Tell us about Ya Boy Saanvi, what are the basics? Their race, their planet? Is their race rare? Do they speak galactic basic, or do they have a native language?
This is just what I have so far bc obviously I haven't written anything of substance 🙃
• Saanvi is an Alien in my Mandalorian AU- from an ancient race I have yet to name so bare with me. They have much in common with our Yodito which scares and comforts them. Such as being 'magical creatures', living extraordinarily long lives, and possibly being one of the last of their kind.
^At the time of my writing Yodito is still in his 50s and Sannvi is about 100 years old.
•They have melaninated skin in various shades(ie birthmarks, possible vitiligo) with dark auburn hair.
•The story goes that they posses powers others found valuable and were enslaved:
•^A small percentage of this race lose their sight at a young age but gradually gain the ability to ~sense~ the emotions of others. These children would've been taught how to hyper focus their hearing and echo-locate. *Saanvi was only given a small portions of these lessons before their teacher was taken,forcing them to teach themself.
•^Saanvi's race have naturally golden coloured eyes but those who have 'The sight' have Iris' who appear to be taken over with gold crust/specks.
•{ [(A sad detail about the enslavement: Those with Sight who refuses to do their masters bidding often had their eyes plucked out and were left to fend for themselves alone on another planet- often eyes were used as Trophies and even jewellery.)] }
•Saanvi speaks basic just like the rest of their planet, but has been known to dabble in various other languages if given enough time. They have a (stolen) repurposed Prowler droid as a "seeing eye bot" and given that She is their only friend has learned to communicate with her in basic Binary.
•Rumour has It that Saanvi's race could sense a rare ability in creatures (now known as The Force)and therefore predict how powerful the user would be. They were carried off across the universe to identify these users so they can be killed or converted.
@joioliviapolaroid I saw the Sephiroth big-bro anon post and thought of this but I got off track?
-Sephiroth gets sent to Wutai. Its basic hand-on recon, since they've had a hard time getting successful double-agents into the populace the normal way, and they need to make sure nothing drastic has changed in the last few months.
-Gets kicked in the face by a small child almost seconds after stepping off the transport vehicle. The foot is so small its like getting hit by a baseball. All in all, he was expecting worse. It will bruise tomorrow.
-The kid is relentless but hes used to dealing with people like Genesis so this is not really that annoying. At least this girl isn't quoting dumbassery at him.
-After a few hours of shoddy traps, make-shift projectiles and being called a 'stupid poopyhead' Sephiroth actually find himself amused by this. He throws a ration at where he knows she is (shes wearing blue and gold and tried hiding in a mostly-dead bush) and she throws back the wrapper with a rock in it with surprising precision, and if Sephiroth didn't have superhuman reflexed he'd probably have a chip in his eyebrow.
-The entire land is just forests and cliffs. Sephiroth is not used to this. He has pleanty of training and knows how to survive, but he has spent the majority of his life in fully-concrete areas. He can understand how this tiny child is so relentless if she has grown here, even if she hasn't been trained (though he doubts she hasn't been given some training...if not, this kid is a genius). He spends more time learning from observing her than he has in formal instruction class. Hes a bit jealous of how small she is, things would be alot easier if he were than short.
-In a moment of distraction she manages to whip him in the face with a tree branch. Sephiroth doesn't blush but his embarassment is apparent. Shes laughing quietly and he should be man, but he knows he probably looks a mess, his once-pristine hair now full of leaves and thorns. He continues his walk, knowing he will just waste time if he tried to preen. Her giggles bubble up every few minutes just looking at him.
-He makes basic camp after an hour and begings removing the mess in his hair. While hes busy she actually manages to get close enough to try and steal his sword. Shes staring at the sword and he swats her away, and she just look so offended he cand actually contain his laughter as she scurries back into the wilderness. He can see her glaring at him through the leaves as he regains his composure.
-When night is upon them he throws a rolled up blanket in her genral direction with another ration. He wishes he had better food than military rations-maybe theres something he can hunt that won't distract from his mission too long. He managed to react in time to catch the opened ration. She just yells ''gross'' and Sephiroth sniffs it and smiles. Its probably way too bitter for a kid. He looks through his pack and pocks out the same type of ration as the first time and sends it flying without even looking. He gets a ''better'' in response and feels way happier than he expected just from that. Its like feeding a stray cat, except the cat wont stop hissing and scratching.
-He manages to wake up before her (he always wakes up before everyone. His system just doesn't work like a normal person. Hes used to it) and manages to forage food in the general area. Good thing about forgests like these is thats there just a whole buncha stuff to harvest if you know whats what.
-He just leaves it in one of the multiuse bowls at the border of his tiny base. He takes his time to organise his pack and by the time hes done the bowl is empty and he picks it up and leaves. He was honestly expecting to be pelted with the berries at least.
-He was right to expect it. He manages to grab all of them in his fest hand and he can her be both awed and frustrated. He throws them back at her and she flails wildly to not get hit. Shes mostly successful, but one hits her right in the jaw and she growls away for a few hours.
-Sephiroth finds himself more worried about her than his survey. He notices a floor pattern disturbance and picks up a rock then throws it a little further in front. The entire floor there collapses into a pit. ''Oh come on! That was a perfectly good trap you ruined, idiot!'' He smirked like an idiot as he sideskirts the trap and halfway past the hole he gets rammed right in the ribs by a basketball-sized projectile made of bark and stones and fabric. He stumbles and almost fall, but managed not to. His entire jacket and trousers are now covered in mud and dirt. Comes with the job, I guess.
-Shes gone again. He can feel her glare though, but shes definately upped the stealth now. Hes kinda proud, shes already picked up a new strategy against him.
-He manages to hear quiet zoom the arrow and parries it away with his stupidass sword. As he walks forward he gets short a few times until he sees one section of makeshift path. He knows its a trap. He knows its recent and she made it but oh my god hes not backing down from this challenge. He doesn't know why but it feels more important to beat this trial that whatever he was sent here for.
-She somehow set up a constantly-shooting system along the walls. It takes Sephiroth around ten minutes to pass the trial and he now has a bunch of holes in his clothes and even a few scratches on his hands and face. They're relatively minor- hes lucky this kid is just a kid and not an adult with alot more malice. Surprisingly interesting to go through. Probably could have beat it immediately if he just used materia, but that would have ruined the fun.
-He continues his mission though. Its not a pleasure trip, he cant spend all his time playing games. He wishes he could, and that surprises him. Maybe once he gets back he can...he doesnt know, adopt someone maybe? Or be a mentor to some idiot teen back at home base. Angeal has one of those and he seems pretty happy about it, even if he doesnt try to play it cool and complainy most of the time.
-He manages to fulfil his missions goal while dodging more projectiles and traps. When hes leaving he leaves behind all his rations and a paper with ratings for all the traps and attacks. It feels silly but it would feel weird not leaving any feedback. He hopes this kid has a family or something- shes certainly capable of surviving in the wild, but having a family is probably better. Not that Sephiroth knows what a family is like much.
-Angeal is more than surprised that Sephiroth wants to try being a mentor. Not that Sephiroth hasn't taught recruits, all of them had, it was just very out of the blue for him. ''You went on a recon mission and now you want to be someones dad.'' Despite the taunting, Angeal sets it up for him to get someone with potential.
-They give him Reno. Angeal says ''he kinda looks like genesis is you squint'' Sephiroth doesn't even know what to answer him as he watches the redhead unsuccessfully try and flirt with Angeal's protege, Zack. Hes not sure he knew what he was getting into.
Notes: PFFT This is a pairing I never thought I’d be writing, but I saw this odd/hilarious/cool post about how to woo Leviathan. Like, this small idea took off in my head and the only way to get it out was to write it. (This is all @joioliviapolaroid‘s fault pfft, hope you don’t mind I wrote this.)
Summary: You’ve spent your life in love with the sea, and she just happened to like you enough not to kill you on sight the first time you met. 2969 words.
It started when you were young.
At the time, you were a child playing in the ocean. The waves pushed at your shins as you danced in the tide. The water was a soundless song, the tempo dictated by the moon’s cycle. Part of you wondered why the water followed it so closely, but the rest of you didn’t want to think, enjoying the water in the way only a child could. You saw beauty and peace where adults would look at the waves with fear.
Maybe that’s why you saw her.
Playing in the water had caused you to lose track of time. The sun was almost all the way down, and moon just beginning to rise. A rare twilight, where both moonlight and sunlight met on the beach. What pulled you out of your revelry was the sight of a woman in the water as you were. Only she wasn’t dancing. She stood still and looked to the horizon.
She was gorgeous, in a way you couldn’t quite name. Her skin was dark, the color of sharp rocks near the cliff, darkened by the water that was constantly sharpening their points. A rich black that could only come from the combination of earth and sea. Across her body were bright blue tattoos. So reflective was the ink, it was as if the waves depicted on her were taken right from the sea in the middle of a bright sunny day. Her face was warm and strong, and her eyes were hard. But not cold. Rather, they were deep. Dark and soothing. There was no other way to describe them. And her dress blended seamlessly with the sea foam at her ankles, flowing around her legs as if there was a gentle breeze.
And while she was so gorgeous, you were a child. So the only thing you fixated on was the bright red flower tucked behind her ear, held in place by her many braids. It didn’t take long for you to walk up to her, and while normally, the sight of another person to play with would have brought you running, something inside you told you to walk. To be on your best behavior. And upon reaching her, she turned to look at you, a subtle look of surprise on her face. With her eyebrows slightly raised, she knelt in the water to be on your level.
“Hi.” You said softly, shyly, which was out of character for you. “Why do you have that flower in your hair?”
She tilted her head slightly, and seemed to regard you with rarely used curiosity. When she spoke, it was the same song of the tides that met your ears.
“It was made for me, and so it is my favorite.”
And with that, she rose back to her feet, seemingly having sated her curiosity.
“Child, run back the way you came.” Without touching your shoulders, she guided you to turn around. “Go, and do not look back.”
With words so grave, you felt compelled to listen, and did as she wished. It wasn’t until you were back on the grass further up from the beach, your family’s home in sight, that you felt safe enough to turn around. You watched as she stepped out of the water, and walked along the beach. But then, while you were watching, she slowly faded out of sight. Where her hand had hovered above your shoulder, a mark of two lines appeared. Like her own tattoos, they depicted waves. Only, it looked like a birthmark rather than the blue of her own, and for years to come would be unnoticed by you.
That night, your mother told you to story of Leviathan, a feared beast, the anger of the ocean. Mother of the tides and spirit of the deep. Your mother also told you of how people used to worship her, pray to her, and she never listened. Taking loved ones and drowning them. The vicious waves and currents that could steal someone from the beach if they dared turn their back on her. Cruelly ending lives before they’d begun. People vanishing on the water never to be seen again. She was to be feared, reviled, but respected.
But that day, the woman had given you a gift. Now, when you looked at the tides, the song that was once silence had turned into symphonies of creation and destruction in equal measure.
~
When you were a teenager, you’d gone back to the beach many times, nearly daily, hoping to get a glimpse of the woman again. The threat of daemons rising from the sands nearby, and the long trek home in the dark, did not daunt you. You’d learned from the hunters how to evade, and were aided by the sand refusing to give under your feet when you ran. Of course danger was ever present, but there was no where you felt safer than the beach.
Now that you were older, you were sure that the woman you had seen that day had been the goddess of the sea herself. Only, you’d never seen her again after that night. But you held faith in your heart, and had nothing but kind thoughts for the goddess. In the water, before the sunset and after the moon rose, you would leave flowers on the edge of the waves. Red ones. Always red. The next morning when you’d come back, some of them would be returned to you, sitting on the sand as if the water had rejected them.
But the red hibiscus flowers were always gone.
Eventually, you’d stopped bringing all others, and even made a ritual out of talking to the waves about your day when you’d sent them. As long as you knew that someone was there, listening silently, it helped you when you were hurt, and made you happy when you weren’t. Occasionally, on certain days, you’d whisper old prayers that you’d learned from an old woman in town. Ones that still remembered the goddess before her rage, and offered her the respect and reverence that had been stripped from her when all that man spoke of was her anger.
They spoke of protection, and of a long-forgotten title.
Sometimes, you’d read from your journal that you kept of writing and drawings. Poems you’d written for her, made from the memory of a child who didn’t know she was supposed to be feared. And as you aged, you spoke of her beauty, never mentioning the danger she was known for. You wrote of the sea as a person, capable of anger and love. Some of them were ever written to the melody of the waves, becoming instead songs of the sea. Drawings of the memory of her tattoos, colored to match their brilliance. But you’d never been able to capture their exact color. Portraits of her eyes. The hem of her dress as it had blended into the foam. There were also drawings of ships and sailors preparing to leave the shores. Or the hibiscus flowers you grew and would pick just for the ocean.
And for the first time that day, you’d finished a journal.
As you thumbed through its contents while sitting on the sand, you realized you didn’t know what to do with it. Poems no one else had read, drawings never seen by anyone but you.
It felt right, when you cast it into the waves with the flower.
“It’s for you.” Was all you said that day, and then you turned and left to go back home.
~
As an adult, people were beginning to whisper about you. You’d grown unparalleled in beauty, unrivaled in kindness, and known for having a strange connection to the sea. There were many suitors that you’d rejected in your small seaside town, and all would meet unlucky fates at the hands of the waves. As if the sea itself was warning them away from trying again. And for the few that insisted on trying to force you into a relationship you didn’t want, it was rare they came back from their next trip on the sea.
Some began calling you Leviathan’s kindness. Her priestess. The woman who was given gifts from the waves. Whereas people knew that the goddess was anything but kind and would only hurt those who dared to try crossing her waters, you could heal with what she would use to hurt.
Women would come to you for multiple reasons. Some for love spells, to give a man’s heart a nudge, or to grant him the courage needed take the next step. Those spells were easy, but would take time. Others to escape. For a way out of their situation. To heal their bruises and their souls. Those were longer, but took effect almost instantly.
“Take this seashell, and when you see him next, crush it over your heart. And then you shall be free from the love you feel for him.” You told one woman, who’s eye you had helped heal with sea water when it had been swollen shut. You ensured that she wouldn’t be blind in that eye, and the rest of her bruises, after being massaged with a paste of hibiscus petals and sea foam, were gone by the next day.
You placed the seashell in a sachet of linen, easily hidden in the front pocket of the woman’s shirt, and handed it to her. “Then you must take a boat away from here, but have no destination in mind. Cast away your oars and lay down in the boat and sleep. She will take care of you if you trust her. When you arrive at safety, throw a bottle with words you feel are right back into the water.”
“Thank you,” The woman said, “Thank you so much.”
Others began to call you a sea witch.
“Where is she?!” The man raged, days after the woman’s visit, throwing the things in your home into disarray. Papers strew about in rage, books thrown carelessly on the floor, bottles of water upended, and seashells, the gifts the sea left for you, smashed to pieces. Outside, you could feel a storm building in your bones.
With the sea behind you outside the window, with its song ever present, you were brave.
“Gone. You’ll never hurt her again.”
Your eyes were as cold as the sea in winter, and he continued raging. The man wanted to get his way. He threw a piece of broken bottle at you, it’s jagged end catching your cheek. You allowed the blood to drip down your face and fall to the floor, where it mixed with the sea water he’d spilled. The cut was deep, but you didn’t care.
But she did.
The sound of a bellowing scream came from the sea, and the man paled.
“Witch!” He spat, before fleeing your home to run back to the town.
You’d never heard that sound from the sea before, and went outside to see what could have made it. But also, to show that you were unharmed. And the only thing you saw was the crashing of the waves on the sand.
~
That night, the song changed. Creation had never sounded so soft, nor destruction so soothing. Barefooted, you left your home and walked down to the beach, and then into the water to stand where you were when you were a child. This time it was fully night, but the moon was already setting. Yet, even with the difference, you could feel her there. You took a few steps further out into the sea, and waited. And when you felt that it was time, you turned around.
There she stood, ankle deep in the ocean, looking exactly as she did all those years ago. It was as if she had never left that spot. But this time she beckoned to you. The movement was like a siren’s call, and you couldn’t do anything else but follow.
Slow measured steps, following her at a respectable distance. You never took your eyes off her, a feeling warning you away from doing so. Not that you wanted to. The woman, goddess, you’d been talking to and offering prayers for years was in front of you. The same deity that granted you gifts and your connection to the sea. Why would you look away?
Upon stepping on the sand, it felt different, but you didn’t dare look down. It was as soft as powder, yet you knew if she willed it, it could shred your feet in seconds. It was the feeling of the sand, cool yet warm under your feet, that let you know this wasn’t the beach you had just been on. No, this was a place between the water and the sea sand of your home. A place only she could come.
And she’d brought you.
You followed her on this endless beach, the water behaving strangely to the right of you. Your connection to the water, to her, allowed you the knowledge of knowing not to touch the water again now that you’d left it. The song was wrong.
When the sun started rising, you could see a small cottage. The wood was weathered, like it had seen many sea storms and was rubbed smooth by the sand around it. She entered first, and given that she hadn’t told you to stop following, you went inside too.
Your eyes, even though you just came in from outside, didn’t need to adjust to the change in lighting. A strange sort of ease settled over you the moment you came through the door. It was like coming home. And all around the cottage, you could see the flowers you’d sent her. Eternally kept alive, some gathered in bushels, some strung up on the walls. But the best ones had their stems held in the pages of the journals she had collected over the years.
When you went to walk further into the cottage, strong arms wrapped around you from behind. Her skin was cool and thrummed with energy unending. You wanted nothing more than to turn around to see her face. But you held still. One of her hands drifted up to your face, turning your injured side toward her. You closed your eyes the moment she pressed a kiss to the cut, and suppressed a hiss of pain as it healed. The healing she did always felt like rubbing salt in the wound until it was finished.
After she finished, it was then that she reached down and held your hands in hers, trapping you in her embraces and your own. You leaned back, pressing your head against her shoulder, and finally allowed yourself to look up at her. She met your stare with her own, and you found something like love there. You knew that gods could not love like mortals do, but what was in her eyes rant as deep as the deepest part of her domain.
It was then that she interrupted your thoughts. Her hand resting against your cheek again, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing. But then she pressed her lips to your and let you turn around in her arms. Her hand then slid back to fist in your hair, pulling your head back to kiss at your neck, lingering on your pulse. It felt like the tide had swept you away and soon you lost yourself to her.
~
It was after, when you lay in a tangle of blankets at her side, with her eyes watching your every move, that you spoke.
“Why me?” You asked, your voice as small as the day you met. You were human, insignificant compared to the eternity of her life. And while you loved her, you knew it was not returned. A god couldn’t feel love as a human does after all.
She was silent for a moment, appearing to gather her thoughts while tracing your collar bones with feather light touches. But then her hand trailed over to your shoulder and slowly, she began to hold you so tightly, her nails began to leave indents in your skin.
“I think you were made for me, and so you are my favorite.” Was her answer, and a part of you felt uneasy at the thought of being a belonging of the goddess. But another part of you recalled her fondness of the Hibiscus flower, and how it has spanned centuries. Since the first moment, according to the story, that Titan created it and gifted it to her, in memory of a woman she had failed to protect, coloring the petals with the woman’s blood.
And so you smiled, and leaned forward to press another, this time chaste, kiss to her mouth which she gladly returned.
~
All the town’s people found on the beach, the night after you went missing, was your footsteps going into the tide. Some side that Leviathan had finally killed the last of her compassion, and now only her anger was left. But the women whispered of Leviathan calling you home. Of you having gone to her side as your reward for being so faithful to the sea.
Sometimes, people would see the image of you walking on the beach, hand in hand with a woman who’s features no one could quite make out. And it is said, to this very day, that if you were in trouble and needed to find safety, that you could walk the beach and a woman might appear before you, offering advice and magic to aid you. People, every year on the day you vanished, would set red hibiscus flowers onto the sea. Both for Leviathan, and the woman who remembered that the goddess, though thought of as cruel, was kind.
I’m tagging: @bluebell-lucy, @roses-and-oceans, @ponkita, @thereissyrupinmysoup, @sweetnspice112, @for-lack-of-a-better-world, @mistressoli, @blindbae, @hooivsss, @dramaticalmurder808, @awelllitplace, @margherine, uhhhh and literally anyone else that wants to do this!
As always, it’s not a requirement!
Rules: Tag some awesome blogs and state ten weird and unusual facts about yourself.
Ah, geez, I don’t know...
I used to bite my nails, and it’s still tempting, but I can usually prevent myself from doing it by painting them. I care more about the aesthetic, I guess. If that doesn’t work, I remind myself of the benefits of longer nails, namely tools for precisely picking up stuff and good scratchers.
When I was in elementary school, I used to eat the graphite of my broken pencils. I can’t remember why I stopped, but I don’t do that anymore.
I talk to myself all the time. It’s about literally anything -- I can have an argument with myself (and lose said argument), I’ll talk to myself about my stories, I’ll act out certain scenes, etc, etc.
About three or four years ago, I had convinced myself I was capable of some degree of magic because I could make whatever song I wanted to play come on next without physically changing the order of the shuffle. I can’t do that anymore, sadly.
I taught myself how to type (despite having to take a typing class in elementary school), and I only use three fingers instead of all ten. It’s mostly my index fingers, my hands just move around the keyboard a lot.
I used to have a cyst on my left wrist, and it was a persistent little bugger. I got it drained and it came back twice, then it just went away and hasn’t come back since. There’s a little indentation on my wrist (I can fit my fingertip in it) form where it used to be.
I collect snowglobes. I try to get one from every place I’ve gone to, and I’ve gotten some as gifts. If I’m remembering correctly, I have 28.
My memory is extremely spotty at best. I’ll forget entire seasons of the year but I’ll be able to remember one event from seven or so years ago. I have to write something down to remember it, and even then I’ll probably still forget.
I get very specific food cravings for very long periods of time. I’ve been craving chicken parmesan sans pasta for a while now.
Whenever I put on socks, they don’t have to match design, but they do have to match style, as in... They both have to be the same kind of material, they have to be the same thickness, they have to fit over my foot in the same way, stuff like that.
Pre-war Bucky Barnes x Black!reader/ genderless!reader
Word count: 2.1k+ (wow a new record!)
Warnings: alluding to racism; cursing; ANGST;
A/N: Friendly writing challenge between myself and @joeyisanolive /@joioliviapolaroid
I love writing pain so have some more there's plenty for everyone.
Summary: Bucky breaks your heart.
As always be nice I'm delicate
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first few days didn't really bother you. There's a lot of talk going around about Germany and the possibilities of war. So everyone is on edge and it slipped your mind. But after a week you started to worry. It's like he'd completely disappeared. You didn't get a letter or a phone call. You went from seeing him every other day to not at all and it was completely unexpected. When he hadn't stopped by closing in on three weeks, you got concerned. Did something happen? No, surely you'd have heard about it... Maybe something important came up? But he would've let you know... You tried to stay calm and rational but all you could think of is that he's lying dead in a pit somewhere or at the bottom of the ocean because he mouthed off to the wrong person. Nothing could prepare you for the truth, however.
After a month you gave up. He wasn't trying to find you, or he couldn't. Either way it was too painful to dwell on any longer. You just wanted to relax with your friends. Have your pie and a large cup of something with too much sugar. You all took a shortcut through a back alley and down the street to one of the only non-discriminate diners in town. The one with the big orange window lights and bright pink curtains.
It was your and Buck's favourite... They always gave the two of you free hot chocolate with whipped cream for being so cute and giggly. You still remember the first time; you got shy and turned away to bury your face in your hands. That’s when he took a great big sip and let the whip cream get on his nose. Pretending to not know its there so you'd reach over and clean it off him just to get a mess of sticky kisses.
You let yourself get lost in those memories for a moment. That's when you see him. He was fine, he was alive. He looked great actually. He was was sitting in your booth, smiling. Looks like he's having a good time- with her. She's pretty; Blonde, bubbly, and white. A lot of everything you're not.
You aren't prepared for the way your heart feels. It wasn't breaking, that would've been a gift compared to this. Its hollow, becoming empty. Inside there's an echo of what used to be your soul, saying "I told you so." You used to think that holding his hand, laughing with him, kissing him, dating him, loving him- him loving you... that it could only be possible in a dream. Looks like you were right.
She grabbed his hand and they both leaned in almost too close. He was laughing at something she said when he saw you standing outside. Your friend's take notice of what's happening and desperately try to pull you away.
"We'll just go to Doc's a block over. Their pie is better anyway y/n..."
"Yeah, c'mon let's just go."
You blink back the few tears you had building and let them lead you down the street. He knows who you're with, so he knows where you're going. He's observant like that. If there was any place that served real Key Lime Pie around, you'd find it. You just hope he doesn't show up there too. You can't deal with seeing him right now and maybe ever again.
~~~~~~~
You're in the corner booth of the large diner with your friends, flicking a cherry around the table. You hate cherries. Buck would always eat them for you. Your waitress was balancing several precariously perched water glasses to deliver to a large party across the floor. She passes right by you but doubles back handing you a small note. "Here you are sweetness. From that handsome boy you're always with." She gives you a light poke and a wink. You liked her but you're gonna have to stop coming in on her shift now. All the note says is:
'Round back.'
A very large part of you is trying to stay stuck to the leather seat and get a fresh start on a new life with some old coffee, but the smaller part is much stronger and it needs you to touch him one last time. Your friends give you soft but disapproving looks.
"I don't need this from the two of you right now, just order my pie please."
They shift in their seats uncomfortably. "If you're not back in 25 minutes we're coming out after you y/n."
You chuckle. "Yeah? And what then, you gonna kill him?"
They shoot each other a quick smile and a knowing glance. "We will consider our options."
You didn't want to grab too much attention on the way back inside later if this ended badly, so your waitress let's you cut through their break area. It's a little dark even with the light from the street lamp but you don't need much to find who you're looking for. He's propped himself up against the brick wall directly across from the door. Fuck. You were hoping your feelings would shift your perceptions a little but it didn't work, He's still as handsome as ever. It's been so long you'd already started forgetting little details about his face. Like the freckle on his forehead or the shape of his jaw. You would gladly drown yourself in those eyes if he wanted you to. He's always been so beautiful it hurt. You snap back into reality when the door slams shut behind you.
The two of you lock eyes for a long solid minute. He's waiting on you to speak first and you realize you haven't thought about what you might even say to him. You settle on: "Talk."
"Y/n... it wasn't what it looked like."
You cross your arms. "Oh? So you weren't on a date?"
He bites his bottom lip. God you love those lips. Making out with James Barnes is like sipping directly from the hand's of god and you wanted to be drunk in it forever. "...I deserve that." He swallows hard. "I promised... I promised that I'd take her out for a while."
"Just out on a few extra friendly dates? Oh well that's fine then, I didn't think you were dead or anything, James." You were actually holding onto a lot more anger than you anticipated.
He sighs obviously also annoyed, but you called him 'James.' If you know nothing else about your Bucky, you know hearing his name roll off your tongue is the sweetest thing in his life. "I wanted to talk to you y/n but-"
"No. You just left me alone for over a month? I didn't know what might've happened to you James- It's not like I can come around asking questions?!" He started pacing. You didn't like cutting him off like that, but you're hurting and he did this to you.
"I didn't stay away from you because I wanted to y/n..." He was rubbing the side of neck and that's when you finally noticed the remnants of what used to be a black eye and several other bruises.
"What did they- who... who was it?" You had your stern face on. You're not too bad in a fight and right now everything inside you was pulsing with anger, but even at your meanest you still only look like a hungry puppy.
He half chuckled at the ground and skidded a few rocks in your direction. "Don't worry about that."
He never takes your anger seriously. "No James. Tell me who-"
"WHY? Ya gonna go find em? Fight em?" He let out an honest laugh this time and slid his hands into his pockets. You back off. Even you can admit you're not beating up anybody that could kick his ass. "I just can't not see her, y/n... she's their sister."
That hurt you more than you'd care to admit. "But... what about me?" You sounded whiney. Much more needy than you intended to.
He scanned your face, his slowly filling with remorse. "...it's too dangerous right now."
You wipe a few hot tears from your cheeks. "Sooo, what? You're gonna keep this charade with her up for a few weeks and then dump her? Then she'll cry and they'll kick your ass again and either kill you or force you to make up with her." He clenched his jaw.
"Then you'll either keep repeating this shit over and over again until they get tired of you or you get married." You laughed at the thought. You didn't want to think of your Bucky in a literal shotgun wedding but the visual was hilarious.
"OR, heaven forbid, they wise up to..." You gesture vaguely to the space between the two of you. His eyes are filled with an emotion you can't name. It reads like stress. "and I'm just supposed to wait for you, right? Because you don’t actually like her. What happens to me when you start to change your mind?"
His chest is heaving, voice almost a whisper now. "I. Want. You. All I've ever wanted is you y/n... That's all I want."
The tears are streaming, you're not even trying to wipe them away anymore. How you're not standing in a puddle already you don't know.
"Then tell me right now Buck, what is more important to you? Me or what they think of you...?"
He swallows hard, his own tears starting to build. He isn't going to answer you and you know it. It's an easy question sure, but things aren't that simple. You're much more important to him, you alwayshave been, but what people know might get you both hurt.
"I can't- We... can't do this. Not right now. It's too much. It's too risky. They already think I'm crazy, that I'm scum for just hanging around all of you. Do you know what might happen to me if they find out about Us? Do you know how we look together?" You can see he Immediately felt bad for saying it. He knows he shouldn't have and that there's nothing they can do to him that would be worse than what they'd do to you.
Your shoulders drop. Now you’re whispering. "I think we look fine."
"That's not-I didn't mean it like..." shaking his head he kicks a garbage can behind him and runs his hands through his hair. You accept this silent apology. He feels like shit. This is frustrating and unfair, you both know that much.
You sniffle and kick your own rocks back towards him. You wanted to plead with him. To tell him everything would be okay. That you could run away together or that all this would be over soon. To tell him how much you want him too... but you've been so emotionally distraught over the past month there's nothing left for this moment when you really need it. Now you have a decision to make. You take a deep shaky breath and fight back the next wave of tears.
"Don't- I never existed." You start to readjust yourself to go back inside, wiping your face and smoothing your clothes.
"What?" He cocks his head to the side thinking he didn't hear you correctly; genuinely confused. Your poor sweet boy, your Bucky.
You take a long moment to stare at the ground and make sure this is what you really want. You straighten yourself up and plant your feet, looking him right in the eye. "Don't think of me ever again. Don't contact me. Don't remember me. Don't speak to me or my friends, anymore. As far as you're concerned, I'm a ghost. You never met me." You can feel yourself start shaking. It's a mixture of rage and anguish.
His eyes are blown wide, mouth hanging open. He heard you. He just doesn't believe it. You're in love. You're supposed to be in love. This isn't what loves looks like, what it feels like. You turn to open the door and return to your night out before either of you has a chance to change your mind. A wave of light filled with the sounds of silverware scraping on plates, people laughing, soft music. The gorgeous scent of fresh pie and hot coffee. The smells and sounds of the world you forgot to notice while you were lost in James Buchanan Barnes. You stop and turn back to him one last time before stepping inside. You can tell he's hoping for something more than what you just left him with. Your voice is already cracking.
"I believed in you. I believed in us... but you're right, this is too much."
