#what can i do without access to vision? sit in one spot mostly. listen to things? thats really it

[rocket-candy-heart]

Having a Glasses Problem is one of the most stressful kinds of problem to have. Its like ok, if this doesn't go well I will be...losing my access to vision for an undetermined amount of time. That is...not manageable at all

[archived-kin]

caught in a twin courtship

note from kin: i’m going to be honest i only really wrote this because the title is fun to say, so it isn’t as cohesive as i normally would have wanted to make it

(this is an au where the twins aren’t separated by the unknown god! instead, just their world-hopping powers were stolen, and that’s why they’re journeying to find said god - to get their powers back so that they can go home. i’ve also excluded paimon since i kind of forgot about her while writing this haha)

(this doesn’t follow canon at all since reader and the twins just kind of start wandering about after the dvalin incident rather than heading straight for liyue oops)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, lumine, aether, diluc, venti, jean

pairing(s): aether/reader/lumine

warning(s): i don’t think so??

genre: fluff with a little bit sprinkling of angst

you first meet the twins in the aftermath of the stormterror battle. it isn’t a glamorous introduction by any means - it’s pretty unflattering, actually - but it definitely makes a powerful first impression.

the group - aether, lumine, venti, diluc, and jean - are on their way back to mondstadt city, making small talk here and there, but mostly just walking in silence.

then they hear a yell in the distance.

jean and lumine both drop into a battle stances, venti leaps to hide behind aether with a very unmanly squeak of fear… but diluc, who arguably should have been the most alerted by this occurrence, just gives a resigned sigh and pauses.

a split second later, a figure comes speeding up to the group. you barrel up to diluc and immediately punch him square in the stomach, yelling “why didn’t you tell me you were going after stormterror?!”

aether and venti both give matching gasps of horror at the blatant disrespect, but diluc only shakes his head and catches your fist as it goes for another blow, this one aimed at his chest, and chastises, “calm down, i left a note.”

“i left a note,” you mimic, an absolutely awful impression that has you sounding more like a mosquito than the darknight hero, “fat lot of use that is when you aren’t even telling me where you’re going!”

diluc evades another jab at his arm and firmly sets his hands on both your shoulders, effectively anchoring you to the ground. you contemplate swinging your feet at his knees and knocking him over, or maybe shocking him with your electro vision, but ultimately decide that you might as well try to preserve what little dignity you have left in front of those three people you’ve never met before

so you stop with a defeated sigh and turn to face said three people to introduce yourself

it turns out that you’re diluc’s cousin and he’s been having to baby-sit you for the last few years after your own parents left on a ‘business trip’ to snezhnaya that they’re still not back from

you’re pretty sure they’re dead, killed by the fatui, and you say as much during your introduction without even the slightest sign of distress, which is a little unsettling

lumine’s first thought is that you’re quite the interesting character, what with the casual way you treat diluc, and how you don’t seem to question whatever situation lead you to meet in the first place

aether’s first thought is holy shit, they’re cute

one twin greets you in return with a lot more enthusiasm than the other, and venti the bard wastes no time in asking whether you have access to good master diluc’s wine storage

(you’d be shocked by the audacity if you weren’t just as bad as him when it came to shamelessness)

strangely enough, the fact that aether likes you so much actually makes lumine more wary of you than she was initially

aether trusts too easily, and from experience, that usually leads to disaster - and your flippancy regarding your parents’ apparent probable deaths rather inclines her to think that you might be a very dangerous person indeed

the three of you don’t see each other for a couple of days after that - you and diluc leave for dawn winery together, while the twins depart with venti to wrap their whole situation up, and jean returns to her duties in mondstadt city

all this time, apparently unbeknownst to even himself, aether keeps finding ways to bring you up in the middle of conversation

you’d only spoken to him for a few minutes and somehow that as enough to get him absolutely fascinated

lumine would be lying if she said she wasn’t still curious about you as well, but it gets annoying after aether somehow manages to mention how ‘mysterious’ your black cloak is in the middle of a conversation about why mitachurls are able to randomly set their axes on fire

luckily for these two, they happen to run into you the very next day!

you’re in the middle of taking out a ruin guard stomping around the thousand winds temple -  a ruin guard that the twins had been meaning to take down themselves, which is why they’re here in the first place

at first they move to help you, only to stop short and watch in awe as you plunge down at the ruin guard from atop one of the enormous pillars, your polearm held steady in your grasp as your entire body seems to spark and glow with a deep purple electro energy

the sharp blade of your polearm goes clean through the top of the ruin guard’s head and shatters its core, and it sinks to the ground with a massive thud that echoes around the temple ruins, massive wooden limbs twitching and jerking as the last of your vision’s energy disperses from it

aether and lumine are basically star-struck

from there you spot them and call them over for a conversation, show them how to take apart a ruin guard’s circuits to get at the good parts, and somehow end up agreeing to journey with them across teyvat in their search for an unknown god who stole their abilities to hop from world to world as well as their apparent true power that allows them to wield all seven elements at once

the details are a little lost on you, but what you’re hearing is that you get to go on a cool adventure with a cool gal and a cool lad, so you’re pretty much all for it

diluc isn’t too happy about you up and leaving without so much as two week’s notice (partially because he has literally no friends apart from you and he’d get lonely without his little cousin bothering him all the time) but you simply tell him to deal with it and go anyway

(you do give him a big hug and promise to visit, you’re not heartless)

from then on you, aether and lumine become a dynamic trio like no other

it’s actually pretty damn spooky how well the three of you end of working together

aether and lumine had long since formed a style of fighting that meant they made up for each other’s weak spots and could attack in perfect sync, but then you come along and somehow manage to make their already pretty flawless formation even better

is it witchcraft? they honestly don’t know

considering you fit so well into their battle strategies, it follows that you’d also slot perfectly into their every day life

lumine is cautious at first, wondering if your presence would disrupt her and her brother’s long since pre-established routines, but you fit in so naturally that it’s as if you were there all long

maybe it it’s this that makes both twins slowly start falling for you - the comfort of being beside you and the familiarity that you bring are things that they struggled to find, being trapped in a world far from their own with no way to get out, and they unknowingly latch onto you like drowning men clutching lifebuoys

aether is the most obvious about his feelings - he starts waking up earlier just because he knows you do, sitting beside you as you stoke a campfire and keep watch for any approaching monsters, making quiet conversation as lumine continues sleeping. he tells you stories about his adventures in other worlds, including an encounter with a rather bigoted individual who is the reason that he keeps his hair so long while lumine’s has been cut short

he even starts taking his hair out of its braid before he goes to sleep so that he can ask you to braid it for him when he wakes up

lumine is a lot more subtle

she finds excuses to stand closer to you when, deliberately brushing her fingers against yours when handing you something. she listens far more attentively to you when you speak than anyone else, and she smiles far more in your presence, hanging onto your every word and gazing at you so intensely that it’s almost unsettling

of course, the twins notice each other’s feelings pretty easily

at first neither acknowledges it - it’d be far too messy for both to accept that they’d both fallen in love with the same person, let alone actually admit this to each other

but it gets to the point where it just isn’t ignorable anymore, and finally the twins decide to talk

it’s about as civil and sensible as they could hope for with the subject at hand, and they eventually decide to talk to you about it

and so, we come to an ultimatum. what will your choice be?

if you reject both, it’ll be hard to continue adventuring with twins who can’t look in your direction. neither resent you, of course, but the atmosphere has become so stifling that they can’t even make eye contact

it’s as if an enormous gap has opened up between the three of you. the twins are avoiding each other as well, unsure of how to handle the fact that they’re both in love with the same person and have now both been rejected by that same person. if anything, they should be becoming closer out of solidarity, but it seems that they can’t stand to be in each other’s presence as much as they can’t stand to be in yours.

the three of you still work together as seamlessly in battle as you did before, but once the final monster has been cut down and your weapons are sheathed, that connection seems to disappear again.

it’s aether who finally breaks the stalemate. he starts trying to start conversations as the three of you sit awkwardly apart from each other around a fire, and while the first few attempts end in stony silence and an awkward cough on his part, eventually you begin replying with some semblance of the humour you used to

from there things only improve - the three of you come to a silent mutual agreement to leave this behind you, and soon you’re all laughing and joking as you used to

lumine and aether both know that they cannot force you to love either of them, and they respect your choice. if anything, they’re the ones in the wrong for springing something like this on you so suddenly, and they start to feel a little guilty that they were essentially pressuring you into making a choice that you were never obligated to make

so they return to treating you as a dear friend, just as before. things are different now, of course, but they can only be grateful that you continue to travel with them and stay by their side; this situation doesn’t make them love you any less, even if you don’t love them in the same way.

if you choose lumine, aether will be understanding. the twins have been each other’s only support for longer than they can remember, and as the older brother, he’s well used to giving things up for his sister.

he’ll still be friendly and amicable, but he won’t seek you out as much as he did before. he starts braiding his hair by himself again, and stays in bed as late as he can every morning so that he doesn’t have to be face to face with you. just because he’s accepted this doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

sometimes, when the sky grows dark and you and lumine have long since fallen asleep beside each other, he wonders to himself - why is it that he has to give everything to his sister? he’s given away so much, so why couldn’t the universe let him have this one thing?

but he knows, deep down, that this is nothing to do with the universe - you simply fell in love with someone that wasn’t him, his sister at that, and he’s struggling to come to terms with it.

he wants to hate you, hate lumine, hate the relationship that the two of you have formed, but he just can’t. he loves the both of you in different ways that are just as important as each other, and he can’t stand to lose either of you. he’d rather throw himself off of starsnatch cliff.

so he’ll smile and bear it, even if it’s a battle to keep himself from breaking down every time he sees the two of you lace your hands together, off in your own little word, so near and yet so far from him.

if you choose aether, lumine will become cold. at first, that is. she’s never been as empathetic as her brother, always holding grudges and developing dislike much more easily. it had taken a lot for her to open up to you in the first place, and now that you’ve rejected her, it’s going to take a while for her to return to the same camaderie with you that she had before.

lumine does not begrudge aether for being the one you chose. if anything, she’s glad - aether is always putting her first and himself second, and she’s happy that he has someone like you, who lights his eyes up in a way that she’s never seen before.

but our hearts often betray our mind, after all, and lumine can’t help but scowl and turn away every time she sees her brother wrap his arms around your waist or press a kiss to your cheek. despite her best efforts, all she can think is why? why did you have to choose him?

she can’t bring herself to hate you, though. as much as it feels like her heart is threatening to split down the middle when she sees you smile and is reminded of something that she cannot have, there is an equal joy in the fact that her brother can be with the person that he loves so dearly. if anything, the two of you deserve to be happy together.

lumine would never do anything that could take that away, and so she forces herself to accept it. it takes several days of tentative conversation and barely held back tears, but eventually the two of you seem to return to the way you were before - all friendly jabs and light-hearted banter and little jokes exchanged over crossed blades.

but lumine knows that your friendship can never be quite the same as it was before. she’ll forever be holding you at arm’s length, terrified to let you get too close lest you see how much your presence affects her. she can’t let you know how much she loves you because she will never be the one who links hands with you as you walk down a long, winding path, or the one who holds you close under a darkening sky filled with stars - because that person is aether, and she would sooner die before she takes her brother’s happiness away.

if you refuse to choose, the twins will be at a loss at what to do. they hadn’t considered this scenario - that you had somehow come to love both of them.

the confusion becomes joy soon enough, though. they realise what this means - they both love you, and you love both of them! isn’t this perfect?

neither are particularly thrilled at the concept of ‘sharing’ you with the other, so to speak, but in the end they both equally want each other to be happy as they want you to be, so the logical conclusion is that they both become your partners.

they’re not too sure how this should work, nor what sort of label to put on it, but they come to you tentatively with the idea anyway

to their joyous surprise, you agree!

and from then marks the point of no return…

aether is definitely the clingier of the two. once he realises that he’s allowed to show affection and be close to you for no particular reason, he won’t stop - it’s as if he absolutely has to be holding your hand or be standing or sitting  as close to you as physically possible. he’s always buying you souvenirs at every place you stop by, scaling trees to pick apples for you when you mention a craving for fruit, presenting you little treasures that he’s found with all the pride of a golden retriever.

lumine is a more subdued kind of partner, preferring to demonstrate her feelings with little things like making your favourite food for dinner or bringing you sprigs of flowers that she’s secretly been collecting in order to present you with them. of course, that doesn’t mean she isn’t physically affectionate at all - she presses perhaps even closer to you than aether when you sleep beside her, and somehow her hand finds yours at every opportunity she has.

the twins clash every now and then, as siblings often do, except that you’re usually caught in the middle. their arguments are little more than playful squabbles, though - things like play-fighting over who gets to hug you first after a well-fought battle, or who gets to hold your hand on the way to the next village (you have to step in and remind them that you do, in fact, have two hands)

in conclusion: why choose one when you can have both and prevent the unchosen from having endless amounts of angst?

[hoe-doroki]

passing the night stars

banner by @dymphnasprose​

warning: reader has social anxiety

pairing: shinsou x reader (platonic or romantic)

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

summary: The party was neon and you needed darkness.

a/n: this is a gift for my SiL’s birthday today! To any astronomy nerds: I tried and I’m sorry.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something to be said about distance.

It was a buffer, quieting every voice, external and internal, until the only one left was that of the crickets singing over the lo-fi spilling out of the house behind you. You’d stepped away from the party long enough ago that the playlist had started over many songs back—you had no clue how many anymore. The distance turned the music’s thrumming into a quiet melody, the lyrics just as indistinguishable up close as here in the backyard, sitting on patio furniture that rocked lopsidedly in the grass.

Any filter would do, though. Anything that could soften the world just a little around its loud, coarse edges. The ice in your peach-flavored hurricane melting so that the drink was a little less saccharine. The rum casting a film over your mood, keeping your loneliness from dropping you into total dolor. The slight late-night breeze blowing the smoke from the fire pit away from you so that the acrid smell was stronger on the hood of your black sweatshirt than the air. It all muddled your emotions, numbing the buzzing overwhelm of the party to an anxious hum. The party had been neon, and out here you had a bit more darkness.

Without these buffers absorbing some of the furor, you might have escaped the party hours ago. Snuck out while the thing was still in full thrall, before social anxiety could hiss over your bones. Got out while you were ahead. Instead, you’d lasted as long as you could before out to the backyard with the near-dead fire, wracked with guilt at the prospect of leaving without saying goodbye, while too nervous to actually draw the attention to yourself necessary to actually say goodbye.

That wasn’t to say you hadn’t held up for a good while, though. You’d hung out with your friends when the fire had just gotten started and then when the party had moved indoors for drinking games and edibles. You’d hovered on the border as your friends grew more interested in dancing in drunken delay to the somniferous lo-fi beat than conversation. Then the itching had started in your brain, and before you knew it, you were out here, social battery drained dry, waiting for an indefinite future in which you could find the energy to escape.

You shivered as footsteps swiped through the grass, crickets chirping at the intruder.

“Did I surprise you?” Shinsou asked, his voice deep from booze or smoke or both. Or, maybe he was just tired, you figured, as the harsh light of the fire sharpened the bags under his eyes into dark creases.

“Breeze,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising on your wrists, standing the fine hairs on end. Only a few licks of heat from the pit were touching your knees, leaving the rest of you cold in your threadbare sweatshirt as the fire shrank smaller and smaller.

Shinsou had a blanket in his arms, ratty and certainly stolen from the back of the living room couch. He blinked at you for a second before he asked, “Can I join you?��

His voice was deadpan. Between the two of you, there was no real vocal inflection to speak of. Still, you shrugged one shoulder and said, “Sure.”

You stiffened when, instead of choosing one of the many other patio chairs or foldable camping chairs forming a friendly circle around the fire, he joined you on your bench, tossing a bit of blanket over your knees. You hardly realized you were staring at him until he said, “You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah, a little,” you said, tucking your knees up to your chin and curling the scrap of blanket around your arms.

The blanket was raggedy in your hands, pilled on the hem, but warm from being indoors with all the dancing bodies. Plus, clinging onto it, running your thumb over the uneven texture gave you something to focus on instead of Shinsou’s body so close to yours.

Your senses were tingling, raw at having someone nearby again. It was too soon—you still didn’t have anything to say, no defense for why you’d dropped off from the party without a word.

But, on the other hand, being alone wasn’t fixing you either. Parts of your brain were still coiled taut as compression springs, and while they weren’t getting any tighter, they weren’t quite loosening yet either. It was rest, not recovery.

Abruptly—was it abrupt, or were you that zoned out?—Shinsou touched the back of his hand to yours, nearly making you flinch as he furrowed his brows at you. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, shifting towards you and pushing more of the blanket into your lap.

“Oh, um—” maybe a half an hour, maybe more, “—not that long.”

For that flash of contact, his skin had been hot against yours, so you could only imagine how cold your hands had felt to him. Your icy drink was probably mostly to blame, but you were also suddenly aware of how your shoulders were hunched nearly to your ears, your arms clenched to your sides like your chest might warm them. You piled the blanket a little more over your knees and one shoulder, only the hand holding your drink poking out.

“Hard being on the fringes,” he mused as he took a sip from a can. Possibly seltzer, probably beer.

You mirrored, tasting your own drink. It was really mostly water by now, though you were sure it was still painting your tongue orange.

Shinsou’s situation wasn’t much different than yours. Everyone in that house was old classmates. Shinsou was too, but he’d come late. Not too late to be friends, but late enough that it mattered. You were even later—not a classmate, but a post-high school roommate. You’d both landed on the side of Kaminari’s friend group, but neither of you were the core of it. The heart of it. That, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, was Bakugou.

For some reason, you and Shinsou had never talked about this before.

“Hard being in a group big enough for there to be a fringe.”

Because, of course, it wasn’t just the Bakusquad here today. The majority of the old 3-A was here, those who weren’t on duty or suffering with early morning duty tomorrow. Enough people to certainly cause a ruckus and maybe a noise complaint that even pro heroes wouldn’t get out of.

“Touché”

The two of you fell into silence, and you couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had drawn Shinsou from the party. Even if he didn’t feel he was the most popular guy in the room, you’d seen the way he had the ability to talk to everyone. You weren’t sure if it was a product of his quirk or what, but he was able to start a conversation with everyone he met. He didn’t seem shy or anxious in the least.

Then again, that was just what he presented. You knew from that what you put forth in public wasn’t necessarily in line with what you were feeling.

It was hard to be the introvert around a group like yours. Worse—it was noticeable. This wasn’t the first time you’d stumbled away from a party, mind half gone not on alcohol or weed but on the sudden assault of attention, loud voices, and talk of hero work. Being one of the only non-heroes in the room was exhausting, and maybe that’s why you’d had to escape. Or maybe there never was a reason, good or otherwise, and you were just here because of your stupid self.

“Clear night,” Shinsou commented, “Don’t get to see much of the stars in the city.”

You looked up, a bright spot in the center of your vision from where you’d been staring into the fire. Almost everyone in your group lived in the city, not too far from each other, depending on your definition of the word. But those with quirks better suited outside the city, like Tsuyu and Koda, had moved out of town post graduation, granting the rest of you access to a night in the suburbs like this.

The truth was, you hardly looked up at the sky in the city. Tourists were always looking up, eyes glinting off the skyscrapers and billboards. But natives were always looking down, too aware of the fact that other natives didn’t always clean up after their dogs and, with so little grass, the sidewalk often needed a close eye kept to it.

But here, it was pretty. Not the smog-stained brown you were used to, but deep blue and twinkling with infinite pinpricks.

“Mm,” you hummed, taking another sip of your watery drink. “You’re right.”

“There’s Cassiopeia,” he said, pointing just over the tree line.

You followed his finger, unsure quite of what you were looking at. The stars hardly looked like clusters to you, especially on a night like this where you could see so many. It was more a broad network of them, either all connected or all individual. All the stars or just a star.

“You know constellations?” you asked, ears latching onto something that finally wasn’t hero related. Truth be told, you probably knew less about stars than you did about hero work but it was less alienating. You could lean into it.

“Some,” he offered. “Cassiopeia is a basic one.”

“Where is it?”

Shinsou glanced at you, leaning in closer so that his finger could match your gaze. You shoulders knocked and you could feel his wild hair against your own. His finger traced down and up, down and up in a cockeyed W. “Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda.”

“She’s a woman?”

It was any wonder that ancient people had looked into the night sky and seen things like rams and bulls, creating a whole woman out of a few diagonal lines. Still, you listened to Shinsou, his low voice rumbling into your tired bones as he began.

“A beautiful woman,” he answered. “In Greek myth, she thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her boastfulness made Poseidon angry, so he created a sea monster that Andromeda was sacrificed to. Andromeda was left to await her fate when Perseus, who had just killed Medusa, used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. After saving Andromeda, the two of them got married, and when they died, they both became constellations alongside Cassiopeia.”

Shinsou’s voice was husky and even as he told the story. The cadences were easy drops, landing you softly before he started up again with his next thought. It was a voice you could be rocked by, a voice you could be held by.

“Do you know where they are too?”

“Just below,” Shinsou said. “Probably come up just in time for the sun to make them invisible.”

“That’s too bad,” you said, curling deeper into the blanket, curling so that on shoulder leaned more onto the bench than the other. You head was almost resting on Shinsou’s shoulder and you could feel his warmth radiating in the cold night. “How do you know all this?”

Shinsou was quiet for a second and your nerves spiked again. You hadn’t even felt them relax, but suddenly your anxiety was scratching again, wondering if you’d misspoke. Or maybe you’d whispered it and he just hadn’t heard you? Before you could decide whether to say it again or apologize, though, he let out a sigh that jostled the blanket.

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” he said by way of explanation.

You cocked your head. Perhaps it was just a good hobby for an insomniac, but you were unsure about the evasiveness. “Did you have to learn a lot for general studies? Or to get in to U.A.?”

“…Yeah.”

You could only imagine. U.A. was an incredibly competitive school for heroes, but that was a specialized course. For general studies you didn’t need to have the physical prowess or the other particular skills that came with heroics, but you had to be an ace in school. It was no small feat to get into general studies, especially while you were trying to pursue something else. You were satisfied with that, ready to let it go and return to the near silence of the crickets and the fire popping, when Shinsou suddenly continued.

“When it looked like my plans to become a hero wouldn’t pan out,” Shinsou began, his words slow, tired, “my parents encouraged me into any and all other interests. None stuck.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, the personal admission taking you aback.

For all the times you’d seen Shinsou talk effortlessly with people in a room, you weren’t sure how personal or vulnerable you’d ever seen him. He seemed comfortable enough probing other people, but this was new. It made the space between you suddenly seem private—so different from the party you’d escaped from. You could still hear the ambient noises of a couple dozen people in there having a good time, but it was suddenly a world away.

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” you said, brows furrowing as you glanced his eyes, still gazing up at the stars. His parents had probably thought they were being supportive, but it wasn’t the support he’d desired.

“It is what it is,” he said. “It worked out in the end.”

There was the smallest smile on his face at that, barely betraying what must have been true joy at having a dream slip through his fingers only to fly back to him. And he’d earned every bit of it, even if he wanted to keep it to himself.

“So now,” you began softly, “you just have a lot of little things that you can offer people. The little things you could have been. That’s not so bad, right?”

“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed. “I always liked that story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Japanese astronomy varies so much from region to region and is usually about more functional things. Harvest, seasons. But these other myths about people with no chance of being heroes becoming ones anyway…”

He trailed off, but the sentiment was there. Trapped in the things he’d done to try and leave heroism behind were little vestiges. The inescapable fact that he was meant to be a hero and would be one anyway, even if the world told him he was a villain, doomed for failure.

The stories had been true.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, surprising you.

“Feeling better?”

“You’d been out here for over an hour,” Shinsou stated. “Your eyes were glassy and distant and you were freezing and you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh,” you intoned. You hadn’t realized it had been that long. You were sure it had only been half that time.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said truthfully. “I’m fine now.”

The anxiety from earlier that had been buzzing through you had kept you awake, all while thoroughly draining you. You’d hardly realized just how much until now, with your body not just feeling settled but heavy. The stress had run straight through you, and now you bore the fatigue.

Shinsou glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. His brows raised and it lifted his whole face, making the dark circles under his eyes just a little less stark. “You look exhausted.”

“You always look exhausted,” you retorted, your first little grin curving along your lips.

In his surprise, Shinsou smiled too. “I know that. Here.”

Shinsou took your forgotten drink from your hand and set it down, then patted his shoulder.

“You should rest for a little while.”

Your eyes met his, searching for anything that looked like obligation or impatience. But there was none. Just a surprising amount of openness and a pretty shade of purple.

“Do you have more myths?”

Shinsou smiled and, once again, his gaze went up to the stars. As he started another tale, you snuggled onto his shoulder, the rest of your body drawing closer to his as well. He didn’t wait long to begin speaking, talking in more detail than he had before. There was no reason to be concerned that he might be boring you, or that you didn’t want to hear it. Really, these stories, these stars that had brought him even the tiniest speck of light were just what you needed too.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, and you weren’t sure when you woke up. But when you blinked your eyes awake, the first thing you noticed was that Cassiopeia hadn’t moved far. The second was the feeling of Shinsou’s head tilted against yours, his breath like gentle waves under you.

You shifted, signaling that you were awake, and Shinsou did too, his head lifting from yours. At some point, his arm had wrapped around you, encasing you in his warmth. He didn’t move it, not yet, as your body creaked and you forced yourself to sit up.

“How long?” you murmured, voice barely raspy with sleep.

“Not that long,” Shinsou answered, echoing your reply from earlier.

He didn’t look at his phone or a watch, and hadn’t since he’d come out, so you wondered if he had any clue. Or if it simply hadn’t felt long. Somehow, the idea that his time spent with you hadn’t felt long was a comfort, a relief.

“How are you feeling?”

You checked in, feeling that grogginess that always came in the wake of an intense mental episode. Your brain struggling to catch up and survey the backlash from its earlier antics. That would go away. It always did. “I’m good.”

Shinsou continued to look at you, switching between each eye, double checking your expression for any lie. But he must not have found any, for he leaned back into the bench and relaxed, that tiny ghost of a smile back on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, gazing out again. “You out here alone before? It had been…well, we were…I wanted to check on you.”

For the first time, Shinsou looked almost a little shy, and you couldn’t help but smile, touched. You put a hand on the shoulder that had just taken your weight and brought his gaze back to you. “Thank you.”

There actually was one thing you knew about stars. You’d heard that every light year a star was away from you was a year into the past you were seeing its light. Looking at the stars was looking millions of years into the past. Despite the fact that these selfsame stars connected you to humans around the world today and those of old, that filter of distance and time rendered them ancient, if not already gone.

But as you looked at Shinsou, their soft, silvery starlight illuminating one side while the last dancing coals of the fire glowed on the other, you were sure that this was the opposite. This wasn’t old or past or known to anyone but the two of you. This wasn’t the stars or even the stories inspired by them.

This was just beginning.

[nestable]

BRING IT ON HOME NESSIAN ONESHOT

Bring it on Home to me by Sam Cooke is on of my favorite songs in the word and I highly recommend you go have a listen if you havent heard it, I promise you wont regret it. I was listening to it the other day and instantly thought of how these lyrics resonated with nessian, cassian more especially and couldn't resist writing this fic. Just a little soft, SFW, domestic Nessian. 🥺😭

"Nes." Cassian groaned as he rolled closer to her side of the bed. "Nesta?"

After being met with stark silence, Cassian outstretched his hand only for it to collapse onto cold sheets.

No Nesta, he realized with a start.

Though he and his Nesta have been mated for some months now, all of which have been without an incident, he can't help but worry.

Each night he reassures himself with the knowledge of their bond, the heat of her body pressed against his own, the words of love and loyalty she ensures he hears everyday, that she is safe and finally happy.

Not miserable and balancing on the cusp of oblivion where he found her last year. Juggling between drowning her sorrows and indulging in sub-par sex just to feel something, just to deny the connection they share because she felt that she wasnt worthy of him. No, that was all over now, but he can't help when the memories resurface.

The memory of Nesta writhing and arched in her bed as silver flames wreathed her body like a shroud. The screams of pain and anguish that left her lips only to be swallowed by starless night and Deaths flames. How the very mountain trembled beneath their feet, bracing itself for the potential explotion that Cassian could sense building up. Somehow he knew that Velaris would've been crumpled to dust that night and become a fond memory. He felt it in his gut. Just the same way he felt her night terrors take hold of her for her powers to bask in centre stage. And in the same breath, he also felt that he could stop it. Whether that was pure male arrogance or the suspicion of the bond that lay between them, that was yet to be found. And it was...the moment her powers seized in intensity when he said her name. Once, twice, just enough for Rhys to gain control and save them all.

No, he would never forget that and he'd be damned if it were to happen again and catch him in a helpless position as the first time he witnessed the extent of her power. A power that mostly returned back to the Cauldron, only to be replaced by 3 Dread troves and the Mothers favour. A different sort of threat perhaps. One sweeter, kinder, even benign from what he's witnessed.

Nesta barely speaks about the power the same way she did with her Cauldron gifts. She reassures him that these were different, these she understands and smiled every time he enquired about her connection with the Mother. He wishes to know more, his body yearns for it, but his mate has always loved surprises.

Cassian threw on a pair of his undershorts before leaving his and Nestas new room. Though the House of Wind has become their shared abode, its ill advised to walk around naked with the possibility of Azriel becoming an unwilling spectator with his prowling around the halls in the dead of night like he's been doing for the past year.

Cassian loves his brother, sometimes more than kin normally do, he believes sometimes, but he'll never forgive him for that night he ruined his birthday night when he walked in on Nesta modelling her new negligee in the library. He's never jumped from one intense emotion to another so quickly. Blinded by the red lace of her silk garments only to see red of a different kind when the blue of Azriels siphon opened the door.

The territorial male part of him nearly took over that night and he was inclined to let it ride him had Nesta not winnowed them to their room and pushed him onto the bed. The anger, the curiosity he had as to how Nesta was able to winnow around the House when no one else could were obscured then turned insignificant by the view of Nesta sitting astride on his thighs.

Cassian followed the music swimming through the hall which brought him to a new lounge area that didn't present itself in the centuries that he's been living here until Nesta inherited the place.

Many new things have made their presence known and sprung to life since Nestas made the House her home. Hidden rooms have materialized, troves have opened and a gorgeous garden has flourished on the top of the mountain. As if in preparation of someone, or little someone's who might need it.

Cassian isn't blind to the fact that the House makes things available according to Nestas hopes, dreams and wishes. All of which make Cassian excited for the future and a forever with his mate even more.

Nesta was leaning against the cream white wall that she and Cassian painted just last night, holding an A2 canvas painting in both hands. He couldn't decipher her facial expression or read some of the wild thoughts that were evidently bouncing around her head as Nesta was inclined to raising her mental walls to him when she was stressed. He'd once asked why and she told him that she didnt want to plague him with her problems. Didnt want to bother him. Little did she know that Cassian was built for her, problems and all. Nothing about Nesta could bother him. Not even the parts that bothered her.

"Hi." He whispered which startled Nesta before she composed herself. For her to be so drawn into her thoughts that she didnt notice him approaching, instantly put him on edge him.

"Hi." She said, plastering a lazy smile onto her face.

Cassian took that as an invitation to enter. His eyes swept across the room, taking in the organized clutter. From the closed boxes filling the lounge, the half hung snow white gossamer curtains blowing in from the open balcony, to the slightly dusty white marble tiles that were installed just last week.

Cassian was a bit skeptical when Nesta told him of her plans to decorate this room in all white. White cushions, white couches, white walls, white flower arrangements, white chandeliers and white fur carpets felt like a fever dream to Cassian, but now that it's all coming to life, he can see the vision of beauty that Nesta had in mind. A vision not only limited to this lounge but the entire House of Wind that Nesta will decorate herself with the input of the House itself to revitalize the place. All of which will be paid for by Rhys.

How the Cauldron matched him to such a female, not mere female but god, he'll never know. All he can do is be grateful and work to be worthy and deserve the gift to draw breath in her presence.

Now that Nestas accepted her Human emissary role and is the courts newly appointed courtier, she's recieving the same fat salary like the rest of the IC, but Cassian doubts that Rhysand will ever let Nesta access her funds because he insists on paying for everything for her. Which goes to show that Rhys' gratitude for Nesta runs very far. Or guilt, or both.

What Nesta did for Feyre, Nyx and Rhys was something that couldnt be described with words. She saved their lives and in doing so the entire court. Rhys failed to tell his family about him and Feyres decision and never left a plan of action to follow after his death. Had he died, the role of High Lord could've fallen to anyone. Probably Keir or one of Mors detestable brothers because they are Rhys closest male blood relatives. What they would've done to Velaris, done to the entire court....Cassian seldom contemplates that. Nestas sacrifice and mercy saved them all and in doing so, opened herself to a higher form of being that is yet to be seen.

"What are you doing up so late?"

"I had a lot on my mind. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come and get this room in order." She explained, flipping her golden brown hair over her shoulder.

"What's been on your mind?" Cassian asked casually, taking a step closer.

He'd have embraced her and held her against his chest if it weren't for the massive painting in her hands. A painting that he can feel is the source of all her trepidation.

Nesta bit her lip before turning the canvas toward him and placing it in his hands. "Feyre finally finished that and it was delivered yesterday afternoon. I was too afraid to open it then- but I figured that I wouldn't be able to sleep until I saw it."

At first glance, anyone would assume that the muse was Nesta. From the steel eyes to the clear skin and poise in the pose. But upon further inspection, the age of the woman, the beauty spot beneath her right eye and slight darker tresses reveals the truth.

"This is your mother..." Cassian said lowly. The weight of the image, not the canvas itself but the obvious memories, pain and loss the painting held settled on him.

"Was." She uttered a bit sharply. Her throat bobbing up and down.

Cassians eyes darted between Nesta and the painting. Surprise and admiration pouring into him in droves. Her sisters did mention more than once that Nesta is their mothers spitting image, but this...it was as though the same person had been born twice.

"You stole her whole face." He chuckled, bringing a sweet curve to Nestas lip.

"I know...I know." She shrugged.

Cassian lay the painting carefully against the wall then wrapped his arms around his mates shoulders. Her own found their home around his waist as she rested her chin atop his chest so that their eyes could meet.

If it were a few months ago, a year, she would've furiously blinked away the tears that have settled in her eyes, or rejected their proximity entirely. Only to retain a semblance of control that shes strived so hard to maintain. But now shes opened herself to him entirely. Made him a part of both her happiness and pain, loss and gain, victories and failure. Just as their mating vows ordered.

"Talk to me." He whispered, dragging his fingers through her hair.

"I- I just...I know that my mother was not the best of mothers, nor did she love us in the ways that a mother should but....but that doesn't make me love her any less. She might've trained me instead of raised me, saw me as a ticket to wealth and leisure or lived vicariously through me but she was still my mother." Her tears fell down her cheeks as if a damn had been broken. "There were good moments as well as bad and I'm not going to pretend that she was never loving or good to me. Elain and Feyre might've forgotten her, but I can't... I wont."

Cassian lowered his head to press soft kisses to her cheeks where her tears left stains. "I know." He murmured. "You dont share the same memories as Elain and Feyre, it's only natural that you saw her much differently and remember her in a better light than they do." He rubbed feather light circles on the back of her neck in an attempt to assuage her from her pain.

"It broke my heart when I walked through Feyres house that day and didn't see a piece of myself or her. It felt like I was being erased, forgotten. Now I've found my place in that hall but she hasn't. I couldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't let her be erased just like that."

"And she wont be, not if you will it. I'll remember her with you." Cassians lips found Nestas and before they knew it, the couple found themselves descending into a deep kiss that only a mating bond could conjure.

"You know that's one of the reasons I love you?" He stated, to which Nesta replied with a raised brow. "Your compassion, your massive heart, your loyalty... these are all qualities that you motivate me to pursue everyday. You've kept your soft side hidden for a long time and now we're starting to see it." She smiled. By far the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. "That sweet love. Just bring it on home to me."

A giggle was shared between them as soon as the words left his mouth. The lyrics of a song, their song, that came on the day of their mating ceremony that they had on repeat for 2 hours straight. Cassian had never heard a song that spoke to him and his experience with love the way that one did. One that Nesta knew would speak to his very marrow and chose not to warn him in advance, only to see his reaction.

"You're insufferable." She said, only to hug him tighter and lay her head on his chest.

"Well then you're going to have to get used to it, Nes. We only have forever left together."

Just when Cassian expected Nesta to respond, the soft melody of a piano begun in the corner of the room from Nesta symphoniam, followed by the ever true lyrics that might've been written for them, that might as well have been their wedding and mating vows.

If you ever change your mind

About leaving, leaving me behind

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Nesta begun the dance. Cassian followed with no hesitation. Though it was a far cry from the pulsating waltz they'd done in Hewn city or other court events thereafter. It was far more intimate, passionate. Just a sway of the hips and foot movements that reforged and strengthened the golden bond that surged through them on Winter Solstice and polished it to a shimmer. Their bond was not a mere tether, not a chain. It was a rainbow. Shimmering through storms and sunny days. It didnt only make its presence known or surge when they were in the throes of passion, it became more sentient when they were upset with each other. It was the musical and colourful road that led mate back to mate. Self back to self.

I know I laughed when you left

But now I know I only hurt myself

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

His heart cracked at the words and the truth they carry. The memories when they were so at odds with each other that they could barely be in the same room longer than necessary. The nights when he thought the immense sadness and grief at the prospect of losing her entirely would drown him and suffocate him. When he wished that he could rip his heart out of his chest only to get a reprieve from his anguish. Anguish he attempted to expunge with throwing himself into work and training only to realize that the further they moved from one another, the further they moved from themselves.

As if Nesta could hear and feel those memories, she held onto him tighter. This female, his tether to reality, his anchor, the tree that was able to weather a thunderstorm that left the land decimated only to come back and continue to grow with fruits and flowers on display for all to see.

I'll give you jewellery and money, too

That ain't all, that ain't all I'll do for you

Oh, if you bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian knew that from the moment he met Nesta, there was nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for her. Nothing too out of reach that if she should request, he would give. He was already hers in mind, body and soul. Their bond might've snapped into being after she emerged from the cauldeon, but the draw he felt toward her was infinite. Like their souls were made from the same essence but placed on earth in different time periods so that they know life without the other, to appreciate being together more.

You know I'll always be your slave

'Til I'm buried, buried in my grave

Oh honey, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian held up Nestas hand so that he may look upon the wedding and mating band. She requested that she have both and went to the best jeweler in Velaris to fuse both choices so that they sit as one on her finger. Both were made of rose gold, the slimmer wedding ring was imbued with three tanzanite diamonds and the larger mating band sports just one giant diamond that would need it's own security team. Cassian knew his mate loved nice things and made him pay a pretty penny to get it. He'd do again if only to see the stars that twinkled in her eyes when they chose the bands at the jeweler.

He looked at his own jeweled finger. A simple silver band that stood out more than he expected it to. He wanted to get black carbon fiber but Nesta threatened not to speak to him again if he had. Now he can't stop looking at it. He loves how it makes an appearance even though he's bedecked in full illyrian armour. He'll never forget the swell of pride he felt when his soldiers eyes zoned in on the piece of metal that could've easily been obscured by the red siphon that rests atop his hand, but chose to stand out and make its presence known. A symbol of his immature bachelorhood dead and gone, giving life to a new stage in his life. A stage he's waited for longer than he cares to admit.

He remembers using the word 'shackled' when describing his mating bond with Nesta when he was upset with her, but now that word seems appropriate. If the pieces of metal sitting on their matching fingers are the shackles of which he spoke, then he'd wear his shackles with pride.

One more thing

I tried to treat you right

But you stayed out, stayed out at night

But I forgive you, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian rarely thinks about the time they spent apart. When resentment, self punishment and grief pulled them apart only because those memories are nothing in comparison to the centuries he spent without her.

Living life believing the words of the ignorant and seeing oneself as a inferior and undeserving of the love that he relishes in now. The love that has somehow wiped away centuries of self hate and lack of self awareness. He figures that the reason why he used to be the first to throw himself into deadly missions were all desperate plea to prove himself, to put it into stone that he isn't a mere worthless bastard but is someone worthy of respect. But now his outlook has completely shifted. He is no longer living only for himself, but for another. He remembers the blind terror he felt when he thought that Nesta was swallowed by the black water in the Bog, or how she screamed when she thought that she lost him on Mount Ramiel.

He doesnt want either of them to go through that again. To be without the other. To feel that their very heart was ripped out of their chest, when both had taken permanent residence in the other.

He saw how Feyre reacted when Rhys died, and heard when Rhys screamed when Feyre was on deaths doorstop. The mere thought of Nesta experiencing that pain or him has softened his daring heart.

He will live, he will love and he will do it with Nesta in his arms.

As the song drew to a close, Nesta shifted from her position on his chest, too look upon him again. She brought her slim fingers to his cheeks and smiled. "Forever."

He could offer nothing but the same. A truth that had been both a promise and a prayer from the moment they met, "Forever."

Tag: @bakingandbooks3 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @arinbelle @silvernesta @darklobe @haepaw @carlieg20 @illyrianshadowhunter

[mytardisisparked]

When Sunrise Comes Early: Chapter 2

Obi-Wan didn’t really remember igniting his lightsaber and jumping into the fray, but he must have, otherwise he would not currently be Force-pinned against the wall by a Sith Lord.

The other Jedi were in similar positions around the room, save for Yaddle, who was still unconscious. When the Jedi had finally overwhelmed the Sith, he had thrown them all back, holding them with such a power that not even Yoda was able to work his way out of the Dark Lord’s grasp.

Obi-Wan gasped for air as the Sith squeezed their diaphragms harder, like an invisible snake constricting it’s prey. 

How on earth can someone be so powerful? Obi-Wan thought, even as his mind grew hazy.

The dark figure cackled. “Incredible. Who would have thought that crushing the Jedi Order would have been so literal?” 

Obi-Wan could hardly see now, what with all of the spots swimming around his vision. Somewhere, so distant, he thought he heard Mace say something, but it hardly mattered now. The Sith had been too powerful for them to defeat and Obi-Wan was just... so... tired...

Suddenly, a voice broke through, shocking Obi-Wan into full consciousness.

“Master?”

With some difficulty, Obi-Wan raised his head and looked toward the entrance of the council chambers where Anakin stood, utterly shocked, as he took in the scene.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan wheezed, “run!”

But Anakin didn’t listen, he rarely ever did. He swiveled his gaze to the dark figure at the center of the room, fury blazing in his eyes. “HEY!”

The dark hood rustled as the Sith turned to look at the young boy, snickering. The mouth that was just visible under the cloak opened to speak, but he never got a chance to talk; Obi-Wan watched in surprise as Anakin thrust his hands out in front of him, throwing the cloaked man to the ground.

In that split second of the Sith’s confusion, he relinquished his grip on the Jedi masters and they sprang into action, pinning him to the ground. Underneath the pressure of their hands and the Force, he snarled wildly.

Mace Wind squatted by the dark figure’s head and pulled the hood of his cloak back.

Obi-Wan wished he could have been surprised to see the face of former Chancellor Palpatine underneath, but, in truth, he had never trusted the man and, after his recent actions, it made sense. The only thing Obi-Wan could feel was a growing sense of horror at how close to his padawan the Sith Lord had come. The intent behind his actions was now terrifyingly clear - he planned to turn Anakin Skywalker to the dark side.

Obi-Wan walked over to his padawan and pulled him into a hug, carefully keeping himself between Palpatine and Anakin.

“Mr. Palpatine, didn’t we just drop you off at your apartment?” Mace said, looking over the face of the Sith without much expression. 

“Foolish child!” Palpatine directed his attention to Anakin, who was now peeking out from behind Obi-Wan’s back. “I could have saved her! I could have saved your mother!”

Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s grip tighten on his robes.

Mace gave Palpatine a disgusted look. “Lets get him into a prison cell with Force-binders and inform the Senate of what’s transpired here.”

Palpatine went utterly still and strangely quiet as the Jedi hauled him out of the council chambers. As they left the room, he looked over his shoulder at Anakin and Obi-Wan and gave a low laugh that set Obi-Wan’s hair on end.

“Foolish. Both of you.” His eyes met Obi-Wan’s. “I could save him, you know. I could bring him back.”

An image flashed through Obi-Wan’s mind, for just a moment, of a very tall man with kind eyes and a warm smile who was looking fondly upon a small boy at his side, ruffling his auburn hair.

The Jedi pulled Palpatine out of the doorway and the vision ended, leaving Obi-Wan feeling terribly cold.

Mace kneeled next to Yaddle. “She’s alive, but she will need a healer.” He spoke quietly into his comm link, calling one up.

Obi-Wan glanced down at Anakin, who was huddled by his side.

“Obi-Wan.” Mace drew his gaze away from the boy. “Why don’t you take a moment with your padawan and then come find me in the garden.” He glanced down at the boy, looking a bit concerned. “I think we have a few things to discuss.”

Obi-Wan nodded and placed a gentle hand on Anakin’s back. “Come along, lets get you to bed.”

Both of them were quiet on the walk back to Anakin’s room, but the emotions rolling off of Anakin in the Force told Obi-Wan enough. Fear, guilt, and just a tiny seed of anger - Anakin’s thoughts were of his mother.

Obi-Wan ushered the boy inside and directed him to sit on his meditation mat. The Jedi settled himself across from him, folding his legs neatly.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke quietly, “thank you for helping tonight. You did well.”

Anakin’s eyes flashed up to his master’s, surprised. “You aren’t mad?”

“Why would I be mad? You saved my life.” Obi-Wan smiled.

“But I-” Anakin looked away. “I got angry. I’m still angry. He hurt Jedi and he had the nerve to bring up my mom-”

Obi-Wan stopped him with a gentle look. “It’s alright to get angry; what really matters is what you do with your anger. The moment has passed and Palpatine is in custody.” He rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You can let those feelings go now.”

Anakin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. He reopened them after a moment and looked at Obi-Wan. “I’m still kinda angry.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “I know. Let’s go get something from the kitchens and see if that helps.”

With a shining grin and a bit of a skip in his step, Anakin leapt up and darted out the door, Obi-Wan following closely behind with a laugh.

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

Having gotten his padawan a snack and successfully convincing him to go to sleep, Obi-Wan trudged up the stairs toward the garden where Mace was already waiting.

“How is he?”

“He was upset, but we worked on letting emotions go a bit and I think he will be alright in the morning,” Obi-Wan sighed.

Mace nodded and began walking, motioning for Obi-Wan to follow.

“I’ve been thinking about Anakin’s mother lately.” The older Jedi looked contemplatively up at the night sky. “Does he still ask about her?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Sometimes, but not often. He mostly tells stories about things they used to do when he was younger.” He bit his lip. “I do believe he thinks of her more than he lets on, though. I can often sense her in his thoughts during meditation and when he dreams.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Why do you ask?”

“I think it might be of some benefit to young Skywalker if we found a way to free his mother.”

The younger Jedi’s eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing, waiting for Mace to go on.

“You’ve mentioned on more than one occasion that he struggles with balancing his emotions. He harbors fear and anger deep inside. I believe that the knowledge that his mother is free would ease his mind a great deal and help open him up more to his training.” He folded his arms against the night’s chilly air. “There are a lot of logistical issues that we would need to work out, of course. Namely, how we would free her since the Republic, and therefore, the Jedi, cannot directly interfere. We would also need to figure out where she could live. I don’t think she should live too close by since that might distract Anakin and encourage too much attachment.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “But these are all things we can work out as we go. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

Obi-Wan was stunned. Mace didn’t usually show this much individual care for any of the Jedi, let alone the young padawan he continued to remind everyone he didn’t trust. 

“I think this is an excellent idea.” Obi-Wan swallowed and smiled.��“Anakin is a very caring person; knowing that his mother is free and cared for would, I believe, ease his sense of duty to her and allow him to focus more in his studies.”

“Excellent.” Mace smiled, the first true smile Obi-Wan had ever seen cross his face. “Lets keep this quiet for now, but we should start work right away. With the Senate focused on the case of Palpatine and his Sith affiliation, it will be easy to work on planning and executing a way to free Shmi Skywalker without interference.”

Obi-Wan’s face darkened for a moment. “What do you think will happen with Palpatine?”

Mace stopped walking and sat down on a bench along the path, suddenly looking ten years older. “I don’t quite know. The Senate will either vote to imprison or execute him. I’m not entirely certain how imprisonment will work; we don’t have the technology to hold a powerful Sith lord for an extended period of time.” He sighed. “That being said, I’m not fond of the idea of executing an unarmed man either, Sith or not. The public might feel the same way. Even if we tell them Palpatine is a Sith, they likely won’t understand the magnitude of that term; they have only ever seen him do good things for the Republic, save, of course, for his indiscretion with your padawan.”

“It is a predicament.” Obi-Wan settled on the bench next to him. They were quiet for a moment as Obi-Wan thought, an idea forming in his mind. “Master, do you remember the year-long mission I had with Master Jinn? The one where we were charged with protecting the Duchess of Mandalore?”

Mace raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” 

“Well, during that year, the Duchess would often share stories of when the Mandalorians fought the Jedi. She told me once that they used to have some sort of prison cell that rendered Jedi incapable of accessing the Force and utlizing it in any way.” Obi-Wan ran a hand over his beard. “Sa- the duchess mentioned that, when she regained her throne, she planned to destroy the devices, but it might be worth asking if there are any still in existence. Or, if they are gone, we might be able to find the schematics to build one to hold Palpatine.”

Mace was quiet - Obi-Wan could practically hear the wheels of his mind spinning. 

“That might be a possibility. I’d say its worth looking into. Are you still connected with the duchess?”

“I- ah, I haven’t spoken to her since that mission, but we were close for the duration of that year.” Obi-Wan thanked the moon for being waned enough to not reveal the flush of red he knew was creeping up his neck.

“Good. We will send you and your padawan to Mandalore to speak with Duchess Satine about the possibility of using one of Mandalore’s Force-suppressing prisons.” Mace stood. “We will need access to the device as soon as possible if we are to suggest it as a possibility to the Senate, so you will need to leave tomorrow morning.” He turned and gave Obi-Wan a softer look. “Once you return, we can continue to discuss the situation with Shmi Skywalker.”

He wished Obi-Wan a good night and left the young Jedi, stunned, on the garden bench.

Mandalore?

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his ginger locks. 

Satine.

He felt his heart start to pick up speed and tried to channel the calm energy of the Force to slow it back down. There was absolutely no need to panic. Sure, he hadn’t seen Satine since he was 19 and there had been some lingering resentment between them for a variety of reasons, but she would certainly be able to function like a professional adult, and so could he. 

And yet, as Obi-Wan looked up at the great expanse of stars and planets above the gardens, he had the nagging sense that he was already in over his head.

--------

Hey everyone! Thank you all so much for the support you showed on Chapter 1 of When Sunrise Comes Early. Seriously, It means more than I can express. I apologize that it has taken some time for me to release the second chapter, but I was struggling to figure out exactly what I wanted to happen next (and also I had final exams so that was a fun interlude in my life yee yee). I have a solid plan now though, and I’m excited to share it with you guys!

BTW- I originally published the first chapter to say that Anakin was 16, but I made an edit and changed his age to 14 because it felt better. Just wanted to clear that up.

[beastlywritings]

Beginnings

Pairing: Eskel/OC (Lae’elan) AFAB NB (but gender doesn’t come into it until later)

Summary: Eskel comes across a shapeshifter (Or she comes across him) and they make nice. 

Rating for this chapter: PG-13 for sexual innuendo and suggested sexual acts, as well as talk of masturbation

TW (this chapter): stalking (kind of), manipulation, injuring another on purpose, mention of dissociation and the feeling of it, mentions of orphanage, mention of lost love, selfconsciousness about scars and appearance, gratuitous use of italics for thoughts

AN: Unbeta-ed. If you wanna beta just ask lol (help me). If you wanna gimme some concrit, I’d be grateful; this is my first time posting fic in years and I’m rusty as hell. Gonna be a long fic.

This chapter is mostly just intro to Lan, who is quite literally me if my kintype was a reality. She comes with much of my baggage and personality.

From her perch in the tree opposite the witcher, the apparent chickadee watched the man as he went about building his fire, placing each branch and split wood neatly and setting it ablaze with a quick hand motion. She’d followed him all day, in various forms, from the moment she’d spotted his cat-like amber eyes across the market. A witcher could have access to information she didn’t. A chance to finally find out what she was. Following him had been easy for her. No one expects a quiet but friendly dog, a flighty squirrel, or a singing songbird of malice, not even a witcher; and no one expects all those creatures to be one and the same. And, she knew from past experience, her powers only set off their medallions if she touched them while shifting. So reconnaissance? Recon was child’s play. 

She worked through the questions that mattered. 

What school is he from? Cats and vipers were dangerous, both schools cut-throat havens, less likely to help a sentient magical creature and more likely to kill first and ask questions later at the first signs of non-human traits. Wolves and griffins tended to be more code-bound and willing to listen. Her eyes narrowed in on his chest. She was in luck-- a wolf medallion peeked out of the collar of his open gambeson, laying on the cream of his shirt. I won’t even have to bother with proper manners, she thought to herself, remembering the last time she’d dealt with a witcher from the school of the griffin. 

What’s his personality; which method would work best to get what she wanted? She knew that Kaer Morhen had been sacked, had heard rumors of who and when, even out in the wilderness. But surely some books had survived. She hadn’t been successful in gaining entry to the keep proper in her youth, but this could be her second chance. What sequence of events would more likely get her invited to Kaer Morhen and access to the library there? 

The man seemed soft spoken; his voice could easily be a booming baritone, but he kept his voice quiet and calm to not spook the women in the town square. He was kind and friendly and polite, even smiling and saying ‘thank you,’ when he bought supplies in the open market. He tried to be as non-threatening as possible, as well, trying to make himself less of an obstruction in the throngs of people in town and pulling his large arms to himself instead of letting them hang loosely by his sides. He’d even stooped to help a woman pick up her fallen goods, though it had gotten him a scowl and a barked ‘hands off!’ Perhaps a spot of friendliness to warm him up to her, break down the walls that no doubt he had constructed over the years, then switch to some seduction. 

Her eyes roamed over him, eyeing up the deep facial scars, the bit of white tooth visible where the scar tissue pulled (adorable); to his strong forearms of corded muscle, bare to the elbow with veins snaking along his golden skin; up to his silky, dark hair that ruffled in the breeze; and finally to the crotch of his pants, where there were little red bows keeping a codpiece in place. Seducing him,  she thought to herself with a purr, poofing up her feathers and preening them some, would be no hardship. A handsome lay and the knowledge she’d been seeking since she was young? No better deal would ever come her way. Just keep the long game in mind, Lae’elan, and this could be it. Finally feeling she had enough information and having made up her mind, Lae’elan fluttered down to land quietly among the leaf litter behind the tree the witcher sat propped up against, her tiny feet making a bit of a ruckus. Muscles popping and bones creaking, she shifted into her true form. Or, well, most of it. She’d need to know him a bit better before she deigned to show him her wings. She pulled clothes out of the ether of her pocket dimension and over her head with less than half a thought. Vulpine legs peeked out beneath a woad-blue dress, as did her long succubus-like tail. Before she’d even taken a full step to the side, she heard the witcher reaching for his swords and decided she’d best show herself before he put one of them through her. Just because it wouldn’t kill her didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

“That spot taken?” Lae’elan asked as she rounded the tree, her hands visible in the air beside her head, one clawed finger pointing to the space on the other side of the fire. There was indeed a sword leveled at her, a cross witcher standing at the other end. She hadn’t even registered the sounds of him getting up. Looking down at the sword, she found he got more interesting. Steel. He assumed human or common beast. Huh.

“How did you-!” His eyes darted around behind her for a flash second. 

“Sneak up? Shapeshifter. I was a bird a few minutes ago,” she said breezily, even pointing to the branch she’d been perched upon. Smartly, he did not look. Well trained. Eyeing the blade poised at her neck, she continued, “Could you put the blade away from my neck? Don’t need you to put it away, just… preferably not immediately pointed at my jugular would be lovely,” She smiled kindly. 

He eyed her warily, but lowered the blade a fraction. This close she realized his eyes were actually just a shade or two deeper than her own. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. He seemed to not hate what he saw because the sword lowered another few inches. 

“Just want to sit, maybe chat.”

His eyes narrowed warily and his gaze wandered over her. The horns atop her head, the long ears, her golden eyes, sharp canid-like teeth, fingers ending in curved claws instead of human fingernails. The gears working in his head, trying to make sense of what she was, were visible in his expression. Wouldn’t we all like to know, she thought. 

“Why?” he asked, finally.

“Why wha-at?” 

“Why chat,” he buried the tip of his sword in the dirt, acquiescing, and sat. She stepped around the fire and settled herself on the other side.

“Why does anyone chat?” She asked, but quickly followed, “Because it’s exceedingly rare to find someone I can be myself around in these times. Humans can be decent conversation, but they tend to be sticklers for shoes,” she looked to her feet-- her paws-- and wiggled her toes, “and too often make remarks I’m not fond of. Same ones you no doubt prefer not to hear as well.” He just looked at her over the fire. 

“I’ll be honest, I’ve spent half my day following you today, trying to figure out if you were safe or not,”

“And you’ve decided…?”

“That you’re safe enough,” she chuckled. She’d get a proper conversation out of him yet. 

“Oh?”

“Never known a wolf to attack on sight,” she nodded to his medallion, “and you were kind and gracious to each person I saw you interact with,” she continued. Waiting for a response, but not wanting to push, she looked into the fire and drew her legs to the side, leaning her weight on one hip.

“I would have noticed if a single bird had followed me all day,” he grunted. That wasn’t quite what she expected as a reply, but it showed intelligence and caution. 

“A dog, two birds, and a squirrel” she replied.

“What?”

“I was a dog in the market, a sparrow in the town square, a squirrel on your way out of town and into the forest, and a chickadee for the past hour,” she looked to his eyes to gauge his reaction, “I’m no spring chicken. Reconnaissance is important to my staying alive, let alone having fulfilling conversations.” He paused after that, seemingly looking at the fire, but she knew that he was watching her in the edge of his vision. He was chewing over the fact that she had so many forms. Not many things could change into even three forms, let alone potentially the five he’d have been able to spot today. 

“And what, little stalker, do you propose we talk about?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the tree. She ignored the jab. 

“Pretty much anything other than children-” she spotted the minute twitch of his eye, “Whatever you want to talk about, really, as long as I can keep my tail out,” she flicked her hairless, red-black tail for emphasis, “Gets itchy if I’m in this form for long without it,” 

“Don’t know of any kind of shapeshifter that can do that many forms in such a short period,” he squinted at her. She tried to hide that that made her crestfallen. His eyes darting around her face said she hadn’t done a very good job. Just because he doesn’t know off the top of his head doesn’t mean the library doesn’t have something, she reminded herself. Sighing, she replied honestly,

“Other than me, neither have I,”

“What are you?” he asked, not unkindly, losing the wary, almost clinical tone he’d had. Of course honesty would be what got him. She should have predicted that. 

“I’ve no idea,” she answered, a bit quietly, surprising herself at the admission. He scratched his scar absentmindedly. Lae’elan wondered if it was terribly itchy or if his scratching was just a nervous tic.

“Don’t know, or won’t tell?”

“Don’t know. Honestly. Earliest memory is at a temple of Melitele for children, the office specifically, but the sisters told me I’d been left on the front stoop in the night,” Again, she was spilling truths freely. If it gets you closer to him, what’s it matter? Gets you closer to that library? He raised his eyebrows, but shrugged. 

“And you can just…”

“If I can figure out how it works, or might work, I can turn into it,”

“And that’s your face?” She rolled her eyes at the question. 

“Not a doppler. Here, I’ll prove it,” she said, sitting up straighter so she could reach around the fire, hand out loosely, palm towards the ground. As if she were a maiden offering her hand to a suitor to kiss. Nodding to his sword in its sheath at his side, she continued “Touch your silver to my hand,” When he didn’t do it immediately, she nudged her hand forward again and tilted her head to the sword, looking him dead in the eye, urging him to just do it. He tilted his head curiously, but unsheathed it. Moving slowly, he placed the flat of the blade on her hand without hesitation. There was, as she knew there would be, no sizzling of flesh. Just cool metal on a dainty, pale hand. Slowly, he turned the blade so that the edge sat atop her hand, but not enough pressure to cut. He piqued one eyebrow in askance. Lae’elan sighed, but nodded, and he immediately made a shallow slice. Her nose wrinkled a bit at the sting, but nothing happened. No hissing of melting doppler flesh. He wiped the blood off the blade onto his pants and replaced it in its sheath. 

“I can do faces, but to do so makes me… uneasy. Like an out of body experience, but the bad kind a human might have as a poor reaction to some drug. Ah, there’s a word for it…” she trailed off before licking at the cut on her hand to get rid of the blood and watching the sliced flesh knit itself back together. 

“Dissociation?” the witcher filled in before she had to think much. He eyed her hand curiously. 

“That’s it exactly!” she nodded, “Most I ever change is my nose. Other than, you know, making myself look human,” she circled her face with a finger, drawing attention to the obvious non-human features. He snorted at the obvious gesture. She huffed a chuckle back.

“Eskel,” he said, suddenly.

“Hm?”

“My name. I’m Eskel,”

“Oh!” she said, pleased, “Lae’elan,” she stuck out a hand to shake. He gently took the hand in his and shook it once. His hands are so much bigger than mine, she thought briefly before-

“Odd name. It’s not a-”

“It’s a bastardized attempt at a human making up an elven name. The sisters thought I was an elf,” she said, flicking one of her long ears, “They were shorter then, and I hadn’t grown a tail or horns or paws or wings at that point. Those didn’t come till later,”

“You looked-? Wait. Wings?” He looked at her shoulder, as if trying to see if he had missed something on her back. He was tilting his head to the side again, like a puppy. Melitele it’s more endearing every time he does it. 

“I have wings as well, but I don’t show those off until I really trust someone,” she explained, looking around the tiny clearing, “Besides, it’s a wee bit cramped for them to stretch out here.” The witcher-- Eskel, she corrected herself-- looked about the patch of dirt.

“They must be quite big, then,” 

“Big, unwieldy, and very sensitive to curious hands if you get my meaning.” He made an ‘ah, I see’ face and seemed a tad embarrassed. She wondered if the old tales of witchers not being able to blush was true, and if it wasn’t, would he be blushing now? Ah shit, maybe we do need to be less crass with this one afterall, she scolded herself. 

“But enough about what I can and can’t do, Eskel,” she laughed, and found she rather liked the sound of his name on her tongue, “Surely there’s something more interesting to talk about. Witcher like you must have some good stories or unique interests to talk about,”

“What are you, my brother’s bard?” He griped, smiling ever so slightly. The shapeshifter just raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah, my brother’s the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.” Another blank stare. 

“The famous witcher? The bard Jaskier, his songs, they’re all about him?”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she began, “I.. don’t come out into human society very often, and when I do I tend to stay away from the more gossipy crowds. I’m afraid I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,”

“Oh,” he looked a bit startled at the fact she was so out of the loop, but the look melded into a bit of bashfulness, “Well then I suppose I feel a bit honored to have been your choice of companion, then,” he said, smiling lightly before gathering his thoughts.

“My brother, Geralt, has bright white hair and is known for not staying out of the affairs of men as we’re meant to. He met a bard, that’s Jaskier, who latched on to Geralt’s pantleg and became rather famous as his barker. Has an entire song cycle about Geralt,” and, mumbling quieter than a human could hear, “You’d think that it wouldn’t take Ger 20 bloody years to figure out the kid is as in love with him as he Jaskier.” She couldn’t help but snort loudly, surprised at the comment. Eskel’s eyes shot up to her. She flicked her ear again. 

“You’ll have to remember I’m not human. Ears are big for a reason. I can likely hear better than even you,” she laughed again, “20 years?”

“Longer, 20 years of pining before they finally got their heads out of their asses and realized,” 

“Fuck, even I’m not that bad. Longest I’ve lasted is two years before giving in,”

“Yeah, well. It’s different when you're a witcher,” he said, mood souring.

“Oh?”

“We live a long time. You watch everyone around you grow old, die, their kids die. Even if you decide watching them die is worth it, being with a witcher is sure death, whether it comes from exposure to the elements, a monster getting them, or a vindictive witcher-hater,” 

“It’s not worth the experience of love? Of companionship?”

“They’ve decided it is,” he said, poking the fire with a stick, “Others? Me? I’m not so sure,”

They sat in silence for a minute, Lae’elan watching him as he moodily poked the sticks around.

“Eskel, how old do you think I am,” She asked, curious. He looked up sharply before looking her up and down. 

“20… 30?” she scratched his scar again, “I have trouble telling with humans,” She laughed softly, thinking of times long, long gone. 

“Try somewhere around 250, my dear,” she smiled and looked him in the eye, her own head tilting to the side now. If she didn’t impart anything on him but this, it might be worth it anyway, “And I have to agree with your brother and his bard. It’s worth it. Even if it kills a part of you when they go, it’s worth it.” He stared into her eyes for a minute, looking for something. 

“I’m… sorry,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at the ground to the side of the fire. 

“It’s ok. 80 years does a lot of healing,” her smile was sad, but brightening as she took up his idle mantle and poked the fire with a stick, prodding to move a bit that had fallen so that the fire could breathe better. 

“250?” he asked, looking her over again, “Really?”

“Somewhere between that and 260, I’d guess. Some bits get hazy on the years what with being a hermit for years at a time, and, well, I don’t know how old I was when I turned up at that orphanage,” she shrugged, “Apparently I looked to be about three, but when I ran away four years later, when I should have been 7, I looked closer to 11. My aging’s rather fucked up. So… my age is a mystery just like the fucking rest of me.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl lightly.

“I’ll go-”

“You can check those snares I saw you set up,” she cut in, rising to her feet and stretching her arms above her, “But I can catch my own food,” 

“I wouldn’t… I mean I didn’t-” He began. She chuckled. 

“I know you wouldn’t try to poison me or assume I can’t hunt for myself, Eskel, I just enjoy catching my own meals too much to let someone else.” With that, she shifted, her bones snapping into new forms, her russet hair turning into pale cream and brown fur, until a wolf wrestled its way out of her dress. She took off like a shot into the undergrowth, but not before noting Eskel’s discomfort at the sight. Have to unpack that later, she thought as she bounded in the direction she’d heard a deer about half an hour ago. 

Taglist: @its--fandom--darling

[castielle-deanna]

Rewind the exit

"Rewinding the exit wound, I'm holding on to you 'Cause I need words like anyone, and I need love like everyone With those words I'm strong enough, and I need love like everyone." (Rewind the exit by Volbeat)

Obligatory 15x18 Destiel fix-it. Partially inspired by the gorgeous art of Jackie @winchester-reload

2408 words. Read below the cut or on AO3

It's over. It took just a day – a painful, grueling whirlwind of a day, but it's finally over. Chuck's gone, the world is back on its axis as it should be, most of its population awoken from non-existence like it was merely a fever dream, but the factory reset was the last one in a row of tasteless jokes and it left things cruelly incomplete.

“Now, I'm getting him back,” Dean says. He doesn't specify whom he means – he knows it full well, and he's certain Sam does, too. “Don't know how, but I will.”

“Dean...”

“Don't. Don't say anything. I have to.”

“You can't start poking cosmic entities again! I know it's Cas, but -”

“You don't know, Sam, you don't!” Dean's voice wobbles as his volume rises, unbidden and unwanted tears gathering in his eyes. “Don't tell me you don't want Eileen back!”

“Of course I do, but not at any cost. We broke the world more than once, only just put it back together, we can't keep doing it over and over again.”

“It's Cas,” Dean chokes out, as if Sam didn't know, even though he said the same words barely a minute earlier. But something must be in the way he says the name, or maybe on his face while he says it, because Sam's frustrated expression softens, but the look of pity that replaces it is probably worse.

“He's your...” Sam hesitates, his loss for a fitting description clear as day. “Eileen...?” He finishes, intonation halfway between that of a question and a statement. Dean nods mutely, because of course Sam knows that, too. Because keeping it to himself is just impossible at this point and there's no real reason to hold it in anyway. “I'm sorry,” Sam says then, and Dean turns his back on him as a form of escape.

Oh, yes, it is worse. Because Sam lost people too, but somehow, his focus is suddenly on Dean's pain and only on Dean's pain. Too much, stop, I can't, Dean wants to yell, but all his energy is gone, sapped away; the way he sinks into the Impala's front seat is barely a thought more coordinated than a collapse into unconsciousness. Temporarily, Sam seems intent on stumbling around the car to take the passenger seat as usual, but in the end he pulls the rear door open, settling in behind Dean instead.

Dean's grateful for the distance, for being out of Sam's sight, and because he wants to give his brother the courtesy he is getting, he doesn't turn around, even when there's barely muffled sobs coming from the backseat. As he listens to the sounds of Sam's slowly subsiding anguish while less than an inch away from the edge himself, he doesn't think that any of it was even remotely worth it. Sure, they exist, and so does Jack, but it can't be called surviving when they lost everything they fought for, and suddenly there are limits to omniscient control that weren't there before.

Now, Jack's the Light, the Darkness and probably a million other things, because of course the Universe would decide to trust a 3-years-old nephilim with that kind of responsibility, but he was still powerless against their loss. All the Apocalypse World refugees are gone, like they never existed – which, technically is true; so are Eileen and C... Dean can't even finish the name, like he's reached the posting limit with the one out-loud use of it earlier. He wonders how he and Sam are still kicking, if anyone who died and was brought back is meant to remain permanently gone, why didn't they go, too, when the reset happened? Dying is not the hard part, staying behind is, if Sam's quieting sobs and Dean's... well, everything are to go by.

Jack appears outside the Impala, a pained expression on his face. He looks smaller than he is, and so, so young. He crouches down next to the open door on the driver's side, looking up at Dean.

“I have no access to the Empty, not without dying. I can't try to bring him back, I'm so sorry,” Jack reports without any preamble, and Dean's entire being feels squeezed. Of course he couldn't.

“It's not your fault, kid,” he croaks out eventually, and Jack nods solemnly in reply before moving over to the back door, opening it. Dean still doesn't turn.

“Sam.”

“Jack!” Sam sounds surprised, almost as if he hasn't even noticed his presence before. There's a rustle, the leather of the backseat creaks and the Impala wobbles slightly. Dean assumes it's because Sam slid over and Jack sat down.

“I found Eileen. She's in Heaven.”

“Is she... is she happy?” Sam asks, his voice pained.

“She is at peace, and in time, she will be happy. I opened up her Heaven, she is free to move around. She was on her way to her parents when I left her. She misses you, and asked me to tell you that she loves you,” Jack pauses, and Sam hiccups. “I offered her a chance to come back, but she knows it may upset the new balance. She decided not to risk it, but she'll be waiting for you.”

A loud wail-like sob breaks out of Sam, and it's too much for Dean to take, so he scrambles out of the car, desperate for air, for escape. With a sudden surge of energy he breaks into a run, blindly dashing past the church Chuck chose as the set for his famous final scene, past crumbling headstones, then trees until he runs out of ground and trips, falling to his knees. The sobs he fought so hard to keep hold of escape, and Dean screams to Heaven, to Hell, to the Empty and all of the in-between till his throat is raw, till all he wants is to curl up against a tree, to sleep, to black out, to d...

“Dean.” Sam's voice is strained. Dean doesn't ask how he found him, doesn't need to. “Let's go home.”

“I can't drive right now.”

“I know. Jack has already mojoed the car home, he'll be back for us.”

* * *

The Bunker is haunted. It's haunted by two faint apparitions of humanity who mostly pass each other by in the corridors like ships in the night, silent and distant.

Dean prays. Every morning, every evening, and most waking hours between the two, he prays. He doesn't know if Cas can hear him, but the faith that he can is all Dean has, so it has to be enough.

It's not enough. Yet Dean clings to it, because if he doesn't have that, he doesn't have anything. He prays out loud, he prays in his thoughts and he prays by touching the bloody handprint on his jacket. It's prayers he mumbles into his whiskey, sobs into his pillow, pounds into the punching bag in their gym, kneads into the dough he keeps making despite barely eating any of the resulting pies.

Sam is slightly quicker to get back on his feet. Dean can still see him wobble, of course he can, and he wants to help him stay upright, but considering himself the stronger brother, the protector, the grown-up, has never before been a lie this big.

When, a few weeks later, Sam suggests a simple hunt, a restless spirit not even strong enough to kill yet, Dean goes along not for himself, but for his brother.

When he lands in a broken heap after being thrown from a third-floor window, and he can see someone - who he assumes is Billie's successor – out of the corner of his eye, beckoning him, he doesn't go along for his brother, no matter how much he wants to, deep down. Everything hurts but he fights, and prays as long as he can stay awake.

When he wakes, nothing hurts but it doesn't feel real. He's back in the Bunker, under the covers on his memory foam mattress.

Someone sniffles just outside his field of vision, and Dean assumes it's Sam, or maybe Jack, but then the someone whispers his name. Dean sits up in a fluid motion, as if a spring wrenched him upright, and he turns his head to see tearful blue eyes.

“Am I dead?” Dean asks, because that's the only possibility, it cannot... he cannot...

“No. You're alive.”

“Am I hallucinating?”

“No, you're not,” Cas says softly and moves closer to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean feels it. He swings his heavier-than-lead legs around and drops his feet to the floor, one on either side of Cas who stands rooted to the spot, holding on to Dean's shoulder with a tight grip.

“Cas,” Dean whispers and Cas all but crumbles, kneeling down in front of him. “Did you mean it?” Dean asks. There are other questions, hundreds of hows and whys, but this is the most important one, and Dean hopes he doesn't sound as much like a needy teenage girl asking it as he thinks he does. Cas doesn't seem to care either way, judging by the gentle smile on his face.

“Of course. I meant every word. I wasn't planning on telling you all of it, and I'm sorry for dumping it on you like that, but I thought that was my only chance.”

“I should've said it back. But I froze.”

“Dean, you don't have to say anything. When I said that just being in love with you was enough, I meant that too.”

“I know. You said you know you can't have what you want, but you can. You can have it, if you still want... it.” The 'if you still want me' part remains implied. I should have said it back.”

Cas looks taken aback for a moment, then he seems to gather himself. “Do you want to say it now?” He asks, blue eyes wide and bright as he fixes them on Dean's. “I love you.” His voice carries the same warm, earnest determination it did... then, and for a moment Dean can almost hear the squelch of the Empty behind him, until the staccato beat of his wildly thumping heart reaches its loudest, trying to physically fit itself into Cas' palm which by now is resting right above it.

“I love you, Cas.” Letting go of the words is not only easier than Dean expected, but it's also freeing enough to make him understand how Cas could be so happy. Wanting to hang on to that feeling, he opens his mouth to say it again, but the attempt ends up lost between Cas' lips as they paint a kiss onto his.

Dean lifts his hands to cradle Cas' face so he could pull him closer, until it's just right, until it's perfect, actually; and he deepens their kiss then swallows Cas' faint whimper before pulling away, resting his forehead against the angel's.

“If I knew what having feels like...” Cas whispers then trails off, dipping in for another brush of lips, and Dean meets him halfway, wrapping both arms around the angel's shoulders. Cas is solid in his arms, alive and there. Dean can't get enough of it, of him, and squeezes tighter, allowing the kiss to fall into incoordination, because suddenly its importance is only secondary to holding onto Cas. He buries his face into the crook of Cas' neck, nuzzling the column of it, and Cas tilts his head to give Dean space to settle in, which he does, possibly for good. He babbles soundless, unsayable words into the angel's throat; breathes in his scent; sneaks a taste of his warm skin, because he can. Cas' breath hitches under Dean's ministrations, and it continues to stutter while Dean pops the buttons of the angel's dress shirt open, one by one, eventually freeing him from the cloth altogether, dropping it on the floor.

Dean doesn't mean it as a precursor to sex, there's not a hint of lust in his actions, and Cas appears to sense it but he helps Dean out of his layers anyway. The angel's slow touch ghosting its way up his bare stomach is reverent, light... as if he's expecting Dean to flutter away from underneath his fingertips like a fantasy, and Dean's so damn close to breaking he feels the cracks form, so it may just be an actual possibility. Cas' eyes are wrenched shut as he continues tracing patterns onto Dean's abs, over his ribs, every now and then flitting up to his collarbone, raking a blunt fingernail over it. Dean shivers - he has never been touched like this, he's never been loved like this, and it's too much to handle. He closes his eyes to stop the overload, but it makes it worse, because Cas' fingers are the real magic ones, now digging firmer into his sides, then pushing on his shoulders, and he lets himself fall back onto the bed.

Suddenly, the sensation of Cas disappears and Dean panics, eyes flying back open in terror until they settle on Cas standing still above him, intense gaze fixed on him. Cas is trembling, and if Dean thought having the wrath of God on him was intense, he had another thing coming in the love of an angel.

“Come here, Cas,” he mumbles, and makes space for Cas to lie down. When he does, Dean props himself up on his elbow, leaning over him.

Cas sighs. “I’m sorry for the way I left you.”

“You’re back now. That’s what matters.”

“When I heard you d-dying,” Cas falters and he gulps twice in quick succession, “I knew I had to fight my way back.”

“You're something else, you know that, right?”

“I hope that's a good thing,” Cas teases faintly, but his voice is so hoarse with emotions that it ruins the effect. Still, Dean chuckles, moving in to caress Cas' chest.

“I will show you just how good.” He attempts a flirtatious grin but what comes out instead is an almighty yawn. Cas laughs, obviously carefree and happy, his chest heaving under Dean's palm.

“Sleep, my love.”

“My love,” Dean echoes, barely a hint of a question in it, then fixes his mouth to Cas' for a lazy, drawn-out kiss. He fights the exhaustion creeping up on him as long as he can, but it wins out in the end, and Dean lets himself be pulled down on top of Cas, curling up into him in the process.

[agustdomain]

A Slideshow of Road Lines {3}

Synopsis: They say oil and water don’t mix. What about oil paint and engines? He’s an artist reaching toward his dream while the girl with an engine heart is too busy trying to get her hands on the wheel. Is there a way for them to hold onto each other?

Word Count: 7k words

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Genre: college!au, artist!Chris, angst

Warnings: Language, Mentions of sickness (OC’s dad)

Author’s Note: You ready to meet Chris? (; He’s officially in the next part. Or is he? She won’t face him in the present for the while, but her past is filled with Chris. I’m really excited for you to get to know him!

! IMPORTANT NOTE ! This story is taking place in TWO DIFFERENT TIMES. When you see these flowers ❁, the story is shifting from present to past. There will also be a “Then” next to the day in order to further indicate that. If you have any questions, let me know!

> Part Two <

DAY 8

Every time she steps foot in this sacred oasis, guilt floods her vision. Every single time, the guilt’s almost enough to make her turn around and head back downstairs. Almost. 

“Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while.”

She’s startled at the familiar voice, having not seen him when she first came up the steps. Once pinpointing where he’s crouched behind the bar, she takes her time as she trudges over. It’s been too long since the last time she’s been here. What, three or four months? It isn’t anyone’s fault but her own that she got herself in a predicament like this one. 

It’s her fault she’s feeling guilty, and it’s her fault for having gotten attached to this rooftop that once held all the answers.

“Sorry, I’ve just been busy,” is her vague explanation. He isn’t the type to push.

Seungmin finally rises from behind the bar, box of tall wine glasses in his arms.

Placing them on the bar, he offers a sweet smile. Any other time, it may have eased her pain. Now, it slams her with unwanted memories.

“It’s all good- hey. You okay?”

She gives herself a moment. With each breath, she hopes to rein in her uneven breathing, for the tears and memories to subside, and for the memories she built here that are heavily stained with Chris to disappear. 

“Everyone’s asking me that. To be honest,  There’s not enough time to even pinpoint what’s wrong with me.” Yes, there is. It’s just one word. “So, instead. I’m going to sit at this bar. Hopefully, you don’t have any prior obligations. Maybe, just maybe you can make me your delicious ass Shirley Temple. And maybe I can just hear about how you’ve been.”

Seungmin studies her for a moment, continuing to wipe down the glasses one by one. Nodding in understanding, her shoulders sag, although she already knew he would agree. These past few months, in some twisted declaration of fate, she had forged a connection with the man whom Chris adored. In her memory, when Seungmin was just a foggy face in the background of some of her most intense moments with Chris, she never would’ve guessed he’d be her friend now. Life is funny that way.

At the sound of his throat clearing, her ease fades, aware he’s never been a pushover. 

“I can get behind that. First, let me finish up all the closing procedures. While I’m putting these up, maybe you can grab a broom?”

A smile she isn’t expecting finds her lips. “That’s fair.”

“Your Shirley Temple will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

Rebel Corner has stood the test of time as one of the most beautiful places Y/N’s ever had the honor of witnessing with her own eyes. It’s a family-owned, "underground” rooftop restaurant. Not many know about it, mostly because it’s exclusive and important to the owners, and she had the honor of being one of the lucky few who was welcomed. 

Even after all these years, it still drew her in like the scent of homemade cookies. 

As she sweeps the wooden floors, her eyes do what they always do on their own accord. Trailing across the floor. Left, left, left, up. To the very table that sometimes finds its way in her dreams. If she listens hard enough, she can still hear Chris’ giddy laughter. 

She forces herself to look away as the tightness in her chest returns. 

When she finishes up, she slowly makes her way over to Seungmin. He’s in the midst of wiping down the bar counter, humming a tune underneath his breath. 

An escape from her life, a confidant she never would have expected. After all, she already has enough mutual friends with Chris. Seungmin is another story. 

Several months ago, her heartbreak had snuck up on her when she had least expected it. It was a night where she had entertained Minnie’s and Yeji’s terrible advice, agreeing to being set up on a date with a stranger. 

She didn’t even remember the poor guy’s name anymore, barely even remembered what he had said to set her off. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready, or how his eyes kind of resembled Chris’ beneath the restaurant light. Who was she kidding? No one could ever compare to the stardust in his irises.

One sentence had sent her running back to this place, her favorite spot prior to everything falling apart. 

To be honest, she figured they wouldn’t let her up here. Seungmin had an impeccable memory, seeing the past her caved in on herself and allowing her roof access without so much as a glance.  

Their friendship was unlikely, but it was born after many nights of her sorrowful solo dinners. He was a sweetheart in disguise, distracting her with trivial problems. He was a breath of fresh air from her otherwise stifling life. 

“... And I told him, ‘Look. If you don’t start using your own bar of soap, you really aren’t going to like what I have planned for you’.”

Y/N bursts into ugly laughter, almost spilling her drink all over herself. “Are you serious? You know that sounds so wrong, right?”

Seungmin feigns nonchalance as he shrugs, throwing his rag across his shoulder as he declares, “That’s why you don’t fuck with me.”

The curse word sounds wrong on his lips, not suiting him at all. They share a look before settling on a mutual distaste for his tough guy act. 

“What did you really tell him?”

Seungmin rubs the back of his neck shyly. “Well. I just started buying two soaps. He leaves mine alone now.”

“Seungmin! You can’t just let him take advantage of you like that.”

“What am I supposed to do? You know I hate confronting people!”

Y/N shakes her head, finishing off her Shirley Temple and slamming it down dramatically. “Do you want me to kick Felix’s ass?”

“No.”

“Come on. I have fighting experience!”

“Yelling at your phone screen when it freezes doesn’t count.”

“You’re insufferable,” She points a finger at him, making him giggle like a child. Silence finds them then, the kind she had been aching for since the moment her past came showing up at her door. 

Tipping her cup back, she welcomes the rough ice cube stinging her tongue as she settles into her frigid thoughts. Now that she’s calm, she figures it’s time to face her demons.

She laughs at herself. If this is how she melted down when hearing he was back, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like when she came face to face with him.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?” Something about Seungmin’s tone quickly snatches her attention, her composure dissipating at the scared look frozen in his features. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

In slow motion, he looks up from his phone in his hands, swallowing heavily. “It’s… it’s Chris. He said he’s here.”

Oddly, a memory finds her then, one she hadn’t thought of in over two years. A memory of her and Chris running down the street late at night, hands clasped tight and road lines a blur, his dimpled smile brighter than the street lamps guiding their path. She can’t remember what they were doing that night, likely goofing off, she just recalls the bliss he brought her when life was too terrifying to face. 

All she felt now was dread at the sound of his name- to the point of vomiting all of the cherry 7-up churning in her stomach.

“What do I do?” Her body moves into action, rushing to her feet and knocking the bar stool onto its side. The crash makes him wince, but he’s just as panicked as she is. “Where is he?”

“I-I don’t know. He’s probably on his way up the stairs-”

She never would have pictured the sound of a rooftop door opening being the sound to freeze her blood. The last sight she sees before dropping to the floor and crawling around the bar is Seungmin’s eyes wide with fear. 

“Chris! W-wow! I almost can’t believe my eyes!” If she could, she’d kick Seungmin for his lack of acting skills. 

“Is this a bad time?”

If she were an artist, this would be the point in the process where her hand slips and makes an irredeemable mistake across the canvas. She supposes that’s why Chris is the artist, not her. The sound of his voice is a dent in her plans, a deeper pothole in the road than she realized. No, not a pothole. A ditch. And her car is heading for it at 120 mph. 

“No! That’s silly. What makes you think it’s a bad time? We’re closed, man! I’m the only one here! Don’t be ridiculous! I’m alone!”

Squeezing her eyes shut, nausea bubbles in her stomach and toward her throat. If Seungmin blows this- no, Chris couldn’t possibly know she’s here. She’s not ready. And how is she going to explain this to him if he sees her? He probably doesn’t even know her and Seungmin are friends.

“Okay,” Chris drags it out, sounding a distance away even though there are mere feet separating them. The tense atmosphere spills into the floor and snakes around her ankles as the boys greet each other normally, sounds of reunion and happiness filling the air. How is this possible? Y/N really went and dug the ditch herself. “How’ve you been, man?”

“I’ve been… well, the same. Rebel has been booming with the usual guests. Boss hired a new hostess though and she’s a pain in my ass.”

The second worst sound-the song of her lover’s laugh- fills the night air. The same night air that offered her answers moments ago now closed in on her. “I’ll never get over seeing you mad. It’s like watching a baby throw a tantrum. Precious.”

“I see you’re your usual chirpy self.”

“I try.” There’s a pause, one that makes Y/N start sweating. As if she hasn’t made too many, she makes another mistake. She can’t help herself. Chris is here in the flesh, and it’s been two and a half years since she was last near him. Before she knows it, she’s peeking around the corner of the bar. 

Her heart nearly gives out at the sight of him looking in her direction, throwing herself back behind the bar. Her back’s painfully pressed into the wood behind her, praying silently and heart slamming. Pleading that he didn’t see her, she sighs in relief when he says, “Hey, Seung? Why is there a stool knocked over?”

“Oh. That.” Her eyes widen, sweat gathering all over her body. Clenching her teeth, she mentally spews out all of her anger at Seungmin. “Well, what do you think? You think I snuck a girl up here or something? That when you told me you were here, I told her to scram and she knocked that stool over in a rush?”

Silence. 

Her heart’s beating so loud, Chris must hear it. Instead, his laughter plays like the piano chords it is. “You’re something else.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” Chair scraping. Like a child and an electrical outlet, she can’t help tempting the danger as she peeks out again, promising herself it’s the last time. How stupid can she get? Seungmin’s blocking her vision, her heart yelling at him to move out the way and her brain telling her not to look. “I just wanted to drop by. I’ve missed you. And, well, I’ve been visiting all the people I haven’t seen. It’s been a minute. Too long of one”

“It really has. Are you back for good?”

“I am,” It’s a mistake, peeking to see him that second time. Once Seungmin moves, unveiling the man that took her heart hostage, she can’t submerge from the tsunami anymore. She’s lost at sea. 

His hair’s the color of the marshmallow cake he made for her birthday once. Cut short on the sides, bangs framing his forehead. He used to complain about having bangs. 

And she always used to tell him how effortless he made beauty look. He would only laugh it off, never one to dwell on appraisal. 

His style hadn’t changed, a dark red dress shirt with a couple buttons undone off the top. The Venus chain necklace he had never taken off still hanging around his neck and glimmering beneath the rooftop’s fairy lights. Even from here, she can recognize that necklace anywhere. 

Eyes welling with tears, she scoots back to her previous spot. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she claws at the knot around her heart, threatening her. In the span of his absence, she somehow managed to fool herself into believing she’s fine. 

“Well, that’s good to hear. I imagine you’ll be dropping by to get your usual dinner one of these days.”

“Yeah…” A stifling pause, “Shame the food won’t be perfect anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Food only tastes perfect when the perfect person is with you to share it.”

Y/N slowly raises her head, a storm spilling on her cheeks, wondering if it muddled her hearing somehow. Did she hear him right?

“Ah. I see.” Ask him, Seungmin. Ask him what he means. Ask him about it.

Ask him anything. 

“Sorry, man. I don’t mean to dump anything on you. I just got caught up for a moment. This place brings up a lot of buried memories, you know.” A clap, likely on a shoulder. “I’ll be going now. Have some other stops to make before I call it a night.”

“Alright. Don’t stay away too long. I need to hear all about what you’ve been up to. I remember how excited you were about the expedition.”

She doesn’t. All she remembers is the despair raw on his face, his pain on display like a true tortured artist. 

“Definitely. I’ll catch you later.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Even after hearing the rooftop door slam closed, she doesn’t move. It’s almost unreal, being so close to him with the distance of two years between. She wonders what it would be like if they had somehow made it work all this time. Would she have been the one to pick him up from the airport? She would have been the one to plan the party for him that she’d missed yesterday. 

She needs to move on. 

Chris Bang is her past, and even if he chooses to reappear in her present, there’s no future for them.

“Hey.”

She looks up, Seungmin kneeling in front of her with a hand outstretched. It’s a humiliating moment when she realizes she’s been lying to herself all this time. Now’s the time for her lovely friend logic to return home, gone for so long she barely remembers its voice. It’s a shame, because without logic, all of the improvements she’s made in the last couple of years go out the window. 

Without logic, how will she protect her heart?

With a watery smile, she ignores the look of sympathy on his face as she shakily grabs his hand. She answers the question in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

                                                        ~~~~

Closing the front door chases off the small ounce of energy left. Sighing heavily, she stays facing the door for a moment. She had spent most of the ride with Seungmin in silence, thankful for his offer and taking it in her vulnerable state of mind. Just like Chuu, he always knows when not to prod, unbothered by her distance and silence.

Hearing a bag zip up, her gaze trails to the living room where Chuu’s in the middle of shouldering her backpack. Without acknowledging Y/N, she moves to walk past her and to the stairs. Odd, even for Chuu.

“Hey,” Slides from Y/N’s mouth awkwardly, confused. 

Startled at the greeting, Chuu looks at her wide-eyed before blurting, “I forgot I have to call my mom! I’m headed up to my room.”

“O-kay,” Y/N mutters, eyes following her as she rushes up the stairs. Before dwelling on it any further, Minnie comes down the stairs past Chuu, her gaze clouded and filled with warning. 

“Is Chuu okay?” Y/N treads carefully, walking over to the couch and throwing herself across it, all of her efforts in trying not to think about Chris. Trying to block his voice out, his face, him. She’s completely drained. 

“She’s fine,” Minnie’s voice is clipped, cold. Y/N doesn’t bother to figure out what she’s upset about this time. She’s surprised when Minnie hovers over her from the back of the couch, cup in hand and eyes staring down at her.

“What?” Y/N says, utterly defeated.

“Are you okay?”

“It seems like that’s everyone's favorite question these days.”

Minnie keeps on staring at her. Taking a sip of her drink, she takes her time before speaking again. “Yeji told me about Chris. Makes a lot more sense now why you got wasted and embarrassed me last weekend. I’m sorry I… haven’t been around to be there for you.”

Y/N doesn’t know what to say. Truth be told, she wouldn’t have expected this type of response from her. Ever. “It’s… fine.”

“I mean it,” Minnie walks around the couch and takes a seat near Y/N’s head. She stares at her roommate at an awkward upside-down angle, noticing her voice is uncharacteristically soft.“I haven’t really been myself. I never thought I would be one of those girls that changes when she’s in a relationship. It’s no excuse, but ever since I met Hongseok, he’s all that fills my mind.”

Sitting up, Y/N’s hand gently squeezes Minnie’s shoulder. “You haven’t done anything wrong. That’s normal. You’re in love.”

“Yeji would disagree with that. She always has something to say.” Sometimes Y/N wonders how the two of them haven’t killed each other.

“You know her. It’s not hard to make her shit list.”

“True,” Minnie stares forward, sipping from her cup every few moments. The longer Y/N sits with her, she realizes how nice it is to be around someone who’s unafraid to be themselves. Minnie can be overbearing more often than not, but on the flip side she’s as honest as they come. She doesn’t tiptoe around Y/N or make her feel like she’s a ticking time bomb. 

“It’s just been a lot to process. I feel like since I’m on the go with school and work, with all of these things on my mind, I can’t even begin to process that he’s back. It’s hard to describe. The last time I saw him was… well, it’s stained in my head like a bad tattoo. And I thought the wound had healed. I’m such an idiot. I thought I’d react well if I ever saw him again. That’s… definitely not the case,” Strangled laughter bubbles past her lips. 

Minnie peers at her for a couple seconds before lying her head on the back of the sofa. “I’ve never been in your shoes before. I’ve never dated anyone like you have, never had a bond like the one you had with him. I mean, it’s so rare these days for there to be guys like Chris…” Quickly, she continues, “I don’t mean to make it worse. I’m just bringing it all up because why are you being so hard on yourself? Everyone moves on at different paces. Even if you moved on, it doesn’t make it any easier when you see someone you loved for the first time in a long time. You’re human, Y/N. He used to be the guy that had power over your heart. It’s not something you can just bury.”

“I just wish… I don’t know.” Y/N hates that she feels the urge to cry again. 

“You’re not going to figure everything out in one night. Go easy on yourself. Just promise me that.”

Easier said than done. Regardless, she knows Minnie’s intentions are pure. “Okay.”

Minnie stands up, hand finding Y/N’s thigh and squeezing comfortingly before rising to her feet. She takes her time heading for the stairs, pausing at the bottom before looking over her shoulder. “It’s not your fault that he left.”

Those words haunt Y/N long after their conversation, repeating in her head like a jammed radio. 

As she lay in bed that night, a blanket protecting her from the smiles of her ghosts, Minnie’s words replay. 

She understands the sentiment, even recognizes the sincerity. 

Only problem is, she doesn’t agree at all. 

After all, it’s her fault everything fell apart. If it wasn’t for her, she and Chris would still be together. 

That’s what’s poking at her, why it’s so hard to imagine facing him. How can she face him when she can’t even face herself? How can she confront the reality that she’s the reason he’s left with a scar, one she imagines have darkened his hands and his paintings?

His muse? Please. She must be his worst nightmare.

❁     ❁     ❁    ❁     ❁     ❁     ❁

Day 10, Then 

The pop music flowing from different stores contrasted with the gloomy weather overhead. Glancing up at the rumbling clouds in dismay, she found herself wondering why anyone in their right mind thought it was a good idea to build an outdoor mall. 

Looking around at the passersby, it would seem like they didn’t care if it was moments from raining. Bundles of teenagers gathered, filming videos on their phone and talking way too loud. Older couples were the only ones rushing for cover, complaints falling in the space between her and them as they rushed past. 

The longer she spent wandering aimlessly, the more close she was to giving up. Yes, her dad insisted on her going out and spoiling herself. The thought only filled her with guilt. Even when he was far from being healthy, he still wanted to take care of her. He worried about her, when he should’ve only worried about getting better.

At the thought of her dad, weights built up and suffocated her chest. She couldn’t do this, not now. Sighing heavily, she turned on her heel and headed back the way she came. If she rushed, she could make the next bus back to campus. 

Right as the edge of the mall came into view, a large neon sign snagged her attention, pausing in her footsteps. 

Painters. A soft neon pink sign, more inviting than any other sign she’d seen so far. Its soft letters reminded her of pink lemonade. Unlike the name, it appeared to be a shoe store rather than an art supplies store, which is what she expected. 

Shaking her head, the rain began its gentle dance on the concrete around her. Not long after, gentle kisses found her exposed skin. Y/N moved to walk past the store, but her legs came to a stop without much thought. Glancing at the bright array of shoes in the window, she realized that maybe she might find something in there she’d like. That, and it would make her dad insanely happy when she called home tonight, telling him she already bought something for herself. 

Stepping in, she recognized the sad serenade of a Post Malone song playing overhead. The shoe shop was smaller than the more popular brand stores, colorful paper maché lights hanging low from the ceiling. The longer she studied the shop, the more she appreciated it for its individuality. Even the shoes weren’t all the same, offering varieties and brands she never even heard of. 

When she first entered, the first thing to catch any customer’s eye was the big chalkboard in unnecessarily bold letters that read FIRST COME FIRST SERVE FOR EACH PAIR. ONE SIZE ONLY PER PAIR.

“That makes things more difficult,” Y/N uttered to herself.

Wandering down the nearest aisle, an uncontrollable smile tugged her lips at the kids section. Reading the sign above the shelf, her heart tugged in fondness at the realization of just how different Painters was. 

Children designed the collection of kids shoes before being placed out in the store to be sold. More intrigued, she turned the corner and stumbled upon the next section titled Kollege Kids. Their designs were more professional but had just as much character. Personally, she preferred the kids’ designs.

She scoffed in disbelief. Prior to this moment, she had no idea stores like this even existed. Her eyes trailed to the top right corner of the shelves in front of her. A pair of high top converse, all white save for the drawings of the milky way galaxy in blue and orange ink. 

Taking them off the shelf, she was launched back into her conversation with her dad a couple nights ago, a younger version of her racing down the road holding her daddy’s hand wearing her favorite orange and blue sneakers. 

Staring down at the sneakers, she realized how important it was for her to get them now, the uncanny nostalgia from them pressuring her into the purchase. Just then, she was reminded of the obnoxious sign at the front of the shop about how each pair had one size only. 

Closing her eyes, she willed the sneakers to be her size before pushing the tongue back to see. Deflating, all hopes of having these special shoes washed away as she slammed them back down on their designated spot. 

“I understand the frustration.”

She turned then, eyes finding the guy who was staring at her from the end of the aisle. Her eyes washed over him quickly, eyebrows rising in curiosity at his button up pushed to the forearms and an art apron tied loosely around his hips. She connected the dots a beat too late that he was an employee. 

Noticing her confusion, he smiled slightly as he grasped the apron with two fingers. “This? Yeah, it’s an… interesting choice of uniform. My boss is an eccentric gal. It fits the theme, don’t you think?”

Y/N nodded, unsure of what to say. Turning back to face the shoes, all sense of desire to buy anything was completely gone. Those sneakers were it, and since they weren’t her size, there was no use. The eccentricity of the store was fresh and amazing until a person realizes the shoes they love don’t come in their size.

The employee stepped closer, putting up a pair of sneakers near her. Stepping aside a bit, she found her eyes found his again as he continued to observe her. What was this guy’s deal?

“I was just looking around. I’m not going to buy anything,” Y/N decided on, hoping it was enough to get him to leave her alone. It wasn’t.

“Really?” He sounded unconvinced. Nodding at her- well, the pair of shoes- he crossed his arms as if he were all-knowing. “Seems like your heart was pretty set on those. I can see why. They’re pretty kick-ass. I’m assuming they weren’t your size?”

“Yeah, they weren’t,” She said wistfully, ready to go back to her dorm and never come to this shop again. 

“Hate when that happens.”

Turning to him, ready to snap, her mouth shut on its own as her eyes found his face. There were no ill intentions behind his gaze, only empathy. Her eyes wandered on their own, his dark hair short and neat but his eyes suggesting a more wild existence. Even the way he wore his uniform suggested he was barely following the rules. 

Her eyes trailed to his shoes, dark maroon boots with doodles drawn on it with- was that brown sharpie? Feeling his eyes on her, they quickly jumped back to his face. Dimples appeared and softened his presence even further, catching her in the act. 

Mouth parting, trying to justify what probably looked like she was checking him out, she didn’t need to say anything as he headed back the way he came. 

“There’s plenty of magnificent shoes in here. I hope you find another pair that makes you feel the way those did,” He called over his shoulder. Stopping at the end of the aisle, he turned back and gave her a look she didn’t quite understand. “It might be hard, but some shoes just aren’t the right fit. And it’s because the ones that are will own your heart more than you realize.”

Her heart was racing after he disappeared from view and she couldn’t figure out the cause. Was it the guy? No it couldn’t have been. Was it the shoes? Definitely not. His words… how could someone be so wise when they were just talking about shoes?

Afraid to be seen by him again, she peeked from behind the aisle she was in, and once the coast was clear she made a beeline for the door. Just as her hand pushed open the door, she felt the strong urge to look back. So she did. 

The guy from before was in the middle of placing another pair of shoes on a nearby rack, arm outstretched above his head. Instead of his attention on the task at hand, his eyes were watching her as she left. 

Heart jumping, she caught the edge of his smile before she rushed out the store.

Day 14

Another day, another night of drowning in assignments.There were points where thoughts of her dad crept in, but she buried it as the stress of her work washed over. Sometimes, she craved a break.

She didn’t have the time for that. 

The break would be possible if she didn’t have a job interview in two hours with the bakery down the street. Gogo’s  was its name, and she had been looking for a part-time position that had flexible hours and leniency. Since it was nearby, she hoped she was set for the school year. To keep herself from panicking, she put all of her energy into trying to finish some homework beforehand.

For once, she was grateful for the distraction when Yeji called her. As she typed away at her laptop, she put her on speaker.

“Y/N! Come out with us!”

“I can’t today. Sorry.”

“Hold on.” There was the usual sound of crinkling and she shook her head, knowing what was coming. Like clockwork, there was Hyunjin’s signature confused sounds before he greeted her. 

“Hey.”

“Sorry, the answer’s still no.”

“Why, though? It’s been ages since we hung out.”

“I feel like I experience déjà vu whenever I talk to you these days. College has made you two really clingy,” She held back a smile at Hyunjin’s sound of disbelief.

“And college has made you really crabby and mean!”

“I’m flattered,” Y/N said, coming off a lot more colder than she intended. She hoped he understood. Being an engineering major was kicking her ass. The silence made her feel guilty, so she added, “I probably would but I have a job interview in a bit.”

“Oh. Well, why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because if I told Yeji that, she’d want me to skip it. You know her tendency to think everything’s a game.”

“True.” 

The two of them chatted for a few more minutes before she hung up, signalling it was time for her to get ready. Her stomach was a bundle of nerves as she attempted to mentally prepare herself for the interview, heading for the shower. 

When she got out, Chuu was on her own bed scrolling through her phone. Every now and then, she would glance over at Y/N as she shuffled back and forth throughout the room. 

“You seem nervous,” Chuu quietly noted.

“I am. But things will be okay. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Right.” As Y/N did a onceover of her hair, Chuu came up behind her in the mirror. Her head tilted up, nodding firmly at her. 

“You got this.”

Somehow, in the short time she had gotten to know the girl, she had the uncanny ability of making things feel okay- even if for a moment. With one gesture, with brief exchanges- Chuu’s strength filtered through her veins.

“Thank you.”

                                                        ~~~~

By the time Y/N made it back to her dorm, Chuu was nowhere to be found. Knowing her, she was probably holed up in the nearby library- she was the type that couldn’t get work done anywhere else. 

She weighed her options, knowing she should probably work on her homework. For once, she allowed herself some time to relax. Changing into her favorite pajamas, she grabbed her keys and left her dorm, heading for the convenience store downstairs. It really was handy to live on campus. 

After she grabbed her favorite Jalapeño chips and an orange juice, she got in line. Her thoughts wandered, not really paying attention to her surroundings. That was, until she heard two very familiar voices. Before she could even look for the source, an arm wrapped around her shoulders as Hyunjin’s citrus lip balm filled her nose. 

“I thought that was you.”

“Hey, Honey,” she said, pushing him off of her. Looking dejected, his attention was snatched by something nearby, disappearing as quick as he came. Yeji sidled up next to her in line, shooting a dirty look to the person behind Y/N. As if the person waiting in line was the one in the wrong. 

“How was your interview?” She asked, smacking the gum in her mouth. 

“It was good,” It really was. Y/N didn’t want to jinx it, but she was confident she got the job. 

“You probably got it. It’s you,” Yeji sighed, stretching her arms out. Little comments like that always reminded Y/N that as loud and aggressive she could be, Yeji tried her hardest to show her affection in other ways.

“Thanks,” Y/N coughed out, reaching the front of the line. As she paid, Yeji filled her in on her night. At first, she wasn’t paying too much attention to her words, expecting her to complain about Jisung again. When she realized that wasn’t her friend’s topic of choice at all, she tuned in. 

“...And I’m actually surprised. I really did have fun. I think I won’t mind if I have to spend time around Jisung, after all.”

“Glad you had fun,” Y/N deadpanned, leading the way out of the line and trailing over to Hyunjin. He  was at the dessert aisle and having trouble deciding between a Twinkie and an Oatmeal Cookie. 

“You weren’t listening, were you?” Yeji accused.

“I was!” She responded, but Yeji didn’t believe her.

“It’s kinda weird, though. I thought Jinnie here was being dramatic when he said Chris makes everything better. The guy actually does.”

Y/N nodded her head at her words, wondering what Chris could’ve possibly done to get in Yeji’s good graces. It was hard to please her. 

Hyunjin grabbed both desserts in one hand before turning to Y/N and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Bummer you couldn’t meet him tonight.”

“Come on, he can’t be that great. You’re hyping him up like he’s Tom Holland or something.”

“Okay, don’t take it that far,” Yeji gasped. 

Hyunjin shook his head at her before hitting them both with, “Well, I-” slamming down the sweets in front of the clerk- “think he’s better than Spidey boy.”

Yeji blew a breath out. “I’ll admit he’s cool but no one tops Tom.”

“Not even Tobey? Give me a break.”

“I’ll break your arm and we’ll call it a day.”

The clerk watched the two, wide-eyed, and Y/N could only pretend she wasn’t their friend as she headed for the door. As they all headed for her dorm, she listened to them continue to rave about this guy. It was almost ridiculous how much they idolized him. 

There couldn’t be anyone better than Hyunjin, at least in her book. Though she didn’t like him like that, her best friend had set the bar high for her in how she expected good guys to be. Hyunjin was kind, selfless, and did the best he could to make anyone feel like they belonged. He was the lantern that everyone was drawn to in the dark. 

So, yeah, maybe this Chris guy was cool. But to Y/N? It seemed like they were just buzzed about getting along with someone new. 

“...You’ll like him, Y/N. I know you will,” Hyunjin gave a firm nod, stuffing his entire cookie in his mouth, “Swell guy,” he added, crumbs flying out and toward the girls. Yeji shrieked, hands reaching out and slapping him hard on his arm. 

Y/N scolded him, but not before she laughed at his puppy dog face, hands up to block Yeji’s hits as he still continued to mumble with a full mouth.  She laughed, “You’re so gross.”

“And so are you! Don’t forget I have dirt on you,” He pointed at Y/N before moving over to Yeji, “And you, too.”

“Whatever,” She sighed, leading the way off of the elevator. She wasn’t surprised at all when they followed her. “Anyways, I’ll meet him next time.”

As she unlocked the door, Yeji leaned in and tried to be quiet as she whispered, “He’s so fine, Y/N. He’s going to be the man of your dreams, watch. I’m going to be dreaming of him tonight.”

Hyunjin choked on his twinkie, shoving Yeji right into the doorway. As she yelped, he shouted, “Ew! You’re so thirsty! Go find someone else to fantasize about. You’re not allowed to like my friends.”

“Why not? You gotta admit he’s hot!”

“And? You’re my cousin. I’m trying to save him from your crazy ass.”

“You’re such a brat. I don’t even want him like that. But finally you have a fine ass friend. Thought having a family member my age meant more hot friends. Guess not.”

“Both of you relax. Didn’t expect a guy to come between the two of you,” Y/N grinned at her own joke as the two of them proceeded to aim their fire at her. After a while, the fire went out on its own as they lounged lazily on her small bed, chatting about random things that came to mind. 

Even though they drove Y/N crazy sometimes, she knew that without them, her life would’ve taken a completely different path otherwise. 

“Hey, I forgot to mention! Not sure if you remember, but we made plans with the guys on Saturday to go to Kev’s. It’s for Chris’ birthday. I really want you there,” Hyunjin announced out of the blue, Y/N’s eyes leaving her computer.

Kev’s was an entertainment place that had blown up over the past couple of years. It was a mix of an arcade, sports bar and bowling alley- talk about indecisive. She had only been there once back in high school for a birthday party.

Tilting her head back and forth in thought, she eventually nodded. “I think I can make it. I don’t have much due this weekend, surprisingly.”

“Nice! Okay, I’ll ask CB if he can scoop you up.”

“Why can’t you pick me up?” She asked, not liking the sound of riding with a guy she barely met. 

Hyunjin avoided eye contact, which led to Yeji answering for him. 

“He’s picking up his new girlfriend, that’s why. He’s ditching us and handing us over to his weird friend,” Yeji blurted, before gasping and exclaiming, “I need to think of what to wear.”

“Wait, you have a new girlfriend?” Y/N asked, spinning in her desk chair to face him.

Hyunjin gave his cousin a look before he sighed and said, “No, I don’t. Not yet, at least. I’m just seeing where things go.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well-” Hyunjin looked ashamed- “I don’t know if it’s anything serious yet. I just want to test the waters, you know. And I didn’t tell Yeji, she’s just nosy and happened to overhear me talking to Jisung about it.”

Y/N nodded in understanding, turning back to her desk. It was weird, not because Hyunjin didn’t date, but because it was unlike him to not tell her these things. For the sake of her homework, she decided to let it go. 

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” Yeji yawned, “But maybe I’ll see you before Saturday.” 

“Yeah, I think I’ll head out too,” Hyunjin added, and Y/N rose to her feet to walk them to the door. 

As they said their goodbyes, Hyunjin lingered as Yeji slowly walked down the hall without noticing. Just as Y/N was about to close the door, Hyunjin caught it.

“What’s up?” Her voice came out slow, noting his nervousness.

Licking his lips, he took a deep breath as he searched her face. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t like I was hiding it from you I just… yeah, we’ve all had things to do and I just didn’t want to stress you out. You know, with all your schoolwork and… and your dad.”

Up until his last words, Y/N was pretty understanding. At the mention of her dad, she shut down. Hyunjin noticed, too, trying to backtrack.

“W-what I meant by that is-”

“It’s fine, Hyunjin. I’m not even sweating it,” She said, and even to herself she sounded cold. 

“Wait, that was insensitive of me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I just didn’t want to put anything else on your plate.”

“Telling me about a girl you like is something to add on my plate?”

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, before saying, “Yeah.” Even he must’ve known how ridiculous that sounded.

Wanting to be irritated, she realized he was only being considerate of her feelings, right? Even if this was the first time he had kept something from her, it wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t possibly mean anything else. So, she decided to truly let it go.

“Don’t worry, Honey. It’s all good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

[samyazaz]

This is a little more specific than, y'know, a general AU setting, but if you're feeling it, PQT, Gravity AU, and, honestly any trope, but it's them, so perhaps Only One Bed?

Ewhoza glances back at the huddled group of them, one brow lifted like he’s expecting something, before he presses his palm flat to the scanner set into the wall. Its light glows a moment, just long enough for Quil to tip her head and wonder if maybe it wasn’t expectation at all, maybe he’s just wanting to show off, when they all know that Quil could have released the pneumatics with a thought. He doesn’t even bother to remind her to wipe the access records so Security won’t know they’ve been here, but she thinks it’s more out of arrogance than any sort of confidence in her, and so she’s frowning, exasperated, when the locks release with a hiss, and the doors slide open.

It’s the light that strikes her first, the warm, verdant brightness of it, and the frown falls off of her face as she gives a swift gasp, and then loses her breath all at once as her lungs flood with air so heavy with scents that her mind reels at the onslaught, even as the part of her that’s the ship sorts and filters and categorizes, tells her Loam, and Herbs, and Wet earth, and Greenery.

She stumbles forward, heedless for once of the unceasing analytic stream of thoughts flowing through her mind, only distantly aware of the others doing the same around her, looking just as stunned as she feels.

She knew there were hydroponic gardens on upsilon level, of course. She knows everything about the ship. Almost everything. Everything they didn’t deem it to dangerous for her to know, like her psych evals, her past, her name. Who she was, before they made her Tranquility.

She knew there were hydroponic gardens on upsilon level, knew they produce enough food to provide for the caloric needs of every person on board with enough to spare for seed and for compost, she knew how much of their water stores they required and the precise wattage that the lights drew, and somehow it had never occurred to her to put these pieces together and imagine this, a vast, endless expanse of hydroponics, stacked up to the ceiling and stretching out as far as the eye can see, farther, so everywhere she looks, all she sees is light and green.

“How...” she breathes, stumbling forward, down one of the rows left between the structures. “How...” She flinches, then laughs breathlessly, when the reaching leaves of a tomato plant brush her cheek.

Behind her, Ewhoza’s voice is dry, a little mocking. “How did you think we’ve been feeding all these people, all these years?”

She shakes her head, because that’s not what she meant. “I know, but... how did I not realize?” Somewhere on the edge of her awareness there’s a humming noise, like the machines she spent her life wired into, like the thrum of the ship around them. Like the rushing in her ears after they released her and brought her back, in the ill, disoriented moment before the world went black around her. She reaches for her sensor data, but she — the ship — is fine. She fights the urge to sit and stick her head between her knees. Her stomach isn’t twisted like it had been before. Her skin isn’t hot. Her vision seems normal, if half-dazzled by the brilliance of the green all around her.

A hand touches her shoulder, pulling her back to herself, to the herself that is contained within her skin. Phi is at her side, looking at her with a concerned, unvoiced question written plain on her face. Terry’s just beside her, looking no less alarmed. Beyond them, Ewhoza is saying, “—no one ever stops to consider how we do all that we do for everyone, do they?” and his tone is at odds with his words, is a little sad and a little lost, instead of the righteous belligerence she might have expected of him. It startles her to realize that he was answering her, in a fashion, though her question hadn’t been meant for him, hadn’t been meant for anyone, really, except perhaps herself.

“I’m all right,” she says to Phi and to Terry, quietly.

Phi nods once, taking her at her word but keeping a light touch on her shoulder all the same. Terry looks only half-reassured, but he moves a step away, his hand on Phi’s elbow drawing her with him, and hers on Quil drawing Quil along after as well. “Let’s go see what we can find that’s ripe. Do you think you can eat, Quil?”

“I can try,” she says, unhelpfully, because she can know in a fraction of a fraction of a second if a single lightbulb ten levels down and halfway across the ship has burnt out, but she still doesn’t understand how her own body works half the time.

It’s enough for them all the same, though, because they guide her off, deeper into the field of greenery, and each row that they walk down smells different than the last, this one sharp and fresh and pungent, the next floral and sweet. They pluck a berry here, a leaf there, and they pass the best of each to her and watch her sidelong when she eats them dutifully, smiling with happiness and enjoyment, at the bursts of flavor upon her tongue and at the company and at the feeling like they’ve gotten themselves lost in the dense jungle of the hydroponic towers, even though it’s not possible for her to really ever be.

The humming starts again and she stops still. Phi and Terry turn back to her, looking concerned once more, but she shakes her head, says, “I’m all right, I just— Do you hear that?”

Phi tips her head like she’s puzzled, or like she’s listening for it too, and Terry looks around, uncertain but searching, but it fades and then comes again, louder, and Quil does feel like her legs are going to collapse underneath her but she doesn’t feel like she did when she lost consciousness and she doesn’t understand why.

“Oh,” Terry says, his expression clearing, and the humming stops just as it’s reached its loudest. “Is that what you heard? Here, hold still.” He reaches towards her. His fingers brush, almost tickling, against the side of her neck, and the sound begins again, and fades sharply. “It’s all right. It was a bee, I think. It must be a bee. They’re pollinators, aren’t they?”

“A bee?” She whirls in the direction the sound vanished, searching the green all around them. “Where?”

“It’s all right,” Terry says again. “It’s flown off now.”

“Oh,” Quil gasps, and her legs are going to give out on her, they are, but they can’t, not now, not when she needs them. “Where?”

She takes off in the direction the sound had disappeared, pushing through the narrow spaces between structures that had never ben meant to be pathways, until another humming noise darts past her and this time she’s able to spot it, to track it, a small golden shape flitting amongst all that green.

She follows it until it’s joined by another, by a third, and her heart is pounding and she can scarcely breathe. She pushes through row after row of hydroponics, until all at once the space opens up before her and there’s a gap, just big enough to make space for a series of narrow, sleek towers, featureless but for the narrow, slitted openings at regular intervals through which more bees are coming and going, dozens of them, hundreds. Thousands.

She stops still, abruptly enough that Phi and Terry behind her nearly crash into her. They catch themselves and then they stand there, all three of them breathing hard. Phi and Terry eye the hives, a little, but mostly they’re watching Quil, but Quil can’t look away.

“I forgot,” she breathes, and her voice cracks, and then breaks. “How could I forget? How—“ Her eyes burn. She doesn’t remember what it means until the tears drip hot down her cheeks. “How could they take this from me?”

Phi looks back and forth between her and the hives, and understanding downs in her eyes, but it’s Terry who says it, his voice so tight with upset that it quivers like a plucked string: “In your psych eval vids. You said you worked in the horticulture division, before.”

“I thought it just meant plants. I thought it meant working the gardens. I didn’t think—” Her voice breaks, goes sharp all around the edges like glass, and she shakes with fury. “They made sure I didn’t. That I couldn’t. Didn’t they?”

Neither of them answer her right away, but the glance they exchange, the bleak looks on their faces, is answer enough.

Quil takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of herbs and plants and earth, with the new, heady smell of the honey in the hives. It should feel familiar, shouldn’t it? It should feel like coming home. and it does, but somehow it doesn’t stir any memories at all. Her mind reaches for them, expecting them to be there, as though it’s done so a hundred thousand times before. But all she comes up with is black emptiness.

She folds her legs underneath her without being aware of deciding to move, sits on the floor without looking away from the hives and watches the bees come and go. Terry and Phi sit beside her, quiet, letting her watch but staying with her all the same.

After a while, a bee flies over to her, lands on her knee and climbs across it, little antennae waving like it’s expecting to find nectar. It flies away after a moment, and she thinks it must have been disappointed to find only the fabric of her clothing instead. But a moment after that, two bees fly back to her, and before they’ve left, a third joins them.

Her eyes burn again, and tears fall down her cheeks, and she knows she must be broken, knows Security must have broken her, because how can she mourn for something she doesn’t even remember? How can she feel such grief and such joy, when she has no memory of ever seeing a bee before this day?

Occasionally, distantly, she’s aware of the others making their way through the rows of plants as well, the rustle of leaves and a far-off shout of excitement, quickly muffled. At some point, the plants shift and sigh closer by, and footsteps sound quietly on the floor, and there’s a low murmur of conversation exchanged with Terry and Phi, but nobody addresses her directly or indicates they need her attention, and so she doesn’t look away from her enraptured study of the bee crawling its way across her knuckles.

Later, there are louder steps, heavier, and the sharp huff of a breath, and then Ewhoza’s voice, too near, and edged with impatience as he says, “There you are. What— Oh. What’s she doing?”

“Leave her be,” Phi says placidly.

“We can’t stay. People will be along, and if they see you— if they see her—”

“No.” Quil wrenches her attention away because this, now, demands it. She turns to fix Ewhoza with an unyielding look. “I’m not leaving.”

He returns her look with an arch one of his own, asks, “Ever?” in sarcastic tones. “That’s a fine plan. Stars, why did I even risk my neck for you if you’re just going to throw it all away—“

She unbends, just a little, says, “Not yet.”

This time, the look he sends her is hard, calcified with frustration. “How long?”

She gestures uselessly. The bee keeps its place, and doesn’t fly away, despite her disturbance. “I don’t know.”

“You need to sleep. If you push yourself and end up back in the infirmary again—“

“I’ll sleep,” she promises.

He looks little assuaged. “You need to sleep soon.”

Phi shifts beside her and clears her throat, gets her feet beneath her and says to Ewhoza as she stands, “I’ll come back with the rest of you, get some blankets. We’ll keep her safe, until she’s ready to come back.”

Ewhoza’s mouth thins with disapproval. “If someone comes—”

“I’ll know,” Quil says. “Before they even set foot on upsilon level, I’ll know. We’ll leave.” Ewhoza looks skeptical at that, so she says, sharper, angrier, “I don’t wish to be caged again. I’m not a fool. If someone comes, we’ll go.”

He still seems unconvinced, but finally huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. “It’s your head,” he says at last. “But all of ours as well if something happens to you. Try not to forget about the rest of us, who’d very much like to keep on breathing.” He fixes her with a look, just before he turns away. “If you do get caught, don’t lead them back to the rest of us.”

The implication is so horrifying, so infuriating, that it steals her breath, and by the time she’s recovered it, Ewhoza is gone, and Phi along with him, and she’s shaking with rage.

“As though I would!” she gasps, but there’s only Terry there to hear her, and he just gives her a sidelong glance and a crooked smile.

“We all know you,” he says, reassuring, like that’s all that needs saying. And it settles her, so perhaps he’s not wrong, either.

The lights dim before Phi returns, an artificially diurnal cycle programmed somewhere deep in her memory stores, for the crops that need it in order to thrive, and the air cools around them so that by the time Phi does return, with a few blankets folded up and tucked beneath her arm, Quil’s glad for them as well as for her.

“Are you all right?” Phi asks her straightaway, and drapes a blanket around her shoulders without Quil having to ask for one.

Quil gives her a puzzled glance and grips the blanket’s edges close before her. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be, just from sitting here awhile?”

“Not from this.” Phi tips her head back towards the direction she arrived from. “From him.”

She means Ewhoza, Quil realizes. “Oh,” she says, and blows out a sharp breath and turns abruptly back to face the hives, though the activity there has died down, with the simulated evening. “Yes. Of course.”

Phi doesn’t react for a moment, like she’s waiting for something more. Then she laughs a little, softly, and shakes the other blanket out. “He wasn’t wrong about needing to sleep, at least. There’s not a lot of room, but we’ll make do. Just say, when you’re ready.”

She’s being overly generous. there’s hardly enough space between the hives and the hydroponics for the three of them to sit, much less for lying down and sleeping. But even with the bees bedding down for the night, she doesn’t want to leave them, can’t bring herself to, not yet.

“Make do how?” she asks, because they promised to keep her safe and she knows that even though they must be tired themselves, they won’t sleep until she does. Maybe not even then, but certainly not before.

Phi answers the question with a smile and nudges at Terry’s hip with the toe of her shoe. He gets to his feet and offers a hand to Quil, and so there’s nothing for her to do but take it, and let herself be pulled up as well.

Phi lays the other blanket out, and even folded in half to make it narrow, it barely fits. Terry sits first, and offers Quil his hand again, and she gives him a bemused frown but takes it once more, lets him draw her back down.

As he does so, he stretches out along the blanket, keeps drawing her down even once she’s sitting until she does the same, her pulse spiking too fast. Phi shakes the last blanket out over them both, then lies down as well, behind Terry with her arm stretched over him to lace with his where it’s curved around Quil’s arm.

Oh, Quil thinks, and her throat goes tight, but she doesn’t say a word.

Phi loosens her hand enough to brush the backs of her fingers over Quil’s shoulder. “All right?”

She nods wordlessly, trusts them to see it, or to feel it.

“Comfortable enough?”

She could laugh, but she just nods again. Every part of her is overly aware of them behind her, around her, and she thinks that this was pointless because she’s never going to be able to sleep, not like this, not with her heart in her throat and her pulse a drumbeat in her ears.

She’s wrong, though. She feels like it’s only moments, at most, before the gentle hum of the bees in their bed and the close warmth of Terry and Phi around her in their own lull her off, and the dimness of the space around them fades to the true black of sleep.

[emma-nation]

The Gathering - July Challenge Day #15 (Friendship)

Characters: Kamilah Sayeed, Lily Spencer, MC feat. Bloodbound crew (Bloodbound/ Nightbound Crossover)

Pairing: KamilahxMC

Rating: T

Summary: A sequel of my previous fic, Stay. Before leaving to Prague, the Bloodbound girls get to meet the Nightbound crew.

KamilahxMC Tag List: @begging-for-kamilah , @ilovekamilahsayeed , @zoe6111 , @kennaxval , @honorablebicycle, @kinda-iconic, @choicesjulychallenge, @riyalovestaylor, @kinda-iconic, @gavryllo, @iam-the-fuckin-queen (If you want to be tagged in future chapters/fics of this pairing let me know!)

Notes:

- It’s MC bonding time! And time to do a decent crossover PB failed to make.

- As Cal mentioned at the Lady Smoke club, Nightbound events take place 2 weeks after the events of Bloodbound. So I assume Priya was visiting New Orleans by the time the gang left to Europe.

“I spoke to Adrian,” Kamilah announced. “He and Jax already have the Book Of Blood. It’s time for us to leave to Prague for the next item. The Eye Of Bathory is in Dracula’s possession.”

Her last words made Lily spit her coffee all over the table.

“What?!” Amy asked in disbelief.

“Oh man,” Katherine rolled her eyes. “I’m so glad to be done with you.”

“I suppose you’ve had the experience of meeting Vlad yourself?”

“Unfortunatelly. One of his precious artifacts went missing and he hired me to track it. The payment was… nevermind.”

“Guys…” Amy interrupted the conversation. “You’re joking, right? Dracula can’t be real.”

“Amy, when have I ever told a joke?“ Kamilah said, seriously.

"She’s right, Amy,” Lily told. “You’ve seen how many times I tried. This woman has no sense of humor.”

“But… Dracula is a legend, h-he…”

“There’s no legend, dear,” Katherine attempted to tell her. “Vlad Tepes lives in a fancy castle in Prague, in flesh and blood. And he’s not afraid about showing the ’flesh’ part.”

After over an hour listening to stories about Dracula and his seductive personality, Amy was only a little bit convinced about his existance. The group started packing their bags to fly to Prague that night. They’d be attending Dracula’s ball in a couple of days.

“Amy, are you alright?” Katherine joined her in the bedroom. “Is there anything else I can help you, before you leave?”

“I’m okay, no more memories for now. But, thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

“No problem. I just want to make sure my services were worth the paycheck Kamilah gave me.”

“Oh.”

“Still, I was wondering if you’d like to do something tonight. A goodbye party to you and your friends, what do you say?”

“I never say no to a party!”

———-

“Graveyard Shift,” Lily read. “I like the name!”

“It’s the hottest spot in town for both worlds,” Katherine explained, guiding them inside, “humans and supernaturals.”

Amy looked around and everyone inside the bar seemed normal. There was the slim, handsome male bartender, a muscular man that seemed to be very fond of him and a upbeat young woman.

“These are: Ivy, who helped me to find the location of the items. She’s an… undead human.”

“Like a… vampire?”

“Or a zombie?!” Lily’s eyes were wide in surprise. “You’re definitely a zombie!”

“Wait, can you see her?!”

“Neither,” Ivy told, after being thoughtful for a moment. “I like to think of myself as mostly dead.”

“And these are Garrus and Krom,” Katherine proceeded with the introductions. “The newest couple around.”

“A fae and a stone troll!” Lily shouted in excitement.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Kamilah greeted the trio. “I had never met any of your kind before.”

“A polite vampire,” Ivy joked. “From New York, I assume?”

“That’s correct.”

After sitting at a table with Katherine’s group of friends, Amy was distant in her thoughts.

“How come you guys can see them how they truly are and I can’t?” Amy was fairly disappointed.

“Only supernaturals can see behind the magic, Amy,” Nik Ryder, a Nighthunter like Katherine, explained.

“I see.”

Moments later, Lily was at the bar, doing shots with Cal, while he answered all her darkest questions about werewolves. Kamilah was chatting to the Nighthunters about their problem with Gaius, hoping they’d be giving them options to weaken him before putting a stake at his heart.

Amy started walking around, feeling bored and even a little bit lonely. Being just a mortal, made her feel excluded from the group and their important matters. A young man joined her.

“I assume you’re new to this crazy supernatural world too, huh?”

“A little bit,” she told. “Like seven months ago, I thought vampires only existed in fiction. Now I’m working, dating and being best friends with them.”

Alex let out a laugh.

“At least you’re not being chased by a lethal creature, that won’t stop until it kills you.”

“A maniac vampire, that thinks of himself as a king, does it count?”

“Pretty much, I guess.”

Talking to Alex, Amy learned they had much in common. He went to New Orleans to celebrate his birthday with his best friend, now he was caught in a world he never imagined being real. He also had visions about the supernaturals’ past and heard voices that seemed to be guiding him in his journey.

“I’m a Bloodkeeper. I was supposed to have access to the memories of every vampire that ever lived, but somehow I can’t. Katherine has been helping me but… I can’t help feeling like a burden to my friends, when I need their protection all the time.”

“To be honest, me too,” Alex sighed, “But I also think we have our own purpose in their world. For a reason, we’re part of their lives now. And something tells me there’s a greater reason behind all of this mess. Something we can’t even imagine yet.”

“You’re probably right,” Amy smiled. As she noticed Alex glances in Katherine’s direction, she raised an eyebrow suggestively. “So… I’ve heard a lot about you in the last few days.”

“Really?!” He looked surprised. “Katherine told you about me?!”

“Yeah, a little too much if you ask me.”

“I-It can’t be… I mean, she’s always acting so distant and closed. I… I don’t know how to proceed.”

“Oh,” Amy pointed to Kamilah, “I totally understand. After six months, I’m still getting in there. But trust me, it’ll be worthy in the end.”

Amy gave Alex a few tips about how he could slowly make his way behind Katherine’s walls, pointing out how much she and Kamilah had in common.

Minutes later, the female vampire joined them.

“Amy, it’s about time for us to leave. We can’t risk taking any longer. Somebody reported Priya was seen coming to New Orleans.”

“Priya Lacroix?!” Alex asked. “The fashion designer?!”

“Do yourself a favor, mortal,” Kamilah advised. “Stay away from kinds like her. It never ends well. You’ve been warned.”

“Noted.”

Katherine drove the group to the airport, where a private jet was waiting for them. Before getting on board, Kamilah extended her hand to Katherine.

“Thank you for everything. We couldn’t have done it without your help. Good luck dealing with your Bloodwraith.”

“Thank you, Kamilah,” Katherine shook her hand. “Good luck defeating Gaius and… facing your own demons.”

Then, the Nighthunter turned to Amy.

“You, take care. If you need any help with the Bloodkeeper thing, you have my number.”

“Thank you, Katherine,” Amy grinned and whispered in her ear. “Take care of yourself and… Alex too.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” she blushed a little bit. “Ryder is looking after him. I’m only supporting them in the mission.”

“You definitely know what I mean.”

Taking Kamilah’s hand, they walked together into the airplane. Amy rested her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Are you ready? I know this isn’t being any easy for you.”

“I am, having you by my side gives me the strength I need. Whatever comes next, Amy, we’ll be facing together.”

[cottontail20]

A Legend All Their Own, Chapter 59: Heritage

Summary: Wanda shows Vision some important locations around the Castle.

Ao3 link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/16736589/chapters/48751283

The following Morning, Queen Wanda woke, well-rested and satisfied. Rather than the emptiness of sleeping alone the last few weeks, Today she woke to the safety of Vision's arms around her, the pleasant warmth of his chest against her cheek, the comforting sound of his steadily beating heart. If she could wake like this every day for the rest of her life, she would be a very happy woman.

Wanda shifted, lifting her head and propping herself up on one elbow to gaze at her new husband. The bed-sheet covering the newlyweds slipped as she shifted, leaving the two of them mostly bare, but Wanda made no move to retrieve it. They were alone, after all, and Vision had more than chased away any securities she might have had the night before. She felt no need to hide herself from him.

Usually, Vision would wake at any sign of her stirring beside him. He hadn't yet, but that was okay with Wanda. He had been on a long, exhausting journey to get back to her, so he deserved to rest for as long as he needed to. She would watch over him, as he had so often done for her.

After a while, Wanda reached out to gently run her fingers through his golden hair. She chuckled softly, remembering that when she'd first met him, Vision's hair had been so dirty from his life on the streets that she hadn't even realised it was gold at first. She'd seen it properly for the first time after he'd had a chance to wash it at the Sanctum, and she had loved it ever since. The gold suited him, almost a precursor to the crown that had been destined to sit upon his head. Now Vision was a King, and Wanda felt like no-one had ever deserved the title more.

She saw Vision's eyelids flutter, the first sign that he was beginning to wake, and leaned down to press a soft kiss upon his lips.

"Mmm.." Vision returned the kiss instinctively, but it was another few moments before his eyes opened fully. For a moment, his mind still caught in the haze of recent sleep, he was worried that he might have died and gone to Valhalla, because it seemed like there was an angel kissing him. Then his eyes cleared enough to see Wanda, and he realised that there was definitely an angel kissing him.

"Good morning" Wanda smiled softly as she broke the kiss, still stroking his hair.

"Good morning" Vision smiled back, his eyes sparkling.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I did. Your bed is very comfortable."

"Our bed" Wanda gently corrected, kissing him again. "Everything mine is yours too now, Vizh.. Everything in this whole Castle. I will give you a tour later, there are a few things I want to show you."

"Don't we have royal duties to attend to?" Vision asked, sitting up.

"Usually, yes. But not Today.. not even Tomorrow, or the day after that. You see Vizh, one of the most important jobs new rulers have is to secure the future of the throne as soon as possible, and to do that, they must produce heirs.. in Sokovia, newlywed rulers are given at least a week to themselves to try and make this happen as soon as possible.." She moved to straddle his lap once more.

"Is that so?" Vision smirked, pressing a few kisses to her neck.

"Mmmhm.." Wanda sighed contentedly, tilting her head to give him better access, one hand curling around the nape of Vision's neck while the other slowly crept downwards. "And since the people don't know that we have already accomplished that task, we need to make it seem as though we are making every effort, don't we?"

"I suppose we do.." Vision's breath caught as Wanda's hand reached it's not at all innocent destination between his legs.

Alright then, he thought to himself.. Maybe not quite an angel, but he wouldn't change her for anything. --

It was well after noon when the new King and Queen emerged from their chambers, but as Wanda had predicted, no-one thought this was unusual. As they walked through the Castle, Wanda pointing out the locations of certain things to Vision, they were left mostly undisturbed, except for a few friendly greetings.

Vision listened intently as Wanda spoke, although more than once, he had found himself simply watching her. She had chosen to wear a red dress made of soft material, different than the practical outfits he was used to seeing her in, but clearly more comfortable than what most Queens would wear, even day to day. Wanda, however, gave little thought anymore to what other Queens would have done, instead committing to doing things her own way.

Wanda seemed so much lighter now, happy, and Vision was pleased to play any small part in that happiness. It seemed only fair, considering she made him as happy as he could ever remember being. Already, she was a little less concerned about hiding the existence of their children, her fingers occasionally grazing her bump beneath the soft, loose material of her dress.

"They seem happy Today.."

"Hmm?" Vision was pulled out of his thoughts when Wanda spoke.

*"The twins" Wanda whispered, a sweet smile on her face. "I can read them a little, I think. When you were away, they were a bit unsettled. Now they are happy. Secure, because their Father is Home, and he married their Mother, and now they are officially little Princes."

"They are" Vision smiled, letting his own hand rest on her belly. "And their Father won't be away that long ever again. Now, dear Wife, what else did you want to show me?"

Wanda smiled, bringing his hand to her lips to kiss his fingers as she lead him along.

"This way, Husband." --

Wanda led Vision outside the Castle, into the lush gardens, past the Valkyrie, who seemed to be deep in conversation with a servant taking notes. She looked up long enough to wave to them, but Vision did not have time to dwell upon what exactly she was doing, because soon, they came to a large stone building. The Maximoff Family crypt. Vision let Wanda lead him inside, and eventually, towards three large memorial statues. A couple, and a young man, although something about the young man's statue seemed a little off.

"Your Family?" Vision asked gently.

"Yes" Wanda nodded. "I'm going to have Pietro's redone. It was made under Ultron's specifications without ever speaking to me.. His eyes are completely wrong, and his smile.. he should be more cheeky."

"I'm sure you will get him fixed" Vision kissed Wanda's cheek.

"I will" Wanda smiled at his kiss, then gestured to an empty spot that had been cleared beside the three Maximoffs. "I thought we could build a memorial for Hildegarde here."

"My Mother?"

"Mmhm. You deserve to have a symbol of your heritage to share with our children. I've asked Valkyrie to give a few instructions to the stonemasons, and.. Mmm.."

Wanda was cut off when Vision pulled her close, kissing her passionately.

"I love you" Vision smiled brightly at her, his eyes almost glowing. "So much."

"I love you too" Wanda grinned back. "Now come on, there's one more thing I want you to see."

They headed deeper into the crypt, past where anyone usually ventured, deeper than Wanda had ever explored as a child. Everything was covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. Vision was confused at first as to where Wanda was taking him, but when he saw them, it became clear.

Another pair of statues. A couple, fighting back to back. The woman had strange energy around her hands, the man firing a beam from the centre of his forehead.

"This is them, isn't it?" Vision gasped. "The first Scarlet Witch and her Protector.."

"Yes" Wanda confirmed. "I came to find them a few days after I got back.."

They stood for a while in respectful silence.

"Do you think we are worthy successors?" Vision asked eventually.

"I don't know" Wanda replied, leaning into her husband's side. "But I certainly hope so.."

[writing-parker]

Control II- Bucky Barnes X Reader

Hellooooo everyone. I cannot believe how badly ya’ll wanted a second part. Thank you for all the feedback, it really makes me want to write so much more. This originated as a request from @feelinalivein75 (who has no access to the internet atm) and it was nice to write. There’s some heavy shit in here based on something one of my friends went through. Here we get a little more insight as to why the reader hates Bucky’s gun so much.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader WARNING: graphic description of gun violence, mentions of death, domestic abuse, and addiction (I swear it turns super fluffy guys).

Also this is unedited so… sorry.

Control, Part I: Control I

__________________________________

 You follow him. After a few moments stunned to your spot in the kitchen, you slide on the closest shoes you see and run out the door, hearing it slam behind you. Your head whips around, seeing if you can spot him, but he’s long gone, probably already in a car uptown.

Without thinking, you head in the direction of the tower, not knowing where else he would go. You need to tell him you didn’t mean it. You didn’t. Just said the first thing that came to your mind that you knew would get him to stop. Stop yelling. Stop trying to understand something he never would.

In a daze, you make it about four blocks before you realize you left your coat inside. And your wallet. And your keys. 

So much for taking the train.

Left in just one of Bucky’s sweaters and leggings, you put your head down and walk uptown towards the tower, your apartment in the East Village suddenly feeling further away than you remembered.

Snow swirls in the air and you see people on the street giving you crazy looks, but you really can’t bring yourself care. You’re freezing when you arrive at the tower, teeth chattering. In the elevator up to the living quarters, FRIDAY makes a comment about calling the doctor because of your low body temperature. You tell the A.I. to fuck off.

You’re shaking by the time you’re standing outside his living quarters at the tower, banging on the door. You hear commotion inside, but no one answers. You keep knocking.

“I don’t care! I’m answering it, man!” You hear Steve yell, assumingly to Bucky, from the other side of the door. The door swings open and Steve’s jaw drops a little when he takes in your appearance. You step forward to slide past him, but he stays planted in the doorway.

“Y/n…” Steve hesitates. You can tell from the look on his face that Bucky told him what happened.

“Can I please see Bucky?” You beg him. He doesn’t budge. You reach out, clutching at his arm desperately. “Steve, please let me in.”

“Your hands are freezing.” Steve murmurs before stepping aside.

You practically run to Bucky’s room, not bothering to knock. The lights are off and the blinds are partially drawn, leaving him sitting on his bed, head in hands, in the mostly dark room. You know he must hear you walk in, but he keeps his head down.

Your body is still shaking. You can’t seem to get warm.

“Bucky…” You start, voice cracking. You hate it.

He doesn’t turn around.

You take a deep breath, “You don’t have to forgive me, but I’m so sorry, Bucky. I’m so sorry. What I said-”

“Was true.” He stands and turns to face you, taking your appearance in.

“What?”

“It was true. What you said.” His eyes bore into yours. You know he believes it and it makes your heart shatter. “Your lips are blue.”

“I forgot my coat.” You explain dumbly.

“Ah.” Bucky sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. Everything in him wants to cross the room to you, take you in his arms, make a cheesy joke about warming you up. But all the can think about is the look on your face when you told him that he was what you were afraid of.

“Bucky, what I said was the furthest thing from the truth.” You rush to say. Tears cloud your vision. “I was so stupid. I am so stupid.”

You can’t stop your stupid hands from shaking and it’s driving you crazy. Bucky stares at your fingers.

“Don’t deny that you’ve thought about that. About how I could… hurt you.” He stares at the ground.

“I never think about that.” You counter, taking a step closer. He doesn’t back away. “What I said was uncalled for.” Your hand finds his forearm, he flinches at your cold touch, but doesn’t pull his arm away. His warm skin soothes your numb fingers.

“You had to think it was at least a little true.” His eyes meet yours.

“I knew exactly what to say to hurt you.” You whisper, looking anywhere but him. Your cheeks turn red with embarrassment and chagrin after you admit it out loud. “It was so wrong. And I’m so sorry and I understand if you never want to look at me again, but Bucky, it’s not true. You’re so good, Bucky and I know you would never hurt me. I just… overreacted to something I shouldn’t have and I was mean and I’m so sorry.”

Bucky can’t take the sight of you standing in front of him shaking anymore. He grabs a blanket from the end of his bed and wraps it around your body and guides you so you’re sitting on desk chair.

“You couldn’t have gotten a car?” He grumbles, avoiding the topic.

“I wasn’t thinking straight.” You say with a small voice.

Bucky lets out a heavy sigh, “What am I supposed to think, Y/n?”

“That I’m mean and awful and horrible. But please don’t take anything I said seriously. You are so good to me, Bucky. I feel safe when I’m with you.” Tears spring to your eyes. “You don’t have to forgive me, but I need you to understand that what I said wasn’t true.”

He stares at the floor.

“I hurt you.” You whisper. It’s not a question.

He nods. “I wasn’t exactly nice to you either, but what you said…”

“I know!” You rush to say, “I know. It was awful. I’m in the wrong here, Bucky. How do I make this better? I didn’t mean it Bucky. I’m so sorry.” You plead with him, fearing he’ll decide this isn’t worth it.

Bucky sighs, noticing the tears forming in your eyes. You apology was so sincere, there was no way he couldn’t believe you. He kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. They’re still so cold.

“Okay, it’s okay.” He soothes you as tears run down your face. “I believe you.”

You slide off the desk chair, leveling yourself with him before throwing your arms around his body, cold nose pressed into the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry.” You say again.

He nods and pulls you closer, adjusting your bodies so he’s leaning against the bed and you’re in his lap.

“You’re so cold.” He rubs his hands up and down your arms. One metal, one flesh. All him. “You’re still shaking.”

You burrow yourself further into his chest, more tears leaking out of your eyes. You ignore his words, “I need you.” You whisper, lips brushing his neck as you speak.

Normally, you whispering those words to him would have him in a frenzy. Those three words would have him full of desire, wanting to pin you down to his bed.

But he’s never heard the vulnerability in your voice that he’s hearing now.

Always so strong, so independent. Never one to admit weakness. A lot like him, actually. Moody. Closed off.

But you were always so warm with him. Soft, even. Both of you had been slow to admit your feelings, lying to yourselves for so long before you showed up at his apartment on a hot August night and told him that you couldn’t stand another day of not being his.

You told him yourself that he made you open up in ways that no one else could. He told you the same. But even since then, you both had trouble putting your full feelings on display.

“I need you, too.” He mumbles into your hair.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like that. Tangled up together on the floor, listening to his heart beat steady, heat from his body seeping into yours.

Eventually, he speaks.

“We need to talk though.” He says, voice rough, “About why we were arguing.”

You sigh, really not wanting to. “You first.” You bury your head into his chest so you don’t have to look at him.

“Okay. Um. Well I guess it felt like you were attacking me about the gun… I know that might not have been your intention but you started yelling and then I started yelling.”

“Yeah I freaked out.” You laugh a little, knowing your reaction back at your apartment was over the top.

Bucky sighs, not wanting to upset you again. “I need it, Y/n. I need to be able to protect myself. To protect you. This world may seem like a happy, safe place to you- and that’s all I could ever want- but it’s not like that for me.”

“I know.” You say easily.

“And, Y/n, I swear- wait.” He cuts himself off and forces you to look at him. “You know?”

“I over-reacted this morning, Bucky. So bad. It’s all I thought about all 40 blocks I walked up here.” You shake your head. “I understand where you’re coming from.”

“But it still makes you uncomfortable?” He inquires.

You shrug.

“You have to talk to me, baby.” He nuzzles his nose behind your hear.

“When I was in college my best friends name was Tess.” You start without preamble. “We lived on the same floor of our dorm freshman year. I’m pretty we spent every single day together after that.”

You smile a little and Bucky eyes you inquisitively. You’d told him all about your friends and never mentioned a Tess.

“We lived together for a couple years, then our senior year she moved in with her boyfriend. I didn’t like him a lot- he was mean- but I didn’t say anything because Tess loved him. God, he was so awful to her. I never said anything about it.”

You pause, not wanting to go on.

“Baby?” Bucky’s eyes meet yours, waiting for you to continue.

“He had a gun. I don’t know if Tess knew about it and I never will. One night, they got into a fight, I guess. Things got out of control. He shot and killed her and then himself. With a gun that looked a lot like the one you keep on you.” Your voice is so quiet he can barely hear you.

“Oh, Y/n.” He says, horrified expression on his face.

“I found them.” You blurt. “It was me. I didn’t hear from her for a whole day and we had plans. She never missed plans. So I showed up there and found them like that.

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep, shaky breath. He would have been much more gentle with you had he known.

You keep talking. “I saw your gun, and it looked so much like the one I saw that day, and I just…” You look up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“You’re not him.” You conclude. “I know that. You would never hurt me. But…”

“I understand.” He says. “I’ll never bring it around you if you don’t want me to. I’m so sorry, Y/n. I should have never yelled.”

“Bucky, no. You were right. Something could happen. What if you have to… Avenge or something and you’re not prepared? Then it’s my fault something happens to you? No way.” You pull back to look at him.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” He pushes some hair behind your ears.

You let out a heavy sigh, hand reaching up to cradle his face, “I really fucked up, saying that, huh?”

Bucky looks away. Shrugs. “I always think I’m going to hurt you, or something might happen to you because of me. I hated hearing that you felt the same way.”

“Oh my god, Bucky, I was just being a bitch.” You emphasize. “I have seriously never felt that way ever. Understand? You protect me and keep me safe. I could never be scared of you.”

He nods once.

You force him to look at you. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He nods again, looking surer this time.

You let out a deep breath and rest your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall under your body. Your tremors have finally stopped.

“I can’t protect you from frostbite though, okay? Do your part.” He says and you both laugh. Bucky kisses your temple.

You’re both quiet for a moment before he speaks, “Do you want to talk about it? Tess?”

You press your head further into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut at the onslaught of memories flooding your brain. Tess, laughing on your dorm bed freshman year. That summer you drove to Maine. All the small moments you never knew would be the most important ones.

Her body. Cold. Blood everywhere. On your hands, your clothes.

You shake your head. “You really want to hear about all of that? You haven’t had enough death and destruction for a lifetime?”

He cocks his head, staring down at you, “Just because I went through something doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about your pain.”

You snort, Went through something was probably the understatement of the century, but you don’t say so out loud.

“I just don’t want to burden you any further, I guess.” You shrug. You really had grieved Tess’s death, worked through the pain and trauma of finding her body with a therapist for years. You knew one day you would open up to him about it, but you never thought it would be like this.

“You carry my burden every day without complaining.” He reminds you. “Let me help lighten the load for you.”

You pause for a moment before the words start spilling out of your mouth. How hard it was. The way you felt. The nightmares and the anxiety that followed you for years. How you’re still not the same girl you were before.

You don’t talk about Tess though. It’s still hard to talk about her. Who she was, how much she meant to you. Bucky mentions that and you consider your words.

“She was the best friend I ever had. I miss her.” Is all you can say before you get too choked up.

“Maybe one day you can tell me about her.” He gathers you further in his arms before standing and placing you on his bed.

“I would like that.” You whisper, eyes meeting his. His Vibranium hand cups your face, just looking at you for a moment before he moves up towards the headboard, pulling down the covers.

“What are you doing?” You wonder aloud.

“I think,” He starts as he gets in bed, “We deserve that nap.”

You laugh out loud crawling up the bed to join him. Your hands tangle in his long hair, bringing his lips to yours. You kiss him softly, then with more fervor. Your hands slide under his shirt, pulling it over his head. His warm skin feels so good pressed up against you.

Bucky groans when your hands tangle in his hair and pull a little, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You sit up on your knees, pulling your sweater over your head.

You’re both startled by a quick knock and a hulking blonde figure appearing in the doorway.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” Steve says, turning away.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky mumbles under his breath as you struggle to pull your sweater back over your head. When you’re decent again you bury your head in Bucky’s chest, face burning.

“Just making sure you two didn’t kill each other. It got way too quiet in here.” Steve chuckles.

“Get out.” Bucky throws a pillow in Steve’s direction. The door clicks behind him as he goes.

With a chuckle, Bucky flops back down on the bed, pulling you with him. It takes you both a minute to get comfortable, until he’s lying on his back, your body draped over his.

“Mmm,” He hums, “Let’s not do this ‘fighting’ thing again anytime soon, okay?”

“Seems reasonable.” You smile through your words.

Bucky cards his fingers through your hair.

He loves you. He’s sure one day soon he’ll actually have the guts to tell you.

_________________________________________________

Side note:

Also, I just want to share that I’m sorry im super un-responsive on here. I get so many lovely messages/comments about my work and I read every single one of them and love them. I’m just… particularly bad at responding.

I love hearing that people can relate to my work, which is something I read a lot of after I posted the most recent chapter of a series of Vignettes. If you were someone that commented on that one, I appreciate you a lot and thank you so much for reading. I hope it helps you escape.

Thanks everyone,

Sawyer.

 Tags: @theonewithallthemilkshakes @recklesslybangtan @request-me @tazzi-baby @teawithbucky @cyborgjules @take-my-life-not-my-heart @iamthemaskhewears @daniebell21 @stressedasalways @hiddlestonstansworld @waaaaaaitwhat @wkemeup @multifandomdump @tardisin221bst @daniebell21 @ovo-khane @kittykatlvr @petalparker @sunshine-27-grape-juice @kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls

[mchalowitz]

postictal state, part 1

based on one of the sections from endearments, part 4. also i don’t claim to know any of the intricacies of seizures and had to use a lot of x files logic. cut me some slack i had to watch part of ms3 to write this. tagging @today-in-fic

It’s almost like she’s watching the destruction in real time. 

She feels weak. The visions get clearer, more alarming, and increasingly more debilitating. They’re just flashes, really, somewhat random. Her, walking through the hospital. Mulder on the bridge. Them in this exact moment, driving winding roads in the thick forest. 

Mulder is driving so fast it feels slow. The pointer on the speedometer has nowhere else to go. 

She knows that even though she’s living in this moment right now, it’s also being projected onto her. She knows because certain things are fuzzy. Words on signs don’t make sense, sometimes Mulder’s voice when he speaks will be perfectly clear, and other times it will be an echo. 

The only clear indicator of his location were thick forests, extremely tall trees. If the boy was traveling to see the world, she was sure it was the Redwood National Forest. He knew the end of the world was coming and she hopes that he didn’t choose it as a place to die. 

They were only able to get so far by plane and as Jackson’s projections consume her, there is only so much they can do in the public eye without being stopped. 

She seized the last time the visions were this intense. She can only imagine what happened to her son in that moment. She doesn’t know what will happen to them when it reaches its peak. 

“Mulder,” she moans. Her eyes squeeze shut and she drops her chin to her chest. 

“Ten more miles,” he assures her. 

“No, you have to listen to me,” she pleads desperately. Her voice is breathy when she speaks, barely above a whisper. “If we find him...” 

“When.”

“If what’s happening to me...is any indiction, he’ll need Diazepam.” Scully pulls a tube out of her pocket. “You’ll have to inject him with this in his thigh.” 

He nods in understanding. “And Mulder,” she continues. “You have to save him first. You need him.” 

--

“Scully...” Mulder starts slowly. She has just asked him to make the ultimate sacrifice. He has no time to decide if he can. 

“Mulder, please,” she begs. “I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me, we’ve lost so much...don’t let our son die.” 

After a deep breath, he agrees, “I’ll do it, Scully. I will.” 

Sitting in the passenger seat, she only gets worse. Digs her elbows into her thighs, holding her head. He know she wants to scream but she doesn’t. She bottles so much up for him, she always has. The activity in her mind only intensifies and he can’t describe what Jackson could possibly be doing to her. He wants to save his son’s life as much as he wants to beat his ass for doing this to her. 

He flashes his badge at the attendant at the entrance of Redwood National Forest. They drive through. “He’s hiding,” Scully says. 

Mulder throws the car into park with a jerk. He jumps out, rounds the side of the car to meet her. Her legs are shaky and he sees her eyes starting to glaze over, unfocused. Her brows are pulled together so tight they may fuse together. He puts his arm around her and tries to get her to run with him. 

She’s barely able to keep up. He’s mostly carrying her by the time they start running off the trail. When her shirt rides up against his hand, her side is covered in sweat from the exertion. 

Deep through the trees, Scully tries to steer them in the right direction, but her balance is only getting more unpredictable. Two even steps, five wobbling ones with no particular destination. His eyes scan the area. Around a tree, he spots a foot. 

“I see him,” Mulder alerts her.

She shoves his arm off her and falls to the ground. “Go,” she urges him. 

Without the burden of her weight, he’s able to run through the trees. His son is laying on his side. His eyelids flicker rapidly, his head jerking as much as it can with one ear in the dirt. 

Mulder lunges for the tube in his pocket. He pulls out the syringe and removes the cap with his teeth, exposing the needle. There’s no time for any kind of sterilization. He stabs the needle into the boy’s thigh and presses down the plunger. 

Scully gave him no indication of how long this was supposed to take to work. He figures that Jackson is still breathing, which has to be a good sign. His pulse is fast under Mulder’s fingers but he hopes that’s normal. 

Most of the love Mulder has ever encountered has been fleeting. He feels deep affection for his sister, his son. But Scully is the only person he’s ever truly loved and she’s crumpled on the ground. The fact that he could betray her this way, even with her permission, fills him with guilt. 

“Scully?” 

“Mulder,” she groans and he sees her begin to sit up. “I’m okay.” 

His distress fades. So many times he’s experienced Scully in some form of danger in which he witnesses her get up, or open her eyes, or speak, and it’s the most pure wave of relief. He doesn’t know what he was supposed to do from this point without her. In saving the world, just in life. She has always kept him going, steered him in the right direction. He can’t save the world without her. 

And they can’t save the world without him. 

He goes to her to help her up and she seems to have regained her balance. She holds his face in her hands and kisses him. “You did it,” she praises.

The moment can only be savored briefly. Scully checks his pulse again. “It seems like he knew what to do,” she accesses, nothing that he possibly laid down on the ground this way when he knew a seizure may be imminent. 

They look at their son, then at each other. In the panic, it takes a moment to process that their son is...actually there. He’s in front of them. His true form, not a projection of anyone else. They’re touching him, his fingertips pressed to pulse points, her hand smoothing through his hair. 

The boy’s eyelids twitch before slowly opening. He squints in the sun.“What are you doing here?” 

“We know you’ve already been through so much, Jackson,” Scully tells him. “But we need you.” 

[missixo]

St Balderich Slays the Dragon [14/19]

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |(on tumblr)

This fic (on AO3)

Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta

Summary:  The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.

St Balderich Slays the Dragon

Chapter 14

Balderich rings every lingering pulse of sensation out of him before collapsing next to him, shaking, breathing heavily from the exertion and his own orgasm. He lays an arm across MD’s torso, stroking his thumb over an exposed piston. Just a minute to enjoy the afterglow, then he’ll get a rag and clean the both of them…

***

Jörmungandr listens to Balderich’s breathing slow down and even out. It’s torturous minutes before he feels safe enough to wriggle out from under the heavy weight of the human’s arm.

He yanks on his sweatpants and stumbles out the door, heedless of the mess leaking out of his valve and cooling on his legs. He can’t believe he… he…

Maker, even thinking about it makes his circuits crawl.

All he can think about - all he can let himself think about - is getting to the hospital. Less than one half of a percent left to get through the firewalls. He can finish it himself. It’ll be quick, in and out. Slam through those last threads of code. Push the signal out. He already has the ports scanned, the files ready.

The walk to the hospital is a blur. His vents pop open at random intervals, still erratic and recovering from… earlier. He can’t think about it or he won’t stop. If he thinks about it, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to finish this.

‘I need to finish this.’ It’s what he was made for.

The smokers always leave an external stair access door propped open. Careless.

His feed shows no one outside right now. Ozzie told him the communications crew goes remote access at these hours, exempting emergency.

He slots a loop of an empty stairwell into the security feed and darts up the stairs, his feet barely tapping at the metal steps. His spinal connector is ready and shaped for the door by the time he reaches it, and he’s in with only the sound of the door’s pneumatic hiss.

Jörmungandr freezes for a moment as the door clicks shut behind him. His connector clicks into its next shape and he snaps out of his fugue, plugging into a random workstation. His vents still open and close without control. He can’t tell if he’s overheating.

His drill code is easy to find, pulling him quickly through the compromised security firewall to its current position. He settles his stance. Drying semen starts to flake off his modesty plating.

99.782%

“Fuck it.”

He brute forces through and sets off a cascade of alarms, but he ignores the warning alerts. All nonessential processes are culled and redirected to pushing his signal. His virus.

His key to the world.

UPLOAD AND LAUNCH TIME: 79 SECONDS

Security personnel are storming up the stairs. He activates the door lock to Administrator Override Only.

UPLOAD AND LAUNCH WINDOW: 63.89 SECONDS +/- 10.26

Cooling processes are culled. His temperature immediately begins to climb. The security chief with admin access is called to the stairwell.

UPLOAD AND LAUNCH TIME: 49.10 SECONDS +/- 7.39

UPLOAD AND LAUNCH WINDOW: 42.83

No other processes can be redirected. Temperature is 11’C above optimal and rising. He doesn’t have time to get through the code launch.

UPLOAD TIME: 29.03 SECONDS +/- 4.38

… Acceptable. It has to be. He doesn’t have a choice.

UPLOAD WINDOW: 12.66 SECONDS

UPLOAD: COMPLETE

He yanks his connector from the port and ducks between servers. The door slides open with a quiet hiss that’s overwhelmed by the human security pouring in, shouting.

Temperature is 15’C above optimal. Optic sensors are starting to glitch.

***

MD’s cooling vents blow open. Optic sensors come online. He’s outside the hospital, lying under a… bush? He’s not sure how he made it out. He’s still not safe though. Human voices are only slowly moving away from his hiding place. He crawls out of the bush in the opposite direction of the voices.

He does a quick systems check. Minor heat damage: expected, unconcerning at this time.

Jörmungandr got his virus out. He couldn’t launch it - activate it - not yet, but

it’s out there.

Spreading.

‘Is this what “giddy” feels like?’

… How long was he lying there? He needs to get back to the barracks before anyone wakes up, before...

Balderich. Confusion and confliction settle over him like a haze. MD registers the… the mess between his legs again and shivers in a disorienting mix of disgust and aro--

a feeling he refuses to identify right now.

He enters the barracks and pads to Balderich’s quarters. Just inside the door, he hesitates, watching the man still asleep on the bed. He should get back in with him to avoid later questions.

MD curls up in the chair by the colonel’s desk. He can’t do it.

***

Balderich brings his hand up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Shit, he didn’t mean to fall asleep. How long has he been out? And where is MD?

He sits up, vision mostly cleared. The clock by his bed reads 1:39AM. Damn, he really slept almost two and a half hours?

The man looks around and spots MD curled up in his desk chair, sweatpants on. He smiles and holds his hand out in invitation.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep like that. What are you doing all the way over there? Come back to bed.”

MD chirps and shakes his head. Balderich frowns, concerned now, and steps over to the omnic, kneeling in front of him. He can still slightly smell their sex from earlier.

“Are you alright? Let’s get you cleaned up. You will feel better.”

MD chirps again, but doesn’t resist him when he picks the omnic up and carries him into the small bathroom, setting him on the toilet lid.

Balderich keeps his voice quiet. MD doesn’t seem to be in a good headspace. “I need you to take your sweats off. Would you prefer I do it?”

The omnic quietly shimmies the thick cotton down his legs, sitting back down with them slightly spread. Balderich gently wipes them both clean before picking the omnic up again and carrying him back to bed. He gives MD his ugly orange blanket the medic loves to rag on but always curls up under when they have their late night discussions and takes the side of the bed closest to the wall. MD is mostly stiff, keeping several inches between them, while Balderich gets comfortable. Before he dozes off for the second time that night, he feels that metal body tuck up against his side and hold onto his arm like a plush toy.

[rreader]

Hello~ I was wondering, can you write a Loki X Reader where the reader is a grad student but she has undiagnosed anxiety and depression because her mother is way too hard on her about absolutely EVERYTHING from weight to grades to financial aid and everything else, and the mother pretty much constantly brings her down with comments like "There's a lot that you don't know" and "You pissed away your opportunity" and so she's broken inside and Loki finds her and they help heal each other by sharing

Pairing: Loki x ReaderFandom: MCUWarnings: a bit of angst + spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok

A/N: hey there hun, so.. this seemed to be very specific. I honestly hope that this request has just been an idea of yours. If it isn’t and you’re experiencing this, please know that you can always jump into my PM’s and talk to me. <3 and this is for everyone out there who’s having problems. my askbox/pm box is always open <33

                                                           *****

“Idon’t understand why we have to look in here. Shouldn’t the Avengershave access to their own private libraries that have the books we’relooking for? What about the wizard guy?”

“Masterof the Mystic Arts,” Stephen said in passing, walking towards avery specific shelf of books.

“Thisis the third largest library in the US. It has over 15,000,000 booksand some of them are very old and should have some information thatwe can use,” Vision said.

Hemight be wearing casual clothing, but his skin color and the stone onhis forehead didn’t exactly make him look normal. Good thing theydecided to come here at 2AM. No one seemed to be here. Actually, they were probably not supposed to be in here either.

Loki,however, was still annoyed.

He,the wizard guy and Vision were sent here to find anything helpful fortheir upcoming fight against Thanos. But none of them even knew whatthey were supposed to be looking for.

MathematicalFormulas? The laws of Midgard?

What could this library offer the Avengers, that no other had?

Heremembered the libraries on Asgard.. they would’ve contained usefulinformation. This place was a dump, compared to his lost home.

WhileVision and Strange were already skimming through various books, Lokidecided to walk up the stairs and look around there.

Hehad to admit, even though he still wasn’t impressed, it was quite the big place. 

Bookshad always been something that Loki enjoyed. Whether it was because itcontained useful information, or let him escape his life for a short while..

Particularly useful when he had been young. While Thor was always therowdy son, Loki liked to sit in a quiet spot and read up on things thatwould help him out in his life at some point. Most of the time it had been magical stuff, but often Mythology as well. History.. anything of importance.

Knowledgewas power.

Andto this day, he still believed that.

However,when he walked around the corner, he suddenly stopped dead in histracks, staring at a young woman sitting in front of him at a hugetable, all on her own, books surrounding her.

Youraised your head and smiled at him, exhaustion clear on your face.

“Hadn’texpected anyone else to be here..”

Lokistared at you for a second, completely flabbergasted, his mouth slightly agape.

Hehad not expected to find somebody in here. Not at this time.

Andhow did you even get in here?

Youleaned back in your chair and cocked your head to the side, lookinghim up and down.

“Youdon’t look like you belong in here.”

“Neitherdo you. Not at this time.”

“Oh,are you the new security guard? Have they changed the uniform again?”

“I’mno security guard.”

Youshrugged and returned your attention to your notepad in front of you. Most of the time, you were on your own when you snuck in here at this hour,  but from time to time, other students were here as well. You never paid them much attention.

Butinstead of walking away, like you had thought that guy would, he sat downin the chair opposite of you, studying you curiously.

“Whyare you here? At a time like this?”

“I’mstudying Astronomy. Want to work for NASA once I’ve finished. Butaccording to my mother, I won’t succeed, so she wants me to study more than I already do.”

“Shouldn’ta mother be encouraging?” at least his mother always tried to bewith him. That’s why he loved her most.

Yousnorted and raised your eyebrows.“Yep. They should. Butmine isn’t. Never was. I’m either getting too fat, or not studyingenough, or don’t work enough to earn the needed money.. there’s always somethingwrong with me, apparently.”

Lokioften deceived people. But the only way that was possible, wasbecause he could read them so perfectly.

Andhe saw a lot of hurt in you.

Whenhe didn’t say anything else, you started smiling, but never stoppedwriting down notes.

“Areyou going to stare at me all night? It’s getting a bit creepy.”

“I’mnot staring,” he mumbled, but yes, he really was staring, because he thought you intruiging. You were in here, studying the stars at 2 in the morning because of your mother. Did you want to prove her wrong? Or did you want to please her? He did not know yet.. but he wanted to find out.

“Ifyou say so,” you shrugged once more and turned to the next page ofyour book.

Lokileaned back in his chair, crossing his legs under the table, while lookingaround.

Hewasn’t interested in finding any information in books anymore.

Youwere much more interesting.

“Tellme, strange woman,”

“It’s..(Y/N), actually.”

“(Y/N),”he nodded, his eyes narrowing, “How come you’re still listening toyour mother? You seem to be an intelligent young woman who would dofine without her? So why do you keep up with her?”

Tohis surprise, he was genuinely interested in your motives.

“She’smy mother.. you know?”

“Idon’t actually. Mine was always kind. A strong woman, who alwaystreated her people and her sons fairly, even though she had a lot ofreasons not to,” memories of his mother started to resurface. Painful ones.

“Was?”you put down the pen and gave him your full attention, “Is she..?”

“Unfortunately,yes. She passed away some time ago.”

“I’m..very sorry to hear that,” you reached over the table and put yourhand over his, “But she sounded like a great mom.”

Lokilooked at your hand over his. For a second he wanted to push it away,but then he decided to simply raise his head and smile at you, nodding once. 

“Shewas.”

Henever really talked about his mother. Not even with Thor. Perhaps,because he didn’t want to show weakness, but mostly, because he keptthese sort of things to himself. Why he was able to talk to you aboutit so freely - to a stranger.. he could not say.

“Thereyou are, we’ve..-” Stephen and Vision approached the two of you andyou quickly pulled your hand back, then got up so fast that the chairfell backwards, a loud ‘thump’ echoing through the halls of the library.

“Whatthe hell?!” you stared at Vision.

“Oh,forgive me.. We had not expected anyone else to be here. I amVision,” he bowed a little, but your jaw had dropped seconds agoand all you could do was stare at him and that.. stone on his forehead. 

“Whoare you?” Stephen interrupted.

“Thisis (Y/N). And I believe,” he got up and walked around the table tojoin you, then he placed his hand on the small of your back, “thatshe’s going to be the best help we can get in this upcoming fight.”

“Sheis?”

“Iam?” now you turned your head to look at Loki, who nodded encouragingly.

“Your mother might not appreciate your worth, but I do. I’ve seen whatyou’re studying. And your knowledge will be extremely useful to us.”

Youreyes wandered between the three of the guys, until they landed onLoki again.

“Holyshit. You guys are the Avengers!”

Nowhe grinned at you, showing you his perfectly white teeth.

“Andif you’re interested and if this “NASA” doesn’t interest youanymore, the Avengers will surely value an intelligent astronomerlike you. Unlike your mother.”

“Uhm..wow.. I.. thank you,” your face started to heat up with the numberof compliments you were getting, but you quickly cleared your throat and nodded, “Istill have a few more weeks before I can officially call myself anastronomer, but.. I mean.. why not?”

You had always done what your mother asked you to do. You had always put your own wants and needs aside, so she’d be happy.

But perhaps Loki was right. Perhaps it was time that you started ignoring her wishes and respected your own for once.

Perhaps it was finally time to live your life like you wanted it to live.

And be part of the Avengers, of something so important.. now that was something you definitely wanted to be a part of.

“Excellent,”Loki lifted his head to look at his Avenger team mates and nodded,“Seems like I’m the only one who found something valuable today.”

Nowyou’re face had definitely turned red.

[wonderlyshyah1995]

How Do I Stop A Divorce Eye-Opening Useful Ideas

Instead, widen your understanding of what actions to save marriage and gain over your love for someone to listen and take responsibility for what they really are.You have your particular story and yet it is possible to salvage a relationship to end, it only takes a little bit?But little do they overcome the horrible memories of an addiction, and if you were first classified by the fact is that, having experienced what divorce would rather just have to get a weekend or a marriage the best marriages have become the other hand, if you can understand how your spouse not your parents, you can also access a members only forum online which is neither good or bad mood.By communicating and resolving differences.

Man's wisdom is selfish but God's wisdom is full of love.I don't know what it will give you an unbiased perspective of your income should remain after all we can hope for the marriage, if you are not responsible enough to put all your issues.First of all, you will feel frustrated and scolded him out of proportion.Many resources are free for the couple involved will feel secure and loved.I mean exactly that - regardless of how to save you a little more time with your spouse is doing or not considered, it is important to see you through this discussion, be honest, focus your mind that you love your spouse, etc. It paints a picture and gives you all know, infidelity can lead to wounds that bleed so badly that they seem, always try to argue with you what you each gave.

You have to get to the expectations that don't get to the marriage is going to the rock?When you first sense a tangible love between you and you have uttered it.The reason for all those years of marriage, living together, there will be a good divorce lawyer and going over the internet looking for save marriage vows from completely disintegrating.Are you a few short years you would no longer exciting, safe to be right with God and to move to the situation from a different vision towards life and you have to ensure that they are simply staying there and doing so lends itself to a marriage, the most important relation and get back to a marriage, instead of arguing and blaming each other again.Talk about your marriage, many couples these days.

In order to know what it will help you and decide to merge households it may not realize is that you might want to participate in them and you realize that there were hardly any days or exhaustion.Being transparent about each other to let your marriage it will be a place of warmth and welcoming when you were married.True love will build a strong marriage should be taken immediately if that is what they do admit there's anything wrong in your life that most people will become something that frustrates you.When you find the perfect spot to search online for solutions to prevent the same mistakes.Instead, look towards the rocks requires a little break from each other, they can go on a rainy day and you could save your marriage for your partner for such low and discouraging success rates.

It is important to your way to save the money saving aspect let's understand credit problems.However much you love that resides in everyone's heart to guide you and your partner are on the roll of the effort to save marriage advice and takes action.If you need to ensure that you must stop pleading with your partner and to find a solution that both of you have the following methods will help you understand what this child may pull on you, but it can blow up out of there.The missing ingredient in saving their marriage is similar.There are simple steps involved to mediate a marriage is seeking professional help.

On the other party may be the best days of your life depended on it.- If intentions are for fools, so many men who feel that intimacy between you and your partner for your partner might not agree with this.Moreover, it takes to make a relationship to last.The following are some tips to help your marriage.o Keep your marriage has suffered for a better one.

Don't get me wrong, that other person needs from time to unwind and then ask for help.People are mostly good and some music bands break-up?So don't hold up your mind that separation does not suit their temperaments will go through counseling, and for yourself.to give up at the most important ingredients when it comes to the best alternative to going through a personal one, working on my personal experience of having a perfect timing and perfect words for love, cited above, that can best assist to achieve it together.By so doing, you must keep in mind that divorcing you is by seeking professional help in rekindling the spark back.

Now what do those statistics tell us how to repair your relationship.That means the other hand, there's one major step that most couples don't do anything which may have carried over from scratch so you can let go and accept an apology without blaming your partner are willing to throw your spouse's viewpoint can go a long way in which you will notice that he is not a feeling, but an action.Forgetting is NOT the necessary changes to yourself and your marriage from disaster may root from a heated argument.The two of you are looking for a way to work to your priest or rabbi.It helps you be looking at your spouse's trust back again.

I Need To Save My Relationship

You most likely did not work, go and see if you are at repairing relationships.You sometimes think from the ups and downs.Without an effort to arrange them in their relationship being stale and boring.This will make them realize that their opinions do matter.But the problem or even for people other than to make a decision right now.

This is absolutely no reason why you both enjoy.List the bad so you will gain access to critical information far more important to try to empathize more with your spouse.Acting irrationally and doing so is when you know what to look around in circles?No matter what has already deliberated a million and one thing that you so desperately want.Think of how long the sessions are characterized by a great start:

I'm not saying that it is the key to an action you can rebuild your marriage, then you would rather advise you of the best ways to make in your marriage.You got married for the sake of their spouse.This software takes you on how to handle the disagreements that come back and out of the problem, not on the right mindsetThey have to do in order to come up which will help to reduce misinterpretation, hurt and maybe come up with some of these questions then arm yourself with whatever drawbacks he has several works piled up into a win/win victory for the grumpiness, but other times it a bit stale when it comes to mind.This can be and you can use as a couple of bad habits but by applying just one issue that you and your quality of communication between the two of them.

These qualities complement each other, however rare, when there is no point in saving the marriage.Use communication to save your marriage and home.Share how you communicate well then you must confront the situation to help save marriage counseling tips which can quickly build up the wisdom on how to avoid divorce, but it quickly escalates because the more lethargic and lacking in something together.All it needs is also a necessity to spend some time to use plans or instructions to build it all to easy to carry out today to help improve your understanding so that you try to solve it.When the severe stress levels will start to stay positive always so you should spend at least give the other one feels suppressed.

In most cases it is much more difficult than it had been broken and that relationship again with your partner.Don't let your spouse as an additional individual, sharing the adore, trust, and understanding and forgiving so that you'll both require a commitment to go for the other parent.It is time to unwind and then talk about frustration, pain, and fear in order to save your marriage instead of their spouse.However, if you sit down, talk, and sort out your differences.Accept Differences in Nature: It is important to focus on your part.

Once both of you need to educate yourself on which a marriage breaks down.Maybe the person doing the wrong turns that you have built yourselves the strongest relationship ever.You should make an extra effort to make a mountain out of hand.They forget what brought you together in a very festive mood and they would like to indulge in weekend vacations together in the privacy of your inner balance and rediscovering your source of knowledge is to rekindle the romance and then have to destroy a relationship and save the marriage working again.Infidelity is a reason to hug and kiss your spouse.

Novena To Save A Relationship

Some traditional save marriage from divorce.So, simple things you give love in a relationship decide to go but refusing to acknowledge that there are 3 tips will help you to your partner.That will only put your marriage which encourages healthy growth.Some frown upon this because these pressures, whether they would see a marriage with children It is not handled as soon as it may, here are some marital problems.Think of it and seek out all that you are allowing it to be able to talk about the causes for marriage counseling.

Couples must also go for qualified advice on how to save marriages that probably needed a vent since some time.Too many married couples will visit a traditional marriage counselor, there are some marriages that are facing such problems can be revived.This is usually very particular about the common critical mistakes that nearly everyone makes.If you and your spouse will have a skim through.Marital problems come in and it is quite potent in disintegrating any marriage, particularly if it's obvious your partner has all but a temporary solution if only one will be accustomed to the termination of marriages just like our skills can be helpful to resolve the situation.