#be the perfectly molded child they wanted u to be and they will not hurt you so badly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 4 years

Note

Omg I loved the last one shot you wrote with the reader being in the resistance base and taking care of Kylo! I would love to see another part for it and see what will happen when the reader discovers the truth of who he is.

OMG ur one shot with kylo and him being injured i absolutely adore it and need a continuation !! ur writing is amazing too !!

thank u everyone for ur kind words and support 🥺🧡 u be asking i be giving . i mean .... prepare for some angst? yes? 8k words baby. also, same goes as always, if u want a continuation let me know ! xx

tags ( i wasnt able to tag some people!:( ): @taina-eny -- @shesakillerkween -- @leilei-draws -- @mitsuhkai -- @olivebolivee -- @fav-fan-fic -- @punxataniunderworld

requests are open! | masterlist | part 1.

Long tendrils of smoke rise slowly, spiraling into a clear, starry sky. Jet fuel ignited by a match; angry, red sparks glittering in the dark. It’s hot. Though it’s not the familiar, comforting heat of the wilderness, of the jungle you live in, nor is it the scratchy, dry heat of the deserts you grew up surrounded by. This heat is different, molding, tangible and felt deep within you. It spreads, achingly almost. Shortness of breath, of thought; the world is too quick, too fleeting for you to catch up and everything spins so wonderfully. Desire; the world is wax dripping from your fingers; red dots, red hues, bright orange flames. But that desire twists, rags your body and grows to...

Rage. It hits you in waves and you tremble. Violent shivers and horror; anger fueled by such uncontrollable passion that it goes beyond you, reaching for something, for anything to grasp onto. It destroys. It destroys everything around you. It’s a machine coming from within you; the small specter of purity now devoured by such hate directed at no one in particular that you come undone — nothing left, not even you. Just anger and power — a combination of the most terrible kind.

But this rage is not your own. It’s borrowed. Adapted to you. Fitted perfectly for your flesh, yet still a foreign entity latched onto your bones, no, this goes deeper, latched onto whatever makes you — you.

It is so easy to slip into it that it hardly registers. That raw energy within you twists and burns and you want to hurt someone because you are so hurt that you feel like you might die. One life to save yours; then, however many should follow, anything to keep that pain at bay. You don’t consider it much, you don’t have the capacity to. Blisters; it feels like you’re standing on the surface of a sun.

Where did this anger come from? Who deformed you so horribly? There’s a pull — a gentle tug that feels like a caress from a lover — that wants to turn you back; to purge the rage, the red, the dark, and bring you back into the light. But the pain stays, persistent, at home within you. It’s trying to tell you something. To make you understand. To make you feel what he feels.

And then—

You fall out of bed, breathless and terrified and soaked head to toe in cold sweat. You scramble away from your bed in blind panic, trembling and pressing your back against the icy wall of your bedroom. Your heart beats like a wild drum; your pulse is loud and violent in your ears. You raise your hands to touch your face, to grasp onto reality, to make sure that you are still you. A sigh of relief escapes you and all your energy with it. You slump, cast your head down in shame. You had never felt so... Strongly. You had felt anger, grief, passion— but never so visceral, never so raw. It terrifies you that you are even capable of feeling so, in a dream or not.

Whatever it was that had possessed you had left you feeling hollow. Numb. All your strength had been wasted in destruction of dream worlds that were, up till now, mostly pleasant. Whatever it was you don’t want it to return, ever. The pain was too much. The hate too real. And the potential of that power... Frightening beyond compare.

Your room is bathed in pleasant morning light - dawn is always beautiful and silent. You had slept for possibly only a few hours. You get up, your knees cracking from the weight of your body. Using the wall for support you decide to get ready. You will not sleep. You cannot. The carnal fear of the darkness behind your lashes is reminiscent of that of a child seeing scary shapes in the night.

You’re early to breakfast, though the cafeteria is already festering with life. You give a few waves to your colleagues, offer a few tired smiles when they chirp “Morning, Seven!”. With your tray full you stride to your table, noting that one seat is already occupied — July. He regards you with cold indifference, quietly drinking his coffee. If he is surprised to see you up so early, he does not show it.

Suddenly you hate the silence. The stiffness. The cafeteria echoes with snippets of chatter and laughs yet your table is a crypt — stale and uncomfortable. You can’t be alone with your thoughts. They still don’t feel like your own.

“Hello,” is your lame attempt at conversation. July grumbles something, chewing on his food, “decided get an early start today.” You explain yourself, not that you need to, but you feel better letting him believe this lie and yourself, too. “Taking pointers from you.” You add, taking a sip of water. It feels like a blade going down your throat. You hadn’t even noticed how parched you had been.

“Great,” July mumbles, “congratulations. You’re finally taking this seriously.”

“I’ve always taken this seriously.” You bite back, “War is no trifling matter.”

He snorts, “Could have fooled me.”

You don’t like his tone. Then again, it is your fault for engaging him in the first place. No one to blame but yourself.

In an attempt at casualness, you shrug, “You are still mad at me for not getting rid of our guest, aren’t you?” You don’t say his name. July would find it suspicious. You don’t dare share it. It was a secret passed on to you as a show of trust. You can’t break it, not even among friends.

A frown pulls on his face, cool, steel eyes locking yours, “You’re fraternizing with the enemy.”

“He is not the enemy.” You reply coolly, chest heaving with controlled frustration, “I conducted the interview. I did what we had all agreed on. I relayed the results and you were part of that discussion as well, if you had forgotten already. No threat was detected.”

“At the time.” He says hotly, setting his cup down harsher than intended. It echoes, a cracking, unpleasant sound, “There was no threat at the time.”

The wild flame in his eyes takes you aback. He had always been paranoid and it mostly never had any backing to it. But now he speaks with conviction; grits his words and laces them with honesty. He knows something. Something you don’t.

You sit up straight, swallowing down your concern before it reaches your face. “Elaborate.”

He looks away suddenly, irritated, scowling almost. Familiar tendrils of anger slither around your throat and your grit your teeth. You know better than this, better than arguing with him, better than stooping to his level of mindless shouting. It takes all of your willpower just to keep your mouth shut.

“Ah— Someone stepped out of bed on the wrong foot, as it seems.” Q’s pleasant voice chirps as they promptly plop down beside you, “Seven. July. Do hope the arguing will at least wait till lunch.”

“Fat chance!” Vendetta grins, sitting beside July and dropping her tray on the table with a silent click, “Look at them.” She snickers, “I know who’s fighting who at combat training today.”

“Perfect timing, you two.” You blur, your eyes drilling into July’s profile, not once wavering, “July just said something interesting about our guest.” The temperature, the warmth your two friends brought with them, seems to drop as their laughter abruptly cuts off, “In fact, he was almost insistent that our only patient in the Medical Wing is a threat. Know anything about it?” You finish quietly. You almost expect exasperated stares, surprised faces, hisses of “What?!” and “July, not this again...”. But nothing changes. Nothing comes. Just quiet admission. First blossoms of guilt.

You had always assumed that if your group of four would ever break into three it would be July as the odd man out. Not for any particular fault of his, but out of pure convenience. Vendetta is charismatic; Q is adaptable; you are compassionate. July is, despite his brilliance, almost deliberately difficult. The three of you fit like puzzle pieces, harmonious. You never withhold information from them, never needed to. The four of your share everything, no detail left behind.

Though it seems that your observation was paltry. They share looks and you realize that it’s no longer a quartet but rather a triad. You are left to sink or swim on your own.

“Seven, we...” Vendetta starts, thoughtful, gentle; her hand reaches for your own across the table but you pull it away and she stills, disappointed, “We...” She glances around, “We were going to tell you, but...We...”

“—Had no proof.” Q mutters bitterly, their face uncharacteristically blank, “Besides, of course, the mystery of his past, his sudden appearance, his... Unpleasant behavior.” They squeeze out the last part with a sour little smile.

“Seven, please, listen to me.” V tries to catch your attention, yet you stubbornly stare into your plate of food, “There is just...Something not right with him. It’s like this inching in my chest, I...I think I heard him...talking in his sleep again. Something about a base, but I-” At this you look up at her, and her face crumbles into a soft frown. “I would never lie to you, you must believe me. I just--“ She sighs, frustrated, “I just don’t know what, but something is wrong. I can feel it.”

“I told you not to trust him,” July states, “I said it since you—“ He points accusingly in your direction, “decided to drag him in.” He scoffs, “Should have left him to die.”

Something cracks within you. Something that sounds close to a ceramic cup shattering on linoleum. It spills over like hot liquid all over you, scalding. You pull your chair back suddenly. It’s a knee jerk reaction that halts the chatter and the laughter and the mindless bits of gossip as all eyes turn to you. You say nothing. Just stare. The unspoken “How dare you” fizzling at the tip of your tongue that now feels too big for your mouth. Your muscles cramp up; dull pain in your upper arms, your legs, your chest. You’re trembling again, eyes wide, dry, stinging.

“July.” Q hisses, “Even if we feel something amiss, he is still a person.”

You remember it clearly — the evening you met July. He wore a hard shell, scarred from life before finding the base, before finding a purpose. He was hard to approach and those who dared to glance at him withered away into the shadows. But you saw a glimmer of hope, of light; saw something in a man that has been wronged and has done wrong and now wants to devote his life to protect. He regarded you with the same cold stare, measuring you, challenging you to turn away like everyone else. But you invited him. You were the one that said that the Resistance is happy to have you. You were the one to offer him a seat by your table, Vendetta chirping and blushing and cooing once he joined. And even if he stayed silent through the conversation, you knew that he was glad to be here. Glad to find companionship. Glad to be among those who too want only one thing: to help.

Then came Q, a year later. A group that was equal amounts tough as it was tender was formed. A group of leaders. Nothing ever felt so right as to sit among them.

Now you feel like you’re drowning.

“You’ve changed.” You rasp, boring into July’s eyes. He does not back down, he never does.

“So have you.” He says evenly, “I have never seen you as irritated as I have this week. It’s affecting you. He’s affecting you.” If you did not know any better, you would say there’s a note of worry in his voice. But you always know better. It’s pity.

You decide that you hate him. You decide that you will never be able to look at him the same way, with the same distant respect, with solidarity. You hate him and you hate that he’s right. You have changed. Everyone has. You aren’t the scared, naive girl that ran away from home in hopes of finding something greater. Greater as in friendships; greater as in happiness. It was never about riches or fame or any other form of empty opulence. You wanted to help because you knew how it feels like to be helpless. And perhaps this week had been the most trying: you had been sleeping little, tossing and turning all night, staying up past dawn as to not draw any suspicion. Had been hitting harder than necessary in training. Had been less lively in conversation. You were one of the best because you needed to be in order to protect those who could not protect themselves. It was the source from which you drew your strength. But now that had shifted subtly in wanting to win. Wanting something for yourself. You always offer everything to the world, why can’t it give you something in return?

“That’s enough, July.” Q mutters calmly, their hand landing on your shoulder, a warm, comforting gesture that fills you to the brim with sadness. “You had said enough.”

You exhale a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment to collect your thoughts. Honesty had always been your policy. Honesty is the currency of your group. You are fighters, but you are also diplomats. Vulnerability is the price of compassion.

“I feel responsible.” You finally say, “For him.” You clarify, “I brought him here. I enlisted you to help and share our resources. He is my responsibility. And if you feel that he is unfit to be here, or that he threatens our values in any way, I shall make sure to deal with him accordingly and I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions should it come to it.” You finish dryly.

“He’s not your responsibility, Seven.” Vendetta mutters, “He’s ours. We’re a team. A family.” Q squeezes your shoulder, silently agreeing with her words. Her lips slowly rise into a loving smile, “And we’re worried about you. You seem tired. Let me bring him food today.” She suggests gently, “I can keep him company. That or, I know Michel is dying for a chance to talk to him.”

“You don’t have to carry this weight alone.” Q says, “A little break can’t hurt, can it?” He glances at July, “Once our heads are cooled...We’ll discuss this in detail at dinner. No stone left unturned. If the decision is unanimous, we bring it to the Commander. All in favor?”

“Aye.” Vendetta chimes. You nod stiffly. All eyes fall on July.

“You already know what I think.” He mumbles, “But very well. We meet at twilight.”

The day is long. Hours pass in a slow daze and exhaustion nearly crushes by the time a little over two hours is left till dinner. Dread grows and fester; it’s hard to breathe, and the humid air is constricting. You can’t help but feel how different things had been barely a week ago, and how rapidly and uncontrollably they have changed. It should be just another day in stolen paradise; just another day in the line of days before you are, as the rest, called into the main base. Finally ready. You had felt ready. Now you feel uncertain to the brink of madness. How easily your friends had turned... How easily you had been turned. But despite their concerns you fail to see any hidden evil in the man now know to you as Ben.

But perhaps that’s the point. Evil rejoices in the presence of naivety.

You feel him before you actually see him. It’s a sort of warning bell; a presence carried by the wind. You turn your head slightly, wiping away beads of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. You’re on the porch, in the same spot you had found Ben brooding last night. His footsteps are quick and heavy and his hand latches onto your upper arm, yanking you to face him.

“Where were you?” His question is demanding and a twinge of anger burns in his hazel eyes. All thoughts rush out your head with that; you stare dumbfounded, your lips parting to speak but the words sizzle and die on the tip of your tongue. His face contorts, the prominent anger shifting to confusion, “Have they been keeping you away from me?”

An astute observation. Eerily correct.

“What? No!” You say quickly, shrugging out of his hold and crossing your arms over your chest in pretend casualness, “Just been busy today! Lot’s of shipments, new training regime, yada yada...” He traces your face carefully for a lie, but whether he catches it or not you can’t tell. “How... How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He states coldly, irritation dripping in his tone. His brows knit into a frown and he looks away, peers into the wilderness. Pensive. Something lays heavy on his mind and all your intuition born last night evaporates. Nothing. No whispers. Not even a slither of familiarity. The connection you felt had been cut like a thread with scissors.

Is he actively pretending yesterday did not happen? The thought sounds plausible: he’s volatile and prideful, after all. “What are you doing up and about?” You inquire, matching his cool tone.

He exhales through his nose sharply, “Can you take me to the place you found me?”

You blink. He looks at you, expectant. “I...Sure.” You relent under his stare, “Yea, I... Follow me.”

Silence from his part. His lips are shut tightly as he follows after you into the maze of tall trees. Birdsong; buzz of insects; dangerous hums and hisses from creatures hidden in the bushes. The sun is merely a kaleidoscope of shapes seeping through the branches and leaves. The heat intensifies. You feel a prickling in your spine -- he’s watching you intently. His guard is up and so is yours. After everything you had heard today confusion is the only palpable emotion you can name. Can he see it, you wonder. Can he tell that the tension in your shoulders is because of him. You trust him, at the very least, you thought you did. But now he’s luring you into seclusion.

Or are you luring him? You could have said no. Or you could have agreed and went to fetch your blaster just in case. But you didn’t. Obeyed blindly without question. He is not the authority here, you are.

“That woman brought me breakfast today.” He says coldly. You tilt your head to him, inclining him to continue. That woman. Vendetta.He doesn’t continue. It’s almost like he’s complaining.

“Yes, I asked her to.” You say softly, “I told you already I was busy.”

“You didn’t look busy.” He counters hotly.

“Ben.” You say sternly, stopping, turning to him fully to catch his gaze. He’s so much taller than you that it’s difficult to not be intimidated, “My world does not revolve around you.” He gulps at your words, glaring, “And her name is Vendetta. The least you could do is remember that.”

You continue the trek forward. He’s silent, moody. You focus on not tripping on roots and stray branches; focus on keeping your balance once passing through small slivers of ground between sudden drops to the caves bellow.

Finally, a clearing. Water flows and twists like a serpent, glimmering in sunlight, splashing joyously. The river is long and wide and there is no bridge connecting the two sides, just piles of slippery stones. It’s a challenge getting past it, yet you did so almost every other day. The beauty of untamed nature cannot be compared to anything, and getting lost in it is liberating.

You hop on the first rock, then the second. The water is loud; the current is strong and it splashes your feet.

“Are you angry with me?” He asks silently. You jump and feel the knot in your throat tighten. You wobble and your arms stretch wide to keep balance and you promptly still.

“No, Ben, I’m not angry.” You admit, a bit breathless, but don’t elaborate any further. You are not sure if you’re telling the truth or not. You don’t want to think about it.

“Did you really find me so far out?” He continues questioning.

“Yes.” You mumble, “Why? Do you think I’m lying to you?”

“I never said that.”

“But you thought about it.”

“Oh, so you can read my mind now?”

“It’s not that difficult to tell what you’re thinking, you know.” You state sharply.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You still. A flare of anger rises from your chest to your throat and it take everything you have to control the frustrated sigh from escaping. Your hands ball into fists. Sweat drips from your forehead. With a dry mouth you turn to him, careful of your footing, finding him closer than you expected and just as irritated as you. His brows are kit into a frown, lips turned downward, chest heaving. A soft breeze kisses your heating cheeks, your shoulders, ruffles his dark hair.

“Exactly what you think it means,” You snap, “you’re always angry, always displeased, ordering everyone around, assaulting” You stress the word, “ or berating if something doesn’t go your way. Being secretive and malicious and just when I think I’m starting to understand you, you demand and demand and I literally can’t say anything or else you’ll be upset and then who knows what you’ll do.” You rant, “And all I wanted, all we wanted, was to help you. But you-” You jab your finger into his chest; an action eerily similar to what July did to you this morning, “-you treat us like we’re your servants. Can’t even bother to remember the name of the doctor that had been taking care of you all week. We could’ve left you to die.”

He grabs your wrist, squeezing tightly, pulling it away from his chest, “I never asked for your help.” He growls.

“But you got it anyway,” You retort, voice dripping with venom, “though I suppose you’re too arrogant to even say thank you. You spoiled, selfish, inconsiderate prick-”

“You don’t know me.” He seethes.

“I know everything I need to know about you.”

He falters for a second, something akin to disappointment flashing in his eyes but it’s gone before you can name it, “You do?” He sounds smug, in a cold, displeased way, “Ah, you do.” His grip loosens and you yank your wrist from his hold, fire raging in your chest. What a condescending look.

You’re so heated that you feel like you might cry. Now you see what July, what Q, what Vendetta see when they look at him - a malevolent, resentful asshole. How could he have fooled you? Was it the pretty eyes and the confused puppy-like stare? His sharp handsome features? Low voice, pleasant when whispered? All a font. You feel ill. Tarnished in some subtle but irreversible way. You don’t want to take him anywhere, you just want him to leave. A part of you wants to run away and leave him stranded, or push him into the water and watch satisfied as the current carried him away.

You genuinely believed you had formed some sort of a connection, as silly as that sounds. You hadn’t known him for long, but what you felt was real and it was special. But this is not the same man that did not let go of your hand, that did not want to left alone in the rain.

You shake your head, “You make me sick.”

He has no reply to that. He looks away, almost ashamed, and you turn back to the stones you stand on, the slippery rock unstable under your feet. The sky lights up with first shades of pink. Twilight is approaching.

The sooner you take him there and back the sooner you can request him to be escorted out of the premises, taken where he needs to go. And then this will all be over. He will be nothing but an unpleasant memory. The thought does not make you feel any better, rather it makes you feel hollow, like a balloon, acutely aware of the emptiness within you.

You continue forward in ill-tempered steps. You just want this to be over. His presence clings to you like second skin. Electricity at your fingertips, coursing through your veins, settling in your bones. You cannot shake it, cannot shake the hurt and the discomfort and-

You slip. For a heartbeat there’s only looming dread but before you can touch the water strong arms envelope you and keep you in place. You feel him breathing behind you, his chest rising and hitting your back. He sets you down back on the rocks, letting go only after you’re out of harms way. His arms drop and the heat with them. Wordless, you continue forward, not sparing him the satisfaction of a thank you.

You suppose wishing for an uneventful journey is unrealistic; trekking through the dense, suffocating undergrowth, fighting through the heavy, still air, all the while a million wild souls observe and track you and wonder are you here to hunt or be hunted. The colors, deep evergreen and rich brown, mute once the sun is is orange and halfway down. Not far now, not far at all. That idea was the only thing keeping you from crumbling into the dirt. But today is not your day, nor his. Everything always happens for a reason, even if that reason is simply bad luck.

You had been lost in your head, and he lost in the maze of looming trees. He’s unfamiliar with the territory - you were his guiding star, ushering him to where he needs to go. But you were too absorbed; too preoccupied with your blossoming hurt, with the near obsessive need to feel it whole so you could never forgive him and not feel an ounce of it once he goes back to his damned life outside your base. But the jungle is an obstacle course that demands attention and worship. Each step careful, each parting of leaves intentional and gentle. It either allows you to advance, or it does not.

You have no one to blame but yourself. No one to curse at for the forming bruises and muddy skin. No one to yell at for the stabbing pain at your rib cage, and no one to shun because of one fatal mistake. A misstep. A confusion of left and right. The fall was instant and painful and long.

Birds gawk and spill into the violet sky like ink. You lay in the dirt, your body aching with each intake of breath. Water roars; small droplets from the waterfall sprinkle on you and you wonder just how far down had you fallen. The clearing is unfamiliar to you, but right now everything is. Ben groans beside you; you see him sit up slowly out of the corner of your eye. He pushes his hair out of his face and exhales. You can’t move. You forgot how to.

You feel cold. Something hot and sticky runs down the side of your temple, pulsing down your jaw.

“...Seven?” His voice is rough and rushed and he instantly falls by your side, his hands cradling your face, “Hey. Seven, can you hear me...?”

You remember the leaf covered ground giving out; remember falling into darkness and hitting your back harshly on the steep decline and skidding through sharp rocks and branches; remember suddenly being plunged into icy water and spat out into the air before tumbling to the ground and smacking your head into something hard and blurry.

His fingers gently wipe away the dirt from your face, “Hey, you with me...?” He calls gently, his voice silent, seeping with worry. Through your haze and confusion your find his eyes - such a pretty hazel, now darker in the shade - and manage to squeeze out a painful, crooked smile.

“...Hi.” You whisper, almost voiceless. He cracks a smile, but his lower lip quivers.

“Hi.” He mutters, “Are you okay? Can you sit?”

You try to move but it proves to be too difficult. Noticing your struggle and sluggish movements, he gently eases you into a sitting position, his hold strong but not forceful, not even an echo to what it had been on the rocks. Your head spins, too heavy, buzzing. You gingerly lay it on his shoulder. Water laps by your feet. You are dripping from head to toe. The breeze makes you shiver, and he carefully wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers pushing strands of wet hair from your face.

“Do you know where we are...?”

“The jungle.”

You somehow sense he doesn’t appreciate your sarcasm.

“You’re hurt.” He laments. Weakly, you clasp onto his arm and slowly pull away from his shoulder. You’re so close your noses brush. You can feel his breath ghosting over your lips. You see worry in his eyes. You feel a twinge of life light up in your chest.

“I’m okay.” You mutter, even if it is obvious that you are not.

“I’m sorry...” He utters, his eyes, half-lit and tender, pouring into your soul. His fingers brush your cheek, trembling lightly, lastly settling on the side of your jaw, “I’m sorry,” He repeats in a breath, “This is all my fault.”

Your heart spurs to life; the same pleasant buzz of energy flows back into you in forms of butterflies. The aching relents, the sharp pain in your side easing as if soothed by a cold touch. Your hazy vision sharpens and for a moment you can see everything in its minute detail, before all goes back to normal. The pulsing in your head stops, blood drying by your temple. You blink a few times, your brows knitting into a frown, lips parting to intake a slow breath. Your hand reaches to graze his cheek.

It’s back. What ever this fragile, beautiful thing is, it has returned to you.

“Who...are you?”

Vendetta had been right, there is something different about him, but perhaps not in the way she had intended.

“I’m Ben.” He says softly, “Just Ben.”

“No...” You observe him, “You are not.”

You feel a pull in your chest, as if you were a moon beckoned by his gravity, “How do you do it?” You ask, not quite certain what you’re referring to. A thousand questions swim in your mind and you shut your eyes, trying to focus on just one. But he still pulls you in, somehow, and gently you rest your forehead on his, each simple touch sparking a feeling of this is right and this is how it should be. Like a current of a river taking you where you need to be.

“I’m not doing anything.” He admits softly against your lips with an ache in the back of his throat.

Your eyes pry open, “Liar.” is all you say with quiet disappointment.

You untangle yourself from him and rise onto your feet, swaying a bit and he hurriedly jumps to aid you but you hold out your hand to stop him. His arms fall by his sides. The roar of the water momentarily absorbs you completely. It’s dark glimmer makes your stomach drop. You look up. The sky is already budding with stars, the last light dying by the horizon.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to return to the base now.” You mutter, a shiver crawling down your spine. Your wet clothes cling to your skin, leaving no bend and curve obscured to his watchful eye. But it doesn’t bother you, at least not as much as it should, “Before we lose light completely.”

He nods solemnly. “Why did you want to see where I found you?” You ask, knowing he will not deny you an answer. It’s that feeling, that connection, open communication that leaves him vulnerable to your prodding.

He glances away from your prying stare, his jaw locked tight. Your chest swells as you regard him — a picture of divine loneliness. You almost fall pray to it, to those whispers, to those instincts that urge you to rush to his side and comfort him. He sighs heavily, his shoulders falling. “I wanted to see if you would go with me.”

“What?” You sputter, eyes wide in disbelief, “Why?”

“Because I want you to join me.” He seems to find his voice, the first uncertain notes glossing over with purpose, “To leave with me.” The corner of his lips quirk into a half-smile, “Have you ever seen the snow?”

“No...” You admit, taking a step back, “No, I haven’t. The Rebels need me. I don’t want to leave.” You finish quietly, crossing your arms over your chest. It’s more of a comforting motion rather than a defensive one.

“But you agreed to go with me today.” He says.

“Because you asked.” You counter.

“Then I’m asking again.” He extends his hand in an offering, “Come with me.”

You stare at it, your instincts urging you to take it. But you don’t know what entails going with him; you don’t know about his life and what sort of deal you would be signing by lacing your fingers with his. A part of you wants to agree — the part which you desperately try to explain, but cannot — and the other reminds you of duty. Of your mission. It reminds you of everything you will be unable to do if you take it.

He watches you, half worried and half irked as you stare at his hand with distant eyes. He can’t read your mind, can’t hear snippets of your brooding thoughts, but he knows you’re considering his offer, and he knows that this is all a charade which will end in his victory. He knows you will accept — it is now impossible for you two to be apart, the consequences of that severe enough to burn out a star.

But you’re guarded. Your mind sits behind a wall that can’t tear down — he’s not close enough, and you won’t let him. It is most likely an unconscious effort, a shield of some sort that your untamed energy had built in order to protect you from the likes of him. He likes that. He always enjoyed a challenge: everyone always danced around him and to find someone actually worthy of his attention is a rare sight on its own. That being said, he could invade your mind, could hurt you, could force you to spill all of your secrets in one breath. But he won’t. He wants you to come to him by your own volition. He wants you to allow him into your mind because you want him to see and feel and hear everything that’s hidden behind those pretty eyes and tender smile. Therefore he will not be forceful or rough; instead he will open your eyes - sway you, offer you something for your kindness, because he cannot fathom the fact that some things in life have no price. But he knows that you will join him - sooner or later matters little in the grand scheme of things.

Though, it is his fault he is so terribly impatient.

It’s frustrating to think that the Force would connect him to you out of everyone in the universe. That must be why he’s feeling this tightness in his chest, this, if he wasn’t so prideful to admit it, fear festering inside him — you’re a member of the Resistance that is not only Force sensitive, but also now linked to him. If the Rebels should become aware of this sensitive information, there is no telling what they would do. In the First Order you would be hailed like royalty; showered with praise and opulence and given authority to do as you please, given the life so many in your base believe he has. But the Resistance would not be as kind, if they would be kind at all - they would use you, abuse you, transform you into a weapon or a helpless little lure. Because they would know he would come looking for you. He is now destined to always look for you; destined to follow you across the galaxy and back if it meant you standing by his side in the final battle. They would change you into something unrecognizable. The safest side is his, and his shadow is the only place you’d find solace. He could train you. Protect you. Allow you to harvest the power that is capable of so many beautiful, terrible things.

He knew you were Force sensitive when he first laid eyes on you — the silence was confusing and heavenly and at the same time oddly irritating. Everyone else was an open book full with loud, useless mussing, overloaded with trifling information of which the only value he found was the exact coordinates of your base. He could return any time he wished and destroy everything in a slow, arduous way that would break you down and rebuild you, make you see that he is doing you a favor if you were so stubborn that it would come to that: you had saved his life, and now he is trying to save yours. And despite your proclamation that you can tell what he’s thinking, he finds great difficulty understanding you. Kindness is alien to him. Kindness had been ripped out of him by betrayal and replaced by hate. It is the only real emotion, and the only source of his strength. If only he could tear you away from those people you call friends, then you could finally understand.

But knowing you had the Force dormant within you wasn’t enough, he needed to test you, needed to know just how far your powers went.

He didn’t expect it. To be connected. It wasn’t until you touched hands did he feel your happiness as his own.

Though it’s unstable, your connection. Wild emotions sometimes ebb and flow and pass one person to the other. And he, too, in moments of surprised vulnerability forgot to keep himself tempered and in control. His anger, hatred, all things wretched and deformed have slipped into your dreams and your day to day life. A part of him, now permanently a part of you. It felt like he finally found something he had been unknowingly searching for — a missing piece of him that has returned to make him whole. Without you, he would feel like carved bark, a half-finished project incapable of reaching its full potential. To let you go is not an option anymore.

Stronger together, he reminds himself in a scolding tone. He is not supposed to care about you, rather of what’s in you — raw, untamed power, a well of untapped potential. You are his half, and he is yours. You are connected by the Force, and there is nothing else to it. Cannot be anything else.

The human shell is hardly his point of interest.

“No,” You say, taking a small step back from him, from his offer, from the temptation, and casting your gaze down into the gleaming water, “no, I can’t go with you. I have to stay here.”

You don’t dare to look at him and see just what expression he is wearing, though you guess he’s not too happy by your rejection. You cheeks heat uncomfortably - his gesture was noble yet crafted so carefully that you suspect an ulterior motive behind it. You can’t throw your life away, not before you understand what’s actually going on between you. You clear your throat awkwardly, sparing a blank look at the swaying trees and trying to think of the best route to return home, “Come on.” You utter, “We shouldn’t be standing around here. Not safe.” You add silently.

Though you can’t help yourself. You spare a glance at him and freeze up -- it looks like you slapped him, his eyes wide with hurt and pale face blotching red. He slowly retracts his hand, his motion stiff and mechanic as if he does not know what to do with it if he’s not holding yours. It feels cold again, and you are fairly certain it has nothing to do with the lukewarm water dripping from your clothes.

Snow. You see it in quick flashes -- a white, hazy storm -- that fulls you to the brim with dread. What was it that Vendetta had said? A base somewhere existing in his memories, a place he will return to, a place where he wants to take you. A palace hidden in the snow.

July, in all his brutality, was right: you had been fraternizing with the enemy. Ilum, the planet of frost and snow and home to the Starkiller Base of the First Order. And someone from that same Order had offered you to come with.

It’s a different kind of pain -- you’d prefer the headaches after a day of mental gymnastics, the dull pain of muscles after training, the sharp stabs of a sprained ankle, the pulses and red flashes of an open wound. Anything would be better than this winter in your soul. You feel tired, in an incurable, empty way. As if you lost a half of something integral that you will never have again. Love can bloom only so much before it withers.

You turn away from him and approach the trees, not entirely certain if he’s following you or not. You feel like you’re a cloud in the sky, heavy with rain and thunder but unable to release it. The capacity for that had been robbed from you. He, you realize, is the first person in the line of people that you won’t be able to save. He’s going where you can’t follow. He’s another chess piece on the board that is this war - and one day you will face him among blood and slaughter.

It is hard to believe that mere minutes ago he had been cotton on your fingers, almost destroyed by longing he can’t explain.

Ben...To you the name is now forever cursed.

It is night when you return to your room, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind you on the alabaster floor. You collapse onto your bed, your head heavy thoughts, each more confusing and cumbersome than the last. Your agreed meeting at twilight was completely forgotten after the tumble. Somewhere half-way through the jungle you recalled that your friends might be missing you.

The door to your room slides open and you look up - Q. They watch you for a silent moment, assessing the damage: messy hair, dirtied linen clothes, blood dried on your cheek, tired, deep eyes that face the world without truly seeing anything. They clear their throat, giving you a smile, “When we noticed your absence and the absence of our esteemed guest,” They start, their voice even, diplomatic, perfectly neutral, “it is suffice to say we were frightened that you had been lured to a trap. Fallen to an early grave.” They approach you easily, taking a seat beside you and landing a hand on your knee, “Though, fall you certainly did from what I can tell.” They finish with a note of amusement.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, “He wanted to see the place where I found him and we got lost.” You explain, sparing the details. They accept your answer, even if it’s full of holes. “Did the meeting commence?”

“After we unanimously decided that you aren’t stupid enough to get yourself killed.” They huffed, “V was especially eager to send out a search party. I must admit that I was, too, swayed by the idea. July, however, as always, shot us down. Had more faith in you than us. For that, I apologize.” They pause, pensive, “But you care little for that, I suppose. You want to know what we decided.”

“Yes.”

“Your vote still counts, Seven. And if you want, we can call a-”

“No.” You cut them off sadly, “No, I agree with your decision, whatever that decision might be.”

“Then first thing tomorrow morning he will be taken to the nearest station,” They say softly, “and released from our care.”

You think you could feel sorrow if you were not so exhausted - right now the only thing you want is to shut your eyes and forget the world exists entirely. You nod stiffly, replaying the dream you had this morning. Flames like hands grasping for the sky, chaos and wind and blood -- but the smoke dies down eventually, and now you stand in the aftermath. There is nothing left, just ash.

They tap your knee once for good measure and stand up, sparing you a rueful glance.

“I may not know exactly what your, ah...situation is, per se,” Q utters, “but know that if you ever wish to share it, you can come to me. Or any of us. Even July. He may be tough, but he still cares about you. In the only way he knows how.” They stand there for a beat, waiting for you to say something, anything really, but you don’t. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Q leaves and the door shuts and you wonder if today had been real or a factitious, terrible nightmare. Perhaps you never woke up, perhaps you are still sleeping restlessly, trapped, unable to open your eyes and look at the sun with a smile while saying, “It was just a dream.”. The pain had passed leaving nothing behind. The night is dark and endless and the bleak light of your bedroom illuminates your surroundings without an ounce of warmth. Still silence, suffocating air. This blanket of loneliness lays heavy on your shoulders before it all piles and piles and--

You, laying in bed, shivering, tears crawling down your cheeks and lips red from biting, and Ben, in the Medical Wing, heaving, watching the broken glass bottles glimmering on the floor, supplies smashed, sheets thrown about haphazardly in sudden rage, feel the same scorch of heartbreak.

hope you liked it!

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nostallgias · 4 years

Text

☆ . * ( kristine froseth, cis female, she / her ) hey, look !! indigo ‘indie’ dahl aka @nostalgias is online and ready to write another anonymous post on the broken hearts club. rumor has it they’re here because she ran away from her hometown to escape her family and ex lover. out in the real world she is a musician / bartender. the 22 year old is known for being flighty & impetuous but make up for it by being vivacious & determined. if they were to describe themselves they’d say they’re chipped nail polish, lipstick stains on cigarettes, driving with the window down and their favorite song is gold dust woman by fleetwood mac.

hello everyone, i’m so happy 2 b in this rp !!! my name is diana, i’m twenty yrs old, a libra, and reside in the est timezone. some quick facts abt me ... i am a girl group stan and lana del rey enthusiast. i also luv cats. anyway, enough abt me, u can learn abt my muse indigo under the cut !!! my discord is missing blackpink hours#5522 so pls hit me up there or in the im’s for plots !! i cannot wait to get started <3 tw: briefly mentions alcoholism & drugs

☆ . * 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 !

full name : indigo dahl

nickname(s) : indie

zodiac : sagittarius sun, gemini moon ( click )

sexuality : bisexual

alignment : chaotic good

pinterest : click

☆ . * 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 !

indie grew up in a small town where everyone knows everyone. she was restless and curious, but there wasn’t much to do in a town that small

her parents were really big on music, so there was always something playing in the household. it’s safe to say music took over her life. she started to learn guitar, then later bass

but sadly her dad left them when she was still young. she wanted him to take her with him, so she could finally get out of that stupid town, but he left her with her mother and never looked back :/

indie and her mom didn’t get along too well. she basically planned indie’s entire life out, down to who she should marry. after her father left them, her mom wasn’t rly able to cope with it too well and she kinda turned to drinking, and the music that was always playing stopped :(

indie spent her middle and high school years taking care of her mom, who was too drunk to function at all times. she couldn’t keep a job, which, was fine at first because indie’s grandparents ( her mother’s parents ) were fairly well off, and they could live off of them

that was until her grandparent’s cut them off after finally noticing their daughter was an alcoholic. so, they were pretty much left with no source of income

indie started working as soon as she was old enough. she worked two jobs in high school, which didn’t leave her much time to focus on school. she never cared for school anyway, her focus was always music, but she didn’t even have much time for that anymore

her mother seemed to have a new boyfriend every week, men who always acted like they were here to say. all of them tried to control indie, but she resented every single one of them. she could see through the lies

she spent most of her time away from home, she didn’t even like sleeping there. it didn’t feel like home anymore, and it hadn’t for a long time

one day, one of her mother’s boyfriends actually stuck around. indie just kept waiting and waiting for the day he’d leave, but he never did. her mother remarried

after remarrying, her mother kinda got her life back on track again. she immediately went back to trying to control indie again. indie absolutely hated it, but she was happy to see her mother in a good place again, so she tried to fit the mold

indie barely graduated high school and never went to college. she continued working for the next few years, saving up money and working on music

she started dating the guy her mother chose for her. it was okay at first, but the spark was always missing. the longer she was with him though, she began to realize that he wanted to stay in that stupid little town forever, and the idea of spending the rest of her life there terrified her so much she decided to runaway

so, she packed all her things and ran away in the middle of the night. she drove through the night to find her father, but when she found him, she learned he had remarried and started a new family

deep down, she always knew he didn’t want her, otherwise he would’ve made an effort over the years. but she really had to see it to believe it

and that’s how she found her way to chicago. she never told her mother where she went, but she knew she was looking for her and so was her ex

her grandparent’s send her money every once in a while, and although they aren’t close, they understand why she ran away and want her to have the chance to start fresh

she stumbled across the forum one day and decided to join it, because she was starting to feel a little lost and it has helped her a lot

☆ . * 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 !

indie is extremely extroverted. she is a social butterfly and will befriend literally anyone. the tricky part is getting close to her, though. she tends to keep her emotions to herself. she presents a version of herself to the world, one who is always happy and alive because she thinks that’s the only version of her that people will like

she has such a curious soul !! all she wants to do is explore and experience new things, so she’s always down for an adventure. she loves a good party because she loves to be around people. she’s a social drinker and drug user ( except for weed, which she smokes a lot )

indie doesn’t have any idea about what love is, but she knows she wants it. she wants a great, interesting, devoted love, but is having trouble finding it. so she tends to have a lot of lovers, but they mostly end up being casual. she gets bored easily, so if it isn’t exciting at all times, she kinda dips akjsdhsdjhk it’s her fear of abandonment

she is obsessed with the 70′s, from the music to the aesthetics. stevie nicks is her inspiration. she loves music of all eras, though. she loves thrifting, and her style is heavily influenced by 70′s fashion

she can be pretty spontaneous, but also reckless. she wants everything in life to be an adventure, so it has gotten her into trouble in the past

hates authority figures, literally she has so much trouble with respecting authority now because she feels like she wasted her entire life doing that for people who didn’t respect her

has a hard time taking things seriously, except for music because that is her entire life

☆ . * 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 !

party buddies - they always go to parties together. maybe they don’t see each other outside of parties, maybe they met at a party and became close friends afterwards

drinking / smoking buddies - someone she can drink or smoke with. maybe they have a more casual friendship, but anytime they hang out, they share some interesting conversations

confidant - someone who confides in her or someone she confides in, or they confide in each other. they don’t necessarily have to be the closest friends ever, but they get along, trust each other, and maybe they talk more in private

frenemies - they’re friends, but maybe they’re always trying to one up each other. they might gossip behind each other’s backs. sometimes they get along perfectly well, but maybe sometimes they get into stupid fights

protective friends - friends who feel extremely protective over one another. indie will literally fight anyone who hurts them

sibling-like friendship - indie is an only child, so i would love for her to have someone she sees like a sibling. they’re there for each other, look out for one another and always have each other’s backs

dynamic duo / best friend - ride or dies. platonic soulmates !! this person is probably the closest friend she has and actually knows her well ! a power duo

partner in crime - someone who always goes along with her antics. someone who she bounces off of and they do dumb / fun shit together !!! her adventure buddy

online friends - her favorite person on the forum. she is always interacting with them and is literally always the first to comment on their posts or something. maybe they confide in each other

bandmates - if your muse sings, plays guitar, bass, drums or keyboard, they can be in a band !!! indie plays guitar, bass, and also sings so she can do whichever of these is needed !! she also likes to compose music, but with bandmates they will collaborate and make stuff together of course

groupie love - i didn’t know what to call this plot so pls ignore the name, i went for a lana del rey song title aksdhsdjkh but basically maybe ur muse was there at one of the little gigs she played and they became acquainted after that !!! this can be romantic or platonic, we can plot it however. but maybe they keep going to her shows and she’s always happy to see them

flirtationship - they flirt constantly, but nothing serious has come out of their flirting. maybe they have good chemistry, but haven’t really tried to explore it further

ex-fling - maybe they ended things more recently, or maybe they ended things a few months or a year ago. they could have ended on good or bad terms. maybe someone or both of them still have feelings, or maybe they’re just friends or don’t talk now

current fling / friends w benefits - someone she is currently seeing. could be no strings attached, or there could b some feelings there. maybe they don’t want to make it anything serious, or maybe they’re ready to take it to the next level. maybe one person is ready to go further, and the other isn’t

requited / unrequited crush - maybe she has a crush on ur muse, whether it’s a deep crush or a more surface level crush. OR ur muse could have a crush on her and maybe she’s oblivious to it !!! maybe our muses have crushes on each other !!! maybe it isn’t super serious, or maybe it is

will they, won’t they - there’s feelings between them, but they haven’t made the plunge to pursue whatever they have. longing, yearning, lingering glances

take care - someone who looks after her when she parties a little too hard !!! someone she trusts who keeps her out of trouble when she’s under the influence and feeling too reckless for her own good

enemies w/ benefits - there was always underlying tension between them, even though they couldn’t really stand each other. maybe they hooked up at a party and now, despite their personal feelings towards each other, they still continue to hook up

cyber sex - once again, i didnt kno what to title this so i went for a doja cat song AJKSDSJKH but basically someone on the forum she has a crush on. i think it’s funny because she has noooo idea who they are irl but maybe they connect super well online

ex-friends - someone she used to consider a best / close friend, but they had a falling out for whatever reason n maybe they strongly dislike each other now. maybe they want to re-kindle their friendship but don’t know how

dealer - someone she buys drugs from, they could be friends or it’s strictly business

bad influence - someone indie is a bad influence on. she maybe influences them to party, drink or do drugs, or do stupid reckless things with her

good influence - someone that is a good influence on her and gets her to keep her act together. she has trouble caring about anything that isn’t music related, so this person can keep her on track

roommates - one to two people that she lives with !!! they can get along, or maybe they don’t vibe super well. but if they do get along they can do cute stuff like bake and watch movies together

coworkers - indie is a bartender, so she can work at the bar or restaurant that your muse works at

meet me at the bar - someone who frequents her job a lot. maybe they’re her favorite customer and she loves whenever they come. we can plot this out however !!!

congratulations !!! you have finally reached the end of my unnecessarily long intro aksdjhsdjhk i would like to thank u for reading and apologize for all the rambling i did <3 anyway i would luv to plot, so i’ll send message u asap if u like this post !!! we can definitely plot over im’s, but i am partial to discord if u wanna add me there: missing blackpink hours#5522

#hearts:intro #☆ . * 𝒈𝒐 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 ╱ ooc.#this kinda got long.....i'm so sorry i rly do not deserve rights #pls plot with me anyway <3

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ceealaina · 5 years

Text

Love’s Strange

Square: K3 - Carnivorous Plant Rating: T Link: AO3 Warnings: None Pairings: Stuckony, background Carol/Rhodey Summary: Tony makes a new friend in the lab, and for some reason Bucky is the only one with enough sense to be concerned about it.

Bucky walked into the lab and couldn’t help grinning broadly. Tony was draped over a work desk, poking at something, hip canted out and grey pants molding perfectly to his ass.

“Well hell,” Bucky drawled, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms over his chest as he let himself just linger and stare. “Ain’t that a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hey honey.” Tony looked over his shoulder, shooting Bucky a genuine grin, but a second later his attention was pulled back to whatever he’d been looking at. “What’re you doing down here?” he added after a minute, tone distracted.

Bucky shrugged even though Tony couldn’t see him. “Got bored. Sam and Clint were talking about whether a radish is also a rutabaga. Too much stupid for me to handle, so I thought I’d come down here... Pester my favourite engineer... Maybe see if he wanted to fool around a little...?”

That got him a soft huff of pleased laughter, but Tony didn’t look up again and, curiosity winning out, Bucky gave up his A+ view to move over to him.

“What’ve you got, doll?”

Tony glanced over when Bucky leaned into his space, face pulled into an adorably puzzled frown. “A plant.”

Bucky couldn’t resist giving him a quick kiss before Tony’s words caught up to him. “A... plant?” he repeated, because last he checked, Tony wasn’t the horticultural type. But sure enough, there was a funny little lime green thing sitting in a bright pink pot on the tabletop, about six inches high and covered in little spikey bell-shaped leaves, run through with electric blue veins. “Where did that come from?”

“No idea,” Tony answered. “It was here when I came down. I thought maybe Steve brought it for me? Steve seems like the type to give people plants, right?” He reached out, running his index finger delicately over one of the leaves. “Ooh, it’s soft.” He gave Bucky another smile. “It’s kinda cute, right?”

“Uh... cute,” Bucky repeated. “Right. Tony, what the hell is this? I’ve never seen a plant looking anything like that before.”

“Oh, really? I mean, it didn’t look familiar to me, but then, it’s not like I’m a botanist.” He managed to say the word with so much disdain that Bucky couldn’t help snorting a little. “I just assumed it was some specialty fancy plant. You know, like orchids.”

Bucky blinked, watching as Tony continued stroking the leaves carefully, and what the hell, he could have sworn the plant shivered. “That definitely ain’t an orchid.”

“Well, I know that,” Tony replied, before staring off into the middle distance for a minute. “Wait, what do orchids look like?” he asked, before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. I like it.”

Bucky was still watching the plant suspiciously. He was almost positive that he could see it actually leaning into Tony’s touch against its leaves, and he was definitely positive that plants weren’t supposed to do that. “Tony, baby... Don’t you think that we should maybe... Find out where it came from?”

Tony lifted his head, giving Bucky a dry look. “What? You think it’s secretly a trap sent here to- ow!” Tony’s eyes went wide and slowly turned his head to look back down at the plant. “It bit me!” He lifted his hand up, the entire plant coming with him, one of the bell leaves now closed around the tip of his index finger. He gave his hand a little shake, wincing when the grip tightened. “Oww!”

“Shit!” Bucky moved to grab the thing, ready to rip the leaf off and smash the plant against the wall, but Tony smacked him away with his other hand.

“Careful! You’re gonna hurt him!” Tony turned back to the plant. “Hey, Einstein, I’m not your food. Let go of me.” He was practically cooing at it, using his free hand to tug carefully until the plant let him go and he could set it back on the table. “See?” He turned to Bucky, all smug. “He was just hungry, weren’t you pretty thing?” He gave the plant another little pat, and this time Bucky definitely saw it flutter at the attention. “Do you think he eats blueberries?”

“Tony!” Bucky stared at him incredulously. “It just tried to eat you!”

“Because he was hungry,” Tony insisted. “Must be a Venus Fly Trap.”

Bucky groaned. “That is not a Venus Fly Trap. Tony, honey, we gotta find out what this is before it goes all Little Shop of Horrors, and does eat you.”

***

“Alien,” Bruce confirmed twenty minutes later. Bucky had gone to get him when Tony refused to do any testing in case he hurt his precious new friend. They’d come back to find him feeding it peanuts. “The chemical composition in the soil isn’t even something that exists on this planet.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing at his temples as he felt a headache coming on. “Outstanding,” he muttered dryly.

“I know, right?” Tony asked, bending over the table to get his face up close to the plant with his usual complete lack of regard for personal safety. “Hey, you funky little alien. Did you come all this way to hang out with me?”

“Tony.” Bucky gave his boyfriend a look. “You cannot keep the carnivorous space plant.”

“Carnivorous?” Bruce looked up from the readouts he had been peering at, eyebrows raising.

“It tried to eat Tony earlier.”

“He was hungry,” Tony insisted again. “We just have to figure out what he eats and it’ll be fine.”

“He eats people, Tony.”

Tony just shrugged. “He liked the peanuts I gave him.”

Tony refused to hear a word against his plant, or to stop feeding it peanuts, so Bucky did what any sane person would do in this situation.

He went to get Steve.

"Stevie," he complained, walking into the living room and finding Steve parked in front of a window, sketching the skyline. "Please come and collect your ridiculous boyfriend."

"My boyfriend?" Steve repeated without looking up from his drawing. "Uh-uh, it's Tuesday. Pretty sure he's your boyfriend on Tuesdays," he told him, snickering when Bucky tossed a throw pillow at him.

"Fine. Come and collect our boyfriend. He's not listening to me."

"What's he doing now?"

“Hanging out with aliens.”

Steve did look up then, a slightly startled look crossing his features. “I’m sorry, he’s what now?”

“Just come on.”

Bucky explained the situation on the way down to the lab, where they found that Bruce and Tony had progressed from peanuts to feeding the plant raw ground beef. Clint was standing in the corner, a bandaid wrapped around his finger.

“Uhh,” Steve said eloquently.

Tony looked up at the sound of his voice. “Steve!” he cried happily. “Come and meet our new child!”

Bucky choked at that but Tony ignored him, grabbing Steve by the arm and hauling him over to the table. “Steve, this is Einstein. Einstein, this is your other other dad, Steve.”

“Um, hi Einstein,” Steve said, sounding a little perplexed. “Where did he come from?”

“No idea,” Tony admitted. “But he was hungry,” he added, getting a grumble from Clint. “Look!” He grabbed another spoonful of the ground beef, and Bucky waited expectantly for Steve to tell him that they needed to kill it with fire immediately. But instead, to his horror, he watched Steve move closer, bending over the table to peer at Einstein the plant speculatively.

“Aww,” he cooed, watching him - it - gobble down a mouthful. “He’s kinda cute.”

“Right?” Tony looked at him, pleased. “Here, look.” He grabbed Steve’s hand, touching his fingers gently against the plant’s leaves. The plant shivered again, leaning into the touch. “See? He likes it!”

“Oh, sure,” Clint grumbled from the corner pouting at the plant. “Captain America touches him and he’s everyone’s best friend. But I get near him, and the thing tries to attack me. That thing’s dangerous, Tony!”

“Thank you!” Bucky agreed, pointing at Clint. The two of them shared a look and Tony just glared at them both.

“You scared him, Barton. What were you expecting?” He stroked the leaves again, beaming down at the plant like some kind of proud parent. “See? He’s harmless.”

Steve had taken over feeding it, grinning as the plant gulped down mouthfuls of ground beef, like that wasn’t the most terrifying thing in existence. Bruce was scribbling observations on a tablet, grinning at them over top of his glasses from time to time. Bucky just threw up his arms, sensing that this was an argument he wasn’t going to win.

“What is wrong with you people?” he demanded, because he may have loved these idiots but it didn’t mean they weren’t still idiots.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Einstein was going anywhere. Tony and Steve were doting on their “funky little alien son.” Tony and Bruce were performing daily (non harmful) experiments, figuring out what he ate and what he didn’t eat, soil composition, trying to determine where he came from. Tony had introduced him to Dum E, U, and Friday, who all apparently adored their new baby brother. Steve would sit for hours, sketching them working, and close ups of the plant itself. There was even one that Tony had had framed and put up in their living room, to a lot of eye rolling from Bucky. Nat had rolled her eyes at Bucky’s protests, Thor had told him not to worry about it, Sam had laughed himself sick over Bucky being scared of a tiny little plant (although Bucky noticed he didn’t get within five feet of it himself) and after the fifth time Einstein had bitten him, Clint refused to go anywhere near the lab. So Bucky was left as the only voice of reason, glowering at everybody from the corner for getting too close to the thing.

Until the day that he and Steve went out on a run only to get an Avengers alert for an intruder in Tony’s lab. They’d torn back to the tower at super soldier speed, but it had still taken them a full ten minutes to get there and by that time, apparently, they needn’t have worried.

The lab was in complete disarray by then, machinery overturned and tossed around the room, all the tech blinking and on the fritz. Tony was leaning against the far wall, halfway between sitting and standing. He was cradling his arm and looking shell shocked and bruised and bleeding, but nothing seemed too serious. There was no sign of any bad guys.

“Tony?!” Steve rushed over to his side as Bucky did a more thorough sweep of the space. “Jesus, Tony, what happened?”

Tony waved him off as Steve helped him upright, wincing at the shift of his arm; it looked like his shoulder was dislocated. “Uh… Portal. Weird space bird things.” He was blinking a lot, still looking dazed. Worried he was concussed, Steve cupped his face in his hands, trying to get a look at his pupils, but Tony scrunched up his face and pulled away. “Stop,” he protested.

“Tony, baby…” Bucky moved to join them, gun in hand and a perplexed look on his face. “Where did they go?”

“Umm.” Tony was frowning again, that confused look back. “Einstein took care of it.”

“Einstein?” Steve and Bucky both spoke in unison, turning to face the plant. He was in the same place on the table, looking as if nothing had even happened.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “He just, uh…” He made an explosion motion with his hands. “He just… Ate them.”

“He ate them.” Steve repeated, staring at where Einstein sat a full seven inches tall.

Bucky blinked and threw his arms up in a shrug. “Alright, sure,” he said. “Weird space plant ate the bad guys? Sure. I guess he can stay.”

And if in the middle of the night Steve and Tony woke to find Bucky missing from bed, only to discover him in the lab, cooing over Einstein and telling him how smart and perfect and pretty he was? They kept that to themselves.

***

It was nearly three months later that Carol and Rhodey showed up, with a sonic boom and no warning as they usually did. Tony had been sprawled across the couch, tangled with Steve and Bucky and sleeping off a work binge, and he’d practically shoved them both to the ground in his haste to go greet them.

Rhodes was waiting, armour gone and arms held out expectantly, the two men hugging tightly as they reunited.

“So…?” Rhodey asked when they pulled apart, staring at Tony expectantly. Tony frowned at him.

“So what?”

Rhodey frowned, looking a little put out. “You didn’t get my present?”

“Present?” Tony lit up, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. “I love presents. Gimme.”

“I already gave it to you. Well, we did,” he added, grinning at Carol. “We couldn’t stay, but we dropped it off. Little thing about yay high.” He held up his hands. “Bright green? Likes leaf scratches, jazz music, and raw meat? Protective streak a mile wide?”

Tony blinked at him. “Einstein was from you?!”

Rhodey just rolled his eyes. “How many other Rhodey’s do you know?” he asked before catching Tony’s blank expression. “Did… Did you not get the note?”

(In retrospect, leaving the explanatory note beside the plant that ate literally anything probably hadn’t been Rhodey’s best move.)

@tonystarkbingo

#stuckony #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #winteriron #stony #fluff #fic #my fic #bruce banner #james rhodes #background carol/rhodey

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lesbenoits · 6 years

Text

merry late secret santa!

working title: that kaider fluff thing for secret santa

word count: 4008

author’s notes: oops this is late and not very good but i hope u enjoy this incredibly cheesy kaider fic with zero (0) plot! for reference, they’re both human, cinder still has a metal arm and leg due to an actual hovercraft accident, iko is human and is great, and cinder is 20 and kai is 22. happy holidays @kindasortaameyzing !!

The world was soft around the pair, the edges of their vision blurring. They could be asleep, were it not for Cinder’s fingers tracing designs on his bare chest, flowers and stars and swirls, tying the earth and the sky together with her fingertips. Her body was molded against his, the fine sheets draped across his waist and her body. She brushed her thumb across the freckle just below his collarbone, pressing against it for a moment. Kai’s hand moved against her shoulder, drawing her closer. Cinder presses up against him willingly, burying her face against him.

They stayed like that for a long time, his arm around her, their bodies pressed together like they had been made that way, two halves of a whole. Her legs tangled with his, his soul tangled with hers. She hummed against his shoulder, tapping her fingers gently.

“Kai,” she said finally, her voice soft, content, “what do you think it’d be like if we weren’t… us?”

A crease appeared between his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean… what if I wasn’t the lost Lunar princess, just a normal Earthen girl? And you weren’t the crown prince, just Kai. Where do you think we’d be?”

“Hmmm,” he contemplated. “I mean, I’ve thought about it before, I guess. Abstractly. I think we’d be us, just a little bit of a different us. You know?”

“Yeah.”

A pregnant moment passed, the faint rise and fall of their breathing the only noise to pass through the room.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just wondering.”

He hummed gently, considering. “It might have been easier, but I like this us.”

“Me too.”

“You should sleep, darling.”

“Yeah,” she echoed. “You too.”

“Mmmhmmm. Goodnight, love.”

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing her eyes, her head on his chest, letting the rise and fall of his breathing lull her to sleep.

*~*~*

Cinder wiped a greasy, gloved hand across her forehead, attempting to unstick a chunk of her hair from her face. Stars, it was hot.

“You know that doing that doesn’t actually make you any cleaner,” the girl propped up on the workbench behind Cinder’s counter pointed out. “The grease is just on your face now.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Cinder, but a smile curled across her lips despite herself. “I’m a mechanic, Iko. I’m supposed to get dirty.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iko waved her hand dismissively. “I’m just saying! What if, like, a celebrity walked in here?”

Cinder snorted. “Right. Who’s going to walk in, the prince?”

“You never know!”

“Uh-huh. Hey, hand me that wrench, will you?”

Iko passed the wrench to Cinder without complaint. “You are the best mechanic in New Beijing. Not the cleanest, but definitely the best.”

“Hey!” Cinder laughed indignantly, throwing an extra bolt at her friend, who ducked it, grinning unashamedly.

“Sunken to throwing things, have we?”

“Well, I’d have you know —”

Someone behind the pair cleared their throat, and they instantly quieted.

“Excuse me — so sorry to interrupt, but is this Linh Cinder’s?”

The voice belonged to a young man, maybe a year or two older than Cinder, with shiny hair and almost perfect features. His dark brown eyes were ringed by long, dark lashes and his hair stuck up a bit in the back, but he managed to make it look endearing. His lips were pink and pouty, wearing an apologetic smile. All this with a child balanced on his hip, the little girl smiling toothily, hair braided into two stubby pigtails.

If Cinder could have gotten any warmer, she would have. “Um, yes, this is she.”

“Oh, hi! Nice to meet you.” He extended his free hand.

“Um.” Cinder glanced down at her grease-stained gloves. She pulled one off gingerly, shaking his hand. His palm was warm and dry, his grip friendly.

“Hi!” The little girl exclaimed. “I’m four.”

Cinder gave her a little wave. “Hi. I’m twenty.”

“That’s so old!”

“Lei, be nice!”

Cinder laughed gently. “That’s okay. What can I do for you?”

“Well, when Lei was little, she had a nanny android? Kind of? Thing is, it was a really old model, and now it’s stopped working. I called the company, and they just said to replace it, which would usually make sense, but Nainsi has a bunch of recordings and pictures from when Lei was little, and, well, you know.” He leaned in closer. “Government secrets.” Cinder’s eyes widened, and he broke his serious facade, laughing. “I’m kidding. It’s pure sentimentality.”

“Usually I would recommend replacing the model if it’s that old, but in this case, I can see what I can do. I’d probably have to see the physical model to be able to do anything, though,” Cinder replied. “Can you bring it in?”

“Yeah! I’ll have to check my schedule, but I can probably bring her in in a few days,” he replied, beaming. “Thanks so much!”

Cinder offered him a small smile. “No problem. Just bring her in during my work hours, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great. I really appreciate it. Looking forward to seeing you again.” He shifted, lifting Lei higher on his hip. “Say goodbye, kiddo!”

“Bye!”

Cinder waved her fingers at the little girl and her toothy smile. “Bye.”

He waved again and left Cinder’s shop, Lei on his hip. She sank against the counter, smiling against her will.

“Oh my stars, Cinder!” Iko spoke suddenly, having been silent throughout their entire exchange.

“What?”

“He was so cute! Don’t you think so? And,” she added, “he was clearly into you.”

Cinder’s ears grew red. “What? No. I mean, like, objectively he wasn’t horrible, but he wasn’t — and anyway, he definitely wasn’t flirting with me. He has a kid; he’s probably taken or married or something. So.”

Iko raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Did you see a wedding ring?”

She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember whether or not there had been a wedding band on the warm hand she had shaken. “I don’t remember. Maybe not, but I’m not sure.”

“Well, I noticed, and he wasn’t. So he isn’t married. Plus, he’s pretty young. She might not even be his kid.” Iko cocked her head. “She was really adorable, though.”

Cinder hummed her agreement. “Yeah, she was.”

“Anyway, you can just ask when he comes back.”

“What? No! Iko, how could I possibly phrase that? It’d be so unprofessional.”

“Cinder. Since when has this place been professional. Like, ten minutes ago you hit a girl’s portscreen against the counter to see if that would fix it.”

Cinder huffed indignantly. “And it did!”

“Okay, true. But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Cinder blew a piece of hair out of her face. “I’m still not asking him, though.”

“I can do it for you. ‘Oh, tall, dark, and beautiful stranger! Would you happen to be taken? Because you see, my friend here with the grease stain on her forehead is totally into you and would like to take you home and help you get some of that parental stress ou-ouut!’” The pitch of Iko’s voice rose several octaves as she ducked the screw Cinder threw at her.”

“You are not saying that. And just because I think he’s attractive doesn’t mean I want to jump into his bed,” Cinder said.

“That could have hurt me!” Iko protested. “Oh, and you admit he’s attractive?”

Cinder spluttered, her ears and cheeks heating up.

*~*~*

Two days later, the tall, dark and — yes, Iko — beautiful stranger and his daughter were back, this time with a large, non-functioning android in tow. He set the heavy, pear-shaped body on the counter, wiping a slight sheen of sweat off of his forehead. Iko, who had insisted on sticking around for the days he might come back, sat on the workbench Cinder didn’t use.

“Hey,” he said, a bit out of breath. “I swear she’s heavier than she looks. I’m not that weak. But she’s here, as promised.”

“Thanks. Oh, wow, she is old,” Cinder replied, already examining the android on her counter. “Where did you find her?”

He laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I don’t know, actually. I think my sister got her second-hand somewhere a few years ago.”

“I haven’t seen this model in years,” Cinder commented, opening the control panel on the android’s back with a tiny screwdriver.

“Do you think you can fix her?”

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t make any promises, but if I run a few diagnostics, that’ll probably reveal the problem. With older models like this, it’s usually the issue of newer software being run on old tech.”

“Huh.” He furrowed his brows. “That’s weird. I don’t think she’s been used in about three years or so.”

“Hmm.” Cinder fiddled with a few wires in the control panel, poking at a shiny chip in the back. “Do you have a few minutes? I can take her to the back and run a few tests if you have a minute.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He leaned up against the counter. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” She heaved the android over her shoulder, pulling it into the back room to plug her into one of the machines back there.

“Hi,” Cinder heard Iko say, “I’m Iko, Cinder’s friend. And you are?”

Cinder held back the urge to roll her eyes. Iko.

“Oh, I’m Kai,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”

Kai. A good name, Iko would have said. Nice, a bit older, but in an attractive, old film way.

“Likewise. Your daughter isn’t with you today? She was adorable!”

“Oh, she’s not mine. Well, kind of. She’s my sister’s, technically, but she’s not really in the picture much anymore, and I was around, so, you know.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss; I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, how could you have? And she’s not dead; she’s just not really around. Life happens.” His voice got a little tighter, and Cinder’s chest constricted, hoping Iko would get the hint.

She apparently did, as she didn’t press. “Well, she’s adorable. Lei, was it?”

Kai laughed, a sound he made often, and one Cinder enjoyed. “Yeah. She’s a handful, sometimes, but she’s adorable.”

“Mhmm. She really is. Looks like you, too!”

“Thanks. We get that a lot, actually.”

Iko giggled. “I’m sure you do.”

Iko, what are you doing?

“Anyway,” Iko continued, speaking louder this time. “It’s just you and her, then?” Her voice was loud, and tone pointed, and Cinder flushed.

A slightly uncomfortable chuckle. “For now, yeah. It’s just her and me. I don’t mind, though,” he added on hastily. “She’s… she’s my world, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. She seems like she’s just the sweetest. Cinder, back in there, she actually --”

Shit. Cinder twisted the last two wires together, then burst through the curtain separating her workroom from the rest of the shop. “I’m back, sorry! Iko, thanks for entertaining my customer,” she said, elbowing her friend in the side.

“Yes, we were just getting to know each other a bit,” Kai said, running a hand through his adorably messy hair as he shifted his weight against the counter.

Cinder bit her lip. “That might be good because I’m not totally sure I can fix this in the next half hour or so. Some of the wirings are pretty ancient and rusty. It’s fixable, don’t worry,” she interjected as Kai’s expression fell, “but it might take me a few hours. Um, if you give me a number I can reach you at I can let you know when she’s ready?”

“That sounds great. Here,” Kai said, pulling out his portscreen, “this is the best number to reach me at.”

“Great,” Cinder echoed. Great? Isn’t that what he just said? Stars, she needed to get a grip. He was just an attractive customer. Who she just exchanged numbers with. For business purposes. It was strictly business, even if he had beautiful, dark eyes she could just about melt in, and continued to do that casual-yet-sexy lean against her counter, which was more than a little distracting. And he was single. Probably. Her beautiful, single customer. Who first met her when she had grease smeared across her forehead.

He opened his mouth a little, then shut it, a small smile spreading across his cheeks. What a smile it was. “Just, uh -- thanks so much. From both Lei and me. I’ll see you soon?”

“No problem. Yup. See you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Look forward to it. He’ll look forward to it.

*~*~*

“Cinder, this is the fourth time he’s come in with a broken portscreen that isn’t actually broken. He’s clearly into you,” Iko said through a mouthful of instant noodles.

“Or maybe he’s just really bad with technology.”

“Cinder.”

The pair congregated on Cinder’s couch for their weekly gossip-slash-binge-web-series-slash-eat-until-they-couldn’t-move session. Usually, they tried to cook actual food, but Cinder had a backlog of orders and repairs to do, not to mention attempting to find a college in New Beijing that offered a good engineering program and wasn’t, like, ridiculously expensive, and still allowed her time to keep regular hours at her shop. Her head started hurting just thinking about it. The point was, they were eating instant noodles cooked in Cinder’s microwave tonight.

She took a bite of her noodles, chewed, and swallowed. “See,” she pointed out, “even if I did like him, which I’m not saying I do, he’s my customer. Like, we message each other sometimes, but it’s always out work stuff. How do I break that barrier?”

Iko cocked her head to the side. “Are you serious? He’d be fucking overjoyed if you texted him to say hey. Or you could just ask him out. Skip the rest of the awkward flirting stuff. Seriously, this is like high school all over again. You like him; he likes you. That should be enough. You guys are adults, dammit!” She stabbed her noodles definitively. “Ask that boy out.”

Cinder mumbled protests into her noodles. “Yeah, yeah. Want to not talk about boys and watch trashy reality television instead?”

“Always.”

*~*~*

“Did your portscreen break again?”

“Um…. no?” Kai gave her a sheepish smile, holding out a small silver square. “It was my holoscreen projector remote this time. I can’t get it to work.”

Cinder raised an eyebrow. “Did you try changing the batteries?”

“Oh, oops! No, that must be it. Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

He didn’t move, just stood there, awkwardly running a hand through his hair.

“Um, so --” Kai began.

“No, wait --” Cinder interrupted.

“My portscreen hasn’t actually been broken --”

“I’ve wanted to say this for a while --”

“I just wanted to see you --”

“I really like you and, um --”

“Would you go out with me?” they finished together.

For a moment Cinder stared at him, and he stared back. The corner of Cinder’s mouth twitched up, and they burst out laughing, doubling over as peals of mirth washed over them. The moment one would begin to sober, they would look at one another and begin all over again.

*~*~*

The lanterns and twinkly lights strung up around the market gave off a pinkish glow, coating the night with an ethereal luminance. The couple flitted around the festival, stopping to admire handmade jewelry or, in Cinder’s case, a booth full of tech. “Look!” she’d exclaimed, holding up a tiny, robotic bee. “It’s so clever! All the little wires and look, this bit must have taken so much coding!” She trailed off as she noticed Kai staring at her, cheeks pink with excitement over the mechanical creature. “What?” she asked, covering half of her face self-consciously.

“You… you’re just… wow.” His eyes were wide and lips slightly parted as he stared at him and oh, stars, she wanted to kiss him.

She ducked her head in embarrassment and pulled him along to the next booth, leaving the model bee behind, although the urge lingered.

Cinder wasn’t totally sure when they had started holding hands -- it was sometime after the hot chocolate but before the juggling performance -- but there they sat, Cinder gingerly resting her head on Kai’s shoulder with his hand in hers, watching a musical trio perform an acoustic version of a popular song she couldn’t quite place. A few couples, mostly older people, slow danced on the makeshift dance floor in front of them (the makeshift dance floor being the dirt in front of the performers, illuminated by the lights strung above). His thumb moved gently over her hand, and she was content to stay like that forever.

Her date, apparently, was not. “C’mere,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go dance.”

“Oh -- no,” Cinder protested. “I’m a mechanic. I don’t know how to dance.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Nobody does. Just kinda sway with the music.”

“I -- oh, all right.” She allowed Kai to lead her to an unoccupied corner of the dance floor.

“First you put your hands around my neck like so, and I put my arms around your waist.” With this he placed his hand gently around her waist, pulling her a bit closer. “Then you move a bit closer,” he whispered, “and you dance.”

“Sway, you mean?”

“Mhmm. Who knows how to dance?”

“It’s overrated. This is… this is nice.”

“I agree.”

They stood like that, spinning slowly and gently swaying side to side, Cinder’s hands on his shoulder and his hands on her waist -- which were, by the way, gentle and soft and yet still burning into Cinder’s sides because it was him. They chatted quietly for a few songs, careful not to disturb the other couples -- oh, stars, was she thinking of them as a couple? -- before settling into comfortable silence. Once Cinder worked up the courage, she laid her head on his chest. Kai instantly pulled her closer, resting his chin on top of her head.

A new group of performers took to the stage in the dying twilight, this band playing softer, instrumental music. There were no words, but Cinder felt this music stirring something inside of her. Or maybe that was how close Kai was holding her, his hands on her waist and his lips were so close and his eyes and oh, stars, he was going to be the death of her.

“Cinder?” he breathed, his voice soft, soft below the music.

“Yes?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“So do it.”

Looking back, Cinder wasn’t totally sure who moved first, but she knew that she went on her tiptoes to reach him and his eyes closed and his hands moved from her waist to cup her face. The kiss was so tender, searing into her soul as his lips moved against hers with the music all around them. They broke apart, a little breathless, but smiling nonetheless. Kai smiled that shy smile again, the one from the first day they’d met, and Cinder rose up to kiss him again, this kiss shorter, more symbolic than anything.

Kai was the one to break the silence, but Cinder wasn’t entirely sure whether or not his mumbling was intentional or not.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Oh, it’s stupid.” He flushed. “I said that I’m glad you’re not an old man. Like, when someone recommended you as the best mechanic New Beijing, I imagined a grumpy old man with a bad back, not… you, you know? I’m sure glad you’re you.”

Cinder ducked her head before smiling up at him again.

“Me too. I’m glad too.”

*~*~*

“Kai. Kai. Are you okay?”

Kai glanced up from his portscreen for the fourteenth time, checking for any new messages. Dark half-moon circles hung under his eyes, betraying his exhaustion. He rested his head in his hands across the table from Cinder. “Yeah, I’m fine, just -- you know Lei’s mother? My sister?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Not personally, but you’ve mentioned her, yeah. Why?”

Kai sighed. “You know how she left Lei to go to Europe? She’s still there, apparently, and she got into a hover crash. There was a drunk driver, I think. They found my name in her portscreen, and they called me and she’s in the hospital. She’s fine, like, she’s going to make it and everything, but she had to have a blood transfusion, and she’s going to be there for awhile and just -- I don’t know.” He broke off, burying his face in his hands. “We don’t really speak, but she’s still my sister, you know? And I just -- I need to see her. To make sure she’s all right and has a place to stay and she’s not always the most responsible person, so I’m just worried.”

“Oh, Kai. When did you find out?”

“Just this morning. And I can’t go, because there’s no one I trust whose around to watch Lei for five days or so, so I’m stuck here. While my sister is almost comatose in the hospital in fucking Europe.”

Cinder grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. Her mind whirred, mentally going through her schedule and Lei’s and four days, she had four days, she had as many days as Kai needed. “I can watch Lei, if you want. I understand if you don’t want to leave her, but if she doesn’t mind hanging out in the shop with me… she’s more than welcome to stay with me. Or I can stay in your apartment, if she’d be more comfortable. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Kai’s eyes widened in gratitude. “You’d do that? Just for a few days? Are you sure? That would be amazing. Honestly. So amazing.”

“Yeah, of course,” Cinder said. “I like Lei, she’s great. And I spend enough time around her already; it’d be no trouble at all. Seriously.”

“Cinder, I cannot thank you enough. And Lei seriously adores you; she’d love spending a few days with you. Just -- thank you so much. Thank you.”

She squeezed his hands, smiling tenderly. “Of course. No problem. Go to your sister. I’ve got this.”

*~*~*

“Okay, I’m about to say something really cheesy,” Kai warned her.

Cinder propped herself up on her elbow to look at his face. “Go for it.”

“This is seriously like a fairytale. Like an old Hallmark movie or -- I don’t know. It just feels like a fairytale or something.”

She laughed, gently pushing against his side. “A fairytale, huh? Does that make you Prince Charming?”

“Excuse you; I’d make a great Prince Charming. I could totally pull off a horse and crown and… what do princes wear? I don’t know, but I could pull it off. Ride in and save the princess from aliens or something.”

“I am no damsel in distress.”

Kai laughed. “Definitely not. You’re, like, a badass princess, but people don’t know you’re a princess. A long lost princess posing as a mechanic, and a good mechanic too. Then I, the extremely handsome prince --” Cinder rolled her eyes in endearing exasperation at this “-- would come into your shop one day and totally fall in love with you at first sight. Then we’d have a long and complicated adventure story, and you would definitely save me from aliens at least once.”

“I like this reality, but that’s really sweet.” She pressed a kiss to his lips before burrowing under the blankets once again.

“I like this reality too. I wouldn’t want any other one.”

“Mmm. Me either.”

Cinder like this, liked pressing a kiss to his beloved and gently bitten lip, liked walking with Lei between them, holding their hands, liked coming home from class or work and being greeted with a kiss, liked going on double dates and being cheesy together, liked staying up late on weekends after Lei was in bed to binge their favorite web series and eat fast food, liked kissing his lips and collarbones and stomach and all of him, liked falling asleep pressed against him with Lei fast asleep in the other room.

She didn’t need daring rescues or royalty or aliens because him, Kai -- that was all she wanted. In any reality.

#kaider #mine.fic #linh cinder #kai #the lunar chronicles #tlc #fic

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ryodan · 7 years

Note

I am conflicted about sasusaku. I shipped it hardcore when I was younger then bore resentment toward him when he defected and caused my queen sm pain. Now, though, I adore and cherish Sasuke as a member of team7 and a character. In SS pairing there are things that he does that makes me iffy. I'm not at all blind to his affections to Sakura but like when he put her in a genjutsu of him stabbing her… he could've put her in lala land but instead stabbed her. Why though? Im so conflicted. Help?

See, to be honest with you this is the kind of ask that can always get me stumped and it’s the reason why I have never argued with a Sakura stan about SasuSaku. I always mention this as if it weren’t obvious enough; I am a Sasuke stan. Before even being a fan of the series and before being any type of shipper, first and foremost, I am always just a little shit here for Sasuke. Asking me questions like ‘did Sakura deserve better from Sasuke?’ ‘did he hurt my queen?’ won’t get you the greatest answer from a Sakura stan’s POV, and that is why ic you have not noticed most my posts/answered asks are from Sasuke’s POV or are just me defending her against asshats with double standards shitting on her for caring for him; or just defending her with no context to SS. This question gets me thinking and I am not sure my answer will satisfy you. However, Let me try to do this to the best of my ability.

‘Did Sakura deserve better?’

Short answer: yes, but it’s not really a sasusaku thing.

Did Sasuke leaving the village cause pain?

Yes, of course it did. When someone you care about to the point of feeling like you’ve become a family is suddenly out of your life it hurts like hell, both Naruto and Sakura can relate. Heck, even Kakashi who had become an almost father figure to them can.

However, put yourself in Sasuke’s shoes, he is a 12 year old child who has been manipulated into carrying the moral burden of his family’s massacre since the age 7. Seven is such a MALLEABLE age, his brain was literally molded like clay and he was taken advantage of since a very influential age. Since age seven sasuke viewed avenging his family to be the sole purpose he was allowed to live, he literally viewed himself to be someone not worthy of killing for five years of his life. The fact that he came so far during his time with T7 is a miracle in it’s own right, he was emotionally healing with them. It got to a point where even Orochimaru’s influence using the curse mark was weakening because he loved these 2 so much

And then this comes along

In the same scene, sasuke is stripped of both his pride and his sanity.

Having not only been shown his own parents and clan being murdered on repeat for twenty four hours but also beaten bloody to get reminded of his own weakness.

He trained all this time, thought himself getting physically and mentally stronger only to end up in this state

And he ended being even further manipulated into hatred

That day left him out of commission in the hospital for the time period naruto spent learning the rasengan and looking for tsunande; he was unconscious the entire time, and it was not even the physical attack that knocked him out, but rather, the mental ones.

Naruto took about four and a half weeks to learn the Rasengan

Despite all of this, he still wanted to slip out the village without hurting anyone’s feelings face to face. Sakura and Naruto both chased after him because they both loved him and did not think he was making the right decision by leaving. I’d like to highlight, sasuke himself said the characters misunderstood his motivations; his arc was never about just revenge, but also it’s been about justice. I truly feel for both Sakura and Naruto who were hurt by their loved one leaving; I cried during the confession, and God knows how much I cried during Sasuke and Naruto’s fight. But, it’s possible to feel for both of them while being objective, and in all honestly I find Sasuke perfectly justified in leaving and in fighting Naruto who instigated the fight himself.

Sakura got lucky with this

And I’d like to mention that Sasuke not once: interrupted her, belittled her feelings, called her stupid for loving him or anything of the sort. He respected her feelings and he had enough affection to give a thank you for it. What should he have said? ‘Yeah no, only interested in revenge atm’? lie and say something like ‘I hate you’?

He opted for letting her know she has been in his memories and that he has grateful for everything

(Mind you this is a mistranslation, he said uzai meaning annoying)

He even gave her answers for why he is leaving.

And it’s not like he was not just as affected by leaving and hurting the people he cares about either..he was also giving up his only hope of happiness

But he was literally manipulated into this since age SEVEN

Naruto is upset his friend whom is one of his first bonds is leaving to Orochimaru who clearly has ulterior motives, not understanding that sasuke already knows that

Sakura is upset the boy whom her crush for has grown into love is leaving and isolating himself for a ‘revenge’ she does not realize isn’t the main thing on the table for him

Sasuke is upset about his brother who’s killed his family being out there and about leaving the people he’s grown to care so much about. Sasuke left his fight with Naruto remembering his family while shaking with the pain of loosing everything, so it’s hard for me to place sakura above him in this situation.

See what I mean by sympathy is given to everyone but there is clearly someone with a stronger footing in the situation?

What about the pain Sasuke caused because of what he was doing outside the village?

here is what sasuke was not justified on doing in terms of Konoha

He is justified in hating Konoha, and getting angry over the political tyranny and the nationalist views it had that got his clan massacred and then threw the burden of the situation on his brother. He simply had a period of chronic insanity intensified by his curse of hatred; and that only grew with his pain and by overusing his mangekyo that comes at the price of insanity and vision.

His logic was a huge 180 from the Sasuke we we’re used to. he was no longer someone who believed in no killing under any circumstance; but now is willing to kill opponents after giving them a fair warning, since Konoha, whom he previously thought to be a good place can do it, and Itachi whom he previously believed to be evil but is now considered ‘perfect’ (god do i have my issues with itachi) had done it, it’s no longer an off the table option for him..He essentially had an existential crisis (paired with a panic attack that left him unconscious) that left his moral code completely shifted.

But you also have to understand his pain

even Kakashi who got this from him

acknowledged that while sasuke might be in the wrong, he was still a victim of his surrounding situation (god i love kakashi)

Speaking of murder eyes, Sakura still got lucky she got off with what she got off with while dealing with such an unstable person

Sasuke might be in the wrong; but expecting him not to retaliate when he knows she is out here, wearing her konoha head band and official cape, trying to kill him is pretty?????? She wanted to kill him, but he still gave her a chance (which ofc she would not take, she is not going to kill an innocent person) no murder eyes involved until it was clear to him what his intentions were. At this point, even sakura knew he was very far into the rabbit hole

he even softens a little when shes all like : ) ill betray konoha 4 u bb

Sasuke has never instigated a murder on sakura that she did not start herself, by ninja standards totally justifiable; they are 2 fighters meeting on field. This is not me saying Sakura is a bad person for attacking Sasuke, she too had full rights

*when sasuke attacked her team mates she wanted to fight him and bring him back home

* when sasuke could have had a war starting in his name, started attacking villages and ‘joined’ a terrorist organisation

Given all these circumstances they both had rights to fight each other

Sad, but true

What about the war arc?

There is good things

Misunderstood things, due to mistranslations. Sasuke asks her literally ‘if you heard what can you do?’ and she does not answer because she couldn’t do much in that situation. He was not scolded on being a bully like some anti-sasuke folk want it to be, he was scolded on not being a team player.

The bad scenes include the lava pit comment which naruto called him out on as a bitch ass liar (he deserved that one tbh)

And of course the genjutsu. See, I don’t try to justify it and if a sakura fan dislikes sasuke and sasusaku because of it I can’t tell them anything.

I can go in circles saying ‘oh but he cared! he was trying to cut off every bond to enter true darkness! he cared about her so much and the only way to ensure she writes him off forever is to do a violent type! naruto got murder!! she would have got hurt! he was preventing her getting physically hurt!’ and it’s all true but it does not answer ‘did sakura deserve that for just asking him not to kill the 5 kage and sit his ass down?’ because the answer to that is no; under no circumstance was he justified to do that, as commented on by kakashi.

But it’s important to remember at this point sakura is not trying to get in a romantic relationship with him, had that been the case it would have been THAT much more problematic, she was just trying to help.

You start asking fundamental questions if you ask ‘should she and naruto chase him to help?’ Sasuke asked them multiple times not to but at this point team 7 has become family. They could not just sit still and watch someone they cared about so much fuck up his own life and the life of others.

To Sasuke team 7 was hope and love after loss, to naruto they were the people who saved him from the darkness, to kakashi it’s the light at the end of the tunnel and to Sakura it’s where she grew up, where she faced life for what it is and arguably after ino were her first friends who helped her blossom into who she is. They really did not want to give up on that.

With all that in mind, I find it hard to believe these two could give up on sasuke.

He viewed them as family too, he too understands too well that the love you have for your family; the selfless, unconditional love that can cause a hell of suffering

Even a god believed there was hope.

When sasuke’s ideology stemmed from his beliefs that were about common interest above personal feelings he said this

and this

After everything, he had seen no reason for her to continue loving him; and it does not matter how he feels, since they have no common interest; he’s too busy trying to take over the world and she is thinking of a happy ending full of regained bonds

and he was right! Sasuke and Naruto officially ended the cycle of hatred begun by Kaguya and her grandchildren, and that’s when sasusaku got together.

had sasuke not been genuinely sorry I would have boarded off this ship, but he was.

a romantic relationship only officially happened after this, even after sasuke stayed in konoha for a year after the war and whatever happened between them happened, he still did not allow himself a chance to enjoy these things because he was working off his sins.

In fact, in Shinden (I own it) it’s revealed he is working on himself because he was afraid of having intimate relationships without going off the rails again, despite longing to see team 7 again. What I am trying to get to is: whatever punishment you want inflicted on sasuke, don’t worry he’s inflicting on himself/the world is inflicting it on him,,in fact I reckon this poor kid deserves a break, some tomato soup and a good tight hug.

What about romantic sasusaku?

SasuSaku happened under great, healthy conditions and it’s not like sasuke is incapable of making sakura happy. You can only imagine (sadly no bitch is animating it) how much happiness she felt travelling around with a happy, free of hate sasuke and I 1000% believe he did his best to make her happy and I reckon it worked since she seems chipper despite the circumstances in gaiden…must have been one really good trip to have it’s after effects lingering for 12 years LOL

He makes her happy and she loves him and loves seeing him happy, and she has that forever now so I don’t really think Sakura is sad to end up with Sasuke and really neither should you

What does sakura deserve?

- More fights as given to her male counterparts to show her amazing skills, we want to see the genjutsu skills she’s renowned for

- More medical ninja scenes, the Kankuro one was iconic and was literally one of the most epic moments in the SERIES; more of the stuff showing her intellect please

- Her personal arc to be expanded on just as her male counterparts

- To be involved in more important information just like her male counterparts, the entire sasuke fiasco could have been avoided and could have opened a door for some deep sasusaku moments

- Her emotional moments were the type that give you chills, more of those just as her male counterparts

- An animation studio that does her justice in animation

- An animation studio that uses fillers to expand on her, not one that pulls shit like this to make her look immature and unlikable

- A fanbase not full of ugly sexist boys who hate on her unnecessarily

- A fanbase not full of insecure self inserty girls who hate her for being in place of their self insert

- A better fucking plot for Gaiden

But, don’t take it out on sasuke or sasusaku man, don’t take it out on something you like. I love the judgmental couple that overcame everything.

Ultimately whether you believe she deserved better from Sasuke is completely up to how much you are willing to interpret both characters evenly. And ultimately, whether you like the dynamic of the ship or chose it’s not for you, is also completely up to you..it’s atypical and I understand why it might not be someone’s cup of tea. I only get annoyed when it’s unnecessary bashing of the relationship and the characters that sometimes extends to insulting real life people and their beliefs. Not cool.

Thanks for the ask and I hope this was not too sasuke centered hehe, also sorry for the late reply I have 78 asks in my box and it’s very hectic as I also have studying and socializing to keep up with.

Thank you again!

#sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #pro sasuke #pro sakura #pro sasusaku #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake #team 7 #naruto #anonymous

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