#(and then immediately sitting down to try and fix it without stepping on canons toes LOL)

[good-beanswrites]

Hello 🎬👋!! Haha, I’m glad you enjoyed the thoughts, I loved these so much! Thank you!

LMAO I think a few of them would have real good taste in song titles, but others… not so much 😅 I actually think Yuno would have some pretty solid ideas. Though Haruka has some nice thoughts too, I heard both his titles are specific plays on words that I don’t think he’d come up with himself…

Omg yes! The prisoners would have such a good time planning mv outfits! I can definitely see it being bittersweet for Fuuta – exasperated by, but also homesick because, they all remind him so much of his sister ;-; Mahiru is devastated she's not getting a new outfit for I Love You and so she enjoys styling vicariously through helping the others. Shidou’s outfit was even more painfully Dad before the group helped tone it down. Before the mv color scheme was decided, they cycle through a few different colored marching band uniforms for Amane. Muu doesn’t quite understand the flower dress, but the team promises her it will all come together to look great.

>:O The birthday art can be au canon!! The previously mentioned fashion crew makes everyone dress up like their cake, and designer Mikoto photoshops them into a pic of it aww. Even after watching the t1 videos, it would be the nicest they've seen everyone get dressed up. They're shocked seeing the boys clean up so nicely in their suits, and the girls are just shining in their fancy dresses and heels. And maybe Es’ “birthday” pic was a pre-experiment candid shot of them chillin with the bunny off set :’)

On a slightly darker note, I wonder if those pv shots of the restraints are canon too. Milgram had a few ideas for worst-case restraints and took a few shots for reference during an early fitting…

ADFGGH rip Haruka 😂😂😂 I love the idea of a whole group of them sneaking around looking for tasty goo and fun props, and instead stumbling upon The Mannequin Room. And waait I'm so emotional over Kazui loosening up and having a bit of fun with his tricks :’D With all the themes about certain characters growing up faster than they should, it would be so lovely to see them giggling and messing around in a blooper reel! I’m imagining someone trying to twirl Amane’s baton as well as her and epically failing at it.

Yeah, I have a lot of different predictions for Amane’s t3 changes – but no matter what happens, she starts accepting help just a little bit more behind the scenes >:) It’ll still take her a really long time to break away from the cult’s beliefs (no one in the cast/team really knows proper cult deprogramming strategies at this point, but they start looking into it as soon as the experiments ends.) Still, she finds a balance of keeping most of her religion and also realizing that the others genuinely care for her. 

And oooh I really like that 👀 I always pictured the prisoner Es hints to be leading toward them being a prisoner in the future (accused of executing prisoners), but that would add so much more drama if it relates to a past imprisonment. The ten would make a perfect heist team, hacking the system, snooping around, and charming facility members in order to find paperwork detailing past experiments featuring Es. And Kotoko would certainly be leading the investigation – I love how closely she’s monitoring everything, it would fit so well if she were the one to see the truth first. Between the realization that Milgram hasn’t been fully honest, and the threat that Es may be there for even longer, the jailbreak would erupt much quicker than the current timeline. Although the au is nicer overall, I really like keeping Milgram a pretty shady organization hehe 

[qitwrites]

|| 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 

Momo is 13 when she gets her first period.

Her parents had talked to her about it of course, told her it was completely natural and normal and healthy, and to come to them when it happens.

What nobody was prepared for was the pain.

She’s in the family garden creating some Lego blocks for herself when a bout of cramps, sharp and intense, roils through her abdomen and up her left leg. It’s so sudden she can barely call for help, and by the time the guards reach her, she’s on the ground sobbing, clutching her stomach and shakily taking in gasps of air.

They tell her it’s a combination of her diet and her genes. The high-fat diet has consequences, no matter how much she uses her quirk to balance it out and her father’s side of the family has a history of debilitating period pains. It’s just really bad luck, or so they tell her.

Of course, this doesn’t deter Momo from her plans of becoming a pro-hero. It’s all she wants. So, it’s what she chases and works for and earns.

The period pains get worse.

Class 1A doesn’t notice for the longest time. Momo is good at hiding it, at hiding how often she uses the loo for the first two days, how much pain she’s biting back in class, how badly she’s performing in training. She practices her smile in the mirror, sits through hours of class and training and socializing with a smile plastered on her face, and screams into her pillow at night. She spends those nights on her bathroom floor, alternating between throwing up and enjoying the cool feeling of the tiles underneath her.

Nobody realizes until Momo doesn’t show up for class one day.

Of course, everyone is immediately concerned- Momo isn’t one to skip. She takes the best notes, has perfect attendance, submits her assignments on time, the works. First period passes like that, and Aizawa even brings it up but nobody knows where she is. She hasn’t messaged a soul or called anyone about anything.

They’re on break after second period when Todoroki finds her on the staircase landing between the first and second floor.

Momo is on the ground, laying on her side. Her hand is in her mouth, blood dripping down her skin as she clenches it tightly between her teeth. Her other hand is wrapped around her abdomen, squeezing tightly. Tears stream down her face continuously, like an endless river. She’s muffling her screams, and it’s almost like she can’t even see Todoroki, her gaze piercing straight through him.

Todoroki is immediately alarmed, getting to his knees in front of her. He looks over her and can’t see any physical injuries, any signs of trauma.

‘Yaoyorozu,’ he says urgently, ‘what’s going on?’

Momo blinks at him, some of the tears dispelling. She finally sees him, recognizes him, and gasps. She pulls her hand away and the tears spill again.

‘I can’t-‘ she starts and sucks in a sharp breath ‘-I can’t breathe. I can’t- there’s too much pain fuck.’ Todoroki raises his brows- Momo never curses. Never. Not even when she stubbed her toe against the dining table and broke it.

‘We have to get you to recovery girl,’ Todoroki says, moving to help her up.

‘Wait,’ she groans. ‘I need- dammit, Todoroki let me borrow your left hand for a moment please.’

Todoroki complies without question, and watches as she takes it and places it on her abdomen above her uniform.

‘As hot as you can go,’ she says, ‘without burning my uniform. Please.’

Todoroki has no idea what’s going on, but he does as she asks. The effect is almost immediate- her breathing evens out, her eyes focus again, her body stops jerking in pain. It’s almost like she’s been sedated.

After nearly 2 minutes of sitting in silence, she gently takes Todoroki’s hand and places it on his own knee. She sits up gingerly and wipes away her tears, smearing some of the blood on her cheeks instead. Todoroki watches her carefully, ready to step in if she asks for help.

‘What happened?’

Momo looks at him with sad eyes. ‘It’s just my period cramps Todoroki. I’m ok, I’ll be alright.’

Todoroki quirks a brow. ‘You’re not ok Yaoyorozu, even I can tell just by looking at you.’

Momo is about to voice another protest when the door to the stairwell bursts open. Bakugou and Kirishima walk through with vending machine drinks in their hands and stop when they spot the pair on the floor.

‘Yaomomo?’ Kirishima shouts, running towards them. Bakugou trails just behind, eyebrows furrowed.

Momo plasters a smile on her face, trying to hide her bloodied hand.

‘What happened?’ Kirishima yells, crouching down with a concerned look in his eyes.

‘I-‘

‘She said it’s period cramps,’ Todoroki interrupts. In all honesty, he never grew up around his mother or his sister, so he has limited knowledge of periods in general. But with that limited knowledge also came the lack of a stigma towards periods in general. He doesn’t think anything of talking about it.

Kirishima’s concerned look melts into one of sad understanding.

‘Oh man,’ he says, ‘that sucks Yaomomo. They’re that bad, huh?’

Momo keeps her smile in place. ‘Really, I’m fine, it’s nothing I cannot handle, I’m ok-‘

A hand, absurdly gentle, pulls her bloodied one away from where she’s hiding it. Momo startles when she sees Bakugou holding her hand, giving her a tight look. He drops it gently and sighs. With a grunt, Bakugou sits down next to her, back leaning into the wall. Kirishima sits cross legged in front of her while Todoroki sits on her other side.

‘My old hag,’ Bakugou grumbles, ‘has period pains. More like period torture, I guess. She threw up every month on the first day. She’d have dark circles from the lack of sleep, and she’d slap hot water bags to her stomach 24/7. She even burned the skin there a few times. Painkillers didn’t do shit, there were no surgical options, not even birth control made much of a dent. She’d just grit her teeth and bare it every month.’

Momo listens silently, her hands slowly unclenching.

‘My moms,’ Kirishima pitches in, ‘are pretty chill with it. Well, Mama’s get really bad sometimes, but mom is usually ok. I’ve seen them bring each other ice-cream or squeeze each other’s shoulders. They sync up a lot too! Mama would always tell me to be nicer to mom, and mom would always tell me to give mama a kiss. They’re both so manly when they battle their periods every month.’ He offers Momo a gentle smile.

Todoroki hums. ‘I admit, I don’t know much beyond the biological part of it. But from what I can see, Yaoyorozu, this isn’t very normal, is it? This level of pain?’

Momo sighs, brushing away the fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

‘I, between my quirk and my genes, I have received the shorter end of the stick. Of course, I have looked into treatments. There’s nothing I can fix with surgery, and painkillers are usually ineffective. I have tried birth control measures, but they interfere with my quirk.’

Momo looks up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think we talk about this enough, about heroes that menstruate. I can’t stop being a hero on the days I have my period, but sometimes, I’m in so much pain I can’t see straight. I-‘ she sucks in a stuttering breath ‘-I don’t know what to do sometimes. I want to stand on equal footing with my peers.’

Bakugou scoffs. ‘You shitting me? You’re top of the class, your quirk can make fucking canons, you tutored our fuckwit classmates into not failing miserably, and you did it all through this shit? What part of that is not equal with your peers?’

Kirishima nods in agreement. ‘I mean, Mina has some cramps too, so I usually bring her hot water bags when she asks. I read somewhere that spinach is great for period health, so I make us both protein shakes with spinach and banana! She says it helps.’

‘The iron in spinach must be beneficial,’ Momo muses, her face breaking into the first genuine smile of the day. ‘I usually up my iron intake as well. It does help.’

‘You’re right though,’ Todoroki adds, eyebrows furrowed, ‘we don’t talk enough about heroes that menstruate. Plus, the fact that you can’t seem to find a way to manage your pain without it affecting your life is proof that they haven’t put much thought into it, isn’t it?’

Bakugou grunts in agreement. ‘My hag volunteers at women’s shelters and tries to raise funds for pain meds and hygiene supplies and shit. It’s ridiculous. All of that shit should be free. No one asks to have a period every month.’

‘We can change that though,’ Kirishima pipes in, always the voice of positivity. ‘Look at the four of us, talking about it! Yaomomo, I’m sorry.’

Momo blinks, ‘What for Kirishima?’

‘For not noticing! You must’ve been in so much pain all this time, huh? I’m sorry for not noticing and doing more.’

Momo feels something cold press against her arm. She looks down to see Bakugou pushing his unopened drink into her elbow.

‘Take it, staying hydrated helps with the cramps.’ He stands up and brushes his pants. ‘Think you can stand?’

Momo takes a sip of the drink, relishing the cold fizzy burn as it slides down her throat. She takes a deep breath and stands, stumbling a little before catching herself. Todoroki steadies her around the elbow.

‘Can we take you to recovery girl?’

Momo smiles warmly. ‘I’ve been already. We’ve been working together on some remedies. It’ll take time, but I hope we can come up with something.’ Momo hums. ‘I should put more work into this. I can’t be the only hero that faces such bad period pains.’

‘That’s so manly Yaomomo!’ Kirishima beams. ‘I’m kinda dumb so I don’t think I can help with the research but let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’

Momo giggles into the back of her hand and they start moving towards class together. As they reach the top of the stairs another bout of cramps settles into her gut, and she clenches the railing with a white knuckled grip.

The boys stand around, guarding her, supporting her, giving her small smiles and reassuring nods. Todoroki offers her his hand again, and she quickly makes a heating pad and hands it to him, so she can continue to use it during class. Bakugou urges her to drink more water, and Kirishima keeps telling her how manly she is.

When they get to class, everyone crowds around her and she laughs softly, promising to explain everything later. The rest of the day passes by with little incident, and throughout it all, Todoroki takes the heating pad from her, heats it up and hands it back, hour after hour.

They talk about it in the dorms after class, and recounting her episode opens the floodgates for all the girls.

‘I get really bad migraines,’ Uraraka sighs, rubbing at her temples as if in anticipation. ‘It makes the nausea from my quirk even more unbearable.’

Jirou nods. ‘I get you. I have leg cramps, makes it impossible to use my legs during heartbeat surround. The speakers are too painful to use, and I’m never as stable as I’d like to be.’ She gives Kirishima a pointed look. ‘I’ll join you at the gym next time, teach me some leg moves. I want to get stronger.’ Kirishima gives her a huge thumbs up and a blinding grin.

‘My back gives out sometimes,’ Mina says. ‘I have this pain that burns in my lower back on a few occasions, it’s the worst.’

‘I don’t have a lot of physical symptoms,’ Hagakure pipes in, ‘but I do have PMS and depressive episodes. I’ve been trying to figure out a good med balance to fix it.’ All the girls nod at that, squeezing her arms and shoulders in silent support.

The teachers are brought into the loop too, and Aizawa gently berates Momo for not coming to him sooner.

‘We’re here to help,’ he says, eyes the gentlest she’s ever seen. ‘Learn to rely on your teachers more, will you? Such troublemakers , the lot of you.’

Momo makes hot packs for the girls after that, and the teachers don’t blink when one of them passes it to Todoroki in the middle of class as the boy just heats it the appropriate amount before passing it back without so much as a hiccup in his work.

Bakugou sends Momo articles and tips from his mom about pain management and dealing with cramps. He says it’s because he wants her to be in top condition when he beats her for #1, otherwise it won’t, in his eloquent words, mean jack shit. Momo tries some stuff out, happily surprised when her symptoms are even the slightest bit reduced. Kirishima offers to make them all spinach shakes, and they take him up on that every so often, complimenting his limited cooking abilities.

And on the days Momo is back on the bathroom floor heaving into the toilet, Jirou holds her hair back. Mina cuddles her on the couch when her hands are clenched as she bites back tears, and Ojiro sits by her feet, a reassuring presence to depend on if she ever needs something.

They’ve still got a long way to go as a society, but it’s a start. And a damn good one at that.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Summary: Laxus has returned to the guild, but is still scared of not being accepted. Freed does what he can to help, and insists that Laxus attend some of the events held in the guildhall. Over the course of a year, and four different parties, the guild starts feeling like home again. And Freed, well... Freed has something to confess.

Notes: Hi. This was a little thing I wrote becuase I haven't done enough canon-verse writing; that and I want to procrastonate from uni work. I hope you all enjoy it, and sorry for any mistakes.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Part of the Party

The Summer Solstice

Freed was, despite what some might claim, rather fond of parties. Not so much in the way a typical Fairy Tail mage might do; he didn't find pleasure in getting as drunk as his body would allow, starting a fight, and collapsing in the mountain of rubble they'd created. Rather, he went to the guild parties to nurse a glass of wine, watch the inevitable decline in both intelligence and balance of his friends, and watch from the side-lines. It was his own form of enjoyment, and yet it had somehow given him the reputation as, as one of his guildmates had so eloquently put it, a boring stick-in-the-mud bastard.

That had been Natsu, who at that moment was wobbling haphazardly towards the bar, hugging Pantherlilly as if he were his own cat, singing at the top of his lungs with neither pitch nor tone. Hardly a reputable source of judgment, Freed concluded.

Still, that was the reputation he had gained, and he wasn't helping that tonight.

Rather, he was making it worse. From the moment he had arrived he had refused any drinks, had perched himself at a table on the second floor as to overlook the party but not be a part of it, and hardly spoken to anybody; not the most convivial actions for celebrating the summer solstice. It hadn't been for lack of wanting to be involved, but rather out of necessity. This was Laxus' first guild event since he had returned, and he hadn't been entirely enthusiastic to go.

It was a problem that had Freed worried. Laxus had been accepted back with open arms, and yet he was still skittish around anyone other than the Raijinshuu. He had been forgiven, but didn't seem to believe it, and avoided everyone as much as he could. Freed knew that, had he not been forceful with his friend, Laxus would have spent the night alone.

So they'd made a deal. Laxus would attend the party, but he was allowed to leave at any moment.

Freed felt that this was maybe too big a step taken too quickly, and he'd only realised that as they approached the guildhall. Laxus was… off-kilter, and this might push him over the edge. So, he had decided that if the worse did happen, Freed would be sober and waiting to help Laxus with it. But it didn't look like he needed it.

"You can't just watch him all night, you know," Mirajane commented as she walked up the stairs, holding a glass of chocolate milkshake; if he couldn't have alcohol, Freed would indulge in other ways. "You might enjoy yourself more. He's doing okay."

"I know," Freed agreed, taking the drink and placing the used glass from earlier on Mirajane's tray. "But I think, the longer he's down there alone, the better. He needs to be fully submerged without his crutch."

"His crutch being you, Ever and Bicks?" Mirajane asked, and Freed nodded. "That's why they're avoiding him, then."

"Indeed, although I suspect Ever would gravitate towards your brother no matter what," Freed chuckled a little, and Mirajane preened a little at the reminder. "Though I must admit, Bickslow, Loke and Natsu being so close does concern me. They're chaotic enough as is, I'd rather not deal with them all together."

"I think they're playing tic-tac-toe," Mirajane frowned a little. "I think it's only a matter of time before Loke suggests making it strip tic-tac-toe, but it's innocent enough right now."

"Perhaps bring me a bucket of water, I could probably pour it over them all from here should they get too involved in their game," Freed mused aloud, and Mirajane laughed a little at the thought.

They both remained in silence for a while, Freed watching as Laxus had a somewhat awkward looking conversation with Reedus, who seemed to be requesting Laxus model for a painting sometimes in the future. Freed smiled a little, hearing Laxus say that he'd consider it; a step in the right direction already. Before his excommunication, Laxus wouldn't have given a second before denying the request, it was nice for him to be making the effort.

Too engrossed in his pride for his friend, Freed missed the slightly sad look on Mirajane's face as she looked down at him. Because of this, when she spoke again, Freed found himself on the back foot and ill-prepared.

"Have you told him yet?" She asked, voice soft but words making Freed freeze. She continued. "It's just that you said that you would, and I really do think he'd-"

"It's not the time," Freed spoke softly, but with firmness.

"When will the time be, Freed?"

"He's," Freed began, but stopped and sighed. "His life is a mess right now. He has nowhere to live other than my sofa, feels like the place he's called home for most of his life doesn't want him there, and doesn't know what to do. It would be cruel to add something else onto that."

"I understand that, but it might be nice for him," Mirajane shrugged. "He likes you back, he always has. He's just not been ready for you until now."

"Well, if that's the case, then we can both wait until things are a little less precarious," Freed stated, putting an end to the conversation.

Mirajane didn't seem to want to push, so Freed looked over the banister to the lower floor to see that Laxus' conversation with Reedus had ended. He looked a little lost for a moment, and Freed let a smile flicker onto his face before it immediately died. Laxus couldn't see it yet, but Lucy was approaching him. She, more than anyone else in the guild, was the person Laxus was most scared of speaking with. He had been avoiding her like the plague, and by the expression of determination on her face, she had noticed.

Freed wanted to intercept, or at least break his own rule and be there beside Laxus. Many times, Laxus had expressed regret for how he had treated his guildmates, and more than anyone else he believed Lucy could not forgive him. Many of the others had known Laxus before his shift in character, but Lucy had only seen him at his worth. He couldn't believe that she would give him any benefit of the doubt.

He clearly didn't know her. Freed had thought that way, until he'd been forced to speak with her about fixing his issue with his hair – something that should have been humiliating, but had instead been easy, and without complication. The woman was kind, nothing less.

"He'll be fine," Mirajane assured Freed. "She just wants to get to know him, and he's been okay with everyone else. It'll be fine."

"I know," Freed said, not believing his own words.

They watched from afar as Lucy finally came face to face with Laxus. He was clearly tense, face unmoving and words stilted. Lucy seemed unaffected, chatting away as she so often didn't with enthusiasm and with cheerfulness. Freed had often wondered how so much optimism could be contained in a single person, but he was glad for it now. This was good, it was going fine.

Until it wasn't.

Freed couldn't hear what had been said, but without warning, Laxus erupted into lightning. He was consumed by it within a moment, and bolts of flickering magic shot out of the door, breaking it open and lighting up the city as it darted through the streets. Laxus was gone, and Lucy was left with her mouth agape, silent in her shock. Freed hissed, placing his milkshake on the table and storming towards the staircase. Teleportation runes had consumed him before he had reached the top step, and he found himself in his sitting room, with Laxus on the sofa, hunched over, crying weakly and trying to stop.

With a small breath, Freed stepped forward and placed a hand on Laxus' shoulder. Laxus tensed, but leaned into it.

"I am so proud of you," Freed whispered. "You were spectacular, and did so well."

Laxus didn't respond. That was how the rest of the night went, until Laxus' tears subsided, and he slept curled up, head resting on Freed's lap. All in all, despite how it had ended, Freed knew that this had been good for Laxus, and was something of a breakthrough for him. As the man gently snored, and Freed ran his hands through his hair, Freed repeated himself in a quiet whisper.

"I am so damn proud of you, Laxus."

---

Freed's Birthday

The singing was a little too much, Freed found.

Discordant, with its volume inversely proportionate to its talent, it sounded somewhat like a bag of cats trying to fight with a set of bagpipes in the middle of a tornado. Well, perhaps that was slightly hyperbolic and fanciful, but he'd had his fair share of champagne throughout the day and as such was allowed to enjoy his creative side.

He'd awoken to his team making him breakfast – pancakes, pain au chocolates, and cinnamon rolls – before he had been taken to the guild. As normal, it was a loud and rowdy affair. The peculiar tradition of his yearly fight with Natsu took place, a grand meal had been prepared, and he'd been sung to. Very very loudly.

Still, it was a nice day. A tradition.

It was good to have Laxus there, too. The blonde had been present for the breakfast, and Freed had expected that would be it for his inclusion of the day. A month had passed since the summer solstice party, and Laxus' time spent in the guildhall was still minimal. Other steps had been made – he'd modelled for Reedus, set up a weekly training session with Gajeel, and went on an incredibly unexpected mission with Happy – but he still struggled with the guild as a whole. He confessed that their team spirit was too much, and it felt like he was intruding.

Freed didn't want to push him. The first party had kicked him into action, and now Laxus was getting to know his guildmembers both old and new, and if doing so one-by-one was what it took then so be it.

But, Laxus had come. He'd eaten, drunk, and Freed had caught sight of him and Gajeel laughing together while the rest of the guild sang at him. It was nice to see, and it had made the signing more bearable. Slightly more bearable, anyway.

Then, the presents came.

As always, they were an onslaught of gifts, some personalised, others more general. Levy had gotten him a first edition copy of 'The Mechanics of Magic', Erza a grindstone to polish his sword on, Reedus a painting containing all of his team and Laxus in the heat of battle, and Lucy a set of quills and ink. He thanked them all graciously, touched by the effort that had been spent on them. His guildmates really were too kind.

The thought made him look up, glancing towards where Laxus had been. Freed hoped that, upon seeing the forgiveness and open kindness he was receiving, Laxus might feel more involved himself. When he looked up, he saw that Laxus had left the guildhall.

Dammit.

He sat through the rest of the gifts, trying to remain focused but unable to feel bad. Eventually they ended, and the party moved onto the next stage: Gajeel and his guitar. If Laxus' departure wasn't excuse enough for Freed to leave the guildhall and go into the courtyard, then the music certainly was.

Once outside, it didn't take him long to find where Laxus had ended up. Freed had hoped that his friend hadn't left altogether, and was gratified when he saw him sitting on the edge of the pool, his boots bedside him and his trousers rolled up. Freed smiled as he walked forward, kicking off his own shoes and folding his own trousers to his knees. He sat beside Laxus, letting his calves rest limply in the cold water in the pool. Laxus shifted a little, clearly in his own head and not having noticed Freed's approach.

"Hey," He murmured quietly. "Sorry I didn't… I couldn't… just got a bit much, y'know."

"I understand," Freed said immediately. "I'm impressed that you managed to-"

"You don't need to do that. I appreciate it, but I don't need you telling me that I'm making steps," Laxus argued, smiling a little. He bumped his shoulder into Freed's, as if to make sure Freed knew he'd taken no offence.

"Very well," Freed nodded. "I'm glad you're here though, it wouldn't have felt right without you."

"I can't let my right-hand man celebrate his birthday without me," Laxus grinned, and Freed chuckled quietly, lifting his foot and watching the ripples that the action caused. "Speaking of which, I should give you this," Laxus leant away from Freed for a moment, reached for something, and handed Freed a hastily wrapped box. He didn't meet Freed's eye when he handed it to him. "I was gonna give it to you in the morning, but wanted to force myself to come here so held off. So, erm, happy birthday."

"Thank you, Laxus," Freed smiled, taking the box with a smile.

"You don't know what it is yet," Laxus grinned a little. "Bicks didn't get you a speedo this year, maybe I wanted to keep up the tradition."

"If you did, then there would be a sense of irony because you'd be the one ended up in the pool," Freed chuckled. "And he did, actually. Somehow, and I can only blame Mirajane for this, he had it baked into my slice of the cake," Laxus barked out a laugh. "It was lime green. In a few years' time I'll have a whole rainbow of them."

"Wonder what he'll do when he runs outta colours," Laxus grinned, before nudging Freed again. "Open it."

Freed did as instructed, and halted a little when he realised what it was. It was an Armillary Sphere. It seemed to be made from solid gold, shining under the lamps strewn across the courtyard. He gently ran his hands over the incremental engravings, adjusting the device slowly with a look of wonderment on his face.

"It's beautiful," He whispered. "How did you…"

"I don't know if you remember, but we did a mission together a couple years back and finished it early. We got pretty pissed after, since neither of us had had a break for a while," Laxus was a little red in the face. "We were lying in a clearing somewhere, looking at the stars. And you suddenly started naming them all, telling me all the stories associated with the consolations. You kept going, you could even figure out our coordinates based on what we could see. You just kept talking about stars, and astronomy and I never forgot it. You mentioned that you used to have one of these in yer old house, and I saw it in an antique store before I came back to the guild and thought you might have liked it."

"It's incredible," Freed was a little breath taken. The fact Laxus had brought it before returning to the guild was just… "Thank you, Laxus. It's… perhaps one of the nicest things someone has done for me."

"Aw don't say that," Laxus laughed a little, but there was a quaver in his words. "Not when I've got the heights of the speedo collection to contend with. And what did Gray get ya? A monocle? Who the hell put him up to that?"

"In fairness, I did gift him a scarf for his last birthday. Which, with him is the equivalent of throwing a pebble into an active volcano with how long it'll stay on his body," Freed chuckled. "I did tell him that, so I suspect the monocle is his act of revenge."

Laxus made a little laugh, leaning back on his hands and watching the ripples across the water. Freed did the same, shifting slightly and allowing his side to press gently against Laxus'. Laxus didn't move, and Freed had a soft smile across his features as he allowed a yawn to split his lips. A party was nice and all, but this was better.

---

Halloween

"Fuck," Laxus gaped as he looked at Freed. "You take this seriously, huh?"

Freed chuckled a little at Laxus' reaction. As demanded by Bickslow, Freed had kept his costume a secret from everyone, including Laxus. That had been a difficult feat, given that Freed had removed his desk and books from his office, turned it back into a bedroom and they had become official roommates. The costume had been tucked away in the back of his closet for a month, and this was the first time anyone other than Freed himself had seen it.

As always, the Raijinshuu went in a themed costume. This year, fighters throughout history. Evergreen had insisted on being a Viking, Bickslow had chosen an old Rune Amry uniform, and Freed had decided on a gladiator.

The costume was hardly the most accurate, historically speaking, but Freed liked it. His torso was covered by a leather chest plate, complete with straps to hold it in place, a single metal shoulder guard, and a red cape that hung to his lower back. His modesty was protected by a tunic which ended above his knees. He had also adorned sandals that wrapped around his legs, and he'd forgone the helmet as it seemed unnecessary in the end. The look was completed with his sword that was attached to his hip, as normal.

"I forgot, you haven't seen any of our costumes, have you," Freed chuckled. "What do you think."

"It's…" Laxus seemed to pause for a moment. "Good. Really good- creative, I mean. You put a lot of effort into it."

"Thank you for noticing," Freed smiled. "Are you ready to go?"

"Give me a couple minutes to change," Laxus dismissed, and Freed frowned as Laxus retreated into his bedroom.

Laxus had been adamant that he wouldn't wear any costumes at all, because he wasn't into that kind of thing. It was what Freed had expected, and honestly he was happy that Laxus was willing to come at all. Laxus had been at the guild more often lately, and Freed felt that maybe his birthday party had helped with that. Perhaps it was nice to know that Laxus could get some time alone, gather his thoughts, but still be a part of the guild's events.

Freed sat on the sofa for a moment, having to adjust his position when he realised that his tunic had a tendency to ride up and show… everything. Better to know now than to make the mistake in the guild where his friends would be delighted to mock him for it.

Maybe he should allow for another anachronism and wear some boxers…

The door to Laxus' room opened, and Freed looked towards him immediately. A spluttering of laughter slipped out before Freed could stop it, and Laxus raised an eyebrow at him, amusement obvious in his face. He stepped forward, spread his arms to better reveal himself, and grinned.

"Just as good as yours, right?" He joked.

It wasn't as good as Freed's. Laxus' costume consisted of a fairly cheap red suit, a white shirt with ruffles of all things, and a pair of red devil horns. It was put together in a rush, had no detail given to it, and was perhaps to most delightful thing Freed had ever seen. One year ago, when Freed had been celebrating the holiday without Laxus, he wondered if the blonde might have scoffed at the Raijinshuu's new found fondness for Halloween. Now, Laxus had a smile that was almost goofy on his face, wearing a costume that he'd made for himself. Freed couldn't ask for more.

"It's certainly a costume," Freed smirked, and Laxus laughed.

"You know, I'm dressed as the devil," Laxus all but sauntered forward, a good look on the man. "And if you're a demon, that kind of makes me your king, right? And, as your king, surely you should show me some respect and kneel for me."

Rather than allow that comment to affect him – boxers really would have been a good idea – he immediately spoke again. "Say that to Mirajane and I'll pay your tab for a month."

"Nah, I like my organs on the inside," Laxus grinned, walking towards the front door.

"You know that the moment Bickslow and Ever seen that you're willing to wear a costume of any kind, they're going to drag you into our tradition whether you like it or not," Freed taunted as he closed the door and locked it behind him. "I'm afraid to say, Laxus, that this," He gestures to himself. "Is your future."

Laxus paused for a moment, then smiled a private smile.

"I can think of a lot of things worse than that, Freed."

---

New Year's Eve

Laxus Dreyar and Lucy Heartfilia were having a drinking contest.

It was perhaps the only thing that Freed had seen that might convince him that miracles were real. But there they were, two pints of beer in front of them both, drinking as if their lives depended on it. Even more ridiculous, Laxus had been the one instigate it. He'd brought the tray of drinks over, looked Lucy dead in the eye and claimed that, if she drank hers before he did his, then he'd pay for every drink she got for all of January.

Freed watched from above, smiling a little as he leant on the banister. As normal, he had spent the party with a glass of red, watching as his guildmates got drunker and drunker, making asses out of themselves for his amusement. It had been perfect, and he was delighted that Laxus seemed to be getting involved.

"Shit," Laxus cussed loudly when he placed his glass down. "Where the hell did you learn to drink like that?"

Lucy said something in return, but it was too quiet for Freed to hear. She had clearly won their wager, and Laxus seemed to be in good spirits despite the financial loss. They spoke for a little while longer before breaking apart, Lucy walking towards her team, Laxus looking around before spotting where Freed had decided to stay.

He took the stairs to the second floor two by two, grinning at Freed widely when he was face to face with him. He wasn't drunk – Freed had seen Laxus drunk before many times – but he was in high spirits. It was nice to see.

"Hey," Laxus greeted. "You still sticking up here, huh?"

"Best place to be," Freed shrugged, leaning on the banister when Laxus was beside him. "You can see everyone stumbling and falling, and there's no chance of one of them vomiting on you."

"You really know how to party, huh?" Laxus teased, and Freed chuckled.

For a moment, they watched over the guild. Their arms lightly grazed one another, and Freed found himself smiling a little. These moments hadn't happened before. Laxus hadn't ever allowed himself to slow down, to enjoy himself. Ever since Laxus had come back, he'd been more… contemplative. He allowed himself moments of calm and time to think, and Freed enjoyed sharing those times with him. Over the last year, he'd spent many hours in silent company with Laxus by his side, and those moments had become very dear to Freed.

"Was talking to Mira," Laxus spoke up again. "Said you made a promise to her, that you'd tell me something before the year ended."

"Did she?" Freed mumbled slightly. He would be having words with the interfering woman.

"She did," Laxus agreed, looking towards Freed with a soft expression. Freed kept his gaze on the guildhall below. "But, between the two of us, I don't think you should."

Freed froze. "You don't."

"Nah, I don't," Laxus agreed. "Because everything you wanna say to me I already know. Have for a while, but I've been too shit scared to deal with it. Not anymore, though."

"Is that so?" Freed asked, not conveying tone. Where was Laxus going with this?

"Yeah. Pushing away my feelings nearly fucking killed me, and it ain't gonna happen again. And the thing is, everything you were gonna say to me, I know I wanna say to you. But I don't think I've gotten to that point yet, so instead I'm gonna ask something of ya."

"Ask what of me?"

"I'm gonna ask you make a promise to me," Laxus stated. "I'm gonna ask that you promise that," he looked to the countdown clock above the door, "in forty nine seconds, you kiss me. I'm gonna ask that you promise to go to dinner with me tomorrow night as my date. I'm gonna ask you promise me you'll let me show you how much I fucking care about you, and how much I know I'm gonna love you the second I can," His voice wavered slightly. "Because I really-"

Freed cut him off, leaning up and cupping Laxus' cheek with his right hand. He leant forward, pressed their lips together and kissed Laxus for the very first time. Bells rang and fireworks exploded around them, but neither man cared. Freed melted into the kiss, and Laxus wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

"I promise," Freed whispered, before starting another incredible, explosive kiss.

[thirstyforcharacters]

Bar Fight (Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x fem bounty hunter! Reader)

Part 1 of 2 of The Bounty Hunter and the Mandalorian

Summary: When a bounty hunter attempts to get her quarry, the ensuing battle with a mysterious stranger takes an unexpected turn.

Notes: Hello! This is meant to be the prequel to Rendezvous, (which you can find here) it's the scene that was briefly described in one of the beginning paragraphs. It can also definitely be read as a standalone, though! I know my updates definitely haven't been as frequent because finals are getting close, but I'm still trying to write because it's one of the only things keeping me sane. Hope you enjoy this Mandalorian story! PS: Thank you for 50 followers 🥰 I know that doesn't sound like much, but I honestly didn’t think that anyone would actually read my content, so thank you for giving me serotonin! (use of she/her pronouns, no y/n)

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! a bar fight (duh)/canon-typical violence, finger-fucking, hand jobs 

WC: 2.8 k

Another day, another bounty. That’s what you were thinking to yourself as you flew Freya, your trusty ship, back to Nevarro. Solonoe Carslit apparently owed some money to the Hutts, and of course, being one of the best bounty hunters in the guild, you were able to get the job done. Dragging Solonoe back to Tatooine wasn’t much of a problem once you knocked him unconscious and froze him in carbonite, and the Hutts payed you well, giving you enough money to make a much needed repair to your hyperdrive and get enough fuel to last you for a few weeks. You even splurged on a new pair of boots, since your old ones were torn to shreds. Now, you were headed back to Nevarro; Greef Karga said he would have some more jobs by now.

You touched down on the planet, landing in the open space just outside of town. You strode your way down the streets, and most who were in your way practically leaped to the side as you brushed past. You usually had this effect on people, your stoic expression, dark and practical clothing, and the blaster rifle, which you took off the body of a Stormtrooper, slung across your back, the blasters hanging from your belt, and the knives tucked snugly in their thigh holsters usually intimidated those who weren’t like you. You swiftly entered the cantina in which you knew Karga would be located.

And there he was, sitting at a booth, tucked in the corner of the bar, glancing around for anyone interested. And interested you were.

You sat in front of him, folding your hands on the table and giving him an intense stare.

“Ah, you’re back,” he acknowledged, “I’m sure the Hutts paid you handsomely.”

“You could say that. But I want a little more.”

He chuckled, “Always on the move, you are. You’re lucky, I think I have something for you.”

He took one of the familiar pucks from his pocket and turned it on. A human woman appeared on screen with bright green hair, which was shaved on one side, and eyes to match.

“Isahei Haradde is the name. Apparently, she stole a sizeable sum from a rich Imperial family. Rumor is that she’s hiding out somewhere on Bespin. They’re offering a pretty sizable reward for the one who catches her. In beskar.”

“Beskar?” your eyebrow raised, “that could be enough to buy myself a new blaster. Or make some new armor.”

“Indeed. I’m sure you’re up for it, you’re one of the best we have. Though, I will tell you, there are multiple other bounty hunters gunning for her as well, given the size of the reward,” warned Greef.

“I can handle it,” was your short reply.

Karga wished you good luck as you snatched the puck and jumped up from the table, eager to move to your destination. You made your way back to Freya. You were quite proud of her; she was an old, beat up Republic gunship you found in a scrapyard that you had fixed up yourself. The heavy armor and multiple guns you had rebuilt meant that almost no one could take down your baby. You had gotten her pretty beat up a couple times, but you always made sure the dings and bumps were taken care of.

You punched in the coordinates to Bespin and off you went. You launched into hyperspace and put the ship on autopilot, choosing to focus your attention on the job instead. Bespin was a mining planet, which mostly appeared clean from the outside. But you knew where all of the shady spots were, the seedy bars, the dark alleyways, the mine shafts that were used as hideouts for criminal masterminds, etc. Knowing the type of personnel you usually had to deal with, you figured you’d probably start in one of the bars.

Before long, you had arrived on the planet. You landed on one of the landing strips more on the outskirt of the city so that you could be a bit more inconspicuous, and wandered through the city until you found your destination.

Cloud City Cantina wasn’t exactly a creative name, but the drinks were cheap and there was plenty of activity not meant for the faint of heart. You could already hear some commotion from the inside when you approached the door and peaking inside confirmed your suspicions. Four people were standing by the bar, one you immediately recognized as your quarry. The other three were a Togruta female, Rodian male, and someone dressed head to toe in beskar armor, so you couldn’t tell exactly who he was, but you recognized him as a Mandalorian. Though you couldn’t see his face, he was alluring; while the other two were arguing loudly, he just stood there, observing through his helmet. He was casually leaning against the bar, one of his hands propper up his head, and the other was holding his blaster. The trio were obviously bounty hunters who were “discussing” who was going to get the bounty. You decided that you would decide for them, and you strode over to them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you snarked, clearly not sorry, “but I’ll be taking that bounty.”

Before any of them could react, you swept the Rodian’s legs out from beneath him. He squawked in surprise and the other two lept into action. The Togruta shot at your head, and you managed to duck just in time. During the confusion, Isahei sprang from her seat and made a run for the door, but the Mandalorian launched a whipcord from one of his vambraces (which you didn’t see coming) and it wrapped itself around her, causing her to topple to the ground. The Rodian staggered up from the ground and threw a punch at your head, which you skillfully deflected. You reached behind you and grabbed a beer mug and promptly smashed it over his head. He dropped to the ground once more, definitely at least unconscious. You turned your attention back to the Togruta, who shot at you again. You took out your vibro-knives and ran at her, slicing first at her blaster wielding arm, then at her face. She jumped back, expecting the charge, but you still managed to clip her arm, making her hiss in pain. She brought her elbow down and slammed it into your stomach, making you groan in pain. You slashed back at her in retaliation, and blood soon tinged her thigh from the deep cut you inflicted. She dropped to the ground as well.

You looked around for the Mandalorian, and barely saw him dragging the quarry through the crowd. Without really thinking, you hurled one of your knives at him and it sunk into one of the gaps in his armor, jst above his elbow. He dropped the quarry with a grunt of pain and whipped around while yanking the knife from his arm and throwing it on the floor. You assumed he locked eyes with you, making you smirk triumphantly.

“Couldn’t let you get away with that,” you called to him, stepping through the crowd, which parted for you, “I’d like that reward.”

“Well, you’re not getting it,” came his reply, which was sort of staticky through the helmet.

Even so, the deep timbre of his voice made a strange flipping feeling make itself known in your belly. Being attracted to your competition wasn’t going to help you in this situation, especially seeing as you were now practically face to face.

“Really? I beg to differ.”

“I’m the one who restrained her. That bounty should go to me.”

“Well, I’m the one who started the fight in the first place, and you wouldn’t have been able to restrain her without that. So technically, you couldn’t have done it without me.”

He didn’t say anything after that. You thought that maybe you had gotten to him when he suddenly took his rifle off of his back and swung it at you. You ducked out of the way and took out your own. You were in too close of quarters to be able to shoot at each other, so you used your rifles as bludgeoning weapons while Isahei, your quarry, just layed there.

After a long bout of fighting, it became pretty clear that neither of you was more skilled than the other. You both leaned against the bar, out of breath, staring at each other. You were sure that his stare was meant to be intimidating, if his body language told you anything. But yours was also a bit more of a sensual nature. You couldn’t help it; he was a strong fighter with a sexy voice. You could tell that there was muscle upon muscle underneath his armor, and you were able to see the way his pants hugged his massive thighs. You did your best to be subtle, but that was kind of difficult in such close quarters.

“I saw we just do rock, paper, scissors and call it a night,” you joked.

He chuckled, “I think I have a better idea, especially since you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

You flushed slightly at being caught, but hoped that the dim lighting of the bar covered it up, “I’m just trying to be intimidating. This usually works.”

“Yeah, because staring at my thighs is extremely intimidating.”

Oh. Well, you couldn’t play it off anymore.

“To be fair, I can’t say I’m entirely innocent in that regard, either.”

Oh. He was attracted to you, too. That was news.

“I see. So what’s this idea of yours?” you questioned.

He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “Whoever makes the other come first gets the bounty.”

Your eyes widened comically. He was asking for what you had been thinking, and in pretty explicit terms, too.

The soft laugh near your ear sent shivers down your spine, “At a loss for words? Or are you not up for the challenge?”

“No,” you said immediately, “I’m up for it. I like to think I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“I’m sure you are,” he murmured, picking up your knife and tucking it back into your thigh holster, purposefully brushing his fingers along the inside of your thigh, “but so am I.”

The two of you dragged the quarry to a small, unassuming inn and snuck into one of the empty rooms. You left the quarry outside of the room, attaching the cord to a bannister, knowing that it was a very small chance of her escaping. Once you closed the door, the game was afoot. Almost immediately, he pushed you onto the bed; you should’ve known you were fighting a losing battle then, but you were determined to get this quarry. He draped himself on top of you and teasingly pinned your hands above your head.

“That’s cheating,” you snapped, “how am I supposed to get you off if I can’t use my hands?”

“Get creative,” he replied while his hips slowly began to grind into yours.

Though he was playing it cool, you could feel how hard he already was through his pants. Maybe you had a shot at this, as long as he didn’t know that you were already dripping. Every grind of his hips against yours made it more and more difficult to keep the moans that were threatening to spill from your lips at bay, but you managed to keep them in. Until one of his hands travelled from you wrists down your torso to the small strip of skin showing between your now-untucked shirt and your pants. His fingers slipped under the band of your pants and somehow almost immediately found your clit, rubbing vigorously. You couldn’t help but moan softly at the feeling.

“Maker, you’re dripping. Sure you’re gonna last?”

That was enough for you to spring into action. You pulled your wrists out of his one-handed grip and trailed them down his armor-clad torso. You removed the armor that was blocking your path downwards; though it was difficult without his assistance, you managed. You were about to dip your hand under the waistband of his pants when he ran one of his fingers through your slit, making you whimper and temporarily forget what you needed to be doing.

“Shit,” you breathed when his finger pushed into your dripping cunt.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmured, “bet you’re gonna cum soon with how wet you are.”

With all of the self-control you could muster, you grabbed his wrist to still his movements and used your other hand to finally reach into his pants and grab his rock-hard member. A soft groan crackled through the helmet, causing you to finally see through his put-together facade.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you crooned, starting to move your hand, desperate for him to cum before you.

You saw him nod jerkily, then he used his free hand to pull your hand from his wrist and begin his movements in earnest.

“It does,” he started, “but I need you to come first.”

“Not a chance,” you said through gritted teeth, twisting your hand around his dick, “that bounty is mine.”

Only moments after you said that did he add another finger, making you clench around him. He curled his fingers inside of you, making a soft “fuck” fall from your lips as you continued to jerk him, brushing your thumb across the tip. He cursed as you brought your thumb, covered in his precome, to your lips and sucked.

“You taste divine,” you whispered, batting your eyelashes enticingly.

“Glad you think so,” he snarked, “Maker, you’re just gushing around me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it; this was the wettest you had been in a long time. You knew that you weren’t going to last much longer; your legs were trembling and you were barely holding back your orgasm, making you redouble your efforts. You increased your pace, making him moan out in pleasure. Just when you thought that maybe you had him, his thumb rubbed against your clit, and you were done for. Your orgasm washed over you and you whimpered as he fingered you through your high. You tried to continue to jerk him through your orgasm, but you lost your grip on him as the pleasure overtook you.

You came down from your high and you could almost feel him smirking.

“Guess I won.”

“Guess so. You may have won the bounty, but I could just leave you on edge with no way to get back down. Not much of a winner now, are you?” you sassed back, pulling your hand out of his pants.

In a flash, his hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it back in, “Now that would be rude, wouldn’t it?”

“So is taking my bounty.”

You attempted to pull your hands away, but he grasped them both in his own. You knew that he was stronger than you, but you tried to break free anyway.

That is, until you heard him whisper, “Please.”

You looked into where his eyes would be in the helmet and you felt your resolve break. You knew you couldn’t just leave him high and dry, even if he did just take your bounty.

“Okay,” you replied, and he released your hands.

Your hands returned to their former position, wrapped around his dick. Now that you weren’t worried about getting off, you focused your attention on him. His dick was pretty, hard and absolutely leaking. You knew he was close. His body language was tense, like a bowstring that was too tight.

“Cum for me,” you purred, “I can tell how close you are.”

A sound akin from a whimper fell from his lips as one of your hands moved to toy with his balls. It wasn’t long before the bowstring snapped, and the white liquid covered your hands. You wiped off his release on the inn’s sheets, knowing that someone would probably clean it sometime. You both got off of the bed and got yourselves together. You exited the room and the Mandalorian took hold of the quarry. Disappointment began to settle in at your lost bounty, though you tried not to show it on your face.

You must’ve failed though, because he meandered back over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, “You’re a really good fighter. You’ll get another one.”

“Thanks,” you replied softly, though you were still pretty frustrated.

“At least you got a pretty decent orgasm out of it,” he remarked.

A small smile spread across your face at that, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Here, give me your holo,” he requested.

Your quirked up your eyebrow, but handed it over. He punched something in and handed it back to you.

“If you ever want to do something like that again, let me know.”

He dragged the quarry behind him then, and before long, he was out of sight. When you couldn’t see him anymore, you took out your holo and glanced at your contacts.

Mando.

That’s what he had saved himself as. Your small smile grew wider. Perhaps you’d be seeing him again. For now, though, it was time to get your next job.

[dearlazerbunny]

On Frogs and Other Matters

Pairings: Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Genre/Rating: G, angst-to-fluff

Words: 4,200

Summary: a request from Anon for a family friend reader whom one of Kyoya’s brothers has a crush on! I know technically this isn’t canon-compliant because Yuuichi is married in the manga but let’s just ignore that, k? Enjoy! :D

“Kyoya.”

“Kyooooooooyaaaaaaaaaaa.”

A socked foot slowly sneaks over the top edge of Kyoya’s laptop, wiggling enticingly. To his credit, the boy studiously typing away doesn’t even acknowledge the intrusion-that is, until the toes attached to said foot decide to start erroneously pressing keys here and there.

“What.”

“I’m bored.”

“We just started the movie ten minutes ago.”

“I know, but you’re not even watching it!”

“I have seen this movie approximately eleven and a half times. I think I can spare missing another viewing.”

“But it’s a masterpiece!”

“So you’ve said.”

You sigh and hug a pillow to your chest, squishing your chin down into the top of it as you watch Tiana kiss Frog-Naveen. Absently, you wonder what it might be like to kiss the boy across the couch from you- only for your waking mind to squash that thought into a bloody pulp and toss it back where it came from. Kyoya and you are friends. Best friends. And you’ll be damned if you ruin over a decade of being partners in crime just because you’ve developed some… interesting feelings over the past year or so.

“The whole point of putting on the movie was so you would stop working.”

“I am an excellent multitasker.”

You groan and let your head flop back onto the arm of the sofa you’re leaning up against. “Maybe the club should do a Princess and the Frog theme day.”

That statement warrants an eyebrow quirk. “Oh really?”

“Yes really. Tamaki would be Naveen, obviously, he’s all-” you wave a hand in the air- “-schmoozy. Aaaaaaaaand Renge could be Charlotte.” You gasp. “Nekozawa as Dr. Facilier! It’s perfect!”

Kyoya makes a noncommittal noise. “And who would I be?”

“Well Tiana, of course.”

This time you get an eyebrow raise and he actually looks at you. “Tiana.”

“Well yeah! You’re both always running yourself into the ground.”

“I do not-”

You neatly close the lid of his laptop with your foot, trapping his fingers underneath. “Do too.”

He glares at you, though it lacks fire. “I haven’t saved that.”

“Come on Kyoya, just an hour or two of no computer, no fielding crazy phone calls from Tamaki-”

“-if I don’t answer he’s likely to set himself or his house on fire, or both-”

“And no complaining!” You fix him with your signature look, the one that convinced him to let you buy out a whole store’s worth of donuts on national donut day when you were seven. You made it though fifteen before you were ready to hurl- during which Kyoya dutifully held your hair back and got you some water afterwards.

Kyoya stares at you for a moment, the look in his eyes unreadable behind the glint of his lenses. Then he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Fine. One hour.”

“Yes!” You lightly smack him with the pillow you’re cuddling as he sets his precious baby laptop on the floor. “The twelfth and a half viewing is the best, I promise.”

“Somehow I highly doubt that.”

By the time Ray is crunched under Dr. Facilier’s boot, you’re sniffling (this part always gets you) and also curled up next to Kyoya. His arm is thrown lazily around you, and you have to resist the urge to reach up and tangle your fingers together. No sense in making it weird- the two of you have been close, including physically, since you were kids. You even share his bed during sleepovers half the time. But it always remains platonic. You’ve given Kyoya plenty of time to make a move, and he never has- which means he doesn’t think of you that way at all. So you’re content, if a little sad, to keep the closeness between you free of anything romantic.

“Knock knock, I’m coming in. If you’re doing anything unseemly I suggest you stop now.” Kyoya’s brother Yuuichi cracks open the door to the den you and Kyoya are currently occupying.

Though you can’t see his face, you know Kyoya is rolling his eyes, and you scrunch up your nose playfully at the newcomer. “Hi, Yuuichi.”

“Y/N.” Yuuichi nods his head at you. “Will you be staying for dinner? Father already told the maids to set an extra place.”

“Did you just insinuate I might miss the two of you arguing about business-whatever?” You put a hand to your chest in mock-surprise. “You wound me.”

“I thought so.” His voice is warm. “The food will be ready within the hour.” He pauses as he studies the images on the screen. “The Princess and the Frog? Again?”

“It’s a masterpiece!” You and Kyoya both say, as in sync as the Hitachiin twins, though the enthusiasm is on completely different levels.

Yuuichi shakes his head as he leaves the door ajar, and you turn your attention back to the film. Though you keep up a consistent string of commentary, Kyoya is noticeably silent. “Hey. Something wrong?”

“I- no. It’s nothing.”

Well you’re certainly not going to let that one go. You shift away so that you can face him, and give his shoulder a poke. “C’mon. Out with it.”

“My family likes you.”

“Well, yeah. What’s not to like?”

Kyoya looks sideways at you with a hurt look on his face. “Y/N, you know what I mean. My family doesn’t even like me.”

“Oh, Ky.” You brush a piece of hair out of his eyes. “They love you, I know they do, they just…” you wince a little. “…have an interesting way of showing it.” The two of you sit for a moment in the dark room, credits rolling on screen. Your hand lingers where it tucked his hair behind his ear. If you were brave enough, this would be the moment where you’d lean in and kiss him, just once, so he’d know that even though he’s never enough for his family he’s more than enough for you.

But you’re a coward, so you let your hand fall away and tug him off the couch instead. “C’mon, I’m starving. And I’ll even let you tell me all the ways your father and brother are messing up the company after we’re done eating.”

The smile that ticks onto his lips almost makes you sign in relief. “You know me too well.”

“It’s a gift.”

…

Dinner with the entire Ootori family is always an interesting affair. Whereas you’re used to just quietly raiding the fridge with Kyoya and taking your spoils back to his room, a proper supper is a very formal event. The dining room is laid out with china and utensils that most likely cost more than your house, and there’s enough food to feed their private army, much less the five of you. Plus, you never know what sort of mood Yoshio will be in. Luckily, Kyoya’s observation was a bit of an understatement- his family doesn’t just like you, they love you. You’re usually able to diffuse whatever tension is at the table with a joke or a story and get Kyoya out alive and without bursting a blood vessel before the dishes are cleared. Prepping something mildly witty in your head that will hopefully put Yoshio in a good mood, you wander the hallways, in no rush to get to dinner. Kyoya stepped away to answer a call from Tamaki- you hadn’t heard anything but incoherent shrieking on the other end so loud it made him pull the phone away from his ear. You shake your head- hopefully Kyoya can talk him down within the next ten minutes, or else you’ll be facing the family alone.

In your contemplating, you walk right into someone’s side, almost knocking the two of you over. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry- Fuyumi!”

Kyoya’s sister turns, and her face immediately brightens when she sees you. “Y/N!” The both of you crash together into a hug, giggling like school girls. How are you, imouto? It’s been so long!”

You laugh and straighten her hair from where your hug mussed it up. After Kyoya, Fuyumi is probably your second favorite person in the world. You’ve spent plenty of nights painting each other’s nails and gossiping when Kyoya burying himself in his work and being too much of a git to hang out with you.  “We called just last week!”

“My statement stands,” she says with a wink. “Are you staying for dinner? We have so much to catch up on!” You nod in affirmation and she grins. “Good.” She slips her arm through yours and locks the two of you side by side. “So, what have I missed?”

You sigh and shrug a shoulder. “Not much, really. School is fine, the boys are crazy as usual. Hikaru and Kaoru are fighting over god knows what and actually dyed their hair different colors to differentiate themselves.”

“Hm.” There’s a twinkle in her eye. “And how are things with Kyoya?”

“Fuyumi!” You frantically glance over your shoulder, making sure no one is around to hear the two of you. “Hush, seriously!” You’d been forced to confess your burgeoning crush when she’d called you out for acting weird a few months ago. She made it abundantly clear she approved of the idea, and has subtly been trying to nudge the two of you together ever since, much to your dismay. “Everything is fine how it is, thank you very much.”

“If you say so,” she says in a singsong way, pulling open the door to the dining room. “Oh, you two would just be so cute together-”

“MR. OOTORI!” You practically scream, effectively overshadowing Fuyumi’s words. “Thanks for inviting me to dinner!” You shoot the other girl a death glare before putting a nice face on for Kyoya’s father. “It’s very kind of you.”

“Of course, of course, it’s no trouble at all.” He smiles at you warmly before extending a hand for you to shake. “Anything for our dear Y/N. How are you? Keeping up with your studies?”

You chat with him pleasantly as everyone else filters into the room. Fuyumi takes a seat to your right, leaving the chair next to you but farthest from Yoshio for Kyoya. Yuuichi is already seated next to his father, tapping something on his phone, and finally Akito filters in, a medical journal tucked under his arm. He waves at you, and you give a salute back.

“Did Kyoya abandon you again?” Akito sits primly on the edge of his chair across from you. “Honestly, I don’t know why you stick around with him like you do.”

Internally, you sigh. You like Akito well enough, but he’s always ragging on his brother, and it grates your nerves like nothing else. “No, he’s just talking Tamaki down from some harebrained scheme.”

The boy harrumphs in disapproval. “That club will be the death of him. He should be focusing on his studies.”

“He does! He’s top of our class for heaven’s sake. If anything, I think the host club keeps him sane most of the time.” Out of the corner of your eye, you keep track of Yoshio and Yuuichi’s conversation, hoping they’re too busy to notice Akito’s topic of choice. If his father starts railing on him as well, there’s no stopping it, and Kyoya doesn’t need to walk into a room where everyone is discussing him.

Luckily, the conversation dies down when Kyoya tugs open the door and slips though. “My apologies for being late, everyone. I had some business to take care of.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, before anyone else can argue. “We just started.” You pat the chair next to you and he gives you a grateful look before sliding into his seat.

Thankfully, dinner proceeds fairly mundanely. You and Fuyumi chat about girl stuff, with Kyoya chiming in every so often in between texting the host club group chat under the table. You nudge his leg with your knee whenever his father or brother asks him a question so it looks like he’s paying attention, and Akito thankfully goes back to his reading.

“Well, another excellent meal!” Yuuichi folds his napkin delicately and places it next to his plate. “I’m afraid I have to run soon, but first, I have something of an announcement to make.”

You glance at Kyoya, who looks just as confused as you are. No one else seems to know what’s happening either, except for Yoshio, who sits back in his chair expectantly with a pleased look on his face.

Then, Yuuichi turns to you.

“Y/N, you have been a treasured family friend for years now, and I have had the distinct pleasure of watching you grow into a lovely and witty young woman. And I must say, if I may, that I have found myself quite taken with you over the past year.” He pauses to take a sip from his glass of wine, seemingly considering his next words. “After much consideration… Y/N, would you do me the honor of accompanying me out next Saturday night?”

Throughout his mini-speech, you’ve been staring blankly at him with an affable smile on your face, not really taking in his words. It isn’t until Yuuichi looks at you with a confident, hopeful smile that his intent sinks in.

For a few long moments, it feels as though everything has frozen in place.

Yoshio is looking on like he’s already envisioning you walking down the aisle. Akito seems surprised, his thumb paused over the next page of his book. Fuyumi’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and you catch her gaze with an absolutely frantic look.

And Kyoya goes… cold.

It takes a second for you to realize that everyone is staring at you expectantly, and you brighten your voice, trying to shake off the heavy coat of fear that has just been draped over your shoulders. “Oh, Yuuichi, that’s… wow, that’s so unexpected-”

“I know it must seem sudden.” He gives a gentle shrug. “But I found myself unable to wait any longer.”

“What an excellent idea!” Yoshio beams at the small gathering, placing one hand over his son’s in an encouraging gesture. Simultaneously, your hand is latched onto Fuyumi’s knee under the table, trying to steady yourself. “What a beautiful couple the two of you will make! Don’t you believe so, Akito, Fuyumi?”

Akito murmurs his assent, but Fuyumi stutters as your grip tightens. “Um, yes, well.. I suppose it is up to Y/N, isn’t it?” She finds your fingers under the tablecloth and gently squeezes back, as though she’s saying sorry she can’t help you out.

What do you do?

Yuuichi’s declaration is not something said lightly. If you accept, you’re basically agreeing to a marriage. Sure, not right away, but a few years down the line… if you say yes, there’s no way you could ever break it off without severing the relations between your family and the Ootoris, which would be suicide. The media would be all over it; the business community would hound you for years. You can’t say no. You can’t.

And yet, you find yourself about to do exactly that. Because deep down, you know your heart belongs to Kyoya. And even though being cut off from him and his family will hurt like hell, it won’t hurt nearly as bad as watching him from afar for the rest of your life while you stand beside his brother.

“You should accept.” Kyoya’s calm voice shatters your thoughts like shards of ice. “I… what?”

“You should accept, of course.” He doesn’t move as he speaks, and his words are as emotionless as a smooth lake on a clear day. “It is a generous proposal, one that would benefit both of our families.” He pauses for the span of a breath. Two. “And, from what I’ve seen, you do not have any other propositions coming, yes?”

Your heart stills.

He doesn’t mean that.

Does he?

All these years of being attached at the hip… and these last few months, when you’ve desperately hoped that he might want something more… it all comes crashing down about your ears in a thunderous cacophony of heartbreak. If he’s so willing to see you given to his brother… you don’t mean anything to him, not really. He’s perfectly fine seeing you live your life so close, yet so far away. Something in you steels and hardens. Well then. If he’s fine with it, why shouldn’t you be?

Without looking at the boy next to you, you bow your head. “You’re right, of course.” You give Yuuichi a genuine smile that does nothing to lighten the dullness in your eyes. “I am flattered and honored, Yuuichi. Of course I will accompany you.”

“Excellent!” Yoshio waves for a butler, who emerges with a tray of something bubbly. “Such a happy occasion calls for a toast! To the new happy couple!”

Your fate is sealed in a matter of seconds. You watch your future flash before your eyes, and the chains of the accompanying life wrap around your wrists like vices.

Somewhere in your subconscious, you crystallize the part of your heart that belongs to Kyoya- his smile, his quick wit, the spark in his eyes as he laughs at your jokes- and shatter it, willing it to spread amongst the stars like fireflies in the night. No matter what happens, nobody will ever be able to claim they have all of your love. Some of it will live on, quietly, reminding you of what could have been every time you look at the sky.

“If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go tell my mother the good news.” Your voice is impressively even as you push your chair back and stand. “Please, enjoy yourselves. I will be back shortly.” Crystal glasses clink amongst themselves as you leave the room, shoulders straight and head held high.

The façade lasts as long as it takes you to hide amongst the cherry blossoms blooming in the back gardens of the Ootori’s mansion. As you press your back up against the trunk of a tree, tears begin to stream down your cheeks, and you shove the heels of your hands at your eyes, willing yourself to get it together. You only succeed in letting a sob escape from your chest and out into the night air. You stand there curled in on yourself, with only the whispering branches above you for comfort, as you let out muffled cries and wrap your arms around yourself in effort to keep yourself from falling apart completely.

Eventually, you find yourself laid back on the ground, head tucked amongst the roots of a cherry blossom, watching the stars waver between flowering branches. You’ve completely forgotten about your promise to rejoin the group- you’ve forgotten pretty much anything requiring conscious thought. Everything is just… numb. At least the breeze is warm as it dries the salt on your cheeks.

“Y/N? Are you out here?” Soft footsteps disturb pebbles somewhere behind you.

Quickly, you wipe your face and clear your throat. “Yeah, I’m here!” You make sure to keep your voice light. “Just got off the phone, sorry. Didn’t mean to keep everyone waiting.”

“Father sent me to find you. He says you have a lot to discuss…” Kyoya trails off, and shuffles a little closer to you. “Are you… okay?”

“Juuuuust peachy.” You can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice. “These are tears of happiness, you know? ‘Cause I’m just so… happy.”

“You’re… not happy?”

There’s genuine confusion in his voice, like he can’t believe you wouldn’t be thrilled with this sudden arrangement, and the anger that flares up in your chest at his words is enough to get you standing and facing him.

“Of course I’m not happy, you ass! Why would I ever…” Your voice breaks. “Never mind. I’ll go… talk to your father.”

You go to brush past him, almost shoulder-checking him on the way, but he catches your wrist before you can get far. “Wait. Why aren’t you happy? Tell me.”

“God, for someone so smart you are such an idiot!” You whip around, yanking your wrist from his grasp. “Maybe because I’m not, have never been, and never will be interested in your brother?! I mean, he’s nice enough, but…ugh!”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Kyoya’s voice rises, and you take a step back. It’s rare he actually raises his voice, much less shouts. “He’s perfect! He’s the firstborn son, he’s inheriting the company, he’ll get everything he ever wants-!”

“Because I like YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE ASS!” Mindlessly, you shove his shoulders, forcing him away from you. “I could care less about the freaking Ootori Group! They could drop off the face of the earth for all I care! I just want to watch stupid movies with you and fall asleep doing homework at 2AM and make up ridiculous themes for the host club and… but you don’t even care, I should have known…” you back up, tripping over roots you can’t see in the dark. “I just… I need to go. Tell everyone I’ll- I don’t know, make something up.”

Walking away from Kyoya in that moment is the most painful thing you’ve ever done. Whoever said confession makes the heart feel lighter clearly hasn’t ever been in love, because admitting your feelings to his face just makes you feel like death.

“Y/N.”

You sigh, trying to ignore even more tears threatening to escape. “What, Kyoya?” A gentle hand reaches up and brushes remnants of your breakdown from your cheek, causing your heart to flutter against your ribcage. “Wha-?”

“I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispers. “But hearing Yuuichi- it was just confirmation that it doesn’t matter what I want, what I feel- I could never have you. You’re too good to be wasted on me.”

“Ky, stop it. I mean it. You’re- you are exactly good for me; you’re so much more than enough. Just because your father is blind, deaf, and dumb doesn’t mean that your friends- that I- don’t see it.” You cover his hand with your own and let yourself be drawn closer to him. You’ve played with him in the ocean, cleaned his glasses for him when you got caught in the rain, even shared a bed- but in this moment, pouring your heart out in the hopes that he might finally get it… this is the closest you’ve ever been.

Somewhere in the background, amongst the trees and flowerbeds, fireflies blink into the night.

Moonlight glinting in his eyes; his gaze that still looks so hopelessly lost, you don’t know what else you could possibly do to convince him-

-except desperately press your lips to his. And, miracle of miracles, Kyoya kisses you back.

Behind the sweetness, and the hesitancy, there’s a fire and hunger that is so much more than you ever could have imagined. He tastes like champagne and cherry blossoms on the night air. He tastes like love. He tastes like a future.

After a moment- or a minute, or it could have been hours for all you can tell- the two of you are still in each other’s space, foreheads together, trying to catch your breath. Kyoya is studying you with an intensity you’ve never seen before, and the light brush of his fingertips along your cheekbones makes you shiver.

“Well. You don’t seem to have turned into a frog.”

It takes a second for your brain to come back online. Then a laugh burbles out of you, happy and pure. “Are you- are you serious right now?”

“Why, are you disappointed?” There’s a wry grin in his voice that you absolutely adore. You’d do anything and everything to keep that smile on his face.

“Not at all.” You brush your nose against his, scrunching it up just to make him laugh. “It just confirms you’re already my prince.”

“I think Tamaki might object to that.”

“Oh please, you’re three times the prince Tamaki will ever be. He’s just going to have to get over it.”

…

Across the garden, hidden amongst the shadows, Kyoya’s three siblings are simultaneously sighing in relief.

“Finally, Jesus. Took them long enough.” Akito stretches and gives a yawn. “Are we done here? I’m going to bed.” As he wanders off towards the house, Yuuichi and Fuyumi give each other a glance.

“That… didn’t quite go how we expected.”

Yuuichi snorts. “We should have known. When has Kyoya ever not subverted expectations?”

His sister shakes her head. “True enough. What will we tell father?”

“Oh, I’ll tell him in a week or so that the daughter of the Ito family approached me. Considering their family owns significant stakes in our leading rival’s company, I’m sure he won’t mind the change of heart.”

Fuyumi sighs, watching the two of you laugh together like you did when you were children. They still are, she reminds herself. Old enough to fall in love yet still young enough to feel everything that love brings. Yuuichi slings an arm around his sister’s shoulder and gives her a little squeeze. “We did good today, sis. How long do you think it would have taken them on their own?”

“Given that the only person that rivals Kyoya in stubbornness is Y/N? Never.”

“You read my mind.”

A/N: No clue why Princess and the Frog was stuck in my head for this fic, but I just decided to go with it 🤷🏻‍♀️

[smt-here]

Regression Progression

Pairing : Avengers × reader (platonic, Steve × reader)

Genre : canon, fluff

Warnings : some adorable shits probably and female pronoun for the reader

A/N : I got this idea whilst scrolling through marvel_holic's IG, there's a lot of adorable fanarts and I MELTED. Srsly guys, see for yourself. And I'm not ashamed to say that I cried more than twice from a fanart of baby thor and loki. Not ashamed at all. Contains NO SPOILER for Endgame of any sorts.

m.list

_______________

It was a regular afternoon in the Avenger's facility.

All is well, everyone had just gotten back from eating lunch together. Steve, Bucky, Tony, Bruce, Thor, and even Peter. Nat and Clint are both back in Clint's home, spending time with his kids and Laura.

As soon as they stepped into the premise of the living quarters, they all grouped up and split.

Upon walking to the building, Tony was greeted by his second assistant-who is having a flirty-ish kind of relationship with Steve- matching steps with his. He claimed the first assistant's job is to manage business matters and the second is for personal avengers-members-only matters, but he really just want the passive old man to date.

"Had a good lunch, Tony?" She asked, not even bothering to look up from her stark tablet.

"You know I do," Tony answered, "had a non fancy-schmancy lunch with everyone, it was a shame you weren't there. That shwarma place near the old building? The lady who owns the place still remembers us apparently, she-"

(Y/N) held a hand up at him, "that was a rhetorical question, I don't actually need any details" she chuckled.

That made Tony rolled his eyes.

"Anyways, Pepper called in earlier, she told me to remind you to take your vitamins and not to take your sleeping pills before 8 pm, she also needs you to confirm Vermont, and lastly, she also said something-that-I-do-not-wish-to-know-in-the-slightest-but-is-now-being-dragged-into-anyways about the prenup you ask her to sign?" (Y/N) raised both eyebrows at Tony who only shrugged his shoulders, "hey, I'm just being cautious"

Bruce then cuts in, "any update from Columbia? They're supposed to-" "called about an hour ago, they're expecting you to be there any time you can"

"That's great! Thanks!" He turned his head to Tony, "we'll continue our project later, I have to go now" he then ran off outside to get his car and off he went to where he was needed.

Once Bruce is out of sight, Tony piped back up, "that man is a child, bless his heart" (Y/N) rolled her eyes at that.

She then briefed him about several calls from the government (in which Tony said "put them on permanent hold, or if they insist, tell them they can suck my left little toe") and some updates from not-Nick-Fury.

"And lastly, I have to update the Captain, do you know wh-"

This time, Tony put his hand up in front of her, "main office building, your desk" then he continued with a sigh, "the man actually had the nerve to say that he needs you to teach him how to use snapchat again when his best friend is a genius" he then rolled his eyes before walking away, throwing a loud "GO GET'EM TIGER" as he walk away.

(Y/N) almost immediately sprinted to the main office building. And true to what Tony said, Steve was there, staring down at his phone before he looked up to see (Y/N) and smiled.

She immediately acted cool, walking oh-so-confidently towards Steve. "Were you waiting for me, soldier?" She asked as she put her stark tablet down on her desk and took a seat.

Steve followed suit, sitting down on the chair accross her with a grin, "figured you didn't had lunch, being Stark's assistant and all, dealing with his shenanigans must be time-consuming". He then put a doggy bag on top of her desk.

Out of curiosity, she took a peek inside only to find shawarma inside. The sweet gesture made (Y/N) want to kiss Steve at that spot, the man was being too adorable. Granted she doesn't really know what shawarma actually is but it's the thought that counts.

"Steve, you are seriously the sweetest, I owe you one" she said while smiling brightly like a fool. Well, actually the both of them are grinning like two lovestruck puppies.

Steve cleared his throat before slightly leaning in, "you can repay me by-"

His words were cut off my a loud explosive sound paired with a short yet harsh shake.

It took them both seconds from looking at each other to sprinting for dear life towards the living quarters.

But when they got there, the place were quiet. Everything seems to be in place as if nothing had happened.

"Do you think that was just an earthquake?" (Y/N) asked as they kept walking through the abnormally quiet hallway. "Not sure, it could be... But... I don't know, an earthquake seems too si-"

He was then stopped when (Y/N) grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. At first Steve was confused. But then his gaze followed her own and saw something he'd never expected to see.

Babies.

After a long pause, Steve broke the silence, "Oh no... Are those-" "yup" "in a-" "I think so"

If it wasn't because of a sudden cry, they'd probably still be rooted on their spot.

(Y/N) was the first to react. She immediately locate the source of the sound only to find a small brunette baby in Peter's blue flannel.

"Awww, aren't you the cutest little baby boy" she coos as she scooped him up into her arms and rocked him sideways to calm him down.

Steve on the other hand had found baby Tony. Baby Tony was on the desk, nipping on the handle of a screwdriver. He looked around and saw baby Thor was trying to pull the now-3-or-4-times-his-body-size Stormbreaker, and baby Bucky was on all fours, staring confusedly at his metal arm that is now laying cold on the floor.**

(Y/N) walked over to him with the now-calm baby Peter in her arms. "What do you think happened here?" Steve asked. (Y/N) looked at baby Tony, then the desk, and then at the fuming machine. "My guess is this machine is at fault" she said as she pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Though she was talking, Steve couldn't help but stare dumbly at how adorable she looks holding baby Peter in her arms, patting him on the back, rocking sideways, as the wheels in her head turns.

"-eve"

"Steve"

"Steve!"

That broke his daze. He blushed in embarassment, "y-yeah, sorry, I was- what is it?" He stuttered. (Y/N) nudged her head to the side, "please get Bucky, he's getting away" Steve looked to where she was nudging her head to and scrambled immediately to get Bucky before he crawled off even further.

Steve held little Bucky up to his face and cringed, "this is weird..." but then the little thing giggled as he tries to reach his chubby hands up to Steve's face which made Steve smiled fondly, "but damn it he's adorable"

(Y/N) sighed, "we have to do something about this..." Peter was in his own world, nibbling on (Y/N)'s shoulder, "God, this is beyond my pay grade" she said as she reached down to prevent Thor from cutting his own face with Stormbreaker.

Steve put Bucky next to Tony before taking his phone out, "I reckon Banner knows how to fix this" he dialed his number and waited for Bruce to pick up.

As he does so, (Y/N) had decided to get creative. She went to the living room to rearrange the couches to make a makeshift playpen. Steve helped putting each babies inside the playpen while FRIDAY kept trying to reach Bruce.

"Call unanswered, should we try someone else?" FRIDAY asked.

Steve rested his elbows on the countertop and sighed, "No, Banner is the only one who knows about this, we shouldn't inform anyone else..." he sighed, "But I don't know... (Y/N), what do you-"

And once again, for the second time that day, Steve found himself awestruck at the sight of (Y/N), baby Peter on her lap, laughing away happily as she make funny faces at him, baby Thor and Bucky leaning onto either of her side, one sucking on his own thumb and the other sucking on a spoon dipped in yogurt as they watch cartoon on the tv, Tony on the other hand was hitting the table with a spoon, pretending to be fixing or tinkering or something.

No one, he thought, would've been as pretty as her, being surrounded by babies like that. It warmed his old traditional heart.

He walked closer and sat himself right next to her, moving Bucky up on his lap who immediately snuggled closer due to his warm body heat.

(Y/N) realized that Steve had sat himself next to her, grinning. She chuckled sheepishly, "I love babies" she uttered, still kind of embarassed. "That's not something to be embarassed about" he reassured.

"So, how's trying to reach Bruce?" She asked as she repositioned Peter on her lap so he's sitting up and facing the tv. "No luck, maybe he's still doing his business matters? I don't know" he sighed, "but we're both stuck with..." he trailed off, looking at the helpless beings, "four babies and no experience".

That made (Y/N) rolled her eyes, "wow, what a sunshine" she said, scoffing at the end which earned her a raised eyebrow from Steve, "there's the two of us, plus Happy is on standby, and I DO have experience with babies" she smirked coyly.

Without missing a beat, she immediately ordered FRIDAY to contact Happy to tell him to buy things that they may need.

It took nearly an hour for Happy to arrive with three large bags in hand.

(Y/N) approached him with an annoyed look, "God, what took you so long? We asked you to go to the store, not Canada" (Y/N) took some of the bags and put it down onto the countertop. Then she took out the bottles and cartons of milk to heat.

"There weren't any baby bottles in the regular shop nearby, and there was traffic! It's New York for God's sake, a- what are those?" Happy stopped rambling once he saw Steve juggling two crying babies in his arms, while the others are playing on the floor. "(Y/N), please tell me you did not kidnap three babies and have Steve assist you, because I swear I want no part in this"

Steve stepped in and explained what happened to Happy who looked like he had just seen a ghost the second he realized his boss is now a baby.

"Okay, okay, okay... So how can I help? What do I need to do?" Happy asked, looking more calm than he originally was just a minute ago.

(Y/N) came back into the conversation, two bottles in hand. She took Peter from Steve's arms and gave him one bottle to feed Tony as she feed Peter.

"We need you to go to Columbia University, find Bruce, explain the situation, and get his ass here as soon as possible" she said sternly. Happy nodded and scurried off inmediately.

Once Happy's gone, (Y/N) went back to the couch to get comfortable while feeding Peter. Steve followed suit.

In a state of total confusion, Steve found himself oddly quite calm. It made no sense. There he was, feeding one of his best friend that had regressed into an infant with a bottle of milk while his crush is feeding his mentee. Oh and not to mention there's a baby that was born in 1917 that is also his childhood best friend and also one that is at least a millenium.

A regular person might have a stroke whilst trying to comprehend or even slightly process the situation. But not Steve. No.

The person next to him help himself feel safe. At home.

A chitauri fleet could be taking over at that moment and he'd take care of them like a walk in a park.

Peter had finished his meal and is now being helped burping. (Y/N) taps his back softly in the same spot repeatedly which is kind of ironic considering how she would literally drag Peter by his ears if she found him trying to prank her or help Tony destroy something in the compound.

All was adorable until Peter vomited out some of his milk onto (Y/N)'s blouse and it dribbled down onto the back of her pants.

Both Steve and (Y/N) gasped in unison. (Y/N) pulled Peter away from her body to look at him.

Honestly, Steve was kind of expecting her to get kind of mad. But her reaction had once again caught him off-guard.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, did you just threw up on me? You messy baby" she said as she reached to the coffee table on the side of the couch to grab some tissue to clean Peter's mouth, "the last time some guy threw up on me, I left him alone in a cab 20 minutes away from my apartment. You're lucky you're adorable" she grinned.

Steve put Tony down on the couch and grab Peter from (Y/N), "I got him, you go ahead and change into one of my shirts and briefs, you can just leave your clothes in my load, I'll wash them for you"

It was pointless to even try to argue with Steve. So (Y/N) only nodded and went to his room to change.

Steve on the other hand, was cleaning Peter's mouth and drops of milk on his shirt while simultaneously making sure Tony is not falling off.

Not long after, (Y/N) came back with his shirt that was so big, it reached her mid-thigh, concealing the briefs she borrowed completely. Her hair was tied neatly and it accentuates her features perfectly. And by all Gods there is, Steve almost had a nosebleed when he realized he wasn't dreaming.

She immediately positioned herself between Bucky and Thor on the floor, sitting cross-legged with her back comfortably rested on the couch and they almost immediately attached themselves to (Y/N). Both babies looked happy seeing her. Thor even had a huge grin that could split his face in half.

"Hey Steve," she turned her body a little to look at Steve, "how long do you think this is going to last?" Steve raised an eyebrow, "I don't really know, but I don't think this is like a cold that will just go away on its own... Why'd you ask?"

(Y/N) pouted a little that made Steve smiled softly at her.

She moved Bucky and Thor to sit on both sides of her thighs. Steve does the same, he moved to her right side with Tony and Peter on his thighs. This time (Y/N) reacted, she giggled at how completely dad-like he looked and it made her insides all soft and mushy.

"It's just that I like them better like this," she began while stroking Bucky's head softly, "their rowdiness and neediness are adorable unlike their adult forms" then she looked at Steve, "can we keep them all like this? Or at least let me keep baby Peter, I'm not supposed to, but he's my favorite out of them all" she giggled.

Steve was just about to tease her, but FRIDAY cut him off.

"Incoming call from Dr. Banner"

Both Steve and (Y/N)'s eyes widened.

"Answer" Steve said and merely seconds after, Bruce's long-awaited voice was heard, "hey guys, I heard about what's going on-"

Steve cut him off before he could continue, "Banner, how quickly can you come here? We don't know what happened but we need you to fix it as soon as possible, we can't keep the whole team like this"

Bruce sighed on the other line, "I'm sorry Steve, but I'm actually in the middle of a lecture and I still have an interview after this. It's actually about the project me and Tony has been working on, the machine that blew up, it's a mollecular altercation device to-"

"Bruce!" (Y/N) was the one who cut him off this time, annoyed at his prolonged explanation, "cut to the point please" "huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. So, I still need to be here until later, but I promise I'll come back as soon as I can and fix the machine. But there's a chance that you both might need to babysit until at least tomorrow"

Steve and (Y/N) didn't know how to reply to that.

They were both having mixed feelings about being burdened with babysitting the should-be adults. Not to mention, they're their friends, so it could get weird.

Somewhere along the silence, Bruce ended the call, saying that he's needed back, leaving the two by themselves.

This is going to be a long night.

_______________

Part 2 ??

[thewayofthetrashcompactor]

holding my last breath

Belated birthday gift for @mnemehoshiko !

Rating: T

Additional Tags: Secret Relationship, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Canon Compliant, Bars and Pubs, First Kiss

Summary: Ben and Rey need more time to talk than the Force bond allows them. Meeting up proves to be as much as a challenge as everything else between them these days.

---

"Meet me," he'd said, in the last seconds before the Force dropped the vision between them. He'd barely had time to give her the name of a city on a planet she'd never heard of before he disappeared.

Rey debates whether or not to go, but it's not really a choice. They need to talk, without relying on the Force's whims to give them the time to say everything that needs to be said. Like the rest of the Resistance, she's off on her own mission to try to get the resources they need to keep from falling apart. She'll rendezvous with Finn and Rose in a few days, but she has time for a detour. Instead of the planet she's meant to go to next, she sets her coordinates for the outer rim.

She enters the cantina and immediately spots Ben in a corner near the bar, despite his efforts to blend in. She can't say if it's a part of their connection, that she's so attuned to him -- even in the jumble of signatures in the cantina, his stands out, burning like a banked fire just waiting to flare -- or if it's just his inability to truly blend in anywhere. Even in the low light where creatures from a dozen different planets regard each other warily, something about the dark-haired humanoid hunched over his untouched mug, as if he can hide how tall and broad he is, screams that he doesn't belong.

She hunches a bit herself as she steps inside, echoing the subtle defeat shown by most of the other patrons, the kind of thing that has led then to drink during daylight in a city little more than a fuel stop. Her hold on her staff stays tight, but not too tight, not a grip that'll say she's expecting trouble. Her hands itch to touch her lightsaber, but she knows better than that. The desperate people who spend their days here will be looking for any hint of valuables that could buy them their way out. She knows that too well, much better than Ben, whose hand drifts down to his belt as she approaches him from the side.

She sits next to him, and his gaze locks on her from under his dark hood. Not black, thankfully, but the scraps he's put together in a vague attempt at a trader's robes don't get any lighter than a deep brown. She restrains herself from rolling her eyes even as her heart pounds faster. She gives him a subtle nod. The bartender ambles over and asks pointedly what she'll be drinking, and she pays them too many credits for a mug of the local grog, likely the same swill Ben's avoiding. The presumed owner of the place is a species she doesn't recognize, something short but with enough tentacles to reach above the bar, and their eyes flick suspiciously between her and Ben before deciding they don't care enough to bother. A pointed glare with narrowed eyes tells her not to make trouble in their bar before they go back to where they'd been leaning against the bar near another patron.

Ben sighs, a shuddering sound, and his hand slides from his mug to splay across the bar, closer to her. She doesn't know if the gesture is meant for her, but she rests her hand closer, until their fingers touch. Ben's breath leaves him in a rush and he stares pleadingly at her. They need to find somewhere more private. A low buzz of voices and glasses fills the background of the cantina, but not enough to cover what they have to say. She glances around, trying to keep the movement subtle. Maybe her time is the Resistance has made her paranoid, but she feels the eyes of too many others on them. Her mind flashes back to Takodana and how quickly they were found there and her heart skips a beat.

She looks around again while pretending to take a sip of her drink. Even the press of it against her lips burns. Besides the entrance from the street, the cantina has a couple other openings along its walls, likely to the bathrooms and some other small spaces. She spots a  likely looking doorway near the bar, hopefully to some storeroom, and she sets her sights there. She drops her mug back to the bar, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then slides off her seat. She passes behind Ben, swaying close enough to whisper, "Wait, then follow," then disappears down the short hallway.

The light from the main room barely reaches the end of the hall, where a single door waits. It's barely enough to conceal them, but the other option is dragging him back to her ship, and she can't see him being too keen on that. And she's not boarding his again. A few moments pass, and Ben slinks in after her, looking as hulking and suspicious as ever. He stands in front of her, hands fidgeting by his sides, face obscured by his makeshift hood. She reaches up and pushes it away, savoring the brush of his soft hair against her fingers and revealing the planes of his face, still cast half in shadow. She can make out the faded line of her brand across his cheek and has to keep herself from tracing it.

"Rey," he says, voice low. She swallows, willing her heart to settle. She can't let herself forget why they're here.

"Ben," she replies. A slight shudder runs through him and he sways closer. Her hand lands on his chest, not pushing but present. "We don't have much time."

He nods. "The First Order --" he starts, but the words barely leave him before her ears pick up on another noise. Not quite footsteps, but a sort of slick squelching across the floor, growing closer. She looks up at Ben, eyes wide. "The bartender," she whispers.

"Kriff." His hand goes to his waist and his saber, but she drags him in the other direction, to the door. She presses a hand next to the door and unlocks it with a quick pressure from the Force, a technique that feels second nature for her. She pulls Ben inside with her and shuts the door behind them, locking it again. Maybe it's just her paranoia, and the bartender is just passing by. Maybe he's not interested in squeezing some quick credits from the more-suspicious-than-usual humanoids who decided to stop by his cantina. She nearly snorts out loud at that one.

She barely dares to breathe as the sound of the creature moving across the floor keeps getting closer. What other reason would he have for coming this was than for the closet they're hiding in? Ben has his saber in his hand now, eyes fixed on the door as he presses tightly to her back and side. She knows the pair of them could take care of some backwater bartender in no time at all, but she'd prefer not to kill some stranger for trying to live their life out here.

Her mind races as she tries to come up with a reasonable distraction for why the two of them are shoved into a closet, and her thoughts stick on couples she'd seen in Niima, wedged into all kinds of obscure corners for a chance at semi-privacy. She tries to come up with another solution, anything else, but her mind seems to have stuck on that one combined with the warm, firm press of Ben's body behind her. The squishing noises have nearly reached the door now, and she wriggles enough to turn around in the tight space.

Ben nearly chokes. "What are you --" he starts, but she doesn't let him finish.

"Do you trust me?" she whispers fiercely, eyes searching for his in the dark.

Only the light from around the door illuminates his face, but his expression shows clearly his shock that she'd even have to ask. "Always," he breathes. Something lurches forward just on the other side of the door. She thinks she can hear a tentacle reaching out, and she grabs the cowl around his neck and pulls him down to her, smashing her lips against his.

He doesn't breathe at first, and she wonders if he's going to pass out. That might work too, if the bartender sees her tending to his unconscious body. Probably not the first time they've dealt with that. But that stands a decent chance of getting whatever passes for law around here called on them, so she clutches Ben tighter to her and wills him to stay upright. She slips her fingers under his cowl and strokes his neck, lets her thumbs brush along his jaw in what she hopes is a comforting gesture.

It works; his lips go from frozen against hers to gliding tentatively along them and his breath gusts against her cheek. She pushes onto her toes for a better angle, nudging her mouth further into his, ready to take more. His hands drift from his side to her waist, hovering at first, before she presses her body more fully into his. His heat is almost too much in this cramped space, but she welcomes it, feeling a thrill run through her when his hands clamp onto her hips, holding her to him.

She claims him just as thoroughly, sliding one hand into his hair to tangle in it, soft strands wrapped around her fingers. She opens her lips against his, eager to know what he tastes like. Her tongue sweeps out: salt and caf. He groans and her mouth curves against his. She sucks, pulling his lip between hers, teeth scraping against it. Ben's fingers tighten, grabbing at her through her layers. A thrill runs through her, and she does it again.

Her entire mind fills with nothing but Ben, eager and desperate against her, like if she lets go, it'll all be a dream. She breathes in the sweat and leather scent of him, underlain by a clean soapy spice; even in rags, the prince is never far away. Her chest presses closer, easing the ache that says she's not ready to part from him either. This is so much more than the brush of their hands in the darkness across worlds; she has him clutched to her now, and her scavenger instincts don't easily let go of what's hers.

When the door opens, casting weak light across them, and a wet squeal pierces her ears, she nearly snarls, shoving Ben behind her like some salvage she has to defend. Ben's lips part from hers with a gasp, and the tentacled bartender stares at them, limbs flailing as it squeals again. She doesn't speak the language, but it's not hard to tell that their welcome has run out. She glares at them, and they narrow their eyes back.

"Out!" they say in Basic

With her chin held high and a smirk on her lips, she grabs Ben's hand and stalks down the hallway and then out of the bar. The afternoon sun glares down at them in the street. Ben walks beside her, long legs keeping her swift pace, large hand wrapped around hers.

"Where are we going?" he asks, tilting his head down towards hers.

She turns her smirk up to him. "Somewhere private."

[dirgeofcerberus111]

White Diamond Momswap AU

So this post was heavily inspired by @aramiplusart‘s diamond switch post, as well as a lot of WD momswap going around recently, me and some of my friends got creative and made this. This is backstory outline for a Momswap AU where White Diamond was the one that rebelled. 

Okay, hear me out.

White Diamond always stood apart from her fellow Diamonds in many ways, one of them being her incredibly long view of things. She often thought so far ahead in regards to the future that her motives and reasoning seemed alien to others. 

She would sometimes “test” the other Diamonds, often without their knowledge. Arranging various trials to gauge their response and competency in handling situations without her guidance. Her goal in this was to slowly guide them into making the right choices on their own rather than relying on her, to help to establish and build confidence in themselves as leaders to better tackle any crises that might arise. Possibly, even teach them that they can also depend on each other. She was aware that Pink felt that Yellow and Blue did not care about her, but rather than intervene directly, tried to arrange situations that would bring them together.

However, in her attempts to guide and mentor them, she was actually causing a lot of damage to them. She had too high expectations and too little communication. Like in canon, the damage caused by a lack of communication is a running theme.

As time went on, White began to notice the cracks forming in their society. Their empire was spreading itself too thin and the heavy handedness of their authority was slowly fostering discontent among the lower classes. White had seen this all before, and knew it was only a matter of time before another rebellion ignited.

Throughout the history of the empire, there had been a mysterious Gem calling herself “Moonstone” that would routinely show up, stir up trouble on the outer edges of the empire, and then vanish without a trace. The Diamonds had never been able to capture or shatter her, so she has remained at large, a thorn in their side for untold ages.

Never one to clearly explain her expectations and plans, it was in fact White Diamond herself who would take up the alias of Moonstone. Her Moonstone persona was a useful tool in keeping the other Diamonds on their toes and ensuring that they do not grow complacent. Moonstone’s “rebellions” would end in failure, all the rogue elements on a colony that had gathered under one flag were eliminated, the conflicts kept under control, and rest of the population kept in line.

Rather than address them directly herself, it was White’s intention to draw attention to the cracks that were forming in society by forcing the issue to the surface, and helping the younger Diamonds recognize their faults and learn from it. Rather than simply tell them, it was her style to guide them along the correct path and help them realize lessons for themselves. She did not yet realize that it was the entire system that was at fault here, but did recognize that the Diamond’s personal faults were the source of much tension in the empire.

So, cut to the colonization of Earth, Pink Diamond is sitting up in her moon base bored when she gets excited when the first batch of Amethysts start to emerge, and Pearl accidentally encourages her to go down there as a Quartz to see them for herself. But when "Rose Quartz" and Pearl warp into the Kindergarten, nobody notices them. In fact, nobody is around at all. They look around, and hear off in the distance what sounds like a charismatic speech being given to an excited crowd. Rose and Pearl find that all of the Amethysts are crowded around enraptured by this strange new Gem. Pink has never seen or even heard of anything like her: tall, brilliantly white, with a gemstone set into her forehead. She's telling the gathered Quartz soldiers that they don't have to listen to the Diamonds! They can live the lives that they choose, they just need to gather their courage and take their freedom for themselves!

On one hand, the strange Gem’s words resonate with Pink, who has of course never been entirely comfortable with her station as a Diamond. On the other hand, this bitch is ruining her first colony! "Rose" steps up and tries to defend the honor of the Diamonds, arguing that the Diamonds aren’t all bad and pointing out how all Gems owe their existence to them. Its the usual Homeworld rhetoric, but its all half-hearted since she's not even sure she believes what she's saying, so naturally what she says lacks conviction.

The white Gem laughs off Rose's arguments, easily refuting and meticulously dismantling her every argument, much to her chagrin. When Rose suggests that she was very confident that Pink Diamond would be open to reason, Moonstone really begins to lay into the anti-Diamond rhetoric. She begins to go off about how inexperienced Pink is, how quick she was to throw a tantrum, how spoiled she truly was, how she had to beg and whine to the other Diamonds just to get her own colony. Many awful and disparaging things that White would later deeply regret saying in front of Pink.

Rose/Pink gets more and more embarrassed until she finally loses her temper and rushes in to attack. But Rose has no combat experience and in a blind rage, so the white Gem easily rebuffs her attack and leaves her defeated and humiliated.

Meanwhile Moon/White is wondering to herself why this random, pink-colored Quartz is taking all this so personally. Then she sees the Pearl who had come with them and recognizes her. Her eyes widen as she puts two and two together and realizes what she’s done. But she can’t say anything now, if she did her entire cover would be blown and this would all be for nothing. She could fix this all later.

So instead of poofing her, the white Gem asks Rose to deliver a message to her Diamond like a good little Quartz: Moonstone is on Earth.

When Pink finally gets back to her base, she's initially too embarrassed to tell Yellow and Blue what happened. Of course Pearl can’t say anything due to the Pearl Orders. But soon enough they figure out something's off and it doesn't take much for them to finally get Pink to tell them what happened. Once they hear the word “Moonstone”, they are immediately on the alert. Yellow and Blue promise to help Pink deal with Moonstone, because they both know that if she’s here, then conflict was imminent. And perhaps this time, with all three of them working together, maybe they'll finally be able to put an end to Moonstone.

However, to intricate matters, Moonstone began to fall in love with the Earth. As you do. At first, her rebellion was not at all for the sake of freeing Gems, but she managed to form genuine bonds with these ones. She starts to see the beauty of organic life, something she might have been able to do once in the past, eons ago, but it's a feeling that had long ago atrophied. Or so she thought. Also, like in canon, the nature of Garnet is something of a revelation for her. There has never been a fusion like that in all of Gem history, or if there has been, they had wisely kept themselves hidden from White Diamond's attention. The mask had become the face.

Which all means that White is now faced with a dilemma. She never originally intended to actually stop the colony. It was Pink's first after all. This was all supposed to be a surmountable challenge for her and to solidify her place in the Authority.

But White no longer wants the Earth to be destroyed, nor does she actually want to fight and possibly harm her fellow Diamonds.

So eventually she comes up with a plan. To save the Earth but spare Pink from humiliation, Moonstone has to deal such a devastating blow against Homeworld that the Diamonds can't possibly blame Pink for the colony's failure. White knows how stubborn they all are, so it would have to be something BIG. Something that would make Yellow and Blue see without a shadow of a doubt that none of them had a chance at winning this war and abandon the colony.

Something like say...the shattering of White Diamond?

And that's exactly what she does. She arranges the fake shattering of White Diamond, publically, in full view of Yellow, Blue, and Pink in the hopes that that will be a great enough show of force to scare them away from the planet and spare it from colonization.

Of course, White didn't plan on staying on Earth forever. After a thousand years or two of laying low, White Diamond would suddenly return after making a miraculous recovery, perhaps with the “shards” of Moonstone in hand and a convincing coverstory to complete the deception. Then everything would go back to normal.

But we all know how well that went.

Instead of having the intended effect, the surviving Diamonds planted the Cluster, corrupted nearly every Gem on the planet, save for what few that White was able to protect, and then flew off back to Homeworld to NOT healthy cope with their grief at the loss of their mentor and leader.

White had grieviously miscalculated. She had thought that the other three Diamonds were ready to function without her and they were NOT. Now the Diamonds are running around without their leader and are completely lost in their own ways. White’s guilt was her failure as a mentor and essentially as a parent.

Her actions have serious reprocussions for everyone. Yellow and Blue are now more overworked than ever trying to manage all of White’s former colonies on top of their own, and Pink has had her confidence severely undermined. Earth was supposed to be her time to shine and it ended in catastrophy. Because she never got a chance to grow as Rose Quartz, she was never given the chance to discover her healing powers. She feels like the others will never be trusted with a colony again and that Yellow and Blue blame her for White’s “death”. So she remains on the Zoo with her remaining Gems and Court, the Zoo basically being a doll house for Pink: her own little mini-Earth where she can play colony while Blue and Yellow do the real work.

However in truth, this is not the case at all. Because unlike in canon, Pink was wholeheartedly trying to put down Moonstone. Even if it ended in failure, she did in fact earn some respect from Yellow and Blue. In canon the whole reason why Pink kept "making excuses" for why her colony wasn't going well and was failing to crush the rebels was because she secretly wanted the rebellion to win.

They would give her more responsibility, if she just asked. All of them tried to stop Moonstone and failed, so they don’t blame her. But Blue thinks the whole Earth experience traumatized Pink and so assumes that she doesn’t want to run a colony anymore. Yellow of course is too busy to ask either way. And neither of them stop to wonder if leaving Pink by herself after all this might be unhealthy. Once again, lack of communication and assumptions rears it’s ugly head. Because if there's one thing Diamonds are bad at, it's sharing their feelings. So all three of them box themselves off to grieve in their own different ways

And from there on, things go pretty much the same way as they did in canon up until Steven is born: Moonstone, Garnet and White Pearl go around bubbling corrupted gems, find Amethyst in the Prime Kindergarten, and eventual settle down in Beach City, where 5,000 years after the war ended, Moonstone meets a very special human...

More details on Moonstone:

Her symbol is a moon instead of a star. As well as the emblem of the Crystal Gems. Her summoned weapon is a crescent-shaped shield, following the theory that all the Diamonds can summon shields of different kinds. Her physical weapon is a lunar-themed spear, made by Bismuth.

Moonstone’s gemstone has its pentagon facing downwards as opposed to Rose’s which points upward.

Right then hope you enjoyed!

Co-conspirators: @directorhachi, @casual-dark, @nobrandminda,

People who also made Momswaps and thought they’d be interested: @aramiplusart, @artifiziell, @thechekhov

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well- - 4

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, character deaths, PTSD Gabriel, follows canon 13x18 on.

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 4.7k

Chapter 5

Masterlist

If anyone wants a tag, shoot me an ask :), I also can’t link the older chapters or master list without tumblr not letting this be found in searches, let m know if you need 1-3! It’s on Ao3 as well.

Screams echoed through the barren, cold walls. The stone was freezing beneath his feet, eyes blind in the pitch black of the cell he’d called home for years now. Three years to be exact. He winced from the sting of the thread holding his lips together as he shifted his mouth, running through the wounds as if they were the eye of a needle, the freshly formed bruise on his cheekbone aching through the movement. When would this end? Never. It would never end. “Gabriel,” the gravelly Southern voice of Asmodeus sang out from the dark, “come on out boy, I need a pick me up.” His heart began to race, thudding against his ribs as the echoing footsteps got closer and closer. He had nothing left to give, what more could he want? “Gabriel, don’t make me come in there.” The angel whimpered pathetically as he slid out from the corner, unable to rise to his feet. Pain shot through his arms as his palms planted into the scabrous floor, almost giving out as he bore his weight down. Slowly, he dragged his limp body to the barred door that contained him, seeing now the faint blur of white waiting to greet him. He could feel the darkness emanating off of it, along with his own powers, his grace singing to him even from inside the demon, begging to be released. “There you are.” Agony seared through his scalp as fingers wound into the blood matted hair on his head, pulling him upright onto his knees, opening his neck to a position of complete vulnerability; to complete submission. He’d been practically numbed to the burn of the needle piercing the yellow and purple welted skin of his neck, the ominous chuckle of his captor always followed, demeaning the fading angel further and further every time. He was reduced to nothing. “I paid your dearly beloved a little visit today,” Asmodeus taunted as he injected the swirling silver remnants he’d drawn out into his forearm, a sinister smile plastered on his scarred face. Gabriel felt an emotion surge through him for the first time in a long time—fury. His hands shot to the bars, shaking the rusted iron on it’s hinges. He felt power wash through him, what few ounces of grace he still had revving to life and pushing forward. The string on his lips loosening as he finally began to tear through the fibers as an angry roar broke free from his chest. “Careful now,” Asmodeus warned as he crouched, coming face to face with the rage-filled eyes of his prisoner, “You’ve been good, and I’m a man of my word. But one toe out of line and with great pleasure I’ll ensure she’s…” Slowly, the demon dragged his finger across his throat, tilting his head to one side, grinning from ear to ear…  “No!” Gabriel screamed, shooting upright, throwing the warm, weighted object from his chest off and onto the bed. Sweat was pouring from his face, body trembling as he attempted to identify his surroundings. Moonlight was faintly shining in from a window and he was sitting on something soft and warm. This didn’t feel like hell, but that was always what Asmodeus had wanted Gabriel to think... “Hey… hey,” a frantic, sleepy voice sounded from beside him. Instinctively, and still half asleep, Liv reached for him, wanting to comfort him, reassure him. Her brain still wasn’t working right, exhaustion clogging every one of her senses. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than two hours. Her fingers came to his arms, only to immediately be batted away, the impact of his flailing, defensive hands stinging where they landed. Trying not to react, worried it would only derail him further, she bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing the surprised little yelp that threatened to sneak out, pulling her arms back in close to her chest. His head began whipping from side to side, as if he was unfamiliar, misplaced, a trail of incomprehensible mutters falling from his lips. “Gabriel!” Liv called sharply, causing his terrified eyes to shoot in her direction as she leaned to her left to turn on the bedside lamp. The prior days events began trickling back as he looked at her, sleep tousled and panicked, “Liv?” “You’re okay, I’m here.” “Fuck…” Tears pricked at his eyes as shame came flooding through his mind, replacing his terror. Still broken, still useless, and unable to distinguish reality from nightmares. This was what he’d been reduced to. He turned and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his chin tucked deeply into his chest. He should have known, remembered, but he was still ruled by fear. He was still a prisoner. Slowly, she crawled over to the huddled man perched with his back to her, careful not to move too quickly, to keep from shocking him even further. Her heart hurt for him, what momentary happiness they had found was seemingly a ruse, a false sense of normalcy. Her soul cried out to the absent powers above to please help him, but there was no one, there would always be no one. Warm arms gently circled around his middle, strong and present. As her chest pressed against his back and her cheek gently came to rest against the nape of his neck, he pinched his eyes shut. This was real. She was real. The calm pounding against the wall of anxiety in his chest begging to run free was real. Asmodeus was gone, dead, burned to ash at his own hand, but that hadn’t erased the damage or fixed his shattered identity. He tried to anchor himself to the way she felt molded against him, her position comforting, yet guarding. The way her bare skin felt on his was euphoric, his nerves singing in relief as she sat perfectly still, holding him as he worked through his racing thoughts. This was real. Finally he responded, unsure of how much time had passed. Gently, he ran his hand across her arms around his stomach, stopping and entwining his fingers with hers when they met, hers immediately responding with a reassuring squeeze. She was afraid to push him, unsure of what images were flashing behind his tightly closed eyes. Wishing there was a way to transfer his pain to her, she nuzzled her nose into the hair behind his ears. Whatever he needed, she would be. As hard as it had seemed to again surrender herself to another person, sitting here with him was effortless.  He sighed as he leaned back into her embrace, shifting to the side slightly to give his lips access to her temple, planting a lingering kiss. Confident now that he at least knew who she was, and where he was, she lifted her head and rested her chin over his shoulder. “Better?” she cooed softly, remembering the similar way their roles had been reversed the day before. “No,” he answered, leaning his forehead against hers. “Not yet,” she promised, and she meant it.

She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, tightening her grip around his waist. He responded with a muffled groan, melting into her. The key to healing was here, but there was still one more step to take, one more wrong to right. They’d never be safe until the final name on the list had been crossed off, and Asmodeus had only been the first. He would never rest until revenge had been drawn out in blood, he couldn’t. Loki had started it, and Gabriel would end it. As she laid herself back into the blankets, he followed her every motion, curling up behind her as she turned to her side, clicking the light back off. He read the red numbers illuminated on the nightstand clock, 1:27. This poor woman was exhausted, he could feel it. Her heart rate was rapid, still reeling from the adrenaline surge from his abrupt panicked episode, and he could feel her stomach growling under his arm. He was positive she was feeling absolutely miserable, and it was at his expense. He’d always destroyed her little by little, why would this time around be any different? He should have walked away when he had the chance; he should have never started, he was a curse. “Talk to me,” Liv mumbled, half asleep, but still noticing the way his body was tensing around her. “No,” he answered, quickly and cold. He didn’t want to talk about, he didn’t even want to think about it. There was no corner deep enough for him to shove everything floating around in his head, and he certainly wasn’t about to welcome it. Her heart sank as he closed himself off, but tomorrow was a new day, a fresh start, and she intended to turn over a new page. Her life of lurching from indecision to indecision, fight to fight needed to end. She was tired, spent, and ready to hold onto the man wrapped around her as if life itself depended on it. As she drifted off to sleep, her typical fantasies played over in her head, as they did every night. Except this time she felt one step closer than she ever thought she would. It felt like three days had passed. When she woke, the sun was filtering in through the sheer, white curtains, the light bouncing off the bright walls. The bed was warm, almost too warm; this was how a bed felt in a home. Not that she really could remember what a home even felt like, it had been eighteen years since she’d called anything but that old car home. The sheets were soft, the faint scent of fabric softener still evident on the quilt she was buried in. A warm hand was resting on her thigh, still and comforting. “Morning sweetheart,” the bed’s other occupant greeted groggily, turning to their side and pressing their chest against her back, an arm lazily draping around her middle. Gabriel. Home. She really was home. “Were you, actually asleep?” She asked, shimmying deeper into him, curling her fingers into his. “Mhmm,” he breathed, nuzzling his face into her hair as his lips brushed the hollow behind her ear, “and I’d like to continue unless you had other plans.” Well he seemed better. Although odd that he was actually sleeping, she couldn’t deny that it brought her a sense of unbridled happiness. She was certain if had to do with his drained grace, making him more human, and she wondered if these new experiences were part of what was unsettling him so deeply. Her eyes flicked to the clock, 11:46. They’d been sleeping for almost twelve hours. The last time she’d slept more than five… she couldn’t even remember. Her body felt good for the first time in a decade, the aches and pains that usually accompanied her waking from a restless night of nightmares and tossing were gone. Soon Gabriel’s breathing had slowed and deepened, all signs pointing to him having fallen back into, whatever this could be called. Angel recharge? His breath rhythmically hit the back of her neck, warming and chilling her at the same time. He was safe. She was afraid to move, fearful of disturbing him from his much needed and deserved rest, but she so desperately wanted to see his face. Slowly she started to shift, inching her body around under his arm, careful not to make any rapid movements. When she’d settled onto her other side, her heart skipped a beat as her eyes landed on one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. He looked so young and unburdened in his sleep. The sight was something she never knew she needed until it was right in front of her. His hair was mussed-up all around his head, messily sticking up in certain places, some falling into his eyes that were free of the trauma etched lines she’d noticed since his return the day before. The light stubble coming in along his chin was mesmerizing, the sprinkling of grays mixed with the golden brown made him look just that much more human; she’d have to convince him to keep it. Subconsciously her hand had found its way to his face, the backs of her fingers gently running up and down his jaw gently, slowly, as if remapping the angles of his face. “So, do you have other plans?” He mumbled sleepily, his lips slightly ticking upwards into a smirk as his hand began running lazily up and down the bare skin of her back. There was no point in trying to resist. This may never happen again, and if she didn’t make the most of it, this perfect opportunity would go to waste. She nestled in closer to him, letting every one of her senses be all-consumed by him, her lips finding the soft skin of his neck, humming every time they made contact. He remained still as she worked her way around his exposed skin, his fingers continuing along her back, soothing and contented. He felt a small pang of selfishness as her affections went unreciprocated as he let the peace from her closeness wash over him. The night hadn’t been easy, but waking up to this had certainly been worth the nightmares. He felt undeserving and unworthy, he shouldn’t even be here right now, with her hand gently roaming his chest and her mouth leaving a trail of warmth as she traveled along every inch of exposed skin that she could reach. “I love you,” she murmured against his throat, curling her fingers lightly into his disheveled hair, “forever.” “All I ever wanted,” he whispered in response, unsure if it was relief or guilt settling into his stomach. Her lips found his, pulling him into a slow, burning kiss. He moved with unhindered gratitude, always having been better at showing his emotions than telling. He poured himself into her as he began to take over, his hands finding the softness of her hips before rolling her onto her back. Hovering above her now, he took a moment to gaze down and marvel at the sight beneath him. Something about her seemed different. Everything was softer, gentler, less intent, the angry fire behind her eyes had dimmed. Her brown hair was splayed across the pillow, fanning around her delicate face and he was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his entire existence. How was he ever supposed to have walked away from this? Thousands of years on Earth had certainly built up his self control, but her? It was like a cigar to a smoker or wine to an alcoholic; he was addicted. “What?” she asked with a nervous smile, as she ran her hands up and down his arms on either side of her. “Nothing,” he cooed, leaning his head down and kissing her deeply once, before pulling back up, “I just like you.” “Shut up.” He drank her laugh in, kissing the end of it into his own smile. If this is what mornings were like, forget days and nights, he’d spend forever staring into those sleep-lidded whiskey eyes, worshipping every inch of her before her feet could even hit the floor. As he pulled his mouth from hers again he rubbed his nose along her cheek, enjoying the frustrated little whine that rumbled in her throat. Her back arched towards him as he continued his slow, tantalizing kisses from her jaw, down her neck, to her collar bone, the pace almost agonizing. The groans and whimpers sighing from her nose matching her fidgeting movements as she craved for more contact. But he showed no signs of relenting any time soon as he again found his way to her lips, his tongue swiping against hers in one swift motion before pulling away once again. “Stop teasing,” she pouted, every nerve tingling, reaching out for him. “I’m gonna take care of you, don’t you worry,” he responded as her arms came around his neck, attempting to pull the immovable being back down to her, “but you woke me up. Punishment.” This was the most extraordinary torture she’d ever been subjected to. She wanted him so badly it ached, she was on fire, already covered by a thin sheen of sweat and he hadn’t even touched her yet. When his lips locked hard onto her pulse point, she knew she had lost control, moaning as his tongue swiped over the reddening spot, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin only adding to the sensation. If he were anyone else she’d be completely embarrassed at her lack of restraint, but with him, it had always been liberating. “Gabriel,” she sighed, begging with her tone to give her what she so desperately wanted, her knees shooting up and pressing into his sides as she tried to soothe the throbbing between her legs. “Patience sweetheart,” he exhaled, bringing his eyes back to hers, one eyebrow raised, “lay back, and enjoy. I’m just getting started.” Her heart skipped into her throat as his dark, lust-blown eyes bore into hers, his words alone sending another shockwave searing through her. He dipped down again, his hair brushing against her cheeks as he devoured her mouth, finally giving her more than one touch at a time, their tongues battling for dominance. While he still had a reign over his composure, hers was lost. Her hands couldn’t land on any one part of him, fingernails leaving trails of red across his skin, trying everything in her power to rile him up as much as he had her, but he remained steadfast. “I always did love your eagerness,” he chuckled as he sat back against his heels, earning him a deathly glare, “still do.” “Stop talking,” she hissed, feeling his absence as the cool air of the room hit her overheated skin. “Or what?” The cocky grin and arched eyebrow were enough to drive her mad, but the dimples on his cheeks sent her falling over the precipice, and he loved every second of it. Her swollen lips were curled up into the perfect little scowl, her eyes practically black as her dewy skin glinted in the sunlight. “Sweetheart, you look good enough to eat,” he taunted, purposely lowering his voice down a few octaves. “Oh no…” she groaned, rolling her eyes as a smile stretched across her face, laughter bubbling from her chest. Scooting himself down the bed, he began to lay on his stomach, peppering her stomach and hips with his lips on his way down. The anticipation was killing her. He was the only person she’d ever felt comfortable enough to share this level of intimacy with, and she’d craved it for so long. When his lips finally sealed over that little bundle of nerve endings she thought she would explode right then and there. The scream that erupted from her mouth was sinful, every muscle in her body contracting at once. It took all of her remaining self control to not lock her thighs around his head as he continued, his tongue and lips working in perfect tandem against her. She didn’t dare look down at him, knowing full well his eyes would be locked on her, afraid that that was all she needed to topple over the edge. She wasn’t ready for this to be over. Her toes curled as her abdominal muscles spasmed; her fingers had wound their way into his hair, anchoring him to his current task. “Why are you holding back?” He whispered, his breath hot against her, the new sensation making her efforts even more difficult, “Don’t think I can’t tell.” His lips moved to her inner thighs as he waited for his answer, letting her mind clear just enough to sigh out her answer, “I don’t want it to end.” “Who said it had to end?” When his tongue returned to her core she finally succumbed, screaming his name into the quiet room, and he stayed unrelenting, only slowing his pace just enough to not overstimulate her. She was writhing again moments later, completely submitted to the man between her legs. She’d given in, her thighs spread wide on either side of him, one hand combing through his honey blonde hair as she finally followed his instruction to lay back and enjoy. Moans, mutters, and whines of his name bubbled off her lips like champagne, that coil of pressure returning to her belly. Gentler this time, that coil snapped again, the wave of release washing through her contracted muscles as he eased her through, her eyes finally brave enough to look down at him. With a gentle pull on his chin she welcomed his lips back to hers, kissing him deep as she waited for him to take the next step. But he didn’t. “What about you?” She breathed, regrettably pulling away from his worshipful mouth. “What about me?” He replied, resting his hand on her face, running his thumb along her puffy bottom lip. “I got what I wanted.” This had to be a dream. There was no way this was real life. The fresh breeze floating in from the open window, the sunlight filtering through the gauzy white curtains; this was a dream. Nowhere like this existed in her world, and there was no way anyone like Gabriel could exist anywhere but a dreamworld. She was under a djinn spell. That was it. It explained everything… except the gurgling rumbling through her stomach right now, she couldn’t remember ever having fantasized about being absolutely starving. “So what should we do today besides each other?” Gabriel asked, snapping her back to reality with his lopsided smirk. “I think I need to eat, before we do anything else,” she groaned, unable to focus on anything besides the emptiness sitting in her abdomen now. Vaguely she remembered passing a diner moments before pulling into the motel, her fantasies now shifting from Gabriel’s talented tongue to eggs slathered in hot sauce and a half pound of bacon. But that also meant pulling her gelatin body from this warm bed and away from the face hovering inches above her. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at him. Whatever this world was, she was going to die here, because she was never leaving. “I’ll go, I remember that place right down the road,” he cooed, his voice soft and endearing. Before her cloudy mind could even react he’d rolled off of her, his bare feet padding gently against the wooden floor as he searched the room for his long since discarded clothing. She was instantly colder, missing even the weight of his body on the mattress with her. She turned and watched as he slid his jeans back on, soaking in how absolutely normal this moment felt. There was no case, no monsters, no demons, it was just them, waking up at noon and staying in bed for another hour just because they could. His search continued for his shirt, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the way his eyebrows furrowed in frustration and his lips fluttered as he mumbled to himself. “Have you seen my…” he muttered, looking in the most obscure places he could find, “the hell? Did it grow legs?” She spotted it almost immediately, crumpled in a ball in the corner by her side of the bed, but watching him look was providing far too much entertainment to give in just yet. As he crouched down to crawl under the small wooden desk, a pit dropped into her stomach. He was leaving. He was going to walk out that door, and what if he never came back? Last time, he hadn’t come back, what would be different about this time? She wasn’t about to lose him for a cheap diner breakfast. “You don’t have to go,” she snapped, voice much harder than she intended, and he was taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanor. “Are you just gonna starve?” He questioned, looking at her skeptically, reading through her now rigid posture and sharp gaze. “I can go.” “Why don’t you want me to…” It dawned on him. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t want him to leave, because she didn’t think he’d come back. A flurry of emotions circled through him, guilt, disappointment, a little bit of anger and resentment. While he knew he deserved her doubt, he didn’t understand why she couldn’t comprehend that it hadn’t been his fault. She acted like he’d wanted to leave her, that he was some flight risk. “Liv, come on. You honestly can’t have that little faith in me. It’s right down the road,” he scoffed, raising his hands in exasperation. “That’s… it’s not that. That’s not it,” she stumbled. For someone who lied for a living, this was pretty dismal. “Then what?” “I just, I can do it myself. You don’t even eat, you don’t need to go.” This was bad. There was no way he was buying this for one second. It felt wrong and accusatory, but somewhat justified, right? “If you don’t even trust me to go half a mile down the road then…” he sat on the edge of the bed, clearly agitated, “what’s the point?” His words stung deep. Her cheeks started to burn as the weight of them settled into her chest. He was right. This was supposed to be a fresh start. She was being unfair, untrusting, this wasn’t how she wanted to begin again. It felt like going against her better judgement, but her judgement had also been seriously skewed from a life of solitude and barricades. What did she know about healthy relationships? Not a thing. What did she know about someone actually wanting to take care of her? Also, not a thing. He deserved a chance. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she replied, hanging her head, trying to suppress the warning flares going off in her head, “I just…” “I know,” he whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace, “I’ll be back in twenty.” She nodded against his chest, trying to surrender to the good thoughts playing over in her mind. When was the last time someone had went out and gotten her breakfast? Why was this a bad thing? He would be back. He was coming back, with food, and those stupid dimples and messy hair. Twenty minutes. “Don’t forget hot sauce,” she mumbled against his neck before lifting her head. “I wouldn’t dare,” he assured, “I survived nine years of hell, no way I’m dying over forgetting Tabasco.” With a quick kiss to her forehead, he climbed off the bed and snatched his shirt from the corner, eyeing her bitterly as he realized she’d known where it was all along. She responded with a mischievous shrug, smirking, feeling that lightheartedness she’d woken up with returning, or maybe it was lightheadedness, at this point she wasn’t really sure. “Where’s the keys?” He asked, and her eyes widened. “Keys? You haven’t driven in nine years! No way you’re getting the keys to my sweet girl,” she snapped, shaking her head. “What? Come on it’s like riding a bike. It’s locked up here with all my other worldly, celestial knowledge, it’s not like I forgot.” “Do you even know how to ride a bike?” “No, but I know how to drive a car. Oh, there they are.” “No!” As she shrieked he ran to the door, opening it wide as she clambered out of bed, forcing her to stumble and grab the thick heavy quilt to shield herself from any unsuspecting eyes, giving him just enough time to slip out, blowing her a kiss from the entryway before closing the door behind him. She knew she’d be too late, but she scrambled around the room, locating panties and a tank top and throwing them on before whipping the door open. She’d caught him as he was reversing her beloved Charger from its parked spot right in front the of hotel, spraying gravel everywhere as he laid his foot down heavy on the gas. “Don’t crash my fucking car!” She screamed as he put the car into drive, turning the radio up to drown her out. He responded with a smirk and a thumbs up, her concern for her poor, precious coupe only growing as he sped off down the parking lot, the wheels squealing as he pulled out onto the road.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Safe with me (5)

Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.     

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Descriptions of stalking. People being shitty to Bucky Barnes (fight me).

A/N: My knowledge of trial procedure is based on reruns of Law and Order, so I’m probably taking some liberties. Just go with it. Canonically, Senator Stern does not have a first name, so I made one up. Also, Bucky wears suits like Harvey Specter, that’s simple fact. This chapter is more serious, and someone else gets protective.

SORRY FRIENDS, TAGS FOR THE STORY ARE CLOSED.

SAFE WITH ME MASTERLIST PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously...

Shaky hands flip open a little blue bottle, and he pulls out a small yellow pill. Setting it on the tip of his tongue, he closes his eyes as it dissolves. His body reacts quickly to the drug, a feeling of melting wax dripped across his skin, splotches of burning heat followed by velvety ice. The ‘oblivion’ is a tangible object as it pours over him, rushing from the tips of his fingers to his ends of his toes.

Ready, ready, ready. Ready to comply.

He opens his eyes and picks up the paper, folding it into a perfect rectangle.

He has a letter to deliver.

*****

Lost in thought, you stare out the window, contemplating the steady fall of rain. The city was a watercolor painting against the night sky, a canvas smeared with blurry oranges and yellows, the sharp angles of skyscrapers reduced to soft black smudges. Lightning flashed and flickered, illuminating the dark apartment, and the crash of thunder follows instantaneously. It reverberates through the bones of Manhattan, steel and metal and concrete, rattling your thoughts. Your brain nudges you again, remembering yesterday's conversation.

*****

Jack is waiting next to your desk when you return from lunch, an expectant look on his face. Wordlessly, he hands over three thick files.

"All the back-up was emailed as well, but I know you like hard copies. I want short summaries posted to the 'Political Fast Facts' section every evening, and a feature-length story for the Sunday edition. Send everything direct to me for edit and review."

Pinching your bottom lip, you nod briskly. He notices the dismal expression.

"Did you try talking to him?"

"I did."

"Then I take it he won't budge?"

"No. He won't."

"It's his decision, you know that. He's a professional. He won't let his personal feelings get in the way."

*****

Hugging the steaming cup of pre-dawn coffee close to your chest, the heat of the ceramic mug seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, warming your skin. Taking a small sip, you glance back to the red notebook sitting open on the coffee table, the creamy white sheets blank. Yesterday's lunch conversation with him replays again, vividly fresh.

*****

Digging two sodas from a paper bag, Bucky hands you a diet Coke and sets his Dr. Pepper on the bench.

"I don't understand why you drink diet Coke, it's shit."

"Because I like the taste, asshat."

"It's gross."

"Your face is gross."

He grins and snaps the tab on his soda, continuing picking up his ongoing stream of instruction. "Fair enough. Anyway, I'll pick you up at 6:30, I want to miss the morning rush. Make sure you're ready."

Rubbing your finger along the edge of the soda can, you stay quiet. Knowing him for several weeks now, there hasn't been a single thing you've been afraid to say. Until now. He realizes something's wrong, and he goes still, waiting patiently for you to speak. Lifting nervous eyes to his face, you force the words out in a rush.

"Hey, so listen."

Bucky tenses immediately, setting down the soda can and shaking his head. "No."

"Bucky stop, just listen for a minute."

"No."

"You stubborn dick, can you just let me get this out? Just - just let me go into the trial alone. It's ridiculous for you to sit in that courtroom and re-live this shit," you argue heatedly. "It's okay, alright? I'll be okay. You can wait right outside the door, less than 20 feet away. Just because you're not sitting with me, doesn't mean you're not doing your job. It's okay Bucky, really. I don't mind."

"No."

At the defiant clench of his jaw, you want to stamp your feet. Nothing about this response is surprising, but you try one final time. "For the first time in my life, I'm not trying to be a pain in your ass Bucky, I swear. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. That's all I'm saying."

Calm, unwavering determination burns in his eyes. "I knew this was part of the deal before I signed up. I did it anyway. I appreciate your concern, I really do. But you don't need to protect me, that's my job. I'm coming. Where you go, I go."

*****

Former Senator Garrison Stern's trial begins this morning, and the arrival comes with a startling awareness. Bucky is the most solid, reliable, comforting presence you've allowed in your life for years, and while the verbal battles that make up your daily exchange are entertaining, you would never, ever willingly hurt him.

It was bad enough that you were there, listening and re-living.

That he disagreed was no surprise. Bucky Barnes would take that crushing sense of duty and sacrifice to the grave.

*****

The rain mercifully ends at daybreak, sunlight filtering through the clouds in streaks of gold to chase away the gloom. Bucky texts his arrival at 6:25, so you gather your bag, zip your boots, and head down to face the day.

Walking into the damp morning air, you find him facing east, hands in his pockets as he watches the rising sun creep through the streets. When he turns to greet you, the sight momentarily stuns. Gone is the beat-up leather jacket and jeans, replaced with an impeccably tailored dark blue suit, French cuffs crisply white, a grey silk tie in a thick Windsor knot at his neck.

He looks completely, totally, and utterly unfair.

When you speak, the greeting comes out a squeak that sounds irritatingly breathless. "Good morning. You – clean up okay."

"Good morning," he responds, a smile curving his lips. "Was that my compliment for today?"

Precariously off balance, you slip into defensive mode while you recalibrate. "Yes. Did you need something more? Is that not good enough?"

"No, I don't think so. You're a writer, you have a big vocabulary. You can do better," he says seriously. Opening the backdoor to the black Mercedes parked at the curb, he motions you inside. You slide into the backseat with a huff, but not before pinching his arm in retaliation.

He shuts the door and laughs.

*****

The crowd is only beginning to gather when you arrive at the courthouse, allowing you to reach the top of the steep stairs with ease. Leaning against the white marble pillars, you dig through your bag for the envelope containing your two ID badges. Handing Bucky his plastic pass, you slip a white lanyard over your neck, adjusting the name-tag carefully. After all this time, it still gives you a little thrill seeing your name with 'New York Times, Journalist' printed below.

Bucky drops his around his neck without another thought and returns to scanning the bodies loitering on the steps. Giving his sleeve a small tug, he looks down and you point at the badge with raised eyebrows. "I had that one printed special for you, least you can do is say thanks."

He looks at you in confusion, before squinting down at the tag. It takes him a moment, but then he snorts.

Sergeant James Barnes

SHIELD, Winter Fucking Soldier

"You're an idiot," he chuckles.

"Um, you're fucking welcome," you answer in mock outrage.

His grin slowly fades into one of genuine sincerity. "Thank you. I mean it. Just what I needed today."

Giving him an encouraging smile, you turn to go inside. Squaring his shoulders, Bucky lifts his eyes to the sky, hesitating for the briefest pause. Collecting himself, he fixes his lips into his trademark sneer, adds a little 'murder strut pep' to his step, and follows you in.

Winter Fucking Soldier indeed.

*****

WEDNESDAY, DAY 1 Former Pennsylvania Senator Garrison Stern's trial began today, the last in a series of revolutionary court cases accusing three of the most influential and popular members of Congress with terrorism. Mr. Stern, who was exposed in the aftermath of SHIELD's global data release, faces an impressive number of crimes, the extravagance and cruelty of which was previously seen on the infamous list of crimes posthumously linked to Secretary Alexander Pierce. Pierce, who was shot dead during –

NYTimes Online; "Political Fast Facts: Garrison Stern's trial kicks off"

*****

Access to the trial was granted to only a handful of journalists and you're pleased with the invite. Bucky follows you into the courtroom, giving a grunt of disapproval when he finds the seating assignments. Ignoring the two allocated for you, he swaps the name cards with two seats near the exit and waits while you get settled, his eyes sweeping slowly through the courtroom.

You don't need to ask.

Door to the Judge's chambers directly behind the bench, prisoner holding cells to the right. Heavy wood tables for the Prosecution and Defense teams holding three people each, one exit at the rear. No windows.

Just in case.

Long minutes tick by as you let him think, spinning your pen anxiously between your fingers, before clearing your throat quietly. Bucky recognizes the request for attention and glances down inquiringly. Your eyes stay glued to the floor.

"The trial should be fast. Less than a week. There's so much evidence, this is really a formality."

He doesn't reply. When you finally meet his gaze, he gives a short nod, his face calm. With one final look around the room, he moves to sit carefully beside you, folding his hands in his lap and settling into an unnerving stillness.

Here is a fact. Stern was never involved with the Winter Soldier in the same way as Alexander Pierce. He was a tertiary commander, never given direct access to, or command of, the Soldier.

Here is another fact. Nuance is unimportant. Even in a limited capacity, he held control over the Soldier's fate, and with that simple fact, Bucky knows a fierce desire to see this end. Alexander Pierce's death came far too easy, so watching Garrison Stern slowly crack and crumble and bleed out his last bit of sanity? Well. That somewhat assuages the blinding desire for revenge.

When the teams file in, Bucky's fingers begin to twitch.

Stern looks like hell, and my god, does that make you happy. His suit hangs loose, curly brown hair thin and streaked with grey. Before he collapses in his assigned chair, he chances a glance to the gallery and you watch his eyes skip past you, before snapping back in surprise. When he spots Bucky at your side, he seems bemused by the connection, until the strangest look takes over his face.

And then his lawyer is whispering in his ear, forcing him into a chair, and he turns forward, hands clasped loosely on the wide table. A hush falls over the room, broken only by the sounds of terse whispers and rustling papers.

"All rise," the Bailiff's voice rings through the courtroom and your legs are moving automatically, lifting you to your feet as the Judge enters, Bucky rising stiffly at your side.

And so, it begins.

There's a clean white sheet of paper in front of the Judge, the neat rows of black print perfectly identical to the one in your hand. When she reads down the list of charges, you follow along, heart hammering when she hits two in particular.

"The Defendant is being charged with the following crimes: contempt of court; treason against the United States government; crimes against humanity, including the use of Weapons of Mass Destruction, forced disappearances of federal officials, torture, and unethical human experimentation; War Crimes including strategic bombing of civilian populations, and the capture and murder of hostages."

Absolute silence follows the Judge's statement, letting the audience absorb the drama of the words, and in mirror movements, you and Bucky look to each other. The heaviness of the days to come presses down already.

*****

THURSDAY, DAY 2 Every single member of the jury turned away in disgust when the photographs landed in their hands. Images of broken children, innocence in the face of Hydra's bloodlust and fanaticism, stood in stark relief to the look of utter boredom locked on Garrison Stern's face.

NYTimes Online; "Political Fast Facts: Kazakhstan and the lost seven"

*****

The Prosecutor selects a collection of photographs, sifting through as he walks deliberately to the jury box. Placing them into random hands, he waits to speak and is rewarded with a series of quiet gasps, as the men and women view the pictures.

"Two doctors were recruited at Mr. Stern's request, for research into the properties of Abraham Erskine's 'Super-Soldier Serum', most commonly known as serum successfully implemented in partnership with Captain Steven G. Rogers in 1943. Decrypted email correspondence shows Mr. Stern authorised the kidnapping of children in northern Kazakhstan for human experimentation and approved the wire-transfer of funds to the doctors hired to perform the procedure. The photographs in your hands show what was done to the children at Mr. Stern's request."

He stops again, lets the photos move through the jury's hands, before continuing.

"Statements were given by Sergeant James Barnes, who discovered the base and attempted to rescue the children, and by Dr. Bruce Banner, who later performed the autopsies. I'd like to read a summary of Sergeant Barnes' mission report as you look at these."

There's a twist in your stomach when he begins the familiar story. Each individual in the courtroom shifts in their seat, stealing a covert look at Bucky, who stares straight ahead, his expression blank. You only realise the impact when you see the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

MISSION REPORT: Recon and extraction, former Hydra base in northern Kazakhstan Written by Sgt J.B. Barnes at request of N.J. Fury

After infiltrating the base, I found seven concrete cells on the lowest level. Inside were four dead bodies, each lying on their back, faces covered in dried blood, indicating they had been there for some time. Further in the base, I found an occupied laboratory, where three remaining children, two males and one female, were strapped to metal tables. Doctors were performing tests on them, specifically cutting open their arms and injecting green fluid under their skin.

After neutralising the threat, I carried the remaining three children from the base, but none survived. All three collapsed within ten minutes of leaving the facility; I attempted CPR, but was unable to revive any of them. Speaking later with Dr. Banner, he concluded the children died from a combination of asphyxiation and internal burns.

Bucky still sits unmoving next to you, betraying nothing.

If you live to be a hundred, you'll never forget this story. His mission report is a simple set of facts, devoid of the heart-breaking colour and emotion that filled his original words and you realise with a pang that he shared that version with you and you alone.

Intensive debates and discussions follow. Questions are posed, answers reluctantly given. Nerves are stretched taut when the Judge finally orders a midday recess. Notebooks pop when they snap shut, chairs squeak as occupants move, and the hum of muted voices rises.

This situation is so ridiculous. You hate that he has to sit here and listen to this garbage. Licking your lips, you search for something to say, but the words that come feel overcooked and inauthentic, and you cringe when they leave your lips.

"I'm so sorry Bucky, I know that must have been hard, I really don't mind if you wait outside – "

"No," Bucky mutters, stopping you with a frustrated shake of his head. "Don't, please. I mean it. I like it much better when you're fired up at me, I don't want pity."

"Fine," you scowl, anger at his obstinacy flaring white-hot. "Fine. Then how's this? You're being a stupid, pig-headed, god damn chucklefuck, and I'd really like to punch you in your stubborn teeth. Does that work?"

"Yeah," he sighs with relief, leaning back against the seat. "Yeah, that's perfect."

*****

Dusk is falling when you leave the courthouse. A group of reporters are congregating at the bottom of the steps, when they spy Bucky behind you. There's a sudden burst of shouting, and the group swarms, questions flying from every direction.

"Sergeant Barnes, will you take the stand as a witness?"

"Do you remember meeting with Mr. Stern while you were with Hydra?"

"How do you respond to those people saying you should be locked up as well?"

After everything he sat through today, everything he heard, everything he's dealt with, the last question goes too far. Feeling fighty as fuck, you whirl toward the voice in fury, but a hand locks tight on your arm.

"Don't," comes Bucky's voice, sharp and low in your ear. Looking up in disbelief, you want to demand why the hell not, when he answers in a flat voice. "It's never worth it."

You simply stare at him, wondering how he can let this shit roll off, because it's so fucking unfair, you can barely see straight. But he doesn't say a word. Instead, he wraps his right arm protectively around your shoulders, holds his silver hand ahead to clear a path, and pulls you along. His mouth is set in a grim line, ignoring every question flung his way.

You let yourself be pulled against the stream, moving swiftly. Until Bucky strangely stumbles.

He seems confused when he looks over his shoulder, eyes flickering across the mass of shouting voices. There are too many people, too loud, too close and the strange scent comes from nowhere. Bucky feels his lips pucker automatically when the tart, tangy flavor of lemons assails his senses.

He peers down, but you look back questioningly. The smell is so strong he can feel it in his chest, achingly familiar, there's something about it, something important? The idea dances through his brain, refusing to settle and let him consider it further. He rubs his forehead, trying to concentrate, but the scent and desire to investigate further are suddenly gone.

*****

FRIDAY, DAY 3 Apparently, adherence to the Geneva Convention falls outside the scope of Mr. Stern's conscience. During a heated discussion of the catastrophic Algerian Embassy attack that left seven American hostages dead, Mr. Stern's legal defence decided to chase the idea that those individuals murdered in cold-blood were captured as enemies of the state and, wait for it: had it coming.

NYTimes Online; "Political Fast Facts: Murderer is a five-letter word"

*****

More photographs are pulled from the Prosecutor's stack. The images elicit the same disgusted reaction from the jury, which he lets rumble on for a minute before he speaks.

"In August of that year, the US embassy in El Biar, Algeria, was raided and seven Americans taken hostage. Several terror organisations initially took credit, before it was later revealed that Hydra masterminded the takeover to remove prominent US diplomats from power. All seven officials were marched into the streets and summarily executed in broad daylight."

You can feel yourself begin to shiver, an unconscious tremble triggered by nerves and shitty memories that begin to build. Bucky doesn't say a word, but he slides his arm from his side and lays it across the back of the bench. He doesn't try to wrap an arm around you, doesn't try to give you his jacket, doesn't treat you like glass. He just leaves the option there.

And you take it. His body radiates heat, enough to eventually stem the wash of cold running through your veins, and with a small shift and a tilt of your knees, you feel his warmth envelop you.

He tries not to notice. Shifts his attention elsewhere, keeps his eyes trained intently on the arguments up front. He can feel you next to him, scribbling your unintelligible short-hand notes, rolling your shoulders now and again to fix your slouching posture. He finds himself tiptoeing closer to distraction, eagerly awaiting those tiny snippets of sound, ones that suddenly seem to fill the empty spaces in his head.

Quick, quiet, catches of breath. The scratch of a ballpoint pen. A gentle click of teeth tapping together. Sounds that are so much nicer than the horrors spilling at the front of the room.

In the next second, he chides himself harshly.

Distraction is the opposite of control. Bucky Barnes does not lose control.

*****

The courthouse empties quickly on Friday afternoon, and when you and Bucky leave the room, the main hallway is vacant.

"Can you wait here while I make a quick call?"

"No problem," you mumble, so engrossed in skimming your notes you barely hear him. Footsteps fade behind you as Bucky walks a short distance away, and you're left alone. You took pages and pages of notes, and ideas for how to shape the story are already buzzing in your head.

"Good evening," the greeting comes in front of you, a perfectly pleasant voice.

"Good ev –" you reply, glancing up from your notebook, the words dying on your tongue when you see the flushed red cheeks of the heavy-set man. Hatred shines bright in his eyes, rage curling his mouth into a thin-lipped sneer.

Meeting the furious eyes of Garrison Stern's son, you feel your heart skip. Summoning an equal measure of rage, you glare back in defiance. "Whatever it is, I'm not interested."

"Too bad little girl, I'm speaking and you'll fucking listen."

"I'm sorry, did you not understand? Let's try again. You can fuck right off, you arrogant prick."

He steps closer, his hulking presence invading your personal space, but you refuse to back down. "You mouthy little bitch, you really think they're letting you get away with any of this? They'll find you soon enough, you stupid whore –" he spits the words in your face, so close you can smell the wet heat of his breath, before he's suddenly backpedalling in panic, stumbling over his own feet.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Bucky breathes, tugging you behind him and shoving forward, his nose an inch from the man's suddenly pale face.

"N-nothing, it was nothing."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what I thought." Bucky's voice drops, so soft the man strains to hear the words, but there's no mistaking the tone. Sheer fury vibrates clearly in each syllable. "It was nothing because that's exactly what you are, you piece of shit. Here's what happens next. You walk away right now and I won't break your fucking face. But, if you ever come near her again, if you try to touch her or speak to her or even look in her direction, I'll personally remove your spine through your throat, tie it around your neck, and choke the fucking life out of you. Are we god damn motherfucking clear?"

The man nearly swallows his tongue, blanching at the look on Bucky's face. "Sure, whatever you say."

"Apologize to her."

"Fuck you man – "

The smooth sound of whirring machinery hits your ears when Bucky's fist shoots forward, silver plated fingers tangling in the man's tie. He twists the striped silk tight, digging the fabric into his throat, cutting his air supply.

"Try again."

"Bucky," you murmur warningly. "It's okay, just let it go."

He ignores the request, his hand squeezing tighter and tighter, until the man coughs out a response. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

"Good," Bucky hisses, shoving him viciously. Without another glance, he places a steady hand at the small of your back and escorts you down the hallway, opening the front doors with a bang.

The ride back to your apartment is silent. Bucky falls completely still as he stares out the window, but his right hand rests on the seat between you, clenched in a fist so tight his knuckles shine brilliantly white against the black leather. Closing the small space, you brush your thumb over the ridges, a feather-light touch, until his fingers release and relax.

Staring out your own window, you miss the fleeting spark of longing when he glances to your profile.

*****

When the car rolls to a stop in front of your home, you don't leave straight away. Picking at your fingernails, you struggle to articulate your thoughts, an odd experience, given your usual ease. It feels stilted when you speak.

"Bucky. Thank you, for this week. It was – nice to have someone there, someone with me. It would have been fucking miserable to be alone the entire time."

"You don't have to thank me. I told you, it's my job."

"No," you say clearly, tilting your chin up to meet those cool blue eyes. "No, it's not just your job. You didn't have to come and you did. I'm saying thanks because I mean it."

He gives you a small smile. "Okay. You're welcome then."

Wrinkling your nose, you wave your hand, dismissing him. "Anyway, it's been a long few days and I'm emotionally exhausted and it feels weird to be so nice. Don't get used to it."

Bucky nods solemnly, curbing a grin when he hears the snappy sass return. "Understood."

*****

One of the best places to work in your apartment is the floor in front of your couch. Pulling on a threadbare Georgetown sweatshirt, you perch the laptop on the coffee table, spread the notes in a neat semi-circle, and place a bottle of wine close to hand. In a few short hours, you have a solid first draft completed, and email it to Jack with a flourish, adding multiple winky faces as the sign-off.

Despite the strain of the week, you feel strangely wired. The crash will come soon, you have enough experience to know that, but for now you take advantage of the extra energy and move through the apartment, folding laundry, wiping kitchen counters, straightening bookshelves. Once the place is acceptably clean, you wander back into the kitchen and pour the remaining contents of the wine bottle into a pint glass. Gathering the week-old pile of work and personal mail that's been steadily growing, you plop onto the couch and start sorting.

Magazine, bill, bill, magazine, letter, credit card application, dental reminder, bill, magazine.

Piling the bills into a thick stack, you toss the magazines onto the coffee table and pick up the letter. Flipping it over, you don't find a postmark, it looks hand-delivered. Assuming it's another reminder from your building about their 'singles mixer' events (which are just the fucking worst), you slip a thumb under the flap and peel it open.

Unfolding a heavy sheet of paper, the strange images are confusing at first, perplexingly disjointed and incomprehensible.

When the realisation hits, a choked sob rips from your throat.

I SAW YOU TODAY. I WAS WATCHING YOU BUT YOU WERE WATCHING HIM. WHY? THEY TOLD ME WHAT HE'S DOING AND WHAT HE WANTS FROM YOU AND IT'S WRONG. YOU NEED TO SEE IT. I WILL MAKE YOU SEE IT. I WILL MAKE YOU FUCKING SEE IT. HE CAN'T HAVE YOU, HE CAN NEVER HAVE YOU. YOU'RE MINE. YOU'RE MINE. YOU'RE MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE.

There is no signature, only a dark red splatter at the bottom. The paper falls from your fingers, drifting quietly to the floor.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

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[whispersandwhiskerburn]

Have You Ever?

Summary: Dean and the Reader met on a case, and neither one can get the other out of their heads. If they take the risk to try and make it work between them, they might be hurt…but if they don’t, they’ll always wonder about what might have been. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 3,560 Warnings: Fluffy mostly. Tiny bits of relationship angst, but it’s pretty much fluff stuff. Smut happens, but nothing really explicit for this. Author’s Note: This ends up outside of canon in plot, but I hope the characters are still canonical. The song Glitter in the Air by P!nk (lyrics are in italics, but you should totally listen to this gorgeous ballad) with the dialogue line in bold below, were part of a challenge/celebration I held for reaching 2k. One of my absolute favorite tumblr writers requested this pairing, and even though I’ve taken forever to write this, I hope I made her happy with it: @dancingalone21, enjoy! And thanks for all you do! 

Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone? Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you’re not alone…. It had been weeks. He wasn’t calling.

You shook off your melancholy and put your coffee mug into the sink, running some water in it to avoid increasing the permanence of the stain in the bottom. Not that anyone else would ever notice or care—one of the few benefits of being a single workaholic with no friends or family.

You couldn’t even be mad at yourself for having him in your head. If anyone was worth carrying a torch over, it was Dean Winchester.

He had saved your life after all.

To be fair though, you’d saved his too.

 Three weeks ago:

“Who the hell…?” You started at the sound of someone knocking insistently on the door. You’d only gotten home fifteen minutes ago from your night shift at the hospital and it was way too early for visitors.

You just wanted to sleep.

But the damn knocking wasn’t going away, so you groaned as you forced your tired body out of your arm chair and peered through the peep-hole to see a tall handsome stranger with…was that a badge?

You left the chain on the door but cracked it open to get a better look.

And wow.

Tall, spiky dark blonde hair, green eyes, and a smile that instantly woke you out of your exhaustion. And when he spoke, it was in a deep rumble that seemed to echo in your chest even with the door blocking the way between most of you.

“Ms. Y/L/N? I’m Special Agent John Bonham, and I need to talk to you about what you saw tonight in the ER. Can I come in?“

You just stared at him in disbelief, your interest quickly fading to anger as he shifted his weight awkwardly.

“You are kidding me, right? John Bonham? I take it you’re a Zeppelin fan, whoever you are, but it’s early and I’m tired, so you can go away before I call the real cops.”

You went to go shut the door but the toe of his boot was in the way. For a moment you felt scared, adrenaline beginning to pump inside you. He was big, you were alone, and he was already lying.

Then you looked at him closer. His eyes were sincere, his hands spread in an innocent gesture, and… was that blood on his side?

“Okay, you’re right, I’m not a cop. But I am here to help, and I do need to ask you a few questions. Could you please trust me, just for five minutes? I don’t even have to come inside; you could come talk to me out here.” You studied him silently. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking, Ms. Y/L/N--, Y/N. Can I call you Y/N, please?”

Your nurse instincts were warring with your common sense, and you opened the door out to the length of the chain again.

“Are you hurt?”

At his confused look, you gestured to his side, which he touched gently before his hand came away bloody. He cursed under his breath, and looked back at you.

“I’ll be fine. Please, Y/N. Just five minutes. This is life or death.”

In your world, it seemed like everything always was.

“Who are you really?”

“My name is Dean Winchester. I hunt monsters, and I believe one of them is killing your patients. I need your help to figure out what it is before it tries to gut me again, so that I can try and kill it before it hurts even more people. Normally I’d tell you some more believable lie, or try to sweet talk you into working with me, but I really don’t have the time or patience right now.”

You looked at him, your instincts, honed by years of dealing with abuse victims and scared, hurt people, said that he was telling the truth, no matter how outlandish it seemed.

You closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted your emotions. It’s why you were who you were—you went with your gut. You closed the door, unlocked the chain and opened it wide.

“Come on in, Mr. Winchester. You can ask your questions while I look at your wound. If you aren’t bleeding to death though, I’m going to need some coffee first.”

Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

Present Day

That had been a whirlwind weekend, and it had changed your life forever. Something about knowing that ghosts and monsters were real made you question a lot of what you did.

Not your profession, but certainly how you lived your life. You met Sam and between your access to the hospital and medical training, and the skills they had learned from their father, the three of you had managed to figure out how the creature was killing your patients: feeding on their life energy until they went into cardiac arrest and died.

Killing it had been considerably harder though.

Dean had ended up throwing himself bodily between the monster and you, earning himself a few more wounds and enough time for Sam to stab the whatever-it-was in the heart with some kind of special blade. You hadn’t wanted to know all the details. Or see the stabbing, to be honest. But you had needed to try and protect your patients—they were your responsibility after all.

Dean had been hard headed, refusing to stay in the hospital. You’d refused to let him spend the night without a medically trained person nearby. The compromise had been simple—he came home with you.

“Stop this, Y/N,” you muttered to yourself, taking the laundry out to the washer and scolding yourself. Dwelling on Dean Winchester wouldn’t do you any good.

Not that it hadn’t been good. That night with him…. Have you ever held your breath, and asked yourself will it ever get better than tonight?

You slammed the basket on the machine, trying to focus your wayward brain on the mundane task at hand.

The man had left afterward. And he’d never offered to take you with him or see you again. He’d taken your number and never called. Messages didn’t get much clearer than that.

Dean Winchester was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Whatever connection you had thought was between you…well, you had been wrong.

It was too bad your stupid brain seemed incapable of accepting it.

A Year Later

Ugh, thank goodness that was over.

You let the keys fall onto the small table by the door, tossing the fancy clutch purse on your sofa as you immediately stepped out of your best pair of high heels, your arches screaming at you.

The annual Gala was a great fundraiser for the hospital, but you dreaded it every year. Dressing up and sipping champagne, making nice with the board members and potential donors, keeping in mind the MRI or extra nursing staff their money could help afford—it was awful from start to finish.

You padded through your carpeted hallway, your bare feet sore and achy, but much better due to their new-found freedom.

And you’d be feeling even better once you poured yourself a vodka and coke and ate something that didn’t leave a too-expensive taste in your mouth.

A few minutes of rummaging in the fridge unearthed a bar of chocolate and a bunch of grapes. You popped the grapes in a bowl to carry and eat slowly, devoured the chocolate while you poured your drink, then headed for the French doors that led to your garden.

Your fenced in privacy garden where you could look at the stars, drink without feeling judged, and get some peace from the world. Your haven.

Your quiet, lonely haven…which, inexplicably, had Dean Winchester sitting in the middle of it, on your lounge chair.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your toes curling in the soft grass to try and ground yourself. Dean looked … delicious. It had been a year, and damn, he seemed to have only improved in that time…though you noticed a few more worry lines than you remembered on his face.

You vaguely noticed that while your eyes were wandering over him, his were devouring you, the expression on his face that of a starving man encountering his favorite food.

“Wow. I…uh, you look incredible. What’s the occasion?” Dean’s voice was just as husky as you remembered, and you fought back the shivers on your spine.

You looked down at your dark blue form-fitting dress dumbly, wondering if you were in shock.

“Hospital fundraiser.”

He held out a Starbucks coffee container towards you, “I brought you your favorite, Sugar.”

That little name. That was enough to wake you out of your daze. You walked towards him, placing the bowl of grapes and your vodka and coke on the table that usually held a book for you to read. Dean followed your lead, placing the coffee down beside them.

You sat down next to him on the lounge, your eyes fixed on the ground, trying to figure out how you felt.

Angry? Sure, there was some of that. He had left—hadn’t called in a year. And then here he was.

Relieved? Definitely. You’d considered many times that the reason for his silence might have been that he’d died. You knew what he did for a living, after all.

The rest was all jumbled.

“Sugar….Y/N are you okay?” You saw his hand move, as if he wanted to touch you, to comfort you.

“Honestly, Dean, I have no idea. It’s been nearly a year, and I’ve heard nothing. I thought…. Then there you are. Sitting in the garden, clutching my coffee…and calling me sugar. You called me sugar.” You looked at him finally, finding his eyes worried, and God, so full of emotion.

The man seemed to truly care about you in that moment, no matter what had happened in the last year.

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have called it’s just—the things we’ve been through… Do you remember the sun going out? There was this thing, God nearly died, we saved him… it’s actually kind of complicated. And after that we got our Mom back from the dead, Lucifer possessed the President and fathered a child, a bunch of British assholes tried to kill us all….” He let his voice trail off as he studied the expression on my face.

When he started again, there was a hint of a smile in his voice that you didn’t really understand.

“Look, my life, my family’s life—it’s never safe. I accepted that a long time ago. And even though I wanted to, I didn’t think it would be right to bring you into that mess. So I walked away. And I didn’t call. And I’m sorry.

“But I’m back now. Because I can’t stop thinking about you, about what it meant to me when I was with you. And…fuck, I sound like some stupid chick flick.” He rubbed his face with his hands, breaking the look between the two of you.

At that moment, you tried to understand Dean—what his life was like, and how he would feel about bringing someone he cared about into that life. You trusted your instincts, your gut, and they were telling you that this was the real reason he had stayed away, why he had never called.

He did care. And he was terrified because of it.

Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, ‘I just don’t care’?

He had made the choice to come back, as hard as that choice must have been. And considering you hadn’t been able to move on from him in the slightest bit in the past year, considering the fact that you felt him in your arms in your dreams constantly—there was no way in Hell or Heaven you were going to let him walk away again.

You reached out, cupping his jaw and turning his face to look at you again.

There are a few moments in a person’s life where everything seems to slow down—when you can feel your life changing around you. As a medical professional, you’d seen it happen in the eyes of family members and your patients—the moment after which nothing else will be the same.

You’d never felt it yourself though. And even as you leaned in to kiss Dean’s lips, sealing your fate, a part of you tried to absorb the moment. It’s only half past the point of no return, his eyes fixed on your lips, his tongue moistening his own as he leaned in to meet you. The promise in his eyes, the tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn….

The kiss was gentle, brief, and earth shattering. He leaned back, those gorgeous green eyes searching yours, as if to see if it was the same for you as for him.

The thunder before the lightning and the breath before the phrase, “Have you ever felt this way, Y/N?”

You shook your head no, lost in his eyes, the feel of his hands in your hair, this impossible moment under the stars in your private garden, and the wonderful possibilities it might lead to.

“Have you ever...?”

“No, Sugar. Never….”

Then you were kissing him again, and he was pulling you on top of him, leaning back on the lounge chair.

And it didn’t matter that the night wind was chilly on your bare skin.

It didn’t matter that it had been a year since you had been with this, or any other man.

It didn’t matter that you had no idea what tomorrow might hold.

What mattered was Dean Winchester and the way he felt, the way he made you feel.

What mattered was that moment when he was deep inside you, and every inch of your body was tight, your pulse thrumming in your ears, his name on your lips as you tipped over the edge and he held you, murmuring that he had you, that you were beautiful.

What mattered was afterwards, lying next to him and just breathing him in, your legs tangled together, fingers entwined.

“Wow… you held back last time, didn’t you?” Dean’s voice was playfully accusing, and you smiled.

“Well, you were sort of injured at the time.” You smiled up his chest, then nodded towards the table.

“Can you pass me my drink, please? I’m parched.”

What followed was a few minutes of shuffling and giggling, which felt wonderful when pressed up against each other, but finally ended with Dean on his side and you on your back next to him. You took a few swallows of your vodka and coke, proud not to have spilled any on yourself, then offered it to him.

While he finished it off, you snagged the bowl of grapes and popped a few in your mouth, bursting the small pieces of fruit between your teeth and enjoying the sharp sweet taste that flooded your mouth as a result.

Dean smiled down at you—maybe at your enjoyment, maybe at just having you beneath him after having just made love with you, but it was a beautiful expression on his face.

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?

You pressed a grape to his lips and he opened his mouth to take it in, kissing your fingertips in the process.

It was a sweet moment, and you remembered that first night with him, when you wondered if it could ever get better.

“Will you go with me, Y/N?” He was holding his breath, and you could feel the tension creep into his body.

You didn’t know what to say.

“I know I have no right to ask, but I’m asking anyway. I don’t want to be without you, and I can’t walk away from this life—I’ve tried before, and it never works. So… will you go with me? Will you stay with me?”

It wasn’t a declaration of everlasting love, and it wasn’t a perfect moment—the lounge wasn’t built for two people, the night air was getting positively cold as the sweat dried on your bodies, and you hadn’t been with him long enough to make this decision—but he’d asked. And you had to answer.

So, you went with your gut. It’s who you were.

“Yes, Dean.”

One Month Later

The bunker was your home now, and while moving in with Dean had created a few small problems, so far, you had been glad you’d gone with your gut.

Sam was becoming a close friend, their angelic friend/brother Castiel was odd and growing on you, and you’d even bonded with Mary, their oddly young mother. As for Dean….

If you hadn’t been completely in love with him a year ago, you certainly were now. You worried about him when you were at work at the nearby hospital, when he was on a hunt, when he woke up from nightmares from a life of killing nightmares.

But you also got to see him happy—the way he kissed you at night, the way he cooked for you, always making sure to have coffee in the kitchen for you—the way his eyes would look into yours, or the way he would study you when he thought you were sleeping, as if you were the most precious thing he had ever seen.

And here you were, standing beside the bathroom counter and waiting for a little stick of paper to change your life again. Dean was pacing outside the door—not that he’d wanted to, but because you’d asked him to. You’d needed a minute. This most important minute.

It was another one of those moments—the kind that changed everything.

Were the two of you ready to become parents?

And if you were going to be, ready or not—if that little test that you were avoiding looking at turned positive… how did you feel about that? How would Dean feel about that?

A large part of you was terrified—for all the same reasons that Dean was scared to come back to you. This wasn’t a life for family, and any Winchester child would be a target, and what the hell did you know about raising a kid anyway?

You knew Dean felt the same way with you there.

And you knew that Dean loved you, even though he was hesitant to use the words out loud. He’d whispered it to you at night, when he was holding you and watching you sleep, or he’d sometimes cry it out in passion as he reached climax with you in the bed you shared each night.

So maybe you’d both be fine. You had each other—you had his family, and they’d all been quick to welcome you for Dean’s sake.

Your watch beeped. The time had come.

You took a deep breath and made a decision—Dean had respected your need for a minute, even though you knew the suspense had to be killing him. If you were pregnant, then he had an equal part in that, and if you weren’t…well, he should know that right away too.

You grabbed the test without looking, then walked out of the bathroom and found Dean standing there, his face anxious.

“Well? Are you—we--?”

You handed him the test strip, then smiled at him.

“I’ve got no idea. I figured we should look together.”

Dean flashed you a worried smile, then flipped the little plastic cover over for the both of us to see.

The screen was clear—Yes +.

“Dean….” You took the test back, your hand moving without any conscious decision telling it to do so.

You tore your eyes away when you saw his hand move, his fingers trembling as they came to rest ever so gently on your stomach.

Have you ever been touched so gently, you had to cry.

You felt the tears brimming on your eyelids as you finally met Dean’s gaze—the wonder in his expression was overwhelming. His touch, so gentle, so protective and reverent as he stroked you through your silk nightshirt was everything you could have hoped for.

As the first tears started to slide down your cheeks, he brought up his other hand, brushing them away with his thumb, then drawing you close and kissing them away.

“Shh, Sugar. It’s going to be great. You are going to be an amazing mom, and I love you so much. I am always going to love you.”

You smiled, leaning back so he could see that your tears were happy ones.

“I know, Dean. And I love you too—so much.

“I just…there’s so much going on in my head right now. I’m scared, and I’m happy, and I’m worried, and God, I love you, but we’ve only been back together for a month, and have you ever felt this way?”

Dean chuckled pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

“No, Sugar, never. But we’ll figure it out together.”

You melted into his arms and soaked up his solid warmth and comfort. You gripped the test strip in your hand and mumbled your agreement into your lover’s shoulder.

“Together.”

Thanks to the lovely feedback from everyone, I continued this fic to a super fluffy sequel. I hope you choose to keep reading! 

“Have You, Forever”

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[queseraone]

Maybe One Day - Part 8

A collection of one-shots of Jay Halstead as a dad. Because we all need that in our lives. Co-written with @halsteadpd

When canon gives you lemons, you make fluff…

Catch up here.

Jay and Erin had developed a perfect system so that one of them would be always be around when their kids were out of school—they were adamant about being hands-on parents. Ever the early riser, Jay would go into the district early, while Erin got the kids up and ready for school and daycare. In turn, Jay’s shift would typically end his day in time to pick them up. At least that was their system most days; when a case ran long or if they were undercover or on a raid, they relied on recently-retired ‘Grandpa Hank’ to watch their children.

Jay was always early to pick up the kids; he didn’t want to be the kind of parent whose children were left waiting in front of the school for a ride home. He parked the family SUV next to all the minivans outside the school and made his way toward the front entrance—Jay Halstead refused to drive a minivan—and waited just outside the doors, excited to see his children and hear how school was.

Ben was almost thirteen, and was in his last year of middle school; Zachary was eleven and Maddie was only eight, both still in elementary school. The school he and Erin chose ran from kindergarten to grade eight so it was still easy to drop off and pick up the three older kids all at once—Erin would typically swing by the daycare to pick their youngest up on her way home from the district.

Generally, the younger students were let out of class fifteen minutes earlier than the older ones, so Jay got a bit of extra time with Maddie. Every day the energetic little girl would burst through the doors with a smile on her face as she ran up to her father and jumped up into his arms. After kissing her cheek, Jay would ask about her day, and then they would wait hand-in-hand for Ben and Zach to follow. Zach was usually the next Halstead out the door, eager to see his father and tell him everything he had learned. Jay and Erin’s second son loved school, and most days they would find him sitting with his nose buried in a book. Ben, on the other hand, was much more carefree. He was at that age where he lingered in the halls to hang out with his friends—that was what he looked forward to most about going to school.

But that particular afternoon, Jay was surprised to see Ben burst through the doors first. Jay said hello to his oldest son, then asked Ben to take Maddie to wait in the car. Jay leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, glancing at his watch over and over as his concern grew with every minute he waited.

Finally Zach exited the building, slowly making his way over to Jay with his head hung low. He was wearing his red Blackhawks cap low on his face and carrying his glasses in his right hand. When Jay asked how his day was, Zach just shrugged his shoulders and walked quickly toward the parking lot.

“Zach!” Jay called his son’s name, jogging to catch up with him. When he got close enough, Jay reached out to grab hold of Zach’s arm. “Hey bud, what’s wrong?” He asked, his brows furrowed with concern. He crouched down in front of him so they were face to face and tried to look his son in the eye. When Jay lifted his hand to move Zach’s cap away, he noticed that the skin around his eye was red and swollen. Jay glanced down at Zach’s hand and saw that the boy’s glasses were broken. “Zach, what happened?”

“Nothing. Just got hurt in gym class.” He mumbled as he moved around his father and continued walking toward the car.

Jay sighed, running his hand through his hair as he stood up and followed his son. He had a feeling Zach wasn’t telling him the truth, but didn’t want to push the subject at the moment.

By the time Jay slid into the driver’s seat, both Ben and Maddie were talking animatedly about their days. Zach, on the other hand, was sitting in silence, staring intently out the window—Zach was certainly their quietest child, but this was unusual even for him. The ride home was silent, save for Maddie’s usual chatter. Jay glanced back at Zach in the rearview mirror every few minutes, but the boy kept his gaze focused out the window.

There was definitely something wrong.

When Erin got home after collecting their youngest from daycare, the three older kids were already sitting at the kitchen table finishing their homework. After handing their toddler off to her husband, Erin walked around the table to give each of them a kiss hello, immediately noticing Zach’s swollen eye. She glanced up at Jay, and before she could say a word about it, he shook his head at her, his eyes clearly telling her not to mention it.

Later that evening while Erin and Jay were cleaning up from dinner and the kids were watching a movie, Erin brought up the topic that had been on both of their minds all evening. “Jay, what happened to Zach’s eye?” She failed to hide the concern in her voice.

Jay sighed. “Well, he said it happened in gym class but…”

“But what? You don’t believe him?”

“No, not really. Just the way he sulked around and avoided eye contact threw me off. Not to mention his glasses were completely shattered.”

“Maybe we should try to talk to him later?” Erin approached Jay and wrapped her arms around his torso before standing on the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “Figure out what’s wrong? Who knows, maybe we’re blowing this out of proportion?”

“Yeah.” Jay murmured into her hair. “I hope so.”

Once their other three children were tucked in, Jay and Erin approached Zach’s bedroom. He was sitting upright, leaning his back against his headboard with a book in his hand. But without his glasses, he was obviously struggling to read the words. Jay rapped his knuckles on the open door to let Zach know they were coming in. “Hey buddy.” Jay’s voice was soft as he and Erin approached, carefully sitting on his bed. “Can we talk for a little bit?”

Zach nodded before closing his book and placing it next to his broken glasses on his bed side table.

“Baby, what happened at school today?” Erin asked, reaching her right hand to his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze and she rubbed her thumb across his skin.

Zach shrugged his shoulders, again avoiding eye contact with his parents. Jay picked up his glasses from the table before spotting some tape on Zach’s desk. He got up to grab it before returning to the bed, temporarily fixing the them as he handed them back to his son.

“Like I told Dad, it was a bad hit in gym class.” Zach cleaned the lenses with his t-shirt before placing them back on his face, wincing as the action put pressure on his swollen eye.

“Are you sure you’re okay? That looks like a pretty nasty bump.” Jay prodded, his voice gentle.

“I’m okay.” The eleven-year-old assured them.

“You know that you can come tell Dad or me anything, right?” Erin reminded him gently.

Jay jumped in to finish Erin’s sentence: “If there’s ever anything bothering you at school or at home, you can tell us. You’ll never get in trouble for telling us the truth.”

“Yeah… I’m okay though, I swear.” Jay and Erin exchanged a look of disappointment at Zach’s words, before turning to face him again.

“Okay then, bed time. You have school in the morning.” Jay said as he carefully removed Zach’s glasses from his face and kissed his forehead. Erin helped tuck him in before giving him her own kiss and turning off the lamp next to the bed.

“We love you baby.” Erin added as she followed Jay from the room.

When they were settled in their own bed, Jay noticed the concern written all over Erin’s face. “Hey, come here.” He reached out to her, pulling her into his arms.

“I’m really worried about him, Jay.” Erin snuggled into her husband’s embrace, nestling against his bare chest.

“Me too babe, me too.” Jay kissed the top of Erin’s head. “But he’ll talk to us when he’s ready. We can’t force it or he’ll never be comfortable coming to us again.”  

“I know, you’re right.” Erin sighed.

“You should know by now, I’m always right.” Jay chuckled. He could feel the vibrations of Erin’s own laughter against his chest.

“You’re an idiot, but I love you.”

“Love you too babe.” Jay kissed her again and it wasn’t long before they were both sound asleep.

A few days later, Intelligence was working a high profile case. Jay’s cell phone rang while they were at a crime scene, and his heart dropped when he recognized the number—it was the kids’ school. He quickly excused himself from the group to take the call, his jaw clenched as he listened to the principal request that either he or Erin come to the school immediately.

“Who was that?” Erin when he caught up with the group.

“It was Ms. Danvers, from the kids’ school—Zach got into a fight.” Jay grumbled.

“What?! You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Jay snapped, anger and frustration evident in his voice. “I can’t believe this! Of all the kids I might have expected this call for Ben, but not Zach!” He ran his fingers across his forehead before continuing. “I need to go down there. Can you tell Antonio? I’ll call you as soon as I know what happened.” When Voight retired a few years earlier, Antonio Dawson had been promoted to run Intelligence.

“Yeah… Jay, take it easy okay?” Erin implored, her hand moving to his chest to try to calm him.

“No promises.” Jay replied as he turned away from his wife and walked towards the car, the badge hung around his neck swung back and forth with every step he took.

Jay took a few deep breaths before walking into the school, trying to relieve some of the frustration coursing through his body. They had spent so much time teaching the kids about the repercussions or consequences that could arise from fighting at school, but evidently, that lesson went through one ear and out the other for one Halstead.

As he made his way toward the office, Jay could see Zach waiting in one of the chairs, holding an icepack against his now black and blue eye. When Zach turned to look at his father, Jay ignored the fearful look that crossed his son’s face; Jay’s gaze landed on the split lip Zach was sporting instead.

“Mr. Halstead?” A woman from behind the desk called when she noticed his presence. Jay turned to the woman, his hands on his hips, badge swinging at the motion.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Ms. Danvers will see you and Zach in her office now.”

Jay turned his head to look down at Zach, quickly muttering a ‘let’s go’ and following his son into the office. He noticed another boy around Zach’s age sitting in one of the chairs alongside a large man who Jay assumed was the kid’s father. The other boy’s face was reddening around his nose and there were still tears in his eyes. A quick glance down at Zach’s red fist answered Jay’s question of whether or not Zach had hurt anyone.

As they made their way into the principal’s office, Jay noticed that the other boy and his father got up to follow them.

Ms. Danvers was sitting behind her desk, typing away on her computer. When she noticed the four men enter the room, she waved her hand toward the chairs opposite her desk. “Mr. Halstead, Mr. Duncan, please sit down.” Once they were seated, she continued. “As you were informed over the phone, there was an incident earlier today between Zachary and Brett. A teacher caught them fighting in the hall after lunch.”

Jay turned to face Zach, shooting him a stern look.

“There’s no way my son was fighting! Look at his nose, he’s clearly the victim here!” The other father, Mr. Duncan, was quick to interject, pointing in Zach’s direction. “Obviously this kid started it!” Jay noticed in his periphery that Zach seemed to cower at the accusation.

“Mr. Duncan we aren’t sure who instigated the fight. Both boys were involved and that’s grounds for suspension.”

“My boy isn’t getting suspended for what this other kid did!” The father glanced down at Jay’s badge before speaking again. “Clearly the kid learned it from his bitch cop of a father.”

“Mr. Duncan I’m going to have to ask you to watch your language.” Ms. Danvers warned.

“Excuse me?!” Jay couldn’t hold back the anger in his voice as he rose from his chair, arms at his side, his hands clenched tightly into fists. “Say that again and we’ll see who the real bitch is!”

“Mr. Halstead, please calm down.” The principal’s voice shook as she looked between the two men.

“Sorry. Just give me the suspension letter so we can get out of here.” Jay took a seat again and shot his son another dirty look. Zach kept his head down, his eyes focused on his hands in his lap.

Neither Jay nor Zach spoke the entire way home; Jay was livid and he didn’t want to say something he might regret later.

When they got home, Zach slowly followed his father into the house. Jay scrubbed his palm across his face and sighed before finally addressing his son. “Zach, go to your room.” Jay glanced at his watch and sighed again before pulling his phone from his pocket to call Erin like he’d promised.

“Hey babe, what happened?” Somehow just hearing Erin’s voice on the other end of the line had Jay feeling calmer about the situation.

“So apparently our son punched another kid in the nose.”

“What the hell?! There’s no way Zach would do that!”

“Well he did. And now he’s suspended.”

“Where is he right now?”

“I sent him to his room, we just got home. Ugh, Erin, I’m so disappointed I can’t even look at him right now. ”

Erin sighed at the other end of the line. “Okay, well we’re wrapping up here pretty soon, so I can pick the kids up on my way home.”

“Thanks babe.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he continued. “I guess I should go try to talk to him.”

“Jay, please don’t be too hard on him. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“You too.”

When Jay hung up the phone he took a moment to compose himself and gather his thoughts before venturing upstairs to Zach’s room. The door was open slightly so he peeked his head inside; he was met by the sight of his son crying into his pillow and it broke his heart.

“Zach?” He called softly. The little boy continued to sniffle in his pillow, ignoring his father. Jay approached his son and sat down beside him, reaching his arm out to run his hand down Zach’s back. “Buddy, I need you to look at me.” It took a few moments for Zach to calm down enough to turn to face Jay. “What’s wrong?” Jay asked gently, continuing to rub his son’s back.

Zach shook his head before burying his face back into his pillow.

“I need you to talk to me. You aren’t going to get in trouble for telling the truth, okay?” Zach nodded his head but didn’t speak so Jay decided on asking him more questions. “Did you punch that boy at school today?” Zach nodded again. “Why would you do something like that? We’ve talked about this.”

Zach sat up and shrugged his shoulders.

“Come on, buddy, tell me what happened. Please.”

“B-Brett makes fun of me.” Zach sniffed, his voice so soft Jay could barely hear him. “H-he calls me a n-nerd and laughs at m-my glasses. H-he says I’m a l-loser.” With his confession, Zach burst into tears again, this time burying his face in his father’s shoulder.

Jay’s heart broke as he pulled Zach into his lap, wrapping his arms around the little boy. It absolutely gutted him to see Zach hurting so much. “Buddy, you could have come to me about this earlier, I would have helped you, I would have protected you.”

“B-but Brett said I-I couldn’t tell anyone.” Zach said, still sobbing into his father’s chest, his tears soaking Jay’s shirt.

“That’s just something bullies say so they don’t get in trouble. If anyone ever says something like that they’re just trying to scare you.” Jay rocked back and forth with Zach in his lap, hoping to calm his son.

“I’m sorry.” Zach mumbled quietly. “I know I shouldn’t have punched him. But I just wanted him to stop.”

“It’s alright, just don’t do it again okay? Come to me and Mom the next time you need help with something.” Jay ran his fingers through his son’s hair, noticing that he was beginning to fall asleep. “How about you take a little nap? You look tired.” Jay got up from the bed before tucking Zach under the sheets. He gently kissed his son’s forehead and sat back down on the bed, waiting for him to fall asleep. His thumb rubbed softly across the bruise around Zach’s eye, a feeling of guilt overcoming him. Jay felt terrible for not being to protect his little boy, and even worse for getting so angry.

As Zach’s breathing grew heavier, Jay heard the back door open and close. Excited voices travelled through the house and he heard Erin coming up the stairs. When she popped her head into the room a moment later, Jay nodded at her, signalling that they should go talk. Jay leaned down and kissed Zach’s forehead one more time before following his wife to their bedroom.

Jay closed the door behind himself, moving to sit beside Erin on their bed. “Fuck Erin. I just… how did I miss it. He got pushed around at school but I never noticed anything unusual about him. Fuck, what kind of father am I?

Erin reached out and pressed her palm flat against Jay’s chest, an action that always calmed him down when he was on edge. “The best.”

“My Dad, he, uh, he never noticed this kind of shit with Will and me. He was always busy either watching TV or drinking the night away. I used to come home with bruises all over me and he never said a damn word. I vowed I’d never be like him and look at me!”

“Jay. Stop.” Erin moved her hand from his chest to caress his face. “You are an amazing father. You’re nothing like your dad. Our kids basically think you hung the damn moon!”

The two were interrupted by a knock on the door before Maddie excitedly ran into the room. “Daddy!!!! I missed you!”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

“Could you please make us a snack?”

Erin pulled her lower lip between her teeth to bite back a laugh. She raised her brow at Jay as if to say ‘see, told you so’.

“Of course I can.” Jay peppered kisses all over Maddie’s face as he threw her over his shoulder. She giggled wildly as he carried her out of the room.

When Jay woke the next morning, he made two phone calls—one to Antonio to make arrangements to take the day off, and the other to Zach’s school to give the principal a piece of his mind.

After Erin left with the other three kids, Jay called Zach to come help him clean up the kitchen from breakfast. They stood side-by-side, Jay washing the dishes, and Zach drying them. Once everything was put away, Jay wiped his hands on his jeans and suggested they go sit in the living room.

“What are we going to do Dad?” Zach asked once he was seated beside Jay on the couch.

“I thought we could watch a movie?” Jay offered, beckoning for Zach to come cuddle up with him as he switched on the TV. “What do you say?”

“Star Wars?”

Jay chuckled—Zach was so much like him it was kind of scary. “Sure thing buddy.”

They spent the rest of the day together, taking the occasional break from their movie marathon to talk about things happening at school or play Zach’s favourite game, chess. At one point Jay noticed Zach wincing in pain as he rubbed his swollen eye, so he went into the kitchen to grab him an icepack and told him to rest for a little bit.

Later that afternoon, as Jay and Zach were putting on their jackets to go pick up the other kids, Zach suddenly wrapped his arms around his father’s waist.

“Hey.” Jay spoke softly as he knelt down to face his son, moving to pull the little boy into his arms. “What was that for?”

“Thank you Dad, you’re the best.” Zach murmured into Jay’s chest. “I love you.”

Tears clouded Jay’s vision as he pressed his nose into his son’s hair, whispering into his ear: “I love you too, buddy.”

[serzhantkris]

Something Worth Fighting For- 5

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice. Third installment of the Worth Fighting For Series

Words: 2293

Warnings: Language, as always. Canon violence.

Masterlist   Part 4

“So, you like cats?”

Wedged in the back seat of the van, you stared hard at the floor at your shoes. Sam on your right, Steve on your left, you were trying to ignore the deep sense of dread bubbling in your stomach. Jaw clenched tight, you were unaware of their bickering as the van rocked back and forth, toward your destination. Where, you weren’t sure. Prison, if you were lucky.

“How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?” T’Challa’s voice rang in the back of your head, his voice quiet but so loud inside your head.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was soft in your ear and he nudged you with his shoulder, trying to get your attention. “What you did back there…”

“They’re not gonna let me get away with it,” you mumbled. “Whatever they do to you won’t be half as bad what they do to me. I- I hate to see what they do to Bucky.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Sam mumbled, glancing down at you, but his gaze swiftly landed on the back of T’challa’s head in front of him. “Your boy’s alive, we count that as a win for now.”

“Sam’s right. We’re not goin’ down without a fight.”

Nodding, you attempted a smile at both boys, leaning further back against the seat behind you. Steve glanced out the window, watching the city flash by. “I signed the papers,” you said, leaning a head on Steve’s shoulder. He frowned down at you, exchanging a look with Sam. “I signed them and now that I finally know where Bucky is-”

“You can rest easy knowing he’s safe,” Steve concluded. You sighed, eyes closing, and nodded. At least there was that.

The truck stopped just as you were starting to doze off, the doors sliding open to reveal the garage around you. Steve stepped out first, offering you a hand as you blinked against the offending lights. Sam kept close behind you, his shoulder touching yours. It was a comfort, both of them, knowing that despite the fact that you had signed the Accords they were still your friends. That they would protect you; just as you’d do for them.

Steve was looking somewhere behind you and you turned, following his gaze, heart dropping to your stomach when you saw the massive cage. Inside was Bucky, sitting in a chair with his head back, arms and legs strapped down, shackled over his shoulders, thick glass separating you. He looked at you for a moment, tongue darting to lick his lips, and you wanted nothing more than to run to his side.

But it wasn’t an option. Not here, not now. There had to be something you could do, anything, but your only choice now was to wait. To follow Steve and Sam and King T’challa toward where the four of you would be placed until further notice.

“What’s gonna happen to him?”

Steve stopped and you bumped into him, not paying attention. Startled, you peered around his shoulder as Sam gripped your elbow. You recognized the blonde woman, an Agent of Shield, but not the man beside her. His hair combed back, a startling grey that matched his suit, his lips tugged into a sharp, condescending smile. Agent Carter, the blonde woman, introduced him as Everett Ross. Even the way he walked, stalking in front of you, further into the depths of the massive glass building, you knew immediately that you did not like him.

Psych evaluation. Extradition. Something weighed your limbs so heavy, Steve had to lace his fingers with yours to keep you moving forward.

“You’ll be provided with an office, instead of a cell. Do me a favor, stay in it,” Ross directed at Steve, eyes sharp. His gaze flickered to you over his shoulder and his mouth set in a hard line. “You on the other hand, do you have any idea what you’ve just started?”

“That’s enough,” a voice ahead of you made Ross turn back around, his jaw clenched. Natasha came toward you, flashing you a knowing, sad smile before she strode up to Steve, talking quietly to him. Swallowing, you waited as Ross opened the next set of doors.

Tony’s voice was the first thing you heard once inside. On the phone to someone, Secretary Ross if you had to guess, he gave you a hard look as you entered. “You bet there’ll be consequences,” he was saying. He hung up a minute later, shoving the phone in his pocket.

“Consequences?”

“Secretary Ross wants all three of you prosecuted,” Tony shrugged. “Had to give him something.” He paused in front of you for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours before his voice dropped to a low, warning tone. “You and I are going to have a long discussion later.”

His threat went ignored as he and Natasha stalked out of the room as they tossed comments back and forth with Steve and Sam. You, on the other hand, were too busy trying to unmuddle the day’s events in your head to pay attention. Too worried about what they were doing to Bucky; about what would happen to him now. Too concerned with trying to decipher why and how Bucky was being framed- or if he had been telling the truth at all.

The offices you were left in had glass walls, separating you from Steve and Sam, from Tony and Natasha, with thin veils that did little beyond muffling voices. From where you sat, curled in an office chair at a long wooden table, you could see Tony and Steve conversing. There was a pen in Steve’s hand as he paced back and forth, exchanging words with Tony.

Tony looked up as you were staring at him, the rich brown of his eyes somehow making you feel guilty as he watched you through the glass. Your lips twitched as you tried to form something of a smile, but he looked away as Steve said something else. Even though you could be seen through the walls, even though you could see everyone around you as they struggled to fix whatever they thought Bucky had done, you felt alone. You were isolated from them. Was this how Bucky felt, in that cage, surrounded by thick panes of bulletproof glass, metal holding him to his seat, cameras watching his every move?

Beyond the glass, several screens showcased the view of the cell where Bucky was waiting to be interrogated. There was no sound in the room you were being held in, but you could see Bucky, his head back against the seat. His shoulders tense under his well-worn red Henley. You knew that shirt- it smelled like Italian coffee and shaving cream. The knit fabric was deceptively thin, you could feel his muscles under it.

How long it had been, since your hands slid beneath, grazing up the muscles of his chest, you could not say.

The glass door slid open as you stared at the screen, at Bucky’s jaw as his teeth pressed hard at his molars. Without looking, you knew who’d entered the room. His walk was like his father’s. His smell, the way he sank slowly and heavily into the chair- the fact that he sat in the exact chair you knew his father would have chosen: the one directly across the table from you.

“Tony,” you greeted flatly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He messes with the red tie around his neck a moment, staring down at it, using it to distract himself. Turning, you finally tear your eyes from the image of Bucky beyond the glass and look at Tony, at the deep lines in his face, around his eyes, and a pang of sadness hits you square in the chest.

“Ross won’t let up on this,” he says. “He’s counting on me to deliver some serious consequences to you and your boys over there. You especially.”

“For breaking the contract,” you nod, folding your hands over your chest. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

“You don’t seem too upset about it.” Tony sits forward, eyeing you with suspicion. “I honestly don’t understand you. You and I, we never saw eye to eye, but this- you have invented a new kind of stupid. A damage you can never undo kind of stupid.”

“I signed that paper before I knew Bucky was going to get involved, Stark.”

Tony glanced past you, up at the screens on the wall outside the glass doors. “Barnes killed innocent people.”

“And you never have?” Your retort startles Tony, and then his face mimics Bucky’s. Cold. Jaw tight. But there’s anger there that isn’t in Bucky’s features, along with something else you can’t quite place. “You know that he’s always going to come first, Tony. For me and for Steve. We always choose him.”

“Why?” Tony’s voice drops and he leans closer, almost whispering at you, genuine concern or confusion, something in that little divot between his eyebrows. “You’ve been alive for almost a hundred years and you knew that man- you knew Sergeant Barnes for, what, maybe five years? Five years out of a hundred, that’s- that’s nothing-”

“Bucky isn’t nothing,” you hiss, palms slamming on the table between you. Tony doesn’t jump, doesn’t move at all, still staring at you like he’s trying to see an optical illusion. “I owe him my life, and there’s more to this than either of us can piece together right now-”

“You’re going to throw everything away because you think this guy is innocent? This isn’t high school-”

“You can’t just make assumptions, you don’t even know him!”

“Do you?” At his question, you fall silent, mouth open in protest. There’s an anger, something uncontrollable, waiting to explode from your chest, waiting for the fuse to be lit. And Tony’s held up a candle, the heat burning your face, but you’re frozen. The fuse won’t light. “Is he the same man you knew, or are you just holding on because you’re still too scared to admit that you lost him in 1945?”

When a person freezes to death, the first thing to go is their limbs. The body stops pumping blood through fingers and toes, through hands and feet, through arms. The heart, the brain, they stay protected as long as the body can keep itself warm.

When Tony’s words hit, they hit like a violent, freezing wind. Your fingers go numb. Your veins are blue and it feels like you’re frozen to the chair, waiting for the blood to stop pumping to your heart. He realizes this, too, his face falling. The fight falls when the muscles in his cheeks stop clenching his jaw together, when his eyebrows relax and his eyes suddenly weigh down.

“You’re right,” you mumble, pushing the chair back from the table. You don’t stand, even though you want to. Your legs are ice. “You’re right, he’s not the same man he used to be. And yeah, I’m scared. But I’m not the same woman I used to be either. But Bucky thought I was worth fighting for. So I’m fighting for him, too.”

Tony stares another moment, eyes flickering over your face, before they move past you, to the screen over your shoulder. Turning, you finally stand when you see that Bucky is speaking. Tony stands, meandering slowly toward the door and, as he goes, presses the button on a console and you can hear what he’s saying.

“My name is Bucky.”

“Don’t say I never did you any favors,” he mumbles, the door sliding closed behind him.

In the adjoining room, you catch Steve’s eye. There’s something about his face that catches you off guard. Something was happening. Something very bad.

“Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?”

Steve turns, says something to Sharon and Sam. Moving toward the door, you vaguely wonder how thick the glass is. How many kicks it would take to break the lock.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Looking at the camera, at the psychologist interviewing Bucky, you realize what Steve is mouthing at you from the next room. It’s a set-up.

The psychologist, he sits up, takes his glasses off. “We only have to talk about one.”

Sirens blare through the room. The lights dim until the emergency fluorescents are the only source. Commander Ross starts yelling at someone to fix the power. Without hesitating, your boot heel slams into the lock and the glass door shakes, nearly shattering as the lock falls to pieces on the ground.

Sam and Steve are already running for the stairs, several footsteps echoing against tile as you follow them. Sharon Carter rushes past you, going the other way. Natasha and Tony head for the other exit, Tony pushing a pair of retrotech glasses on his face. Your heart leaps to your throat as you slide on the floor, pumping your arms and legs as the three of you rush toward the interrogation rooms.

When you get there, it’s silent. The alarms have stopped blaring. Bodies litter the ground, unconscious or dead, you can’t tell which. The unmistakable sense of dread swells through your veins, more fire than ice, and it’s Steve who finds the psychologist on the floor.

“Get up.” Grabbing him by the front of the shirt, Steve yanks him to his feet. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man only smiles, says five words. “To see an empire fall.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than crashing echoed behind you and you spun, just in time to spot the red Henley- in the darkness, the flashing lights, it looks blood red- as Bucky grabs Sam by his jaw and hurls him across the room.

[cutegirlmayra]

You know what I really love? Forehead kisses, like touching each other's foreheads. I find that so romantic and deeper compared to actual kisses :3 can you write some Sonamy forces angst where they do that?~ please?

I love this~ I was just trying to think how to make it more in character… then I got this idea~ ^^

(x)

Prompt:

“Wait!”

Amy outstretched her hand, desperately trying to hold back what she wanted to say.“You’re… You’re going to fight him… aren’t you?”

She steadily walked forward, withdrawing her hand as she saw him give her at least the decency to stop and wait to hear her out.

He lowered his head, before she noticed the small nodding gesture within his next few movements.

Her eyes widened, feeling betrayed.

“You swore to us!” she narrowed her eyes, before leaning forward and stumbling in her awkward walk closer to him. “You said you wouldn’t do it alone..!”

She held a fist by her side, shaking to lift it up and say more, but swished her head back and walked away, unable to truly comprehend this ‘stab in the back’ so to speak.

It was the dead of night, he was sneaking off again…

A lone hero to face his devils alone…

She shook her head, “You said you needed us… that we were family…” her eyes traced the sky line for a glimmer of hope, but with all the destruction in the world, and now Sonic’s refusal to stay back any longer,…

No stars shined that night to give her any amount of comfort.

“Amy…”

She heard his voice, but didn’t see the blurry image behind her, turning his head over his shoulder as she began to start disciplining herself to not sound like she was crying.

She bounced her head to try and muffle the sounds that threatened to escape her lips.

Sucking on the lower one to keep it together, she raised her head and let a shaky breath escape her opened mouth.

“I can’t lose you.. I never could and even now… I know that I couldn’t live without you, Sonic!”

She spun around, having heard quiet footsteps before ramming into his chest and letting small cries of hopelessness escape her lips.

“You promised me! … You promised everyone…” Her voice seemed to lose the battle of hope within her…

She knew she couldn’t stop him from doing what he felt was right.

But she just hated the thought of him going alone.

Suffering alone.

Being alone.

The camera pulled away to show the two in the distance, but not too far off to see Sonic lift his arm, and slowly pull her into a deeper embrace, letting his head hang over her shoulder.

She hiccuped in her tears, before leaning her head up into the crook of his own shoulder and neck…

“I…” she could barely speak the words now, all will to keep going suddenly draining from her. “I don’t… want a future where you’re…” she looked away, as if unable to even imagine it.

She ducked her head down and shook it, forcing him slightly to move away a moment.

Her hands lightly tensed on his chest, as if refusing to let him go.

“I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you!”

“….Amy.” he tried to reach a hand up, but she shook her head, sealing her eyes shut to try and force her tears into a barricaded wall of denial.

“I know I can’t stop you… no one can.”

He watched her more tenderly, holding his hand back but not lowering it, intentively listening to each breath and word she uttered in her worried pain…

“But.. you should at least know that…”

She sniffed as she looked up to him, wet eyes; glossy with the look of a lover’s sorrow within them. A care deeper than Sonic could possibly imagine…

Or hope to comprehend.

“I will always stand by you. But I can’t always stand by your decisions..” She lowered her head and shook it, as Sonic’s neutral look suddenly turned to a gentle, and charming smile.

His hand now felt free to act and move as it graced her cheek, rubbing it softly as it caught some of the falling tears and encouraged her to look up again.

Her eyes half open from the crying, she could still faintly see his eyes shining from the moon peeking through the gloomy, grey clouds up ahead.

“You’re certainly strong, Amy. And I’ve always admired that about you.” He spoke boldly, which surprised Amy a bit, as she adjusted her footing and looked into each one of his eyes.

She had never experienced this kind of tender treatment by him before, and it surprised her, but left her a little curious, even if the comfort was sudden, it was immediately welcomed as she leaned into his hand, and stepped forward.

He watched her lean and his smile turned to a nervous and even slightly awkward one, though it never moved, just… decided to stay still and motionless on her face now.

She leaned her head up to hear the rest, seeing she had caused him to stop by her actions of simply listening and gaining strength from his touch.

“…Eh-heh.” he gave her a pretty funny look, like her actions of affection were weird to him.

“I especially like how you won’t let me get away with silly things.” he smiled genuinely again, continuing. “But I need you to be stronger for me now. I need you to trust me more than ever before.”

He suddenly seemed to take courage, stepping up to meet her toe-to-toe, causing her to want to look down before his other hand graced the opposite side of her face, meaning he now had both hands…..

On the sides of her face.

This left her unable to look anywhere but at his daring… straight-forward… dashing eyes.

“You once said I never needed to fear.” he began, “Can I say that you never need to doubt?”

His words suddenly sent a soaring sensation through her whole being, and her heart caught the wave and almost sang as it spiraled through it, and in return, it pumped it throughout her whole body.

She almost sighed, if it weren’t for the fact her sudden nerves made her hands come up to his own, and her eyes drop to shut out any further stimuli.

This was becoming almost addicting… hearing him comfort her.

She felt a soft ‘heh.’ escape Sonic’s nose right onto her muzzle, and realized as she gently opened her eyes part way that he thought her silence must have been funny.

He really, honestly… felt it was a cute response.

Still a bit weird though.

He lowered her head and placed his own forehead to hers, smiling before he breathed out a sigh and let silence carry a communication that could only be felt in the roaming atmosphere, and not heard.

In her closed eyes, she felt a soft rub and press against where she thought his forehead to be, and felt her breath catch for some unknown reason, but her heart kept beating from the bubbles fizzing up within her.

Her body seemed to impulsively scrunch up, her smile breaking through her fear and sorrow, as her shoulders raised as if trying to meet the sensation and hold onto it for a little longer…

Her eyes gently opened slightly then, seeing Sonic’s head lower from being raised up to her head.

“…Amy…” he finally broke that moment of silence, though Amy’s eyes lingered open a second longer, before shutting at his soft whisper, knowing this was his way of departing without goodbye.

“Don’t go...” she breathed out, “Please…”

He smirked, his lip curling on one side before pulling away, having his eyes close for a moment too…

But thought it best to not let it linger… after all, he needed to convince Amy to let him go, not stir anyone else awake, and…

Well, and not let this get more awkward and weird.

He lowered one hand and kept the other to the side, turning his body, showing he was about to go.

The stare of confidence was enough for Amy to know.

This was so long,… till next time we meet.

“Sonic…” she held a hand up to his own on her side before he let it slowly slip and fall… her hands instinctively, but lightly moved with the same cautious speed to lightly grip his own and hold him there a second longer.

His facial expression never changed, as he slowly started to move away.

The camera zoomed close on his profile, stepping out of the shot.

Next his enclosed, sheltered hand…. which slowly found it’s way out of the haven Amy had created for it, and into the cold, still wind of the night.

He kept his eyes fixed on hers, and as if under a illusion, Amy kept hers hypnotically on his.

His figure turned…

She stepped forward.

“No…”

He started to get ready to run.

“Please…”

She felt her body falling forward.

“Don’t….”

Her hand outstretched, as his back leg lift up from the ground.

Her eyes teared up and gushed out the contained water in globs by the sides of her face, just above the muzzle.

“Sonic…!”

(I think that was pretty canon, if I do say so myself~ -sits a little taller, before I see SEGA’s judgey eyes and sits submissively back into a hunch.-…. you know you ship it.)

[canvaswolfdoll]

CanvasWatches: The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan

In the fine tradition of the Franchise and also my viewing of it, we’re skipping Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya[1] and moving straight to The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan, which inexplicably maintains the name order for the title.

I am often confused by Japanese names in media that’s been localized. Character names are often obvious, because speech and grammar and context makes it clear whether its the given name or family name being used by the speaker, but I’m not always clear with credits. Do publishers switch the author’s name on the book, or do they maintain it?[2]

I’m not actually sure how I want names ordered in dubs, while we’re going through this tangent. I view both arguments (Accuracy to the original text vs. Approachability to new audiences) as largely equal, so as long as the text maintains consistency, I’m satisfied.[4]

However, the actual show switches the names, making it inconsistent with the title. Poor showing, Funimation.

As for the subject of today's review, the conclusion is: I liked it! Maybe one should view it as a continuation on the rest of Haruhi Suzumiya to better catch the jokes and nods, but it’s not necessary.

Onto the analysis! (Spoilers for all of Haruhi Suzumiya, though I will try and avoid major plot points not in Yuki-chan itself.)

Right off the bat, Yuki-Chan fixes the greatest sin committed by the original source material: Yuki gets to keep her glasses!

Let there be rejoicing! Yay! Woo!

In fact, glasses are used as a subtle narrative device, making them a required prop.

The anime is adapted by a comic written by Puyo, who also created the Haruhi-chan comics that were adapted into animation themselves. Haruhi-chan was an extensively goofy version of the Haruhi canon, and includes its own ongoing interpretation of the plot and characters.

Yuki-chan sits in a comfortable midpoint between realistic and cartoonish, with a good balancing of tone, and brings elements from both Haruhi-chan and Nagaru Tanigawa’s source novels. The comedy’s good, the drama’s good, and it flows well between them.

The setting itself comes from one of my favorite ways to find inspiration: looking at the throw-away details of other narratives, and exploring the logical extreme.

In this case, what is it like in the other world created for The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya?[5] What stories can be told when you grab Haruhi, strip her of god powers, and set her over there, and settle everyone else into normal human forms?

This is an exercise I think writers should take more often. It’s a common trope in fanfiction for a reason.[6] Stories are often built from extraordinary people in extraordinary circumstances, but good characterization should prevail even if you take away the magic and monsters, and set everyone in a coffee shop. How do Yuki and Kyon get along when they aren’t saving the world?

And, more interestingly, who is Yuki when she’s no longer a Humanoid Interface for the Data Overmind?[7] Because it’s equally valuable to consider what changes when you remove elements from characters.

What does change is Yuki becomes the shy, bookish (well, video game playing) girl that would be her common trope. But she’s also oddly voracious in regards to food, and has her share of quirky behaviors to match those of, say, Tsuruya.

This version of Yuki is also notably the first Moe character to actually appeal to me. I am invested in Yuki, and want her to succeed!

Because one of the opening conceits is a lack of Haruhi, (at least initially. Ms. Suzumiya does, of course, always find a way) Yuki’s literary club doesn’t get forcibly hijacked into the SOS Brigade, though it is at risk of closure due to lack of members. Also, as a nice meta gag, the production team’s name has been switch from ‘SOS Brigade’ in the closing credits to ‘North High Literary Club’.[7]

When we open the series, only Yuki and Kyon from the original cast are immediately present, along with Ryoko Asakura, who originally only existed long enough to attack Kyon with a knife and be deleted by Yuki, so as to show off what sort of power and danger Yuki and her contingent presents.

Since there is no Data Mind, Ryoko gets to be a main character, and thus act as a major change to the dynamics we’re used to. She’s a lower energy member of the ‘enactors’ end of the cast. Motivated by her friendship by Yuki, and a caring individual, she is still one of the few characters able to stand toe to toe with Haruhi without risk of being swept up into something against her will.

Her element of wackiness, however, is gleefully displayed during the first episode when, while shopping for the Literary Club’s Christmas Party, the trio encounters Mikuru and Tsuruya, to continue making the most of characters that didn’t get to fully shine during Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, and someone needs to be pushing Mikuru into situations.

Tsuruya and Ryoko begin pitting Yuki and Mikuru against one another for Kyon’s affections, before competing against one another directly, forming a friendship, and pretty much enlisting Tsuruya and Mikuru into the literary club.

Luckily, Mikuru is allowed out of the love triangle for this story. She’s still the soft spoken eye candy, but even that element’s toned down. Honestly, Mikuru could’ve been cut without making much difference, but we do need the full brigade eventually.

No, this time the love triangle (still pointing into Kyon) is a fight between Yuki and Haruhi!

Haruhi rejoins the dynamic by leaping out of snow-covered bushes in a post-credits scene of episode two, then collapsing on the ground. In this reality, a lot of the big events remain, but the details are shifted so that fantastic elements are no longer required. Kyon was still present when Haruhi drew her message on school grounds, but he was present as his middle schooler self, it doesn’t lead to Haruhi’s god powers, and the lack of Future!Kyon means Haruhi isn’t inspired to go to North High, and instead enrolling at a Prep School stationed at the base of the hill.

It’s also notable that Haruhi attempted to recreate the event during the series, but this time it’s a ploy to capture Santa Claus[8], and drafted a passing Yuki into it. It takes both of them a while to realize this, as Yuki forgot her glasses, and it was dark at the time.

Obviously, Haruhi immediately sets about taking over the literary club, dragging in Itsumi (also at the Prep School, and hopelessly in love with Haruhi), closes the deal with recruiting Mikuru, and hits the other notes of the original canon.

However, this time Ryoko is there to prevent Haruhi totally running rampant. Which is likely for the best, since it’s supposed to be Yuki’s story. Which even Haruhi seems to realize at some level.

Because Haruhi’s clearly got a crush on Kyon, but he doesn’t remember the night in the courtyard. And, at the same time, Yuki’s very clearly interested (not that Kyon notices that either) and Ryoko makes it very clear that Yuki deserves her shot. After some Valentine's Day confusion, Haruhi pretty much silently concedes the competition to even the playing field with consideration of Yuki’s social anxiety.

The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-Chan could be divided into three arcs, following the interpersonal issues of three characters: Yuki, Other Yuki, and finally Kyon.

Yuki’s arc is more or less what I described above, as it also needs to introduce the cast. Yuki loves Kyon,[9] who is oblivious, because of course he is. Yuki has pretty severe Social Anxiety, however, and thus can not spit out her feelings, even while sharing a coat during a Christmas Party, or during Valentine's day, or during a club trip, even while being cheered on by the other club members.

Poor girl.

There’s the usual misunderstandings, fear of ruining a perfectly functional friendship, distractions by Ryoko and Haruhi, and plenty of ship teases.

Still, the stretch of episodes is filled with plenty of Haruhi-Chan style humor and chibified moments. I also found myself, in a rare instance, noticing the background music, which was all lovely.[10] It’s standard romance material, which isn’t a genre I usually seek out, so the first nine episodes were both fresh enough to me, and with well executed comedy.

Then, after the credits of episode Nine, Nagato is involved in a car accident. We don’t see the impact, so there’s just enough ambiguity not to make the audience question the results.

We do know Yuki’s glasses are knocked off and bent. Oh no!

But don’t worry, Yuki has a back up pair of glasses.

Also, she’s got some level of brain damage now, altering her personality to be very similar to the Yuki we know from past material. Thus enters Other Yuki. Marked by the slightly different glasses she wears.

Told you they’d be significant.

Thus we enter a more psychological and ponderous arc. Starting with an episode entitled ‘Someday in the Rain’.[11]

This Other Yuki has the memories of Yuki Nagato, of course, but feels a disconnect from them and her life from before the car accident. With that disconnect, her emotions are also gone, leaving a monotone and subdued character in. Her interests also turn from video games to books.

Or, in other terms, the Data Overmind Yuki. Though not really. I’ll come back to this.

She attempts to go undetected, living Yuki’s life, trying to leave it in the same shape as she found it.

Though it doesn’t work on her closest friend, as Ryoko asks ‘Who are you, and where is Yuki Nagato?’

Which is a very dramatic way to phrase that, Ryoko!

So, for a short spell, I theorised that maybe this is the Humanoid Interface Yuki stepping in for the period covered by Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya. However, they didn’t put in any other clues to that interpretation, and the healing process that gradually brings back Yuki makes it essentially untenable as a theory. This series is severed totally from the Prime Timeline.

Yuki explains her situation to Ryoko, who drags her to see a dang doctor, like, come on girl, that’s step one. The doctor confirms there’s no apparent damage, and that Yuki merely needs time to recover, including plenty of sleep.

Yuki continues to live the life of a High Schooler through exams, as Ryoko and Kyon worry over her out of earshot. They’re unsure how to feel about this Other Yuki, but resolve to do their best.

So, as Other Yuki narrates, we hear the story of a robot developing emotions and attachments, brought in by her healing, told over of the course of four episodes. This includes fearing what is essentially her death, as once she finishes healing, Other Yuki will be gone, replaced by her body’s original owner. Emotions are mixed for all involved, as of course they want their Yuki back, but they also grow attached to Other Yuki and don’t wish to see her go fully.

On what Other Yuki knows will be her last day, with only one sleep remaining, she spends time at a used book fair, then as much time with Ryoko as possible, before heading to the library to finish reading a book she checked out before she’s gone.

Once that’s done, one final task remains as sleep begins to come for her, she phones Kyon to confess her love. Also to ask him to return the book for her.

She’ll be dead in a minute, so why not?

Kyon races to meet with her before she’s gone, but finds a napping Yuki once he reaches the bench outside the library. Other Yuki is gone.

Which leaves the remaining episodes of the series to deal with the fallout of the situation. Ryoko, sad to see Other Yuki go, collects herself quickly and resumes her life. Yuki seems to have lost her memories from the period, and I don’t think anyone tells her what happened in the interim.

Kyon is unsure what to do, as he realizes he’d fallen in love with Other Yuki.

Further, Haruhi has to deduce the events, as exams had kept her and Koizumi away. She encourages Kyon to work through his confusion.

I hand the final arc to Kyon because the roles switch places from the first arc, with Yuki blissfully unaware of Kyon’s feelings as Kyon is overthinking everything. It’s an interesting turn around.

Eventually, during a festival, Kyon uses the sound of fireworks to cover up his own love confession, as a symbolic message to the Other Yuki, so that he can finally let go and move on.

Which leaves us in the stalemate we began with: Yuki loves Kyon, and Kyon is blissfully unaware, even though Other Yuki’s confession should be a hint.

And maybe it is, as we don’t get to see much more.

Honestly, I’d be satisfied if this is where the Anime Adaption remains. I know of the Manga, of course, but short of a second head injury, Other Yuki is not likely to return, and it’s her segment that gives weight and purpose to the series. We’ve told the story of both Yukis disappearing, so it’s complete in my mind.

I’d much rather the resources be put instead into continuing adapting the Haruhi Suzumiya books.

The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan works best as a companion to Melancholy, but I believe it’s strong enough on it’s own legs if you prefer. Yuki is an endearing character, the titular arc is a strong tale of melancholy (ha!), and it’s an enjoyable ride. So give it a go.

If you have comments, questions, or loose thoughts, feel free to contact me and I’ll attempt to meet them with due diligence. If you want to support me, my projects, and/or fund me getting a dog, please check out my Patreon. If it ever gains traction, I’ll modify it to reward people with things they like. I aim to amuse.

Kataal kataal.

[1] Funimation has secured the license, I’ve preordered it, it’ll come. [2] I’m mostly wondering about Isuna Hasekura’s[3] name, as I intend to use it for fun reference times. [3] Author of Spice & Wolf. [4] Nevertheless, Haruhi Suzumiya sounds better to my ear than Suzumiya Haruhi. That may be habit, though. [5] I am using the english title because that’s what I know it as. [6] Does Yuki-chan count as fanfiction? The lines blur! [7] Sneaking Yuki’s name into the credits would have cinched it, but, alas… [8] Possibly a nice nod to Kyon’s famous opening monologue. [9] Whose real name we still do not know, though this series explains how the nickname passed from his sister to others. [10] There’s a particular Jazz number that first crops up during the mall sequence in the first episode that recurs. I should probably search out that track… [11] Trying to use nostalgia of my favorite Haruhi episode to evoke an emotional response, eh? It worked.