#(almost like him sweeping both of them was a bad writing choice in the long run)

[vaugarde]

wait is eternatus just gonna be a villain again or is ash vs leon really gonna be a 6v7

[cow-smells]

You’re Mine [Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Reader]

Requests: 1. there’s a new girl on miyagi-do, she’s classmates with sam, hawk, miguel, tory, robby, demetri, etc... for some reason, she and hawk didn’t like each other (he can be on cobra kai or eagle fangs, that’s your choice), and one day they make a bet, which this girl wins. hawk has to be her slave for a whole week. BONUS IDEA: a stolen kiss during a fight. maybe admitting feelings for each other? i’d love that! ( @berriewrites​ ) 2. love the hawk smut but i’d also love some fluffy hawk about him secretly liking the reader who’s in miyagido but he tries to act all tough and hide it (anon) 3. AHHH CAN WE GET SOME HAWK FLUFF!? I love the idea where you swear that you don’t like him and you guys make eye contact from a distance when he’s standing with his friend group and you’re standing with yours and you get flustered and he can tell and he smirks and just ahh (anon)

A/N: this took so longggg this came out longer than expected (and honestly i could go on, but i wanted to get this out already) + real life has come hitting all at once and its been overwhelming lol. thanks for being patient and sticking around <3 i enjoyed writing some fluff (amidst a flurry of smut reuests loool :)

Words: 2981

Warnings: none

Read this on AO3

Summary: You don't like Hawk. He's a bad person, that much you know for sure. You're ready to make his life miserable when he loses a bet with you, but then you actually have to spend time with him...

   You didn't like this.

Forgiveness seemed to be a virtue that evaded you. Eagle-fang and Miagi-Do were uniting and everyone seemed to be all for the union – except for you.

Some things were simply unforgivable. For you, Hawk breaking Demetri's arm was one of them.

You and Demetri became nearly inseparable friends when you both joined Miagi-Do. He had told you all about his former friend Eli and how he'd abandoned him in the favor of bullying him in any way he could come up with; that bullying taking a turn to the extreme when Hawk took to breaking bones.

    Demetri had since forgiven him, but you hadn't.

Demetri had a softer heart than he let on, and he missed Eli terribly, so when the latter suggested they work together he gladly accepted.

But you were more objective about the situation, as you weren't a part of it, and forgiving such cruelty was beyond you.

    The one good thing about the dojos coming together was the intense dedication that grew on everyone. Now that you had a common enemy, many participants would hang around in Miyagi-Do's dojo long after training sessions, training until you could hardly move your limbs.

     The sun had ago long fallen when you and the remaining students took places around a mat, ready for the sparring session to begin.

With Daniel and Sensei Lawrence gone, you had taken to writing down names and pulling them out of a bowl to decide on sparring partners.

    All the negative emotions you felt channeled in to great excitement when Miguel called your name – followed by Hawk's.

You could have sworn you saw a look of something you couldn't read – concern, perhaps, or fear? Before he seemed to share your excitement as he stepped on to the mat with a grin that was almost predatory.

    Two could play at that game.

    “You're as good as dead,” you said, your voice dripping venom. Hawk's smirk just grew.

    “Is that so, princess? I'd like to see you score as much as a point.”

A light bulb lit in your mind.

    “Yeah?” you taunted. “What if I get three?”

Hawk laughed. “You got a lot of confidence, don't you? I'll tell you what. If you can score three points on me and win, I'll...” He bit his lip as he thought. “I'll let you boss me around for a week. Whatever you want.”

The blood rushed through your veins, ready more than ever to fight. You were grateful for the lack of your sensei, knowing this nonsense wouldn't stand if he were here.

    “Deal.”

    “Are you guys done?” Miguel huffed, standing between you two, ready to referee. “Good. Bow.”

    You bowed without intent and got straight to attacking. Hawk didn't expect it; he came from the dojo that prides itself on strike first and yours cared mainly about defense. You earned your first point within seconds.

    That only served to throw Hawk off his game further. He dived in right away for the attack and was caught unprepared when you fell, sweeping his leg.

    You earned your second point.

By that point, Hawk might as well have been fuming out the ears. His brows furrowed in anger as he looked at you like you were the most vile thing he had ever seen; that satisfied something within you.

    The flurry of hits and misses was so rapid you were caught unprepared when you managed to land a punch on Hawk, Miguel's voice rising as he named you victor.

    Hawk huffed, clearly exerted. You smiled. “You're mine.”

You were fully intending to use this bet to its full potential.

The next day was Saturday, and Hawk, true to his word, showed up at your doorstep at 9 p.m sharp, just as you had ordered.

You paid him no kindness when you opened the door, not exchanging a word with him before demanding: “Helmet?”

Hawk handed you a helmet, not looking particularly pleased about the situation but not being able to stop himself from taking in an eyeful of you anyway.

You needed a ride to tonight's party – that's where Hawk came in, beginning his work for you as a personal valet. Accordingly for the event, you were dressed meticulously, showing off your best features – and if you were to judge by Hawks reaction, you were on your way to turn heads.

You climbed on the motorcycle after him, circling your arms around him loosely; but when he kicked off and started the ride, you couldn't help but tighten your hold.

    The party was overcrowded with people from the moment you got there; Yasmine's parties tended to get a bit... excessive.

You ditched Hawk the moment you got sight of your friends, ditching the helmet on his bike to run over to Sam, Moon and Yasmine.

Yasmine didn't hide the dirty look she sent at Hawk. “Ew. Who's the freak?”

You grinned proudly. “My valet. Ignore him. Actually...”

You looked over to the drinks table; someone had tapped a keg and it was being swarmed with people.

    “Hey, Hawk!”

Hawk turned to you, the slightest furrow in his brow as he had already joined his own friends. You pointed at the drinks table. “Vodka soda!” you ordered.

He rolled his eyes, but did it anyway. Your friends watched wide-eyed as he obeyed you wordlessly, bringing over the drink. “Anything else, princess?”

    “Yes,” you gave him a judging once-over. “Don't drink tonight. I want to get home in one piece.”

He bit his cheeks and glared at you before growling “Fine” and returning to his friends.

At some point you didn't even want a drink any more, it was just fun ordering Hawk to go fetch you another one; and so, you found yourself unintentionally drunk, laughing mindlessly at anything said and swaying on your feet.

You didn't even know how late it had gotten when Hawk came in the living room looking for you, ready to go home as most the others already had.

You had earlier made him promise to take you home as well, and – something you were quickly learning was, Hawk was definitely a man of his word. He spotted you half-sprawled on the couch, laughing with Yasmine at something you didn't fully register. Your cup was askew in your hand, contents about to spill over when Hawk grabbed it out of your hand, placing it on a table nearby.

    “Come on, Y/n. It's time to go.”

    “Not yet!” you grinned gleefully, taking hold of his wrist and shaking it dumbly as you spoke. “Later! We're having fun!”

Hawk placed his free hand on yours that held him. “It's four AM, Y/n, time to call it a night.”

    You didn't reply, instead resorting to pouting like a child.

His eyes softened (the puppy eyes never failed to work) – but his jaw clenched. “If you don't come now I'm leaving you here.”

    “Fine!” you hurriedly rose to your feet, using Hawk for balance. “Bye,” you pouted at Yasmine childishly as Hawk pulled you away from her and out of the house.

The sudden quiet of the outside was nearly overwhelming, Hawk's voice sounding too loud for you. “How am I supposed to get you home when you're this drunk?”

    “I'm not drunk,” you answered instinctively, knowing that you very well were.

    “If you can make it to the bike in a straight line, I'll believe you.” You look at his bike, ten feet ahead. You decide to keep holding on to him. “That's what I thought. Listen. You gotta stay awake, okay? I can't have you falling off in the middle of the road, or making me sway, because then we're both dead. Got it?”

    “Dead. Got it.”

Hawk didn't look convinced, but placed a helmet on you and buckled it anyway.

It was about ten minutes in to the ride when Hawk pulled over. He turned to you, his voice as serious as he could make it; you simply smiled, somewhat dazed. “This isn't going to work.”

    “Hm?”

    “Y/n!” Hawk called, trying to wake you up a little. “Don't fall asleep!”

    “Yes, sensei.” you slurred. Had you been any more awake, you might have noticed the way Hawk's eyes widened at that.

Hawk had to refocus himself to go on. “I'm serious. Look... My house is closer than yours. You can sleep it off at mine, and I'll take you wherever tomorrow. Okay?”

    “Okay,” you shrugged, your mind not caring about much other than regaining the warmth of Hawk's body pressed against yours.

Minutes later you pulled up at an unfamiliar house. Hawk unbuckled your helmet and set it aside, helping you off the bike and guiding you inside, motioning Shhh as he led you through the corridor of his darkened house until you reached his room.

The most natural thing for you to do the moment you saw a bed was to collapse on it. In the seconds Hawk turned his back on you to find you Pj's to wear, you had fallen asleep.

    Looking at you on his bed, Hawk exhaled heavily. He was very aware of your hatred of him; what he couldn't understand was, if everyone else forgave him, why not you?

It certainly didn't help that you looked the way you do, that you were talented, and that everyone loved you.

So Hawk undid your shoes and pulled them off, laying a blanket on you before leaving you to sleep.

    You woke up groggy, somewhat hungover and in a strangers room; an interesting start to the day.

You didn't really want to leave the comfort of your lonesome in the room but it was clear you would have to face the music at some point, so you womaned up and left the room.

Following the smell of food cooking, you walk down a hallway to find a red-haired man in the kitchen, his tattooed back to you, muscles flexing as he flipped a pancake.

With his hair down, it took you a moment to register who you're seeing; who's bed you spent the night in.

    Hawk.

Your first instinct was to groan, to cower in to yourself in regret; but then you remember how tenderly he treated you the night prior, making sure you got safely to a bed, letting you have his bed.

You swallowed your pride and stepped in to the kitchen. “Morning.”

Hawk's shoulders jumped in fright as you startled him; you couldn't help but giggle. He quickly rightened himself, straightening his back and flexing his abs as he turned to you.

    He was good looking and he knew it. You hated him.

However, you felt your power returning to you as he couldn't help but look you up and down, your disheveled clothes revealing a bit more than they had the night before. Hawk inhaled sharply, reminding himself of who he was, how he was supposed to act: unfazed.

    “Bout time you got up.”

You frowned, looking at the kitchen clock. “What do you mean about time? It isn't even noon yet.”

    “Yeah, well,” Hawk flipped a pancake on to a nearby plate. “You wanted me to take you to the mall today, right? I have practice later, so it's gotta be now.” The Eagle-fangs were holding weekend practices of their own, something you weren't a fan of.

    “Jeez, fine,” you sneered, allowing yourself to sit at the kitchen table. Amidst the chaos that was waking up in Hawks bed, you had totally forgot you previously asked him to take you out today. Yasmine's parents were making her take tutoring lessons, Moon was doing some spiritual healing thing and Sam was with Miguel, so you were left all alone – but you certainly didn't intend on spending Sunday at home, doing nothing.

    Hawk finally shut off the burner and joined you at the table with a stack of pancakes and two plates in tow. “Eat away your hangover. I'm not gonna hold your hair up if you hurl.”

Breakfast with Hawk ended up being a surprisingly civil affair; so was shopping. There was something exciting about dragging him along after you, shop after shop, having him carry your bags and modeling clothes for him. And honestly, you were loving the effect you had on him. You knew he was trying to hide it, but you could see the way he grew antsy when you tried on bikinis. You loved teasing him, knowing he couldn't have you.

    What also didn't hurt was the way you two turned heads walking down streets together. You were undeniably gorgeous, and he... While at first you thought it was the bright red mohawk that grabbed peoples eyes, after a close inspection you couldn't deny he had fair features, too. You had to look away whenever he tensed his jaw, accentuating his jawline, or if God forbid he smiled, you had to deny the way his smile made your stomach knot up.

    As though to top off the experience of him, by the time you finished shopping, Hawk would have been late if he was to take you home, so you suggested he take you to practice with him and just take you home once he was finished. And oh my... You did not need to see him fighting. Having a whole hour to see his biceps flexing as the threw punches was doing you no favors; when you were both practicing you were too busy with yourself to notice him, but right then you had a whole hour to do nothing but stare.

At the end of the practice you rose when Hawk approached you, ready to go. When his sensei understood you were waiting there for him, he asked Hawk, “Yours?”

Hawk didn't answer; he merely smirked that Hawk smirk of his. His sensei nodded proudly. “Nice.” Creep.

You had a couple more days to squeeze the most you could out of your bet, and by all means were you planning on using them.

Hawk was taking you to school and home every day on the back of his bike – to Miyagi-do, too. It became a regular thing to see you two together, and if anyone was expecting you, they expected Hawk, too.

Just as the previous mornings, you and Hawk walked in to school together. Seeing your friends, you bid him goodbye and went to join them, your eyes lingering on him a bit too long as he said hello to Miguel.

Yasmine's jaw dropped as she looked at you, her expression scandalized. “What?” you asked.

    “You're totally in to the freak!”

    “What? No,” you denied – but even as the words left your mouth, you could hear your lack of conviction. “No.”

You looked back to where Hawk and Miguel stood; this time, he caught your eye. Then, with total audacity, he winked at you.

You felt heat rush through your body.

The smirk that grew on him suggested he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

    You hated it.

Deciding to put an end to this madness, you wordlessly leave your friends and march up to Hawk, a new rage running though you.

He stopped talking with Miguel when you reached him; Miguel visibly tensed at what he felt was a dangerous situation for him to be in.

    “Sidebar,” you ordered. Hawk smirked.

    “After you, princess.”

You hoped no one would notice when you lured him in to an empty classroom, but in all honesty, it was you and Hawk. There were always eyes on you two.

You turned to him once you were engulfed in the silence of the room. “Listen. I don't know what you're playing at, but cut it out. I own you, got it? Don't go winking at me in the hallway like I'm your girlfriend or something.”

You expected to see him cower, blush, show any sign of intimidation – but there was no such emotion. The smirk he wore only grew in confidence. “You sure about that?” he asked cheekily. “Because it seems to me like you'll find any excuse to be around me.”

You couldn't believe the audacity of this boy. You were stunted for words; he went on. “Be honest with yourself. Once the week is up, you'll still find reasons to talk to me.”

You bit your cheeks; you hated how he was right, how he read you so easily. “And look, I'm done playing this game too.”

Your stomach dropped. Was he about to reject you, without you even confessing? “I'm not playing with you,” you tried to say intimidatingly, but your voice came out too small for comfort.

    “Me neither. So...” Hawk looked down at you; you could have drowned in his ocean eyes. You averted your gaze to the side, crossing your arms.

    “Fine. We can call it off early.”

Hawk chuckled. You wanted to punch him. “You still don't get it, do you?”

You returned your eyes to Hawk, ready to chew him out when he placed his hands on your cheeks, pulling you to him for a kiss.

You could feel yourself melting in to the kiss, feeling a rush of adrenaline run through you as you finally got to experience what you didn't want to admit to yourself that you craved so deeply.

When he finally pulled away, he kept his hands on you, your noses nearly touching. “I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Hawk admitted.

You half-smiled. “It's only been a week.”

Hawk had burst in laughter, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “You still don't get it.” Before you could protest his words, his lips met your once more.

    Maybe you could find it in you to forgive him, after all.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here!

Donate to Higher Ground HERE!

* “Everyone in school thought you were dead.”

* Jessica says bluntly as you walk down the pink streamer filled hallway

* you offer her a fake yawn and a smile.

* “My dad came by for a surprise visit.” She looks confused before her expression smooths

* “Oh your real dad, not Carlisle”

* Carlisle contacted his counterpart, Eleazer to tell him you were running away with a man 300 years your senior

* So of course Eleazer came running -after he probably had a spat with Carmen about who would handle this situation better- to Forks on the first flight he found

* Only to burst through the door to see you and Emmett playing kingdom hearts in the living room

* “Oh, I see the rumors have been vastly exaggerated.”

* Cue -figuratively- sweating Carlisle who takes a sip from his mug

* Since he was already here you figured you would take a few days off from school and show him around

* “Is there anything in particular you might want to see?”

* Edward and Carlisle are looking pretty smug thinking that they’ve already shown you everything of note in the area.

* “I’ve always wanted to see the space needle in Seattle.”

* They both falter when they hear that. All the things they’ve shown you are things humans wouldn’t be able to see, hidden meadows, waterfalls, underwater caverns

* They never thought to show you human landmarks. Eleazer nods a growing smile on his face

* “Seattle has a lot of museums that I’ve wanted to visit as well”

* Carlisle let’s out a sigh of relief, none of his kids would be caught dead at a museum outside of a field trip

* To their dismay and Eleazer’s delight your eyes sparkle

* “Can we go to the pop culture museum and the arboretum too?”

* You don’t even pack, Eleazer tells you you can just buy whatever you need when you get there. You do take a duffel bag full of blood bags though

* And then you’re gone, you leave care instructions for your animals with Edward and you and Eleazer drive off towards Seattle in the rented Mercedes he got at the airport

* “Is it just me... or do they look happier with Eleazer than they are with us.” Edward’s only talking to himself, but Carlisle hears and the oncoming doting parent verbal and mental sputter makes him regret saying anything at all

* “it’s okay Carlisle, I’m sure they’re happy here with us too.”

* You guys stay at a pretty upscale hotel downtown, in the penthouse

* “Are you here on a trip with your boyfriend?” The receptionist asks, and Eleazar straight up starts laughing

* “This is my dad.” You say with a straight face and you can tell the receptionist wants to die

* “I-I’m so sorry, we usually get couples this time of year.” Right, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. Makes sense.

* Still there’s something super gross about people thinking you’re romantically linked to Eleazer

* The penthouse is very nice. There’s an infinity pool on your balcony, and three different bedrooms.

* The trip is really fun, you have a -pretend- meal at the revolving restraint at the needle, and spend the rest of the week museum hopping

* “She feels so familiar....” you mumble to yourself as you gaze at a portrait of a woman with long dark hair

* “That’s Carmen” Eleazer tells you

* “What?!?”

* “She was popular with artists even before she turned, it’s always been a hobby of hers to model” You’re just glad it’s not a nude portrait

* You take super cheesy pictures at the natural history museum, and even better pics at the pop culture museum

* On one of your last nights in the city Eleazer took you to a laundromat

* “I know we’ve been running out of clothes, but I’m sure the hotel has a laundry service”

* Eleazer just grins, talking to the attendant, who takes him to a hidden door.

* Well this isn’t sketchy at all

* Eleazer takes your hand in his as he leads you down a long narrow hallway. When you teach the end there’s a pretty nice bar and what appears to be a jazz club

* “It’s a speakeasy, I thought it might be a little fun for our last day”

* Being beautiful has its perks because the waiter doesn’t even card you, just brings you your dink

* “So...Garrett huh?” You groan, and Eleazer smiles

* You knew this was coming

* “Don’t worry, I’m not like Carlisle, if you like someone I like them too.”

* Well at least he isn’t acting like a total freak about the whole thing

* “I am surprised someone like Garrett is more your flavor though” you raise an eyebrow.

* “In comparison to who?” Eleazer gives you a funny look

* “Edward of course”

* You almost spit out your drink

* “Oh, is this one of those situations where the three of you are a couple together?”

* You start coughing and the waiter brings you a glass of water

* “We’re not together!”

* “Well of course you and Garrett aren’t together yet-“

* “Edward and I aren’t dating.”

* Eleazer just looks at you like you told him you’re pregnant

* “That can’t be right” he mumbles and you sigh

* “Why would you think we were dating?” The jazz singer belts out a high note and Eleazer patiently waits for her to be done so he can talk again

* “Well you went with them to Forks, and when you came to visit last year with him we all just figured it had happened naturally”

* Besides, Eleazer see’s the way he looks at you.

* Like you’re the epitome of your gender, like there’s never been anyone like you and there never will be again

* “We all? The entire coven thinks that?” Your fingers thread through your hair.

* What does Tanya think about that? She must be feeling pretty smug what with that talk she gave you all those years ago about how you would eventually date Edward

* Edward probably knows and just doesn’t even care, the criminal probably thinks it’s funny

* Eleazar watches you have a breakdown, taking a small sip of his brandy. It looks like you haven’t realized the way you look at Edward yet

* You look at him like you don’t have a single doubt. You trust him unconditionally, you know exactly who he is and where he will be.

* You look at him like he’s home

* “This is so embarrassing” you mumble and Eleazer smiles

* He guesses it’s not time yet for you to realize your feelings. Maybe it’s for the best, he’s not as bad as Carlisle, but the thought of giving you away at your wedding makes his heart ache.

* “The best cure for embarrassment is alcohol, drink up.” He grins when you clink your glass against his before gulping down the contents of your drink.

* Who knows, maybe in a few years someone completely different will show up and sweep you off your feet.

* You do talk about something really important with Eleazer though

* “Eleazer when do you think Aro will send for me?”

* Eleazer stops mid motion, his glass halted halfway between the table and his mouth

* “If I’m being honest, I don’t think he will for many years” Eleazer has an awkward expression on his face. “I think he’s afraid of you”

* You sputter

* The great and powerful Aro?! Alive for 1000’s of years. AFRAID OF YOU?!?

* “Oh don’t look at me like that, try and think about it from his perspective.”

* Your power is on par with Janes, but unlike her over the decade you’ve been a vampire your power has only gotten stronger. Your body’s natural despair and your desire to be human feed off of each other, compounding on each other to make your power that much more potent

* The only difference is that now you’ve learned to hide it, keeping your emotions in check so others aren’t hurt

* There isn’t a person alive that stands a chance against you at your full potential. You’re the strongest known vampire

* “Chelsea can’t bind you to coven with her loyalty like she does the others,” Eleazer takes a sip of his drink. “his only choice is to let you come back on your own volition, otherwise he risks a war.”

* A war he wouldn’t win, on your own it was dicey, all of them against just you could go either way

* But you weren’t alone anymore, now you have Tanya, Kate, Irina, Carmen, Eleazer

* And Edward. You know without a second thought Edward would follow you into hell if you asked.

* “Saving any discovery of remarkable talent”

* A discovery like Bella

* You’re not 100% certain, but you’re pretty sure your powers don’t work on Bella, the same way Edward, Jane and Alec’s powers won’t work on her

* And if she can really spread her shield to others-

* You’re f*cked

* “but the chances of that are slim to none.” Eleazer reassures you

* You give him a reassuring smile

* “Salud” you raise you glass and he smiles

* “Salud” he grins as your glass clinks

* You weren’t expecting the week to go by so fast, or to be having as much fun as you did.

* You were pretty sad when the end of the week rolled around and Eleazer dropped you off home

* “He’ll be back before you know it” Edward says, his arm over your shoulders, giving your arm a comforting squeeze

* “Yeah I know, it still feels bad though”

* Edward doesn’t say anything, he just holds you a little closer

* You’re thankful to the Cullen’s for taking you in and giving you an opportunity you might not have had otherwise

* But they’re not your coven, they’re not really your family

* And so now you’re here, walking in a bright pink and red construction paper covered hallway next to Jessica who’s talking about Valentine’s Day

* Ah right, today’s Valentine’s Day

* “Do you think maybe...Mike bought me a carnation?” She asks twirling a strand of hair around her finger

* “I’m sure he did”

* You’re actually sure he bought one for Bella, but you’re hoping the courtesy extends to the whole friend group

* You bought all your friends valentines, and that includes the Cullen’s and everyone on the cheer team

* The money wasn’t the worst part, they were only a dollar each, the worst part was having to write notes for all of them, it wouldn’t have been so bad if the girl at the table wasn’t giving you a dirty look as you pretended to struggle through writing 30 cards

* “How much do you want to bet Bella gets the most flowers out of all of us?”

* You would bet the entire contents of your bank account, but you’re pretty sure Jess can’t match your bet

* “Well, she’s something new to look at, and boys are dumb”

* Jessica blows a strand of hair out of her face. You know she’s probably a bit bitter since she’s started to notice Mike is interested in Bella and not her

* But you kind of get it

* Bella’s cute, but she’s no Cindy Crawford. And to add...she’s really shy, not exactly someone with a charismatic personality.

* The attention she’s garnered will fade in due time, Edward had told you as much

* “It’s the same thing as when we moved to town, most of these kids have gone to school together since childhood, so when someone new gets here it’s all they can think about. They don’t really like her, they just like the idea of her. The illusion of a choice”

* It made you a little sad to be honest, even worse was that Bella didn’t seem to enjoy the attention. She seemed uncomfortable every time a boy flirted with her

* “I almost feel bad for her, I get the feeling she’s not really into any of these guys that are chasing her” Jessica says, so you’re not the only one that’s noticed

* You’re a little surprised that when the student comes by with carnations you get two entire bouquets worth

* And then they come back the next period and give you another bouquet

* “Oooo someone’s popular!” Angela teases and you shrug. Most of these are from Alice and Rosalie, they each bought you three each

* You got a whopping 12 from Conner which feels a bit surprising

* You knew he was going after it, but you didn’t think he would bother to actually put any effort into his attraction outside of flirting with you

* You’ve got one from everyone in your friend group, a handful from others on the cheer team, Emmett and Jasper both bought you one

* The only person who didn’t get you one was Edward

* You wonder if he got Bella one? The thought seems unlikely since they were basically at each others throat the last time they were together

* So imagine your surprise when you walk into the hall to see Bella and Edward talking

* You’re gone for a week and it’s like they’re suddenly insta-friends

* In fact, Bella’s actually blushing, a carnation twirling between her fingers

* A light red carnation

* So he did buy carnations after all, just not for you

* And Edward...his eyes are sparkling as he looks down at her. A lopsided grin curling onto his face

* Oh, there’s that smile

* He says something to her and she pouts, slapping him lightly with the carnation

* They’re getting along just fine without your matchmaking efforts

* So you were the problem

* You should be happy, relieved even-

* But all you can feel is the sharp twist in the bottom of your stomach

* “Hey (Y/N/N), I see you got my flowers”

* You turn around to see Conner who’s looking at your half zipped bag, 3 bouquets of flowers popping out of the top

* “Oh, yeah thanks they’re beautiful.”

* “I’m glad you got them, I noticed you weren’t at school and for a second I was worried you wouldn’t be here today too.”

* He really is cute. He’s got chocolate brown hair and clear blue eyes, a splatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He plays tennis or baseball or some other irrelevant sport.

* He’s popular with the girls too, he dated Lauren a few times, and Jessica admitted she had a crush on him freshman year.

* “Are you feeling better now?” He asks, he looks genuinely concerned and it takes you back a bit

* “Yeah, my dad came for a surprise visit so we went to Seattle”

* “Oh that’s cool, what did you guys do?”

* You’re a little surprised that Conner O’Malley, f*ckboy extraordinaire, is Trying to engage you in an honest conversation

* “We just did all the tourist stuff, space needle, museums, food, the usual.”

* Conner smiles at you, hands fidgeting together

* “That’s cool, did you um-did you read the note with the bouquet?

* You didn’t notice there was a note, you swing you backpack around, picking out his bright red bouquet with ease.

* You hadn’t paid attention to the note attached than reading the name on the front to see who they were from.

* “Will you be my valentine” you read the note out loud, feeling confused. What does that mean

* He fidgets in front of you, from here you can see his ears are bright red

* “So would you want to go out sometime?”

* He’s asking you out? On a proper date????

* “We could go watch a movie, or um I know you like to ride those bikes in Port A-“ you do like to ride those bikes in port a

* You watch the his human boy fumble over himself. There’s no future with this boy, one day he’ll grow old and want things you won’t be able to give him.

* “I have a ton of homework to catch up on-“

* “Oh, yeah no, I get that”

* But maybe... maybe it’s okay just to pretend and let yourself be entertained by the experience

* “Would you want to come with me to the library? I’m totally lost on Trig”

* You know it’s not the most romantic place, but that’s part of the reason you suggested it. You want to give him an out

* He looks a little surprised but recovers quickly.

* “I’ll meet you after school then, we can drive to the library together”

* You don’t bother telling Edward, you just look to the spot where he’s with Bella, he must have heard

* His eyes meet yours, his mouth pinches into a slight smile and he gives you a nod before turning back to Bella

* What so just because he’s got a new friend you’re invisible now?

* Stupid Edward. Not like you care, you just wanted him to know he’d have to ride home with the others

* Maybe his new best friend Bella can give him a ride home

* “So you’re going out with Conner tonight huh?” Mike asks when you take your seat in biology

* Edward doesn’t so much as spare you a glance

* “He’s just helping me catch up on school work.” You shrug, pulling out your biology homework

* “I bet he’ll help you catch up on-“

* “You’re going out with Conner?” Bella interrupts, you’re grateful for it but at the same time: those doe eyes and innocent face irritate you

* “He’s just helping me catch up on homework I missed”

* “Couldn’t Edward hell you do that?”

* You try to not look at Edward

* But what the f*ck?!?

* Last week the two of them couldn’t even sit in a car together for a short ten minute drive, and now all of a sudden she’s asking why you’re NOT spending time with Edward?

* It’s so... irritating

* You feel a tap on your arm, and turn to look at Edward

* “Control yourself”

* Oh great so the one time he decides to acknowledge your presence is to tell you to control your powers because he’s worried about his little human girlfriend getting the whiplash?!?

* Seriously, f*ck off Edward

* “Mr. Barnes I have to go to the nurse.”

* You don’t even wait to hear his answer, you just grab your bag and walk out

* You keep walking, practically fuming until you get to the parking lot

* Well you can’t leave, you already told Conner you’re going with him to the library after school

* Not to add it’s going to look real weird if you don’t go the nurses office eventually after storming off like that

* But you don’t want to go there yet

* Queue you discretely crouching under a window, lightly tapping the glass

* “Rosalie, Rosalie can you hear me?” You whisper

* Rosalie head turns to the window, her eyebrows threaded together, you poke your head just slightly above the ledge and give her a small smile and a wave

* Well at least it’s always interesting with you around

* “What are you doing?” Rosalie asks when she meets you under the school staircase

* You give her a nervous smile before collapsing onto the floor

* She gives you a knowing look before sitting beside you

* “So what did king Brood do now?”

* Queue the Edward rant

* “I leave for one week and all of a sudden he’s besties with some human, when just last week he told me not to get to close to her”

* “That’s Edward for you, king of the brood and hypocrisy.” Rosalie leans her head back against the wall

* “You know he didn’t even get me a carnation?”

* Rosalie rolls her eyes

* “That sounds like him, if it helps he didn’t buy me a carnation either, he just doesn’t think things like this are important”

* “He bought Bella one.”

* Rosalie sputters at that, so you retell her all about the flirting you had to watch

* “What color was the carnation?” Rosalie asks, and your eyebrows thread together

* Why is that important right now?

* “Um I don’t know, not quite pink, not quite red, something in between.”

* Rosalie’s expression smooths

* So that’s his game

* “Don’t worry about it too much as long as it’s not a deep red it doesn’t mean love”

* Now it’s your turn to sputter

* “W-what why would I be worried? Edward can do whatever he wants, even if it is with some human”

* Rosalie gives you a knowing look, and you avert your eyes

* If Rosalie were cruel she might ask why you’re sitting out here with her instead of in class, if you don’t care about what Edward does

* But Rosalie isn’t cruel, at least not to you

* She pats your shoulder, and you sigh

* “Come on let’s go to the nurse so you can pretend you have cramps or something” you nod

* “Besides don’t you have a date with the hottest human boy at our school?” You groan and a teasing smile curls onto her lips

* “Not you too.”

* The date is over hyped for sure, it’s mostly you and Conner sitting at the end of a small table asking each other questions about the trig homework

* “So...are you supposed to use the radical formula for this one?”

* “I think so..do you remember the formula?” Conner scratches his head

* “Um I remember there was a story about a mixed up guy going to a party that’s supposed to help”

* Basically it’s more like you’re helping Conner with home work than him helping you Totally underwhelming

* “Sorry, I bet there are better ways to spend your Valentine’s Day” Conner scoffs

* “Are you kidding? I’m spending it with the hottest person at Forks HS, as far as I’m concerned this is a win” he grins and you smile back

* Well, it wasn’t completely a waste

* You roll around back home around 11:30, everyone’s gone, on with their own Valentine’s Day plans.

* You’re not surprised to see Edward’s not in his room either He’s probably out watching Bella or doing god knows what

* You know this is the way it supposed to be, it’s the best thing for you too, you know even with Bella in the mix Edward would never betray you

* Once she’s on your side you don’t have to worry about the Volturi. But still, there a twist in your stomach You don’t like this new Edward, even if it is who he really is.

* You want your Edward back

* You sigh as you walk down the hall and into your room Stopping in the doorway when you flick on the lights

* There on your desk is a bouquet of roses

* You have half a mind to think they’re from Eleazer or Garrett or something

* So imagine when you pull off the card to see Edward’s name attached

* “Glad to have you home, happy Valentine’s Day” - Edward

* You toy with the card, a small smile curling onto your lips

* Maybe he’s still your Edward

* Your Edward just more anti-social

Tags:  @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​ @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10​

[workofheart]

proof

with whatever happens from here, our names will last far beyond our years

for my armin angst anon :) thank you for the request, i honestly love angst and write it all the time outside of fanfic so idk why i don’t do it more often!

pairing: armin arlert x reader

wc: 1.5k

genre: angst, fluff (happy end)

a/n: takes place somewhere just before the events of season 4. also, hi guys! this is lowkey word vomit and i’m a bit out of practice so if this doesn’t seem like me, that’s why lol

they say that time heals all wounds, but in your case, time does nothing but prolong the constant sting in your throat. it denies the sinking acceptance your weary heart pleads for. because as long as you have time, you don’t have to face the truth.

so what if you love him? so what if it’s been years? so what if no matter what you do, you can’t let him go? it’s not like it’s going to change any time soon. but even if it did, even if you had the choice to move on, you’re not so sure you would. he’s the last bloom of the season left that you pick out of selfishness, the butterfly you’re blessed to catch yet hate to let go. 

because if not him, who else?

armin is everything. he’s your reflection and your opposite, late nights and early mornings, kind and then cruel across his commitment to morality. he’s there on good days and bad days, with a smile or sympathy. if you’re lucky, you get both.

he’s brutally imperfect, perfectly human, and so easy to love.

but when standing against the end of humanity, there’s no room for childish fantasies like yours.

you love him so bad it hurts. he’s at the forefront of your mind at all times, even when he’s standing right in front of you. you think of him visiting that girl in the basement, day after day, frozen in her cowardly crystal as she hides from retribution. he waits, staring, and she occupies his mind when you desperately wish it could be you. what is it about a criminal that intrigues him past rationality?

yet the worst thought is that one day, you might not feel so strong. 

it’s something keeping you around. it’s something to imagine on nights when the sun hangs in the sky as low as your hope for the future. he’s something to bet on and pin your fleeting dreams to. however long this feeling lasts, you hang on with all that you can, because waiting at the end is the inevitable sting of loving someone who doesn’t love you back.

it’s a realization you’re not ready to come to yet. for now, a little voice convinces you that there’s a chance. and a chance is enough, isn’t it?

you’re sitting by the docks, feeling the afternoon sun sear your skin, when gentle footsteps knocking on the wood alert you to his presence. when you crane your neck up to see him, he stretches his arms behind his head before sitting down next to you. it’s not surprising, considering armin makes a point to show he cares for all of his friends, but you still wonder if maybe how hard you were thinking about him somehow drew him in. you try to resist the heat burning at the skin of your cheeks fueled by his mere appearance.

“it’s a really nice night, huh?”

he sighs as he lowers his palm to the edge of the wood and throws his legs over, cementing his place beside you. you cling your knees close to your chest while your head rests upon them for support.

“yeah. i didn’t know it could be this pretty.”

tender rays of sunshine brush over his blond hair, making it shimmer like gold. it’s tentative, as if the great light source that keeps your world turning is even too afraid to touch armin arlert.

“me too, but i think i always hoped for it. expected it, at least,” he says with a nod. nostalgia swims in the pond of color in his eyes as he looks out across the water. “but that’s how it is when you’re a kid.”

you want to laugh. when you were a kid, you certainly weren’t concerned with the existence of an ocean beyond the walls. something tells you armin didn’t just expect it out of naivety.

“oh, please,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “you don’t give yourself enough credit. you practically know what’s going to happen before the rest of us have even started thinking about it.”

he lets out a breath of shy laughter through a smile. he’s too modest. “yeah, maybe.”

the blunt edge of your nail scratches at the fresh, amber wood to your side. you press a little more, digging it out like a miniature canyon while silence fills the air. armin opens his mouth and the proximity allows you to hear a rushed intake of air, like courage, filling his lungs before it hitches in his throat. it pauses there, contemplating, before he lets it out in faltered attempt to seem like it went according to plan.

but he swallows and tries again, because armin knows the world will always give him a second chance.

“speaking of… i wanted to talk to you in the first place because, well,” he cedes, rubbing his eyes, “i kind of get the feeling something big is about to happen.”

he chews at the corner of his lip, eyes darting to the side to gauge your reaction.

your head tilts in curiosity. “really? what makes you say that?”

you watch as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. his nails run along his cuticles, the natural folds in his palms, gathering his thoughts in preparation to set them all out.

his fingers tug through his bangs to soothe his tired roots. “well, it’s been a long time coming. with eren gone, sending notes, arranging plans. it’s coming to its climax, i think. and once it starts, it’s not gonna stop until it’s over.”

bright locks fall in front of his fact when a light gust of wind blows by. his cheeks are smooth and soft with a slight pink tint from the heat of the day, and his lashes are long and wispy, like the wings of an insect. you have to pry your gaze away though your heart pleads you for a second longer spent admiring.

“i really care about you. i just wanted you to know that.”

you’re not sure you hear it right at first. swept away with his image in the hazy evening, you almost miss that he’s talking to you directly. he cares about you. your pulse stutters.

he cares about you.

you blink, swallowing the apparent dryness in your mouth. “i care about you, too.”

after all this time, you should be used to it. the way how he cares will never be the same as how you care, it shouldn’t hurt you, but you still feel your eyes sting and throat tighten. you can’t help it.

you can’t look him in the eye. instead, you avert your attention to the place in the wood you’ve been indenting your nail. the pressure helps distract from the tears gathering along your lashline. it slowly forms the shape of your initial, a diminutive mark on the expansive docks soon to be walked over by thousands.

“is something wrong?”

your immediate reaction is to dismiss. the words are already slipping off your tongue, excuses that it’s the sun in your eyes and denials that you’re just tired, but they get stuck at the end. is it because the opportunity is here? something pushes them away from the edge as they desperately rock themselves back onto the safety of the cliff with flailing arms and wobbly legs. 

hundreds of scenarios rush through your mind, of him getting up and leaving, of awkwardness, of anger and anguish, and yet it’s not enough to derail you. you can’t sit in your itches any longer. if the world is ending soon like he implies, then so be it, because god knows you’d take his word over anything.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, voice frail and barely above a whisper. “i just love you.”

you brace for impact, but it doesn’t come. the only sounds are the sawing of your nail, the squawks of distant birds, the waves crashing gently on the shore how they always do at dusk. then his fingers wrap around your wrist, still moving against the wood, to grasp your attention. his eyes are warm and inviting as you slowly lift your head to find them.

“i love you, too.” 

a sad smile tugs at your lips. he doesn’t get it. honesty has never hurt so much. “no,” you confess with a sorrowed tinge, “like i love you.”

his eyes crinkle up like crescents. the grin adorning his cheeks is like a medallion, glowing and bright and entirely juxtaposed from the ache of yours.  “i love you” he presses, eyebrows raising in emphasis. 

“but…”

“but, what? you really doubt it?” he smiles with a breath, eyes crinkling shyly as he looks away. “i thought it was obvious.”

his thumb presses small circles into the back of your palm before letting go and brushing it away from where your hand covers your mark. his nail is much wider and blunt so it doesn’t take long for a faint ‘A’ to appear beside yours, a shade just lighter than the surface.

“if you think you were being obvious, you should have caught on to me earlier,” you laugh.

a coy smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, pressing a dimple into his skin. “maybe i did.”

“you did not.”

“okay, i didn’t. but,” he pauses, holding up his index finger, “i always hoped!”

it draws an airy, relieved laugh from your chest. armin leans down and blows the dust across the wood and sweeps away the extras with his hands.

your initials sit carved into the docks of your home with love, together. no matter if you are unable to return, they’ll still be here. if no one else is around to remember today, at least these letters will be imprinted with a story.

it’s proof of life, proof you lived, and most notably, proof that it was with armin arlert.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

[oh-my-may]

Sakusa, Tsukishima and Kenma when their s/o gets a wound

requested: sakusa, tsukki, and kenma with a s/o who gets a wound? maybe they went to do an activity and get their knees scraped bad and the boys find out? how would they take care of their s/o?

Sakusa was such a good pick for this oh my that’s probably why his is a bit longer please forgive me I am weak for him ok

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

There were not a lot of things you could do as dates, since Sakusa declined most of your suggestions saying that it would be too unhygienic or too much work making sure everything would be clean.

But when you came up with the idea of going wandering on a mountain trail, where only mostly elderly people where, he was all for it. Of course he also didn’t liek staying insiode all the time, and a place where anybody went while being in nature sounded like music to his ears.

However you regretted your decision soon after you guys started your trip. You were breathing heavily and your legs already felt like spaghetti and you werent even halfway up the hill. Sakusa however, with his amazing sports stamina was walking ahead and barely notived that you fell way behind, until he wanted to talk to you and you didn’t respond to his words. He turned around wondering where you were. Did you maybe get lost? But then he saw you hanging over, your hands placed on your knees and you looked up to him smiling, but you couldn’t hide the exhaustion.

Your boyfriend couldn’t help but chuckle seeing you like that. He walks to you and stops in front of you, tilting his head while he observes your heaving figure. “You know, we can just return if you want to. But the air up here is really good and I guess it’s even better at the top.” You just shake your head, insisting on continuing this trip because it hasn’t been often that you saw Kiyoomi this careless. You were determined to make this an enjoyable trip for the both of you, but especially him. He deserved a pause from his hectic life.

So he grabs your hand and walks slowly beside you for a while, both of you enjoying the nature around you and the fresh air sweeping through your lungs. When you’re finally at the top you have a nice picnic while enjoing the view over the land, watching leaves dance in the wind and tumbling around you, taking in all the scents of exotic flowers and birds chirping somewhere in the tree tops.

You feel a lot better when you get back down. Walking down on a mountain is a lot less exhausting than walking up, after all. Your steps fly more easily. Too easily. You’re more careless with your steps and before you can stop it you stumble over a big rock in your way, landing on your knees before Sakusa can grab your wrist. However he’s quick to help you up again and you flinch and hiss when you shift your weight on your left leg again. Your knee is totally scraped, a small rill of blood running down your leg. Some small stones still stick to your skin and Sakusa is quick to pull out a small package from his backpack, because this man never goes anywhere unprepared.

He helps you sit down on a tree trunk next to the path you were walking and he looks at you with slight amusement but also worry in his eyes. He sighs before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top of your head and then kneels down in front of you, taking care of the wound. “What am I gonna do with you? You’re so clumsy...” he mumbles and you have to smile, though your knee still burns badly. Sakusa takes care of it perfectly, even kissing the bandage on top of your knee after he’s done. However, he doesn’t let you walk down again, he carries you down all the way on his back and you’re not complaining.

You just cling onto him and cuddle into his back, burying your face in his neck and stroking his hair occassionally, thanking him for taking care of you so well. He smiles to himself when he feels you pressing to him, feeling your breath so close on his skin.

After the trip he still checks up on your knee everyday, even when it’s not a wound that serious. He still claims that it shouldn’t get infected and that he’s the only one besides a doctor that can take proper care of it. Always kisses your knee after every check up! A true cariing cutie, I am way too soft for this man

Tsukishima Kei:

It was hard to get Tsukishima thrilled of the idea of going somewhere special to hang out. He was more of the stay inside kinda person, preferring just cuddling up to you in private.

You accepted his choices (even though you still got him to go to certain places sometimes) and that’s how you transformed everyday situations into little dates. Like lunch in school or staying in your garden instead of in the house, sometimes you’d even join his practice and watch him there. Even though he would never admit it, he enjoyed it when you do that. It always makes his insides all giddy and warm because you care for him so much!

You also always walk home together, talking about anything on your way or just quietly listening to music while enjoying each other’s company, silently holding or hands or sometimes he’ll just sling an arm around your shoulders and pull you close to him, walking like that for a while.

Today however you were “balancing” on a wall next to the sidewalk while talking to Kei and rambling about your day. It was fun to you focusing on taking the right steps, even though the platform you were walking on was not that small. You still had to be careful about where you placed your feet, because there were roots and other plants growing over and through the stone. “Ugh anyway, and then our teacher just made us write a test, and it was fine I guess but still sucked.” you ended your little rant.

“Y/N, are you really sure you should walk up there? Don’t you think it would be safer down here? You’re gonna get hurt if you don’t look out.” Tsukki just says while looking up to you with a vague face. You almost laughed seeing him like that. Was he actually worrying about you? Contrary to you always worrying about him at games, this was a nice change.

“Don’t be silly Kei, I’ve been balancing on things since I was a child, literally nothing will happen-” And that’s when you literally cursed yourself, because just moment later you stumble over a root and fall down, though you manage to cushion your fall with your hands which got the most damage.

Your boyfriend is right next to you in no time, helping you up and scanning your body for any injuries, but luckily only your hands got injured and your elbow felt weird, making your whole arm feel like some sort of pudding. Tsukki is just shaking his head while taking in the scrapes and cuts on your hands. You flinch when he softly touches your strained skin and he looks at you with disapproval. His eyes literally tell you “I told you so.” but fortunately he has enough tactfulness to not say it out loud. He accompanies you to your house, constantly shaking his head when you whimper and pout because your hands hurt.

He reluctantly helps you clean your hands, because he claims he’s not good with that kind of stuff and he only helps you bandage the wound because you don’t want to move your hands too much. Quiet sounds of disapproval still leave his lips as he does, though. Something like that could never happen to him, he says. Still, the look in his eyes is loving. He appreciates your playful side a lot. Without it, his life would be pretty plain. Without YOU it would be.

He loves you, but please prepare for a bunch of teasing after the incident. He will never let you climb on something or balance somewhere every again for a long time because honestly? He cares about you a little too much and he can’t bear to see you hurt in any way.

Kenma Kozume:

Kenma always seemed to be busy with some things. In the morning it was school, in the afternoon volleyball practice and in the evening and at night he was usually gaming.

You tried you best to insert yourself into his routine. Walk to school with him, spend the breaks at school with him, game with him, watch him at practice. You were fine with it, really, because you noticed how over the time he got more cooperative and sometimes skipped volleyball practice to hang out with you, or he was starting to game a bit less in order to go to the cinema with you etc.

But you still treasured the time the most when you could hang with him normally, like at practice. You could actually spend hours watching him do something else other than hanging over his console.

And the other members loved you, too. They appreciated you being at practice, it was like having another manager. You also took care of them and told them everything you observed, you brought snacks and cheered for them in any game. Sometimes you’d even join in during training camps and get along with other teams, as well.

You normally used your time during practice to do homework or work on other things, but today you helped out as the “ballboy/girl” basically and ran around the gym catching the flying volleyballs and collecting them for the boys. You’d throw them back to them or helped them to serve the ball, but you were always just moving around the whole time. You didn’t mind, though. It was actually very fun, the boys were constantly joking around. But Kenma didn’t look all that amused whenever a ball just closely missed you or when you almost fell in an attempt to catch a ball.

You watched as him and Yaku were talking to Lev and teaching him how to do a proper serve. The first year was listening eagerly, moving his hands and arms around enthusiastically and you found yourself grinning when Kenma moved his hands over his face in frustration.

Then it finally came to Lev putting all the tips into something and he was standing at the end of the field, ready to serve. You watched him fail a few times until he hit the ball with a loud bang and slammed it over the net, right to where you were standing. No one had enough time to react properly and before you could even think about diodging the ball landed straight on your chest and you fell backwards, hitting your head on the floor hard. For a moment you couldn’t see or hear anything, just darkness and dancing light in front of your eyes and a defeaning beeping in your ears.

Someone helped you to sit up and you slowly began to see contours of people around you, and their voices were still incomprehendable to you. You felt hands on your back and then on your face and you looked into your boyfriends face who had widened eyes and looked very pale.

Then he turned around and basically chased Lev through hell for doing this, giving him the lecture of his life even though you weren’t hurt that badly. there was a small wound at the back of your head and just a little bit of blood came out.

Kenma was by your side the whole time, flinching a lot more than you when you got a bandage around your head. You got some medication from the doctor and while you were tripping a little bit he still stayed at your side, giving you his console so you can play and distract yourself from ther pain

Literally really won’t leave your side, will stay at your house until you can go to school again and he just spends the days next to you in your bed, pouting when he sees the wound and carefully stroking your hair. He’s a big cuddler during this time and literally won’t led you near the gym anytime soon. He always gives Lev death stares when he gets near you, like a hissing cat.

A protective boy, 11/10 would love and cherish

[meltwonu]

45. “I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet.”

80. “Don’t ruin the sofa.”

            “I’ll just have to cum inside you then.”

notes; incubus!joshua, dom!joshua, dirty talk, name calling, degradation!!, the smallest smallest whisper of subspace, 😗🥴 If I could write incubus only fics forever I would djfhskd also yes I need to update my mastertlist I was meant to do it earlier and I took a nap instead oops ☠️ jdfhksdh but anyway!!! I'll do another inbox sweep tomorrow! there's some GoSe spoilers in there and I havent had a chance to watch it yet so imma do that after this goes up hehe 💕💕 Thank you for requesting!!! Enjoy!!! 💕

Joshua pushes you down onto the sofa; lips easing into a knowing smirk when you look up at him with glassy eyes.

“Wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’ about in that head of yours?”

His voice is gentle, sweet, and almost enough to trick you into thinking he was actually an angel if not for the horns protruding from his skull and the way his eyes gleam a dark crimson when they stare back at you. “Hah, why should I even ask? We both know you’re just my desperate ‘lil toy wanting to get fucked, right? I can see it in your eyes and the way your body calls for me and craves me, baby.”

Your body already feels hot, legs spreading on their own to welcome Joshua between them as you whimper.

“If you already know then why are you so slow, Joshua~?” You shoot him a cocky smirk of your own, watching as his eyes travel down your body.

“It’s ‘cause I know I don’t have to do anything to get you to cum. I could stand here all night, tell you the words you wanna hear, get your pretty ‘lil cunt wet  and you’d cum all over those panties of yours. You know I have the power to do it too. You’re just greedy and want more than that~” Joshua slots himself between your legs, leaning over your warm body until his face is only inches away from your own.

His fingers ghost across your naked thighs, goosebumps rising on your skin as you shiver under his touch.

Your shaky moans cut through the air once his nimble fingers press against your soaking panties; eyes clamping shut at the way he already had a complete hold over you.

“Hmm… I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet. Do I even need to fuck you? Your mind seems to be doing enough without me. But I can make your imaginations sweeter, if that’s what you want.” He whispers softly.

“No, p-please… J--Joshua I--I need you to fuck m-me... please...”

When Joshua sinks his cock into you, there’s a moment when you feel like you can’t breathe; lips falling open in a silent cry when he bottoms out in a single, fluid movement.

He grins at your expression, drawing his hips back before thrusting back into you, slow yet hard. “O-oh, fuck!” You cry out, sobbing as your body wholly gives into the pleasure.

“Hmm~ It’s been so long since I’ve fucked your pretty body, baby. You should call for me more often. I don’t understand why you’re so scared of me~ I could be so nice to you.” Joshua teases. You peer up at him through hazy eyes, cheeks hot to the touch as you bite your lip.

“Ah, could that be it?” He smirks down at you and you can feel the way his eyes seem to penetrate your own; reading you like an open book while he slows his thrusts down. 

“My pretty ‘lil baby wants me to be rough, is that it? You want me to call you my ‘lil slut. My good little cocksleeve that was only made to lay pretty underneath me while I fuck you senseless? You know I can give you what you want but you just like playing coy. You’re scared you won’t be able to get enough of me, that you’ll crave me every waking moment of the day. ”

You clench around his cock, soft yes’s spilling from your lips at his words. “Josh---Joshua, p-please!”

He laughs under his breath, resuming his quick pace as his hips snap into you. “You got so much tighter around me just now. Filthy ‘lil cumslut, you might not be honest with me but your body is telling me everything I need to know.” Joshua knows your body like the back of his hand; angling his thrusts to perfectly tap your g-spot as you cry out and beg him to fuck you faster.

Admittedly, you and Joshua hadn’t known each other for long, give or take a month or two at most. How he’d even been summoned to you was a mystery in itself and the handsome male had only flashed you a smile and told you that it’d been fate that your body had called to him. You weren’t sure how much he even knew about you or your desires; not that he’d ever given you a second to ask when he was fucking you. 

“Ngh, J--Joshua, fuck it feels, ah, so g-good… You’re f-fucking me so d-deep… Filling me u-up so good...” You mewl, hands digging into the cushion behind your head. “M-make me, ah, c-cum on your c-cock…”

Joshua doubles his pace, fucking you deeper into the cushions as your mind starts to get fuzzy. Your lips part in clipped moans and soft breaths, unfocused eyes blinking slowly up at Joshua who licks his lips.

“Oh? My little cocksleeve is feeling really good now, huh?” You nod slowly in return, unable to form words; body tingling as he works to throw you over the edge of an orgasm. He reaches a free hand down to your clit, rubbing quick circles around the swollen nub as your back arches off of the sofa.

A jumbled mix of noises and broken cries of Joshua’s name manage their way out of your mouth as you’re suddenly overcome with unadulterated pleasure; body shaking under Joshua’s own as he keeps fucking you through your high.

You can vaguely hear his soft chuckles through the buzzing in your ears and you can feel the way your breath almost stops with how hard your orgasm hits you. “God, you’re so pretty when you cum.” Joshua groans; his own body thrumming with sexual energy as he feeds off of you. “You always taste so fuckin’ sweet too.”

It takes a second for your body to untense underneath him; chest heaving in deep breaths as you start to come down from your high. 

Joshua keeps fucking you, albeit this time slowly as he drags his cock out slow enough to have your body craving the way his cock fits inside your tight, warm walls.

“God, your cunt is soaking my cock.” He moans, “I could fuck your pretty ‘lil pussy all night. Get you thinkin’ only about me so fuckin’ bad that you’ll only ever think of the way my cock fills you out and keeps your slutty ‘lil hole plugged up with my cum.”

Joshua pauses, eyes trained on the way your hazy eyes still pool with lust when you look up at him.

“Or should I cum on your skin, cover you in it ‘n get you all messy? I’ll even take pictures for you so you can see how fuckin’ wrecked I can get you.” Joshua lets out an angelic laugh, eyes forming crescents when he feels you clenching around his cock.

“I--d--don’t ruin the sofa…” You mumble, shy eyes averting from his piercing stare.

He thrusts into you harshly; eating up the way you whimper and try to fuck yourself on his cock already. Joshua’s grip on you tightens, blunt nails digging into your skin before he draws his hips back and slams into you again. He knows you’ve made your choice. For now.

“I’ll just have to cum inside you then.”

[nevertheless-moving]

My actual point writing this here is that a year into the war when Obi-Wan (36) starts really bonding with Cody (14/28) he feels super weird about it on a bunch of levels because its Cody who’s loyal and hot and smart but does this make Obi-Wan a creep? Or is it more offensive not to sleep with him? (Not to mention it’s easier to think about consent in terms of numbers then the insane command structure and slavery thing because they’ve got a pretty healthy relationship all things considered and he’s already promoting the man as fast as possible anyway but clones have no legal rights) 

Obi-Wan sleeps around with various terrible choices, sexual tension builds. FINALLY after two years of war they get stuck in a cave, naturally huddle for warmth, things escalate positively and Obi-Wan’s like WAIT I CAN’T

There’s some horny exasperation, but they care about each other, and don’t want to sour what they have with regrets. Eventually Cody (15/30 at cave time) and Obi-Wan agree to wait another 3 years so they’ll both be at the legal human age of consent and the age difference will drop to just 4 years. By then the war will be over anyway, right? So the whole jedis-own-the-clones thing that’s really underneath all this will HAVE to be resolved. 

They spend the rest of the night cuddling with uncomfortable boners.

Another year passes. Lots of longing glances, lingering hand touches, tender bandaging of wounds, suggestive lightsaber holds...you know. YOU  K N O W. Plus a little private teasing about the jailbait thing because they’re literally running a war together

Order 66. 

When asked, CC-2224 can’t believe he ever considered himself close to a traitor. He doesn’t think about it the rest of the time. 

Obi-Wan has plenty of regrets. This is probably the easiest one to bear, and the only one that makes him smile to think of.

Things could have been left at that, but once Fulcrum disseminates the knowledge on exactly why the clones turned, a number of early rebellion task-forces dedicate themselves to de-chipping/disabling the chips. Beyond the whole sentient rights thing, its good tactical sense. They’re a well placed MAJOR military asset that could quickly start providing immediate returns if suborned. Worst case you’ve just activated a number of extremely effective suicide bombers

It takes over a year and a lot of good men die, but a desperate rebel cell manages to infiltrate purge trooper barracks. They go undiscovered just long enough to plant a few extremely well-calibrated electrical devices. Bomb sweep fails to register them. The whole terrorist group is wiped out of course, but the EMPs activate overnight as planned. Massive damage to Imperial Military resources and overly hasty brain surgery follows.

Like I said, a lot of good men die. 

But Cody, now that his head is more or less his own, has a little more hope than the average CC (not a lot, but enough to stave off going out in a blaze of glory). General Kenobi’s body was never found after all. He knows- he looked.

He quickly joins up with the Onderran campaign- he can’t go on many imperial raids- he understands that his brothers would rather die than live as they are but that doesn’t mean he can pull the trigger. But black ops? yeah. Rumour is they’ve even got a Jedi on the next mission- he’d be irritated at the bad operational security but that specific rumour passes around so often its essentially useless to spies anyway.

Team members are independently directed to assemble at a safe house, their arrivals deliberately staggered. Cody steals and ditches two different ships, not to mention spends a week in a sewer, before finally arriving. Organa himself had stressed that one of the crew is taking time off of a top-secret long-term protection detail for this and no chances are to be taken with being tracked. 

He arrives late at night, with two days left to spare.

Two unknown near-human fighters (Guerra trained by the looks), a Mon-Calamari smuggler, and a Gand mercenary who he’s fairly confident used to work for the separatists greet him cordially enough at entry; his reputation proceeds him. If anything, the former Marshall Commander of the 7th Sky Corps is overqualified for this sort of mission. He’s vaguely pleased to find another trooper present- a heavily scarred arc commando wearing 187th colors. The commando is actually smiling, seated across from and deep into conversation with a robed figure,

Cody’s heart jumps to his throat. Their conversation halts. Everyone watches. And General Kenobi slowly turns to face him. The air’s too heavy with tension for the others to think about leaving discretely, even if they were willing (the chips are a poorly-understood open secret at this point, and the five bystanders are well trained enough to brace themselves for the worst case reunion).

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says softly. “It’s good to see you.” 

The Jedi looks terrible. In the two and a half years since the end of the war and the start of the empire, the man seems to have aged faster than a botched clone. 

He’s using his stupid earnest voice where he means what he’s saying and its important that Cody know that. Like he’s actually, truly happy to see Cody even after what the clones did to their Jedi. Even after what Cody tried to do to Obi-Wan. Cody’s had plenty of time to think of what he might say if he ever saw the man again, but he hadn’t used it- it was too painful to imagine anything personal anymore. What apology could be enough? What right did he have to express grief in the face of Obi-Wan’s unfathomable loss? To Cody’s absolute horror, what comes out his mouth is

"I’m not jailbait anymore, you know.”

The words hang in the air, and Cody is now ready to die. Maybe if he moves suddenly enough one of their captive audience members will reflexively shoot him. 

Sure, after their long talk in that cave, Cody had spent an unhealthy amount of time daydreaming variations on ‘I’m a real man now we gonna fuck or what’

but that was before he became a kriffing PURGE TROOPER what the actual hells was wrong with his brain 

Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan blinks rapidly. Then grins. It was honest delight mixed with Negotiator smarm crossed with an about-to-get-laid-leer.

Cody’s heart starts back up with a vengeance.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about it,” Obi-Wan drawls. He shifts in his seat, straightening from a weary hunch to lean back cockily, hands behind his head and legs spreading even wider than their customary sprawl. 

“Oh, did I miss your 18th decant day? I’m ever so sorry my dear, I do hope I can make it up to you somehow. Incidentally, have I ever mentioned that contrary to popular opinion, the Jedi Code doesn’t actually require celibacy?”

Cody let out a strangled noise at the pickup line that had, almost impressively, become even less tasteful since the last time he heard it. He must have moved forward somehow, because the next thing he knew the General’s chair was toppling back and his legs were wrapped around the Jedi’s waist and Obi-Wan’s tongue was doing incredible things to the inside of his mouth. There's a sense of hasty movement, the slam of a door, then a bed.

-

The next morning, Cody stares intently at the briefing’s logistical diagrams, carefully avoiding everyone else’s eyes. There was next-to-no-chance that their moaning and thudding had gone unheard. But they were all professionals, not to mention used to people letting off tension in high stress environments.

He does, however, desperately hope that everyone somehow missed the hours of incoherent crying that interrupted and followed otherwise fantastic sex. 

Plans are finalized, weapons are loaded, and comms are distributed. Two more rebels arrive. Pre-mission banter stays fairly tame, even after claiming one of the two bedrooms for themselves for a second and not significantly quieter night.

All things considered, when it comes time to establish operational codes, they don’t really have it in them to put up a fight against their unanimously designated callsigns.

They are a little less gracious on future missions when the code names repeatedly return.

 Nearly two decades later, at the physical ages of 72 and 58 respectively, Cody and Obi-Wan have more or less resigned themselves to being officially introduced as 'jailbait’ and ‘cradlerobber.’ 

[itsclydebitches]

None of them liked Ironwoods growingly tyrannical actions, it's the whole reason Ruby lies to him, he looked shady as hell. They are shown very clearly uncomfortable with what he's turned Atlas into in the First episode. It's just that at the end of Volime 7 he crossed the line.

The key words there are “first episode.” I’ve mentioned on other posts that if the plot had simply continued the forward momentum of the group being disgusted with Ironwood’s choices and working against him (hiding out in the city, gathering like-minded allies, etc.) then we would have been golden. Ironwood is Volume 7’s antagonist. There, done. The problem is what starts in the second episode. Our basic events are as follows:

The group (and audience) learn that Ironwood has arguably justified reasons for everything “shady as hell” that he’s done. The embargo? They are at war with Salem and people have been stealing resources since our introductory trailers (Blake). Soldiers in the streets? That first episode showed that grimm are attacking defenseless civilians and, if the soldiers hadn’t been there to fend the grimm off prior to Penny’s arrival, they likely would have died. Taking resources? That’s to re-establish global communications and enact a plan to stop Salem for good, freeing the world from the danger she presents. 

However, they’re still morally gray choices which our group could have opposed… but they didn’t. They join Ironwood as public allies (standing with Clover and Penny against Robyn), as Inner Circle allies (they learn all of Ironwood’s plans—and we learn that he never lied to them), as huntsmen (it’s his power as general that gives them their licenses), and as fellow soldiers (they are indistinguishable from the Ace Ops in the missions they conduct). Now toss in a bunch of other connections like living in his academy, taking his weapon upgrades, and carrying the Relic. They might not like his actions, but they’re certainly doing everything possible to support and reap the benefits of them. 

Ruby does lie to him… which two in the group oppose (however lackluster that was). Yang and Oscar both question the wisdom of doing the very thing they punished Ozpin for. Ren also develops a strong (if quiet) alliance with Ironwood that will carry into Volume 8... until his semblance changed and he forgot about it. 

During all this there are efforts—mostly through Nora—to condemn Ironwood for his choices. How can you continue to hurt the people like this? Same answer as above: because he believes a short-term struggle is worth the long-term victory. Nora doesn’t agree… but Ruby, the leader, does. She pushes Ironwood to finish Amity somehow.

Which is an incredibly strange stance to take considering she knows that amassing a world-wide army will not defeat Salem. If the group wants Ironwood to stop hurting Mantle, all they have to do is tell him that Salem is immortal… but they don’t. They let him continue under this false belief, despite having more information about this war than he does and despite that information being the key to stopping the harm he’s enacting.

The arc of the volume is not the group choosing to trust Ironwood and then realizing he actually isn’t trustworthy, it’s the group (or rather, Ruby) deciding not to trust Ironwood and then realizing he is trustworthy. We get that climactic scene of Ruby and Oscar simultaneously realizing they should tell him about Salem and Oscar apologizing for keeping that secret in the first place. 

 Note that this occurs after they’ve talked him into telling Mantle about her. So not only is the group not made up of mindless subordinates being ordered about by a powerful general—it’s their advice Ironwood listens to—but now they’ve put an entire city in the position they were in during Volume 6. We’re told, via Ozpin’s arc, that telling people about Salem without including the issue of her immortality is a horrific thing to do. Those like Qrow have supposedly “wasted” their lives fighting an impossible war and the fandom has argued strongly that Ozpin has manipulated everyone involved in this fight by not giving them the full picture. Yet now, the group has spent months keeping that information from Ironwood when his questionable choices are based on that ignorance, and they’ve talked him into telling half his population that Salem exists and they should rise up to fight her… but not the pesky detail that she’s immortal. They did to Ironwood and all of Mantle exactly what Ozpin did to them.

Immediately after hearing that they’ve kept this secret from him the entire time they’ve been here (which he takes very well) Ironwood captures one of their main villains, loses his arm in the process, learns that two in the group have outright betrayed him to a political enemy, learns that despite all their best efforts Cinder has just waltzed into his office, learns that Salem herself is on her way and their defenses are already gone, knows that everyone is exhausted from a major battle… so when he decides to take all of Atlas, the majority of Mantle, and the Relics/Maiden they have to try and get out of Salem’s reach… Ruby says no. What’s her plan? She doesn’t have one. You’re just not allowed to leave.

The problem with the writing is it wants us to believe two contradictory things at once. Looking back, Ironwood is meant to be seen as an unambiguously bad guy in Volume 7, which we know because of scenes like Winter’s fight wherein she condemns him for everything he did in Volume 7, not just Volume 8 stuff like threatening to bomb Mantle. Yet at the same time, we’re simultaneously meant to believe that the group is made up of unambiguously good people who function as direct contrasts to Ironwood. Given what we got, these two things cannot coexist! Either Ironwood was a good man who the heroes backed for an entire volume and there’s no acknowledgment of that, or Ironwood was a bad man… who the heroes backed for an entire volume and there’s no acknowledgment of that either. If the group’s defense is, “We knew he was shady as hell. We knew what he was doing was wrong. We knew he was the bad guy here… but we still helped him maintain power, forward his plans, and reap the benefits of the flawed system for months on end”… that’s really bad. “I supported, assisted, and benefited from the guy who was shady as hell, but that’s fine because I felt uncomfortable about it the whole time” is not the hot take the fandom wants it to be. We cannot make these broad, sweeping statements about how the Atlas military—merged with its huntsmen—is an Evil Thing and then show scenes like, say, Jaune using his military grade huntsmen license to convince a bunch of civilians to follow his evacuation plan. The heroes cannot be Good and Pure while supporting the supposed villains and their systems; or, the villains cannot be purely Bad and Evil if they’re supported by the heroes.

The reality is that RWBY is badly written and this sort of simplistic, inconsistent writing doesn’t lend itself to a topic as complex as this one. To be frank, we don’t even know enough to make informed decisions about these actions because the world building is nearly nonexistent. What are these “resources” and how are the resources to patch a hole in the wall the same as the resources used to make Amity Tower into a world-wide communication device? How much power does Ironwood actually have and what other decisions has he made that impact Mantle? We never hear about any policies to explain things like the poor conditions, or the slum areas with the faunus. Why are the civilians so against the soldiers patrolling when we don’t see them abusing the public in any way, but we do see the grimm threatening them on the regular? Why does Ruby want Amity built so badly—willing to hurt Mantle to do it—when she knows a bigger army isn’t the answer/that telling people about Salem has almost always led to panic and betrayal? Is there really any difference between huntsmen and soldiers here? And if the answer is, “Yes. Huntsmen aren’t beholden to any power. That’s a good thing because following orders is Bad. They do what they think is best” than what are we supposed to make of someone like Rhodes who, apparently, did what he thought was best? If he’d been beholden to some superior there might have been a system in place to help Cinder. As it was, he was left to his own devices and a lot of fans are furious with the solution he, as one flawed individual, came up with. We simply don’t have a good picture of this world and when we do, things constantly contradict. It’s good for huntsmen to make their own choices, but only when Ruby does it, not Rhodes. It’s bad for heroes to keep the Salem secret and tell lies to their allies, but only when Ozpin does it, not Ruby. It’s bad for someone to try and save who they’ve got, but only when Ironwood does it, not Ruby, who apparently left Atlas after failing to create portals for her Uncle, Robyn, the Ace Ops, Pietro, Maria, and an entire army.

The way that the fandom gets around these problems—because too few are willing to just acknowledge that they are problems and RWBY is shoddily written—is by simplistically comparing RWBY’s military to a real world one. I cannot tell you how many posts I’ve come across that amount to, “Imagine thinking the teenage girls are the bad guys when a military general is right there, being a military general 😒 ” Those posts imply that fans like me are too stupid (too brainwashed, too close to “bootlickers”) to be critical of the military, but I assure you, that’s as far from true as can be. Those posts are trying to conflate real life politics with a fantasy story whose world looks nothing like our own. The is not a question of being critical of the military, it’s a question of being critical of RWBY as that fictional text… and that fiction never established any of the military problems we deal with in the real world. It might have (very easily), but it didn’t. Is Ironwood leveraging his people to conquer others or go after wealth? No, his world has literal, unambiguously evil monsters to fight. Does he amass power out of a desire to control the people? No, he lays out his exact thoughts on how these measures will help protect against those monsters and a witch. Does the military abandon its soldiers after war, leaving them with few resources and fewer prospects? No, we never see anyone struggling in that manner and one of the most prominent tragedies—Yang losing a limb—is answered by Ironwood personally sending a replacement to her home. Is the military at least built around propaganda, painting civilians an inaccurate picture of Freedom and Glory to convince them to fight? No, we see no propaganda, Ironwood—since Volume 2—has been focused on replacing people with robots and our entire story is built around one child’s desire to fight the exact same battle. Why do you want to be a huntress, Ruby? Because I want to help people! And that goal is never painted as a naïve outlook that Ruby becomes disillusioned with. Posts like the one mentioned above bank 100% on the reader mapping real life military criticism onto RWBY… rather than actually looking at the world RWBY built, what choices the characters make, the amount of information we’re given (little), and whether that in any way reflects our current, political problems. It doesn’t. 

I’m never going to pretend there weren’t problems with Ironwood’s decisions. In fact, I love that this was actually a conflict in Volume 3 that gave both sides a fair shake: is it better to scare people and have an army at the ready to defend them, or is it better to keep them in the dark and potentially be defenseless? Ironwood’s kind heart bumping up against extreme measures is what made him compelling, especially when the story was having him grow in the “right” direction (AKA, listening to Ozpin). His treatment of Penny is another big issue, creating a whole ass person to serve as a military defense tool. That’s horrifying! So he’s absolutely had his problems long before the writing had him turn into a trigger-happy murderer, but part of the issue here is that the writing doesn’t acknowledge those problems in other characters. If Ironwood is “shady as hell” for forwarding a military agenda and using military resources… then so is Ruby, the leader who backed that for months. If Ironwood is “shady as hell” for funding the creation of a person to defend his kingdom… then so is Pietro, the scientist who not only built Penny, but came up with the idea in the first place. He’s not some defenseless victim who was forced by the evil Ironwood to create something morally reprehensible, he suggested it! The same way Winter wasn’t some defenseless victim who was forced by the evil Ironwood to go along with these plans. She supported them, agreed to be his Maiden, and was the first to suggest martial law! Yet Ruby, Pietro, Winter and their like are all presented as unambiguously Good People, whereas Ironwood is presented as the unambiguous Bad Guy—and when a lot of fans went, “But you’re not writing him like a Bad Guy? Especially when we compare him to the heroes?” we got his sudden, OOC murder streak in Volume 8. But it doesn’t work. Either the group is made up of morally gray/bad people because they did the things our antagonist Ironwood did, or Ironwood is not the morally gray/bad person the show insists he is (prior to Volume 8) because he did the same things as our heroes. You cannot give us that plot, those choices, that agency and insist on both at once. This problem has existed ever since we got an entire volume about how simplistically evil Ozpin is for keeping this secret… only for Ruby to immediately turn around and keep it herself, with no acknowledgement that either a) Ozpin wasn’t the bad guy then or b) Ruby is as bad as he is. But the show wants Ruby to be the Good Person in every situation, no matter how much she models her behavior after those she deems her enemies, and Ironwood’s arc only increased that problem tenfold.

[owlbeanies]

AU In which the beta Trolls cheat In sgrub in order to avoid the jack situation and managed to shoot themselves back in time onto alternia. They get separated into multiple small groups.

Story follows mainly follows karkat and gamzee at first. This is well before murderstuck, and gamzee is useful for all of two seconds before getting horrendous sick from withdrawal. It might not be so bad if they had a reliable way of getting food and other resources(such as an alchemizer) but sadly they've found themselves in the middle of a city pre-second rebellion with not a penny to either of their names.

Karkat is stressed. He is very stressed. He has to find a way to provide for both of them in a matter a nights without also getting caught and dieing. He makes a smart decision to hide his sign, not because he realizes it puts him in danger, no, because he immediately decides the only course of action that makes sense is to turn to a life of crime(petty theft) and he doesn't want his crimes attached to his sign incase he has to sign-off on some legal bullshit later.

Gamzee is dieing. Not really he's okay 60% of the time and does what he can to help, but honestly the boy can't stand for 30 seconds without trying to throw up his guts. Gamzee pretty much serves as a decoy to throw off anyone looking for karkat. He is the least intimidating thing out there, but boy can he play up the "let me call my friends " card, which with his sign is terrifying enough to prevent any mildly inconvenienced person to ask questions.

At some point karkat runs into dualscar. Now he knows of dualscar through eridan, and he's a little freaked out at first but nothing comes of it so whatever. But then he keeps running into him. It might be partially his fault. Drunk people are really easy to rob and all the bars are a short walk from the docks so of course he's probably going to run into a couple of sea dwellers. Besides, he's only ever spoken 2 words to the fucker on accident and he doubts he was even noticed. As long as he keeps his distance he should be fine.

Gamzee’s getting a whole lot worse a whole lot faster, and karkat has pissed off the wrong person. He might have accidentally stolen from and subsequently injured a legislators' quad and now they need to flee town REAL fucking quick. Only problem being they don't have a map, and all the maps in town are the really fucking stupid ones that are far more complicated than they need to be for the sake of- what? Looking nice? Either way none of them are simple road maps and maybe if he had enough time to stare at them he could figure out where to go without getting lost, but time isn't something they have and gamzee knows how to read them quickly, so he packs the clown up and carries him to the map board. Gamzee can't see straight and even the small amount of light from the partially blocked moons manages to feel as if he just stared directly into the sun but boy does he try.

Dualscar meanwhile is sitting across the street in one of those face outdoor restaurant tables watching these two kids scramble to read a map. He downs whatever he's drinking and walks over because what in the fuck are they doing?

Karkat tells him to fuck off and mind his business.

He doesn't.

Gamzee figures out where they need to go and points.

They're offered a ride.

They both adamantly refuse because no absolutely not that is a horrible idea they will not be doing that ever. Then a legislator walks around a street corner in the background and they seriously consider it.

They both end up on the boat one way or the other, and not necessarily because they had a choice. Dualscar writes gamzee off as dead immediately and has him put with the other prisoners on the ship to be forgotten about. He doesnt know what he has and doesn't really care either. Karkat on the other hand is treated decently well. He got stuck doing basic bitch ship work, but hes fine. Any free time he has he spends taking care of gamzee who lost all coherence shortly after being picked up.

When they hit the docks karkat is paid for his time and told to run off now. Karkat is pleasantly surprised and is glad to be back on land, theres just one problem, wheres gamzee? Karkat is basically told "haha yeah no I'm keeping that one" and is no longer pleased. After one of many long winded and empty threats, he's then told the ships leaving in a week and he's free to join them again if he wishes.

Angry and alone karkat stops off into the new city.

He return, rather quickly at that, after spending everything he had on medicine and other essentials. Immediately he's back at Gamzee’s side. The ship sets sail again right on schedule and gamzee finally seems to be improving. It takes a few months for him to figure out how to stand on his own but once he gets it he's as hyperactive as ever to his own detriment. His balance is shot, and he's somehow clumsier than before. He keeps getting himself hurt and even worse than that, he's annoying the guards with his constant rambling. Karkat has on multiple occasions been sent down to shut him up for a few hours.

The second he's able to work, he's put to work and thank fuck that seems to shut him up. Any time they hit land they're both paid but only one of them is allowed to leave at any given time. It's stupid, it's annoying, they both know why it's done, and it's not like there's anything they can do about it. At least they're living better than they were.

Enviably karkat gets hurt. They get hit with a storm and karkat arm get pinch between two bits of metal. The injuries isn't terrible but it did rip off a decent amount of skin. Even in the heavy rain it's not possible to hide. While no one paid him any mind in the chaos once the storm had settled he's well aware of how royally fucked he is. Gamzee for the first time anyone has seen him is pissed. He's hyper aggressive towards anyone in his vicinity. The second karkat could be whisked away he boarded them in one of the sleeping quarters and threatens anyone who tries to open the door. It gets bad enough dualscar has to come in and swat at the both of them for being dumb. Karkats having a panic attack. Lil ol' gamzee who nearly breaks his neck 3 times a weak tripping over his own shoes is squaring up for a fight. There is no fight. No one cares about karkat. Infact they were keenly aware of karkat's blood the second they saw him all that time ago. Why do you think they fought so hard to keep hold of some random wrigglers? That boat is the safest place for them. When dual was asked why he’d help them at all if he knew, he just shrugged and said he owed someone a favor and keeping karkat alive was his way of repaying it.

Shit gets squared away. Sort of. The both of them are still extremely uncomfortable about the whole ordeal for months but not a thing comes out of it. Nothing bad at least. The two find themselves getting more comfortable on the ship. They start seeing the rest if the crew as friends and grow tight bonds with a lot of them.

Karkat, now freed from the constant nagging fear of getting found out, ends up far more bold than he otherwise would be. The rule stating only one is allowed to leave at a time is still there, but pushing his luck is his new favorite pass time.

Gamzee sustained numerous injuries from his sickness. Even sweeps later he still hasn't fully recovered. It's not obvious. He functions just fine on his own but one night he'd been out walking the town on his own and he ran across a group of subjugs. He's younger and smaller than the lot of them, not to mention a stranger, but they still invited him out for drinks and gossip. He goes, and hours later he returns safely, tipsy and a little high off whatever they were smoking, but safe. Dual take him out back to yell at him almost as soon as he returns. He's confused. He's gone drinking on his own before, and he's been out with karkat numerous times more, and never has he been screamed at for it. He takes offense. The only difference he can see is them being purple. They're family, his family, but that doesn't mean he'd run off with them. He'd never leave karkat behind, not ever would he dream of abandoning him. But that wasn't the problem. He put karkat in danger. He put the crew in danger. Is he really so deadpanned that he didn't think partying with the grand highblood and crew was a bad idea? Now Gamzee’s lost. When did he run into his ancestors? No one introduced themselves as such. He hadn't seen them. Didn't really see anyone actually, especially not the person wearing the same sign as him, embroidered fancily across their chest and down their arms.

Hes blind. For all he fought that label, stating he still saw shapes and colors, for the first time he had to admit it to someone. He begged him not to tell karkat. The last thing he wanted was to worry him. He was told he needed to, at some point, preferably soon, tell him himself. He left the conversation with a new rule placed on him for the time being. He's not allowed off the ship alone anymore.

[ramblesofajester]

whispers of a witch (chap1/?

this is just a self indulgent fic for me to write when I feel like shit and yes it will have nsfw

info: they/them, curvy body, glasses, anxiety.

The cool wind sweep past your cheek as you squat down, fingers numbing and turning blue from the constant foraging across the forest floor to fine the herbs you require, its late winter and you have just run out of several herbs you use quite frequently for personal use and when healing the villagers. of course as always there is a catch when you need to get something done. one, you where delivering a baby a good portion of the day, then doing your normal round with the villagers, so soon night is to fall, two the Lycians have been testing there luck with the village borders as of resent, three the only place those herbs are left growing are near Heisenberg's land due to you harvesting all the more accessible ones previously. and just to top it all of duke wouldn't be able to gather a shipment until the next new moon, that being two weeks away so here you are right before dusk cut plants with frozen fingers outside of a missive chain-link fence in the middle of the woods. Gazing around, you are in a small clearing, the village is about a mile, mile and a half to the south west of here. the factory's smoke stacks just visible over the tree line. Sighing you focus on the task at hand, slowly griping the base of the plant you say thanks to the earth and pull it up root and all, listening to the birds as there song slowly drifted thru the trees. standing up you, make your way over to the next bushel of plants emerging from the thin coat of snow. suddenly all the brides stop singing setting off of several alarms in your brain knowing its wasn't you who disturbed them wiping around, franticly looking you hear and see movement all around you just out of sight in the brush you cant tell what it is. assuming it to be Lycians or and angry bear or even a stray ghoul from the castle grounds. garbing the dagger from your boot you crouch down to an defensive position slowly making your way toward the path you came from. as you take a step back slowly a few Lycian emerge from the tree line teeth bared eyes holding a burning hunger. a soft gasp leaves your lips if there are this many you know more are soon to follow

"well shit, I couldn't just go and have an easy day now could I?" you ask the Lycians sarcastically not really expecting a reply. a deep chuckle caught you off guard and in your shock you hear the swift shifting of metal. the feeling of cold steel on your ankle stealing your attention from the fast change of gravity as you are hoisted into the air, dangling like a prized fish. attempting to regain your bearings. you look around seeing the Lycian pack now completely surrounding you.

"well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," standing clear in the path arm outstretched to hold the chain around you feet taking a step further with every word.

"a lost little bunny, who is hoping around where they should not be..." he says in a little tune with mirth in his step. finally stopping right in front of you raising you so your face is level with his shoulders you reach out attempting to swipe at him with you dagger, as soon as you weapon is revealed is ripped from your grasp and now spinning around you and the lord. a large gloved hand grips your face forcing you to look at lord Heisenberg.

"now I cant tell if that was stupidity, or bravery little bunny but I'm guessing you dont know who I am." he speaks with amusement as he examines your face and, forces you to look at him. you stop squirming long enough to stare at the round shades perched on his nose. this being the first time you have seen the lord this close ,its usually only in passing or from the shadows as to not be noticed, but now you have to admit the stubble and scars, the cocky smile, the smell of oil, pine, smoke, and Tabaco is actually not that bad.

"No I know who you are, just really dont care cause I'm a little busy" you immediately wiggle from his grasp and start reaching for the chain around your ankles. a boisterous laughter is released from behind you and suddenly your falling about a meter, back connecting with the ground a large "oof" emanating from you. Rushing to get the chain from around you ankles it fly from your hands. jumping to your feet you face Heisenberg head held high

"oh... you do know me, so it must be stupidity, that must explain why your on my land as well" Heisenberg ponders aloud." so you must either be lost or have a death wish" he says with a chuckle

"nope not lost, just need some of the herbs here and if you live in this village and haven't runaway or offed yourself you have a death wish" you reply flatly brushing the dirt of of yourself as you stand to gather your things. "now" you say turning back to him "my dragger if you'd please" extending you hand cautiously with and expectants look.

"wow, you've got some balls on you" puffing on his cigar "you better watch that attituded bunny" you are suddenly painfully aware of the small pack of hunger Lycian circling you both "and remember who the man in control is" hand still outstretched you snap back with

"listen hear 'lord Heisenbitch' I am sorry for trespassing on you land but I need 7 different herbs and at least 5oz of each, I need them before tomorrow evening, some of them for mother Miranda, as well as a women who just gave birth in the village. Now unless you wish to explain to Miranda why her healer is missing, and her people dead due to illnesses I would like my dagger back and you and your fine fuzzy companions to kindly fuck of." you knew your words where dangerous but at this point in the evening you really didn't give a fling fuck and the shock on Heisenberg's face when he recognizes you almost made it worth it.

"Wait your Miranda's prized witch, oh man this is great, how have you lasted so long, your so small bunny" this just pissed you off more you want your dagger back but he's just so infuriating. your dont have time for this

"Fine, just keep the dagger" you say shoving past him. Growling at the Lycians blocking the path they stay there ground and growl back, only to glance behind you whimper, and slowly back away clearing the path. A chain roughly wraps around you waist spinning you around and pulling you flush against Heisenberg before returning to his trench coat pocket. blowing his smoke in your face he drawls

"wow wow wow, slow you roll peter cotton tail I ain't being stingy, I just wanna talk a little" as he says this he wraps his arm around you waist slipping your dagger back into its sheath leaving his hand to rest on the dip of your hip, the other griping your chin forcing you to look up at him

"Let. Me. Go!" you hiss out never braking your gaze of his glasses

"now what would Miranda think of this, her pet of the leash, not respecting or listening to your lord" he teases not lessening his grip at all

"I dont give a scraggly rats ass, just let me go you bastard!" you spit at him, resaving a chuckle as a reply .

"ohhh I like you bunny, you've got fight not a lot of that left hear any more. but I need something from you darling, so we are gonna take a little walk back to your place, your gonna help me, then ill help you with your little situation how does that sound there bunny?" spinning you around arm still securely on your waist, he starts to walk still puffing on his cigar, quickly you realize you have no choice in the matter. the Lycians slow start to follow you keeping there distance at about 3 meters back this continues for a wile and it might have even been pleasant having company for once on the walk, you if you ignore the hungry Lycians and the fear Heisenberg will get angry or be done with his little game. slowly the forest edge and the village come in to the distances well as a small well worn foot path leading into a thick pine forest near the base of the Benevento valley

"so bunny, which way is it" Heisenberg ask moving his arm up to rest on your shoulders using the other to jester at the path ways.

"This way" you mumble out, gesturing to the pine foot path. now moving forward on you own accord tiered of being user around like a lost child. you dont make it very far seeing as soon as you start to move away he tightens his grip

"ohh come on bunny, no need to get cold feet. your getting something good out of this too, you just chill a little there thumper" he says smirk never leaving his face.

"well it sure as hell dont feel like it, this feels more like a kidnaping only we are headed to my own dwelling" you watch as the pine trees grow thicker with every passing second drawing closer to your burrow. soon a large moon gate covered in rosemary and lavender comes into a view just beyond it several greenhouses small and large soft light emanating from a few

"Now hold up thumper if you have all of these, what were you doing traipsing around by my factory? you weren't trying to get my attention were you?" he jabs at you obviously trying to get a rise out of you.

"What I was looking for I do not grow because it is local and I had a store of some, but it a since been exhausted, lots of sick ones this season." you replied tiredly seeing as dusk has passed a wile ago and you had been called out well before day brake. now you where just too tired to deal with his shenanigans. continuing forward you approach the door and tap the center of the door with the old iron key handing from your neck three times then you insert it into the keyhole and twist it three times to the right and it slowly creeks open. rushing forwards in an attempt to put some distance between the two of you you start to tend to the fire stroking the coals and adding a few logs. while your bussing your self Heisenberg makes himself at home pulling out a chair and throwing his feet on top of the table and popping a new cigar between his lips . Turning to grab your tea pot you see this unfold waltzing over to him and slapping his feet of the table

"That is mahogany" as you say this he goes to protest " no 'lord' Heisenberg you in my domain now no feet on the table" you snatch the cigar from between his lip and toss it into the fireplace "and no smoking in the main room."

"alright, alright," he says holding his arms in the air "one you could have just put it out and handed it back thumper, and second of all watch who your talking to darlin" to this you quickly respond with

"Still dont care" he gives you grunt as a response

"third of all I still have yet to disclose the nature of my visit I need you to look at something for me" and with that he stands up his chest now centimeters from your nose he reaches for his hat and sunglasses setting them on the table, tossing his trench coat on to the chair. your face quickly turning a shade of red dark enough to rival the radishes out in garden as you realize just what he is doing. pulling of his shirt with a wince. Holding his shirt in his hands, you try not to make your gaze obvious, he slowly turns to reveal a large, deep laceration very poorly bandages and clearly in the throes of a terrible infection. you immediately push all other thoughts aside concern taking its place, you recognized this wound, you where present when he resaved it .

flashback

"you stupid man child, you know nothing you should just leave the talking to the adults like a good little boy"

"shut your dame hole you bitch"

they have been going at it for 37 minutes and counting Alcina said something Karl disagrees and so the back and forth begins about 5 minutes ago Karl brought out his hammer and been waving it out in the open. tensions have been rising and your a little worried it is about to get violent. Anggie who had been watching the argument from you lap starts to vibrate with joy sensing the approaching violence.

"ooooooooohhh its aaboutttttt tooo get goooooodddddd!!!" she sings while hoping off your lap to sit closer on donnas lap seeing as you are perched by the back wall behind Miranda. and just as you both had predicted disaster struck.

"you insolent fool." Alcina suddenly cry's, swiping her hand forward as Karl turns his back to her slashing from shoulder to hip. you immediately rush forward, only to be stopped by mother Miranda holding her arm in your path.

"ENOUGH, stop the foolishness NOW!" Miranda's voice ringing out clear through the entire hall "Heisenberg my son, stand," she demands. he slowly makes his way to his feet now facing mother Miranda "your actions have been stupid and reckless as punishment, I shall leave you with this burden to care for. maybe it will teach you how much effort it takes heal rather than destroy. and what if feels like to live with ones mistakes." you hand covers your mouth as you bite your tongue. you may not like Karl that much but he still is not as bad as they say.

end scene

"BY THE GODS, how has this not healed yet!? have you been rubbing dirt in it? I knew this was a stupid lesson. I knew I should have gone against that two faced, false goddess, pretensive ass, bitch and marched my happy ass to that factor. THAT WAS TWO WEEKS AGO, this should have been gone ages ago!!!" you shout while carefully examining the laceration. quickly you pull out the char he was previously siting on out, so he could sit on it with his back to the fire and lean on the back of the chair. grabbing Heisenberg's shoulders you gently shove him into the chair. rushing around you grab several herbs hanging from the ceiling in bundles. then over to the counter you produce a mortar and pestle along with several oils and extracts

"woooow, thumper slow down, slow down," he chides calmly garbing your shoulders, your arms still packed full of items. slowly he starts to set the items on the table. "now I didn't rub dirt in it, but there might be some oil, its not healed because I have no idea how to treat a wound this large. and what's this about Miranda being a bitch and ignoring orders?" as he says this you realized just how bad you have fucked up.

"OH MY GODS, I didn't mean a word of it lord Heisenberg I meant no disrespect please I am so sorry dont tell mother Miran-" you franticly bow keeping your eyes to the floor hoping he would ether spare you make you death quick. while he clearly doesn't like Miranda or her family he was still a part of it.

"hay hay hay thumper calm down your alright. I'm not gonna go all psycho on you, and your secret is safe with me, your not the only one with unsavory views on that bitch Miranda." your slowly look up at him in shock it is widely know that he disagree with the other lords but this is a first. you gingerly make your way over to the table and start to mix together several herbs and flowers. "and thumper just call me Karl" he says with a flirtatious grin, you blush but grinding the herbs into a powder

"only if you stop calling me thumper." slowly adding some drops of oils to the mixture making a thick green salve.

"well I gotta have something to call you bunny" he say grin stretching across his face as you blush even more now

"well my name is (Y/N) ok, now stop" you say while puffing up you cheek in a pout. rushing behind him so he can no longer see your face and you can apply the salve" this is going to sting" not give him tome to proses any thing you said you rip off the bandages and start to carefully apply the salve. a shout bubbles up in his throat the second the salve touches his shoulder

"SON OF A Bitch..." he snarls" maybe a little more warning next time y/n" as soon as he growls out your name you short circuit you hand no simply resting next to his wound "y/n... y/n" he waits a couple of seconds before trying again. "y/n!" jumping a little you come back to reality " you all good back there" Karl questions

"almost done just need to finish this up, then I will apply bandages, and all you need to do is rest for a day or two" as you Finnish saying this you reach for he bandages and gently begin to properly wrap the wound "this is how you properly wrap a wound Karl" you make sure to say first his name. "go all the way around and over and around the shoulder" slowly and carefully placing the bandages showing him the movements and positions. you move around to the front of lightly wrapping his shoulder "dont go to tight when bandaging joints, it increases mobility but not lose enough to move" as you speak solely focused on you task at hand you dont see Karl staring at your face, a look of adoration on his face which he is quick to drop once you turn to him. gently patting his shoulder "now all you need is a lot of rest and a hot meal" smiling you slowly make your way over to the fire removing the teapot and hanging a medium sized cauldron over the fire. turning kettle in hand you see Karl putting on his hat and going to pull his coat on having already put his shirt on

"well thumper its been wonderful but I have to get back to my-" you cut him off taking his coat and hanging it by the door.

"oh no you don't, you need rest and real food, and not to make any assumptions but I doubt you'll get any of those in your factory" as you say this you put the chair back in its normal position swiftly going to a small spare room on the side. grabbing a thick blanket you walk to the table, and drape it over the back of the chair. patting it flat you open your arms and jester to the chair "now please have a seat food will be done shortly" you say with a smile as he just stand there slack jawed at you attempting to boss him around. slowly he take a seat and just watches as you prepare a cup of tea for you both "hear this should help with the pain" you say handing him a large mug that still looked too small in his hand. you turn and head back to the counter and start dicing us vegetables and some fish to put the cauldron.

"thank you" he mumbles quietly watching you dance about the kitchen a soft smile on his face. "so what's your story? you obviously dont like Miranda so why stay and be her little pet healer on her beck and call." Karl jests wanting to know more about you now that he has the chance with out his stupid family there

"well a long time ago I has someone I had to look out for, they needed help I could not provide it, Miranda could. So I made a deal, help her, and ill do as wish. So I comply to keep her safe and happy, if it went for her, I would have sent that false deity to her flaming grave decades ago." you finished cutting the veggies and meat depositing it in the pot, you make your way opposite of Karl at the table and take a seat. slowly sipping your tea. "now I just tend to the villagers for Miranda and visit my belladonna"

"wait who is belladonna" he askes a look of confusion overtaking his features

"my apologies, I mean donna, before Miranda adopted her and gave her her gift she was a sad and lonely child with parents too ill to save, so after her parents passing, I watched over her and loved her as my own" you say a soft smile on your face looking around the room I was the only one she let touch Anggie, she was such a kind child asking so many questions behind closed doors and always eager to learn new skills" you reminisce the old days setting your now empty cup on the table. "but now she's grown and well, and happy, so that is all that matters" you say curtly standing and heading over the the bubbling pot of stew and giving it a stir.

"so wait your telling me you the witch who raised Benevento," Karl spouts astonishment clear in his voice. "One how are you not dead yet? Two that's why you spend so much time in that spooky ass house, and three how come you aren't an old hag you dont look a day over 25?" even in shock this man some how still manages to throw in a flirt. you give a small chuckle.

"well when I struck my deal with Miranda," you make you way over to a tall cabinet and withdraw two wooden bowls and a large ladle ." donna was just become a young adult, so she new what excepting Miranda's gift would entitle, including the prolonged life." returning to the stew and scooping a hefty serving into Karl's bowl and only filling your half way. "after her parents suicided she couldn't handle the loss another parental figure, her words not mine, she refused the treatment unless Miranda changed me as well." hanging the ladle on the wall and carefully turning back to Karl and making your way to him. "I had already had my go at life and helped as many as I could so I agreed not expecting to come out alive," you say calmly sitting down in the seat acres from Karl. "unfortunately my will was to strong so hear I am now, a fail experiment serving out my end of the deal" you give a sarcastic smile and do a little jazz hands as your story comes to a close. Karl is still for moment then burst into a deep laughter, but still alarmed at your willingness to except death.

"I'm sorry bunny I dont mean to be insensitive," he attempts to suppress his chuckles. "you are really the one that raised donna?"

"yes I am I know its a little hard to believe, but yes." you say solemnly feeling a little weird everyone who knew you too be donnas nanny have long since passed.

"no no no, there ain't nothing wrong with that darlin! In fact you did fucking awesome, out of all of us monsters she has the best manners and turned out the best." he says in a panicked tone, afraid he has said something wrong.

"Karl none of you are monsters, and your ok you didn't say anything wrong" you say quickly adding " none of you are monsters! you and the other were forced into the experiments, unlike donna and I. your only a monster when you subject an enter village to a false religion just to slaughter them for her experiments under the name of a sick false family she has not love for!" you say venom and hate for that hag dripping from each word. a stern but caring look on your face as you look rights in his eyes as you say this "you aren't a monster. you where a kid with out a choice, and now you are a man surviving and your doing amazing in your situation." you cautiously grab his hand resting in the table " you are not a monster no mater who has told you that including your self" He pulls back lightly but does not remove your hand from his., allowing you to rub his knuckles.

"but I-" he starts but you dont let him continue

"nope you cant convince me other wise, I'm the village crazy witch I am all knowing and wise." you say in a cherry tone, garbing his hand with both of yours. using one to tap out a small tune on the back of his hand. that nice deep laughter made an appearance again you have to admit its nice to hear him laugh instead of ague with everyone.

"well dame bunny, can't argue with that logic now can I " A large toothy grin takes over his face little crinkles show at the corners of his eyes. shaking his head he gives a chuckle then picks up the bowl of stew and finishing what was left in the bowl in a few gulps. setting the bowl down he asks "shit that hit the spot, can I just take you home with me and have you cook for me every night that some dame good stew" he jokes. laughing a little you finish your bowl, garbing his you stand and bring them to a bucket at the end of the sink.

"no I cant come home with you every day" rinsing the plates before setting them in the bucket you continue. "but you can come over when ever the lantern on the porch is light, if its not I am either in the village with a patient, or visiting donna or Miranda, or foraging. I am a busy witch Karl, just a warning." he chuckles

"ill make a note of that expect me often that shits good." he says pointing at the pot hanging over the small flames.

"well in that case ill put some in jars so you can take it with you when you leave tomorrow" you say off handedly while making your way over to the pot fishing the leftovers out, and putting it in two large mason jars. out of the corner of your eye you see him deflate a little when you when you mention his departure tomorrow. moving over to a wall of cupboard you store the two jars "to night you can take my bed or the cot in the guest room, though I dont know if you'll fit" you say walking over to said door and opening it reveling a small room with a vanity in the back left corner to the left of the door was a small sink and counter with a basin next to it. opposite to that was a small cabinet and in the back right corner a small wooden cot about half the side of the man now standing directly behind you in the doorway. so close, when he took a deep breath you could feel his shirt brush your, and his warm breath fans across your neck. now with bright red face you make you hastily make you way to the cabinet to the right of the door and start to grab a large quilt and a pillow or two. Karl enters the room looking around taking in the new environment and casually making his way over to the cot and taking a seat. you head over to him staring at the blanket hoping that he would not see your face

"thank you, y/n you really could've just sent my packing I really appreciate it I do" he says with a soft smile resting on his scared face, 'it suites him,' you think to your self 'he should smile more.'

"well hear you go this should be think enough it gets pretty chilly in hear and I haven't fixed the heater yet so if you need more there are some in the cabinet you say gesturing to the cabinet with your head. holding the blanket and pillow out for him to take he reaches hands grazing against yours as he takes them from your hands pulling them closer"

"thanks bunny I re-" he is abruptly cut short by a sharp wine of wood under duress followed quickly by a loud snap of the cot braking a the loud thud of Karl's ass hitting the floor. "OH FUCK" Karl was now the one looking up at you. slapping a hand over your mouth to suppress the laughter about to burst from you.

"OH by the gods, are you ok" you say still trying to hold back the onslaught of giggles offering a hand for him to take

"so this is what the weather is like down here" he says jokingly as you hoist him off the ground carful of his shoulder and back. gently slapping his chest

"I'm only a little shorter than you, ya know" you say "but in light of me needing to purchase a new cot from duke, I guess you'll be sleeping in my bed tonight." he gives you a flirty look

"dame thumper if you wanted me in your bed that bad all you had to do was ask not buries my ass first" he says with a deep chuckle.

"I am not tying to get you in my bed" you say panicked face exploding with red. "I wont even be in it with you, and secondly it wasn't that far of a drop so the only thing damage was you ego and my cot obviously. now come follow me please." you say now attempting to lead him out of the room. Karl looks at you as if he was trying to figure something but soon trailing behind you like a lost puppy. you lead him through the main room down a hallway with three doors heading to the furthest down you push open the heavy wooden door. letting Karl enter first you make your way to the bed garbing your favorite pillow and a thick blanket off the bed spread "well she's all yours" you say jokingly waving your arm over the bed as a invitation dont lay on your back or shoulder" you say making your way back to the door arms now full "sleep well." and with at you turn to leave only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

"wait if I'm sleeping here and I just demolished your spare bed where will you be sleeping" he ask concern lacing his voice a he turn you around to face him

"well ill go clean up the old cot and then ill just use some spare blankets as a mattress for the night." you say with out a second thought.

"no no no, I will not let you do that you have done enough for me. I'll just go back to my factory and be out of your hair." your face scrunches up.

"you say that as if I am annoyed by you, but I can assure you, you do not annoy me. next I wont let you leave this hut you need to rest and I need to change those bandages as soon as you wake." you say no room for argument evident in your voice. "and if you have such an issue using my bed but I apologies its the only one, and I wont let you sleep on the floor with that wound." you with finality.

"then I guess well just have too share it. cues I will just jump through a window to go back home" he say with a laugh. you have no idea if he was joking or not. still, gazing up at his face the smirk remained "so" he asks "which will it be will you join me or and I gonna have to practice my long distance sprint." you sigh growing tired with every passing second your long day finally catching up too you. no longer having any energy to argue.

"fine" you huff out walking over to the bed where Karl was I like the right side" climbing in you take a body pillow from the back of the bed putting it in the middle " you better stay on your half of the bed old man" you say climbing back down from the bed and heading a dresser under a large window. you produce a pair of sleep thin pants and a large think white long sleeved shirt. "I need to change so ether steep out or just dont look." to tired to care at this point you look over your shoulder and see him turned away from you sitting on the left side of the bed. replacing your dirty clothe with fresh sleep pants and a oversized top. garbing a spare pair of large sleep pants and shirt before making your way back to the bed, flopping onto it comically ,while tossing the change of clothing on his side of the bed "hear you go, this should fit" he looks down at the articles of clothing.

"well thank you bunny," undoing his belt and changing his pant, completely ignoring the new shirt. "but uhhh I dont think that shirt is gonna work though" he says smirk evident in his voice.

"and why would that be-" you ask confusion clear on you face as you roll over to face him without thinking. face exploding in color as you freeze up, now staring at his bare chest brain loosing any train of thought.

"my eyes are up hear now bunny," he says with a deep chuckle "but please dont let me interrupt your staring. as for why I never sleep with one its confining" smirk never leaving his face, as he lays down on his half of the mattress. quickly you roll over

"I wasn't staring, I zoned out. Just toss the shirt on to the top of the dresser" he gives another chuckle but says nothing. pulling the thick comforter up to you chin due to the chill, reaching over you turn the knob on the lantern smothering the flame. "good night Karl sleep well" you say without a second thought closing your eyes slowly, reality fading out as you hear Karl

"goodnight thumper sleep well" a gentleness to his tone that sends the rest of the way to sleep.

word count: 5884

ps: please forgive my horrid grammar

[after-avenging-hours]

Heart Skip [16]: Steve x Reader

Series Summary:  A soulmate AU where from the moment you are born, two partners share a heartbeat.  They race in times of joy, slow in times of sadness, and they skip at the same moment.

Word Count: 2236

Warnings: ANGST, couple quarrel, yelling, light swearing, heart ache

Heart Skip / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 /  Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 /  Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15

Steve’s eyes blink open and it takes a second for his vision to clear up. His lips pull into a frown as he tries to figure out where he is, but the movement of his lips makes his face hurt. Just about everything hurts. It doesn’t take long for him to figure out that he’s in the hospital. He looks around, catching sight of Sam sitting next to him.

“On your left,” he speaks, his voice sounding gruff in his ears.

Sam glances up from his book, meeting his gaze and smirks. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Steve makes another sweep of his eyes around the room. “Where’s Y/N?” he asks.

The question sobers Sam a little. “She’s on the first floor. Getting treated for shock.” He sees the concern growing in Steve’s eyes. “Nat’s with her. She’ll be okay, but you nearly dying put some strain on her heart.”

“Shit,” Steve grimaces, hating that once again he’s causing you to have heart problems.

“Let me text Nat to let her know you’re awake. I’m sure they’ll be able to bring Y/N up here.” Sam closes his book and walks around Steve’s bed to grab his phone off the docking station.

A few minutes later, the door swings open and Nat walks in, wheeling you in a hospital wheelchair. Sam shifts his chair back to make room, so Nat can wheel you to the bedside. “Steve…” you breathe his name with relief, seeing that he’s truly awake. Nat locks the wheels of your chair before she and Sam step out to give you both some privacy.

“You okay?” Steve asks in concern, reaching for your hand.

You quickly burst into tears. “I should be asking you that,” you speak through your sobs. “I was so scared you were-” you choke on another sob, unable to continue.

Steve squeezes your hand, feeling a pang in his chest from your pain. “Oh, Y/N… Please don’t cry. I’m okay.” he swipes his thumb over the back of your hand, wishing he had the strength to pull you into his arms.

You sniff your nose and wipe your free hand over your eyes. “I’m crying because you ruined my uniform and now it can’t be returned back to the museum.”

Steve huffs out a short laugh, before groaning in pain. “Sweetheart, please don’t make me laugh,” he winces, holding his other hand against his stomach, where his gunshot wound is just beginning to heal.

You bite your bottom lip and give him an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

He gives you a half-smile of reassurance with the undamaged side of his mouth. “S’okay. I do already feel a lot better having you here with me.” His eyelids begin to grow heavy and his blinks are slower. “I’m still pretty tired though…” he sighs quietly.

You move your second hand to where he holds your first and gently run your fingers up and down his forearm. “You should sleep some more. Your body needs time to heal.” The words have no sooner left your mouth before he’s fallen back asleep.

Sam and Natasha come back in a little later. You thank them both heavily for being there for both you and Steve. After a few hours, Steve wakes back up and feels better enough to insist that you should be discharged and taken somewhere to get some rest for yourself. The apartment complex you both were living in is still considered a crime scene and isn’t safe for you to return to by yourself. Nat was able to sneak into the building to get you a change of clothes and your toiletries, so you could at least change and get some rest at a hotel near the hospital.

You’re sitting at Steve’s bedside the next day when someone new enters the hospital room. The man wears a three-piece suit and a pair of sunglasses, even though he’s indoors. Steve raises a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting as much as the stitches in his cheek will allow. “Tony?”

“Cap,” the man greets with a nod.

“Did you bring me flowers?” Steve asks dubiously, noting the colorful bouquet in the man’s arms.

“These are actually for Miss America,” Tony smiles charmingly, handing the bouquet to you. “We haven’t met yet. Tony Stark.”

You release a small laugh and stand up to take the flowers from him. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

Tony gives you a once over as you cradle the flowers to your chest, before sending a smirk to Steve. “She’s entirely too cute for you.”

“Believe me, I know,” Steve agrees, sending you a look that makes your face hot.

Tony moves to stand at the foot of Steve’s bed and looks him over. “Wow, you didn’t even look this bad after New York.”

Steve shoots him a dry look. “Thanks,” he responds flatly, making you giggle. Steve’s eyes move to you and they immediately turn soft.

“I hear the both of you are in the market for some decent housing,” Tony speaks up, gripping the rail at the foot of Steve’s bed. The two of you share a curious look before turning back to Tony. “Avengers Tower is now fully operational. I wanted to extend a formal invitation to you both. There’s plenty of room, you can even have a whole floor to yourselves if you so desire. Banner’s already been staying with us. Thor pops in every once in awhile when he’s not off with his scientist lady. I would have reached out earlier, but you seemed rather content in your little bubble. At least until that bubble popped into an inter-agency conspiracy… Sorry about that, by the way.”

“…Are you asking us to move to New York?” Steve questions.

Tony shrugs casually, trying to downplay it. “I’m just saying, the offer is there.”

You and Steve share another look. Steve looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed and start packing now. You’re much more hesitant. It feels like you were just beginning to get used to some semblance of a normal life, but now everything’s been turned upside down. Again. The only thing that seems to be consistent in your life is its inconsistency. Steve’s brows furrow when he reads the hesitation in your eyes. “Can we think about it?” he finally asks Tony.

“Sure thing. No pressure. You know how to find me,” he taps his hands against the bed rail before taking his leave.

“You okay?” Steve asks, the concerned crease appears between his brows.

“Yeah,” you force a smile. “It’s just been a strange couple of days.”

--

With Steve’s accelerated healing, he recovers enough to get released from the hospital a few days later. The chaos around your apartment building has eased up and you’re allowed to stay there once again. Steve’s apartment is still technically considered a crime scene, so he just grabs a few essentials and stays with you. He’s currently making dinner, while you work on a school reading assignment at the table.

“I think we should move to New York,” Steve speaks, breaking the otherwise comfortable silence of the room.

You immediately pause in the middle of the notes you’d been writing. You absorb his words before releasing a long sigh and set your pen down. You’ve been dreading this conversation ever since it was brought up as an option. “You’re really ready to just jump back into it, aren’t you?” your question comes out in a strange mix of disbelief and resignation.

Steve gives you a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

You pin him with a look that says it should be obvious to him. “You almost died, Steve. Shouldn’t that warrant at least some consideration into your life choices before you jump into the next thing?”

He looks back at you incredulously, like he can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “I’m needed as Captain America. That’s not a choice. That’s who I am.”

“No,” you deny fervently. “Captain America is a job. Who you are is Steve Rogers.”

He narrows his eyes into a pointed look. “I can’t stop, not when I know that Hydra is still out there. The world needs Captain America. Now more than ever.”

You huff in frustration. “The world is always going to need Captain America. But I need Steve Rogers.”

“Please don’t make me do this,” he shakes his head slowly, pain filtering into his eyes. “Don’t make me choose between one life and the rest of the world.”

“It’s not just one life, Steve. It’s two! This is your life, too! Our life!” You urge, begging him to see it. “And you’re letting it slip through your fingers,” the pain in your own chest makes your voice waiver.

“Why are you making such a big deal about this? The only decision we’re making is whether or not to move to New York.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” You give him a blatant stare. “Maria told me what really happened up there.” Steve’s face blanches at your words. “Did you even think about me when you gave her the order to bring down the airship while you were still on it?”

He releases a long sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping his gaze. “Of course, I did. But I didn’t have a choice.”

You scoff dryly, looking off into the distance, unable to stand looking back at him. “There’s always a choice, but I guess it will never be me.”

“Y/N, that’s not fair.”

Irritation creases your brow when you finally turn back to meet his gaze. “Don’t you want a future together? To settle down? To get married. Have children. Don’t you want any of that?”

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and shrugs a shoulder. “I thought I did. But that was before…” His voice trails off.

You look at him incredulously. “Before what?” you question. “Before you woke up in the future?” you guess. But then you come to the realization, “Or before you took the serum and became Captain America?”

He releases a soft sigh. 

“I don’t know.”

Your lungs make every breath feel like the vice around them is growing tighter. “When you stepped into that pod, did you even once consider the things you would be losing?”

“You wouldn’t have been happy,” he tries to give an excuse but you’re not having it.

“No, Steve. You wouldn’t have been happy. You’re always telling me that you think I needed you to be strong, to be a hero… But I didn’t. I never cared about how tall you were, or how much weight you could lift. I would have been happy with you before the serum. Because I love you, Steve Rogers. Not Captain America. You are enough for me. You’re all I want. But I guess I’m not enough for you.”

“Don’t say that. You are enough.”

“Am I? Then why are you so willing to run out that door, every day?”

“Because the world needs me! If I don’t fight for what’s right, then who will?”

Your eyes turn sad as you look back at him. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting; you don’t know how to stop picking them. Do you?”

His jaw clenches and there’s a tick in his cheek, but he doesn’t grace that with a response.

“If Steve Rogers is worthless to Captain America? What does that make me?” You let the question hang in the air for a moment, but the sadness within you only grows as he continues to remain silent. “I guess I’ll only ever be a liability.” You don’t give him much of a chance to respond to that. It’s becoming too much; you have to get out of this room. Pushing your chair back, you stand from your spot at the table and head for the doorway out of the kitchen.

“Y/N,” Steve calls. “We’re not done talking about this. Come back,” he speaks sternly. When you don’t even pause, Steve releases a harsh huff. “Y/N, that’s an order.”

As soon as the words are out in the air, Steve immediately regrets them. Your entire body stiffens, back straightening, shoulders tensing. 

When you slowly turn back around to face him, there’s a fire in your eyes. “Excuse me?” you ask dangerously. Tears of frustration and pain line the rim of your eyes, threatening to spill over. “You do not get to give me orders,” your tone is sharper than a blade. You shake your head at him in disbelief. “You are my soulmate. NOT my captain!”

The look of disgust that crosses your features pierces Steve’s gut. He can’t even find the words to try to stop you when you walk away from him again. There’s a resounding slam of the bedroom door coming from deep within the apartment.

“Damn it,” he huffs, mostly annoyed with himself now. He runs both hands through his hair, gripping tightly at the short strands. There’s a hollow sort of ache deep within his chest that he’s never felt before. It’s horrible.

What happens next is so much worse.

Through the walls of the apartment, Steve’s sensitive hearing picks up on the sound of your utterly broken sobbing. It’s enough to bring him to his knees. His back slides against the kitchen cupboards as he sinks to the floor. If there’s a hell on earth, this is it.

[diary-of-an-onliner]

feet on the ground [f.w.]

word count: 3381

warnings: none

a/n: this is based on, and a counterpart/continuation of @ickle-ronniekins 's head in the clouds — thanks for the inspo babe, this one is for you

Fred Weasley was not happy. Sure, he had made a lot of questionable, or as other people like to say 'bad', decisions in his life, but taking Care of Magical Creatures was one of the worst. Yes, it made Hagrid ecstatic, and that's always a good thing to see; yes, it's useful for his future business. However a hellfire-cracken the size of a shoebox was making him rethink his choices.

For the lack of a better distraction, he focused on digging a hole in the grass with his trainer as Hagrid’s rumbled instructiones flew over his head, missing both ears and zooming away into an indifferent oblivion. George is taking this already, he looked to George, who was quite enchanted with his partner, and thoroughly enjoying it, couldn't we have split up? He kicked the dirt lightly, startling the girl next to him.

Neither Fred nor his Slytherin partner were thrilled with each other,but misery loves company, so it might be for the best.

"How's the weather up there?" said his partner, who was crouching eye — er, shell-level, with the creature, but keeping her distance nonetheless. Her hair waved and flickered on her shoulder as she bounced on her heels.

"Immaculate, thanks for asking." he said, not wanting to get closer to the scorpion-lobster lovechild from the asshole of hell. "Y'know Hagrid said those things burn, bite, and sting, right?"

"So do I.” she said sarcastically, still keeping her gaze tied to the monster. “I'm not going to touch it, I'm just looking. You're aware we need to sketch it, label its parts and write an essay about it later?" Fred shifted his weight from foot to foot restlessly.

"Yes." his nostrils flared.

She pursed her lips and, after a moment of silence, said: "I dare you to touch it."

He crossed his arms. "I am not taking dares from you. We met three minutes ago and I haven't enjoyed a second of it."

"What's up your ass?" she turned to him, still crouching. "Actually, I don't care. Just don't take it out on me." The creature clicked their — tail? — pincers? — their something.

"I wasn't—" she raised an eyebrow and he fell silent, and looked away.

"'m not very thrilled to be here." he mumbled. "And that ugly death trap isn't making it better. Can we start over?" he asked, sighing and tiredly sweeping his left hand through his hair, and offering his right to her.

She took it and pulled herself up, then promptly smoothed out her skirt, shook his still proffered hand, and introduced herself.

Unlike his messy untucked shirt, her uniform was pressed down to the socks and her shoes held no traces of mud. It gave her a calculating, and slightly cold aura, as if she was drawn with a set of rulers and a compass. She was probably more geometrical than anyone who had ever taken Care of Magical Creatures.

"Fred." he said, even though she knew.

"Well Fred, we will be working together on this Blast-Ended Skrewt for the next few weeks, so that 'ugly death trap’ is our son you're talking about." she chided with a smile that better belonged on a sly fox rather than a girl.

"You sound very attached to it." he shot back. An idea, a thought, a silver of a notion that this might be fun slithered along the floor of his skull.

"Him.” She corrected with her pointer finger in the air. “And it's called being a good parent." she lightly jabbed him in the chest.

"Okay then. Go pet your son." Fred smirked.

They turned toward the beast which was playing in the grass like a puppy. It seemed to be wiggling its tails.

Her eyes narrowed: "Which part is the head?"

"I don't know. We should probably figure it out, since the other side shoots flames." he said in an amused tone.

"It's supposed to be a sucker, so it might be the penis-looking side." he chuckled, but when she turned to stare at him expectantly, his red eyebrow jumped in question. A breeze ruffled their hair.

"Go on then, don't be shy, we need to compare." she said flatly.

He burst out laughing so hard, a few people around them turned to stare - quite a dangerous thing to do at the moment seeing as some of the beasts started snipping. A yelp sounded from afar, and Fred laughed even harder.

At least his partner is funny.

"Seriously though, this thing is going to fire-fart on us soon and we need to figure it out."

“You don’t feel better in nature?” her tone piqued as she turned the pages of a book. Their desk was covered with them, during the first of their many study meetings.

“No.” Fred played with his quill, spinning it through his fingers. “You do?”

“I feel clearer, especially near water.”, thump, she shut her book and discarded it.

“How come?” he balanced on the back legs of his chair, eyes darting around.

“I don’t know. It’s not a thing I question.”, flip, flip, flip, “It just lures me out of my head, and makes me feel a little more real, like I’m aware of my own existence. Sharper, yknow?”

Fred shook his head.

“I don’t have a need to get out of my head, it’s great in there.” he joked. She snorted and passed him a book with a piece of paper sticking out.

“Don’t you? You seem to be in there a lot though. I think you think too much.” Fred chukled, “That’s something I've never been told.”

“Then it’s about time.” she threw his way, but she had yet to look at him, Fred noted. The idea of her as geometrical played around in his head. “Try it next time. People exist a little sharper sometimes. It stops you from feeling like you’re going to float away.” her eyes finally flickered to him like two needles of her compasses, and shot him down. His chair hit the ground.

Before Fred had a chance to say something else or roll her idea around in his brain, she passed him a piece of parchment with a soft order to, “Write.”

His diagram of their unnamed child was much neater than hers, but his illegible handwriting distracted from it perfectly.

"That is not a t."she said, her hair almost electrified from stress-combing it with her hands.

"It's obviously a g." he chirped, but his tone sounded worn down all the same. She squinted at the paper with her mouth open for a moment, then gave up.

"How are you still this peppy?" she asked as her gaze lazily rolled itself away from the books. His tie was completely undone and being used as a bookmark, his shirt unbuttoned and ruffled like his hair, ha, carrot head!, but he took no note of it as he balanced on the back legs of his chair again. Every so often, a clank would sound amid their conversation when the chair struck against the stone floor and his feet hit the ground, before he leaned back again.

"What are you talking about? I'm knackered." he yawned.

She looked up, and her thoughts leaked out of her head. The scenery through the window behind him was gorgeous, lit on fire by the dusk— oversaturated reds and pinks which lined the dark purple clouds.

With a loud tap on the library floor, the front legs of Fred's chair touched the ground and his head covered the sun perfectly, giving him a golden lining and making his orange hair melt into the background. The clear lines of his face looked almost chiseled in contrast to the haziness behind him.

A weight settled in the center of her torso, an iron bowling ball rolling between her stomach and her heart. He was handsome. She knew this. But she used to know it the way one knows they should drink water when they’re thirsty. Knowing you needed it after you drink him in, swallow, and sign, is another story.

She felt a warm metal line grow out of her chest, like a vine towards the sunlight, enter his chest and settle.

For a few moments she imagined it. She tried to note the dragging sensation of warm iron and let herself be pulled to him. She imagined the ball rolling in his center, and all his squirming being in an attempt to adjust it instead of just staying awake.

Then she blinked. Took in the real scene. Despite being exhausted, she felt tranquil in their little corner filled with books and a few very ugly sketches. She picked one up.

“Are we allowed to call his head a dick?” She questioned, but Fred just yawned and shrugged. His chair tipped back again.

“You’ll hurt yourself.” She said flatly, words moving from line to line like trains with the shittiest track designs ever.

“The thrill keeps me awake.” he closed his eyes, hair still a burning red. She didn’t dare look at the Sun for too long. Her eyes tried to follow the words. The ball rolled.

He slid another sketch towards her. “I think we should use this one.”

She put the first one aside, their hands brushing as she took the new parchment. She heard the scraping of his chair on the floor as he moved closer until his collarbone pressed against her shoulder as he leaned over to point. The body heat he was emitting only reminded her of the weariness her body carried. It also refashioned her bowling ball into an anchor slowly sinking through her stomach, tickling her insides on the way down.

The sketch was neater and much simpler than others, no more than a handful of black lines on a yellowing parchment.

“This part is the head.” Fred pointed out. “I think. It looks weird and there isn’t exactly a good reference for a randomly cross-bred demon.” He seemed so focused on his drawing that she got the feeling he was avoiding her eyes intentionally. Stupid, really. They’re both just tired and have a lot of work.

Look at me.

He didn’t.

She banished all her stupid silly thoughts, and tried to turn to the books for the next few hours.

Fred stayed circling warmly on the edge of her orbit, moving around her but never looking, never acknowledging her as anything other than a voice and a pair of friendly working hands. The silly stupid thread she felt earlier vibrated. She didn't bring it up for fear they wouldn't finish all their work if she were to derail the conversation, so she waited until the end of their study session.

However, when the anticipated end neared, his chair hit the stone the last time and when she turned to him, Fred was lying on his arms on the table, asleep. His outline was as bright and as sharp as ever, but his face was soft and smooth from relaxation, like a marble statue melting. The anchor in her stomach lurch up at the sight, but she swallowed it down, smiled, and laid her head on the table too.

Another sunny afternoon had George almost skipping to his quirky partner. And Fred was glad, he liked to see his brother happy and loved teasing him for being in love even more — but he still hated the bloody beasts. He was thankful for George's efforts to cheer him up, but Fred refused to move out from under his personal gloomy cloud, choosing to carry it alone instead, the way one would an umbrella.

As soon as George mentions his partner, he knows it's time to leave him to his beloved, as he does, with minimal mocking involved (—but come on!).

As Fred approached her, he saw her roll her eyes. Funny. Something about knowing she's as un-excited as he is made his chest swell up with what can only be described as the sudden understanding of the real depth of companionship between you and a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend. I might not like this, but I am not alone.

"They're four feet long already. Your future sister-in-law," said his partner, gesturing to George's love with her head, at which Fred smiled warmly, "said we only get to work with them for another class. I think she might cry." His clouds stopped thundering.

"Don't be rude." he replied but did not sound angry in the least.

"I'm not. She's a nice girl and God bless her for being passionate about this. We need people like her, otherwise the rest of us would have to care as well." she reasoned.

"There's that warm and welcoming Slytherin care I've heard all about." he said sarcastically.

"Rude. Gingers truly are soulless." Fred got nudged in the ribs.

"Oi!"

"Oi yourself!" she flipped her hair and flashed her foxy smile. No, it's fox-like. "Don't start things you can't finish."

"Well, I'm ready to be done with this thing." he looked pointedly at the snapping creature reaching out to them like a baby in a cot.

They received their instructions from Hagrid to feed, entertain, and check the health of the creature and set off to work. After a few minutes of silence, Fred spoke.

"I think there's something wrong with this thing." he squinted.

"Him." She corrected, "He's our son."

"Well I think our son is pregnant." Fred’s face soured.

“No way." she replied, kneeling closer to the beast than she'd ever dared before. "How do you know?"

"A hunch?" Fred shrugged his very nicely shaped shoulders. No! "I'm not sure. It did eat three times as much as the others. It should be a lot fatter."

"He." She absent-mindedly corrected, trying to get a good enough look.

"He doesn't look sick but he's being weird." he squatted next to her, bouncing on his heels.

"Maybe he's lonely. We both ditched a few times." She bumped her knee into his. "I dare you to touch him."

Fred laughed as he turned to her. "I'm not that commited of a father. You do it."

"Why me? You need to do something too!" she whined as their son approached in a rather puppy-like gait, as if he was going to rub against their legs, and Fred's gaze slipped off her, like that day in the library.

"I'll do whatever you want.” he paused "Within reason, of course."

"Touch him."

"Within reason."

"Fine." their dark-shelled son stood before them now, but they were not as hesitant this time. The beast looked at Fred with either his head or his stinger (how is it still not clear?).

Slowly and shakily, her hand reached out. She almost withdrew it, but it already made contact with their son's back and he made a sound similar to purring, which was both surprising and unsettling. Her face bent in disgust as her entire palm pressed against his black shell, gleaming maroon in the sunlight.

"Ew. He's slimy." she detached her hand to see a catran-like substance coating it. "How is he slimy?"

Fred's nose was scrunched as well but an amused gleam flickered on his face nonetheless. “Disgusting.”

"Well, I did it." she complained, trying to wipe her hand on his arm, but he rose to his feet quickly, laughing.

“Keep that to yourself.” Fred warned, trying to avoid her swift attempts to use him as a rag.

“Come on!” She whined. “We’re in this together. If I have to be gross then so do you.” she jumped up after Fred.

He felt weightless as he maneuvered around her and the clawing beast that still purred by their feet, and he realized how warm the sunlight was. His little cloud was gone. In that distracted second of their impromptu three-creature quickstep, she wrapped her clean hand around his hand and pulled herself closer to him.

She grinned from ear to ear, and Fred felt her wet, cold hand sliding down his shoulder. She wiped a few times down his arm and chest with a wickedly satisfied look in her face as he wondered why he didn’t mind it so much. His eyes danced over her face the way his trainers had over the grass mere seconds ago.

“What?” she asked. Wait, she was speaking.

“Um, nothing.” his face rearranged itself from a goofy smile (What?) and he looked at his stained shirt. Before he even had time to comment, her voice made the center of his stomach tighten.

“Do you think he'd lick one if she asked?” Fred followed her gaze to George, looking as dreamy as his partner who was purring back at their Blast-Ended Skrewt. Sunlight covered them too.

Her hand still held onto him.

Fred sighed, both amused and lightheaded from a new discovery threatening to unveil its face in his mind. George laughed so loudly it reached Fred’s ears, and he responded, “Yes.”

“Would you lick one for me?” she batted her eyelashes.

“Absolutely not.” he said without missing a beat.

“What kind of a father won't even lick his own son?” she put a hand on her chest, faux-horrified.

“I still think our son is pregnant.” he said, grinning at her.

“What kind of a father won't lick his own pregnant son?” she humored.

“You're making this worse than it has to be.”

Her eyebrow rose as she offered: “You can always do this alone?”

“No.” something ugly and covered in spikes spun in Fred's stomach.

“Well then,” she said smugly, as if she knew, “you need to start cooperating.” She tugged on his arm with her hand that was there the whole time. Her arm slid around his as she pulled him along, and Fred adjusted his collar with his fingers. When did they get so far away from the group?

“You don’t pet him, you don’t groom him with your tongue like a cat, what do you do? I haven’t seen you change a single diaper!” she over-exaggerated. “I’m basically a single mother!”

He laughed and apologized, feeling lighter and sharper than he had all day.

His future sister-in-law was wrong. They worked on their loving, puppy-like hell scorpions for three more classes, and had another one in a classroom, correcting their essays. During that class, they found out that their son really was pregnant, at which they laughed all the way to the Great Hall.

Fred felt something heavy rolling over his intestines when he thought of the end. It wound itself around his organs until his lips dropped. Nevertheless, he grinned at George (who definitely saw through him), and, with his chin up like a proud lion, departed from him to sit next to his partner, one last time.

He thought about her more often than he expected to, and he feared he might have to stop soon.

As he slid next to her, his metaphorical tail curled closer to him. She beamed brightly at him, and offered her closed fist.

“You ready, partner?”

No, he curled his fingers with a smile, I don’t think I am, and bumped their hands together.

“Doesn’t have to end? Didn't you listen?” she asked him incredulously as he caught up with her. He couldn’t say he has, as his ears buzzed deafeningly loudly since they received their O.

Maybe she had a point when she said there were moments when people felt more defined as he was more sure than ever that he existed in the corridor leading to the Care of Magical Creatures classroom, as his limbs filled with lead at the way she spoke.

“I just thought if you—” his mouth shit on its own. “You know—”

“Holy shit, you really didn’t listen?” but this time she laughed. “Hagrid said we can pick our own partners for the next project.” Her arm curled around his own, “So unless you want to dump me, we march on.”

Whatever heavy thing has been making his stomach a winter home the past week flew off to their summer residence.

She definitely had a point about grounded moments, because when her hand squeezed his arm, the lead leaked out and the awareness of every part of his body slammed into focus.

And Fred smiled back.

She smiled promisingly at him, his heart stuttered, and his sneakers sunk into the stone beneath him.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason. 

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them. 

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus. 

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him. 

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional. 

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be. 

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!” 

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?” 

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.” 

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised. 

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue. 

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket. 

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.” 

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob. 

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both. 

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live. 

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case. 

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are. 

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room. 

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed. 

Oh no. This is not happening. 

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before. 

The one and only bed seems to mock him. 

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.” 

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds. 

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush. 

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful. 

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way. 

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.” 

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.” 

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest. 

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too. 

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird. 

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over. 

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web. 

The waiting is the worst part. 

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together. 

“Sure.” 

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan. 

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute. 

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet. 

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning. 

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water. 

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification. 

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly. 

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.” 

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.” 

“Same.” 

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same. 

Harley spent the night on the couch. 

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day. 

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void. 

It doesn’t. 

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming. 

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms. 

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying. 

“They want to meet. Today.” 

“Time or place?” 

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.” 

“What’s there?” 

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.” 

“Not very clandestine, are they?” 

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?” 

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?” 

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight. 

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket. 

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately. 

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior. 

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well. 

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that. 

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty. 

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide. 

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it. 

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him. 

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him. 

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover. 

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.” 

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.” 

Harley obeys. 

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot. 

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is. 

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue. 

“And the dog?” 

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not. 

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.” 

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.” 

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.” 

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building. 

He doesn’t like his final number. 

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack. 

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work. 

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.” 

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face. 

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking. 

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?” 

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies. 

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this. 

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry. 

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?” 

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone. 

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand. 

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word. 

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him. 

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand. 

“Not until we’re inside.” 

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed. 

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast. 

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest. 

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself. 

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door. 

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. 

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her. 

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.” 

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.” 

“Welcome to being a woman.” 

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone. 

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse. 

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space. 

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire. 

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?” 

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either. 

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.” 

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face. 

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer. 

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his. 

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac. 

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning. 

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off. 

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.” 

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.” 

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?” 

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down. 

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.” 

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.” 

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.” 

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it. 

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts. 

“No promises.”

.

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[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Eighteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4719

Warnings: None

A/n Happy Monday! Oh, and if you like Bucky Barnes, I just posted a one-shot for him! You can find it here. Now, on to the story you came here for!

Late in August, three months after arriving in this new world, plans are made to travel to Lothlórien.

Lavandil’s tearful sniffles in the back of her shop clued me in before someone had officially told me, and my heart goes out to her.

“It gets harder every time,” she had muttered, staring at the ground. “Every time we are separated, a piece of me goes with him.”

Her words have not left my mind since.

They are not even bonded, yet the way not being with him pains her…it breaks my heart in a way that is almost too personal.

Our company is set to leave in five days. In my time here, I have amassed only a small number of belongings, so packing will be easy. I am prepared to go long before the others, who have somehow become busier in these last few days. Even Rumil, who has basically become my best friend these past few months, declines my offer to go riding, citing that he and his brothers have much to do in their remaining time here.

So, with no one to help me occupy my time, I end up in the gardens. I pass the afternoon away wandering through the endless labyrinth, discovering more blossoms that make me sneeze and some that don’t. I pick a few — Elrond said it was alright — to press in one of the journals I’ve acquired — a gift from Lavandil. The journal and the flowers will be keepsakes, tangible memories of my time here in Imladris.

A time I desperately do not want to forget.

In the back of my mind, lurking on the edge of my thoughts is a constant fear — the fear that, at any moment, the work with Elrond will prove fruitful and my memories will come rushing back — at the cost of my memories from my time here in Arda.

A bright, bluish-purple burst under the hedges distracts me from that anxious thought.

A cornflower, fallen to the ground and blown far from its bush by the wind.

I crouch, reaching under the green shrubbery.

“Lady Cosima?”

Flower in hand, I straighten, turning at the sound of the voice.

“Glorfindel!” I’m mildly shocked. Since his argument with Haldir, I’ve seen little of him. Seeming uncertain, he walks to meet me, bowing when he plants his feet.

I curtsey, though I can’t help but chuckle lightly at his formality. “You can just call me Cosima,  you know. I’m not anyone important.”

Glorfindel shakes his head slowly, the edges of a smile playing at his lips. “I would be inclined to disagree with your statement, my dear Lady. It seems you have not only captured the attention of two worlds, but of my elven friends.” Before I can ask exactly what he means by that, Glorfindel furrows his eyebrows, gesturing to our surroundings. “I am surprised to find you here this evening. I would have thought you would be preparing for your departure.”

I twirl the cornflower between my fingers. “There’s nothing much for me to prepare. And it doesn’t seem I can be of much help to the others, either.”

A twinkle enters his eye, reminiscent of the playfulness he had the last time I interacted with him. “So you are trying to soak up all that Lord Elrond’s gardens have to offer?”

I smile, taking a look around. “It’s not a bad way to pass the time. I don’t know if Lothlórien will have all these flowers, so I’m taking a couple with me.” Unnecessarily, I hold up the growing bouquet in my hands. “But enough about me, why are you here at this time of day? Don’t you have a million things to do?”

Glorfindel grins, now fully the man I met upon first arriving here. “Ah, you’ve caught me. I am shirking my duties, but!” He holds up a hand to stop my nonexistent chiding. “I will pay for it tonight. Your Marchwarden and I have plans after dinner to surprise one of the border stations. We are going to creep through the area unannounced and see how long it takes for them to discover us. Surely we will be gone until morning.”

I gulp. My Marchwarden? I try to cover up how much that phrase affects me. “So, are you two back to being friends? Or are you still at odds?”

Thankfully, Glorfindel doesn’t get upset by the words I spoke without thought. “Yes, yes, we have been reconciled for weeks now. It is not uncommon for such strong personalities to disagree. All is well — I would have thought he told you.”

I shrug, trying to make the motion look natural even though I suddenly feel like every eye in Imladris is scrutinizing the movement. “We haven’t had the chance to talk much.”

Glorfindel smirks. “Ah, yes, I wondered why my friend had been even more stern than usual as of late.”

I freeze, and the question escapes my mouth before I can stop it. “What do you mean?”

No, Cosima, I chide. Do not engage!

But Glorfindel has already broadened his grin, evidently happy to indulge my pointless question. “He’s increased drills and border patrols, added requirements for promotions, re-worked the training schedule at least five times — he’s even taken his frustrations out on the guard — I worry more when they fight him than if they were facing a pack of orcs!” He laughs, but, after a moment, his expression softens into one of understanding. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

My eyes drop to the flowers in my hand. I twirl the cornflower again, scrutinizing its color.

It is the wrong shade of blue.

“No, nothing happened,” I respond, still not able to meet Glorfindel’s gaze. His questions and the lack of judgement in his voice lead me to share more than I should. “I…I think we both realized we were headed for something dangerous and it’s better to stop while we can.”

“I see,” he mutters, taking in a deep breath. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I force a smile, not wanting to dwell on something that already keeps me up at night. Time to change the subject. “I don’t know about you, but I’m quite hungry. Would you like to join me for dinner? Lavandil and Orophin will be there as well.”

His face breaks into an easy smile, though there’s something off in his eyes. He sweeps his hand forward, indicating his agreement. “Lead the way, my dear Lady.”

{***}

I stare at the clothes laid out on my bed, relying on the meager candlelight to tell me what each item of fabric is.

Lord Elrond said I was welcome to take home any of the pieces I wanted, but the space in my bag will only allow for a few of them. Turns out, the choice is harder than I thought it would be. I have no desire to wear the same outfit the whole time like I had to on the journey to Imladris. That means I should pack more tunic and legging sets. But there are so many pretty gowns I want to take — it doesn’t help that, as part of the payment for helping in her store, Lavandil took me shopping a couple of times. I look over my dresses, all equally loved.

I purse my lips. I know Rumil has three bags…perhaps he would be willing to donate one of them to a good cause. Lavandil hasn’t taken him shopping, so surely he has room to spare.

I creep out of my room, mindful to keep quiet at this late hour. Rumil’s likely to be awake — that ellon is a night owl if I’ve ever met one. I reach his door and knock softly.

But when the door opens, it’s not Rumil on the other side.

It’s Haldir.

I stop breathing. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline.

He steps back somewhat robotically, making space for me to enter the room. “Cosima.”

I freeze, unable to connect my brain to my feet to tell them to move. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re supposed to be gone.”

Haldir opens and closes his mouth, likely figuring out how to respond to something that sounded very much like an accusation. “I—ah, I apologize? Do you want me to—”

“No, I uh—” I look to the ground, trying to gather my hopelessly scattered thoughts. Being near him again takes me right back to the state I’ve tried desperately to avoid. “Sorry, no, I only meant that I ran into Glorfindel a few hours ago and he said the two of you would be gone tonight. I came looking for Rumil.”

“Oh.” Haldir furrows his eyebrows, though it looks like the initial shock has faded. “I am sorry — I sent him out tonight in my place. I planned on using this time to write out instructions for training after I am gone.”

I can’t keep myself from smiling. So dutiful. “That’s nice of you.”

Haldir shrugs, looking thrown by the compliment. “It’s my job.”

I blink, realizing that, both mercifully and sadly, I no longer have an excuse to stay here. I should go.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” I take a step back.

“Cosima, wait.”

I halt my exit, but remind myself of my resolve.

Haldir shifts on his feet before rolling back his shoulders, holding the door open with one hand. “I need a break from writing. Would you like to go for a walk?”

Your resolve, Cosima.

I search for any excuse, anything to give me a reason to say no when I so badly want to say yes. “I don’t have my cloak.”

The edges of Haldir’s lips twitch. “Now that, I may have a solution for. Wait here.”

I should go.

Just wait to see what this ‘solution’ is, I rationalize.

Haldir turns and nearly jogs to the wardrobe, burying his upper half inside until he emerges with a sage green bundle. He returns, presenting the neatly folded fabric to me. “This is for you.”

I blink in surprise, taking the bundle from his outstretched hand. Slowly, I unfurl it, and it falls into a sturdy, finely woven cloak. I look up at Haldir and then back to the garment, unsure of why he’s just handed me this, but nonetheless, pleased.

“You cannot wear your red one while we travel,” he explains. “This will blend in much better with our surroundings. Lavandil advised on the measurements, but if it’s too long, there’s still time to get it hemmed before we leave.”

I smile, running my fingers over the soft interior and the slicker outside. “What’s it made of?”

“Wool, but I asked the seamstress to assist in making it as waterproof as possible.” I look up at him sharply, surprised that he would think to include this. “I worry we will encounter rain again and I would hate to have you shivering like last time.”

I run my fingers over the fabric with a new fondness. I’m grateful and more touched than I would like to admit. “Thank you Haldir, really. This is so thoughtful. And practical.” I can’t help but laugh, looking up at him with a sudden onslaught of nerves. “Just like you.”

He smiles almost bashfully, dipping his head in acknowledgement of my words. “I’m glad you like it.”

I swing the cloak around my shoulders, pulling my hair through the back so it lays against the outside of the fabric. Haldir grabs the bag that rests on the hook by the door and retrieves another one of those beautiful leaf-shaped clips. He steps forward and slowly reaches his hands to where my cloak rests along my collarbones. He gathers the fabric and weaves it through the clip, securing the ends. He rests his hands there for just a moment and then steps back, nodding to himself.

“Perfect,” he breathes.

I blink. I have a cloak now. There’s no reason to say no. “Let’s go for that walk.”

Smiling in a soft, hesitant way, he grabs his own cloak and clip from their place near the door and we step outside of his room. In silence, mindful of the late hour, he leads me down a spiral staircase tucked into a corner I’ve never noticed before. As we descend, the sound of water crashing gets louder and the peace of the estate fades.

I halt and, a few stairs below me, Haldir stops too.

“Are we going below the city?”

He looks up at me — I can barely see his face in the dark. “It is perfectly safe — there are no heights to be conscious of.”

It feels wrong to make sound in the darkness, so when I speak, it’s barely more than a whisper. “Okay. I believe you.”

In the dim light, Haldir’s hand reaches up to me. I stare at it, feeling my jaw fall slightly.

“I think you will like where we’re going.” The darkness, the sound of his voice, just being with him after so much time apart — it’s too much.

I exhale a shallow breath.

I place my hand in his.

Tingles shoot up my arm.

We reach the bottom of the staircase, and he doesn’t let go.

It’s dark here, too, and I find myself drawing nearer to him. My arm brushes his and I suck in a breath, both of us laughing nervously. Haldir seems to know the way. His path is confident and sure as he leads us underneath the stone and earth of the city. Then, in a burst of clear blue light, we break from the darkness and arrive on soft grass.

I can see Haldir better now. Everything about him seems to almost glow in the moonlight. He smiles softly, tugging on my hand to encourage me to follow him closer to the water that lies ahead of us. I glance between us to where our hands meet, wrapped around each other.

It feels natural. It feels right.

I should let go.

I grip his hand tighter.

The stone holding up the city gives way to taller grass and trees whose low, swinging branches brush over us as we pass. Ahead lies a rippling lake — across it, waterfalls crash down, their thunderous roar diminished by the distance. Haldir takes us almost to the edge of the shore, then surprises me by pulling me to the left. We duck under a particularly low branch, Haldir almost having to double over completely. I laugh, bending down next to him, and he looks up at me with a carefree grin. We pass under the branch and emerge in a small clearing — an alcove, really. Behind us and to our left are tall, leafy trees, to our right is the stone of the mountain, and ahead, surely for miles and miles, lies the lake. Moonlight dances atop it, glinting in a way that makes it sparkle. And above it, in an endless stretch of sky—stars, a million of them, at least.

Haldir turns to face me.

I suck in a breath.

His eyes — I’ve always admired them, even when they held nothing more than indifference to me — seem to shine in a way I’ve never seen before. They gleam like living starlight, depthless and enchanting. The colors of the night drape him in a glow of soft blue, highlighting the strong edges of his jaw. He looks powerful, beautiful, otherworldly.

This is the first time I’ve truly understood the etherial beauty of an elf.

He smiles down at me expectantly. “Was I right?”

I exhale somewhat shakily, nodding my head. “Yes. Yes, you were right. This place is stunning.”

His smile broadens and he releases my hand to unclasp his cloak.

I miss the warmth of his hand encasing mine.

But I do get my wish from earlier today. Just as he did all those months ago, he lays his cloak on the ground, gesturing for me to sit. I do, folding my legs to the side to allow him room next to me. Before he can say anything, the nerves get the best of me, and I blurt out the first, most basic question that comes to mind. “How was your day?”

He smiles, stretching his legs out on the cloak. “My day went well, thank you. Glorfindel and I spent this morning debating the merits of extending Elrond’s borders by twenty or so miles — it would mean the guards have more land to protect, yes, but it would also provide a larger distance for any intruders to cross, should they break through the barrier. That could give the guard precious extra time to organize and combat the threat.”

I tilt my head. “So what did you decide?”

Haldir raises his shoulders then lets them fall, the action hinting at underlying stress. “It is not our decision, we were merely debating. The choice lies with Lord Elrond, and I cannot say what he will do.”

I chuckle, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “You’re always steps ahead of everyone else. Come on, what do you think he’ll do?”

He sighs. “I think he will not expand the borders. Elrond cares about the security of his people, yes, but he still believes there is potential to stop this evil before his people will have to confront it.”

Tension gathers in the small of my back. Are we really that close to a fight? “And you disagree?”

“I did not mean to scare you.” He avoids answering my question directly.

I shake my head slowly, thinking over his words. Wary, yes, but scared? “I have gotten tougher, you know.”

Haldir smiles and lets out a soft laugh. "Now, that, I would have to agree with." He rolls his sleeve up to his bicep and holds out his arm. I squint in the moonlight, trying to make out whatever he's attempting to show me. "See this?" I shake my head, and Haldir laughs more freely now. "It is almost a bruise from where you hit me two days ago."

Now, I join him in his laughter, remembering my attempt to break free from his grasp during training. “You better watch out," I joke. "Soon I'll be able to put you on the ground."

Haldir schools his laughter but the edges of his lips stay quirked. "I'm sure."

I snort. “No, I actually believe that someday soon I’ll be able to beat you. Or, at the very least, catch you off your guard.”

I don’t actually believe that, of course, but it’s worth the exaggeration to see Haldir’s terrible attempt at pretending to agree with me.

“Ah, perhaps, yes. I would not entirely rule the possibility out.”  

“Liar.” I roll my eyes and grin good-naturedly.

He merely holds my gaze with a smile of his own and raises an eyebrow.

I shudder out a breath. I wish he wouldn’t look at me that way. It makes me want things I absolutely can’t act on.

I force my eyes to return to the water, searching for a way to expel the tension that has somehow gathered in the air. “What made you want to come here?”

He shrugs, leaning back on one hand in a way that is almost arrestingly casual, because I do not feel casual. “It’s peaceful, it’s away from the bustle of the city…and it reminds me of home.” He smiles, craning his head back to view the moon and the stars. My eyes follow the length of his neck before correcting themselves to also look at the stars. “In Caras Galadon we live in talans built high in the branches. Common spaces and guest lodgings take up entire trees, wrapping around trunks and connecting with bridges. But my home is smaller, and all the way at the top of one of the oldest and tallest trees in the city…I can look up and I see the stars. It’s like I walk among them, I am so close. And here, though we are quite low on the ground…” His eyes drop to mine. I listen intently, captivated by the love he feels for his home so clearly expressed in his voice. “This feels somehow similar, like it is just you, me, the forest, and the sky.”

The words, ill-thought and reckless, rush from my mouth. “I like it being just us.”

His head dips closer to mine. “Me too.”

Our noses brush against each other. We are so close, so close to losing ourselves in something we cannot control.

I will bring nothing but pain to him.

I pull back just enough to see his eyes, hating the spark of hurt that runs through them. But I ground myself in that, use it as a warning of what is to come if I don’t stop this now.

But stopping hurts me, too. Because I want him. I want to be with him, to be his forever, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. Memories or not, this, I’m sure of.

And I can’t have it.

Tears prick at my eyes.

Haldir’s hurt turns to concern and he trails a finger tenderly over my cheek, soothing and catching a tear that has managed to fall. “What’s wrong?”

I swallow, trying to force away the painful lump that has grown there. I can manage little more than a whisper. “You don’t want to do this with me.”

He shakes his head and brings a hand to my lower back. He presses gently, keeping me in place as if he knows I’m trying to find a way out, to talk us both out of doing this. He lowers his head to look directly into my eyes. “Yes, I do.”

I turn my gaze to the waterfall, not able to bear looking him in the eye. “Haldir, I’m temporary. To your lifespan, I…I’m nothing. Don’t waste your love on me.” And something I can’t say, something I’m too weak to admit out loud — don’t waste your life on me.

He brings a hand to my chin, pulling me to meet his eyes. What I see there takes me aback — a fierceness akin to how he looked during the attack. “It’s not a waste, it’s a choice. And I’ve chosen, Cosima. I want this, I want you.”

I shake my head, the tears falling freely now. I bring a hand to grip his wrist, trying to break his hold of my face. He follows my request but immediately takes both of my hands in his, refusing to let me go completely.

He speaks in a low, urgent voice. “Cosima, believe me, I tried. I’ve stayed away from you, I’ve tried to convince myself that there are others, that there could ever be someone else for me. I’ve distracted myself with training and planning and patrols but nothing works. Every day, I wake up and I ache for you.”

I close my eyes, all at once elated to hear those words and grieving his choice. Because loving him is the most selfish thing I’ll ever do.

“I wish I didn’t want this,” he continues. “I know what it means for me. Every instinct for self-preservation is screaming at me to stop, to run away, to fight this—”

“Then do,” I beg, trying to convince both him and myself. “Save yourself while you still can.”

Slowly, deliberately, he pulls his hands from mine and rests them on either side of my neck, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. Despite my efforts, I suck in a breath, my heart beginning to race.

He’s so close, so honest, so…loving. He looks at me with the same reverence he reserves for the stars. He lets out a breath, eyes trailing down my face before meeting mine once more. “It is too late,” he murmurs, lips parting slightly. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

And my resolve breaks.

I push myself forward to close the minuscule space between us, pressing my lips against his. He responds immediately, kissing me with a passion that sends tingles down my spine. His hold on me feels like fire, starting where his hands caress my neck, where his lips meet mine, and running through my entire body. My hands gather in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him impossibly closer. My mind fights between short-circuiting due to the feel of his lips on mine and shouting for joy. Never in my life have I felt so right, so secure, so…electric. Gone are the days of holding myself back, of distancing myself, torturing myself, staying away from the one I truly want to be with.

The one I love.

My back makes contact with the cloak covering the ground. Did I fall and pull him along, or did he push me? All efforts of solving that mystery disappear the moment he takes my lower lip between his teeth, biting down gently. I gasp, my grip on his tunic tightening. The hand that rests on the ground near my side, supporting his weight, curls into a fist.

His kisses slow.

He presses his lips to mine again, this time, as gentle as a breeze. I sigh into the kiss, my hand trailing slowly down his chest. For the first time in all my memory, I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

And I am with who I am meant to be with.

Haldir’s lips leave mine. He balances his weight on one arm and his knees, bringing his free hand to my face to softly brush his fingers over my cheek. Slowly, I open my eyes.

Above me is perhaps the best and most beautiful sight I will ever see. A blanket of stars, brilliant and expansive, floats across the night sky. And in front of them, mere inches from my face, is Haldir, looking at me with a wide, adoring smile. I raise my head to bump my nose against his, earning myself a rumbling chuckle.

He shakes his head slowly. “The relief I feel, finally being able to tell you that I love you, to kiss you…”

I breathe out a weak laugh, knowing exactly what he’s describing. “I wouldn’t call what I feel relief.”

He grins and dips his head to mine, stopping just before our lips touch. “Yes, it is certainly not a peaceful relief. But I much prefer whatever this is to peace.”

“I agree,” I sigh into his mouth as his lips move against mine once more. But then I remember something, and push against his shoulders. He’s said his piece, now I get to say mine. “Hey, for the record, I love you too.”

He laughs indulgently, shaking his head, but I can see real joy lighting his eyes. “And yet you kept me in such suspense.”

I roll my eyes and grip his tunic, pulling him down again.

When we break apart, he falls onto his back next to me. I’m struck once again with the memory of us stargazing in Elrond’s gardens so many months ago. Then, I spent the whole night fighting the urge to cuddle against his side.

Now, it seems, that door is not closed to me.

Experimentally, I scoot closer to him. When he smiles rather than questions it, I pick up the arm nearest to me, moving it so I can lay against his side. He tenses, then sputters out a laugh, but doesn’t push me away. Instead, he cranes his head so he can see me and I grin up at him, happy to see that he wears a matching expression.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this what the humans do?”

“Yes,” I smile up at him, pleased that being this close to him feels even better than I could have imagined. “It’s called cuddling.” I rest my head on his chest. In the silence of the night, I can hear the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

After a moment, his hand comes to the back of my head, running his fingers gently over my hair and down my back. “Surprisingly, I like the human way.”

I smile, tucking my head further into his chest.

I stare at the sky.

And try not to think about what I’ve just done.

A/n YAYYYYYYYYY 

|next chapter - to be posted|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist @that-cute-stranger

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala @thranduilseyebrows 

**Strikethroughs means Tumblr won’t let me tag you :(**

[fanfic-about-fictif]

Open book

Type: drabble/oneshot, 100% catboy fluff

Pairing: Sage Lesath x female reader

Words: 1781

Warnings: no warnings 

This is my first writing about Sage and related to Last Legacy/Fictif stories, so let me know what you think! Maybe even give me some ideas if you like it, so I can write more?

Sage bursts into her room and - well, not her room exactly, but her room for the time being - and then he smirks, his eyes glistening with mischief, as per usual. She didn’t turn to look at him, as a matter of fact she didn’t even let him in because he didn’t bother to knock.

“I was just about to go shower and thought, we should shower together.”, he concluded simply, gazing at her body, while she was perched on the wide windowsill.

She didn’t even need to look up at him to see he was smiling wide.

“You know, for practical reasons. Obviously.”, he added.

She still didn’t look up at him, twirling her phone in her hands absent-mindedly.

“Practical reasons?” she questioned, but her heart wasn’t really in it, she barely registered his words.

“I can help you with the washing. Make sure you clean each inch of your body properly.”, his teasing tone would usually make her chuckle or groan. Maybe she would roll her eyes at him or even blush, but this time, nothing. Not even a witty remark.

Sage’s smile instantly faded. “What’s wrong?”

His worried voice seemed to snap her out of it and she finally glanced up. Upon locking eyes with him, she faked a smile and shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He walked over to her, made her scoot up the windowsill with a sweep of his hand and then sat down. Her phone was set aside on the windowsill and she brought her knees to her chest, enveloping them with her arms.

“Why were you looking at...”, Sage pointed at her phone. “...Whatever that is?”

“It’s a phone.”, she said. “You can call people with it, no matter how far away they are, or even send them messages, or also-“

“Not what I was asking.”

She sighed, resting her chin on the top of her knees. “It’s dead, anyway. Not working anymore.”

“It’s dead since you came here?”

She nodded, looking out of the window.

“You wanted to call somebody?” Sage asked hesitantly.

There was a brief pause as he noticed her eyes glistening.

She faked a smile again as she looked at Sage and he decided he absolutely hated that. Her eyes looked so sad, even though he could notice she was trying so hard to hide it. The sunlight from outside hit her face perfectly, making it shine and illuminate in a way that left Sage mesmerized. He loved those moments; when she wasn’t even aware how beautiful she is.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Why won’t you talk to me?” Sage’s voice got softer, gentler than she ever heard him, but she couldn’t concentrate on that now.

“Must be because you’re an open book usually as well.”, she retorted, but even then he could hear she’s in pain.

Sage sighed, leaning back on the wall, thinking of ways he could make her talk. “How about I tell you something you want to know about me first and then we can talk about what’s wrong with you?”

She perked up at that and stared at him incredulously. “What?”

“Ask me something. Anything.”, he suddenly got tense and not even the grin on his face could hide it.

“And you’re gonna answer?” her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Sure.”

It didn’t sound very convincing, but she knew Sage wouldn’t back out of it now. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t. She thought about it for a few seconds, looking through the window again.

There were so many questions that she wanted to ask, most of which Sage avoided already or would avoid if asked. This was her one opportunity. But, she also didn’t want to make him too uncomfortable or steer the conversation that would end in their fighting or make Sage run off as usual. So, she decided to steer clear of any questions pertaining the current events. She would save that for another time. Now, she just wanted something to distract her from all the problems.

“I can hear the gears in your head turning when you’re thinking this hard.”, Sage grinned.

She faced him and looked him straight in the eyes. “Have you ever been in love?”

Sage looks shocked, like he was at least vaguely prepared for any question but this one. To say he wasn’t expecting it would be an understatement. But, he quickly regains his cool exterior under her scrutinizing gaze. She was watching his reaction and every move. He suddenly smirks, catching her off guard in turn.

“Why are you curious about that? Looking to fill that position?” he winks, grinned wide again.

She rolled her eyes. “I should’ve known you were going to deflect that one too.”

Looking annoyed, she hastily stood up to leave, but Sage caught her wrist. “Wait!”

She looked over her shoulder at him and glared.

“I’m sorry.”, Sage sounded sincere. “I was only messing around. I’ll answer, as promised.”

After a second of hesitation, Sage gently pulled her towards him to sit back down. She did, resuming her previous spot and position.

“I…”, Sage started, looking through the window because he couldn’t bear looking at her piercing eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”

“Really?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Sage furrowed his brows. “Is that so bad?”

“No! I…”, she cleared her throat. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. Considering…”

She trailed off, not finishing her sentence, and immediately regretted even starting it and going down that path.

Sage turned his head to face her, looking half-confused and half-annoyed. “Considering what?”

She was uncomfortable, starting to blush, and it was her turn to look away from him. “Nothing, forget it.”

“Considering I’m bedding lots and lots of women?” he concluded with a mocking voice and then huffed.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sage shot her a look and she sighed. “Fine, I kinda did.”

“Is that really bugging you so much?” Sage asked quietly. “Do you think I’m a bad person because of it?”

She giggled. “No, don’t be silly, Sage. I don’t condone your… Promiscuous lifestyle.”

“Promiscuous lifestyle?” Sage grinned, but she ignored him.

“How is it possible that none of those women made you feel something?”

“Oh, they all made me feel something.”, Sage’s lips split into an even wider grin and she could sense a flirty comment before he even said it. “If you want, I can show you.”

“Sage.”, she rolled her eyes.

He laughed at her. “Sorry, I’m done.”

She shook her head at him but couldn’t help but chuckling along with him.

“I just…”, Sage breathed out heavily, his shoulders dropping. “I did, develop… Uh, some feelings towards some. But, uh…”

It was absolutely adorable seeing him so flustered and lost. But, he was trying. He was opening up and telling her stuff, and she was grateful for the effort.

“Didn’t really work out?” she offered and Sage nodded sombrely, looking away.

She decided to end his suffering, for now, at least. “Thank you for telling me, Sage.”

His ears twitched and perked up, before Sage smiled.

As if just now remembering, he looked at her with wide eyes. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn? For what?” she acted like she didn’t know what he was talking about, while they both knew she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Your turn to pour your heart out.”, Sage watched her curiously. “Who were you trying to call? Is there someone you’re in love with?”

She didn’t notice how much Sage was involved in that question, even though he asked it in a light-hearted tone. He prayed that he was wrong, that someone wasn’t waiting for her at home, down on Earth, and thinking about her the in the same way that he was. She couldn’t notice his breath catching in his throat as he waited for her answer, because she was looking down at her hands and nervously twirling with her fingers.

“No. There’s no one in that way.”, she replied quietly and Sage breathed out in relief. “I just miss my family. My friends. I wish I could let them know I’m alright.”

There were a few moments of silence as she tried to wipe off a tear that slipped down her cheek without Sage noticing. He did, of course. He moved closer to her, gently cupping her cheek and wiping another tear with his thumb. She had no choice but to look at him now, he was only centimetres away from her face. She didn’t know what to expect, but she surely wasn’t prepared for Sage’s intense stare, almost knocking the wind out of her. She leaned into his hand slightly and he glanced at her lips, plump and rosy. Sage wondered many times if they were as soft as they appeared.

“You have me.”, Sage whispered. “I know I can’t replace your family and friends, but…”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

As Sage got closer, she stopped breathing, bracing herself for a kiss. Instead, he pulled her into a tight hug. She put her arms around him as well, her heart humping wildly.

“I know I’m not enough to make you happy, but I’ll make sure you get home safe and that you see your family and friends who can truly make you happy.”, Sage said it so quietly, in such a small, worried voice, that she wouldn’t hear it if they weren’t pressed together in a hug.

She pulled away to look up at him and tears welled up in her eyes when she was Sage’s face expression.

“You’re more than enough, Sage.”, she admitted.

Before he could protest or say anything else, she slid her arms up so they were around his neck, pulling him closer to her so she could reach up and kiss him. She could feel his shock at first and contemplated pulling away and running off, but he responded before she could, by almost grabbing her and pulling her even closer. It didn’t take long before she ended up in his lap, legs wrapped around him, while the kiss progressed into a more intense and passionate one than the one they began with.

She pulled away first, breathing heavily and looking into Sage’s lust-blown eyes. “Wow.”

Sage chuckled. “Took the word out of my mouth.”

She rolled her eyes at the joked, giggling. She suddenly became hyper-aware of their bodies pressed together, so much that she could feel every ridge of his muscles and the leather jacket against her skin. Her hands were tangled in his silky hair.

Sage’s eyes were flirty and sparkling, and when he spoke, it sounded like a low rumble coming from deep inside his chest. “Now… How about that shower I mentioned before?”