#which is a wonderful opportunity for them to bond over shared trauma
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capcom 'don't make leon and jill's dynamic in death island a romantic one' challenge
#srsly guys you're missing the untapped potential that is the picture of the guy running down the street yelling 'lets go lesbians'#except its leon with jill ashley and helena#resident evil#resident evil death island#leon kennedy#jill valentine#on a more serious note you could focus instead on the fact you have two raccoon city survivors meeting for the first time#which is a wonderful opportunity for them to bond over shared trauma#instead of deciding that the fact one is a guy one is a lady means that their dynamic has to be flirtatious#BUT this is largely off the rumors from early screenings that leon flirts with jill . who knows. maybe its not too heavy handed . ..
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You Are Eternal
✯ Read on AO3 ✯
Word Count: 1423
Rating: Teen
Summary: When devastating news that High Magistrate Karga has become one with the Force reaches Din in his cabin on Nevarro, he reflects on the complicated nature of their relationship. Din pays his own tribute to the man who witnessed firsthand his shift from bounty hunter to father.
Content Warnings: Major character death. Grief, mourning... I wrote this to try and cope a little with the awful news and it's just.... really sad.
Author's Note: I just had to get this out of me tonight. It was my way of coping I guess. I hope Greef lives on somehow in the show, I really do. But I think he was Din's first real friend and their arcs are so similar, it's so sad to think he won't be there anymore. Thank you for reading. RIP Carl, Mando will never be the same without you 💔
Din Djarin was, unfortunately, all-too accustomed to loss. The feeling of grief was not alien to him. Ever since that terrible day on Aq Vetina, when he had lost everything and everyone that he had ever loved, the fear of losing others seemed to loom large over his life, a constant uneasiness that had long clouded his interactions with others. That was, until he had been sent to Arvala-7 and encountered The Child, who he would eventually adopt as his own. It was a chain of events that would not have been possible were it not for the very man whose loss had struck him harder than any blow he had sustained in the profession that had once united them.
Despite how many times Din had undergone the mourning process throughout his life, he found that the news of one of his oldest acquaintances’ passing had hit him particularly hard. The rapping at the door, well after the sun had set on another bright and sunny Nevarrian day, took Din by surprise. But nothing could have prepared him for the message that had promptly been relayed to him. News that had been delivered by a copper-plated droid, of all things.
When he opened the door to his cabin on Nevaro, the last thing Din expected to hear was news that the High Magistrate had become one with the Force.
In those first few horrible moments after hearing such devastating news, Din found that the sensation resembled a punch to the area just underneath the shiny beskar plate that protected most of his chest and abdomen. Although Din was an extremely skilled fighter, he had occasionally been delivered such agonising blows in that incredibly vulnerable place. Now, Din was reminded of such agony as he processed the news.
Din’s relationship to Greef Karga had undoubtedly been complicated and at times, volatile. A former adversary, to an acquaintance, to possibly something even more… like a friend. Din Djarin did not typically have friends. But as he sat there in his cabin, processing the news after dismissing the droid and removing his helmet, he began to wonder whether, perhaps, he had had one… without even truly realising it.
A friend that had passed to the afterlife, before Din had the opportunity to comprehend how much Greef had truly meant to him.
Of course, there had been Paz. But Din was bound to Paz by Creed, as a fellow Mandalorian. There were no inherent bonds such as that with Greef. Instead, the former leader of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild on Nevarro had become increasingly close to Din. Greef had gradually become a trustworthy presence in an often cruel and treacherous galaxy.
Perhaps it was the shared trauma of the siege in the cantina, when Din and Greef had barely escaped with their lives, which had been the catalyst for their increasing closeness. Until then, Din had wondered whether he could fully trust the older man. After that, though, there was no doubt. Greef Karga was, at the very least, an ally.
All Din knew with any degree of certainty was that as soon as the Razor Crest needed repairs, when Din and Frog Lady had barely escaped with their lives on the frozen planet of Maldo Kreis, it was the coordinates for Nevarro that he had punched in. After being rendered an apostate for removing his helmet and violating the Creed, it was once again Nevarro that Din had journeyed to in order to secure a droid for his expedition to the Mines of Mandalore. On that very visit, when Grogu had been in danger thanks to the rogue IG unit, Din had not hesitated to thrust his son into the arms of Greef Karga, knowing that he would protect the little boy.
Back then, Din could never have foreseen himself settling on Nevarro. He had been so consumed with his quest for redemption that he had promptly rejected Greef’s offer for a tract of land by the lava flats. Yet after retaking Mandalore and adopting Grogu, the land had suddenly become an extremely attractive proposal. The little parcel of land had become the perfect place for Clan Mudhorn to rest between jobs for the New Republic. Din was eternally grateful for Greef’s offer.
It was true that Greef had done much for Din during the time that they had known each other, but it was equally true that when Nevarro had been under threat from the pirates headed by Gorian Shard, Din had not hesitated to raise a band of Mandalorians to follow him. There were few people in the galaxy that Din would have gone to such lengths for, but Greef Karga was undoubtedly one of them.
Not to mention the repurposed IG unit that Greef had given to Din, for Grogu to operate, despite Din's reservations. Although it had initially annoyed Din (and the stall holders of Nevarro) as it had given Grogu a way to verbalise his insolence and feed his insatiable appetite, it had been an invaluable aid during the retaking of Mandalore. An aid that would not have been there were it not for Greef. Both Din and Greef owed an enormous debt to each other.
The realisation of what a key figure Greef had been in Din Djarin’s recent history almost sent him tumbling to his knees. That Greef was the man who had perhaps witnessed more closely than any other the shift in Din from a lonely, selfish, bounty hunter with a strict adherence to the Creed, to a man who would do anything to ensure the safety of The Child, even if it meant violating the Way. That Greef was gone.
For a second, Din wanted to run from the cabin, screaming and sobbing, pleading that this could not possibly be true. That Greef would never realise how much he truly meant to Din. But he quickly came to his senses and soon sought solace elsewhere.
Din crept down the hall towards his son’s room, ensuring that in spite of his emotional state, he was as quiet as possible so Grogu was not awakened. He just wanted to be close to him, to feel his presence nearby, a comforting closeness to the special little boy who had changed everything for him. Din was relieved that Grogu was sleeping soundly, his shallow, even breaths continued even as his distraught father stood in the doorway.
Din feared how much the news would devastate the little boy who was currently sleeping soundly in his crib. Despite how much Din ached to hold him close as comfort for himself, he didn’t have the heart to wake Grogu. Although Din supposed, given the way that Grogu seemed to understand the galaxy around him, that perhaps somehow his son had already sensed the enormous loss of such a monumental presence. A loss that would surely leave a void incapable of being filled in all of their lives. Every sunset on Nevarro, a sight that had once left Din awestruck with its beauty and the vibrance of its colours, would surely seem a little darker from now on.
Din turned his back and left Grogu's room then, fearing that if he stood there for much longer, the tears that had begun to silently creep down his cheeks would develop into a more audible indication of his grief that would wake Grogu. Plus, Din had remembered a certain cupboard in the kitchen, the contents of which would provide a fitting tribute to the High Magistrate.
He had hoped that one day, he might invite Greef to the cabin for the advised smaller gathering to share this luxurious libation with him. Perhaps even face-to-face, without his helmet, such was the increasing number of ways that Din had discovered there were to walk; ways to be Mandalorian.
That would never happen now, Din realised with a pang of sadness as he stepped out onto the porch and into the moonless Nevarrian night. He placed two glasses onto the table by the bench and slowly poured the amber liquid.
Then Din sat back on the bench, and raised a glass of the Coruscant wine to the stars, in a toast to his old friend. He spoke the sacred words of the ancient language of their people, a daily remembrance that he would now carry out for the man who, despite everything, had become his friend.
“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Greef Karga.”
(I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.)
#my fics#din djarin#greef karga#the mandalorian#din djarin fanfic#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfiction#i really had to get this out of me ugh love when writing makes you cry onto your keyboard!!!!
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Dhamari's 'Significant Four'
My brain decided to go off on an interesting little tangent about Dhamari and his dynamic with certain companions, namely the ones who have had the greatest impact on his character and story. Not entirely sure where this angle of analysis came from, but hey - it works!
Astarion is associated with Dhamari’s body. Which is ironic, in a way, because Dhamari spends a long time being deeply uncomfortable whenever Astarion gets too close. But it’s also helpful, because it gives Dhamari the opportunity to set firm physical boundaries in a way he hasn’t done before - either because he’s always kept himself far enough away that it didn’t matter, or because he didn’t have agency, and he simply couldn’t. It’s hard to say they ever like each other much, but they come to respect each other through this slow, mutual exercise in establishing boundaries and consent. And like Dhamari, Astarion knows experiences of deep physical trauma. It’s something they understand about each other, and it’s something Dhamari eventually finds himself able to share with Astarion, when he feels that nobody else in the party truly comprehends what he’s gone through.
Jaheira is associated with Dhamari’s mind. Dhamari is often not the brightest bulb, and rarely overthinks things, preferring instinctive action over consideration. But Jaheira has the ability to condense complex moral concepts down to simple terms, and actually makes Dhamari stop and think for a change. She challenges him to consider his choices, what he’s doing and why; to look at the big picture in a way that’s unmuddied with too many details. Jaheira, like Dhamari, is a stubborn survivor, and yet she offers him a view that is about more than just survival. She helps him understand that like it or not, he will leave a mark on the world, and it’s up to him to decide what sort of mark it will be.
Wyll is associated with Dhamari’s heart. (And you’re thinking ‘wait, shouldn’t it be Gale??’ But nope. It’s Wyll.) It’s Wyll who shows Dhamari the importance of selflessness and compassion, concepts to which Dhamari has had very little exposure as a drow. It's Wyll who shows him that not everyone has to stay an enemy, even if they start out as one. And it’s through Wyll that Dhamari learns to care about people other than himself, and to strive to do the right thing - as he sees it, anyway - even when it’s against seemingly insurmountable odds. To have courage, and to take a stand for what he believes in, because if he won’t, then who Wyll will?
And finally, Gale is associated with Dhamari’s soul. Their bond is about transcendence, about intimacy beyond the physical realm, and about moving past the limitations that once chained them. Both of them are beings of magic - together they learn how to bond through the sharing of it, but they also unlearn the idea that their magic is the entirety of their worth. Gale shows Dhamari the freedom that comes with letting go of his wards and his walls, the wonder and delight of allowing someone to actually, truly know him. And this is why Gale’s astral motif is so apt for their relationship, because Dhamari, too, finds both comfort and ecstasy in the expanse of the night sky - vast and unconfined, where he can forget he is a physical creature and just be the storm of magic that is his soul.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 companions#bg3 tav#astarion#jaheira#wyll ravengard#gale dekarios#bg3 oc#bg3:dhamari#kem oc#kem rambles#kem does bg3#otp: woven in the storm#excuse me while i roll around in feelings now
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New Mutants vol. 4 #18 – Homecoming
The imperative of a mutant community
Vita Ayala (Writer), Rod Reis (Artist), Travis Lanham (Letterer)
Let’s begin with first principles.
The two foundational, definitional characteristics of the New Mutants are the closeness of their bonds, lines between platonic and romantic almost permanently blurred, and their trauma, both individual and shared. The New Mutants’ mission on Krakoa, explored so beautifully in this issue, is to foster a community strong enough that it can guide and support each of its individuals to unburden themselves of the trauma of the past and flourish in the future.
The New Mutants begin their utopian journey in this fashion by creating a support system for younger mutants, no longer constrained by human frameworks and ideologies. This is symbolised by their new home the Sextant, which is itself a metaphor for charting a new course towards a future with limitless possibilities. When Vita Ayala takes over writing responsibilities from Jonathan Hickman from issue 13, they more closely interrogate how this idealism plays out in practice. As the shadow of the past begins to encroach on the Akademos Habitat in the form of Amahl Farouk, the young students are attracted to the allure of easy solutions to their problems. The teachers also perceive Krakoa as an opportunity to release the trauma they’ve held onto for many years but know that this victory must be hard fought. Enter Dani Moonstar aka Mirage to guide them through.
After Magik becomes a War Captain and de facto combat leader of the team, Dani remains the team’s spiritual and emotional leader, as well as the lead educator for the Lost Club, the island’s youngest mutants. While Mirage doesn’t have a story dedicated to her throughout the run, she remains active rather than passive, supporting the team through the period of introspection and reflection that the safety of Krakoa has afforded them.
Ayala uses Mirage to great effect throughout their run, using her innate skill of empathy to de-emphasis the distinction between individual and shared trauma. Ayala’s approach to this feels so realistic, as Dani does not always get this right, avoiding a trap that writers fall into with the character being so morally upstanding that her judgement is beyond reproach. While issue #18 is a wonderful testament to Dani’s strength as a leader and the nature of her bond with Karma, there’s only so much that a community leader can do for her people without wider structural support. Wolfsbane and Cosmar are examples of attentions become spread too thinly, which is a catalyst for calamity and guilt that later issues must resolve. All of Dani’s attention is on Karma’s battle to reclaim her identity by separating her from her ‘evil’ brother Tran, who she has stored in her soul for almost her entire life to protect the world around her. In a society that promises amnesty and support for its former villains, New Mutants #18 examines the precarious moral balance of self-actualisation and community protection through one of the Krakoa era’s most controversial plot devices: the Crucible.
The healing rock
The issue begins with Karma and Mirage sat on a rock by a waterfall, hands held in meditation as Dani facilitates a conversation between Xuân and Tran on the astral plane. This is the same rock that Karma finds Wolfsbane sat on in the opening scene to issue 1 and offers her guidance about capitalising on the potential of her rebirth and finding new purpose. It is a space that symbolises the spiritual connections between the team, and the importance of quiet introspection as a way of resolving problems and challenges. It’s representative of Ayala’s approach to the series, which is to buck the superhero comic trend and resolve issues through philosophical debate rather than physical conflict. That’s not to say that action isn’t core to this issue because it is, but the resolution to the problem is arrived at here on this rock which then plays out in the crucible itself.
Rod Reis’ use of pastel tones and inking to differentiate between the corporal and astral figures and between past and present tense is both economical and visually stunning. The washed out tone clearly demarcates the past tense, while the flare ups of Karma’s pink power signature emphasises Karma’s intense frustration and despair at the lack of success of previous attempts to separate her from her brother. Floating ink lines resembling restraints circle Tran’s body loosely throughout the scene, suggesting Xuân’s reluctance to incarcerate him. At the scene’s conclusion, the inks have become thinner, symbolising the loosening of the bonds and his imminent freedom.
“Tôi đã có bạn - I’ve Got You”
So why is the ritual of the Crucible so crucial to Karma’s story? First of all, it demands conviction. It demands that Xuân reckon with the conundrum of whether her full spiritual independence is worth the risk her brother poses to the community around her. And yes, it demands brutality because the foundational principle of the Crucible is rooted in violence, the premise that paradise should never come easily, even to those who deserve it, because it is simply worth so much.
In the Crucible scenes, Ayala and Reis combine to great effect to simultaneously create a violent intensity and gentle intimacy to the fight. The pacing ebbs and flows as Xuân’s creeping doubts are answered with Dani’s violence before the scene breaks away for Karma to “waver here, in this moment between breathes” as her memories of Tran as an innocent child and as a damaged man as the narrative caption boxes pose the question “who is Tran?”. The fluid, sketched panelling gives way to thick bordering on the bottom panel of the page as the reader sees Karma, sword in hand, resolved in her decision: ultimately, it is not for her to choose. Tran must be given the grace to find his own path.
The scene then ramps up to a frenetic yet almost silent crescendo as Dani stabs her with an arrow. Throughout this scene, when the narrative is from the two central figures’ perspectives, the background is dark pink, symbolising Karma’s internality, while everyone else is faded out. It’s just the two of them together, dancing to a song of violence written with pure love. The issue’s closing scene is a moving testament to the love between them, with Karma flirting with Dani as they stare into each other’s eyes in a way that brings us back to first principles: friendship and romance are fluid among the New Mutants, but what is clear is their deep affection for one another.
Other than the potential romantic elements, Ayala’s decision to have Dani be Xuân’s partner is a smart one in that Dani is probably the most self-actualised of the New Mutants. In the original New Mutants series, she was the first to lose her powers, the first to succumb to her trauma in the form of the Demon Bear and therefore the first to be saved by the found family around her. The passing on of care from one community to member to another is contrasted in later issues where the New Mutants talk to the Shadow King about breaking the cycle of trauma and replacing it with something more productive. By separating herself from the pain of her past, symbolised by the influence of her brother, she finally has complete autonomy: freedom to be who she wants but also to pay the kindness forward to others, which she is able to do with Cosmar in a later issue.
So when Karma is resurrected with her prosthetic leg still in place, accompanied by the narrative caption box of “Welcome Home”, the message is loud and clear: mutant paradise is being the version of yourself that you most love and identify with, and the Crucible is the hard road to travel to get there.
The Lost Club
What is striking on a re-read is how much of this issue is dedicated to the Lost Club and the debate between Gabby Kinney and Cosmar about the efficacy of the Shadow King’s promise to restore the mutants to their idealised self. The scenes are very dialogue heavy, which weigh down the issue slightly, but they are important and completely on theme.
The Lost Club, and Cosmar in particular, present an alternative viewpoint on the theme of self-acceptance. If Karma’s decision to resurrect herself with her prosthesis still in place is a strong message of rejecting disability as something to be fixed, Cosmar’s experience is perhaps an allegory for body dysmorphia or more specifically gender dysphoria. The pop philosophy of self-acceptance generally argues that a person should accept themselves for who they are, which implies a rigidity of identity shaped by a patriarchal view of gender. The point that the children with visible mutations like Cosmar, Anole and Rain Boy make to Gabby is that what if what you see in the mirror prevents you from expressing who you are? How can one accept a version of oneself that is false?
Ayala is challenging a generally held belief in X-Men continuity, perpetuated by the Krakoa era, that possessing a mutant power is necessarily a gift. In the past this notion has generally been challenged by mutants whose powers are destructive, like Rogue or an even more extreme case like Glow Worm, but this comic explicitly is not interested in that. This is about the person behind the powers, and not just whether or not they look “different” from others. This comic is interrogating ways in which people look different from how they perceive themselves, and in that way is an interesting examination of body dysmorphia at the very least.
So while the Crucible scene is a beautiful example of how a community can support the individual, the Lost Club plot is about what happens when a community fails its citizens. The Shadow King, although characterised fairly sympathetically in this run, represents the systems that exploit those left vulnerable by lack of community care. Without spoiling what happens in future issues the seeds of this plot’s central argument are laid here: while they don’t always get it right, the New Mutants have their fellow citizens best interests at heart, and are a positive example of an inclusive and accepting community.
However, the point made by Magik in her letter to the Quiet Council gets to the root of the issue: local communities need the support of central government to best serve its citizens. In an economic and political climate in which vital funding and protective legislation for communities and their vulnerable citizens are being gutted to fund genocide and war, the idealism of Krakoa was always fated to be just another utopia.
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Hi! I don't know if you take any requests for fics, but i was wondering if you could make one where the pack boys and the mates aknowledge the circumstances of Sam's turning and they all become istantly protective over him and show him solidarity.
Anyway your blog is amazing!
Hi, @phoenixrocks! Thanks so much for reaching out! I recognize your username from my notes. :)
I'm always open to hear requests and suggestions. Sometimes I'll even solicit requests from prompt lists or open calls. I haven't done that in awhile because I'm currently working on a long fic and I tend to prefer working on one W.I.P. at a time. I really like your idea of the pack being protective over Sam and the trauma his turning imparted upon him. Nonconsensual turnings, essentially forcing someone into a clan as well as the vampiric lifestyle... It must seem like such a violation to shifters, given how they form packs based on trust and familial bonds.
It's difficult for me to imagine a scenario where the pack and mates all learn about Sam's turning at once. Sam strikes me as a pretty private guy. I don't know if I see him disclosing that detail of his life to everyone on the spot. The only scenario I could see that happening would be someone either accidently or intentionally talking about Sam’s turning in front of the pack, and I would hate to think that Sam wouldn't get to access the agency he deserves to choose when, how, and to whom he talks regarding his turning. I think it would be a much more gradual thing, where maybe he talks about it to a trusted friend in the pack first during a moment of privacy. (My impulse would be to nominate Asher for that role. He is a such a compassionate fellow. Best beta boi. Who do you think Sam would choose to confide in first?) Then maybe David. Perhaps Angel intuitively realizes something is up with Sam based on how he avoids the subject, which leads them to check in with Sam, prompting him to share with them. And so on.
I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't think I can construct a oneshot that exactly fills your request. But I am really glad you shared this thought with me! (Protective pack is always a wonderful concept. The pack protective over Sam as one of their own? Yes, please!) As long as you don't mind, I'll try to work in a nod or two to the pack supporting/protecting Sam if I can find a way to mention the circumstances of his turning in my current W.I.P.! (When it's posted, I'll credit that idea to you in the notes of the fic.) A heads up that it'll be quite awhile before that story is ready to be posted. (I'm a slow writer and lately, a lot of my fics have been erring on the longer side.) Since it features the wolf pack and mates attending a charity gala that Sam helped organize, it seems like there's ample opportunity for that sort of dynamic.
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drell diaspora meta <3
as told by me! a mixed diasporic chindo (chinese-indonesian) :)
preface: bioware failed to flesh out Drell culture and heritage to my satisfaction so I wrote this meta for both my personal reference and because I wanted to represent Thane and Drell as people who suffer from a history that invokes parallels between real world colonization/imperialism, as well as portray his personal conflict with this accurately because it's very painful and I think gets naturally overlooked by people who lack this background!
Contents:
The Family Unit
Food
Music
Customs
Hanar Intervention (honestly read this bc I think it's the most important section!!)
1. The Family Unit
Size: They're small by necessity: as in there is no room on Kahje to support. This is a bit of a complicated topic. Drell families are likely to lose their children to the Compact giving them incentive to have more than one or two but it’s probably very expensive to provide for them. I can see a lot of cultural tension here. There are pressures in either direction. There's a lot of sadness too. It makes every child extremely precious.
Values: Independence is an important quality-- but not to a fault! Because family units can be taken apart at any time, being able to take care of yourself is a survival skill. In addition, spiritedness is a closely held value-- To make up for the loss of large family trees and ability to be in close quarters (due to the constant coming and going of family members) it becomes very important to showcase your passion-- whether to each other or about any matter of things in life. Overall, spiritedness is most important! caring and wanting to improve upon yourself as well as self-discipline and hard work.
A.N: Probably because, as evidenced by Thane’s dialogue, they've come to view what happened on Rakhana as like, self-inflicted or weak of spirit ( :( this has me extremely messed up. The whole situation is based on Colonialist propaganda honestly so this conflict to me is so personal and painful to watch in real-time because you can see it very plainly in Thane and you can tell he carries that generational trauma)
Carrying on: The ability to be vulnerable is not as important as the ability to show that you care, which can come from action or words, but usually, this means vulnerability and passion go hand in hand.
Finally, homecoming is very important. Everyone is so scattered all over the galaxy, time together is time that counts. Bonding circles (An old tradition) have become “Bonds,” a colloquial name for annual family gatherings.
Read on Under The Cut <3
2. Food
Drell are born with a full set of teeth but they can’t be that tough yet. There must be specific dishes for each age to celebrate. That means as they age, softer meats-> harder foods are part of a traditional practice to track development! (Age 1 Birthday Food: Beetle Based Dish, so on till age 16/17)
Rakhana Diet: I also think that on Rakhana insects would have been popular! Because it’s an arid world and it would have been a very nutritious and accessible source of protein. It also strikes me that their recipes may have been very paste-based because it’s an easy way to flavor things when food is scarce! Also, paste flavoring like sambal (spicy chili). Other Foods:
Eggs? Eggs. It’s just a lizard thing but also! Really simple and easy to make.
Desert fruit! Water-based fruits that are similar to cantaloupe and citrusy things like calamansi.
On Kahje: Their diet must have to shift, so lucky they’re omnivorous.
Probably fish. Likely the main source of protein there.
This is off topic but I think that eating kelp runs as a joke for Drell on Kahje because of the similarities between their colors and striping. I don’t know what kind of joke. But I wonder if Drell teens will order fried kelp and point at each other like “cannibal”
Sauce…………. Dark sauces…...
You can tell the difference between a Kahje Drell and a Rakhana Drell (If they are still in existence? Most likely but very hard to find) based on their fish opinions
Raw fish consumption is normal on Kahje but Drell are not technically “built” for that diet so they may get sick with overconsumption! It must be well cooked to avoid illness.
3. Music
There's a natural inclination to communicate verbally due to their distinct biology.
Drell anatomy (throat) allows for unique sounds and trills
Highly present in language and utilized in music (On Rhakana there were probably dialects that incorporated certain clicks and trills as part of the “alphabet” just like irl, but I imagine those that can still speak it are very limited and it must be passed down or retaught through preservation efforts)
Rhythmic dance and music to tell stories and legends! Especially of great creatures that transcended into infamy. Like a big old serpent that through storytelling became a mythical dragon type of thing.
Clothing/Robes, loose-fitting and comfortable to work in Arid environments and allow for movement (tight ass clothes not the norm ashdjfk esp for dancing, Thane’s just a career man who thinks he looks good and he lived on Kahje so--)
4. Customs
The Pursuit of Life a.k.a Perah (I made this term up)
It's a cultural value centered around making the most of life through boldness. Seizing the moment because not every Drell gets the opportunity to call their life their own— this is in reference to both the compact and the death of Rakhana. Therefore if you ARE lucky enough to have ownership over your own life, you must not squander it. There are a number of purposeful benefits to Perah, such as:
Leading Drell off of Kahje (avoiding Kepral’s)
Giving Drell an “Adventurous” reputation due to far journeying and mixed work
A lot of Drell are able to form community ties outside of the home due to this norm! Because a lot of them have long and wide and journeys across the galaxy to share with each other and cultural commonality, they have an immediate kinship with each Drell they meet.
Puppetry/Masks
The Drell face is shaped like a mask so it only makes me think there must be culture-specific dances or plays utilizing masks in order to tell traditional stories and celebrate moments of life
There seems to be a lot of reverence and appreciation for the different and diverse, including animals and other species, leading me to believe that there are masks based on different creatures!
5. Hanar Intervention
Loss of Population: Effects
Destruction of the family unit, disjointed/fractured because of the Compact and limited living space on Kahje
Death of Rakhana leaving entire generations and specific regions behind, permanent severing between sects of Drell society
That means the inability to read certain texts as well as languages dying off between generations.
The disappearance of traditions, including many religions
Loss of understanding of Drell language and terminology
A.N: Thane is a rare case with access to high reading material and close ties to “hidden” communities/pockets of people; Most Drell do not know the meaning of Siha due to Hanar assimilating via Enkindlers
Most also do not know about traditional religion! I imagine these pockets must be so small. Thane probably had to work very hard to recover this knowledge which goes to show his complex relationship with his heritage.
It’s likely that there are factions of Drell who attempt to preserve and celebrate their culture despite being uprooted.
Possible rebellions/isolationists who reject the Compact which has mixed reactions by the majority of Drell community, not limited to shunning and disownment (:/ bc these things are sadly complicated)
A.N: Thane comments that it's an honor to fulfill the compact, which naturally implies it's shame to reject it. Let your imagination on the consequences of that rejection sink in.
A misconception is that Drell like to adopt whatever culture they live in but it's more like most of them lack the access to return and reclaim their own roots or have been shamed out of it
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sometimes i stop and think yeah i think well see misha collins in celebrity drag race in our lifetime yet...but then i also think god i WISH we could see jensen ackles in celebrity drag race in our lifetime. quick which queen do you think would match each of them i would die if misha just straight up was katyas drag daughter. normal thoughts but drag and reality tv really should call his attention a bit more
first of all. this is my favourite ask i’ve ever gotten the combination of spn and rpdr brainworms in my head are having an absolute blast. i wonder if you sent me this because you saw this post from me back in march
if not then i guess we really are all connected in the dragonfly eye of shared perception or whatever endverse cas said
misha being on celebrity drag race simply makes sense with my fantasy because:
the whole concept of the celebrity version is the winner winning money for a charity of their choice which is obviously very much up his alley
his willingness to wear dresses unprompted (my third eye is open i can see the grocery store wedding dress pictures they would for sure use on rpdr)
this is the perfect opportunity for him to just casually drop that he’s bisexual and not elaborate on it AT ALL (oh that would be a fun day on tumblr i almost want to start that meme folder now just in case)
okay so top five queens to get paired with misha:
now the thing to consider here is that misha’s face would not be (in my unprofessional and uneducated opinion) easy to paint (as opposed to virginal and untouched male model jackles) but it’s a well known fact that the queens paired with the contestants on celebrity drag race don’t actually paint whoever they are paired with *gasp* or at least not fully (see: shannel, laila and mayhem doing the makeup behind the scenes instead of bob, monet and trixie) so i will not think about that aspect too much, this is more about their personalities
5. nina west!! activist4activist i simply think they would vibe (a video of corbett from ghostfacers and nina west)
4. gottmik - i just made myself tear up thinking about a brighter timeline where they can talk about cas canonically being a trans man on the show…… and the makeup would be flawless
drag race anon agayn OH MY GODDD miz cracker oh oh oh
3. miz cracker! exactly exactly i was thinking the same thing, and we know she’s good at a transformation too! see s10 family resemblance challenge:
also this made me think about this post no relation to the topic just miz cracker on back-to-back chef → miz cracker misha makeover → misha on back-to-back chef
2. bob the drag queen YES! i think they could win a comedy challenge ooohh or snatch game!!
for misha my dream match IS ofc katya i think shed be able to radicalize him and the makeover would be CRAZY cat lady like which would fit him.
1. you said it!! Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova and Miss Dima aaaaaoooooohhh the energy of this pairing has me HOOTING AND HOLLERING they could bond about both of them being russian (or at least russian adjacent) and being from boston first then they realise they are both actual insane people and win the competition
insane tidbit for the astrology gays: misha’s birthday is just three days away from trixie’s so the zodiac bestie compatibility checks out too! (after i wrote this i realised that it does not in fact check out bc those three days are on the cusp of leo and virgo season so they are different signs But their birthdays are still three days apart which is cool so i’m leaving this in)
(also they could bond over the trauma of pe- people sh- people shipping them with their best friends😭)
and now for jackles:
who would he be paired with? now the thing is. while i want misha to do well on a comedy challenge, if jackles was paired with a comedy queen they would break him. the only thing i want is for someone to do an impeccable makeup look on him full beat pageant queen, i think he has the perfect facial structure to pull it off
and it would have to be a singing challenge of course
first choice is obviously alyssa edwards i have been thinking about this for months, not to gunshot truth *insert alyssa as annie oakley gif* but if jackles interacted with alyssa he would come out….. 😶
i just think he would do best paired with a texas queen, hence my other top choice for him is asia o’hara (his drag name could be jenny o’hara🥺)
jackles in this outfit please please please hello you’re everything
but then i also think about him being painted by fame™️ OR valentina and i need to take a few minutes to lie down and process
#WHEW this is me making up for my lost time in the drag race fandom#(six months to be exact… guess what happened six months ago that took over all my interests)#i had to get up and run around my room like a headless chicken SEVERAL times while answering this#ask#long post
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My progression with Snape is an odd yet insightful one that really opens the eyes and reflects the Harry Potter fandom. I wonder how many entered the fandom in similar ways?
I got majorly into HP when I was about 14 (2013) and, of course, got into the online communities. I wasn't heavily involved (with the online spaces) but became pretty intensely in love with Wolfstar which, in turn, bought me to the main marauder side of the fandom. Along with that came all of the Anti Snape posts you commonly see floating around.
And, of course, like an impressionable 14 year old, I regurgitated all of those posts I saw and spewed all the hateful words an angry traumatised 14 year old has. To the point I ended up passively bullying someone in my maths class/friend group every lesson we had together for loving Snape/Alan Rickman. (Just an edit, we're fine now! Bonded over our love for cats and my stinky cat named Severus)
It wasn't until I was about 16 when I finally broke that spell and realised 'hey, I don't need to be a fucking asshole all the time, and hating things isn't a personality trait ' I decided that maybe I should do a bit of digging into Snape for myself?
When you exist in the HP fandom as only a lurker, you're very quickly conditioned to frown upon 'Snovers' and SnApE DiD nOThInG WrOnG type people of the fandom. The moment you see Snape as anything other than the greasy hateful persona he puts on in the books, you're bullied and casted out from the mainstream fandom. The irony being he is a grey character but viewing him as anything but morally black, you'll be an outcast as quick as you can say SnaPeS aN iNcEl.
Which made it really fucking hard to explore this character A T A L L !
Anyway, when i finally snapped and decided that following the herd was stupid, I skipped off to tumblr (there's only so much wiki can give you,) to investigate Snape and what all the fuss was about. I actually started to roleplay him at the time on an old rp forum, using this opportunity to really deep dive. I figured if I could roleplay as him and not fall in love, then he truly was evil.
I fell down a fucking rabbit hole.
A rabbit hole of shared experiences of trauma, poverty, unfit parents, and school bullies. I fell down the rabbit hole into the world of a man i could truly and utterly relate too. Which made it hard, so fucking hard, to sit there and hate him. And in turn, I started to question, maybe I'm just as awful as him? And do I deserve to meet the same hate as Snape?
Needless to say, the moment you start to view Snape as the beautifully complex rainbow of tones across the grey spectrum, many spaces within the fandom become utterly horrendous to exist in.
I havent been able to enjoy Wolfstar or anything Remus Lupin related in... ages because those parts of the fandom have become unsafe to exist in as someone who appreciates both of these deeply traumatised and flawed characters.
I love the Snapedom because they're inclusive, even when their very own fandom has excluded them.
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Feel free to ignore this ask if its too personal! But I just read your ask on whether the show properly represents Ian's BD, and I agree with a lot of your points, especially based on my own personal experience, that when they decided to address it and work with it, they seem to do a good job, but they only really focus on it for individual eps instead of it being a constant part of his story. But that does make me wonder, what's your opinion on Ian in s8? because he's spiraling even from ep 1, like weather-wise it seems like s8 take place in the spring, maybe like April/mayish, which is only a few months after losing Mickey, and his mother, who is the only person who he feels would understand his disorder. And he doesn't get any real support from his family, they just act like he should move on from it. It definitely continues the trend of ian looking for external love and validation and comfort to make him feel better, like with how he jumped from trying to get comfort from Trevor to from trying to get comfort from helping the kids. But I also feel like that's a storyline where they really dropped the ball trying to portray BD because they seem to think it's funny that he's manic? Like the scene where he essentially prostitutes himself for the shelter, it seems like we're supposed to think its funny when it's just another example of him having sexual trauma and thinking of his body as the only thing that makes him worthwhile? idk, I was just wondering what your take on that was, i always really love reading your thoughts <3
hey there! thanks for this ask. i have to be honest - i am bad at meta. but that doesn't mean i won't charge right into it with unearned confidence anyways! i have.... so much to say about s8 ian. i said quite a bit about it in this post that discusses ian's manic episode and where he might have gone off his meds since the show chose not to tell us fuckin anything about his illness and kinda just made him seem like an asshole for several straight episodes sdfhaosdj
but! you bring up lots of things i have not discussed much - and i am excited to do so now! thank u 😌 as always, i invite anyone to chime in!
so i'm just gonna respond to the really insightful points you bring up - if anyone has other thoughts, please do add on/ comment or message me!
you're right that it kinda seems like ian's disorder is not as integrated in his story as it could be after s6. they bring it up just often enough (7x03, 10x09) to be like hey! look, we didn't forget about this! s8.... it's like they wrote themselves into a corner with him and then went "oh!! we can make him manic!!!!"
i'm not saying he needs to be flying off the handle all the time or anything, but stable does not necessarily mean a total absence of symptoms. i don't really know what it would look like to include it more thoroughly in the show - maybe someone cleverer than i can comment on this? - as i wouldn't want him to be reduced to a walking mental disorder, but i'd appreciate just some signs that it's still there, y'know? i think cam worked that in a bit in where he could? but it's just noticeably absent once it's not relevant to the plot (imo).
i think there's a shift from his struggle in 8x01-8x03 to what starts after 8x04. in those first three episodes, he's absolutely hurting after losing monica and (more privately) mickey. he's agitated and grieving, and i think this is the trigger for the episode that really starts manifesting in 8x04 and beyond.
i think it's fascinating that you bring up monica being the only one to really understand his disorder, bc really, that's true. she was the only one in his life who understood what it felt like. the others educated themselves and sympathized, but they couldn't know. i absolutely grieve for that lost opportunity - the chance for them to really bond over it, share their experiences and struggles. she could have been such a resource for him. still, he knows she 'gets it' at her core, and it unites them in whatever way it can. but when she calls him at the end of s7, she's listed as 'do not answer' or something like that, and he is hesitant to see her. he loves her, but he's terrified of her. he resents her, despite his pull to her. so losing her like that, with their last encounter being so unpleasant... there's just no closure.
the others had somewhat happier moments with her before she died (save for carl). they got just a few more moments with her. and they didn't even feel for her the way ian did. so after she dies, it's over for them. they all take 7x12 to reflect and come to some kind of peace. i don't think it ever really occurred to them that the grief and loss would stretch beyond the immediate aftermath of her death. so when ian is still struggling months later, it just doesn't compute. fiona is straight up surprised to hear that ian is upset about it. carl cannot fathom why ian doesn't want to get rid of her stuff. so no, he doesn't get much support in those episodes, bc his sibling genuinely cannot empathize (no slight to them! they had complicated relationships with their mom) - fiona has a lovely moment with him in that hot tub, but there's not much sustained support.
but the trend with him looking for external love - yeah. it's just incredibly sad to watch him blindly reach for purpose and validation. he really should have let trevor go, but he's clinging to some sense of normalcy and comfort. and this is why the idea of helping the kids, and how it evolves into his religious mission, makes sense to me, even if i don't think it's written very well. he's always had this righteous vision for himself, and he kinda throws himself into it here. i just..... it could have been so powerful. instead, it's just like each episode happens without any real cohesion? we are watching ian act without any real understanding of his motivations - other than what we already know about him.
and it's just... it's not totally clear that he is manic until the storyline hits its peak. i did my best in that other meta post to decipher how it happens and where his symptoms are, but you could also just say "wow, ian's kind of a dick this season" and it would also make sense. i remember watching it for the first time and being like... i think i know where this is going? but i can't tell??? and i'm all for suspense, but to me it just felt lazy and muddled.
but yes, it's not treated the same as his s4/s5 episodes. or even that hypo moment in 7x03. we don't see how ian is feeling or thinking, we just see him doing. the narrative style of the show has fully flipped at this point. shameless was always outlandish in their storylines, but this.... it's so cartoonish. it's like he's not just manic, he's a caricature of manic ian. the way it's presented as another wacky shameless storyline - yikes. i don't think every instance of his disorder has to be WEIGHTY and DRAMATIC... but if it's gonna end with him in fucking jail and losing his job.... yeah. the storytelling needs to feel worth that suffering. and it's just? not? at all?????
the way he sleeps with that couple aisdjsdjfhahhhh! that could have been SUCH an important turning point in this season's arc. like the first sight of him in that club in s4, or the porn in s5... this could have been a crucial moment for understanding his headspace and we just don't get it. it would have been so easy to thread his episodes together and! they don't!!! there is much to connect between his previous grooming, manic s4/s5 ian, and manic s8 ian but it just doesn't happen! so we have NO CLUE where his head is.
basically most of s8 (and the start of s9 with him in jail WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?) is a huge disservice to ian's disorder and his character. ALSO - s9 where he's still waiting for shim? and lip and fiona are like wtf? THAT COULD HAVE BEEN SOMETHING. he's still recovering from his episode and CLEARLY symptoms are lingering........ and they didn't!!! talk about it!!!!!!!!!!! WHY!!!!!!!! they missed so much of his s8 episode, this could have been such an opportunity for them to talk! and i know the siblings very much had their own shit going on, but for them to so blatantly miss his mania (no matter how terribly it was written) does not make sense to me.
anyways this has gotten too long and once again i am telling myself to please shut up oh my goddddddd! i could go on all day but i think this is enough 😌 ty for this discussion and please feel free (any of you!) to add on to this or drop by my inbox!
ian is hanging out in his garden right now. the sun is shining, and he and mickey are sitting in the dirt and smelling the earth. just in case anyone needs a palate cleanser after reading this. did anyone read this? blink twice if you need help.
#sorry this took longer than i intended!#i wound up going back to watch a couple episodes so i could answer properly#ty for this ask! i think people shy away from this arc#but i think i'd like to face it head on a bit more now#i used to just ignore it bc i hated it so much#but i appreciate this conversation ty anon#mental illness tw#mania tw#death tw#grief tw
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Soulmates: Chapter Six
Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate when you’re about to meet them. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.
Word Count: 4.3k
Warnings: Swearing, as usual. Drinking. Nightmares mention violence.
Note: Figured we needed a slightly fluffy chapter before we meet Gemini (;
Bold for Natasha. Italic and Underline for Y/N.
All Writings Masterlist
*gifs not mine
Previously
After Y/N and Bucky finished their shower together and got dressed, they walked out into the kitchen where Sam and Natasha were sitting. Sam had a scowl on his face towards Bucky, “Man, my room is right next to yours. And the shower echoes.” He hissed out.
Y/N laughs a little and rolls her eyes before Bucky could speak, “Hey, I was ready to go in the med-bay. At least we made it to the shower so everybody didn’t get a show.” She snapped back with a smile as Natasha started dying in laughter.
Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, sneaking his arm around Y/N’s waist and pulling her closer as he kissed her temple softly. Now, Y/N was his and he wasn’t going to let her go. Their bodies were like one, each other could feel everything the other felt physically and mentally. Bucky got what he always wanted, a deeper connection with someone and nobody was more perfect for him than Y/N. For once he found himself thanking the world and all the things it had done to him just to lead him to Y/N.
Chapter six -
It had been weeks since Y/N had finally given into her soulmate bond with Bucky. There had been no new information on Gemini so they had just been enjoying their time together. They were inseparable. Bucky seemed to constantly be orbiting Y/N like he was her sun, which in a way she was. They would train together, eat together, even moved into one of the apartment suites instead of just Bucky’s bedroom due to Sam complaining about how noisy they were. Anytime Bucky wasn’t around her and he found her, he would push her up against a wall or a counter and kiss her like he hadn’t seen her in years.
Y/N released a part of Bucky that nobody had seen before, not even Steve. Sure, he had known Bucky to be a ladies man in the forties as well as a confident, cocky flirt. But it was like a switch had flipped in Bucky due to having Y/N as a soulmate. He was more social to the other team members, came around more which Steve appreciated. Though, there were other things that had Steve concerned. Y/N had brought out a wild side in Bucky. She had him wrapped around her finger and that concerned Steve. Natasha had spent so much time telling him that Y/N was not to be trusted, but that was before the two had made up and it still made Steve feel uneasy. The last thing he wanted to happen was for Bucky to somehow end up hurt or change who he was to match Y/N. He felt the need to talk to Y/N, try to figure out what was her plans. He hadn’t talked to her very much as she was always either sleeping during the day or keeping Bucky all to herself.
Steve managed to find her one night alone by some miracle. Bucky was usually always following her around so Steve would take this opportunity to talk to Y/N and feel out her intentions. She was sitting outside in a chair at one of the patio tables, her legs resting on the tabletop. Steve took a seat in the chair next to her, folding his arms across his chest.
Y/N looked over towards him, raising an eyebrow at his posture, “Can I help you?” She asks him. There was no rudeness in her voice but there also wasn’t anything positive hidden in her tone.
Steve sighs a little, “We haven’t really met or talked yet. I’m Steve Rogers.” He said told her, watching her carefully. He could see all the things Natasha had told him- Y/N did seem like she lacked emotions at times but it also seemed like she was constantly challenging those around her with the way she talked and looked at others.
“Oh I know, I’ve heard all about you. Mr. Captain America. Mr. Stars and Stripes. And also Bucky’s best friend.” Y/N said, her lips twitching into a small smile towards him, “So, what can I do for you, Cap?”
“I wanted to know more about you, Y/N.” Steve said honestly, “Nat said some things before you two made up. Bucky is my best friend and I want to know your intentions with him.”
Y/N swung her legs off the table and sat up straight in her chair, tapping her fingers against the arms of the chair gently, “Hasn’t anybody ever told you that a bitter woman can be a real bitch?” She asks with a tilt of her head, “I don’t have any intentions. We are enjoying each other.”
Steve nodded slowly at her words, watching her closely to try and tell if there was any hint of lying in her voice but he couldn’t detect any. Either she was a really good liar or she was telling him the truth, “Bucky’s waited his whole life for his soulmate. He’s gone through more trauma than anybody I know. If you’re planning on hurting him in anyway or just using him for fun or a means to an end with your brother, you should reconsider what you’re doing. You can destroy him, Y/N.”
Y/N rolled her shoulders at his words, her nose twitching slightly in anger, “You want to know a secret, Mr. Stars and Stripes?” She asks, watching as he nodded before continuing, “I’ve met him before. In 2014. I got a gold care to take out Alexander Pierce. I was outside of his house one night all set up ready to snipe him through the window. I watched him shoot his maid. And Bucky was there, sitting at the table. He looked right at me down the scope of my gun and the way he stared was like there were no emotions in his body. He came after me immediately, got really close to getting me too, but I was able to slip away. I was disguised with a mask so nobody could figure out who I was afterwards. I laid low for years, running in fear that the Winter Soldier was going to come after me and also because my buyers were pissed I wasn’t able to deal with Pierce.”
Steve furrowed his brow at her words, confused, “If you were that close to him, why didn’t either of you get your soulmate tattoos until recently?” He asks.
“Because he wasn’t Bucky Barnes. He was the Winter Soldier.” Y/N replied, licking her lips before continuing, “You see, Steve, I could be set on revenge for having to be on the run for a few years because of him. And I am really good at revenge. I know I could ruin him, destroy him as you say. But that is not what I want to do. He is himself again, no longer the man that looked at me with cold, dead eyes. I like him this way and he is my soulmate. If I had any ill will or intentions, he would sense it in an instant.” She stood up, looking down at Steve as he stayed seated, “But if you ever question my intentions with my soulmate again, you and I are going to have a big problem and I have a feeling that’d piss Bucky off more than anything I could do to him.”
As if on queue, Bucky came out of the sliding door to look between Y/N and Steve who seemed to be staring each other down. His brow pulled together in confusion and concern, walking over and placing a hand on Y/N’s waist, “What’s going on? Everything okay?” He asks, looking to Y/N then to Steve. He could feel the anger Y/N felt at this moment directed at Steve and wanted to know why she would be feeling that anger.
Y/N kept her eyes on Steve, “Don’t worry about it, Bucky. We were just having a chat. Just remember what I said about a bitter woman, Steve.” She said before tearing her eyes away from Steve’s and heading back inside to go up to their apartment suite.
Bucky frowned watching her go before looking to Steve, “What happened? Why’s she so mad?” He asks as he sits in the chair Y/N did before.
Steve sighs, running his hand through his blonde hair, “I wanted to figure out more about her. What Natasha said about her concerned me. I’m worried of her intentions with you, Buck.” He said honestly. He never lied to Bucky or kept anything from him. They were best friends after all.
Bucky shook his head at Steve, “I trust her, Steve. I can feel everything she does and I know I can trust her.” He said before letting out a sigh, “You don’t have to trust Y/N. But I do and I know you trust me.”
“Did she tell you that she has met you before?” Steve asks curiously, wondering how much Y/N had told Bucky.
Bucky looked at Steve confused, “That’s impossible. I would’ve remembered her and my tattoo didn’t show up until a few days before I met her.”
Steve looked at Bucky, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his lap, “She says it’s because you weren’t you. It was in 2014, she wore a mask so nobody could identify her. She had a kill order for Pierce.”
Bucky sat back in his chair, processing the information silently. He had managed to piece things together things he had done as the Winter Soldier and he could remember the night he went to Pierce’s house. He had asked if he wanted any milk and it confused him at the time because he was made for orders, not questions. He remembered feeling someone watching him and then he saw the glimmer of a scope rested in the trees. He immediately went into action, chasing the unknown masked person down under Pierce’s orders to kill them but the mystery person had managed to slip away. Bucky gripped the arms of the chair tightly, flinching at the thought of what could’ve happened if she hadn’t been able to get away from him. He would’ve killed her without a second thought and he would’ve never found his soulmate. Silently, Bucky stood up and walked back into the facility. He made his way to the elevator and clicked the top floor where the apartment suites were. When Bucky made it back to their shared room, he found Y/N leaning against the counter of the kitchen, drinking a bottle of beer. He walks over to her immediately, taking the glass out of her hand and placing it on the counter behind her before trapping her, placing his hands on the edge of the counter on either side of her, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew me?” He asks, harsher than he intended for it to sound.
Y/N tilts her head at his question, staring into his eyes. She licks her top lip slowly, his breath hitting her face made her shiver, “Because you weren’t you, Bucky. You were the Winter Soldier. And even though my tattoo has all the markings of your past as the Winter Soldier, he isn’t my soulmate. You are.”
Bucky’s eyes flickered over her face at her words, feeling as though his heart slightly dropped at her words. She didn’t hold anything against him from when he was sent to kill her because it wasn’t him. It made him feel relief, as if the universe was telling him that he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. Bucky leans his forehead onto her shoulder, moving his hands to her hips, “Thank you… for not holding it against me.”
Y/N brought one hand up to run through Bucky’s hair, a small smile coming onto her lips, “Like I said, he wasn’t you. Plus I managed to evade the Winter Soldier which I’m pretty proud of.” She says softly to him, “Now take me to bed, Bucky.”
Bucky didn’t need to be asked twice, he picked her up by her waist until her legs wrapped around his and carried her into their shared bedroom, laying her on the bed as he trailed kisses and his hands all over her body.
A scream awoke Y/N from her sleep. She looked around her room slowly, slipping out of her bed. She gripped onto her purple stuffed bunny, walking out of her room and tip-toeing to her parent’s room. She dropped her stuffed animal at the sight, running over and nudging her mother’s arm as if trying to wake her up but it was too late. Then she heard the screams that she knew was her little brother followed by her older sister. Y/N scrambled under the bed, pressing her hand to her mouth as to not make a sound. Tears rolled down her cheeks slowly as she heard whistling and footsteps approach her deceased parent’s room. Her eyes widened as she saw the door open, watching the black shoes cross the floor and around the bed behind her. Then she screamed as she felt hands wrapped around her ankles, pulling her out from under the bed.
“Hello, sister.” His smile was made of pure evil even for only being thirteen years old.
Y/N gazed up to him in complete fear before kicking his knee and scrambling to her feet, running for the stairs to get outside and away from her twin brother. He caught up to quickly though, tripping her down the stairs and watching her land below on her back with a groan. She opened her eyes to look up at him, “Please…”
Her brother smirked down at her, bending his kneels to squat next to her. He pulled out the hunting knife that had been stashed in a sheath connected to his belt, pointing it at her, “It’s nothing personal. It’s just when a family decides you’re nothing to them… Well there’s no point in a family.” He said with a shrug and a smirk before stabbing the knife into Y/N’s stomach making her scream, “Nothing personal though. You’ve always been my favorite but I’m just the twin nobody wanted.” He pulled out the knife, admiring the blood on it for a moment before walking out the front door, leaving it open.
Y/N watched her twin go and when he was out of sight, she pressed her hands to the stab wound on her hip with as much strength as she could manage. Her eyes focused on the window that showed the night sky.
“I’ll see you soon, sis.”
“Wake up, sweetheart, c’mon… Wake up!” Bucky said, laying next to Y/N. He had seen her nightmare in his own dreams and could feel an emotion he hadn’t felt from her before. It was the slightest ounce of fear. He sat up, placing his hands on both of her shoulders and pulling her up against his chest.
Y/N awoke at the movement of her body being pulled to sit against Bucky’s bare chest, looking at him for a moment, “I’m fine, I’m alright.” She said, pulling herself out of the bed and out of his arms. She ran a hand through her hair before pulling on one of Bucky’s t-shirts over her naked body, “I just need some water.” Y/N said looking over to him as he still sat in the bed with the blankets covering his lap. She turned and left the bedroom, walking to the kitchen and grabbing out a glass before filling it with some water and walking out onto the balcony to allow the fresh air and small breeze to calm her down.
Bucky watched her leave the room before letting out a deep breath. He had felt fear from her caused by the nightmare. He had never felt an ounce of fear in her before and it worried him that it seemed like she was closing off from him again because of it. He pulled the blankets off his body and stood up, pulling some new boxers onto his body. He walked out of the bedroom and to the balcony, placing a hand gently on her back, “Please don’t shut me out, Y/N.” He said gently.
Y/N looked over to Bucky, “I’m sorry. Force of habit.” She said and offered a small apologetic smile before leaning her elbows on the bars of the balcony and fixating on the view in front of her. The sun was threatening to peak into the sky, “Did you see it?”
“I did…” Bucky said softly, watching her face intently as he kept his hand on her back, stroking small circles with his finger tips, “I felt your fear. What scared you?”
Y/N let out a deep breath before bringing the glass of water to her lips and taking a small sip of it, “You saw what happened. It was exactly like that night. Except he never said that he’ll see me soon.” She looks over to stare into his eyes, “That was him. Now him. Telling me he’s coming for me.”
Bucky’s brow pulled together at her words. Must’ve been some sort of weird twin telepathy thing for Gemini to be able to get in her head like that, “You’re safe, doll. I won’t let anything happen to you. Your evil twin isn’t going to take you away from me, I just got you.” He said with a small smile, moving his hand on her back lower to her waist. He stepped up behind her, pressing his body against her’s and kissing down the side of her neck until he reached the hem of the shirt, “Now why don’t you go back to bed? I know you hate the sunrise and we didn’t get much sleep.” He said, grinning crookedly, “After I’m done training with Steve, I’ll come find you, alright?”
Y/N smiles at his touch, biting her lip softly and nodding, “Bed sounds nice.” She said, twisting herself in his grasp to face him and tilts her head, “One day maybe we will get on the same sleep schedules.” She chuckles out before placing her palm on his cheek and giving him a kiss then walking past him back to the bedroom. Y/N was still very much a night owl, sleeping late into the afternoon. Luckily, Bucky had figured out she hated the morning due to the fact that after her twin stabbed her, she had to watch the sunrise through the windows while she waited to be found and made sure to shut all the curtains so she didn’t get disturbed.
Y/N woke up sooner than she usually did but still in the afternoon. She showered and got dressed in some jean shorts with a black tank top and one of Bucky’s dark blue flannels. By the time she was done getting ready it was about four in the afternoon. She figured Bucky was off staying occupied while letting her sleep which she appreciated. A soft knock at the door interrupted her. She opened the door to the apartment suite to find Natasha standing there, “What’s up, Nat?”
Natasha smiled, “Bucky may have mentioned you had a rough time.” She said before holding up two bottles of alcohol, “Figured I’d come cheer you up.”
Y/N smiles and opens the door to let her in, “I feel like he knows me so well - sending my person up with alcohol. What do we have?” She asks, following Natasha to sit on the couch.
“We have vodka for me and tequila for you.” Natasha said, sitting next to Y/N and passing her the bottle of tequila, “I figured it was more of a tequila moment than a whiskey moment.”
“I may have a soulmate but you know me better than anyone.” Y/N said, looking at the bottle, “What did he say?”
Natasha sits back in the couch, looking at Y/N, “He said you had the nightmare about your brother. I didn’t know you still had those.”
Y/N looks over at Natasha while twisting the cap off of the tequila, “I don’t.” She told her, “This one was different. It’s like he was using evil twin telepathy or something. He told me he would see me soon.”
“Creepy.” Natasha replied, standing up and going to the kitchen to grab two glasses before returning to sit on the couch and filling up one glass with a shot of vodka, “You should be safe here. We deciphered the gold card you got from Blake, he was hired by Gemini which we already knew but it didn’t have any other information on where to find him.”
Y/N rolls her eyes in annoyance, “Of course it didn’t.” She muttered out, pouring some of the tequila into the glass, “He could be anywhere, waiting for his opportunity. I can’t just sit here locked in the tower like a damsel in distress.”
Natasha nods slowly, “I know. You’ve never been one to just hide, you’ve always faced your problems.” She said, then holds her glass up, “But right now, tonight, we are going to forget about all your problems with your evil twin and talk about other things.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, picking up her glass of tequila and clinking glasses with Natasha before taking a sip, “I see why you brought the tequila now.” She chuckles. Y/N may love whiskey, but tequila was her go to when she wanted to let go and feel happy.
After a few drinks, Y/N and Natasha were sitting on either side of the coffee table on the floor staring intently at each other, having some sort of competition about things that had happened in their lives.
“My soulmate went to space.”
Shot.
“My soulmate was sent to kill me.”
Shot.
“Your soulmate shot me and almost killed me.”
Shot.
“I have an evil twin that is set on kidnapping me after he attempted to murder me.”
Shot.
“I haven’t had sex in years.”
Shot.
“…. Yeah, okay, you win."
Just when Y/N opened her mouth to continue, they were interrupted by Bucky walking inside with eyes flickering between the two before landing on the bottle of tequila, “Oh no, not the tequila.” He groaned out. Y/N with whiskey was fine but Y/N with tequila was a whole different challenge all together.
Nat shrugs and stood up, “That’s my cue to leave.” She said, snatching the bottle of vodka and leaving the apartment suite promptly but not before saying over her shoulder, “Have fun with the tequila monster!”
Y/N looks up at Bucky and raises an eyebrow, “Tequila monster?” She questions, picking up the tequila and pouring herself another shot.
Bucky walks over and tries to grab the glass but Y/N held it away, “You get a little crazy with tequila.” He said, “And a third of the bottle is gone which means you’re going to be extra crazy.”
Y/N quickly drinks the shot of tequila and passed him the empty glass before standing up and grabbing the bottle of tequila by the neck of the bottle and running into the kitchen on the opposite side of the counter with a mischievous grin on her lips. She brings the open bottle of tequila up to her lips, watching Bucky who stood in the living room teasingly.
Bucky chuckles and shakes his head at her, “Don’t do it, doll.” He said, starting a slow pace towards her. Y/N loved to test Bucky when she drank tequila which is part of the reason the term ‘tequila monster’ came to light. When he saw her press the bottle to her lips and take a few swallows he quickened his pace over to her, “Oh, you’re in so much trouble now, sweetheart.”
Y/N watched him approach, moving around the opposite side of the kitchen island while teasingly taking a few small sips between laughs. Bucky was giving her that dark eyed look and she was thriving off of it.
Bucky caught her eventually, taking the bottle from her hands and placing it on the counter while his arm secured her to his body. He backed her up until her back hit the fridge, staring down at her with a cocky grin, “You are trouble.”
Y/N smiles up at him, jumping up into his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist, “I know. I’m the best kind of trouble though.” She purred out to him, her fingers stroking through his hair slowly.
Bucky kept that grin on his face, his hands immediately going to hold her up by her thighs when she jumped up onto him. Everything about her drove him wild. He never expected he would have to chase his drunk soulmate around their shared kitchen or that she would bring out a wild side in him, yet here he was with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his arms with her back against the fridge, “You’re the perfect kind of trouble, sweetheart.” He purred out to her before connecting his lips with her’s. He forced his tongue between her lips, groaning as it danced with hers. Bucky takes a step forward, pinning her body against the fridge more roughly so he could feel all of her body against his. He pulls away reluctantly when he heard her whimper, pressing his forehead to her’s, “I love you, Y/N.”
_____________________________________________________________
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#bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes series
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The Titans are almost back, bitches. aka 3x06
Guys, literally every time the titans are together-or even paired up-the episode gets ten times better, but in 6 episodes there is simply not enough Kory and Gar. I can easily forget that when I’m basking in the episode they are in, especially when they’re giving us family dynamics.
Kory:
“You’re not mad that I left. You’re mad I came back.” Kory’s face tells us Blackfire is right on the money, and who would know her better than her sister?
So, Kory, oh boy. Our girl is on edge. She is slowly unraveling and is super vulnerable and raw with Kom around and little sister is going to exploit it and her guilt, which I think she’s carrying a lot of. So far their dynamic has been fascinating because there’s so much to read between them and so many accusations being flung back and forth, from both. From Kory; you sense guilt and even contempt and from Kom there’s envy and resentment, but also there’s a sense of idealization for her older sister, too, which of course, with younger siblings, there always is an element of that. And as an older sibling, there is always an unspoken and sometimes spoken responsibility placed on them for their younger siblings. Parents often don’t realize it, but they can create a lot of tension within siblingships by assigning roles.
They remember home and family very differently, which is often the case, too. Kom was often thrown in the pit and to that, Kory attributes her sister’s constant rebellion as the reason, and yet, Kory herself was a bit of a rule breaker, sleeping with her guard, Fiddei.
Kory was being suffocated by the laws and customs of her home planet; one could say she rebelled by going on a mission, to escape her duties. Home did neither of them any favors because while one rebelled because she did not fit in, the one who did fit in was dying inside, surrounded by little robots and becoming one herself. Being told what to eat, wear and who to love or be friends with is yikes.
I was thinking Kom began her game of manipulation in the bunker, but she really started before that when she sent Fiddei to bring Kory home when she probably intended to kill him all along. After all she would’ve castrated him if she’d had the chance to for sleeping with Kory in the first place. Shortly after Fiddei’s death, Kory flamed out. No powers. Emotionally wrung out from the news her family was dead and now the culprit is here. These two know each other very well and know exactly how to get underneath each other’s skin. Right now Kom is getting underneath Kory’s and our girl is losing patience fast.
I’m wondering when exactly Dick will tune into Kory’s anxiety-ridden state and step in to support.
Ultimately, I just want to see what truly happened to the girls on their planet and how we have the versions we have now. Like, Kory said to Rachel, “No one is born good or bad, we are defined by our choices.” I get the feeling Kory has given Kom so many chances to make a different choice and has become disillusioned, meanwhile Kom believes nothing she does will give her the respect she feels she deserves anyway, so she may as well blow shit up, figuratively and literally. At least then she’ll have Kory’s attention.
Gar:
Gar losing it on Dick was so cathartic and yet he could’ve gone much further, considering Dick abandoned him last season to go jail and hallucinate Bruce. It ultimately led to Gar (and Conner) being kidnapped and experimented on by Mercy. It’s actually all the adults fault this happened, but as the leader promoting his family everywhere he goes, he needs to keep his eye on the ball. He would know if he spent five minutes at home with them that Gar is struggling. Last season Gar was #OperationSaveTitans and this season he’s #ThisFamilyIsDying. He’s doing what the adults should be doing, or at least leading the charge on it. He’s the glue, but who will hold him together?
He’s carrying too much emotional responsibility and Dick’s dismissal, because he is fully locked into Gotham and being Batman, makes me mad. Get your head in the game, Grayson. Gotham is going to eat your family while you retread the nostalgic steps of your past.
We all know Dick’s not good at expressing himself emotionally, though he’s usually forced to express something when talking to or being confronted by Kory, so I was proud of him for giving Gar the floor to speak. I just wish Gar spoke about himself, but then again, he needs more time and consistent offers to be heard. I’m happy Dick followed up the conversation up with a bonding/training session. There was definitely pride in Dick’s face because Gar really has come a long way in this group, but he needs MORE SCREEN TIME. I’d like to see the two of them out in the field together the way we’ve seen Kory this season with Gar and Conner.
I wonder if Gar losing control is the start of all his trauma bubbling up to the surface, will being in Gotham, hunting down a friend be too much?
As a side, has the CGI tiger face gotten worse?
Kom (and Conner):
First thing’s first, what music are we thinking Kom listens to? Probably the kind of music she can break your tailbone to, like, Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole and Jay Z, or Prince, Jimmy Hendrix, Stevie Nicks and Led Zeppelin? Rihanna?
Kom is absolutely a villain this season and if she isn’t, what a waste that’ll be. A mastermind at mind games (see, her picking up the chess piece), who is going to drum up Kory’s paranoia and anxiety around her being there. Trying to kill her suspicion by guilt tripping her while simultaneously being a do good-er to the group, feigning interest in helping the Titans to earn her way in, a tip from our boy, Conner.
She says she wants acceptance and I believe that’s absolutely true, but she doesn’t know how to get that without using power, so she’ll continue to covet acceptance through and with power because according to Kory, she’s always been a climber. Add to that, being born the cursed child and the only royal member born without the gift of fire, something that differentiates them from the common folk, being too frail to participate in the same games as Kory, having a speech therapist be her only friend while being the object of ridicule and you have a villain origin story nicely set up.
I really enjoyed Conner and Kom’s exchange. The boy lit up when he spoke about seeing his family happy and it made me light up. He’s so genuine and has a big heart and Kom is going to take advantage of it, that’s not to say she won’t develop real feelings for him, but she can like him and still use him.
Conner’s “you have to earn your way into the family,” is perhaps an internal and personal struggle he has from sharing blood with Luthor. I think it may come from an insecure place because he was made a titan as soon as he woke up and no one questioned it, but as he’s only half of superman, he’s constantly trying to prove his usefulness for good, which losing Hank has rocked, leaving him vulnerable to Kom’s recognition for his otherness. Their otherness.
She gave us insight into her mind, but also she has likely seized an opportunity to use the vulnerability against Conner and to her favor by making him her kindred. Outcasts. Will she gain influence over him? He’s still young and learning, and trusting, too.
Her interest in him felt layered, ignoring the ugly customs of sex servants, she was also observing Kory’s relationships and ranking them in her sister’s life. Her being able to determine who may have Kory’s interest (which Kory gave away with her vulnerable display of worry over Dick’s welfare in front of Kom) will surely come into play at some point, right? After all, Kom did kill Kory’s last lover/royal guard. This may be me projecting. LOL.
Romantically, I’m waiting to see how they play it before I decide if I like it or not, but so far, they have a nice chemistry. Friendly.
Dick (and Barbara) :
What a lovable dumb ass.
I was so happy Kory lost it on him and called him on his lone ranger shit, at least when it’s her, even when he’s being an idiot, he’s still listening. “Let’s go.” and I thought it was hilarious that he tried explaining himself, but when Gar called him out, he got all huffy with, “Excuse me, young man.”
Gar asking Kory not to have words with Barbara over Dick getting shot was so funny because Dick’s face seemed to ask the same when she asked how it happened. We love a protective Kory. I’ll be looking at him when it’s his turn to reciprocate.
I don’t like him dismissing their concerns about his personal safety and how it affects them, it’s like he’s learned nothing after running off alone to battle Trigon, or rather has unlearned his lessons of S2. I’d like to see some more permanent emotional growth from him by this season’s end. In his current state, he’s not an exuding leader. He can’t be when he’s still wrapped up in Bruce and all things Gotham. He’s not tuned into Kory’s anxiety, or Conner’s grief and insecurity, or Gar’s emotional burden.
He’s started making it up to him, but he has much to do in taking Gar’s concerns and emotional needs seriously.
I’m not even going to try and work out the timeline between Barbara and Dick and Dick and old Titans in San Fran and S1. But it doesn’t bode well that Dick’s dream with Barbara ended in a nightmare.
I wish they’d never did the whole Dick and Dawn relationship in S2 because they’re basically repeating some of the beats in showing us how they don’t work as a couple, only his relationship with Babs makes a lot more sense even though I don't care. Dick has unfinished business with that relationship, Bruce and Gotham and I can only hope he’s wrapped it up for good by this season’s end. I want to see relaxed, smiling and happy Dick in THE PRESENT. I still Babs will be the one to notice and point out Dick's feelings for Kory.
Barbara (outside of Dick) is being downplayed a little, no? Dismissing Dick’s suspicions about Jason when he arrived, showing no knowledge of Jason’s visits to Crane and then taking the bait and moving Crane after he got a light beat down. A commissioner who was also a very capable vigilante is tricked by a recording and goes to meet “Bruce” on her own. I really enjoyed that she could hold her own and the fight scene was really good, but it was a bit baffling that she fell for that ruse. So far, she’s not entirely good at her job.
Dick’s a distraction in his own right and her feelings clearly get in the way, which is why she keeps asking him to leave the precinct and Gotham; because she’s pining a fantasy and he’s ruining it. Lastly, I really like the way Savannah plays Barbara.
Why’d they do that to Tim?? :(
Overall, it was a better episode and I enjoyed it more than latter episodes, but they’re not quite there yet for me. I’m still waiting for Team Titans.
#dc titans#kory anders#koriand'r#stafire#gar logan#beast boy#dick grayson#nightwing#conner kent#superboy#noa posts
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Captivated
Pairing: Harry Styles x OC
Warnings: kidnapping, dubious consent, sexual themes, dark themes, mental health, gang themes, bdsm, master/slave dynamic, trauma bond
Summary: Three little words.....If anyone ever asked me what terrified me the most....what made my heart pound and my blood run cold. My mouth dry up and my nails dig into the palms of my hands....I'd say it was three little words.
A/N: my dearest Molly @macabreharry begged me to post here as well so here you go. This fic goes back and forth in view points, every new viewpoint is a different chapter on Wattpad but I decided just to break it up in one chapter here. I will post regularly as I do on Wattpad. Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts, but be nice. This is my first dive into writing Fanfiction.
Three little words.
If any one ever asked me what terrified me the most. What made my heart pound and my blood run cold. What made my nails dig into the palms of my hands and my mouth run dry....
I'd have to say it was three little words.
It's amazing how fast the night changes.
One minute I'm happily in love, enjoying my vacation with my fiancé Damion, being wrapped in love and lust all hours of the day and night in our private bungalow in Mexico City.
The next I'm caught in a sinking black tar pit, being pulled deeper and deeper into the dark underbelly of the world. Where sin is a three letter word and money is only a commodity.
The man had been watching me the entirety of our meal. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, trying to focus on Damion and what he was saying to me.
But those eyes.
Those green fucking eyes haunted me.
We were finishing our meal when the waiter came over, placing a receipt in front of us.
"Your meal has been paid for." Damion raised an eyebrow. He was a bigger guy, dark black hair, brown eyes, muscular. He shook his head, reaching for his wallet.
"I can pay for our own meal thanks." The waiter looked terrified, shaking his head at Damion. I felt the green eyed man watching me. I looked over to see him, rings glinting off his fingers as he raised a glass of dark red wine to his lips, sipping it casually.
"No Sir." The waiter said, shaking his head. I saw the green man smirk.
"What the fuck do you mean no?" Damion growled. He shoved his wallet into the waiter's hand. "Give the guy his money back." The waiter still refused. Setting down Damion's wallet.
"He said to consider it as payment and as a farewell gift." My blood turned cold. Damion looked at the waiter confused.
"Who...." Damion said, his voice low, "who paid for our meal."
Just as I had suspected, the waiter pointed behind Damion, to the green eyed man, watching us closely.
Damion didn't say another word to the waiter. He stood, walking back to the table. I could only sit there. Damion stood in front of the man, who stayed seated. He looked almost bored as he and Damion shared whispered words. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Damion's posture was stiff and I saw his fists clenched and unclench.
After a few minutes he turned, the green eyed man meeting my gaze and smiling at me, though it wasn't a smile I particularly liked. Damion grabbed me by my elbow, yanking my purse from my chair.
"C'mon." His tone was urgent as he pulled me toward the exit. "We need to leave now."
~*~*~
Harry Styles wasn't the worst thing that could happen to a girl.
At least that's how he felt.
As a Slave trainer and Owner himself, he had trained scores of girls. Teaching them how to be obedient and submissive to their husbands and Masters, whatever their owner wanted is what they got. He taught them that their wants and desires were inconsequential to that of their Master. And he was good. Good enough to now own his own mansion, with two slaves of his own and a few still undergoing training with him.
He'd been in it for a long time. Taking girls and breaking them down, rebuilding them into the perfect submissive a and them selling them. It was a lucrative market, one he definitely profited from and he could tell, now, just by looking at a girl, how easily she would break or how much of a challenge she would be.
And this girl.
This girl now.
She was something special.
Long black hair that fell in loose curls down her back and over her shoulders, a blood red silk dress that hugged her curvy body and a v neck front that made her breasts look heavenly. Deep brown eyes surrounded by thick lashes and painted red lips, that lucked delicious. Her skins was darker, a bronzed tan that made her glow like a Goddess. She was perfect. Harry could see it clearly in his mind's eye, her on her knees before him, worshiping his cock. He wanted her.
He watched her talk to the man she was with. He was broad, sturdy, looked more like a body guard than a boyfriend if you asked him.
He watched them talk, sipping his merlot and barely listening to the conversation of his own table. He couldn't take his eyes off of her and when he wanted something, god damnit he got it. She smiled at his jokes, her smile breathtaking as her eyes lit up. She reached out, manicured hand touching the man's arm so gently, so delicately it nearly broke his heart. She was a princess, a proper baby girl. His palm itched, he was dying to take her.
When their waiter left their table he whistled to him, beckoning him closer with his finger. The waiter looked frightened and God was it an ego boost for Harry. This kid knew very well who Harry was and who he was affiliated with. The boy stopped just before his table, eyes wide as he looked down at 'Hermoso Muerte'.
"Senor?" The boy asked. Harry beckoned him closer, leaning up slightly to whisper in the boy's ear.
"Estoy pagando su comida. si te preguntan considéralo un regalo de despedida además de un pago," (I'm paying for their meal. If they ask, consider it a farewell gift as well as payment.) the boy swallowed hard, nodding his head.
Harry continued to watch them. She laughed and batted her eyes, blushing when he whispered something in her ear. She was sweet, he could tell and when her eyes finally met his, he didn't look away, instead he challenged her, staring right back at her, waiting for her to break the contact. Which she did.
Repeatedly.
He liked that.
He wondered what she was thinking. Did she know something was amiss? Did she know something was coming? When she looked at him, did her blood run cold? He hoped it did. He hoped she was frightened. That made it more fun.
When the boy told them about the meal he watched as the boyfriend's shoulders straightened and the blood drained from her face. Confusion knitting her brows. The boy pointed to him, to which, they both turned. Harry kept his eyes on her though, smiling.
The boyfriend got up, walking towards him, dark eyes narrowed. Harry stayed quiet, his table suddenly interested in what was going on.
"Thanks for the offer man. But I can pay for my own food." Harry stayed calm, swirling his wine in his glass and looking at the guy with a bored expression. This only seemed to fuel the man's anger and that amused him.
"Don't worry about it mate. It's my pleasure." He smiled, but the man only seemed to get angrier.
"I don't know what kind of bullshit games you're playing," he pulled his wallet out, flinging a couple hundreds down at Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow, smoothing his hand down the front of his shirt. "But we don't need it. Piss off."
"Watch your mouth." Harry said. His voice was low and held warning. They stared each other down for another moment before the man huffed. He turned away, grabbing the girl by the elbow and leading her out of the restaurant. Harry watched as they started to leave.
"Liam. Xander." He said, his voice still eerily calm. "Follow them. You know what to do."
~*~*~
Damion was the first one to come see me in Psych.
The FBI was now involved, because of Harry's status as a Cartel Kingpin. They wanted answers from me. Information. Harry had taught me to keep silent. Learn when to speak and when to listen. Always way for an opportunity to get what you want.
When Damion knocked on my door it felt like all the wind had been knocked out of me. He looked different, a permanent scar under his eye from where Liam had hit him with the butt of his gun. He looked exhausted, eyes blood shot, face pale. He had lost quite a bit of weight as well. The man I once loved now thinner, more gaunt. He smiled meekly at me.
"Dia...." I sucked in a breath. I hadn't heard that name in so long. Harry had always called me bird. His little bird.
Damion sat down across from me on the chair in my room. It was very sparse, white cement walls, a creaky bed, a desk and a chair. I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything I could say. I didn't love him anymore.
"How are you Dia? I'm so glad you're alive." His words were soft, I could hear the gratitude in them. It made me feel sick. I didn't want to be alive. Not if Harry wasn't. But I can't think that way.....
"I'm fine." I say, my voice sounding mechanical and robotic. He must have noticed because he frowned, looking at me sadly.
I could only imagine what he was seeing. I had been here for two months and every time I looked in the mirror I couldn't recognize the girl staring back at me. Lifeless hair and eyes, sickly looking complexion, permanent scowl. That was my makeup nowadays.
"No," he shook his head. "You're not fine. Look at you." He reached out to touch my face. I flinched back, eyes downcast. I didn't want to see the hurt in his eyes. The betrayal. That one move was enough. He knew.
"I'm not....I'm not Dia anymore Damion." I looked up, tears in my eyes. "I'm not the girl you loved." He was silent after I spoke. I had a sneaking suspicion that Warner, the Agent who'd been up my ass since my arrival at Greenhaven, assumed once I saw Damion I would break. But Harry taught me better than that.
"I'm sorry Dia....for everything." His voice cracked as he spoke. "I should have been there for you. Supported you through the miscarriage-"
"Don't." I snapped, looking up at him. "This has nothing to do with that or you." I picked at my lips, Harry would smack my hand away if he was here. "This isn't your fault Damion."
We sat there silently for a little while longer. There wasn't anything to say. I was resolved to whatever was going to happen to me now and I wanted him to move on.
"Nice trick today." I said as Agent Warner entered the interrogation room. It was an old conference room in the hospital but the only time I was ever here was to be questioned by Warner and her flackies. "Sending Damion in to talk to me." I tsked. "You can do better than that."
Agent Warner was tough. I can give her that. She wore thick black square glasses, had beady black eyes, a crooked nose and thin lips. Her hair was poofy, thinning and streaked with grey. She's been doing her job for a long time, and we'd struck up a bit of banter, but I never gave in. Not like she wanted me too.
"I thought it'd be nice for you to see there are people here who really care for you Claudia." I hissed. That wasn't my name anymore. It hadn't been for nearly a year. "You cannot go on like this. You have to let him go."
"By letting him go, you mean confess everything to you? Bare my sins to the priest and I'll be absolved, my whole life changed?" I scoffed. "I told you. I don't know anything."
"Then how do you know Harry is dead?" A streak of rage and possessiveness ran through me. I narrowed my eyes at her.
"I saw him get shot. I saw him go down."
"But there's no body."
I smiled, thin lipped. "It's the Cartel honey." Agent Warner sighed, taking her glasses off and rubbing her forehead. I was stubborn, my walls always up. Harry taught me that too. Keep everything inside. Weakness gets you killed.
"Claudia.....you do realize that if you don't comply I can't help you. You're looking at prison time. Federal prison time. Charges of murder, sex trafficking, drug trafficking. Somebody's gotta go down." I scoffed, sitting back and crossing my arms.
"The fact that you really think I was important enough to know anything about the major operations is laughable."
"Tell me then." Agent Warner said through gritted teeth, I loved getting to her. "What were you then?"
"I was his. And he was mine."
~*~*~
Fear and adrenaline pumped through my body as Damion shoved me into the passenger seat of the car. I didn't have time to process what had happened before he was throwing the car in reverse and we were peeling out of the parking lot.
"Something was off with that guy." Damion said, shaking his head as we drove. "It was weird. I can't place my finger on it." I felt it too. The way he was looking at me, that smile that held not a hint of kindness. Something horrible was happening and I had a sick feeling about it in my gut.
We drove down a long stretch of road. No lights except our head beams. The sky was dark, no moon or stars to light our way as Damion sped back towards the hotel.
And then the car showed up behind us.
It came out of nowhere, high beams on as it zoomed past, it got in front of us, slowing down as we went. Damion cursed and I clutched the purse in my hands, anxiety and dread filling my belly.
Another car came up beside us, steady right next to our car as we went. I let out a soft sob as the car in front of us stopped. We were blocked in now and there was no getting out of it.
Damion locked the doors, looking over at me with a calm expression. But his eyes gave him away, he was just as terrified as I was.
"No matter what happens you run. Got it? Run as fast as you can. Find someone, anyone. But you get the hell out of here." The driver's side door of the car in front of us opened. A man in a mask climbed out of the car, walking over to ours.
He stood outside the window. I held my breath, feeling like a deer that senses it's predator watching them. Something shiny glinted as the man pulled it from his pocket and then he ducked down. The sound of something ripping, a hiss and then the feel of our tire going flat.
"Damion." I squeaked in terror. He kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel, flexing his fingers a bit.
"You're okay." He tried to reassure me. But I didn't feel okay. I felt nauseous, and dizzy.
The man came back up and tapped on the window.
"Open the door mate." He had an English accent. He wasn't from Mexico. Damion shook his head. The man pulled something else from his pocket, it was dark, but I knew the outline of a gun when I saw it. He tapped on the glass with the barrel. "Open." He demanded. "Now."
Damion didn't get the chance to respond. The sound of glass shattering on my side had him turning towards me, as hands reached into the car.
I screamed, wrestling with the unknown assailant's arms as he unhooked the seatbelt. I didn't realize the other man had smashed the window on Damion's side as well.
As I was dragged through the window, Damion reached over, trying to pull me back into the car. The sound of something hard hitting skin rings in my ears as Damion goes limp and I'm dragged the rest of the way out of the car.
"Stop! Fucking stop!" I screamed, kicking and pushing against the man holding me.
"Son of a bitch!" A man grunted. A sharp pain exploded in the back of my head. My vision went white and then blackness overcame me.
I couldn't see. When I came too, a piece of cloth covered my eyes. I tried to scream but there was another piece of cloth in my mouth. I felt nauseas. The events of the night coming back to me slowly. I felt the tears begin to flow as anxiety clutched my throat and terror seized my belly. My hands were bound. I lay on my stomach, my hands tied to my ankles. I wiggled, trying to get out of it, when a hand landed firmly on my ass, making me squeal in pain.
"Stay still!" The man from before, the one with the accent, barked out. I whimpered, halting my movements. I was lying on the floor in the back of a car, the smell of alcohol and marijuana filled my nose and senses.
"Hefe is gonna be pissed at you." The English one said. Another man scoffed, I could hear the swish of something and a large swallow.
"He'll get over it. We got her didn't we? Humph. Should let me have a go at her after she kicked me in the nuts." The other man chuckled, I could feel the car slowing down.
"Remember to watch your mouth." The English one said. "You're new, but Hefe doesn't take kindly to things like that. As a matter of fact. Just let me do the talking. You've done enough yeah? Fucking up her face like that." Nothing more was said. The car came to a stop and I heard them each get out.
I braced myself as the back door flew open. Rough hands grabbed me around, yanking me out of the car and tossing me over their shoulder. I felt the warm night air on my skin, change to cool, air condition settings as we entered a building, the man who carried me's feet clapped against the floor as he walked. There was the sound of a door unlocking and then I was tossed down onto what I knew later to be a mattress. Without another word the footsteps retreated and I was left on my own.
I struggled. I kicked and fought, trying to get the restraints off of me. I managed to move the gag from my mouth and the blindfold up. The room I was in was ornate. Gold laden furniture aligned the walls. The four poster bed I laid on had a canopy and too many pillows. Satin sheets beneath my body tussled as I squirmed. But then the footsteps came again.
I stilled, holding my breath as I waited for them to return. Maybe they would kill me. God I hoped that's all they would do.
But when the door opened I was met with the same pair of eyes that had watched me in the restaurant.
Except his smile now was sinister.
~*~*~
*tw: ED
"I want a new roommate!" I looked up. Dena had her arms crossed, pouting at the nurse. Dena was a pretty girl, but she was anorexic I think, and that was why she was here. I didn't really care. The nurses did checks every two hours. I had been sitting on my bed, in a daze, staring out the window.
I was thinking about that last day with Harry. What he wanted to say that he never got the chance to. I wondered if he was still alive. Was he at our spot? I hoped he was. I liked to imagine him sitting on the hood of his car, sipping a blue berry slushee and looking up at the sky, long brown hair up in a bun, sunglasses on-
"All she ever does is cry over her bitch of a boyfriend." My jaw flexed at her words, my eyes narrowing.
"Don't call him that." Dena looked at me, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
"Your boyfriend. Is a fucking PSYCHOPATH."
It was like Satan himself possessed me.
I lunged from my bed, landing on top of the small girl. She screeched as she fell back on the bed. I hit her, slamming her into the bed and wrapping my hand around her throat. I was seeing red, the only thing I heard was the ringing in my ears.
An older male orderly, Burt, lifted me easily off of her, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me away. I didn't fight him too much, he was nice to me and snuck me extra pudding cups when he could.
~*~
They threw me in solitary. It was 'unacceptable' of me to attack Dena. But I didn't care. Harry wasn't a psychopath. Maybe a narcissist with sociopathic tendencies, but not psycho. He had been cold and calculated in everything he did, until I came along. I fucked it all up.
It felt like days passed as I lay in solitary. The walls were padded and the only human interaction I had was at mealtime. Ham sandwiches everyday, because they didn't even trust me with plastic. It was too quiet. All around me I could hear echoes of him. I felt his hand on my skin, his lips on my ear. His ghost whispered to me at night. And I just.....I really missed him.
"I heard you attacked your roommate." Warner said at our next meeting. I sat across from her, arms folded, face blank. I was in a mood and I didn't want to deal with her shit.
"She got what she wanted." Warner raised an eyebrow.
"And that was?" I shrugged.
"A new roommate." She chuckled at that, shaking her head as she tidied the paperwork in front of her. "I...I have a question." Warner paused, looking up at me with a cautious expression.
"And what might that be?"
"If....if I tell you everything I know....can you get me witness protection?" Warner looked surprised. I had fought so hard against her for so long. But I was tired. I felt like maybe if I said it all out loud, maybe then he'd stop haunting me. I could only hope.
"Why now?" She asked. "You haven't been upfront at all. How would I know you're telling the truth." I smirked, nodding my head.
"Harry taught me to play my hand right. To analyze my cards before I fold or bet. If I'm going to give you information, I need to get something out of it too. Everybody wins. You get the guys that killed him, I get a new life."
"You're a calculated little thing aren't you Claudia?" I smirked proudly.
"He taught me everything I know." Warner sat back, flipping the Manila folder she had opened shut. She tapped her finger against her chin.
Warner flipped a piece of paper and a pen to me.
"Sign this. It says everything you're saying is true. If you perjure yourself, you will go to prison. Got it?" I nodded, picking up the pen.
"Okay." I signed the paper quickly, handing it back to her. Warner put it in her folder, setting it to the side as she looked at me. “Now I’ll tell you everything.”
#harry styles x reader#harry styles reader insert#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles#Harry styles fanfic
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For the 007 Fest Anon prompts: Magical realism
Scav hunt item #55: Create art using a prompt from the MI6Cafe Weekly Art Prompts + “Mayday”
Notes: Unbetaed as always. Canon typical violence.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday-!"
The city is caught in a deluge when he arrives.
Traffic is backed up for miles, vehicle after vehicle trapped in complete frustrating gridlock.
He's walked the two miles to his destination, leaving behind an irate cab driver with a generous tip for his trouble.
Along the way, a young nymph looking to be no more than 10 summers old, offers a flower garland weaved of fresh white Heather from the shelter of a narrow porch. He eyes the fresh cut hanging over the front door.
He purchases two, to the girl's cheery delight.
----
“We've lost three engines! Requesting immediate vectors to the nearest airfield! Mayday, mayday, mayday! Shit, Number 4's go-"
----
One mile in, he stumbles across a heavily flooded street.
Earsplittingly loud lighting cracks overhead, an occasional flash that lights the street up.
The flood waters are ice cold. With the water level at thigh height, his wellies do nothing to keep them from gushing around his equally frozen feet. He resigns himself to a hot bath later.
Here, no cars are able to pass through at all.
Despite the hazards, there are people out and about in front of their buildings. There are merchants desperately hauling their merchandise to higher ground, attempting to salvage what they can from the havoc. Some are putting up brightly coloured banners and decorative displays. At every door, a stalk of white Heather hangs, children gleefully arranging whole seashells in intriguing patterns around them.
The mood, though dampened by the terrible weather, borders on festive.
There are neighbours exchanging sweet breads, a friendly trade of roasted poultry, a shared fish or two in covered dishes to shield the food from the downpour.
Their joy is a distant consideration in comparison to his inner disquiet.
An elderly man catches sight of him standing and staring openly at the activities. He glances down to his hand, to the two Heather garlands cradled protectively. The old man tuts reprovingly and wades through the waters towards him.
"Shells," the old man tuts as he offers two perfect clam shells, canine tail wagging, "Intention means nothing without it."
He crosses the street, with his gifts in hand.
----
"Mayday, mayday, mayday! We've lost all four engines- Christ, we're not going to make it back to land-!"
----
He hears the adolescents well before he sees them.
In a deserted street, dull with old street lamps and filthy storefronts, the hooded teens giggle with cruel delight as they rip down fabric banners and shatter the crystal glass figurines of various marine creatures. The lovely shells and stalks of white Heather meet the same dismal fate.
Amidst their destruction, one of the teens happens to look up, forked tongue flickering out to taste the wind. Their eyes drop to his arms and they elbow their companions. The group sneers, wisely backing off momentarily and not doing anything as foolish as engage him in a fight.
Given his state of mind, it is more than likely that the teens will not come out the other end of the fight unscathed despite the protection of armoured scales.
"The sea witch's a fucking sham anyways!" the kid yells over their retreating backs, "ya'll nuts for believing that shit!"
When the last teen disappears round the street corner, he sighs, taking the moment to sweep the glass shards to the side with his foot instead of leaving them in the middle of the pavement for some poor sod to injure themselves on later. The rising waters will take care of the mess soon enough anyways.
The glint of light on glass draws his eye to the ledge, where several pristine figures lie untouched. He is irrepressibly drawn to one in particular- a carving not of an animal but a floating feather caressed by an invisible wind.
His eyes surveys the street warily for a moment. The glass feather slips unnoticed into the depths of his jacket.
In the distance, the sea churns with rage.
----
"Mayday, mayday, may-"
----
There is little else he can do but scour the shores, buffeted by strong gusts and blinded by sea spray.
The boats are all docked away, no skipper daring enough to take on the sea in her volatility. The worst of the storm is miles away from land, but its effects are felt all the same.
A set of files arrives in his email courtesy of Q Branch and Tanner- maps and coordinates and prediction models, all of which he studies intensively in the comfort of his temporary safe house. The glass feather sits prominently besides his laptop, a silent but steadfast companion to his activities.
It, along with the Heather garlands and clam shells, bear witness to him smashing his ceramic mug in a fit of fury.
The lone image glares accusingly at him from his laptop screen, a low quality shot worsened by the movement of the camera it was shot with.
The object is a blurry mess, details rendered indistinct by the rolling waves and heavy rainfall. But enough of the form remains for the item to be identified- its implications are what trigger his episode of temper.
A lone tail fin, ripped from its place at the rear of an aircraft, is a death sentence.
----
He's on his fifth bottle, drowning his sorrows with a vengeance. Outside, the deluge lets up a little into a light patter against the balcony.
The helplessness weighs heavily like an albatross around his neck.
Squeals waft up from the street below, a pod of local mers grasping the opportunity the flood waters present and taking the chance to explore streets they have never traversed before. Their melodious cries of astonishment and wonder, once music to his ears, prove too much for the dark cloud hanging over him.
He throws back his head against the couch and guzzles down more bitter ale.
----
He comes to in his tiled bathroom, curled over the toilet seat with acidic sick stinking up his nose. It's no gentle thing, he wakes up with a jerk, disorientated and without memory of how he has gotten to the bathroom in the first place. Adrenaline rushes through his veins.
With the fog in his head clearing up, he notices the rattling coming from his balcony, accompanied by quiet curses.
He gets up, hand curling around the walther under his arm. He creeps towards the source of the commotion, feet as light as a cat's paws. Whatever and whomever the intruder is, he's of no mood to be gracious.
The rattling pauses, an indignant squawk of frustration follows it.
It speaks volumes of his training, both military and 00 that he does not drop his piece from shock.
There on his balcony, his Quartermaster scowls angrily at the offending lock while looking like a drowned rat.
In his chest, his heart leaps.
His movement draws Q's attention and it's then he's hollered at to "open the bloody doors before I kick them down!"
There's no word vast enough, deep enough to encompass the depth of his emotions as he swiftly undoes the lock and throws the double doors open. Heather and shells are sent flying but all he cares for is pulling Q into a bone crushing embrace.
----
The rain picks up, droplets soaking through the cotton of his shirt. The front is already soaked through, thoroughly pressed against a sopping wet Quartermaster as he is.
He pulls them inside, away from the storm, away from the windows. Disbelief and hope war within his chest as he studies Q with an anxious eye, warm towels in his hand to replace soaked clothes.
He says nothing of the massive bruising on Q's torso, a large swath that belies the extent of physical trauma its owner has gone through.
Belatedly, he registers the noticeable lack of glasses, the raw scrapes and bruising over pale cheeks and knuckles.
The hulking set of white wings tipped with black and dusty grey.
"Albatross," he breathes reverently.
He'd assumed from Q's presence in the tunnels of Q Branch, the way he draws comfort from his underground haven, that his Quartermaster is a member of an underground species of sorts- a Null even, rare as truly non-magical folk are amongst the general population. The personnel file certainly hasn’t provided much insight either given their propensity for obfuscation when executive members of staff are involved.
"Yes, well, turns out I was just a late bloomer" Q sniffs, squinting at a dust speck on the wall through the conspicuous lack of glasses, "you're not on the water all the time either."
Bond smiles indulgently though offers no contest.
With his parents and kin long gone, there was simply no incentive to remain near his family’s seat of power all the time. The murky depths of the loch holds no interest, lacking in the thrill and constant entertainment cities like London offer. Besides-
First M, a hawk, now Q, an albatross - he's always been drawn to the sky much more than his peers.
He feels out Q's wings carefully, stretching one out to examine the feathers and bone. The appendage trembles under his tentative scrutiny, morphing into a full body shiver that goes right down to Q's toes. The first wing passes muster, so he moves on to the other.
Q yelps loudly as his fingers prod a particular sore spot.
It has him relaxing his fingers immediately, though he does not cease supporting the injured wing.
"I don't think it's broken," Q whimpers, fingers twisting anxiously.
Like a dam, Q's hard won composure crumbles. "Couldn't get them out," Q sobs, "They were too far forward, I barely got myself out-" The frantic babble dies away into hitched sobs.
He croons lightly in response, a soothing rumble he's heard mers sing to their fry. He runs his fingers through mussed curls, letting the grief and guilt run its course.
The kit he has isn't stocked for treating winged individuals or traumatised ones for that matter, but he's a witch- he'll make the best with what he has. He'll get them both home.
---
In the distance, the sea finally calms.
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The One with The Miscommunication
Rey’s heart is pounding as her Uber pulls up to the restaurant. It’s within walking distance, but she didn’t want to risk arriving with sweat glistening in her forehead, so she spent the money. And that’s how serious she was about this; that’s how much this date meant to her. Her first date with Ben was worth spending unnecessary money so that she could look her best.
Ben Solo. Tall, built like a sky rise, so handsome he made her heart hurt. Her best friend. Her favourite person in the whole world.
She loved him so much she would risk their friendship for this opportunity to be more.
Asking him had been the most nerve-wracking thing she had ever done.
“Hey Ben, do you want to go to The Castle for dinner tonight?” She’d asked him, palms sweaty and heart racing this morning as they walked into the building they both worked in, separate companies and different floors.
They’d met when the elevator had gotten stuck a year before and had bonded over the shared trauma of being stuck twenty floors above nothing in a small metal box.
He’d smiled at her. “Of course.” She’s grinned at him as the elevator moved upwards. “I’ll see you at 7 then. It’s a date,” she’d replied, shooting him a smile as the elevator arrived at her floor.
“You can do this girl,” she whispers to herself as she looks through the glass. Ben hasn’t arrived yet but there is still ten minutes to go and Ben is chronically on time for things, while Rey feels odd if she isn’t at least a few minutes early.
She thinks about walking inside and waiting but the air is cool and despite taking the Uber, she can feel her body has developed a fine layer of sweat anyway.
She looks down at the black heels she rarely wears and wonders what he’ll think. She’d only ever worn them once where he’d seen and she had remembered the way his eyes had drifted down her legs, bare but for her cocktail dress that ended two inches above her knees.
She remembered the way his hand had twitched when he’d danced with her and realised her dress was backless as his hand had met bare flesh.
She’d wanted to kiss him that night so badly, but had lost her courage after he’d gotten into an argument with his Father that had ended with Ben drinking too much whiskey and Rey sleeping above the covers next to him to make sure he didn’t choke in his sleep.
But now, now she was ready.
She giggles under her breath, giddy and nervous, before looking up and seeing his car pull into a spot a short walk away.
She smooths down the front of her forest green sweater dress and takes a deep breath before running her tongue over her teeth, making sure none of the blood red lipstick she is wearing has transferred.
She is resisting the urge to pull up her phone camera and double check when she hears footsteps approaching.
She’s grinning widely when she looks up at him, her heart already at risk of exploding before every muscle in her body freezes.
He’s not alone.
Her smile drops so suddenly she imagines it must have looked almost comical as she takes in her best friend, in a button up the exact colour of her dress that would make her laugh under different circumstances. But she can’t laugh because he’s standing next to their friends Hux and Rose.
Her heart seizes before restarting and she can feel the fissure tears forming all over the organ.
He has invited people on their date, which has made it no longer a date.
Her heart beat once, twice and she inhaled shakily before looking up at Ben.
He was looking at her and she knew what he would be seeing. The makeup, the hair she’d painstakingly curled and brushed until it was perfect and shiny. The dress and shoes in place of her usual jeans and converse.
She watches him blink slowly as he looks at her with wide eyes that she loves so much but, in this moment, make her want to cry.
“Hi,” she says, sounding soft and timid and so unlike herself that she wishes desperately she was already inside with a drink in her hand. A large one.
“Hey,” Ben responds, and she watches as he swallows and fuck her, this is so awkward.
“Rey!” Her dearest female friend exclaims, coming forward to hug her. Rose’s pregnant belly juts out in between them and Rey finds herself, giggling as she embraces her friend, taking a few shaky breaths she knows Rose can hear.
“I didn’t realise, I’m so sorry,” Rose whispers into her hair and Rey shrugs into the hug.
They pull apart and Rey smiles at her, not the grin of before but as close as she can get with the rejection swimming around her. “How much longer until my little Goddaughter arrives?” She asks, though she knows the answer. Little Paige isn’t here yet, but Rey already loves the girl so dearly.
“Three weeks,” Hux answers with a smile. He’s become more personable in the three years she’s known him, and he no longer has resting sneer face. “Everything is ready, we’re just waiting on her now.”
“Putting that crib together almost made me cry,” Rey responds, and they all laugh, except Ben, but Rey can’t look at him just yet.
They make their way into the restaurant, Ben still silent as they hang their coats and make their way to the hostess.
“Welcome to The Castle. Do you have a reservation?” The hostess asks and Rey can feel her face redden as she responds.
“I had made a reservation for two under Niima, but I was hoping you have a free table for four?”
She can see Ben’s fists clenched beside her and ignores it while she waits for the hostess, who thankfully does have a bigger table and leads them to it.
The smell of garlic and bread permeate the air, making Rey’s stomach growl loudly.
“Holy shit Rey, you need to get that under control,” Hux responds with a laugh as they slide into the booth.
“She had to work through lunch- “
“I had to work through lunch- “
She and Ben say at the same time, looking up at one another with surprise. They each halt and lock gazes for a few moments. It’s okay, she tells herself as she looks into his warm coffee eyes, he still loves you, just not the same way you do and that’s okay.
“Jinx,” she smiles softly, breaking the silence and she watches him relax a fraction.
Rose distracts them all them, discussing the baby and Rey is eternally grateful to her friend as they order drinks.
She pushes the rejection down into the same box with all of her other hurts and closes the lid tightly, promising herself the rest of the weekend to have tequila, Thai food and The Office to mourn what never would be.
—-
She makes it through dinner hiding her wound. It still throbs but she manages to hide it beneath self-depreciating jokes and glasses of white wine to take the edge off.
Ben is quieter than normal, but Rose and Hux fulfil their duties as friends to ease the tension between the God Parents of their unborn baby.
Ben stands to go to the bathroom and Rose orders dessert and Rey finds she can breathe a little easier as he walks away.
“So, what the fudge is going on?” Hux demands to know as soon as Ben has left the room. Rey raises an eyebrow at the word fudge, and he rolls his eyes. “We’re trying to be good parents.”
“Was this supposed to be a date?” Rose asks Rey so softly that it almost makes Rey break, the tone gentle and maternal. Rey lets out a shaky breath and nods. “But Ben invited us.”
“Yeah,” Rey replies quietly.
“Oh honey, I’m sorry,” Rose whispers, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing.
“I thought we were on the same page,” Rey explains. “So, I went for it, you know? I guess we’re in different places.”
“Rey, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong,” Rose says, but before they can say anything else, Ben is back, and dessert is arriving.
He smiles at Rey softly as the waiter lowers a plate of cheesecake in front of him but then frowns when nothing in placed in front of her.
“You didn’t get dessert?” He asks, puzzled.
She shakes her head. “I’m full.”
He looks at her in bewilderment. “But you’re never full.”
She laughs and it sounds only slightly fake. “I’m not hungry, I swear.”
He drops it and everyone except Rey eats their dessert. She tries not to stare at the clock and orders her Uber before the waiter is even taking their plates.
Her Uber arrives as they’re putting their coats on and Ben speaks his longest sentence of the night. “Do you want me to give you a lift home?”
She is more than a little relieved to have an excuse. “My Uber is here.”
She thinks she sees his shoulders fall but knows she’s probably projecting as she rushes through goodbyes with Rose and Hux.
She hesitates slightly before hugging Ben and she sees him notice, frowning as his arms wrap around her. She tries not to inhale his scent, but the smell of peppermint, coffee and bergamot somehow make their way into her nostrils despite her efforts and she fights not to tighten her embrace.
It’s over in less than a few seconds but feels like forever when her arms drop.
She’s escaping into the Uber in almost no time at all, and the driver is pulling away from the curb by the time the first tear falls.
———————————————————————
In no time at all, the driver is pulling up the store at the corner of her street, wishing her a (very awkward) goodnight. She wipes her face before entering the store, taking measures and controlled breaths as she fills a cart with tequila, limes, ginger ale and all of her favourite snacks.
The owner, Maz, says nothing as she rings Rey up, taking in the tear stains on her face. “The alcohol is on me, honey,” the woman says, and Rey feels her eyes fill with tears once more.
She is able to keep a hold of herself as she walks to her building, letting herself in and taking the elevator to her floor.
She’s considering taking a shot or two to take the edge off when she looks up and sees Ben sitting with his back pressed against her door, legs stretched out in front of him. He has his phone in his hand, but he’s only turning it over and over.
Three shots then, she decides.
“Hey,” she says, and he looks up at her, eyes wide and she watches as he rushes to his feet, clearing his throat.
“Hi,” he replies softly.
“Can I get through?” She asks and he moves wordlessly, shuffling so that she can unlock her apartment door.
They both enter without saying a word and she carries her shopping to her kitchen island, dropping it, pulling out the bottle of tequila and making her way to the cupboard where she keeps her shot glasses. She takes one and Ben starts to talk but she raises a hand, meeting his eyes as she pulls the plastic from the lid, unscrews it and pours a shot.
He frowns at her as she lifts the small glass to her lips, downing the liquid and then taking a deep breath before meeting his eyes once more.
“Okay,” she says and watches as he swallows.
“It was supposed to be a date,” he says quietly, softly. She blinks slowly, before breaking eye contact and pours herself another shot. “You asked me on a date.”
“I asked you on a date,” she confirms, meeting his gaze for a tenth of a second before downing a second shot.
“You asked me on a date, and I invited our friends,” he states, and she flinches. He startles in response and takes a step forward.
The island is between them, but she takes a step back anyway. He notices.
“Sweetheart,” he says softly, and she stares at the heels still on her feet and avoids his gaze.
She hears him move closer and she looks up, her heart almost shattering at his expression.
He is looking at her like she once saw him look at a frightened dog in a shelter they volunteered at, like she was going to bolt any second. In his defence, she feels as though she might.
“Rey, I didn’t realise it was a date until I saw you,” he explains gently, taking another step forward. She takes another step backwards, her lower back pressing against her countertop. “I thought it was just another dinner, until I saw that dress. I didn’t realise it was supposed to just be you and me.”
His dark eyes are consuming as they bore into hers and she breathes unsteadily as she breaks his gaze to stare down at the bottle of tequila, wishing she’d just popped a straw into the bottle and called it a night.
He says nothing for a moment and neither can she. She isn’t sure that anything would even come out of her mouth if she did open it to speak. Her broken heart is pounding and she doesn’t know what to do.
“Rey,” he says softly and she closes her eyes, trying to hide the moisture in them, but a tear falls down her cheek anyway. She lifts a shaking hand to wipe it away.
“Rey,” he repeats, closer this time but she doesn’t open her eyes. She’s never felt like more of a coward.
She feels a warm touch on her chin. “Sweetheart look at me,” he whispers, in a soft, gentle tone she’d never heard him use before.
She opens her eyes and he’s there, so close she can feel the heat radiating from his body, can smell his minty shampoo that costs so much it had made him blush when admitting it.
He’s right there, and he’s looking at her with the softest expression on his face, his lips curved into the slightest of smiles. His hands move to cup her face, thumbs sweeping along her cheekbones.
“Rey,” he whispers, and the way he says her name threatens to break her apart for the second time tonight. “I never could have thought – I couldn’t imagine – I didn’t- “
She tries to move away but he doesn’t let her, a frustrated sound slipping from his lips. “I’m not explaining this right.”
“Ben, you don’t have to let me down gently,” she whispers hoarsely. “It’s okay if you don’t see me that way.”
He blinks and his head jerks in shock, hands twitching against her face. “See you that way?” he repeats, but it sounds like a question.
“Romantically, I mean. I’m happy to still be friends, if you’re okay with that. I don’t want to lose you from my life just because you don’t feel the way that I do.” The words hurt as they come out, but she can’t stop them or the tone of desperation that sneaks out with them. She can’t lose him.
“And how do you feel?” he asks her, in the tone she’s heard him use a hundred times before, when someone is pissing him off.
“How do I feel?”
His eyes narrow and his hands drop from her face to grab at her clenched fists. They open automatically at his touch and suddenly her hands are engulfed in his. “About me, Rey. How do you feel about me?”
There is no escape from this, she realises quickly. There is no way that he will let her avoid this conversation. Her hands tremble beneath his.
She looks at him, at the man who has become her best friend. His eyes are wide and bright, and she feels every blink a loss of their splendour. There has barely been a night in six months that she hasn’t dreamed about these eyes. They’d been the first thing she’d noticed about him the night that elevator had stopped and their gazes had locked, wide and alarmed.
“I love you, Ben” she says before she can stop herself, before she can filter it with something less permanent, something easier to take back.
He closes his eyes then, for three seconds that feel like lifetimes. She feels as though she has lived many lifetimes when he opens them again.
They are glistening with unshed tears.
“You love me?” his voice is hoarse, his breath jagged.
“Yes, but- “she isn’t able to finish, isn’t able to speak as his mouth presses against hers in a kiss her body has been waiting for for months. His mouth is soft, so incredibly gentle against her own and she cannot help the gasp that slips from her, her mouth opening beneath his.
He lets go of her hands and less than a second later they are sliding into her hair, at the exact moment his tongue is moving into her mouth, brushing expertly against her own.
She had spent long nights thinking about kissing Ben Solo, had run hundreds of scenarios of what kissing him would be like. Her most replayed had been wild, hungry. She had expected Ben to kiss her like he was starving.
The reality was Ben kissing her so carefully, his mouth sweeping against hers so intentionally, that she can feel herself starting to unravel. His tongue sweeps along hers in measured strokes that make her knees weak. He kisses her the way she once watched him eat an ice cream cone, so expertly that none had melted over his had the way that hers had. His hands are twisted in her hair and hers are tangled in his and she has never felt so alive.
He kisses her and she knows she’ll never be the same.
She had loved him before, as her friend, as her potential partner. But now, now she knew that the chemistry she had thought between them wasn’t the inferno she’d worried would set her ablaze, but instead a steady, intense heat that warmed her from the inside out. She was worried she’d be consumed by the flames, but instead, she knew that she could flourish beneath this sunlight.
He pulls her closer and she whimpers beneath his mouth, those careful kisses slowly pulling her to pieces. He pulls away then, pressing his forehead against her own as they each gasp for breath.
Her hands move from his hair to rest along his neck and she can feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, a pounding concerto to match her own.
He moves forward again, but instead of her lips, he kisses her cheeks, her nose, the corner of her mouth. Soft, whispers of kisses. Rey feels her eyes fill with tears once more. One falls and he kisses it away
“Rey,” he whispers, pulling back to look at her. His expression is open, happy, one he often wears when they are alone. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”
She blinks. Once, twice.
He smiles at her then, eyes alight with a tenderness that looks different than it did a moment ago, somehow.
She opens her mouth but nothing comes out and she closes it again, her thoughts a jumbled mess, trying to make sense of this new information.
I love you so much, sweetheart.
The words play over and over as he continues to watch her, smile still firmly in place.
“You love me?” she finally asks and she watches a tear fall from his right eye as he chuckles.
“I have been in love with you almost as long as I have known you,” he tells her, leaning forward to press more kisses against her skin. “Deeply, insanely, completely.”
He keeps kissing her and before she can stop herself, she can feel her lips lifting into a smile. He kisses the corners of her mouth.
“You love me even though I ruined your cashmere sweater by running it through the wash?” she asks, remembering the way he’d clenched his jaw when she’d sheepishly presented him with remains of the black mess.
“So much,” he tells her, moving his hands down to her neck, along her shoulders and down her arms until his hands are wrapped around her waist. She resists the urge to look down to see how far his giant hands reach around. She’s spent many a night wondering if his fingertips would touch at the back.
“You love me even though I threw out your suspicious smelling Vietnamese leftovers?” he asks her and her body shakes with her laughter. She’d been so mad at him.
“So much, Ben,” she says as he pulls back to smile at her. It’s both the same and different to every other smile he’s ever given her. She loves his smile, knowing that he doesn’t do it often makes her feel like she’s won something every time he gifts her with one.
“You love me even though I think red wine is abhorrent?” She remembers the look on his face when she’d spat out the sip he’d made her try all over his pristine kitchen counter.
“Even though,” he laughs, pulling her into his body, until almost all of her his pressed against him. She can feel the hardness between his legs against her stomach.
“You love me even though I didn’t realise tonight was a date and asked our friends to come? Even though I had thought for a second before realising there would be no way you’d want me like that, that maybe you did? Even though when I saw you on that sidewalk, I saw how beautiful you were and realised how much of a coward I’ve been since I realised how I felt about you?”
“You’re my favourite person in the world Ben,” she tells him softly. “There’s not a but here for me, no even thoughs. I love you as you are, for everything that you are.”
“I love you, too. For everything that you are.”
He kisses her again and for the first time in her life, Rey Niima has everything she has ever wanted.
The End.
Hey 👋🏻 it’s been a minute. Like a lot of people, TROS kinda felt like a kick in teeth for me and it’s taken me a while to get back into fic writing during COVID (I’m an essential worker, and it’s been tough). Anyway, this one was a bit long, but I hope you liked it. And I hope it made up a little for my absence ❤️
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Oooh! I haven't sent an ask in a long time. I was wondering how people were getting images in theirs. I just figured out you have to get to it from the drop down (new/ask/url) rather than the ask link (url/ask)
Anyway, here is the scene from the fic I finished last night, Heaven Sent, that I was trying to share but wouldn't fit in the ask box, in which Dean opens up to Cas. I hope you like it!:
“I always doubted myself...because of him…because of everything.”
Cas wrapped his arms more completely around Dean to comfort him, sensing the soul-searching Dean had done and attached to these words.
*I told myself it was all out of necessity, not just expectations, but – I think it was a bit of both. I was expected to be the hero, so I couldn’t want things for myself. Hunting meant we always had to be on the move, so getting to make real connections with people wasn’t possible. No matter how many people I slept with on the road, I never saw myself actually dating anyone during those years, because there was no opportunity to get to know anyone enough to trust them and feel that kind of connection. Maybe it’s all just trust issues, I don’t know. But I didn’t just meet people and want to open up to them at all. Sleeping with people was the only substitute I thought I could have in that life.*
*The only people I managed to get closer to, and see as someone I could date, all ended up getting hurt because of me. Like, with Lisa - * Dean paused for a moment, looking to Cas for reassurance of whether it was ok to talk about specific people in his past; he didn’t want to do anything to make Cas uncomfortable. Cas nodded. Of course he was ok with it. Even though they’d only officially been together for nine days, they had been close for over ten years, and had been in love for most of that time. Cas had been trying to get Dean to open up for a long time, and Dean had been coming to terms with everything and wanting to get this off of his chest.
*With Lisa, I think I gravitated towards her because I’d already gotten to know her a little bit, years earlier. It felt safer to begin there than to go into the unknown. But that only led to vamps ambushing her house. Even my first ‘serious’ partner, Cassie, from before I got too deep in The Life as an adult, got targeted by a ghost. Now that ghost had their own reasons; it wasn’t just following me to her. But still, hunting is what drove her off, and that’s why I believed I could not have a relationship. Because the idea that I could stop hunting to have a relationship never seemed like a real possibility. When Sam tried it, that gave me some hope; but it was more hope for him. That if I was hunting with John, Sam would be free to live his life. But then Azazel burst through and showed us both that it wasn’t possible.*
Dean swallowed; even though he wasn’t saying it out loud, this part was still hard to say, because it may still be a sore spot for Cas. *Every rejection also fed the idea that this was all because of who I am as a person. The only time I’d even felt free to actually try again was as a demon, free of moral inhibitions; but that also meant I was seeking out toxic relationships and being toxic in them; bonding over shared traumas but not actually doing anything about them. I was horrified looking back afterwards, not only about all of the things I’d done, but to know that my uninhibited bad side was so bad that even the so-called ‘king of hell’ thought I was too toxic. Or even Benny – when I’d eventually come to feel for him, I had to cut his head off. Even being human again, it all just reinforced the idea that I was unworthy of love.*
Dean looked directly at Cas now. *It took me too damn long to un-learn that idea. I love you; you know I loved you for years. You were one of the few constants in my life. The fact that hunting would never scare you off, obviously, and that I could trust you in a way I had been taught I could only trust my family; and just everything about you as a person, I … that scared me so much. Because I was so afraid of losing you, either by being myself and inevitably doing something horrible, or by putting you in danger. Every time you -* The tears which had welled up in Dean’s eyes began to roll down his cheeks quietly. Cas blinked back a few as he reached up and kissed Dean softly.
Dean skipped over the words he’d never been able to say. *Well when that happened, it seemed to prove me right. So, I didn’t open myself up to the possibility of hurting you more. But I also didn’t open myself to anything else, not really. I turned down handsome bartenders, hot waitresses, Aaron, heck even Amara, despite whatever fate supposedly said, because I love you and I didn’t want to hurt you either. I was doing better than I had in the past, but still believing I didn’t deserve your love.*
Dean let out a long breath and studied the sheets. He’d been holding a lot in, and now that it was easier to do, he’d spilled his guts so quickly. *I don’t want to burden you more with all of that. It’s my problem and I’ve been working on it as best as I can. I’m still getting used to loving you out loud.* Dean got quieter, but Cas could still hear him. *I hope that is enough.*
oh DEAN using his WORDS. a very specific soft spot of mine <3 thank you for sharing! definitely bookmarking your fic to read too :)
send me some shameless self-promotion, get a thing!
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Opposites Attract
Warren Worthington III x Female Reader
Request 1: Brooooo i’ve got a boyfriend was amazing! like you don’t understand how much i loved it. if you ever have time can you do like a continuation piece of fluff with warren and the reader or like when they met and became a couple? like same mutant and stuff
Request 2: Aww I loved the one shot with mother nature and Warren! I loved how her eyes turned pink, when she saw Warren! I'd like to know more about them. Could you give us a little fluffy glimpse into their relationship? Thank you, my dear! You're amazing! 💕
I also may make a little fluffy fic about these two later! (also i know I’ve used this gif before, oh well)
Warnings: Swearing and mentions of sex
Word Count: 7.9k
Ever since she was little, (Y/N) had a green thumb. Her parents had her play outside, help them do yard work, and she had her own collection of house plants from a young age.
It wasn’t until she started getting older that things started to change. Maybe be more than just a “green thumb.”
Leaves grew in her hair and vines wrapped around her legs. Her eyes started changing color based on her mood. She looked like a woodland creature.
-
With high hopes and her bags packed, she went to Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. To find someone like her, or just find a place to fit in.
Her eyes were green and she was ready to meet new people.
-
(Y/N) fit in great. Her roommate could control the weather, which made their room a true plant haven, and she had a whole group of friends— and if you asked, no one could find anything bad to say about her.
“She’s so sweet! She gave me some daisies when I was having a bad day.”
“(Y/N) helped me study for my math test. I got a 92 because of her.”
“(Y/N) threw a surprise party for my birthday. It was wonderful!”
Everyone liked her, and she liked everyone. Her eyes were almost always green and yellow— meaning she was happy and excited.
But one day they weren’t green and yellow.
-
“Alright, everyone. Your partner for the project is listed on the board. You can get to work.” (Y/N) looked over the list eagerly, excited for the inevitable mountain of work she’d be splitting with someone— it would be a good bonding experience.
Her eyes scanned the list until she spotted her name. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) & Warren Worthington.
(Y/N) glanced at him. Warren was pulling books out of his bag, earbuds in.
I don’t… I don’t know Warren that well. This will be a great opportunity for me. We have lots of mutual friends, so this should be easy.
“Hi.”
Warren paused his music and pulled out an earbud, “Hey.”
“We’re partners.”
“Right, right. Sit down.” She pulled up a chair and set her notebook on the desk. “So I was thinking since we have to talk about a political issue, we could do something that has lots of information available. Women’s rights, climate change, issues with the 1%, the problem with the rising trend of plant-based diets, mutant rights…” Warren didn’t say anything. He just listened. “We don’t have to do anything I listed, they’re just suggestions.”
“Okay… We could do something on mutant rights. That’s probably the easiest since we’re mutants.”
(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah, that works with me.” She wrote down their paper topic and the due date in her notebook. “I’m not sure if we’ll get enough time in class to work this week so I’ll give you my number.” Warren got on his phone and opened a new contact.
He held it out to you, “Here, just put it in.”
You took it from his hands and typed in your name and number. You handed the phone back to him and moments later you got a text from an unknown number.
UNKNOWN: This is Warren.
(Y/N): Hi! This is (Y/N)
He didn’t text back. “Okay, so I’m gonna make a google doc and share it with you.” Warren nodded.
(Y/N) had a small, lopsided smile on her face. “You don’t talk much do you?”
“I talk.”
“Yeah, but— I meant… Never mind.”
Warren raised his eyebrows. He knew exactly what she meant. But people weren’t supposed to like him. Warren was evil and scary. Sure, not as much as he used to be, but the school’s Disney princess didn’t need an interest in him. Jubilee and Jean would just yell at him for it, plus a good 30% of the school shipped her with Kurt, and he didn’t want to get in the way of that.
As the bell rang, dismissing everyone from their class, Warren noticed (Y/N)’s eyes were slightly different as she left his desk. They had a slight bit of pink to them.
What does pink mean?
-
“I think he hates me.” (Y/N) announced as she face-planted onto Jubilee’s bed, letting vines grow and cover her like a blanket.
“Who?” Jubilee asked.
“Warren! We’re partners for the history paper thing and he, I dunno— he didn’t seem to want to be my partner.”
Jubilee looked at her sulking friend, “That’s it?”
“I don’t get it! We’re in the same friend group, we probably have similar interests, and I’ve never been rude to him.”
“He’s probably just tired. School is stressful, and I’m sure he just doesn’t want more work on top of everything he already has to do. I’m sure you have nothing to do with it.”
(Y/N) groaned into the pillow, “I can’t get a bad grade, and if he doesn’t like me then that makes things awkward in our friend group.”
Jubilee laid next to her, face up. “It’s Warren… he’s… he’s got some trauma and other issues. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually… Not everyone’s going to break down their walls after one conversation.”
(Y/N) groaned against and wrapped her makeshift leave blanket tight around her body.
“I’m going to get some food… Please take your vines with you when you leave.”
“Yes, mom.” (Y/N) mumbled.
-
“What’s her motive?” Warren asked Peter. Peter shrugged. “There’s no way she’d be nice to me just to be nice.”
“I dunno, man. She’s nice to everyone, and I’ve never heard one bad thing about her. She yelled at me and her eyes turned red once, but that’s about it.” He took a bite of his sandwich, “Why do you even care anyway?”
Kurt and Scott sat down with them, interrupting their conversation.
“Shh! Not now…” Peter waved them off to make them silent. “Answer my question, Worthington.”
“Cause I’m not a good person. (Y/N) shouldn’t want to try and be my friend. Too many people would get upset about it. Do you know how many people want her to date, Kurt? Tiffany Jones DMed me on Instagram telling me to not ruin that. Tiffany Jones! We’ve never even spoken to each other! I didn’t even know she followed me.”
Peter held back an eye roll. Warren was a good person, despite his past. Would he ever realize this? Probably not.
“Okay well, (Y/N) is just kind to everyone. It fits her whole “Mother Nature” vibe she’s got going on. Just don’t be a dick to her and you’ll be fine.”
“She wants to date me?” Kurt asked and his cheeks were slightly violet and flushed.
“No, Kurt,” Warren interjected. “People want you two to date. It’s like Stranger Things— some people wanted Nancy to date, Johnathan, others wanted her to date, Steve. They shipped her with someone. People do it with you and (Y/N), and it’s kinda weird but to each their own, I guess.”
“Oh... But why me? Why not you or someone else?”
“Because you’re both liked by everyone, and you’re nice to everyone. I’m like... Rodrick from Diary of a Wimpy kid; (Y/N) is a Disney princess. We wouldn’t mix.”
Peter and Scott tried holding back snickers, as Warren was kinda right. He was a punk emo with daddy issues, and he wasn’t half bad with a drum set.
“Don’t opposites attract?”
Warren waved him off, “That’s a myth.”
Kurt shrugged, “Andy and April from Parks and Rec worked out.”
“They’re fictional, and (Y/N) could date almost any guy here. Why would she want to date me?”
Silence. “She doesn’t. End of story. She’s just overly nice and I thought for a moment maybe someone was forcing her to be or she like, wanted to sleep with me or something.” Warren shrugged, “I dunno.”
“You sound like the plot of a Tame Impala song.” Warren threw a grape at Scott’s head, missing him by an inch or so. “Hey! Just because I’m calling you out for obsessing over a girl doesn’t mean you can get mad at me. I could have gotten hurt!”
“Dude, it’s a grape. Plus you have glasses on. You would have been fine,” Peter said.
“It’s the matter of the thing.” Peter rolled his eyes at his roommate’s dramatics.
“You know I wouldn’t purposely hurt you.” Warren reminded him.
“Still… You can’t get mad because a cute girl is being nice to you.”
“I’m not mad, I’m confused. There’s a difference.”
Scott nodded mocking him by agreeing, “Uh-huh… And in about a week you’ll be gushing over how amazing she is and how you’d do anything for her, and how you could just watch her do nothing all day.”
“That’s you. You described yourself.”
Scott raised his eyebrows as he played with the fry in his hand. “And? I know I’m whipped, I don’t care— You on the other hand…” Warren glared at him. Scott smirked and popped the fry into his mouth.
“What color were her eyes when you talked to her?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know, uh, green? Aren’t they almost always green?”
Scott nodded, and Peter continued talking. “Yeah, but I was just curious. If she really didn’t want to be nice to you just because then maybe her eyes would have been like brown or something— I dunno. There’s a million different options.”
As Peter was going on and on about (Y/N)’s eyes changing color, Warren’s mind started to drift off to their interaction in class.
Her eyes were green, but they weren’t pure green…
“You don’t talk much do you?”
Warren’s eyes met hers, “I talk.”
“Yeah, but— I meant… Never mind.”
Her eyes were pink. Only for a little while, and Warren almost thought he imagined it— but he didn’t. There was no way.
But what did pink mean?
“What does it mean if her eyes turn pink? Like a millennial pink sort of.”
Peter furrowed his brows as he thought for a moment, “You know… I don’t know… I don’t think her eyes have ever turned pink before.”
“Oh.” Warren frowned a little. He was expecting Peter to know, or at least have a vague idea.
-
Warren was showering when his phone dinged. He only had sound on when he wasn’t 100% available, in case of an emergency.
He held his arm out to grab his phone and keep it from getting wet.
(Y/N): Hey, Warren!
He sighed, it was just (Y/N). Nothing major.
Warren: What’s up?
(Y/N): Want to work on the paper together? Ororo ran to the store with Raven so my room is available.
Warren debated for a few seconds whether or not he should go. He didn't have anything else to do, and it wasn’t that late.
Warren: Sure. I’ll be down in about 20 mins.
(Y/N): *thumbs up emoji*
Warren smiled to himself before finishing his shower.
-
(Y/N) tried to make the room look presentable as possible, which was hard to do with all the plants everywhere— on her side and Ororo’s.
There was a knock on the door. (Y/N) glanced in the mirror, making sure she didn’t look too frazzled. Then she opened the door to let Warren in.
His hair was damp and he smelt like a vanilla candle, he wore sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. One large enough to hide his wings in, so there were no holes cut in the back.
“Hi! I hope wasn’t interrupting you or anything…”
He shut the door behind him, “No, I was just in the shower.” He glanced around the room. Warren had been in it before, most of the time to hang out with Ororo, but he never really paid attention to (Y/N)’s half. Her side of the room was covered in fairy lights and plants. A lot of plants.
“Sit wherever you want. Just kinda ignore all the plants—“ Some of the vines hanging around her bed moved as she sat down.
“Okay.” He sat down in the desk chair.
“So… I got a couple of news articles dealing with mutant rights— one about the adoption laws varying from state to state… another about some of the protests in Chicago due to the girl with gills getting fired from her job…”
-
Surprisingly, Warren and (Y/N) finished their paper sooner than they thought they would. “I’m gonna send it to Jubilee so she can give criticism since she’s in honors.”
“Sounds good.” (Y/N) nodded, typing away on her laptop.
Then Warren’s stomach growled. He blushed.
“Sorry— I didn’t eat after training…”
“You skipped dinner?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t that hungry and I took a shower. I didn’t really eat lunch either… I’ve been kinda preoccupied—“
“What the hell?! You have to eat! Your body needs nutrition! You of all people should know that— you’re like, 90% muscle.”
“It’s just one time.”
“Doesn’t matter. Come on— we finished our paper. You’re getting something to eat.”
-
(Y/N) held Warren’s hand as she dragged him into the kitchen. They received a few weird stares, but it didn’t concern her.
How could Warren be so careless?
“Sit.” She pointed to a bar stool. “I’ll make something.” Warren nodded and sat down.
“Do you have any food allergies?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Great, I’ll make something basic.” (Y/N) looked through the fridge before settling on the cheese.
Grilled cheese is easy enough. Plus I can make myself one.
She turned on a stovetop and put the buttered bread on the pan.
She grabbed two plates from a cabinet using the vines from her arms— they extended to reach and wrap around the plates and set them on the table. Warren watched in awe. It looked effortless— kind of like when telepaths move things with their mind, they make it seem like anyone could do it.
“Does it take effort? Manipulating plants?”
(Y/N) shook her head as she set Warren’s sandwich on a plate, and got her’s onto the pan. “Not the vines on my body. Other plants, though, it depends. If I’m just moving a vine or tree branch out of my way, that’s easy, but to have a sapling grow into a fully formed oak tree? That takes a bit more energy. Sometimes in my sleep I accidentally cause plants to grow— I’ll wake up next to an apple tree, or even a pumpkin or watermelon.”
“Really?” He was surprised.
“Yeah. Also, the weather can affect me too. If it’s sunny out and the plants are thriving, I’m usually more awake and can do more without feeling weak, but if it’s cold and cloudy or even snowing, it takes a bit more effort.”
(Y/N)’s eyes were a vibrant green and yellow, you could tell she was excited to tell someone about her mutation. She looked genuinely happy to talk about it.
“That’s really cool. I didn’t know you could do all that.”
He swore her eyes flashed a bit of pink again, but it could have been the lighting.
“No one really asks… and besides, you can’t really use plants in the danger room.”
“I bet you could…” Warren offered. “If you found a way.”
She glanced down at her sandwich, “Maybe…”
“Can I ask you something else?”
She looked up and nodded. Her eyes definitely had some pink now. Warren didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to ask.
“What’s up with you and Kurt?”
“Oh— Oh, um, I mean it’s nothing.” Her eyes were purple as she spoke, “People started some rumors after I helped Xavier as his TA for Kurt’s English class, and no one wanted to read for Juliet so I read for her and people decided to ship us. We’re not actually dating.”
“That was a while back… people still haven’t let that go?”
She shook her head, “Plus, people think ‘Oh, Kurt’s so innocent, and (Y/N) is too. They’d make a great couple.’ Which is dumb because guys and girls can be similar and just be friends.”
“Yeah, but a lot of people want you guys together. I had a girl DM me on Instagram to not get in the way of it.”
(Y/N)‘s eyes widened in surprise, “What? Why?”
“I dunno. I guess she thought I’d pull off some like, fuckboy moves or something.”
“But you’re not a fuckboy! You haven’t even dated anyone since you came to school here— and I know that’s by choice. There’s at least twenty girls here who’d love to have your tongue down their throat.”
Warren blinked at her bluntness. He was not expecting that. “I mean… you’re not wrong…” He had a faint idea of who some of the girls were, but he figured ignorance was bliss. If he knew for sure who they were, Warren wasn’t sure he could look them in the eyes.
He cleared his throat, “Well, there’s a good number of guys interested in you… why aren’t you dating one of them?”
“I don’t want to. I mean sure, there’s tons of cute guys, but I just don’t think it would work out. Plus, too many people would kill them if they weren’t Kurt,” (Y/N) joked.
Warren smiled, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He got up, carrying his plate to the sink.
“I’ve also never had a boyfriend before.”
He looked at her, curious. “That can’t be true. You’ve never had a boyfriend before?”
“Nope. I’ve kissed people before and stuff… but, I dunno…”
“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing… Guys can be dumb as shit sometimes.”
(Y/N) laughed, “Trust me, I know.”
Warren rose an eyebrow while setting (Y/N)’s plate into the sink.
“Scott, a prime example of a dumb boy in a relationship.”
Warren snickered, “Super smart but dumb as shit check!”
(Y/N) shook her head, pretending to be disappointed but she had a smile on her face, “God we’re so mean.”
“A little, but it’s Scott… a little harmless teasing won’t hurt.”
“I guess so.”
Warren washed his hands and dried them with a towel. “Wanna go back up to my room? Or do something else?... It’s only 7:00.”
“Yeah, sure.”
-
Peter and Kurt were in Warren’s room, which he shared with Kurt, when he entered with (Y/N).
“And where have you two been?” Peter asked, pretending to act like a stern and concerned parent.
“We finished our paper and I made grilled cheese.”
“Grilled cheese, huh? No… ulterior motives?” Peter dragged out, just to tease Warren about his disconcerts from before. Warren flipped him off while (Y/N) wasn’t looking.
“What have you guys been up to?” (Y/N) asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“Not much. Jubilee asked us to help her organize the third grader’s field trip to the zoo for extra credit from McCoy.”
“Oh my gosh— I said I’d help her with that—“ (Y/N) looked at her phone and mumbled a curse. “I ignored her message…”
“Just tell her you were busy, I’m sure she won’t mind.” Warren shrugged.
“But I feel bad for ignoring her, plus the extra credit—“
“That you don’t need. Don’t feel bad, Jubilee forgets to respond to stuff all the time.” Warren walked over to his closet. “Are you gonna be okay if I take my shirt off?”
(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock and confusion, “Why— What— What, why are you stripping?”
She was sure her eyes were fully purple, I mean, come on! What kind of random question is ‘Are you okay with me taking my shirt off?’ Plus they were in Warren’s bedroom!
“I just don’t want to keep my wings restrained if I don’t have to… I usually don’t in my room, I’m shirtless most of the time.”
(Y/N)’s eyes flashed magenta for a moment as the thought of a shirtless Warren flashed through her brain for a second. She cleared her throat.
“Yeah, go ahead. I don’t mind.” He nodded and removed his hoodie off, tossing it on his desk chair.
“Well, Kurt…” Peter awkwardly spoke up. “I think Jubilee wanted our help with the field trip… And with some other stuff…”
“Vhat?”
“Remember?” He asked, motioning to (Y/N) and Warren with his eyes.
“Oh! Oh Yeah! Ve… Ve gotta go.” Kurt waved.
“Have fun, you guys!” Peter grabbed Kurt’s hand and they disappeared with a puff of smoke.
“Do they think— because we’re not— I don’t— You don’t—“
“Relax, (Y/N).” Warren chuckled. “That’s just Peter being Peter.”
“I suppose so…” She grew a flower in the palm of her hand and picked at the petals.
Warren plopped down next to her, “What do you want to do?”
She shrugged, “I’m not sure… We could… We could play never have I ever.”
Warren scoffed, “Never have I ever, with only two people?”
“It’s fun. More... intimate. Ororo and I used to do it a lot when she had trouble sleeping her first few nights here.”
“Are you trying to sleep with me?” He teased.
“What? No! No, no… Why are you laughing?”
“I was just joking. And you’re reaction was funny. Like we’d ever sleep together.”
She glanced at him, in a bit of disbelief of what he said. “Hmm?”
“I don’t think— Never mind.”
(Y/N) nodded awkwardly, trying to make herself not feel awkward. She didn’t want to make the situation weird, “I’ll start the game. Never have I ever ditched class.”
“I have.”
“I know, Jubilee tells me when you two skip to go thrift shopping or to the music store downtown.”
“You should join us sometime— Never have I ever cheated on a test.”
“I did once. One time! In third grade, I wasn’t sure how to spell vacuum so I looked at the girl next to me and copied what she put.”
Warren faked a gasp, “You trouble maker!”
“It was third grade!” (Y/N) tried to be defensive, but couldn’t hide the smile adorning her face as Warren teased. “My turn. Never have I ever… never have I ever… had a crush on a friend’s significant other.”
Warren hesitated with his answer. He didn’t really want to tell (Y/N). He didn’t have a crush anymore, and the girl knew— but her boyfriend didn’t. If he found out, Warren was dead meat.
“Who was it?”
“What?”
“The girl you had a crush on…”
“I don’t have a crush on anyone.”
“You were slow at answering. If you didn’t like anyone you wouldn’t need time to answer.”
Warren shot a dirty look at (Y/N). “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just curious—“
“Can we just forget it? She knows, and I don’t like her anymore.”
“Yeah, yeah… It’s uh, it’s your turn.”
Warren didn’t say anything.
“You can ask me whatever you want. No matter how personal it seems.”
“Alright… Are you a virgin?”
I did say he could ask me anything… Plus I did ask him a really personal question… “Yeah.”
“Oh…” Duh! She’s never had a boyfriend before. What kind of question was that, dumbass?
“I’ve never been in a relationship or had sex— I’m not a prude though, I’ve kissed people before. At like, spin the bottle at a party or something.”
“I respect that… Relationships are messy and honestly sometimes don’t seem worth it.”
“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded, fiddling with another flower she grew. “Kissing isn’t that great anyway.”
Warren involuntarily licked his lips, “What do you mean?”
“It’s either too short and awkward and you bump noses, or like, there’s too much force and pressure to it and the other person collides their teeth with your lips.”
“Jesus! Who are you kissing?”
(Y/N) chuckles darkly and shakes her head, “You don’t want to know.”
Warren smiled, “Yikes.”
They both laughed together.
When the laughter died down, Warren asked the dumbest question possible.
“Can I kiss you?” His voice was quiet, soft— different from how it was moments before.
“What?”
“I’ve been told I’m a good kisser…” He awkwardly explained. “I could show you… Change your mind?”
“Change my mind?”
“It could stay between us… It doesn’t even need to have any meaning behind it.” Warren scooted himself so he was sitting face to face from (Y/N). He looked up at her eyes trying to figure out what she was thinking. Her eyes flashed from yellow to pink, then purple. He wasn’t sure what the colors all meant. He made a mental note to learn what they all stood for.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
She nodded, “Change my mind.”
Warren cupped her face in his hand. “Are you really sure about this?”
“Yeah…”
“Alright.” Warren tilted his head to the left a little, to prevent his nose from bumping into (Y/N)’s. He pressed his lips gently against hers. Warren used his other hand to cup the rest of her face. Their lips moved together in perfect motion. A warm feeling formed in Warren’s stomach, and he carefully removed his lips from (Y/N)’s.
It was rather brief, but enough to show (Y/N) what she’d been missing.
“Wow…” Her eyes were pinker than before. Warren’s face was flushed, but he ignored it.
“Wow?”
“Yeah, um… wow. That was… That was nice.”
“Mhmm…” Warren wasn’t sure what to say. Yeah, he was a good kisser, but the kiss didn’t mean anything. It was just showing (Y/N) that not everyone sucks at kissing. The pink in her eyes just meant she was flustered and nothing else. She wasn’t going to crush on Warren, and he wasn’t going to crush on her.
-
(Y/N) left after that. She didn’t know what to do. She’d heard rumors about Warren— saying he was a player, a heartthrob, didn’t care about anyone but himself— (Y/N) couldn’t find that to be true. Sure, if she caught feelings she would get hurt because Warren didn’t like her back… but he wasn’t an asshole.
She sighed, slipping into pajamas. It was easy for everyone else, (Y/N) had no complications with anyone else, everyone liked her and she liked them. She’d only gotten mad at someone once and it was Peter… but Warren… Warren was different.
Something drew (Y/N) in, and she couldn’t figure out what. Perhaps, despite their differences, they could be good friends.
As she got under her covers, she sprouted some poppies to help her sleep.
-
The paper was a huge success! Warren and (Y/N) got a 98% on it.
“We should celebrate!”
“What for? You did most of the work.”
“That’s not true, and besides, I’ve had a tiresome week and I want to relax.”
Warren shrugged, “Sure. What’d you have in mind?”
-
“Why are we in the attic?”
“I thought we could watch a movie or something. Ororo and I have been using it as a greenhouse of sorts, but we haven’t grown enough plants yet.”
“Yet?!” Warren gaped. The attic was like 80% plant, 20% building, and here (Y/N) was, saying there’s no such thing as too many plants.
She smiled, setting down her laptop and some blankets, “Duh!” (Y/N) messed with her laptop for a few minutes before pulling up Netflix.
“You can pick something out.”
“Anything?” (Y/N) nodded. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” She was off to the side, messing with a plant. “If you don’t see anything you like, I have Hulu too.”
“Netflix is fine.”
(Y/N) came back and sat next to Warren. “Find something good?”
“Uh, yeah— yeah.” She peered over his shoulder to see.
“Ooo! The Addam’s family! I love that movie.”
“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid. I barely remember the plot.”
“Oh, it’s so good! You’re gonna love it.”
(Y/N) pressed play and got comfortable under the covers. Warren did the same.
-
The movie was good. Warren really enjoyed it.
“What’d you think?” (Y/N) was excited in asking him.
“It was good! Like, really good.”
“Yeah! I really liked Gomez and Morticia and their relationship, even if it is unrealistic… Also for the 90s, the effects for Thing were really good!” Warren nodded, slightly frowning when she talked about Gomez and Morticia’s relationship.
Is that really what she thinks? Is that why she’s single?
Why— Why do I even care?! It’s not like I like her or anything.
“Yeah, yeah… We should uh, get going—“ He glanced at the laptop, “—before people ask where we are.”
“Right! Right… I can get it, no biggie.”
“Sure you don’t want any help?” (Y/N) shook her head. Warren couldn’t help but notice she had a shift in demeanor. Her eyes were fully purple, with pink slowly fading around the pupil. He kept quiet and followed (Y/N) out of the attic.
“Are you going to the mall Friday?” He asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah.” Scott wanted the group to do something fun for once— plus it was one of the few options Xavier approved of. “Are you?”
“Uh-huh. Peter suggested we go see a movie or something.”
“Yeah, that could be fun. Scott will wanna hit up the arcade but that’s typical.”
They stopped at her door— (Y/N) obviously struggled to open it due to the unwieldy stuff in her arms. “Here— I got it,” Warren opened the door and let her go forward.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll see you later.”
“You’re leaving?” Warren felt his chest ache, but he dismissed it as nothing. He ate at Five Guys with Jubilee and Kurt the other day.
“Yeah, I have some homework… Sorry…”
“You’re okay. I’ll… see you later.”
Warren smiled and said, “Bye,” before shutting the door behind him. When he was gone, (Y/N) sat down and leaned against the door and sighed.
She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t know what to do or what to say— she wanted to kiss him again.
No— You can’t kiss him. Warren doesn’t like you.
She pushed the dirty thought aside and flopped onto her bed, covering herself in ivy to lay and let the sun come through the window.
-
Warren was in Hank’s lab, just for a medical update. Alex was there as well, as he’s never too far away from Hank.
“Any trouble with your wings?”
“Not really. The feathers grow back metal and they’re heavy. They’re easier to clean than my old ones, but I sometimes miss a spot.”
Hank nodded, skimming some papers. “Do you want someone to help you clean your wings?”
“No! No way,” Warren rose his voice defensively. “I’m not comfortable.”
“Maybe if you had a boyfriend or girlfriend to help out,” Alex offered.
Warren rolled his eyes, “Well, I don’t have one and there’s no one here I want to date anyway.”
Alex smiled to himself, “You mean there’s no one here who you think likes you, so you pretend to not be interested.”
“Since when did you become my psychiatrist?” Warren squinted.
“Since your movie date.”
Hank glanced at Alex for a moment before going back to his paperwork, “What movie date?”
“The one he and (Y/N) had yesterday—“
“It wasn’t a date. She just wanted to hang out some more since we finished our paper for English.”
“Mhmm…” Alex didn’t believe it.
“I’m serious! We are literally in the same friend group, we’re going to hang out together.”
“What Peter’s been telling me is different.”
Warren almost scoffed in disbelief, “You’re really going to trust Peter over me on this?”
“No, but Peter told me you asked what it means when her eyes turn pink.”
Hank stopped his work and was fully listening to the blondes argue— “(Y/N)’s eyes have never been pink before, well, not many shades of pink. What was it?”
“Um… It was only for a moment,” Warren mumbled. “It could have been the lighting or whatever…”
“No, no, this is really important. I like to keep a note of what each of her colors mean. Even if you just saw her eyes flash, I need to know when, why, and what shade of pink.”
“It’s happened a few times, but never for very long… it’s usually a millennial pink… Um, I don’t think it’s happened around anyone else before because no one else knew what I was talking about when I asked…”
“How often have her eyes turned pink? What were you guys doing when they turned pink?”
Warren thought back to all the times he swore her eyes turned pink. Nothing huge… Just when we were in class or whenever we’ve hung out this week. Nothing too special— Oh.
Warren realized something. Something he maybe shouldn’t have.
Her eyes were fully pink when we kissed… I— I can’t tell Hank and Alex that! They wouldn’t understand and they’d think we’re into each other. Which we are not… Well, I don’t think I’m into (Y/N), but now I’m not sure if she likes me or not.
“Just during class, when we’re alone, just like, whenever we’ve hung out this week. I don’t think it means anything really.”
“You never know, Warren.”
He nodded, “Right, right… Am I uh, am I free to go?”
“Yeah, you’re fine, you’re wings are fine. You can access your medical file if you want the details.”
“Great. Thank you.” Warren hopped off the bed and walked out.
-
What am I going to do?! (Y/N) might like me! Now I have to put in effort and not seem like a total burnout around her. She’s got high expectations and standards and I’m fucked!
Wait… Warren sat there, confused. Why did he care if (Y/N) liked him?
If I accidentally break her heart, everyone will actually kill me and... I kind of give a shit for once. That’s all…
Warren got his phone out and opened his messages. He opened his conversation with (Y/N). The last thing she sent him was an old picture of Alex she found in the library.
He typed out hey, ready to send it, but his thumb hovered over the little arrow. What would he even say to her? What if she didn’t respond? What if she actually hated him and that’s what the pink meant? He turned his phone off and set it on his bed. Warren flopped onto his mattress and buried his face into his pillow.
-
(Y/N) was studying with the other girls. They were reviewing for McCoy’s bio test and she was busy writing down answers for her study guide.
“Who’s going to the mall Friday?” Jubilee asked out of the blue.
Jean started listing off people, “Scott, Peter, Kurt, us—“
“Warren’s going! He told me,” (Y/N) spoke up.
“He is?” Jubilee asked. “He didn’t say anything to me.”
“I asked him yesterday.” (Y/N) had a smile on her face.
“When?” Ororo got out a pack of gum and offered Jean a piece.
“We were up in the attic watching a movie.”
Jubilee eyed her, “You guys did what?”
“We just watched the Addams family. Warren and I are friends.” (Y/N)’s tone was slightly defensive.
“Your eyes are pink,” Jean stated.
“What?” (Y/N) quickly looked at herself using her phone’s front camera. “Oh my god—it’s— they’ve— they’ve never been pink before. I don’t know what—“
“Think for two seconds. Who are we talking about?”
Jean! I don’t— I don’t like Warren! Not as a boyfriend. He’s not my boyfriend and he doesn’t want to date anyone.
She smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“I just really like the fact we’re friends now. That’s all. I’m not in love with him or anything…”
What if my subconscious does love Warren? I doubt it. I think I would know if I was in love.
“And anyway, it’s just a coincidence. They’ve never been pink before so I’m sure finally being friends with Warren just—“
“They’ve been pink before,” Ororo spoke up.
(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock. “What? When?”
“I don’t know when exactly, but Peter told me Warren was asking about it a few days ago.”
(Y/N) was trying not to freak out. “Why was he asking?”
“Didn’t say, but I bet he saw your eyes flash pink or something.”
“Oh my god…” (Y/N) was horrified. Warren knew. He knew! He knew how she felt and he would probably never speak to her again or break her heart and (Y/N) couldn’t live with either of those options. She didn’t want the first person she’d ever had a real crush on to find out. Warren didn’t want to date anyone! He told her this, right before they kissed in his bedroom…
(Y/N) buried her face in her hands and groaned. She didn’t know what to do— by this time tomorrow, everyone would know she likes Warren. The embarrassment, the rejection, the humiliation, the—
“Hey, babe. Here’s your textbook you left in my room.”
(Y/N) looked up and saw Scott giving a book back to Jean. She looked at his face.
Of course! Scott wears glasses all the time so it’s harder to know what he’s thinking!
“Scott—”
He turned to face (Y/N). “Yeah?”
“Do you have a spare pair of glasses?”
“Um… I just have my visor. Why are you asking?”
She waved him off, “Never mind. Jubilee, can I borrow your sunglasses?”
“Sure, why?”
“I need to cover my eyes. Just for a while. Until this whole, “pink eye” thing stops happening.”
“Pink eye?” Scott asked, furrowing his brows.
“It’s— It’s nothing, trust me. Warren and I are becoming closer and I’m just happy.”
“Your eyes turn pink when you’re around Warren?” Scott was trying to hide his emotions, for his mind was zooming with thoughts.
“And when we talk about him,” Jubilee teased.
“You know,” Scott pondered, “He was asking about that the other day…”
(Y/N) tensed. Warren had to know. There was no way he didn’t. “He was?”
“Yeah. What does it mean?”
“It means—”
“—It means,” Jubilee cut her off, “(Y/N)’s got a thing for Warren.”
(Y/N) shook her head, “I do not!”
“Yeah, you do,” Ororo said offhandedly.
“It doesn’t matter, okay? I just need some sunglasses to hide my eyes so people don’t know what I’m feeling all the time. Have you ever thought maybe I don’t like being an open book?” The last sentence came out harsher than expected. Everyone was shocked, how could (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the flower child, be so angry?
(Y/N) looked down, embarrassed from raising her voice, “I didn’t mean to snap at you guys…”
Jubilee spoke over her, “It’s okay. I’ll get you my sunglasses.”
-
Everything was darker, but that was the purpose of sunglasses, to block out the sun. (Y/N) didn’t mind much, but it was sometimes hard to read text on the board and her eyes hurt by the third period.
“How do you do this every day?” She asked Scott as they walked down the halls to their next class.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Oh…” (Y/N) glances down at her feet wide-eyed with guilt. “Right…”
“I know you’re doing it for other reasons, but I think it’s cool you’re wearing sunglasses all day. I don’t feel alone.”
“I can— I can still see color though.”
“Yeah, but not as well. Sometimes I feel lonely when everyone talks about colors— the sunset, the fruit at the grocery store— hell, I even miss seeing the green grass! The grass!”
“That must be hard.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel pity, even though she knew that Scott didn’t want it. “I don’t think I could ever imagine living in just red…”
“Sometimes…” Scott sheepishly began, “Jean uses her powers and I can see color for a little bit, but it’s from her point of view, and it’s hard for her. She can only do it for a minute or two, and I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Aww,” (Y/N) cooed. “You’re so sweet.”
“Shut up!” A blush covered Scott’s cheeks and he got quiet for a moment.
“So you and Warren, huh?”
(Y/N) groaned, “Why am I talking about this with you?”
“Because I’m your only guy friend in a relationship,” Scott offered up as a question.
She huffed. Scott was right. “Fair point… It’s just… I don’t know… I don’t think he likes me back—which is fine— I just don’t want him to be uncomfortable when he finds out I like him.”
Scott furrowed his eyebrows, “When he finds out?”
“Pink eyes,” (Y/N) deadpanned. “remember?”
“Right, right… but how do you know he doesn’t like you back?”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “We can’t have a telepath in our relationship.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jean probably knew you liked her the whole time before you dated.”
“Hold on! She never read my mind— we made a promise—“
(Y/N) crosses her arms and stopped for a moment, “Mmhmm. All I’m saying is, there’s no mind reader between me and Warren. I can’t tell, and he doesn’t know yet… besides, he told me himself, we wouldn’t work out. We’re too different, and too many people want me to date, Kurt…”
“Opposites attract.”
“No, they don’t… At least that’s what Warren said…”
“Okay, listen— Warren is the dumbest person I know.”
(Y/N)’s mouth gaped, “Warren’s not dumb, he’s in two AP classes and speaks multiple languages.”
“What—“ Scott squinted, “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You said Warren was dumb. I said he wasn’t.” (Y/N) awkwardly crossed her arms.
“What I meant was, Warren’s being stupid. Thinking he’s not good enough for anyone, how he thinks he’s too punk for you. It’s obvious!”
“What is?”
“Warren likes you.”
-
(Y/N) stood there, in shock. She didn’t know what to do.
Warren liked her. Allegedly.
“How— How do you know that?”
“You can just tell. It’s obvious.”
Maybe… “Oh…”
A teacher down the hall scolded some students for loitering in the hall. “We better get to class,” Scott motioned to the kids with his head.
“Um, yeah. We should get going…” (Y/N)’s eyes flashed to purple.
-
Warren saw (Y/N) in the afternoon. She had on sunglasses, and her hair was slightly messy. She looked hungover, but Warren knew that wasn’t her, partying her nights away, (Y/N) was the perfect princess— and Warren? Warren was John Bender from the breakfast club, except he wasn’t in a John Hughes movie, and he didn’t get the girl and have a half-assed happy ending.
But back to (Y/N).
“Hey, Shades.”
“Hi.” She was curt. Did Warren do something wrong?
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah!” She seemed nervous. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’re wearing sunglasses…” He pointed out. “Inside…”
“Yeah?.... I’m just… I just…” She struggled to come up with an answer.
“Hungover?” Warren suggested.
“Pfft… No. I don’t… I don’t really…”
Warren nodded, “Right, right. I don’t really either, but I used to so…”
“I’m trying to hide my eyes.”
Warren turned face to face with (Y/N), blinking in surprise.
“Why?”
“Reasons…”
“What kind of reasons?”
“I just don’t want people to read me like a book…” (Y/N) was lying. Partially.
“Oh… I mean, not everyone knows what your eye colors mean.”
“Most people do. And if they don’t they ask.”
Warren winced. She knew he asked about the pink eyes. She was going to think of him as some nosy, pitiful, boy with daddy issues. “People are gonna think you’re hungover.”
“Three already asked.”
Warren smiled to himself, he found it almost funny. “Why’re you trying to hide your emotions?”
“I like someone.”
The three words froze in his mind.
(Y/N) liked someone. Someone who was normal, probably. Someone the student body approved up. Somebody who hasn’t killed people and looks like a nightmare.
“Oh.”
He couldn’t see the concern in her eyes when his face obviously fell.
“Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll see you later.”
Warren nodded awkwardly, “Yeah. See you later…”
-
The mall trip was awkward. (Y/N) had her glasses on still and half of her friends didn’t know why, and Warren was sulking because of (y/N)’s mystery lover.
“So, (Y/N)...” Peter drawled out. “What’s with the sunglasses? You trying to copy Scott?”
She laughed a little at his joke. “Not really…” Peter raised his eyebrows, silently pressing for details. “I just don’t want people to see my eyes. That’s all.”
“Why? Is it because they’re… pink?”
Damnit, Peter! Warren cursed to himself. You had to bring it up. Rub it in my face that the Princess found her Prince Charming.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” (Y/N) glanced at Warren for a moment as he listened to Jubilee ramble on about some girl she met at a thrift store.
“Why?... Because you’re in looove?”
(Y/N) swatted his arm. “I am not!”
“Oh, but I know that's not true.” Peter pouted and bat his eyes.
“Fuck off.”
“Woah! Didn’t know Snow White knew such naughty words.”
Warren grimaced, Peter was pushing her buttons and Warren wanted to strangle him, but he wasn’t that guy anymore.
Borderline mullet, feathery white wings, and an adrenaline rush with the ability to punch everyone within five feet in front of him.
Now he was a gang looking member, with trauma, and recovering from bad habits. Don’t mention that he was in love with Mother Nature.
Warren was so lost in his own words that he didn’t even notice Peter and (Y/N) bickering.
“Stop it—“
The glasses fell. And then the unexpected happened.
Jubilee stepped on the sunglasses. They cracked under her heel.
“Oh shit! Aw, man!” Jubilee didn’t even care, they were her glasses. She got them at five below for three dollars two years ago. Jubilee picked up the broken shades and looked them over.
“Oh well. They were cheap anyway.” Jubilee tossed the remains in the trash and didn’t even give it a second thought.
Warren looked at (Y/N) and they made eye contact. Her eyes flashed purple, maroon, and they settled on pink. Full-on rose gold, soft-blushing pink.
There were flowers in her hair and they retracted into buds— a defense mechanism— she was scared, but wouldn’t break away from him.
Everyone looked at them like one looks at a car wreck or a burning building.
Warren glared at them. “Alright, um, let’s go to Barnes and Noble…” Jubilee dragged everyone away, leaving Warre and (Y/N) behind.
“Were you hiding your feelings from me?”
She nodded, “I didn’t want you to know, though.”
It finally all clicked in Warren’s mind. She wanted to hide her emotions from him because she was into him, and everything he said about them “not being compatible, people don’t ship us, the kiss was only platonic”. “I get it.”
“I want you, but I…”
“I made up bullshit to push you away because I was scared… You’re way out of my league and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t care…” She stepped closer to him. “I’d kiss you right now, but we’re in public…” Warren quickly cupped (Y/N)’s face and left a peck on her lips.
Even a quick kiss from Warren was better than anything from a boy at a crappy house party.
“Do you want to go to find our friends?”
“Yeah, yeah. We probably should.”
-
Warren wasn’t sure at what point her hand slipped into his and held on, but he didn’t move away either.
Something in one of the shop windows caught his eye though.
It was a book. Titled, Olympus Gods or something. It made a light go off in Warren’s mind, but he couldn’t figure it out.
What, why does— Then he saw a Harry Potter toy. The three-headed dog, Fluffy or something.
Who else had a three-headed dog?
“Hades…”
“Hmm?” She looked at Warren with confusion.
“Hades and Persephone— plant goddess and goth guy.”
She got the hint right away, and nudged his arm with her elbow, “Dork.”
Warren blushed, “Yeah, yeah… just shut up,” He joked.
#warren worthington iii x reader#warren worthington x reader#warren x reader#warren worthington iii#warren worthington#angel x reader#angel archangel#archangel x reader#ben hardy#ben hardy x reader#x-men x reader#x-men spinoff#hades#persephone#angel#archangel#ben jones x reader#ben jones
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