#the sad thing is that if grace did this she would be attacked for ‘writing fanfiction’

[discoscoob]

Everyone wants to be shipped with Eddie

[percyluvr]

heyyyy, so i was wondering if you were feeling up to it if you could write a jason grace x poseidon!reader. it’s basically like a scene from where they just began the journey on the argo and percy, being the slow and loveble older brother he is, finds out jason is dating his little sister and some silly chaos ensues at the dinner table

jason grace x daughter of poseidon!reader summary: your boyfriend and your brother have issues at first, but bond over the fact that they both love you with all their hearts wc: 1199

You and Jason had been dating since he'd appeared randomly at camp with Leo and Piper. You had been so devastated over the disappearance of your brother, and Jason had been struck by your beauty. He did everything in his power to help you feel better, and during the process, the two of you had fallen deeply in love.

Every now and then you thought about Percy and what he would think of your new boyfriend, and you would be sad all over again, but Jason never failed to make you feel better. Jason Grace was the ideal boyfriend, you thought, and he proved it more and more every single day that the two of you were together.

When the Argo II was built, and the lost trio was ready to head off to New Rome, Jason was the one that suggested you come with to see if your brother was there. The suggestion just further proved what a wonderful person and boyfriend he was, and you accepted the offer.

Your voyage to New Rome held lots of good memories and fun, but the closer the ship got to New Rome, the more worried you were that your brother wouldn't be there, even if it was almost 100% guaranteed that he would be. You didn't think you could handle it if you lost another person, especially your brother who'd been there for you your entire life. He protected you when the two of you first arrived to camp, even though he was scared out of his mind, and he protected you and comforted you when your mother had gotten turned into dust by the minotaur, even though he was just as devastated by the loss of her. The two of you shared so many memories together and thinking of them only made you sadder when you realized how long it had been since you last saw him.

The Argo II arrived in New Rome, and you all had a peculiar interaction with a certain talking limbless statue. Once the situation was handled, the Argo II hovered over Camp Jupiter, and everyone other than Coach Hedge warily got out of the ship, not quite sure what the Romans' reactions would be, even Jason who was a Roman himself.

When you reached the ground, your eyes searched the crowd for the familiar green eyes and black hair of your brother, and when you finally found him, you saw Annabeth rushing over to him. When she flipped him onto the ground, it brought a smile to your face. Their relationship was the most beautiful thing you'd seen in your life, and it made you so proud to see your brother happy.

With Jason's arm around your waist, you waited until Annabeth and Percy parted, before sprinting over to Percy and jumping into his arms. To say he was surprised was an understatement. You and Annabeth had been the only people he remembered when Hera wiped his memories, and seeing you after so long made him beyond happy.

His arms gripped you tightly as he whispered in your ear. "I can't even explain how happy I am to see you. How is mom?" He asks almost immediately.

"Mom is good, she's really good. So is Paul. But how are you?"

"I'm good, now that I've got two of my favorite girls with me again," he jokes, earning a smack on each arm from you and Annabeth.

It felt good to be able to joke around with your older brother again, almost too good to be true. Apparently it was too good to be true, because after an attack is fired from the Argo II, all of you have to rush up the ladder and get out of there as quick as possible. You grab Percy's hand tightly, his gripping yours impossibly tighter. Neither of you could stand to lose each other again.

Aboard the ship, tensions were high. Even if you weren't Percy's sister and hadn't been around him your whole life, you would still be able to tell how pissed off he was that this happened. When Leo confessed to him firing the attack, you and Annabeth had to hold Percy from pouncing on Leo. You understood where he was coming from, though. Imagine working this hard to make the Romans see that the Greeks weren't so bad, and then some guy you don't even know fires an attack on the camp and you're back at zero. You'd be pissed off too.

When dinner time rolled around, Percy had been much calmer. The atmosphere had lightened up, at least until both your brother and your boyfriend went to sit in the same seat at the head of the table. They stared intensely at each other until everyone decided that Annabeth should sit at the head of the table.

You thought the problem had ended there, but both of them tried to sit on the chair to your left. Percy looked at him with a strange expression, probably a mix of confusion and annoyance at this point.

"Dude, really? What's your problem?" Percy asks, crossing his arms.

"I just want to sit here, not a big deal," Jason replies.

Percy raises his eyebrow. "Well, I want to sit next to my sister, and there's only one chair open next to her."

You looked at Piper, who was sitting to your right, and she took the hint. She got up and moved to the other side of the table.

"Guys, please. Just sit down already, it's not a big deal," you say exasperatedly.

Percy eyes you and Jason skeptically, but takes the chair to your right anyway. He seemed to lighten up due to the fact that he was now sitting between his girlfriend and his sister.

Dinner was going fine, until Percy spots your hand intertwined with Jason's under the table.

"Soo, anything new in your life you want to tell me about?" He asks you, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Um, no. I mean other than Jason, Leo, and Piper showing up, not really."

"So, no new guys that like you? No new crushes?"

You finally understand what he's trying to do, and sigh loudly.

"Yes, Percy. Jason and I are dating, is there a point to this?"

He just grins in response and moves his gaze to Jason. "You better treat her right man, or I'll have to whoop you," he semi-jokes.

Jason raises his eyebrow. "Yeah, sure. You could whoop me if we were on a beach, maybe," he jokes back.

"Nah, I could take you any day of the week, beach or no beach. I'd whoop your ass with just my fists."

This makes everyone at the table laugh.

"Nah, but seriously man. I'll take care of her. I really like her, and I'd never even think about treating her wrong," Jason says seriously.

Percy smiles at him. "I'll hold you to that."

Jason brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses it, making everyone at the table fake gag.

"Oh shut up, you're all just jealous," you say, smiling the widest you had in a while.

You finally had your brother back, and he seemed to like your boyfriend.

a/n: y'all i am so sorry for not posting anything in almost a week lmfao i got my tooth pulled and i've been suffering all week

[mirkwoodshewolf]

First heartache is hard; Jack Kline x reader

*Author's note*

Well this only took me two days to write which I do like when I can easily write a story that fast hehehe so @gabrielasilva1510 here is your ANGSTY Jack Kline request.

Warning: MAJOR ANGST, Character death, NO FLUFF AT ALL ONLY HURT, blood, violence (this is supernatural afterall so SPN level of violence). Basically get your tissues ready cause this is a sad one.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

___________________________________________________________

Jack stood outside in the cold night after a long training session with Bobby.  Now that his grace was gone, he had to build up his strength mortally, which meant getting punched and falling down a lot, and getting hurt whilst getting beaten down.  He thought he had felt powerless before, but his mind always went back to what happened that night at the church.  The moment he truly felt powerless.

The night he had lost you.

*Flashback*

Bobby, Mary and (Y/n) stood in the main lobby of the bunker still debating about who in the world would wanna kill Maggie.  After questioning all the hunters from the apocalypse world, they decided that none of them had any motive to hurt her, and that maybe it was just some creep or psycho looking to murder and innocent girl in the woods.

“I mean it’s not uncommon. That’s what happened to my mom’s sister once when they were younger. Some bastard slit her throat, raped her, and dumped her body over the bridge. That’s when I learned that there are more monsters in humanity than there are in the supernatural sense.” (Y/n) said.

“She’s not wrong.” Mary said supporting (Y/n’s) statement.  As Bobby nodded, they soon heard footsteps and that’s when they saw Jack.

“Oh Jack.” (Y/n) sighed with relief but before she could race up to hug him, they were horrified to see Lucifer coming up behind him.

“Hey~” Lucifer greeted with a small wave.

“Kid, what in the sam hell is—?!” demanded Bobby but Jack interrupted him.

“It’s okay. He’s here to help.”

“Him!?” (Y/n) asked exasperatedly.

“Yeah tigress, me.” Lucifer said booping her nose to which she cringed and slapped his arm away from her.  “Okay touchy-touchy Ms. Temper pants.” He said walking away following his son to where Maggie lay dead.

“Call Sam now!” Mary whispered urgently to Bobby as she and (Y/n) followed Lucifer and Jack while Bobby made a call to the boys.

“So you’re leaving dead bodies on tables now? Nice.” questioned Lucifer.

“We were waiting to give her a hunter’s funeral.” (Y/n) said.

“You won’t have to. My father he’s going to bring Maggie back to life.”

“Jack what are you doing?” asked Mary.

“What I have to do. This is my second chance.” Jack answered.

“Jack,” (Y/n) started.  “What happened to Maggie was a horrible thing that never should’ve happened. But it was beyond your control. You couldn’t have known when or where she’d be attacked and murdered.”

“But I promised her I’d keep her safe. All of them.”

“There are some things that you can’t prevent Jack.”

“I’d listen to your little girlfriend son. Plus this whole resurrection thing is kinda tricky. People don’t often come back as themselves.”

“Sam didn’t.” Said Jack.

“Yeah well Sam’s always been a little—in the head to begin with.”

“And like you’re not?” sassed (Y/n).  Lucifer snide at her comment.

“You said you’d do anything.” Jack told him.  The intense look in his eyes soon made Lucifer relent and he did what Jack said he’d do.  Placing his hand on Maggie’s forehead, his eyes glowed red and suddenly Maggie shot up gasping for air.  Immediately, (Y/n) grabbed Jack’s hand and took him out of the room and they came into the kitchen.

“(Y/n) what—”

“What deal did he offer you?” she interrupted him.

“What?”

“Back there, when you told him that he’d do anything you’d ask. What was the deal he offered you?” Jack looked at the harsh stare of her (e/c) eyes and told her.

“We’re gonna see the galaxy together. Like in Star Wars. But I said I’d only go if he helped bring Maggie back.” (Y/n) looked at Jack in shock.

“What? You’re going with him?”

“Well not just me,” Jack stepped forward and took both of her hands into his, gently stroking the back of her knuckles.  “I also said I wanted you to come along too. You always said you wanted to see the stars up close.”

“Jack I—” (Y/n) was a mixture of emotions.  Horror, shock, perplexed, torn, and upset.  “Lucifer he’s…..I can’t.”

“Why not?” Jack asked.

“Jack, there’s nothing in this world that I would like more than to explore the galaxy with you, but with Lucifer tagging along. Something doesn’t sit right with me.”

“He’s changed. He really wants to try (Y/n). Would the old Lucifer have offered you to come along with us?”

“I know that no matter old or new Lucifer, whatever he claims to be now, he’s always gets something out of his deals. And if he doesn’t, he’ll take it anyways.” Jack dropped (Y/n)’s hands, his chest rising and falling as he tried to control his anger.

“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?!”

“Jack I have always been happy for you! Looking out for you! Besides Cas and Sam, I’ve always been the one that’s always in your corner! But you can’t trust what Lucifer says! Believe me I know.”

“Oooo, did I come at a bad time?” Lucifer’s voice spoke out as he peeked his head from the kitchen door before walking inside.

“Get out!” demanded (Y/n).

“I’ll admit son, you at least picked one with fire in her.”

“How the hell did you get back here!?” snapped (Y/n).

“Does it really matter?”

“Let me think, yes it does! Now quit stalling and tell him what you’re really here for!”

“What I’m—listen (n/n) I already told him. I want to take my son to see the galaxies, the stars, hell the entire universe itself. I’m done playing second fiddle to pops and his game. I wanna be removed from the chess board completely and not have to worry about anything than showing my son the wonders of the universe. With you of course by his side if you choose to go.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with you if my life depended on it!” (Y/n) snarled with a sneer.  Lucifer shrugged.

“Alright well, there’s no changing your mind. Let’s bounce son.” Jack slowly walked towards him but (Y/n) grabbed his hand and pleaded to him.

“Jack please, don’t go with him. He’s using you.”

“Would you mind stop gaslighting my own son against me? Geez that’s the thing with you women sometimes, especially teenage girls.”

“Jack. Jack please.” Jack turned to her and said.

“He’s my father.” (Y/n) stood there stunned and released his hand and watched hopelessly as the two of them vanished from the kitchen.

“(Y/n)!? (Y/n)!!” soon Bobby came in and he looked around and asked, “Where’s the kid?” (Y/n) buried her face into her hands and wept.  Bobby then walked up and awkwardly wrapped his arms around the weeping girl before bringing her back to rejoin Mary and the newly resurrected Maggie.

When the brothers and Cas returned, they had told that Michael had also somehow managed to come into this world along with Lucifer.  That to (Y/n) struck a chord in how Lucifer must surely been planning something.  There’s absolutely no chance that those two archangels would willingly team-up to escape apocalypse world.  And with Maggie’s death it—it can’t be a coincidence.  She stood up and walked off.

“Uhh (Y/n) where are you going?” asked Dean.

“To talk to Maggie.” Sam immediately took off and stopped her and he said to her, “Hey, hey relax okay? Look mom told us what happened and to interrogate her now while she’s still trying to wrap her mind about being resurrected it—”

“I know Sam. You Winchesters aren’t the only ones to have been resurrected. But I have to know just who killed her. This all is one too big coincidence for them to have come back and Maggie ends up dead the same day they both come through their own rift.”

“You think it was one of them that killed Maggie?”

“Like I said, it’s a hunch but it’s too big of one to ignore.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“You just want to keep an eye on me because of my impatience.” She snapped accusingly.

“That and I also want to find out the truth. Hey,” Sam could sense the anxiety running through (Y/n)’s body about Jack.  “We’re gonna find him.”

“He’s…..” (Y/n) trailed off before confessing her deep secret.  “He’s my best friend. I—I can’t lose him.”

“We won’t. We’ve got everyone looking for them. Now let’s go see about your hunch.” Sam and her walked to where Maggie was sitting in the library trying to process everything that had just happened. “Maggie?” Sam broke her silence as she slightly jumped and turned her attention to Sam who sat down beside her at the table that was once her deathbed.  “Hey, sorry. You okay?”

“I’m alive so…..yes.” she replied.

“Right. So listen, we know this is all weird right now but uhh…..before you died, do you remember anything about the person that killed you?”

“Does it really matter? I mean don’t you guys have a lot bigger Satan-y stuff to deal with right now?”

“Yes but it’s getting handled. For now, just answer Sam’s question.” (Y/n) said.  Maggie took a deep breath in before saying.

“I—never saw his face. But…..I saw his eyes.”

“His eyes?” asked Sam.  Maggie nodded.

“They were—unlike anything I had seen before. Those bleeding red, glowing eyes.” Once they heard that, both Sam and (Y/n) looked at each other in shock.

“I knew it!” (Y/n) muttered under her breath but at that moment, a sudden loud boom sounded off from outside.  It almost sounded like a firework or a bomb had went off close by, then the lights began flickering on and off.  The three of them went to rejoin Dean and the others as the front doors of the bunker began to jostle and bang loudly, like someone was trying to break in. “Ahhh shit.” (Y/n) said under her breath.

“Mom, Bobby, take Maggie out of here through the garage.” Sam said.

“We’ll buy you some time.” Dean said.

“What no!?” Mary said but Sam told her not to argue and soon Bobby had to drag her and Maggie out of the room to make their escape.  (Y/n) came and stood beside Cas who put an arm around her as the doors continue to jostle and the banging grew louder.  The two of them took out their blades as Sam and Dean readied their guns.

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally caved in and fell with a bang as a bright light shone through the bunker.  And soon walking in with his head held high was Michael.  Immediately Sam and Dean began to open fire at the archangel but being what Michael was, the bullets had absolutely no affect on him.  The archangel slowly levitated himself down to the floor from the catwalk entrance and Cas made the first attack with his angel blade.

But Michael easily overpowered Cas and had him flying over the table and across the room, knocking him unconscious.  (Y/n) took out her curved scythes and slashed at Michael.  He dodged each attack until he grabbed (Y/n)’s left wrist and disarmed her before breaking her arm.  She let out an agonizing scream before Michael palm-strike her straight at her chest, sending her flying and slamming into the wall.

“You really thought you could run from me?” sneered Michael.  Sam immediately went on the attack after (Y/n) had been injured but Michael easily overpowered him as well as Dean who more than anyone, put up a fight towards Michael.  But the archangel soon had Dean by the throat.

“How did you—” Dean started to say but Michael interrupted him.

“Get here? Easy. I made a deal. And now this world is mine, I can save it, purge it of sin.”

“Yeah cause that really worked out on your rock.”

“Well I’m not perfect. And yes I made mistakes, but hey second times the charm.” As (Y/n) cradled her broken arm she muttered under her breath in prayer.

“Jack. Jack I don’t know if you’ll even hear this prayer but—we need you. He’s here……Michael is here. Please, help us. He’s gonna kill us.” As Michael and Dean continued to talk back and forth of each other until Michael squeezed Dean’s throat even harder almost to the point where his bones could be heard snapping (but not enough to kill him).

As Dean was starting to slip away under Michael’s grip, the archangel was suddenly thrown back against a pillar by a familiar golden aura of power.  Dean let out a loud intake of air and coughed harshly.  Everyone looked up to see that Jack had come back.

“Jack.” Sam said as he was finally able to stand up.

“I heard your prayers.” Jack only turned to look at (Y/n) and when he had seen the woman he secretly loved hurt, rage slowly began to simmer within him.

“Yeah it’s me, yay. Uhh we done yet buddy?” Lucifer also said as he had appeared behind Jack.  He then tried to get Jack to leave now that Michael had been subdued, but it wasn’t enough for Jack.

First thing he did was walk up to (Y/n), knelt down beside her and healed her broken arm thanks to the teaching he learned from Cas.

“You okay?” he softly asked as he cupped her left cheek.

“For now.” Jack softly smiled but his soft side melted away as anger and rage now consumed him as he turned his attention to Michael.  His eyes glowed as he raised his hand up and slowly walked towards Michael and said angrily.

“You hurt my friends.” Michael let out a pained groan as he hunched forward, almost as if something were burning him from the inside out.  “You hurt my family!” Jack soon yelled as Michael screamed and felt his insides being crushed.  “You hurt (Y/N)!!” as he clenched his hand into a fist now, Michael’s vessel started to bleed from his eyes and his ears.

Everyone, including Lucifer stood there in shock at just how much power Jack held.

“LUCIFER WE HAD A DEAL!!” Michael exclaimed as he slid down to the ground in pain.

“Okay, game over. Hey buddy let’s….let’s split.” Lucifer said with a snap of his fingers wanting to lead Jack away.

“What does he mean?” Jack asked as he turned to his father.  Lucifer began stammering almost trying to play dumb but Dean soon said.

“They had a deal.” Jack then turned to Dean as he continued, “Lucifer gets you, and Michael gets everything else. He’s gonna nuke our world, Jack. Just like he did his.”

“Is this true?” Jack asked his father.

“No! It’s not.”

“Is that why you wanted us to leave? And why you knew (Y/n) wouldn’t come with?”

“Leave? (Y/n) what do you know about this?” Sam asked her.

“Lucifer told him they were going to see the stars. Then Jack said he’d only go with his dad if I got to go with them. But I refused because Lucifer would be the main tag along.”

“What you were just gonna leave the rest of us to burn?” Cas said as he was finally able to stand up after his fight with Michael.

“Okay, okay let’s slow down for a second. Are we forgetting who the real bad guy is?”

“Yeah trying telling that to Maggie dumbass.” (Y/n) snapped.

“What about Maggie?” Jack asked with a crack in his voice.

“You know you’ve done some dumb things Lucifer but even you must’ve known this would turn and bite you in the ass. Jack, Maggie saw the eyes of her killer. The glowing red eyes. Which angel amongst us has eyes like that?”

“Oh come on! Jack are you really gonna believe this girl!? (Y/n) is a hater she’d say anything to get you on their side!” Lucifer tried to point (Y/n) as the bad guy but Jack wouldn’t believe his father over her again, not after the brief pain it had caused him after they had left her behind.

“Tell me the truth!” Jack demanded as his eyes glowed and he held out his hand towards his own father.  Using his powers, he controlled Lucifer’s mind and made him verbally confess how and why he killed Maggie.  He also admitted to how much he enjoyed it.  When Jack released him, he shook his head before saying, “You’re not my father, you’re a monster.”

Lucifer’s impatience was boiling to a head until he finally let out his rage in a powerful scream as he revealed his glowing red eyes.  The scream of the devil shook the entire bunker and the Winchesters and (Y/n) had no choice but to cover their ears less their eardrums explode out of their ears.

“Okay…..I tried with you. I really, really tried with you.”

“Everything you told me was a lie.”

“Because I told you what you wanted to hear man! So what I killed the girl? Big deal! She’s just a human she doesn’t matter!”

“So am I!” Jack snapped.

“Yeah, and that’s your problem. You’re too much like your mother.”

“Jack.” Cas said as he, Sam and (Y/n) started to surround the two of them ready to attack, but Jack told them to stand back and that he’ll handle him.

“Oh yeah? Oh buddy, we could’ve been something you and me. We could’ve remade the universe. We could’ve been better Gods than dad. And I really wanted pal, I wanted that but now—if I can’t have it with you well….I don’t need you. I just need your power.” Suddenly Lucifer used an archangel blade and sliced a small cut on Jack’s throat and began absorbing his grace.

“NO!!!” Cas and (Y/n) cried out.  Once Lucifer had absorbed all of Jack’s grace, he healed the cut on his son’s neck and felt ultimate power surging through him.  Lucifer’s eyes briefly glowed the golden color of Jack’s powers and immediately (Y/n) leapt towards them and with a flash of light, the three of them were gone.

The next thing (Y/n) knew, she fell down to the floor and looked around to see that they had appeared at a small church.

“Really (Y/n)? Hitching a ride, you know you’re taking the term ‘clingy girlfriend’ to a whole new level.”

“Go to fucking hell!” she snarled through her teeth.

“Yeah, yeah been there done that.” Lucifer released his grip on his son and kicked (Y/n) square in the face sending her on her back to the floor.  She briefly rolled across the floor and as she tried to sit up, Lucifer kicked her hard in the ribs.  She let out a groan as she went for her scythe then just as Lucifer was about to stomp on her chest, she slashed his leg.

Being that the material was made of melted angel blades, it managed to cause him pain but not enough to kill him.  She backward rolled and twirled the scythe in her hand as she glared up at the devil.

“I’ll admit, you always were the more fearsome fighter out of the brothers.”

“Growing up alone on the streets of West Philly teaches you a thing or two.” She spat out some blood as she took out her other scythe.  She then charged at the devil, slashing at any chance she got but Lucifer was toying with her as he dodged every single attack that came her way.  After toying with her, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it forcing her to drop her left one first before punching her in the face repeatedly.

Every blow sounded off a broken bone on her face or nose until her mouth and nose were covered in blood.  He then took her by the throat and lifted her up.

“But you’re still human. And humans break easily. Shame though, you could’ve made at least a slightly decent daughter-in-law. But you know, I can always make more and there might be another one like you out there somewhere.” Lucifer then took her right scythe out of her hand and admired it.  “Been nice knowing you tigress.” Then he swung the scythe across her stomach.

Jack who had slowly regained consciousness after losing his grace, woke up to see the woman he loved being held by the throat and saw as his own father kill her with her own weapon.

“NOOOOO!!!” Jack cried out.  Lucifer turned and said.

“Oh good you’re awake.” He then dropped (Y/n) like a ragdoll and as she began to bleed profusely all across her stomach, her body already going into shock at the amount of blood that was already seeping out of her body.

“You—you killed her?”

“Like I said, she’s just a human. There’s dozens more out there like her, but if you’d like, I can let you join her. Classic Romeo and Juliet fashion.” But before Lucifer could do anything, a bright angelic light shone throughout the church and standing there was Dean with Sam close behind him.  The shadow of angel wings coming out from Dean who had accepted Michael as his vessel.

While Dean and Lucifer talked and fought each other, Sam quickly raced over to (Y/n) after seeing her on the ground in her own blood.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)? Hey, just hang on, keep your eyes open for me okay sweetheart?” Jack came beside her and grabbed her hands.

“I’m sorry (Y/n). I’m so, so, so sorry. I should’ve believed you this is all my fault I-I’m so sorry.”

“Not…….your……f-fa…..” (Y/n) choked out but Sam interrupted her.

“Hey, hey shhh save your strength okay? Jack, take off your jacket and put it on her stomach okay? We have to keep pressure on her wound.”

“It’s—it’s too……” weakly (Y/n) stopped Jack who looked down at her with tears in his eyes.

“No. (Y/n) we’re going to save you. Please let me save you!!”

“You—already…..did.” soon a bright light and a cry of pain echoed throughout the church and as Dean fell to the ground, they watched as Lucifer’s light was extinguished and he lay there dead.

Lucifer was finally dead.

“Is he?” Sam started to ask, almost not believing it to be true.

“He’s dead.” Jack said.  The brothers and Jack couldn’t believe it, finally after all this time Lucifer was finally dead.  Not sealed in the cage, truly dead.

“Dean, you did it.” Sam said.

“No. No man we did it.”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) did you hear that he’s really….” Jack said as he looked down, but something wasn’t right.  Her eyes were still open but there was no life to them, the soft smile was still upon her face but she was as stiff as a board.  “(Y/n)? (Y/n)?” tears began to fill his eyes.  “No, no, no, no, no, no please no!”

“Dean!” Knowing he had Michael’s power, he thought for sure he could heal the wound but just before Dean could make a step, he lurched forward in pain groaning.  “DEAN!!”

“WE HAD A DEAL!!!” Dean cried out before he too went still for a moment.

“Dean?” Sam called his brother again.  Dean rose up but his posture and the look in his eyes were different.  Dean looked around before saying.

“Thanks for the suit.” And then he disappeared, leaving Sam and Jack alone with (Y/n)’s corpse.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) please wake up! Don’t go please you can’t die!” Jack cried out.

“Jack…..” Sam trailed off.

“There’s hospitals. Human doctors can save her right!? Sam please call them!”

“It wouldn’t do any good. I’m sorry Jack, she’s gone.”

“No she can’t be gone!” Jack picked up (Y/n)’s body and wept into her neck, pleading and begging to anyone above to save her as he wept into her cold neck.

After sending a prayer to Cas about what had happened, Cas found them and brought them back to the bunker so that they could give (Y/n) a proper hunter’s funeral.  As she lay there on the table moments before she would be wrapped up, Jack stood over her utterly broken and lost.

The only thing he could do was lean down and kiss her cold blue lips.  Deep down he had hoped that true love’s kiss would awaken her, just like all those Disney movies and fairytales she had shown him could do.  But this was no fairytale, nor was there a happy ending for them.

“Jack,” Cas voice spoke gently to the grieving young man.  “It’s time.” Jack sniffled and he said.

“I’ll prepare her.” Cas nodded and left Jack to do all the prepping alone.  Once he was done, he carried the wrapped up body of the woman he loved in his arms towards her funeral pyre.  He set the body down on the wood and watched brokenly as the hunters doused her body in gasoline before Sam was the one to light the fuse and burn her body.

As they all watched (Y/n)’s clothed body burst into flames, Jack had no more tears left to spent, but his heart continued to ache him and he would soon be the only one to remain at her pyre even after all the other hunters went back to work to search for Michael.

*End of flashback*

“Jack?” he heard Sam’s voice say.  He felt as Sam came up and stood beside him.  “You okay?”

“As fine as I can be.” Jack said monotonously.

“Look Jack, I know it’s difficult without your grace. But Bobby said you’re really improving and soon you’ll—”

“It’s not that.” Sam looked perplexed for a moment but then realized what he meant.

“Oh.” Jack nodded softly and turned to look back up at the stars.  “Yeah, I miss her too.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“Jack, you can’t blame yourself for what happened. And (Y/n) would sure as hell wouldn’t want you thinking like that.”

“But I—”

“She wouldn’t have done what she did, if you weren’t worth saving. She’s had a rough life before we found her. Trust me.” Jack sniffled and wiped away his tears.

“It hurts so much Sam. My heart it—it’s like…..a werewolf had taken it, tore it apart slowly and then put it back in my chest with no way to fix it. Why? Why does it hurt so much?!” Jack gripped his chest as he lowered his head and sobbed.  Sam cautiously reached out and brought the young Nephilim to his chest, resting his head on top of his.

“I know what you mean Jack. Long ago when I thought I had finally gotten out of the hunter’s life, I found a girl I had fallen for. Jessica, oh she was a force of nature. And—I was gonna eventually ask her to marry me. Once I had finished law school and everything. But when I came back she—it tore me apart too. I went through the exact same heartache you’re going through now. It’s tough losing the woman you love.”

“I never—even got to tell her.” Jack whimpered.

“She knows. Believe me, women like her and Jess, they always know. And it’s also probably why she did what she did.”

“How do you do it Sam?” the two of them looked at each other as Jack whimpered brokenly as a few tears slipped down his face, “How do you continue to live when they’re gone?”

“One day at a time Jack. One day at a time.” Sam brought Jack’s head back over his heart and rocked the young man comfortingly as Sam let a few tears of his own slip out, also mourning for the loss of the young woman whom he called sister for so many years.

[rudikawhy]

Just some thoughts after watching Mission:Impossible - Dead Reckoning, Part 1 tonight...

***SPOILERS***

Okay, first of all: I absolutely LOVED it! Like the whole movie and I know that I will watch it multiple times in the cinema. I mean, yes, it was exciting, of course, it's M:I, but also really funny. My friend and I had to try so hard sometimes not to laugh out too loud. The car race? Amazing. Probably because I love car races in movies in general (even though I am always sorry for all the innocent cars and other things that get destroyed), there are always many funny one-liners, this time no exception.

But let me come to the point that is the reason why I'm writing this. Ilsa. My beloved. I have so many questions (Why the eye patch in the beginning?, for example) but first: No, you can't tell me you're really FUCKING dead!! There were a lot of reasons why I wasn't really, really sad when she "died". One was because so many things were happening immediately after that, there was no time to be sad, even for the audience. Another is; I don't really believe she's dead. I was always half expecting she'd appear in the next second. Like Paris. Apparently, she's not really dead either. And now I have one year, in which I can keep on believing she's still alive.

I mean, I finally get a few (very few) beautiful Ilsa/Ethan moments (this hug, when she realised it's Ethan in the dessert!! was my favorite because unexpected, because not in the trailer, iirc; but also the little looks they give each other), and then this happens!! AHHH. I'm sorry, I just can't handle this Ilsa-loss

Even though it meant less Ilsa, I was positively surprised by Grace. When the movie was promoted and Hayley Atwell seemed more important than Rebecca Ferguson, I was seriously disappointed, partly upset. But Ilsa aside, was Grace actually a really good character. She made me laugh, I didn't want her to die (nor Ilsa), and I the end in the train I wasn't just concerned about Ethan but also about her.

What I did realize was that Grace is kind of like Ilsa was in the beginning. Or at least similar. I realized it when Grace wanted to leave the party, was attacked by two men, and Ethan came to help her. The moment she was free and the men fought with Ethan, she left the scene instead of now helping Ethan. I feel like this is something Rogue-Nation-Ilsa would have done too.

I'm glad that Benji had his bomb defusing scene. When he's under pressure he often has funny lines, and while I know that Benji isn't just there for the funny lines, I appreciate and love them. Also I love that we had multiple (at least two??) times when Benji gave Ethan directions while Ethan ran/drove. My immediate comparison was "like in MI3", one of Benjis first actions, but then I realized that he also does it in Fallout, and it's even more iconic there.

I was seriously confused by Paris. It's probably due to something I missed at one point, but like, what does she even do (aside from having too much fun when driving a car that is too big through streets that are too small, with the intention of apparently killing two people in a yellow Fiat 500, while looking like a maniac)?? I really didn't get it.

Okay, I would love to say more about Ilsa but also about everyone and everything else, maybe another time, I need to sleep...

[fullscoreshenanigans]

have you some fanfic ideas about Isabella and Ray?

Something thatr you plan to write one day.

Mine are largely “what if Isabella didn’t die in the manner she did and was able to interact with the Grace Field kids again when they aren’t pressed for time,” with one being she manages to survive her wounds in canon and makes it to the human world alongside them.

A favorite is one that has lived rent-free in my mind since S2 teased it in episode 4 is a canon divergent AU where Isabella pursues the escapees, supposedly being offered her freedom in exchange for capturing and returning all fifteen of them unharmed.

Absolute worst thing they could have done; why tease me with something so tantalizing, especially with how lackluster to offensive the rest of the episode is.

It’s a bit different from the anime though in that she’s accompanying Andrew in the raid as opposed to leading it herself. There’s also the difference of Lucas and Yuugo surviving it.

It’s the embodiment of this image

Born from one main thing I would have loved to see in canon and something I can never get enough of in fanworks: I wanted to see the Grace Field escapees talk about Isabella and all the trauma she put them through, and all the conflicting feelings that came out of the many years they shared at Grace Field in light of that.

And because it’s me, there’s a reveal of Ray being her biological son in the midst of the raid, which I like because in the chaos of everything else it registers, but it doesn’t really sink in until after they’ve managed to escape into the tunnels Sonju made like in canon. Plus, I wouldn’t want to take away from the rest of the children’s inner turmoil over Isabella’s reappearance. She was the only mother they ever knew, and I do entirely understand why people prioritize Ray in these reveal situations, but he never brings up their connection once in canon, for similar reasons to why he never explicitly states how watching his siblings get shipped out made him feel until he’s in a manic state, working himself up into a frenzy so he can go through with his suicide: he absolutely loathes pity for what he believes he willingly brought upon himself (never mind the desolate circumstances under which he made the deal with Isabella). Any pain he feels from that is penance for his actions and choices. He would never prioritize this internal conflict going on inside him over the anger, fear, and sadness his siblings are going through, even if once things have settled down and they have a moment to themselves he can’t bring himself to speak up and comfort them along with Emma, Don, and Gilda until he’s prompted by Jemima.

Other bits of this AU: • The raid happens in October 2046 instead of October 2047. I thought almost two years of Isabella being imprisoned was too long, plus I wanted this to occur before Lambda is destroyed in February 2047 and before the Seven Walls search party has fully explored the demon world and found out how to enter them. The initial expedition to the East is cut short because the group has found a lead they want to confirm and discuss with the rest of their family, conveniently finding them back at the bunker when the raid takes place. • The incorporation of the Minerva demon supporters Shirai mentions in the mystic code book.

Them approaching Isabella during the months she’s kept locked up in order to ensure the children escape whatever attack Grace Field HQ has planned for them is the reason she agrees to pursue them when Grandma and the farm boss demon offer her the chance. This also brings all the children into contact with amiable ally demons, not just the Grace Field kids with Sonju and Mujika or the Seven Walls search party hanging out in demon towns, giving them an “in” into demon history, culture, and geopolitics, as well as insight into James’ life and the upper levels of farm system since Isabella doesn’t become Grandma. On one side of the spectrum are the Grace Field escapees, who are the most open to working with them, and on the other side are Norman and the Lambda escapees, who are the most reluctant and hostile toward the idea. There’s a range of unique opinions among them, but these are the general groupings. (Goldy Pond escapees initially occupy the Lambda stance, but by the time the Lambda children arrive on the scene they’re more amiable toward demons.) • Andrew is assisting Isabella in capturing the children, but with the visceral disdain he feels toward the cattle children he’s operating under his own agenda of killing all of the Goldy Pond escapees once they’re located, eventually shifting to killing Emma once she makes it apparent she plans on overthrowing the entire world order and hierarchy that gave him purpose and a feeling of superiority. • A scene between Yuugo and Anna that isn’t used to push a ship. This is like the only time I ever see them interact in fancontent, and the majority of the time it’s used to push RA with Anna acting as a parallel to Dina and Ray to Yuugo. • Isabella, Lucas, and Yuugo interactions. Just want to see the adults interact lol • Don, Emma, Gilda, Norman, and Ray all go to the Seven Walls. • They miss the two-year deadline.

If you’re interested, here’s 7k’s worth of half-baked ramblings of a rough, unfinished outline that I’ve sent to @officersnickers and friends on discord who have been kind enough to indulge me on the subject:

~ ☆ ~

Don and Pepe are watching the monitors when they spot the group approaching the main entrance. They set off the silent alarm, not wanting to risk using the PA system to let the rest of the bunker know they’re under attack. The kids have practiced drills for this situation, so while the majority of them are launching into preparations to leave, Emma, Oliver, Ray, Sonya, Violet, Yuugo, and Zack all make their way to the security room to ascertain the situation. This group isn’t immediately blowing up the entrance way like Andrew’s group does in canon (since their priorities are different). It looks like they’re waiting for the go-ahead from someone. Don’s, Emma’s, and Ray’s blood runs cold when they see who appears to be in charge of the operation as Isabella makes her way into view of the camera. There’s the agonizing pull of taking every possible second to observe and predict what’s she’s going to do weighed against how preparation time they can afford to lose, not helped by how it seems like she isn’t making any moves other than conversing with someone who looks like they’re going over a list while another is fiddling with some electronics…but the demons in the group are going off in the directions of the emergency exits which can’t be a coincidence, so ultimately they decide to head out now to regroup with everyone else in the armory if they’re planning on boxing them in.

They all manage to make their way to the hiding spot by the time the fiddling with electronics leads to entrance being opened normally as opposed to blown off with explosives. Isabella makes her way to the monitor room as soldiers and demons slowly and methodically comb over the bunker because their priority is the capture all the Grace Field escapees alive. Any escapees from Goldy Pond captured alive are a bonus but can be sacrificed if it means securing the Grace Field escapees.

Isabella then sets out to do as she was instructed by headquarters: emotionally disarm her children and hinder their attempts to escape. She goes on the PA system to let the children know everything’s all right and that she’s here to take them home before moving on to address each Grace Field child individually. Starting with Alicia, the youngest, before moving up to the oldest, she recalls a precious memory or sentiment she has of them from their time at the house.

I haven’t thought of what each one of these memories/sentiments would be yet. For Thoma and Lanni, it might be something like how one of their pranks got out of hand, but the resolution was very sweet for how it brought the family together. For Nat, it might be how he struggled with playing a classical piece, but once he perfected it his performance mesmerized and brought tears to everyone’s eyes. For Don, it might be how attentive he was with his younger siblings, especially Conny (this ends up not having the exact intended effect and pisses Don off because Isabella was the one who was complacent with walking Conny to her death along with all the other 60-70 children she raised during her ten years as the mom of plant #3, but that anger isn’t fully articulated until later).

For Emma, it might be the strength she displayed during her last few months at Grace Field and especially during their final confrontation on the wall (I’m really :? about this one because the weight of these memories should be increasing with each child; naturally the younger kids aren’t going to have as many serious or weighty memories since they were young and didn’t have as many notable interactions with Isabella while knowing the secret of the house, so I’m still debating over what would be appropriate for Emma, but maybe something like that and how she proved to Isabella that escaping was possible, totally shattering Isabella’s delusion that becoming a mom was the best possible path forward and living a life of blissful, ignorant happiness was better than one of uncertain freedom)

And then we end with Ray, which I actually almost settled on the dialogue for: “When I heard you sing Leslie’s lullaby by the wall, I thought it was the cruelest twist the universe could play on me. But as time went on, I saw it as blessing to be able to raise the son who was taken from me the minute he was born.” And then maybe an additional line of “I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you the same childhood as your siblings.”

If they weren’t under such dire circumstances, Ray might lash out or vomit, because if this isn’t so fucking selfish of her, dumping this mix of truth and lies on them when there’s no option for them to respond in reciprocation or rejection. He’s noticed the factual errors in some of the memories, and he can’t (won’t) believe what she said to him is anything but a ploy, playing on all the times he let his mask slip the tiniest bit around her but especially when he was younger. Also, regardless of how accepting his friends and family of this information because it really is inconsequential to them who he’s biologically related to, her expressing these sentiments takes control of a situation away from him once again because he wasn’t ready or willing to discuss the subject yet.

He settles for biting the inside of his cheek until the taste of blood brings him out of his brief, blinding rage. Jemima feels him tense as he’s holding onto her.

Isabella reassures her children one last time that everything will be all right, and that they’ll all be reunited soon before the PA system goes silent.

At this point I defaulted to the kids settling on luring in as many intruders into the bunker as possible before enacting a defense protocol or something to make it explode, taking out as many enemies as possible so there’s less that will pursue them when they make a break for the forest. I have…not thought through how this would entirely work that would allow for Isabella to remain either unscathed or only with minor injuries when the place explodes lol, but regardless, everything comes together in that dramatic moment so there’s the climax of Ray’s relationship to Isabella being revealed to the rest of his family (because in the canon timeline I can’t see him ever bringing it up unless an external force prompts him to, we didn’t get the closure to this relationship that I wanted to see in manga, and this is my incredibly self-indulgent and dramatic AU, so putting all my favorite things in here lol) and no one can immediately talk about it or anything else going on because they have to get to safety, so it’s just left to simmer until hours later in the back of certain people’s minds.

I like the idea of Yuugo being injured while saving Ray during this raid because dammit, first it was Norman sacrificing his life so he could live instead, then Emma cut off her ear because he didn’t  cooperate with the escape plan she and Norman had set up, and now Yuugo’s hurt. He’s tired of having people he cares about being hurt all in the name of protecting him from his mother, someone who’s supposed to love him unconditionally but is instead doing all of this to prolong her own survival. I’m not sure how to work that in here exactly though lol.

They end up going to the same area they go to during this arc in the manga after that to rest for the night before they figure out what to do. Ray, Emma, Don, and Gilda all go to figure out how they’re going to do night watch rotations, but everyone in the GP resistance is like “no, you guys need to be there for the younger kids, we’ll cover the night watch” and also them implicitly saying to take time for themselves too because they know how conflicting the situation is for all of them. So all of the GF kids hang out in the little portion of the tunnel system that’s close enough to the rest of the group but will allow them to have privacy to talk about anything they want to and rest for the night. I default to either Mark or Rossi starting off the conversation after everyone gets settled enough for what remain of the night. Or maybe both of them start things off by apologizing because they feel like Isabella showing up is somehow their fault. Was inspired by specifically this section of evanescent’s always a riddle inside my head (aesop's kin):

They know about the things Isabella did to their family: how she gave away their siblings to the demons, how she purposely broke Emma’s leg, how she sent Krone away, and yet they would still find themselves missing her and longing for those times back at Grace Field. Emma, Don, Gilda, Anna, and Nat quickly reassure them that this isn’t the case because nothing that happened at Grace Field was their fault. Everyone starts discussing how what’s happened makes them feel: how they’re upset at losing their new home, how Mom had to come back and ruin what they had, but she remembered all those things about each of them (though some of them were off; she got the name of Nat’s song wrong, for starters) and it’s just… a mess for everyone. But Ray’s been quiet the entire time.

Emma wasn’t planning on broaching the subject of what Isabella had said to him until they were alone, but Jemima ends up doing it for her by asking, “Ray, are you ok?” Idk if I want to have each of the younger kids paired up with an older one for seating arrangements at this point so it’d go Ray-Jemima, Emma-Dominic and Rossi (or one of them’s with Thoma and Lanni), Gilda-Mark, Don-Chris, Anna-Alicia, Nat-Yvette, or if I want them more huddled closer together in one big group so that it’s more noticeable Ray’s off, but if they are paired up, Jemima picks up on Ray being quiet and tensing during the entire conversation because everyone is dealing with their own trauma and they’re not sure how to even touch upon Ray’s. But Ray just looks at Jemima with a sort of sad smile of acceptance and a gentle headpat and says, “Yeah, I’m okay. We found out when I was six, by accident.”

Don, Thoma, or Lanni wonders out loud how that happens by accident before one of the girls attempts to shush them, but Ray ends up elaborating anyway because now that the anger’s subsided about everything that’s happened, he’s just kind of tired like he was back at the house after Norman was shipped. Isabella makes him tired with their convoluted mess of a relationship, and he figures now that it’s out in the open, what’s there to lose if they might already think less of him or want to distance themselves for whatever reason, any is valid.

“Yeah, it was an accident. Moms aren’t supposed to raise their biological children, or if they do, they aren’t supposed to know about it. But someone at HQ thought it would be funny I suppose, or maybe it really was just random chance, but I was sent to plant #3. On my sixth birthday, or at least the birthday they gave me, I was pretty sure I knew what the workings of the house were. So I decided it was time to confirm if my hypothesis was correct. I took a tree branch, damaged my tracker, and waited to see what happened. I was pretty sure Mom would accept my deal, and with my scores I shouldn’t be shipped out… but I was also very scared. About all the things that could go wrong. So to soothe myself as I waited, I started humming a lullaby that I remembered my birth mother singing to me while I was in her womb.

“It took Mom almost five minutes to get to where I was sitting near the gate, and when she arrived, she just… had the most horrified expression on her face when she asked me how I knew that song.” He makes an attempt to scoff, but there’s no energy or bite behind it. “It’s kind of funny, in a pathetic kind of way. It was one of the only two times I was ever able to knock her off balance.

“And then it all clicked, and before I could stop myself I asked her, ‘Hey, Mom, why’d you give birth to me?’

“It took her a moment to recompose herself. Then she said, ‘Well, Ray, I did it to survive. Longer than anyone.’ The most important lesson she ever taught me.

“Thankfully I was able to stop myself from begging her to say she couldn’t kill any of us. That she couldn’t kill me. No point in wasting breath on a fantasy or giving her the satisfaction of denying me.

“So I moved on ahead with setting up our deal. I’d be her spy, and I wouldn’t get shipped out until I turned twelve. We agreed it was best to keep up appearances in public, but thankfully we were able to resent each other in private. And before you say anything, Emma, it’s okay.”

Emma’s briefly stunned by the sudden address, but rebounds. “I didn’t even say anything…”

“No, but you were thinking it, and… it’s okay. We resented each other. It’s one of the things I ended up not begrudging her for entirely. I mean, think about it: a living, breathing reminder of what she had to endure during her last year at headquarters walking around the house. It was one of the worst things they did to her, and I can’t really blame her for feeling that way.”

At this point Alicia comes over and join Jemima in giving Ray a hug because everyone knew about Ray’s plan to commit suicide and the work he’d put into the plan that allowed them all to escape, how he had to sell himself to Isabella in order to get the parts for the deactivator and that led him to sacrificing other kids, but this added another layer to that tragedy that in the moment no one knows what to really say, because there isn’t anything that’ll make things better.

But they do want to be there for Ray. He’s their older brother who was often quiet and alone at the house unless he got dragged into playing by Emma, Norman, Don, or Susan, but still took care of them back then (there were probably some special dynamics he shared with the other kids he shared a room with since most of them were the quiet kids. Except Alicia and Don lmao), and ever since they escaped he was, while never as extroverted as Emma or Don, still taking care of everyone in his own way and being more free and open than he ever was back then. Everyone loved to see that shift in Ray, which is why it’s so painful to see him revert back to how he was when Norman was shipped out on top of everything else that’s just happened.

(S1 episode 10)

He’s not quite to the same level as back in late 2045 because if nothing else, he is genuinely committed to the vow he made about living and being there for his family. But such a dramatic turn of events with Isabella reappearing in their lives against all odds, he takes it as a sign to give into a notion that’s always teetering on the edges of his mind but he’s gotten better keeping at bay this past year: after everything that’s happened, he doesn’t deserve to be happy.

It’s not his physical similarities to Isabella that he believes condemns him to this fate, but his actions that mimicked hers as he navigated the reality around him to achieve his desired outcome, although as a result of that they can be triggering when he spirals. “Even after we escaped, I just accepted that I’d never really be free of her. I’d see her in all the little habits we picked up from the house, or whenever I looked in a mirror.” (This might be a musing in response to him ruefully recalling a time one of his siblings casually noted their similarities.)

But the part he’s not comprehending is that for his family it's part of a package deal, i.e., they can’t be happy knowing he’s suffering (but everyone gets slack because they're young and very stressed out with the situation going on in that moment). So even if they don’t have the right words to fix everything, they’ll still offer words of comfort and reaffirm they love him.

They do eventually stop Ray from quietly spiraling, although the mood isn’t entirely resolved because he and Emma disagree about how they’re going to proceed. Emma’s in a difficult spot because they can’t forget all the things Isabella has done; she made the choice to comply with the system she was in for years so that she could continue to survive, and it seemed like she relished her dominance over the kids at multiple points. She thoroughly deluded herself into believing that the fake happiness of a few short years is the best the majority of the children can hope for, and that she has moral standing to continue operating in the way she is to foster that glided happiness and prolong her own life. To have the kids challenge that with escaping threatened the reality she constructed for herself because it was too painful to hope for more.

But Emma also can’t ignore that Isabella is a victim of the system just like they are, and maybe if their positions were reversed, she’d make the same choices Isabella did. Even if ultimately it wouldn’t pan out, she at least wants to try talking to Isabella one more time if the situation allowed for it. Especially since details in the memories Isabella recalled incorrectly wind up corresponding to the partial coordinates provided to them by a supporter a while back that were cut off before they could finish.

Ray is entirely against her approach because again, the most important lesson Isabella ever taught him was that she would do anything to survive, making her diametrically opposed to them. There’s no point in trying to talk to her; no one’s life in their group is worth just having the chance to speak with her when they probably wouldn’t get through to her, and even if they could, what can she do in her situation? The demons will most likely kill her if she fails a third time. She isn’t going to just lay down her life for them. And assuming the coordinates she provided are meant to be a safe harbor, they can’t proceed there until they know all their pursuers are dead.

But he knows what Emma wants deep down in her heart, and it hurts because he hates to see her give so much of herself to people like him and Isabella who aren’t worth it in his eyes. He doesn’t want to see her get hurt again because he’s already come so close to losing her after already losing Norman (or anyone else in their group, but he knows if Emma has her way she’ll end up taking on more of the burden herself), but he’s also kind of sadly resigned himself on not being able to reach her.

The same goes for Emma with Ray. There’s a muted despondency regarding each other that they haven’t mutually experienced since Grace Field, although it did happen on Ray’s end back at Goldy Pond when he initially saw her being stabbed by Leuvis and when it took her a few weeks to wake up from her coma. A feeling that if things go the way they each want now, the other will be hurt in some way, and they’d never want to add to each other’s suffering.

(Chapter 122 | Chapter 123)

It’s a very conflicting spot to be in, normally cherishing the honesty shared between them and valuing what makes the other so irrevocably themselves. There is still some comfort in it, having it out in the open instead of knowing the other is burying all their worries and emotions deep down, but it’s not at the forefront of their minds in the moment.

The next morning Anna and Nat opt to stay with the younger kids so they can sleep for a little longer while Don, Emma, Gilda, and Ray go to meet with Lucas, Yuugo, and the Goldy Pond kids. The latter ask how the younger Grace Field children are doing (and are subtly trying to assess how the older ones are). Gilda replies they’re doing as well as can be given the circumstances, and there’s a collective lament of losing the bunker when they have no solid plan of where to go from here.

This is when Emma brings up her hypothesis that Isabella is trying to guide them to safety with the rest of the coded coordinates she provided in her message, and also if there was a possibility of speaking with her, she’d like to try, knowing it would be an uphill battle getting people on board with it. The way their new friends were introduced to their mother was her destroying the sanctuary Minerva established for them and seeing the effect she had on the children she raised. But something in her voice combined with all the memories Emma had of her growing up, up until they parted on the wall and Isabella looked so lost and rooted on the spot, seemingly earnest in her quiet declaration that she couldn’t bear for her children to leave her, and a general sympathy for her plight as a victim of the farm system and unlike her facing that on her own for years…it doesn’t sit right for Emma not to try.

No one says anything in response immediately. The conviction she has in her belief puts the Goldy Pond group in a tough spot because no one wants to actively go against Emma; they’re a family and care about each other…but there’s so much extra risk involve beyond trying to assess if they should try to reach the coordinates and work on luring the remaining pursuers out to eliminate them, or if they should attempt it now when they have the younger kids in tow so there’s that extra layer of safety in knowing the pursuers don’t have a chance of relaying their location to headquarters.

Emma doesn’t let that linger in the air for too long, admitting she knows not everyone will agree with that approach before turning to Ray and confirming he’s still against it. He solemnly answers yes. “She didn’t rise to the position of a Mom (that word feels so bitter on his tongue) without being manipulative and ruthless.” He goes on to list his counterpoints he mentioned before and presents his conclusions about what her being out here means: she’s either fully committed to capturing them to regain her position and prolong her own life, or she’s trying to help them knowing her life is forfeit if she does. He doesn’t see this conflict ending without her death, either by their hands or the demons (and isn’t that another way she’s selfish, potentially forcing them to do this instead of having the decency to die back at the house or doing the deed herself instead of pursuing the children she claimed to love so much). Neither of them look away during this exchange as Ray tries to maintain a neutral, emotionless voice because he knows the extra layer of attention and pity he’s potentially being regarded with, and he utterly loathes it.

All the escapes present surely grew up hearing and reading stories about families and parents having biological children. There were most likely some stories detailing less than ideal situations where parents took advantage of their children, but I feel like the caretakers at all the farms would try to instill a sense of security in their charges with the idea that the relationship between a parent and child is a special bond, and that the goal for each child was to find them their forever family when it came time for them to leave the villages of Glory Bell and Grand Valley respectively.

There’s such an ineffable cruelty in seeing the first biological parent-child relationship they were ever in proximity to play out like this, that would leave Ray like this, speaking this detached and matter of fact, looking so much older than his twelve years. Even if they don’t have all the intimate details of his relationship with Isabella over the years, they’re familiar with the reality of their world. It wouldn’t exactly earn her any points with them.

They try to ascertain what their pursuers priorities are. Is it to capture all of them alive based on how they handled the raid, avoiding explosives and recklessly shooting at them? Is it to secure just the Grace Field escapees with the Goldy Pond group being bonus captures but expendable losses? Or are even some of the Grace Field escapees acceptable losses if it means capturing Ray, Emma, Don, and Gilda alive.

Yuugo picks up on Ray hinting that he might be trying to use his life as bait again, like he and Emma did when they set out on their journey to Goldy Pond, and pointblank states we’re not going to intentionally single any of you out and put you at risk, or in the position where you’d have to kill your own mother. Ire creeps into Ray’s voice as he counters it’s foolish not to take advantage of one of the few concrete pieces of information they have in light of how the woman has operated for years, especially if she’s running on a deadline and needs to catch them before the Tifari they’ve heard about that occurs next month. That might make them more aggressive in their pursuit.

They settle on going to an area of the forest that would be the most conducive for an ambushed based on what they know of the land and what they read in books back in the bunker if they pick up on any signs their pursuers are hot on their trail instead of holding off for reinforcements. As an extra precaution and layer of confusion from afar, all the Goldy Pond kids and older Grace Field kids who are close in height keep their hoods up as much as possible while out in the open.  

Also because it’s me I’d try to work in a scene where Emma talks with Ray before they set out that includes a line akin to “his eyes were so painfully violet in the light of the morning sun” in Emma's thoughts in response to something he says and how he’s carrying himself, though I debate about the inclusion of “painful” because it’s not that she now attaches shame to the traits he shares with Isabella, but more so as a combo of “ah‚ so that's been there right in front of us this whole time” (because I like Ray’s eyes being a darker shade of Isabella’s violet to obfuscate their connection and explain why Emma and Norman never picked up on it) and how Ray and Isabella are both people who have been so deeply wounded by this system they were born into and who she desperately wants to save, even if she isn’t sure how to do it or if, in the end, closure between them isn’t possible.

Ray also apologizes for speaking so freely in front of the younger kids the previous night and bringing down morale, lamenting how he and Isabella always brought the worst of each other.

Meanwhile, Andrew isn’t nearly as injured as he is in canon during the raid, but he’s still wounded and is livid the livestock has managed to flee their forces. If it were up to him, he’d declare Isabella’s test a failure with his bias against all cattle children, including those who have grown up.

(Leuvis to Emma in chapter 80)

But there are people above him who see so much potential in her that he can’t override his orders unless she’s openly mutinous, and if she’s actually in front of the children her presence could still be useful in manipulating them. He can, however, shift group opinion and make them more amenable to capturing the four highest-scoring children while considering the rest as collateral damage in pursuit of a worthy Tifari meal for The One.

Isabella maintains that they should capture as many children as possible. Not only would they be looked upon more favorably upon their return if they keep them alive long enough to perform gupna on them, but even just capturing some of the Goldy Pond escapees temporarily to use as hostages could be a boon if they trouble securing all the Grace Field children. Andrew hints at Isabella having personal incentive for her plan over being pragmatic, to which Isabella concedes the reputation she built up over a decade is at stake, and she plans on proving her worth to the higher-ups by following through on her end of the agreement unless unforeseen circumstances force her to settle for less.

She’s not a stranger to playing it cool like this, but it is a bit ironic to her how strongly she’s working toward her own demise after years of doing the opposite. She was hesitant when a Minerva supporter approached her while she was imprisoned, thinking it was a trick to confirm she had aided the children in their escape, but after being presented with the possibility of helping them after she had hurt them so deeply with her betrayal, she accepts the opportunity for atonement.

Eventually there’s a confrontation between the escapees and the pursuers that results in Isabella pulling a similar maneuver to what she does in canon as Andrew moves to shoot Emma and Ray with his gun (because if it’s only Emma, Ray can reason it away as favoritism; if it’s only Ray I dislike the potential message of her prioritizing her biological connection, and in light of walking Norman off seemingly to his death, I prefer it being both). Thankfully someone is quick enough to recover and stops her Andrew from really finishing her off with the kill switch he’d been given by headquarters (defaulting to Paula), though the wound is still severe. They also have the boon of a few reinforcements from the Minerva supporter demons who had been keeping an eye out for them and located them due to the commotion.

While everyone is in a bit of an adrenalized stupor given what’s just happened, the demon mentioning they have the supplies to save Isabella snaps Emma out of it and into action. She immediately volunteers to be among the small group that accompanies them on the expedited trip to the hideout and volunteers her blood for donation as a universal donor. She isn’t going to tell anyone else they have to donate because everyone here either has only known this woman as a pursuer from the farms who traumatized their friends from Grace Field or is from Grace Field and has been traumatized by this woman. Even if they look at it from a pragmatic perspective of saving Isabella so she can provide them with information, there’s no guarantee she’d cooperate. But she saved Emma and Ray entirely of her own accord, so maybe there’s a chance something could come out of it. Anna, Don, Dominic, Sandy, Yuugo, and Zack accompany Emma and the demons to the hideout, and while they’re operating on Isabella they remove the electronic chip on her heart. Better to be safe while they’re already in there since they don’t know what’s exactly going on with it (she was able to leave the premises of Grace Field, but who knows if it can be remotely reactivated after a certain amount of time passes with no word from the retrieval team to headquarters). She spends a bit of time in a coma recuperating so the kids have more time to reflect on their relationship with her and what they’re going to do when she wakes up.

Ray finds himself at a loss with all this. He’s just spent the past week and however many odd days in an anxious limbo dreading a final confrontation with his mother yet simultaneously wishing for it to happen so he could finally put these tumultuous feelings to rest and his family could be safe. But she had to throw another upset his way by saving him and Emma. Maybe she acted solely for Emma’s sake (he knew how much she favored her) and he was only coincidentally saved. How could there be an alternative answer after the way she regarded him at the house and the imposed distance between them. Does it ultimately matter when that trauma is carved so deeply in his bones. He genuinely doesn’t know how to proceed from here and there’s just a sense of…numbness, thinking of how their relationship will always be tainted.

Assuming she’s being genuine, though, he doesn’t want to impose his feelings toward her on any of his siblings; they’re each entitled to their own thoughts and opinions, and he tells them as much when he notices the younger ones hesitate to talk about her in his presence.

I love imagining Yuugo being asked to go get Anna for something after they’ve settled into the paradise hideout, and he finds her sitting alone watching over Isabella who’s still asleep and weak from the confrontation. It’s a very conflicting set of emotions to have because on one hand this woman laying before him has done a lot of psychological damage to her children to various degrees, and she gave them all a scare when attacking the bunker even if she was playing a very careful game of trying not to reveal her true intentions to the demons in guiding them to this new hideout. But she looks so fragile before him and in light of what he knows of her plight after succumbing to the farm system, he can’t also help but feel somewhat sorry for her.

He asks Anna how she’s doing with the whole situation, and Anna touches on a similar mix of feelings. He asks her if she’s willing to forgive Isabella. She goes over how she understands how it might be harder for some of the other children—Ray in particular without having to elaborate since they’re both well aware by now how complicated and fraught that relationship is, to the point where it might never amount to anything without being painful—but Anna also touches on her memories of Isabella loving and caring for her and her siblings at the house, and how in the last split-second action she thought she would make in her life, she chose to save Emma and Ray, so for her, Anna as the individual, she was willing to try to forgive. Not forget, because they could never go back to how their relationship was as mother and daughter at Grace Field (like the natural journey many children undergo as they age alongside their parents, although this one was underlain with much more dire and upsetting circumstances than average), but to try to forge a new one.

And in that moment, Yuugo can’t help but be reminded of Dina; how she always tried to see the good in people and her calm and caring nature. It warms his heart and might have him choked up the slightest bit how even after everything, these kids are still trying their best to retain their “light/whiteness” (as Shirai awkwardly puts it in the mystic code book) in a cruel world so disproportionately against them. He lovingly ruffles Anna’s hair, maybe comments on how that’s the kind of grace that saved him, and then remembers what he initially came in here for and sets about arranging for someone else to take over watching Isabella.

Anna does have the help of Zack, Sandy, and the supporter demons so she’s not at risk of being completely burnt out (waaay too much to put on a ten-year-old; they’re good older brothers, and Lucas and Yuugo are good dads who’d never allow it to get to that point; they’d step up themselves to help before it came to that, like they did when all the kids were injured at Goldy Pond), but that was one of the times she was having a quiet moment with her mom and reflecting on the complexity of the woman before her while also probably being one of the Grace Field kids who provides her with the most physical touch by holding her hand during her recovery (the same hands that braided her hair when she was younger, broke Emma’s leg, walked Conny and Norman off to the gate, and saved them from Andrew and the demons now feeling so delicate and frail in hers) that lends itself to Anna being one of the more forgiving older Grace Field kids (Ray being the benchmark for the other side of the spectrum) while not pushing her feelings regarding their mother onto others because they all have their own pace to go on their paths to reconciliation/healing on this matter.

Yuugo would eventually come to appreciate Isabella’s acerbic and refined wit as they could both rise to whatever challenge the other sets on that front, subtly egging each other on in their own ways, while also seeing her making an earnest attempt to reconnect and care for her children again. The younger ones are quicker to go back to her and he’s unquestionably prioritizing that for them rather than what it’s doing for her wellbeing—if any of them made any indication otherwise, he’d step in; he’s watching like a hawk—but all the same, he’s not going to deny that to any of them.

With Ray, it helps that Isabella’s not attempting to waltz back into his life and push him to reconcile, but Yuugo’s still somewhat offended that she’s even trying given what he knows about their relationship. Seeing her not only deny her son that unconditional love upon realizing their connection but treating him 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 because of it and her own selfish pettiness, I think he’d have a dual reaction to any interactions they had because it’s such a painful process for Ray and he hates seeing him go through that, but he’s also a bit pettily glad at Isabella being denied in her attempts. At the same time, Yuugo would be offended if she didn’t try to do something to make amends after everything, so it’s just a painful process that’s to be endured as long as all parties involved are even the tiniest bit open to it.

He's smug and passive-aggressive about it to her early on. Not that she would ever make a grand display of how the walls Ray has up hurt her, but maybe in muted, almost imperceptible body language. And he scoffs at her if there’s any remote chance she even thinks what she’s done in the time they’ve reunited is enough to make up for years of cruelty. She tells him she doesn’t, in as much of the dignified Iron Woman persona she can muster at this point. She accepts that in deferring to Ray’s lead on how he wants to proceed with their relationship, he could ultimately choose not to have one with her at all, but she’s letting him know she’s willing to try, for whatever that’s worth to him. It doesn’t erase what she’s done, but it’s the best course of action she could take, so Yuugo begrudgingly respects her for that while also taking into account the unique cruelties inflected on her as a woman subjected to the farm system. (The reveling in thwarting children’s attempts at wanting a better life for themselves is appalling to him, maybe even heightened given how he treated the Grace Field kids when they first met, but she’s accepting the fallout of her choices without a hint of self-pity or feigned incredulity about why Ray’s reacting the way he is, so, it’s something of substance for Yuugo. It’s largely the same for Lucas, only he’s not passive-aggressive or smug about it; maybe just bluntly honest while still remaining civil lol)

It does help immensely that Isabella’s surgery is over and the rest of the group has made it to the hideout and settled in, the Minerva supporters inform them Norman isn’t dead but alive at Lambda since that’s a huge sticking point for Ray. He spent half his life dedicated to saving Norman, and in one fell swoop she ended it and reveled in doing so.

(S1 episode 10)

It’s a bit selfish, considering she still walked Conny and at least sixty other children off to slaughter over her decade as a Mom, and it’s not like she did anything to alter Norman’s fate herself, but it’s a lot more workable for Ray than if Norman had died at the gate. (I don’t think his reaction in canon to her dying would be possible if Norman wasn’t there grieving with him.)

To Isabella’s credit, she doesn’t know much about Lambda when she hands Norman off to Peter besides it being an experimental facility that he wanted Norman to “help” with, so he might very well be dead or be in the similar situation to her with a kind of living death. You could take her saying Norman is dead to Emma either as a parallel to Ray not wanting to give Don and Gilda false hope about Conny, as another means to break Emma and have her give into despair more quickly so she can finally be “happy,” or both.

[celiastjamesoscar]

Jon!! We will surely miss you and your petty behavior. You're one of a kind with your embarrassing but funny pictures. I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that Jonny Boy never uses one of your pictures 🤞🏻

YES GRACE YESSS! LOOK AT YOU GO AND BEING A PERFECT STUDENT! Turning in a paper BEFORE the deadline and dedicating a whole day for studying, hell yes!! You really did make me proud, I feel like a proud parent 😪👈🏻 (wipes a tear away). More pages are better than too less! Keep up the great work, honey!

Butters, boy, what did you do to your balls? I love that guy, he's such a cutie and sounds like an adorable little rascal. The perfect combo! And who would have thought that Butters and Stinky are causing more trouble than Frank. That queen is just living her best life watching the boys wreak absolute havoc. YES THE HOT MILF!! MY APPOINTMENT IS ON SATURDAY AND I CANNOT WAIT!! She's also covered in tattoos and so hot. I hope she takes her sweet time with me...

Helppp I really don't know 😭 I wasn't holding the handle of the knife but rather the top of the blade and somehow I must have slipped up and instead of cutting the banana I cute my thumb that was right next to it. When it comes to achieving dumb impossible things then I'm a pro at it!

Hold up hold up. There's a lot to unpack here. 1) The rooster attacked your brother?? Why did he do that?? 2) You filmed it, omg that's so funny!! I sure hope you still have that video and can use it to embarrass your brother. 3) Why did you get in trouble?? That's typical sibling behavior, and honestly hilarious 😂. Justice for Grace 2k23!

Jon, gone but not forgotten 😔 I’m hoping and praying he never includes me in the pictures, but if he ever does, I’ll take a picture to show you 😭

YOU SHOULD FEEL LIKE A PROUD PARENT!!! I had been putting off that paper since like…October, and it didn’t even take me an hour to write. Sad thing is I wrote it in MLA format when it was supposed to be in APA, and switching that over took a hot minute

Butters loves to lose things, it’s his superpower. And Stinky…I don’t even know where to begin with him, he’s a mess. To make a long story short, 2 years ago Stinky got a small cut on his paw that would not heal, and vet trips later, we found out he has feline aids 😭 So Frank is definitely the only animal that hasn’t caused too much trouble, save for occasionally throwing up on stuff, kind of like Nike. I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN AT YOUR APPOINTMENT!!! And she better take her time with you too! I’m kinda jealous of you because my mother has banned me from getting tattoos for a year

Okay, that kind of makes sense now, like I can visualize how it happened, if that makes any sense. But you definitely need an award for doing that, it’s kind of impressive!!

My brother went in to feed the chickens, and the rooster didn’t like that, so it flew over the coop to chase after my brother. That video is somewhere, I just don’t know where. I got in trouble because I was ‘supposed’ to help my brother, but I thought recording would have been better 🤷🏻‍♀️

[thefatiguedfatale]

Could I have one Usopp and reader (she) please! Where they fight hard (or kinda, you decide the dosage) bc reader got seriously hurt protecting Usopp during a fight and angst issues. But pls pls a happy ending on the glass (kisses would be like umbrella on drinks, a nice bonus 👌✨)

(Writing with a theme of drinks bc I love the bar theme, sorry if it sounded dumb bdushdhs)

Order up! Thank you so much for waiting (Hope you don't mind I changed it to gn reader) Enjoy <3

~

Usopp x GN!Reader

Angst/Comfort

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of death

72 hours…

It has been 72 hours since you had fallen unconscious and remained unconscious. 

72 hours of Usopp’s non-stop pacing echoing throughout the Sunny and beyond to the waves that carried them to the next island. 

Each person on the Sunny tried to reassure him that you would be fine and that you just needed some time to heal. Even Chopper, who had checked over you every day, said that you were doing a lot better and that you would wake up in a few days' time. But it didn’t matter. Every consoling word spoken to fell onto deaf ears. All Usopp could hear was the piercing cry of pain that reverberated across the entire island as you were thrown against the base of a mountain side. All Usopp could hear is the sickening crunch of your bones that came from deep within your body. All he could feel was the sensation of his legs frozen in fear. The only thing he was able to do at that moment was watch. All because you had saved him. You had taken the blows that were meant for him and your life was put on the line.

It should've been him in that bed. Not you. He should've stopped you, he should have thrown you out of the way to take the full brunt of the attack, but all he could do in the moment was stand still. 

Absolutely nothing mattered to Usopp after he heard those vile noises. Not even the terrifying villain that loomed over him with their menacing stature. All that mattered was you and knowing that you were ok. That you were alive. 

His pacing hurrying as he tried and failed to not only outrun his memories, but also his racing thoughts. But they were just a little too fast. The cracking of your spine against the stone, still rang out in his mind.

He could’ve taken that hit. Crack. Because what was his life over yours? Crack. It was nothing. Crack. You were everything. You were the bright sun that made the dark days on the Sunny a little brighter. You were the one thing in his life that made his anxieties melt away. Your happiness became his, your joy became his, your sadness became his. You had somehow snuck his way into his soul and now you were embedded there forever. You were worth everything. You deserved to live every single day that your life allowed you to live. So why did you so easily throw your life away? Crack. How could you so easily throw your life away? Crack. 

The deeper and deeper that Usopp fell into the spiral that was his own mind, the more his worry for you, started shifting into anger. 

You shouldn’t have done that. 

You shouldn't have hurled yourself in front of him.

You shouldn’t have been so willing to throw your life away.

How could you have been so reckless?

Usopp dizzied himself with his own thoughts and chose instead to sit down next to your door. It was only when Usopp had bitten his fingernails down to the nubs, that he saw Chopper walk in to check on you. Not even a minute later did he rush back out and turn to Usopp. 

“They’re awake!”

Usopp didn't hesitate to jump up and rush past the doctor into the room. He stood inside the doorframe of the room frozen in place. You were bandaged and bruised all over just as you were before, but this time your eyes were open. You were awake. Finally. With a wide smile gracing your face no less, happy that Usopp was the first person you saw.

“Usopp!” his name may have come out of your mouth with a croak, but it was still your voice. the voice he had missed so much.

A large smile illuminated his face as you called his name. His frozen limbs melted and he rushed over to hug you, squeezing a little bit lighter when he heard your groans of pain mixed in with light laughter. He grabbed a chair from the opposite side of the room, dragged it over, and sat down right next to your bed. Chopper still had to do his assessment of you, but Usopp refused to leave your side. So instead, he sat there in silence with his hands grasping yours in silence praying to whatever was out there that you were still doing ok. Mindlessly he began stroking your hand with his thumb as his nerves started to set in once again. 

Chopper, after what felt like forever, finished his assessment and left the room to let everyone else know that you were awake and doing well. Silence took Chopper’s position as the door closed behind him. Usopp still had his hands firmly grasped around your own as you laid your head back down drinking in your first moments of consciousness. His fingers, still gently caressing your hand, brushed over a piece of gauze that started to curl a bit under his fingers. He looked down only to see that it was not only your hand that had been bandaged but your whole forearm. He tried to stay chalant, but the memories started flooding his mind again. Then the heavy guilt. Then the anger. Crack. The thoughts started to eat away at him again. Crack. He tried not to say anything. Crack. But he couldn't help but let it slip.

“Why would you do that?” He asked softly. So softly that you didn't even think that he had spoken until you felt him grasp your hand a little harder.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him slightly confused, but he couldn't even meet your eyes. “Do what?” you asked as you gingerly sat yourself up in your bed.

“This.” he gestured at your bruised up body, the frustration slipping through in his tone of voice.

You paused again, squinting at him “What do you mean? I don't get what you're saying.” Though that was a bit of a lie. You were starting to understand where he was getting at but you needed to make sure.

He let go of your hand, his frustration starting to overwhelm him, “Why would you go and hurt yourself like that?” 

You fully turned to him tilting your head in confusion. “I’m sorry? I didn't go doing this on purpose you know. Surprisingly enough, like most people, I don't like getting hurt.” Your own frustration starting to build up at his accusation. 

“And yet you did!” Usopp stood up from his chair pacing angrily once again across the room “Zoro, Luffy, and Sanji were all there. They could have protected us! You didn't have to go and almost throw your life away for nothing!” Usopp’s voice was rising as he was getting more and more frustrated.

And so was yours. “What are you talking about? I didn't do it for nothing!” 

Usopp looked away. “You shouldn't have done it at all! You should have just let me die.”

A heavy silence filled the room. His words whipped a sharp pang straight through to your chest. You tried to not let the tears flow. But your efforts were unsuccessful. They silently began to stream down the sides of your face onto the blankets below.

“You know I could never do that Usopp.”  You whispered. Your voice echoing the pain in your heart. Usopp immediately felt a heavy guilt sink into his chest upon hearing it. “You know that.”

He was still across the room when he stopped pacing. His head lowered. The pangs of guilt in his chest ringing loudly. “Why?” It came out in only a whisper. “Out of the entire crew…I am the one who is the most disposable. Why did you hurt yourself so much just for me?”

You could almost laugh at the ridiculousness if you didn't see the vulnerability etched across his face as he unconsciously gnawed at his lip.

“I did it because I saw someone trying to hurt the person I love and I wanted to protect you. I wasn't thinking about the repercussions when I jumped in the way. All I knew was that I didn't want to see you get hurt.” You tried desperately to catch his eyes, but he still refused to look at you. He was still looking downward at the floor, his own eyes stinging with tears.

He gnawed at his lip even further when he finally looked up and into your eyes. He whispered “I am not worth putting your life on the line for!”

The shocked look that he got from you made him look away again. He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve your kindness. He didn't deserve- he was pulled out of his spiral as he saw you reaching out both your arms towards him. He hesitated for a moment, but soon made his way across the room, choosing instead to kneel on the ground and embracing your waist as you encircled your own arms around him. He laid his head on your chest.

“Usopp, you are worth everything and more. You are worth more to me than you’ll ever know. I love you so much that it hurts. Even worse than this right now.” You let out a small laugh, “Getting hurt is just a small price to pay, and something that I would do over and over and over again if I have to.”

“I just…” he started, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I said. I just…I just hated seeing you get hurt like that. Watching you get hurt like that…just the possibility of  you not recovering sent me into a spiral. I was terrified.”

He lifted himself up and gently grabbed your face with both hands, gently stroking his thumb against your cheek, wiping away some of the tears that were still streaming. “You are my entire world and then some. I never want to be the reason that you get hurt.”

You placed one of your hands over his own “I'm so sorry I made you worry, my love.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, you watched a fire grow in his eyes. “I promise I will be braver, I will get braver and get stronger. I will be stronger. So I can protect the both of us and you never have to hurt yourself for me again.”

You nod your head smiling and he closes the distance between you placing a kiss gently on your lips as you return it.

[the-labyrinth-of-me]

So sad that they threw my boy Ryan into the trash. So, so sad. (I was hoping they wouldn't go down the "like father, like son" road but whatever eh)

I don't even know if that's a logical reaction for him. He was raised as a decent, humble human for eight years. Okay, we don't know what Grace told him /did with him. I don't trust her. I think she uses and gaslights the shit out of Butcher for her own revenge/war path. She said it herself that she put a target on Homelander and charged Butcher at him. I wouldn't be surprised if she manipulated Ryan as well, but sadly, we didn't see any of that dynamic.

So, for my understanding Ryan is still a good boy, but with godlike powers which he slowly tries to develop without anyone showing him how (what a parallel to his father). Then he very quickly rebonds with Homelander because Homelander showed his human, honest, vulnerable side. Something Ryan apparently falls for and appreciates bc that boy is soft.

So far so good. Homelander talks to him about being a big overpowered family with his grandfather and everything is going to be great, because what Ryan is looking for is a family after he accidentally killed his mom, and his dad isn't even upset that he killed daddy's girlfriend anymore, things couldn't be better for the kid. But then Ryan meets his granddad, and gramps not only demeans, but attacks his father, the only other being on the planet that seems to understand him and what he's going through. So Ryan attacks his grandfather, and he has all reason to not trust Butcher after everything he said to him, and after bringing his father's attacker with him in the first place. So, logically, Ryan sides with his father, who still seems to have a human, vulnerable side to him, despite being so powerful. And that's what gets to Ryan, that his father truly looks out for him, cares about him, and seems to be a "good guy" (that he reacted like a maniac after Ryan attacked Stormfront and showed up drenched in blood - who the fuck cares). Maybe Ryan thinks that, between Homelander and Butcher, his dad's the lesser evil or something. But there seems to be some kind of love, because Ryan understands what it's like to grow up isolated and like an alien who's so different from anyone else.

But then Homelander murders the citizen, in cold blood, totally unnecessary, in a disproportionate manner. And Ryan is not shocked. He does not scream. He doesn't leave his father's side, questions his personality, his mental state, he's not affected by the act, he's not scared of the power that comes with the abilities, of what a Supe is capable of by their given power. He seems to like it. He suddenly is aware that he is a superior being, a god, how his father put it in season two, when he should be scared of it, given by how he was raised and that he was never exposed to the brutality of how Homelander, well, handles things. It's all new to him. But he seems to have turned into the same sociopath within a heartbeat, although he was raised with a loving mother in a stable environment, unlike his dad. He grew up to be an empathic human being, just as intended, to prevent he wouldn't be the same lunatic as his dad. But it seems that was all for nothing and apparently being a Supe means being a psycho.

When Hughie is Butcher's canary, I was hoping that Ryan would be Homelander's, that last impersonated shrapnel of humanity. Turning Ryan into a second Homelander is the worst choice of writing for that character IMHO. It nullifies everything the show told us about what makes us being human, the importance of a loving family. And if this scene is only meant to be a setup, a cliffhanger that's gonna be changed in the next season, a red herring, then it's clearly not a good one. Except you wanna interpret it as "Ryan loves everything his dad says and does because he's his dad and I don't care that Ryan didn't trust him just one season ago bc daddy's a monster" but that doesn't work for me.

[777marauders]

Stranger Things Vol 2:

Things about volume 2 (some volume 1) that I want to say and no friends to say it to:

I APOLOGISE IF THIS IS A MESS TO READ, IM JUST SO OVERWHELMED BY THE BAD WRITING AND PACING. If I’m missing anything, please add it by replying.

Anyway, I’m off to read fix-it-fics ✌️

Eddie:

EDDIE, EDDIE, EDDIE.

I LOVE YOU.

WHY DO I ALWAYS SIMP FOR CHARACTERS THAT DIE ON SCREEN!

Dedicating Metallica to Chrissy was EVERYTHING. Had me shipping them with five minutes of screen time.

In my opinion though, he was one of the characters who was done so dirty.

He literally died for a town that hated him and it resulted in nothing.

He died to give more time to Steve, Nancy and Robin. Okay, that’s brave of him, I’m PROUD of him. HOWEVER. He stayed behind because he didn’t want to run. Then he ran and stopped because he didn’t want to run. Very confusion. Then the demobats circled him for what felt like years and weren’t attacking. The pacing of the show was so bad that the tension goes with it. Then Steve, Nancy and Robin were pinned to the wall and were being choked out by the hive mind for however long… it should have killed them. I just don’t think they needed the time.

The news reporters continue to use Eddie as the reason for all this happening. So it really feels like Eddie died for nothing. If they actually cared, I would want them to expose the lab and the real reason so Eddie didn’t die for nothing.

Like ALL that black and red smoke?! The CONSEQUENCES of the lab?! Hawkins deserves the truth after everything.

Max:

I WAS SINGING FOR YOU GIRLY!

Her scenes were probably one of the few saving grace’s of volume 2 as well.

Sadie’s acting is incredible.

I didn’t think they’d kill off any of the kids, but as much as I hate to say it… I think Max dying would make sense.

Again, I love her. Jason is a prick, rest in pieces.

But I think Max dying would make sense purely because WHERE DID ELEVEN FIND THE POWER TO RESURRECT PEOPLE?!?

Max may be alive now, but what if she feels more like a ghost again next season. She couldn’t feel anything (luckily the doctor’s can fix broken bones) but they can’t fix her sight. And I’m worried she’ll feel ten times worse next season.

Also Duffers… where was her mother? Like her daughter is missing for days, is in hospital due to broken bones, lack of eyesight and clinically dead for a few minutes. They couldn’t put her sitting in the corner of the room?!?

She’s been through so much but the Duffer Brothers are literally dragging her through so much more shit that what she needs.

Eleven:

I’m aware that the California Crew didn’t have the means to get to Hawkins BUT they felt really useless… all but El.

I loved the plot she was given… not so thrilled about her new power to resurrect the dead though.

I’m happy she’s free from Brenner and that she’s reunited with Hopper.

Millie ATE her scenes.

One of the few things about this season, where the pacing was executed properly and didn’t feel out of place.

Will:

THE QUEERBAITING AFTER PRIDE MONTH?!?

So what if it’s the 80s? It’s a fictional town with fictional and supernatural occurrences. Robin came out easy peasy (still hate how it felt like a plot twist).

Every time Will cried, I cried. Poor boy needs a hug and so do I. I don’t know how to recover from this.

Other Characters:

It’s late and I’m exhausted from what volume 2 did to me… so let’s wrap this up.

Argyle was a much needed addition. Served more purpose to me than Jonathan, Mike and Will. I love them but no. It just wasn’t their season to shine.

Mike… thanks for saying you love El I guess.

Jonathan is the best sibling on the show by miles. Minor problem with the ending and how he and Nancy started off super weird and at the end they brushed it aside really quickly.

Will, honey, we both need hugs.

Dustin… let me just say Gaten’s acting is unbelievable. He cried, I cried with him. Again the show drew away the tension so while I was trying to be sad for Eddie it was hard because of the pacing. But Gaten’s acting really got the emotions going. And that scene with Wayne… amazing. I cried twice during this show and his talk with Wayne was one of them.

Lucas, I stand by him always. Every decision his character made, I 100% agreed with from start to finish. My Lumax heart broke when Max died and he couldn’t save her. He never left her side and that was beautiful. They are probably the best ship on the show.

Steve had me thinking he was going to die with the way he spoke about the future this season. So happy he is alive and that they referenced Mama Steve. Not so happy about the Nancy plot. He also felt underplayed from the start :/

Nancy is also one of the few characters done right this season. She came in clutch with the plans and wasted no time. Minor problem with the ending and how she and Jonathan started off super weird and at the end they brushed it aside really quickly.

Robin, Robin, Robin. The apple of my eye. At first I was skeptical that her character went from cool and breezy to socially anxious but it worked really well. Kinda hoping the klutz aspect would play in more but it’s okay.

Erica as always is amazing. Slightly concerned that they let a kid who didn’t fully need to be involved, be as involved as she was. Anyway Erica kicking ass is iconic.

MURRAY IM SO HAPPY HE IS ALIVE THATS ALL I CARE ABOUT. There’s not enough appreciation for Murray but omg he was givinggggg. I love him.

Joyce is never wrong. Ever. Never doubt that woman. Joyce and Murray’s team up was brilliant (can you tell I’m running out of new adjectives for everyone). Her reunion with Hopper was chef’s kiss. Also the matching clothes were cute.

( I won’t lie, when I rewatched volume 1, I skipped a lot of the Russia scenes because again the writing.)

Hopper being a low-key corrupt cop with the police brutality last season and then later bribing Antonov to get out of the prison had me laughing. Ofc he would. He was so smart with everything play he made though. His reunion with Joyce and El, were one of the very much needed things to save this season for me. But again THE MATCHING CLOTHES WERE SO CUTE (I know they didn’t have anything else but still.)

Antonov, I kinda thought he would be one of the five to die… only because he had his character arc and that there’s nothing really there for him in America… he’s hot though.

Brenner… man you fucked up big time.

VECNA is actually so interesting. My jaw dropped hearing the reveal that it was in fact Henry who was 1 who was Vecna. The only issue with volume 2 vecna I’d say issssss when Mike was giving his love speech to El, Vecna could literally have killed Max three times over (not that it’s vecna’s fault more like the script’s.)

The bio parents on this show always disappoint me. Not you Joyce. And why did Karen have a poster please?! The theories on the show were a lot better. I don’t even want to talk about Jason or his friends. They just made every situation worse.

Justice for everyone honestly.

[icanseethefuture333]

your tarot reading for olivia and taylor was honestly disappointing to read, it's very obvious that you are biased negatively towards olivia... i mean, she was 17 when it happened after years of idolising her favourite singer... you're not a reliable reader, you let your bias show so strongly. really disappointing and low

If y'all don't get out my damn inbox with this shit. IDGAF! I've been nice and I clarified the first time, but now I am pissed off. If you wanna be bold and slander my character, then come off anon and do it. I have been doing readings since I was 17. That's 5 years of practice!!! The anon asked a question and I did the reading, plain and simple. If you have such a problem with it then take it up with them. It is so convenient for people to attack tarot readers when they are literally bending over backwards everyday to entertain your ungrateful asses with little to no pay. From PACs to personal free readings to celebrity readings, etc, but you think that these two people, out of multiple other celebrities that I have asks for, that I still need to do - You think I have time to be "biased"??? The fucking audacity. I'm gonna say this one time and one time only. I am not a fan of Taylor or Olivia. I don't care what they do and I don't follow them. Check my tags. Check my blog. Neither of them, are going to be present here. Even if I am not their supporter, does not mean I would slander their character. In the reading I did not take sides. If anyone had something stolen from their art and received justice, I am obviously going to say "good for them", regardless of who it is. I didn't even listen to either of the songs till recently! My opinion or your opinion doesn't matter. Taylor won the court case and got credited on "Deja Vu". This isn't just a fued, it's legality. Some people think they sound similar, others do not, but at the end of the day there are people who work in that industry that can tell what sample, beat, or melody that needs to be given credit for. You can also be mad at the judge for being in favor of Taylor, idk maybe they were a swiftie 🤷🏽‍♀️.

Also anon, you're literally a liar and got your facts wrong. "Deja Vu" came out April 2021 and Olivia was 18 years old, not 17. Her birthday is in February, so that made the release 2 months after her 18th birthday. When you are in business and you sign a contract, also writing music, that is your responsibility to make sure things are credited. I even said that it was sad what Olivia and Taylor went through in the reading, so unless you lack reading comprehension, that is not my issue. Even though I felt bad, I am also going to criticize her on lack of ability to give credit because she's an adult! She is not a child. (Also I am two years older than her... so what was the goal of you bringing up her age anyways? 💀)

What comes out in the cards, is what fucking comes out. Period. Even if I am asked about celebrities I don't care for, that I have no interest in, or strongly dislike, I answer the question with grace but I also will not sugarcoat things for anybody. Every reading I do is purely for entertainment and if you are not being entertained, then you don't have to like it. It doesn't resonate with you and that is fine. My job is to interpret the messages that come through. It's literally nothing set in stone, but if you're gonna be this butt hurt at people - when these people don't even know your existence, then I got news for you, your life is gonna be really hard for you out in the real world. Get out your feelings and stop disrespecting people in defense of your celebrities who wouldn't even bat an eyelash at any this, GROW UP! Fans and their parasocial relationships with celebrities is so toxic its ridiculous. I am not a perfect person but don't treat me like shit and accuse me of being biased or say I am "unreliable", when there are awful tarot readers out there who don't show what cards they use, don't even shuffle on camera, invasively dive into people's traumas, sexualize minors, and more, but you're pressed about a reading of a court case that happened this year. Whatever, anon, go find peace and stop disturbing mine.

[kazewhara]

I'm a sucker for calm, sunshine-y characters going berserk upon seeing their loved ones hurt. Can I request Kazuha and Thoma rescuing their kidnapped s/o from treasure hoarders, only to find them bruised and beaten? Tysm ❤️ And congrats for 145 followers, you deserve ten times more!

close your eyes for me.

masterlist!

# — pairings: thoma, kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, thoma, kazuha, ayaka, beidou, treasure hoarders

# — summary: he doesn't want you to see him like this.

# — warnings: violence, blood mention, minor character death, injuries, kinda ooc thoma

# — tags: drabble format, angst, kidnapping and rescue, revenge, hurt/comfort (physical), fluff

# — notes: anon, i really, really, really like your taste :D i actually almost made myself sad writing thoma's.. i love him dearly :( as always, reblogs and reactions are always appreciated, and i hope you enjoy!!

✧— 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚 — ✧

thoma doesn't panic right away when you don't arrive on time.

you were supposed to meet him at komore teahouse for a date; you two made it a routine to have dates there at least twice a week whenever he had the time. it wasn't normal for you to be late, but you'd told him in advance that you were coming from konda village after staying there for a few days, since your parents lived out there. thoma told you to be careful on your way, since there were wandering ronin and treasure hoarders on the outskirts of the island.

"i know you can handle yourself just fine, but," thoma's green eyes swam with concern, "if you come across them, try not to fight, okay?"

you patted his cheek twice. "alright, you big worrywart." you laughed when he perked up a little and leaned in to kiss his nose. "i'll try my best."

thoma wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck, preventing you from pulling away. "do you promise?" he said lowly.

you hummed, an enamored smile parting your lips. "i swear i'll be as careful as i can. if i come across any danger, i'll get away as quickly as i can."

the two of you made a rule early on in your relationship that promises were to be sealed with a kiss, so you kissed him twice for good measure; once to seal the promise, and another time to keep him from whining. as charismatic and confident as thoma may appear, he was actually quite clingy when it came to you. you thought the two kisses would be enough, but thoma doesn't let you go.

"not yet," he murmured against your lips. "just a little more."

you chuckled. "you're so greedy."

as the minutes become hours, thoma's stomach starts to sink. was something wrong? did something happen to you? did you get into any fights and lose?

"no." thoma denies quickly. you wouldn't lose -- you couldn't. call him biased but your strength was unparalleled; you wouldn't let some random treasure hoarder best you. he closes his eyes as he thinks about you wielding your claymore against a mob of attackers. you handled your weapon with so much grace that people often thought it weighed nothing. thoma's about to lose himself in daydreaming about you when a worker of the teahouse appears in the entryway.

"sorry to intrude," she says with a bow, "but i received a letter for you. it was delivered by a suspicious individual, so i came to you right away." in her hands is a yellowed envelope, the edges of which seemed to be burnt.

thoma struggles to keep his expression even as he takes the letter. only when the employee is gone does he allow himself to be swept away by the waves of anxiety. he doesn't have to open it to know that this is a ransom note; this wouldn't be the first time he's seen one. he removes his headband and tentatively removes the seal and pulls out the letter.

the first thing that catches his eye is the large stain on the paper. bile sours thoma's tongue when he works out what it is.

the blood -- your blood -- has already started to oxidize, the stain taking on a rusty color. you must have been gone for far longer than he'd thought if that was ths case. thoma works his fingers through his hair as he reads the contents.

'two billion mora,' the letter reads, 'or they die.'

"two billion." thoma echos. he puffs out an incredulity. you were worth so much more than some two billion mora, but as comforting as that thought was, he knew the kamisato clan didn't just have that much money lying around. even if they did, as a retainer, it wasn't his place to ask for such a large sum anyways; his reputation amongst the staff was very good, but it can't possibly be that good. he makes himself sick just thinking about ways to preserve his reputation while you were missing.

as much as it pains him to do it, thoma tries to go about this rationally first. his body is itching to scour every nook and cranny of jinren island (since your abductors were kind enough to tell you where they were -- probably for ransom delivery), but he knows he would achieve nothing that way. plus, he'd likely be outnumbered. thoma smiles bitterly as he puts his headband back on. who cares about being outnumbered? he needed to see you safe and sound sooner rather than later.

he gets back to the kamisato estate in record time, where he heads straight to ayaka. she's having tea with ayato when he sees her. if this were any other day, he'd feel bad for intruding; the siblings don't get much time to see each other due to their respestive duties, but this -- you -- were far more important.

"thoma, you look exhausted," ayaka comments as she stands and makes her way over. he'd tried to keep a level head as he traveled, but he must have tried to sprint all the way here. no wonder his chest was burning. "you look about ready to pass out. is everything alright?"

thoma doesn't respond right away. he can't, not with how tight his chest feels. his breath comes in short and shallow. he pulls the crumpled letter from his pocket. he'd crushed it impulsively after reading it. ayaka tentatively takes the note from him and gasps when she realizes who exactly was missing. there was only one person that could make him panic like this.

ayato approaches next and reads the note. his face hardens and he crumples the paper back up. "i don't believe we can spare that much mora," he says through grit teeth, "but if i explain the situation to the tenyrou commission, then--"

"that's very kind of you," thoma interjects, "but what would people think of the yashiro commission if they found out you were doing all of this for a mere retainer?"

ayaka looks cross. "you're not just a retainer, thoma." she rests a hand on his shoulders, squeezing gently when she feels trembling. "you are like family to us; you know that."

thoma inhales sharply. he's already past his limit. he hasn't felt this helpless since he first arrived in inazuma all those years ago. he really didn't miss this feeling. ayaka's heartfelt words do very little to soothe him. because while it's always nice to know that he's got a family within the kamisato siblings, he also has a family in you.

but you're not here.

molten tears sting his eyes, but he blinks them back before they get the best of him. thoma's never cried in front of anyone before, and he didn't want to start now. "i appreciate it," he says after a while, offering the siblings his most grateful smile. "but i think i'll go and get them on my own."

ayato puts his foot down. "absolutely not. you're far too valuable, thoma; going there alone would be a suicide mission, and i refuse to endanger you like that."

"then you can rest easy; you're not the one putting me in danger." thoma feels a bit of his usual energy return to him as he give ayato a reassuring smile. "i'll be endangering myself."

"that's not--" ayato sighs harshly. he rolls his shoulders back -- a sign that he's admitting defeat. as expected yashiro commissioner, he's likely already thought ahead. he can't stop thoma. they both know it. "very well. come back safe. do you understand? that's an order."

ayaka nods and steps beside her brother. she doesn't look like she agrees, but there's not much she can do now. thoma supposes it's for the best. he gives them both a grin before accepting the order and leaving a bow. as soon as he exits the room, the smile drops from his face. he was going to head straight for that island without wasting another second. "i'll be there soon." he mutters to the open air.

getting to jinren island took a lot longer than he hoped it would.

it was so far off the coast of narukami; he could see why it was a gathering place for criminals. thoma hadn't been very subtle in his arrival, so he's greeted by about four treasure hoarders, two of which held large shovels. after doing a quick sweep, thoma notices that none of them have visions.

good. that makes this a lot easier then.

thoma raises his hands in surrender. "gentlemen." he greets with his most diplomatic smile.

"where's the mora?" one of the bulkier men demands. he growls when thoma clicks his tongue.

"now, now, don't you boys know how negotiations work?" he chides gently, like a parent scolding their child. "especially when something as precious as another person's life is at stake... has no one ever taught you this? let me confirm that they're alive first, and then you get the money."

the treasure hoarders aren't as stupid as he was hoping. one of them shoves a blade in his face. thoma doesn't flinch.

"boss says that that's not how it goes."

"do you not trust me?" thoma raises a brow before jerking his head in the direction of the boat he came in on. "if you don't believe me, then by all means, feel free to check my bag."

the criminals locate his bag easily. they lift it with some difficulty and hear the familiar jingling of what they assume is mora. thoma has to bite back a mocking laugh when he realizes that they didn't even check the bag; they just thought he brought mora. content with the "ransom", they escort thoma further onto the island.

there's a wooden cage in the center of some platform on a hill, and more treasure hoarders standing guard around it. there's more wooden cages, but since no one is near those, it's safe to assume they were empty. when thoma finally steps onto the platform, he sees you.

you're crumpled on the floor of the cage, your body curled in on itself. it looked like you'd passed out while clutching your stomach. thoma blindly sprints towards you and glares at a treasure hoarder until he opens the cage. the door swings open, and thoma's by your side in an instant, fretting over your unconscious body. you don't wake when he shakes you, and bile rises to his mouth again. he tilts you to get a better look at your face, and--

"how long were they here." thoma doesn't recognize his own voice. he gingerly wipes the fresh blood from under your nose with his thumb, grimacing when he feels some more dried blood crumble beneath it. your breathing shallow and stuttered, and thoma feels rage beginning to simmer. you have a black eye and there's both dried and fresh blood caked to your forehead. you have a few deep cuts on your cheeks that have clearly been treated with very little care, and as thoma's eyes trail down your body, he sees violet and yellowing bruises extend down into your clothes.

the rage grows to a boil in no time. "i asked how long they were here." thoma speaks again. "answer me."

a scrawny treasure hoarder nearby shrugs. "about three days."

that's exactly how long you were gone for. you must never have even made it to your parents.

thoma's about to summon his spear when a deep groan bubbles out of your chest. his anger fizzles like a spark dampened by water as he watches you wake up. "hey, hey." he whispers, his smile fragile as your eyes flutter open. his heart crumbles as he sees you try your best to focus on him, especially with your bruised eye. "good morning, sunshine."

his attempt to keep you calm doesn't work. you hardly get to rasp his name before you're coughing violently, tears forming in your eyes as you do. you can't seem to stop, and the very sensation only seems to worsen the pain. "what are you--" you're interrupted by your own coughing again.

thoma shushes you gently. you must have a broken rib. "i came to pick you up. you were late for our date, you know." he's trying so hard to remain calm, trying to keep himself sane since he's finally found you, but when you return his weak smile and he sees the blood staining your teeth, the rage reignites itself.

"took you long enough." you wheeze. your eyes lose focus again. "you're a little blurrier than i remember you." you try to joke.

thoma doesn't laugh. he knows you're trying to put him at ease, but it's not working. it's not going to work. he slips away from you and rises to his feet. "that's fine, baby. get some more rest for me, yeah? let me finish up here and then we can go home."

the treasure hoarders around you two sense something’s off and brandish their weapons, pointing them at thoma, whose got his own polearm at the ready. "what do you think you're doing?!" one of the men yells.

on the ground, you call thoma's name. "w-what's going on? what are you--?"

your boyfriend turns around for a second and gives you his sweetest smile. even with hazy vision, you can see the playful shimmer of his emerald eyes. "sleep for just a little while longer, baby." he faces the enraged treasure hoarders again, his voice dropping to something you've never heard before. "i'll be quick."

(he wouldn't know until it was over, but you had actually passed out as soon as soon as he told you to sleep. it wasn't so much that you were obeying him, but more that you physically couldn't stay conscious any longer.)

thoma doesn't think he's ever fought so viciously in his life.

he swings his polearm to the side, relishing in the cracking he hears as he knocks over two treasure hoarders. he makes quick work of the potioneers, bringing the base of his polearm down on the backs of their heads without a second thought. they crumple like ragdolls, and for a split second, he wonders if he killed them. he wanted to kill them -- he wanted nothing more than to skewer each and every one of these bastards and fling them into the ocean -- but if anyone were to find out what happened here, it would only complicate things.

he tries to avoid killing the remaining few, but not without stabbing them in non-vital areas with the blade of his weapon. one of the treasure hoarders has the gall to beg for mercy. "funny," he chuckles, swiping the blood off his cheek with a thumb, "i'm sure my lover said the same thing."

the last treasure hoarder gives him a hard way to go. the rest of the shovel holders went down pretty quickly, but this one clearly dwarfed everyone with his size. thoma assesses him very quickly and nearly succumbs to the darkest thought in his head.

someone had to die for this. one body wouldn't hurt, would it?

his next thought halts him in his tracks, nearly getting his head crushed by the burly treasure hoarder. as nice as it would be to kill at least one person, screw the commission -- if you found out, what would you think of him then? thoma makes up his mind quickly and inserts himself into the fight once more.

after a lengthy struggle, thoma finally manages to jam his polearm into the treasure hoarder's thigh, bringing him to his knees. thoma finishes the fight with a solid crack to the back of his head, knocking him out cold. he observes the mess he made and nods to himself. this felt good; giving them what they deserved. he makes his way back over to you.

you're exactly where he left you, curled on the floor of the cage. thoma picks you up as gently as he can and carries you back to the boat he came in on. he's about to rest you down when he sees two more boats coming in, both bearing symbols of the kamisato clan.

ayato and ayaka were on one boat. even after he told them not to, they came to assist him. the other boat held a few samurai to arrest the treasure hoarders. ayato helps thoma carry you onto their sturdier boat while ayaka strokes your head to keep you asleep amidst all the commotion. her touch is feather light, and it works to keep you asleep.

maybe it works a little too well, because the next time you open your eyes, you're in a bed.

you wake with a start, desperately sucking in air as if you were drowning. you regret it immediately as your lungs and ribcage scream in protest. a large set of hands is on you quickly, the one on your back rubbing soothing circles. you slap it away quickly. "don't touch me, i-- thoma?"

any fight you managed to muster leaves your body at the sight of your boyfriend by your side. there's dark circles under his eyes, shadowing their usual forest green color. "hey, stranger. you feel any better?"

your shoulders droop and you reach over, holding his face in your hand. thoma leans into your touch, holding onto your wrist for dear life. he practically nuzzles your palm with closed eyes, waiting for you response. you're so shocked by his behavior that it takes you a minute. "how... how long was i asleep for?"

thoma's eyes open, but not all the way. "about 36 hours. you..." he sighs, clearly bothered by the information. "you got roughed up pretty bad. how do you feel?"

"i feel like death, but did you sleep?" you brush your thumb over his cheek, your heart cracking when he sighs, content. "you must have been so worried, thoma, i'm sor--"

"don't," he snaps. he catches himself, murmuring an apology. "don't say sorry. no, i didn't sleep much. i was just-- i was worried you'd disappear again. last time you left my sight, you..."

every word seems to take more and more energy out of him. you may be the injured one, but thoma's distress has to be the most painful thing for you right now. love works so strange sometimes. you move your hand and run your fingers through his hair. "i'm not going anywhere again, okay?" you giggle lightly when thoma nearly purrs at the feeling. "look at you. you're like a giant cat."

"i'm your giant cat." he smiles then, and you see a glimmer of his usual self start to show. you know you mean a lot to him, but to see just how much is almost overwhelming. "i love you. so, so much, you know?"

"yeah." you grin. maybe you'll heal faster with him by your side. "i know. now go get some sleep, thoma. i'll be here in the morning."

"...you promise?"

you beckon him towards you, remembering your usual promise tradition. he leans in and you peck his lips, laughing when he starts to pout. there he is, you think. there's your thoma.

"i promise."

✧ — 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 — ✧

kazuha will never forgive himself for not being the first to notice your absence.

it's beidou who brings it up first. it had been a few weeks since the crew made a stop in liyue harbor. everyone went their separate ways; some to visit family, some, like kazuha, to explore the surrounding areas. you and kazuha had gone your separate ways two days ago since he decided to venture further out, but you had responsibilities aboard the alcor.

"are you going to set sail with us again?" you finally mustered up the courage to ask. you were on edge all night, caught between asking kazuha to just stay with you and letting him go. you knew he was a free spirit, and you feared that once he started on his journey, you two would have to part ways for good.

kazuha crossed the room and sat beside you, his head tilted in question. "are you afraid that i might not?"

you nod wordlessly. it's embarrassing enough that you had to ask; you probably sounded clingy, and you knew how much kazuha hated it, even if he never said it out loud.

"...it seems like you've come to a conclusion without me. may i pick your brain, my love?" he nudged your shoulder with his.

it was impossible to keep secrets from him. you knew this. kazuha's observation skills were second to none, even when it didn't involve nature. you decided to confide in him, knowing that your relationship wouldn't grow unless you communicated. "i'm just worried that you might not return."

kazuha hummed. "if it's my combat skills that youre concerned about..."

"no, no, it's not that! i... i feel like once you leave, you'll find that you're happier out there." you swallowed down the unwelcome tightness in your throat. "you're a wanderer, kazuha, and i'm bound to the alcor. i'm scared that after this little break, you won't want to come back."

kazuha, stunned by your vulnerability, blinked a few times. even though you valued communication, you still struggled to talk to anybody, including him. he looked at you a little longer, trying to figure out why you would think he would ever leave your side.

it's true that he's a free spirit, but even the wind has to settle sometimes.

"dove," he said, taking your hand in his own, "i could never leave you for long." he chuckled at the look of mild disbelief that you gave him. "to me, it sounds as though you thought i would be upset with you for asking me to stay."

"i don't want to stifle you." you confessed. "i love you too much to do that to you."

kazuha made a small "ah" noise. he got off the bed and stood between your legs, tilting your head so you could look up at him. "ask me to stay." he pursed his lips for a moment. "on second thought, tell me to stay."

it wasn't worded like a question. you hesitated.

"i love you as you love me, perhaps even more so, if you would believe me." kazuha's hands explored your face gently, fingers smoothing over your eyebrows or lightly pinching at your nose. he had the most lovestruck smile on his face, and it made you flush. "i would do anything for you; i would grow roots and stay by your side if you'd let me."

"of course i'd let you!"

kazuha leaned down. "then tell me." he whispered. "tell me to stay. wherever you go, i'll go; wherever you stay, i'll stay. to the ends of teyvat, my dove, i would follow you anywhere."

this wasn't what you had in mind when you made up your mind to talk to him. you felt as though you were a child with a crush all over again, growing more and more flustered by the second with how close kazuha was to your face. he kissed your cheek. "go on, dove. say it."

"kazuha..." your heart sat in your throat, and the lump you suppressed earlier returned with a vengeance. "i don't know, i--"

your lover kissed your other cheek, his ruby eyes encouraging you to answer. you hated that you were so conflicted over this, but if he grew to hate you for forcing him to settle down--

"you're not forcing me," kazuha said. your face burned as you realized you said that out loud. he kissed your lips this time. "you're so lovely, my little dove. say it."

your walls came toppling down a lot easier than you expected. the pros of having kazuha around greatly outweighed the cons, and if he ever did wish to go his own way, then that was a conversation he would most likely have with you. he wouldn't just abandon you without a word. so you tell him.

"stay." you barely had the word out before kazuha kissed you, stealing it right from your lips.

"again." he murmured.

"please, stay."

kazuha pressed light kisses all over your face, drinking in the giggle you gave him. "as you wish."

you had little difficulty parting with him after that. reassured by the promise of return, you flew through your tasks aboard the ship with ease as you waited for the day kazuha returned.

but when he did return, you were nowhere to be found.

kazuha knows that he shouldn't blame himself for not being able to find you first, but he does anyways. he wasn't the first to board the alcor -- beidou was. when he got there later that morning, she pulled him into her cabin and slammed two things on the table. it was a dagger and a sheet of paper with demands scribbled on it. he didn't have to read the contents to know what it meant.

"i couldn't find them when i got here," she sighs, her arms folded tightly over her chest, "so i asked any early crewmates but they said they haven't seen them either. then i found this stabbed into my door."

kazuha's jaw jumps as he tries to find the proper words to say. he now understands how you must feel whenever you're trying to stop yourself from being crass with people who you dislike. his eyes flutter shut. if he looks at that letter any longer, he'll have much more trouble containing himself. "what does it say," he asks flatly. "who is it and what do they want?"

beidou, who seems equally as pissed as kazuha, reads the ransom note again. "they want all our valuables, so... my guess is treasure hoarders. how did those scummy bastards manage to organize something like this in the first place?"

how, indeed. it's a great question. kazuha doesn't care for the answer. "is there a location?"

the captain squints. "don't tell me you actually want me to surrender our supplies." if she were anybody else, that would come across as her prioritizing materials over your safety, but kazuha knows her better than that. he can see it when he opens his eyes. "it says they're near qingxu pool. there's a bunch of abandoned homes out there, so--"

"will you assist me, captain?" kazuha's not the brash type, never one to interrupt someone midsentence unless absolutely necessary, but beidou takes no offense to it. his expression is blank -- too void of emotion to be normal. needless to say, she gets why he's being a little impulsive.

beidou herself isn't one to dive headfirst into situations like this. as the captain of the crux fleet, she is not only responsible for overseeing the crew's behavior and the ship's maintenance, she is also a diplomat meant to keep the peace.

but she, like kazuha, is also a fighter. her answering smile is sharp. "i'll go inform the crew that we're gonna delay our departure."

once technicalities are out of the way, kazuha and beidou exit liyue harbor and walk towards the designated location. the trip is silent as kazuha tries to imagine all the ways this could go.

if he found you and you were unscathed, then he would have no trouble taking you and leaving. treasure hoarders like these don't have the means of following you. if you had a few scratches, then maybe he'd have to get physical.

an intrusive thought gives him pause. what if this was a trap and you were already dead?

"kazuha." beidou's voice makes him jump. she's stopped walking as well. they're finally here. "just know that whatever happens in there, i don't blame you."

kazuha runs her words through an internal translator right away.

"if you feel the need to kill someone, then go ahead."

it's sickening, feeling like a rabid dog on a stray leash. but never, not once in kazuha's life has he ever experienced something like this. he's a bit lost in the motions. he follows closely behind beidou as she approaches where the treasure hoarders are holding you captive.

your kidnappers did a horrible job hiding you. kazuha and beidou find you slumped against the concrete wall, your hands bound by some flimsy rope. neither of them make a sound, nor do they move to free you right away. it's not the presence of poorly hidden treasure hoarders that's got them frozen in place but rather, the that state you're in.

dried blood cakes the wall behind you, smeared a little bit above your head and trails down to where the back of your head rests. a rainbow palette of bruises paints your arms and face, and there's blood on your forehead and at the corner of your mouth.

kazuha reaches for his sword without a moment's hesitation. beidou stops him. "not yet." she warns. then, "we know you're there! come on out before i come and find you myself."

surprisingly (or not; treasure hoarders are pathetic excuses for human beings), the kidnappers come out. there's a large number of them, but that, too, is to be expected. they provoked the woman who took on the haishan alone and a samurai whose skills they knew nothing about. their cooperation may be a ploy, but a head count is pretty helpful.

"fourteen," kazuha says aloud. seven shouldn't be a problem for him. he's encountered more enemies on the run.

"where's the goods?" a skinny treasure hoarder asks. "we told you we'd kill them if you didn't bring what we asked."

beidou shifts her posture once before summoning her weapon, resting it on her shoulder. the entire room crackles with the tension of an upcoming battle. "touch them one more time, and i'll have to get my hands dirtier than usual."

her threat does nothing. a treasure hoarder next to you pushes you with his foot and you groan. you're alive, but--

"kazuha, wait." beidou commands.

kazuha didn't even realize he'd drawn his own sword. you once praised him for his exceptional restraint and ability to keep himself cool under pressure. he skims your body once more and notices that something’s... off. something’s missing. "their vision." kazuha finally speaks. "where is it?"

a treasure hoarder to his left laughs and pulls your anemo vision from his pocket, waving it around tauntingly. "you mean this thing?" he sneers.

the flashbacks happen so fast that it nearly blinds him.

the sight of his best friend being defeated right before his eyes, his cracked blade falling at his feet. his vision flying through the air, devoid of its elemental glow.

the hysterical cries of people who had been robbed of their visions -- their ambitions. the rainbow that projected onto the ground in inazuma city during mid-afternoon, the sun reflecting off of the confiscated visions.

there's a flash and a clang before something -- the treasure hoarder's severed forearm -- hits the ground with a dull thud.

your vision now rests safely in kazuha's hands. "yes," he replies to the treasure hoarder he unknowingly attacked, his agonized screams falling on uncaring ears. "this thing."

beidou mutters, "fuck it," before charging at the seven treasure hoarders on her left. her powerful strikes are audible as she swings her claymore. kazuha cradles your vision as he takes on the remaining six treasure hoarders.

if you were to ask kazuha what happened that day, he probably wouldn't be able to tell you. not because he's ashamed of what he did, but because he really and truly doesn't remember.

adrenaline and molten fury give kazuha the strength he needs to cut down each of his opponents. he doesn't miss a single one -- doesn't leave a single stone unturned. each treasure hoarder he encountered met the same fate. when there's finally one treasure hoarder left, kazuha doesn't kill him right away.

"in your next life," kazuha seethes, his voice foreign to his own ears, "you will die another death by my hands." he silences the treasure hoarders please by dragging his sword across his neck, and like that, brings the fight to a close.

kazuha peers down at your vision, which is still pulsing with life. you may be incapacitated, but perhaps this was your way of giving him strength. when he sees blood smeared on the shell, a twinge of guilt starting to grow. "you said you wouldn't blame me." he says as the adrenaline seeps out of him. "do you think they would--"

beidou slaps the back of his head, shutting him up. "please, they'd have started fighting a hell of a lot sooner than you did." she looks him over once before looking down at herself. the two of them are covered in blood, none which was their own. "ugh, let's go. there's doctors that can treat them on board."

kazuha cups the back of his head with a quiet hiss, but follows along anyways. he heads over to you and picks you up as gently as he can, careful not to upset any wounds you may have that he can't see. "i'm sorry i didn't come sooner, dove." he whispers. "i'm so, so sorry."

when you finally wake up, it's to the sound of seagulls. you shoot into an upright position, but your vision starts to swim and you feel the need to throw up. you lean back on the headboard. what the hell happened? why did you feel like someone ragdolled you into a wall? you close your eyes and try to listen to the crash of waves outside. at least you were on the alcor -- maybe you should try to remember what happened until someone came in. the door opens about 45 minutes later, and you're greeted by a familiar head of platinum hair.

it's kazuha.

he rushes over and kneels at your bedside. your lover doesn't say anything for a long while as he cups your hands and bows his head away from your sight, his shoulders shaking slightly. thankfully, you managed to recall what happened in the two days you were apart, so you can't blame him for being this way. he must have been scared stiff.

the only thing you can think to say in the moment is, "welcome home, kazuha."

his shoulders still for a moment before starting again, but this time, you can hear soft laughter. kazuha looks up at you, his eyes teary. "i'm back, dove," he says, pressing your hands to his forehead. "i'm back."

"did you miss me?" it's a cheeky question, and probably a bit calloused considering what happened, but you both needed a smile right about now. kazuha's smile grows, and your heart flutters.

"more than anything." kazuha kisses the back of your hands, the gesture laden with affection and longing. "a day apart from you feels like an eternity, my star."

you chuckle. "never have truer words been spoken."

kazuha pushes himself off the floor and sits on the bed near you, holding your face in his hands. you're sure you're still swollen and bruised; you must be unsightly and yet kazuha's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky for him. he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours.

"you are my everything." he declares softly. it's like a prayer to you and you alone, spoken a space inhabited only by the two of you. his words are sacred and special, and you soak in every last one. "the brightest star in my sky; my universe."

you're starting to get dizzy. he must have been terrified by your absence. "kazuha--"

his lips cover your own and you melt, unable to resist him. "i adore you." he says when he pulls away. "i always will."

you cling to those words like they're your last lifeline. "and i, you." you say in return, shutting your eyes when he kisses you again.

✧ (whew! this monster grew bigger and bigger as i wrote it! i got carried away again,,, but! i do hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!)

[apompkwrites]

Hi, I discovered your blog an hour ago and I fell in love with it. Your writing is amazing! I love the idea of 'Reader Impact', it's very original and it would be an amazing series. Also, I can't stop thinking about either Aether or Lumine playing Genshin Impact (yes, I'm a simp for the twins) and simping for the reader through all the playthrough.

reader impact || first meeting: traveler edition

series masterlist characters: aether, lumine genre: fluff summary: a game has been released entitled genshin impact, consisting of otherworldly abilities relying on the basic elements of nature. the game follows the story of an interdimensional traveling twin in search of their other half. along this journey, they meet different characters that live in this world. including you. notes: the twins are amazing and that’s that <3

aether's playthrough -

i like to think he's the softer one of the twins.

like, lumine is the one to beat someone up while aether wants to talk things out.

aether and lumine definitely stream together.

catch them playing little nightmares 2 together and lumine being the one to play most of the time.

fit checks at the beginning of the stream.

please he needs validation :((

anyway since genshin is primarily a single-player game, the twins can't really play together for the first part of the game.

they'd still play together, though!

they will start the game together and end the game together.

they're super excited to see that there are twins as the mc.

aether is not prepared for the start of the game.

please he jumps when he sees the main god appear.

now comes the fateful decision of which twin to choose.

aether picks you automatically because he just really likes you.

your scarf is so cute and your wings are so cute and--

he feels guilty when your twin is taken away :((

he really can't imagine the feeling where you lose your other half right in front of your very eyes.

"(twin/name)!"

he's rooting for you when you attack the god but he knows you won't beat her because there wouldn't be a game if you did.

"wait! don't go! give my (brother/sister) back! please!"

he will cry, don't test him.

he really likes your voice.

it's just really soothing for him to listen to.

when the game starts, he'll just jump around the beach for a few minutes.

"look! look at their scarf!"

he likes the physics of the clothes whenever your character moves.

he's just so giddy!!

lumine is teasing him but he doesn't care.

his chat really wants to know why he likes you so much.

and honestly? he just does.

you're cute and that's that.

he's sad he doesn't get to hear you talk that often though :((

he's like a little puppy please talk!

his chat doesn't like to see him sad so whenever they can, they tell him about the voicelines in your character profile.

honestly, they don't expect him to get that excited.

but he is and now he's obsessed.

he can and will make your voicelines a daily part of his life.

anyway, back to the actual storyline.

he gets scared by dvalin because he doesn't want you to get hurt.

"aren't they, like... professional adventurers?"

"yeah, but... i don't want them to get hurt."

LET HIM LOVE YOU

anytime there is a long silence during the stream, aether will cut in and just compliment you out of the blue.

like it's dead quiet except for the game.

you can hear aether's character (you) running through the grass.

"they're really cute."

aND HIS CHAT IS GOING WILD

anyway, he gets further into the game and him and lumine have top-tier characters.

even though he has a bunch of new four and five star characters...

hE JUST CAN'T LEAVE YOU BEHIND.

you will always be in his party, no questions asked.

and then he learns you can have different elements.

he doesn't care which one you have because you'll look cool with any one of them!

he soon gets used to your silence whenever something happens.

he appreciates the noises you make every so often when you're traveling because that's all he gets.

until the end of the liyue mission.

"name your price. you deserve that much."

"we still need to find our twin..."

you guys are in sync at this point istg--

"well... could you help me put up some missing person posters...?"

you've done it.

you've killed aether.

now his chat and lumine are laughing at him.

lumine's playthrough -

like i said before, lumine's the "tougher" of the twins.

it's not like she's a tomboy type, she just is more... confrontational.

she likes to stand up for herself.

we love a strong woman.

anyway, games.

she and aether tend to do more story-based games because they like the banter that comes with it.

her viewers are... different compared to her brothers, but she doesn't let that stop her!

the chat's exactly what you'd expect from a strong female streamer... unfortunately.

once again, lumine and aether stream the game together but with different playthroughs.

while aether chooses your sibling, lumine chooses you!

she really likes your outfit, ngl.

you. are. adorable. any other opinion is invalid to lumine.

"(twin/name)!"

YOUR SIBLING LOOKS SO SAD STOP--

and they're gone.

she's actually yelling at you to defeat the god, but obviously, it doesn't work.

"stop! give my (brother/sister) back!"

as much as she loves to tease her brother, she'd feel devastated if she were in your position.

if you have flowers just like lumine, she will purposely get matching ones and wear them for genshin streams.

WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE

anyway, she loves your fighting style.

if it's graceful and calculated, she loves watching your scarf flow behind you while you fight hilichurls.

if it's reckless and wild, she'd admire you for being so tough :0

lumine still teases aether for being so smitten over his twin, but she'd be just as guilty.

they'd rant on and on after ending the game about how cute and cool you are.

surprisingly, she'd be the one to point out the slight difference in the twins.

once lumine and aether can play together in the same world, she'd have them stand side by side and attack just to explain the differences.

like how your twin uses the opposite hand in every attack.

or how your elemental skills are animated differently along with different voicelines.

also, she'd argue with aether about which twin is better.

her side of the stream would definitely start with some of your voicelines.

she wouldn't go as far as to use your lines for alarms in her daily life but she'd definitely use them for her stream.

she loves gliding around teyvat with you.

"look at how cute they are when they're flying!!"

you are her main dps, no questions asked.

her sub dps wouldn't get as much attention,,,

and once you unlock the other elements, she is prepared.

any character she has that matches your element, you get their artifacts.

she will buff you no matter what element you use.

just like aether, she wished you would talk more but she wouldn't be devastated.

her chat would tell her not to worry because you'll talk soon.

she's kind of annoyed they told her but she can't help but feel really excited for that special moment.

"name your price. you deserve that much."

"well... could you help me put up some missing person posters?"

"please tell me someone's already clipped that."

even if she wants you to talk more, she can't help but feel like these scenes are special when they pop up. <3

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours

Content: an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

A/N: I actually cannot believe that this is finally being posted over almost a month of working on it!! originally, I was going to make this one long stand alone fic, but once I hit 35k with no end in sight, I decided to split it into two parts so that it would be easier to read for you guys.  I’m hoping to have part 2 posted within a week, so keep an eye out for it!! this fic was partially inspired by this post by @avhrodite​ (thank you miss bailey!!) and can I just say that I had so much fun writing it!! I love road trips!! it makes me so sad that I had to split this fic because there are so many fun music scenes in the next part but those will all come in due time!! I would also like to give a big thank you to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and miss alex @darthstyles​ for putting up with me bouncing ideas off of them and for proof reading for me!! and miss andrea again for editing this stunning header pic!! also everyone I tagged is a wonderful writer and if you’re looking for more to read after reading this then I HIGHLY suggest taking a look through their masterlists. and as always, if you like this fic, please like and reblog it!! and shoot me a message!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by all content creators <3

{masterlist}

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

When she was a little girl, Y/N’s grandmother had told her about Murphy’s Law.  Grandma Sarah’s favourite activity was staring at her granddaughter over the kitchen counter, a knife in one hand and half an onion that she’d been cutting in the other, spouting various wisdoms at the young girl, who would often be sitting and peeling vegetables for her.  The old lady had hoped that, after being lectured enough times on life’s difficulties, Y/N might be able to avoid making the same mistakes that she had made in her own time.  She always had a list of advice that she’d cycle through, as if she were a record on a loop.

“Always look both ways before crossing the street.  Your great uncle Albert didn’t, and he never regained full function of his left hand.”

“Beauty fades, but there’s no shelf life on your mind.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side, so stop staring at it, and focus on taking care of your own lawn.”

All of the advice was, by any accounts, useful for anyone to know, especially a young girl.  Of course, sometimes the advice would get a little scrambled after Grandma Sarah had had a few glasses of wine, but even her tipsy thoughts were useful to Y/N in her later years.  To this day, Y/N still sets a glass of water on her nightstand before going out to a bar, and her hungover self is always grateful the next morning.  And Y/N had yet to find anything that smelled as sweet as a vanilla dabbed behind her ears and on her wrists when she runs out of perfume.  However, perhaps the most important piece of advice Grandma Sarah ever gave her came one afternoon when Y/N was eleven years old, and her older cousin Grace was due to get married the next week.

Grandma Sarah had cracked egg after egg into her mixing bowl, always without getting any unwanted pieces of shell in the egg whites, and gave her granddaughter a long look across the kitchen counter.

“When you get married, Y/N,” She had said, voice firm. “Remember Murphy’s Law.  Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.  When Murphy’s Law comes into play, there’s nothing you can do except roll with the punches.”

Eleven year old Y/N had nodded her head seriously, as she always did when her grandmother told her seemingly important things.  The advice, despite its usefulness, however, didn’t stick around in her head, and Murphy’s Law didn’t cross Y/N’s mind for fourteen years.

It takes fourteen years for Y/N, who is standing in front of a flight check-in at LAX, two large suitcases next to her, one of which contains two gold wedding bands, passport in hand, and a distressed look on her face, to remember the law her grandmother had once told her about.

“When you get married, Y/N…anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.”

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Y/N pushes the echoing words of her grandmother out of her head. “I’m sorry, just—” She gives a pained smile to the lady working the check in. “Can you explain that to me again, please?”

The lady also takes a deep breath, the smile on her ruby tinted lips just as pained as Y/N’s. “There’s a storm system moving through Utah and Colorado.  These systems have the potential to become tornadoes, and because of that, the conditions for flying are too dangerous right now, so all flights through that area are grounded until further notice.”

“So my flight is cancelled?” Y/N holds up the ticket in her hand that’s stamped with LAX – JFK. “This flight, this flight to New York, which is nowhere near Utah—that’s cancelled?”

The check-in lady, whose name tag reads Brynn, gives another tight smile. “Yes, ma’am.  It’s cancelled.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry, Brynn, but that doesn’t work for me.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely as the manic rush of emotions through her begins to set in.  The denial, she finds, keeps the oncoming panic at bay, and so she decides to focus on that to ground herself. “My best friend is getting married in the Catskills in one week.” Y/N holds up one finger, as if her words are hard for Brynn to understand. “That’s one week from today.  I’m the maid of honour.  I have to be there to help organize, keep her calm, and make sure she actually makes it down the aisle, because—between you and me—she’s got some commitment issues—” The more Y/N speaks, the more her panic begins to spill out in her words, like a dam with a leak that’s about to burst. “And she forgot the goddamn wedding rings, so I have those too, and I just—I really need to get to New York, like, now. Right now.”

Y/N finally pauses to take a sharp breath, and Brynn, who had been waiting for her to finish, speaks again, her voice flatter than before.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am, but as I said, all flights are grounded right now.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Y/N takes another deep breath.  Roll with the punches, her grandmother had told her.  What else is there to do? “Okay.” Y/N is careful to keep her voice in check when she speaks again. “Alright.  Do you know when they’ll be ungrounded?”

“As I’ve said,” Brynn’s smile is more of a grimace now, and Y/N knows that she’s treading on thin ice. “All flights are grounded until further notice.  We’re not sure when we’ll be able to open them again.  It could be a day, or it could be five.  If you’d like, I can put you down on a list to be called when flights are available again, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

“Let’s do that, then.” Y/N relents in a tired voice, already making plans to pick up a coffee on her way back to her apartment.  In the back of her mind, she begins to wonder if she has any Baileys Irish cream liqueur left in her kitchen cabinet—and if 8:30 A.M. is too early to be drinking Baileys with her coffee.

…

It takes Y/N two cups of coffee with Baileys (it had been 10 A.M. by the time she arrived home, thanks to L.A. traffic, and she had decided that 10 A.M. was a fine time to drink when one’s flight gets cancelled indefinitely) to work up the courage to call Jo and tell her that she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to make it to the wedding.

Josephine Waters, or Jo to anyone who doesn’t want to get punched in the arm, has been Y/N’s best friend since the girls were five years old.  They became fast friends on the first day of kindergarten, as Jo liked how Y/N could already colour inside the lines, and Y/N liked how Jo tackled a boy who tugged on Y/N’s pigtails.  From the very beginning, the two were a perfect match for each other; where Y/N was reserved, Jo was wild.  Where Jo was disorganized, Y/N was focused.  Each girl balanced the other in the most natural way, and it’s this fact that Y/N and Jo credit for the two of them staying friends for twenty years. As they grew up together, they grew together, taking the very best traits from the other and using it to help themselves develop.  Y/N had been the first person that Jo came out to, confessing to her best friend during an eighth grade sleepover in a quiet and nervous voice.  To Jo’s pleasure, Y/N had been completely supportive, and returned the favour from the first day of kindergarten by punching a boy in the nose for calling Jo a homophobic slur.  Jo helped Y/N through her parent’s divorce.  Y/N helped Jo manage her ADHD.  Jo talked Y/N through discovering her bisexuality in university. Y/N answered every 3 A.M. phone call to comfort Jo after a panic attack.  In every sense of the word, the two girls had been there for each other.

And now Y/N is going to miss Jo’s wedding.

The harsh realization digs a pit in her stomach as she opens her phone and clicks on Jo’s name.  It’s noon in L.A., which means it’s 3 P.M. in New York time, and Y/N knows Jo will answer.  She always does.

Sure enough, after three short rings, Jo’s voice chirps through the phone. “Hey, Y/N!  Has your flight landed already?”

“No, there’s—there’s been an issue.” Y/N downs another gulp of her coffee, wishing she had added more Baileys when she had the chance, and clears her throat before continuing. “There’s, um, a storm in Utah, and apparently it’s bad, and so all flights from L.A. to New York are grounded until further notice.”

Jo makes a scoffing noise, and Y/N can practically picture the indignant look on her face that she’s seen so many times before. “That’s ridiculous.  Did you tell them that New York is nowhere near Utah?”

“Uh huh.”

“What about that my wedding is in one week?”

“I told them that, too. Brynn didn’t seem to care.”

“Bitch.” Jo mutters under her breath. “Okay, just wait a second, Laure just walked through the door, so I’m putting you on speakerphone—”

Y/N hears rustling on the speaker, as well as muttering in the background as Jo speaks to her fiancée, and then Jo’s voice is back, sounding slightly more distant.

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

“That’s awful, Y/N.” Laure’s voice is laced with stress, and Y/N can only imagine how much anxiety this information is adding to her already full plate. “They won’t tell you when flights will be leaving again?”

“Nope.” Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her free arm around them, leaning her head against the back of her couch.

“Okay, well, planes aren’t the only way to get here.” Laure says, always the more rational out of the two. “Maybe a car—?”

“Y/N doesn’t have one.” Jo chimes in, a hint of teasing in her voice, despite the serious problem that’s in discussion. “She’s scared of driving—”

Y/N sits up, an indignant look on her face. “I’m not scared of driving!” She says hotly, setting her empty coffee mug on the table with a thud. “I just hate L.A. traffic, and honestly, there’s no point!  I can walk to work, and Uber anywhere else I need to go!  A car would be completely useless to me!”

“Except now, when you’re about to miss your best friend’s wedding.” Jo points out. “What about renting one?”

Y/N sighs, her moment of indignation already fizzled out. “I tried that already.  There’s nothing available for a cross country trip.”

“And the drive is so long.” Laure murmurs, and Y/N knows it’s more for Jo’s benefit than hers. “It’s over forty hours.  She can’t do that by herself; it’s not safe.”

“But—”

“Look, Jo, don’t worry about this, alright?” Y/N cuts across her best friend’s anxious voice, assuming her usual role of protector. “I’ll figure this out.  I promise you; I will make it to your wedding on time, looking pretty in my dress, and with your wedding bands.  I promise.”

“We’ll keep thinking about it and see what we can come up with.” Laure promises through the phone, her voice sounding further and further away. “This is just—it’s a bump in the road, but it’s fine.  We can work around this.  We’ll find a way.”

…

The way that Laure finds for Y/N pounds on her door at 7:30 A.M. the next morning.

Y/N, like any exhausted and stressed out adult who has already begun her ten days of vacation time that she booked off for the wedding, is fast asleep in her bed when she hears the knocking.  The loud noise pulls her out from her dreams abruptly, and she cracks one eye open, squinting through the sunlight that’s lighting up her room.  When the knock echoes through her apartment again, she pulls herself from her sheets with a groan, grabbing her robe from the back of her door and tying it around herself as she makes her way to the front hallway to yell at whoever has the audacity to wake her up.

When she opens the door, Harry Styles is peering down at her with an irritated look on his face.

“Took you long enough, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes as he speaks, finally stepping back from the door that he had been pounding on a moment ago. “Are you ready to go?”

Y/N rubs her eyes, suppressing a yawn as she does so. “Styles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.  What are you doing here?” She demands.  She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now, she thinks, let alone the mental capacity to listen to anything he has to say.

Harry crosses his arms across his chest, and it’s then that Y/N notices the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder. “It’s a forty-two hour drive from L.A. to the Catskills.” Harry’s eyes scan over Y/N’s appearance, the very corner of his strawberry pink lips twitching, and Y/N tightens her robe around herself with a glare.

“A drive?” Y/N asks, uncertainty growing in her voice as she crosses her arm over her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Your flight was cancelled, right?” Harry’s voice grows more impatient as Y/N’s half asleep brain struggles to piece together what’s happening. “So was mine, so I decided to drive to the wedding, and then Laure called me last night, begging me to take you with me.” He shrugs a bit, fixing his sunglasses on top of his head as his jade eyes scan over her appearance one more time. “Not my first choice of road trip partner, but I don’t think the best man can say no to bringing the maid of honour.  And splitting the cost of gas will be nice.”

“Okay, wait, I…” Y/N’s finally coming out of her fog of exhaustion, and the newfound clarity of her mind is causing a newfound pit to develop in her stomach. “Laure and Jo didn’t tell me any of this.”

“Well, I expect they’re a bit busy, given that they’re getting married in a week.” Harry adjusts the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder with a sharp sigh. “Look, are you ready to go or not?  It’s over a five day drive, so we need to leave as soon as possible.”

“I—yeah—” Y/N nods before taking a hesitant step back from the doorway, positioning herself to the side so that Harry can get by her. “I just have to get dressed and grab a couple last minute things, so…come in, I guess.”

Harry flashes an insincere smile to Y/N as he steps into her apartment, his eyes darting around at the furniture and home decor.  Y/N watches as his gaze lingers on her library of books, her yellow bicycle leaning against the wall, and every other little touch of herself that she likes her home to have, and she can see the judgement that’s clearly apparent in his eyes.

“You can sit, if you want.” She mutters, turning on her heel to go back to her bedroom. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

The first thing Y/N does when she shuts her bedroom door behind herself is assess the situation in the analytical way that usually calms her.  Alright.  So a road trip across the country isn’t exactly ideal, and a road trip across the country with Harry Styles is even less ideal.  But, at the present moment, being stuck in a car with Harry seems to be the only sure way that she’ll be able to make it to Jo’s wedding on time. And for Jo, Y/N would put up with anything.  Even Harry.

As she rummages through her drawers for some leggings and a tank top, Y/N wonders what she could have possibly done to bring this much bad karma into her life.  While she gets dressed, her mind flickers back to Murphy’s Law, how everything that can go wrong will go wrong, in the worst possible way, and then she thinks about being in a confined space with Harry for five days, and—yeah.  That seems to be the worst possible thing she can think of.

Y/N remembers the first moment she’d met Harry seven years ago, and the unfortunate circumstances under which that meeting had happened.  Jo and Laure had just barely met back then, and Jo had begged Y/N to come out on a double date with her and “this really hot girl from my women studies class who I’m, like, 83% sure swings my way.”

Y/N had groaned at that comment, flopping back on her bed in the tiny dorm that she and Jo shared. “No! I have an essay due in three days that I haven’t even started!”

Jo rolled her eyes as she flopped down on Y/N’s bed as well, ignoring her own half-made bunk that was across the small room, favouring her best friend’s bed like she always did. “We both know you’re not starting that essay until the day before it’s due, and that it’s just an excuse because you don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want to go.” Y/N had agreed with a sharp and fervent nod.  She shut her laptop and pushed it to the side of her bed, knowing from experience that she wasn’t going to be able to focus and argue at the same time. “Why would I want to hang out with a complete stranger while you make googly eyes at a girl from your class?”

“Okay, first, I don’t make googly eyes.” Jo made a face at that comment, nudging Y/N’s calf with her own foot. “And second, he’s her best friend from high school, and he’s coming to visit all the way from London!”

“So?  He’s still a stranger!” Y/N pointed out, her eyes drifting to the sticky note covered novel beside her.  She picks it up and begins to flip through the marked pages as she speaks. “Knowing where he’s from doesn’t change that!”

“It should, because he’s only going to be here for a week, and Laure almost cancelled the date because she doesn’t want to miss spending time with him—” Jo grabbed one of Y/N’s pillows and tossed it at her arm, knocking the book from her hands. “Focus! So I said that he could come, but she said that she didn’t want him to be left out, so I said that I happen to have an incredibly beautiful and witty best friend who would be able to entertain Harry while we all hang out together.”

Y/N inhaled deeply as she gave Jo a withering look. “Did you already tell her I’m going?”

Jo, in return, gave Y/N her most dazzling smile. “Yes.  We’re meeting them for dinner at 7.”

Y/N shakes herself from her memories as she runs to her bathroom to toss her toiletries back into the bag she’d taken them out of the day before, working as quickly as she can. It does her no good to think of Harry in the past, she thinks, because the present Harry is currently sitting in her living room, probably snooping through her stuff, and the longer she takes to get ready to go, the more he’ll go through.  Not that there’s anything incriminating in her apartment, really—or at least, nothing incriminating in her living room.  When Y/N makes it back to her bedroom, however, to quickly zip up her suitcase, she does make sure she grabs her favourite vibrator from the box under her bed, tucking it between her half-folded underwear.  If she’s going to be gone for a week, she’ll need something to help her relax.

Within a few more minutes, Y/N is repacked and ready to go.  Her hunter green bridesmaid dress is carefully arranged on the very top of her clothes in her suitcase, all of her makeup and toiletries are packed inside, and Jo and Laure’s wedding rings are secured in little velvet boxes stashed between her socks.  As far as physical preparedness goes, Y/N is ready to go on a coast to coast road trip. As far as mental preparedness goes, however…that’s the thing that Y/N’s not quite sure about.

…

“What are you doing?”

Y/N glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, her hand still half stretched out to the radio dials in his car.  Although Harry’s green eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, and his face is turned towards the long road in front of them, he still somehow manages to catch her motions, and it irritates her to no end.

“I’m changing the radio station?” Y/N answers after a moment, giving him a puzzled look. “I don’t know why you listen to this weird oldies station, but—”

“First of all—” Harry’s hands turn the steering wheel slightly to guide his car over the curve of the road, his jaw twitching as a smirk works its way onto his pink lips. “This isn’t a radio station, it’s my Spotify playlist.  I put a Bluetooth connection in Stevie a year ago. Secondly—”

“Stevie?” Y/N repeats incredulously, twisting her whole body as best she can to look at Harry straight on. “You named your car?  You’re one of those guys?”

Harry finally gives Y/N a flicker of a glance, the glare obvious in his eyes even behind his dark sunglasses.  He turns his attention back to the road before replying. “Secondly—” He continues from before, ignoring her comment as his right hand readjusts the gear shift. “Driver picks the music.”

Y/N makes a face, the corners of her lips pulling down into a grimace as she settles back into the passenger seat with her arms crossed. “So we’re just going to listen to ‘Tiny Dancer’ for the entire drive, are we?”

“Not the entire drive, no.” Harry flicks on his turn signal with a ringed hand before shoulder checking to change lanes.  Y/N glances at him, her eyes training on the strained muscles in his neck as Harry continues. “We’ll listen to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,’ too.”

“Great.” Y/N exhales slowly and presses her head back into the seat’s headrest, closing her eyes as Elton John’s voice continues to float through the speakers. “Really looking forward to it.”

“You know, maybe you should try to sleep.” Harry says, his voice prickled with irritation as Elton John bleeds into The Zombies. “I think you’ll be in a better mood after you take a nap.”

Y/N readjusts her crossed arms as she mutters a short reply. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Still, she shuts her eyes again, twisting her body towards the window in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep.  Being in the car with Harry is already giving her a throbbing migraine, and they’ve only been on the road for less than two hours.  Sleeping through most of the trip will probably be the only way she’ll be able to survive it.

Despite that realization, however, her phone vibrates in her lap three minutes later, pulling her away from her thoughts.  Y/N glances down at the now lit screen, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she registers the name on the message.  Opening her phone quickly, she reads over the reply as a guilty feeling begins to build in her stomach.

BRANT: Hey, what are you doing tonight?  Want to grab some dinner?

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Y/N’s head snaps back up, her eyes jerking in Harry’s direction.  Like before, he’s watching her from the corner of his eye, catching every one of her movements, and the constant surveillance is annoying to no end.

Harry, it seems, is either oblivious to her annoyance, or is choosing to ignore it. “I asked what’s wrong. You have a weird look on your face.” Harry’s blunt words are accompanied by the sound of him tapping his ring covered fingers against the gear shift. “Everything alright?  Is it Laure and Jo?”

“No, it’s just—” Y/N glances down at her phone again, fingers poised over her keyboard as she crafts a reply in her head. “It’s no one.”

Harry snorts once, a short and harsh sound that grates against Y/N’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “I don’t buy that for a second.”

“It’s no one to you.” Y/N updates her retort, turning her full attention back to her phone. “My personal life is none of your business.”

Y/N: I’m sorry, I can’t!! Caught a last minute ride to New York with somebody.  Maybe once I’m back?

“Personal life, huh?” Harry clicks his tongue once, and the childish noise is even more irritating than his snort. “What, you can’t talk to me about whoever you’re shagging?”

The blunt remark hits Y/N like a shot to the chest, and she sputters for a moment as she struggles to form a response. “I—we’re not—” Taking a moment to gather herself and clear her throat quickly, Y/N avoids Harry’s gaze as her cheeks begin to burn. “We’re not like that. We’ve just…had a few dates, that’s all. There’s nothing…official.”

“You don’t need to be official to have a shag, now, do you?” Harry lifts his hand from the gear shift to fix his sunglasses, settling it back down on his jean covered thigh once he’s done. “If you don’t want to date the bloke—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/N cuts over him, pulling herself from her embarrassment enough to give him a cold glare. “He’s very nice—”

“Boring, you mean—”

“And I—this is none of your business!” Feeling the flush of embarrassment rise back to her cheeks, Y/N once again turns her attention to her passenger seat window, avoiding Harry’s pressing gaze. “I’m done talking about this.”

Harry gives an indifferent shrug. “Whatever.” He says casually, tapping his finger against his thigh as his shoulders once again lift slightly beneath his fitted black t-shirt. “I just feel bad for the guy, that’s all.”

The comment is bait. And the thing is, Y/N knows it’s bait.  She knows that the only reason Harry is saying it is to get under her skin and keep her talking about Brant, further embarrassing herself in the process. She’s been around Harry enough to know how he works, and she knows that the only reason he would say that is to bait her.  She knows she shouldn’t take it.  And yet—

“There’s no reason to feel bad for him.” Y/N scoffs as she fidgets with the position of her seatbelt, trying to stop the strap from cutting into her chest. “We’ve been talking for a month, and there’s nothing official happening.  Just because you can’t go that long without trying to stick your dick in someone—”

“You have no idea what I can do, Y/N.  Don’t pretend that you do.” Harry’s tone of voice is just as scoffing as hers, his eyes still set on the road in front of them intently as he gives his sharp response. Y/N watches as he shifts the gears of the car and speeds up, just enough to make the engine roar, but not enough to lose control of the car.  Part of Y/N wistfully wishes that he would just slip up and crash the car, just so she wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.

“All I meant,” Harry continues, unaware of the dark daydreams running through Y/N’s head. “Is that I feel bad that you’re clearly not interested in him, which is proven by the fact that you haven’t wanted him in your bed.”

Irritation flares through Y/N’s body again, stronger than the embarrassment of discussing her sex life (or lack thereof) with Harry, and she half considers just grabbing the steering wheel and yanking it into a passing cliff so she can finish them off herself. “For Christ’s sake, Harry, sex isn’t the only way to—”

“I don’t mean actually having it, that’s not a given.” Harry rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses as he slows down for a curve in the road, his practiced hands once again changing gears with ease. “You don’t have to fuck him.  But you should want to, especially if you’ve had a month of dates, and you clearly don’t want to.”

Y/N doesn’t hide the incredulous stare of disbelief on her face as she turns to look at him. Harry’s face, though turned towards the road still, has a look of amusement mixed with contemplation on it, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control not to smack the expression off of him. Although there’s the ghost of a smirk on his strawberry coloured lips, his brow is furrowed behind his sunglasses, as if he’s thinking hard about the conversation between them.  Normally, Y/N would be amazed that Harry is thinking hard about anything.  However, given that their conversation is apparently turning into whether or not she wants to have sex with someone, Y/N’s not too thrilled about his sudden investment and serious contemplation of the topic.

Shaking her head decidedly, Y/N finally spits out a finishing phrase. “You don’t know what I want.” She says decidedly, reaching into the backseat to grab the sweater she stashed back there.  She clumsily pulls it over her body without taking off her seatbelt.  Harry keeps the AC cranked as high as he can, and she knows that he’ll kill her if she tries to change it. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know more than you think.” Harry counters, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip. “And I’m pretty good at reading body language.  You don’t really want him.  He—what’s his name?”

Despite her better judgement, Y/N answers in a flat voice. “Brant.”

The corners of Harry’s cherry lip twitches. “Brant.  Yeah. It’s clear you don’t really want him, and you’re wasting your time.  You’re wasting his time, too.  Poor Brant.”

“Poor—you’re such an ass, you know that?” Y/N’s irritation bubbles over as she gives Harry a nasty look, her hand squeezing her thigh hard in an attempt to ground herself in their conversation. “You can try to pretend otherwise, but you don’t know anything about me, or him, so—”

“You think I’ve been friends with Laure and Jo this long and haven’t learned anything about you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, risking a glance at her as he presses a heavier foot onto the gas. “I told you, I know more than you think, and that includes your type.”

An incredulous scoff leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she shakes her head in obvious disbelief before responding. “My type.  Right. What is my type, then?  What’s Brant like, exactly, since you seem to know everything?”

Harry goes quiet then, his brow furrowing again as he returns his full attention to the road.  With his incessant chatter gone, the only sounds in the car being “Maps” playing quietly in the background and Harry’s ringed index and forefinger tap on the steering wheel.  Y/N breathes out a long sigh of satisfaction as she relaxes back in her seat, her attention turned back to the blurred landscapes speeding by her window.  Finally, she’s managed to get Harry to stop with his ridiculous assumptions—

“You like someone that’s stable and secure, so he probably works in some corporation, or an office job. Majored in business, I’d think, but has a minor in something like mathematics.” The side profile of Harry’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the thought. “He wants to work his way up in the company, but never wants to actually start anything on his own.  He likes the stability of a blueprint. You’re obsessed with punctuality, so he’s probably always on time to pick you up for dates—and he has to pick you up, because you don’t drive—and your dates are never really dates. Dinners, or movies, or something like that, but they never really have that spark.” Harry’s shoulder lift slightly as he continues to make his conclusions. “Which, honestly, is probably a big reason in why you don’t want to fuck him, because as much as you like stability and safety, you also like the idea of a grand gesture, or something like that.  And you probably split the bill a lot at dinner, right?  Because it just seems fair, but really it’s because you know it’s not a real date.  But it passes the time, and he’s nice, so it’s fine.  But it’s only fine.” Harry licks his lips once more as he collects his next thoughts, his teeth catching his bottom lip just barely as his tongue retreats back into his mouth. “And he’s probably already talking about you coming to meet his family for some holiday.  Not in a romantic way, but just because he likes to plan everything in advance to every minute detail.  Just like you.”

Halfway through Harry’s speech, a flush had begun to creep up Y/N’s neck, continuing to warm her jaw and ears before settling on the apples of her cheeks.  She keeps her eyes trained on her window and her mouth pressed into a tight line, refusing to look at Harry and give him any hint of just how shocked she is that he’s guessed so much.

Harry, however, doesn’t plan on letting her get away from his inquisition. “Well?” He impatiently prompts after a moment, and even though she’s not looking at him, she can feel him looking at her, his emerald irises burning into the back of her head. “Am I right?”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat quickly, but her voice is still strained and tight when she replies. “No.”

Harry hums low in his throat, and his voice is laced with curiosity with he replies. “Really?” The irritating tap of his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music continues. “What did I get wrong?”

“He—” Y/N hates the way her skin is burning from his interrogation, how her voice shrinks smaller and smaller the more she speaks.  If Harry knows her so well, then he knows how much she loves being in control, and in this situation, with Harry managing to pull every one of her most secret inner thoughts and feelings out of her without trouble, she feels anything but in control. “He has a minor in accounting, not mathematics.”

The laugh that leaves Harry’s mouth is loud and bombastic, and his whole body curves over the steering wheel as the sound rolls out of him, his eyes just barely managing to stay on the road while his sunglasses slide down his nose. “Right.” Harry says between belly laughs, his voice stretched out in amusement. “But everything else was spot on?”

Y/N keeps her stiff body turned towards the window, refusing to engage in the conversation any further. That doesn’t stop Harry, however, who fixes his sunglasses as chuckles continue to roll out of him.

“I take it back. Maybe he’s the one wasting your time.” His hand runs through his hair lazily, fixing the curled strands that had fallen into his eyes as he laughed. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with your bore of a boyfriend—”

“He’s stable!” Y/N breaks her silence to protest Harry’s words, her voice heated. “And he’s not my boyfriend.  We’ve been seeing each other, but we’re not—it’s not exclusive, or—nothing serious—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.  It’s fine.” Harry waves off her arguments with a flick of his tattooed hand. “Besides, like you said, it’s none of my business, right?”

Y/N can practically picture what Harry looks like in this moment.  His chestnut curls are probably a mess from fidgeting with them, and his cheeks are most likely rosy beneath his stubble from the peels of laughter that left his equally red lips a moment ago.  Most infuriatingly of all, his dimples are probably present, making little indentations in his cheeks to show how entertaining he’s found embarrassing her. Bastard, she thinks, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dig into her palms, pressing them into her sides beneath her makeshift blanket.

She refuses to let herself confirm if her suspicions about Harry’s appearance are correct, and instead keeps her gaze on the blurred trees whipping by outside her window. “Right.” She mutters, leaning her head against the headrest as she closes her eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

…

As soon as the paint-peeled door to the motel room swings open, Y/N knows that she’s not going to be sleeping soundly tonight.

She’s not sure what her first hint should have been.  Perhaps it was the half-flickering blue and red light of the Motel 6 sign that should have tipped her off, or the front-desk attendant who looked as though he was hiding a few secrets himself.  When Y/N and Harry had first approached the front desk of the tiny, vaguely mildew-smelling lobby, their clothes rumpled from the drive and their attitudes just as bothered, the employee in the Motel 6 uniform had barely raised an eye at them, not bothering to look up from his computer until Y/N and Harry were directly in front of him.

“Hi.” Harry had said, his voice taking on a cautious but polite tone that, Y/N remembers thinking, she would have appreciated hearing throughout their eight hour drive that day. “We’d like two rooms, please—”

“Here.” The attendant’s gum snapped in his mouth as he reached behind himself and grabbed an old key with a flimsy blue plastic tag from a wall of empty pegs. “Queen sized bed, the first door on the left.  It’ll do you two nicely.”

“Um, no.” Harry cleared his throat loudly as he gave a slight shake of his head. “We need two rooms.”

Finally, the attendant looked towards them, his eyes scanning Harry before Y/N.  The latter had self consciously pulled her sweater around her, as there was something in the attendant’s eyes that had bothered her. “Don’t have two rooms.  I got one room left.  Everything else is booked.”

Harry had glanced at Y/N then, and she knew that his thoughts mirrored hers: there was no way that they’d share a queen bed together.  No way in hell.  They’d barely survived eight hours in the same cramped car without one of them driving them off a cliff.  If Y/N had to share a bed with Harry, even for just one night, she’d probably end up smothering him in his sleep before the first snore left his obnoxious mouth.

“That’s really not an option.” Y/N had stepped forward then, crossing her arms around herself as the attendant’s eyes canvassed her again. “Isn’t there something—”

“Look, lady, I’m telling you what’s available.” The attendant’s eyes continued to flicker between her face and her chest, making Y/N’s skin crawl more and more with every word that fell from his gum-filled mouth. “The room might have a pull out chair—some do, but I couldn’t tell you which.  Now do you want to share the room with him or not?  If you don’t want to share, then I could try to find something else for just you—”

Before Y/N had the opportunity to respond to the lewd suggestion, Harry was already stepping forward, his body angling protectively in front of her own.  She watched from behind as his broad shoulders squared beneath his black t-shirt, his shoulder blades flexing as he straightened up to his full height.  When Harry answered, his voice was just as firm as it was dark, lacking its previous polite tone.

“We’ll take the room.” He had said coldly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet before tossing a few bills on the front desk. “Thanks for the help.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, all of that should have been a sign for the state of the motel room that they now find themselves standing inside.

The same mildew smell from the lobby surrounds them, permeating through every inch of air that Y/N breathes in. Dust seems to coat every surface as well, with thick layers of it covering the decades old TV and stand, the small coffee table, and the ledge of the window to her right.  To her relief, there is a small arm chair in the corner, which must be the pull out that the attendant had mentioned.  However, her relief is short lived when she sees the ratty beige comforter on the bed, and wonders if maybe sleeping in Harry’s car, which she had sworn to him that she didn’t want to do, might have been the better choice.

Harry shuts the door behind them with a firm thud, turning the deadbolt lock before attaching the chain from the door to the door frame. “Let’s keep that locked, yeah?” He mutters, walking to the window and making sure the beige curtains—everything in the room is a sea of beige, like some sort of khaki coloured nightmare—are pulled closed tightly. “I don’t trust that front-desk prick not to sneak in here.”

Y/N nods, fixing the strap of her duffel bag with her overnight clothes on her shoulder.  She’s not quite sure where to set it down, as everything around them seems to have been sitting stagnant and uncleaned for a while. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way.  For that.”

Harry acknowledges her thanks with a small grunt, barely lifting his head to look at her. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Despite her gratitude for his actions, Y/N can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his gruff response. “Jesus, can you not just say you’re welcome?”

Harry chooses to ignore her comment, and instead sets his bag down on the arm chair, unzipping it roughly. “You can take the bed.” He says simply, tossing his sunglasses into his bag before pulling out a small bag filled with what Y/N assumes are toiletries. “I’ll take the pullout.”

“Fine.” Y/N reluctantly sets her own bag down on the creaking bed, pulling back the covers to check for anything unsightly.  To her relief, the interior of the bed looks cleaner than the exterior, and she returns the covers to their previous position before grabbing her phone charger from her duffel.

Harry glances at her as she gingerly sits on the bed and plugs her phone into the wall. “I’m going to shower.” He says slowly, as if gauging her reaction to the simple phrase. “Do you, um, need in there, or—?”

“Nope.” Y/N shakes her head, her cheeks flushing slightly as she checks her messages. “You’re good.” She keeps her eyes glued to her phone until she hears the click of the bathroom door behind Harry, signalling that she’s alone.

Taking advantage of what she knows will be a rare moment of solitude over the next week, Y/N changes from her tank top and leggings into her pajamas, wishing that her past self had realized how likely it would be that she’d be sharing a room with Harry. She’d brought exactly two pairs of pajamas with her on the trip, and neither pairs were something she wanted Harry to see her in.  The first pair, a baby pink silk set she’d bought on a whim from her favourite lingerie shop, is eliminated before Y/N even considers them, leaving her with just her usual casual pajamas.  Unfortunately, Y/N’s usual casual pajamas consist of an old sports bra that she’d had since moving to L.A., and a pair of men’s boxers that she stole from an ex in college.  Still, despite her hesitancy, she knows that plaid boxers and a faded grey sports bra are better than pink silk and lace, and she changes into them quickly before sitting cross-legged on the bed and dialing Jo’s number.

Jo, like she usually does, answers on the third ring, her voice extra chipper to compensate for the verbal lecture that she knows is coming. “Hey, Y/N!  How was driving today?”

“It would have been better if I’d known Harry was driving.” Y/N sighs, rubbing her palm over the cold skin of her exposed thigh. “Shouldn’t I have been informed of that decision?”

“It completely slipped my mind, actually.” Jo says casually, and Y/N can just picture her leaning her chin into her palm. “How was the first day?  Are you calling to ask me to help bury his body in the desert?  Because, like, you know I would in a heart beat, but I think it may put a damper on mine and Laure’s nuptials if my best friend murders her best friend.”

“No one’s been murdered. Yet.” Y/N glances at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower echoing through the vents and into the bedroom. “Although a ‘help me hide the body’ phone call may be coming soon.”

“Uh oh.” Y/N hears something crackling against the speaker, and pictures Jo shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “Is it that bad?”

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose as she contemplates the easiest way to answer Jo’s question. “He’s such an irritating ass.  He really is.” She lowers her voice, but only slightly.  If Harry’s eavesdropping, she thinks, then let him hear.  It would serve him right. “He wanted to pick a fight over every little thing, and he’s so particular about his car—did you know he named it?  He named it, Jo.  He talks about it like it’s a person!”

A loud sigh echoes through the speaker. “That’s really not that weird, you know.” Jo replies in her best peace keeping voice. “And, by the way, did you know that you’re really the only person who finds Harry irritating?  Laure adores him, and I really like him, and everyone who meets him thinks he’s very thoughtful!”

“Then they haven’t been trapped in a car with him and his playlists for eight hours.” Y/N begins to tap her fingers against her knee in a quick staccato pattern. “He practically interrogated me about Brant today, as if he has any clue about the people I date.”

“Did he?” There’s a trace of curiosity in Jo’s voice now, and Y/N can imagine her leaning forward in interest. “What did he say?”

“He said he thinks he’s boring.” Twisting a lock of her hair behind her ear as she speaks, Y/N leaves her hand resting against her cheek. “He was rude about it, too.  I didn’t ask for his opinion.”

“Well, honestly, Y/N…” Jo’s curiosity twists into hesitation. “Brant isn’t exactly the most thrilling person.  You know that.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks flushing for what seems to be the millionth time that day. “I’m aware of that.  But he didn’t need to be so smug about it!”

“Okay, well, what’s done is done.” Jo says as she takes on her mediator persona once again. “So there’s nothing else to do now except go to sleep, get back in the car tomorrow, and continue driving.”

The sound of the shower stream cuts off, leaving just the pitter patter of rain beginning to hit the roof of the motel as ambiant noise. “I guess.” Y/N mumbles, fidgeting with the waistband of her bra. “I’ll talk to you later.  Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After the line clicks dead, Y/N flops back on the squeaking mattress and begins to scroll through her phone, opening her work email to check if everything is running okay back home while she’s gone.  On top of all this, the last thing she needs is for her work to completely blow up in her absence.  Within minutes, Y/N becomes so engrossed in her phone that she doesn’t even notice the bathroom door creaking open and Harry walking out with just a towel around his waist.

Until she looks up, and then her mind goes completely blank.

Immediately, Y/N feels overstimulated.  There’s just…so much going on that she doesn’t even know where to look first, let alone have the ability to remind herself that she shouldn’t even be looking at Harry like this in the first place.  

Harry’s curls are soaking wet, curling down around his flushed cheeks in a way that, if it were anyone else, she’d immediately describe as attractive.  Droplets of water are clinging to every inch of his skin, his toned and tanned and tattooed skin, that seems to continue forever as her eyes travel down his bare chest, noticing every curve of his muscle.  His jade cross, which is almost the exact shade of his eyes, sits between his pronounced pectoral muscles, moving ever so slightly with each step he takes.  Y/N notices tattoos she’s never seen before, like the giant butterfly across his toned stomach, and—her mind goes blank for just a moment—two vines that are tattooed over his prominent pelvic muscles, which just barely dip beneath the white towel that’s wrapped loosely around his hips.

As Y/N’s eyes glue themselves to the way Harry’s towel is moving as he walks, arousal begins to pool in her stomach, travelling all the way down to her core and back again.  For a split second, she thinks that maybe Harry is right.  Maybe she doesn’t want to fuck Brant, because she knows for certain that she’s never thought about him the way she’s thinking about Harry in this moment.

But it’s Harry, she reminds herself, as she tries to force herself to snap her gaping mouth closed. Underneath all those muscles and tattoos—and there are a lot of muscles and tattoos—it’s Harry, who annoys her to no end, who is one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’s ever met, and who has had it out for her since the day they met.

“Sorry.” Harry’s low accent snaps Y/N from her thoughts and pulls her wandering eyes back to his face. “Forgot my clothes out here.”

“It’s—” Y/N’s voice cracks in the middle of the word, still hyper-focused on just how it’s possible for one person to be as attractive as they are irritating, and she clears her throat before trying to speak again. “It’s fine.”

If Harry notices the slip in Y/N’s voice, he doesn’t say anything.  Instead, he just walks to his open bag, locking one hand firmly over his towel as the other searches through his clothes.  He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, examining them for just a moment before nodding in satisfaction and heading back to the bathroom. Y/N almost swears that she sees him glance at her one last time before he shuts the door, but then she gets lost in the taut muscles of his back, and forgets what she’s thinking entirely.

She’s only just begun to contemplate that maybe she should pull herself together when the door opens again, and Harry exits the bathroom in a way that’s a little more presentable.  His hair is still damp, but his body is dry, proven by the faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s now clinging to his arms and the boxers that are hanging low on his hips. His tattooed hips.  His incredibly sexy tattooed hips that could probably—

“What are you wearing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at her as he moves his bag from the chair to the ground.  He begins to unfold the bed from the armchair cushions to reveal a creaking twin bed, carefully stretching it out as he waits for an answer.

“I—pajamas.” Y/N glances down at herself self consciously, fixing the strap of her sports bra as she does so. “I just—I didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, so…”

Harry nods tersely as he finishes setting up the bed, his expression unreadable while he walks to the closet and grabs a set of sheets and a blanket. “Cute boxers.” He says casually. “Are they Brant’s?”

Within a flash, the intense rush of attraction and desire Y/N had been feeling is gone, and is instead replaced by the familiar irritation as she watches a smirk grow in the very corner of Harry’s mouth. “No.” She says flatly, turning her attention back to her phone.

“Interesting.” Harry says slowly, laying the sheets and blanket on the bed in a haphazard manner. “Whose are they, then?”

Y/N gets up from the bed and grabs her toiletry bag from her duffel before answering. “An ex.” She says shortly, tucking the patterned bag under her arm. “And why does it matter to you?”

The sound of the rain against the roof and windows gets louder and louder as they speak, and Harry raises his voice to be heard over the precipitation. “It doesn’t.” He shrugs as he maneuvers his lanky body under the blanket without causing the bed to fold in on itself. “Just curious, that’s all.”

“Well, you don’t need to be curious.” Y/N opens the bathroom door, sparing one last withering glance at Harry over her shoulder.  He’s sitting up on the bed with one leg hanging out from beneath the covers as one hand plays with his hair, the other fiddles with a ring on his finger, and the way he looks at her from the corner of his eye lights a fire in Y/N’s chest.  Except she can’t tell if it’s a fire of anger or arousal.  

When she slams the door behind her, it’s her own confusion over that distinction that frustrates her more than anything else.

…

“Took you long enough.” Harry scoffs while leaning against the side of his car, his white t-shirt a contrast to the dust covered body of the black Chevy Impala.  His dark sunglasses are perched on top of his head, keeping his unruly curls out of his eyes, while his arms are crossed over his chest impatiently as he waits for an answer. “I dropped off the keys ten minutes ago.”

By way of explanation, Y/N holds up the cardboard drink tray in her hands, a brown bag balancing in between the two coffee cups. “I was getting us breakfast, Styles.  Calm down.” She walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and climbing in one handed. “I figured you’d be even crabbier hungry.”

“You mean you’d be crabbier without caffeine.” Harry retorts, climbing into the driver’s side in one smooth motion. “Here—” He takes the tray from her so she can buckle her seatbelt, carefully removing the two coffees and setting them in the cup holders between them. “Just be careful not to spill anything.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she picks up the coffee closest to her (she’d gotten them both black). “Why? Worried about me ruining Stevie?”

Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys as he gives her an irritated look. “Yes, actually. I’ve put a lot of work into her.” The car roars to life as Harry turns the key in the ignition, buckling his own seat as the motor warms up. “Adding on two thousand miles to her in five days is already worrisome enough, and that’s not even counting the other two thousand she’ll get on the way back.”

Y/N doesn’t respond to the comment, and instead lets the sound of Harry’s playlist fill the silence of the car as Harry peels out of the Motel 6 parking lot.  She’ll be glad to leave that place behind, she thinks, and focus on finding something better—and more private—for tonight, wherever they end up.

Harry, however, doesn’t seem content with letting silence fall between them. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks after a few moments, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye suspiciously, Y/N reaches into the paper bag and grabs her Danish, taking a small bite before answering. “Not great.”

“Was the bed bad?” Harry asks curiously, his brow furrowing while his eyes stay glued to the road, moving only to glance at the occasion sign directing him back to the highway. “The pull out wasn’t great, but I’ve slept on worse.  I would’ve thought the bed would be better than that.”

“No, it—I mean, the bed wasn’t amazing, but it—” Y/N clears her throat and swallows the bite of pastry in her mouth. “I, uh, I don’t sleep well when it’s raining.”

At this new information, Harry’s eyebrow quirks up, and he risks a look in her direction to attempt to read her face.  Y/N’s own eyes are focused on the Danish in her hands, refusing to meet his gaze as she lifts the pastry to her mouth to take another bite.

“You don’t?” Harry asks after a moment, the confusion in his voice almost visible within the space between them. “But it’s like white noise, isn’t it?  Supposed to be relaxing, and all that.”

Y/N gives a half shrug of her shoulders. “It’s—well, it’s not the rain, exactly, just—what it’s usually paired with.” Y/N hopes that her clear hesitancy to answer will be enough of a signal to Harry for him to drop the subject.  Harry, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on the reluctance in Y/N’s voice; or, at least, he doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“What do you mean, what it’s paired with?” Harry takes a small sip of his own coffee, careful of the temperature of the liquid. “Like…wind, or—?”

Y/N debates back and forth with herself internally, but she knows that Harry won’t drop the subject without getting a satisfying answer. “Thunder.” She answers finally, setting her coffee down in her cup holder before turning her gaze towards her window. “I don’t like thunderstorms, ever since I was a little kid, and when it’s raining, it always feels like thunder is around the corner.  Puts me on edge, like I’m waiting for it.  And I can’t sleep.”

“So you never sleep when it rains?” Harry asks slowly, and the tone of incredulous disbelief in Harry’s voice is enough for Y/N to be able to imagine the expression on his face. His forest green eyes wide, strawberry pink lips agape, brow furrowed in confusion, his jaw slack as he contemplates a response to a grown woman admitting that she’s afraid of thunder. The image in her head is enough to make the back of her neck flush.

There’s a tightness in the back of her throat, and Y/N attempts to clear it again before answering. “Never.”

“Huh.” Harry taps his fingers against the gear shift in succession three times. “You’d hate London, then.”

The casual comment catches Y/N by surprise, but she doesn’t allow herself to lower her guard. “That’s why I don’t live in London.” She mumbles the words as her fingers pick at the napkin wrapped around her Danish. “I picked L.A. for a reason.  It has lots of heat, barely any rain, and I’m reasonably close to Disneyland whenever I feel like I need something magical.” The last part slips out without Y/N thinking, and the flush creeps further up her neck as a surprised laugh leaves Harry’s mouth.

“Something magical?” Harry repeats, new crinkles appearing next to his eyes as he laughs, as if the dimples that crease his cheeks aren’t proof of his amusement enough. “Do you frequently feel like you need something magical?”

It’s Y/N’s turn to give an incredulous look now, her body half twisting towards Harry to observe his confusing reactions. “How did I just admit that I’m afraid of thunder, and the thing you’re focusing on is that I like Disney?”

Harry shrugs at her words, flicking on his turn signal to exit towards the highway. “I don’t know.” He says as he peers over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. “I mean, everyone has fears.  Not liking thunder isn’t exactly uncommon, you know.  However, hearing that Ms. Serious Type A Perfectionist likes magic—” His grin grows bigger by the second. “Now that’s surprising.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N mutters, finishing her Danish in a few more bites.  She waits until she’s entirely finished chewing before continuing the conversation over the voice of Billy Joel coming through the speakers. “Since I’ve admitted something I’m afraid of…” She starts, glancing at Harry from the corner of her eye. “I think it’s only fair that you admit something, too.”

Harry snorts in response, his hand freezing its movement with his coffee cup still half lifted to his lips. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N hums as she slips off her shoes in order to pull her legs beneath her to fold into a cross-legged position on the car seat. “Not so much fun when it’s your turn, huh? C’mon, what’s the Brit scared of? Not enough biscuits for afternoon tea?”

A short and harsh breath of air leaves Harry’s nose, half a snort as he sets his coffee down in his cupholder. “No, actually, diminishing biscuit levels are a low level fear for me.”

“Then what’s a higher one?” Y/N prods, watching as Harry’s neck muscles tense as he shoulder checks to change lanes.  There’s something about the movement that catches her eye, but she can’t quite figure out why—or rather, she can, but she’d rather pretend that she’s unaware.

“Uh…” Harry’s fingers nimbly switch on his turn signal before he transitions to the left lane, his right hand moving the gear shift to its desired place. “Crowds.  I’m not a fan of big crowds, really.  Like when everyone’s pressed together, so tight that you can’t breathe, and you can’t hear yourself think because it’s so loud…yeah. I don’t like that.”

The simple answer surprises Y/N as much as she imagines her answer surprised Harry. “Crowds?” She repeats back to him, a forgotten memory of long gone conversations coming to the forefront of her mind. “But what about, like, concerts and stuff?  Laure always told me when she’d go to shows with you…”

“That’s different.” Harry shrugs as one of his ringed hands comes to his lips, rubbing over them slowly as he contemplates his next words. “I…When I’m at concerts, I always go with someone, and if we’re in the general seating area, where there’s a lot of people, I always stick with them.  Like, sometimes, if it’s getting crowded, or people are pushing, Laure will hold my hand, so…” Redness begins to creep up Harry’s pale neck, staining the tops of his ears a deep berry colour as he trails off.

Not for the first time since their conversation began, Y/N is surprised at how candid they’re being with each other.  As she watches Harry’s blush grow, she feels her own diminish, a physical representation of her trading her embarrassment for something more empathetic.

“I get it.” Y/N says after a moment, once it’s clear that Harry isn’t going to continue. “When there’s thunderstorms, um, I feel better when I’m with someone, or talking to someone. It makes me feel less…”

“Alone?” Harry finishes for her, his eyes flickering from the road to her profile.  His green irises capture hers for longer than they should, his focus completely gone from the stretch of highway for at least five seconds before Harry’s attention turns back to driving. “Yeah.” He says slowly, pulling his sunglasses down from his hair to hide his eyes. “Yeah, less alone. It helps.”

Y/N nods slowly, unable to look away from Harry’s side profile.  It’s apparent that he’s on edge after their conversation, and she knows her body language is the same.  Tight in the shoulders, hands clenched, back rigidly straight.  And yet, seeing her own body language reflected in front of her bothers her.  Part of her wants to reach out and take Harry’s hand, soothe him like Laure does in the crowd of a concert, but she knows that’s ridiculous.  It’s ridiculous, and it’s Harry, and Harry, of all people, does not need her comfort.  Not in the slightest.

She watches as Harry clenches his fist on top of his thigh.

…

“Is this really necessary?” Y/N asks, slamming her car door shut as Harry does the same on the other side of the vehicle.  She leans over the roof of the car, crossing her arms on the cool metal as she tilts her head to the side in an inquisitive manner.  The clouds in the sky are getting darker by the minute, signalling the beginning of the storm that canceled her flight, and the angry black colour above their heads is making Y/N anxious.

Harry, however, seems unbothered by the gathering storm, and nods tersely as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head before opening the door to the backseat and grabbing his army green jacket. “Of course it’s necessary.” He says, slipping the jacket over his broad shoulders before slamming the door shut and locking the car. “I’ve never been to Utah before.  I want a souvenir.”

“Okay, but—” Y/N follows Harry as he walks towards the dilapidated building in front of them. “Here? Really?  Does this seem like the best place?”

Harry glances at her over his shoulder at her, pausing his long strides to look up at the building he spotted from the highway.  If the chipped grey paint that was once pastel blue and dust-coated windows are any sign, the structure is probably older than Harry and Y/N combined, with a splintered front porch wrapping around its small perimeter.  The building has one faded sign above the door that reads “SOUVENIRS/SNACKS” in hand-painted capital letters, and seems to be hanging onto the outside façade by three small bolts and sheer willpower.  Y/N’s almost certain that she’s seen this exact building in a horror movie before someone gets murdered, and while getting back into the car with Harry isn’t at the top of her list of wants, it’s certainly preferable to getting stabbed to death by a serial killer.

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Harry waves off her concern without a second thought about the appearance of the shop. “If you’re really bothered, you can wait in the car.”

Y/N considers it for a moment, but decides against it.  She needs to stretch her legs, and honestly, Harry seems too trusting.  He probably wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was sketchy until their knife was in his back.  And, seeing as how he has the keys to the only getaway car available, Y/N kind of needs him around without a stab wound carved into his flesh.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She sighs, pulling her own jacket around her tighter as she steps over the worn wooden steps to the door. “We’re on a schedule.”

When Harry pushes open the door, the smell of stale air hits Y/N before anything else.  Despite one open window and a fan in the corner of the shop that’s being used in a weak attempt to circulate the air, it feels like nothing fresh has been in the shop for a while.  Y/N shoots a glance at Harry, caution and warning written all over her face.

While Harry sees her glance, he waves off her concern, turning his attention to the few shelves and wire racks around the small shop that are lined with inventory.  Within a few moments, he’s entertaining himself in the post card section, comparing different photos of the Utah landscape to each other with great care and concern.  Y/N observes him for a few moments before wandering off on her own towards the snack section of the shop.  Although there are a few items that she thinks about picking up, the thick layer of dust over the packaging puts her off from purchasing them.  She grimaces as she continues walking, stopping in front of a tower of silver key chains in the back corner of the shop.  Most of them, she finds, are crosses and bible verses, and all of them give her an ominous feeling in her stomach.  Y/N runs her finger over a miniature silver version of the Ten Commandments, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she does so.

“I think we should go, Harry.” She calls to him without turning around, setting the key chain back down on the rack carefully. “Just pick your post card and—Harry?”

When Y/N turns around, Harry’s broad figure is nowhere to be seen.  She walks back over to the post card section slowly, her brow furrowed with confusion as a knot tightens in her stomach.  Where could he be? She wonders, running her hand along the dusty wire rack in front of her.  It’s not like there’s anywhere for him to go in the small shop, and she would have heard if he left, or if he drove away.

“Harry?” She calls again, her steps slower now as worry fills her voice. “Where did you—fuck—!” Y/N screams as something grabs her from behind, its fingers digging into her sides harshly.  She whips around to find Harry standing over her, loud outbursts of laughter spilling from his strawberry pink mouth at the look on her face.

An indignant flush rushes over Y/N’s face. “You’re such an ass!” She hisses, gripping his shoulders and shoving his laughing frame away from her. “I swear, you’re like a five year old—”

“Did I worry you?” Harry snickers between his words, a wicked look of mischief alight in his dark green eyes. “Were you afraid something happened to me?”

Y/N’s cheeks burn with anger as she turns away from him, crossing her arms defiantly. “No.  I wish something had happened to you.  Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your immature antics.”

Harry’s lips stay quirked up in a smirk as he follows her, his voice falling into a singsong tone. “You were worried.” He insists, chuckles still rolling out of him every few moments. “I could tell.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Y/N snaps at him in an irritated voice. “Just pay for your stupid post card and let’s go.”

“I already did. There’s a sign on the desk saying the clerk is out for lunch, so I left some money.” Harry nods to the small desk in the corner with a few dollars left tucked under the dusty service bell. “I think that’ll cover it, yeah?”

“Whatever.” Y/N can’t resist shoving Harry one last time before walking towards the shop door. “That’s enough.  Let’s go. I want to make it to the motel before the storm hits.”

…

The nice thing about Grand Junction, Colorado, Y/N realizes, is that their motels have multiple single rooms available on short notice.  While she didn’t realize the importance of this fact before this trip started, having an evening of solitude and her own stable space away from Harry for the first time in two days is nothing short of a blessing.

When she gets inside her private motel room, which, while still shabby, is leagues above their previous motel, Y/N locks the door before breathing a sigh of relief.  Just the silence in the room is wonderful, and even though she knows Harry is right next door, having a wall between them is a luxury that she doesn’t take for granted.  When she showers, she doesn’t have to worry about being quick, or toweling off as fast as she can so she can get dressed inside the bathroom without Harry seeing. There’s no need to worry about anyone hearing Y/N sing quietly to herself under the (albeit weak) stream of the shower, nor is there an uncomfortable stick of her sports bra to her back caused by water droplets that she couldn’t reach in her hurry to dry off. And after her shower, with some of the knots from her back finally worked out, Y/N is able to stretch out on the double bed in the center of the room, her phone in her hand as she reaches for the takeout menus stacked on the bedside table.  She peruses the menus available before settling on Chinese takeout, and within five minutes, her order of a two entrée plate and fried rice is on its way.

Y/N sighs gently as she leans back on the pillows, wishing that she and Harry had stopped at a liquor store before coming to the motel.  She knows she could probably walk to one, but now that she’s showered and comfortable, the last thing she wants to do is wander around Grand Junction until she finds a bottle of Moscato.  Instead, Y/N flicks on the TV with a click of the ancient remote, and begins scrolling through the channels until she finds a rerun of Dirty Dancing that’s just starting.

An amused yet wry smile appears on Y/N’s lips.  It’s this movie’s fault that she and Harry are on an impromptu road trip, really. Jo and Laure both loved it, and were insistent that they had to get married at a resort in the Catskills similar to one from the film.  As her two friends cross her mind, Y/N settles into the sheets as Baby begins her narration, contemplating whether or not she should call Jo to check in.  Just as the thought pops into her head, however, the phone rings.

Y/N answers within a moment, not bothering to check the caller ID.  She and Jo had a strange habit of calling each other the moment the other thought of it, and when she raises her phone to her ear, she expects to hear her best friend’s familiar voice reply. “Hello?”

What voice she actually hears, however, surprises her. “Hey, Y/N.  I’m glad I got through.” Brant says easily, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “How are you?”

“Brant!” Y/N jerks up in bed in surprise, the remote falling from its perch on her stomach onto the sheets. “I—I’m fine.  How are you?”

“Oh, alright.  Just busy with work, but that’s the usual.” Y/N can practically picture the neutral expression on his face, and how he’d shrug his shoulders as he speaks. “How’s the road trip?  I can’t imagine driving for as long as you have to drive.”

“It’s…it’s alright, yeah.” Y/N speaks slowly as she puts her phone on speaker, balancing it on her knee while her hands begin to fidget with her rings. “Long, but not too bad.”

“Well, that’s good.” Brant clears his throat thickly, as if what he’s about to say makes him uncomfortable. “I miss you, though.  And our weekly dinners.”

A feeling of guilt washes over Y/N.  Truthfully, besides Harry’s inquisition on the first day of driving, Brant has barely crossed her mind.  Granted, he isn’t usually at the forefront of her mind while she’s in L.A., either, but for the last few days, her thoughts have been constantly consumed by the stress of making it to the wedding and her annoyance and frustration with Harry.  

“Y/N?” Brant’s voice crackles through her speaker again. “Are you there?

“I—yeah.” She says quickly, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Sorry, just—long day.  I’m tired.”

“I can imagine.” Brant says sympathetically, but there’s something in his tone that almost sounds patronizing. “Who are you driving with?  Have you been taking turns?”

Y/N pauses the fidgeting of her rings before snatching her phone from its balanced place on her knee. She quickly opens her messages and scrolls to her thread with Brant, searching through the text bubbles for a reminder of what she’d said to him.  Had she not told him that she was traveling with Harry?

Within a moment, Y/N confirms that she hadn’t.  All she had said was that she was getting a ride with someone.  Why had she done that, she wonders?  She’s sure she’s mentioned Harry in passing to Brant at least once.  When she talked about the wedding, probably.  As she thinks about it more, however…what had she told Brant about the wedding?  About Jo? How much does he actually know about her personal life?  Most of their dinner conversations revolve around work, or some book both of them have read.  Had the topic ever come up in detail?

“I’m, um, I’m driving with one of Laure’s friends.” Y/N brings the phone closer to her mouth as her other hand works its way to her mouth.  She begins to chew on a hangnail absentmindedly between her words, something she always does when her nerves begin to get to her.  She can’t count the number of times Jo has grasped her wrist and pulled her hand from her mouth to chastise her about the habit. “We’re…we’re in Colorado now.”

“Oh, Colorado.  That’s nice.” Brant says over the rustling of papers. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve got some work to get back to, but I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll call you again soon.”

“Uh, yeah.  Sure.  I’ll talk to you later.” Y/N nods, and then the line goes dead.  Out of curiosity, Y/N checks the length of the call.  The time 3:09 blinks back at her.

Tossing her phone back down on the covers, Y/N resumes her relaxed position in bed, despite being anything but relaxed after that phone call.  She should feel guilty, she thinks, for not telling Brant about Harry. But then again, what’s there to tell? She said she was getting a ride with one of Laure’s friends, and that’s true.  She hadn’t lied.  And even if Brant did know that the friend is Harry, why would he care?  It’s just Harry.  There’s no reason for Brant to be alarmed, because there’s nothing going on. And she and Brant…Y/N glances down at the call time again.  Things are different between them.  There’s…they’re comfortable as they are, she thinks.  They’re not dating, and they’re comfortable like that.  So there’s no reason to tell him about Harry, because there’s nothing to tell.  Nothing at all.

Y/N refocuses on the TV screen, where Patrick Swayze is dancing in a tight black tank top. Right.  Nothing to tell.

…

When Y/N leaves her motel room the next morning with her bag over her shoulder, Harry is already waiting by his car, leaning against the dusty black body with two coffee cups in his hands.  He’s dressed in another black t-shirt (Y/N wonders just how many identical copies of the same shirt Harry has) with usual jeans covering his long legs.  His curls are tied out of his face with a dark green bandana, and Y/N knows that if his eyes weren’t covered with his black sunglasses, the bandana would make them even brighter than they usually are.

“Hey.” Harry calls to her, extending a ringed hand that holds a coffee cup towards her as she walks over. “I got the coffee this morning.  You drink it black, right?”

Y/N nods as she takes the cup from him, careful not to brush over his fingers with her own. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Harry crosses around to the back of the car, opening the trunk with a turn of his key. “Here.” Harry holds out his free hand for Y/N’s bag, taking it from her and setting it down on top of the suitcases in the back. “I got it.”

Y/N regards Harry with a bemused look as she wraps both hands around her coffee cup. “Thanks?” She says again, more questioning this time as she looks at him strangely. “I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know.  I’m just trying to be polite.” Harry’s voice takes on its usual bite like he’s flipping a switch. “Is that alright with you, princess?”

Within a second, the familiar irritation with Harry returns to Y/N, and it’s almost comforting to snap back at him in a testy voice. “Don’t call me that.”

Harry snickers under his breath, and although the sound makes Y/N’s annoyance grow, she detects a different tone in it than a few days before.  Before she can place a finger on why it sounds different, however, Harry is climbing into the driver’s side of the car and starting the engine.

The two of them are silent as Harry finds his way back to the highway, and they stay in that silence for the first few hours of that day’s leg of the trip.  As the third hour begins to pass, Y/N is content listening to the throaty and captivating voice of Stevie Nicks fill the cab of the car. By the second chorus of the song, Y/N is humming along quietly, her foot tapping to the same beat that Harry’s fingers are spelling out against the steering wheel.  It’s comfortable, she thinks after a moment.  The silence between them.  It feels different than it did on their first day, when Y/N was questioning her choice to get into a car with Harry and commit to a 42 hour drive. The silence seems to be fueled more by comfort than tension.  It’s…refreshing.

A memory from the first day ignites in the back of her mind, a spark so bright and obvious that she can’t believe it took her so long to see it. “Stevie.” Y/N says suddenly, turning to Harry as a smile spreads over her face. “You named your car Stevie, as in Stevie Nicks?”

Harry laughs, his shoulders moving up and down beneath his black t-shirt from the motion.  One hand lifts from the steering wheel and points a finger gun at her. “Took you long enough.  I was wondering how many days you’d have to listen to my music to get it.”

Y/N gives his hand a light shove. “I was too distracted by the fact that you named your car.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her bottle of water to her lips for a short sip. “I still think it’s weird.”

“It gives her character.” Harry defends himself as he rubs a hand over the steering wheel absentmindedly. Y/N can see the mirth swirling around in his light irises. “A bit of personality.  Just because you don’t value personalities doesn’t mean anyone else doesn’t.”

“I don’t value personalities?” Turning in her seat to stare at Harry head on, Y/N raises an eyebrow in question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just your taste in men, that’s all.” Harry says it casually, like it really can just be a “that’s all” type of sentence.

Within a heart beat, the comfortable atmosphere in the car turns to ice as Y/N straightens in her seat, her spine tense, tightening every nerve in her body along with it. “What the fuck does that mean?”

When Harry glances at her again, his eyes darken, his guard going up as he senses the shift in Y/N’s tone. “Nothing, just…motel rooms have thin walls.” Harry mumbles, having the decency to keep his eyes on the road as his ears redden slightly. “And from what I overheard, Brant doesn’t exactly seem…stimulating.”

Y/N sputters indignantly for a moment, unable to form a coherent response as anger rises in her chest. “You—” She sucks in a quick breath that hits the back of her throat harshly. “You eavesdropped on me?”

Harry licks his lips once, clearing his throat once before answering.  The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel has resumed, his nervousness apparent in his movements as well as his facial expressions. “Not on purpose.  I told you, the walls were thin.”

“So put in head phones!” Y/N exclaims, gripping her water bottle so tight that her fingers begin to strain in protest against the metal exterior.  She has half a mind to throw the bottle at Harry in her anger, barely able to talk herself down from the ledge of the idea.

Harry’s posture shifts in his seat as his shoulders square, and Y/N can practically see his defensive side emerge from within his chest. “It’s not like you two were having phone sex.” He rolls his eyes at the idea. “It was the most boring conversation in the world, and lasted, what, three minutes?  Makes you wonder how long he lasts in other ways, doesn’t it?”

“Stop the car.” Y/N’s voice is low and void of emotion as she replies, her body turned back forward in her seat.

“Am I wrong?  It’s not like you know for sure—”

Anger bubbles over in Y/N’s chest, cancelling out any rational thought she has inside her and leaving pure, unadulterated fury. “Stop the car, Harry!  Now!”

Harry half jumps in his seat when Y/N yells, and he quickly jerks the car to the side of the highway without so much as a turn signal.  Pulling her seatbelt off as he pulls over, Y/N is out the door before Harry can so much as put the car into neutral.  While her more rational mind would tell her that she has nowhere to walk to along a highway in Colorado as the sky darkens to an angry black above them, the only thing she’s thinking of is getting away from Harry.  Stupid, self-absorbed, ignorant, and rude Harry.

“Y/N—” The sound of Harry scrambling out of the car and slamming the door behind him pushes her to walk faster. “Y/N, come back—”

Y/N turns around on her heel fast and hard, heart pounding so fast that she thinks it might break through her ribs. “What is your problem?” She hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why do you insist on being so—so nasty about him?  You don’t even know him!”

Harry freezes where he is as the wind whips his hair around his face, his bandana barely keeping the messy curls in place. “I don’t—” His speech falters, and he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’m being…nasty.”

“Well, you are!” Y/N takes a deep breath in, placing her hands over her stomach as it expands with air.  It’s a trick that Jo taught her back in high school, as a way to ground herself to her body. Feeling the movement of air in and out of her lungs helps calm her, even if by just a fraction. “Brant is just—he’s someone I’m talking to.  We’ve gone on dates, but we’re not dating, and even though we’re not dating, that doesn’t mean that you can insinuate things about him, or eavesdrop on our private conversations!”

Harry’s jaw tenses as he listens to Y/N speak, waiting until she’s finished her speech to respond in a harsh and clipped tone. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And I’m teasing you.  It’s supposed to be a joke.  Isn’t that what friends do?”

“But we’re not friends, Harry.” Y/N’s voice is flat, the fury in her tone replaced with a hollow emptiness. “We’re not friends.  I don’t need you teasing me about a boy like we’re buddies, or whatever, because we’re not.”

Although Harry opens his mouth to respond, no words cross over the edges of his pink lips.  His jaw tightens even more as he closes his mouth again, and Y/N can see a million things flitting through his green irises, which are getting darker by the moment.  Y/N’s not certain if the darkness is from her words, or the black sky rolling above them that’s sapping the light of day from the atmosphere, and she’s not sure if she can take the answer either way.  Part of her knows that maybe—just maybe—she’s blown this whole thing out of proportion, and maybe she should examine why Harry making fun of Brant bothers her like it does.  It’s not like she’s unaware of his shortcomings, she thinks, but then she wonders why she’s now seeing them as shortcomings, when a week ago, she saw them as positives.  Y/N never has to worry about Brant being too much for her, or forgetful, or scatterbrained—he’s organized, and secure, and stable, and that’s what she likes.  It’s always been what she likes.

Harry’s delayed response tears Y/N from her thoughts. “Not friends.  Got it.” He mutters, rubbing his hand over his stubbled and taut cheeks. “Just get back in the car, then.  Let’s go.”

…

“Hello!  My name is Gracie, I’ll be your server today.” The waitress in the tiny diner smiles at Harry and Y/N, a notepad in one hand and a half filled coffee pot in the other. “Can I get you guys anything to start?”

“Coffee.” Harry and Y/N speak at the same time, each person’s eyes flickering to the other before looking away.  Y/N keeps her eyes focused on her off-white ceramic coffee cup as Gracie fills it, refusing to make eye contact with Harry again.

The last hour has been almost unbearable.  After they got back in the car, Harry had turned off his playlist, and for the first time since the road trip had begun, true silence had fallen between them. Y/N had thought she would like it, but truthfully, it had been the worst thing she’d ever heard.  Every few minutes, she’d hear Harry shift, or sigh, or tap a tense finger against the gear shift, and she wished that she could say something, but she didn’t.  She couldn’t.  She’d been grateful when he wordlessly exited the highway and parked in front of a diner, as the conversations of stopped truck drivers and the clatter of a kitchen was a good distraction from their argument.

A movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Y/N glances up just enough to watch Harry slip a pat of butter into his coffee, stirring the contents of the cup with his spoon until it’s melted together.  She wrinkles her nose in disgust, and almost opens her mouth to make a comment (“Really, Harry?  Just add milk like a regular person, instead of drinking a cup of grease.”), but bites it back before it can fall off her tongue.  They’re not exactly in the position to make quips to each other, she thinks, especially after she told him that they weren’t friends.

Which they’re not. They’ve never been friends; that fact isn’t exactly news.  Not getting along has been Harry and Y/N’s signature since the day they first met. So why is there a pit in Y/N’s stomach that gets deeper every time Harry looks away from her?

The click of heels alerts Y/N of Gracie’s returned presence before her voice does. “Have you two decided what you’d like to eat?”

“I’ll have a turkey club, please, on whole wheat bread.” Harry folds up his plastic menu carefully. “And a glass of water on the side.”

Gracie nods, taking the menu from him before turning her eyes to Y/N. “And for yourself?”

“Um—” Y/N had barely glanced at the menu, too lost in her thoughts to think about it. “I’ll just have a burger, please.  And a water, as well.”

Gracie nods as she writes down the order, taking Y/N’s menu and giving the pair one last smile before disappearing to the kitchen.  A fresh wave of silence falls between Harry and Y/N as each of them sips their coffee, both of them doing their best not to look at the person sitting across from them.

Y/N’s best, however, is not up to her usual standard, as she can’t stop herself from stealing a few quick glances while Harry looks out the window.  He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, she notices, as the stubble on his cheeks and chin is even darker than it was the day before.  There’s a permanent crease between his eyebrows, his face as tense as she’s ever seen it, and a darkness over his whole expression overall. It’s like there’s a new wall up between the two of them, and Y/N’s never felt more detached from him.  Which, honestly, is saying something.

She’s looking back down at her own half empty coffee when Harry finally speaks a few minutes later, his voice just as tense as his expression.

“Shit.” He says in a low voice, and then the next sound Y/N hears is that of someone ruffling through pockets.  

She looks up to see Harry doing just that, his hands digging through the outer pockets of his army green jacket. “What?” She asks, her curiosity outweighing her need to continue the silent treatment. “What is it?”

“I had the vows in my—my pocket, but they’re—” Harry jams his hands inside a pocket sewn into the lining of his jacket, and Y/N watches as his face visibly relaxes. “Oh, thank God. I thought they fell out.”

Harry removes his hand from his pocket, two folded up notes clutched within his hand.  Each one is labeled carefully, one with Jo written in Laure’s neat penmanship, and the other with Laure scribbled in Jo’s quick writing.  

Y/N recognizes the papers immediately.  It’s easy, really, considering the amount of time she spent helping Jo rewrite draft after draft of the same sentiments. “You have Jo and Laure’s vows?” She questions, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Why?”

“The same reason you have their wedding bands.” Harry shrugs as he turns the papers over in his careful fingers, making sure not to crease them. “They forgot them.”

A small smile plays on the edge of Y/N’s lips at the memory of her forgetful friends. “Right.  Of course.”

Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s mouth at the sign of movement, and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before responding. “Want to take a look?”

“At their vows?” Y/N looks around, as if someone could be watching and monitoring them. “I—that doesn’t seem right.”

“Fine.  Then don’t look at them.” Harry says easily, setting the note labeled Laure on the table between them.  His nimble fingers unfold the paper labeled with Jo’s name as his green irises begin to scan across the sheet. “I’ll read them.”

It only takes a few seconds of watching Harry read over the words for Y/N to crack. “Wait.” She brings her thumb to her mouth, chewing anxiously on her cuticle as Harry quirks an eyebrow at her. “Will you read them to me?”

When she asks, Harry spends so long staring at her that Y/N thinks he’ll refuse.  His jade eyes meet hers with an intensity that almost makes her flinch, but Y/N holds his stare, refusing to be the first to back down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Harry gives a sharp nod, looking down at the note before he starts to read from the beginning.

“‘My darling Jo’,” He begins, his voice soft and low, his accent thick. “‘It seems so strange that this day is finally here.  I feel like we’ve been building up to it ever since the day we first met, and yet it’s always seemed so far away.  When I was a little girl, I always’…” Harry trails off as his eyes continue to move across the words, and he clears his throat before attempting to continue to read aloud. “‘I always thought that there was something wrong with me.  I thought that the things that I felt, and the way that I loved, was dirty.  I thought it was wrong.  I thought that—that I was going against God, and against nature, and that I was going to be punished for it.  And then I met you’.”

Harry pauses to take a sip of his coffee, and Y/N does the same.  There’s a shine beginning to appear in his eyes, and Y/N recognizes it as the beginning of tears because she feels the same thing brimming in her own eyes. She feels a bit guilty for reading the vows, but reasons that it’s for the best.  If she were to hear them for the first time at the wedding, she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep it together.

“‘The moment I met you, I knew that the way I loved could never be wrong, or be dirty, because I was loving you’.” Harry’s accent grows thicker the more he reads, and although Y/N hasn’t seem Harry in many different emotional states, she can tell that this is a sign of how the vows are affecting him. “‘Being with you could never be wrong, and God could never get mad at me for it, because only God could create someone as perfect as you.  I promise to love you when you wake me up at 3 A.M. because you’ve stolen all the blankets, and I promise to love you at 6 P.M. when you almost burn down our apartment while trying to cook for me.  I promise to support you through everything, listen to your stories, and watch in wonder as you make a difference in this world.  I promise to never let my anger get the best of me, and to always give you the benefit of the doubt.  I promise to love every version of yourself that you grow into, just as I’ve loved all the versions you once were.  I promise to love you in every way humanly possible, and even in ways that aren’t humanly possible.  I promise to love, period.  I’—” Harry’s voice cracks, and he glances up at Y/N as he clears his throat to continue. “‘I love you’.”

Y/N doesn’t realize just how emotional listening to Harry read Laure’s vows has made her until the first tear wells over the corner of her eye.  She turns her head towards the window to wipe it away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, but from the way Harry is looking at her when she turns back around, she knows that he caught what she was doing.

“That, um—” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to attempt to clear the emotion from her throat. “Wow.”

Harry carefully folds Laure’s vows back up, taking extra care to re-crease the paper exactly how it had been folded. “I didn’t know she…felt like that.” Harry says after a moment, his voice quiet. “Like she was…wrong.”

Y/N, unsure of what to say, just nods while reaching for Jo’s vows in front of her.  Like Harry, she takes great care when unfolding the paper, smoothing it gently between her hands. “I’ll read Jo’s, then?”

Harry nods as he takes a sip of his water. “Sure.”

Y/N licks her lips once, wetting them with what little saliva she has in her mouth before beginning. “‘Laure’,” She starts, emotion already rising up to form a lump in her throat. “‘I don’t even know where to begin.  I’ve tried to write down all the ways I love you a million different times, but I can never seem to find the right words.  The problem is, I don’t think that there is a big enough word to describe what I feel for you.  ‘Love’ is only four letters, and four letters is just not enough to contain everything I feel.  ‘Adoration’ is nine letters, but even that doesn’t come close.  I think the best way I can describe it is ‘permanent’.” Y/N pauses her reading to take a long gulp of water, the coolness soothing the dry and parched feeling in her mouth and throat. “‘Anyone who knows me knows that I have trouble committing.  The idea of having something forever, of being in one place, normally terrifies me. But the idea of having you forever, and being in one place with you forever…that’s all I want.  I want us to be permanent to each other.  Even when we struggle, and we will struggle, I know that we won’t fall apart.  Committing to you isn’t any trouble.  It’s as easy as breathing.  I’m sure of you, and I’m sure of us.  I love you, permanently.  I’ll love you when you’re sick and gross, and I’ll love you when you’re old with a bad hip.” A small laugh falls out of Y/N’s mouth before she continues. “I’ll love you when you haggle at flea markets for the best prices, and I’ll love you when you do something so stupid that it makes me want to tear my hair out.  I love you permanently, and I want all of our family and friends to witness me saying that.  I’ll never back out, or bail, or run away from you.  You’re the one thing in my life that’s never felt hard. You’re my home base, and my north star, and you bring me back down to Earth whenever I need it.  I love you permanently, Laure.  I’ll never stop’.”

As she finishes reading, Y/N folds the paper back up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before grabbing the other note sitting on the table.  She pushes them towards Harry, her misty eyes unable to meet his. “Here. Put these away again, somewhere safe.”

Harry takes the vows from her, slipping them back inside his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping. “It’s probably—” He clears his throat once more, and Y/N knows that the vows have caught him in his chest just as they’ve caught her. “It’s probably good that we read them now, so that we’re…prepared for the ceremony.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wraps her hands around her coffee mug, the warm ceramic surface heating her cold fingers. “You’re right.  They really…love each other.”

Harry taps his fingers against the table top, a concentrative and thoughtful expression on his face.  His eyebrows are knit together above his stormy green eyes, and his pink tongue swipes over his pinker lips once before he speaks. “You know, Laure is my closest friend.  I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Immediately registering the tone of Harry’s voice, Y/N’s head snaps up, her own eyes becoming stormy as they meet his own. “Jo would never hurt Laure.” Y/N says defensively, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up at even the suggestion of her friend hurting someone. “Didn’t you hear her vows?  I’ve never heard her sound so sure of something in her entire life.”

Harry’s jaw flexes at the cadence of Y/N’s voice, and his is just as agitated when he responds. “I’m just saying, if anything ever happened—”

“And I’m just saying, it won’t.” The tension between them doubles as Y/N shoots Harry an icy glare. “Do you just look for the worst in people?  Is that all you do?”

“You think I look for the worst in people?  Really?” Harry barks out a harsh laugh, pressing one hand flat against the table as the other fixes his bandana. “Christ, if that’s what you think of me—”

“Why would I think anything else?” Y/N asks incredulously, tilting her head to the side as she regards him. “All you’ve shown me is—”

“Alright, I have the turkey club on whole wheat, and the burger here.” Gracie appears suddenly to Y/N’s right, her tray loaded with food. “Here you guys are…” She sets the plates down in front of Harry and Y/N, her gaze darting between them nervously as she reads the tension in the booth. “Is…there anything else I can get you two?”

“No.” Harry’s voice is hard. “We don’t need anything else.”

…

By the time Harry pulls the car into a motel just off the highway in Lexington, Nebraska, all Y/N wants is a moment alone.  The strained atmosphere during that day’s drive had been unbearable, and between the anxiety from her confrontation with Harry and the sound of thunder beginning in the distance, Y/N just needs some space to herself to relax and calm down.

Of course, just because that’s what she needs, doesn’t mean that she’s going to get it.  When Harry returns back to the car with a single key in his hand and a sour look on his face, Y/N knows for sure that the universe is against her.

This room, at least, she’s pleased to find, has two actual beds, which are pushed up against the wall perpendicular to the door with a small night table between them.  However, that’s where her pleasure stops, as the click of Harry turning the lock behind her just reminds her that she’s trapped in here, with no chance to get away from Harry, the oncoming storm, or any one of her problems that have developed over the last four days.  The reality of the situation hits her all at once, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control to toss her bag on the bed and walk brusquely to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her before she allows herself to show a sign of her emotions.

The rest of the evening passes in silence.  She showers before changing into her sports bra and boxers, but the amount of exposed skin sends a vulnerable shiver down her spine.  Y/N opts for pulling a sweatshirt over her body, and then sets herself the task of braiding her hair to distract herself.  After that’s done, she busies herself with her skincare routine, taking up as much time as she can in the bathroom before she absolutely has to leave its private interior.

Harry, however, seems to want to see as little of Y/N as she wants to see of him, and pushes past her to enter the bathroom the moment that she steps out of it.  His routine, it seems, is designed to take up just as much time as hers was, because by the time Harry exits the bathroom, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him, Y/N is already tucked under the covers of her bed, although she’s far from asleep.

In the time it took for her to shower and get ready for bed, the storm had picked up, and the only thing audible in the room was the sound of rain pelting against the roof and window, the wind howling through the trees, and Y/N’s shallow, uneven breaths. She wraps the sheets tightly around herself, pulling them taut to her chin with clenched fists that tighten every time a clap of thunder echoes through the room.  Although she’s turned to face the wall, away from Harry, she can hear his footsteps pause as he gets a glimpse of her shivering form beneath the blankets, and she does her best to will herself to appear asleep.  Breathing in as deeply as her tight chest will allow her, Y/N attempts to even her breathing, forcing her shoulders rise and fall in a way that appears natural and normal.  But all it takes is one clap of thunder for the controlled motion to go out the window.

“Y/N…” Harry’s voice is low, but despite its raspy cadence, it lacks the rough edge that it had earlier. The bed behind her squeaks, signalling that Harry’s taken a seat on the edge of it. “Are you—?”

“I-I’m fine.” Y/N says quickly, pulling the sheets tighter to her chin as another shiver rolls through her body. “Go to sleep.”

There’s another creak of Harry’s bed, and Y/N imagines him climbing under the starched linen covers, his damp curls flopping into his eyes as he lays back on the lumpy motel pillow. The image is almost enough to distract her until there’s another clap of thunder.  The sound seems to shake the motel room, and Y/N can’t stop the small whimper that leaves her lips as her body jumps in response.

“When I was a little kid, my mum took my sister and I to the fair every year.”

Harry’s deep voice cuts over the rain, and Y/N shifts in her bed, turning over to face him.  She keeps the covers pulled up to her chin, but readjusts herself so that she can keep her head on her pillow while looking Harry in the eye. “What?” She asks, confusion audible in her quiet tone.

Harry shifts himself as she does, continuing to move down until he’s completely horizontal, with one hand tucked under his pillow as he speaks. “My mum took my sister and I to the fair.  It came to Holmes Chapel every spring, and there were always rides, and games to play, and so many things to see.  It drew crowds from nearby villages every year, really big crowds, and my mum always held my hand tightly so I wouldn’t get lost.”

“I don’t understand, what—” Another clap of thunder shakes the room, making Y/N flinch halfway through her sentence.

“You’re okay.” Harry says immediately, his calm jade eyes focused on her as the reassurance slips from his mouth.  He waits a moment, gauging Y/N’s body language and waiting for his examination to be positive before resuming his story. “So…my mum always told me not to wander off, but when I was six, I did.  I saw some older kids playing games that I wanted to play, and Gemma was busy playing some sort of game with a ball—I can’t really remember what—and when my mum turned her back, I ran off.”

Y/N’s about to open her mouth to ask why he’s telling her the story when the answer clicks into place in her head.  She thinks back to the conversation in the car the day before, how she told Harry that it helps when someone talks to her to distract her from the thunder.  That’s what he’s doing, she realizes, as she forces herself to focus on his quiet and level voice.  He’s trying to keep her calm, even after everything she said and did today.

“I don’t look like it now,” A small smile flits across Harry’s blushed lips. “But I was pretty scrawny back then.  And all the people around me were so tall, my eyes were barely level with their hips. Everyone was rushing around, going in all directions, and I kept calling for my mum, but she couldn’t hear me.  No one stopped to help me.  I felt like I was…trapped.  Like it was a huge forest of legs, running all around me, circling me, and I couldn’t get out.  I was probably only gone for five minutes, but to a six year old, it felt like an eternity.  And just something about it…I don’t know.  It changed me.  I still don’t like crowds because of that day.”

Y/N’s shoulders unclench the slightest bit as another gust of wind blows against the window. “That must have been scary.”

Harry’s own shoulders lift in a slight shrug as he shifts the sheet to cover him more. “It was. But I can’t change it.  I just have to deal with the repercussions of it. That’s all a fear is, really.  A side effect.  We just have to deal with them as best we can.”

More thunder booms loudly outside, but Y/N manages to keep her flinch to a minimum, despite her hands curling into fists again under the covers. “Harry…” She whispers his name into the darkness between them, his outline barely visible save for his green eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry about today.”

Harry shakes his head, his damp hair rubbing against his pillow. “You don’t have to apologize.” He whispers back, his tone as gentle as she’s ever heard it. “I was an arse.  I shouldn’t have pushed the topic.”

“I shouldn’t have been so uptight about it.” Rubbing her eyes with one fist, Y/N lets out a low sigh. “I felt so shitty all day because of our fight.  I’ve never…none of our fights have ever made me feel like that.”

“Maybe it’s because…” Harry’s tentative voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the ground for a brief moment before staring back at Y/N nervously. “I don’t know.  I thought we were getting along better.  For a moment, at least.”

“We were.” Y/N’s teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she feels a sudden shyness overcome her at the admission. “I’m sorry I said that we…weren’t friends.  I think…I don’t know.  I’ve been stubborn for so long, but I can see now that you’re different than I thought you were.”

“Yeah.  Me too.  I was wrong, too.” Harry runs a hand through his damp curls, a soft laugh leaving his mouth. “How did we even end up like this?  I barely remember what made us hate each other so much in the beginning.”

“Seriously?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, barely peaking out from beneath the sheets as another clap of thunder sounds. “You don’t remember?”

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

“Yes!  It was the very first night we met.  We had that double date with Laure and Jo.” Shifting beneath her covers, Y/N moves herself into a better position on her side, so she can be more comfortable while still maintaining eye contact with Harry. “And you were rude, and made inappropriate jokes, and you left in the middle of the date to go chat up a sorority girl!”

“Wait a minute, no!” Harry protests the memory, half sitting up in his bed as he speaks. “That’s not what happened!”

“Yes, it is!” A small laugh falls off Y/N’s lips at his indignant reaction. “I remember it perfectly!”

“No, you remember it wrong!” Although a flush creeps up Harry’s neck, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips, a tiny hint of a dimple just barely appearing in his visible cheek. “I was making jokes to try and break the ice, which didn’t work on the Ice Queen, it seems—” Harry motions to Y/N teasingly. “And you’re the one who started talking to some bloke before I started talking to that girl!”

Another clap of thunder echoes through the room, but Y/N hardly notices as she thinks back to the night they met, and who Harry could possibly be referring to. “A bloke—?  He was a classmate of mine!  I had to talk to him!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to enjoy it so much.” Harry grumbles, crossing his muscled arms over his sheets. “I had been so excited when Laure said she had an American girl for me, and then—”

“You were excited?” Y/N asks, her voice laced with surprise. “Really?”

The flush on Harry’s neck works its way to the apples of his cheeks. “Well, yeah.” He mumbles the words as his eyes drop from Y/N’s, slipping both hands beneath his head. “She said that you were funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful—”

“And then you met me, and realized that it was all a lie?” Y/N finishes for him, rolling her eyes in the darkness.

“No.” Harry gives a small shake of his head as his body shifts, the motel bed creaking under his weight. “No, she wasn’t wrong.  You were all of those things.  But I wasn’t, and it seemed like…I don’t know.  Like you didn’t think I was good enough for you.  I couldn’t keep your attention.”

The teasing smile slips from Y/N’s face as she registers Harry’s words. “You thought that I thought you weren’t…good enough?”

The nervousness is clear in Harry’s voice now, even over the pounding of rain against the window. “That’s what it seemed like, yeah.”

“I never—I didn’t think that.” Y/N says slowly, managing to relax her body beneath the sheets as she keeps her focus on the memory of meeting Harry. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there, but that’s because Jo set the date up without telling me.  I thought you were handsome, and I liked your accent, but then you started to act weird, and you started flirting with that girl, so I thought you were an ass.”

“You still think I’m an arse, princess, be honest.” The teasing tone replaces the nerves, and for once, Harry’s joke has the intended affect on Y/N.  When she rolls her eyes again, it’s more playful, and the same tone is in her voice when she responds.

“I told you, don’t call me princess.” She replies, running her teeth over her lip gently. “So…I guess we both kind of fucked up that day.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, a sheepish smile playing over his red lips. “I guess so.”

“Can we just restart?” Y/N’s voice is small when she asks the question, barely audible over the sounds of the storm raging outside. “Like, all the way from the beginning. No more grudges, no more yelling. Even if it’s just for this trip, for Jo and Laure—”

“It doesn’t have to be just for this trip.” Harry cuts in, his eyes catching Y/N’s again. “We’re going to have to be around each other for a long time.  It’ll be a lot easer if we get along.”

Y/N nods in agreement, tugging down her covers to extend one arm towards Harry.  She makes a fist, holding out just her pinkie finger to him with half a grin on her face. “Truce?”

The space between their beds is small, and Harry’s long arm easily makes it across the no man’s land to meet Y/N’s pinkie with his own.  He loops it together with a smile that matches hers, tired and content and just at the edge of a humble new beginning.  Harry’s response is almost inaudible as thunder booms loudly outside the room, but Y/N can still pick out the cadence of his accent under the noise.

“Truce.”

(pt II)

[lily-drake]

Photograph

Based on

Thank you @johannaiii for letting me write this!!!! It was so much fun and it was a really good prompt!

Talia didn’t like the process of giving birth, in fact she loathed it.  She swore she would never, and she meant never do it again.  But when she was giving birth, and she found out that she was having twins, and she got to hold her children that she sacrificed and suffered for, she loved them.  When she learned that one of them was a girl, she knew that her father would be furious and demand her death.  So she immediately summoned one of the monks from the Tibetan temple that her father was allying with and gave them the girl.  She demanded that they train her and protect, and that she would never, ever be mentioned to Ra’s.  She even killed the nurses who helped her give birth to make sure that there was no one left who would know.  It wouldn’t be hard to find replacements for them anyways, it’s not like their lives were significant.  They had served out their use, now there was no need for them.  When it was time she presented her son, Damian, to her father claiming him to be the only child and heir to the Demon’s Head.  Ra’s was very pleased with her and she felt pride at being able to carry out her task properly that her father was very much pleased with her and her child.

Even though Marinette, as she had named the child before she had given her up, was no longer in the league, she made sure she was still in her daughter’s life.  Once every year she left for “training” purposes with Damian and went to the ancient temple in Tibet to visit her daughter and make sure that the two siblings got to spend time with each other.  Marinette was growing up so fast and the monks would report to her of her daughter’s progress.  They told her that Marinette was destined for greatness and to be a powerful leader, and that pleased Talia greatly.  The man in charge of her daughter's training, Master Wang Fu, would show her photos of her daughter and her accomplishments; she wished that she would be allowed to do the same for Damian.  But the League and the Temple of Order, while partners, were two separate entities when it came to how they were trained and taught.  She smiled as she saw her children sparing on the temple’s grounds, each assessing how strong the other had become since their last meeting a year ago.

They were both 6-years-old now, and Marinette had lost one of her top baby teeth.  She wore the traditional light blue training robes the monks wore while Damian wore his traditional black and red armor with his katana sheathed on his back.  She watched her children and a small smile graced her lips as she watched the two.  They were opposites in almost everything, yet they were still so similar.  Damian’s fighting was aggressive and forceful while Marinette’s focussed on out maneuvering and tiring out the opponent from a distance before striking where it hurt the most.  Their personalities were like fire and ice with Damian being aggressive and mighty while Marinette was soft and humble.  Damian was assertive and forceful in the way he spoke, while Marinette was gentle and descriptive.  Though, like she said before they had many similarities that helped to cement their relationship.  They both were very artistic, in battle they both would get up and personal with their challenger if given the opportunity, both were very intelligent and soaked everything up like a sponge, and both were highly competitive.  The sound of metal being hit together sounded from the training grounds as Damian and Marinette fought with their respective weapons; Damian with his katana and Marinette with her two daggers.

“You’ve definitely improved since the last visit, 'ukht, but so have I.”

Damian announced as he went in to sweep his sister’s legs all while bringing his blade down towards her.  Marinette used her daggers to lift Damian’s blade and flipped backwards as Damian tried to perform his strike.  She was very flexible and graceful when she was in the air.  It sometimes looked as if she were flying when she performed some of her stunts.

“Maybe you have, Xiōngdì, but I seem to still have the upper hand.”

Marinette replied with smugness dripping from her voice as her brother glared at her.  Marinette carefully crafted her words to manipulate while Damian spoke his mind and used his to order and command.  They were opposites, but they completed each other in a way few will ever know.

The day Damian and Talia were to begin their trek back down the mountain Fu ran up to Damian and placed a piece of paper in his hands.  He bowed respectfully to the old man and looked at the picture.  It was a picture the old man had taken a few days ago.  Marinette was smiling brightly and had her arm around his shoulder while he had his arms crossed in front of him and leaned into his sister’s touch with a small smirk.  They were both in their training clothes and stood in front of the mountains that hid and protected the Temple of Order.  He smiled at it and glanced at his sister who was waving goodbye with a big sad smile.  He simply nodded and left not knowing that this would be the last time he would for many years that he would lay eyes on her once again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Order, it was gone, destroyed!  Marinette felt tears rush down her face as she watched her friends and mentors perish in the flames of miraculous magic gone astray.  She could feel the cold wind passing by her as Master Fu dragged her away, but she couldn’t remove her gaze from her home that was falling into pieces.  What would Damian think, she had to leave something for him to let him know she was okay!  But she was never given the chance because she couldn’t pull away from her master.  They were the last ones left, and Marinette couldn’t wrap her mind around it at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Damian and Talia hiked the trial many months later, and as they neared the top they could sense something was definitely off.  The top of the temple would usually be in view by now. When they finally reached the top they froze as they saw the ruins of the burned and destroyed temple in front of them.  Talia was the first to break from her daze and ran to the ruins searching through them to find any remains of her daughter.  Damian soon joined his mother, but it was no use.  Damian and Talia believed the worst had happened to her, and with silent tears flowing down his face he stabbed his sword into the ground in front of the burnt remains and fell onto his knees in front of it.  The sword would serve as a gravestone for the fallen warriors here, but it specifically would serve as Marinette’s grave marker.  She was a brave warrior, one of the best, and she was gone now.  Talia stood by her son’s side and soon kneeled in front of it as well with her hand placed on her son’s shoulder.  As they traveled down the mountain Damian swore that he would never be vulnerable again, he would never care about anyone ever again, because the pain he felt was too intense and never wanted to feel it ever again.

So both He and Talia took on more missions, Talia was rarely at the base, always gone doing whatever her father needed.  The training in Tibet never happened again, and Damian grew closer to his grandfather.  He trained harder, attacked ruthlessly, and channeled all his pain and rage into his strikes.  He held onto the photo that Fu had given him of the two of them so many years ago.  He had it tucked away in a secret place in his room where no one would ever find it, because he wanted to keep her with him in some way.  Never again, he wouldn’t be hurt like before ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette lived with Master Fu in a tea parlor under the guise of Marin Fu.  She helped him run his parlor and distribute his charms to the people through the teas she brewed while he placed charms on people through the massage therapy he did.  Fu let her be home schooled as she already knew way more than any normal school could teach her.  She would just be repeating things when she could be learning more new material.  She was also taught how to better practice her magic and use the miraculous.  She was going to be the new guardian one day, she was going to be the last guardian one day, and that thought scared her and brought back all of the nightmares.  She locked that night and anything before the fire back up in her mind only remembering what she needed to when she needed to.

Fu wanted her to interact with people though, so with the money he made he sent her to a gymnastics class where she could still retain her skills and get better at them.  She honestly loved the classes and she felt so free when she did them.  Nobody could beat her, in fact she advanced to level 10 quickly and was well on her way to the elite by the time she was 13.  And that’s when Hawkmoth struck Paris.

Lady Rouge and her partner Chat Noir made a decent team, but he was nowhere near her skill level which often annoyed her.  He wasn’t a true black cat, her brother was.  He was her balanced counterpart, and this cat was just a stand in.  And as time went on the imbalance continued the boy became corrupted by the destructive energy of the ring.  She had continually told Master Fu about it, but he would not listen.  And then it was time for him to pass, and she became the grand guardian, the last grand guardian.  Tears fell down the young 15-year-olds face as she watched her mentor's spirit leave him in his peaceful slumber.  He was so old, and it was just his time for him to go, but now she had nowhere to go, but she knew what she had to do.

“Hello, M’lady.”

Chat Noir said in a flirty tone as he spun his staff as if the speed he was doing it at would impress her.

“Hello, Chat.”

She replied terse with her arms crossed in front of her as she leaned on the railing of the Eiffel Tower and gazed at the sky that held little stars due to all of the lights of the city below them.

“Are you not excited to see your soulmate?  Come on M’lady,”

He said grabbing one of her hands with a large smile and deep voice,

“let me take you out somewhere, just the two of us.”

It took everything in Marinette not to break his wrist in that moment, but she had to play along.

“Okay.”

Chat’s eyes widened and his leather tail began to move side to side in an excited manner.

“W-wait, really?!”

“You know what, ya.  This week has been really tough and I could use it.”

Chat’s smile turned into a smirk and a dark twinkle lit up his eyes.  He took a step back and held his hand, his ringed hand, out for her to take.  SHe smiled at him gently and innocently and took his hand, and as he was about to pull her forward she took hold of the rings and ripped her hand off, taking the ring with her.  There was a blonde boy with green eyes staring at her with shock and hurt written all over his face, then eventually anger.

“I am revoking you from being able to wield the Black Cat Miraculous.  You are not compatible to wield this power as you are not my balanced counterpart.  The ring has been corrupting and harming you after all of your exposure to it when you are not the right one to wear it while I hold the earrings.  Thank you for the help you have given me in the past, but I’m afraid that I can not risk hurting you any longer.”

The boy stared at her with wide shocked eyes and nodded.  She could see that he too had now noticed the change as with the ring it didn’t feel like he changed at all.  She helped him get to his house and left after shaking his hand and thanking him one last time for his help.  And as she was about to leave the property she heard the sound of something above her opening and through the now open window she saw an akuma flying out of it.

She quickly caught the akuma and crashed through the glass window into the dark room.  Before Hawkmoth could even realize what had happened she had tied him up in her yo-yo and he was pinned in place with the tight cord.  If she pulled it any tighter it would cut into his skin and draw blood.  She grabbed the broach from the middle of the suit --which was as hideous as his akuma designs, if not worse-- and watched the man detransform making sure the camera on her yo-yo recorded the whole thing.

“You will be subject to the curse of whatever your abused kwami sees fit for you, and then the people of Paris will have you.”

Was all she said as she brought the man onto his knees so he could properly respect the kwami and the God’s they are.  Nooroo appeared and stared down at the man in front of him with an angered fiery glare.

“Gabriel Agreste, you have abused me and my miraculous for too long!  I bring upon a curse upon you, that no one will ever believe a word you say, and that your craft of manipulation will only work against you!”

And with that, pain courses through Gabriel and the wings of a butterfly were branded on the left side of his chest just above his heart.  She left soon after that and sent the footage for the police.  She watched from a distance as the police took him in, and told one of the officers that Adrien was innocent and had no connection to his father’s scheme.  Once she was sure Gabriel would not be able to escape his justice she pulled the horse miraculous from her yo-yo and summoned a portal to wherever she needed to be next.

~~~~~~~~~~

Damian was in the cave training when Todd burst in and began to run towards him with a stupid smug grin on his face.  Damian rolled his eyes and watched Todd stop in front of him holding something small and flimsy in his hand.

“Demon Spawn,”

He breathed out, his smug smile growing wider,

“Did you have a girlfriend in the league?”

Damian was….confused.  He had no such thing, but as Todd showed him the thing in his hand his blood froze.  It was the photo of him and Marinette.  How did he find it?!  Why did he even have it?!

“Give it back, Todd.”

Damian growled lowly hands gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

“She is!  Guys, Damian had a-“

He tackled Jason after that and wrestled the photo out of his grip and held it close to him.  He glared daggers at Todd and made absolutely sure that the old photo was still intact.  Once he was sure.  Todd was back on his feet and Damian had the urge to run him through with his sword for daring to rummage through his belongings and to dare touch his picture.  He opened his mouth to spit out fiery words of anger, when a portal opened right in front of Damian.  A girl walked out of it and the portal immediately closed.  It was absolutely silent in the cave as the other occupants who were also there stared at the person.  The girl was rigid as she stared Damian directly in the eyes, and he felt a familiar pull to her.

“Kaalki, Tikki separate.  Tikki spots off.”

She spoke quickly, and her voice, and those words, and he knew who she was.  But that was impossible, because she had died, hadn’t she?!  Arms wrapped around him and he could hear sniffles and he felt his arms wrap robotically around the small frame of his sister.

“Xiōngdì, I missed you so much!  I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner!  Th-the Order was destroyed and Fu woul-wouldn’t let me leave a message, and-and someone was misusing the Butterfly in France (sniff).  And-and…..”

She took a long shaky breath in and sighed,

“I missed you so much.”

It took a while to realize that silent tears were falling down his face, and he hugged her even tighter against his chest.  Because his sister, his twin sister was alive, and she hadn’t died in the fire and destruction of the temple.

“It’s okay, 'ukht.  I’ve got you.”

They stayed like that for a few precious moments before Todd yelled,

“What the f*!”

———————

Permanent Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 1

Summary: Draco meets and accidentally falls in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP). Part 1 of a upcoming series.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, crying, panic attacks

Words: 6.4K words (I made this so longgg)

A/N: my first Draco writing !!! i am sorry ahead of time if there are any misspellings, typing with long acrylics is hard omg. ALSO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i do not own this gif.

It was almost satirical how Draco managed to fall in love with someone at what might be, is, the lowest point in his life. It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, the dark mark burned into his left forearm, the restless mending of the vanishing cabinet, the impossible task of killing his Headmaster, the Dark Lord looming over him and his family with promises of torture and death if he didn’t follow through with the orders he was given.

Draco was an empty shell of what he used to be. The playful and mean remarks that would leave his mouth to anyone that stood in his path were gone. The devious twinkle in his eye and the smug smirk that used to grace his face almost 24/7 was reduced to a permanent scowl and red-rimmed eyes. He looked as if he had aged a rough 10 years since the last year he was at school. Everyone noticed it.

Everyone noticed the skipped meals, the lack of sleep, the empty look in his eyes, the falling behind in class. But no one dared say a thing to him. It almost seems as though people were afraid of him now more than ever. The sneer on his face and the reckless and impulsive attitude he held now was like a repellent for anyone that tried to come near. He was completely alone, whether he liked it or not and he decided to keep it that way.

That all changed a few months into the year, however, when you were rushing to DADA, your long house colored scarf getting tangled underneath your feet causing you to trip and lurch forward, dropping all your books, your wand, and crashing into, you guessed it, Draco Malfoy himself. There was a loud cracking sound as you both tumbled onto the ground, a yelp slipping past Draco’s lips as he held his hand in pain.

"Oh, Merlin,” you gasped, Draco shooting you the dirtiest glare. “Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could open his mouth to tell you off and incessantly insult you into oblivion, you reached forward and took his wounded hand in yours, the softness of your hands and tender touch throwing him off guard. He watched you as you examined the damage on one of his fingers.

“It’s just a sprain,” you finalized after inspecting it for a couple seconds. Draco recoiled his hand from yours as if he had touched a hot surface. He moved to get up and you huffed out a “wait, hold on,” as you scrambled around the ground for your wand. When you felt the wood underneath your fingertips, you clutched it and jumped to your feet, gently grabbing onto the sleeve of Draco’s robe who was already trying to retreat.

“Get away,” he snarled, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Let me help,” you pleaded softly, “it’ll be quick, I promise.”

Draco looked down at you with annoyance. He was about to leave again until he felt that same tender touch from just a few moments ago. The feeling stunning him again as he looked down at his hand that was now lying palm up in yours.

“Episkey,” you drawled the wand over his injured finger, the both of you watching the swollen and purple bruise beginning to form suddenly fade away.

Draco gave you one last scowl before he snatched his hand out of yours and turned around to leave the corridor, leaving you standing there dumbfounded as he quickly walked away, his cloak floating behind him like the professor, who’s class you now realized you were very late for.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

That night, Draco lied awake staring at his ceiling he had charmed to resemble a starry night sky. His mind wandered off to think about spells he could try to help fix the vanishing cabinet and different ways he could kill Dumbledore without actually having to face him. He thought of his parents, mostly his mom, and how much he wishes he could save her and himself from this life. He thought of this school and how much he missed being an unknowing child who just did his schoolwork, played quidditch and bully the Golden Trio. He missed the two-dimensional life he used to live. Even if he used to be a complete ignorant and snobby arse, he was a happy one at that. Only now he knows that life isn’t what mummy or daddy say it is, in fact, it is so much worse.

He found his mind wandering to his uneventful day of dragging himself through his classes and failed attempts on the cabinet in the room of requirement. He then all of a sudden remembered the klutzy y/h/c girl that tripped into him and sprained his finger. He remembered how soft her touch was and how gentle she was in fixing said finger. That feeling was hard to forget. He hasn’t felt such tenderness since he doesn’t know how long. He recalled his mother’s hug before he boarded the train to Hogwarts, but that was ages ago.

In his ever growing turmoil, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Draco’s life since he’s returned to school. The coldness he was feeling on the inside was just as apparent as it was in his surroundings. He catches himself wishing he could feel that touch again, something about you radiated warmth, and just as quick as that thought appeared, he pushed it away. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next day, as Draco was leaving the room of requirement and into the empty corridor, he felt the familiar ache in his chest that began to flow through his body. He had made little to no progress today on the cabinet. He felt a panic attack on the horizon, his breathing becoming staggered and tears pricking his eyes. He hated it. He hated feeling so weak.

He began rushing towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, his tears blurring his vision and just like the day before, he crashed right into someone. Instinctively, he held the other person in place by their biceps so neither of them would fall. But that still didn’t stop how upon impact, the other person’s head had collided with his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes in pain as he felt the skin break and blood quickly escaping it. When he pulled back, he focused on the figure in front of him and realized it was you. The same klutzy girl he bumped into yesterday. 

“Oh no, not again,” you frown, placing your hand on the part of your head that met Draco’s lip.

“You ought to watch where you’re going, you twit,” he snarls, stepping away from you in anger.

“It was an accident,” you responded just as harshly. You take a deep breath and throw the attitude aside. He was bleeding for Merlin’s sake and you felt bad that it was because of you. “I’m sorry, please let me heal you again,” you offer, taking a step towards him, closing up the space he had made.

“I think you’ve done enough,” he backs up, eyeing you down.

“Draco, please, just let me heal your lip and i’ll be out of your way,” you ask again, your soft and guilt ridden e/c eyes peering up at him through your lashes. Draco’s heart flutters, his anger subsiding for a second and he nods.

You step towards him once more and unexpectedly place a warm hand on his face while the other brings your wand up to his lip where it hovers. It was a non-verbal spell you used this time and he felt the pulsating pain in his lip subside to nothing. 

Even though he was healed, you both stayed in that position, your hand still on his cheek and his eyes gazing into yours. He didn’t realize it at that moment, but the pain in chest had also subsided, just a little. The tears had gone. His breathing was drastically slower.

“What’s your name?” the question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. You gave him a small smile, your hand falling from his face and he frowns when he feels the cold on his skin from the loss of contact.

“It’s Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” you answer. “We have potions together this year, actually.”

Draco thought back to that class, now that Slughorn was teaching it he hardly paid attention, especially since he felt he was skilled in it anyways so he would let himself slip into his thoughts and let the whole period pass by in a haze. He feels as though he might have heard your name here and there, but he wasn’t so sure.

“Hm, funny, I’ve never noticed you,” he says, not intending it to sound rude but it did. He watches your face fall and he feels a slight guilt poke at him.

“Well, like I said, I’ll be out of your way now,” you mumble to him, brushing past him softly as you continued your path out of the corridor and out of his sight.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a little sad to see you go. He shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind and instead of the bathroom, he decided to go to his room, no longer feeling like he did before your little encounter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

As days went on, Draco ended up paying more attention in Slughorn’s class. Not to the chubby old professor, but to you, who he shared subtle glances with throughout classes and half-hearted smiles.

You wanted nothing more than to continue talking to him. To be in his presence. He was like a magnet to you, while everyone else thought the opposite of him. Even Pansy, who usually was up his ass, distanced herself from the ghost of the boy she once obsessed over. You couldn’t lie, the small crush you harbored on Draco had only grown more and more each day. It started about three years ago, during your third year when you had seen him in the hospital wing after his run-in with Buckbeak.

You remember the sheer shock you felt when you had seen him for the first time that year. The slicked back hair was gone, he had grown several inches taller, maybe even a foot taller now that you thought about it. His voice had deepened into that haughty tone you somehow couldn’t get enough of. But just like you, many other girls noticed these changes too and began pursuing him. Something you’d never had the guts to do.

Until now.

The feelings you had been suppressing for the past 3 years had come back in overflow the second you bumped into him the other day. Even worse this time since you’ve actually had a conversation with him now and the fact that he won’t stop looking at you.

Slughorn pulled you out of your thoughts when he announced to everyone to partner up to brew the potion he had been lecturing us on all week. Draught of Peace.

“This is your chance,” your friend besides you sings to you as you looked longingly in Draco’s direction who hasn’t moved from his spot.

“No, he usually works by himself, I don’t want to bother him anymore than I have,” you sigh, slumping down in your seat.

“Y/N, you’ve been in love with him since third year,” she huffs, “besides, maybe he only works alone because no one can stand being near him.”

“Shhh, someone might hear you,” you hiss, slumping even lower into your seat. “I am not in love with him, it’s just a stupid crush,” you whisper angrily to her while she only rolls her eyes.

“Okay, well, have fun working alone,” she smirks, getting up from her seat and scurrying across the room to join another classmate. You gape at her in distress, she returns the same gesture, mocking you. She then points over to Draco and smiles, giving you an encouraging thumbs up.

You rest your head in your hand for a second, feeling the hot blush that had made its way onto your face and focused your gaze onto the table in front of you. You mentally hexed your friend, who thought it’d be a good idea if she were ditch you so you would be forced to look for another partner. Jokes on her, you’re not getting up from this seat.

‘I can’t go up to him,” you thought, ‘he probably thinks I’m some annoying creep who won’t leave him alone. I’ll just work by myself.”

Draco looks over at you, noticing the empty space beside you and the frown on your face as you pushed your Potions book to the side and sat up to get your cauldron ready. You were alone, and so was he. He fought himself on whether or not he should join you. It was a bold move, especially for him. He was used to working alone, but the longer he looked at you, the more he found himself missing the sound of your honey sweet voice and soft eyes. Before he had any more time to argue with himself about it, he gathered up all his things and walked over to the empty spot next to you.

“Do you want help?” Draco asked awkwardly, immediately regretting his decision to move. Your eyes shot up from the potion book, not expecting to see the blond next to you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Um, yes, actually, that’d be nice,” you mutter out to him, moving some stuff around on the table so that he would have space for his. You could hardly contain the deep red blush that was already on your face from intensifying at his presence. You swallowed thickly as the realization set in that your longtime crush was right beside you and even offering a helping hand. Which in Draco’s case was extremely rare, almost unheard of. Matter of fact, this is something the Slytherin Prince has never done.

He sets his bag down and his supplies and takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves so that he could get started on crushing the porcupine quills into the moonstone powder. The amount of times he has made this potion by now for himself was sad, but good in this case since he would be able to impress you with his skill.

He worked diligently and quietly and you watched as his long slender fingers worked everything with attention and precision. You were looking up at him every now and then which you now realized was a terrible idea considering you were in the middle of cutting ginger root and you weren’t exactly coordinated to begin with. You felt the sharp blade slide across your finger and a small gasp left your mouth when the pain instantly began once the first drop of blood fell.

Draco looked at you in confusion, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the blood dripping from your hand and your face contorted in pain. You ignored the looks Draco was giving you, afraid that he might be looking at you with contempt for being sloppy.

“Y/L/N, perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco suggests, now seeing that the cut was very deep as you inspected it. In fact, it was so deep he swore he could’ve seen bone.

“No, it’s fine, I can heal it,” you ignored the sharp pain and placed your hand on the table and pointed your wand at the cut with your uninjured hand. You focused on the cut and closed your eyes, letting your wand do its magic with your unspoken spell. When you opened your eyes, the cut was gone, just a small scar in its place and drying blood around it. “You see,” you smile, turning towards Draco and waving your finger, “brand new.”

“You don’t want dittany for the scarring?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.

“No, I don’t mind them and this one is small anyways. They’re like memories to me. Some come from good experiences, some bad. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little clumsy,” you explain, a small smile on your lips.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” he sighs, “so you’ve managed to become your own healer because of that?”

“Exactly that,” you hummed. “That’s actually what I’m studying to be. I plan on being at St. Mungo’s once we graduate. I’ve been studying for it my whole life.”

Draco was silent for a moment. He watched as you carefully threw ingredients into the cauldron and stirred them with caution. He noticed that despite your clumsiness, you handled everything you touched with a care and gentleness. It was a calming sight to him for some reason and he faintly smiled.

“I think you’d be a great healer,” he complimented quietly. You looked at him with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen and his heart swells at the thought of it being because of him. He feels a smile mirroring yours that tries to break through, but he fights it.

“You know, you’re a lot nicer than you let on,” you say quietly, waiting for his reaction from the corner of his eye. Draco wants to give you a snarky remark, just to uphold his cold reputation he’s given himself since his first day back at Hogwarts, but he doesn’t.

Instead of saying anything, he just shrugged and gave you a small smile, turning his attention back to the task at hand. You do the same, choosing to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled.

When Slughorn came by to check when you finished, he eyed you and Draco and smiled.

"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to partner up with someone,” he gleamed. “Miss Y/L/N here is an excellent potions student such as yourself.”

“Yes, she is,” Draco responded, keeping his eyes trained on the professor. He didn’t want to look at you, feeling embarrassed that he has now complimented you twice in the last 20 minutes. You smiled to yourself, something you’ve been doing a lot of since the slytherin boy sat next to you.

“Well, I suppose you’ll be pleased to know the two of you have brewed an outstanding potion,” Slughorn grins, “both of you will receive perfect marks on this. You can be excused from today’s class now.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you begin gathering your things and turn towards Draco. “I’ll see you next class? Or maybe somewhere around the castle when I accidentally bump into you.”

Draco chuckles and shakes his head, “perhaps. I’ll see you soon, Y/L/N.”

With that, he strides out of the class, you staring at the back of his platinum blond head with a stupid smile on your face.

“You’re welcome,” your friend suddenly appeared next to you, playfully slapping your arm. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen Draco look so... calm.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Weeks had gone by, and several Potions classes. The seat beside you now belonged to Draco and the two of you had in a sense, become friends. Or acquaintances. You couldn’t quite say. 

He was still brooding and mostly kept to himself, but he would converse with you here and there about things, almost always school. The two of you continuously getting outstanding marks on everything you produced much to Slughorn’s delight.

Sometimes he would come to class looking disheveled or angry and those were the days where no matter how much you tried to talk to him to at least maybe get his mind off things, he would ignore you. Wouldn’t even look at you. You couldn’t deny how it had hurt your feelings, but you would brush off the hurt and remind yourself that it wasn’t personal. He was obviously going through something, you didn’t know what, but you had to respect that sometimes he just didn’t want to talk. That was hard. Especially because you just wanted to hear his voice or see him give you that rare smile when you would say something he found amusing or you would accidentally drop something off the table with your elbows or knocked over with your hands. 

You were rounding a corridor when you saw the flash of blond zoom past you. He didn’t see you, but you saw the pointed look in his eyes and the tears that were pooling in the stormy gray eyes that you adored. You mentally fought yourself on whether or not you should follow him, he looked so upset and all you wanted to do was give him a peace of mind. So you followed him, all through two corridors until he disappeared into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Your heart broke at the sobs that filled the bathroom. They were full of pain and despair. The sound of his rapid breathing mixed in with his cries was more than enough to let you know that he was having a panic attack. You pushed open the door slightly to see him hunched over a sink, his robe discarded on the ground along with his vest and tie leaving him in only a white long sleeved dress shirt. 

You wanted to run in and help, but stayed back, realizing that this was something that was extremely personal. You knew he would be livid if you or anyone saw him like this, so broken and emotional. You were about to leave, all of a sudden feeling very ashamed for even following him in here. You watched as he looked up into the mirror, an anger flashing in his eyes as he stared at the reflection looking back at him. Not yours, but his. All he could see was a monster staring back at him. A failure. A weak man. He was disgusted and angry with what he saw and before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled his fist back and you watched it collide with the middle of the mirror where he had been. The glass shattered upon impact, the shards now flying in all different directions and embedding into his knuckles. He fell to the ground on his knees, in pain and clutching his fist as his cries only got louder. 

That was when you threw open the door, rushing in to help him, not caring that you were going to have to put up a fight in order to even get near him. Draco’s eyes shot up to meet yours, and just like you thought, he was beyond pissed to see you. 

Draco has never felt such humiliation in his life. The beautiful and kind y/h girl he had acquainted himself with, was now looking at him with pity. He grabbed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you with such quickness that you faltered in your steps.

“Get. Out!” He yelled, his wand shaking violently in his uninjured hand. He would never hex you, but he figured you would fall for his bluff and leave. But you didn’t. You only sat yourself down a few feet away from him and felt your own tears begin to fall. “Y/L/N, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t leave, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” you challenged. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he sneered, his wand still pointed at you.

“You’re bleeding, a lot, Draco,” you point to his bloodied hand that curled to his chest. “You know I can save you a trip to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey’s interrogation.”

After a few moments of silence and a wand still pointed at you, you slowly scoot towards him. Your hand encloses around the one holding his wand and you lower it for him while he watches you. He was still crying and breathing heavily. His panic attack somehow getting worse now and no longer having the energy to fight you. You finally reach him, now knee to knee with him and you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Draco, just breath with me,” you say calmly. “In,” you took a long exaggerated inhale, and after a few seconds, “out,” and let out an equally exaggerated exhale. You did that with him for a while, his pained gray eyes focused on yours the whole time, never breaking eye contact. Once he was calmed down enough and was just left with the post crying hiccoughs, you took his injured hand in yours. There was shards and particles of glass stuck in his reddened and bloody skin.

You reached into your robe pocket and pulled out a set of tweezers you kept with you. You often found yourself getting splinters or tiny rocks stuck in your skin when your hands hit the pavement when you’d fall you try and catch yourself.

“This might hurt,” you warn, starting to remove one of the biggest pieces. He sharply inhales as you try your best to do take it out carefully.

It was quiet the rest of the process, just sniffles and gasps from Draco when you had removed a piece that especially hurt. When you were done, you waved your wand over the gashes and watched as they faded into faint pink scars. You got up, pulling him with you and took him to the sink where you rinsed off the blood from both your hands and his. 

He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what. He just stared at you, dumbfounded and confused. You turned your body to face his and he did the same, eyeing you carefully and still very cautious to any move you made.

“I can leave now, if you’d like me to,” you offer quietly. He stayed silent, wondering if he should just send you off. But he didn’t want to. You had already seen him at his worst, and he was terribly alone, so he just shook his head ‘no.’ You looked up at him and decided to risk it all. “Can I give you a hug?”

Draco was stunned at the question, his heart pounding against his chest. “I suppose,” he managed to let out in a strained voice.

You slowly stepped closer to him and slid your arms up his biceps until your hands met behind his neck. You stood on your tippy toes and pulled him into you, his chin now resting on your shoulder as your hand smoothed the back of his head. You felt him stiff under your touch and as he got comfortable in your embrace, his arms raised from his sides and snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him. You stayed like that for what felt like forever, and he held you tightly, not wanting to let go.

This was the first time in a long time that he had felt any type of relief. It had been such a constant uphill battle for him, day after day. He took a deep inhale accidentally, but the smell of your perfume and shampoo filling his nose and his mind made him feel at ease. The warmth of your body from underneath his fingertips brought him peace and succor.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair so quietly that if you weren’t so focused on him, you would’ve missed it.

“Anytime.”

That was the day Draco Malfoy became your friend.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Potions class was no longer the only place you would see Draco. Now that the two of you were comfortable with one another and he trusted you more than anyone else, he found himself hanging out with you every day during his free time when he would be done messing with the cabinet.

It would be taking walks around the castle. Sneaking out at night and meeting behind statues to talk. Sitting together at a bench in the courtyard. Skipping stones along the Black Lake. It’s been months of this. Months of friendship he so desperately needed. You had helped him through several more panic attacks and meltdowns, each time coming closer together. He never told you about what caused them. The worst ones were when he found he had almost killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, and as much as you begged him to tell you, he kept his mouth shut. 

He had spent so much time with you that it was affecting him. But for the better. He found himself eating again at the Slytherin table and his friends were more than excited to have him back. He still wasn’t too buddy-buddy with everyone as he once was, but he joined conversations and shared a couple jokes. He was even sleeping a little more. He was still beyond stressed, but it wasn’t as gut-wrenching. He enjoyed Potions again and even started paying a little more attention in his other classes. His new found energy even helped him greatly progress in mending the vanishing cabinet, finally making a breakthrough in fixing it.

He would lie awake at night sometimes and thank Merlin you crashed into his life, literally. You were like an angel to him, healing his heart with every word and smile and touch you sent his way. It was easy with you. He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, reminding himself that when he would have to follow through with his task, he would lose you and that thought pained him to no end. But he was selfish, and he adored you with every fiber of his being so he couldn’t leave you alone. And especially not when he needed you most.

Today, you lied in the grass, shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the sky and watching the clouds. You were a little ways from the castle, away from all your other classmates and teachers and it was nice. Finally being able to enjoy time with the Slytherin Prince without people gawking at the two of you.

“My mother used to do this with me when I was a small,” Draco trailed off, his eyes following a particular funny shaped cloud. “She would take me out to the garden behind the Manor, usually when father was doing some work at the ministry. But we would sit against this tall oak tree and I’d be on her lap and she’d have her arms wrapped around me and she would point out the funniest shaped clouds and try to pinpoint what they resemble. Sometimes she’d even joke around and say the weirdest shaped cloud looked like father.”

You giggled at that last part, your heart swelling at the story. He rarely talked about his family, but when he did, it would always be of his mother and a happy memory he had with her, never his father.

“Draco, can I ask you something?” you turn onto your side, your elbow holding you up as you gazed down at him.

“What do you wanna know, darling?” you blushed at the nickname but brushed it aside, knowing he only meant it in a friendly way.

“Forgive me if it’s rude, you don’t have to answer,” you begin, “but do you miss your father? I know it’s none of my business and I’m so sorry the Daily Prophet put your family business on blast like that. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”

Draco frowned and followed you in turning onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow to face you. You remembered the image of Draco and his mother on the newspaper, bright lights flashing across their faces as all the press tried to get picture of them after the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban. You remembered seeing Draco look so sad, yet strong beside his mother as he looked from her and then into the camera with disdain. 

“Sometimes, I do,” he answers, eyebrows furrowed as he thought of his father. “My whole life, he’s expected nothing short of perfection from me. There were no room for mistakes, and if I made any, I would be punished for them. I remember coming to Hogwarts was like an escape, a place where I could finally sort of relax and be a child. I don’t miss his scolding or his coldness. But I miss having a father, I miss going home on that first day of summer and seeing both my parents even if he was going to reprimand me for something later on in the day. He’s been with me my whole life, and now he’s gone, stuck in a cell in Azkaban. He’s never going to be the same. Home is never going to be the same.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as you listened to the boy beside you, a distant look in his eyes as he turned back over on his back to look at the sky in the middle of his explanation. You sat up and he did the same, looking at you with a frown when he noticed you were about to cry. You took your hand in his and held it tightly.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you mumble. “You don’t deserve any of the bad things you’ve been through.”

“I do,” he shrugs. “I’ve been a real git since I’ve been at Hogwarts, you know.”

“You’re different now,” you say. “Sure, you still haven’t lost a little bit of the Malfoy snobbishness and you’re still a bit of a git, but you’re kinder and more gentle. You’re a lot more empathetic and perceptive. I mean, I’ve never spoken to you prior to this year, but your reputation follows and the Draco in front of me doesn’t seem anything like the Draco you were.”

“How you’ve managed to insult me while complimenting me is something I’ve never seen anyone be able to do successfully is astonishing,” he laughs, a smile growing on his face as you laughed with him.

“I’m serious, Dray,” you giggle, “I think you’re a good person.”

“I’m not good,” he thinks to himself. The compliment leaving your lips made him feel foul. He didn’t deserve to have such a kind soul complimenting him to be something he’d never amount to. He frowned and harshly stood up, and you quickly followed. Suddenly afraid that you might have overstepped your boundaries.

“Where are you going?” You ask, fear trembling in your voice. He begins to hurriedly walk off and you chase after him, stopping in front of him so you could place your hands on his chest to stop him. 

“Y/N, let me go,” he pleads. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“I think I’ve been around you long enough to know who you are.”

“Not long enough.”

You stare up at him, but he refuses to look at you. His body feels rigid under your touch and it pains you to see him beginning to shut down again.

“I know something has been bothering you this year, and I know it’s not just because of what happened with your father,” you start. “I don’t know what is hurting you so deeply enough to make you hate yourself, but I’m here to tell you that whatever that thing is, it doesn’t define you.”

Draco swallows thickly, the tears already falling down his cheeks. “It does, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you cry with him. “Even if you don’t see your goodness, I do.”

Both you and Draco are crying, the tree you were now standing under was swaying violently in the wind, as if it was picking up on your guys’ emotions. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m not good,” he whispers to you, “and once you see that, you’re going to hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Draco Malfoy,” you promise, a complete sincerity in your voice that it makes his heart jump.

Draco lifts his head up and sniffles, he watched you do the same, peering up at him through your wet lashes. He brought his thumb up to smooth the crease in between your eyebrows, letting it fall down to your cheeks where he wiped away the stray tears that had stilled. His hand then landed on your mouth that was pulled down in a grimace that matched his own. His thumb grazed over your lips, the softness of them nearly driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to feel them against his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. He didn’t want to drag you into the darkness of his life more than he already has.

“Kiss me,” you said to him, so softly but it rang loud in his ears. You had seen the way he looked at you and how he seemed so focused on your lips. You knew what he was thinking because it was exactly what you were thinking. You wanted this just as badly as he did. “Kiss me.”

Every argument he had in his head vanished and suddenly he closed the small space between the two of you and gently placed his lips onto yours. It was a fluid movement, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

Your hands found their way in his hair, holding him closer to you and he did the same by gripping onto your hips. His lips were soft against yours, filled with fervor and desire. He was gentle with you, but you could still feel the deepness of his kiss and how it intensified with each second. He had put all his emotions into it, his care, his appreciation, his want, his sadness, his grief, his love.

When he pulled away and the two of you stood there staring at each other with love stricken eyes, he realized he had made a grave mistake.

He realized he was in love with you. He realized that he would never be able to let you go, and you would never let him go. And he knew that with the direction his life was going in, one way or another, you would get hurt and he would lose you, maybe even to death itself.

So in that moment he knew. As much as he loved you and wanted more than anything to be with you, he couldn’t put you in that position where you would be staring evil and death in the face. He wouldn’t tarnish your beautiful soul like that.

“I have to go,” he breathed out. “Please, leave me alone. For good.”

And with that he turned away, leaving you standing under the tree with tears falling down your face, a sob escaping your throat and the sound of your knees hitting the grass below you. He held back his own cries and walked faster away from you, knowing you had finally done damage to yourself that you couldn’t heal, and it was all his fault.

PART 2

[fanficimagery]

Lost and then Found pt. I

Imagine being taken by HYDRA. After years with them, they set you loose on someone you haven't seen in a while. Unfortunately for HYDRA, you weren't as susceptible to their mind experiments like they thought.

Words: 8.6K Author's Note: Major trigger warning! There will be a bit of talk about non-consensual pregnancies and some failed pregnancies from said attempts. Also I didn’t want to post this, but this upcoming week is going to be stressful for me and I honestly don’t know how much writing I’ll get done. Please read the bottom note for help on hopefully part 2 of this.

Tag list: @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination @b1sexualtonystark @living-that-best-life @alexnicolaidisss @l0ve-0f-my-life @eliwinchester99 @mimilh @rosesloml  @meredeph @lexy9716​ 

The team had been hanging around various floors of the tower when FRIDAY alerted everyone that they were needed in the meeting room ASAP. And when FRIDAY sounded urgent, the team knew it must be serious. Leaving the gym, Steve and Bucky run into Clint and Natasha who had been coming out of the locker rooms.

"Any idea what's going on?" Bucky asks Nat.

She shakes her head. "FRIDAY wouldn't cough up any more information. I contacted Tony, but he just urged me to get my ass moving."

As they wait for the elevator, the doors slide open and they nod to Wanda who's already standing in the back corner. With her arms crossed over her chest, she nods to each of her teammates as they file in. Ever since she had lost Vision, she hadn't been quite herself and everyone knew to give her whatever time she needed.

In the meeting room, the atmosphere is immediately tense. Sam is at the table and as a testament to how serious the situation is he doesn't even crack a joke the second he lays eyes on Bucky. Everyone takes a seat, with the exception of Tony who's still pacing at the front of the room with a tablet in his hand.

"Tony," Steve calls out. "What's going on?"

A moment passes and then Tony stops at the head of the table, looking up. "This." He swipes up on his tablet screen, sending a video hologram to the middle of the table so everyone can see. "This came in about fifteen minutes ago."

The video plays and the team watches on in shocked speechlessness. The video shows a young girl who couldn't have yet been a teenager be strapped down to a gurney and injected with several different vials. They listen as the poor girl screams and thrashes, and sobs about burning on the inside.

The video cuts out before popping up again and shows the same girl, a little older this time, and having a mouth piece shoved into her small mouth before a contraption is lowered around her head. Eyes dart to Bucky and no one says a word as his metal arm whirs when he watches the young girl go through something very similar to what he went through. As she screams, the video cuts out again yet again.

Everyone had been so focused on Bucky's reaction, that no one paid any attention to Wanda as her eyes widened when the video came back for a third round. The girl on screen is definitely older now, her baby fat has all but vanished, and she looks defeated. Her hair hangs in limp strands around her face and there's a collar around her neck that Wanda knows gives off one hell of a shock to the person wearing it when they disobeyed orders. An older male walks into view and the girl cowers away. She winces, her hands flying up to the collar around her neck. "Begin," a voice then sounds. The male lunges for the small female and she tries her best to fend off his blows, but she ends up beaten and bloodied within thirty seconds. At the end of the fight the man is given instructions and then he walks over to the girl, kneeling down and biting her around the wrist. She screams, the man takes a bullet to the back of the head, and the video cuts out.

This time when the video comes back, the girl looks a little more steadier on her feet and less beaten down. She looks ready for a fight. Towards the end of the clip she has bloodied, pointed fingertips. She's shoved back into a chair and that's when her emotionless mask drops, begging to not be wiped. She screams as they start the procedure and then by the end of it there are no more tears. There's just an emotionless female awaiting orders as the video cuts out.

Finally the last clip shows her fighting like she's been doing it for years, taking down one attacker after the other until she's the last one left standing. There's a sharp whistle and the girl stands at attention, and the video zooms in on her stoic expression before cutting out altogether.

"Who sent this, Tony?" Steve readily asks.

"Don't know. I have FRIDAY chasing an IP address that just keeps pinging in every part of the world."

"Do we even know who she is?" Natasha asks. "And what the whole point of this video was?"

"No. Not a cl-"

"Her name is Y/N." Everyone looks to Wanda who can't take her gaze off her hands in her lap. "She was already there with HYDRA when Pietro and I showed up so long ago."

"Willingly?" Clint wonders.

Wanda shakes her head. "When we had gotten there, she had just turned nineteen. She was already stronger than the average human, but we never truly saw what she could do. She was different." She finally looks up, expression sad. "HYDRA was not all that we thought it would be, but by then there was no turning back. We'd seen Y/N around base, but she was always so stoic and never spoke to anyone. But when we had one on one time with her and the guards would leave us under her care, it was like a switch had flipped within her. She was so much lighter and she spoke to us like we had been friends since we were children."

"Why didn't we find her the first time we met you and your brother?" Tony then asks.

"She had been gone for weeks by then. They told us she was killed on a mission they sent her on, and that me and Pietro were going to be the new fists of HYDRA."

"The last video was stamped a week ago," Bucky says. "HYDRA lied."

Sam huffs. "Of course they did."

"They must have seen you, your brother, and Y/N getting friendly. They couldn't have their best weapons socializing and turning against them," Bucky says.

Clint sighs. "So what's the plan?"

"We get her back," Wanda says, leaving no room for Tony or Steve to say otherwise. "She was forcefully taken, unlike Pietro and I. She does not belong with them."

"It's been years, Wanda," Natasha says softly. "She might not be the same girl you knew."

"But what if she is? She is the only family I have left."

For a long moment no one says anything, so Tony takes it upon himself. "Then we look for her, but you're responsible for getting through to her. She'll only know you, not us."

"Fine."

Steve and Tony talk a bit more about being prepared for when FRIDAY tracks down their target, and then everyone is being dismissed.

Wanda takes a moment, letting everyone get up and walk out first, when Clint walks up behind her chair. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he leans down some to say, "Y/N is not your only family, kid. We're your family too." Wanda's heart cracks just a little and she reaches up to cover Clint's hand with her own to let him know she understands. "Just keep that in mind in case we don't find Y/N or she's no longer who she used to be."

Wanda gulps and then nods. "I will."

Working for HYDRA has been absolute hell. Ever since you had been taken as a little girl you were hell-bent on getting out of there which meant doing anything and everything to be in their good graces. Obviously you didn't learn to do so until you were sixteen and had most of your emotions under control.

They experimented and tortured and even tried their mind wipes like they did on their beloved Winter Soldier, but surprisingly your mind was never empty like they hoped to be. Of course, though, you kept that little detail to yourself wipe after wipe. But after everything that went on while you were in their grasp and after whatever they turned you into, you realized you couldn't quite leave and turn yourself loose on the public while you had no control over what you could do.

So you stayed and obeyed like a good little soldier, and attempted to train their new little puppets. Only being left alone with Wanda and Pietro became the one thing you started looking forward to up until they told you the twins didn't survive one of the trials. You had been heartbroken and devastated, but you couldn't let them see. So you nodded, let them move you to another facility and began anew.

You lost yourself within HYDRA, honing your skills and becoming someone even the other soldiers started to become wary of. The mind wipes became less and less the more obedient you became, but then they had a new mission for you- a mission which made your loathing for them hit an all time high.

You've been sitting in solitary for weeks now, biding your time until you could break free and get the hell out of dodge. All morning you've been antsy and it only becomes worse when you can feel the tension mounting all around you.

The door opens and you immediately snap to attention, but the guard that comes in does not have a lunch tray in his hands. Instead, he has a uniform which he readily tosses at you. "Get dressed. You've got a mission."

You quietly snarl at the guard after catching your suit and his hand immediately goes to the electrical prod at his side. "Careful," you drawl. "You wouldn't want your superiors to find out you injured their most prized possession."

His right eye twitches and he lets his hand fall limp. "The clock's ticking on your life, bitch, and when it's up I'll happily put you down."

"We'll just see about that."

The guard turns around and stomps away so he's standing just outside your door, and you hurriedly strip to get dressed in the apparent new uniform. The material for the pants are thin and fit like a glove, but you've worn these before and you know they're impenetrable to blades. Your boots are standard issued, but the long sleeve shirt- the shirt gives you pause because of the padding that's been added to it.

Once you're dressed and your hair has been tied up, you march up behind the soldier and readily clasp your hands behind your back to await orders.

Emotionless mask in place, you're led out and about the base. Everyone seems to be in a tizzy and the smell of gunpowder and blood is thick in the air. You can hear the gunshots and shouting from behind closed doors several rooms away, and you're not surprised that that's exactly where you're led.

The General meets you outside one room in particular and he dismisses your guard with a wave of his hand. You bite your tongue to keep from smiling at the fact the guard grumbles at being dismissed so easily.

"Ah my dear Y/N," the General coos. "Come. We've got several mice trapped and we need you to rid us of them once and for all." You blankly blink at him, nodding once to let him know you understand your mission.

The second he turns around to enter the code for the room, your shoulders drop just a bit and you attempt to put yourself in the mindset of fighting once again. The door slides open and you follow like an obedient little soldier, only to stop short at the sight of the assembled heroes standing on the opposite end of the room. One in particular stands out, her scent hitting you like a freight train and you have to try your hardest not to show an inkling of knowledge about who she is.

You stand next to, but an inch or so behind, the General's left side with your hands still clasped behind your back and feet shoulder width apart as you stare straight ahead. You're trying your damnedest to focus on the red, white, and blue shield Captain America is holding out before him, and not show any recognition for Wanda who is desperately calling out to you in hopes of recognizing her.

You block out what the General is saying, no doubt gloating about your skills, and zone back in just as he gives what he thinks is a command you're programmed to obey. With your right foot planted, you take a step back with a left and flick your wrists out at your sides so claws unsheathe themselves. You can hear several heartbeats pick up speed and you finally meet Wanda's gaze. She seems to still as you offer her the faintest of grins and send her a wink, only to twist on your right foot a moment later and send your clawed left hand into the throat of the General.

The Avengers all tense and prepare for a battle as the General gurgles on his own blood, and you lean in close to his ear so you can say, "Your first mistake was taking me from my family when I was just a little girl." He tries to pull your hand from his throat, but he is no match for your strength. Growling, you squeeze your hand that's still embedded in his throat. "And your last mistake was reintroducing me to Wanda, and giving me hope." Just as the alarms start to blare, you rip the General's throat out and let his limp body fall.

"Y/N?"

You glance up, smirking at Wanda and her wide-eyed expression. "Hello, little Maximoff." You flick your hand free of some of the blood and then smile at her companions. "Avengers." You nod at them in greeting.

"You remember."

You blink at her, not bothering to answer the obvious. Instead, you can hear walkie talkies going haywire outside the room and you turn around to glance up at the windows where you know others are watching. You mockingly wave at them with your bloodied hand and start pacing in the middle of the room, putting Wanda and the Avengers at your back. Looking up at the window, you let your smirk drop into a scowl. "You think you can take me from my family, torture and brainwash me, and then sic me on the only other family I've ever known?" You yell, seething. Cracking your neck, you let your rage take over and feel the bones shift uncomfortably in your face. Even your eyes burn and you know they're flaring an electric blue. "You're fools for thinking you could control me."

You feel a soft pressure on your wrist and immediately turn to growl at the person who dares touch you, but you lower your head in shame when you see it's just Wanda. She softly gasps and you try to turn away. "What did they do to you?" She asks as she gently grasps you by the chin to make you face her once more.

"What they do best?" You mumble, sharp teeth catching on your bottom lip. "They turned me into a monster."

Wanda's voice catches in her throat, but before she can say anything you're facing the door and stepping in front of her to shield her. Seven soldiers rush in, electrical prods gripped tight in hand.

"Why don't they have any guns?" You hear one of the Avengers ask.

"They must want her alive," someone else answers.

"If you don't stand down, we're going to have to resort to drastic measures," one HYDRA agent says.

"Then resort to them," you growl, "because now that I know Wanda is alive you're gonna have to kill one of us just to separate us again."

Wanda steps up next to you then, hands slowly rotating at the wrists as red energy floats around them. "And trust me, I am not so easily killed."

You can sense the Avengers all stepping into line behind you, but you don't bother looking at them. Instead, you focus on the threat in front of you and the fact they have more people gathering outside once the first line falls. Then from one second to the next, there's a silent command that sends the HYDRA agents into fight mode.

You break off from Wanda, drawing a few agents towards you. Your fighting skills come into play and it's easy for you to either block or withstand the shock of the electrical prods. However, the agents are not so lucky since you're going in for the kill. If you're not kicking in knees and snapping necks, your claws and teeth are digging into throats and ripping out flesh. You're roaring and snarling, and scaring most of the agents you come into contact with, but there are a select few which are all too happy to disobey orders and engage you in physical combat.

You take quite a few hits to the face and sides, and for a moment you're worried, but you have to push through and worry later.

You're not sure how long the fight lasts, but all you know is hat the last agent you claw until he's gurgling on his own blood is the last one to go down. Panting and heaving, electric blue eyes scan the room. All the Avengers are still standing, most of them don't even look like they participated in the fight, but all are watching you with wary eyes.

Wanda steps in your direction and you growl, but then stop the moment her hands go up to show you she means no harm. "It's over," she tells you, her accent heavy and reminding you of so long ago when you first took her under your wing. "If you want to leave, you need to calm down. My team has no idea who you are and you being so hostile makes them nervous."

"Team?" The word rumbles through your throat as your gaze jumps from person to person. "But where's Pietro?"

When your gaze lands back on Wanda, she's smiling softly. But that smile soon wobbles as she shakes her head. "He died a while back. I'm sorry."

You shake your head as you take a step back and Wanda quickly closes the distance between the two of you. She wraps her arms around until you lower your head to her shoulder and you sniffle quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. He died a hero," she says. "We saw the error of our ways and the Avengers took us in." You finally allow yourself to wrap your arms around her, breathing her in and calming your rage. When you feel yourself sag against her, you finally pick up your head and smile as she runs a finger down the bridge of your nose. "There you are."

"M'sorry."

"For?"

"For you having to see me that way. I didn't even know you were alive and then they just told me to dress and take care of a mice problem they had. I didn't know it was the Avengers."

"It's okay," Wanda assures you. "You did the right thing."

"Um, I hate to break up this crazy reunion, but we need to go."

You glance at the man with wings and nod. "That would be a good idea. They'll send more soldiers soon."

Captain America glances at Wanda. "Get her to the quinjet. We're gonna do a sweep of the base before bringing it down."

Wanda gives him a nod and then she's urging you to follow her. You follow her through the winding hallways and an elevator ride up to the surface, and you huff a quiet laugh when you see the destruction left in the Avengers' wake. Off in the distance there's a jet and Wanda wastes no time in leading you up the ramp, and onto a seat.

"Just wait right here." She rushes towards a door and you're surprised a small bathroom sits behind it. She grabs what appears to be a hand towel from inside and then walks over behind the cockpit of the jet, grabbing a bottle of water from inside a bench seat. Then walking back over to you, she gestures to your face. "You've got a lot of blood."

"Oh." You take the towel and water, and quickly wet the towel to start wiping off your face and hands. There's nothing you can do for your clothes, so you leave them be.

As you wait for the others to return, you fidget in your seat and exhale softly as you catch Wanda's gaze. "What made you guys hit this specific base?" You wonder. "They're usually very careful about the comings and goings so they didn't attract the wrath of the Winter Soldier."

Wanda smiles and takes a seat across from you. "Bucky has been going on a world tour of tearing down HYDRA bases in his free time. We think HYDRA got tired of it and wanted to lure us into a trap, so they sent us a video of you."

You frown. "Why me? And what video?"

"They wanted me to rush in and not be at one hundred percent, hoping I'd make a mistake," she says. "Bucky and Natasha believe HYDRA saw us getting close, so they separated us and told us the other had died so we'd follow them faithfully. And when they sent that video, I was stunned. I wanted to rush in and bring you home, but the team made me take a beat." Having stood up halfway through her explanation, Wanda had retrieved a tablet and tapped away at it. Handing it to you, you find a paused video on screen.

Pressing play, you watch yourself be tortured and experimented on, and taught to kill. You wrinkle your nose at how young you were and how sickly you were at one point until they found a method that took and made you what you currently are. You're so caught up in the video that you aren't paying attention to your surroundings and are surprised to see the Avengers walking up the ramp.

"Done already?" Wanda asks.

"All we have to do is detonate once we're up in the air."

Wanda exhales in relief and you meet the gaze of several Avengers who don't know what to think of you after seeing you rip through the HYDRA soldiers like it was nothing. To break the ice, you say the first thing that pops into your mind. "So that was fun."

Iron Man snorts as he walks on by, heading straight for the cockpit. "Great. Another murder-happy supersoldier."

"Uhh, I'm not a supersoldier," you say. The rest of the team glances at you and you go on to explain. "On the video, you all saw the man bite me. Right?" There are various forms of acknowledgement. "Well that's what turned me into what I am. A bite."

"A bite from what?" Black Widow wonders.

You shrug. "The best I can come up with is a werewolf."

Hawkeye snorts, but at your no nonsense expression he sobers up. "Oh. Uh, those exist?"

"I'm assuming so," you say. "I get extra rage-y during a full moon, so I'll probably have to be chained up when the next one comes around." Wanda looks startled at your confession, but you flash her a small grin. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now."

Everyone takes a moment before either taking a seat or steadying themselves, and then there's lift off. The quinjet rises higher and higher until it hovers mid-air. Captain America walks towards the cock-pit and after giving the all-clear you can hear a distant boom and concrete caving inward.

"Well that's another base down," Captain America says.

Exhaling in relief, you allow your eyes to close and relish the feeling of being free. Your moment of peace, however, is short lived when you feel eyes on you. Opening them, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are sitting across from you now. Wanda has taken the seat next to you and you smile as she lays her head on your shoulder.

"I know you've been through a lot, but we have some things we'd like to discuss," the good Captain says.

You nod. "Ask away."

"They wiped you over and over," the Winter Soldier says matter of factly. "Why didn't it take?"

"I honestly have no idea," you admit. "The first time, it took. I didn't know who I was or where I was."

"How did you break out of it?"

"Something one of the doctors said triggered a memory from when I was younger and it just snowballed from there. I started remembering, but a few months after that I was wiped again. The second time didn't take quite so well, but I still forgot. I just knew there was something missing and slowly but surely it started coming back," you say. "But then after I was bitten, the mind wipes completely stopped working. It hurt like hell and I learned to fake it until I could find a way out of there."

"We didn't find much on you," the Winter Soldier says. "Their computers were already self-destructing, but we did manage to find a book where they wrote down your trigger words. You don't mind if we say them to make sure you're telling the truth?"

Wanda's head immediately snaps up, no doubt ready to tell them to back off, and you grin at her protectiveness. "It's fine." She then turns to look at you in shock and you wave her off. "Honestly, it's fine. They don't work. I should seriously win an Oscar for best actress."

Hawkeye and the Black Widow stand on either side of Captain America and the Winter Soldier, and he slowly reads the words aloud after opening the book. "Blue. Full moon. Bitten. Beta. Wolf. Red."

Everyone seems to hold their breath and the corner of your lips quirk into a grin. "Still doubting me?"

Captain America huffs. "That's unbelievable."

"You've fought aliens and Asgardian princes, Captain. My broken mind should be the least unbelievable thing."

"Steve. My name's Steve," he says. "And you're not broken." Your grin falters as you blink at him in surprise. "And this is Bucky." The Winter Soldier nods at you and you return the sentiment.

"Clint," Hawkeye says.

"Natasha."

"Sam."

"And I'm Tony Stark, but I'm sure you knew that."

"Uh, sure," you slowly muse. When he squawks and turns around his seat, you huff a small laugh. "Of course I know who you are. I know who you all are thanks to HYDRA and their obsession with you. I just wasn't privy to the fact that Wanda was part of the team until now."

They take your word for it and now that with the knowledge that the trigger words do nothing to you, it seems to bring some ease to the group and everyone finally settles in. According to Wanda the jet ride is going to take a bit so you might as well make yourself comfortable.

About twenty minutes into the ride, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You chalk it up to the fact the seats aren't really that comfortable to begin with, but when you move to stretch your back a little you feel a pang just to the right side of your abdomen. The pain causes you to still and when it lingers you close your eyes to concentrate on your hearing. Unfortunately, the roar of the jet's engines prevents you from hearing anything.

You abruptly stand up which causes every gaze to snap to you, but you pay them no mind. You feel a cramp suddenly take hold on your lower abdomen and you bend at the waist, breathing through it.

"Y/N?" Wanda calls out.

"Something's wrong." With those two words, you feel the tension in the jet amp up. Your hand goes to your side, rubbing there and then following towards the cramp in your lower abdomen. "Something's really wrong."

"What's going on?" She asks.

You whirl around, eyes burning and you don't even care that they're flaring blue at your friend. "Your magic. Can you feel things with it? Or people. Anything?" You ask in a rush.

"I- I don't know what you-"

"Can you feel someone's conscious or whatever! I need- I just-"

"Okay. Okay," she slowly stands up. "I can. Now tell me what's wrong."

You immediately grab her right hand and set it against your abdomen. "Tell me if you can feel anything." Your eyes burn again, this time with unshed tears. "I can't listen for a heartbeat over the jet's engine."

As your words sink in, Wanda's eyes widen. "You're pregnant."

"Holy shit," you hear someone mutter behind you.

"It hurts." You finally allow the tears to fall. "It's not supposed to hurt."

"How- how far along?"

"Three and a half months. Please, Wanda, I can't-"

Without further prompting, Wanda's eyes glow red. You glance down and see her hand glow red as well, her magic then slowly encircling your abdomen. After what feels like an eternity, she slowly smiles. "There it is." Her gaze darts up to you and the red fades away. "I can feel him. Or her."

You choke back a sob, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle it. Wanda immediately embraces you and you sink into the comfort she's offering you. Then after a moment there's a hand on your shoulder that doesn't belong to Wanda and you lift your head up to see Sam.

"Hey girl, mind if I check you out? You fought awfully hard back at the base and given your condition I'd be more at ease if I knew everything was good."

Your brow furrows. "You're a doctor?"

"No, but I've got some training bandaging people up for the real docs. The most I can do for you right now is check for tender spots so I can report back to the doctor at the compound and insert an IV."

You look to Wanda for her opinion and she nods to let you know it's okay. Then looking back at Sam, you nod. "Okay."

Clint immediately pulls down a cot from where it was folded against the quinjet wall and Sam gestures for you to lay down. He instructs you to lift your shirt and you do so, lifting it until it's bunched beneath your bust. "Okay so I already see some bruising."

His fingertips touch the side of your abdomen and you automatically growl. He freezes and you wince. "Sorry. Instincts."

He chuckles. "It's okay. Given what you apparently are and the circumstances, that's to be expected. Am I good to proceed?"

"Yeah." You inhale shakily. "You're good."

Sam continues his brief examination, pressing here and there around your abdomen for any tender spots. You wince at one particular push and he quietly apologizes. When he's done, he leans back. "You're definitely gonna have to be checked out as soon as we get to the compound."

"Understood."

"But I'd like to get an IV started if that's okay. With you being pregnant and under HYDRA's care, I rather get some fluids in you that I know haven't been tampered with."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine."

You sit up and Wanda walks over to sit next to you on the cot, taking your hand between both of hers to offer you some semblance of comfort. Steve gets up to go speak with Tony and you ignore the quiet conversation they're obviously having about you. You can feel various stares on you, but you keep your gaze dead ahead and manage to keep from fidgeting or lashing out.

You don't know when, but you end up dozing off against Wanda. Then the next time you're conscious, you're being gently shaken awake and you watch as everyone starts to disembark the jet.

"We're home," Wanda murmurs. "Are you ready for this?"

"Yeah."

Slightly stretching, you're apprehensive about any sort of pain flaring but it never comes. You're thankful for it and then stand up to walk side-by-side with Wanda. Arm hooked through hers, you follow her off the jet and into the sleekest building you've ever laid eyes on. Sam is waiting for you, alongside a woman who smiles kindly at you. She introduces herself as Doctor Cho and you readily follow after her.

The labs make you apprehensive, but Wanda and Sam assure you everything is fine. Doctor Cho has you change into an unflattering medical gown and she talks through everything right before she does it so you're not caught off guard. All in all, being poked and prodded by this woman is a lot more pleasant than when HYDRA's doctors did it.

After a while, Doctor Cho comes back with a tablet in hand. You can see she wants to ask for privacy, but you immediately let her know that you're okay with Wanda and Sam hearing everything. Since you're staying wherever Wanda is, it's only fair the others know what's going on with you so there are no secrets.

Smiling, Doctor Cho glances at the tablet before looking up at you. "So everything seems to be completely normal," she says. Sam and Wanda exhale in relief. "Sam mentioned some bruising around your abdomen when he first walked in, but there is no sign of any bruising whatsoever. You and the baby seem one hundred percent healthy given everything you've through."

"I heal fast," you quietly admit. "I'm not sure why it took so long for me to feel the pain, but I panicked because of the baby and I wasn't thinking straight back on the jet."

"As an expecting mother, it's normal to panic. I had first hand experience with Mr. Stark's wife a few years back. Panicking is normal, but you just have to remember to breathe and take it one step at a time."

"Easier said than done," you mumble.

Doctor Cho chuckles. "Well for the next few weeks, I want you to take it easy. I'm not putting you on bed rest because of your accelerated healing, but I don't want you doing any strenuous activity."

"Don't worry," Wanda muses. "I'll make sure her butt is planted on the sofa at all times."

"Well okay then," Doctor Cho says. "I have some clothes for you if you want so you don't have to get back into that suit."

"I'd like that. Thank you."

"And if you're up for it, I'd like to see you again next week so we can make sure you and baby are still heading on the right track. I'll even order in some prenatal vitamins and a few others that you're lacking."

You nod. "Okay. That sounds good."

Reconnecting with Wanda had been easy. You were happy that she and Pietro got away from HYDRA when they did, even if Pietro didn't get to enjoy his freedom, and she was sad that you had been under HYDRA's thumb this entire time. But a little wine (for Wanda) and a lot of grape juice (for you), and the two of you were chatting like you hadn't missed any time at all.

After that, settling in at the Avengers' compound was a lot easier than you anticipated. Everyone, with the exception of Tony and Clint, lived just behind the compound in a new building that had been erected not too long ago and it was a lot more homely than you were expecting. You had moved in with Wanda for the meantime, keeping to her quarters so as to not step on any toes. But on the rare chance you decided to stretch your legs, you were surprised that the others would cordially start a conversation with you to see how you were doing.

Then after several visits with Doctor Cho where she continued to tell you that you and baby were doing extremely well, Wanda decided to have a family dinner in celebration.

"So who's all going to be here again?" You ask, already looking through the refrigerator.

"Just the usual," Wanda tells you. "I didn't want Clint and Tony to have to drag their families out here, but they do check in every now and then. They're happy you're settling in."

You snort, shutting the refrigerator door and standing straight. "Are you sure that's it and it's not because I haven't ravaged anyone to death?"

"Y/N.."

"I'm only joking." You grin. "Now can you please contact the others and tell them to hurry up? I'm starving!"

Grinning, Wanda takes her phone in hand and starts tapping away. She chuckles at something on her screen a few moments later, but before you can ask what's so funny you hear several individuals approaching. The aroma of the food hits you next and your mouth immediately starts watering. Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Sam walk in- each and every one of them carrying various bags of takeout.

"Hey Y/N, think you got a little drool there," Sam says, gesturing to the corner of his mouth.

And without missing a beat, you say, "Not only am I a pregnant woman, Samuel, but I'm a pregnant wolf. I will eat you if you don't stop teasing me."

Sam gasps in offence as everyone else chuckles, and then they're setting the food down on the table to start unloading it as Wanda asks you to help her with utensils and drinks. But the second you turn back towards the table and see all the food laid out, you pause and take it all in. And then promptly burst into tears.

Everyone seems startled, but you're quick to get yourself under control. Sniffling and then wiping the tears away, you say, "I'm sorry. It's just that there's so much food!"

Steve is the first to chuckle. "You're crying because there's a lot of food?"

"Well yeah. You brought all this food and you're not expecting anything from me." Steve's smile instantly vanishes. "HYDRA would offer me nice things, but it always came at a price."

Sam whistles lowly. "Well that just took a turn for the depressing." A beat passes and then, "Come on, little momma. Come grab some grub."

Wanda smiles kindly at you and you finish making your way to the table. You end up with her at your side and Bucky across from you, and a table full of food laid out in front of you. Then the second Natasha reaches for pan fried dumplings, you reach for one of the largest burgers you've ever seen and a whole tray of fries. You groan at the first taste and proceed to finish it off in five more bites. You eat some fries and then stare at the remaining burgers with longing.

"Go ahead," Natasha tells you. "We have more than enough."

You sheepishly grin in her direction and grab another hamburger, devouring it without a care in the world.

But then when you eye the sushi and reach for it, you gasp when the chopsticks in Bucky's hand whack the back of your hand. "No. Raw fish is bad for pregnant women."

A growl unconsciously slips free and the whole table freezes. But then the situation you're in sinks in and you roll your eyes as you pull your hand back into your lap. "Then just say so, Barnes. Don't whack me. I'm not a damn dog." You're scowling at him, but then your words sink in when you see the corner of his lips twitch. "Oh shut up."

The whole table laughs and you shake your head, grinning as you then reach for a container of Chinese noodles that smell absolutely divine.

Later, stuffed full and laying across a sofa, the whole lot of you are relaxing as the TV plays some random TV show Sam had put on. A commercial comes on for pampers and you groan. "I am not looking forward to diaper duty."

Wanda chuckles, but it's Natasha who asks, "So you plan on keeping the baby?" You startle at the question, glancing over at her. "I mean everyone just kind of figured you wouldn't want to given the circumstances of when and where you became pregnant, so-"

"No, I get it," you tell her. "When HYDRA first told me the plan of birthing them a soldier, I kind of lost it. I pretty much went feral at the idea of forcefully having a baby." Gulping, you quickly sit up to explain all that went down. "They wanted to breed me," you sneer, "and they had to sedate me for their chosen soldier to just enter the same room." Immediately your nose tingles, everyone's anger wafting off of them in waves. "Unfortunately for them, they forgot to take into account that my metabolism burned through everything ten times faster than a normal human and I came to just as my pants were being unbuttoned. The guy barely had time to smirk before I ripped his throat out. With my teeth."

The men all stare at you in various stages of shock, but Wanda and Natasha both smirk. "Atta girl," the redheaded assassin muses.

"Killing their top candidate was a big upset, so they attempted to wipe me again," you say with a shrug. "But when the higher-ups got wind of an unscheduled wipe, they came down to see what that was all about. Needless to say, they were not impressed with their Doc's breeding tactics. Doc One took a bullet between the eyes and they brought in Doc Two who was a big fan of artificial insemination." Everyone winces. "Pregnancies one and two didn't stick, so they tried pregnancy three with a sample they had in the freezer. I don't know who the father is, but HYDRA was really ecstatic when month three came along and the two of us were still in good health."

"And you're okay with keeping this baby?" Wanda softly asks.

"I kind of have to be. This baby," you say while gently touching your abdomen, "is half me and half someone else who I'm pretty sure is enhanced. Even if I thought adoption was an option, I don't think I could live with myself knowing a piece of me was somewhere out there."

Everyone takes a moment after your story sinks in, thinking about all that you've been while in HYDRA's control. Afterwards, Steve clears his throat. "So before anyone goes overboard with baby stuff, we're gonna have to put you in your own apartment." He smiles when he notices he catches you off guard with that. "No need to overflow Wanda's apartment with baby things when we have plenty of room to spread out still."

"A-Are you sure?" You ask. "I was ready to start looking elsewhere for a place to live, but-"

"No. HYDRA will be on the lookout for you and that baby," Wanda says. "You're staying here where they won't dare to infiltrate."

You glance at each present Avenger, taking in their pleasant expressions and sniffing them out for any hints of deceit. Finding none, you allow yourself to relax and grin. "Okay then. We'll stay here."

Cohabitating with the Avengers is nothing like you expected. Everyone's guard is down while at home and everyone likes spending time together in the communal spaces when there's not a mission for them to be worrying about. Sam especially gets a kick out of seeing how your appetite holds up against the two supersoldiers and he's impressed that you can eat the same amount or sometimes more.

And when the full moon is less than a week away, it's not just you who's worried about it.

Tony flies in when they notice you're quick to anger and they quickly clean out the hulk proof room that hasn't been used in quite some time. Steve and Wanda take charge, asking what would make you most comfortable, and you admit that anything with your scent on it will do. But what catches everyone off guard is that you sheepishly request something with their scent on it as well and you have to embarrassingly admit that it's a werewolf thing. With you spending so much time with them, you've kind of latched on and your wolf considers them yours.

Everyone is game to get you whatever you need and within half an hour they've got your bed set up in the room, and blankets and pillows from those you'd been living with these past couple of weeks. Everyone takes care to not annoy you the couple days leading up to the full moon, and then you're encouraged to go ahead and settle in the room the day you snarl at Tony for making a puppy joke.

Wanda sits in an armchair in the room as you sit against your headboard, talking about anything and everything as you practice some of Bruce's meditation tips. The door to the room is open for now, and every now and then you can hear someone pass by to quietly check in.

No one needs to tell you when the moon's reached its apex because you can feel the change within you. Your breathing becomes a little heavier and your fidgeting is no doubt more apparent. Sweat starts to bead along your hairline and you curl your fingers inward so as to not shred any of your bedding when you feel your claws suddenly elongate.

"Y/N..?"

"Wanda." You inhale deeply and slowly release it. "I think it's time you go."

You hear the armchair creak under Wanda's weight. "What? I can-"

"Go." You exhale deeply once more, slowly glancing up and eyes burning blue. "You need to go."

A growl slips free and then Steve's immediately in the doorway. "Wanda, come on."

Your gaze stays glued to Wanda as she cautiously stands and she smartly walks backwards to the door rather than giving you her back. And the second the door slides shut, you're leaping out of bed and pacing the entirety of the room. Your agitation ends up getting the best of you and you end up ripping your shirt off, thankful that you had been talked into wearing a sports bra underneath.

The walls are opaque, but the second a voice comes over an intercom you're whirling around to glare at the exact spot where everyone is congregated around screens and keeping watch over you. "Y/N, you need to calm down. Your heartbeat is way too fast."

You snarl and a fist flies towards the wall. There's a loud thump, but they put you in a hulk-proof room for a reason. No matter how much strength you have, you won't make a single crack in the glass.

As you pace all around the room, you growl and roar out your agitation.

Fortunately for you, you have a fair amount of control and you never resort to harming yourself. You do, however, tire of pacing and your bed looks all too welcoming. So once you deem it safe enough to let your guard down, you crawl into bed and surround yourself with the various pillows and blankets of your pack.

The following morning when you wake up, Doctor Cho whisks you away for an evaluation to make sure the full moon didn't affect the baby. And once you're given the all clear, Wanda and Sam lure you into the kitchen with a promise of a hearty breakfast.

You're more tired than usual, but you manage to perch on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, setting your elbow on the island top and setting your chin in the palm of your hand. Wanda starts to slice up some avocados when you notice there's an itch under your skin that's telling you you need to do something, but you aren't sure what. The feeling amps up as the time ticks on by, but before you can get up and start pacing in agitation there's an arm draping around your shoulders.

The familiar scent of Steve overwhelms you and you feel yourself automatically lean towards him. He chuckles. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I wanna snuggle the hell out of you," you mumble. Leaning away from him, you turn on your stool and part your knees, pulling Steve as close to you as possible. "Seriously, just hug me. I need to scent everyone again."

Sam snorts from his spot at the stove and Steve happily obliges you. Your arms wrap around his waist and you lay the side of your face against Steve's chest, a happy rumble slipping free as Steve embraces you back. "I don't know why you're laughing, Wilson. I'm cuddling all of you."

After about five minutes, you let Steve go and you readily drag Wanda into his vacant spot. She laughs, but hugs you back the moment your arms go around her. You shove your face into the side of her neck and you can't resist rubbing your cheek along her shoulders.

Sam ends up getting the same exact treatment right before breakfast is served up and since Natasha isn't really a hugger, she does sit next to you and allows you to at least drape one of your legs over hers underneath the table.

Afterwards, instead of heading back towards the apartment you share with Wanda, you eye Bucky who's sitting on the couch with a book in his right hand. And though he's been perfectly cordial with you since you've been brought in, you knew better than to just approach him out of the blue like you can with Wanda, Sam, and Steve.

Steve chuckles as he sees your hesitance, but he offers you no help in broaching the cuddling topic with his best friend. However, just as you enter Bucky's peripheral, he readily lifts his left arm that had been resting on the armrest. You sigh in relief and crawl in Bucky's lap, sitting sideways and laying your head on his shoulder. His metal arm curls around your back and his hand which he's holding the book settles down atop your knees.

You soak in Bucky's warmth and scent, and before you know it your eyelids get heavier and heavier.

The click of a phone's camera sounds and Bucky glances up to see Wanda pointing her phone at him. "What?" She feigns innocence. "It's adorable."

"She's exhausted," he says. "I'd fall asleep anywhere too if I had to go through what she did."

"I can take her if you want," Wanda says. "Float her on back to our apartment."

"No. It's fine," he's quick to assure her. "I wasn't planning on moving anytime soon anyway."

Wanda nods, hiding her grin as she walks towards the elevator where Steve and Sam are already waiting. Getting in, all three individuals smirk at Bucky cradling a sleeping pregnant werewolf in his lap.

"If she names that pup after Barnes, I'm throwing hands," Sam says.

Wanda laughs. "I don't think she's thinking about naming her child after a man she's only known for a couple of weeks, Sam."

"Well some would think that one would not sleep in the lap of someone they've only known for a couple of weeks, but here we are," Steve then says. "Unless it's a werewolf thing."

Wanda, Steve, and Sam take a moment to think about it before Sam says, "I got twenty that says those two end up hooking up before the baby bump makes itself known."

"What? No way." Wanda shakes her head. "I have twenty that says she's just extra cuddly because she's hormonal and just came down from the full moon."

"Guys," Steve admonishes them. A moment later, he grins. "Twenty says a real attraction grows and those two end up together."

"You're on, Rogers."

Author's Note: So you guys wanna give me baby name suggestions? And gender suggestions?