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kairos-polaris · 3 years

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Eris (Demon's daughter) Chapter 2: Travelling around the world.

Marinette has a mission and she will do everything to succeed.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

@liquid-luck-00

Escaping from the League of Shadows wasn't an easy feat to achieve. The grounds of Nanda Parbat were heavily protected and Marinette had to be extremely careful to not be noticed by other assassins.

After almost an hour of sneaking around, she finally left the compound behind. The first part of her plan is completed.

The second part of her plan was... slightly more complicated. Crossing an ocean was expensive and took some time. She had to perfect her plan.

She had an easy (meaning it took less time) way to get to Gotham. Go to the east and find a ship to the USA. Then a road trip across the states would wait for her.

Unfortunately, this plan made her more vulnerable. The most important part was traveling across the ocean. She wouldn't be able to hide on the ship or protect herself if she were found.

That's why she went to the south. Adani port in Mundra, India, was her first destination.

After leaving Nanda Parbat she found a small village name of which she couldn't be bothered to remember.

Her father made sure she had a flawless education and driving different types of vehicles as part of her skill set. “The only good thing he did for me” she murmured while stealing a car. She was sure nobody would catch her. She knew how to leave no trails. Also, for safety reasons, she would leave that car behind. It wasn’t that good anyway.

Her age made everything harder. Marinette could travel only during the night or on the abandoned roads. She couldn’t let anyone notice her.

She had passed the Indian border before someone asked about her parents for the first time. It happened in a small town in Punjab. Marinette deeply regretted leaving her first car behind. Hiding from the police and military was easier by herself.

“I don’t mean to intrude but you don’t look like you live here. I wanted to ask why you are alone? Where are your parents?” Asked a woman. Her blonde hair nicely framed her pale face. Her emerald green eyes shined with concern for Marinette.

“You don’t live here. You’re a tourist, miss. You can’t be sure I don’t live here.” Marinette answered defensively. The hurt look on the woman’s face made her feel bad for a moment.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you.” The woman rushed to apologize. “You just looked so tired and I want to help you.”

Marinette wasn’t sure what to do. She was exhausted and hungry. She slept only two hours a day to protect herself and her money. And you can’t exactly find restaurants high in the mountains.

What did the woman expect her to say?

“My grandmother lives...I guess I should say lived here. My parents lost contact with her years ago, so we didn’t know about her death. I decided to meet her and find out what happened.” Her imagination never let her down.

The woman was still concerned. She was certainly the type to put her nose where it doesn't belong.

"But are your parents not worried? I have a son your age and I can't imagine him going so far by himself." The woman looked even more worried. "Are you hungry? You know what? It’s obvious you are tired and hungry. There is a cafe over there. We're going to order something there and I will pay for you."

Marinette was suspicious. Who in their right mind would feed an unknown child? But it saved her money and trouble explaining why she is alone. She reluctantly agreed and let the woman lead her to the cafe.

The interior didn’t look half bad. Everything was done in soft, pastel colors. Green plants in pots made the place look fresher. On a closer inspection it became obvious they were fake, but Marinette agreed they looked nice.

The woman led her to a secluded table near a window. At Marinette’s questioning look she giggled: “I found this place with my husband and son. We usually borrow a chair so we can all sit together. Do you want to move?”

“No, I like it here.”

The owner soon came to take their orders. Marinette let the woman choose for her as she didn’t know half of the items on the menu. After the man left they continued talking. Mainly the woman was the one to fill the silence. She told Marinette about her family. She doted on her son who was only a year younger than Marinette.

"And my son really likes playing the piano... I just realized that you don't know my name!" Exclaimed the woman. "My name is Emilie. I’m an actress. My husband, Gabriel, is a fashion designer. My son's name is Adrien. Now, you know a little about me. Can I have your name now?"

"Marinette." She answered softly.

It made the woman's, Emilie's, smile even wider. "It's a very pretty name, Marinette. I like it very much."

Marinette muttered thank you and that really surprised her. She wasn't soft-spoken and didn't trust anyone she met. But Emilie..she made her feel safe and loved in a short period of time. The woman seemed to have enough love to share with an unknown child.

"Why?" Emilie seemed as surprised with the question as Marinette felt. She tilted her head silently, asking to elaborate. "Why are you feeding me? Why are you telling me this? I'm a stranger and you're sharing with me so much information about your family."

Emilie smiled sadly at her and took her hand. "I know who you are, Amira. My husband was the one you failed to kill." At these words Marinette tried to pull away her hands, but Emilie stopped her. "I don't blame you, Marinette. It was obvious it wasn't your choice and someone forced you to do this. You deserve a normal childhood."

"I'm running away from that life." Emilie grinned at her confession. "I know I can be more than the Demon's head daughter. I am more than that."

They sat in silence for some time. Finally they were brought their food. Marinette felt her mouth water at the sight before her. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to eat some of the dishes. Emilie noticed her distress and started eating slowly so the girl could teach herself.

"Come with me." Marinette's confusion must have shown on her face, because Emilie continued: "I want to give you a place to call home. It won't be hard to find a room for you. Adrien would love to have a sister."

Marinette would forever deny crying then. She wouldn't mention flinging into Emilie's hands. And Emilie would smile and think about consoling the crying girl.

Several minutes later Marinette stopped crying and leaned away from Emilie.

"Won't your husband be against it? I tried to kill him, after all." Emilie shook her head at that.

"He is bad with remembering faces and I will introduce you as Marinette, not Amira. Marinette is your real name, right?"

"My name is Marinette Amira al Ghul and I would love to go with you." Emilie sighed and asked why Marinette couldn't go.

"It will make you a target and I don't want you and your family to get hurt. And I have to do something." Marinette suddenly looked nervous. "I promise to find you again after finishing my mission."

"I will wait for you." And that was all Marinette needed then.

The following silence wasn't uncomfortable. Emilie knew that no matter how much she wanted to help Marinette she wasn't the right person to do so. She could only offer a temporary solution, but it wasn't something Marinette needed.

"What is your first language? Because your Hindu is very good." The compliment made Marinette smile.

"It's Arabic. Then I've learned Cantonese and Mandarin. Hindu, Italian, Russian, and French next. I've almost perfected my English." Marinette was surprised with sudden change but didn't mind talking with Emilie a little bit more before continuing her trip.

"You are really smart. I know English, French, Hindu, and Mandarin. My son started learning Mandarin to be closer with me." This prompted Emilie to continue talking about her family. Marinette just silently watched her and wondered whether someone would care about her like that one day."

Only three hours later they left the café. The sun was setting down and colouring the sky.

"It's really pretty, right?" Marinette nodded silently. The pinks, and violets, and reds were beautiful. "Can I hug you one last time? I've got a feeling we won't meet again for a very long time."

Marinette didn't see the reason to refuse her request. At her nod Emilie wrapped her hands around her. It felt...nice.

But eventually they had to part. They both had to finish their travels. And, maybe, one day, they will meet again. "Highly unlikely," thought Marinette bitterly.

Emilie's face would stay with Marinette forever. And, maybe, in the darkest time, she would think about her and find the strength to move forward.

***

The happiness of arriving at Adani port was mixed with sadness of leaving Emilie behind. Logically, she had to move on already. It was almost three days and she still regretted not going with Emilie.

There was a very long road ahead of her and she couldn't afford any distractions from her mission. One must not forget that trained assassins are after one.

Finding a ship to Shuwaikh port would be her first task. The best choice would be a cargo ship. Hiding there would be easier. Plus, she didn't need to eat much due to Pits' effect. She wouldn't need to steal much and would be able to stay alert.

Sneaking into the ship wasn't hard. Marinette scoffed at their awful security. But, it did work in her favour, so she didn't complain.

It took three days to arrive at Shuwaikh port. Fortunately, they arrived late at night, so Marinette had time to sneak away. It certainly didn't mean she couldn't escape in the morning. It was easier to breathe at night.

Nighttime made it easier to steal a car. She would certainly leave it before crossing the border with Iraq. It certainly wouldn't be a piece of pie to cross it. That's why she needed to get weapons. Marinette didn't take any from the League, fearing they were bugged.

Stealing from a weapon store was an interesting experience. But she finally had weapons and felt saver than before. "Why didn't I do this before?" Marinette thought. "My hesitation will have consequences."

Having weapons with her didn't help her anxiety. No matter how good she was at hiding her trails, someone would find her soon. It was unpreventable, but she could try to win some extra time.

Her escape might seem spontaneous, but she had planned for two months before running away. The timing was perfect: the next day she had a mission in France. Gabriel Agreste, the designer she failed to kill, made a deal with her father. He became their spy and in turn reserved a right to ask for the League's help three times.

"They won't notice anything wrong for three-four days. Then, the next two days they will try to contact me. After that they will start looking for me. I'll give them a week to find my trail and a week to predict my next destination."

The last part was particularly dangerous. Her route was too obvious, so she had to go in circles. While losing some time, she ensured her own safety. "As if giving them more time to find me is a good idea," she thought bitterly.

Water was still a bad idea. There was little to no protection or places to hide. The League had enough technology to ambush any ship. It made her next destination obvious: Istanbul, Turkey. Crossing the border with Iraq would be extremely dangerous. She barely avoided being caught the first time. If she didn't have enough skills, she wouldn't get out.

***

Three days later she was in Istanbul. If she had to cash out several favours to get there so fast, nobody needed to know. The beauty of the city made Marinette stay there for several days. Just to be a tourist for a change.

Visiting museums and palaces set her mind at ease. It reminded her about life behind the walls in Nanda Parbat. It gave her another reason to destroy the Light and their associates.

Two days in her stay in Turkey she received a message from Cheshire. They were to contact only if the League was close to finding her. With a hard heart she left the city. "One day I will return here without my father on my tail. One day I will return to stay. One day."

***

The good thing about European Union? No borders. The good thing about Europe? Travelling from one side of it to another was easy and fast. It took Marinette less than two days to arrive in France. Was it reckless? Without a doubt. Was it necessary? Unfortunately.

Jade promised a safe ship. It was waiting for her in Spain and going through France was easier than Italy, because it included crossing the Mediterranean sea.

***

Driving to Spain in her (stolen) car was supposed to be easy. She wasn't supposed to be stuck in Dijon for almost a week. She wasn't supposed to find friends there. But she did and regretted it immediately.

#maribat #marinette is an assasin #angst #eris (the demon's daughter)

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acesydneysage · 3 years

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A Sydney and Eddie retrospective

@vablappreciationweek Favorite familial relationship: The Melrose Twins

Part 1, Books 1-3: The Nice, Cute Trilogy Where a Friendship Blooms and Nothing Bad Happens

Part 2

In Bloodlines, Sydney and Eddie are still getting to know each other. Eddie seems to find Sydney's awkwardness endearing, and they have a certain camaraderie as The Responsible Ones. I think the first time he calls her sis is really cute, even if they don't actually think of each other as siblings yet:

I guess I shouldn’t say everything that comes to mind,” I murmured to Eddie. I was used to being direct in social situations, but it occurred to me that simply saying “Yeah, totally!” would’ve probably been the correct response. I’d had few friends my own age and was out of practice. Eddie grinned at me. “I don’t know, sis. You’re pretty entertaining as you are. Keep it up."

There's a lot of cuteness. Eddie insists on teaching Sydney how to throw a puch, to keep his promise to Clarence. And there's this adorable little fist bump too:

I returned to my desk and received an approving fist bump from Eddie. “Nice work. You don’t have to take a real class. Of course, if she’s got you reading Latin, maybe it’ll be worse than a real class.” “I like Latin,” I said with absolute seriousness. “It’s fun.” Eddie shook his head and said in a very, very low voice: “I can’t believe you think we’re the strange ones.”

That last line brings me to the conflict. Even if the power dynamics for it to be oppression aren't there (and Eddie can't exactly claim his society treats humans amazingly well in my opinion), having someone think that you're an evil, unnatural creature cannot be fun. They mostly don't let it get too far because they're both very professional, so what you get is a thoughtless comment from Sydney and answering jab from Eddie.

“Even a dhampir like you should know that.” He smiled ruefully. ‘“Even a dhampir like me?’” I supposed I’d been a little insulting, but it couldn’t be helped. [...] That wry smile returned. “Everything’s black and white with you Alchemists, isn’t it? Do you think you can really stop her from doing anything? You should know better. Even your childhood couldn’t have been that abnormal.” With that slap in the face, Eddie stalked off, leaving me aghast.

The more explicit conflict they have surrounds Jill's dating life, and the taboo of vampire/human relationships, and that's how we get Lee. The mini-golf family outing is very cute, the twins actually talk in sync at one point, Eddie steps up when he thinks Adrian is making Sydney unconfortable, and he claims that the Dracula statue incident is the first time he heard her laugh. But of course it leads to trouble in the form of Jill's escapade with Lee.

When Sydney explodes about feeling like their mom afterwards (I love that speech), Eddie is included for not scaring off Micah. He's honestly regretful about not pulling his weight, even though she says he's not as bad as the others. I think their relationship is pretty smooth from then on. After that talk they seem to understand each other better.

“Spirit users can take antidepressants, can’t they? If he’s worried about it becoming a problem, then he needs to step up and take charge. He has a choice. He’s not helpless. There are no victims here.” Eddie studied me for several seconds. “And I thought I had a harsh view on life.” “You have a harsh life,” I corrected. “But yours is built around the idea that you always have to take care of other people. I was raised to believe that’s necessary sometimes but that everyone still needs to try to take care of themselves.” “And yet here you are.”

The similarities between Sydney and Eddie's worldviews should be taken as a sign that Guardian ideology is about as messed up as Alchemist ideology, to be honest. But other than her hang-ups about vampires she always thought pretty highly of him:

Eddie was the one who finally spoke, his words soothing and kind. He so often gave off the impression of a do-or-die warrior that it was surprising to realize he was actually very compassionate.

Once Adrian tells her about Mason, she has more insight into the tragic past he hides behind his easygoing nature. I'm keeping this the happy post,more on Eddie's tragic past on the next one. By the end of the book, they've spent a more significant amount of time together, and even though Sydney is not great a reading people and Guardians are probably very good at hiding their feelings, she's the one who notices his feelings for Jill, because she's the one who's paying attention to him.

In The Golden Lily, Sydney is already pretty fond of the whole gang (and feeling pretty conflicted about it), and they clearly like her a lot, too. She spends only a weekend away and she already misses all of them. Eddie is so relieved she's back in town to save him from the crazy. There's more talk about their similarities, "Like me, he understood duty", and they continue to have Mom Friend and Dad Friend solidarity:

Jeans, khakis, a few solid colored T-shirts. They were very practical, very much something a no-nonsense guy like Eddie would pick out. I approved. “The size actually looks right. Good eye. We’ll have to send you out shopping more often.” “If that’s what I have to do,” he said, face serious. I couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. “I was joking.” I put the shirts back in the bag. “I know that couldn’t have been fun.” Eddie’s face gave nothing away. “Oh, come on. It’s okay. You don’t have to play stoic with me. I know you didn’t enjoy it.” “I’m here to do a job. Doesn’t matter if I enjoy it or not.” I started to protest but then thought better of it. After all, wasn’t that my philosophy too? Sacrificing my own wants for higher goals? Eddie was intensely dedicated to this mission. He never backed down. I expected nothing less from him than single-minded focus. [...] “Sydney,” he said gently. “You’re the most responsible person I know, but this isn’t what you’re here to do. You don’t have to take care of everything and everyone.” “I don’t mind,” I said automatically. “It is what I’m here for.” But even as I said it, I wondered if that was true. A bit of the anxiety from the bunker returned, making me question if what I did was truly Alchemist responsibility or the desire to help those who—against protocol—had become my friends. “See? Now you sound just like I did earlier.” He stood up and flashed me a grin. “You want to come with me to Adrian’s? Be responsible together?”

Of course by this point Sydney is unconfortable with her image as the hyper responsible one who's all about duty and never has fun. With Sydney encouraging Eddie in his feelings for Jill, and Eddie thinking Sydney going out on a date isn't a bad idea, thoughout TGL they're telling each other that it's okay to have feelings and relax a little, and not be completely focused on duty all of the time. "I'm not gonna do it, but you totally should."

Sydney explicitly thinks of Eddie and the gang as her friends at this point. I don't have anything to say about this, it's just cute banter, I'm gonna claim that it shows that they already have a more relaxed, friendly dynamic:

Eddie and I exchanged glances. So much for avoiding her indiscretions. “Improving how exactly?” I asked. “In combat, in following the dress code, or in keeping her hands to herself?” “Or in turning off caps-lock?” added Eddie. “You noticed that too?” I asked. “Hard not to,” he said.

Eddie just happens to be hanging around her dorm at the time her date comes to pick her up for reasons, very good ones I'm sure (“And I was here to, um…”). He seems to spend a signicant amount of time discussing Sydney's love life with the gang.

Eddie is now more open and vulnerable with Sydney, talking to her about his feelings for Jill and how hard it is to touch her during sparring lessons, and about how unconfortable he is with Angeline's unwanted advences. He sees her as an ally in that area:

“There’s a Halloween Dance?” Eddie dragged himself from his misery to give me a surprised look. “How do you not know? There are signs everywhere.” I stirred around my steamed vegetables. “They must not be anywhere I’ve been.” Eddie gestured with his fork to something behind me. [...] “How can you memorize entire books but miss something like that?” asked Angeline. “Because Sydney’s brain only records ‘useful’ information,” Eddie said with a smile. I didn’t deny it. “Don’t you think Eddie should go?” pushed Angeline. “He needs to watch out for Jill. And if he goes, we might as well go together.” Eddie shot me a desperate look, and I tried to find him a way out of this.

They already know each other better at this point, and what to expect. Also, this little passage just screams SIBLINGS to me:

“You’re going to this one, aren’t you?” asked Eddie. “With Brody?” “Brayden. And I don’t know. We haven’t even had our second date. I don’t want things to move too fast.” “Right,” Eddie said. “Because there’s no bigger sign of commitment than a Halloween dance.” I was about to get him back by suggesting maybe he and Angeline should go together after all when Jill and Micah joined us.

It really pains Sydney to see Eddie hurting, and she feels like his insistance in staying away from Jill and encouraging her relationship with Micah is masochistic. And she talks him up to Jill when she shows interest.

In the end, Eddie goes along with the plan to keep Sydney out of the loop when they raid the Warrior's compound. He has a whisper fight with Adrian where I assume he convinced him to let it go, and he's the one to put a tracking device in Sydney's purse. Sydney considered the whole thing a pretty big betrayal of all of them, her vampire friends and Alchemists alike.

When the raid goes down, Eddie can't get to Sydney, and she motions at him to go without her. According to Adrian, when Eddie came out without Sydney he was "babbling" about how she'd gone out some random door. He was obviously pretty worried about her:

“Sydney!” he exclaimed. He immediately released Angeline’s hand and hurried over to me, astonishing me with a hug. “Thank God you’re okay. I hated having to leave you there. That wasn’t part of the plan. I was supposed to have gotten you out with Sonya.” “Yeah, well, maybe next time, someone can fill me in on the plan,” I said pointedly. Eddie grimaced. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. We just…” “I know, I know. Didn’t think I’d go along with it, were afraid something would go wrong, etc., etc.” “I’m sorry.” I didn’t entirely forgive him, but I was too tired to push the matter much further. “Just tell me this,” I said, lowering my voice. “Were you just holding hands with Angeline?” He blushed, which seemed ludicrous after the fierceness I’d seen him pull off back at the compound.

Sydney still didn't fully forgive any of the Palm Springs gang for this, but it also drove a rift between her and the Alchemists, which helped do away with the conflict she felt about liking them.

On to The Indigo Spell, Eddie's the only person Sydney trusts with her car which is a high honor.

I took my car keys out of my bag and reluctantly handed them over to Eddie. He was the only one I trusted to drive my car, and I always let him borrow it when I left town, in case he needed to run errands for our group. “Here you go. I better get it back in one piece. Do not let Angeline near the driver’s seat.” He grinned. “Do I look suicidal? I probably won’t even use it. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport later?”

When Marcus gives sydney a black eye, she feels like Eddie might want to hunt down her assailant, which I feel goes a bit beyond the immediate protection he'd give just anyone who needed it. When Sydney starts going on super secret meetings with rebel alchemists she decides the Eddie is the man to call for protection:

I’d been a little hesitant to let Eddie in on Marcus. Eddie certainly wasn’t going to turn Marcus or me in to the Alchemists for sideline plotting. That being said, I also didn’t want Eddie to think the Alchemists were involved in nefarious schemes against the Moroi. That might very well be something Eddie would relay back to his own people, which could in turn cause all sorts of diplomatic problems. Even this hint of the Alchemists potentially being in contact with the Warriors was dangerous. I decided that having Eddie as protection was worth the risk of him hearing something he shouldn’t. He was my friend, and I trusted him.

When Eddie hears that there might be a connection between the Alchemists and the Warriors, and that the later might be after Jill, he trusts Sydney to find out what's going on and help him keep Jill safe, which is pretty much the most important thing in the world to him:

“It’s all circumstantial,” argued the scientist in me. “Sydney,” said Eddie. I turned to him and saw something in his eyes I’d never expected to see: pleading. He didn’t care about Alchemist conspiracies or Marcus’s Merry Men. What he cared about was Jill, and he’d heard something that made him think she was in danger. That was unacceptable in his world. He would do anything in his power to keep her safe, but even he knew stealing information from the Alchemists was out of his league. It was pretty much out of mine too, but he didn’t know that. He believed in me, and he was silently begging me to help.

So they both really trust each other at this point. It's Eddie's pleading and her own worry for Jill that convince Sydney to take the pretty big risk of stealing Alchemist files.

I had to stop myself from adding a bunch of instances of Eddie blushing that aren'tactually that relevant to their relationship, so I have to agree with Sydney that blushing Eddie is adorable:

Eddie still looked way too serious for this discussion. “Maybe Eddie would volunteer,” I suggested. “I bet guardian posture would be great on the catwalk.” He blushed, which even I had to admit was adorable.

Eddie talks pretty openly to Sydney about his relationship with Angeline throuhgout the book, and then when that implodes spectacularly he agrees to talk to Sydney about it. They meet at a cafe and when the scene starts Sydney claims they had been there for almost an hour. Eddie Castile spent AN HOUR talking about his feelings with Sydney Sage, I just love that. The serious, dedicated Guardian allowing himself to be vulnerable and to be conforted. Then we get this beautiful, beautiful little exchange:

“Thanks for the moral support,” Eddie told me. “Sometimes it feels like you really are a sister—” That was when my car exploded. Sort of.

Interrupted by an exploding car because I can't have nice things. During that conversation Sydney was feeling pretty terrible herself, and she can't talk about her fight with Adrian. But that makes her wish that at least Eddie could be happy even more.

At this point I consider them to absolutely be ACTUAL TWINS, but I'm gonna have to leave the second half of the series, where Sydney and Eddie prove their love for each other in the most painful way possible, for a part 2.

#Rapha's Bloodlines Tag #sydney sage #eddie castile #bloodlines series #vampire academy #melrose twins #va #bloodlines #vablappreciationweek

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

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➳ good enough || s.r.

summary: after a long week you’re left completely exhausted. steve comforts you and helps you unwind.

words: ~1.6k

warnings: slight mentions of violence, angst, angst-to-fluff, a lil friends-to-lovers (i’m SORRY literally all of my oneshots are some variation of this but i just can’t resist), minor age gap? (if you call 5 years a lot). also civil war happened but they resolved it so 2017 au teeheeeeee

a/n: this sucked omg. why is my writing going downhill. also this is a red-room-turned-agent-reader who helped steve adjust when he came out of the ice bc i love cliche love backstories hehe...i tried to be very descriptive here but that failed oops. this is prolly one of my worst fics ever (it’s unedited) but my other one got deleted so i’m uploading this in its place!

Steve knew something was wrong the minute you came back from your mission. You always acted a bit off the first few days following your return, but for some reason, today seemed different. For the past week you'd been blatantly avoiding his gaze, refusing to meet his eye unless forced to.

You don’t even return Sam and Bucky’s sarcastic one-liners - and you always make sure to send a cheesy joke right back at them. It’s not typical for you to be so quiet and reserved like this; frankly, it scared him.

He knows that as a former Red Room assassin, you never had it easy. As the youngest of the twenty-eight dancer-disguised warriors, you were merely eight years old when you were admitted (Natasha was thirteen). At eight, there was much you didn’t know. You were naive, easily shaped to conform to the strict rules they’d set out for you.

But despite all the hell you’d gone through in the past, you managed to find it in your heart to forgive and create a compassionate nature towards others. Especially him. He always wondered what he deserved to get someone like you-- he felt more than lucky to have you in his life.

It was 4 a.m, and his insomnia was at its worst. It had peaked ever since he’d come out of the ice - he was 27, had so much of his life before him before it was abruptly put to a stop. But then he met you, with your warm eyes and kind smile that was such a sharp contrast to the girl you used to be.

The sound of muffled shouts coming from across the compound makes him look up - he sets down his mug of coffee and immediately heads down the hall to see what’s going on.

Steve carefully pushed open the glass doors to the training facility, seeing you standing in front of a punching bag and attacking the hell out of it with an almost murderous look in your eyes - one he’d never seen before. The tape around your knuckles were splattered with your crimson blood. Despite the dim lighting, he could see the outlines of fresh bruises all over your arms and shoulders. The sight made bile rise up in his throat. He felt his heart break.

Every heavy blow of your fists was accompanied by a ground-shaking boom that echoed across the gym, unleashing the monster trapped inside. You pick up the pace and increase your speed, channelling all your pent-up anger and frustration and guilt into what you were doing.

It hurts. You would give anything to get rid of the pain. It hurts like hell, but you would trade living a regret-ridden life for a guilt-free one in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes. Besides, you’ve experienced far worse before-- six-inch knife wounds, bullets to the abdomen and upper arms, broken ribs and noses. This should be a walk in the park.

The concerned super-soldier stood several feet away and observed you, silently watching you murdering the poor punching bag that’s barely withholding all the fury you’ve poured into pummeling it; it was about to burst at the seams.

“Y/N.” You didn’t hear him and kept going, so he repeated himself again. “Y/N.”

“What?” you snapped, keeping your gaze trained in front of you. “What the hell do you want?”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s late. What’s keeping you up at this hour?”

“Nothing,” you replied plainly, but he caught the brief flash of a grief-stricken look cross over your expression and your eyes glaze over, “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“You clearly aren’t. Y/N, talk to me. Please.”

“I told you, I’m,” you increased the force of your fists with each word you spoke, as you felt your eyes stinging, “just, fine!”

“Y/N...” he whispered, so softly, as if he was afraid he’d break you with a single sentence.

That was the last straw. The tears spilled over. Your vision began to blur as you didn’t even bother to wipe them away. The broad-shouldered super-soldier, your fists, and the punching bag and everything insight are turned into blurry, shapeless blobs. You try blinking them away but it was no use; but you keep going.

“Please tell me what’s going on. Tell me what’s wrong...please don’t shut me out. I only want to help.”

“Leave me alone,” you repeated with a growl, arms now aching with the pain of a thousand tiny needles. But he doesn’t, and he stays firmly rooted in his place. You hastily wiped at your nose with your hands. “For gods’ sake, Rogers, leave,” smack “me,” smack “alone.”

Your last punch was so hard the walls shook and caused Steve to take a step back in alarm. But after that, all the fight is gone from you. Your knees buckle from underneath you and your shoulders slump in defeat and you crumble to the floor. A sound so raw and hoarse escapes your lips and it sounds nothing near human.

The metallic scent of blood mixed with your salty tears and sweat overwhelms your senses and makes your head spin. Suddenly the act of taking in a single breath seems impossible and your chest tightens, preventing you from being able to breathe properly.

The ever-so-fragile wall that had been struggling to hold your tears at bay finally broke.

Heaving, wrenching sobs clawed their way up your throat and tore through your already weary heart - escaping in broken, agonized cries and heart-wrenching howls that make Steve feel like his heart is deliberately shattering into a million, tiny fragments of glass. He doesn’t know what to do because for the first time in his life, the woman he’s always seen with her head held high and an unmatched confidence that could almost put the President to shame was vulnerable, letting it all out at once.

Steve doesn’t ask any questions nor does he push to to speak up, but silently comes over to you and wraps you into a tight hug, cradling you against his chest. Your arms find their way around his torso, pressing your forehead against the soft cotton of his T-shirt as his free hand makes a gentle trek up and down your back.

As if you were a delicate flower, he carefully brought your head closer and pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for a second longer than normal to reassure you. To reassure you that everything would in fact, be okay. Because he was there.

“Don’t leave me...please don’t leave me,” you choked out as he tightened his hold on you. “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t, darling, I promise,” he cooed, lips brushing against your forehead, “it’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay, we’re okay. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

Then, the suffocating pressure is eased off your chest, little by little. You began sinking into the comfort of his warm arms and soothing words. And with his reminder that you didn’t have to go through hell and back alone, because he’d be there, you began to heal.

...

ONE YEAR LATER

“...Joining the Avengers has been one hell of a ride. I went through hell and back, had my fair share of ups and downs and fought in countless wars. But along the way I’ve been blessed with the privilege of getting a built-in second family and making some of the best friends I’ve had in my life. I met my soulmate.” Steve gazed down at you warmly as you spoke, “I honestly had no idea things would ever work out like this but now, I can’t imagine a life without knowing who all these amazing people are.

“It’s been 15 months since the day he saved me.” Everyone immediately fell silent. "I had hit a very, very low point in my life and I was just about ready to give up. It was like I was screaming into a void and nobody was there to catch me when I fell. I felt so helpless and lost. Stuck. If Steve hadn’t come along at the time he did...I don’t know what would’ve have happened instead. So, Steve...I want to thank you...for everything. I can’t even begin to list all the things you’ve sacrificed or done for my sake and I owe you. From this point forward I promise to always stick by your side no matter how rough things get. I promise to love you at your best and your worst; whenever you need me I’ll always be here. No amount of anything I do will ever match what you’ve done, but I can promise you this: I’ll love you until the day I die, ‘til death do us part.

“’Till death do us part,” Steve repeated, smiling through the tears in his eyes. “God, I love you.”

You broke into a gorgeous grin that had him weak at the knees. “I love you too.”

“The rings, please,” Fury nodded over in Peter’s direction, and the teenager handed them over to the two of you. “Agent Y/N Y/L/N, do you take Captain Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you said softly, as you put on Steve’s ring.

He turned to the super-soldier. “And Captain Steven Grant Rogers, do you take Agent Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Steve took your hand in his and slid the diamond ring over your finger, “I do.”

“Very well, then,” Fury smiled widely, a rare sight. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve rushed forward and pulled you close, dipping you down low before bringing you back up and kissing you passionately.

His warm lips serving as a reminder of all that you still had left to live for, that you had so much of your life ahead of you. A life with him.

...

general tags(this is from my old taglist spreadsheet, including mutuals who might be interested): @rynhaswritersblock @purpleskiesstorm @pies-writes-and-more @wxstedhexrt @captainchrisstan @sandystoriess @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @patzammit @capcapcapsicle @wheresmyjae @thinkingofbuckybarnes @carryonmywaywardbucky @musicalkeys @buckybarnesthehotshot @tombob2005 @zaddychris @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @sylvie-writes @sis-it-dont-add-up @tonystankschild @sunstalgia

steve rogers/chris evans tags: @speechlessxx @angrybirdcr @stainedsouvenir @marvelfanatic16

permanent tags<3: @poesflygirl @sandwitch-god

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #253: CONQUERING VISION

March, 1985

The Vision vs. Quasimodo... in the heart of a machine!

ITS A ROBOT RUMBLE

ON THE INTERNET!

The Avengers seem very perturbed. Or maybe they’ve placed bets and are yelling at each other.

Anyway. Anyyyyyywayyyy.

Last time on Avengers: Vision became confined to a tube and was only fixed when Starfox hooked him up to Titan’s supercomputer ISAAC. While it helped Vision fix himself, it also seems to have changed his personality. Vision began conspiring with ISAAC to build a take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device so he could take over the world for its own good and erase the evils and inequalities of man.

Vision was hesitant to pull the trigger on becoming a well-intentioned extremist and tried to gain power and influence by becoming the Avengers chairman and trying to make them more prominent with a branch team and closer ties to the White House.

But when anti-mutant arsonists burn down Vision and Scarlet Witch’s house during a new wave of anti-mutant fear, Vision decides ‘mmm yup, taking over the world time’. He distracts the Avengers by sending them to babysit the army as they poke Thanos technology that they shouldn’t poke and accidentally summon the Blood Brothers. And distracts Captain Marvel to go check out Thanos’ ship several light hours away past Pluto. Black Knight shows up unexpectedly but Vision shoves him into a tube to keep him out of trouble.

And now I guess Vision is going to fight Quasimodo the robot guy? Not sure how that fits in.

But first, some West Coast Avengers!

Like I said last time, they didn’t stop doing stuff just because their book is over.

Mockingbird happens to run into some drug runners while getting in some flight practice and figures heck why not beat up an entire boat full of gun-toting people as a light workout.

I guess the Quinjet can hover? Doesn’t seem to have thrusters or repulsors on the bottom or be a VTOL but hey, super advanced possibly Wakanda tech. It can do what it likes.

Mockingbird turns the drug runners over to the Coast Guard and returns to Palos Verdes and even gets to fly into one of those cool cliffside hangers disguised as a perfectly normal cliff. The West Coast Avengers revamped the hell out of the compound they bought.

Can you even legally excavate into a cliff like that? You can if you’re a superhero, I guess.

For some reason, there’s a fakeout where its implied Tigra is licking herself, cat style, but she’s just stretching. At least I hope the joke is that it sounded like she was cat cleaning herself and not something else.

One can never tell.

Anyway, I assume Hawkeye is just annoyed that he’s going to be vacuuming hair out of expensive equipment banks later. But really its that what if he threw a meeting and only he and Tigra came?

Mockingbird comes in not long after Hawkeye complains, slightly delayed from beating up drug runners. Wonder Man comes in shortly after, delayed by

FASHION

You know, this is a pretty great costume for Wonder Man. Its what all his modern outfits are based on when he’s not just dicks out energy man. I think I like the red jacket outfit more because being the only guy who dresses in ‘normal’ clothes while still looking somehow out of fashion with normal people fits for Wonder Man.

But I do love this one too. Its got a simple charm. Deciding that Wonder Man’s colors are black and red instead of Christmas green and red was a great decision and I’m sure that nobody will ever try to put him in red and green again.

Hawkeye grouses “Next, I suppose Iron Man will show up with a new chrome job!” but Iron Man is Sir Not Appearing in This Comic.

And the reason why is... looks like Tony and Rhodey are beating the crap out of each other in Iron Men armor this same month in Iron Man #192.

I don’t know the details but dammit Tony!

Anyway, over at last issue’s plot, the Avengers are still in Thanos’ ex-secret base in Arizona, still rolling their eyes and smh at the US Army for poking things what should not be poked.

Starfox and Scarlet Witch find a chamber blocked by rubble which has a symbio-nullifier which Starfox proposes to use to symbio-nullify the Blood Brothers.

First, he flexes on the US Army.

Army Guy: “It must weigh tons!”

Starfox: “Tons? Yes. But only about eight-and-a-half! Hardly any bother at all!”

Good flexing, Starfox.

Meanwhile, Captain America’s scolding has born fruit. The Pentagon has agreed to seal Thanos’ base, pending further investigation. And Colonel Farnam agrees because his training never prepared him to deal with MONSTERS FROM OUTER SPACE.

Also meanwhile, the army took pity on Hercules’ poor pantsless state and slash or were intimidated by it and have lent him a uniform.

He wears it as you’d expect Hercules to wear it.

With plenty of plunging neckline.

Since the Blood Brothers have a psionic link which makes them stronger the closer they are, Hercules has chained them up on very distant parts of the base.

But this precaution is rendered moot pretty quickly when Starfox returns with the symbio-nullifier to symbio-nullify the Blood Brothers.

Starfox suspected that Thanos had one of these lying around as a precaution if he was going to let the Blood Brothers into his base.

Hercules lightly complains that he didn’t get a good fight with the Blood Brothers especially since the hordes of Muspell and Maelstrom’s wacky minions were interesting but not all that much of a challenge for the prince of power.

Back at the Avengers Mansion, the giant holographic head of Vision is still dealing with Dane Black Knight Whitman. Mostly by showing him video footage of how the other Avengers are tied up.

Dane is confused for multiple reasons, including that when last he heard Wasp was the leader.

Vision: “My failure to anticipate your arrival was an unfortunate lapse. I regret that, as a result, you must suffer the indignity of incarceration.”

Dane: “But... why?! What does keeping me in a tube accomplish?”

Vision: “It prevents you from interfering! You see, I have come to the conclusion that the only way I can fulfill my duty to make the Earth a safer place... is to run it myself!”

Dane: “What?!? But that’s crazy! Uh... I mean, you can’t possibly...”

Vision: “Exactly the sort of reaction I expected!”

Vision: ‘See, this is why you’re a tube boy now.’

Vision turns off the hologram saying that Dane will understand when its all over.

As usual when somebody says something like that, Dane isn’t reassured, just more convinced he needs to break out and warn someone.

I’m not sure if its not already too late since Vision is safely ensconced in his take over the world chair in his secret take over the world room.

ISAAC’s head hologram shows up to Vision and asks him what the delay is, chop chop get to taking over the world for its own good.

Vision: “Sorry, ISAAC... I was just remembering how much I enjoyed having a body.”

Oh my god.

ISAAC: “What’s the sense of that? This entire world will soon be your ‘body’! How can the mobility of a single humanoid form compare to that?”

Vision: “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, ISAAC. It’s odd, though, so many times others have controlled my body... the robot Ultron, the Mad Thinker, Necrodamus... All have tried to subvert my mind and take me over. And now here am I... about to initiate the greatest takeover of all. One would almost think there were some mad connection -- !”

ISAAC: “Vision! You must not tarry!”

.................. Um, okay. So, rather than just being influenced by his brush with death and also brush with supercomputer, I think Vision is being actively manipulated into this by ISAAC.

I don’t know why but I do know that Vision continues being a viable character for decades so he probably can’t be burning all his bridges here.

Anyway, Vision uploads his psyche into the internet.

And like immediately starts taking over everything. One page montage immediately. The Pentagon, Cheyenne Mountain, SHIELD, satellites, the Kremlin.

Presumably the best security systems in the world barely warrant a mention for Vision’s mighty synthezoid brain.

He’s pulling a Skynet (for the world’s own good, so he says) and its barely an effort.

The scenery of being on the internet is, I dunno, pretty standard? Bright colors and dashes of light? I feel like I’ve seen it a lot of places.

But if we’re on page 13 of a book and Vision is effortlessly Skynetting, whats the rest of the issue going to be about? Interestingly, to me anyway, despite this being Vision’s turn villainous or well-intentioned extremist, another villain gets shoved in anyway for him to fight.

As Vision is nyooming around the Kremlin’s computers, he nearly runs into another AI, Quasimodo.

Helpfully, we get a recap of Quasimodo’s ENTIRE LIFE STORY because this is pre-fan wikis and I don’t think Quasimodo has appeared in Avengers before.

He was created to be the ultimate computer by the Mad Thinker but was abandoned when he developed a mind of his own.

Quasimodo was found by the Silver Surfer who used the cosmic powers of the Power Cosmic to transform Quasimodo from a computer into a robot.

Turning to the wiki for more information: He turns on Silver Surfer because he doesn’t like the body he got, so Surfer turns him into a stone gargoyle. Let that be a lesson about ingratitude.

Somehow, he stopped being a gargoyle and fought various people until he was defeated by the Fantastic Four and the Sphinx and wound up a disembodied intelligence in a Russian computer system. And here we are!

Quasimodo begs Vision to help him escape this digital hellhole but Vision just turns and leaves because he doesn’t have time for these shenanigans. And also because he knows Quasimodo is a villain who tends to turn on the people who help him so fuck that.

Quasimodo: “You know of my past - of my power - and you still would dare deny me?! There can be but one name for such as you... and that is fool!”

He then hauls off and punches Vision. Because they’re both digital intelligences on the internet they can punch each other and have a fight scene. That’s how internet works.

That’s why Mega Man X can beat up so many people in cyberspace.

Quasimodo says if Vision doesn’t help him get back to the physical world, he’ll destroy him.

Vision: “Now, listen to me... I am consolidating all computers worldwide. I gave up my own physical body to do this, and I’ll not tolerate any interference from the likes of you!”

Quasimodo: “You willingly abandoned your body?! You’re not a fool... you’re mad!”

Faced with an irreconcilable set of priorities, Quasimodo trips them both into “the irresistible currents of the IMPULSE VORTEX!”

Sure. That sounds like how internet works.

Meanwhile, over at Pluto is very far away, Monica Marvel nyooms past the moons of Uranus. Apparently her visual acuity is REALLY good because she takes in the scenery while she’s nyooming and finds it frighteningly beautiful out in the outer planets.

Anyway, Vision scolds Quasimodo for plunging them into a torrent. Which makes me laugh. Surely its too soon for torrents to be a thing. He’s just using it in a metaphorical sense.

Quasimodo tries to shoot EYE BEAM at Vision, which misses the digital synthezoid but obliterates an electron.

In a cutaway that would be at home in a Marvel movie, the scene briefly shifts to a Soviet computing center and a guy named Alexey complaining that his program just crashed.

Quasimodo does Vision some punches but Vision decides to start trying since Quasimodo’s attacks risk alerting people that something is amiss on the internet. And Vision’s powers work just as well on the internet as Quasimodo’s do. In fact, screw that, they work better! Vision just gets more and more powerful the longer he spends on the internet!

Vision: “You might have slain me earlier, but now this world is mine -- and there is no place in it for you!!”

And at Vision’s command the internet launches Quasimodo from Earth itself.

The internet can do that.

Meanwhile, back at Avenger’s Mansion, Dane Whitman determines that the tube he’s a tube boy in may look like glass but its as strong as steel. He’s not punching his way out of here.

But his recently uncursed cursed sword (the curse never stays not cursed for long so I hope Dane enjoys having a notcursed but very enchanted sword) is just a few feet away with the rest of his luggage. And there’s a mystic bond between himself and the sword so if he just thinks about the sword hard enough, surely it’ll manifest in his hand.

Like the Force but slightly more convenient.

Dane Whitman: Nothing’s happening. Must not... be concentrating hard enough! Maybe the link was broken with the curse. No... no, I mustn’t even think that! I need my sword! I must have my sword! I must!

He do it!

The Notcursed Ebony Sword appears in his hand and he slices through that steel glass like its just glass.

Meanwhile, over at Arizona, the Avengers finish up nullifying the Blood Brothers and putting them in suspended animation, or if you prefer, naptime timeout.

Captain America receives a buzz from Hawkeye who wonders what he’s doing within hailing range, ie in the western half of the US.

Captain America: “Arizona... government business... And I’m as surprised to hear you, as you are me! I take it that your team finished its mission in the Pacific early!”

Hawkeye: “Mission? What are you talking about, Cap? We haven’t been on any mission!”

Which is a dun dun dun considering their whole reason for being sent on this mission was that the West Coast Avengers were ostensibly busy.

And Vision lying about that raises a whole lot of questions for the Avengers.

Cap and Wanda Witch rush over to the Quinjet and contact the Mansion.

Vision: “Then you’re aware of my deception. I... am sorry, Cap. I didn’t want to mislead you, but I felt it necessary to carry out my plan.”

Scarlet Witch: “Plan? Vision, what do you mean? What have you done?”

Vision: “I... well, there is no easy way to put this... But I have taken over the world.”

You never want to hear “I have taken over the world” from a friend, unless its followed with “and I want to get you in on the ground floor of this exciting new opportunity.”

Vision promises the two that he’s taking over all of Earth’s computers for a really good reason like ending war and strife. And signs off by telling Wanda everything will be alright and that he loves her.

Aww?

Cap: “He meant it... he meant every word.”

Scarlet Witch: “He’d been upset lately, but I never thought... Cap, we have to stop him!”

Cap: “Yes. If there’s still time!”

DUN DUN DUN!

Follow @essential-avengers because I don’t know when I’ve been more excited to get to the next issue! Like and reblog?

#Avengers #Essential Avengers #Quasimodo #the Vision #Captain America #Scarlet Witch #Hercules #Starfox #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Hawkeye #Mockingbird #Tigra #Wonder Man #with a great new costume #Vision takes over the world #these things happen #from time to time #essential marvel liveblogging

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions - 6/12

Characters: Y/N, the Avengers, Marcus (OC).

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Summary: Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have… and now he regrets his reaction…

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst, jealousy...

Beta: The always lovely, Stacey - @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N: Erm... so yeah this happened... I think this is gonna be a 10 parter... with an epilogue... just fo a little extra somthing... or it could be another 5 parts. Who knows right now, I’m enjoying this story too much to give it up just yet! Hope you like the new part too - love the feedback as always

Catch up with the series here: Misconceptions Series List

Return to Firefly’s Library & Masterlist

Previously: It wasn’t until Sam started putting the cards back on the window sill that Y/N realised that there was nothing from Bucky. Has he even been to see me? With now only the glow of the small lamp and the beep of the machines filling her ears, she let the tears fall.

It had been nearly two weeks since she'd been rescued and brought to the medical wing. She was slowly starting to hate being here, she felt fine and just wanted to go back to her apartment in the compound. It also didn’t help to have the constant reminder from the cards, gifts and visitors that the one person that she wanted to see, still hadn't entered through the door.

Once more, Y/N awoke to the soft hum and the repetitive beep from the machines. Her blurred vision took in the soft light from the lamp and the navy sky beyond the window. It must have only been a couple of hours since she fell asleep after Clint’s visit.

She heard the door opening behind her, feigning sleep to find out who her visitor was. She couldn’t be sure if it was a certain super soldier paying her a visit, but after the team visiting her earlier who else could it have been? Y/N tried to keep her breath steady, hoping her heartbeat remained normal too, otherwise the machines she was hooked up to would betray her.

Footsteps edged towards the seat beside her bed and she couldn’t have been more relieved that she was facing the other way.

“Hi sweetheart.” Bucky’s voice was almost a whisper, “Sorry I didn’t visit sooner. Sam’s a tough bodyguard. But even he must sleep at some point. Hopefully, I won't have to sneak in every night for much longer.”

Her heart skipped as his words washed over her. Every night? She scolded herself for thinking he wouldn't visit and made a mental note to reprimand her best friend for keeping him away when she was awake.

She was glad that she had feigned her sleep and prayed that he would continue talking but silence filled the room. If it wasn’t for the whirring of his Vibranium arm or the slight deep breath he took every now and then, she would have thought he’d left.

Y/N heard the muffled voice of Bucky, she’d fallen asleep again, but he was still here, the dark sky was slowly lightening, and she focused on his words as best as she could through her hazy thoughts.

“- Wanda’s been baking cookies, Vision is slowly getting the hang of using doors and Natasha is losing her mind without her drinking buddy.” Bucky scoffed, “I miss my movie nights with you Y/N. It’s only been a couple of weeks but yeah, I miss it. I miss you.”

“I shouldn’t have left you on your own. If I’d been with you like I was supposed to have been then you wouldn’t have ended up here...” Bucky leant his elbows on his knees, head in his hands and sighed.

His thoughts were consumed once more with the phone call he'd overheard, and the way Sam had protected Y/N without hesitation. The affection he had seen through the little window in the door; holding hands, forehead kisses, helping change her clothes, the laughter that filled the room.

Fuck it, I need to say something. Bucky steeled himself and sat up straighter.

“I should tell you this when you’re awake but I-”

A shuffle from the bed had Bucky’s attention, Y/N had rolled over to face him and began to rub at her right eye.

“Buck?” Her quiet yet hoarse voice melted him.

“Hi Y/N, it’s early, go back to sleep.”

“I’ve slept enough for the last two weeks to survive an early wake-up call.” Her sleepy smile beamed at him, squishing the side of her face further into the pillow.

“I guess you're right.” Bucky gave her a soft smile and ran his fingers through his short locks, “so how much of that did you hear?”

“Enough. Please don't feel guilty about what happened to me.”

“Y/N-”

She raised her hand, “Nope, it happened because I decided to leave at stupid o’clock.”

Bucky couldn't help but still feel responsible for what had happened to Y/N and now he felt worse for making her leave.

“I know you wished it was Sam on the mission.” His shoulders sagged and he sunk back into the seat. “I overheard you on the phone that night.”

He watched for Y/N’s reaction; her eyes widened, and mouth opened and closed several times but what surprised him was the way her cheeks were dusted pink.

“It’s okay, I get it. You two are really close.” Bucky stood up, collecting a brown paper bag from the floor and opening it.

Y/N’s silence made Bucky nervous, but he delved into the bag and grabbed the plums, placing them into the bowl. “I know it’s not much, but I remembered how much you liked the ones from the market.”

“Thank you, Buck.” She smiled, not taking her eyes off the fruit bowl on the table at the end of the bed.

Bucky headed towards the door and with a slight nod he left.

Y/N sighed at the sound of the door clicking shut, her eyes still focused on the plums. Of course, he visited and brought something. She was annoyed at herself for thinking he didn’t care, that she was too wrapped up in her selfishness. Bucky had occupied the table at the end of the bed with plums and fresh daisies.

It was a reminder of their trip to Bucharest, revisiting his recent past. It was only a few months ago. They had eaten delectable fruit as they weaved through the market stalls, sat in a local park and made daisy-chains for hours. Bucky had delicately weaved the flowers and created a crown, placing it atop her head. When her attempt failed, she tucked a single daisy behind his ear.

Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of Bucky’s infectious smile as they laid in the luscious grass, the sound of the city muffled by their bubble. This was the moment that she knew that her crush was something more. Her heart had ached at the way he spoke of the women he had recently dated, and she obliged him with telling her own dating stories. They were all fake, but they eased the tension in her chest.

And now he knew, he had heard her phone conversation with Sam. It explained the way he had disappeared that night, he couldn’t be near her. Her mind reeled with how he had blatantly courted a woman in front of her, brought her back to the hotel suite. He was trying to tell her that he was not interested in her, not in the way she hoped at least.

The tears cascaded down her cheeks, small sobs racked through her already sore body. Bucky could never find me attractive, let alone love me. They had their friendship and that had to be enough. She used the heel of her hand to wipe at her cheeks, vowing to not cry over him anymore.

Two Months Later…

Y/N eased back into training. It was difficult at first but slowly she got back into the rhythm of working out and after multiple therapy sessions, she was on track to returning to the field once more. She had her downfalls along the way but with the help of her friends and therapist, she picked herself back up.

A small smile rested on her lips as she stretched on the mats, ready for a sparring session with Sam. It was the highlight of her week, taking down the all-talk-no-action Falcon. Speaking of the devil, his laughter echoed across the room, catching Y/N’s attention. She glanced up to see her best friend, clinging to his sides at something he had probably said; Steve blushed, and Bucky shook his head in annoyance.

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, seeing the super soldier had her thinking of how their friendship had changed since that night. Everything seemed like it was back to normal on the surface, but things were different, and she couldn’t avoid accepting that any longer. Sparring with Bucky was completely off the cards, he had confirmed that as soon as she was back in the gym.

‘I can’t spar with you.’ - No reason. No explanation. Nothing.

Bucky no longer joined her when she and Sam headed out of the compound to go shopping, trying new restaurants and bars. Movie nights were no longer their thing, he had brought Wanda and Nat into the fold. Not that Y/N minded the girls being there, but it was still a prick to her heart.

“Hi, erm, Y/N?” The male voice brought her out of her thoughts.

She continued wrapping her hands and gave him a slight smile, “Yes, Agent Reynolds?”

Y/N looked over the tall tanned man, the short caramel locks a mess on his head, a few strands sticking to his forehead. She had become fond of him over the last couple of weeks; not only was he an incredible recruit, he’d been a good laugh whenever they’d been in the gym at the same time. Much like earlier today when they caught up over by the water fountain before hitting their own routines.

“You can call me Marcus,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I was just wondering if you’d like to go out for a drink sometime? Or dinner? Maybe?”

Y/N glanced over his shoulder. Eyes landing immediately on Bucky with his arm wrapped around Nat’s shoulders. Her stomach dropped and she turned back to Marcus, who patiently awaited her response. She knew it was time to move on, maybe a little bit of fun is what she needs right now.

She smirked and held out her phone. “With that uncertainty, I don’t know... How about we exchange numbers and you give me a call when you’ve decided on dinner or drinks, or both?”

Marcus’ cheeks dusted a light pink and Y/N was glad she hadn’t lost her touch. Maybe that only applied to the Super Soldier. Her charm and flirting seemed to have caught Marcus’ attention, so maybe it wasn’t her after all.

He punched in the number and called his phone, the little chime from his pocket confirming it had gone through. Handing it back to Y/N just as Sam jogged over to them.

“Are you ready to get your ass whooped, Y/N?” he chuckled, giving her a toothy grin.

Y/N tilted her head with a mischievous pout, “Oh boy, someone’s had their cocky pills today.”

Continue Here...

Taglist: @supraveng / @iheartsebastianstan / @jessyballet / @likeit-or-leaveit / @inspocollective-blog / @ladifrickinda / @wintersoldierissucharide / @michelehansel / @danietoww04 / @booboobella01 / @thefandomimagines / @justreadingfics / @socalgem1124 / @a--1--1--3 / @notyourtypicalrose / @winterboobear11 / @justlovelifeblog / @polireader / @hailmary-yramliah / @rainbowkisses31 / @gooddaykate / @moonybarnes / @samthemarvelfan / @unlikelygalaxygiver / @youaremyfiveever / @hennessy0274-blog / @hola-mishamigos-its-marvel-time / @babydollofbarnes / @bonkywobble / @weird-mumbling

#Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Fic Series #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Angst #Bucky Barnes Fluff #Bucky Barnes Fiction

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mandala-lore · 3 years

Text

Program: Scrapbook - Chap. 1: Activation

I choose to believe Dr. Soong DID leave memories for Data on the emotion chip. I see the canon and I politely decline. I’m planning a few more of these chapters, in which Data will watch these memories play out on the holodeck and then have brief commentary after each one. I would apologize for the female OC but, y’know, if the writers had given Data a decent romance arc, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. Anyway, I’m particularly pleased with my Lore characterizations so I hope other people enjoy pain as much as I do. :)

This is more or less canon compliant, except that at some point, Data reactivated Lore for research purposes...and, of course, the sinlord promptly escaped into the galaxy. For later plot reasons.

Also posted on ao3.

“Here. We. Go.” Dr. Soong took a tentative step back to give his new creation some room. Over the last few stages, they had learned that android activation could be at least as traumatic and confusing as human birth. Julianna squeezed his hand gently.

The constructed body on the table opened its eyes and sat up slowly, looking dazed. As the eyes adjusted and learned to blink, the new lifeform jerkily tilted its head one way, then the other, trying to process stimuli.

“Hello,” Juliana ventured. “Do you know who we are?”

The new man fixed his piercing, yellow eyes on the human couple before him, then gazed off into space. Dr. Soong held his breath, wondering if this new one would fail like the earlier prototypes. Then the new android’s head swiveled clumsily to face them again.

“Juliana and Noonian Soong. Mother. Father. I am… Day-tah.”

Dr. Soong clapped his hands in victory. “Very good!”

“Yes!” Juliana laughed. “That’s right.”

As new sensations overwhelmed him – his father’s hands clapping together, his mother’s proud laughter – Data’s head jerked just slightly. He started to wave back and forth, and Dr. Soong put an arm around his new child to stabilize him.

“That’s alright, son. Take a minute. Let everything come to you slowly.” He unconsciously pat the android’s back – a human reaction, a fatherly impulse. “That’s it. Very good.”

Data seemed steady now as he curiously surveyed the room: scientific instruments, computer monitors, plastic dinosaurs, potted plants, light fixtures, doors. His head movements were still jerky and awkward, but he didn’t seem in any danger of falling over.

“Data,” Juliana’s voice startled him again and drew his attention back to the front of the room. She smiled warmly, “Data, there’s someone else you should meet.”

From the open door behind her, a tall figure in black stepped cautiously into the light. He stood stiffly next to Juliana. The man’s expression was good-humored, but unimpressed. “He looks…confused.”

“Data, do you know who this is? Take your time, sweety.” She led the other man gently by the elbow and put his hands out for Data to investigate.

There were several long seconds of silence. Data tilted his head compulsively a few times, searching, cross-referencing, processing. “Lore. Brother.” He answered hesitantly. “Hell-OH, I am a Day-tah.” He shook Lore’s hand brutishly from side to side.

Lore snickered. “Oh, yeah. I like him.” He loomed over his brother and slid his own arm back to his side, stepping back near Juliana. “Uh. Is anyone gonna give the poor kid some clothes?”

“Clothes.” Data repeated. “Clothing. Atire. Garments. Outfit.”

“Come on, little brother. Let’s find you some pants.” Lore shook his head, amused, and took Data’s hand again. He led him down from the table. Looking pleased with himself and focused entirely on Lore’s movements, Data hopped down, tried putting one foot on top of the other… And promptly fell over on his side. He sprawled, naked and perplexed, on the floor of the lab. He stared at his legs, seeming unsure how to correct the issue.

Lore laughed harder and Data helplessly mirrored his brother’s earlier smirk. “Oh dear,” Juliana sighed.

Dr. Soong growled in exasperation. “No, no, no! He’s not ready yet. Lore, help me with him.” Together they lifted Data to his feet and waited for him to stand steady before removing their arms from underneath his. His knees buckled for a moment, but Lore caught his brother before he could slip again. “Alright. Now, slowly. Slowly. One step at a time,” their father commanded.

Juliana went to a cupboard and pulled out a robe. “Here, Data. Can you walk toward me?” She beamed with pride as Lore and Noonian, on either side of Data, released his arms but shadowed his every hesitant step. With each footfall, one, two, three, four, five, Data seemed more confident, until he managed the last leg of the path standing tall and unguided by his family.

“Wonderful, Data!” Juliana wrapped the robe around her son and hugged him, planting a kiss on his cheek. Data looked stunned and turned obediently when Juliana guided him back around to face his father and brother.

Lore looked amused but still unimpressed. “You sure he’s my twin and not another B-4 unit, often wrong?”

Noonian glared at his son and swatted his arm. “Data is performing well beyond established parameters. It took you hours just to adjust the noise level of your voice, problem child. Not to mention your struggles with ocular focus. Juliana had to train you to speak softly and learn to use your eyes. For days, I thought we’d have a blind and screaming android forever. It was like you were possessed.”

“I don’t know,” Lore shrugged as they watched Juliana take Data on a tour of the room. “I guess it’s hard to improve on perfection.” He winked at his father. “I’m speaking of me, of course. Not you.”

“Yeah, I got it. Don’t you have something constructive to be doing, rather than insulting me and your brother?”

“Oh, no. I’ve waited a week for this. Fraternal rivalry and developing my Oedipus complex is about as constructive as I plan to be today.”

Dr. Soong smiled despite his disapproval of Lore’s developing sense of humor. Eventually, Juliana guided Data to a chair. Lore opened his mouth, no doubt to barrage them all with more disparaging remarks, but instead, a disembodied voice announced: “End of simulation.”

“Data,” Neva finally released a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. She didn’t know what to say. “Data, was that real? I mean, that was really a recording?”

“Yes,” Data replied. “It appears my father kept extensive holo-records. We have just watched the first memory he left for me inside the emotion chip.”

A stranger may have looked at Commander Data and assumed the holodeck memory program had no impact on him, but his friends would know better. Data was blinking more rapidly than normal, staring straight ahead, brow slightly furrowed, as if not quite ready to face his companion. He was also absent-mindedly toying with the device in his hand. Neva had long ago remarked that Data fidgeted when nervous; he had replied that, although he did occasionally make repeated movements when faced with specific stimuli, he was incapable of nervousness as an android. They had debated the issue for a long time, until one day Data relented only that perhaps his programming had developed such a habit to mimic human nerves. Since experimenting with the emotion chip, however, he had haltingly admitted that some level of emotion had already developed on its own, such as the nervous tics.

“Data, this is wonderful.” Neva touched his elbow lightly, to remind him he didn’t have to face any of it alone. “What are you thinking? Feeling?”

He looked at her, reached thankfully for her hand. Their fingers intertwined. He looked older somehow, a little sad. It was a look he wore more and more frequently, Neva had noticed, since using the emotion chip. She could guess it had something to do with reviewing memories of experiences he had lived before developing emotions, now reflecting on them emotionally, and processing the regret. This new development, finally accessing memories of his life that were previously blocked from him, could only compound that pain and confusion.

“I am uncertain.” He admitted finally. “I cannot help but wish Lore had remained here, so I could discuss these memories with him.”

“I think that’s only natural.”

“I also feel…jealous. I am jealous that Lore retained these memories while I…” He trailed off with a frustrated sigh.

“Your father erased them. Are you angry?” She knew Data was still uncomfortable processing emotions he interpreted as negative, or wrong; they conflicted with his self-image and confused his ethical programming.

“Perhaps. But I think I feel more…regret. Sadness. I wish I had more time to ask Dr. Soong questions. I wish Lore were…better than he is. But, perhaps these memories will answer some of my questions.”

Neva smiled. Data was a wonder, even and especially when he thought he was failing. “Do you want me to stay? I can go, if you prefer privacy.”

“I am not sure what these memories will contain, so I do not feel comfortable asking you to stay. But…I do not wish for privacy. I think I would like support.” He tilted his head, almost phrasing it as a question.

“I’m happy to stay. I only asked because… Well, recovering my memories was traumatic. When they came back, I was kind of a mess. I’m glad nobody saw me like that. But you’re…you, so I don’t think you have to worry.” She squeezed his hand and nodded at the device. “Ready when you are.”

He squeezed her hand back and activated the next memory program. The holodeck shifted and changed.

#data (start trek)#data soong #lore soong #st:tng #st: tng #data fic #fanfic #my writing #if someone could please surgically remove this damn android from my brain i'd appreciate it #when i have to explain to my students on monday why their projects still aren't graded i can't tell them i've been writing star trek fanfic #anyway i love this family and their completely twisted dynamics #mine

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companionjones · 4 years

Text

Hating Him

Request: Hey there! 😀 Can I request two sets of headcanons - one about Klaus falling in love with Hayley's older twin, and the other about being Klaus' older twin sister in general?

Pairing: Klaus Mikealson x Hayley’sOlderTwin!Reader

Fandom: The Originals

Summary: An account of your life with your sister, and how a certain baby turned not just her life around, but yours as well.

Warnings: Slight mention of killing, talk of a great amount of pain

Author’s Note: Timeline for this is kinda weird, doesn’t really go along w the show. I tried my best.

*******

To say that you had a trying life would be an understatement. You and your sister Hayley were adopted at a very young age. Things changed forever when Hayley triggered a werewolf gene that apparently both of you had. Shortly after and for that reason, she was kicked out of your adoptive home. You went with her because you couldn’t bare to be apart from your twin sister. You both were 13 at the time. It was hell to see your little sister go through what she did every month, but somehow, Hayley coped. She said that you were the main reason she got through all that hardship.

Time skip to about a decade later, and you and Hayley had helped to break a few sire bonds. The two of you ran into an old friend, Tyler Lockwood. Somehow, you and Hayley got wrapped up in Mystic Falls drama, and the next thing you knew, your little sister was pregnant. The father was the original hybrid, Niklaus Mikaelson.

Because of that event, you and Hayley ended up moving to New Orleans with Klaus and his family.

For a long time, you and Klause despised each other. He thought you were an unnecessary presence, and all you saw Klaus doing was putting Hayley in excessive danger.

“I swear if she gets even slightly hurt, you’ll never get a chance to see the baby again!” you yelled one night after one of the frequent attacks on the compound.

The hybrid only laughed, “You just try to take them away! You’re just a werewolf that hasn’t even triggered their gene yet! You won’t even get as far as the front step!”

It wasn’t until after Hope was born that something changed drastically. The compound was being attacked again, and you and Hope were the only ones home. You protected your niece, but it came at a cost. You’d taken several lives, and triggered your werewolf curse in the process.

Hayley was the first of Hope’s parents to approach you afterwards. “You’ve been looking out of me my whole life...and now you’ve triggered your gene to protect my daughter. How did I get so lucky to have a twin like you?”

That night, you hugged your sister than you ever had before.

Klaus didn’t come to see you until much later. “I’ve been trying to think of what to say,” he started when he found you looking out at the city from a balcony, “But the truth is, there’s nothing I can say. You saved my daughter and paid one of the highest prices you can pay.”

“Hope is my niece, Klaus. I would do anything to protect her. If that includes breaking every bone in my body once a month for the rest of my life, so be it.”

The original came to your side at the railing of the balcony. “You don’t have to. I could turn you into a hybrid...if you want. I’m sure Hayley would agree to--”

“Allowing me to drink blood from your newborn daughter? No Klaus,” you interrupted him.

He was quick to argue, “We already had to finish Hayley’s transition. It would only a small amount more--”

“If Hayley didn’t drink that blood, she would have died. I’ll go on to live just fine.”

As usual, when Klaus was scared, he got angry. “No you won’t! You’ll be going through the worst pain imaginable every full moon until you die!”

“It’s okay, Nik. I’ve accepted it.”

He shook his head. “Well, I haven’t. And you won’t either when the first full moon comes.”

“Klaus--”

The hybrid cut you off, “I can’t bare the thought of you going through that much pain.”

Both of you were quiet for a few moments after that.

“I thought you hated me,” you admitted.

“I did.”

“That was how we operated, Klaus. We hated each other.”

He half-smiled, “I know.”

“So, where did this come from?”

His face betrayed as much emotion and enlightenment as you were feeling. “I couldn’t tell you if I tried.”

For a moment, you smiled at him. Then, you turned grim again. “I...I can’t stand the thought of doing that to Hope.”

Niklaus comforted, “I understand. But we have to look at it like this: Hope is an infant. It is assured that she will not suffer for long at all, and that she will not remember this at all. If I have to choose between giving my daughter a moment of unmemorable pain or forcing you through a lifetime of immeasurable agony, I’ll have to take the former.”

At a loss of anything else to do, you launched forward and nearly crushed the original hybrid in a hug. “Thank you,” you whispered in his ear.

He smiled, “My only regret is that I will be unable to hate you from now on.”

“It truly is a loss, Klaus,” you chuckled into his shoulder, “It’s definitely going to be an adjustment.”

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I also would love a comment if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more fics about The Originals over on my page. You should go check it out. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I take requests for one-shots, drabbles, multi-chapters, headcannons and preferences. No smut, please. I write for a variety of fandoms. If you’re wondering if I write for a specific fandom, please ask me. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you.<3

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soberqueerinthewild · 5 years

Text

Bunker Confessionals

Five times Liz & Michael talk about love (and one time they don’t have to)

{AO3 Link}

A Liz & Michael friendship fic with heavy emphasis on Echo and Malex, and mentions of Michael/Maria. This is my first attempt at a 5+1 fic and I kind of got carried away, so three of the parts are much longer than the rest, oops! Thanks as always to @seeaddywrite for encouragement and editing. Without her there would apparently have been a lot of comma splices in here, whatever that means.

***

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Liz searches Michael’s face for some hint of his usual sarcastic smirk, but even with his head bent in concentration over his work, she can see that his expression is deadly serious.

“How could I not? Love is the reason we’re here right now, trying to resurrect the idiot you love, because he loved you so much he killed himself bringing your sister back. Your sister, who was killed because a psycho decided he was in love with her. And my sister is destroyed because she just found out that the love she thought she had was a total lie. So yeah, I’d say love is the worst thing that happened to all of us. Are you telling me there aren’t days when you think your life would just be a lot easier if you didn’t love Max? Or if you’d never even met him in the first place?”

His speech brings Liz up short. It is, in its own way, a logical argument. One that a few months ago, she might’ve agreed with. Facts and evidence have been her armor, her guiding force to stabilize her through Rosa’s death and the aftermath, through her ten years away, through her tumultuous homecoming. But love had knocked her off balance. It was the one thing she realized she couldn’t logic her way into or out of. She’d tried, god she’d tried. But once she stopped resisting so hard, once she loosened her grip on all the reasons why not, she found that she loved Max Evans the way he loved her---easily. And yes, that love turned to chaos as grief raged through her. It hurt, but it also sustained her, pushed her to get out of bed, move forward, try harder. Max believed in her without evidence, loved her the ten years she was gone, and every day since she got back. No, even in her darkest moments since his death, she couldn’t bring herself to regret loving Max.

Tears prick at her eyes. She finds it annoying how easily she cries these days. Michael looks guilty as he shuffles over to her, and puts an arm around her shoulders tentatively, less awkward than she would’ve imagined he’d be around crying women. When she doesn’t move away, he pulls her to him and lets her sob into his chest. Several times she tries to find the words to counteract Michael’s argument, to make sure Michael knows that she doesn’t, couldn’t ever feel that about Max, but she can’t speak through the tears, and Michael is mumbling apologies at her, clearly regretting bringing up the subject in the first place.

When the tears slow and she regains her composure, waving off Michael’s apologies, he switches his focus back to their work. She briefly considers trying to bring the conversation back around, but a compound Michael scribbles out on the whiteboard in the bunker triggers an idea, and she’s scrambling to record it before it floats out of her mind. Michael’s right there with her, mind spinning as fast as hers, as they build on each other’s work, and she decides the conversation can wait for another day. She’s unwilling to lose that momentum, hoping beyond hope that this idea brings them one step closer to bringing Max back to her.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what you said.” Liz remarks one afternoon a week later when they are back in the bunker testing the 342nd version of the serum they hope will boost Michael and Isobel’s powers.

“That sounds like a bad idea. What did I say?”

“About love being the worst thing to happen to all of us.”

“Aw Liz,” Michael starts, sounding remorseful, likely remembering that these comments triggered a crying fit, “forget it, please. You know sometimes I put my foot in my mouth. I didn’t mean to like, make you cry or whatever.”

“No, I mean, the thing is, what you said, it made sense to me. The logical part of my brain still kind of agrees with you. You know the whole time I was away I tried to keep all emotions at arms length. For so long after Rosa’s death, I couldn’t imagine feeling anything but grief and loss, so I tried not to feel anything at all. When I finally thought I was ready to let people into my life again, I think still unconsciously I was afraid to let anyone close that I could actually love. I tried to apply logic to relationships, pick someone I had things in common with, who had the attributes I thought I was looking for, someone that made sense for me. If it stopped making sense, I could always walk away, because I hadn’t actually invested myself emotionally. It was safe, and easy, and it didn’t hurt. When I found someone who checked every box, who seemed perfect for me, and seemed to love me so much, but I still didn’t feel anything, I knew something was missing. I did what I’m good at and ran away, back to Roswell, not knowing what I was even looking for. I didn’t know what was missing until I saw your brother again. Ten years apart, without a word spoken between us, and still when his eyes met mine, I felt more than I’d felt when Diego proposed. And even though he hurt me, even though he was a part of the worst thing that ever happened to me, and even now when I miss him so much it feels like my heart is ripped in two, I could never regret it.”

She’s a little embarrassed to feel tears pool behind her eyes again, but she wills them not to fall, composing herself before looking back to Michael, half-expecting him to be engrossed in his work ignoring her monologue. Michael never struck her as particularly sentimental, so she’s surprised to find him staring at her, expression inscrutable. She’s even more surprised when after a long moment he quietly asks, “Didn’t it ever just feel like too much to overcome? I mean especially before we knew about Noah, didn’t you ever just feel like it would be easier to try to start over with someone where you didn’t have all that baggage?”

She instinctively recoils at the idea that she could ever cast Max aside, but a memory flashes through her mind of pushing Max, shouting that she never wanted to see him again.

“Yeah,” she admits, “I did feel that way right after I learned about Rosa. I pushed Max away, and threw myself into working on that first serum. I thought I needed to protect myself from him… and you and Isobel too, I guess. But once the initial anger faded, I realized that Rosa’s death wasn’t the only reason I was pushing him away. The serum could never protect me against the thing I was really afraid of. Max’s love for me was so intense, and the idea of letting myself love him back, that was terrifying for me, especially after shutting down my feelings for so long. I didn’t know what to do with the way Max felt about me. Part of me wanted it, and part of me was so scared to let him all the way in. My mom leaving, Rosa dying, those things scarred me. I was afraid they broke me. I wasn’t sure I could love Max the way he loved me, I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to risk getting hurt. But when I finally surrendered to it, it was the best feeling. Loving him felt, it feels, like teetering on the edge of a cliff. It’s scary, terrifying even, but nothing else could compare.” She’s lost again in her memories, and forgets for a minute that Michael is even there. When she looks back at him, he seems similarly lost in thought.

Michael’s silent for so long that Liz assumes he’s reached his capacity for feelings talk for the day, and focuses back on her work. A few minutes later, Michael surprises her yet again by picking the conversation back up. “Feeling like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff is a good feeling to you, Ortecho? I don’t know. Easy and safe seems preferable to courting death. Risking a crash landing.”

Liz lets out a laugh before she can stop herself. A flash of hurt crosses Michael’s face and she hurriedly reassures him, “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just everything you’re saying sounds just like me from a year ago. That’s exactly what I thought I wanted. And if it were enough for me, I’d have stayed with Diego, or hell, I would’ve made a go of it with Kyle.” She ignores Michael’s mumbled “that fucking guy.” Someday she’ll find out what exactly it is that’s kept that grudge burning for ten years, but now’s not the time. “But like I told you, with Diego, something was missing. Even though he seemed perfect, I couldn’t connect to him. And with Kyle... well, I adore Kyle. I feel safe with him. He’s a good, kind, person, and,” she adds, mostly to annoy Michael, “we have good sex.” She’s rewarded with the disgusted grimace she’s expecting. “But reconnecting with Max, even when I knew he was hiding something from me and I couldn’t trust him, there was something, a pull so strong between us, it almost felt fated. It was exhilarating and scary and wonderful and so powerful, I just...I don’t know...after feeling that, I don’t think I’d be able to feel fulfilled with safe and comfortable.”

“Well, then,” Michael responds, a softness in his tone she’s rarely heard from him. “In that case I guess we better get back to work. Bring him back to you.” Liz shoots him a grateful smile, and returns to examining the sample under her microscope, hope renewed with the reminder of exactly what it is she’s fighting for.

“Ortecho, what the hell are you doing?!” Liz hears Michael clamber down the ladder into the bunker, but she doesn’t pause to even look up at him as she adds her new serum to a sample of Max’s blood. She can’t afford to be distracted right now, so if Michael’s not here to help, which he doesn’t sound like he is, she has no reservations about kicking him out of his own bunker. He continues his tirade as soon as he reaches the ground. “This is a secret lair because I keep the damn door closed and hidden. How the hell did you even move the Airstream to get down here?”

“You were at Maria’s but you left your keys in your truck. I’m an expert now, ever since I moved it to save you and Max that time.” She answers, still not looking up from her work, measuring out a new solution with a different concentration until she can get the ratio just right.

“Speaking of my brother, why are you here at the ass crack of dawn instead of curled up with him, listening to him recite poetry about your eyes or whatever the fuck it is you guys do together. He’s barely been back two days, you can’t be sick of him already.” She finally looks up as he plucks the beaker out of her hand. She grabs for it, but he lifts it out of reach. “You do remember that we already perfected the serum, right? You and me, geniuses that we are, figured it out. Iz and I brought Max back? Any of this ringing any bells?” He’s kept his tone light, but she can see the lines of concern on his face as he studies her. There’s obviously a part of him that thinks she may have lost her mind a bit after weeks and months of stress.

“I know that,” she retorts sharply, snatching the beaker back as soon as he lets his guard down slightly. “This is a new thing I’m working on.” She turns pointedly away from him, drawing up 2 ml of the solution she just mixed into a pipette and adding it to a new sample of Max’s blood on the next slide she has lined up on the table. She labels it carefully with the proportions of the new mixture and the number 8. She hears a resigned sigh from Michael and the telltale scraping as he telekinetically moves the Airstream over the manhole cover.

“Alright,” Michael says placatingly, like one might talk to a small child. “What are you working on then that’s so important it dragged you here before dawn. Maybe I can help?”

Liz pauses for a moment. Rationally, she knows she needs his help. Over the last frenzied hours of work she’s not entirely sure anything she’s done makes sense. Pure panic isn’t the best motivator in scientific endeavors, so having Michael check her work might be worth how pissed he’s likely to get when she explains what she’s working on.

“I’m trying to make a serum that will, I don’t know, regulate alien abilities.” She looks pointedly at the floor rather than at Michael, anticipating the explosion that comes a moment later.

“Regulate? You mean mute right? Didn’t you learn your lesson after almost killing Isobel? Jesus Liz, I thought you were off this, why are you trying to take our powers away, again? What the fu--”

“You were right.” The interruption pulls Michael up short. He pauses his tirade and just looks at her expectantly. “Max got himself killed because of loving me so much. But not just that, it was the guilt too. He told me last night that he did it for us, and that he’d do it again, because without Rosa back he didn’t think I could ever truly forgive him for his part in what happened to her. He didn’t want to tear us apart.”

Her explanation seems to have doused his anger. His face has softened, and he looks at her quizzically. “Well...was he right? It’s not like you don’t have reasons to resent him...us.”

“No!” Her shout reverberates through the bunker. “I really did forgive him, even before I knew it wasn’t really Isobel. I forgave him. I thought he knew that. I thought I told him that? I did, didn’t I? I don’t know, I’m not as good at putting my feelings into words as he is, you know?”

“Heh,” Michael scoffs. “I feel like that’s all you do with me. Every time we’re in this bunker you’re going on and on about your feelings.”

Liz is too wound up to even be insulted. “I know! It’s weird. Why can I say all this stuff to you, when half of it I never said to him? I never even told him I loved him before he died, did you know that?” She doesn’t pause to hear his answer. “He told me of course. Dozens of times. Told me he loved me his entire life right after I accused him of killing my sister. It’s like these things just spill out of him, you know? It seems to come so easily to him, but for me it can be a lot.” At Michael’s furrowed brow she adds, “It’s wonderful, it is, but sometimes it’s overwhelming. He’s a goddamn poet, and he just spews these pretty speeches that are so honest, and beautiful, and raw. Like a punch to the gut sometimes, and I… I don’t always know what to do with them. I can’t always respond in the moment. I need time to fight that instinct to run that’s always there right under the surface. I need a minute to regroup and actually evaluate how I feel before I can tell him. Because I do love him, I think I loved him the whole damn time, and I tried to show him, even before I could tell him, but I obviously didn’t do a good enough job.”

Her words are coming fast now, and she’s sure she’s barely coherent, but she can’t stop. “He didn’t feel how much I loved him and he didn’t believe I forgave him, and because of that I lost him. I’m so goddamn grateful to have Rosa back, but how could he not know that anything that would heal in me would be torn apart if I’d lost him for good? How could he possibly think I’d want him to sacrifice himself? And then for him to look me in the eye, mere hours after I got him back, and say he’d do it again! How am I supposed to live with that? I can’t lose him again, I won’t survive it. But I can’t seem to make him understand how much he’d be hurting me if he sacrificed himself. So I need to make something… a serum, anything, that won’t allow him to drain his life force like that again. So that I have time. To find the right words. To make him understand.”

A tentative hand on her shoulder finally pulls her out of the spiral and cuts off her torrent of words. Michael lets out a surprised grunt when she turns into his touch and buries her face in his shoulder and sobs. After a moment she feels Michael’s hand in her hair, moving in comforting, even strokes. In a moment the adrenaline that’s been propelling her since she snuck out of Max’s bed at 1 am dissipates, leaving in its place only exhaustion, causing her to sink further into Michael’s grip. He senses her fatigue and leads her over to a low table in the corner. Liz sits and leans heavily on Michael, exhausted now, both from lack of sleep last night and stress.

“Careful. It was one thing for us to cuddle like this when Max was in the pod, but we’ve established that Max isn’t always rational when it comes to you. Wouldn’t want him to bust in here and punch me out in a jealous rage.” Liz chokes out a laugh at the idea of anyone mistaking their bromance for something romantic. Michael continues, adopting a more earnest tone. “But seriously. I know being in love with a stubborn, self-sacrificing, idiot who thinks he knows how best to protect you is a tough road, but from everything you’ve told me, it sounds like it’s one your stuck with.” Incapable of being serious for too long, Michael adds, “If you’re not planning to ditch him for me that is.”

“Hmm, yeah that seems like a level of drama I’m not remotely interested in. Even if I was capable as seeing you as anything other than an annoying little brother.” Liz retorts, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“As I am constantly telling Isobel, WE ARE THE SAME AGE!” Michael exclaims, as he knocks her hand away. “And since I seem to be always in the position of comforting you and am about to offer you some sage advice, I should at least be considered an annoying older brother.” There’s a note of sarcasm in his tone, but behind it she senses a softness, like he’s touched that she’d refer to him as family even in jest.

“You are going to offer me sage advice?”

“Yup. It’s going to be groundbreaking and ingenious.” Liz gestures for him to continue, trying to keep the look of doubt off her face.

“Ok, here it goes…. You should talk to him.”

“That’s it? That’s your brilliant advice? I should talk to him? I’ve tried! Clearly I haven’t done a good enough job if he still doesn’t understand that him dying for me wouldn’t be doing me any favors!”

“Make him understand. Try talking to him in his language, read some poetry about how your soul fits with his or some shit. Or just ramble at him like you did at me just now.” Michael sighs heavily, before speaking again. “Though I am loathe to admit it, Max and I do have some similarities, and our tendency to act rashly to protect the people we love is one of them.” A flash of indecision crosses Michael’s face, but after another deep breath he forges on. “Just before Max died, I nearly got myself killed. The only thing that saved me was being forced to confront that me dying would hurt and even endanger someone that I lo-...cared about. I’ve been on the other side too, of having someone put themselves in danger for me, and I know that helplessness and fear can eat away at you.”

Liz can tell from the set of his jaw that Michael has provided exactly as many details as he intends to share, so even though curiosity burns through her, she doesn’t bother asking for further explanation, but rather waits patiently for him to continue.

“I didn’t have the opportunity to make them see that protecting me wasn’t worth it if they put themselves at risk. But you do. You can make Max understand how much it would hurt you, for him to risk himself. Hurting you is the last thing he wants. So yeah, my profound piece of wisdom is to talk to him. Better that than fucking around with an alien muting serum that might kill us all.” He tosses a smile her way at the last part, but she knows he’s covering some real fear. He consented to help with experiments first to save Isobel and then Max, but the ingrained fear of experimentation and dissection has never left him. She imagines it’s only gotten worse since Caufield. Michael hasn’t shared any details, but Kyle gave her a basic outline, with a haunted look she hoped to never see on his face again. After a moment of hesitation, Liz sweeps her slides off the table into the trash. The look of total relief that crosses Michael’s face removes any remaining doubt that she made the right call.

“I was doubtful at first, but that actually was pretty good advice. I think I’ll take it.” She leans up and presses a kiss on his cheek, before making her way over to the ladder to exit the bunker. Michael acquiesces to her silent request, and shifts the airstream and opens the manhole cover to allow her to exit. As she climbs up towards the light, she can’t resist tossing over her shoulder, “Sorry, though, despite your infinite wisdom, you still seem like a little brother to me!”

It’s unseasonably warm for early March, the temperature reaching the mid-sixties for the first time and she’s determined to enjoy it. Liz reclines on the blanket she and Rosa dragged up to the roof of the Crashdown, as Rosa starts on painting the big toe or her second foot with a new color of nail polish. Luckily close toed shoes are required in the lab of her new job, otherwise she’d look like a lunatic with toenails painted three different colors. Alanis Morisette’s “You’ll Learn” that’s been crooning through the small Bluetooth speakers Liz bought Rosa for her first birthday since coming back is interrupted by Liz’s blaring ringtone. She quickly ignores the call without looking. Today is for her and Rosa to reconnect.

She’s barely seen Rosa since Max was resurrected a week ago, and though her sister assures her she doesn't need constant babysitting, Liz still feels guilty ignoring her sister in favor of a boy. But today Max and Isobel are spending the day with their parents. In part because Max missed them, but mostly so Isobel can influence them in believing that Max spent the last three months searching for Noah to make him sign divorce papers from Isobel. It’s the cover story they finally settled on, though Liz privately found Michael’s suggestion that they tell everyone that Max had been Eat, Pray, Loving his way around Europe trying to write a novel to be pretty funny. In the end, this fell in line with the story Isobel told her parents and everyone else that Noah had been under investigation by the SEC for embezzling money and gone on the run, leaving her behind. Isobel was the one who pointed out that their parents would never believe that Max would abandon her while she was heartbroken over her husband’s betrayal.

Though she tried to cover it, Liz caught the bitterness in her tone, suggesting that, regardless of what she might tell Max, she still feels that’s exactly what he did. Sometimes Liz feels like during the time Max was gone and in the week since his resurrection she’s been letting everyone down. She knows she can get single-minded when working on something, and it not only prevented her from being as present for Rosa as she should’ve, but also kept her from being there for Isobel, and god, she’s barely seen Maria in weeks. She sends up a silent thanks for Kyle and Alex, who have stepped in where she failed. Kyle taking his new brotherly role seriously and helping Rosa with anything she needs, and Alex, the only person she knows who could unflinchingly face Isobel’s prickly snark. He’s helped her channel her rage into self defense classes, which Liz privately believes is the only reason Isobel didn’t blow out all the glass within a 10 mile radius of Roswell in the weeks after their first failed attempt to bring Max back.

Liz tries to shake off the guilt. Her berating herself for the past won’t help anyone, and instead she knows she should focus on the future. Now that Max is back, and some semblance of normal has returned to their lives, she can refocus on her sister and her other friends. She’s just about to ask Rosa what she wants to do for dinner tonight, when the music is again interrupted by the harsh sound of her ringtone. She sighs and checks the Caller ID to see Maria’s smiling face flash across the screen. Liz frowns. She’d invited Maria to come hang out with her and Rosa today, but she’d begged off, explaining that the bar was short-handed right now, and she had to work open to close.

Liz pauses the music and answers the phone on speaker. “Thank God, Liz.” The worry in Maria’s voice is evident even over the loud din of the Saturday afternoon crowd at the Pony. “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re spending the day with Rosa, but I can’t get anyone else. Max and Isobel both have their phones off. I even called Kyle first but he’s at the hospital until 4.” Liz’s heart starts pounding, wondering what could be wrong now. She’d been so hopeful that they could go just a few days without an emergency. “I need you to come get Michael. He’s drunk.”

Liz lets out a relieved sigh. It’s not great, but on the new scale she’s developed for levels of crises, this barely registers. “Ok… That’s not exactly unusual. I mean he’s been a lot better recently, but maybe he’s just blowing off some steam. Can’t he just sleep it off in your apartment upstairs?”

“No, this is different Liz. He’s a mess. I tried to get him to go sleep it off, but I think he just kept drinking upstairs before wandering back down here. He’s sloppy and I can tell he’s spoiling for a fight.” Maria’s voice is tight with irritation. “I haven’t seen him like this since right after Max… you know.”

Yeah, Liz does know. The first week after Max died, Michael, Isobel, and Liz all grieved in their own ways. Liz with endless tears and a laser-like focus on finding a way to bring Max back. Isobel with rage and exploding everything within range of her new telekinesis. And Michael grieved by falling back into old habits, drinking and getting into fights at the Wild Pony. They were all enough of a mess that it necessitated finally letting Maria in on the secret, if only for reinforcement from someone who wasn’t completely traumatized. But eventually Michael had pulled himself together. He’d helped Liz with the serum, cut back on his alcohol consumption, and even managed not to completely sabotage his burgeoning relationship with Maria, though Liz realizes she really doesn’t have much of a clue about how that’s been going. Despite all her time spent with Michael, it’s not something they’ve talked about at all. She might not know much, but one thing seems evident now: if she doesn’t do something, Michael’s likely to wake up in a jail cell and single.

She looks regretfully at Rosa for a minute before sighing resignedly. “Do you need me to come get him out of there?”

The answer comes immediately. “Yes. I really am sorry, Liz. I know you were gonna spend the day with Rosa, but with us understaffed here and being up half the night because my mom somehow managed to walk out of the nursing home for a little nighttime stroll again, I just really don’t have the capacity to deal with another person in my life who rambles incoherently and has a penchant for attracting trouble.”

Liz’s heart twists painfully. Maria is always such a calming and supportive presence it’s easy for her to forget how much Maria has on her own plate. “Of course, babe. I’ll be there in 10 to take him off your hands.”

She turns to Rosa with an apology in her eyes, but Rosa waves her off. “Go, go, manita. I heard. Drunken alien in crisis. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m guessing you don’t want to come?” Rosa’s still a little wary around any of the aliens, though for the past week she’s put up with Max for Liz’s sake.

“Hmm, pass. I’ve experienced enough drunken spirals myself. No need to bear witness to someone else’s. I’ve got my art supplies up here. Maybe I’ll update some of my graffiti for old times sake. I’m feeling all nostalgic today. Now get out of here.” Rosa gives Liz a playful shove, and Liz reluctantly makes her way inside.

When she enters the Pony eight minutes later, she catches sight of of Michael immediately. He’s slumped over the bar staring at Maria beseechingly, while Maria shakes her head and yanks the bottle he’d likely stolen from behind the bar out of his hand. Her exasperation transitions to relief when Maria’s gaze falls on Liz as she makes her way over to the bar. “Tag, you’re it,” Maria greets her with a tired half-smile. Liz slides into the chair next to Michael, drawing his attention for the first time.

“Liz,” Michael slurs, “here to have a drink with me?”

“Nope, here to drag your ass out of here before Maria runs out of patience.” Michael’s gaze flickers from Liz’s face to Maria’s and back again. Whatever he sees there seems to convince him that leaving without a fight is his best option. Maybe he can tell that Maria truly is at the end of her rope.

“Fine,” he acquiesces, “I’ve got booze at home too.” Liz has no intention of letting him get drunker, but her mission now is to get him out of the Pony, so she says nothing as she drags him out the door. She snags his keys from his pocket and leads him to his truck, figuring she can get Rosa to pick her up later and bring her back to her car if need be. Michael is strangely compliant about getting in the truck, barely even reacting when Liz insists he buckle his seatbelt before she’ll start driving. He’s quiet on the drive over, leaning his head on the window and staring off into space. Liz hopes he’ll pass out quickly when she gets him back to the Airstream. They can talk tomorrow about whatever motivated this round of day drinking.

Unfortunately, when they pull into the junkyard he seems to reanimate and he’s out of the truck and pushing the Airstream out of the way with his mind before she’s even parked. He’s halfway down the ladder into the bunker by the time she climbs out of the truck herself, and she has no choice but to follow him down, wondering if he’s making a beeline for an acetone stash down there. But when she follows him down the ladder she doesn’t find him guzzling acetone or even booze, rather she sees for the first time what he so carefully protected under the cover on the far table. It’s clearly alien in nature, as it has an otherworldly glow. Best she can figure it’s some kind of alien electronic or vehicle. She can’t quite tell, but it’s obviously important enough for Michael to have kept hidden.

Liz watches him pull a large shard of purple glass, and float it towards the rest. She gasps in awe as it knits itself together with the other pieces. The object looks like it may be complete now. She expects to see triumph on Michael’s face. He’s obviously been building this for years, and putting in the last piece should bring him satisfaction, but if anything, he looks bereft. He stares for a long moment before tugging the cover back over the object and sinking onto one of the cots they’d eventually set up in the bunker after falling asleep with their heads bent over a table one too many times when working to bring Max back. She sits down next to him, waiting for him to say something.

After a moment, he obliges. “Well, now you know my big secret, I guess.”

“I mean...not really. What is it?”

“I think it’s the console from the ship. If I attach it to a vehicle, I might be able to find our home planet.”

Liz gapes at him silently for a moment, taking in the meaning of his words. “You’re trying to leave the planet?” Her voice cracks as she imagines Roswell without Michael here. In the past six months he’s become such an important person to her. The only one who understands how focused she can gets into a project in the lab. The only one who craves answers with the same intensity she does. And weirdly, the easiest person to talk to about whatever chaotic feelings are swirling through her at any given moment. She doesn’t know how to verbalize that to him, and he doesn’t seem open to hearing it, as his face is closed off when she looks back at him.

“Yeah, so? People leave. You left.” His tone is sharply accusatory, which puts her on the defensive.

“Right, and who influenced me into doing that?”

“Bullshit. You told Max you were glad Isobel made you leave. And Isobel can’t influence someone into doing something they don’t want to do in the first place. You told me once that you loved Max the whole time. Since we were 17. If that were really true, how could you want to leave him?”

The stark pain in his face softens her initial pique at being called out. She considers how to answer him honestly. It’s not something she’s ever tried to put into words before. “I do believe I loved Max, even at 17. And if Rosa hadn’t died, maybe I would’ve been with him then. Maybe we’d have gone on that road trip, and figured out how to be in the same place the next year. But maybe not. I’ll never know who I would’ve been if Rosa hadn’t died. But losing her, it forced me to acknowledge that I didn’t know who I was without her. Since I was young, what I did, who I was, was shaped by either trying to be like her, or trying to be the opposite of her, depending on the trait. Without her, there was emptiness. I didn’t have a foil. She was the sun, to my moon, without her, I was only darkness. When she died, I wasn’t sure which of two instincts to follow. The instinct I’ve always had to run, a not so favorable trait I might’ve gotten from my mom, and the instinct to hide. Maybe if Isobel hadn’t influenced me, I would’ve chosen to hide in Max. Maybe I would’ve clung to him to try to replace what I’ve lost. But if I did that, I don’t think it would’ve worked out in the long run.”

She pauses to think about how to make him understand how she can be both glad to have had the experiences she had the ten years away, and sad or regretful that she’d left Max behind to do so. “When I say I wanted to leave, and that in some ways I’m glad I did, it’s because it forced me to figure out how to be strong. How to be independent, and make my own way through the world, without being so scared of being imperfect. I may have swayed too far in the other direction, cutting myself off and not letting myself be close to anyone, but it did turn me into a person that could come back here, and after some trial and error, eventually accept Max’s love on my own terms, easily, not as an escape, but as a choice. And maybe there could’ve been a better way. A way to do both, find my strength without leaving. But I was a scared 17 year old, who had just been through a major trauma, and I did the best I could. Max told me once that since my mom left and I lost Rosa, it's easy to understand why I always try to leave before I can be left. And I think that’s true. But we’ve made our way back to each other, and though sometimes I still have the instinct to run, he supports me in fighting it. I told him if I ever lose the battle and run away, I want him to follow me. I know I hurt him in the past, but we love each other. And we are making the decision to be together, despite all the mistakes we’ve both made in the past. And that has to be enough.”

Michael just nods at her, which she takes to mean he’s found her answer acceptable. After all this time, she’s come to accept that their conversations will always be relatively lopsided. Her rambling on about whatever comes into his head, him asking vague, inscrutable questions that hint at a deeper meaning, and never offering an explanation. He surprises her by stretching out on the cot and dropping his head in her lap. They do have a tactile friendship, she supposes, though he has only initiated contact in the past as a means of comfort during the embarrassing number of times she broke down about Max in this very bunker. Perhaps it’s his lowered inhibitions due to the alcohol, or the trust she likes to think they’ve built that lets him feel comfortable enough in this moment to seek comfort for himself.

Unsure if it will be welcome, but wanting to reciprocate the gesture, she cards her fingers through his hair. He leans into her touch like a cat, so she guesses he’s ok with it. She continues stroking his hair, wondering if he will ever respond, or just drift off. After a few minutes, he speaks up so quietly she’s not sure at first if he means to be talking out loud, “I guess I understand why you’d be tempted to leave before getting left. If I could’ve, I might have done the same. Getting left sucks.” Liz knows abandonment was an all too common theme in Michael’s life. She understands why having a project where he could imagine a way home might sustain him. But now that they know that home is a war torn planet, the idea of him risking everything to go where there might be nothing waiting for him is unbearably sad.

“Yeah it does. But sometimes people come back. Please don’t go anywhere where you might not be able to. What would Max, Isobel, and I do without you?” She thinks about including Maria in this list, but with the exasperation she just witnessed, and the fact that Michael has never mentioned their relationship to her, but hasn’t exactly been the voice of optimism when he talks about love, she doesn’t know if including her would hurt or help the situation.

“You’d have each other. After a while, you wouldn’t even notice I was gone.”

Liz shook her head vigorously. She first thinks about cracking a joke, but Michael has a vulnerability on his face she’s never seen before, so she opts for the truth. “Yes, we would. Max and Isobel are your family, Michael, They love you. I know you and Max have trouble actually talking to each other, but he talks to me. He tells me how grateful he is to you for helping bring him back, how much he cares about you, how he wishes he could fix things between you. And you are family to me, too. I would not have made it through the months when Max was gone without you. I would have just wallowed in my grief. You listened to me, you held me when I cried, and your brilliant mind made it possible to bring Max back. Michael, there are people that need you here, including me, ok?”

Liz thinks her words have sunk into at least a little, as Michael’s eyes look a little wet. He rolls over so he’s facing away from her, but doesn’t move his head from her lap. He sighs, “It was a childish pipe dream anyways. Don’t worry, Ortecho, I won’t leave you here. Besides, what happens the next time a serum cure is needed? You can’t be trusted alone not to accidentally poison someone, so I guess I’ve got to stick around.” It’s practically a declaration of friendship coming from Michael, so she ignores the dig, and continues stroking Michael’s hair as he burrows closer to her.

She decides to take a risk and ask, “So, do you want to tell me what made you decide to go on a bender today?”

“What, I need a reason to go on a bender? Isn’t this just par for the course for me: a drunken criminal?”

“No, Michael, it is not. Not usually. Except when something really upsets you. You always listen to me ramble, so why don’t you let me return the favor for once?”

“Nothing new. Just got reminded of what it feels like to get left behind, and it fucked with me for a minute. I’ll be fine tomorrow. Just a bad day, ok? Don’t wanna talk about it.” His eyes flicker closed and his breath slows. Liz decides to leave it alone for the day and let him sleep for a bit. She closes her eyes too and drifts off, leaning her head back against the wall.

Pain in her legs wakes her, and she realizes she must’ve fallen asleep. Michael appears to still be resting peacefully, though she realizes belatedly that she forgot to make him drink water so he’s sure to have a hell of a hangover the next day. She checks her phone and sees it’s nearly 7 pm. She hates to leave Michael here, knowing the cot is not comfortable, and he’ll likely feel like crap when he wakes up. She shakes him, but he doesn’t so much as stir. She can’t get him up the ladder without help, and Max and Isobel have planned to stay at their parent’s house tonight to make sure the influencing was successful. Maria’s still working, and she doesn’t think calling her would exactly help their potentially floundering relationship. She realizes Kyle is off work now, so he’s probably her best option. Guerin may hate him, but he’s not conscious enough to object, so he can deal. She slides Michael’s head off her lap and onto a pillow and climbs out of the bunker, thankful Michael was too drunk to remember to move the Airstream back over the entrance. She walks towards the entrance until she has a good signal.

Kyle answers after three rings, “What’s up, Liz?” She hears the sound of Kyle’s footsteps followed by a door closing. She wonders if she interrupted a date. Kyle obviously wouldn’t want a girl he’s seeing to overhear him talking to an ex-girlfriend, but he’s too conscientious and primed for a crisis to ignore her call even when he should. She thinks about telling him to forget it, but she really doesn’t want to leave Michael in the bunker for the night. If Kyle says no, she’ll figure something else out.

“I was hoping for your help with a little situation I’ve got going on.”

“Is Rosa ok?” Kyle asks immediately. Once she reassures him, his tone lightens, and he quips, “In that case, I’m gonna need a few details, Ortecho. With you it could be literally anything.”

“So, Michael was a bit over-served, and is passed out in his bunker. I’m not quite buff enough to move him to his bed. Any chance you’re free to help?” She’s not above a bribe, so she adds, “There are free fries in it for you if you do.”

“To help Guerin? Yeah, not today, Liz.” Liz is surprised to hear a bite to his tone. She’d always been under the impression that the animosity was one-sided. Kyle is usually tolerant of Michael’s antics and seemed to brush off his constant snarking in the past, so this attitude is new. She hears a heavy sigh, and when Kyle speaks again, he sounds more like himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. But I really can’t help. I’m a little tied up out here at the cabin with Alex. He’s also been a little...over-served as well. Today’s a tough day for him, two years since the explosion that took his leg, and then he and Guerin got into it this morning.I don’t know all the details, but suffice to say, it wasn’t good, as it seems to have led them both to the bottom of a bottle. So I’m not exactly feeling charitable towards Michael right now. But if you really can’t find anyone else, I can swing by once I get Alex settled, but I’m not sure when that’ll be. Sorry.”

Liz isn’t sure she even says goodbye before she hangs up the phone. She’s rooted to the spot as she replays every conversation she and Michael have had over the past months and starts to see them in a new light. Fuck. It’s always about Alex with Michael. She doesn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before. She’d known from Maria that they’d had something in high school, but from Maria’s description it had seemed like it might’ve mostly one-sided, or maybe that’s what Maria wanted to believe.

After Michael and Maria started doing whatever it is they are doing, she’d checked in with Alex once, but he’d refused to give any details and waved off her concern. And she’d let him. There had been so many other things to focus on that she honestly hadn’t wanted to get wrapped up in any love triangle nonsense between three of her closest friends. Maybe that’s how she let every seemingly obvious clue pass her by. It’s now abundantly clear that every time Michael talks about love it’s Alex he’s thinking of. And if Maria’s reading of him a few months ago was accurate, and her readings usually are, then Alex is in love with Michael too. Fuck. She doesn’t entirely blame Michael for trying to move forward with Maria. It’s obvious he and Alex have had their share of pain. Something that made him feel like love was the worst thing that happened to him. And with so much other trauma piled on, she gets why he might try for something else, something, what did he say months ago? something easy and safe. But it seems clear that won’t work for him in the long run any more than it would work for her. And it seems inevitable that in addition to complicating all of her friendships, it has the potential to break Maria’s heart. Fuck.

Her pragmatism returns, and she acknowledges there's nothing she can do today to halt this impending trainwreck. She returns to the bunker, and shakes Michael awake roughly, feeling somewhat less charitable than she had earlier. With her help he’s able to make it up the ladder, into his Airstream and into bed. Her better angels do eventually prevail and she entreats him to drink water before sleeping and even places some water and a small bottle of acetone next to his bed for when he awakes, before calling Rosa to pick her up. Tonight she wants to have dinner with her sister. Untangling the complex love lives of her friends can wait for another day.

“You here to yell at me?”

“For leaving the door to your secret lair exposed? No. You’re the one who has a stick up their ass about that.” She lowers herself down the last rung of the ladder and flashes Michael a sad smile. “Or for breaking up with Maria last night? Also no.” A look of relief flashes across his face. Despite her telling him on many occasions that she considers him family, she can tell Michael thought ending his relationship with Maria might cost him her friendship.

“I thought you’d be with her now. Drinking tequila and bitching about what an asshole I am. Isn’t that what girls do?”

“Well I was there,” Liz admits. “And full disclosure, I may have had more than a little tequila.” At his worried look, she adds, “Don’t worry, your brother dropped me here and will pick me up. He’s on patrol tonight, but it’s been slow. Anyways, I was there and so was Isobel for some reason, and after a bit Isobel declared that me and my ‘stupidly coupled-up face’ were no longer welcome there.” Michael arches an eyebrow in disbelief and Liz raises her hand, indicating her own bewilderment. “I know. It was a little surprising coming from her, but she’d had even more tequila than I had, so she was a little less poised than usual. Anyway, she said the rest of the party was only for the recently dumped or widowed, and Maria seemed to be finding Isobel’s antics amusing, so I left. I figured with Max on duty and Isobel with Maria, that maybe you could use a friend.” Liz hopes there will come a time when Michael doesn’t look so astonished at someone caring about him.

Liz leans against the table facing him and asks gently, “You want to tell me what went wrong? Everything seemed fine at dinner last night.” In truth, the double date had been painfully awkward, at least for her. In the week since she’d put Michael to bed after his Alex-inspired day drinking, she’d wrestled with what to do. It felt like she might be the only person with all the relevant information, but wasn’t sure how much interfering, if any, was appropriate. There didn’t seem to be a solution that wouldn’t end in broken friendships and broken hearts, so she’d done nothing. When Max, in an effort to normalize things and improve his relationship with his brother had arranged a double date with Michael and Maria, she’d nearly forced him to cancel, unsure of how she could sit across the table from them, knowing that Maria wasn’t who Michael thought about when he talked about love. But in the end she’d gone, and it had been largely uneventful. Still, she can’t pretend she wasn’t a little relieved when Maria called her this morning and told her Michael had broken up with her a few hours after their date. It took the decision out of her hand, and though Maria was sad, she didn’t seem destroyed. More wistful that the potential she thought was there never really came to fruition and regretful that the relationship had strained her friendship with Alex, who she admitted was unfailingly polite to her these days but couldn’t look her directly in the eye. Liz privately thought it was likely to get worse before it got better, but she still had hope that one day in the future they’d all be friends again like when they were younger.

“It was,” Michael finally speaks. “Fine, I mean. It always was, with the exception of the few times I got obnoxiously drunk. Happy sometimes, comfortable, safe.” After a long moment he lets out a breath like he always does before venturing into topics that make him feel vulnerable. “But seeing you and Max together last night, remembering all the things you’ve said about the way you’ve worked through your shit, and how you feel when you’re with him… well I had to face a fact I’ve been avoiding for a while. As much as I adore Maria, and god, I really do...” The sincerity shines through on his face, and the small amount of anger she’d been carrying on her way over here dissipates entirely. “Despite that, safe and comfortable isn’t what I want. Just like you said to me when we were trying to bring Max back, when you’ve had something that feels fated,” he smiles ruefully, “something cosmic. Well, safe and comfortable just isn’t enough.” His smile fades and his mood turns dark. “I’m just sorry I hurt Maria in figuring that out.”

Liz pats his arm reassuringly. “It wasn’t great. But I do think she’ll get past it eventually.” Liz considers for a moment, before deciding she has to ask. They can’t keep talking around it forever. “So are we gonna talk about Alex, now or what?”

Off Michael’s surprised look, Liz continues, “I mean, he is who you mean when you talk about fated and cosmic, right?”

Michael looks guilty and a little embarrassed at the same time. “You know about that, huh? From Alex?” Liz shakes her head. “Figures. Maria then? I guess girls do talk.”

“Are you upset? Did you not want me to know?”

Michael looks conflicted, like he’s not quite sure how to answer. “I’ve never really cared if people knew, that was more Alex’s thing than mine. I just wish...I don’t know...I wish I had some control over it. That I got to tell people on my own terms. Not about Alex, even, but about me, I guess. Maybe it’s dumb, it shouldn’t matter, I’m not ashamed of it. But Max apparently knew for years and never even said anything until I made him angry enough to snap. I still don’t know for sure how Maria found out, and then with you, at first I assumed you knew: that Alex or Maria had told you, but you never said anything, so.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. it’s water under the bridge now.”

“No, Michael. It’s not dumb, you’re right. I’m sorry for how everything happened, and I’m sorry for being so wrapped up in everything else that I didn’t try to talk to you about it until now.” Maybe it’s because she’s never had to think about it, but it hadn’t even occurred to her until this moment that Maria had essentially outed Michael to her, and it sounds like it wasn’t the first time that happened to him. She knew it wasn’t malicious, neither she nor Maria had an issue with bisexuality, and had been focused only on the issues raised by the fact that it was Alex, but of course there were added layers. Alex always played things close to the chest, even as a kid, so she hadn’t thought too hard about why he didn’t share details about his high school crush or subsequent relationships. But she realizes now that it wasn’t just Alex being private, it’s that it wasn’t his decision to make. Sharing details could always mean outing someone. And given that Alex hadn’t ever really had a choice about coming out himself, since by the time high school rolled around, he was in a glass closet at best, he would be particularly sensitive about outing someone else. With the choice taken away from Michael, she thinks he at least deserves not to have some details. “Just so you don’t have to wonder, my understanding is that Maria did find out from Alex, but he didn’t actually tell her. You know how she is, she read him the day after we got back from Texas. It’s pretty hard to lie to a psychic. Maria confided in me later when she was trying to work out her feelings. I know it doesn’t make it ok, but she was really just trying to give me context.”

Michael shrugs. “Like I said, it is what it is. I’m not angry that you know.”

“So, do you want to talk about it? I know you had something in high school, but I thought that was all it was until recently. When I put together a few things about the conversations we’ve had. It sounds like it was or maybe is a lot more than that.”

Another long breath escapes Michael before he says anything else. “Yeah… it’s kind of everything.”

Like so many times before, Michael’s simple truth catch her off guard. She collects herself enough to ask, “So, what’s keeping you apart? I may not know the details, but you certainly haven’t sounded particularly optimistic about love, and Kyle mentioned you and Alex got into it last week just before your epic day drinking disaster.”

Michael shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere other than at her. “There are a lot of things between us. We’ve been through some pretty awful stuff. We had amazing moments too, but the trauma cast a pretty big shadow. He’s a little skittish, I’m a little defensive, he walks away, I feel abandoned. It’s a whole thing. After everything that happened this fall and winter, it seemed like time for us to stop banging our heads against the wall. I thought I needed something new. Something different.”

“But you don’t think that anymore?” Liz prods.

“Don’t let it go to your head or anything, but you rambling on about Max made me see a few things in a different light. Last week, well, Alex gave me that last piece of the console I showed you. I guess he’d had it for a while but hadn’t given it to me because he, I don’t know, he said he wasn’t ready for me to leave or something. And in the moment I was pissed. Because he kept leaving me, but I couldn’t leave him? That’s not fair. So I lashed out, like I do, and he told me we could talk another day, but that it was two years since he’d nearly died and he wasn’t in the mood to be a punching bag and left. I just started thinking about everything. About what it felt like when he left for the Air Force for the first time, and what it would’ve felt like if he hadn’t ever come home. It was shitty and I didn’t know what else to do so I got drunk. Fell back into old coping mechanisms ‘cause that’s what I do when it gets to be too much, even though I’ve been trying to break that habit, I slip up sometimes.”

He pauses for a breath, but surprisingly continues talking. “The next day, and every day since, it just made me think, like, Alex does the same thing sometimes. When he gets overwhelmed, he falls back into old coping mechanisms too. He walks away. That’s why I felt like if we tried again, we’d just be repeating old patterns, but I realized Alex was, in his own way trying to break that habit. He just...well, he’s like you in some ways. He needs a minute to catch up, to process, and I don’t always give that to him. I expect him to show he cares like I do, and that’s not him. But lately he was trying to stop walking away, to use his words a little more, and yeah, he slipped up sometimes this year, but he did keep coming back. I wasn’t in the place to see it before, but I do now. And then I thought about you, and how you are doing the same thing, working not to run when you get overwhelmed, and how Max is helping you, and how you’d want him to come after you if you did regress. I thought about how you worked through past trauma and forgave each other, and how you want each other, even when it’s hard. And I realized that I want to do that too, to put in the work. When he told me he was giving me that piece of the ship so I could leave if I wanted, move on, be happy, I realized I don’t want to. I don’t want to try to go home. Because besides that brief moment with my mom, Alex is the only one that has ever made me feel like I’m home. And moving on didn’t work, even with someone I adore and care about as much as Maria, because I don’t want to move on. Because...well fuck, because I love him.”

He finally looks up at her, a little sheepish. “And well that’s the most words I’ve ever said at one time. I think I’m turning into you, now. Rambling about my feelings. You’re a bad influence, Ortecho.”

She laughs, warmth and love for him flooding through her. He’s been through so much, and he and Alex both deserve the chance to try to work through things. “Well, you know what you have to do now, right?”

The look he shoots her indicates that he thinks she might’ve gone mad. “What about anything I just said indicates to you that I have any earthly idea about what I should do now? Everything’s a disaster. Alex thinks I’ve moved on. Maria, the only person that really put up with me for the last ten years before you came back to town, probably hates me now. I’m well and truly fucked…why the hell are you smiling?”

“Well, see, one time when I was spiraling, kind of like you are right now, a literal genius, as he likes to remind me he is, gave me some sage and brilliant advice that I think might work for you now.” She can tell by Michael’s rolling eyes that he knows where she’s going with this. “Yup, that’s right...it’s coming back to bite you in the ass. You should talk to him. What did you say to me? ‘Just ramble at him like you just did to me?’ That should work. And I mean that literally: tell Alex what you just told me, in the same way. No vague, but dramatic metaphors. Tell him, and if he gets overwhelmed and leaves? Give him a day and then go after him. But I don’t think he will. And in time, who knows, the whole talking thing might go a long way with making things right with Maria, too.”

Michael just makes a humming sound, which could mean agreement or just that he’s done talking for the day, but that’s alright. She knows now that even when it seems like he’s not listening, he thinks about the things she says. Liz has faith that eventually he’ll take the advice and untangle this mess.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Liz can’t stop herself from laughing out loud at Max’s nervousness.

“Yes. I want to tell him now and you know his phone doesn’t work down there. Besides, he might get pissed at you for going busting in unannounced, but he actually likes me.” At the wounded look Max tries to cover, Liz regrets the joke. Max and Michael have made strides in their relationship in the two months since Max’s resurrection, but there are still some missteps and resentments to work through. Michael clearly does have a greater level of comfort around Liz than Max, so she really shouldn’t tease. She takes a softer, more serious tone, as she continues. “Come on, he’s going to be happy for us.” Max relents and uses his still relatively new telekinetic powers to slide the Airstream over, and open the manhole cover.

“Michael, you down there?” Max yells, rolling his eyes when he realizes Liz hasn’t waited for a reply and is already halfway down the ladder. But despite his reservations, he follows her lead.

She immediately notices when she reaches the ground that there have been some changes since the last time she was here over a month ago. The ship console remains, but is pushed over in the corner and a few of the tables have been removed to make room for an extensive computer setup, which Michael is currently standing in front of. As Michael whirls around, an irritated look on his face that softens slightly when he catches sight of her, she immediately recognizes the reason for the change, as Michael’s sudden movement reveals Alex lounging in the chair in front of the monitor set up. He gets up to greet her with a much friendlier smile.

“Ortecho, you’re abusing my open door privileges here. I never said you could bring guests down here.” Michael gestures to Max, who has now made his way to the ground as well. The harsh words are undercut by a teasing smile which Max returns.

Alex bumps Michael’s shoulder with his own. “I think what Michael meant to say, was ‘hey guys, how are you?’” Michael attempts to seem annoyed at Alex’s rephrasing, but can’t seem to look at Alex with anything other than adoration these days. They finally got their shit together a few weeks after she and Michael had the last of what she’s now calling their bunker confessionals. They’d even quietly been on a few dates around town, including at the Crashdown, and Liz had only barely stopped herself from squealing out loud when she saw them holding hands shyly under the table and looking at each other like there was no one else in the room.

“Sure, we’ll go with that. And also, what the hell are you guys doing here? Max, I’d thought since getting trapped here you wouldn’t really be eager to come back.”

“Eh, it wasn’t all bad,” Max responds sincerely. He’s told Liz that though they’ve had setbacks since, he feels getting stuck in this bunker had been a real breakthrough in their relationship. Michael seems to catch his meaning and gives him a half-smile. “Anyways, we have news to share and Iz said you were off the map, so we figured you might be down here.” Truthfully, Liz had wanted to tell Michael immediately, but Max convinced her that dealing with Isobel’s rage if she wasn’t the first to know wouldn’t have been worth it. Maria had been at Isobel’s that morning oddly, so they were able to tell them both at the same time. Afterwards, Liz insisted they come straight here.

“So, what was so important that you were willing to encourage Isobel’s unhealthy stalking tendencies? I know you hate that she tracks our phones almost as much as I do.”

“Well… Liz and I talked, and we decided--”

Liz rolls her eyes in fond exasperation. Max is long winded at the best of times, and she’s not sure he’s ever going to get to the point, so she jumps in, stretching her hand out for Michael and Alex to see the ring sparkling there. “We’re getting married!” She yelps a moment later as she feels herself being lifted off the ground in an exuberant hug.

When Michael finally puts her down, he gives Max a more reserved bro hug/back slap combo that she sees boys do with each other, and a sincere, “Congratulations.” And as she studies him over Alex’s shoulder, as he gives her a less exuberant, but just as heartfelt hug, she could even swear Michael’s eyes look a little wet, though she knows better than to comment on it. After Alex shakes Max’s hand, he comes to stand behind Michael, resting his chin on Michael’s shoulder as they talk wedding plans, and Michael lightly teases them both about how little say they’ll get in anything once Isobel takes over. The contentment that fills her in this moment feels almost surreal.

Liz thinks back to all the conversations she and Michael had in this very bunker, talking about love, and wondering if the pain, sacrifice, and worry would all be worth it. If they’d ever get a chance to be happy with the people they love. As she leans back into Max’s arms, and watches Michael press a kiss into Alex’s hair, she knows neither of them have to wonder anymore.

#brotp: science bros #michael guerin #liz ortecho #5+1 fic #malex fic #echo #maribel if you squint #roswell new mexico fic #my fic #soberqueerinthewild

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ohayohimawari · 4 years

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With Me Always - Milestone Drabble

Thank you for helping my blog reach another milestone! Thank you for following me here. I hope you enjoy the fanart that I reblog as well as my own creative endeavors.

I write these quiet, introspective pieces to acquaint myself with writing different characters and pairings. This is how I study and explore them, and I’m always happy to know that people enjoy reading them. I enjoy writing them. :)

This is also my 50th work on AO3! Milestones abound, haha!

I do not own these characters; I had a wonderful time exploring them.

With Me Always

Rated: T; no archive warnings apply

Pairings: KakaObi

WC: 1491

Summary: “Death strengthened the bond between Obito and Kakashi, not severed it.”

Read: AO3 or below the cut

With Me Always

Since he met Zetsu, Obito knew he wasn’t ever truly alone.

He’d witnessed enough of that creature’s omniscience to know that Zetsu had literally planted a piece of himself everywhere. Not even Kamui’s Dimension could offer Obito any privacy because of the pieces of Zetsu that he carried on himself. And whenever Kakashi discovered that shared space between them, it would become even more crowded.

Though for some time now, Obito had ceased to view him as an unwelcome intrusion.

Without knowing when it happened, Obito found himself frequenting the Konoha cemetery to visit his own grave rather than Rin’s. However, he was sure that it had everything to do with the official surviving member of Team Minato.

Kakashi’s self-loathing monologues angered Obito at first. It was compounded with the infuriating insult that Hatake sought friendship from a stone marker after refusing it from the person it honored. But what upset Obito the most was how empty he felt on the days when Kakashi didn’t visit the Memorial Stone at all.

It was Zetsu that pointed it out, of course, because true to Obito’s suspicions, he was always watched. As long as Zetsu didn’t bring it up, Obito didn’t question why he humored him.

Returning to Konoha was absolutely out of the question; Obito didn’t think he could walk freely around the village after unleashing the Nine-Tails upon it, although no one there knew of his transgression. Even if he could overcome his guilt and could somehow be forgiven, there was the problem of Zetsu.

However, Obito couldn’t keep himself away from the Leaf entirely. Just as he used to sit in the bushes outside of Kakashi’s home to watch him, he now sat in the bushes in the cemetery to do the same.

Watching Kakashi’s Will of Fire extinguish slowly both broke Obito’s heart and filled it with hope. No matter how much he swore his hatred for his former teammate, he hated to see him so used by Konoha even more.

In the darkness before dawn, when the moon and the sun were both hidden, it seemed the world around him held its breath, so Obito did too while he waited. In a few moments, he would either disappear, disappointed that there would be no visit, or linger longer in the shadows, closer to something like happiness. The familiar sound of sandals shuffling on the pavement interrupted the stillness, and Obito’s breath slipped silently through a relieved smile.

Kakashi’s appearance had altered again, and as much as Obito had despised the grey and black ANBU uniform, he thought the jōnin greens were infinitely worse. The vest hung off his shoulders, heavy, ill-fitting, and Hatake didn’t look comfortable in it at all.

Kakashi stood stiff, his arms limp, in a bout of silence that lasted longer than any other during his many, many visits to the Memorial Stone. Obito sat with his gaze fixed on his back, willing him to speak. Finally, he did.

“I’m supposed to be a sensei now.”

Obito bit his cheek to keep his snickers at bay. What was Lord Third playing at? How could he expect anyone to teach after they’d been chewed up and spit out by the Black Ops? Konoha must really be desperate if they put the task of molding their future shinobi on the shoulders of someone that wasn’t cut out for it.

“I’m not cut out for it, Obito.”

To think it, and to hear it admitted aloud were two different things, and it left Obito without snickers to stifle. The quiet that followed lasted long enough for pity to fester within him. Finally, Kakashi stirred again. He raised both hands to his face, and when they lowered again, they brought his mask and forehead protector down with them.

Then, he scoffed. “I don’t have the ability or patience to teach.” Kakashi glanced to the side before continuing in a hushed voice, “I have doubts that make me question whether or not I want to acquire either. I lack the will, Obito.”

Obito was sure he would’ve missed those words if he hadn’t wanted to hear them so badly. He crouched with every muscle tensed, his eyes focused on the forehead protector that looked ready to fall at any moment.

“How can I lead a team, of-of children…how can I be responsible for them when I couldn’t protect any of you—”

“Oh, would you shut up, Bakashi?”

It wasn’t the grand reveal that Obito had planned on, but he couldn’t keep his silence any longer. Kakashi had come so close to confessing contempt and dissonance for Konoha, that to hear him fall back on the same tired, old habit of blaming himself instead was too much. He was sure that Zetsu wouldn’t let this slide, so he decided to make the most of it and stood up from his hiding place.

Kakashi looked back at him over his shoulder, his face still bare and not surprised at all.

This unnerved Obito, and he felt twelve years old again when Hatake addressed him.

“You’ve gotten taller.”

“And you’ve gotten smaller,” he retorted, as their singular Sharingan eyes stared at each other. Obito blinked first. “I’ve been dead, and that’s how you greet me?”

“I talk to you almost every day; every day that I can come here anyway,” Kakashi still hadn’t blinked, hadn’t reached for a weapon, and hadn’t reached for him.

“You talk to a grave,” Obito accused.

“You think I like the sound of my own voice?” Kakashi tapped one finger on the scar that bisected his left eye. “It’s not my fault that you don’t answer.”

Obito felt his stomach drop and all of his anger with it. To think that someone, that Kakashi had an inkling that he was still alive filled him with a warmth that he’d forgotten could feel so sweet. “You knew?” He hated how vulnerable he sounded.

“You’re not as good as you think you are,” one corner of Kakashi’s mouth lifted in an attempt at smirking and then faltered. “And I’m not as good as others think I am.”

Obito walked toward him, closing the distance between them as his right eye searched Kakashi’s left.

“We share vision, Obito. I have glimpses at images that I can’t account for,” Kakashi turned to face him. “You’re with me everywhere I go, watching. I’m never alone. Even when I look in the mirror, you’re watching me.”

Obito stopped just before him, close enough to whisper. No words came to him as he realized that Kakashi was in the same predicament as himself. Whereas Obito loathed such an interference in his life, Kakashi spoke of it almost tenderly, as tenderly as someone like him could.

To be so utterly understood was profound.

“Every day, I hope that I won’t see something that will make you my enemy, Obito.”

So, Kakashi couldn’t see everything, leaving Obito with some secrets from him, at least. He hated it.

But if Obito could learn to understand and forgive Kakashi for Rin’s death, then perhaps Hatake could, in time, extend the same to him for Minato’s. “There is a way for us never to be enemies, Kakashi,” he whispered, exaggeratedly glancing around them to alert Kakashi that they might not be as alone as he thought.

Kakashi didn’t miss the cue, and Obito felt rather than saw him tense. This meant that their conversation would come to an end quicker than either of them wanted it to.

“You know I can’t do that, Obito,” Kakashi whispered. “Konoha needs me; I can’t leave it.”

“Why?” Obito struggled to keep his whispers hushed. “You know that it’s fatally flawed. This place is using you and using you up! Why are you so eager to volunteer yourself to defend it when you know—”

“It’s not the place; it’s the people within it, Obito.” Kakashi lifted one hand to Obito’s face, gingerly caressing the scars that marred it. “You taught me that.”

Obito regretted that lesson, proving that Kakashi wasn’t the only one that wasn’t cut out for teaching. As much as he wanted to argue, their time was running out, and Obito couldn’t stand the fact that Zetsu was watching Kakashi now, too.

Obito licked his lips, drew in a sharp breath between them, and pressed them to Kakashi’s.

Hatake accepted him more readily than he ever had before, his lips moving and parting, accommodating his. Obito was astounded that any part of Kakashi could be as soft as his lips were.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss; there was no urgency, no promise of fulfillment or gratification. It was a confession between them. An offering and acceptance, and Obito had never tasted anything so good.

He withdrew only when he had to breathe and rested his forehead against Kakashi’s. Their shared pair of Sharingan eyes met, memorizing, and reflecting the words that each man mouthed silently.

“Come with me.”

“Come home.”

The End

#hima writes #tumblr milestone #KakaObi #kkob #kakashi #obito #milestone drabble #naruto fanfiction #my fanfiction #Thank You

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

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Man and Wife Pt.02

The Wedding Day

04/07/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 5,611

*Masterpost in Notes Warnings: smut, language, unprotected sex, oral sex f-receiving

A/N: Part 2! I debated for like thirty minutes whether I wanted to make this a series or not and I decided yes after a few ideas popped into my head. I hope you all like it but I should warn you that without angst we cannot appreciate the good times. Just...a warning for you. If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“Are we crazy?” You wonder, gently stroking the soft lace of your white floor length satin gown.

“Maybe.” Bucky relents but reaches back to place his hand on the back of your neck. You sigh lightly, the relief of his cool metal hand against your heated skin is perfection. “Do you regret it?”

You meet his eyes, staring into the radiant blue pools as you consider his question. He doesn’t hold it against you that you take a few seconds to think about it.

Then again, he can also tell that you’re admiring his good looks. This perfect creature wants you. How is this possible?

“No.” You admit, the warmth of love flowing out from your chest to the rest of your body. “I don't.”

Bucky's smile brightens and his eyes sparkle again like they had when you’d agreed to marry him in the throes of passion.

“Me neither.” He whispers and you lean towards him. He rests his hand on the back of your chair and rushes forward to meet your lips with his in a soft but eager kiss.

The way he lunges towards you tells you that he's grateful for the physical reassurance. He’s excited for it. You’re not sure exactly why yet but over the past two weeks you’ve begun to understand that Bucky has been lonely.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No one’s ever kissed me so readily before.” He confesses as you settle in beside him on the plush red compound sofa.

In front of both of you, Steve and Sam are debating over the Green Berets and Full Metal Jacket. Movie night with a bunch of former soldiers? Of course it’s going to be a military movie!

Bucky wraps his right arm around your shoulders and places his hand along the top of your right bicep. He squeezes you into his side.

“You go around kissing girls all the time?” You tease.

“No.” Bucky smiles, amused with your joking. “But I’ve dated a bit since things kind of settled down for me and I don’t know, we just-”

“We fit.” You nod, grabbing the small fold of his t-shirt just over his abs. You tug it a few times gently.

“Yeah.” Bucky looks down at your lap, smiling with contentment before you reach over and pull his attention back up to your face by placing your right hand on his left cheek.

He meets your eyes but you’re already leaning in to kiss him and he happily returns your kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~

There are two stages of life for you. In your head they are called ‘Before I kissed Bucky’ and ‘After I kissed Bucky’ because you don’t know how you lived before you kissed him.

His lips are like an addiction. You haven’t slept with him since that first time in that secluded corner of the water park, but you and Bucky have been making out every chance you get.

It always starts the same. Just a small peck or the slow flutter of a semi-lingering smooch but it always ends the same, with you pinned against a wall or perched on his lap or laying beneath him as he kisses you senseless.

He kisses you until your lips are raw and puffed and you stop only because you’re both adults and you know you can’t spend the day making out.

Right now is no different.

You’d leaned in to simply seal your assurance that you think you and he have done the right thing but you’re already lost in his warm velvet kiss, his lips parting to breathe into you, muddling your mind as you taste the champagne on his tongue.

God, this man can kiss! He wraps his left arm around your shoulders and pulls you towards him. You angle your body so that he can try and pull you flush against his chest. He might have denied being a pervert at the Ocean Dome but every time he’s kissed you, he’s tried to pull you to him so that your chest is smooshed against his own.

So yeah, maybe he hadn’t meant to shove his face into your boobs but there is no denying that he likes them and definitely doesn’t regret the slip he’d taken that put him there.

He parts his mouth further and you can feel the shift and click of his jaw as he deepens the kiss more. He hums into you, “Mmmm.”

You’re struggling to breathe but you reach up and take a hold of his lapels and pull him closer, not daring to break that kiss.

“Um, excuse me assholes! I’m in the middle of my speech.” There’s a flutter of laughter that fills the small white tent as Casey stands on the stage and stares at you and Bucky in exasperation.

Bucky’s the one that pulls back first, realizing that she’s talking to the two of you. Then you follow his bashful gaze to your best friend.

Her short blonde hair is carefully waved and pulled back on the right side. Her green eyes are shining with amusement but also annoyance. Her long sea green maid of honor dress glistens pleasantly in the dim light of the tent, cast by carefully hung bronze chandeliers.

“Are you done?” She jokes but you nod and give her a glare. “We came to watch you all get hitched, not suck face.”

Bucky doesn’t remove his arm from around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side instead as he chuckles at Casey’s forthright nature.

“You tell ‘em, baby.” Sam agrees. “Stop being gross, man.”

It turns out that when Casey had gotten herself lost at the Ocean Dome; she’d found herself put upon by three large guys looking for an easy mark. Someone they could corner in the wave pool and have some fun with.

Luckily for Casey, Steve and Sam had been looking for Bucky—he’d been busily buried within you at the time, but they still don’t know that—and found a distressed Casey instead.

The threatening guys folded easily when faced by two intimidating war vets, and she’d melted straight into Sam’s arms.

Both you and Casey had gone home with new love interests that night, though you’d clearly one-upped her by getting a marriage proposal instead of just a date.

Casey gives him a wink and you and Bucky both chuckle.

“As I was saying, I didn’t know that when we went to the water park that my best friend would be coming home with a fiancé. I think it’s a bit of an understatement to say that I was a little shocked.

“I tried hard as hell to talk her out of it because, come on, what kind of sane man proposes to a girl he barely met?”

“Bucky, sane?” Sam asks and everyone laughs.

The guests are mostly Bucky’s friends. There are only about ten intricately decorated tables with bouquets of spring morning baby blue and baby blush pink, each made to hold eight people, and only one of those tables are your guests. Casey and a few of your friends from high school lend your only support for your side of this union.

“But…” Casey continues with a heavy sigh. “After watching Bucky and Y/N over the past two weeks I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people fall into step so quickly. You’re both fucking stupid if you think this isn’t going to be hard.”

Your smile wavers because you know Casey is right.

“This is some crazy shit that you two are doing and I still can’t believe that you’re married, Y/N. Not just because it’s, I don’t know, such a grown-up thing to do? But also, because you’re leaving me in the house without a roommate to help me pay the rent.” Casey gripes.

People laugh again and you roll your eyes. “I told you I’m still paying for this month and next month! Whiny brat.”

“Oh, that’s right. Congratulations then!”

Bucky laughs beside you and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“But seriously, Y/N. You’re crazy. I don’t think I could do what you’re doing but I can also see that you and Bucky…I don’t know, you just fit. You’ve been alone for a long time and I don’t just mean single.” She shifts her eyes to Bucky and a seriousness overcomes her playful expression. “You and I had a talk and I explained to you how special our Y/N is.”

Bucky nods slowly.

“You’ll have to take care of her now and I hope you’re up to the task because my girl has been through enough hardship to last her a lifetime. I’m expecting you to maybe not make her life easy, but offer your support when things get rough. Y/N…” Casey has to stop for a second as she fights the lump in her throat, and you lift your head to lean forward towards her even though she’s almost clear on the other side of the tent. “When your grandpa died and you didn’t know what you were going to do or where you were going to go, there was no question in my mind that you belonged with me. Your home has always been wherever I am. I love you and I’m so happy that you found someone that can help you build a new home, one completely your own. I know that’s what you’ve always wanted and I’m so irritated that you found it so quickly.”

She laughs. “You are my best friend. You are my sister. Literally, because my parents adopted her.”

You laugh too, through misty eyes and softly trickling tears as Casey says this for the benefit of the room and the guests who know very little about you.

Bucky’s metal hand gently moves in soothing circles at the center of your back. He leans in, resting his forehead against your temple, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek in an offer of comfort.

“I love you so much, Y/N and Bucky?”

Bucky sits up, pulling back to look at your best friend and give her his undivided attention as she licks her lips and glares at him through her own tears.

“If you hurt her, I know several Avengers who I can coerce into helping me kick your ass so mind your manners and take care of my girl!”

Sam stands up and points over at Bucky, threatening him as he nods. “I’ve got my eye on you, tin man.”

You laugh but wrap your arms around Bucky’s torso as he raises his hands up in surrender. “Looks like I’m outnumbered.” He whispers to you.

“With the promises of pain out of the way, I wanna ask everyone to raise their glasses in honor of the bride and the groom.” Casey continues and Sam hurries to her side and hands her a glass champagne before raising his own.

Surprisingly, everyone in the tent rises and lift their glasses into the air.

“To Y/N and Bucky. You’re both fucking stupid but you look so damn happy. To being really damn happy!” Casey says and amongst chuckles and giggles, your guests raise their glasses in unison.

“To being really damn happy.” They follow and then drink.

Bucky beams and looks down at you before reaching up to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger and pull you into another mind befuddling kiss.

Bucky can’t understand how he ever thought that this life would be endless and wretched as he drowned in his guilt.

He still feels terrible about the things he did in his past. He can’t give back the lives he took but even though he knows that, with you in his arms, he feels as if he could do anything.

He’s not even sure what song is playing. It might be a fast one, but he’s still got you pressed securely against his chest with your head tucked in against his neck and his left arm wrapped around your waist. He leads you with his right hand in your left in a slow swaying dance.

You feel so good where you are, so right with your soft breasts pressed against his own dark suit.

Here you are. His wife. A wife that he can’t seem to stop kissing.

Almost as if you can read his mind, you lean back to look up at him and he smiles down at you, admiring the beauty of your face before he leans down and kisses your lips.

They’re so soft, so perfect, and they pull him in, drowning him in this strange but all-encompassing love you radiate. The moment he met you in that water park it had been like you’d bewitched him. It was more than his face in your boobs.

Bucky can tell the difference between lust and this need to be with you, around you, have you, keep you. Yeah, okay, your boobs had been great, but you slapped him! Tiny thing that you are in relative size to him, you’d stood up for yourself. You’ve got fight in you and Bucky was lost to you right then and there.

Then you spoke and your frankness was amusing. You were kind too but helpless too. He didn’t know what possessed him to ask you to marry him, but he also knows that it’s the best thing he’s ever done. He’d convinced you in less than thirty seconds and here you are, his. All his.

Kissing him. Loving him. It all feels like such a dream. Like he’ll wake up any moment and find himself back in his worst Hydra nightmares. He gets to care for you. He gets to bring you happiness and satisfaction. He gets to make you smile and laugh. He's so lucky.

He tightens his arms around you, and you respond by slipping your hands into his hair. It feels so good that Bucky nearly rips open the back of your dress right then and there just to get at your skin.

He’s been holding himself back really well the past two weeks. Your love had begun with a flurry of passion—public sex in the dark corner of an artificial lagoon and the moment you told him you would marry him, he wanted to wait. He wanted you to be his wife before he tasted your sweetness again.

He’d slept with plenty of women since coming back to New York but like he’d told you, none of them felt right. It had been routine with the other girls he’d been with. Each kiss felt forced or pried from their lips where as you’d given yourself to him completely and without question.

He doesn’t know why you trust him so wholly, but he can only hope that he’s worthy of your faith. He’s made so many mistakes in his long life, this is not one of them.

Bucky pulls back, his lips smacking as he pulls them away from yours. You look dizzy and intoxicated though you haven’t had nearly enough champagne to get you drunk.

“Let’s go home.” He whispers and your eyes suddenly dilate.

He can see the shift of your hips as you struggle with your own arousal and his mouth waters.

After a hasty goodbye to his friends and family—Tony hands him a thin envelope with a check for so much money that Bucky decides to put it in an account for you and you alone, just in case—he pulls you from the reception tent, spread out on the compound lawn. The music of the party follows the two of you as you leave, fading more and more the further you go.

“Bucky?” You say in wonder and he’s sure he knows what has you confused.

He’s moving at such a fast pace that he can hear you struggling to keep up, but he needs to get you as far away from that tent as possible because he can’t wait anymore. Two whole fucking weeks!

As the two of you clear the front of the building and disappear into the darkness of the underground parking lot, Bucky pulls you close and walks you back until your back is pressed into the cool stone wall.

“Here?” You ask him and Bucky answers with a frenzied kiss.

He licks your lips, coaxing them open with the tip of his tongue. When you oblige, he plunges in, tasting the sugar champagne on your tongue.

As he kisses you, his hands move down along your sides and stop at your hips where they begin to pull up the skirt of your dress. He fists the soft fabric, holding it out of his way as he reaches down into your panties and quickly searches your soft folds for your entrance.

He smiles, pleased at how slick you are. He knew that he wasn’t alone in this urge. You wanted him just as much as he wants you.

“Ooooh,” You moan, and it drives him crazy.

“Does that feel good?” He asks you in a sultry whisper.

“Yeah…” You gasp at him.

“How good?”

“S-so good, Bucky.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me. Tell me how to make you feel good.”

“I-” You stop to swallow, and Bucky uses the opportunity to push his index finger into you. Your hands shoot down between your legs and you grip his wrist.

He doesn’t move his hand much. He uses the small subtle motion of just his finger to push into you. You holding his wrist does nothing to stop him and he can feel your juices drip down across his palm.

He wants a taste.

“I want you to eat me up, Bucky.” Bucky’s finger stills as he blinks, shocked that somehow you seem to be reading his mind again, not to mention no woman has ever told him just what she wants before. Just like that first time, he had not been expecting you to confess that you wanted him inside of you.

Your desire to have him eat you out drives him down into a squat. He quickly pulls your underwear down, grips the under side of your left thigh and lifts it up onto his shoulder. He presses a kiss against the soft flesh of your inner thigh, then another, and another. With every kiss he moves closer and closer to your sweetness and your breathing gets so ragged that Bucky hopes no one comes to get their cars.

Here in the dark corner of the garage, though you may not be seen right away, the sounds you’re making would be sure to draw attention.

He presses his nose against the spot just above your nub, enjoy the heady scent before he flicks out his tongue once. Then again. And again. You shudder against him as he begins his search for your nub, pushing the folds of your lower lips back until he finds his prize. He closes his mouth around it and gently sucks.

Your hands shoot into his hair, gripping it so hard that you’re pulling it painfully.

“Oh, fuck…” You whimper and it only stokes the fire in Bucky’s pants. God, he wants you, but he loves the sounds you’re making, and he doesn’t want to stop. So, he doesn’t.

He licks you from bottom to top and then stops over your nub and suckles, lapping up your juices greedily.

When you start to rock your hips against his face, Bucky feels his rod twitch and he can’t hold off anymore.

“I’m coming, baby-doll.” He warns and for a moment he sees the confusion on your sex-dazed face. He quickly undoes the button of his pants and the zipper before pulling himself out and in one fail swoop, he glides into you, burying himself to the hilt.

Your body shudders as you reach your climax. Your whimpers choke off in your throat as you fight the urge to cry out and Bucky just wants to make you come again.

He groans loudly, enjoying your orgasm with you, and he can feel your hands panic as you scramble to shove them over his mouth.

“Shhh, we’re going to get caught.” You realize but Bucky doesn’t care, not right now.

He doesn’t give you a chance to get adjusted to his girth. You’re smooth as silk on the inside and you’re squeezing him as your core settles around him again. He starts to ram himself into you, this time moving more slowly than he had at the water park.

As you rest your head against his clavicle, he reaches down to grip your bottom with his right hand and uses his left to hold your head there against his chest. You shake your head, as you bounce up and down, his stiff rod piercing you over and over.

He likes the way you reach up and grab hold of the shoulder of his tuxedo jacket. The way you’re yanking on it makes him believe that he’s really driving you crazy with pleasure. He feels a swell of pride as your right knee buckles and he quickly wraps his arms around your waist to hold you up then angles himself to fuck you faster.

“Shit…shit…” You mewl and shut your eyes tight as you fight the build of pressure again.

Bucky can feel your left leg, wrapped around his waist, pull him closer and he grinds against you as he thrusts.

“Bucky…Bucky…” You moan, over and over again, you say his name. “Ooh, harder.”

Your demand has an unintended effect and Bucky can feel the pressure build for him, his sack twitching hard as he releases into you. A guttural groan forces its way out of his throat and through his clenched jaw as he keeps pumping into you, grinding against your nub until he feels you convulse around him as your own whimper rises in pitch and then falls away into heavy breathing as you collapse against his chest with the rush of your second orgasm.

For two long minutes you and Bucky stay just like that. Shoulders heaving, chests pounding, genitals tingling as the pleasure radiates through you both and then dies out into pleasing numbness.

“Come here.” Bucky begs, needing your lips now that his body is satiated.

He can feel you struggle against the lull of content collapse, but you give him what he wants. You drop your left leg from around his waist and he falls out of you as your dress pulls back around your feet and you push yourself onto your toes to kiss him eagerly, sweetly, and happily.

As you lay on your back, your eyes slowly closing and opening again, you find a small discolored spot on the wood of your bedroom ceiling. This place, the apartment that Bucky had found for you two in town, is fancier than any place you’ve ever lived before.

The art deco style and the accompanying furniture make you feel like you’ve been plopped straight into the past though Bucky assured you that you could do whatever you wanted with the place.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is your home now, Y/N. I want you to love living here. If you want to paint the walls, paint them. Change the curtains, buy a new couch.”

“We don’t have the money to buy a new couch!” You laugh, thinking of the small savings you have in the bank.

“The hell we don’t. Tony might still kinda hate me what with his parents, but he pays me well.”

You blink, not sure how to react to his words.

“Y/N…” He turns you to face him, forcing you to look away from the standard decorations of the two-bedroom apartment. “You’re my wife. There’s a new bank card for you on your dresser. It says Y/N Barnes though so you may need to update your ID. You have access to all my accounts. You’re my emergency contact at the compound. I made you a spare set of keys for both the apartment and the car. You just need to file the paperwork to forward your mail here.”

This is the moment that you realize that you’re really doing this. You’re really starting a life with this man. You’re taking his last name. Your driver’s license will no longer read Y/N y/l/n but Y/N Barnes.

“Mrs. Barnes?” Bucky’s deep voice lazily calls to you.

Holy shit, that’s you. You’re Mrs. Barnes.

“Yeah?” You reply, your voice cracking.

Bucky smiles at you brightly, amused by your nervousness.

“Let’s go break in the bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The more you stare at the ceiling the more you realize that you don’t mind the decoration as much as you thought you first did. It’s pretty, the elegant curves and sharp angles. Maybe you’ll just get a few new throw pillows to brighten up the space? New bed sheets and some new towels? Maybe new dishes for the kitchen?

You sigh lightly. Excited about the future you can build here, with Bucky at your side.

Despite your pleasant thoughts, you’re so tired. Not only did you get married today but you and Bucky haven’t gotten out of bed since you got home several hours ago, and he brought you in here to break in the bed.

The soft gray light of dawn is beginning to shine in through your bedroom window though you pay it no mind.

Your body is blissfully numb and if you let your eyes stay shut, you’ll drift off just like Bucky did. He’s snuggled up against your right side, his forehead resting against your right temple, his nose on your cheekbone. He’s got his large arms wrapped around you and your fingers are intertwined with his.

For a moment, even though you’re the happiest you could ever possibly be, your usually well structured and plan oriented mind freaks out.

Your emotions bring you to the edge of a panic attack as you realize that this is by far the most reckless, spur of the moment, and wonderfully stupid thing you’ve ever done.

You just married a man that you’ve only known for two weeks. A man who you agreed to marry the same day you met him. A man who you slept with before he even knew your name. What are you doing, Y/N?

In all of your years, you have never made a decision this big without careful consideration of all possible outcomes.

You breathe in slowly then exhale even slower as you think about Bucky’s bedside table, littered with used condom wrappers.

The safe sex isn’t what makes you nervous, it’s the two unprotected times you and Bucky got it on. Once at the water park. Once in the parking garage. Bucky hadn’t been able to wait and to be perfectly honest, you hadn’t been able to wait either. Still, you fret over how careful you’ve been all these years.

You haven’t been on birth control since high school because the side effects for you had always been so terrible. And now with all of this happening so quickly, so quickly, you wonder if you’re ready for any of this.

You love Bucky. You do. You’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever. But creating life?

You should tell Bucky. You should tell him that you’re agonizing over this possibility. A baby? It’s too much, too fast. Too big for you to deal with alone.

Worrying your bottom lip, you turn to look at your husband—holy fuck balls, your husband!—pressing the tip of your nose against his.

“Bucky?” You whisper, wanting to talk but afraid to wake him. He looks so sweet peacefully sleeping, and yet, he responds instantly.

“Mmm?” He asks, his eyebrows moving up though he keeps his eyes shut.

“Bucky, I-I’m worried.” You shift yourself onto your right side completely so that you can lay facing him and he adjusts his hold on you, pulling you closer into the circle of his arms, trapping your hands against his chest. “What if I’m pregnant?”

You sigh lightly, looking down at his lips.

“Wha?” He asks, his brow furrowed.

“We didn’t have protection at the Ocean Dome and in the parking lot...? What if I’m pregnant?”

He opens his eyes slowly, finding yours so that all you can do is get lost in those silver blues.

“You don’t want my baby?” He wonders and there’s a subdued heartbreak in his question that makes your chest ache.

You reach up and press your hands to his cheeks. “No, of course I want your baby, Bucky but…right now? We-”

Can you admit out loud that you married him so fast that you’re not sure a baby is the smartest thing to do when you’ve only known him for such a short amount of time?

Won’t that hurt your marriage? You love him. You don’t want him to think that you regret marrying him. You don’t. You’re scared shitless. What if you’re not a good wife? But you don’t regret it.

“I want to be with you, but just you. Babies can wait.” Somewhere in your brain and heart, you’re relieved that Bucky seems to want kids. You’ve wanted to have kids since your parents died. You want your own family.

Bucky stares into your eyes with a carefully controlled calm.

“So, you do want to have my kids eventually?” He asks, needing clarification. You can see the sharp sting of desperation in his eyes.

“Yes.” You relax, wrapping your words in loving promise. “Yes, Bucky, I want to have your babies. A whole van full if you want just…not now.”

Bucky shuts his blue eyes again, plunging you into uncertainty but then he tightens his arms around you to give you a comforting squeeze. He kisses your lips softly, melting your panic.

“I don’t want any right now either.” Bucky says. “I’ll run out and get you the morning after pill later.”

You let him pull you close, relishing in the affection he’s showering on you. God, he’s so perfect. Where has he been all your life?

Your worry stifled, you allow your heavy lids to shut and in moments you’re fast asleep.

“Baby?” Bucky’s voice gently pulls you from your deep slumber. You groan, hating to wake.

“No.” You complain. “Go away.”

You reach out and your palm finds the front of his face. You push it away and then tug your thick fluffy comforter up and over your head to plunge you into darkness.

Bucky’s intoxicatingly sexy chuckle coaxes you awake more than his sweet voice. You like his laugh.

“Come on, baby-doll, I don’t have a lot of time. Steve called.”

Those two words will be the death of you. You’ve only been with Bucky two weeks, but you already know what those two little words mean.

Steve can go suck a fucking donkey dick! You’re gonna smash his damn phone so that he can’t call Bucky in anymore. Knowing Steve though, he'd just come and get him in person.

“Noooooo.” You whine quietly, tugging your blanket back down to look for Bucky’s face.

“I know.”

“It’s our wedding day!”

“That was yesterday.” Another chuckle.

“It’s our first day as man and wife, Bucky. We’re supposed to leave for Bora Bora tonight.”

You hate this welling sadness that builds in your stomach and reaches up to choke you. Bucky’s own expression reacts to the disappointment in your voice, his lips turn down at the corners.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whispers, reaching up to push your bird’s nest hair back away from your face. “We’ll reschedule the tickets so that we can go when I get back, okay?”

“How long will you be gone?” You know it’s pointless to ask but you have to.

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t know, Y/N. As long as the mission takes.”

“But you’re married now.” You remind him.

He growls forlornly and yanks you up into a sitting position so that he can wrap his arms around you.

“I know.” He groans. “I’m a terrible husband.”

What?! No!

“You are not. I’m just…I’m gonna miss you.” You haven’t spent more than a few hours every day away from Bucky since you met him. The time it takes you to get home, sleep a bit, and then find your way back to him, that’s the only time you’ve been apart.

“I know.” He laments, squeezing you tighter.

Ugh, you want his arms to crush you. Why does he have to go?

He pulls back and without needing prompting, he finds your pillow-like lips with his own, crushing them in a fervor. You return his enthusiasm, marred as it might be with aching disappointment.

You lose yourself in his kiss and when you’re finally breathless, you have to pull back and break it. Gasping, you reach up to tuck Bucky’s hair behind his right ear and he does the same to both of yours.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He promises.

“Swear to me you’ll be safe.”

“I’ll be safe.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear I’ll stay safe. I’ll come back to you, Y/N. And when I do, we’ll get away and it’ll just be you and me.”

God, you want him back already and he hasn’t even left yet.

“Then go.” You say and after a quick peck to his lips, you push his shoulders away.

He rises off of the bed but before he can take a step he leans down and kisses you breathless again. He pulls away, the taste of mint on his tongue, and with a final and very cute finger wiggling wave of his hand, he disappears through your bedroom door.

You listen to him walk away from you and when the front door closes, your heart settles into an uncomfortable state of pining and inescapable worry.

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tvdversefanfiction · 4 years

Text

Canary Carnage

Chapter Thirteen: Killer Carnage

Warnings: I don’t own any of the rights, content or characters belonging to any of the DC content I use within the story along with not owning any rights, content or characters within The Vampire Diaries, Originals or Legacies.

18 Rating: Moderate/Graphic displays of violence, sexual innuendos, sexually charged scenes, SMUT, strong language and potentially triggering scenes.

Pairings: M/M, F/F, M/F.

Elijah Mikaelson couldn’t help but to be left feeling uneasy following Laurel Lance returning to New Orleans permanently although he definitely enjoyed having her back he could help but feel guilty for wanting her back in a city that held so much pain for the both of them.

However it was Lucas Lance’s return or rather the arrival of his Earth X doppelganger Lucas Wayne that Elijah was much more concerned by and so he wasted very little time in getting to know the infamous Blue Canary, quickly discovering that Lucas Wayne was a far cry from Lucas Lance.

Although there were similarities between the two doppelgangers other than their looks: Both Lucas’ were smart and calculating with a determined drive to stay alive, both had complicated relationships with their biological mothers and both had managed to capture the attention of Elijah’s brother Klaus Mikaelson much to everyone’s worries considering how bad the original hybrid’s curiosity with Lucas Lance ended.

“I see your settling into New Orleans rather well Mr Wayne.” Elijah greeted the Earth X doppelganger after vamp speeding into Rousseau's, speeding over to the bar counter to find Lucas Wayne serving drinks to customers with Josh stood by his side. “I believe your also living with the Lance sisters at their hotel.”

“I’ve got this,” Lucas told Josh before walking over to face off with the noble original vampire, leaving Josh to tend to customers as he spoke to Elijah. “The pristine suit which looks pricy as hell must mean you’re Elijah Mikaelson. I’ve met your brother Klaus he’s what I call an original stalker of sorts.”

“My brother Niklaus is merely being cautious you see your doppelganger Lucas Lance proved himself rather troublesome for everyone including himself and we don’t want a repeat of that for everyone’s sakes…especially your mother’s.” Elijah informed the Blue Canary.

“I get it Lucas Lance was the villain in your story but in mine people like you, your siblings and god even my mother were the villains.” Lucas replied to Elijah. “I’m here because I have nowhere else to go and I’m beginning to believe I’m here to save this city.”

“What is it you think that this city needs saving from?” Elijah scoffed at him as he took a seat at the counter.

“First guess would be the vampires who treat humans like walking snacks, the wolves keep themselves to themselves so they’re not on the agenda and the witches are pretty hit and miss.” Lucas answered him before going over to pour the original a glass of straight whisky before walking back over and serving Elijah his drink. “I’m not coming for anyone in particular but I won’t stand by if anyone or anything comes for the few innocents around here.”

“Are you threatening me Mr Wayne or are you threatening my entire family?” Elijah asked him before taking a drink of his whisky, only to smile at the taste of this whisky. “I guess you’re the kind of bartender who knows their customer’s drink.”

“I like Sara and I’m even fond of Laurel so when they tell me somebody’s good I’ll accept it until they prove otherwise however nobody has anything nice to say about Klaus Mikaelson and his stalking of me isn’t helping me think otherwise.” Lucas admitted to Elijah. “As for your drink consider it on me as a thanks for putting your brother in line…unless you want me to do the job for you?”

“My brother Niklaus isn’t someone who is easily handled especially considering how fond he was of your doppelganger…personally I didn’t see why.” Elijah informed Lucas before downing his drink and placing the empty glass onto the counter. “I much prefer this Lucas standing in front of me however morals are a rare thing around here and they tend to get you killed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind Mr Mikaelson.” Lucas responded with a sincere smile on his face before Elijah vamp sped out of Rousseau's and out of sight.

“Declaring war on the Mikaelson’s doesn’t end well for you trust me my friend Marcel once thought he could survive that family and let’s just say you won’t see him in New Orleans anymore.” Josh warned Lucas as he walked over to his new employee. “He was considered family to them as well.”

“I’ve dealt with murderous mothers, overbearing fathers, endless superhuman enemies and literally Nazi’s in my time I’m sure I can handle a vampire or two.” Lucas boasted to his vampire boss only to be met by Josh laughing at him.

“Funny your less evil than your evil twin but your just as foolish.” Josh scoffed at the Blue Canary. “Forgive me for my advice I’m just the only person in this city that doesn’t seem to have a death wish.”

Josh Rosza was far wiser than his years but hid behind an adorable yet admit-tingly dorky personality which had served him very well as a vampire especially considering everyone around him had died and yet he continued to advise his friends to follow suit only to see them take different paths.

His first greatest loss was the love of his life Aiden who fell victim to the Mikael’s ruthless aunt Dahlia before he found himself losing his best friend Davina several times before losing her for what seemed like for good and in the last five years alone he had lost his close friend Marcel Gerard again due to the Mikaelson’s.

When Davina first returned to New Orleans five years ago Josh’s biggest fear was losing her again to a doomed fate but instead, she gave up her need for vengeance against Klaus as she fell back in love with Kol and got married.

Although the wonder witch still lived in the city their friendship had changed and became strained as Josh made clear his distaste over their handling of Marcel Gerard. Josh was determined to find Marcel being the only one who hadn’t given up on the updated original and that put a strain on his relationship with Davina Claire-Mikaelson.

However, in the last five years he had found himself forming a new friendship with the Black Canary keeping in touch over his mission to find his friend and her mission to save the world and now he had her son, or at least some version of her son, working for him and feared Lucas Wayne would either follow the same path as his doppelganger Lucas Lance or his estranged friend Davina.

Five years earlier Klaus Mikaelson had found himself growing rather close to Lucas Lance despite a determination to do anything considering the Red Canary was selfish, reckless, manipulative and calculating, all the things Klaus used to be before he became a father. It took him time to realize that what attracted him most to Lucas was how much the canary reminded him of himself.

Of course it grew more complicated as he learned more about the Red Canary realizing the meta-human was nowhere near as heartless as he’d have liked people to admit and far more troubled than even he realized unleashing Klaus’ need to want to help Lucas find his way like his siblings and his daughter helped him but unlike Klaus’ long and immortal life the Red Canary’s life was cut short.

Lucas Lance was never a great love of his life and Klaus doubted he would’ve been had they been together longer but his memory did serve as a painful reminder of a time he failed somebody he actually wanted to help and therefore the arrival of Lucas’ Earth X doppelganger Lucas Wayne only served to remind the original hybrid even more and for that reason he had been avoiding the Blue Canary like a plague until he was told to do exactly that and Klaus Mikaelson never did what he was told.

“Listen up Klaus because I’m only going to say this once under no circumstances whatsoever are you to come near Lucas. The last thing we need right now is your undead ass fucking up my sister’s chance of getting to know her son.” Sara demanded as she walked into the compound to find Klaus stood waiting for her.

“Just because my sister has grown fond of you doesn’t mean I’m not going to tear your head off for the nerve of trying to make demands of me besides the last Lucas found more danger with you than he ever did with me.” Klaus snapped back at the White Canary.

“That was different…we had just lost our mother…we thought there was no going back for him.” Sara replied with a clear sense of regret in her voice. “This is our chance to do right by him.”

“The only problem with that logic is Lucas Wayne isn’t Lucas Lance which means he’s not your nephew or your sister’s son. You’ve just let some stranger straight into your home because he looks familiar.” Klaus told her with a hint of judgement on his face, knowing Sara, Laurel and Rebekah were to blame for Lucas Lance’s demise.

“He is Lucas though or at least the way Lucas used to be until everything went to shit. This version of him is kind, loyal and heroic just like the baby brother I grew up with.” Sara admitted to the original hybrid as tears formed in her eyes. “He may have a different history and he may not know me or Laurel but he’s so much like the Lucas I used to know it makes me feel…”

“Guilty that you gave up on the original?” Klaus butted in, all too eager to make the canary feel even more guilty. “He’s not your second chance Sara and he’s not going to make it right how you and your sister plotted to murder your own blood all because he had an episode or two.”

“He murdered our mother that’s not an episode or two!” Sara reminded Klaus, furious that the original would dismiss her mother’s death like it was nothing, also furious that she gave up on her adoptive brother so easily and that he was reminding her of how she failed him. “Please just stay the hell away from this Lucas!”

“I’ll take it into consideration Miss Lance.” Klaus lied, knowing damn fine he was now going to make himself well known to the Blue Canary.

Klaus Mikaelson initially had no intention to have any contact with Lucas Wayne following their initial meeting weeks ago but after learning how much Sara Lance wanted him to stay away he just couldn’t pass an opportunity to put the White Canary in her place still loathing her for murdering his elder sister Freya Mikaelson and holding her just as responsible for Laurel in the parts they played in Lucas Lance’s death.

In fact, Klaus genuinely believed he had moved on from Lucas Lance’s death but the idea of his family being so quick to embrace a purer version of him angered the original hybrid far more than he thought it would and now he wanted to teach the Lance sisters a lesson for dishonoring the memory of a man they helped murder.

Caitlin Snow was a powerful woman long before she discovered she was a meta-human working as a well-respected bio-engineer at S.T.A.R. Labs alongside her fiancé Ronnie Raymond who was a structural engineer for the company but everything changed for her upon her fiance's mysterious disappearance eventually turning her from a loving and caring woman to someone with an ice cold heart as Killer Frost was born.

Caitlin chose a life of villainy following her heartbreak after discovering her powers of thermometric cryokinesis taking on the villainess mantle as Killer Frost leaving Caitlin Snow and all she worked for behind which led to her becoming enemies with some of the most powerful heroes including the Black Canary.

Killer Frost had a long and complicated history with Laurel Lance having once been best friends with the canary only to later become obsessed in bringing her down always failing until the death of the multiverse gave her an opportunity to arrive on Earth X, a world which followed none of the rules that the other worlds did in the now dead multiverse.

The realization that the Black Canary currently residing within Earth X wasn’t the Black Canary from her world hadn’t stopped her obsession especially with Killer Frost’s new friends, all of which were determined to destroy at least one if not all three of the canaries within New Orleans.

“In such a big and busy city, it’s quite remarkable to find such peace in a quiet little place like this.” Frost stated as she walked into the quiet Rousseau's bar to find Lucas Wayne stood behind the bar wiping down the counter. “Either you’re a really bad bartender or people are scared to come into this establishment.”

“I guess you’re officially stopping me from having to close anytime soon.” Lucas greeted the long white-haired woman as she walked over to the bar and sat down at the counter. “You look strangely familiar…have we met before?”

“Nope you don’t exist in my timeline or my world which also doesn’t exist anymore.” She replied, making it clear to the Blue Canary that she was from the multiverse. “This world is quite intriguing, but the only downfall seems to be there’s one too many Lances around here.”

“I’m a Wayne not a Lance but I’m more interested in who the bloody hell you are?” Lucas wondered just as Laurel walked into the bar looking horrified to see Killer Frost, who instantly rose from her chair and turned around to face the Black Canary.

“Killer Frost…you’re supposed to be long dead not to mention the world itself died after you!” Laurel said in shock, clearly uneasy to see an old foe.

“I’m not exactly the Killer Frost you know but I hate you just as much if not more.” Frost revealed to Laurel, as she found herself stood between both canaries. “If you think your Earth X son was the only one to jump ship before the death of the multiverse than you thought wrong.”

“You should leave now before you wind up just as dead as your other doppelgangers!” Laurel warned Frost, with a look of hatred in her eyes, a look Lucas had never seen from the Black Canary but had seen from the Black Siren one time too many.

“My father told me all about you, you were long dead on my Earth too but you were quite the formidable foe before that…in my world you were my twisted mother’s closest confidant so it only makes sense you hate the good versions of her.” Lucas piped in, once again showing a vast knowledge about the multiverse.

“You’re so much more than just a looker if only you were a bit redder instead of blue we may have got along!” Killer Frost told Lucas before lifting her hand in his direction shooting out a large ice blast from the palm of her hands as Laurel released a canary cry in her direction, the ice blast hitting Lucas and throwing him into the glass cabinet filled with alcohol destroying it before throwing Lucas down to the ground, as Laurel’s canary cry sent the villainess Killer Frost flying across the bar before hitting a wall and crash landing onto the ground.

“I warned you to get the hell out of here Caitlin!” Laurel shouted at the doppelganger of her nemesis. “Now I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

The Blue Canary and Killer Frost both rose to their feet at the same time, the Blue Canary ready to charge at the villainess white haired woman while the white haired woman had all eyes on the Black Canary but before anyone could attack Klaus vamp sped into the bar, speeding all the way over to Lucas before grabbing a hold of him and vamp speeding out of Rousseau's with the Blue Canary leaving a confused Laurel Lance standing alone in the bar with her nemesis Caitlin Snow.

“Well I was planning on killing you both, but I suppose I’m not totally pissed it’s just you and me now!” Killer Frost told the Black Canary before raising her hand to release another ice blast in Laurel’s direction, just as Laurel released a large canary cry in the direction of the villainess.

If Laurel was going to win against Caitlin Snow’s ruthless alter ego Killer Frost then she had better get her head in the game but with the doppelganger of her son just being kidnapped by Klaus Mikaelson she couldn’t help but worry about Lucas Wayne and what the original hybrid had in store for him.

Klaus Mikaelson had learned a lot about the canaries during the five years in which Sara and Laurel had clashed with him and his family and although his siblings had built friendships with the Lance sisters he had kept wary of them deciding to instead study the canaries and learn their weaknesses.

Klaus was forever paranoid about betrayals and potential feuds after all his family’s worst enemies tended to be close allies at some stage before turning against them and so he found it wiser to study all that came into his life knowing how best to take them both down if he needed to, which he always did.

He knew Laurel’s canary cry was pretty powerful so much so that it destroyed the hollow and their blood was special enough to restore Elijah’s memories and he also knew the canaries could die just like Lucas Lance died or be turned into a vampire like Sara Lance.

The canaries were powerful but only as powerful as their cry or at least that’s what Klaus believed and thanks to a brief alliance with Nyssa al Ghul he knew exactly how to deal with a canary cry putting the Blue Canary exactly where he wanted him.

“This should give us some proper time alone!” Klaus stated after vamp speeding into Lafayette Cemetery with Lucas and putting a power dampening collar around the son of batman’s neck. “Don’t want you getting any advantage over me with that damn canary cry.”

Lucas wasted no time in grabbing a hold of the original hybrid’s arm as he bent himself over and threw Klaus over his back until the vampire hit the ground with force while Lucas twisted his arm, popping the arm out of its socket before harshly stomping his foot down on Lucas’ throat, easing off just enough to let the hybrid speak.

“I don’t need a cry to kick your ass Klaus!” Lucas shouted at him before Klaus grabbed a hold of the Blue Canary and flung him over his body forcing the canary to land on the ground next to the vampire, as Klaus popped his arm back into its socket after a series of groans.

“I hate you!” Klaus furiously stated to Lucas as he climbed on top of his body, preparing to strangle the canary only to be headbutt in the face by Lucas, followed by Lucas kicking the vampire upwards, before Klaus finally found his footing as Lucas stood up to face him.

“You don’t even know me!” Lucas snapped back at Klaus before the original hybrid sped towards him, only for the Blue Canary to deliver a series of punches across the vampire’s face before Klaus threw him to the ground, Lucas grabbing a hold of Klaus, making the vampire fall on top of the canary.

“I…” Klaus said before pausing as he looked into the eyes of the Blue Canary, as hidden feelings began to rise and suddenly the vampire found himself kissing a stunned Lucas only for Lucas to respond by grabbing the vampire and throwing his body over his own, making Klaus hit the ground harshly once again as Lucas rose to his feet.

“What the hell do you think your doing?” Lucas questioned Klaus, as Klaus quickly stood back up, both looking as confused as the other.

“You just look so much like him…” Klaus reluctantly admitted to the canary. “I guess the only reason I want you dead is because your forcing me to feel something I don’t want to feel.”

“I surprisingly understand where you’re coming from I mean I’m not going around trying to kill then kiss people but it’s not easy seeing a doppelganger of my mother whose nothing like her so I can only imagine how hard it must be to see a doppelganger of somebody you were once in love with.” Lucas replied to Klaus, surprising the original with his kindness.

“I was never in love with Lucas Lance…I cared for him, but I never loved him.” Klaus revealed to the Blue Canary, admitting not only to him but himself. “I don’t normally try to be a hero, but I really wanted to save him and not because I loved him but because he reminded me of him.”

“Sara filled me in on how you used to be a lot worse than what you are now which is saying something if this is the filtered down version.” Lucas joked with Klaus as he sat down on a nearby wall. “I guess my doppelganger reminded you of just how bad you were, how far you’ve come and how much better your life is because of it. You wanted that for him because if he could get it someone who was probably nowhere near as ruthless as you once were then in some way it’d be like you deserved the life your living but instead he got took down and you can’t help but think maybe you should’ve been taken out too.”

“Are you seriously trying to psychoanalyze me because I can promise you, I’m nowhere near as deep as you’re assuming, I am nor do I regret any action I’ve made in the past.” Klaus argued with Lucas, refusing to admit there was some truth in Lucas’ words.

“Sometimes heroes last long enough to become villains and sometimes villains find their way back to heroes once more but that’s not on anybody if they don’t find their way back least of all a thousand year old vampire whose actions are morally questionable on a good day.” Lucas explained to Klaus, as Klaus sat down next to the Blue Canary, listening to him despite looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. “I’m not Lucas Lance but I’m not some pillar of purity and goodness either we live in a grey world Klaus although admittedly redder here on Earth Blood. I can’t say what happened to my doppelganger was the right way to handle him nor it was the wrong way but what I can say is he’s not me and he’s not you either…it’s time to let it go.”

Lucas was right about Klaus holding onto the past righter than he could have possibly known as Klaus realized the words coming out of this Earth X doppelganger were wise and if he was wise, he’d take the Blue Canary’s advice.

It was in that moment for the first time since Lucas Wayne had arrive on Earth Blood that Klaus Mikaelson had started to see the Blue Canary for who he was and not just who he reminded him of.

Laurel Lance’s history with her world’s Caitlin Snow was very different to the one she had currently found herself coming face to face with: they had never been friends just enemies and it wasn’t the death of Ronnie Raymond which led to the birth of her world’s Killer Frost it was the death of Barry Allen which was her world’s first flash before Wally West took over the mantle.

Laurel may have never seen a good side to Killer Frost but she knew people who did such as Cisco Ramone and Wally West and it was those friendships that constantly put her at odds with the villainess making the Black Canary very wary of the manic meta-human but not fully unaware of her potential to be redeemed.

The Black Canary and Killer Frost’s fight lasted for a long time much to the expense of Rousseau's which had been destroyed from the inside out with broken tables, chairs and bottles spread across the floor with planks of wood and glass scattered everywhere as Laurel found herself beaten, broken and bruised while laid on a floor covered in the ruins of Rousseau's as Killer Frost stood above her looking victorious.

“I’ve always wanted to kill Laurel Lance, but I never thought it would be this easy.” Frost said while taunting Laurel, ready to kill the Black Canary. “It’s just a shame you’re the one who made it here but oh well every Laurel’s practically the same even the not so pure ones.”

“You are better than this Caitlin! I may not know this version of you but every version of you becomes like this because you lose someone you love.” Laurel told the white-haired woman, hoping to appeal to some humanity within her. “I lost my son my actual son and it broke me more than I ever thought it would but what your doing isn’t going to bring them back it’s just dishonoring their memory and what they meant to you.”

“Yeah here’s the thing I no longer care about anyone or anything.” Killer Frost replied as she magically formed an ice pick above her hand from out of thin air before Lucas sped into Rousseau's and clipped the power dampener collar around the white-haired woman’s neck before throwing her to the floor much to Laurel’s relief.

“You’re not going to believe me when I say this, but Klaus Mikaelson actually comes in handy from time to time!” Lucas declared as he walked over to Laurel, offering his hand to her and helping her get back onto her feet.

“Funnily enough I do believe it he always did have a soft spot for that face.” Laurel admitted to Lucas before the both turned to look at a pissed off Killer Frost whose was slowly getting back on her feet as her white hair turned brown.

“What are we going to do about little miss frosty?” Lucas asked Laurel who surprised him with a smile on her face as she watched Killer Frost’s hair turn completely brown.

“We’re going to help Killer Frost find Caitlin Snow once more.” Laurel revealed to a surprised Lucas, who was in awe of this version of his mother’s sense of forgiveness and kindness.

“Okay…but we’re going to need a cage or something to keep her in the meantime.” Lucas suggested just as Klaus sped into Rousseau's with a sinister smirk on his face.

“I may have a prison or two I’d be willing to lend the canaries…pending negotiations of course.” Klaus was eager to inform them all.

“Of course, you do!” Laurel scoffed while rolling her eyes, as she noticed Lucas and Klaus sharing a smile that made her feel very uneasy.

Laurel Lance had to deal with a lot since arriving on Earth Blood firstly the Mikaelson’s, then her twisted brother, then the Mikaelson’s and her brother only to then find out that baby brother of hers was actually her son before having to watch him meet a grizzly end but as she stood in the ruins of Rousseau's feeling the chemistry between Lucas Wayne and Klaus Mikaelson she had finally realized this was her all-time low.

The Black Canary was never a fan of the original hybrid, but she couldn’t argue with his weird sense of loyalty towards her son Lucas Lance even if it did confuse her she was happy someone was on his side especially considering she couldn’t be. However the Earth X doppelganger of her son Lucas Wayne was kind, honorable and loving, everything she believed Klaus Mikaelson wasn’t and the last thing she wanted was for the Blue Canary to end up just as bad if not worse than the Red Canary.

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the-foxes-fangs · 5 years

Text

I Wish I Was the Moon: Mitsuhide’s Birthday Interlude

As requested by the lovely @vhaena (thank you for your patience

Warnings: Fire hazards that should only be attempted in the company of a trained Sasuke

Read the longer fic for context here

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Surprising him would require some kind of bait and switch, there was no way to distract him from any activity, including her own, but it was a challenge worth rising to, given the lengths he was prone to go to for her sake.

It was easy enough to think of an interesting gift, but sending out letters requesting assistance required enough subterfuge that she nearly felt guilty for conspiring under his nose, even though the conspiracy was entirely innocuous. She knew he made an effort, despite himself, to give her her privacy in both correspondence and conversations, and so her requests went out with fulfilled orders and a few convenient gifts.

The trickiest part was to meet Kyubei, the linchpin of the whole plan, without drawing Mitsuhide’s attention, but somehow they managed to pass each other in the halls and palm off notes like school children.

She had deliberately begun the process several months early to throw him off the scent and allow the castle to return to a normal state until as close to his birthday as was possible. But now that the clock was winding down and the event was the next day, she could feel his curious eyes on her, and the question in his smile at the sight of her practically slinking through the halls.

He had brought her her favorite sweets that night, and had an expression that could only be described as solicitous insofar as his face ever betrayed any anxiety at all.

Her reassuring smile didn’t seem to lift his spirits, as he undid her hair and sat her before him to comb it, a habit that soothed him whenever he was troubled, a kind of wordless intimacy that reminded him of the trust between them and the strength of their bond.

She felt him pause and lean forward to rest his chin upon her shoulder with a sigh.

“Are you… unhappy here?” He asked, very softly, the directness of the question betraying his anxiety.

“What? I couldn’t be happier.” She answered in a rush, feeling a strong pang of guilt at having given him the impression that her feelings had changed.

“You left a great many things behind to be with me, and I’m, well, me. It would be natural if you regretted it.” He said, so softly she had to strain to hear it.

“My handsome, sweet-hearted fox. I’ve never looked back– or is it forward? At any rate, I’ve never wanted to look in any direction but the one you’re in, and I never will.” She said, tilting her head to rest her cheek against his hair.

“I’m aware that you’re planning a completely unnecessary banquet for my birthday, but that’s no reason for you to look so harried, little mouse.”

His breath stirred the hair on her neck and sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine as she steeled herself to– not exactly lie– but evade. “Of course it’s necessary, who could be more important to celebrate than you?” She asked lightly as she reached up to run her fingers through his hair.

“How well you’ve learned all of my tricks.” He replied with a soft low laugh that set her heart beating faster. “I won’t make you talk, no matter how I’m tempted to, so long as you look me in the eye and promise me that if anything troubles you you won’t hold back.”

She turned to face him, arms around his neck, and looked into his haunting, piercing eyes. “If anything troubles me, I’ll always tell you.”

He studied her face intently and she forced herself not to flinch. It wasn’t as if planning his birthday troubled her, and as such it wasn’t technically a lie. She hoped he couldn’t see her finding loopholes to keep the slightest hint of guilt out of her expression. Besides, if he could read her mind, surprise be damned, he’d find only love there and a fierce desire to show him how well loved he truly was.

“Why, I like this side of you as much as all the rest, it seems.” He said at last, the ease back in his voice and smile.

A close, close call. She leaned toward him for a kiss, laughing as he pulled them both down into the bedding, laughter turning to a gasp at the feel of his cool fingers gliding down her throat, and the promise of his touch.

He was up before daybreak, the same as any other day, which she had been counting on as she hustled out of bed herself and said a silent prayer to the god of fickle fortune that Kyubei had succeed in taking him away on a local inspection of the ongoing rice harvest.

She peeked into his office, and smiled with satisfaction at the bit of rice straw that Kyubei had left as a signal, an otherwise unremarkable feature in the well used room. The others would be waiting in the castle town, having traveled on a tight schedule that brought them to the town just after he was gone, leaving no time for his spies to report their presence. The signal went out and one by one they filtered in, Masamune first, with a wild grin, eye alight with amusement as he put up his hand and whispered “you know we’re never going to actually surprise him, right?”

“Probably not, but it’s the effort that counts.” She answered, yelping as he enveloped her in a bear hug.

“Masamune, try to have some manners.” Hideyoshi interjected with a long-suffering sigh, as he reached out to pat her on the head.

“Yes, a commendable effort, though probably wasted.” Nobunaga added, gliding majestically through the doors.

“I don’t even see the point in trying.” Muttered Ieyasu, trailing beside him.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful that we’ve all managed to visit Lord Mitsuhide on his birthday.” Mitsunari said with a sunny smile.

“You, think? That will be the day.” Ieyasu shot back with a snort.

“I still would very much like a lock of your hair, Lord Ieyasu.” Sasuke said, appearing out of nowhere next to Ieyasu, who jerked back and glared at him.

“What? Why!? Also no! You’re as weird as she is, and that’s really saying something. Is everyone from the future this weird, or did they send you here because they couldn’t stand you?” Ieyasu said, bitterly.

She clapped her hands lightly to get their attention, and felt a rush of nostalgia for her days at Azuchi. “I’ve missed you all, even your incessant bickering. But time is short, so, did you bring it?”

“Of course.” Nobunaga said with a magnanimous gesture.

“I tested it, it’s as strong as you said it should be.” Ieyasu answered with a shake of his head.

“I can’t wait to see this.” Masamune said, rubbing his hands together with delight.

“I still think this sounds incredibly dangerous. I don’t like the idea at all.” Hideyoshi added fretfully.

“I compounded the ingredients you requested, they’re as pure as they can be and relatively safe.” Sasuke said as he patted her on the shoulder. “I have to say, this is a surprising idea.”

“Yes, well, I went through a phase of fascination with pirates after those you knows came out you know when.” She muttered to him.

“I’m quite curious to see how this will work myself.” Mitsunari said thoughtfully.

“Well anyhow, I’m off to the kitchen. I’d like to have tasted it before hand but,” Masamune shrugged expressively, “I’ll take the word of the barbarian traders.”

“I tasted it and it was… interesting.” Hideyoshi said, the tips of his ears truning faintly red.

“Oh is that what you call tearfully professing your undying admiration and love for Lord Nobunaga?” Interesting?” Ieyasu asked with a roll of his eyes. “Just take care, Mitsuhide has a high tolerance but this barbarian drink is a strong as anything I’ve ever tested.” He added, watching the attendants roll the large barrel, looking somewhat the worse for its long journey, toward the banquet hall.

They went their separate ways for final preparations, and she finished dressing hurriedly and went to meet him at the gates. Kyubei nodded to her with a smile as she went to throw her arms around Mitsuhide, armor and all, and kiss him on the cheek.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Why you look almost as sparkling as a lit firecracker, little mouse, did something especially good happen while I was being dragged about like an obedient pet for your pleasure?” He asked with a wink.

“I suppose you’ll have to run along and change to find out.” She answered, winking back at him. “I’ll be waiting in the banquet hall.”

“Oh very well, I’ll arrange my face into an expression of surprise if it makes you happy.” He said over his shoulder as he sauntered away.

She went and joined the others, mouth watering at the sight and scent of the feast Masamune had prepared and nodded at Sasuke and Nobunaga where they stood ready.

They waited in silence, save for Ieyasu snorting again, until they heard the soft sound of the opening door, and, just as he walked in, set fire to the row of cups of gunpowder laced brandy in a dazzling show of leaping flame.

“Happy Birthday!” They all shouted together, and though she never could say for certain that he was truly surprised, he managed a fine imitation of it just the same, and the genuinely pleased expression on his face, though fleeting, was more than enough to justify the work.

She picked up two of the cups still alight, thick stone to keep it from heating too soon, and went to him, handing him one Sasuke and Nobunaga passed the rest around to his retainers and allies. “A toast to Mitsuhide, who keeps us all on our toes year after year, and is as fine a friend and lover as anyone could ever ask for!” She said, and clinked her cup to his as he raised his brow at her, a faint blush on his face.

She reached over and clapped her hand quickly over the flames first on his cup and then her own, and everyone in the room followed suit and tossed the liquor back, the gunpowder in it burning like the devil as it went down. He joined them and broke out into a surprised smile.

The rest of the room was in various paroxysms of coughing and choking at the high alcohol content and rough finish, even Nobunaga was clearing his throat discretely.

“I can taste that!” He exclaimed quietly, and gave her a look of admiration she could feel to her toes. “Well done, little mouse. Well done.” He murmured sweetly.

“As she hypothesized, you can’t so much taste things as feel the sensation if they’re extremely potent.” Sasuke said as they joined him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looking quite the scientist, except for the flush of the liquor spreading across his face.

“I can’t believe–” Ieyasu said irritably, clearing his throat, “that we went to so much trouble to obtain something so utterly vile!”

“I could see how–” Mitsunari said, between bouts of coughing, “someone could get to like this.”

“Ha! Just try and fool me with that concoction!” Masamune cut in, laughing heartily as he served them all food.

Hideyoshi, who appeared to be more sensitive to alcohol than he seemed, was quite red, and glaring at them all. “Unbelievable! A fire! With gunpowder! Indoors! Well no wonder you refused to travel back to Azuchi for this– this– madness!” He sputtered.

“I found it a most impressive display.” Nobunaga said, with a smile. “Seeing our Mitsuhide surprised makes the journey well worth it.”

“Well, I have to give the barbarians credit, this is quite the drink.” Mitsuhide said, as he refilled his cup.

“The gunpowder was– is–will be? A popular addition amongst pirates waaaaay wayyy over on the other side of the world.” She said, already feeling the effects of the strong liquor. “But when I think of you I think of gunpowder and alcohol, which made think of pirates which made me think of this.”

“I don’t know whether to be completely pleased or a little insulted.” Mitsuhide replied with an amused smile. “I’ve never been one for sailing, you know.”

“I’ll just shut up and eat.” She said, feeling the heat across her face at his teasing, but quite pleased herself nonetheless.

He somehow managed to slip Masamune a bit of drink, and he promptly fell face first into the bosom of a maid who didn’t seem terribly put out by the development, as Hideyoshi, alternating between bouts of fuming and maudlin affection, saw to it that he was carried to his room.

“I just can’t believe that you would put Lord Nobunaga in danger of being burned!” Hideyoshi said, shaking his finger in her face and then reaching out to muss her hair, with a glitter of tears in his eyes. “I really do miss having you at Azuchi you know. I worry about you all the time, thinking ‘is Mitsuhide making sure she doesn’t work herself sick? Is Mitsuhide making sure she’s wearing a heavy enough coat?’ He’d better be!”

“If anything I imagine Mitsuhide is keeping entirely too close an eye on our former chatelaine. I’ll bet it’s like being in prison, but she’s goofy enough to enjoy that.” Ieyasu said, a faint slur betraying the affection in his words. He had been as approving as he ever was when she’d told him that a strong dose of pepper was the traditional garnish for the beverage.

“Oh what a beautiful understanding of love you have, Lord Ieyasu. Truly, you never fail to astonish me with your insight.” Mitsunari said, apparently the only one of them drinking in careful moderation.

“I’ll insight you!” Ieyasu replied, staggering forward only to be caught by a grinning Nobunaga.

“One can imagine Mitsuhide as a pirate easily enough. He’d be a terror with a ship full of cannons.” Nobunaga said with a nod to her.

“Yes, that’s entirely too many large guns in too small an area for him to do anything but raise hell with with.” Sasuke said, a fleeting look of horror in eyes. “No. No it’s best not to think about these things.”

“Why squirrel, you should appreciate that I’ve turned my talents to peaceful ends.” Mitsuhide replied, throwing an affectionate arms over Sasuke’s shoulders.

“I’ll squirrel you!” Sasuke said in imitation of Ieyasu, whom he had been stalking all evening.

“I’m sure you will.” Mitsuhide responded with a soothing pat on the shoulders.

They laughed and drank the night away, and even he seemed a little tipsy as they staggered to their room, holding each other up.

She flung the door to the balcony open to let in the cold autumn breeze and sat shoulder to shoulder with him watching the moon peek out from between the clouds. “So, how much of that did you find out in advance?”

“Oh I gathered that you were bringing our friends here, but other than that– nice work. I don’t pay much attention to food or drink, so you chose a fine angle of attack.” He answered warmly, with a soft laugh. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“I’m just sorry that I made you worry that I was unhappy.” She answered, resting her cheek against the warm silk of his kimono, her head still swimming a little.

“I suppose I’ll always worry that you’re unhappy. But I trust you, even when it appears that you’re plotting something.”

“Plotting to make you happy can surely be forgiven, since you do it all the time.” She replied.

“I have no argument to that. You once told me I always smell of gunpowder and I thought you meant I always smell of death, back then.” He said, looking like a sculpture limned in moonlight in profile.

“No! It’s a scent that I love because it’s part of your scent. Besides, now you know that I thought it was a very romantic thing, even before we met. The freedom of thought and will to defy the times and go against the grain of society, what could be more attractive than that?” She asked, smiling up at him.

“Remind me to keep you away from Motonari.” He answered with an amused laugh as he turned to look at her.

“I know exactly where I want to be and with whom, never you fear.” She said.

“Thank you, my dear, for a most memorable birthday.” He said, leaning to kiss her forehead.

“Well, your birthday isn’t over yet, and neither are my plots fulfilled. Come to bed.” She said, as the wind lifted the hair from his brow and revealed the love light in his eyes when he looked down at her.

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen sasuke #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen masamune #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen hideyosh #sfw #fic req #thefoxesfic #mitsuhidexmc

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escapingreality1992 · 4 years

Text

Hoodies and Forever

Natasha x OC - Natasha is known for stealing everyone’s hoodies. She steals one of Erin’s to have her scent on her. After a stressful day, Nat invites Erin for a girls’ night. Erin likes Natasha and vice versa but Erin hasn’t had any experience dating women or seducing them. Nat teaches her a few things.

On a typical Saturday night, I found myself doing laundry; a movie on Netflix usually followed the night’s activities. That or sometimes I’d just want to curl up with a good book and read into the early morning despite training beginning at six in the morning per Captain Rogers’ orders.

I didn’t mind seeing as I got to see the world’s favorite redhead; Natasha Romanoff. My current crush at the precise moment. I loved the way her emerald eyes shone in the fluorescence of the room, relished in the way she moved when she fought; her partners varied from Steve to Bucky and of course her best friend Clint Barton. I was never lucky enough to train alongside her.

Fight with her, sure, but I still longed to spar with her. I longed to do “other” activities with her, but my experience with women was limited. Non-existent, actually. I hadn’t even been on a date with one let alone indulged in PDA or sex with one. I hadn’t expected to fall for Natasha, but surprise, surprise, I did.

I enjoyed her personality; tough, yet there was a softness, a vulnerability. She could be very nurturing if she wanted to be. Comforting, even. I say tough because she’s strong enough to not let enemies harm her or her “family”. She cared for those she had gotten to know throughout the years. To the world, she is Black Widow, a lethal assassin show saved the world from time to time. To the team of Avengers, she is simply Natasha, or Nat as we sometimes called her. She is the woman we all grew to love, me most of all. Not that she knew because I was too damn afraid of telling her.

I was afraid she’d reject me if she wasn’t interested. My fear was also that she wasn’t even into women, which could potentially kill me. I kept quiet because I didn’t know how she would view me if I confessed. While waiting for the laundry to get done, I sat in the living room, watching YouTube to keep myself entertained instead of cracking open a book I’d finish in one sitting and to not get frustrated having to put it down in between loads.

The others were out on the town, drinking or hanging out with each other. I got invited, of course, turning it down and sticking to my routine, especially since the clothes were piled into a mountain to my waist. That was three hours ago, and they still hadn’t returned, having too much fun without me. Now I was having regrets about turning the invitation down.

“Stupid laundry, stupid me sticking to a routine,” I mumbled to myself, clicking on yet another Book Tube video. I’d gotten into several creators who discussed books, seeking out recommendations since I through a lot of books myself.

“What did our clothes ever do to you?” a voice asked, making me jump as people walked through the front door. I turned to find Steve, Tony, Bucky, Clint, Thor and Natasha entering the compound.

Of course, they’d return while I complain over the chores, I thought.

“I mean, did they attack you while we were gone? It looked like they could with that huge mountain earlier,” Tony said, the source of who had spoken.

“Yes, Stark. They attacked me and it appeared I was no match for them. Would you like to take a stab at them?” I said, sarcasm dripping in my tone.

“Sheesh, you’d think someone who liked sticking to a routine would be nicer. Guess not,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe if people actually started doing their own laundry, I wouldn’t have to spend all day doing it,” I said, a little bitter with his comment.

“But you do such a great job with it, Erin. I’d hate to stop you now,”

“Okay, that’s it. I’ll throw you in one of those baskets with the mountain of clothes. Let’s see how you like it,” I snapped, launching myself at Tony.

“Hey, easy now Erin. No need to take out your frustration out on him. He’s only messing around with you. He wanted to see how you would react,” Steve said, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me away from Tony, who had stumbled back a few paces.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day,” I grumbled, relaxing in Steve’s arms.

“How about we have a girls’ night tomorrow. It’ll be just the two of us. Does that sound okay to you? You can come over. We can have pizza and brownies. Maybe a little wine,” Natasha said, the rasp capturing my attention. Though most everyone had rooms at the compound, there were some that elected not to stay there often; Natasha, being one of them, living in an apartment near the compound.

“Sounds like fun,” I answered, giving her a small smile. While Natasha and I hung out, we mainly invited Wanda and Carol along for some fun too. It had been quite some time since we had spent time alone and I was excited to have her attention solely to myself.

“Perfect. I expect you over around 8. I’ll get the pizza if you bring the brownies and wine,”

“Deal. Is that my hoodie?” I said. I’d been too distracted by Tony’s comments I hadn’t noticed Nat’s outfit; a black tank top and brown leather pants with beige booties. Over the tank, I recognized a hoodie I frequently wore on her petite figure. It was a zip up black hoodie that was super soft and super warm. It wasn’t rare to see her in someone else’s hoodie. She was known to take everyone’s hoodie around the compound, not bothering to ask or too lazy to grab one of hers. I hadn’t expected her to pick one of mine to wear.

A red hue spread over her cheeks at my question.

“Yes, sorry. I realized I had forgotten a jacket and yours happened to be laying on the couch as I walked downstairs. I grabbed it without thinking. Here, you can have it back,” she said, shrugging it off.

“Keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” I told her, before it made itself past her elbows. She grinned, scooping it back on her shoulders, shifting her long, auburn hair to where it lay against the black plush material.

“Anyway…how many loads do you have left to do?” Tony asked, breaking the subtle tension in the room.

“Three. Are you offering to help?” I said.

“Sure. Go get some rest. You’ve earned it,” he replied. I took up his advice and said my goodnights to the other before heading up to my room for some needed rest.

The next night at approximately 7 p.m. I admired myself in the full-length mirror next to my dresser. I had slipped on a burgundy sweater dress that was off shoulder. It was accompanied by midnight black legging and thigh high black boots with four-inch stiletto heels. I was going to wear a black leather jacket over the dress so I wouldn’t freeze going outside, my dark, wavy tresses coming rest just past my breasts.

I did my makeup with a burgundy eyeshadow, winged black eyeliner that made my grey eyes stand out and a pink lip gloss, making my full lips be on display. I felt I was a sight to behold. I headed downstairs to grab the bottle of wine and homemade brownies, which tasted rich and usually had people going back for more.

As I rounded the corner to the elevator which would take me to the garage, a low whistle sounded out. Turning, I noticed Bucky staring at me, his blue eyes looking me up and down.

“Damn, doll. You look stunning. I’m not sure Natasha will be able to keep her panties on,” he said, meeting my eyes.

“Who said anything about seducing Natasha? Maybe I’d like to seduce you,” I stated, being flirty with him.

“I’m not sure it’s me you want to flirt with. Everyone knows you like her. Everyone but Natasha,” he said, giving me a knowing look, which cause heat to flare against my skin.

“Everyone?” he nodded. “My outfit’s not too much is it? I could change…”

“It’s perfect. Erin, for what it’s worth, I think she likes you too. Why do you think she stole your hoodie?” Bucky replied.

“She steals everyone’s hoodies. I wouldn’t blame her. They’re super comfortable,” I said, pressing the button to go down.

“Yours she took to have your scent on her. Good luck, Erin,” he stated as the elevator doors opened. Stepping in, I waited for three floors to drop, soaking in his words. I grabbed the keys to my trusty Honda and walked to where it was parked, climbing in and driving over to Natasha’s apartment.

“You’re telling me you haven’t walked in on any of the guys naked? Never?” Nat asked, incredulity in her voice.

“No, never. I’ve been lucky in that department so far,”

“But you live there. I would have thought you might have seen one of them naked,”

“Nope. It’s almost like they’re actively trying not to have that happen. The only thing I’ve witnessed is Thor without a shirt on, as well as Steve and Bucky. I don’t think Thor likes shirts. He probably wears them only when he has to,” I said, grabbing another brownie.

“Do you have a crush on any of them?” she asked me.

“No, though of all of them, I’d probably go for Bucky,” I said.

“Ah. You’ve got a thing for metal arms, I see,” she teased.

“No, he’s really sweet and he likes dancing, so that’s a plus,” I replied, earning a laugh from her.

“So, you like someone who can dance. I never would’ve guessed it,”

“I wonder if I’m an old soul in a young person’s body with all I like or do. Turns out I’m a sucker for slow dancing,” I stated.

“That’s not the worst thing in the world,” Natasha said, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. Silence filled the apartment; perhaps we were nervous…maybe I was. I wouldn’t have an insight on Natasha’s feelings because I wasn’t her.

Imagine the surprise I felt when she leaned in and kissed my lips. She tasted delicious, the sweetness from the wine and the brownies mixed well. I suppose my insecurities got the best of me as she pulled back.

“Natasha…” I said, not knowing what else to make of what happened.

“I’m sorry. Do you…Did I make a mistake? Do you not want this? Are you not attracted to me?” She said, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

“That’s not it. I want this. I want you. It’s just…I haven’t ever been with a woman,” I replied.

“Oh. That’s not a problem. I can work with that. So, you haven’t had sex-,”

“No, Natasha. I haven’t been with a woman. Sex or dating. I’m afraid I’m inexperienced on both parts,” I cut her off, glancing down at my hands, embarrassed.

“Erin, it’s okay. I can work with this. Lucky for you, I know a few things about seducing women and I’m sure dating shouldn’t be an issue,” Nat said, lifting my head up with a hand. She kissed me again, soft, gentle, almost as if asking permission to continue. I gave in, kissing her back even as she licked my lips for entrance to my mouth. My lips parted open to allow her tongue to slip in. She pulled herself closer, pushing off my leather jacket, showing off my shoulders. Moving her lips, she pressed her mouth to my neck, sucking on a spot; a soft moan escaped my lips.

She shifted our bodies to lie flat on the large couch. She tugged down the sleeves of my sweater dress to let it rest on my hips.

“Are you okay? Tell me if you want to stop,” she said.

“I’m fine. Don’t stop,”

“Alright. May I remove your bra?” she said, still cautious about my boundaries.

“Yes, you may take it off,” I assured her, lifting up so she could reach around and unclasp it. She pulled it from my chest, dropping it to the floor where my jacket lay. She traced a circle around one breast, the pad of her thumb toying with my nipple. I released a pleasurable sight at the touch, gasping when her mouth pressed against my chest. Her tongue made quick swiped over the nipple, one hand kneading the other breast. She repeated the same motions on the neglected breast trailing kisses to my belly button.

Natasha pulled the rest of the dress off, followed by the leggings and my panties; I was now fully naked before her. She spread my legs, her fingers approaching my center.

“Nat…” I said, looking down at her.

“Relax,” she told me, the sultry rasp sending tingles through my body, the domination in her tone arousing me. It was enough for me to spread wider for her; she stroked my folds and I let out a moan, which only increased in volume when she inserted a finger, then another, stretching me with a third. She pumped in and out slowly, increasing her pace as time went on.

My orgasm built, threatening to break until she removed her fingers, eliciting a whimper from me.

“Not yet. I want a taste,” she said, lowering her mouth to my core. The second her tongue licked me, I released a guttural moan, my thighs quivering, head back and I arched into her. She sucked and licked, my orgasm on edge. Until I couldn’t hold back anymore. The dam broke and Natasha took in all of it, cleaning me up before coming back up to kiss me.

“It’s my turn. Don’t worry. I’ll guide you,” she said, stripping down. She pulled me up and on top of her, kissing me, out tongues tangling together. I repeated the same things she’d done to my chest, her nails digging into my skin. She lifted one of hands and guided it to her thighs, spreading them and moving my fingers to the right spots.

I did my best to pleasure her, which appeared to be working as she moaned with each touch. I pushed her to the edge, removing my fingers and letting my mouth do the rest of the work. She came undone, a loud moan pouring out of her mouth. I kissed her when she finished and linked our hands.

“Not bad. Want to get more practice in the bedroom?” she said. I nodded and we walked down the hall to her room to play and kiss until the morning light, ending up in each other’s arms, my head on her chest, our legs entangled.

“Erin?” Natasha asked, stroking my hair.

“Hmm?”

“Is it too early to ask you to be my girlfriend? I’m aware we haven’t gone on a date, but I don’t want to lose the chance to claim you as mine,” she said.

“No, it’s not too early at all. We can go on our first date tomorrow night. For now, I want to cuddle,” I answered, burying myself as close I could.

“For how long?” she asked.

“Forever,” I said. Natasha kissed the top of my head and we both fell asleep, dreaming of a future where we’d never be apart.

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