#the bad joke and the uncertain posture is the Red side

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher

Chapter 16 | Steel for Humans

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Warnings: Skeevy bandits being Skeevy bandits

Word Count: 7.5k

Note:  Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Also! My tag list is open!

He's looking at her again. 

She can feel it; a shiver up her spine, the prickling feeling in the back of her mind to be alert for something, all telltale signs of his eyes on her. Every time she turns to meet his gaze, to try and decipher the whys and what's in his eyes, he looks away. And in the midst of all of her uncertainty, she's sure of at least one thing, he's still reeling from her confession, despite it being weeks since her name, her real name slipped from her lips. He doesn't say that he's still trying to piece together the puzzle, but he doesn't need to. She can see it in the way he carries himself around her, his lingering eyes and stumbling words. 

More than a few times he's called her Jane, instinctively, if she were to have to guess. And each time she just simply raises a brow at him before he swiftly corrects himself, eyes wild and uncertain, unable to directly look into hers. She never gets mad or annoyed, the exact opposite, in fact. She's never seen this side of Geralt that resembles a fumbling boy who still isn't a man yet; all rosy cheeks and shy conversation. Normally Geralt is so put together, constantly in control of the situation, and yet, something as simple as a name change is all it takes to throw him off. 

Another thing she's certain of is just how much she enjoys the way he says her name, the smooth Valyrian name effortlessly slipping past his lips. It's like a symphony, a sound not even the most renowned of bards could replicate. But she'd never tell him that. 

She continues staring at her face in the old mirror, dust and cracks speckling across her reflection. But she looks past it, staring at her eyes that are like liquid gold, and her fair skin, nearly glowing in the dim light. She frowns, lines appearing around her mouth - lines that weren't always there. Under her eyes are small wrinkles, hidden by the dark circles from countless sleepless nights in the least ideal spots, but she can pick them out a mile away.

She's older, that much is obvious, but how much older is not.

She used to count each day, the wall near the bed in her old room in Blaviken covered in small little lines meant to represent every time she fell asleep. She stopped keeping track after the town burned to the ground. At first, it was too painful to think of anything beyond the basic necessities of her survival. But then time drifted away, things grew easier the longer she spent with Jaskier. She smiled more, laughed more, and felt lighter than she had in a long time. And now she finds herself in an odd position, unsure of how much older she is. 

"Geralt." She doesn't remove her eyes from her reflection. He grunts, a sign that he's listening. Always a man of few words. 

"How long has it been since Blaviken?" She hears a sharp intake of breath before it's released back into the air. It's silent a moment longer.

"You don't know?" Geralt asks, skepticism and disbelief abundant in his voice. 

"No." She reaches a hand up, tracing the new scars that mare her face, they're faint, nothing more than a whisper on her face. To everyone else, they're only visible in the flicker of a candle at the right angle, but she's always aware of them.

"Fifteen years." 

Her hand drops, limp at her side. She turns a flurry of hair and wind, facing Geralt with an odd expression on her face. She can't discern how to feel with that revelation. How is one supposed to react upon figuring out the fifteen years have passed, and they don't even know it? She wants to protest, to scream that he's lying to her, and demand that he tell her the truth, the real truth and not some practical joke. But the longer she thinks on it, her eyes resting on Geralt's stone face, the more it makes sense. 

She thinks back to Winterfell, trying to remember the smells of her previous home. To remember how everything felt under her fingertips - whether it be in the warm castle or the icy cold. She tries to recall how everyone looked the last time she saw them, tried to visualize their exact heights in comparison to hers, to recall small imperfections that made them not smooth porcelain dolls. Only then, when she focuses so hard on doing just that, does she realize she can't even remember their faces. She can see their general shapes, her mind recognizing them as either Jon, Robb, or anyone else important enough to remember. But when she tries to zoom in and make their faces clearer, they're nothing but humanoid-like blurs. 

Her face twitches, in discomfort or shock, she's not sure. 

"Huh." It's the only thing she manages to say, unable to force her mind to think of another response or to form the words with her mouth. She's utterly frozen in place. 

She almost allows her mind to wander, thinking of what may have happened to the rest of the Stark children. Would they have found peace and safety, or would they have blown away like leaves in the wind, desolated by monsters and grief? But she banishes the thoughts before they could form. What would be the point? All it would do is pull her into another bout of melancholy, the same suffering she was drowning in whilst hiding away in Blaviken. So she does what she's best at; she takes all unpleasant thoughts and ghosts and locks them into a little box in the back of her mind. Leaving it to collect dust until it's long forgotten. 

"You didn't know that?" Geralt asks, breaking his statue-like posture to step closer to Visenya. She doesn't answer, she simply shakes her head, her breathing shaky and unsteady. 

'Fifteen years.'

The number echoes in her mind, it's on repeat and she finds herself unable to escape it. He's silent, Geralt is always silent. But she welcomes it, more so now than ever. 

Her fingers begin to count down as she counts up, the numbers hardly above the breaths she takes. She looks down at the ground, counting the grain in the wooden floors. 

"21, 22, 23, 24…" 

She pauses, finishing the math in her mind. She opens her mouth, cautiously.

"Thirty-five… I'm thirty-five years old now." It makes sense, her face appears much older than when she first arrived, the lines and crow's feet not just a result of poor living conditions and battle scars. 

"Is that a bad thing?" Geralt asks. Visenya looks up at him. His facial expression remains much the same as before, but his eyes glow with a hint of curiosity. Not that he would ever admit to it if she ever called him out on it. 

"No, I just-- never thought I'd make it this far," Visenya says, a sardonic grin pulling at her lips that looks more like a grimace than anything. 

"With the life, you've had--" Geralt starts, his voice low and raspy, but Visenya cuts him off with a bout of laughter that sounds more like knives than bells. He closes his mouth, simply raising a brow at Visenya. 

"You have no idea, Geralt of Rivia." She shakes her head, the grin-grimace hybrid still on her face, yet her eyes tell a different story. They're despondent and regretful, and Geralt can't understand why.

"Then perhaps you should tell me." Suddenly Visenya is no longer laughing. She stares at Geralt with a type of intensity he's never seen in her eyes before. And before he can bring himself to get used to it, to allow himself to sink in the new atmosphere that surrounds them, she dissolves it, eyes turning warm and mischievous once more.

"Give it another fifteen years, and maybe then," she says, feather-light laughter following her words. She turns once more, hair whipping behind her as she continues to stare at her reflection. Her hair is longer, reaching a few inches below her breasts. Her roots are slightly grown out, allowing a little bit of shining silver to peek through the mud brown. She still can't decide if she wants to continue dying it or not. But she tucks that thought away, not wanting to unpack everything that comes with those thoughts. Not after she just packed away unpleasant thoughts that are of a similar vein. 

"Plus, I've told you more things than I've told anyone else, and still I feel as though I know nothing of you," Visenya says, turning around once more, moving away from the dingy mirror. This causes Geralt to laugh - it's rough and dark, the complete opposite of Visenya's. It causes shivers to rush up her spine and a fluttering sensation to form in her stomach. 

She passes by him, a hand ghosting over his shoulder. She exits the room and Geralt swiftly follows. His footsteps are much heavier than hers; she's like a soft summer breeze while he's the terrifying winter winds that threaten to blow everything down. 

They walk the length of the hall, down the winding staircase, and out of the inn where Roach is patiently waiting for them. Throughout their small journey, they maintained not only the same distance between one another but the same space. 

She only pauses upon reaching Roach, a hand resting on the mare's side as she gently pets her. Visenya looks at Geralt, who now stands precisely two paces away from her - one pace closer than he had been five seconds ago. 

"Fair is fair," she says, raising her brows. A grumble of a laugh escapes his mouth, so quiet it could almost be mistaken for the world itself shaking. His laughter causes his eyes to close for a brief second before he opens them once more.

"I can't argue with that. In exchange for what you've told me, I'll tell you about my first hunt. Does that sound like a fair bargain?" he asks, a certain lightness in his eyes that quickly disappears in the time it takes for her to blink and open her eyes again. She holds a hand out, and he places his own in it. They shake their hands, two times to be exact. 

"Sounds like a deal to me."

oOo

"I'd only just left Kaer Morhen, a new Witcher who was naive enough to think I could save the world. I came across a gang of men who were about to rape a young girl, a few of them holding back the girl's father." Geralt says, his voice quiet and somber, but she could hear each word perfectly. They're both riding on Roach, with Visenya in front and Geralt's arms slung loosely around her as he holds Roach's reins. The mare doesn't need much guidance though, she just follows the winding road ahead of them, and neither Geralt nor Visenya corrects her. 

"And then what happened," Visenya asks, resisting the urge to turn around and look at Geralt. He's so good at obscuring any emotion or feelings when he speaks, often opting to talk with a monotonous voice. While hilarious when dealing witty one-liners, it makes it near impossible to discern how he feels. His eyes on the other hand are a completely different story. 

To most, they may seem as empty and dead as a poorly done painting, but Visenya can read him like an open book - spotting small flickers of different emotions. After all, Visenya often employs the same tactic to appear as cold and unfeeling as possible, it's only natural she sees through when others try to do it to her.  

"I killed them, the bald man with the rotted teeth and all his friends. The girl's father fled right after--" Geralt says.

"And the girl?" Visenya says, unable to stop herself from interrupting him. When he promised her a tale of his first hunt, this isn't exactly what she expected, yet she finds herself enthralled none-the-less. A part of her wonders how different her history might've been if Geralt lived in Westeros. What would be different, if anything at all. She knows with complete certainty that the Geralt she knows would have no problem defeating the Mountain. But if Geralt lived in Westeros instead of here, he wouldn't be a Witcher. Which means he'd have none of the capabilities that make him superior to mortals. So her train of thought is moot and pointless. 

But she can't help the twitch of a smirk on her lips as she imagines Geralt slicing the Mountain's head off his body; the cut clean and precise. And instead of a girl about to be raped by a slimy bandit, she sees the Mountain looming over her mother, and Geralt saving her just in time. 

"What happened to the girl?" This time she doesn't fight the urge to turn and look at Geralt. She turns her head just enough to see the right side of his face. His eyes are far away, recalling memories that are probably lifetimes away. The mid-day sunlight aggressively shines onto his face, but it's deceiving in its harshness for it provides no warmth. The air is cold and icy, freezing dead leaves and small twigs into timeless statues that will melt when summer comes again. 

"She was covered in the bald man's blood, but unharmed, not that you'd know that with how she reacted. When I approached her, she screamed, vomited, and then passed out," Geralt says. His tone remains even, not portraying any feelings. 

She turns her head to face the road once more, her lips pursing in concentration. 

Would her mother have reacted the same if Geralt swept into her chamber like an angel of death, white hair his halo, and the blade strapped to his back his judgment? Or would she have thanked him, tears streaming down her face as she held her screaming children? 

"And how did that make you feel?" she asks, not daring to turn and look at him once more. She fears if he takes one look at her eyes, he'll see all the thoughts furiously swimming in the flames that dance in them. She can feel him shrug more than see it, the movement of his shoulders causing his arm to brush against her back. 

"Like shit," he simply replies. Visenya scoffs, a grin pulling at the corner of her lips. 

She opens her mouth, a witty quip on the tip of her tongue when she's cut off by a scream. It comes from her right, in the forest, but not so deeply hidden that the dying trees and frostbitten leaves muffle the noises. Her posture turns stiff like a board, the hairs on her body standing up straight. 

"Did you--" she begins, only to be cut off by another scream, this one more guttural than the last, yet not beast-like in nature. Visenya turns, catching Geralt's eyes. He nods, acknowledging that the shouts aren't just in her head, the manifestation of deeply hidden thoughts resurfacing. He hears it too. 

Without allowing a moment of hesitation or for her mind to catch up with her actions, she jumps off of Roach, unsheathing her blade. The dragon hilt is cold as ice, but soothing to the heat slowly rising in Visenya. 

A loud thud follows only a moment later, signaling that Geralt is following her lead. She'd feel touched by his lack of protest when it comes to her charging headfirst into the unknown, but the situation is far too dangerous for any distractions, even if only for a brief second. 

Blood rushing and heart pounding, she turns to ice as another scream echoes in their ears. It's closer this time, sounding as if someone is shouting while choking on their blood. Visenya's pace quickens, her heart racing faster as adrenaline floods her body in preparation for the potential fight that seems more likely than not as each second passes. The grip on her sword tightens as she clenches her jaw. Dozens of battle maneuvers and tactics fly through her mind, all the years of training; both in Winterfell and with Geralt blaring in her mind. 

Another scream, this one deeper than the previous. Visenya picks up her pace again, eager for this confrontation to be over before it even begins. She glances behind and Geralt is right behind her, sword unsheathed and face battle-hardened. 

For the fifth time, another scream rips through the trees, but now that they're closer, Visenya hears the rustling of what sounds like people running. The muffled noise of jeers and mocking voices trickle into her ears.

People, they're dealing with people, and not literal monsters. Though most times, people can be the worst type of monster there is.

With a deep breath that she quickly releases, Visenya reaches a handout, pushing away the branches that separate her and Geralt from the apparent attackers. 

'The blood of the dragon is not afraid.'

The phrase enters her mind without thought. But instead of banishing it away, she embraces it. She imagines Queen Visenya beside her, a stern expression on her beautiful face, lips curling into a snarl that would perfectly mimic Vhaegar. 

When she opens her eyes, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. A group of six or so humans wielding various types of weapons that were dripping with blood stand in the small clearing. The source of the screams quickly became clear; a small family of elves with blood dripping from various wounds. A male elf lays on his stomach, unmoving; meanwhile, a woman cowers in a corner, pressing her body against a tree, three children with her. The smallest of the three were huddled on either side of her as she attempted to soothe them, tears streaming down her bloodied face. Meanwhile, the oldest, only looking to be seven at the most, stands in front of her, the branch from a tree between his unsteady hands. He holds it as if it's a blade, determined to protect what remains of his family. 

The humans are bandits and not very successful ones; with worn mismatched leather armor and blades that look seconds away from rusting. But they wear sneers on the face, showing rotted teeth and foul words. They snap their attention toward Visenya who enters first and watch her for a moment as she watches them, taking in the scene before her.

She expected the worst, but nothing could've prepared her for this. It's too familiar, too close to home. She feels her vision go red, blood pumping in her veins, and skin nearly burning.

"Look at this boys, no need to find a nearby brothel. Looks like our entertainment found us," one of the men says, a twisted smirk curling on his cracked and bleeding lips. Visenya's face contorts into a look of disgust. The other men around them laugh, cackles that sound more like screams than sounds of delight. 

Visenya tightens her grip on the hilt of her sword, teeth grinding as she clenches her jaw tighter. She takes a single step forward. 

"Pretty thing you are, and you look like a fighter. Good, I like it when they fight," the man continues, undisturbed or intimidated by Visenya.

"And I like it when bastards like you are six feet under. Lucky for me you will be, soon," Visenya says, her voice gravelly and harsh like a growl. She smiles, her mouth looking more like the snarl of a wolf that's moments away from attacking. 

The man doesn't falter, instead, he barks out a laugh, pointing his finger at Visenya as he does. 

"Funny," he says. He nods his head at a few of the men, turning his attention back to the elf and her children. "But be a dear and be quiet. I have some business to attend to." He lifts his blade and begins approaching the woman. The child holds his stick up high, about to try and defend his mother when the bandit just shoves him aside, knocking the kid on the ground. A loud crack resounds in the clearing as his small head collides with a protruding rock. 

The elven woman screams, crawling to try and get as far away as possible, clutching her kids tighter against her. Tears stream down her face as vigorous as a waterfall. Dread fills Visenya, all her thoughts consumed by panic. 

"No!" Visenya screams. She moves to charge him, but a grimy hand holds onto her, keeping her from running. She turns towards the man, and wildly swings her blade. It misses, but in dodging it, he loses enough of his footing that he lets go of her.  

He goes to grab her again, but before he can try, a blade slices into his neck, causing blood to gush out of the wound before he drops to the ground. Visenya doesn't have to look to know it's Geralt, but she does anyway. A deep scowl is set on his face, eyes blazing in a way that's eerily similar to Visenya's. He growls, eyes assessing the scene before them. He glances at Visenya, then moves his eyes to the leader. Visenya nods, understanding the nonverbal cue. 

Save the girl.

"A fucking Witcher!" The man spits out. He spits turning away from the elf, no longer able to ignore the threat right in front of him. "Just kill them both, I hear Witchers make good coin."

Then everything descends into chaos. The rest of the bandits charge Visenya and Geralt, but she pays them no mind. She nimbly dodges each one of their attacks, leaving them to Geralt. Her eyes stay on the leader, who's eyes rest solely on her as well. He grabs a second blade from the ground, ripping it from the hands of the dead elf. He strides towards her and she meets him halfway in a clash of blades and fury. 

Their blades meet in a cross, the clang of metal ringing in her ears. She scowls as he snarls, spittle flying into her face. 

She jumps back and pivots to his side. His gaze follows her, body turning as she does. Like a butcher cutting a pig, he hacks down at her. She parries it with her blade, pushing it away as if it's nothing more than an annoyance. His second one comes down a moment later and she dodges to the other side, the blade slicing through empty air. A third swing, his other hand comes down, this time towards her face. She crouches low to the ground as she brings her blade up to block the hit, using her lower position to steady her body as she pushes against him, both hands holding onto the hilt. 

He presses down and she pushes upward, arms shaking from the exertion.  She screams, the sound eerily similar to the roar of a dragon, moments before it decimates its enemies with its fiery wrath. With a burst of power, she shoots up, causing him to stumble back. 

Right and left, she slashes her blade at him. His leather armor takes the brunt of the first hit, but the second one manages to piece into flesh. She snarls as he screeches in pain. Clammy hands begin to shakily smack against his belt, desperately looking for a blade to try and stick her with, but she doesn't give him the chance. 

She kicks him in the abdomen. The force of it slamming his already weak body against a tree. There's a loud crack as his body makes contact, another howl of pain escaping his mouth. 

"Stupid bit--" 

Her blade stabs into his neck, stopping him mid-sentence. Blood pours out of his mouth, a gurgling sound replacing his scratchy voice. 

"Fuck you," Visenya says. She then spits at him, the saliva landing on his chest and disappearing into the blood. 

She sighs, the sounds of fighting die down, and she turns around. Geralt is standing in the center of the clearing, blood speckling his armor and dripping off his blades, but luckily none of the blood is his. Her tense shoulder loosens slightly, the adrenaline leaving with the threats. She tosses her blade to the side, making a mental note to clean it later. 

Turning to her right, she sees the elven woman with her children still cowering in the corner, all three of her children around her, the eldest of them knocked out cold. Now that no threats are looming over them, Visenya allows herself a moment to inspect the three of them. 

The mother looks to be middle age, with wheat blonde hair and pallid skin, her bones protruding in a way that the bones of someone well-nourished wouldn't. Her eyes are down and as large as a doe, the sparkle in them enhanced by salty tears. 

The small girl looks nearly identical to her, her wheat hair in a messy braid that's falling apart. She clutches her mother's hand tighter, moving further into her the longer Visenya looks at her. The other boy is the complete opposite, with dark disheveled hair and blue eyes. His face is blotchy and wet from tears, but he doesn't seem to fully understand why. Staring at Visenya with blank curiosity rather than fear.

"Are you hurt?" Visenya asks, making a conscious effort to make her voice as light and harmless as possible. She takes a step forward, a branch breaking under her foot. The woman gasps, pressing herself further against the tree. 

Visenya stops, holding her arms up, a nonverbal sign that she means peace. The woman doesn't relax, not that Visenya expects her to.

"You--you--you," the woman stutters, tears still streaming down her face, but not as frantically as they were moments ago. 

"Saved you, yes," Visenya says, taking another step forward. The woman doesn't cower, but her fear doesn't lessen. 

"I don't have coin," she says, her voice wavering in between her sobs. Visenya shrugs, a small smile curling on her lips.

"And I have more than enough," Visenya says. The woman continues to stare at her, not uttering a single word. It's like they're frozen in place, only the tears running down her cheeks and their shaking forms giving away that they're in fact real. Visenya feels her stomach twist itself into knots. 

She should grab her blade and leave the clearing behind, get back on Roach with Geralt and ride off to the next destination. At the very least her conscience would be eased by the fact that they kept these band of idiots from hurting the woman and her children. 

And yet…

A voice whispers in her ear to not, that she'd never stop thinking about this moment, wondering what became of them. Did they save them from these bandits only to get robbed and left for dead by the next group of pricks with pointy swords? She couldn't live with it, she realizes. Not if she doesn't do everything in her power to ensure they arrive home safely and alive… wherever home is. A sigh escapes her mouth, so quiet it could be mistaken for the wind. 

"You have no reason to trust me, I get that, but at the very least I saved you from those pricks, so I can't be that bad, right?" Visenya asks, voice rougher and blunter than she intended for it to be. Internally she winces as the woman cowers for a brief second, but then slowly she nods her head.

"Right. Your son is injured, how serious, I'm not sure. I don't know, maybe you have some training in the art of healing, but if you're not, at the very least, I'm no stranger to minor injuries. I can help him," Visenya continues. The elven woman doesn't cower anymore, her rapid tears dwindling to a light drizzle rather than a heavy pour. She nods once more, and Visenya finds herself sighing in relief. 

Without wasting another moment she takes a step forward, turning towards the child on the ground. She crouches beside him, his mother moving to be on his other side. Her shining eyes are sharp, watching Visenya with the likeness of a hawk watching its prey. 

He looks to be a mixture of his mother and presumably his father. His hair is a dirty blonde, freckles dotting his tan skin. He's not nearly as frail as his other siblings, similar to how Jon, Robb, and Theon looked when they first started training in Winterfell. But he seems to have much less meat on his bones. 

Visenya places her warm hands on his face, lifting his head and moving a hand to gently cradle his head. There's a large bruise blossoming on the right side of his forehead, but there's no blood or any other signs of injury. She places a hand on his heart, feeling it beat against her hand, then slides it to the side of his neck, feeling a pulse there as well. 

"He didn't get hit with a weapon," the woman says, whether convincing herself of his safety or trying to feed Visenya information she isn't sure. Or it could be a mixture of both. 

"No, but he took a hard fall, I've seen men twice his size get knocked on their heads and never get back up, and if they do, they're never the same. There's bleeding, but that doesn't mean he's completely safe," Visenya says, removing her hands from his body. 

"Is there anything to be done?" she asks, picking his up and gently cradling his head in her lap. 

"Other than wait and see when he wakes? No. As I said, I'm no healer, but I have a tea that can help ease his pain. He'll have a bad headache and sore body, that much is certain," Visenay says. She looks over at the two other children; a girl and a boy. They're young, that for certain, younger than the boy on the ground. 

"How much?" the woman asks, not removing her eyes from her son. Visenya's brows furrow in confusion.

"How much what?"

"How much will I owe you for the herbs?" the woman asks again, looking Visenya directly in the eyes. Her tears are dry, but her eyes still shine from the residual dampness. 

"Nothing. He needs it now more than I do. I can buy more when I reach the next town," Visenya says, keeping her face as pleasant as possible. The woman purses her lips, clearly in thought. Silence washes over them until it's broken by the woman. 

"Thank you. Not many humans would show kindness to elves, much less two so well trained in fighting." 

Visenya snorts, a smirk appearing on her face. 

"One human and a mutant, actually. But you're welcome. What good is all the fighting talent in the world if you don't use it well," Visenya says, slowly standing from the ground? The woman's eyes follow her form as she stands to her full height. "Our horse is near the road. We can take you wherever home is, and make sure you get there safe."

The woman nods, adjusting her son in her arms so that he is lying across her lap. With Visenya's help, she stands from the ground, holding her son's bridal style. Her two other children stay close, hiding a bit behind her, each one with a hand attached to her dress. Visenya turns, eager to leave the clearing and forget any of this happened, but the woman stopped her. 

"I've already lost Aldon, my husband. I could not lose my son too, I truly appreciate what you have and are doing for us."

"I wouldn't speak so soon," Geralt's gravelly voice enters the conversation. They both turn to see him kneeling beside the body, two fingers against his neck. "He's fading, but he hasn't died yet." 

Visenya strides towards Geralt, the woman, still holding her son, hot on her trail while her two children stay in place, silently watching with wide eyes. Visenya sits beside Geralt as the woman nearly collapses on the other side of Aldon's body. She takes a hold of his hand, her grip so tight her fingers begin to turn white.

"Can we save him?" Visenya asks. Geralt grunts, gesturing with his head in the direction behind them. She nods, knowing what he's saying without having to physically say it. She stands and runs the way they came in. Her feet are heavy, beating into the soil and breaking any twigs or crunchy leaves. The world is a blur around her, wind rushing against her skin. They can save him, but only if Visenya can get the supplies back to Geralt in time. 

Either by sheer dumb luck, or the gods truly have shown them favor, Roach is right where they left him. Visenya releases a heavy sigh as she beelines straight for her pack that hangs off of Roach. 

"Good horse. I'm going to give you so many apples once we reach civilization," Visenya breathes out, untying her pack from his saddle. He neighs, happily it would seem. She smiles, patting his side a few times before turning and rushing into the forest once more. 

Everyone is in the exact spots as when she left. Geralt is leaning over Aldon with his wife sitting on the other side of his body. She clutches his hand in hers, knuckles turning white from the tightness of her grip. Her lips are quivering with large eyes, her body shaking every few minutes, the stark contrast of Geralt. With thin lips, hard eyes, and unwavering hands as he cleans the wound to the best of his ability; he's the epitome of stone. Visenya runs towards them, tossing the bag at Geralt once she crosses halfway through the clearing. He catches it in his hand, flipping it open and rummaging through it. He pulls out various bottles; some with powders, liquids, herbs: both brushed and whole, and bandages. 

Visenya slows her pace, moving around Aldon to sit beside his wife. She glances at Visenya for a moment before looking back at her husband. She;'s breathing heavily, the sharp intakes of breath sporadic. A hiccup escapes her mouth every few seconds, eyes on her husband, waiting and hoping for any signs of recovering. Hand on the grass, it moves over until it brushes against her free hand. She doesn't look away from her husband, but she takes Visenya's hand, her cold body instantly feeling warmer from Visenya's proximity. It provides comfort, a sense of reassurance that Geralt knows what he's doing. That her husband will make it out of the mess, and this day won't become a travesty that's burned in her mind. 

Geralt works quickly, each minute passing in a blur. He tears strips of bandages off with his teeth, the tearing sound from it enough to keep Visenya from getting lost in her thoughts. He wipes away the blood with a cloth, pouring a liquid that smells suspiciously like alcohol over the wound. It hisses upon contact but the noise swiftly dissipates. He then grabs one of the vials that contain a thick liquid. It's amber, with various herbs and other ingredients slightly discoloring it. He packs it into the wound, laying down multiple thick layers of the poultice. He then lifts the torso of the man just enough to wrap his torso in bandages. With her only free hand, Visenya helps him keep the body off the ground, mutely watching Geralt work. 

Finally, Geralt sighs, removing his hands from the body, the two of them gently lowering him to once again lay on the ground. Blood is no longer gushing from the wound on the side of his body, unable to seep through the dense layers above it. 

"They were pricks, but luckily they weren't skilled pricks. He would've bled out, but it wasn't a fatal blow. When he wakes he'll be weak, but alive," Geralt mutters. Visenya sighs, eyes moving to the elven woman. She removes her hand from Visenya's grip, moving her child off of her lap. Visenya immediately places hands on the small boy, taking him from his mother and cradling him. The woman cries out in relief, hovering over Aldon's body and placing a hand on his cheek. 

She looks down at the boy in her arms, noticing the way his eyes twitch under his lids. He's dreaming, it seems. And from the small grin on his face, it's a good one. A soft smile forms on Visenya's face, wide eyes watching the boy, her breathing matching his. A familiar tingling sensation runs up her spine. She glances up, seeing Geralt's gaze firmly on her. She smiles, and he returns it. They've done it, managed to save an innocent family, keeping them from being torn apart by stick bastards with pointy sticks. It's...nice.

"We probably shouldn't move him too much in fear of disturbing his wounds. How far are you from here?" Visenya asks, turning her attention back to the woman. She lifts her head, eyes moving from her husband to Visenya. They're wet with tears again, but not tears of sorrow or fear. This time they're from an overwhelming feeling of joy and hope she didn't have moments ago.

"It's a short distance, we live just on the outskirts of Brunwich," she says. Visenya nods, opening her mouth but Geralt speaks before her.

"We just left," Geralt says.

"And we can turn back around," Visenya interjects, looking at Geralt with a stony expression; lips in a firm line and eyes daring him to contradict her. She clutches the child closer to her, not willing to let them go just yet. They need to be safe and back home, and Visenya needs to see it with her own eyes. Otherwise, her consciousness will never be sated. And Geralt gleans this, causing a sigh to leave his lips, not bothering to start an argument he knows he wouldn't win. 

"We can," he concedes, voice lacking any form of enthusiasm or conviction in his words.

"Excellent." Visenya returns her attention to the woman. "Since his injuries are the most delicate, your husband can ride on Roach, and you can ride with him. I can hold your son, but would your two other children be okay to walk? I'm not sure they'd fit on Roach." 

"They won't. We should camp here for the day until he's conscious and well enough to ride," Geralt says. Visenya nods and looks at the woman for confirmation, who nods as well. 

"In that case, I will get Roach," Visenya says. She begins to adjust the boy in her lap to give him back to his mother, but she stands from the ground. 

"I'll come with you," she says. Visenya nods, standing from the ground as well. She walks around Aldon, to stand beside Geralt. She gestures with her chin down at the child. Geralt opens his arms, reluctantly. She places the boy in his arms, and turns, dusting off any dirt that clings to her armor. Visenya nods at her and the two of them exit the clearing. 

The air around them is quiet. They neither speak nor acknowledge each other. Occasionally Visenya glances at her out of the corner of her eyes, and she catches the woman doing the same thing. It's almost like two wolves dancing around each other, trying to figure out how to approach the other. It isn't hostile, neither of them having any obvious tension. It's just….silent. 

The woods are as gloomy as before; a cold chill sweeping through the air with dead trees and crunching leaves in shades of brown coloring their world. Yet everything somehow feels lighter, less dull, and grey. Visenya feels weightless, the adrenaline from the battle still lingering in her veins and the rush from saving innocent lives giving a small skip in her step. 

"I am Amaria," the woman -- Amaria says, making the first move. Visenya nods, continuing to look straight ahead. 

"I am Amaria," the woman, Amaria, says. Her voice is louder than she's heard it, yet the only other times she spoke was during great distress. There's a melodic tone to it, each word slightly flowing together like the lyrics of a song. Visenya nods her head, staring straight ahead. 

"Visenya." Leaves crunch under her boots, matching the pace of her heart, and the distant song that lingers in the back of her mind. It's been too long since she's heard music - and not just the drunken yodeling of tavern goers. She misses music and singing that are enjoyable to listen to. She misses the small tunes and fumbling lyrics that Jaskier always sang throughout the days. Everything is too silent now, and she finds herself trying to fill the silence the way he did. 

"That's a beautiful name," Amaria remarks, stepping over an overly large root. Visenya smiles, glancing over at her. She's only the second person to call her Visenya. It's relieving...finally able to take ownership of her own name once again. 

"Thank you, it's a family name." Amaria nods, falling silent once more, and unlike moments prior, this silence is not an easy one. Nerves fill Visenya, the uncertainty of what to say - if she should say anything at all overwhelming. She mulls over it for another moment, before just opening her mouth and hoping to not offend. 

"What are your children named?" Visenya asks. 

"Rohir is my oldest at seven, he's the one you helped. Then there's Elana, she's only four and my youngest is Vyron, he's only two," Amaria says, a wide smile appearing on her face as she thinks about her children. Visenya watches her with keen eyes, a pang of envy stabbing into her, a piece of her longing to know the feeling of having a family that's all your own. 

"They're beautiful," Visenya says, tightly nodding her head. She drums her fingers against the side of her leg. 

"Do you have any?" Amaria asks. She's seemingly unaware or unconcerned by the awkward air that surrounds Visenya. But it's nothing new, she's never been the best with people. Constantly being around such loud people like Jaskier, or quiet and reclusive people like Geralt, she never notices. But now, walking in the forest alone with Amaria, she can't help but notice how extremely difficult something as simple as conversation is. 

"No," Visenya says, crouching to avoid smacking into a low hanging group of branches. Amaria nods, and then sighs. Her face scrunches into discomfort; pursuing her lips with eyes that are narrowed slightly. 

"Sorry, I should not have asked. I'm sure Witcher mutations make conceiving a child near impossible," she says, her voice sympathetic and apologetic. Absentmindedly Visenya nods, only a moment later, fully processing the words. 

"Wait what?" Visenya stops in her tracks, turning to face Amaria. Her mouth is agape and eyes wide, ashen brows furrow in confusion with lines on her forehead. She continues a few steps before realizing Visenya is no longer walking with her. She stops as well, turning around and facing Visenya.

"You and the Witcher. Aren't you two..." Amaria trails off. Visenya's cheeks are bombarded with heat that makes her skin bright red. There's a funny feeling in her stomach, tingles rushing up her spine. The thought of her and Geralt together isn't unpleasant, and that's the worst part. She almost enjoys the idea. But she quickly sweeps that away, her and Geralt having children would be disastrous, not that he probably could. 

"Geralt and I are not...together," Visenya says, tone more frantic than she intended. 

"Oh, I just thought maybe…"

"Well, you thought wrong," Visenya says, the words harsher than she intended for it to be. She releases a sigh of frustration, watching Amaria jump, slowly taking one step back from Visenya. Quickly, she crumbles back into the scared rabbit she was when Visenya first saw her. The familiar look in her eyes quickly snaps Visenya out of her frustration. Guild replaces her bubbling temper, immediately dousing out any annoyance in her voice. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh," Visenya says. Amaria nods, frown curling into a small smile. "Please, forgive me."

"You are forgiven. I should not have made such assumptions," Amaria says. She steps closer towards Visenya, a non-verbal sign that she doesn't hold any fear for her. Visenya smiles at her, and the two of them continue walking once more. Silence cloaking them in its aura for the rest of their walk, neither speaking even upon reaching Roach and bringing his back to Geralt and her family. 

oOo

Tags: If your name is crossed out, it means I wasn’t able to tag you.

@lyssstark01​ | @ayamenimthiriel​ | @splderparker​  | @historicallydysfunctional​ | @stuckupstucky​ | @aknerdchick​ | @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​ | @itskatrinahere​ | @locht3ssmonster​ | @alwayshave-faith​ | @im-catching-feelings​ | @magic-inthe-stars​ | @thors-hair-extensions​ | @seninjakitey​ | @nevaeh-eden-morningstar​ | @losers-club6​ | @queenmendes​ | @madamwhisper​ | @deadlydemon​ | @power-of-words23​ | @demigoddesofchimichangagod​ | @howlongtillidie​ | @notatallfriendly​ | @i-have-arrived-bitch​ | @moonlights27​ | @xxperfectionisdeadlyxx​ | @why-do-i-even-study-japanese​ | @possiblyafangirl​ | @alatairion​ | @teamcap0221​ | @rangotangomango​ | @mikariell95​ | @rubyliquor​ | @my-not-so-perfect-reality​ | @kamrynzam​ | @kohsongbird​ | @napoleonisrad​ | @loushirley​ | @toribentleyva​ | @naughty-koala07​ | @im-a-muggleborn​ | @scarletmeii​ | @tangerineliqu0r​ | @dopeybubbles​ | @toweavehistory​ | @honestlystop​ | @thinkaboutmara​​ | @amarisjoy​ | @1967-chevy-impala-called-roscoe

[pastelwitchling]

               “Alex, open up,” Michael called, knocking on his front door.

His knuckles were beginning to hurt, but he was relentless. He knew Alex was inside, and was, for some reason, choosing to ignore him. But he’d given up on Alex too easily in the past, and he’d promised himself long ago that he wouldn’t rest until they were together. If that meant knocking until his hands were bruised and bloody, then so be it.

His only real problem at the moment was not knowing why Alex was avoiding him. Everything had seemed fine a few days ago – more than fine, even. They’d hung out at the Crashdown, he’d managed to make Alex laugh. He’d even made the risk of brushing his fingers against Alex’s, and Alex hadn’t pulled away.

Michael was sure things were only going to get better moving forward, but then he’d tried calling Alex the next morning to ask him to breakfast, and the airman had not responded. He’d tried calling again for lunch, then dinner, then breakfast again the following day, but still, Alex wouldn’t answer him.

Michael didn’t want to ask Kyle if he’d heard from him lately, knowing nothing would sting more than the knowledge that Alex was taking Valenti’s calls and not his.

“Alex!” Michael called again. “Come on, I know you’re here.”

Michael soon heard shuffling behind the door, but he didn’t cease knocking. Instead, his knocks turned harder and faster, refusing to let Alex off the hook for finally showing up.

The door opened and Michael’s fist hit the air a few times. “Didn’t think you’d actually answer, to be . . . honest . . .” he trailed off as he stood face to face with the airman.

Alex’s eyes were red and puffy, his face red, his hair a perfect mess, and he had a blanket tight around his shoulders.

“You’re . . . sick?” Michael said.

“Well spotted, Guerin.” Alex sniffled, and turned his back on the cowboy. “You coming in or what?”

Michael realized Alex was talking to him a second too late, and hurried in past the threshold after him. He came into the living room to find a box of tissues, the bin next to the couch filled to the brim with them, and a steaming cup of tea on the table.

“Why were you yelling anyway?” Alex said wearily, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in months as oppose to a few days. “You know I can hear you, right?”

“I –” Michael started, and Alex sat down with a heavy thump on the couch, his head falling back with his eyes closed. He was wheezing. “You’re really sick.”

Alex peeked an eye open. “You sound shocked.”

“Maybe I am,” Michael shrugged a shoulder, unable to look away from Alex’s sleeping face. “I . . . guess I never really thought you got sick. I mean, you’re Alex Manes. Nothing hurts you.”

Alex scoffed faintly, as if he didn’t have the strength for anything more than that. “Mm.”

Michael pursed his lips. “You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

Alex huffed a pained chuckle, and immediately went into a fit of coughs. Michael was at his side in an instant, rubbing his back soothingly. The coughs subsided, and Alex covered his face with his hands, heaving a shaky sigh.

Michael could not stop touching him. He ran his hand up and down Alex’s back, his heart hammering at the way Alex’s muscles went pliant beneath his touch. Michael swallowed and cupped Alex’s jaw and turned his face. Alex’s hands fell to his lap and his eyes fluttered shut. Michael’s thumb gently caressed his cheek.

“You’re burning up,” Michael murmured. “You want me to make you some soup?”

Alex shook his head, and Michael laid back against the couch as Alex leaned into him, his fist curled near his lips. His breaths were deep and punctuated only by the rare cough here and there as he slept on Michael’s chest.

“It’s so cold,” Alex muttered weakly, and Michael tucked the blanket around him and wrapped him in his arms even tighter, holding him closely.

“I’ve never seen you like this either,” Michael whispered against his hair, his hand still on his back. With every stroke downward, Alex inched closer and closer to Michael until he was almost on his lap. “I like it.”

Alex made a grumbling noise, his eyes still closed. “You like seeing me sick?”

Michael pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Alex’s head, and felt his heart soar when Alex didn’t pull away. “That part’s a nightmare. When you wake up, I’ll make you something to eat. But I like seeing you . . . want me.”

“I always want you,” Alex said, and snuggled deeper into Michael’s chest. “Stop talking. M’trying to sleep.”

A smile tugged at Michael’s lips. “Then sleep,” he whispered, and pressed another kiss to Alex’s head.

It wasn’t until a few days later that Michael had come back to Alex’s house with a fresh order of hot soup from the Crashdown. He was just considering asking if he should stay over tonight, to make sure that Alex could have him if he needed him, when Alex answered the door looking well-rested and not at all pale.

“Hey,” Alex said easily, and raised his brow at the soup. “Is that for me?”

Michael’s smile faltered. “H-Hey. Uh – yeah. You look . . . better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex said. Michael noticed he had yet to let him in. “I think that meal you made last night really helped me kick the last of this cold. I woke up today feeling so much better.”

“And the fever?”

“Totally gone.” He smiled. “Great, huh?”

“Yeah,” Michael mustered the best smile he could. “Great.”

He was happy to not see Alex sick anymore, but he also knew that Alex cuddling up to him had been brought on by the cold. Now that he was healthy, would he even let Michael touch him anymore?

“Uh,” Michael cleared his throat and held up his box of takeout. “I guess you won’t need this then.”

“Not right now,” Alex agreed. He took the bag from Michael and said, “Just a sec.”

He disappeared into his hall, and Michael didn’t dare follow. He didn’t know if he was allowed. He put his fingers through his beltloops, wondering if he should go home now, or wait for Alex to give him an awkward excuse of how busy he was today, and how they couldn’t really sleep on the couch together like they’d been doing lately.

Then Alex came out, shrugging on his jacket, and closed the door behind him.

“You ready?”

Michael blinked. “W-What?”

“To go to lunch,” Alex clarified like it was obvious. “You know, you took care of me these past few days, so I’m treating you. I thought we agreed.”

Michael pursed his lips and shook his head, his heart climbing into his throat. Alex was dressed up as if they were going on a date. Michael didn’t dare call it that out loud; he was afraid Alex might correct him.

“Oh?” Alex raised a brow. “So . . . you don’t want to go to lunch?”

Michael searched Alex’s face. Maybe it was the gradual disappointment sneaking into the airman’s features, the way his shoulders fell slightly, the way his posture turned more and more uncertain that made Michael say what he said next.

“Private, I’d marry you if you asked.”

Silence. That was, Michael realized, probably the wrong thing to say.

Alex looked at him with wide eyes, startled. If ever there was a time Michael could’ve had the earth open up and swallow him, that would be it. He started to chuckle, hoping to play it off just as a really, really bad joke. Alex didn’t laugh.

“So,” Alex said slowly, “you ready? Let’s go.”

He started to walk off, and Michael started to follow him. When they got into his car, Alex suddenly leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Now it was Michael’s turn to be startled. Alex was putting his seatbelt on, avoiding Michael’s gaze, but Michael could see his cheeks turn a dark shade of red.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Alex sighed. “You think I was so out of it these past few days that I never felt you kiss me? I’m paying you back.”

Michael blushed himself, but he smirked. He reached over and touched Alex’s lips, trying not to shiver at how soft they were. “You know, I snuck a few kisses there.”

Alex shook his head, but leaned over to take Michael’s lips in his. Michael was surprised that had worked, but didn’t dare say it as his hand immediately came up to hold Alex’s head in place, keeping him close. He opened his mouth against Alex’s, hoping to deepen the kiss, but Alex pulled away again.

“Do we have to go to lunch?” Michael breathed when Alex started the car. “I’d really rather eat you.”

Alex looked like he was trying not to laugh. They pulled out of his driveway. “Thanks for taking care of me, Guerin.”

Michael took Alex’s free hand and kissed his fingers, holding tight so that Alex couldn’t let go even if he had wanted to. He didn’t seem to have wanted to. “Anytime.”

[unaccomplishedwriter]

THE HERO YOU NEED

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Prologue here

Chapter One

Decisively locking herself into her compartment alone, (y/n) sunk down into her seat with a loud plop. Clutching her wand, she rolled the violet amethyst handle between her fingers, a habit she’d adopted ever since her first year at Ilvermorny. She could feel the tears starting to cloud her vision as she stared out the window to her parents standing on the platform. Though she wanted to cry, she refused to let them fall. Her parents wouldn’t care anyway. This was the most determined they’d been to have her do something in her entire life.

To (y/n)‘ s bitter frustration, she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to her friends and beloved professors. Her parents sprung the frightful news merely a few days before she was due for the new school year in America; gave her a few days to get come to terms with starting a new life elsewhere. She’d never resented their job more, even when it had them disappearing for months on end.

And even more frustratingly, they refused to tell her why. But the cold conviction in her father’s eyes and the shadows of something darker and more uncertain — in her mother’s, (y/n) couldn’t find it in herself to disobey them either.

So yet here she sat, on some godforsaken train in some godforsaken robes making sure not to spill these godforsaken tears.

Life couldn’t be worse for her right now.

And as if to mock her, the loud sound of the door handle rattling startled her from her melancholy staring contest with her parents. To top it off, the train had finally jerked into motion, her heart along with it. Shaking from sheer surprise, the blood rushed to her ears, nearly drowning out the arrogant alohamora from the other side of the door.

A tall blonde boy sauntered into the compartment, a sneer on his face.

“How dare you take my compartment, you filthy—,”

The words died in his throat as his eyes landed on the girl in the corner. Her eyes were glassy and her nose was red, giving her (s/c) skin a flushed glow. Normally he’d take the opportunity to mock them further, but his jaw refused to move. Not liking being gawked at, (y/n)’s voice filled the silence.

“You were saying?” She snapped.

Whatever it was, it was going to be rude. A glare made its way to her face as she angrily blinked her tears away. Using this time to take in the boy’s features, (y/n) couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised. He was rather handsome, with fine blonde strands of hair falling into his face. He had clear grey eyes that reminded her of her overcast skies, which she rather liked. The green and silver Slytherin crest was proudly displayed on his chest, and her preconceived notions about Hogwarts’ houses set in just a bit more.

“I—I—Um, are you new?” He stuttered dumbly. The stupid look on his face was enough to wash some of her irritation away, and she relaxed her shoulders a bit. Furrowing her brows, she stared at the door until the boy got the hint and closed it behind him. It wasn’t until he was sat across from her and their eyes were locked again before she bothered to answer his question.

“I’m not a little first year, if that’s what you’re asking. But... yes, I am new. I’m a fourth year.”

He nodded his head, continuing to stare at her. She started to feel a bit put off before he opened his mouth again.

“Not from here, either. You an American? What’s your name?”

“I am American. I’m (F/n) Hightower.”

His eyes bugged out of his head, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. He was rather entertaining...and cute, if she’d had to admit.

“Hightower as in one of the oldest American Wizarding families? Your family practically helped pioneer the entire setup of the American Wizarding World,”

He exclaimed. A throb of annoyance fell upon her, but (y/n) brushed it off. Her family name meant she had a fuckton of expectations placed on her shoulders, and she didn’t particularly want them to carry over to her new life at Hogwarts.

“And your name?” She asked. He sat back proudly, a smug smile gracing his face. A smirk soon mirrored it on (y/n)‘s; she’d always liked seeing self-assurance on others.

It made her wish she had some for herself.

“I’m a Malfoy, of course. Draco Malfoy,” he reached out with his hand, before freezing and pulling it back quickly. The embarrassed laugh that followed made (y/n) laugh as well. She’d heard of the Malfoys, and so far this Draco boy aligned with most of what she’d learned. Perhaps a bit more charm, though.

They talked animatedly about their families for a while, finding familiarity in the pressure of a high-profile background.

“So which house do you recommend?”

Perhaps it was a stupid question, but she enjoyed the way his eyes lit up following it regardless.

“Slytherin, obviously! We’re the best at everything and have the most house cups under our belt,” he bragged. “The other houses are full of losers, but if there were a house I’d definitely stay away from it would be Gryffindor. They’re a bunch of self-righteous freaks,” Draco huffed, crossing his arms. His childish comment and posture eliciting an eye roll.

“Forget I asked,” she joked. (Y/n) explained a bit of how Ilvermorny’s sorting process went about, hers in particular. The subject seemed very interesting to the blonde haired boy and she found herself gradually reddening from the attention.

But she’s (Y/n) freaking Hightower, and she does not get flustered by boys.

“I knew the moment I saw you that you were different,” he boasted. “I’d have remembered seeing a girl like you around before—,”

“A girl like me?” She cut in, making him falter. As if just realizing what he’d said, Draco’s face turned red, and he recoiled back into his seat.

“I meant— you— you’re from a good family, is all.” He stammered. With a raised brow, (y/n) leaned forward, invading some of his space.

“Family isn’t everything you know. You’re only what you make of yourself... not to mention, outside of the Wizarding World, we’re not much. The muggles have accomplished loads without magic, I’d say that’s something to applaud on its own.”

He gaped at her for a moment, jaw hanging. Feeling self-conscious, she drew back a bit. She suddenly remembered the clear division between muggles and wizards here in Europe, and felt stupid for bringing it up.

“Who cares about muggles? They’re even worse than the mudbloods — at least they can do magic, no matter how poorly,” he sniggered, a glimpse of the initial nastiness she saw when he’d first entered her compartment.

A scowl now adorning her face, (y/n) stood up abruptly.

“I grew up alongside muggles, you know. Their technology can make life very convenient,” she hissed. Muggles were a sore subject for (y/n) amongst her magical friends; though not as bad as Europe, the American Wizarding world still practiced some degree of separation from muggles, which fostered some less-than-kind mentalities amongst some of her peers back in America. She assumed it would be worse here, but coming face to face with it from a boy who’s company she otherwise enjoyed was decidedly unpleasant.

Draco stared up at her, taken aback. “Well, they—they just don’t belong with us,” he exclaimed, standing up as well.

Her face officially hot, (y/n) marched past him and threw open the doors of the compartment.

“If that’s what you think,” she hissed, “you can leave.”

For what seemed like the thousandth time since they met, Draco once again gaped at her. Face twisting, he strode past her.

“Didn’t take a Hightower for a blood traitor,” he spat, slamming the door behind him.

Furious, (y/n) slammed herself back into her seat before promptly shutting the blinds in her window, darkness encasing her cabinet.

Welcome to Hogwarts, she moaned.

*

As she gazed glumly at the gaggle of first-years in front of her, (y/n) couldn’t help but curse her parents to the high heavens for the millionth time that day. Going through the bated torture of just one house sorting three years ago was quite enough, thank you. She never thought she’d be here again, experiencing this again. Hogwarts and Ilvermorny unfortunately did not have some sort of house equivalency, thus her recent move meant she was forced to be sorted once again like some sort of anxiety-ridden eleven year old.

Well, she wasn’t. She was an anxiety-ridden fourth year, and for Merlin’s sake, this stupid hat was by far the most tedious being she’d ever bore witness to existing!

It spent a good twenty minutes on some students, and heavens knows how long this event would actually last. She didn’t even want to be here anyway.

But as another child was sorted, the thunderous applause of Ravenclaw house deafened her ears yet again and she couldn’t resist the small smile that crept along her face. At the very least, Ilvermorny and Hogwarts had one thing in common: comraderie. She’d heard gossip about how intense the house rivalry of Hogwarts was, but for now, it was nice to see a bit of community shown in order to drown out her lonely anxieties.

It was another thirty minutes before her name was called, and the Great Hall descending into a suffocating silence. A good two heads taller than the first-years, she stood out like a sore thumb. But if (y/n) was to be deemed as anything, she wanted it to be confident, so she sauntered up to the platform without delay. Her face was the picture of calm, but she couldn’t resist tightening her grip on her wand as she felt the inumerable amount of eyes on her. She’d thought about which house she’d prefer to get sorted into beforehand, but had doubts.

(Y/n) was 100% sure her personality aligned best with Slytherin, but the house’s propensity for dark magic and prejudice didn’t bode well with the kind of wizard she wished to be. Gryffindor seemed the next best choice, but the tact and levelheadedness of Ravenclaw house was something she’d surely advantage from.

She considered all of these options, but when the hat descended on her head, there was only one house actually in her mind.

“Oh-ho-ho! A Pukwudgie! A special one at that! Looks like we have future Wizarding royalty in our presence. Though, you lot’s preferred way of sorting is quite boring though, innit? Well, I’d say at least. Of course, a Pukwudgie there makes for anything you’d like here, special or not. You’d do particularly well in Slytherin, it seems... but it looks like you’ve made up your mind? Careful love, it isn’t too good to believe everything you hear. You’d be proud to be in any of our houses, I’d reckon! But, still? Are you sure? Well, okay —

Hufflepuff for the yankee!”

Maybe it was because she was clearly not a first-year and therefore more interesting, but (y/n) could have sworn Hufflepuff’s cheers were a bit louder than for those before her. Either way, she couldn’t help the wide smile that bloomed on her face as she rose from her seat. As she stood, her gaze landed squarely on two piercing grey eyes staring directly at her. Across from her was the Slytherin house, the house that she’d might have been part of in another life. Time seemed to have stood still in this split second, and she felt something stir in her chest. A small twang of regret? Or, guilt even?

But that was impossible, what would she be guilty of? And as her gaze landed on the lips underneath those eyes, which were now twisted into a familiar sneer, (y/n) promptly turned away and pranced over to her new home away from home.

Even if Slytherin had that handsome, rude boy, she was sure Hufflepuff had better in store for her.

Author’s Note: Leave a comment or an ask in order to be added to the tag list ☺️

[ayellowcurtain]

can we please please get another part of Elu ABO?????

This has a little bit of smut in it, be careful! 

After being used so many times, Lucas has a hard time understanding real feelings or intentions. He doesn’t smell any type of bad intentions on Eliott, but he still struggles to trust him. Why would Eliott care so much? They don’t even know each other. Eliott doesn’t owe Lucas anything, but he’s still at his door at least once a week, coming to visit, but also to check if Lucas needs anything, forcing him to go out with him and the kids to go play at the park near his house. Lucas never had a chance to go to the park because there’s no way he would go anywhere willingly with two crazy kids.

It starts to get even harder to see Eliott at his door every Friday afternoon when he feels his next heat creeping under his skin. Lucas is used to it by now, he knows how to...handle himself. It has always been like this so it’s okay, it’s not like it’s going to change because a hot alpha is constantly around him these days.

Lucas tries to pretend he and the kids are busy this Friday, that they’ll go to Yann’s for the night or something, but he knows Eliott can literally smell it. Even Margot and Noah are bothered by the change in his smell.

Eliott is at his door anyway after lunch like he always is, but Lucas tried to organize himself. If Margot or Noah saw Eliott, Lucas was ruined. They would be all over him instantly and Lucas wouldn’t have a chance to say no. There would be screams and cries for twenty four hours and he’s not risking it. 

So Margot and Noah are sitting inside their bedroom, the door locked so they won’t have a chance to escape and Lucas gave them a huge bowl of ice cream - which they aren’t always allowed to have - and watching Margot’s favorite movie: Hotel Transylvania.

“Hi…” Eliott frowns as Lucas steps outside, closing the door behind him, not even bothering to let go of the knob.

“Hey...I...I mean we can’t go out today. Noah is not feeling too good.”

“What? Is he okay? You want me to take him to the hospital? My car is just downstairs and-”

“No, Eliott, really. It’s okay. He just needs some rest, to stay in bed and eat and drink water. You know, rest a little.”

He squeezes the cold door handle tighter, trying to ignore how his inside clench at the thought of hurting Eliott’s feelings, of creating a distance between them.

Eliott looks at him throughout and something changes. His smell changes, heightened and Lucas straighten his posture, feeling like the walls are closing around him when nothing is really moving. Eliott looks down and nods his head, putting his hands on his fancy, black social pants that seem a little different than the usual skinny black jeans.

“Okay...I’ll see you guys next week then. Call me if you need anything…”

Lucas exhales as Eliott accepts his defeat, looking at Lucas for just a brief moment, turning on his feet and walking away, but Lucas waits a little before he moves, all his insides begging him to ask Eliott to stay.

“I can help you…” Eliott says out of nowhere, turning back around suddenly to look at Lucas. He’s not naked, but Lucas feels like he is. He hates that his smell was so strong to the point where Eliott couldn’t just fucking ignore it.

“No, you can’t. It’s okay, I can handle myself, it’s what I do best.”

“But you don’t have to do it now.” Eliott comes closer again and Lucas steps back on instinct and Eliott notices it or smells it, Lucas is not too sure.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Lucas. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

And the offer is so tempting. Lucas craves affection more than he’s willing to admit most of the time, but his feelings are not letting him be the strong lone omega he always is.

He thinks about his empty apartment, the kids inside their bedroom. He can be reckless for once, do whatever he feels like doing, without thinking about consequences.

“You should go…” Lucas says firmly and watches as Eliott sighs, looking down.

“Okay.”

-

Eliott should focus on this big, rich people party Lucille begged him to come as her plus one. He can’t stop thinking about Lucas, about his smell, how nice and grumpy he is. And how he didn’t want Eliott to stay.

Lucille walks back to their table, dancing a little as he gives him whatever alcoholic beverage she got them, her bright red, silky dress moving sensually against her long, skinny body. Lucille is so fucking pretty.

“I think my boss is trying to hit on me.” Eliott frowns, drinking the also red and very strong drink Lucille ordered for him.

“You mean generally or like right now, at your work party?”

Lucille continues to move her hips to the beat of the music, her slip dress leaving very little to the imagination.

“I mean right now, tonight. I was at the bar and he came to stand right next to me, we talked a little…” She wiggles her eyebrows like she does when she’s teasing Eliott about what he does constantly without noticing. 

He wiggles his eyebrows back at her, knowing she has made up her mind already. Lucille is not one to lead people on. She wants the guy, whoever he is.

“Well...make sure to get a promotion out of tonight then.”

“Oh, that would be so fucking good. Imagine: having sex with a hot guy and getting a promotion, all in one night, just because you had sex with the hot guy. Oof, that would be a good night.”

She finishes her drink in one go and Eliott watches, laughing as he takes his time with his drink.

“And what about you? And your hot guy…” She frowns and stops moving her hips, actually having to work hard to remember his name.

“Lucas.” Eliott does it for her and she smiles at him.

“Exactly! Lucas...how are things going?”

“He’s going into heat…” Just thinking about it makes Eliott’s skin get rough and sensitive. Lucille must smell it because she finally sits back on the stool she was sitting before the trip to the bar.

“Into heat you said?”

“Yes.”

“And...?”

“And what? I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“Did you pick me over him, mister Demaury?” Lucille is trying to make a joke, but they both know there’s also a hint of truth in it. 

They don’t love each other, not as lovers anymore, they’re just friends and they’ve been for years, but they both know they would have sex if they both were in desperate need of it. And if he said yes to her, even as a joke, Eliott knows their hormones would get a little too awake. But he doesn’t want to, Lucas is the only person he can see, that he can think about, that he wants.

“No. Of course not. He didn’t want me there, so I took a very cold shower and came to help a desperate friend in need.”

Lucille raises her eyebrows and nods her head, acting like she believes his words. Eliott waves his hand away.

“Come on, let’s go, chop-chop, go find your promotion. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Lucille doesn’t think twice, leaving Eliott alone, watching as Lucille adjusts her dress around her hips - making it just a little shorter - stopping at another table where a guy instantly stops talking to his friends, his eyes very focused on Lucille. 

This is going to be a long night, he thinks as he finally finishes his drink, thinking one it’s more than enough for tonight. Eliott knows his limits are paper thin so he’s constantly aware of his choices. As he’s about to get his phone, check if he didn’t get any messages, it starts buzzing on the inside pocket of his black suit. 

Eliott gets up from his stool, accepting the call as he tries to find somewhere quiet so he can hear Lucas.

“Lucas?” He says loudly over the now annoying music and there’s no actual answer, but Eliott stops as he finally finds an unlocked door, getting inside the bathroom and closing the door. He hears it instantly, lighting all his nerves like an electric wire. 

Him panting, moaning, breathing hard, and close to the phone. He hears the softest, whiniest noise, very low, but he would recognize his name coming from Lucas’ mouth any day.

Holy fucking shit.

“I’m on my way, okay?”

“...okay…” Another long, almost painful moan, “The door is open, kids are asleep, be fucking careful...”

Eliott hangs up and rushes out of the bathroom, not even bothering to look for Lucille to explain, not even waiting for the elevator, running downstairs to the parking lot where he left his car.

-

Eliott opens the door as carefully as his nerves and hormones let him, getting inside and locking the door, turning around, just one light turned on and Lucas walks out of that bedroom, stopping at the door like the most perfect wet dream. 

He takes a few, uncertain steps forward and Eliott rushes to him, not able to stop looking at his completely naked body, his blotchy pale skin with reddish-pink stains appearing everywhere as he’s overheating.

“You can’t be here when they wake up,” Lucas whispers when they’re so close, resting their foreheads together.

“I won’t be.” Eliott nods his head, already putting his hand on Lucas’ side, letting the boy jump to his lap as Eliott takes them back inside the bedroom, closing and locking another door.

-

“Fuck! They’re awake…” Lucas can’t help but contract himself, not ready to be empty again and Eliott grunts, resting his forehead against Lucas’ chest.

“Lucas...fuck!…” He keeps his pace with slow, deep trusts, and Lucas arches his back, his underwear bothering him, hanging around one of his feet. 

They tried stopping a few hours ago, took a calm, intimate shower with long gazes and not much touching or talking, and Lucas even tried to put his clothes back on, but that didn’t last.

He presses his fingers on the small of Eliott’s back, keeping him inside. Eliott still looks him in that way he did the first time they met where Lucas’ brain goes blank and Eliott crashes into them, another heated, long kiss to keep them quiet, picking up the pace.

There’s a constant knock on the door when Lucas comes back from his high, his back still arched, still contracting to keep Eliott inside.

“Shit…” Lucas slowly gets the control over his body again, relaxing his body and whining and Eliott carefully slips out, lying next to Lucas.

He rolls out of bed, having to focus completely on making his legs work enough to keep him standing, leaning against the door, hoping he doesn’t have anything on his face as he opens the door just enough for Margot to see half of his face.

“I’m late, okay? I’m going to take a shower, you go back to bed and I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

Margot still needs to learn how to behave herself. She’s barely listening to Lucas, her eyebrows meeting in the middle of her forehead, creating the biggest wrinkle and she’s just smelling.

“Is Eliott there?”

“Margot. To your room, right now. I’ll call you when you can get out.” He has to snap his fingers for her to blink, aware of her surroundings again, not just whatever smell she’s smelling. And she’s finally walking away, clearly not convinced, but she knows better.

-

Lucas rushes out of the shower, putting some sweatpants on and Eliott is still in his bed, looking so tempting, still very much naked under the sheets. He needs a shower too, Lucas wishes he could go with him, but Margot is probably impatient already.

“You stay here, ok? Take a shower if you want, I’m gonna go give them something to eat and a bath and then you can leave.”

“Okay…”

-

The apartment is quiet, Lucas is finally alone with himself. Both the kids are fed, tired after playing, running around the apartment the whole day, sleeping in their own beds.

Every muscle in his body aches and a long night of sleep sounds impossible but so good. He finally lets himself think about Eliott, about him in his bed, with Lucas, all day long. Lucas would never have the courage, but he wishes he had asked Eliott to stay while he was busy with the kids. 

Just thinking about his touch and Eliott calling his name makes him shudder as he walks to his bedroom, hating the thought of still having to change his sheets, put them to wash, put a clean one on his bed. By the time he’s done with all of that, Margot will probably be awake again, dragging Noah with her to Lucas’ bed to sleep with him.

He sighs and opens his bedroom door, stopping right away. His bed is made, clean sheets and all and he looks back, just then hearing the washing machine working hard like it always does when it’s on.

Lucas rests against his door, closing his eyes. He drags himself inside, already feeling so relaxed with the thought of Eliott there, cleaning his bedroom, putting his things to wash. Lucas pushes the blankets to get underneath when he finds something underneath his pillow, a black thing slipping out and Lucas grabs it, carefully pulling out and he’s hit instantly with the smell.

He smells so homey…

Lucas buries his nose against the clearly worn-out shirt. Honey, softener, Eliott. He takes his shirt off, still a little damp from the bubble war Margot and Noah had and he puts Eliott’s shirt on. it might be his mind, but the shirt still feels warm and soft. Lucas pulls it to cover his nose and mouth and he’s out.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Fe3h exchange, for Mymhilda, who wanted some Sylvigrid! I had fun with parallels in this one.

…

…

…

…

Sylvain knew many words that described Ingrid: stubborn, nagging, glutton, strict, determined. The one word he wouldn’t use, however, was weak. Especially not now, in the middle of the training field after she’d knocked him on his ass. His back and butt ached as he lay there sprawled, staring up at the bright blue sky, and couldn’t for the life of him figure out how he’d ended up there.

 Despite being two years older than her, his skills were nowhere on par with hers. He wasn’t even sure he saw her move. Sylvain blinked, getting his bearings. A sharp blade pressed against his throat and he blinked again before realizing Ingrid was standing in front of him now, a smug smile on her lips.

 “Yield?” she asked cockily. There was something different about her in the training ground, something feral and alive.

She looked beautiful, actually, but Sylvain knew better than to say that when she still had her lance against his throat. “Definitely,” he agreed, letting go of his blade and holding his hands up. “Your win.”

 Ingrid yanked her lance back, replacing it with a hand. “Alright, get up before we have to wash your clothes.”

 “I think it’s too late,” he replied dryly. There were a few nicks and scrapes here and there, and after a hard landing like that dirt caked his shirt. He slipped his hand into hers, letting her yank him up. “Though if you wanted to get me out of my clothes, you could have just asked.”

 He almost toppled over when she let go of him. Giving him a disgruntled look, she rested her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Seriously, Sylvain?”

 “I kid, I kid.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I won’t do it again.”

 “Like I can believe that.” She snorted, shaking her head. “How many losses is that now, Sylvain?”

 “Uh…” Sylvain smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t have to know the answer to know where she was taking this. “Honestly, who keeps track of that?”

 “Sylvain, you’ve won only a handful of times! You should at least tie with me.” She groaned, exasperated. Ingrid’s posture was always ramrod straight, but it seemed he was testing that. Leaning against her spear, she glared at him. “You need to train more.”

 “Now, you’re sounding like Felix,” he retorted, stretching an arm over his head. Honestly, why were all of his friends such stick-in-the-muds?

 “That’s because he’s right.” Ingrid sighed once more. Slowly, she approached him, her words soft but firm. “Sylvain, you need to take this seriously. Otherwise, you might get hurt.”

 He didn’t need to ask to know who she was thinking of, to guess why her eyes were downcast and her skin pale. Reaching forward, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. “It’ll be fine. I’m more likely to die in someone else’s bed than the battlefield.”

 “Sylvain.”

 Sylvain chuckled at her tone. “Sorry, just a joke, but seriously. Dimitri’s strong enough to protect himself and even if he wasn’t, you’re his spear and Felix his shield. I don’t need to get any stronger than this.”

 Not convinced, Ingrid snorted and yanked her hand free. “Why not? What’re you going to do on the battlefield—run?”

 “Well, that isn’t a bad choice, but I’m not made for the battlefield.” Sylvain shrugged, lacing his hands behind his head. “I’m just here to keep the stick from going too far up your butts.”

 Ingrid’s lance was at his throat before he could laugh, her glare capable of cutting entire battalions. She looked fetching, red from anger, but he’d never tell her that.

 “This proves my point!” he said instead, stepping back and out of her reach. “You all need to learn to lighten up.”

 “And you need to grow stronger.” Ingrid shook her head, but he could hear the defeated tone in her voice, the sound that marked she’d given up on convincing him today. The lecture was over. “Like you said, we’re protecting Dimitri—so who’s going to protect you?”

 -x-

 There were many words Sylvain could call Ingrid: beautiful, noble, protective, kind. The one leaving his lips now was, “Moron.”

 Cradling Ingrid’s wounded body in his arms, Sylvain urged his horse to run faster. The battlefield was uneven and he could feel every bumpy as they raced across the field to the rear forces. Ingrid shuddered at each hole in the road, the slight bounce jarring her injury. His hands were warm with her blood, but he tried not to think of that as he hunched over her, shielding her from any stray arrows or magic attacks.

 Instead, he repeated harshly, “Moron.” He wanted the word to drum into, to imprint on her bones so she’d never do such a stupid thing ever again. Suddenly, he understood why Felix was such a prickly cat sometimes. Maybe if he’d done it too, this would never have happened in the first place.

 “’m not a moron,” she weakly retorted, her words slurring slightly.

 Sylvain clenched his teeth. “Don’t talk, moron.”

 She was losing too much blood. His clothes were wet from it. Tightening his grip on the reins, he quickly glanced down at her stomach. He’d cut off as much of the spear as he could, leaving only the blade and the stump of the handle in place. That had to keep some of her blood inside of her—all she had to do was make it to Mercedes alive.

 If he could get there fast enough, they could laugh over this tomorrow.  

 “’ou okay?” she asked, her breathing laboured.  Her eyes were trained on his.

 When she looked at him like that, he could almost believe that she’d make it through this. He swallowed, his voice thick. “You’re asking me that, seriously? I’m fine. Perfectly fine!” His voice rose, anger building. “Why’d you do that?”

 It had been his mistake. A lance aimed his way, his body too slow to react. Every warning from Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid over the years had run through his mind, telling him in no uncertain terms that it was his fault he was going to die.

 And then his beautiful, noble, stupid Ingrid had pushed him to the side, taking the blow instead.

 “Didn’t you say no one would protect me?” His voice cracked, no more than a whisper.

 Still, she heard. She always did. Laughing wetly, she shook her head. “’ow who’s th’ moron? Like I’d leave you.”

 And that was what made her a moron. She shouldn’t have protected him. He could live with dying, but he couldn’t live if he’d killed her. Sylvain clutched her tighter, his fingers digging into her arms. Voice hoarse, he growled, “You better not.”

 Sylvain had never been known for keeping promises, but that was fine. Ingrid always kept hers. And she wasn’t going to leave him, not now, not like this. Squeezing his thighs, he urged his horse to speed up.

 Ingrid would live, even if Sylvain had to drag her out of heaven himself.

[justheretobreakthings]

Kings Over Aces - Chapter 3

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Word Count: 3,041 (Total Word Count: 9,331) Read on AO3

Story Summary:

The Voltron Coalition has an alliance in the works with the resource-rich planet of Yuipra, and it’s the paladins’ job to keep on the king’s good side while the deal is made. That shouldn’t shouldn’t be too great a challenge; after all, they’ve courted plenty of planets before for the sake of alliances.

Unfortunately, things are made much more complicated when the king takes a special interest in Keith.

Fic content warnings for attempted rape/non-con.

“Keith, elbows off - ”

“I know, I know,” Keith growled, moving his arms off the table. “You only told me a thousand times.”

Allura huffed. “If you hadn’t put your elbows on the table a thousand times, I wouldn’t have had to tell you a thousand times!”

“Well, what am I supposed to do with arms, then?” Keith snapped. “I can’t use cutlery if I’m worried about my elbows the whole time!”

“All right, look,” said Shiro, leaning in to give his input. “I think the table etiquette crash course is just stressing all of us out. Why don’t we move on to conversation topics?”

“Yes, yes, fine,” Allura sighed. “That would probably be best. Here, move the silverware out of the way, we don’t want you fidgeting with anything.”

“I still don’t know what to do with my arms,” Keith said.

“We could hold hands,” Coran suggested.

“No.”

Coran just shrugged, leaning back into his chair with an expression that seemed to say, your loss.

More and more as this ‘training’ went on, Keith was beginning to deeply regret agreeing to it. His jaw was sore after the half varga he’d spent in front of a mirror practicing smiling and not having what Lance had called ‘resting serial killer face’, and he was pretty sure his face was going to be permanently red from the crash course he’d been given on giving and receiving compliments. He’d certainly never be able to look Coran in the eyes ever again. The advisor had been chosen to act as Olren for the sake of the practice date, a decision that had been reached based on the fact that he and Lance were the only ones on the team with any sort of acting ability, which they had somehow decided would be helpful for ‘immersion’, and Lance had stated in no uncertain terms that he would much rather jump out of the airlock than be Keith’s fake date.

So, here he was, on a practice date with Coran, during what had to be the longest and most embarrassing afternoon of Keith’s entire life.

As Keith shoved his silverware out of the way, Shiro looked thoughtfully between the two of them. “You know, it actually wouldn’t be a bad idea to practice that,” he said. “You’ve been getting better with physical contact lately, haven’t you, Keith?”

Keith stiffened. “Um… with people I know, yeah. I don’t know Olren.”

“It would probably be best, though,” Allura said. “You don’t have to go out of your way to get physical, of course, I’m not suggesting that. But if he initiates some very light physical contact, like hand holding, or an arm on your shoulder, things of that sort, it would be good to practice accepting it without showing clear tension. We want to avoid offending him.”

Keith managed to stop himself from commenting on that - remarking that they want to avoid offending him, he wants to just avoid this date altogether - and instead grunted out, “Fine.” He shoved his hand out to take Coran’s.

“Damn, get a room, you two,” Lance called from across the kitchen. He, Hunk, and Pidge had stationed themselves at the counter, snacking as they acted as the audience for the practice date at the dining table. With his free hand, Keith flipped him off.

“Lance,” said Shiro, “If you’re not going to contribute useful critique, please keep it down so Keith can concentrate. Keith, you’re tensing up, try rolling your shoulder.”

Keith did so, trying to ignore the awkwardness of his posture and how bizarre it felt to have fingers intertwined with his own. “All right, what now?”

“We’re going to be reviewing some topics of conversation,” Allura said as she pulled out a seat opposite him and Coran and settled into it. “Now, I know you’re not much of a talker, so our goal for your dinner date will be keeping up conversational momentum without necessarily needing you to make a lot of contribution. When you can, try to direct Olren toward answering open-ended questions. That will make you seem sufficiently engaged while putting the onus of elaboration on him, you understand?”

“Uh,” said Keith. “Sure?”

“Excellent. We’ll start with a few practice rounds in that area, and then we can move on to naturally bringing up the Coalition’s merits. Coran, begin.”

“So,” Coran said in a close approximation of a Yuipran accent, and Keith grimaced as he met his gaze. “Let’s talk about your swordfighting. I would so love to get to watch you swordfight some time. It must be terribly exciting.”

“Um, yeah,” Keith said. “It is.” In the pause that followed, Allura made a go on gesture, and Keith cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s… challenging? I have to practice a lot. It - it, um… I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say here.”

“Ask a question,” Allura said.

“Oh, right. Uh, do you swordfight?”

“An open-ended question, Keith. That was a yes-or-no question.”

Keith took a moment to think before asking, “When was your last swordfight?”

“Oh my God, this is just sad,” Lance groaned.

“Keith, you’re tensing up again,” said Shiro. “Take a deep breath, unclench your jaw.”

“I’m not clenching my jaw,” Keith grunted.

“Yes, you are, try relaxing your chin.”

“Like we showed you earlier, Keith,” said Allura. “Smile with your eyes.”

“I can’t - ”

“Come now, lad,” said Coran. “You can relax around your lover of the evening, can’t you?” He made a simpering expression and batted his eyelashes, and a muffled snickering rose from over near the counter.

“Okay, I’m done,” Keith said, dropping Coran’s hand and shoving his chair back from the table. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Whoa, Keith,” Shiro said, hurrying to grab the chair as Keith stood and nearly tipped it back onto the floor.

Coran’s coy expression dropped to a frown. “Apologies, Number Four,” he said. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was only trying to lighten the mood, make a little joke.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t a joke for me,” Keith snapped. “And it’s not funny,” he added, gaze swiveling toward the counter where Lance was making a point to stare intently at his food rather than at Keith.

“Keith, it’s all right,” Allura said. “We’re not making fun. I know, it’s awkward, it’s uncomfortable. But we can’t very well stop. You need to know how to handle this sort of event.”

“Should we at least take a break?” Hunk piped up. “You know, uh, let things air out a bit before we go back to practicing?”

“Yes, yes, that makes sense,” Allura said with an emphatic nod. “We can take half a varga to cool down, then reconvene and try this again. We still have much to cover before your date.”

“Should we go over some common courtship activities with him?” Coran asked. “Dances, parlor games, some Yuipran fine arts? The nobility has quite a fondness for all of them.”

“I was thinking we would cover those tomorrow morning,” said Allura, “And reserve the afternoon for review. Do you think it will be enough?”

Keith let out a groan and hid his face in his hands. “I’m never gonna be able to learn all this,” he said.

Allura sighed. “Look, Keith, we don’t have much of a choice. We only have until tomorrow evening to ensure you make the best impression possible and, to be perfectly frank, you’re coming into this rather, er, clueless.”

“I don’t even think this is all going to stick,” Keith said. “All it’s doing is stressing me out even more, and I’m already pretty goddamn stressed about this whole thing!”

“You’re a fast learner, Keith,” Shiro said. “You’ll get it. You always got great test scores at the Garrison, and those classes were certainly a lot tougher than a dating crash course.”

“Yeah, but they’re classes about space and flying. You know, stuff I actually like. This is just torture.”

“It’s a far cry from torture,” Allura said, face falling into a stern frown. “Keith, I’m sorry, but this isn’t about enjoyability or comfort or anything of the sort. This is simply a necessary evil. We’re trying to help you navigate the evening as smoothly as possible, and you need to be receptive to what we’re telling you here. You’re not going to learn it otherwise.”

“I know,” Keith sighed. “I know that.”

“And you need to get this down to memory if you’re going to successfully get through the date without us being around to remind you of every step. We can’t very well be sitting at your side giving you the pointers you need when the actual date comes along.”

Keith nodded, finally lowering his hands and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I know. Fine.”

“Um,” Pidge said, lifting a hand. “Just a minute, can I ask something?”

“What is it, Pidge?” Shiro asked.

“Why can’t you actually do that? Walk him through the date while it happens, I mean?”

“King Olren requested a private dinner with Keith,” Allura answered. “We can’t accompany him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pidge said. “That’s not what I’m suggesting. I’m saying, we’ve got comm tech here, don’t we? Microphones and earpieces and cameras and all that. If Keith’s having such a tough time getting a hang of all this dating stuff, why not just rig him up with some of that stuff so we can watch him from the Castle and you can tell him what to do or say? It’d probably be easier, wouldn’t it?”

Several ticks of silence reigned as they took that in. “That… actually makes sense,” Allura said.

“They do that sort of thing all the time in, like, sitcoms,” Lance said. “I mean, usually in those shows there’s, like, interference from a police blotter or shock rock deejay or something for comedy, but we’ve got much better tech than they do. Probably wouldn’t be a problem.”

“So, hang on,” Keith said slowly. “You guys are all going to be watching me go on a date?”

“And listening, apparently,” Hunk said.

“I - I don’t know,” Keith said. “This just seems kinda creepy.”

“What, because everything else about this isn’t creepy?” Pidge said with a raised brow.

“Pidge, it’s not creepy,” Allura said. “Olren simply wants to get to know one of the paladins of Voltron to see that we’re suitable allies on a personal level, not just political. I wouldn’t consider that creepy.”

“Ehhhhh, it’s kinda creepy,” Hunk admitted.

Keith nodded toward him. “Yes, thank you.”

“Damn, man, give us some credit,” said Lance. “We’re not voyeurs or anything. We’d just be helping out.”

“It does seem like a sensible option,” Allura said. “Especially considering that our only alternate is to continue this date night training, and you certainly seem quite opposed to that.”

“And, well,” said Pidge. “My logic is, if you do it this way, we’ll be able to help out a bit if anything goes wrong, walk you through anything unexpected. That’s gotta be better than going it alone, right?”

Keith bit at his lip. She definitely had a point. Holding back a sigh, he finally relented. “All right, that’s fair. I guess, um, Pidge’s plan it is.”

------------------------------------

The quintant passed quickly, all too quickly for Keith’s liking, but at least now the day wasn’t spent practicing for the dreaded evening. Instead, the following afternoon, he was presented with the gear he’d need for the others to walk him through the date, and that was certainly the preferable route.

The formalwear that Allura had picked out from him wasn’t exactly comfortable. The red tunic-like top squeezed his forearms at the cuffs of its sleeves, had too high a collar, and the material itched. He didn’t have much choice in the matter, though. The outfit was chosen not for its comfort level, or even for whether it was flattering on him. Instead, it was selected because of the design stretched along the top from one shoulderblade to the other: a smattering of round, black beads that easily hid the fisheye camera lens that Pidge and Coran attached to garment, in addition to a dark stitching on the collar that camouflaged the microphone. The two of them were left in charge of readying him in his room.

“Let’s go ahead and test it to make sure the signal is coming through clearly,” Pidge said as she and Coran finished adjusting the microphone and handing him the earpiece. “I’ll head over to the bridge with the others, we’ll just try talking to each other through it real quick.”

“Sure,” Keith said.

“Don’t figure I’ll be doing any of the advice part,” she said. “Believe me, I’m just as clueless as you in that field. But I’ll be sure to, like, throw some motivational catchlines your way or something when you need them. Better than nothing.”

“Right, yeah,” Keith said. Pidge nodded before moving to the door and out of sight, and Keith returned the nod as he took the hem of the tunic in his fists to try adjusting it.

Coran batted his hand away. “No need to tug at it, Keith.”

“It’s uneven,” Keith said.

“It’s supposed to be slanted that way, it’s traditional.”

Keith scowled. “It feels weird.”

“Well - ”

“Look, I’m already going to be uncomfortable enough tonight as it is, Coran. At the very goddamn least, can’t I just wear something that’s not lopsided?”

Coran’s lips pressed into a thin line, but to Keith’s relief, he nodded. “Fair point, Number Four. I can try a quick fix for you, even it out a bit.”

“Thanks,” Keith sighed. As Coran moved to adjust the tunic, Keith added, “Um, sorry, didn’t mean to snap.”

“Ah, no apology needed, lad,” Coran said. “Perfectly understandable for you to be feeling a mite on edge. Just know, your team’s going to be right alongside you all the while. This will likely be an awkward evening, but hopefully us all going through the awkwardness together will be helpful, yes?”

“Yeah, hopefully,” Keith said.

At that moment, a click sounded through the earpiece, and a booming voice followed. “KEITH? CAN YOU HEAR US?”

“Shit!” Keith yelped, slapping his hand over his hear. “How do I turn it down?!”

“SORRY, ONE MOMENT.” There was a pause, then the voice resumed, at a much more bearable volume. “Better?” Now that it was quieter, Keith could identify the voice as Allura’s.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “Better.”

“Excellent. Your voice is coming through just fine, and we’re getting a clear picture from the camera.”

“Can you ask Coran to tilt it up a little bit?” Pidge’s voice asked. “Olren’s taller than you, and we’re gonna want to be able to see his face.”

“Sure,” Keith said. He passed the message along to Coran, and as the advisor made the adjustments, he asked, “So, are all of you there watching?”

“Yes, we’re all here,” Shiro said, and in the background Hunk called, “Hi, Keith!”

“Even Lance?” Keith asked. “He won’t be any help, he already crashed and burned with this guy.”

“Hey,” Lance snapped. “Which of the two of us has actually been on an actual date before?”

“Keith’s sort of been on a date with Coran,” Pidge said.

“That one million percent does not count,” said Lance.

“Whatever,” said Keith. “Just be sure to actually help, okay? None of your weird joke advice.”

“We’re all going to take this perfectly seriously, Keith,” said Shiro. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Well, that was untrue, but Keith let it slide.

“That hem feeling better now, Keith?” Coran asked.

Keith nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

Coran smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You should be ready to go, then. I’ll go ahead and join the others in the bridge, you ought to get to Black and start along to your date.”

Keith nodded again, silently this time so as not to let the little bubbles of nausea that had just begun to bubble up in his throat get anywhere. With one last encouraging pat, Coran took off, and Keith followed out the door, heading the opposite way to the hangar.

For once, Keith was thankful to not have Red’s old breakneck speed on his side, since it made the short flight down from the Castle to Yuipra just a little bit longer, gave him just a little more time to put off the inevitable. All the way down, the other paladins chattered in his ear, giving him words of encouragement or bits of last minute advice.

“You got this, Keith,” Hunk said. “Just a few hours and you’ll never have to go on a date again.”

“I know,” Keith said.

“Remember to keep your face relaxed, and keep up a smile,” Allura said.

“I know.”

“We won’t be able to see your face from the camera, so it’s up to you to remember that part, yes?”

“I know.”

“Is it too late for you to pull over somewhere and get a decent haircut before the date starts?”

“Fuck off, Lance.”

“Language, Keith.”

“I know.”

All too soon, he was landing, stepping off the ramp that descended from Black’s jaw, and heading up toward the front steps of the palace. Four of the ever-present golden guards were stationed at the entryway, and as Keith approached, they all bowed slightly, and two moved to pull open the hulking front doors. One of the others came up to him. “Paladin,” he said.

“Yeah,” Keith replied.

“You are expected. I will be glad to escort you to his majesty’s private dining room.”

“No need,” a familiar voice said. Keith peered through the opened doors and into the grand foyer of the palace, where two sweeping flights of stairs descended, each lined in golden sconces that brightened the room and left reflections dancing off the polished walls and floor. And moving gracefully down the stairs was the king himself dressed in a different ensemble than yesterday’s feast, but still just as opulent, still topped by that gaudy crown. His mouth stretched wide in a shark-like smile as he approached. “I’d be more than delighted to escort him myself.”

The guard stepped back, and Keith took a deep breath as he mustered up his own smile in return.

There was no turning back now.

[mlpdestinyverse]

“First Day”

Feat.  Astral Dusk, Terra Rosa

First day of high school at Canterlot High and Astral Dusk meets a few… interesting characters. Some more familiar than others.

Story and Description Under The Cut (this is a long one!)

-Astral Dusk sits awkwardly within the foyer of Princess Twilight’s castle. His eyes drift from one mare’s face to the other as both his mother and the princess stand shoulder to shoulder, giddily peering into the screen of a camera- Sunset Shimmer: Okay, now turn your head a liiittle to the left… Astral Dusk: *sighs and shakes his head to himself, following her directions for the umpteenth time with a smile* You know mom, if I didn’t know any better, I’d really think I was graduating instead of heading off for my first day. Twilight Sparkle: *giggles* I’d think the first day of high school is equally as much of a big deal, Astral! Sunset: Aaand done~ *clicks one more picture and smiles at her son, trotting forward to close the distance* ‘Course it is! This is going to be a whole new chapter of your life, buddy! Astral: *rubs his foreleg, or at least the sleeve of the leather jacket pulled around his form* Right… Twilight: By the way Astral, you look absolutely dashing in your jacket! *grins at Sunset* Reminds me of another pony back in the day~ Sunset: *gives her son a lookover, a soft glimmer of pride in her teal eyes* Yeah…good times. *ever so slightly adjusts the collar of his jacket with her magic, earning a chuckle from him* Now, are you sure you already brought everything you’ll need to Terra’s house? Not that I mind running over to drop something off, but you know. Astral: *smiles* I’m fine, mom. My room’s already set up and everything, down to the bedsheet covers. Twilight: *nudges her friend* Relax, Sunset, we both know everything’s set and ready *lifts her head proudly* Two Twilights planning arrangements is even better than one if I do say so myself~ Sunset: *chuckles and playfully shoulders her friend* Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head, Twi. Astral: *adjusts his posture and dips his head deeply* Thank you again for letting me transfer to Canterlot High, princess. *straightens up, appearing determined* I promise I’ll learn as much as I can about friendship there. I’ll always appreciate being able to complete my education alongside Terra, and I won’t take your kindness for granted- Twilight: *laughs* Geez, Astral, don’t be so serious about it! *places a hoof on his shoulder, smiling gently* You’re a responsible colt, one I trust wholeheartedly. But please don’t forget to have fun, too! Laughter is a very important part of friendship and harmony! *pats him* I’m sure having Terra around will make that part pretty easy~ Astral: *smiles gratefully* Yeah. You’re not wrong about that. Twilight: So! Would you like us to walk with you to the mirror? Would that help with the nerves? Astral: *winces, realizing how obvious his stiffness must be* N-no, I can make the journey by myself. Thank you, princess. Twilight: Alright! Well I wish you all the luck, Astral! -As Astral watches Twilight head up her staircase, more than likely heading to her throne room, he feels the slightest shift of his bangs and realizes his mother’s magic brushing his hair to the side. Face-to-face, a gentle look full of warmth greets him.- Sunset: You’re going to do great…even if things get hard, remember that you have me, Terra, Timber and both Twilights behind you, as well as all the potential friends just waiting to meet you. And I’ll always be a single written message away. All you have to do is ask Twi to write it. Astral: *lowers his gaze and nods softly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding* …I just hope I won’t…you know. Give myself away. Sunset: *chuckles, eyes crinkling in amusement* Well Astral, you’ve only ever had seven years to get the gist of being human. But I’m pretty sure you’ll be okay, pal. *leans up to peck the side of his head. Pulling back she grasps his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye* Hey…I know you can’t help feeling nervous around your own peers, but I promise you. Be you, and once you find the right friends, even if it’s just a few, things will be that much more bearable. And if anyone gives you grief… *darkly stares off into the distance* …well, I’ll end them. Astral: *laughs and leans his head down to rest it against his mother’s* Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll do my best. Sunset: *smiles and pulls him into a full embrace* I mean you’re my kid. I know you will. Astral: *pulls away, sharing one last smile before he turns towards a nearby hallway.* Well…here I go. I’ll um…see you this Saturday, mom. Sunset: Yep! See you, buddy! -With that, Astral and Sunset both set off, his mother following Twilight up the staircase while he starts down the hallway. The crystal walls that make up the castle’s great halls gently echo the colt’s hoof clacks, breaking the eerie early morning silence. Upon turning a corner, Astral comes to realize there is a faint second series of hoof clacks up ahead. From a different adjacent hallway further up the hall, a small form turns their own corner. It takes everything in Astral not to curse and turn the opposite direction when he recognizes the form’s purple coat and the gradient of midnight blue, red, and orange in their mane. Astral eyes Prince Nova Spark as the younger colt obliviously walks in his direction on the opposite side of the hall, a book floating in front of his face within the grasp of magenta magic. As much as Astral tries to avert his eyes and focus forward on his own path, his pupils betray him and continuously flicker towards the other colt. Nova, fully adorned with his blue royal attire accented by shimmering silver designs and a white cravat, appears unaware of his surroundings. His expression is oddly tired and tense as his deep blue eyes scan the pages of what appears to be a book on arcana. It isn’t until the two colts are a few tail lengths away from one another that the prince’s ear twitches and Nova calmly peers up. The colt’s eyes blow open suddenly, a sharp snort of laughter escaping him before he lifts the book up higher to obscure his face. But the sound of muffled snickers and the shaking of Nova’s shoulders isn’t lost on Astral. And though he knows it’d be best to simply ignore the colt…- Astral: *stops in place before Nova can pass him, narrowing his eyes* What’s so funny, prince? Nova Spark: *a fit of laughter echoes from behind his book, and lowering it, the disbelieving, cheeky grin Nova wears greatly contrasts his demeanor from moments ago* L-leather? On you? Dude, come on! *ignores Astral’s pointed glare as another fit of laughter hits him, wiping away a tear* W-what, did you lose the rest of your clothes in a dumpster fire? Who approved this?? Astral: *feels his face grow hot, uncertain whether from self-consciousness or anger* I can wear what I want, Nova. Nova: Yeah yeah, sure, but just imagine it! *stands up straight, voice robotic and expression serious; his way of mimicking Astral, no doubt*Greetings fellow humans. I am not a pony in disguise, but your everyday leather-wearing bad boy. By the way, wanna see my rock collection? Astral: *jaw shifts stiffly* …incredible how even after years of “royal training”, you’re still just as impudent. *glares* Congratulations on being nowhere close to your own mother’s level of decorum after all this time. I’m sure she’s proud. Nova: *stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. A few beats later he glares back haughtily* G-geez, it was just a joke, genius! *huffs, snapping his head away and bringing his book back up indifferently* Whatever. Hope you manage to find a sense of humor on the other side. Good luck with that. -Seeing Nova trot off and round the corner, Astral rolls his eyes and heaves out a sigh. Despite the sliver of self-doubt threatening to rise up again, the colt fights it down, refusing to let the prince’s words ruin what should be an exciting morning. He travels the rest of the distance to his proper destination, and there, he spots a unicorn guard standing outside of the door. Noticing his approach, the guard opens the door with his magic aura and salutes him- Guard: Greetings, Sir Astral! I have been assigned by Princess Twilight to tend to this room and the opening and closing of the portal for the duration of your dimensional travels. She informed me that the journal you possess will serve as the key. Astral: Ah, yes sir. Here. -Astral reaches into his teal and brown saddlebag to pull out his magical brown journal, one with his own cutie mark displayed on the front. As he passes the journal over and steps into the room, the guard following behind him, there’s an uncomfortable twinge to his stomach at the thought of leaving such a personal belonging behind with a stranger. But if he had to trust anyone with it, one of Princess Twilight’s trained guards would be on the list. And with the cellphone his mother had gifted him, he knew he wouldn’t have a need for his journal outside of his visits back home anyway. To the colt, it was a shame the princess couldn’t conjure up a third set of books or another pair of magical objects to create a connection between the portals, but he’s become all too aware of Twilight’s wariness in recreating too much of a magical influx between the dimensions. On the other side of the room, the complex construction that empowers the Crystal Mirror towers over the two ponies. Without pause, the guard lifts the journal up with his magic and places it in its proper pedestal high above the mirror. With a luminous glow, the cutie mark decorating its cover shoots out a series of purple electrical sparks. A familiar sight, the streams of energy seem to erratically course through the contraption before shooting into the mirror, activating it as the glass’s surface swirls with magical energy. Anticipation pushing him forward, Astral murmurs a quick thanks towards the guard and steels himself. He steps through the portal, and for a moment, he feels like he’s walking on air within a swirling void of colors. He vaguely notices his form reshaping itself and adjusts his stance to balance himself. Within seconds he then finds himself pushing through a thin barrier, and what was once a void of distorted sound and swirls gives way to a peaceful silence. Blinking his eyes, Astral takes in the faint blue sky above him and the faint pastels beginning to peek through the distance, casting shadows all around him. As planned, arriving as early as he did meant entering the quiet, empty courtyard of Canterlot High. Well, almost empty- ???: DUUUUSKKYYYY- Astral: *wheezes as he’s suddenly side-tackled to the ground. Locating the source, he finds a familiar shade of purple and green hair at the corner of his vision right beside his head. The next thing he processes are the girl’s arms wrapped around his neck, her legs interlaced with his yet blissfully kicking behind her* T-Terra! Geez! *can’t help a laugh, pushing himself up on an elbow* Maybe warn a guy next time…I thought I was supposed to be standing on two feet here. Terra: *pulls back to grin into his face* Where’s the fun in that~? *hops to her feet and uses both hands to pull Astral back up. Dusting off his jacket she smirks* Well heckin dang, sir, you sure brought your A-game! Astral: *feels his cheeks heat up for the second time and groans* Terra, don’t tease me… Terra: *grins wider* Aww, but I like it when you get all embarrassed! -Astral prepares a counter, but then notices a shift in movement behind Terra. An unseen figure until then is leaning their shoulder against the corner of the statue-portal, staring stunned in their direction. Feeling himself go rigid, Astral instinctively grabs Terra’s shoulder tightly, dread clawing at him. His reaction seems to startle the gawking dark-haired human, causing them to jerk back- Astral: *squeezes Terra’s shoulder, the fright of being discovered so soon taking him* Terra… Terra: *whips around with great confusion and apprehension, then jumps in realization* OH! Oh nonono! *turns back to Astral and frantically waves her hands* Dusky, it’s okay! This is my friend Monochrome! They know all about this! Astral: *brows knit in recognition, and looking closely, he recognizes the curve of the teen’s green eyes and the tied up white-and-gray streaked hair; an appearance shared by his sister’s own friend* Monochrome…? Monochrome: *holds up hands, frowning* I’m so sorry for scaring you. I really should have said something. I just…*glances over at the tall, flat surface of the statue’s pedestal beside them* …my mom told me things, but I don’t think I was actually prepared to see it in person.   Astral: *eyebrows shoot up* “Told you”? My mom and her friends agreed to keep the portal a secret. Monochrome: *rubs their wrist* Yeah well, if you know anything about my mom Rainbow Dash, you can probably imagine her accidentally letting some details slip. *glances at Terra, the corner of their mouth quirking up* I actually would have thought she was making it up, but Terra’s presentation when we were kids only corroborated the story. Astral: *pauses, then blankly turns to his friend* …you mean that one class presentation you made about Equestria? Terra: *laughs nervously, taking a step back* Y-you mean about my bestie and Equestria? Y-yep! The very one! G-guess I forgot to tell you that one of my friends actually believed me! Craaazy, right?? Astral: …*sighs deeply and lowers his head* Terra: (!!!) H-HEY MAN, I was seven! I didn’t realize it was that big of a secret! *crosses arms and pouts* And our teacher ended up misunderstanding the whole thing anyway, and I got an A for creativity, AND we have a solid backup story for you because of it, so it worked out! Astral: *rubs forehead* It’s fine, Terra… *brushes the same hand back through his hair, remeeting Monochrome’s gaze* Well, you’re family with one of my mom’s friends, and you’re friends with Terra. So…if anyone had to know, it probably should be you. Terra: Yep yep! But let’s not forget official introductions! *noisily clears throat, lifting a presenting hand* Monochrome Dashielle, this is Astral Dusk! *eagerly motions towards Monochrome* Astral Dusk, this is Monochrome Dashielle, one of my best friends that I’ve known since preschool! *counts off her fingers* Also known as Mo, Momo, Chrome, Chromey, Dashie- *folds hands behind her back and leans over, fluttering her eyelashes up at Monochrome* But I just call 'em Ellie, cause it’s cute just like them~ Monochrome: *shakes head fondly, lightly nudging their friend* Not as cute as “Terri Rosie”. Astral: *eyes light up with recognition* So YOU’RE Ellie…Terra brought up your name throughout the years. *rubs neck* All uh, good things of course. Monochrome: *crosses their arms and smiles at Terra* Is that right? Terra: *grins up at them* Guilty! *turns to Astral* Anyway, you don’t have to worry about Ellie! They’re probably one of the most trustworthy people you’ll know! They came from the element of loyalty after all. Right? *quickly and repeatedly pokes Astral’s side with both pointers* Riiiiiiight~? Astral: *laughs and swats at her hands* Right, right. Monochrome: *bows their head* I know saying this won’t prove anything, but this secret’s safe with me. I promise. Astral: *smiles* Alright. I’ll hold you to that. Terra: *hums happily, rocking back and forth on her heels* By the waaay Ellie, Dusky may look and act all serious, but he’s really just a big nerdy goober on the inside. Promise. Astral: *sighs* Way to blow my second cover. Terra: *snickers, lacing her fingers behind her head* What can I say? I love my big dorky horse friend~ Astral: *before he can show his own pout, he hears a chuckle and notices Monochrome walking closer to him* Monochrome: *holds out their hand, gaze kind* That’s good to know. You’ll fit right in, then. Astral: *surprised at first, but with a meek smile, reaches out to loosely grip their hand* That’s reassuring… Terra: Well awesome! *peers down at her phone* HM, we’ve got some time before the school opens, and Sunny said she’s getting ready as we speak! Monochrome: *brightens, subconsciously leaning back against the sculpture again* Can’t wait…I haven’t seen Sunny since vaca- *eyes widen and they quickly pull away from the sculpture base’s surface. Mo stares at it in confusion before reaching out with their fingertips, brushing the smooth marble* What…happened to the portal? Astral: Oh. *reaches out too, letting out a hum of understanding as his fingers hit the cold, solid surface* It’s been closed on the other side until I need to cross back over. It’s just an extra precaution. Terra: Yep! But hey, lean or poke all you want! You don’t ever have to worry about accidentally falling in, mkay~? Magical portal properties and whatnot! *stage whispers* It’s classified. Monochrome: Huh… *carefully leans back, crossing their arms* Okay…I’ll take your word. -Aside from listening to the sound of Terra and Monochrome’s idle chatter beside him, Astral spends his time observing the school grounds before him. As the sky and landscape around him lightens with the slowly rising sun, he notices the roaring of engines as cars pull in and park in the nearby parking lot, as well as the approach of various students towards the front of the school. The uncertainty and nervousness from earlier begin to flood his stomach once more at the sight of the teens he’d potentially be spending the next four years with. His thoughts are interrupted by a squeal beside him- Terra: There they are! -Astral traces Terra’s starry eyes and waving arms to find a dark blue car rolling into the parking lot. The minute it parks, the passenger door swings open and he watches as a small, short-haired girl hurriedly pulls her feet out of the vehicle. As if having noticed them when they had pulled up, the brown-haired girl immediately looks in their direction with the utmost glee and excitement- ???: Guys! *tosses her backpack on and throws the door car closed, rushing over* -Both Terra and Monochrome step forward, each holding an arm open as the girl runs to them. She throws her arms around them and is held at once by her friends, giggling madly as Terra nuzzles her face- Terra: Sunny I missed you so, so much! ???: *gives the two a firm, affectionate squeeze* Gosh, I missed you too! *pulls back to smile sweetly at them* Travelling is nice and all, but I’m going to appreciate seeing you guys every day again. Terra: Heck yeah! *pumps her fists into the air* The ponytail squad is back together!! Monochrome: *laughs, playfully ruffling the loose hairs on their friend’s orange and yellow streaked head* Welcome back, Summer. Summer: *giggles and takes Monochrome’s hand to pat it within her own* Thanks Momo~ *glances over at Astral and gasps softly, turning her sparkly-eyed attention to him* Oh my gosh, you must be Astral! Astral: *smiles lightly and nods* Guess you heard about me? Summer: You have no idea! *striding forward, the height difference of nearly a foot between Astral and the much shorter girl becomes evident. She takes his larger hands into hers and squeezes them* I’m Summer! Summer Rush! I’ve been so excited to meet you! *smiles at Terra over her shoulder* And you’re just as pretty as she described! Astral: Wha- Terra: *throws back her head and groans unnecessarily loud* Suuuunnnny nooOOO! Now it’ll get to his head! Astral: WHA- no it won’t! Summer: *releases a fit of giggles. She pulls her hands away* Well, welcome back to Canterlot City! I should probably introduce you- *her pale blue eyes flicker to somewhere behind Astral, and her expression shifts to one of confusion* -to…my…? -Astral jumps when a pair of hands suddenly cup over his eyes from behind. The touch is light enough not to be stifling but present enough to obscure his vision. From behind, he hears a very loud whisper- ???: Psst, guys. If you were going to replace me you should’ve given me, like, a week’s notice? *sighs dramatically* Honestly. What went wrong? Is it because he’s taller? -Astral hears a snort of laughter, accompanied by a chuckle- Summer: *a hint of amusement in her voice* Alright Sky, let’s leave the new guy alone. Sky: Baww, you’re no fun… -The hands disappear and a new shape twirls around Astral into his vision. A boy with waves of pale streaked hair growing just past his shoulders blinks a visible bright orange eye back at him. Whatever smile the boy was wearing as he faces Astral abruptly falls. He instead stands there, staring blankly at him for a few seconds. The boy then draws out a long whistle and rests his arm against Summer’s shoulder like an armrest, the small girl giving the newcomer a side-eye the moment he does. He doesn’t seem to notice as he locks eyes with Astral, expression one of great interest- ???: Heyhihello, have we met~? Astral: No, I’m…Astral Dusk? Who are you? Sky: *grins* I’m Skychaser~ You can call me Sky for short. *winks* And just so you know, I’m the guy you can go to for special private dance lessons~ Astral: *sweats in confusion* O-okay..? Summer: *stares incredulously at the ground, whispering softly* Five seconds…not even five seconds, Sky. Skychaser: *laughs and pushes himself off the girl* I’m just playing around, geez, relax! I’m on my best behavior here! Summer: *shakes her head and shoots Astral an apologetic smile* Sorry, don’t mind him, he’s a little…*motions vaguely at him* …yeah- SO ANYWAY, this is my brother! Sky: *twirls his hand in the air and dramatically bows* Older brother~ Charmed. Summer: *playfully rolls her eyes* Yes, older brother. Monochrome: Hard to believe, I know. *stifles a chuckle with their hand at the glare Sky shoots them* Sky: *sticks his tongue out at them before offering a friendlier smile to Astral* Summer said you four were all meeting up early, so I thought I’d tag along. Someone’s gotta keep these three out of troub- *whips his head and squints the moment both Mo and Summer choke out a laugh* Terra: Aww, c'mon, don’t be mean guys! *side steps to Astral’s side, smiling brightly* Chasey’s the newly designated big bro of the squad! Can’t help those bro instincts~ Sky: *grins wide* Damn right I am~ Summer: *giggles* Right, right, sorry! *composes herself and focuses on Astral with great intrigue* Anyway, enough about us! How was the trip here, Astral? I hope the plane ride wasn’t too bad? Astral: Aah, yeah it went just fine… *rubs the back of his neck* It was…quick? Summer: That’s good to hear! Sky: Oh! You’re not from here, right? Where are you from? Summer: AH, that’s right! You never saw Terra’s lovely presentation! Here, picture this, Sky. *closes her eyes serenely, waving a finger in the air* A beautifully vast land like our own, full of magical beasts and potential danger rounding every corner…~ Sky: Uh…what? -Astral nods slowly, Terra’s story of her childhood assignment, the misunderstandings that came from it, and the cover story she had thrown together as a result - one he had no choice but to adopt - taking the forefront of his mind- Astral: Yeah. Australia. Sky: Oooooohhhhh! *nods earnestly in understanding* Now I get it! Summer: Yeah! Terra has such a way with words~ -Astral feels himself relax and notices Terra’s own relieved shoulder sag. That is until Sky brings a hand to his chin, appearing confused- Sky: Wait, don’t they have accents over there? How come you don’t have one? Astral: *tenses up. Of all details for him to not have researched…* Oh, well…t-that is- Monochrome: *frowns* I think it might be a little invasive to ask that kind of question, Sky. Sky: O-oh, is it? *notices Astral’s discomfort. He scratches his cheek awkwardly* Uh, sorry… Astral: *finds that relief again and shakes his head* No worries, Sky. -The second Skychaser turns to say something to his sister, Astral notices the slightest shift of movement in his peripheral. From Monochrome’s form, leaning back against the school’s mascot statue with their arms crossed, Astral sees the teen giving him a silent and obscured thumbs up from under one of their arms. His eyes shift between Monochrome’s calm face, turned away from him and watching their friends, and the gesture. He finds himself relaxing, smiling gratefully at the other teen- Summer: *claps her hands together* So, Astral! How were your summer assignments? I hope you got through them okay? Terra: *snickers* Astral’s the last person you’ll ever need to worry about for school work! We tag-teamed it, but he was the real big brain between the two of us~ Astral: *notices everyone’s attention, heat creeping up to his cheeks. He averts his eyes and slides his hands into his pockets* It’s….not that big of a deal. I just cross-referenced our answers and paced it so we could get it done on time. Terra’s just as smart… Sky: Dang it Ter, you should’ve mentioned that earlier…*pulls an orange folder out of seemingly nowhere* Oh well. Guess I’ll just copy Summer’s. Summer: WH- when did you-?! *attempts to grab the folder, but Sky easily holds it out of her reach* Skychaser you-! You promised me you’d do yours! Sky: Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t~ *Summer stumbles a bit as Sky skips away from her, dangling the folder above him with a toothy grin* But I think I’ll hold onto this either way~ Unless you want to take it from me! -Astral notices silence descends upon the group as Sky dances away, humming a playful tune as he creates distance between himself and the group. Terra and Monochrome exchange glances while Summer stares off expressionlessly at her brother, sighing deeply- Summer: *slides off her backpack and hands it out to Monochrome* Hold onto this, please? -Once Monochrome takes it from her grasp, Summer lowers herself into something akin to a crouched position, leaning into her fingertips she splays out on the ground before her. After a few beats of silence, Astral nearly leaps when the girl darts forward, sprinting at a speed that has her closing the distance between herself and her blissfully prancing brother in near milliseconds. With one glance over his shoulder, Skychaser’s gleeful expression morphs into one of sheer horror before he lets out a shrill scream and books it in the opposite direction- Terra: *places her hands on her hips, barely containing her laughter* Wow. It’s almost as if Summer was on a track team. Monochrome: *covers their mouth as they laugh* Serves him right, honestly. Astral: Um…*feels a nervous bead of sweat as he watches on. That nervousness and sweat only increase tenfold as he witnesses Summer jump onto Sky’s back, her legs wrapping around his waist while pulling her brother’s neck into a chokehold. He turns to the other two, pointing at the scene with great concern* UM? Monochrome: *chuckles* Don’t worry. This is pretty par for the course for them. Terra: *claps a hand on his back* Yeah, even if she totally could, she wouldn’t kill him or anything! Sky is Summer’s BBBFF~ -While confused, closer inspection has Astral realizing that Sky is somehow holding out against his sister’s attack, still holding her folder far out of her reach. Despite this, as the boy runs around aimlessly and struggles with Summer’s weight on his back, glimpses at their faces has Astral realizing they’re both laughing uncontrollably. It’s then that he hears a sharp ringing, and one look at the school has Astral noticing that a large crowd of students have gathered and are filing into the building- Terra: HOO, okay! *rolls her shoulders, creating a resounding clap with her hands before pointing towards the school* Let’s get this day started! Monochrome: *blows out some air, pushing off the statue to walk forward* Guess this is happening… Terra: *matches their step* It’ll be okay! I say tackling the day with a bit of optimism helps! *moves to get a good look at Monochrome’s hair, smirking* Hey hey, I’ve been wanting to ask, Ellie… where did the cute hair tie come from~? *reaches up and tugs at one of the green cloth protrusions* These look like itty bitty bunny ears~ -From the knowing raise of Terra’s eyebrows and the slowly growing pink shade to Monochrome’s pale cheeks, Astral can gather that something unspoken is being exchanged. Coughing into their hand, Mo once again crosses their arms, looking off into another direction as if to avoid eye contact- Monochrome: M-my friend gave it to me. She said I could start the year with a new look. Terra: Ah, yes, your friend. Your penpal friend. Texting buddy. The gal pal- -Astral blinks as one of Mo’s hands fly to Terra’s mouth, a once calm expression now wide-eyed and flustered. Their green eyes dart between Terra and Astral himself.- Monochrome: Yes, my penpal friend who is a girl who I also text, thank you for summarizing Terra. Terra: *pulls down Mo’s hand and half-heartedly pouts* But when are you going to drop a naaame?? I want to meet E! Monochrome: M-maybe one day, but…she’s shy and- Summer: Oh, oh! *slides in beside Astral, seemingly having caught up with her folder in hand. Smiles brightly* Are we talking about E~? Sky: *leans in from behind the group, smirking impishly* You mean the mysterious not-girlfriend. Monochrome: And I’m out, seeyouAstral. -Astral catches a glimpse of the teen’s burning cheeks as they swiftly stride ahead of the group and disappear into the crowd- Sky: Welp, guess we lost Momo. Summer: *baps his shoulder with the back of her hand* Way to be overly direct! Sky: Hey, I’M not the one who started a teasing fest! …for once. *mock scoffs, gripping his backpack straps* I’m hurt. I’m offended. I’m heading off to Geometry. Summer: …*sighs and touches his shoulder, smiling warmly* Yeah yeah, tough guy. Good luck, okay? You got this. -Sky glances back at her with an unreadable expression, and yet again, whatever is being silently exchanged is lost on Astral. The corner of Sky’s mouth then lifts ever so slightly into a soft smile. He wordlessly salutes the three, one Terra mimics back, before he walks off down a hall- Summer: Guess I’ll be going too! But I’ll see you in second period, Astral! *cheerily waves as she splits off* Bye-bye! Terra: See ya! *beams at Astral* Now, shall we~? *slides her hand into his before pulling him along* -Like numerous times in their past together, Astral allows his friend to lead the way. His eyes roam around the various busy hallways of the school, but inevitably he finds his mind distracted and his gaze returns to their connected hands. After a short moment, his hand gently squeezes hers, whether a small comfort for himself or as a signal of gratitude for her presence. As if receiving the message, even as she focuses on the crowded hall before them, he feels the squeeze of her own hand around his. He doesn’t miss the quirk of her lips, one he finds himself mirroring as he continues to follow. They eventually begin approaching a doorway when Terra noticeably perks up- Terra: Oh, I forgot to mention! There’s just one more person I want you to meet! She has first period with us and- -Terra pauses upon entering the doorway, staring into the classroom and proceeding forward with Astral behind her. He watches her make a beeline for an occupied desk in the middle of the classroom, where someone appears to have their head down and resting in their arms. The student’s long, cream-colored hair transitions to shades of pastel orange and caramel as it falls around them from their low ponytail. While Terra releases his hand to sit in the desk directly in front of the resting teen, fully turning her body around in her chair to face the figure, Astral slowly and timidly takes the free seat beside his new classmate. His eyes curiously flick between the two- Terra: *gently pokes the teen’s lowered head* Psst, Te! Forte, we’re here! *lowers her chin onto the back of her chair, puffing out her cheeks*C'mooon Te, you’re not allowed to pass out yet! The day hasn’t even started yet, girl! -Astral watches as the teen’s shoulders rise with a particularly deep inhale, the first sign of the girl’s apparent awakening. Slowly she pushes herself up, the veil of curls parting as she lifts her head. With heavy eyelids, the girl looks to Terra first, and then in a flash her bright magenta eyes meet his.

Astral finds himself stiffening and pulling himself away from the girl’s sharp, scrutinizing stare, her expression tight and without the faintest trace of emotion. While he has heard of 'murderous stares’, never before has Astral ever found himself seemingly pinned under one. …but the intimidating image before him suddenly breaks as the girl squeezes her eyes shut, covering her mouth as she lets out one long cat-like yawn. Her head lolls to a side as she rubs one of her eyes- Forte: *blinks sleepily* ….who’s that again? Terra: That’s Astral Dusk! My bud who lives far away! *leans forward to grin at Astral* And this is my buddy Forte! I’ve known her since elementary, like Ellie and Sunny! Forte: Oh yeah… *tiredly rests her head in one palm, lazy half-lidded gaze trained on him* The one who lives in…Australia. Or something. The one that one project was about? Astral: *quietly deadpans at Terra, who he notices is staring back, mouthing a soft “I’m so sorry”* That’s right…*clears his throat* It’s uh…nice to meet you. Forte: Same…and just so it’s out of the way; I’m not angry. *points at her stoic visage, tone remaining monotonous* This is just my face. Astral: (??) O…kay. Terra: *pokes Forte’s cheek, who doesn’t bat an eye* Yeah, a lot of people keep assuming that Te is glaring at them, but what they don’t know is that she’s just a sleepy child. *giggles* Like, all the time. Forte: *rests the side of her head on her desk, cheek squishing inward* Mmm…energy is too hard to come by. Terra: You’re dang right it can be!! But you still need to stay awake for class, missy! -Astral finds himself stricken by the sheer contrast in personalities before him. At the sound of another bell, his attention snaps forward while Terra turns back around in her chair. A teacher he and just about everyone else hadn’t even noticed standing in the room with them closes the door, and after sighing out her introduction as Ms. Wallflower Blush, she begins their Environmental Science period. A number of introductions, icebreakers, and a break down of the curriculum later, Astral is surprised to hear the bell ring once more. Gathering his things, he joins Terra and Forte in leaving the classroom, only stopping when Terra turns back to him with a comforting smile- Terra: Guess this is where we part until fifth period! But you’ll have Sunny and Ellie in your next class, so- *vigorously rubs his back* Don’t stress too much! Go meet a ton of new people! Astral: *attempts to mirror her smile* I’ll…be fine. I’ll see you, Terra. -Peering over, Astral gets a better look at Forte. While his eyes flicker over the girl’s numerous accessories - from the long purple cloth-like hair tie to the studded collar around her neck - his attention falls upon a small circular crochet pouch adorned with bead decorations, hanging from her neck as a chest-length necklace. While curious of its practicality and contents, the boy realizes the small time frame the three of them have and gives a quick nod to Forte- Astral: I guess I’ll see you around too? Forte: *yawns again, nonchalantly sliding her hands into the pockets of her cardigan* Yeah, probably…see you around. *saunters off in her own direction* -With one last friendly wave, Terra too skips off to her next class, leaving Astral on his own. Despite attempts to memorize the layout of the school and his potential hallway routes during the school’s open house, the boy ends up pulling out the map he had saved regardless. He nearly sighs as he walks, remembering that his next class is nearly on the other side of the school- ???: Astral! Hey Astral, wait up! Astral: *looks over his shoulder to see both Summer and Monochrome weaving around groups of students to catch up. He smiles as they reach him* Oh, hey…I didn’t think I’d see you two so soon. Summer: Same here! I guess our class wasn’t too far from yours! That means we can walk together from now on~ Monochrome: *adjusts the folder and notebook in their arm* It’s a nice coincidence. Astral: Yeah….*staring forward, he finds himself mentally retreating into himself as the two chat with one another. Yet he also feels a push within, urging him to engage in conversation despite feeling uncertain of an approach. He comes to notice the notebook in Monochrome’s arm, then. An idea occurs to him at that moment* Monochrome? I think I uh, heard from Terra that you’re a great artist. Maybe I can see some of your artwork some time. Summer: *exchanges a puzzled look with Monochrome before breaking out into a giggle fit* A-artist?? She said that? Monochrome: *lightly swats Summer’s shoulder, a hint of humor in their eyes* I can’t believe you’re laughing at that. Jerk. Summer: I-I know! I know! Blame Terra for the joke! Astral: *glances between the two, confused* Joke? Monochrome: *chuckles* Terra’s just messing with us. I can draw a decent blob- Summer: -they’re really, really cute blobs, though! Monochrome: -but I don’t have the creative mind for that sort of thing. So I never bothered to learn. *smiles at Summer* Honestly, Sunny’s better at creative ideas than I am. Summer: *giggles and waves them off* I don’t draw either! But I can sew and make really fun costumes! Monochrome: Now those you’ll have to see some time, Astral. She’s amazing at it. Summer: SHHH! No more flattery from you! *holds up a finger to her lips, smiling at Astral* But between you and me, I will admit that my own personal brand of creativity shines best during a game of Ogres & Oubliettes, as a proud dungeon master~ Maybe you can join our campaign some time! We can get you the full details on that later if you want~ Astral: O-oh! Sure, that sounds…fun. -Astral spends the rest of the walk deep in thought, the realization of dimensional differences between inhabitants fully sinking in for the very first time. As he mentally kicks himself to tread more carefully, the three find their way into their next classroom. Sitting down, he notices Summer take her seat beside him while Monochrome sits in the free seat on her other side. Pulling out his supplies from his backpack to settle on his desk, he takes out his pencil pouch for a mechanical pencil. But as he does so, he pauses. Squints. Pulls the pouch closer to his face.- Summer: *notices Astral’s furrowed brow* Is something wrong, Astral? Astral: (!) Oh…*places the pouch down on his desk, frowning* It’s nothing serious, I just…have less pencils than I started with. *turns the pouch around, looking for holes. Finding none he checks the smallest pouch of his backpack, but sees that nothing had fallen out* That’s…so weird. I swear they were here earlier. Two are just missing. Summer: That is odd…*pulls her backpack into her lap, rummaging inside of it* Here, you can take two of mine- Astral: Ah no, it’s alright! I have three others I can use, two less isn’t really an issue… *mumbles* Even if I like how they write… Summer: Aw, alright…well if you ever need anything, lemme know! *happily begins pulling out items, one by one* I have extra paper, erasers, hand sanitizer, mouthwash, headache meds, some energy bars- Astral: *laughs* Wow. You wouldn’t happen to have a first-aid kit in there, would you? Summer: *pauses in her rummaging, staring at Astral with wide eyes. She slowly lifts her hand, revealing what is, in fact, a small first aid kit* …yeah, why? Do you need it? Astral: Oh…*shakes his head out of his stupor* Uh, no! No, I’m good, thank you. Summer: *sighs in relief* Okay! I’m glad. -Going through yet another class of lesson breakdowns and icebreakers, Astral exchanges another round of farewells with Terra’s friends. As he traverses the halls alone, once more relying on his trusty map, he begins to feel…strange prickling at the back of his neck. While he attempts to ignore it, the sensation stays with him until he rounds a corner, to which the feeling escapes him altogether. Astral finally stops and hesitantly turns his head, his eyes darting around the crowds of students in search of anything amiss. When nothing catches his eye, he lingers only for a moment longer. With one last nervous scan of the teens within the noisy hall, he hurries on. His third and fourth class periods go on without a hitch, albeit more awkwardly without the presence of a single familiar face. Even as he sits with groups of students, sharing personal fun facts as instructed by the icebreaker assignments, Astral’s guarded mind can’t help but keep his information as simplistic as possible. Anything to avoid questions and further fabrications on himself. Even when presented the opportunity to talk about his interests, Astral’s caution, as well as a familiar pessimistic voice at the back of his mind, has him subconsciously keep his answers brief. For most of the one-hour periods, Astral simply observes and listens. He quietly takes in the other students engaging in friendly chatter, stiffly and self-consciously staring down at his own hands all the while. It isn’t long after he leaves the classroom, rinsing off his hands in the nearest bathroom to head towards his lunch period, that he feels an arm hook around his. A beaming face greets him- Terra: Well well well, we meet again sir! Astral: Phew…you have no idea how glad I am to see you. Terra: Awww buddyyy-! *squeezes his arm eagerly* How’s it been so far~? Did you click with anyone? *wiggles eyebrows* Made any allies? Astral: It’s been okay. No clicking yet, but…you know. *looks off into the hallway, at the backs of numerous students* Hard to really talk about anything…it’s all still pretty nerve-wracking. Terra: *goes quiet, thinking to herself* Hmm… you need someone to connect with…someone to break the tension… *snaps her fingers* I’ve got it. Astral: (??) Got what? Terra: Oh nooothing friendo~ Anyway, c'mon! Let’s not miss the one period we all get to share! -Terra tugs him along, and after two hallways, they come to a much longer hallway leading to the large open doors of the cafeteria. Immediately as they turn the corner, Astral spots Monochrome, Summer, and even Skychaser standing across the way from the side-by-side openings that lead into the girls and boys bathrooms, as well as three unisex single-stall restrooms lining the wall just pass them- Summer: (!) Hey you two! Terra: *grins* Welcome all~ Good to see you guys got my texts. *looks around* Hmm, we’re just missing…ah! *sees Forte’s slow approach* Glad you could make it! Forte: *calmly gazes around at everyone, as unemotive as earlier* Might as well. Summer: *nervously waves* Um, hi! Nice to see you again! It’s been a while! Forte: Mhm. Hi. *turns to Terra, lazily tilting her head* Why here for a meeting? Sky: (!) I was gonna ask the same thing! Isn’t the actual cafeteria a better meeting spot? Monochrome: Well… Terra: *pumps fist* It’s time for our regularly scheduled GROUP BATHROOM BREAK! Sky: ….wha? Terra: *places her hands firmly on her hips* Yes! It’s like I say! 'Friends who take bathroom breaks together, stay together’! -While Sky incredulously looks to everyone else, Astral holds up a hand- Astral: No, she really does say that. Monochrome: *nods wisely* Terra takes bathroom breaks very seriously. No matter where we go. Terra: Of course I do! Aside from the bonding experience- *expression becomes serious* You gotta cleanse your hands and empty your systems before you infect someone or explode. And we don’t want either, okay? Don’t be a heathen. Forte: Ah. Preach. Summer: *smiles at Forte* Okay, guess we’re pairing off. Forte: *shrugs, joining Summer as she walks to the open archway across the hall* Sky: *scratches head* Well, I don’t have to go…and I literally just washed my hands. Astral: Me too, actually… Terra: *eyes unexpectedly light up* Even better! *cough* I mean- okay! That’s fine! Sooo I guess you two can wait out here and have some one-on-one chit-chat! *throws a thumbs up* Y'know, pal it up! You’ll be bros before we even get back! Sky: *snickers, leaning back against the wall* Yes, where else should you make friends other than outside a bathroom- Terra: -EXACTLY what I’m saying, Sky! Glad you understand! Astral: *eyes Terra, noticing Monochrome doing the same* Sure…okay. Terra: Okay! *as Monochrome crosses the hall for one of the single-stall doors, Terra follows backwards, finger-gunning at the boys* Eyyy, don’t gossip too much while we’re gone, kids! -Terra slides into the second single-stall, not even hiding the way she peers through the doorway at them as she slooowly closes the door. Astral and Sky simply exchange glances, and in the bustling hall, Astral searches his mind for something to fill the air between them- Astral: So…you’re an older brother too, huh? Sky: HA, you too? *grins* Your sibling as much of a nag as mine? Astral: *chuckles* No, she’s more like the one who’ll talk your ear off about anything. Sky: Ahh, classic~ *smirks* Summer has plenty of things she likes to gush about too, like the tiny nerd she is. I never get tired of it, somehow. Astral: *smiles* How much older are you than her? Sky: Mmm, two years. Nothing crazy. Astral: Oh wow, so you’re a third year! Sky: *goes quiet, staring towards the wall across the hall* …nah. I’m a first year like you guys. *glimpses at Astral, seeing the confusion on his face. The corner of his mouth lifts before he shrugs* Made a few dumb choices and got held back two years. BUT I should be okay this time. I got my act together. Astral: *winces* I’m…so sorry. I didn’t mean to- Sky: Hey, you didn’t do anything. You were going to find out sooner or later. No big. Astral: …well. *catches Sky’s eye* On the bright side…this means we’ll be spending the next four years together. Right? *offers his best smile, albeit he nervously holds out his hand* I…look forward to it, Sky. Sky: *surprise flickers across his face, genuinely taken aback. It’s then replaced by a mix of warmth and curiosity as he slowly and firmly squeezes Astral’s hand* Yeah…and it’ll be a good four years! I’ll make sure of it~ -While Astral takes a second to appreciate the successful exchange, his eye instinctively slides over to the opposite wall. There, he sees a single cat-like violet eye ever-so-stealthily peeping out from a crack in its stall door. The moment Astral squints at it, he notices the figure on the other side jump and quickly retreat, shutting the door the rest of the way behind her. Turning his head, he finds Skychaser blankly watching as well- Sky: …that was weird, right? Not just me? Astral: Looks like typical Terra-antics to me. *shakes his head, smiling fondly to himself* She’s just…trying to help me bond with people. I kind of guessed that that’s what she was going for here. Sky: And she chose me for that? *laughs disbelievingly* Wow…consider me lucky then! You seem like a cool guy~ Astral: Heh, not really…the jacket’s just a look. Sky: *smirks, looking him over* I mean…even without the jacket. *playfully fistbumps his shoulder* You seem like the wholesome kind of guy I’d want to hang around. Astral: *smiles and rubs the spot* Thank you. That…means a lot. -While Skychaser smiles sincerely back, Astral notices his orange eye flicker past him. In that instant, Sky’s friendly expression falls away. The boy straightens up to his full height instead, taking on a much more intense air as he heatedly stares hard beyond Astral’s shoulder. Turning around to follow the teen’s gaze, despite the bustle in the hallway, Astral’s eyes hone in on a figure that stands out sorely; a towering teen with a copper-colored buzz cut and thick shoulders covered by an open puffy black vest. Leaning against the corner of the adjacent hallway yards back, the boy’s rough, rugged face leers in Astral’s direction with small, menacing green irises. Within the same second Astral turns and notes him, the intimidating visage of the boy rapidly morphs into one of much apprehension and discomfort. Astral doesn’t understand why at first until he looks back at Skychaser and finds that the boy hasn’t torn his sharp gaze away, very much holding a staredown with the other teen. One last glimpse at the large boy gives Astral only a short moment to see the guy nervously and quickly retreat around the corner. The last thing Astral’s catches before he leaves - by sheet luck due to the lighting and his trained eye - is the shine of a diamond charm swinging from the boy’s belt loop. Sky: …hmm. *slowly leans back against the wall, frowning* Astral: *tensely rounds back towards Sky* What was that…? Sky: *meets Astral’s eyes. His expression softens back up, returning to his more relaxed attitude* Nothing serious. Just one of the few kids who like to talk and act big around here. Probably trying to “exert his dominance” with the new year by standing around like a big ol weirdo. As per usual. Astral: …he didn’t seem so big once he saw you. Sky: *smiles smugly* Well…let’s just say I’ve dealt with him before. And we’ll leave it at that~ …by the way, while you shouldn’t take Toby there or anyone like him seriously, you shouldn’t mess with them either. People like him will do anything to make people “respect” them. Astral: I-I see… Sky: *smile becomes more comforting, with a hint of playfulness* But hey, as long as you’re a goody-goody like Terra and co, you shouldn’t have to worry about them. Just avoid anyone who seems kind of show-offy or shady. And if any of them bug you- *grins, playfully tapping Astral’s forehead* They’ll have to take it up with ME, or at least have several strongly worded letters written to them. And believe me, I usually hate writing…and appointments. Astral: *laughs, feeling himself relax again* Okay…I’ll remember that. Summer: *moves across the hall, Forte in tow* Ba-ack~! Sky: Well about time! Forte: Your sister insisted on fixing my hair tie. Summer: I-it was slipping off! *smiles, a joking edge to her tone* Surely you’re a part of Terra’s ponytail squad, too. We members have to look out for each other! Forte: *hums* …if that’s what Terra wants, then sure. Terra: *bounces up to the group with Monochrome following. Throws her arms around Forte from behind* Yep, confirmed! Forte’s officially the fourth member! Forte: *looks back at Terra, unblinkingly* I’m honored. Monochrome: *crosses their arms* We’d have a fifth member if Sky would just- Sky: NOPE. No. *points an accusing finger at Mo, squinting at their amused expression* My hair deserves to be wild and majestic and free like a beautiful horse- Summer: Oh c'mon Sky… *pulls out several hairpins, grinning wide* It’ll be like old times- Sky: NOPE-! *runs, making a beeline for the cafeteria* Nope, nope, nope, nope- -As Terra, Summer, and Monochrome laugh, Astral chuckling alongside them, the remaining four take their time following after Skychaser. Astral takes up the rear, and slowing her speed, Terra joins him- Terra: *bumps her shoulder against his* Looked like you two were getting along~? Astral: *playfully rolls his eyes* Feels like a good start, yeah. *raises an eyebrow* Was that your big plan from before? Terra: It all lined up is all~ *twirls a finger in the air* What’s better to ease the air than some time with Skychaser~? He’s weird and funny and really nice like that. And if you can get along with me, then I knew you’d click with him! *winks* Having a bro will be good for you, Astral! Astral: *scratches head* I’ve never had a real guy-friend before…you might be right. *reaches over to lightly flick her forehead, earning him a squeak* But maybe you shouldn’t peek in on people talking. Terra: Aww…I was just making sure it was going well… Astral: *sighs and smiles* I know. And I really do appreciate your efforts in helping me settle in. Terra: *squeezes his arm tightly, squishing her cheek against it* MMMM, anything for my bestie! *beams* Welcome to the newfound Canterlot Brigade, I guess! -Walking onward into the cafeteria, Astral takes in the sight of Terra’s rag-tag group of friends. Forte, having already face-planted at the group’s table and fallen asleep. Summer, standing behind her brother at his seat and joyfully tugging his hair into a bun while he begrudgingly crosses his arms and legs. And Monochrome, sitting directly in front of Skychaser and hiding a pleased smile behind their folded hands. Astral takes a moment to really breathe in, blocking out the rest of the crowded room. While the nerves remain and his thoughts on precautions and his stiff social skills linger and weigh, he allows himself to simply enjoy the sound of casual banter from those who have quickly become friendly faces. With good company, he appreciates the momentary lack of pressure. And a single thought drifts through his mind as he and Terra join the table- 'This…will be an interesting four years.’  ____________________________________________________   I think teenage Astral is just in this perpetual state of nervous sweating. Poor awkward soft boy. Context for this chapter:  In the aftermath of expelling (most) magic from the human universe, as well as the graduation of Princess Twilight’s friends and class from Canterlot High, Twi and friends settled that keeping the existence of the portal a better kept secret from that day onward would be the best course of action in keeping the portal, both dimensions, and all inhabitants safe while preventing a possible second wave of magical corruption. Sunset Shimmer was the only one granted free but careful passage between worlds until Twilight gave the rest of Sunset’s family a chance to experience what was and still is a huge part of Sunset’s life. Only Astral Dusk, Sunset’s son, developed an attachment to the other dimension in the form of his best friend, Terra Rosa. Seeing her son’s deep bond with Terra and understanding the opportunity in having her son attend her old high school, Sunset gains Twilight’s permission in having Astral attend Canterlot High. Not only is it a way for him to spend time with Terra, attending school together and living in her household for the next four years (visiting Equestria every other weekend and keeping in touch with his mother via SciTwi and her magic journal). Sunset also believes the experience can help her son learn to find his footing with others his age and develop more relationships. It helped her, after all. And thus behold, Mirrorverse!Monochrome, Skychaser, and Summer Rush, who are each new characters in their own right. In the future they will all have their own ref image and bio! Aaaand….with this chapter, the rest of Astral’s arc will be on hold. Astral has always been a unique case and was never going to have his full past arc shown all at once, but as I was working, I found myself majorly rewriting and better developing his story ideas. SO, until I pull together these new ideas to better write the chapters I had in mind for the showing, we’ll be pausing here! Though that doesn’t mean I’m done with Astral, or done posting things for certain characters in said arc…I have a few more things to share~

[taizi]

maybe that makes me a fool

all for the game pairing: nicky&neil word count: 2824 title borrowed from broken by lovelytheband: “i like that you’re broken, broken like me maybe that makes me a fool”

read on ao3

x

Neil approaches after practice, when Nicky’s hanging on by a thread. His red hair is still wet from the shower, shirt damp and sticking to his body like he dried off in a hurry and did a half-assed job, and he’s watching Nicky like he can see right through him.

That’s not a good thought.

“And what can I do for you?” Nicky says, making sure he sounds as cheerful as he should. The one good thing about living with explosive personalities is that Nicky doesn’t even really have to try to fade into the background. It just happens. On days like this-- when memory pushes too close to the happy surface-- he’s grateful that most people don’t look too hard past face value.

But Neil Josten has never been most people. He wouldn’t even know how to be.

He hesitates, and then sinks down onto the bench beside Nicky, like he’s picking his way through a minefield. A juggernaut when it comes to everything but this. He’s so clueless, Nicky thinks, heart swelling. It’s an affection that pushes through the brittle exhaustion Nicky’s been dragging around behind him all day, and his smile settles, more honest.

Neil notices the shift, because of course he does. He gathers himself, as though he needs every spare ounce of courage he can get his hands on, and Nicky has a moment to find worry, to think maybe this is something serious--

And then Neil says, “Will you teach me how to dance?”

Nicky doesn’t have an immediate answer for that.

He blinks, and blinks again, and wonders if he misheard somehow. But the locker room is very empty around the two of them, nothing but the sound of dripping water from the showers and the muted PA system in the outside hall warbling about some student life reminder, and Neil’s voice was pretty clear. 

He’s let the question hang for too long. Neil doesn’t shift his feet or fidget, but his eyes drop about an inch so he’s staring at Nicky’s cheek instead of meeting his gaze.

And the thing about Neil is that he’s a hard person for Nicky to say no to on a good day, and not for the same reason most gorgeous guys are. It’s just that Neil so very rarely asks for anything at all that when he does it feels like progress. Like a step in the right direction. Even if it’s something Nicky would hate, he would probably say yes. And in this case?

“Of course, buddy!” Nicky says, maybe too loud, beaming to make up for the wait. “You came to the right place. I’m obviously the best dancer you know. Only what’s the occasion? ‘Cause we’ve gone clubbing about a hundred times and I’ve seen at least four separate hotties ask you to dance four separate times and you didn’t even pretend to be interested.”

Something in the line of Neil’s shoulders relents, a tension Nicky couldn’t even pick out until it goes away. He smiles crookedly, a pretty little number that only the Foxes ever get to see. The scars on his face stretch with it, pulled on one side and puckered on the other, and somehow that’s pretty too.

“No occasion,” says Neil. He looks too relieved for that to be true. "You always seem to have a good time, so I figured it's worth a try."

Neil’s a natural athlete, hyper aware in an innate way of-- of form, and energy, and space, and motion, and what to do with your limbs and your core when you’re in the middle of all that, but it’s obvious he hasn’t danced a day in his life.

“Would this be easier if I put a racquet in your hand?” Nicky teases, rearranging Neil’s posture for the third time. He’s a willing student but a hapless one, pliant under Nicky’s patient hands. “Maybe we could gear up and practice on the court.”

“It would be worth it just to see Kevin’s face,” Neil says. It sounds like he’s only half-joking. Nicky grins at him.

It’s been a bad day, but not a Bad Day. Since the nightmare that woke him with a racing pulse and a hammering heart and sweaty hair slicked to his forehead, Nicky has managed to keep a firm grasp on his thoughts, refusing to let them slide away into dangerous territory.

“Just a little sting,” the nightmare doctor said the day Nicky learned about electroconvulsive therapy, with a smile on his face he probably thought was kind. “Just a little sting to teach you those thoughts are wrong. You want to get better, don’t you? So you can go home?”

No. Nope. Nicky shuts that down before it can go any further. He’s miles and miles and years and years away from that fucking camp, those fucking professionals, the other teenagers with their glassy, traumatized eyes and shaking hands.

He bundles up in a hoodie he stole from Erik on Erik’s last visit, and he buries his nose in the collar to chase the ghost of his boyfriend’s body spray when he thinks he’s about to spiral, and hitches on a grin for everyone that greets him in the halls. It feels like he’s dragging an anchor around behind him with every weary step, but he gets by.

If there’s one thing Nicky’s good at, it’s getting by.

Neil’s hands drift into his line of vision. They land on Nicky’s hips and tug him a step closer. It’s not flirtatious in the least, Neil’s expression a study in determination, like dancing with his friend is a test he needs to pass in order to keep playing the sport he’d lay down and die for. His blue eyes are too much, focused on Nicky from a hands width away.

And Nicky’s laugh is surprised out of him. He drapes his arms over the shorter boy’s shoulders, and that psychiatrist that hurt him and that place that scarred him are the furthest things from his mind.

“Who are you and what have you done with my cute baby Neil?” Nicky says, faux-stern. “I tried to give him a hug the other day and he looked like he didn’t even know arms could do that. And now this?”

“This is what you’ve been teaching me,” Neil protests. “This is what you told me to do.”

Matt finds them there an hour later, music loud enough to rattle the glass in the window with every beat, leading each other around in circles that started out uncertain and eventually smoothed into something familiar. Nicky is laughing, Neil is scowling down at his uncooperative feet, and Matt puts his bag on the couch with a grin and doesn’t ask.

It’s two days after that first impromptu dance lesson, an hour and a half after a practice game with a local community college, and thirteen minutes after Nicky locked himself in his dorm that he finally lets go.

It’s two o’clock in the morning in Germany, and Nicky doesn’t want to call Erik and wake him up over something so stupid, something like the exhausted f slur from a meathead striker on a nobody Exy team that he’ll never see again. Nicky has heard it before, has heard worse, has heard it from his own family.

But maybe that nightmare still has its hands on him, because Nicky can’t help but let it hurt. His thick skin gives way like paper melting under rain, and he buries his face in his hands and digs fingers into his hair and falls apart.

He remembers being in high school and drowning every single day, tiptoeing around his parents, forcing himself to bring a girl home so his mom would smile, crying into his pillow at night because he didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him. He remembers the single-minded way he ran to Germany, so desperate for literally anything else that he’d rather live with strangers in a foreign country for a year than go home for another day.

He’s so different from that boy now that things like this shouldn’t still be able to touch him. He should be able to float above it all, after everything else he’s been through.

The locked outer door gives a defeated click and swings open on squeaky hinges, and someone steps into the living room.

“Nicky?” It’s Neil. Of course it is. He just broke in.

“One of these days you’re going to teach me that,” Allison’s voice follows imperiously, because at some point when no one else was looking those two became partners in crime.

“You’d have too much power. Give the rest of us a fighting chance.”

Allison’s voice doesn’t come any closer, but one set of footsteps does, and the quiet knock on the doorframe is all Neil.

“Nicky?” he says. “You were supposed to meet us at the mall.”

Fuck. Well, that explains the little B&E. Neil usually doesn’t lockpick his way into places without a good reason or at least a decent excuse. Nicky sits up and scrubs his face with the heels of his hand, knowing he has about ten seconds before Neil gets tired of waiting on the other side of the door.

“Can you believe I completely forgot?” Nicky says, all harmless and whoopsy-daisy. “I got back and just totally crashed, man.”

There’s a beat of silence, Neil chewing this response over in his head, and then he says, “Can I come in?”

It’s on the tip of Nicky’s tongue to say no, but what comes out is, “If you want.” Because he’s not his cousins, he doesn’t like to drag himself into a corner and lick his wounds. If someone he likes is an arm’s length away Nicky will at least try to reach out for comfort. He doesn’t like being alone, for all that most of his life has been a lonely one.

Neil comes in and closes the door behind him. He looks at Nicky like this is exactly how he expected to find him, rumpled and hollow-eyed and only just barely not crying anymore. He crosses the room and kneels on the floor in front of Nicky’s seat on the edge of his bed and says, “What do you need?”

God, it’s no wonder Andrew fell in love with this kid. They all kind of did. Nicky’s smile for him is a knee-jerk thing, half-hearted but the half that managed is honest.

“It’s just a bad brain day,” Nicky says, patting the bed beside him. “You don’t have to beat anyone up for me.”

“I think I’d leave that to Dan,” Neil replies smartly, but he does get up and come sit beside him. He sits so they’re pressed together, thigh and side and shoulders, a warm line of contact and company and not-alone. “Do you want to talk?”

Nicky sometimes wonders how Neil knows what to say. His whole body is evidence of the life he’s lived. No one was ever kind or courteous to him, but Neil never takes what he could ask for instead. Never pushes against a no. Sure, he broke into the dorm, but he knocked on the bedroom door.

And somehow, because it’s Neil, Nicky says, “I had a bad dream about a bad thing that happened and I can’t shake it off.”

“What do you usually do? When you can’t shake it off.”

But there’s no usually. Sometimes he can call Erik, sometimes he can’t. Sometimes his cousins are around and agreeable enough that he can soak up their company, and sometimes they slam their doors in his face. Sometimes he just crawls into bed and pulls the covers up over his head and waits it out.

So Nick gives Neil’s shoulder a playful nudge and says, “This helps. Thanks, Neil.”

Neil nods seriously, looks like he’s committing something to memory, and then pats down Nicky’s pockets for his phone.

“Hey, woah-- look, I’m flattered, but I have a husband.”

“Shut up.” Neil maneuvers through Nicky’s music app with all the authority of someone who has literally never used a music app before in his life, swiping through songs until he settles on one he recognizes. “You played this the other day,” he says, victorious. “When we danced.”

“If you can call it dancing,” says Nicky without heat. Then he blinks, mirth falling into confusion, because Neil is on his feet and facing him and holding out a hand. “What, are you-- seriously?”

Synth-pop fills the room, upbeat and infectious, and Neil is still holding out a hand.

And Nicky….

Nicky misses Erik.

Nicky misses Stuttgart and their apartment and the cafe at the end of the street and their neighbor’s stupid dog. He misses his friends and double date nights and how Erik’s mom always kissed him on the forehead when she came over for lunch. He misses being around people who like him, who don’t just put up with him because they’re stuck together, who bother him at work and blow up his phone.

He doesn’t regret coming back for his cousins for a second, he may have done a shitty job of giving them a better life than the one they had before, but he did everything he could. He’d do it again. But sometimes he has a bad day, and sometimes he wants to go home.

He wants to climb into bed and wake up to Erik’s arms around him, where creeping nightmares won’t dare try to linger past the morning. He wants to be where he’s always been safe.

Neil isn’t Erik, and he isn’t Stuttgart, he isn't any of those people or places and he couldn’t ever be them, but he’s here. He’s waiting for Nicky to get up and dance with him. He’s still holding out a hand.

“Well, it is a pretty good song,” Nicky says. "Be a shame to let it go to waste." It would probably pass for a joke if his voice wasn’t so thick and wobbly. He takes Neil’s hand and lets Neil pull him up.

“I think,” Neil says, “that home is supposed to be hard to leave.” His words are very careful, the way they always are when he’s not picking fights with Exy superstars on national television or backliners twice his size during virtually any game. “That’s the point, isn’t it? That’s how you know. If I had to leave all of you for five years-- I couldn’t imagine."

Nicky winds him closer, props his cheek on those auburn curls, and says, “Hey, your home is transitory. You know we’re never leaving you.”

“So’s yours,” is the stubborn reply. Nicky has to stare really hard at the wall and swallow a few times before he can speak again.

"Why'd you really ask me to teach you?"

"I already said," Neil tells him simply. "You always have a good time when you're dancing. You haven't been okay lately. I thought doing something that made you happy might help."

The next time they drive out to Eden's, Neil takes a few shots with the rest of them. He's in clothes that Allison bought that Andrew approves of, if the hand he slipped into Neil's back pocket while they waited at the bar for drinks was any indication. Neil's scars are lesser in the shifting colors and strobing lights, and maybe he'll never really like being looked at, but he's a little less self-conscious here. 

"I'm only dancing with you," Neil says severely, as though it's up to Nicky to make sure the rest of the club-goers keep their hands to themselves. Considering Andrew is here, watching with those sharp hazel eyes from his misleading slouch at the table, and Nicky has absolutely no doubt that the first person to even look at Neil in a way he doesn't like will find a knife tucked against their ribs in warning faster than they can say "oh shit," he's not overly worried about this responsibility.

But he still says, "Sure, buddy."

Allison shifts in her seat and lifts an ankle clear over the table, to display the six inch stiletto heel strapped to her foot. "These aren't just a fashion statement, Josten," she says primly.

Kevin looks between the three of them in drunken confusion. Andrew's mouth twitches, just barely, and he moves to help Neil out of his jacket. By the time Neil slides out of the booth, Nicky is waiting for him.

As if on cue, a familiar tune starts to swing through the speakers, and Neil lights up.

"Nicky," he says, all surprised delight, "it's our song!"

Nicky doesn't know whether the ache in his chest is the beginning of laughter or tears, but he grins through it, whatever it is, and keeps Neil as close as he can for every minute of the night that belongs to them.

[ffxivash]

Curse of the clueless

Thoughts ran around in his head, again it was complicated, he was lost not knowing how he should feel, or what he should be doing with himself. There was progress when they spoke to Loivoix, Lucerna seemed to be able to pull herself back from the abyss. As long as she wanted to fight, he would find some way to help.

The tuna tenderloin was rolled in the pepper crust, the actions more automated than anything he had to think about, he had to have made it hundreds of times. Though he was not paying attention when he put the full loin on the hot pan. There was down sides to having such a creative genius mind, the racing thoughts was one of the bigger drawbacks.

He didn’t hear Laplace Daemon come down the steps, his own mind lost in the sea of thoughts.

"Ash? Where's uh..." There was a brief pause, “...where's Lucerna? Asleep, I take it?"

An ear flicked, as her voice cut through the thoughts racing around his brain. “Perhaps…” A shrug left him not entirely sure why she was asking him about Lucerna’s state. He left her in professor Loivoix’s room. He looked at the tuna, more than he could eat portion of food, he accidentally cooked. "Want some tuna, pepper crusted."

There was a clear look of confusion on her face, making Ash wonder if he spoke in the correct language. "...Sure. I was hungry anyway, and I don't mind tuna." Laplace finally answered.

One problem solved, he took down another plate and started making the salad of sprouts, arugula and baby biter leaves that would help offset the pepper sweetness of the tuna. He also was not able to have a good meal with out some carbs, so two pieces of thick bread found a waiting skillet. “I felt, we made progress tonight.”

One of Lap’s eyebrows go up as she watched him. "With Lucerna? I think so too, poor girl. I hope she can learn to forgive herself someday..." Laplace crossed her arms, gently shook her head. "...It's a good thing she has you though. Maybe you two can figure things out." He caught a glimpse of Laplace smiling as she spoke again. "Lucerna is a sweetheart at her core, even if she'll never admit that now. I think she just needs to be supported, and maybe that can be coaxed out. Or so I like to think, but I'm no professor."

"She isn’t going to forgive herself." It was a fact in his mind, he had at least been paying attention during the emotional chats he had with Lucerna in the recent past. The tenderloin was off the heat now and he buttered the slices of bread. "It’s what defines her, how she lives with herself and what happened."

The woman heaves a deep sigh, “Perhaps not, but a girl can hope for it all the same. What of you, Ash? How do you feel?" Laplace asked while he worked on getting the toast on to a small side plate for himself. "About this, I mean. You said you didn't like feeling helpless back in there, so I know you care, at least."

There was a lot he could have said, some of it danced around his brain for a moment. "It’s complicated. Just don't push your hopes on her, or get upset when they don't workout." Sound advice that would save anyone frustration when dealing with a survivor’s recovery. A sharp clean knife cut slices of the pepper crusted tuna, placing them around the two undressed salads. "I want her to be free, to make her own choices. The same thing everyone wants I assume." He handed her the plate of food right after sprinkling the salad with some light dressing.

Taking it with a grateful smile she started to talk as she followed him to the bar to sit. "And here I thought I was just having a sandwich when I came down here." He heard her laugh softly before continuing. "I know what you're saying, though. I'd had no intention of pushing things. I just worry for her, is all. When she said what she did yestersun when we got out of there.”

He could see her color drain some as she shook her head. “She ran right off a cliff, apparently. Lucerna is…” her words faltered, “... I consider her my best friend. I want her to be free as well, but I'd also like it if she could smile for herself, if only a bit. Perhaps it won't happen but I will keep hoping."

Reaching for the iced water he took a drink like it was whiskey on the rocks. The pain that he felt at the words, suicide was an unfortunate reality in the castrum. Not everyone can do the things he had done, and live with themselves. "We will see.. " He let it drift off some as he held his water. "One day at a time, there will be days like this, were things seem to fall backwards. Hearing her say she wants to be free, gives me some hope." Lifting his glass before he was truly done talking, his words of self deprecation lost to it.

Taking the next stool, Laplace had a gentle smile, despite the dark circles around her eyes. The natural empathy Ash possessed, told him she was in a good mood. "Yeah, that made me hopeful too." There was a pause as she peered at him while he was eating. "Forgive me, am I bothering you?"

Looking over he paused clearly unsure why she would ask such a thing. Though seeing her shovel the food in to her mouth, he was not sure if she would be able to clarify without choking. So he guessed, “No, not at all. Just beating myself up some.”

Mouth wide as she was about to devour another fork full of tuna and salad, her cheeks suddenly went red. In a flurry she suddenly corrected herself, correcting her posture and dabbing her lips with the napkin, Trying to perhaps pretend she was not eating like a hungry wolf at the table. “The tuna, it's really good, you're a fine cook."

Standing she went off to get herself a glass of water was she spoke. "Regardless, what are you beating yourself up for? If you don't mind my asking. You seemed to do a hell of a lot more for her this sun than anyone else, barring perhaps the Professor."

"I can cook a very few things well." He corrected as he cut a piece of tuna in half. Then he ate it between thoughts, enjoying the fish before became cold. "I, never was great with people. I… I feel clumsy when it comes to things like this.”

Laplace simply shook her head as she sat back down. "She's a grown woman. She has her struggles but..." Lap bit into a bit of salad she'd caught on her fork, and quickly deals with it. "...ultimately, you want her to make her own choices, right? You two already have pet names for each other."

Something skipped a gear in his head and he just stared at her, before repeating the words like they were in some foreign language. “Pet names…” Blinking some as if trying to command his brain to reboot. “It’s, like inspiration, not umm…” Nope process failed and that was all he was able to say.

Her red eyes just looked at him for a long moment before her shoulders started to tremble, and the giggles escaped her in a sudden fit. "You call her 'Dove', and she calls you 'Brave', Ash!" The giggles were not done yet, continuing to interrupting her sentence. “You two are cute together, you know? She was melting into your arms earlier, it was the sweetest thing I've seen in moons."

It was not really registering what she was getting at, though she seemed amused by it. “Ummm…” He lifted his fork and ate another slice of the tuna, no higher thinking needed for the action.

Laughter now as as she fought to speak. "Forgive me, forgive me. I could ill resist the opportunity, but I mean it, you two get on well." Ash watched Laplace go back to eating and seemingly done with confusing him further. It was odd, but at the same time familiar, to be apart of a joke he had no knowledge of. Like perhaps someone placed a ‘filthy savage’ sign on his back, and every one was laughing, while he was oblivious. “It seemed to help.” His ears were pink while his moon touched gray cheeks did a good job of hiding the warmth he was feeling. “Better than doing nothing, right?” He truly sounded unsure, as if he was waiting for her to take the sign from his back, and reveal the joke.

Shaking her head she went to speak again still holding the fork ready to attack the food. "I wasn't saying it was a bad thing, not at all! On the contrary really, Lucerna, I know she responds really well to physical contact. I don't know why she's like that, but when she's uncertain, or when she's upset, she seems to calm down if she's hugged, or even if her hand is held." The last remains of her plate were eaten before she continued. "Hells, even when she seems to be having bad dreams. While she was recovering, after that Highlander drugged her, she seemed to calm a bit when someone was with her."

Peering over at him she had a smile on her face as she once again spoke. "Call me presumptuous, but I think she wants you to be the one to hold her hand in those times. If how she was leaning into you in Loivoix's room was anything to go by, at any rate."

Panic, yes, that is what he was suddenly feeling, though he racked his brain to figure out why. “I overstepped my place…” Looking away from Laplace he looked at what was left on his plate. “I’m new here, and should have not leaped in like I did."

Her head was shaking in his peripheral vision. "You're thinking too hard, Ash." There was a small break in her words for a sigh. "Think less about your 'place' here and more about what you want out of life. Forgive me for saying this, but, your job here in this Free Company, isn't your entire life. It doesn't need to control you."

There was some relief in the change of subject, less focus on the joke. "It's what I’m good at, and nobody's getting hurt by what I'm doing." He picked at what was left of his food. "Place, rank, order, it is like a first language, a good default.” He tried to explain between bites. “I also teach at the orphanage, seeing I know what it is like to not have anyone or anything. I want them to have opportunities, without being swept up by the Empire." Looking over at Laplace his ear flicked some, perhaps finding one of the sources of her confusion. "You do know I’ve only been out of a uniform for a year and a half? Of that I’ve only been here, a moon or so." Saving her from explanation that he spent most of that first year being a hermit, and scavenging, before being manipulated by a psychopath.

Some understanding as she shook her head, no she didn’t know. "I didn't know that, but I do now, forgive me.” A small apologetic smile filled the air between thoughts. "I suppose I can understand, though. T'would be like me, trying to shake myself out of a huntress' mindset. It's my default." "If you'll bear my prattling a bit longer, I think you should chase what you want. Do what comes naturally sometimes. Like that hug she needed that, I think, but I won't lecture you further. You say you teach at an orphanage? I didn't know that, either. Would you tell me a bit about them?"

The thought of the children brought a small smile to his face. "I won't turn away advice, though not sure if I will follow it. I think people are making this out to be more than it is." He had hoped to spare Lucerna from the teasing.

Laplace chuckled at that. "I'll not fluster you further, not tonight at least."

His plate was at least clear now, "They are all so thirsty to know everything, innocent even the ones who are the most hurt. I, have a hard time remembering myself like them. I teach science, once a sennight we do something practical outside, a space to safely experiment. It has been a tad taxing they do not understand what happens when I... when I have to step away."

There was a brief moment of silence as she listened. "Step away for visions, I take it? I... Well, perhaps they need not know." Ash could see her grimace, likely remembering the one time she had witnessed him having a vision. "Sorry, 'tis hardly my business, but, I would simply tell them you have regular migraines.”

"That is what I have said, the head mistress seems to be forgiving, and my lessons are not a main focus of the cas… orphanage.” The Imperial terminology was likely going to haunt him for the rest of his days.

“Ah, but I digress. I'm glad you have something you enjoy. Ash, if I may offer a light suggestion?"

There was a pause as he waited for her suggestion. "If they're in Eorzea, perhaps bring them to Lucerna's restaurant sometime? There's apparently magitek-based games there, it could be a fun way of showing them different uses for science."

He was not going to over step his boundaries there. “They are in Gardenia, though I'm not…” Shaking his head some. “... it is not really my place. Though I may make something like it, perhaps something that helps them understand how things relate to each other.. " His words drifted off as he thought about a couple of visuals that could help with his lessons, including some basic problem solving games. He felt his mood sink some, he had a full time job, and one on the side. "A lot of ideas not a lot of time."

He could see she understood, likely faced similar problems herself. "I see, I misunderstood, forgive me."

Did she think he ran an orphanage? A year and change away from the empire, where did she think he would find the time. Also he was not going to tell her that he was not legally in Eorzea, the Alliance had no idea he was there, and he had no intention of telling them.

"If you ever decide to pursue that idea though, to create something similar, I'd like to see what you come up with." She gave a light smile as she got to her feet. "Much as I'd love to chat all eve. I fear my lack of rest since last eve is beginning to take its toll, and I feel my body telling me it's finally willing to sleep.” “If you ever need help chasing those ideas of yours Ash, try and remember you've got friends now, alright? People who will help you." Turning she made her way up the steps with a few parting words. "Take care, Ash. Thanks for the tuna, I'll repay the favor sometime."

"Rest well. After this turn around, I will likely also see how much sleep I can get." There was a small wave before he picked up the dishes and went to the kitchen to clean them. The racing thoughts were at least more organized now, and now he was able to focus. Though he was not looking forward to the nightmares, the memories of people who had ended their own lives, were already trying to get a hold.

[your-hero-imagines]

how about a scenario where aizawa spends time with his girlfriend on his birthday?

Your wish is my command!

________________________

When Aizawa woke up, a sweet smell filled his nose. After he got into a sitting posture and looked over to your side of the bed, he realized you had already stood up. Before coming to you, he’d do his morning routine: Getting some cold water on his face to wake up, using some of his eyedrops and get dressed.

Walking into the kitchen as he rubbed his eyes, he saw you standing in front of the stove as you hummed happily while baking pancakes. Looking at the calendar at the wall, he realized why you were up so early, even though you love sleeping at least as much as he does. “Oh, it’s Novenber 8th already? Means a lot of annoyingly happy people today” he thought silently. “Morning” he mumbled, still sleepy as he took a seat.

And there it began. “Good morning!” you cheered, hugging him from behind and kissing his cheek befor you placed a cup of coffee in front of him. “Happy Birthday, you grumpy old man!” “You’re only 2 years younger than me…” he grunted. “See? You’re damn old!” He had a pretty bad sense of humor, but even he knew that your joke wasn’t funny. Yet his annoyed face was kind of satisfying to you sometimes.

“Anyway, what do you want to do today?” “Nothing special. It’s a day like anyone else.”  You sighed. It was pretty obvious that he reacted that way. That’s why you didn’t plan anything great for today, yet you wanted him to feel comfy and loved. It was his day after all.

“I’m already late, I’ll make my way. Thanks for the breakfast” he said as he kissed you hastily and grabbed his bag. “Have a nice day, Sho!” You smiled after him as he left the house.

Oh, you’re too sweet for him to even be mad at you. At least you accomplished what you wanted: He felt pretty warm and fuzzy as he left the house - starting the day unknowingly smiling this whole time.

______________________

Thirteen and some other teachers, who tend to always be at school earlier than needed, were already talking about the matter: “So…should we congratulate him? Or just act like it’s nothing?” “I think he’d feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t like being the center of attention after all” All Might suggested. “But if we just gratulate him casually, one after one?”

When Aizawa entered the teacher’s room, the problem solved itself - kinda. Mic immediately run over to his friend, ebracing him into a deep hug and rubbing his face against Shouta’s cheek. “AIZAWAAAA!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BESTIE!!!” “You’re too loud. And too close. It’s annoying.” “I know what you wanna say. I love you too, man!” “Get lost.”

The uncertain mood disappeared while the others laughed at Mic’s hilarious attitude. “Happy Birthday from us too!” Thirteen said. “Yeah, yeah. Thank you” he said uninterested as he sat down to get to work.

Opening his bag to get some papers, he saw that you packed a small cupcake with a candle on top of it. He sighed. “I guess it can’t be helped. She just likes doing this kind of stuff. And it’s not really bothering me, so…” he thought as he too a bite. “Tastes good as always.”

______________________

When the lunch bell rang, Aizawa was going to his usual place to get a snatch of sleep. He was very grateful that you accepted him not wanting to celebrate his birthday. Actually he thought you’d struggle more, trying to force him doing something big. It was wonderful that you were so understanding.

While pulling his sleeping bag over the floor with one hand, he took out his cellphone from out of his pocket with the other to check on you with a quick text. But when he looked at his screen, he had already recieved a message from you an hour ago.

“Hey! How’s your day going? I hope the others go easy on you. Tell ‘Zashi and Toshi hi from me! :)” Aizawa smirked gently as he saw the picture you sent him. “So childish.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I miss you.”

His students were even noisier than usualy today, trying to sing Happy Birthday to him. It sounded horrible. He lay down as he examined the present they got him: Noise-cancelling headphones. “Well, even those kids can make wise choises after all - sometimes.”

__________________________

On his way home he feared that maybe you had been planning a surprise party or anything. The thought alone made him cringe. He never really got why anyone should celebrate having been born. What’ the logic behind celebrating a random event, or getting older at all?

Coming home he was really glad that he didn’t had to work that night, just jumping right on the couch, announcing“I’m home” - but it was hard to understand since his head was burried in pillows.

You came into the living room, already wearing sweatpants and one of his t-shirts, as you brought his favourite juice and some snacks with you. Swinging on the couch too, you sat on top of him and massaged his back. “I’ve already ordered food. You want to watch a movie or something?” “Sounds nice.”

As the evening went, you both cuddled up into a big blanket, your head on his shoulder. He felt very comfy being like this, just spending a quiet evening. “You know” he whispered with a slight glimpse of emotion in his voice, “I’m very happy to have you at my side.”

Every time Shouta would tell you something sweet your head would turn brightly red. “Do you have a fever or are you embarassed again?” he scoffed with his big Totoro-smile. “Shut up” you replied, pinching his cheek before he kissed you apologetically.

___________________________

Shortly before midnight you suddenly left the room. Coming back you held your hands behind your back. It was pretty obvious, but you weren’t hiding it anyway. “I hope you’ve had a nice day.” “Obviously. I was with you” he answered bluntly. “You charmer”, you giggled as you held the present at his face.

“I told you I don’t need anything.” “I know that. But…you know…I am happy that you were born, Sho.” His cheeks blushed as he took the small envelope, trying to calm his excitement. Attention wasn’t all that bad - as long as it came from you.

“An…animal sponsorship? What’s that?” “It’s from the animal shelter at our town. With the money I gave them, they’ll feed their cats for one year. And you can visit them as often as you want for this whole time!” Aizawa’s eyes widened in joy before he engaged you into a soft but deep kiss. “You know…somehow I don’t even know how I deserve you.” “Now you’re getting irrational, Sho” you blurted out, awkwardly laughing.

“So…” he began to tease while his hands slid carefully under your shirt,wanting to repay you for this wonderful evening. “Can I unwrap my other present now?”

[glitchinthesystemspiderbyte]

[24] Glitch in the System - Spaces Between

By E. Broken bridges happen. _

When they returned to the mansion that next morning, Akande spared them no moment of peace to resettle: Sombra had a pile of intel to analyze, and Widow was almost immediately sent off on another surveillance mission. They hadn’t even finished unpacking and she was gone.

It felt like ripping a band aid off a wound that hadn’t healed yet. They were too fresh; too fragile to send back into chaos, and while Sombra missed Widow terribly, she also knew that this was a feeling she’d either need to accustom herself to or seal herself off from. For the first time, she was worried - legitimately and truly concerned for someone other than herself, and while Widow was good, no one was perfect. Sombra was suddenly acutely aware of the danger the sniper walked into every time they set out on a mission, and that worry threatened to consume her.

Instead, she dug into her work, shifting her focus from internal moping to hyperproductivity. It felt good - a return to something she knew, something that had been her companion for far longer than any person, and was certainly less difficult to manage. After two full days, barely sleeping and scraping sides of the deep web even she found repugnant, she returned to Akande with some of her best work yet.

Akande was silent as he scrolled through the data she’d mined on the contacts he’d given her.

“Good work, Sombra,” he said, nodding in approval, filing the data away for who knew what purpose. He had his own motivations and Sombra was content to let at least a little of Akande’s endgame remain a mystery so long as it didn’t interfere with hers.

“Are you surprised?” she asked, smirking. Akande, for all his oversight and machinations, still didn’t grasp just how good she was. Some day it would be to his detriment; right now it was simply an opportunity to gloat.

“No,” he replied, steepling his fingers. “Just glad to have the two of you back.”

“Glad to be back at it,” Sombra replied, nurturing a familiar sense of self-satisfaction as she excused herself from the room and went on about her morning.

Widowmaker, apparently, returned the night before, but Sombra didn’t realize until they ran into each other at the coffeepot. Sombra had filled the basket that morning, so the brew was exceptionally dark and extremely strong.

“Good to see you in one piece,” she said, smiling warmly at the sniper. What she’d actually wanted to say was “I see you’re back, want to do unprofessional things to each other in the attic?” but at 7am it seemed presumptuous even to her. “How was your grand return to Talon duty?”

“Unremarkable,” Widowmaker said, her tone impassioned as always, but lacking even the small spark she’d fostered back at the chateau.

“You wanna blow this joint?” she asked, leaning against the counter, close to the spider without touching her. They hadn’t really discussed life after the chateau aside from the occasional joke or rueful recognition that their honeymoon was over. It occurred to her now, over the most awkward cup of coffee she’d ever had, that perhaps they should have.

“I have work to do, Sombra,” Widow sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “As do you.”

“Right, sure, but it’s not going anywhere. We could go, I don’t know - get gelato or something.” She reached out to touch Widowmaker’s arm, and to her surprise, the spider backed away from her.

“It’s the middle of December,” Widowmaker replied in a chiding voice Sombra hadn’t heard in over a month. Back before the shift in their relationship, she’d coded that tone as a challenge; a hilarious call to arms to push the surly sniper out of her comfort zone.

Now it just felt like a slap.

Sombra dropped her arm to her side. “Or not. That’s fine, too.”

Widowmaker frowned, looking conflicted and as though she were about to speak when the sound of footsteps called both their attention elsewhere.

“Morning,” Gabe announced as he walked into the kitchen, his arrival as ill-timed as ever. Widowmaker looked between him and Sombra, her expression unreadable.

“Morning,” she said, grabbing her mug and walking from the kitchen. She looked back once, gaze landing everywhere but on the hacker, before heading back upstairs.

“Hey,” Sombra said, glaring miserably into her mug. Data was so much less fucking complex than relationships.

Gabe was silent, regarding the coffeepot suspiciously before turning his eyes back to Sombra. Far from his usual disdain, he seemed concerned. “Are you two, ah,” he asked, clearly uncomfortable.

“Are we what, Gabe?” she asked hotly, acutely conscious of the faded red welts, courtesy their last night at the chateau, still gracing the line of her collarbone.

“Okay,” he asked, unfazed by Sombra’s curt response. He stepped past her on the way to the cabinet to pluck a mug from its depths. He took his time doctoring his coffee, stirring the hot liquid, adding his customary dash of milk until it was light brown and almost a drinkable temperature. “Are you okay.”

Sombra was caught off-guard by the man’s interest, eyeing him warily before judging it to be sincere. That fact coupled with her pre-existing discontent neutered any snark before it had a chance to come out of her mouth, leaving her bereft of her usual snappy comebacks.

“I don’t know,” she said simply, sipping her coffee and immediately scalding her tongue. “It’s rough coming back to reality, I guess.”

Gabriel snorted and Sombra bristled instinctively, but when he leaned against the counter beside her, holding his mug in both hands, his posture was supportive, not mocking.

“I don’t think she’s ever had a vacation,” he started, looking across the kitchen in thought as he spoke. His calloused hands were too big for the mug, making it look comically small in comparison. “Not in ten years.”

“That’s readily apparent,” Sombra said, smiling back on their time at the chateau. “I swear she’d have shot at a dust bunny if I hadn’t hidden her rifle.”

“I hear you nearly had an altercation with some local teens?”

“Narrowly avoided quadruple homicide. When I’m the voice of reason in a situation, you know things are bad.”

Gabriel chuckled, offering her a sardonic smile. “You’re smart, Sombra. Too smart, sometimes, and I’m not entirely sure I trust you.” Sombra looked at him askance, uncertain where this conversation was headed, but Gabriel cut her off before she could reply. “But you’re good for her, and I think she needs it.”

Sombra opened and closed her mouth several times, uncertain how to respond to such a candid admission from the grizzled man. “I - thanks,” she settled on finally, lacking more complicated words at that moment. It wasn’t as though they’d been subtle about it, but she still felt strange talking like this with Gabe.

Gabriel, it seemed, felt no less comfortable by the situation, and after a moment of silence, cleared his throat and pushed away from the counter. As he headed out of the kitchen, he paused as he stepped over the threshold to look back at Sombra. “Just give her time. I’ve never seen her...happy before.”

Sombra bit back a caustic remark about how that was his fault in the first place, opting instead for a casual shrug of agreement. “Yeah,” she said, avoiding eye contact to look down at the polished wood floor. Gabe stood a moment longer before turning to leave Sombra alone with her thoughts.

Despite the unfamiliar sense of confusion she felt, Sombra made it a point to at least try and reach out to Widowmaker. She did what she could to drag the spider from her lair, but Widowmaker was either absent, unresponsive, or so deadpan in her responses that Sombra had nothing to work with. It was like staring back in time at the creature she had been before their casual flirting had become a natural intimacy, and it took Sombra the span of a week to accept the fact that it hurt.

Eventually she gave up and took Gabe’s advice, giving her space, and letting time do what it did best. It wouldn’t be the first time Widowmaker had snubbed her affections. It was just that, this time, she actually cared about receiving them.

As was customary whenever Sombra felt uncertain about something, she dove back into her work. She hacked everything, from personal dossiers across organizations - the intel she dredged up on Satya Vaswani in particular was just deliciously intriguing - to banking records for international corporations. Unsurprisingly, corruption was a theme across almost every lake of data she dredged, and before too long, the catharsis of watching other people be horrible to one another wore off, leaving her tired and uninspired. Humans were so predictably terrible; so easy to predict.

Everyone but Widowmaker.

Swiping away her console, she gave in for the night, logging what useful intel she’d found and instantly forgetting the rest. The world would still be corrupt in the morning. She had much bigger fish to fry, and much smaller regrets with which to lull herself to sleep.

As she changed into her pyjamas, Toulouse meowed plaintively for her attention, and she knelt down to offer it to him in an effort to shed some of her malaise.

“You miss your spider?” she asked him as he purred and pressed against his hand. He’d grown so much in the short time she’d had him, from a scrawny stray into a lanky, healthy adolescent with big paws and a more agreeable attitude than a cat had any business exhibiting. Toulouse flopped down on his side, paws kneading gently against her knee.

“Yeah, me too,” she said, smiling ruefully down at the purring ball of black and white fur. Giving him a final pat, she pushed herself to her feet and crawled into bed.

As her eyes began to close against the beckoning of sleep, she heard the sound of her bedroom door opening quietly, soft footfalls against the wooden floor making their way to the other side of the bed. A moment later the mattress beside her depressed softly and a single, cold arm wrapped itself around her waist.

She waited what felt like several long minutes, until Widowmaker’s breathing fell in time with her own, and she was certain she was actually awake and not dreaming.

“Widow?” she said, staring into the darkness before her, the only illumination the neon ambient glow off her computer.

The spider murmured against her shoulder blade, incoherent but affirming.

“I swear to god, if you snub me for a week ever again I am going to hack your visor with the least compelling porn I can find.”

The sniper’s cold lips smiled against her back, and Sombra felt her grip tighten around her.

“I will not,” she said. Then, softly, “I am sorry. I - I still forget how bridges work sometimes.”

“It’s cool,” she said, and after a brief spike of concern dissipated, realized it was true. Grabbing Widow’s fingers between her own, she closed her eyes and smiled. “We’re good.”

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic

[221bshrlocked]

Guys My Age (2)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 6007

Warnings: SMUT. NSFW gifs. 

Summary: You’re playing truth or dare with the Avengers when Nat asks you when the last time you got laid was  and Sam dares you to pick a song that perfectly grasps why you haven’t had sex in so long.

A/N: Enjoy the smot. And please use protection people. Better safe than surprised. I think this is dirtiest fic I’ve written so far.

Permanent tag list: @meganlane84

Previous Part Next Part

As soon as you shut your bedroom door, the tears were rolling down your cheeks nonstop. Your legs gave out on you and slid down to the floor, trying your hardest to regulate your breathing before this turned into a full-on anxiety attack.

This hurt so much more than you thought it would. He didn’t even give you a chance to finish. Maybe you took the flirting too far? Maybe you weren’t his type and he was repulsed? But even if, he could’ve let you down a little gently.

Your thoughts wouldn’t go away anytime soon, but after a while, you managed to stop crying and pick yourself up.

Meanwhile, Steve was on his way to Bucky to ask him about what happened and why he saw you crying on your way out. He didn’t bother knocking on the door, barging in and looking around the barely-lit room. He saw Bucky sitting at the edge of his bed, hunched over with his head in between his hands. He didn’t bother to acknowledge Steve.

“Bucky, what happened just now with Y/N? She was running out of your room crying.”

“Crying? She was crying. Isn’t that something. Fuck. FUCK!” Bucky was past angry, and Steve didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that his best friend was afraid and uncertain about you.

“Buck what’re you talking about?”

“Are you in on this too? Please tell me you’re not. I can’t afford t-”

“WHAT the hell are you saying punk?” Steve was getting impatient with his friend’s lack of a functioning brain cell.

“Tony and Sam put her up to this didn’t they? They even said it before the dare...telling her to loosen me up a bit. Was her telling me she liked me another joke to you? She can’t go around playing with people’s hearts Steve.” Bucky was pacing back and forth, refusing to acknowledge Steve’s confusion while carrying out an entire conversation by himself.

So busy trying to figure out where this all went wrong, he didn’t see Steve approaching him.

“What the fuck man?” Bucky yelled at Steve, holding onto his jaw until he felt blood rolling down his chin. Steve’s body language was aggressive but his tone was calm. He massaged the hand he just used to punch his best friend, deciding to head out before this escalated.

“You’re a moron.”

Bucky stood there and wiped his chin in silence. It was his turn to be confused.

“She’s been interested in you ever since she joined the team, probably way before that even. You think she runs around and gives lap dances to anyone? Sam and Romanoff were trying to help you guys out. Clearly it backfired...”

Bucky wasn’t sure he heard Steve correctly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water because how the hell was he supposed to react?

“Have you really been that blind? Why do you think she always goes out of her way to help you out Buck? Yes she is a nice person but she’s not that nice to everyone else.” Steve felt bad that he punched his friend but when Bucky continued to stare at him like he grew a second head, the regret was gone.

“What?”

“Omyg- she likes you, you idiot.” Steve yelled, rolling his eyes at the man that used to be a casanova.

Bucky didn’t know what to feel. Should he feel happy because someone like you found him worthy enough of your time and feelings? Or should he jump off a building because of how he overreacted and treated you?

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. So I suggest you go and apologize now.” Steve pointed to the door, never once softening his gaze because he knew this wasn’t going to end well if no apologies were given this night.

“I can’t.” Bucky whispered sheepishly, like a child who knew his parents were about to yell at him again.

“Why not?”

“She probably doesn’t want to see me right now Steve. I told her to leave.” He huffed and wanted to kick himself over and over and over again at the way he treated you.

“All the more reason to go and talk to her. If you don’t, I will.” Steve turned around and was about to walk out of the door when Bucky told him to stop.

“Wait just- fine.”

“Go. NOW!” Steve raised his voice when Bucky didn’t move a muscle.

He walked out and stopped midway to your room, trying to figure out what he should say to you if you bothered to open the door for him. He did only just break your heart. Maybe you’d give him another chance if he begged enough.

When he did get to your door, he couldn’t find the strength to knock, raising his hand only to drop it tirelessly when he remembered what he said to you. He stood there for what felt like an eternity before taking a deep breath and knocking three times.

“Doll?” He called out when he didn’t hear anything from the other side.

You were washing your face in the bathroom when you heard the knock on the door, quickly wiping your face before walking to your dresser. You thought it was just Steve or Natasha coming by to check on you.

“Just a second!” You yelled out before quickly putting on a shirt and heading to open the door.

The last thing you expected was Bucky standing in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat for all the wrong reasons. He looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole and you weren’t sure why he was shy all of a sudden when he pretty much kicked you out not two hours ago.

You froze, not knowing what to say or how to react to the way he was looking at the ground. When he finally looked up, he saw the way you were staring at him and knew there were probably a million things running through your mind. But what got his attention was what you were wearing, or perhaps, lack thereof. The shirt was barely covering your thighs and it was silky and he could see the black lace bra peeking from the side.

Fuck. This isn’t the time to check her out man. Really? Getting hard while you’re trying to apologize.

That, thankfully, didn't go unnoticed by you. He was blushing, his jaw as tense as his posture while his metal arm started to shift.

Realizing he probably wouldn't be able to form a grammatically correct sentence if he tried to apologize, he decided to show you how he felt instead. Bucky did the only thing that came to mind, taking two steps into your room and slamming the door shut behind him before grabbing the back of your head and crashing his lips with yours. When you didn’t react to him immediately, he began to panic and pulled away, afraid he made matters worse.

“Fuck I’m s-sorry. I didn’t th-” He was cut off by you violently pushing him against the door and reaching around to lock it behind him. And He was even more surprised when you, quite literally, jumped on him and grabbed his neck, roughly pulling him down until you were smashing your lips with his. His metal hand grabbed your ass while the other one supported your back and pushed you towards him. You moaned when you felt the cool sensation of his metal arm seeping through your panties, arching your back into him to try and get closer.

He took this chance to open your mouth with his tongue, swirling it around your desperate lips and growling when he felt your nails digging into his skin. You pulled away when the need for oxygen became too much, your eyes taking in the man in front of you.

He was a sight to behold.

His hair was messy, pupils dilated with a thin blue ring around them that made him seem dangerously needy. His lips were red from where you bit him, and you smiled when you saw sweat begin to form on his neck and around handsome features.

“Buck-”

“I’m so sorry. I swear I didn't know darling. I’m an ass. A dumb, clueless ass.”

“James-”

“No wait let me finish.” Bucky rested his head on the wall, trying to calm his breathing and avoiding your gaze because he wouldn’t be able to finish a sentence if he saw the way you were looking at him.

“Doll I didn’t give you a chance to tell me anything. I was so furious and still turned on that all I could think of was ‘there is no way in hell she’s interested in you...it’s all a bet.’ Steve punched some sense into me and told me how much of an idiot I’ve been all this time and I’m just so fucking sorry.”

“BUCKY!!” You roared at him to grab his attention, happy that he finally slowed down and gave you a chance to talk.

He looked at you like a puppy who was finally allowed to come inside from the rain.

“Fuck me. Now. You can apologize later.”

Bucky let out a whimper, not fully comprehending how you were so forgiving towards him.

It took him an extra second to finally figure it out. He knows why and it scared him to death because what if he hurts you? What if he accidentally does something that’ll make him regret doing this?

He didn’t realize he was thinking out loud until he saw the look on your face.

“James. I...I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time, longer than I can remember. And with that comes complete and utter trust. And acceptance. You won’t hurt me.” Your hands were grasping his neck, forcing him to look into your eyes because you knew he wouldn’t find a hint of a lie in them.

“How do you know?” Bucky had such a reluctant and sad look on his face that made you realize why he was doubting you.

“Because I’m not made of glass. I’m made of so much more. And I trust you with my life. My heart. My everything.”

When he said nothing, you motioned for him to put you back on your feet. You took his metal hand when he set you down, walking to your bed and pushing him down so he could sit at the edge of the mattress. You stood in front of him for a few seconds before you started stripping.

He sighed heavily when he saw you pull off your shirt, and you smiled when you noticed him visibly shaking, the blush creeping up his neck turning you on way more than it should.

You straddled him, immediately taking both of his hands and putting them on you. You needed to feel him somewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere.

“I trust you.”

And with those three words, the walls he’d spent years building around himself came tumbling down, leaving a glimmer of hope in their ruins.

He kissed you again, this time with so much desperation and need you thought his life depended on it. His hands were roaming everywhere and you couldn’t get enough of the contrasting temperatures. It felt like someone set you on fire before dragging ice across your skin.

“Please..”

“What do you need, baby? Tell me what you need...just want to make you feel good. Use your words doll.” He started kissing and biting down your neck, his hands grabbing your ass.

“I n-need you James.” You tried to keep your eyes open, wanting nothing more than to see him become unhinged. But the way he touched you made you feel nervous. You couldn’t possibly look at him, not when he was about to devour you.

“Fuck, say that again.” Bucky whispered in your ear, smiling at your insatiable neediness.

“I need you.” You were panting against him, a part of you feeling just a tiny bit of shame because he barely even touched you.

“No, not that. My name…say my name again darling.” He groaned against your skin, licking down the valley between your breasts and chuckling when he felt your nails digging into his scalp.

“James…”

“Again.”

“James.”

“Fuck, again Y/N-”

“James...I- I love you.” You hesitated through the simple words, afraid it would all be too much for him.

And just like that, the last ounce of control Bucky had flew right out the window. He held onto you tightly before turning around and slamming you to the bed. He was furious with his touches, kissing down your exposed skin until he reached the soft lace of your bra.

“How much do you like this bra?” Bucky asked impatiently.

“I don-'' Before you could finish the sentence, Bucky was grabbing the front of your bra and ripping it in half.

“I’ll buy you a new one doll.” When you didn’t reply, Bucky was worried he scared you with his eagerness. Reluctantly, he looked up to gauge your reaction and attempt to salvage the damage he may have created.

What he saw, however, took his breath away. Fucking hell. You were blushing so hard.

“Did- did that turn you on?” He asked with that devilish smile, and you looked away to hide your embarrassment. It was all he needed to know.

“Well...I was planning on making love to you tonight but I don’t think that’s what you want. Is it darling?” You managed to meet his eyes, silently telling him your deepest desires.

In the blink of an eye, Bucky was taking hold of both of your hands, slamming them high above your head before forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

“You want it rough baby girl? You want me to use you huh? Fuck you into the next world...fill you up with my cock and wait till you beg me to make you come? Is that what you want sugar?” The involuntary moan you let out was music to his ears.

“Before we begin, I need you to do two things for me. Yeah? I need you to keep looking at me. You lose eye contact and I’ll stop. Understand?”

You nodded quickly, making him chuckle from how desperate you were to please him.

“And if this gets to be too much, you have to tell me to stop. Please...Understand?”

Once more, you nodded so hard you grew a little dizzy.

“Good girl.”

He placed his hand on your cheek and smiled when you leaned into it. Dragging his hand down your neck, he pinched your nipple and you arched your back in response, wanting to get away from the pain but refusing to let the pleasure subside. Going down further, Bucky’s hand stopped at the top of your panties, rubbing the lace material between his fingers and groaning when he felt how soaked through they were.

“Doll. Were you wearing these downstairs?”

“Hmmm.”

“Fuck. Had I known, I would have taken you right then and there.”

You were breathing so hard at his words you swore you were going to pass out. He was being so filthy and sweet and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“That dance was somethin’ else.” Bucky was stalling and you knew very well how much he was enjoying keeping you on edge.

“Got me so worked up..so hard. And the way you grabbed my hands. So confident in your body. You were teasing me doll, dry humping me when you knew how hard I was. And in front all of them too.  It took everything I had to not rip your shirt and bend you over the table, and fuck you until you begged me to stop.” You were silently begging him to put his hands where you needed him most, but he still did nothing to appease that growing fire.

“And that song...you naughty girl. I gotta say, I thought it might be a turnoff because of how old I am. But look at you, such a mess and I barely touched you. You wanted attention from a grown up baby girl. Here I am.” His eyes were swimming with something dangerous and the few functioning neurons in your brain were telling you this was probably more than what you bargained for. But you didn’t care.

“James please.”

“Please what?” Bucky asked, eyebrow raised and metal hand tightening even more around your wrists.

“James…”

“Tsk tsk tsk. Use your words. What do you need?” He was smirking at your shameless panting, something he’d tease you about later.

“Want me to hold you like you’re my woman? Like you belong to me? Like I’m the only one that has the right to touch this body...caress it...embrace it...love it?” His gaze was so intense you felt as if he was looking right through you, into the depths of your soul. You couldn’t look at him anymore, shutting your eyes and almost sobbing when his hand flexed before wrapping even tighter around your wrists.

“What was rule one sugar? Maintain eye contact.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly before they moved towards his dilated orbs. You were getting wetter by the second and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

“I can’t. Please.”

“What?”

“Bucky, your eyes make me feel so exposed…” Your chest was heaving and he smiled again, taking in your rapid breathing and the way your nipples pebbled the longer he gazed at them.

“Doll, you’re not exposed.” He wrapped two fingers around your panties and pulled, the sound of material ripping making you flinch before looking down.

“Now you’re exposed.” You closed your legs involuntarily, sighing in annoyance when he quickly brought his hand between your knees.

“Open up Y/N. Open up for me.” You reluctantly obeyed him, slowly opening your legs and shivering when you noticed how impossibly dark his eyes became.

“Fuck Y/N. Your pussy looks so fucking pretty. I hadn’t even touched you yet darling and you’re this wet? You’re glistening. All for me. Is this all for me Y/N?” He kept his eyes on your exposed center, and for some reason, that turned you on even more. He was genuinely enjoying what he was looking at.

“Yes James...all for you. No one else. Please..please touch me I n-need to feel you inside me please James don’t tease anym-”

Without any warning, he slid between your legs and kissed your inner thighs, biting your skin when he saw how sensitive you were. You tried to buck your hips against him but that only made him want to have even more control over you, holding down your navel with his arm as he started lapping up your juices.

“Oh ohh oh god- James please...d-don’t stahp...shit oh god please don’t stop!”

Your begging only edged him on, the hoarse cries making him growl into your wet cunt, sending vibrations into your core.

“FUCK B-BUCKY!”

You placed your hands on your mouth to keep quiet, not wanting to give a show to the rest of the floor.

“No I wanna hear your sweet sounds. Let me hear you please. I want to hear what I do to you doll.”

When you removed your hands, Bucky pressed onto your thighs to open your legs wider, spitting on his fingers before pushing two inside.

“No James wait-”

He froze immediately, not knowing what he’d done wrong.

“I-I want your…” You didn’t finish the sentence, too embarrassed to say it what you wanted out loud.

“What do you want? I’ll do anything, just please let me taste you again.”

“I want your metal ones.”

Had you not been looking at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the instant change in his facial expression. You thought that perhaps you’d taken it too far but when he swore under his breath and threw you that dashing smile, you knew he was on board.

“Fuck me.”

You were actually turned on by his arm. This arm that caused so much pain. This arm that he hated more than anything else.

“James?”

He was so taken back by what you were asking him to do he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his throat. You misunderstood him, hiding behind a pillow because of course he would laugh at you.

Bucky quickly apologized before grabbing the pillow and throwing it at the end of room.

“This turns you on?” He asked as calmly as he could, afraid that he might get too excited and actually hurt you by accident.

You knew you couldn’t escape and the thought turned you on. The fact that you were cornered by him was incredibly sexy yet you still nodded shyly at his question.

“I love you so fucking much Y/N.” And without hesitation, he pushed his middle finger inside, violently sukcing on your clit until he felt your heart skip a beat.

You couldn’t breathe from how intense the cold finger felt inside of you and Bucky had to slow down to make sure you were still with him. “You gotta breathe, doll. Breathe.”

He added another finger and your back arched off the bed, your entire body feeling like it was soaring through the air and would crash at any moment. Bucky didn’t care he was probably being more rough than he wanted, and you grabbed onto his hair, pulling him closer to your pussy to try and ease the pain of wanting him everywhere.

“Fuck, do that again.” He mumbled between his attacks and you pulled on his long locks again.

“James I-I’m com-ming oh god I can’t…”

He curled his fingers with a particular thrust, hitting your g-spot time and again while licking violently at your clit. You screamed louder than you thought possible, your legs violently shaking as you came hard around him.

He didn’t slow down or stop and your hips bucked again against him, causing him to hold onto your stomach tightly.

“James please s-stop I can’t-”

He slowed down and started kissing your thighs. But once he noticed you breathing calmly he curled his fingers again and flicked your clit with his thumb, making you cry out once more and tug on the sheets around you.

“FUCK JAMES-”

“That’s it baby girl...let me hear you. Come for me.” You came again and Bucky was enamored, wanting to see your face when you came again. He pressed harshly on your clit, making you shut your eyes and gasp for air.

“Look at me Y/N. I wanna see you come on my hands.”

You tried as hard as you could to open your eyes and when you did, he was looking right at you, smirking as he fingered you faster.

You completely lost it, somehow coming harder than before. Bucky slowed down when he noticed the sweat forming on your forehead, keeping his hands still when he saw how violently your legs were shaking.

When you came back to reality, you felt something odd on your legs and the blankets beneath you. Looking down, you saw what happened, eyes widening in horror as you tried to crawl away from him.

“Oh my g-”

“Holy fuck. My hand never did that to anyone before.” You suddenly felt empty when he dragged his fingers out, his entire arm glistening in the dim light of the room.

“Doll. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. You actually squirted. All from my arm!” He put his fingers into his mouth and sucked, shamelessly humming as he licked them dry. “And you taste so fucking sweet too.”

You were still trying to come to terms with how much Bucky was enjoying this but the need to hide from him increased with every approving hum. He saw you turning your face to the side and moaned, crawling up your sweaty skin before smashing his lips with yours..

“D-don’t say stuff like that...I get-”

“Flustered? Shy? Embarrassed? I was fingers deep inside you not a moment ago and you’re flushing because of what I’m saying?” He sucked on your neck before licking the discolored skin.

“I’m just admiring, darling.”

“Why are you still dressed?” You huffed impatiently, attempting to move from under him to get his clothes off.

“Let’s fix that shall we.” You grabbed his shirt before he could move above you, tugging it off and throwing it away. When you tried to settle back, you felt his hips moving against your heat, silently thanking whatever higher power existed because yes, he was as big as you thought he’d be.

“Let me take care of that.” You fumbled around to pull on his sweatpants, repay him the favor, but he swatted them away and stood up.

“No. Tonight is about you.” Bucky took off his pants and stood in his boxer briefs, and you swore you saw him twitch beneath the flimsy material. You excitedly licked your lips. The boxers left nothing to the imagination and you suddenly felt like he was standing too far from you. Damn he was blessed!

And no matter how many times you saw him shirtless, it still made you rub your thighs to alleviate the pain between them. When you finally tore your eyes away from his rippling muscles, you saw him already smirking at you.

“See anything you like?” You rolled your eyes at his cockiness, hating how flirty and shameless he was all the time.

When Bucky moved on top of you once more, you felt overwhelmed from his violent touches and needy kisses.

“These...are god’s greatest creation.” He was biting on your nipple, rolling the other between his metal fingers before pinching them.

Your skin felt like it was on fire and you smiled when the coolness of his fingers seeped through into your veins.

“James I-”

“Fucking hell Y/N, my name sounds so good falling from your lips. You know that? If I’d known it sounded so pretty from this tongue, I would have told you to call me James ages ago.”

You shuddered at how easily turned on he was by you, grabbing his neck and sliding your tongue past his lips to explore his mouth.

“James I need you inside me. Now.”

“Yes ma'am.”

He struggled to take his briefs off, throwing them away before nestling himself between your legs. The moment you laid eyes on his cock, you stopped breathing, almost gasping at how big he was. Really big. No wonder he was so cocky. No pun intended.

“Fuck me.”

“About to doll!” He laughed before realizing he didn’t have any condoms with him, frowning annoyingly before huffing into your neck.

“Shit I don’t have any-”

“I have an IUD...and you obviously know when the last time I was laid was so I’m clean.”

He sighed with relief, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist as he started rubbing his dick on your wet pussy.

“James don’t tease...” You whined, bunching the sheets around you and hoping he’d get the message of how much you needed him to fuck you.

With one thrust, Bucky entered you and as cliche as it sounded, it felt like all the fireworks in the city simultaneously went out. He waited until you adjusted to his size, bending down and kissing you to try and distract himself from how hard you were clenching around him.

“Move.” You whispered into his ears and Bucky obliged immediately.

He started out with slow thrusts, sighing in relief when he felt you relax around him.

“You’re so fucking tight...so wet. Do you hear that doll? Hear how wet you are for me?” You were past shy now, not caring how you sounded or what you looked like as he pushed violently into you.

Bucky looked down and saw where you were joined. “Fuck fuck ah shit darling.” He grabbed the back of your neck and raised it just a little so you could sit up and look at where you are joined as well.

“Look...shit-” He was panting above you, his breath falling over your cheek and making you flutter around him from how desperate he sounded.

“Look down doll. Look how good your cunt is...ah fuck- taking my cock.” You looked down and the sight of his dick coming in and out of you made you moan so loud, anyone walking by would have thought you were a porn star.

“Fuck..”

“You feel like heaven...your pussy is squeezin’ the shit out of me. FUCK-” Your muscles contracted around him with every filthy word he growled in your ear.

“Shit, do that again.” You clenched around him again and he couldn’t hold back anymore, thrusting into you as hard as he could until the only sounds in the room were skin slapping on skin, his grunts, and your impossibly loud moans.

“James you feel so good...fuck, you feel so so good.”

Without thinking, you grabbed his metal hand and placed it on your neck, silently asking him to wrap it around your skin and squeeze. He was about to ask you what you were doing when you looked into his eyes and whispered,. “I trust you.” Bucky’s hands flexed before applying little pressure to gauge your reaction. 

You were genuinely getting turned on by his arm.

“Fuck, doll I’m close..”

“Me- oh god, me too.”

“Come with me. Y/N come with me- shit you’re- tight...your cunt was made for me. Fucking made to take my cock like good fucking girl-” He saw your hands rubbing circles around your clit, hissing when you started convulsing around him. Placing your legs on his shoulders, Bucky fucked into you harder, never once thinking about slowing down to give you a break. You needed this. Both of you needed this.

When Bucky turned to watch you come undone beneath him, he felt so many things at seeing your mouth open in pleasure, eyes looking right right back at him and begging him to not stop.

He bent down and kissed you, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss and hoping you’d feel what he felt for you.

Your flexibility turned him on way more than it should have but what made him lose it was the feeling of your skin so hot and sweaty sliding against him. Bucky swallowed your moans, his teeth nipping and licking your lower lip before sucking on your tongue. The look on your face was of pure bliss, his cock sliding in and out of you at a rough pace and hitting all the right spots.

“Ahhh James…I’m- fuck oh fuck shit baby you’re-” The harder he fucked into you, the more friction he created on your clit, his navel rubbing against your sensitive nub and making you see into the next world.

But as much as he loved having his lips on yours, he pulled away begrudgingly, placing your legs on his shoulders before fucking into you harder and chasing his own release.

“Fuck come with me babygirl.” He removed your hands from your clit replacing them with his.

You came so hard you thought you saw stars. Your mind was swimming with endorphins even after his thrusts lost rhythm and his breathing grew heavier.

“Can I come inside you? Will you let me come inside this beautiful cunt? Huh sugar-”

“Yes ahh yes James come inside me. Want to feel your cock filling me up baby.”

“FUck fuck fuck-” He fucked into you harder, and within seconds, you felt hot spurts of cum coating your walls. He continued to push inside you until he was spent, wanting to commit every emotion to memory.

You didn’t know how long you were wrapped around each other, smiling when you noticed how in sync your breathing was. Bucky was drawing circles around your nipples, kissing your neck nad sighing heavily against it from the flood of emotions in his chest.

“Fuck.” You smiled.

“You can say that again..” He chuckled when you tried to move away from his wandering hands, claiming that you were suddenly ticklish from his touches.

He moved to get up and you both hissed at the same time, still sensitive from your vigorous activities.

“Fuck, look at that.” He helped you sit up and you followed his gaze.

“Oh my god.” You hid in his shoulder when you saw what he was talking about.

His cum was leaking out of you, mixing with your own juices and wetting the bed sheets beneath you.

“Darling that’s so fucking sexy.” He remarked and you laid back again, hiding in your arms and groaning when he tried to pull them away from your face.

“I was so deep inside of you and you’re still shy? We gotta work on that babe.” He walked to the bathroom and grabbed a wet towel to clean you up.

Laying down next to you, Bucky tried to clean your inner thighs when you shuddered and motioned for him to stop.

“No wait wait..I can’t I’m so-” You weren’t able to say just how sensitive your skin was.

“Seriously? You were moaning like a pornstar not a second ago!” You laughed at his reaction and saw him placing the towel next to you.

You rested your head on his chest, drawing circles on his chest as you enjoyed the warmth his skin was giving off.

“I gotta thank F.R.I.D.A.Y.” You chuckled.

“Why?”

“Well if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have given you that lap dance.”

“Oh that was all Sam and Romanoff apparently.” Bucky said as if it was the most normal response to give you.

“What?” You pushed back and looked at him, wanting to make sure you heard him correctly.

“Yeah Steve told me.”

“I’m going to fucking murder them.”

“Why? Look what you got out of it.” He motioned at himself and you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Oh yeah. What did I get out of it?” You leaned towards him, kissing his jaw before leaving love bites down his neck.

“The best sex of your life.”

“Not gonna lie. You're right.”

“Best sex of my life too to be honest.”

“No need to lie.” You laughed, knowing very well he was probably high off of oxytocin and just wanted to compliment you.

“I'm serious. The moment you made me finger you with this I knew I was done for.” He held out his metal hand and laughed when you hit his shoulder.

“I love you James. All of you.” You took his metal hand and kissed his palm, noticing the way he shivered at the simple contact.

“God I love you so much.”

“I know.”

You were both startled by what happened next.

“I UNDERSTOOD THAT REFERENCE!” Steve yelled.

“You meatball!” Sam yelled and smacked him before you heard others joining in and swearing at Steve.

You looked at Bucky, eyes close to tears from embarrassment as you realized why they must have been standing outside. He stood up quickly and strutted towards the door, not even bothering to put anything on as he opened it and watched as they all scrambled away.

“You're all dead I swear!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, slamming the door before crawling back into bed with you.

Bucky smiled when he saw how flushed you were, pulling you into his arms and rubbing your back to comfort you. “Nevermind that.”

You were both quiet for a while before you broke the silence and asked him something you were afraid of hearing the response for.

“Could you stay with me tonight?” Even though a part of you knew the answer, you were still afraid this wasn’t as serious to him as it was for you.

“I ain't going anywhere doll. Not now, not ever.” He kissed your hair time and again, loving how perfectly you fit in his arms.

“I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too Y/N.”

[pitviperofdoom]

BNHA: Summer Stars, 12/?

Summary: It’s been judged safe to send the students of UA home to their families for the first three weeks of summer, much to the relief of everyone whose name isn’t Todoroki Shouto. Luckily, Midoriya has a solution for him, and Midoriya Inko has a lot of love to give.

AO3

When the doctors finally released him, Toshinori walked out into the hospital waiting room to find Midoriya Inko waiting for him, and no one else that he knew. He stopped and glanced around, confused, but sure enough both of his students were nowhere to be seen.

“Aizawa-sensei came a little while after you called him,” Mrs. Midoriya explained. “He said that the best place for a discussion like this would be the school, and we decided it would be best if the boys went on ahead with him.” She glanced around at the waiting room, which was nearly full. “Too crowded to be comfortable here. I volunteered to stay and wait for you.”

“Thank you.” Toshinori moved to follow her to the door, glad to be out of here soon. He had little love for hospitals these days.

“They’re both… unhurt,” she continued, once they were outside. “But Todoroki-kun…” Her voice trailed off. Toshinori nodded, and didn’t press her to finish.

The tears had stopped by the time heroes and police arrived to collect Deimos, but Todoroki hadn’t said a word after that. He’d stayed close to Izuku’s side, avoided eye contact with anyone, and kept his mouth shut.

Toshinori already hated feeling helpless. Helpless and guilty were a combination that made him sick to his stomach.

The passenger seat of Mrs. Midoriya’s car was cramped, but he wasn’t about to hold that against her because he was over seven feet tall and every passenger seat was cramped to him. As she pulled out of the hospital parking lot, he stayed silent.

“There’s going to be a conversation,” she told him. “About… what happened today. Izuku seems keen on including Aizawa-sensei, and Todoroki-kun… well, he didn’t protest, so.” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “… Are you all right?”

For a while, he didn’t answer her. The quickest and most truthful would have been no. “You knew,” he said at last.

“Hm?”

“You knew there was something wrong,” he went on. “That’s why you were asking after Todoroki earlier. Wasn’t it?” His breath caught in his throat. “You asked about his home life.”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“How?” he asked. “How did you find out?”

“I… I wouldn’t say I found anything out,” she told him. “But I suspected. And as for why, well, it wasn’t any one thing, more like… well, you were a hero. Don’t you ever have instincts like that? Little feelings, little… alarm bells, and at the time you don’t know what set them off, but when you look back on it later you think, ‘oh, of course.’” She paused. “It was like that. Little, meaningless things, except now I know they meant… everything.”

“Like what?” he asked cautiously.

“He apologized too much,” she answered. “He was quiet, and at first I thought it was just shyness, but then I noticed how much he apologized. Nothing dramatic, it was just… he used ‘sorry’ like a comma sometimes, you know?”

And Toshinori thought back to every conversation that he could recall sharing with Todoroki, but… no, he couldn’t remember noticing anything like that. “I… don’t know that he ever did that with me.” Had he simply forgotten, or missed it?

“I think I made him nervous,” she went on. “Izuku had other friends over, and then, then I saw him relax. He had fun, he told jokes, he smiled. But with me, it was like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act, so he was… over-cautious.” She sighed. “And then, a couple of days ago, he hurt himself by accident. Stepped on something sharp, you know? And he didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t ask for help. When Izuku noticed, he acted like getting blood on the carpet was a bigger concern. And that was when I thought, what kind of life does a child lead, that makes him hide injuries like that?” Pausing, she shook her head. “I didn’t like the answer I came up with. And Izuku… I could tell he knew. By then, I could tell there was something more to why he’d invited his friend into our home for an entire three-week break.” She glanced at him briefly. “So that’s why I asked you about his home life. I wondered if you might know something… maybe I could think of some way to help him.”

Toshinori took a deep breath, and let it out. “I see.” And he hadn’t. He hadn’t known a damned thing.

He could feel Mrs. Midoriya’s eyes on him, only for a moment before she turned back to the road. “You mustn’t blame yourself.”

With a short sigh, Toshinori covered his eyes with one hand. “Mustn’t I?”

“Who would accuse someone like Endeavor of something like that?” she asked. “Even I hesitated. I questioned myself, even when the hints were right in front of me.”

“But you saw the hints,” he said. “Even if you questioned yourself, you noticed. You noticed that something was wrong, after one week with him. He’s been my student for over a year, and I didn’t even—I knew he had problems with his father, and I never even—”

“I’ve been a parent for sixteen years now, All-Might,” she said wearily. “You’ve been a teacher less than two. It all comes down to experience.”

Mrs. Midoriya lapsed into silence then, and it continued for a stretch afterward. It wasn’t until the next time she stopped at a red light that she sighed and turned back to him.

“Also,” she said. “I think… I might know why you didn’t notice.”

He raised his eyes and looked at her.

“Something you need to know is that my son was—” Her mouth tightened. “He was bullied, All-Might. Very badly. Did you know that?”

Toshinori blinked at her. “He mentioned it. But he’s never gone into detail.”

“All through elementary school, and middle school after that,” she said. “When he was younger, there were really only two places he could go—school, and home. And I…” Her mouth twisted with regret. “I didn’t—I knew he was having trouble, because he didn’t have a quirk, but I didn’t know how bad it really was. I didn’t realize until—God, until he was in high school, when I looked back and saw how much things changed for him. He wasn’t happy at school. He put on a brave face and kept his grades up, but he wasn’t happy there, and I didn’t know that because I only ever saw him at home. And I always made sure that home was somewhere he could be safe and feel wanted and loved.” The light turned green, and she drove on. “People—children especially—need places like that. They need their safe spaces. Izuku wasn’t happy at school, so his was home. So I think, for a child who doesn’t have a happy home, the reverse must be true, don’t you think?”

Toshinori stared at her, at a loss for words.

“So maybe the reason why you never noticed, was that you only ever saw him in a place where he felt truly comfortable. And even if you say that’s no excuse, even if you say you should have done better… just remember that. That the place where you always see him, and he always sees you? That’s his safe space, All-Might. You helped build that for him. And you can keep helping him now that you do know.”

He looked away, blinking back tears.

“Thank you,” he said, once he had composed himself. “For saying that. I still say—there are things I’m remembering now, hints like you said, and I still say I should have caught them, but… thank you.” He managed to smile at her. “That helps a great deal.”

They reached the school in due time. Much of the rest of the drive passed in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but both of them had much on their minds.

As they approached the building, Mrs. Midoriya paused. “Is it all right that I come in?” she asked, looking uncertain. “Or does this not have anything to do with me?”

“That’ll be up to young Todoroki, I think,” Toshinori replied. “But you’re just as involved in this as anyone else, and… I think you could offer some good insight to this.”

“All right.” She nodded firmly. “I’ll do my best.”

The common area was immediately inside, and it was occupied. Both boys sat side by side on one of the couches, looking to be deep in hushed conversation. Beyond them, in the student kitchen, Aizawa was making tea.

Izuku looked up as they came in, though he didn’t get up. His eyes narrowed slightly in Toshinori’s direction, and then his face relaxed, as if he was simply confirming that his teacher was still in one piece. With a steaming mug in hand, Aizawa came over to join them.

“So,” he said. “Want to tell me what this is about? And why we’re talking about it instead of police or higher-ups?

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori saw Todoroki stiffen. Izuku put a comforting hand to his shoulder.

“Because it’s sensitive, especially in these troubled times,” Toshinori replied carefully. “Enough that it’s best to decide on a clear course of action before we do anything… messy.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

Toshinori looked to Todoroki.

The boy’s eyes were fixed on his lap. His fingers dug into the couch cushion on either side. Izuku sat up straight next to him, with a posture that was borderline protective.

“Any more tea in the kitchen, Aizawa?” Toshinori asked, as Mrs. Midoriya made her way over to sit with the boys. “I could do with a cup.”

“Thought you might,” Aizawa replied, taking the hint. “Come on, there’s plenty.”

The kitchen was just out of earshot of the sofas, but Aizawa still kept his voice low as he planked a mug into Toshinori’s hands. “So I’m guessing there’s a reason why Midoriya’s spent the better part of an hour looking ready to skin someone alive.”

“You heard that young Todoroki defeated Deimos,” Toshinori said.

“Seeing as I’m not deaf, yes.”

Toshinori filled his mug from the kettle. “And you were briefed on the nature of the villain’s quirk.”

“Are you going to answer my question, or just keep telling me things I already know?”

“A telepathic illusionist with a fear-based quirk took one look at young Todoroki and made himself look like Endeavor,” Toshinori said bluntly. “He then proceeded to say quite a few things that were alarming, to say the least, and the long and the short of it is that I’ve overlooked something that I should not have.”

Aizawa blinked at him. He raised his own cup to his lips, took a sip, and then lowered it again. He took a deep breath.

“Fuck,” he said, and with a jerk of his head started walking back to the others.

Toshinori felt his heart sink as he followed. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I think Midoriya tried to throw me a hint once.” There was something in Aizawa’s tone that made the hairs on the back of Toshinori’s neck prickle. “Let’s see what this is about.”

Moments later, all five of them were gathered at the couches. Toshinori sat across from the boys, Aizawa stayed standing, and Mrs. Midoriya sat among them with a look of concern on her face. Todoroki was still avoiding anyone’s eyes. Aizawa considered him for a moment more, than sat down as well.

“No one’s forcing you to talk,” he said simply. “And no one’s here to judge you or call you a liar.” His bloodshot eyes flickered around at the rest of the group. “Pretty sure everyone in this room respects you too much for that. What’s more, nothing leaves this room unless you say it does. Sound fair?”

Slowly, Todoroki nodded. He raised his eyes briefly. “You called my sister,” he said. “Do you already know?”

“I don’t,” Aizawa replied. “I suspect, but I don’t know anything solid.” He paused, considering Todoroki. “Would it be easier to start from the beginning?”

The boy hesitated again. Beside him, Izuku quietly reached over and took his hand. Todoroki shifted at the sudden touch, then seemed to rally himself. Finally, he raised his head and looked at the rest of them.

“You all know what quirk marriages are, right?”

---

When Todoroki finished speaking, the room was quiet. Izuku was scowling, and still hadn’t let go of his hand.

The first to move was All-Might, and Inko watched in faint alarm as he got up from his seat and walked back to the kitchen. Everything about him was wound tight. Inko caught sight of Todoroki watching him go.

Aizawa was leaning forward as he listened, fingers steepled before him. His eyebrows were knitted together, though Inko couldn’t tell if he was quietly livid or merely thoughtful.

“This has been going on since your quirk manifested?” he said at length.

“It’s been going on since before I was born,” Todoroki said flatly.

“Mm.” Red eyes flickered toward her son. “You knew, I take it.”

“He told me during the Sports Festival, last year,” Izuku said. “Right before our match.”

Aizawa blinked. “Hm. That answers that question.” He sat up straighter. “Why keep it to yourself, then? You, I get,” he said, with a brief glance to Todoroki. “Why didn’t you say anything, Midoriya?”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Todoroki spoke up. “I asked him not to tell anyone.” He paused, and his fingers gripped the sofa cushion tighter. “I didn’t want him to find out.”

“Give us some credit,” Aizawa told him. “We wouldn’t have brought Endeavor into it—”

“No, I mean—” Todoroki shot a look toward All-Might, who was walking back to them. “I didn’t want you to know.”

Inko couldn’t help but send a worried look of her own toward All-Might as the former hero sat back down. He still had yet to stop looking like the world was crashing down around his ears, and she could hardly blame him.

“And why not?” he asked finally.

“Because I knew you’d blame yourself.” Todoroki seemed to search his face. “You’re doing that right now, aren’t you?”

All-Might shut his eyes. “My boy…”

“I’ve never blamed you,” Todoroki went on. “Ever. The only one I ever blamed for any of this—” he gestured vaguely at his face “—is that bastard.”

“Todoroki,” All-Might said wearily. “Your father hurt you and your family, and he was motivated by hatred for me—hatred that I have been blind to for years.” He opened his eyes again, and Inko’s heart went out to him. “I’m going to blame myself. And that also means I’m going to do everything in my power to help you.”

Todoroki looked away and nodded.

“Oh, and Midoriya?” All-Might turned to Izuku.

“Yes?”

The former hero seemed to consider him for a moment, his face thoughtful. “I seem to recall you had some harsh words to say to Endeavor, some months back. To his face, no less.” Inko looked at her son, shocked. “I scolded you for it at the time. I would like to retract that scolding.”

Izuku shrugged. “You don’t have to. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it.”

Aizawa stood up smoothly from his seat, eyes on Izuku. “Midoriya,” he said, and Inko couldn’t decipher his tone. “A word.” He jerked his head to the side, back toward the student kitchen where their conversation might not be heard.

Izuku hesitated at first, exchanging a quick look with Todoroki. Up to now, he was still holding his friend’s hand, and Inko could see her son’s reluctance when he let go and got up to follow his teacher. On an impulse Inko rose from the sofa as well, and risked a gentle touch to Todoroki’s shoulder as she passed him.

As she caught up to Izuku and his teacher, she noticed the latter’s eyes on her and met his stare evenly, silently daring him to send her off. He blinked back, as unhurried as a cat.

“Quick request,” he told her. “Let me finish? Before you leap to take sides.” Inko glared at him, but he was already looking away to focus on her son.

Izuku met his eyes, briefly, but in the end he had to look away.

“You knew.” Aizawa’s tone was icier than Inko would have thought possible. “For over a year, you knew about this. And you said nothing.”

Her son shut his eyes. “Aizawa-sensei—”

“This isn’t just about keeping silent while a dangerous man was put in power,” his teacher went on, face dark with anger. “You’re still only a student and that isn’t your responsibility, though believe me, I am not ignoring that in the slightest. But this is also about helping to hide the fact that one of your classmates was in an unhealthy and potentially dangerous situation, which—as your teacher—I do not appreciate.” Izuku winced. “I’m disappointed in you, Midoriya. From the beginning you’ve shown a near-refusal to open your mouth when you know something is wrong.” His bloodshot eyes narrowed. “I would have expected better from you when one of your friends was on the line.”

“I wanted to.” Izuku’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “It was on my mind and I wanted to, I swear. But I promised him I wouldn’t and I didn’t want to break his trust.”

Unable to contain herself any longer, Inko shook her head and sighed, lamenting her son and his honesty. “Izuku, for something like this—if your friend is being hurt then you need to—”

For the first time, her son’s head snapped upward to look at them. “You think I didn’t know that?” he blurted, clearly struggling to keep his voice from rising out of control. “I did, but it’s Endeavor. People don’t like him, but most of them respect him—they did even when he was just number two. I didn’t know if telling would do anything or just make everything worse.” His face tensed, and his eyes glistened with tears. “And then Kamino Ward happened, and suddenly he’s Number One and he’s the biggest thing keeping villains back from destroying everything.”

“That’s all the more reason that you should have opened your mouth sooner.” Aizawa’s tone was quiet and hard as stone.

“I didn’t know if that would do anything.” Izuku faced him, and Inko could see his hands shaking. “It felt like if I said anything, then no one would believe me.”

“You think I wouldn’t have believed you?” Aizawa asked him.

“No, of course you would!” Izuku shook his head vigorously. “But Endeavor’s not stupid. People like him never are. They always know how to get away with it, or get people to back up their side of the story instead of anybody else. Or spin it so they don’t look as bad, and it looks like other people are complaining about nothing.”

Inko winced. “He isn’t wrong,” she admitted, seeing the way Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “Especially with all the trouble these villains are causing—if nothing else, he could probably appeal to priorities.” With a fretful sigh, she turned back to her son. “Still, Izuku, that doesn’t change the fact that you should never keep quiet about these things. Especially if you know Aizawa-sensei would have believed you. How do you know others wouldn’t have, too?”

“And what then?” A haunted look flashed through his eyes. “Think, Mom, what would happen if I told the world our main defense against villains was almost as bad?”

Inko shook her head. “But that just isn’t right—”

“Of course it wasn’t right!” Izuku’s voice cracked. “But it felt like every other choice would lead to something even worse if it led anywhere at all.” He reached up with his free hand and wiped his eyes.

“Be that as it may,” Aizawa said. “It would’ve been better if you told one of us. More than a vague hint, anyway.” He gave Izuku a considering look. “You’re right about the risks of public outcry when security these days is so fragile. But that doesn’t mean that we, your teachers, can’t still help.”

“I know.” Izuku’s voice was shaking again, and he was losing a battle against his tears. “I-I knew it would all go wrong if I kept quiet. But I knew it’d probably go wrong if I didn’t, and nothing felt like the right answer.”

Inko felt her heart twisting and tearing in her chest as she watched him struggle to dry his eyes and get himself under control again. It only took him a few moments to gather himself up and face them again, eyes red but dry. “I’m sorry, Izuku,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry you were in that position.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

“All-Might implied you confronted Endeavor once,” Aizawa went on. “Was that true?”

A dark look crossed Izuku’s face, only to waver into shame. “Yes. It was months ago, when Shouto was in the hospital. Endeavor said something and I just… lost my temper and snapped at him.” He shook his head vigorously. “And I know, it was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it and that’s why I went back and apologized.”

Inko’s mouth dropped open. “To Endeavor?” She knew, vaguely, what he was talking about—he’d told her that one of his friends had been injured in a widespread villain crisis—but he’d never told her any of this.

“I got scared.” For a moment, Izuku’s voice sounded small. “I thought he might take it out on Shouto if I told him off to his face.”

The words sent a chill through Inko, and she sneaked a glance at Aizawa just in time to see cold fury vanishing from his face. When she looked to her son again, he had pulled together once more. That look on his face was one that she recognized—a bullheaded, unflinching frown that was far less angry than defiant, and yet thoughtful at the same time. It was the look he’d given her when she’d very nearly pulled him out of UA. “What was going on in your head, Izuku?” she asked him. “I know that look, young man—you had something up your sleeve. If you weren’t asking for help then you had ideas of your own. It’s not like you to sit around and do nothing.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Izuku replied. “But I didn’t know how we could fix it right away, so I decided I’d play the long game instead.”

Aizawa cocked an eyebrow. “What was the long game?”

“Get stronger,” Izuku replied. “Help everybody else get stronger—our classmates, all the kids training to be heroes. We couldn’t do anything against Endeavor now because maybe no one would believe us over him, and he’s the strongest so he’s the main thing stopping villains from destroying everything.” The frown on his face turned fierce. “But it won’t be like that forever. The stronger we get, the less the world will need him, and then it won’t matter if everyone knows what kind of person he really is.”

“Replace him and drag his name through the mud?” Aizawa said. “That was your plan?”

Izuku shrugged. “I didn’t say I liked it. But if Shouto can be patient about this then so can I. Besides, I was already planning on being the best, so it’s not like this changed much.” He locked eyes with his teacher, looking tired but determined. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I should have.”

“Hm.” Some of the hardness in Aizawa’s face seemed to give. “Well. That’s enough beating that dead horse. You didn’t, and I expect better judgment from you next time. Understand?”

“Yes, sensei.”

---

Toshinori watched the other three move off, and continued to resist the relentless waves of guilt. Now was not the time to wallow in should-haves and almosts.

Much as he might want to. And probably would, once this was all over. He’d have to get it out of his system at some point. But for now, he sat beside young Todoroki and tried to summon up the words to express even a fraction of what he was feeling. Was there anything useful he could possibly say that wasn’t just a meaningless platitude? Or worse, an apology?

“Sorry” felt like such a useless word. Which was probably fitting, because Toshinori felt like such a useless man.

“Is Izuku going to be in trouble for this?”

Todoroki’s voice startled him out of his own musings, and not only because the boy had spoken up so abruptly. Since when had his two students reached first-name terms?

“I think Aizawa is upset that Midoriya kept this from everyone,” he answered, perhaps a little too slowly to be reassuring.

“But I asked him to.”

“I understand. But you know Midoriya has… a bit of a history of keeping quiet when he shouldn’t.”

“I know that,” Todoroki said, eyes locked on Toshinori’s face. “But I asked him to.”

“Sometimes,” Toshinori said with a heavy heart, “we have to choose between our word, and what we know to be right. And in this case, Aizawa and I—and Mrs. Midoriya as well, probably—don’t agree with the choice that young Midoriya made.”

“I’m glad he did.” The boy’s mismatched eyes wavered for a moment, but held firm. “I needed that. At the time, I—I needed someone I could trust, and he was there.”

It was Toshinori who turned away first. “Well,” he said quietly. “I’m glad someone was.”

“You’re doing it again.” He could hear Todoroki shifting to face him fully. “I told you, I don’t blame you—”

“This isn’t about whether or not you blame me,” Toshinori told him wearily. “This is about whether I blame me.” His fingers tightened into fists. “And I do, my boy. No matter what you or anyone else tells me, I do.”

“Well, you shouldn’t. You weren’t involved—”

“Of course I was.” Toshinori kept a tight leash on his tone. “I’ve been involved from the start, I just didn’t know about it.” He shook his head. “I’m under no illusions, my boy, I know I can’t save everyone—I knew that even in my prime. But this—this was someone who hurt you because of me. And I could have helped—I could have stopped it, if I’d known, but I didn’t. You needed help and I couldn’t give that to you, and that—” He turned to his student once more, and found the boy’s eyes shining wetly, but not spilling over. “It’s not a fraction of what I know you must have felt—what you must still feel—but that hurts me. It hurts that I didn’t help you. That no one helped you. And even when it was blowing up right in front of me, between you and my s—and my other student, I didn’t see it for what it was.” He took a deep, shaking breath. “And I’m glad that you don’t blame me. I’m grateful. But… please, my boy.” After a moment, he managed a sorrowful smile. “Let me take responsibility for my part in this, won’t you?”

Todoroki held his gaze, blinking rapidly, and finally nodded. He looked away, still blinking, and turned his head away from Toshinori as he reached up to wipe quickly at his eyes.

With a sigh, Toshinori shifted closer on the couch, leaned over, and pulled the boy into a hug.

He felt Todoroki stiffen for a moment, and thought the boy might pull away, or at best sit still and endure it. But instead, his student relaxed, and a moment later he felt the hug returned.

“I want you to know.” Todoroki’s voice was muffled. “I wasn’t waiting for you. Ever. I never wondered why you didn’t come save me. So you didn’t let me down.” The boy’s arms tightened, but he was careful not to touch Toshinori’s injury. “People have let me down before, but you haven’t. Not once.”

All of Toshinori wanted to disbelieve him, because of course he did. Of course he let his student down. Of course he let everyone down. But that wasn’t up to him to decide, was it? So perhaps, just this once, he could let himself believe it. “And I swear to you, Shouto,” he whispered, as tears welled up and fell with no one to see them. “I never will.”