#barring dropping dead i wish you a very Get Blocked and also Go To Hell

[boasamishipper]

this may sound harsh but if you refer to the posters with pictures of the israelis kidnapped by hamas on 10/7 as ~zionist propaganda~ and/or deface or tear them down, i think you are a despicable human being and i hope you drop dead

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

In your latest post, you said that Dumbledore MEANT to put Harry in a abusive household. That, or when he found out he did nothing to stop it. Why is that?

You’re going to get a lot of people angry with me. Well, I suppose they’re already angry. Somewhere out there, on the wider internet.

Right, anyway, the evidence of Harry’s abuse is so overwhelming that it seems improbable to me that Dumbledore wasn’t aware of what was happening. More, every interaction he has with not only Harry, but characters in similar circumstances, lends me to believe that in the event that Dumbledore does know he’d take no action.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: Scene 1

We start out the entire Harry Potter series with Minerva and Dumbledore waiting in the early dawn for Hagrid’s arrival and to place Harry with the Dursleys. Minerva immediately announces her discomfort with this, 

She specifically says the following:

"You don't mean — you can't mean the people who live here? Dumbledore, you can't. You couldn't find two people who are less like us."

Lily Evans’ relatives are infamous enough such that Minerva McGonagall, who is presumably not as close as her like aged peers (i.e. Sirius, Remus, and Peter) knows about them.

Granted, some of this is anti-muggle sentiment. Minerva isn’t sure that suburban muggles raising a magical child like Harry Potter is a good idea. Nevertheless, she has deep misgivings, and relays them to Dumbledore.

We know from further evidence that Dumbledore is perfectly aware of what Petunia and Vernon are like as well. He gives Harry to the Dursleys anyway.

Dumbledore, for his own reasons, chooses not to listen.

Dumbledore’s Letter to Petunia

Dumbledore writes a letter to Petunia, knowing it is highly necessary, as he gives Harry to the family. The letter is... vaguely threatening but in a very polite Dumbledore way. It pretty much implies “Take Harry, or else, also be nice to your dead sister.”

The point is, Dumbledore is aware that this letter is highly necessary. And then... other things happen.

Dumbledore Sends Hagrid

Dumbledore sends Hagrid to pick Harry up.

Ordinarily, in such circumstances, Minerva is sent to introduce muggleborn children to the Wizarding World. “Perhaps she was busy,” you say, too busy for Harry Potter? Wizard Jesus and the child of perhaps her favorite students who she openly favors throughout the series?

“Perhaps Dumbledore was being nice to Hagrid, and he had an errand to do anyway,” well, it’s all well and good to be nice to Hagrid, but is he really the best guy to introduce anybody to the Wizarding World?

This is Hagrid, the likelihood of him having taken Harry to an exotic pet shop where Harry then gets eaten by the Chupacabra is 95%. The 5% where it didn’t happen is because Hagrid went to the pet shop alone and some, distant, rational part of his brain told him that Harry would want the pretty owl vs. the one-eyed blood sucking rat demon in the cage next to her.

You don’t send Hagrid if you want a child returned to you with all its limbs intact.

So why do you send Hagrid?

When you want someone who’s so painfully oblivious, loyal, and stupid that they could stare a hellscape in the face and wouldn’t even notice.

Hagrid gets a firsthand view of Harry’s living conditions. He learns that Harry’s relatives have been actively blocking Harry’s letters, that they have run across the country to avoid them. He sees the state of Harry’s clothing in comparison to Dudley, how thin Harry is in comparison to Dudley, and the way the family interacts with each other.

Harry’s child abuse is staring Hagrid right in the face.

Minerva would demand that Harry be placed somewhere else, they can find some other means of protecting him.

What does Hagrid do?

He gives Dudley a pig’s tail illegally and proceeds to tell Harry that Dumbledore is the greatest man who ever lived. 

Other Evidence Comes to Light

Other characters start getting pretty big warning signs that all’s not right at the Potters.

Ron and Hermione know the situation is “bad” and that Harry’s relatives “hate magic”. They’re also kids and don’t really understand what this means, the idea of being abused and hated by your guardians is unthinkable to them and Harry doesn’t come out and just say it.

That said, they’ve seen enough that they drop hints to those around them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are told about the bars on Harry’s window. Ron was so concerned about Harry in the summer after first year that he steals his father’s car with Fred and George to go pick him up. That is not normal behavior, that is deep concern for your friend.

Despite all of this... nothing happens.

Hermione spends far more time at the Weasleys then Harry ever does. Every summer, he returns to Privet Drive, and it’s likely if Arthur and Molly did have concerns Dumbledore told them off.

Arabella Figg

Arabella has been keeping an eye on Harry for years. She’s noted some very disturbing trends and been witness to years of the Dursleys interacting with Harry Potter.

She passes this information on to Dumbledore.

He knows how bad it is.

Harry Potter

Harry tells Dumbledore he does not wish to remain at the Dursleys, he notes that they don’t like him and he doesn’t like them. Now, he tries to downplay it, but this is a child saying some pretty disturbing things. You don’t brush this off.

Dumbledore does.

Dumbledore Visits the Dursleys

In book 6, Dumbledore visits the Dursleys and sees, in person, how bad it is. However, he shows no surprise, only vague disappointment in Petunia. Tsk, tsk, Petunia, I thought you were better than this.

He offers a few threats and then he and Harry go on their merry way.

Severus Snape

Snape is Dumbledore’s spy who reads Harry’s mind for half a year. Granted, Snape is a bastard who loathes Harry Potter, but he sees evidence of the Dursleys abuse of Harry.

We know, from what he relays to Dumbledore later, that he had at least some concern for Harry and was very disturbed by Dumbledore’s plan to murder him in cold blood due to the horcrux.

I think it’s very likely Severus Snape knew and told Dumbledore that Harry was being abused. I’m sure Albus’ response was, “Bitch, I know, would you like a lemon drop?”

Point being, there is no conceivable way that Albus Dumbledore, even if he was the world’s dumbest man, didn’t know exactly how bad it was. He let’s it happen anyway.

But What About the Blood Wards?

Dumbledore eventually tells Harry that the reason he can’t run away from Privet Drive is because of the blood wards created by his mother. They can only be applied if he lives with blood relatives and protect the Dursley house as long as Harry considers it home.

Now, this is a bit suspect given that Harry really considers Hogwarts his home, Privet Drive is just that hell hole he has to go back to every summer. Even the Burrow is more his home than Privet Drive so... That doesn’t sound right.

More, though, there are other means of protection.

There’s the Fidelius which Dumbledore casts on Sirius’ house in book 5. Given that, Harry really could have lived with Sirius (well, Sirius is not in a good place to have a kid around and that would be a disaster and a half). Point being, Harry could be raised elsewhere and there are wards that could protect him.

More, Voldemort and the Death Eaters are out of commission for thirteen years. Indeed, we see Dumbledore up Harry’s security detail by secretly assigning the Order to tail him after fourth year.

So, for a very long time, it’s not about Harry’s protection and when it does become that we see Dumbledore make significant changes.

So, what could it be?

Well, let’s look at Dumbledore’s other actions. Dumbledore prevents Harry from becoming prefect because “he thought it would go to his head”. Which, Harry should absolutely not be made prefect at all, and Ron’s a laughable candidate too but...

To me that’s very telling.

I hate to say this, but this is Dumbledore, but I think he has a very similar reasoning behind Harry going to the Dursleys.

He doesn’t want Harry to be corrupted by the Boy Who Lived persona. He wants him in a certain state of mind when he enters into the wizarding world and... Frankly, he wants him vulnerable. Dumbledore, in time, will need to either murder this boy or have him kill himself. If Harry has a halfway decent guardian, that task becomes a hell of a lot harder.

Harry has to love the wizarding world so much, trust Dumbledore so much, that these things are worth dying for.

You Mentioned Something About Dumbledore’s Other Actions?

Dumbledore has no sympathy for victims of child abuse.

Tom Riddle, an impoverished orphan loathed by those in his orphanage, he thinks is the very devil and sends him back into the Blitz with a smile and a wave. Enjoy the bombs, Tom, hope you die.

Severus Snape, the half blood child of an abusive muggle father and absentee mother, who is nearly murdered by Sirius Black via Remus Lupin, is told to shut the fuck up and sit down before he ruins the lives of his betters.

Dumbledore has a very bad track record with this and, well, Harry Potter is not an exception.

To be fair, I think the wizarding world has not concept of CPS or even child abuse. There’s no hint of a foster system, you go to the closest relative of the godparents. So, I think to them, you’re stuck with whoever you’re stuck with and if your uncle rapes you then it sucks to be you.

[mythicamagic]

Enemies to Lovers - Sesshoumaru is injured - "Lean on me" prompt

AN: Because there’s a lot of prompts to get through I probably should have/could have spent more time on this one due to the heavy subject matter buuut since in the anime Sesshoumaru only gets 11 episodes to recover from the loss of his arm, I don’t feel too guilty XD

Warning: body trauma

---

Inuyasha's wench had found him around an hour ago. Unlike Rin, she'd deliberated approaching for a few moments. Unsurprising. They were still foes after all. Crimson eyes remained burning, glaring listlessly at her face.

She'd seemed to silently decide something, determination steeling her expression. The yellow nekomata he vaguely recalled belonging to the slayer was her sole companion, who growled at him warningly not to try anything. As if he would.

The miko carried a large cumbersome bag, so he assumed she'd been headed somewhere before running into him within the forest.

Kagome cleaned his wound as best she could, before binding it to try and stop the excessive blood loss. She'd then approached with the beast, proceeding to kneel beside his bloody form. Sesshoumaru remained where he was, reclined against a tree and settled at its base.

Kagome winced, arm secured around his waist after having removed his armour.

"I can't just leave you like this. Lean on me. I'll take your weight enough to move you onto Kirara."

Sesshoumaru turned his head, gazing at nothing.

His lips moved, speaking too softly for her to hear.

"What?"

He repeated himself in a tight voice. "What is the point?"

Kagome stiffened against him. Her heart thudded quicker, fear brushing his senses.

Sesshoumaru allowed his hazy red eyes to dull into empty gold, staring right at the woman.

He could survive a missing arm. Had adjusted his fighting style enough to manage.

But the Killing Perfection could not survive the loss of a leg too. His body would save him from blood loss, but his spirit lay broken, irreparable.

Kagome swallowed loudly, resting a hand on his upper thigh. His leg ended below the knee.

"T-this… it's nothing for you," she mumbled quietly. "You're going to be okay. You'll find a way to walk again."

Sesshoumaru chuckled dryly, resting his head back against the trunk. "Why do you care, wench?" he flashed sharp teeth at her. "We are not allies. Leave me."

"I won't," Kagome moved closer, grabbing a handful of his hankimono. "Listen, I might not be your friend and you've tried to kill Inuyasha more than a few times, but…" her hand shook. "But you're the strongest person I've met. If you fall, then what hope do the rest of us have?" she questioned softly. "Despite myself, I admire people like you and Kikyo. Always so crazy strong."

Sesshoumaru scoffed, gripping her hard by the hair and forcing her head down to look at the stump of his right leg. "Do I look strong to you, miko?" he hissed in her ear.

Kagome braced her hands on his available leg, twisting in his grip to look at him.

Sesshoumaru stilled.

Unshed tears lay in her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered with conviction. "So long as you don't give up now."

Sesshoumaru stared. Inky black hair slowly fell limp around his fingers. He settled back against the tree.

Kagome straightened, winding an arm around his waist again. "At least come with me to find shelter. You can't stay like this out in the open."

Sesshoumaru remained dead weight. He did not see the point in trying.

He could not hope to recover from this.

Kagome tugged and heaved at his body, his mass much too big for her to hope to move.

She sighed with frustration, blowing air at her bangs. "I'll tell Inuyasha about this," she grumbled.

Sesshoumaru blinked, sliding his gaze back to her. "I would kill you before you managed to leave."

Kagome smiled a little, patting his shoulder. "That's better. You look a bit more like yourself when you're threatening someone."

He wanted to snap at her. To snarl and bite the soft looking skin of her neck, frighten her enough to leave.

He was tired. A part of him felt content to die after his pride lay in such shattered tiny pieces.

And yet…

And yet a part of him, instinctive, strong and indomitable, refused to lay down and perish. It appreciated her continued efforts.

The thought of him hobbling about so pathetically was almost too much to bear, but Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, realising very wretchedly that this meant he did not in fact wish to die.

"We can do this," Kagome was muttering, trying to angle him enough to lay on Kirara, who pressed in close, offering assistance.

Sesshoumaru stifled a sigh, making a silent choice. He begrudgingly leaned against her, shifting his remaining leg beneath him.

Kagome gasped, "that's it!" she encouraged, helping him into a crouching position before he fell forward onto the beast. Kagome adjusted his leg, ensuring he was steady, before nodding for Kirara to stand.

Sesshoumaru did not pay attention to their surroundings, the forest passing in a blur.

If he'd just been quicker, the bull demon who had humiliated him would have perished sooner. The beast had produced a second weapon out of thin air, axe cleaving through muscle and bone. All he could do was pull back- lest he lose his entire lower half.

He felt no pain. Surprisingly, everything remained numb. His flesh was cold and clammy, and he lay as if outside of his own body.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, lapsing into unconsciousness.

---

The scent of rain stirred his senses.

Sesshoumaru turned his head, finding himself laying down upon a strange futon that resembled a squashed cocoon. The nekomata lay behind him, keeping him warm.

Sesshoumaru blinked. The miko had found them shelter. He soon located her sitting at the mouth of the cave, looking out at the rain while a fire lay in the centre of the cool space.

When she noticed he’d regained consciousness, Kagome rose and offered some water from her strange water container.

She’d changed clothes, donning more unusual clothing Sesshoumaru was unfamiliar with. Her pants clung to her form distractingly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, hovering close.

He tsked, passing back the water after taking a swig. “Like I have one leg and one arm. How do you think I am feeling, mortal?”

She winced, “shitty.”

“Indeed,” Sesshoumaru lay back down, staring at the cave ceiling soberly.

“Do you want something to eat?” a crunchy noise rustled from her pocket as the woman produced a rectangular bar of some kind.

He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice, eyeing a picture of the food on its strange packaging. “What is it?”

“A peanut butter and chocolate energy bar,” Kagome winced. “Look I don’t know how to hunt-” he scoffed, “-so this is the best I’ve got. Sorry, your Highness.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you may keep it. I do not eat human food. Least of all bizarre creations such as that.”

“Fine but it's your loss.”

His expression became blank, noticing her wince and start apologising for the wording. He wasn’t listening anymore though. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, and now he was more than painfully aware of the shooting pains running up and down the remainder of his leg, from stump to upper thigh. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, refusing to show his discomfort.

“...You’ve used a human arm before,” Kagome said carefully, sitting beside him and crossing her legs. “And what looked like a dragon one. By that logic, you could attach a demon leg to yours, right?”

Sesshoumaru slid his gaze to her, silently thankful for the distraction. The coming agony would be something he’d already dealt with due to the loss of his arm. Phantom limb pain was a real bitch.

“Yes,” he managed, before taking a steadying breath. He managed to arrange his features into something smirking and lofty. “Are you implying you will fetch me a new limb, little miko? How very generous.”

Kagome’s eyes turned flat. “I’m not about to go out and lop off some poor demon’s foot just to help you. But...if…” she said slowly, “if I’m attacked- which happens often because of the jewel shards- maybe I’d…”

Sesshoumaru dropped his smug expression, frowning softly.

The rain continued to pour, pelting the ground hard. It was a sobering reminder that if she’d left him to the mercy of the elements, he’d be in a much worse state.

He ran careful attention over her features. “Why?”

Kagome’s deep blue eyes held his probing stare, not a flicker of deceit in them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “things can’t go back to normal for you right away- or at least, they shouldn’t. You should take the time to recover. I don’t know how the hell you managed to come after us so quickly after losing your arm. It likely wasn’t healthy for you.”

He arched a brow. Repressing every single fibre of the experience and any feelings about the fate that had befallen his left arm had worked wonders for his recovery. Granted it made sleep difficult at times, but none had ever had the audacity to lecture him about his decisions before.

“But- I also don’t want you to be vulnerable to attacks or starvation,” Kagome kept rambling. “Giving you a leg won’t solve everything but it’ll help- ah, are you burning up?” she noticed a bead of sweat roll down his temple, reaching out automatically.

Sesshoumaru snatched it mid-air, pushing up with a burst of speed and yanking Kagome down, simultaneously rolling atop her. Her back hit the ground, punctuated with a squeak from her startled lips.

Silver hair hung down, creating a curtain that blocked out the rest of the world. Those blue eyes widened, breath hitching. Their lower halves pressed intimately together, stomachs meeting as Sesshoumaru leaned closer, using his hand to brace his weight above her. A fire burned within the back of his throat, ancient, tattered pride stinging. He found that he resented her slightly. Resented her for seeing him so weak. It hadn’t mattered when Rin had found him wounded. A battered child had no relation to him. But this girl, Kagome- was an enemy. She should not have seen him thus.

“Do I seem so very vulnerable to you?” he asked in a hushed voice, mouth inches from hers. The fire crackled, rain pouring. Her breathing sounded a touch quicker, heartbeat loud in his ears. Drumming.

Against all logic, he felt her body relax beneath his. She even smiled a little, “no,” she muttered.

“Is something amusing?”

“I’m just glad you proved me wrong. I’d rather you kept acting like a jerk than look so...defeated like you did earlier,” Kagome gave a nervous giggle, gesturing between them, “uh...if you could let me up now though that would be great.”

She tried to rise, but he let more of his weight sink down upon her soft, warm body. “No, I do not think I will.”

Kagome gasped, drawing a knee up and inadvertently opening her legs, allowing him to fit snugly against her. If he hadn’t lost a limb several hours earlier that same day and wasn’t experiencing agonising, blinding pain, Sesshoumaru had to say, the feeling was enough to make him...consider something previously thought impossible between himself and humans.

As it was, he hissed a breath through grit teeth, the stump licking phantom flames of blazing fire around the wound.

“Sesshoumaru? Sesshoumaru!”

He shuddered, trying to prevent himself from crushing her beneath his weight, arm shaking.

It hurt. It suddenly hurt like hell- and nothing was working. No distraction could take him from the blistering, lonely, maddening sensation that holy fuck his leg was missing. He wanted to do something as meaningless as wriggle his toes and he could not-

Suddenly, her arms were around him. Pleasant fresh scents assaulted his fractured senses, citrusy and clean. Kagome pulled him down while rolling herself, flipping their positions.

“I don’t have anything for the pain,” her voice strained apologetically. She quickly moved off him, but Sesshoumaru wasn’t paying attention anymore. He panted, temples pounding. His body shook, pain shooting through the nerve endings in the remainder of his leg.

Something cold and wet lay over his marked forehead. Cracking the burning suns of pained golden eyes open, he watched Kagome adjust the cold compress, before checking his leg.

“You heal quick, but you need new bandages. M-maybe that’ll help until I can go home for painkillers,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and digging through it.

Sesshoumaru panted softly, seizing the fretting miko’s wrist.

“Your...scent,” he grunted.

“What?”

If he were sober he’d never request something so undignified, but Sesshoumaru kept talking, somewhat delirious now that all sense of shock had worn off. “Come here...again. I want your scent.”

Kagome’s shocked features were lost to him as the Daiyoukai hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

The scent of citrus returned after a moment. Soft, curling locks of dark hair brushed his nose as Kagome gingerly embraced him.

Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm around her shoulders, burying his face into the black fall of citrus-scented strands. He lost himself to instinct, gripping onto the stable, pleasant sensations that took the form of Inuyasha’s wench. She let out a tense breath but soon relaxed against him, verbally assuring Kirara when the nekomata growled.

For the second time that day, Sesshoumaru unwillingly lost the battle for consciousness.

----

She was gone by the time he awoke in the morning, but the nekomata remained. She growled and hissed softly whenever he looked at the beast for longer than necessary. Kagome left a note, explaining that she’d be back soon.

Sesshoumaru had little to do except wait. The pain had become a continuous throb, which was easier to deal with but equally as irritating, exhausting him.

When Kagome returned several hours later, she produced wrapped pieces of cooked chicken from her bag, cheerfully explaining that she’d returned home. Sesshoumaru turned his nose up slightly at the food.

“I would have preferred the bird...raw.”

“Wait like freshly dead?”

“Alive, favourably.”

Kagome gaped, leaving the lunchbox with him. “That's terrible!”

Sesshoumaru stared at her flatly, opening his mouth and drawing out his tongue, transforming his features into something more monstrous and canine while placing the food into his mouth and eating it in one quick snap of his jaws. “Demon,” he muttered pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and let him finish his meal in peace.

---

They fell into an odd routine of planned visits for several days, talking about the strange things she brought back from home. He came to learn she was from the Future, of all places. They discussed its advanced technologies while she bandaged his leg.

He suspected the miko felt some sense of responsibility for him now. The thought set his teeth on edge, mildly humiliated.

When he brought up the subject of his vassal, ward and steed, Kagome shrugged and told him they’d been accepted into Inuyasha’s group for the time being. They worried about his continued absence and Inuyasha complained about having to share a space with Jaken, but bared with it. Not one person knew about his situation except Kagome, for which he was thankful.

By the end of five days though, Sesshoumaru needed to move. He began by pulling himself along the ground via his hand and knee, which proved awkward but not impossible. Next came standing, which- after many failed attempts- he finally managed to do, gripping onto the cave wall.

Walking was impossible, of course. And by the time Sesshoumaru realised the very sobering truth that he’d have to hop everywhere the rest of his life or walk with the use of a cane or crutch unless he could grab a demon leg- he wondered why he’d bothered moving at all.

“You’re standing!”

Dulled golden eyes slid to the miko, who stood at the mouth of the cave. In her arms was a large sack faintly marred with blood, and he could tell from the wrinkle of her nose exactly what it was. Surprise slammed into his gut.

“Miko-”

Kagome set the bundle down, hurrying over and steadying him when he tipped too much to one side. “Are you alright? You should be resting-”

“Give me the leg, miko.”

Kagome fell silent, eyeing his stump. He’d stopped needing bandages two days ago. She didn’t protest, merely looking at him carefully. “Are you sure?”

Sesshoumaru leaned against her, allowing her to help ease him down into a sitting position. He briefly touched her cheek, gliding a thumb there and watching it redden. His heart thudded with gladness. “I am sure.”

She nodded, soon bringing the bloodied sack over. She explained that he’d gotten lucky, as while the first two demons they’d faced in a group of three had been too large and bulky to fit his build, the third had been smaller. Inuyasha had been extremely disturbed and suspicious when she’d asked him to hack their leg off once all three were dead.

“It’s not been easy, avoiding his questions, you know. He’s tried to follow me here more than once. I managed to convince him that this leg was for my weird Grandpa.”

Sesshoumaru blinked, finding himself watching her instead of studying the leg as it was revealed to him. The miko had been astronomically helpful and considerate in all the ways one could to a demon lord. His chest felt strange. Warm, upon realising the extent of her actions for his sake.

“Well, do you like it?”

Sesshoumaru jolted, focusing on the red-scaled leg laying before him. From its scent, he knew it to be from a lizard demon. Not his first choice, but this was no time to be picky. Sesshoumaru grabbed it and pressed the severed end to his stump after aligning it. He didn’t so much as flinch as muscle and bone wove together, the process over in seconds. Kagome gaped with amazement.

When he moved to stand, she quickly assisted, pulling him to his feet. Sesshoumaru took a step and staggered, looking downwards.

Ah.

Kagome’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. Oh no...it's too short isn’t it?”

The height was off by a few inches.

He made to reply- before stiffening, scenting salt. “Why are you crying about it, foolish woman?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she waved it off, some tears escaping down her cheeks before she roughly brushed them away. “I just wanted it to be perfect but now you’re kind of...tilted.”

Despite the situation, a smile tugged at his mouth. A noise bubbled up from the back of his throat, escaping as a quiet laugh.

Kagome froze, tears clinging to her lashes.

“It is fine, miko. More than...fine.”

Sesshoumaru held onto the wall for support, feeling the bite of putting weight onto the leg, his stump flaring. It would take time for his body to adjust. Despite this, his warrior heart filled with purpose again, powers working to heal him. Just having the ability to walk after having it stolen away renewed his spirits.

Kagome watched him with a smile, occasionally offering aid but largely keeping her hands off. He could sense various soft emotions rolling off her in waves. Admiration, relief and something else. Something he could not name. It remained untouched and unnamed long after he left the cave behind one afternoon.

He had no writing utensils to leave a note, instead carefully tearing out a segment of his sleeve, leaving the red and white flower symbol of his family crest for her to find.

---

Kagome panted hard, catching her breath and folding down into a crouch, gripping her bow tight.

“Are you alright, Kagome?” Rin asked, closely followed by Shippo as they approached from Ah-Un, having kept away from the random attack on the village. Thankfully the hoard of boar demons had finally been dealt with, but Kagome’s nerves were shot to hell after racing around so much, trying to protect villagers.

“I-I’m fine, guys, thanks,” she smiled, looking between them both. The orphans had bonded quickly, and she felt a surge of warmth, happy they had a companion their age to talk with. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen Sesshoumaru since his disappearance, and while she loved having Rin around, it did make her worry. Sesshoumaru always returned to his group. Where had he run off too?

Maybe he went to find a better leg, she thought, taking the children’s hands and walking towards Miroku- who was helping up an old man from where he’d fallen. Perhaps he needed time to get used to walking on what’s essentially a prosthetic.

For humans- such a thing took up to one year. Demons really are something else.

Kagome’s lips curved, picturing the burning, determined gaze of the Daiyoukai.

Or rather, Sesshoumaru is something else.

“Kagome, look out!” Miroku yelled.

Jerking, Kagome sensed a lone boar youkai barrelling towards her through the forest, knocking trees aside. It was quicker than anticipated- and despite Kagome grabbing the children and trying to run out of its way, it charged straight for her, grunting, throwing its head wildly.

People were screaming her name, but they were too far away. Kagome twisted her body, pushing the kids aside and in order for her to take the brunt of the hit-

Red light exploded to life, consuming the boar demon before it could reach them. Hide and blood were caught up in the attack, leaving Kagome mercifully free from the boar's flying carnage.

She panted, shaking a little and gazing at the steaming remains of the demon. A pale figure floated to the ground, landing elegantly.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” Rin cried happily.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?!” Jaken’s distant yell could be heard.

Kagome straightened, heart doing a funny thing in her chest. She immediately looked at his leg- finding him clad in white hakama pants and black boots. The same as always.

Blue eyes widened. He appeared completely unchanged. Somehow, he must’ve found an inhuman demon and took their leg so that he could masquerade as his usual self.

His tiny group circled around him joyously, while Kagome’s friends gathered together a little ways away. Inuyasha’s ears pinned back to his head with displeasure.

Jaken hopped up and down. “Where have you BEEN, mi lord!”

“Nowhere."

“Tch, bastard,” grumbling, Inuyasha raised his voice a touch. “Hey- you could at least thank us for babysitting your damn group while you were probably out doing power-hungry shit.”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slid over the Hanyou dismissively, stopping on Kagome. Her breathing hitched.

“I am not here to thank you, Inuyasha.”

Kagome remained frozen as a shadow fell over her face, his head of silver hair blocking out the sun. Golden eyes replaced the burning circle in the sky, blazing and intent. Slit pupils pinned her in place.

She was vaguely aware of her friends exclaiming in surprise and alarm, thinking he meant to harm her. The sound of Inuyasha drawing his sword was enough to make her mutter ‘sit boy’ absentmindedly, paying no attention to his subsequent impact with the ground.

Sesshoumaru raised a hand, resting pale knuckles against her cheek in a slow drag down to her jaw, skin cool, clashing against her warmth. White lashes lowered, becoming half-mast.

“You’re okay?” she breathed.

“Hn, I merely needed some time,” Sesshoumaru’s low rumble melted her insides.

She cleared her throat, cheeks tinging red because of his proximity, his dark youki brushing her senses, his touch- his everything. Reaching into her pocket, she produced the segment of his clothing, the pattern of his clan. “Did you want this back-?”

“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over it, catching her eye. “You have my loyalty for what you have done for this one, miko. Keep it,” he said softer.

Kagome nodded slowly, opening her mouth to ask more-

Firm lips slanted over her own. Stiffening, she became deaf to her friend’s even louder exclamations of surprise, Miroku quietly voicing his awe, impressed.

The miko inhaled sharply through her nose, feeling Sesshoumaru’s mouth move, brushing against her own in several lingering kisses. Blushing, it took a moment for Kagome to get over her stupefaction. But then she pressed a little closer, kissing him back perhaps a little nonsensically. But it felt right. Her toes curled at the feel of him.

A low groan rumbled in his throat and his lips softened against hers, mouth parting to brush his sinuous tongue against hers.

Kagome shivered and wondered if he could hear how her heart hammered in her chest. His palm felt steady upon her back, arm encircling her waist. When they finally pulled away, their lips lingered close.

“What...what was that?” she breathed, cheeks flushed.

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked, “that was this Sesshoumaru conveying my deep sense of gratitude, miko.”

“Funny way of thanking someone, but I’ll take it,” Kagome’s eyes glittered. She could think about the consequences of such an action later. For now, she was content to hold his gaze and keep his secret safe- for however long the prideful Daiyoukai needed.

[jawritter]

Save Me

Summary: It’s hard to be the hero, especially when no one saves you. 

Warnings: Cannon level Dean Winchester depression. Mentions and hints of drug use, Alcohol abuse and excessive drinking, language, self loathing, maybe a hint of jealous!Dean? Dean’s in a very dark place in this fic, and it’s a tear jerker. 

Paring: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2013

A/N: This fic was based on the song Save Me, by Jelly Roll. The lyrics are in Italics. This fic was also beta’d by @miss-nerd95! Thanks so much hun! Please do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one! 

Want More? Check my Masterlist!!! Want even more? Become a patreon, and as little for two dollars a month you can get exclusive fics first!!

**MASTERLIST**       ***BECOME A PATREON***

Somebody save me Me from myself I've spent so long Living in hell

Dean twisted the cap off of another bottle and downed the contents of the warm alcohol quick enough to make himself a little tipsy, and that alone felt like an accomplishment. He could hear Elieen and Sam in the room just down the hall from him, and honestly, it made him sick. 

It wasn't  that he disliked Elieen. In fact, he was the one that told Sam to go for it. She knew what they did, understood their lifestyle because she herself was a hunter and if Sam had a chance at being happy, who was he to tell him otherwise. It was more than Dean himself felt he’d ever have, or even deserve. 

He supposed this was the price of being the 'hero'. The guy who saved everyone's  ass. Why couldn't he be the one getting saved for once?

Eileen’s laughter cut through the silence  of the Bunker and drifted into Dean’s room where he pulled the covers up over his head to try and block  the sound. 

He was tired of living this way, but once he got drunk enough to not feel the lonely ache in his chest, he guessed it would stop mattering then. Then he could carry on with this shit-storm of a life he’d been reduced too. People thought Hell was lonely, turns out it was pretty much the same topside too.

They say my lifestyle is bad for my health It's the only thing that seems to help All of this drinking and smoking is hopeless but feel like it's all that I need Something inside of me is broken, I hold onto anything that sets me free

“Dean, you're getting too old to drink like that, man,” Sam said from his side of the table in the library where he and Eileen had taken up residence to look for another hunt. Dean hoped they’d fucking find one because he was tired of sitting here looking at them and just twiddle  his thumbs.

His liver desperately wanted him to find something to do with himself as well, not just keep on damaging it, and seemed to be screaming at him pretty loud this morning. 

“I’m fine, Sam. I quit the hard stuff a long time ago. I just need some sleep. Come get me if you guys come up with a hunt.” 

He got up and slid the chair back with more force than needed, but he hated it when Sam tried to butt in his life and tell him what he should and shouldn’t be doing. It’s easy to say shit like that when you don’t have to wake up to a cold bed every morning. 

Dean was just like everyone else. He craved companionship that didn’t come from some one night stand he picked up at a bar. He wanted a family, hell, he wanted to have kids someday. There goes that opportunity when you're in your forties and too damn broken to even get through the night without alcohol. 

“So much for being a good father figure,” Dean snorted to himself as he flopped down on his bed, letting the silence that stood in his room carve him deeper than any torturer from Hell could conjure up, or any wound his body had ever endured. 

Dean’s eyes drifted over to the almost empty bottle of Tennessee Whiskey on his nightstand, and he let out a huff. He would never tell Sam about the dime bag he kept in the hiding place under the floorboard of Baby for when things got really bad and he knew that he should stop doing this shit to himself, but it was the only relief he seemed to get sometimes. Today seemed like one of those days.

I'm a lost cause Baby, don't waste your time on me I'm so damaged beyond repair Life has shattered my hopes and my dreams I'm a lost cause Baby, don't waste your time on me I'm so damaged beyond repair Life has shattered my hopes and my dreams

Dean picked up his phone that was lying next to him on the bed, and somehow he started to dial your number, just like he’d done a thousand times over the years. It felt like a lifetime since he’d last seen you, but he always kept your phone number and would even dial it on occasion to just hear you say “hello” before he would quickly hang up. 

But he couldn’t do that to you, he couldn’t put you in the kind of danger his life seemed to be saturated in.  Besides there was no hope for someone like him, and if he thought he was fucked up years ago when he’d first meet you on that hunt in Wichita? Well, fuck if he wasn’t more in deep shit now than he’d ever been. 

Dean was sure you’d moved on by now anyway, he wasn’t going to waste your time on him. He was a lost cause. A shattered, broken shell of the former hunter when he was 28. Now it was all an act and a brave face until he could get stoned enough to get numb to not give a damn, because Dean fucking Winchester wasn’t allowed to feel. And as a result, he never did .

What if the night sky was missing the moon? And there were no shooting stars, to use wishing on you And all of my sorrows, I just wash them down It’s the only peace I've ever found. All of this drinking and smoking is hopeless but feel like it's all that I need Something inside of me is broken, I hold onto anything that sets me free

Dean didn't stop until he was tired of driving, but it was better than being in that Bunker with the couple fucking happy in love. He found himself in probably another state, but fuck if he even knew which one, they all looked the same after so many years on the road. A joint burning slowly in one hand, a bottle of cheap whiskey in another, and his back stretched out on Baby’s sleek, black hood. Nothing out there between him and all of his past years of regret but the stars, and the moon that shined out over the body of water he was parked in front of.

He was starting to feel the effects of his self-medication, and he knew he’d end up spending the night out here-which wasn’t much of a problem for him. At least it was quiet, peaceful even. That or he was just shit-faced enough to drown out the voices in his head that were screaming at him louder than usual that he would die alone, just like his father. Chasing his demons. 

If this little bit of pot and that little bit of alcohol gave him a little earlier out without having to actually pull the trigger? Well, fuck he’d take that too. He deserved nothing less than to die stoned, drunk, and probably in his own vomit. So much for being a hero. At this point though, he was pretty positive that heroes didn’t get saved. 

When the alcohol had run out and he had to lean against a tree to take a piss, he decided that he’d go crawl in the backseat and try to sleep it off so that he could play the hero one more day. That was, if he woke up

When he had flopped across the leather seats of the only real home he’d ever known, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number he was pretty sure he’d never forget. It rang and rang until he was just about to say fuck it, and hang up when you finally answered the phone. 

“Hello?”

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat, and he knew that he should've just hung up but for some reason, he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand the ache in his own chest any longer.

“Hello?” your voice said again as one silent tear slipped down his cheek onto the leather seat underneath him.

“Y/N, It’s Dean… I-uh, I’m sorry to call you so late.”

You could have heard a pin drop as your own heart picked up pace, your mind racing a thousand miles a minute. 

“Dean? Damn it’s been years. I thought you were dead!” you tell him in disbelief, sitting down on the concrete steps outside of your little house. His face still was a clear picture in your mind, the night he’d left you felt like it was yesterday as it was all those years ago. 

“Not dead yet, Sweetheart,”  Dean laughed almost humorlessly. It was too late to hang up now, so he could either lie to her, or he could tell the truth, he could tell her how lonely he really was and how much he regretted the day he’d left her all those years ago. “I’m-uh… I’m thinking about coming by and seeing you for a few days. It’s been a long time, and I just… God Y/N, I just really want to see you again.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You could tell he’d been drinking by the slurred speech, but it was almost as if you could hear the cry for help in his voice. 

“You know you're always welcome here Dean. I told you years ago, and it still stands today, you can always come home.”

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as the tears started to flow freely down his face now. “So you never moved on? No, Mr Right?” Dean tried to sound like he was joking, but honestly, he just felt like he sounded weak. Still, he had to know. 

“No Dean, I told you-it was you, and it would always be you,” you said, drying tears of your own away with the sleeve of your shirt. “I still love you, Dean, I always will. No matter how dangerous you say it is.”

Dean was about to hang up and tell you it was a mistake, but you had to go and say that. The internal battle was still raging inside of him, but dammit if he wasn’t tired of fighting it.

I'm a lost cause Baby, don't waste your time on me I'm so damaged beyond repair Life has shattered my hopes and my dreams I'm a lost cause Baby, don't waste your time on me I'm so damaged beyond repair Life has shattered my hopes and my dreams

You talked to Dean until he had passed out with the promise he’d see you in the morning. He told you over and over again that you should hang up on him, that you should rightfully tell him to fuck off, but you refused to. So now you stood pacing the front porch of the address you had texted to his phone last night. Praying, hoping that you’d see that beautiful black Impala that haunted your dreams pull down your driveway. 

Some of the things that he’d told you last night that he’d been through were horrific and you knew he wasn’t the same man he was all those years ago, but you also knew he still had the same soul. He saved you all those years ago, and now, it was your turn to save him. 

You didn’t breathe easily until you heard Baby’s engine purr and saw her coming down your street. It took all you had not to run to meet him halfway, and when he got out of the car, he said nothing, just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight into him-like you were a lifeline, and if he let you go, he’d never surface again. Little did you know that it was exactly what he felt.

“You’re home Dean,” you told him through broken sobs of your own mixed with his. 

And he was. Finally, someone decided he might just be worth saving too, and he was glad that it was you.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy​ @rain-dance-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​

[thevoilinauttheory]

survivin’

[ FFxivWrite 2021 Prompt 8: Adroit ]

The Five Part “In the Dreams of Ashley” series is done! Go read the others here! {Prelude} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Wind} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Fire} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Water} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Earth}

[ HEAVY HEAVY CONTENT WARNINGS: implied child abuse/assault, detailed suffocation, detailed burial while alive, heavy grief and regret surrounding death ]

[ video has lots of moving colors ]

Dreaming about being buried alive is very frightening and is a warning that all of the things in your life that are causing you anxiety and despair should be thrown away. You have let things build up to a point that you are no longer able to control anything and now you risk being completely destroyed.

==

Ashley was forced into a uniform with little knowledge as to why, having just woken up with a raging headache and handcuffs on. Confused was an understatement. “Y’good?” There was a soft voice that addressed him, a soft voice that belonged to a large man. His hand set on his shoulder, some level of comfort and grounding while he gathered his bearings. “Wh-What’s goin’ on?” “Y’don’t know?” “Pretty sure the knot on th’back o’ my head answers that.” The man let out a laugh, then nodded. “Guess so. Yer bein’ conscripted.” “Conscripted? How in the hells!” Ashley pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh… he should have been more upset about this, but honestly, it felt like the worst kind of inconvenience. Still, he didn’t fight it, worked with the flow of everything as he usually did. “Guess I’m stuck here.” “We all’re, friend.” “What’s your name, friend?” He snorted. “Hunter. Ya’?” “Ashley.” “Nice t’meet ya’ Ashley, too bad it ain’t on better terms.” He nodded in response.

-

“Yer gonna get caught.” Ashley chuckled. “I never get caught. That’s the thing ‘bout growin’ up in Ul’dah.” “Mm.” “Hand me your rations.” “Are y’kiddin’? I ain’t givin’ y’anythin’!” “Sure? Thought y’wanted to get out o’ here, same as me. N’if y’do, you’re gonna have t’give ‘em to me.” “Why?” “Uh… food to last us until we get home?” “N’how ‘bout the energy they’re makin’ us use t’fight?” Ashley snatched Hunter’s rations from him, stuffing them into a tight and inconspicuous corner with the rest of all of the little items he managed to get away with - some string, blades, pins, badges; even things like hair-ties and pens. Anything he could get away with shoving in his pocket, he did so. He bumped his elbow back into Hunter and lowered his voice. “Get somewhere else, someone’s ‘bout to come in.” “Eh? How’d’y’know?” “I’ll tell you later, jus’ get or we’re gonna get caught.” Hunter backed off, going back to his own belongings to check them off; leaving Ashley to slide a sizeable block of concrete in front of the hole in the wall, covering it completely. “Tucker!” “Yes, sir!” “What are you doing on the floor, get your arse up now.” “Sorry, sir! I dropped my badge.” He stood up, adjusting the collar of his uniform with a small pin on it.

-

“How are we going to get past them? Did you even think that far through?” The Auri woman that had joined along prodded at him while he was thinking. “Will you shut it?”

Four of them clamored and cramped in the vents, waiting for a good time to drop out of them. They were dressed in different uniforms, to match those of the area they were about to infiltrate. When an opening arose, he dropped out of the vent, brushed off his clothes, then pretended to idly look at the schedule board that was on the wall. Well, he was looking at it, but also waiting for another good time to signal another body. He tapped his chin, stretched his arms above his head as the last person in the hall walked past him - he held up a signed “C”, and waved his hand. That let the other two know to let Colette drop down first, she did just the same - brushing out her uniform before striking up an uninteresting conversation about the schedule.

They waited for the hallway to clear again. She held her thumb and forefinger together and waved, signaling Ruta to come down next. As the next crowd came through, she pretended to be scolding them. It cleared, Ashley waved, and down came Hunter. Hunter always came last - he wasn’t the best actor or liar, so they made sure that he could be ready to move immediately. They walked down the hall, past many unsuspecting soldiers and medics, until they were able to escape the facility they were locked up in. “Oh, thank gods.” Hunter let out a sigh of relief at the fresh air, no matter how cold it was. “Sh. We ain’t there yet. There’s still the entire damned city. Make sure your bags are on tight, n’if not, fasten them. I mean it. Y’gotta be ready to book it once we get through.” “What are we going to do after?” The question was, thankfully, vague enough to not alarm anyone they were passing by; but Colette anxiously gripped the shoulder belt to her bag. “Hoof it.” “On land? All the way back?” Ruta folded her arms over her chest. “I’ve worked it out already, trust me.”

-

“How in the hells did you manage that!” Ruta laughed as she ran across the snow, outside the metal confines of Garlemald. “It’s cold, but kami, it’s free!” “I came prepared.” “Is that why your bag is larger than ours.” “Yeah. Managed to snatch a few uniforms and some blankets. We’ve got a long way to walk - most of it’s dead here. No life whatsoever, just snow. Ruta, yer on the way back first.” “Wait… is that why we’re walking?” “Aye. Othard connects here - stowing away on a ship or airship would skip over you entirely. So prepare t’get intimate with one another, ‘cause we’re gonna need a lot of body heat.” Ruta stopped and blinked at him. “...Thank you.” “You can thank me when y’get home. After Ruta, we’re going to stowaway on a merchant vessel - it’ll look more Garlean than Hingan, but it’s goin’ to get hijacked by pirates from Limsa. Which is how we get Hunter home. After that, Colette n’I’re gonna hitch a ship back t’Vesper Bay, and I’ll walk her back home.” They all seemed… shocked. Appalled, even. That this stranger would go out of his way to know so much about the way back, and that he’d help them even. “Where’re y’goin’ after that?” Hunter pat Ruta’s shoulder to get her moving again. “Mm. Back home, maybe. I dunno. Maybe I can get a job like this.” He laughed.

==

“Mister?” “Mm?” Ashley looked up from his book, pipe hanging loosely from his mouth as his eyes caught a young girl standing next to him. Her face was red from crying, and looking over her clothes brought back memories and images he wished he didn’t have.

“...Need help?” His voice lowered, to not draw attention. She nodded, and he stood up from his seat to pull off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders - it was obviously too large, but that was the point. He pulled a hair-tie from his pocket to tie back her hair, so that its general style was different at a glance. He lifted her up to sit in the chair, having her hold the book up as if she were reading it. He placed his arm on the back of the chair, talking random nonsense about words in the book to the girl as his eyes caught a glimpse of several people walking in, looking around for something or someone. When he noticed the girl’s grip on the book tightened, he figured those were the people she was hiding from. He placed his hand on one of hers, holding the book up as well - and he kept his voice just as low.

“Relax… don’t show any tension. If they see white knuckles, they’ll get suspicious.” She did just that, nodding slowly. “Okay… uhm.” She was afraid her voice would be recognizable if she spoke, so she kept it low. “What’s this word mean?” “Eh?” He looked back at the book, noting she was just pointing at the word “the”, to which he smiled - she was trying to play along with him. “That word? Oh! That’s a name, sweetheart. I know, all them Elezen got such fancy names, y’could swear y’saw ‘em in a dictionary.” They kept on like that until he saw all of those same people leave. “There y’go. All gone. Need someplace safe t’stay?” “Mm..” She didn’t trust like that, and he noticed. He laughed, waving one of his hands. “Not with me. I have a friend who takes care of children goin’ through what you are. I can make sure y’get there with no problem. Unless you’ve got a place? I can take you wherever you need most.” She smiled a little bit, nodding. “Someplace safe… sounds nice.” “Good! Now up y’get. I’ll look inta these people that hurt you, okay?”

==

He stared down at those graves, the ones he made; carved up of nothing but rocks and dirt, with desert blooms laid in place. All the thoughts welled up there - what he could have done, what could have gone better. Memories of all the times they had, wondering why he never said more. A lot of things were left unsaid - Ruta never got to propose to Colette, they never got to choose the colors of their wedding, or what flowers, what food and drinks; they never got to dance, and the last sight of each other wasn’t even a damned smile!

He cursed himself silently.

Hunter never got to go on about his newest niece, never got to tell the unheard stories of his family, never got to see the world as much as he dreamed, never got into a bar fight with a pirate; that the last he’d see of him was a damned smile! He never got to tell him-- He never got to tell them…

Ashley stared at the graves and knew…. this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

He sat down in the dirt in front of them, offering some vague notion of a smile. “Y’won’t believe me. I know it. But… helped someone out today. Didn’t turn ‘em down. Didn’t make any snarky comments or nothin’. ‘Member that time out in the eastside of La Nocsea? It was like that, unfortunately. But, despite their faults n’corrupt nature, got the Blades t’clear ‘em all out after trackin’ ‘em to wherever they were hidin’.”

He let out a soft sigh. “...I miss y’all. So much. Y’meant so much to me. I was jus’ s’posed to take y’all home… n’y’stayed with me. You were my family… everythin’ I had. N’I… n’I jus’...” He shook his head. “I wish I could’ve done more. I… I… I love y’all, with all I could. Each n’every one o’ya’. I… never got t’tell you that. I hope… wherever y’are now… you know that. I’ll keep livin’ on, keep y’strong. Yer memories aren’t wasted, aren’t gone. Not yet. I’ll be damned if your story don’t get heard, though.”

He closed his eyes for just a moment

He snapped awake, not upright; he laid flat and stared at the pitch darkness in front of him. The bed below him was hard - it felt more like a floor. Wasn’t he in the dirt before? He could’ve sworn he was outside but a few seconds ago. It must’ve been a bad trip, lost all sense of time and ended up wherever he was now. All he had to do was find his stuff. He tried to sit up, only to slam his head on a short ceiling. “Augh… ow…” He tried to rub the spot he hit, only for his arm to scrape a wall right beside him. What was going on? He placed his hands flat on the shallow ceiling, feeling around - it was wood - he tried to find some means of escaping. There must’ve been a latch *somewhere*. One hand lowered to his pocket… most, if not all, of his gear and possessions were stripped of him; though he pat around to find an assortment of objects in the corners of his prison. When his hand landed on a lighter, it immediately lit up.

A coffin. Was he dead? Had they found him and buried him with his family? Did he… even want to be dead? The response of him slamming his hands on the lid and screaming for someone answered that question. There must’ve been a mistake, he wasn’t dead - he wasn’t! There was no way, none of this could be real. Dirt fell in between the cracks of the splintering shell he was incased in, no one was going to come. No one could hear him. He could feel the tears at his cheeks, the deepest recesses of his mind coming forward.

He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t ready to join them. “Gods, please… please…” He hoped some entity would come forth to dig him up and let him breathe. It was getting hot, he could barely catch his breath; like something stuck in his throat. He tried to cry for help again, met with the same silence. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, settling on his mouth and face and numbing his skin while he choked on nothing. He slammed his hands against the wood. Maybe there was just a small bit of air, if he could just get out. He dug his nails into the splinters and chips, tearing back his fingernails for just a *chance* at being able to dig his way to freedom. He was getting tired, though, exhausted. His chest hurt, and he could no longer hold up his arms. He stared at the darkness above him. Regardless of whether he wanted it or not, he could feel his vision fading - he tried to keep his eyes closed while gasping for the air that didn’t exist.

==

Ashley snapped awake, upright, this time; eyes forced closed by the brightness of the sun reflecting off the walls of the city - still in front of the graves of his family. He panted heavily, head reeling from the nightmare.

A nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

He was never so thankful for knowing it was just a dream.

[wille-zarr]

The Mandalorian: “We Have a Deal”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter One ~ “We Have a Deal”

masterlist / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated T for violence; reference to mild injuries; death; mild swearing; mentions of hunger

word count: 4.1k

summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: first, i must thank my amazing beta readers @sana-katarn @disneyjedi19 @barrissoffee77 for their fantastic feedback and for cheering me on throughout this whole process. secondly, i must thank @kaminobiwan @royalhandmaidens @fancycheesebread @arda-ancalima @babyomen  @highlycommendable​ for their kind comments and enthusiasm towards this story. i can’t thank you all enough. i can’t even put into words just how much it means to me. i love you all very much, and i am so excited to begin the adventure that is in fields of white. 

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter One: “We Have a Deal”

Reflecting upon the events of your life, you decide you must be either the luckiest or most cursed person in the galaxy.

Current events have you leaning towards the latter.

With a frustrated grunt, you squint your eyes against the dust billowing down the street. Reaching up to your hat, you lower a pair of goggles to rest securely around your eyes. You mutter curses when you feel sand rattling around in the lenses, trapped inside by the whipping wind. 

You slightly lift the scarf pressed against your mouth and spit, ridding your mouth of the dust turning to mud. At this point, six weeks into your miserable residence on the tiny planet of Taek, you must have consumed enough dust and dirt to birth a new desert planet.

Grumbling complaints to yourself, you tighten the scarf around your face as you stalk down the street, avoiding eye contact with anyone or anything for too long. You learned that lesson the first week on Taek after a tussle with a Twi’lek. 

In your defense, you were only trying to be friendly, but, apparently, Taek didn’t have much in the way of locals, only smugglers and pirates looking for a quick refuel and refresh. Prolonged eye contact and a friendly “hello” with those kinds sometimes didn’t end too terribly well. The fading bite mark on your arm proved as much.

Hoping to rid yourself of the dust that seemed to penetrate everything this dirtball had to offer, you slip in between two buildings, allowing yourself a reprieve from the sandstorm whipping down the street. You loosen your scarf, shaking your head as sand pours from it like a waterfall.

“Damn it,” you grumble. “I shouldn’t be hungry after all the sand I’ve swallowed.” You spit more dirt out of your mouth as if to prove your point. 

Satisfied that you’ve ridded yourself of as much dirt as possibly achievable on a planet full of dirt, you turn your attention back towards assessing Taek’s current batch of inhabitants. 

Taek’s only starport held a different crowd of creatures every couple of days. Outside of the few storekeepers, cantina-owners, and brothels, you are convinced Taek holds no permanent residents. 

You cross your arms and lean against the corner of the building. “One mean-looking squid-man,” you mumble under your breath as you take tally. “A Twi’lek, looks like a smuggler…. Rodian...”

A bright flash of light from down the street pulls your eyes in that direction. Letting your arms fall to the side, you squint, making out an armored figure striding down the street, reflecting bright sunlight even through the dust caking the air.

A Mandalorian.

With a sharp inhale of breath, you jerk backwards into the alley. “No, no, no!” you hiss to yourself. 

You’d seen and avoided other bounty hunters on Taek, but this was a Mandalorian bounty hunter. 

You’d heard stories about Mandalorian hunters. 

If he was looking for you…

Your stomach tightens with more than just hunger.

Stars.

You are dead.

Forcing your breath to even itself out, you scold yourself for the unreasonable panic. 

“It’s going to be okay; I’m safe,” you mentally repeat your well-worn mantra. You pause, scowling.

A new mantra might be in order at this point in your life.

You peer back around the corner of the building, torn between wanting to observe the actions of the Mandalorian or bolting as far away as possible. With a deep breath, you choose the former, and also possibly the dumbest, option. Releasing an anxious sigh, you lower the goggles onto your face and tighten the scarf back across your mouth.

You move forward, mingling with the faces of others who, like you, wish to escape a named existence. You push against the crowds of people, eyes sweeping back and forth for any sign of the sun-reflecting armor. 

Panic slowly begins to creep back in when, after several minutes of searching, you can find no sign of the Mandalorian. 

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach that, in this game of tooka-cat and nuna, you might just be the nuna after all.

After an eternity swimming through a faceless crowd, your eyes latch onto gleaming metal again. You grin underneath your scarf, and your grin only widens when you see the cantina he chooses to go inside. 

The Tiny Whomp Rat Cantina is one of the few establishments where you have managed to make connections with a few of the bartenders. When you are having an unusually lucky day, one of the friendlier bartenders would provide some extra work for credits or a bit of extra food.

You position yourself across the street, hoping you looked as ordinary as whatever’s considered ordinary on Taek. You shake your head with a groan. Inhaling dust all day and the lack of food is beginning to mess with your head. You suppose that might explain why you are currently stalking a Mandalorian instead of getting the hell out of sight. 

You let your legs give way as you slowly sink down to the ground, leaning against the wall of a building for support. You feel and look pathetic- the perfect disguise.

Frustration presses in your chest after an hour passes with no sign of the Mandalorian leaving the cantina. At this point, you’ve called the Mandalorian every curse word under the sun, and even invented a few new ones for him. To top it off, dusk is falling, and it is beginning to grow chilly, only flaming your irritability further.

Stupid tin-head. 

Son of a Hutt. 

Shavit brain. 

Kriffin metal man.

Damn it! You are too impulsive and impatient for this. You grumble new complaints under your breath as you rip your scarf down and roughly rub your face. If the hunter is searching for you, he isn’t doing a very good job so far.

Oh, what the hell.

You’re going inside.

You stand, pausing a moment to let the blood rush back into your legs. You hesitate only a split second before stalking across the street and creeping through the cantina doors.

You can hear your grandfather’s voice now.

“Child, did you think at all before you chose to act?”

“Yes, actually, I did this time. But probably for not long enough."

Your grandfather is still spitting truths at you even in death.

Shuffling forward, you crinkle your nose at the wall of smell that smacks you in the face as you move inside. You hate this place. It smells like a rotting Hutt eating a decomposing Kowakian monkey-lizard whilst basking in the swamp gasses of Nal Hutta. 

Not that you probably smell any better at this point, but still. 

The only thing you are grateful for is the fact that the lack of light inside the dingy cantina provided excellent concealment.

Daring not to glance around too much and draw attention to yourself, you stalk straight towards the bar, very grateful to see it’s your friend, a grey-haired elderly man named Irea, working this evening. He looks up and actually smiles at you. It took three weeks to get that smile out of him, and so you return it eagerly. His is the only smile you’ve seen in weeks.

“Hey, kid.” He picks up a glass and begins drying it with a stained rag. “I’m afraid I don’t have any work for you today.” He sighs. “The boss is cracking down, and I-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt with a raised hand. You slip into a bar stool and lean forward, eyes darting around. You don’t see the Mandalorian anywhere. 

You lower your eyes, clenching your hands tightly together on the bar in front of you. “I haven’t come here about that.”

Irea tucks his rag into his back pocket and places a hand on the bar beside you, leaning forward with his body, blocking your conversation from the prying eyes of customers. 

“What’s wrong, kid?”

You bite your lip. “Nothing… I mean, I-” You pause and take a shaky breath. Your eyes lift up to meet his own. “I need to ask you about one of your customers.” Your voice drops so low that even you struggled to hear what you had to say. You dart your eyes around again, still not spying the Mandalorian anywhere. You can’t help but fear at any given moment he will jump at you from behind.

“Oh?” the old bartender prods.

You tense, scared to even breath the words. “The Mandalorian. He came in here, right?”

Irea nods slowly. “He’s in one of the back booths,” he whispers, tilting his head towards the rear of the cantina.

You can’t see the back booths from your current vantage point, but your teeth clench knowing you are in such close proximity to the Mandalorian. Too close. You instinctively pull your hat down to sit lower on your face.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss. “Do you know?”

Irea’s eyes shoot around the room. Once he is satisfied there is no one close enough to eavesdrop, he continues, “He’s talking with some strangers I’ve not seen before.” A mischievous expression inches across his face. “But I may have overheard a bit of their conversation, accidentally, mind you.” He points a finger at you with a wink.

You flash him a bright grin. “Of course, of course. Accidentally.”

The old bartender motions for you to move closer towards the wall, so you slip off the barstool and move along with him. He leans in closer to your face. “The Mandalorian is trying to discover the location of Marek’s basecamp.”

You suck air through your teeth with a sharp hiss. “No way.” You shake your head. “Good luck finding that out from anyone.”

He chuckles. “I’m certainly not going to tell him.”

You laugh along with him. “Me neither. Stars!”

Another lesson you learned about this region within the first week of your stay: it’s probably a good idea to avoid associating with Marek and his smuggling ring cronies. 

Of course, you learned this after you had already “visited” said basecamp. What can you say? You have a knack for learning lessons the hard way.

But, thank the Maker, the Mandalorian is not searching for you. You feel the tension drain from your shoulders as this realization sinks in.

“Stars, if I had any money, I’d buy a drink right about now,” you chuckle dryly, tucking your chin underneath the ragged scarf draped around your neck. Irea’s eyes soften, and he pats you knowingly on the shoulder.

You smile up at him and crinkle your nose. “Well, thanks anyway,” you sigh, shifting to stand up.

A heavy thud of metal launches you back into your seat.

Oh hell! 

Hell! 

Kriffin’ hell!

All the air shoots from your lungs as you stupidly gawk up at the Mandalorian. He leans against the bar, mere feet away from you.

“For my tab,” the Mandalorian rasps through his helmet’s vocoder, sliding credits towards the old bartender. The Mandalorian pulls away, not sparing one glance at you before sweeping out of the cantina.

 You clasp your hands over your eyes, letting out a sharp breath.

“Stars,” you mumble. All of that stress and worry, and the Mandalorian hadn’t even looked at you. If you weren’t so relieved, you might would feel insulted.

Irea chuckles. “It’s getting late, kid.”

You nod your head, understanding the meaning behind his careful words. After dark, the streets of Taek were not a place not fit for those wishing to avoid trouble. 

And seeing as how you possess no weapon, you care very much to avoid the night. You move to stand up again when Irea discretely slides a small package under your hand.

“It’s all I can spare without the owner noticing,” he hisses. “You didn’t get it from me.” He spins on his heel, turning his attention back to drying dishes. 

Tears burn in the corner of your eyes, and you squeeze the bag of scraps to your thigh.

You are too kind for this place.

-------

You make your way down the street, grateful that the air has finally cleared itself of the rolling dust clouds. It’s uplifting to walk and breath in clear air, something you never thought you’d take for granted. A wave of stench hits your nostrils from the direction of a junkpile, and you almost gag.

Well, it’s mostly clear air, anyway.

As you continue on your way back to your home camp, you stop by a few of the mechanic shops to ask if they have any work available. You are met with the usual: no work. Taek is pretty small, and the local staff of mechanics keep things taken care of, leaving little work to freelancers like yourself. 

Which is probably for the best.

You make a terrible mechanic.

Ignoring your mounting frustration towards life, you make sure to stop and search a few garbage dumpsters located behind some cantinas for anything you can hoard. 

Again, no luck. 

The food Irea slipped you will have to do for now.

You are so tired of this.

You numbly weave your way through the dark labyrinth of alleys, stars already beginning to twinkle in the sky, instinctively following the path you have traversed every morning and evening for the past six weeks. 

As you near the spot where you’ve been sleeping at night, you blood rushes ice cold at a distressed, high-pitched scream echoing from one of the nearby alleys.

You cringe, cover your ears, and keep walking. 

You know you have to keep moving; ignore everything you might hear. No one investigated screams at night on Taek. Not unless they were heavily armed and ready to throw down, which you most certainly aren’t. But after another shrill cry rises in the air, your twisting heart won’t allow your feet to keep moving away.

You let out a groan and follow the length of an alleyway before the voices are just around the corner. You cautiously move forward, crouching behind a crate. You peer above it, grimacing when you spy two Zabrak women pressed against the wall of a building. You recognize them from one of the merchant stores in town. They are rapidly speaking in their native language, cowering in terror. You do not recognize the two males, one Rodian and the other a species you had no name for. 

But he was tall, really tall.

This... probably won't end well.

The Rodian’s hand shoots out and grabs one of the Zabrak’s arms, sending her into screaming hysterics.

“Wait!” you shriek, jumping up from behind the crate more as an involuntary reaction to the Zabrak’s screams than a conscious decision. “Stop!”

The Rodian actually drops the Zabrak’s arm, in complete shock at your sudden appearance. He and his partner take a few steps towards you, speaking a language you have no name for. 

But their body language didn’t exactly scream “friendly”. 

You shake your head, eyes narrowing. 

Stars, this was not planned. 

You have one option.

“Run!” you shriek at the Zabraks, not sticking around to see if they take advantage of your distraction. You scramble over a crate and fly down corridors as fast as your feet can take you. You know these alleys well, just about the only advantage to being marooned for six weeks on Taek. You take a few confusing twists and turns before diving behind a barrier wall, panting heavily. You clutch your side, pain stabbing it from your sudden burst of adrenaline.

“Stars, the things I get mixed up in,” you groan inwardly.

Just when you start to think you might be free, you hear the men’s yells echoing from one alleyway over.

Damn! They both followed you.

You let out a short growl and clench your teeth, pushing away from the wall and zooming towards the location of your home camp. If you can get there unseen, you could hunker down for a few days and stay hidden until the pirates, smugglers, whatever, leave the planet.

You turn the corner, hope building in your chest, and run full-speed into the courtyard- straight into the Rodian.

You shriek and stumble backwards, right into the tall alien’s legs. His hands tighten hard around your upper arms. You yelp at the pain and uselessly try to pull away. The Rodian moves forward laughing and saying things to you in his native language.

“Let me go, you filthy…. disgusting… bug!” You kick as hard as you can, trying to make contact with the tall alien’s legs, but he only laughs and lifts you up in the air by your arms. The oxygen whooshes out of your lungs as your feet dangle a good three or four feet in the air.

“Ahg!” you cry. “Listen! I- I… urg, no hard feelings! I’m…. a mechanic! I…. offer services… free!”

Both men burst into laughter, but you remain dangling in the air.

“Put her down.”

You jerk your head sideways. Standing against a wall, almost nonchalantly, is your Mandalorian. Your mouth gapes open in utter disbelief.

“I said,” he takes one step forward, “down… Now.”

You catch the shine of a weapon pointed directly at the tall alien.

Holy kriff.

The tall alien harshly hurls you to the ground. You hit dirt hard with a cry and cover your head instinctively. You have no time to process anything before-

BLAST. BLAST.

The stench of burned flesh immediately permeates your nose. You crack open your eyes to find yourself face-to-face with the smoking remains of your Rodian friend.

“Bloody seven hells!” you yelp, stumbling up to your feet. You gawk down at the two bodies, mouth still gaped open. Your senses flood back to you all at once. Your eyes shoot up in the direction of where the Mandalorian had just been standing. All you can see is the gleam from the back of his helmet as he retreats from the courtyard.

“Wait!” you cry, freezing him mid-stride. He does not turn around, but you see him tilt his helmet slightly to the side at your voice.

You pause, your heart pumping so hard from adrenaline that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

Maybe it was that same adrenaline or your heightened emotions, but the words that spill out of your mouth surprise even you.

"I know what you're looking for."

He hadn’t been expecting that.

The Mandalorian slowly, silently turns in your direction. His dark visor bores straight into you, not at all unlike a falcon considering if you are worth making prey. 

You mentally hiss at yourself, lamenting your impulsion. 

Oh, what the hell.

Too late now.

The Mandalorian continues staring at you in laden silence. You take this as an indication to continue. You hide your shaking hands in the pockets of your pants and take a few steps forward, as close as you dared to someone so threatening and who just killed two men now laying at your feet.

“You’re looking for Marek’s base.” You pause, testing the words. The Mandalorian makes no noise nor shows any indication that you are correct. 

Silently berating yourself and your horrible decision-making skills, you open your mouth to continue. “Nobody here will help you. Nobody who knows where it’s located.” You pause again and flex your fingers nervously. “They’re… too intimidated.”

This time you let the silence sit, heavy and dense between the two of you.

After what feels like an eternity, the Mandalorian tilts his visor to the side. “And?”

With a deep breath, you throw your shoulders back, taking on the presence of someone much older, experienced, and confident. “I can take you there.” Pause. “You have to go on foot. A ship or speeder would trip the sensors.” Pause. “And you can’t get there without my help.”

Thick silence hangs in the air. You fear he might burn you right where you stand with just his damn gaze. Abruptly, the Mandalorian shifts to place a hand on his holster. You shallow hard at the motion, though you suspect it’s an involuntary mannerism of his.

“Fine… how much?” his voice rasps.

You shake your head. “No credits.”

His hand drops from the holster at that. 

“What then?”

You take a second to consider your words. This could turn out to be another scheme that fails horribly, but at this point, it is all the hope you have left. You had to throw your trust to something. 

“I- I need transportation off this rock.” You can’t help the edge of desperation your voice takes on. “As close to Keolith as you believe is a… fair exchange.”

The Mandalorian remains silent a few seconds longer than you are comfortable with.

“Why transportation?” his gruff, modulated voice slices through the silence. “Credits just as easily pays for transportation.”

You shake your head. “There’s no public transportation here. Even if I had the credits, I'd have to trust a stranger found in a dingy cantina.” You let a small smile inch onto your face. “And considering my limited experiences here,” you motion towards the smoking bodies, “I really don’t want to do that.”

You hear the Mandalorian grunt, your heart leaping that you might actually be getting somewhere with him. You take a few steps closer towards the Mandalorian. “Plus, I can work! I’m a… mechanic.” You bite your tongue at this. You... probably should not claim that as a benefit to having you on-board.

Your shoulders sink, losing a bit of their straightness. “I’m… I just have to get out of this place,” you finally say, your voice sounding very small and very unlike you. You stare the Mandalorian down, refusing to shift your eyes away despite the discomfort bubbling in your chest.

The Mandalorian is the one to break the gaze, and he looks down at the ground with a heavy sigh. “Fine.” He lifts his head back up. “We have a deal.”

Your eyes flutter in shock. “Whu-?” Quickly masking your surprise, you nod sharply. You straighten back up, taking on the persona of confidence again. “Excellent… We have a deal then.” You can’t help but flash a toothy grin at the Mandalorian.

You close the rest of the distance between the two of you and reach out a hand. “In my culture, we shake on deals,” you explain when the Mandalorian stares down at your open hand.

You hear him release a puff of air through his vocoder, but he carefully places his hand in yours- a solid, firm grip, and you flash an impish smirk up at him.

The dark, emotionless visor stares back down.

You are first to pull your hand away and cross your arms. “It would be best to head out in the morning. It’s about a whole day’s walk. We can meet here at dawn?”

The Mandalorian nods in agreement. “Fine.” His helmet then turns to look at something somewhere behind you. 

You follow his line of sight, eyes moving around the courtyard, pausing when you see the bodies of the men still laying on the ground. You chuckle cynically at the sight. Even after the sounds of blaster fire, no one dared come see about it until morning.

“Where do you live?” his raspy voice interrupts your dark humor. “I can… escort you there.”

At that, you let out a dry chuckle. Your smile saddens when he tilts his head at your response.

“Sure.” You keep your arms crossed as you meander through the courtyard and past the bodies lying dead on the ground. You turn and look up at the Mandalorian who is trailing slowly behind you.

“I’m kind of… already home.” You drop to your knees and pry away a loosened board underneath decking beside a set of stairs. You squirm through the tight opening, twisting around to peer back up at the Mandalorian towering over you. 

“See you tomorrow, Mandalorian.” You pause. “Oh, and… thanks for, you know, killing them.” You nod in the direction of the corpses.

With a loud thud, you pull the board back closed, entombing yourself under the decking you call home. You start to crawl further underneath when you hesitate, observing the Mandalorian through the cracks between the boards. He is staring directly at the panel you had just replaced. You almost think he starts to move forward.

But he turns on his heel and strides away, leaving only you and two dead bodies for company in the courtyard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist / next chapter

a/n: Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of In Fields of White! Please feel free to review/comment on here or Ao3 letting me know what you think! :D 

Message me if you would like to be added to the tag list for In Fields of White. Let’s just say I have some surprises up my sleeve with this story! Also, it should be noted that this will most certainly be a slowburn story BECAUSE WE STAN SLOWBURN STORIES. 

[blankdblank]

Brother Dearest Pt 52

“Steve has a sister...” Peggy halfway murmured at the sight of the returned Commandos to the bar she alone sat in the curved booth with fingers twisting the shot glass holding a whiskey now watered down by the melted ice meant to cool it.

Jaques asked in his slide first into the booth the others joined in on the motion to support their friend in this monumental loss. “What?”

“Steve has a sister.” She repeated and jaws dropped to her rehash of all the Colonel had shared and the way he had hinted he would hurt Steve for the fate the girl suffered.

Gabe, “So she’s dead?”

Dum dum shook his head, “No, we know Steve! We spent all that time together and not one mention of a family!”

Peggy said on the cusp of tears with a crack in her voice, “Well we apparently didn’t know him very well!” Up she raised her glass and haltingly took a sip and lowered it with half the liquid remaining in the lipstick stained glass that tapped the table again to her swallow. “He never said if she was dead or alive.” She whispered with her mind circling on that woman traveling with the Colonel who said her name was classified.

Jim, “And what if she’s alive? Not like we can do anything for the girl.”

“I have to know.” Left simply to that the conversation hung like a wet blanket over the mock funeral on the base as none could attend the one they anticipated would be held to celebrate him upon his return as a hero to Brooklyn.

.

And small bits of progress were shared on and off in the aid of Stark in his enlisting her aid in clearing his name and saving the world between run ins of the old friends until the fated call, “I found her, she’s alive.”

“You got to be kidding me,” Dum Dum chuckled and asked, “Who is she then? Still a nurse or did she drop that after the war?”

“She’s a student, at Columbia University. She’s in Brooklyn. I’m going to meet her tomorrow after a stop by Steve’s grave.”

“Well then, do we at least get a name?”

“She changed it, her surname at least, she goes by Bunny Pear now.”

“Bunny Pear.” The name had his face go stoic recalling those towns and stops they crossed with those signs posted up creaking the gears in his head in puzzlement as to who this mystery sister and brother duo was and why the hell Steve acted like he knew nothing of them at all. “The only woman awarded the Medal of Honor Bunny Pear?”

“Yes, you’ve read about her then?”

“Steve lied about a lot more than just having a sister. Bunny Pear devastated every German force she and her brother came across, and while we toured a ruin of a city they’d left Steve and Bucky played the fool. Hundreds of soldiers we crossed had thousands of things to say about them.” He paused then said, “Ring us when you’ve talked to her with what you learn.”

“I will.” She replied and hung up the phone more fearful than she had been hours earlier upon uncovering an address to find said lost sister she had been brushed off by once before years prior as to why her friend was so curt in his parting tone that revealed a mingle of hurt and something else. Something she hoped to be a misunderstanding and not a betrayal of the man they all had such hopes for being a pure heart in the middle of a harsh war to guide them to safety and a better tomorrow.

 *

From the library to the dinner table you were set to move for the meal the brothers got started on once Eddie had come home and Peggy joined you all after having asked a few blaring questions about Venom in his shoot outwards ready to eat any intruder upon the telling scent of blood foreign to the family. In a skip of a scoop Eddie remained at home to keep watch of you all tonight knowing Venom would want to be on patrol all night. Both Norma and Dawn smiled and greeted Peggy, with whom they chatted in the wait for food until the doorbell rang again and Eddie sprung to check on who it was.

“Oh, hello,” the clear voice echoed through the house and was followed by, “Edwin Jarvis, there is a Peggy Carter here I believe?”

Eddie replied, “Yup, James said you called. Just you?”

“Jarvis, we’re growing cold, it’s on the move!” Stark’s voice came from the car parked on the curb who waved to Eddie, “Hey Eddie! Been following your headlines, you’ve been building up some steam!”

To that you smirked and climbed to your feet to join Peggy to the door, “I take it this means you won’t be staying for supper.”

“Apparently not. The offer was very kind however.” She answered with a kind smile.

Right to the door you strolled to stop in the doorway where Stark waved to you, “There you are Bunny! Not dead yet I see.”

That had you smirk and look to Jarvis in the sweep of his eyes over you, “Oh my,” he said then flashed you a grin stating, “Edwin Jarvis,” his hand outstretched for a handshake you returned, “Pleasure to meet you. I have heard so very many things about you, Mrs Pear Howlett.”

“Pleasure to meet you, you must have the patience of a mountain to work with Stark.”

His head tilted to the side a moment and he flashed Peggy a grin, “Lately it has been much more accommodating to my skill set and the company much less likely to land me slapped by women I come across.” His eyes wandered over you in a lean into Eddie’s side to the clear shift of your belly that had you rest a hand on it. “Might, I be bold in offering congratulations?”

“You may, and thank you.” You replied then looked to Peggy.

“I will let you rest, however I did want to let you know, the Howling Commandos, who traveled with Steve and Bucky in the war, they will be in town tomorrow and wondered if you might be up to meeting them? They also wished to pay their respects to Bucky’s parents as well.”

Eddie, “Bucky’s just got his Mom and sisters, girls are about 11 now.”

Peggy, “Good, we were planning on joining in for church, if you would accept that.”

“Not my place to ban anyone from church. We do have a block party after they may find as a reprieve after a Catholic Mass. Can be quite daunting for some not familiar with the service.”

She nodded and to Stark’s next honk she rolled her eyes and Jarvis said, “We will see you tomorrow, Mrs Pear Howlett, Mr Pear.” Both names accentuated with nods before his turn to join Peggy on the way back to the car.

“Should be fun,” you said to Eddie who chuckled and turned to lift Teddy in his race towards his father with drawing in hand to show it off.

“Oh yes,” he said to your closing and locking the doors. To turn back to the guys with eyes shifting over Eddie answering his mental questions on what he had missed of the intruders above what the guys had given of a basic description. Though mainly to calm Venom that the threat was aimed for Peggy and not yourself or his children.

Norma however drew your focus in a move to guide you to the dining room table, “Your friend had to leave before supper?”

“Yes, she’ll be at Mass tomorrow with more friends of my brother Steve’s.”

James asked, “You okay with that? We can stay home.”

That had you chuckle, “Right, because she would never just bring them here.”

And he smirked back at you playfully answering, “You set the rules. You want them barred we won’t let them in.”

Dawn said, “I just can’t believe she would come here knowing she was being followed.”

“Well I suppose there is the off chance she didn’t know. Seemed afraid of the woman at least, had to be sneaky or something to scare her.”

Victor murmured in French to keep Norma from hearing, “Don’t have to be sneaky to get a shot off in my chest.”

James teased, “Fairly big target to miss a couple feet away, now his head, be hard to hit that in reaching distance.” Earning a smirking glance back at him.

Dawn said to Norma’s confused glance their way, “Suppose we’ll just have to make sure these friends of Steve’s won’t cross any lines.”

.

The purple floral wrap dress you chose that hung past your knees was smoothed over you to sit under the cardigan you used to keep warm on top of the jacket that was eased over your arms and back. Sure to have your hat in place down the front stoop you strolled to join the others in town for the joint trip to Mass between your relatives. With his arm around your back James kept you close in the sight of Stark’s car driving past. While on the sidewalk outside the church Peggy stood with her signature blue dress and bright red hat to match her lipstick outlining the easy grin she gave you in the move to lead the staring group of guys behind her inside. Into the pew a row back to the left of yours across the aisle they settled. Each of them luring stolen glimpses through the service until the town and Priest especially got a chance to interrogate the newcomers who seemed to keep their focus on the family that everyone hoped would just be left to their privacy to live out their lives.

Once Mass was over however and your family took turns in the chance for confession the Brocks were the first to swoop in to begin the questioning. Gina especially smiled in her step towards the group and asked, “Passing through town?”

James Montgomery took the brief murmured conversation Peggy and Dum Dum Dugan were having about the proper time for him to put his hat back on to answer, “Yes, we’ve come out to pay our respects to Steve Rogers’ and Bucky Barnes’ families.”

Her husband asked, “Really? You knew them well?”

Pinky Pinkerton said after glancing back to Gabe Jones, Jim Morita and Happy Sam Sawyer who were ushered prior to Mass to sit on the far end of the pew on their move to join the group again, “We served together, though Steve never mentioned he had a sister, or any family at all really. Said he was orphaned.”

Mama Brock said in an unamused scoff to the memory of how her adopted daughter was treated, “Selfish little boy wouldn’t know family if it slapped him in the face. Lucky we never got our hands on him after he kept leaving Bunny out on the steps.”

That turned Peggy’s head, “On the steps? He actually left her on the steps?”

“Even went so far as to argue with the Judge that gave him custody to send her away so he wouldn’t have to have legal custody of her right in front of the poor thing before he was sent packing. To actually want to send her off anywhere unknown on the verge of a war to who knows what end how cruel can you get to do that to such a sweet child?” Mamma Brock then huffed feeling herself ready to begin shouting mumbled in a try to keep calm, “I have to go check on my pies,” and joined the others on their way to fetch the food cooked for the block party and her daughters began to list slight after slight that had their hearts sinking for both of their friends.

Including a stop to view the album of Sarah Rogers’ funeral where the guys understood by the captured look on your face just who Bucky was haunted by. The younger sister he encouraged Steve to abandon.

Peggy asked after the album was closed and added to the shelf of funerals of families within the past decade, “I don’t see Steve’s album. There’s one for Bucky.”

Ambrose said, “The Catholic church does not give suicides funeral processions.” That dropped Peggy’s jaw, “Father Thomas only insisted upon giving any words at all over the grave for Bunny’s sake when he knew we knew she was alive and with Eddie.”

Jim Morita, “Where did everyone think she was?”

Gina, “She was assumed to have run off with Eddie, but we clarified she got into a good school in Canada then they got drafted. Until she got shot she was listed as a POW though by the Canadians, we still have the telegrams our cousins received. War offices learned she was with Eddie through the field promotion papers and picture of the planes and tanks she took out first time she got shot.”

Dum Dum Dugan, “Well, I guess in his own way Steve had to have left her something decent for how she’s managed since the war.”

Ambrose’s husband said, “Steve left everything to the church. Even Jaqi’s things, she didn’t have a red cent to her name or home to come back to except for ours. Father Thomas is the one who set up the inheritance to be transferred to us to watch for her.”

Howard from the back of the church had crept forward and asked a question that hurt the group even more than anything they’d heard before that he had to confirm you yourself had told him, “Steve really call her a monster?”

Ambrose, “When he called her anything at all. Barely spoke to her at all unless it was a shout on where her change for food was or eyes were on him from people he wanted respect from.”

Howard, “He pick on people often?”

Gina, “After how his dad treated him and Sarah all he wanted to do was fight, even after she married Jaqi’s dad.”

Howard asked in a look over the albums, “Which one’s her dad’s?”

Ambrose, “Father Thomas gave it to Jaqi, only keeps them a decade. The one for Steve’s dad as well he found tucked away from when Sarah died.”

Howard asked, “Her dad a good man?”

Gina and Ambrose chuckled and the latter’s husband answered, “The pinnacle of perfect father and husband. Never raised a hand to anyone or any creature. Used to call Sarah his Greatest Treasure and Jaqi his fair Queen of the Cosmos, drove Steve up the wall. Worked and saved for his studies and a fund for his girl to study after him at the best schools. Even paid for Steve’s tuition for art classes at the community college.”

Jaques Dernier asked, “How does Bucky fit into this? Why did he hate Bunny? What did he get out of it?”

Gina’s husband answered, “He got Steve’s focus all to himself. Didn’t have much of a home he wanted to go back to at night. Steve wanted an escape and gave Bucky the most devoted buddy he could ask for.” From there the group led the others out to the party where two identically dressed girls with painfully familiar eyes stopped in their way with wide smiles.

“You knew our brother?” Stories of their war hero brother were shared to be confirmed that the guys were stunned they had heard you shared researched bits learned just for them to keep their hero. The new stories the guys shared were adored especially by their mother who in your exit of the church gave you a grin and watched your approach.

She said to the guys in the walk closer in a moment of distraction for the girls, “She’s been so kind to my girls, for how my boy and her brother behaved. Don’t you be rude to her. We owe her that much.”

Howard asked in a step away lowly to meet you before you reached the others, “You haven’t broken the bad news to the girls?”

“I’m not in the business of destroying heroes for little girls. They deserve memories of a brother who loved them and died ensuring they were safe.”

Howard, “How can you stand it, that truth you can’t say?”

“Everyone in town knows who is old enough to. Their cruelty dies with them.”

Bernie and Benji when their friends had called them waved and made their ways to the seats saved for them to share some of the excitement while you stepped forward accepting handshakes and introductions of the group that each of your family nodded in their own naming. Mrs Barnes left soon after to join her own friends to shift the focus of the group back to you.

Marigold, Petal and Teddy however called for food while you focused on the newcomers that joined you at the closest table mainly away from the crowds to the start of the music. “So, you knew Steve and Bucky in uniform, must have left an impression to bring you all out here.”

Gabe said, “Well, they were pretty special, least till we heard about you and Eddie.”

Jim Morita, “You really turned Panzers to marbles?”

“Among other things.”

Howard, “And she’s being stingy on the weaponry. I’ve even been asked to see if I can duplicate it. Magnets however are surprisingly difficult to master.” His eyes looked you over and he said, “How you made it in one piece with magnets that strong I have no clue. Did you know they can cause heart failure when they pass a certain grade?”

“Human body is comprised of iron in the blood, along with other traces of metal throughout the rest of the body, sodium, potassium, magnesium, calcium, vanadium, chromium, manganese, cobalt, nickel, copper, zinc, molybdenum, and cadmium. Part of how x-rays and sonograms work magnetic fields reacting to the body.”

“Not hard to bypass.” Happy Sam Sawyer chuckled out, “Don’t you remember, we heard the soldiers we came across all said they’re aliens.”

That had you smirk and thank the young Brock kids that brought your drinks over then darted off to play again. “Close enough,” you giggled and lifted your drink to take a sip then lowered your hand to the belly that shifted and drew James in a grin of his own to steal a stroke of your belly.

Jaques began the sea of congratulations and Dum Dum asked, “Did you plan on returning to school? You seem due soon.”

“Due closer to summer actually.” Parting his lips in confusion, “Triplets.”

Howard said, “When we’re done here Jarvis has our gifts for you in the trunk.”

“You didn’t have to bring gifts.”

Howard nodded, “Oh yes I did. Down right rude not to. Good thing I buy spares or Peggy’s sharing of the triplets would have left me in a lurch to have enough for all of you.”

“Fine, but it better not have gemstones or anything flashy or you’ll end up wearing it.”

Again he smirked and Dum Dum Dugan asked, “Any clue on what you’re having?”

“Girls,” James answered, “Hopefully just like their mom.”

Eddie said, “My sisters and cousins mostly have boys so when Dawn and I had Marigold they loved the new wave of girls, my sister Ambrose is having a girl too and can’t wait for hers.”

You smirked and said, “She’s really excited to go through this with me. Even debating coming out to Canada when we head back for the summer.”

James Falsworth asked, “Why stay in the city while you are carrying so many babies?”

“My courses.” You said, “I’m going to stick in it as far as I can through this semester. Might work it so I can leave a month early, just over four months, so possibly April to June depending on how impatient the girls are they’ll be showing up and the space and quiet will be better for me have them.”

Peggy, “How strenuous are your classes?”

“Not very, a majority of them are on the same campus and the Professors surely will be as accommodating as they keep trying to assure me they will be.”

Jim Morita asked, “What’s it like, being back here, after everything that happened?”

“I think the oddest thing was how everyone had just taken to the new last name. But I think Mama Brock had something to do with that, not to mention the papers.”

Eddie said, “They knew we needed a new name. I think remodeling Bunny’s home settled everything. Let everyone know she’s home in her own building she bought.”

“Technically-,” you tried to cut in only for Victor to cut you off.

“We bought it for you. Your name is on the lease now and when it’s legal it will be the only one on it.”

Peggy, “The whole house?”

James nodded, “Same with the comics and her bank account and just about anything we’re hoarding for the eventual turn over when we can.”

Howard said, “Might take a while to get there.” Though he smirked at the pointed gazes from the brothers around you mingled with Eddie’s unamused brow tick.

“Be a fairly terrifying time for the Starks of the world for me to have my own empire.”

Howard chuckled and fired back, “Oh no, then I might actually have some competition.”

Dum Dum Dugan asked, “What’d you do with the weapon and suits you built?”

“Well I certainly didn’t bring any weapons back from the war aside from a knife James found for me.”

Gabe, “So, what happens if someone shows up on your doorstep wanting those blueprints?”

“I may be pregnant but I can still throw someone around a room,” making the guys chuckle and Peggy smirk to herself.

.

From the party to the house again now with the guys the tour continued with each admiring the pictures you had posted from Steve and Bucky’s trips to shows in murals with ticket stubs and autographs.

Peggy’s focus in a glance to the other room however shifted from Eddie’s smile down at his son. Who was faking claws at the air and snarls that had Venom’s face pop out with a toothy proud grin in a lift of the boy he then lowered to kiss in the return of Venom to sink back again, to the trumpet that sat polished on display. That had you ask, “Do you play an instrument?”

Her eyes met yours and she nodded, “Piano, Mummy insisted. Made Michael keep up with his sax.”

Her grin dimmed and you said with a stroke of your hand on her arm, “Boys rarely stick to practice. Steve missed most of his, though about half came by his passing out or rehearsals that triggered his asthma.”

Pinky asked, “Steve really was this scrawny?”

You nodded, “And he hated every minute of it. Eddie and me used to get a chuckle I might have been bigger than he was in his uniforms. Pre-Captain mode that is.” You paused and asked, “He ever sketch anything? While he was over there?”

“Oh,” Happy Sam Sawyer patted his pockets until he brought out a small journal, “Just a few small sketches, the rest is some sort of scribbles we couldn’t make out.”

Opening the book to one of the notes you snapped it shut saying, “It’s a cipher. You need the source book to translate it. Some boys used to take their notes and read them like they were dirty novels even if they were on toast to taunt them for not having a wider circle.”

James Falsworth asked, “Do you know the source?”

“The Hobbit.”

Jaques, “The bedtime story?”

You nodded, “Funnily enough, I gave Steve the book they used to hide in.”

Jim, “Why not translate it?”

“Oh I can read it, and I don’t think Peggy would appreciate the content.”

Peggy paused a moment then asked, “It’s, about me?”

“Yes,” you said and lifted the book a tad, “And by the notes I am guessing he didn’t get as far as he’s writing about. You could very possibly be flexible but I doubt even then his day dream would be plausible.”

Pinky, “Wait, all you did was glance at the page. How could you read and translate it that fast.”

“Photographic memory, and I can read novels in minutes,” you glanced at Peggy saying, “I’ll read the rest later and if there’s anything less imaginative and respectful I’ll write it out for you.”

She shook her head and said, “I doubt there would be anything sentimental in there. Your brother was not overly expressive of his affection until the drive we took to get him on that plane and the radio transmission afterwards, even then, rather simplistic, trade of a promise then static.”

“Well if I do ever find him wandering around in the afterlife I’ll punch him for that. Downright a crime to not woo you properly.” You teased making her smirk your way.

Jarvis upon return from his third trip to the car gave Howard a nod that had him smile and smooth his hands together, “Gift time!”

“Anything with gems-,”

“And I’m wearing them, I remember.” He said with a smirk guiding you to the front room where you eyed the trio of crib kits that by the brand were expensive and had you in an open mouthed gawk at the smiling inventor, “I won’t accept no for an answer. Only the best for the daughters of our greatest asset for this country’s future.”

“Asset?” you asked.

“You know what I mean,” Howard said. “With your help ladies are set to give us old boys a run for our money.”

Victor, “Why’d you buy three cribs? Must have sparked some rumors with that purchase.”

Jarvis said, “Oh, for that I bear the name on that invoice. Sparing Mrs Stark that scrutiny.”

Howard said, “Though she has seen the catalogs and now is considering children with her husband number two.”

James muttered, “Ouch.”

Howard swatted his hand, “I was a means to irritate Daddy. No matter she’s picked a fine replacement more fit for the suit and tie brigade.” He patted his hand on the crib box closest to him, “Paperwork is nearly done as soon as he finalizes on his house she will pack her things and you will have tons of cover headlines to distract from your lovely little parade of geniuses.”

James, “Least you haven’t broken a sweat over it.”

Howard, “Oh we signed a prenup,” he looked between you both and said, “Which I’m certain you both won’t need.”

Victor, “Oh I’ll kill him before so much as a weekend away comes up to think things over.” Howard chuckled and pointed at him assuming it was a joke only making you smirk behind a stroke of your finger along the side of your nose. Though to a bold set of kicks your hand outstretched and landed on Eddie’s bicep and you let out a sharp breath.

“Ok, I need a minute,” you said in a turn that had him guide you to the nearest bathroom.

Howard looked your back over and James drew his gaze by saying, “They kick and her bladder is almost always trapped in the middle. This the one with the side that comes down or the solid wall model?” That had his grin return in James’ move closer to crouch and look over the diagram on the outside of the box that Victor joined him in inspecting, “Oh this one’s nice. Good solid sides won’t take off a finger if it drops like other models.”

Victor, “We can always make a set of steps if it’s too tall so Pipsqueak can reach inside.”

Jarvis, “Would it prove to be too tall we could purchase another set.”

James shook his head, “Nah, no need. She can adapt. Doubt she’d accept the second set.”

Victor, “Or even let you up the stoop with it.”

Howard, “What about Canada, you need a set there.”

James smirked, “We’ve already built a set for home, Jaqi helped with the finer touches but let us cover the basics off our experience for what would be the safest designs.”

Howard said, “Wow, you sound like you’ve been through the whole parenting schtick before.”

He didn’t need the answer in their telling continued silent stares at him till one of the guys smiled and said to you in your return, “Your hubby says it’s a safe model.”

“Even if it wasn’t the guys can easily make some changes in the install. Should be nice, I do like the round half circle top to the ends, could have some nice crochet covers from Gina. Maybe a nice quilt too for the bed the Brocks can fix up for us. One of the cousins do enjoy stuffing them.” You looked to Howard and said, “Thank you, Howard. Now, no more gifts.”

He scoffed at that and rolled his eyes only making Jarvis say, “I will do my best to remind him of that, Mrs Pear Howlett.”

“No jewelry,” you said to Howard as a flat rule that deepened his smirk in your knowing he would find a way to shower funds onto your family he’d now spread a sort of fondness onto even more so upon discovery of the link between you and his major successful project your brother turned out to be.

Dawn broke the circle by calling everyone in for tea that let you all relax in the living room until the group all had to leave with promises to come back again. Though in their absence relief came from not having the presence of questions on your lost brother and the fact that you now could have that much needed pear you had been forced to put off until the lunch that was readied upon the moment of freedom.

Straight on to bed comfort was found in solace lounged in James’ side reading off tidbits from the stack of history books Elliot had been dropping off weekly to guide you by century and culture to feed the growing appetite for reading that your pregnancy was enhancing. Mixed between those were journals from those of the Beserkers who had lived through those times including the few saved items from assumed lost libraries wars had threatened and been recorded to have destroyed. All of which could only aid in the growth of your mind, though every bit of it seemed to be familiar, a notion that pleased both him and Herc that old memories were being tapped of a time when you were present there as well to observe those moments throughout history even with your physical being in hiding.

.

“Odd,” you muttered in smoothing your hands over your chosen shirt to have been stolen from James’ side of the closet along with his flannels you’d adjusted the hem and waistband to a tie instead of the usual buttons he agreed upon so that you would be comfortable on nights you wanted to wear pants until yours could fit again.

“Odd?” James asked having lit the fire in your bedroom to the sound of the wind outside picking up to cover the street with the thin layer of snow forecast that would enforce the use of Victor’s car that was promised to you to prevent threat of slipping upon travel to Columbia and back again.

In a shake of your head you moved to the bed and folded back the covers, only luring him closer with head tilted slightly to the side. Softly in a sigh you replied mid lift of your leg to kneel on the bed to begin the crawl to the middle, or at least as close to it as possible while still remaining close to the edge in case of bathroom trips. “Power’s gonna go out.”

“Well with the wind like this, not far from imaginable.” His eyes looked over your face in his move closer when you sat down readying to arrange the pillows to perfect the spot for you. “Unless there’s more to it?”

“I can feel it. In the power lines. But the storm isn’t near as bad enough to shut it off. We’ve had worse storms than this.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s,” you sighed again, “You remember that storm out in Palermo where the lightning kept circling over the ocean and it was so close it had your hair on end?”

He nodded, “So it’s like a static?”

“Something like that. Soft fizzle like soda bubbles travel through the wires. Just odd.”

“Well you won’t be cold, and breakfast will be easily fixed up even without lights.” He said in the motions to help tuck you into the comfy nest that he snuggled closer to your back with a shrug of the blankets higher over you both. “Don’t you worry.”

“Just hope it doesn’t get too cold for Whiskers.”

That had him smirk and settle his head behind yours on the pillow, “Furnace is powered on gas, won’t go out with the electric, same as the cabin. Whiskers will be perfectly warm and thanks to your metal layer inside the walls all our pipes are extra insulated. We won’t let our house go cold.” After a moment his hand covered yours and he hummed, “We all promised to keep him and the puppies warm and safe, we won’t go back on that.”

Mid yawn you started to say, “He has a schedule to keep,” which only had him chuckle to himself and close his eyes to the inch of your body back into his chest.

Pt 53

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess​, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​​, 

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @changlingkhat​

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam​​, @swoopswishsward​

[allandoflimbo]

Bad Guy

Summary: You experience another night out in your new hometown. One that has you reaching for a drink, and maybe ending with a certain someone between your legs.

Warnings: Drinking, cursing, and (mild, well for me) fucking.

A/N: This is a submisstion for @amanda-teaches​ 2k Writer + Reader Challenge. My prompt was “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.” This was really fun to write. Thank you for letting me participate in this! And I hope you really enjoy this one. :) It’s pretty light hearted. As most of you know, I will no longer post my writing on Tumblr, i’ll just be sticking to my other platforms now. If you wanna check me out i’ll be on AO3, mostly. This is my final closing. :)

The night was turning crisp, a heavy contrast to what it had been that afternoon. 

It had been humid and overbearingly hot; too scorching for a late August summer. 

It was around six o’clock when the temperature had dropped a sudden ten degrees. Now it was pleasant, and those that had hidden away all day in their air conditioned homes, finally decided to venture out into the cooling air. 

There was an intense misconception about New York City that not many understood, not until they experienced it first hand, at least.

Sure, it was beautiful in its bright lights and air that seemed to ooze hope for everyone’s future. It gave off a vibe that made you admit, that yeah, it kind of was like the movies. 

Except that it wasn’t.

From afar, it was quite the spectacular, but as you narrowed down and took a closer look, you’d see it for what it really was.

The brownstone buildings that housed the speakeasies and restaurants on the ground floor; they were beautiful, surly. 

So were the homes across the streets, with their lights still on.

 The streets, they were nice too. 

People stood all around, greeting new friends and old ones, talking about which place they would go to next or which bar.

You liked the village. It had its pros and cons, but at the end of the day, you were glad you settled for that fifteen hundred dollar studio on the first floor. 

It had a nice view of the deli and the prestigious restaurant across the street, and it was a brownstone.

Yeah, all of that was really nice.

Except when you took a closer look and realized that even the prettiest of things had its faults.

Those streets filled with smiles and laughter also had trash bags piled up every ten feet and on every corner. 

Those restaurants and speakeasies - the brownstones were older so the walls outside the building were washed out, aged. 

The air also had a strange, but yet addicting, smell. 

It was a mixture of all the restaurants around mixed with booze. 

The stairs that led down into the restaurant entrances were old and rusted. 

The ATMs that lounged outside each one - because that’s right, most of them only take fucking cash - six out of ten of them were always out of service and served as nothing but mediocre décor next to the window. 

Heavy graffiti lined their sides.

The doors to the restaurants were older, too. Some of them never even closed properly or were too damn heavy.

And your apartment...it was perfect. 

You’d have to settle into become a minimalist to even fit your bed inside. 

The flooring was also old and scratched and the walls needed a new paint job. But it wasn’t too bad. It could’ve been worst.

But you loved it. 

You loved the feeling of the city around you, and you loved how you had made your new friends so easily after moving in from your old home in little ole’ Ohio. 

You loved going to bed being able to hear the life outside, the laughters and sound of people making new memories and falling in love.

And those restaurants and speakeasies that looked flawed up close, they were anything but inside.

The owners  were always so imaginative. The lighting was always warm, there were always people inside enjoying life and the food- in every single one of them.

Because, that’s right, all their food were good food.

New York City was beautifully flawed. 

It was just what you were looking for.

You think this to yourself for the hundredth time since you moved here as you walk down the street towards a new bar you hadn’t been to yet.

You pass by locals as well as tourists and it’s nice. 

You’re about to cross the street when you see a couple getting out of their little apartment. 

Your heart warms as you see the man take the girl’s hand in his, both of them giggling as they prepare for a night out of making memories.

You feel your phone vibrate as you arrive to the other side of the intersection. 

You hear a car horn in the distant and a nice summer breeze blow in through your hair.

You open your lock screen.

Nat

You here yet?

You quickly type away a message while also trying to avoid walking into others coming in the opposite direction as you.

You hold tighter onto your bag as it bumps into a girl, your small heels clacking beneath your feet. 

You open your map to see the distance of the location and then reply back to her.

I’m a block away.

You see it from where you’re standing and it had it a decent sized line to get inside. 

Budapëis

It read in white letters on the blackout windows.

You sped up a bit as you got closer, your excitement growing in your belly.

It doesn’t take much longer after you’ve been in line to realize it was actually moving pretty quickly.

A larger and dark man greets you at the entrance and you hand him your ID which he quickly scans. He gives it back to you and you thank him.

Inside the bar was loud. The people chatted away happily and the music thrummed in your bones. It was also very dark, the only light being the orange glows of the candles on some of the tables and the dimmed warm lights hanging above.

You watched as the cute male bartenders worked proficiently and sync, but also making sense to make small talk with each client as much as they could over the loud noise. 

A girl says excuse me but still manages to nudge into you.

Spinning your head around, you realize there are no more seats left to sit and it makes sense why half of the people were all standing around and huddled like cattle.

Oh boy.

You feel a tug on your arm and you spin around to see Nat holding a Martini in her right hand, her left arm going in for an immediate hug.

“You made it!” She says.

“Of course!” You hope she can hear you.

She pulls away and tugs you towards her, “Come on, we’re all in the back.”

You let her lead you to the “back” which is really just a small space in the corner of the bar. 

You immediately recognize Steve, Sam, and Wanda from afar.

“Oh, hey, you made it!” Steve yells, grabbing you in a tight hug.

“Hey, Y/N” “Oh, hey.” Sam and Wanda greet you.

“Hi, sorry I took a bit long. I was doing laundry.”

“Ha.” Sam snorts out loud, “come on you need a drink.” He adds.

“I will, I will —“ you dart your eyes to his own cup and point, “what’s that?”

“New York sour. Tastes like shit. Wanna try?” He says way too excitedly.

“Sure.” He hands you his glass and you take a sip.

You barely have the tip of the glass all the way out of your mouth when a body hits you on your side, making you stumble. 

The drink doesn’t spill crazily, but it’s enough to get on your hand and to leave it sticky, leaving you annoyed. 

You’re also not too fond of the face full of hair you just got and the elbow that keeps nudging into the side of your rips.

You stumble a few centimeters to the left, because seriously, it’s not like you have an option right now.

You look over to the girl who is now laughing and talking exceptionally loud with Nat and all your friends.

Did they really not see that? 

But you wouldn’t blame them, there was barely any light in the place anyway. 

If it weren’t for Sam reaching over the girl’s head to grab your glass, you’d be certain he had forgotten all about you.

You hand it back, cringing as you try not to elbow the girl in the face. 

Sure, she was rude, but you weren’t going to return that sentiment. 

“What’d you think, Y/N?” Sam shouts to you.

It’s then, finally, when the girl looks over at you. 

She was drop dead gorgeous. At least 5’9. Her hair was a natural light brown and her eyes a piercing green.

Clearly a model trying to make it big in the city.

Her face is emotionless at first but then she attempts a smile. 

You feel awkward under her gaze, awaiting an apology when Sam pulls you around. 

“Come on, lets get ya something good.” He says, dragging you the bar.

You follow him until you’re at the side of the counter closest to when you first came in.

You sigh, already dreading this night, when you overhear Sam ordering two shots of tequila and two lemons.

“Me and you, y/l/n.” He says, taking the glass from the cute bartender.

Sam hands you the shot and you both countdown together before taking it simultaneously. 

You chase it with the lemon, and okay yeah, you feel a little bit better.

“Glad we finally got ya out to a real bar.” Sam smiles.

You shrug.

“It’s been a while. Been busy trying to work, book places.”

“Oh, yeah, what is it that you do again?”

“I’m a singer, Sam. Whole reason I came from Ohio. Hello?”

He shoots you an infectious grin.

“I know, I’m just messing with you.”

You sigh. 

Sometimes you did feel like people forgot though, especially in a city with 8 million other people trying to reach the same dream as you.

You hang around your friends for a bit longer, finally, finally getting the opportunity to wish Nat a happy birthday.

It must’ve been about an hour now later and you’re glad that one girl was gone. 

Whoever she was.

“Is Bucky still coming?” Sam asks randomly out loud.

“He said he would get here as soon as he was done with his shift.” Steve mumbles, looking down at his phone, a glass filled with amber alcohol in his other hand.

“Shocked he’s taking so long. Wonder if he knows Aubrey is here.” Sam says.

“He’s an ass. And a whore. He knows.” Nat screams over to the guys.

You look over at Nat and Wanda and you see them already out of it giggling while looking at some guys’ Instagram feed.

“I’m gonna get another drink.” You announce.

“Hell yeah you are, y/l/n!” Sam yells with a wink.

Steve elbows him in the side.

“Stop peer pressuring her.” He says.

“I’m not, she just needs to let loose—“ he voice fades as you walk away. 

You sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted. You contemplated ordering some fries or maybe mozzarella sticks.

You fold your arms onto the cold counter, waiting for the bartender to give you his full attention. 

It takes a bit with the amount of people he’s serving along with the other bartender.

Finally he looks over at you and he smiles bright. 

God, so cute.

You lean your head on your hand.

“Hi, can I have a gin and tonic?”

He taps the table top.

“Sure thing.” You watch his arms flexing as he makes your drink. 

Mmm.

He slides it to you with a wink.

“You on a tab?”

You tell him Nat’s name and everything necessary and he nods. 

You sip your drink, letting the music drown and numb you along with the alcohol. Your finger trails the condensation on the glass gingerly.

“Hey, man.”

A soothing voice comes up next to you, greeting the bartender.

The bartender’s face lights up.

“No, way. Finally out of his damn shell.” The bartender greets him with a over hand handshake.

You slide over to the side a bit, giving them some space. 

The man next to you orders a drink, giving the bartender his card and requesting a tab.

You feel the heat of his presence as he leans on his own arms  over the counter right next to you, and you can’t help smelling the delicious smell of cologne wafting off his body. 

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol but you feel yourself biting on your bottom lip, and sticking your ass in the air, still dragging your hand up and down the glass. 

But this time on purpose.

It doesn’t work.

You look over to take a look at the man in question and you swoon.

His dark brown hair was begging to be pulled and he had the softest of scruff on his face. 

He wore a black leather jacket and jeans and shoes that looked way too expensive. 

You drag your eyes back up his body to see a smirk, and fuck, he’s looking straight at you.

Those eyes. They were so blue.

You blush faintly, turning back to your glass and taking another sip.

You know he’s still there, eyes stilling lingering on you.

He takes his drink and then clears his throat.

You’re expecting him to say something when he leaves.

Your smile fades and you feel a weird emptiness. Rejection? 

No that couldn’t be it. 

You’re finishing your drink when your eyes drift back up to your friends.

Sam, Steve, Wanda, and Nat are all smiling. 

But then Steve is smiling more and the commotion is even bigger as they spin around.

You perk a brow as you watch the man that was just next to you a few moments ago greet your friends.

Was that Bucky? The infamous asshole?

He was beautiful. 

Of course he was. 

You try to compose yourself before walking back over to your friends.

Sam looks at you disappointed, eyes darting to your empty hands.

“I thought you were getting a drink.”

“I already drunk it, dumbass.”

“Why drink there, drink here.”

You chuckle, your eyes darting to Bucky briefly who eyes you for a moment making a connection.

His friends were your friends too.

There was something strange the entire time, about the connection in the air between you two. 

It must’ve been the alcohol. He was way out of your league. 

But you didn’t understand the asshole your friends were talking about. Well, not that you really knew him that much anyway.

As you pretend to be intrigued in your conversation with Nat and Wanda, yours was actually focused on Bucky.

It’s like you both are playing a playful game of who can catch the other looking first. 

You find yourself licking your lip...twirling your hair around your finger…

You swear he’s staring at your finger. 

God, what was happening to you?

“Hey, babe!”

You heart Plummets into your stomach as you see the same girl from before (the one who spilled the drink on you) wrapping her arms around Bucky’s neck and oh yeah, she’s definitely sticking her tongue down his throat.

You feel your heart in your stomach and the strong taste of the gin in your mouth.

He pulls away with a moan and a slight grimace.

“Hey, Aubrey. What are you doing here?” 

His hands go to her arms, prying her off of him.

“I came with a few friends and ran into yours. You haven’t been answering any of my messages.”

“Yeah, we broke up, remember?”

Everyone’s attention is now to Bucky and Aubrey as they watch their interaction.

“But come on, just one more night, one more good fuck for all times sake.”

A heavy snicker leaves your throat, but you quickly try to disguise it by pretending to wipe your mouth. 

The girl’s head spins towards you and she peaking a brow at you.

She quickly ignores you and turns back to Bucky.

“Come on, Bucky.”

Bucky looks over it.

“Aubrey, Aubrey stop.” He says seriously.

She pulls back from him and they stare at each other for a moment longer before she scoffs and spins on her heel.

You turn away from the scene, suddenly needing another drink or at least some fresh air.

You settle for the latter, telling your friends you’d be right back.

You settle to lean back against the brick wall of the bar, taking in the sweet smell of a summer night.

The contrast of the silence outside felt amazing your ears, and the small amount of alcohol in your system only made it better.

You cursed yourself for being a horny little freak. But you chuckle to yourself as you pull out your phone. You couldn’t help that you needed physical attention.

You’re skimming through your emails when you feel someone next to you. You look up to see Bucky, his left shoulder leaning on the wall right next to you.

You find yourself smiling at his little smirk and you bite your bottom lip, looking away.

“You were trying to get my attention so bad before, and now you don’t want to talk?” He asks playfully.

You shake your head, but you still have a smile on your face.

You feel your cheeks grow hot.

“Wow, seriously?” “Am I wrong?”

You think about your answer as you continue to look through your emails, except at this point you were just trying to look like you were.

“No, but that was before I realized who you were.”

His smiled slides off slowly.

“What do you mean?” 

You finally decide to put your phone away and you spin around to look at him, now face to face.

The look in his eyes are intense and you find yourself blushing. You knew all these things about him, but yet he had this aura about him, almost like everyone else was wrong.

Your eyes dart from his eyes and to his lips.

“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.” You say quietly.

When he doesn’t say anything, you look back up until your eyes meet.

“Are they wrong?” He asks.

Your perk a brow at his answer.

“I—I don’t know.” 

He chuckles.

“Exactly.”

You nod, pushing yourself off the wall. You take a deep breath, looking at the people on the street.

“It’s getting late, I should get going.”

Bucky nods, still not moving from his spot.

“Okay, yeah.”

You stay glued to where you are, your eyes darting back to his.

“Yeah.” You repeat back.

You watch as the tip of his tongue licks his lips. You feel the heat in your core and you feel the heavy beating in your chest.

“Do you live close by?” He asks huskily, looking over your shoulder.

____

You don’t know how it happened, but one minute he had you up against the public hallway wall of your apartment building - where literally anyone could see you - and the next he was pushing your jeans passed down your hips in your living room.

You groaned as your lips connected again, and as you pulled on his hair again.

He cursed into your lips as he cupped your center, feeling how wet you already were for him. 

You whimpered as he rubbed small circles over your clit, before finally inserting his finger deep inside of you.

He pushed you down onto your bed, his left hand still fucking you. You lifted your left leg onto the bed and he groaned into your mouth as he quickened the pace of his hand. 

You threw your head back, moaning.

You felt your desire quickly dissipate as he pulled away from you.

Bucky chuckled at your whine, but your disappointment was short lived as your watched him pull his shirt and jeans off.  

You did the same with your own top and then your bra.

He was on you in a hot second, capturing your lips in a long kiss that had your toes curling against your blanket.

When he pulled away you were captivated by how delicious he looked. You also couldn’t help but swoon at the look he had in his eyes. 

Endearment? You weren’t sure.

Your fingers trail over the side of his face as he continues to stare down at you.

“I’m not the bad guy,” he kisses you. He slides into you with a grunt, “I swear, I’m not him.” He kisses you again.

Your hook your left leg over his hip, pulling him in deeper into your hot core.

You pull away from his mouth, your left hand going down to his stomach.

“Fuck. Fuck.” You pant heavily. It felt too good too fast and you know he felt it too as he stretched his forearms on either side of your head.

A long whimper leaves his lips as he sets a faster pace, fucking you into your bed.

He almost looses it completely when he feels you reaching down to rub at your clit, your fingers hitting the base of his cock and his little hairs.

You feel your pussy tightening around him and you know you’re so damn close.

“Yeah, come on, baby. That’s it.” He coaxes you, panting desperately into the crook of your neck.

You feel the fire burning in the pit of your tummy and you know that with a few more thrusts and a few more rubs on your clit that you were done for.

The sounds in your little apartment were filthy. You could hear his hips snapping against yours and both of your groans.

He slowed down his pace as you felt yourself come undone.

“Shit, I’m cumming.” You tell him through gritted teeth, your face only millimeters from his.

He has a wicked smirk on his face and some of his sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead.

“Me too, fuck, I’m cumming, too.” He says.

You scream as you pulse around his hard cock, not missing the way his own eyes squeeze together, a strong grunt leaving his mouth.

His hips slow down to a stop and when you open your eyes again, he’s already staring down at you.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” You say, running your hand through his hair.

Bucky chuckles as he leans forward to leave a kiss on your collarbone.

[adenil-umano]

12 Days of Spones Day 2: Blue

[Read on AO3]

Spock stepped off the bus gingerly to avoid the grey slush coating the street. He knew that just two hundred years ago the Georgia air would still be warm from the day, but Earth’s climate change had not been kind to the southern United States. It was a frigid and dirty snow which clung to every surface. Salt crystals cracked beneath his boots as he walked. The sidewalk was near-deserted--it was, after all, nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, and Spock was in a town with a population of just six-hundred.

If Spock had any doubts over whether or not the humans here celebrated the holiday they were easily laid to rest by the sight of raggedy wreaths and dingy tinsel wrapped around the light poles. It may have been silver, once, but now it was a faded grey. Occasionally the wind plucked free a single leaf of tinsel and carried it away. Ahead of him, the fuzzy gleam of a red neon light declared the bar OPEN. 

He tugged his knit cap tighter around his ears and pushed his way in. Immediately, his senses were assailed by the scent of stale beer and the not-so-dulcet tones of canned Christmas music trickling out of the staticy speakers. Spock scanned the bar and a rumpled man with wavy brown hair and a wrinkled blue shirt caught his eye.

He slid onto the stool two seats away from the man. It was best not to seem too eager, at least not before he had found out whether this was the man he sought. He ordered a whisky, neat, because that seemed like the sort of thing one drunk in a bar like this.

Spock sat nursing his drink for a few minutes with his ears perked for any sound. Even through the wool covering them and the grating sounds of holiday music he could hear the man muttering to himself.

“Damned thing...was just a little late...Needs to get that stick removed.” He took a long swig and slammed his empty glass down. “That man will never be father to my daughter.”

While no one was looking Spock leaned over the bar and dumped out his drink into the sink. With his glass empty he slid one seat closer to the man and said, “May I buy you a drink? You appear to need one.”

The man squinted up at him, pale blue eyes hazy, his mouth pursed in a sour line. “What’s it to you?”

“We are both here suffering alone tonight,” Spock said. “Perhaps we could suffer together?”

The man grunted. He waved over the bartender and indicated Spock with his hand. “He’s buying.”

Spock ordered two whiskeys. He took a sip of his, watching the man carefully. Was this really the man he sought? “You may call me Grayson.”

“McCoy. Leonard McCoy. Friends call me Blue.”

“Blue?”

Perhaps he had allowed too much of his incredulity to become evident in his voice, because the man turned a piercing glare towards him. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, it is only…” He should have been Bones. “You are not a doctor?”

“What? What the hell?” He pushed away from the bar, standing on unsteady feet as if ready to fight. “Who the hell are you?”

“I apologize,” Spock said quickly. “It is only--I had heard of a Doctor McCoy in this town.”

He held very, very still, blinking at Spock with drunken anger. After a tense moment his shoulders slumped and he crawled back onto the barstool. “That was my father. I’m no doctor.”

“I see.” He waited until the man had calmed down to ask, “Then, may I call you Blue?”

“We ain’t friends.”

Spock nodded and went back to nursing his whiskey. He should leave now that it was clear this wasn’t who he sought, but something enticed him to say. Perhaps it was the smoky haze that permeated the room, or the waves of despair rolling off of the man beside him. They drank together in silence and Spock ordered another round. He was human enough to begin feeling the effects of the first drink, and judging by  his companion’s slump the other  man was well on his way to passing out.

“Perhaps you should have a glass of water?”

“Shut up,” he said, knocking back the rest of his whisky with nary a wince. “We ain’t friends, and you ain’t my wife, either.”

“Then perhaps you can consider me a concerned stranger.” He waved over the bartender and ordered two waters.

The man grumbled but took a gulp, crunching loudly on ice. He slid his gaze over to Spock and seemed to be looking at him for the first time. His eyes roamed unsteadily up Spock’s lanky form, paused for a moment near his neck, and then fixated on his knit hat.

“Your momma never teach you not to wear a hat indoors?”

“Indeed, she did not.”

He harrumphed. “Explains why you’re so damned impolite.”

“It is colder here than I expected.”

“Always cold this time of year. Our own personal micro-climate.” His blue eyes dropped to meet Spock’s gaze. They held there a moment, suspended, and for a moment Spock saw clarity in his gaze. Perhaps he was the  man Spock sought? Then he looked away, back to his water. “Guess you don’t have anyone to celebrate the night with.”

“I do not celebrate Christmas. But as a general point you are correct. I am alone here.”

“Figured. No one who ends up here has any other place to be.” He was slumping further into his seat. “Only people here are the folks who’ve had everything taken from them. It’s just one damned thing after another. Can’t go out the front door without someone taking your shoes.”

Spock glanced down. “Your shoes do appear to be intact.”

“Yeah, well. I had to fight for them.” He finished the last of his water and stood, listing heavily to one side. He moved to pat Spock’s shoulder and missed, making contact on the second try. “Thanks for the drink, stranger.”

Spock watched the man wobble from the bar, worry forming at the sight of him going off into the cold night. He considered his options and covertly checked his watch. He still had a few hours before he needed to check in, so Spock paid his tab and followed Blue outside.

It had started to snow light, dry flakes that squeaked when he walked. He spotted the man a block away stumbling down the street, his hair gleaming under the artificial yellow glow of the street lamps. He didn’t even have a jacket, Spock realized, and he hastened to catch up.

The man glanced at him as he came alongside. “You following me or somethin’?”

“I was concerned for your safety. You are not in possession of all your faculties at the moment.”

“When am I ever?” he grumbled. He turned away again and stumbled. Spock shot out a hand to catch him, holding fast to his arm and keeping him steady. The man squinted at him again. “You are a strange one.”

He found himself lost in Blue’s eyes, searching near-frantically for some sign, some faint hint that this could be the one he needed. “...You are also strange,” he said after far too much silence.

Blue frowned but he didn’t pull away. He leaned into Spock’s grasp. “If you’re gonna be weird at least be a gentleman and walk me home. It’s that way.”

Spock followed his point and began walking into the darkness with Blue leaning heavily against him. He could feel Blue’s lightness, all the places where he was too thin and too broken. Blue turned his head and breathed out warm air against Spock’s neck and Spock felt his skin pebble in response. He had a sense-memory, then, of carrying Leonard over some alien landscape. What planet had that been? How long ago was that? Leonard had been injured and bleeding, and Spock had felt that tight knot of fear in his side.

The house was just outside of town, ramshackle and lopsided. It had come off its foundation by nearly a foot. The porch light was burnt out but Blue led him up the front stops with relative ease, stopping in front of the door to fish his keys out of his pocket.

Spock hung back, uncertain, as Blue unlocked the door and pushed it open. He didn’t go inside right away. Instead, he reached back with one hand, groping towards Spock without looking at him.

“Grayson?”

“I am here.”

He reached out and their hands met. Blue’s shoulders slumped. “...You wanna come in for a cup of coffee?”

Spock hesitated, knowing enough about Earth culture to understand a euphemism when he heard one. “I do not wish to take advantage of you.”

“You could. If you wanted.” The man turned to face him then, his gaze matter-of-fact. “But if you don’t want to, you don’t want to. Just keep me company, stranger.”

Spock followed him inside. 

He stood in the small kitchen with its cracked tile floor and watched the man brew a pot of coffee. It was late--or rather, early now--but Spock’s body wouldn’t react to the caffeine regardless. They sat together on the couch, and Spock enjoyed the warmth of the coffee. The house was cool and drafty. It was an excuse, at least, to keep his hat on.

“Why’re you here?” the man asked after a while of silence.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“I mean, here. In this podunk little town drinking whiskey at the worst bar in available. You’re clearly not from around here.”

“No. I am from...far away from here.”

“So? Why here?”

“I was looking for something. For someone.”

He sipped his coffee. “For Doctor McCoy.”

“...Yes.”

“Sorry to be the one to tell you this, but my Dad’s been dead for years.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

He leaned his head back against the couch, his blue eyes slipping shut. “You one of his old patients?”

“No. I am...merely an admirer of Doctor McCoy’s work.”

He hummed.

They sat in silence for a while, finishing their coffees. When they were done Blue set aside his mug. He slid closer to Spock and pulled the mug from his fingers, setting it aside as well. Spock watched curiously as the man slid a little closer still, his head tipping to one side. Spock’s heart beat against his side. How long had it been?

Leonard--Blue tasted of coffee and whisky. His lips were rough and chapped, but warm. The contact ripped a terrible sound from Spock, deep and animalistic, and he grabbed Blue’s shoulders to hold him close. It was the same; it was the same. 

Blue climbed into his lap and Spock opened up beneath him. He let Blue kiss him senseless, lick into his mouth and trace his teeth. He let Blue tug his shirt up to untuck it, found himself arching into the contact of those skilled hands against his stomach. This man should have been a surgeon, in this world and every other. 

Spock felt a hand on his neck, a single finger tracing the edge of his knit cap and treading dangerously close to his ears. He pulled away and stilled Blue’s hands.

“I am sorry,” Spock said thickly.

“C’mon,” Blue murmured, his voice all southern-charm and unkept promises. “I’m not that drunk. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

Spock gulped. “I-I cannot.”

Blue sighed and slid off Spock’s lap, landing in a rumpled heap on the far end of the couch. Spock wanted him back immediately. It was selfish, he knew, to desire that warmth and that familiarity from a man who was nothing like the one he’d lost. 

“You got a place to stay?” Blue asked after right himself.

“No. I was merely passing through. I’ll be gone before morning.”

Blue didn’t seem to find that odd. He picked at the hem of his shirt, looked sideways at their empty coffee mugs. “I got a bed. I won’t try any funny business, just...These winter nights are cold.”

“Yes,” Spock breathed, falling in love again despite himself. “They are. Quite cold.”

He let Blue pull him to his feet. Followed him down the narrow hallway to the single room where an unmade bed greeted them. Blue struggled out of his shoes and Spock slipped off his boots. He followed the man under the covers, let those arms encase him. He pulled Blue close and shivered as Blue’s cold nose pressed against his neck. 

“Mm,” Blue murmured. “Knew you’d be warm…”

Spock held him tightly. “I would not want you to catch a chill.”

He chuckled, low and sweet. “How kind of you.

Blue relaxed in slow increments. He was nearly asleep when he spoke again. “That name…”

“Yes?”

“Grayson. That ain’t your real name, is it?”

“No. It is not.”

Blue hummed. “That’s okay,” he murmured. “Sometimes I feel like my name ain’t right either.”

Spock hugged him as he fell asleep, absorbing the gentle rhythm of his breathing. Around them, the Earth continued to spin, but for a few moments all Spock knew was the weight of this man against him, the pleasure of this transient closeness.

As the clock passed four a.m., Spock disentangled himself. Quietly, he slipped on his boots and made his way back into the living room. He held up his watch and fiddled with the buttons, inputting the “all clear” code. 

“Mr. Spock to Mr. Scott. Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Mr. Spock.” Mr. Scott’s voice was small and tinny through the watch’s speakers. 

“This is my 24-hour check in. No unusual circumstances to report. No side effects felt from travel.”

“Did you locate the anomaly?”

Spock looked back down the hallway. He’d left the door ajar and he could see just the tips of Blue’s fingers hanging over the edge of the bed. 

“I did, yes.”

“Is he our man?” Mr. Scott asked hopefully.

“No,” Spock said. “I’m afraid he is not what we’re looking for.”

“Ah, a shame. Well, I’ve got the coordinates for the next jump already calculated if you’re ready to come back.”

He wasn’t ready, probably would never be ready. But duty called. “Yes. I am prepared for transport.”

As the transporter whine took him he saw Blue’s hand shift against the bedspread searchingly, as if looking for something. Or someone. There was a faint sound, barely perceptible over the transporter beam, and he could almost trick himself into believing it was Leonard calling to him.

“Spock?”

Spock closed his eyes tightly and felt the cold melt away.

[captcas]

Worth Fighting For (11/?)

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5 / ch 6 / ch 7 / ch 8 / ch 9 / ch 10 [Chapter 11/?] 

As fast as her smile faded, Emma’s mask slips back on and she answers for him, “Mr. Jones was unaware of this development and will not be answering any further questions.

She turns away from the reporters, each of them arguing with her decision, but Killian knows better than to question her right now. He gives them all a wink to stay “in character” and turns to follow Emma– scratch that, chase after Emma. She’s practically at a dead sprint, and he’s trying to keep up with her while simultaneously calling them a car. It’s not until she’s out of the stadium that she finally stops, taking a deep breath of fresh air and pacing. He reaches out towards her, words of worry on his tongue when she turns towards him. He drops his hand to his side. “Not here. I will explain, but not here.” He nods, unsure of how else to help excluding pulling her into his arms which he’s not entirely sure would help the situation at all. Luckily the car arrives quickly and they’re on the road without further incident.

Emma doesn’t speak for the entire ride back to the hotel.  

Or for the next forty-five minutes as they nurse seperate tumblers of rum at the dimly lit hotel bar.

Killian is desperately curious as to just who this Neal fellow is, but resists the urge to privately google him. Emma deserves to tell him why she reacted that way— who Neal is to her— if that’s what she wishes. He absent-mindedly watches the recap of the fights on SportsCenter as Emma practically chews a hole through her bottom lip pausing only to take a sip from her glass. He can’t help but stare, even visibly perplexed in horrible lighting Emma is the most radiant woman he’s ever seen. She catches him looking and meets his eye before he can shy away. Emma sighs, finishing the rest of her rum and signaling for another, before turning to Killian, “I suppose I should start at the beginning…”

He can tell she’s nervous and attempts to lighten the mood, “Aye, lass, that’s usually where all tales begin.” He winks and she cracks a small smile disrupted only by a larger sigh than the first.

“I was 18, just started training at the UFC gym on a scholarship for athletics I received in high school. It was technically supposed to go towards college but that wasn’t really my thing. It didn’t take very long for me to realize I was good… really good. Gold wanted me on Contender Series almost immediately and my career jump started before I could say ‘Ultimate Fighting’. Well, the higher ups weren’t the only ones who noticed.” Emma pauses. Killian wants to ask so many questions, but is nervous to break the very thin thread of trust they’re walking right now. He nods slightly so she knows he’s listening and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

“He was older and already established in the league. He– he took me under his wing and showed me the ropes– media, fight nights, training, all that. Neal was my best friend…” She hesitates again and Killian uses every ounce of willpower not to grab her hand. “...and then he was more than that. We were always so careful but he had just won a huge fight and even got the Fight of the Night bonus. A little drunk– and not just on adrenaline– shit happens.” Emma hangs her head in her hands and Killian starts to put two and two together.

“Henry…” It comes out in a whisper, and entirely by accident. Emma’s eyes meet his and he expects anger but he just sees relief– he understands.

“Nothing gets past you.” She says it half joking and through the sting of rum, but he knows this is further in her story than she would usually dare to  go. “Found out I was pregnant with his kid as his career was gaining momentum and that was that. I also found out he’d been betting on my fights based off what I told him in training and winning a shitload of money. So for whichever reason— maybe a combination of both— he left, blocked my number, and I was left with a positive pregnancy test and an empty apartment. It sucked, but it wasn’t long before I decided I was better without him. I left the sport and the minute I looked into Henry’s eyes, I knew I’d never be back in that ring.”

Killian has never wanted to knock someone out more. He can feel his fist clenching and tries to stop his jaw from tightening. Killian tries to tell himself that it’s not his place to be angry over something that happened to Emma– his heart doesn’t seem to care. “You didn’t deserve that, Swan.”

Emma nods. “I know that– now. I’ve come to terms with it.”

“Pardon my forwardness, love, but if your reaction back there is any indication I’d say that’s not true.” She goes to argue and he raises his hand to continue, “Not that I would blame you. I like a right crack at the bloke…”

Emma bursts out laughing, interrupting him. “Well, it appears you’re going to get your chance, Jones. And I am over it, just… wasn’t expecting the question– or you to be fighting him.”

Killian must give a questioning look because she sighs once more, “He’s been out of the league for awhile, working behind the scenes with his dad I’d imagine…”

“I’m sorry, love, his dad?”

“Gold.” The hair on the back of his neck stands up, realizing how deep Neal Cassidy’s blood runs in the league– clearly the reason he ran.

“Ah. Well, Swan, I promise to give him hell in that octagon.” Killian tries to make a joke but Emma is clearly still weighed down by something.

“Henry doesn’t know.”

There it is.

“He knows his dad is somehow connected to all this but he doesn’t know it’s Neal.”

“Why haven’t you told him?” Killian asks the question before he can second guess himself.

“I signed a NDA when Henry was born. Neal gave up his rights and I gave up child support and the right to tell Henry who his real father was. Once he turns 18, Henry can do whatever he wants, but I can’t— and don’t want to— tell him.”

“I would very much like to meet this Neal outside of the octagon.” She doesn’t need him to protect her, but he’ll gladly kick the arse of a man as despicable as that.

“You and me both.” She ends the conversation with that statement. Ordering one more round for the two of them and turning towards the TV. Killian doesn’t pry; grateful for her trust. They chat about nothing, but Killian doesn’t miss the slight touches of her hand or the way her smile finally reaches her eyes. He can’t be sure, but it’s almost as if sharing her story took some of the weight off her shoulders; her past easier to carry on four shoulders rather than two.

Killian is more than happy to share the burden.

. . .

Emma feels lighter, maybe even happier. She never intended on sharing her story with Killian but now that it’s out in the open she feels like the wall she was so certain would remain between the two of them has crumbled. She finds herself longing for small touches and even stealing small flirtatious glances. She’d have to be an idiot not to notice that Killian was sending them right back at her.

This is uncharted territory.

As they walk back to the hotel room, both slightly tipsy, the energy is reminiscent of the night they shared their first kiss– it scares her that she doesn’t seem to mind. When Killian unlocks the door, holding it open to follow her inside, the brush of his fingers on her back feel like lightning— a quick glance over her shoulder tells her he feels it too. Killian promptly excuses himself to the bathroom and Emma uses the brief moment to try and shake it out.

She’s not sure why she thought that would work.

Killian smiles as he leaves the bathroom, grabbing two bottles of water out of the fridge and handing one to her. If her fingers linger longer than they should have, but so do Killian’s. They sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed, and Emma reaches for the remote to fill the silence that is becoming uncomfortable in its safety.

She catches her breath when Killian speaks up. “For what it’s worth, Emma, I would nev–”

“I know.” It comes out without hesitation or thought. She meets his eyes briefly before inadvertently– yet not regrettably– glancing towards his lips.

She’s shocked to find she misses them.

That’s probably why she leans in a bit… she hopes that’s why he leans in too. Emma feels his fingers entangle in her hair. Their eyes meet and he pauses– it’s up to her.

It’s always been up to her.

Their lips meet and she’s internally kicking herself for waiting so long– and for their forced proximity turning them into a trope in a shitty romance novel.

Man, is he a good kisser.  

They come up for air, Killian’s forehead never leaving hers and his thumb sending shockwaves through the nerves in her cheeks. She feels like she’s on fire in the best way imaginable– it's a new feeling, not one she even felt with Neal. It’s simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. As he softly kisses her collar bone, she’s positive they could light all of Boston with the energy between them.

She leans in more, suddenly craving as much contact with him as possible. The want is foreign, but in no way uncomfortable. With Neal intimacy was a chore– something she did with as much enthusiasm as washing the dishes, but she’s only kissed Killian twice and ever since her mind has flooded with emotions she’d only seen in movies.

She doesn’t want this feeling to end.

Before she can stop it, Killian’s backing up and she feels the loss. As he rubs his hands over his face, Emma’s heart drops.

She’s made a horrible mistake. Emma assumed she was picking up signals that she’s usually pretty blind to– apparently nothing has changed. “Killian, I–”

“Don’t get me wrong, love. I really–”

“I know, you don’t feel the same way. I shouldn’t have–”

Killian grabs her by either side of her face, leveling with her, “Swan, I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment we met… and even more so since– since last time.”

“But…” Emma knows there’s a but.

“But… I need to know that this is what you want. That you aren’t getting swept up in some moment… I can’t–”

Oh. “Killian, I don’t– I’m not– I just know I feel… something.”

“Aye, love. As do I.” His eyes turn from worry to kindness and she feels herself catch back up with the intensity of her want.

“Can that be enough for now?” It isn’t fair–to either of them– but Emma needs an out. She knows, without one, this will crash and burn before they’ve even started.

“I am quite a patient man.” She isn’t sure if that’s an agreement to the murky terms she so haphazardly laid between them and shoots him a puzzled look. He chuckles softly, “Aye, love. I’ll gladly take whatever you give.” She smiles, finding comfort in moving at her own pace (which is as unknown to her as it is him). Emma leans in again, stealing a chaste kiss from him and he smiles.

They silently agree to move towards the back of the bed, and she settles in tucked beneath Killian’s arm. He mostly comments about the show on TV, some procedural re-run he must’ve seen before. Emma listens intently, each word lighting a new spark inside of her. She’s been told love and intimacy were electric, but until recently she thought it was just an over exaggeration at best– now she’s positive it’s real. Between conversations they make-out like teenagers, but in small moments she feels Killian’s thumb brush across her hip bone or his lips gently kiss her temple and she’s never felt so alive.

When morning comes, Emma finds herself in a similar position to the one she fell asleep in, Killian’s strong arms wrapped around her in a hug like none she’s ever felt before. She feels his breath move steadily against the back of her head and finds peace in his rhythmic nature. It’s probably that which allows her to slip back into sleep for another hour only waking when she feels Killian do so beside her. With a kiss to her shoulder, he promises coffee and gets up to retrieve it.

The bed is cold without him in it.

She can’t possibly be used to that already, can she? Before she has time to contemplate what that really means, she gets up to shower. Killian is back with coffee and donuts by the time she emerges from the bathroom. They’ve not said two words about last night, but Emma kisses him all the same as he hands her the hot cup. He seems surprised at first, most likely expecting her to backtrack on all they’d discussed the previous night, and Emma doesn’t blame him. That kiss is all it took for Killian to brighten up. The entire morning happy and chipper, even as they drive home and get stuck in traffic.

Emma likes having that effect on him.

Emma likes him.

As Killian pulls up to her apartment, Emma is so engaged in heated debate over hard shell vs. soft shell tacos that she doesn’t realize the time. This car ride goes much quicker than the one to the hotel, their conversation flowing easily– so much so she even forgets about Neal. They exit the car, “Killian it is impossible to eat tacos in a hard shell. They practically become nach–”

“MOOOOOOM!”

Emma freezes, the reality of her situation hitting her like a train going full speed.

Emma snaps out of it at the feeling of his head hitting her smack in the stomach. “Hi kid! I missed you!” Emma kisses the top of his head before he pulls back.

She can tell the moment he sees Killian.

“Oh my god. Mom?! That’s Hook!” She hears Killian chuckle and she can’t help the ping of happiness she feels in her gut.

“Aye, lad. In the flesh.” Killian mock bows for Henry and she’s not sure she’s ever seen a smile so wide– on either of them. “You must be Henry?”

She was wrong; that is the widest smile she’s ever seen out of her son. The fear she felt has completely dissipated as she watches Killian interact with Henry. They hit it off immediately, Henry asking at least one hundred questions about the UFC and Killian answering each fully and genuinely. Her stomach flips.

Emma’s so enamored with the scene in front of her that she almost forgets Mary Margaret had to have dropped him off. Emma practically jumps when she appears at her side. “Wow, he’s good with him.”

“Stop.”

Mary Margaret smiles, Emma’s shut down most likely a clear indicator of what’s happening between her and Killian. “Just saying.”

“Thanks for watching him. I owe you a million.”

Ms smiles brightly. “Anytime.” The hidden meaning is not lost on Emma, but she’s not about to humor any of her friend’s shenanigans – at least not yet. “Bye Henry... Hook.” The boys wave and Emma swears her heart doesn’t do another belly flop.

She never meant for Killian to meet Henry this soon, but she also never meant for Killian to happen at all. It’s weird how her life has a tendency to chew her up and spit her out in exactly the spot she needs to be. When she looks at the way he is with her son, and catches Killian’s slight glance towards her– smile bright and full– she’s startled to find she can’t imagine a scenario where this isn’t exactly where he’s meant to be, too.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Forged Through Fire (12/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

===

Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [AO3]

===

Content warning for this chapter: Moderate blood and gore.

===

Forged Through Fire

Twelve

“Is that so, Mustang?”

Riza’s immediate reaction to hearing Bradley’s voice behind her was to grab a pistol, turn, aim and fire. It was a clean shot in his shoulder and it should have at least slowed him down, but he didn’t even break stride, and her heart started to pound in her ears as she saw the telltale red crackle of alchemy at the bullet hole. Whatever the doctor had done with Hohenheim’s blood, it had already started to work. 

Roy snapped, a column of fire shooting down the corridor towards the Fuhrer, who simply reached up with his sword and slashed at the water pipes in the ceiling, dousing the flame and drenching Roy’s spark cloth, rendering his alchemy useless.

On instinct, Riza fired again, trying to slow him down if nothing else, but it had no effect save seeming to anger him as he raised his sword again, and Roy grabbed her hand, pulling her along down the corridor at a breakneck pace. All they could hope to do was to try and outrun him, but these corridors seemed to be interminable. She hadn’t realised just how deep Marcoh had brought them into the building when they had first come in; she had been trying to memorise the route back if they’d ended up needing it, at the same time as keeping an eye out for anything that might have caused them a problem. She hoped that Marcoh had made it back to the car after he’d met up with Havoc.

Riza forced herself to keep moving on burning legs, racing down the corridors beside Roy. They were almost at the entrance that they had come through with Marcoh, and Roy slammed the door open. She didn’t know what would happen once they were out in the open, but whatever it was, surely it would be better than being trapped in a building about to collapse in a flaming heap with a completely insane and apparently immortal Fuhrer chasing them. She knew that it was too much to ask for the others to have got out in the car and come screeching around the block to rescue them at the last minute, but she could always hope for a miracle.

The lights on the staircase had gone out and they stumbled up blindly in pitch dark, still very aware of Bradley’s footsteps behind them. Riza didn’t dare to turn and see, but something in the back of her mind was telling her that Bradley was slowing down. Maybe he wasn’t as fit as they’d thought he was; or maybe the initial boost he’d got from the immortality had worn off. 

Riza flung the top door open, squinting in the sudden bright full moonlight. They’d made it outside, and now it was a race towards the gates and the road and the prayer for deliverance. 

There was a garbled shout from behind her, and the thud of someone falling to the ground. 

“Roy!”

She turned, but Roy was only a step behind her, perfectly safe, also looking behind him in horror as Bradley picked himself up off the ground. Riza had to stop in her tracks at the sight of him. 

He was bleeding heavily, not just from the bullet wounds she had inflicted in his chest that had healed immediately at the time; it was pouring from his mouth and nose as well, dripping down his face from the corners of his eyes; dark red and sparkling with alchemic energy that seemed almost angry in its intensity. 

He tried to put on a final burst of speed towards them now that they had both come to a dead halt, but it only made it a couple of steps before falling onto his knees, spewing a fountain of blood and landing face down on the ground. 

Riza looked at Roy. 

“What the hell just happened?”

“I think his body must have rejected Hohenheim’s blood after it started to heal him up.” Roy’s face wrinkled up with disgust as he made his way over to the body. “Either that or the blood rejected the body.”

“Roy! Be careful! Don’t make this into a horror novel scene where he’s not dead and he grabs your ankles!”

Roy picked up Bradley’s dropped sword and poked at the man a couple of times before bending to take a pulse, shaking his head. 

“He’s dead.”

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before the entire building goes down!”

Smoke was billowing up from the subterranean levels now, and Roy didn’t need further encouragement. They both started running towards the gates, grateful that Marcoh had not locked them again after they’d come through earlier. They kept pounding down the street until they stopped in alarm when a car screeched to a halt in front of them and Riza had to double take when Hughes leaned out of the driver’s seat. 

“Need a ride?”

They threw themselves into the back as Hughes floored it away from the laboratory.

“How on earth did you manage to sneak out of the shop and where did you get this car?” Roy asked. 

“Well, Gracia helped with the sneaking and Falman’s going to make a career out of forging car requisition orders.” Hughes grinned at him in the rear-view. “Don’t I get a ‘thank you for saving our asses’?”

“Thank you for saving our asses, although I don’t know who’s going to save yours once we get back and Madam Christmas gets hold of you.”

Hughes laughed. “I shall simply remind her that I brought her darling nephew back to her in one piece.”

“Hmm.” Roy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how much mileage you’ll get out of that.”

In spite of everything that had happened over the course of the last several minutes, Riza had to laugh. It felt good to laugh. They weren’t out of the woods by any stretch of the imagination. Bradley may have been dead, but there were a bunch of generals under him who would not be so easily unseated - although, if Roy’s description of the chaos unfolding at Central Command was anything to go by, perhaps that wasn’t a foregone conclusion. There was the small matter of Kimblee shoved in the ammo closet back in the armoury (although surely someone would have found him by now), and all of the destruction that had been wreaked through the Fifth Laboratory. 

Right now, though, that wasn’t a problem. That was something that they could think about later. The most immediate problem had been rescuing Hohenheim, and Riza could only hope that he and Havoc had managed to get out with the rest of the exodus in the fire alarm. Her mind was set at ease as they rounded the corner a few blocks from the laboratory and Armstrong came into sight, their original car parked up next to the phone booth he was in. 

Hughes leaned out as they pulled up alongside, and Riza could see the others in the car. Hohenheim appeared to have passed out again, covered in Marcoh’s coat like a blanket, but since the doctor didn’t seem to be too concerned by this, Riza decided she wouldn’t be either.

“It’s ok, the cavalry’s already here,” Hughes called. Armstrong stared at him for several seconds.

“Not to worry, false alarm,” he said into the phone and hung up, getting back into the driver’s seat of the car. Beside him, Havoc was killing himself laughing.

The rest of the journey back to the shop was made in relieved silence - Hughes asked what had gone on but accepted Roy’s wish to leave the tale until they were all together in one place to avoid having to repeat the details several times. It did not take them long to reach the shop; most of the traffic was going in the other direction towards the laboratory, and the two cars parked up in convoy a couple of blocks away. They could return them tomorrow; with all the commotion, Riza was sure that no one would notice them missing for a while. 

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off now, and Riza could feel the tiredness beginning to settle into her limbs as they all made their way inside and down the stairs into the bar. She hadn’t realised just how physically demanding that trip through the vents and all the subsequent excitement had been until now. 

“Van!”

Trisha was across the room in the blink of an eye, throwing her arms around her husband and burying her face in his shoulder as she burst into tears of relief. 

“I’m all right,” he murmured. “I’m all right, my love. It’s all going to be all right.”

The rest of the group moved away towards the bar counter, letting them have their moment. Madam Christmas was already pouring out generous measures of spirits for the returning rescuers.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” she said to Hughes. “For now though, I’ll let it slide.”

Riza just managed to make it over to a booth before her knees gave out, the weight of what had just happened finally coming down on her. She couldn’t quite believe it; if anyone had told her it second hand she would never have believed them. Secret laboratories, immortality experiments, the Fuhrer now dead. It didn’t seem real.

“Hey.” Roy slid into the booth beside her. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I just…” She leaned in and kissed him. If there was more hunger and desperation in it, then it was out of sheer gratitude at not having lost him despite the dangers they had faced. 

“Yes,” Roy said softly as she finally released him. “Yes, I think that sums it up.”

Before anything more could be said, there was a joyous bark as Fuery came down into the bar with Hayate, who bounded towards Riza, tail wagging so hard it was in danger of falling off.

“Someone could have told me they were all back!” Fuery exclaimed. “Why am I always the last to know these things?”

“We knew you’d be back inside soon enough.” Hughes waved away his affront. “Come on. We need to hear all about the daring rescue, and also how come the Fifth Laboratory is now even more in ruins than it was before. It was smoking when I drove past it, so I think Roy probably has some explaining to do.”

Roy sighed; the moment was over, and they weren’t going to get any peace until the story was told. Hayate took advantage of the confusion to jump up onto Riza’s lap and start licking her face. She had to laugh.

“Hayate, I was only gone for a few hours.”

“He must have known you were going into the lion’s den,” Roy remarked, scratching Hayate’s ears and receiving grateful licks of his own. 

“It’s ok, Puppy, I’m home. We’re all safe and sound.”

Hughes and Madam Christmas brought the drinks over as everyone began to gather around for the tale of what had happened in the laboratory. A few refills later, the entire room was speechless. 

“Well.” Hughes was the first one to speak. “I think I speak for everyone when I say let’s never do that again ever. And I think we definitely dodged a bullet when it comes to Bradley. That man was all kinds of creepy I want nothing to do with, thank you.”

“Amen to that.” Breda raised his glass. It was a mark of how much the story had gripped him since he hadn’t noticed that Hayate had got down from Riza’s lap and was now snoring happily on his feet. 

Riza looked around at the people around the table; a scrappy, rag-tag bunch on the face of it, with nothing in common between all of them except the bar that they were sitting in, but they had grown into a strange kind of family nonetheless. These were the people that Riza truly considered to be her family. She would always miss her mother, that went without saying. Her memories of her father would always be sour. But this family she had found and made for herself would always pick her up and have her back, no matter what. Just as she would always have theirs. 

“To the future.” Roy held up his glass in a toast. “Whatever the hell that might be. Here’s hoping it’s better than the present.”

The sentiment echoed around the table, and Riza glanced sideways at Roy, knowing that now he had the opportunity, he would make that future as better as it possibly could be.

Gradually, with the excitement and horror of the day slowly catching up to everyone, people began to make their way back to their own homes in dribs and drabs. Breda and Fuery were staying to man the radios in case anything horrifically unforeseen happened overnight as a result of the Fuhrer’s death, and it was unanimously decided that Hohenheim and Trisha should lay low at the bar for their own safety, but soon enough, it was just Riza and Roy left at their table.

“I guess I should go as well.” Roy sighed, but he made no move to leave, his arm still tight around Riza’s shoulders.

“You sound like you can’t think of anything you’d like to do less.”

He chuckled. “No. I’m enjoying this moment. I don’t want it to be over.”

“Me neither.” Riza paused, thinking back to the previous night. “You know, you don’t have to leave. You can come up. And… maybe not sleep on the couch this time?”

He looked at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m way too exhausted – physically and emotionally – to do anything that’s not sleeping. But I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want you to stop holding me.”

A few years ago, Riza didn’t think she would ever be in a position like this, where she would want to stay in someone’s arms forever, and moreover, that she would be comfortable admitting that to them. Now though, she had Roy. She had always trusted him, and he had proved himself worthy of that trust over and over again, but there had always been a part of her that had shied away a little, trying to remain aloof and not admit to herself just how much she wanted and needed him. She was so used to having to be self-sufficient that it had taken her a long time to accept help, and an even longer time to accept love. 

Roy kissed her softly, warm hands cupping her face. 

“I would love to stay.”

X

To say that the few days following the Fuhrer’s death had been frantic would be an understatement. Although the city had not quite descended into complete anarchy, Riza had been convinced that it was heading that way at times, to the point where she and Madam Christmas had boarded up the shop windows just in case. The government was flailing in chaos without the leader who had run it with an iron fist for so long, and the few more competent and logistically minded generals were scrambling to pick up the pieces with what they had available. Roy and the others were rushed off their feet with contradictory orders, and as such, it was only Riza and Rebecca who were around at the bar to see Trisha and Hohenheim off with Marcoh.

“As much as we’re really going to miss you, I think that you’re making the right decision,” Rebecca said. “Let us know when you’ve got yourselves sorted out with a place to live and we’ll box up all the stuff from your apartment and get it sent on.”

“We will. It shouldn’t be too hard. I grew up in Resembool and I haven’t been gone long enough for it to have changed much. The people there know me, and they know Van. We’ll be safe there; it’s the kind of place that bands together to protect its own, no matter who they are or what they might do.” Trisha smiled. “Besides, we were always going to make the move back there at some point. I don’t want the little one growing up in a big city.”

“Congratulations, by the way. I guess you probably didn’t intend for everyone to find out via Madam Christmas banning you from going on rescue missions, but you can take to heart that half of them probably didn’t twig what she meant.”

Trisha laughed. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for everything,” Hohenheim said. Physically he was back to his usual self again, but Riza didn’t want to think about the mental scars. 

“We’re family. It’s what we do.”

They got into the car with Marcoh – Falman had conveniently mislaid the requisition paperwork and in the confusion no one was likely to miss it for a while – and Rebecca and Riza waved them off. 

“I think there’s something inspiring about that relationship,” Rebecca said as they made their way back towards the shop. “It can’t exactly be easy for them with Hohenheim being, well, Hohenheim, but they love each other so much that they make it work.” She paused, turning towards Riza with a wicked grin. “Speaking of relationships though… Don’t think I don’t know that Roy’s been staying over rather a lot recently.”

Riza rolled her eyes. “The shop is closer to Central Command than his apartment. It’s just practical.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Rebecca!”

“Hey, I’m the last person to judge. I’m just happy that you two are on the same page and you’ve got your act together and decided to go for it. I’ve been watching the mutual pining ever since I’ve known you both; it’s been painful and hilarious in equal measure.”

“Yeah. I think that we decided that life’s too short not to try and be happy in it. Especially given everything that’s been going on lately.”

As they rounded the corner towards the shop, Riza saw Roy standing outside with a bunch of flowers. He knew very well that she didn’t own a vase, but she liked the sentiment anyway. 

She had decided to take that chance on love, and on the prospect of a better future, and she couldn’t be happier that she had.

[sunflowerbi]

Brooooo can I say 1 through 66? 😂😂😂 I wish!! These are so good I'm going crazy lmao anyways... 3 +38!!! 😌😌😌 (I'm already planning more combos fyi 😅)

okay okay i did it im sorry i got the Writers Block™ but im back in it now so here’s about 1k words of murder, jealous Eve, shithead villanelle, and vague mentions of eve and villanelle fucking! none of it is particularly explicit (the sex or the murder) but it does in fact happen! Hopefully this turned out alright, i started it about three times before finally actually writing it! Thank you again!!! you’re the best, i love these prompts so much. as always here’s the link to my ao3 info 

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already?” +  “Wait a minute.. are you jealous?” (Fluffy prompts ✨)

If Villanelle loved anything, it was having Eve’s attention. All of it, focused on her every movement. In the dark of the club Eve never let her eyes leave Villanelle’s form, even with the mass of bodies moving around her. It sent a shock down her spine, looking over at Eve, locking eyes for a moment, feeling the intensity of her stare. They had a mark, some sleazy businessman MI6 needed gone for reasons Villanelle hadn’t bothered learning, and she was hunting him out, snaking through the crowd and smiling at him, biting her lip and touching his arm. Men were always so easy, a couple glances, a whispered word in their ear, and they were putty in her hands.

           “Let me buy you a drink?” He slurred, a creepy smirk crossing his face as he grabbed for her waist.

           Villanelle only nodded, carefully pushing back the instinct to stab him right there. She’d promised to be discrete this time, to at least take him to the alley before having her way. So, she followed behind him, looking up at Eve, hidden out in the corner, keeping watch for any surprise security, any reason Villanelle needed to get the hell out. As she’d known, Eve was tracking her, her eyes particularly focused on the way he reached out behind himself, grabbing for her again. Villanelle figured that if looks could kill he would’ve been dead the second Eve had laid eyes on him. And well, she never really believed that bullshit about not mixing business and pleasure, so she let his hands roam her more than she usually would, leaned a little bit closer than she needed just to feel the heat of her girlfriend’s stare. She knew Eve noticed, she always noticed, would’ve noticed if Villanelle so much as breathed differently. Villanelle would never deny that she loved a chance to show off, and Eve was her very favorite person to perform for.

           She saw Eve start to fidget, unusually tense in her place several meteres away. Villanelle wanted to push her, let his hand graze her thigh, the entire time watching for Eve’s reaction. She knew Carolyn would kill them both if they messed up the job, but she also knew she could mess with Eve and kill the drunken idiot at the same time, was thrilled by the idea. His hand moved towards her ass and Eve began weaving her way through the crowd, suddenly speaking into the comm in her ear, typically only for emergencies.

           “Why have you not killed him already? I don’t see why he has to feel you up first.” It was low, Eve’s voice just barely steady. “I know you aren’t playing with me while we’re on a job, that would be dangerous and ridiculous.” She was moving quickly now, only a few people still between them.

           Villanelle looked up at Eve and winked, daring Eve to do it, to come closer. Eve was behind her in seconds, facing the bar with gritted teeth, ordering a drink before turning to face Villanelle, about to speak only to be cut off.

“Why don’t we step outside for a moment, hm?” Villanelle purred, tugging on the man’s shirt, trying not to gag when she realized it was damp. She could tell Eve was following behind them, could practically feel the heat radiating off of her. The air outside was chilly, little goosebumps covering Villanelle’s exposed skin as she led the way. Rough hands began grabbing for her again, but this time she let her instincts take over as she pulled out the knife tucked in her waistband.

           “Do not touch me.” She instructed; the knife just barely pressed against his neck. He fell silent aside from a few high-pitched squeaks, pupils blown wide.

           “Hello darling, I didn’t realize you were going to join us.” Villanelle smiled, somehow the perfect picture of innocence even with a knife gripped in her hand.

           “Oh, fuck off, you knew I was following you.” Eve seethed, her eyes running up and down Villanelle’s frame hungrily.

           “Wait a minute… are you jealous?” Faux surprise flowed through Villanelle’s voice, smirking at Eve as she raised her eyebrows.

           “If you try to move again, I will make this hurt as much as possible, asshole.” Villanelle shouted at the businessman still pressed against dirty bricks with a knife to his throat, clearly confused about the exchange and hoping for a chance to escape.

           “Now, where were we?”

           “I was about to call you a dick, I believe.” Eve bit out, trying and failing to sound angry. “I was going to mention that we’re supposed to be on a job, and that it’s really stupid to risk it just to rile me up in the hopes that I’ll f-”

           “Would you just shut up and kiss me already?” Villanelle rolled her eyes as she cut Eve off, using her free hand to pull Eve in by the front of her coat.

           Eve didn’t need to be asked twice, immediately pressing her lips against Villanelle’s, nipping at her bottom lip as her tongue demanded entrance. She began pulling on her girlfriend’s clothes, tugging her closer by the bottom of her shirt. Villanelle quickly twisted the knife in her hand, finishing the job and dropping the knife before shoving Eve against the wall opposite. It didn’t take long for Eve to flip them around, her hand snaking up Villanelle’s shirt and palming at her breasts as she continued kissing her with pent-up frustration.

           “Eve we should really take this to our hotel.” Villanelle moaned into the kiss, her hands pushing into wild curls.

           “Oh, because being in an alleyway has stopped you before?” Eve snarked, biting her way across Villanelle’s jaw and down her throat, lavishing kisses over the blooming red marks she left behind. She let’s her hands wander, grasping at hips and hair and settling on her ass.

           “I do not think you’d like it if we had to walk back naked, but you also look like you’re about to rip my shirt off, and then I’ll rip yours off, and then you’ll end up fucking me against the wall which will be incredibly sexy, but less so when we get arrested for public nudity. Plus, there is a dead guy right there, which would be suspicious.” Villanelle whispered into Eve’s ear, smirking as she felt Eve roll her eyes, backing off of Villanelle just to pull her along by the arm.

           They started against the door, then in the hallway, then the couch, then the shower, hallway again, and eventually ended up tangled around each other on the bed, wrapped in silky white sheets and warmth.

           “I should make you jealous more often.” Villanelle joked, pressing gentle kisses against Eve’s shoulder.

           “Shut up, I should withhold sex from you more.” Eve laughed, playfully shoving at her.

           “You cannot resist me for that long, I’ll just start walking around the house naked until you give up.”

           “Oh my god you’re literally the worst.”

           “Love you too, Eve.”  

(here’s your tiny and polite reminder/request about reblogging/telling me how you feel in the tags or something, it really does make my day 🥰🥰)

[writerfangirlbooks]

The Spy

Castiel x Reader Prompt: Reader is a mortal who is being blackmailed into working for Crowley and goes to a dance where you meet the angel Castiel, who wants to help you. Y/h = your height.

Word Count: around 2270

Credit to gif owner!

You had made a mistake. You wanted to protect your kid sister and ran into someone who promised help. You were desperate and made a deal. Now your ten years are up, but Crowley didn't want you to die yet. He believed you two had grown as chums, so he kept you around. You were thirty by now, but only visited your sister a few times a year. Crowley had kept you away from the Winchester brothers; he didn't want you in the way of the cross-fire. Now you were at a very formal dance, undercover, to find information from the brothers.

"And remember, pet," Crowley said. "Find out the location, any allies, and times. Those are the main priorities. Do whatever it takes."

You nodded and got ready. A slim black dress, heels, and a small purse that held weapons, such as pepper spray and knives. You had never considered fighting Crowley. After all, he was the King of Hell. When you met, he was a crossroads demon in a bar. You knew his power, his strength. You wouldn't defy him. You didn't necessary like all the missions he would send you on, but there wasn't much you could do about it.

Crowley dropped you off at the entrance. You scanned the building before going inside. A butler took your purse and you noticed where he laid it, for future reference. Crowley had given you a brief description of the two brothers: "Moose is the younger one. Long hair. Squirrel is shorter. More rebellious." That was all you had to go off of, besides their names. What would two hunters be doing at a dance anyways? You wondered.

Immediately, you caught about the attention of a dozen men, along with a few ladies. You strolled through, feigning confidence, and waited in the corner and caught a man fumbling with coins in the bar to the right. You immediately went to help him. You bent on a knee and picked up the quarters and nickels. He let out a sigh of relief as you dropped the money into his hands. You stood and studied each other.

"Thank you," the man said with half of a smile. He had messy brown hair and the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen. He was in a suit and there was a trench coat draped over the chair he was seated in.

"You're welcome," you said quickly, shaking his hand. The man stared at you with curiosity and you hoped he couldn't tell that you were meant to be dead. He kept hold of your hand a moment too long, but you also didn't pull away immediately either. "My name is Y/N. It is nice to meet you..." You trailed off. He continued staring into your y/e/c eyes.

"I am Agent Robert Stark," he said. His voice appeared naturally low, but not necessarily deep. "I'm here for the case of Martha Jones, a woman who died a few nights ago. Would you happen to know anything about her?"

You shook your head, almost wishing you had lied and said you did, just so you could continue talking to him. You enjoyed his voice, but knew you had to continue on. "I can't say that I have, sorry."

Agent Stark nodded thoughtfully and pulled a business card out of his pocket, where you saw the flash of the FBI card, and handed it to you. "Would you let me know if you hear anything?"

You nodded numbly and mumbled an "of course". You had met with FBI when you were younger in a case when you were working with the government, before your sister got sick. That was definitely not one of those badges. You wandered over to your purse and stuck the card in there, planning on delivering it to Crowley later. The 'detective' was no doubt attractive, but that didn't mean you could trust him. You really loved life. You would always give it up for your sister, but that didn't mean you wanted to die.

Merging through the crowds of people, you found yourself on the dance floor alone. You swayed with a couple men, who didn't fit the description. You searched, but still didn't find anyone that even slightly resembled the Winchesters. Out of seemingly nowhere, Stark appeared in front of you, almost trying to block something.

"Um, would you dance with me?" He asked. You replied with a hesitant "sure". He took your right hand and intertwined it with his. The other hand was placed on your waist. You almost tripped over his feet at his touch. He seemed nervous, which definitely should have made you suspicious. There was not a reason a good looking agent like him should be nervous. Then again, he wasn't a real agent.

"I did not mean to urgently request this dance. I didn't want you to appear alone... It seemed to be that there is a man watching you. He in the middle of the northern area in a blue suit. I thought I should warn you," Robert Stark said. You peaked over his shoulder and saw Jonson, Crowley's right hand demon. You stiffened instantly. Whether Crowley had sent him to watch you or to inform you on something new, you weren't sure.

"Thank you," you flashed him a false smile. "That wasn't necessary, however. We work together."

The agent's face grew immediately into surprise. "Oh! I was unaware. Y/N, I apologize if it seems like I was-"

"It's not a problem, agent. Thank you for the dance. I will let you know if I hear anything about Martha." You dropped his hand reluctantly as the song came to a draw and walked away. He stayed for a moment longer, the touch of your soft hand lingering on his. You felt it too and swallowed as you walked towards Jonson. You crossed your arms and tried to appear displeased at his arrival, when he actually frightened you. The King of Hell didn't scare you as much as Jonson did. Crowley had never tried to actually hurt you before.

He raised his eyebrows and his lips formed a cocky smirk. There was a navy scarf wrapped around his pale neck, which was the only reason he stood out. His suit was stolen, but came from a very expensive store. He was handsome physically, which is why you had tried befriending him all those years ago. Jonson played along at first, then showed how demon's truly were: completely apathetic. Aside from Crowley, who had a sliver of emotions thanks to the Winchesters, who you still needed to find. Jonson didn't take lightly to the word 'no', which you were confident enough to say, even to a demon. That didn't stop the cruel things that he did to you. You saw him less and less, thankfully, after things were finally done between you two. That didn't stop him from being completely arrogant when he was around you. You had no idea if Crowley noticed the bruises you had tried to cover or not, but it didn't really matter. You were here on a job and he wasn't going to mess that up.

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly, meeting his dark eyes after a moment. Jonson towered over you menacingly and you had to resist the urge to run.

"Crowley wanted me to let you know that you need to report back to him no later that midnight," Jonson answered, scanning the people around, presumably to see if there was anyone he could try to either persuade into a deal, kill for fun, or anyone whose time is almost up.

You couldn't help but retort. "Why, were you the last one available?" He narrowed his eyes, which meant yes. You knew not to do anything else, so you said, "If that's all... Thank you for letting me know. You can leave now," you told him. His smirk grew and he stretched, forcing you to step back. He responded, "I think I'll stay for a while. What have you found so far, talking with the angel?"

"Excuse me?" You questioned. Jonson tilted his head. His brow furrowed and he said, "The one you were dancing with. That cover wasn't too horrible, I must admit. Pretending to be nice and collect his money. He must be with the Winchesters, though I don't see them anywhere."

You realized you had been talking for a good five minutes and looked around, though the only eyes on you were Jonson's dead brown ones. You moved your right foot anxiously. Your scar rubbed against the back of your heel. You had Jonson to thank for that; he had been experimenting in new ways to torture and you had no way to escape. You were mortal, after all. But Agent Stark... not an agent, but an angel? That was the more difficult part to process. You wondered if he knew that you were working for Crowley and if it was a plot to get you and Jonson together.

"Hey," his voice hardened and Jonson reached out and grabbed your arm. "I was talking to you." You tried stepping away and moving your arm back, but the demon was a lot stronger than you. You mumbled towards him, telling him to let you go, which of course didn't happen. The angel was suddenly next to you and pushed Jonson away. The sudden impact made you fall backwards onto the fake agent. He caught and steadied your body, even on the heels.

"I believe she asked you to let her go," the angel said, his blue eyes glowing. You stepped back, out of his way. The angel had a grip on Jonson, whose face for the first time was filled with terror. You assured yourself you wouldn't get hurt. Crowley could break your extra time in less than a snap of his fingers, but at least Jonson wouldn't be able to hurt you anymore.

People began casting weird looks your way. You tugged on the angel's sleeve. "Leave him. People are staring," you whispered. He turned back to you and Jonson slouched against the wall. The blue-eyed angel took your hand and jogged you to the exit. You two stood outside. You took a minute to catch your breath as the angel continued his focus on where the demon was, as if threatening him to come over here.

"Thank you," you said after a moment. "Why did you do that?"

"Do you mean save you? I had to. Do you know what that person was? I shouldn't have even let you walk over there," said the angel. He made it sound like it was his duty to protect mortals against demons, unless he just saw Jonson, 6'7, gaining up on you, only y/h.

"Jonson is a demon. Tell me who you really are," you demanded, nearly in a whisper. You were shaking by now as you observed the angel. Time was ticking by. There was just less than an hour before you had to tell Crowley what you had found out, which at this point, was absolutely nothing. Jonson could be running to him right now, telling him any lies he could possibly dream up.

The angel saw you trembling. He took your hands in his. "My name is Castiel. The only reason I came was because my friends... Sam and Dean... had an emergency hunt. They said that I could find what they needed here. Please, tell me, why did you walk to him? Why engage in conversation?"

You didn't want to, but you let go of Castiel's hands. They were so warm and protective around yours. You couldn't lead him on like that, for multiple reasons. You knew he would be able to detect your lies, so you settled for the truth.

"You're right. I shouldn't have. But I wasn't wrong when I said we worked together. I also was here for information," you lowered your eyes, almost shamefully.

Castiel froze and you felt your whole body shake and tried swallowing down the pain. "You work for Crowley?" He paused and blinked. "What information could you have needed from here?"

"It was about the Winchesters. They were supposed to be here. He sent me here to find out where they were staying, who they were working with, and when. He sent the demon to tell me when to let him know when I found out, which is in forty minutes now. Look, I know you probably think how ridiculous I am. I wanted to keep my sister alive, so I made a deal. It's been three months past my due date. I'm just doing what I can, okay?" You sniffled. It was forty degrees outside and you were in a skin-tight dress with a thin strap. Castiel noticed and took off his trench coat, wrapping it around your shoulders. "Hell, I can't believe you're an angel."

Castiel frowned. He hesitantly put an arm around you for warmth. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I'm supposed to be a spy and I couldn't figure that out." You let out a weak laugh and looked up at the angel. He bent down and kissed you. Your hair began to get messed up, the way he would hold you. You knew you didn't have much time. However, standing here in an angel's coat... kissing him. That felt right.

Wattpad/Pinterest: writerfangirlbooks

Instagram/TikTok: ashleyeneal

[readerstories]

My best friend - Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader

Don’t know if this is exactly what the requester wanted, but here you go :P Placed somewhere between Sky Island and Water 7. If you see any typos, please tell me. (AO3)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 1985

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could d a zoro roronoa x reader where the reader is a swordswomen and they become good friends but they slowly start to become romantically interested in eachother??

You and Zoro had know each other for a very long time. The two of you had first met when you were children, long before Zoro joined Luffy’s crew. Over the years you had gone separate ways, but you had a habit of running into each other without meaning to. 

Every time it was like you two never left each other’s side, and you just took up the conversation where it last left off. 

When Zoro joined Luffy’s crew, the meetings stopped, since they headed for the Grand Line while you stayed in the East Blue. 

Zoro didn’t really speak of you to the other crew members, but he misses you none the less. The crew are his friends, but you are his best friend. 

Sometimes, when he misses you the most, he would spend most of his down time gazing at the sky and wondering what you are up to. He guessed it couldn’t be anything too bad, since he never saw anything in the newspapers that was or could be about you. 

You could also be dead, but as soon as that idea popped into his head, he quickly abandoned it. You were not some kind of person he could imagine that would go out without at least making it news worthy. 

He knew that you probably had some idea as what he was up to, since the crew was making a name for themselves. He knew that you must have seen his bounty poster at some point, and he wonders how you felt. 

He knew that you most likely didn’t care, as you both had been on the grey side of the law most of the time anyways, but he couldn’t help but think about it.

It’s a calm day on the Merry, and as usual Zoro is napping on deck while the rest of the crew does whatever they like. He is vaguely aware of Luffy and Usopp sitting on the railing and fishing, while trading silly jokes between themselves. 

He’s half asleep and barely listening, but when Luffy says something about an approaching boat, he starts paying attention. Luffy and Usopp is arguing if the boat is coming closer or not, so Zoro decides he should go have a look. 

He gets up and walks over to Luffy and Usopp, and indeed, there is a small boat there. It’s tiny even to the Sunny, mainly comprised of a mast with a sail and a small cabin. He can’t see anyone on the boat.

“I think it is coming closer.” Usopp’s looks at Zoro where he is standing a few meters behind them and then back to Luffy. 

“See I told you so! What do you think it is? Maybe it’s-” Usopp’s out loud train of thought is broken right there, as something splashes over the water towards them, and before they know it, a person is between Luffy and Usopp. 

The seemingly half second they are there, Usopp has time to notice a smirk on their lips half hidden under a hood, and Zoro has barely enough time to draw two of his katanas to block theirs. 

The force of it sends him sliding backwards on the deck, he has no time at all before the person is attacking him again. The power behind the attacks are fierce, relentless, and weirdly enough, somewhat familiar. Zoro can’t pinpoint why, as he has little time to think between attacks.

Luffy and Usopp yells out, which makes the rest of the crew come to see what the hell is going on. Luffy tries to reach out, but before Zoro can yell for him to stay out of it, the swordsman deflects Luffy’s hands, sending him crashing into a wall. 

Zoro notices that Luffy isn’t bleeding at all when he gets up. The swordsman must have been using the blunt sides of the blades. Which means they only want to fight him, and not hurt anyone else. He yells this out loud to the rest of the crew. 

The momentarily slip of full concentration seems to give his opponent the tiniest of windows, and they send him reeling backwards again. As he gets some distance, the figure talks.

“Still not letting others fight your battles for you Zoro? Very good!” He realises then why the attacks seemed so familiar. He has blocked them hundreds, if not thousands times before. He almost doesn’t dare speak your name in fear of being wrong, but when the figure takes their hood off, he lets it slip anyway. You grin.

“Thought you might have forgotten me there for a second.” Zoro finds himself smiling back, and then his katanas clatter to the ground as he rushes forward to hug you. You laugh and hug him back. The rest of his crew sends confused looks between themselves, not understanding the sudden shift in tone. Zoro lets go of you so he can face them all.

“Everyone, meet my best friend.” You wave, presenting yourself properly with your full name and a peace sign.

“Nice to meet everyone!” Before anyone can say anything else, Sanji runs over and takes it in his. He kisses your hand, his eyes almost going heart shaped.

“Ahhh, such a pretty lady. How do you know such a brute as Zoro?” Zoro ignores the glare sent his way, while you pull your hand out of Sanjis. 

“Oh, we known each other since we were kids, and since we always ran into each other back in East Blue, we stayed friends over the years.” You sling an arm around Zoro’s shoulder and he can’t help but smile at the familiar weight of it.

“And then this dummy up and left East Blue, so eventually I decided I should probably follow him.” You ruffle his hair. Zoro can see the confusion on his crew members faces, except from Luffy, who nods.

“It’s decided then.” Luffy says, confusing everyone even more, including you.

“What?” You ask, but Zoro already knows the words that are going to come out his captains mouth.

“You are going to be our new crew member” A chorus of groans and “Luffy, no”, rises from the crew. Zoro notices you seem slack-jawed, but you regain your composure quickly.

“Yeah, sure!” You say with a smile, and just like that, the Strawhats have another member.

-----------

After that first day, you settle in rather quickly. You learn that the whole crew is quite the cast of characters and you love it. You have some favourites of course (Robin is interesting to say the least) and some not so favorite (Sanji had gotten a few bonks on the head with the handle of your katanas before the heart eyes stopped), but all in all you really like everyone. 

It also feels wonderful traveling with others again, especially when one of them is your best friend. It was so good to see Zoro again and hang out with him. And now you were in the same crew, so you wouldn’t need to be apart again. 

Which both of you enjoyed immensely, maybe you even more than him, since your old crush on him was flaring up again. You do your best to ignore it however, not wanting to spoil the friend reunion. 

One night, after dinner, you and Zoro start drinking together while reminiscing about old times. You get so into the conversation that the rest of the crew leaves you to it. 

In the middle of another story about how you beat up someone who challenged you in a bar, you hear two splashes, and then Nami screaming. It quickly becomes apparent that Luffy and Chopper have gone overboard. 

Without even thinking, you run forward to the railing, jumping over it and down to the freezing water down below. As soon as you are under, you spot the two of them sinking. 

A splash next to you and then Zoro is there too. 

You exchange a glance, and then you swim towards Chopper while he goes for Luffy. Dragging them both towards the surface, all four of you gasp for air as soon as you can. 

Careful not to lose Chopper, you carefully swim towards the boat and climb the ladder Usopp threw down. As soon as you place Chopper on the deck, he coughs up even more water, Luffy doing the same as soon Zoro and him joins you.

“You guys okay?” Luffy and Chopper nod, but says nothing. You breathe a sigh of relief while standing up. 

“Good. Going to go out on a limb here and say don’t play wrestle that close to the railing next time all right?” You take their silence as an yes. You wring out as much water as you can from your clothes. You’re soaked and so is Zoro. 

“Zoro, going to need to borrow one of your shirts, mine is still hanging out to dry after I washed them.”

“Sure.” You had done similar things over the years, so it comes naturally for you to ask and for Zoro to say yes. You follow Zoro while Nami yells at Chopper and Luffy for being so stupid. When the hatch closes behind you and you have your feet on the floor, you groan and stretch.

“Gotta say, Devil Fruits are really cool and all, but don’t think I would ever give up the ability to svim.” Zoro just hums, used to hearing you talk without needing a response.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind like being my own personal lighter or something but-” You are cut off by Zoro’s shirt hitting you in the face.

“Thanks!” Without hesitation you pull of your own shirt, letting it drop to the floor.

“You got any towels around here?” You look up and catch Zoro looking the the new scars on your stomach.

“Those new?” 

“Yeah, got them in a bar fight of all things.”

“Look nasty.”

“You’re one to talk, with the one all over your chest.” Zoro shrugs and takes of his own shirt, letting that too fall to the floor. You can’t help the small hitch in your breath that comes from seeing it in its entirety. You walk closer to him, and in the small space it only takes a few steps. You touch the upper edge of the big scar, Zoro lets you, just watching.

“I wish I was there when it happened.” Zoro grunts, not really sure how to approach the subject, since he’s rarely a man of many words.

“Hey, you’re here now. I don’t care that you weren’t there then, I’m just happy that we found each other again.”

“Well, more like I found you.” Zoro snorts.

“Besides, it’s not like I don’t think the same about these.” Zoro touches the scars on your stomach, and you draw in a sharp breath. Looking up, you lock gazes with him. You feel your heart having its own 100 meter race in your chest. 

You don’t know if it’s Zoro’s touch or his words, but you feel the love for the man soar. Which guides your next action. 

You keep eye contact while your hands go the his shoulders, and then you are leaning forward, pressing your lips to his. 

It is brief, and when you lean back, Zoro mirrors you, and then he is kissing you. 

The brief shock is gone in second and then you are ecstatic, kissing him back. You can hardly believe it, but the man you love is kissing you.

After a while you break apart, and you lean your head on Zoro’s shoulder. His arms circle your back, stroking you slowly.

“We should probably go back up so the others won’t start to wonder what we are doing back here.”

“Mhm.” You look up at Zoro and grin, he finds himself matching it. You share one more kiss before putting your dry shirts on and joining the rest of the crew.

[pumpkinsandsuckers]

I think we should get together now

Catradora, BG Scorfuma.

Summary: Karaoke AU. The only thing is that Catra and Adora never met, and there was no war.  Scorpia and Perfuma host a (couples) karaoke night. Catra gets jealous. Between singing a song or be subject to a penalty? Fine, she’ll sing a stupid song.

AN: This has been heavily inspired by @ CambieArt 's tweet about which songs Adora and Catra would sing to each other during a Karaoke session. She makes good art too, so feel free to check her out! 

I also died from embarrassment writing this.

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

The blinking of the traffic lights, the smoky, dusty street lights were something Catra was used to. The thudding of bass from bars blasting music, the edgier, grittier music she had grown up with.

But not now. She had been dragged into the heart of the city of Etheria. The fluorescent glare of neon pink and yellow dazzled her, and she scowled. Everything was so… poppy here. Even the bars! It was, as Lonnie would have called it, a “bastardized fusion of jazz and pop”. Catra was beginning to regret joining Scorpia.

But that was what friends were for. If Scorpia needed a wingwoman for her date, Catra would gladly accompany her. A bright blue hologram flashed up, an advertisement for some fizzy beverage from Dryl. Catra weaved past the diverse crowd, grumbling under her breath as she followed her communications pad. Scorpia had dropped her the venue address, but this district - well, everything nearing Bright Moon City was just so confusing.

The roads in the Fright Zone, and even Dryl, were crooked and winding, but so much easier to distinguish from each other. The layout in Bright Moon though, was repetitive, grids and grids of identical buildings and crossings.

Catra growled as she passed by a familiar statue of what looked like a tall, muscular athlete in a tight costume. She had a ponytail flowing behind her, frozen in this marvellous pose.  ‘Mara, Our Hero’ it read.

“Not again.” Catra sighed. It was the city probably. Navigational systems functioned poorly in areas of congestion. It was a bloody miracle how she made her way here.

‘I’m at the Mara statue. How! Do! I! Reach! The! Enchanted! Grotto?!!!?!’ She typed out a message to Scorpia, hissing when a beep alerted her of Scorpia’s rapid response. How did she even type with her claws?

‘ Whih? ’

Frustrated, Catra swept her hair back and sighed, looking around.

‘ w, there arr 10 Mara statuesd ’

‘You have got to be kidding me!!!’

‘ Whoopd, 20 Maras tautes ’

Catra clenched her fists and took a deep breath, finding a safe space to calm down. 20 statues around Bright Moon City?! If they were supposed to be landmarks, they had failed. If she had been winding around a single Mara statue, it would have been fine. But 20!? She could have been walking around the entire city and not realise it.

She switched to the navigational app. Curses. Her icon flickered and jumped from location to location, eventually settling in a blue blob marked as a lake. Her eyebrow twitched. She was this close to flinging her pad at the floor.

“Scorpia can handle it.” She grunted, as she looked around cluelessly, trying to find a sign, anything that could guide her to the Enchanted Grotto. She had never been to Bright Moon much. Seen it on her screens, yes. Seen more of it on Entrapta’s screens, yes. But Bright Moon was unfamiliar territory. She definitely wasn’t scared. Nope, just uncomfortable with how bright and loud everything was. Okay, she had to do this. It was simple.

Catra took a deep breath, patted her shirt and pants, and approached the first stranger she saw. A young girl with a bright pink shirt with ‘Kawaii AF’ smacked across, in even horribly brighter pink. She wore a skirt and black leggings, and had her hair tied in two buns.

“Hey! Where’s the Enchanted Grotto?” She asked, realising how small this creature was.

The creature blinked at her once, twice, then grinned. Catra thought she saw a creepily long tongue slither out. Probably not.

“I know where it is! I can lead you there!” She beamed, and Catra raised an eyebrow. Suspiciously bubbly. Eh, any help was appreciated.

“Heh. Great. Where to?” She followed the stranger from a distance, looking around for any other paths. She wasn’t going to be blindly led into an alleyway for a mugging. And even if she did, she would hold her ground. It would be a great tale to tell when she finally arrived at her destination.

“Uh, hell no.” A stern voice cut through them, and a hand extended, separating Catra from the small pink creature. “Double Trouble, cut this out.” It was a girl, and her body followed her arm, becoming a barricade between Catra and … Double Trouble?

“Aww, but I was having so much fun!” Double Trouble winked at Catra. “Maybe I’ll see you again, Kitten.” They slinked off, pink visage blending with the crowd.

“Whew, that was a close one.”

“What?!” Catra frowned, as the female in front of her turned around. She had blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. A white long sleeved shirt was partially covered by a half-sleeve red jacket. Grey pants accentuating muscular legs followed down, and Catra realised she was checking out a complete stranger. She brought her eyes back up, hoping she had not been caught.

“Yeah, Double Trouble doesn’t mean harm, they just like dragging people around Bright Moon like a tour guide. You’re looking for the Enchanted Grotto? I can take you there.”

“I could have handled that myself!” Catra spat out, furious. The adorable snort mixed with laughter from the girl killed her anger instantly.

“Of course you could. I’m Adora. I can bring you there.”

‘Oh. OH.’ Catra smacked herself. Adora. Relative of Mara. The Adora. The same Adora she had been stalking online. Seeing her in real life… was really different. A good different. Without filters and angled shots, Adora looked… real.

“Catra.” Catra stuttered out, and froze when Adora grabbed her wrist.

“I’m headed there too, what a coincidence.” Adora grinned, a real, sincere grin, not what Double Trouble had presented. “So, Catra, what brings you to the Enchanted Grotto? It’s a very niche place.”

Catra tried to focus on walking. ‘Left foot. Right foot. Adora is holding my wrist, fuck, fuck fuCK! Left foot? Or was it right?’

“Catra?” Adora turned around to check on her companion once they reached a crosswalk.

“Hnh, yeah.” Catra’s brain struggled to think of something, grasping at anything she could use to hide the fact that she totally did not hear what Adora was saying. Her eyes landed on yet another familiar sight.

“Hey Adora,” Catra squirmed internally as she almost purred out Adora’s name. That was not supposed to happen! “Why are there so many statues of Mara, they got me lost.”

Adora laughed, and used her free hand to point to where Catra had laid her eyes on. “That’s the Mara statue of Hope. I met you near the statue of heroism. There’s an inscription reading ‘Mara, Our Hero’. Each Mara statue has a similar inscription, except the statue of friendship. It reads ‘Friend Of Mara’. Mara actually looks towards different directions. It’s supposed to guide us around.”

“Well, it clearly didn’t work.” Catra muttered, and wished her fur wasn’t so sweaty. She swore Adora’s hand slid down for a moment.

“Oh, green light, we gotta go.”

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

Catra’s communication pad had been silenced, but was vibrating furiously near her rear pocket. It had caught Adora’s attention as they walked from the bustling streets to a quieter pathway.

“Hey, your… butt is vibrating?” Adora cocked an eyebrow at Catra.

“It’s called a communication pad, genius.” Catra rebutted, and whipped the small device (modified courtesy of Entrapta) out, detaching her wrist from Adora’s grip. A regrettable decision.

“What?!” She answered, crankier than usual. Adora kept an eye on her, switching between several awkward poses to rest her now very empty hands.

“ Catra, where are you? Perfuma is going to show up anytime soon! ” Catra noticed Adora’s hands shifting from her hips to being folded, her biceps and triceps flexing with that change.

“Then let her! I’m on my way!” Catra hissed as Adora’s hands drifted back down, her fingers tucking into the belt around her pants.

“ But the surprise will be ruined! ”

“Surprise?” Catra frowned. “Scorpia, what do you me-”

“ Oops, I didn’t say anything! See you, Wildcat! ”

As much as that nickname brought a smile to Catra’s face, she rolled her eyes at Scorpia’s panic. A surprise, huh? She forgot all about it when Adora’s fingers wrapped around her wrist again.

“We’re almost there.” Adora stated as Catra slipped the block back into her pocket. “I’m really curious though.” Catra felt Adora’s eyes on her entire body. “I had no idea… Well, here’s the Enchanted Grotto.”

Adora waved at a group of people outside what seemed like a rundown, dead shop. The windows were pitch dark, but as they neared the building, she could make out some sort of weird singing and music blasting from speakers. Heh, the perks of having heightened senses.

“Hey guys!”

“Adora!” the group, consisting of three individuals waved back.

“I see you made a new friend.” The tallest of the trio, a boy with dark hair, a clean undercut, and a tight muscle shirt waggled his eyebrows. “I’m Bow, nice to meet you!”

Behind him was a shorter female, her hair dyed(?) a shade between pink and purple, seemingly glittering as the sole lamppost hovered above her. Clad in a loose, sleeveless outfit, she was engaged in a whispered conversation with another female.

“Perfuma!” Adora waved, trying to get her attention. “Meet Catra!”

“Catra?” Bow’s head could have snapped with that speed, switching between Catra and Adora abruptly. “Catra?”

“Yep, that’s my name.” Catra crossed her arms. “Got a problem with it?”

“No! Not at all!” Bow shook his head, hands in front of him in a defensive stance. Catra immediately pegged him down as a softie. Just like Scorpia.

“Bow!” Adora nudged her friend, and he shrugged. “Catra, these are my friends. Glimmer.”

The one with sparkling hair gave a curt wave..

Catra smirked. What an appropriate name. “Nice to meet you, Sparkles.”

“It’s Glimmer.” she corrected, and Adora released Catra’s wrist. Again. “This is-”

“Perfuma.” Catra and Perfuma said in unison, and relaxed their tense postures.

“Yes, you’re acquainted.” Adora mumbled, and Glimmer wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into the establishment.

“It is nice to see you again, Catra. I hope you will enjoy this evening.” Perfuma smiled, and Catra gave a generic response absent mindedly, eyes fixed on Adora and Glimmer.

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

Inside the Enchanted Grotto, things were very different. They had stepped past a screen of magic properties, which had blocked out most of the noise coming from within.

The whole group seemed familiar with the place, waving to the staff and strolling in with a sense of confidence. Except Catra. She didn’t hate it, surprisingly. The decor was pleasant. The whole floor was dimly lit, save a few brighter bulbs along a separate corridor. There was a main stage, and a few tables scattered before it.

Instrumental music was blasting, and a man was belting out a cheesy love song on stage. He was practically wailing the high notes into the microphone, and Catra winced as she shuffled along to the brighter bulbs.

Bow was behind all of them, herding them towards a private room. The bulbs in the corridor led to a quieter, secluded lobby, different coloured lights hanging before different doors.

“The Red Garnet.” Perfuma squealed, and pranced towards the red light.

“You know, not everyone approves of this place. Some even disapprove of it.” Bow whispered to Catra, and she shot him a questioning look.

“The folk here are what some consider to be… different.” Bow explained.

Catra thought about Scorpia and Perfuma. Or Adora and Glimmer. Could it be? They were about to enter the room, and she wanted to get an answer from Bow.

“Is it because Bright Moon doesn’t support G-”

“Group Karaoke! You’re absolutely right!” Bow clapped Catra on the back, and she nearly fell over.

“Group Karaoke?” There was no time to process her thoughts and Bow’s statement, as she tripped straight into the private room.

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

Of course, she regained her balance, turning an unsightly fall into a proper entrance. As proper as a very wide stride could get. Her eyes, luckily, adjusted to the lighting quickly, and she spotted Scorpia in the corner, Perfuma already by her side.

“Oh hey, Wildcat.” Scorpia had that look. THAT LOOK! Catra was familiar with it. Everytime Scorpia had something up her sleeve (an ironic phrase, as Scorpia wore sleeveless clothing exclusively), she had that look of guilt. She couldn’t hide it, and it was a telling sign.

“Scorpia!” Catra lunged forward, squeezing Scorpia towards Perfuma, and lodging herself in the corner. The couch rounded into a three-quarter, with Adora and Glimmer sitting on the other end. Bow found his spot between Perfuma and Glimmer, looking at everyone excitedly.

“You knew about this, didn’t you. I really overshare sometimes!” Catra hissed into Scorpia’s ear, and Scorpia laughed nervously.

“They’re friends of Perfuma!” Scorpia protested, as Catra narrowed her eyes.

“ She ’s a friend of Perfuma. And you didn’t tell me!” Catra gritted her teeth. “And they didn’t post pictures online?”

“They did! You just don’t follow Perfuma.” Scorpia pouted, and Catra gave up.

“Fine, my bad. Say, you never told me what’s going on.”

“Oh.” Scorpia looked genuinely surprised. “Oh.”

“GROUP KARAOKE!” Bow yelled, opening the wooden box in front of them, revealing 2 wireless microphones.”

“I thought he was joking!” Catra groaned, and buried her face into her hands.

“There, there.” Scorpia patted her with her heavy claws, and Catra choked.

“Alright, you know the drill, guys. Everyone has to sing a song.”

Perfuma cheered, and Bow continued, “No singing, and you get a penalty issued by all members present.”

“This is horrible.” Catra moaned.

“As we all know, we have two new participants joining us today! Perfuma’s girlfriend, the lovely powerhouse Scorpia!”

Scorpia waved as Perfuma leaned into her.

“And Scorpia’s friend, and also, Adora’s new friend, Catra! She appears in Scorpia’s feed so much!”

Bow was dragged down by both Glimmer and Adora, unintelligible muffles unable to be deciphered. Catra looked at Scorpia, who evaded her gaze, crossing over to sit between Perfuma and Bow instead.

“Wow, look at that, I’m going to sing first!” She reached for the microphone, aided by Perfuma. The rest cheered her on.

Catra sank back into the couch, training her gaze on Adora and Glimmer. Were they…?

Adora was leaning against Glimmer, who was patting her hand. The same hand that held Catra’s wrist.

“Ew! Adora, your hand’s all sweaty.” Glimmer complained, and Adora blushed.

“Sickening.” Catra muttered, her eyes refusing to leave them. Her ears however, had shifted to appreciate Scorpia’s amazing singing. Damn, she knew her friend could sing, but ever since she moved to Plumeria, she had not had a chance to hear her strong vocals. Scorpia was a completely different person in her element, full of raw confidence, charm, and even some cockiness as she winked in the middle of her song. Perfuma swooned and even Catra could see why Scorpia had won her over.

Bow was next, belting out a song about friendship, with Glimmer joining in. Catra however, was still focused on Adora.

The same Adora who held her hand and made her heart skip a bit, made her feel giddy. The same Adora who snorted in such a cute manner. The same Adora whom she had stalked online, with so much determination Scorpia had suggested Catra make a move. Catra had refused, of course, instead scrolling her feed of Adora’s pictures. The professional athlete, relative of Mara (effectively making her a princess of Etheria), was actually in the same room as her.

AND FLIRTING WITH GLIMMER, APPARENTLY! Catra growled at the last thought, causing Perfuma to look at her with alarm.

Bow ended his song with a deep bow, passing the microphone to Adora.

“Uh, not now.” Adora looked at Perfuma desperately.

“We all know I like to end Karaoke sessions with heavy metal.” Perfuma took the other microphone. “I think we should let Catra sing.” she smiled at the astonished girl.

“Absolutely not!” Catra pushed the microphone away.

“Penalty! Penalty!” Bow chanted, and Scorpia joined in.

“Catra’s penalty should be to go out on a date with someone we choose.” Perfuma clapped her hands together, and Catra balked at the suggestion.

“Penalty! Penalty!” Bow resumed, and Catra felt betrayed by Adora’s addition to the cheer.

“Fine, fine!” She snatched the microphone, and the controls. “I’ll sing a stupid song!”

Scorpia actually lifted Catra with her claw, shifting her to the middle of the couch.

“Urgh! Why are all the songs so old?!” Catra grimaced.

“That’s what’s so great about the Enchanted Grotto!” Bow gave her a thumbs up.

From the corner of her eye, Catra caught Glimmer whispering into Adora’s ear, and they both giggled, Adora snorting again. Alright, that was the last straw. A familiar song was an easy choice, although Catra barely remembered the lyrics. She only remembered her preteen self being fuelled with a sense of rebellious courage and the melody of the song.

“Oooh, bold choice.” Scorpia pushed Catra up, and she responded with an angry yowl. “Go get her, Wildcat! I mean, er, go get ‘em, Wildcat!”

The mini stage had a mic stand, which Catra ignored. A display in front of her lit up, the lyrics appearing with a countdown. Ah yes, those familiar words. Just like how she remembered.

As the background music started, Catra smirked, her usual confidence returning in a snap.

Hey! Hey! You! You!

I don't like your girlfriend

No way! No way!

I think you need a new one

Hey! Hey! You! You!

I could be your girlfriend

She saw Glimmer’s eyes widen, and Bow’s jaw drop. Heh. The lyrics were… more embarrassing than she remembered, but what the hell, she was already going with it. Perfuma and Scorpia actually joined in the background

Hey! Hey! You! You!

Catra smirked, looking directly at Adora

I know that you like me

Oh shit, she was mouthing the lyrics and staring at Catra

No way! No way!

You know it's not a secret

Catra turned back to the mini screen, glancing at the lyrics.

Hey! Hey! You! You!

I want to be your girlfriend

Oh god, what was her preteen self doing? Not looking at the lyrics, for sure.

You're so fine, I want you mine, You're so delicious

Not a lie.

I think about you all the time, You're so addictive

Don't you know what I can do to make you feel all right?

Her mind worked quickly as she changed the lyrics

Don't pretend, I think you know I'm damn precious

And hell yeah, you’re my mother fucking princess

Catra enjoyed how Adora’s blank stare evolved to a blush. Hell yeah!

I can tell you like me too, and you know I'm right

Glimmer let out a “whoo!”, fist pumping along to the beat. Heh, maybe it was her preteen anthem as well.

She's like, so whatever

You can do so much better

As the hook rounded to the chorus, everyone was cheering now. Except Adora. And of course, the adrenaline and defiance egged her on, as she took a step off the stage and towards Adora, practically stalking around her with the aura of a predator.

I think we should get together now

She looked at Adora with sultry eyes (Glimmer would describe it as bedroom eyes later), and Adora let out a strained gurgle. Catra pushed off, leaping back onto the elevated platform.

And that's what everyone's talking about

She repeated the chorus again, her preteen self roaring with pride. She licked her lips, deciding to strike again.

I can see the way, I see the way you look at me

And even when you look away, I know you think of me

I know you talk about me all the time again and again

She pointed at Adora, curling her finger towards her.

So come over here and tell me what I wanna hear

Adora actually nodded dumbly, almost rising from her seat.

Or better, yet, make your girlfriend disappear

I don't wanna hear you say her name ever again

Her steely glare at Glimmer was met with a bewildered look and a high pitched “I’m not?!”

Catra rolled her eyes, grinning triumphantly at that realisation. The next verse meant nothing, but she was way too pumped up.

Because

She's like so whatever

You can do so much better

I think we should get together now

And that's what everyone's talking about

She entered the chorus again, Bow joining Scorpia and Perfuma in yelling the alternate chorus verses.

Uh!

Adora wiped at her mouth at that sound as Catra started the bridge.

In a second you'll be wrapped around my finger

'Cause I can, 'cause I can do it better

Catra was now brimming with an absurd assertiveness, bending over the stage to meet Adora’s eyes.

There's no other, so when's it gonna sink in

She's so stupid, what the hell were you thinking?

Adora looked away quickly, her head turned but her eyes still darting back to the stage.

In a second you'll be wrapped around my finger

Adora yelped as her chin was grabbed suddenly, pulled back to look at Catra who was right in front of her.

'Cause I can, 'cause I can do it better

There's no other, so when's it gonna sink in

She's so stupid, what the hell were you thinking?

Glimmer joined in the chorus now, sliding beside Bow. Their fingers intertwined, raised as they sang the background vocals.

The chorus seemed to repeat itself forever, and Catra could do nothing but lean in real close to Adora while singing. As she approached the last verse of the chorus, she switched off the mic, leaving the ensemble chanting.

I want to be your girlfriend

She softly finished the song, her breath tickling Adora’s now bright red ear.

Hey Hey!

The rest finished, and the music died, slamming them back into reality.

Catra was now panting from her performance, and strangely, Adora was as well.

“Pee break?” Bow jumped up and nearly ran into the door trying to get out.

“Uh, right. Pee breaks. Be back in five.” Glimmer hugged Perfuma and Scorpia, and teleported out in a shimmer.

“Uh. Huh. Mmm.” Adora babbled, looking at Catra’s face.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot.” Catra pushed off the couch, releasing Adora from that pin. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no!” Adora stood up, grabbing onto Catra’s wrist again. “Don’t be?”

Catra realised it wasn’t her wrist and fur being sweaty all along.

“So, er, yeah.” Adora covered the bottom half of her face, doing little to hide her blush. Not that it was obvious with the lighting.

“Huh?”

“You want to be my girlfriend?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

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

Epilogue:

“I’ve actually been following you on some pages with my personal account.” Catra admitted.

“What? I’ve been trying to find it since forever!” Adora pouted, ruffling Catra’s short hair. “Catra! What’s your account name?”

Catra paused, giving into Adora’s pets and scratches near her jawline.

“Tell me~”

“Only if you kiss me.” Catra grumbled and Adora gave her a short, swift peck.

“That totally didn’t count.” Catra huffed, and Adora placed both hands on Catra’s cheeks. “Tongue and we’ll talk.”

“Is it AdoraFan01? Or WatermelonCrusher? Or TinyBaby4Adora?”

“Hey!” Catra yelled before Adora pressed their lips together, tongue sliding in with Catra’s gasp. Catra gave in completely, Adora licking her lips in victory when they parted.

“Fine.” Catra passed her her pad.

“You can’t be serious.”

Catra rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Yes, I’m ApplesauceMeowMeow”

[lemonietrinket]

Save A Nation ||| Johnny x Reader

Summary: Johnny knows how hot he is. Oh he knows. He also knows that a certain someone has had a crush on him for a very long time. And he also knows you’re not confident enough to address it. But this is the catch for you, you see: because he is. Genre: Fluff? I don’t think it is... But it ain’t exactly hardcore smut, is it? If ya’ll wanna kiss John Seo then this is a fic that caters to that very purpose, kk Warning(s): Johnny.  Word Count: 2965 how is this longer than the min&joo one wHaT Theme Songs: Flower Shower - Hyuna; Who Is In Your Heart Now? - Studio Killers AN: December 13 prompt, mistletoe! (credit: @songi-writes) Also, can we have some more appreciation for Johnny’s lips pls. They are the definition of beautiful!  And also my man Johnny in general like come on guys he’s out here serving looks, personality and comedy on a diamond encrusted plate my dudes, give him some attention

Set in a university.

~~~

The party was loud. A butchered club-remixed christmas song hammered the speakers at the hands of a completely sozzled DJ, as the throng of people shimmering like hyper-flammable lycra ebbed and flowed with the beat like shoals of plastic fish beneath the cheap strobe lights. House parties were never that good, if you were honest. But this one. This one was spectacular.

You wished you could say the reason for you believing so was actually good, or anywhere close to rational. But alas, it was not, since your reason was literally a boy.

Not just any old boy, though, in your defence. No no, it was the one of those god-crafted creatures whose blessed features had been cropping up in your line of sight ever since the beginning of the year. At the cafe, at the mall... Even in your favourite hidden-gem vintage charity shop.

One of those boys.

It was if Fate wanted you to do something.

But you never would. Never. 

Because you knew who this boy was.

Johnny Seo.

God of charisma, king of basketball, comedy gold. He was on the front of the university monthly magazine for nearly every edition, he had his own radio show, he got extra-special discounts at several bars because he was just so...

He was in the choir for god’s sake, and he was the one person no one made fun of for it. 

There was no way you would risk ousting yourself out for ridicule like that. You may not be the smartest in the world, but you knew that asking him out for him to inevitably turn you down would make you the laughing stock for the rest of the year. And that was the best case scenario. 

It wasn’t like you thought poorly of yourself, not at all. You were intelligent, and talented, and certainly attractive enough.  It’s just you knew you lacked something. The thing that separated him from everyone else. The thing that made him destined for the stars whilst everyone else settled for the moon. The thing that no doubt made you feel head over heels for him when you’d barely even spoken to him. 

It wasn’t your way to do things at all, but here you were. Caught in a daze, admiring him as he spoke to someone else.

You were so out of it, you hadn’t even noticed that that someone was actually your best friend. She didn’t see what you saw in the guy, and merely laughed at you when she caught you like this, rolling her eyes every time you stuttered an flimsy explanation at her. 

This time you were purely snagged on his lips alone.

Soft, gentle, the gateway to all the secrets that he knew, and all the words he could inspire the world with. Hand-drawn by an artist and delicately positioned on his features, their ulterior motive to make those lips hurt you as you dreamt of running the pads of your fingertips across them, touching them with your own, seeking a sanctuary and your own hell in them. 

God, it wasn’t fair.

Whoever got to kiss them even only once must have saved a nation in a past life.

.

.

Caught in your daydream, you were hardly subtle.

You never were.

Johnny couldn’t help but glance over at you whenever he had the opportunity, and it didn’t change in this case either. Even if your best friend was watching. Maybe if she noticed she’d urge you to do something after all.

He cracked a smile, completely unrelated to what your best friend was saying, at the thought of how shy you were. You just didn’t want to cause anyone trouble, whether it be him, your best friend, or yourself. You wouldn’t want to even be a trouble to the people you no doubt had invented in your own head, purely as a reason to stop you from saying anything to him. No, you wouldn’t even want them to exert themselves in mocking you.  You were wiser than he ever was though because he just let himself flow into things head first and then talked his way out of the consequences, always relatively unscathed.

But the fact remained, you would never do something. So it was on him.

He hadn’t expected to see you around in the same places as much as he did. You’d had a lot more in common than he’d expected when he first saw you. He thought you’d have been into much... less ordinary things. 

He didn’t know really, maybe the sunlight had dazzled him then, but that day in the summer when he first saw you, your laugh rivalling the entire world’s music, your eyes rivalling the galaxies above, your lips...

He was entranced by them then, just as he was now, transfixed as they gradually parted to mouth the thoughts charging through your head.  He wondered what you were thinking, whether it was about him.

Oh who was he kidding, he knew it was about him. You were all he could think about too, after all. 

Suddenly, something knocked his arm.

He snapped his eyes away, lips curving into a charming smile familiar to you—the one that always appeared when he’d been caught doing doing he shouldn’t be doing. 

Sucked to be him though, because your best friend was extremely gay and hella proud of it, and so wasn’t having any of his antics. 

“Hey,” she shouted over the music, “she’s been pining after you for months on end, Mr I’m-Seo-Hot-And-I-Know-It. Put me out of my goddamn misery and kiss her already?”

He blinked at her, startled but relieved nonetheless.

He had the perfect idea, and this was the cue to enact it. 

.

.

You barely registered the fact he’d walked over before it was too late. Johnny’s drop-dead gorgeous face and unwavering stare was focused solely on you within a single blink. 

Your daze shattered as you were thrust into reality.

He then said something.

You panicked.

You hadn’t heard what he said. The music had stopped too at that very moment, parting the sound for you to hear his velvet smooth voice as well as Fate had garnered it so, and your dumb ass hadn’t even been listening. 

Too focused on the pools of onyx that made up his eyes.

You cursed to yourself in your head. Pull. Yourself. Together.

All he’d said was hi.

“Hey, I was talking to your friend. She said you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by the party and wanted to leave but since she was being selfish and didn’t want to, you’d been stuck here waiting for her?”

He waited diligently for you to respond. Eventually you nodded dumbly. Realising that was the best he was going to get, with a gentle smile, he continued, “Well, I was heading out, and will happily walk you back, if you’d like?”

That smile wasn’t one you recognised. 

You scolded yourself for feeling a spike of excitement at that thought. You haven’t seen him that much, you haven’t seen every smile that those lips of his have curved beautifully into.

You were just too eager to jump on the ‘he sees me differently from everyone else’ train.  Which was obviously a poor reaction, in your opinion.

Oh, how little you knew. 

You managed a word this time, however. Congrats. “Please.”

He flashed you his characteristic, bright, welcoming, dashing grin, offering out his hand for you to take.

He just wanted to help you out of your chair. A gentleman. The way your breath hitched at that much.

It wasn’t wise to take his hand though. Your hand would be clammy from the heat of the party, and your nerves from just being close to him. And he may suspect something.

Ha.

But it would be too smart to listen to your own mental advice, regardless. You took his hand instinctively, and got to your feet a little bit too fast for your own liking. 

And then he asked you another question. This time you didn’t hear because it was too loud. And you had no hope in hell in guessing what it was, because you’d ushered your eyes away from his own. His eyes were too good to look into for long periods of time. Unhealthy for you. They made you blush too hard.

Wait was he doing the long stare deliberately?

.

.

He presumed your coat, if you had one and he sure hoped you did because it was cold out and he didn’t want you sick, was by the door.

Leading you through the crowds, flashing that smile at a couple of people to get them to move, with his hand very very lightly brushing your shoulder to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowds. It was polite, but also protective. 

Maybe your past life had been pretty good. But had you saved a nation?

Probably not?

Reaching the porch, and seeing the mounds of coats, he sweat-dropped. Even if yours was in there, it would take forever to find it. 

“Hey, is your coat, like, not black?” he enquired, closing the door to block most of the sound from the other rooms.

You hesitated, forcing the cogs in your head to turn. Suddenly you hit a spark and remembered. “I didn’t have a coat with me. I forgot.”

He looked concerned to say the least, and you were confused as to why. Before you could think about it for even a second, he passed you a chic trench coat. It matched his outfit.

Oh no.

“I... no I—”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, catching onto your pause. He held it out, nodding his head and indicating for you to turn around. 

You obliged, and let him slip the coat over your arms, and up to your neck. Tying it up at the front by one button, it was huge on you. He’d forgotten how much taller he was than you.  Oh well, you looked absolutely adorable.

He could have kissed you right then. But he had to stick to the plan.

“Is it left or right to your apartment?” he asked, opening the front door to the cold outside.

.

.

Walking along the ice cold streets, at an awfully slow pace, you almost felt your heart return slightly back to normal. You felt bad for making him take such short steps, it being icy and yourself in nice but not exactly practical shoes for the weather. His legs were so long, you wondered what it was like to be tall. 

Actually, his legs were astoundingly proportioned, with those thighs—

“I know a shortcut, actually,” he announced, slightly out of the blue, especially for him.

Truth be told, he’d been trying to think of a way to get you to go with him to the tree. It wasn’t en-route at all, but he couldn’t think of a better excuse.

That being said, he couldn’t deny the impact taking in the sight of you had on his thought process.  It was a lot to handle, that was for sure.

“Oh, ok, sure.”

Turning the two of you into the park through the gate a few steps away, you quickly realised that there was no shortcut this way, having walked this way a couple of times before. But there was a real brightness in his eyes, and it wasn’t just the streetlights. He seemed excited. 

So you followed beside him, keeping up with his light conversation as best you could. Though you still couldn’t quite render what was going on. 

He’d asked you about your favourite bands, your favourite animals, what you liked to do on an evening. He moved onto deeper things, your opinions on the latest news events, whether you believed in ghosts, what you thought of conspiracy theories.

And though you were nervous, it didn’t feel wrong. Or worrying. Or unnatural. Eventually words began to flow from your lips like they normally did. Perhaps you were even more honest than you usually were. Johnny didn’t judge. In fact he just told more embarrassing stories about himself. Like where he’d got some of his scars from, some of the people he’d met, and what being in the choir was truly like.

“Honestly, I don’t know what those jocks are making fun of choir kids for,” he explained, “choir-ing is hard. Not only does everyone gossip over one another, but the teachers berate you too. There’s no loyalty in the choir, it’s a basket of snakes, all armed with not one knife, but two! Only the most wary and sly stay alive.”

“So how do you keep yourself alive then?” you asked, genuinely unable to see this man as ‘sly’.

“Good question, my secret, you see, is—” He glanced up, away from your face, to spot that he’d reached his destination. “—going to have to wait.”

Before you could protest, he utilised those long legs of his and took off quite far ahead, up the mound central to the park, crowned by a giant bare maple tree. You followed him, head and feet working separately as your eyes stared at him, where he waited.

You could still remember the folklore of the maple tree, told to you by your best friend when you met them under it. Fate made it so that if you kissed beneath it, your love would remain eternal. It was a bunch of crap really, because so many couples had kissed beneath its branches and broke up within weeks. You and your best friend had laughed about it numerous times before, hearing their sickly vows from where you sat in the summer a tree away, before making bets on how long they would—

Oh.

Your feet brought you to a standstill right in front of the man you’d admired from afar for so long.

“I’m sorry for dragging you a little further from your dorm,” he said, smiling sweetly and apologetically, “but I had an idea and I couldn’t let it go to waste.”

You noticed his hand, pointing upwards, above both him and you.

Your joints were heavy, out of shock and also the sheer will of wanting this to not be a dream.

There, above your head, was a sprig of mistletoe, tied to the branch and fluttering in the wind.

“I know we haven’t spoken much, but I’ve been so intrigued by you for the past year, and I know you have too,” he began, his words instantly bringing your focus back to him.

You pushed yourself to meet his stare. As much as it made you feel vulnerable, it felt so good to finally take them in at close proximity, to have them to yourself, to have him to yourself alone.

To you surprise, it was Johnny that looked away first, gaze looping to the grass, mottled with snow, as he continued, “And since I didn’t know how to move things forwards exactly, I decided that this would... well,” he looked back up, eyes glimmering with a smile at the corners, even if his lips did not follow, “it would at least be memorable, all cinematic, even if it didn’t...”

You stepped forwards, cold-blemished hands slowly edging up to his face.

Cupping his cheek, you flinched at how icy the skin you found there was, only to replace your hand with much more certainty after. His hand came up to hold yours, to press your palm into his skin.

It felt slightly rough, with some craft he no doubt could teach you. They were warm, strong, welcoming. You wanted to just, hold them. Between your fingers, against your cheek, to your heart.

You couldn’t manage to stare into his eyes any longer, the passion in his stare was too much to handle, and so you reverted to taking in the lines and shadows of his face.  You didn’t expect anyone this beautiful to even exist on earth and yet here a person was, with his soft skin and sculpted jaw and those inviting lips...

Shifting your hand out from his, you pulled it away, and instead to where you could feel his breath, cool and clouded upon your skin.

You pressed a single finger against the cushion of his bottom lip, running the pad across the etches, just as you’d dreamt of doing for so long. 

His hand came to meet yours once again, but instead held it still at his lips. And there he pressed a kiss into your fingerprint.

“May I kiss you properly?” 

You almost choked on your own heart at his words.

“Yes,” you whispered, standing as high as you could reach, your arms snaking around his neck to mirror his own actions, his hands dropping and holding you close by the waist. 

Your lips met and it was nothing like you’d imagined. It was so much more than that.

They were so much warmer, so much more sweet and delectable than you could have ever guessed. Ambrosian. You were in heaven by his touches alone, secure and protected from the cold and cruelty of the rest of the world, even if only for a moment. How could you have lived without this the whole of your life?

His hair was smooth to touch, as you wrung some tresses between your fingers, soaking up as much of him as you could.

He didn’t pull away until you did. And you only did so because you had lost all of your air.

You breathed heavily as you shivered in his arms, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Kiss me again?” you pleaded, voice barely anything more than the breeze.

He opened his eyes, fingers reaching up and stroking your hair away from your face. “Gladly.”

How many nations had you saved?

~~~

AN: Edited, and I honestly don’t understand how I expected you guys to understand some parts lol It’s legible now tho!

With some extra tidbits too yeee ....!

Hope you enjoyed!

Masterlist

.

.

Edited: 16th December 2019

Re-edited: part way through 3rd February 2020