#back when I made this I had a ton of thoughts about how wildly unfair Miyabi’s original arc was | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jungshookz · 3 years

Note

cee cee i have an idea!!! what about Cool and Cultured bookshop owner! tae and dorky y/n walking past the store everyday and one day goes in and strikes a conversation about a fancy book like catcher in the rye and talks about the symbolism of rye in the book and tae's like :0 das wildly inaccurate but you're kinda cute so here's my number so we can talk more about rye and y/ns like :0

➺ pairing; kim taehyung x reader

➺ genre; wowowow handsome & well-read bookkeeper!taehyung, fluff!!!! the kind of fluff that makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket sipping on a mug of hot chocolate on a nice autumn’s day when the leaves are just starting to turn red and orange, y/n’s kind of a dummy but in a very loveable kind of way, featuring namjoon the (sort of) wingman

➺ wordcount; 6.2k

➺ summary; the catcher in the rye? oh, sure - of course you know that book! it’s about catching loaves of bread, right?

➺ what to expect; “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

➺ note; our (first??) drabble of the month as voted by you guys! i finished writing this the day after it was decided that bookkeeper!tae was the winner because that’s how excited i was about him >:-) enjoy!

»»————-　➴　————-««

“and… open your eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air excitedly as namjoon takes his hands away from his eyes

he blinks owlishly before looking up and-

“you brought me to a bookstore!” he gasps, a smile immediately spreading over his features as he claps his hands together, “oh, this is great! usually, you bring me to those awful rock-climbing places, or that horribly violent paintball gun place, and even when you brought me to the movie theatre the tickets were for that gory r-rated horror movie-”

“okay, let’s not get carried away-” you hold a finger out to shut namjoon up before he can list out moRe reasons as to why you seem more like you hate him instead of love him, “the point is: this time, i brought you to a bookstore!” you smile proudly before crossing your arms

not to toot your own horn or anything but you did a pretty good job with this surprise

you even did tons of research to find the best bookstores in the city!!

which was difficult because namjoon’s been to like.,,. EVERY bookstore in the city

but not this one!

to be fair, it was a long forty-five minute car ride to get here so you understand why he’s never come out here himself

“…this isn’t like… a weird bookstore or anything, right?” namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before taking a step back and looking up at the name of the store again

the secret garden

oh!!!!

like the book!!!!

how clever :D

“what do you mean?” you frown, placing your hands on your hips before glancing back up at the name as well

the secret garden

kind of a lame name for a bookstore

“like a…” namjoon trails off before clearing his throat, “you know, like a bookstore that’s actually a sex dungeon or something like that-”

“ew!” you immediately make a face before shaking your head quickly, “wha- why would you even say that?!”

“well, i don’t know!” namjoon holds his hands up in defence, “i’ve never been to this bookstore before-!”

“this is a regular ol’ bookstore, joon. i promise!” you clap your hands on his shoulders before giving him a squeeze, “just the way you like it! old, dusty, and full of nothing but boring books.”

namjoon beams

that’s exactly what he likes to hear

see, today is your seven year friendaversary with namjoon

you guys have known each other since middle school and noW the two of you are in your final year of university which is crazy

and so, for the past seven years, you’ve gone out on this day to celebrate your beautiful friendship because honestly you’ll take whatever excuse to go to a restaurant to try to get free dessert (“yeah, we’re celebrating our anniversary! so, i’ll take three orders of your chocolate lava cake-”)

you guys usually take turns where one year one of you will plan an entire day of fun activities for the other, and then the next year, the other person will do it because that seems like a relatively fair system

last year, namjoon took you to this cute pottery place and you ended up making these adorable matching friendship mugs

they’re both a little lopsided but that’s just part of their charm!!

namjoon painted his a beige-brown and you painted yours a BRIGHT purple and then you traded mugs (so that when he comes over to your apartment, he has his mug, and when you go over to his apartment, you have your mug!)

he also insisted that you guys carve your guys’ initials on the bottom of yours and draw a heart around it which you thought was a little much but you are… very fond of namjoon so you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to

admittedly, most of the things that you’ve planned during your years have been catered to your own personal desires so you’ve been a little unfair but namjoon’s always been too much of a sweetheart to say anything about it

and for the most part, he’s a pretty good sport even though it’s blatantly obvious that he’d rather chop a toe off than spend the afternoon doing your chosen activity

the last time it was your turn two years ago, you took him to a go-cart track and spent the entire two hours practically driving circles around him because he was driving like ten kilometres an hour

the only reason why he wasn’t driving like one is supposed to drive on a go-cart track (i.e. like a maniac) is because he was worried that if he went too fast he’d get a ticket or something

and kim namjoon does not get speeding tickets

not on the real road and most certainly not on a man-made road either!

for the record, he definitely didn’t appreciate you calling him a slowpoke and telling him to eat my dust, bitch! and he still brings it up from time to time whenever he wants to guilt you into doing something with him (“i’m not switching muffins with you. it’s not my fault you don’t like yours!” “…hey, remember that time you called me a slowpoke and told me to-” “take the muffin.”)

anyways

he’s glad that this is just a normal bookstore and that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not one of your activities is going to end in him losing a limb for the first time

what a wonderful way to end the day!!

actually, you guys still have to grab dinner after this where you’ll try to squeeze as many free desserts out of the restaurant as possible as per usual so this is a wonderful way to almost end the day

the little bell hanging above the door chimes as the two of you step in and almost immediately you’re greeted with the warm smell of what you’re pretty sure is hot chocolate??

“i love this place already.” namjoon breathes out, his jaw dropping in awe, “i wanna live here!”

“okay, keep it in your pants-” the door starts to shut and you nudge namjoon forward to keep from getting your butt nipped by the door

you don’t even get a chance to say anything else before namjoon suddenly darts off

so much for keeping it in his pants

you pause when you get a good look at the place

huh

for some reason you feel like a lot of instagram pictures have been taken here

it’s obviously an antique place but it’s like one of those trendy antique places

a brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the (fake) candles casting a golden glow over the entire store

there’s a spiral staircase that curls up to the second floor

the walls are covered with floor to ceiling shelves stacked with, duh, books, but even for what you thought would just be a dusty old bookstore… it’s pretty nice in here!

there’s even an archway in the centre of the place that leads to what looks like a pretty cozy reading space for customers which is a nice touch

and there are people sipping on mugs of hot chocolate too!!!

you can’t help but wonder if you need to be reading a book in order to get a mug of cocoa

you like the hot chocolate part but you’re not as excited about the reading part

“y/n, come on!” you look over to see namjoon - who already has three books cradled in his arms - waving you over enthusiastically, “check it out! it’s a vintage boxed set of the chronicle of narnia series! and they’re leatherbound-“ he practically moans before nudging you towards it, “help me take it out?”

“narnia?” you snort, tilting your head so you can look at the titles pressed into the spine of the book, “isn’t narnia, like… for kids?”

the last time you read the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe was when you had to read it for a book report in like the fourth grade

you glance over your shoulder to look at namjoon who now has an unimpressed frown on his face

“what??”

“…you insult me.” he sniffles, “just help!”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to pull the thick set out of the shelf and-

“hello!”

“-!”

the sudden sound of a stranger’s voice nearly makes you drop the set but you manage to prop the edge of the box back up onto the shelf before it falls and breaks all the bones in your foot

you turn to look at whoever-

oh my

hello indeed

“welcome to the secret garden.” he smiles kindly, tilting his head at you, “did you need any help with that, miss?”

oh good god

his voice makes you feel like you’re wading through a river of warm caramel

and you’d happily let yourself drown in that river

two seconds go by where you don’t respond at all and instead you continue staring at mr. caramel with very obvious hubba-hubba eyes

“i think we’re good, thank you!” namjoon clears his throat, elbowing your back gently before offering a smile of his own

“oh, alright! well, my name’s taehyung,” taehyung reaches up to adjust his glasses, “please let me know if you need assistance of any kind - i’ll just be up at the front. if you’re just here to relax and read, i’d be happy to whip up two mugs of hot chocolate for the two of you!”

“awesome! thank you.” namjoon nods all while you continue smiling at taehyung dazedly

he waits until taehyung disappears before turning back and looking at you

“…what’s wrong with you?”

“i’m good, thank you…” you whisper your very delayed response and namjoon moves his head so that he’s blocking your view when you lean back a little to try to look at taehyung sitting behind the front counter, “holy moly. i’d let him explore my secret garden-”

“oh, now look who can’t keep it in their pants-“

“hey, you should look at this as a good thing!” you grunt as you adjust the hefty box in your arms, “now i’ll willingly drive you back here… whenever you want.”

namjoon’s eyes immediately light up

»»————-　➴　————-««

you and namjoon end up returning to the bookstore about two weeks later

last time, namjoon wanted to stay longer (and so did you, honestly) buT you were pretty close to losing your dinner reservations and you weren’t about to give up your free chocolate lava cake just to stare at the cute bookkeeper from afar like a creep

so you had to leave!

namjoon ended up leaving with the boxed set and a couple other books so suffice to say, he was pretty happy

and when you suggested visiting the bookstore again this week… well, namjoon had to jump on that opportunity, didn’t he??

you?? offering to take him to a bookstore?? again??

you’re obviously only using him as an excuse to go into the bookstore so you can spend hours watching taehyung like a weirdo but he’ll take it

namjoon hums happily as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate before licking a little bit of whipped cream off his top lip

he wonders if taehyung would be willing to share the recipe to it because this is honestly the best hot chocolate he’s ever had

namjoon looks up from his book when he hears you let out a sigh for the tenth time in the last two minutes

oh god

look at you!

“oh… and he’s good with kids, too?” you sigh blissfully as you prop your elbow up on the arm of the sofa chair before leaning your cheek against your fist

you watch fondly as taehyung gets down on one knee, holding two fists out for a little girl

she taps his right hand shyly before quickly wrapping her arms back around her mom’s leg, peeking at him from behind it shyly

taehyung flips his wrist around and uncurls his fingers to reveal a single caramel, his face lighting up briefly as she takes it from his open palm into her little hand

“i don’t know why you can’t just go up and talk to him-” namjoon snorts at how lovestruck you look before peering around the corner of the archway to look at taehyung too, “it’s not a big deal. he’s really nice!”

“i can’t just go up and talk to him. are you kidding me?” you frown, shaking your head, “what am i supposed to say??”

“tell him you need help finding a book!” namjoon states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world (because it is) before slapping the book on his lap shut, “just out of curiosity - what book would you ask him to help you find?”

you lean back against the sofa chair before twisting your lips in thought

book?

what book…

what was the last book you read…?

ooh!

“esio trot!” you perk up, namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion because he has no idea what just came out of your mouth-

“esio- oh my god, esio trot as in the roald dahl children’s novel??” namjoon frowns, “no! you can’t go up to taehyung and ask him to help you find esio friggin’ trot-”

“okay, you don’t see me making fun of you for buying what you bought last week, mr. chronicles of narnia-”

“you did make fun of me!” namjoon gawks, “in fact, you’re still making fun of me for it-” he waves his hand to cease the conversation, “listen to me. from the very few times that i’ve spoken to taehyung, it’s clear that he’s… cultured, you know?”

“cultured… like yogurt.” you joke, slapping your own knee gently, “get it?? because yogurt is cultured? cultured yogurt??”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes

see?

this is exactly what he’s talking about

“…yes, y/n. i get it. anyways, as i was saying- taehyung is just very…” namjoon kisses his teeth as he tries to think of how to phrase his words, “…well-read… intelligent… scholarly… refined…”

you tilt your head in curiosity as namjoon continues listing out a bunch of snooty sounding adjectives

wait a minute

“are you-” you scoff, straightening up in your seat, “are you calling me dumb??”

hey!!

you’re not dumb!!!

it’s not like books are super complicated to figure out or anything

all you have to do is read what’s inside of it and you certainly know how to read!!!

and sure, sometimes you still don’t know if receive is spelt receive or recieve or if business is spelt buisness or biusness, but that doesn’t mean that you’re dumb!!

“no, no, i’m not calling you dumb!” namjoon shakes his head quickly, “i’m just saying that if you had a choice, you would choose a movie over a book-”

“well, yeah - obviously i would choose a movie over a book.” you snort, “why would i waste eight hours reading tiny little words on stiff white pages when i could be watching a movie that compresses the entire story in a convenient one hour and a half??”

“i’m your friend, and i don’t want to watch you make a fool of yourself!” namjoon argues, “because if you do, then you’ll be too embarrassed to ever come back here again, which means that i’ll never be able to come back here again-”

“what’s stopping you from coming here by yourself?”

“because every time i tell you that i’m going to the bookstore, you’re going to ask me a bunch of taehyung related questions when i get back-”

okay

that’s a fair point

that sounds like something you would do for sure

“alright, fine!” you huff before crossing your arms, “what book do you suggest i go up there and ask him to help me find?”

namjoon twists his lips in thought

hm…

“catch her in the eye!” you chirp, folding your hands behind you book as you smile brightly at taehyung

namjoon feels his own face flush at how confidently you just said that and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaMING

he told you to ask taehyung to help you find the catcher in the rye

NOT CATCH HER IN THE EYE

“the catcher in the rye?” taehyung nods, “sure! of course i can help you find the catcher in the rye.” he returns a smile as he steps out from behind the counter, “follow me, please!”

you shoot namjoon a big thumbs up and a faT grin as you pass by the entrance of the archway and he gives you a weak one in return before turning back and slumping against the couch

oh boy

…he’s never going to come back to this beautiful bookstore, is he?

“you were here about two weeks ago, weren’t you?” taehyung asks as he looks over his shoulder, the two of you trotting up the spiral staircase, “with your… boyfriend, right? you guys bought the boxed narnia set.”

“hm? oh!” you let out a little laugh, “yes, that was us, but joon- namjoon’s just my friend. um, that day was actually our seven-year friendaversary and he’s a real dork for books so i thought it’d be nice to bring him here-”

it’s in that moment that you suddenly hear namjoon’s voice in your head reminding you that you’re supposed to act like yoU like reading too

“i mean-” you clear your throat, “i, too, really like books, so i- you know, it was a mutually pleasant experience for the both of us t-to be here-” you chuckle nervously

hopefully you were able to save your own ass there

that was a close call!!

you trail behind taehyung as the two of you weave in and out of the bookshelves

you didn’t get a chance to come up to the second floor last week

but it’s surprisingly nice up here!!

there’s a lone sofa chair in the corner with a little coffee table sitting next to it

very nice for customers who prefer to read alone

“ah, well, that’s very thoughtful of you!” taehyung nods before suddenly pausing, “i’m so sorry-” he spins around and you nearly bump into his chest but you manage to stop yourself just in time, “i just realised i never got your name.”

“y/n. i’m- i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out quickly for him to shake

you feel a little zap! travel from your fingertips to the rest of your body as soon as taehyung takes your hand in his

he gives you a gentle shake before squeezing your hand lightly and then letting go, “well, it’s very nice to meet you, y/n. now, give me a second to find the catcher in the rye for you…”

taehyung turns to thumb through the books on the shelf and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as how pretty he looks from the side

wowie

you can’t help but take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you continue to admire taehyung’s features from the soft swoosh of his hair to the rosy pink of his lips

how can one man be so pretty?

“ah- here we are!” taehyung pulls a book out of the shelf and you quickly snap yourself out of your daze, “the catcher in the rye… a novel by j.d. salinger.” he hands it to you and you take it before blinking down at the cover

…the catcher in the rye?

what happened to catch her in the eye???

“it’s a great book.” taehyung hums, “have you read it before?”

“oh, i… i have!” you scoff, making a face, “duh, of course i have. i mean, it’s… you know, it’s such a… um, a powerful novel…” you clear your throat before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “i mean, the last time i read it was actually in… high school… so… you know, i’ve forgotten most of the details but i figured it’d be nice to get a refresher, you know?”

(you never read this in high school.)

((you just made namjoon summarise the entire book to you in the form of a poorly drawn stickman comic and even then you still didn’t fully understand the story.))

“absolutely! there’s nothing wrong with revisiting old friend from the past,” taehyung chuckles lightly, “in fact, i was reading animal farm the other day- what kind of literature do you typically read?”

you press your lips together tightly

oh god

namjoon didn’t prepare you for additional questions

literature??

quick!

what kind of literature do you typically read??

…

tell him you read all kinds of literature!

that sounds like a legitimate answer, right?

“i... read… all-”

you’re cut off by the sound of a bell chiming from below and you let out a breath of relief when taehyung scurries past you to peer over the balcony

“i’ll be right there!” he holds a finger up at the customer waiting by the front counter before spinning around to face you again, “was there anything else you needed, y/n?”

“wha- i-” you stammer, unable to come up with a non-creepy reason to keep him up here with you, “no! no, this was-” you give the front cover a hearty slap, “this was all i needed-”

“perfect!” taehyung claps his hands together, “well, let me know. you know where i am!”

he disappears down the staircase before you even get a chance to thank him

the smell of his cologne lingers in the air as you make your way down the staircase and you can’t help but beat yourself up over how your interaction with taehyung went

it wasn’t a bad interaction or anything

in fact, you think you did a pretty good job at acting like a bookworm!!

it’s just that…

you don’t think it was a particularly memorable interaction for taehyung

that was just a typical customer interaction for him

you were supposed to charm him!!!

impress him!!

sweep him off his feet!!!

tickle his brain!!

“hey, buddy…” namjoon coos as you plop back down on the sofa chair, “how… did it go?”

he’s afraid to hear your answer because it certainly looks like it didn’t go super well

damnit

he knows this moment is about you but now he’s thinking about how he’ll probably never be able to taste this delicious hot chocolate ever again

“got the book.” you grumble, tossing it onto the coffee table before shaking your head, “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

“yeah, i… uh, i heard you.” namjoon nods understandingly, crossing one leg over the other before leaning back against the couch, “i don’t think he heard you say that, though! i mean, he knew what you were looking for right away.”

namjoon knows you well enough to see that you’re currently spiralling down a self-pity hole right now

oh boy

“hey, you know what’ll make you feel better?” he leans forward to give your knee a comforting squeeze

“what?”

“how about i buy this for you so you can read it and fully impress taehyung next time with your newfound knowledge-“ namjoon points to the book you’ve abandoned on the table, “and then we can go for chocolate lava cake!”

your eyes widen slightly

“free chocolate lava cake?”

“no, not free-“ namjoon snorts, getting up from the couch before reaching back to pick up his bag, “i mean, i’ll pay for it. my treat! so, yeah. i guess it’s kinda free for you.”

“that sounds nice!” your frown is almost instantaneously replaced by a grin, “if i get more free things from you just for being sad, i’m going to be sad more often-”

“what?? no! do not pretend to be sad just to get me to pay for things-”

taehyung glances over from the front counter when he hears a twinkly laugh and he can’t help but smile lightly at the sight of you giggling away in the sofa chair

your nose scrunches slightly as you let out a little snort and he presses his lips together to keep himself from beaming too wide

y/n, huh? cute.

»»————-　➴　————-««

(taehyung can’t stop thinking about you and your absurdly cute face.)

»»————-　➴　————-««

it’s another two weeks later that you come back to the secret garden - but this time, you come alone.

and to be honest, you… don’t know if this was a good idea or not

because joon was with you for the last two times and you were definitely using him as a security blanket so now you feel like you’re about to dive into the deep end of the pool without any floaties

you were going to ask if he wanted to come with you but you felt like this was something that you had to do alone

you swallow thickly as you tuck your car keys into your pocket

namjoon can’t be your bookworm wingman forever, right?

the store is almost suspiciously quiet as you step in, the little bell ringing above your head as per usual

your classes ended a little later today which is why you weren’t able to come in the afternoon

pluS you had to find a way to get namjoon to go home without you without raising any eyebrows so that sucked up a little more of your time

you were going to tell him that you were going to stay on campus to study at the library but even you couldn’t believe that

so you told him that you had a group project to work on which was why you couldn’t have dinner with him tonight!

you jump in surprise when the door suddenly slams shut behind you from the breeze

it’s a little chillier now that it’s november but it’s nice that you get to wear cozy cardigans and snuggly sweaters now

“i’ll be right there!”

you hear taehyung’s voice ring out from the second floor and you swallow your nerves as you stand up a little straighter

fake it till you make it, right?

i love books

i love books so much

i love books so much that i would fuck a book if i could!

...okay, maybe not that one.

you glance around the store - there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here

which makes sense because the sign says that the store closes at 7pm on weekdays and it’s…

6:50

wow

so you’RE the asshole who comes into the place ten minutes before closing time

good one!

“so sorry for the wait, i was just-” taehyung pauses on the steps, his face immediately lighting up when he sees you, “oh, y/n!”

“hi!” you chirp before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “sorry i came ten minutes before you’re supposed to close… i wanted to come earlier, but i had a thing…”

“oh, don’t even worry about it!” taehyung snorts, tossing the dirty rag over his shoulder, “i was just doing some dusting…”

you feel your mouth go drY as soon as you notice what he’s wearing

he’s wearing a henley tee (except all the buttons are undone and aLso he has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows), dark wash jeans, and a pair of tattered black converse sneakers

it’s just the casualness of it all that makes it so sexy

“so, what can i help you with tonight?” taehyung tosses the rag onto the counter before pushing his glasses back down from the top of his head

he adjusts them slightly before blinking at you and you find it awfully cute that his doe eyes now look a little bigger through the thick lenses

what can he help you with tonight?

…yeah, what can he help you with tonight?

the downside of not telling namjoon about your solo mission is the fact that namjoon’s usually the one who plans every little detail out for you

and you just came here on a whim

you don’t have a plan

you don’t have a plan at all!

your plan was to just come to the bookstore to see taehyung because you wanted to see taehyung

“i…”

“oh, by the way-” taehyung perks up suddenly, “how was your little trip down memory lane with the catcher in the rye?”

the catcher in the rye?

the catcher in the rye!!!

ah! yes!!

that’s definitely something to talk about!

…wait a second

you-

you didn’t read the book

oh god

you had two weeks to read the book and you didn’t read the book

almost immediately you feel your anxiety sPike back up and you can’t help but scold yourself for not bringing namjoon along with you

if namjoon was here, you’d just get him to say all the main points and you’d stand right next to him throwing in the occasional ‘yes, very good point!’ and ‘of course, i completely agree’ every now and then!

“the catcher in the rye!” you blurt out, suddenly aware that you haven’t spoken in like ten seconds, “i- yes! the book was- it was great. i thoroughly enjoyed it. i would definitely read it again!”

“hey, that’s great!” taehyung laughs lightly, “you know- i mean, i have to ask because i always ask this question to people who’ve read it- what do you think the main theme of it is?” taehyung hums, “because i’ve always thought it focused a lot on alienation, you know? i mean, a loss of innocence is obviously another theme, what, with holden wanting to be sheltered from the harshness of adult life- i really think it can actually be seen as some kind of social commentary… like a critique of the superficiality in society-”

“of course, i completely agree!” you nod furiously, “those are very good points-”

“i’m sorry, i’m probably sucking up all the oxygen in the room-” taehyung smiles sheepishly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “so what do you think?”

if there was ever a moment for a black hole to appear in the floor and swallow you whole… you’d want for it to happen right now.

actually, you’d want it for it to happen whilst you were driving to the bookstore so that you wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to say hi to taehyung

“i think… well, i… first of all, i agree completely with everything that you just said about aliens and… you know, a loss of innocence and how hard adult life is…” you stumble over your words, your face beginning to flush from how idiotic you probably sound, “i just… i have to talk about my favourite part in the book! you know, the part where holden- holden, that’s the name that you just mentioned- he… he does such a great job at catching those loaves of bread. i thought that part was hilarious.”

you clear your throat at the end of your mini-review

taehyung’s eyes flicker slightly and for a second you think you’re in danger of being called out for obviously noT having read the book but…

he nods slowly and brings his hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, “i mean… yeah. i completely agree! that part always gets me! why don’t you go on? i’m interested in hearing more of your thoughts.”

oh!

hey, would you look at that??

phEW

maybe you’re better at improvising than you thought you were

now knowing that you’re on the right track gives you a booST of confidence and you give yourself a mental pat on the back

you can’t wait to tell namjoon about this

he’s going to be so proud of you!!

you grin before nodding enthusiastically, “of course! i have a lot of thoughts to share on the book. i mean, i personally think it was an interesting choice on the author’s part to choose rye as the main ingredient, because he had… so many other options that he could’ve gone with! and also - did he go with light rye or dark rye?? because throughout the entire novel, he never actually specifies what kind of rye bread he’s referring to-”

taehyung leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, smiling politely as he continues to listen to your rye bread rant

it’s obvious that you definitely didn’t read the book but he was genuinely curious as to what you would be able to pull out of your ass which was why he asked you to go on

he doesn’t think anyone’s ever gone into a full-blown ramble about how the catcher in the rye is actually a narrative on the benefits on rye bread for lil ol’ him before

but, for the record…

it’s really cute how much effort you’re putting into your analysis to try to impress him

“i’m sorry, i need to- i need to interrupt you-” taehyung giggles, cutting you off right as you’re about to dive into a discussion about the number of loaves holden caught in the novel, “as much as i would love to hear more… everything that’s coming out of your mouth is wildly inaccurate, y/n.”

what

...

oh my god.

“wh-” your throat goes dry and you choke a little, “what?”

“be honest- did you read the book?” taehyung asks flat-out and you feel your cheeks burning up again

uh-oh

“i…”

okay

forget it

you can’t do this anymore!

it’s too stressful!!!!

“…no.” you press your lips together before shooting taehyung a sheepish grin, “there’s no catching loaves of bread in the novel, is there?”

“not even one loaf.”

“oh, god-” you groan quietly, reaching up to cover your hot face with your hands at the realisation that you just very confidently ranted about the importance of rye bread in this novel for the past five minutes, “not even one?!”

mortifying!

absolutely mortifying!!!!

well

it’s time to tell namjoon to find a new favourite bookstore because you are nevER bringing him back here agai-

“hey, it’s totally fine!” taehyung laughs lightly, stepping closer to you so that he can pry your hands away from your flushed face, “i actually think it’s really impressive how long you can go talking about bread-”

“you let me- you knew that i hadn’t read the book yet you let me continue talking about bread-?!” you gawk, taehyung now bursting into a full-blown chortle as he throws his head back, “how could you??”

“i couldn’t help it!!” taehyung wheezes, reaching up to flick a stray tear away, “i’m sorry! i’m sorry, really, i am-”

even when he’s laughing at you, your stomach can’t help but feel fluttery

“you’re lucky you’re pretty-” you snort, shaking your head gently, “otherwise i would be way more mad at you…”

taehyung’s laughs dwindle down into light chuckles and you swallow thickly when he takes a small step closer

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he retorts playfully, reaching over to move a strand of hair away from your eyes with his pinky finger, “otherwise i wouldn’t have let you talk my ear off about bread for five whole minutes…”

...he thinks you’re pretty?

“oh yeah?” you challenge, reaching over to jab your finger into his chest

taehyung reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist before offering you a particularly boyish smirk, “mm, yeah.”

you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second and you know it’s way too soon but you really want him to just lean down and kiss you…

“hey, do you like dessert?” taehyung pulls away suddenly before turning to make his way behind the counter

“de- dessert?” you ask dumbly, still a little dazed from... that

what was that?!

“mhm!” tae leans down slightly and flips a couple of switches underneath the counter, the chandelier light shutting off first before the other little lights begin to switch off as well, “there’s a little diner about a block away that makes really good strawberry cheesecakes.”

“i love dessert!” you nod, “and strawberry cheesecake sounds really yummy.”

“good! in that case, would you be interested in sharing a slice of cheesecake with me and perhaps delving deeper into your rye-based analysis?” taehyung teases as he grabs his coat off the back of his chair, his keys jingling in his hands

you snort lightly

“i would love to share a slice of cheesecake with you but i refuse to embarrass myself further, so we’re going to have to find something else to talk about-”

taehyung holds the door open for you and you immediately shiver as you step out, the chilly air a stark contrast from the warmth of tae’s cozy store

you jolt in surprise when taehyung reaches down and slips his fingers in between yours (which he later explains he only did because his hand was cold and definitely noT because he just really really wanted to hold your hand) before beginning to tug you along next to him

“well, we can talk about the fact that you thought the name of the book was catch her in the eye-”

“i knew you heard me! i knew it!!”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

491 notes · View notes

tf2-hellhole · 3 years

Note

Hey could you do a soul mate au thing where the mercs find out their soul mate is the new recruit? Love your work btw ^^

I decided to do a different AU for each class group.

Offense: First skin-to-skin touch leaves a dark patch where they touched

Defense: Name of soulmate is tattooed on wrist

Support: Red string connected to each other’s pinkies (I like to imagine these strings magically never tangle, and will stretch or shrink based on how far apart the soulmates are, so that’s incorporated there)

Btw I assumed that the recruit is single and the merc already knows when they find out they’re soulmates

Scout:

Before he knew you were his soulmate, he’d always wanted to find you; since all of his past relationships have been pretty emotionally empty, he fantasizes about finding a soulmate who really loves him and spends tons of time with him. When he was little he’d always tell his mom he’d go out and find you.

You two find out during one of your first training sessions. Some of the other mercs are working out while you and Scout sit side by side, taking a short break together.

At some point, Heavy trips and falls flat on his face. Scout starts giggling like a little kid and nudges your arm with his to turn your attention towards the merc. You spend a few minutes laughing about it and cooling down.

Eventually, Soldier tells Scout to get up, and he obeys with a groan. But as soon as you notice the mark on his arm, you cry out and grab his hand. He turns around, about to ask what the problem is, but his eyes go as wide as yours as he notices the mark on the side of your arm, then pulls his skin so he can see the matching one on his.

He turns into a blushing, stuttering mess, and can’t focus on his training. He pulls you into a deep hug and exclaims how happy he is that he found you.

Once the initial shock is gone, he’s gonna brag to everyone on the team about finding his soulmate. Some are happy, some are annoyed. Spy acts like he’s super annoyed but internally he’s so happy Scout found you. Next time he’s allowed to use the phone, he excitedly calls his mom to tell her.

Soldier:

You’d expect him to be the type to insist that he’ll find you, but surprisingly, he isn’t. Soldier’s never been a person who expected to find his soulmate, so he basically stopped thinking about it. Sometimes he’s a little sad about not having found you, but generally he doesn’t mind or care because he’s given up hope. He still wonders what you look like though, even though he’s convinced he won’t find you.

Your first touch happens at a training session, but it’s not your first; You’ve already been to a few. At some point, Demo, who’s drunk off his ass, accidentally fires several pills all over the place, one landing at your feet.

Soldier quickly reaches out to grab your arm and pull you out of the way. Once he’s sure you’re fine, he lifts a hand to start scolding you, but cries out in surprise when he sees the black mark covering his palm and going up to the pads of his fingers, then looks down to see the hand-shaped mark around your arm.

You were already shocked when you saw the marks, but you were even more surprised by how Soldier was shocked into silence as he wrapped his head around the fact that you’re his soulmate.

But after a moment, a big smile spreads across his face, and he scoops you up into a bone-crushing hug, exclaiming excitedly that you’re his soulmate.

Like Scout, he’s going to run around and tell everyone he found you, but Soldier makes sure to drag you by the hand along with him. You bet your ass he’s gonna tell the opposite team Demo and Ms. Pauling as soon as he can, too.

Pyro:

(Features by Pyro burn scar headcanon)

Pyro’s always been a person who dreamed of finding you, but they never thought they ever would. Sometimes they get a little sad about not having found you, but they still hope that someday, somehow, they’ll get lucky.

When you two found out, you had been friends for a very, very long time, and Pyro finally trusted you enough to take their suit off in front of you and show you their face. They were obviously anxious about it, as they were worried about how you’d react to their scars, and it made you feel bad. Once they came back into the room in some normal, casual clothing, you smiled and reached out to take their hand and pull them into a tight hug, which they accepted happily. You assured them that you accepted them and cared for them despite their scars, and that they weren’t ugly at all.

Once you two separated, Pyro gasped and grabbed your hand again. You were about to ask what was wrong, but they turned your hand upward along with theirs. You saw what they were trying to show you; You now had matching black patches on the undersides of each hand.

After you two took it in for a moment, Pyro pulled you into a big, warm hug and giggled excitedly, happily exclaiming, “I found you! I finally found you!”

You’d think Pyro would drag you around and show you to the others, but no. They mostly keep it to themselves, except maybe Engie, and waits for you to tell them if/when you’re ready to tell the others. That won’t stop them from squeezing your hand or stealing kisses when nobody’s looking, though.

Demo:

Demo has always wanted to find you so badly, but since he’s grown up he’s given up all hope. When he was a teenager he looked into finding you, but as time went on and no leads came up, he started to give up. And though he would never say it to anyone, his parents’ not-so-kind words toward him half convinced him that he doesn’t deserve to find you.

You two find out that you’re soulmates after you’ve known each other for a few months, and have become friends. You haven’t said your names because everyone was forced to introduce themselves by their team role, and your uniforms cover your wrists. One day, he tells you he trusts you to know his name and he wants you to call him Tavish in private.

For a second, you’re completely quiet, and just stare at him in surprise. You ask him if his last name is DeGroot, which makes him match your expression. He tells you it is, and asks your name your name in return. Once you tell him, he starts to grin wildly and pull you into a hug with a laugh. When he puts you down, he pulls his sleeve up to show you your name on his wrist, and starts laughing again when you show him his name on yours.

For a while, all he can do is emphasize how much he’s always wanted to meet you, and how happy he is to have found you. Though, he doesn’t need to prove his excitement to you, as his ear-to-ear grin and excited movements are proof enough.

Surprisingly, he’s the type to keep the fact that he found you to himself, and will only share about it if you say you’re okay with it. Even after the initial excitement is gone, he always has a sweet, content smile whenever you’re around.

Heavy:

Heavy’s 100% given up on finding you. When he was little, he hoped he could go try to find you, but after his time in the gulag he started to believe that the world was a cold, unfair place and gave up on a lot of things, including you. Sometimes he dreamed that he’d find you somehow, but now that he’s getting older he’s convinced that it’d never happen.

Of course, you don’t find out each other’s names for a while due to work rules and uniforms (even though he wears short sleeves, he keeps his covered), but it’s going to be a very long time because he’s very selective about who he trusts to know his name.

He only learns you’re his soulmate by complete accident. One time you were sitting by him with your chin in your hand, and your sleeve slipped down past your wrist. When he looked over he was surprised to see his name there, but he didn’t react at first.

He asks if you’ve found your soulmate, and you answer no. When you look up at him, there’s an excited gleam in his eyes despite there being no change in his expression. He shows you his wrist, and your eyes go wide as you see your name on his wrist. You show him yours and ask if the name is his. He says yes with a soft smile, and takes your hands to

Engie:

Engie’s also the type that kind of gave up on finding you. He hopes he will someday, but he’s a really busy guy and he doesn’t have time to go look for you. Once he hit 40, he stopped believing he’d find you. Of course he wishes he found you, but he’s over it at this point and stopped caring.

You find out that you’re soulmates after only a couple months of working together, because he trusts you pretty quickly. One day, he asks you to please start calling him by his name. You ask what it is, but when he answers, you freeze.

You immediately pull down your sleeve and show him your arm. He looks up at you with a smile, and shows you his wrist, watching you to see your reaction. His excited smile turns into a big grin when you exclaim that your name is on his wrist.

He quickly takes your hand in his, pulls down his goggles with his free hand, and looked up at you. He explained how happy he is that he got to meet you, and asks if you want to try to start dating, or at least try in the future if you’re not ready.

Around base, he spends more time with you, and he’s visibly much more content when you’re around. It’s cute seeing how you just being near him makes him so happy. He wants to know everything about you, and loves learning about you and the things you enjoy.

Medic:

Of course, when he was a little kid, he was so excited to meet you. He would always insist he’d find you, even though his parents often laughed at him about it. But once he got invested in science, he kind of dropped that idea. He’s convinced that he’s perfectly content with his job, his birds, and his few friends.

You two figure out that you’re soulmates fairly quickly. After you arrive on the base, you’re introduced to everybody in the rec room, though you don’t notice your strings are connected yet.

It’s when he pulls you away to connect you to the re spawn system and give you an Uber heart when you two realize. You sit up after he finishes the procedure, and as you’re getting up, you notice that the string is pooled between you two, and that they lead up to your fingers. You gasp and draw his attention to it.

When it clicks, he looks up at you, and it’s like there’s stars in his eyes. All of that excitement from his childhood seemed to fill him up again, and he is so excited. He pulls you into a tight hug and laughs happily.

As he spends more time with you over the next few months, he realizes how much he needed a companion like you. Even though he didn’t realize it at first, he was lonely, but he’s glad he was able to find you and become close to you.

Sniper:

Considering all of the tragedy and misfortune he’s had in his life, he’s surprised he hadn’t woken up to his string being cut and worn to a dull red, an indication of the soulmate’s death. He’ll never admit it, but he really, really wants to find you. He honestly doesn’t think he ever will, but he still wishes that someday he’ll find you by chance.

You two don’t realize that you’re soulmates until your first training session together. All of the mercs are out around the base practicing their skills in the morning, so Sniper’s off in some nest somewhere, sniping targets from there. At some point, you sit down to take a break. But before you get up, you realize your string is leading off in the direction of Sniper’s nest. You follow the string, and find that it does in fact lead up there.

When you get up into the nest, Sniper asks what’s wrong. You gesture to the string, which snaked between you two. His eyes went wide, and he immediately got up to approach you, which lowkey scared you a bit. After a moment of just processing what’s happening, he puts his hands on your shoulders, tells you how happy he is that he got to meet you, and then pull you into a tight hug.

He’s honestly so excited to be with you and loves spending time with you, and he’s like a little kid on Christmas, but he manages to sort of bottle that up so he’s not making a fool of himself. He loves to spend time with you and learn about you, and is lowkey excited to start dating whenever you’re ready.

Spy:

Spy pretends he doesn’t care about finding a soulmate, but deep in his heart he wishes he could find you. If you were to ask him about it without him realizing you’re his partner, he’d probably say soulmates are a silly, pointless thing. But with all of the relationships he’s had in the past, which were almost always loveless and purely sexual, he does wish he had someone who just loved him and cared for him.

You two figured out that you’re soulmates in a very unexpected way; on the battlefield. It was your first match, and you hadn’t noticed a Pyro sneaking up behind you. Spy took the chance for a free backstab, told you to watch your back, and ran past you, but he immediately ran into a Heavy-Medic combo. He cloaked, ran back, and pulled you around a corner with him, so you two could kill them once they had passed you.

But before you two left, you noticed the string being pooled between you two and pointed it out to him. His eyes went wide, but he said that he’d talk to you about it once the match was over, as nearby, your team was about to push. For the rest of the match, he was visibly shaking, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

After the match, he pulled you aside to talk. You could tell he was trying to keep his cool, but he was visibly failing. He simply tells you that if you’re interested in trying a relationship with him, he’s open to start dating. If you say you’d like to try that, he smiles a little and you can see that he relaxes. It takes a while for him to fully warm up to the idea of being in a relationship, but he’s happy to have you and he’ll come around more eventually.

#tf2 #teamfortress2 #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 imagines #tf2 headcanons #tf2 x reader #tf2 x s/o #tf2 x y/n #tf2 x you

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semicielo · 4 years

Note

Obanai with a female tsuguko who's somewhat the complete opposite of him? Like she's sweet, gentle and soft-spoken. She's also clearly his favorite 😂😂😁 I live for the trope where the guy gets melted into a puddle of love by this cute and sweet girl 😍😍😍

Iguro Obanai X Tsuguko Fem! Reader Headcanons

⇢ A/N: Okay but kny new manga chapter made me (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ), my boy Iguro I’m so-

Type: headcanons (I’m planning to write a one shot of this)

Genre: Fluff

It was a surprise, specially for the three new boys finding out that the sweet (y/n) was Iguro’s Tsuguko, specially for Tanjirou since he and the pillar first encounter was awful.

(y/n) liked to be helpful and caring with the others, she even helped attending to Inosuke’s recovery, the girl always had a smile on her face and talked with a sweet soft voice.

The three boys had a soft spot on the girl, and they start wondering how someone soft and delicate like her could be the successor of someone like Iguro.

But they didn’t knew that Iguro’s heart was full with (y/n), since the first time they meet with her “please be my master”.

All he could said was “ok”, he was stunned with the girl’s beauty, and his heart finally melt when she wildly smiled and got closer to hold his hands “thank you so much Iguro-San!”

Iguro is always a blushing mess when he is around (y/n), the girl always looked at him with her bright eyes and smiled at him.

Or when she is with other people and sees him far away, she smile and wave at him.

Even Kaburamaru loved her, the snake like to roll up on her like it do in Iguro’s body.

He saw how the girl struggle with her hair, since she liked to have It loose, so Iguro bought her a brooch for her hair.

When he gave it to her he didn’t imagine how she was going to react, or what was going to happen.

Their first hug happened that time.

Iguro thought he was going to pass away.

And then (y/n) said to him “can you put it on my hair” while she was still hugging him.

His hands were shaking but he did what the girl said, they both were really happy, (y/n) liked the present and Iguro couldn’t be happier to watch the girl’s beautiful smile.

Since the first hug she keep doing it, to great him, to congratulate him or simply when they chat.

In one of the reunions that the pillars had Sanemi’s told Iguro how soft he was with (y/n)

“You are too soft with that girl, you need to take your job seriously”

“I don’t need to be soft, she is the best Tsuguko over here”

Their first kiss...

Firstly the kiss was a mistake, (y/n) was going to give Iguro a kiss on the cheek, he gave (y/n) a bouquet of flowers for her birthday, her original plan was ruined, he moved his head and they kiss through the mask.

He's never seen her blush like that before, her cheeks were dark pink and her eyes were teary, she was apologizing and her words were difficult to understand for all the shuttering.

“I-I-I’m ssssso so sowy- sorry! P-plewse d-don’t ha-ate me”

How to hate her?, impossible, he could never hate his angel.

That was the beginning for multiple kisses.

(y/n) lips were soft against his cheeks, forehead, chin.

She also had kiss Kaburamaru’s head.

(y/n) even saw his face without the mask.

“Iguro-San is still really pretty at my eyes!”

“Didn’t you mean to say handsome?”

“Nop, pretty!”

When he told (y/n) the feelings he had for her, he firstly apologize for not being enough for her, “nonsense” she told him, “Obanai-kun has helped me to be stronger, that means he is strong, he helped me to be brave because he is brave, I’m still learning things about you, and I wish with me you could learn to love you like I do and that you are the most amazing person ever”

(y/n) saying she loves him gave him tons of happiness, his insecurities made him believe that despite all the contact that they had, (y/n) was going to reject him, but she was truly an angelic being.

They were so in love, he could die for her, and even he doesn’t know, she could die for him too.

She was the fluffy ball full of love in their relationship, he was a guard of hers, he wanted her to stay healthy, safe and happy, even he was a little bit intense with some situations, like jealously.

Obanai is a jealous guy, one time (y/n) to fall but Tomioka caught her on time, by grabbing her waist.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you so much Giyuu-San!”

A bad energy flooded the place.

“Get your nasty hands out of (y/n) body, disgusting bastard”

Saying goodbye to each other’s involved being lovey-dovey.

“Iguro-San I’m going to a mission with Zenitsu-kun”

Then he kissed her on the forehead “stay safe, come back soon, angel”

Zenitsu thought “Life is so unfair”

818 notes · View notes

sixx02 · 3 years

Text

One More

“Arc… Arc… vs Arc… and Nikos… ugh… why are there three of you?” The combat professor scratched his head as he stared at the names on the board. “Whatever…”

Jaune did not like where this was going, they had only been here for a few weeks but he’d seen just how good Pyrrha was. Okay, well he could tell right away after her first fight with Nora. He just kind of hoped they’d be together… ‘Not together together! Just on the same team… right that’s what I meant!’ Yep he definitely didn’t think she was super darn awesome, or really pretty, or super badass or anything like that! He also didn’t notice her well toned arms and legs when they were training, nope! He’d never pay attention to things like that.

Of course… he couldn’t help but pass glances to her now and again, she was really awesome. Though… he doubted he’d have a chance, and honestly he needed to concentrate on himself… right… he didn’t want a repeat of before. Turning towards the professor he waited for the actual teams.

“Ugh, whatever, boys versus girls.”

Both Lie and him stopped, “Uh… sir, could we uh… could you reconsider?”

“No! Now get your stuff and get up there!”

Both boys turned towards one another, “Oh no.”

Lie and him weren’t terrible by any means, heck they were in the upper half of the class! But, well… Nora and Pyrrha were at the very top constantly competing for first place. And there was talk about Pyrrha actually competing in the upcoming tournaments! The trio had opted out of it, they didn’t really want the attention and honestly speaking they didn’t want to be in front of a crowd.

“Hurry up!” Both boys sighed, relenting to their future domination. That was till they were both pulled into a powerful hug.

“Yes! I can’t wait to fight! It’s going to be a ton of fun!”

Jaune loved Nora, she was his wonderful sister after all. But, well… he wasn’t sure he could agree with that last bit. Though he didn’t really have the heart to deny her answer as she continued to squeeze the two boys together.

“Nora I think they get the point.” Pyrrha’s gentle tone caught his ears.

“Okie dokie!” Nora let them go at the behest of her, in her own words, besty better than the resty forever! Honestly despite his obvious… not so obvious, crush on her, he was just happy that she got along with Nora. Like he said he loved Nora, but she had a lot of energy, a lot of energy that caused a lot of people to think she was stupid or dumb, well they always got what was coming to them.

“Still, this should be a grand fight!”

“Right right! Grand.”

“Yes… Grand.” Lie’s response was far less enthusiastic than his own. Both boys however gave way, once they gathered their things adjourning at the arena. The girls had already been prepared, Pyrrha had her own specially made weapon. “It seems they’re taking us seriously.”

“Yep… I wish they wouldn’t!” Jaune didn’t like where this was going! He had seriously thought about how they’d handle the dynamic duo, but every single idea and thought was always just crushed by overwhelming prowess and might. “Well nothing left but to do it then ya?”

Lie simply nodded, they would have to take this one step at a time after all.

The moment they lined up with the girls the professor started the count down.

“Alright! 3...2...1… GO!”

Hopefully this wouldn’t be too terrible.

“This is terrible…”

A week earlier.

Charles couldn’t believe what they’d run into, he was starting to truly and fully believe that him and his wife were harbingers of doom… or at the very least ones that came in the aftermath of great destruction.

“Who would do this? This wasn’t a grimm attack… they don’t just set fires to homes!” Jeanne didn’t like this, not at all… they’d been on a mission when they’d seen the smoke rise into the air. When they got to the small farm they’d found the home razed to the ground, if only they’d gotten here sooner! She clenched her fist as the air around her began to warp, her aura flared wildly, the ground cracking beneath her feet.

“WAAAAAAAAAH!”

In an instant she cooled off, “Did you hear that?!”

“Yes!” Both husband and wife turned towards one another, in an instant they were off, the ground cracking beneath their feet as they made their way towards the sound.

In an instant they found themselves in front of a Cellar, wasting no time they dug through the debris blocking their way.

“What…” Once they’d opened the doors they’d found a young boy who appeared to be the same age as their twins. “Oh god…” Jeanne winced at the terrible wounds on his chest rising up to his neck.

“No… not again. What do we do?” Her husband’s words sunk in.

“We... we have to take him… see if he has family? Find out who he is…”

“P...please… help him…” Their eyes snapped towards a younger woman. They hadn’t noticed her before, but… but she wasn’t going to make it. The clear indications of severe wounds present on her body, scars and gnashes… the seasoned hunters almost looked away. “Please… he has… no one else…”

“Hold on don’t ta…” Charles stopped as he drew closer, “...She’s dead.”

Once more they let the silence seep in, “We… we have to take him.”

Her husband stood there for a moment, “Alright…”

They would bury the woman, and they would take the young boy home with them. The young man who they would later learn the name as Oscar Pines, the young man that would later be known as Oscar Pines Arc.

Jaune had been wrong, he had been terribly terribly wrong! This was worse than terrible! This had gone downright ugly!

His legs buckled at Nora’s powerful swing, the arena beneath his feet cracked. “SERIOUSLY?!” He knew that these things were supposed to be made of sturdier stuff, and he knew that if he hadn’t been pumping aura into this metal sheet of a shield it would have caved right in.

“AHAHAHAH!” Her body was surging with dangerously high levels of electricity.

“Your semblance is so unfair!”

“Says the walking living aura generator! Now on your knees my favorite minion!”

“NOPE NOPE NOPE! LIE!” In an instant Lie pulled himself away from trying to defend from Pyrrha, pumping his aura into his legs he dashed over towards his manic sister, his palm colliding with her waist sending her flying. Unfortunately she was able to stop herself from getting ringed out by smashing her hammer into the ground beneath them.

Jaune’s hand swiped past Lie as he continued after Nora, in a single burst he’d filled his brother’s Aura up once more. WIth a burst of strength his own Aura began to refill, only to stop a Pyrrha peppered him with dust rounds.

“Really Pyrrha?!”

“Sorry! But I can’t let you do that!” She was ever the fighter after all, so he knew she wouldn’t just let him recharge.

“Fine!” Putting up his shield he dashed forward, allowing the bullets to graze past it or hit less important targets, like not his head.

Upon reaching her, he did what he did best, he attempted to ram his shield into her face. Only for her to deftly avoid him, his shield flashed black as she attempted to nudge it away.

Ever since her fight with Nora, she’d apparently been using her semblance a lot more, taking the time to really practice with it. Or at least that’s what she’d told them anyways. Which was great and everything! But it made her really frustrating to fight, so he did what he knew he could. Pumping more aura into the shield he was able to overpower her attempt at control.

“You really do have a lot of aura!” He would have blushed at the comment if not for her shield attempting to ram him into the face.

He didn’t have many options, he couldn’t really avoid it, he wasn’t exactly the fastest person, so once more he did what he thought he could. “ACHA!” With a might slam he hit her shield straight on with his empowered forehead causing her to pull back in surprise.

“Jaune!?” Her worried tone was apparently warranted as that blow nearly knocked his lights out. Aura could do a lot of things, but when he messed up, well sometimes his brain couldn’t really handle the rumbling.

“I’m okay!” Straightening himself he attempted to swipe at her midsection, only for her to parry the blow using her blade.

“Good!” In that moment he felt her aura wrap around his blade disarming him as her knee hit him straight in the gut. Thankfully his Aura protected him, but that hadn’t been her goal. In the moment that he instinctively buckled over she’d applied her aura instantly onto his shield and pushed him straight out of the ring. “Sorry!”

To his surprise Lie had already been there waiting for him. “Did she golf swing you?”

“She golf swung me…”

“Nikos and Arc win!”

The boys could hear the cheering from the crowd, their own egos slightly wounded as no one really had expected them to win, not even themselves!

But, well that didn’t matter in the end, “YOU GUYS DID AMAZING!”

Pink and Sapphire eyes glanced upwards, meeting emerald and turquoise.

“She’s right you know. You had gotten our aura’s rather low.”

Both boys turned towards the monitor at the same time, they’d managed to get both Pyrrha and Nora down to about 60 percent. That may have seemed like nothing, but well, when most people couldn’t drop them even a single percent? It wasn’t a bad thing. “Huh! Hey look at that, we got you guys down another 2 percent this time.” A part of him did want to have a little snark though.

“That we did.”

“Yeah! You guys are improving!” Nora pulled everyone into a tight hug, her arms wrapped affectionately around her family, Pyrrha included.

“I agree you’re both improving at a remarkable rate.”

Neither of the boys could really deny it, while it felt bad to lose, well… well at least they knew they were getting better and that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Alright… well how bout… we go get cleaned up and then we can go to Saph’s house. We could have a sleep over?” He turned towards Pyrrha, “If you can come of course!”

“Oh! Yes, my parents should be fine with it. They quite like your sister.” Pyrrha’s warm smile caused his chest to feel oddly pained. Right, gotta concentrate on getting better.

Pyrrha parted ways with them wanting to get ready and prepared for the oncoming sleepover.

Once they’d gotten home after getting ready, they’d noticed extra sounds coming from the living room. “Saph?”

“MY BABIES!” In an instant the three Arc siblings were pulled into one powerful hug.

“MOM!” Nora was the only one to return the powerful hug meeting one with equal strength.

“Hey kids… we got something to tell you.” As their mom dropped them they eyed a small figure behind them. “Meet Oscar… Oscar Pine Arc, he’s your new little brother.”

#Jaune Arc #Nora Valkyrie #Pyrrha Nikos #Lie Ren #JNPR #Team JNPR #RWBY #Oscar Pine #Lil JNPR

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vanmarti · 3 years

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On Sunday, a kid I went to high school with passed away suddenly. He was working out at the gym, had a heart attack, collapsed and was lost to the wind. He was 34 years old. He was a few years older than me, a senior when I was a sophomore so we didn’t run in the same circles. We were in peer together, though. If you went to Memorial, everyone knew the peer kids-- some said we were a cult-- I always thought they were haters, but come to think of it we might have been a little culty. Anyway, he wasn’t in my peer class but we ran into each other from time to time. The peer office was tiny and everyone huddled up in there between classes to catch a break, a hug, or a breath. He’d ask about my sister-- they were in Ms. Chow’s 1st grade class together. I still have that class photo. Christie standing in the center row-- him in the back, he was always so tall. I’d reply: “she’s good.”

I always thought he was so cool. He walked around with a camera snapping pictures here and there. His year, 2005, had the best yearbook. He was funny and controversial. Mr. Donnelly our Peer coordinator would say he was a ‘knucklehead’. And all these years later, D still referred to him as a that when he called to see how I was taking the news. ”Not well”, I said.

One time, he was standing next to me in the peer office between classes. I was having a shitty day and blasting Obstacle 2 in my old taped up headphones when suddenly he tapped my shoulder and asked “are you listening to Interpol right now?” I nodded. He high-fived me and replied “good shit!” and instantly, I smiled. He had that effect on people. You wanted to impress him but he negated that sort of impact on others. He had this unforgettable semi-lisp but never seemed embarrassed by it. He was wildly honest... said my then boyfriend was a moron, he was right about that. And when I gave myself a homemade haircut, he said I looked like Natalie Portman, which made me soar but then he finished with “...in The Professional but like less Jewish”.

Monday morning, while at work, I hopped on Twitter, which I seldomly do. Insta was shut down and I was trying to avoid any sad posts. I quickly realized I had hit a gold mine of shout-outs and intimate stories and recollections. Pictures, clips, and homages. There were stories of how he pulled the tiniest pocket knife on a guy on the bus who was assaulting a girl. A video of him rocking a baby to sleep. An anecdote of him nearly escaping death with a friend in Cuba. Links to his photography and collaborations. Colorful images of him at a friend’s wedding with his wife. It hit me then like a ton of bricks. All of these people, not knowing what to do with this loss, vomiting words and stories of their friend wishing they can tell him one last time how happy and full he made their lives; how proud of him they were; how much he meant to them... how much they loved him. Love him.

He made it out of WNY in the way our shitty teachers never thought we would or could. He lived life fully and was well known for his art and passion. He made an impact and yet, I feel like I’m not allowed to cry or to speak of him cause we lost touch years ago and like, who am I? Who am I to comment or like or share or whatever. Reading all these posts on his life feels like I’m eavesdropping from behind a screen. But people like him are not supposed to die. The feeling is juxtaposed with this awful reality: We lost a great man.

If all else fails to make sense, I have found comfort in knowing that this immense loss can be used as an opportunity to hold our friends close and remind them how much they mean to us..how proud of them we are; how lucky we are to have them, and how much better we are because of them. Love your friends, hug and kiss them hard. Life is short and unfair. Death is a sure and relentless reminder to love on those around us now. I know of no better legacy to leave behind.

That and this:

https://www.rodolfo-diaz.com/

#veejoliee

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green-blooded-computer · 4 years

Note

Just saw you’ve already done the prompt I sent in. Sorry about that!! How about this one? “I need you to understand that you just left. That does things to a person.”

Didn’t mean for this to take so long or to be so long! This takes place at the end of ST IV: The Voyage Home. Spock still hasn't recovered much of his memory, including his bond with Leonard. Forgive my improper Vulcan. Translations are at the end!

Leonard watched the lights of San Francisco burn into the night. He took a sip from his glass - bourbon this time - and tried to wash down his feelings. It was unfair to blame Spock for any of it. He didn’t, not really, but there was animosity there that neither of them understood. After far too long a time, Spock still didn’t know who he was. They'd been back in time, for Christ’s sake. Saved all the goddamn whales. Made it back in one piece, in a Klingon ship...none of it mattered. Spock didn’t remember. Didn’t remember him.

“Doctor.”

Leonard jumped a little. “Dammit, Spock. You’ll give a man a heart attack doing that.”

He hadn’t even heard the damn bedroom door open. Everything rattled on the Klingon ship. Everything hissed and shook - there was a reason he continually referred to it as a rust bucket. It was nice to be staying in the comfort of a Starfleet guest room until they were reassigned, but he still wasn’t used to carpeting and doors that worked.

Jim had been in and out of meetings since they’d landed the Bird-of-Prey in San Francisco. Starfleet was demanding to know just what the hell was going on. Why had they hijacked the ship, flown across the damn universe, and ignored orders? Sarek and T’Pau had only been able to explain very little on their behalf.

Oddly enough, and something Leonard was privately glad for, none of the blame was placed on Spock. He was left largely out of the politics, which graced him with a decent amount of free time that he was using to reacquaint himself with his position and with his crewmates.

When he turned to Spock, Leonard saw he was dressed in a Starfleet Captain’s uniform now, hair perfect, belt fitted - much more like his old self. The image hit Leonard like a ton of bricks. He felt his heart flutter at the sight. This is how he was meant to look - all prim and proper and dressed to the nines. Decorated. Hand folded behind his back.

Swallowing any visible feelings, Leonard stepped forward, away from the window, but kept his distance. Seeing him like this hurt a lot more than he thought it would.

“My apologies, Doctor. I was simply endeavouring to ask you a question.”

Spock had been open about asking his old crew everything he thought he needed to know. While he spent most of his days continuing the studies he had begun on Vulcan, there were only so many Starfleet manuals he could digest before curiosity seemed to get the better of him. He was remembering some personal things, little by little. It seemed, however, nothing about Leonard was left in his head.

The doctor was not surprised when he claimed to be looking for some answers. He’d stopped by a few times before, asking specifics about old missions they’d been on that he’d been reading in the ship’s logs, and wondering about Starfleet medical policies. So far, there had been no questions about the events on Vulcan. Leonard didn’t have it in his heart to turn him away. He was happy to sit and reminisce about everything in detail even if it resulted in too much alcohol once Spock had left.

Leonard sighed. “Alright,” he said as he laid his glass on the table. “Sit down. What do you want to know?”

Spock did not sit. Unlike their other conversations which had been casual in feeling and appearance, this one seemed to be strained. Spock remained near the door and did not move.

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Everything alright?”

“I am not sure,” Spock replied.

Well, that was an alarming statement. Vulcans weren’t known for admitting their feelings of unease, but especially not this one, and especially not since the fal-tor-pan. The two of them stood in silence for a moment and then-

“Well, speak up, dammit, what is it?” He was getting nervous now. Maybe someone had told Spock that they used to be bonded. Maybe he was here to say things were just too uncomfortable and they couldn’t be friends. Maybe he had requested a transfer. Maybe he was in love with someone else.

Leonard felt sick.

“I have been recovering more memories each day, Doctor, as you had surmised I would.” Spock’s voice was calm and steady. He was absolutely unreadable.

“Yes. It’ll take a while, maybe a few years, but-”

“I have remembered something important.”

The suspense was killing him. Nervous habit, he picked up his drink again and took a large gulp before locking his eyes to the ice in the glass. “Okay. Well...what is it?”

Spock stepped closer to him, but still kept a few feet between them. The tension in the room was almost visible now. Bones grabbed onto the back of a nearby chair to steady himself. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was damn near sweating now.

“Leonard.”

The name sounded foreign coming from that mouth. That voice. It made him angry. Made him desperately sad for his mate who - as far as he was concerned - was gone. He placed the cup back on the table and did not respond.

“In engineering,” Spock began. “On the date we faced Khan. The ship was in danger. I was the only one who could restore the warp drive.”

Leonard stared at him wildly. He remembered that night. Imagine remembering your own death. It was incomprehensible. Why was he bringing it up now? Why here?

“I find my memories through meditation. Sometimes, I feel I am almost there, in that moment. I recall making the decision, knowing you would not allow me, delivering the neck pinch, and then transferring my katra into your mind.”

“I could not fathom why I would do such a thing. It is very difficult to place one’s katra into the mind of another, especially someone with which there is not already a link established. I clearly remember this moment now - it took only seconds. I thought ‘how is this possible?’ I remembered over and over. Re-lived that moment again and again for the last few days until I realized - there must have been a link already.”

He knew. Leonard’s grip on the chair was so tight his knuckles were white. He knew and he was going to tell him he never wanted to see him again. As Spock approached, it took everything for him not to back away.

“As soon as I made that realization, it all came back. Every moment together. Every memory. Our initial joining. I knew what we had been.” Spock reached out his hand and brushed his fingers gently over the back of Leonard’s hand clutching the chair. It was just a touch - no bond came with it. “Ashayam,” he said softly. Not a title - he wasn’t being addressed. Just a word. Beloved. The word sounded so clinical. “Why did you not tell me?”

So there was the question. Why didn’t he say anything? Why hadn’t he told him from the start what they were? “I was afraid,” Leonard sputtered.

“Afraid of me?” Spock perked an eyebrow.

“Afraid of...messing up your recovery. It would overwhelm you. I...I was afraid you’d reject me.”

“It would not be logical to reject one’s mate…”

“You did it once before.” The words held no malice. “I just...when you came back you barely remembered a thing. You were so concerned with your Vulcan studies and...Spock you have to understand it took years of building a relationship for you to be comfortable being with a human.”

“Years that are not lost, Leonard.”

His words were damn romantic, but not realistic. His Spock was gone. The doctor shook his head.

“You do not believe me?” Spock questioned.

“I don’t know. You still seem so...empty.” He cringed at the words. “Not, empty just...not yourself. Something’s missing.” Lots of things were missing.

“Part of me is empty. Joining with you would help to recover that part.”

What had Amanda said to him on Vulcan? ‘He needs a little bump in the right direction.’ It seemed Spock was asking him for just that. ‘He is rejecting the human side of himself,’ she had told him. ‘You helped him to realize how important his humanity was.’

“Are you suggesting we reconnect the bond?”

“That would be the logical course of action.”

His answer was so simple - as if that was the only solution. Wasn’t it more complicated than that? “Spock...I don’t know if I can do that.” Their bond had been severed twice - one my distance and one by death. He honestly didn’t think he could live through that again. “We were so intertwined and then you were gone when you died, and then I was you, and then you were gone again. From my head. But standing in front of me a complete stranger and...I need you to understand that you just left. That does things to a person.” Leonard couldn’t be sure that Spock remembered leaving to complete the Kolinahr, but he hoped it was understood - a third time would kill him.

“I still...ah…” Leonard felt his face getting hot with embarrassment and he looked away. Spock’s hand was still over his and he carefully relinquished his hold of the chair and turned around so their palms were touching. It felt so good to touch him, but so strange without the connection. “I still love you. Of course, I do. You were a part of me for so long, it’s so hard to be by myself now.”

“Then let us not be alone.”

Leonard tore his eyes away from their entangled fingers and squinted his eyes at the man in front of him. “You don’t remember what it was like,” he said. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely perplexed. “Creating a permanent, telepathic bond with someone is not a decision any two people would make lightly. Even though I do not remember every detail of our relationship, I know that it was intended to last for the remainder of our lives together.” He paused, presumably to hear any arguments, but one was not forthcoming. “I trust that I made the correct decision when I initiated the Van-Kal t'Telan with you.”

It hurt Leonard that he didn’t understand the Vulcan words Spock said. He frowned. “You don’t even know me,” he said quietly.

“Leonard,” Spock responded in the most matter-of-fact fashion. “I believe you are the missing part of me. I will never be who I was unless we rebuild our connection.” Spock knew he wanted this. He had to. The way he was speaking, Bones thought he really must remember everything about what they were.

Leonard wanted to say yes. He wanted things to go back to the way they were so they could just live their lives out like they promised. “I’m afraid, Spock.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Ugau nash-veh, Hakausu. Trasha-fam nash-veh.”

Leonard didn’t have to understand Vulcan to see why Spock was getting closer to him, raising his hand, placing gentle fingers on his face. He leaned into the touch. He couldn’t help it. Spock was so close he could feel the heat of his body. His smell was so familiar and comforting. Leonard remembered clinging to his pillow the nights following his death, inhaling desperately.

The meld was not like their first joining. It was not warm and fuzzy. It didn’t feel like they were intertwining, moving into each other’s space. It was not like the second time, on the Enterprise, on the way to V’ger. That had been shocking and sudden and overwhelming. This time it was as if there had been something missing, and suddenly it was back. Like he hadn’t realized he was blind, and now he could see. Like there was some gaping hole in his soul, and he felt normal for the first time in so long.

‘Breathe, Leonard.’ He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Spock had moved to hold him around the waist with his left hand. His right still prodded gently into his cheekbone. It was as if he was seeing the man clearly for the first time since his death.

Leonard cupped his face lightly with both hands. “Thank God for you,” he said quietly. “I missed you so much.” Without waiting for an invitation, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Spock’s mouth. His stomach did a flip when he felt the other man kiss him back without hesitation. “Do you remember everything now?” he whispered against his husband’s lips.

“Not everything,” Spock said softly. “But much more than I did.” He closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together. “So much pain…”

“Not your fault.” Leonard kissed him again. Then kissed his cheek, then broke the meld by pulling him into a tight hug. Spock’s presence didn’t leave his head though. He prayed it never would again.

“La’kwon-sum.”

katra - the living essence of a Vulcan.

Ashayam - beloved.

“Ugau nash-veh, Hakausu. Trasha-fam nash-veh.” - I promise, Doctor. I will not leave.

Van-Kal t'Telan - the ceremony of bonding

“La’kwon-sum.” - I am here forever.

#spones #Spock/McCoy #star trek #star trek fanfiction #fic request #Star Trek IV #the voyage home #Leonard McCoy #spock #thanks for the request!!#feel free to share

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buckyownsmyheart · 5 years

Text

Worth Fighting For [one-shot]

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 5.6k (I can’t help it I’m sorry)

Summary: As a new recruit trying to pass the enrolment tests, you need to prove to everyone that you deserve to be a part of the team. To do this, you push yourself to your limits, and get some help from an onlooker.

Warnings: A bit angsty, swearing as per, I was feeling some emotions when writing this

A/N: This is for @yslbuckyx ‘s writing challenge! Congrats on 1k! My prompt was “I’m sorry, I got a little too carried away”

You ran purely on spite. You were tired of people telling you that you couldn’t, so you did. You joined S.H.I.E.L.D. 4 weeks ago, to spite your father who said you couldn’t, and had just passed the tactical and mental challenges. These had always been your strengths, learning and memorising new information was something that you enjoyed doing. It sounds nerdy, but frankly you had gotten over being called that since way back in high school. People were always going to talk, so you might as well do what the fuck you want, and for you, that was absorbing knowledge. Since high school, you had learnt Spanish, Japanese, Russian and were in the process of learning Cantonese. Your ability to pick up new things had meant that you were finishing top 5 after 4 weeks in the selection process. At the beginning, there were 60 new recruits, but by the end of the next 4 weeks there would be 10. It was a brutal process, on the first day they lined everyone up and split them in half, and then sent half home, saying that they don’t recruit unlucky people. From those 30, 10 would be removed after the intellect test, and 10 after the next step, the physical test, which was the part that you were most worried about.

You had never been strong or particularly sporty. You often ran, enjoying the hours of solitude that it gave you, allowing your brain to sort through anything that it might be pondering or struggling with. There was nothing like the feeling of fresh air on your face, or the relief when you stop, and your calves relax and stretch out. But this wasn’t going to get you through the push-ups or sit-ups or whatever else they made you do, so you had to be smart about this if you wanted to make it through to the final 10. You had started trying to build up your strength, but so far you felt you hadn’t made any progress and it was infuriating, but your time was up, and you were absolutely shitting yourself.

For the next 5 months, you would be put through hell. Testing your physical strength, your resilience and your adaptability to environments. For each month that passed, the 2 people at the bottom of the rankings would be sent home, and you weren’t sure you could face your father if you were sent home, you knew what he would say. “I told you so sweetheart, you’re just not cut out for that sort of thing, why don’t you try something a little more for you? A little more gentle.” You were going to make it through these challenges.

The 20 recruits stood in two lines of ten, some were turning to their neighbour and chatting, but you didn’t feel much like small talk, so you hid yourself in the backrow at the end, trying to avert all attention away from you. Maybe if they thought you were no one from the beginning, and let them have low expectations, then you might be able to surpass those expectations with what little strength you have. Everyone snapped to attention when Captain America and Black Widow walked into the large space you were all standing in, eyeing each and every one of you. You tried to stand tall and not shy away from their gaze, knowing that this was probably just a scare tactic, trying to spot the weak ones straight away. Luckily, from years of practice at school, you had become adept at blending in and becoming invisible, not too proud, not too shy, somewhere in the middle.

“Recruits,” Captain America addressed the lines, “Today we’re going to start with some basic fighting, I’m sure you’ve all got some experience, so we’re going to pair you up and test your skills, let’s start with a warm-up.” Shit. You had close to no fighting experience, unless you count that one time in your debate class where a boy named Jimmy had tried to hit you, so you kneed him in the balls. That was when you were 12. Why hadn’t you thought about this. You assumed that they would teach you all the basics once you got in, and that this was just to gauge your fitness levels, not to put you up against each other and judge from that. You turned to the girl next to you, her beady eyes located a little too close together on her rather square-looking head. Her biceps looked like they could strangle you by giving you a glance. You looked wildly around but saw that everyone else had already paired off. You gave her a small smile, and Cap started the warm-up. Luckily, at this point there was no actual fighting, and you actually just seemed to be warming up your muscles. You copied your partner’s every move and looked around the room to see how other people were doing it. There were practice punches being thrown, body twists to focus on technique and some more cardiovascular exercises to get your heartrate up. You were glad about your runs, because although sweat was running down your forehead, your breathing was still pretty steady.

“Alright everyone,” Black Widow’s voice carried across the room, causing instant silence. “We’re pairing you off against each other, this is a no-rule fighting situation. Nothing dirty, but all styles welcome. You two, up first.”

You realised she was gesturing to you and your terrifying partner, there was no way you were escaping out of this alive. Your legs seemed to move of their own accord, jumping up onto the mat and dropping into a fighting position.

You gulped, took a large breath in and released it, trying to calm your heart thumping in your chest. It might give the opposition a confidence boost to see your chest shaking with how hard your heart was beating, and you couldn’t be giving them any more advantages than they already had. The two of you padded around each other, your fists were raised in a protective stance, and your opponent looked like she was ready to pounce at any moment, and then she did. You dodged the first attack, jumping around her arm and bouncing on your feet. After a few more circles of each other, she lunged again, her fist narrowly missing your torso, but as you were on the back foot, she delivered a kick to your knee, which immediately brought you down to the mat. You leaped back up, bouncing on your aching knee to try and get the pain to go away, and ran over to the other side of the mat.

“Stop dancing!” A voice shouted from the side, and you shook some hair out of your face to try and focus. People around you were murmuring.

“There’s no way she can do this.”

“Look how weak she is!”

“Hasn’t thrown a single punch.”

Anger bubbled up inside you, this wasn’t your fault. It was unfair. But you wanted to show them that you could do this. Prove them wrong. And so, you dove back into the fight, trying to put as much weight behind your punches as possible and tightening your core. You got a few hits in, but your opponent was too quick and too strong. She blocked your hits after the initial surprise and fought back. Hard. A volley of punches hit you all over and kept coming as you stumbled back. They merged into one as the floor beneath you spun, and your vision became blurry. When the punching stopped, you realised you were on the floor. Everything hurt, your vision was still cloudy and there were still leers behind you. Determined, you got up, and raised your fists once more, trying to get the world to stop spinning. You focused on the woman in front of you and willed your legs to move. On shaky legs, you moved forward, before a hand was on your chest. You looked up to see Black Widow looking down on you.

“Alright, show’s over. That’s enough for today. 0530, tomorrow, sharp.” As people left the room, you were still trying to make your legs obey you. You couldn’t appear any weaker in front of the one person you needed to impress, but her hand was still on your chest, holding you back. “Are you in the right place? Do you even want to be here?” Her voice was harsh and scathing, and it felt like a ton of bricks on your chest. Of course she didn’t believe in you either, you had made a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. You’d be surprised if they allowed you to stay to the end of the month, maybe you should have stuck with an intelligence desk job. But that voice in your head that doubted you also reminded you of all the other people that doubted you, and you’d be damned if you let them win. You raised yourself up and looked her dead in the eye.

“This is where I’m meant to be, and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be in the top 5 by the end of the selection.”

Her voice softened, “You’ve got fire in your belly. Use it.” And with that, she left you, where you remained alone, wondering what you had just gotten yourself into.

⁎⁎⁎

Bucky was sitting down on the sofa, watching an episode of Brooklyn 99, his new favourite show, when Nat came in and slumped down beside him.

“You know, for a world-class assassin, you have very little finesse.”

“Says the guy who tripped over the very flat floor yesterday.” She sighed, “There’s a new recruit, she’s weak and can’t fight for shit. I don’t know if she’s ever fought before, but she’s so determined, and it breaks my heart that she won’t make it to the end of the week, because she’s exactly the type of person we want here. Someone with defiance and will do anything to break the odds, but the stupid recruitment team don’t think traits like that are valuable. They want meatheads, the intelligence tests they have to do are just making sure they can do high-school maths, and still half of them fail. Apparently, she was top after that, knows something like 3 languages, but they’re already trying to kick her out and move her to intelligence.”

“Wouldn’t intelligence be better suited for her if she can’t fight?” Bucky replied, looking up at Nat confused.

“But we need strategists, leaders, not people that will follow every word we say, because we’re not going to be around for ever, and if the next generation only follow our orders, who’s will they follow next? She’s different, she thinks for herself, but Fury’s already on my ass about picking favourites, so I’m just going to have to let her go.”

Bucky nodded, not sure what else to say, and they both watched the rest of the episode in silence. He did think about the new recruit though, he wondered who they must be to have made such an impression on Natasha, she wasn’t often one to care about people she didn’t know, but by the next morning, all was forgotten as Bucky headed down to the gym.

⁎⁎⁎

After visiting the medical bay, 5 stitches and lots of codeine later, you collapsed onto your bed. You had each been given a dorm along a single corridor, with shared bathrooms at either end. Now you had expectations to live up to and a top 5 to be in, you needed a better plan. One that was going to get you there, but first, you needed to learn how to throw a punch. Tonight, YouTube was going to be your best friend. You watched videos of fighting styles, how to perfect your technique, how to maximise your strength, how to read your opponent. There were tips and tricks on everything from making people make mistakes to building up muscle quickly (naturally of course, you didn’t think anabolic steroids were the answer here). By the time you had gone through these, standing up to practice and do slow run throughs of the moves, it was past midnight. You set your alarm for 4:00, if you were going to do this, it was best to start how you mean to go on.

Your alarm blared as you sat up, feeling like you had only had a few minutes of sleep. You rubbed the tiredness out of your eyes and threw on your gym kit. Before your brain could wake up and tell you what a terrible idea this was, you found yourself in the gym, starting the warm-up that the Cap had shown you all yesterday, and then building on it from the things you had learnt. For an hour you practiced, sweated, and improved. By the time the rest of the recruits had got down, you had had a shower and changed into some fresh gear, ready for the day. The day of training continued, and you found yourself doing exercises, punching bags and using a range of the different fighting techniques. The assessors moved around, taking notes and judging styles.

The days continued like this, but the end of the first week was rapidly approaching, and there was no way that you were not in the bottom two. Although you had improved massively, everyone else had such a big head start, that you were still being beaten in every fight you were put in. You struggled to meet Romanoff’s eye. It had become rapidly known if they called her Black Widow she would kick them out of the programme immediately. On the Sunday, you trudged down to the gym before the others, and saw that the list had already been published. Your heart stopped beating, and then thudded against your chest. Trying to breathe evenly, you looked at the list of names and the rankings. You were 18th. Somehow, you had made it through to the next week. Two names at the end that you didn’t recognise, but then again, you hadn’t really bonded with the rest of the recruits, were in red. Disbelief filled you, how could you still be in? Was the tiredness finally kicking in, and you had reduced your brain to hallucinating? Shaking your head, you looked at the words again, but you were definitely not being kicked out. You were sure others would be sad about losing two members, but you were glad they were gone because it wasn’t you. That’s the thing about running on spite, it doesn’t leave a lot of room for love in your head. You went over to the punching bag and started your routine. What you didn’t know, was that someone had accidentally stumbled onto your morning escapades and was impressed.

Bucky looked onto the new recruit, smiling. He had first seen her the morning after their initiation into the compound, where he had gone down to the gym early to try and burn off a nightmare, to find someone already there. This must have been the recruit that Nat had been talking about, the one that had had her ass handed to her, but still found the strength to challenge Nat. He knew that although she would never admit it, Nat saw herself in that recruit, and wanted to get her through this process. As Nat was in charge of the selection process, she couldn’t pick favourites and help only them. Bucky, however, wasn’t related to the selection process at all, and so he did as much as he could to help you get through. That week, it was just telling Nat that you had been down here, sweating every morning, watching videos and trying to get your technique up. She had visually seen the improvements and had decided to keep you on. Bucky knew though, that this next week was more fight orientated, and that you needed more than the internet to get you through it. So, he took a deep breath, and approached you for the first time in a week.

“You want to engage your core a little more, try not to throw your shoulders into the punch so much, rotate your entire body.” Okay, Bucky, you could have started with something a little less harsh, the whole getting people to like you thing Sam was talking about.

“I’m sorry, you are?” There was a hardness to your voice, but your face was soft and open. Seeing you up close, he could appreciate the finer details of your face and the subtle movements of the muscles as different emotions intertwined themselves within your features.

“Sorry, Bucky Barnes,” he stuck his hand out to shake, which you hesitantly took after removing a glove, “I want to help you get through to the next round.”

“Why?” You asked, still looking unsure at Bucky’s face, and then around as if you were looking for other people around him.

“Let’s say I’m helping a friend out. I’ve seen you here before everyone, and staying after they’ve all left, and I’m impressed. If you want my help, I’m happy to give it to you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, and Bucky thought you might turn down his offer, “Isn’t that cheating?”

He couldn’t help himself but laugh a little, “Darl, this is life, there’s no cheating, only people who find ways to cope and people who don’t.”

You didn’t respond, and Bucky could see the conflict in your brain as cogs turned. You considered him, and then shrugged, “Okay, engage my core, what else?”

And that was that, your training together started.

⁎⁎⁎

You were beyond sceptical of Bucky and his help. He coached you for an hour, and all the pointers made sense, but you couldn’t help but feel something was off. Why was he being so nice? His excuse didn’t really make any sense, and you didn’t trust someone without motive, because people always had motive and if you didn’t know it, then it’s most likely to be against you. Until you could figure him out, you decided to take all the advice you could get and try and stay in a little longer.

When you came back from your shower after parting with Bucky, the group of other recruits had gathered early to see the list. There was an uproar and shouting, people mouthing off the system, and you. “She cheated, there’s no way she’s still in.”

“They need to take likeability into these tests.”

“Diane and Charlie shouldn’t have been the ones to leave.”

“I saw her with the Winter Soldier just now, trust her to sleep her way to the top.”

With the last one, you froze, your blood turning cold. This explained Bucky’s motivations, he was not only trying to get you kicked out, but he was going to make your so-called teammates hate you along the way. Maybe he thought if he spread enough rumours about you, you would leave all by yourself. You weren’t going to let that happen. With 15 minutes to go until Romanoff arrived to start that days training session, you backed away from the murmuring people, trying not to let their words get to you, and trying to use the anger that was bubbling up inside of you to build your motivation. It wasn’t until you got into the changing rooms that the anger faded into irrevocable sadness that often lingered behind the emotions that surfaced. Trying to cough out the lump in your throat and looking determinedly at the ceiling, you focused on the good. You were here, you were through, you were improving day-to-day, and you had already proven people wrong. This was your dream, and you were going to get there eventually. Placing the palms of your hands in your eyes, you tried not to think about the deep loneliness that had etched its way into your bones, chilling you from the inside out. You tried not to think about the last time you had been touched that wasn’t violent or pitying. Repeating to yourself like a mantra, you affirmed, “You can sleep when you’re dead, and you can love when you’re finished.”

“That seems an awfully lonely way of thinking, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s voice startled you out of your trance, and you got to your feet, only seeing red. This was the man who was trying to sabotage you, spreading lies into the wind to break you down, and you were going to show him exactly what you thought about it.

“How dare you come in here, pretending like you’re not trying to sabotage my career, my life, by telling the world that I was sleeping my way to the top, and you have the audacity to call me sweetheart? Get out of my face, I never want to see you again.”

“Woah, woah, woah, where has this come from?” You went to storm past him, rolling your eyes to hide the tears that were building again, but he stepped back, gently placing his arm in front of you. “Look, I don’t know where you’ve got all this from, but I promise I would never tell anyone anything that wasn’t true. I haven’t told a soul that I’m going to help you, and I would never make up something as obscene as you were repaying me with sex? I swear on my ma’s grave that whatever you heard; it wasn’t from me.”

You looked at him calculatingly, trying to read his expression and find any tell-tale tics that he was lying, but his face was relaxed, his eyes open and almost pleading that you believed him. You had no idea why he cared so much, he had known you for all of two hours, and no he was pretending like you had some sort of trust between you? As if reading your mind, he spoke again.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other but I’ve read your file, I know about you, about your life. You’re smart, and the sort of person we need as an agent here, Nat said so herself. I know she sees herself in you, but she can’t do anything about it so I’m here to help you. I want to help, I promise I would never do something to hurt you, and I will kick the asses of all of the other recruits for spreading shit about you.”

You couldn’t help but give a small smile at this, sniffing away some stray tears that you didn't realise had fallen. He did seem genuine, and everyone knows that there’s always a leap of faith at some point in everyone’s story, maybe yours was with Bucky.

“Is that a smile?” He asked, “I know this is a new age, but damn, it seems like pigs might be flying!” An unwanted laugh escaped your lips, unable to keep it at bay. How on earth had someone been able to cut through your mask so quickly? You blamed the lack of sleep and ignored any other point your brain might come up with. “You should get back to the other recruits, this week is strength and fitness, and if you don’t beat at least 3 people up that climbing wall then I’m making you get up an hour earlier each day this week.”

He turned to walk out of the door, and as he opened it, he turned back to you, giving an award-winning smile. Were there butterflies in your stomach? Yes. Were you going to ignore them for all eternity? Also yes. Bucky had been in your life all of two hours, he wasn’t going to be the reason you failed, all because you were touch-starved and lonely. Shaking those unwanted feelings out of your head, you braced yourself for the onslaught of accusations that would be thrown at you, but somehow the prospect of facing them seemed a little lighter than they had before.

⁎⁎⁎

Over the course of the week, you and Bucky had spent over 25 and a half hours working together, not that you were counting. An hour and a half of that was on Wednesday, when there had been an unfortunate incident where you broke down and accidentally spilled your guts to Bucky, telling him everything that had ever got to you. You told him about your father never accepting who you were and pushing you into some mould by sending you off to some faraway school. You talked about how you weren’t even sure if this was right for you, and that you chose what to do next by seeing what people said you couldn’t do. Your hopes and fears spilled out, accompanied by too much snot and a slightly bewildered Bucky. To his credit, he comforted you, remaining silent until you had calmed yourself down. Before you had a chance to apologise, Bucky spoke in a collected but soft voice. He opened up too, telling you about his nightmares, about how after Steve left, he felt the pressure to become the hero that everyone expected him to be. You could still hear his voice crack as he laid himself out on the table, just as you had done.

“After all I did as the Winter Soldier, I struggled with the idea that I could be a hero like everyone else. I felt I didn’t belong, and I pushed away anyone that tried to reach out. Then I realised that you accept the treatment you think you deserve, and you belong where you allow yourself to belong.”

Through sleep deprivation, pushing yourself through limits and emotional sharing, you two had become closer than you had with anyone before. The butterflies in your stomach turned into smiles when he walked into the room. At night, you found yourself preoccupied with thoughts of him. Of stupid jokes he’d make throughout the sessions, featherlight touches that stayed hot for minutes after he moved and ways in which you could ease his night-time turmoil’s. He had been kind to you when no one else had, and you let him in where no one else could be. He was your light in darkness and the warmth within your veins, and you had a feeling that you were also his.

Although Bucky had eased your self-deprecating thoughts, they still surfaced every now and again. Frustration often triggered them when you struggled to see progress. You knew it had been such a short period of time, but you knew Bucky must be getting frustrated at you too, and you couldn’t deal with his disappointment among everyone else’s. Although he didn’t know, he had become the thing in your life that held you together, and if he left, you were certain you would fall apart.

This was all whirling around your mind on Saturday afternoon, until Bucky’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“No!” Bucky shouted at you, “You’re leaving your side exposed, someone can come in here.” He jabbed you and you let out a growl. You had been training for hours, Bucky putting you through your paces after making you get up earlier than usual, and then stay later afterwards. Today seemed to be one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did. You couldn’t seem to get anything right and were getting more irritated by the second.

“Can’t you see I’m trying!” You yelled back at him, repositioning yourself to try again. As you lunged at him, he stepped you easily.

“Too obvious, again.”

You rolled your neck to release some tension in your shoulders and tried again. You jumped to the other side, but Bucky pushed one of your shoulders, “Keep balanced!” You ignored him and went in for another punch. “Legs!” He shouted, sweeping at your ankles, making you stumble back into the wall as his arm crossed over your chest, pinning you down. You felt tears brim in your eyes, the overwhelming emotion from the past few months coming to the surface again. You couldn’t breathe past the lump that was stuck in your throat, and looked Bucky defiantly in the eye, daring him to say something else, because he was just like everyone else. He would leave when he realised that you weren’t going anywhere, and you would be left alone again. It was your fault for getting your hopes up. Instead, his face fell, concern lacing his features.

“I’m so sorry (Y/n), Oh god,” He said softly, releasing you from against the wall, “I’m sorry, I got a little too carried away. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” He looked up at you, searching your face and brushing some sweaty hair off of your forehead, “I just really want you to get through, I want you to be in this team. Let’s stop for today, yeah? That was too much.”

You looked up at him confused, watching his shaking hands as they moved away from your face with curiosity. His words were a stark contrast to all the other voices of people that had told you that you were too weak, not made for this sort of world, that you couldn’t do it, but those voices rang louder in the back of your head. Before, they had spurred you on, but now you felt like maybe they were right, and you were stupid to try and prove them wrong. Bucky’s intentions resurfaced in your mind again, and you began doubting the friendship you had formed, wondering what he was doing helping you. You shoved him back, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to pour out of your eyes. “Why are you helping me? Is this some joke to you and Romanoff? See how far I go before I break? See how much I believe I have a friend, before realising you were making it up?” Every doubt you had about him was threading itself into your words, trying to hide your feelings deep under insecurities, and hiding those insecurities under anger and spite.

He looked at you, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. Then his eyebrows furrowed, and he took another step back. He pointed his finger accusatorily at you, “What have I got to do to show you that I mean it? That I care about your outcome? I’ve known you for less than three weeks and you already occupy every space in my brain. I can’t stop thinking about you (Y/n)! And all you can say is that I’m not sincere? Not genuine enough for you? Shock horror, not everyone hates you, some love you, open your goddamn eyes.”

Bucky’s voice was filled with a mix of passion and anger, his words shaking and his hands falling limp by his side as he finished. His chest was moving up and down heavily and realisation hit you. This wasn’t a one-way street. You had been so caught up in yourself that you failed to see the obvious. The way that Bucky was also getting up at ungodly hours, making training plans, preparing sports drinks and high energy snacks. He had shown you love in a way that you had failed to recognise because you had never been taught to look for it, and now he was pouring his heart out to you and all you could do was stare back at him. You had no idea what to say, what could you reply to that? How could you tell him that you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind, so you tried to kid yourself that it was all nothing? That he was the only thing keeping you going through this? That he was the person to replace your motivations of spite, to motivations of love?

“Kiss me.” Your voice said, sounding small, but Bucky didn’t need telling twice. He pinned you back against the wall and crashed his lips to yours. Your bodies moulded together, and your lips moved against one another. You both trying to express the repressed feelings, you your gratitude, and him his pure intentions. And whilst no fireworks went off, you felt a sigh of relief exit your body as he kissed you. The tension releasing from your shoulders, and the threat of tears subsiding from your eyes. When you finally broke apart, you looked at him, a small smile appeared on his face.

“Now that, was worth fighting for.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” you tried to say, but he cut you off.

“I know, I am too, I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“No, you shouldn’t apologise, I’m sorry for not appreciating you, you gave me everything I wanted, and I gave attitude back. I never could be scared of you. The only thing I was scared about is that I might fall in love with you, because that’s a terrifying ordeal.”

He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead. “You showed me you appreciated me in your own way, you talked me through my nightmares, brought two towels because you know I always forget mine and laugh at my jokes no matter how stupid. You embolden the light inside me by encouraging me to be me. Maybe we both need to work on our communication a little more, but we also speak in a language that the other understands, so it’s okay.” You rested your head on his chest, finding solace in the steady beating of his heart and his hands stroking your hair. You could feel his lips moving against your hairline as he spoke again, “Come on, let’s get some food, too much shouting makes me hungry.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Barnes, breathing makes you hungry, you’re an ogre.”

“A sexy ogre that’s going to take you on a date and ask for Nat for special treatment to pass you through the stages, because I am done with early mornings. I will train you in weapons myself at a reasonable hour.”

“That’s definitely cheating.”

“Maybe so, but it’s more fun.”

#yslbuckyxwritingchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #reader insert #bucky fanfic #worth fighting for

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Came PT. 9

It’s Christmas Eve - who better spend it with than your roommate/secret boyfriend of 3 months and all of your friends? But anyways, secrets aren’t meant to be kept forever. A cute Christmas filler before the angst to come soon. :)

“Come on you two, or we’re going to be late!”

Freddie was waiting near the entryway, shifting from foot to foot in an antsy manner as he called for you and Roger. You had been tasked with getting ready before Freddie came home briefly from the stall (he’d ran it on his own today) but both of you had gotten sidetracked when you accidentally napped all afternoon away in Roger’s bed. How you’d managed to hide the relationship from Freddie this long when you were this forgetful, you had no idea.

You’d barely managed to even take a shower before Freddie had returned home, and he chastised the both of you thoroughly for being so lazy.

“Both of you are awful, neither one of you could go check and make sure the other was getting ready? I swear it’s like you two don’t even know the other exists. Y/N, in her little world out here while Roger sleeps the day away in his little rabbit hole.”

Glancing down the hall towards Roger’s room, you’d had to stifle laughter as you nodded along, scrambling to pull a Christmas outfit together that would look semi-decent. You’d invited the boys and their dates over to the stall for Christmas Eve, and you were dying to finally let everyone know that you two were an item. But the one problem that stood in the way was Freddie.

Freddie still hadn’t been told, and there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be furious if you told anyone besides him first. You both considered each other to be your closest friends, aside from Mary and Roger, and if Freddie had to find out for himself that you’d been stealing nights in Roger’s bed when he was away, he’d flip a lid. But the right time to tell him just simply could not be found.

“Rog, I’m coming in to use your mirror, get decent,” you called from outside of his door, Freddie rolling his eyes as he looked at the clock on the wall impatiently. Giving him a moment to arrange himself out of pure respect for the act in front of Freddie, you then entered and found Roger in all black, very anti-Christmas if you’d ever seen it, but then again, Roger was never one to observe traditions anyways. Suddenly feeling too festive in the white sweater dress and red heels you’d donned, you turned to go change with a quick ‘Sorry,’ but Roger grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room gently, closing the door behind you.

“You look lovely tonight, dove,” he cooed softly, twirling you around once before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as you regained your footing, giggling softly.

“Thank you, Rog. You look…. festive,” you teased, Roger laughing as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, guiding you over to the mirror.

“Is this how you people from the future dress for Christmas? I’d quite like a future with a little like red-green juxtaposition in it.”

Rolling your eyes at yet another one of his future questions, you reached up to pull a stray hair from the wildly abnormal position it’d been resting in on Roger’s head, then ran your hand over his hair to smooth it. Ever since that late September night, Roger had been eager to learn about the world that awaited him in the future. He’d practically gone mad when you told him about camera phones. You couldn’t wait to tell him about smartphones.

“Get ready to cry – we dress even more festive in the future. Last Christmas, I wore a red and green sweater that had the Wet Bandits on it paired with some reindeer leggings.”

Groaning for a moment, Roger rested his chin on your shoulder as he furrowed his eyebrows, making a stink face. “Horrible. Red and green is the worst of the three complementary pairs. And Wet Bandits? What does that even mean?”

“Let’s just say they made the best Christmas movie of all time in the 90’s. You’ll love it.” Patting his cheek, you then turned your head to press a quick kiss to his temple, but he turned and caught you up in a real kiss, one that was playful and teasing and verging on dangerous as his teeth latched onto your lower lip, tugging on it gently. “Rog,” you murmured softly, pulling away reluctantly and pressing a kiss to his nose. “When are we going to tell Fred?”

“Do we have to?” he whined, moving to stand in front of you and pressing a series of pouting kisses to your face.

“Rog, stop, stop,” you laughed quietly, ducking away from his kisses but still wrapping your arms around his neck. “Are you ashamed of me? Am I not 70’s enough for you?” He pulled his head back, studying you for a moment and smiling as his eyes roamed over your lips, then flitting back up to meet your gaze. “Don’t even think about kissing me again before you answer the question.”

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled playfully as the smile remained on his lips, pressing one more kiss to your jawline. “You know I’d never be ashamed of you. I’m just afraid of how sore I’m going to be when Freddie beats me senseless for bedding our cute roommate. Are you forgetting what I promised him?”

“Yeah, yeah, something about me being off limits. Look how well you listened to that.” Pinching his ass for dramatic affect, you got a sour look in response, and you grinned innocently as you pulled away from him, stepping around his body to get to the mirror, where you started applying red lipstick. “We’ve got to tell him tonight, before we get there. You know he’ll lose his marbles if Brian or anyone else finds out first.”

“Before we get there? Like, in the car?” he sputtered, raising an eyebrow at the way you remained unbothered at his shock. “You want to sign my death warrant, clearly. My girlfriend wants me dead on Christmas Eve, what a gift!”

You shushed him as you nodded towards the door. Freddie could have easily been listening, and you prayed with everything in you that he hadn’t heard an ill-timed, accidental confession. Finishing your lipstick off quickly, you peeked out of the doorway to find Freddie still waiting in the entryway, tapping his foot and giving you a pointed look when he noticed you poking your head out.

“One more kiss,” Roger mumbled from behind you, grabbing your hips that were still obscured from Freddie’s view. But you wriggled out of his grasp, looking over your shoulder with a pointed look and shaking your head. “C’mon,” he whined, still hiding just inside his doorway, but his puppy dog pout wasn’t enough to keep you there, so he watched in defeat as you disappeared out of view down the hallway, your heels clicking against the slightly warped wood.

“Rog is ready, he just keeps spazzing over which necklace he should wear,” you remarked to Freddie, grabbing your purse from the couch and averting your eyes when you spied the church spire just outside the window, adorned with Christmas lights. Letting your blood settle from the instant boil it had hit, you closed your eyes for a moment before turning to Freddie and smiling. “Let’s head down, he can catch up.”

“Not letting you two abandon me,” Roger protested as he emerged from the hallway, clasping his necklace and giving you a playfully insulted look as he joined the two of you in the entryway, pulling all of your coats on.

“Right. Now that our psycho fashionista has chosen his impressive all-black ensemble for a Christmas party,” Freddie pointed out, raising one eyebrow before pushing his hair back out of his face a bit. “Let’s get on with it. You’ve made us late to our own party.”

“Oh, hell, it’s not like it’s a big thing,” Roger retorted, grabbing his bottle of vodka from the counter and tossing you the champagne you’d requested. Opening the top of the bottle, Roger took a swig and only cringed a small bit before closing the bottle again. “Everyone’s going to be hammered by the time we get there, though, so that’s a bit unfair.”

“You don’t get to complain when you were the last one out,” you chimed in, Freddie laughing and wrapping his arm around your shoulder as Roger closed up, grumbling to himself as he trailed behind the two of you.

As you emerged onto the frigid streets of a December London, you silently said a prayer for everyone working the café tonight. It was sure to be a busy place, tons of hot chocolates and coffees and big groups, but you’d made sure to request this night off ages ahead of time. Freddie was rambling on about some guy he’d wanted to invite for you as you approached the car, Roger opening the front door for you as an oblivious Freddie walked around to the other side.

“He’s a right treat, darling, you would have loved him. It’s a shame he had plans, I was really looking forward to hooking the two of you up.”

As Roger climbed into the seat behind you, he sneakily reached around the far side of the seat and pinched your hip, garnering a yelp and a blush out of you as you forced yourself not to turn around and pull out your claws. “Sorry,” you mumbled, pulling your seatbelt over your lap and buckling it as Freddie gave you an odd look.

“Get caught in the door?” he asked, starting the car and nodding with you when you nodded in fake agreeance. “Well, maybe we can bring Tom round for New Year’s, he’s dying to meet you.”

Glancing back at Roger in the rearview mirror, you raised an eyebrow. Even though his eyes pled with you to keep quiet, he willed himself to nod, and you smiled before looking to the road as Freddie started to drive down towards Kensington Market, babbling on about Tom.

“Won’t be necessary, Fred, I’m fine. Thank you though, for always looking out for me.”

“What? Are you turning down an eligible bachelor?” Freddie gasped, stopping at a red light down the street and turning to you. After a moment, he then leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice. “Are you gay? Because if so, that’s totally understandable. I just thought, because of that man at the bar this summer-“

“She’s not gay, Freddie.” Roger speaking up from the back startled Freddie, and he turned to give Roger a condemning look before he took off again at the green, running straight into another red a block down.

“Roger, it’s a bit rude to assume your roommate’s sexuality for her. Who are you to know what she likes down there? Buzz off.”

“Freddie,” you started, but Freddie was on a roll as he turned back to Roger again, fury in his eyes.

“And another thing, Rog-“

“I know what she likes down there, Fred!” Roger exclaimed, Freddie making a noise of disgust and disbelief as he turned back around, repeating the same process of going at the green light and getting caught at another red. It was a vicious cycle, but you were about to see something else pretty vicious if you didn’t intervene.

“Just because you think you’re a god amongst men doesn’t mean that-“ Freddie started, but you grabbed his arm to stop him before he said anything he’d regret in a moment. He looked at you funny, then cocked his head curiously. “What is it?”

“Rog is well aware of what I like… Can we stop referring to it as what I like down there?” you asked, cringing lightly, and Freddie remained confused, so you sighed and continued. “Roger and I have been an item for a couple months now, Fred.”

“3 months as of today,” Roger corrected, sending a cheesy smile to you through the rearview when you looked back at him in amazement.

“My god, it has been 3 months on the dot, hasn’t it?” you marveled, slowly smiling and forgetting all about the man in the driver’s seat for a moment. “Happy 3 months, Rog. Can’t believe we’ve put up with each other that long.”

You looked forward and noticed the light was green, but Freddie wasn’t going – he was just staring at the road in front of him, not really seeing. When a car honked behind you, he sprung out of his trance and hit the gas, going forward and plunging the car into silence. The lack of a reaction from him was eerie, and Roger was the first to try and lighten the mood.

“If it makes you feel any better, Fred, we didn’t shag in your bed.”

“Roger!” you and Freddie yelled simultaneously, Freddie gripping the steering wheel tightly and glancing over at you with an unreadable look as you glanced between him and a mutually terrified Roger in the back.

“Fred, we wanted to tell you sooner, but we were afraid you’d be mad at Roger. He wanted to tell you on his own time, but he pussyfooted around for the last two months and never got around to it,” you explained, ending it with a reprimanding tone as you caught Roger’s eye in the rearview. All you got was a sheepish smile in return, which quickly erased itself when Freddie spoke.

“You should have told me the moment it happened, darlings, I wouldn’t have been mad.”

Roger scoffed at that. “You’re mad now. And you were mad then too, yelling at me to not have my cock out around the flat. You just didn’t know it yet, but she’d already seen it the night before.” Jesus, his filter is remarkable, you murmured, rolling your eyes at your choice of boyfriend but smiling just a bit to yourself.

“What?” Freddie hissed, hitting the brakes and making you jolt forward as he stopped for a sudden red light. Swallowing hard, you suddenly regretted letting Freddie drive as you broke the news to him. “That was the day after I ended up at Brian’s?”

“Yeah,” you admittedly softly, reaching over to grab Freddie’s arm, squeezing it gently as you gave him an apologetic look. “We’re really sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We promise you’re the first to know. Not even Brian knows. We’ve just been taking it slow and steady-“

“Slow enough that you shagged on the first night,” Freddie pointed out, and Roger couldn’t help but snicker as you rolled your eyes nodding.

“That was only fair. But seriously, we wanted to make sure it was the right time before we told you. We’re going to tell everyone else later tonight.” Freddie nodded slowly, absorbing all of the info he’d just been given as he tried not to freak out, knowing that would give Roger the satisfaction of knowing he was mad that you hadn’t told him sooner. “We love you, Fred, we swear we just did what we thought was best. No more secrets from now on, promise.”

“What she said,” Roger agreed, and you shot him a warning look over your shoulder as you squeezed Freddie’s arm again, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

And Freddie wasn’t unreasonable. Thought he was stubborn and promised to give you a good reaming later, he couldn’t help but be happy for the two of you. His two closest friends, his roommates, had found a happiness in each other that could only be translated through the looks you gave each other as Roger held the door open for you once you’d reached the market. It was evident in the way you smiled up at him and took his arm that you adored him, and Freddie noticed how gentle Roger was with you, closing the door behind you, opening doors for you, keeping a guiding hand on you at all times as you all three made your way into the market.

Although he was a bit livid that he was the one of the trio trailing the pack this time, he smiled a bit at the sight of you two. Better him than anyone else, he supposed, as he looked at Roger’s head tilting towards yours, a brief kiss brushing past your temple, and the giggle that came out of your lips was sweet, and pure. That does it, Freddie decided to himself as he watched the two of you approach the market stall arm in arm, They’re a good match. If Roger hurts her, I’ll kill him.

Deacon was the first to notice your arm in Roger’s, a questioning eyebrow raising as he sent you two a coy smile and greeted you amiably. When he gave Roger a quick, one-armed hug, he questioned him with nothing but a look, which Roger confirmed with a nod. “Well, I’ll be,” Deacon remarked laughingly, giving you a quick hug as well and quietly congratulating you, Freddie watching with a small, knowing smile as he poured himself a drink, having already gone back into the stall.

“Nice of you three to show up finally,” Brian teased, pulling you in for a hug and making you laugh as he easily dwarfed you.

“Blame Roger. Couldn’t decide what to wear, as if the choices were so difficult,” you joked, Roger rolling his eyes playfully and giving Brian a light pat on the shoulder in greeting.

“Matching blacks is difficult, I’ll have you know.” Brian laughed at Roger’s mock serious tone, and Chrissy joined the three of you in conversation as you all settled in, drinking and laughing and generally being merry on the special night. Meanwhile, Freddie, Deacon, Veronica, and Mary played some drinking game across the stall, all of the other stalls around you closing up for the evening as you continued the drunken festivities. Soon, you were the only people left in the building, so you spread out the party just a bit, Roger managing to sneak you away to stroll down the hallway, arm in arm, as you talked.

“Freddie reacted about as I expected,” you noted happily as you squeezed Roger’s arm, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes for a moment to stop the room from spinning. Laughing incredulously for a moment, he looked down at you as you reached the end of the hallway, spinning around slowly to head back towards the merry, frivolous voices of your friends at the far end.

“He reacted way better than I expected,” Roger scoffed, pressing a quick, drunken kiss to the top of your head before fully wrapping his arm around your shoulder and leaning his weight on you a bit. “But I’m glad we told him. Now I can kiss you whenever I want.”

You smiled widely at Roger’s completely inadvertent Sweet Home Alabama reference, choosing not to tell him about that particular movie, and you came to a stop with him about halfway down the hallway again, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into him. “Do you want to kiss me right now?”

“Of course,” he replied plainly, as if it was obvious, and he shifted his eyes upwards to the wooden beam that ran across the ceiling above your head. You looked up to see a sprig of mistletoe hung directly over the center where you’d just stopped. “That’s just an added bonus. Two for one.”

“Really? I feel like it-“

But Roger’s lips were already on yours, not letting you get another word in as his hand cupped the side of your face, obscuring it from the view of the others completely. He wanted this kiss all to himself, one sloppy, drunken kiss to share just between the two of you. You were sweet, like champagne, and Roger tasted like cigarettes, the two tastes intermingling deliciously as you parted your lips for him just slightly, his tongue barely beginning to glide across yours before the sound of Brian’s voice pulled you out of your embrace.

“My God, Roger and Y/N are snogging out here!” Brian yelled loudly, alerting the rest of the group to your whereabouts as he staggered up, clutching his bottle of beer. “I didn’t know you two were a thing.

“I did,” Deacy chimed in, and Veronica nodded along, having heard it from him. And of course, Freddie had told Mary, who had told Chrissy. All of them chimed in with their own knowledge of the relationship, leaving your cheeks burning as Brian stared in disbelief at the two of you, some of your red lipstick smudged onto Roger’s lips messily.

“Thanks for enlightening me, guys,” Brian sneered jokingly, giving you a searingly damning look before taking another drink of his beer. “I suppose I’m the last person on Earth to know? Merry Christmas to me.”

“Not the last person,” you corrected gently, smiling a bit to yourself as you moved your hands to Roger’s arms, snickering a bit. “I haven’t told my coworker that fancies me the news. Don’t want to crush him with that weight during the holidays.”

Brian rolled his eyes, tipping his beer back once more before looking up at the mistletoe and squinting a bit. “Glad that I’m not the last one, I guess. Now stop hogging the mistletoe. I’ve got a girlfriend I’d like to make out with as well. Chrissy!”

Chuckling, Roger wrapped his arm around your shoulder and started leading you back to the stall as Chrissy made her way out to where Brian was, laughing at something he’d said and chastising him gently for being so drunk. She was sweet and a bit motherly, just Brian’s type, and you wondered if she thought the same about your pairing with Roger. By the warm look she gave you two as you passed, you hoped that was a positive sign.

“It looks a bit better on Y/N,” Freddie teased Roger, brushing his thumb over his own lips to indicate that Roger should find a mirror, which he did as he led you back around the corner of one of the stalls, obscuring the both of you partially. And he looked in the mirror for a moment, just to grin at himself, before his lips were on yours again, stealing your breath away as one of his hands came to rest unashamedly on your ass.

“Roger,” you breathed out against his lips, but he just gave your hip a quick squeeze with his other hand as he grinned cheekily into the kiss, leaning forward and resting his forehead against yours as you tried to pull away to give him a word of warning before he got you both in too deep. But your attempts were futile, Roger’s wandering hands pulling you close to him and tempting you far too much, so you pressed a kiss to his lower lip as you tried to speak again. “Roger, everyone is right out there.”

“So? They all know now, we don’t have to hide anymore,” he murmured, but he did pull back a bit, moving both of his hands to a respectful place on your waist as you leaned into his touch, the fuzzy haze the champagne had brought over your reasoning making you giggle as he brushed a ticklish spot on your side.

And he was right, you decided. Why hide it if everyone knew? Even if you didn’t really completely belong here, you did know that you were meant to be with Roger, right here, right now, and somehow, the universe had made that happen.

“The best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten,” you whispered as you looked up at him with an adoring gaze, Roger returning the gaze through lightly hooded, drunken eyes. But he was every bit as enraptured as you, smiling widely before he pressed one chaste kiss to your lips, then one to your forehead. As his lips lingered on the soft skin near your hairline, he murmured those three words you’d been simultaneously afraid, yet oh-so-ready to hear.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N. I love you.”

PT. 1 PT. 2 PT. 3 PT. 4 PT. 5 PT. 6 PT. 7 PT. 8

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lackedflaw · 4 years

Text

overture

odasaku-centric 1,998 w

a.n: yes, this is supposed to be a five-hundred words drabble chronicling odasaku’s stay in koi. no, i don’t know what hit me ;;

he opens his eyes and everything is too bright.

ears ringing, head pounding, eyelids feeling like they weigh a ton each. his first instinct is to raise a hand to obstruct the sunlight from coming into his eyes, blinking the pain away until he’s able to make out the green of the trees and blue of the sky.

then he hears the muffled screams, coming from somewhere in front of him. sakunosuke rises to his feet, struggling to stave off the oncoming wave of nausea by propping both hands on his knees, vision still adjusting as he looks for the source of the noise. it takes him a few seconds to realize that he is standing on a parking lot somewhere, another few to spot a white van parked not far from him as the source of the screams.

sakura? and yuu… and kousuke. what’s going on?

adrenaline takes over before any rational thoughts does; sakunosuke doesn’t even know why he springs straight into action and sprints towards the van at the sight, stumbling on his own foot once or twice in the process. he does know that there's an inexplicable sense of urgency that tells him to run as fast as he can, to not stop until he has all five of them safe in his arms- to tell them that he's there, it's going to be okay, they're going to be——

the explosion that occurs right after sends him flying thirty meters backwards, hot air hitting his face without mercy as he crashes upon the gravel. sakunosuke briefly registers the pain blooming all over his body, ignores the sting of scrapes and cuts on his skin as he stares at the burning car before him, throat burning from the cry of anguish that doesn’t sound anything like his voice.

he thrashes wildly on his bed and his head knocks against the headboard, jolting him awake.

he opens his eyes and darkness is the first thing that greets him.

breathing comes in mouthful of air and painful inhales, memories of the black smoke from his dreams constricting against his lungs. yet the throbbing pain upon his joints feels like a fleeting sensation, almost like a mere ghost, now that he’s back in the comfort of his apartment in koi. for a moment everything is disoriented, mind still hazy from the sudden shift to consciousness.

sakunosuke attempts to sit up straight, hands grasping on the front side of his abdomen only to release a relieved sigh when his fingertips comes in contact with a damp t-shirt. there’s no trace of gravel- only the crumpled surface of his bed sheets and his own perspiration making his shirt cling onto him like a second skin.

nightmare. it’s just a nightmare- an extremely realistic one at that, too.

heaves a sigh, fingers brushing his own bangs off of his forehead. the frequency between one terror-filled night to another is getting shorter and shorter for his liking. sakunosuke steps out of his bed and discards the shirt he's wearing, crumpling it into a ball before throwing the gray cloth into the laundry basket. the fact that it was about his children this time isn’t helping at all. could it be because he's been missing them more lately?

azure shifts to the digital clock on his nightstand, red lines making out the shape of ‘03:56 AM’ jarring amidst the darkness. it’s too early to get up and make coffee, yet too late to fall back to sleep when he has work in three hours. maybe getting fresh air would do him good...

and by fresh air, he meant retrieving a cigarette pack and ashtray that he swore off not to touch a couple of months ago from his socks compartment.

the sky is still a dark shade of blue when he slides open the door to the balcony. sakunosuke leans against the railing as he plucks a cigarette from its container and clamp it between his lips, taking notice of that the streets down under isn’t as quiet as he thought it would be. but then again it’s only natural with the belladonna district only a short walk away.

an idea to grab his coat and walk around the said district crosses his mind. being a member of the port mafia granted him access to a lot of places that most people rarely think of going into in yokohama. he can’t help but wonder if the nightlife district in koi is similar to the ones they have back home.

although he wouldn’t be surprised if they end up kicking him out, now that he’s a detective for the local police force.

taking a drag of his cigarette, he lets his mind wander off to the distance, relishing the pleasant burn that trails down in his throat. the night air is cool, yet not particularly harsh upon the bare skin of his abdomen. he waits for a few seconds to exhale—just to get that little kick before releasing the smoke through his mouth. a little bit of nicotine never fails to soothe his jotting nerves, even after the most horrifying of nightmares or traumatizing event.

ah, right- he forgot to check on his roommate. hopefully he didn’t wake micah up with his little incident from before. he has been nothing but accommodating throughout they time cohabiting together, even with that one awkward first dinner where sakunosuke took the initiative to cook spicy curry for both of them. it was sakunosuke’s first time sharing something so personal as a living space with someone else other than his mentor and micah’s presence feels almost natural around him, although he probably still needs to work on his own conversing skills with the latter.

to think about it… how long has it been since he arrived in koi? sakunosuke had lost track of the time. with the abrupt change happening in his lifestyle, he didn’t have the luxury of sitting around idly on the living room, having to go job hunting and get accustomed to the odd city he finds himself stranded in. it was fortunate that he managed to land a job in a cafe despite not having any prior experience in the hospitality or the restaurant business.

he doesn’t suppress the smile that quirks the corner of his lips when he recalls his former? boss’ words to him after their first encounter in the cafe. ‘it suits you’ chuuya had said when he served his tea to him. those three words—although simple ( and funny, coming from a port mafia executive )—left a lasting impression more than saku think it could. who would’ve known someone like him could also play the role of an ordinary barista? a child groomed since young to be a deadly assassin only to join the mafia afterwards, now playing house by making tea and serving cakes? makes him think that maybe, the black of his blood and gushing red on his hands can really be a thing of his past. that maybe, he can redeem himself completely.

then there’s the girl he met by the river after causing her to drop her crepe. the girl with large round eyes, yet no trace of the innocence most kids her age usually possess. what was her name again… kyouka? kyouka izumi? looking at her almost makes him feel like he’s seeing a reflection of his past self--except more hopeful, and loved. they have only met once but sakunosuke is sincere when he hopes that she could lead a better life than he did.

his eyes drift towards a small potted flower near him as he releases another puff of smoke. it comes as a surprise to him that the begonia flowers he purchased from oichi’s workplace hasn’t wilted yet. sakunosuke has never been a potted flowers type of person before, as he considers them too beautiful- too fragile for someone like him to touch, but he didn’t put much thought into buying it since he wanted to congratulate the oichi for landing a job there. there's just something about her that makes him want to stay close, to make sure that her well-being is taken care of. is this what one would call as platonic affection?

speaking of affection… two brunettes are the first that come to mind.

first is dazai. his friend, who also happens to be one of the port mafia executives—or at least former, according to dazai himself. out of the other familiar faces he had encountered throughout the city, dazai was the one he didn’t see coming at all. it’s almost as if he’s a completely different person now... the way he’s dressed, the way the baby fats are gone and replaced by strong lines and sharp edges, shoulder much broader and nearly a head taller than the last time he had seen him. his gaze is also no longer hollow but melancholic, almost—for the lack of a better word—soft. dazai said it has been years since their last meeting that night in lupin, so sakunosuke supposes that not even a human conundrum like him can escape from time’s grasp.

and ango. ango, ango, ango——

something stings inside his chest at the thought of the bespectacled man. sakunosuke used to think that he is the farthest thing from emotional, knows that rationality should precede any form of sentimental value, and yet he still finds himself upset at ango’s condition when he, from all people should know how disconcerting it is to lose a chunk of one’s memories. the city did it to him- to them. it’s unfair to blame one person for something he cannot help at all.

but that’s what ango has been capable of doing from the start, right? bringing out a side of him that even sakunosuke doesn’t know exist for the better or worse, knowing where to hit and where to stroke gently, his limit and what he’s capable of.

and subsequently spurred saku to take that trust fall years ago.

“i want to take you around the streets of rome."

a shadow of a smile creeps up to his lips as he thumbs the ghost of a kiss upon his knuckle. although koi is not rome, they can make do with what they have now. like they usually do.

the sky has turned into a splash of indigo and coral by the time sakunosuke is done with his third stick. he takes one last drag—the longest one he had that morning—before extinguishing it on the ashtray and disposing the leftovers to the nearest trash bin. it’s a routine that he finds himself still unable to give up, rooting from the guilt of breaking a promise he made years ago with a certain someone. although they aren’t physically there to reprimand him, sakunosuke prefers to think that they’re always with him, in his heart.

gathering the pack and ashtray in his hand, he steps back inside the apartment before closing the sliding door behind him. the sun peeking behind the clouds illuminating the outlines of their apartment with a soft glow, providing sakunosuke with a better lighting to navigate around than an hour before. he quickly slips the two items back in it’s hiding spot and makes a beeline to his bathroom.

but not before something out of place catches his eyes in the full-bodied mirror of the closet door, causing him to retrace his steps back until he sees his full reflection upon it.

a scar that can only be described as coming from a gunshot wound, not bigger than the size of a dime yet prominent on the smooth expanse of his skin, sitting on the lower right side of his chest, dangerously close to his heart. sakunosuke instinctively raise a hand to touch the uneven skin, mirror reflecting his furrowed eyebrows back at him. the scar doesn’t feel new- but not faded enough to come from his assassin days. how come he just noticed this now?

where did this one come from?

#SOLO.#(( go beyond!! PLUS ULTRA!! ))#tw smoking #tw nightmares #tw implied violence

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wolfieonatypewriter · 5 years

Text

Echoes Across Time And Space

Summary:

Bayonetta was very much ready to have a great and relaxing birthday in the company of Jeanne and a ton of free time when one of her gifts turns out to be more than what she bargained for.

The Remembrance of Time of the day she was born that their absent god had sent her way could prove to be too much, even for her.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Golem the discount store siamese is Jeanne's cat that she finds as a stray and he's pretty consistent across my fic universes

“Golem, I swear to fucking God that I will boil you in a big witchy caldron if I go back there and see anything broken!” She had opened the door to their swanky Manhattan high rise to the cute delivery girl for some of her birthday parcels but there was a distinct ruckus of someone breaking things. “I'm sorry, it's the cat you know.”

The other lady laughed and tucked in her signing machine underneath her arm, handing her the parcel emblazoned with ‘From: Luka Redgrave’ in swirly, obnoxiously composed handwriting. “This one is fragile, so maybe do keep it out of reach.”

Cereza carted the box back to her kitchen and to the source of the disturbance, only to find the balcony door wide open to the snow storm and Golem meowing in displeasure from the other side of the room.

“You shouldn't have opened this then, you butthole.” He pinned his ears back and harrumphed out with an upturned tail, showcasing such a body part right at her as he trotted away most imperiously.

“About as charming as your owner.” She mumbled to herself, rubbing her bare arms and crossing the expansive kitchen to shut the balcony doors before the blizzard parkered itself on their home.

The wind must have been truly hazardous to have slammed the door open. She spared a thought to Jeanne, out and about in the city probably getting some private party favours for a little birthday one on one fun. She loved her toys and not even the dreadful weather had dissuaded her, especially considering those had been a backed up special order that had been ready at just the right time.

With a graceful pivot, she hummed her way back to the kitchen island, her favorite marble monstrosity, when a twinge of magic rippled in the back of her head. She turned, looking around for what might have caused it. If angels decided to rain down on her for her birthday, she would march straight to Paradiso and punch Jubileus in the face.

Odd, there was nothing out of the ordinary and the flick had since passed with no hint that it had ever happened. With a shrug, she turned back to her parcel on the marble countertop.

Luka had promised something good and she had no doubt he would deliver. What could it be, he was very tight lipped about it but had sworn up and down she was going to love it.

When she looked again, the brown box was no longer anywhere to be found and in its place rested a single blue card.

Aesir.

Cereza jumped into action, looking around wildly and turning her living room around searching for any clues on where he might be. The apartment was as she had left it, everything undisturbed, not even Golem was around to make a mess of things.

“Come on, little one! You can't just drop by like this.” She called out, walking back to the kitchen island once more. Spotting a note that wasn't on her fridge before, she snatched it. “At least show up for a chat…”

Hey, Bayonetta! I got you a little something I do think you'll enjoy. I still don't think you look like a Cereza but after hearing about it, I could be convinced.

Cereza huffed, rolling her eyes. Couldn't anyone in her life not be a dramatic ho with a flair for the theatrical? The simple sheet did not reveal any other tricks so she pinned the damn thing back to the fridge.

The card rested face down and another cursory look revealed that the box Luka had sent was resting on Jeanne's favorite chair. A sense of exhilarating anticipation itched in her chest, a feeling she hadn't gotten since she asked Jeanne to move in with her. As soon as her fingertips touched the card, a rebound of energy coursed through her arm.

With a flick of her wrist, the card was now facing up and a picture of her mummy and Balder appeared. It was stylized in the same way as Loki's old cards, her parents back to back with their hands clasped together.

It was a beautiful figure, bold in it's intent but sad given all that she knew had transpired between them.

“Sentimental, little one.” She was about to grab it to stash it somewhere safe when it lit with a surge of incomprehensible power. The world around her turned to gold and blue, her living room ending up looking like it had been ran with a bad photo filter.

She was about to move when the distant cry of a baby started up. Bayonetta looked around her apartment for any clues, bringing forth her guns from her summoning pocket.

The sound was seemingly everywhere at once but no images materialized. In between whimpers and bouts of crying, a voice sounded over it.

‘My most precious starshine, it's your first morning. What has you ever so displeased?’ The man had a rich baritone, so loving and emotional that something stabbed through her heart at the realization. He wasn't speaking English, it sounded like something of a cross between Portuguese and Galician which could only be Vigridian. Cereza was astounded she could still understand it.

This was a remembrance of time and that was… ‘She’s so Umbra but reacts so well to your magic.’ A woman chimed in, voice low and somewhat hoarse. Tired but content and Bayonetta wasn't dumb enough to miss why. All in all, she had to thank Rosa for a job so well done.

‘Daddy loves his little girl so, he can hardly stand to part with her.’ The rustle of cloth followed his statement and she strained to try and picture what could be happening. Was he holding her? Passing her over to Rosa? ‘Mummy has food, tasty and delicious. Is that what you want?’

After a few seconds, the unmistakable sound of a baby nursing filled the silence. In that time, Bayonetta came crashing down to earth on what she was seeing and hearing. Her parents, her very own parents were there in echo on what seemed to be the day she was born. Balder sounded so soft, so in awe of what had happened. His tender tone was ripped right out of a fairy tale, of parents not filled with grief, not confined to the back of an annulment cell. Of all the things she knew of him, distorted and fragmented as they were, this facet was the hardest to swallow. Father Balder had been dramatic and violent, his younger self has been angry and hurting. In neither of those had there been any space for the loving care she was hearing.

Bayonetta didn't know what to do with that information but she didn't have much time to chew it over as Rosa started speaking again.

‘She is so small… felt much larger a couple of hours ago though.’ They shared a chuckle and a the sound of a couple of soft kisses reached her ears, the rawness of their affection was obvious even without visuals. Young spouses, newly minted parents with their whole world suckling peacefully in front of them. 'Well then, what will our daughter be called?’

'I think Cereza is a perfect match.’ he supplied, words reverent and Rosa laughed in reply, so joyful and unfettered like Bayonetta only heard a scant few times in her life. ‘And may her life always be bathed in the summer sun.’

There it was, oh there it was. A name that was a blessing of the highest calibre coming from her Lumen father. A prayer that had fallen on deaf ears.

‘She was born in the dead of winter, Balder. Might I add, exactly as a good little Umbra should.'

A small sob escaped her throat and before she knew it, a couple of stray tears made their way down her face. This wasn’t...it wasn’t fair and Bayonetta had no clue on how to process the turbulent tide of her overwhelming sadness, her unconfronted grief or even just the unfairness of her misplaced anger at her parents and their decisions.

“Cereza!” The rapid staccato of heels pounded across their foyer and Jeanne sprinted into the kitchen only to halt immediately at the scene that greeted her harried entrance. “What is…”

‘That’s precisely why she needs a summer blessing. To balance it out!’

That voice brought back a flood of memories and she raised her guns, teeth gnashed and all of her was ready to summon Madama Styx right then and there but when she noticed there were no threats at their gates, she uncoiled enough to take a good look around.

Her most beloved was crying, their kitchen felt like an hub of undetermined energy zapping through her whole soul and Jeanne, brightest witch in an age and Elder of the Umbra Witches, had no clue what was going on. So she did the first thing that came to mind. Envelop Cereza in a hug.

‘The daughter of the night and day, an auspicious portent. Though many would disagree.' Rosa's voice continued to sound in their spacious kitchen, gaining a harder edge and at some point Jeanne realized that it came from the card on their table. Oh no, a remembrance of time. ‘ How long do you figure this safehouse will hold? A month?’

She hugged back, burying her face on Jeanne's shoulder and biting her lower lip to keep from shedding more tears while the memory kept going like a stuck tape on a broken recorder.

'At best, yes.’ All of a sudden he sounded very tired and they heard a sigh. ‘For now, we can all rest. This is as isolated as isolation can be, it seems the legends about Fimbulventr are not as true as they seem.’

‘For now as well, the people's whispers are too loud to ignore.’

Bayonetta lifted her head from Jeanne’s shoulder and furrowed her brow at those words, turning to her. They had taken refuge on the Holy Mountain and somehow had been taken in with warmth. Her personal experience told her acutely that being received kindly in there was next to impossible.

A thousand and one questions burned inside her head but none more intense than the age old query: Had their absent God interfered? Had he taken pity in his own Eyes, harbouring the Left and Right facets of creation and their precious bundle of the apocalypse in his own domain?

Little whimpers broke up their strategy meeting and rustling cloth sounded up again. ‘You’re daddy's girl already and you barely know what a daddy is, moonstone.’

Balder chuckled at her words, whimpers growing louder. ‘Why do I think it's not a me she likes best. You might be right, she pays attention to my magic but it's not working now.’

A string of lilting bird calls, like one would expect from a songbird, followed his statement and Jeanne just held her close, commenting “Lumen sages are keen on their bird natures, it's part of their communication.”

‘See, she likes that.’ Rosa’s voice had a hint of smugness that sounded so very characteristically Bayonetta in its execution. However, despite having quietened down a touch, little Cereza still made her discomfort known.

‘Not enough to soothe her it seems.’ He replied, chirping a little more but without any further success. A rumbling purr broke through and that Bayonetta knew what it was.

Somewhere in the back of her memories, she remembered her mummy purring at her, as close as she could through the thick bars of her cell. Her chest rattled and rumbled and her little tiny self would bask in the comforting certainty of it all.

The lack of visuals was both infuriating and a boon, as they could only guess at Cereza’s adorable fussiness from the squirming sounds she was making.

But it also meant Bayonetta couldn't see the love in her parents’ eyes, couldn't see their weariness and their bone aching tiredness tinged with overwhelming relief of having found shelter just in time for their little one to be born.

Couldn't see all she had missed.

‘Fly me to the moon…’ Their perfect harmonizing jarred her from her thoughts like a vengeful poltergeist.

‘And let me play among the stars’ the song was perfect in it's execution, a performance born of repetition. ‘In other words, please be true.’ Of singing it many times together.

‘In other words…’ No fussiness could be heard anymore, only the well polished lullaby in the unique duet version Bayonetta had never even guessed could exist.

‘I love you…’

The magic faded slowly after the last bar like a record player winding down and the last she heard was the faint noise of another soft kiss.

At that time, she had stopped caring about the tears streaming down her face or the fact that she was hanging on for dear life on Jeanne. It was embarrassing and heavy but at the same time a part of it felt…

Good.

A soft purr vibrated near her cheek, breaking the uncomfortable silence of their apartment and Jeanne held her closer. The purr picked up, higher pitched and softer than her mother's great big tiger purr, causing her to scrunch her eyes shut for a second.

“In other words.” Jeanne started, her words vibrating through her rib cage.”I love you…” Cereza felt a kiss to her hair and she sniffed, wiping her stray tears with the back of her hand.

She lifted her head and Jeanne smiled, kind and caring and loving and all just for her. She replied with a watery smile, disentangling from her lover and taking off her glasses to rub at her eyes.

The card was facing up near them on the countertop, Rosa and Balder with clasped hands staring back at them, defiant. And wasn’t that the foundation of their life, a relationship forged out of defiance. A daughter born out of love.

“Please tell me you didn't get me an emotional gift as well.”

Jeanne chuckled, snaking her arms around her waist and kissing her lips softly. “I have some things you'll like in my bag of tricks but it's mostly earthly pleasures, I promise.”

Cereza was exceptionally hard to shop for so she just got her luxury spa days and shopping trips. She had gotten her a pair of heels her most beloved had commented she had her eyes on for Valentine's and Cereza had replied the fun was in the going. Going out shopping with her was always an event that had even the most upper brow places at the beck and call of Cereza’s inexorable charms.

With a tentative touch of her fingertips on the card, Bayonetta snagged it from the kitchen island and stashed it on her summon void. She hoped beyond hope it didn’t start up again, another tongue lashing of emotions and past trauma would surely leave her soul even more raw than what it currently was.

That would take time to process and she was sure to either yank little one’s ears when she next saw their absent God or thank him for giving her such a thing, she wasn’t sure which one yet. In any case, that was an issue for future her because for now…

“Earthly pleasures you say?” The flip to predatory was so fast that Jeanne didn't even have time to react before a nip to her neck dragged an embarrassing moan out of her. Cereza had snagged her up with feline proficiency, the back of her thighs bumping against the countertop and Jeanne found herself at the complete mercy of Cereza’s hungry grin “Did you find what you went out for.”

Oh yes, she had and she was more than ready to see how it worked.

“Yes.”

Golem wouldn’t even complain.

#bayonetta #bayonetta/jeanne #Balder/Rosa

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summerfitzy · 7 years

Text

courting miss sætre (3/6)

Fandom: SKAM Ship: Noora x William Summary: Miss Noora Sætre has ambitions of spinsterhood; Mr. William Magnusson has other ideas.

(The wildly anachronistic regency era au that literally no one asked for)

ao3

Norman Ames’s first novel had entranced London from its first sentence to its last period. The thick volume sat in every bookstore, every household, and on most every bedside table for months. It dominated drawing room conversation and literary debates. It shocked and offended and awed and addicted and, most of all, intrigued.

Everyone knew that Norman Ames was a pseudonym. Everyone believed they knew why too. Cecilia was, by every measure, a scandal clad in print; a chronicle of every topic scorned by polite conversation and feasted upon by closed-door-gossip. Ames had woven a common enough story, the ruin of an innocent girl—yet in a way that sympathized with her even in her worst moments.

Unheard of. Enthralling. Even readers who went red in the face over the book’s politics and societal censure could not put it down from cover page to back cover. Those readers might have keeled over altogether had they discovered that the most shocking, most popular novel of the year had been written by a young, single woman.

(No one could ever discover that. No one would ever believe that a young, single woman could write such a convincing picture of sexual awakening and social ruin without having experienced it for herself.)

It pained Noora, on a visceral level, to write under a man’s name—but she needed the book to sell as well as literarily possible, and she wished to remain relatively unknown. The fact that Mr. Vasquez had lent his publishing connections to her, that Eva had convinced him to act as a go-between, came as nothing short of a miracle.

And Noora was not in the habit of taking miracles for granted—certainly not the money she had made through her writing. The ability to support herself without her parents, without a husband, had always sounded like a pretty, Christmas Eve dream. The kind that crept behind a child’s eyes before she hurried down the stairs the next day, only to discover a pile of impersonal presents.

No matter how many book payments she opened, Noora would never lose the thrill of unwrapping something she truly wanted.

A candle burned in the corner as Noora kept scribbling and scribbling, late into the night. She could not know that her second novel would do quite as well… only that it would stir just as much controversy. Especially in London. Her first book had picked at the mores of country life; this one would illuminate the unfairness of the Season for its debutantes.

The last several weeks had provided plenty of fodder. The last day had provided even more.

(Noora wondered if a character named William would fool anyone.)

Over the next week, Noora suffered several more invitations to dance from William Magnusson. The usual interaction went something like so:

“Shall we dance a waltz?”

“I’ve hurt my foot.”

A glance at her dance card. “You’re dancing the sets before and after.”

A shrug.

She received several more calls from him too. Noora refused them all. His cards sat beside her manuscript, tucked away out of sight—along with the messages he left scrawled on them.

Words no one else should see.

You were the prettiest girl in the room last night and What do I have to do to convince you to dance with me? and Bloody hell, you’re so beautiful.

As for the most hidden, the most secret, the most worrisome of them all: You had ink on your hands the other day. No shock that you’re a bluestocking.

Comments about her beauty—Noora had grown used to those, vain as she felt admitting it. Maybe her heart sped, on occasion, at the proof that William Magnusson thought her so pretty, but reality always slowed it soon enough. He thought she was pretty because she kept evading him. Because she was a novelty who did not care about marrying him.

Observations about her ink-stained hand—she could not trust him with those.

Noora had to remember that he thought her a pretty, diverting game. Nothing more.

(The novel was almost finished. She would not rewrite hundreds of pages to weave in a character named William. She would not.)

(She didn’t. She named him Willhelm.)

Though Mr. Magnusson kept creeping into Noora’s writing and head and sights, she could not forget that Mr. Schistad deserved her fuller attention. William had not actually done anything to her, other than heat her blood like a raging teakettle.

Christoffer Schistad, however, persisted in doing plenty—namely, flirting with Eva at every possible opening. Noora did not know what to make of the fact that Eva persisted in letting him, in smiling at him like she wanted him to carry on.

So, when Noora sought William Magnusson out again, she only did so for Eva’s sake.

“Miss Noora Amalie Sætre,” he said through a smile when he saw her. “Have you changed your mind about our dance?”

Noora crossed her arms. Her full name seemed to have become a loophole for him, a way of uttering her Christian name without propriety’s—or her—permission.

(Arrogant cad.)

“Have you changed your mind about speaking to Mr. Schistad?”

William’s eyes rolled up towards the ceiling before sliding back down to meet hers. “He’s my friend, not my servant. I appreciate your confidence in my authority, but it doesn’t extend to him.” A beat. “Or to you, apparently.”

“So you’re not going to do anything,” Noora summarized.

Ballroom chatter buzzed behind and around them. Footsteps too. So many reminders that they had a swarm of people surrounding them—and yet Noora could only register William’s voice, kept low so as to elude any ears save their own. “I didn’t say that.”

“So you will do something?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

Noora was half-tempted to drop her arms, just for the satisfaction of crossing them again. “What do you want?” she asked, forced herself to ask, finally.

He stared at her.

There was blushing, there was ‘flying one’s colors,’ and then there was the pink heating her cheeks at present.

“If I speak to Chris again,” he said, “we will take that stroll through Hyde Park together.”

Noora bit her lip.

“And,” he added, “you will stop ‘hurting your foot’ every time I ask you to dance.”

He sounded so exasperated there that Noora had to bite down on her lip even harder, just to stab her smile away. “Perhaps I’m injury prone.”

“The first dance of the night.” His mouth curved too. “Do we have a deal, Miss Sætre?”

Noora let her lower lip, pinched thoroughly colorless now, slip free from her teeth. She glanced over to the other side of the room—and saw Christoffer Schistad standing considerably too close to Eva as he smirked something too close to her ear. As she laughed back.

She shifted her glance slightly. As Jonas Vasquez stood by the room’s threshold, squinting at them.

“Yes,” she said, sighed. “We have a deal.”

(She no longer had to wonder what William Magnusson’s grin looked like.)

Hyde Park offered a good deal of loveliness in early summer. So much green beneath them in the grass, blue above them in the sky, blue beyond them in the water. Cheery flowers and leafy trees swaying around them in the soft breeze.

Noora had crossed her arms the minute she’d first begun to enjoy the weather, and hadn’t uncrossed them yet. Of course Mr. Magnusson would choose a pleasant day for their stroll—a day when half the ton would be out strolling too, taking note of the title-less, connection-less, wealth-less girl with whom he had chosen to spend his afternoon.

At least he had brought one of his more matronly maids to chaperone, albeit from a few steps behind them.

“My grandmother used to take me here,” William said, interrupting the nature-chirped quiet that had settled between them, “when I was younger.” He pointed to the wavering shallows of the Serpentine River. “She told me that the river had sea monsters lurking beneath the surface so that I’d stop trying to swim in it.” A beat, a crook of his lips. “I was terrified.”

Noora said nothing, gave him nothing. She hadn’t promised him her conversation, only her presence.

“I think she felt guilty eventually,” he went on, “because she told me later that there were beautiful things too. Mermaids, naiads—water nymphs.”

“I know what naiads are,” she interrupted, then pressed her lips together. As though it mattered whether or not he thought her intelligent.

His lips crooked even more curved. “Of course.”

As though he knew anything about her. “Do you think this will charm me?”

He blinked. “This?”

“This,” she repeated, waving a hand through the air. “Your childhood story about your grandmother, the sunny day in the park. Do you think we’re in a Jane Austen novel?”

“Jane Austen writes romances,” he said. “Do you think we are?”

Noora considered looking up at the sun, just to blind herself to his blatant amusement, but settled for tilting her eyes to the top of an unusually tall tree instead. “No.” A pause. “And her books aren’t only romances. She writes social critiques.”

“Like you do.”

Her breath, her composure, her feet—they all stumbled at once. Noora might have stumbled right over the utterly flat, utterly groomed ground, had William not darted a hand out to steady her. His arms anchored her waist for a slip of a second—long enough for her to feel how unexpectedly strong, unexpectedly hard they were, even through the sleeves of his tailcoat.

“I’m assuming,” he amended. He dropped his arms and palms from her muslin.

(The solid warmth of both still haunted her abdomen.)

“Why?” she did her best to reestablish her footing and her voice. “Because I happened to have ink stained hands one afternoon?”

William pointed to her gown’s grass-stained hem with his eyes.

Noora bit back a sigh. Fine. So perhaps she had not reacted with the utmost subtlety. “There was a branch. And I was writing a letter to a friend before you called. One of the women you’ve used.”

When he squinted at her, she knew it had nothing to do with the beaming sun.

“Miss Vilde Lien? You made her think you were going to offer for her.”

He ducked beneath a crooked tree branch. “How did I do that?”

"You—you danced with her. And flirted with her. You made her think that you liked her.”

Daylight seemed to glint from William’s eyes when he caught hers. “Is it my fault if a person can’t tell the difference between politeness and interest?”

She couldn’t understand how he’d made it so challenging to look away from him, to retort, to believe her own words when she spoke next. “You could have been polite without leading her on.” But Noora had spent the beginning of the Season bemoaning the fact that Vilde could not read Mr. Magnusson’s obvious lack of intentions towards her. He had a point.

“Miss Lien seems fine now.”

He had a point there too. Noora kept silent rather than admit so aloud.

“Is that all you write?” William asked, once it became clear that Noora did not mean to say anything more. “Letters to Miss Lien?” At some point, they had ambled over to the shore of the river. At another point, they seemed to have stopped there.

Noora wished a hard breeze would push him in. “Why do you care?”

A family of ducks waddled and quacked behind him, oblivious to the tension ironing the air above them. “How else will we get to know each other?”

“You don’t care about getting to know me.” He wanted her admiration, because he could not conceive of a woman’s indifference to him. That was all.

But he did not so much as pause before replying, “Yes, I do.” He did not smirk either. His face did not move at all, but remained as still as the rest of his body, exhaling an emotion that Noora refused to call earnestness.

She swallowed. “Tell me something about yourself then,” she said, then told herself she’d only opened her mouth to crack the intensity of his regard. “Something real.”

That startled him out of his stillness. He deliberated for a moment, before raising one hand into her view and pulling off its leather glove with the other. Ink-stains smudged his fingers.

She’d assumed he would say something cocky, something cliché, something she could scorn him for. “You write?” Noora hated that he’d surprised her.

A small smirk. “You know I write.”

“You did not stain your fingers like that leaving calling cards for me.”

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Why should I tell you what I write, if you won’t tell me?”

Because ‘unfulfilled curiosity’ and ‘withheld knowledge’ swished like wine in Noora’s mouth—which might have sounded like a compliment, if one were unaware of Noora’s inability to handle even a glass of elder wine. “Is it love poetry?” she asked, a twinge of humor sneaking onto her tongue despite her best efforts at swallowing it. “Is that why you’re so popular?”

He shook his head and his smile down at the ground. “I don’t write love poetry.”

“Love songs then?”

His eyes rose back to hers. Definitely smiling. “Would you like me to write you a love song, Miss Sætre?”

“No.” And then, because she couldn’t push the banter back down her throat: “I enjoy music too much.”

Laughter wrote itself onto the lines of William’s face, but didn’t leak from his mouth. “Would you like me to dedicate a travel journal to you?”

If they were still walking, surprise might have stolen her footing again. “A travel journal?”

“Yes.” Once she gave him her attention and her gaze, he refused to surrender either. “I spent the last year touring the Continent. That’s what I write about.”

She shouldn’t have asked. She shouldn’t have pushed. She really, really shouldn’t have, because Noora had several travel books on her shelves, all creased of spine, and would give anything to go to the places between their covers. “The whole Continent?”

“Let me tell you over a waltz some night.” A pause. “Your turn, Miss Sætre.”

And even though she shouldn’t give him the satisfaction or the advantage of a reply, of a single thought from her head… “I like drinking chocolate. More than tea or lemonade or champagne or any other drink.”

“Drinking chocolate,” he echoed.

“Especially once it’s gone cold.” The sleeves of her dress sighed against her shoulder blades when she shrugged. “Two facts about me.”

William remained motionless. He stood there, staring at her rather than out at the water, as the sun caught the gold in his dark locks and the smile flickering on his lips. His flickered grin.

For that breath of seamless, cloudless sunlight, Noora could not help but smile back.

#noorhelm #noora x william #william x noora #skam #fanfiction #otp: we have to be together #my writing #noorhelm regency era au

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rockscanfly · 7 years

Note

Concept: the little eel faces on Kaldur's hands change their expression depending on his mood

Being a good archer means having a good eye for detail, and Artemis has never been anything but excellent.

So it’s understandably galling when she realizes, three years into their friendship, that Kaldur’s tattoos are more than they seem.

They’re at the annual League Winter Solstice Party when she first notices, snatching his wrist as he’s about to hand Harper (on a short break from his fruitless quest to find whoever-the-fuck, Speedy, the first Roy Harper) a glass of mulled wine.

“Why are your tattoos happy,” she slurs, squinting through the pleasant buzz of alcohol. The Watchtower falls under international rules when it comes to alcohol–everyone eighteen and over is legal, and like any self-respecting American teen, she’s taking advantage while she can.

“Can they be happy? Harper, hey, Roy,” she says, and shoves Kaldur’s hand in Roy’s face. She gestures to the smiling eels that adorn Kaldur’s hands. “Am I drunk? Why are his hand snakes so, so smiley?”

Roy hmm’s, faking intrigue while shooting Kaldur an amused look. He probably thought Artemis didn’t see it, which she totally did, because detail, but she chooses not to mention it. Because, well, answers.

“No clue what you’re talking about, Blondie,” Roy says, smirking. “Does someone need a glass of water, kiddo?”

“Fuck your water,” Artemis murmurs, dropping Kaldur’s wrist. She steals the mulled wine first, downing it in one gulp to prove a point.

Roy throws his hands up in mock defeat. “Careful, Kal,” he jokes, “Looks like we got a badass over here.”

Kaldur smiles, warm with amusement at their antics. “A badass who I sincerely hope doesn’t think that a hangover will be getting her out of training tomorrow,” he teases gently, eyes dancing.

It’s a look that she doesn’t get to see on him often, Artemis realizes with a pang. Suddenly nostalgic, she throws her arms around the both of them, drawing them together.

“We should dance,” she asserts firmly, gesturing drunkenly with one heel-clad foot at the impromptu dance floor. Zattanna and Rocket are already up there, swaying drunkenly to Nat King Cole. “C’mon.”

She manages to pull the two of them to the floor, all three rocking gently in awkward tandem before Wally comes and pulls her away for a dance of their own–Kaldur I can understand, but don’t tell me you’re leaving me for Harper of all people, babe–and as she’s pulled away she sees Roy throw Kaldur’s arms over his shoulders as he leads the other man in a drunken waltz.

As Wally spins her around the room–he’s had three times the number of drinks as her, at least, but speedster metabolisms and so on–she catches a glimpse of Kaldur’s face tucked over Roy’s shoulder, blush flushing his high cheeks bones. She can see the little eels, too, grinning, where they rest on the strong muscles of Roy’s neck.

Well I’ll be damned, she thinks, and resolves to tease the two of them with this story when they finally get their shit together.

Its two years and a hundred leagues under the ocean later, and no one’s shit is together, least of all Kaldur’s.

Then again, Artemis thinks ruefully, exhausted, watching helplessly while he trembles apart next to her on their shared bed, caught in yet another nightmare, what could you expect?

Gritting her teeth, Artemis grabs her own wrist, restraining herself from touching him. The last time she tried that, tried shaking him awake by the shoulder, it didn’t go well.

The bruises from being flung against the wall hurt, yeah, but not as much as his face did when he woke up and realized what he’d done, or the way he shied from contact with her for a whole week afterward. She’s touch-starved enough as it is, down here, away from Wally and his fever-hot body, his Speedster warm hands. She doesn’t need Kaldur’s guilt driving him even further away than the distance he already kept.

Sighing, Artemis forces herself up, out of the bed, and pads around to Kaldur’s front. Kneeling, she tries calling his name, hoping that will wake him from sleep. “Kaldur,” she says softly, voice too rough and too gravelly in her own ears. “Kaldur, wake up, it’s okay, you’re here.”

He twitches wildly, hands coming up to cover his mouth, muffling a hoarse scream. She thinks, exasperated, that it’s just like him to silence his own pain, even in dreams.

Her eyes flick to his hands, and she notices the eels are snarling, twisting and writhing in agony. Small shocks of electricity leap from finger to finger, and she backs further away.

“Kaldur, Kaldur, wake up,” she hisses, desperate. His face is a snarl of misery, brow drawn tight. “Kaldur—” she yells, and his eyes snap open, wide and terrified.

He sits up instantly, chest heaving, gills flapping in dry air. “Tula, Tula–epanélthei, na epanélthei, parakaloúme na érthei píso–Artemis–”

“–Is dead,” Artemis says quickly. She’s too familiar with the shadow’s to believe that there aren’t at least seven bugs hidden in this room of their quarters alone. “You killed her, you avenged Tula. Its okay, Kaldur, I’m here. You’re home.”

Kaldur looks up at her, shaking his head, clearing the clouds. He straightens, shoulders going firm and tight in a way she hates. “Of course,” he says, breathe slowing. “Thank you, Tigress.”

She grabs one of his hands in hers, pulling him in for an embrace. This, the need to comfort him, is one of the only things she doesn’t have to fake down here, and she treasures the cool press of his skin to her own. “Anytime, Kaldur’ahm,” she says, and it’s one of the only things she’s said in a month that wasn’t a lie.

—-

By the time the Invasion is over Artemis considers herself an expert in Kaldur speak. The secret, she will later divulge to Zattanna, who drunkenly asks her just how the hell she always seems to know what’s really going on in their stoic friend’s head, is to look at his hands.

Two weeks after Wally’s death and the expulsion of those bastards from her planet, it’s this little known fact–that the faces of his eels will always reveal the emotions that Kaldur himself buries under ten metric tons of emotionally repressive rock–that tips her off to the fact that Kaldur is not okay.

They–meaning herself, M’gann, and Conner, who are at the moment the only members of the original team who are really coping with what’s happened–have gathered the original team together for a beach day. Like old times, M’gann says, as she lays a plate of snicker doodles–Wally’s favorite, Artemis remembers with a hollow pang–on the picnic table.

As therapy days go, it isn’t bad, but it’s also isn’t great.

“Come on, fishsticks,” Artemis shouts across the net to Kaldur. It’s him and M’gann against herself and Conner. Dick sits on the side, ostensibly playing ref but in reality brooding over a strawberry margarita. “Spike it! I dare ya!”

Kaldur smiles at her, challenging, and does exactly that. Conner, as expected, manages to dive low, catching the ball with a fist. It goes soaring, high, high, before an invisible force catches it and drives it back into the sand on their side of the net.

“Hey!” Artemis shouts, pointing at M’gann. “Blatant cheating!”

M’gann grins, eyes fading to their normal color from their tell-tale glow. She turns to Dick. “What does the ref say?”

Dick, the brooding idiot, looks up from trying to find the meaning of life in his margarita. “Umm. No foul?” He says uncertainly, guilt written across his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Artemis mutters, and trudges through the thick sand to Dick’s spot underneath the umbrella. “Okay, break time. Let’s get in the water, bird boy,” she says, pulling him out into the sun.

Dick hisses, pulling non-committaly against her grip. “I thought cats hated water,” he gripes, and she can’t help but grin. It’s a stupid joke, yeah, but it’s also the first one he’s made all day.

“Tigers actually love water,” Connor interjects, pulling his shirt over his head. Casually, he wrests Dick from Artemis’s grasp, holding him over his head and walking calmly over to the sea. M’gann floats sedately after them, shifting her cloths from a shirt and shorts to a one piece.

“Traitors!” Dick yells, laughing despite himself, wriggling pointlessly. “Ruffians! Kaldur, help!”

“This is a battle you must fight alone, my friend,” Kaldur says solemnly, sitting down in the sand to watch the chaos.

Artemis settles beside him, watching as M’gann and Connor pull their struggling friend into the water. The scene quickly devolves into a splash fight–a fight in which Dick, who lacks both super strength and the ability to psychically create walls of water, is hilariously outmatched in.

“Why don’t you join them?” Artemis questions, not unkindly. “You’d kick all of our asses in a water war.”

Kaldur sighs, crossing his hands over his chest. Her eyes flick down to the eels, noting with a sinking stomach that, despite his relaxed demeanor, their expressions are twisted in anxiety and, she thinks, sorrow.

She looks back up as he prepares to speak, something sour building in her throat as she sees that none of these feelings are portrayed on his own face.

“I feel that would be unfair,” he says with a gentle smile.

Artemis frowns. The smile manages to reach his eyes. Anyone who didn’t know about the eels would buy this, hook line and sinker, and she hates how good he has gotten at acting.

“They would love to have you,” she prods, gesturing. “I’m sure Dick would appreciate the backup.”

Kaldur’s smile tightens, but doesn’t drop. “I am sure he will be fine,” he says, evasive.

Artemis frowns. “The point of this whole thing is for us to have fun together,” she says, standing. She leans down, reaching for his hand. The eel’s expression twists tighter, though Kaldur’s smile remains the same. “C’mon,” she wheedles. “Join us.”

Kaldur flinches away, finally allowing the smile to drop. He goes blank, showing nothing. “It would not be a good idea,” he says, firm. “But thank you.”

It’s not until later, when she overhears an argument between Black Canary and Aquaman, that she learns that Kaldur has been exiled from Atlantis and is no longer welcome in any ocean.

—

“You’re an idiot,” she tells Roy Harper, while they sit on a roof top and watch the sunset behind Star City’s horizon.

“What’s new,” he grumbles, throwing back the last slug of his beer. It’s the only one he’ll have tonight, responsible adult that he is now. She thanks the universe every day that Lian has him as a father.

Now if only he’d be as good a boyfriend to her best friend as he’s been a father to her neice, she could rest easily.

“Seriously though,” Artemis gripes, poking him in the side with her own beer. It’s her third, because she doesn’t have a kid to look after, and it is a Friday. She dodges his half-hearted swipe at her head, grinning. “Why don’t you go for it? He’s been in love with you for years.”

Roy sighs, lying back on the warm concrete, legs kicking in the open air. “It’s not that simple.”

Artemis kicks his shin. “Yeah, it is.”

Roy props himself up on his elbows, squinting at her in the fading sunlight. Small lines crinkle in the corner of his eyes, signs of age brought on early from a life hard lived, and she kicks him harder. “Fucking ow,” he gripes. “Look, it’s not–It’s not about what Kaldur feels. He doesn’t want it.”

Artemis scoffs. “The fuck gave you that idea?”

“Do you know anything about Atlantis?” Roy snaps. “Like, at all?”

“I know his tattoos smile whenever you’re around,” she snaps back. “That doesn’t happen for just anyone, asshole.”

“Not about Kaldur, you doof, about Atlantis. In general.”

“Not really,” Artemis shrugs. “I know they exiled him for a while, like, a couple years ago. And that Garth got the exile repealed. I know about Purists. What else is there?”

Roy sighs, curling his body back up to look her in the eyes. His gaze is tired, and she suddenly feels a little bad for disrupting what was probably one of the only relaxing moments he’s had in days, at least.

“Atlantis isn’t the greatest, when it comes to people like you and me,” Roy says, blunt. “We both know Kaldur’s as queer as a three dollar bill, same as, like, half the fucking team. Atlantean culture? Not so cool with that. Kaldur’s gotten better, but he still has issues.”

“Atlantis is homophobic?” Artemis repeats, honestly shocked. “But Garth, and Tula, and La’gann—“

“—Don’t know,” Roy finishes for her. “He’s not exactly vocal about it. How do you even know?”

“From the way he looks at you,” Artemis replies, something cold settling in her stomach. “And back in twenty-fourteen, at that Solstice party. His tattoos gave it away, more than anything, the way they grinned while you were dancing with him.”

“You’re annoyingly observant, you know that?” Roy grumbles, thumbing the label off his beer bottle. “Look, you’re probably one of the only people in the whole League who has noticed either of those things. And Kaldur—he’s gotten a lot better, than he used to be. He doesn’t hate himself like he used too. Can’t, considering who his friends are. But I don’t know if he’ll ever be in a place where he wants to act on this…thing, we’ve got.”

“What about you?” Artemis presses, nudging her foot gently against Roy’s own. She looks over her shoulder, eyes widening briefly. Carefully, she raises her voice ever-so-slightly. “How about you, Roy? Do you want a relationship with Kaldur?”

Roy scoffs, eyes fixed on the horizon, the setting sun. He doesn’t notice Artemis’s distraction, and raises his volume automatically to match her own. “Of course I do. I’ve been in love with him for years. If I thought for a second he’d go for it—“ Roy finishes with a shrug. “You’d never get me off of him.”

Artemis grins over her shoulder, feet kicking against the roof’s ledge in glee. “That’s great,” she says, cat’s grin curling her lips, smug. “Kaldur? What do you think?”

Roy curses, twisting.

Kaldur stands on the roof, six-pack clenched in one webbed hand, the other covering his gaping mouth. He’s blushing furiously, and the eels on his hands have half-moon grins.

“I—“ he stammers, and Artemis jumps up, taking the six pack easily from his shocked grip.

“It looks like the two of you have a lot to talk about,” she says smugly, and saunters back down the fire escape.

The next day, during the weekly League Council meeting, she can’t help but notice, detail oriented as she is, that the eels are still grinning.

#kaldur #artemis crock #seaarrow #spitfire #young justice #koy #roy harper #mine

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shmengels · 7 years

Text

Labor of Love

Fullmetal Alchemist (Ed x Winry)

Word count: 2285 - FF.net - AO3

He was a middle aged businessman. A native to Rush Valley for most of his life. He sold higher quality automail parts at his shop on the other side of town and like many others here, he had an automail limb. Most of his left forearm and down was lost to an accident in his younger days. Though he wasn’t a mechanic himself, he knew quality when he saw it, and he knew that the young apprentice of Mr. Garfiel was nothing short of prodigal. It was common knowledge around here after all. The man sat idly on a bench within Atelier Garfiel.

He had made an appointment for her first opening that morning, trying to beat the midday bustle of the crowds across the city, so it was surprising to find the mechanic already in the front shop with another customer.

He looked down at his watch. It read ten after the hour. Ten minutes later than his appointment was scheduled for. The girl had simply told him when he had entered the shop those ten minutes earlier, that she wouldn’t be much longer before asking him to have a seat anywhere. So here he sat, waiting his turn, watching her tinker on a young man’s automail right arm.

He felt as though he should be upset that his appointment was delayed by another customer, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. Everyone knew Miss Rockbell was nothing if not orderly and automail repair took time after all. Still, he swore he’d asked for the earliest available time.

Glancing to his side he noticed her schedule for that day was laid on the workbench. Just as expected, it was completely packed from open to close; her services were wildly popular with residents of the city of amputees. Scanning back up the mechanic’s agenda, he saw that he was in fact the first name listed on the appointment chart. Slated at seven a.m. sharp. It was now a quarter after seven.

He turned back to observe the current customer’s maintenance. Though, it’d be unfair to call it maintenance, it looked more like a total overhaul of his arm from roughly the elbow down. At least that’s what he gathered from the tools and scrap parts strewn about the place. By the looks of things, she’d been at work on the arm for a couple of hours now. How the boy attained such extensive damage to his prosthetic, he didn’t know. Poor kid, must have been a hell of an accident. And not just the recent damages, clearly whatever took the arm in the first place was not a pretty scenario to mull over.

From his first impressions of the lad’s physique, he’d have to guess he was a farm hand; though the choice of clothing was perhaps a tad eccentric. Maybe he lost it to some machinery. Regardless of how, it must have been traumatic. The false limb reached all the way to his shoulder. He must have certainly been within inches of meeting his maker.

On the topic of the boy’s automail arm, it was...

Well…

There was no other way to describe it.

It was perfection.

Only for a moment did he consider that it must have been the work of some unknown master, far from Rush Valley. Then he noted the familiarity with which the young woman weaved her way through the inner mechanisms. There was no doubt about it, she must have made it herself.

The young man’s metal arm was faced palm up with the panel on the back of his forearm removed, giving a clear view of the complex web within. The businessman could only gawk at the pinnacle of automail design before him. Every wire, every rod, connection, gear, rotor, and hinge was clearly placed with the utmost care for ease of access, weight distribution, and versatile range of motion. Not just the design, the parts themselves were even of extraordinary quality. He’d seen many of them before passing through his shop or at displays throughout the town. They were on par with the most skilled artisans of machinery, and were generally reserved for the highest bidders. Many of these would have needed to be special ordered, they weren’t readily available at the drop of a hat. No part was either too large or too small. Yes, every piece must have been individually sized and fit for this arm. No replaceable parts to speak of. And it was clearly practical too. The metals used were highly durable, able to withstand literally tons of force. Yet, simultaneously feather light; relatively speaking of course. The metal composition must have been handpicked.

For a moment, the man wondered again what could have caused so much damage to such a resilient limb.

The arm may have been a beast, but it was beautiful one as well. If you removed the need for any functionality, it could have been placed alongside the works of the great sculptors of ancient Aerugo. It was made to have the appearance of a totally anatomically correct arm, perfectly proportioned to its wearer. It seemed as though it was made to not just be a useful replacement for the lost appendage, but to make the poor soul forget he ever lost it to begin with.

The businessman hadn’t seen commercial automail quite like this before. In fact, he’d hardly seen better in the hands of military engineers, aside from maybe those ones they had way up north. The sheer effort of design, testing, and implementation for a final product so streamlined and optimized must have taken a month minimum. And that’s assuming she didn’t have other responsibilities to take care of, which of course she would normally.

This arm must have been months, if not years in the making. Of course to a layman’s eye, they’d probably have guessed a few days. Now that was just ridiculous! To someone like himself, who had been around automail for most of his life, he knew the definition of quality. And as an entrepreneur of the industry, he knew just how pricey that work could run someone. He didn’t even want to think about having to empty his coffers for automail as good as this boy’s.

He returned from his thoughts, noting that Miss Rockbell seemed to be at the tail end of a lecture on the practice and importance of a long list of maintenance techniques. The young man looked annoyed but listened nonetheless. How, he thought, this boy could be at all aggravated when he had a work of art for a right arm was beyond him.

The boy stood up from the table at which he sat, walking towards a suitcase with a red coat draped over it near the entrance while the young mechanic milled about, returning tools to their correct drawers and shelves. He gathered from their conversations earlier, that this young man was apparently an alchemist. He could be employed by the state, which would explain the higher quality prosthetic, not to mention where he got the money to pay for it. However, at such a young age that seemed unlikely…

“So, how much do I owe you this time?”

Miss Rockbell looked up from brushing metal shavings off the workbench, apparently surprised to hear him speak. She stared blankly at him for only a second before closing her eyes with a smirk.

“Well I should make you pay double for dropping by on such short notice…”

The boy appeared firmly irritated before sighing and reaching to his pocket.

“…But I suppose I can manage with the usual payment.”

The boy paused and glanced back at her, somewhat perplexed. He grinned and continued to pull out a wad of bills, which he quickly thumbed through and handed to the blonde mechanic.

She didn’t even bother to double check the amount she was given before shoving it into her own pocket.

This whole exchange was getting more and more unusual for the businessman. Normally when transactions were completed, a bill of sale was issued to be paid usually within the week, if not already covered upfront. These things were very professional, especially in a master craftsmen’s shop like Garfiel’s. But she didn’t have anything for him.

By now, the young alchemist was sauntering down the street, being joined by an enormous man wearing a vintage looking suit of armor whom had apparently been waiting outside. Miss Rockbell, noticing them leaving, quickly ran from her tidying to the door yelling after them,

“And don’t forget to oil it regularly!”

If the alchemist heard her he didn’t react.

She cupped her hands around her mouth as if to make sure he would hear her this time,

“And call ahead next time!”

The boy didn’t turn, but merely raised his nonmetallic hand in a half wave.

She stood there for a few seconds watching them go, before turning back to the seemingly forgotten customer, smiling brightly.

“Sorry about the wait, I just had to finish up with him.”

The man wanted to ask about the odd circumstances of the appointment, but he let it pass.

“It’s quite alright Miss Rockbell! I know you have many folks to attend to.”

Her smile grew, content that he wasn’t upset by the delay, and went to gather supplies to begin the man’s maintenance.

While she darted around the shop, he examined his own arm, comparing it in his mind to that of that young man’s that had just left. His was also constructed by Miss Rockbell, completely from scratch. Though, it was nowhere near as exceptional as the boy’s had been. His curious mind got the better of him and he finally voiced his questions.

“So Miss Rockbell, I wasn’t aware you took special orders.”

“I don’t.”

She hadn’t turned or hesitated to answer.

“Well surely you must, all mechanics here do. If a customer wanted to pay more for a higher quality you would, correct?”

The man was perplexed that she would attempt to deny it when the evidence had been in front of him no more than five minutes earlier.

She had now returned to him with an armful of tools. Sitting on a stool, she began to arrange them next to his arm which was resting on the workbench.

She laughed lightly.

“I have the same rates for everyone, and I always put my all into each and every piece of automail my hands touch. So, none of my customers should ever have to worry about any of my prosthetics being better or worse than another.”

Now the man was wholly confused.

“Sorry to pry into your business Miss, but that boy that was just in here, your last customer-“

She glanced up at the mention of ‘customer’.

“-he had an automail arm of yours correct?”

She watched him carefully. She was beginning to catch on where he was going with this.

“Yes. And a leg too…”

“I couldn’t help but notice the amazing quality of that young lad’s automail, surely it must have cost a small fortune!”

She had now begun testing the maneuverability of his fingers.

“I don’t make him pay any more than any of my customers.”

“But Miss Rockbell, I’ve rarely seen such exceptional work, even here in the automail capital of the world! You could easily earn five times the standard rates on a piece like that!”

Pausing in her inspection, she responded slowly,

“Maybe I could, but there’s…”

She looked thoughtful, perhaps apprehensive to even continue.

“I’m afraid there’s more put into that automail than I could ever give to my other clients.”

The man watched her grow more solemn, realizing that his worries of favoritism were not being denied.

She continued to work for a few minutes in silence before speaking up,

“To be honest, I wouldn’t charge him a thing if he didn’t insist.”

After a moment she became visibly uneasy, stammering out a more thorough explanation before the man grew upset at having his mechanic reveal that she lets particular customers get freebies.

“I-I don’t want to sound like I’m prioritizing my customers, which I promise I don’t! Only him! I-I mean-”

She sighed before continuing,

“He might not think so, but let’s just say I owe it to him…”

So that was it. There was something more personal with the client in question. Yet, he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t offer this service up to anyone else. She’d be the richest automail mechanic to ever grace the field of mechanical prosthetics if she wanted to. Again, he tried to sell his case as to why she should open up to custom commissions.

“Miss Rockbell, I can understand that you may not feel the need to charge that young man more but please, people around here would die to get automail of that quality! I know you’re well versed but I shouldn’t need to tell you that in that arm alone are some of the highest quality materials, most advanced mechanical designs to date, the most precise-“

His frantic rant about her masterful work was cut off by the mechanic’s cheery laughter. Dumbfounded by her reaction, he attempted to finish his point,

“Miss, that was one of the best pieces of automail I’ve ever see-”

“Well it better be!”

She was now grinning ear to ear, clearly proud of the high praise. She turned her gaze beyond the shops front entrance to where the morning sun was slowly rising higher above the mountains. Her smile fell ever so slightly, and her bright eyes became distant as if she were someplace beyond those peaks with the golden sun.

“Sometimes, it seems like the only thing I have to keep him safe...”

#fma #fmab #fma fanfiction #fmab fanfiction #edward elric #winry rockbell #edwin #ed x winry #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemsit brotherhood

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