#but she can burn a few (million) bridges along the way

[i-know-the-endss]

“sydney healing era” this and “sydney deserves a happy ending” that

i need sydney clarke to go batshit crazy. i need her to rage. i need her to let herself grieve and be angry and destroy everything in her path - until she ultimately finds peace.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

White Flag-ish

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing

The Empyrean was on their side, were that not the case, Adam and his makers would have taken the ship back over in a matter of minutes, but instead they found the empyrean unresponsive to their commands while simultaneously eager to follow along with her more human crew.

The bridge stations had stopped working, unless the construct running it made a decision.Down around the rest of the ship, the makers were unable to access the weapons systems or the equipment. One thing after another kept going wrong for Adham, who now stood in the middle of the mess with a look of incredulity slowly growing into permanency on his face.

Out the bridge doors, down the short hall and into the main atrium of the ship, the SE soldiers now gathered, geared up in their new model SE armor, waiting for instructions. I'm the Ship’s hangers, pilots were setting about preparing their fighters for battle, but looking out the front viewscreen, Adam noted, among the corrupted Void ships, plenty of regular vessels as well, running on warp energy rather than recycled void energy.

It seemed as if the constructs would be on both sides of this conflict.

Adam turned to look at Adham, where he stood floundering and ineffectual on the bridge floor. He floated a little lower, releasing control of the Empyrean to her own devices for the moment being.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, but you were being unreasonable and I wasn’t about to sit back on the sidelines and watch. I want us to work together, I really do, but I need you to understand that I am not yours to order around. I am not your child, I am not your responsibility. Any actions I take here are my own, and as well informed as they can be. I realize I may not have had a few million years to think about it, but  to me a few years is time enough to decide that there is no power in this universe that can stop me from protecting my children, do you understand that.”

The two men stood at odds.

The first man, and just some guy.

Adham was the perfect representation of what the architect had wanted when he built a human construct. Ageless, placeless, and entirely ambiguous in all ways, Adham looked at Adam, and with a long, deep sigh, he stepped back, “This is an argument i will not win.”

“No.”

“But I maintain my control over my men.” He glanced around at the ship, “I defer to your piloting skills as the Empyrean seems to trust you.”

A little spark of warmth spilled through Adam’s chest.

Having the Empyrean was like going to a friend’s party with a bunch of other people, but the dog still chooses to come sit with you. It was that feeling but about a million more times potent.

He was glad that the Empyrean trusted him because in return he planned to trust her.

It wasn’t an agreement they could entirely hash out in the moment as, just then, the comms specialist rose to her feet and turned to look at Adam, “Sir, we have an incoming communication from the central enemy ship.”

Adam squinted out the window at the large mass of black metal and jutting edges. Orange light flared along the seams in her body. When the orange light burned iit burned dirty, and had they been in atmosphere, Adam might have imagined thick black smoke billowing out from the engines.

“Sir, It's kazna.”

Adam felt the line of his mouth twitch in distaste, but he motioned sunny forward.

She nodded, stepping up the ramp and onto the command platform with him. If he was going to verbally toe to toe with the black general, than he was going to use his greatest weapons as an advantage.

The Saint of Anin, who knew Kazna almost better than anyone else in the universe.

“Patch her through.”

The holo blinked once and then went dim. At first he thought they were still waiting for it to load, until his vision readjusted and he realized that the room they looked onto was just incredibly dark. It was the general’s eyes he saw first, glowing and golden peering out from the black dimness as shadows swirled around her.

It had been some time since he had seen her in person. In fact, the last time he had seen her, she had been busy running a spear through his chest, but it seemed that, since then, her power had only grown. The shadows were deeper, blacker, but also thicker as they rolled over and around her body like so much sentient curling smoke.

Adam retracted the helmet of his SE armor back into his suit. He wanted her to be able to see the disdain on his face while he spoke to her. Maybe it was petty perhaps, but either way it certainly made him feel better to know that she could see how muh he hated her.

“Human” She said by way of greeting not bothering to lift the disdain from her voice.

He raised his chin, “Drev.” 

If she was going to play that game, than so was he.

“You have entered the territory of Apollyon. Leave now, and this does not have to break into conflict. Our business here is none of your concern.”

Adam snorted, raising an eyebrow in incredulity, “You plan to blow up the universe, kill everything in it, and unmake our souls, forgive me if I have a hard time trying to figure out how that isn’t my business.”

Kazna crossed her arms, beside her, her massive three pronged trident glittered in the half dark.

“You could return home, to your family,  spend what time you have left with them instead of embarking on this fruitless adventure.”

He shook his head, “That's not how this works Kazna. Given the option between going home right now and spending the next few days with my kids before they never exist again, and beating your ass, getting rid of apollyon and then returning home to my kids to watch them grow old, fall in love, have kids of their own before I eventually die and become one of the Makers….. Well to me there really isn’t much of a choice.”

The general sighed and shook her head slowly.

She was silent for a long moment before turning to look at Sunny who floated, quietly bristling next to Adam, Do you let thai human speak for you? Or has he finally succeeded in turning you into his obedient breeder.” Adam bristled, fists clenching,  Immediately ready to reach through the holo and strangle Kazna, but Sunny raised a hand.

“I stand beside my battle partner of my own free will, and with all the power of my soul…. Can you say the same,”

As it seemed, that little barb struck a nerve, and Kazna snarled, her golden eyes flaring in the half dark, ‘I would be perfectly content in allowing thai conversation to end here, and to begin the battle that lies ahead, but Apollyon is more reasonable than I and he wishes to discuss terms on neutral ground.”

Adam crossed his arms, “How does a creature that exists outside of time and space understand the customs of a truce.”

Kazna raised her hands, “it's simple, this filthy universe has forced him to take on a shape and a coherent consciousness. He has watched your kind for long enough to understand. He wishes to send a delegation to meet with the architect’s emissaries to discuss terms, see if we can’t come to a decision that is beneficial to us all.

Adham laughed, finally putting aside his annoyance at Adam and coming to join them, “Apollyon doesn’t make compromises, he will look to bully us into his position and make it seem like it was our idea.”

Kazna shrugged, “I do not yet know his offer, but you will never know unless you accept the invitation.”

“He must agree to come under the flag of truce or no deal.” Adham said white robes billowing lightly around him as he spoke.

“Those terms are acceptable.”

“How many.” Adam asked, “How many delegates can we bring.”

“You get enough to fit in your small shuttle and we shall do the same. There is a derelict ship that lies in no man's land between our two armies. It used to be a black hole research facility…..”

Adam felt his skin go a little cold, slightly clammy despite the moisture wicking suit that he wore,  That couldn’t be the same research station he was thinking of. He had been there before some time back, and the station had been home to thousands of human researchers and military members supporting research for the black hole.

Kazna saw the look on his face, and hummed with a tone of black amusement, “yes, it is one and the same.””

“How did…. How did we not know?” How had they not heard about the loss of an entire space station, and the thousands of people on board. Shouldn’t someone have said something, if not the families of those who had been stationed there.

How could they have missed it?

Kazna chuckling grew, “The station was taken over during hunt’s presidency towards the end during the invasion of earth. All support for the research stations around the galaxy were cut off, and then subsequently lost in the bureaucratic shuffle. WIth no one in charge of taking care of them, there was no one for the families to go to to ask about their missing loved ones.” She tilted her head back the other way, unnervingly slow, like a cat contemplating an injured bird, “Apollyon enjoyed toying with their minds, perfecting the art.”

If Adam had the ability to ask a genie for a superpower in that moment, he would have wished to be able to kill someone telepathically, but even so all of his efforts were fruitless.

“We will meet on the derelict.”

“How do we know you're not springing a trap there.” Adam shot back, “Seems hardly like neutral ground, a dead space station on apollyon controlled territory. Perhaps it isn’t a derelict, and everyone there is simply a zombie, and the moment we step on you will turn them on us.”

Kazna rolled the haft of her spear between her hands, “Oh I assure you, no one is alive, and I am sure your ships bio scans will detect the same thing.”

“Traps then.”

Kazna shook her head, “There are no traps, he really does wish to speak.”

“Funny how I don’t believe you.”

“Funny how you have no other options if you want to have this conversation.” She said

Behind her orange light pulsed dimly with anticipation, casting her face into silhouette..”

“Will you accept these terms?”

Adam thought about it for a moment and then took a deep breath, “Fine, but if you try any funny business, I am going to have lord Avex blast that place to Kingdom Come, The little bastard is bloodthirsty, he won’t even feel bad.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

And then the comms went dead.

[todayisafridaynight]

(Long ask incoming oops)

Okay so ORIGINALLY I was just gonna casually write down a list of song recs for you because I realize sending them in one at a time gets too cluttered so it’d be better to just send them all at once after CASUALLY adding to the list over the course of like,,, a week or so,,,

Anyways I decided to do that 2 hours ago and the list was already so long that I’m deciding to send it now instead of letting it accumulate to like 50 songs GDGDFDF so YEAH ANYWAYS:

Walk by Foo Fighters

- Masato/aoki GET IT BECAUSE WALKING- but no fr like this makes me think of that final scene between him and ichi and the vibes that could’ve been if he didn’t die and actually tried not being a piece of shit <3

Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars

- ew a radio hit gross, but I have such a strong vision of an edit or amv with Kiryu and Ichi jamming to this song (definitely not purely because of the ‘make a dragon wanna retire’ like nope definitely not because of that)

Please, Please, Please Let me get what I want by The Dream Academy

- honestly this could literally be the rgg anthem LETS BE SO REAL but I attach it to Kiryu especially </3

Let Me Be Sad by I Prevail

- you already know daigo had this on repeat on his iPod shuffle especially during y4 I mean come on ‘I put up walls so if I burn any bridges just know I’m doing everything I can to try and fix it’?? HES JUST DOING HIS BEST WHILE LITERALLY IN MOURNING KIRYU PLEASE (+ I saw this band live the other day and couldn’t help but imagine Daigo screaming along like the little emo he is lm a o)

Let Down by Radiohead

- okay I was SO CERTAIN I already saw this recommended to you but I can’t find the ask so I’ll just pretend I’m super smart and original 🤞 anyways Y2 daigo OBVS (can you tell I… think about him a lot…)

Brutus by The Buttress

- //shamefully sliding it in// it’s nishiki’s song and I know you couldn’t give less of a shit but it’s quite literally so on the nose that I have to include it just for my own sanity

Nun I’d Change by Reverb King

- I’m sorry but this is 100% the song I think of when I think of mine on that sigma grindset (plus haha the chorus is literally just ‘fly’ repeated a million times)

(,,,Okay there are way too many Minedai songs I have that either require very little explanation or are just purely based on vibes so here’s them all in their own neat little section)

- Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men (YUCK another radio hit this is so sad)

- Show Me How by Men I Trust

- Door by IDKHBTFM

- White Flag by Dido

- Agora Hills by Doja Cat (LISTEN- I have very strong thoughts abt Minedai office PDA and I think this encapsulates that about as well as a generic pop song could </3 plus she mentions tattoos so yeah it’s canon)

- Under You by Foo Fighters (Daigo thinking about Mine </3 also the lyrics ‘there are days I can’t remember, there are days that last forever’ make me think about how from his pov one moment he’s in his office being shot and then the next he’s watching his boyfriend jump of a ruff whoops…. I’m sure that moment plays in his head all too often…)

- A thousand years by Christina Perri (OKAY THIS ONE IS A BIT OF A MEME but can you imagine a fucking 2010 Minedai edit to this like JSGDGDGDGDGG)

- Vanilla Twilight by Owl City (listen I had an owl city phase don’t even look at me)

I try to pick songs that don’t expose me for the chronically online iPad-kid that I am but </3 I know a few ‘tiktok songs’ made it in there sowwy 😔

SONG LIST PALOOZA OH MY STARS god bless....... thank you so much champ....

[cophene]

027 || ☆ ⁺ « A DEATH SENTENCE.

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pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them  a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and pretty-faced crew notes : sci-fi au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 3.1k+

★˚⋆ FUGO REALIZED HE HAD NEVER known what a nightmare was before this. Nightmares weren’t being chased or injured or horrified. They were to be completely unmoored, utterly helpless in the face of what the stars had dealt you. 

He watched Mista stumble back onto the bridge, breathing heavily. Each breath was a gasp. Painful.

“We have to go after them,” he managed to say. “We can still catch up. We just have to get to them.”

“We can’t,” Fugo had to say. “The thrusters came on already. We’re not in the Black Zone anymore.”

“Then we flacking go back!” Mista roared. “We just lost our Captain, you asshole! What else are we supposed to do?”

“Don’t you dare yell at me,” Fugo said. “You went out with the Captain, not me. You were the one who was supposed to catch them.”

“You came up with this flacking plan!”

“I never told the Captain to go! It was just a plan!”

“Guys, what’s going on?” Narancia stumbled onto the bridge. Fugo swore under his breath. He had told everyone to wait in their rooms until he called them. Did no one flacking listen to him anymore?

“Where’s the Captain?”

“We have to keep going,” Fugo said, ignoring Narancia. “We’ll go through the Bend Gate. Get to Minos. That’s what the Captain told you, isn’t it?”

“You can go wherever the flack you want. I’m taking a pod back to find the Captain.”

Narancia sounded like a lost child. “You lost the Captain?” 

“Like hell you will.” Fugo went to grab Mista’s arm when he started off. He wrenched out of Fugo’s grasp like it burned. “That’s a death sentence, Mista. The Captain is gone. We have to move on.”

“We can’t just leave without trying!” “Haven’t you been stupid enough? Can’t you at least listen to me just this once?”

Mista bared his teeth. “I knew you never cared about us, Fugo, but you can’t just blatantly disrespect the Captain like this. You’ve spent the past few years under their command for what?”

Fugo wanted to punch Mista so bad it felt like his arm was electrified. He stormed back to his seat. Forced himself to take deep breaths.

Mista was wrong to accuse Fugo of not caring. He didn’t bust his ass for this crew everyday for the money. He did it because the Captain had been willing to give him a chance. They had been willing every time Fugo screwed up. In a way that few people could, the Captain seemed to empathize with Fugo. Seemed to care about him and actually look out for his well being. 

Losing that?

Losing the Captain?

Stars, Fugo could hardly think about it. If he did, he would end up like Mista, irrational, reckless and stupid.

The crew couldn’t afford that right now.

“What’s going on?” Trish was here now. She looked between everyone. Her voice quavered. “Where’s the Captain?”

Fugo closed his eyes. If there was ever a time to give up, it was now. They had lost their general, their voice of reason. The army couldn’t fight without its general.

But Fugo’s plan with Prince Rikkiel was still in place. He had sent the prince the coordinates to Minos as soon as he’d gotten them. He would be waiting there, along with a legion of Imperial guards to arrest Zero once he arrived. 

And not only that—

“Where’s JoJo?” Fugo asked. As if he’d been listening the entire time, JoJo came onto the bridge, standing a little behind everyone else.

Fugo gave him a hard glare. He was going by pure intuition and gut instinct. Other than that, there were really no clues. His hair and eyes were different, as well as his demeanor and entire character. But the way his face would twitch, and those momentary lapses when it seemed like someone else was there . . . 

“We’re continuing without the Captain, then?” JoJo asked. Fugo’s point exactly. He acted shy but he was always quick to get at the heart of the matter.

“No, we’re going after the Captain,” Mista said, setting his jaw. His words came out in a rush.  “We’ll drift back into the Black Zone like we did before. People said it was impossible to survive and look at what we just did. All we have to do—”

He stopped. Everyone did. People tended to do that when Purple Haze made an appearance.

“We’re not doing anything like that,” Fugo gritted out. The smart thing to do would be to recall his Stand before it melted someone’s face off, but he needed everyone to shut up for a minute.

“We’re a thieving crew. And more than that, one under the employ of the most infamous man in the galaxy. If it weren’t for our Stand abilities, we would be dead by now.” Fugo met each crew member’s eye. “We’re obligated to carry out our job. Going back to get the Captain would take too long. We only have two weeks left; less than that. Even if we could find the Captain, Zero would kill us by the time we get out. Right now, the choice to me seems either to risk everyone’s deaths, or honour the Captain’s sacrifice and continue on. The Captain banked everything on this job. They would’ve wanted us to continue no matter what.”

No one said anything. They were thinking, though. Fugo dismissed his Stand.

“We’ll vote,” Fugo said. “All in favour of continuing on, raise your hand.”

Fugo raised his hand. He waited. 

He waited until everyone had raised their hand. Even Mista.

“If we continue on, we’d be doing it under your leadership?” Mista asked. Fugo couldn’t read the tone in his voice.

“If there are no objections.”

“You’re heartless and callous, I think there are a few objections.” Mista glowered at Fugo. He looked off into the distance for a few moments. Sighed. “But you’re right when you say the Captain would have wanted us to continue. They made me swear it. And I don’t think I’m in the right mindset to be leading anything right now.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

For the first time, Fugo noticed Mista’s eyes were red. He kept blinking, holding back tears.

He thrust his hand out.

“Promise me you won’t get us killed, you bag of flack.”

Fugo took Mista’s hand and shook it firmly.

“I don’t intend to.”

He let go of Mista’s hand and turned to Narancia. He looked up at Fugo, barely managing to scrub away a tear that fell down his cheek. Behind him, he heard Trish stifle a sob.

They would get through this. Fugo would make sure of it. 

It was what the Captain would have wanted. It was what all of his plans were banking on.

“Set a course for Minos. We don’t have time to waste.”

They were silent for two days. Zero would know, with how many times he attempted to call both Sheila and Passione.

It would be an overstatement to say that he was worried. Zero was irritated more than anything. This was a setback he couldn’t afford and didn’t want to be caught up in. He’d started dreaming of that damn Stand Arrow now. It glowed ethereal in his dreams, always in sight but never close enough to reach. It was driving him crazy. He’d cut off contact with nearly all of his associates and business ventures. Nothing was as important as this Stand Arrow. He needed it. Desperately.

His office had become his permanent dwelling. He rarely left. He probably wouldn’t leave until it came time to retrieve the Stand Arrow. He paced the space like a caged lion. Someone had to answer. Sheila most definitely. They were Stand users; they couldn’t just die. 

Zero caught sight of his reflection in one of the screens. It startled him. It had been a while since he—anyone—had seen him without his mask.

His cheeks were shallow. His grey eyes, once flinty, were now dull and misty. He ran a hand through his hair, disgusted at how greasy and lank it was. Was this what he looked like? 

He looked naked. Vulnerable. Sad.

It was awful. He hated it.

Maybe it was time to commence his second plan. All plans required a backup, and hopeful as Passione was, Zero would be a fool to bet everything on one crew. If this failed, if the crew ended up disappearing, Zero would have to go to someone else. It wouldn’t be as easy as Passione had been, practically begging him for a job.

Risotto’s crew was well-known in Zero’s circles. Ruthless. They might have been more of the approach Zero needed, except that something in him had hesitated at the thought. 

Today would be the last day, Zero decided. If neither Passione nor Sheila answered his call, he would assume they were dead and move on to the second plan. There would be no regret or remorse about it.

It would be troublesome dealing with Donatello if that were the case, however. Maybe he could sell the prince something to get him to leave off.

Even as he resolved to do this, Zero couldn’t sit down. He continued to pace around his office. 

Waiting.

Could they really be dead?

A ping went off. Zero rushed towards his desk, scattering the screens and keyboards there to the floor. He nearly forgot to replace his mask and did so quickly, pushing it onto his face.

“Sheila. Are you alright?”

She wasn’t in her pod anymore. She was in a diner of some sort, an egg and toast in front of her and various indistinct people passing by behind her booth. She’d redone her braids and her makeup. She looked more like herself.

“They’re dead, Zero.” 

Something dropped in Zero’s chest. He sat down, gripped the edge of his chair.

“What do you mean by that?”

Sheila leaned back. All traces of emotion had fled from her face. She was cold. Impassive.

“The Captain is dead. The crew had to send them outside to reactivate a switch. They got lost in the storm. The crew is leaving them behind. I listened in on their comms. They were so frazzled they forgot to turn them off.”

The Captain of Passione. Dead.

That was unfortunate. Extremely so. They had been the tether for all of Kiss in Blue Heaven’s resolve altering. Without them, the crew’s resolve would be threadbare. The fact that they were even continuing the job at all was surprising.

“You’re sure of this?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s assumed command of the crew?”

“The engineer. Pannacotta Fugo.”

That was also surprising. Zero would have expected the headstrong gunman. But Fugo? Blue Heaven’s hold on him was the weakest out of everyone.

“Did you find out where they’re headed?”

“A planet near Bend Gate XIV. Minos. Polnareff and the Stand Arrow should be there.”

Minos was an insignificant planet in the middle of nowhere. Strange that Polnareff should choose that planet out of the entire galaxy to make his hideaway. 

“You’ll follow after them,” Zero said. “Make sure Polnareff doesn’t give them any trouble. I’ll inform Prince Donatello and have him intercept the crew. I'd rather make the transaction on an Imperial ship.”

“Prince Donatello, sir?”

“We have an agreement. It will make things easier, considering he’s offered to take Passione off of my hands.”

Sheila nodded curtly. “Understood.”

It was at moments like these that Zero wished his Stand could alter resolves remotely. Once changed, there was nothing Zero could do to adjust that person’s resolve. How that person reacted was entirely up to them. It was irritating. Just one look at Sheila and he could see she was straying from the obedient servant he had set out to make. She was listing off of her axis. She would have to be replaced.

He hoped that once he achieved Requiem, that would change. There was so much untapped potential in his Stand. He knew that he could control the entire galaxy if given the chance.

He had to tread carefully. He couldn’t afford to stumble when the end was so close. He had to be patient. The stars would give him what he was due.

“Will that be all, sir?” Sheila asked.

“Indeed. I’ll check back with you when required.”

Abbacchio couldn’t believe he was still alive. He’d barely gone into the Black Zone—only skimmed across it, in fact, and even that had felt like enough to wrench his soul from his body. He had never been one to worship the stars, but he found himself thanking them now.

When he came to on the transport ship, he discovered that the pilot had woken up before he did. Passione had still managed to escape, but the pilot was keenly suspicious about how that was possible with an Inspector GA onboard. They’d dropped off the other inmates at their prison, and Abbacchio had hitched a ride with a nearby patrol to report to his superior’s office.

He was chewed out. Thoroughly. They might have threatened to fire him, he couldn’t remember. At any rate, they gave him a small one-person ship and told him not to show his face again unless it was with Passione. That suited Abbacchio just fine. Nothing he hadn’t heard before.

He received a call soon after from Prince Donatello himself. It took Abbacchio by surprise. He answered it dressed in nothing but shorts and a tank top.

“Inspector Abbacchio. A pleasure.”

Abbacchio just barely hid a wince. “Your Highness. I apologize for my appearance. I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so.” Through the call, Donatello gave him a once-over. In contrast to Abbacchio, the prince was immaculately dressed, the Imperial crest pinned to his left breast.

“Is there something you need, Your Highness?” GA’s and the Imperial family were on polite terms with one another, but Abbacchio preferred to keep away from them when he could. Truthfully, he didn’t care for anyone in the family.

“How is your pursuit of Passione going? Any luck?”

Abbacchio’s eye twitched. He didn’t see how that was any of the prince’s business. 

“Is there a reason you’re asking that, Your Highness?”

“What if I said I wanted to offer you my assistance? It happens to be in my personal interest to see them apprehended.”

“The Galactic Authorities are an independent force, Your Highness. The Imperial family is not an exception to this.”

Donatello smiled wickedly. “Ah, a stickler for rules, are you? What if I offered to pay you instead? Turn in Passione to me instead of the jails. I’m willing to transfer any amount of money you’d like.”

The words were uncomfortably familiar. They prickled against Abbacchio’s skin.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this call short, Your Highness. The Galactic Authorities don’t make it a habit to accept bribes.” 

Abbacchio caught sight of Donatello’s scowl just as he cut off the call. He could be executed for this, he knew. It hadn’t been a direct order, but refusing anything from an Imperial prince was bound to spell trouble. 

Well. That was something he could deal with. It just so happened that he wasn’t too keen on Passione being captured.

Using Moody Blues was difficult without the actual transport ship. He eventually had to find it again just to watch the playbacks. It was messy. Chaotic. Something must have gone wrong with the escape pods. They weren’t dead, however, which was a relief.

He managed to piece together the path they had taken, or something close to it. He followed it as closely as he could until he got to the edge of the Black Zone.

That gave Abbacchio pause. They were stupid. But not that stupid.

He didn’t know what to do. The playbacks said they had gone through here but that was impossible. Abbacchio didn’t want to die that badly. 

He took his ship and skirted around the edge of the Black Zone, taking several days. It was lucky he had thought to restock before he left or he would’ve starved to death. Moody Blues lost all track of the crew by the time Abbacchio reached the other side of the Black Zone. For the first time in a long time, he truly had no idea where Passione was.

Abbacchio let his ship drift. He called himself an honorary member, but without coordinates, Passione could be anywhere in the galaxy. Abbacchio pondered going back around the Black Zone. Or maybe he should keep going, trying going through the Bend Gate.

He supposed it was possible that the reason Moody Blues couldn’t make a playback was because Passione had never made it out of the Black Zone to begin with. They could have disappeared in that void, like countless ships before them. 

It was a dismal thought. Briefly, Abbacchio wondered what he would do if that was the case. Retire, probably, even if he barely had enough in his credit account for that. He couldn’t imagine continuing on being a GA after something like that. It wouldn’t feel right.

Through the ship’s main window, Abbacchio thought he could make out something, drifting through space. Small. White. Vaguely human-shaped.

His heart jolted. Was someone out there?

He prepared a pod to go out and investigate. He kept telling himself that it couldn’t be a human. Just a piece of rock or debris. He was wasting time. Getting himself worked up over nothing.

He managed to get close enough to reel the object into the pod. Once it had been dispensed inside, Abbacchio approached it warily, wondering if he’d just made a fatal mistake.

It really was a human. Abbacchio couldn’t tell how long they had been floating around in space like that. In all likelihood, this would probably be more accurately referred to as a corpse. 

What was the protocol for a situation like this? Abbacchio couldn’t remember. Figuring out who this person was might be a start. But was it smart to remove their helmet? They could be decomposing.

Keeping his own helmet on, Abbacchio gently twisted on the body’s helmet. When it didn’t give, he twisted harder, practically wrenching it open. It popped open with a hiss, steam escaping from the helmet.

Abbacchio lifted the helmet. He was an Inspector with the Galactic Authorities. He would maintain his composure. He would not react. He would remain professional.

When he saw the face, Abbacchio didn’t know what he felt. He recognized the face of the body. Saw it practically everyday. They weren’t decomposing in the slightest. He took off one of his gloves and went to check their pulse.

It was faint, but it was there.

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[iamfabiloz]

this is a very mentally ill request of me... however.... scourge thinking about quince mayhaps?

YEAAH!! Sorry this took me a bit I reread a million timez to make sure it’s okay I hope u like it scourge :]

The street lights flickered on and off like lazy fireflies, the warm glow lighting up the dull city streets. Stringy telephone pole wires quivered as pigeons clung to them, flapping their gray feathered wings to steady themselves. A few dim white lights burned from the inside of Twoleg structures, little spots of brightness among the gray. 

A cold wind ruffled the back of Scourge’s neck as he looked above at the pink dawn sky. Gloomy, gray clouds were beginning to form on the horizon, and the black tom could taste the humidity hanging in the air. Soon, rain would fall down upon the BloodClan cats and they would drink heartily, happy to have fresh, clean water instead of lapping from dirty puddles. He had instructed Bone and Brick to collect as much water as possible in garbage cans, and other Twoleg containers. His cats would need them in order to last them ‘til the next shower. 

The sound of Twoleg cars speeding and yowling interrupted his stream of thoughts. Scourge wrinkled his muzzle. Those things were quite infuriating. He didn’t mind when they rolled by occasionally on the stony gray road, but when multiple zoomed past they were always incredibly loud. They always would bumble about noisily, the Twolegs inside their bellies looking out through the glass windows with their hairless faces. 

The BloodClan leader stood perched upon the roof top of a tall brick building; it provided the best vantage point for Scourge to survey his territory. It also was a nice place to get away from everyone else, somewhere he could truly be alone with his thoughts. He gazed down at the narrow alley below him. 

Cats were shifting around in one of the dumpsters, picking at saggy black garbage bags for extra pickings. One skinny ginger tom hooked his claws into a bag’s corner and ripped at it fiercely. A stream of half-eaten chicken and rice spilled out at his feet. The tom and the other cats beside him greedily descended upon the food, hissing excitedly. Scourge twitched his ears, approving of his their resourcefulness. 

Suddenly, a tiny mewl sounded from below him. Scourge turned to look at where the source of the sound had come from.

A little black and white kitten was scampering along the sidewalk, crying pitifully out for its mother. The tiny tom didn’t look old enough to be on his own. Scourge tensed, ready to spring down and help the kit, but a gray she-cat suddenly burst from behind a corner and ran over to the lost child. She scooped him up in her jaws and purred reassuringly. The kit’s mother, Scourge thought, feeling something contort inside of his chest. Though he was quite a few feet away from the pair, he could see the cat’s smoky gray fur clearly. An unexpected pang jabbed at his heart.

It reminded him so much of…her. For a split second, an idiotic idea wormed its way into Scourge’s head. Maybe it was her. Maybe she had come looking for him? It could be possible. 

But then the she-cat turned her head and Scourge’s fragile hopes sank. 

The she-cat had a completely different face; her nose bridge was thinner, one of her ears had a pale scar on the inside, and she had a small white spot on her muzzle. 

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t his Mama. 

The she-cat then turned the corner again, disappearing from view with her kitten. Her gray tail whisked around the block and Scourge shut his eyes tight, almost painfully so. Another gust of wind brushed his dark fur.  

He missed his mother. He missed Mama. 

He thought of her warm gray pelt and amber eyes that sparkled lovingly. He thought of her licking his scruffy head soothingly when Socks and Ruby had played too roughly with him. He thought of the soft nest he had shared with her, the Twoleg blankets velvety beneath his paws. He thought about rolling around in the backyard grass with her, the wooden fence looming overhead.

She had been the only cat who had truly cared for him when he was young. The only one who had comforted him when he felt down about his littermates. The only cat he trusted with his life. 

The memories of his kithood were all drenched in misery, all expect for his beloved Mama. She was the bright spot he kept coming back to, no matter how hard he tried to move past her and focus on his vengeful future. Her words kept echoing inside his head. 

Those savages are a scourge on the name of all good cats.

Scourge shook out his fur like he was shaking out a flea. 

Would she be proud of me now? For leading BloodClan? For killing the cats I’ve had to in order to keep the peace? Scourge wondered, heaving a low sigh. Or would she think I’m a brutish savage? Scourge hissed quietly, scraping his reinforced claws on the stone beneath him. I mustn’t think like that. She isn’t here to see how my life has turned out. Her opinion on what I’ve become doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t. 

But despite Scourge repeating the thought in his mind countless times, he still felt a trickle of doubt. Anger stirred deep within his belly and he stared hard at the  brick wall across from him, trying to distract himself from his immature uncertainty. The cats who had feasted upon the chicken and rice were curled up in the bins, bellies full from a good meal. Scourge tried to force himself to feel an inkling of satisfaction, but nothing but emptiness squeezed his his insides. He sighed unpleasantly and finally let his prying thoughts win, but only for a moment.

Despite being a full grown tom and leader of a an alley full of strong, scrappy stray cats, whom he had worked so hard to build up, a small part of him, bigger than he’d like to admit, longed to be a kit again. To be Quince’s little son again. To be Tiny. He thought of the possible timeline where he wouldn’t have been thrown in the river by the Twolegs if he stayed. He would have grown up with Mama all to himself, with no Socks or Ruby to bully and berate him. No littermates meant that Quince would never like them more than him, she would love him, only. 

Being a kittypet would mean never going hungry, never feeling the chill of winter against his fur, never having to worry about all the things he did now as an outdoor feline. He thought about curling up in a fluffy kittypet nest, Mama grooming his pelt like he was a kitten again and telling him that it was all going to be okay. 

A guttural growl rumbled deep inside his throat, but he kept on imagining fake scenarios after fake scenario in his mind. 

Play fighting in the garden. Looking out the window of the Twoleg den at the world outside. Eating bowls of kitty kibble and drinking creamy milk. Basking in the sunlight beaming from the open window, Quince chortling as the exposure turned his black fur a shade ginger. 

Mama and him napping near the fireplace, their pelts warmed by the flickering orange flames. 

He would’ve lived a soft life, a happy life with his dear mother. 

Would it be worth it? Scourge mused, flicking his tail uneasily. The kitten that had once been Tiny, mewed a resounding yes. But adult Scourge frowned deeply and shook his head. 

No, he thought. He could never go back to that life. It wasn’t possible, it could never be. I don’t want it now anyways, Scourge thought, trying to reassure himself. I wouldn’t be the cat I am now if I had stayed. I wouldn’t be me. Without all the hurt and hardship I’ve endured…I would still be Tiny. 

He wasn’t that meek little kitten anymore. He was Scourge, feared leader of BloodClan and son to no one. All he had was himself and his cats now. Bone and Brick were his loyal lieutenants and he had a place here with them. He couldn’t just throw it all away to live a day dream. He still had plans to complete, orders to give out. He had a duty to himself and to all his cats in the alley. 

Quince had been part of his past life, the one that didn’t exist anymore. Though a minuscule part of him would always want to be a kittypet again and live a comfortable life with his Mama, he knew it was a foolish fantasy, one that would never be fulfilled. There was no use dwelling on it now, it would only slow him down. Though he reassured himself of that fact, his heart twisted with misplaced emotion, and he struggled to push it down again. 

The Twoleg cars along the street honked and beeped in booming unison, drowning out any further thoughts on the matter, and for once, Scourge was grateful for it. 

[lady-z-writes]

Plaything

Heisenberg x fem!reader fic below the cut:

Summary: Reader works for BSAA and is scoping out the village until you get captured by none other than Heisenberg who doesn’t take well to trespassers. Once he learns of your hatred for your job, he wants the information you have and he doesn’t have to try hard to get it. You find yourself drinking, fireside, with him and can’t help but let him touch you. Angie said he’d needed a plaything and, well, you’re it.

TW: smut

Tears prickle in your eyes as you continue climbing the snow-covered hill. Your black boots crunching on the snow and the whistling of wind have been the only sounds in your ears for the last hour or so. Your teammates stumble behind you – silent – as you’re taught to be. You aren’t exactly sure what lies beyond these woods, but the feeling in your gut after talking to those villagers made you nauseous.

There’s a bridge just ahead and you glance over your shoulder at the two teammates before stepping foot on the brick. Your long black cloak whips around your knees as the wind picks up over the clearing. This armor was not made for winter weather.

It’s almost too late to pull out your gun when the three of you get knocked down by metal pieces whirling by. Your reaction time is good, taking cover just as one of your teammates gets sliced across the jugular. Bullets firing at something just beyond the bridge, you aim and fire as well at something you can only describe as a zombie. It takes the two of you to bring it down and once you do, you scurry to reload your assault rifle.

Now that things seem clear, your teammate stumbles to the body to inspect the damage. Fear still has its grips on you and you find it hard to speak, but you want to shout out to take cover. Did that thing bring those metal pieces? Were they alone?

You don’t have time for another thought before more metal objects shoot toward you both, making tears appear in your cloak. Something gets you across the cheek and you cry out as another object gets lodged in your thigh. Pulling it out, you toss it down and aim your rifle toward the bridge again.

Another one of those things has your teammate against the snow, ripping into him like a starved creature. As you turn back, your gun is torn from your hands by a sudden force. Metal comes flying passed you, hitting you upside the head and knocking you to the ground. You groan at the pain, but try to stand or shift away from your attacker.

A man in a hat and a long coat slowly approaches while wielding a large hammer. The metal seems to circle around him as he tosses away your gun.

“And what do we have here?”

“Please…stop…” you cough out, the cold air stinging your lungs from all your gasping.

This must be one of the Lords the villagers spoke of – Heisenberg, was it? Your team had been heading toward the factory. You didn’t have time to think of much more before he stands above you, inspecting you.

“Wrong place for a walk,” he hums. “Last of your kind?” he looks around at the two others lying dead in the snow. “Three of you? Hardly seems right.”

Tears stream down your face, anger at the BSAA for even making you come on this mission.

“I’ll tell you anything,” you gasp out. “Please. Please…” you’re blubbering and you know it, but the fear is real and burning in your chest. “I didn’t even want to do this.”

A clanging of metal beside you causes you to look back up at him. There’s a monster to his left that growls at you but he shoves it back.

“Is that so?” he squints at you from under his sunglasses. The moment lasts too long. You know he’s about to kill you too. “Alright then.”

A swipe of his hand and a gear kicks up to knock you upside the head and everything goes black.

•••

When you come-to, you’re being carried, slung over his shoulder like you’re weightless. You shift slightly, groaning.

“Quit moving, you’ll reopen your wounds. Don’t want you bleeding all over me.”

You can’t tell if you’re having a nightmare or if this is real but the snowy landscape is no longer hurting your eyes. Instead, you’re being carried through a dark threshold, brick and arches and high windows: a church.

Right when you’re getting used to the sway of things as he walks, you’re tossed down harshly onto cobblestone. Well, that’s a bruise. But you’re alive. For now.

There are a million questions on your lips but they all halt when you see the scene before you: a small doll-like creature prances in front of you, hopping over a few more of your dead teammates. The doll scurries over to a tall black figure with her face covered, passing by an oversized woman with a large hat and a sleek black cigarette holder in hand. The man from before flops down in a pew and leans back, ignoring the groaning from behind him as a hunchback monstrous creature lurks in the shadows. Standing before the windows is an almost angelic figure with a dark cloak and a headdress, looking poised and bored.

You cower away from the death around you, biting your tongue as your headache pounds. Ryan and Erin, two colleagues that went toward the flooded fishing village, are oozing blood and a pus-like green goo. You want to throw up, but you scoot backwards as far as possible, trying to keep your back to the wall.

More metal pieces come flying around you; scoot you back toward the group, shove you from behind until you’re standing on shaking, bleeding legs.

“This is all that’s left?” the voice comes from the angelic figure and you cautiously look beside you to note that there are, in fact, four survivors – mostly from the group who went to the castle.

“Yes, Mother. May I suggest you give them all to me? Our last batch of survivors went to Moreau and my daughters are quite…eager…for visitors.”

These must be the ones the villagers spoke of.

“Your appetite amazes me, oh supersized one,” the one with the hammer speaks up; Lord Heisenberg, you’re still assuming. “By all means, take the measly men. But this one comes with me.” He points at you. “I found her just outside of my factory. And I don’t take well to uninvited guests.”

“He wants a plaything,” the doll chants in a singsong voice.

“Shut the fuck up, Angie,” he snaps, losing his cool. “Look, enjoy your mandick; play chase around the castle – whatever. She was on my property.”

Your stomach flips at the look he shoots you. There’s a sinister smile but you find comfort in the fact that he didn’t kill you before. Maybe…-

“Done. Take your prizes and go,” the angelic one waves off.

When the tall one stands, your stomach drops as you look up at her. Long blades grow from her nails and she shoves them through the wrists of your colleagues, like skewers. As she passes, she bends toward you, cuts the top of your hand. You’re in shock when she presses her mouth to your wound, lapping up the blood.

“Move it along, you big-hatted, mouth-breathing bitch.”

“Heisenberg, you petulant child!” her claws come to swipe down at who is now confirmed as Heisenberg, but he raises his hammer above him to block.

“Be gone!” the angelic one shouts at them.

Heisenberg grabs your wrist and hauls you forward, onto a giant plate of metal. His powers link metal around your wrists like handcuffs before he knocks you unconscious again.

•••

Your body is throbbing by the time you wake. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you glance around in the dim lighting. A bed is shoved in one corner, but the room is pretty bare. One wall is a large row of tool benches with metal scraps and tools strewn about. Heisenberg sits on a rolling stool, tinkering with something.

You exhale shakily, sitting up and noting the cuffs still in place – your fingers going numb.

“Ah, finally came-to, hm?” he spins to face you. “I was about to douse you with water.” He stands, towers over you, pulls you to your feet by the handcuffs. “Come, let’s talk.” He motions to the chair. You sit, shaky. “Heisenberg,” he tips his hat. “And you are…?”

“Y/n.”

“What are you, y/n?”

“I-I work for BSAA,” you glance over at the files on his desk, wondering how much he knows. He doesn’t stop you so you assume he’s at least privy to that. “My team was on a mission here to get information on this village…and, well, you.”

“Flattered,” he hums. “I’ll cut to the chase: there’s a reason you’re still alive. You have information. You could be useful…what did you mean when you said you didn’t want to do this?”

You gulp as he circles you. “I…was on a mission before and stumbled across some information that they want to keep quiet. I tried to quit, but they won’t let me leave.” You don’t know why you’re telling him all this. You wonder if maybe it’ll help you stay alive. Maybe he’s telling the truth.

“You said you’d tell me. Well, kitten, spill…” the powerful way he’s standing over you is intimidating but also slightly attractive and you’re kicking yourself for thinking that of your captor.

“BSAA is using bioweapons and plan to investigate the mold in this location to further advance the bioweapons program.”

He pauses. “That’s quite the mouthful.”

You laugh, despite the situation. “It’s quite the burden.” He tilts his head slightly.

“Do you know of Mother Miranda?”

You shake your head. “Just what the villagers told me. They seem…devout.” You search for the right word.

Heisenberg rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ mindless idiots is what they are…”

After a pause, you finally find the guts to say, “I gave you information…will you uncuff me?” you add a, “please” for good measure.

“You’re not thinking of attacking me, are you?”

“And risk a gear to the throat? No, thanks.”

This elicits a laugh from him. He snaps the cuffs right off.

“I like you.”

Rubbing your wrists, you glance up at him while he glares down at you.

“Back there, at the church…thank you for taking me back here. Sounds like I would have been a meal if I would have gone with my colleagues.”

He huffs. “She’d eat you up.” The comment is dripping with innuendo and the cheeky smirk he shoots you makes your stomach flip. There’s something alluring about this guy. Maybe you hit your head too many times today. “But you’re welcome.” The moment hangs in the air and he’s clearly uncomfortable with it so he saunters off out of the room. “You drink?” he calls.

“Poison, no. Alcohol? I could.” He clearly likes the quips because another laugh comes from him.

“All I got’s whiskey,” he returns with a chipped-up coffee mug and a liquor bottle. You hold the mug as he pours and you can’t help but shake – from fear or cold…

He notices. “Got you all cut up,” he finally acknowledges the tattered clothing, the dried blood on your wounds. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

Your mind goes tons of places, but never did you imagine him leading you through dark rooms to reach an outdoor balcony where an almost makeshift firepit sits. You’re guided to a bench and he hands you the liquor bottle so he can get the fire started.

The stars out here are stunning; it’s unlike anything you’ve seen. The cool breeze chills you through, making you hold your torn cloak tighter. When the fire lights and the whoosh of warmth meets your face, you almost moan.

Out here, in the silence, under the stars – you could sleep…

“She took me,” Heisenberg startles you from your mental break. You hand over the whiskey as he approaches. “Mother Miranda isn’t really my mother.” He takes off his sunglasses, rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

You sit quietly and listen to his tale of woe; moved by how troubling it is. By the time you’re halfway through your coffee mug of whiskey, he’s pouring you some more.

“Do you remember your family? Your real family?”

“I do…I do have memories,” he nods. “Everything else was destroyed – except this factory.”

“Did Miranda have something to do with that?”

He blinks at you, keeps drinking from the bottle. You know your answer.

You’re getting the tingling feeling in your fingers and the heat from the fire has made you remove your cloak; leaving you in just your fitted top and ripped pants. Heisenberg’s eyes trail over your skin, his tongue glides across his lower lip momentarily.

“Why did you really bring me here?” you find yourself asking, leaning closer to him.

“If you’re cold, I can take you inside…” he ignores you, but you keep up your intense stare.

“Were they right? Did you want a plaything?” maybe it’s the drink but you feel emboldened to overstep.

His mouth opens then shuts and then he’s grinding his teeth.

“You have no idea…” the growl that leaves his throat sends chills through you.

He practically spills the whiskey with how quickly he lunges at you, mouth connecting with yours in a heated kiss. When you’d first met, you’d assumed his advances would kill you. Now, you’re thinking something else completely.

Your hands grip at his jacket, pull him closer until he’s seated beside you and then you’re in his lap. He tastes like whiskey and smoke. He’s tense beneath you, almost holding his breath.

His hands rip at your clothes and before you know it, you’re topless in his lap. His eyes hungrily take you in before you feel his facial hair against your soft skin as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. His fingers massage the other nipple and you feel teeth gently on you.

He’s hard already and you shamelessly grind against him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure you’re feeling as well. The air feels colder when his mouth pops off you.

“I needed a distraction,” you hum as his lips trail to your neck.

“Pants off. Now,” he mutters.

“You just like to bend ‘em right over, huh?” you laugh. “Okay, Jesus…” but his hands are already fumbling with your snap and zip until he gets frustrated and just rips them off. The need he has is alluring.

He picks you up, turns, slams you down, and gets on his knees before you. You’re stripped completely naked for him, clothes discarded and forgotten as he hums at the sight of you on this cold night. The fire and the feeling of his hands on you keeps you warm enough.

“Pretty,” he moans. “So fuckin’ pretty…”

In the flickering firelight, you catch the tent of his pants. His hands spread your legs then he shifts your knees over his shoulders as he leans between your thighs. Open-mouthed kisses leave you moaning, covering your mouth.

“No,” he mutters. “Let me hear you.”

It’s only when you’ve proven that you will make noise that he lets his mouth trail to your pussy. A flat tongue glides over your folds and you moan loudly, head thrown back as he flicks your clit with a pointed tongue. He’s lapping at you and eating you out like a man starved.

“Ungh…Heisenberg,” you begin to whisper.

“-Karl,” he corrects before he inserts a finger into your dripping pussy.

You’re practically screaming his name when he finds your g-spot that quickly. The pace he’s finger-fucking you at mixed with the potentially public location and the talented tongue, you’re on the edge of something spectacular.

“M’close,” you whisper out, feet digging into his back.

Karl moans. “Come for me, y/n. And then I want you to come on my cock.”

Those words send you barreling toward your orgasm. Your fingers grip his hair as you grind toward his face.

“Ah, fuck…” you cry out.

“Good girl,” he coos, suckling a mark on your inner thigh. You’re ushering him up, yanking at his coat, pulling him into you. Your lips meet as you fumble with his belt and his pants. He helps you, both of your breathing erratic. “So eager,” he chuckles between kisses.

“Want to feel you,” you hum. “Please, Karl?”

“Mmmm, I like you begging.” His pants fall and he lays you down on the bench. “Be a good girl and take my cock.”

He trails the tip along your wetness, teasing you, before he sheaths himself inside. Your back arches off the bench and you let out a whine from the way he’s stretching you.

“Fuck, so big…” you moan, reaching to pull him down.

He shifts your left leg over his shoulder and pounds into you the best he can on this bench. It’s harsh and the bench is digging into your back in an uncomfortable way, but you’re enjoying this.

You’re meeting him thrust-for-thrust, hands tracing over his torso.

“Get undressed.”

He grunts, “Too cold.” You smack him on the arm and the way he glares at you… “You little brat,” he growls. “Do you want to get off again or should I stop holding back?” You shake your head. “Then get off.”

You nod against his chest as he shifts a hand to play with your clit. The pressure and new angle he’s hitting you at, you can’t help but cuss and grip at him. The feel of him bottoming out, of how surprising this pleasure was…you hadn’t expected this when you met him on that bridge. You’re rutting against him, pulling him down harsher until he pounds into you with such intensity.

There’s an echo of a scream that reverberates around you – it’s yours. The fire crackling is your only response until Karl chuckles against your neck.

You can feel your muscles tensing around his thick cock; an orgasm nearing once more. You’re kissing his neck and praising him; caught up in this moment under the stars. The consistent pressure against your g-spot; one more thrust and you’re a goner – moaning against his chest and kissing and biting – gone mad with the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck…” he’s sloppy suddenly, bottoming out and hitting the same spot repeatedly until you feel him rutting harsher, spilling inside of you.

Your gasping sounds louder than the roaring fire and the two of you lay there uncomfortably; Karl not resting his whole weight on you, his forehead pressed against your chest as he huffs out.

The chill in the air stings against your completely naked body, worse now with the sweat.

“That was…unexpected,” you laugh.

“Maybe for you,” he shrugs.

You shiver as he gets off you. He removes his jacket to give it to you and you eagerly shove your arms in it, thankful for the warmth from his body heat.

“Can we go inside?” you shiver.

He meets your gaze. “Don’t think I’m finished with you.”

“Oh?” you tease. “I need some rest. This jackass attacked me earlier…”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me regret stopping that oversized bitch from taking you.”

“You said you needed a plaything…” you hum. “How long did you plan to keep me?”

Karl groans. “Get inside so you can ride my cock and then I’ll make my decision.”

You smirk at him, quite enjoying this newfound thing.

“Bring the whiskey.”

[suna-reversed]

HQ boys as Taylor Swift songs-folklore

characters- Oikawa (exile), Atsumu (my tears ricochet), Meian (illicit affairs)

tags/warnings- ANGST, breakup, heartbreak, cheating, mentions of alcohol, manipulative behaviour, fluff in Meian’s if you squint

suggestions for pt2 would be appreciated (currently thinking of cardigan with Bokuto and hoax with Tsukishima)

Oikawa

“I can see you standin', honey

With his arms around your body

Laughin' but the joke's not funny at all”

He had told himself over and over again to not look; in the flight, in the ride to the hotel, even as he passed the entrance gates of the exquisite banquet hall where the reunion was being held. All he had to do was keep his eyes away. 

But you were here, and he had never been good at withstanding the cosmic pull you always held. Even if you were in the arms of another, laughing like you always used to, with him. 

I think I've seen this film before

And I didn't like the ending

“What changed, Tooru?” Your eyes were red and puffy, you had exhausted all your tears while he simply stood in the corner and watched. 

“This isn’t going to work out y/n. We’re both miles away, with different lives, in different time zones, around different people; we can’t have a relationship built on nothi-” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose,  “...I’m saving both of us from the pain that would come with splitting a few years down the line.” 

“Do you still love me?”

Oikawa was familiar with the grief that came with loss; the grief of giving something every single bit of your soul, only to come out empty-handed and wounded. 

“Go back home, y/n.”

You're not my homeland anymore

So what am I defendin' now?

You were my town

Now I'm in exile seein' you out

Perhaps he had damned himself to ruination. Given up without a fight. But that didn’t matter now. 

You look ethereal, with stars in your eyes and glee in your smile. It doesn’t matter if he’s not the one behind it. You would have been a shell of who you are right now if you had stayed with him anyways. 

He turns around, heading for exit.

Just one last time. He promises himself. His lips curve upwards into a bittersweet smile as he turns around to get his last look. Instead, he finds himself staring into the expanse of an entire galaxy. A cosmic explosion coming his way as the floor shifts from beneath him. 

No, you definitely don’t sound the same.

How long has it been since he heard that voice?

“Not even gonna say goodbye before you leave Oikawa?”

What happened to your precious “Tooru”?

Atsumu

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

The clock reads 01:27 am. You’ve been sitting on the couch for the past 3 hours, the untouched dinner on the table gone cold long ago. You hear the sound of a door slamming shut, hushed footsteps making their way towards the center of the apartment, coming to a halt at the sight of you.

“Why are you still awake?” 

“You promised we’d have dinner together tonight.”

“Listen, it got late at practice, you could’ve just eaten without me.”

“You could’ve at least dropped a text.” You murmur, trying to keep your voice from breaking. This wasn’t the first time he had stood you up.

“It’s not that big of a deal y/n. You realise how important the upcoming match is to me, don’t you?” He sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, “Let’s just go to bed okay, I’m tired.” 

“Okay.” You mutter, loosening your grip on the 2 year anniversary gift hidden below the couch cushion. A platinum ring with yours and Atsumu’s initials carved on the inside.  

You wear the same jewels that I gave you

As you bury me

Atsumu’s vision is blurry, shirt drenched in sweat, his head pounding as he’s pushed against the wall. He doesn’t know whether it’s from the screaming match he just had with you, or from the two bottles he chugged at a shady bar right after he walked out. 

All that matters right now is the feeling of the hands of the girl that’s kissing his jaw. The same spot where you had pressed a chaste kiss not too long ago as you told him that you were going to leave- 

No, he’s not going to think about it. All that matters is the touch of skin against skin, filling in the void you caused as he kneads the supple flesh of her thigh with his hand. The same hand that bore a platinum ring, the letters engraved inside of it now fatuous and futile. 

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears

No, no, no. 

Why are you here?

Why are you back?

“I had hoped we could talk-” You take a deep breath, feet stuck in place as you lay your eyes upon the marks littering his jaw, his neck, going much farther down-

A sob comes out from deep inside your chest. 

No, no, no. 

He’s looking at you, your crestfallen face, tears falling off of it like british showers. 

He’s acting before he can think, falling to his knees, grabbing onto your waist as you try to walk out. 

“No! Angel, please just let me explain. I thought you were never coming back- I would've never-”

“Never what Atsumu?!” Your voice is louder than you expected it to be. 

“Never what? A single fight is all it takes for you to discard everything we ever had? For you to step over everything I put into a relationship that has barely even existed for so long!” 

He’s never heard you shout before. But it's okay, it’s okay if you shout at him, if you break a few things, hell you can wreck his whole apartment if it means that you’re staying for even just a moment longer. 

But you’re not. You’re pushing him away, movements stern, as you try to make your way to the door. All he can do is cling onto you, crying your name over and over again as he racks his brain for a way to make you stay. 

Why was it always you who knew what to say when it came to fixing things?

Meian 

Make sure nobody sees you leave

Hood over your head

Keep your eyes down

Tell your friends you're out for a run

You'll be flushed when you return

You knew there were aspects of his life he had no control over. After all, he was watched by thousands of eyes everyday; the star player, the golden boy; the captain of MSBY. So how does it matter if you had to go a mile extra to hide what you had?

You loved who he was as a person and how he made you feel. Good-morning and goodnight texts, warm cuddles after matches, dancing in the kitchen to songs you don’t know the name of, late night drives to get takeout or go stargazing, laughing till you were on the floor crying. You loved him so much.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings

And stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie, and they lie, and they lie

A billion little times

“Volleyball player Meian Shugo spotted with a blonde beauty at the MSBY vs Adlers afterparty. Could she be his rumoured girlfriend that we’ve been kept in the dark about all along? Read more for exclusive deta-”

You can’t shed a single tear staring at the cover of the magazine. Not because your heart hasn't just been ripped out of your chest, but because you’re in public, standing in line at the grocery store picking up snacks for you and...Meian. 

Why did you not see this coming? What hurt more was that you knew the girl. Meian had introduced you to her as a friend, and her as his social media manager. So this was clearly a misunderstanding right? It had to be. Despite telling yourself that over and over again, you still couldn’t get the picture of his arm wrapped around her waist and the smile etched onto his face out of your mind as you drove home, tears blurring your vision.

Don't call me kid

Don't call me baby

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

“Baby please listen to me-”

You’re sitting on the edge of the couch. You don’t know how long ago you stopped screaming, how long ago the anger dissipated and the rage turned into silent sobs, leaving behind a gaping hollow feeling in your chest. 

You feel him shift closer to you but you don’t at him, still sniffing, your head buried in your arms. 

“She was at the party because she’s our manager, you know Jessi-”

“Don’t say her name.” you hiss out. 

“I wish I never met you, I wish I never got into this stupid arrangement. I wish-” You’re rambling now, sobs escaping between every few words as you try to comprehend the situation, “I hate this. I hate you.” 

Heavy silence hangs in the room. 

And you know damn well

For you I would ruin myself

A million little times

You find arms being wrapped around you and your head being pulled into a warm chest. You try to fight at first, but you’re tired; your throat hurts, your eyes burn and everything feels so cold, so you let yourself guiltily fall into his comfort, pathetically sobbing into his neck.

He patiently waits for your sobs to quiet down, one hand rubbing gentle circles onto your back while the other cradles the back of your head.

“She was at the party with the whole team and the publicist used it as a way to create gossip. That’s all there is to it. I had not given my consent for them to go ahead with this, but they refused to make our relationship public. Apparently, they didn’t think that the age gap between us would reflect well on my reputation.” 

Meian’s heart breaks at the sound that leaves you as he says that, your hand gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as you start sniffing once more. 

“I don’t care about what they say princess, you know that.” He kisses the top of your head, pulling you even closer to himself as if he could absorb the pain from you. 

“I’m so sorry, give me another chance please. I didn’t tell you because I knew it’d hurt you. I promise I’ll make it up to you, please?” 

You look up at him. His eyes are filled with tender love and pure adoration, it makes your heart melt. You nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Of course you would, he's your precious Meian, you’d always forgive him. Why did you ever think he’d do anything to hurt you?

Meian smiles into your hair, ignoring the sound of the notification popping up on the phone kept on the table, 

Jessica: hey, we're still on for tonight right ? ;)

[weelittleweasley]

Amnesia (p1) | Draco x Reader

Prompt: The Battle of Hogwarts was one that was hard on everyone mentally and physically. During the war, you took a brutal fall, hitting your head, which caused you to lose your memory, amnesia if you will. You forget a solid chunk of your life, specifically your last few years at Hogwarts and the relationships you made with certain people, including your romantic relationship with Draco Malfoy. What happens in Part One of this multipart series?

Warnings: language, violence, blood, memory loss, death, mentions of PTSD, anxiety

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: This story is not about romanticizing mental health issues. These are serious conditions and this story is not meant to romanticize or fantasize these topics. It’s used as a vessel to convey a different story. That being said, please take care of yourself and sending everyone lots of love. Enjoy part one :)

Flashbacks told in italics! 

War, chaos, violence, and then silence. Peace. The rubble had fallen, the chains had been broken, and the dust had settled. But things weren’t over. No, quite the opposite. This was just the beginning of it all.

Hogwarts, as you knew it, was falling to the ground. Everywhere you looked around you saw stones falling, students running, flashes of light and fire, the echoes of screams, yet the only thing on your mind was finding him. Finding the blonde boy who you loved so much your bones shook and you heart ached. You ran through the halls, dodging falling stones and avoiding spells, curses, and hexes from wands. Your breath was uneven as you ran down the stairs, screaming at the top of your lungs, your throat burning, “Draco!” 

As you ran down the hall, your body collided with that of your closest friend. “(Y/N), you have to run, get out of here, Draco is gone, there’s no use searching for him,” Ron grabs your face in his hands, desperately trying to shake some sense into you. He searched your eyes for any sense of hope; he needed it now more than ever. His face was covered in dried blood and fresh blood, his hands covered in dirt and his eyes full of panic. He needed you to survive this war, if it was the last thing he could do. “Listen to me,” he shakes you as you let a sob escape your lips. “Draco is gone. Okay? He left.”

You shake your head ferociously. “He wouldn’t do that, he’s here. He’s waiting for me. He told me he would wait for me and he’d see me at the end of this,” you yell at Ron, your ribs aching and knees weak. You’d recall when Draco furiously kissed your lips hours before this all dissolved into madness, telling you to stay where you were and he’d come back for you. Draco promised that you both would run away from this and go somewhere you couldn’t be found. Away from his father, away from the Dark Lord, away from magic, away from it all. He wanted to escape just as badly, if not more than you. “I need to find him,” you pushed Ron off with all the might you could muster in your frail body. “Draco!” you scream again, your voice cracking, too weak to echo anymore.

Ron grabs you by the waist now, pulling you away as you kick and scream in his grip, demanding he let you go. “I’m not letting you get killed!” Ron yelled. “I already lost Fred and I’m not losing you too!” he screams, his voice cracking with anger and fear. “Hermione, help!” Ron calls to Hermione who grabs your fists that pound on Ron’s chest.

“Let me go!” you sob, breaking down under the grip of your two close friends, completely losing yourself to your emotions. “I need to find Draco,” you manage to speak in between sobs, choking on your own tears and cries. “He could be dead for all I know! Please let me find him,” you grab onto the collar of Ron’s shirt, begging him, staring into his eyes as tears pour out of yours. “I need to find him. He could be out there, looking for me, calling for me. I need him, Ron, let me go, let me go find him!”

Hermione wraps you in her arms, trying to get you to stop crying as they pull you behind a wall. She whispers in your ear that you needed to protect yourself. You couldn’t worry about Draco anymore. He was a lost cause. But how could you forget about him? This was the man you loved so violently that you would die before you let anything bad happen to him. He was your one and only and you knew that the day he kissed you for the first time. “You need to stay here. Right here. You understand me? This is a matter of your life and death, do you understand?” Hermione scolds you. “Under no circumstances do you run for anyone. You run for your life if someone tries to kill you. You fight back. But under no circumstances do you do anything else, do you understand me?” she yells at you, needing you to understand that you needed to survive this.

With a shaky breath, you nod. Hermione looks at Ron before Hermione runs back to the chaos, flicking her wand, sending beams at Death Eaters, protecting the students. Ron looks at you, tears still in his eyes as you hold back your sobs. Ron engulfs you in a large hug before pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. “I need you to live. Please,” he begs you, clinging onto every last bit of hope he has. “I’ll find you at the end of this and we’ll be okay.” You shake your head, giving him a tight hug again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you tell him before he joins Hermione, running off protecting her and fellow students.

So there you stood behind the concrete wall, looking around as others fought and got struck. People were getting killed all around you and you were being suffocated by the sight. Why were you just standing here not fighting back? Deliberately disobeying Ron and Hermione’s orders, you run from the wall, flicking your wand swiftly, pushing back Death Eaters, defending yourself and other students. You stood proudly beside your fellow classmates, slashing your wands, casting spells and fighting the good fight. 

As you fight alongside your classmates, you turn your head, keeping a 360 on the area. But that’s when you see him. His blonde hair covered in dirt, his concerned face looking behind him as his mother and father guide him away from the scene, across the bridge. From a distance, you see him look in your direction as your heart sinks. He was leaving without you. 

“Draco,” you whisper, forgetting about everything in the world and focusing on him. “Draco!” you scream with every last fiber in your body. You launch yourself into a run down the stairs and towards the bridge. You push people out of your way in a beeline for your love, hoping that he’ll stop for you, but he doesn’t. His parents keep an iron grip on him, pulling him along the bridge. Draco turns around, seeing you run as he tries to writhe out of his mother’s grip. His face is full of concern, but he can’t escape. His father puts his body in front of Draco’s as Draco screams out in pain and fury. “Draco!” you yell.

Your feet carry you as fast as possible as you run toward the bridge, trying to get to him as quickly as possible before it was too late. Draco claws at his father, trying to get past him. As you run you feel your breath becoming short and your lungs burn, but you ignore the sensation and push. You need to get to him. He needed to get to you. You needed to save each other. 

But that all came to a screeching halt when you name being yelled out in horror by Draco. “(Y/N), watch out!” someone screams a blood curdling scream as you look up to see a large rock come crashing down. 

And that’s when it went white. Your hearing gave out. You went numb. There was silence. Deafening. Palpable. The silence screamed for a million years and then a million more. 

But then there was a roar. Your ears rung and yelled. Your brain thumped against your skull, your lungs burned like you swallowed ash, and your mouth tasted of metal and dirt. You repeated told yourself to open your eyes, but you couldn’t. You tried again and again, but nothing. All you could sense was ringing in your ears and muffled voices. Who was it? Who was talking? You couldn’t understand anyone or what they were saying. It all sounded like a different language. What happened?

Even though your brain was running at a thousand miles an hour, you crashed. Your senses gave out and the silence was back. Deafening. Palpable. The silence screamed again for another million years.

But this time there was a roar and your eyes shot wide open. You sucked in a large breath like you couldn’t breathe before. Your lungs swelled with oxygen, but hurt when you took deep breaths. It took you a second before you felt the rupture of pain that carried from the back of your head to the front. You sucked in a sharp breath, placing a hand where it hurt the most. 

As you looked down, you noticed the white sheets covering your body and the small hospital bed you lied down in. Thin hospital robe on your body and on your arm stuck out multiple IVs and monitors. You heard your heart rate monitor picks up speed as your anxiety grew with every passing second. What happened to you? Why were you in the hospital? Who brought you here? 

When you try to remember what happened to you, you can’t recall a single thing. You can’t even pinpoint what your last memory was, they all just mesh together. Before you can think about what is going on, the door opens up and a Healer’s assistant walks in. “You’re up,” she smiles. “Hello, (Y/N). How are you feeling?” she has a bright grin and calming eyes. This puts you at ease.

“My head hurts,” you respond.

She gives you a knowing smile. “I’m sure it does. You got severely concussed a few days ago,” she grabs a clipboard from the side table and starts scribbling down notes and checking your vitals.

Your eyes go wide, “A few days ago?” you speak bewildered.

The Healer’s assistant takes your temperature with a muggle thermometer before handing you a glass of water. “Yes, a few days ago,” she confirms. “You were in and out of consciousness a few times before you woke up today. Just to put your mind at ease, you have a few broken ribs, that’s why it may be a little hard to breathe and a sprained wrist. We administered you a healing potion, so you should be fully recovered in a few days, but you should still monitor yourself. Your brain, however, is still bruised.” She places down the clipboard and walks back to the door. “Let me tell the Healer that you’re awake. In the meantime, I think there are some people who want to see you.”

You sit up in bed and patiently wait for your visitors. The door swings open and in floods your mother and father. “Mum, Dad,” you smile as they both have tears in their eyes when they see you. They hurry to your side, crying into your hospital gown, kissing your face, thanking Merlin that you were alright. You hold onto them tight, afraid to let them go, as you let a few happy tears fall from your eyes. 

“We thought you were dead,” your mother looks at you as you wipe her tears away, holding onto her and your dad’s hands. “Thank Merlin they got you to the hospital as fast as they could. Madam Pomfrey had taken good care of you before they brought you here,” she tells you. “I can’t believe you are alright.”

You spent a few hours with your parents, the Healer coming in a few times, speaking about how you had to take it easy and how you are lucky to be alive. Your father and mother, however, were acting a little strange whenever they spoke to the Healer. One would get up and speak to him in hushed tones as the other distracted you with conversation, but you couldn’t help but be curious as to what they were leaving you out of. What was going on?

“Mum?” you ask her as your dad whispers to the Healer. “What are they taking about?” you question. She just brushed it off and says he just wants to know how quickly your recovery would be. You knew she was lying, but rather than implore for answers, you let it be. You were tired. 

A few more hours past when the Healer’s assistant from earlier came back in. “Hi, (Y/N), visitor hours are almost done, but you have a few more people who came in to see you,” she tells you as you furrow your brows. She motions her hand to let the visitors in.

When the visitor’s step in it takes you a second to register who they were. Your brain was trying to put names to their faces. You knew that you knew them. You felt your excitement grow when you saw them. You could tell that you had a deep connection to them because when they saw you, both of them started sobbing tears of joy. The girl with fluffy brown hair covered her mouth to conceal her sobs, but a large smile was on her face. Beside her the ginger boy stood, taller in stature but tears running down his face as he silently cried when he saw you. “You’re alright,” he whispers.

Your parents give you and these visitors some privacy, leaving the room so it’s just you three. You stay silent, but a smile is on your face. What are your names? The boy slowly approaches your bedside, sitting next to you, and gently grabbing your hand. He squeezes it and brings another hand to brush the hair out of your eyes. His touch was loving and delicate, handling you with the utmost care. That’s when it hit.

“Ron fucking Weasley,” you laugh as he joins in, pressing his forehead against yours. Ron laughs and cries against you as you cup his cheek gently. It felt like forever since you saw him. You give his hand a squeeze before pulling away and looking at the girl. “Thought I forgot about you, Granger? Get in here,” you speak as she laughs and joins the small group hug, still making sure not to hurt you. The three of you sit and cry and laugh for what feels like hours. “Where have you all been?” you ask with a smile. 

Hermione laughs, “Well, for starters, you’ve been out for four days since your injury.” She rubs your arm. “We’ve all been really worried about you. Harry, too, but he’s also in recovery right now. You’ll see him as soon as you’re discharged from the hospital.”

You nod, the image of Harry Potter popping up at the mention of his name, significant memories flooding back into your brain of him. You think of year four when you had a crush on him briefly during the Triwizard Tournament and you smile at the memory. You also remember Ron teasing you about it after that crush died out, Harry laughing along with you both. Then a question pops up in your mind. “You guys,” you start. “How did I get injured? The Healer told me it’s mostly a head injury, but I don’t remember it. Did you see it happen?”

Ron and Hermione uncomfortably shift in their seats as Hermione shakes her head to Ron, letting him explain what happened. “During the battle, you were running for Draco when a piece of rubble came crashing down and hit you in the head,” Ron explains gently and slowly, making sure not to disturb any trauma that could be sprung up from the horrific scene. Ron recalls watching it unfold and the wind being knocked out of him as it happened. Ron remembers running to your side, screaming for someone to help pick you up and get you to Madam Pomfrey. Ron shakes the memory away and breathes in deeply. Recalling the day was too emotional for him and it happened to recently for him to relive it. He was careful with his words, stroking your hand as he explained what happened.

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Wait, hold on,” you laugh. “Battle? Is that like a new name for a quidditch match or something? I know that I play quite aggressive during games, but I didn’t think it was going to hospitalize me.” As you attempt to crack a joke, Hermione and Ron’s eyes go wide before they look at each other in fear. It was worse than they had thought. “What?” you asked, the concern raising in your voice. “What are you hiding from me?”

Hermione gulps, “Do you not remember the war?” The scoots closer to your bed, seeing if you were playing a joke on them, but you were deadly serious.

“War?” you repeat. “About what? Is He back?” you question, wondering if the Dark Lord was back. You remember Cedric Diggory’s death like it was yesterday, Harry yelling on the field over his dead body that the Dark Lord had returned. Hermione and Ron stutter, trying to find the words. “What’s going on? Are you guys playing a sick joke on me?” you start to frantically ask. “Did Fred and George put you up to this?” At the mention of Fred’s name, Ron instantly tenses and his breath hitches in his throat. Hermione rubs his back, comforting him, holding him close to her as if something happened to Fred. What was going on? Confusion darted through your brain. “I need to go take a breather for a second,” Ron sighs, rising from his chair. “I’m glad you’re awake, (Y/N).” Ron kisses your forehead before walking to the other side of your hospital room, opening the window for some fresh air.

Hermione looks back at you and grabs a hold of both of your hands. “(Y/N), I need you to be completely honest with me like I am being with you right now. What do you remember from Hogwarts? List out the last few things you remember. I need to know,” she pleads, looking deep into your eyes searching.

Your breath picks up as your lungs fill with oxygen, burning from the rapid movement. Your heart rate sky rockets and the back of your head starts to tingle in pain again like it did when you first woke up. Trying to recall your memories, your brain feels like it’s being squeezed. Not much comes up. “I don’t know, ‘Mione,” you tell her. “I remember Cedric’s death, I remember going home for the summer that year, I remember coming back to school and Harry being on edge because no one believed him about the Dark Lord, I remember that twat Umbridge,” you tell her, “but after that the rest is a blur...” Hermione looks at Ron who’s eyes are wide in disbelief. It was much worse than they thought. “What in the bloody hell is this war you’re talking about?” 

Ron looks to Hermione and then looks to you and says, “(Y/N), what year of Hogwarts are we in?” 

You take a second to think. If your memory and your timeline serves you right, you were in year five. “Year five...it’s 1995...why?” you respond. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Bloody hell, this isn’t good,” Ron runs his hands through his hair. Your eyes widen and your heart rate picks up, lungs burning from the rapid inhalations you were breathing in and out. Your head was pounding now. What was happening? Were you wrong? You were sixteen, right? How could you be mistaken? Ron paces back and forth as Hermione remains deadly still. Did your parents not tell you?

The more you think, the more your head hurts. “Wait a second,” you stop the small chatter between Ron and Hermione. “You said I hurt my head because I was running to Draco Malfoy?” you ask as your close friends shake their heads. “Why? I’ve had a total of four conversations with him. Why would I be running after him?”

And that’s when the severity of the situation hit Granger and Weasley. “Go get the Healer,” Hermione commands Ron as he dashes out of the room. “You are being honest with us, right?” she asks as you rapid shake your head. Why would I be lying? “(Y/N), you cannot freak out about this, okay?” she looks at your heart monitor as it beeps quickly, picking up the pace with every passing second. “Okay,” she breathes out. “Listen to me,” she grabs your hands, squeezing them. As she does so, Ron enters back in with the Healer from before. They observe what Hermione does. “(Y/N), you are eighteen. Hogwarts had a battle against Voldemort where many people died and sacrificed themselves for the greater good. That’s where you got injured. You were running to Draco to find him because he-”

“Hold on,” the Healer stops Hermione. “Don’t overflow her with information, she can have an aneurysm from the anxiety and overstimulation.” Hermione rises from her chair as the Healer replaces her seat. “(Y/N), I need you to look at me and breathe. Try to relax yourself.”

At this point you are hyperventilating. “What is going on? Did I miss two years of my life? How long was I asleep for? What war happened? Is this what you and my parents were talking about before? Are you all lying to me?” you start to panic. You look around, needing to get out, out of this room, out of this gown, out of your own head. You felt like you were being tortured from the inside out. “Get these fucking tubes out of me,” you claw your arm as the Healer grabs your hands in attempt to cease your manic movements.

“I need you to listen to me, I will give you the answers you want, (Y/N), okay?” he attempts to reason with you as you try to wiggle out of his grip. “I will tell you what you want to know. Hermione and Ron will be with you the whole time. None of us are lying to you, okay? You just need to trust us,” the Healer speaks slowly as not to rile you up.

Slowly, you let your breathing even out as you lay back in bed, looking at Ron and Hermione. You give them scared looks as Ron grabs your hands, giving them a squeeze, Hermione sitting herself next to you on the bed. “Okay.”

The Healer takes a deep breath in and starts. “You are eighteen, recently graduated from Hogwarts. Hogwarts went through the second wizarding war, which you fought in very bravely. In the midst of it, you saw someone you loved and you ran over to him and got a nasty head injury. The head injury has caused you to have something called temporary amnesia or memory loss. That being said, you can’t remember the past two years of your life,” he tells you.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You don’t know what to say or do. You just sit in shock as your mouth goes dry. You feel like you’re going to vomit, pass out, scream, cry, or all of the above. How could this just happen to you? You just forgot everything that happened over the past two years? So much could have happened and yet you couldn’t recall an ounce of it. You only remembered up to year five and then your brain just shut you out. Your body was working against you. “What?” you ask breathlessly, tears starting to pool in your eyes as the Healer gives you the sorriest look you have ever seen. “I-I-I don’t understand how can my brain just forget?”

“I’m so sorry you are going through this,” the Healer tells you as you look to Ron and Hermione who are starting to cry now. This couldn’t be happening. “But that being said, this amnesia is temporary. It will wear off, but we don’t know when. It can just come back one day and that can be scary, I know. But you have great resources and friends and family and a boyfriend who will help you navigate through this. I will give you a minute to talk to your friends,” the Healer squeezes your arm before leaving the room.

As the door closes behind him, you erupt into sobs. Hermione cradles you in her chest as violent sobs rippled through your body, causing pain to shoot through every fiber in your body, but you didn’t care. Your brain didn’t work like it should and that was a horrifying thought. Why you? Why you of all people? Why was this happening? Who did this to you? How could this happen? Who let it happen? Too many questions danced in your head that you were unable to answer.

Ron pulls your head up to look at him. “We’re going to get through this,” he tells you. “You have me, you have Hermione, you have Harry, you have your parents, you have our friends,” he smiles at you.

“What did the Healer mean when he said I have a boyfriend? Who? Why can’t I remember him?” you speak through sniffles. You had a feeling that your boyfriend was a certain someone, but the thought of him being your romantic interest made your stomach churn.

Your two friends gulp, trying to figure out how to navigate this situation. “You know how I said you ran over to Draco Malfoy when you got hit?” Hermione says. “It’s him. Draco Malfoy is your boyfriend.”

That’s when you think your heart is going to fall out of your stomach. You could only pinpoint a few memories of him throughout what you can remember. You remember Draco being cruel and mean to you and your friends. He called Hermione a mudblood, he teased Ron relentlessly, he always had a bone to pick with Harry, and he made fun of you until you cried multiple times. How could you love someone like him?

Almost as if one cue, the Healer’s assistant came back in and said, “(Y/N), visitor’s hours are over in twenty minutes, but there is someone in the waiting room for you. He insists that he knows you and he’s your boyfriend. The name is Draco Malfoy.”

Everyone and the air freezes. He was here. He came to see you. He didn’t forget about you, but you certainly did with him. Although he was one of the last people you wanted to see right now, there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that told you to let him in. He may have the answers you need. Ron and Hermione insist that she turns him away, but you halt their demands, you saying, “Bring him in. I want to see him.”

She nods and leaves the room as Ron and Hermione just look at you shocked, knowing that this is not going to end well for anyone. “Why did-”

“Because I want to know if he has answers,” you simply state, eyes not moving from the door. If Draco really was your boyfriend, then he should know you better than yourself. Maybe Draco could bring back your memory. Maybe he could help you recover quicker. Then his nightmare would be over. 

The door swings open and there he stood, in all black, hair disheveled, a worried look on his face. Draco looked sick. He was pale and looked thin, almost sickly. When his eyes meet yours, tears fill his eyes and a soft smile appears on his face. “Darling,” he breathes out as he steps closer to you. Ron and Hermione instinctively stand up to protect you as he looks over to them, at first angry, but then he sees the looks on their faces and that’s when his fear worsens. He understands with just a look. The situation was worse than he had thought. He thought you would wake up and you would pick up from where you left off. He had explaining to do, but he was ready to work it through with you. But this situation was one he was not prepared for. Draco looks back at you and says, “You...don’t...”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry, Draco, but I don’t know you like you think I do.”

In that moment, all of Draco’s memories of you flooded his mind. The first time he remembered thinking that he liked you. You were in the room of requirement when Umbridge busted Potter and you had a horrified, yet angry look on your face. As you left the room, you pushed Draco out of the way, looking at him with a disgusted face. 

“You’re despicable, Malfoy,” you spit at him.

Draco let a smirk appear on his face as he bit his lip. “If you want me that badly, (Y/L/N), you should just come to my room tonight,” he spoke, eyes raking you up and down, knowing it would annoy you.

You rolled your eyes before stomping on his foot, him wincing in pain as the boys around him laughed. “If you want to get slapped next time, you should have just asked,” you mimic him. “You’re deplorable.”

Although the memory was not a happy one, Draco was fond of it because he knew you were hard to get and Draco lived for the chase. He knew you could hold your own and not depend on him for everything; you were independent and he found that irresistible. It wasn’t long after that that he had asked you on a date, starting a rollercoaster of relationship. You were there for him in his darkest times, in the hours where he felt himself slipping away, but you were always there to pull him back out and show him the light to which he was forever indebted to you. 

Draco knew that he had no greater love than the love he had found with you and if he had to fight like hell for it, then he would, the rest of the world be damned. 

So there he was, standing in front of you in a hospital bed, the sight already making him sick to his stomach. He looked over to Ron and Hermione as if to ask them to give him some alone time with you. Your two friends looked back at you, to which you nodded, them giving your hands a squeeze before leaving the hospital room.

Now you were alone, staring at the boy in front of you who you were supposed to know everything about and him to you. But instead, your mind drew blank. You couldn’t remember anything about him besides what you had known up to year five. You got no feeling of excitement when you saw him in comparison to the reaction you had when you saw Ron and Hermione. You didn’t feel like you had a connection with him. You just felt numb. Tingling from exhaustion and burning with pain in your head and lungs. So badly you wanted to close your eyes and go to sleep, hoping that this was a sick dream and when you woke up things would be okay. 

“You remember nothing?” he asks, blue eyes like the ocean brimming with tears that threatened to pool over, but disappeared when he took a deep breath in, his attempt to remain strong in front of you. 

“I remember up to year five,” you correct him. “I don’t remember any of our relationship,” you confess.

This makes Draco’s heart plummet into his stomach, but he tries to not show it on his face. He slowly tries to approach your bed and reach for your hand, hoping that his touch would make you remember something, anything. But when he extends his hand out to touch you, you pull away, looking at him way too confused and scared to touch him back. You barely know who he was, why would you want to touch him? As if this whole situation couldn’t get any worse. He had run away from his mother after his father was taken to Azkaban, in hopes to find you and fulfill the dreams that you two had of running away from this place and magic to start a new life together. A clean slate. But his dreams came crashing down from around him. Now Draco had to pick up the pieces and build everything back up exactly as it was. Or else he didn’t know what he’d do. Draco had poured everything into this relationship of yours just for it all to be thrown away due to a nasty head injury. This had to be a sick joke crafted by his father in some way shape or form. But he wished it was that simple.

Draco shakes his head, “Right.” 

You look at the deeply broken boy in front of you and you feel sorry for him. Even though you cannot remember anything about your romantic history, your heart aches for him. This must be difficult to go through. Someone you love not know who you are. What kind of sick torture. “I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I wish I could remember.”

He offers you a sad smile, “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” You just nod your head as the two of you stay in this silence for a moment. “It’ll come back, right? Your memories?”

Nodding gently, you speak, “That’s what the Healer said.”

Draco sits in that moment, knowing that there was hope for you and your relationship. But it was just a matter of if he was willing to fight for it.

To be continued

[imkylotrash]

Regret Like A Riot

Pairing: Sam Harvey x reader

Request: Something like the girls are trying to set them up cause they're really close and like each other but are scared to admit it. Anonymous

A/N It went a little different then your request but I really hope you like it regardless. 

You promise yourself you’ll tell him if he just makes it through the night. If he just stays alive long enough for the Burned One to be killed, you’ll tell him everything. You’ll admit to why you always turn clumsy around him and can hardly formulate a sentence. You’ll admit to blushing even if you only catch sight of his back as he’s walking down the hallway. You’ll admit to everything in the morning if he just stays alive. And you truly do have every intention of telling him but then you see Musa holding his hand and taking away his pain. You see the way she looks at him and your heart cracks just slightly because you know you’ll never be able to compete with her. And frankly, you don’t want to compete with her. If she makes him happy, then you’re happy. That’s why you stay silent when morning arrives. You don’t say anything as you help him to his room or when he asks you to stay a while until he falls asleep. 

“I love you,” you whisper telling yourself that it counts even though he’s far away in his dreams. You spend a moment too long looking at him sleeping before you tiptoe to the door and exit his bedroom.

“You’re still here?” Caught in the act. Slowly you turn around to face Terra. 

“He was scared he might have nightmares so I stayed to make sure he fell asleep,” you explain not meeting her eyes at any point. The last thing you need right now is for Terra to know why you really stayed. As much as you love her, you also know that she’s a blabber mouth and not one to tell secrets too. 

“That was nice of you.” She’s too tired to notice anything it seems. 

“I lit the fireplace in there to keep him warm but someone should probably check on it in a few hours.” Terra stumbles slightly but manages to nod. 

“You must be exhausted. Get some sleep, I’ll make sure he’s alright.” You don’t have to be a mind fairy to feel her gratefulness. She hugs you before heading off to her own room. You’re guessing everyone will be asleep right now so you figure you should get some rest too. Just as you’re about to leave, you hear him scream. You’re by his side immediately clasping his hand in yours. 

“Are you okay? Should I get your dad?” He hugs you tightly trying to regain control of his breathing. It must’ve been a nightmare. 

“It came back,” he whimpers. You don’t have to ask what he means. It’s as fresh in your mind as it is in his. 

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? Just get some rest.” You pull over a chair and take his hand in yours once more. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep but this time you stay. Even though your entire body is screaming for rest, you force yourself to stay awake. You’ll sleep when you feel absolutely sure Sam is okay. But even with that conviction, there comes a point where your body just gives up. It’s night time when you do wake up. Sam is still sleeping but the fire has gone out making the room feel like a freezer. It’s almost second nature to you now when you wave your hand towards the ashes and create a fire. It takes four days before you leave the room. He asked you to stay and you’re not about to say no. On the fourth day, you return to your own room ready to stand under the shower until the warm water runs out but the girls have something else planned. 

“How long have you been dating Sam?” Musa asks. You make a sound that’s somewhere between laughing and choking. 

“I’m not dating Sam. We’re best friends, you know that.” This is not the time for to ask these questions. You’re exhausted and drained. All you want to do is clean up and then sleep for weeks. 

“Best friends care for each other, yeah. But you just spent the last couple of days glued to his side,” Stella chips in 

“He almost died. Terra’s been there too!” It’s a very weak argument considering Terra is his sister. Of course she’s going to be there. By the looks on their faces no one believes you. 

“Fine!” you exclaim ready to own up to your feelings if it means you can get some sleep, “I like Sam. I really really like him. But it’s never going to happen so what’s the point?” 

“What are you talking about? Sam literally never stops talking about you. He is most definitely in love with you,” Terra says. Pure exhaustion threatens to turn you into a weeping mess. 

“I saw the moment he shared with you, Musa. When you took his pain. I don’t want to ruin that for you.” 

“What moment? I helped him because I could. Because he’s my friend and so is Terra. I don’t have any feelings whatsoever for him.” It’s like a weight is lifted from your shoulders when you realise that there might be a chance for you. 

“If you won’t tell him, I will. You guys would be the cutest couple and we need something good,” Bloom smiles. The rest of the girls are quick to nod in agreement. 

“Terra?” you ask because you need to hear her say that it’s okay. You need to know that you’re not burning a bridge with her. You’ve known her and Sam for as long as you can remember. They’ve become your family. 

“Of course it’s okay! I’ve been shipping the two of you since we were ten.” You hug her tightly knowing you’ll never be able to explain to her how much it means that she thinks you’re good enough for Sam. 

“I have to go,” you mumble already heading out the door when Stella stops you. 

“You’re not about to confess your love for that boy looking like that. You’ve waited how many years? It can wait another hour.” And with that she whisks you into the bathroom along with the other girls. Exactly one hour later your hair is done, you have a very natural base of makeup on and Stella has picked out the perfect outfit. 

“Thank you for your help, girls.” You bring them in for a group hug and then you’re off. Down the hall and to the left. Once you’re in front his door, you hesitate. What if Terra has gotten this all wrong? But you promised yourself you’d tell him if you both made it through that night so you knock on the door and anxiously wait for him to open the door. 

“Hey. Miss me already?” he jokes but you’re too nervous to laugh. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks always so aware of your mood. 

“Nothing’s wrong. Or maybe it is. I guess it depends on a lot of things, but inherently there’s nothing wrong at the moment. I just-”

“You’re rambling. Spill it.” He drags you into his room and closes the door. You’ve been alone together in his room a million times before but now you’re painfully aware of how his shirt is hugging his body and how tempting it is to just rip it off him. 

“I like you.” 

“I like you too.” He doesn’t get it and you have no idea how to begin explaining. Your thoughts are coming and going too fast for you to form a plan for what you want to say. 

“Breathe,” he reminds you. Two deep breaths later and you feel slightly calmer. 

“When I say I like you, I don’t mean as a friend. I mean I really, truly care for you.” He stays quiet perhaps in shock. You never should’ve told him. 

“I’m going to go,” you say hoping for a quick exit but he stops you.

“You like me as more than a friend?” You’re not entirely sure why he needs you to why he needs to rub it in your face so you just nod. Again, he goes quiet but he’s blocking the door so there’s no way you can leave unless jumping out the window is an option. It feels like a good idea right about now. 

“Why?” His question brings you back to reality and away from the window. 

“Why? Because you’re you. And you’re pretty amazing.” He opens his mouth and closes it again. He repeats this action three times before something clicks inside of him. You see the change in his face as he leans down towards you. Is this really happening? You don’t have time to think when his lips connect with yours. Time stops, cue fireworks. You both jump when you accidentally start the fireplace. 

“Sorry. Too many positive feelings, I guess.” You blush deciding that your shoes are very interesting. 

“I really care about you too. I have for a long time. But you’re this badass fire fairy, I had no idea how to tell you.” 

“You like me?” He lifts your head and nods. You kiss him again revelling in the feeling of his body pressed against yours. He slowly backs you towards the bed and you make no objections. You’ve waited so long for this moment. 

“This should really go,” you whisper tugging at his shirt. He doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s gone before you can blink and seeing him with no shirt makes you not want to blink at all. 

“Have I ever mentioned you’re really hot?” He chuckles hugging you tightly. His skin is still slightly pink where the Burned One got him. You try to ignore the stabbing feeling in your heart when you think back to that night. You don’t know what you’d done if he hadn’t made it. You’re just about to pull off your shirt when the door burst open and five fairies fall through the opening. 

“Terra?” Sam asks darting over to pick up his shirt from the floor. 

“Oh my God!” Aisha laughs, “I knew we should’ve left them alone.” 

“Well, I wanted to know how it went. He’s my brother,” Terra defends herself trying to maintain at least some dignity. 

“By the looks of it, everything went really well.” Stella smirks looking from Sam to you. Looking at all of them, you feel infinitely grateful to have them in your life. These people have become your family. So even though you’re itching to get Sam alone, you don’t mind it when you all settle down on the floor to talk. The girls want to know every little detail and you try to give them as much as possible while still keeping just a few things private. Sam sneaks his arm around you and kisses the top of your head but other than that he just listens. You regret not telling him sooner. You hate to think how much time was waisted when you could’ve been cuddled up next to him like you are right now. 

“Later,” you whisper to Sam at one point when the other girls are distracted by the gossip. 

“Absolutely.” 

[blanknamed]

trial and error pt. 2 [senku x reader]

NOT ME FORGETTING TO POST CHAPTER TWO LMAOOO SORRY HERE IT IS THO

SHIPPING: SENKU X READER

PREMISE: [Name] had always known Senku was a little bit of an oddball but that’s what made him so interesting to her as children. Now in the Stone World, he’s only even more interesting what with his claims about shooting up to a million years worth of technology back, but some things never change with him; specifically on the concept of love. As a way to get him to think about it as something other than “disgusting feelings” she proposes for him to think of it differently, though it seems to be going in a direction she never expected.

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE

{–*–}

CHAPTER TWO: CONTEMPLATION

How did I get myself into this situation? [Name] asked herself desperately, watching Ruri shuffle around her hut, staring at the dresses given by the village women lined up neatly on the floor. She held up a blue dress [Name]’s way, who only stared at the shortened skirt. Just the look alone was enough for Ruri to understand that she didn’t like it, causing her to giggle at the reaction.

“You don’t seem to be happy about this even though you were the one who gave Senku the idea.” Ruri stated as she kneeled behind her to start braiding [Name]’s unruly hair.

“Just because I gave him the idea doesn’t mean I wanted to be his little test subject.” [Name] groaned. An unreadable look passed Ruri as she watched the younger girl’s growing discomfort. If she was even more redder, she would’ve matched what she had looked like a few hours ago.

“Huh?” [Name] asked as she stared at Senku, who only looked at her pointedly. Quickly, blood rushed on every part of her face as she started stutter. “Wha--I--you did not just say what I thought I heard you say.”

“What part did you not understand?” Senku asked dismissively, talking as if he hadn’t just asked out his childhood friend on a date. “I might as well take you on one to get good feedback. No one else gives any as specifc as you.”

Feedback.

Feedback.

The word kept repeating in [Name]’s head, almost making her dizzy. What did she expect, though? She told him, a scientist, to treat it like an experiment. Test a hypothesis. She was pretty sure he only wanted to take her in particular because (1) he wanted good feedback, like he had said, and (2) if there was even a slight chance he was going to take another girl on a date, Senku was going to force [Name] to come along to examine and analyze. Which was, by common sense, not really going to be a date.

“Oi, you don’t say that to a girl, especially if you just asked her out.” Chrome called out, punching Senku on the shoulder. “Not to mention isn’t that a breach in--what was it? Ethnics? Right?”

“Ethics.” Gen corrected before nodding in confirmation, looking at the two friends. “There’s a lot of things that could go wrong because you’re not following the right rules here, Senku-chan. Wouldn’t it be better to just pair up two different villagers who are single and see how romance can be attainable from there?”

[Name] could see slight movements from her side, where a few of the younger villagers turned a hue of pink as they glanced at one another, probably thinking about the prospect of being one of Senku’s experiements. Seeing that the benefits outweighing the negative prospects (not getting injured in any way possible, no one being able to see them except possibly Senku, and the prospects of a lover), it looked like a few of them were already making the decision to be part of it.

But this was Senku. He wasn’t about to play matchmaker if he himself couldn’t even find a reason to think that love wasn’t some illogical construct to fill up human loneliness. She wasn’t the only who was thinking that, though, as Kohaku spoke up.

“But this is about Senku thinking he can’t have those types of feelings so its gonna have to be him.” She replied blandly. “[Name] was probably chosen because he wants her to be there to watch him for any signs, regardless if its here being taken on a date or not.”

“That and she proposed the idea so she’s going to do it.” Senku piped up, sending [Name] a teasing grin.

[Name], burning even redder, stuttered some more. “You-You’ve got to be kidding me Senku. This must be some type of joke. I only said that to make conversation.”

“It was an interesting conversation and a weird statement that I wanna experiment on. Nothing less expected from you, though, [Name].” Senku replied as he kept slurping at the last of his ramen. “Besides its not like you have anything to do tonight.”

“Yeah, but--wait, tonight? Don’t you have get things in order--start out a claim, set up the experiment?” [Name] rambled, now even more confused. 

Kohaku met Chrome’s eyes with a deadpanned expression. Leave it to [Name] to treating it like an actual experiment and finding the faults. Though, Senku wasn’t usually one to leave out so many variables that could ruin the experiment.

“These are special cicumstances; have you ever participated in your own experiments? Adjustments will be made, yeah, but we might as well start it today and talk about it during the date. Just meet me by the bridge tonight. We’ll go to the field, go on a date, and then you can report to me anything you saw. Sound good? Cool. Now lets get back to work.” Senku said, standing up dusting off his pants, leaving a bewildered [Name] and possibly most of the village in his wake.

If it hadn’t been for a few of the village women, [Name] wouldn’t have been pulled out of her daze and internal panic. She’s had crushes on boys, yeah, but going on a date? Not really. She was too busy with school and helping her mother out at the store. There were a few times where she had almost gone on a one, but something always made her call in for a raincheck and then never proceeding afterwards.

But here she was 3,700 years later, sitting in a priestess’s hut, getting ready to go on a date with the world’s biggest asshole.

Kohaku had been the one to think about bringing the younger girl up to Ruri, explaining what had went down. Surprisingly, the village priestess was the least bit shocked about the events, deciding to (calmly) agree anyways to help relieve some of the immense stress [Name] was feeling. At the mention of Ruri helping created some domino effect with the village women, all offering to help [Name] get ready, much to her dismay.

“Its not like Senku’s gonna make the effort to dress nicely. I swear he wouldn’t have showered if I hadn’t made Chrome and Kinro drag him to the river a few days ago! Not to mention he’s only doing this to prove a point; that’s why he’s rushing it so quickly. So I really don’t think all of you should be treating this as anything special.” [Name] tried to reason as she watched the women pull up rope-like jewelry up to her body.

Kohaku scoffed. “Its not like boys know how to take care of themselves in the first place. I’m pretty sure one of the men in the village has his head screwed on properly or most likely Gen is gonna make him dress up just a little bit. Not to mention if this is an experiment then he’s most likely not trying to botch it to just prove a point.”

“Then why was he being so… So…” [Name] trailed off, not quite putting a word on it.

“Adamant?” Ruby offered as she held up a pretty necklace with a jewel attached to it.

“Excited?” Garnet said next as she pushed her chin up to spread something on her mouth. Lipstick? [Name] inquired. I guess the need for makeup never changes after so many years.

“Not really excited but--hold on, didn’t you three want to go on a date with Senku? I thought you’d be mad or something.” [Name] stated, clearly remembering the usual formula of girl’s behaviors during the modern era. It usually involved in some type of “she said he said” situation, where rumors ensued. At the very least, the three sisters should have been upset with her for Senku’s selection in dates.

Sapphire shrugged as she plucked at [Name]’s baggy dress. “We were for a few hours, but we might as well help since you look like you don’t know the first thing about going on a date.”

“Wha--Hey!” [Name] retorted, offended before backtracking. I mean, it’s not like they’re wrong.

“Maybe he actually likes you.” Kohaku suggested as she sat across from [Name]. Silence filled the room as all the girls stared at them. A moment passed between the two girls as they looked at one another until [Name] bursted out laughing, almost smearing her cheek against the lipstick hovering in front of her.

“Not possible. I’m pretty sure he sees me more of a germ than a person. Not to mention he’s never really found the girls in his own grade--the ones older than me--attractive so what’s the likely chance he sees me that way?” She asked when she stopped. She recalled a rumor swirling around the school about Senku rejecting over 10 girls during Valentine’s Day, all of them varying in popularity and looks. 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, [Name]-san.” Ruri commented as she held another dress up to her, this one looking a little more decent. “You’re easily one of the prettiest girls here.”

“Don’t make me laugh again…” [Name] mumbled to herself, flinching when she felt Sapphire poke at her waist once again. “Oi, why are are you poking me?”

“I’m trying to see what your shape is like so we can let you try on one of the dresses.” Sapphire replied, pouting. “Why do you have to wear such baggy clothes?”

“Practicality.” Was the only response [Name] gave as she tried to keep still when makeup was being put on her.

“That’s a lame excuse. I bet you’re just hiding the fact you have small boobs.”

“My boobs have nothing to do with my clothes. Besides, small boobs or not, it shouldn’t matter what people think about them--!” [Name] yelled out, embarrassed, as a dress was thrown onto her lap.

It was blue, like most of the villager’s clothing, but it seemed more simple and less body-hugging like most of the clothes. It flowed down near the bust, where it had folded nicely around it to adjust to anyone wearing it. The sleeves were puffy and ended where her biceps began, looking kind of like neatly made muffins. Instead of a rope, a thin piece of cloth of the same color was tied to the front, giving a nice, simple finish for the clothing.

If Mom was still alive, she’d probably be looking at how well done this dress was with just a simple loom and needle. [Name] thought as she marveled at the tiny needlework near the waist, creating tiny little flowers near the top. Looking up, she met Ruri’s gentle smile. “That should fit you since one of the village women is identical to your body shape. Now, lets get you dressed; you have to meet up with Senku soon.”

PREVIOUS PART - NEXT PART

[chemmerson]

experiment #46

i wrote this in honor of @annabethwithabook who gave me the idea. i hope this is everything you dreamed it would be.

read on ao3

———

Based on a True Story

“Zelda, are you sure this is going to work?” Link yelled up at her.

Zelda checked the breaks one last time where Link had showed her on the bike.

“Don’t worry Link! I believe I calculated everything correctly…” She trailed off, making sure her feet would be firmly planted on the foot pegs when she was riding. “Plus,” she started again. “I think this will be our best chance of finding out the Master Cycle’s true potential!”

While Zelda excitedly made sure all last preparations were in place, Link, feeling extremely unsure, stood on a wooden raft in the Hylia River.

A wooden raft that was connected by rope to the back of the Master Cycle, which Zelda was currently sitting atop of.

When Zelda first saw the Master Cycle after they had defeated Ganon, she was astounded. She actually took it apart to see how the engine system worked and thought about designing a guardian part mechanism to make the engine run faster, but she claimed that project could wait.

“This experiment is much more important”, she said. “It was number forty-six on my list, but now it’s bumped right up to number one!”

Zelda wanted to see just what the Master Cycle was capable of. What could it be used for? How efficiently can it run? Can we make it even more efficient? She had a million ideas she wanted to test, jotting all of them down in her journal, and this one, she decided, was the best. So, she made Link find one of the old, wooden rafts that floated around the various rivers and lakes of Hyrule, tear off its sail, and connect a rope from the wooden post to the back of the Master Cycle.

Link wanted to say something. He wanted to tell her that this experiment wouldn’t work, because he had tried it before with some of the stable hands one night after a few too many drinks.

But he didn’t have the heart to tell her. She was so excited. Zelda had calculated everything out and if it worked, this concept along with all of the other Divine Beast technology could advance Hyrule into a technological revolution.

So, he just kept his mouth shut. And thanked himself for taking off his shirt and shoes because he was definitely going to end up in the water at some point.

Zelda sat in the Master Cycle a little further ahead of him along the path of the Hylia River, skin glowing in the summer sun while in a tank top in shorts. Her short, glowing hair waving with the breeze made her look like sunshine. Link gulped and looked away, pretending the nervous feeling in his stomach was because he could possibly die from this experiment and not how beautiful Zelda looked.

“Alright, Link! I think we’re ready!” She turned around, smile bright with anticipation. “Are you okay?”

Link gave a thumbs up and an unconvincing smile.

Zelda turned around with a huff. “He should know by now I can see through those constipated smiles of his. Oh well, might as well get this started…” she muttered to herself.

Zelda revved the engine, the loud noise making her jump but fueling her excitement tenfold. She giggled and did a little dance as she could barely contain herself, and then turned around once more to see the signal from Link.

Link could practically see Zelda vibrating with excitement as she looked back at him on the Master Cycle, and he gripped the makeshift handle tied to the wooden post in the middle just a little tighter.

“Ready!” He shouted.

He was not ready.

“Alright!” Zelda squealed. “Here we go—“

The Master Cycle jerked forward as Zelda did not ease into pressing on the gas like Link told her too. The rope pulled taut and the Master Cycle didn’t go anywhere for a moment. The wheels spun around in the dirt, dust flying everywhere.

And then, Link was moving.

Zelda was moving.

Zelda was pulling Link.

It was actually working. Zelda rode along the path next to the river, pulling the raft that Link was standing on. It was slow moving, but it was working nonetheless.

A smile quirked onto Link’s face.

“Wooooooohooooo!!” Zelda cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

It was one cheer too soon.

It happened all too quickly. One moment, Link was gliding across the water on the raft, Zelda safely on the side of the river, and the next moment, Zelda was off the Master Cycle, falling into the river.

Link dove into the river immediately, panic burning in his chest.

He was so, so thankful for the water safety mechanism that the Master Cycle had. He knew that once it hit the water, it would dissipate into the air and Zelda wouldn’t be crushed.

At least he hoped.

Link swam as fast as he could, keeping an eye on Zelda and hoping she wasn’t hurt. He saw her head bob out of the water and her arms flapping to help her stay afloat.

“Zel! Zel, hold on!” Link swam faster, hoping to god she wasn’t drowning.

Zelda’s head popped out of the water once more and stayed up this time. Link grabbed her shoulders to help her steady.

She was having quite a coughing fit before the coughs turned into pure laughter. Link was too busy checking her for injuries and keeping her afloat to notice.

“It actually worked!” She beamed. “I knew it would. I believe what went wrong was the shape of the raft, maybe if we could—“

Zelda paused at Link who was scanning his eyes all over her, brows furrowed with a displaced look of worry she didn’t often see from him.

“Link.”

He ignored her, gliding his hands all over her shoulder and arm. She frowned.

“Link.”

He ignored her again. Zelda huffed in frustration, grabbing his face in her hands.

“Link, you big dummy, listen to me!”

Link froze, big blue eyes snapping to up to her face.

“Are you even listening to me? Link, it worked.”

This time, Link frowned. “Yeah, barely. Zel, you almost died.”

Zelda’s mouth gaped open. “I did not almost die. Link I’m fine—“

“Your arm.”

Zelda looked down at her right arm where Link’s fingers were gently brushing against it, examining where her arm had gotten skinned against the ground when she fell. His deep blue eyes were alert with worry.

Zelda moved her hands down from his face and onto his shoulders. “Link, I’m fine. I can’t even feel it. Don’t you see what this means? If we can perfect this mechanism—“

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Link stared at her, the water reflecting light against his tanned, sun kissed skin. The look of worry didn’t falter, he just waited for her to give her a reassuring answer.

Zelda then realized their proximity. Link held her up with his arms, treading water to keep them both afloat. Zelda was holding on to his shoulders, her chest inches away from his bare one. She could see his face so clearly, the water dripping down from his hair and onto his cheeks. The water made his blue eyes sparkle.

Zelda swallowed.

“I-I’m fine, Link.”

Link’s faced stayed twisted with that worry for a moment before relaxing back to what Zelda was used to. She felt herself relax too, and brought the smile back to her face.

“We need to make several adjustments, but I think this could be the start of something.”

“First,” Link said. “Let’s get out of this water and dry off. Then, what adjustments need to be made exactly?”

Zelda grinned. “We need a different raft. And more people.”

———

“Uh, a-and what do I do again?”

Link watched Yunobo’s hands shake as he sprawled out on the new and improved aerodynamic raft attached to the new and improved Master Cycle—Master Watercraft as Zelda called it. Which wouldn’t have been possible without the help of their friends.

They enlisted the help of Sidon, who demonstrated just what makes Zoras swim so efficiently, and Zelda decided they needed a new raft that was smaller, lighter, and more aerodynamic, mirroring the way Zora’s glided across the water on their stomachs. Then, to fix the problem of the Master Cycle tipping over into the water, Zelda completely deconstructed the Master Cycle and reconstructed it with a more powerful, guardian powered engine along with floating devices to keep it above the water. She added floating devices to the raft too, for extra measure.

They needed people of different body statures to test it out, which was why Yunobo was now shaking like a leaf as he laid stomach down on the raft, holding onto the front for dear life. Link smirked.

He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

“All you have to do is hold on!” Zelda yelled from the side of the river, standing next to Sidon and Riju. Sidon was present as a research partner and consultant, while Riju had come for “the entertainment”.

“You’ll be fine, my dear Yunobo!” Sidon’s encouraging words rang out. “I guarantee it!”

“You definitely won’t die,” Riju yelled.

If Link looked back at Yunobo’s face again, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make the poor guy go through with it.

“This is extremely safe, Yunobo!” Zelda yelled again. “I’ve calculated all of it! And Link will go slow!”

Link smirked again. No promises, he thought to himself.

“Okay, Yunobo, are you ready?” Zelda threw a thumbs to Yunobo.

“I-I-I guess,” Yunobo stammered.

Link caught Zelda’s fiery green eyes. They were eyes that said don’t go too fast and please definitely don’t do anything stupid.

Link just smiled and revved the engine.

“Three, two, one!” Link yelled. And then he floored it.

The rope pulled taut under Yunobo’s weight, but once the engine adjusted, Link was flying across the water, the engine roaring in his ears. It almost drowned out Yunobo’s screams of terror as they made their way down the Hylia river. Link was having a blast.

It was going so well that Link went under every bridge that stretched across the river and all the way around Lake Hylia. He didn’t bother to look back at Yunobo, whose screams were letting him and all of Hyrule know he was still alive.

Once Link made his way around Lake Hylia, he went all the way back down the river to where they had started. He could see Zelda from a distance, jumping up and down with her hands in the air. Link slowed down once he made his way back to the starting point.

“It’s amazing!” Zelda yelled, beaming from ear to ear. “Goddesses it actually worked!”

Link came to a stop in front of them, feeling joyous as well from all the adrenaline and excitement. How could he have ever doubted Zelda’s genius in the first place? This right here, he thought, this has potential.

“Yunobo!” Sidon shouted. “Are you alright?”

Link turned around to find Yunobo still clutching to the raft like it was his life line. His face might have been a little pale, but then he spoke up.

“T-That was actually fun!”

They all laughed, Zelda shouting in victory again. Link watched her face light up with her smile and thanked the goddesses his wish came true.

“Alright,” Riju spoke up. “I’m definitely going next.”

They used the Master Watercraft all night, taking turns riding and driving and racing Sidon well after the sun had finally set.

Experiment #46, check.

[bluebellefox]

It is a Far, Far Better Thing

When he first begins to regain consciousness, he is aware only of the sense of darkness blanketing around him, allowing his body to float along the gentle waves of a softly rolling black sea. It is not oppressive darkness that surrounds him, but rather a soothing one, one that brings none of the weight that being alone in the dark has brought him these past few years. One that reminds him of summer nights under a tree shared by unassuming children ready to take on the world or rainy mornings spent with tea cooling in its chipped mug and dog-eared and creased worn pages. Or the gentle pressure of a wizened hand laying on his shoulder and the echo of a lilting laugh that shone brightly in emerald eyes and always seemed to staunch the deep ache in his very soul that has haunted him since he could remember. It is peaceful and for the first time in a long time, Severus feels calm.

He wakes slowly, for the first time in months, years, decades… There is no rushed sense of duty that usually accompanies him and spurs him to action the second he is aware of the waking world. There is only the feeling of a warm spring breeze lofting over his face, pulling playfully at his hair as it dances across, well wherever he is. Normally finding himself in an unknown place after being so deeply wrapped in the arms of Morpheus would alarm him, even send him into a whirlwind of abject panic but strangely enough, the familiar anxiety isn’t present. Instead, he allows himself to relish the sounds of leaves rhythmically swaying in the wind, the prickles of untrimmed ryegrass through the fabric of his robes, the pleasant warmth radiating from the traditionally more traitorous English sun. He hasn’t been allowed to just exist in this simple capacity since he was a small child before his life was so convoluted and controlled by the decisions of more powerful men before the weight of the fate of all wizard-kind across Britain fell upon his shoulders, bowing his back and making him more Atlas than man.

There was something pulling at the back of his conscience, he can feel it pulsing through the severe fog that's invaded his senses. Not unlike when he uses his occlumency to bury his emotions when they overwhelmed him, or when it was imperative the Dark Lord not see the thoughts that ravaged his mind during Death Eater meetings. However, unlike those occasions where occlumency was the only option to halt an oncoming nervous breakdown, he couldn't wave away the haze. The longer he laid there, poking around at this inexplicable barrier around the parts of his mind that had ruled supreme these past few years, the spymaster, the renegade, the ruthless Death Eater, the protector, they all fell away. Hidden behind walls, not of his own construction and remained unreachable through the thick shroud of hazy quiet. Until suddenly even that muted feeling of alarm was swept away in the breeze and floated gently in the wind along with the dandelion seeds. Far, far away from him, and he finds he doesn’t bemoan the loss.

Severus supposes he should care, waking up in a strange place and so far removed from his own mind and thoughts. He should care, but he doesn’t remember ever being this tired. His eyelids feel so heavy that even thinking about prying them open takes an insurmountable amount of energy that he does not possess. The grass and weeds feel good against his back, far more comforting and soft than even his bed at Hogwarts and certainly his moth-eaten and unbalanced one at Spinner’s End, somehow feeling like the glimmers of contentment and peace of his childhood. The breeze a nice change from the howling winds of the Scottish Highlands, he thinks as it settles across him like a warm blanket. He supposes it’s not a bad spot for a bit of a nap, and he is so very tired. There are much worse places to drift away in.

That thought breaks through the veil in his head, just for one moment but it’s enough to bring the muted pressure of rotting wood up against his spine, a sharp, coppery scent replacing the smell of wildflowers in his nose, a cold voice breaking the peace he’s found. Severus tenses, his fight against the haze in his mind redoubles and twice as savage as before, panic and desperation by his side once more. Until he catches sight of green eyes in the unpleasant memories flowing by him, solemn but bright enough to burn away the flashes of images of a familiar-seeming, dilapidated house. That green fills his mind, gently carrying him away from whatever horrors trying to claw and scratch their way back into his awareness, pulling him gently away from an office with numerous paintings lining the walls and a high-backed chair, from the darkness clinging to a sprawling manor even it’s elegance could not override, from a smoky and underground lecture room, from a cramped, angry house by a polluted river.

Severus is distantly aware that these places hold some great significance to him, he feels the subdued emotional ties to them but is unable to articulate what they are or explain where they came from. He can’t bring himself to care and gladly follows that green back to the peaceful weightlessness of before, because somewhere he knows with a bone-deep surety that those eyes are home.

“Hey, Sev.”

Despite his previous weariness and weight of his eyelids, Severus finds it extremely easy to open his eyes. He is greeted by the pale blue sky of a warm spring evening, streaks of white clouds held in place above him, and the swaying branches of an old oak tree. It feels familiar, like greeting an old friend after a time apart. He slowly pulls his arms from his stomach, and props himself up on his elbows, and looks in the direction of the voice. And sitting amidst the knots and gnarled roots of the oak, chin casually resting in the cradle of her hand, sits Lily.

Red hair floats down around her shoulders, a few strands following the breeze as it makes its way through the field again. Her freckles scattered along the bridge of her nose, curling around her cheekbones just as he remembers. An easy smile splits her lips, one that speaks of fond and long-held affection, the very same as the one that haunts him in his dreams. But here she sits before him, solid and real in a way her presence hasn't been to him in many years. And those green eyes that he sees every time he closes his eyes, are looking at him with a gentle sort of mirth and a warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time.

There are a thousand words he wants to say, hundreds of apologies laying at the tip of his tongue, but they stick in the back of his throat. There is something in the way she reaches her hand out to him and sweeps the hair out of his face that makes them unnecessary, a sense of causal affection that tells him that she requires no explanations. They would break this wonderful moment of reprieve, so he’s content to spend the remainder of forever in this comfortable silence.

A million memories spill forth from the dam in his mind, some fuzzy with a deep fondness and peace, others sharp with a deep-set pain and desperate loneliness. They swirl around him in branching streams and he runs his fingers through them. The sudden sound of a cracking branch, biting retorts flown in reckless abandon, a betrayal by a glass-green lake. They flit about the edges of his mind, too quick to hold fast to and they slip from his grasp and dissipate into the lovely spring air. A small hand clasped in his, a peal of musical laughter, and those green, green eyes are the only things left. Home, Severus thinks, this is home.

“Hey, Lily.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, and Severus thinks she is every bit as bright and lovely and magical as she has ever been. She cups her hand around his cheek, and he can’t help but lean into her touch, feeling every bit like the grumpy cat she always compared him to. She gives him an affectionate glance and turns her eyes back to the field in front of them. The sloping hill, the grasses and the weeds, the wildflowers, all much more numerous and beautiful than their spot in Cokeworth but it feels right, familiar all the same.

Lily slowly rises to her feet and takes a moment to brush off the dirt collected on her trousers. She holds her hand out to him with a look of patient expectancy. He looked at her hand and then back up at her face.

“You ready to go?”

Severus closes his eyes for a moment, taking in the quiet and the lovely weather a final time, and stands. When he reaches for her hand, she opens it readily and grips him with a comfortable tightness. Here they stand again, hand in hand, after everything that's happened and against all odds. Joy fills him in a way that he hasn’t felt since he was that nine-year-old boy, bathing in her warmth and secreting away what happiness he could afford.

“I think I am.”

When they take their first steps together, he can feel Lily swinging their joined hands between them. And for the first time in a long time, Severus smiles.

[readyplayerhobi]

Captain’s Log | 1

; Starfleet Captain!Jungkook x Ex-Borg!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, future smut

; Word Count: 6.6k

; Synopsis:  Freshly promoted Captain Jeon Jungkook is one of the youngest captain’s in Starfleet history. Sent on a mission to provide aid to a fellow starship, he grapples with multiple problems from a Q who seems to be trying to be human and calling himself Seokjin to having the only Romulan in Starfleet on board and the intricacies of dealing helping an ex-borg crew member readjust. Whether he’ll manage to succeed is another matter altogether, but he’ll try his hardest to prove the USS Yi Sun-Sin deserves a place amongst the most famous ships in Starfleet.

; A/N: So...I’ve just decided to split this. And by split it...I may or may not continue it. I’m not sure how this will be received or if people will even enjoy given it relies very heavily on the Star Trek world. If I can get my inspiration back then I will definitely write the second part which will probably be much longer!

-

Captain Jeon Jungkook stood in the small transport ship, staring out of the viewport with his breath caught in his throat. Before him, was the vast expanse of space. Thousands of tiny twinkling specks of light dotted the view, each one a star that was hundreds, thousands or even millions of light-years away.

There was every chance those stars could already be dead. The big ones would have swelled, more extensive and more substantial as they tried to survive by burning as many gasses as they could before finally going supernova and exploding. All that would remain is a neutron star, the compressed core of what had once been a magnificent sun or instead, a black hole that would eat at the very fabric of the universe.

Smaller stars would simply burn out, becoming white dwarves and cooling for millions of years as they became invisible. Forgotten. What Jungkook was looking at, was visual proof that those stars had existed.

But that wasn’t what interested him.

No, what interested him was the monumental structure that hung in the deadness of space, beyond the atmosphere of Earth. McKinley Station was massive on a scale he couldn’t comprehend. Giant in the kind of way that only space could provide. It was one of Starfleet’s pride and joy, a spacedock that birthed the spaceships that protected the hundreds of planets in the Federation.

Cradled gently in the spacedock’s arms, like a loving mother just waiting to let her child go, sat one of those spaceships. She was brand new, her paint glistening in the lights that shone around her. Like other ships of her class, Curiosity, she had the familiar saucer section that took up a large portion of her size while towards the back, her currently powered down warp nacelles flowed out in two straight lines.

A pale grey, the only notable thing on her was the lettering scrawled across the top of her saucer. It slowly came into view as the transport moved around, letting Jungkook get a good look.

The larger script read her registry number, NCC-75715. It was the clearest text, but he wasn’t interested in that. No, he was interested in what was written above that in a smaller font.

USS Yi Sun-Sin.

Her name. The name she would be known by across the stars. The reason he was interested in the magnificent ship, so new that she would probably have the delightful fresh smell when he got on board, was that she was his. 

Captain Jeon Jungkook, one of the youngest captains in Starfleet history, was the captain of the brand new USS Yi Sun-Sin. This was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her, but he could feel his heart swelling with pride already as he watched the ship get closer and closer. He would lead her crew through the galaxy, make the hard decisions, explore the unexplored and defend the defenceless. 

It was still hard for him to realise that he’d made it. His years at Starfleet Academy had gone perfectly. Almost too perfectly. The highest grades, the best physical performance and graduated top of his class. He’d only been beaten in the mathematics and physics sections by a Vulcan, which was unsurprising.

After that, he’d run through the ranks of Starfleet at an exponential rate. As a result, he was only 31 and already a captain. His parents were beyond happy and bursting with pride that their little boy had made it to the honoured ranks of Starfleet. Just an ordinary guy from a small city called Busan.

Yet here he was. About to embark upon the greatest adventure.

-

One Year Later

“Engineering, what’s the status on the warp drive?” Jungkook asked, his finger pressed onto the screen embedded into the arm of his comfortable captain’s chair. The bridge stretched before him, a small space before reaching the helm and beyond that was the enormous viewscreen that let him see what lay beyond the Yi Sun-Sin.

A scientific anomaly in the nebula they’d been studying for the last week had caused the warp drive to unexpectedly power down. They’d been operating on thrusters since, managing to push the ship just far enough that they’d left the nebula. Engineering had been working on the drive ever since, frantically running through diagnostics and repairing blown conduits.

A starship without a warp drive wasn’t of much use to anyone. Jungkook was desperate to get it working again so he could get both his ship and crew away from any potential danger.

The last thing he needed right now was for a Borg cube to randomly fly by.

That thought ran through his head and he cringed at the thought, pushing it away quickly. He hoped that didn't happen. With the current roster, Jungkook didn't need his crew needing yet another reason to hate the Borg.

Not that he'd begrudge anyone for their negative feelings regarding the Borg. They were terrifying and Jungkook prayed to whatever god would hear him that he would never have to come across them. 

Any alien species they found that they deemed to be a worthy addition to their gigantic Collective was swiftly captured and assimilated. Rarely did those people ever manage to return once taken.

But a few did.

When he’d been choosing the crew for his ship, Jungkook had had the pick of a wide range of capable candidates. He’d quickly earned himself the Captain of Lost Causes title amongst his peers when they saw who he’d chosen.

His crew was eclectic, to say the least.

And that included an ex-Borg. The only ex-Borg in Starfleet since the demise of Icheb, a capable officer who had unfortunately been killed to harvest his Borg parts. Jungkook, and everyone else in Starfleet, had found that a sad day. Even more so because it had been the infamous Seven of Nine who had delivered the parting blow, ending his suffering when she found him.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful that had been for her. A lot of people were under the assumption that those who had once been Borg still retained their lack of humanity. Or whatever you called that in other species. They were wrong. People had it, they just didn’t know how to access it anymore.

Which was why he’d picked you to be his astrometrics officer. You had retained your knowledge from when you’d been in the Borg Collective, one drone amongst millions, even billions. That meant you had a formidable knowledge of space and how to traverse it, a mathematical mind that could only be met by an android and an innate understanding of science.

Needless to say, you were a brilliant Starfleet officer. 

You didn’t quite make such a good human though. Along with struggling to find your place amongst free-minded individuals once more, your social skills found much to be desired as well. Everyone on board Yi Sun-Sin knew about you, and they all knew about the problems you had faced in Starfleet Academy when it came to others.

Jungkook had found you endlessly fascinating for the first few weeks. Your lack of awareness regarding certain social graces and your complete disregard for rules if you felt they were interfering with something worthwhile had both bemused and exasperated him.

When he’d been given this ship, the only thing he’d thought about had been how to ensure he was commanding a large number of Starfleet personnel efficiently and with care. He wanted to be the kind of captain whom people were confident about coming to with their problems while also inspiring strong loyalty to take them into dangerous situations.

He most certainly had not expected what had happened with you over the last year. Not that he particularly regretted any of it. Starfleet didn’t have any concrete regulations when it came to fraternizing. Jungkook knew because he’d frantically scanned them all when he’d realised how deep he was into his feelings. All he’d been able to do was maintain that his personal life remained personal and that when in command, he didn’t let anything interfere with his job.

Alongside you though, he’d also taken on Lieutenant Commander Jimin. The slight man was currently standing behind the communications console to the left of Jungkook at the back of the bridge. He was Jungkook’s second officer and a Romulan. The only Romulan in Starfleet. Just like you, it had made him a little bit of an outcast amongst his fellow officers and cadets at the Academy.

Romulans were not exactly renowned for being friends of Starfleet. But Jimin’s family had fled Romulus before he’d even been born, gaining asylum on Earth and becoming productive members of society. Jimin had never known what it was like to be amongst Romulans; he’d never even seen the homeworld of his species.

That didn’t stop people from distrusting him though. From viewing him through the lens of hostility and anger. Unsurprisingly, he’d somehow formed a friendship with you and it pleased Jungkook to see that you both at least had each other.

But that wasn’t what was important right now. The damn warp drive was.

“Engineering reporting,” The soft and feminine voice of his Chief Engineer, Siyeon, filtered through to the bridge. “We have almost managed to fix the drive, Captain. I estimate another hour and a second test run will be required before I can recommend restarting the warp drive safely.”

Her words were brisk and precise, the famous mark of the ever so logical Vulcans. Siyeon had been the Vulcan to beat him in the subjects he’d hadn’t come top in at the Academy, her analytical mind pursuing her to move through the engineering ranks. When he’d seen her name available for his crew he’d jumped to bring her aboard, promoting her to a senior rank.

She was exactly like she’d been at the Academy, almost unaged due to her extended Vulcan lifespan. Long black hair in an understated cut, eyebrows in a straight line that made it a little hard to understand what she was thinking sometimes and the familiar pointed ears of her race. Due to the same origins of their species, she looked remarkably similar to Jimin with his ruffled black hair, straight brows and pointed ears.

Jungkook was glad to have her on board though. He felt like she could see problems that he hadn’t even considered before and sometimes came up with solutions that seemed surprisingly creative for a Vulcan. Though her second was a human. Chaos incarnate.

“Great, let me know when it’s ready and we’ll give it a try.”

“Acknowledged.” 

He has to purse his lips to stop himself from laughing at her brusque dismissal. It was still jarring to be dealt with in so quick of a manner but Jungkook knew that Siyeon didn’t mean to be rude. She just had more important things to worry about. 

“Jimin,” Jungkook called out to the Romulan, looking back and taking in his immediately alert stance. “Are the sensors showing anything?”

His direct gaze leaves Jungkook’s to look down at his console once more, fingers flying as he taps in commands and looks over everything. The top part of Jimin’s uniform above his heart is solid gold in colour, signifying he’s part of the operations division. It makes his slim shoulders look slightly broader, but not by much.

“Nothing in front or to the side of us, sir. I can’t confirm behind us. We’re still too close to the nebula and our sensors can’t penetrate.” Jungkook always found it a little odd, even after six months, to be staring at someone who resembled a stoic Vulcan so strongly and yet was the complete opposite. Jimin spoke with urgency, a slight tinge of worry in his voice as he was unable to give Jungkook everything he wanted while his brows dipped towards each other as his face gave away even more.

Romulans had never embraced cold logic like their cousins. If anything, Jimin was prone to bouts of rage if he was pushed to his limit. Quick to take offence and even quicker to take action. An unfortunate Romulan trait.

“That’s fine Commander, don’t worry too much over it. We’re still moving away so keep checking. Sensors at max, I want to be aware of every tiny meteor flying even remotely near us in this sector. I do not want to be surprised.” A brusque nod accompanied Jimin’s acknowledgement and Jungkook turned his attention to the next thing on his list.

Looking over to the chair next to him, he raised a slight brow at the Bajoran male sitting there. For a few moments, Commander Yoongi Min didn’t seem to realise his captain wanted his attention. He was too busy scanning over a datapad that had been handed to him by an ensign.

“Min?” Jungkook prompted, causing Yoongi to look up abruptly. The familiar ridges on the upper bridge of his nose gave away his Bajoran heritage, alongside the traditional decorative earpiece that was connected with tiny chains to the shell of his ear, an important part of his culture.

Licking his lips, Yoongi coughed slightly before nodding as he collated the reports he’d been given while Jungkook’s had been busy. 

“Sickbay reports ten injured when the conduits blew on deck 11, section B and C. No other casualties. Engineering teams have already repaired those conduits. Holodeck 1 is out for the moment due to a power surge caused. No ETA for the moment.” He carried on, the reports less important now he’d gotten the big ones out of the way but Jungkook still listened intently as his mind raced.

Once finished, he nodded his thanks to Yoongi before contacting sickbay for an update from his Chief Medical Officer, Dr Dahyun Troi. 

“Dr Troi, how are the casualties? Are you okay down there? Do you need any extra help?” There was a brief pause but he didn’t push it. He may be the captain of this starship but the Chief Medical Officer was the only person who was allowed to give him orders if necessary. The last thing he wanted was to aggravate her.

“Captain, we’re looking good here. I’ve already treated and released four of the casualties. Another three are probably going to be able to go in half an hour once I’ve given them a final scan. The last three are going to be here a little longer, I’m afraid. Ensign Adewale has a crushed left leg that will require surgery to repair while Lieutenant Martinez has suffered head trauma. I can’t give a firm diagnosis on Lieutenant Kapoor, though I do have a feeling that we may have to divert to a Starbase for the medical facilities there to look after her. There may be amputation required.” Dahyun’s voice was calm and gentle despite what she was reporting.

It made her the perfect doctor in Jungkook’s opinion. Always reassuring and with a soft tone of tranquillity, she managed to keep her patients relaxed even under the most stressful and painful of times. 

Which made sense. She was half-human and half-Betazoid, a telepathic race which allowed them to be empathic. The ship’s counsellor, Commander Taehyung Grax, was a full Betazoid. His stronger abilities made him a better option for sensitively dealing with the crew's psychological issues.

“Okay, keep me updated on whatever you need. We’ll plot a course to the nearest Starbase just in case.” Jungkook responds, ending the communication. Taking in a deep breath, he just lets himself have a moment to compile his thoughts and just...breathe. He hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours.

Logically, he knows that he could just leave the bridge and get some rest. Yoongi would keep track of everything for him and call him back if anything critical needed his attention.

The soft noise of the elevator doors opening caught his attention, looking over to see you walking out with your usual, self-assured strides. Your face was carefully blank, the Borg implant along your jawline matched with another at your temple. They’d been too interwoven with important nerves to be removed.

“Captain, the astrometrics lab is functioning as expected-” Anything else you were about to say is cut off by the sudden movement of Lieutenant Commander Jung Hoseok. The Chief Security Officer, normally so jovial and bright, moved at what seemed like warp speed to the main area of the bridge, his phaser pointed in front of him while he called for more security.

“Who are you. Identify yourself.” He said sternly, his elegant face like a stone as he watches the newcomer with wary eyes. Every tiny movement is tracked and before Jungkook even realises what he’s doing, he’s standing as well. Brow creasing, he looks over the man who has appeared in a flash of white light.

“I know who he is,” Ensign Namjoon Dax, the chief helmsman said softly. “He’s a Q.”

“Oh no, please no.” Yoongi moaned softly from Jungkook’s side, a hand coming to rub at his face. There was no need for Jungkook to question why he was reacting like that because even he knew what that meant. It had, unsurprisingly, become required reading to go over the reports from Captain Picard, Captain Janeway and Captain Sisko regarding their encounters with the being simply known as ‘Q’.

It was both his name and the name of his race. Extra-dimensional beings with immense power over time, space and plenty of other things that Jungkook desperately didn’t want to get involved with. Like the laws of physics, for starters.

Q was not something that any Starfleet officer wanted to get involved with. Because for as monumentally powerful as they are, as knowledge as they were, they were like petulant children. Constantly bored and wanting to play with the ants. Of which Starfleet ships often ended up being their playthings.

“You’re right, I’m a Q. How did you know? It’s my dashing good looks, isn’t it? Nothing in your universe could possibly compare to this exquisite facade. Handcrafted by the...well I don’t know but that’s not important.” Q said, his full lips spreading into a beautiful smile.

He wasn’t wrong. The alien man stood before Jungkook was good looking, to the point it almost looked unnatural. Tall and with broad shoulders, he had jet black hair that was swept off his forehead in an elegant style while his large eyes practically sparkled with mischief.

It made Jungkook feel ill.

“I know...because I’ve dealt with a Q before. The Q.” Namjoon is still sitting at this console, the red of his uniform denoting his command division and Jungkook feels a small swell of pride at how calm he’s being. Although, there’s no reason to get hysterical. From what he’d read, there was absolutely nothing he could do to make Q disappear until he got bored and left.

“Really? I don’t remember you,” Q said, puckering his lips into a pout while one dark brow rose as he scanned over the helmsman. “Handsome, tall, those familiar markings on your face...you’re a Trill. Do you have one of those creepy worm things in your stomach too?”

Gesturing towards Namjoon, Q’s nose scrunches up in disgust. Trill’s were a humanoid race and some of them were ‘joined’ with a symbiont. A worm-like creature that could only live in the body of a Trill, which was passed from host to host. As a result, Namjoon had the memories and knowledge of all the former hosts of his symbiont.

Including meeting Q, apparently.

“I have a symbiont, yes. And you won’t remember me. I’ve only been joined for a year. You might remember one of my previous hosts though? Jadzia Dax? From Deep Space 9?” There’s a brief moment of quiet as Q thinks before his mouth drops open and he points at Namjoon.

“Yes! You were very beautiful. Though you wore blue then, not red? And you were a woman. Is it strange, going from gender to gender?”

“No. It’s natural. I’m the Chief Helmsman of the Yi Sun-Sin whereas Jadzia was a science officer. You don’t look like that Q though.” Clearing his throat, Jungkook tries to turn the conversation to himself. He was the captain of this ship, after all, it felt odd to be so clearly excluded from the conversation.

“Oh well, that wasn’t me. That was my brother, Q. He shared his memory of you, that’s why I know. I’m Q. But I’ve been quite bored lately so I thought I’d try out this whole...living like one of you things. So, you can call me Captain Seokjin! Reporting for duty!” He says this brightly, grinning as he salutes. There’s another flash of light and suddenly, the plain white robes he’d been wearing are turned into a Starfleet uniform.

A command uniform...with the relevant pips of a Starfleet Captain on his collar.

Letting out a groan, Jungkook tries to control himself as he realises that he wasn’t going to be getting out of this easily. A Q who wanted to be human, or at least act like a Starfleet officer? At least cadets at the Academy were going to remember his name after being forced to read this report as well.

“You can’t just...turn up here and demand to be part of our crew,” Jungkook states, as calmly as he can with high blood pressure rising this much. “Can’t you...go to one of the inhabited planets if you want to live like us? Find a city and-”

“Pssht!” He’s interrupted by Q, or rather Seokjin, lifting a hand and making a gesture as if he was trying to blow away a bad odour. Baffled at being interrupted so blasé, Jungkook just stares at him for a moment with wide eyes before looking over at Yoongi. His second-in-command just gave him an unsure shrug, uncertainty written all over his face.

“I said I want to live like one of you. That means on one of your fancy starships, getting into danger and fighting bad guys. I wanna pew pew everyone!” Finger guns at the ready, Seokjin pretends to fire at Hoseok. When his Chief Security Officer just scowls at the intruder, Seokjin just grins and laughs.

Pressing at his temple, Jungkook reminded himself that headaches didn’t exist anymore. They’d been cured long ago. He was just feeling a phantom headache, that was all.

“You can’t just...waltz onto a starship and give yourself a command. For starters, there’s only one captain and that’s me. Another point is that you are most definitely not qualified to be on this ship. You haven’t passed Starfleet Academy, therefore you can’t be given a rank of any kind. And even if I did give you a field rank, it would be Ensign. Because I don’t know what you can do. If I’d even want to let someone as...chaotic as you even touch anything.” Maybe he went a little too far with that. Some of his words felt a little bit harsh and Jungkook had to work hard not to give away that he was uncomfortably aware that he might have pissed the omnipotent being off.

But all Seokjin does is sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes and flapping his arms around in a remarkably childlike tantrum. 

Subtly raising one hand, Jungkook calls for the security team to stand down. They do so slowly, unhappiness at the order apparent but they can’t go against their captain’s order. Straightening, Hoseok keeps a firm hand on his phaser, the gold of his uniform clashing slightly with the red he’d decided to colour his hair with recently.

“Why not? I’m more powerful than you anyway. I could take you places you’ve never even heard of. How about the Kinmara system?” Clicking his fingers, there’s a flash of light and the view out of the large screen changes abruptly. Instead of the vast expanse of space, there’s a large planet creeping into view.

“What the...where are we?” Jungkook asks, looking over at Jimin with wide eyes. His operations officer is staring with equally wide eyes before scanning the information on his console, rapidly touching it as he changes what he sees. 

“I...I don’t know. The star charts don’t match up with any of the stars out there and we don’t have this planet in the system. From what I can see...it’s an M-Class with a breathable atmosphere. Gravity slightly stronger than Earth but within acceptable parameters. Multiple life signs across the planet.” He stutters slightly, eyes flickering from the view to Seokjin before moving back to Jungkook.

An M-Class meant it was habitable to life forms like humans or Vulcans. The fact that it wasn’t charted, or explored, meant that Seokjin had no doubt used his immeasurable powers to transport the Yi Sun-Sin who knows how many lightyears away from their previous location.

“Yes, it’s called Kinmara. The system is named after it. It has two moons, one of which is also inhabited and is called Breehana. Lovely place, the weather is beautiful and the ocean is just right. Only the ocean is pink, as you can see. I love pink, it’s so pretty to look at, don’t you think? Anyway, the Mara’s, the name of the race down there, don’t get many visitors so you might find it interesting to visit.” Looking back over at the Q, Jungkook realises suddenly that he’s also materialised himself into a fancy chair.

It takes a lot of effort to bite his tongue and not snap at the powerful being. Jungkook needs to get back to where they were, and Seokjin is the only one who can do that. Especially when they didn’t even have warp drive yet.

“I’m sure it’s a lovely place to visit, but right now I would appreciate it if you would just transport us back to where we were? You see, we need to make some final repairs to our warp drive so we’re not interested in exploring Kinmara right now. But if you let us know where it is on a star chart then I’m sure someone at Starfleet will eventually get round to exploring it closer.” Giving a genial smile, Jungkook gives himself a mental pat on the back. He didn’t even sound remotely annoyed then, perfect.

Only he forgot that he’s not dealing with some rational lifeform. He’d read enough about the previous encounters with Q, and read the regulations on how to handle an encounter with one, plenty of times to know that there was no such thing as rational to them. They did what they wanted, when they wanted and how they wanted.

Unfortunately, this Q had chosen the Yi Sun-Sin to be his plaything for today. Which meant that headache that shouldn’t exist was beginning to very much feel like it existed.

“Oh, are we not exploring today? How about some action instead? I know the perfect place.” Another snap of his fingers and everything goes white once more. What takes a mere second feels like minutes, with Jungkook dreading what they’ll be faced with. Because if there’s one thing he’s certain of right now, it’s that it would not be where they’d started.

He’s greeted with a vista of space when he finally opens his eyes, the twinkling lights of far-off stars as familiar to him as the back of his hand. A welcoming sight.

What is not welcoming, however, is the immediate alarm that begins to blare through the bridge. Automatically, the lights dim and a familiar, if unwanted, red light begins to flash throughout the bridge while screens begin to show what the ship deems to be important information. 

Red alert. The standard Starfleet setting for when enemy ships are detected or they go to battle stations. Automatically, the ship has put itself into red alert when something has triggered its sensors. Under normal circumstances, this would mean the Yi Sun-Sin would be primed and ready for battle with weapons ready.

With no warp drive though, it was just a foreboding sound that chilled Jungkook to his very bones. Because there was something out there. Something that his ship deemed a danger to itself and her crew. Something he couldn’t fight.

“Sensors?!” He barks, jerking into movement. Hoseok doesn’t even waste a breath, practically leaping behind the security console and tapping at the screen. There’s no need to ask what he’s doing, Jungkook already knows that he’s trying to see if there’s anything they could do to fight.

“One ship, sir. It’s spotted us, five-million kilometres out and closing. It’s…” Jimin trails off, his already pale face draining even more as his mind acknowledges what he’s reading. His reaction alone makes Jungkook feel sick. Romulans weren’t prone to fear when it came to fighting. They lived for this kind of stuff, beaten only perhaps by the Klingons.

“It’s a Borg sphere, Captain.” The soft words come from behind him and he spins around, eyes widening while the rest of his expression freezes in dual shock and dismay. Your face is carefully neutral, just like it always is and he watches as you work through the data on your astrometrics panel. The sensors for your area are far more sensitive than the general navigation, which makes it no surprise that you’d figured it out first.

“Borg?” He almost whispers. There’s no need to look at the rest of the crew. The subtle wave of fear at the incoming ship moves around the bridge like a harsh wind. But at the same time, he feels a thread of pride at the actions of his senior command. No one panics or starts shouting, instead there’s an odd silence that soon turns the fear into resolve.

There may not be a lot that they could do, but Jungkook would be damned if the Yi Sun-Sin didn’t go down fighting in some way. Even if he had to ram the sphere. Did it make him a bad captain if he’d much rather his crew die in a suicide mission than be assimilated into a lifeless collective?

Glancing back over at you, he sees what no one else does. The fear in your eyes. The pure terror at the knowledge that the Collective you had once been a part of was so close to taking you again. From many conversations with you over the months, both casual and a little more intimate just before sleeping, Jungkook knew that you would rather die than go back.

There was no individual in the Borg. No one person, no freedom of thought of free will. There was only the Collective. A central mind that connected to every single Borg throughout the galaxy, billions upon billions of minds all working as one with no thoughts of their own. You had immeasurable knowledge from all the information that the Borg had harvested from the races they had assimilated over time, but you were terrified of losing your individuality once more.

A Borg drone, which you had once been, was nothing. The Collective thought nothing of killing off drones they deemed defective or those that couldn’t be repaired. There was no compassion, no empathy. No love.

Yes. Jungkook would rather his crew die than put them through that. He didn’t think he’d have many complaints about it either.

Perhaps a little selfishly too, he couldn’t bear the thought of putting you through that once more. You’d finally learnt how to be an individual once more and were exploring your humanity. The thought of you lost forever once more was even more painful.

Looking over at Seokjin, Jungkook gritted his teeth and pointed at him with fury. If only the Q didn’t have the kind of power that Jungkook couldn’t even begin to imagine or understand. He would sincerely love to punch the smug, handsome asshole.

“Take. Us. Back. I told you, we have no warp drive! That means we have no weapons! You’re not going to get the battle you wanted. We can’t fight the Borg, not like this. Take us back! You can be on the ship, fine whatever! Just...don’t touch anything and let us just do our mission! Please.” He begged, about ready to get on his knees if necessary. 

Maybe it wasn’t very becoming for a Starfleet captain, but he didn’t care right now. He had no idea where they were in the galaxy and if the Borg got them, then Starfleet would never know either. The Yi Sun-Sin would go down as missing in action, just another mystery that would never be solved.

But Seokjin’s attention has moved onto you, a curious expression taking over. Tilting his head slightly, he walks over to you with long, elegant strides that make it seem like he’s been on this bridge many times. It annoys Jungkook and he has to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from lashing out at the Q.

You could take care of yourself, he knew that. Jungkook had far more important things to stress over than Seokjin taking a sudden interest with you. So it’s with great pains that he turns away and begins to bark orders at his bridge crew, demanding the status of weapons before patching through to engineering and getting an update from them.

“What are you?” Seokjin asks you, eyes of a deep chocolate brown scanning your frame up and down repeatedly. Unlike anyone else on the bridge, the colour of the top portion of your uniform is blue. A signifier of the science division, it was rare for you to be on the bridge; Jungkook wished that you weren’t here right now given the way Seokjin was looking at you speculatively. 

He shouldn’t have been concerned though because you handled the omnipotent being with the same, cool regard that you did everything else. It had been a little frustrating when he’d first taken command, even more so when he’d realised that he had a potential romantic interest but he loved it right now.

Because you just stared at Seokjin, your gaze not giving away a single hint of emotion or expression. A slight tilt of your head gives away that you’re considering him and Jungkook probably shouldn’t get as much satisfaction as he does by the way Seokjin shuffles, almost as if he’s awkward.

“You are a Q. The Borg have never met your species before. I have no frame of reference for how to engage with you except for the reports from Starfleet.” As usual, your words are straightforward and precise. No one ever has to worry about whether you hold hidden intentions, it’s simply not in your nature anymore to engage in subterfuge.

“The Borg,” Seokjin sounds surprised and he scans over you a few more times, brow rising. “You can’t be an actual Borg, they wouldn’t let you stay here. Not to mention you don’t have all that ugly machine stuff on you. Humanoid and in a Starfleet uniform. You were a Borg, but now you’re not with the Collective anymore. How fascinating.”

“Very. Captain, if you will excuse me then I have duties to attend to.” You’re looking at Jungkook now, lips pursed expectantly. Pausing in his questions to everyone else, Jungkook nods and permits you to leave the bridge. It’s not unnoticed by him the way Seokjin watches you in fascination as you leave. His stomach turns at the sight and worry fills him.

Not that there’s any point. You can take care of yourself and more importantly, none of them could stop whatever Seokjin wanted to do.

“How very interesting.” Jungkook can’t help but glare at the Q as he watches you leave, twisting his lips in a bizarrely human gesture. Finally, he reaches his boiling point and points in frustration out of the viewscreen.

“Borg. Danger. Leave. Now.” Part of him knows that he shouldn’t be as blunt and rude, not when the situation was this dangerous. But he didn’t care, he just wanted his crew and ship away from danger. Something that Jungkook couldn’t do himself. He’d begged, he’d argued and now he was being firm.

If Seokjin wanted to pretend to be part of his crew then he would have to learn to take orders from him. It was the only way this whole stupid thing was going to work without causing Jungkook some serious stress. The very fact that he was even considering this said volumes about the fear and pressure Jungkook was under right now.

Exhaling slowly, he pleaded with himself internally to keep himself calm. From what he’d read about the Q, and that was the race as a whole, it wouldn’t do to antagonise him. It’d do no one any good if he decided to just disappear, leaving the Yi Sun-Sin to its fate.

“Fine, fine. Urgh, you lower lifeforms have no sense of adventure. You’re all so boring.” A click of his fingers sends everything white once more. Once his vision clears, Jungkook immediately starts barking orders to his crew. He didn’t need to though, they were automatically moving like a well-oiled machine.

“We’re back where we started, captain,” Jimin confirms with a nod of his head, his gaze still focused on the readout from his console. He doesn’t say anything more, his fingers too busy darting across the screen as he takes in what he’s seeing.

“Well, this was a waste of my time. I’ll be back when the fun starts.” With that, Seokjin vanishes. The bridge is eerily silent for a few minutes after he’s gone, everyone looking at each other in confusion as the red alert status disappears now they’re safe again.

“Is he gone?” Yoongi asks, looking over at Hoseok. The security chief glances down to his console, lips pursing as he scans through the information before nodding his head slowly.

“No...Q life-signs detected on board. Or rather, only what we expect should be onboard. Looks like he’s really gone.” Something inside Jungkook relaxes and he suddenly feels so, unbelievably, tired. Groaning quietly, he flops back into the captain’s seat and rubs at his forehead. He should visit the medical bay, it’s not natural to have a headache.

“Okay. Okay, well. He’s going to come back, we know that. Just be prepared, warn everyone on board and I want to be informed the moment he turns out. Hoseok, you better make sure your security team is ready for anything he decides to do. I know you probably can’t do anything but it’ll sure as hell make me feel better. Yoongi, get onto engineering and see if they can speed this whole thing up. I want to be gone as soon as possible, is that understood?” Yoongi nods, automatically turning to the interface in his chair.

“Yes sir, I’ll collate reports from all departments and send them to your ready room.” Nodding to his second-in-command, Jungkook stands and stretches with a groan. He’d spent long enough on the bridge and he just wanted some time to relax. But he couldn’t do that, not yet.

“Great. I’m going to head to sickbay, check-in with Dr Troi as my head is killing after that incident. Then I’m gonna try and get some rest. You’ve got the bridge Yoongi, once the engines are fixed and working then get us going again. Warp 8, back on our path. And...send a report to Starfleet about what’s happened. Try and get some advice on what to do with all this. Everyone good with their orders?” Looking around, everyone on the bridge nodded in acknowledgement to him and a weight lifted off his shoulders.

He had a good bridge crew, and he knew that he could rely on them while he was gone. Heading over to the turbolift, entering the circular car and asking for the desk that medical bay was one. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed as it began to move.

“Fuck.”

[vibraniumwing]

i’ve got you, always. [1]

an oliver wood x reader wherein oliver tries to bring the walls the reader built because of a past heartbreak down. will he manage to do that or break his own along the way?

WARNING: angst. 

A/N: so @harrysweasleys​ planted this idea into my head about how oliver wood and y/n met and how their love blossomed after her heartbreak with fred (if you do not know that then please read this first before proceeding) this part is more of a backstory as to how the two met.

i have split this into two parts and you can find the second part here.

---

Oliver Wood was an absolute charmer in his days at Hogwarts. He has the girls swooning over him with a simple smile of his— but who wouldn’t be? He’s the Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor.

Because he has only loved and still loves a certain girl, despite her breaking his heart unknowingly, despite him knowing that it was his own fault to begin with.

That was you, (Y/N) (L/N).

---

Oliver had first met you during his fourth year, his eyes landing on the small you amongst the crowd of first years who were just as excited to be sorted into their own respective houses. He watched you silently walk up to the chair and sat down, his fingers crossing immediately as he silently wished for you to be in Gryffindor.

And as if the Sorting Hat heard him, you were placed in Gryffindor. The Scottish found himself cheering along with the students as they welcomed you to the long table. You sat beside Fred Weasley and in front of him, too shy to even look at any of them.

“Hello there! I’m Fred!” “I’m George!” The twins immediately introduced themselves, offering their hands to you, which you hesitantly accepted and shook. “I-I’m (Y/N), though you probably heard earlier.”

The way you spoke tugged at his heart gently, making him smile to himself as he stared at you. “That’s Percy, our brother and that next to him is Oliver Wood, the captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.” Fred continued, motioning to the two boys in front of you. 

The former merely spared you a glance while the latter gave you a rather warm welcome, “Hope ya like Quidditch! I’ll be looking out for you in the stands.” He teased, unable to hold back the smile as you nodded excitedly, looking forward to seeing how he played in the field. Despite not being the sporty type, you enjoyed the certain thrill of watching the game.

“Hey, (Y/N)! We’re on the team too!” Fred suddenly boasted, “We’re the beaters!” George continued, starting to chow down on the dinner that suddenly appeared from the table. 

As you easily fall into the conversation with the twins, a certain captain can’t keep his eyes trained away from you; unsure on how to deal with the feeling brewing within him.

---

“You do know she’s three years younger than you, right?” Percy questioned Oliver as he straightened up his school robes and hat.

He groaned softly into his hands, slightly annoyed that he was constantly reminded of that,  “I know, Percy. I don’t even know how to deal with this myself and you know me, I always plan and deal with things.” 

The ginger just shrugged, really unsure on how to deal with the dilemma of his friend. “That’s up to you to decide, Wood.” He said before heading for the door, off to do his rounds as a prefect.

And with that, he was left to deal with the problem alone.

---

If there was anything that Oliver Wood was good at aside from Quidditch, it was keeping his thoughts to himself. After Percy left him alone in their dorm three years ago, he swore himself to secrecy, to never let anyone else know about his little “crush” and decided to just bury it into the back of his mind.

But despite his best efforts to keep his infatuation at bay, you were making it harder to do so. As he witnessed you slowly mature and come out of your shell, the more he finds himself growing fond of your presence.

Oliver found himself by the covered bridge, staring over the vast amount of green as he pondered with his thoughts. The pressure was slowly growing on him with his final Quidditch season and urge to win the cup, his N.E.W.Ts, and of course his pent up emotions, he felt like his head was about to explode. 

“Oliver!” A sudden voice called out, he looked over to see your familiar (H/C) locks bounce as you walked over to him, a bright smile on your lips, “You seem worried out of your wits. Is there anything going on inside that head of yours aside from Quidditch?” you asked, earning an eye roll and scoff from him. 

He turned around and leaned against the railing, crossing his arms, “Quidditch ain’t the only thing that’s on my mind, lass.” he answered, not even fighting back the smile that was making its way to his lips. “Then enlighten me, Wood.” 

Maybe it was the longing feeling of having someone to turn to that made Oliver cave in, “Just pressure, ya know? With my N.E.W.Ts and the Quidditch Cup lingering, it’s quite hard to bear. Then there’s another thing I have to deal with but it’s nothing that concerns you, really.” He confessed, panic settling in him as he realized the latter part of what he just said. 

Curiosity got the best of you when he mentioned that he had another thing to deal with, making your eyebrows furrow as you tried to probe around the subject, “Well it is certainly my business now, isn’t it? Since you’ve told me already.” 

Panic settled into Oliver as he seemed to struggle with putting the correct words in, fearing that he might spill something to you. He stood there, silent as he contemplated whether or not to tell you about what he was really pondering on just a few moments before you made your presence known. 

“It’s just that-” He stopped himself mid sentence, looking at you with a hesitant glance before continuing, “I got this girl I like, been that way since fourth year. My feelings were never unchanging of hers yet I’ve never made it known to the public. No one ever really knows who, I’ve turned down multiple people because they’re not like her.” He explained, looking at you expectantly, nibbling down on his lower lip as he looked at you nervously.

Your face turned into one of excitement, smiling at the realization that he’s got a crush. “Oliver Wood has got a crush? And he doesn’t know how to deal with it? Blimey, that’s something very unusual indeed. What’s the catch though?” Teasing him lightly, you motioned him to continue his explanation.

Taking a deep breath in, he continued, “I’m unsure if she would like me back, (Y/N). Besides, she’s younger than me so I highly doubt that she would feel the same.” 

His words made you frown, disliking the fact that he looked at himself so lowly despite him being an actual heartthrob inside the school nor the fact that this was uncharacteristically like him, knowing he would always be sure of his actions, “Oh please, i’m sure whoever that person is would like you back! I mean who wouldn’t? You’ve got extreme loyalty to whatever you’re passionate about, you’re a stellar student and player in the field, I doubt that person would even turn you down!”

The way you hyped him up sparked the little circuit of hope he had, thinking that he might have a chance with you. His worried expression soon morphed into one of determination, the same one he would have during matches. “Alright then, I think I might just do it then. Thanks for the pep talk, lass.” Oliver said, patting you on the shoulder as he walked straight for Hogsmeade, wanting to give a gift upon his confession.

“I’ve got you, Oli! Always!”

---

Your words were burned into the back of Oliver’s mind as he made his way into the Gryffindor Common Room, clad in his hands was a bunch of beautiful parchments, a special quill and a beautiful bottle of color-changing ink, knowing how you loved to do writing in your free time.

As he entered, his eyes immediately scan around for the set of (H/C) hair he knew by heart. Spotting you by the couch, he approached you. However, the sight that followed next was not what he had initially expected. 

It was you, in the arms of another person, laughing your heart out as the both of you cuddled in front of the fireplace; in the arms Fred Weasley.

Your head whipped around at the sight of him in your peripheral view, “Oh Oli! How did it go?” You asked him excitedly, moving a bit to make some space for him to sit down, motioning your hand for him to come over.

He didn’t know what to do, he was stuck in his place as he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. The girl he wished for, the one girl he turned everyone down, the one girl he looked for inspiration during his darkest times, was never going to be his. 

“Fred just confessed to me earlier today! He had this whole picnic set up by the Black Lake, it was wonderful! How about you though? How did things go with your mystery lady?” You exclaimed, leaning into Fred as you were now questioning how things went.

There were no words as to how pathetic Oliver had felt as you boasted on how sweet and extravagant his confession was. He held his gift at his back and mustered up a small smile, “I opted not to, (Y/N). She has a boyfriend now, didn’t want to be much of a wrecker, would I?” 

“Oli, I’m so sor-” “No, it’s alright. You didn’t know” He answered quite harshly, glancing at a rather smug looking Fred as his hands tightened around your waist.

He approached you both and placed the gift down on the table, using every inch of his power to give you another smile, albeit half-hearted, “You can have these instead, I find it no use to give it to her anyways.” 

You stared at him with wide eyes as you looked at the rather extravagant ink and quill, “Oli, these are so expensive, are you sure you want to give these to me instead?” 

“Positive, have fun with those.” He whispered, unable to hold his heartbreak anymore and made his way to his dorm; the feeling of disheartenment lingering through his skin as he remembered the incident he had with the ginger that held you securely in his arms.

---

“Oliver!” Fred called out, jogging up to him. He noticed that the expression on the freckle-littered boy was rather serious, making him stop in his tracks and raise his eyebrow at the younger. “What is it, Fred?”

He huffed lightly and shoved his hands inside his pockets, “So you like (Y/N) too?” his tone hint with aggressiveness. The younger looked tense as he competed with the intense stare Oliver gave him.

‘too? He likes (Y/N) too?’ he thought to himself, “So what about it, Weasley?” He questioned him, his tone as equally- if not even more aggressive- as the ginger. His arms were crossed, yet his fists were already clenched, knuckles white from holding back; disliking how the former approached him.

“Just back off, She’s mine.” And with that, the red-head left, leaving the older boy confused and angered. “I won’t lose her to a guy like you.” He answered back, obviously ticked off that someone wanted her as much as he did.

Who was he to say such words like that? 

---

Oliver stared at the mirror, cringing at how lifeless he looked. He’s been restless since the night he has seen you with Fred, ripples of pain shooting through his heart at the memory. The smile you had that night was permanently etched in his mind, almost haunting him in away.

You were is ray of sun, the motivation he needed when he felt hopeless; yet in these moments, he wanted nothing more to just wipe you away from his memory.

He has managed to stray away and hide from you for the past couple of days, internally thanking the fact that he had to study for his N.E.W.Ts and Quidditch Practice so he has concrete excuses as to why he was avoiding you like the plague.

“Wood, are you coming? We’re waiting for your speech before the match starts.” Harry asked him, staring at his captain with expectant eyes, unaware of the current grief he was holding so tightly to his chest.

With all of the energy he could produce, he masked up and grabbed his broom, ready to face the match ahead. 

or at least he thought.

There you were, hugging Fred tightly as you whispered wishes of good luck with their match against Slytherin. 

Stopping dead in his tracks, his angered boiled quite quickly and shouted, “Oi Weasley! Get your arse in the tent right now!” His voice dripping with agitation and jealousy. 

The red-head placed a quick kiss to your lips before walking over to the tent, noticing the smirk that was plastered on his lips, Oliver gripped on his broom even tighter as he spared you a glance.

“H-Hey, Oli!” you managed to say before he entered the tent. Oh Merlin did he miss hearing your voice. He turned around and looked at you expectantly, foot tapping in anticipation. 

“Good luck at the match today. I believe in you.” You cheered him on, waving the little flag you brought with you before skipping away to the stands to join your friends.

A big smile suddenly appeared on his lips, a sudden wave of determination washing over him at the cheer you gave him. As much as he hated himself to admit this, you were still his energizer. 

And your cheer was all that he needed to push forward.

---

“And Harry Potter has caught the snitch! The best house-” “Jordan!” “Sorry Professor, Gryffindor has won the match! They won the Quidditch Cup!” 

As Lee Jordan’s voice rung out through the whole pitch, Oliver’s eyes were wide in disbelief, cheering along with his teammates as they have finally won the cup. He was leaving Hogwarts with the Quidditch Cup in their hands.

He watched as his the twins carried Harry on their shoulders, raising the trophy high up in the air as they laughed to their hearts content. Personally receiving a few greetings of his own, he was more than ready to rest at the Hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey all in his ears.

“Oliver!” A familiar voice rung out through the crowd, looking around, he saw you running towards him with the biggest smile. He dropped his broom instantly and opened his arms, ready to accept you in his arms. 

You jumped to his arms, hugging him tightly, a proud feeling swelling in your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Unknowing of the fact that the latter wanted nothing more than his moment to last, “Congratulation on winning! I knew you could do it!”

You broke away from the hug and placed your hands on his shoulders, “How are you though? You took some nasty bludgers to the stomach.” You asked, frowning lightly at the sight of him falling down. 

The older shook his head, a wide smile on his lips, “It’s nothing too bad, (Y/N). Nothing I can’t handle.” He explained, ruffling your hair lightly, which earned him a few punches to the arm. “Thank you for cheering me on though, it meant a lot.” He continued, giving her a smile, his real smile.

 “Like what I said before, Oli. I’ve got you, always! Now, I’ll be off, Congratulations again, Captain!”

And with that, he watched you jump into Fred’s arms, lips locked in a rather brief kiss as you shouted congratulatory words to him.

Oliver couldn’t even bear to look at the sight, smiling once more to his teammates, he headed off and decided not to look back.

To never look back at you and the memories you made.

---

general taglist: @theweasleyslut​ @violetravens​

[suituuup]

pandemic shenanigans

Chloe discovers TikTok and decides to do a bunch of pranks on her girlfriend

rated: T

word count: 3k

ao3 link

*

It’s the pandemic’s fault. 

Chloe was bored af one day at the start of quarantine, and decided to download TikTok, the app Gen Z has been raving about. Little did she know five minutes on the app could turn into four hours without her being aware and brought procrastination to another level. 

She quickly becomes addicted to cute animal videos (duh) and couple pranks. So addicted that the temptation of trying a few on her girlfriend is too great. 

i. Did you forget what today was

“Morning,” Beca mumbles, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm as she shuffles towards the coffee pot. While Chloe’s an early bird, Beca rarely makes it out of bed before ten on the weekends, and Chloe is usually already showered and dressed by the time she does. 

She and Beca live in that same studio which they used to share with Amy, until their Australian friend inherited some serious money and moved out. 

It’s been really nice to have an actual bed instead of that crappy pull-out couch. 

“Good morning,” Chloe chirps, craning her neck to accept the kiss Beca brushes to her lips. Beca slides in the chair across hers, pouring some milk in the bowl Chloe’s set out for her, followed by cereals.

(yes, she’s that weirdo who puts the milk first.)

“What?” Beca pauses with her first spoonful halfway to her mouth, finally noticing Chloe staring at her. 

“Did you forget what today was?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, cradling her mug in her hands.

Beca blinks, and Chloe can nearly see the fuck popping up in her brain as panic flashes in her eyes. “Uh, Saturday?” 

Chloe purses her lips, both to appear annoyed and to keep her bubbling laughter in. “Beca.” 

Beca’s nose scrunches up. “I know, I know, gimme a sec. This is not our anniversary, or your birthday, you’re not working today so there’s nothing important regarding your job,” she lists off, her eyes lighting up a beat later. “Oh! Is it this weekend Aubrey’s coming up?” 

“No,” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe you forgot.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Beca rushes out, standing up and crossing the distance between them to sit across Chloe’s lap. She kisses her softly, looping her arms around her neck. “I’m sorry. What’s going on today? I promise I’ll make time for it. And I’ll give you a massage tonight to make up for being a bad girlfriend. And we can eat whatever you like.” Smirking mischievously, she adds in a lower tone, “And, I’ll let you do whatever you wanna do to me later.” 

Chloe grins, unable to hold it any longer. “Nothing’s going on, babe. I was just messing with you.” 

Beca’s jaw falls open as she pulls back, glaring. “Not cool, dude!”

Chloe simply giggles, nuzzling her neck and pressing an apologetic kiss to Beca’s skin. “You’re cute when you’re panicking.”

A huffs puffs free and Beca pouts. “Whatever.”

Chloe tightens her hold around Beca’s waist so she can’t get away. “Can I still do whatever I want to you tonight?” 

The whimper that rises from Beca’s throat shoots a chill down her spine. Beca’s cheeks redden and she squirms a little in Chloe’s lap. “Yeah--yes.” 

Safe to say Chloe won’t be uploading that video on TikTok. She also won’t tell Beca this was a Tiktok prank, because this turned out to be a lot of fun and she’s got more up her sleeve.

ii. climb on their lap while they’re busy doing something else

Friday nights are Chloe’s favorite. As none of them work during the weekends, it means they get two whole days of quality time with each other. Tonight though, her highly professional girlfriend needs to take care of a few work things to make sure she can spend a stress free weekend, but it’s been hours, and Chloe is kind of craving some attention. 

Beca’s working on her laptop while sitting on the couch, and after changing into her PJ’s, Chloe unceremoniously curls up sideways on her lap, looping her arms around her shoulders and resting her forehead against the side of Beca’s neck. 

“Oh,” Beca breathes out, setting her computer aside before her arms loosely wrap around Chloe’s body. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Chloe murmurs back, brushing a kiss to Beca’s neck and releasing a soft sigh of contentment. 

Beca’s hand runs up and down her thigh as she pushes a kiss to Chloe’s hair. “You alright?” 

Chloe hums, forgetting all about her phone propped against one of the shelves capturing the moment to make a TikTok, instead basking in the instant comfort being in Beca’s arms provides. 

Beca peppers her face with soft, featherlight kisses that make Chloe warm from the inside out. She really is a slut for Beca’s affection. “M’sorry I had to work tonight.” 

Chloe smiles. “It’s okay.” She pecks Beca’s lips and brushes her nose against hers. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t work too late, babe.” 

Beca nods, winking softly. “Right behind you.” 

True to her word, Beca slides under the covers less than five minutes later and tugs Chloe’s body against her own. Chloe releases another happy sigh, which is cut-off by a yelp when Beca runs her freezing toes along Chloe’s bare calf. 

“Becs!” She cries, moving away and slapping her arm. “Your feet are freaking icicles!” 

Beca snickers like a teenager, seemingly very proud of her act. 

“Put some socks on.” 

Beca’s nose scrunches up adorably. “Ew. No way.” 

“Then stay on your side,” Chloe grumbles, tugging the covers higher around her as she rolls away from Beca, settling on her opposite side. 

“Sorry,” Beca whispers into the dark, shuffling closer. “I won’t do it again.” 

She feels her resolve break as Beca’s lips trace a trail from her exposed shoulder blade to the side of her neck. She hates her traitorous body for not having any willpower when it comes to Beca’s ministrations. “You better not, or I’ll kick you,” she half-jokes. 

“Kinky,” Beca breathes along with a soft laugh, pressing one final kiss to Chloe’s cheek as she drapes her arm around her middle. “I love you.” 

Chloe laces their fingers and squeezes. “I love you too, weirdo.” 

iii. walking out naked while they’re in a zoom meeting 

“Well what doesn’t he like about it?” Beca’s voice carries from the living-room as Chloe stands in their bedroom, a towel wrapped around her naked frame. 

That video of her and Beca cuddling on the couch blew up, hitting 3 millions views and about 400k likes. The few homophobic comments that popped up were quickly drowned out by thousands of people gushing over their relationship or crying about wanting the same kind of relationship. 

Beca was of course aware Chloe would post that video on the internet and weirdly wasn’t opposed to it. 

“Again?” She hears her girlfriend sigh and steps out, losing the towel as she rounds the corner. “I mean, yeah, sure. I’ll see what I--” 

Beca’s words die on her tongue the second her eyes flicker up from her computer screen. Her jaw drops and her mouth gapes wordlessly for a few seconds. 

Chloe is briefly concerned she might have broken her girlfriend.

“Beca?”  Her boss’ voice carries through the speakers, snapping Beca back to her meeting. 

“Yes, yeah-- um-- sorry, I…” She stammers as her cheeks burn, and clears her throat. Her eyes quickly glance back to Chloe, who is fighting against a string of giggles. “I’ll-- I’ll work on something else, no problem.” 

“Alright, keep me posted.”

Beca nods. “See ya.” She shuts her computer so fast Chloe’s concerned she might have damaged it. “You’re evil,” she mutters, shaking her head. 

“Are you complaining?” Chloe husks, strutting over in her birthday suit and tossing her phone on the couch.

Beca visibly swallows, bracing on Chloe’s waist as she settles down her lap. “Never. But next time try not to give me a heart attack?” 

“Deal,” Chloe murmurs, bending down to capture Beca’s lips in a searing kiss. 

iv. Ask them what they would do if they were at a party and a hot girl came up to them

“Hey Bec?” 

“Mm?” 

It’s a rainy rainy afternoon, the ones Chloe loves as they don’t have anywhere to be, and she gets to chill on the couch with her favorite person while listening to the rain pelting against the window. 

Chloe’s head is on Beca’s lap as she lies on the couch, reading a book while Beca messes around on her phone. Beca has absentmindedly been scratching her scalp, and Chloe was about to fall asleep when she got a prank idea. She discreetly propped up her phone against her mug on the coffee table a minute ago, pressing record. 

“What would you do if you were at a party and a hot girl came up to you?” 

Beca lowers her phone, peering at Chloe over it. “What do you mean?” 

Bending her knees, Chloe shifts to sit up and faces Beca. “What would you do if a hot girl flirted with you?” 

“You know I don’t know when people flirt with me, right?” 

Yes, Chloe does know. She lost count of how many times she’s flirted with Beca over their four years of friendship pre-getting together without Beca having a freaking clue. 

“Okay, but still,” Chloe clears her throat and straightens a bit from her slouched position, tucking her legs underneath her. “Let’s say you’re at a party, and I’m a random girl, not your girlfriend, alright?” 

Beca rolls her eyes but nods anyway, setting her phone down and angling her body towards Chloe a bit more. 

Chloe props her elbow on the back of the couch and cradles the side of her head in her palm as she smiles softly, getting into character. She reaches out to run the tip of her pointer finger along Beca’s forearm while keeping her gaze locked on hers, her teeth racking over her bottom lip in an over-the-top flirty move. “Hi.” 

“Hey you,” Beca murmurs with a small smirk, leaning closer a little. Chloe swats the back of her head. “Ow! What was that for??” 

“It’s not me,” she reminds Beca as the brunette rubs the spot with a glare. 

“Sorry, it’s just hard to remember that with those eyes of yours,” Beca laughs. “I can’t focus, they’re pulling me in.” 

“Aw,” Chloe beams. She leans in to peck Beca’s lips, raising an eyebrow when Beca pushes her away. 

“Dude, I’ve got a girlfriend.” 

Chloe rolls her eyes, shoving her as Beca laughs. “Touché.” 

v. ask them if they still get butterflies

“Bec?” 

“Mmm.” 

Spring morphed into summer. A hot, sticky and humid summer. The pandemic is still very much a thing, and Chloe can’t even tell you what day of the week it is anymore. To make things worse, their AC is down, which is why they find themselves on the rooftop of their apartment building that evening, laying on a couple blankets as they stare up at the night sky. Chloe misses the hundreds of stars she would gaze at when she was a kid in Oregon, but she sort of finds the steady sound of cars passing by in the street below them soothing. 

Or you know, maybe it’s the joint she smoked twenty minutes ago with her girlfriend that is finally hitting her. 

“Do you still get butterflies?” 

Beca’s head rolls to the side so she can look at her. “Still?” She asks, smirking softly. “They never left.” 

Chloe giggles, shoving her lightly. Beca is known to grow sappy and affectionate when she’s high, and Chloe absolutely loves it. “Dork.” 

“Felt them just this morning when you were singing in the kitchen while making breakfast and almost pinched myself because I still have to wrap my head around the fact that I get to marry you.” 

Chloe does a double-take as she registers Beca’s words. “What?” Her voice is barely there, hidden under the layers of emotions seizing her throat. 

“Well… yeah,” Beca shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re like, it for me, you know?” 

Moments where Beca splits herself open like that are rare, and they never fail to make Chloe’s heart soar. 

“Are you going to say something Beale or keep staring at me like a weirdo?” Beca eventually quips, chuckling softly. 

Chloe shakes her head a little, then leans forward to push a lingering kiss against Beca’s lips. “I love you, future wife.” 

She feels Beca sigh contentedly as she curls up against her side, her arm wounding around Chloe’s back. “I love you, too.”

vi. sigh loudly in front of them

“What’s wrong?” 

It’s day two hundred something of quarantine. Chloe is bored out of her mind. 

“Nothing,” she whispers, keeping her tone unconvincing on purpose. She’s lying on the couch while Beca sits at the end working on her computer, a Friends rerun playing low on the TV. 

Beca shuts her computer and sets it on the coffee table before crawling up Chloe’s body and settling on top of her. She presses a light kiss to the side of Chloe’s neck. “You sure?” 

“Mhm,” Chloe hums, looping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. 

“I can stop working,” Beca suggests softly, placing another kiss to her chin, then to the tip of her nose. “Wanna go grab some Chick-fil-A? Then we can watch one of those cheesy rom coms that you like.” 

“M’okay,” Chloe agrees quietly. “Can we just cuddle for a bit?” 

“Yeah,” Beca breathes. “Course we can.” She settles her head on Chloe’s chest, lifting it a second later. “Wait, is this a TikTok thing?” Upon Chloe nodding, she groans. “My reputation is taking a blow with each one of those, you know that right?” 

A giggle bursts past Chloe’s lips. “I’m sorry, your what?” 

That earns her a glare. “Bite me, Beale.” 

vii. wipe their kiss away

“I hate this fucking pandemic,” Beca grumbles as she makes it inside, kicking the door shut with a little more force than necessary. “I hate those Karens who don’t wear masks,” she continues as she hoists her two grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “Scratch that, I just hate people in general.” Beca eventually takes off her mask, heaving out a sigh as she drops it onto the counter. “Finally.” 

Chloe smiles in amusement, walking over to start putting the groceries away. “Thanks for going out, babe.” 

“No problem.” She pecks Chloe’s lips on her way to store the yogurt in the fridge, doing a double-take when Chloe wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Did you just… wipe my kiss away?” 

“What? No I didn’t,” Chloe replies innocently. 

Beca stares at her, cocking an eyebrow. “Was it not up to your standards or something?” 

“I mean…” Chloe shrugs nonchalantly. “It was just a peck.” 

“Mmm.” She resumes her task, closing the door to the fridge behind her before making her way over to where Chloe is standing, setting her hands on her hips from behind and coaxing her to turn around. 

“What are you--” the rest of her sentence is cut off by a moan as Beca’s lips capture her own. Chloe’s knees wobble from the heat of the kiss, its intensity sending shockwaves throughout her body, all the way down to her toes. She’s left in a daze by the time Beca pulls away, blinking twice in slow succession as she rolls her swollen lips together. “Holy shit.” 

Beca puffs out her chest a little, smirking. “That’s better.” 

Groceries forgotten, Chloe slides her hand into hers and drags her to the bedroom. 

viii. call them your spouse during a phone conversation

“I’m home,” Chloe calls out as she steps inside their studio apartment. She pauses in the doorway, taking in her surroundings. 

Their small kitchen table is beautifully set, two candles lit on each side and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers sitting in the center. Soft acoustic music is playing through Beca’s portable speaker. “Hey, you.” 

“What’s all this?” Chloe asks, smiling brightly as she slings her purse off her shoulder, setting it down. 

Beca approaches, a sheepish smile spreading across her features. “Well… because of this freaking pandemic, we haven’t been out in months, so I thought we could just do a home-date. I ordered from your favorite sushi place, should be here any minute.” 

“Aww.” Shrugging off her jacket, Chloe steps up to place a soft kiss to Beca’s lips. “You’re sweet. And very sexy,” she adds with an eyebrow waggle, taking in Beca’s fancy jumpsuit and hairdo. “I’m gonna go change real quick.” 

Chloe hurries to the bedroom and opens her closet to pick something; she can’t remember the last time she wore a dress, her main outfit having consisted of a hoodie and sweatpants for the better part of the year. Plucking her navy blue, knee length dress out, she changes into it and takes ten minutes to arrange her hair and put on light make-up. 

Beca is on the phone as she steps back out into the kitchen, grinning when Chloe appears. “Yep, got it. Listen, I gotta go, my wife and I are about to eat dinner.” 

Chloe freezes mid-step, her heart stuttering as she registers the term Beca used. 

“Sorry about that,” Beca says once she’s hung up, casting Chloe a smile as she sets her phone down. 

“You just called me your wife,” Chloe murmurs, her eyes shrinking suspiciously a beat later. A gasp follows when it hits her. “Wait, are you TikTok pranking me??” Her gaze quickly sweeps the room. “Where’s the camera, Mitchell?” 

Beca simply grins, shaking her head as she reaches for something in her pocket. “Not a prank, babe.” 

Shocked eyes lifting from the square velvet box nestled in Beca’s palm, Chloe watches as Beca steps closer and lowers herself on one knee. Her heart trips dangerously and she stops breathing altogether. “Bec, you better not be lying.” 

The way she seems nervous all of the sudden tells Chloe this is definitely not a prank. “Chloe--” 

“Yes,” Chloe croaks out, tears pooling in her eyes as her head bobs up and down in a frantic nod. 

Beca’s chuckle comes out strained as she blinks back the moisture in her own eyes. “Dude, let me ask the question at least.” 

“Sorry.” Chloe clamps her lips together and squeezes Beca’s hand to wordlessly let her know she may keep going. 

“Chloe,” Beca repeats, her voice wavering slightly. “This year has been weird as fuck, and the most challenging one yet, but despite everything, I had a near constant smile on my face because of you. You’re my best friend, and the most beautiful person I know, inside and out.” She sucks in a deep breath through her nose, letting go of Chloe’s hand to open the box. Chloe gasps softly at the sight of a simple, yet elegant oval cut diamond set on a rose gold band. “Will you make me the happiest person on earth by accepting to become my wife?” 

“Yes.” She tugs on Beca’s hand, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as soon as she straightens. “I love you so much.” 

Beca grins against her mouth, backing away just enough to seek out Chloe’s eyes. “I love you, too.” 

As she stands there basking in this new, overwhelming wave of feelings, Chloe decides that 2020 wasn’t that bad, after all. 

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Another one?!, Part 1

Next

She pulled Hawkmoth’s pin from his costume and breathed a sigh of relief when he detransformed.

“Huh, so it was Gabriel the whole time? That almost makes too much sense,” she murmured.

“What’s that supposed to mean--?!”

She punched him in the face and couldn’t help but smile as his nose cracked beneath her fist. Except, maybe, she’d been a little harsh on him because he was now knocked out cold.

Oh well. He’d been the source of about half of her stress for the past three and a half years. He deserved more.

Marinette allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief and close her eyes.

Had she not been afraid he would grab the pin from her when he inevitably woke up before she did, she would have passed out then and there. They’d been fighting for days straight and she was exhausted.

But there was still a bit more to do. She pushed herself to her feet and looked around.

They were on the bridge where Andre’s ice cream cart usually was, though it was hard to tell. The area around her was still aflame from when an akumatized Ryuko had decided that it was time for Paris to burn to the ground. She wiped her sweaty forehead and looked down at Gabriel. She needed to get him to safety... but was there still a place the fire hadn’t touched?

She didn’t know. She needed to find out.

She tied him up with her yoyo and picked him up, carrying him under her arm as she ran through the streets of Paris.

Hopefully, she’d spot her partner on the way.

A few minutes later she spotted Adrien sitting on a rooftop. She wanted to yell at him to get down, because all the flames were making the buildings structurally unsound, but then she saw his face.

Something was wrong.

He looked at her and, if possible, his shoulders managed to slump even more.

She bit her lip and glanced at Gabriel. She decided that she could leave him alone for a few minutes. He was tied up, there was no way he’d be able to get away before they noticed.

Besides, she had his miraculous. What was he gonna do? Be a bad parent at her?

She dropped him in a relatively safe place and then climbed up the building.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked, taking a seat beside him.

He motioned behind himself and she cringed a little bit when she found Nathalie. The woman was barely conscious. Her face was puffy and bruises were starting to form.

“So, it was Gabriel and Nathalie all along,” she mumbled.

“Yep,” he whispered, his grip tightening on his baton. “I have no family left. They’re all dead or sucky.”

“You have me.”

“That’s different.”

Marinette didn’t say anything. He wasn’t wrong. Instead, she gently pulled him down until he was resting his head in her lap. Her fingers combed through his hair.

And then she paused. She mulled over the first thing he’d said...

“Wait, your mom is dead?” She blurted. Then she pulled her hands from his hair and covered her face. “Sorry, that was stupid. I meant to say that I just thought she was missing, I was just surprised, that was a terrible way to phrase that, oh my kwami --.”

Adrien was laughing, though.

She couldn’t help but smile despite her embarrassment.

And then she was giggling, too.

Sure, it was generally not what you would laugh over, but their brains were so fried from lack of sleep and the amount of revelations they’d had in the past few days that everything was absolutely hilarious. The building could have collapsed underneath them and they would have found it in themselves to laugh.

But, eventually, they sobered. Mainly because the adrenaline had finally started to die down and laughing is extremely painful when you have broken ribs or a ruptured diaphragm.

Adrien sighed lightly, then winced.

“But… yeah. Apparently that was what Hawkmoth’s wish was going to be. He wanted to raise my mom from the dead.”

Marinette looked down at him and wasn’t surprised to see tears spilling over the front of his mask. She didn’t say anything about it, though, opting to just run her fingers through his hair again.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Marinette mumbled. “I’m still sorry you have to go through this.”

He slowly pushed himself up. “We should fix everything.”

He offered her a hand to get to her feet and she cringed lightly as she forced herself to put weight on her definitely sprained ankle.

“Right. I think I left my Lucky Charm…” She paused, racking her brain, then nodded to herself. “It should be back by the school.”

They looked at Nathalie and Gabriel. Both of them were passed out due to their injuries (and probably the smoke, the heroes were lucky they’d thought to get filtration systems in their masks but everyone else...).

“Should we… leave them?” He said slowly.

They were pretty far away from the school and they were injured. The idea of lugging the two the whole way there was…

She hopped down -- FUCK, there was that sprained ankle again -- and slowly untied Gabriel. Adrien must have figured out what she was planning, because he brought Nathalie down with him. She tied them to a mostly safe lamppost.

With that mostly dealt with, her boyfriend hooked his arm around her and they started the slow walk back to the school.

They kept their gazes up. They told themselves that they didn’t see all the bodies in the streets. Didn’t see the way they clutched their throats with pained expressions etched on their faces for the rest of time. Didn’t see the way their clothes were singed or completely burned off in places. Didn’t see the way their skin was littered with burns or scuffed where they had fallen while trying to escape.

It was harder to ignore the deafening silence that surrounded them. The only thing to be heard was the crackling of fires and the occasional sound of a building collapsing. The first few days had been filled with screaming but now...

She heard a squeak under her foot and stopped, glancing down.

It was a stuffed bear. Its arm was still smoldering.

Adrien gave her a gentle tug. She wiped her eyes and continued walking.

But when they got there…

“Please tell me that your Lucky Charm wasn’t flammable.”

Marinette pursed her lips tightly as she watched the flames stretch ever-higher. Of course the school had gone down quickly, it was filled with papers. Still, it surprised her to find it like that.

And then she processed his words. And her face drained of color behind her mask. Because she remembered what her lucky charm was. It had been a bag of flour. Pretty much the most flammable thing to exist.

Which meant that she couldn’t cast the miraculous cure.

Which meant that everything they’d just seen was going to have to stay that way. All those people were...

She leaned into Adrien heavily and buried her face in his shoulder. She felt him stiffen beside her and then he slowly turned into her and wrapped her in a hug. Neither of them said anything as he nuzzled his face in her hair. Neither of them acknowledged the fact that tears were dripping onto her head or that the front of his suit was getting wet.

“What do we do?”

Because there had to be something. There was no way they could just let these people die. There had to be some sort of loophole, had to be some sort of way to fix it.

Clawed hands dug into her. “I don’t know…”

Marinette finally hugged him back.

“I have an idea. I hate it but it's…”

“What is it?”

“We use the wish.”

He pulled away quickly. “What? Mari, no, we can’t.”

“So, what, we just let them all die?!”

“We…” He paused. “We can’t just bring them back to life. You know how it is, the world will balance out. A bunch of other people will die instead.”

She threw her hands up in frustration and then instantly regretted it as pain flared in her chest. She hugged herself and sent him a glare.

“I know that! But it’s not like we can just let the entirety of Paris die!”

He shook his head slightly. “It’s the same amount of people dead. It doesn’t matter if it’s people you care about versus people you don’t know, we can’t just --.”

“Shut up! You’re only able to say that because everyone you care about is evil or dead!”

Adrien flinched. Hard.

She looked away. Shit. Why had she said that? He was being fair, what she’d said was totally uncalled for. She bit her lip.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me. This isn’t your fault and I’m lashing out at you and that’s not fair. I just… I can’t let them die, Adrien. They were all counting on us, and I let them down… I shouldn’t have brought your family into it...”

He nodded slightly. She wished she could see his face behind his mask… or maybe she didn’t. Because she could see his eyes, and they were so hurt…

And then she came to a realization.

“Wait, wait, Adrien, your mom.”

“Yes, I get it. My mom is dead,” he said bitterly.

She winced, then shook her head. “Not that. Well, yes, that, actually. What if we make it so she never died? If she never died then Hawkmoth wouldn’t have existed and no one would have died. We need to try it.”

“And if a lot of random people drop dead because of us?”

“They already have!” She realized she was yelling and dropped her voice back down to a calmer tone as she continued: “Either we get lucky and only one person has to die to bring everyone back or another two million drop dead somewhere else.”

He gripped his baton tightly and then shook his head slowly.

“Mari…”

“Please. It’s our best bet.”

He reluctantly pulled the ring from his finger. She took off her earrings.

The kwamis looked at each other in alarm.

But the humans weren’t seeing any other options.

She felt the ring drop into her hand and winced. She and Adrien met eyes and she slowly leaned up, pressing a short kiss to his lips.

“Dontcha trust me, Chaton?”

He gave a halfhearted grin. “Usually, M’lady. Make sure to add that we remember everything, I am definitely not going through that love square stuff again.”

She nodded slightly, biting her lip.

“See you on the other side.”

She made the wish.

~

He flinched and shielded his eyes from the bright light that emanated from the ring and earrings. By the time he was able to open his eyes again, he found himself sitting at his piano.

Adrien sighed. Wow, he could actually sigh again without hurting. Was this what breathing normally was like? He touched his no longer broken ribs. Man, he was never going to take those for granted again.

Well, at least that was good. Everything else around him was awful.

He was apparently in the middle of piano lessons… in the middle of a school day. Which meant that, in this reality, he had never attended public school.

Sure, he no longer really had friends there outside of Marinette due to Lila, but at least he had had Marinette. He scrolled through his phone contacts and sighed again. He had a whopping four numbers saved: Chloe Bourgeois, Kagami Tsurugi, Gabriel Agreste, and…

Emilie Agreste.

It worked. He didn’t really know why he was surprised. He wouldn’t be there right now if it hadn’t, it should have been obvious, but it hadn’t really sunk in yet. His mother was alive. She was present. He could see her right now if he wanted.

But he couldn’t yet. Mainly because he knew that the moment that he saw her he would likely break down, and he didn’t know how he would explain that.

Besides that, he hadn’t seen his mother in nearly four years. What was he supposed to say to her? Could he really go up to her and act like he’d spoken to her just yesterday?

His phone buzzed in his hand and he raised an eyebrow at the unknown number. He shrugged to himself and answered the call, pressing it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Chaton!” Said Marinette brightly.

He raised his eyebrows. “How do you still have my number? We haven’t met in this dimension.”

“I have it memorized.”

“Of course you do,” he murmured. Then he paused. “Wait a minute… aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

“Nope, Lila got me expelled again.”

“Again?! How do they keep falling for that?”

“I dunno. Seems like this one is permanent, though. I’m in online school now.”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “The hell? Do you know what changed?”

“No clue. Tikki and Plagg dunno either… or they just don’t wanna tell me because they’re still mad. I dunno.”

“I guess we’ll find out if the entire world gets wiped out by a plague or if we hit World War III in the next few days.”

Marinette gave a tiny laugh, though he could tell it wasn’t real.

Adrien opened his mouth to ask if they should spend some time looking into it… but then his door opened.

Emilie.

His breath caught in his throat. He was sure he looked stupid, his mouth hanging half-open as he stared at his mother, but he couldn’t care less. His eyes searched her face, comparing it to the last time he had seen her. There were a few more lines, her eyes were a little more tired, but it was undoubtedly his mother.

“Adrien?” Emilie and Marinette said at the same time, their voices laced with worry. Of course they were worried, he had been completely silent for over a minute.

He looked at the ceiling and blinked a few times to get rid of the tears threatening to spill over. Probably another reason they were concerned.

When he was sure that he could keep his voice steady, he spoke: “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He knew she didn’t really believe him, the tiny frown on her lips made that obvious, but she wasn’t questioning him. Thank kwami. He didn’t even know how he could play that off.

“Are you done practicing for the day?” She asked.

“No, I just stopped to talk to my friend.” He brought his phone back to his ear. “I’ll call you back later. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Adrien,” she murmured.

The line went dead. He dropped his phone into his lap.

“Friend?” Emilie teased with a knowing smile. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks. “Chloe or Kagami?”

“Marinette. She’s…” He scrambled for a believable place he could have met her. “... I met her at her parent’s bakery and we really hit it off.”

His mother took a seat next to him. “Would you like to talk about her?”

“Uh… maybe later.” He said, despite intending to avoid the subject for as long as he could possibly get away with it. Not only was he scared of getting his story wrong if he talked too much about her but the idea of talking to his recently un-deaded mom about girls was just a bit uncomfortable.

“Alright… want to play piano together?”

“Of course.”

They opted for Chopsticks. Even if they could pull off almost any piece without a hitch, they didn’t really want to. It’s a lot of effort. Sometimes the basics are exactly what you need.

And, when they finished, they heard clapping.

Adrien flinched and looked around.

It was Gabriel Agreste. He leaned in the doorframe, clapping semi-sarcastically (after all, Chopsticks isn’t exactly to their normal standard), but he looked so… happy.

Adrien almost didn’t know what to do. When was the last time he’d seen his father like that? A smiling face, relaxed posture, and even casual clothes… was this even the same guy? It was hard to imagine this man could ever be Hawkmoth.

Emilie grinned and gave a sarcastic bow. “Thank you, my love. We tried very hard.”

His parents looked at him as if expecting something. But Adrien didn’t really know what to say. How do you interact with people you haven’t known in years?

“Are you alright?” Asked Gabriel, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Adrien couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed himself to his feet. “I need some air. Can I take my bodyguard out to a bakery?”

“I suppose... but what’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said, then fought back a wince. Well, at least it wouldn’t find it weird. They’d just think he was going through an angsty teen phase.

He grabbed his phone and wallet and gave a wave as he slipped out the door.

Adrien got into the car and leaned back in the seat. He mumbled the address to Marinette’s bakery and then typed out a message to his girlfriend to warn her that he was coming over.

He stared out the window as they cruised through the streets. He’d always hated being driven places, it always gave him a lot of time to think. His bodyguard wasn’t exactly the most verbally inclined person. He was always left alone with his thoughts. He hoped that he’d get to Marinette’s place soon, because he felt like he was going to go insane.

One thing. One thing had changed, and suddenly his life was the best it had ever been. Sure, in this world he didn’t go to school, but that was fine. It was apparently plausible that he would have met Marinette anyways, and at least then he wouldn’t have had to worry about Lila or find out Chloe was a horrible person.

Speaking of terrible people, his dad was, inexplicably, a decent father again. He cared about him and made jokes, it was like seeing an entirely different person. He couldn’t take it. He’d been so close to having this for the past four years of his life and yet...

The bakery came into view. He sighed in relief. Thank kwami. A distraction.

~

The first thing she’d done when she’d fully understood how her new life was going (hint: not well) was call Adrien. This was mainly so he’d have her phone number but also because she’d been a little scared that maybe the person who had died instead of his mother was him.

That would be one bitch of a butterfly effect.

She looked at the butterfly miraculous still in her hand. Pun not intended.

But, anyways, he was fine. She was happy to hear his voice, even if he sounded a little anxious.

Then he’d hung up. Marinette had heard a woman’s voice over the line, so she assumed that his mother had appeared (she doubted he’d hang up if it was just Nathalie).

So this wish had worked…

Great?

She looked at the pair of kwamis hovering by her. They were giving… disapproving looks, to say the least.

Marinette huffed a little. “What, was I supposed to let everyone die?”

“It will balance out,” said Tikki with a sigh as she settled into her normal spot on her shoulder.

“Well, could you at least tell me how?”

Plagg shrugged. “We don’t know. We don’t have any control over it, either.”

She sighed and pulled out her computer. Fine. She would just have to search the web. Surely, it would be something big. Either a bunch of people would have died that hadn’t before or someone important would either be dead or alive when they shouldn’t be.

So, she scoured the internet for things that had happened over the past four years.

But there wasn’t anything.

Sure, it wasn’t like she paid a lot of attention to news when she was twelve, but as far as she could remember everything seemed alright. There hadn’t been any major genocides, no major nuclear incidents, not even an out of place politician (she thought, though that one was harder for her to confirm).

She bit her lip and looked around until she found her bulletin board.

In the last dimension it had been covered with posters of Adrien but now it was empty. Huh. She supposed that made sense. She’d fallen for Adrien because he was kind and, from what she could tell, no one had been kind to this Marinette for quite some time.

She decided not to think about it too much. She could tell that her future was going to be depressing, she was going to avoid that for as long as possible.

Besides, she’d found the perfect distraction!

Marinette hummed to herself as she printed off headlines from all over the world (or, at least, translated versions of them) and started tacking them up. She put special emphasis on the ones that had to do with the past few days or the day that Emilie went missing by connecting them all with pink yarn.

And then the trapdoor was flung open.

She screamed and practically threw the bulletin board in an attempt to hide it (because she surely looked like a crazy person, or at the least a very invested conspiracy theorist).

She whipped around and then relaxed. Adrien.

“Oh, Chaton, hi,” she said, resting a hand over her heart as if that would calm it somehow. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“I sent a text.”

She frowned and walked to where her phone sat on her desk, glancing it over and finding that, yes, he actually had texted her.

“Sorry, I was a bit distracted.”

He glanced at her bulletin board and raised his eyebrows slightly. “Seems like it.” He slowly climbed through the trapdoor the rest of the way and closed it behind himself.

Plagg floated over to him and dropped the cat miraculous into his hand. He didn’t even seem to think about it as he slipped it onto his finger.

They sent their kwamis out to recharge.

Marinette slowly pulled her bulletin board out again, propping it up against the bed.

“Anything seem off to you?” She asked, taking a seat by him on the floor.

His eyes flicked over the headlines for a bit, head tilting to the side as he thought. And then he sighed and shook his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s all right.”

“Me too. What are the chances that the whole consequences thing was a lie so we wouldn’t use the wish and get infinite power or whatever?”

Adrien gave a humorless laugh. “That sounds like something Master Fu would do but I don’t think Plagg or Tikki would do that. I don’t think they can even lie to us.”

They stared at the board in silence for a few more minutes.

“My dad is a good person in this reality,” said Adrien, his voice soft. “I was so… I was so close to having a normal family.”

She hesitated, unsure what to say to her boyfriend. She rested her head on his shoulder. His head rested on top of hers.

“At least you can enjoy him being nice now?” She tried weakly.

“Not really. It feels almost wrong now. He doesn’t feel like my dad, he feels like some random guy who happens to look like him. And, with my mom, I just don’t know how I’m supposed to talk with her. What do I say? What does she know? I don’t know her at all but she knows me so well and it’s weird --.” He cut himself off with a sigh. “Sorry, I just… I have a lot of emotions right now.”

“It’s okay, I’ll vent when you’re done. Make it fair,” she half-joked.

He gave her a halfhearted grin, his hand finding hers. “I’m pretty much done. If I kept going I probably just would have repeated myself. What’s wrong with new you?”

“Uh… mostly the fact that Lila got me expelled, apparently permanently because I’m in online classes and seem to have been for a while, and that I have about fifteen blocked numbers and two contacts. Not a good ratio to have.”

His thumb rubbed circles in the back of her hand she couldn’t help but relax a little.

“Guess we’re now we’re both homeschooled idiots with decent parents now. We can start a club.”

She laughed. “Remind me why I’m in love with you.”

“I’m hilarious, devilishly handsome, good with kids --.”

He was cut off by a kiss. She ran her free hand through his hair and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

They stayed like that for a while. It had been a long few days and they were perfectly happy to just relax together like this, even if it was only for a moment.

But, eventually, she pulled away. He rested his forehead against hers as they caught their breath.

He broke into a cheeky grin. “Is that how you’re always going to shut me up? Because I have so many more good attributes that I can list off. We could do this for hours --.”

She kissed him again, though this time they were both laughing a bit too much to take it seriously.

Did they know, somewhere, that avoiding their problems like this wasn’t doing them any good? Sure, but that didn’t mean that they were going to stop.

~

Adrien sat on a park bench, staring at where the statue of Ladybug and Chat Noir used to sit.

He wondered, vaguely, what that artist was doing now. Did they still do art? What were their subjects?

It was always weird to think about all the lives they had affected but he’d found himself thinking about it far more often now that they were practically nameless.

Alya still had a blog dedicated to vigilantes, though it was for ones all over the world and the style was different. Lila lied about how she’d known the Waynes before they’d died instead of how she knew Ladybug and Chat Noir. The usual debates about which Parisian hero was cooler were replaced by talk of gameshow contestants.

He’d never done heroism for that kind of reason, he’d had enough fame as Adrien Agreste to satisfy him for this life and the next, but it almost like all the work he’d done as Chat Noir had been useless.

Maybe because, technically, it was now. If Hawkmoth had gotten the ladybug and cat miraculi first day the world would have likely been the exact same as it was for him now. Three and a half years of work, and all of it could have been avoided.

He felt someone sit down beside him on the bench and he sent his girlfriend a tiny smile.

“You came,” he chirped, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pulling her into him.

She laughed. “Yeah, obviously, you would have never let it go if I didn’t,” she joked, wrapping her arms around him as well.

Their smiles slipped a little as their eyes fell on the blank spot where their statue had been.

“I miss being a hero,” he breathed.

She didn’t say anything for a long time, and he was starting to wonder if she’d even heard, but then she mumbled her answer: “Me too. It feels like something’s missing.”

He nodded his agreement, though he got the feeling that they were talking about it in different contexts.

“It’s weird. I used to hate being a hero but, now that I’m not anymore, it’s almost like there’s nothing to do. It’s just not the same.”

Yep. They were thinking different things. He didn’t mind, though. What does the reasoning matter when they were both feeling the same?

So, he’d laughed quietly and gave her a theory he had for her problem: “I think we messed up our adrenal glands. Nothing is dangerous enough for us to really get that high, so everything feels weird.”

“Well…” She began, a smug grin on her face.

He rolled his eyes. “Nothing legal gets nearly dangerous enough,” he corrected himself.

She laughed a little and rested her head against his chest. He rubbed tiny circles into her back.

“We could still be heroes, you know…”

He raised his eyebrows a little bit. “Sorry?”

“I mean… who says we have to stop?”

“The fact that there’s no supervillains for us to fight here.”

She gave him a tiny shrug. “Then we don’t do it here.”

He fought the urge to facepalm. Of course. How had he not thought of that before? There were plenty of supervillains and there was absolutely no way that all of them already had heroes to face off against.

(And, on top of that, they were kind of avoiding their problems. It was much easier to do that when all your problems were in a different city.)

“Have you ever heard of Gotham? It’s got a lot of crime and pretty much no one protecting it.”

He tipped his head back against the back of the bench and tried not to laugh.

They had both come to an understanding back when they’d started that they would be protectors of Paris for as long as Hawkmoth ruled, then it would be over. They had thought they might remain friends but all superhero business was definitely coming to an end.

Oh, how plans had changed.

She must have taken his silence for hesitance, because she quickly backtracked:  “We have two years before we can move out anyways, so we have a lot of time to decide --.”

“I’d love to, M’lady.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

He grinned and pressed a kiss to her nose. “Is that even a question? Fighting crime with you until we grow old? Sounds like a dream, honestly.”

Her face reddened to the shade of her costume.

“Oh… good.”

“Good,” he agreed.

They laid back on the bench together and smiled as they imagined what they could be doing in two short years.

~

They were, in fact, two very long years.

It turns out that avoiding people is very hard. Especially when they live in your house (Adrien) or when they purposefully drop by every few days to gloat (Marinette).

It was a testament to their patience that they didn’t just grab their stuff and move out a few weeks in.

But, if they had done that, they probably wouldn’t have gotten the same rush of relief that they’d had when they stepped out of the cab -- Gotham didn’t have a direct airport, it was too easy for criminals -- and seen Gotham for the first time.

They were free.

Marinette hummed to herself as she helped grab some bags from the trunk and then looked around with Adrien.

They’d purposefully chosen to get out in the middle of the city to gauge how bad it was, and it was somehow even worse than they’d thought it’d be. Someone was selling drugs like they were hotdogs, yelling ‘coke’ at the top of his lungs. An old lady had pulled a gun on an actual hotdog vendor. A cop was taking a bribe to turn the other way so some kids could hotwire a car.

They broke into wide grins.

“We have some work to do,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow at their bags. Her face dropped into a pout.

“Fiiiine, we’ll unpack first.”

He laughed and waved her along.

~

They smiled as they stepped into their new house.

Gabriel had tried to buy them an entire manor as a wedding present but they’d managed to talk him down to a normal house. It was in a decent neighborhood (by Gotham standards), it had a room for them and a guest room, it had an island counter in the kitchen. That was basically they’d all cared about.

Well, that and…

He carefully peeled up a few floorboards underneath their bed and she dropped the miraculous box inside. Thank kwami they’d thought ahead enough to get laminate flooring, they didn’t know what they would have done to hide it if they’d gotten hardwood or marble.

And then they’d gotten to work setting up the house. Most of the furniture was already there, but they still had to unpack their belongings.

Adrien… was not really allowed to do much of the unpacking. He’d wanted to help, but Marinette was very particular about both kitchen equipment and clothes. Sure, she definitely understood different folding methods and their effects and would likely be the only one using the kitchen, but he still wanted to do something. Unfortunately, those were really the only two things that needed being done.

He’d settled for watching her do things from a windowsill and giving occasional encouragement.

She was done within two hours.

He grinned. “Y’know, I miss France.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, Gotham has no sunny windows to sit in. It’s depressing.”

She pressed her lips together tightly to hide a smile. “That’s so sad. I feel awful for you.”

“I know!” He said, stretching out. “Ready to go, M’lady?”

“Well, yes, but we need to talk personas.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Personas? What about them?”

“No one knows who we are here. This is our one chance to change our personas.”

Adrien hesitated. Change their personas? The idea of it was foreign to him. Chat Noir had always been his way of expressing himself without worrying about how it would hurt him and his father’s reputations. Chat was such a big part of him, getting rid of him would be insane.

But he knew better than anyone that Ladybug was just an idealized version of Marinette.

While Chat had been great for his mental health because he had an outlet for all his feelings, Ladybug had had the opposite effect for Marinette because it made her feel inferior.

He smiled encouragingly. “I’m keeping mine the same, but if you want to change yours that’s perfectly fine.”

She nodded and bit her lip. “Hey, Tikki!”

Tikki popped her head out of the kitchen and then slowly came around, their paws behind their back as they tried to hide the macaroon she’d stolen with her body. “Yes, Marinette?”

Marinette looked like she was going to ask about the macaroon, because it was really easy to see, but then she apparently decided against it. “Can I change my outfit?”

“No, sorry.”

She pouted. “That’s stupid. Can I at least have a more practical weapon than a yoyo?”

“No, everything is set, sorry.”

Marinette groaned. “That’s it. I’m stealing a pipe from the street and using that.”

Adrien laughed, hopping down from the windowsill.

Tikki looked like she was going to argue, but Marinette transformed before she could.

“You’re totally going to get a lecture for that later.”

She clicked her tongue and rested her hands on her hips. “Not if I never get out of the suit.”

He rolled his eyes. “Smart, I see no problems with that plan. Plagg, claws out.”

“Nooooooo,” complained the kwami as he zipped into Adrien’s ring. The cheese he was holding dropped onto the floor at his feet.

They stared at it for a second, then Adrien shrugged. “Problem for later?”

“Definitely.”

The partners sent each other excited smiles as they slipped out a window.

~

For the record, they did try and do things the ‘ethical’ way originally.

Approximately three months. That was all that it took for them to break their no-killing rule.

Of course, they hadn’t really wanted to kill anyone. But…

Marinette stared at the body at her feet.

She tightened her grip on the bloody cane in her hand.

She was disgusted with herself… because she didn’t feel any guilt at all.

It had been necessary, it was very obvious that he wasn’t going to be serving any hard time. After the second time they had caught him she had researched him and found that he was an assassin that worked for the mob. He would always be bailed out.

The police were corrupt. She knew that. It was pretty much the only consistent thing in this world, but this was way worse than she was used to. They wouldn’t just openly let someone out because a mobster told them to, it would always be discreet bribery of the jury or judge.

No wonder the city was having such a hard time. This would be more work than they’d been expecting...

Adrien’s sigh brought her back to reality.

He held up his hand to use Cataclysm, but she grabbed his arm and held him back.

“No. I have an idea.”

He frowned, raising his eyebrows.

“Can you go to the craft store and get some spray paint? Red, black, and green. Please?”

The next day the mob found their assassin’s body stuck to the outside of one of their bars. On the door they found the words ‘We’re cleaning up the city’ in green and, underneath that, the words ‘Sorry about the mess, service workers’ in red. It was signed with a graffitied ladybug and black cat.

A few days later, the entire staff was found dead.

The lucky ones had found their deaths quick, either beheaded by a yoyo string or shot with a gun stolen off another staff member.

Others had no bodies at all. All that remained of them were piles of dust.

The mob boss’s body had been found in the center of it all, broken and bloody. He’d had the most painful death, it seemed. He’d been beaten to death with what forensics had later identified as a cane and a staff.

But, while the police were concentrating on the massacre that the Parisians had left behind, the criminals had focused on the words that had been left on the building.

The green was the more basic of the two, a simple ‘We told you we were going to, you should have prepared’.

In red, though, was what was later dubbed the Crime Tier List. Here, they had detailed how they would punish different crimes. At the bottom was ‘Juvie’ which had only listed ‘Kids’. At the top was ‘Murder’ which had included, most notably, ‘Serial Killers’ and ‘Mobsters’.

Needless to say, people were a little bit more hesitant to commit crimes.

They didn’t stop. Obviously. It was Gotham.

But they did start doing things more discreetly. You could no longer find cops accepting bribes on the street or muggings out in the open or drug vendors yelling about their wares.

Instead, Gotham leaned in to a different part of its underworld, focusing more on organized crime.

Marinette and Adrien grinned at the blurry photos of their personas found in an alleyway, giving a reward for information. If they were already putting out a hit on them then the higher ups must be at least a little concerned about what they might do to them.

Good. They should be concerned.

~

The police tried to capture them one time.

They actually succeeded in capturing Marinette.

And then quickly realized their mistake.

She hadn’t been concerned as a gun was pressed to her back. Sure, the gun would definitely kill her. She wasn’t completely invulnerable, and her patented Ladybug Luck could only do so much when a glock was pressed to her skin. Still…

She handed over the woman that she had caught hotwiring a car and dropped the photo evidence she’d collected on the nearest desk.

“You’re under arrest for murder,” said the officer behind her.

She hummed lightly to tell him she understood (Miranda Rights and all) and let him cuff her.

And then she’d let them throw her in the holding cell.

Really, her nonchalance should have been a red flag for them. If a person you’re arresting isn’t concerned about getting caught, then you should run. Shit’s gonna go down.

She had sent up an alert to her husband with her yoyo and taken a seat in the cell. There were other people there. A good amount had actually been brought in by her or Chat Noir. But none of them dared to come near her.

An hour in, every light in the police station had flickered.

Marinette grinned widely and pushed herself to her feet. “Sounds like my cue to leave. You guys should leave, too, I doubt he’ll be happy.”

“What do you --?”

The lights went out.

She pulled on her arms until she had managed to snap her cuffs. There was a tiny yelp from nearby at the sound of the chain breaking, she didn’t pay it any mind. She rubbed her irritated wrists and walked to the bars.

Marinette leaned towards where she knew the lock was. It really was unfortunate that she was going to probably be letting out the other criminals but, really, the police should have expected this. Besides, this was a lesson. They shouldn’t have tried to capture her, nor should they attempt it again in the future.

A person screamed and she glanced up.

In the doorway was a pair of glowing green eyes.

“Hey, Chaton, don’t kill them! We dunno if any of them are nice, but on the off chance that there is, like, one here we wouldn’t want to get rid of them…”

“Alright, M’lady!” He said. “But I’m still going to beat them up a bit.”

“Sounds good!” She chirped, straightening.

His eyes dimmed slowly until the room was completely dark once more.

She kicked the cell door open and couldn’t help but laugh at the wheeze of the nearby security guard getting flattened by the metal. Really, they should have expected that the door would come off. They deserved to get hit by it if they hadn’t moved.

She hummed lightly as she leaned over the security guard and she pulled the baton from his belt. She weighed it in her hands. Not as good as her cane but it would have to do.

She listened to Adrien working his way through the policemen towards her. He had the advantage. In the dark it would be stupid to use their guns, they’d be more likely to hit their comrades if they hit anyone at all. He could just take them down one by one with them swinging blindly at him.

Wait, no. Lights were flickering on. Handheld, just normal flashlights. It seemed that there were a few smart people. Not smart enough, though, because they had just announced their locations to the second person in the room that was out to get them.

She got to work as well. She carefully slipped around and started taking out everyone who had thought to get out a flashlight. They started flicking off quickly once the police came to realize that she was targeting them.

She felt a hand tap her shoulder and she whipped around, her baton swinging, only to have someone catch her arm.

Green eyes flickered with light in front of her and she relaxed.

“Chaton,” she greeted, her voice soft so no one could hear her.

He pressed a short kiss to her lips. “M’lady.”

She felt him scoop her up in his arms and clicked her tongue, but she still wrapped her arms around his neck. She buried her face in his shoulder as he ran through the precinct. Occasionally, she’d feel his body jerk as he kicked out at someone in their way, but otherwise it was a pretty smooth ride.

And then the precinct was quiet outside of panicked breathing and people groaning in pain.

The lights flickered back on a few minutes later.

They were gone.

~

They tried not to seem too interested when their personas were brought up.

They had a lot of practice in this, but they were more concerned about their images this time around. This was for many reasons, but the main ones were that they were now both using their own personality for their personas and that their new personas were less stereotypically heroic.

They had made sure to remain approachable. If they found someone walking home alone while on patrol they would hop down and offer to walk them the rest of the way. They smiled and waved and gave autographs and kissed babies...

But they were also killing people. Consistently. More often than not the people they were helping would be able to spot dark red stains on their suits or weapons.

So, when they had attended a function for the Gotham elites and he had heard their personas come up nearby, he couldn’t help but listen in a bit more.

Adrien tilted his head slightly towards the conversation as he sipped at his cranberry juice.

“... don’t you think Ladybug and Chat Noir are being a bit harsh?”

He winced internally. He didn’t know what he’d expected.

“I get wanting to clean up the city, but you can’t do that if the streets are full of blood.”

“Right? They’re killing people. What if those people ended up becoming better at some point? Now they never will…”

Adrien couldn’t bring himself to listen anymore, instead looking around aimlessly as he thought.

Of course the elite of Gotham would say that, they almost always benefited from the crime that occurred in the city.

Still, they had some points...

He spotted his wife a few tables away, uncomfortably bunching her dress in her hands as she talked with another woman, and pushed the thoughts from his mind.

He’d been doing that a lot recently…

Whatever.

Adrien made his way over slowly and stopped a short distance away. After all, the woman clearly didn’t mean any harm. Marinette had just been more… let’s call it ‘hesitant’ when it came to making new friends ever since Lila had taken all her old ones away.

“Wow, your dress is gorgeous! Did you really make it yourself?”

Marinette nodded slightly, biting her lip. “Yep... I have a company and everything…”

“A company at your age? That’s so cool!”

“Yep… I do commissions if you’d like one...” she said in a tone that very much said ‘please say no’.

“I’d love one, can I have your card?”

Marinette nodded and started digging through her purse. He saw her send a look at him out of the corner of her eyes, a ‘please help’, and he sighed to himself.

He downed his cranberry juice until there was just a few more drops of the red liquid left and then stumbled over to his wife. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, beaming.

She clicked her tongue lightly as if exasperated and looked at him. “Yes?”

“Want t’go ‘ome?” He slurred.

She gave the woman an apologetic look. “I really should get him home. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine,” said the stranger. They sighed. “I do hope I’ll be seeing you next year?”

“Maybe. I’ll see,” she said, then she hooked her arm around him. “Right, let’s get you home…”

They waited until she had half-carried him over a block away to break the act. They kept their arms around each other but he was no longer leaning on her.

She tightened her grip on him slightly. “Sorry you had to leave early.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. They sucked, anyways.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

They trailed off, lost in their thoughts as they walked through the streets of Gotham.

He was the one to break the silence: “M’lady?”

She hummed to tell him she was listening.

“What if…” He sighed. “What if the thing the wish changed was us? I mean, we’re killing people because of it. That would be the kind of irony you expect from things like this…”

She hesitated, the slight frown on her face unreadable.

And then she giggled.

“What do you mean that we’re killing people because Emilie is back? I’d still have been bored if we had been in the old timeline, so I at least would have still been doing this...”

“I doubt it. Because, in that timeline, you’d already failed one city.” He felt her flinch and sighed. “Sorry… but… I don’t think you would have been able to bring yourself to do this, risking another city and everything, if you hadn’t been able to get them back.”

She was quiet but he could feel the tenseness of her shoulders underneath him.

“And I wouldn’t have done this if I hadn’t felt like all our work in Paris was useless.”

She still said nothing, only taking out her keys and unlocking the door for them. They stepped inside and dropped onto the couch as a pair…

“And if Emilie hadn’t been brought back we wouldn’t have been as isolated.

He felt her curl into his side and snake her arm over his chest. He drew her in closer.

“This is the way it has to be,” she murmured.

Who was she trying to convince? Him? Or herself?

“Besides…” she added. “The system is broken. Fixing it will take a long time, but we can’t just let people get off in the meantime.”

He sighed and buried his face in her hair.

“You’re probably right, M’lady…”

“Always am, Chaton.”

~~~

I call this one ‘I only get two angst chapters I’m making the most of it goddamnit’

~

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@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats

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