#I’m too tired to write but all this knowledge is spinning around in my brain… cotton candy style

[emmaspolaroid]

listen listen listen to me when they aren’t terrified for their lives noremma are both such Dorks they Yes, And each other for hours and take turns infodumping and they simply don’t get sick of each other

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (4)

Summary:  Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Can you actually fall in love fast? or is Tilly just fortunate enough to catch Toto's attention and gain his respect and determination in span of a day? As of this point, she might as well host a slumber party as Daniel and Lewis continue to pester her with the most important topics of her life right now: her family and the hypothetical ones she'd make with Toto.

Content warning: Age gap, brief use of explicit language, discusses the 2014 austrian gp, flirtatious banter, mutual pining kind of romance, platonic relationship with Lewis Hamilton and Daniel Ricciardo, fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: Thank you all so much for the 50 followers! I honestly have been writing these just because I didn't have anything occupy my time and it's a good idea that I posted them up here. knowing that you're enjoying my brain's ideas, it fuels me even more into writing. As of this point I'm currently writing a spin-off for Rush and this series so keep an eye out, I suppose. I hope you all enjoyed today's race because I certainly did (Albon was way too fucking good this weekend, I shit you not). And I hope Alonso's 2nd place makes up for the Father's Day that I'll never get to spend with him. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iv. fast lane but not the race weekend kind

“Regards,

Tilly Marie F. Hearth…”

That should be okay, I tell myself silently as I put away my laptop. It’s only 6 pm, and I already wish to retire to my bed early. 

I can be doing a lot, but instead I’m moping inside my hotel room while I’m waiting for Lewis. Being on a paid vacation is nice; I don’t have to do anything and deal with people. But at the same time, I’m craving more tasks to occupy my time because truthfully, I do NOT want to be stuck in a hotel in Silverstone with nothing to do. I spent my early 20’s being away from people, but now I’m entering my early 30’s, I’m slowly thinking that I probably should’ve done more than attend festivals by myself or with my sisters.

None of the people I was around with earlier had looked my way until after they'd been told that I was working in communications and was a boss’ child. The staff from the other teams also did the same—but some of them knew who I was already and had already made themselves comfortable. Just how I wanted.

But then again, this is my first day. And Sunday would probably be my last considering that I’ll be back to my stuffy office the next week. 

I can take up the role as a consultant for communications. My father did offer me that role for Ferrari, Red Bull and McLaren—telling me that I can do so much more in Formula One than my no-good employers. 

Bunch of bullshit, I curse out. He wouldn’t let go of his legacy like that. 

I already told him about writing for magazines or simply writing in general, but he still placed these executive positions in front of me as if he knew I’d give in. Sad fact is that he actually is right; I’m close to giving up on my job. If The Devil Wears Prada didn’t warn me the first time, Lauren Weisberger should have at least taken both of my shoulders and shaken them. 

It didn’t hurt to think about balancing Formula One and journalism out. After all, it’s what I can do as a journalist—know enough about racing and engines and ensure that my knowledge is being shared through my writing and published works. 

I try my best to relax in my bed, lying flat on the mattress with my hands resting on my stomach. The silence is deafening and I can hear my steady breathing. My eyes are growing tired as they continue to look up at the ceiling of my room. 

For a moment, I debated whether or not I should come downstairs for dinner with Lewis. If there’s anything that I know about him, he takes his dear time to get ready—and I have an endless closet at home. That’s telling you a lot. 

A knock on my door makes me stand fast and rush to open it. Daniel Ricciardo stands there with a grin.

“Oh you,” I blurt out.

Displeased with my response, Daniel cries out, “I’m not terrible all the time, Tils.” 

“Sorry,” I shake my head as I correct myself, “I meant that I thought you were Lewis.”

“He phoned me and said we should head down instead of waiting for him,” he shrugs as he sticks his arm out and offers, “let’s go?” 

I nod and head to where my flats are, slipping them on with ease as I grab my keycard and wallet. 

Daniel only pulled his arm back when I wrapped my arm around it. We descend to the ground floor where the restaurant is located. 

A host takes us to a four table seat at a corner. Seeing familiar faces from the venue, I nod at them as a greeting before I find myself sitting across Daniel. 

Soon enough, Lewis arrives and we begin to talk about today’s events. Forty five minutes had passed, and we found ourselves conversing in front of our already empty plates. 

Daniel asks about my family and all I can tell him has something to do with my mother’s side of the family. I guess out of the wealthy people in my family, I can understand my mother’s connections to the automobile industry. My toxic trait is that I despise my father but love my mother.

The difference is that my mother loves us more than anything and cares for our half-sister more than he does. 

But it seems Daniel has focused on a different matter.

“Your mother is— you’re a Ford, Tils,” his eyes widen like an owl as his mouth gapes open. I can practically see a fly entering his mouth. 

“My mum is,” I laugh, looking at Lewis as he, too, laughs at Daniel’s shocked expression. 

“Mate, she’s a Ford,” Daniel reaches out to nudge at Lewis and gestures at me. “You carry that information around just like that?” 

“She’s not really putting it out there for everyone to know,” Lewis chuckles, sipping on his water as he puts it down. “Besides, if you were really into racing you probably have heard about her dad or mum’s family one way or another.”

“I don’t really go digging for information about old money families,” Daniel rolls his eyes as he looks at me again, “you don’t look like you’re happy to be here. For someone who came from families who are into cars.”

“My father insisted on having me work for his teams,” I tell him, “I’m not exactly the brightest for motorsport. I prefer the media more than what my father wishes me to pursue.”

“Have you raced before?” 

“I had a karting career at some point,” I shrug, “or at least I started at the age 4. Mum didn’t agree with it and I should’ve started at 7, but my father insisted. I was already competing by 7. My sisters were too, but some preferred equestrian over racing.”

“If my dad was a twat, I’d stop it just to spite him too,” Daniel says as I raise my brows at the statement. He then corrects himself, “What I mean is I’d pursue the karting career for me, not for him.”

“Gotcha.”

Lewis pipes up, “Blanche is a pretty decent woman. You should see her, mate.” He turns to look at me and asks, “Is she coming this weekend?” 

“With Aimee and Sylvie,” I nod in confirmation, “I’m not quite sure about Stevie yet but she wouldn’t want to miss out on your home race.” Not elaborating any further, I return to the topic, “My father is absolutely baffled when I quit karting but he can’t do much because Poppy, my mum’s dad, was still alive. So between him and Poppy, he chose not to interfere.” 

“But you’re still here on behalf of your father though,” Daniel points out.

“It’s to secure my position and family’s future,” I tell him with a sigh. I look at him then back at Lewis before I say, “Whether I like it or not, I still need to do my part regardless of how much I hate the surname. It’s an obligation that I can’t avoid but it’s alright. It’s not just for me— it’s for my sisters and my future children.” Wow, I’ve only been friends with Daniel for a month and I’m already airing out my dirty laundry to him. Is this what happens when your friends are your sisters and just Lewis?

“You’re taking your elder sister role way too seriously. You can’t even catch a break,” Daniel says incredulously. 

I can only nod as I agree; my mother’s capable enough of worrying about them and I should just be doing whatever I want. She cares for my sisters as much as I do but being cut off from my father’s side of the family isn’t something that I’d allow. 

It’s not as if my sisters don’t want to join me at the trackside; they want to keep an eye on one of each team in fact. They want to be able to know what kind of thing our father brags about. But much like me, they don’t want to be on the track itself—they’re better off being models because that's what they wanted to be. They’ll join me soon enough, they just need to make a career out of modelling and come to work for the driving teams whenever they’re ready. 

“They’ll be in a lot of magazines soon enough,” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’d like them to do that first unless they feel like carrying a headache coming from either Brown or Horner.”

“There are three of them,” Lewis chuckles, “if anything, those three would outnumber your team principals. With you alone I got scared, could you imagine Sylvie? She’s feisty.” 

“It’s not just to keep them sane,” I roll my eyes, my foot underneath the table kicking Lewis in the leg. The table shakes lightly. “I just started working in this kind of industry. What kind of a big sister would I be if I’m just as clueless? I need to know more, especially if I want to be able to teach my potential kids about it.”

Lewis, the piece of shit, decides that this is the right time to joke about it and say, “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about a future with my boss, Tilly.” 

I snap my head to Lewis’ direction too much that I’m thinking I just got a whiplash. My glare hardens when Danny and Lewis’ faces turn red from laughing too much. 

“You ought to quiet down, boys,” I hiss, not wanting to look at the people who are giving us the unnecessary attention being gathered by their laughter.

“You have to admit,” Lewis breathes deeply to refrain from laughing again, “you two got along well. Was it because of Dubai?” 

“I told you that in confidence,” reaching down in his thigh, I pinch it as he whines quietly. He slaps my hand away as I say, “You’re a shit secret keeper.”

“Wai— what about Dubai?” Daniel, clearly not understanding what’s going on, asks as he looks at me while he expects a context. 

I muttered to him, “Met Toto Wolff in 2006. Spoke to him and all that.” 

Lewis nearly cries in laughter as he speaks, “She told me about it years ago. She never knew his name–or she refused to tell me who. She said he was attractive alright but—ow, stop it, Tils.”

I pull myself away from Lewis and sit back straight on my seat as I claim, “He doesn’t remember nor think of me like that, Lew. He’s just a silly crush.” 

“Is he?” 

“He was,” I correct him even if I’m wrong. It’s like Toto Wolff got an on-and-off button in my life. One moment he’s there making me blush the next thing he’s already gone. 

“You’ve been single for as long as I know,” Lewis huffs out, “why don’t you try dating again anyways?”

“With your boss?” I raise a brow, “Are you that obtuse?”

“What? He isn’t bad,” Lewis shrugs, returning to his usual composure as he crosses his arms, “the opportunity’s right there. Why are you adamant on not taking it?”

“Because she doesn’t want to get on Christian’s bad side for fraternizing with the enemy,” Daniel jokes. 

“I’m gonna kill you, Daniel,” I threaten him emptily, making him giggle again. 

“I’m repeating what you said!” He cries out, still laughing as he laughs obnoxiously. Men! Seriously.

“He’s quite interested you know,” Lewis states, his arms now crossing as he leaned against his seat. “He’s playing 20 questions with me whenever you leave. I’m not sure if he’s interested in me winning or you.” 

“He’s not interested like that,” I insist, “I’m sure he means well because I just popped up all of the sudden today. Nobody likes to step on the wrong foot of a newcomer. You’ll just make an enemy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel scoffs haughtily, “the guy who’s been asking Christian questions about you left and right— the same person who doesn’t like Christian— isn’t interested.” 

“I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone since 2004,” I scowl, trying to keep my voice quiet as I say, “What makes you think I’ll be able to have an interesting relationship with him?” 

“He isn’t subtle about wanting to spend time with you,” Lewis answers, “what did he say again? You’re welcome to be in our paddock anytime? Does that ring a bell?”

Of course I do, I almost huff out, it’s one of the things that I intend to do. Be able to spend enough time admiring his team…

“I know men,” Daniel adds, “and with the way of how he’s looking down at you during the interview? With the heart eyes making contact with another pair of heart eyes? Yeah, that man is in loooove~”

“Like it’s a fast lane.”

Now I can’t deny it. 

I like being around Toto Wolff, more than anything. Speaking to him is like a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a cigar lounge. He’s a gentleman; I’ve always wondered how he’s not married. Women deserve him. Yet he’s here, being the most eligible bachelor in the grid following Fernando Alonso. God, I will snatch him up if I can even meet his level. I doubt he likes his women like me… trashy trying to be classy.

But it turns out, my cynicism is unnecessary. I find myself thinking a lot about the things that could be. In an empty elevator, I wait as it slowly closes. But the call from outside forces me to keep the door open until the person catches up. 

The man makes it inside as he stands tall, trying to catch his breath. There’s no way in hell—

“Tilly,” oh my god. I’m seeing too much of him today. 

I turn to my left as I dumbly ask, “Bonjour, what floor?” 

Toto looks at me with confusion in his face, probably wondering if I’m playing stupid or just stupid in general as he looks past me and says, “You’ve got it.” 

Wow, not only am I seeing too much of him, I’m also on the same floor as him. 

I nod and look back at the front, I can see him through the reflection from the doors. His polo remains unbuttoned and his hair unruly after running his fingers through it. I can see traces of sweat dripping down his forehead. I probably shouldn’t do a physical examination on him.

I look at him and ask politely, “Have you had dinner yet?” It’s a polite thing to ask, right? Like I’m not coming off as desperate to speak to him?

“Ah,” he keeps his mouth shut for a second and answers, “it is something to take up in my room, unfortunately.”

“Is it?” I ask out of curiosity, “You could have joined others for dinner?” 

“Busy, as always,” he smiles sadly, “it’s an endless battle.”

“Quite a shame,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “Do people know time zones or just business hours or is it just something written on papers?” I ask no one in particular.

“My brain doesn’t shut off the moment 7 pm hits,” he tells me with a rueful smile. “It calls for work all the time. So, no. I don’t follow my own business hours policy.” God, I feel sorry for him. 

“It’s like a wire, Toto,” I nibble on my bottom lip, not knowing how to express my empathy without looking like an arse, “you can’t plug it back in if you’ve something to prevent it from happening. Like a baby proof.” 

“You’re right,” he laughs. “What do you suggest I should do? The baby proof, I mean.”

I watch him as the door slides open, thanking him as he gestures for me to walk out of the lift first. Then my mouth does not stop speaking, “Have a dinner away from your work, for instance. Never hurts to isolate your work once in a while,” he laughs at that, “read a book? I love reading novels— I am currently skimming through Das Parfum. You can even time your break before going back to work because I can assure you that habit isn't good.” 

“Do you understand the German language?” He asks me. Mentioning Das Parfum clearly piqued his curiosity. 

It was smart of me to bring it up. When he told me earlier that he came from Austria, I knew I could talk to him in so many languages. Like I knew what I should say next. Like a mastermind.

I'm such a fucking mastermind.

My mouth quirks up and I answer, “Wir haben schließlich viele deutsche fahrer.” We have a lot of German drivers, after all.

He nods at me like he listens to everything I tell him. As if he’s following an order or he’s rather impressed with my pronunciations. Nice. 

Our conversation leads us in front of my hotel room. 

I look at him and gestures to the door, “This is my bat lair.”

“Bat lair?” He chuckles.

“My little humble abode,” I joke. “I can unfortunately hear my bed calling for me. I have to go.” 

“Right,” he nods as I open my door and step inside my room. Telling myself to get my shit together, I turn around to see him still waiting for me to head in. That was a surprise. 

I suggest, “One way to turn your stressful work day around would be breakfast. If you’d like, you can have one with me tomorrow?” 

“Are you asking me on a breakfast date?” He teases, watching me fall apart with my face flushing red. He stops eventually and answers, “I would be more than happy to accompany you before we head out.” 

“Okay good,” I laugh nervously, “I’ve no one else with me anyways so there’s that… does seven sound okay?” 

“You can ask me for anything I think I’ll say yes, liebling,” boom. There goes my heart once more. He grins gleefully as he says, “I know a place nearby. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?” 

“As far as I know I’m the one who asked you first,” I roll my eyes in a joking manner, smile escaping my lips. 

“I’d love to have you pick me up but I know the place,” he tells me with a shrug. “Besides, it’s by the tracks. We can head down there together before they start piling up for the day.” 

Not wanting to fluster myself anymore, I nod almost eagerly and he exclaims, “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Have a good night, bello. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, schatz. Sweet dreams.”

Oh I really am going to have the sweetest dreams ever. Trust me. 

[stopeatingwhales]

pregnant x damon albarn

MORE DILF DAMON. this made me want to slowly die I cant it was so cute to write

Pairing: 2014 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: none :D

Word count: 1.341

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

The world around me seemed as if it was spinning at a pace more sporadic than lightwaves as I attempted to focus my gaze on the two faint red lines, which had begun to illustrate themselves on the plastic stick, increasing it’s coloured prominence after each second had passed. Those same two lines, coincidentally, provided me the answer to all the dilemmas that had been enthralled and cultivated over the past week: the consistent queasy feeling that encompassed my limbs every moment I tried to fix my body in a standing position, my guts instantly being triggered by the sudden movement that I would go and throw up - said to be morning sickness, the irritable craving for any little thing that cropped up into my brain for less than the sum of a minute, resulting in me forcing my boyfriend to journey to the corner store, purchasing the specific one that I had wanted, otherwise I would’ve gotten all fussy and made him return back to get it; as well as the horrible mood swings that would occur, provoked by the sudden increase in hormone levels displacing my demeanour constantly, remaining me a mopey mess… It was simply a fever, a cold, a horrible catch of influenza, though as soon as the realisation washed over me that I had skipped the supposed due date for my period, the ideation dawned on me, which was answered in the only way possible - a pregnancy test. Managing to get my friend to purchase one for me as I was bedridden for days on end, proving my physical inability to do simple household tasks myself due to the morning sickness that I had developed, I avoided telling Damon about my speculations, merely because I didn’t want to get his hopes up. The talk of bearing another child had been levitating in the empyrean of our conversations for a short while, mainly beginning as simple jokes, which would then mature into the statement ‘Imagine raising a child…’, though no conversations had ever progressed into concluding such dreams of doing so.

“Hiya love,” Damon said, instantly turning his head to the door as he set his eyes upon the sight of me strutting into the living room, managing to walk around without the nauseating feeling erupting in my throat for the first time in hours. He thought that I was asleep, the only times the sounds of my shuffling around audible was when I had headed to the bathroom - the place in which I had found out the newfound news that had been growing inside my lower stomach. He stood up slowly, reaching my side as he provided assistance to make my way over to sit on the sofa, beside where he was sitting, engulfed in whatever was shown on the television. Once we sat down, and he was fully sure that I was comfortable, he sat down beside me, where he had previously sat before I entered the living space. Admiring his features, I noticed that he looked tired, exhausted even; he was working extremely long, tiring hours at the studio as the release date for his upcoming solo album - tonight being his only free evening. My heart panged in my chest for the short period that my eyes laid on him, exhaling slightly as I realised that returning home to his partner being in such a temperamental state perpetually, would affect him more than he would care to admit, at all; he would be adamant that I hadn’t been making him feel worse, though by the look of his drained features, I might just have. “You alright?”

Nodding my head, I directed my vision to stare at the random episode of some antique show that had been displayed on the television. “Why on earth are you watching this?” I laughed, grabbing the remote to switch channels to something more interesting.

“There’s nothing to watch!” he groaned, though it sounded more like a chuckle laced with slight annoyance towards how bland the channels had been today. Deciding upon leaving the television on the news, not caring excessively over what was playing, I turned my head to fixate my stare on Damon, our gazes meeting. His piercing blue eyes burned straight through mine as if to telepathically question upon why I hadn’t simply called him over to our bedroom, the fatigue embraced on my features almost foreshadowing the thought that from my projected abnormalities, another thing had been plaguing my mind; something else was going on.

Stretching my arms out in the air, I filled the silence that had collapsed between the pair of us, the only sounds audible echoing out from the television speakers. “I think I know why I’ve been feeling so sickly.” I mumbled, my body relishing in the sensation of my limbs, once aching in outright pain from being stuck in one position under my duvet for many hours on end, finally fulfilling its use in movement.

“Because of your fever?” he replied, a small laugh escaping his throat at what had seemed to be such an obvious answer to the question that had been floating in the atmosphere of our minds. For all Damon knew right now, was that I was poorly with what could only be concluded as a monstrosity of a fever, and was being far too dramatic at the thought that I was going to die constantly from the overwhelming waves of heat that had kept flushing over my skin.

As I shook my head slightly, a miniscule grin casted on my lips as I set my mind on speculating his reaction to me mentioning the ultimating news that I had come across simply a couple of minutes ago. “It’s not that…” I trailed off, my voice shrinking in volume as I allowed my right hand to rest on my lower stomach, patting it lightly, giving the notion that it had something to do with my stomach. My eyes stayed focused on Damon’s expression as I watched his eyes squint together for a short while, confusion outcased across his features, my smile widening at how oblivious he was being.

The beam that perched on my lips simply grew Damon’s puzzled state even more, until realisation washed over him, to which his eyes widened, his head merely cocking to the side as he wondered whether it was appropriate to ask or not. “You’re not…”

Water began to softly brim my eyelids as my smile enlarged, exposing my teeth as I managed to lift my body and straddle Damon’s lap, taking ahold of one of his hands, so soft to the touch, lifting my shirt up slightly as I placed his hand on my lower stomach - the place in which our future child was inhabited. Disbelief poured over his expression; he was left speechless as he awaited such confirmation toward his suspicions. Placing my lips gently onto his, I held our bodies in a warm, slow, passionate kiss, goosebumps coming alive on my forearms as I allowed the salty liquid to escape from my eyes as they were closed shut. “I’m pregnant.” I said, detaching my lips away from his as I marvelled at his face lighting up with joy, his arms embracing me in another hug. Upon finding out that the option was attained, I couldn’t have been more ecstatic. There was a life growing inside my belly, a life that had been formed from such passion and affection shared between the person that I had loved most, somebody that had provided me the knowledge that you can never stop loving somebody, and the love that you have for them, grows every single day.

Both his hands began tucking fallen strands of my hair behind both my ears, eventually holding my face in his hands as I melted into his touch, his thumbs softly swiping against my now tear-stained cheeks as he brought my forehead forward to brush against his. “You are going to be the best mother in the world.” he stated, his lips connecting with mine once again.

[venenatd]

atsumu x reader; motion sickness - chapter three.

summary; atsumu wants to get to know reader better, and somehow convinces her to take him to the ice rink

content warnings; nsfw content, public sex, unprotected sex (nothing will come from it), dom/sub undertones

a/n; i hope u enjoy!! i think from here on out i get more into the swing of things and much prefer my writing so i hope u do too! reblogs/thoughts are v appreciated <3

ao3 | series masterlist | main masterlist | 18+ minors dni

Choosing to wake up alone means the bed is cool and spacious. You can roll over and feel nothing. Sheets fold against your body, swallowing you whole. No need to tug them away, they are all for you. You push the thoughts away too, the idea that there could have been a warmth to tuck into. All throughout your routine you ignore how someone else could fit into it. 

Breakfast alone stings a little more, the hotel full of families and teams. You’re more aware now at the buffet, of the many muscular men that stand around in groups. They pile plates high of the day's energy. Wildebeest at the watering hole, you note to yourself. If there was anyone to eye roll at, you would. You notice you don’t see a certain head of toned blond hair. Not that you’re looking for it, you remind yourself.

People watching is best done on your own however, and your eyes flit between young couples, children spilling honey down their chins, and people desperate for the relief of caffeine. 

Alone is safe and comforting. An observer, as Faiz would often call you. Watching and analysing and playing with the stories in your mind. You can live through the honeyed child, the tired parent. Give them a job, a goal, a life. It’s fun to enter their space, if for a moment. 

The moment ends as Faiz breaks into your thoughts, fragments of faux futures shatter around you. “I have a challenge for you today.” 

“Oh?” 

“I want you to trust me,” the cheeky glint in his eye makes you want to do anything but.

“You already know I do.” His overjoyed energy is infectious, and your morning of distraction in other people’s brains has been replaced. You can feed off him to feel full. “What are you planning?” 

“So, before you ask he’s down,” he begins, grinning at your raised brow, “but I think you should work with Makito today.” You chew on your toast for a minute, thinking through what Faiz is really asking. Or telling, as is more often when it comes to your coach. 

“It’s for p—”

“Passion, you dumbass.” 

“—ssion, isn’t it? Oi.” you go to flick his forehead, but he’s too quick and instead gets yours. “Ow, Faiz. Insulting and hurting me? Your favourite skater?” 

“My favourite skater you may be, but you also need to score well. And I’ve got a plan.” 

He drones on for a while, about how working with Makito is going to help create an environment where you’re performing for someone in particular. If you are embers, he will try and find someone or something to breathe the fire into you. You see how much he’s thought about this, and hey, you’re willing to give it a go if it might help. 

As you make your leave from the hotel restaurant, you bump into something. Firm and tall and moving in such an ecstatic manner that it’s almost difficult to believe it’s so early in the morning. The someone grabs your shoulders, almost picking you up to move you to his side. You fluster, and they lean down to you.

“Sorry, sorry! Apparently way too hungry for breakfast,” his voice is deep but keeps the same energy as his movements. “Wait, do I know you?” 

And then you see it. Another flashback to your night of heavy drinking. A shock of white and black hair, and bird-like features. “Barely, I think. I was drinking with your,” you’re not sure what term to settle on, “teammate, I think? Atsumu?”

“Yes, Tsum Tsum’s girl! Hey!” 

“I’m not—”

“She’s not—”

And there he is. Sun gold hair still damp from an early shower. He looks like the warmth you were missing that morning. You didn’t miss it, you correct your runaway thoughts. It’s just a feeling you were once used to. 

“Oh. Awkward. Well, breakfast calls!”

Like that the owl flees the nest. 

“I should get going,” you say, shuffling past him as an attempt to run from the atmosphere. You don’t need to talk about it, or what you did. Hookups are a lot easier when you’re not both staying at the same hotel. 

“I meant what I said, by the way,” he calls after you, waiting a second for you to turn. You shouldn’t turn around. Not if you don’t want to give him the chance to offer again. But it’s like his voice has a command over you, and you pause briefly. He rewards you with the easy curl of his lips and the way it shows in his cheeks. A small flash of hope in his eyes. “I’ll teach you a spike for a spin.” 

At least there’s someone for you to roll your eyes at now. 

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Glad ya keepin’ up.”

Atsumu is quickly realising that you don’t quite speak your mind. It’s always you won’t take no, you don’t have to. It’s so far never been, I’m interested, I want that. There’s something about the way your brain is wired that makes him curious. Not that he would tell you about the other women that have flit through his life, but his type usually falls under demanding, high strung. Osamu would tease him that he dates reflections of himself. They could barely be considered dates, if he really looks into it. It’s always to bars and parties, his ‘date’ enjoying the expensive alcohol or his teammates. 

Maybe he does have a jealous streak. When he goes for those who throw themselves at him, he never quite expects them to do the same to his teammates in turn. It’s nice to be wanted though, if only as a stepping stone. 

If you are not demanding, it would only be natural to assume you are easy or effortless. But you are not that either. You need persuasion and nudging to agree to the course you want anyway. 

You are a curiosity, Atsumu thinks as you enter the rink together. His practice isn’t till late, your schedules are so perfectly mis-aligned. 

The not-boyfriend from the bar is here too, pushing off the seats to greet you. Atsumu stays back and lets you explain the situation, giving a polite nod when Faiz is introduced as your coach. He relaxes more when Faiz gives him a grin, one that spills with knowledge of late night escapades.

“So, you’re the guy?” 

“Am I the guy?” he questions you, and as your eyes once again move to roll, he speaks again, “y’know, your eyes might get stuck like that one day.” 

“I told her the same thing!” Faiz laughs, patting Atsumu’s back. “She’s always doing it too, as if I’m so below her.”

“Both of you should stop talking.” It’s cute, he thinks. Your little pout that you probably think looks oh so stern. Brows knitted and a finger to your temple. A kindergartner would laugh in your face. 

“Faiz, I hate to break it to you. But she didn’t deny it.” His hand squeezes Faiz’s shoulder, a look of woe playing on his face. The coach responds with a hand clasped to his chest, stepping back as if your words have shot him. 

He mutters your name under his breath, as if shocked by the revelation. “You’ve been using me all this time? And here I thought we were friends.” Faiz looks between you, lips trying so hard to fight a smile, and the beaming blonde next to him. “And him? You’re using him for se—”

Your eyes widen, and your hand immediately goes to slap your palm over Faiz’s mouth. “Okay! Okay, I get it! Very funny Faiz, very funny Atsumu. You’re both first class athletes and comedians.” 

There’s murmuring that comes from the fingers covering Faiz, and you open them just enough for Faiz to let you, “was it any good at least?” before you close them again. 

Atsumu goes to open his mouth, goes to prod more fun in your direction. But your hand goes from Faiz’s mouth, to his hand, and you’re pulling him and his words away. 

“Please not in the locker room,” Faiz calls in your general direction, to which you pull your signature middle finger back at him. 

“Are we gonna do it in the locker room?” Atsumu asks, praying the slight element of hope is hidden by the teasing. How easy it would be to guide your hand in his, move it towards your waistband.

“You wish.” He does.

“I like your coach.” Atsumu leans against the rows of lockers, watching you swap shoes for skates, “seems more fun than mine.”

“He knows me better than anyone. And he’s honest, doesn’t hide anything,” you speak as if it's routine. A question that has an automatic answer. “I already regret letting you two meet.”

“Oh c’mon, Golide,” he trails after you, admiring how on earth you can walk so comfortably on blades. “We both know you enjoy it.” 

“You need me to say it?” you question as you step on the ice, whisking away before he can respond. 

Maybe he doesn’t need you to say it, but he certainly wants you to. There’s elements of your attitude that Atsumu wants to learn. Why you very clearly have walls up, and how he can seep into the cracks. 

Faiz comes to stand next to him, both of them watching as you move across the ice. Now you do seem effortless. Atsumu is sure it takes huge effort for you to push yourself across the ice, but somehow it looks like you prefer it to walking. 

“So,” Faiz begins, and Atsumu knows the tone of the protective friend, “you like her?” 

As much as you can after hanging out with someone a couple of times. Atsumu knows he’s become curious. Is that liking you? It sounds like something a teenager would say. So far he knows he likes aspects of you. Your smile, first of all. The banter between you both is easy, it keeps him on his toes. Your moans and sarcasm are both equally sweet. 

“Something like that.”

Faiz hums thoughtfully and Atsumu thinks he’s not going to do it, and that he doesn’t need to make any promises. “Just be nice to her. She deserves that.” 

It’s a weird way to phrase don’t hurt her, but Atsumu nods nonetheless. Just like that the men are back to smooth and easy jokes and discussions of career. 

Eventually another man, the other not-boyfriend Atsumu recalls, joins them, and Faiz bids his goodbyes. They both go towards you on the rink, and so your new lesson begins.

Makito is almost giddy to work with you. His movements are too quick and too erratic for you to feel calm. Your head is usually clear in practice. Knowing where the exact places your skates should be, the extension of your hands. But it’s fogged doing it with someone else, as well as knowing two pairs of eyes are watching. 

You had begun by simply holding on to one another, doing the most basic of motions to make sure you were working together well, and that no one was going to trip over the other. Deeming it a success, Faiz had moved onto the next challenge. 

“Remember, this is all about feeling with Makito,” he instructs, putting both your hands on each other, “I want to see you responding to him. Acting the part.” Pretending to be in love is what he really means. 

You both move across the ice, you’re meant to be jumping into Makito’s lap and the two of you leaning back to balance the weight. The idea is to make it look sexy, alluring, erotic. All words that you think far from describe you. 

From the edge of the rink Atsumu wolf whistles, and he imagines the eye roll, although he’s not sure he likes the idea of that so much when you’re seated in someone else's lap. 

“Makito, how did that feel?” Faiz quizzes.

He winces, looking sheepishly towards you before he answers. “Like she thought she was going to fall.” 

“Did you think you were going to fall?” He directs the question your way, but you think he knows the answer. Curse him understanding you inside and out. 

“I- I don’t know. Trying so hard to look romantic I didn’t think about much else.” 

It goes on like that for long enough that you’re both sweating. The same song plays on repeat as you go through set movements again and again. It makes it feel like both so much and so little time is passing. Even Atsumu is just flicking through his phone now. Why did you say yes to him coming again? You know Faiz can feel your agitation, the way you bristle each time he instructs you to look a certain way. If trying your best was enough, you’d be done by now. 

“Go. Take a break,” Faiz instructs. He’ll give you some time to cool off as he always does, letting you work it out isolated. It’s what works best for your brain. A whole other routine, walking away and turning music up far too loud. Stewing in it all. Absorbing yourself in the negative feelings until you can push them away or find something to distract yourself from them. 

It feels like you should be alone this time. Too many wrong buttons pushed and you could snap at someone only to regret it. Too bad for you that you said yes to your newest irritant. 

“You looked awesome” Atsumu begins, looking up from whatever feed he’s swiping through. He can barely finish the sentence before your face causes him to falter. 

There are two pairs of steps echoing down the hallway, the creak of a rusty hinge swinging twice. Hopes of a lonesome sanctuary in the locker room are dashed.

“Hey, you okay?”

His face is full of concern, which puzzles you. Your fingers struggle to unlace your shoes. Must you struggle with everything when it comes to your profession? Maybe a distraction would be better. 

“Goldie?” 

The nickname bounces around in your mind, coupled with I’ve got you. Your shoes are off and next comes your sweater. Tugging it over your head and discarding it unceremoniously on the floor. 

“Do you need anything?”

Perspiration still clings to your body, coming down from your workout on the ice. He is standing there, so big, so broad. It’s like a magnet is drawing you closer. He is a distraction wrapped in an aggravatingly handsome face and strong body. 

“Yes, I do.”

His eyes flick down to your chest, heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat. Not the time, Atsumu. You’re looking up at him through your lashes, and his lips part, thinking about- not the time. He thought it was annoyance in your eyes, but the darkness seems to hold a different weight. Fists are balled by your side, and he’s not sure if you’re holding yourself back from punching a wall or something else. 

“Fuck me, Atsumu.” 

“What?” His brain is short circuiting, he thinks. ‘It’s not the time’ he repeats again and again. He’d promised to be nice to you and suddenly he’s not sure if that means talking you down or engaging with you in all the ways he wants to. 

“You wanted to, right? Just fuck me.”

All of your body language is screaming at him to grab you and pull you in. Your palm crosses against his pectorals, your fingers curling to tease your nails down past his naval. 

“You want me to beg Atsumu?” On tip toes you can push your body against his. Low and whispered against your voice is at the shell of his ear. “You want me to say please?”

The tensing of his muscles underneath his shirt makes you not want to pull away. You want Atsumu to want you. No, you want him to need you. To show you that you’re good for something. So you fall back on your feet, starting to turn away, heart dropping for a moment when he stays still. Maybe you’re the desperate one. 

But then his hand grips around your arm, pushing you firmly against the row of lockers. His mouth crushes yours before you can even think of teasing him. Gripping under your ass, he brings your legs around his waist. You smile into the kiss as you notice he’s already half hard. 

He almost growls into your sigh, realising that he does not have easy access to you like this. Slow ruts against you, easily bringing you against his crotch as Atsumu keeps you stuck between his body and the lockers. He needs convincing to let you away from him for even a second. “Say it again.” 

“Please Atsumu. Please fuck me.”

It tips him over, sends him into some sort of feral need for your cunt. Dropping and rotating you, pushing you back up against the cool metal. 

Fingers rip at your leggings and panties, rolling them just far enough down your ass. You think he may manage to leave you with bruises when he grabs your hips again. He is always on you, whether it’s his tongue on your neck, his hands pulling down your cami to cup your tits. 

Your hands scramble behind you, desperately trying to pull at his pants. He’s quick to entertain you, bringing them down and tugging his cock a few times. 

Foreplay be fucking damned. You think you’re wet enough, or at least the stretch and burn of Atsumu buried inside you will be enough to sedate your over active mind. “I need you inside me. I n- need you to fill me, ‘Tsumu.”

As much as Atsumu wants to treasure your body, give you all that you deserve, the pure desire that fills your voice drives him into a new space entirely. 

His head presses at that tight ring of muscle, letting himself be lathered in your slick. Gathering spit in his mouth, he pushes it between his teeth to let it slowly drop on his cock. You whine, begging more and more. Pushing yourself back on him as best you can with your waistband keeping your thighs pressed together. 

Atsumu’s thumb pushes his spit around your already stretched hole, then moving down to press against your clit. It’s enough for him to fully sheath himself, giving you the delicious burn you were hoping for. 

You’ve never been fucked like this. Never been needy enough to beg for it, and fuck, maybe it’s because Atsumu seemed so eager to make you feel good before. Maybe it’s that you know you don’t have to feel anything more than his length pushing against your satin walls again and again. You’ll go home, and all the deranged things your mind made you do can stay here. 

Words fall from your lips, you’ve been the one talking- begging so far. “Harder, please, please, please, fuck yes.” One large hand is holding your elbows together behind you, the other plucking at your nipples or passing over your clit. He can’t make his mind up, each one drawing a new sound from you until you're babbling under him. Going from nothing to having Atsumu smacking his hips against your ass, oversensitive everywhere as you’re grabbed and played with.

“Yeah? You can’t even beg for it anymore, huh?” 

Glazed over eyes look back at him, as if his cock has been a complete shock to your system. 

But you’re defiant. “P-Please,” he makes out through your gritted teeth. 

It makes him think of things you both could do. Things that need safe words and more trust than he feels you’re willing to give. 

He’s close, feeling his abdomen and thighs tingle and tighten. There’s some part of him that wants you to be open to ideas, open to the trust that they’d need. He would need it. 

Quick thrusts slow. Atsumu moves deep and slow, his hand letting your arms go and wrapping under your chest. He almost fully pulls out before driving back in, leaving you gulping for air in short gasps. His fingers massage your clit, and instead of mocking you he’s whispering encouragement. 

“You feel so good, so, hah, s’fuckin’ good. Wan— wanna make you feel it all, wanna make you feel good.” 

You don’t even realise your satin walls are fluttering around him, but Atsumu does. The tightness of your pussy around him makes him want to fill you up with his cum, and then he realises. No condom. Fuck. He looks at your fucked out face, eyebrows raising in bliss.

More whispered praise against your ear, and now you can feel it too. The coil in your stomach that’s making you tighten, making you open your eyes in surprise. He’s not saying it, but all you can think about is Atsumu saying “I’ve got you” because you’re so sure he does. Holding you up and close to his body, wanting you to also feel the pleasure you can see etched across his handsome features. 

Before you realise it’s happening you're falling, spasming around his cock. Repeating “‘Tsumu, ‘tsumu, ‘tsumu” in a rapturous melody. Moans echo around the locker room, and Atsumu’s pulling out from between your plush folds, leaving you to clench around nothing. His cum coats your ass, jerking himself off to completion, wishing so hard it was your cunt milking every drop from him. 

Slow and sweet kisses pepper your shoulder and neck, the cheek that isn’t pressed into the metal. “You feel good?” he says softly between pecks. 

“Yeah, I… I needed that.” His thumbs massage into your hips, as if he’s working out the bruises that will definitely be there tomorrow. It’s another show of care that leaves you unsettled. “Feel better without your cum on my ass.”

Atsumu lets out a low chuckle, and he steps back to admire his work. A pretty painting, if he says so himself. Tucking himself away, he has to leave you standing awkwardly to run and grab tissues. There’s sincerity in how he cleans you up too, not quick and hurried as he should be. His fingers smooth over the curve of your ass, leaving more kisses in his wake. 

Once you’re clean, he neatens your hair and pulls your leggings back up. You smooth out your smudged mascara and you both head back towards the rink. It’s too quiet for too long, but before you can interrupt the silence he does.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Hmm?” you hum.

“You said you needed it. Frustrated about something?” 

The cold hits you both as you push open the doors into the rink. Makito and Faiz nod at you both before going back to their conversation. Probably about how much you suck at anything close to passion, you think, the feelings you’d just managed to smother becoming too quick to resurface. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” His eyebrows deepen and his brown eyes are full of so much sincerity you can’t help but go on. “So, I did pairs skating for a while, like what you saw earlier.”

He lets out little hums as you talk, reassuring notes of interest. “But then I moved to singles, and lost the spark and, uh—”

“The passion.” Fuck Faiz and his fucking passion. Atsumu grins at him for a moment, and you’re waiting for the onslaught of teasing to begin, but it doesn’t. His eyes return to you, his smile stays, dropping from cheeky into something softer. 

“That. Passion, the desire, the,” you gesture wildly, “the stuff that turns it from spins and jumps into a performance.” 

“And that’s what you were doing with your friend?” Atsumu points at Makito. 

“The lift? Yeah, seeing if I’ve still got it in pairs.”

In a flash Atsumu is lifting you for the second time today, grabbing you by the waist despite your “hey!” Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, the breath being pulled from you as he manhandles you easily. 

One large palm spreads across your back, and your body is running on it’s latest experience, curving back. Is he also thinking about what just happened, thinking about how he was going to take you like this? His face still holds onto something dark, his eyes lingering with lust. You pray your own doesn’t betray you, that you can feign it as surprise. 

“That’s it! That’s the look!” Atsumu and you both turn to your coach. 

His eyes wide and excited, both hands pointing at your face. Faiz is almost jumping up and down on the spot. “That’s what will make people notice! You did it!”

Your cheeks warm, watching Atsumu try to lean back also, replicating what he saw Makito do earlier. He’s strong and beautiful and everything you’re sure many women want. But with his eyebrows drawn in deep concentration, trying so hard to be elegant… He looks utterly ridiculous. Like that you’re giggling, hands having to loop around his neck to keep yourself from laughing your way to the floor. 

You sound so good when you laugh. The challenge of getting it out of you is what first caught Atsumu. A smile made his drunken self feel gooey. Now sober, the noise of you trying to even your breathing as you give him a full bodied laugh. It makes him want to cup your face, marvel at your eyes creasing, the way the corners of your lips curl. 

“And it’s gone again.” Faiz sighs, but it’s warm and full of so many emotions but not disappointment. 

Eyes full of sweet browns and honey catch you off guard. He’s looking too intently at you. Your smile fades, body going more rigid in his hands. Atsumu lets you drop, making sure you’re steady before his hands move from your waist. 

Practice starts back up, Atsumu watching from the sidelines. He can’t hear the discussion well enough between the trio on the ice, and soon his attention splits back between you and his phone.

His thumbs move quickly, typing out a ‘you’ll never believe what just happened’ to the MSBY group chat before he pauses, and presses against the backspace. To share what just happened feels wrong. It felt a little too personal. You needed him for a moment. If he was to tell the team, it’d be a fun anecdote. There’s the chance they could piece together it was with you, and if he can convince you to come to a game… 

Atsumu doesn’t want to mess it up. 

So instead his fingers take him to a different message, and start to type again.

Me // 11:21am

>> oi, i got a question for u

Samu🍙 // 11:24am

>> yes you need to wash everywhere. including there. 

Me // 11:24am

>> ok

>> guess i’ll ask someone else

>> scrub

Samu🍙 // 11:24am

>> don’t be a baby

>> what’s up

His quick typing stops for a moment, watching you jump into Makito’s lap once more, and then the three of you are grinning and high fiving. 

Me // 11:25am

>> have u ever liked someone 

>> like liked

Samu🍙// 11:25am

>> are you 12 years old 

>> i’ve had literal girlfriends

>> i’m trying to get ready for the lunch rush and you’re asking me about crushes?

Me // 11:25am

>> is a few days too soon to know

Samu🍙// 11:26am

>> depends i guess

>> you like someone?

Atsumu doesn’t know how to respond to that, so just hits the call button. 

“I told you I’m tryna be prepared,” Osamu immediately berates his older brother, talking about how there’s only so much time before he’s going to be swarmed. 

“Well, if ya shut it for a minute, I’d be able to talk.”

“Fine. So who’s my favorite twin crushin’ on?” he asks the question in a song, making Atsumu regret the call in the first place.

“I’m your only twin, dumbass,” he mutters, interrupting Osamu before they go off topic again. “I don’t know if I like her. We’ve hooked up a few times,” a gross comes from down the line, “but she’s just cool. I don’t know, dude. I just want to get to know her more.” 

“So what does it matter if you like her? Just get to know her.” Coming from Osamu it seems simpler. Sometimes his thoughts can run off, get muddled and confused and overwhelming. But Osamu’s always been the calmer, the one who can keep him on track and call him out when he needs it. If Atsumu is a boat in a storm, Osamu is the anchor. 

A few more words are spoken back and forth, general housekeeping to know what’s happening in each other's lives, before Osamu has to work, and Atsumu is left with his thoughts. There’s still that annoying doubt at the back of his mind. A little worm that’s dug so far down, even with someone else helping it’s hard to get out. 

What if you don’t like him?

You apologise for his cold rosy cheeks and how long he had to sit and watch. He reassures you that he had fun, the both of you headed back outside into the heat of the city. You fall into place easily next to one another, walking by the river rather than ordering a car back to the hotel. Atsumu had persuaded you, protesting that without the warmth of the sun, how could he ever regain feeling in his nose. 

“Next time you’ll have to get me on the ice.”

“You already impressed Faiz so much, are you sure you’re ready for the career change?” 

“I’m sure a publicist could work it,” he’s quick to respond, holding hands out wide in front of the both of you, “I can see it now. The great Miya Atsumu conquers the ice skating world. Is there anything he can’t get gold in?” 

“Real humble, Miya,” you say with an exasperated smile. 

“Miya?” he echoes, “and here I thought I was gonna get a nickname.”

You’re either looking up at him with a quizzical stare or the afternoon sun is in your eyes. Either way Atsumu notes that it’s a cute expression, one that brings out the flecks of colour in your irises. 

Pausing for a moment, people shuffle around you, going about their days in the city. Bringing his lips to your ear, you can feel the width of his smile on your cheek. “‘Tsumu, ‘Tsumu, please ‘Tsumu” he whispers the whines - your whines - much to your dismay. 

Pushing him away, you’re only reminded of the hard planes of his abs, and now there’s definitely heat rising in your face. “Shut it Miya,” you wish you said with more defiance. Your grumble let’s him know he’s won your embarrassment.

“Thought ya liked it when I talked,” he teases, twisting you around by the shoulder to keep walking. The way you try and avoid eye contact only makes him want it more, and deciding between poking fun and giving in is all too difficult. 

You come around quickly though, Atsumu using his seemingly effortless charisma to smooth over jokes, bring you back out of your shell. There’s a feeling that he can, innately, get people on his side. Despite his seeming arrogance and over-confidence, he takes the quips you throw at him on his shoulder. Letting deep chuckles spill off his tongue and reassuring touches whenever he responds in a similar jest. 

Atsumu tugs you left and right, pointing your way back to the hotel with ease. The walk proves longer than the twenty minutes Google Maps promised you, trusting Atsumu when he says he ‘knows these streets like the back of his hand’. He does know them pretty well, at least knows that right turns should in fact be left. But the banter and laughter you two are sharing is doing more to him than the sun. It’s still surface level, discussions about plans for the week, where your home is. There’s a segment featuring each of your favorite colours, foods and films. 

“Really? Rear Window?”

“What? It’s a classic!” 

“The fact that you’ve even seen it surprises me.”

He goes on to explain that yes, it was the only film available at the hotel, but that he admired the determination of the main character. You wouldn’t have pegged him for watching anything considered old, or classic, let alone admiring the story. “And Grace Kelly, right?”

“I mean,” he begins sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck “yeah but—” 

Your giggles quiet him. 

Eventually you’re back where it began, standing outside the hotel looking at one another. 

“So, are you goin’ give me your number or am I goin’ to have to beg you for it?”

“Oh, there’s a chance you’ll beg for it?” 

You don’t miss the glint in his eyes, flashing quickly before it passes. “Is that a no, Goldie?” 

It would be easier if it was a no. Your hands are acting on want, pulling your phone out and handing it to him with contact screen open before you can think too much about it. 

“You better text me.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

Atsumu hopes that you will. Maybe asking him to a meal or if you need him again, to your room. He settles that want next to another. No running before you can even walk. Like Osamu said, just getting to know one another.

Afternoon practice is long. Time spent sweating and running and jumping for hours away from his phone. He’s thinking about hyper active teammates, making sure he’s setting just right for them. Touching you right. All of his energy spent on the blue and yellow ball before him. Spending his energy on you. Then he’s on to letting his mind be consumed by proteins and carbs and what he can eat over the next week. Maybe just a film in, rather than dinner out. Thinking about Kiyoomi who’s acting all analytical, watching the group and remarking on Atsumu’s performance. 

“You seem distracted.” 

But he’s not, of course. He can laugh it off and joke around with Bokuto in the locker room. Purposefully not thinking about earlier in the day. His heart wouldn’t race when he finally can open up his phone. It wouldn’t thump in his chest when he checks his notifications.

 Unknown Number // 5:48pm

>> i can’t think of anything cool to say so

>> hi tsumu✨

[casuallyimagining]

Jealousy Headcanons - OT7

Anonymous asked: Hello! Could you please do a jealousy headcanon for yoongi? Thank you!!

I’ll do you one better, anon. I’ll do jealousy headcanons for all of them. This strayed from headcanons into reactions/preferences very quickly, so if you’d prefer I write some dedicated headcanons, I’ll gladly do that.. (also I’ve combined it with an idea I’ve been tossing around in my head for the past day or so. I’m sorry if Taehyung’s isn’t good—I know the least about him.) Hope you enjoy!!

Jin

He knew you were friends with his bandmates, but he couldn’t help but think you were a little closer with Hobi than the rest.

He hated to admit that his stomach would drop when you laughed at one of Hobi’s bad jokes. He hated that it made him angry when you would go to Hobi with a problem and not him. He wanted to be happy that you were such good friends with one of his closest friends, but every time Jin sees the two of you together, he just ends up upset.

It comes to a head when Jin is walking down the hall one day at the dance studio and hears you laughing. He hears Hobi mumble “Worldwide Handsome” as Jin enters the room and you burst into a fit of giggles, and it makes his blood boil.

As much as he wants to yell and scream at Hobi—at you—not for making fun of him, but to make fun of him to his own girlfriend, and then to hear her laugh at Hobi in a way that she doesn’t laugh with Jin… he wants to badly to fly off the handle.

But at the same time, the rational part of his brain won’t let him. He loves you too much to let something like this get in the way of your relationship. He knows Hobi too well to know the joke was only in good fun, and he knows you too well to know that you would never laugh if it was mean-spirited. Jin doesn’t know if that makes it sting more or less.

So instead of yelling, he spins on his heel and walks right back out the door of the dance studio. He hears Hobi call his name, but he’s too far down the hall to care. He doesn’t hear the door latch, though, and the soft footsteps behind him alert him to the fact that he’s being followed.

The only reason you were even at the dance studio that day was because Jin had asked you out to dinner that evening, and while they were a little late finishing up, the two of you could still get takeout from your favorite spot on the way back to your apartment.

So Jin isn’t surprised that you catch up to him by the elevator, your hand slipping into his as easily as if it were meant to be there. You quirk an eyebrow at him silently, and he hangs his head.

“I’m sorry, jagi,” he mumbles, his thumb ghosting along your knuckles as you wait for the elevator. “He just knows how to push my buttons. Even when I’m not there.”

You hum in response, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to be jealous of him, you know. I love Hobi, but I’m in love with you, Jin.”

The elevator comes then, and he’s glad that pressing the button gives him an excuse to turn away from you so you can’t see the blush or the shit-eating grin that’s plastered on his face.

Yoongi

Yoongi feels like a third wheel when the two of you hang out with Namjoon. You and the Bangtan leader always end up talking poetry, or books, or film, or music in such an intellectual way that Yoongi ends up not being able to follow. So he always ends up sitting silently at the restaurant or in the living room as one of his closest friends monopolizes his girlfriend.

He hates the way you hang on Namjoon’s every word, hates the way that you nod in thought, your eyes focused solely on Namjoon as he says something that Yoongi can only assume is the most brilliant thing in the world.

Yoongi loves Namjoon, thinks of him like a brother, but sometimes he really, really wants to just tell the guy to shut the fuck up.

He finally builds up the courage to tell Namjoon off when the Bangtan leader’s phone rings and he gets up to answer it, leaving you and Yoongi alone in the shared living room of the BTS dorms.

“What do you think of the movie so far, Yoongi?” you question, turning your whole body to face him. You reach out and pull him closer so your legs are touching as you sit on the couch.

It’s then that he realizes that he can’t stay mad at you, not really. Namjoon is charismatic, and you’re friends, and Yoongi wants nothing more than to see you happy. And if that means putting up with you not paying attention to him when Namjoon is around, then so be it.

“I’d like to be able to hear it,” Yoongi jokes, pushing your shoulder lightly and giving you a wide smile. You laugh and promise that you’ll shut up so he can enjoy the rest of the movie.

You turn back to the screen after that, the remote in your hands waiting for Namjoon to return so you can press ‘play.’ Your back rests against Yoongi’s chest, and he slings an arm around your waist to pull you tighter to him.

“You know it’s harmless, right? Me talking with Namjoon?” Yoongi hums in response, but he can feel his face heating up, having been caught. “I really respect his analyses and knowledge. But he’s just a friend.”

Yoongi rests his chin on your shoulder just as Namjoon walks back into the room. You press play on the movie, and true to your promise, you don’t talk nearly as much with Namjoon as the rest of the film plays out.

Yoongi can’t help but smile when you take his hand and lace your fingers together. You might enjoy talking to Namjoon about intellectual stuff, but it’s the love you show Yoongi in the silence that makes him feel like he’s enough.

Hoseok

It was hard for Hoseok to watch you shamelessly flirt with Jin. He knows that’s just your personality—you’re friendly and affectionate with your close friends—it’s part of the reason he fell for you.

But holy shit, watching you and Jin cook together, watching the two of you come up with cheeky dance moves and sing along to the songs blasting through your phone, it really gets to him.

Hoseok is the jokester of the group, and normally, he’d come up behind you and make some sort of wisecrack, but today, he’s not particularly into it. He just feels sad.

Sad that you’re paying more attention to Jin than you are to him. Sad that you hadn’t even noticed him walk through the door. Sad that there’s a hole in your life that Jin seems to fit perfectly into.

He knows that you’re just friends. Hoseok knows that you love him, not Jin. He trusts you to remain faithful. But a small part of him is insecure in your relationship still. And it screams at him that maybe the two of you aren’t on the same page when it comes to how your relationship is developing.

But then you finally notice that he’s home, and your eyes light up in that way that they only do when you lay eyes on him. And Hoseok can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across his face.

“Jagiya! You have to come try this,” you call, waving him into the kitchen. “Jin was just showing me how to make this and I think you’d love it.”

You grab something out of the pot with a pair of chopsticks and offer it to him, your hand under it so it doesn’t drip. He hums in response. Whatever it was, you were right. It was good.

You smile and wipe a bit of sauce off his face with your thumb, and just like that, his insecurities are gone.

Namjoon

Namjoon knows he shouldn’t feel like this. He knows that the strangling sensation in his heart is just irrational jealousy. He knows that however close your friendship with Jungkook becomes, you would never leave him. But does he?

He walks in late one night after a long meeting with Big Hit and an even longer rehearsal with Hobi and Jimin to find you and Jungkook curled up on the couch fast asleep. Jungkook has his head in your lap, and one of your hands is in his hair, the other resting between his shoulder blades. Your laptop is plugged in and sitting open on the coffee table in front of you. Watching a movie, he surmises.

Namjoon can’t help the exasperated sigh he lets out, can’t help rolling his eyes in frustration. It’s times like this when the youngest Bangtan’s pretty face really gets under Namjoon’s skin.

Silently, Namjoon sets his jaw and goes about his nightly routine, washing his face and changing into his pajamas before deciding what to do about you and Jungkook on the couch.

He appreciates your friendship with Jungkook, truly, he does. But it’s nights like this—when he finds the two of you being overly affectionate, or when you seem to confide in Jungkook more than you do him, or when the two of you feed off each other’s competitiveness and end up in some ridiculous competition that only adds fuel to your friendship—nights like this where his insecurities seep through and he doubts himself.

He can’t bring himself to blame you for this. You’re far too amazing, and he knows that you care about him deeply. No, he tends more to reflect inwards when he feels like this, because he knows it’s his problem to sort out. If he caught you asleep on the couch with any other member of the group, Namjoon didn’t think he’d feel nearly as jealous. So what was it about Jungkook, then?

Of course, Jungkook is kind. And he’s energetic. And your personalities match in ways that Namjoon had never thought possible. It didn’t hurt that Jungkook was handsome. And there it is, Namjoon thinks as he steps back into the living room to check on the two of you. That old insecurity flaring its head again.

He considers leaving the two of you on the couch for the rest of the night. It’s late, and he really doesn’t want to wake either of you if you’re truly resting. But then he sees the odd angle that your head is resting at, and he takes pity on you. So ever so gently, he shakes your shoulder.

It doesn’t take long for you to wake up, stretching when you do. Namjoon hears your shoulder pop, and you rub it, a scowl on your face. Then, you see him, and you shoot him a tired grin, your eyes lighting up,

“Hey handsome,” you whisper, making grabby hands at him, beckoning him closer. Namjoon smiles, and he knows that he would believe anything you said, so long as you say it with as much conviction as you just spoke with. He believes you when you kiss him, soft and tender and full of love. He believes you when you chuckle softly at Jungkook snoring softly in your lap, the look on your face saying everything he needed it to. And he believes you when you tell him that you cleared your schedule for his next day off, promising to devote yourself solely to him.

Sure, he might have to deal with feeling jealous of Jungkook every once in a while, but he wouldn’t give you up for the world.

Jimin

Jimin prides himself on keeping a cool head when it comes to you. The two of you have never seriously argued before—he likes to think that he’s good at communicating his needs.

Except for one: your friendship with Taehyung can be a bit much. Jimin knows he should be grateful—he and Tae are close, so it should be a blessing that you fit right into the fold. But he just couldn’t help it.

He gets frustrated that Tae knows your go-to order at coffee shops by heart, and that he always gets food to share with you when he orders out. Jimin knows he shouldn’t get frustrated by that—Tae knows his orders, too—but for whatever reason, it just gets under his skin. Especially when you shoot Tae a smile, or you ruffle his hair.

That is, until one day when Tae, Jimin, and you are hanging out one afternoon and Tae offers to buy dinner that night. You smile warmly at Tae and ruffle his hair, and for a moment, Jimin’s heart sinks again. But then he hears you hum in response.

His heart soars when you cheerfully decline. “Jiminie and I were going to hang out tonight. Next time for sure, though.”

Tae accepts it with a laugh, and a joke about how the two of you are lovebirds, but Jimin doesn’t pay attention. His heart is pounding in in his ears, and he can feel his face flush. He can’t help it—he’s just so happy to hear you choose him.

Taehyung

Tae hates how you and Jimin connect on what seems like the molecular level. The two of you can carry on a conversation about literally anything. Fashion, pop culture, the universe. You and Jimin could talk at length about anything.

When you hang out with Tae, though, the two of you end up sitting in silence. Where you and Jimin could watch a movie and talk the whole time about your favorite characters or what you think will happen next, you and Tae watch in silence, only making comments to each other once in a while.

He knows that Jimin is his best friend, and that he would never intentionally do anything to hurt him. But there are only so many play arguments and deep, meaningful conversations Tae can walk in on before it starts to affect him.

He knows deep down that you love him, and he knows you wouldn’t leave him, especially for Jimin—he knows in his heart that you aren’t actually in love with him, despite his insecurities—but he just loves you so much, and the amount of attention you pay to Jimin makes him feel like he doesn’t make enough of an effort to connect with you.

You tend to notice when Tae is feeling jealous. He doesn’t particularly try to hide it. So when you notice him start to draw into himself, when he starts to get tenser around Jimin, you make sure to pay him extra attention.

Tae never talks about his jealousy, and you don’t want to push him, so you don’t bring it up. You know that someday, you’ll have to address it, but for now, you’re happy to dote on your grumpy boyfriend when he’s feeling this way.

Jungkook

Jungkook’s competitive side doesn’t really play well with his jealousy. He can’t help but see you hanging out with Yoongi as a challenge for him to be a better boyfriend.

He notices that you spend a lot of time with Yoongi, especially when the days are long and hard and when Jungkook can’t spend much time with you. He notices the quiet conversations the two of you share over coffee in the mornings, and the silent looks the two of you send each other before busting out into smiles and giggles.

Jungkook likes to see you happy, but it stings a lot that he isn’t the one making you smile.

When you’re hanging out with Yoongi, he does everything in his power to try to pull your attention away. And yeah, Jungkook knows he’s probably being annoying, but he rarely gets your undivided attention. It upsets him that you try to push him away to continue to pay attention to Yoongi.

You confront him about it one morning after Jungkook successfully manages to chase Yoongi from the shared living room of the dorms. Your ‘what’s your problem?’ is venomous, and Jungkook can’t help but feel like a child being scolded.

He’s silent for a long while, and you let him be. He tries to speak several times, but no matter what he wants to say, it isn’t the right thing. He knows he can be an ass, but he just wants you to love him.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of silence, you silently wrap your arms around him, and you can feel all of the tension in Jungkook’s body disappear. “You don’t have to be jealous of Yoongi,” you mumble into his chest. “He’s just a friend. Sometimes, we both need quiet, y’know?”

And he does know. He knows how sometimes, crowds exhaust you. He can only imagine how the band’s whirlwind schedule affects you.

You kiss him gently then, cupping his cheek in your hands and playfully squishing his cheeks together. “Not all of us can be an endless source of energy, my love.”

He smiles, your hands still pressing his cheeks together, and you can’t help but crack up at the sight. He promises himself then that no matter what, he’ll do better at hiding his jealousy. You love him. That’s what matters most.

[harmoni-me]

Byakuya Togami x Ultimate Hacker Reader!

Hey! I’m back from a mental break and I’m rip, roarin’ and ready to write again! Though I might take awhile to post now due to me wanting to me time for art, I’ll still give this account the love and attention it needs to give people joy! Anyway, enjoy this little fluffy read of our favorite corporate entity <3

“For the love of god PLEASE work with me….” you sat at the front of your large three monitor build, with each of them set up to reveal lines upon multi-colored lines of jumbling code. Your knowledge of Python and Java were on the brink of becoming something less than fluent from every sip of the sickeningly sweet energy drink that sweat on your spare mousepad. 

It was no exaggeration how jittery you were right now. I mean, you just chugged three caffeinated-stuffed drinks, your mind was ecstatic with what was going to happen after the code had rendered, and also it was 2 am. Though this was bound to happen, with you being the number one hacker in the country, sleepless nights were a given.

But, this little project was mainly for yourself, since you were finished with all the rest of your clients.

Basically, you were trying to hack into Japan’s DIET building treasury databases to see if you could hack the Japanese stock market to temporarily crash, then shoot up into the sky, then somehow sell all of your investments within an x amount of time that this code would provide for you.

So, yeah, that’s another reason why you’re a little on edge…

The rendering was about fifty percent completed, and to say you were having a heart attack was an understatement. You could get arrested for life, maybe assassinated in the night, kidnapped, used as a hostage, maybe even be written about in the newspapers. You spun out of your chair and started anxiously speed-walking from one end of the room to another.

“Holy shit, why did I even go through with this. I’m so stupid it’s not even funny. Oh! The precious PubSec members, take me now!” you sang, crazily talking to yourself as some sort of comforting mechanism. You glanced over to your monitor to see that the loading was buffering a bit, so the rendering had only jumped to 60%.

“You know, I really should have thought of a plan B on this one-” A knock sounded from your bedroom door, echoing and reverberating in the hollow portions of your brain.

“Y/N. What in the world are you doing?” a voice rang from the outside of your room.

“Oh shit…” a realization struck like a bullet in the head. You scurried over to the door, leaning into it while your hand was on the door knob.

“Ahahaha, I-I was just about to go to bed, Byakuya! I was just talking to myself because, you know, I’m an introverted hermit who loves stupid letters and numbers! So, uh, night!” You belched out the words so unconvincingly that it made your stomach cringe in disgust. Whelp, you were definitely screwed.

“Y/N. Let me in…” Byakuya sternly replied. He obviously was not having it, as always when it came to your...personal hacking shenanigans. The last time Byakuya walked in on one of your hacking extravaganzas was when you hacked into the Pentagon. It ended in success, but your husband presented you with a hell of a lot of lectures on the punishment of the law, and how your hacking fun could affect the Togami family.

Like that was going to stop you from making fat bucks.

“Ok….but promise not to freak out too much and take it out on me?” You pleaded through the door, not wanting Byakuya’s harsh words to affect you at this hour of the night, and the situation that you're in.

“It’s all on you whether you get scolded or not.” Byakuya said, frustration present in his voice. You shifted your weight more onto the doorknob, and turned to see that your rendering had reached 70%. Why were you so loud when you talked to yourself?

“I won’t let you in unless you promise me...please…” You mumbled, a bit of your guilt dripping in your words. You heard a heavy sigh on the other side, then a stand-still of silence following after. 

“I...promise. Can I come in now?” Byakuya’s voice softened up, making your tense frame unwind from the now more comfortable atmosphere.

You creaked open the door just a bit, peaking out to see your husband with messy, freshly-washed hair, and comfy clothes that he would only dare put on when he planned to go straight to bed. 

“You have to pinky-swear on it.” You stuck your arm out of the crack of the door, sticking your pinky finger out as a treaty of promise to Byakuya. The blonde just chuckled tiredly, lazily latching his pinky with yours, and shaking it a little as confirmation.

“It’s a deal, now what did you do this time?” Byakuya strutted into your room, now having access to your coding domain. He automatically directed his attention to your multitude of computer screens, all of them running at full power to run the code you had just implemented into the DIET building security firewalls. You walked over to him, slightly nervous from what you had to break down to him, because you KNEW he would understand all of it, and would most likely be in flames about this little project you had going on.

“Alright, so I basically got bored and I didn’t really have any clients, so I did something...questionable.” You started off, swaying back and forth with your nerves tickling your stomach.

“Define ‘questionable’” Byakuya asserted, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one side.

“I might have created an AI program that will hack itself into the firewall of Japan’s national DIET treasury building to temporarily crash the stock market for a small increment of time, then make it shoot back up the charts so I can sell all of the cheap as hell stock I would buy when it crashed and-” 

“I’ve...heard enough” Byakya raised his voice, but not in an aggressive way, but more of a shocked sort of fashion. The heir started to massage his temples with his middle and index finger, staying quiet the whole time while doing so.

You shuffled closer to the man, bowing your head down in shame. You knew you shouldn’t have done something so impulsive to simply just keep your fingers warm and your brain entertained. You should have read that book that Byakuya recommended, or maybe baked a little cake and decorated it with fun colors, or finished that movie series that you were meaning to complete-

 Your rushing and regretful thoughts snapped and turned into dust when you felt warm arms around your frame. It was delicate, yet it pulled you in, as if protecting your from the outside world and the horrors it beheld.

“A promise from the Togami family will never be broken, and I also just happen to despise yelling at you, so...I just want to remind you of something.” Byakuya’s low, grumbly, and tired voice had kicked into gear, making his droopiness contagious to yourself.

“I never planned on marrying someone who I couldn’t protect with my life.” Byakuya let out a weary sigh, “But, when you do things like this, there is only so much I can do. You know the consequences, and I’m just…” Byakuya paused, leaving your heart feeling even heavier than it was before.

“I’m worried about what could happen to you, Y/N. I nark on you because I care. What a husband I would be if I simply let you be arrested, or beheaded, or whatever it may be.” The hold on you only grew stronger, yet it was as if you felt wrapped in a shield against any opposition.

“I worry, I scold, and I try my damned hardest to protect you all because I care. I don’t want anybody to take you away from me, alright? Remember that.” Byakuya���s hand tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and gently kissed your forehead, conveying the words into an action that anyone could understand.

“I’m sorry, Byakuya. What I did was impulsive and stupid and-”

“Did you make sure to code your coverups?” Byakuya suddenly spoke, a serious look in his eyes.

“Well, yeah. It would be kinda stupid if I didn’t-”

“Then it’s settled, you crash the economy, and I’ll monitor. Just don’t do something like this ever again, or you're going to have to sit through something that’s way worse than a lecture on the law, am I clear?” Byakuya let go of your body, and walked over to your workspace to apparently ‘Monitor’ the situation you were about to dive yourself into.

“I can’t really say for sure that I can keep that promise for that long…” You plopped yourself in your comfortable office chair, spinning yourself in the direction of your now only slightly drowsy husband.

You heard Byakuya grumble from your answer, then, after a minute of clear internal debate, he stuck out his arm to you, and delicately lifted his pinky to your direction.

“...”

“Hurry it up, you know what I want, pinky-swear on it.” Byakuya never looked at you when saying those words, but your heart was still stolen from the message either way. This man really knew what he was doing to make your heart throb out of your chest.

“Well, I can’t say no to that...:” You smiled gummily to your husband, cutely locking pinkies together, as if they were meant to be there forever to seal a bond that remains forever unsevered.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2652 Warnings: none

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 3 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The past few days have been exactly what you wanted a month ago, peacefully silent, yet somehow it doesn’t feel right. You were able to finish your paper in record time, fully concentrating on your work but part of you missed the incessant music from next door.

There was an odd comfort knowing Bucky was home playing, and with the knowledge of his musical talent you now wanted to hear what he would come up with. Getting to know him briefly was… well, it was something. It could have gone a lot better if you didn’t stick your foot in your mouth.

Bringing up the music related noise was one thing but how you ever managed to bring up the noise of his “nighttime activities” made you wish you could have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. You had done your best to avoid Bucky ever since, rushing out of or into your apartment as quickly as possible. You weren’t sure how you could ever face him again but you couldn’t deny that a small part wanted to.

Facing your shared wall you imagined where Bucky might be, picturing him on his couch, lounging across the cushions of the soft leather as he leisurely plucks away at the guitar strings, sounding out a melody. Or was he more focused, sitting upright and gliding his dexterous fingers across his keyboard? Was he at his computer editing his melodies? Was he thinking of you?

The silence was deafening. With your palm pressed against the wall you began to lean in with your ear, hoping you could hear anything. With a slight gasp you jumped back, there was noise but not any coming from next door. Your phone buzzed against the coffee table, with Steve’s face illuminating the screen.

“Hey Steve!”

“Guess who I saw going into Sweetgreen?” The strain in his voice clued you in to the right guess, Lillian. “Yup, and she wasn’t alone … yeah she’s still with Jason, for now,” he muttered under his breath, expecting her to cheat again.

“I’m sorry Steve. You know you deserve better than her, right? I know you know this.”

Steve sighed heavily. Even though he knew what you were saying was right, seeing his ex still hurt a lot.

“Thanks Y/N, I do know that, doesn’t mean I’m going to torture myself though and go in there so is it cool if I pick us up something else? I’m in the mood for carbs.”

Chuckling at Steve’s admission you couldn’t help but agree, salads were great and all but all this Bucky stress you’ve put on yourself definitely makes you crave heavier foods.

“Tacos?”

“Mmmm, yes tacos! Extra guac please Rogers!”

You set your table in preparation for Steve to come over with food, remembering to throw your wallet on the table to give him money. The last time he came over you had forgotten, being so caught up in reliving the terrible memory of your interaction with Bucky. Steve might have been right, if he handled talking to Bucky maybe you wouldn’t be so worried about running into him.

“Sam tells me you guys spoke,” Steve said, digging a tortilla chip into the container of guacamole.

You chewed quickly to swallow the bite you had taken. “Why do you always ask me a question mid-chew?” you joked. “But yes, we did speak and…” your voice lifted with anticipation as Steve’s eyes widened, waiting for you to continue. “He gave me the number for Elena Rodriguez. She’s head of the social work department and…”

“Oh my god Y/N please just tell me!” Steve begged.

“I set up an interview with her next week!”

Steve’s eyes crinkled with his excited smile though it faded shortly after as you nervously mused about fitting the internship into your schedule.

“One step at a time,” Steve offered with a small laugh.

He’s right. One step at a time. You didn’t even go on the interview yet, you might not even be hired for it; the thought of which worries you even more, but you remind yourself to breathe and take things as they come.

The elevator ascends slowly, filled with your eager coworkers looking to join the rush home. As it lets off on the ground floor, everyone dashes to the heavy glass doors as you leisurely stroll to the security desk.

Mr. Lee had a big smile on his face as he seemed to be in the middle of telling Steve a story. Slowly you approached the desk, seeing Steve smiling down at something in his hands.

“That’s what I said but Howard was ahead of his time. A comic book movie…” Mr. Lee chuckled. “It didn’t work in ’47 but it sure would be a hit now.”

“Oh, what’s this?” you asked.

Steve held up a sealed copy of a comic book, Kid Colt, which you were unfamiliar with.

Leaning over the desk towards you Mr. Lee spoke, “Tony found that for me in his father’s things. That’s how Howard and I met. He wanted to make a movie outta this. Stark Pictures. He never did though, the whole thing became a big tax write off.”

“I didn’t know you knew Howard Stark.”

“Oh yeah,” Mr. Lee boasted humbly, “Since I was seventeen. He was a good man. You know he was so proud to finally be a father. He worked a lot, probably more than he should have but he had Maria and the nannies bring little Tony over to the office. Tony Stank I’d call him. Oh boy, you could smell those diapers from a mile away it was so bad.”

Hearing Mr. Lee talk about the head of your company so freely like this made you laugh. It also made Tony Stark seem a bit more human. As far as you knew he was a workaholic who may or may not be seeing Pepper Potts. You’ve caught the way she looks at him though, with an extra twinkle in her eye or how she hesitates for the smallest moment to gather herself before going into his office.

“Tony Stank, that’s amazing,” you laughed, wondering if Pepper has ever heard this story before. “Well, have a good night Mr. Lee!”

Steve came around to the front of the desk standing tall, filling out his blue uniform with his broad stature. It was unfair how he could pig out on food with you and not show any sign of it. Meanwhile, your stomach has been rumbling all day from last night’s dinner.

“I’m on the late shift today,” he frowned.

“Poor Stevie,” you joked, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye. “Not that my night will be any better, I’ve got a shit ton of laundry to do.”

“Enjoy the sweaty laundromat then.”

“Oh I will,” you said sarcastically.

The steady hum of the running washing machines drowned out the sound of the newscast coming from a small TV mounted on the wall. It’s muggier inside than out, and even with the door open you can’t escape the permeating smell of cheap soap and mildew.

The wash cycle is nearly over so you move from the metal chair you had been uncomfortably sitting on, listening to music to pass the time, and lazily stroll over to the machine that is spinning your clothes. Quarters jingle in your pocket as you walk, ready to be placed in the dryer as you wait some more. You hate laundry day.

It’s crowded too, with all the chairs taken and other people leaning against the wall. A few kids were running around screaming, not helping their tired mother who looked too exhausted to even reprimand them as she folded all their clothes.

No one looked happy to be there, not even the attendants who had to apologize to the screaming man who didn’t understand why he couldn’t use one of their reserved machines. It was a cut throat world on laundry night, with other patrons fighting to stake claim for the next free machine.

A loud buzz lets you know your clothes are done, you wheel a basket over and open the door. The shadow of the clearly impatient person waiting for your machine blocks the dull light from the fluorescents above so you hope to grab everything quickly without dropping anything on the dirty linoleum floor.

“It’s all yours– oh.” Your mouth hung open, not expecting to see Bucky standing beside you. “H-hey.”

“Hey Y/N. Didn’t want to startle you,” he sheepishly said. “Uhmmm, is this free?” Bucky gestured to the obviously open machine.

You nodded quickly. Not knowing what else to say you stared awkwardly at the basket of damp clothes and said, “I’m gonna dry these.” Smooth.

Turning around you let out a deep breath and worried over what would happen next. It would be extremely rude to ignore Bucky and continue to listen to music. He hasn’t done anything wrong to you, not this week at least, but you were too scared to risk saying something stupid, again.

It would take at least a half hour for your clothes to dry so you put on a brave face and decided to walk back towards Bucky. Dressed in casual black shorts and a white t-shirt, his smooth, toned arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against a support column, squinting to read the poorly transcribed closed captioning on the TV.

“Hey neighbor,” you said, offering a small friendly wave as he turned his head.

Bucky smiled, standing upright as he turned to face you completely to greet you back. He looked genuinely happy to see you, which made you feel even worse for how you left things.

“I’m sorry if I made things weird the other day. I didn’t mean to,” you blurted out before your brain gave any thought to see if this was a good idea.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, the gaze of his ocean blue eyes staring right through you. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a cavalier air.

“So how’s the music coming along?” You were truly curious, having not heard any sound.

“It’s not bothering you, right?” Bucky winked.

“No, not at all,” you smiled softly. “Are you still working on that one piece?”

Bucky asked which one and you hummed the tune. Closing your eyes you missed the way his own lit up in delight hearing you repeat his melody.

“I know I complained about the noise but honestly it was so beautiful,” your voice lightened and he felt the weight of emotion even through the simple way you described it. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t focus.”

Bucky adjusted his weight, needing to ground himself after your words made him feel as light as air. His music meant so much to him, working tirelessly to bring to life the sound he envisioned in his mind, to know that the unfinished piece had such an effect already made his heart swell with pride.

He developed his music like a chef crafting a recipe. Each instrument was a different ingredient, carefully selected notes were gathered on the counter, waiting to come together in a symphonic skillet. The flavors of music combine, heating up together the piano is covered in the spice of an electric guitar, with the drumming rhythm simmering beneath the surface as the sound of strings are poured generously over the top.

In the end the dish is a delicious feast for the ears but here you were, happily devouring the unfinished ingredient in its raw form.

“Yeah…” his voice came out breathless. Catching himself Bucky cleared his throat. “It’s actually for an upcoming video game. I can’t say which, but it’s part of an emotional scene when the main character finds his family is gone.”

“I can sense the depth of it.”

“That’s not even the best part,” he explained as his face grew with a wide smile. Bucky became lost in describing the emotion of the violins that would come in. “They’re the voice of the character and when he’s lost everything I have them coming in, crying out in pain. It’s sharp and strong, and beautifully tragic.”

Listening to Bucky describe his music resonated in your soul. You saw the complete love and passion he had for it and once again you felt terrible about asking him to stop.

“I’d love to hear it, if that’s okay.”

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and Bucky smiled, nodding before he spoke his answer. He couldn’t wait for you to hear everything together.

You passed the time by getting to know each other a little more. Bucky has a younger sibling named Rebecca who moved west to work as an avian veterinarian in a bird sanctuary.

“My parents are lost without them around,” Bucky joked. “Do you know how hard it is to try to explain how to use Skype to them over the phone?”

“Oh believe me, I know. Somehow my mom always calls at the worst time to have me explain the most basic function on her phone that she already knows because we’ve gone over it a million times but…” You threw your hands up as Bucky joined in with your laughter.

When your clothes were dry Bucky gave you some space to fold them alone which you appreciated, not wanting to showcase your intimate items in front of him. He was still a stranger, sort of, but you were glad you were getting to know him.

Checking the time you realized it was on the late side and you still needed to shower before bed. Your clothes were packed neatly into a laundry bag, well most of them were at least. One sock managed to get eaten by the dryer to your dismay, and you hoped its pair was somewhere on your floor having fallen out as you prepped the laundry.

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you gripped the bottle of detergent with your other hand and walked towards Bucky.

“Hey,” you called out to Bucky who lifted his head from his phone. “I’ve got a few things to do tonight still so can I take a rain check on hearing your music?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky did his best to mask his disappointment but he understood. He noticed the slump of your shoulders, balancing the laundry bag high on one side and letting your other limb hang low with the weight of the heavy bottle.

“Do you want me to carry that back?” he asked.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I can manage.”

The apartment was only two blocks away, two long blocks but still, you didn’t want to inconvenience Bucky even though judging by the curve of his biceps it wouldn’t be a problem.

Bucky walked with you to the front of the laundromat as you smiled and said goodnight.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered, watching as you walked down the sidewalk until he could no longer see you in the crowd.

The words stayed on his lips like they were always meant to be there and Bucky has a brief flash of a life he’s never thought about.

A warm bed, made even warmer by the figure curled against him. His breath syncs with theirs and he’s at peace. His heart beats to the rhythm of love and his lips purse together to plant a soft lingering kiss on their forehead. A smile secures itself on his face because he’s truly happy; surrounded by the comforting feeling knowing that when he wakes up that person, his love, will be by his side.

The machine buzzes at the end of its cycle dragging Bucky back to a reality that has him gasping for breath. He steps outside for a minute for air, needing to clear his mind of the vision that seemed so real it scared him; for better or worse he can’t quite say.

PART 5

[one-boring-person]

Hii long time no see!

Could you possibly write me an one-shot where the reader is having a anxiety attack because of quarantine (online school) and the boys help her trough it, and finish her schoolwork for her?

Hey! Thank you for requesting! I'm not the most knowledgeable on anxiety attacks, but I have first-hand experience of the stress of online education, so I've done my best!😊💛

Take A Break.

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

It takes all I have not to throw my calculator into the wall as it shows me the same result it has been for the past half hour. The wrong result. 

My head has long since started pounding, my frustration rising as my brain brings up all the tasks I have yet to complete to the forefront of my mind, my heart wrenching at the thought of the amount of work still to do. A dull ache has set into my lower back, the pain being the result of hours of sitting in the same place, my eyes definitely strained from overuse, the constant staring at a screen having had significant impacts on me these past few weeks. The writing on the page swirls and blurs into a mess of symbols and letters, the diagrams too complicated for my tired mind to properly compute. 

Groaning in helpless frustration, I throw down my pen and drop the calculator to the floor, my head falling to rest on my arms as I bend over the desk, my eyes squeezed shut as I try not to think about the workload. It doesn't help, and my stress levels only climb steeply with each attempt at trying to get past the seemingly impossible wall of hopelessness. Normally, I'd be on top of all my work, I'd have free time and I'd feel a whole lot more relaxed. But that was before I spent all my days listening to my teachers drone on behind a screen, my eyelids drooping closed every five minutes, my focus diverted by some tiny distraction, eventually finding myself incapable of recalling the last ten minutes of classwork. Having terrible network problems don't help, either; most of the teachers are incredibly incompetent in regards to technology, and find the concept of using their computers for teaching unfeasible,  allowing for hours and hours of disjointed lessons. 

With this in mind, the same teachers then set tonnes of homework, requiring it for the next day, creating truckloads of work for me, who already has enough on my plate as it is. I haven't even finished one piece of tonight's assignments, and there's four of them still to be done.

Tears form at the corners of my eyes at the reminder, my stress boiling over as I come to realise just how hopeless it really is for me to get this done in time. Ragged breaths leave me as I try to fight off the uncomfortable tightening in my chest, my head starting to spin, my hands clenching painfully on the table, the pen in my hand snapping from the force of my grip. Ignoring it, I simply keep my head in my arms as I prepare myself to continue.

The sudden weight of a hand on my shoulder jerks me from the safespace between my head and the desk, my body snapping around to face the newcomer. A sigh of relief escapes me as I catch sight of the four vampires arranged around my room, each of them watching me with concern. David stands over me, his gloved hand on my shoulder, blue eyes narrowed down at me.

"(Y/n)? What's wrong?" He questions quietly, rubbing his thumb over my skin gently.

"Nothing." I respond, collecting myself unsuccessfully, only realising there are wet streaks on my cheeks when the platinum blonde carefully catches a tear on the tip of his finger.

"This doesn't look like nothing. What happened?" He tries again, the boys each coming to stand around me, Paul latching himself onto my back somehow.

I regard them for a moment before replying.

"I'm just stressed. School is really taking its toll on me. I have a tonne of homework due for tomorrow, and if I don't get it done, I'll get marked down, and I still have to figure out how I'm gonna manage to sit an exam next week even though I can't do it in school. And I'm really struggling with content, too. I never understand what's going on because I get so distracted, and the lessons always break up anyway because the teachers don't know what they're doing. And I haven't left the house in days because of this stupid virus." I take a breath, stopping myself before I can ramble on, "I'm sorry, it just got a bit much."

The boys say nothing at first, exchanging a look before David is pulling me over to the bed, settling himself down on it with me lying between his legs, my back lying against his chest. Confused I go to get up again, only for Marko to plonk himself down on my legs, resting his head on my stomach, a cheeky grin on his angelic face.

"What are you doing? I have to get this work done!" I protest, wriggling until David wraps his arms around me, trapping my arms against me with a chuckle.

"Take a break, (Y/n). God knows you've earned it." He purrs to me as he gently kisses my neck, the action reassuring rather than intimate in this moment.

"But-"

"Hey, no "buts"." Paul smirks, dropping onto the bed with us, taking up one of my hands and starting to carefully run his fingers over it. Each movement is soothing, the sensation of his cold skin against mine serving to calm my racing nerves.

"You should get some sleep, (Y/n). School can wait for once." Dwayne chips in, joining the rest of us and copying Paul in his actions, rubbing his fingers over the bone structure of my hand.

Still unsure, I let myself relax a little, enjoying the comforting touches of the four doting vampires, glad to have a group of loving boyfriends ready to reassure me. Under their ministrations, I feel my eyelids start to droop, the tension slowly flowing from my body with each caress, my lethargic mind desperately needing the reprieve the boys are offering me. Gladly, I fall limp in David's arms, quickly allowing myself to drift off to sleep after days and days of receiving next to none.

Upon waking the next morning, I feel appropriately rested for once, my energy at a seemingly high level, the headache gone. Somewhat content, I slowly climb out of the bed and go to the desk, noticing its tidied state, as well as the neatly written note resting on my laptop.

"Why do all the work for yourself when there's four other people you could share with?"

Smiling, I then look to the side, where I notice all the homework from the night before sat, completed, the papers all piled neatly in one place. 

"They did it for me?" I mutter to myself, flicking through the sheaf of work, gratitude flooding me at the idea of being on top of all my work for once. I'd get more tonguth, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about the stuff from the night before.

[damn-stark]

Skywalker

Chapter 2 of Dark Temptations

A/N- I will never got tired of saying that I love Ben solo! Anyway yeah, I love how this turned out, so let me know what you thought?

Warning- violence, swearing, ANGST, SLOWBURN, snoke, more Ben solo moments, LONG chapter, it hurt my heart to write the last part (you’ll see)

Pairing- Dark!Poe x Skywalker!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

A quiet gasp escaped your lips as you saw the man you once knew years ago, “Poe Dameron?”

The fresh bacta on the wound you caused slightly crinkled as the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk. “Speechless?”

You blink, “unimpressed.”

Big Lie.

You counter sharply. “You’re still a monster.”

He swallows thickly, combing one hand back through his well groomed and gelled hair. A deafening silence hanging over the both of you for the first time since you had woken up. Not that you would want to say anything to him. Or well there was a lot you wanted to say, but right now all you could think about was the way your body felt, the way your head pounded and the way that you couldn’t feel nothing from the force.

Perhaps it was whatever they had drugged you with. Whatever was causing this enormous headache. It was going to come back, soon…..right?

“Why so quiet?” He spoke, finally breaking the silence, “You wouldn’t stop talking a minute ago.”

You shot him a glare before a question surfaced in your mind. Maybe there was no need to ask, because of what it could bring, but all you wanted was one simple answer and nothing more. To bring ease to your tourment.

“Why did you do it…” what was the right way to call him, Poe? Nomad? Poe just felt so natural, you saw his face and that’s all you thought to say. But when the knowledge of who he portrayed to be hit; the First Orders honored General, beloved Ace pilot, Snoke’s admired dark force apprentice, all you saw was Nomad. That was conundrum….Poe or Nomad.

“Poe?”

That was it.

His eyes instantly met yours at the sound of his name coming out your mouth, a barely noticeable falter on his serious demeanor making you smirk.

“He’s dead. That man is dead.” He grumbled as his jaw clenched.

The smirk on your lips fell and you just ignored his statement to continue with your question, “Jacen loved you like brother. He treated you like one of us, you were one us.”

Poe scowled, “but I wasn’t one of you.” He began to approach you again, this time whatever cockiness he carried gone completely. “Your father never saw my potential, he just viewed me as a simple orphan with nothing to offer his failed Jedi order. Threw me aside like trash.” He stood inches before you and clasped his hands on his back, the feeling of his eyes heavily locked on yours making you slightly squirm.

It’s not that he made you uncomfortable, no. His glare was just intense. The anger lit within his eyes as he spoke of what you brought up was clear, it made goosebumps grow all over your skin. You wanted to look away, but also found that you couldn’t.

“Let me guess,” you grumble, “Snoke saw potential.”

“Yes, he opened my eyes to what I could do.” He explained with a little bit of too much pride, “it was always there. The force. He helped me see it within myself. He made me who I am today. Made me more powerful than Jacen could have ever been, or, you could ever be.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “please, I almost killed you, if you were really all that powerful you wouldn’t have let me touch you.”

His adam’s apple rose before it slowly slid down, his words and smug smile contradicting the conflict and anger in his eyes. “But you didn’t kill me. Why?” He leaned his head closer and slightly cocked his head to the side to await for an answer he was never going to let you say. “Because you’re weak, like all the other Jedi you adore.”

You don’t let his words hurt you, and instead you narrow your gaze and copy his smug smile, “but I did get hit. Nice scar by the way, it suits your face.”

A small growl escapes his lips and he reaches for your throat, but is stopped by the door sliding open, the sound of light footsteps making him pull away and fall back to stand where he was before.

“What have you gotten out of her?” You heard a soft voice ask.

Poe shook his head, “nothing. She seems to be resisting the truth serum.”

The same soft footsteps approach closer, a pair of light brown eyes illuminating by the dim light above as Rey walks under the light. “What about the other test?” She questioned, her eyes slowly examining you.

“It worked.”

A faint smile showed on her lips as she now stood before you, “good.” She slowly extended her hand out, tilting her palm upwards and letting it hover over your forehead. A new pain adding to your already increasing throbs and pings, a new heavy pressure hitting your mind, feeling as if something was actually squeezing your brain. The feeling made you groan and for sweat to once again roll down your face, a pained cry leaving your lips as the pressure built.

She smirked. “Let’s talk.”

——

Ow.

Ow.

“Ow!” Your eyes slowly flutter open, taking in the same dull room as before. Only this time no looming presence of Nomad. Or Poe. Or however he went by wasn’t lurking in the corner.

“Sorry.” Someone fumbled, pulling your gaze to see a stormtrooper in a black uniform carefully trying to loosen the restraints around your wrists. His actions going unbothered and passing surprisingly as minimal danger to the back of your head, the sound of his words alerting you more than they should have. It was the first time you’ve ever heard a stormtrooper apologize….was this a fever dream?

No. Your head still ached. In a different type of pain this time. If it were to be rated on a scale of one to ten, then would be a solid eight, ten and beyond being the explosion of a pain that was caused by Rey’s attempts to mind probing. Now you felt like your body and mind were physically exhausted, lazy. The lights, as dim as they were, hurt your eyes, it just felt like you were getting off the biggest hangover thanks to her attempts.

“Ow.”

Again with the pinch.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch. It wasn’t until he expressed a soft, “finally.” Did the pinching on your skin stop and both your arms were set free and you were falling forward, feeling somewhat grateful that the stormtrooper was there to catch you before your face plummeted to the metal ground.

“Where are you taking me?” You grumble.

The stormtrooper ignores you and grabs your arm to begin guiding you out the door, your other hand which was surprisingly free and bandaged after the adrenaline packed stunt you pulled to stop, Nomads blade instantly lifted to cover your eyes with the back of your hand as brighter lights stung your eyes.

“Princess.”

Your eyes shift to the voice and a loud groan leaves your lips at the recognition of who it was. “Don’t call me that. I don’t like you. You don’t get to call me any nicknames.”

Nomad chuckled under his helmet, “I don’t care.”

You roll your eyes and have no choice but to drag your feet as they guide you forward. “Where are you taking me?”

Nomad brought his hand up to wrap his gloved fingers around your arm, securing that you wouldn’t try anything before he revealed what you asked. “Snoke. He’s been anxious to meet you since he found you rose from the ashes.”

Never died. So technically didn’t rise from anywhere. But he would’ve known that if he really took time to scour the place that unfortunate day….

“Now I wouldn’t try anything, if I were you.” Nomad continued explaining, “Snoke isn’t one to tolerate any shit you try. So take this as a warning.”

Choosing to ignore him you stay quiet, letting your eyes wander the halls you pass, the stormtroopers and officers that stop at the sight of the man next to you out a form of respect. How stupid—suddenly your eyes widen as you pass by a hanger with plenty of TIE-fighters you could use to escape. Your hands were loose so it wouldn’t be hard. The only thing was...these two men.

Hmm...secretly you let your eyes slowly examine Nomads black uniform. One that was designed like the stormtroopers at your other side. Only it was more...fitted to his body, more extravagant. He had a long dark scarf around his neck that traveled down his back, almost like a cape or cloak would. At his side he had his vibrosword. Both items that differed from the trooper next to you.

But there was only one thing you truly needed; You let your hand ease causally, waiting for a moment before you shifted your arm around his hold, and waited again. He didn’t do anything, so you wiggled your fingers, the tip of your fingers sliding on the handle of his vibrosword. Again another wait; Quickly you eyed him from the corner of your eye before stretching your fingers again, this time grabbing a hold of the cold handle to then swiftly pull it out and swing it up to hit the bottom of his helmet. The sudden action ripping the helmet off his head and making his hand leave your arm, making it the perfect opportunity for you to spin your body around and swing at the stormtrooper.

Whilst ignoring the soreness your body felt and the remorse you felt for hitting the apologetic trooper—it was needed—Sorry.

The trooper folded over in pain, leaving his blaster open and unoccupied so you could grab it from his side and shoot his leg before turning back around to face Nomad who had his own blaster pointed at you.

“Don’t try anything,” he seethed, “I will shoot you.”

You smirk, “would Snoke really like that?”

He grimaces and hesitates, letting both of you hold each other’s gaze with both blasters pointed at each other, neither of you making the first move.

The smirk on your lips widened as you tried to use your force abilities to pull the weapon out of his grip. Getting a sudden heavy feeling on your heart when you felt nothing. Again. It felt empty—your smirk fell and you blinked repeatedly in disbelief. The perfect opportunity for Poe to take advantage of your dropped guard to move forward, snatching the blaster from your hand with the force.

Your eyes flicker to him and you attempt to swing his own vibrosword at him, but the fact that you couldn’t feel a single spark of the force within you keeps distracting you. Something that makes it easy for him to disarm you and point the tip of his blade at your throat, watching as the light reflected off his slicked back hair as he tilted his head slightly to the side, “I said don’t try anything.”

You clench your jaw and glare at him, in a blink of an eye throwing your head back and swinging under the blade, immediately jumping back up to your normal height to swing your fist and punch his nose—he groaned and fumbled back, his gloved hand flying to grab the throbbing area. Swiftly you proceed to swing your fist again, recalling the more violent hand to hand combat learned from Han Solo, but only for whatever action you were trying to do stopped as Poe managed to capture your fist and twist it, swiftly moving around you and twisting your arm behind your back to pin you to the nearest wall with his chest pressed against your back.

“I said don’t try anything!” He whispered sharply, his lips close to your ear, before giving your arm another sharp twist and finishing what he needed to say. “Understood?”

You groan, “whatever.”

He pulls away and pulls you with him, now letting the trooper he was with slap cuffs around your wrists.

Smart.

“Go get your leg checked, Finn. I got her.”

The stormtrooper you now know as Finn hesitates, “are you sure?”

Poe offers him a short nod, “I’m sure. She won’t try anything, right?”

You scoff, “right.”

——

The moment you stepped out of the lift, the small hairs on the back of your neck stood up at the cold shiver that crawled down your spine, a falter flickering on your serious demeanor at the ominous sight of what once used to be just stories and sightings, now reality and sitting with a wicked smile on top of a grand throne in the depth of the red throne room. His cold blue eyes locked on you.

At some point of coming out of the oddly elegant elevator, you had stopped in your tracks, the sight of Snoke just completely catching you off guard apparently since Poe was forcefully pulling you forward. His stance physically felt stiffening as he walked by your side toward Snoke, who had yet to speak, his eyes neither moving, just looking dead or like a pale disfigured statue in a sitting position. It wasn’t until Poe took a respectful knee in front of his...master, did Snoke react. A smirk nonetheless.

The action only makes you nervous and apparently braver...a flaw, or so Ben told.

“Supreme Leader Snoke,” you spoke with a certain smugness, “you’re a lot smaller than I’ve imagined”

Snoke chuckled coldly, sitting up straighter and propping his elbow on the arm rest. “At least the evidence of your family name is clear with the same Skywalker humor you all tend to have.”

You shrug, “a great trait to inherit I guarantee you.”

“Frustrating to say the least.” He remarked, making you scoff; “However,” Snoke continued, “Skywalker, it’s good to have you in my presence, an honor I guarantee you.” His eyes shift to Poe’s frozen stance right next to you, a burning glare thrown his way. “It’s good that my...apprentice did not kill you like he did Jacen Skywalker.”

Your jaw clenches at the sound of your brother's name, your head slowly lowered to avoid showing the emotion forming in your eyes; only before any tears could roll down your cheek, you felt your head getting tilted upward by the same force you so oddly couldn’t feel circulating inside you. It left you unbalanced, like a huge part of yourself had gone missing. Feelings Snoke felt all too well radiating off of you.

“I’m sorry,” he remarked, “for causing such disturbance within yourself, but having your force abilities temporarily muted secures me that you won’t try to escape.” Snoke grinned, toying with your lightsabers you just noticed on his lap. “You see, you are of great use to me after all. After Ben Solo’s full turn to the lightside, all no thanks to you and your pesky brother, I was left without a promised Skywalker. I’ve brought you to once and for all turn my dream into a reality.”

Who did this monster think he was? He had so much faith in something that you were never going to agree to. He was a joke. Just like his order and apprentices.

Snoke slowly stood from his throne, the sight making your eyes blink in surprise, the action even causing Poe to react with a quick lift of his head and perplexed gaze. His gaze just like yours only became more confused as Snoke began to walk down the stairs that led up to his throne. The shadow of his figure covering you in a dark hue that almost caused you to give him the satisfaction to react. But you caught yourself before you could react with anything.

“You see, my girl,” he mused in an icy voice, “you are greatness, left untrained alongside your weak father and his failed jedi order, left to be fixed by greatness.” Snoke walked up to you, a smug grin appearing on his disfigured features, sharing words that echoed in your ears. “The potential of your bloodline,” his knuckle went under your chin and lifted it so you could meet his gaze, an urge to back away or punch his face growing increasingly dangerous inside you; “the new Vader. The mighty Y/N Skywalker.”

You grimaced and pulled away, a chuckle erupting from Snoke, the answer already so clear to him without you having to say a word. Letting him choose his words carefully, a strategic move on his part, bait he knew you would have a hard time pass by. “The powers of the dark side are that much greater than what the light side provides. Joining my side guarantees you something you deeply want. Your brother. Alive.”

Instantly your eyes flickered to him, the offer shamefully tempting every part of you. But you needed to remind yourself he was lying. Nothing that came out of his mouth was true. A temptation your father always warned you about. So instead, you lift your head in confidence and try to hide the smugness that threatened to show.

“With respect so, Supreme leader Snoke,” You let your eyes fall on Poe for a moment before looking up to Snoke again, who had now taken a few steps back. Thankfully. “General.” You straighten out your shoulders and stand tall. “I am a Jedi. Like my father before me and his father before him.” Snoke frowns at your comment. “So no, I will not join the dark side, nor your first order. Nor will fall for your lies.”

Snoke snarls and forces you to your knees an invisible hold tightening around your throat, “all Jedi are the same. Foolish in their claims to generosity, morality and greatness. But you’re all the same in order of weakness and stuck to your old ways. But that’s why you all die nonetheless. You are no different.” The hold around your throat drops and he drops you to ground gasping for air, his words now filled with venom, “my apprentice, take her to see the cousin she so much adores for the last time, see what her defiance cost her.”

What. No.

Poe stood up abruptly without the need to be told twice, his hand firmly secured on your arm before he began to drag you away, a new set fear blazing inside you at the thought of Ben still here, after they promised…

Snokes last words rang in your ears, a confidence heard in his voice. “After she watches her cousin die, take her to her cell, she’ll have a lot to think about.”

——

The moment the door slid open, your heart felt like it had shattered into a millions of unrepairable pieces, the sight of Ben, with bruises and blood stains littering on his face caused your breath to hitch in your throat and your eyes to automatically water with no intentions to stop. He was only here because of you. You basically caused him this pain he suffered. All because of a failed revenge plan you so stubbornly tried to see through even against your father's wishes.

“I told you to let him go. You said you would let him go.” You hissed at Poe, his hand letting your arm go once you both were secured inside the small viewing room that blocked you from reaching Ben completely.

Poe smirked, “we lied.” He shrugged, “Sorry.”

He said with so much sincerity.

At his words you huff and move forward to try and attack him, only for him to be quicker and stop you with a simple hold of your arm. “Stop. Trying. To. Fight. Me, Princess, you won’t win.” He pushed you back and turned to press the button that caused the door to Ben to open widely, the sight of Rey basked by the dim light from above welcoming you, causing you to stop whatever escape plan ran to your mind.

Rey at the sound turned to welcome you in with a surprisingly warm gaze on her features, letting you notice something different about her stance since you had last seen her. Nonetheless she shared a quick look with Poe before they both left you inside alone with Ben, your cuffs falling off your wrists once the door was secured shut.

“Ben,” you whisper in a pained voice, slowly taking a few steps towards him, noticing him knelt on the floor with chains securing his arms, his head slightly lifting at the sound of your voice, the black strands of hair matted to his forehead from sweat that gleamed on his face. Giving away the exhaustion they had put him through.

He muttered, “Y/N?” His voice cracking once his eyes fully locked with yours. “You’re okay.” He was more worried about you than he was about himself. A habit had never forgotten even after years of advising him otherwise.

Regardless you huff and kneel in front of him, your hands cradling his cheeks, “don’t worry about me, when you look like this.”

He chuckled lightly and shook his head, swallowing thickly before he spoke up again, every effort sounding pained. “If you have the opportunity, leave. Okay? Don’t stay behind for me.”

You blink and sigh, “you’re crazy, we’re in this together, remember?”

“Not if it—it means putting you in danger. Leave, y/n, promise me you’ll do it.” His gaze hardened on you, his voice attempting to sound stern and in a lot of ways paternal. He needed your assurance. But all you did was stand up and slowly turn to face the darkened transparisteel you knew Rey, and Poe were standing behind watching with amusement.

“Let him go,” You begin, tuning out Ben’s protest, “and I’ll consider what your master offered.” Carefully you walked toward the transparisteel and tried to strain your eyes to see past the tinted transparisteel, but all you saw was your own reflection, lips moving along to the words you uttered, “but I want to watch Ben get on a ship and fly into hyperspace without either of you or your stormtroopers chasing after him. Ben. Will leave with his life or else I’ll resist and deny time after time. Choose.”

The door flew open seconds later, Poe and Rey filtering in, cuffing your hands without hesitation like they had mistakenly done before. Poe held you close and turned you so you could watch Rey release Ben. Only just like you, secured in metal cuffs. Ben’s glare burning on you and to Poe behind you. An action that contained a different reason from the person he chose to glare at. The glare then solely focused on you as you all walked out into the hallway, lasting all the way until you reached an empty hanger. The feeling of it burning on your back making you upset. You were doing this for him, he needed to know that. You couldn’t assure him that through the force connection you had, but he knew you well to know that you were thinking it.

“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Solo.” Poe revealed in an all too fake way.

Ben scoffed, “trust me, Dameron, I’m jumping for joy at the mere sight of you.”

Letting out an amused huff of air at your cousin's sarcasm, Poe turned to you with a glare, receiving an unbothered glance from you.

“I would say my goodbyes if I were you. Chances are neither of you will see each other again.” Rey suggested.

Just as your lips parted and your eyes fell on Ben, the tall man was pushed back into the hanger by Poe, Ben’s bruised face disappearing behind the closed door. An action that made you gasp and your eyebrows to furrow in hidden emotional pain.

“Sorry.” Poe feigned, his arm tugging yours to pull you in front of the transparisteel, only allowing you to watch with tears in yours eyes as Ben was forced into a ship, by Rey, their eyes lingering on each other before he completely disappeared inside the perimeters of the object that was going to depart at any moment.

It wasn’t a fighter ship, so that somewhat calms your nerves of him trying to break you out.

Watching the ship lift and fly out of the hanger, finally made you let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. Nothing assuring you more than watching the ship disappear into the stars in the blink of an eye. Now more than ever in your life, feeling a loneliness growing upon you. Never in your life, even after Jacen’s death had this feeling felt so strong, or ever in reality has it felt this way until now, as you watched Ben leave you...at your request. You were glad he had the chance, given that was probably the idea of forcing him to stay in the first place. So they could get the satisfaction of having you stay and give in to what Snoke suggested. Only.

Fuck them.

Slowly you turned to face Poe, a mischievous smirk tugging on your lips, “sorry, I lied.” You leaned in closer to him, to make sure he heard you, “I would rather throw myself off a ridge then join you or your master.” You hissed, his head snapping to face you at the sound of your words.

Poe firmly gripped onto your arm, his fingers most likely going to leave bruises behind to remind your skin of his strength. “Fine.” He grimaced, pulling you close to the point his face only left inches of space open, his words cold and chilling, his gaze burning and making you squirm under his touch, a single breath of air let out of your mouth at the impact of his chest with yours. The impatience that you noted before so easily released at moments notice. “Then. Rot. In. Your. Cell, for all I care.”

You remarked, matching his cold voice and holding his burning gaze, “with pleasure.”

——

(Ben Solo’s p.o.v)

There weren't many occasions where Ben would get mad at his cousin, given she hardly gave him the need to get upset, but now in the cold tunnel of hyperspace, all he could feel when he thought about her was burning, uncontrollable anger. He could literally feel fumes flying out of his ears at the mere thought of her actions. He had everything under control, until she on her own gave him over, selfishly chose to let them imprison her with the promise of his freedom.

Stupid reckless choice. He was going to bargain for her freedom even if it meant ending up like her. He had it all under control….kinda. His intentions might’ve been interrupted by Snokes apprentice, Rey, but he was going to let himself be kept there until y/n ruined it. Maker!

“Stupid, reckless girl.” He muttered to himself, slamming his fist on the control board, letting the back of his head fall on the seats headrest, lifting his hands to rub his blue and purple bruised eyes, a small groan escaping his lips at the pings of pain that stabbed at his skin when he did such harsh motion. A sudden halt in his breath when something, someone, appeared in front of his closed eyelids, the darkness letting his mind pull out and show him something he had only been really thinking about in the depths of his brain. Rey.

There was something about her that at the slightest sight her, something ignited within him. An odd feeling, one that didn’t leave him cold, like he would’ve felt from someone with the darkness clinging around them like with her, no, it was something….something almost unexplainable. A feeling never felt with anyone else before. Like an awakening. She had also shamefully left her presence within, stained his mind with the fathoms of herself; her lips and the way she carefully moved them, the warm color of her eyes that were hard to identify under a dim light, her body and the way she so carefully moved around him...all meant in a less derogatory way than he self described her, to make things clear.

Since he knew that if his cousin or mother heard him think or even slightly try to describe a woman like he did just now, regardless of her alliance or statutes, he would’ve been scolded, both his mothers and cousins comments so loudly heard in his head. “Ben, women are not objects, respect them.” Grateful he was for having such great women in his life, but he didn’t really like the life lessons that came from a wise princess turned General, or from an oddly wise and young Jedi. He—shit...his mother. Shit.

The ship hastily dropped out of the vacuum of hyperspace and landed outside the atmosphere of D’Qar; his mother’s choice planet to have her current resistance base and his intended, now regrettable choice of destination. Ben was lucky that whatever some first order doctor inserted him with muted his force abilities, because his presence would have instantly alerted his mother if the ships tag wouldn’t. She probably would have shot him out of space out of anger for his disobedience and recklessness.

Good thing she wasn’t seeing him coming.

Not at the instant anyway, because he did see her once he entered the planet, people gathered around the black ship when he landed, some prepared to attack whatever was going to emerge from within the mysterious ship, not at all expecting Ben Solo to actually be inside an enemy fighter. Not until they all caught sight of him, all of them staying quiet and looking back at his mother as she made her way to him, an angry expression painted on her face, one his father had warned him so much about.

The sight almost made him want to climb back inside the cockpit and fly away, but he didn’t, instead he let his boots touch the earth and let his feet meet his mother halfway, a loud lump swallowed down his throat at the silent but tension filled greeting.

He sighed, “mother—” a sharp sting that radiated on his face cut him off from saying more, feeling the impact of his mother's palm slapping his cheek made him freeze, his eyes meeting her own raging brown ones. Whoever had gathered dispersing at the sight of impact, not wanting to be in close proximity to their general fueled with such anger.

“I told you, Ben not to go, I told you and y/n….” her eyes finally took notice of the disappearance of her niece, her eyes softening and losing the anger that had lit within them and letting a curiosity seep in them. “Where is she?”

Ben blinked and let his eyes drop to the ground, swallowing thickly before he answered, “she—” again he cut himself off, only this time not because he had been slapped, but because a strange and familiar feeling impacted within him like a huge angered wave—his force abilities returning quicker than anticipated.

However, the feeling wasn’t missed by his mother either, it made them both grow quiet and turn their attention to the depths of the forest that surrounded them. His mother's warm brown eyes widening at the sight of someone she hadn’t seen in years, a man that neither of them thought they’d see.

“Luke.” She mumbled, her eyes like Ben’s, intently watching as Luke somehow walked out of the forest, an unreadable expression expressed on his face. His eyes falling on Ben’s before searching the now gathered and shocked crowd, a change in his demeanor once he didn’t spot what he was looking for.

Ben wanted to say something, question how he was here when no ships landed nearby, but his own surprise to see his uncle once Jedi Master here, left him quiet. Knowing why he suddenly appeared from thin air, without having to ask.

When Luke stood before Ben and his mother, Ben swallowed thickly, his eyes catching sight of Luke clenching his jaw and focusing his determined gaze on him. His words bringing a cold chill. “Where’s my daughter?”

——

(Poe p.o.v)

The sound of his saliva as it dragged down his throat was an audible sound in the quiet lift, the rough sound echoing in the white bright lit space. The sound making the tension elevate levels he never thought they could reach. It was an understatement to say he was calm, because even if his face expressed the emotion, in the inside, his mind, body was wrapped in a nerve-wracking mess. Snoke never failed to intimidate him and has for so long. And today after the discovery of….the Skywalker girl, he knew nothing good was coming out of this “briefing”. Nor about the news of letting Ben Solo go just to force her to stay.

He could sense that, he didn’t have to use the force to know that he was in for it. Maybe Snoke was going to make another mark on him like she had done. Only this was going to be on purpose and not by self defense, given she was also angry. But she had only done one thing, Snoke on the other hand, was capable of hitting with force lightning that hurt for weeks. He was never a huge fan, or a fan at all...But he took the pain, sometimes even for simple mistakes Rey would make. It’s better he suffers then her. Whatever the punishment was going to be, it was going to happen, he could see it plotting inside Snokes cold blue eyes as the lift door slid open. A certain chill he had felt her get as he had brought her up here a couple hours ago ran down his body too. Only he hid it better than she had.

“My faithful apprentice.” Snoke greeted with a feigned smile and a sneer heard in his voice, all giving away that he was anything but content. However Snoke was, Poe had to take a knee in front of Snokes throne and bow his head, just waiting for his next words. “She left quite a mark on you my apprentice.” Snoke continued with amusement, using the force to lift Poe’s face so his scar was visible by the white dim light on the ceiling and the red lights on the ground below his feet. A straight line formed on his lips. “How’s the wound?”

Poe slowly lifted his eyes and met Snokes blue ones, his chill never ending; “healing.” He simply answered.

Snoke sat in silence, propping his elbow on the metal arm rest, letting Poe’s chin drop and burning holes into his skull as Snoke glared at him. His words losing the amusement and returning with the sneer. “You doubted her.” He bluntly stated, “your mistake. I warned you never to doubt a Skywalker and yet you did, hard headed fool.”

Poe let’s his eyes drop to the ground at the sound of the insult, feeling anger build up inside him.

Snoke continued with his words more harsh now. “Just like I told you to KILL HER!” Snoke slammed his fist on the arm rest and forced Poe to look up at him, so he could feel the anger Snoke was feeling. “look at me boy! You FAILED!”

“She wasn’t—”

“Are you giving me excuses for your mistakes?” Snoke countered angrily, causing Poe to shake his head and just mouth a soft ‘no’, his gaze narrowing to show an anger he was trying to put up.

“But she’s here now.” Poe tried to excuse, “you said you needed her.”

Snoke leaned back and let Poe’s head drop once more, his anger sizzling down and his emotions returning to the nonchalant, cold ones he always carried. “Yes,” Snoke mused, “her bloodline is special to me, to the order and our plans. With her by my side with her great Skywalker name, dominance over the galaxy is guaranteed. I need her,” he pauses and thinks to himself, his elbow once again resting on the arm rest, letting Poe try and say his idea out-loud, to try and get on Snokes good graces again.

“We could kill her cousin, Ben solo, she’s attached to him. We kill him and she loses herself.”

Snoke hummed softly, but then his glare burned brighter, “but you let him go.” Snoke sighed, “regardless if you killed Ben Solo, she has her father.” Snoke paused for a moment before continuing, “but there is something.” Snokes frown slowly and creepily turned into a smirk at a sudden idea. “Her doubt. Did you not feel it? It was strong. Her hesitation? One step away from a yes at the offer I made. Just one last right move and we have her at my grasp.”

What was this? A game of chess? Poe knew better, and Snoke should know better, because didn’t he say never to doubt a Skywalker? He was doing that now—“not her,” Poe argued, “I felt her presence the moment her ship dropped out of hyperspace, she’s strong in the lightside, she’ll never fall willingly.”

Snoke cocked his to the side and chucked coldly, “and she surrendered willingly did she not? All because of the love she has for her cousin, she came here because of her dead brother.” Snoke stood up slowly, causing Poe to swallow thickly and look to the ground. Snokes next words, pulling Poe’s gaze instantly in disbelief, “you will make her join.”

Poe shook his head and stood up to his given height, his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How? She hates me.”

Snoke chuckled as he slowly made his way to Poe with a determined gaze and a dark motive. “You’ll play with her beloved feelings. You and you alone. You’ll make her fall madly in love to the point of her compliance to the order and the dark side, all because she’ll want to stay by your side. Damn fool will never see through our plan.”

Poe met his gaze with the same burning determination, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Because my dear apprentice,” Snoke grinned, “a Jedi’s weakness is their own emotions.”

.

.

.

.

A/N- for all those who read this chapter, I’ll let you know now that next chapter a special Jedi ghost will make an appearance! I won’t say if it’s in form of a flashback or it will appear for our dear Ben, but just know they will appear and have some significance with reader :) y’all when take a guess who it might be??

Tagged- @thescarletknight2014 , @softly-sad , @golden-guide , @abysshaven , @a-dorky-book-keeper , @kit-jpg​ , @mybarnesmyhero

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care , @commondazy​, @paintballkid711

[icequeenoriginal]

The Prince of Mean

Summary: Takes place right after Putting Others First, when Roman goes to his room with the knowledge of what he is

Warning: Roman angst, spoilers for new episode, no happy ending, ducking out. self-hatred, putting yourself down, bad choices, heartbroken, self-deprecating thoughts, crying (let me know if I need to add anything else)

Author’s Note: Omg, what an episode, this is definitely one of my favorite ones. We got so much info and this just proved to me more than Roman is definitely not okay. I probably won’t make a reaction post to episode but I putting a pause on everything to write this because I need to get it out of my brain. DM if you want to talk about the episode though

Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9o1QS-itsU If someone makes an AMV with this song and Roman, please send it to me

~

I'm so tired of pretending

Where's my happy ending?

Roman fell to his knees when he reached his room. His palms hitting the floor in a dramatic fashion that would have impressed himself if he wasn’t so upset. Everything, everything was so so wrong. Why couldn’t anyone else see that? He was right! He was the prince! The good guy! He had to be right! ...Right?

I followed all the rules

I drew inside the lines

I never asked for anything that wasn't mine

Roman forced himself and over to his desk. He looks at what littered it: Unfinished ideas, sketches, project ideas. All the hard work he did. Because he was good. He did everything he needed to do. He was a good boy. And yet...

I waited patiently for my time

But when it finally came

He called his name

What was Thomas thinking?! Letting Deceit, or Janus as he claimed, be at the table, and working with them! Virgil warned them against that! He is just trying to protect Thomas. This was clearly a bad idea. He didn’t even come up with it, so it must be. He is the one who comes up with good ideas. That’s who he is. That is his job.

And now I feel this overwhelming pain

I mean it's in my veins

I mean it's in my brain

Roman whipped his eyes as the tears began to form. It hurt, everything hurt. He just wanted to scream, curse, or fight. Thomas and Patton could spin it any way they could. He knew that look in their faces. They were definitely disappointed with him. Or many they did not want him there. It was both. He knew it. Then he let himself cry more. 

My thoughts are running in a circle like a toy train

I'm kinda like a perfect picture with a broken frame

I know exactly who to blame

This was all Janus’ fault. He called that snake out on what he was doing to him and the snake did what he always does. He twisted the situation so that it would look like he, Roman, was the true bad guy. He wasn’t going to fall for it. It was a classic trick all villains use to try and make the protagonist lose all his allies. But Thomas was smart enough to figure it out, sooner or later. Patton says he will always need Roman so he won’t push him to the side. ...Right?

I never thought of myself as mean

I always thought that I'd be the queen

And there's no in-between

Why was everyone glaring at him when he said it? He was just laughing, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before? But...they told him to stop during the first time with Virgil? He really can’t stop being mean, can’t he? He just a big fat meanie who will always be this way. He is just like his brother, isn’t he?

'Cause if I can't have that

Then I would be the leader of the dark

And the bad

Roman sat on his bed and just...thought to himself. He through all of his memories of how he is with everyone. The name-calling, the dismissals, his behavior. Wow, maybe he was the evil twin after all, and Janus was right. Wow. Everything is truly falling apart in front of him. Perfect.

Now there's a devil on my shoulder

Where the angels used to be

And he's calling me the king

There are four spots. That was how it always was. They were the core four. But now there were five? It doesn’t work, it’s uneven. Thomas’ living room isn’t big enough. They all have to squish together. Unless someone left. It made the most sense. Someone would have to go. 

Being nice was my pastime

But I've been hurt for the last time

And I won't ever let another person take advantage of me

Why could he never do anything? Why was he always in the wrong? He could never pick a side without everyone tell him that it was the wrong side. He switches, he has now tainted that side and made it wrong. He was just wrong. When everyone hated Janus, he was the only one to agree with him? He was the one who played into Janus’’ hand. And now hating Janus was wrong?! Maybe they are just looking for reasons to hate him.

The anger burns my skin, third-degree

Now my blood's boiling hotter than a fiery sea

There's nobody getting close to me

They're gonna bow to the Evil King

How would he be like as a dark side? Could he even do it? Working with his brother, wearing black? Not seeing his family again? No, he couldn’t do it.

Your nightmare's my dream

Just wait until they fall to my wicked schemes

Roman knew it was selfish, that him getting the boot from the light sides was not something he could deny. But he didn’t want that. He liked being a good guy. He liked all the fun things he got to do with Thomas and the others. He did not want to give it up. He wanted to do what Thomas needed but he didn’t want to lose what he had. Roman groans and leans back, laying on his bed. There was nothing he could do.

I never thought of myself as mean

I always thought that I'd be the queen

Wait a minute...

And there's no in-between

'Cause if I can't have that

There is something he can do.

Then I would be the leader of the dark

And the bad

Now there's a devil on my shoulder

Where the angels used to be

And he's calling me the prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

He just hopes Virgil doesn’t get mad at him for stealing his idea.

The prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

The prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

Roman sighed, he accepted his decision. And this time no one was going to influence his choice, much less change it.

Something's pulling me

It's so magnetic

My body is moving

Unsure where I'm headed

Roman looks up at the knock of the door. “Kiddo? Can we talk?” He put a pillow in his face to muffle his batted breath. 

All of my senses have left me defenseless

This darkness around me

Is promising vengeance

“Kiddo?” Patton asks again, shaking his doorknob. Thank Zeus he always makes sure it’s locked. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Patton’s voice sounded a bit desperate, maybe he knew what he was about to do. 

The price that I'm willing to pay is expensive

There's nothing to lose

When you're lonely and friendless

“I’m fine Padre” Roman replied, make sure his voice sounded as normal as he could, even holding his breath when he felt it about to break. When Patton tried to continue, Roman was quick enough to cut him off “I just don’t want to talk right now? I just need to be alone.”

So my only interest is showing this prince

That I am the queen

And my reign will be endless (endless)

Patton sighed from behind the door, he knew he wasn’t going to get through to Roman. He understands about needing space to process his emotions. “Okay kiddo, just call me when you are ready to talk”. 

I want what I deserve

I want to rule the world

Sit back and watch them learn

It's finally my turn

“Will do!” Roman shouted and waited for Patton’s footsteps to descend down the hallway. He had a lot of work to do and needed to so before he got too tired from all this crying he was doing. He first sent all the work on his desk to the Mind Palace. That was a place anyone can go to. If anyone cared enough to look for him, they have those ideas. It should be enough so no one will come looking for him. Not like they would anyway.

If they want a villain for a king

I'm gonna be one like they've never seen

I'll show them what it means

He summoned plenty of food, water, and movies to keep himself occupied so he would have no reason to leave his room. It was proud of his ability to do so with so many tears falling. He then ripped off his prince outfit, he didn’t deserve it. Like he didn’t deserve his famILY, or Thomas’ praise or anything. 

Now that I am that

I will be the ruler of the dark and the bad

'Cause the devil's on my shoulder

Where the angels used to be

Lastly, wished them all well. He summoned a flower and picked off a petal “To Patton, I won’t get in your way anymore.” Pluck “To Logan, you never have to deal with me again.” Pluck “To Virgil, I won’t annoy you again.” Pluck “To Remus, have fun being the main creativity” Pluck goes the last petal “To Janus, enjoy my spot”

And he's calling me the prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

The prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

Roman climbed under his blanket with a broke smile on his face. This was it. They didn’t want him so he didn’t need them. He could sleep for a very, very long time. He hadn’t done that in a while and boy did he need it. He didn’t have to worry anyone kissing him awake. 

He knew this was the right choice. Now the stupid, egotistical, annoying baby was gone. He finally killed what was making Thomas’ life difficult.

I want what I deserve

[akumageist]

I would die for Hitori Uzune. RIP to Kazuaki, but I’m different.

The Hatoful fandom consists of 13 people and a paperclip. It always has. Unfortunately, it probably always will. Where this is cause for some perks, it’s also some of its faults. In example, it’s still an anime game, made by a Japanese woman, and attracts weebs. Weebs tend to like to think of characters 2-Dimensionally, breaking the character down to what they think is their core personality traits. Hitori is no stranger to this, and is beaten down into this heartless, manipulative, selfish bastard. But I believe Moa is saying “anyone, even the best of us, is capable of becoming a monster if driven to it.” Let’s roll.

2162. Hitori was born into a world of war and hate, plopped into an orphanage at just 2 years old. This can be found in Moa’s canon spin-off manga, where Hitori at about ten years old is caring for the other war orphans along with the other older birds. Luckily for him, he was a genius. He was able to go out and get jobs tutoring birds and support his rag-tag family at his young age.

With that, we know Hitori was not originally cold and heartless, despite how the world may have birthed him. Especially when Nageki arrived frail and sickly. Hitori and the other birds were happy to put in overtime in an attempt to pay for the poor dove’s medications, even in his protest.

Then, 2180 happened. Imagine what sort of toll that would take on Hitori. he was absent. He was at work, unaware of the jeopardy that befell his family. What kind of horrible, mind-rattling survivors guilt must rack this bird’s brain, knowing he wasn’t there as his family was massacred one by one?

“What did we do? We had nothing. Our parents and homes had already been stolen by the humans. All we had left were each other.”

We can gather from this same scene Hitori blames himself for not being there. For not being able to protect his family, or even Nageki. Even though had he been there, he would have died alongside everybirdie else, and left Nageki to succumb to his illness alone. Something of this magnitude would create anxieties and trauma unfathomable to those who did not deal with it.

In Hitori, this manifested as full-blown helicopter mom. He can’t help but think of every little nit-pick detail over Nageki, terrified one feather out of place will kill him. The fandom is good about this side of his character! And of course, so is Moa. This may be the Summer Vacation Drama CD: Hitori The Worrywart (which takes place in MIRROR AU), but I love it’s portrayal of the anxious quail.

Hitori continued to care and ache over Nageki’s declining health. He was desperate. Begging doctors, even though deep in his little quail brain he knew Nageki was a lost cause, and that he was dying. But he couldn’t think of a life without Nageki, and did all in his power to try and keep the bird as well as he could. We can see a great example of this love in words you might not think of.

“How about this? From now on, ‘I’m fine’ is not allowed.”

I’ve always imagined Hitori getting mildly heated at Nageki in this conversation.The quail is on his last strands of stability, and the dove he cares endlessly for is trying to hide the very thing he ails himself over. The genuinity in his words shines through- telling Nageki he’d rather hear he’s bad and hurting.

So, in this desperation, Hitori carted Nageki off to some strange doctor in some strange prestigious school. And how couldn’t he? A doctor who claimed to know of the virus eating away at Nageki’s life, and how to cure it. Hitori’s beacon of hope in a sea of darkness. The only bird in the entire universe he had left to love, the one he had arguably always favored and adored, was dying. He would do anything in his power to keep the one thing he loved alive, no matter the irrationality or cost. No matter the very dying bird’s own lips saying “I… don’t want to go.”

Whether or not you ship these birds, I firmly believe Hitori is in love with Nageki in a romantic sense.

“I can no longer love another creature // I think we meant more to each other than anybirdie else in the world... // The love I felt soured into resentment // I should remember the beautiful face I knew, not… a photo covered in scribbles”

Not to mention admitting he can’t bear to live without the dove in BBL. And, in his route, Hiyoko goes as far as to refer to this bird as a female, which means he’s speaking so fondly she’s assuming it was a lover, and therefore a woman. Hitori’s stopped any sort of love at the idea he can only love Nageki post-mortem. That is canon. And well… that’s not very brotherly, no matter how good of a relationship you may have with your sibling (I speak from experience).

Okay, okay, this persuasive essay is NOT for convincing you of this ship, that is another essay for another time. I’ve only mentioned this opinion because I need you to understand his irrationality for the one thing he has left, and the fragility of it. And why it might drive anybirdie to… Hitori-level madness. Moving on.

2183. A mere 3 years after Hitori had lost the majority of his family to human terrorists. Nageki sends a coded letter, and… we can see Hitori’s anxieties outright.

“It’s happening again. Nageki needs me, and I’m not there.”

This is… a very powerful line in the game. We’re seeing just how vulnerable Hitori truly is. This is a traumatized individual in a panic attack- realizing the love of his goddamn life is once again faced with something horrible, and Hitori is once again absent from the scene.

And just like that, he’s gone.

The only thing. The only one Hitori had left in life to love. To live for. Taken from him without so much as a second chance. This is painful to write. This part of Hatoful is, without a doubt, the most agonizing. I know how it is to lose something so dear and feel as though maybe it’s not worth going on without them.

This is the peak of Moa’s tragedy writing ability (and yes, I’m including Holiday Star). But this is my point, is it not? Though his kanji may be “sun bird”, the actual word for his name “Hitori” quite literally means one, alone, solitary. He is now all alone in the universe, no family left. How can anybirdie even remotely remain in charge of their faculties (as Sakuya would put it) by now? You wouldn’t.

Hitori is now a husk of his former self. Anything he’s ever cared for is gone, he has nothing left to live for. He goes- my favorite coined term for him- absolutely batshit. He gets what we call “trauma-induced psychosis”, and begins to hallucinate very vividly, a form that he refers to as “Nageki”. We all know him of course, as Shadow. Shadow, from the little information we’re able to gather from BBL, is tormenting Hitori ruthlessly.

Shadow is easily misunderstood, because Moa made him fathomable, so the reader was able to understand exactly what was happening. What had become of Hitori Uzune. Shadow in all his simplicity- is Hitori. It is an introjection of Nageki, manifested to validate Hitori in his self-hatred. Don’t you get it? He hates himself just as much as you hate him!

Anything Hitori thinks of himself, Shadow is there to back up. He’s taunting him day in and day out, reminding him that he killed Nageki, and every ounce of Nageki’s suffering life was the fruit of Hitori’s inability to protect him. But again, it’s his own brain, telling him exactly what he wants to hear. What he truly believes. Telling himself what he’s done, and how he deserves this. ...And to seek revenge.

Hitori lost his mind. He had nothing else to lose, after all. He became obsessed with Nageki even moreso than he was in life, because there was no level-headed dove to calm him and tell him to stop worrying so much, or keep him at least reasonably held together by simply being there.

He listened to his psychosis, and when he made a friend (Moa gives evidence Hitori and Kazuaki were friends prior to Hitori’s ill-intentions), his psychosis got in the way of that, too. As he travelled down this relationship (which Moa herself says is pretty much romantic), we can assume he realized just how unable to love he was. He had Kazuaki around because, let’s face it. He wanted someone like Nageki who was incompetent so he could nurture and care for them. And for a while, it worked. But it didn’t. Hitori didn’t love Kazuaki. He couldn’t. He was too busy looking for Nageki.

So, you’re reading this in english. You speak english. At least a little, right? So maybe you played the english (and localized) version of the game. Well then you may not know the following. Please pay attention! This gets a bit rocky, and a bit more “Hitori...!”.

In the English version, Hitori disguised as Kazuaki is “tired”. In the Japanese version, he’s “sleepy” or “dreamy”. I’d describe him as ditsy, for sure. He kind of acts like an airhead who knows absolutely nothing, and his students don’t take him seriously. In the Hatomame Sweet Blend Drama CD, there is a track that follows Kazuaki on a little adventure of his narcolepsy, and going to Shuu for help.

In and out of comatose, Hitori, as himself, is there in his dreams as a separate bird.

“This bird with a face I had never seen spoke to me in a voice I had never heard, and this is what he said.”

“Nanaki-sensei” is clearly denying his own identity.

“I’ll sleep, just a little, and then leave… good… night…”

“But sleeping is my job… You still have a little longer. Tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…”

This is dream Hitori telling himself that he has to continue his alias until his revenge is fulfilled. The quail that was once Hitori must remain dormant until he is reunited with Nageki again, and can be happy again. As a metaphor for depression… don’t you feel like you’re a shell of your former self?

So, going off this information… I believe Hitori has repressed himself. This is due to my own knowledge on psychology but-- Hitori doesn’t want to be Hitori anymore. It’s too hard. Hitori the war orphan. Hitori the lone survivor. Hitori the murderer and identity thief. It’s him not wanting to deal with his trauma in a healthy way, and instead locking it up and becoming somebirdie new and undamaged.

He killed Hitori.

This falls into the other delusion- that Nageki is somehow not completely dead and gone and ash- but still trapped, somehow, somewhere, and Hitori needs to find and get him. To kill Isa and the researchers who “killed” Nageki, and bring “Nageki” home. Whatever he believes Nageki is. In BBL, we see this quite literally varies! He tried to cut Ryouta open and steal his liver!

“Sir, Nageki would have never wanted this…!”

There is no difference between a serial killer and someone in a court room screaming for the serial killer to be murdered in turn. That mourning mother is then one in the same with that killer, is she not? She sees him, and wants him to die. She wants him to die and suffer. She believes that will bring her a sense of justice. Even though she knows it will not return her son to her. Hitori, is that mourning mother. He sees Isa, and all he can see is the man who murdered his dove.

I know the biggest aspect as to why the fandom hates Hitori is the sole factor that Kazuaki is #relatable. He’s a depressed college student who thinks he’s better off dead. Then, Hitori tricks him. But you’re not reading Kazuaki right. It’s okay, he’s easy to misread from Holiday Star’s plotline. 

Holiday Star was written with Kazuaki as the villain, do you forget? A grey villain as well, but a villain nonetheless. He told his tragic sob story death in such a way, you can’t help but to cry. He’s the victim! I’m not saying he’s not. But he was written specifically to be pitied in Holiday Star, and as you continue on, you begin to see he’s actually just anti-self help. He doesn’t want to face his fears. He doesn’t want to leave his safe egg and take the risk he should have.

Kazuaki is meant to be pitied, yes,  but just on the brink of annoying with his helplessness and self-deprecation. He’s, forgive me, a “sad sack of shit” who does nothing to help himself. Don’t come after me for being “ableist” or whatever- Moa literally wrote him this way.

This is also depicted in “Kazuaki-kun’s Book”. Now, this book takes place in the MIRROR AU, but it tells of how Kazuaki met Hitori. Moa starts the manga off by explaining Kazuaki had a great chickhood, a healthy life, and an easy, happy time. But then, he flunked his college exams and didn’t even get into his safety school. He lazed around, grew depressed, and let his apartment rot. He played video games until his online friends got jobs, and wasted any money he had on them as well. The only thing that scared him out of it is when his next door neighbor was found dead, having rotted into his own futon.

So imagine Hitori, who has worked so hard and lost everything he had done so for. Tirelessly, through his horrible, fucked up existence. Nageki, who had his short and miserable life robbed from him, had to die. Had to kill himself. And this random quail has the audacity to bitch and moan, thinking he’s got it bad? He’s a waste of space that could have been filled with Nageki. This is what Hitori’s brain is thinking. Hitori’s only ~20 years old when Nageki dies, after all.

I’m not saying this is cause for murder and identity theft. Don’t you dare misread me on this. But as I’ve stated prior- Hitori’s completely lost it.  But you ship him with the chukar that literally ruined his life. Hitori’s a grey villain but holy fuck why would you want him to fuck the partridge that tortured and drove his only loved one to suicide?

It was wrong to trick Kazuaki. It was wrong to insult him as he died. It was wrong to steal his identity. That’s obvious and a given. But you all seem to look at that factoid alone, chalking it up to ‘preying on a poor mentally ill man” but not taking into consideration Hitori is mentally ill himself. ...Just not #relatable enough for you.

Hitori is suicidal as well. He’s been suicidal presumably since Nageki died. Don’t you dare say Hitori isn’t at least a little in the same boat. I don’t care if he’s not as soft and uwu and cuddly as Kazuaki. Mental illness is not rainbows and butterflies and emo hair (though Kazuaki is not portrayed this way).

Holiday star bears all the answers. I raise you important points, so pay close attention. The first key component is Hitori, found upside down in the pudding. He’s crying. Why is he crying? Because he’s lost his name? Oh, but think deeper.

“I’m Nemo”.

“Nemo” is latin for nothing, and his name translates to “nothing” in every language of HoliStar. The King has vomited him up in his kingdom, and robbed him back of what he stole from him. His identity.

But it goes even deeper than that.

“I’ve lost something, and so, I think I might cry.”

From this phrase alone, it’s painful to play this game. Nageki is right in front of his beak. But what did he do? He ate his own eyes. Hitori, in his refusal to identify with himself, has robbed himself of quite literally seeing the very bird he adores and sought after. Then, he is renamed his own identity by that bird (the only identity he accepts). How surreally real.

The second key component is when everybirdie is being rescued, but Leone warns Yuuya the quail is clearly falling more rapidly into a coma, and may not be able to awake. Why is this? Because Hitori wants to die. He’s fine with it, and Kazuaki is more than happy to keep him. When Yuuya finds him, Hitori is not at all alarmed as he should be. He seems passive, and simply wants to fall back to sleep. He’s to the point of trying to strangle Yuuya in attempt to let himself fall into eternal slumber (even if he thinks Yuuya is… Kazuaki..?).

Heed these next words carefully. When Yuuya asks if The King did something to him, Hitori replies-

“...No, all The King did was close the door.”

I am a firm believer this is Hitori indirectly saying “Kazuaki did nothing wrong, and I do not resent him for hating me.” Especially since Hitori shows signs of knowing it’s Kazuaki, and repenting.

“He said I need to be punished. Apparently I did something bad… and I think I know what it was.”

This is confirmed in my next point, so bear with me.

Hitori, in this same conversation, is admitting he wants to die. The only thing that stops him- as morbid as it may be, is remembering this takes place before the events of BBL. He hasn’t fulfilled what he believes is his “something I need to do”. Which is seek revenge, and bring Nageki home, as per Shadow’s orders.

Lastly, at the bitter end of Holiday Star when everybirdie is plummeting through the air from the false star, Hitori is still blind and confused. Suddenly, The King erupts from behind Hitori, and appears to be talking to him.

--

“Oh, is that right?”

--

“...I know, I know. ...but it’s still too soon. That’s right, I’ll be along soon. I’ll catch up with you. Someday…”

This is arguably my most prominent point in the entire essay. This is Hitori, admitting not only does he still plan to kill himself, but that he intends to keep his promise and reunite with Kazuaki in the afterlife. These are not the words of a heartless quail. These are the words of somebirdie who knows they’ve taken advantage of a friend, but is continuing to do their best to keep their promises and make amends. This is Hitori telling Kazuaki he still cares for him.

Hitori is the result of trauma and hardship beyond compare, and his inability to cope. He is not meant to be hated. He is meant to have shock value, yes. What he has done his disgusting, but you want to love him. Because he raised the sweetest bird in the entire game who would rather kill himself than hurt others.

Grey-villains are difficult, and because you can’t love them for being purely evil, you end up hating them for being a good person who’s done bad things. Hitori is a cracked window. Not quite shattered, but no longer whole, with a faulty image. Hitori is not just some heartless, manipulative, selfish bastard. He’s quite literally a bird with a broken wing (or entire ribcage more like), trying to… well, Live, and be happy.

[paellaplease]

Firebird | Chap.7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

I’m back!

Chapter 7: Of Monsters and Metals Part 2.

...but by the restless heart that refuses to falter.

*

   Contrary to popular belief, whilst she was well accustomed to it, years of sweaty work hadn’t endeared her to the less glamorous aspects of working in a forge. It was hot, and oftentimes stuffy, making water breaks important as the hours passed on and her arms began to tire. Working through the summer was unbearable, with no amount of mountain air able to cool the uncomfortable redness on her face and arms.

Whilst Teacher could walk around the forge like it was her second home, it took months of discipline for Maiya to tolerate the place. How ironic that it seemed to follow her everywhere like a rope tightly wrapped around her wrist.

Shifting in her seat, she was thankful that the constant exchange of air above Jackdaws had rid the forge of the usual sulfurous stench of burning coal. This quiet, unassuming workshop kept close between Wayra’s rock and stone, like a beating heart beneath living flesh.

....But of course it would take a miracle to completely filter out the unmistakable burning smell of hot steel and the lingering taste of metal on her tongue.

A small drop of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. If I close my eyes, she mused, it would be like I never left home. Her head lolled forward, the previous hour’s excitement catching up to her. It wasn’t everyday a Rito takes you flying.

She was sinking in her seat, a single voice one of the only things standing in the way between her and an impromptu nap.

“…almost impenetrable rock like bodies completely covered in ice! I have heard with enough prolonged contact they could also freeze exposed flesh in seconds. It’s incredible...”

Oh. Right.

It took all her might to peel her eyelids back open. Of all the challenges she was bracing herself to encounter from Rito Village, she didn’t expect ‘being lectured again in another forge’ to be one of them.

Yep, definitely just like home.

In the reddish glow of the forge, Uleh gesticulated with a graceful turn of a poised hand. The Zora appeared fresher than a daisy, a completed sword blade resting on the anvil next to them, gleaming almost as bright as their teeth. Where they got all their energy from after what would have been hours of gruelling work was one of the many greater mysteries of Hyrule.

They spoke words that, whilst probably important, unfortunately fell on deaf ears as the Enchanter dozed off. The heaviness of her eyes continued to fight her as they settled on a rough sketch of the monster. Drawn in haste, it appeared to be one big blob with two smaller blobs attached at its sides to act like its appendages. It was a literal rock. A giant, dangerous rock. Larger than a house, the Zora had said. She briefly wondered if Uleh was having her on.

Guess so long as we don’t get within arms reach it should be fine.

“I suppose we’re not befriending the Talus and escorting it back home?” An exasperated voice called from a corner of the room. Maiya leaned her head back, her brain supplying an upside-down image of Revali testing the balance of a Falchion on one of his wings.

“Unfortunately not, but how uncharacteristically nice of you, Master Revali." The Zora replied, evidently unbothered by the archer’s sarcasm. Propping their head up with a hand, their smile was natural. Easy. "Making friends with monsters? We should table it for a later venture.”

The blue Rito opened his beak to protest, but was cut-off again by the Zora’s ringing laugh. “Ahah, you may be onto something though. Managing to form a positive connection would make your jobs easier. I mean, since you’re getting up close and personal anyway.”

“Hmmm...yeah.” Maiya sat up and stretched.

A beat passed as her brain finally decided to process the last sentence. “Wait.”

“Not to worry. It shouldn’t be too difficult.” Uleh said, totally misreading her panic. They tapped the side of their skull for emphasis. “The ingredient should be in the ore poking out of its crown. You can’t miss it. It’s usually right at the top of its head.”

Years of accumulated dust motes floated into the air as the Hylian slammed both her hands onto the aged writing desk. She gripped the edges in shock, the hardwood creaking. “Sorry.” A breath. “Can you run that by me again? Starting at the part where you said this wouldn’t be difficult.”

Uleh caught the tipping candle-holder before it fell, saving their map from going up in flames. They tilted their head down to look at her, wide-eyed confusion making her feel a little guilty. “Forgive me Miss Enchanter, had I said something wrong?”

“No.” She huffed, refusing the need to anxiety-pace around the room. “I mean yes. It’s just...” It was ridiculous. This is crazy. “You’re saying that the ingredient is found on a sentient boulder that wants to kill me.”

Adopting the countenance of a wise sage imparting worldly knowledge onto their pupil, the Zora clasped their hands and set them gently on the shaking table. "Not quite a boulder. Picture it more as a hulking, moving, ah... mini mountain. Encased in ice.”

"And it wants to kill me."

"And it wants to kill you, yes.”

This was bad. She should say something. She could feel Revali’s eyes piercing into her back. Goddesses, Maiya. Get a grip!

Was talking to the Blacksmith really worth the risk of getting hurt? Forging swords, setting traps, and being semi-decent with her throwing knives for self-defence were nowhere near enough to qualify her as a monster-hunter. A rabbit, fine. But a rock monster more than quadruple her size? I must be delusional.

She scrubbed her face wearily. “What makes you think this is a good idea?”

“Well, I’m speaking to one of the last known Enchanters of Hyrule and the Pride of the Rito. Why, it should be a doddle with two living legends on the case.”

The two responses from said Enchanter and Rito came at the same time:

“I’m not a legend.”

“Pah, naturally.”

Maiya inhaled deeply. “Why don’t you help us fight it, then? Three against one would mean surefire success.”

The furnace behind them crackled, sending sparks into the air. It illuminated the iridescent shine of the zora’s scales, their many jewels glinting in the gloomy atmosphere of the forge. It was a little funny. In contrast to their surroundings, they looked like an angel who had wandered into the wrong afterlife.

Uleh mulled over her question, idly spinning the charcoal in their hand. Whilst their smile remained, there was a tenseness that wasn't present before. After a minute, they finally regarded her, golden eyes far away as they cleared their throat to reply. “It’s because—

A disgruntled sigh interrupted them. “Honestly, enchanter. Must I throw the rulebook at you? It’s rather shameless really, asking the other party to help fulfill your part of the agreement.”

Maiya whipped her head around, leaning back so fast her chair nearly tipped over. “Lecturing me on manners now? That’s rich coming from you, Rito.”

“Why, I don’t understand your meaning. I’ve been nothing but a gentleman this entire time.”

Running a hand through her unruly hair, she would have marched directly up to him to give him a piece of her mind if it wasn’t for Uleh holding her back. She whipped around to look at them, realizing she’d forgot to drop her glare when they nervously coughed and released their hold on her shoulder.

“Ah, um.” They idly ran a claw down the silver chain decorating the two flat fins that hung on the sides of their head like hair. “I’m sorry for interrupting whatever’s going on here. You’re both right, in a way. It’s logical that the chances of success would increase with extra hands. In fact, if I could lend you my aid I would, but…”

Shrinking back, they went quiet again, words bashful and barely audible. “I’m no good in a fight.”

Maiya stared at them quizzically. Growing up with Teacher had its many challenges. For one, the Sheikah could read most people with ease, be it a guilty child who had just scribbled on a newly painted white wall or even a fully grown, extremely stoic adult trying to cheat her out of what should be reasonably priced eggs. For a young Maiya, it made stretching the truth risky, and lying to her mentor out of the question.

Whilst she was no expert in body-language, spending most of her teenage years under her mentor’s watchful eye had taught her a few things about common tells. Maybe it was in the way the Zora’s golden eyes lost their gleam? Or in their sudden shyness. Either way, whilst they may have been sincere for most of the conversation previously, Uleh in that moment wasn’t telling the full truth.

She pressed the bottom of her palm to the aching spot above her brow. This was getting too complicated. Her chest ached from the stress. She winced when the rune bit at her skin. The pulse at her wrist felt strong under her fingers, beating out a warning call.

We’re wasting time. So what if they’re lying? Anything for Enchanting, right? Wasn't that the goal? To further or find what was lost whatever the price?

There was no point in turning back now. Pressing the issue wouldn’t change the fact that it would just be her, Revali, and this Talus tomorrow. If she wanted to meet the Blacksmith and actually have him listen to her demands, then this seems like the most direct option available. Beggars can’t be choosers, she already failed in uniting the Enchanted dagger with an owner. Teacher would never forgive her for letting go of a lead like this.

“Alright. Deal still stands.” She decided.

Standing up, Uleh raised their hands to the ceiling to stretch, the relaxed grin they had before returning to their face in full force. They leaned over the table, annotating a place in the map marking ‘West Rospro Pass’ before rolling it up and sealing it with a clip. “Well then, time and tide wait for no one.”

Maiya reached her hand out, jumping when a blue wing beat her to it, swiftly taking the map from the Zora’s hands.

Beside her, Revali rolled his shoulders. Seeing her annoyed expression, he lightly tapped the map on the top of her head, his feathers puffing up at his excitement to leave this hellish hot-box. “Careful, Hylian. Your face will get stuck if you keep frowning like that forever.” He said, poking her cheek with a pointed feather.

She couldn’t help the surprised squeak that escaped her mouth, Revali’s smirk growing even wider.

The fact that the feather pressed to her face was unbelievably soft pissed her off even moreso. She quickly swatted him away, face warming. “Buzz off,” she groused.

The Rito chuckled, but complied, withdrawing his wing to haughtily cross it with the other against his chest. “Tomorrow you’ll have front row seats to watch a true Master at work.”

The silence that followed made him sigh. He looked at her pointedly. “Would it kill you to be a bit more lively?”

“Yipee...”

“Amazing. Your sincere exuberance is truly heart-warming.”

She rolled her brown eyes as Uleh gave them both a thumbs up. The Zora's laughter, like chiming bells, filling the dark forge. It was infectious, and she couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile in return.

Perhaps tomorrow wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

   Birdsong greeted Maiya as the night sky slowly brightened into a lavender hue, the first signs of dawn peaking over the horizon. She tiptoed down the outer staircase of Swallow’s Roost, careful not to wake the travellers who rested peacefully on the other side of the wall.

She rubbed her eyes, fighting back a yawn. Wisps of smoke left the tops of chimneys, chefs and bakers preparing their iron cook pots for another working day of feeding an entire village and more. A gust of wind brought the scent of charcoal and firewood, acidic and earthy...

— Fire. Burning. Melting feathers and flesh. An arrow piercing skin and muscle—

The Enchanter pressed her knuckles into her temples, attempting to relieve the pressure forcing her head to burst. Another night, another terrible sleep in Tabantha. She knew this wasn’t normal; these night terrors. Her bones ached from hours of tossing and turning, waking up in a cold sweat and forcing herself to relax, only to be met with the same dream once again. Perhaps when all of this was over, a visit to the village healer would be a good idea.

However, against her better judgement, there was something invigorating about the new day. This was crazy; mad! Teacher would never have allowed it had she been in the same room when the decision was made. And perhaps that was exactly why her stomach felt like it was doing dumb, excited flips, her mouth turning up at the edges.

This was her chance to prove herself, show her mentor how dedicated she was to the cause and her studies. It was a little unorthodox, but she was sure Teacher would understand once she comes home with new information. In fact, she could omit most of the details from the letter anyway and leave in the non-life threatening bits that won’t cause any alarm.

She nodded to herself, hands tightening around a relatively empty backpack. She patted down her front and sides to check that she had what she needed. Throwing knives, waterskin, materials for basic first-aid, and a hammer and chisel from Uleh to help her collect the ore pieces later.

“That’s everything, I think. As well as…”

Her fingers froze as they brushed the raised embellishments on the enchanted dagger’s hilt, reality running up to slap her in the face. Hands curling around it, she felt a torrent of shame wash over her. What was she doing? This wasn’t the time to act like an overexcited child. This was serious, so much was riding on her getting this right. And her mentor wouldn’t be happy if she were to fail. Wait. Her stomach dropped. What if I do fail?

What then? She wondered. Would she even be alive to report the bad news?

Sighing, she forced her hand away from the dagger, turning to look beyond the railing and into the world beyond. If anything, at least it was a beautiful morning.

A voice appeared to her right. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Hylia’s left tit— ! Cheska!” She all but screamed, grabbing the railing in a death grip.

The innkeeper tipped her head inquisitively when a brief spark of blue flashed in her eyes.

“Uh!! Hello!” Maiya floundered. She hid her hand behind her back, feeling sweat build on her brow when Cheska’s eyes followed the action. “G-good morning. If this is about the late dinner you brought up last night, thank you so much! It was really, really good.”

She swallowed her spit, her nervousness still bubbling. “Not to say that your food isn’t always good. It’s just that I rarely eat fish. Not to say fish isn’t delicious. It’s just that where I live in Akkala we’re not really close to the sea so— ”

“Hylianlla! Slow-down.” The Rito laughed. “Jeez you are jumpy today. Take a deep breath. That’s it. In and out. Before the wind snatches it away— ah, I sound like my mother."

Cheska smiled warmly. Her rounded golden earrings reminded Maiya of two small suns, catching the light as she idly transferred the small paper package she held from one wing to another. “No worries, silly chickie. I’m always happy to feed a hungry traveller.”

The Hylian nodded, taking this as a sign that the conversation was over. She stepped to the side, moving to shuffle around the innkeeper, only for the Rito to block her path once again.

“However!” Her eyes sparkled. Maiya had a bad feeling about this. “What have you been up to yesterday that led to being dropped off by a mysterious and handsome blue-feathered stranger with the famous Great Eagle Bow?”

The Enchanter made a face. She was not mentally prepared to be having this conversation. “I can confirm that it’s not whatever you’re cooking up in that head of yours— and please stop wiggling your eyebrows!”

In an effort to distract herself from the blush that was snaking up her neck, her eyes strayed to the pink and orange sunrise above them, the clouds moving across the sky like white rolling waves. “As to what I’ve been doing. Well...not much really. Read a few books at the Archive. Got a tour of the village. Had a fight with the local blacksmith that led to striking a deal with the Zora that lives in the depths of the ancient rock supporting all of us right now.” She cringed at how crazy it sounded. “Did you know that by the way?"

“Uleh? Duh, they pass by from time to time.” She idly brushed a wing down one of her earrings. “We have the best chats. But tell me more about this tour!”

Despite the stress weighing on her mind, the Enchanter laughed, digging her hands in her pockets. “Of all the things...judging from your description I think you already know who this mysterious stranger is. Wouldn’t recommend it, but he’s all yours.”

“He’s all…” Cheska paused, voice breaking. She stood still, expression rapidly switching from confusion, realisation, to deep and feather-raising mortification.

Tilting forward, she began to giggle. Maiya stepped back in surprise, watching it transition into full blown laughter. “Uh, Cheska?”

The Rito doubled over and slapped a wing over her beak. “Revali?! Ha HA! Qoyllur-cha?” She sucked in a shaky breath, before dissolving into peals of incredulous laughter once again. “Heck no, amiha. I’m sure Mr. Grumpy is well and truly enamored with himself anyway.” The innkeeper wiped a tear from her eye. “Ah, Blessed Nayru. You’re a hoot!”

“Right,” Maiya said slowly, cheeks reddening at her social blunder. “Are you finished yet?”

“Yes,” the Rito snorted. “Okay I’m done. For real. I’m sorry!”

Forcing herself to keep a straight-face, Cheska shook her head, composing herself. “Goddesses. You just caught me by surprise is all. I’m recovering after an old friend showed up to the village yesterday. Big fiesta, great fun even though I couldn’t stay too long.

Jini brought out the good pisco this time.”

She smiled at Maiya’s blank expression, unperturbed by the lack of an equally excited response. Stepping back, she offered the Hylian the package she’d been holding on to. “Anyway, on a completely unrelated note, that mysterious blue Rito stopped by to leave this for you before dawn this morning.”

The Enchanter looked at the brown-paper package. She wondered if it was a good time to open it, but could feel Cheska’s poorly hidden curiosity bearing down on her. Might as well. Without much hesitation, she pulled on the thin rope holding it together.

A piece of cloth fell into her waiting hand.

It was a bandana. Dyed an azure blue, it reminded her of clear summer skies and the blue nightshades that glowed in her mentor’s study. Running her thumb over the soft fabric, she found that whilst it was simple and unpatterned, it was soft and very well-made. Unfolding it, a delicate piece of paper fell out, fluttering to the floor before she caught it.

She smiled, wondering if this was the prideful Rito’s version of an apology. Unbeknownst to her, her heart warmed at the thought.

Maiya quickly read the note:

So your haphazard hair doesn’t endanger us today - Revali.

The Hylian scowled, crumpling the message and stuffing it in her pocket. “Why am I so surprised?” She muttered. Despite her ire, she delicately smoothed out the blue bandana in her hand, pulling it around her hair and knotting it with irate conviction.

Saying a quick “Thank you and Good Morning” to the innkeeper, she began to angrily brisk walk up the village stairs.

Cheska waved her goodbye. “And where are you off to now, hylianlla?”

“I’m going to fight a Frost Talus.” She called over her shoulder casually.

“You’re what?!”

“Bye, Cheska!”

Revali was already waiting for her at the top of the stairs. He tapped his talons on the ground, leaning impatiently against the archway. The armour he had on the day they first met was fitted securely around his form, slightly hidden away by a flowing white scarf wrapped snug around his neck.

His back was to the sun, making it necessary for her to shield her eyes as she approached. Whilst there was no royalty amongst the Rito, he looked every bit like an irritable prince as light streamed from the heavens behind him.

His honeyed, infuriating voice called out to her as soon as he saw her hand leave the banister.

“You’re late.”

Maiya wordlessly tossed an object at him, the Rito Warrior snatching it from the air with ease. He looked down at the warm pastry that nearly hit him in the face, its icing topping and cinnamon scent unmistakeable. “A sweetroll?”

“Breakfast.” The Enchanter said, falling into step beside him as they walked down the ramp and onto the expansive launch point. The breeze was strong from this open landing, the battered wind markers around them whipping chaotically in the open air. These were the kind of conditions favourable to sailors, carrying amazing wooden creations to places unknown.

And I guess Rito as well, she thought, narrowly avoiding a tall, orange-feathered figure that landed a few feet away. Maiya righted herself, nearly stumbling backwards in surprise.

"Sorry, chika!" They called out, stepping around her quickly and making a beeline for the stairs.

The Hylian looked on in bewilderment, tugging a little self-consciously on her bandana as she turned back to face the archer. “What the...ah, anyway. I was on my way here when I realised I hadn’t eaten yet. Decided to stop by the bakery.”

Revali took a bite from the roll, making a small hum in approval before reaching into the utility pouch attached to his belt. Pulling out a glass vial, he passed it to the Enchanter. “My thanks then, as well as your payment.”

“What’s this?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at the vermillion liquid within. She uncorked the stopper and took a whiff of the unknown substance. It was pungent and sharp, making her pull away.

“Spicy Elixir. So you, pardon my bluntness, avoid freezing your pointed ears off whilst we’re traversing through the mountains.”

Maiya smelled it again, wrinkling her nose.

Revali tut-tted, though his eyes gleamed with barely hidden amusement. That bastard. “I don’t want to hear any complaints. The arctic chill is merciless. You need to drink it if you plan to keep all your limbs intact.”

She looked at the Spicy Elixir again, watching the dubious liquid slosh to the side—Oh Hylia, is that a butterfly wing?— before throwing it back as one would a shot. The warmth that came was instantaneous, as if an invisible force had suddenly encased her. It wrapped around her in the same way a blanket that had been left to heat close to the fireplace would. She was filled with a renewed sense of energy and realised then how cold her joints really were even in her heaviest of clothes.

Revali chuckled.

She opened her eyes, the curve of her mouth falling into a frown. “Care to share?”

“Not that I was speaking any falsehoods regarding the warming effects of the elixir but,” he smiled crookedly, shaking his head. “You trust too easily, Hylian.” Securing his bow to his front, he faced north and crouched.

Her brow twitched. “Me? Trust you?” Maiya shot back defensively as she hoisted herself up, minding this time not to grab on too tightly onto any feathers. “When Death Mountain freezes over.”

   Deep breaths and reign in the attitude was what she told herself as they left the landing. The drop still terrified her, her chest sinking to her knees everytime Revali so much as bobbed with the wind. She was thankful at least that the weather was favourable enough that he chose to forego the dive. Instead, he caught the gale with his outstretched wings, flapping and gaining height as they progressed forward.

Some adventurers on horseback looked up as they passed, many of them gaping in awe at the blue feathered warrior who sailed above them. Revali made no comment, head facing forward and beak an impassive line. Though the subtle fluff to his feathers gave him away, betraying the fact that he was basking in the attention.

Behind her, Rito Village became smaller with every passing minute, slowly disappearing behind the clouds until even the largest windmill was but a wink in the distance. Glittering waters turned into grassy forests as flat ground made way to grey rocks and white tipped bushes.

Revali’s wings caught a strong gust of wind, gaining speed as he advanced them forward through to the Hebra Mountains. Clouds parted, the white shroud slowly lifting to reveal a whole different world.

She felt like they were flying amongst giants. White capped peaks dominated the landscape from all directions, filling her peripheries and extending out into the distance. Reduced visibility combined with the blinding ivory void made it seem like it could go on forever. She’d never seen mountains like this before.

The wind also sounded different here. She would have thought that as a Rito, perpetually at mercy to the gale, he would find it troubling. Between these icy mountains it was wild and unruly, every gust pushing into them from different directions. However, as they ventured deeper into Hebra, it became apparent that Revali felt no fear.

If the breeze slammed into them at full force, he always knew just how to angle himself. Tilting, flapping, flying—anything to propel himself higher and further than ever before.

When it rebelled, he would soothe it. When it dropped away, he would easily reclaim it.

And when it calmed, a steady push against his wings, he would truly soar.

It was a literal breath of fresh air. Maiya could have sworn she was dreaming, still asleep in her room at Cheska’s inn. Up in the air, Revali was far from the gloating asshole who had nearly killed her with an arrow and never apologised. At this moment, he was quiet and precise, riding the gale like he was born amongst the clouds.

They flew behind one of the many snowy peaks, an empty mountain pass coming into view. Keeping close to the exposed mountain face at their left, Revali began to slow, aiming for a far-away spot jutting out perpendicular to the cliffside.

Landing on a slab of extended rock, he gestured for her to sit down, surprising her when he did the same.

The Hylian tried not to look down. They were suspended about 50 feet above the ground. Wind sifted through her hair, dancing around them and lightly ruffling the feathers along his side. She took this time to catch her breath, the mountain air surprising her with its sweetness. Vaguely she could detect the scent of the pine sticking up like pillars in the pure-white snow underneath them.

Temporarily shutting her eyes, she focused on her other senses. Cold rock underneath her fingers. Whistles from the wind. The smell of the pine trees mingling with something else. Wax and oak, with a hint of honey. She racked her brain for a reason why such an odd combination was now familiar to her.

Something cold touched her nose.

Maiya opened her eyes. She watched as snowflakes fell from the sky, imprinting temporary patterns on her clothes and melting on her exposed skin.

Then, like most times, panic decided to reel in its ugly head from out of nowhere.

Now seated and breath returning to her lungs, deep trepidation filled her. One scenario came after another, joining together and mixing into a single, big clusterfuck of a ‘what-if?’ What if she couldn’t fight? What if her knives never found purchase?

What if she froze? She could see the moment playing out clear as day. The fear would paralyze her. Glued to the ground with an angry Talus rushing towards her. Stuck in place until she was crushed underfoot like a bug.

“Stop that.”

Maiya turned to see that Revali had taken out his bow, running a feather down the gears. It was an intricate weapon, painted a steadfast dark-blue and embellished with geometric patterns along its sides.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking so loudly.” He explained, grunting with effort when he tightened a screw.

Her eye twitched in annoyance at his tone. Must he always pick a fight with me? She frowned indignantly. “I’m not allowed to plan ahead?”

“You call that planning?" He scoffed. "Don’t fool yourself, enchanter. I’m not blind. You’re running your mind ragged again, overly ruminating on imaginary events that have yet come to pass.”

He began to adjust the bow’s string, running a feather down its side. “If you continue looking behind only to lose your head in the endless possibilities of potential threats, then you are defenseless to the already existing enemy running towards you. Expecting to survive like that is foolish. You will be better off fighting with your eyes closed.”

He set the bow down on his lap, training his full attention onto her. Her breath hitched. She found herself at the mercy of eyes a deep, emerald green. Piercing and sharper than any of the knives she was carrying, not a single detail escaping his notice.

“You will not be able to face your opponent effectively if you keep battling yourself. Truly look at what’s in front of you. Do that properly, and you will not miss.”

The Enchanter was silent, still feeling very much pinned under the intensity of his gaze. He’d only known her for a day or two and had already managed to find the holes in her armour, striking at them with such precise accuracy that she didn’t know whether she should thank him for the honest assessment, or push him off the ledge for his blatant rudeness and reading of her character. Her hand twitched as the rune sent a jolt up her arm, dancing along to the erratic beat of her heart.

But why…, she found herself wondering, unable to stop herself from staring back. Unknowingly, she leaned forward ever so slightly, flecks of snow falling around them. Why is he looking at me like that?

The mountainside shuddered, making them both jolt up in surprise. Hurriedly, she rushed to the edge of the short rock platform, the tension on her shoulders tightening in a vice grip at what she saw below.

It was colossal. Terrifying to the point where it almost crossed over the line to awe-inspiring by the sheer characteristic of its size. Rising from the earth, it shook and shuddered as if possessed, hobbling forward and slamming its gargantuan stone fists into the snow covered forest floor with so much force that it shook the mountain and their platform once again. From her vantage point, she could see the piece of ore at the top of its head, sparkling in the morning light like a jewel on a crown.

When the Talus’ hands came away from the ground, Maiya saw that they were coated in red. Not blood, she thought, too pink and thick. Though the longer she looked, she noticed the same pinkish red substance coating its body in different places. On its bare face, along its leg, all across its rock appendages. It flowed and bubbled, creeping along the Talus’ body like a parasitic weed, dripping like acidic rain and melting the pure white snow below.

Uleh did not mention that.

She coughed, her throat suddenly dry and scratchy. “I think that’s our target.”

Revali exhaled a small cloud of air, unbothered. “Hm? That’s new. I thought we would have to lure it up from the ground. Seems it has done most of the work for us.” He pointed to the quiver of arrows on his back, some arrowheads curled and shaped to resemble a single flame. “It will go down easy with a few of these in its body. After all, a monster that relies solely on a barrier of ice stands no chance against the blaze of fire.”

He stood up, brushing the snow from his shoulder, a futile gesture as more began to rain down anyway. “No rush, it won’t be able to see us from up here.” He tapped the rock floor with his talons. “It uses the vibrations in the ground to make an ‘educated’ guess as to where its victim would be. From our vantage point, it’s like we don’t even exist.”

She tilted her head to the side, watching the Talus amble and sway from left to right, still feeling apprehensive at how relaxed Revali was in this situation. Warriors really are something else.

He brought the bow to his front, stretching his wings to the sky like he was about to go for a leisurely run and not, well, fight a rock monster that would crush you if you so much as sneezed on it. “Well then, enchanter. I do hope this seat provides you with an adequate view for the show this morning. Just sit back and get comfortable.”

Maiya stood and stalked towards him, not caring that she was invading his personal space as she stabbed a finger into his chestplate. “Get comfortable? What are you talking about?”

He took advantage of the height difference, looking down at her past the tip of his beak like he was appraising a petulant child. “You honestly believe I would let you fight that thing?”

She wanted to rip her hair out. “This venture is purely for my benefit, I am not letting you do all the dirty-work while I sit on my ass and watch like some useless piece of shi-”

The ground shuddered again. Both barely had time to react when a boulder was sent flying in their direction.

She blinked, suddenly finding herself gripping onto Revali’s front as they hurtled to the ground below. The Rito Warrior somersaulted in the air, the seconds of uncontrolled flight and pure free fall eating up the scream bubbling in her throat.

Then, his wings were outstretched, miraculously by the Goddess' grace catching the wind, slowing their descent before they hit the snow covered ground with a painful thud.

Her brain rattled, eyes fluttering and struggling to clear the fog blocking her vision. Her ears rang as she heaved in a breath, the very action making her cry out in pain. Her ribs hurt. Her hand...her hand was—!!

Shattered rocks rained above them. The Enchanter yelped, Revali’s voice loud in her ear as he gasped in alarm, wrapping his wings around her and rolling them to the side just as a large chunk of what used to be their platform stabbed into the spot where their bodies were half a second ago.

The Rito released his hold on her, standing up and equipping his bow in a single fluid motion. Through the haze of her clouded vision, she watched as he took aim, pulled the bowstring back and fired.

It surprised her how a monster without a mouth could make such a chilling sound. Cracking rock and a screech so glaringly inhuman reached her ears, making her blood run cold.

There was truly no turning back now.

In the next moment, her arm found itself in a vice grip as Revali hauled her to her feet, pulling her along as they sought cover in a nearby sparse grove of trees. Chest heaving, her brain struggled to catch up to what had just transpired. Barely, it managed to process the feeling of blue feathered wings running down her arms, tilting her head from left to right and brushing the hair away from her eyes.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Checking for injuries.” He said tersely. “Where are we?”

“Huh?”

Head snapping up, his eyes once again commanded her undivided attention. They were the same emeralds as before, except this time completely void of any kind of relaxed confidence, replaced now by a sharp focus and a clinical detachedness that made her stomach clench. “Hylian, do you know where we are right now?”

“Rospro Pass.” She said, remembering the words on Uleh’s map.

“Good. Did anything hurt when we were running towards the trees?”

Maiya blinked quickly. “No. Oh, well actually— fuck!” She screamed, hands slapping Revali’s wing away as she pulled her arms in to wrap around her aching torso. Her left hand shook and spasmed, strings of energy rattling through her veins like barbed wire cutting into her skin. This was too much. Mortifyingly, tears sprang up in the corner of her eyes. She’d been through much, much worse, but no matter how many times her rune had tortured her, pain is no different. Feeling something stuck in her throat, she spat it out to the side, a glob of fresh blood hitting the snow.

“Sorry,” Revali said quickly. “I need you to move your arms away.” With a little more prying, she agreed, too caught up in her panic for herself and the active and angry rune in her hand to feel embarrassed that he was lifting up the edge of her shirt, his wing poking the reddened, inflamed skin above her ribs as she hissed.

“One of them is fractured, but not severe enough to pierce the skin or anything important internally. At least from what I can see. Can you take some short breaths for me?”

She nodded, wincing at the sound of her wheeze.

“Then you’ll live.” Both their heads shot up to the direction of the same otherworldly screech from before, echoing not too far away from their current position. “Tch,” the Rito archer straightened up, reaching into one of his side pouches and pulling out a wide bandage. He made quick work of wrapping it around her middle, tying the knot and yanking her shirt back down. “You need to run away, enchanter. Follow the path down the mountain, there’s a guard post at the foot. Tell them to bring reinforcements.”

She glared at him, eyes red and venomous. “No! Not without you. I already told you, Rito, this is my mess and I am seeing it through.”

“We don’t have time for this,” he muttered, frantically scanning the clearing for some other kind of cover and coming up blank. “I’m still unsure as to what it is, but there is something wrong with this Talus. I’ve fought only two previous but I am confident that this one is different. It’s faster—smarter somehow.”

“And it can see us.”

“Yes, either through sheer dumb luck or something else entirely. Its movements are unpredictable. Almost like it’s being controlled from the sidelines.” He gritted out, annoyance shining clear at having to solve such a puzzle under immense pressure. He swiped the fallen snow away from his eyes, growling.

She directed her gaze to the floor, focusing on the patch of red seeping into the snow by her feet. Her blood was a stain against what was once uniform purity. Another roar echoed through the trees, this time accompanied by the crash of heavy footsteps, dragging through the snow. “I know you’re one of the best of your people, but even then there’s no way you can hold it back for that long without getting hurt.” She tried to reason.

Revali shook his head, squeezing her shoulder before turning to bolt past the grove. “I’ll distract it. Run!”

“Wait!” She reached out to pull him back, but her hand was met with only empty air. Pure dread stole the breath from her lungs as she watched him exit out the trees and into the open clearing where the Talus waited to meet him. Another jolt of pain rocketed through her hand. Combined with the stabbing ache in her chest it was almost unbearable. She inhaled shakily, moving forward and following the tracks that Revali’s talons had made on the ground, fighting for her eyes to stay open as she stumbled out into the light.

Snow lightly fell from the sky, brushing down azure feathers that fluffed at the edges as Revali levelled his bow. He fired three in quick succession, cutting a red line through the air like a shooting star. Each sunk into the Talus’ icy exterior, melting patches with a low hiss and exposing the black rock underneath.

Falling forward, the monster sunk back into the ground. Revali took advantage of the situation, sprinting away towards the cliff face to gain more distance.

Maiya took this chance to move as well, footsteps sinking into the snowy ground as she struggled forward in the direction of the Talus. The ground shuddered again as she launched herself at it, a knife in each hand. She dug the blades into its exposed interior, holding on for dear life as she scrambled to gain purchase.

“What are you doing?!” A frantic, angry voice yelled out.

“Fire more arrows!” Bracing her feet on the Talus’ surface, she took a chance and let go of one of her improvised hand holds, grabbing another knife from her bandolier and swinging it up to stab it into the last open patch of rock. She hoisted herself up, screaming out in agony but nonetheless refusing to let go. “Please!” She called out, feet slipping against the rock’s surface.

Something whistled past her ear. An arrow embedded itself into the space above her, rapidly evaporating the ice. Then came another, and another, marking a pathway up to the Talus’ zenith. Again she freed her opposite hand, fractured ribs shifting and aching as she stabbed a dagger upwards, pulling herself closer to the ore.

The strange parasitic pink substance flowed down next to her, emitting a stench of rot that made her gag. Carefully she maneuvered around it, not wanting to find out for herself what would happen if even the skin of her hand were to brush it.

Continuing to climb, she struggled against another monster, one intent on taking full control of her wavering resolve. It was a beast formed of intense fear and regret, tugging at her mind and causing her hold to grow shakier with every passing minute. Why didn’t you run away?! It roared.

The thud of another arrow spurred her forward, her adrenaline running high as she devoted her focus solely to reaching the top.

Almost there. For a moment, she could finally see the ore’s surface, shining only an arm’s length away from her. Maiya reached again for her bandolier, shaking fingers brushing an empty pocket.

“Fuck sakes,” she cursed. She was out of knives.

Clouds of air escaped her mouth as she leaned her head on the monster’s surface, an intense feeling of hopelessness freezing her movements. Everything felt heavy, the swinging scabbard at her hip weighing her down and threatening to weaken her hold on her knife.

Wait, there’s still...

Her hand drifted down to where the enchanted dagger was sheathed. In response, the rune spasmed, sending a shock through her veins in disagreement as if it knew exactly what she was going to do.

Not once did Teacher mention what would happen if she were to use an enchanted weapon of her own make. She was neither Master nor an unworthy stranger. So many things could go wrong. Would it kill her? Would it even work? What would happen if—!

Underneath her, the Talus shuddered.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, the surface began to move, lifting itself from the snow. All around her, the parasitic fluid coating its body came alive, calling out in celebration. Several arrows rained down from the sky, piercing into the Talus’ armour but failing to deter it from its course. The monster began to stand.

Maiya unbuckled the enchanted dagger from its scabbard. Grabbing the hilt, she lifted it up, and with all the strength in her body, swung up and stabbed it into the Talus’ ore.

There was a flash of light, an ear piercing screech, and suddenly she was in the air again.

It was like a bad dream. She could see the white ground hurtling towards her. Curling into herself, she braced just in time before her body collided with the snow. Something solid hit her head, rattling her brain and causing her world to turn black.

.

.

.

Wa…ke…!

Fire. Everything was on fire. She was drowning in a sea of fleeing people, ribbons of smoke were filling her lungs and the smell of burning and rot was choking her. A blood moon was in the sky.

Wa...ke….p

A figure was standing at the doorway of a crumbling house, calling out to her. Their feathers were burnt, dissipating into ashes as the skin underneath began to melt to the bone.

“I’m sorry, there are too many people!” She tried to scream, voice refusing to leave her lips as she fought helplessly against the tide. “Don’t just stand there! You need to run! I can’t— ”

A lilting voice, warm as sunlight, whispered in her ear.

“Hylianlla. Please. Wake up.”

.

.

.

In a disorienting second, her surroundings slammed back into place. Maiya sucked in a shaky breath, her cheek throbbing. Cold snow melted underneath her, seeping into her clothes and stinging like a thousand needles pressing into her skin.

The ground began to shake. A familiar voice was calling out to her. “Get up! Valloo damnit, enchanter! Stand!”

Every vein, every cell and atom in her bruised body cried out. She wanted to go back to sleep. This was too much.

Weakly, she rolled onto her stomach, the pain in her ribs causing her eyes to snap open. Coughing, she spat more blood onto the snow, her arms and knees shaking as she slowly began to stand.

She’d been thrown into the midst of an earthquake. Dazed, her head lolled upwards, watching in frozen horror as the Talus barrelled towards her, its heavy steps falling in time to the shuddering of the world underneath her feet.

Behind it, Revali furiously loosed arrow after arrow. Not one missed their mark, but not a single shot had managed to melt through its ice encasing. Belatedly, she realised that the archer had run out of fire arrows. The odds were stacked against them.

Yelling, she threw herself to the side, dodging a giant rock hurled in her direction. Desperately, she scrambled back onto her feet, avoiding one stone after another by the skin of her teeth. The monster continued to gain on her, quickly closing the distance between them.

Maiya blinked away the sweat from her eyes, the fear in her heart that had kept her alive for this long gradually losing its hold over her to the pull of fatigue. If she devoted herself to running, she wouldn’t be able to avoid the Talus’ attacks. If she slowed her run to focus on dodging, it would catch up to her in seconds.

I’m not going to make it.

Mind reeling, she didn’t notice the rock jutting up behind her. She tripped, falling face first into the snow. The monster shrieked in delight. Shaking violently, she tried to stand again, falling back down as the muscles in her legs seized from overuse.

The Talus was but a metre away at this point. Even if she tried, she wouldn’t be able to outrun it. A rare moment of peace settled over her as she slowly stood up.

If she were to die here, she wouldn’t die lying down.

As the monster approached, she managed to catch the glint of her enchanted dagger still embedded into the cracking ore. It was uncontrolled, spewing out flames in an unfettered act of rage. Her greatest creation was violent and angry, but the Talus remained unshaken. It would take days for it to make a noticeable dent.

What have I done?

Standing her ground, she watched as the Talus raised its fists to the sky, blocking out the sun as it readied itself to slam down and put an end to her life. She didn’t know what to think. Light escaped from the seams of her glove, the rune all but bursting into flames. Hylia, did it hurt. But it didn’t matter. This would all be over soon.

She kept her eyes open, making a quiet wish somewhere deep in her tired soul that despite all the odds stacked against them, Revali would escape.

A streak of red sailed through the sky.

Equal parts shocked and horrified, Maiya watched as the Talus’ movements suddenly came to a halting stop. All reality slowed. Rock arms, once raised high as a terrifying monument to her mortality, dropped to its sides as it turned around.

Facing completely away from her, the monster directed its attention to the Rito archer behind it, revealing to the Enchanter the single fire arrow protruding from its back.

Revali dropped his bow, every one of his arrows completely expended. Out of options, he unsheathed the hunter’s knife strapped to his belt, gripping it tightly between both his wings. “Hey, blockhead!” He called out, beak curved up in a mocking, open smile. “Face me.”

The repulsive pink parasite bubbled and writhed, releasing a vile, high-pitched wail. Its host shuddered to life, starting forward and dragging its hulking body along the snow in the direction of the Pride of the Rito.

Her body moved on its own.

West Rospro Pass melted into a mess of sound and colour. The pain that rippled through her chest, the frustration, the fear; all of it blended together and were cast aside as every fibre in her being rallied and converged on a single goal.

Nothing mattered beyond Getting. There. First.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she sank her teeth into the glove, ripping it away. Energy sparked and crackled underneath her skin. Beams of blue light spilled from her scar, warming the surface of her cheek and begging for release.

“YOU STUPID BIRD!”

Revali lifted his head, green eyes stunned when he saw the Hylian sprinting closer.

The earth trembled as the Talus neared. In a last ditch effort she grabbed the Rito by his white scarf, yanking him behind her and placing herself between him and the path of the monster.

It was only steps away now, close enough for her to feel the chill of the ice on the tip of her nose. Operating on pure instinct, she raised her left arm, trying not to flinch as the shadow of the Talus’ form fell over the both of them.

Panic seized her unexpectedly. She was dumped into the ocean again and rapidly sinking, struggling to keep her head above the waves as the storm thrashed mercilessly around her.

Caught in the undertow, she fought to stay afloat.

This is my fault.

I did this.

I can’t let him die.

I can’t let him die!

I can’t—

Someone held her shoulder. Warm breath fanned the hairs on the back of her neck. Revali’s voice, lacking its usual sardonic edge, was but a gentle whisper on her skin, piercing through the water and pulling her up from the depths.

“Maiya.” He said, grounding her.

Without another thought, she plunged her glowing arm into the core of the Frost Talus. The parasite screamed and thrashed in alarm. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to let go, letting the pull of the rune take over.

Her outstretched hand sunk past the ice with ease, beams of blue light escaping through the cracks of the rock and illuminating the Pass.

In mere seconds, her vision was full of nothing but fire. The Frost Talus, in its unfathomable enormity, was lost and overtaken in the light of the flames.

[serensama]

To Release #3

Jaehee needs to let MC go.

Years ago, I had asked the amazing @promiscuous-jalapeno to write a HC for me when I was too scared to write my own and she did an amazing job- tore me right up it did. I asked her shortly thereafter if she minded if I tried to do it and she was kind enough to encourage me. Nearly 4 years and I’ve finally done it. 

Trigger warnings: Character death, mentions of blood and aneurysm.

This is for my friend, my sister- Susana. I don’t know how to let you go. But one day I will. And one day I will see you again. Rest well until then dear one.

This is for my baby, my puppy Meiko- run free my little one. I know you’ll be waiting for me too. Keep Susana company and keep her safe until we catch up, okay? Good Boy. 

-       It was just a routine check-up.

-       It was the bane of her existence so of course she delayed it as far as possible because she hated doing it.

-       But Jaehee wouldn’t relent when she found out the last time she had a pap smear was over six years ago.

-       In amidst all the “I can’t believe you’ve been so irresponsible” or “You have to look after yourself” and “What were you doing before you started dating me?” she didn’t fail to hear what her girlfriend was truly saying, I love you and I want you to love yourself as much as I do.

-       Which, if she was being honest was half the reason she stayed away from those little metal contraptions of pain was because she loved herself… but she was arguing semantics with herself and that wouldn’t get her anywhere. Or get her girlfriend to stop prodding her to go and get it done.

-       So, Jaehee stopped nagging and just booked her in for an appointment.

-       MC could still remember the instant rage she felt at hearing her just make a choice for her, especially when it came to her own body. Yes she understood that Jaehee had done it coming from a place of good and only with the purest of intents- but it still pissed of her off to no end. She almost threw the dough she was kneading right in her pretty face. “Jaehee, I’m not a child-”

“Well you’re certainly acting like it.” “Urgh! Stop it! I know that I needed to get tested but I wanted to do this in my own time, with my own doctors and-”

“I booked it in with your doctor.” “That’s not the point!” “We can reschedule the appointments to later if you wish.” “Yes! I will reschedule the… wait… appointments?” “Of course, our appointments. You don’t think I would ask you to do something you’re so obviously worried  alone would you?” she asked wiping the sweat on her upper lip on the back of her arm, completely focused on finishing up the cleaning of the kitchen. Jaehee waited for a moment to see if she would answer before continuing with a disbelieving shake of her head. “You know me better than that. I may have booked you in without your knowledge but I was never going to force you into going. I just wanted to kick you into action is all. Your health is important to me. “… I know.” “I love you.”

“I know.” “That and no-one else makes cinnamon rolls as good as you can.”

“Ha, damn straight they don’t.”

-       At the very least when MC finally lay there ready to be examined, with her hands fisted under her ass and legs embarrassingly spread flush against the bed, she was comforted by Jaehee’s soft caresses of her shoulder and her kind, encouraging words whispered into her ear- MC knew she was not alone. A favour she fully intended to repay  once her girlfriend replaced her to be the one who was prodded and poked.

-       It was over within 15 minutes for the both of them.

-       She didn’t even know why she had kept putting it off. Yes it was awkward and uncomfortable but for the peace of mind it gave to Jaehee and the irreplaceable smile it drew upon her face, she’d do it again in a heartbeat. Well. In the next three years at least.

-       Life went much back to normal, day in and out at the coffee shop and then back home with her… she couldn’t ask for much more than that.

-       She had all but forgotten about the test until she got a call three days later. She remembered her doctor’s voice on the other line asking if she wanted to come in and the instead dread that filled her veins at her tone. Why would they call if it was all normal? Why would they ask to speak face to face if it wasn’t serious? MC couldn’t recall exactly what she said but she knew it was in the lines of “just put me out of my misery.”

-       But she couldn’t.

-       She said they results were inconclusive and abnormal results didn’t necessarily mean the worst, however further testing needed to be done.

-       Fine. More horrible tests. She could deal with that. She could. It was going to be fine.

-       MC had delayed telling Jaehee, she didn’t know how to tell her. Whenever she rehearsed it in her head it always sounded like she was already saying her goodbyes and the last thing she wanted was to give her a coronary because she misspoke.

-       It was only until the night before her next scheduled test that she finally gave in and told her. Just blurting it out without any preamble because no matter how she said it, her fear coloured her words.

-       Jaehee… took it very well.

-       Surprisingly well.

-       She sat there for a couple of minutes, eyes fluttering for a moment before blinking rapidly, as if her brain was catching up and processing everything MC had just said to her. “So… at the moment they aren’t sure what it is and need to do further tests to make sure they can treat whatever it is you may have properly, is that correct?” she asked clasping her hands together in a way that reminded MC of Jumin after Saeyoung and Yoosung had just told him that they took Elizabeth the Third to the wrong groomers and they had shaved off all her fur bar her head and tail- like he was trying to figure out how to fix their mistake but also find a way to kick their asses. Jaehee may not want to kick her ass but it was as if she was attempting to already plan how to fix this all for her… and most likely disappointed in her for not telling her sooner. “I’m sorry okay?” MC sulked, pressing her palms against the top of her thighs, fingers scrunched in the fabric of her dress. “I know I messed up by not telling you sooner I just… I didn’t know how to. I don’t even know what to think at the moment.”

-       Jaehee reached over, her dainty fingers curling around her own and giving them a reassuring squeeze. MC peered up from her lap and into her partner’s large eyes and returned her tentative smile. “Don’t apologise, I get it. I totally do. I’m not mad. You didn’t mess up- I just want to make sure I have all the details I need to help you. I’m coming to this a little later than you so I’m catching up and-” “Planning?” “Ah… yes. Yes I guess I am. Take the girl out of the Assistant role, but you can’t take the Assistant out of the girl.”

-       MC could understand that. Everyone reacted things differently and if Jaehee needed to gather information and plan for all possible contingencies then she would not deny her that. Herself- she much preferred to wallow and stress because that was all she could do.

-       Physical exam, Biopsy, Biopsy, Bloods and Physical exam, Imaging…

-       She was really getting over seeing her doctors and sitting in waiting rooms. Getting real sick of Jaehee calling off sick with her to sit with her at every appointment and asking all the questions she should be asking herself.

-       It was two weeks later after all the tests had come back, her hand in Jaehee’s, sat in two worn and uncomfortable armchairs that she received the news she had been dreading to hear. Stage 3. Spread to lymph nodes. Was Asymptomatic. Aggressive treatment for aggressive growth. Immediately. Shit. Shit.

-       She could feel the squeeze of Jaehee’s hand tighten with each moment that passed. MC glanced to the side to see a calm veneer painted upon her girlfriend’s face as she nodded along with whatever the doctor was saying, interjecting whenever appropriate to ask more questions or to clarify something she may have misunderstood.

-       MC on the other hand could barely talk, she believed she may have thanked the doctor and agreed to seeing them for a follow up and to start their treatment regime. She remembered picking up her bag and apologising to someone she ran into getting off the elevator. Recalled the feel of the cheap leather on the backseat of the taxi under her hands as she slid herself over to make room for Jaehee.

-       After moments of silence, Jaehee cleared her throat and looked out the window. “Um.. what did you want for lunch?”

-       And then she cried. Cried for her anxiety and her fear, cried for her frustration and her exhaustion, cried for herself and for Jaehee. She didn’t care that the driver kept looking up in his rear-view mirror to gawk at the sobbing mess she had become; all she could handle was the immense weight of what she was to face and the feel of her girlfriend’s hand slip into her own, the familiar feeling loosening up the shackles that were constricting her chest just that little bit. It was her turn to squeeze Jaehee’s hand.

-       Being at hospital sucked. Like… s u c k e d.

-       She hated that her friends couldn’t see her because they were afraid she’d get sicker and that Jaehee was taking even more time away from work to be with her. She was tired all the time and the room wouldn’t stop spinning, food tasted funny and she was just bored. MC was so used to running around from dawn till dusk, she was always talking to people and baking and laughing and… God, when was the last time she really laughed?

-       … When was the last time Jaehee had laughed?

-       She was always so calm and understanding it wanted to make her scream sometimes. But she kept quiet because… she just didn’t have any words.

-       The surgery and first course of treatment went well enough that the doctors were happy for her to leave. Even though she was being wheeled out, it felt like she was dancing. She was never so happy to see the crowded streets and being stuck in a traffic jam. It was so much better than sitting in a hospital bed feeling sorry for herself.

-       It was also better than watching Jaehee pouring over different journals and websites to better prepare of what may come in regards to her illness and other treatments which could help progress her rehabilitation. Or so she thought it would be, if the woman ever stopped.

-       Jaehee was no longer working, putting more and more responsibility on the assistant manager than she should have been. No more.

-       “Jaehee?” she called out from the sofa to her at the dining table, the woman looking so tiny amongst all the books that were open and the loose pieces of paper strewn about everywhere with her scribbled notes. Jaehee pushed up her glasses, something she hadn’t worn in the longest time and turned to face her. “Can we go to the coffee shop please? I’m really over just staying here doing nothing but watching daytime soaps. I can literally feel my brain rotting.”

Jaehee frowned and sat up, wincing as she stretched out the knotted muscles of her lower back and craning her neck side to side, loud cracks resounding in the air. “MC,” she began, the disapproval in her tone more than evident. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, you’re stabilised sure, but why should we take more risks than necessary?” she posed as she spun her body to completely face her.

-       MC took in the sight of her. Hair pulled back into a messy bun, fingerprints all over the lenses on her glasses; clothes rumpled with a coffee stain down her front from where she accidentally spilled it on herself earlier that morning as she multi-tasked between balancing the shop’s books and researching if there were any homeopathic remedies that would help with her aches and pains to work alongside her prescribed drugs. Jaehee was burning herself out and if she didn’t take care of herself soon, the next time they’d be in hospital would be for her and there was no way she’d allow Jaehee to get that sick and drained ever again. She made that promise when she first joined the RFA and not this illness- not even Jaehee herself- would make her break her promise.

-       “You took a risk on me and that paid off. You took a risk on the business with me… and that’s paid off… can’t you trust me about this again? It’s barely a risk at all. Just me in the corner with a book as you work.” She could see Jaehee’s resolve weaken as she gave her the best rendition of puppy eyes she could muster. Her beleaguered girlfriend pulled off her glasses and untied her hair, running her fingers through them as she let out a long, deep groan. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that right?” she grinned, the mirth not quite reaching her sleep deprived eyes.  

-       It took a while but they both learned how to adjust to their new normal. It took a little bit longer to get ready each day, making sure they had the right concoction of pills to last her until they made it back home and packing things like blankets, extra pillows or scarves to ensure her comfort at their cafe.

-       MC had tried multiple spots within their quaint little shop, however trying to find a location that was both comfortable and in the direct line of vision of her lovely girlfriend proved difficult. This chair was too hard. That chair too soft. This chair she couldn’t see Jaehee except for a tuft of hair- until finally, on their fifth day and a lot of back pain later, she sat in the large wingback chair by the window, just to the left of the register. Jaehee would began to place a reserved sign there so no one could take the seat away from  her beloved MC.

-       Jaehee was grateful that they could spend time together like this, even if it meant just stealing looks at MC every so often whenever she got the chance. At night they would come home and curl up on the couch, both wrapped up in a quilt with a cup of tea in their hands as they watched whatever movie played on the TV. It didn’t matter because she never paid attention to it, she focused on the feel of the woman’s body beside her.

-       Because it felt right to have her next to her.

-       Because it felt right to hear her muted laughter, or how she sometimes slurped her tea near the end of the cup or just to hear the breath go in and out of her.

-       … and because she knew all those things were beginning to fade.

-       Although she had not succumbed to any of the viruses that had been around during the winter season, she grew more lethargic, her once healthy body slowly diminishing in size and strength; the beat of her heart strained under the hand she pressed against her sleeping girlfriend’s chest at night to make sure she was still with her.

-       She had done that every night since they received the diagnosis. Every night.

-       But she held it together, she had to. She had to do it for MC, to show her that she didn’t have to worry about anything besides getting better. It didn’t matter if she was being torn apart inside, or if she was falling behind in her work at the shop, that she never slept anymore or wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pretend this was just one long nightmare. It was for MC. She had to keep it together for MC.

-       She had gotten worse. There was… it had spread too much… too aggressive… too fast. It was all too much and again, MC accepted it all, no words to say.

-       That was when Jaehee decided upon the only correct plan moving forward.

-       She spoke to Jumin. He had agreed to buy the shop from her on the proviso that when MC was better that she buy it back from him and continue on as per normal.

-       That night, at home with a tub of ice cream, sitting alone on the floor of her living room did she allow herself a moment of weakness. From one tear free-falling from her eye to another, she allowed them to pool into the melting confection resting between her thighs. She had tried her best to stem the flow, reminding herself of the responsibilities she had and not to wallow but now that she allowed the dam of emotions open there was no stopping it. Jaehee bit down on her bottom lip and muffled cries eked through her teeth, racking breaths rattling through her chest as she dug the heels of her palms into her eyes- praying for her treacherous eyes to stop, just stop. Please.

-       … Someone.

-       Please make this all stop.

-       Jaehee had fallen asleep slumped over the coffee table, eyes sore and face puffy from crying and one hand sticky from having been submerged in thawed ice cream for half the night.

-       That was how MC found her, comforter wrapped around her like an adorable sleepy handroll. “Baby, did you sleep here all night? Is everything alright?” she asked her, the concern plain on her face. Jaehee fought with herself to not let her thoughts transfer to her expression, of course nothing was alright, it hadn’t been alright for a long time. However Jaehee was a fighter and so was MC, she would not admit defeat just yet.

“Oh yes, just a harder day at work than normal yesterday,” she lied as she slowly moved her way to stand up. MC grimaced at Jaehee’s sluggish and pained movements. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to come in yesterday and if that made you worry more. I’m much better today, I can go in-”

“That won’t be necessary we’re both staying home,” she replied matter-of-factly, side stepping around MC as she made her way to the kitchen to clean herself up. She heard the soft shuffles of MC’s feet patter behind her as well as a sound of confusion bubble within her throat. “Huh? What? No it’s fine, let me just clean up and we can go-” “We’re not. I sold the cafe.”

-       MC nearly fell down at the revelation. “You what?” she asked, sleep hoarse voice breaking as she leaned against the wall for support, not trusting her knees to keep her standing. Jaehee wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel and sighed, not really in the mood to discuss anything without having caffeine in her body. “I sold the shop to Jumin. This way I can stay home with you and we can go to the all the doctors’ appointments together and try to figure this thing out step by step.” Jaehee flicked on the kettle and began preparing two cups, far too tired to brew anything so she reached for the instant coffee.   “Jaehee-”

“Mm?”

“Stop.” “You don’t want coffee? Prefer tea?” “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” “I don’t understand-” “You need to get the cafe back from Jumin,” MC replied with more life in her voice than she had had for the last couple of weeks. Jaehee put down the teaspoon and braced herself against the countertop, head pressed against the cabinets lined along the wall. “You can’t stop living just because-” “Because you’re dying?” she yelled, not able to tear her eyes away from the spot on the wall. “I can’t change anything because you’ve resigned yourself to this without even a word for me? For yourself? How can you act like any of this isn’t driving you insane?! How can you stand there and just ask me to not do everything I can-”

-       MC stepped forward and opened her arms, encompassing Jaehee into her quilt covered embrace, her arms holding her as tightly as she was able. “I know… I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t have the words. That I have nothing to say about what is happening to me. I’m sorry that I left you to speak and ask and do everything for me and also expect you to think of yourself,” she pulled away to see Jaehee’s with misty eyes and cheeks splattered with red. Delicately placing a hand against her cheek, MC pressed a faint kiss to the tip of her nose and breathed in time with her. “I know you’re busy looking out for me… let me… while I still can… let me look out for you.”

-       The shop was back in Jaehee’s name within the day.

-       As difficult as it was, MC managed to make it into work with Jaehee. Even as the days passed and she grew weaker, she still mustered the strength to smile at everyone who would stop and talk to her. She would ask for the gossip from regulars who she had learned so much about over the years. Jaehee would take frequent breaks to check up on her and to ask if she needed anything. MC would always just smile and ask for a new book from the stack their staff would always add to. Her heart full whenever their employees would come up at the start of the day and drop off another non-descript book for her to read or doodle over.

-       Some days were good, some days were… not good.

-       More and more often Jaehee would look over from serving a customer and MC was fast asleep, clutching a book to her like a child with their teddy.

-       Every passing day it took so much more out of her to get to her chair, to drink her coffee, to turn a page… to smile. To hide her pain. There were days she was so heavily medicated that Jaehee had begged for her to go back home or ‘for God’s sake please let me take you to the hospital!’

-       MC would always snap out of it enough to shake her head and reply, “Sorry Jaehee, I’m up to a really good part of the story. I need to finish it.”

-       Then one day she didn’t.

-       She had closed up shop, luckily it was a quiet day so she made the executive decision to finish up early. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll be just a minute.” She was wiping down the last table just beside MC and looked over with a tired smile on her face, to see MC sleeping soundly- with her latest book on the ground. Jaehee could feel her heart leap up in the base of her throat, her breath stolen away in an instant. Slowly but steadily she walked over to MC, deliberately clicking her heels loudly against the floor to wake her. When she reached her chair she let her hand hover over her face to see if she could feel her warm breath against her palm. She pressed her cheek. Shook at her- her body completely limp as it sank against the armrest.

-       Jaehee plummeted to her knees and dove into MC’s lap, the woman screaming into it as she allowed herself to cry, praying that her girlfriend would come back and lay her hands atop her head and run her fingers through her hair.  To touch her, hold her, god damn it just- anything. Wiping her face against the blanket that rested upon MC’s legs, Jaehee hiccoughed and spluttered, not caring if any passer-by happened to see her on the floor in tears. She swiped at her face haphazardly, knowing that her skin would be red and irritated from her lack of care. Fighting to regain her breath that continued to elude her, lungs burning, eyes stinging, heart cold.

-       On her hands and knees she moved to pick up the fallen book from the ground, eyes scanning for a title to see what were the last words that may have graced her consciousness.

“… I’m sorry I’ve left it to these pages Jaehee, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to say the words when you needed them. I may not have them still... but maybe you can find them now- somewhere in these last few diaries I have written for you. My thoughts. My fears. My dreams. My love for you.. Every hope. Every wish, It’s all here and all for you. The greatest part of my story. I love you.”

-       Jaehee squeezed her eyes shut and wailed, her cries filling the largely empty space, echoing back to her. Sitting back onto her haunches she tried to steady herself as best as she could, clutching the book to her chest like she had seen MC do countless of times. Perhaps if she held it hard enough, it would start to resemble the way it felt to hold her- and if she pushed the realms of her imagination- the way it felt to be held.

-       Jaehee couldn’t bring herself to read any of the 4 diaries MC had written. She couldn’t. She knew that MC meant them to be comforting, maybe even assist her in moving on- but she didn’t want to comforted, she didn’t want to move on. She had cordoned off MC’s chair and table, with a permanent ‘reserved’ sign to ensure no one would be able to sit where only she belonged. There, perched upon the table in a neat pile, were the books; gathering dust in between the weekly dusting that one of the staff members were tasked to do.

-       That was until half a year later, when one of the regular’s children had slipped under the velvet rope and sat in the chair, the young girl picking up on of MC’s books and tried to read her beautiful, looping script.  Jaehee had briefly looked up and had to double take, not even realising she had screamed out; scaring the child who shoved the book back into the pile of books frantically trying her best to not earn more of the “coffee-lady’s” ire. Her panicked efforts resulted in all the books falling to the ground- the loud thuds only punctuating the already silenced café.

The mother apologised to Jaehee feverishly, she had been speaking to her friend and didn’t realise that her daughter had wandered off- didn’t know the girl had gone to the place she had once spent so much time with MC just months before.

-       Jaehee pinched the sides of her nose and waved off the apology, bending down to apologise for frightening the little girl who had helped to bring joy to her girlfriend’s last months. Even though her nerves were frazzled, she knew that MC would be clucking her tongue disapprovingly at her, something that oddly enough made her smile. She had been doing that more often lately. Smiling at something MC had said or done instead of collapsing into a despairing heap.

-       Jaehee ran her hands along the arm of the chair and whispered her hellos and her apologies for letting someone disturb her spot before picking up the books off the ground. She went to reach for the last book which dropped open to a random page, the paper slightly crinkled from the fall. She could feel the tell-tale pin pricks in her nose and the corners of her eyes as her fingers cradled the back of its spine, balancing precariously on the curve of her fingers.

-       There on the top of the page was the recipe for her famous cinnamon rolls, something Jaehee had tried her best to replicate again and again when her lover was alive to no avail. No one made them better than MC. Jaehee sniffed as she found herself sitting into the long abandoned chair as she tearfully read the secrets MC had left for her on the page. The brunette paused to see a small note in the corner: “The reason mine were better was because I always made them for you. Now please, keep making them for me.”

-       Jaehee wiped the last remnants of her tears from her face and then nodded to herself. Moving to the kitchens she washed her hands and wrapped MC’s apron around her waist. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed up her sleeves and got to work.

[meggannn]

i would also like to see post sidonis + backstory wip info

the backstory fic: this was an attempt to write my shepard's life pre-enlistment, explaining her relationship with the gang and the girl she took under her wing who was eventually killed in a gang war. but trust me that it was really bad and that's why i abandoned it a long time ago! lmfao

the post-sidonis thing: this is a rewrite of the conversation with garrus following the sidonis quest, where garrus is pissed that shepard prevented him from taking the shot. but the reason that’s sat on the backburner is because i eventually realized (as you and i have discussed lol) that i hate garrus’s loyalty quest and i’ve rewritten it in my head, so any attempt to write a post-sidonis fic will have to come after i’ve written my actual sidonis quest rewrite, and i just have too much going on to think about that at the moment lol.

it’s not very long, so here is the entirety of the document, from back when this was just about garrus being angry. be warned this is old and unedited, gdrive tells me that the last time i looked at this was in 2017:

Garrus storms into the battery, jams the lock, and activates the privacy shields. He narrowly avoids driving his fist into the wall, but -- after a split-second of consideration — doesn’t feel assured he wouldn’t break a bone against Cerberus’s bloody top-of-the-line warship. Instead, he slams his hands against the console, ignoring the flashing lights as the screen awakens from sleep, grips the edges, and sighs.

What the hell had she been thinking?

The thing that gets him — the thing that bloody gets him is that it had come down to the line, to the second he’d seen the pinpricks of his dark eyes, a single trigger keeping him from putting the ghosts of his team to rest --

No. Suddenly there was Shepard, too, and she was harder to budge than his own conscience.

Even in his own mind, he struggles to find the line between the commander, the friend he knows her to be, and the help -- the accomplice he nearly made of her. He knows that Shepard has always, always trusted the evidence and her gut in tandem. And the facts are that he asked her to take him at his word, without proof. The detective in him knows it isn’t for lack of trust that drove her to step into his shot, it was out of necessity: to question the suspect personally, to hear it straight from the source without bias or filter. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

If he asked her why, Shepard would certainly explain. She would spin him some bullshit about taking the high road, or about revenge not being the answer. What he’s worried of, what he’s terrified of, is that she would explain, and he would let her, and that she would convince him it was for the best. He didn’t want to be convinced -- he wanted to be right on his own terms, he wanted her help with this one fucking thing --

A faint beep from the other side of the door snaps him back into the present.

“Override,” comes Shepard’s voice from the other side. A swish of the lock and a rush of air at his back.

Garrus clenches his teeth.

There’s a tense sort of silence for -- he counts -- about a minute and a half. She cracks first.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you,” she says finally.

“Shepard -- ” He pushes off the console and turns around. He vaguely registers that the door is closed again behind her; good. No reason for any of the crew to hear this. “Don’t feed me any crap on revenge getting the better of me. You waited until the moment I had him in my scope to toss it all out the window to satisfy your conscience. I asked you for help. You agreed.”

Even as he says it, he knows it’s not entirely fair. She hadn’t kept her disapproval secret; it had weighed on him through the scuffles in the warehouse, like a weight around his neck, knowing this was his mission and Shepard had disapproved -- and he can’t rightfully claim he had given her room to argue her case.

“I didn’t wake up this morning planning on putting myself in between a sniper and his target,” Shepard snaps back. She scrubs a hand over her face; Garrus has the presence of mind enough to notice she looks exhausted, like she’s been wrestling with the decision herself. “It happened in the moment. I stood there. I listened. I’d heard the story from you, but I needed to hear it from him.”

“And what, exactly, did that piece of filth say to change your mind?” Garrus snarls. He feels full to bursting with some unnamed energy and stalks the length of the corridor in two quick strides.

Shepard is still staring at him, so infuriatingly calm. “You know exactly what he said. If you still think I blocked your shot out of kindness for him, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

“Right,” he spits, and he needs to nip this pseudo-moral bullshit at the root before the conversation gets sanctimonious again. “It was for my benefit. That explains why I feel so much better, you know, now that he’s still alive.”

“Don’t turn this into a joke. You know why I didn’t move. The galaxy wouldn’t have lost a decent man if you’d pulled the trigger.” She pauses for a moment, assess him, and something goes cold in his chest as he wonders if she finds what she sees lacking. “Then again, maybe it would have.”

He takes a step closer to her. He didn’t intend the move to be intimidating, but he realizes just how much he towers over her in this moment, with his neck bent down. Her eyes close, in a tense sort of irritation. “I’ve killed before, Commander,” he says, not aggressively. “We wiped out a few dozen mercenaries between the two of us just today. And you draw the line at a degenerate bastard that cost my men and half my face?”

“To tell you the truth,” she runs fingers through her hair and laughs in the sort of half-hearted way that says nothing about this is funny at all, “I’m still not entirely sure I do, Garrus.”

“Do not,” he says lowly, “tell me you’re regretting it.”

Shepard drops her hand and stares at him. He’s never seen her attention fixed on him with such hard, determined purpose. It’s the look she normally gives mercenaries they’re shaking for information, criminals they’re convincing. Something about it makes clench his jaw further, a pool of shame and anger mixing equally in his chest.

“Vakarian,” she says his name slowly. “I could stand here and give you a laundry list of reasons why you shouldn’t have committed cold-blooded murder in the middle of a public square.” Shepard stares at him, all five feet of her, and despite himself he feels like a fresh recruit again, fifteen years of age with markings fresh-painted across his face, staring up at a livid drill sergeant. “But you’re not interested in listening and I’m not interested in fighting with a wall. Come talk to me when you know who you’re really angry at.”

She turns and moves to open the door.

“I took him on my team,” Garrus growls. “I put my faith in that asshole. He let me down. He let his team down. It cost their lives.”

“You imagine you’re the only one who’s been betrayed in the galaxy?” Shepard looks at him over her shoulder but doesn’t turn around. “The only one who’s seen their entire team dead on a commanding officer’s mistake?”

Garrus has a flash of remembrance that Shepard has seen two of her crews slaughtered; once at Akuze, and again over the blistering snow and wind of Alchera. He grapples with another sinking feeling at the knowledge that she is heading a team through the Omega-4 relay against odds so impossible that most of the ground team had taken to jokingly calling it a “suicide mission.” Garrus has used the phrase himself more than once in conversation with the crew, in that half-serious tone he seems to have adopted after Omega when joking about the probability of his own demise.

Looking at the mission’s leading officer now, it suddenly doesn’t seem so amusing.

“You know it’s not the same,” he says around a dry mouth.

“No, it’s not,” she sighs and rests her forearm against the door, forehead leaning against her wrist. “…And if my CO on Akuze had survived, I can’t promise I wouldn’t’ve wanted to put a bullet in his head myself.”

“Then why, Shepard?” He’s tired of arguing. The burst of adrenaline from earlier is gone, anger fading into the kind of bone-weary exhaustion that he’s only known to follow a failed mission. He can't help but think that is exactly what this is, the disconcerting feeling that the justice hasn’t been seen to, that the responsible party got away, and it stings something else in him that he’s feeling it with Shepard for the first time.

Some tension in her body seems to evaporate. Shepard slowly looks up at him. “I don’t know, Garrus,” she says calmly. “You tell me.”

And that’s the part he can’t understand, and he hates himself for not understanding.

Shepard had stood aside, in that last second. It hadn’t been an accident. The gap between her skull and Sidonis’s had extended about a meter. Garrus is a good enough sniper that Lantar’s brains would have smeared the floor without Shepard feeling the whistle of the bullet pass by her forehead. She’d said her piece, woven her magic, and then stepped aside, and damn her for making him feel guilty in that moment for wanting what he’d needed. What closure could come from letting him go? What benefit could come from letting a murderer, a betrayer free to roam the galaxy? What good could it do his own conscience?

And yet --

He could’ve pulled the trigger anyway, and he didn’t.

He could’ve moved position. He didn’t.

“Go. Just -- tell him to get the hell out of here.”

Fuck it. Just -- fuck.

[sonofsallyjackson]

A World Not Quite Her Own (pt 1/3) - The Estelle Fic

So here it is, my first foray into the Percy Jackson fandom despite being obsessed with the books when I was in elementary/middle school.  This started as my take on Estelle’s childhood, but morphed into something more with a Percabeth wedding scene in chapter 2.  AO3 Link Here.

Estelle Blofis had never lived in a world without monsters.  Many people in this world would have been driven mad by this knowledge. But for Estelle, it was a simple fact of the universe like humans need air to survive, or blue chocolate chip cookies are the best dessert.  Maybe knowing about monsters should have made her scared, but all it did was show her the heroes who would always come in and save the day.

Many of those heroes made the best babysitters.  

Sally always let out a sigh of relief when Grover was in town.  The Lord of the Wild didn’t even grumble good-naturedly as he took on his excitable charge for the day.  Grover didn’t need the promise of Sally’s seven-layer bean dip or the collection of recycling curated for maximum crunch to make it through their outings.  He had always wanted to teach humans to appreciate the wild, treasure it, and protect it.  Grover might not be able to teach all humans, but he certainly could teach Estelle.   They sat in an isolated corner of Central Park together, occasionally bothered by druids, but mostly it was just the two of them.  They would sit directly in the grass, Estelle’s orange tutu and rainboots regardless of the weather stretched out next to hairy legs that Grover mostly didn’t bother to cover anymore.  While Estelle likely fidgeted just as much as she listened (spinning breaks were deemed a necessity after a single outing), she did listen to him.  Grover was the best at answering questions and like any small child, Estelle had a lot of questions.  So as she grew,  Estelle sang hi to the individual trees on walks with her parents and proclaimed solemnly in pre-school that “Pan was dead”  (a reference that thankfully her teacher didn’t understand but had resulted in a headache-inducing conversation for Paul).   

In comparison, babysitting with Rachel was essentially one long arts and crafts session.  Finger paintings completely covered the fridge by the time Estelle was three.  They’d repainted the mural on Estelle’s bedroom wall about four times by the time she was ten, with each rendition more fantastical than the last.  Occasionally Sally regretted the afternoons spent writing with Rachel over once she discovered the paint covered mess that once had been her daughter, but overall with the sound of laughter echoing through the house (and only one minor prophecy), she supposed things could be a lot worse.  

On days where snow piled up outside their window, but Estelle adamantly refused to wear anything but a swimsuit and a feather boa,  Paul frantically phoned Piper.   She was at the top of a very short list of people who could make Estelle dress appropriately for the weather.  No one was sure if it was a form of diluted charmspeak or just Piper’s knack for finding outfits that technically could be worn in public but still fit the (unfashionable) vibe Estelle was going for.  

Tyson was never allowed to babysit Estelle by himself, but he made up for his clumsiness and general lack of knowledge of human safety measures with an excess of enthusiasm.  He took to having a baby sister so well that no one really bothered to explain that technically the two of them weren’t related.  Still Tyson’s one eye seemed just as normal to Estelle as his hugs or extremely calloused hands.  

Nico really wasn’t her babysitter.  He would stop by the apartment looking for Percy or Sally, but would end up staying because Estelle had him wrapped around her finger.  The first time they’d met Nico had come over with bad news regarding Apollo’s quest.  Estelle couldn’t actually remember what had happened since she was so young, but Sally liked telling the story, complete with pictures, so Estelle knew it by heart anyway.  Percy hadn’t been home yet and since he was with mortals working on a group project, Iris messages would have been a no-go even if the cosmos weren’t trying to prevent demi-god communication.  So Nico had sat on the couch in the living room occasionally pestered by Sally’s “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat?” and “You look tired, sweetheart.  You have time for a nap if you want one.”  

In the end, Nico hadn’t gotten that nap because he’d been greeted by tiny hands pulling themselves upright on the couch cushion next to him.  Estelle’s face had been alight with mischief that Nico would have previously sworn was only possible from a child of Hermes.  Her black curls swung wildly around her as she wiggled her way onto the couch and into Nico’s lap.  Estelle made herself comfortable while Nico looked ready to throw up.  At fourteen, he’d fought in two different wars, but one crawling 10-month-old seemed to be enough to break him.  As Estelle grew older, her little chants of “Nico! Nico! Nico!” had so much power over the boy who wanted a family more than anything else in the world.

Annabeth was one of her most frequent babysitters.  She practically lived at their apartment when she wasn’t at school, or helping her cousins or the camp.   She did keep Percy from giving into Estelle’s every whim which wasn’t ideal, but Estelle could deal with eating a full plate of vegetables if it meant hanging out with Annabeth.  Unfortunately,  Annabeth did not share Estelle’s undying love for all things Little Mermaid and often muttered “Seaweed Brain, I don’t know how but this is your fault.  If I have to hear Under the Sea one more time, I’ll-“ under her breath whenever just watching Disney movies was suggested.  So spending time with Annabeth often meant playing with Legos, creating a disjointed collection of buildings. Mini replicas of New York landmarks would be dwarfed by uneven towers because Estelle cared more about height than stability, aesthetics or really any other architectural principle.  When Annabeth entered school, she was less inclined to spend any bit of free time still thinking about architecture.  So she gave Estelle a little potholder loom and taught her the basics of weaving.  Sally had ended up with more neon-colored monstrosities than she knew what to do with, but the girls could spend hours in relative quiet, so it seemed a small price to pay.  

And then there was Percy, the biggest hero in Estelle’s eyes.  Her love wasn’t like the hero-worship of new demigods, who idolized him for defeating the Titans, surviving Tartarus, or going on countless quests.  Estelle believed more than anything else in the world that her brother would be there to catch her whenever she fell and there was no monster he couldn’t beat.  

Even before she could walk, Estelle had seen her brother’s powers.  Some things were easy to miss, like the way Percy could wash the dishes without getting wet at all, but others stood out to her. The waves at Montauk had calmed so he could teach her how to swim but were quick to come back to life if anyone stared too openly at Annabeth or his mom.   While Annabeth built elaborate sandcastles, Percy added fantastical moats and laughed as Estelle roared like a minotaur to tear it down.   He could hold his breath forever, which seemed awfully unfair the first time Estelle had tried to swim underwater and ended up with a mouthful of saltwater.  Percy was always willing to translate for the fish at the aquarium, although Estelle was pretty sure he did the funny voices for her benefit.  When Percy had landed Blackjack on their apartment’s roof after being called back to camp for an emergency, he had translated for his old friend too. Estelle loved those translations the most, even if they weren’t entirely accurate.  

“Seriously, Blackjack, can you cool the language around my little sister?”  

By age five, her older brother had bought wooden swords for the two of them to practice in the living room.  Percy kept the moves simple, demonstrating before lightly wrapping his fingers around her tiny wrists and guiding her through the movements.  Estelle would copy them intently with her nose scrunched up and her tongue stuck slightly to the side in concentration.   They focused primarily on defensive strategies, but still had practice fights where Percy pretended to die dramatically.  

“I don’t think this is a good idea Percy,” Sally had said after they broke their second lamp.

“Mom she can see them. And as long as I’m around Stella will always be a target.”  

There was an unspoken promise in his words.  I’m always going to be here Mom.  I’m still alive, but I can’t lose anyone else, especially not my baby sister.  

Estelle hugged her mother’s leg tightly, looking up with pleading eyes.   “Please Mom I’ll be careful.”    

Eventually, Paul signed Estelle up for fencing lessons because there had to be a better way to teach her to fight that didn’t involve the two of them wrecking the living room every time Percy visited.  And if the way, allowed Paul to share his old fencing passion with his daughter, all the better.  The living room still ended up with the furniture pushed to the side on a regular basis though because Estelle needed to demonstrate everything she’d learned for her big brother.  

When Tyson had come to her sixth birthday party, his present had been a small bronze sword that transformed into a charm bracelet so Estelle could always be prepared.  He’d look so proud and Estelle kept touching it reverently, but Sally had not been amused.  She had wanted her daughter to grow up safe from this madness, even if she knew that wasn’t entirely a possibility.   It was bad enough to have one child constantly in mortal peril and disappearing on dangerous quests.  

“It can’t even hurt her; it’s celestial bronze.  The first time I met Rachel I ran her through with Riptide and she’s still fine.”  

Rachel flicked her red curls over her shoulder.  “Worried for your sanity, but physically fine.”  

Neither of them was as reassuring as they thought, but Estelle did get to keep the sword for emergency use only.  This was after all a world full of monsters as well as heroes.

[cycat4077]

Teacher, Teacher, Can You Teach Me?

Summary: You help Sonny study for the bar. That's it. That's the fic. (Takes place between 17x15 “Collateral Damages” and 17x16 “Star-Struck Victims”) Pairing: Sonny x Reader (who is a teacher) Warnings: nope Words: 1046 AO3 here

Part 5 of the Changes verse (though it’s pretty stand alone if a series isn’t your thing).

(Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4)

"I don't wanna!" pouts Sonny as he lays sprawled out across his couch. His long legs drape over the edge and a hand lies over-top his full belly. The two of you just finished wolfing down a "luxurious" take-out lunch for two.

"But you gotta!" you scold from the opposite end of the sofa. "The exam starts tomorrow morning bright and early and this is your last chance to study beforehand."

His response is a mere grumbly whine paired with a face contorted in protest.

"Come on," you coax tapping Sonny's leg, encouraging him to get up.

"No," he closes his eyes and turns his head away like a toddler.

"Dominick Carisi. You need to study! You haven't trudged through night school while working doubles to not give it one last push now." You fold your arms together and stare him down.

Sonny shakes his head defiantly.

"Okay, then. I'll leave." You shift as if you're about to get up.

"Yourra meany!" he groans.

"Bye," you state, continuing to fake standing up. You hope it calls his bluff.

Sonny shoots forward. "Noo! Don't leave me! I'll study! I'll study!"

You smile victoriously. "C'mon then, my future-lawyer boyfriend. I'll help you." Waving him over coaxes Sonny to follow as you cross the apartment towards his kitchen.

Like any student without a designated desk space, the dining room table is littered with law books and papers. Sonny rolls up the sleeves of his grey henley and you both sit down to delve in. "Can ya quiz me on somma this stuff?" he asks, handing you his handwritten notes and the list of bar exam topics.

Accepting the papers, you begin with the first term highlighted. Sonny stumbles out an answer, ending it with an inflection. Clearly, he's unsure of himself.

You read out the correct response which causes Sonny to dip his head in defeat. "Hey, now," you comfort. "Don't get discouraged." Then an idea strikes you. "How about this?" You hand him back his work, resulting in a quizzical look from your boyfriend. "Here. Use your notes if you want, but go through everything you've learned using me as your student. Teach me!" you smile warmly and fold your hands on the table in front of you.

Sonny cocks his head, purses his lips and narrows his eyes in contemplation. "Alright," he says eagerly, accepting your challenge.

You listen intently and even ask questions to get Sonny to clarify what he's explaining to you. The study session goes on for hours and the two of you tick off the exam topics one by one. While your head does spin from all the legal jargon, you suck it up to keep Sonny’s momentum going. He's expressive and engaged, proudly walking you through the material and bringing together all the knowledge he's acquired from his classes.

It's late evening by the time Sonny's “lecture” is over. "Well, I'm pooped," he says reaching for a glass of water to soothe his dry throat. "You must be exhausted too, doll."

"It's all good," you tap his arm. "I hope it was useful for you."

"We'll see tomorrow," he winks. "That'll be the real moment of truth…" But Sonny isn't brimming with the confidence you're used to seeing from him.

"Sonny," you utter, "you just have to do your best. That's all anyone can expect from you and that's all you can expect from yourself." You rest a hand on his arm and rub soothingly over his exposed skin. He peers at you with nervous eyes. "And if you don't pass this time around, you take it again." Sonny nods in understanding. "This is your dream and I know you won't quit until you succeed." You then lean in and press your lips to his, hoping to convey just how much faith you have in him. He pulls you into a hug and squeezes. He knows.

That night the two of you snuggle closely under Sonny's covers. A combined total of six alarms wait to guarantee Sonny’s timely arrival.

-x-

"You gotta call me once today's sessions are over," you tell him the next morning before you both leave.

"It could end up bein’ late, though," he counters, wringing his hands nervously.

"Doesn't matter," you assure him. You lean in to give him a kiss goodbye before wishing him good luck.

That night you get a call and on the other end a tired-sounding Sonny tells you that he thinks he did okay. The day after that you get a similar call. "It's over! I'm done!" he cheers. "I'm so relieved! I think it went well, but that's upta the state now."

"I think you did just great!" you remark happily. That exuberant spirit has returned to Sonny’s voice and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

"Say, all that brain powa has made me hungry. You up for some dinner?"

"When have you known me to say no to food?" you tease.

Sonny laughs. "Good point! Y'know, I kinda skipped out on Valentine's day 'cause a work, and takeout the other day was hardly a substitute."

Though a fancy Valentine's day was by no means essential to you, a dinner out with Sonny is never something you would refuse. The two of you meet at a restaurant and the moment you see Sonny, you leap into his arms to shower him in praises. He catches you with a surprised look before nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, holding you close. Does it make a bit of a scene? Maybe, but you couldn't care less.

"I had the best teacher," he says setting you down and giving you an affectionate nudge.

"Woah, wait a minute! Don't forget that you were the one that taught me!" you counter, cleverly.

Sonny chuckles. "Whateva, you're still the one to suggest studyin' that way and then sit there ‘n listen to me yap on. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Sonny," you say, heart swelling proudly. "Anytime."

Two months later you would have more celebrating to do. Sonny's hard work and dedication, something you admire so deeply about him, would finally pay off. You would get to share in his excitement when he comes home to tell you that he passed the New York State bar exam.

~~~

Fun Facts about the NY State Bar Exam:

The exam is always given on the last Tuesday/Wednesday of each year. For 2016 that would have been Feb 23rd/24th.

However, according to SVU Sonny takes his exam a week before the day he talks to Barba about it. (So, Feb 16th/17th – a TV goof.)

The bar exam is a two-day affair with Day 1 being 3hrs in the morning (2 performance tests) and 3hrs in the afternoon (6 essay questions). Day 2 is divided up into the same time slots, but with 100 mcq in the morning and another 100 in the afternoon.

Morning sessions are 9:30-12:30 and afternoon sessions are 2:00-5:00.

Also according to SVU, Sonny finds out he passed the bar on April 15th 2016. Usually they are posted at the end of April or early May. But once again, Sonny is lucky and gets the results early too!

Feedback is loved (especially since I’m cheating on my own academic work by posting this...oops) and the next thing I want write about is “Sheltered Outcasts” and Sonny’s big UC gig :)

Part 6 here!