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bloody-wonder · 2 years

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mid-year book freak out tag

Les Bookes: read them, love them, write absurdly long posts about them📚

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2022? sadly i haven’t yet read anything that would blow my mind this year but i think my top 3 would be the power of the dog by thomas savage, empire of the vampire by jay kristoff and these violent delights by micah nemerever. the premise and the characters of the power of the dog are *chef’s kiss*, love me some evil gays and family dramas, but it’s kinda,, unfocused? it does that thing often found in classics when you want to get to the juicy stuff but the book’s like nooo veggies themes first. but the payoff is amazing and the ending is abrupt and very bold so i do recommend it if you don’t mind the slow pace. empire of the vampire is an extremely fun and very tropey high fantasy book with 🙌vampires🙌 and just a tinge of gayness. i’d heard a lot of mixed things about kristoff’s edgy writing style so i could mentally prepare and in the end i had a great time. i do have a lengthy list of criticisms, half of which are some version of “could’ve been much gayer“, but i suppose you have to accept the baby steps of cishet male fantasy authors, sighh🙄 and these violent delights is just a very solid dark academia book. a rare case when a book truly delivers on the buzzwords and comparisons mentioned in the blurb, so if hitchcock’s rope, leopold & loeb or the secret history give alluring vibes, check it out. (based on the afterword and the author’s bio i can safely say he’s my doppelgänger lol. i wish i could link that afterword somehow bc it’s like someone gazed into my soul and put it on paper). however, this book does read like a debut and in my opinion could’ve benefited from a couple of additional drafts in the course of which it should’ve preferably lost some of it’s ya-ness😬

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2022? the queen of attolia was the best one and definitely leagues better than the first book in the series but artificial condition isn’t far behind🧡 also the winter of the witch was a very satisfying conclusion to the winternight trilogy😊

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To? vale aida, the author of the magpie ballads, just published her second book - it’s called hostis and as far as i understand it’s a mm enemies to lovers historical romance set in ancient rome. i would pick it up immediately but it’s the first installment in a duology (?) and i’m afraid i’ll have to wait for book two and read them back to back bc if it’s anything like her previous books it’s gonna be very slow burn and i wouldn’t be able to handle any cliffhangers. but who knows, maybe i won’t have enough patience anyway lol. i also just finished dream boy and now want to pick up jim grimsley’s most recent release - the dove in the belly - which sounds like a grittier version of heartstopper👀

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2022? definitely fence vol. 5! in the last volume we finally had some skin to skin contact, who knows what depravities the next one will bring😅 there are also a couple of tumblr-adjacent comics i’m excited about: twelve percent dread by emily mcgovern from @emilyscartoons (which actually might be out already🤔) is about the quarter life crisis and working as a tutor in a rich family - both things i’m an expert in - and it’s gotta be hilarious if the snippets the author posted so far are anything to judge by. the dead romans (?) webcomic by @apolinariomabinis is the other one and i’m not so sure about the details but i think the homoerotic cassius/brutus art i’ve been religiously reblogging for the past couple of weeks are actually rejected scenes from a comic which the creator is gonna start posting in july :D

(tbh the og answers to the two previous questions were to paradise by hanya yanagihara and babel by rf kuang but now that i’ve read some early reviews i’m not that excited about these books anymore😬)

5. Biggest Disappointment? fucking vampire chronicles! *deep inhale* so. was anybody going to tell me that anne rice isn’t a good writer or was i just supposed to REread three of her books and find it out myself?? interview with the vampire is passable but underwhelming, the movie is by far superior imo, especially tom cruise’s portrayal of lestat. the vampire lestat is disappointing bc rice was just determined to retcon everything and make lestat a generic chosen one protag. but hey! at least the armand parts were good, right? well ig joke’s on me for picking up the vampire armand only to realize that as soon as rice makes someone a protag their personality is gone. but then, ig it’s true for her writing in general: her character work is just atrocious bc all of them feel the same and if you tune out for a minute and miss the scene change (which i sure did bc these books are boring af) you will never be able to tell you’re reading about different people now. her plots are ridiculous to non existent, her vampire lore gets ever more batshit (derogatory) the further you read and i find her preferred themes of religious guilt etc etc extremely tiresome. her prose is undeniably beautiful but if anything these books will forever be the example i hold up to prove that prose alone can’t carry a story. anyways,, at least it had some high quality smut👌 i just wish i could read it in a book like empire of the vampire instead ugh

6. Biggest Surprise? a density of souls by christopher rice who is, ironically, anne rice’s son😅 based on the blurb i thought it was gonna be some form of dark academia but it starts like one of those 2000s high school movies that are either nostalgic or didn’t age very well and then spirals into a high stakes intergenerational melodrama of massive proportions (the climax involves a freaking hurricane!) and goes to some very juicy taboo places with its characters’ relationships. the cherry on top is the afterword rice wrote for the new edition in which he recounts many a hilarious anecdote about his experience writing this book as a 20yo gay son of a very famous author and which was probably the funniest thing i read this year, all the more amusing for its contrast in tone to the melodramatic novel. another big surprise or ig more of a hidden gem was heart of stone by johannes t. evans which is a historical slice of life mm romance between an adhd vampire and his autistic secretary. (yes, i’m having a vampire themed reading year😁). very cute and wholesome, deliciously slow burn, binged it overnight but was somewhat let down by the ending bc imo the misunderstanding plot device overstayed its welcome and - oh horror! - the smut was fade to black😩 i mean the book’s still good but you can’t tease your readers with homoerotic blood drinking and then not deliver >:(

7. Favorite New Author? this year i read strangers on a train by patricia highsmith and can now safely say she’s one of my favorite authors. absolutely love her approach to thriller which is not about building up a mystery and resolving it in a satisfying way (forget about that lol) but instead about exploring the minds and feelings of her unhinged queercoded poor little meow meow characters. the same goes for philippe besson - i read another one of his “autobiographies” and i suppose if i’d read them in english his writing style would steer on the cringier side but it seems very appropriate in french. very excited to read dîner à montréal now to find out who this frenchman allegedly fucked next👀 i also have high hopes for christopher rice and shirley jackson to become my new favorite authors as soon as i read more books by them :)

8. Newest Favorite Character? murderbot is an aroace icon and “i'm in this picture and i don't like it” kind of relatable BUT phil burbank is a crusty man i can put into the washing machine and spin very fast hehe. also honorable mentions to father konstantin - very cool of katherine arden to write this frollo knock off character and then have him gay kiss unholy demons, 10/10

9. Newest Fictional Crush? marquis jean françois of the blood chastain. would drink from him on three separate nights any time😏 or whatever you need to do to get vampire married in eotv

💕Best Ships💕 an additional question selected and approved by me with the purpose of drawing the booklerina council’s attention to the fact that the framing narrative in empire of the vampire is basically damen/laurent interview with the vampire au which begs for fanfic writers who would go down the path jay kristoff was too cowardly to tread. (unless he plans to go there later in the series in which case i take back all the criticism😅 i do love me a slow burn but as of now book two is nowhere in sight so the point still stands). another fictional love story that stood out to me this year was ofc that of eugenides and attolia. didn’t care for how they got together in the end but the,, “inciting incident” for that relationship was sooo up my alley and the enemies to lovers banter was very good😏

10. Book That Made You Cry? the winter of the witch had all the bittersweet stuff the conclusion to a series should have and so it definitely made me tear up a couple of times but the book that made me cry the most this year was un certain paul darrigrand by philippe besson. life that gets in between two lovers, the dramatic farewells, the scar kissing, the flashforward scene many years in the future in which paul implies he regrets the choices he made way back when... there’s something about the unfulfilled love stories besson tells that makes you think how foolish, if only the characters said this, if only they did this instead, there would’ve been a lovely happy ending - and then you remember that it’s not characters you’re talking about, it’s real life people bc these books are at least inspired by besson’s own life, and so there’s no “what if”, there’s only what they did and where it led them😥

11. Book That Made You Happy? the porn fantasy webcomic for some inexplicable reason known as oglaf makes me very happy. very soothing to watch diverse pansexual cartoon people fuck and make funny jokes😌 the ladies of grace adieu by susanna clark was and the will darling adventures by kj charles (which i’m currently reading) are also a well of positive emotions. but i would be lying if i failed to mention that the bookish experience which is making me the happiest this year is re-reading the lymond chronicles with @starlingshrike🥰

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw This Year? the power of the dog. i’m cheating a bit bc i watched it last year when it came out on netflix but it’s a good adaptation and a good film whereas the few i watched this year did not impress. *cough* heartstopper *cough*

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year? the humongous vampire armand rant i wrote exclusively for katie in our tumblr chat lol

14. Most Beautiful Cover? empire of the vampire uk cover is gorgeous! the art inside the book not so much😬

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year? sighh remember i made a list of top 5 books to read in 2022? half the year is gone and i only finished one of them🙈 with fire and sword is on top of my pile of shame bc i started it all the way back in january and am still only a few chapters in. the other ones are the last two nightrunner books, fire and hemlock and rebecca - let’s hope i manage to read them this year after all, fingers crossed. the tbr pile of shame also includes you love me by caroline kepnes which was already featured on the last year’s mid-year tag🙈🙈 i also want to continue with the murderbot diaries and the queen’s thief as well as give another chance to gideon the ninth. hopefully i’ll also be reading more from the mlm authors i discovered in the recent months: the dove in the belly and dîner à montréal i already mentioned, to those i would add the snow garden by christopher rice which sounds like a very juicy thriller about a “a dark dance of sexual manipulation, twisted retribution, and murderous rage” between a married college professor and his secret student lover. sign. me. in.

i cordially invite @figuringthengsout @counterwiddershins @jimscoffee @fugitoidkry @magpiefngrl @sugarbabywenkexing @fandomreferencepending @pemberlaey @oliviermiraarmstrongs @moonsandstarsaregay @bellaroles @hello-jumping-in-puddles @thehalcyonharbinger to yell at me about the books you guys read this year :D

#stay tuned for the lymond chronicles as oglaf scenes post #book tag

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dameronology · 3 years

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wait on {din djarin x reader}

summary: boba fett is a good therapist, and din djarin is spectacular at being nosey. the result? a much needed conversation. perhaps there’s a silver lining. {kinda based on this song}

warnings: angst, language, swearing, s2 spoilers

this one hurts a lil bit but i promise the ending is happy. enjoy!!

-jazz

The air between you was thick, not unlike the beskar that the Mandalorian was wearing.

It was funny, really, because you’d never minded the armour all that much before. Your ability to see straight through it and see Din Djarin for what he really was had been what made him fall in love with you, and you with him. Now, it felt like a barrier between you. Inches of thick metal and fabric, shielding him from the world around him. From you. The one person he usually held closest to his heart; the one person he’d let see his face for the first time in years. The man was hardly a conversationalist at the best of times but he’d opened up to you. Shared his world with you and intertwined it with yours. Built something with you that you'd both protect with your lives.

Now, he was straying away. Forever attached by an invisible string, but with galaxies and galaxies between you. Even though he was mere inches from you, sat two seats over, there was a chilly air; if your relationship was a warm, welcoming house, the atmosphere he’d plunged you both into was the cold winter’s night on the other side of the glass. You wanted to go back, to drag him inside and slam and bolt the door behind you. Instead, you were forced to watch through the windows, knowing what was there but never quite truly getting close enough to let it envelope you.

You couldn’t hold it against him. The last few weeks had been rough on you both, and it only come to a head today. Grogu had been taken by the Imps and the Crest had been blown up before your very eyes. It was one of those times that truly and wholly showed the difference between you and Din: you sought him out and he pulled away. You’d learnt a long time ago not to follow him. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to, but you’d learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea.

Despite the icy silence and ache for your kidnapped toad son, you were still grateful for the fact Boba Fett had offered his ship as transport and shelter. You weren’t entirely sure what his deal was, but Din seemed to trust him, and so by extension, you did too. Things were a little cramped in the hull of the ship, but there was a spare sleeping quarters for you and the Mandalorian to squish into, assuming he’d let you. You didn’t want to ask him, because you were scared of the answer.

Instead, you found yourself sat out on the dusty plains of...wherever the hell you were. Boba had parked the ship up overnight so that you could rest; it seemed to be some kind of desert planet. Not too different to Nevarro or Tatooine, but perhaps a little colder. The sky had long faded to black, casting a darkness over the sandy plains ahead of you. The chilly air was a welcome contrast against the stuffiness of the bedroom - it wasn’t even hot in there, just filled with some kind of inexplicable tension. And not the sexy kind; the regular, all-consuming type. You could feel it slowly etching into your frontal lobe, sinking in its claws and giving you a stress head-ache. Letting out a few deep breaths, you let the gusts of cold wind blow over your bare arms.

‘A little cold out here, isn’t it?’

The voice was gravelly and unfamiliar, but one that you knew belonged to Boba Fett.

‘Yeah, maybe.’ You didn’t turn around to look, instead letting your eyes stay focused on the distance. There was nothing ahead. Just darkness and sand. ‘Fresh air is nice, though.’

‘Or maybe the air inside is bad.’ He countered. Boba took a seat on the rock beside you, jokingly whacking his knee against yours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Just...what happened today, I suppose.’ You replied. ‘We lost the kid, and our ship.’

‘You’re handling it better than your Mandalorian.’ He replied.

‘I don’t think he’s my Mandalorian.’ You snorted. ‘He’s just...he doesn’t normally deal with so much at once. I think he just needs time to process it all, you know?’

‘Perhaps.’ Boba said. ‘And do you always make excuses for him?’

‘I beg your sweet pardon?’ You turned to look at him.

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve always been an observant man.’ He began. ‘I saw how you immediately went to him, to check on him, and how you fought beside him, yet he’s barely even looked at you.’

‘Ouch.’ You muttered. ‘You might be observant you but certainly do not tread lightly.’

‘My apologies.’ He curtly nodded.

‘It’s not always been like this.’ Your words felt forced. You were making excuses. ‘And it won’t always be.’

‘You know him better than anyone, or so I assume.’ Boba reminded you. ‘But don’t be afraid to remind him what he has, despite what he’s lost.’

He was right. Din could be distant, and he could be fucking ignorant without even trying, but you hadn’t strayed from his side once. Not for a second. It could be frustrating to deal, with but you loved him with your whole being, in a soul-consuming sorta way, and you knew he was capable of coming around. Your mother had always preached songs of love being patient and kind but as you saw it, it was frustrating, and at times the most inconvenient thing in the world. You must have had the patience of a saint to deal with him. He was just lucky he made it worth it (and that underneath all the armour, he wasn’t too bad to look at. It certainly helped his case).

You let out a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t. Di - Mando already struggles to express his feelings and I’d only make it worst if I said he wasn’t doing it well enough.’

‘You know your worth.’ Boba said. ‘Only you can decide if he appreciates it enough.’

‘He does.’ You quickly replied. ‘I know he does.’

He gave you a doubtful look, one that said I think you’re bullshitting, but I won’t disagree. He was simply sharing his observations, even if they were a little much. But the man hadn’t had any proper social interaction for a long time, so you could hardly blame him - and he had a sort of wise air to him, like he’d been round the block a couple times. He certainly seemed like the sort of person you should listen to.

‘I’ll leave you with this: the life of a Mandalorian is complicated.’ He dusted off his knees, before standing up. ‘You should make sure it’s worth it before you fully commit.’

‘I-’ you tried to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s boot. Why the fuck were there twigs in the desert? More to the point, why was that your immediate thought?

You both sharply turned around, coming face-to-face with a Mandalorian. Not a Mandalorian, but the Mandalorian. The one you’d just been talking about. The one whose heart would have been broken into a million tiny pieces if he’d even a word of what you just said. And, from the way his helmet tilted ever so slightly to the left, you figured he’d heard more than enough. Fuck.

'Don’t let me stop you.’ His modulated voice wavered ever so slightly. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

He turned on his heel, heavy steps taking him back towards the Slave I. To anyone else, his body language hadn’t changed, but you could read him like a book. A complicated book, and one that was missing more than half its pages and was in a dozen different fucking languages, but one you’d read a thousand times. Understanding Din Djarin was hard, and you’d only just begun - barely touched the surface in fact - but it was more than anyone else could say.

‘Wait!’ You leapt up, almost comically falling over as you rushed after him.

Sensing that his presence was probably not welcome, Boba returned to his seat on the rock, silently hoping that Fennec Shand was either a) asleep, or b) had enough common sense to stay the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to go down.

‘I swear to maker if you shut that door -’ you were cut off by...the door shutting in your face. Djarin: 1. You: 0.

You let out a small groan, slamming your fist against it.

‘Okay, maybe I deserved that.’ You quietly muttered. ‘But will you please listen to me?’

Silence.

‘Fine.’ You splayed your fingers out against the metal. ‘Ice me out, Din Djarin. I’m more than used to it by now.’

There was a gruff hmm from the other side of the door. Had he really just taken offence to that?

‘It’s funny, really.’ You continued. ‘Because the part of that conversation you didn’t hear was me defending you. Like I always fucking do, because I know that despite everything, you’re a human being and you love me.’

There was a small thud, as though Din had placed his hand in a similar position to yours.

‘But Boba has a point.’ Your voice fell to a whisper. ‘I keep giving and I get nothing back. Instead of letting me in, you just shut me out and I know you’re upset at what he said but for the love of everything holy in this shitty world, do not prove him right.’

It was a risky ultimatum, and not one you’d seen coming. Your chest had tightened as soon as the words left your mouth, because you knew that if Din stayed silent, that was it. You’d have to let him go; to accept that you would never get back what you putting in. Before, you were able to convince yourself that you were okay with that but maybe, just maybe you weren’t. Waiting around for something that had no guarantee of happening was like beating a dead horse that had no guarantee of coming back to life. The only thing that was promised was emotional exhaustion and then eventual death. You would have liked to have found something between those two waypoints - whether Din Djarin could be the one to give it to you? You didn’t know.

After a moment of silence, the door finally opened, and you came face to face with him. Like actually face to face with him; no helmet, no armour. Just a loose tunic and tired brown eyes, matched with lazily-shaven facial hair and knitted brows. That was Din. Your Din.

‘Can I just...can I just talk for a moment?’ He asked. ‘I have something to say and I want to get it right.’

‘Of course.’ You nodded.

‘I’m not hurt by what you said.’ He stated. ‘I know I don’t show you enough love and it hurts that I don’t know how, but I am trying. I promise you that much.’

You gave him a tearful smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I just wish that you could say it to me and not to him.’ He murmured. ‘I don’t want you to hold back on anything, ever. You can always come to me. Even if it’s about me.’

‘I get that.’ Your eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s just that I know you’re trying your best and I’m scared you’ll think that your best isn’t enough.’

‘It’s not.’ Din’s words took you by surprise. ‘It’s not enough, but one day, I hope it will be.’

‘I don’t know what to say, because if I deny it-’

‘- you don’t have to say anything.’ He cut you off. ‘I want to give you the world. And I will, if you’ll be patient with me.’

You took every word as gospel as he said it. The Mandalorian was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. And to his credit, every promise he’d made to you before, he’d delivered on. You didn’t doubt for a second that this one would be the same. It wasn’t even naivety or wishful thinking.

‘I mean, I’ve come this far.’ You tried to crack a joke. You finally looked up from the floor, his brown eyes meeting yours.

‘I love you.’ He took your hands in his, words firm. ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.’

‘Din.’ The words barely come out as a whisper. ‘Never apologise. Please never apologise. I just...it’s nice to hear it, you know? A little more often than every time you almost die.’

‘Are the words enough on their own?’

‘Yes.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘Because I know you mean them.’

Din wrapped his arms you, pulling you tightly against his chest. It was warm and soft, miles away from the cold armour that so often greeted you. He held you tightly and with a new kind of might you were previously yet to experience, clinging onto you as though it were the last time. It wasn’t - it was far from the last time. Rather, it was the first time. The first time that he’d spoken of a future with you, or fully promised himself to you. You knew you would get there one day. You’d just needed him to say it himself before you could believe it.

Din Djarin was giving you tiny little pieces on himself each day, and one day, you would have all of him.

tags: @meshlababy @bo-kryze @poestardust @aqueencomplexx @princessxkenobi @cosmic-rich @captn-andor @buttercup--bee @maharani-radha @kat-r-in

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin angst #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian imagines #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian angst #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars angst #mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin fan fiction

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honestlyfrance · 3 years

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SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more!

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

#onlysambucky #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #france: fic rec #fic rec #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

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deluluass · 3 years

Text

misericordia

It's finally here T^T Here's to reaching 100+ followers! Thank you so much everyone!!

Content Warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; somnophilia; description of dead bodies; includes some elements of cosmic horror; dystopian-ish au; biblical references/imagery; angel! Ushijima

To name is a barren tree: fruitless and, ultimately, the workings of this kind.

The earth will soon be without form, and void; and darkness shall remain the face of the deep.

The Spirit of God no longer moves in the face of the waters.

Names are for nothing.

But, for any cause done here, to name is essential. As it was in the beginning, when there was still a beginning (but it has not ended yet, so the beginning shall still stay), to name had been the first task.

So when asked for a name, the mouth was able to conjure:

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the body said.

And as it is the way of the Created, the body became he.

And as it is the way of the Created, proof was immediately demanded for the name.

And as it is the way of the Created, once found on the chest, Ushijima Wakatoshi was then welcomed.

You weren’t there when the world ended.

In fact, so, too, was your father's father. The sky had cracked open and the oceans had already split up the old lands for as long as anyone could remember.

Before the city became a city in truth, the people had just been strangers, seeking shelter after everything fell apart, only to be abandoned by those who’d promised protection.

That didn't mean, however, that things got better for your lot once someone swept in and established order and peace and stability and whatever it is those at the top had to say to justify them being there.

If your father were to be believed, you had been sleeping in your mother’s womb, still a tiny beating heart, when the longest winter happened ("winter"; they still called it that when there had been minute differences between hot and cold).

Supplies were short; food was scarce; so when you finally clawed your way into a world breathing its last, your mother couldn't help but bleed into the sheets until your cry outlived hers.

But your father barely recognized you during his final days. That’s why when your neighbors call you a liar for saying “I was born on a Spring,” you shrug it off and think you might as well have been born on a Spring.

There’s no way of knowing. The story had always changed every time you asked him.

Sometimes he blamed you, sometimes he told you it’s not your fault. Nothing you could do about it. Spring it is, then; you told yourself.

Spring always looked so... different, in the drawings Granny made, anyway.

No one here actually knows her age. Granny had always been Granny; as permanent to this place as the walls enclosing the city.

She rarely left her quarters, that crone, and could barely stand on her own without your help. Worse, she could no longer see. What use is a blind artist, the others would laugh.

It’s their loss, you’d retort, mocking her like that. Because then they’d miss the way her gnarled and knobby hands would glide with unwavering purpose if you asked her to, strokes bold and not a space wasted.

“You never learn,” she croaked once finished, jostling the wrinkled piece of paper to your lap. “Why throw away your rations for this piece of junk?”

Granny retched, “Incurable fool.”

At this point, she would grumble about suffering in the old pig’s (her words, not yours) kitchens for nothing, and always, without fail, you’d feel a smile break on your face. It hurt, honestly, but after an entire day of frowning over the dishes you had to wash and the floors that needed scrubbing and all the other orders yelled your way, it was worth it, anyway.

“I know you’re laughing. My ears still work, mind you.”

You felt your belly shake as you giggled, brushing the paper with worn fingers, staring open-mouthed at the piece before you.

“This is amazing, Granny,” you sighed.

“Idiot,” she repeated. “It’s the same thing as the one before. And the one before that.”

And for good measure, Granny added, “Idiot. Not like you hadn’t seen that one.”

When all you’d done was take her hand in yours and place a pack of food along with a thin roll of paper in her feeble grasp, Granny finally asked, “Why do you keep coming back here, girl? Asking for the same thing.”

There wasn’t any of that surly frown now.

And looking at her like that, without the crabbiness that sharpens her features, that oddly makes her look younger and in control of herself, you find that you don’t have an answer this time. Arrested by the realization that her shoulders slumped lower than you’d thought. And that she’s getting thinner.

“Why?” you whispered back, feeling traces of charcoal stick to your palm.

Maybe it’s because there’s no other way that she’d accept food, unless she does something in return. She kicked you out the first time you intended to give her the ration you’d earned.

(Or maybe it's because you know what they'd do, once they find out she's no longer making trades.)

Why, indeed.

Maybe it’s because you hadn’t really seen things grow before.

You might work at the Governor’s place, at the heart of the city and everything else that matters, but grunt workers like you are prohibited to get anywhere near the farm, let alone actually enter it. So, really, there's no other way of seeing what growth looks like.

Maybe it’s because you can only do that when you witness her in her craft. You really don’t have anything to compare it with, but you’re sure life from soil works the same way.

Everything must come from something. And that something must be quite the artist, if they're anything like Granny.

Birthing roots from the ground of what was once a blank piece of paper with a flick of the wrist; growing into large trunks, strong branches, then into an abundance of leaves and blossoms.

Trees drawn on both sides of the paper, always with a smattering of grass and flowers in the middle. She said they used to grow here, when she was just a girl. And if you begged hard enough, she’d add a stray butterfly fluttering around the corner.

You hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I just love seeing you, Granny,” you grinned.

“Crock of shit.”

“Really!” You grabbed your knapsack as you stood from your seat, folding the paper with care. “Hey, Granny, guess what? Don’t give me that face— I’ve already saved just enough and you know what that means?”

She snorted.

“Listen,” you pouted. “I’ll finally be able to get those pigments! I heard they don't cost that much and if I trade next-”

“Don’t.”

She tilted her head and faced your way, misty eyes pinning you. "How much does paper cost you?"

You gulped.

Then, with a swiftness that surprised you, she grabbed you by your tattered sleeve and gritted, “I may be the blind one here, but I think I see a lot more clearly than you do. You can sweat and bleed for those pigments, but I will never paint.”

You felt a sting in your eyes as she continued, “I know what you’re doing. And I’d be the greater fool if I let you work yourself to the bone for some pipe dream."

"Content yourself with coal, girl. That’s all you’re gonna get from this place. Dirt and rust and smoke. Go sneak into that damned farm. Go steal some of those fuckers’ riches. In fact, while you’re at it,” she laughed dryly. “Steal them all and run away from here. If you really want to live.”

“Only,” she said, too soft that you had to sit back down to hear her, “Only, stop hoping, my child.”

Her chest wheezed as she breathed, like air passing through the holes of a rundown machine.

You kissed the back of her hand before you left.

The wind howled and threatened to topple you as you walked back to your building, hard rain slapping you across the face when you picked up into a run. They didn’t descend in small drops anymore. As you get older, thunderstorms are to be expected once evening falls, lingering for weeks only to suddenly bring about an irritatingly humid day.

But tonight, the large cavern above that parts the dark, heavy clouds into opposite streams seem to yawn wider, closing itself lower and lower into the earth that you swore someday it’ll devour the city whole.

Mud water in your boots, you grabbed onto your soaked coat and climbed the steps of the decaying piece of slab you call home, mindful that you won’t slip and break your skull against the thick beams, twisted metal jutting out of the corners.

A solitary lamp flickered through the window of the room next to yours. Little Soo-jin must be having nightmares again, you thought with a frown.

You were about to knock on their door when the sirens blared, echoing louder across the city than the boom of lightning, followed by a grating squeal that could only be an opening gate.

Your knuckle froze over the chipped wood.

The last time the alarm rang, the people were greeted by the body of a young council member, brought by a small and wounded troop who’d accompanied him outside the city.

Soo-jin’s mom peered through the murky window, meeting your eyes after both of you stared into the direction of the gate closest to your zone, as if seeking you for an explanation. You only gave her a shrug.

“Someone must have died,” you said.

“No, he’s not dead. That’s why you’re bringing food to his room, aren’t you?”

You stared at the girl stubbornly shaking her head.

“I- I know, but! Didn’t you hear? They said they found him full of bullet holes and I—”

“Even if you’re serving a rotting corpse, as long as Cook orders it, you follow.”

It was admirable that she’s refused for this long. If it were you, you’d have been sacked the moment you opened your mouth to say no. You wiped your hand with the towel next to the sink, having finished the work assigned to you, and watched the ongoing bout in the kitchen.

“Why can’t you just ask the others? Marga’s not doing anything!”

“Marga,” the older woman hissed, “is with the others. Almost everyone is in the meeting room. So if you don’t take your butt up there, I’m gonna have no other choice but to tell Cook.”

You winced. This can’t be good.

You cleared your throat. “I can do it,” you said.

The tray was shoved to you faster than you can drop your raised hand. You would have found it amusing, considering that you’re sure they couldn’t even recognize you, but the idea of being in the same room with a half-alive man does make you feel uneasy.

Not that it’s anything new for you; you nursed your father until the fever took him, after all. You just haven’t lived long enough to get used to it yet. But you steeled yourself and did your job, because it’s not as if you had any choice.

You prepared yourself for anything as you entered one of the many guest chambers. Bullet holes, rotting corpse, entrails held together by stitches.

And when you announced your presence and gripped the tray tighter so as to not spill the soup on the sprawling carpet, it’s not really surprise that caused you to stumble upon your words when you saw the man sitting on the bed.

It’s more of an embarrassment, of sorts.

You must’ve entered the wrong room, you thought. You immediately checked around to make sure no one saw you talk and almost grovel to an actual sculpture.

Because that’s what he was.

The Governor’s estate houses floors and floors of rooms that you hadn't explored yet. But there was one that, if no one would bother to keep track of the workers, you had the habit of sneaking into.

Thinking about what it took for this family to have all those sculptures there hurt your head, so you stopped a long time ago. You chose, instead, to just admire the marble wonders in all their beauty, always looking back down at you with majesty and pride.

Just as he's doing right now.

Chiseled torso wrapped in bandages; sharp jaw that could cut; eyes the color of olives, gazing deep.

"That is for me."

You snapped your head down.

"Huh- uh, yes? Yes!"

His deep voice still rumbled through you.

"Yes, I'm sorry," you muttered, heat rushing to your face as you placed the tray on the table next to him, inflaming when you realized he didn't mean it as a question.

That is for me.

Not a question. A question means you can answer. His words brooked no other response but obedience, reminding you of your place.

Much like those sculptures, every time you'd spent too much time inside the room and you'd get the feeling that you're not supposed to be there, too filthy to be anywhere near what you think is the closest thing to perfection.

And the truth would settle on you like a heavy weight: that no amount of beauty can ever breathe warmth if it cannot live and grow.

The same way that despite the sunshine filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, surrounding him in blinding light as he sat on the bed, you can't shake the impression that this is the coldest this room has ever been, with him here.

So you anticipated his orders; a single word or maybe a glance that would tell you he wants you gone. Just either one of those and you'd run out of this room in a heartbeat.

But neither came. The man (you still didn't know his name) remained silent, staring at the food like they've insulted him specifically, and now he's questioning the collective audacity of the soup, bread, and bowl of fruits laid before him.

Maybe they don't serve those where he came from. He's from the North, after all, made evident by the small eagle etched on his chest, just above a pectoral. The last visiting Northerner you served who also bore that mark threw a rag at you (she missed) for "mixing the bathing oils incorrectly."

You stayed in your position and asked, "Is the food not to your liking?"

He didn't say anything, but he did shift his attention to you.

And what a mistake that was. How does this man go about life with such a severe presence?

"Er..is something..wrong?" you sweated, suddenly fascinated by the vases behind him.

Glaring back at the food, he answered with a deep "no" and breathed out. His large arms rose and fell along with it, straining the bandages around the muscles.

Oh, right. Right.

You perked up. "Do you need help?"

Stepping closer to the table, you gave him a tightlipped smile and a sheepish "excuse me" before taking the spoon in your hand.

You scooped a thick serving of soup, your palm hanging under it, and waited.

And waited.

The man looked at you the same way he looked at the bowl of fruits earlier.

"What are you doing?" he said, gravel-voiced.

You're gonna lose this job.

Why did you think you could feed him like he's an ailing, decrepit old man? Or a literal child? He's built like he commands an army (and he probably does).

You are definitely gonna lose this job.

"I- I'm sorry!"

You jerked away, your hip hitting the table, the impact shaking it and causing the plates and silverware to clatter against each other.

"O-oh no, I'm-" The spoon in your hand fell as you attempted to set things properly, soup spilling to the carpet along with the utensils.

You're gonna lose this job and you're gonna starve to death.

"I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!"

Dropping to your knee like your life depended on it, you picked up the myriad of similar looking spoons and forks and placed them back on the tray.

You kept your head downwards, bowing as you'd been repeatedly taught, and shut your eyes tightly.

"I thought that you hadn't healed yet and needed help and- and-" you huffed.

"And I thought that I should feed you but- no-no!" You looked at him and flailed your hands in front of you. "No! I didn't mean feed- I meant- I meant no disrespect please forgive me!"

Not a word was spoken in that second that spanned an entire year. But just as you'd accepted that the worst has come, he said:

"Then, feed me."

Wait.

Wait, what?

"I don't.. understand..?"

"Then, feed me," was what he told you. And so matter-of-factly, at that.

So you did, desperate to keep the only thing keeping you alive.

Though your hand trembled and you wished to be anywhere but here— even the wasteland waiting outside the gates, with all its unimaginable threats, seemed like paradise —you took a loaf of bread from the basket and brought it closer to his mouth.

Lines marred his forehead as he chewed. You were about to ask, self-destructive that you are, whether you should get the sweetened roll instead, thinking he found the one in your hand too bland. But you don't have the luxury to risk digging your grave any deeper.

You kept quiet and pointedly removed him from your line of sight, choosing to count the tassels hanging off the canopy instead.

Once he's eaten all that's left of the pastries, you dipped your hand into the bowl of fruits and took a grape in-between your fingers and, as much as you can, you steadied your hand to avoid touching his lips.

It didn't work.

You shuddered at the contact, curling your toes in your boots to avoid squirming.

This has got to be the weirdest day of your entire life.

Not a hint of unease was shown. He continued to close his plump lips around the tip of your fingers and crushed the fruits with pointed canines, making the hair on your body stand on end. What if he bites you? Would you bleed?

The man seemed to like them more than bread. A sense of urgency rose within you as he went through the berries and sliced mangoes like this is the first time he's had them.

Can't say you blame him. The last time you ate something that resembled a fruit, a real fruit, was when Granny persuaded (coerced) a young boy in her complex to steal one from his employer. That boy has a child of his own now.

You felt your mouth water, your stomach growl and command that you take the bowl from him and shovel its contents to your mouth, as you watched him devour the sweet and tangy meat, the smell of it sickening as it is strangely compelling.

He raised his head and met your eyes.

Shit.

The apples, you thought as you looked back down to the tray. They're the only ones left soaking in the bowl, those apples. After this you'd be out of this stuffy room and you'd laugh about this later with Soo-jin and her mom and Granny too if she's not cranky.

You could still feel him staring at you as you fed him a slice, the apple crisp when he took a bite.

Juice trickled down your hand, the sticky extract tickling your arm as it slid to the crook of your elbow, and you were about to wipe it with your other hand, when you felt a wet tongue probe the gap between your fingers.

You gasped. "Sir..!"

You stepped away. Tried to, anyway, but with a firm hand, a hand that's not injured, after all, he gripped your wrist and continued to suck a digit.

"This is- sir!" struggling out of his hold, you pleaded with him to let go, please sir let me go, even as he only looked at you, his eyes dimming when he grabbed your waist to bring you closer.

He licked your hand, lapping at the trail the juice left behind, and when you thought he would release you, he took your hand to pluck another slice from the bowl.

Your legs gave up beneath you, forcing you to sit on his stretched lap, his hard body scorching you through the sheets, as he ate the apple from your palm, slurping the leftovers dripping from it.

"Don't cry," Granny told you once.

"Especially when you feel like crying," she said. "Don't cry."

You'd never really been good at listening, but now, you decided to suck in your breath and keep those tears at bay. You can cry and laugh about all this later.

Because you might be jobless after this, but you will certainly have a damn good story to tell over the fire once you finished kneeing him in the nuts.

So: one.

Breathe.

His teeth scraped your soaked hand.

Two.

You rested your hand on his shoulder.

Three.

You braced your leg, moving it between his thick thighs, and then, as you clutched his bandages, you—

"Ushijima-sama."

The door swung open.

"Pardon the intrusion, but the Council members requested-”

It was Secretary Hara.

“Oh."

Secretary Hara: a lanky, dark haired man with glasses who's always at the Governor's beck and call. He was here, carrying a small stack of papers, and gaping at the scene before him.

You and the esteemed guest. Who's still suckling at your skin. On the bed.

He grinned, full of humor and disgusting. “Well,” he said.

At least you weren't crying.

A question, shared only by the Heavens, began when the Lord fashioned the flesh out of the dust of the ground and said,"You are made in My image and likeness."

It was not their way, before that: to question. (One of them did, once, but that is a different story).

They have no need for questions.

They hold the highest seat, below only to the Creator, unencumbered by the trappings of the earth.

They have no need for questions.

So it remained unasked, lingering in fragments in the House of the Lord.

The question comes to him now.

For the flesh is a cage. It is ephemeral and prone to decay.

It is fitting for this kind to have it, with all their qualities bound to the material world.

You are the very epitome of these.

Graceless. Stumbling like a newborn foal. Too many apologies. Too many questions.

God is not here, he thinks as you insist on asking what does not matter.

“Is the food not to your liking?” and “Is something wrong?” and “Do you need help?”

Indecisive, too. Reneging on your promises. You said you’d feed him and then you said you wouldn’t.

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a mere flesh, locking inside divinity your kind would never understand. Yet he felt its tedious demands gnaw at him when he saw you. Something so impermanent should have no right for constant sustenance.

But he knows, just for this time, that he needs it. That’s why he tells you to feed him, as you said you would. After all, it is your way to serve. And, for all your many inadequacies, God has granted you bread and water and fruit to sate your appetites.

Thus, for as long as he is flesh, he will do as it tells him to.

When it urged for the taste of fruit, for the cloying sweetness of its juice, it is only right that he heeded its call and had his fill.

How dare you object. His light is brighter than yours; God has granted it so (and yet you were given the will that they never had). And even in flesh you are beneath him. You are easily held and defeated.

The ache in his belly did not cease, each gulp he took heightening his senses, shouting for more, more, more as he took you with his tongue. And he realizes that this is what the first of your kind may have felt like when they disobeyed. The first act of betrayal.

(For what is the wrath of God to the cries of the flesh?)

And with that, Ushijima Wakatoshi finds, since donning this useless flesh, that it is not at all easy to gratify.

Not in the least.

There are so many rules in this mansion that even Cook’s effort to batter them on your head could sometimes be futile, given that their number is just as big as this place. But, there is one, among all the convoluted and at times nonsensical decrees, that you are not allowed to forget:

Unless you’re among the core staff, you can never enter the East Wing.

The East Wing is where all the important things happen, see. It goes without saying that someone as lowly as you cannot pollute that hallowed ground.

Today seems to be an exception.

When Cook barked that Secretary Hara wanted you in the East Wing first thing in the morning, you had a feeling that you just might not live to see the next day.

You didn't speak unless spoken to. You didn't look unless told to. The things you should've done much earlier.

"How are you liking the work here so far?"

Secretary Hara pushed the pen to the side and leaned back against the leather swivel chair.

"It's a job," you mumbled, to which he only replied with a breathless chuckle. You didn't see the point in bootlicking any further. Besides, Granny hated that the most; so you avoided doing it as much as you can.

There's only one conclusion for you here, anyway. No matter how severe the punishment. And it's back in your room, with a uniform that needs sewing for a job that you no longer have.

He tapped his fingers against the lacquered table. "You're right," he said. "Work is work. Despite your place in this society."

You wanted to roll your eyes. Secretary Hara has never been any of the workers' favorites (not that any of you had your "favorites," but if you could, you avoided this guy). He had this astonishing effect, too, in which he can actually bring people together. All because everyone hated him.

He's a slimeball, is what he is. If one needed lessons in kissing ass, he was your man.

"Do you know why you're here?"

You're getting fired. End of story. Now can I please just go? is what you want to say. But losing your job doesn't usually take this much time and attention. Normally, it was Cook who'd grunt "You're out" and that was it.

So you shake your head.

"I'm promoting you," he said. "Congratulations."

Somewhere, beneath that condescending smile of his, is a punchline that you're sure he's deliberately keeping from you. Just so he can be the only one who gets to laugh.

"I-" You balled your hand to a fist. "Why?"

He scoffed. "What are they teaching you in that rathole? Honestly."

They taught me not to be rude to people I don't know, you little bitch.

"Drop the coy act, it's okay," he sneered. "It's cheap and it won't work on me."

Oh, now you really want to get fired. If only to kick his teeth in. "That man," Secretary Hara continued. "Ushijima Wakatoshi. You were all over him and you seriously don't know who he is?"

You gritted. "Secretary Hara, what happened- it wasn't- I didn't want it."

But he only gave you that look. As if to say, "Sure. Let's go with that." When it'd pass and the need to pummel him became stronger, he stood up and stepped towards the tapestry draped against the wall.

It was a map, the city a pinprick on the corner. Secretary Hara faced it, dusting the spotless surface, his back to you.

"Ever wonder what keeps us here?" he started, hand still on the map. "This city of ours?"

"The," you licked your lips. Where was he going with this? "The river..?"

Secretary Hara clapped his hands, his voice lilting like he's talking to a toddler as he said, "That's right. That's good. Excellent."

"So you do know some things, after all." His fingers crawled towards the long line of blue stitched beside the city. "And do you wonder what would happen if, say, that river begins to dry?"

You felt your eyes widen. You covered your mouth with a palm.

You're not supposed to know this. Why is he telling you this?

He scratched the thick clump of blue thread and continued, "These great cities. They have their energy; their military."

Your eyes followed his hand, moving farther and farther away from the pallid brown surrounding your city, towards the bright yellow West, stopping at the bright green East. "Some of them are blessed enough to not be surrounded by a literal desert."

Then, with a careful hand, he moved to the very top and said, "And the North…the North has it all."

The North was a sprawling, intricate web of threads, eating away the entire tapestry.

"The Ushijima clan rules the North. Much longer than this city has existed. And they’re so engrossed in their wars that they’d never glance our way if we don't give them at least half of what we make,” he spat. “These great people haven’t had contact with us in years."

Secretary Hara finally turned around, grin still in place. "But now one of them owes his life to us." He walked back to his desk, sitting on its edge. "Perhaps the heavens sent him here."

When you remained silent and looked at him with eyes that you wished had the ability to kill, because you know now what they wanted from you, Secretary Hara only shrugged.

"He asked for your name, actually," he said, tilting his head. "Lucky you. He didn't bother to learn ours."

You stood your ground. "No, sir," you said. "I won't."

He pulled a thin piece of paper from a pile sitting next to him. "You're not gonna do much," he said as he began to read. "Just show him around the city. Be his friend."

Friend.

"But I- No. I can't." You stepped forward. "Please."

He looked away from the paper. "Zone 42. Room 0312."

"What.."

"Granny," he said. "That's what you call her, isn't it?"

No.

"They say that for a blind old lady she's still somehow miraculously trading to keep a roof over her head."

Phantom touches crept to your arm, slick and nauseating like cold sweat.

"You must take it from her. Though you're not related," he said. "Apparently, you're so hardworking, you even work the night shift. When you don't have to."

You released a shaky breath. "I'll..I'll start," you croaked. "I'll start right away, sir."

Secretary Hara folded his arms, victory plastered all over his gaunt face.

"Thank you," he chimed. "I'm glad you understand. It's for your own good too, y'know."

The uniform they gave you chafed against your skin. Tugging at the sleeves did not help, the pristine fabric too coarse and stiff to budge. Your only comfort was the folded paper hidden in your pocket, fading at the edges every time you touched it.

You have to admit, however, that you did look...well, you did look clean. Not as much as him, though. And not just in the sense that he's out of the bandages now. Last you checked, and that had been a few minutes ago, he was still sporting a couple of scars on his forehead.

Despite that, you don't have to look behind you to know what's captured the people's attention as you strolled the capital. Or, who, to be exact.

Some were outright ogling; some happened to glance once and then immediately looked away with a blush; some made the laudable effort to not look.

A mirror of what you're doing right now.

They gilded him with gold, which is a redundancy if you ever see one. He was wearing the most expensive pigment, something that only the Governor's family could own: a deep violet tunic emblazoned with golden vines, swirling from the middle to the collar; paired with dress pants that you could probably trade for a whole month's worth of food.

You kept your distance as you walked in front of him. "Just show him around the city," was what Secretary Hara told you. That didn't mean you had to talk.

And it's not as if he had any complaints, either. He followed you through the rows of glass houses that adorned Governor's lane, not a word spoken about the sights.

Even when you'd attempted to speed through the dizzying streets, he kept his pace, long legs allowing him to stride close to you. By time you'd reached the plaza, you were already out of breath and in need of rest.

But you didn’t.

You remained standing a few feet away from him, the paper in your hand opened to reveal those great trees and thriving field, as he sat under the gazebo overlooking the square; a place reserved only for council members.

The smell of the sweetmeats and oranges in front of him reached your nose (Secretary Hara has a cruel sense of humor, you belatedly realized, when you were handed a bag of food that had a note saying “treat him well”). You fought the itch to cast out what little you’ve had for breakfast.

Children were playing around the sandbox, the staff of whatever family they belonged to guarding them. In a way, their job wasn’t that different from what you have now.

Except, it’s not a child you were threatened to accompany. With the feeling of his gaze burning your nape, it seems like you’re not the one doing the guarding as well.

And you didn’t feel every bit like the adult you are when he called your name.

You felt frighteningly small, as you yielded with a pathetic, “Ushijima-sama.”

He only looked at you. Those green eyes telling you exactly what he wanted.

People are watching. You can’t mess this up.

“Sir,” you said, hand still in your pocket, that frayed paper your anchor. “It is improper.”

Irritation swept through him, his sharp features harsher when dissatisfied. But you can’t give up, even though it’s sending a chill down your spine and he seems like he’s about to throttle in broad daylight. (And he doesn’t have to do much, you know. He can crush you with one hand.)

“Why- why are you here?” you hissed. “R-really?”

You don’t shut your trap when you have to, girl. That’s your problem.

“Because- because I’m not gonna be your..thing.” The paper was dampening in your grip. “While you do whatever it is you do, Ushijima,” you huffed. “...sama”

Ushijima did not blink, his stare unwavering as he turned towards the small crowd strolling below. There’s a part of you that wishes to put yourself in his place, like a king on his throne. What does the view look like from up there? Are the people beneath just multicolored ants moving from afar?

“A few of my kind have suddenly sided with yours,” he said. Then, briefly returning his gaze to you, “I had to see what draws them here.”

He linked his fingers together. “Before I do what must be done.”

You stifled a chortle. “Do what must be done” your ass. Does that include harassing people, too? “God only knows,” you whispered.

“You believe in God.”

You were the subject of his relentless attention again. You groaned, averting your eyes to a small girl, probably around Soo-jin’s age, who plopped down to create a heap of sand, much to the consternation of her nanny.

“No,” you replied in a thin voice.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Where is this question coming from? “Always seemed like a lot of work,” you said.

The little girl was making a castle. It’s apparent to you now that she has little pail by her side, shovel in her grubby hand. The frill of her dress caught most of the sand as she stacked them atop each other.

“And I’m pretty sure God has more fun things to do than worry about me,” you added, just because.

The castle reached her knees when the girl stood up.

"God has left," Ushijima said. "A long time ago."

And then she kicked it. The thing crumbled to a mound, the breeze scattering it back to the sand.

You did chuckle this time. The Northerners sure are strange. "Really? Where’d God go?" you hummed, looking up to the sky.

The sun was blanketed by waves of clouds, as usual. "Somewhere nicer, I hope," you sighed.

You closed your eyes and thought of that nicer place. It would have to be far, far away from here. Maybe it would even have those trees that Granny loved.

"Cherry trees."

You opened your eyes and gawked at him.

He was still gazing at you.

"You are attached to it," he told you, like it's nothing; like your heart's not wreaking havoc against your ribs with each word he utters. "On that paper."

Pulling it out of your pocket, you stumbled to him and unfolded it for him to see. "You- you know what this is? A 'cherry tree.' That’s what you call it?"

"Yes." Ushijima's eyes did not leave yours. "That is the name you people have bestowed upon them."

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

You didn't let him answer that because, just like the fool that Granny accused you to be, you took his hand in your trembling one and laughed, somehow managing to drag him out of the gazebo.

It took a while before you finally let go.

Much has changed along the way, he felt this as the air grew hotter; the sound of bustling people louder and less constrained with inutile mortal etiquette. You seemed less wary of him here.

The hand that held his tightly was still brushing against him, as you talked incessantly about the pieces of paper plastered across the wall. They all looked the same, yellowed and infested with mold at the edges, but you insisted otherwise.

“See here?” You pointed to the one on the bottom. “Granny drew the leaves differently. They look like flowers don’t they? They are, aren’t they? I knew it! So they are flowers.”

There was a cot in the corner of the room. He sees you there in slumber, surrounded by rocks and scraps of metal and bits of gemstones held together by strings, each strand hanging on the crevices of the roof, gleaming every time they move.

You tapped his arm repeatedly. “Oh, oh. I put these two beside each other. Notice that the shades are different? This one is lighter while this one has more shadows to it.”

"Do you get it now?" you asked him, expectant.

Humans are baffling creatures, Wakatoshi thought. Because when he said nothing, you only laughed (you seem to like doing that) and told him to “follow me; hurry.” You didn’t hold his hand this time (you should’ve, he preferred it when you did).

“My bad. I hadn’t shown you yet,” you huffed as you grabbed a rag and set aside buckets of rainwater that obstructed his path.

Behind a curtain of sackcloth and ashes, draped at the furthest side of the wall, was a crack big enough to let a person through, corroding steel bars protruding along the broken concrete.

Wakatoshi ducked to enter the room next to yours. It was hollow, save for bits of gravel and a window obscured by dust. You paced to it then wiped the thick glass with the rag you brought with you.

“That hill is always there in Granny’s drawings,” you said, taking the paper in your pocket and setting it parallel to the scene revealed by the window.

Your smile was wide, as if you were admiring a land lush with vegetation, or wildflowers at least. When it was far from that. It was a vast desolation, beyond the gates and the brown earth fractured. But, just as you said, there is a solitary hill sitting along the horizon.

“Those trees- cherry trees,” you started, face radiating with mirth. “It’s the same but.. different each time.” Your breathless laugh makes him feel just as winded. “How is that even possible?”

“I know they can’t be just...green.” A finger traced the outline of the leaves. “Because these are real and they actually grow and- and they change.” And, as if it’s a secret, “Unlike the ones at the capital.”.

“If only Granny would paint them for me,” you whispered, the smile on those lips waning.

Wakatoshi couldn’t stand it. So, he grunted, “You are wrong. This one is green.”

He took the paper from your hand. “They only change colors once they bloom. White, first. Then, pink.”

This knowledge is trivial; if it can be considered knowledge at all. It is a speck in the infinite matters that simply exist— have existed, in this world. Yet such a thing has put that look in your eyes.

Perhaps it is not inconsequential at all.

“Pink?” you breathed, grinning incredulously at him.

You turned away and closed your eyes, your voice cracking as you murmured, “I see.”

There's a blood pumping organ within his chest. A vital piece that keeps you humans alive. It beats constantly, never ceasing. If it does then it means you are dead. He is flesh, for now; it follows that if it halts, then he is fodder for the earth.

How is it, then, that he is still here? He’s sure he felt it stop, the air knocked out of his lungs, as you looked back at him, eyes welling with tears when you said, “Thank you.”

Thank you, you told him, smiling.

Ah.

Wakatoshi gets it now.

This is what God must have seen, when your kind looked up and sang, “I love you, my God; I love you; I love you.” And when you knelt and dared to turn those eyes for others that are not God, he suddenly understands why they were ordered to rain fire and brimstone upon your great kingdoms.

Because he, too, would smite anything, burn it to the ground and salt what is left, if it would so much as receive a whit of your sweet, soft words.

“They used to grow here,” you sniveled. “Granny said so.”

“And I thought, maybe if Granny added a bit more color- maybe they'd feel more…I don't know..real..?” Laughter rings in his ears once again, pealing like bells. “Yeah..They'd feel more real...Though, she did get mad at me,” you winced.

“I just thought,” you sighed, your shoulders touching him. “Wouldn't it be nice if I can wake up one day and find them growing again? Right here.”

God created a garden for your kind once. It is gone now, but Wakatoshi wonders what you’d say, how you’d look at him, if he shows it to you. Your head against the grass, fingers laced with the lilies of the field, the taste of fruit on your lips, your thighs dripping with honey and dew—

Wakatoshi felt his loins stir, but he didn't say anything, except, “The soil here is poisoned.”

You snapped towards him, brows drawn together. “I know,” you said.

“A sapling cannot grow on this wasteland.”

“Yes, I’m not stupid.”

“That could have been any hill.”

“I know.”

His throat is parched; his hands a pair of useless things. He can hold galaxies in them, sink ships and level seas by the order of God had this body not trapped him. (He can free himself, but then you’d die). Now he doesn’t even know what to do with them as he rushes out a hoarse, “I have upset you.”

He refused to let you take the paper from him. You didn’t seem to mind.

“No,” you sighed. “No, of course not. Forgive me, Ushijima-sama.”

You bowed again. An act of servitude.

“Please, let me escort you back to the capital.”

He does not understand. He only told you the truth.

But you turned your back to him and the light in your eyes has gone and he wants to chase it back the same way he wanted to run after God when the parting happened, leaving the Heavens mourning until their wails split the firmament open.

Wakatoshi yearns to have you closer. He yearns for that smile and laughter back on your face.

Wakatoshi yearns.

But, that cannot be.

After all, that is just much too human, is it not?

The rain drenched Wakatoshi to the bone, droplets falling from his lashes to his cheeks, when he walked through the nighttime storm.

He didn't bother to dry himself.

After he'd reached your room and shoved the door open, the clap of thunder covering the noise, Wakatoshi decided to undress himself, shedding all articles of clothing until he was naked as the day God created your kind.

Wakatoshi felt the chill bite his skin. But that had nothing on the way you easily dismissed him earlier, by the time you'd reached the abode of this city's leader.

You left him and he could no longer see your face and yet that fierce longing in his chest stayed, creeping to every part of him, making a home in his belly.

Until he recognized the feeling for what it was.

Hunger.

Hunger, he could fathom. And when one feels it gnaw at one's flesh, what does one do, but eat?

You were sleeping on the cot, just as he'd imagined you to be. It's enough to keep him warm: the sight of you, at peace under the glimmer of the trinkets dancing above as a lamp burned lowly.

The mattress sank under his weight when he sat next to you. His much larger hand took yours, locking your fingers together to rest his cheek against it, bringing it beneath his nose, and feeling his heart race as he breathed in your scent.

He remembers the first time he did this so vividly. You tasted like apples and sin; and though there's none of that now, his mouth still waters as he savors your skin, his tongue traveling to your arm, just as he did then, leaving bites along the way.

You barely stirred when he lifted your shirt to reveal your tits, the sheen of sweat along the valley forcing a growl out of him.

Do you feel it, too? When you drag him further down to earth, debasing him and bringing him so low that now he is nothing but a hungry flesh and a mouth made of obscenities.

"Fuck," he grunts, as he took his cock, heavy and hard to touch, and rubbed the head with his fingers.

Perhaps he is lower than human now. Perhaps it does not matter. What is God to this hunger, anyway?

(This hunger is bigger than God.)

The cot was pitifully small as he straddled over your chest, breathing still shallow, and spat on his hand before wrapping it around the thick shaft. The tip of his cock touched your nipple as he fondled with the other one, thumb and forefinger pinching and pulling until you let out a tiny mewl.

Hearing it had him falling to his knees.

Wakatoshi moved off the cot to kneel on the floor, the better to suckle on your tits, to lick and nibble on the skin below it, on your stomach, until he's seeing red and ripping your loose pants down to your thighs.

He pumped his cock harder as he caressed the folds of your cunt. You groaned, arching your back and offering yourself to his mouth, when he started to lap on your clit, sticky liquid coating the swollen bud as he swirled his tongue to spread the juices dripping from your hole.

Your entire body was singing for him, even when all you'd managed were squirms and muted whimpers. He felt your skin twitch beneath his lips, as he cupped his balls and drove his hand faster around his throbbing cock, gripping his fist tighter.

Oh, he sees you on that garden, clinging onto him as he drives himself into you, pounding your cunt as you beg please, just as you did before, please, please, fuck me harder I am yours I am all yours.

But, for now, he settles himself with the violent shudders of your body, flooding his mouth with cream, as he releases his seed on his palm.

Wakatoshi rubbed it against your leaking cunt, quivering still in his hand.

There is something that must be finished, first, before he takes you, in truth. He cannot have you conscious (for now.)

He covered you back in your clothes, after. Then, Wakatoshi lingered on your face.

"Fearfully and wonderfully made," he whispered, a mere guttural sound amidst the rain pouring outside.

Here lies salvation, he thought, as his fingers brushed your closed eyes.

And here, Wakatoshi thought as he brought his lips down to kiss you, here lies damnation.

He wiped his blood on the doorposts and lintel before he left.

You woke up to silence.

Your nether regions ached and, really, the temptation to not go to work today was insanely strong. But the sun was already bleeding through the window and there's a heavy feeling on your chest.

And like wearing a shirt on backwards, you immediately knew that something was not right.

The sound of the door slamming open echoed through the building as you ran outside.

There was nothing.

Not the sound of people going about their day nor of children risking the wrath of their mothers with their games. The only thing you could hear was the buzzing noise of a fly circling around your ear.

You didn't bother knocking on your neighbor's room, rushing inside to shout for Soo-jin and her mom, stopping only when you found them sitting around a small table.

They didn't turn around to greet you.

"There you are," you panted, putting your hands on your knees. "I'm so sorry for barging in like this."

Even little Soo-jin, who never failed to jump into your arms given the opportunity, kept her back to you.

You stepped towards her. "Soo-jin," you whispered, placing a hand on her thin shoulder.

"Soo-jin, hey," you chuckled, your trembling fingers shaking her bit. "H-hey, what's wrong?"

Her head nodded down, like a doll grabbed all too suddenly, then it lolled to the side, rolling until she bared her neck, until you saw her face.

Her mouth hung open.

Inside the cavern were tiny black lumps that took you a second to realize were flies feasting on her molars. And when you lurched and sank to the floor, it was only then that you saw her staring back at you.

Bleached eyes, wide and whitened to the core and pupils like spoiled milk.

"N-no." Your vision was cloudy, freezing dread settling at the pit of your stomach when you saw that the same happened to her mother. "Who- who did this?"

Your voice strained out as you stood, mind moving faster than your legs.

Granny. Go to Granny.

Though you already know, don't you? You don't have to see her to know her fate. Because as you sprinted out of the room, leaping down across the steps, out of the building and into sand and concrete, the smell of sulfur followed you, choking you along with the sight of bodies sprawled on the ground.

Insects creeping out of nostrils and every other orifice, faces that you'll never have the chance of knowing and faces that you'd grown up with, hands reaching to the heaven as if at prayer.

You are alone. You are alone in a city filled with rotting corpses.

There was an uncontrolled animal inside your body, fighting out of its cage in a fit of rage as you craned to look up, further up.

The sky was on fire, the fissure in the middle gaping wider and wider and sucking in a mass of swirling clouds dipped with blood and orange.

And there. There, look. Standing atop the towering walls.

Beyond the heat wave was a figure, burning bright that you had to squint and you wanted to look away, you had to look away, but you can't go out like this, not without a scream and a curse at your lips.

What did you do, you were shouting, Who are you, you were screeching, feeling the veins in your neck stretch and pop as you walked closer and closer.

Wings as far as the eye could see stood atop the fallen city.

Spread out to span the horizon and folded at the middle to conceal whatever it is pointing a flaming sword towards the sun.

You tasted iron at the back of your mouth, but you did not stop. The earth beneath you swallowed your feet as it turned to mud with each step you took.

And with the flap of its wings, the sound of metal banging against each other reverberated louder.

There were children howling in pain, somewhere, behind you, in front of you, beside you. You staggered forward and for the life of you, you do not understand why you keep trying, because the ground below wasn't even soil anymore.

It took another step before you fell.

And it was like one of those dreams.

But this time you don't wake up.

You bawled out and thrashed your legs as water rose above you, slamming against your chest and filling up your mouth and burning your nose until it's all you could see, until you're floating in darkness and water is rushing to your lungs and you were flailing upwards, catching that spot of sunlight, but the more you kicked your feet and swung your arms, the more it tugged at your heavy legs and the less you could breathe and the further it got—

You were sinking, the clanging of a giant bell everywhere still, as the water pulled you down, and in the deep, below the nothingness, was a massive cleft illuminated by the barest of light, slowly opening to reveal an eye, and no sound came out though you know, though you felt your throat release a shriek, horrifyingly small, so, so small compared to that glass green pupil that illuminated the darkness, rapidly contracting and dilating and then blinking as salt and fire streamed deep in your skin, but they were looking at you from all sides, a thousand eyes flanking you and judging the weight of your soul with their unforgiving gaze as you tossed and turned in the waters.

I am going to die here, you thought. I will die here, you cried.

But something was pulling at your waist and despite clawing and jabbing at it, desperate to keep it away from you as you wailed get off me get off me, it gripped you tight, hauling you upwards until you were gulping and breathing in cold air.

Through tears and the piercing cry that ripped out your throat, you felt strong, warm arms cradle you close.

Along with a deep voice, familiar and conjuring a long lost memory.

It lulled you into hiccups and dry sobs, gentle as it whispered.

“Do not be afraid,” he said. “Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid.”

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x female reader #dark content haikyuu

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

Note

High school Sunny enthusiast here! Would you mind sharing a couple more headcanons about it? I’m so glad you’ll be able to teach again this fall, you totally deserve to develop your passion at full potential 👏🏻

Am I showing up after forever of being gone? Yeahhhhh Sorry y’all got the brain sads lol but!! I’m back w one of my favorite little universes! I actually had a meeting for our teacher prep program on Thursday which is so exciting!! We’re being assigned our working teachers sometime this month which is insane to me.....Anyway today I’m gonna clean and write!! Take some headcanons nonnie you helped to make me feel inspired again!

This ended up being more Sunny and his Mom than Sunny and high school, but it gets there!! So Sunny’s mom used to make him and Mari bag lunches almost every day. The only day she didn’t was on Fridays, because those were pizza days, and she knew pizza was Sunny’s favorite

She made their lunches the night before and they sat on the back right corner of the fridge. She liked to keep it pretty standard- usually a sandwich (or leftovers from their dinner), a snack, a piece of fruit, and some sort of dessert. Sunny used to sit at the kitchen counter and watch her make their lunches right before he went to bed.

It was one of the special things that was him and his mom. He got to choose what they had for a snack, what piece of fruit the two of them had, even what went in their sandwiches. He was the one that chose Caprisun or water bottle. He got to help his mom write a little note for Mari to read on a sticky note when she ate her food the next day at school.

It started as a practical thing (Sunny was such a picky eater, it was best that he decided what they ate so he would actually eat his food) but then it was just their tradition

Sunny was never talkative per say, but during this routine of theirs Sunny’s mom could ask him about his day or his friends, and Sunny would do more than nod or shake his head.

After Mari died, after her husband left, they didn’t need bag lunches anymore. Sunny didn’t go to school, and Mari couldn’t. Sunny wouldn’t speak, not even his infuriatingly endearing head nods and shakes. He just slept. All day long.

But after they move, after those last three days where she left him alone, something changes. At first his mother is furious with herself. She left him alone and he ended up in the hospital, how could she do that? How could she do that to her last living baby? But Sunny is changed, and not in the bad way. He’s getting up, he’s going out, he’s even seeing his friends.

She had been treating him like her baby again. She had thought that’s what he needed. He needed someone to cuddle him close and tell him he was loved. He had needed someone to make excuses, to let him sleep and process. He had needed to be in the house where he was safe and not out in the world where he could get hurt. He needed his mommy

But....maybe that had been what she needed.

Admitting you got it wrong as a parent is not easy. It gets swallowed down like medicine and lemon rinds. It bubbles in the stomach and leaves you nauseous and unsettled. But seeing her son growing in front of her, seeing the shell she had left him in beginning to crumble shows her that yes. She did get it wrong. She had let them both stagnate.

When he tells her he wants to go back to school, she cries. She cries a lot. He is clearly very uncomfortable, but Sunny’s mother holds him tightly and cries. She calls the local high school that day and tries to explain their situation. Sunny had been doing some online classes over the last four years, but his grades were abysmal, and his mother is pretty sure he hadn’t learned a thing.

The school agrees to take on Sunny, but they put him in a grade below his own. He will graduate a year late, but he will for sure graduate. That they promise her. His last school just let him fall by the wayside. This school is already planning out special practices just for him. Sunny’s mother settles the fear in her. Her boy will be looked after this time.

They are worried about his socialization and ask if there’s any hobbies he has. She can only think of blank stares and sleeping, but she tries to remember the quiet sweet boy her son used to be. She remembers endless sketchbooks and colored pencils, and the oh so perfect melody of her children together. On a whim she enrolls him in Orchestra and Art with assurances that if he doesn’t like them he can switch them out.

The night before his first day of school, she walks into the kitchen and beckons him to follow her. They don’t have a bar counter space for him to sit at anymore, but Sunny hops up next to the fridge. Normally she would scold him for doing this, but she just asks what kind of fruit he wants.

He tells her peaches, and she carefully carves them into perfect slices the way her mother used to do for her. She and Sunny begin their traditions once more.

Sunny goes back to school and it is not easy. She doesn’t make it easy. Not on him, not on his teachers, and not on the administration. She calls at least three times a week, telling them that it’s too much. They tell her to back off, to let him stumble. It’s terrifying to do that. It’s worse than any fear to let her child fall and hurt himself. But she does. She does because she’s seen the changes since she left him alone those days in the beginning of the summer.

One full semester is what the administration asks of her. Just two quarters for him to find his footing without her influence. They will reconvene over winter break to make adjustments, but she needs to let him fail if that’s what’s going to happen. He needs a mother, not a mommy. They don’t know the knife they’ve twisted when they say those words, but that knife is exactly what she needed. She agrees.

Sunny struggles to adjust but he does. His failed tests and missed classes slowly disappear one by one. He brings home a practice violin she did not buy from him, and he plays when he thinks she’s asleep. It’s quiet and unsure, but the music is there.

He invites her to his concert. She does not hug him and cry again, even though she wants to. He isn’t a baby, he doesn’t need her to fawn over him. She agrees to come, and secretly begins to covert with Kel’s mother.

She waits outside Sunny’s school for them all to arrive. Hero has come home from college for a long weekend for this. She greets each of them with a firm hug, something she hasn’t done in years. Even Basil, although he seems slightly terrified of her. They sit together in the audience and watch Sunny perform.

She cries as she watches him. She doesn’t recognize this boy. This is not her baby, not the same child she loved and then lost alongside his sister. He’s changed, someone new is on that stage performing, someone for her to discover and love.

She had been so afraid of this, so scared for that change, so sure it would only end in another dead child. Now there’s a teenager, not a child in front of her. He’s not so tall and not so strong, but he is alive and real right in front of her, and she is growing.

She can finally start to let herself be his mother.

#asks #anon #high school sunny #violinist sunny #can't remember the tag i use #omori #omori headcanons #omori headcanon #omori sunny #omori sunnys mother #omori sunnys mom #sunnys mother #She's just...struggling #but she loves him

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Lacuna - Chapters 13-16 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing. MURDER, GORE.

wc; 10.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

-- CHAPTER THIRTEEN --

If this is what it’s like to be dead, then you don’t want to be dead anymore.

First off, it’s cold as all hell in here. It’s like when you were younger and your brothers would throw you into the frigid ass water for fun in the winter. Of course, you could swim back then. Like every other person in district four, you had learned to swim at the sprightly age of four, probably younger. You start young when it comes to knots, fishing and swimming.

By the time you’re seven or eight you’re basically blending in with the water. Most kids by then can swim like they never left the water, they’re fish themselves. You used to race the kids back home all the time to see who could swim fastest from dock to dock. And those were like a quarter to a half a mile apart each. Every single damn time, you somehow managed to beat them. The runner up would always be at least thirty seconds behind you. On good days, more.

Fishing? Well, if you’re old enough to hold a rod then you’re old enough to get your ass sat on the boat. You can surely get something caught on the line, and then your parents would reach over and get the fish off of the hook for you. Then, you throw the sucker back in, and the process repeats. Really, they’re doing all the work, you’re just sitting there to keep the rod from going anywhere when something does tug back.

And knot tying is easy. Clumsy fingers get better as time goes on, but you observe until you’re eight or nine. You don’t start the knots until you’re nine to ten because the chances of the kids fucking up a perfectly good line with a bad line, is more common than you think. Even the prodigies are prone to messing up on the simplest ones. It’s fine though, they’ll learn it in the next couple years of their life, and soon they’ll be doing it in their sleep.

When they’re bored, they’ll ask for a rope or a wire to mess with so they can fuck around and tie knots. Practice gets you everywhere in this day and age, so there’s no better way to do it than when you’re bored. If you can do it without looking, then god damn, you might as well be teaching the others. Sometimes, you still catch Reed looking down to tie them, and he’s been doing it for over ten years by now.

The room is cold, and it only gets worse as time goes on. Sometimes, it’ll ease up just a little bit, but that’s rare. Every couple of hours, you’re certain. It’s not a constant feeling of the warmth of a goddamn grizzly bear snuggled right up against your side. You wish it was though, then you wouldn’t be shivering and chattering your teeth. They hit against each other, and you think that you’ll bite your tongue or chip one of your many teeth.

Not to mention the fact that it’s wet. There’s always the sound of water running, every now and then you’ll get a drop of water on your forehead or something. Furthering the fact that you’re cold. Who knew a single drop of water could ruin the temporary warmth that you’d falsely given yourself?

You, you guess.

“I-I-It’s cold as b-buh-balls in he-here.” you mutter, going to turn over.

The stabbing pain in your lower abdomen makes your eyes snap open, a muffled scream tries to leave your mouth, but a hand reaches over to place it over your mouth. Your entire body begins to ache. From your neck to your thighs. The left side of your face is swollen and your nose is very much crooked. It’s throwing you off.

When you raise your hand to grab the arm, you see that your own are littered in purple, blue and black bruises. In a panic, you shove whoever it is off, as you desperately tear off the sleeping bag without actually ripping it.

You know who it is next to you. You can see the wide green eyes staring at you in shock. His blonde hair is stuck to his forehead like he just came through the waterfall a minute ago. He’s in nothing but his pants, probably letting his jacket and shirt dry. You can already hear him asking you what you’re doing and he hasn’t even opened his mouth just yet.

“Woah--” Finnick starts, the second you unzip the jacket, pulling it off, “Are you cold? You might have hypothermia--”

“It’s not burning!” you snap, pulling your shirt up, and only then do you slow down for a moment. To see the shirt wrapped around your waist and the blood seeping through along with the bruises blossoming across your stomach, “How many of my ribs are broken?”

“I don’t know.” Finnick sits down now, rather than crouching, “I thought you were dead when I found you.”

You look to him, squinting, “When did you find me?”

“The uh--the night that two had died?”

“Very specific.”

“A couple days after Allio had died.” he tells you.

“Three days?” you ask, you’ve barely been keeping track, and now that you’ve been out for fuck knows how long, this entire thing has thrown it off balance.

“Yeah,”

“Who died? I only heard one cannon.” you mutter, zipping the jacket back up, and you notice that the jacket isn’t very breezy in the back.

Motherfucker! He’s tied his shirt around your waist and gave you his jacket. He has to be freezing, and he’s doing it to make sure that you get better. Or Finnick has an ulterior motive, he’s trying to win you back after he pulled that ass move and left you behind.

Finnick’s face twists with worry the second your eyes turn on him, “I’m sorry, okay? I couldn’t just stay there--”

“Like hell you couldn’t!” you shout, shouting hurts your side, but it’s a dull pain.

“Playing pretend? Playing house? I don’t know how you lasted for so long.” he says calmly.

“It was going well until they fuckin’ figured out that I killed Allio,” you sigh, propping yourself up on the rocks behind you.

“You killed Allio?”

“You killed the girl from six?” you mock.

“And Thyme.” he tells you, moving away from you now, and before you can ask, he answers, “Mercy kill.”

“Who died after that?” you ask, running your fingers over your nose. You’re not too thrilled when it doesn’t hurt as badly as you thought it would. It means that it’s setting. Your nose is going to be fucking stuck like this.

“Guys from ten and three.”

You nearly choke on your spit, “Blaire? Blaire’s dead?!”

“Is that ten or three?”

“Three!” you cry, you can feel the frown on your face before it’s even settled, “He saved me from Lennox. If it weren’t for him, I would have been beaten to death. But I guess he felt like he owed me after I saved him from starving.”

“You saw him a second time?” Finnick looks over his shoulder.

“The day you left I saw him down by the lake or something, don’t remember exactly. Spent most of my time at the pond-lake and he kept showing up. My little bit of company.”

“Leave it to you to make friends in everyone you meet.” he mutters, you glare at the back of his head.

“Leave it to the fourteen-year-old boy to bail on his first alliance to deal with the career pack alone.” you pick up the nearest rock and hurl it at the back of his head for emphasis.

He groans, rubbing it and giving you a small glance over his shoulder, “Like I said--”

“I don’t want another apology.” you tell him, “Or an excuse.”

He doesn’t say anything, staring off into the water.

“Anyone else die?”

“Boy from eight.”

“Any of those kills yours?”

“The girl from eight on the first day, Thyme and the girl from six. Then the boy from ten and also the boy from eight.”

Quick mental math tells you that it’s five. He’s killed five so far, the same as you. Ten people that were in this arena have been killed by the district four participants. Everyone back home must be thrilled. You can’t wait for people to ask you what it’s like being a murder. It happened to Mags, it’ll surely happen to you.

And your response? You’ll ask them if they want to be added to the numbers.

“Damn. You know mine already.” you begin to push yourself up, and with all the noise, Finnick turns.

“What are you doing?”

“Fresh air.”

“You’re going to get the bandage wet.”

“Then I’ll take it off, it’s bloody anyway.” you begin with the jacket.

“Wouldn’t be if you stopped moving.” he mutters.

“I’m going to give you a black eye.” you threaten.

“To go along with yours? Along with that broken nose?”

“Finnick I swear to god, I don’t have a problem with stabbing you to death in here.”

He laughs, “You’re weak. Probably can’t even hold your arms above your head.” it’s quiet for a moment as you debate if you’re willing to prove him wrong, he adds, “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“It’s about to be.” you tell him, grabbing the bottom of your shirt as you very slowly pull it off. It starts in your ribs, and then slowly travels to your shoulders. When the rim--is that the right word?--of the shirt hits your swollen eye, you wince.

“We’re in the third week, I think. Six people left. Four if it’s just me and you.” he looks over.

Final numbers.

“Well, good.” you say, but it’s not good. You’re covered in bruises, broken bones and a stab wound in your stomach. You’re useless. Finnick could have killed you in your sleep and you wouldn’t have known. It would all have been done for you.

Once you start kicking at your shoes, Finnick realizes that you’re serious. He moves over, untying the boots and then helping with your pants. He carefully unties the bandage, since you hadn’t touched it just yet. And then he takes off his own socks and pants so it won’t get wet. Might as well come back into the little cave with dry things to wear.

It’s daytime, you can see it through the water. You put one hand over the stab place, passing through the water. It’s a little hard on the head, from the gallons of water hitting your head. But as soon as you pass through, you’re heading for the pond-lake water.

“It’s salt.” Finnick says as if you don’t already know.

You slip in, and you can hear Finnick splashing behind you. Probably worrying that you’re going to end up drowning or anything. You can swim even in the worst conditions, he can go fuck himself.

Despite this, he holds beneath your arms, helping you into the water slowly. You want to leave the second that the salt water enters the wound, but you push through it. He can clearly see how uncomfortable you are, but allows you to continue. He’s smart, knows not to try and tell you what’s best for yourself. You need to be up and on your feet, running around like you’re good as new.

Not saying that you want to kill off the last four, but there’s no way that you can stay in here for another week. Another goddamn agonizing week of eating fish, drinking iodized salt water and shivering in a sleeping bag. It has to end, you’re hungry, you’re tired, you’re absolutely exhausted to your very bones.

“Mac, Trink and Lennox and whoever the last--”

“Girl from five.” Finnick interrupts, and you nod.

“Girl from five.” you agree.

“What about them?” his hands are very gentle on your sides, and they eventually fade away in the water.

“They need to--” you try, but Finnick’s hand really is ripped from your arm now, jerking you harshly. You’re about to complain, until he’s pulled beneath the water, sending water flying into the air, “Finnick?”

How? How has he--you’re standing in the water! You’re fucking standing in it!”

You take in a deep breath, even though your lungs complain, following Finnick under the water. And you see the crevice he slipped into. A ravine in the middle of the pond-lake, and it goes down a while.

He’s reaching up for you, pointing to his ankle, and then making a stabbing motion.

His knife is on the seafloor, so you grab it. Something is holding onto his ankle and he needs you to save him.

You return to the top for air, knowing that it’ll be your last for a few minutes, and then you dive down. It’s probably not smart to have the knife sticking out from your mouth, or for it to be placed there in the first place, but it makes it easier for moving your arms. Before you know it, you’ve hit the crack, and you’re getting closer to Finnick by the second.

You take it out of your mouth, offering the handle to Finnick. His fingers graze it, and then he takes it after. Your lungs are burning, and you wish you could stay, but you’ll only drown. He’s working at his ankle, as you’re swimming up and occasionally looking down at him.

Then, he gets free, and he’s swimming faster than you are straight towards the top. On the way, he makes you wrap your arms around his torso, before he continues. When you’ve broken the surface, he’s gasping for air, you have a pounding headache, and it feels like you’ll never be able to hold air ever again.

“We need to leave.” you tell him, taking his arm as you pull him back to the waterfall, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” he tells you, and hisses when you take his hand instead.

You pull it up to look at, tilting your head when you can’t see anything, but then you bring it closer, seeing all the little cuts on his fingers, palms…

“Are you using vines?” you turn to look at him, he nods.

“How’d you know?”

“Because Blaire had the same cuts.”

“Sounds like you and Blaire were getting cozy.” he mutters.

“No time for jealousy after you ran off with Thyme.” you tell him, “the cuts aren’t poisonous I don’t think. You’ll live.”

“Thanks.” he says, “Hungry?”

“I guess.”

It’s a bummer that the pond-lake time was cut short. You were really looking forward for planning out the future. What you want to do as soon as you’re better. Mags has to send shit now, you’re awake and there’s no better way to heal your wounds than when you’re cognizant.

You’re ringing out your hair, which has grown a little longer in your time of being in the arena, when there’s a series of chimes, stopping you. Finnick looks to the sky from where he’d been staring off into the water.

“What the hell?”

“Congratulations on being the final six alive.” The gamemaker tells you guys, you feel like this is a trap, and you reach for Finnick immediately, he takes your hand, “There has been a rule change. If you and your district partner are still alive, then both of you may be crowned victors in these hunger games.”

You turn to Finnick the same moment he looks to you.

The gamemaker repeats what he says, as if you guys don’t understand. But you heard him the first time. A loud, crystal clear rule change. Who else would miss something this big?

“We can go home.” You laugh, grabbing Finnick, “Four more people and then we can go!”

“Only four?”

“Only four.” You confirm, pulling him closer.

-- CHAPTER FOURTEEN --

The rule change benefits two districts only. There’s obviously yours, you and Finnick are very much alive. District four has to be celebrating at this exact moment. Mox definitely cried when he received the news, and Reed was surprised. You can see it now.

This isn’t the first time the gamemakers have made this change. Every now and then, when there are districts with two people left in them, they’ll make this change. The particular district that wins, brings home their two kids. Celebrations are grand, bigger and better. And it’s expected that the winners are especially grateful. After all, you guys are supposed to be learning from your mistakes your ancestors made.

It’s only happened ten other times in the last sixty years. It’s not allowed during the Quarter Quells, at all. Because those are the special events. The twenty-fifth they chose the tributes, the fiftieth they got double the amount, and in eleven years there will be a third one. You’re just glad that you’re going to be a victor now. So they can’t throw a huge twist like six kids go in or something.

The rule change is never predicted, it’s a random choice. There have been times in the past where someone was able to guess that it would happen. People found out the system on why they did it, and started to find their way around it. After having the rule change twice in a row, the gamemakers realized that tributes were manipulating it.

They would choose the couples. So when everyone was beginning to cuddle up with each other—except for the huge age gaps like the twelve year olds and the fifteen—it became more common. Again, they figured this out and stopped doing it. Now it’s a once in a blue moon sort of thing.

You got really lucky.

You know that Reed is on the edge of his seat now. He’s cheering you on harder, telling you more advice, even if you can’t hear it. He has to be driving everyone around him nuts, even himself. He’ll be afraid to get on the boat to fish because he doesn’t want to miss anything important, like you or Finnick dying. Reed will be counting on Finnick to keep alive.

However, if Finnick were to die, it’s not an automatic crowning to district one—they have Trink and Lennox still alive, which is why there’s a rule change—they have to survive the other tributes. Kill one of them, Trink or Lennox, it doesn’t matter, then the rules will revert. There will be one victor only.

You could still very much win, it would be a lot more difficult. You’ll be fighting against the four others to make it home. Trink or Lennox would have to be the first to go. To even the playing fields, if one of them is dead, then they can’t team up against anyone.

District One will probably shower the brats with all the riches they can afford. You wouldn’t doubt it if they got special treatment from the Capitol too. They have so many goddamn victors, it’s annoying. There are constantly houses being built for a new victor each year. They don’t win? No biggie, they’ll win next year.

Four won’t get the same treatment as one, or two. You guys will get the houses, the infinite riches and the celebrations the same as everyone else. But it won’t be as grand, it’ll be like the other districts. Four is a career but four is treated like it’s one of the rich districts but nothing important.

Anyway, the rule change is very important. Keep you and Finnick alive, kill the others and go home. You need to wipe out Trink or Lennox, either or, doesn’t matter. And the others will fall into your hands eventually.

“These vines are insufferable.” Finnick whines, you look from where you’re sitting to see that his hands are completely raw.

“Stop touching it!” You kick his arm with your foot, before going back to the fish.

“I can’t, it needs to be fixed.” Finnick mutters, you get up, yanking the damn thing out of his hands before throwing it through the water, “Hey!”

“Mags will send us rope or something,” you tell him, going to look at his expensive ass gift in the corner of the cave, “And then we can make a proper net.”

“Do you even know how?” Finnick puts his hands into the water to wash them off.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Blaire taught me how. I’ll be able to make a sturdy net with some rope.” You tell him.

You take a moment, deliberating if you want to go through the water or not. But the music from a sponsor makes your ears perk up practically, and you’re stumbling through the water, trying to keep your balance from the force of the water.

Mags has sent a couple of things since you woke. The first thing is the cream for the wound on your side. You’ve been applying it every night, and it’s done it’s magic. It’s nothing but a bright pink scar now. She had nothing for bruises, or broken bones. So you’ve had to tough it out.

Finnick got his gift a couple days after he had left, sometime during the second week. You hadn’t even noticed it until you and him went back inside after the rule change. To see the silver trident staring back at you. Finnick was all smug talking about how it had to have cost thousands. All you could say was that he could have done just the same with a spear. But he told you that it wasn’t the same.

Whatever, both of you have your respected weapons now. He told you his technique on how he killed so many. You listened as he informed you of the net, that he would throw over the people, get them trapped and tangled. Then he would come in with the trident and kill them just like that.

Unfortunately, with that technique, it meant he kept losing the vine-nets. He’s made four, and he was on his way to making the fifth. Finnick wasn’t too fond of the idea of untangling the bodies of the people he killed from the nets. So instead he just let the gamemakers take them, because they’ll be able to cut it apart and take the body after that. Plus, he didn’t want to take the chance of the gamemakers getting impatient.

But with a rope, no more tiny cuts in the hands. It saves time, it means you guys can kill more people with the light through the waterfall technique. It draws people in, he nets them, kills them, and then the process repeats. But the nets took so much time to make that it would be hard to get two in a day.

Finnick splashes through the water faster than you can. On the way, he steps on the vine-net, and he hisses. Jumping on one foot for a second, holding the other he whines about the thorns. And then he continues, wobbling on his feet slightly.

“This is why you wear shoes!” You tell him, kicking the vines off to the side, away from where either of you would bother to go.

“It’s the hunger games, I don’t need shoes!” He tells you, grabbing the floating sponsor gift. He brings it all the way back over, being careful not to let it touch the water.

It would be fine, if it can float in the water, then it can sink or take in some. It’s probably waterproof, actually. But you can say that you’ve ever seen a gift sent when the tributes were in the water. This is a first for you.

Finnick stands on the rocks next to you, and carefully unravels the parachute, and then opens the lid. It’s a fairly big gift, so when it shows a shit ton of rope, you cheer slightly.

“See! Told you—“

Finnick tilts his head, pulling up the paper. It’s sogs a little in his fingers since they’re wet, but it would be the same for you. Going through the waterfall had completely soaked you like you were swimming in the pond-lake like Finnick had.

“It’s from our district.” Finnick tells you, moving it so you can see.

And clear as day, it says, “This will work better than vines, District Four.”

Tears gather in your eyes and you have to cover your face for a moment, “Just a second.”

“Don’t worry, I’m crying too.” Finnick laughs, and you move your hands.

He pulls out the rope, weighing it in his hands, “Can this stand four more?”

“It could stand the entire twenty-two had we gotten it at the beginning.” You laugh, he joins in.

You look to the water, there has to be a camera on you somewhere, “Thank you, it won’t go to waste. We love you, and we’ll both be home soon, I promise.”

Finnick nods along, “We miss you tons.”

“Can’t wait to start fishing again.” You snicker, and Finnick punches your arm this time, “No but seriously, thank you.”

You and Finnick slip into the cave, being sure to cover the rope so it doesn’t get wet. When you get inside, you unravel the coil, and grab your knife.

“Gonna teach me how?” Finnick asks, you grin at him slightly.

“Sure. If you promise to be a good sport about it.”

—

If Finnick says that it has worked four times before, then it’ll work this time too, if the others will take the bait. The singles are probably desperate to wipe out the doubles so they’ll be able to go home. It’s the same tactic that you were saying before. They’ll be able to make it home if the doubles are taken out because they can’t team up.

The fire is like luring them to their deaths, almost. The both of you are prepared to take them down, and they might be thinking that you’re stupid for even trying a fire in the first place. Wondering how you’ve managed to stay alive so long with such stupid ideas.

Instead, you guys are clever. You guys have got everything on lock. The fire, the net ready and the trident and spears within grasp if necessary. Unlike all the other times though, Finnick has someone to help. All it’ll take is for them to get caught and for him to stab. There’s no reason for him to even bother helping you with the net.

You’ve made it big enough for them to get caught in, and you didn’t cut the string for the rim. You pull it shut, there’s no escape, and they're tangled in the mesh. Finnick can get them within a couple of seconds, send the body off, and stomp out the fire. Make a new net, rinse and repeat.

“How do you like your fish? Burnt or extra burnt?”

“Preferably not burnt.” You look over to see that they’re practically black, “Remind me why I put you on cooking duty.”

“Because you were wallowing in your own misery?”

“Y’know Finnick, it’s really not that hard to not be a dick.”

“Some girls think it’s charming.”

“I’m not some girls.” You huff, “But I’m guessing Thyme was?”

Finnick rolls his eyes before shoving the burnt fish your way, “I didn't like her like that.”

“Try again.”

“You are jealous.” He looks smug, again.

“Were you jealous when I told you that Blaire, boy from district three that I was hanging out with for a week straight, no supervision. Just me, him, the vines and the water were together? Him teaching me how to weave the vines, me feeding him so he didn’t die? Were you jealous then?” You tilt your head, watching as the smug falls and turns into something else.

“No.”

“Your voice cracked. You’re a fucking liar.” You tell him, “And by the way, it’s your own fault that I had to make friends with other people while you abandoned me. Leaving me to the fucking hounds.”

“You managed it seems.” He goes to eat.

“That’s not the point.” You tell him, “Partners in crime. An alliance! We were in this together!”

“At least we’re in it together now.”

“Yeah,” you mutter bitterly, going to eat.

It has to be only five minutes of silence, before the splashing of water interrupts you both. Finnick jumps immediately, kicking everything out of the way as quickly and quietly as he can. You take one final bite, getting a mouthful before the net is in your hands.

“Dumbasses.” It's a female voice, but it’s not Trink.

“Who?” you mouth to Finnick, and he thinks for a moment.

“Girl from five.” he mouths back, and then shrugs, “Trink?”

You shake your head.

The splashing gets louder as time goes on, and then you can just barely see her silhouette through the water. Finnick nods to you, letting you know that you should do it.

You get a little closer, hands through the water and then you toss it. There’s a yelp, and you yank the rope, trapping her inside. Finnick goes through the water.

“Wait!” the girl screams.

“Who’s the dumbass now?” Finnick asks, and then the cannon sounds.

Crouching down, you cut the rope, “You can send her into the water.”

“The careers--” Finnick barely gets out, you grab onto the spear. Your heart is pounding in your ears when you stumble through the water.

It’s just Lennox in the water, and he’s bearing a sword. When he sees you, he hisses, “Bitch!”

He turns to leave, but you raise the spear, going to throw it. Finnick grabs your hand, stopping you, “Not today.”

“I can hit him.” you reason, and Finnick goes to your ear.

“They’re going to want a show.”

He’s right, Snow will want a show. So, you’ll just have to wait for another time to kill them. It’s a shame, because you could wipe Lennox right off the fucking map, and all you’d have to kill is Mac and Trink.

When Lennox is out of sight, you send the girl from five off.

“He knows where we’re staying.” you lean into Finnick a little.

“He won’t come until he’s prepared with Trink,” Finnick tells you, and you watch as the girl gets taken away. You wonder how the family is taking it. If you make it, then that means on the victory tour you’ll have to see their families.

For you, five to six--you’re not sure if the five girl will count as the sixth, since you didn’t kill her directly, you just assisted--different families you have to face. Stand tall and bear your chest and try not to cry because you’re guilty to the very last cell. You killed their family. You killed that twelve year old boy from twelve.

You killed the girl from ten, the boy from eleven, Eytelle, the boy from twelve and Allio. And now the girl from six. You’ve got five deaths on your hands, and you’ll have to face them.

Is it even worth it?

Yes, it is. You’ve gone all this way, you can’t just bow out of it now. You’re almost done, three more to go.

“I’ll go make a net big enough.” you turn, leaving Finnick outside.

-- CHAPTER FIFTEEN --

The sound of a cannon jolts you awake. Finnick, who’s beside you, jumps three feet in the air as he suddenly reaches for his trident. He creeps out of the only sleeping bag that you have, and he goes to the water. Before he can cross it, you grab his ankle.

“You’ll get all wet.” you whisper.

“I need to see.” he tells you, but he knows you’re right. So he strips free of his boots, socks, jacket, shirt, and pants.

He leaves it in a disorganized pile off to the side. Out of reach of any water that might backsplash when he walks through. You watch as he winces at the cold water, before disappearing. The faint sound of splashing allows you to calm down a little bit.

It would be a blessing to get up and follow him. So he wouldn’t be going out there alone, you’d be right next to him in case there is someone else. Ready to pounce and strike.

They know where you are, so sitting here, inside of this cave makes you feel like you’re trapped. At any given moment they could show up and you would be fucked. Especially with Finnick gone, there’s nothing you can do.

Whatever you caught while being in here, it’s bedridden you. Getting up and around is painful. It’s hard enough to sleep at night when it feels like a thousand tiny needles are jabbing into your stomach. It took you over two hours to fall asleep, and you can take a safe bet that you only slept for a couple of hours.

It feels like it’s only been a couple of hours. You should be wide awake, ready to help Finnick if he were to call for help, but your eyes are drooping. Begging for another couple of hours before your body realizes you’re awake and starts the pain. You don’t close your eyes, laying your head down instead.

The spashling has long since stopped. It’s almost pure silence, except for the sound of cicadas and the random shuffling of leaves. The water is a constant, you’ve managed to drown it out by now. Not even background noise, it’s silence due to the consistency. However, you can hear the waves, coming up onto the shore of the rocks nearby.

You try to focus on them, hoping that there will be an irregular rhythm, but it turns out that they too have their own system. Before you know it, your eyes have closed on their own. You grind your teeth to keep yourself awake, it doesn’t work. Your jaw will go slack and it jolts your awake almost.

With a sigh, you push yourself up. Your muscles complain, and you’ve already stirred something in your stomach. Ignoring it, you begin pulling off your own boots, following with the socks.

You strain to hear any sort of sound that would indicate that he’s alive. Water splashing, heavy breathing, the trident accidentally hitting the rocks, but you get nothing.

The clothes come off a little faster now, socks, jacket, pants. You take a breather because the shirt is going to cause more pain that it’s worth. When you feel like you can tolerate it, two hands on the bottom of the cloth, and a quick movement.

The stabbing appears, and the lines are blurred between your still very broken ribs or the sickness in your stomach. When the shirt is off of you, and you have a moment to breathe, nausea hits you like a truck. You place your hand on the wall to steady yourself, thinking that the cold will jolt your brain.

It works a little bit, but the idea of you puking is at the front of your mind now, unwillingly. You can’t puke, it’s taken you days to work up an appetite. Whatever you have has completely gotten rid of hunger, which is making you drop weight. Finnick can see it, you know.

He gets this worried look in his eyes each time he watches you get up and move. Or try to choke down food, even if it makes you gag. He probably isn’t on your back about it because he knows that you’re trying. You’re not trying to be bedridden, you’re not purposely starving yourself. He knows you want to live, and you guess that he’s waiting for the moment you give up.

It’s charming for him to be worried like that but it makes you feel like a baby. If you wanted to be babied, you would have acted like this since the beginning, even if you weren’t sick. Being incapable of taking care of yourself isn’t a trait that you want in here. Doesn’t get sponsors, at all.

As you get up, you feel like you’ve gained forty years of age. Your muscles are aching, everything hurts in general. The dizziness and the pounding headache comes back. Besides this all, you reach over for the spear, using it as a cane as you hobble your way out of the cave.

The water is cold, and once again, the force of tons of water hitting you nearly knocks you off your feet. On a regular day, sickness and injury free, you would be able to walk through this like it’s nothing. Look at what time has done to you. Made you the goddam laughing stock of the pen.

It’s still dark out, the moon is fairly high, you guess that it’s midnight to one in the morning. It’s an odd time for someone to die, unless Trink and Lennox we’re hunting down Mac or something. Could be the other way around and got himself killed. Mac killed one of them, got away. One of them died of the same sickness you have…

Possibilities are endless here. There’s hundreds of ideas they could have used on you guys. You just want to know what’s so special about midnight, if the gamemakers had done it. Maybe all of you are having trouble sleeping and this is their way of torturing you guys. Subtly, and with sacrifices.

There’s no sight of Finnick, anywhere. Even though you’re already soaking wet, you’re not too fond of the idea of going into the water. The night time is when the creatures come to life. If Finnick had gotten grabbed, then that’s it for him. You can’t go in to save him blind, the automatic right to the win would be given to District One.

You sit in the cold water, knees to your chest as you look over the water, and then the nearby trees. Then to the sky as if they’ll display whoever it is that died. You’ll have to wait tomorrow to see, unless that’s what Finnick is doing.

If he went to the cornucopia by himself then he’s stupid. You get the motive—he goes to see if Trink and Lennox are there, then comes back without being seen—but he’s half naked, soaked in water with a metal trident. The motherfucker is probably slipping and sliding out of his hands.

You sit out there for another ten minutes, no longer tired, splashing the water onto your stomach every now and then to ease the pain. Eventually, you hear splashing that isn’t coming from you. Your eyes dart over, and you see Finnick, trident in hand as he wades through the water. He makes stabbing motions to keep the creatures away.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be so long.” Finnick tells you, “But it’s hard to leave when they’re talking about an attack plan.”

You perk up, “You’re forgiven, what did you hear?”

“Well, Mac is the one that’s dead.” He tells you, but you guessed that already. The psychopaths from district one are smarter than whatever Mac did to die.

“That’s fine.” You tell him, “A bummer, he was nice. But fine.”

Finnick chuckles, he takes a seat next to you, and then presses a quick kiss to your lips. You scowl, because you’re not looking forward to him getting sick too. But really, he would have had to be sick by now if it’s contagious. What the fuck did you get sick off of?

“They want to attack in two days. Build up on body weight and all of that again. They don’t know if we’re the ones that are dead or killed Mac or whatever. Taking a guess it was Mac that died at least.” He informs, you nod along to it.

“Two days to plan their murder, huh?” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he chuckles.

“Any ideas?”

“A few.” You admit, a small smirk coming over your face, “Remember how Lennox choked me?”

“Wasn’t there but yes.” He says, crossing his legs.

“And my last name is Gallows…” you trail off, splashing water a little bit.

“Uh huh.”

“What if we take that extra rope, tie it into a noose, lure him in and hang him?” You look over to see him with the same sickening grin that’s covering your face.

“Sounds interesting. Who’s luring and how are we hanging?”

—

Finnick has to watch you way more carefully now. One of your hands are either on his shoulder, so that you may catch yourself in case you stumble. Or it’s in the crook of his arm, where he’ll be able to swoop you into his arms if your legs buckle beneath you. The sickness is eating away at your muscle.

There are times when you’ll be standing, perfectly fine, and you’ll forget about the illness altogether. And then, your legs will give out, Finnick is diving across the room to catch you so you don’t snap anything like a wrist, trying to catch yourself. Your body will slump, like you’re lifeless, but you’re so very aware of it.

It’s scaring him now. He doesn’t think you’ll make it out alive, he thinks that you’ll die in here, from whatever you caught. You’re not hungry, you gag and throw up most of the food you get down. The lack of exercise is diminishing what little muscle you came into the arena with. There’s a high fever, you’re sweating almost constantly, but then the chills will swoop in out of nowhere. Not to mention the round-the-clock headache.

You want it all to stop. You’ve never got this sick back home, it was the common flu that went around. Only the very, very poor, skinny kids would die to it, since their immune system can’t handle anything. But that’s hardly ever the case, even the poorest people in the district have a fair chunk of change to carry around.

If you’re going to die from whatever Capitol-altered disease, you’d just have it done in a snap. It’s been almost a week of you having it. And the fact that it had gotten so bad overnight is not a good sign. It was just earlier this morning, midnight when you were conspiring with Finnick on how to end this.

It evolved and it’s completely ruined your body within an eight to eleven hour time span. This means that today, tomorrow, or the day after are your final days. You die tonight, it just leaves Finnick to deal with the others. You can’t do that to him, you can’t send him home alone after all that has happened.

You’re not going to give this up.

“Eat.” Finnick shoves the fish into your hands and you take in a small breath, to keep your side from being stabbed.

“Finnick this won’t stay down.” you tell him calmly, but you pick it apart anyway, using the water to drink it down.

And then you stop as you stare at the water, then back to the fish. There’s only really two ways you could have gotten sick. It wasn’t because of Blaire, he was healthy as fuck, and the only reason why he died was because he attacked Lennox while he was trying to kill you.

You couldn’t have picked it up from Trink, Allio or Lennox--assuming that it had some sort of incubation period--because that means they would have to be crawling with the disease too. From what Finnick has told you, they seem to be just fine. You’re the only one dying in here.

Finnick is an automatic no, he isn't sick either and he isn’t catching it. Another reason why you couldn’t have caught it from the others, is because it doesn’t seem to be contagious through human contact.

Which narrows down the possibilities. You got it from eating berries and leaves, fish, or the water. You haven’t eaten berries and leaves in a while though, so those have to be out of it.

It’s the water and the fish, they have something to do with it. It can’t be an allergic reaction, because it doesn’t deteriorate the body like this. If it was a reaction, then you’d be breaking out in hives, through closing in and you’d been dead by now. Unless it’s a small allergy, but that’s not the case either.

“Finnick, what are some diseases passed through water?” you ask, slowly setting the food down.

He tilts his head slightly, “Uhh, E coli, Cholera, Typhoid, Salmonella--? Why?”

Typhoid is the one you recognize, because of the few cases some of the neighborhood kids back home had. With the right treatment, they wouldn’t die, but for the few who let it go on for too long, or didn’t have the money to pay for it, their kids--or themselves--would die.

“The symptoms to…” you lean back, “What’s the--?”

The headache seems to increase, stopping you from thinking any further. You press the heels of your hands to your temples to ease the pain. Of course, it does nothing, but it feels better than just sitting there. You clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes, rocking back and forth.

Think, think!

What the fuck is the cure to Typhoid? Hell, what are the symptoms? What’s it related to? How can you get it?

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?”

Few cases back home. Parents who go down to the sea to collect water. Use for baths, and the kids accidentally drink it. It’s not the salt its--its the bacteria.

“Water,” you look to Finnick, “Have you been treating the water?”

His face twists, and then he pales, “I--I forgot once--”

That’s enough for you to catch it. Just a little bit of contaminated water will get it going. Your body has been fighting off this sickness for a week, and it took you this long to think it over.

That’s not the matter, though. The matter, is that if you don’t get medicine, you’ll die from it being untreated.

“Mags, if you’re listening--it’s Typhoid fever,” you tell her, “Untreated it’ll kill me. Please, please send me something. Whatever it is that’ll cure it. One pill or sip is better than none, please.”

Finnick looks guilty, but you don’t care. It was an honest mistake, he didn’t know that the water was carrying the disease. None of you would have ever knew if he hadn’t accidentally skipped it. You’d still be up on your feet moving around like none of it ever happened.

This must be what he’s thinking, “Finnick, don’t punish yourself for this. Not now, do it later when we win.”

“What if we don’t win because of my mistake?” he asks, you point your finger.

“Hope. You have hope now, because I can’t carry it for the both of us. I forgive you, we’re going to win.”

Silence, as you wait for the sound of a sponsor gift. But the chiming never sounds, letting you know that you’re on your own. It must be far too expensive, or they just can’t hear you.

“We have better things to worry about, Finn.” you shake your head, “We need to do it tomorrow. We can’t wait until the end of the week.”

“I know.” he whispers, “Are you sure?”

“We have to.”

-- CHAPTER SIXTEEN --

There used to be a song that your mother would sing when you had caught the cold. It was more of a poem, but she would sing it like a lullaby to ease your headache and get you tired. It would always be the first couple nights of the cold, which are the worse days, and as it got better, she would stop. A bedtime remedy, to getting you to fall asleep quickly instead of letting you toss and turn through the night.

As you lay awake most of the time now, you think of it all the time. Reciting the words back to yourself softly. You can’t necessarily sing it without waking Finnick, so instead you turn it from a chant to a couple of lines at a time. You decipher the words, find meanings and then you’ll repeat it back to yourself when they make sense.

It tires you out a lot quicker than you thought it would. Lately, it’s been working like a charm. Tonight, it offers no comfort though, because later today, you’ll be luring the last two tributes to their deaths. You’ll be using the last of your strength to win the games. If today doesn’t work, you give yourself permission to fall over and croak.

You’re in the final hours of your life. Finnick might be seeing it, but it’s not as clear to him. He’s not feeling all of it directly, he’s watching you pretend. He’s not seeing the way that you flinch and wince when his back is turned. If only he saw how much pain you’re in.

The second you win, you’ll be fine. You’ll be on that hovercraft, they’ll be feeding you to doctors as Finnick has to watch. They’ll be hooking you up to water and liquid food, and medicine that stops the pain and diminishes the fever. They’ll be working their best to save you, because they can’t have a victor die on the craft.

Finnick wouldn’t need anything done to him. They’d probably take him and marvel. They’d have to fix up a few scars but that would be it. There would be no reason to save him from anything. Unless something goes wrong today, he gets stabbed or something. Not going to happen on your watch, even if he doesn't like it.

The sun rises a little faster now, and you come to terms with the fact that you'll be working off of nothing today. There’s a few things to do to set up the scene, and then you’ll be able to execute it perfectly.

“Finnick.” You nudge lightly, he opens his eyes slowly, “It’s time.”

“Did you even sleep?”

“An hour or two.” You tell him, “Woke up an hour or so ago. Not much.”

“Okay,” he says, you slip out of the bag first. Your muscles slowly stretch, making a low groan come from you. You’ve been stiff for long enough, your body thinks that you’re a statue.

Finnick slowly starts pulling out food, you make the last fire you’ll ever have to make in your life. When it sparks, your hands go over it immediately, the fever might be burning your forehead, fueling your headache but it’s also controlling the chills. The truth is, is that you’re cold as fuck. When you leave, the water will make it worse. But you’ll get there when the time comes.

The both of you heat up the food, watching as Finnick uncoils the rope, trying the noose. You don’t ask him how he knows to tie it, you just watch, and then you prod yourself a little bit. Taking in an assessment of how you’ll be able to turn your body.

Your ribs on your left side are still very painful, turning that way is like getting stabbed. It’ll take a while for them to heal, unless the Capitol has something for that, to get it to speed up and get placed right back where they need to be, not floating around in your body, causing more harm than good.

The bruises are almost gone, they’re just a very light purple now. Pressing on them doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s nothing compared to everything else that you’re feeling. Your body as a whole is weak, so there's no worry about specific knees or arms, it’s just the both of them. Not good, but you won’t have to catch yourself before you use the wrong one. You’re always taking a chance.

All cuts are now scabs, there’s a few more scars here and there, but besides that, you’re ready to go. Finnick finishes eating pretty quickly, you guys finish off all the food that you had set aside. You feel absolutely sick to your stomach, since it was hard getting it down in the first place. Overfeeding isn’t helpful by any means, until you’re trying to put on weight.

If you guys get hungry later on, it’s possible to grab something from the pond-lake or whatever. You’ll be inside of the woods, near the middle, but it won’t be that far from the pond-lake if lunch would be needed. But by the look on Finnick’s face, he’s not that hungry either. He stuffed himself just as badly as you had.

He shoves everything into the backpack. The rope, what water you guys have, which he still looks guilty about. Small meaningless knives that you don’t need, the works. After that, he helps you onto your feet, you both take your weapons of choice, and leave the cave.

There was no point in stomping out the fire, you guys won’t be back. Which is why you guys left the sleeping bag, and all the other little things that came with the backpacks when you got them. For all you care, they can burn up in a blaze. The fire will put itself out before it reaches the water.

Finnick leads the way through the water. Instead of going straight out of the waterfall, a little to the left, you guys go right diagonally. If you were to go straight, you’d head right for the cornucopia. You guys want to do it in one of the big ass trees, out of sight of them in case they were to come looking.

You hold Finnick’s trident, as he holds the backpack above the water since it isn’t waterproof, and you guys don’t want the rope to get wet. You’d rather it be dry, it’ll be more harsh when it gets around Lennox.

“Almost home.”

“We should have built a treehouse. I mean, it’s been a month, we had the time.” You laugh, he snickers.

“Gamemakers would have had a fire.”

“Wouldn’t have been smart. I’m sure that the tourists would have loved to stay in a personalized treehouse! Oh Finnick, do you think we have time?” You bat your eyelashes when he looks to you, he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can hardly stand.”

“So? It won’t be so hard.” You reason about the hypothetical treehouse, daydreaming about having one. What would go inside, how much time it would take. How you would replace materials like nails with vine and all that. Or very thin rocks that you can hammer into the wood.

“No treehouse.” Finnick tells you, and then the both of you laugh at each other.

When you reach the land finally, you guys take the time to ring out your clothes. Then you continue to the place that Finnick had picked out last night. When you get to it, you’re thoroughly impressed to see that it’s a big ass tree, and there’s plenty of land around to run around in. This is a place you could build a house, raise a family and all of that.

Finnick unpacks the rope, you take it, throwing it around your neck to keep it from going anywhere. You tuck your spear between your pants and belt, with the blade down. You take your water and put it in your jacket, Finnick kisses you quickly, wishes you good luck, and then you turn to the tree.

Spear, rope, water, a good luck kiss. Now, to climb the tree without falling. Your body will complain and give you hell for this, but it’s all for the greater good.

You climb the tree slowly, being careful of your left side. Right hand, left hand, right foot, left foot. Occasionally you’ll reach higher than you should, wobble, but catch yourself the next time around.

The spear gets in the way and you have to keep moving the water to where it needs to be. You take a break on the sturdy branches, and continue when it’s just enough to make it to the next one.

Before you know it, you’re at the one branch that stretches over Finnick below you. You wrap your legs around the branch, and even go as far as to tie the non-noose end of the rope to your body. Then, you strip free of the jacket, dropping it for Finnick. The boots follow, and you’re disappointed to see that he dodges where you tried to drop it on him.

“Pants too?” You ask, Finnick shakes his head.

You take a long drink of water, since the sun is in your eyes. And then you take another before dropping it for Finnick, setting up the scene where Trink and Lennox will come along just to die.

Lennox is going to be heavy, he’s had plenty of food to eat from because of the middle. He’s going to weigh what he normally did when he came in. Maybe a few pounds shorter. You however, aren’t at all where you need to be.

The big breakfast helped, but it wasn’t perfect. You’ve got one, two, possibly three pounds more than you had originally. You’ll fail when it comes to pulling Lennox up with the rope using just your muscle strength. To actually hang him, he’ll need something to balance out his weight, almost.

He’s going to be below you, you get the noose around his neck, you yank and what? Choke him for a split second? Finnick will be fucked.

You didn’t propose this part of the plan to Finnick because you knew he would say no. He won’t ever say yes to something this dangerous and risky, which is the exact reason why it’s going to work. Risky, but odds in your favor.

“I’m ready.” Finnick tells you, you nod.

“Let’s do it!”

You cut yourself free quickly, then you measure out just about what you’ll need to fall through on this. Your eyes keep darting to Finnick, worried about when he’ll yell.

You drape the extra rope across the branch behind you, out of sight out of mind. The noose rope is shorter, but still long enough to reach Lennox. Finnick comes over now, standing right next to it, and nods up at you. Perfect length.

It’s going to get shorter though. You tie a constrictors knot, which will be impossible for the Capitol doctors to get off of you, but they’ll manage. They have to save you, and your leg if it’s possible. If there’s no reason to cut it off, then they can’t. It’s not a medical problem, it’s rope.

You dangle your leg, seeing how it reaches the same height as before presumably. Then, you draw some of it back up to keep out of sight of the others when they come in.

Just in time to listen to Finnick give a blood curdling scream. You clench your teeth together, eyes on the direction the others are going to be coming in at. Listening as Finnick continues to scream for your placebo self to wake up. Yelling for Mags to send in some sort of medicine, to save you.

“Please! Please!” Finnick screams, and at the first snap of a branch, your eyes flicker to Trink and Lennox, “No—!”

“She’s not dead yet?” You think you hear Trink ask.

You wonder if the Capitol can spare a false cannon to see what happens. If they’ll attack him immediately, like a bunch of rabid dogs.

“Leave her alone,” Finnick seethes, he’s crouched over, backing up which is drawing the others to walk over. You can see the smiles on their faces from here.

“I’ve got him.” Trink chirps.

“No!” Finnick lunges forward slightly when Lennox gets close to your body, you begin to lower the rope little by little.

Lennox jumps for your body, you can feel your heart pounding in your chest when you free the rope. Only to see it come up short.

“Shit.” You curse, and then you dip your leg over, getting it right around Lennox’s neck.

Finnick attacks Trink, who’s caught up watching the rope. She goes to warn Lennox, but Finnick shuts her up.

Before Lennox can do anything, you take a deep breath. Feeling the fear try to paralyze your body into rethinking this. You don’t let it, you throw your body the opposite side, to the left.

Lennox chokes, you feel the air on your skin as you watch the branch of the tree get further away. Until the momentum comes to a slow, and you’re dangling in the air by a rope from your foot.

You look to see Lennox, face turning purple as he grabs onto the rope to relieve the pain of choking, you curl your body slightly, pulling him up a little, and his eyes bulge. The sound of a cannon startles you, because it’s clearly not Lennox, who you’re staring at, and he’s staring at you. Still alive.

You go to yell Finnick’s name, but it gets caught in your throat. The blood is rushing to your head, the headache increasing in power. The pain just seems to skyrocket the longer you hang here.

“I’m alive.” Finnick tells you, and then you watch as his trident flies through the air.

It misses Lennox by an inch or two, getting lodged in the tree. You sigh, reaching for your spear now. You don’t want to get yourself free. You want to kill Lennox, and you’re sure that it will be a sight to behold, him hanging from a tree, with you suspending him on the other side, a spear through whatever you can get.

With it in hand, you lean forward, your left side aches from the sit up. You and Lennox lock eyes, and he shakes his head slightly, beginning you not to even though his face is a deep purple and blood is coming out of his nose, trickling down his lips.

You draw your arm back, waiting for the rope to stop swaying, and then you launch it forward, the very last of your strength going along with it. You’re not even able to see if it goes through anything. The sound of a cannon gives it away.

“You did it!” Finnick yells, but his voice is drowned, you can hardly hear it.

You can feel your body relax, arms going past your head. You try to blink away the spots, but they don’t go anywhere. In fact, they take out your vision completely.

—

I told her so, and if she say,

That she was wrong,

Then may it be,

A quick little bug,

That will come and go.

—

She will lay,

In clean, white sheets,

A full tummy,

And a cup of tea,

She will rest,

And she will think,

How this will be,

The very last time.

—

But here comes grey,

Water-filled clouds,

She pulls on her shoes,

And her coat,

So that she may,

Go in the rain.

—

I will come,

To the porch,

To warm her of,

What may come,

She will laugh,

She will splash,

But she won’t listen.

Then she will come later with;

Rain-soaked clothes,

Not feeling good,

And beg me to care for her.

(the poem is a circle).

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

#ilguna #finnick odair #lacuna #lacuna chapter thirteen #lacuna chapter fourteen #lacuna chapter fifteen #lacuna chapter sixteen

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brasskier · 3 years

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Here, have an angsty, tiny little fic about Jaskier finding an abandoned shack on the way down the mountain and living as a hermit for a couple months until winter. Inspired by the absolutely hysterical mopey bard pics we got from Witchmas. I’ll eventually put it on AO3, but for now just read it here, below the cut.

When Jaskier stumbles upon the little shack three-quarters of the way down the mountain, he only intends to stay there just for one night. Take a load off, keep safe from any stray monsters that might be lurking about, and ensure he won't accidentally run into a certain witcher. But the shack is actually pretty cozy, and there's some furniture left inside that with a little TLC could easily be salvaged. He's close enough to Caingorn to drop by if he needed something or wanted to workshop a new ballad. So just for the night becomes maybe for a week or two to get my head back on straight and then is further extended to I don't have anywhere to be until winter so why not fuck off and live in an abandoned shack?

He fixes it up nicely, nails the bed up good and tosses his bedroll over the frame so he's no longer sleeping on the ground, tinkers around with the stove until he can properly cook a meal on it, dusts and cleans until he's not sneezing incessantly from the dust any longer. Hunting becomes not only a necessity but a hobby of sorts, and even more than small game he finds himself relishing the tranquility of fishing in the river. He's still not the greatest cook on the continent, but he's managed to avoid giving himself food poisoning. He'll set back on the road for Oxenfurt closer to winter, but in the meantime this is his home. He revels in his newfound self-sufficiency and finds he has little desire or need to drop by town anymore, so he doesn't, and settles into a routine as a temporary hermit.

Geralt is sure he's dead. Every now and again a too-chatty bartender or innkeeper will ask him, "are you that bard's witcher?" He always says no, and they always keep prattling on anyway. "He was a sweet enough fellow, used to drop by 'round these parts time to time, always had that witcher with him." Geralt would grunt and nod along, struggling to be better at controlling his temper with his child surprise now sharing his company. "No one's seen 'em in a while. Reckon he's dead, the poor sod. What a shame." What a shame indeed. Geralt didn't dwell on it, pushed the thought of Jaskier's death (and his guilt) far out of mind. It was the damned bard's own fault if he got himself killed.

After the second or third identical interaction, Ciri (always too bright for her own good) seemed to catch on, summoned all her courage, and asked Geralt about it. "You had a bard, didn't you?" He did have a bard, she'd slowly learn. His name was Jaskier, he was a royal pain in the ass, and he was probably dead, most likely from his own stupidity. She knew better than to trust that Geralt would let someone he held only contempt for tag along with him for decades, but she was reaching his limit on interrogation. She didn't push any further; maybe when she finally got to meet Yennefer she'd know more.

A roving band of Nilfgaardian foot soldiers pressed them out of the way and further west. Geralt and Ciri were finally on the last leg of their journey up to Kaer Morhen; they just needed to head east and every so slightly north, and then they'd be safe. At least it wasn't terribly cold; the threat of capture meant they were wintering far earlier than usual, the trees still cast in orange and gold. But they were exhausted and never really out of harm's way. Which is why, when Geralt caught sight of an unoccupied little shack, he decides they're going to stop a little early, spend the night within the relative security of four walls. He tethers Roach to a nearby post, explains the plan to Ciri, and heads towards the door.

The shed is cleaner than Geralt had expected; far cleaner, he'd almost go as far as to say immaculate. It looks lived-in, a half-finished cup of tea still simmering on the table. Clearly, he'd misestimated the vacancy of the shack. No matter, perhaps the resident might take pity and agree to house them for the evening. He turns back towards the exit - looking like a trespasser will not help his case - but he's too late, and a voice stops him while his hand hovers over the doorknob. The voice, it calls his name. Uncanny realization settles in his gut; he'd recognize that voice anywhere.

It was a pleasant evening, sunset painting his room in pink and orange through the window, and Jaskier was enjoying his evening tea when he heard movement. Eyes wide, he catches his breath in his throat to keep from crying out, and shuffles as silently as possible back to the bed to retrieve his dagger. Moments like these were where he'd silently wish Geralt was still there, and then immediately resent himself for even having the thought. He was a grown man; he could take care of himself. Blade in hand, he clapped his free hand over his mouth when he heard the door creak open, footsteps clomp through his kitchen, a little girl's voice. He dragged closer to the source, weapon drawn, legs trembling. And then he sees a shock of silver hair, the glint of steel. He'd recognize this intruder anywhere.

"Geralt?" He called, inflection somewhere between questioning and accusatory. The witcher turns slowly to face him, dirt caked against his cheek, and for a moment Jaskier feels like he might just pass out.

"Jaskier." He grips onto the table to ground himself, thoughts spinning. And then he catches sight of her, blond curls tucked under the hood of a sooty cloak - the child surprise.

"You're…" he breathes, crossing the space between them in a few easy strides and kneeling before her. "The child surprise." He smiles fondly - looks like Geralt has finally stepped up to take responsibility. The girl cast an uncertain gaze up at Geralt. "Right. I'm Jaskier. Geralt and I, we were… well, we, uh, used to travel together." We used to be friends, or at least he used to think they were.

"I'm Ciri," the girl replied, still obviously skittish, brow knitted with confusion and uncertainty. "Geralt said you were dead." Jaskier snorted, falling back on his heels with laughter and startling Ciri.

"Dead? Brilliant, Geralt!" He waved a hand in front of himself. "I know that's what you wanted, but - gods! - did you run around telling the whole Continent that? Or did you just feel the need to feed your child surprise this lie?"

"The whole Continent told me you were dead," Geralt huffed, arms folded across his chest. "Everywhere I went, 'you that bard's witcher?' Everyone assumed you were dead - 'no one's seen the poor bastard around in months'. What was I supposed to think?" Jaskier straightened up, opened his mouth as if to speak, but Geralt kept going. "I don't-- I never said--" He raked a hand through his hair. "I never wished you were dead." Geralt wasn't sure what he expected - an exaggerated rebuttal, an exasperated shake of the head and a finger pointed towards the door, anything - but instead, Jaskier simply slunk back to the kitchen, slipped into the chair, and dropped his head in his hands.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and Ciri tugged at Geralt's arm. "I'm just-- I just-- it's just a lot, you know? Gods, it's just a lot." Geralt eyed the setting sun through the window - if he wasn't going to let them stay, they needed to get a move on. Jaskier seemed to sense his antsiness. "You can stay the night. Ciri can have my bed."

"Thank you, I…"

"Don't." Jaskier waved him off, rising from the table again. "Just don't leave the place a mess, and I want you gone first thing in the morning." Geralt nodded, and Jaskier lead Ciri to his bed. "It's not much. Sorry."

"It's plenty," she replied, settling in. "Thank you."

"Where will you sleep?" Geralt asked, tone as nonchalant as possible. Jaskier shrugged.

"I'm not tired just yet." He gently lifted his lute up by the strap from the corner. "Think I might play for a bit, just to settle me my mind." Usually, Geralt would've rolled his eyes, told him to shut up - you play that damned thing all day, just go to bed - but this was Jaskier's home, and he did little more than nod. "I'll be off for Oxenfurt in a week or two. If you find yourselves needing shelter again, it'll be unoccupied."

"Thank you." Jaskier disappeared outside, and soon the soft strum of lute strings floated in. Geralt laid out his bedroll next to Ciri and settled down for the night, trying not to eavesdrop on lyrics he realized might be about him. Eventually, the songs slowed, and then dropped off entirely, and Geralt fought the urge to get up and carry the sleeping bard inside like he’d done on a handful more occasions than he’d care to admit. Instead, he fell into an uneasy sleep, and knew that come morning light when Jaskier awoke, they’d, as promised, be gone again.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfic #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #ciri #ciri of cintra #princess cirilla #fanfic #fanfiction #post-mountain breakup

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theawkwardterrier · 3 years

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Fateful Friends

The surprise part 2 of my Steggy Secret Santa gift for the very cool @sagesiren/@theeleganteuropeanwoman - a Peggy POV modern AU avec Bucky and Angie because they wouldn’t allow me to fit them in last time. A somewhat belated Chanukah gift for you - or I guess a very early one for next year?

Summary: An afternoon of helping out Angie leads Peggy to a chance encounter.

Read on AO3

“Carter,” Angie says, tapping a finger against her wrist even though she isn’t wearing a watch. “I love you, and it’s because I love you that I don’t mind telling you that you’re a big liar. You promised 11:30.”

Peggy sighs but saves the document she had been working on. Angie is right. Peggy had said they would leave at 11:30 and it’s already 12:15.

“We can stop at the bakery on the way,” Peggy offers, swiveling her chair around to reach for her purse and coat. “My treat to make up for delaying us.”

“Perfect,” Angie says brightly. She’s a bit flushed: she had refused to remove her parka since she got here nearly an hour ago as a pointed reminder that Peggy had promised only five more minutes, though she had unzipped it after about a quarter of an hour, and she’s also wearing a beret she keeps adjusting even as she insists that it makes her outfit. Still, she hops to her feet readily, hooking her arm with Peggy’s. “And this won’t be a drag, I swear. Just a girl’s day out, the two of us on the town, cleaning out my dead grandmom’s place.” She considers as they stop in the doorway to let Peggy flip off her office lights. “Okay, maybe we’d better get extra of the lemon pound cake to keep things fun.”

Peggy sighs. “Lead the way.”

There had been a bit of extortion involved in the whole business. Six months ago, Peggy had agreed to allow Angie to start setting her up. But after multiple mediocre dates (and one which ended in a well-deserved black eye for the man in question) she had begged off and refused to be convinced otherwise, even when Angie complained that this would ruin her credibility as a romance columnist and swore over and over that she had actually found the absolute perfect guy this time, the one Peggy would truly regret not meeting.

It isn’t that Peggy doesn’t want a relationship. She isn’t being too picky, and she hasn’t decided that her career should be her focus just now. But planning, the precise thing which has served her well her entire life in so many areas, seems to have failed her now. Online dating, singles mixers, allowing herself to be set up by friends, all the tried and tested strategies - nothing has led her to anyone she would even consider as a lifetime companion, and just this once, she has decided that she will leave things up to chance.

Standing firm on the dating question, however, apparently meant that Peggy was required to join Angie whenever requested and to do whatever favors she required in exchange for reneging on their original agreement.

In the end, though, spending a Saturday with her best friend is always enjoyable, even if they’re sorting the belongings of a recently deceased ninety-eight year old woman who Angie refers to as “the old bat.” They try to one up each other for the oddest item found in their cleaning, and eat their way through altogether too many pastries. As they trade off picking playlists, Angie even provokes Peggy’s competitive spirit enough that they both end up showing off their dance moves.

After eight hours of work, Angie decides that they have done enough for one day, even though they’re nowhere close to finished.

“Sixty years of crap isn’t going to shift itself in one try,” she shrugs cheerfully, searching within one of the scattered “keep” boxes for her other glove. “And I was forced to do all this out of oldest granddaughter sexism. I’ll come back next week and make my cousins help.”

Peggy laughs, retrieving the missing glove from beneath the once-fancy living room settee. The two of them gather the rest of their belongings, making certain the lights are turned out before they weave around the boxes to get to the front door.

On the threshold, Angie digs for the keys to lock up the brownstone, a beautiful Brooklyn property which her family couldn’t have bought with the help of a fairy godmother if they had wanted to try today. Peggy breathes in the sharp cold of the night air, turns to comment on it to her friend, then spins immediately back around as a snowball whizzes past her ear and explodes on the façade of the house just beside her.

A man’s voice from somewhere out on the darkened street shouts, “Bucky, what the—” Cutting himself off before actually verbalizing whatever curse he clearly wants to, the man changes tone, calling, “Peppermint hot chocolate for anyone who hits Bucky in the next five minutes.”

In the next second, the street comes so alive with childish chatter that Peggy can’t believe she didn’t notice the apparent army of little ones nearby. Over their whoops and cries, another man yells, “Not my fault that your shot went out of bounds. I just ducked - self preservation instincts, Rogers, if you’ve ever heard of them.”

Squinting into the dim streetlight, Peggy pinpoints where the second man’s voice is coming from, just as the thickly swaddled shape of him is tackled by several smaller forms and pelted with snow from all sides. Another shadow breaks away from the place on the street where last night’s half foot of snow has turned into haphazard forts on either side of a snowy battlefield, jogging toward where Peggy and Angie still stand on the steps.

“I’m sorry about the snowball attack there,” he apologizes as soon as he’s close enough. “We don’t usually drag strangers into our fights, or at least not before we’ve learned their names.”

Peggy hasn't been in a snowball fight since she was twelve - well, fourteen, if she’s being honest - declaring war on her brother Michael back at their house in Hampstead when they were both home from school for the term holiday. Perhaps she's been a bit infected by the lively afternoon or the stress of the past several weeks is finally catching up to her, but she finds herself turning and saying to a man she has never before met, "My name is Peggy Carter, and I'd be delighted to be recruited if there's room for one more, considering that hostilities have already been accidentally declared."

Apparently he didn’t expect a response like this, a strange woman deciding to take a chance. His eyes widen, but only for a moment before he says, "Well, sure, there's plenty of snow."

Glancing back at Angie, Peggy tells her, "There's no need to wait for me while I indulge myself in a bit of winter warfare, of course. Go off home and put your feet up."

But Angie instead looks delighted in a way that's almost outsized for her best friend taking her recommendation to relax a bit. "Oh, I'd never miss this," she says. "I'll just watch our things and spectate from over here." And she unhooks Peggy's purse from her shoulder and shoos her off toward the battlefield.

"Steve," the man says as they set off up the street together. "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. By the way."

"Lovely to meet you," she says politely.

She isn't particularly prepared for this sort of activity - her boots are fairly practical for walking from apartment to subway stop to office though clearly are not meant to do much heavier lifting - but she ventures that it can be forgiven considering how spur of the moment the entire thing has been. However, Steve is not, Peggy notices, exactly dressed for the weather either. It’s a bit too cold for a waist length peacoat, thin gloves, and a loosely hanging scarf, and he seems to have half soaked through everything. When they pass under a streetlight, she looks up toward him and observes that his cheeks are flushed red, though it actually suits him quite well, making the blue of his eyes shine.

"Were you pulled into this under similar circumstances?" she asks.

He laughs a little shyly. "No, Bucky—My friend, Bucky - you'll meet him in a minute—Anyway, his mother invited a bunch of their family over for the afternoon, and between all the cousins there are a dozen kids running around these days. We just volunteered to keep them occupied."

She wants to ask exactly where he fits into the structure of his friend’s family, but they are nearing the place where the children are still shouting and pelting Steve's friend.

"I've brought someone else to even out the teams," Steve calls, and the kids leave off, coming to surround the newcomer instead.

After introductions have been made - Steve's friend Bucky gives Peggy a look which is strangely appraising but completely without objectification - Peggy is informed of the rules (no faces, no sand or rocks mixed with your projectiles, ten seconds of reprieve after you've ducked behind the walls of your team's fort) and assigned a team (Steve's, which sends a thrill running through her which she doesn't care to examine, settling for a decisive head nod and a small smile in his direction).

She had forgotten, in the years since she had last participated in a snowball fight, exactly how exhilarating it could be. Her careful plans for methodical stockpiling and adherence to ideal technique are soon thrown out the window in her haste to simply get the next missile prepared and launched at the opposition. As she and a small girl named Iris fling nearly loose snow at the other side of the street, she finds herself laughing more freely than she has in ages. At one point, she and Steve end up huddled against the wall of the fort next to each other.

"Your hands must be freezing," he comments, and when she looks down in surprise at her red fingers, she realizes that he is right. He strips off his sodden gloves and wraps his hands around hers, trying to press some heat back into them. It’s futile, considering that his hands, while larger, aren’t any warmer, but she doesn’t stop him. When he tries to pass his gloves over to her, however, she declines with a smile.

"Oh, I could never allow anything to interfere with my process."

"Right." He unwraps his scarf instead, offering it to her. "Maybe this way at least some of you will be warm, and you won’t lose your edge either."

She won't swear that it's feeling the wool still toasty from his neck which allows her to jump back into the fray with renewed vigor, but she certainly wouldn't swear otherwise.

Her watch and phone are buried within her coat, but it cannot be much later when the door to what Peggy guesses is Bucky's mother's house opens and a group of people starts to stream out, each member gravitating over to collect particular children. Peggy stands at the sidelines as Steve and Bucky are kissed on the cheeks and thanked for their babysitting efforts. Angie ambles over just as the last of the kids, little Iris, is taken off with a wave of her cheerfully red mitten.

“Enjoy yourself, English?” she calls, grinning as she picks her way down the sidewalk around the disarranged clumps of snow. “Haven’t seen you have this much fun in ages, although it’s also reminding me why I’m never playing laser tag with you again.”

“My skill doesn’t only apply to snow. I’m a bit of a laser markswoman,” Peggy tells Steve who has returned to her side, apparently having finished being showered with familial affection by Bucky’s relatives.

“Laser sharpshooter,” Angie corrects. “Laser sniper. Laser no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners—”

“Angie?”

Bucky has joined them, looking at Angie with surprise which turns quickly into a smile and a hug.

“Bucky Barnes!” Angie says after they’ve broken away. She’s still framing him with a hand on each arm but she lets go to give him a friendly whack on the shoulder. “I should have known there couldn’t be that many Buckys in Brooklyn.” Stepping back so she can face Steve and Peggy fully, she says, “Bucky and I are...I mean, Bucky’s mom and my mom are...Well, we’re...We must be—” She glances up, clearly trying to mentally map out a family tree.

“We’re cousins, somehow,” Bucky fills in smoothly. “Just like me and half the neighborhood.”

It occurs to Peggy that the situation might be awkward - they had just seen a number of Bucky’s relations leaving a gathering to which Angie clearly hasn’t been invited - but Bucky says, without apparent unease, “I guess you’re in the area to clean out your grandma’s place?” and then adds as an afterthought, “God rest her.”

Angie rolls her eyes, though not, Peggy suspects, at Bucky’s insincere tone. “My mother kept making noises that Jersey was too far to come for just the day and couldn’t I just take care of it, so I finally gave in.” She loops her arm through Peggy’s. “Carter here has been the perfect assistant - without her, I’d have either tried to keep everything or just backed the garbage truck up to the front door and set up a funnel.”

“You’d never - you might miss out on some heirloom to hold over everyone’s heads,” Peggy says with an affectionate elbow to Angie’s side. “And I certainly had my fill of fun sorting through objects from decades gone by, along with that snowball battling which capped things off perfectly. But I think it might be time that I started making my way home.” She truly has had a wonderful afternoon, the sort which will live fondly in her memory (including the feeling of Steve’s hands wrapped with such gentle and precise strength around hers), but the idea of a steaming bath and freshly laundered pajamas sounds absolutely heavenly at the moment.

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He extends a hand. “Well, it was nice to—”

“No,” says Bucky, shaking his head, and “No!” Angie adds with hasty vehemence.

“I’m sorry?” Peggy angles herself to try to see Angie’s face, but it’s Bucky who answers.

“You’re soaking wet, and I’m guessing that you don’t live on the next block. My mother would kill me if she found out I didn’t at least give you something dry to get home in.”

“It’s a lovely offer—” Peggy starts to demur, although she is now noticing that she’s quite chilly and it is going to be a bit of a slog home. Before she can get any farther, however, the door to Bucky’s family home opens up and a woman stands silhouetted in the spilling light.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I hope that you weren’t thinking of leaving these two young ladies out here in the cold without inviting them in to warm up.” She walks carefully down the steps, arms crossed over her chest, but she throws them open as she spots who is standing there. “Angie Martinelli, is that you? Wonderful to see you, sweetheart, come here!”

Angie releases Peggy to submit to a hug and a rapid-fire back and forth of greeting. Peggy suspects that their chances of making a smooth escape have just decreased rather dramatically.

“I’ve known Mrs. Barnes all my life,” Steve says quietly from over Peggy’s shoulder. “She’s never going to let you get away with leaving before you at least have on dry socks. And anyway, I promised hot chocolate to whoever managed to hit Bucky, and I definitely saw you paste him at least once.”

She smiles despite herself. “I believe it was peppermint hot chocolate which was promised.”

He laughs as their eyes meet, though his flick downward just after, a new flush filtering through his cheeks that she suspects has nothing to do with the cold.

“And who do we have here?” Mrs. Barnes asks, clearly finished cooing over Angie.

Peggy turns, smile still on her face. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Barnes. I’m Peggy Carter.”

“Get out of here while you can,” Bucky whispers fifteen minutes later, and Angie nods, telling Peggy, “If I ever need you to take a bullet for me, I expect you to remember this moment.”

“Why on earth would we be standing beside each other with bullets flying?” Peggy asks, eyebrow gracefully arched.

Before either of the others can reply, however, Steve takes Peggy’s hand from behind and tugs her away, whispering, “They’re not wrong,” as Mrs. Barnes returns with arms stacked with twenty-year-old photo albums.

“I promised Peggy something hot to drink,” he tells Mrs. Barnes more loudly. She waves them off, probably half from good hostess instincts and half eagerness to force the remaining two into a walk down memory lane.

It doesn’t escape Peggy’s notice that Steve doesn’t relinquish her hand until they’re safely in the kitchen, although it’s quite apparent where it is. She can’t say that she minds, however. With neither of them wet and frozen any longer, it’s much easier to appreciate the gentle solidity of his fingers, the press of their palms against each other.

Too soon for her to have cataloged the sensation entirely, Steve lets her go and starts moving around to the pantry and cupboards. Peggy stands watching him, curling her toes against the floor in the borrowed socks she is now wearing along with an absolutely divinely plush gray cardigan loaned to her by Mrs. Barnes. The lady of the house had insisted on adding the wettest items to the dryer - “As if I would let you back out into the street like that to freeze. My mother would come back and haunt me!” - which had included Peggy’s blouse and coat, though luckily not her singlet or her jeans (damp, but dark enough to have avoided scrutiny, so Peggy hadn’t needed to strategize a polite objection to wearing someone else’s trousers).

“I hesitate to offer considering my skills in this area, but can I do anything to help?” she finally asks.

Steve shakes his head as he sets a saucepan on the stove. “This is about the only thing I can make, but I can do it with my eyes closed.” He gestures her over to a seat, which she takes.

“Why was peppermint hot chocolate the one recipe you ever learned?” she wonders as he lights a burner and adds together milk, cocoa powder, chocolate chips, and a bit of sugar.

“I learned plenty,” he says, angling himself to see her and stir at the same time. “This was just the only one that stuck. My mom worked a lot, and plenty of night shifts. It was just the two of us, so I wanted to make sure she would come home to something warm and good after all of that. She passed a while back, but I still make it for Bucky’s family when I’m around - they’ve always been great to me.”

“Ah,” Peggy says, trying to sound normal and satisfied with his answer instead of a bit overcome by his factual sweetness, the way he seems completely unresentful of the multitude of Barnes relatives while he apparently has no family left. She clears her throat. “And what is it you do, other than distribute homemade hot beverages?”

He flashes a bit of a smile at her, tucking his hands into the pocket of the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Bucky’s old bedroom upstairs. His hair is adorably mussed from pulling it over his head, and Peggy can’t quite tear her eyes away.

“I run the art program over at the community center,” he says, turning to add a few drops of something to the chocolate mixture. From the scent which suffuses the air, Peggy guesses that it’s peppermint flavoring. “Afternoon classes, activities with the schools, workshops. My under-twelve group just put up a display at the local library if you want to go visit.” He sounds absurdly proud.

“How wonderful.” The words come out even more softly than she had thought they would. She tries to pull herself together with the crispness of tapping straight a stack of papers, but doesn’t quite manage it. The soft smile won’t leave her face and she wonders if it might be a permanent fixture now. Oh, they’ll certainly go their separate ways shortly, but she feels that there was some amount of luck involved in her having had the chance to meet him in the first place.

Blinking a little, he turns away and unwraps a few of the peppermint candies Mrs. Barnes has set out in a dish on the counter. “What do you do?” he asks, crushing the candies with the handle of a knife.

Feeling her smile fade a bit into something more businesslike, less touched by gentle joy, Peggy says, “I’m the policy director for a non-profit.” It’s her standard response, the beginning of a slow wade into the more detailed answer. It is also, she has to admit, the beginning of a test, one which nearly all the potential partners Angie had tried to set her up with ended up failing.

“Which one?” Steve asks, gliding unknowingly through the first level of scrutiny as he scrapes the crushed peppermints into a palm and deposits them into the pot, beginning to stir again. (Peggy still sometimes finds herself surprised at how many people are so eager to turn the topic back to themselves that they accept the most simplistic answer and move along.)

“The INRJ,” Peggy says. It seems that she’s holding her breath just a bit as she gives her usual pause. She finds that she does not want Steve to make a misstep in this. She thinks she might forgive him if he did.

“The International Network for Reproductive Justice, right?” The way he gives her a look, double checking, deferring to her knowledge: if there were truly points, he would have earned himself a bonus just then. “Back when it was the International Pro-Choice Network, my mom used to bring me along to play under the table while she was stuffing envelopes or phone banking.” He tilts his head to the side and adds, “Bucky actually reminded me of that a few weeks ago - he saw an ad for the symposium you were holding and thought I should check it out.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, using the reminder of work to shore herself up a bit from melting. “I was meant to speak about the effects of the global gag rule, but I ended up sitting on the tarmac at Heathrow instead.”

He makes a commiserating face. “They did say that the talk about adoption and foster care in eastern European countries was a last minute replacement, although the speaker was really good. I hadn’t realized that was supposed to be your spot. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to speak; I would have liked to hear what you had to say.”

“Yes,” she says, slightly dazedly, the word nearly lost in the sound as he snaps off the burner. “Natasha is quite talented. She always gives a good presentation.”

“The community health initiatives to reduce parent and child mortality in Sierra Leone sounded like amazing stuff too.” He’s still talking as he reaches into a cabinet for a pair of mugs, apparently not noticing her reaction. “I ended up donating to the hospital building fund after I got home.”

She’s told dozens of men over the years what she does for her job, and the responses have run the gamut from indifference to confusion to polite questions, from furious rants about the sanctity of life to pompous assurances of allyship. This is the first time she’s heard one of them discuss her organization’s projects with true interest, the first time everything seems to have been said genuinely and unprompted and without the aim of impressing her.

Which is why it does all the more.

“I was glad Bucky suggested it,” Steve tells her, setting her mug in front of her. He takes a seat across from her, his own mug in hand. “He’s been trying to get me to go to all of these random places lately, and the symposium was one of the more interesting.”

“I’ve actually been experiencing the same thing with Angie,” Peggy says, seizing on the topic as a way to keep her equilibrium. “In the last month she’s taken me to a wine and cheese tasting, a Broadway play, and an art showing at the Sage Gallery, which I actually think I would have enjoyed if I hadn’t needed to spend most of it in the stairwell on a conference call.”

Steve, who had been about to take a sip from his mug, lowers it back to the table. With care, he says, “Bucky tried to get me to go to a wine and cheese night but I had to fill in running a watercolors class at the senior center. We went to a Broadway play but ended up switching seats with mom and little kid so they could be on the aisle.” Voice dropping a bit, he adds, “And I had a showing of some paintings at the Sage Gallery three weeks ago.”

They glance in unison toward the living room, as if they might establish some facts by merely turning in the direction of their friends, but all they hear is the low sound of chatter and laughter.

“Angie has arranged so many dreadful dates for me in the past,” Peggy says, leaning over the table to speak to him quietly. “I told her she wasn’t allowed anymore.”

Steve nods. “When Buck sets me up, they always think I’m going to be just like him, and it’s awful to see their faces when they realize I’m not. I just wanted a break from having to sit through dinner with someone who was disappointed that it was me there.”

The mug is hot against her palms, and she finds herself taking in deep breaths of peppermint-scented steam. “One of these days, he’s certain to find you someone who isn’t an utter bloody fool, then,” she says, and though she truly means the words, they come out soft instead of sharp, an outstretched hand.

“I sort of think,” Steve says, tipping his chin up so his eyes catch the light even as they lock with hers. “I sort of think that he’s been trying.”

Later that night, once she’s tucked away in bed, she thinks about fate and design, the overlap between them, and decides that it doesn’t matter how the moment comes to be if she doesn’t do anything with it. She takes a deep breath and texts him: Your hot chocolate was quite good. Perhaps we could meet sometime so you can show me how to properly prepare it?

Not even a minute later, he responds: I think we can come to an arrangement.

Angie only gloats a little when she hears that a hot chocolate making lesson and a week of texting has led to the arrangement of an actual date. Bucky is not as gracious. Peggy can’t quite bring herself to care, and by the undeniable flicker of Steve’s smile, she suspects he feels the same.

#steggysecretsanta #Steggy fic #Peggy Carter #Steve Rogers #sagesiren

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wayward-mikaelson · 3 years

Text

Winter’s Doll--Chapter One

Word Count: 3105

About: A new recruit joins the team

Characters: Nadia “Nadie” Alekiev, Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Nikola Alekiev, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Bucky Barnes,

Pairing: None

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, a little bit of angst, mention of death, flashback

A/N: There are some Bulgarian phrases such as Baba (grandmother)...,I used google to help me with these, and if I messed something up and you are familiar with these phrases please let me know. I am trying to just keep it simple since my character has Bulgarian background but isn’t fluent with the language except for a few phrases.

*This work contains content meant for the 18 and up crowd.

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Today was the day and Nadia Alekiev wasn’t nearly awake enough to take on the day. She was going to need all the caffeine she could get her hands on. Nadia had been awake since two in the morning wrecked with nerves and excitement. Maybe even fear, since this was such a huge step for Nadia. Every meditation technique she tried, it wouldn’t help her go back to sleep. So Nadia spent her time going over her ‘New Recruit’ packet. The packet was actually a binder that was super detailed. Whoever wrote it really wanted to make sure the reader knew what they were getting into.

Nadia was only allowed to pack one small suitcase of clothes and personal belongings. Everything else, would be boxed up by agents and donated while her small apartment would be listed as a safe house. Something that was hard for Nadia to agree to but, she had been trying to get into the Avenger program for two nearly years. So, she reluctantly signed it all over. Anything to get into the program, right?

As Nadia pulled a decent sized suitcase from her closet, a small shoe box fell to the floor. The contents spilled to the floor. Smiling ever so small, Nadia picked it up and stuffed the small contents back into the box. Nadia almost forgot that she had it stashed up there. It would now be accompanying her to the compound where she would now be living. The box was all Nadia had left of her dead brother.

Right on schedule, a knock came at her door. Zipping up the suitcase and slinging a bag over her shoulder, Nadia took one final look around her apartment before opening the door. This place had been her home for the last decade and had so many happy and painful memories.

When Nadia opened the door there stood a woman with shoulder length red hair and a serious look on her face. “Nadia Alekiev?” she asked, her green eyes were impossible to read. Her voice was professional yet slightly intimidating.

“That’s me,” Nadia gave a small smile shifted on her feet. She hoped to feel less intimidated by the woman standing in front of her.

“I’m Natasha, I’ll be taking you back to the compound while these two gentlemen,” Natasha gestured to two men dressed in black and wearing super dark sunglasses. They, too, were also intimidating. “Take care of the rest of your apartment. Shall we get going?” Down to business, Nadia thought. She nodded.

Natasha lead Nadia to a nice black SUV where the window tinting was just about almost illegal. Placing the suitcase in the backseat of the vehicle, Nadia got into the front seat and buckled in tightly. Natasha looked like one of those women that have a heavy foot.

Once on the road, the nerves started back up again. Nadia crossed her ankles and began to twiddle her thumbs. From the corner of her eye she saw Natasha’s green eye’s zero in on her actions. Nadia crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the road in front of her. She hoped the nerves would calm down. She felt Natasha’s expression on her get hard and her eyebrows furrow.

“How much sleep did you get?” Natasha’s voice was soft. It helped Nadia relax some.

“Not much,” Nadia replied. “Is it that obvious?” she then asked looking toward the woman at the wheel.

Natasha quickly flashed a questionable like smile her way. There was also a sparkle in her eyes. “It’s my job to notice just about everything in my surroundings, Ms. Alekiev.”

Nadia looked down and started to twiddle your fingers again. Great, she thought, my first day and I look tired as fuck. She watched as her fingers played with each other taking her diamond-ruby ring off her finger and putting it back on and repeating the action again. The ring was given to her by her brother before his death.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha’s voice had Nadia look up. “With experience like yours, you would have had no issues getting into any program. Why the two years?”

Nadia turned her head back toward the red head. “Experience like mine?” She asked.

“I’ve seen your file,” Natasha gave a fast look at Nadia then her gaze snapped back to the highway in front of her. “You could have gone anywhere. Why the top?”

Nadia took a deep breath and straightened up. No one asked her that questions before. Not even during the brutal interview process she had endured the week before. She licked her lips before responding. “I believe I have a skill set that is worthy to help out the Avengers. I have combat experience and I am quick on my feet.” And my brother died two years ago in a bombing that had the military discharging me faster than anything without reason, Nadia wanted to say. But she didn’t think that something that personal would have mattered.

What happened next, was fast.

From the corner of Nadia’s eye, she saw Natasha’s free hand snap from her lap. Nadia’s instincts kicked into hyper drive. She twisted the upper half of her body to grab Natasha’s hand. She bends it back, causing her to drop the guns she had drew. Nadia picked up the gun and pointed it at Natasha’s head. The SUV hadn’t even swerved an inch off the road.

“Good, you are quick on your feet,” Natasha said calmly. “Well, quick to think on your ass.” She gave a sly smirk. “I like you.”

Nadia did lower the weapon in her hand. “What the fuck?! So that was a test?” she asked, her voice rose an octave. The adrenaline was acing through her veins and her heart beat a million times a second. “I could have shot you!”

Natasha’s teeth flashed when she smiled at her confused passenger. “But you didn’t and you passed.” Nadia lowered the weapon and slowly handed it back the woman in the driver seat. If she wasn’t a wake before, she sure was now.

They arrived at the compound twenty minutes later. Nadia was still on her adrenaline high while her entire stomach was being attacked by butterflies. At least she hoped it was butterflies. Nadia slid out of the vehicle and looked at the huge building in front of her. This was actually happening, she thought. I’m finally here. She pulled her suitcase from the back and followed Natasha inside the front doors.

“Welcome,” a voice said coming from the left. Nadia stopped in her tracks and watched as Captain America, himself, approached them. Wearing a dark tactical suit that defined his muscles better than his normal tact suit. Then the beard he had almost took up his face. That made Nadia weak in the knees. “You must be our newest member. Steve Rogers.” Steve held his hand out and Nadia took it and gave the super soldier a firm handshake. Oh thank God, she thought, I didn’t pass out.

“Nadia Alekiev,” she replied. “This place looks incredible.” Nadia gestured to the whole room around them.

“It is pretty amazing is it?” Steve crossed his arms. The muscles began to pull at the seams of his tact suit. “I’ll let Agent Romanov show you to your room. We have a meeting at noon in the conference room. Don’t be late.” With that Steve walked away leaving Nadia and Natasha alone.

“Alright,” Natasha motioned for Nadia to follow her again. “Let’s get you to your room. You can rest up and shower there. I’ll come back for you at eleven forty-five to show you where the conference room is. There will also be food and coffee there. Something Steve had done to make sure the team showed up.”

Natasha lead Nadia down to the living quarters and showed her around. It was furnished beautifully with nice furniture that looked like it cost hundreds of dollars. The kitchen and dining area was huge as well. In the far off left corner of the dining area was a fully stocked bar. Complete with bar counter and bar stools. Nadia already saw herself sitting there on the rough days.

“Food is first come and first serve, unless it’s marked down with a name,” Natasha said as she kept walking. Nadia was almost having a hard time keeping up with her as Natasha walked fast and with purpose. “Now here,” She continued back into the large living room. “This is where we all gather for Steve’s boring historical movie nights or Tony’s last minute game nights or whatnot. To the right, are the women’s rooms and to the left are the mens rooms.”

Before Nadia could get a word out, Natasha started her way towards the women’s rooms. “Um, Agent Romanov,” saying her name felt weird coming out of her mouth.

“Please, call me Natasha,” Natasha didn’t look back.

“Okay, Natasha, is the separation to help from other team members from sleeping with each other or something?” The moment Nadia asked that question, Natasha stopped at a room and unlocked it.

“Sort of,” Natasha pushed open the door and looked back at Nadia. “Not since Vision though. He walks through just about anything. But we keep our side cleaner than the boys. Unless your Steve. Steve’s sort of a neat freak. Now,” Natasha gestured into the room. “This will be your room. You have your own personal full bathroom. Bed is made of memory foam. Those guys from your apartment will be by later today to drop off whatever they could fit into a few boxes.”

Nadia’s head snapped towards the red head. “I thought I couldn’t have that stuff anymore? Fury told me nothing more than a bag or two.”

Natasha smiled. “Lucky, you have a team member like me who can pull strings and put the fear of God into anyones eyes.” The look in Natasha’s eyes had Nadia making a mental note to not get Natasha’s bad side. “Alright, this is where I leave you. Shower, relax, I’ll be by to get you at eleven forty-five.” With that, Natasha left Nadia in her room, closing the door behind her.

Nadia looked around at the lightly furnished room. It was very modern with some paintings here and there. It left a lot of room for personal decorating. Nadia wondered what of her belongings would make it and which ones wouldn’t. A lot of personal things Nadia owned were stored at her parents farm house. Gosh, Nadia thought, I haven’t spoken to my parents in almost a year.

Nadia set her things on the bed before checking out the bathroom. It was slightly bigger than her old bathroom at her apartment. The bathtub was separate from the shower. Something Nadia liked a lot since she wasn’t much of bath type of person. The cabinets were stock with top of the line towels and when Nadia touched them, they were softer than anything she had touched before.

Stripping down, Nadia decided to try out the shower. She flipped the water on and adjusted the temperature to what she liked. The pressure of the water hit her skin just right. It was super relaxing. Nadia slide down and sat with her knees to her chest. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

***

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nadia said to her brother as she peeked out the window. “I’m staying here until you can prove that what you said is right.”

“When I have ever said anything that wasn’t true?” her brother looked up from the computer he was trying to get into. “Aside from the time I had you convinced you were actually speaking Bulgarian.”

“I still don’t forgive you for that one, Nikola,” Nadia gave a teasing smirk. “Baba look so confused as I tried to tell her about my runaway turtle.”

Nikola laughed. “Baba wanted to have Mom’s head on a platter because her grandchildren weren’t well versed in the Bulgarian language.”

Nikola went back to work on to hacking into computer in front of him. He had to prove to his sister that the government that they had signed their lives over to were selling off elite soldiers to underground domestic terrorist groups. Nikola knew that once he and Nadia had that information it would be time to fall off the radar and run.

“Nadie,” Nikola called his sister by her nickname. Nadia didn’t know that night it would be last she heard it. “If anything were to happen tonight, I need you to know that I am right about all of this.”

***

Nadia woke up in the shower. The water was still hot, but one look at her fingertips, Nadia knew that she had been in the shower longer than she should have been. Turning the water off and grabbing a towel, Nadia wrapped herself up and walked out into your room. You saw the clock on the wall, eleven thirty.

“Wow,” Nadia spoke to herself. “I was in there for a few hours.” She unzipped her suitcase, pulled out a decent shirt and jeans and threw them on. Then she quickly brushed through her hair and threw it up into a hair band. By the time she was finished, it was eleven forty-five. Perfect timing.

Nadia made her way towards the door and when she opened it there stood Natasha. “Very impressive,” she said smirking. “I also see that you got some rest. How do you feel?”

Nadia followed Natasha through the living quarters back to the main part of the compound. “Better than this morning to be honest,” Nadia said as she was now able to keep up with Natasha.

The two of them walked into the conference room. Three of the four walls were all glass, but not just any kind of glass, the strong kind that would most likely need a tank missile to break it. Just like Natasha had said earlier, there sat coffee on at a small coffee bar. Nadia went straight towards it poured herself a cup.

As she turned around she saw some people make their way into the room. They grabbed their coffee or food. Nadia recognized Tony Stark, as we took three muffins from the food tray and at at the table. A ginger haired woman saw Nadia and smiled at her as she patted the spot next to her. Nadia made her way over to the woman and sat next to her.

“I’m Wanda,” the woman said. “You must be Nadia.”

“How?” Nadia started to ask until she heard the chair next to her move and somebody occupy it.

“Wanda, here, she can read minds and move things with her mind and do this weird red light thingy.” It was a male. “It scares me sometimes, honestly. I’m Clint, the bow and arrow guy.” He reached his hand out and Nadia shook it.

“Weren’t you supposed to be heading home back to your family?” Wanda asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that was until Cap said I needed to stay until after the meeting and now I see why,” Clint took a bite of his muffin.

Nadia smiled some and turned to see Steve walk in, he had changed into a dark t-shirt and jeans. The person who walked in with him was just slightly taller than him. His hair was shoulder length and Nadia couldn’t help but notice that his left arm was completely made of metal. The way he smiled and nodded when Steve said something had Nadia mesmerized.

When he turned away from Steve his eyes locked with Nadia’s. His bright, clear blue eyes stared into her dark brown eyes. The smile that had been on his face, slowly faded as he lost himself in her look. Nadia felt like her breathing caught in her chest when this mans eyes slowly looked her over. Steve then tapped the mans shoulder and said something to him and he made his way to an empty chair. The man looked again at Nadia who gave him a small smile before looking down at the coffee that sat in front of her.

“Okay,” Steve’s voice was loud and firm. “As you all know, we recruited a new team member. Some of you already met her already or saw her as you walked in. She’s ex-military, special ops. Very well versed in hand to hand combat.”

“She’s also very quick to think,” Natasha threw in. Nadia thought back to when Natasha drew a gun on her earlier that day.

“Nat, please tell me you didn’t,” Steve’s voice trailed off and Nadia looked up to see him with a hand over his face. Nadia also didn’t miss that the man next to Steve still looked at her.

“Oh I did,” Natasha said. “She passed that part. Now to see her in a combat like situation.” Natasha leaned her arms on the table and her green eyes looked deep in Nadia’s.

“Okay, well, “Steve shuffled the papers in front of him then looked up at Nadia. “Avengers, this is Nadia Alekiev. Nadia, this is the team. Now, since today is a free day, we won’t have you show off your skill set.” Steve looked at Clint and then back at Nadia, “Well, maybe two hours with Clint before he goes.” Nadia saw Clint throw his head back next to her.

“Alright,” Clint finished his muffin. “But you owe my kids a laser tag game.”

“And I,” Nadia eyed Tony Stark getting up from his seat to snag more muffins from the counter. “I will have Pepper arrange a nice little welcoming party for Miss Alexis.”

“Alekiev, Mr. Stark.” Nadia said as she straightened her back. “I know it’s hard to pronounce, you can thank my Bulgarian parents for that. Next time just call me Nadie.”

“Mmm,” Tony looked over at Steve was eyeing the situation. Tony looked back at Nadia and took a bite of the muffin in his hands. “You know what,” he said with his mouth full. “I’m going to call you Alexis from now.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Nadia rose an eye brow and smirked at Tony. Tony gave a small huff and walked out. Nadia followed with her eyes and didn’t miss the attractive small smile on the man with the metal arm who still looked at her.

Steve ended the meeting shortly after that. Clint stood up and with his hands on his hips he said “Let’s get this over with or my wife will find a way to kick my ass.”

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king-finnigan · 4 years

Note

Could I request some cold calculating bamf Jaskier, like using poisons etc :O Thank you

CW: slight mentions of animal cruelty and domestic abuse. also straight-up murder.

Geralt doesn’t notice at first. It’s only when Eskel points out, one winter at Kaer Morhen, that the Count of Ironwick recently died in his sleep, apparently, that he starts to think that maybe something’s up.

It’s because he’d recently passed through Ironwick, before he headed to Kaer Morhen. Hell, he’d even taken a contract from the count himself, and the man had seemed in perfectly good health. Sure, Geralt can’t say he mourns the count’s death - the man was an absolute bastard, making his citizens pay way more taxes than was considered reasonable, only to spend it on concubines and golden trinkets - but it is suspicious.

But he decides it’s none of his business. It never is - he’s a Witcher, after all, and Witchers aren’t supposed to interfere with human politics. If he was, he would’ve run a sword through the bastard himself, but that is neither here nor there.

So he brushes it off.

---

The Alderman of Salthold dies a few days after Geralt’s passed through town. His cause of death is a topic of heavy discussion in the surrounding towns, for the next few weeks - which is how Geralt found out in the first place. Apparently, the man had tripped over a rug in his room, and had fallen from his fifth-story window.

A suspicious death altogether. When Geralt asks Jaskier what he thinks, the bard merely shrugs. “Don’t really care,” he says while he continues scribbling in his notebook. Got what he deserved either way.” His face darkens, and Geralt frowns. “I’m sure the horses in his stables are happy to have him gone.”

The shadow disappears from Jaskier’s face, and he smiles up at Geralt, changing the subject.

---

The Baroness of Crowside falls ill on the second day Geralt and Jaskier spend at her court. She seemed in pretty poor health when they arrived, but nothing to warrant her sudden and untimely death, a few days later. Sure, he’s glad to know that her heirs will at least pay Geralt for ridding the town of a pack of Barghests - because clearly the Baroness wasn’t planning on paying him or any of her servants - but it sure is... suspicious.

---

He starts to notice this pattern more and more often, after that. People meeting their untimely death after it is revealed to Geralt and Jaskier that they’re horrible people who do horrible things. He finds out after a few months that it’s not just nobles this is happening to; he just knew about those because they’re public figures, so their death is more noticable.

No, this is happening nearly every time they pass through a town and see someone hurting others or hurting animals, or something of the like. The farmer that malnourished his cows is found a few days later trampled by the very herd he starved; no one mentions the fact that his throat was cut. The healer in town who was using his position of power to take advantage of people dies in an explosion in his laboratory, even though he was highly-skilled and very experienced. The smith who beat his family gets crushed under the spare anvil he’d suspended from the ceiling, even though the metal chains were strong and brand new.

Suspicious death after suspicious death, in nearly a quarter the towns they pass through, only days after they left, sometimes even while they’re there, still.

It’s embarrassing that he doesn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together until he wakes up in the middle of the night in their modest campsite, and finds Jaskier gone.

He looks around, frowning, straining his ears to listen for any sound of the bard. The worry grows when he doesn’t hear a heartbeat, footsteps, or soft humming. Which means that Jaskier isn’t nearby.

Geralt gets up, gathering his swords, and he walks around the clearing. Finally, he smells lavender and sandalwood, to the south - heading back towards the town they left earlier that day.

He frowns again, quickly following the trail.

Why the hell would Jaskier go back to the town they were in just now? Why would he do that in the middle of the night? And without warning Geralt? What could possibly be so important? Maybe he’s under a curse of sorts, something that’s forcing him to go back. But that can’t be the case - Geralt doesn’t smell the familiar ozone scent of magic anywhere, and his medallion stays completely still against his chest.

Eventually, he reaches the town, right in time to see Jaskier scaling down a wall. Ah, so it’s just another one of his conquests. But... usually he doesn’t hesitate to just tell Geralt about the fact that he’s meeting someone, he’s never been so secretive about it. Not only that, but the window he climbed out of is completely dark and devoid of any sign of life - as is the rest of the house.

And, most importantly, this is the Alderman’s house. Geralt remembers it clearly because he’d been there earlier that day with a Drowner head to prove that he’d done his job. Even then, the Alderman had only paid him a quarter of what he’d promised Geralt, and had insulted Witchers straight to his face.

He remembers the outraged look Jaskier’d had, he remembers the bard asking him why he wouldn’t do anything about it - you’re ten times stronger than him, for goodness’ sake!

And then he remembers the suspicious deaths that seem to follow them wherever they go.

He narrows his eyes, the realization battling in his head with the image of sweet, kind Jaskier, with his sparkling, blue eyes and his easy smile.

But Geralt had seen that smile turn into a sneer, those blue eyes turn icy, whenever someone had insulted either of them, whenever Jaskier saw someone who couldn’t defend themselves get hurt, whenever they stumbled upon an injustice and Geralt had told him that he couldn’t do anything about it because he’s a Witcher, and Witchers aren’t supposed to take sides.

When Jaskier reaches the edge of the woods, Geralt steps out of the shadows. The bard doesn’t even visibly startle when the Witcher suddenly appears in front of him, though his heartbeat speeds up for a moment or two, before calming down again.

“Ah, Geralt! I was just taking a lovely evening stroll.” He taps the side of his head, smiling at Geralt conspiratorially. “Insomnia, you see.” His heart picks up again, and if Geralt hadn’t already known Jaskier was lying, he surely would’ve, now. “I hope I didn’t wake you up?”

It’s then that he notices a bitter twang under the familiar scent of lavender and sandalwood, and he inhales deeply. Poison.

Jaskier starts to fidget a bit under his unrelenting gaze, and smiles nervously. “Everything alright, Geralt?”

He scoffs, but nods. “Yes, I’m fine. But the Alderman isn’t, is he, Jaskier?”

Jaskier’s heartbeat picks up again, and Geralt can smell the unmistakable scent of guilt and anxiety emanating off the bard. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Geralt.”

Geralt crosses the distance between them, grabbing Jaskier by the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. “I’m sure you do, bard.”

Jaskier laughs nervously, hands in the air in surrender. “Geralt, I really don’t-” He pales when Geralt’s hand disappears into the bard’s pocket, reappearing with a small, empty vial. He uncorks it with his thumb, holding it to his nose. He inhales deeply, his suspicions confirmed, and throws it over his shoulder.

“I know poison when I smell it, Jaskier. The Alderman is dead, isn’t he?”

Jaskier’s fearful face falls, his expression hardening into something that sends a shiver down Geralt’s spine - a pleasant one, though, surprisingly. “Look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t deserve it, Geralt.”

“You can’t just kill someone for simply not paying us.”

Jaskier scoffs, rolls his eyes, his hands lowering from where they’d been hovering next to his face. “Oh, please, of course I can. And I have. And I would do it again.”

Geralt studies his face for a few seconds longer, and Jaskier stares right back at him. “How many?”

Jaskier raises his eyes to the sky, lips moving slightly as his fingers twitch, counting under his breath. He frowns, looks back at Geralt. “Just the ones that didn’t pay us, or the others too?”

Geralt blinks. “The... the others, too.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes, continues counting for a few seconds. “Do accidents count too?”

Geralt huffs in disbelief, looking to the side. “Sweet Melitele, Jaskier.” It doesn’t shock him as much as it should’ve - he feels like this is something he’s known deep down for a long time - but it doesn’t horrify him either, this knowledge that Jaskier has just been killing people left and right. If anything, it makes something hot and heavy settle in his gut.

“I don’t know how many, exactly, but I think... about forty to fifty people.”

“Good gods,” Geralt mutters, his breath catching in his throat.

He can almost imagine it, Jaskier with a poison vial in his hand, standing over an unsuspecting victim; with that cold look in his eyes as he pushes someone through a window; with blood spilling over his hands as he cuts a man’s throat.

“Can... can you fight? With weapons?”

Jaskier frowns, seemingly confused, but indulges him. “Yes, actually. Sword, dagger, crossbow, you name it. Perks of growing up royal, I guess.”

His heart’s hammering in his throat, mouth suddenly dry. “Tell...” He swallows thickly. “Tell me not to kiss you. Tell me not to take you back to our camp and show you exactly what you do to me. Tell me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, his pupils growing ever larger, swallowing up the blue of his eyes nearly completely. “I can’t. I won’t. If you want to claim me, then claim me, Witcher.”

He pulls Jaskier closer, crashing their lips together in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, yet somehow absolutely perfect. He bends down a bit to grab at the back of Jaskier’s thighs. The bard gets the message and jumps up, wrapping his long legs around Geralt’s waist.

Geralt turns around and breaks the kiss, sucking red marks into the side of Jaskier’s neck as he starts walking back to camp, basking in the soft whimpering sounds Jaskier lets out.

Behind him, in the Alderman’s house, a woman screams.

#Anonymous #geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cold bastard jaskier #cw murder #started writing it #had a breakdown #bon appetit #jk i actually liked writing this #but this is the only prompt im doing tonight cause i'm tired and i'm stressed because i'm starting my internship tomorrow #so #sorry #squish answers #drabble #kinda fucked up but like #good fucked up??#idk

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

chicken noodle soup

pairing: chef!bucky x plus!reader

warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, a little angst. just a dash.

word count: 1779

description: chef!au; bucky makes you chicken noodle soup when you’re sick, and you guys have a talk.

note: i’m extremely sick and this is what i wrote, i needed a little comfort. if you have a request for the next dish, let me know loves.

just a taste masterlist

You watched the corded muscles of his back from your spot on the sofa. His right arm moving up and down, steadily chopping carrots as the garlic and onions sweat in a large pot on the stove. His left arm, something you still didn’t ask him about, mottled skin covered with blooming flowers, a rosary, whisping into a vintage pinup girl that posed on his forearm, hands tangled in her hair as she arched her back against the flowers behind her as if laying in a field of flowers.

His left arm held down the vegetable, knuckles facing the knife as he cut the carrots into thick pieces, practiced fingers running against the blade before he switched hands, left moving not quite as steadily, but still practiced.

You were sure your apartment smelled delicious, if only you could smell it.

He came over even though you’d told him not to. Last night when you’d stumbled in your front door after a very draining workweek. The winter deadline met, first quarter final report submitted and a head pounding and nose clogged you’d collapsed onto your couch with a bottle of NyQuil. Dead to the world.

He’d called worried, you’d been telling him you hadn’t felt well all week. “You need to rest babydoll,” He scolded, you’d rolled your eyes on the phone with him, your heart warming with the concern laced in his voice, toeing your socks off before slipping under the covers. “Stark can go a day or two without you.”

“After this week ends,” You said, “I just have to meet Friday’s deadline and then I’ll rest.” Friday had happened, and everything was done. And you collapsed on your sofa. Resting.

His call came in two hours after you’d fallen asleep, a groggy, “Hi baby.” And he sighed,

“I’m coming over.” You snuggled deeper into the cushions of the sofa you’d spent way too much money on, suddenly appreciating how large and soft it was.

“I’ll be fine,” You croaked, “Really.” But you could already hear his keys in his hand.

The food truck had been doing really well, well enough that Bucky and Sam hired some extra help. A kid named Peter who needed an after school job that would just handle plating and taking money while Sam or Bucky cooked, finally giving them enough time off between them to start seriously looking for commercial space for their restaurant. Something Bucky had been giddy about for weeks.

“I told Sam I needed tomorrow off,” He said, toeing off his boots by the front door. Your sleepy face peering at him from behind the blankets pulled up to your nose. “But I’ll have to work Sunday.” He had a large paper bag he’d set on the counter before padding over to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You really didn’t have to come,” Your nose stuffed and red, a pile of discarded tissues next to you on the coffee table and reruns of Survivor playing on TV. He rolled his eyes, picking the snotty mess of tissues up and saying,

“When’s the last time you ate?” You didn’t know. “Here.” A glass of orange juice and a glass of water, “You need liquids.” You sniffled and he ran his fingers best he could through your tangled hair. “Wouldn’t you rather be in bed?”

“I’m comfy here.” You mumbled, eyes half lidded. He nods, brushing his thumb across your cheek,

“Sleep babydoll, I’ll wake you up to eat.”

He’d refilled your water, the small sips for your scratchy throat was a marvel. He’d placed a pack of honey cough drops and a new bottle of NyQuil on the coffee table. There was a multi-pack of tissues sitting still in the plastic beside them. The tv had been turned down to a quiet amble. He was listening to some kind of podcast in the kitchen.

He poured a box of chicken broth into the large pot. A smaller pot next to it cooking egg noodles. A ginger root sat idly beside the stove.

You knew Bucky loved to cook, he loved making you things you’d never tried before, he’d love to experiment with flavors and you were his own personal guinea pig to try new recipes. They were trying to nail down their menu after all. But he would also make the best comfort food that warmed your very soul.

He knew exactly what you needed and when you needed it. And this soup, as stuffy and clogged, as your head pounded and your body ached, you needed this soup.

He stirred, a strand of hair falling into his eyes. It must be late. He’d changed into pajamas. The loose sweats and t-shirt wasn’t what he was wearing when he first arrived. He must have felt your eyes on him, turning to look at you as you pulled your lips into a chapped smile. He laughed softly,

“You look so pathetic.” He joked, pulling a bowl from the cabinet.

“I am.” You whined, rubbing your head against the pillow, comfortably watching him scoop some noodles into the bowl before ladling the broth on top. Chicken, carrots, celery, mushrooms, a bit of grated ginger, the broth was dark from some soy sauce. Red pepper flakes mixed in and garnished with cilantro. “Spicy Asian chicken noodle soup.” The broth hit your nose and you could almost feel your sinuses clear then. “You’ll be able to breathe again by the end of this.” His socked toes meeting yours as he curled up next to you, sitting you up and handing you the bowl. “I know you like spice.”

It was so fucking good. Runny nose be damned. You hadn’t realized how hungry you actually were. A bowl was finished, and then a second. His fingers tracing up and down your spine while you ate.

“If you’re not feeling better by Sunday, you should call out on Monday.” The soup had been packed and stored in your fridge. The noodles separate from the broth. “Stark can afford to go one day without you. You have those sick days for a reason.” You know. You know.

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you tight into his chest.

“I’m gonna get you sick.” You mumbled into his soft well worn shirt. His fingers massage your scalp, your eyes drooping.

“I’ll be fine,” He pressed his lips to your head, “Don’t worry about me. Sleep sweetheart.”

And you did.

“So next week Steve is coming up from DC for the weekend.” Bucky called from the kitchen, heating up the leftover soup from last night, “If you’re feeling better by then we were going to go out to dinner, he’s been asking about you and Sam and I think it would be good for you to meet him if you can.” Steve. The other part of the trio.

Bucky had told you they were inseparable once, meeting in basic training the three of them becoming quick friends. Their paths crossed a year after, the three of them chosen to be part of a special ops squad that moved mostly undercover. It didn’t need to be said that the story behind his left arm was buried there somewhere. But he wasn’t ready for that yet. And that’s okay.

“If you’d like me to.” Honestly it gave you anxiety. You and Bucky hadn’t really had the talk yet, the two of you not even breaching the conversation having sex after spending the majority of the last month together. There was making out, kissing, and a lot of it. But if he wanted you to meet

Steve it must mean something right?

But there was still this paranoia, this little niggling in your brain that made you feel like the rug was going to be pulled from beneath you. Just like it had before.

How many times had you been really into a guy and when it came to the point, in what you thought was a relationship, to meet his friends or family he was suddenly really shady about it. A guy had literally told you once, “My friends would make fun of me if I dated a fat girl.” That had been a heavy blow.

And you know you’re beautiful, you know you’re smart, and you know that you can survive on your own. But you didn’t want to anymore. You wanted to start working towards a partner, possibly getting married, maybe having or adopting kids. And Bucky seemed so perfect. A little too perfect.

“Of course I want you to.” Meet Steve. The bowl was carefully handed to you while he settled down next to you with his own bowl. “Why wouldn’t I want you to?” The soup was just as good as you remembered it from last night. It had been late, almost one am when the two of you cuddled up on the couch and cleared your sinuses for the first time in a week.

You shrug, spooning more of the spicy salty broth into your mouth. He gives you a strange look, “You’re my girlfriend,” Brow scrunched, “Girlfriends typically meet their boyfriend’s friends.” Your chapped lips parted and closed, “I mean I know we never like, officially, said anything, but… I thought you knew we were together.” His voice sounded a little sad. His eyes meet yours, placing his bowl on the coffee table.

You shook your head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know if you wanted to--” You sighed heavily, “I’m sorry. No, we are together.”

“Did you think we weren’t?” The bowl was taken from your hands and gently placed beside his on the coffee table, grasping your cold hands in his.

“I… I didn’t know,” It was hard to look at him, “Sometimes, it’s just…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it more clear what my intentions were.” His voice level and reassuring, “I want to be with you, I want to be your boyfriend.” Your eyes glassy. Your period was probably going to start soon, to be fair. You’d cried during Masterchef earlier when the girl had burned her sauce. It had been devastating.

“No, I’m sorry.” You shook your head, “Communication goes both ways and I just didn’t think to ask.” In case you said no. He softly pressed his lips to yours,

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” You sniffle,

“You’re gonna get sick.” Bucky rolls his eyes, smiling,

“Are you gonna answer my question or not?” You bit a little dry skin off your bottom lip before nodding,

“Yes.”

The next weekend had been at his own apartment, his stuffy nose and watery coughs a mimic of yours. The dinner with Steve would have to wait.

taglist // @bookish-shristi @saturnki @jennmurawski13 @geeksareunique @the-soulofdevil @tinmunky @albinotigerpython

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #sebastian stan

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angstsfordays · 4 years

Text

Tell Me Now

Summary: The best part about love is always that bit before you actually confessed your feelings and officially be together. That mutual pining and fluttering feeling. But that would not last forever. You got to tell that person someday before it’s too late.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Main pairing), Steve Rogers x Reader (Supporting pairing)

Warnings: LOTS OF FEELINGS. Maybe a few swear words? Mutual pining and much slow burn that will make your heart ache.

Word count: 10889

Notes: Thank you for supporting my story: Stay with Me and For You! If you haven’t check it out, be sure to do so! I’m back with a new post that has been in my drafts for a while. Since I’m finally on a break from school, I managed to continue working on it!

This time, I’m back with a Bucky story and it will be in the same universe as my two other posts. So for Bucky’s stories, Steve’s girl will be named Ro(salie). In Steve’s stories, Bucky’s girl will also have a name (undecided yet) otherwise it will just be weird like Reader 1 or 2. Just take note again that Ro (in this story) is an OC from my previous two related stories!

Hoping that this story can cheer everyone up in these difficult times. Take care and stay safe! Wear masks and practice social-distancing! Anyways, hope y’all enjoy this one too! IT’S REALLY LONG BUT I HOPE IT’S WORTH A READ. Let me know what you think! 😊

———————————————————————

“I imagined you would have plans on a Friday night.” You were still in a deep pile of work before the voice of your boss snapped you out of your concentration.

You could not hide the frown that formed on your face as you looked up to meet his face. “I wonder who decided it would be a good idea to have a crossfire in the Amazon forest.”

“Well, we can’t decide where the bad guys want to be? Plus, no people were hurt, we were well away from civilization.” Tony tried to downplay the aftermath of the previous mission. The team were intercepting the trafficking of dangerous weapon materials by a rogue organisation. Said organisation thought it would be escape unscathed and undetected through the biggest rainforest from Earth’s mightiest heroes.

“There were no people but there were tons of wildlife, Tony! Animal activists and nature conservationists are basically rioting! That’s two more to add to the list of people that are pissing at the Avengers!”

You retorted at your boss’ almost nonchalant attitude. You knew he was not surprised that the Avengers always received backlash even if they were only trying to save the world.

It was a long week for you, having to clear up this PR stunt caused by the Avengers. You have started working for Tony Stark as his new assistant for the past six months. With Pepper taking over Stark Industries as CEO, Tony Stark could solely focus on his Avenger duties.

However, even with Friday, he needed someone on the ground that could help him with matters that require human interactions. More specifically, to deal with the Public Relations side of the matter.

Needless to say, while people are grateful for the Avengers, there are some who weren’t. Mainly any government authorities who aren’t able to control the Avengers. Fame has two sides of the coin and Tony Stark hardly has time to juggle bad press and public relations on top of his Avenging duties.

You were recruited after you left your previous job, playing the whistle blower to your company whom you found out were involved in shady dealings linked to Hydra. You refused to defend them and save them with a PR campaign, thus you gathered all evidence and decided to throw them under the bus.

Life was hell for you after, you found yourself to be in danger courtesy of your previous employer. He decided to hire a Hydra agent to take your life and you were fearing for your life. You knew that you might not be able to convince the police to help you with this matter and you were sure that you would be dead.

But with whatever luck you had left, the attempt at your life was intervened by the one and only Avengers. You still remembered how your door was knocked down by Captain America and Black Widow decided to make an entrance through your window. What a dream, right?

You remembered shaking terribly as both Avengers fought off your terribly strong assassin. As you backed up to get away from the scene, your back collided into a hard chest. A cool, metal hand had held you close and your heart leap in fear. You turned back to see the Winter Soldier, as stone cold as you have known him from the news, his eyes held a reassuring stare that prevented you from screaming your lungs out.

You did not know what prompted your next actions but you threw yourself at him, arms encircling neck and hiding yourself in his warm embrace. You hoped that he could protect you. You did not want to die just yet, you believed you still had a lot of things to fulfill in life.

And that was basically the beginning of your new life. After being rescued, Tony recruited you into the Avengers though not as an Avenger. You wished, ha! Instead, you were hired as the PR director for the Avengers. Tony Stark was impressed with what you did previously with your previous company and decided to hire you to manage PR for the Avengers. God knows he would not want to deal with that.

It was also to make sure you were under protection with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes and that you did not need to worry about any attempts on your life. The agent and your previous employer were dealt with. You were in a much better place now.

“Come on kid, let me make you a drink.”

“I don’t think that it is appropriate in the workplace, boss.” You jested but you knew he mean well. Tony is a great boss despite his occasional oddities. He respected and trusted you, and that is all you really ask for in a boss.

“How about as a friend?” He shrugged off your previous comment before gesturing you to follow him to the exclusive lounge area for Avengers. This was entirely different because it was located in the private living quarters of Avenger members. All other personnel did not have access to it, even you until not long ago.

When you were first introduced to the team, you could not believe yourself to be in that situation. You became fast friends with the girls and it was Rosalie or Ro as she liked to be called (who’s also Steve Roger’s girlfriend) that made you feel at home with the team.

She was impressed at your bravery to stand up to injustice and made it a point to be your friend. She would sometimes ask you out for lunch or coffee, eventually inviting you to hang out with the rest of the girls.

All of them were so normal, unlike their fierce and badass images as Avengers. You could really see that they were just normal people with everyday problems. They have come to seek your advice on everyday stuff, such as dress for a party or planning a surprise for their significant other.

Then one day came the big question.

“Do you have anyone special, Y/N?” You crinkled your nose at Ro’s question and shook your head. You never thought about it since you have been busy with work.

You had only one serious boyfriend after college but you broke off the relationship when you realised that he was not the one for you. He wanted you to be the trophy wife in his life, proposing to you a couple of years after you started your career. He assured he will take care of you as he started climbing up the corporate ladder. He wanted to start a family but you knew you wanted more.

You wanted your own career and be part of something more meaningful and bigger than yourself. There was no way you wanted to be confined to a home taking care of children. Sure, you might hope for it in the future but you knew the potential that you had. You were not going it to give it up so easily.

“Never really thought about it.” You shrugged as you drank your iced coffee.

“Oh come on, Y/N. There are plenty of guys here in the compound, don’t tell me there isn’t one that caught your eye.” Your eyes widened at Ro’s words. While subtle, your body language did not slip past the keen eyes of Natasha Romanoff. There was one guy. Maybe. But you were not going to let them know.

“There isn’t any.” Your answer was curt before taking another sip of that coffee.

“You’re lying.” Natasha answered smoothly, if you were not close with her you would have stopped yourself from throwing daggers at her with your eyes.

“There isn’t-” You look to Wanda who was giggling at the exchange and your eyes widened at the possibility of-

“Wanda! Don’t you dare!” You warned the young girl as you knew what she was capable of. God forbid she read your mind and figure out whose image first popped in your mind. She threw her arms mockingly and gave an expression like she would not dare to so even while she had a wide grin on her face.

“Who is it?!” Ro started getting excited at the prospect of her friend having her crush.

“No one! Oh look at the time, I need to brief Tony about something-some meeting- something…BYE!” You hurriedly walked out of the pantry. You knew that the girls would hound you for answers and you were not ready to face that yet.

———————————————————————

“Earth to Y/N. Yoohoo!” The sound of Tony’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts once again and the incident with the girls that happened only yesterday.

“Wha- what?”

“I asked for your favourite poison?” Tony quipped before he started to open the cabinets for his liquors.

“Uh- surprise me with your best.” You tried to give a fast answer as you were just interrupted from your memory of yesterday. Tony threw a smirk over his shoulder before he went ahead to get some ice.

“Oooh, is Tony making drinks?” A new voice appears and you turned to see Ro entering the lounge. Behind her were the rest of the Avengers who were slowly filing into the room.

“Be prepared for an amazing show.” Tony started to wave his hands like a showman. He closed the cocktail shakers and started doing an awkward dance to a song that he requested Friday to play. It was overall cheesy and greasy, unlike his usual public image.

You started laughing and clapping to cheer him on. There was some holler in the background and Tony finally poured his concoction into a fancy glass. Adding in a small umbrella, he presented it to you. You turned to the rest of the team to show it off before taking a sip.

“It’s called ‘I cannot live without you’ because we cannot live without you now, Y/N.” Tony did a dramatic wave his hands before bowing. You chuckled at his theatrics before downing your drink.

“On behalf of the team, we’re sorry that you have to clean up our shit.” Tony exclaimed to which everyone snorted but agreed. They knew they owe you big for clearing the PR mess after every time they had to do their job of saving the world.

Natasha and Wanda decided to join Tony behind the bar and make some drinks for everyone as well. Everyone took a seat around the lounge table near the island and Ro took the seat beside yours.

“You worked hard, Y/N. Thank you.” She went in to hug you from the side.

“Anything for you, baby.” You petted her like she was your child.

“Thanks again, Y/N.” Steve (you could never get over the fact that you were on first name basis with Captain America) chimed in. You responded with a salute and spoke.

“Just doing my job, Steve.” The rest all started sitting down one by one with drinks passed out. Everyone fell into easy conversation.

A flash of blue passed by your eyes and you saw Bucky Barnes taking the sit across you. He was dressed in a long-sleeved blue Henley with dark pants. He just had his hair cut short and you could not help to leave a small gasp when he turned to meet your eyes.

You immediately swerved to face Ro who was talking to Steve. Seeing that she was busy in conversation, you turned your head to the other side to meet Natasha who was giving you a confused expression at your flustered one.

Your hand reached out to your drink to get another sip, unknowingly Bucky’s own fingers brushed against yours to reach out for his drink on the same table. Your eyes immediately averted to scan his reaction and he gave you a curt polite smile. You tried to muster a response, any really to show that you were cool-headed.

Bucky threw in another nod as he raised his drink and you nodded in response to his gesture, his mannerisms threw you off guard. In your almost entire year of working with the Avengers, you barely had a solid interaction with the Winter Soldier.

By that, you mean that the most interaction you had was a nod in the hallway, a greeting in the morning when you passed by the gym on the way to your office or when he saw you getting off work in the evening. There also was the occasion asking of refills for coffee when you see him in the pantry. And that was it.

Your first meeting with Bucky had left a big impact on you because for the first time you had felt an indescribable emotion that only he had on you. You had always had a strong independent spirit and never felt the need to depend on someone. That was how you were raised in your household and your parents had pushed for you to exceed in life, given that you were from a second-generation immigrant family.

That kind of mentality had been ingrained into your life and you never let your guard down with people. Not until that fateful day…. for the first time you just wanted someone to depend on. But no matter, Bucky Barnes is out of your league, you reminded yourself.

You have seen how the gaze of female agents or staff move over to him whenever he stepped into the room. He did not even need to try, which was even the more annoying part.

Snap out of it, Y/N.

“Hey Y/N, you would not have gotten sick of us, yet right?” Sam quipped up in the conversation. You did not know what the context of the current conversation was but you just decided to answer away.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Is a drink really going to make me stay?” You shook your empty glass and Wanda initiated to refill it.

“Well then ask away, my dearest and indispensable employee. What would you like as an early bonus?” You jokingly made a serious face and looked like you were pondering hard on the question. Nothing really came into mind as you were happy with what you had for the moment.

“Maybe a vacation?” Natasha suggested with her brows raised. You nodded with a thoughtful expression, that would indeed be nice. Would you go to the beach or the mountains for a nice personal retreat?

“That’s too simple. You should use Stark’s card to the fullest advantage.” Sam said smugly and you returned with an expression that showed agreement.

“How about a boyfriend?” Ro’s voice suddenly injected into the conversation. You swerved your head to face her, eyes widened at her bold suggestion.

“Oh, what’s this all about?” You could already imagine the gears spinning in your boss’ head and you really wanted to strangle Ro for a quick minute.

“Y/N deserves someone special in her life, you have been overworking her too hard Tony.” Ro continued with a playful expression and you swore you were going to lean over and-

“Get some, get some!” Sam started cheering to which Ro joined. The both of them acting like children.

“I don’t understand, what is Miss Y/N getting?” Vision suddenly asked in the midst and you saw Wanda giggling with an embarrassed expression at her boyfriend’s innocence.

“Stop it, Rosalie! You know I don’t like to talk about this!” You gave a fair warning to the hyped-up Avenger whom Steve almost seemed embarrassed of as he sighed at his girlfriend’s antics.

“Hey! You know I don’t like it people call me Rosalie!” Ro retorted as she folded her arms.

“Well, you crossed the line first.” You threw back a squinted glare.

“Oh come on, I just want you to find someone that can make you happy because you make us happy.” Ro started walking towards you with her hands outstretched, wanting to give you a hug.

“Uh-uh, you don’t get to be all cute on me after what you did. Steve might fall for it but I won’t.” You held up an accusing finger to which Ro pouted.

“Steve, she is so mean to me.” The girl started pouting and went to sit on Steve’s lap, hugging him like a teddy bear. Steve returned the embrace but not before looking up to you and mouthed to you ‘sorry’.

You knew Ro meant well like a sister but you REFUSED to speak of your non-existent love life in front of everyone (well specifically HIM).

“Oh come on, Y/N. Ro just wanted the best for you. It’s important to work hard but one must play hard” Sam added on with a smirk to which you threw him a glance that hinted for him to zip it.

“You sure there is no one you’re interested? I happen to be a great matchmaker myself on top of being a billionaire, playboy wait scratch that I married with a kid, philanthropist…” Tony gestured to himself smugly.

“How about no Tony, I am not going to be one of your special projects.” You waved your boss-friend off before running your hands through your hair, exasperated at what tonight’s conversation started leading to.

“Oh come on, there are plenty of men in the compound. Take your pick, any pick. I will set you up.” Tony insisted and made a gesture to actually pull up a holographic database of all personnel data.

“Oh my god Tony. Believe it or not, I don’t need your help and I am not confident about YOUR taste in men.” You gasped in shock at what he was doing and wanted to squirm into the corner of the couch that you were sitting on.

“Well then, I am sure you will be confident in my taste.” Natasha’s voice pulled you out of your recluse and you returned a disbelieved look towards the redhead.

Your eyes averted once more to the beautiful brunette in blue across you to gauge his reaction to all this sudden intervention. Bucky looked aloof and amused altogether, he had his usual calm demeanour but you could make out the small upward curve of his lips. What was he really thinking about, you wondered.

“Argh fine. If I let you have your way, can we stop having this conversation that I never needed.” You issued an ultimatum to the group; you just wanted this conversation to end.

“Deal.” Natasha answered while Ro nodded eagerly from your side.

“Fine, If there is someone nice, you can introduce him to me.” You threw your hands up in defeat before crossing them over your chest, signalling to the team that you are so done with this ordeal.

“Yay!” Ro got off Steve’s lap and started doing a celebratory dance by swing her hands in circles. Everyone’s attention went to her and her little dance was met with amusement. You could not help but to laugh at her excitement, your eyes suddenly caught the sight across you.

Bucky Barnes suddenly had a hardened expression on his face unlike before and his eyes stared right into your soul (as cheesy as it sounds). It suddenly threw you off guard because this was probably the most intimate interaction you had with each other and you immediately tried looking everywhere but him.

“Please promise he won’t be weird.” You turned to your redhead friend and requested with a pout. Her eyes fleeted somewhere else before meeting yours.

“Trust me, Y/N. Believe it or not, I am a psychic when it comes to this sort of things.” You definitely had faith in your friend, I mean she would never sabotage you. Right?

———————————————————————

You return to work on Monday well rested. You manage to give yourself a personal retreat over the weekend by visiting cafes and bookstores. You even baked some Nutella tarts on Sunday and planned to give it to the team to share.

As you stepped into your office to put your things down, Friday requested you to head down to laboratory. You gave yourself one last look in the reflection of your glass office, straightening your tan midi pencil skirt and light blue blouse. You took your Stark Pad and place the earpiece on your left ear.

You were ready to face whatever work would bring. You took light confident steps to the level that the laboratory was on. Walking in to the open lab space, you saw Tony and Bruce exchanging playful banter, well more so on Tony’s side.

The two men’s attention turned to you once you stepped into the room and you were welcomed with smiles.

“What’s up, boss?” Your eyes went to Tony before going to Bruce. “Morning, Bruce.”

The scientist returned your greeting with a warm smile before walking back to his workstation. Tony signalled for you to follow him as he started pulling up holographic images and was looking through some data information. “So how’s your morning?”

“Good. Friday said you wanted to see me. What do you need me to do?” Your statement made Tony rolled his eyes as he made a jokingly exasperated expression.

“Diving into work talk so early at 10? Relax Y/N.”

“Some people actually start work earlier, Mr Stark and I’m not paid to relax.” You knew Tony was unlike any boss, he definitely had his quirks but it was not something you could not work with.

“You almost sound like Cap for a second there, how did I get such an employee like you?” Tony almost looked thrown off for a moment but you knew it was in jest.

“You offered me a job after saving my ass from an assassination attempt on my life.” Your deadpanned expression drew a laugh from your boss. He held up his hands before resting one on his hip.

“You never fail to surprise me Y/N. Anyways, okay onto business, we have a visitor and I need you to show him around.”

“Alright? Who is it?” Looking up to your boss with curious eyes, you were surprised when he let out a sigh- as if he were actually concerned about the matter.

“The government is sending in an agent to check in on the Avengers for a yearly assessment. It is part of our compliance to be transparent with what we actually do. Of course, we do not divulge mission information and all that. But they do want to know how we run operations on a general basis.”

“And you chose me because….” Your brows furrowed at the sudden revelation of information.

“You are the perfect person for the job. You know exactly what and what not to show them without infringing on our privacy.” Tony answered nonchalantly while instructing Friday to work on some scientific analysis.

“Right, of course. I’m the PR girl.” You answered with a knowing expression.

“No, you’re now my trusted adviser and there is no one else I trust with the task.” Tony looked up to meet your eyes with a serious expression for a short moment.

“Adviser? I’m just in charge of PR.” Placing your free hand on your hip, you made an exasperated stance as you gave Tony a questionable look.

“Oh well, would you look at that? You’ve been promoted. Congratulations, that will be your bonus for handling the Amazon stunt.” Tony started clapping to himself before making a grand hand gesture.

“Seriously, Tony? That’s like my job, it does not call for a promotion.” Your brows quirked and you had to give him a ‘I’m not buying this’ expression.

“Well, I’m the boss. I’m right, you’re wrong and thus I can promote you.” He gave you an all-knowing expression before he suddenly had a look that said he was reminded of something. “He will be here in 1 hour.”

“You are giving me 1 hour to prepare? Oh my god, Tony. That’s too little time!” You started stomping in your heels before frantically looking to your Stark Pad and asking Friday to send you information on your soon to come visitor.

“You can make it work; you always do.” Tony gave you a thumbs up with an eat-shitting grin. You could not even return him a verbal response and let out a short grunt before making your way out of the lab.

“I am experienced enough to do this. I am capable enough to do this. I can do this” Chanting a mantra to calm your nerves, you started preparing information on your Stark Pad to come up with an agenda to welcome the government agent.

You were definitely going to request for a vacation soon after this.

Walking to the lobby at 10.45 am, you stood by the receptionist desk as you waited for your visitor. You chatted with the receptionist, Jenny briefly to calm your nerves. She was a sweet-looking lady in her early 40s who was a single mother of two boys. However, her appearance was just a façade as you knew her to be tough and hard worker who was great at her job.

You once witnessed her putting a rude government employee who was here to accompany a higher up in meeting with you boss. She took no shit from the man who looked down on her for being a ‘front desk lady’ and asked her to get coffee.

That moment never failed to make you feel good about being a woman.

Looking down at your Stark Pad, you read through the profile of your visitor. Keith Wellings. Age 45. A federal agent with the US government for almost 20 years. This man rose the ranks quick to his connections and tenacity to mix with the right people at the right time. He is definitely going to use this opportunity to curry favour both sides.

He will definitely make it hard to pass assessment in exchange for favours from your side. Keith will definitely be careful on how he presents this assessment to his bosses as he definitely knows the government will go to any lengths to get dirt on the Avengers. He will be on the offensive on this visit. You need to make sure he does not cross any line.

You could hear the footsteps before you saw someone walking through the door. To your surprise, the man entering through the door does not look like the one in your tablet.

He had a sense of familiarity around but where had you seen him before?

“Y/N Y/L/N! How has fate brought us together again?” His voice ringed an alert in your memory and you took an intake of air to calm yourself. There was no way it could be….

“Teddy Radnor?” Your voice was soft but you knew he could hear you. This was evident in how his face lit up at your recognition of him.

“It’s great to see you again.” You did not anticipate the hug that was coming for you and almost dropped your tablet as he pulled you in for one.

Teddy Radnor was your college friend. You both were studying the same major and became fair friends. You saved him from getting humiliated at a party by agreeing to be his ‘hot’ date as part of his frat house orientation. You were from the sister sorority which you only agreed to join as it was free housing on campus.

Teddy was a bit of a dork back in the college years and he was only in the fraternity because his family were legacies. You still thought he was a nice and sweet guy, albeit he started being clingy seeing that you were the only person who was genuinely nice to him. You did see him as a friend and brother though you knew he saw you otherwise.

While you did attract some attention from guys, you were focused on your studies. Teddy made sure to be the buffer and saw himself as your unofficial boyfriend. You tried on many occasions to give him the hint and ultimately told him the truth. He seemed to accept it but he believed that he could stand a chance one day in the future.

You lost touch with him upon graduation. You were busy in your career and you heard that he was busy advancing in his too. You just never thought you would be reunited after five years later under such circumstances.

“Wow, you’re working with the Avengers? That’s so awesome.” Those were his first words as he released you from the hug.

“Yeah, I switched job. And you’re working with the government? Wow.” You tried to match his enthusiasm.

“Yes-yes, not easy but I figured if I worked hard enough, I would be able to work in a place of importance.” Teddy’s words reminded you of why you were friends with him in the first place. Even while he’s sometimes awkward and couldn’t take a hint on your unrequited feelings for him, you knew he was a good person.

“I’m proud of you Teddy. I know you always wanted to work in public affairs.”

“Well, I could say the same for you. You’re working with the Avengers. I can’t believe I’m also here. Keith had another work thing so I was called in at the last minute to replace him.” You nodded in understanding. So that’s why Teddy was here.

Lady luck had to be on your side. You knew Teddy and Teddy definitely would not make it hard for you. This assessment would be a breeze.

———————————————————————

You gave Teddy a walk through of the entire compound, from the back end communications to the training grounds. He looked like a child at a playground with a piece of candy. You were sure he would give you the benefit of a good assessment.

You had lunch with him in the cafeteria and was ready to seal the deal when you heard him mention one important thing. “I know it sounds unprofessional of me but between friends, I want to let you know that I’m secretly a huge Avengers fan. I was stoked when I got the call to come in.”

“Oh yeah, who’s your favourite?” You tried asking casually, trying to hide the fact that you had a plan up your sleeve.

“Oh my gosh, they are all amazing. They truly are, but it has to be Cap for me. He really is the cream of the crop for me.” Nodding deviously, you already had a feeling that Teddy’s idol had to be Steve. Teddy was the history buff back in college.

“Of course, I understand Teddy. Well, it just so happens that I am acquainted with Cap and I could introduce you to him.” You gave your most award-winning smile to hook him in. Teddy looked at you for a moment before speaking. “Oh I see what you’re doing.”

You tried to conceal your expressions and gave him a confused frown at his words. Shit, was he catching up? “You’re trying to butter me up.” Shit, he did. Teddy continued on talking.

“And it’s working slightly but I still have to be impartial about this assessment, Y/N.” You heaved a small sigh of relief before smiling sweetly up at him again. “Oh come on, Teddy. I am just doing this for an old friend.”

“Old friend, right….” It was meant to be a mutter to himself but you could hear it loud and clear. You tried to brush it aside as you asked him if he was done with lunch. The two of you cleared your plates before continuing the walk through.

You brought Teddy to one of the lower levels and stopped in front of the door. You did not have to do anything as Friday recognised your presence and went ahead to open the door for you. Teddy turned to look at you in amazement once more while you returned a smug look in return at his response.

The two of you were brought to the sight of an Avengers-only training exercise. Saving the best for last, you peeked at Teddy’s response and had to bite your lip from forming a full-on grin.

Hook, line, sinker.

———————————————————————

Bucky Barnes had to focus. Steve had come up with a new training regime for field operations after reviewing past mission scenarios.

Playing to each member’s strength, Steve came up with offensive and defensive pairings for field combat. He was paired with Ro in the exercise, she was on defence while he was offense. While Ro had firepower with the nature of her powers, Steve decided she suited long range attacks with her ability to fly and that she can direct her powers from a further distance.

The duality of her flame like energy blasts was able to incinerate and tranquilize made her perfect to defend the team from attacks. Bucky on the other hand, more experienced in operative work will be the one to sneak into enemy lines and obtain the necessary data or item of interest.

In this particular scenario, Ro had to build an energy -based force field to defend the both of them from raining firepower. The rest of the team collectively tried to break the barrier while Ro had to endure it and bring Bucky into the ‘enemy base’.

Bucky looked over to see Ro enduring attacks from both Vision and Natasha. Steve was overseeing the practice while Sam took the side-lines to help Steve with the analysis of the training practice.

Bucky focused on defeating the holographic images that Wanda was conjuring to mimic potential enemies. Bucky’s ears suddenly perked up at the sound of new arrival into the training room.

Looking up, he saw you with an unknown man who seemed like he was in awe of everything. Bucky broke concentration for a moment and felt himself being punched in the jaw by one of the holographic enemies.

“Bucky, why are you not focusing-” Steve’s words were interrupted as he too looked up at the presence of new arrival into the room.

“Alright, we can take a break. Buck, Ro, the both of you were doing great. It was the right decision to pair you two together. We can resume again later.” Steve’s approval was all he needed for him to let loose and catch a breath.

Reeling away from Captain mode, Steve immediately switched to boyfriend mode. He went ahead to grab the water bottle and towel before making his way to his girlfriend. As Ro immediately gulped down the water, Steve lovingly wiped up the sweat on her face and placed a peck on the side of her temple. Bucky could hear him whispering ‘You did so good, darling’.

Ro gushed outwardly at Steve’s words by muffling her squealing into the towel. Steve chuckled at how she can still be blushing like a schoolgirl even when it was a year into their relationship. Bucky started to feel envious because he also wanted that relationship with someone too. Perhaps with someone who just entered the room.

The mysterious man and you started making way down the steps to the training grounds. Bucky gave the guy a once over, he looked decent enough but he didn’t like the way he was standing so close to you.

“Steve, I would like for you to meet someone. This is Teddy Radnor, he’s an agent from the government and is in charge of the assessment today.” You finally revealed who and where the guy was from.

“Captain Rogers, it is an honour to meet you. It’s an honour to meet everyone here, really.” This Teddy fellow stepped ahead to give Steve a handshake. Steve, putting on his public persona greeted the guy with a courteous smile.

“Likewise Agent Radnor. I hope you had a good experience.”

“Oh definitely. Y/N here has been a great host.” Agent Radnor placed his hands around your shoulder as he responded. You looked slightly taken aback by the sudden contact which made Bucky felt defensive all of a sudden.

As he was standing nearest to you, he though of taking a step forward to intervene when you turned to smile at Agent Radnor, looking embarrassed. What was going on-

Steve must have sensed the same thing he had because he asked what exactly Bucky had on his mind. “You two know each other?”

“Yes, we were college friends and in the same fraternity-sorority house.” Agent Radnor was quick to answer eagerly as he looked to you for affirmation. You just silently nodded in agreement.

“Oooh, college friends. Were you two close?” Ro started to join in the conversation as she stood beside Steve.

“Yes, yes indeed. In fact, I kind of confessed to her but she told me no. She did not see that way and wanted to focus on her studies which I respected that.” Agent Radnor seemed very pleased with his answer when it garnered intriguing responses from the rest of the team.

Bucky already started to dislike him.

“Teddy!” You were shocked at his sudden revelation and looked like you wanted to crawl into a hole as you brought up the Stark Pad to hide your face. You had a grimaced expression formed on your face after removing the tablet from your face. Your frown then turned into an irritated expression causing Bucky to follow your line of sight to find out what was the cause of it.

Bucky turned to see the girls namely Ro, Natasha and Wanda exchanging hush whispers with Cheshire grins on their face. Steve, Sam, and Vision did not know how to react in this circumstance and looked at each other awkwardly. Bucky did not like this man one bit.

“I’m sorry. Too much information. I always tend to be socially awkward when I’m nervous. I babble and say awkward stuff. I guess it’s because I’m just such a big fan of everyone. Oh wait, too much information again. I’m an agent and should be impartial during this assessment-” Agent Radnor started blabbering on and on, it was almost uncomfortable to endure.

You placed a comforting touch on his arm and tried to calm him down. ‘It’s alright Teddy, they’re just normal people like you and I.’ Bucky heard you say to him.

Even if Agent Radnor had embarrassed you before, you still offered him reassurance. That was one of the many things Bucky admired you, how effortless you were with people and the comforting presence you brought when you were in the room.

Bucky knew this was why you were so good at your job and that Tony Stark trusted whole-heartedly to place the well-being of the Avengers as your highest priority. He admired how level-headed you were no matter the crisis and the positivity that you had in ensuring that it will be dealt with.

More importantly, Bucky admired how you were genuine around the team. He was not sure when Tony recruited you after saving your life from Hydra. He was amazed at your bravery to stand up to injustice even if you did not any hero like powers. He was not sure how you would be like with the team, he preferred to keep you at a distance as with any strangers.

However, you started gaining fast friendships with everyone with your easy-going personality soon enough. He could see similarities between you and Ro in how you are friendly towards others but he could also see the difference. While Ro had an infectious and bubbly energy, you on the other hand draw people in with your cool and calming presence.

Bucky always wanted to get closer to you. He just didn’t know how to. Whenever he sees you, it was as if everything in him stilled and he could not express how he really felt. He only resorted to making sure he acknowledges your presence when in the same room, this was his way of him respecting you.

Bucky was not sure how else to approach you without making a fool of himself. He envied how the rest of the team were easy to warm up to you and he wished he could do the same too. But Bucky knew he didn’t deserve someone like you. Perhaps with his past, he does not deserve to be loved by someone at all.

Agent Radnor continued to have small talk with the rest of the team while Bucky looked on silently. You were looking on the exchange with interest without saying anything. You provided smiles of reassurance to Teddy as he spoke animatedly of his admiration for the Avengers.

Your eyes suddenly met his. Blood started rushing to his cheeks as he tried his best to maintain eye contact with you. This was the most imitate way that he could have with you without actually having to talk to you. God knows what nonsense would come out of his mouth if he actually tried to have a full-length conversation with you. How you render him speechless was beyond him.

Bucky could sense that you were getting nervous, your started blinking and your eyes were fleeting. Was it too much? Did he overdo it? Bucky saw you tucking a hair behind your ear before sending him a small smile his way.

While subtle, your smile made his breath hitched. Bucky then remembered to return the same gesture and the corner of his lips went up when he saw you trying to hold back a full smile while looking on the ground.

He wished he could have seen your full smile but he was sure you did not want to attract attention from the rest. What Bucky didn’t realise was that three devious women were observing this subtle exchange between you and him. The three women let out silent gasps as their theory was confirmed.

They always thought that they were imagining it because Bucky Barnes was always trying to mask his emotions around you while you tried your hardest to do the same. Wanda had her theory first before Natasha caught on immediately. Ro was the last but boy oh boy, when she knew, she was the most excited to bring this pairing to life.

Ro glanced over to Wanda and gave her the signal by rubbing the bridge of her nose. With a wave of her hands, Wanda caused one of the nearby pipes to burst and hot air started gushing, creating a high-pitched scream.

The sound took everyone off guard and Bucky went ahead to take you into his arms when he first heard the loud burst. You immediately returned the gesture and allowed yourself to stay in the protection of his arms.

When the realization of what happened dawned upon everyone, everyone let go of their ears to turn and check on each other.

Teddy was huddled and squatting down on the floor while most of the team squirmed slightly at the outburst, given that they were more used to loud sudden noises during field operations.

You opened your eyes and your heart started to race wildly as you found yourself in close proximity of Bucky. The previous time you were so close was during the first time when you two met and he saved your life.

“You alright, doll?” Did he just called you doll? You were hearing correctly right? Bucky chided himself as he realised what he had said. Who was he to call you doll? You may not even like the name!

“I’m alright, Bucky.” Bucky’s hands were still around your shoulders.

“Thank you.” You continued and it seemed like Bucky was suddenly snapped out of a trance. He let go of you immediately and you tried to adjust yourself, looking at the ground as you couldn’t meet his eyes.

Your exchange was not missed by Teddy who got back on his feet.

“Oops, better call maintenance.” Ro suddenly chimed in. Oops? Bucky’s brows frowned as he found Ro’s words to be weird in this situation. He looked to see Ro exchanging glances with Wanda but could not put together what was going on.

What were those girls up to?

———————————————————————

“Well, I hope you will give us a good assessment. We really are just folks trying our best to help the world.” Steve sealed the deal as he tried ending Teddy’s experience on a good note.

“Of course, Captain. I am well aware.” Teddy gave a salute to Steve to which Steve returned awkwardly with matching enthusiasm. Teddy gave the rest an acknowledging nod and you gestured for him to leave. You suggested for him to return to a private space for you to wrap up the day.

As Teddy walked up the stairs, you quickly turned back to the rest of the team and gave Steve a thumbs up. The team gave silent holler and cheers as a sign of support and you gave a reassuring expression in response. They knew you had it in the bag.

You led Teddy to one of the small meeting rooms on the office level and discussed over how the assessment will conclude. Teddy had noted down his remarks in a government issued smart tablet of his own and he informed you that he would have to come up with a more comprehensive report for submission.

You understood and thanked him for his time. As you walked Teddy out to the lobby, you continued to make small talk and caught up on what you missed in each other’s lives for the past six years.

“Well, this has been fun.” Teddy turned to face you.

“Indeed, not trying to influence you using the friend card but I really hope you can give us a fair chance on this assessment. The Avengers may look glamourous with their hero-act but there’s a lot of work that goes on behind the scene. It’s really a lot of work and sacrifice on their part, putting their lives at risk so that they can make sure those who are not able to defend themselves are given the chance to live.” You tried to conclude the assessment on a positive and sincere note.

“Spoken like a true PR representative.” Teddy spoke as he chuckled.

“No. I’m speaking as someone who really truly witnessed it first-hand.” You hoped that Teddy could hear the sincerity in your voice and know that you were speaking from your heart. Teddy was not able to find the words to respond so he just nodded in understanding.

“Well, you will hear from us in a week.”

“I look forward to it.” You gave your most heartfelt smile. You initiated to say goodbye to Teddy first, wishing him the best in his work. He returned the same gesture and he started walking off.

As you saw him leaving out the door, you turned back to head to your office after a long day. Your name was suddenly called and you could see Teddy re-entering the building again to walk up to you.

“What is it, Teddy?” You were curious to know why Teddy had returned barely after he left. Looking over, you could see Teddy nervously rubbing his hands together and cracking his knuckles. You knew this was his tell sign of nervousness back in college. Guess he still had the same habit.

“Hey, Teddy. What’s wrong?” You tried to reassure him, hoping to calm his nerves with a supporting tone of voice.

“I was- I wanted-” You kept quiet to indicate for him to continue his sentence. Teddy looked at you straight in the eyes before he spoke.

“Y/N, I was hoping after this is over, we could have dinner together. To catch up again. Would that be alright?”

“Oh Teddy…. I’m not too sure, would that be alright-” You were starting to panic. Was he suggesting this so that…

“This is not some sort of exchange in any way and it would not affect the results of the assessment.” Heaving a sigh of relief, you looked up to meet Teddy’s eyes. It was déjà vu all over again, this was exactly how he looked like when he confessed to you back in college.

“I’m not too sure Teddy-”

“Please. Would you like to give me one more chance? To prove that maybe it can work out between us. I really really like you, Y/N. I still can’t forget about you after all these years….” You wished so hard to not be in this position again.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to agree to this, knowing that you maybe had feelings for someone else. Even if it was impossible between you and said someone.

But you couldn’t lead Teddy on when you know your heart isn’t fully in on this.

“I would let you know again. Maybe once this is over?” You tried to give a neutral answer, one that didn’t give him too much hope but also not a crushing answer. Well, it seemed to please Teddy as he had a wide grin on his face when he heard your answer.

“Alright, sure. Yeah. Should I get your number?” He suggested with his grin still full-on.

“Well, I have yours. Stark Technology and all-” You pointed to your tablet and he just nodded in understanding.

“Great, well I hope to hear from you soon. With good news.” Now it was your turn to nod and Teddy took it upon himself to bid you goodbye with a hug. You returned it and then send him off.

Releasing a big sigh out of your body, you were glad that the day was really over.

It was soon evening and it was time for you to end work. You were packing up your stuff when Friday informed you that you were wanted in the Avengers’ private quarters.

Wondering what it could be about, you swiftly made your way there. You were then greeted with the sight of Wanda and Bucky making dinner while everyone was waiting at the table.

“Y/N!” You first hear Ro’s voice before you even entered the room. The rest followed in their greetings. The smell of food immediately drew you to heading over to where the chefs were.

“Food smells so good.” Taking a deep inhale, the smell of home cook food was starting to make you growl with hunger.

“Perfect, cause it’s for you.” Natasha remarked as she was helping to set the table.

“For me?” You asked excitedly as you placed your things down and went ahead to stand beside Wanda as she was stirring something in a pot.

“Tony had to go home to take care of Morgan but he told us what you did for us today.” Natasha continued saying.

“It was nothing. Just part of my job.” You tried waving it off casually as Wanda offered you a taste test of the soup she made. You gave her a look like you were in love as the soup tasted so so good.

“Bucky is making your favourite. Mac and cheese.” You could die on the spot as mac and cheese was your ultimate comfort food. You peeked out behind Wanda’s silhouette to look at Bucky earnestly topping different layers of cheese on the macaroni.

You bit your lip, debating privately on which sight was more delicious? Stop it, Y/N. You chided yourself. This was highly inappropriate. Bucky looked up from his cooking to meet your gaze and you decided to give him an appreciative smile. “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you.

“It’s nothing.” His voice was low and muffled and sexy, oh my god, you needed to control yourself. Bucky’s entire being was doing things to your insides.

Soon, dinner was ready to be served and everyone gathered around the communal table. Everyone started digging in and fell into conversation immediately. As everyone was having second rounds, Natasha who was sitting across you spoke up.

“So how do you think the assessment went?” Natasha asked you with a curious gleam in her eye, as if she was expecting something.

“It was good, I think we can expect good results. Teddy really seemed impressed by what we have here.” Your friends nodded as they listened to your answer.

“Or more specifically, he’s impressed by what we have here.” Ro looked at you with an all-knowing grin.

“Ro! Teddy and I are old friends but college besides that would have been entirely inappropriate. He’s here to do his job.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone mixed work and pleasure.” Sam sent you a smug look as he wriggled his eyebrows. You scoffed at what he was insinuating and shook your head while reaching out for a glass of water.

“So?” Natasha drawled out the word as she asked. You made a frowning-confused face and tilted your head to signal for her to continue. “That’s it?”

You knew exactly where she was steering to in the conversation and you could back out of it, but you knew she will stop at nothing to get answers out of someone. Placing down your cup, you let out an exhale as you held onto your temple as if you had a headache.

“Teddy asked me out.” You weren’t surprised when your friends let out gasps at your revelation. Well more so on the girls and perhaps Sam. Vision, Steve and Bucky had neutral expressions worn on their faces.

“Please, are you really surprise?” Your eyes averted to the girls who seemed more excited at what you had just revealed.

“I’m surprise he got the balls even. He might have gained some respect from me.” Natasha coolly remarked as she took another bite of her food. Such savagery….

“Hey, Teddy is not so bad!” You protested.

“You gained a soft spot for him?” Natasha calmly quipped back.

“Come on, I’ve been friends with him throughout college. He is odd at times but he’s harmless.”

“Like a Teddy bear?” Sam chimed in. His words gained many laughter and he even tried giving high-fives to show off his wit.

“I’m not going to talk to you people if you’re going on like this!” You threatened to back out of the room. Pulling your chair out, you started to clean your own dish and you could hear the rest of the group continued on their chatter. You could hear Steve reprimanding the rest like a disappointed parent at his kids’ behaviour.

Bless Steve.

As you returned to the table, Natasha spoke up again. “So are you going to say yes to the date?” You knew everyone could sense your hesitation and your eyes went to Bucky who had a passive expression on his face. Oh god….

“I don’t know, Nat.”

“What do you mean know?” Ro continued. “He’s not expecting you to go on a date to get a better assessment, is he? If not, I WILL-” Ro went on to mimic a punching gesture with both hands and Steve had to calm her by pressing down on both her hands.

“Yo Y/N. That won’t be cool, I’mma also-” Sam went on to make his own gesture of beating Teddy to a pulp. Steve once shook his head at the immaturity of his friends but he held a serious look as he turned to you. He was indeed worried if it was really the case.

“No-no, Teddy wouldn’t. He said it’s not like that. He just wants to reconnect.” You tried to calm your two rather rash (but loyal) friends.

“Do you want to?” This time Wanda was the one who spoke up. Taking a moment to seriously think about it, you figured what was the harm on going on one date with Teddy? Would it really be that bad? If you don’t feel the same way, you could always settle it there and then.

Why were you denying yourself at a chance at love again? You figured it you could start dating again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I should try, should I? It’s been awhile….”

“Listen to your heart, sweetie.” Wanda reached out to hold your hand dearly. You smile gratefully at her support.

“I will think about it, anyways I told him I will give him an answer once this is over. So I still have time.” You said to reassure your friends. You tried redirecting the conversation away from this topic and continued to spend a little more time with your friends.

Bucky Barnes tried his hardest all evening to not falter. Hearing that agent had asked you out stirred up some emotions within him. He realised you were not going to be available forever. An amazing woman like you will catch the eyes of other and eventually they will make a move to ask you out.

Bucky caught Steve glancing over at him. Even without talking, he knew what his friend was trying to tell him. Go for her before you lose your chance, punk! Steve while terrible with dealing with women except for his own girlfriend was not stupid. He was still able to read the room and more importantly, his childhood friend.

Steve always had his suspicions. He noticed how Bucky’s eyes fleet to you immediately when you entered the room and how they lingered too long for it to be a normal behaviour. Bucky was eager to greet for you even if it didn’t look like it. Bucky while accustomed to the team, was still reserved with strangers.

Steve could see that Bucky was always conscious of how he acted around you. You might not have noticed but Bucky always tried to look out for you in his own subtle way. Perhaps, it was not easy for his best friend who sometimes remained in the dark shadows of his thoughts, believing that he did not deserve to be happy with someone because of his past.

Steve knew Bucky wants to be loved by someone special and that he deserved to be loved. He just wants this punk to not sit around and wait any longer.

You decided to call it a night and wanted to return home. The girls were whining for you to stay and asked why you could not stay at the compound for good. There were plenty of rooms in the private quarters for you to call your own.

You refused, saying that you deserved your own quiet space away from dealing with this chaotic energy (referring to the team). Ro protested at your words but you just laughed it off and bid farewell to everyone.

Steve looked over to Bucky and with the power of eye contact and practically 90 over years of friendship, signalled non-verbally to Bucky that he should take action. Wanda’s voice popped up and stated that you had forgotten your car keys on the counter.

Raising his hand up, Steve indicated for Wanda to pass it over to him. Wanda gave him a smirk before using her powers to push the keys onto Bucky. Steve gave an approving nod at what she did and both people turned to Bucky to give him a ‘what are you waiting for?’ look.

Clutching the car keys in his hands, Bucky got out of his seat and gingerly made his way to the garage. He took in deep breaths as he quickened his steps in hopes of catching up to you.

Luckily, you were not far along and heading for the elevator. He called for your name and you were surprised to see him. Bucky took the last few steps to face you and he look down on the ground for a moment to adjust himself.

“You forgot your keys.” He started off nervously as he stretched out his hands to pass it to you. Your mouth made an ‘o’ shape as you realised why he even came up to you in the first place. You let out a nervous laugh and took it from him, not forgetting to thank him as well.

“It’s nothing.” Bucky replied. Silence followed with awkward tension.

“I gotta go, can’t wait to be back in bed.” You tried to break the silence. There was another pregnant pause and you chided yourself for even trying. This was going nowhere.

“Yes, you had a long day.” Bucky tried coming up with another response. No use forcing it, this was even more awkward than the time Teddy confessed to you. You heart sank in disappointment. Should you even try? Were you willing to give it up before giving it a try with Bucky?

Bucky’s movement snapped you out of your inner thoughts as he began to make his way back. He gave you a once over and nodded to bid you goodbye once more.

The words were at the tip of your tongue. You wondered if you should-

“Hey Bucky.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks and immediately turned his body back to face you. What could you possibly call him for? He made his way back to you and stood face to face to you. His eyes bore into yours and you had to take a gulp before gathering courage to speak.

“Should I go?” Your question caused Bucky to be all confused and you then realised you weren’t clear enough.

“Should I go on the date with Teddy?” While your question was indirect, but you were hoping he got the drift. If he liked you any one bit, he would not let you go on the date. If he had any ounce of interest in you, he would stop you right?

Your held strong eye contact with him, trying to gauge his feelings through non-verbal cues as you figured he was trying to come up with an answer. Seconds felt like hours, he did not give you an answer.

You let out a low chuckle. What an idiot you must have sound like? Why would Bucky care about your date at all?

“I’m sorry. I’m asking stupid questions. Goodnight Bucky.” You made your way to press the elevator and stood right in front of the lift. You hoped Bucky would just leave and save yourself from more humiliation.

As your elevator came to your floor, you were going to take one step in when you felt a hand grabbing onto your wrist. You turned to see Bucky with a slightly panicked look on his face.

“Don’t go.” You scrunched your face into a confused expression as you tried to understand what he meant. His next words caused your heart to skip a beat and the corners of your lips to move up.

“Don’t go on that date with him.”

———————————————————————

Hello my readers! You didn’t think this was the end, did you? Thanks for sticking till this end of this long ass one-shot!

Here’s the bonus epilogue for this story.

You sat in the corner of a café that you looked up online. It was a third-generation family business that had the best pastries in New York. You pick on the loose threads of your yellow gingham midi dress as you waited for your date.

The bell of the café rung to signal the arrival of a new customer. You looked up to see a man in a dark outfit of black and blue. Black jacket over a blue t-shirt and dark washed out jeans. He was wearing a glove on his left hand and an eager smile on his face.

Bucky made his way towards you and first complimented on how beautiful you looked. You returned the same compliment and ravelled in how he easily embarrassed he was at the slightest praise.

The two of you went ahead to the counter, picking out a few sweet treats and two iced coffee. When your order was set on the table, you went ahead to cut a slice of cake and offered to him first.

Bucky eagerly took it and your heart melted at the bashful boyish grin he donned. The two of you fell into an easy conversation and you brought up something on your mind.

“These pastries are so good; we should get some more and you can bring it back for the rest of the team.” Bucky nodded in agreement as he took a sip of his drink.

“You know, Natasha had something to do with bringing Teddy in that day.” Your statement had Bucky’s attention on you. “Yeah, she told me a few days after. Trust her to use her skills to do something like that.” You laughed before continuing explaining.

Apparently, Natasha had a hand in making sure Teddy replaced his colleague for the assessment that very day. When questioned if she had any intention to bring you and Teddy together in the first place, she laughed and shook her head. She always intended for this plan to push you and Bucky towards the right direction.

She believed that if Bucky realised you cannot always be there and will eventually end up with someone else possibly, he will stop being in denial. Bucky commented that Natasha truly was a work of wonder and said that he was eternally grateful for her intervention.

Bucky reached over to hold your hand with this flesh hand but you went ahead to also grab his gloved vibranium hand too. It was your way of telling him that you accepted him whole-heartedly and loved him very much.

Bucky brought both your hands up to place multiple kisses and tell you how he really felt. He knew he shouldn’t hold back his feelings anymore and that you deserved to know how important you are to him.

“Doll, you’re the best thing that happened to me.”

———————————————————————

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel fanfiction #angstfordays

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atmilliways · 3 years

Text

On the 7th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 19 - Fun in the snow!

It was the first night since the rescue, the first night since Toki had been cleared by the Mordland doctors to sleep in his own room again . . . and he couldn’t sleep. He’d spent hours lying in bed, staring up at glow-in-the-dark stars he’d glued to the ceiling back what seemed like a billion years ago and he could. Not. Do it anymore.

Godklok Skwistok stuff. There’s some Swedish in there courtesy of Google Translate... There are footnotes with translations in the Ao3 link I’ll reblog this with in a sec.

The Weather Outside is Frightful

Real stars. He needed to see real stars.

His eyes hurt like something was gently but firmly pressing them deeper into his skull, and he counted exactly two-thousand and twenty steps between his bedroom and the nearest ground floor exit onto the grounds. It didn’t bother him, when he got there, that the flagstones around the doorway were sparkling with frost. Like he’d been trying to tell the doctors for weeks, he could still tell the differences between hot and cold, just didn’t exactly feel it. Hadn’t ever since that red light had hit them and then split the ceiling above their heads (or had it been the other way around?), and he and his brothers had made at least one of his death-stained torturers stop.

So Toki stepped out into the snow and it crunched under his slippers, and he didn’t care. He just followed the blanketed path into a thicket of trees until it dead-ended in a wide circular clearing.

In the center of the clearing, Skwisgaar stood with his back to Mordhaus, one hand outstretched. Toki stopped when he saw him, not necessarily prepared for company . . . but as he watched, flecks of the falling snow circled around the other guitarist’s hand like a glove several sizes too big, then formed a miniature cyclone over the center of his palm, then formed a floating sphere, then dispersed as though nothing out of the ordinary had just been going on.

Curious, Toki walked closer with intentionally loud footsteps and smiled wanly when Skwisgaar whipped around to look at him. “Hei.”

“. . . Hej.” Skwisgaar’s breath formed a ghostly haze in the freezing air. “Didn’ts know you was ups.”

“Couldn’t sleeps.” Toki pulled up even with him on the path, looking up at the sky. When he saw that it was too clouded over for any stars to show, he sighed. “Thoughts a walk might helps. What were you doings just now?”

The blond shrugged. Unlike Toki, he was actually wearing a jacket and boots, and there was a glove on the hand that he hadn’t been holding up before. “Practicings.”

Instinctively Toki reached for the bare hand, looking over the lines of Skwisgaar’s palm and briefly feeling as though he was falling into a roadmap that he didn’t know how to read—but he shook it off and rubbed at the stiff fingers that he could tell were bone-cold. “You’re gonna gets frostbites like this. How long you been outs here? And how long since you started beings able to does . . . that?”

“You knows since when.” Skwisgaar’s hand, despite the stiffness, stretched to clasp around Toki’s. “Natten vi räddade dig.”

Toki nodded, because he understood completely . . . even though, at the same time, he didn’t understand shit and doubted that Skwisgaar did either. All of this god stuff, and being destined to save the world or something, and a Church dedicated entirely to them and now run by their former manager who had literally died and returned from the dead? What was any of that? But he couldn’t deny that it was all real. They’d all been feeling it lately.

“I don’t wants you to freeze,” Toki said softly, looking him straight in the eye, more direct than he’d ever dared to be before. Being kidnapped and held captive for a longass time had burned a lot of the hesitation right out of him.

Skwisgaar quirked one perfect blonde eyebrow. “I clouds say the same to yous, little Toki.”

“Don’t really feels it these days,” Toki replied with a shrug. “But thanks.” He looked down at the hand holding his, then back up again with a small smile. “Shoulds have figures I finds you practicings. Ams all you ever does. Why don’ts you ever takes a break, Skwisgaar?”

A terrible look suddenly overtook the taller man’s face. “I can’ts. I gots to be readies. Othersways, whats if. . . .”

Toki nodded thoughtfully. Whatever was coming was bigger than any show they’d ever played, and those had been nerve-wracking enough. He remembered, from his own attempts at solo performances, the terrible weight of the audience’s expectations . . . but the audience couldn’t float you into the air and crush you like a bug just by looking at you, like that Half-Man thing they’d seen at the so-called final concert in Reykjavík. If they had powers, they damned well better know how to use them, or they could all die.

Leave it to Skwisgaar to take that knowledge and turn it into just as much a tic as constantly practicing on his guitar.

“Buts you can’t wears yours-selve out likes this,” Toki murmured, reaching with his free hand to up Skwisgaar’s cold, porcelain cheek. “You still gotta take cares, that’s what’s the doctors keeps tellin’s me—and I don’t wants nothing bads to happens to yous, so that’s am what I tells you, too. Okays?” He was surprised to feel tears in his eyes; he hadn’t cried since being liberated from that awful basement, not once. The thought of losing the lead guitarist, the push to his pull both onstage and in life, was somehow even worse than that place.

Skwisgaar leaned forward into the touch, until their foreheads bumped. He let out a deep exhale, a fine steam swirling around their faces and mingling with Toki’s breath, which should have been just as visible but, mysteriously, wasn’t. “Okays. Jag lovar.” Then he offered the ghost of a smirk and added, “As longs as you promise yous will practice somes, not like with yous crapskies guitar playing.”

Toki kissed him. It was as easy as laughing—which he did too, the sound muffled by the other man kissing back with just as much feeling. This thing, this push and pull that had been between them for years, was a lot older than any eldritch powers they suddenly had access to, and it was worth protecting.

They had never done this before, and that was a crying fucking shame because it was suddenly as necessary as breathing. Skwisgaar wrapped his arms around Toki and cradled him close. He was so gentle, as though afraid that if he held Toki too hard the younger man would either break or turn out to be just a mirage. But his kiss—

His kiss was desperate in a way that threatened to break Toki’s heart. As though all Skwisgaar wanted was to protect him, but knew, knew that he couldn’t.

Toki remembered all the times Skwisgaar had tried to protect or comfort him. At driving school. Any time his parents visited. In that IKEA the time they’d cried together. Bicentennial quarters. Trying to save his life at the Guitariganza event even after that awful tell-all book he’d written. The tears were definitely rolling down his cheeks now and left trails on his skin that crackled slightly in the cold air.

After several long minutes, the kiss ebbed. Skwisgaar gave a little chuckle of his own—totally sounded like he’d been crying too, breathy and trembling, but it was hard to see for sure in the weak winter moonlight. “You wants to does that for a longs time, eh little Toki?”

This was a chance, Toki realized, to fall back into their usual pattern and laugh the moment off. Skwisgaar was giving him an out . . . if he wanted one. A year ago, maybe he would have taken it.

He remembered Skwisgaar telling him shakily on another snowy night, years ago, I will sees you in Valhallska.

“Yeah,” Toki said softly. “I has. Sorties I’ve beens so . . . you knows.” He sniffled, trying to get his damned nose to stop running. “Ams a really stupids guy whats acts like a brats. I shoulds has practiced like you always tolds me too. I shoulds have been sittings with you at the funeral and never gots kidsnapped in the forst place, but thanks you so fuckings much for comings to rescues me. You savesed my life. I gots to say thanks yous to the other guys too, buts . . . you’s here rights now. And you ams special.” Reaching up, he touched Skwisgaar’s hair, brushing snowflakes from the golden strands. “So specials. . . .”

That’s when they both noticed that snowflakes were hanging in the air around them, too. Hundreds of them hanging suspended in clusters in the shape of—

“A very special saps whats has made the snow falls in shapes of hearts,” Toki giggled.

“I didn’ts,” Skwisgaar mumbled, cheeks reddening, but he still had his arms around Toki so he couldn’t have been too put out.

“You dids, looks at them!” Toki caught one in his palm. “Sees?”

“I . . . heugh.” He looked around and the snow began to drift down again. “Ams the price of masterings a new skill, Toki. Don’t know what else to tells you.”

Toki kissed him again with a faux-thoughtful hum. “How ‘bouts . . . you tells me if you want to goes inside now and does more of this?”

For the first time that night, Skwisgaar grinned. “Ja. Ja, thats I can do’s.”

#metalocalypse #12 days of dethmas #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #skwistok

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toysoldiers-rwby · 3 years

Text

[CS] 6. Conflict

Cutting Strings

Characters: Team APCX, Winter Word Count: 7k

Somethings never change. Even if it’s new to Penny.

Read on Ao3

PREV - NEXT

Error: Enemy Unknown

Neon’s frustrated voice rang around the Gym. “Reese! She closed shop to help you and Nadir study!”

“Yeah but Aro can be really scary!” Reese argued. “We still have like two weeks till Haven officially starts…”

Penny slowly tunned their voices out. Ciel and Penny arrived 30 minutes ago. May was there again and she challenged Ciel to a sparring match. Ciel declined, her shift was about to start but Neon begged her for the hours. Neon’s reasoning that training with a Huntress was more valuable than lien convinced Ciel.

Penny joined their warm-ups to burn some excess energy her upset Aura was generating. It helped a little but it would take a real fight to exhaust her. Then she spent five minutes of watching the Huntress play around with the officer-in-training and an unknown amount of time slumped against the table drawing aimless shapes on the wood as little Billy tried to ram into her finger.

Another discovery Penny had made was that she needed a routine. Previously her days was scheduled to optimize both her father and Ironwood’s time. But now that she was free to explore Atlas- and Mantle as long as Ironwood doesn’t know, she had to make her own schedule. This past week she’d work on Billy, the now fully repaired miniature robotic goat with limited functionality! At night she’d visit Ciel and they’d relax at the Officer’s Gym.

But tonight was a little different. Xanthic had finished her assignment from Ironwood… Then Winter escorted her back to her quarters. Four hours ahead of routine. She didn’t argue or fight, just stared at Winter and Penny…

“Oh!” Penny gasped. Billy had determined her nose as new challenger and rammed into her. She giggled and picked him up, “Alright, Billy. It’s bed time.” She said. Pushing aside the cover on his back she pressed the sleep button. Billy’s charge slowed to a trot and eventually a complete stop. His head shook, metal ears stiff in the air when they should be flopping around. Tinny rubber hooves dug into Penny’s hand so lightly her sensors didn’t recognize it.

Winter didn’t need to isolate Xanthic. They could have worked on this little robot together. She wanted to have it updated to perform simple tricks and vocal commands. Penny was curious to see her Father and Aro’s reaction.

“That’s so cute I think I have cavities,” May muttered. She grunted as Ciel finally got a punch in. “You little!” May practically growled. She feinted a jab then dove in a low tackle. Ciel’s back slammed into the mat as her legs were pulled out from under her. Once taken to the mat, Ciel was quickly put in a lock and forced to tap out.

Ciel lay there, exhausted and breathing hard while May barely broke a sweat and effortlessly jumped to her feet. “Huntresses are insane…”

“We are superheroes!” May said with a large smile. It faltered slightly when Penny couldn’t match that energy. “Something biting at you Penn?” Penny tilted her head and looked around. Her false skin wasn’t sensitive so if something was biting her she didn’t feel or see it. May laughed and shook her head. “What’s on your mind? You’ve been acting sad all evening…” Her voice drifted off, posture completely slacking. She thickly swallowed and that definitely triggered Penny’s interest.

Before Penny could turn around a pale green hair flew past her. Aro stood a few feet from May. She was grinning, ears to excited to stay hidden and fluttering up and down. She had an excited bounce and tiny flaps of her arms-

“Aro!” Penny’s mind nearly shorted. There might have been several warnings about velocity and weight but all that was registering was her friend was finally back. Her processors fired several simulations about how easier the week would have been if Aro was there to smooth conflicts or to infect her with her cheery attitude.

“Hi Penn!” Aro yelled back, grunting as the women tackled her. They didn’t fall to the ground but floated long enough for Aro to get her footing again. Penny was hugged tight. That comforting feeling of pressure back in greater force. Penny giggled burying her face into her future teammate’s shoulder. She wanted to go back to the drinks with Winter and May or even the trails General started her with. She was built for the stress of combat not… whatever she was feeling righ tow. Aro set Penny down and looked at May again. Her grin was bigger, undeterred by May’s indifferent, almost glaring expression. “Hi.”

“Salutations,” May drawled, voice dead and voice of any emotion. She crossed her arms and waited for Aro’s energy to calm a little. It had the opposite effect and she only squeezed Penny tighter. Penny giggled as Faunus ears tickled her fake ones. Apparently they were sensitive and sent a Morse code of sensation confusing her processors. May sighed at the cute display, “I’m still mad at you.”

“I deserve it,” Aro said only a hint of seldom and guilt in her voice. “I know it’s not showing now- I really missed you.”

A blush flashed across May’s face for a second. The Huntress groaned slapping her head. Then held her arms open and Aro jumped into them. Arms wrapped around her neck and face buried into the crook of her shoulder and neck.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Sometimes I deserve it,” Aro said.

Penny giggled from the side. If this was how they resolved their conflicts how did they end up fighting in the first place?

“Ugh. Get a room,” Ciel groaned from the floor. Aro snorted. She separated from from May and threw her head back laughing. It shamelessly echoed around the basement.

It was then she understood why May paused, so surprised. Aro wasn’t dressed in her boiler-suit, wasn’t covered in grease. Sweat, or Dust. Penny knew Aro own a successful weapon and Dust shop. But it was difficult to actually see her as a businesswomen.

Her high class suit rivaled Winter’s casual outfits. Penny’s eyes were particularly drawn to the pin on her tie and collar. Aro’s dull eyes were framed by glasses… May caught her staring and smirked. Penny flustered, a surge of Aura generating too much heat. While she couldn’t blush Penny felt it the hot air rise to her face and she huffed out cloud of steam.

Aro stomped on the floor, a bright glow of purple slowly levitating Ciel up. The student was floundering. Her legs kicked out wildly for footing only to be upside down. Penny wasn’t fond of the sensation either, so she quickly helped Ciel upright. Aro gently turned off the Dust. Ciel looked more disheveled by the gravity Dust than the sparing.

“Never. Again.” The officer-in-training said, as if the order would stick with the anarchist.

“No promises,” Aro sang. She looked at May with a guilty and open expression. “I was waiting for Xanthic’s okay to come back.” May’s quick temper flared again. A fierce scowl and a trembling fist instantly set Penny on alert. She took a deep breath. She’s spent more time with Ciel and May these past few days and trusted that peaceful experience rather than her sensitive protocols. It was a little slow, but May slowly relaxed and nodded at Aro to continue. “A mutual contact told me Xanthic disappeared.”

Penny frowned. That was… true? She pushed her processors trying to analysis the situation from a different perspective. It was difficult, trying to think of false information and incorrect functions. Chances were high only the Ace-Ops and Winter knew about Xanthic’s whereabouts. The hacker was taken by surprised, so she couldn’t call for help. Did she even have anyone that would help her?

May frowned and crossed her arms. Penny didn’t know if she was pleased or alerted, that indifferent mask was on her face again. She liked the smile better.

“Since when were you and Xanthic talking?”

Aro made sure to hold eye contact with May. Her dull eyes were sincere… and not glowing! Her semblance was off! Aro’s entire energy seemed a little muted but much more earnest, “Almost two weeks. Since she found out Ironwood is trying to puppet us.” May closed her eyes, fighting off another outburst. She took a deep breath. Penny added a reminder to ask Aro about her history with Xanthic. Judging from May’s expression it wasn’t good.

“I want to punch you in the face.”

Aro didn’t even flinch at that but Penny did. Was… this common? Is this how friends behaved? “I deserve it, but we need to find Xanthic first.” May visibly blanch and deflate.

“I know her current location,” Penny said. Her voice sounded too seldom but. She was oddly worried about a women that was far too aggressive. Somewhere deep in her programming told Penny it didn’t matter. “She’s under house arrest at the my father’s Facility. Are we helping her escape?” She asked quietly.

“Depends,” May said quickly and harshly, “Does she really need saving?”

“I think so,” Penny said. She hadn’t notice it at first because Xanthic was working but General Ironwood had placed her in near complete isolation. Alone, no socialization, no freedom… “Kidnapping. Isolation. Forced Labor. Forgery.” She listed, flinching at each word. She was sure General Ironwood had a good reason, but was also understanding Xanthic’s precautions. May and Aro didn’t seem surprised at the list but Ciel was deeply skeptical and glared harder at every word.

“Kidnapping. Don’t you mean arrested?” Ciel asked. “She was guilty of hacking Atlas’ system!”

“Then she would be in prison, not a military research facility.” Penny reasoned. They had to return Xanthic’s home to bring necessities Atlas provided in prisons. She still didn’t know if she enjoyed Xanthic’s company but it often lead to Winter assisting her. Seeing her almost made the fights between them worth it. “Ms. Xanthic is crass, aggressive, and enjoys challenging authority.” Ciel stared hard while May and Aro nodded. They both looked like they wanted to add more but refrained from doing so. “She was oddly compliant and docile with Winter today.”

Aro popped her lip, brows raised high. “Isolation… with Win?” She asked slowly. She looked at May with a pleading stare, “You know Xan doesn’t handle both of those things well.”

“If she doesn’t want to be lonely she should try being nice!” May said. Aro snapped her jaw shut. Her semblance must be active again because the usual bright blue glow returned, pupils flaring white. “I like you better with Focus off.”

“And I’d like your support.” Aro snipped back. “You don’t need to help but I’m not letting Ironwood get away with this.”

“Breaks people!” Ciel yelled. "We are not infiltrating a military facility."

Aro smirked arms crossed in a way that strained her suit across her large arms and shoulders. “Infiltrate? You do realize you’re talking to a businesswomen.” She gestured to her suit. This time Penny caught May admiring it, a bit reluctantly. The Huntress huffed, trying to act frustrated rather than flustered. Penny giggled at the bravado.

They took the elevator up to the roof where Aro had parked her airship. Two more Huntresses sat atop of it and one jumped down when they saw the group.

“Salutation!” Penny didn’t instantly recognize the voice so she wasn’t Atlesian Military. The distinctive Faunus ears and excellent record identified her as Fiona Thyme. She grinned running up to Penny and shoving May aside even though she had her arms open for a hug. Her partner Robyn Hill, laughed so hard she almost fell off the airship on her descent. Fiona grabbed Penny’s hand and shook it, “I’m Fiona, it’s a pleasure to finally met you!” She said. “Aro and May are constantly talking about you.”

Penny gave Aro a curious glance and she simply raised a brow. Her eyes flickered before she talked in a voice that was too smooth and perfect, “She’s lying.” The liar said. Penny and Fiona glanced at each other a knowing look and shared a giggle.

“It is a pleasure to meet you too!” Penny grinned, “I have to admit it’s nice not having to look up so much…” Ciel and Fiona was around her height. Aro was surprisingly short when she stood next to May and Winter. It was her horns brought them closer to height.

“Right?! These assholes should treat us to a good chiropractor.” Fiona covered her mouth as if she was whispering, but Penny was sure she purposely increased her volume.

“You brat!” May grumbled picking Fiona up and throwing tiny Huntress over her shoulder. Fiona only laughed and playfully tried to break free. Ciel looked hesitant but followed Penny into their future teammates’ transport. The inside looked like a luxury cruiser, two sofas pointed at an entertainment system with a hard-light table disappearing from the center. The rather happy group of huntresses already took a sofa catching up on this week’s events.

“Someone actually tried to mug us in Vacuo,” Robyn said. “Aro accidentally drew blood and then fainted on the spot!”

May rolled her eyes, “Dressed like that and in this airship? I’m surprised you didn’t get shot down.”

“With what artillery?” Fiona asked.

Ciel made her way to the front. She didn’t take a seat on the sofa but hovered at the cockpit door. Penny decided occupy the co-pilot seat next to her future-teammate.

“You two are idiots.” Ciel said with a sigh. “You’re actually going to talk him into releasing a dangerous criminal?”

“You sure you trust an idiot to fly an airship?” Aro said with a large grin up at her. Ciel frowned. She didn’t look nervous and didn’t look at the door. After a few seconds Aro finally lifted her personalized transport off the building.

“Aro has one of the best records for nonmilitary pilots!” Penny informed. That seemed to eased Ciel but she didn’t sit down.

The ride was short and easy, so Aro entertained herself by giving Ciel a brief overview of the console. It didn’t match any specs that Penny knew so she suspected she personally built it. As they finally reached the floating city Atlas Command tried directed Aro to dock at the Academy. The ships audio-to-text was instantanious and the hard-light words hovered above the dash. Aro weighed her options. But with one looked at Penny, she confidentely veered off course.

“Actually I think Dr. Pietro is holding something important for me.” Aro said. May loudly gagged, then grunting in pain as two loud smacks stopped her.

“M-Ms. Glade!” The military personal stuttered.

“Very confidential,” Aro said drawling out the words with a grin. “I was his protégée, I still help every now and again. You know how it goes.”

“General Ironwood-” Aro turned off the speech-to-text. Penny remembered where the volume was and turned that down for everyone else.

Before Ciel could scold her, they finally sored above the smog and factory smoke. For a second, Ciel looked amazed. Then it was replaced by scowl. Penny spent enough time with her to recognize that analytical look. Her eyes darting from bright tower to hard-light banners and even the robots that waited patiently for their owners. Penny flinched.

“Wow.” Ciel scoffed. “So much for hard-light Dust being rare. One percent of the excess funds here could help the hospitals and miners- Ugh.”

“Welcome to the Atlas sucks club!” May cheered from the back. Penny frowned. Was it really that bad? “Hard to see the bullshit they are pulling from below.”

Aro landed the ship on the roof and Penny’s Scroll granted the group access. Ciel tried to talk her way into staying on the ship but Aro and Penny convinced her not to. She would be alone, technically trespassing on Military property.

“It’s best if you stay with me,” Aro said. Her tone was a little different. Leveled and practiced in a way that reminded Penny of Winter. Then her sensors picked up on something, or rather the lack of noise. Penny glanced at the back to see the Huntresses looking uneasy. Aro only smiled and laughed, “I’m a pretty good distraction.”

“Hm. For the record I was kidnapped,” Ciel muttered.

“Records Xanthic is able and willing to alter,” Penny reminded.

When the elevator opened to the main floor, General Ironwood and a small entourage was awaiting for them. Specialist Winter stood, poised like a soldier but lacking any real conviction. She nearly broke rank when she saw Penny. Her eyes locked on to hers far too long and Penny could only smile back. She hoped it was comforting because it felt sad. Almost guilty. Vine Zeki and Marrow Armin stood behind her. Vine was the only real image of an Atlesian soldier, Marrow looked conflicted, tail almost between his legs.

These operatives were ideal for crowd control.

If a fight broke out, the battle would hinge on Marrow’s Stay and Ciel’s Clockwork, perhaps even Aro’s Dust abilities. He was a newest Ace-Ops member so statistics was still off, in theory he could Stay a group. But one of this size as well as three Huntresses would be a challenge. Penny would be able to fight off Winter’s summons- Penny shook her head. She should not be strategizing against the military.

“Welcome back, Ms. Glade.” General Ironwood greeted. His tone was as cold and welcoming as the steel they stood on.

Aro on the other hand kept her playful persona, “You didn’t even bring my favorites,” Aro said with a small pout. Once again her voice was too perfect, too smooth and at ease. Her eyes seemed to shine brighter, “Where’s Hare and Oak?”

“Standby with Clover,” Ironwood said. He stood aside and waved his arms. A silent permission for the group to enter and an order to follow. Robyn and her team scowled but followed Aro’s lead. Flanking her, as if they were guards.

Winter broke rank, strides placing her next to Penny. She didn’t speak, instead giving Penny a concerned look then a questioning glance at Ciel, who didn’t look very pleased. The possibility of a fight breaking out was… low. Ideally. The human variable was very unpreditable, and Aro seemed to be the largest unknown factor. Perhaps kidnapped wasn’t too extreme.

“Congrats Marrow!” Aro said, “I had a bet with Joanna and May about when you’d get accepted into the Ace-Ops. I won.”

“Thanks! I-” Marrow was cut off by a pointed look from Vine. “I’m not allowed to be polite apparently.” He said with a pout. His tail curled down and arms folded across his chest.

"I don’t quite understand it either. I feel like the silence is meant to rile us up." Aro said. Despite her smooth and easy going voice the soldiers seemed to flinch. General Ironwood increased his pace and no one stopped any further conversation.

Marrow excitedly told her about a search and destroy mission of a Geist that plagued a few SDC transports. It was particularly fond of taking over machinery. Aro talked about the crime rates in Vale, how Dust theft is increasing the demands for Dust. During her week long trip she made several contracts for the Abyssal Dust Company that would give her a small lead over the SDC.

“Sounds like Vale needs help,” Marrow frowned.

“They do,” Robyn agreed, “I still have a few connections from my cop days. We helped a few investigations and the scale of this thing could mean a huge gang war.”

“But Vale isn’t known for those types of conflicts,” May muttered.

“I still think they’re shipping it to Vacuo.” Fiona added.

“Their history of violence and such little resources would mean they’d need outside help.” Vine agreed.

Aro was right. The small talk did easy tensions a little. They were all Huntresses and Huntsmen after all, their duty was to protect the people, and they easily talked about Vale’s situation for the duration of the walk. But Ironwood only grew tense. His posture grew stiff, walking more like a march.

Then Penny notice Winter fell back, nudging May’s arm and giving a questioning look. May’s hands and fingers moved, face quickly changing from expression to expression. Penny realized she was signing when Winter did a gesture and May repeated the motions a little slower. Whatever information they traded set Winter on edge. She widen her strides and walked even closer to Penny.

She tried to trust Aro. Her future teammate was confident and unwavering but as she watched everyone’s behavior Penny was starting to realize something. She was helpless and useless. She couldn’t contribute anything to Xanthic’s freedom. She was created to help and protect, but this situation wasn’t a physical fight.

It was beyond her control…

They finally arrived at Ironwood’s office. Xanthic was seated there, surrounded by the other Ace-Ops members. The gravity Dust bindings were on, holding her wrist together. Physically, she was well. Mentally, Ashley Xanthic nearly catatonic. The way her eyes… Penny’s Aura clenched around her systems. There was nearly no power running through Xanthic’s circuits. It was dull almost-

“You look dead,” Ciel blurted out, surprise and a near overwhelming tone in her voice.

Immediately those cybernetic eyes flickered on. It was long enough for Xanthic to take in the rebellious group but it dimmed far too quickly for Penny’s comfort. She didn’t stand when Harriet tried prompting her too. “I’m here to haunt you. Boo.” Xanthic said. Again it didn’t hold any bite and Penny’s processors barely register it as Xan’s voice. She wasn’t happy that so many people came to support he. Just tired.

Ciel sneered, “A failure even in death, I see.” That finally got a reaction even if it was a lazy middle finger. The bit of normality helped Penny calm down.

“Clover,” Ironwood commanded.

“We’ll be close,” Clover said with a nod. He lead Harriet and Elm out of the room. Elm gave May a concerned look. Harriet and Fiona lightly glared at each other until Robyn stepped between them. She completely ignored the Spec-Ops and kept her eyes on Ironwood. Vine and Marrow stepped forward, protecting their General’s flanks. Penny was grateful Winter stood by her side. Even it was to protect her from Aro or Robyn’s team.

The General’s eyes landed on Ciel though he didn’t speak until the doors hissed shut. The officer-in-training tried not to fidget, but from her position Penny could see her tightly squeeze her hands hidden behind her back.

“I’m surprised Ms. Soleil is with you.”

“I found them bonding at the old Gym! Ciel’s credentials are some of the best in the Police Academy. Almost as good as Robyn’s,” Aro said with a smile that wasn’t perfect. It was a little smug and that made it completely vicious. Penny looked around the room, reading people’s reactions. Everyone stared hard at her, tense.

Penny flinched a little. Aro wasn’t a threat, she was a friend trying to help their future teammate. She wanted to say it but the tension in the room caused her processors to stutter and falter.

"I bet with training Ciel’s Clockwork would be more versatile that Stay." Marrow seemed to frown at that. “I also noticed Penny completely destroyed the highest score.” That another response from Xanthic. Her cybernetic eyes glowed softly. Aro signed at her and finally roused the hacker onto her feet. It seemed like she was trying to wake up.

“… She did now?” General Ironwood asked with a raised brow. His eyes finally lifted off Ciel and to Penny. She tried not to flinch under it. She really did but couldn’t find the courage.He was General Ironwood, he helped her father create her and- Aro’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, body angle between them like a shield.

“Without breaking a sweat, according to May. Which is… surprising,” Aro tapped her chin. She spared a glance at Penny then down to her hand. She had grasped Aro’s shirt out of reflex. Penny let go and took a step closer to Winter. She was relieved to feel a faint pressure push into her.

Aro pulled out her Scroll- a new model. It was gold and green, compact with only one handle. It didn’t open, with a press of the button it projected schematics… of Floating Array. Penny’s eyes widen. That was hidden off the network, the data was only in this facility.

An instances was immediately brought forward in Penny’s head. Caught red handed by General Ironwood himself.

Xanthic didn’t just hack Atlas’ Network but she physically snuck in here! That finally seemed to bring the hacker back to her senses. The smirked was a little soft, her features hard lacking the sharp edge but it was slowly coming back. Your system locked me out before I could get any real information, Xanthic once said.

Floating Array and Penny herself wasn’t on the record, according to Atlas documentation, they didn’t exist.

The mechanic took a deep breath. Slowly that façade faded with the bright blue of Aro’s eyes. A nearly chilling deep sea green eyes challenged Ironwood.

“I don’t remember giving the military access to my design or permission to turn it into a lethal weapon.” Aurora Glade, lied with her semblance off.

Penny felt a heavy weight in her chest. In order to keep the lie Ironwood carefully constructed around her, he couldn’t risk denying that claim. Aro effectively stolen Atlesian Military Weapon in front his most loyal subordinates.

When she spoke this time her voice was completely flat, mimic’s Ironwood’s tone when he gave out orders. “I’ve had some companies ask me if it was a personal weapon or commercial one…” She was threatening to publish the schematics.

“What do you want Glade.” The only crack in his composure was his tone of voice. It was so tense it was nearly dead.

Aro’s semblance immediately turned on, “Xanthic’s punishment adjusted to accommodate for her autophobia. Of course this wouldn’t affect our previous arrangement.” Except it does. If Ironwood doesn’t give Penny complete freedom to choose her final teammate, the schematics would be released to the public. While the only people capable of using it were in the room, it could easily be reverse enginered by other Kingdoms. And as Ciel one said, humans could be horrible to each other.

“Of course.” Ironwood said. He pulled out his Scroll transferring permissions to Winter. Immediately the cuffs turned off. “I’ll entrust Schnee to work out the accommodations with you.”

Aro grin was more of a show of teeth, combined with her golden horns and glowing eyes… For once Penny was skeptical of her first friend. Marrow tried to hide a small smile, his tail wagging so slightly as they left. No one talked as Winter escorted the rebellious group back to the roof. Penny didn’t quite understand the atmosphere. She thought she’d be more conflicted about this but she found herself scared for the others.

Wasn’t this a victory? Somehow her civilian teammates twisted Ironwood’s lies and manipulations against him. It felt… Penny fidgeted and she took a deep breath of the cold Solitas air to cool her down. Her processors finally placed the emotion, finally realized how bad the consequences could be. She was scared for her team. Her two civilian teammates just blackmailed the General into a corner in front of his subordinates. Not to mention Aro claimed to have created Floating Array.

The repercussions would be dire.

Whatever was hanging over them didn’t break until Xanthic stepped out onto the roof. She glared at everyone, “Whoo. Go team APCX…” It was said in such a bored and thick drawl it seemed to have shorted Focus. Aro’s eyes suddenly dulled and she snorted and laughed while Ciel manage to hide it a little with a cough. Satisfied with seeing some life back into everyone, Xanthic ran out arms stretched above her head, “Sun! Praise the sun! I want some Menagerie and Minstrel BBQ! A drink! Fucking pretzel dip!” Whatever tension that remained eased off as Xanthic vented out into the air.

Slowly they filtered out of the cramp elevator. Penny let everyone walk past her, watching the crowd and life the empty halls of the facility never had. Robyn and Fiona was chatting and giggling, mocking the Ace-Ops reactions. Winter and May seemed a little conflicted but their shoulders weren’t as pinched. The Specialist was rubbing her temples. All the noise of life could be overwhelming at times but… it was wondrous.

“That would be more effective if you relaxed your jaw,” Penny whispered to her. May sneered and coughed trying to hid it. Winter half glared at Penny but she saw those lips part ever so slightly.

“Was fucking pretzel dip sex or food?” Aro whispered to them. May growled shoving Aro forward and Winter only groaned. Thanks to the Schnee’s famously pale complexion, Penny did see a small blush across her cheeks.

They finally caught up to the others who was just watching Xanthic prowl around yelling.

“We should calm her down,” Robyn whispered to Ciel.

“I was kidnapped and treated as a bargaining chip. I’m not participating in anything.” Ciel objected. Despite the harsh words her attitude was a little light and entertained, like she was enjoying Xanthic’s frustration.

“You have no idea how crazy I was going locked up doing the same thing every-day!” Xanthic screamed into the air. Aro hummed, playing along as she opened the transport with her Scroll. “Fucking Ironwood. Argh! I want to rip that Bluetooth off his fucking face and watch his body go limp!” She stormed the transport. Team APCX followed their raging teammate. Penny frowned, finding her co-pilot seat stolen by the hacker. At least she stopped yelling and was glaring past the window. When those sharp cybernetic eyes flicked to Penny she yelped and jumped a little. “I want to beat Penny’s score.”

“Of course you do!” Fiona yelled from the back. The Huntresses had settled onto the sofa. Penny was a little surprised to see Winter seated in the middle, Fiona and May at either sides of her. Of course Robyn at Fiona’s side. “What does everyone feel like eating? I’m calling Joanna to pick us up some food and meeting us at the Gym.” Someone said sushi and the other wanted pizza. The Huntresses argued amongst themselves with Winter softly critisisng their choices.

Ciel made a displeased noise, “Please don’t tell me this is going to be a regular thing,” She said. The officer-in-training leaned against Xanthic’s seat, probably because Penny was beside Aro. “Blackmailing the General and everything.”

“Things usually go a lot smoother…I’m having a hard time figuring out where my plan failed,” Aro admitted with some embarrassment.

“Oh. So this is fucking routine. Lovely,” Ciel scowled. Then Penny remembered the little box. She slipped off her backpack and pushed aside several folded blades to get to it.

“Could it be because I didn’t delivery this?” She asked holding the mysterious box out. If she was the reason this happened…

Xanthic took it and wrote out her signature with her finger. Invisible seems split open to reveal a new Scroll similar to Aro’s new one and thick gloves with cybernetic attachments. Penny counted at least four hard-light projectors on the palm side.

“There was too much security to use the Scroll and I would have just assaulted the Ace-Ops if I had my gloves,” Xanthic explained, “So it’s probably a good thing you didn’t.”

“And even if I was here I doubt I’d be able to do much. I prefer subtle manipulations,” Aro said.

“Pretty sure they hate it.” Xanthic’s head nodded to the back. For a moment Penny caught Winter and May’s eyes. Penny finally realized why they were able to communicate without words. It was shared history and understanding. All three of them hated this side of Aro. The pair turned back to Fiona and Robyn. Xanthic noticed but continued talking with Aro in low volumes. “But no… I don’t think we can afford to be so reckless.”

“We showed our biggest trump card,” Aro said with a frustrated sigh. Her hands flexed around the joystick. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “My trip to Vale was to transfer ownership of ADC so Ironwood or Jacques doesn’t target that next. I’d still have connections and favors but resources will be short for a bit.”

“Wait… what are you two talking about?” Ciel asked with a worried edge to her voice.

Aro tilted her head, dull… no, normal sea-green eyes looking at her, “Court games, Squire.” She grinned weakly. Ciel groaned and rolled her eyes but accepted the answer. Penny had a vague understanding of the phrase. The subtle manipulations of people and appearances to influence the masses. “Things should be calm for awhile. And as much as I hate Ironwood, I’m a little excited to do this Vytal Festival thing.” Aro said, her voice picking up and sounding a little lighter, more like Penny’s first impression of the women.

How much of her was a lie through Focus?

The rest of the ride was filed with oddly peaceful chatter. Xanthic’s bite was more like nibble now and Ciel was always ready with a quip back. Or perhaps Penny was just growing acustome to those harsh tones. The closer they got to the Gym the more energy built up, thanks to little Thyme. In the elevator down to the basement the sheep and goat Faunus was posturing at each other.

“Oh come on! Xanthic is a legendary shot,” Fiona argued. Xanthic smirked, pride swelling obviously.

Aro scoffed and rolled her eyes, “And Floating Array and is 100% accurate! Besides Penny’s eyes are the newest model.”

“Bitch,” Xanthic scowled, "My shots are all skill."

“Five thousand lien that Penny will smoke your ass,” Aro crossed her arms. Ciel sputtered, eyes wide and head whipping back the businesswomen.

“Just 5? And upgrades.” Xanthic pointed to her eyes.

“Seven and a gadget IOU,” Aro agreed.

“We’re gonna be rich!” Fiona cheered running out of the elevator as soon as it opened. She was at the far end of the basement already setting up the shooting range. Joanna had two boxes and two booths shoved together in the back looking a little confused. As soon as she saw Xanthic, a grin broke out on her face.

“Wow! Just like our academy days!”

“Don’t remind me,” May and Winter groaned.

Penny wanted to watch them interact a little more but her teammates Ciel and Aro dragged her off. Specifically Aro with her odd fluctuating gravity presence. Ciel took a deep breath and put her hands on Penny’s shoulders. “Don’t lose. This is two months of pay.”

“Uh…” Penny smiled a little nervously. Two months sounded like a lot of time and effort but she did not fully comprehend the value of lien. Or human effort. But she was combat ready! Her systems was made for fighting, “It is nearly impossible for me to lose!”

“I don’t know…” Aro muttered rubbing her chin. Focus was still off so the chances of the mechanic lying was nearly a 0.2 percent. “Xanthic is a really good shot. I’m sure it’s because of the upgrades because her a semblance was tied to her original eyes.”

Penny only smiled, trying to reassure her teammates. "Floating Array can split into fourteen individual components."

“Xanthic only has two hands,” Ciel reasoned with a shrug. Aro was starting to look a little worried.

“Will our shooters please take their places!” Robyn yelled.

Aro ruffled Penny’s hair, a familiar gesture that tickled Penny’s ears and had her giggling a little. The seating arrangements were divided amongst Team Xanthic and Team Penny. Winter, May, Aro and Ciel sat on Penny’s side. She smiled brightly at them and May gave a loud cheer. Joanna and Fiona stood at Xanthic’s side, loudy hollering and ignoring the other patrons. Robyn dropped her lien onto the table, next to the boxes and boxes of food and walked to the middle to referee.

“Alright ladies the rules are simple. Highest points at the end of ten minutes is victorious!” She yelled with a flare that was nearly making Penny Aura overload her power unit. Penny bounced with excitement to burn it off a little. “The current pot is half a 32 thousand lien,” Robyn said. Penny frowned and looked at Winter and May. May was grinning and cheering while Winter just shrugged her shoulders. They came from rich families but throwing so much into a game seemed excessive. “The winning team can decide how its split.”

“What?!” Neon and Reese yelled from the back. They quickly dashed over on their skates and threw more lien on the table. “You got this cutie!” Neon cheered jumping.

Robyn covered her mouth trying to hid a grin. Penny giggled as Reese jumped up and down on her hoverboard. “Team Penny! Go! Go!”

Penny unfurled Floating Array from her back. All fourteen blades pointed down range. Xanthic smirked and dusted off her palms. Hard-light projectors sparked at every contact. The cybernetics glowed brighter and brighter. Was it charging or was it for show?

“Do Robyn’s crossbow!” Fiona yelled.

Xanthic sneered and flourished both wrist. The hard-light projectors on her gloves crafted a near exact replica of the arm mounted weapon. Robyn let out an appreciative whistle. Her confident eyes slide over to Penny.

The metal women was starting to worry as even Robyn smirked at her, “Care for a test shot, Blue?” Robyn asked.

Xanthic aimed down range then looked at Penny. She winked as the crossbow fired. The on the spot changes were three rails on the crossbow. Three hard-light arrows split off into different directions, three targets. Like how Aro dodged the Spider Droid without looking, Xanthic’s blind fire were all within the lethal zone. Penny frowned, humming in thought. Aro’s assessment about Xanthic’s eyes must be off. Or maybe Xanthic was using more of her neural augments? The most plausible explanation was both semblance and cybernetic enhancements.

This challenge was definitely harder than anticipated.

“Participants ready!?” Robyn asked.

Penny felt her Aura swell and systems hummed. She took a deep breath, taking in as much cold air before blowing out a slightly visible steam.

“Combat ready!” Penny confirmed.

“Player two ready,” Xanthic smirked.

“You got this Penn!” Aro and May yelled.

“Xan! Xan! Xan!” Joanna and Fiona cheered.

Robyn let the tension built up a little more before yelling, “Begin!”

As soon as Penny started firing she realized her firing rate was not high enough. Floating Array needed time to charge while Xanthic shot once and hit three different targets. She took a deep breath and focused on control. She didn’t need a lot of power, didn’t need to charge up the shots so long. It only need to be detected by the scoring system.

Penny started to stagger her shots as well. One barrel always firing with the others were charging up. The steady stream of fire quickly caught up with the burst Xanthic did. A downside to the gloves was reloading ability. Xanthic had to recreate the entire weapon. Which was why she was only firing with one arm, Penny realized.

When the first crossbow finally ran out of hard-light arrows, it disappeared. With a flick of her wrist military grade, long barreled pistol was in her hand. Penny could see her cybernetic eyes telescoping and shifting from target to target. Underneath the loud cheering she could hear Xanthic’s augments hum loudly.

It was a genuine challenge for both shooters but at the end of 10 minutes…

Xanthic’s rate of fire outpaced Penny by ten points. Team Penny groaned and collapsed to the floor, the students particularly defeated. The idiots that threw in such large amounts of money didn’t seem to upset. Aro was nervously laughing as Ciel chewed her out.

Team Xanthic was jumping around, particularly Fiona. Xanthic rolled her eyes and fist bumped Robyn and Joanna. Then she turned to Penny and held it out a first, “Good shooting, Swords.” Xanthic said.

With a smile.

Penny grinned, fist slamming into Xanthic’s. The women let out a pained, flinching as metal connected Aura-less bone and flesh. “Oh! I’m sorry!”

“I-I’m fine,” Xanthic mumbled despite the tears in her eyes. It took a few tries with a throbbing, possible broken hand but the alias Silver Wat was once again top on the scoreboard with Penny’s name under it.

Error: Enemy Unknown

#Penny Polendina #fic #cutting strings #pre-fall of beacon #Aurora Glade #ashley xanthic #ciel soleil #APCX #qued

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