#really happy with how this last /major/ part of ash and dust is coming out

[halfwaydeepunofficial]

music asks!!

7 for sebastian and 10 for franklin

7. one song that encapsulates their view of the world

oooh!

before i say the song i would like to say that it's the only one i know from this musical. nic introduced it to me back in like 2020. but i think the best song i can think of that encapsulates his view of the world is "not a common man" from the american psycho musical. ...which i guess means that sebastian shares a worldview with patrick bateman? idk. i've never seen american psycho lol and i probably never will. i don't have the stomach for that, wbk.

anyways! the song is basically patrick bateman singing about how he has a god complex and the rules don't apply to him and he needs something beyond normal hedonism. that last part is sort of eh - sebastian does engage in a lot of hedonism - but what he truly wants is power. which i think is expressed well enough in the song.

10. one song that represents a core fear

ooooh honestly this is hard because most of the songs i associate with franklin are about general anxiety rather than specific fears. there are also some songs on his playlist that are adjacent to his fears, but aren't really about fear and really capture the spirit of a different emotion.

i think the song that comes closest is "dust and ashes" from natasha pierre and the great comet of 1812. (tangentially related fun fact: franklin loves russian classic novels! it's the biggest reason he's a comp lit major.) franklin does deeply fear dying, though i would say it's not something that he's constantly aware of the way many of his other fears are. i think even more than that, the reason "dust and ashes" resonates with him so much are the twin core ideas in the song of missing out on life, of dying before you fall in love or experience true happiness or are fulfilled, and the fear of not having been good enough during your life. he's especially afraid of that last one. he desperately wants to be good enough.

also honorable mention to "a complete list of fears ages 5-28", which is about being afraid of everything but especially losing the person you love. which is an incredibly franklin coded thing. but that song's been on nic's oc jasper's playlist since long before franklin was even created so like... the association runs too deep to really answer this ask with that song.

then again so has dust and ashes... maybe i should put complete list of fears on franklin's playlist anyway. he and jas are anxiety bros.

[hopelesshawks]

Am I....

Am I about to write subby Dabi?

[chisheya]

hanahaki disease [niragi x reader x chishiya] highschool au!

Summary: love is reckoned to make us powerful; not susceptible - as much as i tried to convince myself that. as much as i tried to stay strong; tough and heroic, enough to risk it all and let my emotions surge on the exterior. strong enough to be crushed yet again, to love and be loved again - knowing my fragility. 

 i’ve known the agony and lament sufficiently enough that it demolished my sanity, left my soul burning away, gradually fading into ashes and disappearing like dust under the moonlight’s breeze. and the funny unfunny part is - i wish i had told him, perhaps one day i will. 

‘‘I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. My love bloomed like a flower in my chest.’‘

Tag list: (if you want to be tagged, let me know because the previous post got deleted for some weird reason lol)

Word count: 2.5k

The sun's soft twinkles crawl over house rooftops, and in an early hour, despite it, it still felt like a chilly morning. Early as it is, the neighborhood was caught up with parents rushing with their children, some going to work, some even rushing late. Thankfully, the riots of youngsters were vetoed by the sound of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse playing through my earphones. I was deliberately walking down the alley on my way to school, gripping the hem of my uniform and cursing to myself that this skirt was of no use to at least keep my legs warm. 

The reckless gust reaching from my left side provoked me to jump out of my skin, revolting me from my daydream. 

‘’God's sake-’’ I turn my head only to see Chishiya standing next to me, with a smirk on his lips. The sudden view of him caused me to blush, as my brain screamed oh-look-your-crush. Although you could rarely see this guy smiling and being friendly, his agenda was incompatible. Clever, crucial, and cunning as he is, he always had a special place in my heart. Why, you ask? I'd love to know that too... Maybe because he has been my friend since forever. 

''You must be that cold, huh,'' Chishiya says sarcastically. ''Y-yeah.'' I murmur, ''anyway, again one of early practicals at the hospital today?'' ''Correct.''

''Yikes,'' I add, clicking my tongue, ''good luck.''

''Have you decided if you'll stay here in Tokyo?'' Chishiya pops a question, clearing his throat, as his face remains immersed on the boulevard in front of us. ''Huh, what do you mean?'' I add, looking up at him, wishing he'd look back at me. But he never does... 

''For university.'' ''Oh, that,'' is all I say, before taking the next few seconds to think what to proceed with, ''yeah, Tokyo - I guess, still not sure yet.''

''It better be Tokyo or I'm disowning you.'' He says in a stern voice, delivering it with a smirk as he quickly runs his hand through my hair, resulting in becoming a mess.

''Hey!'' I chuckle, about to return the favor but he succeeded to grab my wrist and stop me just on time. Shucks.

Chishiya and I have been friends since childhood, as our dads have been friends since their early school days as well. He's in his third year in med school and I'm about to graduate in less than a month and enter university in few months. Not to mention, living close enough in the same neighborhood visiting Shuntaro's family every Sunday for dinner was a ritual that my dad, Aguni, and I couldn't stop doing. My mother has had enough of Tokyo so she decided to leave for England. Yeah, pretty simple...it has only been dad and me since. Not like I regret staying with dad, and if there was the father that would win The Dad of the Year award, it would be him. Playing cards meanwhile drinking wine was a post-dinner ritual for our dads, later through time, Chishiya joining them as well. In most cases, I'd end up just observing how they play and anticipating who's going to win. From Aguni being the best to, Shuntaro's dad, a few years later as Chishiya evolved enough his cunning games he beat them in it. He became a card game master, no jokes. 

I didn't notice it has come for the time for us to go different paths, as my school was in the complete opposite direction.

''So,'' I murmur, stopping and turning to face him, ''I guess time to say goodbye.''

''Good luck, kid.'' He says, giving me a soft smile. Ah, if he only knew how something so insignificant and minor to him has such a consequence on my heart. But he never will though. As I know, what we are and what we are not. 

I just smiled as I watch him turn his back on me and leave first. He always leaves first. I stayed few more seconds as his figure slowly fades of to distance I get ready to go my way.

                                                        ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

 After the last class, I choose to go to a nearby library to catch up on some assignments. The library is a soft of the enormous coffee shop yet one can stay all day and feel good even if one buys nothing at all. That's the discrepancy. It is a place of welcome for everyone rather than for "customers." This is not a money-nexus venue yet a love-nexus space, and that makes it a real treasure in this city.

I was relinquished and dazzled by the book in front of me, until the moment someone’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts.

''Since classes are over, want to grab lunch?'' I feel a hand placing softly on my left shoulder as a soft boyish voice peaks behind me.

''Niragi,'' my lips stretch in a smile as I embrace my best friend in a hug, ''of course, you mind if Chishiya tags along as well?''

''Oh,'' he mouths, providing it with a vague look, as I feel him stiffen up a bit and breaking the hug before proceeding, ''Chishiya..too?'' 

''Yeah!'' 

''Sure,'' he says, providing it with a soft smile, ''definitely..'' 

''Great, I'll let him know then.'' 

                                                        ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

Niragi and I walked after school side by side, on the way to Shibuya where we agreed to meet up with Chishiya. As we have arrived early, we stand by a big poster advertisement. I gently lean my back onto it, facing the industrious avenues of Shibuya wandering with people. Niragi, leaning as well, right next to me. 

''So, have you decided? Is it going to be Tokyo or London?'' 

''Hm,'' I murmur as his question breaks me out of my trance, ''regarding studies?'' He nods. 

''Honestly, not sure,'' I hesitate, before proceeding, ''but I'd love to stay in Tokyo.'' This was not a lie, but London on the other hand, was just an excuse in case my health gets worse. An agreement was made with my dad that it'd be best to stay there with my mom and focus on getting better. 

''Tokyo.'' I sigh, still caught up thinking what if I have to end up having to go back to London. What do I do then? And more importantly, what do I tell them? The minor, simple thought of lying to the people I deeply care about stings. 

''And you?'' 

''Tokyo,'' he says softly while looking down, smiling - as the thought if he had something that binds him to dwell in this city, ''I already got accepted in for game engineering.'' 

I knock him softly on top of his head, standing on my tippy toes. Though he was portrayed as the delicate and sweet guy he is, he was taller than both Chishiya and me. 

''Ouch,'' he exclaims as his hand rests on top of his head, my action catching him off guard, ''why did you do that?'' 

''Why haven't you told me, little idiot?'' 

''I planned to,'' he giggles, a wide smile as I've never seen scattering across his delicate features, ''I was waiting for you to confirm you got in your desired major as well.'' 

Yeah, I have, Niragi. It's just that I might not even be able to go because of my health. The phrases, the verdict, that I desired I could have mouthed out. But I couldn't, not now. Not when we're about part ways, and the way I want to remember these recollections is by them as their happy-selves, us cycling through alleys of Tokyo, eating noodles in the park during chilly nights, by city lights as the background noise of crickets was vetoed by our laughter. The recollections, moments I'll protect in my psyche permanently. 

I just remained silent, looking at my friend as he was smiling and looking off to distance till he started waving to someone. I shift my gaze only to see Chishiya's figure approaching us, hands in his pockets as usual. 

''Hello there, peasants.'' Chishiya teases, as he finally approaches us.

''Excuse me, lord Shuntaro.'' Niragi scoffs at him, crossing his arms.

''So where will we head to?'' 

''Whoa, Morizono, not even embracing your friend in a warm hug and you're already talking about eating,'' Chishiya says falsifying pain in his voice, ''I'm hurt.''

 ''Chishiya,'' I let out, rolling my eyes at his statement, ''I know you don't do hugs.'' I proceed, nudging his forearm slightly, hoping that the warmth I felt growing in my cheeks wasn't showing. 

''Fuunji or Ichiran Shibuya?'' Niragi says, clicking his tongue. 

''Fuunji,'' I mutter, at the same time as Chishiya adds, ''Ichiran.'' Our eyes met instantly as we both realized our choices were different.

Do I have to mention that I'm probably already blushing? No, because heck - yes I am. 

Oh boy, here we go. Let him have his way, Y/N. 

As you always do. 

''You know what, let's go to Ichiran,'' I exclaim, looking in between my best friends waiting for them to agree. 

''Ichiran it is,'' Niragi exclaims. 

A little while later, our food has finally arrived. The moment it lands on the table, Niragi digs at his sweet and sour soup and pulls out all the cubes of carrot. I don't say anything, I really couldn't care less about table manners and there's always something interesting going on in his head. Chishiya calm and collected as he is, starts eating at a slow pace. After swallowing his first bite, he breaks the silence, ''we must go somewhere to celebrate your birthday, Y/N.'' 

''I'm not sure-''

Niragi peeks up at me with sticky fingers in his mouth. Meanwhile, Chishiya adds, through the mouthful, that I could just about make out the name "Kyoto."

As my mouth was full of food as well, I just nod seriously. 

"That's a great idea, Chishiya. I never thought of that." Niragi grins, still with the fingers in his mouth, then he scoops them up and lines them neatly next to his stocking.

Chishiya holds out a cup of soju, "for Y/N." Niragi's hand comes over and snatches it up, his grin as wide as his cheeks will stretch, and scatters back.

Chishiya and I just exchanged looks, laughing at his silliness.

We drank soju, we were already merry and full, we told the most terrible of jokes. That was us. Casual, informal, yet caring enough to make the time we spend together joyful. 

                                                         ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

After grabbing lunch with Chishiya and Niragi, I headed straight home. The thought of visiting Kyoto for my birthday with them was still bouncing on my mind. The thing is, how to bring it up to Aguni? Hm? As loving and fond as he is of both of them, the thought of sending his only daughter away with two boys on a trip probably sounded far away from a brilliant idea. Sigh, I guess it'll take a lot to convince him. 

''Dad, I'm home!'' I exclaim, meanwhile closing the doors behind me and taking off my shoes in the hallway. 

''Someone's back home early, huh?'' Aguni says chuckling, as he plants a soft kiss on my forehead. 

''Yup, something smells delightful,'' I say, meanwhile slapping my hands in excitement and taking my seat. 

''Ah, you sneaky,'' He adds, taking the seat as well across me, ''it's your favorite - pad thai chicken wok.'' 

''So,'' I began, meanwhile randomly picking food with chopsticks in my plate, ''I have a question.'' 

''Yes?'' Aguni murmurs, mouthful, gazing up at me. ''So you know that my birthday is next week...'' I say awkwardly, placing my chopsticks gently on the table. 

''Of course, how would I forget my daughter's birthday?'' He scoffs, butthurt that his daughter thinks he's that forgetful. 

''No, of course not.'' I chuckle, ''but I did want to ask you something, uh...'' 

''Go ahead, silly.'' 

Just say it. Now or never. And I do - ''I've been thinking of visiting Kyoto with Chishiya and Niragi-'' 

''Not happening.'' 

''But-'' 

''You? On a trip? With two boys?'' his voice stern as he glares up at me, causing me to swallow, ''you must be out of your mind to think I'll let you, Y/N. Boys your age are wild.'' 

''No, there's going to be more of other friends...too, from school.'' I start, slightly panicking as I was also trying to think of the ways to get him to approve, ''not just Chishiya and Niragi, although you know they're my closest friends.'' I proceed further, looking around the food on the table, as I noticed he has almost cleared out his plate, and yet there was still chicken left in mine. Splendid, a perfect way to bribe him now.

''Plus,'' I mutter, as I start taking out the chicken from my plate, putting on his, his eyes now fully focused on that chicken, ''I know you trust them enough to protect me if anything happens, right?'' I grin, awkwardly. 

''Only because they are aware who's your father and someone not to mess with.'' He adds, still not convinced enough, but still taking the small pieces of chicken with his chopsticks. 

''Uh, yeah,'' I murmur, as I watch him, eating up those last few pieces of chicken as if they are his last, ''beside your protectiveness, what do you think?''

''Y/N, you've forgot one thing.'' Aguni says with a serious tone, placing down his chopsticks. 

''What?'' I question, acting dumb. Expecting him to answer, he just remains silent and gives me an even worse glare now, ''doctor's appointment,'' I add, ''come on, it doesn't have to be next week as well. Just check with them if they can postpone it.''   

He preserves silent, still staring up at me with a serious look on his face. Sigh.

''A trip with my friends is more important. Not to mention, it's our last as we're all parting ways soon because of university.''  

''To you. But to me, your health is more important Y/N.''

''I...understand, dad,'' I sigh, looking up at him, falsifying a smile, ''but look at me, I'm feeling fine. I've never been better.''

''Same as you claimed in the past, until it happened again and I was close to losing you forever.'' He asserts, this time his voice louder than before.

''Dad...cheer up,'' I exclaim, as I reach out my hand, placing it on top of his, ''it's...just because it happened then, doesn't mean it will happen again.''

''You don't know that. Your condition is serious-''

''I'll take care of myself. Alright?'' I murmur, squeezing his hand, ''please, can I go?''   

''Alright, alright. Under one condition, take care of yourself and as soon as you get back we're going to the doctors. Promise?''

''I promise.'' I holler, lunging from my seat to hug him before storming off to my room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I lean my back on it. 

There was an eerie sentiment I felt within, a good sort though - just not sure for what exact reason yet. It felt like it was the calling card of an adventure, paths awaiting, what will transpire. Whatever was ahead could be a great challenge, and there could be tears, but it was an exploration to take and so I smiled. The inklings would come, perhaps when I’d least expected it, so I’m ready to take this leap of faith.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH20

The battle in this chapter has a lot of references. Can you name all of them? ;) You can see our new heroine’s design here!

Previous     First     Next    AO3

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Chapter 20: my tears ricochet

“Is everything okay, Marinette?” Tikki poked her head out of Marinette’s shirt collar.

The subway station was quiet save for a few other waiting passengers, too absorbed in their phones to notice the girl talking to her small magical friend. Marinette took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, “I just can’t believe it’s finally over.”

“Don’t you think it’s wrong to seek revenge? What if Lila gets akumatized again because Ladybug exposed her?” Tikki asked with a worried frown.

“Normally, I’d say yes, but it’s about time someone set the record straight,” Marinette said as the subway car pulled up. “Look, I won’t talk about it ever again as Ladybug or Marinette. It’s over now. We’ll just stay on the lookout for the next few days.”

Tikki sank back into Marinette’s shirt without another word, though her frown persisted. Taking a seat on the train, Marinette leaned her head back with a sigh. It had been nearly a month since Marinette changed schools, and she’d done her best to put the past behind her. From the moment she left, she didn’t want anything to do with Lila, but it was too late to take back the interview now. The truth was finally out there, and it was unlikely that Lila would be able to lie her way out of this one. Everyone was free.

When the train arrived at her stop, Marinette followed the crowd of people and pushed the whole ordeal from her mind. What was done was done, and Lila had no power over her anymore. Marinette had often wondered what this day would feel like. Truthfully, it wasn’t as relieving as she thought it would be. Maybe removing herself from the situation lessened the impact, but Marinette felt nothing but apathy. A small part of her was glad to be done with it, but the majority of her just didn’t care about Lila anymore. She’d made new friends, and she was in the process of making one more.

Gabrielle averted her gaze when Marinette entered the café, just like she always did. Marinette had programmed Gabrielle’s work schedule into her calendar, and she’d been making it a point to stop by when she could. Although Gabrielle tried to hide it, Marinette could tell that she was happy to see her.

“Does this count as harassment?” Gabrielle asked, setting Marinette’s usual order on the table.

“Only if you want me to stop,” Marinette said.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and smiled. “You’re such a dork. No wonder I used to pick on you.”

“That’s not a no,” Marinette said pointedly.

“You’re so annoying,” Gabrielle sighed, stalking back to the counter.

Marinette bit back a smile, retrieving her sketchbook from her bag while Gabrielle tended to other customers. The café was cozy and secluded enough that Marinette could work freely while also keeping an eye on Gabrielle. Her deadline was only a few days away, and she’d already taken time out to help Adrien.

Adrien…

He went behind her back to stop Lila. She’d been so touched in the moment, that she agreed to help without really thinking. But he’d gone against everything he believed in for her. Not Ladybug, not Chloe, not even his best friend. For Marinette. How could she resist? The moment Adrien said he needed Ladybug, she couldn’t help herself. It was selfish, but if he called, she’d always come running. And as it turned out, Adrien was quietly doing the same for her all along. It was kind of romantic in a way.

But what did that make them? Were they dating? Neither one of them had confessed their true feelings, but it was obvious they both really cared for one another. Adrien wouldn’t have teamed up with Chloe if he didn’t feel something for Marinette. Being mean wasn’t in Adrien’s nature—it was one of the many things she loved about him. He had to be in love with her now. There was no other explanation.

Marinette pressed her lips together, tracing hearts along the edges of her sketch. She would tell Adrien how she felt after her presentation with Clara. No chickening out this time. Just her honest feelings and hopefully Adrien’s soft lips and silky golden hair, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, and those strong arms wrapping around her-

“What’s that for?” Gabrielle snapped Marinette from her trance, replacing the cold cup Marinette had long forgotten about with a fresh one.

“Oh, uh, just some designs I’ve been playing with,” Marinette said. “Actually, will you tell me what you think?”

Gabrielle quirked a brow, spinning the sketchbook around to get a better look while Marinette sipped her coffee. She’d narrowed it down to three sketches, and Gabrielle studied them thoughtfully.

“I think the skirt on this one could puff out more, and I think this one would look better if you made it slouch off the shoulder,” Gabrielle said, “but that’s just my opinion.”

“No, that’s really helpful. Thank you.” Marinette smiled.  

Gabrielle shifted her weight and mumbled, “Your designs are really good.”

Marinette beamed, but before she could reply, a loud boom shook the café, knocking over cabinets and cups. Gabrielle and Marinette rushed outside to find the source as several passing people ran away from the scene.

“Lila,” Marinette murmured under her breath.

“What?” Gabrielle turned to her.

“I said it must be an akuma,” she said quickly. “We should probably evacuate.”

“As if my boss will let me leave. This place could burn down, and he’d still expect me to show up and sweep the ashes.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “You go.”

Another crash rattled the street, shattering the windows of every parked car along the block. Marinette shielded her face from the debris, Gabrielle taking a defensive stance in front of her. Locking eyes with the villain, Marinette’s blood ran cold.

Lila hadn’t been the one to get akumatized, but the girl staring back at her was all too familiar. Her suit was red and black with spots resembling Ladybug’s on the bodice. Long red hair was tied back into a ponytail, once hazel eyes now scarlet. Her ex-best friend looked at her with utter disdain.

“You…” Her eyes narrowed.

“Alya?” Marinette gasped.

“You two know each other?” Gabrielle quirked a brow.

“She and I used to be…” Marinette lowered her gaze.

“Used to be what, Marinette? Bffs?” The akuma snarled. “Or maybe you’d like to forget that!”

With a swipe of her phone, a purple beam shot toward them. Gabrielle tackled Marinette to the ground, avoiding the blast by an inch. Gabrielle’s manager came out to see what the fuss was about, and the beam engulfed him. He blinked a few times, looking around at the café in confusion.

“Where am I? Better yet, who am I?” he groaned.

Gabrielle pushed Marinette away, eyes wide. “Run!”

“What about yo-”

“Just go!” Gabrielle shouted.

“Oh, she’s not going anywhere.” The akuma swiped her phone screen again, pointing it up to the sky. Storm clouds materialized, and large chunks of hail rained down. “I’m not your bff anymore, Marinette. My name is Ladyblogger, and I can use any power I want! I’m going to expose the truth to everyone once and for all!”

Gabrielle grabbed the coffee pot from her manager and hurled it at Ladyblogger. She took Marinette’s hand, and the two raced up the street.

“This way!” Gabrielle ducked into an alley. She lead Marinette through a private courtyard, down another side street, and across to another alley before stopping. “Take this street, and you should be able to make it home from there.”

“Where will you go?” Marinette asked.

“I should get back to the café. I doubt my manager’s amnesia will last long. You should get somewhere safe.” She shoved Marinette on, heading back in the direction they came.

“Gabrielle?” Marinette called, and she turned over her shoulder. “Thanks. You saved me.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Now go!”

Marinette bit back a smile as she raced up the alley. Her suit materialized before she made it to the other end, and she tossed her yoyo into the rooftops. Any warmth she’d felt from Gabrielle’s selflessness faded the moment Ladybug touched down on the scene. Chat Noir arrived at the same time she did.

“Looks like the ‘heroes’ decided to show up,” Ladyblogger said with air quotes. “Or should I even call you that anymore? The only people you seem to protect these days are ones with egos the size of monuments!”

“Alya, listen to me! Lila is manipulating you,” Ladybug said.

“You’re one to talk about manipulation. How’s your bff Chloe these days? Or is it actually Marinette?” Ladyblogger shot another beam from her phone, but Chat Noir and Ladybug dodged. The attack hit Gabrielle’s manager again, snapping out of his confusion only to be transformed into a Ladyblogger look alike.

“Wow, for a journalist, you seem to have a hard time swallowing the truth,” Chat Noir said.  

Ladyblogger swiped blasts from her screen, and Ladybug and Chat Noir dodged between them, charging in to strike. Chat Noir’s staff phased through Ladyblogger, and he stumbled several paces before regaining his balance. She smirked at him, lifting her finger from the screen and regaining tangibility just in time for Ladybug to land a hit.

The two grappled, dodging each other’s swipes and jabs. Ladyblogger phased in and out of tangibility, striking Ladybug with purposeful blows. When Ladybug finally landed a hit, Ladyblogger simply smiled. Her aura glowed, and she took Ladybug’s wrist, tossing her effortlessly into her partner across the street.

They rolled across the pavement, limbs tangling around each other. Chat Noir immediately helped her to her feet, dusting himself off. “Okay, is it just me, or are her powers super random?”

“I don’t think they are,” Ladybug said. “She’s using abilities we’ve fought before. I think she’s using powers from old akumas.”

“Not just akumas.” Ladyblogger corrected, tapping her screen. “Cataclysm!”

She charged at them, fist glowing with black energy. Ladybug and Chat Noir jumped out of the way, and Ladyblogger swiped the streetlamp, reducing it to a pile of ash.

“Okay, so you can copy our powers too,” Chat Noir said.

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed on Ladyblogger’s screen, an inverted version of her blog theme with icons for each power available to her. “Her blog!” she gasped. “She can use powers of anyone—hero or villain—that she’s reported about on her blog!”

“You always were a smart one,” Ladyblogger said. “So, how come you can’t see through all of the lies people keep feeding you?”

“She’s not the one that needs to open her eyes.” Chat Noir shot back.

Ladyblogger summoned another Cataclysm, punching the ground and sending a shockwave rippling up the street. Ladybug and Chat Noir jumped up to the roof to avoid it.

“Got a plan?” Chat Noir asked.

“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug summoned, and a deck of playing cards materialized.

“Up for a riveting game of poker? We can wager our Miraculouses for her akuma,” Chat smarmed.

“No…” Ladybug studied the logo on the box. “I have to go. Maybe you can annoy her to death with your jokes before I get back.”

“Purrhaps she’ll be a better sport than you.” Chat Noir winked. “Just don’t keep me waiting too long. Even this cat will run out of jokes eventually.”

Ladybug flicked his bell before racing off. Ladyblogger could mimic the power of anyone so long as she’d written about them on her blog, so Ladybug needed a power she hadn’t seen before.

“Master!” Marinette burst through the door. “Chat Noir and I are fighting an akuma, and I need to borrow a Miraculous.”

Master Fu set aside his book. “Then let’s not waste any time.”

He retrieved the Miracle Box from its hiding place and presented it to her. Marinette surveyed her options carefully. The mouse could work, but she wasn’t sure it was the one they needed. Then there was the monkey, but that could confuse things even more. She needed something stealthy. Something like…

“Do you have someone in mind?” Master Fu asked as she grabbed the tiger gauntlet.

“I think I just might.”

♪♫♪ Bad Blood ♪♫♪

Ladybug found Gabrielle sweeping broken glass outside the café. The street was quiet and long since evacuated. Chat Noir and Ladyblogger relocated to the Trocadero, but Gabrielle stayed behind, waiting for everything to go back to normal. She quirked a brow when Ladybug approached.

“I’m going to assume since I’m still here sweeping glass that you haven’t defeated the akuma?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Ladybug admitted. “I need a little help. Think you’re up for it?”

“Why do you need my help? Don’t you have a passel of super-freaks on speed dial?” Gabrielle grunted, returning to her sweeping.

“I do, but… how would you like to be one of them?” Ladybug offered, and Gabrielle froze.

“For real?” she asked, eyes glinting with intrigue that extinguished just as quickly as it lit. “Why me?”

“Didn’t you watch my interview earlier?” Ladybug cocked a hip. “I’m always looking for new partners, and I saw how you helped your friend earlier.”

“We’re not really friends,” Gabrielle said, but when Ladybug gave her a disbelieving smirk, she sighed. “Okay, fine. She’s annoying, but whatever, I guess she’s my friend. I just don’t see how that has anything to do with me becoming a superhero. You obviously don’t know me very well, but let’s just say I’m not exactly the hero type.”

“Don’t you want to be?” Ladybug asked, and when Gabrielle averted her gaze, she added, “Look, I didn’t think I was superhero material at first either, but being Ladybug helped me realize I’m more capable than I think. You have an opportunity to do something good. Isn’t that what you want?”

Gabrielle lowered her gaze, tapping her nails against the wooden handle. Pressing her lips together, she squared her shoulders and let the broom fall to the ground.

“Gabrielle Burton, this is the Miraculous of the Tiger, which grants you the power of invisibility. You will use it to fight for the greater good.” Ladybug recited, presenting her with a small box. “Once the battle is over, you will return it to me. Can I trust you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes and took the box, barely flinching when Roarr manifested.

“Hello there! My name is Roarr, and I’m a-”

“We don’t have time for that. My job doesn’t pay me enough to fight supervillains, so let’s just get this over with.” Gabrielle cut him off. “Now, how does this thing work?”

Ladybug flashed him an apologetic grin, and he flicked his tail. “To transform, all you have to do is say ‘Roarr, transform me,’” he said without any fanfare.

“Cool.” Gabrielle slipped on the gauntlet. “Roarr, transform me!”

Gabrielle caught on quick, following behind Ladybug without need for explanation. If Marinette had learned anything about Gabrielle, it was that she was straightforward and to the point. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that she was guarded around Ladybug. Marinette was still breaking through some of those walls herself, but she truly believed that Gabrielle could be a good hero if she tried.

When they arrived at the Trocadero, Gabrielle cracked her whip before Ladyblogger could ready another attack. Seeing Ladybug with a new ally must have struck a nerve because Ladyblogger let out a frustrated growl. Chat Noir rushed in but slammed into an invisible wall. Ladyblogger tugged an invisible cell door shut with a smile, but Gabrielle didn’t leave her much time to gloat.

“Who’s the new pet?” Ladyblogger called. She and Gabrielle sparred while Ladybug checked on Chat Noir.

“Obviously, someone she trusts more than you.” Gabrielle retorted. They locked hands, glaring each other down.

“It seems that Ladybug is employing a lot of mean girls, these days. Falling on hard times?” Ladyblogger grunted, hiking a leg to knee Gabrielle in the gut. “You must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel. Looks like your little tigress needs some more training.”

Ladyblogger struck again, but Gabrielle caught her wrist, redirecting her down the stairs. As Ladyblogger stumbled to the bottom, Gabrielle cocked a hip.

“Tigress, I kind of like that. I think I’ll keep it,” she said.

Ladyblogger scrambled to her feet as Ladybug and Chat Noir flanked Tigress. Her attention turned to the news station helicopter hovering over the Trocadero to catch all of the action.

“Let’s see if the rookie is really up to snuff,” Ladyblogger said, tapping her screen again. “Venom!”

“No!” Ladybug shouted.

Ladyblogger jumped, clearing the distance to the helicopter easily. With a light tap, the pilot froze in place, and Ladyblogger hopped out the other side as the plane spiraled into a tailspin.

“Chat Noir, Tigress, get everyone out!” Ladybug ordered.

Her partners sprang into action while Ladybug hooked her yoyo around the streetlamps. Tigress took care of Nadja while Chat Noir carried the pilot and cameraman. They got out just as the helicopter landed in Ladybug’s net. Her feet skidded against the concrete, bearing the weight of the aircraft as she gently lowered it to the ground.

“Hey, Bugheads! Ladyblogger here, and do I have the scoop for you!” A large camera broadcast their efforts to every screen in Paris, and Ladyblogger watched in amusement. “Always playing the hero, but only for those she deems worthy of saving. Hasn’t anyone ever wondered if the girl under the mask is really as nice as we all think?”

“Thanks, Ladybug,” Nadja said as Tigress set her down.

“Get somewhere safe,” Ladybug ordered.

The pilot groaned and rubbed his head, free from Venom’s sting. Ladybug eyed him with a pensive frown as the reporting crew scrambled to safety.

“Any ideas?” Chat Noir asked.

“Forming one,” Ladybug replied. “It looks like she can only use one power at a time, so when she switches to a new one, the effects of the old one wear off—like closing an app on a phone.”

“Okay, so what does that mean for us?” Tigress crossed her arms over her chest.

“It means we have to keep her moving,” Ladybug said, palming her yoyo. “Lucky charm!”

A catcher’s mitt landed in her hands, and Chat Noir quirked a brow.

“Great, so we can invite her to play catch,” he said.

Ladybug glanced around singling in on Tigress, Chat Noir’s staff, and her glove. A smile broke over her lips. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do, but we’re going to do it my way. Chat Noir, you and I are going to keep Ladyblogger busy while Tigress sneaks in.”

Chat Noir nodded without a second thought, but Tigress shot Ladybug a skeptical look. “Are you sure this is gonna work?”

“This isn’t even her most convoluted plan.” Chat Noir shrugged.

“And now the superheroine has summoned her last resort. I think it’s time everyone learned the truth about Paris’s savior. Coming up next, we’re going to take her Miraculous and find out what kind of person is hiding behind the mask! Stay connected, Bugheads.” Ladyblogger ended her broadcast and swiped to a new power. “Let’s see which one of us has more luck, Ladybug. Lucky Charm!”

Ladyblogger caught the rocket launcher with a sinister laugh, taking aim at the band of heroes. When she pulled the trigger, they dispersed, splitting up in three different directions.

“Camouflage!” Tigress whispered.

Ladybug and Chat Noir wasted no time drawing Ladyblogger’s attention, dodging past missiles as they closed in. They took turns taking jabs and kicks, and with closer proximity, Ladyblogger abandoned her weapon in favor of a different power. Light beams shot from her screen with each swipe of her fingers, transforming streetlamps and benches into hard black lumps.

“Coal? But I’ve been so good this year!” Chat Noir taunted.

“I used to think you two were so great, but now I see you for who you really are! You’re not heroes, you’re just two little kids playing dress-up for attention,” Ladyblogger said.

“You know what? You’re right,” Ladybug said. “Just keep all of your attention on us.”

“It shouldn’t be hard. I am pretty good-looking.” Chat Noir flexed his biceps.

Ladyblogger’s eyes narrowed, but before she could make her next move, her arms pinned to her sides. An invisible force wrestled her to the ground, kicking her phone from her grasp in a direct pitch to Chat Noir.

Tigress materialized on top of her, pulling her whip tight. “Looks like Hawkmoth should have trained you a little more,” she said.

“Batter up!” Chat Noir called, swinging his baton.

Ladybug caught the phone in her mitt easily and stomped it under her foot, releasing the black butterfly from inside.

“No more evil-doing for you, little akuma. Looks like she struck out.”

Tigress stood up as Ladybug’s magic healed the city. When Alya came to, Ladybug crouched beside her, presenting her repaired phone.

“I know you’re hurt and confused, but I promise that everything I said earlier is true,” Ladybug said. “You’re a smart girl, Alya. The truth is right in front of you if you look for it.”

Alya searched her expression, lips pressing into a firm line. “Why should I believe you?”

“Seriously? After everything Ladybug has done for this city, you’re going to blow her off just like that? Some journalist you are,” Tigress grunted, flipping her braid over one shoulder.

“Tigress-”

Alya’s jaw clenched. She snatched her phone from Ladybug’s grasp and stood up. “So these are the kind of people you replace real heroes with? I thought one drama queen was a coincidence, but I’m starting to think you just have a type,” she said. “You’re right. I am smart—smart enough to see when someone isn’t who they say they are. So from now on, I’m no longer your fan, Ladybug, and I’m going to expose the truth to everyone!”

Tigress averted her gaze as Alya stormed off. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” Ladybug said. Her heart sank watching Alya walk away from her for the second time. “She already made up her mind.”

♪♫♪ Far From Heaven ♪♫♪

“You okay, Al?”

Alya peeked at her boyfriend over the pillow she was hugging to her face, tears streaking her cheeks. Nino sat on the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms. Alya nestled into his neck and allowed his warmth to thaw the cold ache in her chest.

“I saw your blog post. Are you really done with Ladybug?” Nino asked.

Alya flicked her gaze to her phone resting on the bed, her latest post on the Ladyblog displayed on the screen. She might have gone too far with it, but she didn’t care. Ladybug wasn’t who Alya thought, and the world needed to know that their beloved heroine wasn’t so loving.

“After everything I’ve done for her, all the time I spent proving to her how trustworthy I was, and she just replaced me without even saying anything. Then she’s out there being best buddies with Chloe?” Alya’s voice cracked. “How could she do that?”

Nino pursed his lips, and Alya leaned her cheek against his chest, breathing him in. She didn’t blame him for not having an answer because neither did she. In only a few weeks, her entire world had been flipped on its head. Losing Marinette had hurt enough, but now she couldn’t even believe in the people she revered most. Were all superheroes just pretending to be nice? Or did they all have a Chloe Bourgeois behind the scenes pulling the strings? And what was Marinette’s role in all of this? Was all of it really her fault? Alya didn’t know what to believe now.

“Maybe you should take some time away from your blog. I think it might be good to put some distance between you for a while.” Nino suggested, kissing her temple. “At least while you’re hurting, I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be around all that. Take some time to clear your head.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” Alya picked up her phone, thumb lingering over the home button, but she couldn’t bring herself to press it.

Nino was right. Her obsession with heroes wasn’t healthy. How many times had she put herself in danger capturing footage for her blog, and for what? Ladybug clearly didn’t care, so why should Alya? A break wasn’t what she needed. If she came back, it would just be more of the same. What Alya truly needed was to walk away. To shut the door and never look back. Maybe then she could find something worth believing in.

“Al?”

Alya bit her lip, thoughts racing. Before she could change her mind, she hit delete, erasing months of hard work in an instant. Countless late nights, dangerous battles collecting footage, all of her hopes and dreams and theories gone at the touch of a button. Ladybug didn’t trust her anymore, and now the feeling was mutual.

[honeypirate]

Just In Case

Part two

Pro hero Bakugou x fem pro hero reader

in my world Recovery Girl lives forever and trains another who can replace her when she retires who she passes the hero title of recovery girl too.

Anyway on to the story that’s probably not as good as I want but oh well.

Warning- angst. Death. Blood. Ya know the works.

Inspiration- Murder In the City // The Avett Brothers

You write a letter every day. A new one so it stays relevant. Every morning you took ten minutes to quickly write out a letter just in case anything bad happens while you’re at work.

You see, being a hero isnt all rainbows and butterflies and ranks. Sometimes it’s boring. But other times, it’s scary and horrifying. Those days where you barely make it out on top because the villains were crafty.

After one hard therapy session filled with worries and tears, your therapist suggested letters. At least one. To your husband. Just in case.

This morning wasn’t different than your last, you can hear your husband in his office across the hall, humming a song you listened to at dinner the previous night. He made your heart happy with everything he did, minus the way he left his used teeth floss sticks on the counter or the way he could be a little loud.

Every morning you write this letter, periodically meeting his eye through your open doors and he’d wink, making you laugh and stick your tongue out.

Today you watched as he moved, methodical, he’s done this every morning and it shows but he still takes care with every movement.

“Are you ready?” He says as he crosses the hallway “we’re needed in half an hour so we should go soon” you smile at him and somethjng settles in your stomach. Something heavy and uncomfortable. Something wrong.

“Yeah I’m almost done” you say and he watches as you fold your letter and place it in an envelope, writing his name followed by ‘just in case’ then sticking it in your top drawer.

The letters he’s been told about. The letters he supports. He’s actually been writing his own to you as well but you both agreed that you can’t read then unless it’s actually happening.

You try to not focus on the hard substance in your stomach or the way it seems to ache. It’s a bad feeling but sometimes your anxiety could cause them for no reason so you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

“Ready” you say softly, pulling down your hero mask to press your lips to his for a moment. He helps you readjust your mask with a pink flush in his cheeks. You’ve been married for years but making him blush is as easy as it was day one.

(Skippy skip)

The villains were smart, drawing all the heroes to different locations. You were climbing the stairs of an abandoned building, going to see if the intel about a bomb on the third floor was true, which unfortunately, it was.

Your hands hovered over the bomb, using your electric quirk to cancel out the wires and stop the timer. A scuffing sound catches your attention and you’re dodging a metal rod that was thrown at you to only be stabbed by one from a different direction.

The villain could control metal with his quirk, throwing the rod at you from one direction when he was coming from a different side. “Huh” you say softly as you look down at the rod through your stomach, the pain not even registering yet. “Poor unfortunate hero.” He lifts you by the metal rod and you scream, white hot pain shooting through you as it tears your abdomen as he slams you into the ground, pushing the rod further through you until it connects to the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have a hot date later” he says as he restarts the bomb, placing it farther from you so you couldn’t reach it with your powers, then he’s hopping from the third story window and waving at you with a smirk.

Your hand flies to your ear piece “There’s a bomb! Third floor tallest abandoned building in the-“ and that’s all you can get out before the bomb goes off and the building is collapsing.

The area was covered in dust and smoke, ash falling from the sky. You ripped your mask off trying to get more air into your lungs but it didn’t help that a giant piece of concrete was crushing your right arm and part of your ribs and chest, not to mention you’re still attached to the rod.

“Bakugou” you say through your headpiece, coughing up blood and ash “where are you?” He shouts back “the bomb” you muttered back and it sounded wheezy, you could hear the fluid in your lungs. You heard more explosions before he was appearing right beside you.

“Hey there hot stuff” you say and chuckle softly as he brushes the dust out of your hair “I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay” he’s saying but his eyes are filling with tears and his brows are knit. “It’ll be okay” you say but he does not look in your eyes. He’s still fretting, trying to think of how to save you.

“Bakugou.” You say in a commanding voice and he looks at you “you’ll be okay” you whisper, your blood covered lips smiling gently. You reach up with your left hand and cup his cheek, brushing away the hot tears that have started to fall. “You’ll be okay” you say again, your voice sounding weaker “no” he whispers “no. I’ll save you. You’ll be fine. I’ll get you help” kirishima is in your headpiece, telling you how he’s sent first responders your way but you can’t hear him.

Your voice is quiet, your hand going limp and falling from his cheek “You are the best part of me”

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He left the police station and was just walking. He couldn’t go home. Not when it was your home too. Not when he knows he’ll just be reminded of you and how you smiled at him this morning. How he woke up to you kissing his neck. How that will never happen again.

Walking into the office he didn’t bother with any of the lights. He puts in his alarm code and numbly makes his way to your office.

If you’re reading this. That means I’ve died.

Oh god I’ve always hated these letters. It’s so dramatic. I’m going to be okay. I have to be.

But just in case, since were up against major villains every day, I’ll write this letter. The 54th I’ve written so far.

Anyway I would regret not saying anything if it was my last day alive. I know I’m going to go home tonight and hold you, kiss you, and spend it like it was my last. This won’t be different than the last 53 letters I’ve shredded.

But. Life is short. It’s short and before you know it it can be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. So here we go.

If I get murdered in the city tomorrow, don’t go revenging in my name. A person dead from such is plenty, no need to go get locked away. I know you’ll blame yourself and get mad and swear revenge. Bakugou I love you. Let go of the hate and the rage. All I want is you to be happy and you to be okay.

But there’s no need to get over alarmed, I’m coming home I know it.

(His tears start to hit the paper, hot big tears blotting the ink and making it hard to see. )

So if tomorrow is my last day. Ill leave this letter in my desk.

Don’t bother with my belongings. Things never really mattered to me, you know that. Donate them. Burn then. Whatever you want.

Tell my sister that I love her. That I’m sorry if she ever doubted that.

I wonder what my parents will say. Probably that they were proud of me. Please let them know how much I loved them. How much I loved my childhood.

Now for you, my love, my sweetheart. The love of my life I’m sure of it. There was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. The love that let me share your name for these few years.

Thank you. For loving me. For supporting me. For choosing me every day. I’ve never doubted it once. I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me.

I'm watching you in your office right now, youre humming that song that played at the restaurant last night.

If I had never seen your face this world would have been such a very different place for me. It would be quieter and colorless. You have truly given me so much in this life that I can never hope to repay you.

You can never know which way your heart will go, but you are the compass leading mine. It will always point to you.

You’ve made me feel alive made me want to live so I could experience all my dreams coming true with you by my side.

I don’t know what else to add

Please, if you know anything, let it be that you were my greatest happiness in life.

I’ll always come home to you

I love you

-y/n

His hand is shaking as he finishes the letter.

He takes a sharp inhale and his knees give out, falling to the floor beside your desk with a soft gasp that turned into a sob as he broke down.

“You. You promised” he whispered between sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as he hugs his arms around himself, hunching forward as his tears make soft patting sounds as the hit the hard wood floor.

He doesn’t know how Kirishima found him but when he runs through the office and sighs with relief when he finds him, he doesn’t move. He stays, broken on the floor, sobbing. Kiri doesn’t freeze, he’s there in a second, wrapping his arms around his best friend. Trying to give him a little comfort.

Kirishima's phone rings and Bakugou growls, taking it from his hand as kiri goes to silence it, pressing answer without looking to see who it is “what” he yells out, his nose stuffy and throat constricted showing how much he’s been sobbing.

Recovery Girls voice is stern through the receiver “You need to get down here right away. She’s alive.”

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x11: Let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents... the reason for my next mental breakdown

I can't believe myself, honestly. Oversleeping on the one day of the week that I've got something exciting to wake up for? Oh well, I'm up now and I'd better go ahead and do this before my dashboard has showered me with spoilers. I mean, I have never really minded spoilers, but when it comes to this, somehow I do. Though I do wish something had forewarned me about last week's snap ending (get it, 'snap'... I'll see myself out). I'd better dive in already.

Yes, Mr Mazzara, that's what I've been saying for a while! Ok, maybe I haven't been very vocal about it, but it was in the foreground of my mind that they should have asked for Mr Mazzara's help re: transformation! I'm just glad he pointed it out. Not that he could have done much while he was busy playing therapist for his beloved Miss Jenn. Oh well.

Were those Ash and Ricky doing actual paired-up warmups? That is what they should have been doing for weeks now. That and having actual off-stage interactions, too. But I still subscribe to the theory that the gang had some good rehearsals off-screen — otherwise there's no way they could have been this good on stage as we saw in the previews. I said it last time and I'll say it again — not everything is for us to see.

Wow. The one time our leads are in unison, and it is about both being injured. The East High drama club must be cursed — they can't have one production run smoothly and without what can only be described as pure unbridled chaos.

They don't have any understudies? That explains some things... but also how? But also, I'm so happy Ashlyn is going on. No way she would have missed her first (first of many, right?) chance of being the lead because of some 'minor' injury.

Ricky and Nini still can't talk to each other properly. Oh well. Take your time. It's not like I care about this pairing anymore.

Did EJ just use the word 'dig'? Boy, the boy's got it baaaaaad. Also, what is it going to take for these two to realise they're in love? For all we know, they might have that big kiss we're all dreaming of and still be like 'nah, it's nothing, we're buddies'... give me a break! But I mean, at this point they might just be turning into Redlyn 2.0, where even a kiss doesn't define things. But hey, if they do follow in Redlyn's footsteps, that only means good things in their future, right?

What did that fake French git do to my boy Carlos? He's not supposed to look this inanimate until right before the climax of the play! Well, I mean, at least Seb serving as his interpreter means that Seb gets more lines for a bit. Too bad he can't go on for someone with more lines in the play.

Miss Jenn's 'words of inspiration' were less than inspired... yeah, this show's going down. Or it would, if it depended solely on her. Let's hope the kids do better. I mean, I know for a fact they will... at least for about 5 minutes of the thing. There is still room for things to go wrong and I'm scared.

Oh, my sweet boy... I wish I could jump in there and do something to help him feel less nervous. Thing is, if I were there, I'd probably be the most nervous of them all, even if I were playing Townsfolk #3 or something, and everyone's nervousness would rub off on me, and I would be making things worse instead of helping. So yeah, I'm kind of glad I'm not there.

Ahhhh who called it? @redlyncentral was it you? Ash got flowers for her Biggie! And there's a card whose contents we've yet to see. But that doesn't seem to be helping either. My sweet, sweet Reddy... I hope and pray he'll be alright.

Well this is awkward! Who told Mike to show up and shake everything up right now? Miss Jenn is literally on the brink of exploding, and now she's stuck in this completely unnecessary love triangle. She needs some space. And a quiet place to breathe, thanks Mr M for suggesting it.

'Did we forget to build a mote around the school or...' Yeah, you tell her, Rick! That girl whose name I never want to pronounce (because it makes me think of much nicer people and she's making me hate it) has no business being there. She's not... being given a redemption arc, is she now? Some people just don't deserve it. And if hating her is an unpopular opinion now, well, I never did care much about having popular opinions. I can live with that.

'Lily, scram!' Yes, thank you, Natalie! I've always wanted someone who would voice my thoughts in a way that the characters can hear them. Make this girl a main next season, won't you? (Just so we're crystal clear, I mean Natalie, not the other one.)

OMG Mr M is in the play! In a way... I love that!

I love, love, love the way they did the prologue. 'Repulsed [the prince makes an over-the-top gesture of repulsion] by her haggard appearance [the witch shows off her face to the audience]...' I love this. I would pay a lot for a chance to see their entire play, you know?

Oh dear, somebody give my boy Reddy some sort of... medical aid against all the throwing up! I've got a nice pill that helps me with my bad cases of motion sickness. Hey, so maybe I could have helped if I were there after all. Great, now I feel bad. But also, is all the throwing up an excuse on the writers' part to keep my boy off-screen for the majority of this episode? Because it's a really lame excuse.

Gina's 'Many questions' continues to be a mood. What exactly is Miss Jenn expecting from the kids? Last-minute adjustments? No way. This spells disaster.

Was Carlos on vocal rest or something? Because he shines like the star he is... despite all the very obvious nervousness backstage. I mean, I wouldn't have it any other way, but... oh well, I wouldn't say it's unrealistic. In my personal performing experience, the most nervous ones perform the best. (So... what is that saying for my boy Reddy? Good things only.)

I've already had the opportunity to geek out about Be Our Guest yesterday, but... I mean, just look at them! Carlos doesn't need actual candles to be on fire, Ashlyn is stealing the scene without any lines in it, Gina is absolutely gorgeous, and don't even get me started on EJ and Big Red looking at their girls in absolute awe! This is everything!

Aww, look at them! Gina and Ashlyn dancing together, I mean. They're sisters and it really shows. And I love them both so much.

Kourtney is an absolute show-stealer! I'm still upset about some casting choices (one of them is in this scene, doing his absolute best with the crumbs he has been given), but she is absolutely perfect. I think I'll rewind and watch this entire scene again before moving on with the rest of the episode.

I'd just like to point out that Frankie's voice in his lower register is everything!

'You absolutely dusted that stage'... Not EJ making a pun so punny even I could not have thought of it... boy is absolutely smitten!

Not me tearing up when Jordan Fisher appeared as Gina's brother... like, I knew it was happening — I knew it even before it was announced. And I still teared up because, well, it's emotional in-universe and out.

Awww, my boy Reddy is so in love with Ashlyn... I mean, who wouldn't be... but — not Ricky saying Lily might not be as mean as they thought. Especially not to Big Red of all people. To him, she was just as mean as they thought.

'Side hustle project in the south hallway'? Ooh, what is it, I want to know now!

Why do I feel like things are a bit too awkward between Kourtney and Howie? Not that I'm too invested in their relationship, but if it bothered me, imagine how it must feel for the stans.

No, Ash, you absolutely do not need to add any fancy riffs to the song! Especially not just because L... well, that girl did it. You're unique and lovely and a literal Disney princess inside and out. That girl? She's just a wolf in a sparkling golden dress.

Awww... Big Red literally lowers Ash's blood pressure! Those two are such an amazing couple! (Full disclosure, though, he kind of does the same for me too; the other night I had this horrible nightmare, and I woke up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, and then... ok, getting too personal there.) The point is, if even the fantasy of a Big Red hug makes me feel better, imagine what his actual presence would do for Ash at that moment. Where is my boy? Everyone seems to be looking for him.

Oh... guess they took my advice to give the poor boy something for his vomiting issue. Good for whoever thought of it.

And we're back to the Porter siblings... forgive me if I still can't wrap my head around calling Gina's brother Jamie. I don't know about you guys, but thanks to my lovely new friend Paz he will always be Theodore to me. I guess we can headcanon that as his middle name. Anyway, I love it that they made a joke about the hilarious height difference between him and Gina because, well, it's the only thing I can think about when I look at the two of them. It reminds me of me and my little cousin who has been taller than me since she was 10, and is still growing taller now at 13. But, I mean, it's not very hard to be taller than me, since I'm so, so short... ok, this is not about me. Moving on.

Was I the only one who actually laughed out loud at Ricky drinking from the bowl as the Beast? I mean, that part has always made me laugh in the original movie, but something about Ricky's take on it makes it even funnier.

Meanwhile, my girl Ash is absolutely killing it as Belle. Not me having the very same expression as Big Red while watching her... gosh, I love both of them so much! Also, no offence to the rest of the cast, but Julia really is the best vocalist out there. Out of all of them. I said what I said.

My apologies to Ricky, but his voice is just not it when it comes to playing the Beast. Still, with the other option being him putting on that fake deep voice from the audition, I'm glad he didn't.

Ahhhh Portwell nation you ok guys? Since we didn't get them singing Something There, this is very much the next best thing... and boy, is it good!

Those glances between Kourtney and Howie, on the other hand... what on Earth is happening there?

Ok, so you all know just how strongly I feel about Seb's casting as Chip, and yet... boy had one line and absolutely ate it up! Give him an actual singing role next time, Miss Jenn!

EJ being starstruck by Jamie not because he's a big music producer, but because he's Gina's brother... excuse me while I sob!

Excuse me, what!!!! 'A big brother figure'? Boy, this didn't turn out the way I thought it would... now I'm scared.

Way to ruin things, Jamie! And I don't even mean the fact that his name is not Theodore. It doesn't matter what his name is anymore. He might just have put a spanner in the works of Portwell, and they were just doing so well! Ugh, I'm so frustrated. I wish I'd never boarded — what did I call it — 'the majestic S.S. Portwell'. What if it doesn't set sail now?

And there goes another disappointment... Carlos' 'the orchestra hasn't vamped this much since Bop to the Top' line had nothing to do with Seblos, and everything to do with what might still be the downfall of this show. I am not ready.

No. Miss Jenn did not just say that. She did not just tell Ricky — who, may I remind you, not that anyone's forgotten, just fell off of a high place last episode — to 'jump off of something high'. I realise she's under all the pressure, but that is not an excuse. Well, at least she heard herself.

Oh my gods... Nini — well, Nina, actually — did not just call him 'Richard', did she? That's it, that's the point of no return. And well, I kind of wanted them to reach it.

Told you, didn't I? I told you that-girl-who-must-not-be-named was evil! I always follow my intuition and it has not once deceived me. Redeem that, if you can! Guess what? You can't. We've just reached another point of no return.

Wait, a bloody cliffhanger? I cannot handle this. I physically cannot handle this. If you need me, I'll be sitting on my bed in shock, trying to process everything that happened. I'll need a while to get a grip on myself.

[writing-in-april]

Russian Roulette

Spencer Reid x Female Unsub Reader

Thanks to my beta readers! @definitelynotkatesblog and @clean-bands-dirty-stories

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUT, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING

Includes: Suicide, Attempted Suicide, Toxic Relationship, Gun kink, Angsty smut -There is no specific dominant person in the smut-

A/N: Please do not read if you are easily triggered or under the age of 18. This was really difficult to write but I am really happy the way it came out! I have a playlist I made for writing this if anyone is wanting it just ask! My requests are open for basically any character you can think of, I want to branch out and write lots of characters!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

——

The warehouse that I had found myself masking my location in was in no doubt the most ghastly place I had chosen yet. I wasn’t sure what drew me to the abandoned depository, maybe I had subtly acknowledged to myself that I was at the end of my rope-I knew I couldn’t run forever. The smoke colored walls matched the ashes dropping from the cigarette I had lit to alleviate my anxiety. The cat and mouse game I had been playing with the team that was on my trail was coming to an end. They had an extra vendetta set out against me since I cruelly betrayed the trust built between us. Polluted air swirled around me as I dug my nose in a book, trying to distract myself from my impending doom.

A noise drew my thoughts away from Catcher in the Rye that I had been reading while sat on a shitty mattress, practically the only furniture in this hole in the wall. My manicured nails snuffed out the cigarette into the bed and discarded the paperback, knowing that this was the start of the end. The double doors swung open as the recognizable silhouette Dr. Reid, his shadow was tall and lanky, with noticeable wild curls that looked as if he had rolled out of bed. He finally graced my eyes with the details of his figure, every step he took had lingering hesitation. It had been weeks since I had last seen him, he looked considerably more tired since he had last graced me with his presence, purple dark rings sat under his eyes, his hair even more disheveled then normal, and his clothes lacked the crisp ironing that he usually sported. I hated that I was the one that had caused his disheveled state, I had found a kindred spirit in Dr. Reid. It seemed like we were made for one another, our interests were exactly aligned, the only major thing that separated us was my penchant for murdering people. He was the first person I had felt connected to since my mother and it pained me to see that my betrayal had obviously weighed heavy on his mind.

“I see you finally found me.” I stated nonchalantly as I stood up, he was standing as far away as he could, from my observation it was evident he was disgusted with me but he was still drawn to me like a moth to a flame. He nodded solemnly, the words that he wanted to speak seemed caught in his throat, so instead his eyes bored into my soul. We stood in contemplation just staring at each other, we were only a few feet away from each other but it felt as if we were worlds apart.

“Was it ever real?” He finally spoke up in a shaky voice, his lip quivering in either anger or sadness. “Did you feel what I felt?”

“I hadn’t been real to anyone in a long time until I met you.” I spoke honestly, though I wasn’t sure if he believed me.

I felt the memory of our first meeting flash before my eyes, a murderer had crashed into my hometown, killing important people with checkered pasts. Politicians, lawyers, and police officers- no one was safe. My job as a therapist put me straight into the cesspit of what I viewed as the worst of humanity, slimy high ranking fixtures of the community. I often felt my skin crawling as sick human beings put on a facade of perfection hiding their nefarious deeds behind closed doors, so I began taking care of them by slitting their throats in the dead of night.

When the BAU rolled into our city they immediately put everyone connected with the victims into protective custody. There wasn’t an immediately obvious motive so the team had collected anyone with an important role putting each person with a specific team member. I had been put with the genius of the team Dr. Reid. The stay in the safe house with him made our relationship blossom, we shared interests, hobbies, and even our backstories (I had edited mine a bit so they wouldn’t catch on). Usually I viewed the world as black and white good or evil and until I met Dr. Reid I hadn’t felt grey before just a dark cesspool of no emotion.

I had never even spoken his first name, I had told him that- “Someone who earned 3 PHDs should have their achievements recognized all the time.” I still couldn’t deny these strange feelings that welled up inside of me, no matter how hard I tried to distance myself.

When I had been spotted by the doctor running from the scene of a crime I could practically hear his heart break and to be honest mine did too. I never wanted him to see this side of me that I kept buried, I had wanted to stop for a while even after that first kill but what had first started out as vigilantism turned into a compulsion to kill.

His screams broke me out of my reminiscing my eyes snapped up to see the doctor holding his gun, pointing it straight at my heart.

“WHY?! Why you?” He broke out of his previous calm facade, letting me in on the anger I had stirred underneath.

“You know the profile Doctor you tell me” I asked, though no answer was given.

The gun was shaking in his hands, his fury boiling over, steam was practically coming out of his ears.

“Pull the trigger Dr. Reid. It’s what we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it? Let’s skip the reminiscing. So go on. Pull the trigger.” His grip faltered, he wasn’t sure where to go from here, should he take you in? Or completely screw regulation and take out his unbridled rage on the woman who had cruelly stolen his heart by shooting her.

The weapon was lowered, his hands still shook in fury as he put it back snugly in its place. I already knew he had called his team, no matter what he felt for me before there was no way he would risk his career to let me go. Even though I had accepted the cards that had been dealt I wasn’t going to let them take me alive. Tentatively I stepped forward, wanting to gain a semblance of closeness between us before I sacrificed myself, his body was rigid in its place as our chests touched.

I pulled the gun from his his side holster, it was an odd gun for an FBI agent to carry, a revolver to be exact. My fingers gripped the curved cedar handle, dragging it across Dr. Reid’s clothed collarbones, his arms were stiff at his sides unmoving. He was unsure of my intentions with the weapon. He knew logically that I was cornered in this abandoned warehouse with no escape, and obviously I couldn’t do much with a single revolver, that’s why he had only put one round in, reserved only for my heart if the trigger was needed to be pulled. Then I softly, with uncharacteristic tenderness, grabbed the good doctor’s hand with my free hand to guide his large palms to envelope my hand over the gun. He seemed flustered, which was odd to me, his resolve of hatred had never weakened around me until now. Our hands were clasping the gun in unison, the clammy palms of Dr. Reid cradled my own as I reached over and spun the chamber to land on a random spot.

I prided myself on the ability to read people but I couldn’t ascertain the reason behind the evident hesitation in his eyes as I encouraged him to carefully set the revolver snug against my jaw. Was it possible he had developed a care for me or did this just boil down to fear of having an unsub handle his gun. His breathe was mixed with mine, I held my pattern evenly while his had become ragged, strong enough to whisp my hair away from my face. With a flick I unlocked the safety and a genuine smile graced my face, if these were my final moment I was glad I got to spend it with Dr. Reid, he brought me a strange sense of comfort that I had never known before. His whole body was shaking as my forefinger moved to the trigger- he almost looked as if he was going to cry. A resounding click echoed off the dull gray walls of my hiding place, I had momentarily escaped my fate.

Dr. Reid suddenly smashed his lips onto mine breaking me out of the brief relief. My body had grown rigid against his movements, I wasn’t used to emotional connections with anyone and they certainly were never romantic. Just the delicate touch of his hand on my hip was more care then I had ever been shone before.

My cold exterior that I had carefully constructed was now in ruins because of Doctor reid. He was the only one who truly saw who I was, past my trauma and the trauma I caused. I melted into his forceful kiss, the unspoken tension that we had created finally was boiling over. It was full of tongue and teeth, our noses bumping as we poured our feelings into the kiss, speaking without ever making a sound. My back collided with the nearest wall, dust flying off to coat our bodies, his knee parted my legs and rested between my thighs. His spare hand left my hip to cradle my cheek practically engulfing my face with his large palm, raking the soft pads of his fingertips across my skin.

The silver barrel still rested under my chin being held precariously by our joined grip, Dr. Reid’s hand left my cheek, snaking its way down to the waistband of my pants. The tips of his fingers danced at the edge building anticipation in my veins.

He suddenly pulled the gun out from under my chin and set it under his own, my eyes widened in confusion my desire vanishing by the second. I tried to pull our unified hold away from his jawline but unfortunately he was stronger then me.

“I don’t know if I can live without you” he choked out, he had used his profiling skills deducing that I was going to sacrifice myself. He spun the wheel setting the bullet in another indiscriminate position, resetting the stakes all over again.

“It’ll be ok.” I begged desperately trying to talk him away from the ledge, just because I had wasted my life didn’t mean he had to as well. I brought my available appendage and covered the outside of his hand continuing my efforts to pull the gun away from his grasp. He shook his head, tears were freely falling from the both of us, mixing together to form a salty pool. His fingers slipping underneath my encased hand finding the trigger with ease, he pulled it quickly a sickening click resounded through the stale atmosphere. Once I was satisfied that he had survived air quickly left my body releasing the breath that I had held tightly in my lungs.

Mimicking his reaction from earlier I submerged us into another kiss, this one was tinged with my anger from his reckless move. I voiced my displeasure surrounding his actions by biting into his lip, bruising the plush tender skin. A groan escaped from him, the salacious kiss was now tainted with blood from his lips mixing together in gory harmony.

Undulating my hips onto the thigh that still sat between my legs, desire snuck itself back inside of me, rebuilding what had been banished. I suddenly had the urge to remove every cloth barrier that remained between us, I needed him now. Dr. Reid clearly shared the sentiment as he started pulling on the clothing covering my body. I did my best to shuck off his plum colored blazer with my available phalanges while he attempted to snap open the front of my pants. Our hands still were glued the wooden hilt of the gun that was rooted in its spot at the edge of the doctor’s jaw. The buttons of his dress shirt popped around us as my painted nails dug into the cotton, tearing the offensive fabric from his body. With frantic inelegant movement our outer clothing was ripped off our forms, the only barrier that lingered was our undergarments. His nimble fingertips wound around to the clasp of my bra tugging forcefully the clasp broke, freeing me from its confinement.

The lace was discarded in hast revealing my breasts to him he surged forward capturing my nipple in his mouth as my hips ground into his thigh. Circling my bud he glanced upwards, taking in the sight of my flushed cheeks, hair slicked with sweat, and the gun that I had swiftly moved to my temple removing it from his mandible. Excitement prickled in my core as he meandered down to where I craved him the most, he fisted the mesh- the last remaining remnant of clothing covering my body. A tearing noise filled the space, reverberating around us as the mesh separating us was torn away from me, revealing my full form.

His deft fingers gathered the building excitement between my folds, then he brought them to make contact with my clit. He rubbed slow harsh figure 8s against my pearl, I could feel myself getting wetter- which I didn’t think was possible. The ministrations continued for a while, but I was antsy to get his fingers inside of me. A beg almost fell from my mouth when all of a sudden with no warning his fingers plunged into my heat making my body convulse around him. He curled them expertly, nudging them perfectly at my g spot making the pit in my stomach grow and spread throughout my entire body.

Our hold had started to loosen on the gun so I clutched around the revolver tighter tugging our entangled fingers to rest the metal shaft perfectly against my temple. Upping the stakes further I rapidly clicked the trigger, the gun still had not administered its bullet into my brain, making the obscene act even better then before. His eyes held fear for a moment but couldn’t help his reaction to the clicks, a deep seated groan from deep in his chest. The sensations flowing through my body almost became too much to bear as he moved his thumb to my clit. My back arched against the wall as he sunk the blunt edges of his teeth into my collarbone while flicking against my clit with his thumb, sending me closer to bliss. He must have discerned that I was close to the edge and pulled his fingers away, his knuckles bumping against my g spot one last time which pulled a pathetic whimper from my throat while screwing my eyes shut.

I heard the tell tale sign of a belt buckle clinking causing my eyes to snap open, his full body was finally on display for me. My eyes drank in the sight before me, the doctor was just as I had imagined in my dreams, not too thick but long enough that I thought it might not fit. I reached forward to pump his length spitting into my palm as I jerked him off.

“Jump.” He whispered desperately into the shell of my ear, with careful precision my legs wrapped around his naked torso as I locked him in. The gun was the only barrier that remained between us as he lined himself up to my entrance and thrusted in one swift motion, breaching my walls for the first time.

“Fuck.” The soft expletive fell from his rose hued lips on the column of my throat making my toes curl.

His hips snapped into mine starting a pace with deliberate deep thrusts, my free arm wrapped around his neck trying to pull him in as close as possible. My fingers then wound through his messy curls yanking back so I could pepper kisses along the nape of his neck earning a sharp grunt from Dr. Reid as he picked up the pace. I bit the inside of my cheek in concern as he moved the gun to be placed under his jaw again. Tears started to fall again from my eyes as I silently pleaded for him not to pull the trigger, he ignored my pleas and reset the bullet to a random position once more. His rhythm faltered as the gun clicked for the fifth time, I knew we were testing fate too much at this point and that our luck was running out.

He kept the gun in its position while he picked up his momentum resuming his previous pace. My blood red nails dug into any part of him that I could grab onto leaving red streaks down his chest, back, and biceps as he reached parts of me that I didn’t even think existed. Our eyes locked together as his cock brushed against my g spot causing me to clench around him, we both moaned at the sensation hurtling us both closer to release.

I reached my hand down to rub harshly on my clit as I felt my climax coming just around the corner, my eyes rolling back in response to the added titillation. I then dragged our encapsulated hands away from Spencer pulling the barrel inside my mouth, his fingers flexed around mine anxiously as he soft whispers into my ear attempting to save me from myself. We both had somehow sensed that it was the end, I thought it was very fitting to end my life in the arms of the only person in the world I could find myself caring about. He didn’t stop his thrusts but they were now at a slow languid pace trying to savor every last moment he had with me.

“Spencer” I moaned in bittersweet symphony as I let myself kiss his bruised lips for the last time, our tears were falling giving our kiss a salty taste. A feeling of bliss suddenly overtook my body as I came in glorious crescendo. I rode out my high before I accepted my fate, my blood pounding in my ears for the final time. The wall was painted with blood as I pulled the trigger, ending my life with a bang.

*****

The shot rang in Spencer’s ears, it took him a minute to realize what had happened and that the object of his desire was gone. He was still holding the gun as the body of his unattainable love slumped onto him in death, his face speckled with scarlet. Finally the offending object slipped through his fingers clattering on the floor as he cradled her body.

His sobs echoed the empty rooms bouncing off the the walls mixing with the police sirens in the distance.

“He loved and he loved and he lost her, and it hurts like hell”-Fleurie

Tag list for Russian Roulette:

@zhuzhubii​ 

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

A TRIFECTA FOR THE WHUMP ONE FOR YOU choose whichever one appeals to you most ;D - (1) “Is that fear I see?” with Vesemir/Rennes; (2) ‘Fine’? I heard you scream!” with Lambert/Coën (or Lambert/Coën/Aiden); (3) “Nobody’s coming to save you.” for Rorveth (I WILL SEE MYSELF OUT NOW I'M SORRY)

Happy murderfest to you as well my dear.

I chose to go with Vesemir/Rennes #1 "is that fear I see?" Because I love dying and being dead and I know you do too. And a lovely time was had by all (not really, I'm crying as we speak).

CW/TW for the sacking of Kaer Morhen, gore, injury, death of children, and major character death.

Vesemir comes to to the sound of screaming and a horrible weight on his chest. He can’t see for a moment, can’t get his eyes to focus, his lashes caked with blood that has run down into his eyes. He's stuck beneath a massive piece of masonry, pinned by his leg and entire left side as though he'd tried to throw a quen and the shield had shattered. He can't remember where he is or how he got there for a long moment; head feeling hollow with the lack of memory.

One of the walls came down, he remembers finally, blown apart by chaos. He'd been shielding a group of yearlings, his yearlings. A cohort of boys only Grassed three weeks ago blinking against the glare of the burning north tower, muscles shaking as they tried to hold up swords, bodies too week to fight. There were men and mages and orders to kill...

He remembers now.

Through the rubble surrounding him, he can barely make out the twisted mass of blackened bodies. An abyss of pulverized gore with white icebergs of bone visible in places, too obliterated to make out who they'd been. The boys, his boys, smashed to nothing.

Some cry of animal grief builds itself in the dust-choked cavern of his throat. He holds it there, chokes on it, doesn't let it pass his lips.

"Please" a voice says from far away, a boy's voice "please no"

Vesemir gathers all his strength and tries to lift himself, the primal instinct to protect overtaking him. He feels the thready rip of muscle tearing and falls back with a gasp, sparks swimming in front of his eyes. He can't feel it, not really which means his leg is breaking down, that the muscle is dying. He grits his teeth against the fear.

"Please"

He is powerless but to listen as the terrified plea of the boy, his boy, trails off into the bloody rasp of a cut throat. He feels it though, feels it like a knife to the heart.

The silence settles, horrible and reeking of spilled blood and smoke.

It's quiet for a moment, a long moment that seems to stretch into oblivion. He's going to die here he realizes, bleeding out against the stones of the courtyard of the place that has become as familiar and dear to him as the back of his own hands, the sight of his own face in the mirror. A place they were supposed to be safe.

There’s a poetic irony to it and he almost laughs, only to find his lungs too crushed to expand enough to produce the sound.

There’s a movement across the courtyard, barely visible through the smoke and debris. Vesemir, pinned as he is, unable to turn his head, is aware of movement but can’t see it for a long moment. He braces himself for pain, for a surprise attack but it doesn’t come.

A group of soldiers and mages strides into view, a prone and growling figure in a black fur cloak slung between them. They throw their captive to the ground. Vesemir hears the crack of kneecaps against the cobblestones. He’d know that shape anywhere; the haughty cut of those broad shoulders, those strong thighs, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight.

It’s Rennes, face mottled and swollen with bruises, bleeding from several stab wounds. The shaft of an arrow sticks out of his thigh, fletching stained with blood. Something in Vesemir breaks at the sight even as a deeper part of him wails in gratitude, in relief. Everything he’d lost come back to him.

When the alarm had been raised Rennes chose to meet the intruders alone. He had donned his black wolf-fur cloak and stepped out onto the trail - a Master to the very last. Vesemir had tried to go with him but had been ordered to stay, held back by Rennes’ hand. The first time the grandmaster had touched him in years.

“Stay” Rennes had ordered, hand heavy against his shoulder, calloused and scarred fingers curling against the side of his neck as though seeking to pull strength from his pulse. Vesemir hadn't let it break him.

But he had stayed, had done as he was told. A loyal dog to the last.

He had assumed Rennes had died there on the trail, hadn't seen him in the ensuing fray. Although he hadn't been in much of a place to look.

Now, watching them drag him, demiterium-cuffed and rope-bound he realizes Rennes's fate had been worse than death. He'd been made to watch.

He's still wearing his cloak, black fur blending with the silver-streaked thundercloud of his hair. Regality is written in every line of his posture even as one of the men hits him across the face with the hilt of his sword, even as he spits blood and fragments of teeth onto the cobblestones.

"So here he is, the last wolf," the one who hit him says, laughing "the alpha bitch. What did you think beastie? Did it turn you on when we killed them all?"

"They’re only children," Rennes says, quietly.

It's a spit-back of Vesemir’s own words and it chills him to the bone. How often had they had this argument? Are they children or witchers? Men or monsters? “Only the strong survive” Rennes would growl at him, slamming down his cup of whatever it was they’d been drinking hard enough to dent the table “That’s the way it has to be. Boys are like bones, break them and they’ll grow stronger. They'll grow stronger or die”

They’d spent lifetimes breaking children in the name of strength and for what? What good had that strength been in the end? What had it all been for?

“They’re only boys,” Rennes says again, coming to the realization too late for it to do anyone any good.

"Not anymore," the men say "no more monsters, no more monstrous children. No more witchers"

"The lone wolf dies," Rennes says, all glacial calm despite the blood bubbling up from between his lips "but the pack survives"

The men laugh, the leader taking Rennes' bruised chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look around him; at the ruined Keep, at the bloody cobblestones, at the piles of bodies - child-small corpses - cut down where they'd stood hands shaking around swords too big for their frames

"Don't you see, beastie? Look around you. There's no pack left"

He knows that Rennes sees him from the way that the other man smiles, just a twitch of blood-burned lips, an old familiar gesture meaning what can you do? Meaning thank the gods you're here. Meaning I'm sorry.

"Is that fear I see?" The one with the sword says mockingly "did I finally make the soulless mutant feel something after all?"

“No,” Rennes says, eyes hard as chips of stone when he lifts them “not fear”

“Too bad,” the man says and lifts his sword.

There’s a horrible meaty crunch and Vesemir screams. Or maybe he just imagines he does, the shock too great for sound.

Rennes' headless torso falls to the ground with a resounding thud, blood pooling from the stump of neck, that strong regal neck. His head bounces once, rolls, comes to rest on one cheek facing Vesemir’s own.

His eyes are open, wide and bright, and full of defiance. Even facing down the executioner's blade his iron core of bravery hadn't failed him. Vesemir loves him, purely and completely for the first time in a generation even as the animal anguish of loss claws its way inside his chest.

He feels tears welling at the corners of his eyes - a feeling he hasn't felt in over sixty years, a feeling he didn't think he could feel anymore. They fall, lava hot against his freezing cheeks, mixing with the blood and ash to fall red against the stones beneath him. He gasps, sobs with it, his smashed ribcage protesting the expansion of the lungs beneath them.

Pinned as he is he can't turn his head, can't look away from the face of the man he’s spent his life loving, loathing; that strong nose, those snarl-bowed lips the curvature of which he knows better than the sound of his own heartbeat. He can't look away. He doesn't know that he would if he'd been able to.

How many nights has Vesemir spent in this same position; cheek on pillow gazing into those ice-chip eyes? They used to lie like this as trainees, whispering stories of heroism and chivalry to each other in the darkness of the shared dormitory. Later they lay like this as lovers, passing promises of forever back and forth like talismans between kiss-bitten lips. It's fitting that it would end like this, unable to do anything but gaze into Rennes' death pale face like a lover might - a position he hadn't held for decades but had longed for throughout it all, despite it all, despite loathing himself for the longing.

The sun sinks below the horizon, a bloody gash, choked with smoke. The darkness encroaches with the horrible silence of a mass grave, and Vesemir watches Rennes' amber eyes cloud over with death, milky as the moon.

He remembers when they were blue.

[sarcasticfina]

Fic Writer Tag Game

How many works do you have on AO3? 263

What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,901,188

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? including the fandoms on FFnet, that haven't yet been moved over to ao3, that'd be a total of 37. separating the larger fandoms (marvel, dcu) into their individual parts: Thor; Arrow; Smallville; The Vampire Diaries; Glee; Captain America; Supernatural; Teen Wolf; Iron Man; Life with Derek; Firefly; Friday Night Lights; X-Men; Fantastic Four; Harry Potter; Sons of Anarchy; Girl Meets World; Batman; Daredevil; From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series; Transformers; Lost Girl; Game of Thrones; Banshee; High School Musical; The OC; One Tree Hill; CSI: New York; Degrassi; Gossip Girl; NCIS; The Unusuals; Criminal Minds; iCarly; Secret Life of the American Teenager; Twilight; and The Listener

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. and I wonder (if everything could ever feel this real forever) - darcy/bucky - Steve tells him that Darcy's harmless. Bucky imagines, on paper, Darcy is harmless. HYDRA wouldn't give her a second glance. But he does. He can barely keep his eyes off her. He's not sure he wants to. | Kudos: 5576

2. I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me) - darcy centric | darcy/steve - The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend. | Kudos: 3973

3. Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself) - oliver/felicity - A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading. | Kudos: 3498

4. You put your arms around me (and I'm home) - darcy/bucky - A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills. | Kudos: 3293

5. you (anchor me back down) - darcy/bucky - "I'll be right back." Famous last words. | Kudos: 2747

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? not all of them. i do try to keep up on them, especially on longer stories when there's been significant wait times in between chapters, or when a reader is asking a question or is unclear on something. and especially when someone writes a really indepth comment/review, i like to respond to those and talk about motivations and character growth.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I've written a number of fics that either had suicide or major character death, so i'm not sure if one outranks the other in terms of most angsty... hmm... i remember "be still and know that I'm with you (be still and know that I am here)" and "light a match, burn the world to ash (I will watch it die, and hold your hand as I fly)" both got some pretty intense reactions when they were posted. And "It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Go On)" was basically just angst from beginning to end. buuuuut, i think i'll say "so you think you can tell (heaven from hell" was, only because there's a build up of everything going so right, only to pivot at the end, so it feels very bittersweet.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i loooooove crossovers. i find writing in the marvel fandom makes things quite easy, but also smallville. as long as i can find a common thread, i enjoy finding a way to overlap two shows. i'll say the hardest one to write was "ruby red slippers (unavailable in her size)." I'm not sure why, but i found writing each personality together just felt strange. i liked the idea behind the story, but i definitely remember feeling like i was really forcing myself to keep going, like something just didn't fit right.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? oh, definitely. you cannot please everyone, it's impossible. for the most part, hate comes and i either argue back, take the criticism for what it's worth, or just ignore it when it's baseless. i think the hate that bothered me the most was a homophobic PM someone sent me re: "you know I will adore you ('til eternity)," on FFnet. i actually went and searched it up. they've since blocked me so i can't read our whole thread back and forth. but i did put part of it on tumblr so i could rant on it a bit, so you can see that here.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? ha. yes. depending on the story, it can be really detailed or really flowery. it depends on the ship, the plot, and how graphic i feel like being. i've definitely become more comfortable over the years with my writing. that said, i think everybody likes something different. i once had a reviewer tell me a sex scene was too much, just too intense. it was a stefan/caroline story and to be fair, that entire oneshot was just them fucking, lol, but it is what it is. to each their own.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Multiple times.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! for the record, i am always happy to have my stories translated and shared. i just like having a link sent to me and to be credited.

What’s your all time favorite ship? i have a list of OTPs, because interests change and as shows come and go, my love for a ship can be shelved for a while before it pops back up at random. currently, i can't get enough of buck/eddie from 9-1-1. and, historically, chloe/oliver (smallville) and felicity/oliver (arrow) have been two of my top OTPs. but i think i'd have to go with bonnie/damon. they had all the potential and the show dropped the ball by not exploring it. at the same time, that's kind of a blessing, because i don't trust those writers to properly explore what they had without eventually destroying it for the likes of de/ena. it means a treasure trove for writing where it could have gone and all the what if's.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? the intention is always to finish. but given how i feel about allison mack and how that impacts my feelings re: chloe sullivan, pretty much anything with her as a main character is not something i see myself returning to.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? i'm putting these together because my strength is my weakness. i love to write. when i get an idea, i go all in and i will skip eating and sleeping to just write write write. but i also eventually hit a wall and i get so many ideas that i hyperfocus on one until the steam is gone and then i hyperfocus on the next one to maintain that need to keep writing, accidentally leaving the last story in the dust for entirely too long. i also have clinical depression that comes and goes, which hasn't been super great mixed with covid and isolation, so more often recently, i find myself overly exhausted and despite wanting to write, can rarely get motivated to do so. so, pre-covid, wrote so much i left entirely too many stories dangling. during covid, i've just been reading and struggling to get myself focused enough to do what i love.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i appreciate the authenticity when possible, but i've recently been reading more about how native speakers of other languages feel when a) their language is butchered by google translate, or b) it's just not genuine in terms of how bilingual speakers act or speak.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for? it was smallville, but i remember adopting it out to someone else because i wasn't going to finish it. so if you look at my ffnet, the first fandom i wrote for appears to be x-men: the movie, but i remember writing a chloe/oliver story prior to that.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? i have a lot. i mean, on ffnet, i have 576 stories, many of which were transferred over to ao3, with a lot of oneshots and drabbles getting joined together into collections. so there's a ton to pick from that span a 14-ish year timeline.

"you know I will adore you ('til eternity)" and "let me break (the walls that surround me)" hold a special place in my heart.

honestly, each story is important in its own way. there are bits and pieces of each that i love. every time i write something new it feels like my favorite. my best. and then a new idea comes along. there are scenes i've written that i loved more than the whole of what they became. lines that stand out that are almost too good to be a part of the larger picture.

one of my all time favorite passages i've written was bonnie's thoughts on damon and herself in 'if you love me (let me go)":

He is far from perfect. He is a novel of red, corrective ink. He is frayed pages and torn binding. His life, his choices, his mistakes leave lasting effects on everyone he meets.

She is a lifeboat with a hole in it. An anchor that drowns in the sea while everyone else remains steady above. She is both the calm and the storm, and while she screams that she will not be tamed, she cries. Bittersweet tears that go unnoticed and uncared about.

there are other stories, other pieces of dialogue, that i've been proud of. that make me laugh when i re-read them. that make me cry. and i love them. there are others that make me wilt and cringe and regret. it's a process. love and pride and growth, all bound together.

Tagging: @absentlyabbie, @anonymous033, and anyone else who'd like to fill this all out, haha

[whereflowersbloom]

Cracked heart

He had made a terrible mistake. Somehow, before the tragedy he’d begun to believe in the visions of a bright and hopeful future. Of a new world where the stars listened and dreams were answered. His half-human heart had shown him how foolish he was. It was his fault. It had been all his damn fault.

Everything was maddening chaos. Red lights and noisy alerts in the monitoring equipment of the Tower. Nightwing yelling orders at everyone, preparing for a major battle. Starfire organized two groups. There two teams were forcibly separated by a force field that cut off compete communication between them. Of course they never expected the aftermath would cost them more than they were able to imagine...

"We need to wait for Raven.” He answered to Starfire, his voice cracking mid-sentence. He knew he they had to leave, but if they could just wait one more minute. One more minute. For her. He wouldn’t leave her behind. More voices warning him to hurry up. It was too much for his ears and head.

“I can't leave her behind!" His voice shakes with panic and fear, his entire being was shaking as the alarms blasted his ears, red lights flashing continually. He doesn’t waste any more time and took off to the sky eyes scanning for any signs of Raven.

Deep inside, a small part of him was sobbing in wretched, horrified guilt as his half-kryptonian eyes looked at the brutalized body of his teammate. He recalled her expression. Heartbreaking panic and torment made her achingly familiar eyes bright and chaotic. There was a desire stirring inside him to return to the days before she became broken, before her inconsolable soul shattered, a minute, a single minute just to save him was the key to her happiness. But even he knew such wounds of the heart never healed even with the fast flow of time.

With his heart clenching painfully he took a step closer to her door room. He didn’t bother to knock, quietly he opened the door and let himself in.

“Raven...” Conner released a breath that he hadn’t fully realized he had been holding and felt his shoulders slump with inhuman physical fatigue.

Raven opened her amethyst eyes to meet electric blue ones, she recognized the guilt in them. She had stayed in her room for more than five days. She closed her eyes and begged to Azar this was a terrible nightmare, to listen to her prayers. Let him live. Please let him come back to me. She still wanted to scream. Instead she turned away and looked towards the window. Most days, she would only stare vacantly into space. Sometimes kept looking at the clock visualizing Damian walking inside, done with patrolling, allowing her to listen to his steady heartbeat as they snuggled in their bed.

“He’s dead.” Her voice was so low and hoarse that Conner felt a bile of anger in his throat. Raven sounded devastatingly broken. She sounded disappointed that she did not sound like herself or was it the hurt of admitting the cruel truth out loud.

She likely needed a shower since her hair was greasy but she could not find the energy to climb out of bed and get into the shower. Couldn’t find the energy or will to do anything. She felt disgusting. Kori had informed her she was suffering from depression and when she was ready to seek therapy or medication, they would be there for her in any way. Raven did not believe she was truly depressed. The idea seemed bizarre. She had just lost...her lover. One half of her soul. Her heart had been ripped out her chest and spattered. Robin was gone. Damian.

Conner swallowed hard. The grief and sorrow were consuming her slowly, eating her up from inside out. Her face was breaking out, particularly around her forehead and chin. Her eyes had dark circles and her face appeared so shallow that she looked like a different person. This was not the Raven he knew.

Please, he begged silently, please understand. Please let me save you. Those words were the ones he wanted to voice with urgency. ‘He isn’t here but I love you’ even so he couldn’t confess his feelings for her. Not when she’s in this state.

It’s over, they were back home but it’s never over really. In her mind, she was in another world part of another constellation and system, it’s on fire. There was nothing else she could think about, nothing else she could feel. But the scalding hot flames turning her lover to ashes and dust. Reduced to nothing. In minutes Robin was gone. All Conner could feel in that moment was the blurriness in his vision perhaps caused by the sting of the radiation or the fact that he could barely get any air inside his lungs despite his alien genes. The grim realization that he probably couldn’t keep going any longer, if he didn’t step her out in time, hitting him hard and suddenly, making a rush of raw pain spread through his body like poison. There was no time to mourn Robin, there was nothing left of him to take except for his sword, which Raven clung almost inseparably to as if her life depended on it. His last possession. No time to be relieved that they were both alive, or scared to death because she was in such danger. She persisted using her powers attempting to bring the dead back to life; fruitless. No success. She used up all her magic and energy until she eventually collapsed. Conner made the decision then, quickly he took her in his arms and flew away from this everlasting bloody hell of a place.

He was right here last week and all of a sudden he was gone. “Damian is gone...” She cried painfully with broken voice, finally it all was let out with anguished screams and sobs, and then she could not breathe. All the emotions she had been holding onto for the best part of the week. She felt trapped in her own body, her mind racing at ninety miles an hour, her heart felt like it was going to explode, and then she was hyperventilating. Overwhelmed. Her boyfriend, second in command of their team and the strongest person she knew....was dead. Her gentle Damian.

After a minute she perceived a source of warmth embracing her protectively.

It was Conner and as soon as he saw Raven’s sweaty and trembling state he immediately went over to her and tried to get her to use him to support herself and get control over her breathing.

“Focus on my voice Raven." Conner whispered soothingly, stroking her dark hair until she calmed down. "You're gonna make through this, I promise." She let out another sob and he continued to rock her back and forth. He closed his eyes shut as he felt like his heart was being stabbed over and over again. Gods, how powerless he was not being able to comfort the woman he loved profoundly.

Never he thought that she would need him this much. He dreamed of having her in his arms countless times but never this way. He would have fought for her openly. Made his intentions clear as water. Why did Wayne had to be so reckless and jump to action? Where did his so called redemption and sacrifice got him?

Something else inside him twisted as he thought the kind of pain she must be feeling to let him cradle her like this. She had never shown him such vulnerability, fragility so defenseless. Somply touching her making it seem like she would vanish in the air. Yes, everyone mourned Robin but none had the right to mourn him like she did.

“He died before my eyes... I couldn’t bring him back...” As those words hit her in the chest once again for the thousandth time in five days. She squeezed violet eyes shut as fresh tears burned at now red eyes. The life they had built had crumbled away, she had none of it now. Nothing.

Her hot tears streaming down her face hit him like a punch to the gut. The sound that escaped pink lips could hardly be called human, a mix between a sob and a wail. The mournful melody of a banshee weeping resonating betond all other sounds on earth. She felt her knees buckle beneath and almost crumpled to the floor but Conner got her. He would never let her fall or suffer alone. No.

"I'm here. I will always be here for you, I promise." He vowed solemnly with firm voice, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. He wished to held her a little tighter. For a little longer. For her to see him with a new light, gave him a ray of hope.

He didn't know how long they remained like that. And honestly he didn't care. Even if his arms could hurt for holding her, and his back ached like hell for being in the same position for god knows how long. He didn’t give a single fuck.

All he cared about was that no matter what, he would have done absolutely everything in his power to make sure that she got through this. It would take a very long time. And maybe she wouldn’t be completely whole again, but whatever she had to offer him in the future. He would gladly accept it and stand by her side until the end of time. Because he understood perfectly you didn’t just move on and get over the love of your life. Conner knew it too well. He would keep her safe for him, in his name.

As the sky loved the mountains providing rain to water their trees, helping them grow strong gracefully and with ease. He would love her the same.

I’m feelings bit down so I wrote some sad and angsty Damirae/Konrae sorry 😭😭😭

Might edit later but hope you enjoy @amaati @grassfour @andthendk @xxitzmikoxx @niahti @alerialblu

[mommymooze]

Anxious Restraint

Sylvain x reader  

Warning: war, death, destruction, sad families, blood, injuries

Its a beautiful day during Great Tree Moon. Your nose is filled with the mixed scents of the flowers that are blooming everywhere, their petals catch in the winds and scatter across the cobblestones. You are strolling quietly through the pathways  of the school having just left one of your classes and heading to your next when you are suddenly joined by a fellow student, interrupting your thoughts about the upcoming battle.

Apparently, you have caught the eye of the school’s skirt-chaser, the notorious Sylvain Gautier. “Hey beautiful, how are you doing today?” He smoothly slithers up to your side, brushing his elbow up against yours.

“I’m fine, Sylvain” you respond listlessly, wishing this conversation was already over.

With his ‘every girl wants a piece of a guy who smiles like this’ look plastered on his face, he continues, “Want to grab some dinner with me today? Such a beautiful day would be even better if we shared a little time together, eh?”

Eyes straight ahead, you keep walking as if he’s not even there. “No thanks, I have to work on my magic and I was going to practice after grabbing a bite in the dining hall.”

“What about tomorrow?” He pushes.

“Tomorrow I have a test.” You just want him to stop. Mother taught you not to be rude, but he is testing every bit of your patience.

“And the next day?” He sounds desperate.

“Working with Felix on my sword skills. And improving my Pegasus riding so I can be a dark flier. I really have to get going.” Your voice getting louder as you run at top speed to anywhere before you lose your temper.

Sylvain is left in the dust, again. You’re in the same class as he is. You haven’t known him long, but Ingrid fills you in on his life history of philandering.  Classes keep everyone busy. You have to study fairly hard, but you are rewarded with great grades. Sylvain is smart, but doesn’t apply himself, he tells you he shouldn’t have to bother to be the best because no matter what, his dad’s just going to make him take his place someday. Seems like every time you see him he has a different girl hanging off his arm. He still asks you out once or twice a month. More out of a force of habit than anything else.

Time flies by with unusual problems happening quite frequently at the monastery. The Church sends the students out to fight their battles for them on a regular basis. Classes are taught, battles are won, then suddenly war is declared. The battle of Garreg Mach leaves everyone numb. You head home to find it is gone, the whole village burnt to the ground. Everyone you knew is gone, you’re unsure as to who lived and who died.  You become part of a mercenary group, continuing to fight and develop your skills and battle techniques. Your group will take any job that will take down Empire soldiers or people allied with them. Yuri hires your group a few times. Most of your jobs are in the Kingdom and Alliance territories.

Five years pass and you find yourself back at Garreg Mach, wondering if your friends will be there for the reunion planned so long ago. You are completely shocked when Byleth appears, fighting alongside a battleworn and feral Dimitri.

Once the battle ends the Blue Lions light up the stove in the kitchen, salvage what they can and cook up food that doesn’t quite go together but gets something in their stomachs for the night. Sitting around a table in the dining hall they each tell their stories of what they have been doing the past five years. Most of them protected their territories, saving their people. Byleth was sleeping, Dimitri is absent, everyone draws their own conclusions on what his time was spent on.

Sylvain finds you alone one afternoon sitting on a bench after having spent the entire day organizing and cleaning the library. “So you became a mercenary? You could have come to Gautier or even Fraldarius. Felix and I would have helped you. You didn’t have to be alone.” He said, sounding sad.

“I guess I needed to find myself after everything I knew was gone. I felt like I had to crawl my way up from the bottom. I refused to give up. I hadn’t planned on being a mercenary. I knew I wanted to keep fighting, keep working to be stronger, needing to make a difference for the right cause. Waking up every day knowing that I would work to improve the lives of the people, sure it didn’t win any major battles. But it made a difference to them. I gave them hope. Stealing supply wagons from the Empire and taking them to those that were starving or had no way to protect themselves kept me moving forward all of this time. I may have lost all of my things, but I gained a true purpose.

The next few days are filled with finding places to sleep, hunting and gathering food, repairing rooms and critical buildings, and greeting others that have returned such as Seteth and Flayn with the Knights of Seiros. You work with Byleth, offering to train anyone in reason magic.

Sylvain comes to your classes. You notice that he behaves himself, having grown up somewhat, and actually studies and gains better control of his magic. He finds you in the training grounds late one night, working with the new recruits and decides to lend a hand, helping them with their incantations, manipulation of runes or simply being encouraging.

Finally, the last student leaves. You wave as you grab your tomes and notes. Sylvain takes a seat on a nearby bench.

“You have your spellcasting mastered. I can really see the improvement since we were students.” Sylvain genuinely smiles.

You have a look of shock on your face. That has to be the sincerest compliment he has ever given you. “Um…thanks.” You weakly smile.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He says waving as he turns.

You stumble after him quickly. “Sylvain, thank you very much for helping me tonight. If you hadn’t, I could have been here until morning. That was really sweet.”

He flashes a grin at you and heads out the door. You are confused. The Sylvain you remembered from before the war was always flirting and shirking work. Now he’s helping with working and training. He actually volunteers. Maybe he really is growing up.

Battles come and battles go. Being the eye in the sky, you are always watching out for your friends. After surviving for this many years of war, it would be heart wrenching to lose any of them now. You throw a Thoron into a group of archers that are terrorizing Felix. You guide Ingrid to help Ashe when someone is sneaking up on him. Always, always you have one eye on Sylvain, making sure he doesn’t get himself surrounded or run through on an enemy’s lance. The fights are all the same, only the names of the places change and the numbers of scars on everyone ever increases.

Reclaiming the Capital is a painful battle. Everyone’s heart breaks seeing the city in such ruin. The people are hiding from the soldiers on both sides. Titanus running amok cutting down everything in their paths. You fly quickly, attacking the Empire from the air, then leading innocent citizens to safety and hauling the wounded back to the rear of the lines to get healed. Fire and smoke is everywhere. Your Pegasus is breathing hard and needs a break. You leave it with the other beasts not currently in the fight and run in on foot to see where you can assist.  You scurry back to where you had seen the heaviest fighting just in time to see the last Titanus fall with a thundering crash. Dimitri, Dedue, Felix and Sylvain are dashing towards Cornelia. As soon as you are in range you hit her two closest archers with Swarm-z, slowing them down as well as injuring them. Felix and Sylvain defeat the enemies quickly. Dedue and Dimitri are facing Cornelia. Angered by your magic, she casts Luna Λ at you.  Normally you have a fairly high magic resistance, however this is a dark magic spell that doesn’t care what your resistance is, it’s going to hit and hit hard. Your last thoughts before you lose consciousness is that your friends can finish this easily and you are glad you’re on the ground and not falling off your Pegasus.

Waking up on a hard cot in the makeshift infirmary of the palace you hear the sounds of people walking softly and whispering all around. You mentally take inventory, wiggling toes and twitching fingers. Opening your eyes you have to blink a few times before you can finally get them to focus. At first you only see oranges and blacks, then you can focus a bit and see Sylvain and Annette standing at the foot of your cot. You see her point your direction and he turns to face you. He was frowning but when your eyes meet his, his face relaxes.

Kneeling down at the head of your bed he says softly, “Hey, welcome back. Think you can take a drink for me?” pulling a waterskin to your lips and lifting your head a bit, helping you take a few sips.

The water is cool and feels amazing on your parched throat. “Mmmm. Thanks.” You whisper as you smile up at him.

“Let’s see. What did you miss? After Cornelia hit you with that spell, she was easily taken down by Dimitri and Dedue. The fighting was over soon after that, we just had to take out a few pockets of enemy soldiers here and there.  As you can tell we took over the royal palace. The people rallied outside and demanded Dimitri to present himself to them. They’re accepting him as king and happy to have him back. Your Pegasus is in the royal stables, Ingrid was able to coax her in there. I had no idea she hates men so much, I almost lost my right hand, gauntlet and all.” Sylvain chuckles softly.

“Sorry. She was probably mad at me for leaving her in the first place. Glad I did.” You take another drink, the fog in your head lifting a little more.

Sylvain looks up at Annette, who is getting some bandages together for another patient. “Do you think she’ll be able to make it to the party tonight?”

“If she behaves. She’ll have to take it easy.” The shorter redhead points at you. “No dancing the night away.”

The cavalier pats your shoulder, “It’s nothing big, just the Lions hanging out together, to relax a minute before the next battle. Gotta take a break sometime, right?”

“I will try to make it. I haven’t even tried to sit up yet.” You mumble.

“When you’re ready we’ll sit you up. If you want to eat we’ll get you some food.” He begins, “After you’ve settled a bit we’ll try to get you walking around and show you to a room so you can clean up and change. I’ll come by before the party and help you get there if you want to go. Sometimes these corridors can all look alike. Wouldn’t want you spending half the night trying to find your way there.”

“Sitting up sounds like a good start.” You propose, knowing that magical wounds take time you recall. There’s only so much healing magic and potions they can pour into you. You weren’t sliced open and didn’t lose blood. Mostly once you wake up, you could go about your business, just treading a bit more carefully.

The cavalier is tall and agile, stepping over a few empty cots with his long legs he grabs a wooden chair and sits it down at the head of your bed. Before you can start to turn to stand up, he picks you up and gently places you seated in the chair.

“Wow.” You gasp. “Um..thanks.” a tinge of red warms across your cheeks.

“I grabbed one with arms so if you’re still tired you would have something to lean on. Are you feeling alright so far?”  He has the tiniest upturn to the corners of his mouth.

He looks adorable, you think to yourself. Wait. Sylvain. Adorable? Um…hey brain, are you going to answer him? “My head is a bit fuzzy.”

“I’ll check on you in a while, in time for lunch, ok?” the redhead says as he pats your hand while he walks past and leaves.

You sit looking around the room. Soldiers mixed with citizens. A woman with her baby is holding hands with a man that looks like he was badly burned. You can see the strength and determination in her face, she is being strong for him. A young boy sitting by the cot of an older man that is sleeping. The clerics are checking bandages, stopping to talk to every patient and giving them words of encouragement. The physical fighting here has ended, now everyone is gathering themselves together, healing, and getting ready to rebuild and make a better world.

You start moving yourself, getting your blood flowing and stretching, kicking your feet for a while then holding them up in the air. Soon you feel brave enough to try to stand up. Putting your feet on the ground you use the chair to help you stand on your own feet. You don’t feel like falling over, no affects so far except for some anxiety. You spy a chair 15 feet away and decide to go the distance. Your first few steps are taken gingerly, but you gain a bit of confidence and make it the last few steps fine. Sitting down your legs gave a bit so you came down a bit hard, but it felt good to move. Now you realize that you are in a simple gown and socks. Not exactly the best clothes for heading out of here, hopefully someone will be by soon to tell you what to do next. After taking a careful stroll back to your original chair, you spy Annette coming down the row of cots, checking on patients. You take a sip of water and wait for your turn.

“How’s your head? Any signs of a headache? Any pain anywhere?” Her bright and cheery smile always makes you smile back at her.

“I feel pretty good. Whoever worked on me did an amazing job. I just have a tiny headache. I’ve even been taking a few steps back and forth between the chairs here. So what should I do next?”

Annette reaches under your cot for a small bundle. ”We have a change of clothes and boots for you.” She shows you to the bathroom to change. You nod happily, “I would love to get real clothes on. It gives you the mental kick like you’re getting back to normal.”

“You have a great attitude! I’ll bet you’re fine in no time.” The redhead bubbles, walking with you to the powder room.

Clothes changed, washing your face and hands, you feel like a gold bullion. No mirrors in here, probably so the recovering wounded are not shocked about how they look after battle and keep concentrating on healing. You feel much more confident walking back to the chair by your cot.  Observing the healers running around, you feel quite useless and guilty for not being able to help them.  Before you spiral too far into a frustrating mindset, Sylvain arrives.

“Look at you, all ready to go!” He smiles. “They said if I take it easy with you, we can get you to the dining hall. Ready to give it a go?” He stands next to your chair, his elbow ready for you to grab it for support if needed.

“Sounds wonderful.” You stand up and place your hand on his forearm letting him lead you out of the infirmary.

The first few times he spies a bench he checks if you want to rest or keep going. The continued movement is a little tiring, but also feels really good getting your heart pumping. Once you really begin to feel tired you are already at the dining hall. Felix, Ingrid and Ashe already at the table with their food.

“Welcome back!” Ingrid smiles, waving with a roll in her hand. Felix does his usual nod in your general direction. Ashe waves excitedly as he tries to chew whatever he has in his mouth faster.

“Great to see you!” Ashe begins, switching to recalling his view of the end of the battle. “I saw Cornelia hit you with that spell, it was so scary. You were taking out her archers protecting her and then Bam! This ball of black and purple hit you and you go down. Dimitri and Dedue took her out and when Felix and Sylvain finished her other archers they put you on Sylvain’s horse and he took you straight back to the healers.”

Sylvain returns to the table with a tray full of food. “So I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I brought a few things. Doesn’t matter because whatever you don’t eat, Ingrid will finish for you.”

“Hey!” Ingrid puts her hands on her hips, pouting for a second. Then she changes her mind. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

You decide the soup and a soft roll may be a good place to start. Everyone chats about things that happened in the fight, trying to concentrate on good things that happened such as saving a child or protecting a merchant.

“Oh Ingrid! Thank you for taking care of my Pegasus and getting her stabled.” You happily pat her hand in thanks.

“It was nothing. She was being feisty and knucklehead over there tried to grab her reins and she didn’t take to it too kindly.” Ingrid grinned at the cavalier. “they are not the same as horses!”

The redhead puts his hands up, “I get it! I get it!”

Lunch ends and before you get a chance Sylvain grabs everyone’s dishes and piles them on his tray to take back.

You raise an eyebrow at Ingrid, she shrugs her shoulders. Felix and Ashe are already out the door talking about some training they are interested in. Ingrid says she will check on your Pegasus and let you know this evening how things are. You assure her you’re going to try to make the gathering tonight.

Sylvain returns, placing his arm at the ready, you grab on and as he escorts you, talking about his history here, having grown up frequently visiting the palace, how he would chase Ingrid, Dimitri and Felix down the halls until they would get in trouble and their amazing snowball fights in the courtyards.  He leads you down the corridor to your room. Annette and Mercedes are staying in the room next to yours.

“Who am I bunked up with?” You wonder.

“Nobody. This is all for you. The room is huge with a sitting area, a grand fireplace, a huge bed with multiple fluffy pillows and a bathroom with bathtub big enough to swim in. You spy your bags set on tables next to the dressers.

“I am so confused.” You don’t realize you are speaking out loud. “Why this special treatment? I’m just like everyone else. I don’t understand?”

“Remember when we were up against Cornelia?” Sylvain explains. “The person she looked at, the one she needed to stop first wasn’t Dimitri, wasn’t Dedue, it was you. You’re the most powerful mage we have.  Sure, Annette is pretty amazing, but she can’t do the damage you do. Cornelia saw it. I know you can dance circles around me. You’re pretty terrifying. We’re thrilled to have you on our side.”

You’re absolutely flabbergasted. You never compare yourself to anyone else. You go out, do your job. You feel a blush to your cheeks even though you find this hard to believe.

The redhead continues, “Then there’s the fact that you do this while flying on your Pegasus. We’ve seen you do maneuvers on that animal that shock Ingrid. You make some seriously fast dives, then stop. The wind force from its wings is stronger than some of Annette’s spells. I’ve seen enemy archers rolling over backwards from it.”

You could be knocked over by a Pegasus feather. You’re just a regular person in the army and he’s put you up on a pedestal…wait. This is Sylvain you’re thinking about. But it’s not his usual flirting escapades. Where is that flirtatious attitude anyway? You have spent a lot of time with him today and walked past plenty of pretty ladies, but you can’t recall his saying hello or paying a compliment to any of them.

“I think I should get a nap.” You say, not sure if you’re overwhelmed or tired or both.

“I’ll let you rest then. I’ll be back for you to get you to the party in plenty of time. See you in a few hours!” Sylvain smiles widely as he heads out the door, closing it behind him.

You sneak over to the door, hearing his footsteps going off into the distance. You peek out to watch him head down the long hallway. You watch him walk past a few female fellow soldiers without a hitch in his step. He comes to the end of the hallway where a cute maid is dusting a portrait and he just keeps going, not even giving the maid a sideways glance. Who is this guy and what have they done with Sylvain? You’re not sure, but you need to find out.

You decide a bath then a nap may clear your head. There are wonderful smelling soaps with flowers imbedded in them and something that smells fresh and relaxing for your hair. Cleansed and warm, it is definitely nap time. You comb your hair out, braiding it a bit and surround yourself by the fluffy pillows. You are asleep as soon as your head hits the pillows.

Several hours later you wake up, glad to see it’s not dark outside yet. You dress in a soft blue tunic and black slacks with your boots. You let your braids loose so your hair can dry. You head next door to visit Annette and Mercedes.

“Knock, knock, anyone home?” You chuckle.

“Hey! Come in!” Annette’s bubbly voice calls back. You enter, hmm, their room is much smaller than yours. You frown.

“Merci’s in the bath right now. Do you feel well enough to join us tonight?” Annette is looking at two outfits she has laid out on the bed, trying to decide which dress to wear.

“I’m about ready. I need to fix my hair a bit, that’s all.” You pause. “Annie, if I ask you some questions will you answer me honestly?”

“Pssshhh. Of course. We have no secrets.” The blue eyed woman smiles from ear to ear.

You want to ask her the right way, not fishing for compliments, because you don’t want that. “So. I’m just one of the many mages in the army, right? I’m no different than any other Pegasus rider. Just a regular old normal person.”

“Well…” Annette scrunches her eyebrows and puts her finger to her chin. “For Faith magic, nobody can beat Merci. Reason magic I’m pretty good, but you’re better than me, and Byleth too. You’re the only one that can cast Dark magic. Byleth does call on you frequently to do some very tough jobs, being out on the front lines where normally mages are not.”

“You can be quite scary!” Laughs Mercedes as she emerges from the bath in a short tunic and her slips. “A bolt of darkness coming down like a demon on the dark wings of your steed.”

“I guess I’m just confused by Sylvain. Did Byleth tell him to watch over me or something?” You look so flustered.

Mercie puts her hand over her mouth to hide a giggle.

“You should have seen him when he saw Cornelia hit you with her spell!” Annette is leaning so far forward off the bed she’s going to fall over any minute. “You fell over and he tried to run over there. Felix nearly pulled his arm out of his socket. He had to stay and finish the archers. Sylvain insisted on getting you back to the healer’s tent as fast as possible.”

“Why am I in a big room at the end of the hall all by myself? Shouldn’t I be bunked with someone?” You are grasping at anything trying to make sense of today.

“That could be from me.” Mercedes advises. “I did tell Dimitri that you need peace and quiet, healing from a magic injury is impeded by stress like loud noises or bad roommates.”

You shake your head a bit. Maybe you’re just tired and after a good night’s sleep you’ll be better in the morning. You remind yourself not to stay up too late at the party.

The three of you chat a bit, getting into gossip and girl talk. Dimitri and Byleth have been getting closer now that he has been feeling much better. You elbow the red-headed mage sitting next to you on the bed, teasing her about a certain dedicated swordsman. She refuses to admit if they have kissed yet, but by the redness on her cheeks, there is something going on there for sure. Mercedes admits to having a few cooking dates with Dedue. He is showing her how to make some dishes. She’s always felt comfortable baking desserts but not cooking main courses and side dishes.

The two ladies corner you asking if you have your heart set on anyone. Sheepishly you have to shrug your shoulders. You haven’t had time to do much beyond teaching the new mages and their battalions, being sent on a few covert missions, and working with the Pegasus knights training, working the stables and working out with your own steed. You see Ingrid the most of the group, frequently Dorothea would be hanging out nearby waiting for her.

Suddenly you notice the time and need to get back to your room to finish getting ready. You wave goodbye and will see them in a little while. There is a lovely vanity with an adjustable mirror. You take a seat and decide to braid your hair in one of the more intricate braids like Petra had shown you in recent months. Tying it with a white ribbon you leave it on your right shoulder.  Dusting your cheeks with a light rouge and dabbing your lips with a bit of color you’re done. This has probably been the closest you’ve been to being dressed up since the war started.

A knock on the door brings your attention back from staring at your face in the mirror. You walk quickly to the door to find Sylvain there, smiling brightly.

“You look…like you are feeling much better. Did you get to rest?” he asks.

“I feel great, I’m sure tomorrow I will feel even better.” You smile as he steps back to let you exit the room and he closes the door behind you. You grab the crook of his elbow like you had done earlier and he leads you to the parlor where the gathering is taking place.

“It is great to just hang out together for once. It has been exhausting.” Sylvain announces.

“War takes so much out of you. We have come so far, just a little bit more.” You sigh wistfully.

“The end is in sight.” The tall redhead says quietly. After a pause, he asks, “So have you thought about what you’re going to do after the war?”

“I don’t know.” You slow your pace, trying to gather your thoughts as you walk. “I’ve been so busy with the war, its hard to think about it being over. There is still going to be a million things that have to be done. Setting up government, rebuilding, trying to get everyone to work together. The work never ends.”

“Well, let’s not think about all that work for tonight.” He says as he pauses outside the room. “Let’s relax for just a bit before it all starts over again tomorrow.”

Inside the parlor is a large table with many chairs. Tables loaded with foods, fruits, savory treats and desserts. A large circle of comfortable chairs, couches, loveseats and settees with small tables scattered between them is the right, a few seats already occupied by Dedue, Dimitri, Byleth and Ingrid.

Everyone stands and greets you as you enter. You hug them all, so happy to be back together with everyone. Sylvain holds his hands out hopefully.

“Of course, you didn’t get one yet either.” You smile as you place your arms around him for his hug as well. He smells good. He hugs back ever so gently, his touch is feather light.

Byleth returns to the settee that she is sharing with Dimitri and asks you to sit next to her. You take a spot on the loveseat and chat with her about what happened during the battle from her point of view and she shares how proud she is of everyone. The rest of the Blue Lions filter into the room. Sylvain hands you a glass of water with lemon slices in it then walks over to talk to Felix who has found the spicy meatballs.

Once everyone has a drink in hand, Dimitri offers a toast thanking them all for their help in taking back the Kingdom capital. Plaudits of the attendees fill the room.

The conversations are lively. Ashe sits next to you for a while, talking about some new books he has ordered and offers to let you read them after he is finished. Annette also sits next to you for a while, talking about all of the different and delicious desserts. You prefer the peach tart, however you agree that the strawberry cheesecake is simply divine. The redhead then joins Felix on the couch on the other side of the room. Sylvain stands between you and Byleth, talking about differences in armor quality and comparing different blacksmiths. You invite him to ‘take a load off’ has he likes to say to others, as you move to let him sit next to Byleth and you sit on the other side of the seat, patting the loveseat for him to sit himself. He nods and smiles as he takes a seat and continues his conversation with the former Professor. Mercedes bustles through the room, taking your empty plate and another that Annette had left on the side table.

Sylvain finishes his conversation and looks out into the room. You tap him on the hand to get his attention.

“What have you been up to today?” You ask him.

“I had to work on repairs for my saddle, one of the cinching straps had become frayed. I don’t need it breaking and falling off in the middle of battle. I also had to make sure my horse is in great shape, trimmed her hooves and then took her out for a ride. I used to ride a lot out here with Dimitri. It was good to feel the wind through my hair, the sun on my back and simply ride just for the sake of riding.”

“That sounds delightful.” You think wistfully. “Just going for a ride to be riding. Can’t wait to be able to do that again.”

“Any time you are up for it I would be happy if you would like to join me.” Sylvain smiles.

You gently wrap your tiny hand around his much larger, calloused hand. “Sounds great.”

Another hour of chatting with your friends goes by until a yawn suddenly escapes your lips.

Sylvain immediately notices. “Looks like you have had enough fun for today. I should take you back, okay?”

“Mmmm. I agree. Mercedes will tie me to a cot if I don’t rest.” You giggle

Mercedes laughs, “I have ways of making you sleep.” Her voice is much deeper, lower than normal as she squints her eyes menacingly. She wiggles her fingers in a creepy taunting manner at you, making you laugh even more. Sylvain stands and offers his elbow for you to take. Both of you bid goodnight to everyone as you head back out to the corridors of the palace. You are silent as you both walk back to your room. At the door he is preparing to take his leave.

Placing your hand on his shoulder you stop him from moving. “I would like to talk with you, that is, if you want to speak with me as well.”

He gives a slight smile and follows you into your room. You move to the sitting area. You take a seat on a soft cushioned char, he sits on an identical chair next to you.

“First, thank you so much for all of the help you have provided to me today. Bringing water, helping steady me in the hallways, and making certain I was not lost wandering the palace looking for the party.” You say this with all the sincerity you can muster, placing your left hand on your chest to show your heartfelt thanks.

“It was the least I could do. You have given of yourself over and over, it was wonderful being able to help you today.” A tinge of red covers his cheeks. “You really should get some rest.”

You really want to talk to him but he is right, you can barely keep your eyes open. He opens the door to leave, but you hold your arms out to give him a hug goodnight. He gently wraps his arms around yours as you press your cheek into his chest, exhaling with a sigh. You wave as he steps through the threshold and closes the door.

 The early morning war council is held in one of the palace’s meeting rooms. Dimitri shares a message delivered to him earlier this morning. It is a plea for assistance from the alliance, Claude asks for help in Derdriu. Everyone agrees to make the detour to the city then head on towards Enbarr to finish the war.

Arriving at the coastal city, Claude has done an excellent job preparing the city for the fight with the Empire. The battle zone has been evacuated of the citizens and merchants. They only ones involved in the fighting are soldiers. The Kingdom’s army is motivated and strong, overtaking the Empire forces in record time.

There is a meeting between Dimitri, Byleth and Claude. Claude announces he is headed for his own future and wishes everyone well.

The Kingdom marches for Enbarr. The final battle in the war. Edelgard does nothing to prepare the citizens, they flee in the streets as the fight rages around them. The fight is long and bloody. There is no surrendering by Edelgard, she and Hubert fight until their last breath.

You volunteer to stay behind, but Ashe, Ingrid, Dorothea, Linhardt and Caspar remain to start the repairs and healing from the war. The rest return to the north. Sylvian and Felix return to their territories to check on everything and keep their lands going.

Back in the Kingdom capital, your days are filled with rebuilding, not just the buildings, but the mind and bodies of the citizens. You are always amongst the people, one day clearing rubble, the next helping in the orphanages, another day watching a mother’s children so she could take care of business. You explain you are doing this for king and country. If there is anyone to thank, it is Dimitri.

Soon everyone is gathered here again, this time for Dimitri’s coronation. The ceremony is long. Byleth being the archbishop has the honor of placing the crown upon the king. There are so many speeches and the lords of every territory must approach the king and promise their allegiance.

A grand ball celebrating the coronation is held in the evening. King Dimitri is seated at the head table, next to Archbishop Byleth. Felix is next to Dimitri as his chief advisor, Dedue next to him as his Vassal. Ashe and Ingrid are knights, standing guard behind them. They insisted on working, reveling in the honor of being among the first to protect the newly crowned King.

You sit with Annette, Mercedes, Dorothea, Caspar, Linhardt and Sylvain. The conversation is never ending, you haven’t seen several of them for months, so everyone has to catch up. Mercedes and Dedue are engaged. Annette and Felix are officially a couple, as well as Caspar and Linhardt. You have been busy helping restore the school of sorcery. They have been begging you to become a teacher, you are still considering your options.

The orchestra on the opposite side of the ballroom begins to play. The king and archbishop take the floor, starting the dancing for the remaining couples. Sylvain had been seated next to Dorothea and they spoke quietly with each other several times during dinner. You would look up and smile at him and he would always return the gesture.

After the first song ends, it was time for the rest of the couples to dance. You are shocked when he stands and walks over to you, asking you to dance with him. He takes your hand and leads you to the floor. The first few minutes you smile at each other. Then you hear him sigh. You catch his eyes and he smiles at you.

“I’ve missed you.” Sylvain whispers softly in your ear.

“I was hoping you lived close enough that you could come visit here more frequently. Maps can be quite deceiving.” You frown briefly, “How are things in Gautier?”

Sylvain seems to stiffen a bit. “My father is going to step down, leaving me to take his place.”

You try not to frown, “Is that what you want to do?”

He hesitates as the song is ending and he asks you to step outside with him. You stroll through the gardens together, the smell of moist earth and roses fills the air. You stop far enough away that the brightness of the party no longer blocks the light of the stars on this perfectly clear night.

He seats you on a bench, taking a the spot next to you. He leans back and looks up at the stars.

You can’t look away from his face, so you simply watch him watching the twinkling in the skies.

He gently takes your hand in his. “I never wanted to take my father’s place. I never wanted to be like him or like he wanted me to be. I was always such a rebel. I wanted to ruin the world around me, pay it back for all the pain that I had been through. There was nothing that I was looking forward to, being forced to fit in the mold that my father made for me. When they had announced that Dimitri would be executed it made my father physically ill. The kingdom had fallen that day to him. He had no hope left. He stopped pushing me to get married. He couldn’t arrange anything, not knowing who would come out victorious. He didn’t know if he would be keeping his position or would the Empire trample him into the ground. He stopped leaning on me that I would have to be the next margrave, not having any idea how long he was to be the current one. I no longer had anything to defy, to rebel against. I pulled back. I had to learn how to take care of myself properly. Then we came back for the reunion. I had been feeling sorry for myself, then I found out you had lost everything. I saw how strong you had become. Even though you had nothing you had such passion to help everyone else to be better. It was so beautiful. I had never seen anything so beautiful. It wasn’t just a smile, a pretty face, it was radiating from so deep within you. I wanted to be near you, that’s why I had offered to help you, just to be near you. I knew I wasn’t worthy of you. But if I helped you at least I could be close to you. When Cornelia hurt you, I went mad. I thought you were dead. Felix brought me back, telling me we had to finish what you started. I wanted to talk to you after you were recovering, but then we were pulled into Derdriu and went to Enbarr right after that. And then I had to go back to Gautier. After the war, when I went back I thought my father would lord over me, make me continue to do everything his way. But he’s become tired. My parents are going to move to the coast to spend the rest of their days. Managing Gautier is left to me to handle as I see fit. I’ve been working on reaching out to the Sreng, to see if we can find peace between us. Everyone is so tired of the fighting. I know I am. Maybe I could be the Margrave, but I can’t do it alone. I’d like you to help me, teach me to be a good leader, to do right by my people. I would do anything and everything for you.”

You squeeze his hand. “At the reunion I noticed a big change in you. I wanted to talk to you about it but the war never let us have five minutes to ourselves. I noticed you were behaving differently. I wanted so badly to talk to you after we won back the capital, but the war jumped between us again. Maybe the only way I can have an opportunity to speak with you for any length of time would be to go to Gautier with you.” You grin at him.

“I really don’t deserve you.” He puts his arm around you for a half hug. “I know you are so good with the people. Everyone here loves you.” He rests his cheek on the top of your head.

You’re beginning to become flustered. At the moment you miss the old flirty Sylvain. He’s acting..shy? Inviting you to Gautier sounded like a business transaction more than inviting a woman over. “Are you seeing anyone right now? Have you decided what you want to do for yourself?” you ask.  

“Uh. No. I haven’t really thought about it for a long time. Its like once the pressure was off from my father, I just didn’t need to do that anymore. But yeah, I want to get married to a woman that I love, maybe have children, and shower them with as much love as I can muster. Make peace with the Sreng. Make the people of Gautier happy too. What about you? Are you seeing anyone? What do you want?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to get married and have children. Now that the war is over that certainly is a possibility.” You begin. “And you know I like to help people, help them help themselves. I am seriously considering a job offer that I feel I am qualified for. I’m thrilled to find that someone I have been interested in for quite a while is currently single. So things are looking pretty good.” You look up at his face smiling.

Sylvain looks down at you smiling, but unsure.

Your hands slide up his chest, going around his neck and you pull him down toward you, finally he gets the idea and bends down to kiss you gently.

“That took you forever.” You gasp smiling up at him.

“I thought I had already missed my chance. I thought at least if I could be near you that would be fine.” He smiles, kissing you again.

“Ever since I saw you at the reunion, I could tell you were different in the best sort of way. You weren’t hiding behind a mask, you were acting like yourself. As long as you be your true self with me, I will always want to be near you.” You hold Sylvain tightly under the stars.

 *****Epilogue

The wedding is the following spring. Both of you frequently travel all about Gautier territory, constantly talking with the people and responding to their needs. You find some people that speak Sreng and learn the language and culture well enough to be able to parlay and work towards a peace agreement. You give up some of the Gautier lands that the Sreng say are important to them. In turn they pay for this property with many rare minerals and jewels that are from their lands. You use this money to improve the roads and lives for the people of Gautier. Sylvain does spoil you rotten. You have at least 8 children and have no idea if any has a crest, not that you care. The Lance of Ruin is given to Byleth to do whatever she wants with the horrid weapon.

[xaviersfandomwriting]

The Importance of First Impressions

Or: How Remus Got Himself Kidnapped, Like An Idiot.

Hoo boy. This is, or rather was supposed to be my gift for @arc-gx for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange for this past Christmas. I’m sorry for taking this long to get it out, I just kept putting it off and putting it off and all of a sudden it’s mid-January like wtf… Anyway, they asked for Logan angst or intrulogical and I figured “why not both?” and here we are. Again, super sorry this is almost a month late, but here you go. This is actually the first fanfic that I’ve ever actually finished, so any tips are greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 1120

Summary: When a royal wedding is disrupted by tragedy, Roman must go forth and rescue his brother, but does Remus really want to be saved?

Pairings: romantic intrulogical, familial creativitwins

Warnings: Homophobia (being forced into a het marriage), unsympathetic Logan (but it’s just acting dw), minor innuendo, major character near-death, general angst (most of it’s just Roman being dramatic tho)

Today was supposed to be one of celebration, of merriment! The crown prince was to be married, and to the princess of an incredibly powerful neighboring kingdom, one which Prince Remus was to rule over, once the day comes. At least, that was the plan. Tragedy had struck, the prince had been kidnapped by a dark mage, and was being held hostage. Naturally, Prince Roman, being the proud and chivalrous young man that he was, immediately volunteered to lead a mission to rescue his brother. It was only now, as he approached the dark tower which had loomed along the horizon for the entirety of Roman’s travels, that he began to have second thoughts about the advisability of this mission.

He had started this quest with 10 of the kingdom’s greatest knights, only for each to either meet his end or turn around and head home, leaving the prince alone in his journey. He tactfully approached the entrance, checking for any sign of magical traps. Thankfully there were none to be found, and he soon found himself standing in the center of a massive entrance hall.

“Face me, magician!” he bellowed into the empty building. Though he was at first only met with a fading echo, soon enough a deep chuckling ricocheted throughout the chamber, the shadows seeming to bend together into a human form at the top of the ornate staircase across the hall.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting yet more royal blood to enter my domain,” the sorcerer’s hands burst alight with blue flame, brightly illuminating the previously dim room, “did you come here, all on your own, in some vain attempt to ‘rescue’ your brother? How delightfully lamentable. Soon you’ll be disposed of in much the same way he was.”

Roman charged for the stairs, only for the sorcerer to disappear once more. Likewise, the shadows of the room began to pool beneath the prince, forming a swirling mass beneath his feet just before giving way, sending him falling through an inky void. Not for long, however, as soon another such portal formed pulling Roman back to the tower, though he now found himself leaning against the parapets for support, easily hundreds of feet above the entrance hall he stood in only moments before. Before him stood his quarry, an indigo staff materializing in his hands, glowing with arcane energy.

Roman leapt forward, driving his sword toward the man who kidnapped his brother, only for the mage to easily deflect the blade with his staff. He deftly leapt backwards, only for Roman to charge forward again, feinting a similar attack, only to thrust his pommel into the sorcerer’s gut and sweep his leg beneath him.

The spellcaster was caught off guard by the sudden move and found himself on the ground with the tip of the prince’s blade pressed against his windpipe before he could react.

Roman glowered at the man before him. “Give me one good reason not to run my blade through your throat, slime.”

The magician’s eyes widened at his words, he made to scramble backwards, only for the blade to follow until his head knocked against the stone wall of the parapets. “I… You- I-” she stammered, gulping.

The prince raised his blade, ready to end this pitiful excuse for a dark mage until a voice cried out from the stairwell into the tower. “ROMAN, NO! STOP!”

The sound of his brother’s voice made the prince drop his blade in shock. He whipped around to see the crown prince, looking just as resplendent as the day he was kidnapped. He ran between his brother and the sorcerer, ready to protect his captor.

“Remus I- wha-” Now Roman found himself unable to form words. “What in the name of all things good and gay in this land is going on?”

“Well, this might take a little bit of explanation...” Remus failed to meet his brother’s eyes for a moment. “I may have… staged my own kidnapping? With Logan’s help?”

Roman looked aghast “You what?” staged his own kidnapping? How- why- so many questions swirled through the younger prince’s head as he fell to his knees. “I- I don’t… understand.”

“It’s quite simple, actually.” The sorcerer, Logan, had stood back up, dusting himself off. “Your brother asked me to deliver him from the castle to, as I believe he put it ‘get out of that damn nasty het marriage mom and dad are trying to force me into for the good of the kingdom or some dumb crap’, and I simply had to play the part of evil sorcerer in order to scare off any would-be knights in shining armor. I must say, it was rather entertaining. Not to mention some of the… other benefits.” the previously stoic man shot the crown prince a sly look.

“Oh my stars, please don’t. I have to put up with that sort of talk enough whenever he’s around.” Roman looked away from the two, his face growing several shades redder. “So, Remus doesn’t want to come back. But I can’t exactly go home empty handed, what am I supposed to say, ‘Oh I’m sorry guys turns out the prince just noped out of here! Sorry, better luck next monarch!’ I mean I might have to take up the crown at this point, and it’s not exactly as if I could pass off as straight or anything. Mom and Dad aren’t gonna be happy, whatever happens.”

“Well, that doesn’t have to necessarily be the case.” Logan’s hands glowed, producing a large bucket filled with ash. “Here’s what you should do...”

“And so, the prince solemnly returned to the capital, bringing back word that his older brother had perished by the sorcerer’s doing. Roman had dispatched the magician himself, but it was too late for the crown prince. In light of his sorrow over the events which took place, as well as his lack of preparedness, Roman chose to abdicate the throne, leading to a succession crisis lasting nearly a decade. The former prince secluded himself from public life, never really seen in public again. Secretly, he had fled the kingdom not long after his abdication, making a name for himself as a valiant knight. As for his brother, he and the magician who he had asked to kidnap him lived a peaceful, happy life together. The end.”

“Jeez bro, you wrote a whole fairy tale fic just to ship me and Logic?” Remus dangled down from the top bunk of their shared bed in the mindscape.

“...shut up” Roman snatched the leatherbound book from his twin, putting it alongside all the other “side fics” that were never meant to see the light of day, even if Remus kept finding them.

[irwinkitten]

men of mayhem | a.i

notes: so the majority of this is written already. but i probably won’t post the next part too soon. however, this is a sons of anarchy!au and i’ve been so excited about. you do NOT need to have watched the show to know what’s going on, but if you have seen the show, you may spot some familiar names and places. to give you a rough timeline, the oc (Michelle) and Ashton are born in 1978 and this part has various stages. She attends university in 1996 and the ending is taking place in the summer of 1998. We don’t see all of the guys in this part, but they will be making more appearances as the story goes on! A big thank you to @sexgodashton​ for going over this with a fine tooth comb and to @spicycal​ and @softbabiestan​ for being my cheerleaders. Love you guys.  warnings: mentions of violence, hints of smut, mentions of guns word count: 5.7k

donate to my ko-fi here 

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               When Michelle Morgan left the small town of Charming at the age of eighteen to pursue her dream career, she knew she was leaving behind more than her parents and baby brother, Matty. She was leaving behind a group who she’d grown up with. Many said that her childhood sweetheart would leave her in the dust, break her heart whilst she was in the big city, studying her chosen profession. But those many knew nothing about her hometown life.

Growing up with the Irwin’s had been something of a blessing for her. The Morgan’s took it as the sign that it was, because nobody in Charming messed with the Irwin’s. Although her father had never joined SAMCRO—the known biker gang who ran many things off the books as well as their mechanics business—he fully supported them, helping out with transport when they needed it. 

Her friendship with Ashton—the only son of Anne-Marie and Bert Irwin—only formed because she’d been cornered by the playground bullies at the age of five, and her vicious kicks to their shins followed by Ashton pulling them away from her had the two kids as thick as thieves since.

They’d been childhood sweethearts from the get go, and with the rest of SAMCRO being an influence in her life, her father knew that she was going to be involved somehow. Her mother  first mentioned being Ashton’s “Old Lady” when they were sixteen—celebrating her sixteenth birthday no less—causing both teens to blush furiously at her words. The other club members had laughed, and despite her bright red face, she scoffed.

“Don’t like the idea of that, lil’ lady?” Bert teased her, the nickname filled with nothing but the affection that he and Anne both had for Michelle.

“Someone is gonna have to pull your sorry asses outta the fire when your plans go to shit. That’s gonna be me. I’m gonna study and get into those bigshot firms. And I’m gonna come back and keep the lotta you out of trouble.” She missed Ashton’s look of awe, but the other club members hadn’t. 

But her words had hit home for them, and so they toasted her luck on her sixteenth birthday.

That night, when the two were hidden away in their den—despite what their parents assumed when Ashton pulled her away—they were lay on the various throws and pillows that lived on the floor, cuddled up as he played with her fingers, gently bringing her knuckles up to his lips.

“Did you mean that Micha? You really gonna go away for however long it takes to be a big shot lawyer?” When it was just the two of them, he never hid from her. The fear was laid out for her to see.

“It’s gonna be seven years of school at least. Maybe a couple more to work with the big firms and get cases under my belt.” 

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Silence for them never had been since he’d confessed that he loved her when they were fourteen and had loved her since they were six. 

“Ten years is a long time, sweetheart.” She turned in his arms to face him, her eyes searching his face. She could see the fear sitting there, plain as day for her. 

“It is. But I’m not letting you go, Irwin. We’ve got ten years of love on our side, with another two before I’d have to go to University. Surely we can make it through another ten? I know your dad won’t put you on any of the runs, not till you turn twenty one. Which means we got four years of unfiltered time for you coming to visit, right?” 

“Of course.” He whispered, his lips brushing against hers softly. “Reckon you’ll let me into your pants before you leave?” And she giggled, his own face lighting up in joy.

“Reckon you can wait till I’ve gotta leave. I know you’re not gonna complain when my lips can be put to better use for the next two years.” He rolled over with a playful growl, pinning her down which earned a small giggle as he playfully nipped at her neck. 

“I reckon I can do that. But, I’ve gotta treat my birthday girl tonight.” His lips met hers and she didn’t argue. 

When she was accepted into University, the club had celebrated with her, watching in anticipation for her acceptance. She’d studied so hard for her entrance exams and had already imparted some knowledge to Bert to keep him out of trouble.

Her first year had been daunting. Ashton visited her once a month at most thanks to the cost of gas, but it was enough for them.

That was when people began to tell her that they’d never last. 

Men in her class would tell her that she’d be better off with them, but Michelle held her own. They didn’t like that. They tried to get vicious with her in the mock court sessions and various debates, but she had a secret weapon.

She’d grown up with SAMCRO, and in the words of Chibs, “she’s got balls of diamond that one”. Ashton had laughed at his words, and she’d thrown the drinks mat at his face, making the other club members laugh.

When she’d come home for the holidays, Bert had heard enough from Ashton to track her down and ask her if she wanted a second layer of protection. 

“I can’t give you Ashton, I need him here unfortunately. Him and Hood get into enough trouble.” This made her grin. 

“Throw in Hemmings and Clifford, and that’s going to be a disaster when they start doing runs.” Bert had snorted at her words.

“Either it’ll be crazy enough that it’ll work or a disaster.” He muttered before pulling the two of them back on track. “Instead of Ash, I figured it was about time that Chibs and I taught you how to shoot a gun, don’t you think?” 

“I know how to shoot a gun,” came back the retort, and Bert smiled.

“Ah, but from a moving vehicle? And what about awareness of your surroundings, lil’ lady?” Michelle paused before reluctantly shaking her head at his questions.

“I guess not.” She finally muttered and he grinned.

“Chibs and I will start you tomorrow. Ash can come as well. Maybe get him to rope Hood, Hemmings and Clifford into it. The four of them are gonna be a force to reckon with when he takes over.” 

“Oh no bet on that one. Cal will be his VP. You need to make sure that Bobby doesn’t murder them when they prank him because you know he’s gonna be their easy target.” 

The two of them made their way back into the Irwin household. Michelle laughed as her little brother rushed to greet her. It had definitely been strange being away from Matty for so long.“You’re not wrong. C’mon lil’ lady. You’ve been missed by a lot of people.” 

He’d guided her into the main dining and sitting room to find nearly all of the club there along with what was considered the next generation of club members. All of the younger members kept away from the free flowing alcohol, knowing that the following day was going to be daunting as it was. Michelle was happy enough to stay sober to talk to her parents and sit with Matty on her lap, listening to him going on about all the things he’d done in the months that she’d been away. 

Ashton barely left her side. 

The following morning felt like it was straight out of the movies. But she knew that this was the reality for the club members who did the various runs. 

Unsurprisingly, Ashton helped both Bert and Chibs. Michelle hadn’t expected anything less from her boyfriend, but even then, it still stunned her the trust that he had in her not to hit him with a bullet when it came to being aware of club members versus rivals. 

“Am I gonna really need to know this kinda stuff?” The complaint had been good natured, but the elder Irwin understood her hesitation. He hadn’t risen to her complaint, making her go through their course again. It was late afternoon before Chibs finally called to a halt, and they began to pack down, making sure nothing was left behind.

Once they were ready to go, Bert motioned for the other two to head off. Ashton scowled for a moment before his dad sighed.

“I just need to talk with your girl. I’ve got intel on her uni, and you need to go meet with Hood. the Harris’ have payments due.” With a quick kiss to his girlfriend, Ashton handed Michelle her helmet and then he was gone with Chibs.

“C’mon lil’ lady.” She didn’t hesitate to climb on the back of Bert’s bike. It was a level of freedom that she understood and part of her wanted her own to travel back to uni with, to show those men who thought she was easy that no one messed with her. 

The drive wasn’t too far out of Charming. It was mostly desert, but there was a little spot that gave a nice view of the town.

When the bike was parked up, Michelle was off first, heading to a small bench that had been left there by a previous resident.

“Ashton’s gonna be Club Prez one day. You and I both know this.” Michelle did know this. Both her and Ashton had known since they were kids. Ashton had always so desperately wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps.

“What time frame?” She finally asked, turning her head to the man who had turned into a second father for her.

“Maybe by the time he’s twenty five. I’ve been CP for nearly forty years, and it’s time to retire for me.” This shocked Michelle, her eyes going wide. 

“But, Ash thought he wouldn’t be Prez til he was in his late thirties at least?” The surprise that coloured Michelle’s tone made Bert laugh as he threw his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently as he kissed her temple. 

“I’m glad that you both have faith in this old man. But unlike the others, I wanna be able to spoil my grandchildren when they come. I’m surprised that my boy hasn’t made an honest woman outta you.” 

Michelle blushed, making him laugh. “Shove off old man.” She groaned, pushing away from him, making him laugh even more.

“I just wanna know, what’s gonna happen. That’s all.” He raised his hands in surrender, and she sighed.

“We talked about it before I left in September. I want to finish school. He knows I’m already planning to spend maybe a couple of years in the big city in a firm so I have a few cases under my belt. He also knows that I want him. I never really wanted anyone else.” 

“And I know that, lil’ lady. That’s why I want to help you protect yourself. When Ashton becomes Club Prez, you know we’ve got problems that he’ll inherit. The second they find out you’re a lawyer? That’s a pretty lookin’ red target painted on your forehead.” 

Michelle nodded. “That’s why you had me take out the opposition vs our own.” 

Bert nodded. “I don’t anticipate you being part of the club like that. But if you get into a situation, I’ll be relieved to know that one of my girls can get away safely. You know we’d be devastated if we lost you, Anne-Marie especially.” Michelle felt her heart swell for this man and his wife. 

Her parents were good to her, and she knew that. And so were the Irwin’s. But knowing that they valued her like a daughter already made her appreciate just what she had in her life.

“At least by the time I’m finished with school, I’ll be there to haul his ass out of the fire coals.” Her murmured words made Bert laugh before patting her knee.

“And he’d be lucky to have you hauling his ass from the fires. C’mon lil’ lady. Let's get back before he goes off at me. I know you’re only here for a few more weeks, and he wants to spend as much time with you as possible.” 

When the two of them returned, Ashton didn’t hesitate to almost drag Michelle out to the den that they’d built as teenagers, making Bert laugh at her exasperated eye roll. But once the two of them were secluded away from the world, she happily nestled against him, their clothes long gone as she traced his tattoos.

“What was dad after?” His fingers ran up and down her spine, her body melting against him as she fought to keep her eyes open.

“Told me why he was doing that today, why he wanted me to know how to at least fight back.” She murmured and his lips pressed against the top of her head.

“And why would that be, sweetheart?” Her head tilted up so that her chin could rest on his chest, her eyes catching his. 

“You’re gonna be Prez eventually, Ash. Everyone and their mother know about us. He’s worried that when you take over, you’ll be inheriting problems he’s been dealing with for years. Just being associated with you paints a target on my back. When they find out that we’re together? That target moves to my forehead.” There was no way to paint it nicely, but Ashton understood, even if there was crease between his brows at her words.

“Hopefully being in the big city takes it away, you’re out of town for too long.” She smiled sadly at him before letting the subject drop. 

“He also asked why you haven’t made an honest woman out of me. I think he forgets we’re only eighteen, and I’ve barely been away for six months.” Ashton laughed, and the mood changed drastically as she shifted, straddling his hips. 

“Trust me sweetheart, when I’ve saved up, I’ll be making an honest woman outta you. Those big shots can get fucked when they see a nice, shiny diamond on your finger.” 

“Oh there better be a shiny diamond eventually, Irwin.” He laughed as she leaned down to kiss him. 

Time passed by for them. Whilst he was saving up the money he earned from helping the club and working with Bobby in the garage, Michelle worked her ass off. 

Despite repeatedly telling men that she was taken, none really believed it. However, when she landed a few punches after one of them got too handsy with her, they quickly realised that it didn’t matter what they believed.

She could fight back, and she could put them down quicker than they’d ever be able to step away from. 

When Ashton had found out, he’d taken a month away, despite Bert half-heartedly arguing, he realised that if anything, it would keep her safer if they saw what kind of boyfriend she had.

She was surprised when he turned up after her lecture to pick her up. The roar of the bike engine was so familiar that it sounded out of place in the big city.

Michelle had been chatting with Jennifer, as they’d left, deliberately ignoring the few guys that seemed to invite themselves along. When Jen had spotted her ride, she hesitated, unwilling to leave Michelle with the guys from their course, circling around her like vultures.

“I can see if Jack could drop you off, save you from these creeps?” They shared a giggle.

 “Thanks but I need to head to the bar. Old Jerry wants me to stop by soon to try his new cocktails...” The roar of the engine made her pause, her eyes immediately searching out the sound.

“Chelle?” Jen had prodded her to get her attention, but once Michelle spotted the bike, her face lit up in undisguised glee.

“I don’t need to worry about getting a ride, mine just arrived.” The guys that had been lingering, scoffed. 

“Really Morgan? You’re going after a lowlife, probably with no stable job and an arrest record?” She wasn’t sure of his name, Mike or Marc, but his words triggered her anger. As the bike pulled up, she spun around, ready to punch him before remembering where she was.

“If I wasn’t so determined to become a lawyer, I’d have decked you with no hesitation. However, that apparent lowlife has been my best friend since we were kids. Add in the fact he’s literally the love of my life, and you get the picture. No arrest record, his dad runs and owns a garage that he’s set to inherit one day and not to mention, I like my men a little rough around the edges. How about you go fuck the blow up doll your buddies got you for Christmas and get off my fucking ass.” She snapped and she watched as he glanced behind her.

“He gonna come in and save you then?” This time, she smirked.

“When you run around with men that look like they could kill you, you get taught how to defend yourself from creepy assholes. Try it and see where this will get you. Not to mention that I’m a scholarship student. Why would I jeopardize this chance for a career?” Her voice had turned innocent, sweet. But the dare was laid for all to hear.

“You’re an ugly bitch anyway.” He finally muttered before turning on his heel and leaving. She shared a look with Jen before they both started laughing. Michelle hugged her friend goodbye before running to where Ashton was standing, leaning against his bike. 

The hindrance of her skirt meant that he could only pick her up and swing her around, but she was finally in the safest place.

“It’s been a minute.” She finally breathed when their lips pulled away, his smile only having grown wider.

“I know, but there are reasons. However, you’ve got me for a good chunk of time, doll.” This made her light up in excitement.

“How much time?” His smile was impossibly wide at this point as he dipped his head to kiss her once more.

“At least a month.” His voice was low, setting the fire off in her belly, but even that couldn’t squelch the joy that surged through her as she kissed him.

“Lets head back to mine then, handsome. I’ve got some new things for you to enjoy.” He had to swallow his reply as she got herself sat on the bike, a laugh escaping at the put-out look on her face.

“Sorry doll, but it looks so strange to see you dressed like that on my bike.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I haven’t got much of a choice. Dumb dress codes.” Ashton ignored her dar mutter as he placed her helmet on for her before climbing on and kicking the bike into life.

She’d missed the feeling of the bike underneath her. The way the engine rumbled was a reassurance, something that had come with years of riding around with Ashton and being taught to ride by Bert. It was a level of freedom that she never felt in the city, so enclosed and overrun with either pedestrians or cas. Bikes were around, but not ones like these, they were more what Bobby would call flashy toys, built for speed but would never survive one of the runs they did. 

When Ashton pulled up to Michelle’s place, there were nosey neighbours who peered from their windows to see what the noise was about. She outright ignored them as she took Ashton’s hand and led him up the stone steps to the house she was renting, the door barely closed before he had her pressed against the wall with his lips on hers.

 This was another thing she missed as she sighed into the kiss, the soft moan escaping as hands pushed up her skirt, and he began to tease.

“Do you think you’ll get complaints about any noise?” He murmured as his lips moved to her neck and she moaned at the sensations.

“Don’t care.” 

She didn’t hold back and neither did he.

When they were nestled up in her bed, having gotten their welcome home out of their systems, Michelle was dozing off against his chest when he leaned over to the floor, rummaging through his jacket pockets.

“What are you doing? I had a comfy pillow.” She muttered indignantly. He chuckled.

“I had a whole thing planned out, but being with you like this? Honestly it's the best moment I think.” 

This had her confused as he resumed his previous position but this time, she tilted her head so that it was resting on his chest, staring at him.

“And what moment would that be, Irwin?” He gave her the softest smile, one which she knew was reserved just for her.

“The moment to tell you that I’ve loved you for nearly my entire life, and I don’t want a life without you in it. Michelle Morgan, will you marry me?” he had the ring in his hands, and she couldn’t stop the gasp as she sat up, staring at him in shock.

“Ashton, this better not be a joke.” The tears threatened to fall and there was the soft smile again as he leaned forward to kiss her.

“I would never joke about this. You’re too important to me, Micha.” 

The first tear fell as she moved her trembling left hand, offering it to Ashton.

“Yes. Yes I will marry you.” The joy on his face in that moment sealed it for Michelle. As he slid the ring on her finger, he kissed it before his lips found hers once more.

“My sun, my moon, my stars.” He whispered.

When she went into her class on Monday, Jen was the first to notice the very shiny diamond ring on her finger.

“Oh my god, really?” Her friend gasped excitedly before pulling her into a hug. Michelle laughed.

“Really! He had this whole elaborate plan set out but ditched it because it didn’t feel like us. He wants to celebrate, but since he’s staying for the month, his brothers are going to travel up for celebrations next week. Ash wants to meet you and Jack and have a quiet double date before his brothers show up.” 

There were a few mutters from the men around them, but the two girls paid them no attention like they’d done from day one when the two realised they were the only females in the class.

“The only reason she’s getting married is because he probably knocked her up.” Mike-she was certain now after hearing his name called out on the register-muttered.

This time, she wasn’t going to let him slander her name like that. Those kinds of rumours not only fuelled fire but could potentially cost Michelle her career, and she wasn’t about to have any of it. 

Turning in her seat whilst they waited for the lecturer to start, she scowled at him. 

“Kindly refrain from making assumptions and starting rumours that you can’t back up with facts, O’Riley.” She kept her voice levelled, albeit slightly condescending. He scowled at her in return.

“What, scared that I’m right?” The taunt was a clear bait, determined to show she shouldn't be there. Both her and Jen had suffered from them.

The class had fallen silent at this, and Michelle smirked.

“How about I give you the facts first since you’ve spent the entirety of first year trying to make a point that neither Jennifer or I belong. I’ve known my fiance since we were children. Five years old to be precise. Whilst I’m at school, he works for the garage that his dad owns and will one day take over. He tries his hardest to visit once a month but sometimes he can’t because of obligations to the company means that sometimes the garage comes first.” She could see a few of the guys take on board her words.

Jen was smirking.

“If he were to have knocked me up, the last time I saw him was two and a half months ago. Notice how I haven’t swapped to any kinds of baggy clothing? Had I actually been pregnant, I’d have taken a leave of absence for a week so that I could go home and tell him as well as our families. Getting the picture yet?” His cheeks were burning as she so easily put him in his place.

“You have a go at the two of us, saying we don’t belong because we can’t be doing our studies right, we can’t be learning the same things as men. But if I look objectively at the situation, you’ve repeatedly tried to bait Chelle into an argument and lost every time. Most facts she’s been quite open about, and the others seemed to have put two and two together, but you can’t let go of the fact that she rejected you. So you hound her for anything. I hope that if you actually get into Law School after the undergrad program that you have to face her in the courts, because she’s clearly better than you.” Jennifer had spoken up in defence of her friend, and it had fallen silent before the lecturer began to clap.

Michelle hadn’t even realised that they’d eaten into the class time.

“Miss Morgan is correct, Mr O’Riley. Report to my office after class.” 

Unsurprisingly, O’Riley left her alone, and before Michelle knew it, the end of the year was upon them and she was back home with her family. 

She hadn’t had a chance to really pass the news and had forced Calum, Luke and Michael to stay quiet about it. Ashton knew better than to ruin this surprise for her, even though her family had been waiting for the day to happen ever since he’d asked her father’s permission the day after she’d left.

To say they were excited was understatement of the century. Both of them had winced at the high pitched squeal from her mother and her father was laughing at the scene before him.

They welcomed Ashton into their family when he was a child, but this was a different kind of welcome, one that really made him feel lucky to have the parents he had.

Unlike some of the weddings they’d seen from the club members, Ashton had been adamant. The wedding would be how Michelle wanted it, and if anyone had a problem then they could work at the garage instead. 

Bert had surprisingly backed his son up.

“She’s practically been my daughter since he brought her home with a skinned knee and tear tracks down her face. This is her day just as much as his, and if Ash wants it to be how she wants it, then no one will say a fucking word.” 

The prospects had eyed the father/son duo warily before nodding in acceptance. Ashton had already made it clear to them that they’d be around for security rather than the ceremony. 

They’d watched one of their previous comrades learn the hard way not to insult Michelle Morgan around any of them. The last prospect who did that not only lost his chance to be in the club but also ended up in the hospital with broken arms and a bullet to the knee. 

The warning rang loud and clear for them so they weren’t bothered by the fact they’d been relegated to security.

Despite the endless ribbing that Ashton had received from his best friends, he helped Michelle with ideas for what she wanted. They’d decided to plan and book it for the following summer, to let her get through her second year of university without worrying. 

“I’m going to defer a year after we get married.” Ashton stared at her in shock. She’d told him that the career was important to her, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why she would do that. 

He’d pulled her so that she was straddling his lap, the two of them sat on the sofa at his parents’. They were out for the weekend. He knew his dad was preparing for a patchover and his mom wanted as much time as possible with him without the two of them underfoot.

“And why are you deferring a year, doll?” 

“So that I can steal you away for a year. Our honeymoon is going to be much longer than two weeks.” The grin on her lips was almost predatory, and he felt the corner of his own twitch up in response. 

“Oh is it, Miss Morgan?” Her arms were resting on his shoulders as she leaned forwards, nibbling at the skin of his neck, her hips slowly rocking into his. 

He was struggling to stay focused. 

“A full year of us travelling. Motels, fancy hotels or hostels. Travel America and then maybe fly out and travel Europe. A whole year. I’m sure you wouldn’t be adverse to having sex in every state and then as much of Europe as possible.” Her teeth tugged at his earlobe, and he had her pinned on the couch, the look of shock amusing as his lips met hers.

“What my lady wants, my lady gets.” 

Later when they’d redressed themselves and were looking at various places, Ashton let out a sigh. “You realise that it means I’ll definitely be doing more runs. And maybe a few hits?” 

She squeezed his hand gently. “That’s why pops is planning on offering to pay for half of the trip. He knows what your dad does, they’re best friends. He knows what you do. He also knows that you’d protect me and move heaven and earth if you could. I wasn’t supposed to tell you this, so act surprised when he offers it.” This made him laugh as he kissed her temple.

“Secret is safe with me, doll. So July or August for the wedding date?” 

True to his word, Ashton did act surprised when her dad made the offer, however, he didn’t have to fake his shock at the amount that he was offering.

“That’s, surely that would cover the entire trip?” Ashton barely breathed. Marcus Morgan laughed as he slapped Ashton on the shoulder. 

“Son, I’ve been saving for this ever since she brought you home to us to introduce us to her newest best friend. At first it was small amounts which I was prepared to make her college fund, and then you two got together and her mother told me to start saving properly.” Ashton stared at his soon to be father-in-law, stunned.

He could do nothing but hug Marcus tightly in gratitude, in amazement, in awe. He wasn’t entirely sure. But he loved this man just as much as he loved his own dad.

Marcus understood the unspoken words and held onto Ashton just as tightly, giving him a moment to take in the significance of the offer. 

“You realise that the second Michelle finds out, she’ll flip?” Ashton finally asked as he pulled back, and Marcus laughed loudly.

“Like I’d expect anything else from that girl. She’s her mother’s daughter through and through. I can only count my blessings that she found you early on to temper her impulses.” Ashton tried and failed to hide his smirk as his soon-to-be in-law rolled his eyes before they were drawn into a discussion about the newest modifications he’d made to his bike. 

They still continued to plan, even when Michelle was back at University. Mercifully, after her verbal slapdown of O’Riley, both her and Jen had earned the grudging respect from their classmates. 

That respect was a big help when it came to the appointments for her dress fittings and bridesmaid dresses. If Jen hadn’t been one of her bridesmaids, she knew her friend would’ve handed her any and all the notes she needed for missed classes however, both of them relied on the notes from their classmates and the occasional meeting with their tutors.

It was a much quieter year for both her and Ashton, despite all the appointments and meetings for the venues and vendors. It dawned on them how much work it took to pull off the wedding that they were planning, on top of their respective school work and jobs. 

It was exhausting, but they pulled it off, she’d finished top of the class, with Jen close behind her and the business side for the Irwin’s had been thriving. 

Before she really knew it, she was standing in the foyer of the church, gripping her dad’s arm to stop the butterflies causing havoc through her entire body, let alone her stomach.

“You nervous sweet girl?” Her dad's tone was reassurance of all these new exciting feelings. She let out a small breath of air as she finally let it sink in that it was just Ashton waiting for her.

She was marrying her best friend.

“Excited. I still can’t believe he agreed to let you practically pay for our entire trip.” It had been a constant disagreement until her mother had sat her down and told her why her dad was doing this.

“Call it payback for you actually telling him before I could.” And she felt her jaw drop. She knew that Ashton hadn’t told him, or at least they’d suspected she’d gotten away with her slip up. 

Marcus chuckled as he gently tapped under her chin, her jaw shutting with an audible snap. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She hissed dangerously, and he grinned in return, his eyes suspiciously bright as his hand lifted, the backs of his fingers tracing down her face. She relaxed into the comforting touch almost immediately.

“You’re my child. I’ve raised you and I know you. Ashton is also mine, even though your mother didn’t bring him into the world. The two of you grew up with your mom and I as well as his parents. You might be able to fool the world sweetheart, but you can never fool your parents.”

It was another sigh before she let out a snort of laughter.

“Figures.” The key changed in the music, and the butterflies were back with reckless abandon. 

“Time to get the show on the road, sweet girl. I love you and I’m proud of you.” His lips touched her forehead, and it was almost like magic that her entire body relaxed. The butterflies finally settled as they began the walk down to her future husband.

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[joliepixie]

I’ve been reading almost everyday since April 16th thanks to the stay at home order. Not that I’m complaining but I feeling like it’s time to return to work if only for my activity level! its become a struggle to remove myself enough to go for a walk or run. Anyways onto the books.

Left to right:

1) I ordered this book when I was in the middle of the Throne of Glass series as a nice book to break up the series (can’t read series books back to back I get bored that way) but also to fulfill the Sarah J. Maas craving I was having without having to invest in a series. I don’t know was expecting with this book but for me it made me realize I’m not that into superhero books... don’t get me wrong it was a good book and I think I gave it 3 stars?? It just didn’t resonate with me. I didn’t much enjoy the characters and I had a hard time believing catwoman was this super badass didn’t lose one fight to anyone type of character that had assassin training. I preferred the early chapters when she was just a kid trying to make a living by fighting I think following that would have been a bit more interesting. Ok Just checked rated it 4 stars... This is why I do these “reviews” cause sometimes I don’t know how I feel about a book till I sit down and start blabbing about it. So yes a 3 star book for me.

2) Ok I have a serious addiction apparently. After reading the Throne of Glass books I wasn’t done with Sarah J. Maas’ writing style yet so with me having a week of uninterrupted home time left and having a serious book hangover I decided to re-read the ACOTAR series again.. probably just the first two because I like the build up to Rhys and Feyra’s relationship. Needless to say other then having to spend the majority of this book with Tamlin I love this book or more specifically the under the mountain trails. Going into the book for the first time last year I wasn’t expecting the trails and being a huge fan of competitions, trails, etc. I was enthralled. Love this book and love the second book even more. Oh and I promise I will be branching out from Sarah J. Maas soon considering I’ve had all her books read and just waiting for breath and sky now.

3) Another re-read/slowly trying to read every book on my bookshelf after a reading slump of 3 years. As I’ve been saying to my friends. I’m weeding out the weak deciding what to keep and what to give away. Anyways, absolutely love this book. Say what you will about Nicholas Sparks but he knows how to tug at the heart strings. When I first read this book I was in highschool and getting through those last 100 pages is tough is a terribly sad type of way. I remember I had to give my dad a hug when he got home after sobbing on the couch for hours. This book broke and I went in knowing this and I spent my entire night crying, let my dad know I loved him, and woke up with sore and puffy eyes so bad that I couldn’t read at all the next day. Regardless of how much I love this book I’m keeping it for the sake of the memories I have with it and as a reminder to let my parents know I love them unconditionally and never stay mad.

4) If you remember I picked this book up on one of my thrifting trips with my friend. Funny story I accidentally bought two copies thinking they were different stories. I have a obsession with Paris (even though I haven’t gone.. just waiting for covid to end so I can get out there) which was the main reason for this purchase and I’m glad I got it. I read this immediately after Kingdom of Ash because I needed something quick and what better then a book of short stories some involving Paris? I loved the majority of the stories in this book and will definitely be re reading a few someday. I tried reading this author other book me Before You when I was really young but being so young I don’t think I appreciated it as much as I should have. After picking up this book and being reacquainted with this authors writing style I think I’ll be trying some of her other books and probably dusting off my old copy of Me Before You.

5) I’ve been having an tough time with thrillers recently where I’ve read a lot that just didn’t sit well with me. This one reminded me why I like thrillers so much. I found this one fast paced and didn’t have to sit through chapter after chapter of the characters drinking while she took her medication. Sometimes I find with thrillers we are always given these characters that are so dependent on there vices which are used against them to make them seem crazy rather then something actually happening which drags on and sometimes used as a crutch in writing do you get what I’m saying? Even though this book did have a bit of this happening it wasn’t used nearly as much as other books and like I said very fast pace. It was neat how there wasn’t a grand reveal but the main character just worked it out on her own. I was happy with the ending as well and thought it ended the book well. All and all I liked this book a lot.

6) Was hoping I could write about book 6, 7, and 8 altogether like last time but I have very different feelings about each book so here we go. I love this book probably just as much as Heir of Fire and Queen of Shadows. I really loved getting to see all the characters interact like Manon joining up with the crew. The skull bay fight with Lysandra was definitely one of my all time favourite scenes and having Dorian slowly master his powers was fun to read as well. My favourite part of this book was definitely Lorcan and Elide parts. Elide was a character that I could give or take when I first met her but she’s slowly become my favourite character and I loved everyone of her chapters as well as the slow building romance with Lorcan. And if you know me you know I have a great hatred for Chaol so this book got a added bonus for not having a single chapter from his perspective!

7) This was a struggle. I looked up if I could just skip this book but unfortunately it had major plot points you couldn’t miss. I was dreading this book. I read a lot of reviews about how people hated Chaol but still really found this book likeable so I went in hoping that would be my experience too. It wasn’t. I actually ended up buying the audiobook because I really couldn’t picture myself sitting and reading this book... it’s not that I hated it I just don’t like chaol and besides Yrene and Borte didn’t really care for any of the characters in this book. I’m glad I listened to it because I definitely needed this story to continue and I really did try not to hate Chaol so much but I just can’t stand him.

8) Ok. The final Throne of Glass book. I gave it 4 stars. The middle three books are my favourite and I will re read over and over this one I don’t see myself going back to it. I have it four starts because I’ve followed these characters through a eight book series and a month of my time. I’ve fallen in love with these characters and there stories, I will always love these character, and of course Elide and Lorcan! Now here’s why I didn’t like this book as much nor think I’ll read it again (other then Lorcan and Elide story.) throughout this book I felt like Rowan became a background character like I’m all for a strong female lead and her doing shit her own way but Rowan was suppose to be her equal and I just felt like he did nothing. Like the final fight he spent the majority of it chasing Aelin? I get it she didn’t have her full powers but she was handling her own couldn’t you do the same? It just didn’t sit right with me that this character that was introduced to us in Heir of Fire that trained Aelin and is her equal was just kind of brushed aside and became this clingy male that spent the majority of the book following Aelin around not doing anything other the pleading her not to leave him. Like what happened to the badass Rowan that I grew to love...? Also was really angered me Aelin losing her powers? What’s up with that?! It just felt so cheap to me.. after again reading about how strong she is and then forging the lock which did nothing by the way what was the point of that anyways, and then she just loses all her power only having a ember left??? I hate when authors do this.. I also felt the scene with Erawan, Maeve, and Aelin was just dull. I was still upset that Aelin wouldn’t get to use her powers against them and in the end it was more of a match of words then a battle just felt a little cheap to me. I was just disappointing , Aelin a character we have come to love and watch grow and get stronger hardly hold her own against Maeve... This book has a all around different feel to it compared to the other books and maybe it’s because it was the final battle and and the final book to the series I was a bit disappointed with it but I did enjoy it and felt a huge accomplishment when I finished the series. Reading that finally few chapters really put me into a hangover knowing it was over and like Aelin felt when everyone was heading home I felt that too. It’s goodbye for now.

[kenzieam]

The Blue Plate Diner - Chapter One

@jewels2876​​  @moonbeambucky​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​  @iammarylastar​​@captstefanbrandt​​  @badassbaker​​  @pinknerdpanda​​  @oliviastan17​​ @mizzzpink​​​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL!

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Years after leaving, Bucky returns to his hometown a successful lawyer, there only to clean up his recently deceased mother’s affairs, but hoping despite himself to see her again; Levka Riel, the girl he wanted all through high school and could never have. But their parting was anything but sweet and old wounds have festered for years in the shadows. Even if the truths in their past are revealed, has it been too long to repair the damage?

************************************************************************

Bucky sighed, stifling a yawn. He should have flown out, rather than renting a car and driving but he’d wanted the time to think that days of road travel allowed; flying wouldn’t have given him time to prepare.

He wasn’t ready for this. Any of it.

Not just the fact that his mother, a strong-willed old woman who’d raised him alone through grit and sacrifice, had passed away but returning to his hometown in general, with all the memories, good and bad, that haunted here.

It had all been a surprise, his weekly phone call to his mother had gone unanswered, the chief of police himself calling him the next morning with the news he’d begun to dread. At least the old girl had gone in her sleep, napping in her armchair, maybe even while waiting for her only child’s weekly phone call as she drifted off this mortal coil and, to be honest, he’d not really woken up from the dream since.

You’d think being a big-city lawyer would have helped grease the wheels a bit, but time had moved a hell of lot slower back home and, instead of handing everything over the phone like he’d wanted to, Bucky had finally be forced to concede and come back to handle his mother’s affairs personally.

He wasn’t ready for all of this, wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the woman who’d raised him, who’d gone without to provide for him but there was even more; he wasn’t ready to see her.

Levka Riel.

The only woman that had ever captured his heart, as cliche as that sounded.

The past should stay buried.

Yet here he was, driving directly back into the lion’s den.

He wasn’t ready for this.

The town looked pedestrian, tired and ordinary. It hadn’t seemed so when he’d lived there, but years away first at college, then law school followed by the big city showed him the truth now.

Small towns, small minds and he couldn’t wait to get back out of here.

A few days, a week tops. Sign all the paperwork, find a team to clean out the house and hire an agent to sell it in his absence, take his mother’s ashes back with him.

Get the hell out before he saw her.

Lev was still in town, as far as he knew, not that he asked his mom about her anymore; it was too painful, easier to focus on other things and besides, she’d given him her answer years ago, hadn’t she?

Hunger pangs kicked in as he ventured further into the town centre and the thought of trying to cobble something together in his mom’s empty house only made him more tired, so he was relieved to see that The Blue Plate was still open, a deliciously retro diner to the outsider that was just plain old to the locals. Pulling into the cracked parking lot, he parked the rental car and sat back, staring into the diner for a beat.

How many times had he come here in high school, either with his best friend Steve or alone, to sit in a corner booth and steal glances at Lev as she waitressed there? To wince and look away when she’d approach their table with a smile, lean down to give Steve, her lucky-as-fuck boyfriend, a kiss; maybe sit down in his lap for a minute or two, something which always caused a stir in Bucky’s pants, one he was grateful the table’s edge hid?

Too many fucking times.

There was only one waitress visible, as original as the tiles on the floor, old Hattie had been waitressing here at the Blue Plate from the day it opened, and they’d probably have to drag her out the back one day when she finally keeled over into their famous bread pudding, because it looked like the old bird would never willingly leave.

His stomach grumbled again, unimpressed with his brooding and he stepped out, glancing across the parking lot one more time. The newest vehicle in the lot, besides his own brand-new ride, was a battered old truck manufactured sometime during Reagan’s tenure, the original colour of paint a memory on it’s faded and dented flanks.

The bell binged, announcing his entry and a few tired heads raised to stare at him, some with mild curiosity, some a bit more rabid but, if anyone recognized him as Doris Barnes’ boy, who’d left almost a decade ago for the big city, nobody let on.

“Sit wherever you want.” Hattie called from behind the counter and Bucky chose a booth on the empty side of the diner, facing away from everyone else, where he could sit without overhearing any conversations or be forced to oblige in awkward small talk if his wandering gaze happened to cross anyone else’s.

Hearing footsteps approach, Bucky reached for a menu stood up in the condiments’ rack and flipped it open, turning over one of the coffee mugs left at each table for Hattie to fill.

“What can I get you?” It was not Hattie who asked, even as they filled his coffee cup and set a sweating glass of water beside it and Bucky glanced up, his heart beginning to pound. Something about this woman’s voice stirred old memories deep in his mind. When his eyes met hers, his heart jolted, adrenaline starting to course through his veins.

“Lev?”

She startled slightly, having obviously not recognized him from behind. “James?” She breathed, sounding suddenly alarmed. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes were wide, darting around his face and she looked anything but happy to see an old acquaintance, and why should she, with the ugly way they parted so many years ago?

“I didn’t know you still worked here.” Bucky mumbled, cheeks heating. A thousand different emotions coursed through him, everything from pleasant surprise to low fury, embarrassment and excitement.

“I didn’t know you were back in town.” She replied curtly.

“I’m here for Mom.” He answered, confused to see something bordering on disgust cross Lev’s face.

“Oh yes. I’m sorry to hear about your mother.” Lev sounded anything but sorry and, while Bucky struggled for something more to say, to make sense of the riot of feelings in his head, he wanted to do everything from flip the table over while he screamed at her to leaping to his feet and crushing Lev to his chest while he kissed her, she continued. “What can I get you?”

His answer was automatic, something he’d ordered here time and again. “Blue-cheese burger, medium rare and fries.” His carefully crafted diet, mostly greens and lean meats, was apparently out the window at the moment.

“Sure,” she turned to leave.

“Wait-” Bucky yelped, nowhere near ready to let her walk away yet, even as his skin burned with embarrassment. She hadn’t wanted him then, why the fuck would she want him now?

She hesitated, glancing back at him and he was stunned to see fear in her eyes. Why would she be afraid of him? He’d never done anything to hurt her… physically at least. “I need to get your order in.”

Bucky nodded weakly, subsiding into the booth as she hurried away. Picking almost obsessively at a cuticle, he glanced over his shoulder time and again, looking for Lev to come back but she flitted between customers at the other end, stealing worried glances his way every now and again and Bucky cursed himself for chickening out every time he decided to simply stand up and approach her.

“Here you go.”

“Lev, wait. I need to talk to-” he broke off with a frown as Hattie set the plate in front of him, regarding him with a raised brow. “Where’s Lev?”

“On her break.”

“But I need to-”

“I wouldn’t bother waiting around, son. She’s not here and the way she lit out, she don’t want to talk to you right now anyhow.” Mixed sympathy and suspicion coloured her gaze before she added. “Sorry to hear about your mama.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Mind what I said, eat your burger then go. Levi don’t want to see you.”

The woman had never had kids, but few could equal her ‘Mom has spoken’ tone and Bucky, picking at half his food and taking the rest with him, left not long after.

It was surreal, entering his childhood home; with the exception of a few minor upgrades, the house was just as he remembered, ruthlessly clean and organized, not even the few dust-bunnies daring to be out of place. His room was even worse, left just as he’d had it, bare and spartan by necessity, for if he’d cluttered it with too much his mother would have gone through and purged it all while he was at school. She’d tidied the space as necessary, changing the sheets regularly based on the whiff of pleasant detergent smell that hit him as he pulled them back, but there was no personality in the room anymore.

Had there ever been?

He couldn’t remember a time here where his mother wasn’t the biggest energy, the largest influence and policing force in his life. It hadn’t occurred to him to mind all those years ago, but time spent on his own, making his own way and living his own life coloured his memories now, or maybe just scraped away the rose-tint.

Is that why he hadn’t been home in almost eight years? Because of his mother, or because of her?          

A sudden wave of weariness hit him, a culmination of the last few days of numb shock coupled with the strange, almost furtive shame he now felt crawling his spine.

Lev had never left this place, never even left her old job by the looks of it and for someone who’d once followed her every move in high school, just dying for a bit of her light to shine on him, he’d done a good job of staying distant.

And why not? The way Lev had stared at him, from the corner of her eyes like she feared him suddenly launching himself at her and swinging his fists, wasn’t wholly unexpected.

Jesus, did he wish he had done things differently.

Stripping down to boxers, he awkwardly slid into the striped sheets, feeling the end of the mattress with a familiar comfort, a sense that, even though so many other things had changed, he still was too tall for his old bed.

Where was Lev right now? Still working, having returned to waitressing after Hattie had chased him off? Gone home? To a family, a husband? He’d never asked his mother, it would have been far too painful to know the truth, but Lev had probably married Steve, given him two or three little tow-headed angels and was at this moment regaling him with the story of ‘you’ll never guess who I saw at The Blue Plate tonight!’.

God, his body tightened at the thought of her, as it had so many nights before. She still looked amazing, her hair still that unique auburn, her eyes rarer and more vibrant than anyone else’s he’d seen. Her body was lush and curved, just as she’d been blessed in high school with, a frame that probably would have earned raised brows and silent scorn around the stick-figures who floated and clacked through the law firm, worried about the calories of the cheesecake they’d just binged and purged in the ladies room, but perfectly ideal in Bucky’s eyes.

He felt his cock respond, grow and lengthen in his boxers and, as he’d done time untold in high school, he reached down into his shorts and wrapped his hand around his girth; biting back a moan as he imagined Lev’s hand in its place. Slowly, he dragged his fist up and down, feeling the flesh swell and stiffen even further, straining in his grip.

He let go, lifted his hand to his mouth and spat on it for lubrication, then gripped himself again, imaging the warm drag and slick friction to be Lev’s body sheathed around him, cradling and embracing him. He couldn’t hold back a groan, a faint part of his mind reminding him that he didn’t need to be quiet, his mother wasn’t down the hall anymore and let it out; a low, harsh sound of pure want and need. Pre-cum added to the slickness and he increased his speed, eyelids fluttering as he fantasized Lev, straddling his bare hips, fingers scratching at his chest, throwing her head back in the ecstasy his cock was bringing her.

“Jesus, god. Lev-” he panted, holding down her hips as he snapped his upwards, burying himself as deeply as he could. “Fuck baby, you feel so goddamn good-”

“Oh god, Bucky.” She whimpered. “Give it to me-” her plea devolved into a moan of pure pleasure, her walls starting to flutter and squeeze around him.

“Take it,” he grunted heavily, teeth gritted, throwing his fuck up into her with everything he had, desperate to brand her his forever. “Take it, god baby-”

He came with a groan, back arching and head pushed back into his pillow, cock pulsing thickly in his hand, his seed jets of melted silk, splashing back onto his belly and chest, trickling over his hand. For a long moment he could only lay there, trapped in that half-awake, half-dream state, still feeling Lev, the heavenly way she gripped him with her walls, her cries of ecstasy as she climaxed, milking him for his cum, body trembling and then he opened his eyes and saw where he was; alone in a dark room and the fantasy was over.

******************************************************************************              The next days were quiet but strained; Bucky did not achieve half of what he wanted to do around the house because his mind refused to stop wandering. One minute he might be stacking dishes in paper, readying them to donate to the local second-hand shop and then he would find himself simply staring out the window, lost in one or more daydreams that seemed to grow sharper and more poignant with each passing day and, not surprisingly, featuring her.

He didn’t see Lev again, despite frequent trips out of the house in hopes of running into her and their parting played over and over again in his head, nearly driving him mad.

For years he’d desired her, longed for her, only to watch her date a string of assholes, his best friend Steve included while he ached for her in the darkness of his own room at night. Bitterly disappointed with himself for never screwing up the nerve to tell Lev what he felt, for staying in the shadows as her boyfriend’s tag-a-long third wheel, he’d left for college; not having the desire to return home until the summer between his second and third year.

A party, attended on a reckless whim, Lev and Steve broken up for the sixth or seventh time and both on the prowl, intent on driving the other mad with jealousy as they flirted and stole kisses in the corner.

Bucky had been only too willing to give in when Lev turned her violet eyes his way, just enough alcohol in his system to dull his senses, to convince him that she truly wanted him and not revenge.

Bliss upon bliss, sweet strains and he’d whispered all manner of love and devotion into her ear as he’d thrust into her body, confessing his feelings, his adoration from afar and only a distant, nearly silent part of his mind had remembered, as he spilled inside her, cock pulsing thick bursts of his seed, that they’d forgotten a condom. But that hardly matters, he remembered musing, as his body shuddered in release, as Lev’s walls milked him with her own climax, because this is it, we’ve broken through the wall, she will see now, that we belong together.

Seven years later, and she was staring at him in her diner like he was a ghost and going out of her way to avoid him in their small, small town.

And not once had she answered the letters he’d sent her, the ones begging for her forgiveness, begging for another chance.

[kashimos-hajime]

soldier | amaranthine (1/6) | b.b.

summary: a boy and a girl went off to war. they fell in love and the devil laughed.

WARNINGS: swearing, MAJOR angst, more fluff than usual wow, heckie doo dah they kiss, blood and vomit mentions, a lot of pain, guns, needles, trains pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 7.5k

a/n: written for @the-omni-princess​ and their writing challenge! i really couldn’t help it, i loved bucky and this reader so much i turned it into a series. my prompt was soldier by fleurie. gif not mine. this series will have a happy ending ON GOD

amaranthine masterlist

Head in the dust, feet in the fire Labour on that midnight wire Listening for that angel choir You got nowhere to run

Sunlight filters through dust and Bucky Barnes thinks it’s too fucking sunny for a day in the trenches. His feet blister as he shifts against the wet mud wall. His stomach is hollow and he closes his eyes. Chains wrap around his bones, tying him to his mud post. Mud caked beneath his nails and a strange crackling feeling festering between his legs and his gut, Bucky Barnes tries to sleep for the first time in three days. All he can feel is the mud through his soaked uniform. Yesterday, it rained like Hell’s flames had reached earth, and beneath molding wood, Bucky had tried to keep his soldiers as warm as he could.

He can’t remember the last time he was dry.

“Sarge, it’s your turn,” a soldier calls and his eyes open as he raises his head from the mud wall. Dried mud crumbles from his head and he grabs his helmet, wedges it beneath his arm and lets his muscles scream. His stomach wails and his head spins when he stands but he blinks the dust away and instead sends a nod to the soldier who begins to lead him through the maze. Hand dragging along the crumbling trench wall, he heads through the pits he knows too well to where the rest of the 107th are waiting. They mumble him greetings as he walks between their legs and bodies, some of them groaning when he steps on mud that leaks out dirt water. They’ve yet to see them yet, then. 

Every soldier that’s gone in has come out remarkably brighter, and these men look more ashen than death.

He doesn’t know what to expect. Suddenly this medical corp was doing a standard health check while not in combat, and safe to say, it raised Bucky’s suspicions. He continues walking and walking, his blisters bleeding and he’s sure he has some trench foot or some other shit. His feet have been swimming in water and mud for days.

His eyes scan the back of the soldier’s head. Clean helmet, new uniform and boots. Lucky him.

“They’ll take good care of you, Sarge,” the soldier announces all sudden-like and Bucky’s head rings. “Get you into right fighting shape.” 

From then, it’s a blur. Hands take him and pass him on to other hands. They take off his clothes, pour warm water over his head and clean him inch by inch. The water turns dark with red and brown when they’re done and he’s sure he can feel the lice in his hair jumping ship before they show him to another tent and then another, each one doing something different. 

The last tent is when his mind finally plays catch up. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” a voice calls as his blue eyes drift warily around him. Beside him are other soldiers, countless rows of them. Some of them are bleeding through their bandages, there are three crowded around one bed playing cards, and he’s alone in his bed. He glances down at his hands, tough with calluses and scrubbed clean of dirt before raising his head. 

“That’s me.”

“Perfect.” 

The voice. His eyes find the voice and then he sees her. Her mouth moves and he hears her say her name, but all he can think of is one thing: angel. She isn’t wearing white, and she doesn’t have wings or a halo. Instead, she has dark half-moons imprinted on her face and messy hair and a fixed smile, and she’s anything but an angel, but it’s the only word Bucky can use to describe her. 

She has the inexplicable draw, and when he blinks, a little too stunned for words, her fixed smile softens.

He sits up a little straighter, and his heart beats a little louder, and for the first time in days, weeks, months, Bucky Barnes doesn’t feel the cold or the wet or the pain.

“Ma’am.” He clears his throat and she laughs as she sets down a tray of food in his lap. His hands instinctively reach to grab and when her fingers brush his, a jolt sends shivers up his spine. She’s the warmest thing he’s touched in days. The woman wears a uniform similar to his with tough stains along her front and in the creases of her jacket and when she bends over to pull the blanket away from his feet, he can spot the dirty rags stuffed into her pockets. A trained nurse, doctor maybe. “Ma’am, you don’t need to worry—”

“You were written down as potentially suffering from trench foot, Sergeant. I’m just going to take a look, treat it, and then I’ll be on my way,” she says, her voice lilting and soft, different than the sound of screams that seem to echo from tents away, the sound of soldiers cheering whenever they win a game of cards.

Bucky looks down at the tray of food. A bowl of hot soup, dry bread with cheese and a steaming cup of coffee has never looked so delicious. As he picks up the spoon to dip into the soup, he glances at the nurse who takes hold of his ankle. Quickly grabbing a hold of his tray, he steadies it and she sends him an apologetic look down the way. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” He smiles and his face stretches strangely. 

It occurs to Bucky he hasn’t smiled in ages, and the woman’s tiny smile in return is enough for him to keep his own grin going.

“Where are you from?” he asks even though it’s painfully obvious. He only speaks because it’s almost humiliating to eat and watch her inspect his feet, especially when he can occasionally catch the glances she sends his way; it’s almost as if she hates the silence as much as he does.

“South London,” she says, slowly setting one foot down. “They soaked your feet, correct?”

“They did. Never been so dry.” She chuckles and the sound is music to Bucky’s ears as she sets down the other foot. “I’m alright to leave, ma’am?”

“You need to be treated first,” she cuts him off, shooting him a narrowed glare. “Talcum powder is extremely helpful. It’ll keep your feet dry for longer and reduce the chafing between your socks and your feet.”

“A miracle.”

“Hardly.” She sends him a quick glance to see if he’s eating before beginning to pat the powder down over his skin. “You need to keep your feet as dry as possible, and expose them to the air, or you’ll be losing more than skin.”

“Hard to do in the mud, ma’am,” he says with a shrug, chugging down his coffee and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she pats white dust over his other foot. He wiggles his toe against her palm and she shakes her head with half a smile, gently nudging his foot with a stern rub. “The rain gets everywhere.” 

“I know. It’s advice I still have to give, though.” She claps her hands, white dust springing into the air in a cloud. Waving it away, she bends over to grab pillows and shoves them beneath his legs, exposing his blistering feet to the other soldiers who care to look his way. Wiping her palms along her pants, white streaks down the dark green before she pulls out clean socks and sets them by his bedside. “Put these on when you’re discharged. I hope I don’t have to see you again, Sergeant Barnes.” A sort of yawning ache splits Bucky down the middle as she brushes hair out of her face and turns to pick up a second tray of medical supplies.

“Any siblings?” he asks suddenly just to keep her around. She blinks, turns to check if anyone needs her, and then perches on the edge of his cot like a pretty little bird. Her tray balances in her lap, tools glimmering against the stark-white of a roll of bandages. He brings a spoonful of soup to his lips and it warms him all the way down to the belly. A bit of it dribbles down his chin and she reaches over with a thumb to wipe it off. 

“Three brothers,” she says, withdrawing her hand. Bucky’s lips part and he sucks in a soft breath as she smiles again, this time wide enough to dig into her cheeks. It changes her—makes her younger and softer. Against the grey of everything, she is enchanting. “Twin older brothers and one baby brother.”

“That must’ve been the worst.” He smirks, eyebrows raising and she hides a laugh unsuccessfully. Bucky’s been told he has an infectious smile and he’s glad war hasn’t taken that away from him. She scoots closer to the head of the bed as he eats and as she nears, he can almost count the stars in her eyes.

“My brothers never stopped getting into trouble and I always got caught in the middle of it. They taught me how to fight and we fought all the time…” Her voice fades away and Bucky frowns, eyebrows furrowing together. “Until the war happened.” Her smile slips away and her eyes no longer bare the bravery to meet his. A muscle in her jaw ticks and Bucky almost reaches for her hand. Almost. He cocks his head, letting his drying hair fall into his eyes and she looks at him again, this time not as warmly, this time with emptiness.

“My brothers fled to America a few months after they declared war,” she says. Some nameless, faceless men in Bucky’s head appear and he tilts his head, lips pressing together in a firm line. He could try to imagine a selfish man with her features, or maybe a man hiding under a hood as he boarded a ship with the same eyes, but he can’t. Not when his sister sits right before him. “Because in England, they can’t conscript the last son of a family.”

His thoughts crumble to ash.

“But you’re here,” he whispers and she looks down at his tray, unseeing. 

“I am,” she agrees, wistful, regretful. When their eyes meet again, Bucky wonders if she feels the heat, too. “And you? Any siblings?”

“Three.”

“And you’ve left them behind, too.”

“You’ve been at war much longer than I have,” Bucky points out and she tilts her chin up. The grey sun that streams through the tent flaps hits her face and she’s almost blindingly radiant in a way that breaks a man’s heart. Shifting in his seat, he blinks and tries to keep that image of her, an angel in grey light before it’s gone. She ducks her head to tuck away hair from her face and he twists to set down his tray of food beside him. “You know, I used to braid my sister’s hair before school,” he says and she looks at him, eyebrows shadowing her eyes. “Can’t be rusty when I get back.”

She laughs, almost incredulous, and very, very tired, and Bucky can see the minute the weight seems to lift off her shoulders. She sets down her tray and leans back on her hands, lip caught between teeth as she tries to bite her smile down. It only makes Bucky smile wider.

“Sergeant Barnes, would you please braid a girl’s hair?” she asks, dewy sweet, and Bucky nearly melts in his bed. Mouth dry, he clears his throat and pulls at his blanket. 

“What would I get in return?” He plays for keeps, and the angel grins, leaning towards him. His eyes fall to her lips as she brushes hair out of his face. Bucky can barely breath at the featherlight sweep of her fingers.

“Would my everlasting affection suffice?” She cocks her head and waits for his answer, fingers stilling on his cheek as his eyes flicker from her lips to her eyes. He wonders what it would taste like, to kiss her. Maybe it’d taste like coffee and cough syrup, or gunpowder and ash. Whatever it is, Bucky wants to know. So he nods 

“I s’pose it would.”

.

The cell reeks of dead rat and rank shit. With the wet drip-drip-drip of water leaking from a crack in the ceiling, Bucky digs his shiv into the cement. Scratching the tally mark, he lets the ugly grating of metal against the wall ring in his ears. A mind-numbing pain rests in his veins and just the mere effort of dragging his arm up the wall to run the point through the mark again is nearly too much. His mind swirls in a twisted knot, one that only tightens with every waking moment.

Whatever they did to him—lacing fire and ice into his blood, carving him from the inside out and sharpening his every sense until he can hear the roaches crawling on the walls—has changed him. Somewhere inside him knows he’s different, disfigured on a level he cannot understand. 

He lets his hand fall to the cot as the sound of rusted metal echoes down the hall.

“Let go of me! Bastards!”

Blinding candlelight streams into his cage and Bucky raises his head wearily, twisting onto his side to watch as German soldiers haul a furiously struggling figure between them. Muffled grunts and the sound of fabric rustling catches his ear as he blinks away the stars in his eyes and drops his shiv, hiding it beneath his ratty blanket.

“Herr Schmidt promised you your life for your compliance.”

“Let him choke on my compliance!” The voice rings in his ears as he pushes himself to a sitting position and his metal cell opens before the sound of a body colliding with the floor fills the silence. Bucky blinks hard, trying to get used to the golden light before it shuts him in the darkness once again, but the guards are already closing his gate. The person splayed on his floor gets up, rushing to the metal bars and slamming their first against the shaking thing as the soldiers laugh.

“What the hell?” he mutters, rubbing his eye and one of the soldiers look to him.

“You have company, Sergeant Barnes. Enjoy.” The sneer that seeps into the parting word causes an unwanted shiver to crawl up Bucky’s spine as the body crawls into the middle of his cell and collapses, letting out a sob. Propping himself on his hands, Bucky tries to remember where he’s heard this voice before. 

His brain feels burned, and the harder he thinks, the more it seems to whine. 

“Barnes?”

His name, whispered harshly and echoing in his four walls of prison, is the answer to his prayers, the answer he least desires. 

“Angel,” he utters, breathless as he slides to the floor. The rough cement crates against his weak, bony knees and hands take hold of him as a wet face presses against his cheek.

“Sergeant Barnes.” She all but melts into his embrace, and she burns with the heat of ten million stars, all too hot for his own feverish fingers yet still he digs his nails into her back hard enough that his bones ache. “What did they do to me?” she whispers, shaking, and Bucky pulls her back by the shoulder, one hand cupping her head gently.

“How long have you been here?” he asks carefully and she searches his gaze. “Where were you?” Her breaths shudder against his palm as he wipes away the tears from her face and in the grim, fading light, he can see blood leaking from her ear, dripping warmly onto his knuckles.

“After Azzano, they attacked the hospital.” Her breath, hot as summer rain, chills him to the bone. “They managed to evacuate all but the last few tents and they caught me.” A disgusted twist in her lip, her eyes unfocus. Bucky cups her face, feels something thrum in her pulse and she looks up, looks through him. “They said I was to be put under tests, and I’d be lucky to survive.”

Bucky’s hand on her shoulder trails to the collar of her shirt, gently hooking a finger and tugging. Colourful smudges of purple, blue, yellow, and green smear her skin. The effects of needles, huge and plunging and painful. If he looks close enough in the dark, he can spot the entry points, stabs that haven’t healed.

A flicker of fire burns brighter in his belly than the one that already soaks him in its heat.

“I don’t feel very lucky, Sergeant Barnes,” she whimpers. Bucky’s eyes flash back to hers, and when she blinks, fresh tears run over his skin. “It hurts everywhere.”

“You’ll be okay.” He brings her into his embrace, a hand on her head and the other wrapped around her back as he closes his eyes. Her arms slither around his waist and he presses his cheek against her temple. “You’re going to be okay, angel.”

She is silent. Two weeks and they’ve already beaten hope out of this place. Perhaps she isn’t quite used to the freezing agony set in her bones yet or the ache of ligaments tearing and building again as every fiber of her turns to steel. Bucky wants to tell her it’ll get better, but he doesn’t know himself. 

“You’ll have the bed,” Bucky promises and she pulls back immediately to protest but he shakes his head. “My ma would smack me if I didn’t insist.” He half-smiles and his muscles stretch pleasantly in his cheeks as her arms draw away slightly. Her hands rest on his hips and he nods to her. 

“You’re my patient,” she protests and he chuckles quietly. It’s a raspy kind of sound and it sounds hollow the more it echoes, but he means it. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“Angel, you took care of soldiers for years before I came around,” he starts, and something in her eyes flickers. He cups her cheek, the dim light barely lighting her features. The swollen bags beneath her eyes have only grown worse since he’s last seen her, and she’s lost what little healthy glow she had that coloured her face. “I think it’s time someone took care of you.”

“Sergeant Barnes, I—”

“Bucky,” he says, brushing limp hair away from her face. He can hear her thunderous heart, or perhaps it is his beating between his ears, louder than the ocean. “My name’s Bucky.”

.

“Where are the rest of the 107th?” she asks that night as they feed on cold soup. Bucky’s fingers tremble but the pain has receded into a tiny knot at the base of his skull. His arm feels like it’s about to drop off his body and with every move of his neck, heat and bruising pain spreads into his chest. She drops her spoon too loudly and they both flinch.

“They separated me from them after they began the tests,” he mutters, letting the cold broth slither down his gut. “No one came back from the isolation ward so I thought for sure I’d be dead.”

“Well, neither of us are.” She’s leaning against the metal frame of the bed, her knees tucked to her chest. Her scrappy uniform is scuffed with dirt and wet from the mold growing beneath their feet but Bucky merely smiles softly. His back against the wall, his feet are outstretched before him. He’s quite sure if she stretches her legs too, their boots would touch. “How many doses have they given you?”

“Two.” He sets down his bowl in his lap. She looks into her own, stirring, the metal cup perched on her knees. “You?”

“One.” Something in Bucky’s arm begins to tingle, as if the injection sites open wide at the sound of her voice. He lets his head tilt back until he knocks into the stone. “They kept me in another part of the factory to treat workers before they decided to use me like some lab rat.” Fabric rustles and a presence looms near him as he closes his eyes. Something warm is set in his lap and he lifts his head wearily as she settles in beside him. “You should eat.”

“What?” He picks up the one fresh ingredient to their meal, a slice of warm bread, and shakes his head. Picking it up, he tries to hand it back to her. “No, you need to eat—”

“You’ve been here longer, Sergeant.” 

“Angel—”

“I get the bed, and you get the warm bread.” She seems to sag into her shoulders and he frowns slightly. “It seems only fair.” Her hair is slick with dirt, sweat and oil as she rests her head on his shoulder and he tilts his head until his cheek presses against her scalp. Her boot knocks into his as he rips the bread apart.

“Fine. Can’t deny you a thing,” he whispers and she shakes with a silent chuckle, weak and tired. “How’re you feeling?”

“I don’t want to move away from you,” she murmurs blearily, her eyes closed as she turns her head to him. Her nose brushes his jaw as he swallows. “Tell me a story.”

“About what, sweetheart?” he asks, and the warmth of her is so comforting he could cry. Human touch that isn’t sharp and painful and terrible has caused his body to soften. Her body has twisted towards him, her knees bent and her legs hooked over one of his. “I can tell you ‘bout Brooklyn, I guess.”

“Would you?” she asks, exhausted, small, fading. She loops her arm through his, curls herself around it as he bites into the cooling crust. He swallows quickly, feeling it lump together on its way down to his stomach.

“Yeah, and I can tell you ‘bout Steve. He’s my best friend and I made him ride the Cyclone once on Coney Island. I gotta bring you there, the lights at night on a warm summer day… it’s the prettiest sight…”

He can tell the instant she slips away from him, the subtle change in her breathing and her heart rate, the peace that overtakes her face, the tender warmth that seeps into his own bones. He gently brings the slice of bread to his mouth, devouring it in two or three bites before picking up his bowl of soup again. Sipping quietly, he is careful not to disturb her as she squirms against him, seeking something warmer than what he can provide. He carefully sets down the bowl and wraps his free arm around her, squeezing gently in hopes that it’ll give life to her frigid skin.

His own heart thuds in his throat when she lets out a soft sigh and melts into his body. He tilts his head, nose in her hair as her breath puffs against his neck, soft as snow. He closes his own eyes and his mind wanders as her arms, wrapped around his arm, hold him even tighter to her own chest.

A small bomb explodes in his chest and he smiles even though no one’s looking. 

Bucky Barnes has never really loved a girl before, but in this moment, as her body fits into his like it is meant to be and he sits, rots, in an Austrian prison with poison running through his veins, he is sure he will gladly die for one.

.

It’s by the third dose for her do they understand best how to take care of one another. Bucky can usually tell when they’ll take one of them away by the meal they present. It’ll be warm, almost hot, and rich with nutrients their bodies crave, and in the mornings, fresh towels and ice will be shoved into their cell like they swelter from the heat. 

They toss her into the cell with a rattling slam with a promise to return for him soon but Bucky doesn’t say a word in return. An agonizing mess, his angel lets out a soft moan as he scoops her into his arms. The smell of clean soap and sweat clings to her skin, her hair slightly damp from the shower they always force upon them before the doses. Dark, reddening marks imprinted into her temples, her eyes stare sightlessly ahead as he lays her down on the cot. He dips a towel into the bowl of freezing water.

The soft clack of ice against the metal bowl echoes in his head as he numbly wipes away the sweat, gently cleaning her tears and soothing an ache he knows festers between her temples.

“Doctor…. Prisoner… 56899…” The words slip between her lips, soft and jumbled as she turns her head away and the pit inside of Bucky widens as he tries to catch her eye.

“Angel,” he whispers, running his hand over her cheek. “Come back to me.” Turning her face towards him, he lets out a sharp breath as her eyes stare through him. “Hey, hey, hey.”

“Bucky?” It’s like magic the way a soul seems to fill her body in a moment’s notice. Life pours into her eyes, and a hand grips at his sleeve.

“Hey, angel.” He dips the towel in ice once again and she raises a hand gently to touch his face. Her fingers tremble, clammy with sweat, as he blinks. A strange smile stretches her face and he thinks she’s laughing at him as he wipes away the blood from her ear once again. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re crying, Sergeant Barnes,” she whispers fondly and Bucky blinks again, just realizing the heat that floods his face is not from the factory that works around them. Her cold fingers swipe away the wetness from his cheeks, spread it over his face and he resists the urge to press a kiss to her palm. Instead, he uses his free hand to hold her palm to his cheek. A shiver runs down his spine. “Who’s gone and broken your heart?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” he says. She laughs again, painful and quiet, and this time her eyes flutter shut as she slips away from him. Despite how much stronger she appears with muscles that flex and wane beneath his arms, he sees the cracks they split into her soul. He hopes the love he harbours for his angel is enough to seal every single one.

He knows it is not.

.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t tell her he loves her.

He doesn’t think he can bear the thought of telling her and disappearing the very next day, but perhaps it’s the little things that count.

“There’s enough room on the bed, Sergeant Barnes,” she had said, and they started to sleep together on the small little cot barely fit for one, Bucky slightly hunched over her as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Their legs entangled and more often than not, it ended with one of them squished against the wall and the other flush against them, but it was always worth the morning blush.

“Have my blanket,” he had insisted as autumn swept over their prison cell and warm food was more and more of a necessity. Even though they didn’t need to eat and hunger no longer clawed at their stomachs, Bucky always remembered to share the slice of warm bread with her as their fingers turned numb and chattering teeth filled the silence at night.

“Hold my hand…” as fingers entwined with fingers.

“I’ll take care of you…” accompanied the sound of blood dripping onto the stone floor.

“When we get outta here…” followed by a million promises and the scratch of the shiv against the stone wall.

It’s the little things that count.

.

“You’re upset.”

Her voice is soft, gentle as snow as Bucky runs a towel raggedly through his almost-dry hair. He twists on his bed to see her standing there, in a new uniform and hair damp as it falls around her face. He thinks she’s never been more effortlessly gorgeous. Life has returned to her cheeks and her eyes spark.

“Angel,” he says with a smile and he scoots over to allow her room next to him. After a wash, he can almost imagine feeling like a new man. He tosses the towel onto the pillow behind him as she sits down. “Did they feed you yet?”

“Just had a quick wash. I was planning on eating with you,” she chirps, sliding an arm around his waist. Tugging him towards her with extraordinary strength, she smiles as Bucky ducks his head underneath her chin. Wrapping his own arms around her middle, he closes his eyes.

“I’m not upset,” he mumbles as her hand trails up his back and runs through his drying hair. “I’m just relieved we got out.”

“I know it’s more than that,” she whispers, gently tugging his head to meet eyes. When he finds her gaze, he feels boneless. A warmth floods his blood and a smile overcomes his face, small, tired. “You always let your guard down when you think no one’s looking.” But I’m always looking are the words that hang between them.

Bucky swallows and cold flashes over his body. 

“Let’s give it up for Captain America!”

“You think Steve’s gonna last till next week?” he asks quietly, hands falling away from her. He flinches back when her hands reach for him and he doesn’t see the hurt that settles on her face. “We saw soldiers die, friends bleed out, and you think Steve is gonna be different?”

“He is different.”

“Yeah, so they’ll have him fight the good fight.” His words are bitterly strung out and he wants to put a hole through the wall. “They’ll have him on the front lines and I’ll be right beside him because I can’t abandon my best friend. A best friend who I can barely recognize, and—”

“Bucky, he’s still your Steve.”

“I’m supposed to protect him!” Frosted silence pools into his heart as his breath comes in rattled gasps. His heart hammers against his ribs and he can hear hers, a gentle beat. “And I failed. So that’s the rest of my life; that’s what I’m going to do. Make up for every time I wasn’t there for him and every time I couldn’t stop him from getting hurt—”

“Steve’s changed. Even you can’t protect him from war,” she says and Bucky, with a humourless smile and darkness in his cold blue eyes, shakes his head.

“I can damn well try. If not me, who?” A hollow where his heart should be swallows him whole and he only sees the darkness of the Austrian factory, the vomit and blood after every session. The soft sobs as he whispers he can’t remember his ma’s face. Rebecca is nothing more than a fading memory. “I’m not letting this war take more from me than it already has.”

“Neither am I.” Her hands are folded in her lap and despite how desperately he wants her touch, he feels like he’s just seconds from falling apart. Sucking in a deep breath, he brings his shattered pieces together and silently tells her not to disrupt the broken glass. “If you spend your whole life protecting him, who protects you?”

“I don’t need protection.”

“Bucky.” Her sigh sweeps into his ears as she reaches for his arm and he jerks back, standing sharply. His knees shake and he feels the soreness in his feet as he meets her eyes. Her eyes glisten as she blinks against the fading dusk and he turns away to the tent exit. He barely takes a step before she pipes up again. “Does he know?” 

Turning around, he barely utters, “What?”

“What we went through. Does he know?”

“That’s not important.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” She storms up to him, face an effigy of wrath as she grabs his arm. Turning it over in her fingers, she pulls up his wrist so he is forced to stare at his own veins. They run, bulging and blue-grey, and he can hear his own blood flowing. “We got fucked over, Sergeant Barnes. You don’t even remember what your mother looks like and you say it isn’t important?”

“It’s war! I’ve been gone too long.” Bucky rips his arm from her grasp as something in him slants.

“I never forgot my brothers’ faces until I went in there.” She throws an arm out, points to some distant corner of their tent but her glazed eyes do not stray from his. “Sometimes, I can’t even remember their names and you’re no different, and right now, it isn’t about Steve. This is about you and what happened to us back there!” 

Heat bubbles underneath his skin and when she does not speak, it’s almost as an avalanche rushes through his body. “I’m trying to forget what happened to me in there! I have a job to do and I can’t… I can’t be distracted because that will get Steve killed. People die every day and I’ve gotten used to it, but I won’t let my best friend be someone I have to leave behind in No Man’s Land. I thought you of all people would understand.” Sticky, humid air clouds his face and his vision blurs as he collapses to his knees. Hands immediately land on his shoulders, slide down his back as he’s pulled into a spine-crushing embrace.

“Oh, Bucky, I do,” she whispers. She pulls him back, cups his face and the suppleness of her skin causes his shuddering breaths to hitch. He sucks in a huge gasp as he continues to crumble. He slips between her fingers as he desperately tries to pull himself together but with her every swipe of his tears, he only shatters. “I promise I do. Just let me take care of you when you can’t do it anymore.” Her thumbs brush underneath his eyes as his hands on her hips squeeze and she lets out a gentle sigh. “You can fall apart on me. I promise I’ll protect you.”

“It’s not worth it. I’m… I’m… not worth it.”

“It’ll always be worth it if it’s you,” she promises and his eyes close. Another rush of tears spill over her fingers as gentle lips press between his eyebrows. “Besides—” Her voice whispers over his skin as she tucks her chin in to look at him. His forehead presses into her sternum as he melts into her body. His hiccuping breaths shake his shoulders jerking as she runs a soothing hand through his hair, down his back—“if you’re not worth saving, then neither am I.”

At this, Bucky raises his tear stained face to his angel and shakes his head, stubborn as they come. His heart slows in his head and cool wind kisses his wet cheeks. Their lips almost brush and his breath shudders in his throat.

“I will always save you no matter what.” 

She smiles, a soft exhale that could almost be a laugh puffing against his cheek as he shifts against her, sitting up straighter. She pulls back, wiping her hand along his jacket and he sniffs, a small, watery grin cracking over his face.

“You’re quite the romantic, Sergeant Barnes.”

“How many times do I gotta tell you? My name’s Bucky.” He can hear her heart quiver as he touches her face, spreads his fingers along her cheek and gently guides her closer until he can taste the smoke and lime that clings to her skin. He can hear her breathe his name, a gentle sigh before their lips meet, and he thaws underneath her touch. 

Her fingers brush his jaw as he closes his eyes and the feel of her mouth, chapped and warm against his, is ecstasy.

Their first kiss is everything and nothing Bucky has ever dreamed it would be. A desperate clash of tears and lips and teeth, yet softer than anything he’s ever known, he knows one thing is certain in his life now.

He has found the love of his life, and only Death will do them part.

.

The wind is knocked out of him the minute he sees her. His angel has managed to steal his heart all over again and Bucky wonders how he’s going to survive the night when his eyes are glued to her. Clean, soft, and radiant, she stands there almost bashfully, waiting for him to notice her. Her smile splits her face as he remembers to close his mouth.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greets politely as she looks up at him. In her heels, she looks as if she could rule the world. Bucky barely manages to greet her before clearing his throat. His cheeks pool with heat and he looks down at his shoes, running a hand through his hair. “Where are you off to?” 

“Captain Rogers invited me to the Whip and Fiddle for an important meeting.”

“How strange. I was invited as well.” She grins as he extends an arm and she leans over to kiss the corner of his mouth. Bucky’s cheeks flare up and he turns to look at her. She loops her hand through, holding him close as they walk down the street and Bucky places a hand on top of hers along his arm.

“Who’s the lucky man?” he asks as if he isn’t walking the most gorgeous dame in all of London to some bar a few minutes away for their first date. 

“A very brave soldier,” she replies. Her heat seeps through his jacket and he turns to look at her, trying to come up with a compliment adequate enough to express how much he adores her. “You look very handsome, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Can’t compare to you, angel.” Her smile becomes tender under his gaze and she pauses just outside the pub. Inside, the frosted glass glows with the heat and with every swing of the door, merry singing and the beginnings of Dum Dum telling a story sweep into the cool air. Words pound at the back of his teeth as he stares down at her, looking so pretty in the warm lamplight of London. “How’s your family? Did you have a chance to see them?”

“Mum’s doing okay. Dad was out with my brother so I was a nice surprise to come home to.”

"It sounds like a warm welcome, doll.”

“You know, they would love to meet you, too.” He blinks, hand stalling from where he’d been brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I told them about you, if that’s alright…” 

“They know about what happened to us?” His voice is tight, just the mere mention of it burning down his arms. 

“No.” She looks guilty and Bucky wonders if the weight on her shoulders has always been there. “Mum’s got enough on her plate with my brother leaving and all. He’s, he’s actually travelling to Oxford soon so it was necessary for me to say goodbye and Dad… I don’t think he can take it. He’s lost two sons already.”

Bucky runs his thumb down her cheek, planting a tender kiss against her forehead. 

“When this war is over, we’ll find them,” he promises and she smiles, pressing her lips eagerly against his. He can’t help the huge grin that spreads across his face and he chuckles into her mouth as she plants her hands on his cheeks and holds him there, kissing him again and again. “Give me a chance to show you Brooklyn ‘n’ Shelbyville, where I was born, Coney Island… We can take the Railroad and everything.” 

“Too many places for a time like this,” she teases, pulling back. “First the Whip and Fiddle, then I show you around London and then we go to America.”

“Deal.” She smiles up at him, like they’re not in the middle of war, like they haven’t just escaped prison with blue serum running through their veins, like they’re still the boy and girl they were before.

“Let’s go in. Steve’s probably waiting,” she whispers, turning to look at the warm, fogging glass. Bucky turns, glaring at the door. Suddenly, meeting Steve doesn’t seem so inviting. Her hands trail down his face and rest on his chest as she sighs longingly. “I don’t want you to go back in there.”

Turning around again, he takes her hand from his chest and kisses her fingers tenderly. “I’m staying right here for a while longer,” he murmurs, knowing that this is not what she meant at all.

A cool chill sweeps between their bodies and Bucky tucks her into his body, wrapping her in the tightest embrace he can manage. She’s all supple muscle, carbon bone, and she’s taller than before yet all Bucky can think of is protecting her.

I love you. I love you. I love you, he thinks, eyes closing as he rests his chin in her hair. He can feel her heart beating like a soft drum through her back as she drags her hands up his shoulders. 

“You’re the only one who understands,” she whispers into the wind, yet his ears still catch it all. She buries her face into his chest, her fingers digging into the ridges of his back as he brings a hand to cradle the back of her head. “Please don’t leave me.”

His eyebrows furrow together and he doesn’t even feel the wind bite at his skin until his fingers turn purple. His chest aches and everything inside him cracks like glass under pressure. Winding, and winding, long and elegant in a catastrophic kind of way.

Never, never, never. I love you more than anything. How can I ever leave you? He wants to scream it into the night, tell her until she understands. 

I love you, I love you, I love you.

.

“A zip line?” she says dubiously, the snow dotting her hair as she sits by the fire. Heat and frost play at her face, bathing it half in white light, and half in blazing orange. “It doesn’t sound very enticing.”

Bucky forces a smile and kisses her for what he doesn’t know is the last time. She tastes like beef jerky and mountain water, and he can hear Morita making some wise crack about how gooey the Sarge is being. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always notice,” she retorts.

It sounds an awful like a confession Bucky can’t bear to hear right now.

.

They leave at dawn. 

The last thing he does is slip an envelope into her rucksack and he prays that he’ll be back before she can open it.

.

When his fingers slip, there’s a moment in time that freezes. He teeters on the edge of life and death, and he can see Steve’s outstretched hand just before his.

And then he falls and a million and one thoughts fly from his head.

All he can think of is broken promises and the Coney Island lights. The wind that rips away at him is like the way the Cyclone had tossed him through the air, safely bound by the metal bars, but this time, there is nothing holding him back. 

He throttles through the air, collides with something sharp and jagged before rolling down, through snow and ice, and his vision swims in inky black as he struggles to breathe. His lungs are paralyzed and his skull splits open as he tumbles over and he thinks the blood is coming from his head? Or maybe it’s his nose or his throat or how can he still think with all of winter’s wrath surrounding him? His head is buried in snow as he tries to remember what it was like to breathe again.

Snow falls softly around him, landing on his face like tiny kisses and it is almost as if his heart leaps to his throat. Blood bubbles at his lips, his whole body wracking with agony. He sinks into the snow, ice the pillow beneath his head. It dribbles warmly down his cheeks, leaking from the corner of his lips and the snow melts in the heat of his essence.

Wind caresses his face gently and he swallows a thick glob of blood that catches halfway as a sob pushes its way up his throat. 

He wonders how long he will stay here, broken and dying, until Death comes to collect him, but then something grabs his boot and his eyes jerk open.

Wolves. Wolves will eat me alive, he muses, too tired, too dizzy from pain to fight. The blurry grey-blue canvas above him stretches above him, brighter than anything he remembers seeing, as he raises his head blearily. Men take him by the legs and pull, something he can barely feel as his bones click into place.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Angel?” he mumbles beneath his breath, eyes rolling back into his head as it slams back into the snow and he thinks he can hear her laugh echo in the ravine above him. “I’m sorry…” 

For every promise I’ve broken, for every day I won’t be here, for every time I never told you I loved you. For loving you and leaving you. For leaving you. For loving you.

I’m sorry.