers.” You looked down at your hands which were red and scuffed, blood already seeping from your thumbs. You let your hands stop at your side. 

Tommy wanted you to try. And maybe, you’d finally let yourself try. It could have been the alcohol talking, or maybe it was somewhere deep down inside of you finally coming to the surface. 

“Remember what you said to me? When I came back after leavin’?” Tommy thought for a moment.

“I said a lotta things-“

“You said you wanted me to make more friends. To… try.” You swallowed, the liquor pouring out your deepest thoughts. “I want to try. But I feel as though… as though it won’t matter. That I’m just… stuck. Frozen in time. I’m still-“ 

Your breath hitched in your throat, reclusive memories pulling you back. Things you thought you had hidden from yourself, all came spilling back at once. And then you remembered why you didn’t drink alcohol.

“You moved on. You have a fucking baby” your eyes watered “and what do I have? A limp and a fucking attitude.” You smiled, sniffling to hide the sob that was willing to escape at any second. 

“I have a baby. But I have you to thank for that. I have you to thank for even bein’ here.” You'd saved Tommy’s life a multitude of times. But, it wasn't just for him. It was for yourself. Because god, you were selfish. You'd do anything to save him. 

Anything. 

“Remember when we first met?” You asked, eyebrows raising. You remember Tommy telling the tale well, but he left out some key details. 

He left out how you both were fucking like animals day and night. How Tommy told you he loved you after only knowing you for a month. How Tommy promised to never leave you. 

And he didn’t. He never left you. You both had just changed from acting like rabid animals to realizing it would never work out between you both. 

It was also a release, wound up with each other because it was convenient. You'd both fallen apart in a world that was shrinking, able to put your pieces back together. You never admitted it, but Tommy saved you. Whether he knew it or not, you knew there was a part of you that saved him too. 

“Always. You pointed that shotgun right in my face, screamin’ at me to leave. Thought you were gonna blow my fuckin’ head off.” Tommy laughed, taking another sip from his bourbon. 

“I considered it. But your face was too damn pretty.” Tommy laughed again.

“Mhm, well glad someone thought so.” A lump formed in your throat. 

“I still think about it,” It crawled out of you, unwanted. Escaping from your mouth like some sort of unspoken phrase. “Everyday.” Tommy’s eyes glistened.

“I know.”

“Sometimes I imagine what…” you stopped yourself. “I’m sorry about the way I acted. I didn’t mean to seem unhappy. I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy for you Tommy.” A tear rolled down your cheek, as much as you fought it. “It just reminded me-” 

“It’s okay. C’mere.” Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, his hand rubbing your back. Soft strokes back and forth, rubbing the tense muscles there. And you sank, letting your body rest in his grip. 

And for the first time in years, you let yourself go. 

You let yourself cry.

<- Previous Chapter

A/N: hi my loves! so sorry this chapter is out way later than I’d wanted it to be but I kept editing it and didn’t like where it was going. I also really need a beta so if anyone would like to be my beta for this fic that would be so so appreciated!:) i especially want someone to think about my characterization of Joel which is a big thing for me. Getting his character right is something that I try so hard to do and I feel I’ve done a pretty okay job. This is show Joel but it could also be read as game Joel (I personally separate them). But anyway, this chapter is heavy on the fmc and probably my least favorite. It also includes her background plus some other stuff! Not too much Joel but the next chapter will be JOEL HEAVY! thanks for reading! :)

Masterlist

[crystalflygeo]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Omega!Dragoness!Reader

cw/tags: This chapter has no smut but still contains highly suggestive themes and sexual implications. Mentions of slavery and past sexual abuse on fem!reader, A/B/O dynamics and heat mentions. fem!reader suffers with self-worth and bad memories, including past insults and abuse.

notes: After so long finally part 2!! EEEEEEEE I am so excited but also so nervous pls ;w; like if you want the first part can be read as a standalone and have a "happy ending" but now I am committed to the emotional roller coaster, A/B/O dynamics and LONG BURN PINING so yep >:3c hope this does justice to everyone's expectation tho. And hope you like it and accompany me on this tale hehe

As a lil sidenote brackets [] now indicate past actions/words and bad memories, regular italics for emphasis, inner thoughts or the little pinyin I sprinkled here (which btw is taken straight from genshin wiki so...).

<- Part 1 Part 3 ->

Being precious all of the sudden was… different.

Your hand subconsciously kept touching your bonding mark, as if to make sure it was still there, to soothe you.

After a quick meal just between Zhongli and you, consisting of some soft rice buns and delicious minced meat packaged inside a crispy pastry shell, you were then offered some new clothes. It was much more elaborate and certainly more layered than anything you’d worn before: a long skirt and flowy sleeves in a silky soft fabric, beautifully embroidered and hastily modified to make a hole for your tail to slip out. A sash keeping everything in place while accentuating your figure. You immediately loved it although it felt a little heavy and restricting.

Now, you quietly follow Zhongli as he leads you around the palace. He’s back to his former fully-human appearance, wearing an elegant attire, and everywhere you go, people bow at him and cast curious silent glances at you. It was rather unnerving.

It’s fine, you are used to being stared at, judged. You hold your tail up close for comfort.

The place is huge and you quickly get lost trying to map it out in your head, simply following along until you reach a large room with a few simple beds scattered around. Bookcases and cabinets stacked the walls, filled with all sorts of books, papers, jars and things. A pungent smell present in the air.

A green-haired man leans over a desk, glasses perched on his nose as he frantically scribbles some notes. What seems like powders and plants litter the space around him, along with a few more glass containers, incense, and a tea set with a steaming fresh cup.

“Baizhu.” Zhongli’s voice calls and you stiffen a little, hearing it again after a while of silence. It is still warm and deep but with a more reserved and regal tone like when he first met you.

The green-haired man (a Beta, you recognize) looks up and blinks in surprise, then smiles brightly and says some words you do not understand, you shuffle in place.

“Yes, this is her.” Zhongli replies. “I will ask you to speak in in common tongue so she can understand as well, I don’t want to unnecessarily unnerve her.”

Well, that is… very considerate. It eases you a little.

“Of course, your majesty.” He turns to you, his eyes were a bright amber, also with slitted pupils. Was it common in liyuens? “My name is Baizhu, the royal doctor and apothecary, pleased to meet you, empress.”

Empress?!

“E-Empress?!” You can’t help but blurt out.

“Why of courssse.” A high-pitched voice hisses and you almost jump when a white snake peaks her head from her coils at the desk, staring up at you. “You’re mated to hisss majesssty the emperor, sssso, it would be underssstood you’re now the empresssss.” Her split tongue flickers.

Baizhu chuckles. “Changsheng, be nice.”

You don’t know what to answer, mostly because you’re still reeling from the fact that you’re apparently now an empress, and because there’s a talking snake.

Liyue is weird…

“I decided to bring her here exactly because of that.” Zhongli turns to you and suddenly holds one of your hands, softly, staring at you with such affection it makes you melt. “Darling, would you let him check your bonding mark for a moment?”

You’re a little nervous, but it is not like you can refuse… right? You nod quietly.

Baizhu approaches and examines your neck and you fight the urge not to flinch or growl. No Omega likes it when a stranger is so close to such a sensitive spot. He hums and tilts his head but doesn’t touch you. “It seems it’s already healed due to her illuminated beast blood but the scar is present. I’d say the bond has been properly established, congratulations your majesty.” He smiles warmly.

A grateful bubbly feeling creeps up your chest. Properly established. So, it’s true.

You feel Zhongli’s hand squeeze yours lightly and look down at it, then back up at him. “Thank you, Baizhu. I will not keep you any longer. We still have a lot to do and I’m sure you do as well.”

Baizhu bows at him (at both of you, you realize) and then you’re on your way. Not before hearing the snake’s hissy whispers again

“A fine yin, hm…?”

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

This is… your new home.

Zhongli shows you around some of the areas in what he called the “inner court” of the palace complex. Everything is so… large and open and lavish it has your head spinning, your eyes darting in every direction trying to take in all at once, walking fast on your new clothes. He guides you along the dining hall, a small temple, crosses through an enormous main hall where he explains audiences are held, and then a gorgeous outer garden that completely takes your breath away.

The wooden gilded architecture in golds and reds, the fresh wind and gentle sun. All sorts of new sounds and smells. The painted walls and high ceilings. The new plants and flowers. The chatters in a different language… everything is so distinct from the desert.

You soak in the new environment. Inhaling deeply.

It is both terrifying and exhilarating.

Finally, he guides you to another room, it looks similar to the nest room where you’d first been at, but larger. It is sparsely decorated with a large and comfy looking-bed, a desk, mirror and a small table with a couple chairs and a tea set. It smells nice enough.

You peek up at Zhongli.

“This will be your room.” He explains.

…What?

“We kept it simple for now but you are, of course, free to furnish and decorate it however you’d like. It’s close to my own room and anything you might need.”

Wait what?

Your ears lower down and you seem to deflate a little, disappointed. “H-Huh? But… I-I won’t be sleeping with you?” You ask softly.

Mated pairs sleep together, don’t they? They share living chambers and mix their scents together to symbolize their union. That’s what you’ve always been told. You are to always be near your Alpha, at his beck and call, warm up his bed and be ready to please.

Maybe things are different in Liyue? Or maybe it’s because he’s an emperor. Master didn’t tell you anything, so maybe you are just making a fool of yourself right now on your-

Zhongli clears his throat and looks at you a little surprised “I simply thought you’d be more comfortable having your own space, we… don’t really know each other very well yet, and I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Impose? As in order? But he’s your Alpha! “B-But I want to! Please! I-I mean… I thought that since we’re b-bonded…” You mumble shyly.

His cheeks turn a little pink, you like when that happens, he looks a lot less serious. He cups your cheek and you inhale looking up at those gorgeous golden eyes. “My dear dragoness. I don’t want you to feel forced to do anything you don’t want to. I know you were raised… differently, I cannot claim to understand your experiences, but listen to me: you are safe here.” He says the last part slowly, enunciating each word. “No one will scold you or punish you, least of all me. I want you to be free to speak and choose what you want.” He sighs. “Though I know it’ll be difficult...”

Furnish, impose, free… you don’t know any of those words.

But no punishment, to choose what you want, to be safe… it sounds surreal even.

What do you want?

His eyes soften at your nervous silence. “Let’s try this… do you really want to share my room, or would you like to stay here? I won’t be upset if you do.”

“I…” Your tail curls around you. “I want to stay with you. Sleep together. Like mates.” You mumble.

“Then it would be my honor, however, this room will stay ready if you change your mind, alright?” You glance around at the room again, and nod. “Now that that is settled, I have one last thing to do. I need to introduce you to a few very special people before I leave to-”

“Leave?!”

You didn’t mean to yelp like that.

“J-just to do my duties, I am not leaving you, I promise.” He corrects, a little taken aback. “I am sorry my dear, but as much as I’d like to spend every moment by your side right now, I have a few pressing matters to tend to. I know you’re nervous, everything is new and scary and overwhelming but I promise I’ll leave you in good hands and be back as soon as I can.”

You nod, now feeling a little embarrassed at the whole ordeal. You’d been feeling so at ease with his presence, showing you around, listening to his voice name and explain everything you saw that you’d almost forgotten. “You’re the emperor, I’m sure you’re very busy. No need to worry about me, I’ll behave, my lord.”

He frowns a little at that but says nothing, and you choose to say nothing else either.

Going back to the main hall, you immediately spot three people lined up looking at you with a mix of the already expected curiosity and excitement. One of them in particular immediately catches your attention, he’s an Alpha and you can’t help but feel a little nervous…

“Allow me to introduce you, these three are my most loyal and closest council members: Ping, Ganyu and Xiao.” Zhongli gestures at them and all three bow lightly. “Like you and I they all have the blood of xiānshòu, and you can ask them for anything should you need help or have questions. I hope you learn to trust them and feel at ease.”

You nod quietly, still a bit fixated on the other Alpha.

“Xiao, or general Alatus, is one of Liyue’s strongest, most resilient and skilled warriors. He usually keeps guard at the palace to ensure my wellbeing and now yours as well, if you ever feel danger call out his name and he’ll come.”

Ah, did they notice you were staring…?

With a gesture of his hand Xiao manifests a gorgeous Jade spear, crystalline green shards reflecting light as he taps it by his side, standing firm, you flinch in surprise. “My spear shall now serve you too, empress.” His eyes too are golden and sharp, filled with a certain rigidness and determination you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Thank you, Xiao, dismissed.”

Xiao hums quietly and promptly disappears in a burst of black and green smoke, you stand there a little startled, your hand clings to the brown fabric of Zhongli’s sleeve.

“He might be an Alpha as well, but I promise you he’ll cause you no harm.” Your alpha murmurs softly towards you.

“O-okay…” You squeak, a bit embarrassed.

“Ganyu here is one of the most reliable people in the palace, perhaps the entirety of Liyue. Everything of importance reaches her ears and passes through her eyes. She’s able to organize meetings, events, report, compile information and assist every negotiation and decision of this palace with stunning efficiency. She too will help you with anything you need and might be in charge of a little logistics regarding you settling in for the next few days.” Zhongli smiles.

The young woman with long blue hair and… horns? chuckles and blushes a little. “Your majesty, you're too kind, I merely love doing my job.” She puts her hands together and beams at you, sunset eyes bright. “I’m so honored to meet you, rest assured I’ll take care of anything you need. I hope you feel comfortable and welcome at the palace!”

That sounded like a lot. You weren’t used to people coddling you like this. You didn’t want to give anyone trouble or work. “T-that’s alright, thank you.”

“Now, Ping is probably going to spend the most time with you, she’s very knowledgeable in culture, history and the inner workings of the palace amongst other things. She has graciously offered to teach you liyuen and anything else you’d be interested in.”

Unlike the other two Ping has a certain calm aura to her, contrasting Xiao’s seriousness and Ganyu’s excited energy. You can tell she’s a gentle old soul as she approaches you with a soft wrinkled smile and graying hair.

“Don’t worry young empress, while Lord Morax here is regrettably busy with a work-packed schedule,” She gives him a playful side stare “You and I will have some fun. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” She takes your hand and pats it comfortingly. It’s kind of an awkward gesture for you, but you still welcome the warmth and good intentions.

Zhongli chuckles quietly. “In that case, I’ll leave you in her care and see you at night for dinner, alright?” He seems to hesitate for a moment but then cups your face in his hands and places a soft kiss at your forehead. The unexpected gesture has you blushing scarlet and your heart speeding up like crazy. His thumb brushes at the scales under your eyes, so affectionate in the smallest ways… “I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll be fine, yes?”

You stare at his golden eyes, the red lines, his handsome face framed with dark hair, his serene smile.

You don’t like this. You don’t want him to leave. The idea makes you uncomfortable.

But it’s not like you can say no.

You nod.

“Thank you, Ping.” Both of them exchange a glance and then he turns to the blue-haired woman still in the room. “Ganyu, if you will.”    

“Right away your majesty!” She scurries after him, talking quickly in foreign tongue while both walk away.

You stare after him for a moment longer.

“It’s a little difficult, isn’t it?”

You quickly turn back to Ping and then look down, ears folding back.

She laughs softly. “No need to be ashamed dear, it is understandable that you are unsure with all this, it’s a lot of changes for such a short time and you bond is still fresh, but let’s take it easy.”

Your hand brushes at Zhongli’s bonding mark again. “O-Okay…”

“Are you hungry? Tired? Perhaps you want to rest a little?”

You want to scurry away to your mate’s room and curl up there, that’s what you want, but…

“Um, aren’t you… going to train me?”

Ping blinks a little taken aback “Train? Oh! Teach?”

Same thing.

“Well, yes. I did offer, but only if you’re feeling up to it young empress. You can take your time, we don’t have to start right away. And like I said, take it easy, it's only your second day here.” She explains. “You won’t be absorbing any information if you are uncomfortable and jittery like this.”

“S-sorry-”

“No need to apologize at all. Now tell me, is there anything you’ve seen or heard today that you’re curious about, anything you want to do?”

What you want…

You think back a few hours earlier. The infirmary, the small temple, the grand hall, and…

“The garden.” You speak. “Can we go outside and see?”

Ping smiles brightly. “Of course! I’m sure there are a lot of things there that will catch your interest and cheer you up.”

Your tail sways a little after you as you follow the old lady along the corridors.

------------------------         

The garden is breathtaking.

More than a garden it feels like a whole different world. Bright and exciting and colorful, full of life. It reminds you of an Oasis, but just… more!

A grand pond with multicolored fishes and a couple of turtles sunbathing. Walk paths made of stone, plants everywhere you see: in trees with vibrant yellows, oranges and all shades of greens, in flowers with soft colors and small petals, in thick bushes. The light filters through the leaves and there’s the soft tweets of small birds.

“It’s… so pretty!” You exclaim happily.

“I’m glad you think so. Gardens like this are carefully cared for and preserved to impress, but they also represent beauty, abundance a sense of harmony.” Ping explains as she is now the one following after you, skipping along the path. “These trees you see are sandbearers, and that one is a ginkgo tree, you can tell the difference by the shapes of their leaves.” She points at each one and you follow with your gaze, picking a small leaf from the floor, golden and fan-shaped.

“Ooh…”

“See those smaller fishes? They’re goldfishes. The bigger ones are kois.” She gestures at the animals freely swimming around. Some of them are huge!

“What do they eat?” You blurt out.

“Well, usually algae and wheat. We can get some another day and you can feed them.”

“Really?!”

“Of course.”

“Oh! Is that a koi too? It’s so… long and pretty.”

“Ah, that one is a golden koi. Lord Morax has a few of them here. They are also called Jīnchì Jiǎlóng or ‘false dragons’ you know? For the small horns and long bodies. They do resemble your tail a little, don’t they?”

You move your tail forward and stare at it, then stare at the serpentine fish.     

“Yes, sort of… Jin chi… jia long.” You mumble.

“Here, I think you’ll like these ones. Come with me.” You eagerly follow after Ping as she rounds the pond and guides you towards a few red bushes. They’re dotted with pink round flowers. “These are silk flowers, Nícháng-huā, usually harvested to make clothes, but there are many special ornamental variants and between us both, your dear mate has a weak spot for these so he has quite the collection.” She chuckles.

“Orna…metal?”

“Ornamental, it means mostly for decoration.”

“Oh!” Suddenly you feel dumb, you’d thought for a second that was a liyuen word too. “I’m sorry… I don’t even know common tongue very well.” How could you even expect to learn liyuen?

“No worries, dear, learning a new language is a daunting task, it takes a bit of work every day. If you keep learning, using and practicing words, you’ll get there.”

You smiled softly. Ping was so… patient and supportive.

So much different from…

[You have to try harder.]

[Tch that is not good enough.]

[Are you stupid?!]

[Useless omega.]

You looked at the budding silk flowers and blinked. Once. Twice. Why was your vision blurry now? What was this feeling?

“Oh, oh young empress please don’t cry. It’s alright” Ping’s alarmed remark helps you understand. She fusses over you. “Are you ok?”

You wipe at your tears and smile, a genuine bright smile.

“I’m fine.”

And this time, you truly mean it.

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

After a rather fancy bath (the kind of like you used to take before being presented to Alphas, with bubbles and scented oils...) and a good dinner Zhongli and you headed over for his chambers for the night. You couldn’t help but be a little… nervous.

This is stupid. He’s your Alpha.

He’s been nothing but kind to you.

What if he wants to… d-do things?

Then you’ll do it. He’s your mate. It’s your obligation.

You were the one who chose this anyway.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, anxiety creeping up your chest. Were your fingers trembling? Was the room suddenly cold?

As expected, the bedroom was quite matching his style. Golds, browns and a bit of red and black here and there. Dragon imagery adorning some of the walls, a tea cabinet with a small table and shelves filled with all sorts of trinkets from precious stones and books to a beautiful fan and a tea set.

And then there was the bed.

A large canopy bed, enough to probably have your body and tail fully stretched across and still fit in the mattress, beautifully decorated and filled with fabrics and pillows.

The scent of Zhongli’s Alpha pheromones was definitely strong.

He yawns and runs a hand along his forehead, combing along his hair before pulling out the clip on it, letting his long dark locks spill free. He takes off his robe revealing his naked torso and you jolt.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.           

You undress as well into your light sleeping clothes and gingerly slip into his bed, curling up around his pillows, surrounded by his scent.

His.

You are his.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine-

“Darling, is everything alright? Are you uncomfortable?” He asks concerned, climbing on the bed as well and reaching out to touch your arm. You squeak. “You’re… terrified, what’s wrong?” Then Zhongli’s eyes widen a little. “Oh. The scent… I completely overlooked that, my apologies. Is it too strong? Are you ok? Should have given you some things earlier for you to scent and include them here. This is no good…” He rambles a bit to himself as he sits up and crosses his arms thoughtfully.

You stare at him, anxiety still surging through your veins but now mixed in with confusion.

“Would you like to sleep in the other room we prepared for you instead?” He sighs.

“I… t-this is… you… would just let me leave?”

Zhongli tilts his head slightly, now he looks confused.

“I promised you that the room would be available-”

“So, you don’t want to mate?”

Silence.

He stares at you for a moment as you grip at the bedsheets, still tense.

His eyes widen as realization settles in.

Ah. The pink dusting in his cheeks is back.

“Y-You thought that… no! My dear, no, no, no…” He coughs into his fist awkwardly. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong idea. A-As I said before I want you to be comfortable and feel safe. No Alpha will force you to do anything you don’t want. Not even me. And you don’t have to feel forced to do things you don’t want to, either.”

You look down. Although you feel slightly more relieved.

“I want to stay here. A-and if you want to, I’ll service you, my lord. I was just… nervous, sorry.”

“I assure you there is no need for any of that.” He says softly. “Here.”

He pulls the covers and slips them over you both, lying down facing you but still keeping a little distance. You do the same, curled up face to face with him.

He’s so effortlessly handsome.

And kind.

And you like him.

But he’s still an Alpha.

“Is this alright? We’re just going to sleep, I promise.” He brushes some hair away from your face.

You nod.

“Is there… anything you want to talk about or ask me?”

You... don’t know.

You shake your head.

“Hmmm. Want to share about your day? What were you up to with Ping?” He gives you a playful smile. Suddenly he feels less like an imposing strict emperor, or like a scary Alpha. He’s just your Zhongli.

“She… showed me the garden. I wanted to see.”

“Ah, the royal garden has many fascinating sights and it’s a beautiful landscape to retreat to and ease one’s mind. I had the feeling you’d be interested.”

“There were so many beautiful things. She taught me about the silk flowers, nícháng-huā. And all the trees and fishes and birds.”

“Oh? Are these your first words in liyuen, my dear?”

You giggle. “I… suppose they are. She also showed me your turtles Jiàn and Fù and told me what their names mean, they are so cute. Oh! And we saw the liúlí bah… bai… bǎihé! I sang to them and they bloomed! It was... amazing.”

“I see. Not everyone can achieve that, I’ll admit I’m quite hopeless at singing.” He chuckles “What more did you learn?”

Feeling much more content and at ease you continue retelling all the new things you had experienced and the vocabulary you had learned including how to introduce yourself and some greetings and basic words. Talking for what felt like hours until weariness and sleep claimed you both.

Zhongli simply listened and stared at you, captivated. He seemed content as well.

It made you happy.

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

For the next couple of months, you established a sort of routine.

You’d wake up early alongside Zhongli, even though you didn’t need to, you simply enjoyed having some morning tea and breakfast with him. Afterwards he’d go tend to some of his official duties and you’d stay with Ping Lǎolao, learning more and more each day. By now you could even follow some basic conversation (provided the other person didn’t speak too fast) although reading and writing was still extremely difficult.

You’d expressed interest in some gardening and even headed to the kitchens to prepare some food by yourself. The maids claimed there was no need for the empress to do such ‘menial tasks’ but as an Omega you pride yourself in certain things, and cooking for your Alpha was something you’d yearned to do.

You were overjoyed when Zhongli praised your Jade parcels.

You’d always have lunch with him and some days he’d accompany you for a stroll or you’d stay at his study for some leisure time, or even at some meetings. It had been a little unnerving at first but you also knew it was important to know others and be known in the council, as well as understand Liyue outside of the palace walls. After all, you are an empress now.

At night, you slept close to him. The initial awkwardness of sleeping at opposite sides of the bed soon traded for a much cuddlier approach, often with you curled up to Zhongli’s chest or him spooning you, tails often intertwined together. The bed and the entire room now have a mix of your combined scents, like true mates.

And so, life was good…

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

You’re slowly pulled out of your sleep as Zhongli stirs in the bed. You grumble a little and yawn, already missing his warmth. It was so pleasant…

“Good morning, my dear dragoness.”

“Morning…” You mumble, not opening your eyes and instead blindly reaching for his pillow to hug and cling to. “Can we stay for longer?” You whine.

“You definitely can, but I have to go.” He kisses your forehead “Rest, my dear.”

You pout but say nothing. Squeezing at the pillow and burying your face in it.

It smells so good…

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

“Hmm… is it warmer today?” You wonder aloud as the maids help you up with the layers of your hanfu. The clothes still hot and heavy in contrast to what you used to wear at the desert, but today seemingly more so… the sash feels more constricting than usual. “I-I think I’d like to wear something a little lighter… if possible.”

“Of course, your majesty, no problem.”

You smile at them, grateful.

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

Sitting at Zhongli’s study room you practice some basic liyuen calligraphy while he seemingly goes over some important documents. The silence is comfortable and a warm cup of Qixing tea steams at both desks. Yet, something keeps bothering you.

You huff lightly, scratching and picking at the scales of your tail, irritated with the uncomfortable feeling. Why is it so itchy? A couple of them fall off, revealing new glossy ones underneath.

“Ah…” So that means…

You stop for a moment. The feverish feeling, scents being stronger on your nose, the urge to nest and cling to your mate.

Hmm… part of you is a little excited. And yet, there is fear.

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

“You have quite the appetite today, dear. Eat slowly, the food won’t go anywhere.” Ping chuckles as you practically pick a little of every dish while still trying to keep some modicum of elegance. Chopsticks weren’t that easy after all.

“Yes… I think… I think it’s my pre-heat hormones.” You sigh before munching on a shrimp ball.

Your heat…

Your first heat with Zhongli. With any Alpha to be honest. You’d always had to endure them on your own (Master couldn’t have you get pregnant) and they were excruciating and debilitating, crying out for days with your skin burning and itching, trying to sate yourself with your fingers and humping pillows. But now… you’re happily bonded.

Would it… feel good again?

Like, that first time you two mated…

You feel your cheeks heat up.

“Excuse me?”

“Hm?”

You’re brought back to reality to see Ping staring at you seemingly a little alarmed.

“Pre-heat? Young empress, are you going into heat soon?”

“Y-yeah? Probably um, tonight…? Or tomorrow.” The onsets are always so quick, and your cycle has always been more or less stable.

The elder places her chopsticks down. “Have you told Lord Morax?”

“Um. N-No, not yet. But… m-maybe he already caught on...” You tilt your head.

…Right?

Then again even you took a couple of days to identify the signs, and now for sure you were at the brink of it. Maybe he’ll mate you tonight…

Hm… how will Zhongli react to your heat scent?

You have to do your best!

[Be a good omega.]

Ping stands up, her expression still gentle but with a sort of urgency to it, your instincts catch the feeling she’s worried about something.

“I have to inform about this, please stay here dear.”

Now you’re nervous. You nod slowly.

Why does it feel like you did something wrong…?

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

After that, things get… chaotic.

It’s only a while later that you find yourself at the infirmary. Ganyu and Zhongli are also there and everyone’s anxious pheromones in the air do not sit well with you (subtle as they are, your nose is hyperaware right now).

“I’m sorry the symptoms are already settled in. At this point it is simply not feasible to give her suppressants, she has to go through this heat.” Baizhu says, looking troubled.

Feasible? Suppressants? More unknown words but…

Is there something wrong with your heat?

Ganyu scurries off and Ping starts talking with Baizhu on the other side of the room. You cling to Zhongli’s robe, trying to soothe yourself with his presence but his scent is… agitated.

You whine to call out to him. You’re scared.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Zhongli pulls you close, cupping your face again, staring straight at you. “No… no my dear dragoness, of course you didn’t, it’s just…” He steels himself searching for the right words, it doesn’t ease you in the slightest. “We didn’t expect your heat so soon. I should have known, noticed… I’m sorry.”

Why is your alpha apologizing to you? That is ridiculous.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“It’s… not the right time.”

You’re so confused.

Don’t Alphas like it when Omegas are in heat? Soft, pliant, warm, needy and ready to breed.

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated to do this…” He says. “And… you could trigger my rut, you could end up pregnant. I don’t want to… scare you, or hurt you. It’s much too soon for us to share your heat. I thought we’d have more time for you to get acclimated to Liyue or…” He shakes his head. “Nevermind. For the next few days you’ll be in a separate room, yes? No one will disturb you during your heat, I promise.”

“B-But then… I… what…?”

Alone?

“Usually omegas take suppressants, like a type of medicine, to stave off their heats so they don’t have to face these risks or suffer them alone, and then when they’re ready, when they want, they choose to share heats with their partners.” He explains.

“But I want to! I… I’ll be good!”

Zhongli sighs. “Darling you are good, you are precious to me. You don’t need to prove anything or do things because they are ‘expected’ of you.”

He’s not listening!

He asks you what you want. He says you can choose. But now that you tell him, ask him, beg him even… he denies you?

How come you’re always making the wrong choice?

Was it all a lie then?

“But I- T-then- Why-… YOU’RE CONFUSING ME!!” You yell, tears stinging in your eyes.

There are a few gasps and you see not only Baizhu and Ping, but Ganyu and some of the maids staring at you in shock. You cover your mouth, eyes wide at the sudden burst of fierceness and emotion.

You yelled at him.

You talked back.

You should be punished.

He stares at you, frozen like a statue for a few moments. You stare at him, pitiful, your eyes begging. A whimper leaves you and Zhongli lets out a shuddering breath.

Oh, your Alpha wants you, you know it.

"Please..." You mumble, voice so small.

"I'm sorry my dear, it's better this way." His hand moves towards you, to cup your face again or brush at your hair you're not sure, but he stops himself before you can find out. He sighs, averting his gaze and looking conflicted, and then turns around.

This is your punishment.

"It'll be just a few days, you'll be well-cared for. This is for the best." He says sternly, voice pinched.

And then he leaves.

Your heart shatters.

Everything is a blur after that. You’re gently guided along towards an empty nest room, the same one you'd first met him at, there are some things with both your scents on it but they feel sterile, washed anew.

Your hands start trembling. Your eyes start to water. Your lips quiver. Your throat feels tight, choked and dry. Your body feels feverish, hot and restless.

Zhongli rejected you.

“Your majesty please calm down."

[Useless.]

[Moron.]

[Whore.]

You could no longer breathe, hear nor see. You feel like you're drowning, unable to process what just happened. Your mate…your precious mate…he…he…

He abandoned you.

“Your majesty…?"

You scream.

[calculatesguilt]

40 between perceptor and rodimus

Prompt.

40. things you interrupted me to say

Perceptor had been going on and on and on about something or other of the implications of the life they found in some sort of nebula they passed through. Rodimus tried to pay attention. He really did! But as soon as Perceptor pulled out the word Astrobiological he felt his attention check out.

Instead, he focuses on the way Percy's hands move as he speaks, the way his lips move as he enunciates each, increasingly jargonistic, word. He narrows his eyes, wondering what it would be if given the opportunity to... no, no, that's silly.

Perceptor is, well, he can't imagine he sees him as anything other than his captain.. He's fucked up one too many times, and he wonders why he's even here still. On the Lost Light. After... He can't imagine Overlord was encouraging. Nor the addition of Megatron to their crew. Though, Percy never seemed too bothered by the latter.

"Do you follow?" Perceptor's question draws him out of his thoughts.

Rodimus waves his hand dismissively from where he's sat backwards on Percy's chair. "Yeah, yeah, astrobiological diversity in organic life."

Perceptor smiles, only just, and Rodimus feels ill at the sight. Primus this is getting out of hand.

Percy goes back to rambling, turning to the monitor and quickly typing something out to pull up images taken from the probe he sent out. The passion in his voice, the excitement, it's a stark contrast to the Wrecker he had come to know years back when he ended up tagging along after being stranded.

And it's... it's good to see. It's good to know that he brought that out in him.

He wants to kiss him. The thought is so jarring—

"What?" Perceptor says.

Oh kill him now, did he really say that out loud? "What?"

They stare at each other, a beat of silence.

"Can we uh... pretend I didn't say that?"

"No."

"Alright. Cool. I'm just going to leave."

"Rodimus—"

"Nope. I'm going." Before he could scramble off in utterly mortified shame, Perceptor grabs his arm.

"Captain." There is a gentle firmness in the scientist's voice, as he lets go when he's certain Rodimus won't flee the scene.

Rodims fidgets, only to notice Perceptor is fidgeting with his own hands. There is a nervous glint in his eyes he hadn't noticed before. An almost... shyness.

"Rodimus... I... ah... well, I would not be opposed."

"Really?" Rodimus is surprised, to say the very least. Perceptor is very handsome, there's no denying that, and charming in his own weird way, but he's also married to his work. He set it in his mind that the scientist would be completely untouchable.

This is... well it's a turn and he has no idea what to do now.

Perceptor nods, then quickly adds, "Ah but... preferably not when I am in the middle of talking... Perhaps we should... talk about this more? Later. When you are free and I am not busy with these biomarkers."

"Yeah! Yeah. Yeah sounds good to me. Can this... also just stay between us? I hate rumors going around the crew about me."

"Yes, Captain. Now... where was I? Ah, right! Biomarkers..."

[glimmeringtwilight]

The Lone and Level Sands - Chapter 5

Tempted to write a Childe oneshot between chapters as well because this fic was initially intended to be like. A series of oneshots under the same premise, but then Zhongli's first chapter became 4k words, so I worked on a second, which also became 4k....... Yeah.

I'm also considering writing some SAGAU stuff but I'm not sure what. Maybe I'll start with hcs.

Crossposted on AO3 HERE.

Masterlist: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four |

CW: Non-consensual drugging, non-consensual touching (NOT sexual), angst. Idk.

“You should eat something.” He says. 

“Did you drug the food?” 

“No.” He doesn’t even bat an eye at the accusation. No indignation, no playing coy and acting confused as to why you’d be suspicious of it. At least he’s self aware. 

“Did you drug the tea? The wine?” 

“You don’t have to drink either, should you wish not to. I can fetch you a glass of water, instead?” That doesn’t answer your question. He knows it doesn’t answer your question, just as he knows you’re not stupid. The implication is clear.

Maybe it’s not better that he’s self aware. 

“Whatever.” You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you could fold in on yourself if only to escape his stare. “Just start talking.”

Zhongli finally closes his eyes, freeing you from the weight of his gaze. You let out a quiet, relieved breath. “Very well. You have known me as Zhongli, but before that I went by a different name.” A pause, as he considered something. “You heard what happened at the last Rite of Descension?”

There’s a sinking feeling in your gut. You nod. Then, realizing his eyes are shut and he can’t see the motion, you quickly mutter a quiet ‘yes’ so he doesn’t open those eyes again and pin you under his stare.

“Mm. And do you believe it?”

“I don’t really care.” Liar. You do. But he doesn’t need to know that. “If he’s dead, he’s dead. Everything dies eventually.” 

If he’s bothered by your blasé response, he doesn’t show it. If anything, you think you see a smile threatening the corners of his mouth. “And if I told you he wasn’t?”

“Stop beating around the bush.” You snap. You just want him to get the crazy shit out of his system. Maybe he’ll let you go once it’s run its course. …Maybe he’ll kill you. Or, maybe he’ll at least let you retreat to the guest bedroom again so you can shut him and the world out with sleep. 

“Fine. Before I was known as Zhongli, I lived as Morax-”

“Yeah, and I’m a purple geovishap.” It leaves your mouth before you can stop yourself, wincing when those eyes snap back open to stare at you. It makes sense. It makes sense but you don’t want to believe it. Of course he has the Conqueror of Demons at his beck and call if he’s motherfucking Morax, God of War. But you don’t want to believe it. You won’t. If you deny it, it stops being true. So, it’s not true. It’s not. 

You cling to denial like a lifeline, because it’s better than the alternative. Better than accepting how well and truly fucked you are, because of course he couldn’t be a regular-ass dude. The universe could never be that kind to you. If anything, this is karma, isn’t it? For the promise you whispered to life into the stars, of hate and malice, of an endless cycle chasing revenge. 

“What would it take to convince you?” He asks suddenly, ripping you out of your spiraling thoughts. 

“Huh?”

Sunset eyes appraise you for a long moment, before he begins removing his rings, setting them on the table beside his cup. When he tugs off a glove, you speak up. 

“Woah, woah-” The act isn’t even anything lewd, but seeing Zhongli undress even a little bit is jarring. You’ve seen him in more casual clothes, sure, but always with long sleeves and gloves. What the fuck is he doing? “I’m not interested in a strip show.”

He takes off his other glove. 

“Look! I believe you, ok? You’re Morax! Ok. Sure. Whatever. Put your gloves back on-” “Am I not allowed to get comfortable in my own home?” He’s teasing you again. Motherfucker. You want to throw your drink at him. You would, actually, had he not just told you he’s the God of War. Yeah, no. Suddenly, it’s not worth it. 

“Not in front of me, you’re not. I didn’t consent to seeing this.” 

“They’re just hands, my dear. Do my hands bother you that much?” 

“Yes.” He suddenly looks a little smug, and you immediately backtrack. “No. No, I mean.” 

Maybe it is worth it to throw your drink at him. But before you can decide which to throw, the tea or the wine, Zhongli speaks up again. 

“What I wanted to show you…” He begins, outstretching an arm across the table for you to see better. You gawk when the skin of his hand darkens, growing claws, gold markings like tattoos flaring to life on his wrist and the back of his hand. “Is this.”

It’s… damning evidence. You remember reading about Morax’s appearance, the glowing markings, geo etching itself across his being. It’s beautiful. 

Part of you wants to reach out and touch it, and it’s like he seems to sense this, outstretching his hand further so it’s within reach. Instead, you bite your cheek, snap yourself out of your awe, and lean heavily back into your chair. 

The offending hand retreats. You blink and it’s normal again, the only sign it ever happened being the tattoos you see on his exposed skin.

“The food’s getting cold.” He says mildly as he slips back on his gloves. 

You cross your arms, glaring down at the plate that sits untouched in front of you. “I’m not hungry.”

You watch him carefully as he pours himself another cup of tea, taking a sip. …Surely that tea is safe? He wouldn’t drug himself. “Let me rephrase that: You’re staying here until you eat something.”

He doesn’t flinch at your glare. You don’t budge. 

“Don’t be difficult. I’ll feed you myself if I must.”

That spurs you into action, hesitantly taking a spoon to try some of the soup in front of you. As much as you distrust him, as likely as it is the food is drugged, you don’t want to tempt him to force feed you. 

Zhongli looks pleased as you do, but from the way he isn’t watching you like a hawk, instead focusing on his own meal, you wonder if he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t drug your food. 

You eat in silence, stomaching as much of the meal as you can. Slowly, though, in the hopes that if you eat slow enough you can catch the drugs kicking in and stop before it does any damage. Not that it’d work, but it’s worth a shot. 

To his credit… or to whoever’s credit it is that made the meal, it’s delicious. Unfortunately. It’d be easier to hate this ordeal if it were disgusting. Or bland, at the very least.

Zhongli– what do you even call him anymore?– doesn’t say anything more, seemingly content with your company. You wait until he’s preoccupied with his own meal before deciding to pour yourself a new cup of tea, from the same pot he was drinking from. Whether his lack of reaction is a good or a bad sign, you’re not sure. 

The tea is faintly sweet on your tongue, a far cry from the bitterness of whatever he drugged you with last time, so you figure there’s nothing wrong with it, taking less and less tentative sips. 

He finally speaks up, done, you suppose, with granting you the mercy of strained silence. No, why would he let you sit there and glare daggers at him in incensed quiet, wishing you could strike him dead with looks alone? Instead, he begins to talk– not to you, more at you, and you feel so out of place, suddenly. 

Like a new doll, set on the highest shelf in this lavish, empty, unlived in home. His voice fades to background noise. You stare at the assortment of food in front of you, at the heavy curtains blocking the light from the windows, at the untarnished and almost new rug decorating the floor.

You dimly realize your mistake in drinking the tea when Zhongli rises from his seat, realizing you were staring absently down at the table in a haze. You realize your mistake when he steps over to you, kneeling beside your chair to gently ease you into his arms, and instead of skittering away, instead of throwing your still-hot tea into his eyes, you can only stare blearily up at him. You realize your mistake when the only rebellion you can muster through the fog that snuck up on you is a slurred “fuck you” that you’re not even sure sounded like it at all. 

Bastard, you think absently, of course he drugged the tea. And of course it doesn’t affect him. 

In hindsight, it was foolish to think a sedative could have the same effect on him as it does you. But you can’t even bitch at him for lying to you, because technically, he didn’t, but your pride still stings indignantly at the knowledge that he definitely tricked you. Not that you can say much in your current state anyway. 

“How are you feeling, my dear?” Zhongli asks, his voice slicing through the haze. 

You show him your favorite finger. He tuts. 

Somehow, the two of you were in the living room. Weren’t you just in the dining room? It felt like you’d only blinked and suddenly the scenery around you changed, but your vision is too blurry anyway to focus on much besides those intense amber eyes. 

He sets you on the couch and you slur out a nonsensical protest, slumping and almost slipping off of it ‘til gloved hands catch you and gently prop you up so you don’t fall off. 

“...I’m sorry, I think I overestimated how much of a dose you would need.” But you’re not sorry for drugging me. Sweet. Priorities, amirite? His remorse is performative, you decide cynically, blocking out his expression by closing your eyes. 

Gloved hands card through your hair, coaxing you to lay down in Zhongli’s lap. He’s talking again, of bygone animals, songs and artworks, lost to time. Lost to war. 

You only half listen, floating listlessly in the haze forced upon you. He’s unbothered by your lack of response to his stories, by the fact you’re clearly not listening to him, not fully. He seems more content to just bask in the moment, in your presence, in your (unwilling) company.

When your hazy eyes drift back up to him, he’s in a far off place, eyes focused on the wall behind you as he recounts a story in what you’re sure is undoubtedly perfect detail. The only thing still grounding him here, to this terrible, peaceful moment, is the hand still absently petting your hair. 

Despite yourself, despite the indignant rage still simmering dimly, smothered beneath the ocean of the drug that tries to silence your rebellion, you can’t help but think he looks lonely. 

And he really is, isn’t he? There’s a weight to him, a heaviness to his gaze, a kind of old and bitter resignation, a tiredness. Living as long as he has, pain and loss and the passage of time have all spared him no mercy. 

It doesn’t excuse this. Doesn’t make it better, doesn’t kiss away the wrongness of it all, but… He’s suffered a lot. You can’t begin to imagine it; can’t begin to imagine the loneliness. And there are far too few gods, far too few immortals left for him to confide in, and far too many mortals whose lives are too fleeting to understand. 

You’re too damn much of a bleeding heart for this, you decide, averting your gaze when your own heart pangs in consolation. You’re lonely too. But not enough. 

How many friends has he lost, you wonder. How many lovers? Something cold and heavy settles in your gut, coils around your spine– the dread too heavy to dull with the drug still fogging all of your senses. Which one will you be? What notch on this pillar of loneliness, of loss? 

The thought that you’re not the first, that you won’t be the last, chills you. 

Zhongli finally glances down at you, and you wonder if the pity must show on your face, because the ancient loneliness that crept onto his own melts away. 

“I know you must think I’m a monster,” And his glove is so warm as he moves to cup your cheek with it. You tell yourself it’s just the drug that makes you want to lean into it, to close your eyes and sleep cradled in this warmth. The drug. The drug, the drug, the drug, and not the aching pangs of loneliness that is your own, not the long-neglected need to be touched as gently and warmly as he’s doing now. 

“...But allow me to be selfish, just this once.” A thumb moves to brush against your eyelid, coaxing it shut. “You’ll come to forgive me.”

You’re reminded of Lee. Of the promise you made to him, of the pain he put you through. The bleeding of your heart stops, cauterized by anger. No. No, you won’t fall for this again. You won’t fall for the empty promise of tenderness and warmth. 

“I won’t.” It comes out strained, taking more concentration than you’d like to form the words without slurring. You say it again, firmer. “I won’t. Not in a thousand years.”

“Then I will wait a thousand more. I’ll wait as long as it takes.” 

You want to tell him he can try, he can wait, and wait, and wait, until time sinks its claws into him, too, and turns him to sand, to a memory. But your tongue is too heavy, it’s too many words to struggle through, so instead you turn your head away from his hand and close your eyes. 

The hand caressing your cheek retreats and you feel cold. 

Zhongli doesn’t continue talking, letting you bask in silence. You almost wish he’d keep talking when exhaustion begins to creep up on you, and you’re not sure if his rumbling voice or the silence would put you to sleep first.

Still, you fight the tendrils of sleep curling around your psyche. As blissful a reprieve it is, to pretend you’re not here, you’re still at your home, your shop, free to come and go as you please… to go back to when the two of you were friends, to dream of the budding crush you’d developed for him that he’d snuffed out beneath his heel… Sleep feels like a defeat, now. Now that you’re not choosing it, not retreating to the guest room to spitefully shut him out behind sleep’s peaceful curtain. 

There’s something that’s been nagging you. You’re almost scared to ask, knowing deep down it’s a touchy subject, an invasive question. 

“What was Guizhong to you?” He stiffens under you. You don’t open your eyes, and steel your jaw against the impending blow. 

“Everything.” He whispers, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, so raw it feels sharp and grating on your ears. Then, as if he thought you didn’t hear it, he says it again, firmer, “Everything.”

“I can’t replace her.”

“You’re not a replacement for anything.” He’s angry, tone sharp, but it doesn’t stop the next words that come out of your mouth. 

“How many?” When he doesn’t respond after a long moment, you open your eyes. His are closed. His jaw is tense. “How many before me?”

You picture a pillar, alone in the sand, engraved with thousands of notches. Hundreds of thousands of gravestones, stretching on into forever. It might be an exaggeration, you don’t know. 

“No one.” Your heart sinks. “You’re the first.”

The image shatters, twists and mangles into something worse. Two pillars, standing alone, nothing but desolate sand for miles. 

Numbly, you wonder which of you will erode first. 

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up, you’re in the guest bedroom once more. It’s dark, and your eyes struggle to adjust. The fog has lifted, at least, telling you the drug has worn off, and there doesn’t seem to be any clinging side-effects besides a deep-set grogginess. 

The floor is cool against your feet when you slide out of bed. Your ankle aches, and you wonder if whatever he gave you had a painkiller in it as well, since you don’t remember it hurting this badly before falling asleep. 

It’s quiet in here, and you wish it weren’t. You wish there was something other than the sound of your own pained gasps as you limp to the door, something to distract you from the sharp pain of vehemently exacerbating your injury over the past few days. 

You don’t bother trying the window, knowing you wouldn’t make it over the walls before Xiao caught you again. That is, assuming you could even scale it a second time. Your ankle burns white hot with pain, as fierce as though the wound was still fresh, newly inflicted. 

Still, you stumble out of the room and into the dark halls, feeling much like an apparition, a ghost hobbling down these lonely and quiet halls you wish you’d never known. You’re not even sure what you intend to do. Walk out the front door? You want to go back to sleep, to the warm bed, to the painless solace of unconsciousness. 

The front door comes into view. You reach out, and a gentle but firm hand grabs your wrist. Ah, so not Xiao this time. 

Zhongli doesn’t say anything and neither do you. You stand there, swaying listlessly, too tired to curse him out, to fight back. It was worth a shot, you think. 

“Let’s get you back to bed.” He sounds just as tired as you feel, voice rough from sleep. You wonder what you’d done to wake him up. Was your stumbling through the halls that loud? 

Still, you don’t fight when he moves to carry you. You don’t even react when your feet leave the ground, when you’re tucked against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and groggily marveling at how human it sounds.

Zhongli carries you quietly back to the guest bedroom, settling you down before pulling the sheets to cover you. His touch lingers for barely a second too long. Your eyes slide shut, the sharp ache in your ankle not enough to fend off sleep from beginning to drag you back under, now that you’re in a warm bed once more. 

He doesn’t leave the room this time, moving to sit in the armchair between the window and the door, like he anticipates another attempt. He makes himself comfortable there, and you wonder if he plans to sleep like that. Probably. It’s not like you’ve given him reason to trust you alone, as even with your worsened ankle, still you try to escape. 

“We’ll discuss this in the morning,” He warns lowly. You open your eyes a crack to look at him in the impossible dark of the room. His are shut again, face relaxed as he tries to go back to sleep. You huff, closing your eyes and ignoring his threat. 

Whatever, Morax.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 5 - Cross Your Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Lying is supposed to be easy for spies.

Series Masterlist

You were beginning to think undercover operations were some sort of punishments given to agents, because lying was one thing, but creating a whole life around that lie was another.

Not only were your knives replaced by a bunch of paintings on the wall, you now had some photos in frames; old photos of people you didn’t know, people who were supposed to be your “cover” family.

You’d still prefer to have your knives on the walls though.

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear, and heard Chloe’s laugh.

“I am on your side, I just can’t do anything about your uniform.”

You plopped down on the couch, setting your heels down on the floor.

“Bucky might be from 1940s, but he knows that it’s the 21st century now,” you said, putting the heels on, “No reason to make me dress like a….weird pin up waitress.”

“It’s a part of your mission,” she reminded you, “What, you can kill a target with a wine glass but a pin up costume is where you draw the line?”

You clicked your tongue, “Anyone can kill someone with a wine glass. It’s not that hard.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Babe it’s not rocket science, you just break the bowl part, then use the stem to stab them in the—“ you got distracted when you opened the kitchen cabinet, “I’m sorry, why do I have so many kitchen supplies?”

She held her breath in excitement, “Do you like them?”

“I don’t know what to do with most of them.”

“Cover Y/N likes cooking!”

“And the real Y/N can’t stand her,” you deadpanned, making her stifle a laugh.

“So he hasn’t texted you yet?”

“Barnes?” you asked, “Not yet. Why?”

“Well, I took the liberty of taking a look at his messages the other day.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” you said, “He’s seeing someone else?”

“No no, not at all,” she said, “He’s totally single, and probably ready to mingle. With you, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He and Wilson were talking about you the other day. Well, more like Wilson was telling him to get his shit together and ask you out.”

“I don’t think he’s the type to ask someone out via text,” you said, “I think he will come to the shop one of these days.”

“Why?”

“He looked sort of….” You searched for the word in your mind, “Uh-clueless?”

“Clueless?”

“Yeah, you know how assassins usually flirt,” you ignored her noise of disagreement, “He wasn’t like that.”

“You really need to focus on the personal details of his file.”

You scowled, “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, “I know his favorite weapons, what knives he—”

“Personal file,” she repeated, “You know there’s more to people than their weapons of choice right?”

“I might have to engage in combat if I’m ever compromised, and do you know how many people walked away alive after engaging in combat with the Winter Soldier in all these decades?” you asked, “Three. Three people; Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and they are legends. I might be good, but I’m not that good.”

“Just memorizing his arsenal can’t help you in this mission,” she said, “Did you know that he hasn’t exactly dated since becoming the Winter Soldier? His ex Connie ended up having 3 kids and a long career at the post office—“

“What am I supposed to do Chloe, stalk grandma’s Instagram?”

“No, she passed away 5 years ago.”

“Of course she did,” you mumbled, “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’m already knee deep in my own cover, I can’t get into Barnes’s past when it’ll give me no advantage in the mission.”

“Y/N-“

“Trust me,” you cut her off, looking in the mirror to fix your uniform, “I have everything under control.”

                                              ***

You had maybe like one thing under control and that was the milkshake you were currently pouring into a mason jar. After a crash course in different recipes yesterday, you barely needed any help from your coworkers and seeing that the shop wasn’t very crowded, you didn’t have to rush.

And now you knew how to make three things; pasta, eggs and milkshakes.

If Keith were here, he would’ve said those were 3 main food groups.

“Tara, we’re running low on maraschino cherries,” you said as you shook the can and your new coworker turned to you.

“Oh that’s okay, there’s another jar are under the counter.”

You put the cherry over the whipped cream, and handed the jar to her. “There you go.”

“Another week of working here and you will come up with your own recipes,” she said, “Tell me the truth, are you like a spy sent by a rival company?”

You stared at her, then forced a laugh.

“I wish,” you said, “Maybe I’d be paid more.”

“Good point,” she said and walked to give the milkshake to the customer while you put the empty jar aside, then went under the counter to search for a new jar.

“Strawberries….” You read the labels out loud as you heard the wind bells chime by the door, “Figs, berries—cherries!”

You reached out to grab the jar and stood up but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of the figure by the door and held your breath, the jar slipping from your grip before you caught it mid-air.

“Bucky.” You breathed out, before you remembered to plaster a smile on your face.

Naïve, soft hearted civilian.

He stole a look around as if he expected someone to attack him at any seconds in a milkshake shop before he stepped closer to the counter you were standing behind.

“Hi.”

“Hi-hi there!” you said, putting the jar down, “You came!”

“You sound surprised,” he smiled and you shrugged your shoulders, shooting him a mischievous look,

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

He hissed in a breath, “Ouch, was it that late?”

“Just a little,” you said “So what can I get you?”

He looked up at the board over the wall, “What are my options?”

“Well, we have Unicorn Cotton Candy, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Candy Cane Passion, Lavender Macaron—“ you stopped talking when you saw the clueless look on his face and cleared your throat, “Or hey, maybe chocolate? We have chocolate milkshake.”

“Chocolate sounds good.”

“Coming right up.” You took a mason jar from the shelf to get to it and he grabbed his wallet, making you raise your brows.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on—”

“I’m going to make you an overly complicated milkshake if you try to pay for this,” you warned him, shaking the can before putting whipped cream on top of the milkshake, “It’s on the house, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said quickly, making you point at him with the straw.

��Either way, I’m warning you. I’m armed and dangerous.”

“Consider me intimidated,” he said with a grin as he put the cash into the tip jar and you narrowed your eyes.

“Bucky.”

“Well technically, tip doesn’t count.”

“I wonder where I heard that before,” you muttered under your breath while he walked to pull himself a seat.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, reminding yourself that your cover probably wouldn’t make dirty jokes and went to place the milkshake in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You waved a dismissive hand and rested your elbows on the counter, leaning in slightly.

He was gentleman enough to not check out your cleavage, instead kept his gaze on your face, making you suppress a smile.

“You were right,” Bucky said, his eyes darting around the café after a couple of seconds, “About how this place looked. It is creepily accurate.”

“Really?”

“I mean we didn’t have a neon flowers corner, but…” he trailed off, “Yeah. Yeah, I would say so.”

“Is that why you look like you expect someone to jump out of shadows and attack you?” you asked and his head shot up before he scrunched up his face.

“That obvious?”

“Not that I have lots of experience but so far none of the customers looked this uncomfortable while drinking a milkshake,” you said, “Is it because deep down you actually wanted to try Unicorn Cotton Candy?”

“Oh no, I’m good with classics,” He held up his milkshake, “No I just think that I’m a bit….uh, rusty.”

“Rusty,” you repeated, “On what?”

“On this.”

You batted your lashes, looking up at him and you could almost feel him being lured in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” you said softly after a beat and he gulped, taking a deep breath.

“It’s just that you’re—“ he cleared his throat, “You’re very beautiful and it’s been decades since I last asked someone out for a date.”

Winter Soldier, credited with over 100 assassinations, you reminded yourself Don’t lower your guard, it’s just a cover.

Don’t believe in your own cover.

You bit down a smile, tilting your head.

“Well, I didn’t think you were rusty,” you said and he raised his brows.

“You didn’t?”

“Not at all,” you said, “For the record, I’m definitely going to say yes.”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned, “Once you actually ask me, that is. With words, not an implication.”

His smile was almost playful, “With words, huh?”

“I’m old fashioned like that,” you taunted him, “Let’s see how we can make it less awkward for you though. Would you feel more comfortable to ask me out if you knew some weird stuff about me?”  

“You know, that would help a lot actually.”

You tapped your fingernails on the counter, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to be in deep thought. Your superiors had always said the best cover stories were somehow based on real life without revealing your identity, so you figured telling him random things about you wouldn’t hurt or put the mission in danger.

“Well, I really like grapes but I don’t like the skin, so I end up peeling every grape I eat, one by one,” you counted with your fingers, “I watched a documentary once and now I can’t swim in any lakes because I keep thinking I’ll get attacked by that weird flesh eating bacteria. When I was sixteen, I was the president of the chess club but I had a boyfriend who didn’t believe in the moon landing—”

“I heard about the moon landing!” he said quickly, “I didn’t get around to watch it yet though.”

“Oh my God, you should.”

“What else?”

“I’m scared of peacocks,” you confessed, “I know everyone says they’re beautiful but they look like they’re waiting for the right time to attack you.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself not to laugh and he pressed his metal fist on his lips, his whole attention on you.

“You can’t laugh!” you exclaimed and he shook his head, trying to look as serious as possible.

“I’m not!” he managed to hide his chuckle with a cough, “Keep going, this is very helpful.”

You heaved a sigh. “Well, do you want to hear the most embarrassing one?”

“Absolutely.”

“I normally keep my phone on mute 24/7 but since last week it’s been on full volume because I was terrified I’d miss something important.”

The amused light in his eyes got softer and he lowered his hand, a smile warming his face.

Hook, line…

“I was um— I was hoping for you to call, you see.” you said, averting your gaze from him to look down for a second, biting on your lip.

His voice was raspy; “Were you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, mumbling an inaudible maybe, and his eyes trailed down to your lips before snapping up to lock your gaze in his.

“What time do you get off work today?”

And sinker.

Time to pull back.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “I work at the soup kitchen tonight.”

“Oh –I thought you said it was on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“I did, I’m just covering for a friend tonight. Family emergency, she says.” you said and pushed your hair behind your ear, shifting your weight, “But my shift is over at 6 tomorrow and I can be ready around 7, I live really close by. If you’re- if you’re free, that is.”

“I am.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“It’s a date,” he repeated and stood up, “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.” You smiled as he walked out of the shop and Tara came closer to you.

“Wow, you’ve been here a month and you met someone that hot?” she said and winked at you, “Good job there.”

Right.

Good job.

                                             ***

“So, wait—“ Chloe came closer to sit between you and Keith, holding a huge bowl of popcorn, “He just showed up?”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a date tomorrow?”

Keith uncapped your beer and handed you the bottle as you rested your feet on the coffee table.

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” he asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, he’s buying this whole naïve soft hearted civilian thing,” you said while Chloe snatched the remote from Keith’s hand, ignoring protests.

“And are you?”

You dragged your eyes from the list of movies on the screen. “I want a horror movie.”

“Well too bad, I want an action movie.”

“We’re watching a rom-com and that’s final!” Chloe pointed at both of you, making you groan.

“Why does this keep happening?” Keith asked to no one in particular and she snapped her fingers.

“It’s my turn and my place so I pick the movie,” she said and shot you a look, “I’m still waiting for an answer, by the way. You don’t….you don’t have feelings for Barnes, right?”

Keith stole a look at you before turning to Chloe,

“I don’t think our dear friend here wants a relationship beautiful,” he told her, “Not after what happened the last time.”

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as a shiver ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know Barnes all that well yet, but I can assure you he’s not the type to—“ you paused, “Do something that cowardly.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Where is that asshole anyway?”

“Hungary,” Chloe said and you raised your brows.

“Undercover?”

“Yeah. I hope he gets compromised and dies there.”

“Very unlikely,” you murmured, “Anyways, what brought this on? My feelings for Barnes?”

“It’s just that I recently read Vincent Smith’s file,” she said, “You guys remember Vincent?”

“Who?”

“His code name was Marco.”

“Oh, I remember Marco!” Keith said, “That guy took down a whole unit by himself. What happened to him?”

“He is missing.” Chloe said and you pulled your brows together.

“Since when do agents go missing and we don’t know where they are?”

“Since they fall for the target.”

“No way,” Keith chuckled, “Badass spy Marco fell in love? Poor idiot.”

“You’re a terrible person, Keith.”

You sat up straighter, “Wait, did you say he fell for the target?”

“Yeah, I saw the reports from his handler. And now he’s missing, and I don’t want you to run away with Barnes like Marco did with his target.”

You and Keith exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue.

“Chloe babe, he’s not missing.” you said “He’s dead.”

She pulled back slightly, “You don’t know-“

“Yes I do. You don’t fall for the target and compromise the whole mission, not unless you want to end up dead.”

“There’s no report of that,” she insisted and Keith sipped his beer.

“What did his report say, sweetheart?”

“That he was removed from his mission before going missing.”

Keith scoffed, “Rest in peace Marco, you won’t be missed.”

“How do you know—“

“Because that’s the code,” you said, “If the report says he was removed from his mission and went missing, it means he was killed by an agent on our side.”

“We killed our own agent?” she exclaimed and you turned the beer bottle in your hand,

“He stopped being our agent the moment he fell for the target.”

Chloe covered her mouth with her hands, worry etched into her expression, “Y/N, please, please promise me you won’t somehow get too involved in this mission and fall for Barnes and put yourself in danger.”

You let out a small laugh, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“It’s the Winter Soldier we’re talking about,” you reminded her and chewed on the popcorn, “Trust me, that would never happen.”

“Cross your heart?”

You heaved a sigh and clinked your beer bottle with hers.

“Cross my heart honey,” you assured her, “There’s no way I’d sign my own death warrant by doing something that stupid.”  

Chapter 6

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.7

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Cassandra gradually starts taking up more of your time. Or, more accurately, demands it like it’s her birthright.

Every day, you wake her up with a kiss to her shoulder or neck and a whisper of her name. She comes to you when she’s bored at random times during your shifts, to either talk –complain— about her sisters or to outright distract you. There are times at night when you’ll feel the chill of her slip into your bed and press up against your back, but she’s always gone by morning light, like a dream.

She used to be just another component to your nightmares. Now… she’s what takes them away.

And you’re afraid.

That you’re growing to like the time with her while she’s just playing around, that it will cut that much deeper when you find yourself on the end on her sickle. Because how else can it end, you reason, between the two of you?

The thought momentarily makes your liplock with Cassandra taste bitter, despite the sweet strawberry taste of her lip balm -and no way she’s putting that on for you, right?

She has you pressed deep into a plush armchair with her palm on your chest, while her thighs are locked tight on either side of yours. You want to tell her that you should stop –both because you’re literally in the open and anyone can walk in on you and because it’s late—but her lips are doing wicked things to your neck and you can’t find your voice long enough.

When Cassandra starts grinding down on you though, rather impatiently too, you have to speak up before she starts something neither of you can finish.

“Cassandra.” you say breathily. A sharp nip comes over your pulse, then slippery lips close around the area. “Ah! Cassandra. You’ll be late for dinner.”

She tsks and pulls back, expression much like a kid that got her hand slapped away from the cookie jar. She dismounts you with the same sour look, smoothing down her robes.

“Walk me there.” she orders.

You rise and fall into step beside her, trying not to linger on how strange it feels. It should be nothing, really, considering all the activities the two of you nightly indulge in, but it’s… something.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically quiet, keeps gazing out the windows as though calculating or pinpointing something while you make your way to the dining room.

She comes to a sudden halt just before you reach it, turns to you, steals a quick kiss and then quickly leaves you behind, a colder aura about her as she strolls inside.

You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice, but not what she says. Once a few minutes have passed and you can safely blend into the background, you join the other maids on standby within.

You used to hate it here. Having them all in front of you like that, serving them wine, when they’re all to blame for taking any semblance of normalcy out of your life. You never glance at what they’re eating. You still dislike dinner time.

But.

When Alcina makes a snide comment about Heisenberg and you hear Cassandra’s laugh above Daniela’s giggle and Bela’s chuckle…

It no longer seems so bad.

-

-

“Bela, stay a moment.” Cassandra says after Lady Dimitrescu leaves with Daniela in tow.

“Oh, no.” The blonde huffs under her hood.

“I didn’t say anything. Yet.” The younger sibling raises her hands in exasperation.

“When you go ‘Bela~’” You bite your lip to keep your expression neutral as you’re cleaning the table because hearing the normally stoic sister mimic Cassandra’s voice like that is just plain gold. “It’s never good.” her tone turns flat once more.

Cassandra very pointedly rolls her pretty eyes. “I need you to cover for me.”

“See?” Bela sighs. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, it wasn’t really a question, I was just trying to give you the illusion of choice.” Cassandra shrugs. “I’m going out tonight.”

“What?” Bela damn near hisses. “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s fine it’s, like, thirteen degrees.”

“How is that fine?”

The elder sister’s gaze then flits to you. There is no other maid in the vicinity that can overhear them, but she’s clearly uncomfortable with you picking up the implications of their conversation.

You still don’t get it. You guessed their aversion to sunlight has to do with their mutations… but why would the cold be an issue?

The survivor in you wants to know more. To know if this is something that can be used to your advantage when the time and circumstances are right for a potential escape.

Another part of you… just plain worries.

“I know what I’m doing.” Cassandra says, stern.

“Then you’re doing it alone.” Bela turns to leave…

Except.

“Oh, well. Guess mother should know about that little maid you’ve been orbiting around, lately.” Cassandra comments. “The one you even did a favor for? Just imagine her disappointment in you, the shining example of the family, stooping so low.”

Bela’s back goes rod-straight. The piercing look she sends Cassandra sends ice down your spine. You think she’s going to pounce… yet she exhales.

“One. Hour.” Bela states. “If you’re not back in one hour I’m coming to drag your sorry behind to mother. And she—” A gloved finger points directly to you, “Won’t be coming back with you in one piece.”

Wait.

What?

-

-

You didn’t know Cassandra planned to take you with her. But she didn’t deny it when Bela pointed to you. After her sister left, all she said was: ‘Dress well.’

Which brings you to your current position, pacing by the entrance hall of the castle, in a warm coat and two layers of clothes underneath. You turn to look behind when you finally hear her steps descending the staircase.

And— you freeze.

Because Cassandra is not wearing her usual robes. She’s dressed in all black, yes, but the outfit is tight on her form, fitting every curve, hugging her wonderful legs like a second skin. She’s wearing knee-high boots instead of heels and her hooded, gothic overcoat reaches down to mid-thigh.

There’s not a single patch of her skin visible other than her face… and you can’t, for the life of you, explain why it’s that hot.

“You’re staring, plaything.” she chastises, yet doesn’t sound like she minds. Rather, she’s smirking.

“Uh—” you can’t really form words.

“We need to hurry, clock’s ticking.” she says as she jiggles the very key you’ve looked everywhere during work hours for. The key to freedom. To leaving the castle.

Cassandra double-checks her clothes before she opens the door. You file it as useful information for later as you hurry to catch up to her.

The path to the village –or what’s left of it— through the forest is… difficult. Mainly because Cassandra is entirely unbothered by any and all obstacles and moves like she’s on a walkway, leaving you to fight with every rock hidden in the snow.

You manage. Somehow.

Until a distant howl makes you jump and quite literally crash into her side.

Cassandra laughs. It’s a clear, beautiful sound in the dead of night. “My, my. Scared of a Lycan in my presence?”

“I thought it was just a regular wolf!” You whisper, mortified.

Yellow eyes blink at you. Then her gloved hand raises to yours, taking it in a secure grip. You didn’t realize you were shaking, yet the tremors quickly cease when she does that. It’s just your heart that still feels like it’s going to give out on you, but for an entirely different reason, now.

Cassandra safely leads you to the village. It looks more or less the same, except empty, void of life. You don’t linger on memories. You don’t.

“Show me your house.” she says.

You never thought you’d be tracing the steps of your front porch so soon. You only have to push the door for it to open. And the inside is just as you remembered. A quaint little house. It’s simply not… home, anymore.

Nothing is.

Maybe nothing ever was.

And the thought makes a thin, cracked wall inside you finally give. Cassandra is saying something a few paces behind you, but your vision has blurred, your eyes sting and hot, salty rivers roll past your lids.

“Are you listening to me?” she asks. “...Plaything?”

You can’t talk. If you do, you’ll sob and break to pieces on the floor like a pushed glass statue.

Cassandra’s grip is tight and demanding on your elbow when her fingers curl above it, but she turns you with gentleness you’d never think her capable of. You do not meet her eyes.

Her other hand comes up to your neck.

You can’t, you can’t—

“Alexia.”

Your eyes snap to hers when she says it, from the shock. You didn’t think she even knew your name. Cassandra shifts her weight from one leg to the other, then seems to decide on something and wipes the tears beading at your chin away with her thumb.

“Pack what you wish. We don’t have long.”

As you turn into your bedroom and open your wardrobe to pack a few clothes into a bag, just to feel a tad more yourself when you’re in your room in the castle, the sound of your name falling from her lips follows you.

Haunts you.

You have half a mind to get your mp3, phone and chargers before you return to her. Cassandra is holding whatever she wanted to get from the village in a box tucked between her arm and body.

“Come.” she orders. Her hand settles on your elbow again and practically drags you along.

You don’t talk on your way back to the castle.

From one of the many windows overlooking the front yard, you spot Bela’s eyes on the two of you until she retreats into the shadows. Rigidly, Cassandra enters and immediately goes by the large fireplace to warm up. You only then notice how much more fluid her movements get. Or rather, how sluggish she was during the trip.

You shut the door and turn the key and realize it’s much easier to handle your situation when you’re the one locking yourself inside.

You take off your coat and scarf, then make to head for your bedroom —according to your calculations you’ll only get 3 hours of sleep— until… you notice how cold Cassandra looks.

She’s one step away from hugging the flames. And you can still hear her call you by your name in your head.

Great. Another thing to keep me up at night. You think as you approach her.

Slowly, so as to not scare her, you slip your arms around her slim waist from behind. She’s like a block of ice in your embrace, at first. Her body thaws gradually, to the point she’s fully relaxed against you.

“Thank you for today.” the words don’t come easy –they’re like pulling teeth— but you manage to get them out clearly enough.

“You’ll thank me in very many ways, plaything.” she says. “Having your own belongings in the castle is not a privilege any maid gets. But.” her voice, although quiet, hardens the slightest amount. “If, despite my generosity, you harbor dreams of escape… I will turn them to nightmares.”

Your blood goes cold in your veins. You can only nod against her shoulder.

Cassandra turns in your arms to look at you.

“And if you ever try to leave me alone here… I will find you and kill you myself.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

A continuation of NHS invites WWX to JYL's wedding, and what happened there? Perhaps about how the estemed Hanguang Jun ended up running off and eloping with the Nie sect heir's intended?

continuation of that short fic, now it’s own fic on ao3

Plus One - Chapter 2

“So,” Nie Huaisang said, sidling up to his brother and his two sworn brothers now that they’d finally gotten to the party part of the wedding and they could all huddle up in a corner to be anti-social together.

Or, well, for Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to be anti-social and for Jin Guangyao to be forcefully restrained from attempting to perform hosting duties, which he incessantly tried to do - it was like he had no idea what servants were for. Which Nie Huaisang supposed was understandable, given everything, but the way Jin Guangshan encouraged him to do it certainly wasn’t.

“So,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice only mildly ominous in a way that suggested, to Nie Huaisang at least, that he was still finding this whole thing incredibly funny.

Accordingly, Nie Huaisang ignored him. “How much do you think I can milk being horribly dumped?” he asked. “Because I think I’m about to be horribly dumped.”

“By your new ‘intended’?” Lan Xichen said, looking amused. “Really, Huaisang, I don’t know what you were thinking by bringing him.”

“Uh, that he deserves to attend his shijie’s wedding? Obviously?”

“But to bring him to Lanling…”

“He’s my guest,” Nie Huaisang said haughtily, bringing out his fan and doing his best ‘rich young master who is better than this and is most certainly above your petty questions’ Jin sect impression. “You aren’t suggesting that the Jin sect would take back an invitation they freely issued, would they? Or breach the rules of hospitality?”

“Huaisang, Xichen didn’t mean it that way and you know it,” his brother said, sounding annoyed, but in his relaxed run-of-the-mill ‘I hate parties’ type of annoyance, rather than specifically about his behavior. “Obviously the Jin sect won’t do anything about it. Regardless of any other considerations, anything they did would be refusing to show our Nie sect face, and then I’d have to make an issue of it.”

He sounded wistful. Probably thinking about how he could use it as an excuse to storm out and go home early.

“We’re only worried about you, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao murmured, looking remarkably calm for someone who was definitely (if unobtrusively) being blocked from leaving by two very tall men with excessive mother hen tendencies. “You’re all grown up now, not a child – you need to think about the political implications your actions might have. Aren’t you concerned about your brother’s reaction?”

Huaisang was about to explain that he’d gotten his brother’s permission, but then he remembered that they were in Lanling, full of spies, so he decided to tell Jin Guangyao about that later.

“It’s not my problem that Sect Leader Nie has to think about politics at what should be a happy family event,” he said instead, nose in the air, and Lan Xichen frowned even as Nie Mingjue sighed, probably at Nie Huaisang’s total lack of caring about even the basic obligations of etiquette. Or possibly his reference to their little inside joke, but these were his sworn brothers, so they’d have to figure out sooner or later that Sect Leader Nie and Nie Mingjue weren’t always the same. “Besides, that isn’t what I asked. I asked about how long I can milk my terrible heartbreaking break up.”

“I thought you were getting dumped?” his brother asked, passing him a jar of wine. A good brother, even if he was mocking him.

“Getting dumped leads to a break-up,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Wei-xiong is a thankless white-eyed wolf who was just using me with absolutely no consideration of my tender feelings.”

“You have tender feelings?” his brother said. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

Nie Huaisang kicked him in the shin.

As usual, it had no impact whatsoever on his brother and only hurt his own toes, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, his voice oddly gentle, even softer than normal. “Did you – really – for Wei Wuxian –”

Nie Huaisang, who’d been taking a drink of wine, nearly choked. “Er-ge,” he said, mildly horrified. “Please. Wei-xiong is a very handsome gentleman, fearless and dashing, with all the skills one might ask for in a son-in-law –”

“Brother-in-law,” his brother muttered, as if he hadn’t been Nie Huaisang’s de facto father figure for years.

“– and, yes, I suppose we have similar tastes in drinking, carousing, and pornography –”

“Of course you do,” Jin Guangyao said, looking up at the ceiling as if it would hide how his lips were twitching.

“– but let us not forget: he lives in a trash heap. With Wen sect. I have standards!”

“I thought he was marrying in?” Lan Xichen asked, smiling again now that he had confirmed that there was no actual heart-breaking occurring in the vicinity. “He’d live in the Unclean Realm that way, wouldn’t he?”

“He would not,” Nie Mingjue put in. “I don’t care if they’re all enlightened saints that do nothing but charity all day, no one surnamed Wen is living in my home.”

“You see what I’m up against?” Nie Huaisang said, holding out his hands in appeal to his brother’s sworn brothers. “My da-ge doesn’t understand, he’s only good for swinging a saber! How cruel and heartless must a man be to stand in the way of true love?”

Lan Xichen covered his smile with his sleeve. Jin Guangyao pressed his lips together in such a way that made his cheeks especially round and quivering with suppressed laughter, like a mouse stuffing its face to bulging with rice.

“Er-ge, you wouldn’t be nearly this cruel if it were you, would you?” Nie Huaisang asked, reaching out and tugging said sleeve. “You’d be kind and generous about it – I bet you’d find them a nice little place to live, maybe next to those foothills you’re always saying you want someone to use but that you’re not willing to sell…”

“Were you planning on moving in with er-ge after your marriage, then?” Jin Guangyao asked. He looked much more amused and relaxed now – maybe he’d been stressing over this being some sort of scheme and was feeling much better now that he realized it was actually just Nie Huaisang’s nonsense. His paranoia had always been deeply endearing. “I don’t think your brother will like that.”

“Not me,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes at him. “But if it was Lan Zhan sweeping him away, er-ge would definitely support him. Right, er-ge?”

“I always support my brother,” Lan Xichen said with a smile.

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said, taking another swallow of wine. “Because he and Wei Wuxian just had a very intense conversation in a secluded corner that ended with them kissing and running off together, so it’s about to become your problem.”

Nie Mingjue choked, Jin Guangyao’s jaw dropped, and Lan Xichen’s eyes got really big.

“Not joking,” Nie Huaisang clarified cheerfully. “Totally serious.”

“Excuse me,” Lan Xichen said, getting up very quickly. “I need to – go see –”

He didn’t even bother finishing the sentence before rushing off.

“Go with him,” Nie Mingjue said to Jin Guangyao, who blinked owlishly at him. “It’s going to be a shitshow, isn’t it? Politically, I mean.”

“Uh,” Jin Guangyao said.

“Really, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “The notorious ostracized-by-the-cultivation-world demonic cultivator Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, is abruptly reintroduced to society as my intended bride, only to be stolen away by the Lan sect’s Second Jade, the second most desirable bachelor in the cultivation world, in the middle of a wedding party thrown by Lanling Jin? I have no idea why you think this would so much as raise an eyebrow.”

“That’s a lot of words to say ‘shitshow’, which is why I didn’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – oh, fuck it, A-Yao, someone is going to need to keep their head about them and think about the political implications long enough to keep Xichen from getting himself into serious trouble, and you’re better at it than I am. Go help him. I’ll cover for you two here.”

Jin Guangyao still looked torn.

“Don’t listen to da-ge, he’s worrying too much,” Nie Huaisang volunteered his own opinion. “How much trouble can the Lan sect really get into over a matter of love?”

“I’m going at once,” Jin Guangyao said, and ran after Lan Xichen.

A moment later, Nie Huaisang handed the jar of wine back to his brother.

“Well done,” he said, voice much more neutral than it had been a moment before. “Assuming your goal was to deprive Sect Leader Jin of san-ge’s assistance while we define the situation to make it come out the way we want.”

“Couldn’t have done it without your timely assist,” Nie Mingjue said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did so hate politics, and he hated being good at it even more. Truly there was nothing better, in Nie Huaisang’s opinion, than forcing his brother to relent and give in to the sneaky bastard half of his heritage. “Anyway, Sect Leader Jin is drunk and his heir is the groom, and thus occupied. It’s only reasonable that I, as the person with the next highest status, take charge of dispersing the news.”

“And by ‘dispersing the news’ you mean rehabilitate Wei-xiong’s reputation, get him reinstated in the Jiang sect, and arrange an appropriate marriage between him and Lan Zhan before anyone can complain about an inappropriate elopement, of course.”

“It’s called being efficient, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said.

“It’s called creating a countervailing alliance to the Jiang-Jin sect connection, getting both the Jiang sect and the Yiling Patriarch to owe our sect a favor – not to mention the Lan sect, too! – and conveniently also undercutting Sect Leader Jin’s authority just at the moment he’s trying to install himself as the new ruler of the cultivation world.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, finishing off the jar and putting it down. “I’m far too stupid to be considering any of that. Only good for swinging a saber, remember?”

Nie Huaisang sniggered.

“Yes, I remember,” he said. “You won a whole war against a much stronger, more numerous, and more unified force on Baxia’s strength alone, no brains required. How can I help? You want me crying or excited?”

“Whatever you think is best, Huaisang.” His brother solidified his scowling angry face, just the sort of thing a dumb brute might wear when dealing with politics that he was far too ignorant to understand. “Let’s go right some injustices, shall we?”

[hardlyinteresting]

Risks Worth Taking 2/2

This is the second half, part 2/2 of the story, thank you to everyone who has read it! Professor!Zemo x Student reader Part 1 here The reader takes Zemo’s philosophy class focusing on Machiavelli. Posted in 2 parts because it exceeded the textbox limit. Apx 3k words.

Warnings: student-teacher relationship (the reader is of age, no real focus on power imbalance), implied age gap, consumption of alcohol, implication that the reader is sleeping with Zemo for better grades (she's not) and of course let me know if you want me to add anything else!!

Week five, he is not shocked to find she’s once again the first one in class. “Good evening,” he greets warmly, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck as he makes his way to his desk. She smiles back, “I left my paper on your desk there, I figured I’d get the pile started”. He laughs setting down his coat and bag, “Something tells me there will be few submissions for this class”.

He’s right. Less than half the class bothers to show up. Most of her peers seem to be getting a head start on winter break, at least the class is quiet she thinks content listening to Helmut summarize the most recently assigned chapters, providing historical context where needed.

“Enjoy your break Helmut,” she says softly as he shuts the lecture hall door.

“You as well. Do you have plans?” She shakes her head, “No, just reading”. He smiles, “Then I am sure it will be a good break indeed”.

The cafe is warm and cosy. She settles comfortably into her favourite booth with her favourite book and a second cup of tea.

The bell at the front door dings as a man enters in a long black coat and leather gloves. Fancy she thinks to herself as he approaches the counter to order. It's usually other students dressed in sweatpants and hoodies, the man’s put together dress piques her interest. He orders and then she watches over the top of her book as he drops a $10 bill into the barista’s tip jar. Oh, well dressed and exceedingly well mannered. She can't help but watch him as he waits. Removing his gloves he tucks them into his pockets and unbuttons his coat, she swears she can smell his cologne from where she sits; it's incredible!

“Cherry blossom tea for Helmut?” The barista calls sliding the cup across the counter.

Helmut? It isn't. Is it? He turns after saying a polite thank you, and she can feel her heart hammering as he turns and she sees his face. It is. She's not sure why she's shocked, she did tell him about this place after all. Do I say something? She wonders, weighing the pros and cons, but her thoughts are halted when she hears his voice,

“Hello,” he smiles softly, “I didn't expect you to be here--I know you pointed this place out, but I wasn't--”

He's worried he's intruding. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“No, no. It's okay! I don't own the place-- did you want to sit? You don't have to--”

He chuckles as her nerves get the best of her.

Silently he sets down his cup shrugging out of his coat, putting it over the back of the chair before sitting down.

“What are you reading?” He smiles, trying to peak at the cover.

Again, after their initial stiffness, the conversation flows smoothly, just like it had in his office. After several warm drinks, and a couple croissants ordered between the two of them it’s grown dark outside. Neither had noticed the cafe empty out slowly over the hours, the barista cleaning up for the night until she clears her throat from behind the counter. They both turn to look at her, finally noticing how quiet the shop is.

“Sorry, we’re closing now,” the barista smiles sweetly. “Not a problem. I apologise, we lost track of time. We’ll get out of your way,” Helmut apologizes. The pair collect their things sliding back into their coats and gloves. Helmut waits patiently for her to be ready to go his hand resting gently at the small of her back as she slips out of the booth and past him.

Helmut stops and puts another bill in the girl’s tip jar.

“Sorry for keeping you,” he apologises again.

Outside the winter wind is cold against their faces.

“Are you hungry?” Helmut asks.

“I could eat,” She responds. “Ever been there?” Helmut asks pointing to the pub across the street. “I don’t know if it’s your speed. It’s not super nice or anything, but their food is decent,” she says honestly. He laughs, “‘Decent’ is better than what I can make at home by myself”.

She bites her lip thinking about it, does he want to spend more time with me?

“Okay,” she smiles as they make their way across the street.

Settled at a table, they wait for their server, she asks, “Was that a fifty dollar bill I saw you put in that tip jar?”

He shrugs, “Yes”.

He says that as if it’s normal, she thinks.

“I know you’re not from here, but you do know that’s a lot of money right?” “Yes,” he shrugs again, “But she made excellent tea all afternoon, she let us stay as late as she could and she was polite. And I have been here long enough to know that servers of any kind don’t get paid fairly. I can afford it, she deserves it”.

She feels the smile grow across her face, she considers gushing that he’s such a good person, but instead what comes out is, “I’m really starting to consider becoming a professor”.

He laughs, “I told you, it’s family money, not my facility pay”. God, that laugh, sets off butterflies in her stomach, the warm, genuine sound of his laughter.

He continues, “Before Sokovia fell, my family were royalty. I was a Baron there”. “I knew your name sounded familiar,” she sighs, “I remember hearing about Sokovia on the news. I remember your name, you were building orphanages and relief centres”.

He nods sadly, “Many of us thought we could salvage what we had left after everything. We couldn’t”.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, without thinking she reaches across the table to place a comforting hand on his arm. His hand comes to cover hers, so much larger than her own.

There’s a silence between them for one of the first moment since he sat down with her earlier at the cafe. But it’s not uncomfortable, it’s the opposite -- a silence of understanding, both parties knowing there’s nothing they can say to make things better-- they can only ruminate.

The peace is broken by a waiter coming to take their orders. “Do you drink Helmut?” She asks with a mischievous smile. “I have been known to indulge,” he confesses, his eyebrows furrowed. “Two shots of ?” she turns to look at Helmut expectantly. “Vodka,” he replies. “Two shots of vodka, and an order of cheese fries to share please,” she orders, “thank you”.

The waiter returns not before long, placing the drinks and food on the table.

She holds her shot glass up waiting for him to do the same. “Prost,” he says raising his glass towards her. “Cheers,” she responds clinking her glass into his before they both tip them back.

And that’s how their night begins.

It’s nearing midnight when they settle their bill, Helmut insisting he pay-- though she put up a good fight. “Can I walk you home?” He asks looking at her under the light of the street lamps. She nods, her face feeling warm both from his attention and the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream. Her apartment is only three blocks away, but time seems to slow down as they walk arm in arm through the freshly fallen snow. At her door they stop, she looks up at him, him down at her. Without a thought, lips meet. It’s not rough or particularly sexy, but she feels her knees go weak when his hand comes to cup her cheek, his other splayed across the small of her back pulling her closer. This kiss deepens and she clutches the lapel of his wool coat before they both pull away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Don’t be,” she sighs.

Then the thought hits her, “How are you getting home?” “Oh-- I was going to get a cab and go back to the cafe to pick up my car in the morning,” he explains. “Nonsense-- you can stay here,” she offers unlocking her door and stepping inside, he doesn’t follow. “Not in my bed,” she laughs flicking on the light, “I’ll set you up on the couch”. He steps inside.

In the morning he wakes to the sun shining through the window. It takes him a minute to orient himself remembering he crashed on her couch. He sits up taking a moment to look around the apartment, it’s cute. Books and textbooks and notebooks strewn about the place. It’s homey and inviting and every bit what he’d expect her space to look like. Carefully he grabs one of the open notebooks tearing out a page he writes a quick note:

Good morning, I find that I feel very sorry for having to leave before you wake. Alas, I have much to get done, and I do not wish to trespass in your home longer than needed. I am grateful for your hospitality, and even more, your company. If my memory serves correctly I must also apologise for making that advance towards you last night. It was ungentlemanly, and you are unquestionably deserving of much better. I hope you can forgive me, and that you might allow me to make it up to you. -Helmut

Week six.

“He should appear to be compassionate, faithful to his word, guileless, and devout.” Is written across the board. When she settles into her seat. She’s not early this week, rather just on time. Helmut notes the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tries to catch her breath, he holds back a smile at the thought of her sprinting to his class. When the class is settled, he proceeds to hand back all of the submitted essays, now marked. He smiles as he sets hers on her desk, “Bravo,” he says quietly enough that just she hears it as he shuffles along to the next row of students. She anxiously flips to the last page, red pen scrawl reads 100%. Her jaw drops. There’s no way. She thinks back to the rumours she heard on campus at the beginning of the year, about how difficult a marker he is. Bullshit. Her blood boils, rage sizzling beneath her skin. She avoids his eyes for the rest of class staring down at her notebook as she notices the indents in the blank page-- indents left from where he had written her a note that morning. Her anger freezes replaced by the cold sinking feeling in her chest. All his kind words, all those moments shared-- did he really think she was just spending time with him for a better grade? What kind of handout does he expect to get from her? She scolds herself now for the little crush she’d developed-- how stupid could she be? The prince must appear to be virtuous in order to hide his actions, She remembers from her reading, a dagger to her chest as she thinks bitterly that she’s not shocked that the professor is practising what he preaches.

The class ends and he moves to collect his paperwork, sorting it back into his bag. She stays. “I’m glad you stayed behind,” he starts. “I’m sure you are,” she says sharply. Confused he puts his things down turning to face her. “Have I done something to upset you?” He asks seriously his head tilted to the side as he racks his brain for anything he may have done to make her so cross. Perhaps his note was not sufficient in conveying his apology? “Do you think I’m stupid? Or that I’m naive?” she asks arms crossed, “I’m not sleeping with you for a good grade,” she states firmly, sliding her essay back across her desk, “feel free to adjust my grade accordingly”. Is that what she thinks? His mouth goes dry, his mind and heart racing with all the different ways he wants to apologise, to tell her that she has it wrong. He approaches her, finally making eye contact with her, “Your grade will stay as it is. I mark all of my student’s work without looking at the cover pages. I have always strived to remain impartial. Your essay was marked no differently,” He explains calmly, “I would be wrong to say that I don’t hold any affections for you-- it is quite the opposite. I enjoy the time we have spent together, and I would like to continue to remain in your company; I hope to eventually find myself in your affections-- but none of this has any bearing on your grade. I am sorry that I have acted in a way where this was not clear”. Her throat clenches, oh. “I’m sorry--Oh my god--I’m so stupid!” her hand flies to cover her mouth. “You have nothing to apologise for-- I should be the one apologising,” he insists. She shakes her head standing to stand in front of him, “We’ve both been obtuse”. “I’d like to make it up to you. I’d like to take you out for dinner-- a proper meal. If you’ll allow me”. She nods her hand coming to rest on his cheek, thumb running gently across his cheekbone, “I would like that,” she says quietly, her eyes glazing at his lips, “But only after the semester is done and I’ve graduated”. “If that is what you want,” he nods understanding. She can feel him leaning in, her eyes flickering up to his caramel eyes and back down to his lips, his hand rests on her hip, but he waits for her to close the gap between them.

Last day of the school year.

She waits by the door to the lecture hall as he speaks to his class. She listens to the back and forth of conversing ideas from the students, her heart beating faster every time Helmut speaks. It takes a while for everyone to leave when the class is over, but he does his best not to make her wait too long, gathering his things as quickly as possible, he makes his way over to her.

“Maybe I should’ve taken this course, the conversation was much more lively!” She laughs. “Your intelligent thoughts would have been wasted here, my dear” He smiles shutting the door behind him, “your class needed a brilliant mind in it”.

The summer goes by quickly. Fine dining, nights in. reading during rainstorms. Nights of soft romance, followed by nights of passion. Pasts shared. Futures envisioned. In his bed the night before the new school year she rolls over to lay almost on top of him, laughing when he lets out an oof. “Old man she teases,” earning a playful pinch on the thigh from him.

She glances at his nightstand, a copy of The Prince laying there.

“And what are your personal feelings about Machiavelli anyway? You never speak about your own thoughts”

“You're so clever,” he laughs, “but you're right”.

He sighs pulling her closer. he tries to focus on his hand running up and down her arm, how soft her sweater is under his fingertips. He takes a deep breath before speaking, “every time I read it, my opinions change,” he confesses, “there was a time when I was young and stupid; thought I was invincible that I agreed with a lot of his ideals. Then I grew older, fell in love--I thought him stupid and lonely. I experienced an incredible loss--”

She squeezes his side as she hears his voice grow tense with tears, he swallows and continues, “and then I thought I understood him. I learned how to grieve and I thought him intolerable. In the end I learn more about myself than I do him”.

She smiles, “and have you read it lately?”

He nods kissing her softly, “I have”.

“And?”

“I learned to trust my instincts. To take the risks that are worth taking”

“You're kind of a sap,” she laughs, her face getting warm she buries it in his chest. Part 1 here

[strawhatsweets]

depollute me

bakugou x gn!reader

fluff, small angst, comfort, aged up!

cw: implications / mentions of su*cide please dont hesitate to reach out to me to talk about anything.

that one sound on tiktok from @ leithross that i need to be a song on spotify bc i CRY

come to my asks to be a part of my taglist! just let me know what kinds of fics/ what fandom/ what characters/ etc you want to be tagged in!

Requests are open!!

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

Being friends with Bakugou is definitely a skill that should be looked at on resumes for high ranked jobs. No, not because hes an angry boy that yells.

Because it shows that you're capable of taking the time to get to know someone past their outer shell. It shows that you're not judgmental and youre willing to put in the work to get somewhere you'd like to be.

Meeting him is jarring to any person, I'm sure.

But it is also a blessing that too many take for granted.

If being friends with Bakugou is a skill. Being his best friend is honorary.

"depollute me, pretty baby"

Late nights with Katsuki are common. But this one was an important one.

"Come on! We HAVE to get to the roof!" You shout behind yourself to the blonde boy, chasing after you.

"Y/n you're going to get HURT-"

"No I'm not! You're a hero arencha-" Youre cut off but Bakugou grabbing you by the waist before you can climb out the window.

"Is your grand plan to scale the fucking wall?" He asks incredulously as he pulls you back into the building.

"Yes- I want to see the stars stupid! Let me GO!"

"You can see them FROM THE GROUND!"

"ITS NOT THE SAME KATS-" you flop onto the ground after flailing in his arms to the point of him getting annoyed enough to let go.

"Oh my god youre impossible," he sighs. "Theres a door- that you can only access with a key."

"Yes we have established this," you get up brushing yourself off. "Which is why we have to scale the-"

"I can just make a tiny explosion and open the lock that way."

"So lets damage the door instead of-"

"OKAY I CAN PICK THE LOCK HOLY SHIT." Bakugou finally gave in.

"You...you have been hiding... such a skill from me?!" You yelled, hand on your heart.

"Jesus fuck- this is why. Youre a little criminal you know that? Breaking and fuckin entering- someone should arrest your dumb ass." He mumbles, picking the lock on the door to the roof.

"Good thing I have a hero that will totally stick up for me. Hes even almost number one- very credible." You say, rubbing your chin, giggling at the end.

The door swings open and he scowls at you.

"Like hell I'd stick up for you, brat."

"You know you would, fuckwad."

You grab his hand and walk out onto the roof, seemingly in awe.

"Wow. It's so pretty up here." You drop his hand and run to the edge, prompting Bakugou to follow.

Sighing, you hold onto the high ledge, looking up at the sky and down at the ground. "We're up crazy high."

"No shit." He mutters, staring at you in the moonlight.

Hoisting yourself up onto the ledge, panic rings through Bakugou's bones as he's pulled from his admiration of you. He holds your waist as you sit down on the ledge, staring up at the sky.

"Youre fuckin insane." He breathes out.

"I know." You turn slightly to look at him. "Its why ya love me so damn much Kats. Someone out-crazied you."

"Fuck off."

"suck the rot right out of my blood stream"

"I miss her." You mutter, looking up at the sky again.

"I know princess. You lookin at her constellation right?" Bakugou sighs, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Yeah. Its the night she was born. This is what the sky looked like that night. No wonder she was so bright- the sky just- God if she would've just-" Bakugou notices your eyes welling up with tears.

Pulling you off the ledge and turning you around, he stands you up and hugs you.

"Hey hey. It's okay. I gotcha." He whispers.

Holding you, he feels his shoulder getting wet. He's never minded.

After a few silent minutes, you pull away sniffling.

"Im so glad I have you Katsuki Bakugou." You stare into his eyes.

"oh dilute me, gentle angel"

"Im glad to have you too, Y/f/n Y/l/n."

Everything seems so heavy so often. Even when he has you. He can't say the things he wants to because he thinks he ruins everything.

No matter how often you tell him to be up front with you. You know how he feels but you refuse to say anything until he does.

Resting your forehead on his, he closes his eyes.

"Kats. I wish you felt good enough to say what you want all of the time." You whisper.

"And I wish you wouldn't act so strong all of the time. Can't always get what we want princess." He whispers back.

"water down what I call being grateful"

"What if we promise to stop being so scared?" You suggest, pulling away from his forehead.

His eyes flutter open. "Scared? I'm not scared of shit."

"Kats. Youre scared of emotions. We have established this." You giggle.

"And youre scared of being weak." He states.

"We're so alike its nasty." You laugh.

"Okay. So how do we stop being scared?" He asks, sitting down on the rooftop, pulling on your hand to bring you down in front of him.

"We just... do the things we're scared of. Like... I'm vulnerable right now. That scares me. Your turn."

"Oh you kiss me just to kiss me not to take me home"

"You scare me." He mutters, putting his hands on your cheeks delicately- like he might break you.

"What are you so scared of?" You whisper.

Instead of saying anything, he kisses you. Its a soft kiss. It's something that only you get to experience. It's a secret from him to you. Its yours.

"it was simple it was sweetness it was good to know"

Pulling apart, his hands rest on your cheeks still.

"I cant lose you. I cant... I wouldnt be able to cope with ever losing you from my life. It's why I'm so protective. I know you get so sad and fucked up and... the roof. It scares me. She was on one- I dont want you to-"

"I wouldnt. Not when I have so much to do still. I mean now that I know you can pick locks especially!" You say, tossing your head back and letting his hands rest on your thighs instead.

"you look perfect you look different"

Both of you have tears in your eyes.

"Y/n. I love you." He finally says.

You jerk your head down, smiling at him.

"Took you long enough! I love you too Katsuki. I always have."

"You mean-"

"There was no reason to be scared." You give him a quick kiss, and pull back smiling.

"it was simple you are sweetness lets just sit a while"

You lay against his chest, looking up at the stars again, remembering how much you've been through with him. How much you've been through with out her- your other best friend.

"He finally said it- did you hear it?" You ask the sky.

"She fuckin knew didn't she-" Bakugou started.

"Of course she did! She's my best friend!" You exclaim.

"Then what the hell does that make me?"

"My boyfriend. Obviously." You chuckle.

Bakugou responds with a chuckle of his own and a kiss on your head.

"depollute me gentle angel and ill feel the sickness less and less"

If being Bakugous best friend is honorary, being his significant other is legendary.

[leviiattacks]

cashier levi was SO GOOD could you maybe write a drabble sort of thing about levi explaining why he likes reader or idk?????:?/?:? something cute i love cashier levi ☹️☹️☹️☹️

author note :: cashier levi has garnered many other cashier levi enthusiasts so here we have another addition to the cashier levi universe :-) if you’d like to read the original here it is!

word count :: 1k

“contact info? yeah the customer service helpline is listed on our website.”

“i meant could i get YOUR number?”

this woman who’s been flirting with levi for god knows how long is getting on your nerves. not because you’re jealous but you have things to do!!! people to talk to!!! netflix to catch up on!!!

she looks up at levi fluttering her lashes but he only purses his lips feeling the same annoyance as you

“when i am at work i am but a pawn used by ackermart ltd! if you wish to contact us please contact the customer service helpline.” he recites feigning an air of cordiality

“no i mean i am interested in YOU.” she really is incredibly persistent

levi huffs clearly seeing this is going nowhere

“how much will you pay me?” he asks

you’re just standing there waiting for her to get this over and done with so you can purchase your pastries from the store bakery and go

“payment????” her response has you biting back a laugh. she probably didn’t expect that

“well yes. i am an asset to this company. you can’t steal me away without upping my salary.”

“you know what–” she starts up burning in simmering anger

“fuck me? yeah i figured. have a nice day!” levi offers her a displeased smile before gesturing towards the exit

without a second to spare she storms out and it’s safe to say you don’t think you’ll see her swing by ackermart any time soon

levi turns to you and shrugs “people who flirt with cashiers are so odd??? go to a club, flirt with someone who isn’t working.”

you blink feeling confused because well, you and levi are literally in this weird inbetween of “hey i have a crush on you” and “when do we actually date...?”

and the reason for that is literally because you started throwing subtle hints at him and flirted whilst he was at work.

it’s probably the sad distant look in your eyes that makes him realise but levi soon notices the implications of what he’s said and takes back his statement.

“oh no, not you though peaches. that rule doesn’t apply to people i like.”

you feel your cheeks flaring up and look away. maybe you’re annoying, or maybe you’re just a HUGE bet amongst the staff members

you frown thinking of levi and all of the part timers gathered around a table plotting how to make you fall for him just for the fun of it

no... sasha is way too nice and would never let that happen. you’re just overthinking stuff because you’re now feeling insecure.

“oh yeah i know that.” you mumble. he scans your box of croissants then moves onto a jar of nutella all the while glancing up to observe your facial expressions

“hey, are you seriously thinking that i hate talking to you or something?” he asks. to be honest he does seem completely bewildered by that idea.

when he says that you jump back completely surprised that he’s somehow pieced together your thoughts.

you turn around even though you know no customers are around to eavesdrop. you always come in right before closing (don’t worry you’re never obnoxiously late or anything)

“yeah because i don’t know what even made me different that you wanted to reciprocate. this is really dumb to worry about but it felt weird that’s all.”

levi hums and crosses his arms over his chest. staring up at the ceiling he thinks hard for a moment.

“i liked you already so when you started flirting with me i reciprocated. who wouldn’t?”

“who wouldn’t reciprocate or who wouldn’t flirt with me?” you question, it’s not really relevant but you’d like to know

“both.”

“WAIT A SECOND.” you’re in disbelief, his words only sink in now

“YOU CRUSHED ON ME BEFORE I CRUSHED ON YOU?? NO WAY WHY??” you’re leaning over the cash register face directly in front of levi’s

you’re beaming and he thinks this is probably the most confident he’s ever seen you around him. you’re pretty bad at maintaining eye contact but now you’re intently looking right at him and wOWW were your eyes always this pretty??

“i, well. before i started manning the cashier i saw you around and you were really sweet.”

“elaborate.”

you’re going to need him to elaborate because you can’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary.

“you offered to help stack the shelves when jean fell off the step ladder.” he pauses thinking again and digs through his memory

“and when you paid for someone else’s shopping and took items out of your own basket so you’d be able to do it. i don’t know okay you were just WARM.”

“warm?!?!” you ask now standing on your tiptoes leaning even further into him. your heart is BACKFLIPPING right now

“you make people happy.” levi’s now broken eye contact and looks to the side, it’s not because he’s uncomfortable he really just has no clue what to do when your hot breath is fanning onto his cheeks and you’re this close to him

“okay i feel better now!!” throwing your arms around his neck you awkwardly hug him, the cash register jabs into your side slightly but you take the pain, levi’s really good at hugging actually AND if anyone’s warm it’s him!!! not you!!!

you stay like that and he pats your back. you’ve never been this close to him and you find that he smells of mint. it suits him.

but of course connie has to interrupt as per usual!!!

“LOVEBIRDS AT TILL NUMBER FOUR I REPEAT!! LOVEBIRDS AT TILL NUMBER FOUR!!” his voice blares through the speakers and levi tries to escape your embrace most probably wanting to take mic privileges away from him

“let’s stay like this for a bit” you whisper into his neck and he stops moving and sighs choosing to give in.

“fine.” he mutters.

“but only because you asked.” levi draws circles into your back with his index finger and you know what? whatever you and levi are doesn’t matter in this moment. there’s absolutely no need to rush and label things yet

and if you had to choose a label to give him it would be warm

levi is officially your warm person

and you’re his :-)

[missmonsters2]

omg I can request a natasha romanoff x fem reader? like nat is very protective, so someone on the team yells at reader and nat gets very angry. love u ❤️❤️❤️

Protective nat makes me so soft. And gay. Love you!! 💘

Count: 1052

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha thinks you're the most precious person to may ever grace this universe.

If she could, she would whisk you away to a place where you'd never have to deal with reality again.

But the closest she gets to that is getting you a job at Avenger Compound’s coffee stand. You had declined at first, not wanting to rely on your girlfriend for a job while you were also trying to get your degree. But Natasha always had a way of convincing you, which usually involved a debate you never win and also her tongue. 

You were currently decorating the coffee shop in the compound as it wouldn't be for another couple of hours that your coworker would come, and you wanted to surprise her.

The nice thing about working for Tony was that the compound was relatively quiet since it wasn't a regular coffee shop that anyone could access, but the pay was undoubtedly better.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...damn it," Tony groaned as he stopped by. You've been playing Christmas music since you opened this morning non-stop.

"The songs are getting stuck in my head, isn't there anything else you could play?" Tony was still mumbling under his breath the lyrics. 

"Blasphemous! Of course I can't!" You shout dramatically, smiling right after. You place your boss's regular drink on the counter for him to take. "On the house, since it's Christmas and all."

"You say that as if I don't get free coffee every day since it's, you know, my coffee shop," Tony smirks. 

"Free coffee? No sir, I've been merely adding it to your tab..." You feign confusion. "But I suppose in the spirit of giving, I'll forgive your enormous coffee debt."

Tony lets out a burst of laughter, shaking his head at you. "I'll be sure to let your boss know that you're costing him money."

"If you could talk me up for a Christmas bonus as well, I would be ever so grateful," you jokingly say with a smile. 

Tony laughs again, cheering his coffee to you as he walks off. "I have a feeling he's in the spirit of giving too!"

You shake your head as you get back to decorating. It isn't for another couple of minutes when another person comes up. It seems to be a new agent because you've never recognized him before.

"Hey!" He starts off rudely, and you already want to roll your eyes. "I need a black coffee with two sugars immediately."

"O-kay," you say, running it up on your till. "That'll be $2.78."

The guy rears his face in anger and confusion. "No, I work here. I'm an agent."

"Okay...it'll still be $2.78," you raise your brow at him. 

He scoffs at you like you're the dumbest person on this planet currently. "I don't think you understand," he tells you again, speaking slowly as if that will make you understand. "I work here, so the facilities are free. I don't pay for the coffee." 

"Yes..." You spoke slowly to him back, annoyed at him. "But this coffee shop is Tony Stark's, not part of the Avenger's property...therefore, it'll be $2.78."

The agent's face grew red in the cheeks as he started screaming at you in anger. "Listen here, do you want me to report you? I could have you replaced if you don't just give me the damn coffee!"

You were about to say something else when a furious blonde came up behind him. 

"And who do you think you are that you can get her replaced?" 

The agent swiftly turns around, shocked, face still red but now from embarrassment and fear when he sees Natasha Romanoff standing behind him, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"O-Oh, Miss Romanoff," the agent stuttered. "I was just trying to tell this girl that the coffees are free here as part of the orientation earlier."

"Yes, the coffee in the kitchen, not the coffee shop owned by Tony Stark," Natasha grounded out. "I believe the orientation outlined that as I was the one who told you."

"O-Oh, well, I--"

"So, as my girlfriend kindly told you, the coffee will be $2.78," Natasha cut him off. "I expect you're also in a giving mood today with the holidays." 

The red disappears from the agent's face as quickly as it turns pale as he looks at you. The mistake and fear alone from the entire thing has the agent pulling out a crisp $100 bill from Natasha's implication. 

"K-Keep the change for the trouble I caused. My apologies, I should've paid attention more." The agent hands you the money and grabs the coffee with shaky hands. 

"It will do you well to listen in the future and cease being an ass to retail workers," Natasha lifted her thumb to gesture the way back to the training rooms. "Finish running 30 laps by the time I'm back."

The agent nods jerkily and takes off, not even sparing you a second glance.

You stare at the crisp bill in your hand, laughing as you put the remaining change in your tip jar.

"Good morning to you too," you say with a smile as Natasha comes up to the counter. 

Natasha grumbles but stops when you put your hand on top of hers. 

"I thought you weren't going to be able to see me until lunch," you say, reminded of the conversation you had with Natasha before you both went off to work. 

"Yes, but I decided to escape for a few minutes. Steve can handle the training; I'm sure he lives for that shit," Natasha rolls her eyes. "Now, I did come down here for a reason."

"Oh? And what would that be?" You smile. 

Natasha reveals her other hand that was behind her back, holding a mistletoe in it.

"'Tis the season and all," Natasha grinned, and you have to hold back your laughter. Natasha holds the mistletoe over your head as she starts to lean in.

"I hope you're in a giving mood," you smirk, and Natasha licks her lips delicately.

"Of course," she starts giving you the bedroom eyes. "I should give that agent enough time to finish his laps."

Natasha leans so closely you can feel the brush of her lips against yours, smelling the scent of gingerbread on her.

"How generous."

[hela-avenger]

it's not you, it's me - part 8

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1212

Summary: Natasha won’t quit trying to set you up so you decide to play fire with fire. Hence making a deal with an insufferable prince who interestingly enough is willing to fake being in love with you for the rest of the night. Of course when dealing with the God of Lies things are never as they seem. Fake-Dating AU. p&w AU.

A/N: I am so sorry! I was supposed to go back to a normal work schedule but of course it didn’t happen. I’m still pretty busy but I wanted to get this out there. I’m hoping and praying to be able to update more normally now but we shall see if the fates will allow it.

P.S. I’m tagging the p&w people so if you’ll like to be taken off pls do let me know!

Tags are open!

it’s not you, it’s me masterlist & poison & wine masterlist

It’s hard to get to Tony and Pepper as they posed for what you assumed would be tomorrow’s front page news. 

So as you waited for him to free up, your mind easily wandered. 

You had to give it to him. 

Tony was the best at being the center of attention and his sudden engagement, or as you were suspecting it was planned all along, had protected you and Loki from being the talk of the town. The kiss you shared with the dark prince was now long forgotten and you remain as anonymous as before. 

You kept to the outskirts of the crowd and as you waited for the paparazzi to be done and surprisingly Loki stood patiently by your side.

“What are you doing now?” you ask him. 

“A different form of stargazing,” Loki answers and you laugh at his play of words. Before you can respond, Loki points at Happy. “Look at that.”

You watch as Happy corrals the journalists and photographers and leads them out. He seems more than, ironically, happy to be the center of attention as they interview him on the way out.

Once they’re gone, you don’t hesitate and head towards Tony and Pepper. As if expecting it, Tony is ready for your incoming embrace and you laugh into his ear. 

“Congratulations!” you tell him. “Oh, I am so happy for you!” 

“As you should be,” Tony answers. 

You roll your eyes at him and turn to Pepper.

“You’ve got your hands full with this one.” 

“Don’t I know it,” she laughs. 

The mood shifts as Loki catches up to you. His hand drops to the curve of your back to remind you that he’s there. You don’t fail to notice how close Tony stands by Pepper nor the way her smile seems to turn a bit stiff.

“Got anything to say, Reindeer Games?”

Loki glances at you momentarily before offering Tony a curt nod.

“I wish you the best of unions,” Loki states and in classic Loki fashion, he grins mischievously, “..Tin Can.” 

You are quick to glare at him but he ignores you in favor of the impromptu staring contest he’s currently having with Tony. 

It doesn’t take long for Tony to crack a smile and offer his hand for Loki to shake.

“Nice one,” he chuckles. “Heard it before though, but I appreciate the effort.” 

Tony then turns to you.

“Keep him in line, will you?” 

“I think he’s doing well on his own,” you answer. “But I’ll stick to his side just to be sure.”

As if he read your mind, Loki removes his hand from your back offering his arm for you to take. You don’t miss the way Tony and Pepper narrow at the soft action. 

You admit it must be strange seeing as at the beginning of the night you two didn’t know each other but it didn’t feel that way anymore.

It was jarring realizing that new fact and it suddenly made you nervous as to the implications it held now.

“Umm, well I need another drink,” you begin to ramble, “Would you like a drink, Loki? Yes? Good, let’s go to the bar.”

Without any further acknowledgments, you lead Loki across the room. He’s quick to place your order and forgoes getting a drink himself. You ignore his stare as you notice how empty the room seems to have become.

With the paparazzi now gone, every socialite and big name guests that Tony had invited to fill the room had departed too. The room was now filled with all of your close-knit friends and whoever they invited. 

You’re surprised when you now realize that there is a very obvious empty space that cannot be so easily filled. Steve was nowhere to be seen and you refused to believe he would have missed such an event as Tony finally proposing to Pepper. You don’t know how you could have possibly missed him until now.

“Is everything ok?” 

“Um, well… I haven’t seen Steve at all tonight,” you tell Loki. “He should be here but he’s not.” 

“I’m sure he’ll make an appearance,” Loki assures you. “He probably stepped out for a moment.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” you answer, not fully convinced.

Loki seems to notice your unease and is quick to offer a solution.

“I’ll ask my brother if he knows of the Captain’s current whereabouts,” Loki states. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” 

You remain at the bar and watch as Loki heads over to his brother who is excitedly telling some kind of war story. Loki sneaks up on him and manages to whisper into Thor’s ear but your focus is pulled away before you can see a response. With your distraction, Natasha sets herself next to you and asks a question of her own. 

“It’s not all an act, is it?” 

You struggle to form a response because you don’t know the answer yourself. 

This all began with a lie but that was all quickly forgotten the moment you began to rely on each other with deeper truths. 

“He’s someone I’ve grown to care about,” you answer. “And I like to think that he’s grown to care about me too.” 

Natasha never expected such a response from you.

“What is it that you see in him?” 

“I see him… entirely,” you explain. “The good and the bad and everything in between. You would be surprised how soft his heart can be and why he protects it at all costs. There is so much good in him and yes, his past is a bit dark, but he fights so hard to change that stigma about him. And he sees me in return, Nat. He sees me entirely too.”

Natasha’s smile is more of a grimace. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

“Sorry for what?”

“I know about you,” Natasha states. “About what you really are and who you…”

Natasha avoids any further explanation with Loki’s return. She slips away and Loki takes her place beside you with an answer of his own.

“Thor claims the Soldier went to pick up an old friend,” Loki states. “He’ll be back shortly.” 

“That’s great,” you answer, setting your glass aside as your hand shakes a little too strongly. “Thanks for…” 

“Is everything ok?” 

You glance up at him and hate yourself for making him worry. 

“Nat just said something,” you answer. “She said she knows about me and what I am and I don’t know but I feel like things are about to go terribly wrong.” 

“All because she knows about your true heritage?” 

“No, I could overlook all of that,” you stammer out. “No… it was because she apologized.” 

“Apologized? Loki repeats. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “And that’s what worries me.” 

Loki brushes away the frown lines on your forehead and presses a kiss on the smooth skin. Just the small act lightens the tension in your body, but it doesn’t last long. Not when you peer past him and see a familiar face you thought you would never see again.

All the pieces of the puzzle fall into place and you hate yourself for not having seen the bigger picture earlier. 

You step away from Loki as a storm of emotions begins to brew within you.

“Bucky...”

it’s not you, it’s me: @mywellspingoflife @toe-wind-ek-jou @mejusttryintogetby @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @nickkie1129 @theinfinitenerd @lucywrites02 @nerdyshaddowhunter @10velyhaos @chantelle-m-93 @lucywrites02 @princessslashcrazy @the-bilkush @lilliansstuff​ @dark-night-sky-99​

poison & wine: @damalseer​ @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @marvelloonie @sulbaeksul @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420 @pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15 @oneprolificqueen @nikki-who-likes-coffee @fandomrelative @nikki419ninja @onedollarduck @ephemeraljade @catsladen @captainmarvelnerd @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse @ddaeing @leftperfectionmoon @lmfaohader

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow-blog @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox @heykathchuu @is-it-madness @writingletterstothefire @nonsensicalobsessions @help-i-need-a-social-life

All Works: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @moonlightprime @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart @fandoms-allovertheplace @polireader @hufflautia

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•The Grey Area•

Part One: •Fallen Angel•

Summary: You're Enji Todoroki's prized possession, his Angel. Given this name because of your pure, white wings. Your quirk is truly unique, until you come face to face with Enji's new friend and hit man, Hawks. His presence shakes you, his abilities intimidate you. The roll he plays in your life? That's up in the air.

Pairing: Keigo Takami x FemReader, Endeavor x FemReader

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, descriptions of death, sexual themes and implications, mentions of harassment, (Eventual smut, as well as other warnings- they will be at the beginning of each chapter.)

Word Count: 4,471

A/N: I'm gonna write this shit til I get sick of writing it. Not to suck my own dick but I am in love with this story idea so we're just gonna keep rolling til it feels right to end it lmao.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Silk may be the worst material ever invented. It slips and slides and hides absolutely nothing. Your lungs deflate as you slide your hands down the front of the horrid thing you've been asked to wear. It was laid out on your bed for you, with a small note that said, "Get dolled up for me." It isn't signed, it doesn't need to be.

It's a note from the man that more or less owns you. He likes to say he takes care of you, you like to say he holds your leash. At the end of the day, coming to him was what you needed to do to survive, so you did it. You shake the thoughts of how you came to be here from your head, ignoring the dreadful remnants of a time when you were desperate enough to turn to him for protection.

Enji Todoroki lives one of the most complex double lives in existence. He’s a magnificent hero, topping the charts and staying there. He saves lives, lets his flames shine bright, he's a beacon of hope.

He’s also an incredibly feared underground crime lord. When the flames are off, he's no longer heroic, he's no longer honorable. He's bloodthirsty, his friends are few and his enemies are many.

Keeping these two realms separate is quite the task, but he pulls it off with his vast wealth and by calling in the seemingly limitless favors from those he’s helped out of sticky situations.

The supposedly heroic faces you’ve seen slinking around his estate were jarring at first. The mighty do indeed fall, and they tumble right into his lap. They’re always after something, a loan, various narcotics, maybe some illegal steroids to increase their performances.

Enji loves a bargain, he loves to string those poor saps along until they’re too confused to agree to anything that’s reasonable. It’s horribly entertaining, as backwards as it all is, you’ve grown fond of the way he befuddles every hopeless individual that finds themselves desperate enough to seek out his help.

Usually, you’re there by his side. You block out the conversation as you serve drinks, laugh at the bad jokes, and most of all, look pretty. Your job is to be his greatest manipulation tactic. Give the suckers something to drool at, get them drunk, stay out of the way so Enji can lock in whatever deal he’s making.

You ruffle your hair, straighten your dress, and take one final glance in your mirror.

There’s a familiar tightness in your chest when you acknowledge the real reason you’re used as something to gawk at.

Your wings.

Two broad, unruly, attention grabbing, white wings emerging from your shoulder blades. Little speckles of brown and black exist among the sea of white feathers that fall all the way to the floor. The feathers at the tips always look pitiful, since their entire existence is spent dragging the floor.

They’re useless things, heavy and cumbersome and completely nonfunctional. You could probably fly if you wanted to, if somebody would teach you. You never stood a chance at that though, your parents couldn’t even begin to do so, and Enji certainly won’t waste energy on it. No, he likes having you on the ground. Safe and sound, much more convenient to keep you without a cage.

The bones of them often ache, obviously needing to be used, desperate to do their job. They most resemble the wings of a Barn Owl. Along with the wings, your quirk provides you with exceptional vision and hearing. Sometimes it feels like a sixth sense, like you can tell when things are going to happen before they actually do.

This, of course, makes you invaluable to Enji during his meetings. You’re able to pick up on nervous ticks, listen to the whispers, and tip him off. He does love keeping you around for that, you’ve assisted him innumerable times, and he always rewards so generously. He keeps you comfortable, spoiled even, anything for his Angel.

Enji’s Angel.

It was never very official, he just started calling you by it, and you started answering to it. In your younger years it was almost affectionate, slightly comforting. Now, it’s a scarlet letter, a stage name, belonging to somebody who doesn’t quite exist.

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The meeting is absolute torture. Some schmuck is sitting across from you and Enji, blubbering his way through some bullshit about how he’ll have the money next week. You’re perched on Enji’s lap, reclining against his chest with your chin up high.

You’re all sitting around a large oak coffee table in Enji’s office, drinks in hands, guns in holsters.

“I swear, the guy I know, he owes me, he says he’ll have the money by this weekend, maybe even sooner!” The sniffling client begs. He’s a pitiful little man, all short and greasy looking, with bulbous eyes that sit above a large aquiline nose.

“Oh, how reassuring, my money is in the hands of a friend of a liar,” Enji sneers, voice low and menacing, “Doesn’t that put you at ease, Angel?” His hand snakes around your waist, making his claim on you evident to everyone in the room.

The client brought two goons with him, both sit on the lavish loveseat, watching with putrid envy as Enji’s hands roam across your middle.

You run your hand up his massive chest, making a show of adjusting your hips in his lap. You flash your eyes up to his and roll your shoulders, wings rippling as you do. The room is taken over by a heavy, consuming silence.

You survey Enji’s face, void of flames for such a serious event. You hear hearts beat faster, breathing quicken, idiots, every one of them.

“No, I don’t think it does, sir.” You purr, hand playing with the collar of his grey dress shirt.

This whole charade used to make your skin crawl, feeling eyes burn into your flesh, knowing that if Enji weren’t here you’d be laid out on the table while the pigs around you took turns.

You expressed this once, crying and shaking as you begged Enji to stop bringing you into them. His only response was to demand that you tell him whenever somebody was making you uncomfortable, and he would gladly take care of it.

It only took one client, one dense motherfucker who put his hand on your thigh. The second his hand was on you, Enji put a bullet in his head. You watched the blood splatter, and the body hit the floor, but ripped your eyes away after that. You turned into Enji’s chest, clutching him as you realised it was all your doing, Enji had killed for you.

Since then, you vowed to maintain a facade of confidence in these meetings. If Enji were to kill, it would be because of his own corrupted motives, not for you, never again.

You no longer let the bile rise in your throat, you don’t look away from any perverse gaze. You keep your nerves steady, and you stare the bastards down.

One of the goons shifts in their seat, making Enji shoot him a warning glance as you continue to fiddle with his shirt.

“I don’t think it’s wise to leave so much money up to ‘maybe’ and ‘this guy’.” You sigh as you slide off Enji’s lap, keeping your hand on his chest as you slink around to stand behind him. He gives you a knowing look, full of admiration and pride, he does love watching you perform.

Show time.

You flutter your wings out to the sides, stretching them, making a spectacle of them. All three of the men watch with comically amazed expressions. Their jaws may as well be on the floor, you slide your hands onto Enji’s broad shoulders so you can rub small circles into his muscles.

“I agree, I don’t like all this ‘maybe’ bullshit.” the energy in the room thickens as he speaks, falling into heavy silence in reverence of the power his voice exudes.

"Angel, will you grab us some more drinks?" You draw yourself up tall, ignoring the eyes that gorge on your decolletage.

"Yes Sir." You lean down to place a sweet kiss on Enji's cheek, flashing a little too much skin for his guests.

"Isn't she lovely, gentlemen?" He wonders out loud, looking up at you fondly.

No, not fondly, possessively, greedily. There's no loving tenderness that comes with fondness.

The men nod quietly, all afraid to cross a line, none willing to speak out of turn.

"Do a spin for them, sweetheart." He grabs your wrist and pulls you around to his side.

Your cheeks and ears run hot as he lifts your arm for you to spin, leaving space for your wings. You give a smooth twirl, feathers and dress flowing around you with a subtle woosh.

"Men would kill for her, don't you think?" Another round of silent nods, another wave of tense energy.

"I have." It's a warning, loud and clear.

He waves his hand in your direction, dismissive and bored.

"Go on, Angel. I have to have a private word with our guests." You glide out of the room gracefully, walking slowly enough so they can all watch you leave.

You swallow the terrible feelings rising in your gut, knowing damn well how rarely people leave that room alive after a "private word". You find your way to the kitchen easily, a tray of drinks already prepared on the fine granite countertop.

Enji's estate is nothing short of magnificent, all expensive foreign materials, gold fixtures and crystal chandeliers. All supplied by his mass of illegally acquired wealth.

One of the sweet little maids nods at you, gawking at your wings as always. You have a strange relationship with the staff at the house, they always treat you like some skittish animal. Afraid that you're unpredictable, even dangerous.

It's always seemed odd to you, but you've grown to understand it. None of them know where you came from, nor how you ended up in Enji's good graces, let alone a cherished prize to him.

On your way back down the hall, you hear the shouting of men, not an usual occurrence, but this time it makes your blood run cold. It sounds much more… painful, then usual. Cries for help mixed with curses and strangled yells. You freeze when the door rattles with such force, the only explanation can be that a body was thrown against it.

Then, there's silence. Silence, followed by sick laughter. You know Enji's voice too well, his rich tone fills your ears, but there's one other. Did he have an accomplice? It's not uncommon for Enji to have all his bases covered, so it's possible one of the goons was a double agent.

Your feet find their function again and you pad quietly towards the door. You take a second to breathe deeply, preparing yourself for the inevitable bloodshed you're about to witness.

You rap your knuckles on the door very quietly, wouldn't want to disturb the dead.

"Angel? Is that you?" Enji's voice calls as his laughter settles, the other man went silent as soon as your hand met the wood of the door.

"Yes sir." You say, trying to keep your voice soft but still wanting to be heard.

"Oh shit, get this out of the way."

A body.

You hear something slide then drop, and your chest squeezes with guilt. One day you won't have these feelings, one day seeing someone drop dead will evoke no more feeling than watching dead hair fall to the ground after it's trimmed. At least, that's what Enji tells you.

The door cracks open, a wall of a human standing on the other side of it. Enji beams down at you, the smallest amount of blood decorates his gray collar.

"Why do you always get so messy when I leave?" You tease, despite the sick feeling in your gut.

"It's a messy business." He counters, holding the door for you to step into the room. You expect the slit throats, the smell of blood, and the horrid joy in Enji's face. What you don't expect, is the creature poised in the corner of the room.

A creature with wings. No, not a creature, a man. With menacing, vibrant, crimson wings. His face is nothing but sharp serious lines, highlights of gold with intense shadows. He's covered in slim fitting black clothing, giving him a tactical and militant look.

He looks so powerful, and so beautiful. The only thing you can think to compare him to is a fallen angel, heavenly, but haunting.

In his hands, he holds a… sword? Then he steps further into view, and you see the blade shift. A feather. With a smooth, deadly twitch of his wrist, he flicks the rigid feather. It sends blood splattering across the floor where he stands.

His glowing eyes watch you, waiting for you to react, maybe waiting for you to scream, run away and hide. You can't, though, you're entranced. He has wings. Your own twitch behind your back, suddenly feeling even more cumbersome and useless after seeing how athletic and beautiful his own are.

As gruesome as the scene is, he's magnificent, stunning in such an overwhelming way. His eyes rake over your body, but it doesn't feel perverse, it feels like he's sizing you up, estimating your abilities.

Because he is.

"Angel, this is Hawks, he's a very good friend of mine." Enji explains, relaxing back into his chair as you and Hawks continue to watch each other.

You would never know it, but his breath hitched the second he saw you. Enji had told him about his Angel, but his description did you no justice. To Hawks, at least, you look capable, intimidating even. Your wings are equal in size to his, but compared to your smaller frame they look so fierce.

Neither of you has seen or heard of someone with a quirk like yours, or even remotely similar. So you stand there, amazed, in fear, sizing each other up.

"Isn't she something?" Enji's voice pulls you out of your trance, your eyes finally breaking from his friend's.

Hawks just hums, eyes still locked on your form as you set the tray of drinks down in front of Enji. He pours one for himself, then one for you, and one for Hawks. You take a glance around at the gore surrounding you, and shake your head at the drink.

"Not tonight, I'm tired." You try to sell it as best you can, but Enji sees right through you.

"Her stomach isn't very strong yet, sensitive little thing." He says to Hawks.

When you glance over to him, his reaction unsettles you. He grins, a broad, breathtaking thing. He's amused, embarrassed for you. How silly of you to be so bothered by a fucking murder scene.

Aside from the dead bodies, you can't stand another second under the predatory gaze of Enji's new friend. The whole scene makes you more uncomfortable than anything has in a long while. It's very apparent by Enji's lack of weapons, and by Hawks' feral appearance, that Hawks is some kind of hit man.

"Get some rest, then." Enji says dismissively.

You kiss him on the cheek, earning a rare smile from his usual straight lips. There's no affection behind your kiss, but there is loyalty, and he knows that.

Doing your best not to seem like you're in a rush, you keep your head down and walk steadily towards the door.

"Nice to meet you, Angel." His voice is like caramel syrup, dripping over you and heating you up.

You hate it.

You give him nothing but a turse nod then duck out the door, trying to keep your heart in it's cage, trying to keep your hands from shaking. What the hell was that?

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You spend some time in the library before heading to bed. The fireplace crackles and pops, casting beautiful, dancing lights on the dark oak bookshelves. It's not a massive library, but it's decent. Full of books that have been collected by Enji, but not read. You do the reading, he does the acquiring.

Not tonight, though. Tonight you just sit, you sit and overthink. You can't seem to shake the uneasy feeling this "Hawks" character gave you. He was so primal looking, so unhinged, so… beastly.

The contrast of his beauty is what keeps punching you in the gut. He was nothing short of stunning, like a marble statue brought to life by an enchantress. That's even without his wings. God, his wings. He must look spectacular in the air, so majestic.

You stuff the thought down, deep down. The longing in your chest is enough to make your eyes sting with tears. Flying. A feeling you've never known, but the instinct burns beneath your skin. You wonder if even knows how lucky he is…

You grab onto those thoughts before they run away, standing to your feet with a stretch and a ruffle of your own wings.

You just need sleep, you need to shake this off. Enji has plenty of "friends", plenty of lowlifes and murderers that he keeps close. Hawks is no different, he'll linger for a bit, then disappear under mysterious circumstances, and you'll never hear his name again.

The thought should bring your comfort as you travel to your bedroom, but as you wander through the halls, your chest aches. Somehow, the idea of not knowing all you can about this stranger makes you itch. Which in turn, makes you detest his presence even more. There's no reason for such a fascination… aside from your resemblance to him.

The sound of your bedroom door latching behind you does bring you some piece, lifting some of the weight off of your lungs. Until you hear the slightest ruffle echo from the direction of your window.

The hair on your neck stands on end as you draw your wings up to their full size. Your shoulders are rigid, fists clenched as you whip your head around to identify the sound.

"Do you always sleep with the door unlocked?" That sugary voice falls on your ears once again, raising goosebumps all over your body.

You don't answer, you only watch, inching backwards towards the door. There could be only one reason one of Enji's friends would corner you like this, the thought makes your heart beat to the point of nearly breaking through your chest.

He's perched on your windowsill, feet dangling into the room, wings relaxed behind him as the wind catches his scarlet feathers. The curtains away around him as they catch the cool breeze, the whole scene gives him an almost ghostly look, especially with the pale light of the moon as the only illumination in your bedroom.

"Easy, kid." He slides off lazily, arms crossed as he saunters towards you, "I just wanted to talk."

His lips quirk up into an easy smirk, something that makes your insides stir.

"Talk quick, then get out." You snap, pressing your back against the door, drawing your wings in around yourself protectively as your arms wrap around your chest. He stops nearly a foot from you, his own wings spread wide, almost like he's showing off.

The energy is thick, pressing on your lungs as you watch his face. He looks down his nose at you, not judging, but observing. His eyes are lit with a patient look, something soft but relatively unreadable. His proximity overwhelms you, even up close, you're hard pressed to find a single flaw.

There you stand, shrouded in scarlet, him in white. Both waiting for the other to speak, or move, or even breathe. Desperate for some evidence that you were both real and not some apparition sent to mock your poor mortal brain with an image of unparalleled perfection.

Wild, dazzling, gilded eyes search your face. Predatory pupils slit as he takes in every detail he can. His chest rises, and he speaks. He utters a simple, "They're beautiful." and everything shatters.

A cadence of feelings builds within your chest, tuning up like an orchestra. All unorganized noise, arching and mixing, impossible to focus on anything in particular.

Then the most beautiful part, the settling of the chaos. All of the instruments find their notes as they fade out. The anticipatory silence settles within you, preparing you for the moment when they all roll into the first cord of their symphony.

You don't feel right taking the name Angel, not after this, not after you've seen one. Your reverence for his beauty is short lived, though. As soon as you remember the way his eyes were wild with bloodlust, the way he had taken lives with his own feathers.

Admiration is replaced with apprehension. However, the strongest feeling is curiosity, morbid, forbidden curiosity.

You shove the compliment to the far corners of your brain, ignoring the fire it stokes in your heart.

"Talk or leave." You say shortly.

"Not a fan of flattery?" He asks, quirking a thick eyebrow.

"Not a fan of coercion." You reply, arms drawing tighter around your chest.

Hawks pauses for a moment, considering your answer.

"What are you a fan of?" His smile grows a bit more as he turns away from you on his heels, looking almost bored. You stay glued to your door, wrapped around yourself, completely frozen.

"Well, I'm usually a fan of not having my room invaded by murderers." You sneer, attempting to ignore the way his body moves so elegantly as he investigates your room with fabricated intrigue.

He scoffs a bit at your feisty retort, looking over his shoulder to give you quick up and down with his eyes. He wanders back to the window, back to you as he takes a look out.

"A murderer. That's a bold accusation, sweetheart." He turns around again, backlit by the moonlight.

"Can you use em'?" He asks, nodding behind you.

The question bites at your insides, it twists your guts up onto angry knots.

You shake your head, you can't say it out loud, you can't admit it.

His face falls the slightest bit, less amused, more aware. Perhaps he feels sympathy, imagining a life without the freedom of flight.

"I see." He says quietly, "A dove?" He wonders out loud.

His prying starts to eat at your patience, you already feel intruded upon by him sneaking into your bedroom, and now he wants to dissect your anatomy? Yet, you still find yourself drawn to the conversation, hanging on his words, hoping to gain information about him in exchange for information about yourself.

"Owl." You say simply, easing off the door a little so you can spread your wings some, "The markings give it away."

He nods, taking in the messy brown and black speckles at the tips.

"How did you do that with your feather?" You ask, works spilling out a little too fast.

Both of his eyebrows shoot up, surprised by your sudden engagement in the conversation.

His only reply is by drawing himself up by his shoulders. Then, miraculously, one of his feathers flies from his wing, darting straight for you until it pauses in front of your face. You flinch slightly before it pauses, then you stand transfixed, watching the small crimson blade levitate before you.

You want to reach out and grab it, find the string that's holding it up, find the answer to this magic trick.

"Pretty cool, huh?" He says, full of confidence as he sways back over to you, "You can touch it." He says gently.

So you do, you take it into your hand gently. The texture is shocking, it's soft and silky, much more pleasant than your coarse and textured feathers.

"How?" You ask, amazed by his abilities.

He shrugs and turns around again, pacing back to the window. You take a mental note of his inability to stand still for longer than a few seconds.

"I just… can." He says it so matter of fact, like it's the obvious answer.

Now that he's more relaxed, not holding a feather dripping with blood, he seems almost... Friendly? He certainly seems less frightening, less aggressive and formidable.

You hold the feather in your palms, waiting for the next trick.

"Keep it." He says as he settles back down onto the windowsill, sitting like he was when you first found him.

He stretches an arm around to brace on the outside of the window frame, leaning back into the open air of the night. For a brief moment you panic, knowing you're on the third floor, but then you just feel stupid for being concerned for a person with functioning wings.

"Why?" You ask, closing in your hands as you look up at him.

His smile is devilish, he rolls his shoulders back and lifts himself up to his feet. He crowds the large window, filling it with his lean body and those powerful wings.

"In case you need me." He winks and gives you a lazy, two finger salute before letting himself fall away into the sky.

Your chest lurches as you dart to the window, desperate to see him in action, desperate to see someone fly.

By the time you reach the window, though, he's nowhere to be seen. Evaporated into the stars, not even the sound of beating wings left as evidence.

You glance down at the feather in your hands, and notice it twitch to life before it floats up to hover in front of your face again. Your chest fills with an absolute mess of unorganized, chaotic feelings that you can't even begin to pull apart and make sense of.

The feather flicks under your chin, tickling the skin there with its pointed tip. You snatch it roughly, irritated with the teasing, perturbed by his nonchalance. You slam the window shut before huffing over to your dresser, you rip a drawer open and shove the feather between your clothes.

You slam it shut as the raging sea of emotions beats against your chest, drowning your lungs as well as any cognitive brain function.

You can't make sense of any of this shit, you can't imagine how anyone could have ever made it up to your room without Enji's knowledge. Unless… he was let up… but that doesn't make any sense. None of it does. It's all so cloudy, you feel thousands of questions swarm your brain, and you don't possess a single answer.

The only thing you know for sure, is that you have to find out more about this fallen angel, you have to find out more about Hawks.