#i once again revel in the ability to make my own little space as cold as i need to not feel absolutely fucking miserable all the time

[queenerdloser]

once again asserting that the simple air conditioner remains humanity's best invention and i am including literally all technology when i say that

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Fraturday everyone (oops, I'm late!) Back again with another round of the fic I've been reading this week. You can find previous rec lists here.

A reminder I'm here for all buddie/bucktommy/buddietommy configurations, and I'm always on the lookout for more henren fic to read, so please send author and story recs my way! (Feel free to self rec!!!)

15 June 2024

looking for shelter from the cold and the pain by @itsactuallycorrine is a post-7x10 summer fic, from Christopher's perspective. In which after communication is cut off and Chris is in Texas, both Eddie and Buck continue to send emails to keep in touch, and he reads them even if he doesn't respond. They get increasingly more confessional in tone. I really loved how Chris' understanding of them both as people and the revelations they share help him find peace, without glossing over the difficulties and pain caused. Hints of Buddie (and background Bucktommy break up) but mostly about realising parents make mistakes and growing up. A really lovely Chris voice. (Once you've read this one, go read this never would've happened in a catholic high school in which Chris comes home from an inclusive sex ed class with questions. Hilarious and sweet!)

your wings will find you heaven by elizabethgee a post-7x09 and 10 Buck vs Captain Gerrard fic (with Bucktommy) heed the tagged warnings on this one, it's dark and potentially triggering, but taken very seriously. Tommy is nervous when he hears that Gerrard is interim Captain. Buck thinks he can handle it. But things take a difficult turn, and Gerrard's ability to pinpoint and press on a perceived weak spot like caring for others means Buck's put in a horrible position. Cathartic and ultimately triumphant, I just want to give Buck a damn hug for being so brave.

like a bird stealing bread out from under your nose by @cal-daisies-and-briars 'If you’d asked Eddie back in May what rock bottom looked like, it was his son leaving him. That felt like it; everything ruined so entirely that there was no way to ruin it further. There’s always more to lose.' An Eddie Diaz breakdown fic, in which he self destructs and monumentally fucks up with Buck as well, but puts in the work to try and fix it. I particularly enjoyed the focus on Eddie reclaiming the joy in personal hobbies in this one, giving himself space and permission to be his own person.

odd man out by  @messyhairdiaz is an eddietommy focused buddietommy fic! Hooray! In which Eddie's self doubt makes him question whether it's all too good to be true and the triad relationship they've stumbled into is working for Tommy, so Buck convinces them both to go on a solo date. I really loved the communication and negotiation of this, and the lovely dynamic that they're working towards. Plus it's just delightfully flirty. Bless you poly fic, I'm smooching you on the mouth.

Got Your Six by @sonofatoasterwaffle oh god...oh my god. The buddietommy voyeurism BDSM fic. Literally the hottest version of Tommy? He plays them all like a symphony. 'After Buck has a bad experience with a dom, Eddie decides that if Buck wants to scene, he’ll do it with Eddie there to chaperone or not at all. Tommy decides he's cool with that if it means he gets to be the meat in their weird, codependent BDSM sandwich.' Just *chefs kiss* Eddie's down bad and Buck is the sweetest little sub in this, give him directions and show him off!

all the vices i can't give up by @theweewooshow is a smutty Bucktommy phone sexting fic, with an alternative getting together scenario (aka they're unapologetically horny about it.) Buck accidentally sends Tommy a picture of himself with water dripping down his chest, Tommy takes the bait. Things escalate! Lots of fun and very hot.

seeing you with him just don't feel right (you're giving me a heart attack) by @bellabrady based on THAT Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode - in which Buck and Eddie kill Captain Gerrard in the most hilarious way possible. The firefam banter in this is just absolute top notch. Glorious and so so funny. It's what he deserves.

Special Occasions by @pop-me Henren smut and feelings! 'After Buck comes out in S7E6, Hen and Karen reflect on their own first queer loves and intense, romantic sex ensues.' OP's tags promise romantic fisting and well howdy do they deliver! Love when Hen and Karen are celebrated as sexy as hell.

this is it ( the thing everyone's looking for) by diabolicaldean the latest in a collection of Henren one shots, this one is a sweet gentle fluffy piece that celebrate the Wilson family, with the soft place to land that Mara deserves. God I hope season 8 cuts them a break!!

a miserable pile of secrets by @glorious-spoon a post 7x09 fic, in which Buck and Eddie argue, and Hen lends Eddie and ear and gives some tough love. I really appreciated how much this lent into the messy thorny nature of fucking up and fixing things, and owning your mistakes. Hen's perspective is really well drawn.

Okay I'll stop here because it's getting long, but see you all next week!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

[johnkrrasinski]

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 4: hell was the journey but it brought me heaven (final)

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,943

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) dirty talk, oral (female receiving), fingering, shower sex, happy ending.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

You sat on the front porch as your fingers flipped through the page of the romance novel you had your nose in. It was a beautiful day, the weather wasn’t too hot or too cold, perfect to spend hours escaping into a story outside. Alpine purred on the chair where Bucky would sit if he was here but he wasn’t because he was on an overseas mission with Sam and though you offered to come with him, Tony said that it would be best if you sat this one out. You didn’t take it personally, however, it was hard to be separated from him for nearly a month.

Bucky said he’d be coming home soon and though the mission kept delaying them to come home, Bucky called and texted you every day to let you know that he was alright and how far on completing the mission had they gone. You were glad that Sam and Bucky had each other while you weren’t around to take care of him because you knew that Sam was the only person who could ground him other than you.

You and Bucky had been together for nearly five months now, after your recovery in Wakanda and adjusting to the new life of being superheroes, you both decided that you wanted to settle in a more remote place. All of the Avengers had their own places outside of the compound so you thought, why don’t you get yours? You talked about getting your own place in Brooklyn but eventually, you came to a decision where somewhere in the country would be better for both of your mental beings, while also still residing in the New York area so that you’d be ready in case there are emergency missions.

Since moving to the countryside, you had felt much more at peace and you had learned more about yourself than before. You were in the middle of the process of moving in when Bucky was needed by Tony to take care of an international matter with Sam, so Tony helped call in some people to help you with your stuff.

The place you had with Bucky was lovely, it wasn’t anything big or swanky, it was simply a rural rustic home that blends woods and stones as the foundation. It had a large loft where you placed your bed, and the roof had upper windows which shed lights into the entire room. It was even more stunning at night where you could see the stars and the moon that illuminated the dark space. From the veranda, you could enjoy the beautiful view of greenery and the lake surrounding you. It was heaven, but most importantly, it was your and Bucky’s little heaven.

You’d often feel lonely living in the cabin, so you decided to adopt a cat while Bucky was away. You didn’t tell him because you wanted it to be a surprise. You named her Alpine. You’d always wanted to have a pet and now that you had your own place, you could have one without worrying it would bother anyone.

You talked to Bucky this morning and he estimated that he’d be coming home in two days, which means he’d be home by his birthday. You couldn’t think of a more perfect gift than this adorable, blue-eyed cat. It was as if she got them from her dad whom she had yet to meet. You also wanted to make his birthday and celebrate his coming home more special so you put down the book and went to the grocery store in town that afternoon to shop for the ingredients to bake a cake.

You had learned a lot of new things after you moved here, and baking was quickly becoming your hobby, so you were excited to utilize that new skill to surprise the love of your life. You spent the next day in the kitchen so once Bucky walked through the front door, the cake would be ready to be served. You were giddy thinking about the look on his face and how proud you would feel to make him happy with something you made of your own.

You were lying on your couch with Alpine by your feet, reading the book that you didn’t get to finish yesterday when you heard your phone notifying you a text had been received.

I’m outside, babydoll.

You instantly got up from your couch and put your book on the table. Your first thought this morning was Bucky would back to your arms this afternoon and you were ecstatic. You had missed him terribly and you wanted to curl up in his embrace and never let him go. He was your anchor and you were his rock, you both needed each other to get through the days. How you managed to survive so long without him was beyond you.

You chose a nice outfit, nothing fancy just a simple sundress that you feel your best in, put on some makeup and did your hair. Though you didn’t have a clue on makeup products, let alone apply them all over your face, you did spend a handful of times watching Youtube for guidance. You knew you didn't have to put all that effort to keep Bucky in love with you but you wanted to do something nice for him. For the first time in forever, you were a free woman who was allowed to make her own choices, you were going to revel in exploring them.

You opened the door and there he was, as handsome as the devil, as gentle as an angel. Everything about him captivated you yet, he soothed every nervous system in your body too. He was grinning at you like he had just won a prize and you couldn’t help but throw yourself at him as soon as the door was fully opened. “Bucky!”

He hugged you back, holding you so tightly to his chest and he kissed you as a lover would until you needed air. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he swept the hair that was falling on your face, slightly hiding your beauty.

You smiled at his flattery, “I got a surprise for you…”

“A surprise?” He looked genuinely perplexed. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s your birthday, silly. And to celebrate you coming home, of course, because I missed you so badly.”

“Sweetheart, you don't need to get me anything, you’re all the blessing I need in my life.”

“And you are mine, but you deserve more. So, close your eyes.” You ordered him like you were an excited 10 years old ready to show off her science project to her parents. He did as he was told and you took his hand and led him to the kitchen where his cake was sitting perfectly. “Don’t open your eyes until I tell you!”

He chuckled, “okay.”

Bucky trusted you wholeheartedly so he didn’t worry he’d walk into a wall or slam his hips to the kitchen counter as he was being led down to where his cake was. “Okay, now open your eyes.” He did so and he saw you standing behind the tiny dining table, near the kitchen chanting Ta-Da! Presenting a chocolate birthday cake, in the shape of a heart in front of you.

You lit up the candles that were in the shape of 106 and you brought the cake closer to him, “happy birthday, my love.”

Bucky was grinning from ear to ear, he couldn’t contain the happiness swelling in his heart. While he was on his bike, driving from the compound to his cabin-like home, all he expected was a warm shower and being tangled between the sheets with you. Since he was turned into The Winter Soldier, he no longer cared about birthdays or his age. Time felt blurry and all that mattered was his purpose in his life which is to make amends to the wrongs he committed during his winter soldier days and the few people that he cared about.

But now you were in his life, you were going to make sure his birthdays are special and that every second you both spent together was precious. “I got another surprise for you…” You walked to the couch to carry Alpine and when Bucky saw her, his eyes lit up.

“You got us a cat?!” You handed her to Bucky gently like a newborn baby and Bucky cradled her to his chest, looking like an affectionate father.

“I did. I felt lonely while you were away so I thought I’d get a pet now that we’ve got our own place and I saw her at the shelter when I went to town and she looked so adorable, I just had to take her home, Buck,” you watched Bucky lovingly stroke the cat’s ear.

“I never had a pet before…”

“I know, and neither had I so I thought, the three of us would make a wonderful family.”

“Thank you, doll. This is… This is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for.”

“You’re welcome, love. By the way, her name’s Alpine.”

Bucky nodded, “suits her.”

“Now, as delicious as that cake looks, I really need to take a shower, would you mind joining me?” Bucky held out his hand for you.

“There’s nothing else I’d rather do,” Bucky took your hand and carried you in bridal style to your bathroom, which had rustic walls like the rest of the house and dark brown sink vanity with a mirror at the centre above.

Bucky put you down and you both began stripping out of your clothes. You helped Bucky with his once yours were on the hanger because you wanted to feel him, really feel him now. Once only his boxer remained, you slid the shower glass door and you pulled him, giggling like teenagers trying to sneak out in the middle of the night as he struggled to take off his boxer with the way you were pulling him.

You turned on the shower, just warm enough to soothe your nerves and help Bucky relax. Bucky cupped your face and you both began making out, the stream of water made it difficult to keep your eyes open but you always got so lost in his kisses that you could never keep your eyes open even if you wanted to. It felt like heaven to feel those lips again after a month of his absence.

Bucky lifted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He slammed you to the bathroom glass as he dominated your mouth, his tongue tangled with yours as his vibranium arm leaned against the glass. Bucky trailed kissed to the column of your neck and you threw your head back, giving him easier access. He bit the skin, marking you as his.

The water kept flowing down and you both forgot what you were there for in the first place. “Oh, missed you so fucking much, doll.”

“I missed you too,” you said as you panted.

“Those nude pictures you sent weren’t helping either. Each time I see you naked, it went straight to my cock. It was torture not to have you right away.” Bucky put you down and kissed your body, down to your stomach until he reached the part where you needed him most. Bucky lifted your right leg onto his shoulder and kissed the inside of your thigh as he left a love bite with his teeth there too.

You didn’t mind, you were his as much as he was yours and you loved it when he got a little rough or possessive, though you knew Bucky would never hurt you and if he did, you wouldn’t hesitate in telling him. But you loved to walk around with his marks on you, you wore them proudly.

Bucky dipped his head to your core, tasting your arousal like a famished man. He had been deprived of your taste for a month, he wasn’t going to hold back. He could spend hours in between your legs if you let him and he’d never get tired of it. Bucky licked a stripe of your slit, making you throw your head back again and moan.

He grabbed your arse to keep you standing, with the way he was devouring you, your thighs began to shake, and you would’ve crumbled to the floor if he wasn’t holding you. You tugged his hair, keeping his face close to your cunt. You couldn’t help but grind yourself onto his face and you could feel him smirking.

The way his stubble grazed your delicate skin was tantalizing, you’d tried to close your legs a few times around his head but he always held them back. You could feel your muscles tightening, but before you could burst, Bucky put your leg to the floor and he stood up, kissing you again and you could taste your arousal all over his tongue. It was erotic yet intimate at the same time.

Bucky grabbed your hips and spun you around, you could feel his stiff member nudging you from behind as you both fought for dominance with your tongues. Bucky took a fistful of your hair and lifted your head back, once again trailing open-mouthed kisses to your throat. His fingers made their way down to your clit, rubbing it in circles furiously as if you weren’t soaked enough already from the way his tongue ingurgitated you.

You whimpered at his touch, the way he always knew how to light up every cell in your body with his touch was a wonder. It was as if your body had given itself completely to him and it was going to comply with whatever his touch tells you to do. Like the way you willingly bared your soul to him, you didn’t fight it at all, let the love and passion you had for each other consume you.

“You’re dripping all over my hand, doll.”

“I need you to fuck me now, please.” You were losing your mind with the way he was stimulating you, you needed to have him inside you now.

“Anything for you, baby.”

Bucky used your wetness to lubricate his member, making it easier for him to slide in. You leaned against the glass with your hands against it as he gripped your hip with his flesh hand and your shoulder with his vibranium one. Bucky pushed himself until he was fully sheathed and he groaned, “oh fuck, I ain’t gonna last long. Missed this tight cunt so much.”

Bucky gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size, and once you told him to move, he began with slow paces. You threw your head back and leaned against his shoulder as he kept thrusting in and out of you at a faster speed. Bucky moved his vibranium arm to your hip and wrapped his flesh hand around your jaw, directing it to his face so he could kiss you deeply.

The sounds of your skin slapping were salacious. Bucky felt you clenched around him and the coil in your stomach tightened. His fingers that were gripping your waist once again furiously rubbed your clit, igniting the fire in your muscles. Your cries grew louder as his rhythm began to falter, and the dam in you broke, your squirts streamed down your thighs, clouding your brain with pleasure.

Bucky started to get messy as he chased his own orgasm. He followed you to the place of euphoria, releasing himself deep inside you, panting your walls with hot white gush. Bucky leaned his forehead against the glass as he breathed heavily with his heart thumping against his chest. His weight on your back was comforting so you stayed there for a while until you both began to come down from your highs.

Bucky pulled out of you and his orgasm ran down your thighs, following yours. You turned around to face him and kiss him again. “That was fucking amazing,” Bucky said as he cleaned you up.

“I should be the one doing that, I wasn’t the one who just came home from a one month mission,” you retorted as you watched him going down to scrub your thighs where your juices were sticking on your skin.

“Well, now that I’m here, let me take care of my girl, will ya?”

You only chuckled and eventually, you both helped rinsed each other off. Once the shower was done, Bucky dried you with a towel and carried you to your bed, which he had yet to sleep on since it got here.

Life was a funny thing. Sometimes it dragged you down to hell, making you question if you had ever committed such a heinous crime in your previous life that cost you such misery in your present. But then, slowly but surely, the journey that you had to endure, led you to your fate, for better or for worse.

You couldn’t change where you had been and what you had done, but you could choose how you were going to redeem yourself and how you were going to spend the remaining years of your life now. You didn’t know much about your future as an Avenger. Hell, you were barely an Avenger, to begin with, but eventually, when you were ready, you knew there’d be nothing too big to overcome because you had Bucky by your side to walk through the storm with.

You didn’t have the privilege to believe in mystical things such as lucky stars but you were going to thank whatever was out there for the invisible string that tied you to Bucky.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream @bluemoon-icecream-blog @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

[cloudywriter]

the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th 

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence) 

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones. 

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday. 

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement. 

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced. 

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence. 

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth. 

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen. 

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen. 

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station. 

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything. 

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette. 

Celaena stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was. 

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.” 

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth. 

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip. 

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.  

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her. 

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack. 

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral. 

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face. 

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world. 

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges. 

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again. 

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north. 

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside. 

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side. 

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack. 

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body. 

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space. 

+++ 

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old. 

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve. 

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night. 

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home. 

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled. 

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so. 

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated. 

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space. 

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside. 

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head. 

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her. 

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo

[forever-rogue]

Step into the Daylight - Part 12

Summary: Crafting, whispered declarations, and a newcomer lead to some interesting revelations.

A/N: Thank you guys for being so, so patient and still being excited for me to update. Taglists are open, and as always feedback is welcome! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: general s2 spoilers, and canon divergence (hehehe)

SERIES MASTERLIST

MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“So I’m going to make that,” you glanced at Cal’s glowing green lightsaber with a furtive point of your hand,  “from this?”

The small Kyber crystal felt pathetic and pointless in your hand as you looked between it and the lightsaber. It seemed like surely the one couldn’t truly come from the other. How was the dinky little crystal going to power up such an advanced weapon?

“Of course,” Cere offered you a kind smile and a warm hand on your back as she ushered you over to the workbench at the back of the Mantis, her ragtag crew’s ship, “all the materials and items you need to craft your own saber are right there. The most important of it all, the key, is the small crystal in your hands. Have faith in it - and yourself -  and you’ll be able to do it.”

“O-on my own?” your eyebrows shot up as she nodded, “how will I know what to do? I’m not dumb...but I don’t see how one equates to the other.”

“You will know,” she insisted, taking a step back and motioning for Cal to join her. Your eyes were wide with worry and concern as you were positive that this was a task you would never be able to complete. Maybe this was all a mad joke, and they were somehow testing you? But then again...surely they couldn’t be. Few things you’d learned about the Jedi and the Force made sense and this was definitely one of them. You were beginning to wonder if anything ever would make sense.

But your instinct, your gut or whatever it was, had gotten you this far. It had kept you, Din, and Grogu safe. Maybe there was something to it after all. Maybe now wasn’t the time to question it. 

“Alright,” you nodded in quiet agreement, “I’ll try my best.”

“We will see you when you’re ready,” with that she turned and left, with Cal close on her heels after he gave you a wave of goodbye. Nodding to yourself you decided that you might as well just try and see where it led you. 

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself as you put the crystal in the center of the bench, “let’s give this a go then.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was several frustrating hours before you emerged from the Mantis, dirt and oil on your face, but more importantly, a giant grin. You quickly found yourself surrounded by several pairs of curious, prying eyes. The most important of all were inky black and accompanied by a happy little coo.

"How did you fare, young one?" Cere asked you as you reached behind your back and slowly pulled out what looked like a black metallic tube, covered in intricate golden designs.

"You tell me," without a moment of hesitation or pause, you ignited the saber and displayed the brilliant, glowing golden beam of light. Before anyone could say anything you wielded it and displayed the other end, showing that you had crafted a dual ended saber, "ta da!"

"Golden," Cal mused as he came closer and studied the saber, impressed by your ability to create such an impressive thing on your first try, "I've only seen one other person with such a color…"

"Should I have chosen a-a different one?" your brows knitted in confusion as you disengage the saber and clipped it onto your belt loop, "is there a way to change it?"

"No," he shook his head in amusement, "the Kyber chooses us and the color. It's nothing on your part."

"Oh...well, I'll take it as a good thing then," you cast a look over at Din and Grogu who were both watching your every move intently. You felt your cheeks warm up under his gaze, but a smile still graced your features, "golden...what does it mean?"

"Balance," he answered simply, "the balance between light and dark."

"O-oh," you swallowed thickly as you realized just how much it meant it, "wow."

"Wow is right," Cere game over and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, "you've done well. The art of wielding it is another thing. But you will learn, over time. There is no right - or wrong - way to do it. You'll have to find out what feels right to you."

"Thank you," giving her a nod of reverence, an odd feeling washed over you. It was all done now - your journey of finding your crystal and your building of the saber. This is where you parted ways. It was a lonely idea, a scary one at that, but you knew you'd still have Din and Grogu. That was all you really needed - anything else world work out.

Like it always seemed to.

"I believe this is the parting of the ways," she sounded almost disappointed as you inhaled deeply. Although you hadn't known them long, you felt as though there was a deep bond between your small clan and their crew. Like yourself and Grogu, Cal and Cere, and in some ways Merrin, shared a special bond with you. They were probably some of the only people that knew exactly what you were going through; especially the push and pull between light and dark.

“Indeed,” you slowly made your way over to Din, who gave a small nod of acknowledgment as Grogu reached out for you. Gently taking him in your arms, you kissed the top of his fuzzy head before positioning him so he could see everything, just like he pleased, “where will you go?”

“Wherever we’re needed,” Cal seemed as cryptic as his mentor, but you knew that despite trusting you, it was best for their own interests to kept their whereabouts as secret as possible, “I have not doubt that there are plenty of others just like you and I that are out there, and they’re scared and need help. We’re just going to go around and keep finding them, and helping them. So that way they can hone their own powers, just like you.”

“I’m sure they will be more than thankful for your help,” you said as Grogu cooed in agreement, “just like we are. I hope our paths cross again one day, Cal Kestis.”

“As do I,” he held out his hand and you grabbed it, giving it a firm but gentle shake. The energy that flowed between the two of you was enough to prompt a small sound of surprise from your lips; the force really was a strange, but wonderful thing, “until next time.”

“Until next time,” you repeated as you stood back and rejoined Din. A hand went to your side as he led you close to him. And then you realized - “wait! Jele - what about you? Are you going to come with us?”

For the first time since your reappearance, you really noticed the older woman watching you curiously. She offered you a warm smile, much as the others had done before shaking her head lightly, “unfortunately, our time is over, and I’ve found a new calling. I’m going with them, hopefully to use the skills I have remaining for good use. Just like with you. There’s nothing left for me to teach you, young one. Everything else will come to you in time, you will be ready for when it does.”

“Thank you,” tears pricked at the back of your eyes as you nodded in understanding, “for everything.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” she insisted, “everything’s always been within you, everything plays out as it should. Sometimes it just needs a little push in the right direction.”

A playful little grin crossed her features as she glances at you and Din in turn. Your cheeks warmed up at the mere thought of kissing him the previous evening, of finally getting to see him, of the whispered declarations of love, and what it all meant. Clearing your throat, you gazed at your feet awkwardly to hide your warm face, “well, regardless. Thank you. For everything.”

“May the force be with you.”

“And with you.”

The three of you remained there for some time, watching as the others gathered their things and packed up the Mantis to leave. It was strange to watch them leave, it almost felt wrong; they were new friends, fast friends but it felt wrong to see them go so soon. Something told you this wasn’t the last you’d see of them. 

“We should go in,” Din finally said after some time, his voice cracking lightly from how long he had been silent. It wasn’t that he had been worried about you while you were crafting your blade like he had been when you were on your quest for the crystal, but he was...nervous. Din knew you were more than capable of handling yourself, but at the same time he couldn’t help but fret over your safety. He loved you, truly, fully, and completely - he knew that now. Since he’d had the privilege of knowing a life with you, he wasn’t sure he could handle one without you. 

Shivering in response, it was only mere moments before Din had whipped his cape off from his shoulders and placed it around your own. You turned to him with a thankful smile before shaking your head in amusement, “what about you, my love? Now you’re going to be cold.”

“Not terribly if we move inside and warm up the Crest,” he snorted in amusement before moving in the direction of the ship just behind the snowy horizon, “come on, let’s go before we freeze.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was warm inside, the forced air was blasting and making the whole ship more comfortable. It really was the only way to combat the freezing chill of Illum. You’d showered and changed into something more warm and comfortable, and once you’d returned to the small living space, you’d found that Din had tucked Gorgu back into his small hammock. You watched the small green little bean fondly for a moment before gently stroking his ears and the top of his head. 

“Hungry?” you stopped at the sound of the voice that reached your ears. It was familiar and known to you, yes, but there was a part of it that was still more or less unknown. Dropping your hand, you turned and found Din watching you, his brown eyes meeting yours, “I-I made some food.”

“Y-yes,” you nodded, swallowing the lump that had welled up in your throat before walking over to him. Din stood there for a moment as you studied him; but then silently, tentatively, you reached up and cradled his face in your hands. He practically keened into your touch as you traced over his features, before leaning closer to him, the tips of your noses lightly brushing, “is this okay?”

"Yes," his voice was gentle as his warm breath fanned across your face, somehow causing you to lean forward and gently brush your lips against his. Din's hands found purchase on your waist as you breathed him in and familiarized with this - the sheer, wonderful act of intimacy, "may I kiss you?"

"Please," you barely whispered the word before he closed the gap and gently pressed his lips against yours. His touch and taste were intoxicating, despite being so simple and pure. It wasn't much, a few mere seconds passed as you both tested the waters to see how it would go. Not that there was any lingering doubt in your mind that you loved him, but it was all still so new and threatened to send you into an overwhelmed headrush all at once.

There was something so saccharine and sacred about kissing him, about knowing he was yours and you were his, that was too much and not enough at once. Your eyes closed as you rested your forehead against his, lips pulling into a small smile.

"What are you thinking?" you asked softly when you found inquisitive brown eyes searching your face for...something.

"I like this," his cheeks flushed slightly as his fingers danced around your waist, "I've never done this before, let someone see me like this, but I just…"

"Feel like this is right?" you finished as he nodded softly, "I don't know what it is either, Din, but I feel it too. I like to think that...there's a reason you found me and saved me that day. I'm glad you did."

"Even though you tried to fight me off?"

"Even though I tried to fight you off!" you pulled back and laughed, that wonderful sound that made Din's insides flutter happily, "I thought for sure you were going to turn me in. I...couldn't trust you or anyone then."

"And now?"

"I trust you with my life," you promised, "you are my home. You and Grogu."

“I’ve never…” Din paused for a long moment before closing his eyes and gently stealing another kiss from you, lingering against your lips. You were so close, but not close enough; part of you wanted to swallow him whole and keep him as yours forever, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’ve never loved anyone. Not before…”

“Him?” your voice was soft as you pulled back and cast a fond glance at the sleeping child. Din followed your gaze before training it right back onto you, “I can understand that. I love him too. Have you never...loved another?”

“No,” he admitted, almost shy as he gnawed on his bottom lip, “I’ve had lovers, here and there, but nothing like this. Nothing to where…”

“No one has seen your face,” you concluded as he nodded. Running a hand through his curls, you scratched lightly at his scalp as he choked back a moan at the tender touch, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“Letting me love you,” pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, you couldn’t help but pull him close, “for letting me see you as you are.”

“You have always seen me,” he acknowledged, “just as I am.”

“As you have me,” you grinned at him, “I haven’t either...I’ve never loved anyone before.”

“Never?” he seemed surprised as you nodded at his surprised expression, “I thought...you’re...everything.”

“Not to most people,” you reminded him, “I never had the opportunity or the luxury to allow myself to relax or be...human. No one, not since I was just a small child, has ever loved me or cared so much about me before. Now I have a family, a real family. I must have done something right in some life to find you, Din.”

Unable to find the right words, Din’s hand found your face this time as he pulled you into him and just held you, watching you like you were the reason for every single glittering star in the sky, “Jeele told me that souls that are bound together will always find each other, no matter the time or distance or how hard it is. I’m glad ours found each other.”

“Din…”

“I love you,” he blurted out as you left a warm rush wash all over you. There was something about how he said - so sweet and gentle that left you breathless and in a dreamlike state. Part of you was convinced that none of this was real, surely you couldn’t be deserving of this much love or delicate intimacy. But the touch and feel of his skin on yours, the ecstasy of his kiss was enough to remind you that this was all real. He really did love you.

“I love you,” it was a promise, a tender declaration that set his soul at ease, knowing that you felt the same way about him. How, no matter how crazy or convoluted it seemed, your souls were bonded and had managed to find each other in this lifetime. Brushing your fingers over his patchy scruff, you grinned, but were quickly cut off from saying anything else by rapturous growl of your stomach, “oh.”

“I knew you were hungry,” he chuckled warmly, and Maker, you could easily get used to a lifetime of this, “come on, my little Jedi, the food’s almost ready.”

“Din-” you held onto his hand to stop him from walking away, “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it, Mesh’la?”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you tried your best not to butcher his language too much. Judging by the incredulous look on his face, he didn’t mind a bit, “I-I told you I had time to study a lot...my Mando’a is far from good, and you said it to me last night. I hope it’s not too horrible.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” he repeated back to you slowly, “you’ve got it down perfectly.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You’re thinking much too loudly,” you mouthed at him between bites of bread. Din’s eyebrow raised in amusement as he looked and waited for you to repeat yourself. Stuffing the bite down, you offered up a sheepish smile, “what’s on your mind, Din?”

“I was just thinking about...Tython,” he admitted, “I know we should go, we have to go, but I’m...I don’t know if I can part with him. Not yet.”

“You don’t…” you set your fork down and let out a heavy sigh. You knew, you both knew exactly what it meant. A part of you still held onto hope that it wouldn’t come to that. You didn't know a life without your small green bean anymore, and honestly, you weren’t sure if you could face a life without him, “nothing is set in stone, Din. Things could always...change. And if not...you will have fulfilled the duty you were tasked with.”

“It must be selfish of me to want to keep him,” he trained his gaze away from you, but you could see that his eyes were glistening with some tears, “he’s not just some thing. He’s….”

“Family,” you finished, “aliit.”

“Yes,” he agreed, gently resting his hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, “just like you.”

“Whatever happens, Din,” you whispered, “this won’t be the last time you see him. I promise you that. You are his father - nothing is going to change that. He knows that, and so do you.”

“What do you think will happen when we go?” he opened and closed his mouth a few times as he blinked back tears.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, “I don’t know if there is a way to know. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. I do promise you one thing though.”

“What’s that?” 

“I love you - and I will always love you,” you took his hand and brought it to your lips before pressing a kiss to his palm. “And so will he. I promise you that.”

“I love you both too,” he said after a few moments of peaceful silence, “we should get some rest...we’ll be on Tython soon enough anI want to make sure we’re rested and prepared for...anything.”

“Yes,” you concurred, “you’re right, of course. Come one then, my love, we’ll rest for now.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“So...this is it?” Din sounded skeptical as he looked around the rocky ruins, with Grogu clutched tightly in his arms. You couldn’t help but snort at him in amusement; Grogu seemed to be enjoying himself anyway, “is it...does this look Jedi to you?”

He gently set Grogu down and he toddled over to the small stone pillar in the middle of the ruins. The little one cooed excitedly as he looked between the two of you; Din, studious and bewildered as he looked around, and you, doubled over as you laughed and tried to catch your breath. 

“How does something look Jedi?” you finally choked out as you tried to stop your giggles, “it doesn’t have to look Jedi. It’s about the energy.”

“Okay...well, does it feel Jedi?” he was at your side, gently nudging your ribs as you laughed at him again, “you’re being cruel!”

“I’m sorry,” you were but it was still amusing nonetheless, “it’s just...the energies. Can you feel them? Can you feel the force?”

“I don’t feel anything,” he shrugged lightly, “should I be?”

“I think so...Cal was right. The energies here are very strong,” you closed your eyes for a moment as Din huffed, “it’s alright...Jeele says everyone’s in tune with the force to a certain extent, and that it can be strengthened through practice. I-I’ll teach you, my love. That way you can tell if something looks Jedi.”

“Very funny,” he sighed, his signature trademark sigh as you took his hand and pointed towards Grogu. He was surrounded by a small swarm of bright blue butterflies, giggling as he tried to chase after them, “I didn’t know it was possible to have so much love in your heart for someone else. But now I know...because of the two of you.”

“Come on,” you took his hand in yours, “let’s look around to see if we can find anything. Grogu - you stay here, we’ll be right back.”

You hesitated for a moment before deciding it was okay, and trailed alongside Din. It wasn’t a huge planet, but it was beautiful in its own way, with animals running around. No humans or other creatures seemed to inhabit the place. It was quiet here...peaceful even. 

“I like this,” you said to Din as you walked through a small field of wildflowers, “it’s quiet and calm and you can just...be. I wouldn’t mind living someplace like this one day.”

“Without any intelligent life nearby and completely cut off from everything else?” he teased as you groaned at him. 

"No, shiny dummy," you plopped down into the tall, soft grass. You let out a long sigh and put your hands behind your behind, closing your eyes, "somewhere nice and quiet and with just us. Peaceful. What do you think, Din? Ever thought about the future…?"

With me?

After a few beats of silence, you heard the grass next to you crunch softly before you felt his body lie next to yours. His hand reached out and sought yours; you wasted no time in shifting your arm and letting him take your hand. He laced your fingers together before resting them on his chest.

"Yes," he whispered quietly, "I've thought about it a lot."

"Oh."

"I never thought I would ever want to settle down and not...do what I do," he confessed as his thumb stroked the back of your hand, "I never thought there would be more than what I had. But then I found Grogu and...you. I came to realize that I did want more, I want more than what I had."

"A future…"

"With him and you," you were positive that you could hear him smile at his confession. This was easy and hard at the same time - neither of you had ever imagined there would be this, "I don't want this life, the constant fighting and fleeing anymore. I want...a home, a real home."

"Me too," it was a smitten, gentle declaration, "I still want to help people somehow too."

"We will," he promised, "we'll have it all, Mesh'la."

Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side and on top of him. A small grunt of surprise escaped his lips as his arms went to your waist and your hands went to his helmet.

"May I?" it was a gentle request, but his hands joined yours and the helmet was pushed up to expose his lips, and you wasted no time in kissing him.

You were loath to break away from him, but you were soon left breathless and flushed, about to say something when a loud, booming sound met your ears. The two of you broke away and looked to the ruins where you'd left Grogu. At the giant beam of bright blue light emitting from the center of it, you gasped loudly.

Scrambling to your feet, you held your hand out to help him up, before the two of you ran over to see what the commotion was.

"Kid!"

"Grogu!"

When you reached the ruins, you found nothing around except for Grogu sitting and meditating in the center.

"What's happening?" Din asked in confusion as you realized what was happening.

"Its okay," you put a hand on his arm, "he's reaching out. To see if any other Jedi are listening. There's nothing we can do...we just...wait."

"Okay," he sighed lightly as he let you take his hand and the two of you sat down. It was better than pacing around and worrying; at least this way you could keep an eye on him.

»»————-　♡　————-««

After a while, there was suddenly silence. And after the loud noise of the beam, it was almost deafening. Grogu waddled over to the two of you, smiling as he reached for Din. Ever the doting father, he easily scooped him up and clutched him to his chest.

"Did you do it, buddy?" he asked quietly as Grogu cooed happily. Reaching over and you stroked his ears, smiling at the small green bean.

"He called out for someone," you confirmed, "we just have to wait now."

"How long?"

"As long as it takes," you leaned back against him and the three of you heaved a collective sigh, "I guess we can relax."

Din nodded in agreement as you suddenly realized just how tired you were. Despite your best efforts, your eyes started to close and before you could fight it, you were dozing off. Din, however, was wide awake and kept his keen eyes open and sweeping the horizon as you and Grogu snoozed.

Even though he thought he was doing a thorough job, the Mandalorian missed one big thing. He almost jumped when a long, thin shadow loomed over him. In his panic, his hand went to the blaster at his side and he prepared to draw it.

"There's no need for that," it was a man's voice that reached his ears as Din looked up, "if I wanted to hurt you, you’d already be dead.”

"Who are you? Are you...the Jedi?"

"I’m Ezra. Ezra Bridger."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[hurricanery]

every other freckle

A/N: I got this prompt requesting something from Link’s POV and I struggggggled with that concept but here it is. Something very random and fluffy bc next week’s promo is scaring me and I wanted to write something cute to distract myself. This is also basically my love letter to season 15 amelink bc I miss them so very much. Hope you enjoy & as always feedback and prompts are welcome <3

_______

Sometimes she snores.

And it makes Link smile.

Like right now. She’s snoring, but just barely. It’s faint. And it’s rare.

She’s a quiet sleeper. Sometimes she sleeps so soundlessly, that Link almost finds himself questioning whether she’s actually breathing, eyes scanning for the rise and fall of her chest. Just to make sure.

This morning though, there’s no question about it. The light snore only ever occurs when she’s in a deep sleep. And this is one of those occurrences.

It’s a Sunday morning. Which means they don’t have anywhere to be. But Link is wide awake anyway. Amelia faces him, curled into herself slightly, her faint snores fluttering against the stray pieces of dark hair that rest over her cheek. She sleeps on her side, and Link mirrors her position. She has her free arm draped between them, the arm that’s not currently trapped underneath her. And her hand loosely grasps his t-shirt, even in sleep.

This is when Link is most content, he thinks. On Sunday mornings. When they have no obligations other than to be exactly where they are. Sometimes he thinks he wants to live in Sunday mornings forever.

Amelia sighs. And her hand twitches slightly against him. But she doesn’t wake. Link's smile widens, and he reaches his own hand forward to begin gently tracing a pattern over her bare arm. She has a freckle on her shoulder, just to the right of her tank top strap, and another freckle on the outside of her wrist. Link traces a route, lightly with his finger, from one freckle all the way down to the other. Up and down. Back and forth.

Amelia shivers and Link halts his finger. Her eyes don’t open, but the absence of her snores is his first indication.

“What are you doing?” she mumbles, voice hoarse.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Her eyes blink open, adjusting to his stare.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

Link ignores her question. A question she likely already knows the answer to. He resumes his finger’s pattern against her arm, and a moment later, he speaks again.

“You have a lot of freckles.”

Amelia frowns.

“I do not.”

“Why do you say that so defensively?” He chuckles, and his finger continues it’s zig zag from one mark on her arm, onto the next.

It causes her to shiver again and Link grins, shifting his eyes to hers.

“Cold?” He sounds smug.

“No,” and she sounds pointed. “You know that tickles.”

He stops his movement, fingers coming to rest against her wrist. Her eyes slip shut again and Link watches her face.

Another of his favorite things about Sunday mornings, when they have nowhere to be, is that they get to experience the morning sun from bed. The way it shines through the translucent material of the curtains and gives the room a warm glow. It highlights their bare faces and makes everything feel revitalizing.  

“You have freckles on your face, too.”

“Shh,” she mutters, frowning as she buries the side of her face deeper into her pillow. “I’m trying to go back to sleep.”

Link exhales on a smile, but nods to himself. He relaxes into his own pillow, too. In an attempt to incite a little more sleep.

Moments later, he feels cold feet press between his shins, attempting to bury their way into his warmth. His eyes jolt open. It’s a common occurrence, something Amelia’s made a habit of. But every time she does it, it still gives him that initial shock. He looks at her, and her eyes are still closed, like she’s on the brink of sleep again. And it makes Link want to laugh, her ability to always be touching him in some capacity, especially so absentmindedly. It makes him think about how far they’ve come.

It had started physically for them. Their entire relationship. It was based on physical touch. It had very recently grown into something more, but it had surely started that way.

‘Alternative pain relief,’ Amelia had called it.

Link lays in bed now, feeling her feet tangle with his, and he thinks all the way back to the beginning. How they even got here, to this particular Sunday morning.

It had been a false start. The first time they really spoke. An ill-advised proposal for a dinner date had unfortunately led to some animosity on her part.

“Are you asking me out?” she’d question his intentions incredulously.

“I heard you like Italian food…”

Her face fell. And Link recoiled.

A false start.

And then the next time they interacted, it was the same but different. An almost change of heart.

But horrible timing.

A mass overdose in the park had led to an overcrowded ER, and major stress on everyone involved.

He remembers the way her face had twisted at the news. One second, they’d been discussing escape hatches and trips to Barbados. And then the next, they’d been discussing the outcome of a teenage boy that Link couldn’t successfully revive.

But it wasn’t just any teenage boy.

“I knew him.” Amelia’s expression had haunted him in the moment, and it still haunts him now. “That kid...he was….”

He’d stepped forward.

“He was a good kid. He wasn’t a bad kid.” She shook her head, battling with the idea that the argument even had to be made.

And Link had nodded slowly.

“I’m gonna have to call his parents.”

“I could take care of that.” He’d offered. Desperate for anything to combat the distress that invaded her face and voice.

“No. No I’m-” She’d cut herself off, and Link felt panic rise in his chest. He barely knew her. But he’d felt strangely protective of her. He’d battled with the decision of how to help her.

“Thank you.”

She’d turned away from him, but Link had caught a glimpse of it. Her expression as she fought off a full-body sob.

“I’m so sorry.” And it had been evident in her voice too.

“It’s okay.” It’s all he could come up with, as he stepped around her, towards her. In a protective way. Like he’d been trying to cover her from the people that surrounded them in the hallway.

“I’m sorry.”

He’d felt so inclined to comfort her. To reach a hand up and rest it against her back as she keeled over on top of the cot in the hallway.

She’d let out a broken sob. And it’s still one of the most devastating sounds Link can ever recall hearing.

And he wholeheartedly regrets the way his hand had dropped to his side, and not gently against her back, like he’d intended.

Because he’d battled with it. Hesitated. Stuck on the predicament of how to comfort her.

He regrets it currently. As he lays in bed and watches her sleep. And he can’t help but reach forward and touch her now. Like he’s overcompensating for the way he’d reacted then. Because he was so close in the moment, to acting on his instinct. But it just wasn’t enough.

So he does it now. His fingers find their way back to her arm, in a similar pattern to before, and the action reminds him of New York. Again of the early stages.

It started as purely physical. Just sex. No sleepovers. And that’s the way Amelia had labeled it.

But, in a hotel room in New York, Link had done it almost absentmindedly.

He’d run his fingers up and down her arm in an intimate way. He’d never done it before, but it felt right. And he swore he saw a wave of emotions cross Amelia’s face at his actions. Like she’d actually quite liked the feeling. Or maybe she was scared to like the feeling. And so she’d climbed out of his bed, removed herself completely from that revelation.

Link chuckles to himself at the memory, as he re-creates that same motion against her arm. Because now they're in her bed. And it is intimate. Yet there’s no revelation on Amelia’s part, because the light touch is such habit by now.

“Why are you laughing?”

Link startles at the sound of her voice, once again surprised to learn that she’s awake.  

“I’m just thinking about you.” He answers honestly.

She groans. Because she’s not a conversationalist in the morning. And especially not a romanticist.

“Well, you’re thinking really loud,” she huffs out a sigh, turning over in bed.

“I’m sorry,” he stifles a laugh, reaching forward to tap his finger against her shoulder blade. “I’ll be quiet now.”

When she turns back over to face him, she’s grinning.

“Can we just….stay in bed all day?” She whispers.

“Of course,” Link mirrors her grin. “I already thought that was the plan.”

She looks him up and down, in the same way she always does when she’s deciding her next move. Deciding how she’s going to eliminate the space between them.

Link knows the face, and in response he opens his arms to her. She bites down on a smile as she shifts forward, burying her face in his chest and sighing in content. He wraps his arms around her and gives a gentle squeeze as they settle into the position.

And they both quickly drift towards sleep again.

_______

When Link eventually blinks awake, he has no idea how much time has passed. He registers one thing, though, as his eyes adjust.

And that’s Amelia’s stare.

She faces him, eyes wide like she’s just been caught.

Link clears his throat.

“Are you the one watching me sleep, now?”

“Maybe.”

Link laughs a bit, under his breath. Still slowly waking up.

“Have I ever made you my waffle recipe?” Amelia sounds eager, her tone far more awake and alert than Link feels. He thinks he has some catching up to do.

“I don’t think you have.”

She rolls over, swinging her legs over the bed and setting her feet on the floor.

“Amelia?”

She stands, tossing a robe on as she moves towards the door.

“Stay here,” she says simply.

“Where are you going?”

She pauses, looking once more in his direction before leaving the room.

“Just stay here,” she grins hugely. “We’ll eat in bed.”

A warmth fills Link’s chest, one that matches the morning glow of the room. He rolls onto his back with a gratified exhale, as his thoughts from earlier echo into his mind.

He thinks he wants to live in Sunday mornings forever.

//

[rouiyan]

𝘔𝘠 𝘗𝘜𝘊𝘒 𝘐𝘕 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘈𝘓 [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

⧏ hyuck’s installment of the keep your cool collective ⧐

synopsis: you’ve decided that the boy in ‘66’ is yours.

✧ ice hockey player!hyuck x (fem.) reader x ice hockey player!jeno + best friend!renjun

✧ genres : fluff, minor angst ✧ word count : 2.3k ✧ disclaimer : swearing

✧ author’s note — finally my brain had the gall to pull through with this idea but i'm left with the realization that all my hyuck fics are just him simping for u.

hyuck internally sighs, his head ringing and ankles sore, as the buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the third round. he’s almost elated, even though he’s sure his team hasn’t won, by just the fact that the game is over. hyuck is by no means sick of ice hockey but lately, the mere idea of it drives him into exhaustion. as he turns to expect the disappointed stare of his coach, he’s surprised when he’s met with a halfhearted smirk. weird, the coach should know more than anyone how lazily this game had played out. but then, as an afterthought, he checks the scoreboard and realizes with an oh shit, that they were tied with the opposing team, somehow.

his line of vision is parting from the board when he makes unfortunate eye contact with the person entering the rink. your hair is pulled back with a pale pink scrunchie and your outfit is a certified mess of oversized hoodie and sweat shorts upon white sneakers. he can quite literally feel the heat that is quick to rush to his cheeks, unfailing to hide his flustered state. he knows he looks stupid but he still can't help but stare and ogle at new and blatant eye candy as she crosses the threshold into the cold space. half your figure is  now covered by the wall that separates the stands with the rink though it doesn't matter because he's still equally enamoured by simply your presence. 

"hyuck, why you staring at y/n?"

hyuck can only wince inwardly as he stutters out, "that's- that's y/n?" it seems unfair that renjun's been hoarding such a pretty specimen to himself. "like your best friend, y/n?"

"yeah, what about her?"

"br-bro, you never mentioned that she was pretty."

"hey, don't even think about it. you're the last possible person i'd set her up with. plus, she's with jeno, they went on a date after practice last time, remember?"

there's an underlying disappointment in donghyuck's tone when he's only able to produce a soft, "oh," because frankly he doesn't know why he's so worked up over someone who he's never even met and that's also dating one of his close teammates. amidst his confused trance, he almost fails to notice his coach call for a pre-game huddle.

he ends up tuning out most of it, now distracted by how jeno keeps glancing back at you and making funny faces, you returning them with the! cutest! little expressions he has ever had the pleasure to lay his eyes upon. the rest of the game is played out with enthusiasm on his part, even going so far as scoring in two more points. he's quick to doubt the truth but donghyuck knows that it's whoever that girl is in the front seats that's making him outdo himself.

the game ends and his team wins, claps and cheers at how the game had turned around in their favor, but donghyuck reverts into a sulky demeanor as soon as he's off the rink and into the locker rooms. he notices jeno, being quick and almost feisty with the other boys that are taking too long for his liking in hogging the showers. donghyuck assumes it has something to do with the (gorgeous, wtf) girl that's waiting on him for a date. hardly fair, he thinks, if only he'd met you earlier by chance, he knows he'd definitely have the ability to charm you out of your wits. after all, he's smart, his face is undeniably agreeable, his sense of humor is top notch, and well, what's not to like?

instead of getting closer to you as he so hoped he would, he ends up becoming more familiar with the routine disappointment, and yet delight, at seeing you show up after practices, games, and eventually, team gatherings outside the rink. he's okay with it, he thinks. but it becomes frequent, even, that you show up out of the blue, with the invitation from jeno, and he's starting to lose his cool when it comes to the simplest of interactions. being included in a conversation with you was no problem, as long as he wasn't talking. eye contact? bearable, but not for more than half a second. and the utmost unfortunate luck for the boy if you ever asked him to pass you a fork, or a spoon, or a goddamned napkin. 

he's not so sure anymore, one sullen night, that he could ever make you his, even if he was gifted the chance. when you're not by jeno's side, you're by renjun's, and if that isn't telling enough about how uncomfy you feel around everyone else, he wouldn't know any better. but even laying within the deepest, darkest parts of night, the screen on his phone displaying your more recent instagram post of you on jeno's back, a sun setting beach painted behind the two of you, he finds his heart yearning to know more about you. he knows you're not one to reach out, to make friends unless in a situation that calls for it, so he supposes now is as good as a time as any to shoot his shot, at being friends.

he braves himself for this hefty task. his breaths are ragged and his heart is already hammering a deep crater inside his chest at just the thought of following through with his plan. his fingers are shaking and his pupils are twitting at about the same pace and it appears that none of his bodily functions seem to be within his control anymore. but before he can press the button, his door is thunked wide open with a hard force, the handle even going so far as to lodge itself neatly into the wall that's now been broken through. donghyuck's mouth is hanging ajar but he's barely surprised to see that the culprit of such heinous and costly action is jeno. lee jeno. 

donghyuck makes swift and subtle actions to shove his phone underneath his pillow but when he takes a good look at the boy's face, he realizes that he didn't need to be so discrete in the first place. jeno's eyes are swollen, and not in the way that suggests he got into a big manly manly fight and came out the victor, but in the way that looks as if his three cats died, all at once, and he'd taken it upon himself to cry for each of their mothers respectively. 

the same eyes rove about the room before settling on the bed, his body following suit but moving as if it were part of another entity entirely. the mattress sinks down low with his body weight and he repositions himself so that he's laying down comfortably, his legs still hung over and down the side. donghyuck can hear jeno's ragged breaths, not unlike his own a minute ago, and he wonders what hell of a day the boy had had to render him into this state of numbed consciousness. but before he can even form the question that sits at the edge of his mind, jeno's voice reverberates lowly in the silence of the room.

"she broke up with me," donghyuck blinks purposefully, "something 'bout how she thinks she might like someone else, fucking bastard."

"is she the bastard?" donghyuck tries to disassociate his feelings from his words and come across as...helpful in lifting his friend's mood.

jeno chuckles, "no, hyuck, she's not the bastard. bastard's the guy who has her heart. i'm glad she told me though, she's never been one to hide things."

"yeah, would've been worse if she dragged it on, huh."

"yeah, a lot worse."

donghyuck's voice almost gets caught within the confines of his rationality, "did she tell you who he- the bastard is?" he sighs inwardly, knowing that this was none of his business whatsoever, but the desire to know seeps into his thoughts. 

jeno sighs as well, "no, not really. she said it was some boy on the team though, might even be you now that i think about it."

"oh," is, yet again, the only thing he is able to produce. 

the new revelations seem to give life to donghyuck. the mere idea that there's a possibility of interest in his direction is something that he thrives off of. mundane tasks like washing the dishes are now enjoyable hobbies, no actual brain work, head empty, thoughts of you exclusively. when it comes to practice, you're no longer there, your presence reduced to hushed talk between the boys and renjun, asking him if you really are the reason jeno's been so out of it, letting easy pucks into the goal left and right. hyuck is relieved, though, that he gets a break, a step back to rethink his crazed emotions. maybe it really was just simple infatuation. maybe it was just because he hadn't gotten laid in awhile. or even just the fact that he's been hanging out with the boys too much and that the first girl he set his eyes on in days ultimately became the protagonist to his daydreams. hell, he is especially glad that you decided it wasn't worth showing your face at the rink for the time being for jeno would've been downright devastated.

that whole paragraph of feelings is bluntly disregarded and thrown off track as he enters the corner cafe a few blocks down from his house and is met with you waving your hand excitedly at him and motioning for him to sit with you. he doesn't hesitate, of course, but makes sure he takes slow and deliberate steps to the window booth you're sitting at just to make sure he at least gets in four deep breaths before he is inevitably subjected to not breathing in your presence.

"hyuck, it's been awhile, i hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable or anything," your face morphs into an expression of realization as it hits you that calling him over was entirely to satisfy your own hopes and dreams. the boy sitting across from you, smiling lightly, might as well be feigning a pleasant disposition, grossed out by the girl that dumped his friend just because she thought she was interested in someone else. by the end of this thought, your voice is reduced to a timid pitch, "you can leave if you want, it's all good."

"actually, i think that it'd be more uncomfortable for you if i left." he feels his heart constrict at the sight and the knowledge that his words enlightened your composure. you take it upon yourself to start some light conversation, not wanting to disclose the reason you'd called him over in the first place just yet. your heart picks up pace, rivaling hyuck's own, and you can't help but think of the sheer likeliness of the luck you'd just encountered. just as you decided to brave up for once and not take advantage of your best friend setting you up on one too many blind dates that were just, too artificial for you, the boy whom you had taken a liking for had shown up before your eyes, breezing through those glass doors as if it were a sign for you to just take charge. 

"and i was telling him-"

"are you free friday?"

"what? oh, what?!"

"i'm asking if you're free friday."

"i- i mean yeah, i have practice at three, but i'm free afterwards."

"let's grab dinner together then."

"oh shoot, okay, like with the boys? 'cause i could ask them if they're down."

"no, i was hoping it could be just us. like a date."

"so, hold the fuck up, you're asking me out on a date?"

"yeah, why…? am i not allowed to do that? is going out on a date with me gonna break bro code or something?"

"n- no, nothing like that. it's just...you can't possibly be serious."

"oh, trust me, i'm dead serious."

"...holy shit, i'm in."

donghyuck fucks up big time at practice, his cheeks are way too hot and he's sweating gallons per second. his jaw is clenching and unclenching in hopes that the action might make him a little more attentive while on ice but instead, he finds his eyes roving over to your figure in the stands far more often than he'd like to admit. he thinks, no he hopes, that jeno is okay with the fact that you're not here for him but rather the 'boy on the team' he'd unknowingly referred to a few months back. hyuck knows, though, that renjun is definitely not okay with it, the aforementioned boy throwing just as many glares at hyuck as hyuck's many glances towards you.

practice is over long after he hoped it would be but you're patient and supportive nonetheless. his eyes crinkle and his smile widens as you sidle into him for warmth in the cool air of the ice rink. hyuck solves this by removing the hoodie from his own, accustomed body, and gently tugs it over your shivering one. he thinks he handles the wave of adoration that consumes him pretty well, even able to ease the corners of his lips down a tad bit. "you're cute," you pull at his cheeks and suddenly things are not so easy to handle. 

donghyuck does eventually get used to all the sneaky shit you pull just to get his ears red and shy smile blossoming, but he knows he'll never get used to the sight of you in the stands, adorning his spare 66 jersey with everything else fading, and fading further away until it's just you and him, and him and you.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — i hope you find someone that holds you in such high esteem as hyuck does in this fic, i'm sure you deserve it <3

[jaskiersvalley]

🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 (for you're such a lovely person who shares so many beautiful fics with us and is always up for talking. ily

I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on this ask because I just love seeing you in my inbox. But, like with everything, I need to stop hoarding and write a little thank you <3

Something wasn’t quite squaring up with Nilfgaard’s army. It spread at an alarming rate, much faster than a regular army could. Whatever sorcery the mages and sorceresses have concocted, it was terrifying. Such an army shouldn’t have been able to sustain itself, it needed food, water, resources to travel. Yet, despite all this, the army seemed to move silently, without the usual almost locust like destruction and draining of everything in their path. Nobody seemed to be able to pinpoint where the army was when it wasn’t fighting, only small scouting groups. People learned to be wary of those groups too. Wherever they went, the army was never seemingly far behind, backing them up at a moment’s notice. It was a mystery that was yet to be solved.

Finding a Nilfgaardian on the run was quite unusual. Eskel didn’t think it was something he’d live to see. They were usually so cocksure, travelling in their little groups. He had learned to spot them, even if they weren’t trying to make a scene. One leader, with five protectors. Those five tended to be on full alert and guarding their leader which was a bit odd, but then again, Nilfgaard as a whole was a bit peculiar.

The man Eskel spotted was obviously from the South, he heard him order, the accent harsh yet lilting at the same time. Watching him find the darkest corner - the one Eskel had wanted for himself - curiosity was winning out. Only a desperate man would share a space with a Witcher and this man, though he shrank away, steadfastly refused to move from the shadows of the corner.

“Got separated from your group?” Eskel liked to make small talk if he could. Especially when it helped solve a curiosity like the man opposite him.

“Something like that.”

Evasive, huddled and not looking Eskel in the eyes. The plot thickened. “So you ran away.” While the man didn’t seemingly react, Eskel could hear his heartrate pick up. “Why?”

Silence stretched. The man finished his food in a great hurry and was up, evidently not wanting any kind of company. Oddly, Eskel didn’t think it had anything to do with him being a Witcher.

The next morning the man was nowhere to be seen. But Eskel caught his scent and, with nothing better to do, he set off at a leisurely pace in the same direction. If they bumped into each other he could always claim it was a funny twist of Fate. He shouldn’t have joked about it, not even in his own head because, not a few miles out of the village, he found the evidence of a scuffle. The whole stretch of road had a tang of death to it which he couldn’t place. However, he soon forgot about it because he could smell blood and hear the pained, laboured breaths of someone. Rounding the small clump of bushes, Eskel tutted. “Run into trouble?”

“No.”

The blatant lie drew a laugh from Eskel. He had to admit, he was intrigued. Grabbing his pack, he approached the man, showing him his hands in an attempt to reassure that he meant no harm. In fact, he was offering a helping hand.

“Did they get what they wanted?” The question tripped from Eskel’s lips as he lifted the man’s gambeson away to reveal a cut to his side. It wasn’t deep but it was in the crease of soft flesh that tended to sting like a bitch, Eskel knew that from experience. His only reply was a shake of the head. “Good. You sent them packing by the looks of it. I’m impressed. My name’s Eskel by the way.”

Still no reply and the man tipped his head back, staring at the sky with gritted teeth while Eskel saw to his wound.

“Well, you’re in no state to travel alone. You headed anywhere in particular?” Another head shake but this time the man watched him with guarded eyes. “Okay. Why don’t we travel together for a bit. I can help keep you safe.”

“I can’t pay you for your services.” Clipped words that sounded tired. "And you probably shouldn't be around me."

It was cute, how the man seemed so determined to drive Eskel away without being cruel. Most refreshing. "I don't need your payment. As I'm not headed anywhere in particular, I figured we could both use a bit of company."

That settled the matter and, for three days they travelled in companionable silence, sticking to villages and heading north. It was only in a larger village that Eskel learned the man's name and not because they were getting more friendly either. The poster bore quite a good likeness to Cahir.

"So-" Eskel said as they camped outside the village, "-want to tell me why Nilfgaard thinks you're dangerous enough to not be approached but your sighting should be reported swiftly and discreetly?"

Cahir let out a world weary sigh, shoulders drooping. "I control a large portion of their army. They want me back for that."

Which was interesting. In Eskel's experience no general tended to command such loyalty. He was also a sucker for those in need. Plus, the chance to fuck Nilfgaard over was quite glorious. He smirked. "Want to come to Kaer Morhen to hide out for the winter?"

It was a bit of a trek north still but Cahir began to relax around Eskel. They shared their first kiss at the foot of the trail up to Kaer Morhen. A few more were traded along the way but, for the most part, they huddled for warmth, cuddled up for the cold nights.

Slowly the keep filled up with its regular winter visitors, all of them somewhat hesitant to greet Cahir until Eskel intervened with a pointed glare from behind him. Everyone settled in, Geralt turned up with Jaskier, Lambert and Aiden did their usual thing, even Coen managed to slip through the gates before the snow hit. Soon, they were all enjoying the roaring fires, drink and songs. Despite his army background, Cahir turned down all invitations to train and share knowledge. It didn't make him very popular but his cooking helped ease any grumblings.

It was all going well until a portal opened up and Yennefer stepped through. midway through greeting everyone she froze and turned to the door as Cahir stepped in.

"What are you?" she hissed, hand curling to cradle an unleashed spell.

"Nilfgaard's finest deserter."

That didn't seem to help ease Yennefer and she looked over Cahir with a critical eye. "I can see Fringilla's work in there with several others'. You volunteer for this?"

"Only as much as someone volunteers to be a Witcher."

"Just what is going on?" Vesemir rumbled. He had a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to jump in. That had Cahir taking a step back, a pained expression.

"I wouldn't advise you hurt me. You have an awful lot of dead buried here."

The growl from Vesemir wasn't reassuring. "Don't threaten me in my own home, boy."

"Vesemir!" The warning came from Yennefer of all people. "Don't."

Something was crackling in their air, Eskel could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was magic but not any kind he had felt before. Even worse, he could trace the source back to Cahir whose eyes were turning black slowly.

"I'm going to go outside. Please nobody follow." Stiffly, Cahir turned and marched out of the keep, into the snow covered woods. Silence reigned in his wake.

"The fuck?" Lambert spat, looking angry in his bewilderment.

As one, they all turned to Yennefer for an explanation. None of them had felt even a hint of magic from Cahir until that moment.

"That-" Yennefer pointed to where Cahir had been, "-is an unnatural necromancer. No innate ability but, with the right stimuli, can raise the dead between here and the bottom of the mountain."

The silence stretched until Jaskier cursed. "Now we know how Nilfgaard's army is sustained."

As big as the revelation was, Eskel had a bigger concern. That was his boyfriend who had just walked out, looking ready to be consumed by his unnatural powers. Stepping out of the keep, Eskel had to whistle. The whole area between the keep and the woods was covered in flowers, a carpet of green dotted with blossoms of colour. In the middle of it all was Cahir, kneeling, eyes closed and head tipped towards his chest. His breathing was forcedly even and deep.

"Go away," Cahir gritted out.

"It's just me."

Looking up, Cahir's eyes were black and bottomless, his breath hitched as a tear trickled down his cheek. "I didn't mean to. I promise. They're everywhere."

Eskel could hear the footsteps, shuffling and shambling. Not all of them human, one alarmingly large.

"Old Speartip," Eskel growled. From the forest around them an army of the undead approached. All the bodies they didn't have the means to burn after the sacking, Old Speartip from his cave, forktails they'd left dotted around the mountain, they were all approaching Kaer Morhen. Along with them came the smell Eskel had scented on the road where bandits had accosted Cahir, now he knew what happened back then.

Cahir let out a shuddering breath, hands curled into a fist. "Threats of violence and pain make them come."

"And when you feel safe, do they go away?"

A miserable nod was his answer and Eskel dropped to his knees. He gathered Cahir against his chest and kissed his softly, demanding all his boyfriend's focus to be on him. The noise of the undead around them stopped, under his knees Eskel could feel the grass wilting back to its winter state. Pulling away, he was pleased to see the blue of Cahir's eyes.

"I'll always keep you safe," he rumbled. A darker thought crossed his mind. "The groups of six scouts for Nilfgaard, they weren't scouts at all, were they?"

From the doorway, Eskel could hear the others shuffling around and peering out at them. But his attention was on Cahir and Cahir alone.

"A necromancer and their guards who're also their tormentors." Cahir sniffled. "There's a reason I've not joined you in the waterfalls. To raise an army, they did unspeakable things."

Eskel pulled Cahir tightly to his chest, wishing he could make everything better. Alas, there wasn't much to be done other than what he'd already been doing; supporting and loving to the best of his abilities.

"We now know better," he tried to reassure. "How would you feel if, in the spring, we continued to travel together? We can take any road you feel comfortable on."

Looking up at Eskel with wide, wet eyes, Cahir licked his lips. "I can't pay you for your services," he said, repeating his words from all those months ago. "But how would you feel about fucking Nilfgaard over? We could rescue a few more necromancers."

It was a daring plan but one that Eskel was intrigued by. So were the others when, over dinner, Cahir haltingly told them everything. The Path was unpredictable at the best of times, the coming year it was going to get even more convoluted.

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part IV

A Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any oneshot ideas or opinions on how this should continue!

In their bedroom that night, Jens had a whole roll of parchment full of ideas. Robbe fell asleep first on the common room couch after Hufflepuff’s party, and meandered to his room at three AM to find Jens awaiting him on the windowsill. Aaron, conked out, had pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut and cast a few silencing charms for privacy.

“Muffliato,” Robbe cast under his breath, just in case. Aaron wasn’t the greatest at Charms.

“I was supposed to patrol tonight,” Robbe told Jens. “Did Jana go alone?”

Jens nodded. “She said you would’ve lost her anyway, whatever that means.”

“You’re talking again?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Okay, here, look at this…” Jens smacked down his parchment on the little floor space they had in their bedroom. Each little segment of dormitory housed four boys with their beds in a circle around the heater in the middle. While Jens, Robbe, and Aaron didn’t have a fourth shoved in with them, the fourth bed’s curtains were also closed. Robbe assumed it was Moyo staying over after the party. Their copious belongings covered most available surfaces: books piled up next to bedspreads, clothing strewn over trunks, candy wrappers overflowing from trash bins.

“I think you have to dial it up,” Jens explained. He flattened the parchment until Robbe could kind of read his sloping cursive. The title at the top of the page was scribbled out, replaced with the words Operation Ditch-Noor. “Noor seems more persistent.”

Robbe thought back on their conversation. It made his head hurt to think. “She’s done.”

“Didn’t seem it today. How much did you drink?”

“I can read it,” said Robbe. He, in fact, could not read it. Why did Jens have to write everything in cursive?

The party itself had gone by pretty smoothly, from what he could piece together at the moment. Sander turned on music from his player, an upbeat song called Rebel Rebel, and had everyone spinning in circles on the common room carpet. Robbe didn’t remember kissing Sander at all. He remembered taking a cupful of punch from Aaron and not asking about its alcohol content. The girls left early to go console Zoë on the loss, and he’d woken up with a blanket that he didn’t have when he fell asleep.

Actually, that was a pretty solid outline considering the circumstances. Good on Robbe.

Jens gave Robbe a minute to puzzle through the spirals on the parchment. If he looked at it sideways, it might be a picture of a big black dog.

“Thoughts?” said Jens. He bumped Robbe’s shoulder with his own. Robbe looked around. When did they sit on the floor?

“Good,” he said.

“Good. It was a major oversight on your part, not having a public date in the first week. You’re going to have to compensate now.”

“What?”

Jens sighed. “Like, you have to be twice as convincing. Why am I even friends with you?”

“You’re so smart,” Robbe agreed.

“Is that Robbe?” said the fourth bed. It didn’t sound like Moyo. Moyo’s drunk voice was always deeper than his normal one, full of false bravado, while this one was much lighter. Sure enough, Sander peeked his head out from the curtains. His hair stuck up in all different directions.

Jens got up from the ground and smacked Sander’s arm as Sander tried to reach for Robbe. “You don’t have to trick us. Jeez.” He addressed Robbe again. “He’s been like this all night.”

Sander ignored him. “Come over here,” he said to Robbe. “I haven’t seen you.”

“You saw me,” Robbe said.

“Not a lot.”

“Yeah, so this is the kind of material we need.” Jens pointed at the parchment roll. “Noor’s going to leave you alone.”

“Come here, Robbe.”

Robbe sobered—while Sander didn’t exactly sound serious, there was something more in the way he said those words. What, Robbe couldn’t be sure. He was probably projecting, making the whole thing up.

Sander’s clothing was rumpled, a stain on the collar of his shirt. There were circles around his eyes as if he’d been rubbing them. His perfect hand was just begging to be held—the vision began to blur a little bit on the edges, and Robbe had to blink a few times to make the picture clear again.

This wasn’t real. He was drunk and it wasn’t real. Robbe was hallucinating or something, that’s what it was.

And he didn’t want to sleep with Sander, at least, not yet.

“I am going to be physically ill,” said Jens. “Save this.”

They left the parchment on the floor. Jens climbed into his bed, Robbe into his. Sander left the curtains open on bed four, staring over at where Robbe lay, so Robbe left his own curtains open. Gotta have that line of sight. He knew Sander was drunk as a skunk, but goodness, it felt wonderful to have his attention.

“Goodnight, love,” he called over.

Jens covered his head with a his pillow. "Kill me."

***

Sander was gone when Robbe got up the next day, and just as well, because it was one PM. Robbe’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Good news, though: he could now read the parchment Jens had tacked to the door of their dormitory. Not without pain, but without much struggle. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artsy signature marked that Sander understood the objectives. Sander Driesen. He dotted the i in his last name with a little circle instead of a plain dot.

Robbe speed-read the document to the best of his ability. And panicked. If Sander was following this, they had plans at five today.

He gathered his things and dashed to the shower, careful not to wake up anyone else who might still be sleeping. Aaron seemed to have gone out; his bed was empty. Jens wasn’t visible, and Robbe didn’t think it right to open the bedcurtains to see if he was there. The shower water was freezing cold. Robbe did a little warming spell he thought he remembered and ended up evaporating it all.

He took a very cold shower.

When that was done, he changed into a collared shirt with a sweater overtop and a pair of khaki pants. Casual date outfit, check. Fake date. Couldn’t forget that. He appraised his reflection in the mirror for too long to be considered normal.

There was plenty to do in the span between now and five o’clock—exams were three weeks away and Robbe didn’t know the main ingredients of Amortentia. But he couldn’t bring himself to open the books. It made much more sense to pace around the room.

Of course they’d go on a date. Real relationships would have dates.

And Sander—last night—it was nothing.

Robbe spent a lot of his mental energy convincing himself that things didn’t matter. He spent a little more trying to forget this revelation.

Four forty-five arrived before he could list out all the possible ways a date could go wrong.

The castle was always louder on Saturday afternoons and evenings. With the morning’s hangover remedied, students were free to gossip as they pleased. As Robbe headed down the stairs to the dungeons, where Jens’ note detailed he would meet Sander, he heard no less than four separate conversations that should have been private. Two Gryffindors were having a Wrackspurt problem in their dormitory. Several Slytherins discussed a magical cure for gonorrhea that would not alert Madame Pomfrey to their situation. Yasmina and Zoë attended extra Potions sessions together, and Robbe heard them debating the proper way to skin a human arm for use. Most of interest: Britt and another girl in the final hallway.

“Sander doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Britt lamented. “I don’t think he’s been going to the hospital wing.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl replied, resting a comforting hand on Britt’s back.

Robbe tried to shrink back on himself as he walked by.

Britt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And I’m the one that’s gonna be there when it goes to shit.”

Give it up, thought Robbe. He booked it the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room’s entrance.

Sander was waiting beside the door, his back against the stonework. His look today was different than Robbe had ever seen it, a leather jacket and a t-shirt paired with tight black jeans. When he raised a hand to wave at Robbe, the shirt rode up enough to expose a line of pale skin. Robbe felt overdressed in his sweater. Sander shouldn’t think he was taking this too seriously.

“Where are we headed?” Sander asked, as soon as Robbe was within asking range.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were planning it.”

“I've been hungover.” Sander pushed away from the wall. He slipped his hand into Robbe’s, and they headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeons. Usually, only Slytherins used it. “I'm good with whatever. For Britt, obviously. Somewhere she'll see."

The staircase spit them out into the upstairs hallway. Sander brought them outside through the front doors and down into the sprawling lawn. He stopped once his feet hit the grass, and turned to Robbe. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Did Jens give instructions?”

“Jens doesn’t dictate your dating life.”

Robbe frowned. “My fake dating life.”

He hated Sander’s pained expression. “Yeah, exactly.”

Only one way to make Sander smile again, and that was to go somewhere nice. Robbe surveyed the campus. They couldn’t go to Hogsmede today unless they snuck there, and Sander wasn’t in subtle attire. There was the forest, all of those beautiful, towering trees, but there was a fifty percent chance of death if they got too close. The Whomping Willow ruled out a good chunk of grassy lawn. He knew their only option would be to sit by the lake.

Lots of couples sat by the lake. Any fake relationship should feature a date there. It got foot traffic, it was public, it screamed to the world hey, we’re together.

Robbe didn’t bring a blanket. What if he got cold?

What if Sander got cold?

The thought alone of Sander cuddled into his side was enough to drive Robbe to action. He wondered what that said about him as a person.

“The lake,” said Robbe. “We can—um—we can be there.”

“You have something to sit on?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I counted on it.” Sander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny square of fabric. With a wave of his wand, it grew into a full-sized picnic blanket in his arms. “Show me where you want to be.”

***

The early evening air, combined with the chill off the lake, had Robbe shivering in no time. He should have brought his coat out with him, but it wasn’t in the best shape, and he worried that mending spells could only keep it alive for so much longer. Best to save it for winter, when things got bad. Sander, on the other hand, had no problem removing his own jacket and sliding it around Robbe’s shoulders. He wrapped one bare arm around Robbe, sliding his hand into Robbe’s back pocket.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Cold,” said Robbe.

“I’ll tell Jens to plan the next one. He seems to like us as a couple.”

Something in Robbe’s stomach fluttered. The possibility of more intoxicated him. He caught himself before the desire became too strong; there had to be more. No convincing fake relationship was just one date.

Dusk crept in along the sky. Many of the other couples gathered their things to attend a Great Hall dinner, the likes of which Robbe had not consumed all week. He willed his stomach not to growl. Their blanket was close enough to the lake that casual waves poked at its edges.

“That’s your friend, isn’t it?” said Sander, pointing toward the castle’s open doors.

Robbe looked over. Zoë and Senne made their way across the lawn with their own picnic blanket and a lumpy knapsack. Behind them was Milan, Zoë’s best friend and Senne’s suitemate. Zoë smiled when she saw Robbe and jogged the remainder of the distance between them, dropping to the grass an inch away from Sander’s blanket.

“Look at you!” She pinched Robbe’s cheek. “Date night, I take it?”

Robbe tried not to look sheepish. “Jens said we should.”

“Mmhm,” said Zoë. She turned her attention to Sander. “Tell me the love story. I need to know.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Settle in.” Sander adjusted his position. He scooted away from Robbe, then gently tipped backward until his head rested on Robbe’s lap. “Picture this. My ex brought her best friend on one of our dates because she was mad at me. We went to the Three Broomsticks.”

Robbe remembered the Three Broomsticks. Obviously. His cheeks heated. He began twisting sections of Sander’s hair around his fingers, if only to do something with his hands. He knew Zoë just wanted to hear what Sander could think up on the fly.

“Her best friend had a date, too. No problem. I was going to spend the time staring at the wall so I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Except, the date walked in, and it was Robbe here, and I just lost it. I saw him sitting there and I thought, Sander, he is the one.”

Now Robbe was really blushing. He wanted to go vaporous and phase through the ground, if he could just remember the spell…

“I thought I was being dramatic, that I needed to give it some time. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. So I broke up with Britt. She used to complain that he spent all his time up in the astronomy tower instead of patrolling. You bet your ass I went there one night to see if he’d come up. And he did.” Sander shrugged. “The rest is history.” He propped himself up and caught Robbe in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, you can cut the bullshit.” Zoë turned to check Senne’s progress toward them. He was still a decent distance away. “Robbe told me about this.”

Sander huffed. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He kissed Robbe again.

“Yeah, pretty sure none of that was true. But I like the backstory. It’s really good.”

“I think I could make it as a writer,” said Sander.

Robbe assumed the conversation would end there. Zoë and Sander did not seem like the types of people who would have much to say to one another. Unfortunately, Zoë’s prying conversation gave Milan time to catch up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, upon seeing Sander and Robbe together. He got in close to Zoë for a stage whisper. “So this is Robbe's straight guy!” Zoë shot him a look. “What? is he not straight?”

Sander did not miss a beat, even though a statement like that implied Milan knew the truth of the arrangement. “Bisexual, actually. Or pansexual—I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Milan knowingly. “Don’t fall for Robbe, then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sander laughed. It sounded more resigned than joking. Something inside of Robbe combusted.

Milan and Senne went off and picked a spot a respectable distance away to study for their exams. Robbe noted in passing that Milan was reading pages much deeper in the Potions textbook than he had learned. He hadn’t been to a class since he started fake-dating Sander.

Zoë flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t tell him you were straight. Don’t know where he got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sander.

“And I didn’t mean to tell him the relationship was fake either, he was just so excited—”

“As long as it doesn’t get to Britt or Noor, we’re fine.”

“Robbe, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Robbe lied.

There were pleasantries afterward, although Robbe didn’t catch the specifics. He had other things to process. Sander talking about how they met—it all felt so real. Robbe found himself in a booth at the Three Broomsticks again, watching Sander take slow sips from his drink. He was in his four-poster bed while Sander slept, the curtains open so they could see each other in the dark.

He stepped on the emotion. Sander said he wouldn’t dream of falling in love with him.

Zoë went off to sit with her best friend and boyfriend, leaving space for Robbe and Sander’s date to begin. Where to begin? Number one: Sander would never fall in love with him because this was all fake. In tandem with Noor’s premonition last night, Robbe suddenly felt like he’d much rather be back inside the castle. In his bed. With the curtains pulled this time.

A headache could get him out of here. An urgent need to throw up? Maybe a mysterious summons from Jens. He needed to remember the charm that let him disappear.

Number two, back to Sander. He had wrapped his arms around his head, exposing that same patch of stomach. A line of black ink that might be a word traced the line of his hipbone down.

“Robbe?” Sander waved a hand in front of Robbe’s face.

Robbe blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you been hearing me?”

“Um,” said Robbe.

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Robbe moved his hands away. His mind was a mess of different thoughts—what would he tell the boys about this? It wasn’t fucking real. And Sander’s head was in his lap right now. He should have seen this coming before… no, he had seen this coming.

“Don’t stop,” said Sander softly. “Just… lighter.”

Robbe ran his hand through Sander’s hair. Lighter. A confession dangled on the tip of his tongue and he needed to push it back down.

“Some of what you said was true,” he said. He hoped Sander could draw the connection across conversations and realize he meant what Sander had said to Zoë, not Milan.

Sander understood. “Most of it was true.”

They waited a moment, listening to the soft waves on the lake and the bustle of other couples nearby.

“Right,” said Sander. “You’ve taken me on a date. The least you can do is tell me something nice.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Do you need Jens to write your speeches too?”

Robbe shied away from the vulnerability angle this time. Sander wouldn’t have any use for the information four weeks from now when exams were over. He marveled over how soft Sander’s hair was between his fingers, despite the fact that the ends were dry and dead from the bleach. “My father was the cook of the family,” he said. Something personal, but not intimate. “He had this recipe for blood sausage that had so many spices my mother could never stomach it. We would bring it to dinner parties when we didn’t like the people. It was funny to watch them try and compliment it during the meal when they clearly hated every last bite.” This was the story’s happier conclusion. Its actual conclusion was that his father took all the recipe cards when he walked out, and Robbe didn’t know the ingredients even though his father promised he’d get them when he turned sixteen.

“Tell me something nice.” He poked Sander.

“I don’t know if what you said constitutes nice,” said Sander. He reached up and ran a finger across Robbe’s chin. But he went on. “There’s this lady where I work over the summer that brings me David Bowie albums. She gets so excited every time she finds a new one in a garage sale somewhere, or at store, and I can’t tell her that I already own the albums already. I have five copies of Space Oddity.”

Robbe didn’t know who David Bowie was.

Another lapse into silence. Sander never seemed to mind a comfortable quiet. He guided Robbe’s head down to his for a simple kiss, but he left his eyes open, and Robbe could follow his sightline to Noor and Britt as they walked back to the castle from who-knows-where.

“Tell me something secret,” said Robbe. This much time without something on his mind could be seriously painful. “I went first last time.”

He kind of wanted Sander to refuse.

“I don’t have any secrets, Robbe.”

“You must have one.”

“Do you?”

Robbe shook his head quicker than he should have. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he said, “I’m an open book,” but he doubted it did any good.

The thing was, it was totally believable that Sander wouldn’t have any secrets. This was the boy who announced his sexuality to a friend of a friend that he didn’t even know. This was the boy who saw someone else in the astronomy tower, unloaded his relationship woes, and promptly kissed said someone else to get away from them. What did he have to hide, besides this relationship? What could someone like him possibly have to hide?

The dying day faded everything out into a stained-glass image that could take up the wall of a Hogwarts bathroom. Robbe let himself relax until his surroundings were no more than shapes and colors, pushing everything from his mind until he could barely process his hands running through Sander’s hair. The thoughts surfaced anyway. He was going to have to tell the boys about this, eventually, and maybe even Sander himself, if that was possible. Even now, his skin was electrified from contact.

So much for pushing back the sexuality crisis. It had to happen today.

“It is kind of nerve-wracking, all these people to convince,” Sander said, out of the blue. “I don’t even know who that guy is.” He pointed vaguely at Milan. “But right here, with us, this is okay. It’s just me. That’s my secret.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Robbe. It’s just you. And I’m falling in love with you.

He said, “That’s a cop-out. Tell me something else.”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 50

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Living in an apartment so full of various enchantments that you couldn't move without bumping into one certainly had its perks, but your favourite was the space enhancement that made sure the apartment could actually fit everything you wanted it to.

In their original state, both floors of the apartment weren't small on their own, but as your moving in progressed, you quickly realized that the amount of both your and Loki's belongings overran the space you'd been given. 

The solution was pretty standard and required bending only a few minor laws of physics and logic.

Whoever dared venture into your apartment now would get quite the surprise in the form of rooms that felt a little too big for the kind of space indicated by the building's construction, and doors leading to places that absolutely shouldn't be able to fit so close together and yet stubbornly did. But however much you loved the whole apartment in general, you couldn't deny that your absolute favourite part of it was the giant monstrosity of a bathtub that Loki was absolutely uncompromising about.

Laying in it now, you couldn't blame him.

The passage of time was forgotten as the two of you soaked in the scented water, kept warm for what felt like hours, and might've actually been that long. If it was up to you, you would've stayed there forever and enjoyed Loki's firm, warm body, the pleasantly dimmed lights and the few bottles of whatever Loki had hidden for special occasions.

Well, the bottles weren't there originally, but as your clean up progressed and both of you started to feel like something other than a walking biological disaster, a need for celebration rose. You weren't sure how the things progressed from the first bottle to the small pile of them on the floor by the bathtub, but you found yourself straddling Loki's lap, completely drunk and unable to move despite one of your legs going completely numb.

"Remind me to never drink with you again," you mumbled into Loki's neck. 

"I did."

"Then be more convincing…"

With your cheek plastered to him, you felt rather than heard Loki's chuckle. The rumble did unruly things to the contents of your stomach.

"I'm gonna puke."

"Please save the last of my dignity and at least aim away from me." Despite Loki's words, he didn't move a bit and if you didn't know him any better, you'd guess he was feeling similar sensations. 

With his head leaning on the tub's edge and his eyes closed, Loki was indeed fighting against the world spinning around him. The warm embrace of your body pressed into his and the water scented with jasmine were his only anchors in the chaotic mess his head tried to sort out. Truth be told, he had forgotten the full potential of the Asgardian alcohol, and especially the type he had stored for a perfect occasion. It was like a blow to all his senses, and as much as it was fun, Loki was starting to worry about his ability to ever walk out of that bathtub again. He certainly wouldn't attempt such an insanity now, with you weighing him down, so comfortably settled on his lap that you felt like an integral part of him. 

Loki tried, and failed, to convince himself it wasn't an excuse, and a pathetic one too.

"Do you think we're gonna get in trouble?" You asked, as if you knew you were on his mind.

"As petty as Odin is, I don't think he's going to execute us for stealing some alcohol…"

"I meant the stuff Thor was talking about. We kinda messed up the Moon, didn’t we?"

Loki hummed in a way that was definitely not an answer. One of his hands roamed over your exposed back, enjoying the soft curve and warm skin. The other stirred the water, making the soap bubble again and the temperature stay unchanged. Loki had to concentrate more than usual, which was partly because of the amount of alcohol consumed, and partly because his mind was slowly drifting away on soft tendrils of sleep.

"No one knows you there, and I wore my brother's face," Loki finally murmured, leaning his head back. "It'll be fine."

It, unfortunately, didn't know about those predictions, which was why It was interrupted by a certain boy's voice.

"Hey guys, are you okay?" Peter asked from the other side of the door, having let himself into the apartment. Again.

Loki groaned, even as he could feel your smile pressed to his chest. 

"We're fine," he said, louder than necessary. He winced as the sound seemed to erode his skull. 

"What about Barbara, though?" Peter was insistent. "She's scratching at the window from the outside… and I think she wants those pickles from the table?"

"You locked her outside?" You hissed, trying to look at Loki's completely innocent face, but the sudden movement only resulted in the world tilting to the side dangerously fast.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I love that bird dearly." Louder, he said to the boy, "She's only allowed to eat them outside!"

"Okay!" The answer was quick and cheerful and mercifully moving away as the boy grabbed the open jar and went outside.

Loki took a deep breath. The blessed silence once again enveloped the apartment. Through the cloud pressing on his hazy thoughts, Loki considered locking the apartment altogether. 

Another chilled bottle appeared in his hand, delightfully full and heavy. As much as he had tried to get drunk on Earth's alcohol, only the Asgardian kind seemed to do the job.

The drink burned his throat in precisely the manner he needed. It'd been so long since the two of you had a moment to yourself and could just relax without worrying about a thousand responsibilities. On most days, Loki enjoyed the kind of life he had somehow managed to secure himself. If he decided to be honest, Loki was still rather uncertain how it had happened. 

The long, curvy, and annoyingly labyrinthine road that started on the day the Avengers had decided to put him under your wing somehow ended up leading him to where he was now. Not literally, of course - as much as he loved the grand bathtub he had insisted on, Loki had in mind something grander spiritually. A place of comfort, but without the boundaries of a physical space bound to certain conditions and limitations. 

A home, but only if it could be a person. 

Loki supposed it could. Even as he drank again from the bottle, mudding his thoughts further, the philosophical conclusions he came to still felt right. 

Revelations such as these were worthy of sharing, lest they might be forever lost in one's memory. Loki wanted to share the wisdom granted to him by the unholy amount of Asgardian cider, but he had found you plastered to his chest, asleep. And drooling. 

Loki made sure the water didn't run cold as he too decided to join you in the dreams' escape. The quiet popping of the soap bubbles and the lavender scent hanging in the air lulled him quickly into a state of complete and utter comfort… 

"Brother, where are you hiding? 

…from which a rather brutish, and definitely unwelcome voice dragged him away. 

Loki started. The contents of a forgotten bottle escaped into the water. 

As the heavy steps sounded outside of the bathroom, it was clear the apartment was being searched through again. 

You swore. Loki agreed. 

"I'm going to," he hiccuped, "change him into a frog." 

"Barbara would devour him whole."

"Let them fight. He always prided himself to be a warrior."

Fortunately for Thor, even though he was not aware of the small mercy of the universe, Loki found himself too drunk to act on his words, despite his best attempts at conjuring the transformative spell.

But when his brother's thudding steps neared the bathroom again, with clear intent of dragging Loki out in whatever state he was, Loki was forced to make a very dire decision very quickly, or lest his quiet evening suffer a bitter end.

So Loki did what he had always done best, and spiced the world up with a tiny little trick.

You heard Thor approach the door, but you didn't have it in you to move and at least cover yourself up. The doorknob twisted and you heard it very well through the slight creak it always gave. Then you heard the door open - but it didn't.

Living in an apartment complex had its perks, and being able to hear your neighbors on occasion certainly wasn't one. Still, your gaze turned up when you heard a high-pitched scream and Thor's booming voice coming from the apartment above yours.

"He's going to kill you for that," you said.

"Given the vigor with which he was looking for me, I think he had a hefty list of reasons prepared already."

"That's fair."

As all good things have in common, they always come to a saddening end when you least expect them to. The conclusion that life was utterly unfair in its precipice was a natural one to come up with, even in the state of drunkenness. 

"I think it's time for us to go," Loki sighed.

A groan escaped you when the world tilted to the side. Getting out of the bathtub while completely, embarrassingly drunk was a feat that almost resulted in one broken neck and three broken limbs, but somehow both of you managed to scramble your way out. While you searched for clothes that had an annoying habit of duplicating right in front of your eyes, Thor's roars of fury sounded clear through the many walls separating you. 

You wondered if any of the neighbours would connect their unexpected guest to you.

You gave up on your search for the other sock and decided to only wear one. Trying to put it on was already hard as it was. "If you spelled all the doors in the building to lead astray, how are we getting out?"

"Don't worry," Loki hiccuped. "My brother dearest is too stupid to notice I didn't touch the windows."

You had never loved anything as much as you loved the walls in your apartment, their quiet support helping you get through the endless expanse of the living room. For reasons you elected to ignore, the swaying of the world only increased as you progressed, bumping into every single piece of furniture some idiot (most likely you the day before) had decided to put there.

"I don't think this is a good idea," you slurred when Loki opened the window, pickleless, owlless and impossibly high.

"Your intuition, my love, is right as always."

Loki managed to put his leg over the windowsill on the second try, which he deemed a great success. He also managed to get down on the other side with no life-threatening injuries, which was just as surprising.

His pride was short-lived when you tumbled down, knocking him off feet.

The few half-melted snowmen seemed to have a good laugh. The little garden was still winter-bare, and no grass cushioned the fall. Barbara, perched on top of Peter's head, hissed with obvious joy. 

The boy blinked. "Are you...sneaking out?" 

"No," Loki grunted in the same moment you said, "Yes."

Barbara ripped another pickle from the boy's hand. Life was short, especially after you died once, and there was only so much time she deemed worth looking at the two of you. She had far more pressing issues, like the impossibly narrow jar into which her head just wouldn't fit, and so left her reliant on the boy's nimble (and tasty) fingers.

"...are you sure?" The boy watched the two drunkards scramble to stand up. 

"We're just out for a walk."

"A long one."

Glass broke upstairs, followed by raised voices and what was undeniably a string of curses.

Loki looked at you. You looked at Loki. Another Loki looked at you. Unable to choose which to make eye contact with, you squinted and the two Lokis merged together—damn you were never drinking again. There was no way all of you would sneak out in time.

Barbara ripped another pickle to shreds.

"Hey, Peter," you cooed sweetly. "Do you happen to know a quiet little place to lay low for a while, my darling?"

Peter, the darling, did.

*****

A/N: Hi! I'm sorry for no chapter last week, my university is going to kill me with that graduation paper I have to work on and reasearch and realize how little do I actually know about the subject I have to get a 70-pages long paper done. Heh.

But don't worry, this story is slowly nearing its end, and even though I have little time to work on new chapters, I'm doing my best and hope you'll enjoy them. Well, my life's pretty busy right now, and it stresses me out, so I'm not sure how regular the updates will be, but I promise, I'm not giving up on this story. I'm so happy about all the support I have received for this story, and grateful for all the comments it got! Hope you enjoyed this chapter too!

[mewtonian-physics]

my ranking of the alex rider original series (stormbreaker through scorpia rising) from ‘book i least enjoy rereading’ to ‘book i most enjoy rereading’ let’s goooo

spoilers for all 9 books under the cut

9. Ark Angel

...He went to space. He went to space. Also the entire plot could have been avoided if Drevin had actually bothered to provide a photograph of his son. I’m sure he had one. I still like this book but it’s literally so insane that I just don’t know what to do with it. 

It is however really funny that Webber just goes and gives a speech insulting this super high-profile ecoterrorist group and acts like it’s no big deal and then they kill him. Shock of shocks.

8. Skeleton Key

Okay, points to this book for terrifying the shit out of me. God damn it does that shark scene scare me. Also, points for making me feel a little bit bad for a man who wants to nuke his own country because he thinks it will fix the place up. I’m still not entirely sure how that’s supposed to work, but that’s probably a good thing. I feel like understanding his thought process would say bad things about me. Still, I actually did feel sorry for him, if only a little. Dude was clearly mentally unstable and I doubt his son’s death helped at all. I also got sad about what happened to Carver and Troy. (Yeah, yeah, I’m a cringe fail American who has the American release. So sue me.) What a nightmare that must’ve been to endure... Otherwise, though, I’m not super into this book. The opening is just kind of meh and the way it leads into the rest of the plot seems a little bit unbelievable. Also, this might be an unpopular opinion, but Sabina annoys me. I would not get along with her at all and I can’t imagine her as a girlfriend. Skeleton Key does, however, absolutely excel at the emotional scenes. 

Also, why are all the spy agencies so comfortable with sending in a 14-year-old? Especially when they outright admit that the other attempts have all died horribly? Bureaucracy’s a bitch.

7. Point Blank

Boo, Dr. Grief! Boo! We hate your white supremacy! I’m so glad you got a snowmobile to the face, you deserved it. (Perks of books written by Jewish people--we aren’t afraid to give the neo-Nazis an unpleasant death.) Anyway, this book definitely isn’t bad, but I wouldn’t really say it stands out in the series. It definitely does hammer home the point of just how trapped Alex is, since MI6 isn’t going to just let him go after one mission, and let’s face it, the plot with the clones is creepy as hell, if highly improbable. But I’m largely just here to see the neo-Nazi get snowmobiled. That’s right, I just completely changed the definition of a pre-established word. I’m a rebel.

Also, I hate Fiona Friend so much and overall think she just didn’t need to be in the book, but the line about ‘I’d rather kiss the horse’ made me laugh so hard. Alex, you sass.

6. Snakehead

Okay, let’s talk about how genius the plan in this book is. I love it! I love how Yu wants to kill the people involved in the peace conference without making them into martyrs, so he comes up with this whole elaborate plan to stage a natural disaster. It’s incredible. This dude was thinking so far ahead. And he would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid... But anyway, I don’t see a lot of books where the villain really acknowledges that killing their enemies could just cause more problems for them via turning them into martyrs for a cause. Also, the way he’s so polite and soft-spoken while also being a complete monster... This book genuinely gives me chills. Extra bonus points for the part in the hospital, the absolute nightmare of having all your organs slowly removed and sold off and everyone around you is being so nice about it? ‘Oh, don’t worry, Alex, it won’t be so bad. Here, take your medicine. Do you need anything?’ Literally just. What the fuck. 

Also Ash can fucking fight me. You put your own godson in horrible danger on purpose! You killed your best friend! Bastard. 

...And just in case the book wasn’t disturbing enough, Yu’s fate at the end lives in my mind rent-free and I think about it on a concerningly regular basis considering that the chances of that happening to me are so low they’re practically in the negatives. Damn you, Horowitz.

I would also be remiss if I did not mention just how much I love the tagline ‘once bitten, twice spy’.

5. Crocodile Tears

Ah yes, the book that kickstarted my drift away from the church... I kid, of course. I drifted away from the church for completely separate reasons. But Desmond McCain is always going to scare the shit out of me. The ability to kill countless innocent people while blissfully quoting Bible verses (that he takes wildly out of context and uses for his own self-serving means) is... well, I could actually say a lot about what that reminds me of, but I’m here to rate books, not religion. Moving on. This book has some really stellar antagonists, and the plot is chilling in a way that feels a lot more realistic than most of the other books. Even if some of it is a bit farfetched (sabotaging a nuclear power plant? Really?), the idea of using disasters for your own profit... well. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on why that is so believable. The Poison Dome is also a really cool and chilling scene--even Alex, who has the luck of the devil, can’t get out of that one unscathed. Further scares come in with the fate of Harold Bulman--imagine having your entire existence wiped and your identity changed while you were asleep! The breakdown he has over it is almost enough to make me feel sorry for him, even though he was ready to exploit a teenager and make his life a living hell just to turn a profit. Note the word almost.

Also. The opening makes me cry. Specifically the line talking about how Ravi’s kids would ‘never meet Mickey Mouse’. I lose my goddamn mind every single time I read it. That little personal touch turns the scene from a statistic to a tragedy. Once again: Damn you, Horowitz.

4. Stormbreaker

Yeah, this one gets the special cover shot. And why not? What we are looking at here is the birth of a legend. Move the fuck over, James Bond, Alex Rider is on the scene now. Anyway, yeah, this book is pretty damn spectacular. It has its stumbles, but as the first book in a series, that’s to be expected. Still, it pulls you in from quite literally the first line and keeps you going right up until the end. (If you came here from my post of memes, you know how much the line ‘Killing is for grownups, and you’re still a child’ destroys me.) It has the debut of much-beloved characters such as, of course, Alex--but also Jack Starbright, and of course, the best MI6 agent of them all, which is to say Smithers. Hell, even Yassen Gregorovich, especially once you get through Russian Roulette... Man, that was a rough one. 

Seriously, though. This is a really good book. The scene with the Portuguese man-o’-war still gives me the chills to think about. (Have you ever looked up pictures of those things? They’re beautiful, but holy shit will they make you regret being born. Nature is funny like that.) 

We also get the introduction of, of course, Alex’s patented sass (his response to Sayle saying he relates to the man-o’-war is HILARIOUS) and we get the inherent humor of Alex screwing up an alias one time and then just going by Alex for the rest of the series so he doesn’t do that again. Really, kid, I know you’re not a trained spy or anything but did you never play pretend growing up? Ever? You can’t pretend your name is Felix for a little while? That sounds like a you problem.

3. Scorpia Rising

I distinctly remember when this book came out, actually. I was on vacation at the time, and I remember my brother annoying the hell out of the poor workers at a bookstore we frequented there to see if/when they were going to get it in. They did, finally, and we bought it immediately, and I was of course absolutely desperate to read it. He got to read it first, though. -_-

This is a great book, an absolute emotional rollercoaster all the way through. The way Blunt tricks Alex back into service by staging a shooting was exactly the kind of cold, brutal behavior I’d expect from him. Seeing Julius come back was shocking, but very exciting, too. And Razim makes an incredibly chilling villain, with his absolute disregard for human life and his desire to measure pain. Also, seeing Smithers’s house was so much fun. Smithers in this book was just really fun in general, but he’s really fun in every book, so... nothing unusual there. But also, I want an unwelcome mat. Please?

2. Eagle Strike

‘But Penny,’ you might ask, ‘why is this book so high on your list? It has so much of Sabina in it, and you said she annoys you.’ That is true. What does not annoy me, however, is basically the entire rest of the book. I love the tense opening, and then reading through Alex’s real-life ‘playthrough’ of Feathered Serpent is still one of my favorite scenes. Cray is absolutely incredible as a villain, with the way that he truly believes in his cause--which is undoubtedly a good one! Yet the extremes to which he will go for that cause, and the fact that he very nearly succeeds, are what elevate him to one of the most dangerous villains in the series. That scene with Charlie Roper and the nickels is something I can never seem to stop thinking about. Actually, I think about it basically whenever I think about large amounts of money paid in small increments... 

Also, I really enjoy how he gets into the whole plot in the first place, and I really enjoy Smithers saying ‘ah, fuck it’ and helping him out anyway. Go, Smithers. You once again prove me right in saying that you’re the coolest adult in MI6.

The revelation that Yassen knew Alex’s father is one that absolutely blew my mind first time around. The way his life was threaded into the lives of the Rider family--he worked with John Rider, was saved by him, killed Ian Rider, and then died for refusing to kill Alex Rider--wow. Wow. It gets to me. It really gets to me. This book is a masterpiece. I heard that it’s going to be what the second season of the TV series is based off of, and I’m so hyped for that. We love to see it, we really do.

1. Scorpia

I don’t believe anyone who says this book didn’t get to them at all. I just think they are lying. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to not be affected by this book. God. Just thinking about it reminds me of why I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, come on. We get all this backstory about Alex’s parents, we get tricked along with him into thinking MI6 killed his father, then bam, that was a lie, and Alex may have just fucked himself over big time. Also, that plot is terrifying! (And I bet anti-vaxxers had a field day with it, huh.) Julia Rothman is a really great antagonist, one of the only ones who didn’t go and explain her plan in great detail to Alex--the fact that she didn’t actually being a plot point was something I personally found pretty clever. In general, this book is... I tend to hate when people say they ‘can’t put it down’ because it’s usually an obvious exaggeration, but that really is how I feel reading it.

And again. If that ending didn’t get to you... Well, I just think you are lying.

[hargrove-mayfields]

this is part two of this fic if you want to read that first!! warnings in the tags!

When they finally make the leap out of Hawkins, they move into a one story in Oregon, of all places. It’s not California, but it’s close by, and the doctors say that for the sake of Billy’s lungs, he needs a more mild climate than he’d have there. Besides, Billy insists that anyplace is home enough for him as long as Steve’s with him.

After a few months of living there with a nagging sense that something was missing from the space, they’re able to complete their new home when they find an upright piano for next to nothing on the side of the road to replace the old grand they had to leave behind at Steve’s parents place.

It’s much less sophisticated than what they’re accustomed to, the finish had long ago chipped off and half of the yellowed keys played the wrong notes, but they’re able to fix it up with some work.

Once it’s presentable, shined up and once again functioning properly, it sits like a trophy in the corner of their dining room, a symbol of what they could do with music. That graceful ability to grow and to change and to heal that they were so familiar with, and of the love that developed between them on the bench.

Billy plays more than Steve does, to keep himself occupied when he’s on his own and itching to get out there and break every rule of his recovery laid down by his doctors.

Even after he regains most of his strength, his hands no longer shaking from the simplest of tasks, the piano never loses its power to keep him out of his thoughts, chasing away nightmares and rampant fears so he can feel like himself.

The sounds of Billy’s playing carrying through their houses, the soft twinkling of keys as the first rays of sunshine cut through curtained windows is like an alarm clock, has Steve waking up in a bliss each morning.

Even in the winter, when the cold is especially hard on Billy’s body, his scars sore like they’re still new and his joints stiff and aching, he’s guaranteed to be up to play at the first rays of the morning sun, usually before Steve is even up for work.

One particularly snowy morning, when Steve wakes up to the usual melody of Billy’s playing with the sun in his eyes, he takes a moment to just stay in bed and revel in the warm music drifting in the room before he realizes he’s slept through his alarm.

He panics for a moment, shoves his glasses onto his face crooked and stumbles out of the bed fast enough he almost trips over the comforters still wrapped around him, but in his effort to stay upright he notices a note on the nightstand.

In Billy’s shaky handwriting it reads, “School’s cancelled. Thought I’d let you sleep in -B”

Steve chuckles to himself over the mix-up, and peeks out the window past thick curtains to see a few inches of snow that wasn’t there when they’d gone to bed the night before. He’s not one to say he hates his job, or even dislikes it, teaching is what he’d always wanted to do, but a thousand times over he’d rather be given the chance to stay at home with Billy.

Without bothering to change out of his pajamas, he pads down the hall into the kitchen, focusing on the song drifting in from the dining room, one he doesn’t think he recognizes, as he starts to make their morning white tea.

Billy would’ve rather it be a morning coffee, but that much caffeine is bad for his heart, so they settle for tea with honey and a pinch of sugar.

“Mornin’, Stevie.” Without looking up, he acknowledges Steve as he enters with two steaming mugs. “Did you get my note?”

“Wouldn't I be out the door by now if I hadn’t?” Steve sets their teas on the corner of the dining table to cool, and sits down so he’s straddling the bench. He situates himself so he can wrap his arms loosely around Billy’s braced torso, and rest his cheek against his shoulder so he can watch scarred hands as they glide across the keys.

Billy chuckles, smiles down at the keys. “Touché.”

Once he’s settled, Steve sighs through his nose and asks, “What’s that you’re playin’?”

“S’a song called When.” This tip of Billy’s tongue pokes out just between his teeth, his concentration on what he’s playing intense. He acknowledges Steve again when he reaches a slower part of the song. “You wanna hear it?”

An answer isn’t really necessary, Billy knows undoubtedly that Steve is interested in anything he does, but he gives a confirmation regardless. “You know I do.” He shifts until he’s comfortable against Billy’s side, and Billy starts into the song.

His voice is much better than before, now that his throat is healed. It’s still a little gravelly, gets deeper when he sings where Steve’s gets higher, but it’s smooth and warm and just about Steve’s favorite sound in the whole world.

Closing his eyes, Steve focuses on just listening to the magical sounds that Billy can make, on feeling the soothing vibrations of his voice as he works through the piece.

With words the song is vaguely familiar, and it’s truly a beautiful thing.

It’s a ballad to nature, ironic for someone who spends most of his day confined to indoors or his own backyard. The song is gentle, full of pretty trills to accentuate even prettier lyrics, but it takes on a melancholy tone, given the context.

Appreciation for life, for the world and everything good within it is something anyone can relate to, but apply it to a sick man and it changes the meaning drastically. Gives it more a sense of longing for these things, and it’s got Steve feeling overwhelmed by its sincerity.

Typically, Billy favored songs he thought were fun like The Bitch is Back and piano covers of songs far too hard core for the dainty instrument, so it’s surprising, hearing him pouring his heart out through an actual ballad, but Steve is glad for it, that fond and warm feeling growing in his chest at hearing Billy’s song.

The song trills one more time into a slow crescendo, and finishes off in a way that Steve couldn’t have been expecting with the words, ““When the whole world is filled, with Mother Nature's noises… that's the time to stuff cotton in your ears!”

The change of tone in the song is so abrupt it makes Steve open his eyes again and pull away from his hold around Billy’s waist, keeping his fingers linked but leaning way back to look at his face. Billy’d duped him, had him feeling all emotional before revealing his cards, his normal sense of humor.

He’s wearing a smile, crooked and relaxed as he takes in Steve’s reaction, the confusion at the pace change. Despite the humor twinkling in his eyes, he asks innocently, “What?”

“Nothing.” Steve can’t help but smile back, even if he shakes his head at Billy’s choice of song.

Still smiling, Billy kisses him, soft and slow in a way that has always made Steve feel like it was the first time, his heart doing backflips while he melts into the bench.

They pull away for a breath, and the moment passes bittersweet, just as many do these days. Giggle almost always turn to tears anymore, and Steve feels his lip start to tremble, feels Billy put a hand on the small of his back so he can pull him closer and sigh into his hair.

Billy’s dying.

The doctors say he’s only got a few years left in him, if that. His heart is worn out from too many surgeries and medications to keep the hole in his chest closed.

They can’t fix it for fear of doing nothing but speeding up the process. They’re stuck with the recommendation to take him home and make him comfortable that nobody ever wants to hear, especially not now, when they’re still young, supposed to be living their lives to the fullest.

He’s already lived longer than they initially estimated when his body started rejecting the transplanted lung a while back, but he’s sick, getting sicker all the time.

The weight he’d been able to put back on in the years following that initial hospital stay was gone again, and his lung capacity was worse every day to the point that even with the oxygen tubes he felt breathless and dizzy, and he was coughing up blood.

Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do when Billy’s gone. Doesn’t know if he’ll keep teaching, if he’ll leave the area, he doesn’t like to dwell on it too much.

But what he does know for sure, is that the house will never be silent, and the piano won’t be covered. Won’t be forgotten in that corner or left unplayed after he goes.

It will stay just where Billy left it, to commemorate him and all he’d done with it, to honor and remember his music through Steve’s own.

Moments like these, fleeting as they are, are everything to Steve anymore. When Billy isn’t here anymore, all he would have were the memories of mornings like these and every second together with him, sealed in a box in his heart where nobody could touch them.

To lose the person behind that, there are no words that can describe how hard that’s going to be. Loss has never been easy for Steve, and having time to anticipate it did nothing but draw out the pain of knowing what was coming, what he’d have to let go of.

But it wouldn’t hurt forever.

Of course he would allow himself the time to mourn, how couldn’t he, when he’d be losing the only person who’d been able to take every wish and dream he could ever have possibly had and make them all come true, who’d ever really loved him. But he promised Billy, and himself, that he wouldn’t let himself be sad.

Because he refuses to remember him by his lows, all the countless days spent in the hospital, sleepless nights when he’d have coughing fits and be in so much pain he couldn’t sleep, the teary eyed panic attacks when something triggered a bad memory. That wasn’t Billy.

When the time comes, Steve wants to keep making music. To use the very tool he’d given Billy after government conspiracy and more than a year in the hospital, back then to offer him an outlet to feel better, to now keep his memory alive. Give him a legacy.

In the moment, Steve lets Billy wipe away his tears and pull him closer still to kiss the top of his head. He chokes back a sob listening to that wavering heartbeat from where he’s drawn close, and tries to chase the thoughts away.

Because they’re here now. Billy isn’t gone yet and Steve isn’t letting go. Right now, there’s still time to create more moments to hold onto, to create something beautiful, melodic, powerful.

Steve taught Billy to play the piano, but Billy taught Steve how to live in the moment, how to care for someone with all of his heart. More than anything, Billy taught Steve how to grieve.

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 4 – The Saviour

(Mando x f!reader)

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Summary: Your pursuit of the child leads you to the outer reaches of the Galaxy. After escaping imperial forces you find yourself out of the frying pan and into the fire on an unpredictable and ever changing planet.

Notes: Hope everyone who celebrates it had a lovely Christmas yesterday and that everyone else is enjoying some time off! Thank you for the likes and the reblogs (those truly brought a tear to my eye!)

TW: Swearing, drownings, violence

Word count: 5.7 k (this one really got away from me)

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles

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

Outer reaches, Deep Space

“So where are we? Outer rim?” you ask, hoping whatever the answer was, it was close to your final destination. It’s been a few days since you had left Tatooine and you were starting to go stir crazy.

“Even further, are you sure that it’s right?”

“Anya,” you emphasize, scratching her behind the ear “is never wrong.”

“How do you know? I thought no one ever met you and lived to tell the tale.”

“I miss when you wouldn’t string more than two words together” you say dodging the question. “Trust me she’s not wrong.” After another few hours of silence you hear the modulator tune in again

“How does it work? The kid can’t talk. He can’t explain it to me.”

You know what he’s referring to but you're tired and really didn't want to get into a discussion with him knowing it would likely end in an argument. Besides you were still trying to suss out if he could be trusted.

“And who says I’m going to.” you state bluntly.

“Trust goes both ways”

“And what’s that supposed to mean Mandalorian?” you retort.

“You ask me to trust you, but don’t extend the favor.” he explains.

“I think showing you my ability to use the force would constitute an act of trust to most. Not like you’ve given me many a reason to trust you.”

“So it is the force you use?” he says, evidently priding himself on getting an answer out of you. A few more hours pass, getting tired of the silence you decide sleeping is your best option at passing the time.

“Wake me if anything happens” you say nestling back into your seat.

“You can use the bed if you want” he offers, likely knowing just how uncomfortable the chairs were.

“Wouldn’t want to impose on your hospitality anymore than I already have.” you say, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep.

You wake up in unfamiliar surroundings the first thing you notice is the unmistakable cold. You exhale causing a small cloud to appear from between your lips as the warmth of your insides meets the frigid temperatures surrounding you. As you sit up you take note of the room you're in, its grey, metallic, industrial almost medicinal. You shift off the small bed placing your feet down on the white tiled floor. Your bare feet make contact with the floor reinstating how cold it was. Had you crashed? You move out into the hallway and begin walking through the building the fluorescent lights flickering in time with each step. Where were you? How had you gotten here?“Mandalorian” you shout hesitantly. Your voice echoes through the hallway, but there’s no reply. Where was he? The hairs on the back of your neck stand up only this time the cold is not to blame. Someone or something was here with you. You continue to the end of the hallway pulling on a nearby lever which opens a door revealing a scene of white. You lift your hand up to your eyes trying to block your face from the violent winds swirling around you. You want to turn around, head back inside where you were at least protected from the wind, but your feet lead you further out into the frozen landscape. Through your fingers you’re able to make out a shadow belonging to a figure standing alone, unmoving even in the wind. You're close enough to reach out for it, but as you make contact the cloak drops. The figure is gone but their presence isn't, your blood runs cold when you hear a voice whisper behind you.“y/n”.

You shoot awake, your heart’s beating out of your chest. You look from side to side cold sweat dripping down your face. You hadn’t had a nightmare like that since you had first begun killing in the rings. What the hell had brought it on? The seemingly unfazed Mandalorian looks over to you.

“You okay?” He asks apathetically. You ignore his question assuming it was rhetorical. Nonetheless you were glad to be back in familiar company.

“You should get some rest, I can take over for now.” You say, using the back of your sleeve to wipe off the sweat plastered to your forehead.

“Don’t touch anything,” he says, getting up and walking down the stairs returning again after about an hour. You didn’t understand how he survived on so little sleep. You stand up allowing him to sit back down in the pilot's seat. You stare aimlessly out into space, still slightly shaken by how vivid your dream sequence had been, but that's all it was, a dream. Best to let it go.

“We’re here. dropping out of hyperspace now” he says flicking a few switches. As he does you’re launched forward, not having been paying attention to what he was saying. Fortunately, the Mandalorians' reflexes were fast and he managed to wrap his free arm around your waist just in time to stop you from flying head first through the window. As the ship stabilizes he pushes you back down into your chair.

“Seatbelts” he says, not once making eye contact with you.

“Some warning would have been nice” you say, doing up the belt trying to deflect from the sudden heat you had felt come over you. You gaze out at the planet before you. It’s covered in what appears to be a dense forest with a few mountains and high plateaus cutting between the treescapes like veins. Landing on a plateau the Mandalorian scans the planet.

“No sign of life here. Looks like your pet was wrong.” He says dialing up the ship again.

“Wait. Stop.” you say getting up from your seat and dropping down to the lower level opening the door before he can take off again. Frustrated he turns off the ship and follows you out. The forest was tropical, huge palm trees reached high up in the sky and a dampness clung to the air. You hear the modulator click, but you shush him causing the T-visor to turn to you clearly not-amused.

“There’s something here.” you say

“Maybe, but I’m not sticking around to find out what” he says making a grab for your arm, you dodge him stepping just out of his reach causing his hand to close around the air, further aggravating him.

“It could be the child.” You say, a warm breeze causing some of your hair to blow freely.

“How do you know?” he asks.

“I just feel it”

“Fine.” He says, re-entering the ship in order to shut it down completely. Taking a deep breath you feel the air around you. It was surprisingly salty, more well suited for a mineral based planet or an ocean. You re-enter the ship and see the Mandalorian throwing supplies into a bag.

“You got another one of those?” you ask. He continues packing, ignoring your question. “I like to carry my own weight.” You say louder this time, moving into his line of sight. Reluctantly he hands you a slightly smaller rucksack and you begin packing supplies into it.

“Seems pretty warm out there we should be fine without these.” he says moving the blankets you had pulled out aside, did he have to fight you on everything?

“Better safe than sorry.” You say pulling them back towards you, not willing to give him an inch.

“What?” he puzzles

“It’s a saying.” You say looking up from your bag and over to the expressionless helmet, “did you have many of those on Mandalore, or was it only ‘this is the way’” you say in a mock deep voice.

“I’m not from Mandalore and that’s not funny.” He says, stuffing a few preserves into his bag, filling it to its brim.

“Well, I think it’s hilarious” You say strapping your bag across your chest. “Alright, let’s get to the good stuff” you say making your way over to the armoury. He opens it up, and you reach for the spear that had caught your eye earlier.

“Not that one.” He says reaching over you and moving it aside before lifting his preferred weapons off. Slightly disgruntled at being denied you look up at the wall again and take down the bow and arrow he’d procured.

“Let’s get this over with,” you say pushing past him and out of the door. You’re walking for what feels like hours in the heat and humidity trapped in by the forest's thick leaf coverage. Your water supplies were already running low and the two of you were getting slower with each step. At least the sun was being blocked out. You know you’ve been moving in the same direction since you let the ship, but it felt like you were going in circles. You stop, placing the back of your hand on his chest plate to halt him.

“You hear that? We’re near water. Let’s hope it’s drinkable” You say, smiling as you turn back to him. The smile fades when you notice he’s tensed up. “What?” you ask, prompting and inaudible grumble from underneath the Mandalorians helmet.

“Sorry what was that?”

“I don’t like water.”

“Why?” you ask, slightly bemused by his revelation.

“Can’t swim.” He says

“What seriously? Honestly you have to answer me. I can’t read you over the helmet.”

“Yes seriously. Don’t laugh at me, I bet you can’t shoot a blaster.”

“I can shoot a blaster.” You say stifling your laughter.

“I meant well and on target.” He says smugly, evidently trying to gain an upper hand in the argument.

“You’re insufferable.” You scoff.

“Shh” he says, suddenly changing the tone of the conversation at hand.

“Don’t shush me Mandalorian I’m not a child”

“Shut up.” You’re about to talk back when you feel something approaching, you curse yourself for having picked up on it earlier. You should have been paying better attention to your surroundings.

“Drop your weapons scum, hands in the air”. A modulated voice says from behind the two of you.

“You couldn’t have sensed that,” the Mandalorian says wryly. The two of you place your weapons on the ground and turn around, slowly raising your hands in the air as you come face to face with two stormtroopers.

“The Mandalorian, good our boss will be thrilled to know we have the man who screwed him over to rescue a child.” The trooper on the left says, causing you to inadvertently stare up at the beskar clad man only just realizing the reason he was so desperate to get back to the child, he loved it.

“Listen I…” you start

“Shut it, you’re on the list as well darling.” The trooper on the right says. You roll your eyes and the Mandalorian starts negotiations, but you’ve come up with a better plan. With the troopers distracted you slowly lower the hand which was currently hidden behind the Mandalorians broad shoulders, stopping at his waist. Thank god the blaster was still there. You pull it out of its holster and shoot down the two troopers in one swift movement. He looks down at you impressed, as you place the gun back in its holster. You mistake his admiration for annoyance.

“I know, I know, no one touches the blaster” you say maneuvering your way past the dead troopers splayed on the floor.

“We should watch our step, where there's one there bound to be more”. The two of you continue on in silence. You weren't about to be snuck up on again, and when you were talking with the Mandalorian you found yourself with tunnel vision. A clearing appears revealing a medium sized imperial base hidden beneath the thick canopy of the rainforest. The two of you duck behind a nearby rock.

“What do we have?” you ask, as he scans the building.

“Imperial outpost, 20 troopers. They must have him here” Mando says standing up. You pull him back down before anyone spots him.

“Slow down hot shot. What’s the plan?” you ask, the two of you now with your backs against the rock.

“Plan is, I go in, get the child and we leave.” He states matter of factly.

“I can help.” you emphasize causing him to stare down at you seemingly trying to assess if you can be of any use to him “Look, I’m not going to be sidelined on this.”

“Fine, but don’t slow me down,” he says.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. What's the plan captain”

“We draw out the 10 troopers patrolling the outer yard, you see that red canister there?” you nod “It’s full of Rhydonium, that bow is outfitted with an explosive device you fire it into that canister and they go up in flames. That’s half down, between the two of us I think we can take out the rest. “

“So your plan is a crap shot followed by improvisation, I like it.” You say standing up and drawing your bow.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Drawing them out, cover me. Hey Bucketheads!'' you shout causing the troopers to turn and descend upon you. Mando moves into a sniper position diverting any shots being aimed at you. As they reach the Rhydonium you press a button on the arrow and it begins to beep indicating the bomb’s been activated. With a deep inhale you lift the bow stretching the string back to your cheek before letting it fly. The arrow hits the canister and it explodes on impact setting the group of troopers ablaze and alerting the rest to your presence.

“Nice shot!” He says from below.

“Thanks, I never miss” you respond, firing another arrow which lodges itself in the neck of one of the troopers. You’re drawing yet another arrow when a blaster fires directly at you, before you have time to react the Mandalorian has moved in front of you allowing the beskar to deflect the shot. As it hits his armour you duck underneath his arm and fire again hitting another trooper as he shoots down two more.

The two of you begin to move in towards the door, only 6 left by your count. He gestures for you to take the left while he goes right. Turning the last of the corners you lower your bow when the area is clear. Upon hearing the sound of blasters going off around the corner you break into a light jog. You slow your pace down to a walk drawing another arrow and taking aim splicing through another troopers armour causing it to drop. Two of the five remaining troopers leave the Mandalorian and rush you.

Without breaking stride you religne your shot and take another down. You and the last trooper continue towards each other. You go to draw again but you’re all out of arrows. The trooper fires and you duck under his outstretched arm. Maneuvering behind him you wrap the bow around his neck pulling down towards the ground with all your strength. It’s not enough and his elbow hits you in the stomach knocking the wind out of you causing you to fall to the ground. Standing back up you raise your fists ready to fight with whatever you had available when you hear a voice yell out “Catch!”

Reaching your arm back you grab the blaster mid air. Taking aim you fire it into the chest of the last trooper.

“Thanks” you say breathlessly, turning around and offering it back to the Mandalorian.

“Keep it. Now I know you won’t blow your own arm off.” He says.

“So how do you think we're getting through this door? Blasters?” you ask jamming nonsensically at the keys on the padlock to the building.

He appears by your side with a severed finger which he places on the scanner. You look up at him slightly disturbed.

“Couldn’t have brought the whole body over?”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t an eye scanner” he deadpans, as the doors open revealing one last trooper you aim your newly acquired blaster at him.

“Wait.” Mando says, pushing the trooper up against the wall keeping him in place with a forearm across the chest “Where’s the kid?”

“Gone, we were ambushed by smugglers last week they took all of it including the thing.” He says motioning to the carrier the child must have been transported in

“He's not a thing” the Mandalorian says slamming the trooper hard into the wall shooting him as he hits the floor. During the interrogation you had walked over and removed a piece of blanket from the travel case hoping it would still have a scent strong enough for Anya to trace.

“No ships, no speeders, guess we’re walking back” he says and the two of you set back through the lush forest.

“Makers, where are we?” you say suddenly unable to remember where you were heading, the sun was beginning to set and these forests wouldn’t be safe at night. You stop and take a seat on the jungle floor. Closing your eyes you try to recenter yourself, but no luck nothing was calling to you.

“What’s the point of the force, if you can’t use it.” The Mandalorian exclaims walking ahead of you. Before you can point out that that’s not how it works something else takes precedence. You hear water and it's getting closer, but you weren’t moving. “Wait.” You say. But he’s too far ahead, to hear you. “Wait!” you yell, he turns around just in time for you to see the ground below him give way to an ocean “Mando!” you scream as you watch him disappear beneath the waves.

“Shit” you say, turning to run in the opposite direction of the fast approaching currents, but something stays your legs. You remember he can’t swim, if you left him he’d die. “So what, I could find my way back to the ship, take off and live out the rest of my days on a beach somewhere.” Then you remember the child, and how he needed the Mandalorian, and most importantly how you couldn’t fly a ship. “Fine” you say out loud more so to yourself than anyone else. You take off your bag removing anything heavy leaving only the piece of blanket and a few other necessities in it before securing it tightly across your chest. You drop the weapons onto a ground that you prayed would be there when you resurfaced and dive into the violent waves.

You don’t see him when you first open your eyes but it’s surprisingly calm under the waves, and with a little focus you manage to locate the Mandalorian. As you approach you see his thrashing body suddenly go limp, you didn’t have much time, hooking your arms under his armpits you heave upwards. You break through the surface spluttering the salt water out of your lungs which begin to refill once again with air. “Holy fuck you’re heavy” you curse. It's taking all your strength to keep both your heads above water, wherever you had left your weapons had disappeared into the vast seascape. You scan the surface, if you didn’t find somewhere to pull up onto soon, you’d both be dead. Then you spot it, a small alcove carved out of what you guessed was once a mountain peak.

With some help from the force you’re able to make it to the opening. A large wave hits and you push the Mandalorian up onto the ledge submerging yourself as you do. You break the water's surface again grasping desperately at the edge of the cave entrance. Another wave hits pushing you into the mountain face enabling you to latch your elbows on the edge using the last of your energy to push yourself up. Laying on your back you cough the last of the salt water out of your lungs.

“You alive under there Mando?” you ask, hitting his chest plate with the back of your hand. With no response you roll yourself over onto your stomach and push yourself up, if you were going to make it out of this alive you needed to move away from the water and get warm. Hooking your arms back under him you drag his limp body into the protection of the cavern. It was damp, but it would keep you away from the waves which was as good as you could hope for at the moment. You rest him against a wall, gently shaking him in hopes that it would wake him up.

You’re tempted to take the helmet off when he remains silent but remembering his creed you instead place two fingers up to his neck. After a brief moment of panic you manage to find a weak pulse. Then you hear him sputter causing water to run out and down his helmet. You let out a sigh of relief, but the moment passes quickly when you see that his entire body is shaking. Looking around you spot some driftwood that must have found its way in during another ocean surprise. Gathering some of it into a pile you remove the bag which was miraculously still attached to you. You rummage around it pulling out a flint rock you had packed. Striking it, you spark the kindling and you blow on the ember until it becomes a substantial flame.

Pleased with your work you turn back to the Mandalorian who was still unresponsive and now shaking even more fiercely. With the threat of hypothermia becoming an increasing concern and unable to wake him up you make a decision. You remove the heavy armour covering his body, starting with legs and working your way up, stopping at the neck and looking into the t-visor tilting your head. It was hard to imagine a living creature being under there, you opt to leave it where it is. You’re pretty sure he’d rather die than take it off. You peel off his outer layers. The cape, boots, socks, and pants were easy enough but getting the shirt over the helmet proved to be embarrassingly hard. With a little extra finesse you manage to wrangle it off him, glad he wasn’t awake to witness your struggle. You gather the clothes and lay them out neatly around the fire. If he ever woke up you hoped he’d forgive any indescration in terms of you breaking his creed in order to save his life. As you're laying out the last of his clothes the heat of the fire radiates off your skin causing you to realize how cold you were. You remove your own outer layers placing them near the fire before curling up next to it and dozing off.

Shortly thereafter, another vivid nightmare jolts you awake looking over to the fire you see it was beginning to snuff itself out. You move over to it gently blowing on the embers rekindling it into an open flame. It had helped the cave to become slightly warmer, but the overall dampness wasn’t helping the situation. You pick up more of the driftwood and light another fire hoping it would create enough heat to raise the temperature of the cave. As it takes form the emitted light flickers against the cave walls revealing its topography. You look to the Mandalorian whose slumped in the corner, the cave wasn't the only thing being illuminated by the fire. You hadn’t noticed in the chaos earlier but between the light of the fire and the shivering it was hard to ignore how well sculpted the bounty hunters body was. You guess all those years of carrying around armour as heavy as a Hutt had it perks. You indulge in his form for a brief second before reminding yourself of the dire situation at hand. The waves were still crashing outside, you prayed this biome would pass. You use the back of your hand to feel his neck, he was still cold.

You walk over to the clothes hoping something would be dry enough to wrap him up with. Most of them were still soaked, but whatever his cape was made out of must be fast drying. You thank the makers as you pick it up pressing it closely to your chest, it was warm you thought about keeping it for a few hours to warm yourself up, but you knew that was selfish. You make your way over to him and bend down so your face is level with him. You lean him forward resting his chest on your shoulder as you wrap the cloak behind him, evening it out before softly leaning him back against the wall. You’re just about finished securing the blanket around him when a hand grabs your wrist, startling you slightly.

“You’re cold” the modulator says quietly.

“I’m fine.” You say, but the shivers coursing through your body give you away.

“Take the cape” he says, still not moving, you don’t think he can yet, all those muscles were still probably atrophied.

“I’m not the one whose dying of hypothermia” you say gently removing his hand and re-wrapping the blanket over him.

“Then get under,” he says. You don’t respond not knowing what to make of that proposition.

“Don’t be impractical.” He strains.

“I’m not.” You whisper, absentmindedly still fitting the cloak around him.

“You are. We’re no use to anybody if we both freeze to death in this cave. Body heat will keep us alive.” You know he’s right, so without saying another word you open the cloak back up. He’s managed to part his legs and you sit down in the space provided, cautiously leaning back. You're surprised when he envelops the two of you in the cloak pulling you into him. When your skin touches his, there’s an instant heat, you don’t know whose more thankful for it. Eventually you lean your head back so it rests on his chest. You swear you can hear a faint snore coming from under the helmet and before you know it you're falling asleep to the sound of his heart beating.

You feel something warm across hit your face and you open your eyes to a beam of sun, causing you to squint. As they adjust to the lights of day, you stare out of the caves opening revealing tree tops and a vibrant display of birds flying between them. You guess the planet had reverted back to its original state. As your mind wakes up you take note of the ache of your entire body reminding you of the events from the day before. You go to stand so you can properly assess your current situation, but something pulls you back in. You look down, seeing a very tanned, very muscular forearm still tightly wrapped around your waist. You had completely forgotten that you had fallen asleep curled up with the half-naked Mandalorian last night.

Quietly, so as not to wake him, you remove yourself from his grasp, resealing the cloak around him as you do. He was worse off than you so he’d likely need more time to recover. You move towards the clothes laying on the floor near the smoked out pile of twigs. Pulling your over clothes back on you head down the cliffside in search of some supplies. The planet becoming an ocean at night meant the likelihood of any terrestrial species was low, but the lack of water damage on the imperial base suggested some parts may remain dry. That meant a possibility of finding food, but also the possibility of becoming something's meal. Either way you’d be foolish to wander back out into the unknown without a weapon.

Snapping a few branches off a nearby sapling you continue on in search of water ensuring the cave was never out of your sights. Snapping open a few vines you drink the water straight from it before filling up a water sachel to bring back to the Mandalorian. You make your way back up the cliff face, sitting down by the extinguished fires. Opening up the small bag you had packed you pull out a spool of dried sinew which you tie it to either end of the flexible branch standing up and stretching it to make sure it's functional before sitting back down and starting in on the arrows. After making half a dozen you stand up planning on heading back down in search of food.

“Leaving again” a familiar voice asks causing you to turn around

“How long have you been up?” you ask

“Woke up after you left.” He says, still propped up against the wall.

“I’m not going to re-dress you if that's what you’re waiting for” you say, lifting the bow over your head and down across your body. He gets up keeping the cloak tightly wrapped around him as he makes his way over to the clothes on the floor. You advert your eyes, not wanting to invade his privacy any more than you already had.

“Where do you think you’re going anyways?” He asks, reaching down for his pants and pulling them on.

“To get food, starving after dragging your heavy ass back here last night.”

“And you think you’re going to kill something with that” he asks, nodding to the bow you had made.

“only option, weapons were lost.” You retort. He gestures to his flamethrowers. “ We can’t eat something that's been incinerated. Stay here I’ll be back soon.”

“No we stay together.”

“Listen Mandalorian I…”

“Din.”

“What?”

“That’s my name, anyone who saved my life should know my name.” he says, putting on the last of his armour before bypassing you towards the drop off.

“Need a ride down?” he offers pointing to his jet pack.

“I prefer the old fashion way thanks.” You respond. He lands on the floor watching as you descend down the steep cliff top with ease.

“I have water if you need any, I promise I wont look” you say, offering him the satchel. He takes it allowing you to walk ahead of him so he can drink from it. After a few hours of silence he speaks up

“Thank you.”

“For what.”

“Saving me. You could have let me drown.”

“Thought about it” you say honestly, as you crouch down. “ Slinker tracks should make for an easy meal. Also means some of this planet must stay dry at night, let’s hope we parked the ship there.” You walk a few feet pushing back two large leaves revealing a grassy steppe where a herd of Slinkers were grazing.

“Give me the weapon, I’ll shoot it down.” He says.

“No you don’t know how to use it” you say. “Can’t have an innocent creature in pain because someone thinks he can use an old world weapon.”

“If I can use a blaster cannon I think I can handle a few twigs.” He says snatching it from you and aiming it at the small herd. You cross your arms and lean against a tree. Without the balancing technology outfitted in most bows his shot veres way off. To you this is the funniest thing in the galaxy and you burst into laughter causing the herd to scatter.

“Oh my makers.” You say not even attempting to hide your amusement.

“Are you laughing at me?” He asks, turning to face you.

“No never” you say, openly laughing.

“You are.” He says, you can’t tell if he’s annoyed, amused, embarrassed or a combination of the three.

“I'm sorry it's funny, the deadliest guy in the galaxy can’t hit a target unless he’s got his fancy technology. Now give it back.” You say opening your hands. As he hands over the weapon he notices the scarring on your palms left over from the day he’d first seen you fight.

“What are you going to eat now your obnoxious laugh has scared them off?” You draw the bow and shoot up into the trees. “Guess i'm not the only one who can't use it.” he mocks, but his smugness doesn't last long. After a few seconds a lantern bird drops down between the two of you.

“Like I said before, I never miss.” you kneel down over the creature placing your hand on it in a similar fashion to what he saw you do in the gladiator fights.

“What is that?” he asks curiously.

“You have your religion and I have mine.” You say.

“Do we have time to eat?” he asks

“Well if the planet turns into an ocean before we find the ship, I'll need my energy, you weigh more than a wookie in that armour” you pluck the animal bare, and kindle a small fire searing the meat. “You want some? I'll look away. You should probably eat. I seriously think you almost died last night.” He takes half the animal from you and the two of you eat back to back.

“We should get going.” You say standing up and putting out the fire.

“Any idea where we're going.”

“You know what Din, I think we’re close.” You say. Despite the Mandalorians' doubt you do manage to get the two of you back to the ship before nightfall. Approaching it you see Anya face deep in a large beast she must have taken down.

“Good little creature” you say bending over to pet her “thought we’d never find our way back to you.” Pulling out the piece of blanket from the kids carrier you offer it to the vulptice hoping the scent wasn’t washed away. You recreate the galaxy’s map, and Anya traces the scent to a different planet. You look to Din expectantly

“Nar Shaddaa, also known as Smuggler’s Moon” he says.

“You been?”

“Once or twice, big city planet, essentially a criminal underworld, lots of metal, you’ll hate it” he offers.

“You don’t know that” you say, packing up the rest of Anya’s kill before handing it up to the Mandalorian. You're about to lift yourself up when you see Din crouched down and his hand extended out to you.

“Come on,” he says. You take his hand and he pulls you up.

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.14

God’s Will and Fate’s Jokes

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)   x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 2900

Summary: Steve is not the only man out of time to be found in New York, Manhattan. And he sure as hell isn’t the only one struggling with what he’s done and lost.

Warnings: mentions of violence, guns and death, swearing, a bit of a talk about religion

A/N: Ah, you want to know how the reunion will turn out? Understandable… So I’m gonna insert a Bucky chapter, with fragments of how he had been. I promise two little cameos from a Netflix TV series in exchange though, so hopefully I can be forgiven.

Story masterlist

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The wind was gradually getting chillier with New York City further diving into autumn. Bucky readjusted his leather jacket to shield himself from it, but it was just a force of a habit. He had been frozen – several times, as he remembered now – and cold didn’t bother him for a while now. This was barely ‘cold’. His boots shuffled on the pavement with each step, a noise that seemed to drown in the busy streets.

The evening was slowly drifting into a night time, but in Manhattan, the streets never really fell into silence, always pulsing with life, sometimes calmer, mostly rapid though.

Bucky shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighed, stopping in front of the rather tall building – then again, this was New York, tall meant something different here – , his destination.

His mind was preoccupied, for the millionth time lost in the past; for a change, not in his own.

The fact he had been unfrozen during the decades gave him an advantage of being able to keep up with modern times; and there was nothing that couldn’t be found on the Internet, especially when one knew where and how to look, maybe even peak where others couldn’t for the lack of access or ability.

Then again, Captain America’s life story wasn’t exactly a heavily guarded secret and Bucky couldn’t decide whether he couldn’t believe his eyes while reading, or whether he actually wasn’t surprised at all when learning what his former best friend had been up to after he (and the rest of the world, for that matter) thought Bucky was gone.

He had dived a plane which was about to level New York and other great cities of America to the ground. Everyone thought he died, but instead, he was trapped in ice; Bucky prayed Steve had been unconscious the whole time, not feeling the biting cold. Then, the proclaimed war hero was found and been woken up seventy years to the future, throwing himself into a fight as soon as it was needed.

And wasn’t it damn necessary – aliens attacked the Earth. Bucky now remembered seeing a lot of weird inexplicable shit. But still, this? What the hell.

The thing was, despite that, Steve’s life wasn’t all bad. He became a part of a band of superheroes and… the punk finally found his soulmate, the one he could never find before, because she hadn’t been born yet, which was insane enough on its own. However, he seemed happy.

Naturally, it had to nosedive after that; the woman of his heart and soul was dead.

Some nuthead – and to Bucky’s rage, a nuthead Bucky knew, he had been part of Hydra, which he now hoped didn’t exist anymore, because he read about Pierce being locked up along with others – had murdered her in the worst possible way right in front of Steve.

If Bucky ever considered becoming a murder machine again, after everything he knew he had done, it was upon that revelation. He wanted that man’s head. He wanted to tear him limb from limb. He was a villain, sure, that need was natural, but he had hurt Steve on top of that. No one hurt Steve and got away with it.

Apparently, the man didn’t, because he was blown up along with everyone in the building minus Steve.

Still. If Bucky ever questioned whether he still had a heart, he was sure upon that realization; he did have one and it bled for his best friend.

He wished he could be there for him, but he wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he could even show up after everything his hands had done, no matter who forced them. He didn’t know if he could mug up Steve’s life even worse.

It was weeks now since he had been freed and his feet led him to a church – the one church where people said goodbye to Steve’s soulmate. Bucky had read about it too, her funeral; a small service for her friends and family, but many others wished to express their condolences, say thank you to the poor soul who lost her life to theirs and their loved ones and they chose this church to do so.

Bucky had figured he could pay his respects as well.

What he didn’t count on was the roller-coaster of emotions hitting him when seeing her picture, her smile radiant and brighter than the candles illuminating her photograph.

She was pretty, there was no denial. The photo printed was from Avengers’ archives, he read as much – Bucky had no doubt that it was Steve who put that bright smile, lighting up her eyes, on her face. He believed Steve had found true happiness with her and it wasn’t just because she was his soulmate or because Bucky watched the video evidence as she faced her death and showed great bravery and kindness or because he saw Steve’s desperation in the very same footage.

Bucky simply knew; the woman seemed to truly love Steve and that was all Steve ever needed. A woman to love him unconditionally.

Life was cruel and fucked-up to take that away from him.

No, Bucky didn’t count on the rage and heartbreak chasing tears into his eyes. Neither did he expect someone to pull him out of his musing.

“Did you know her, son?” an amiable male voice caused him to wince and mentally yell at himself for a dumb lack of awareness of his surroundings. Had it been a Hydra agent, Bucky would have been dead.

He forced himself to calm his sprinting heart, the rush of adrenaline unnecessary when the only person disturbing him was an old priest with nearly bald head and a soft soothing tone of voice.

His breath shuddered.

“No, Father. I didn’t.” I knew her soulmate, Bucky could have added, but he couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself; everyone knew who her soulmate was and it would lead to uncomfortable questions. Instead, Bucky’s mind supplied him with an easy lie. “But she had her life ahead of her, all of it. She must have been happy with her soulmate if he made her smile like this.”

The shorter man nodded, removing a candle that burned out from the altar with her picture – Bucky hadn’t noticed before with many others still warming up the space with their tiny flickering flames.

“Indeed. And she surely made him equally happy,” the priest hummed, sorrow darkening his face. His eyes carried a hint of curiosity, watching Bucky inconspicuously. ”It’s a shame for such joy to be stolen by madmen. Her soulmate… I pray for him as much as I do for her soul. Broken heart heals much longer than broken bones.”

No shit. Especially when it comes to supersoldiers with enhanced healing.

“Not wrong there,” Bucky whispered, hesitantly reaching out to the small metal basket with candles and a thin piece of wood to borrow the flame from another.

Bucky didn’t believe in God for almost seventy years now. Still, when the wick caught fire, he sent a silent prayer for both Steve and his gal.

“Still, you seem troubled by more than that,” the priest whispered and made a kind offer. “You could confide me in. It is what I am here for. Perhaps it would ease your sorrow.”

I don’t think so. Neither will it ease the craving after tearing a dead man’s head off.

“I don’t think you could help, Father, no offence. I’ve never been a good Catholic and lately even less so. And you sure don’t want to hear what troubles me.”

Despite a gentle nod of understanding, he nudged Bucky once more. At the very same moment, the soldier could hear the heavy door of the church open a crack and a man walk in with a periodic taping of a thin stick.

“I only wish to help you. If something of what you possibly have done heavies you… I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. I’m not allowed.”

“I believe you, Father. But I’m not sure your own conscience would allow you to keep quiet in my case,” Bucky admitted honestly, shifting under the presence of another man despite the fact he wouldn’t be able to hear them. A periodic tapping the man carried with him was getting to Bucky’s nerve already.

He should leave. Another lost soul seeking the help of a church was a good excuse anyway.

“Trust me, son. Whatever your sins are, I’m certain I have heard worse.”

“No, Father. You haven’t,” Bucky muttered under his breath, aware of the stranger getting closer.

He turned to him, surprised to find a man of such built, carrying a walking stick for blind. His stance and body was one of a fighter, even when cladded in a cheap suit, red-tinted glasses preventing his real thoughts from displaying on his face. He appeared blind but not quite. To Bucky, he was giving an impression of pretence, at least partial.

He could only wonder why; however, he could do so on his way out.

“I’m pretty sure he did,” the newcomer joined their barely audible conversation without permission and a scowl twisted the Father’s face.

The fact that the not-so-blind? man could hear what Bucky was saying had everything in Bucky scream fight or flight.

“Matthew. What brings you here at this hour?”

The suited man shrugged light-heartedly; Bucky didn’t believe him for a second. “I thought I’d stop by. See how you’re doing.”

“Always with the jokes, Matthew. It’s not decent.”

It wasn’t. Except if Bucky was more comfortable at the moment, he would have snorted in amusement. This man was clearly comfortable in his own skin, but the skin was a charade too. Bucky didn’t want to stay to crack the mystery though.

“Forgive me, Father, then.”

“Did you come to confess?” the Father continued and Bucky recognized this was as good opportunity to leave as any, making space for the blind man to approach the priest more easily.

A brief smile passed over the Matthew’s lips. “No. Like I said, only wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The backing out of the soldier was less inconspicuous this time, caught by the priest.

“You don’t need to leave, son. Matthew is a dear friend.” And there’s more to him than it seems, Bucky was certain.

Were his the sins Father had mentioned? This man’s? Bucky wouldn’t be surprised considering the dangerous vibe he was radiating.

“I’m Matt,” the man offered swiftly and held out his hand for Bucky to shake.

Bucky was stupid enough to accept it and really, wasn’t he out of his game to make such an idiotic mistake. “…James.”

“Rather hot for gloves, isn’t it?”

Bucky fought the urge to punch this man for pointing it out and took a deep breath.

“My past injuries can… make people uncomfortable when seen.”

“I won’t see them,” the blind man challenged with the light tone to his voice again, his head tilting to side and Bucky could see the corners of his mouth twitch. It gave him the impression of the man wanting sent him a wolfish grin.

And that was the time to get the fuck out. What was Bucky thinking anyway, showing up in here?

“Matthew… perhaps it would be for the best if we leave James to his prayers and have a talk over a latté, if you’re interested at this hour?” the priest offered in a conciliatory manner, beckoning to the back for Bucky’s benefit – or for Matthew’s too?

How deeply ran the lie, the pretending? Bucky didn’t want to hang around to find out.

“Yes…” Matt hesitated, but nodded. “Perhaps. James.”

“Matt. Father.”

Bucky strode between the two lines of the pews, kind words reaching his sensitive ears.

“My invitation still stands, if you ever feel like talking. If you’re not comfortable confessing the traditional way… there’s always coffee. Same rules apply for me.”

Bucky nodded, definitely not planning on taking him upon the offer. “I appreciate the offer, Father. Goodnight.”

Since fate was a cranky bitch, a night full of horrors of the past had him wandering the streets before the sun even began to rise to the horizon.

The Father didn’t seem overly surprised that Bucky showed up again, at such ungodly hour no less.

“James. Latté?” he asked, unfazed almost.

Bucky wanted to question his decision. But he was an old man, older than the priest himself and he could believe his secret would be kept.

He nodded.

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Opening to someone about the horrors he had lived through and had been a source of was surreal. No, scratch that, it was fucking weird and telling that to a priest was twisted and seriously messed up.

Yet, once Bucky started, he couldn’t stop the verbal vomit, his hands in his hair, tears welling up in his eyes and the hoarseness of his voice that seemed to be impossible to disguise.

And the whole time he talked, the man sitting opposite to him – not touching his latté either – listened intently with compassionate and understanding eyes full of sorrow and offering kind words and his own insights of a person watching the event from a reasonable distance, far enough not to get tangled in the emotional turmoil.

It caused Bucky’s breathing to turn so difficult that he thought he might actually suffocate, but he didn’t. He might be close to choking on his own spit though at priest’s forgiving words several times, words of redemption, a chance on it only proven by a mysterious man building miracles by a flick of a hand.

“You were a victim, James. Just like anybody else,” the Father explained his point of view slowly and with patience battling the one of saints themselves. “These are not your errors to carry with you like a burden. Forgive yourself. And allow your friend the same thing. I’m sure he could benefit from having someone by his side in a time difficult like this.”

Bucky gulped, looking away as he felt awkward burn in his eyes again, a lump in his throat never disappearing.

“I can’t. At least not yet, I’m-“

The sudden change of atmosphere was palpable, the safe environment carefully created by the priest vanishing at instant as Bucky’s instinct screamed about someone else’s presence in the church – someone else’s besides the God’s servants. His senses tingled, hairs rising at the back of his neck.

“Someone’s coming.”

Father Lantom seemed once again rather unfazed, his gaze shifting to his watch.

“Well, it is after six a.m., James.”

“Father-“ the soldier warned him breathlessly, otherwise rising to his feet soundlessly, sneaking to the door, opening them for a crack to glance at the newcomer that made his heart beat out of his chest.

One peek and he swiftly pressed his back to the wall, his head hitting it with a soft thud, eyes falling shut. Even with eyes closed, he could still feel the priest’s worried gaze.

“James?”

Bucky took a deep breath, arguing with his frantic mind and heart to calm the fuck down.

It was alright. He just needed to get the Father to cause diversion and he would sneak out, making no sound. He excelled at disappearing.    

“Go greet him, Father. Don’t tell him a word about having me here. Please.”

The desperate plea was enough to light up a flare of recognition in the priest’s eyes, no matter how hard it made him frown.

He sighed, sounding resigned.

“I cannot do that choice for you, James, even if I wished. I promise to keep quiet.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, beckoning to the other man to move.

The soldier stayed aligned with the wall, waiting for the right moment. It was killing him, freaking him out and yet luring him in, a mess of emotions, memories and possible scenarios of reunion playing out in his head, ranging from a fistfight to a hug even.

He needed to snap out of it.

He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Steven. What a nice surprise,” the priest greeted softly and Bucky barely contained the whine drawn to his lips. His hands curled up into fists and he bounced off of the wall, quickly assessing the most secure escape route. ”Do you require my assistance?”

“Not today, Father Lantom, but thank you.”

It was like a slap to Bucky’s face, a punch to his gut, hearing Steve’s voice; the melancholy in it and the burden he was never supposed to carry only making it worse.

For a second, Bucky wavered, faltering in his steps. His friend – former friend, still, his best friend – was right behind that door, needing someone and hurting and what was Bucky doing? Running away, like a coward?

“Are you alright?” the punk continued, expression concern for the not-exactly-older man and that was it. He caught a scent of something fishy right away.

Bucky’s mind yelled at him to get the hell out. His gaze returned to the door leading to a chamber and bathroom, hoping to find a small window. He crossed the distance in long quick steps.

“Yes, Steven, thank you. I simply have another troubled soul in the back room...”

Bucky slipped through the other door, finding what he wished for – an escape route. As he opened the window, taking care not to make the tiniest sound, Steve’s voice was slowly fading away.

“Don’t let me disturb you then, Father.”

By the time Father Lantom returned to the chamber, James Buchannan Barnes was gone. The priest only sighed in resignation; he more than half-expected it would come to that. He only hoped that the troubled soldier would find his way back eventually.

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Part 15

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So… am I? Forgiven? Please? I prooooomise the Steve/reader reunion will take place in the next chapter and it might actually be worth the wait ;)

Thank you for reading!