#but also she just isn’t ready to push Hawke that far. yet. (or give up Bethany as a buffer to discourage Hawke taking actions against her) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slasherhaven · 4 years

Note

How would Bo, Thomas, Michael, and Brahms react to seeing their fem s/o getting kissed and hit on by a male friend? Luv u and ur writing btw 🧡💛🤍

Thank you so much! ❤ They’re kinda long so I put them under the cut. Enjoy!

Thomas Hewitt:

You were a member of the Hewitt family not a captive so you were allowed to keep in touch with old friends, as long as they knew you were loyal to them. And you were.

But when your friend since childhood said that he wanted to visit, you were sure the family wouldn’t allow it. You brought it up away.

Hoyt had been dead against it but Luda May said she would consider it. She and Tommy didn’t want you to feel trapped in the house, like you couldn’t have a life at all, but they knew the risk.

Finally Luda May said your friend could visit but laid out some ground rules. He could stay for few days maximum and you had to make sure he didn’t see anything suspicious. During that time, the family would be on their best behaviour. You appreciated her for that.

And so your friend came to visit, greeting you with a hug and telling you how he missed you since you moved away.

You introduced him to the family. Warning him that Hoyt and Monty could be a little difficult but to just ignore them. Luda May was welcoming enough but you knew that she would be watching him like a hawk, she had to watch out for her family after all.

Then you introduced him to Thomas, the man you had been telling him about for so long. You had forewarned him about the mask, just telling him not to comment on it, and he politely shook his hand.

It all seemed to be going well.

The few days went by quickly, catching up with your old friend.

But the other members of the family weren’t so optimistic about the whole thing.

Thomas had noticed it almost instantly, the touches and smiles that your ‘friend’ gave you. But he tried to shake it off. He trusted you and loved you, he just wasn’t sure about this man. But then he convinced himself that it was his own insecurities messing with his mind.

But...other’s had noticed it as well.

Luda May noticed it instantly, she could be observant like that. Your friend seemed to be straight up flirting with you, even in front of the other family members (including Tommy). The looks your friend would give you and Tommy when you showed any sign of affection towards him.

She also noticed that you seemed completely oblivious to it.

The whole thing definitely bothers Thomas. He already thinks that you deserve better than him and what if your friend was that better thing? And what if you realised it?

He’s likely to become more distant towards you during those few days. Though he will be glaring at your friend whenever they’re in the same room.

He’s more likely to grow distant when Hoyt teases him about it, saying that you were going to run away with your friend. He didn’t want to believe it but if he was right?

It all comes to a climax on the day your friend is supposed to be leaving. You walk him to his car, giving him a hug goodbye and telling him to let you know he got home safe. The family watching from the house.

But before you can pull away, your friend holds you in place.

Before you can question him, he starts talking, asking you to go back with him. He tells you how he missed you and how you belong back ‘home’.

Of course you’re protesting, telling him that you’re staying here with the people you call family.

Speaking of the family, they’re all ready to act. Luda May ready to send Thomas out there. Even Hoyt is getting a little protective, you are family now after all.

And then, in a last attempt to convince you, your friend kisses you.

The front door is already opening and the family is coming out.

The whole thing saddens Thomas. All the flirting had been hard to watch but you never responded to it. Now, seeing another man kiss you, it was just breaking his heart. For a moment, he really thought that you might just leave him.

Yet he also found his fists clenching protectively, knowing that you hadn’t welcomed the kiss. If somebody made you comfortable, he’d kill them. Or at least he’d want too.

Luda May can’t help but smile when you push your friend away, chastising him for kissing you like that.

But you were still kind. Telling him that you didn’t have those feelings for him, that you were happy here, that you loved Thomas, and telling him that he should just leave.

Your friend went to argue with you but you insisted that it would be better if he just left.

Once your friend’s car disappeared out of sight, you headed back up to the house, where the family was waiting for you.

Luda May ushered the others away, letting you and Thomas talk alone.

Thomas has seen and heard everything. You saying that you were happy here and in love with him, unashamed of him and even proud of him, would warm his heart.

The sight of that man kissing you still hurt him. If you hadn’t pushed him away, Thomas might have just killed him for touching you against your will like that.

Thomas is going to need some love and affection, just some reassurance that you meant what you said. You are so happy and so in love with him. Just give him some hugs and kisses, making sure to remind him that you’re here with him because you want to be.

In away the whole thing was a little reaffirming to him. That you had been given a way out, another (and in his eyes, better) option, but you so quickly and confidently chose him.

God, he loved you and was so glad that you loved him too.

He’ll wrap his arms around you, holding you to his chest.

Your friend had told you that you should go home with him but you and Tommy both knew that this was your real home, the Hewitts’ were your family.

Just make sure to show him lots of affection, holding his hand, lots of hugs and kisses. Compliment him, make sure you tell him how much you love him. He’ll be feeling much better real soon.

Michael Myers:

Michael was bored and you weren’t home. You had gone out to meet a friend and he didn’t know when you would be back.

So what was he to do? It didn’t take him long to come to the rational conclusion that was to find you and follow you around time. It’s just something that he does when he’s bored, since he couldn’t just walk through town like a normal person. You knew about this hobby of his and didn’t mind so much.

It didn’t take much searching before he found you, walking beside your friend you had mentioned but name that Michael had forgotten.

The two of you are talking and laughing like friends do but Michael can’t really make out the conversation from how far away he is.

Then you seem to check the time and come to a stop, turning to tell your friend that you should be heading home.

Now your friend seems nervous, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his feet. Michael isn’t interested in him but is curious as to what he seems to want to tell you.

Then the man says something that makes you frown, your face softening sympathetically. You apologise and shake your head.

Then, in a fast but gentle gesture, this friend of yours is kissing you.

Michael has never felt this feeling before. He’s furious, his possessiveness skyrocketing...or is that jealousy? No, it can’t be.

Either way, his fists are clenching and he’s moving towards the two of you. He is going to kill a man right in the middle of the street, he knows he is and he isn’t even going to try to stop himself.

But then you push the man away, looking more annoyed than sympathetic now.

And Michael comes to a stop, a little...curious?

You chastise the man and now Michael is close enough to hear some of what you are saying.

You reiterate that you aren’t interested and that you are already with somebody.

Your friend apologises but you tell him to just go home.

As you turn to head home, you spot Michael’s looming figure hiding among the shadows. You had become extremely good and seeing him where others wouldn’t even notice him.

As usual, you can’t tell what he is thinking or what he is going to do.

You slowly start making your way home, checking over your shoulder to make sure that he is following you and not your friend.

You knew that he had seen everything and you worried that you would kill the poor man. You might be angry with him but that didn’t mean you wanted him dead.

Luckily, Michael follows you all the way home.

What really angers him is when you plead for him to spare your friends life.

Why? Why should he spare him when he would put you in that position even then you told him that you weren’t interested? He deserves what he gets, Y/n.

But you explain that it would complicate things, draw too much attention to you both. It’s not worth it. He won’t be a problem anymore, you promise.

Reluctantly Michael agrees. But if your friend pulls another stunt like that, he will kill him.

Affection and discussing feelings can be very difficult with Michael. But you’ll remind him that you’re only interested in him anyway, that you love him.

He’ll accept the affection you give him but he’s processing a lot of complicated emotions right now.

It may turn into possessiveness so what I’m trying to say is that you’re in for one hell of a night. A lot of gruff “mine”s coming from him. He’s got to prove a point, you know?

Brahms Heelshire:

Most of your socialisation outside of the manor was done on the phone with old friends.

One of your friends finally decided that he wanted to visit you, joking that you must be going crazy all alone in that huge house. Of course, you had told your friends about the job that brought you to the house. They just thought you were caring for the house while the owners were gone.

You had actually discouraged your friend from visiting but he insisted, pretty much leaving you with no choice.

So then you had to tell Brahms and he wasn’t impressed. One of the rules was ‘no guests’ so of course he wasn’t happy about it.

You had told him that it would be a week at most and that you could introduce him as your boyfriend.

With enough convincing, Brahms finally gave in but he wouldn’t really want to meet your friend. He doesn’t want anyone other than you knowing about him so he decides to head back into the walls for the week.

And he is watching everything.

As soon as your friend arrives and greets you with a hug, Brahms is already fuming. He’s selfish and wants you all to himself, even he knows that, but you’ve been making progress on these issues of his so he isn’t quite as impulsive. He will wait and see what happens...

Everything bothers him.

Your friend is really...friendly. Too friendly by Brahms’ standards. Why does he always have to be touching you.

Still, Brahms can’t help but smile when you tell your friend about your new boyfriend. He knows you can’t give him too much information but Brahms is glad that you’re talking about him.

But that doesn’t seem to be deterring your friend...

Still, every night, Brahms will join you in your bedroom, getting your full attention then.

He expresses that he doesn’t like your friend but that doesn’t surprise you at all. You promise him that he has nothing to worry about and that he’ll be gone before he knows it.

Then your friend started talking about how you should quit the job and move back home, that you were missed and you belonged back home.

Brahms was furious but relaxed a little when you protested. Saying that this was your home now, that you had a relationship here and were happy here.

And, as if in an attempt to convince you of his argument, your friend kissed you.

Brahms burned with anger. If you didn’t act quick enough, Brahms would have done something. And he probably would have hurt your friend for two reason.

One being: this man just came into his house and is trying to take you away.

The other being: you didn’t want him to kiss you and how dare he do something that you didn’t want? How dare he lay a finger on you?

Luckily, for your friend, you pushed him away and put some distance between you both.

You knew that Brahms must have seen that and that your friend was now in danger, so you told him to pack his bags and leave.

Of course your friend tried to argue and explain himself but you knew that you didn’t have the time for that.

You had to get him out of the house before Brahms did something.

Brahms watched even closer than usual, making sure that the man left without a fight.

You showed your friend to the front door, telling him that you just aren’t interested in him and that it was wrong of him to do that when you had already told him you were in a relationship.

You closed the front door and locked it, just in case he tried to come back and explain himself again.

When you turned back to begin your search for Brahms, you almost collided with his chest. He was already there, staring down at you silently.

The first thing you thought to do was tell him not to worry and to just let your friend go, he wouldn’t be bothering either of you anymore.

You promise him that you aren’t interested in your friend at all, that you’re still here with him because you really do love him.

Brahms is definitely mad at your friend but he’s also in need of some major love and attention. It had been almost a week of sharing your attention and then...that happened.

He’ll wrap his arms around you and you instantly return his embrace, letting him bury his masked face in the crook of your neck. For a moment there, he thought he was going to loose you.

But this doesn’t last long. He is still a cheeky little shit and will find an excuse to make reparations in the bedroom.

Either claiming that he has to show you why you chose him or, if he’s feeling more bratty, that you have to show him just how much you love him.

In the end, Brahms is going to sulk about it for a while but also feels smug about you choosing him so quickly.

If your friend shows up again, it’s going to be difficult to convince Brahms to spare his life for a second time.

Bo Sinclair:

You lived in Ambrose with the three brothers and you were happy there but you still kept in touch with people from your old life.

Then your childhood best friend said that he wanted to visit.

You knew that Bo would be against it, just because of protecting the town and his family. He couldn’t risk an outsider coming in like that.

But you finally managed to convince him. He told you that he was your responsibility, you had to make sure that he didn’t see anything suspicious. If new people showed up, a new bunch of victims, you had to get your friend out of town so they could work. But most importantly, if your friend did find out their secret, you had to be prepared for how the brothers would have to handle it.

So, your friend came to stay with you for a few days.

Your friend greeted you with a hug, saying it was good to see you.

You introduced him to Bo and he was polite. Bo knew how to put on that charming and polite persona.

Your friend never meets Vincent, he stays away from you all. He might meet Lester once or twice if he drops by for something. But mostly, it is just the three of you.

Bo knows when somebody is flirting and he can see it in your friend straight away. He knows that your friend has come here with the intention to convince you that he would be the better option for you.

And he just can’t let that fly.

When you’re talking to your friend, Bo will come up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him. Telling you that he’s going down to the garage and he’ll be back soon, giving you a kiss that is a little less than decent before pulling away and heading out.

It’s like Bo knows when your friend is about to walk into the room, and he always makes sure that when they step into the room, he has you in his arms or in a slightly compromising position. Just to drive the message home. You’re taken.

Bo really does like rubbing your relationship in your friend’s face when he realises that he has feelings for you.

He can deal with it when it’s just little things, just a bit of flirting that you don’t reciprocate. Bo can handle that and even play with it, like he is doing.

But if your friend gets a little too close, he doesn’t like that at all.

If your friend is handsy, there will be threats made when you aren’t in the room.

But all in all, the visit goes well.

That is, until your friend crosses the line way too much.

He thought Bo would be down at the garage, that the two of you would be alone for a while.

That’s when he started talking about how you shouldn’t be spending your life in such a little town in the middle of nowhere. You should go home with him, back to where you grew up. He’d start talking a little bad about Bo, and now you’re questioning his intentions of coming here.

You tell him that he’s wrong, that you’re happy here but appreciate his concern.

But he is persistent. So, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you, just as Bo walks into the room.

You push your friend away, too shocked to formulate a sentence or a question.

Bo saw what happened and he can see that you hadn’t expected the kiss. He’s seeing red but even he can see that you aren’t to blame here.

It doesn’t matter how long your friend had been planning on staying, it’s time for him to leave.

Bo orders him to get his things and leave, though he probably adds a threat to that.

You know that it’s for the best. If your friend doesn’t leave, he just might get himself killed.

Just before your friend leaves, you make sure to tell him that he had no right to act the way he did. You’re happy in Ambrose and you’re in love with Bo, he isn’t going to change that.

Bo is giving him a smug ass look from behind you.

You and Bo watch him leave the town, knowing that Lester will make sure he actually leaves and doesn’t end up stumbling upon anything that would put him in danger.

Once the car is out of sight, you and Bo head back into the house. Where Bo lets out the tension he was holding on to.

All he wanted to do when he saw that man kissing you was kill him but he held himself back to not upset you, even if he didn’t deserve it.

But now he’s ranting about the audacity of that man. How dare he think he can come into his home and try to steal you away from him? He’s lucky that he didn’t kill him.

Best thing to do is just grab him but the collar and pull him down into a passionate kiss. Reminding him that you were here with him, that you chose him, that you want him.

That pretty much does it. But he will pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, before carrying you back to the bedroom. Reminding you who your man is.

2K notes · View notes

tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

I hope you don’t mind this being exclusive for the Pro-Heroes!

(NSFW)

Papers? Check. Writing utensils? Check. Lube? Check.

You were primed and ready to begin this cocktastic journey. Completing this project will be a great benefit to Thirstology. You can’t believe that they put their trust in you to collect such valuable information from several willing participants. There’s no way you’re going to let the people at National Thirst Studies down.

With your lower body completely bare, you and your ambitious pussy set out to begin the cockwarming interviews.

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Pre-Notes: The Symbol of Peace. It’s still surreal to see him in such a fragile state. Strangely enough, I never once asked myself: Does All Might fuck? “Obviously he was too pure for fucking,” is what I would have said before I devoted my life to Thirst Studies. But I have learned over the years that there is no such thing as purity.

------

After he got over the initial shock of you wearing no pants or underwear, you were finally able to begin your study and ask him the main question.

You barely dodged the spray of blood spewing out of his mouth. “Am I into what?” He sputtered.

“Cockwarming, sir. The act of settling a penis in a nice cozy orifice. There’s no movement, only penetration. Surely you already at least knew the definition when you agreed to this?” You offered him a paper towel, which he accepted with a choked “thank you.”

“Midnight told me this would be about intimate relationships,” he anxiously explained while wiping the red off of his lips. “But I wasn’t expecting to hear something that graphic.”

Ah, so he was talked into this. “Well, with your permission, I can give you a personal demonstration.”

His answer was inaudible the first time; you had to ask him to speak up in order to hear his adorably high “yes.” He was a lot shyer than you imagined. Poor guy was shaking like he was on a verge of a heart attack when you took his cock out and boy, did he put the ‘long’ in ‘schlong.’ But your mission wasn’t to admire the dick’s appearance, it was to learn how their owners used them inside a hot snatch. You climbed onto him and lowered yourself and ooooh shit, both of you were moaning as his inches sank into you. You couldn’t take it all, but it was more than enough to get the job done.

“Mmnngh, yes, very long. Pushing almost painfully,” You said through clenched teeth, scribbling in your notepad as you sat semi-comfortably in his lap. “Can you give me your input, Toshinori? How is this feeling for you?”

“Blrraaaffggg.”

“Toshi?”

“…”

He laid limp in the interview chair as crimson liquid continued to flow from his mouth. Well, this is troublesome. You’ll have to wait for him to regain consciousness to hear his feedback.

------

Conclusion: This was his first time experiencing cockwarming. He described it as ‘intense, but not unpleasant’. Unfortunately, whenever I ask for more details, he would get too embarrassed to share anything. Frankly, this isn’t the most fruitful start to my series of interviews, but it was a great privilege to meet the amazing All Might.

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

Pre-Notes: I honestly don’t even know who the hell this is. An underground hero, apparently. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that he brought a cat with him. I told him that it needs to stay outside during the interview, but the difficult bastard was ready to turn around and leave unless I allowed the furball in. What a hassle. Do I even want to sit on this man?

------

You’re thankful that you did, in fact, sit on this man. His sleek ebony cat was relaxing in your lap while your pink kitty was stuffed with his cock. Despite his indifference to the situation, it was strangely intimate. Taking notes over a cute feline while his length twitched inside you was rather challenging.

“You seem like a rather exhausted fellow. Is it maybe the laid-back nature of the act that you find so alluring?” You asked.

“Mmhmm.” His arms circled around you to stroke his adorable pet.

“Being able to just wind down by giving your hard snake a wet hot crib to rest in?”

“Mmmmm.”

“I would appreciate a more elaborate answer.”

“Mmmmm...”

You shifted just enough to turn your head and see Aizawa’s head lolled back, his breaths getting heavier after each exhale. You can feel him quickly going soft inside you.

Ugh...

------

Conclusion: Given that he fell asleep in the middle of the demonstration, it’s safe to say that he finds the act very relaxing. I can only make guesses because the moment he woke up, he hurried me off his lap, picked up his cat and headed out. I did my best to chase him and ask if I could at least hear his final thoughts, but that bastard leaps on cars and buildings as skillfully as Edgeshot.

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

Pre-Notes: I’m not sure what to expect from the Voice Hero. His radio show has hosted some surprisingly insightful interviews. Unlike the last two, he will hopefully have some truly constructive answers to give.

------

“Not gonna lie, I always wanted to try this!”

Both of you were red in the face as you sat on his throbbing cock. Despite the blush and slight shake in his voice, he was as cheerful as ever. “Sometimes I just wonder, it would be pretty cool to just have a hottie warmin’ me up during my show, ya dig? No sex, though. I know I’m not quiet enough to get away with that on the air!” He laughed loudly right into your ear.

Well that kinda hurt, but it’s nice to finally have a fully cooperative interviewee. You were actually able to ask all of your planned questions for once, and Hizashi gave a satisfying answer to each one.

Unfortunately, it just couldn’t go perfectly, and his phone ended up ringing near the end of the interview.

“Hold on, listener. I gotta take this.”

Did he really? You wished he would wait until you were done.

You felt him lean back as you remained on his lap. “Shouta, buddy! What’s goin’ on?”

Shouta? Does he mean...?

“Sorry about that! I’m not home yet, I’m doin’ a...special interview, with a hard-working thirstologist.” You heard the voice on the other end respond, and Hizashi made a noise of confusion. “Eh? What do you mean ‘you too?’”

Oh dear, he does. They actually know each other.

The conversation quickly transformed into an argument, a loud one. The two heroes apparently have some...tension between them.

“Oh, so I throw hints at you for years and you act as innocent as your cats, but you’ll sit down and let a girl hop on your dick during an interview?!”

You had to lift yourself off of his softening member and take shelter from his booming voice. He was tucking himself back into his pants with one hand as he marched out of the room, but his hurt and anger was still loud and clear. “Don’t give me that bull. I bet if I hit you with twenty one questions about cockwarming, you’d just pretend you’re asleep! Oh, you actually did fall asleep? Huh.”

You awkwardly collected your notes as the two gentlemen were seemingly making up.

“Damn right I’ve always felt this way. Oh man, you better get ready tonight because I’ve got over ten years of pent up feelings, and you’re gonna take it all.”

------

Conclusion: It feels good to have a full interview. In summary, Hizashi is intrigued by the combination of closeness and casualness of it all. His interest in cockwarming during his jobs also indicate a possible thrill out of doing it in public. In addition, I’d like to announce with some pride that I may have assisted in taking two friends to the next level of their relationship.

Hawks

Pre-Notes: I’m eager to hear what the handsome winged hero has to say. I wouldn’t mind if we just stare at each other throughout the entire interview. My lust for him is unbearably strong and I’m not sure why. It’s probably just the horny writer’s obvious bias towards this bird. She could use another hobby.

------

Hawks laughed once you gave him the question that officially begins the interview. “Gotta admit, I’ve actually never tried it.”

That’s a surprise that you quickly jot down in your notes. “I see. Is it something you’re interested in trying? I can give you a demonstration right here.”

“Oh? I’d love one.”

You try not to look too excited as you leave your seat and move to undo his pants, but Hawks raises a hand.

“But I want you to do it on your knees.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “My knees? How do I-”

“With your mouth.”

Oh my.

You granted his request and kneeled down to take his half-hard cock into your mouth.

“Ahhh, that’s nice.” He sighed loudly, spreading his legs more as he stared down at you.

You detached your mouth from him to speak. “Can you tell me what it is that you-mmffrrf.”

A hand pushed you back down onto his man meat. “No no no, just...stay right there. I’ll do the talking in a minute.”

You sat there with his cock growing in the heat of your mouth. Hawks’s eyes were closed, a small content smile on his face. Every time you lifted your head just an inch, the hand on your head pressed you back down. Just when this interview was starting to feel more like a hookup, he finally began to talk.

“Oh yeah, I’ve fantasized stuff like this. You got a shitty boss? I do, don’t tell them I said that, though. They’re always finding something to get on my ass about. Working me like a dog everyday, expecting me to pull off these insane missions flawlessly.”

All you could do was look up and listen to his rant. He must have loved the sight of you, going by the strong twitch of his length in your mouth.

“They just keep asking more and more from me. ‘Do this faster next time, Hawks!’ or ‘I know you’ve never done something like this before, but don’t fail us, Hawks!’ Sometimes I just wanna shove something in their mouths...like my dick. Can you relate?”

You shook your head as well as you could in your current position.

He shrugged. “Oh well. As far as I know, I’ll always be the one getting fucked by them. But something like this...” He pat your head. “Ah yeah, it would be so nice to see them like this...”

------

Conclusion: Hawks was sadly short on time and had to leave before I could even get into the questions. Going by the very personal feelings and frustrations he shared, Hawks enjoys the dominance displayed from cockwarming, and prefers it be done orally. I will respect his wishes and not reveal any of the opinions that he shared about the establishment he works for and its executives.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fat Gum

Pre-Notes: It’s best that I continue to be honest: I’m anxious. Fat Gum is one of the biggest heroes around, and I just know that there is a deadly pillar of pussy destruction in those pants. I know that I should be more concerned with the questions, but it just won’t leave my mind.

------

“So, what experience do you have with this, Toyomitsu?”

The large man chuckled. He was currently in his skinny form, which you’re pretty thankful for since his fat form would have been beyond awkward to straddle. That would be like trying to hump one of those giant inflatable characters at parades. “A pretty lady I knew was really into it! I tried it for her sake, but I’ll say this with no ego, my sausage ain’t something to be taken lightly! Still, she was determined, and I was really digging just how strong her will was to take me.”

‘She sounds like a very brave soul,‘ you thought as your pen glided across your paper.

“I couldn’t believe it when she managed to get all of me inside. She couldn’t either, because she passed out! At first I just wanted to laugh it off,” he cackled as if to give an example, but his face quickly drooped into a somber expression. “But then I realized she wasn’t breathing...” His eyes shut in pain and sorrow. “And I couldn’t find a pulse...”

You nearly dropped your pen in horror. “My goodness, Toyomitsu. I’m so sor-”

“I’m just messin’ with ya! She’s fine!” His face immediately brightened up again, leaving you shocked and somewhat upset over the scare. “But seriously, if you want a seat on this big boy, I hope you’ve got plenty of lube on hand.”

“Don’t worry, I do. More than enough for the biggest flesh towers.”

But your doubts instantly returned when the bulging monster was freed from his pants. It’s huge. Toshinori may have been long, but this monster was unbelievable in both length and girth.

Your fear must have been evident on your face, because Toyomitsu asked, “You sure you wanna do this? Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You whipped out your bottle of lube and drenched your hands. “Thirstology is my passion. My life’s work. I am more than willing to put my life on the line for science.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “It’s...not that serious, but I really like your guts, missy.” He gave himself a few strokes. “So let me tear them up.”

Even with the coatings of lube inside your pussy and on his massive cock, this was still the most arduous task you have ever performed in your life. You didn’t know it was possible to be stretched this far. The light blonde was mesmerized by your trembles and scrunched expressions and as you tried to take more of him, his mouth slightly open when he noticed the swell in your lower abdomen.

“Oh, that is hot.”

------

Conclusion: I did it. I took the Fat Gun. Fat Gum himself takes a lot of pleasure in watching the strain of someone trying to take him in, and due to his partner often being much smaller than him, the tightness is very pleasurable to him. He was the only interviewee that actually came during the demonstration, so I suppose it’s safe to say that he is the biggest fan of cockwarming out of the five. He was very panicked when he came inside me, but I reassured him that I am on the pill. This is still a hell of a mess to clean up, however.

(I hope the information I have obtained will be useful for the institute. Thank you for giving me this opportunity)

#asks #smut #all might #shouta aizawa #hawks #present mic #fatgum #yagi toshinori #keigo takami #yamada hizashi #i got more invested in this as i went on #also how the hell do you write fatgum

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azucanela · 3 years

Text

chapter iv

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

warnings: mentions of blood. violence. injuries. cursing.

word count: 2k

[series masterlist] [wattpad] [ao3]

THIS HAS TO BE A DREAM. Y/N really doesn’t want to be dealing with this right now, this is literally the last thing she wants to be dealing with right now. She has half the mind to just disappear into the shadows using Telen’s quirk, seeing as she hadn’t returned it yet.

‘Returned’ probably isn’t the best way to put it, after all he can still use his quirk but… she’s never really had a different way to explain it. But, Y/N is capable of using his quirk until she’s returned it to him, meaning his pain is hers and so is his quirk for the time being. Not that it matters right now, because she’s currently staring down Bakugou, who looks just as shocked as she does.

“What are you doing here?” She finally asks, scowling.

In response, Bakugou is rolling his eyes, allowing the door to shut behind him. “You don’t own this café,” he grumbles out.

That was actually incorrect, Y/N had bought the set of buildings on this street to make sure that the café wouldn’t go out of business, she was sentimental in that manner Meaning she technically had authorization to kick him out, something Bakugou seems to catch onto as his eyes narrow at her, “of course you do.”

Y/N scoffs, looking away from him, “only legally. I have too much respect for Rosalyn to tell her what to do with her business.” She waves him off, “they’re getting something from the back, you’ll have to wait.” Y/N finds that she’s wishing she had a little bit less respect for Rosalyn, because maybe then she would have the guts to kick Bakugou out.

Bakugou says nothing, simply eyeing Y/N as he moves to grab a bag of chips from the stand, awkwardly standing by the cash register he waited for them to return. Of course, Y/N had a feeling they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon at this point. She wouldn’t be shocked if Lily had done something to make this happen, all to torture Y/N.

Although Lorelai might consider this the perfect time to apologize, Y/N finds it her personal hell. And she’s fairly sure Bakugou has the same sentiments as she begins to tap her foot rhythmically against the floor. The space is silent aside from that, and Y/N almost wishes a stranger would come in and end her misery.

A sudden pain courses through her, and Y/N’s brows furrow as her mouth gapes open slightly, hand coming to her stomach, though her thoughts are interrupted as Bakugou snaps, “could you quit tapping your damn foot?”

And Y/N does stop, but not because he asked, instead to say, “you can always leave.” There’s a sarcastic smile on her face as she glances at him, preparing to continue tapping her foot despite the throbbing that had appeared in her leg as well.

If Y/N had to guess, something had happened to Telen. But that wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary in hero work, and given how high profile Hawks’ agency was, they had a healer on call. She had no doubt that whatever injury he’d somehow sustained, he would be fine. And yet, Y/N can’t help the frown that washes over her, a certain fear and anxiety that definitely doesn’t belong to her suddenly drowning her senses.

Y/N is about to make a phone call when she hears Bakugou, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She’s about to make some sort of witty comment in response, only to see that he’s looking outside, where the presence of paparazzi has become apparent. Though they hadn’t started their mobs yet, any trained Pro Hero was well aware when they were being followed. Despite attempts to hide, Y/N could easily see that there were several people hidden throughout the area, trying to catch pictures of the famed Y/N L/N and Bakugou Katsuki together.

They were probably hoping the pair would start arguing, maybe even get into a physical fight knowing Bakugou. Though, if that did happen, Y/N was fairly sure Lorelai would have her head.

That and the fact that the shippers on Twitter were going to love this. But Y/N certainly wasn’t, scoffing as she came to a stand, “did they follow you here?” Her tone is accusatory, she knows that. But if Y/N is honest, she has no shame being upfront about her emotions with Bakugou, not anymore.

He glares at her once more in response, placing his order down more roughly than necessary, “obviously not. If anything it was you they followed here.”

Y/N comes to a stand, inhaling deeply as she reminds herself that she and Bakugou are currently the stars of the show that is the media. Everyone who's anyone, and anybody that’s a nobody wants to bear witness to their interactions if it means advancing their career. And Y/N has no intent of further damaging her reputation, or giving the media the easy way out.

Though she wouldn’t mind putting an additional dent in Bakugou’s already horrid reputation, there were bigger things than that. And at the end of the day, they were stuck together for the time being, until things died down that is.

So, Y/N finds herself heading over to the counter with her items in hand– discarding them behind the register to make sure that Lily would hold onto them for her— before looking to Bakugou, “we need to leave, now.”

Bakugou is frowning, eyes falling on his order, but he simply nods as he returns his gaze to Y/N, “and how do you suppose we do that?”

While she’s grateful he elected not to argue— probably because he’s well-aware of his own dwindling reputation and wants to salvage whatever he can, like the selfish bastard he is— Y/N finds herself narrowing her eyes at him, simply turning around and gesturing for him to follow her, “come with me.”

“What, we can’t just go out the front door?”

She’s not shocked by his proposition, though Y/N is also aware that Bakugou isn’t a fool. He may be impulsive at times, and extremely confrontational to a fault, but he was not an idiot. Even if he seemed to be just some annoying brute.

Y/N glances back at Bakugou, looking to him incredulously, “the moment we step outside, we will be bombarded with questions.” A bitter laugh escapes her, “and we both know how you’ll probably respond to that.”

“Oh so this is my fault?” He asks, taking a few steps closer.

Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N looks up to him, “we don’t have time for this.” Comes her response, “either you come with me, or I leave without you.”

With that, Y/N turns on her heel, hand shoved into her pocket as she pulls out a set of keys and begins to flip through them in search of the right one. She can feel Bakugou’s eyes on her as she finally finds the right key, the one that leads to the hallway behind the second staff door. Most people don't have access because if you take a wrong turn you’ll end up in the studio apartment of the owners. But, if you continue down the hallway, there’s an exit into the alleyway that Y/N intended to take.

Finally, she pushes the door open. Y/N doesn’t bother to look back as she steps inside the hallway, dimly lit, in fact some of the lights are even flickering. But she can see the bright red ‘EXIT’ sign not too far away.

Y/N doesn’t hear the door click shut, and with a sigh she turns back to see Bakugou had planted his foot in the door, kicking it open while his hands remained shoved into his pockets. Wordlessly, he stepped inside, and Y/N simply returned her gaze to the exit.

Until another spike of pain coursed through her. Her steps falter, though Y/N manages to catch herself on the wall, hand planted firmly there as she inhales deeply.

To be fair, the average person would’ve passed out from the pain by now, and Y/N didn’t have her hero suit to help cushion the blows of pain nor was she necessarily prepared for sudden pain— she wasn’t in battle. Though her pain tolerance is high enough that it's manageable.

Bakugou seems to notice, no— he definitely notices. Looking to her pensively as he pauses behind her, Y/N doesn’t want to meet his eyes as she huffs, pushing off the wall. “Let’s go.”

He says nothing, and Y/N is grateful as they continue down the hall.

It’s a short walk to the actual exit, but Y/N’s head is pounding so she doesn’t really notice anything out of the ordinary until Bakugou’s arm comes to stop her. She bumps into it, frowning as she looks up to him ready to speak in protest, to yell at him for touching her— though there's no skin to skin contact so she doesn’t really have much to worry about yet.

Until she realizes blood is coming from under the door. Evidently, she had a lot to worry about.

Y/N looks up to Bakugou, offering him a nod that he returns. A silent communication between the pair which brings Bakugou to press his separate hand against the door, brows drawing together before he rapidly pushes the door open and the pair steps out into the alley.

And there lies the body of Pro Hero Telen. Y/N recognizes him instantly, and it makes sense given how badly her body is throbbing with pain.

Her mouth gapes open, but Y/N is no fool as her back meets Bakugou’s, each of them surveying the area for the hero’s attacker.

But there’s no one to be found.

Y/N looks back to Bakugou, who simply nods, prompting Y/N to drop to her knees despite the blood that begins to seep through her clothes. Eyes falling on Telen as a hand comes to his chest. Nobody has ever died while Y/N was using their power, and if Y/N had to guess, Telen was still alive. There was no need for her to check for a pulse, simple as that.

“He’s alive. Call for backup.”

When Bakugou doesn’t reply, Y/N turns, and she can see the explosions sparking in his palms but there are no enemies nearby. But Y/N recognizes the look on his face, the frustration, the anger. But he’s not angry with anyone other than himself right now.

“Bakugou.” She repeats, an attempt to pull him out of his thoughts. They don’t have time to be distracted right now. While the attacker clearly isn’t around right now, there was a possibility he’d return. Not that Y/N was too worried, if they had any sense of bloodlust, she’d notice them.

He inhales sharply, simply nodding stiffly once more before pulling out his phone. But all Bakugou can think about is the fact that the Stain Copycat was here, and they’d targeted a member of Hawks’ Agency. The Number 2 Hero. Which meant whoever it was, they were getting bolder, and even worse, two of the best upcoming Pro Heroes were just next door and they hadn’t even noticed.

Even if the new Hero Killer had failed to finish the job, it didn’t matter. This would be a sign to all. A bad one. A message even. It felt as though this copycat was mocking him with every move.

The only thing that Y/N can think about, is how dark this alley is, how easy it should’ve been for Telen to escape from his attacker. Which can only mean one of two things, the perpetrator had done something to prevent Telen from escaping into the shadows. Or, it was someone he trusted enough that he hadn’t felt the need to. Not until it was too late, that is.

This was a problem. A big problem.

note: short but eventful chapter? and look at me go, updating on an actual schedule thats a first!

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the-final-sif · 4 years

Text

Okay, so I think I’ve got a solid timeline of events for villain!Katsuki

Katsuki leaves UA just before the provisional license exam, he’s at the point where he no longer things the hero system can be fixed without outside intervention. He’s done with how the media acts, he’s done with the blame being shifted to victims based on their quirks, and he’s done with the lies he’s been fed all his life.

Prior to this he started researching and planning what actual change would look like and require.

He meets up with Dabi, who’d only let the rest of the league know about the bet a few days prior. He was curious if Katsuki would keep his word or not. Dabi prods Katsuki gently, saying he knew the kid took honestly seriously but he’s still kinda surprised to see him go this far over a bet. Katsuki replies explaining it’s more than the bet. He talks about what he’s seen, and the failure of hero society to change. It’s more than enough to convince Dabi.

Dabi brings him to a secure location, then relays information to Shigaraki. Shigaraki is hesitant, he’s surprised Katsuki came back to them, but when Katsuki explains his side of things, and with Dabi vouching for him, Shigaraki decides to let him in. He can understand what it’s like to fall for hero society. He did for awhile too. Katsuki just needed more time on his own to realize that.

There’s an introduction period, the league is still figuring themselves out and most of them are hesitant to trust Katsuki. It’s about a week before he’s properly reintroduced to everyone and gets the sense that they’re not headed in any particular direction.

After that week, Katsuki decides “fuck that, I’m going to do shit, y'all are coming along” and since Shigaraki doesn’t really have anything better in mind, he decides to go along with Katsuki’s plans.

UA started panicking as soon as they realized Katsuki was gone, but nobody really knows what happened to him yet. Since he took all his stuff with him, all signs point to him having run away.

Izuku refuses to believe that, and most of the class holds out hope for awhile, but as no evidence turns up, more of them start to think it might be true and start discovering the amount of harassment and guilt he was facing.

There’s about a month and a half period in which Katsuki focuses on getting the league in shape. During this period, they do a forcible take over of the Shie Hassaikai.

Overhaul is killed, Eri goes under Katsuki’s care, and the league is established as a much more powerful force.

The Hero Commission is starting to get nervous, but not overly so. Not yet.

After this month and a half, Katsuki makes his first public appearance as a villain.

He’s in an updated version of his costume, most of it has stayed the same, but he’s added what looks like muzzle to the costume that covers his mouth. The muzzle actually functions as face shield/oxygen system so he can move at much faster speeds safely.

Katsuki’s villain debut is a full scale attack by the league on the Hero Commission directly. An event meant that the Hero Commission had gathered in a relatively accessible location, and the villains take advantage.

Importantly, Katsuki is enforcing a policy of limiting needless harm or deaths, because it ruins their message. The league reluctantly agrees, so they’re being a bit more careful than they were before. However, they’ve still got a hit list for this party.

The list consists of officials who they have confirmation deliberately manipulated polices or actions of heroes at the cost of people’s lives, all for some private gain. They do a lot of damage, and manage to kill 7 people on their list.

Katsuki’s first kill happens here. Previously, he’d managed to defeat Overhaul, but wasn’t quite able to kill him. He just wasn’t ready.

Shigaraki took care of it for him, and told him it was fine if he needed time to learn to kill. He was kind and understanding about it in a way that was genuinely weird to Katsuki. Not only because this was all about murder, but it was the first time in his life that he failed and an adult supported him rather than punishing him for his mistake.

At this event, one of the people he takes down tries to appeal to him by offering him a position as a hero to save themselves, and that pushes him over the line. He ends it quickly.

The league escape afterwards, and footage plus eyewitnesses confirm Katsuki was there, and he didn’t say a word to anyone he attacked.

UA, the Hero Commission, and the media collectively assume / sell the story of him having been brainwashed. It’s the only thing that doesn’t make them look horrible.

Aizawa has been weighed down by a lot of guilt during all of this. He should’ve done more, should’ve reached out, but he’d been waiting for Katsuki to come to him. He’s tried to find Katsuki, but Katsuki has purposefully avoided facing him in battle as Aizawa is one of the few people he doesn’t feel like he could hurt or allow one of the other villains to hurt.

The attacks start getting frequent over the course of another month, primarily targeting the people behind the scenes of the heroic’s system, with a lot of other targets of corruption along the way.

On his third attack, Katsuki has his first run in with Izuku, the first of any of his classmates to face him in battle.

Katsuki refuses to speak a word to him, despite the fact Izuku heard him giving directions to Toga, and the two clash.

Katsuki manages to pull ahead in their fight, but he’s distracted from their fight by someone caught in the crossfire. He diverts course to protect them. Izuku was so hyperfocused on Katsuki he didn’t notice the person. It throws him off enough that Katsuki is able to win their fight complete his goal.

After their clash, Izuku’s finally realized Katsuki isn’t brainwashed. Given what happened, he can only assume it really is Kacchan making all these choices, which leads him to reflect on why.

Between slowly uncovering what Katsuki was suffering through, and watching Katsuki’s actions and their very real impact, Izuku finds himself struggling with the idea of heroes as well. Most of Class 1-A and society as a whole really are.

Shouto & Izuku talk, and Izuku confirms that it really is Katsuki. Not a brainwashed version of him.

At the end of their conversation, Shouto assumes that because it’s really Katsuki, they’re gonna go join him. He defects, and is a bit surprised when Izuku doesn’t follow him right away.

Dabi almost has a heart attack over this, but he can’t really judge.

Shouto is accepted into the league after he and Katsuki talk and he apologizes for not having done anything. Katsuki doesn’t blame him for it, as he understands Shouto had no real sense of what was okay.

Eri gains a new older brother, and she could not be more delighted.

During this period, after the first attack, Hawks was sent in to infiltrate the league. Katsuki can smell the commission on him from a mile away, but tells Dabi to kind of let Hawks in anyways.

The league begins slowly working Hawks out of the Commissions control, before finally after about three months, Hawks realizes how shitty they are and defects properly.

A big part of this happens after Hawks finally comes to terms with the fact that Katsuki isn’t brainwashed, and after Hawks meets Eri and realizes how happy and safe she is with her new family vs how he felt at that age with the Commission.

By the end of that three months, a number of other class 1-A kids and a few kids from 1-B have dropped out of the hero course, or in some cases, UA entirely. The public at large has started to become more disconnected from the hero system as they start to see some of it’s major flaws. The Commission comes under more and more questioning and is seriously losing power.

During this same time, you’d expect to see an increase in crime, but you actually see the opposite.

Katsuki has been very careful and forged an alliance with the MLA such that they’ve been able to crack down on certain types of crime (domestic violence, quirk kidnappings, sexual assaults, etc) while also steadily funneling money into getting social services in theses areas.

This means that you start to see less crime, people feeling safer and more secure, even as the hero commission and system is crumbling.

All of this comes together after a year or two of solid in the form of the government submitting to a major reform driven by figure heads planted by the MLA, but only after the league manages to eliminate the last key figures standing in their way.

Since so many heroes have either fallen from grace, stepped back from the system, or been killed in certain cases, Izuku ended up as an unwilling symbol of peace due to his connection to Katsuki.

Izuku is tasked by what’s left of the heroics system with stopping Katsuki from killing the final major figure whose all that’s standing in the way of the reform.

Izuku, in the end, makes the active choice to step aside, giving Katsuki the key he was given to the room so Katsuki can get to the person to kill them.

Izuku finally decided that he’s had enough of this too, and he’s done defending a broken system based on ingrained ideals that don’t add up.

Aizawa is watching inside the room up in the rafters, he’s stayed a hero of sorts but still functions like he did before.

Inside the room, Aizawa had the chance to cancel Katsuki’s quirk and stop him from killing the person. Instead, he chose to close his eyes and let Katsuki go through with it.

Katsuki looks up to where Aizawa is once it’s done, and Aizawa realizes he knew he was there the entire time. He hops down out into the open and speaks plainly as he always did.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can really say. There’s so much he’s sorry for. For not speaking up. For letting Katsuki be put through so much. For letting him be driven to this.

Katsuki looks at him for a long, long moment, before he finally looks away and shrugs his shoulders. For the very first time in years, he speaks to a hero. To the only hero who ever tried for him, even if it wasn’t enough.

“S'okay. The problem was bigger than you every could’ve fixed.”

“I should’ve tried. I should’ve done more.”

Again, Katsuki needs a moment to consider that.

“Yeah. Probably.”

There’s silence for a few moments, and then Katsuki’s radio crackles to life. Dabi’s calling him back.

They share one more glance, and Katsuki turns on his heel and walks out.

Aizawa watches him go. There’s nothing else for him to do. His right to change this story ended when he failed to speak up all those years ago.

#villain katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou #shouta aizawa #izuku mydoria #todobaku #the league of villains #dabi #shouto todoroki #tomura shigaraki #sif speaks #bnha #mha #this is a repost #thank you to alex for saving the text for me!#hopefully tumblr won't eat this one too

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

lavender latte: ii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 1 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You and Hawks’s second meeting.

warnings: mutual pining, shy reader-ish, ooc hawks, the fun stuff, fluff ; )

|||||||||||||

You didn’t hear anything from Hawks for the next few days.

It was a fleeting disappointment, but you took his lack of contact as truth and reality. Some big shot, pro-hero wasn’t going to waste time texting a no-name, nobody barista, no matter how mutually flirty of an interaction was shared.

Prior to actually meeting Hawks, you had seen the tabloids that his name spilled over. Shady stories of midnight rendezvous with models and celebrities, sultry pictures of his own on magazines at grocery store checkouts were a lot of your knowledge of him. He was a very eligible and active bachelor, everyone knew it.

You reminded yourself that you didn’t mean shit to him, and moved on.

Until about a week from your first meeting, late into the evening, your phone buzzed.

You thought it was one of the team from the teashop, asking another question about a new blend you had made.

Your eyes widened at the text that you did see:

[unknown number]: hey angel ;) do you work tomorrow? it’s supposed to be a cold one and i’d love to try another one of your drinks

You stared at your phone screen for a moment, mouth going dry before typing out a reply.

[you]: is this hawks?

The next reply came only seconds later.

[unknown number]: the one and only ;))))

He... actually texted me?

Holy shit.

Another message came in.

[unknown number]: don’t tell me you go handing out your number to folks at work all the time :^( you’re gonna hurt my :^((( feelings :^((((

You deadpanned at Hawks’s texts.

You couldn’t believe the number two, pro hero texted like a normal twenty-some year old.

It was endearing, if not at the very least comforting.

[you]: nah, just you tailfeathers 😉

[you]: i work tomorrow morning, opening shift. 6 am. think you can handle it???

You giggled at your own texts, unable to hold back when you saw Hawks continuing to type. You quickly typed in a contact name.

[tailfeathers]: E

[tailfeathers]: Z

[tailfeathers]: i’ll be there bright and early ;)

Part of you, the rational, realistic part, doubted that. Sure, Hawks had texted you, but he wouldn’t actually show, right? He was a busy, busy man. He’d probably get sidetracked.

Don’t get your hopes up.

You tried to remain practical.

But, you also liked pushing your luck.

[you]: see u then!!

[you]: btw your contact name is ‘tailfeathers’

[you]: ;)

[tailfeathers]: what if i told you yours is ‘barista angel’

[you]: i’d ask if you saw my name on that conveniently small piece of paper i gave you

[tailfeathers]: i would say yes

[tailfeathers]: but idk angel seems like a more proper title for u

You felt your still and heat rush to your face.

He can’t be flirting with you over text. What the FUCK.

[tailfeathers]: only angels can make coffee as well as u 😇

“What a bastard,” You shook your head, sighing. Part of you was glad he made it more clear your identity was tied to coffee and not affections.

[you]: u flatter me

[tailfeathers]: i only speak the truth ;)

You bit your lip as you typed out the next reply, well aware that the evening sky had darkened and you needed an adequate amount of sleep to actually make it to that morning shift.

[you]: i’m about to knock out so i can actually be alive for my shift, but i’ll see you tomorrow bird boy

Hawks’s replied quickly as seemed to be a trend with him.

[tailfeathers]: bird boy!!!!!

[tailfeathers]: i’m moving up in the world

[tailfeathers]: see u then angel

As you got ready for bed, going about your mundane routine and preparing the coming day, you had no idea that Keigo was across the city, cradling his phone to his chest with a wobbling smile on his face, a foreign sensation filling his chest.

He was very excited to see you again, even if it took a few days to get that far.

|||||||||||||||||||

The next day was indeed, terribly cold. Despite bundling up in a thick, woolen coat and a knit scarf, you nearly froze on the way to work. Despite the chill, the rest of the morning crew made it in just a few minutes after you.

“I’ll be in back until there’s a rush, alright?” You called to the three openers, all silly college students from the local university. They were all sort of dense, but they were loveable.

“Okay!” One smiled as they flitted to the front counter and seating area.

The back of the teashop was a smaller commercial kitchen, all steel tables and cooking implements. Lots of tools to actually do your job. Though you were the maker of the tea blends for the shop, a lot of your work consisted of packaging and fulfilling orders as well as design work for the teashop’s online presence. Truthfully, you were more of a jack-of-all-trades type of worker, but nearly all of it confined you to the safety of the back kitchen. The lack of stimuli made it easier to work effectively, quirk activated or otherwise.

You tied your apron tight around your waist, adjusting a few of your buttons and smoothing yourself down. The back remained frigid in the mornings, and you could only be glad you were layered up for the day. You pulled out your company-issued tablet and began tapping away with the stylus as the shop prepped to open.

You were too absorbed in your work to hear the bell at the entrance, just minutes after unlocking the door.

Keigo? Elated. His last week of hero work had been all long hours and late nights. His wings had grown sparse with overuse, barely carrying him properly through the skies. When he saw that his office day at his agency was due to be particularly cold, he knew it was the perfect excuse to give you a visit.

You hadn’t been constantly on his mind. Rather, you perked up in his thoughts semi-reliably, but briefly a few times a day. Most affections were forgettable, he didn’t have time for anything other than whorish trysts with other heroes and those of higher society who knew how to keep their mouths (somewhat) shut.

Part of him, the part that the Commission’s ruthless training created, hated the way how you were sticking with him.

Another part of him, the kinder, softer, very repressed one, recognized his feelings and hid them safely. Vulnerable things required heavy protection.

When Keigo reached the teashop, early as dawn crept over the urbanscape, he pushed the door open and was greeted by the rolling smell of roasted coffee beans and black tea.

Only a few other patrons were there, eyes wide as the top ten hero gave them a trademark wave, waltzing to the counter with his signature swagger.

The workers (none of them being you) gawked at him, jaws half to the floor.

“Hawks?!” One of them exclaimed. “Oh my god, can I get an autograph?!”

(Keigo carried a few pens on him for occasions like this.)

The worker, a young thing with a shock of short blue hair, wrestled under the counter for a notebook. Another of the workers also attempted to wrangle a bit of receipt paper from the fussy machine, flashing him a nervous smile.

“Of course, autographs are a given,” He winked at the two of them, sauntering up to the counter. “On one condition, though. Could you tell me if (Y/N) is working?”

The morning shifts workers proceeded to gawk more.

You sat deep in concentration, thoroughly organizing yourself for the day with lists and plans. You were only startled from your work when one of the other baristas popped her head back, eyes wide.

“Uh, (Y/N), I know you’re busy, but Hawks is here for you?” She stammered, saying his name incredulously and pointing a shaking finger out at the counter.

You could hear his silky laugh just beyond the precipice.

Your mouth quirked up in surprise.

I didn’t expect him to actually come.

It was a pleasant surprise though, one that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You put down the tablet, making your way to the front of the shop.

Hawks leaned down on the front counter, signing various papers and items that the staff and patrons of the tea shop had given him. His smooth voice echoed beautifully around the shop, mixing with the din of the soft music that provided ambient sound.

Thoroughly absorbed in his fan interaction, you leaned against the door frame, watching him as he had yet to notice you.

(You tried to look nonchalant, but it was probably a bit of ogling.)

Hawks’s scarlet wings appeared sparse, but still twitched and fluffed every few moments. He was dressed in his hero uniform, visor pushed up into the feathery, front bits of his hair. With all of his typical regalia on, he seemed out of place in the slow din of the coffee shop. He seemed to shine so brightly, making himself a focal point without even trying.

Without the protection of his visor, Hawks’ honeyed eyes seemed brighter, luminous from the inside out. Even from your distance, you could watch their topazine shine dance in the soft lighting.

His gaze drifted to you and positively lit up.

(You didn’t think that was possible.)

Your stomach fluttered.

“Well, if it isn’t (Y/N)!” Hawks beamed you a smile that could’ve put the sun to shame. It made something deep in your chest thrum. “For a minute there, I thought you’d pulled my leg about working today.”

“Oh, never, ” You grinned, moving directly in front of him at the counter, your shocked coworkers parting for you. “I tend to work in the back if the rest of our lovely staff is present.

You gestured to your very starstruck coworkers who all gave various gawking looks before falling away, shyness obviously overtaking them.

It wasn’t like you weren’t feeling similarly, but your nervousness was better hidden. Facades were, in fact, a trained skill in maintaining and god, if you weren’t a master.

But, Keigo had his own mastery in spotting cracks in people’s veneers. And, easily, he saw your tension and nervousness. For anyone with less trained interpersonal skills, they wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But to Keigo? Your anxiety was as clear as the light you added to a room. A few of his feathers twitched, picking up on the rapid beating of your heart across from him.

“What can I get you?” You asked, speaking through any of your fears, cracking him a genuine smile.

Keigo returned it without thought, chest warming.

“Mmm... Surprise me. Something to help me get my day started.” Keigo loved the way your eyes lit up when he talked, a little bit of knowingness between the two of you sparking.

“Same specifications as before? Hot and sweet?” You asked, already grabbing a cup, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, batting his eyelashes at you in a way that you couldn’t not laugh. He rested his elbows on the counter and leaned over the top of it, regarding you with half-lidded eyes, “You remember my preferences? I feel honored.”

“You should,” You winked. If he was going to shamelessly flirt, you would right back.

Truthfully, your personal attention made Keigo swoon like a goddamn schoolgirl. He could feel sweat growing on his palms, making the leather of his gloves stick. Normally, the sensation would’ve ticked his more anxiety-ridden tendencies into overdrive, but he could hardly focus on them. He was too busy watching you flit around behind the counter.

“So,” You began, activating your quirk and beginning your process. “Why so few feathers? Get roughed up?”

Keigo chuckled, flexing what feathers he did have left for emphasis, “Basically. I have to give them a few days to regrow. A couple nasty days in a row means a couple days recovery.”

You hummed, turning to the espresso machine. Before pouring the shot, you gave him a little smile with the cutest quirk in your lips, “I’m sure you more than deserve the rest.”

Oh, that made his proverbial dick swell.

Someone, a very nice, stranger barista, angel, telling him he deserved something kind? And, there wasn’t an edge of dishonesty in you. If anything, there was an earnestness in your quirk-blackened eyes that made Keigo nearly scared of the amount of vulnerability you gave him so freely.

He wondered if you showed that to all of your patrons.

(You didn’t.)

You turned behind the counter, quirk activated and swirling. The familiar blending of your senses made your teeth ache and head burn with the overabundance of stimuli, but you worked through it. You reached through the external sensations to manifest your idea and feeling into a conceivable reality.

You dumped any number of syrups and shots into the cup, placing it (and a lid) on the counter in front of Hawks. Warm smells of cardamom and cinnamon tickled both of your noses as you nodded down, “Let that cool for a sec, then give it a taste. I need a comprehensive review.”

Hawks plucked off one of his gloves, taking the steaming cup in his hand, looking down at the foam. His gaze flickered around the two of you, noting that the few civilians and coworkers once surrounding him had left you two with a small bit of privacy.

“What’s the inspiration for this one?” Hawks gave you a downright sweet, knowing look.

“Take a sip and guess,” You nodded down to the cup again, idly going to wipe down the counters with a rag slung in your apron.

Hawks blew on steaming liquid, throwing back his head to take a decently sized sip. You had to tear your gaze from the bob of his throat.

Keep it in your pants.

While you were suppressing being horny for the number two hero, Keigo was suppressing being horny for a fucking beverage.

The flavor hit his tongue and throat and danced. It was warm, like the last one, spilling hearth-like heat into his chest and extremities. But, this drink tasted literally spiced, like it had some sort of pepper in it (according to Keigo’s untrained, pitiful palette). His wings ruffled, feathers rustling and twitching with the taste of the drink. Despite the heat flooding his body, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose as waves of subtle pleasure rolled through Keigo’s body.

He placed the cup back on the counter, staring you down with incredulity.

You, cutely cheeky as ever, just smiled and crossed your arms over your chest, “Are you a fan?”

“It’s... spicy. How. Why. Is this even coffee?” Hawks asked. Despite his questioning, he took another sip, shuddering at the comforting heat it gave him.

“There’s coffee in it, or, espresso,” You couldn’t help feeling a bit smitten with the way Hawks looked at you. Disbelief wasn’t an expression you saw many heroes wear, especially not one with a reputation like Hawks’s. Yet, there he was, in front of you, staring at his cup like you just served him battery acid and grass.

“If that’s the case, gimme the rundown, angel,” Hawks peeled off his other glove, setting the pair on the counter. He surprised you as he shrugged off his lined jacket, plopping down in a nearby stool.

You hadn’t ever really seen this much of Hawks, not in his hero uniform anyways. Plenty of him was available for viewing due to his various modeling ventures, but seeing him in the flesh was far better. The black shirt of his hero costume stretched over the lean, sculpted muscles of his arms. He certainly wasn’t built in the same way other top heroes were, but from what you could see (read: drool over), Hawks certainly wasn’t lacking—

“See something you like?” Hawks raised an eyebrow while taking another sip, devilish curl to his lips.

You really wished you had the bodily control to stop the red flush that grew on your face.

“SO —!” You laughed, diverting back to the drink at hand. “The drink.”

“Wonderful deflection,” Hawks set the cup down, still smirking. “So, the drink .”

Your fingers tapped at the countertop, living your blush down with a lack of eye contact.

He gets stared at all the time, chill out.

Dude probably likes it, (Y/N).

“The drink is a dirty chai, with some editions, of course.” You jerked your head back to the wall of tea blends, the familiar ebbing away from of your embarrassment. “We have a couple of different chai blends that I make in house. Several different chai concentrates too.”

“Forgive me, but a dirty chai?” Hawks teased.

“Wow, weak jab there, Hawks, ” You rolled your eyes. Hawks just continued to beam at you, swinging his legs behind the counter. “I gave you an oatmilk, ginger chai with three shots of espresso and a few other secret touches. I wanted to make it warm again for you.”

Keigo paused at your admission, (not-so) secretly reveling in your poorly contained embarrassment. Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but his job did carry some wonderful perks and he’d be damned to not enjoy them.

“It feels like a different kind of warm, compared to last time,” Keigo took another taste to confirm. The spiced liquid flooded his palette again, skin pleasantly prickling at the taste.

You hummed, refusing to fully make eye contact with Hawks.

Truthfully, you spent an embarrassing amount of time since the night prior thinking about potential sensations to emulate for Hawks. You were never sure of what type of vibe he would request, but having an arsenal of ideas made you feel more prepared to impress your new clientele.

“I made it feel like dawn,” You replied, nodding to out of the fully-windowed front of the tea shop. The district you were located in was lit up by the golds and pinks of the early morning, stretching and awakening with the new day. “I wanted it to feel like how morning sun feels on your bare skin. All like... tingly, you know? Like... seeing someone you haven't seen in a long time. ”

Keigo immediately noticed your bashfulness after you gave your description. In the same way as last time, the vulnerability of your manifested feelings left you warm and shy for him.

You picked at a loose string on your apron, gaze directed down and away. With his obscured view of your face, he could see the way you softly bit your lip, eyes occasionally raking him up and down and that retreating. Keigo could feel your pounding heart and slow, deep breaths.

...

Keigo was whipped and he hardly knew you. He was so fucked.

You were too fucking cute. It was fucking illegal. It had to be.

Keigo had been with sexy. He’d been with unattainable. He’d been with women and men who looked like they were crafted by gods as tempters and devils. It was all pleasure and Keigo knew it like the back of his hand. He got hedonistic bliss when he wanted it and he did so very, very well.

What Keigo was entirely unfamiliar with was the gooey, fluttery feeling in his chest as you finally looked up at him to smile and nod to the drink, “So, what do you think?”

Keigo’s brain fizzled, rendered into goo. If he didn’t have years of interpersonal training, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to speak with his own revelations. Luckily, he was able to laugh off his internal stickiness, taking another greedy sip.

“Absolutely flawless, wonderful craftsmanship, (Y/N),” Keigo bowed his head dramatically.

You giggled at Keigo’s drama, missing the way how his cheeks lit up for you.

Hawks dug in his pocket, pulling out a huge wad of bills and started to slide it across the counter, “This is a tip. All for you.”

You stared, horrified at the amount of money Hawks passed to you like it was nothing. Without thinking, you placed your hand on top of his, stopping his motion. Both of you stiffened pleasantly at the sudden, small contact.

“That’s too much, Hawks, no,” You shook your head, but Hawks was a stubborn, insistent bastard.

His wings fluffed up behind him, a feather moving quickly between your hands and pushing your up and away.

“What the fuck.” You half-groaned. Hawks fully passed the money across the counter, hiding his hands and feathers in his lap with a Panish smirk stretched across his face.

“Take it, or I tattle on you, easy trade,” Hawks shrugged, leaning his elbows on the counter and drinking deeply. He pulled away from his beverage with a relaxed-looking smile as you remained fluster.

(Holy fuck, you touched Hawks’s bare hand and it was so NICE—)

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers, staring at the money like some Olympic medal. You were well-aware that there was no way Hawks was taking back his money and you knew your coworkers would be too scared to ask for a cut.

You gulped, taking the cash and tucking it into your apron pocket.

“You don’t need to bribe me to make you nice drinks, Hawks, it’s literally my job,” You told him gently.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, shrugging, “Accept it as a little treat on the side. A gift of my appreciation.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you relented with a smile, shaking your head.

And the two of your dissolved into easy conversation. Hawks told you about the most recent gigs he had been a part of. A modeling contract for a new skincare company and a sponsorship with a few other local heroes for a sports beverage were the most interesting. You were sure he was just humoring you, unable to tell you the nitty-gritty details of his life. Yet, he seemed happy to speak and listen besides. He chattered away, in the way birds do, sing-song, and free-flowing.

Hawks was hardly a bird of prey, you realized. He was much more of a cockatoo type.

You told him more about the tea shop, about your role and job. As you explained about the basics of different types of tea, you could literally see the far off way Hawks looked at you. It wasn’t of distraction, like spacing out, no. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at you in some time. You silently and quickly studied it and came to the nerve-wracking conclusion that the cute blush on his cheeks and half-lidded eyes and relaxed shoulders was fucking captivation, borderline adoration.

For.

You.

How the fuck were you supposed to deal with that?

(Keigo wasn’t sure either.)

Luckily, neither of you planned on doing anything to stop your mutually budding feelings.

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #takami x reader #hawks x y/n #reader insert #my hero academia #mha reader insert #bnha reader insert #takami keigo x y/n #takami keigo #hawks

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ayybtch · 3 years

Text

The One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Things are going up and down for you as you try to navigate life after your breakup with Bucky. Everything leads to an accidental run-in with him at a coffee shop that leaves you and Bucky wondering if things could have been different. Based on the song The 1 by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: This is an angsty fic. The reader is actively struggling with mental illness and a breakup. There are mentions of being on antidepressants and symptoms such as anxiety, insomnia, and sometimes not having the energy for personal care, but nothing in-depth.

Word Count: 11,261

A/N: I owe a very special thank you to @borkingbarnes, who has supportively been screaming at me for writing this ever since I told her this idea and gave me some brilliant suggestions during her beta read. The dividers were made by the lovely @whimsicalrogers.

“So, how have the new meds been treating you? Are they still making you nauseous after you first take them?”

You looked across the room at your therapist and shook your head, “No, they’re not making me nauseous anymore. I’ve been making sure that I’ve got food in my stomach first and not just a cup of coffee. I’ve also been better about taking them at the same time each day,” you said.

She smiled at you. “Do you feel like they’ve been helping?”

You shrugged and offered a half-smile back. Not satisfied with your answer, she continued probing. “Well, do you feel like you have more energy than on the other meds? Are you sleeping more….?” She trailed off at the end, voice hopeful.

“Oh. Yeah, I have been sleeping a little better. I’ve been sleeping closer to 5 hours each night, though it’s still taking a really long time for me to fall asleep. I’ve had more energy but I don’t know if that’s because of the meds or the sleep?” You trailed off a bit at the end, unsure of if that truly answered her question.

“It could be a mix of both. I’m glad to hear you’re sleeping more though, you weren’t getting very much when you first started seeing me.” She offered you another smile before adjusting herself in her seat and continuing, “Now, what have you been doing with this extra energy? Any new hobbies, catching up with friends, going on dates, anything like that?”

You shook your head no. “I don’t have much of a friend group anymore, not since…” your voice faded before the sentence finished. You closed your eyes and shook your head slightly. Pull yourself together. “I am meeting Natasha after this, actually. She and I were friends before everything and she’s the only one that’s really stuck around since. It’s been about a month since I last saw her so I’m looking forward to seeing her.” The therapist nodded and offered a sympathetic smile that made your stomach turn. You decided to continue before she chimed in.

“I’m running again too. I used to go on a nightly run before things got bad. It’s not for as long or as far as I used to but it’s better than sitting on the couch, I guess.”

She nodded and began writing on her notepad, “That’s wonderful. What do you enjoy about your runs?”

Her question was unexpected and it took you a minute to answer. “It’s peaceful. It’s one of the few times I can shut my brain off and zone out. Though, if it’s a bad day it doesn't always work.”

She nodded and paused, as if trying to carefully choose her next words. “One thing I’ve noticed whenever stuff comes up is that you always talk about ‘before’, but what about the ‘after’? Have you thought about trying to get back out there and start your ‘after’?” An uncomfortable knot formed in your stomach as she spoke.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” you whispered.

She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. Eventually, she nodded and continued to make notes.

***

The session continued for another half hour before it ended with a smile and a brief conversation with her secretary, confirming your appointment for the same time next week.

As you stepped out the door, you let out a sigh of relief. Therapy sessions were hard. Even though today’s session had been relatively mild, the process was still draining and left you feeling exhausted most days. It really helped though and making the decision to go was one of the best decisions you could have made for yourself. A smile settled on your face as you pulled your jacket tighter across your chest before beginning your walk to meet Natasha.

You had discovered soon after starting therapy that walking to and from the appointment gave you the time you needed to prepare yourself for the session and unwind after. The hustle and bustle of New York created the perfect background noise for you to organize your thoughts. Most days it helped you process the questions the therapist asked. Often, you answered them a little deeper than what you had in the session knowing that nobody would know the real answer except for you.

Guilt gnawed at you as you thought about it. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to be honest? Were you still getting as much out of it as you could if you were completely honest? You shook your head and sighed. Sometimes there were things better left unsaid.

One of the many things that had been left unsaid had to do with what you missed most about being with him. You had shrugged it off when she asked, saying it was nice having a person around because it was less lonely. While true, the full answer was more painful than you felt comfortable admitting out loud. He had understood you in ways nobody else ever had and nobody else ever would again. It gave you the freedom to be unapologetically you every second of the day. The thought of not being known like that again and having to put on a facade felt like the loneliest existence the universe had to offer. It made your chest ache.

Today though, it gave you the chance to collect your thoughts before Natasha had the opportunity to interrogate you. To be fair, it wasn’t really an interrogation. She was far too gentle when she asked you questions, though you’re sure that’s one of the many techniques she chose from. Interrogation or not though, she would be watching you like a hawk the entire meal to make sure you were actually doing as well as you were claiming.

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside Natasha’s favorite Italian restaurant. She always recommended meeting up here purely because of the breadsticks. She swore they were the best in New York and ate at least three full baskets by herself each visit. You paused before entering, suddenly nervous about how it would go. There’s nothing to worry about, Natasha isn’t going to bring him up and isn’t going to push me past my boundaries. You weren’t quite as convinced as you would have liked to be, but you couldn’t delay it any longer as you stepped inside.

A blast of warm air surrounded you as you were greeted by the hostess. It didn’t take for her to lead you back to where Natasha was sitting, a glass of wine already in her hand. A second sat waiting on the table for you.

You walked over, bending down to give her a side hug and a peck on the cheek.

“You’re late,” she said reproachfully, eyes zeroed in on yours.

“I know, I’m sorry. My session went a little over today.” You pulled out your chair and sat down before continuing, “How are you? It’s good to see you.”

Natasha smiled brightly. “I’ve been good. I’ve been really looking forward to this, I was so happy when you said yes. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen you.” You grinned slightly and she continued. “I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to catch up. Work has been keeping me even busier than usual. Stark has been working on all sorts of new tech developments and has somehow recruited me for testing.”

You nodded as you took a sip of your wine, “Nothing he’s made has killed you yet. That’s impressive.”

She snorted, “He’s lucky I didn’t flat out say no. His last update to the Falcon wings sent Wilson through the ceiling and landed him in the medbay for three days with a concussion.” Natasha noticed the look of concern on your face and waved her hand as she sipped on her wine. “He’s fine, don’t worry. All of the Avengers men have skulls harder than concrete.” The two of you burst into laughter at the thought.

A waiter arrived as your laughter died down to take your orders and to refill Natasha’s wine glass. You both thanked him as he turned to walk away. A quiet settled over the table and Natasha’s gaze landed firmly on you.

“So how have you been?” she asked softly, voice far gentler than anyone would expect from a former assassin. You shrugged and avoided eye contact.

“Some days are better than others,” you said, “Overall things are better than they’ve been for a while now though. My shrink has me on some new meds that seem to be helping and I’ve been working harder on doing little things to take care of myself every day, not just the good days.”

Natasha nodded, eyes still fixed on you. Slowly, she reached a hand out across the table and placed it on top of yours. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You can call me any time of day and as long as I’m not on a mission, I can be at your apartment within the hour.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at her words. You nodded quickly, eyes blinking fast to try and keep the tears that were welling up from falling. She gave your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back.

“Now where the hell are our breadsticks? This is going to be a failed meal if I have less than twelve in me before the main dish arrives.” Her words made you burst out laughing once again and succeeded in putting a smile on your face for the remainder of the meal.

***

“Are you sure I can’t drive you back to your apartment?” Natasha asked, wrapping her scarf around her neck as the two of you stepped out of the restaurant. You nodded at her and smiled.

“I enjoy walking, it clears my mind,” you said. She let out a disapproving hum but didn’t argue further. She pulled you into a bone-crushing hug before turning and walking towards where her car was parked. You watched as she stepped in and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot. You stood and watched until her car was out of sight before turning to start the walk home.

As it was on the walk to the restaurant, the busy streets provided the perfect background noise needed for you to quiet your mind. You focused on your breathing, allowing yourself to try and channel any residual nervous energy outward. With each breath, the faces passing by began to blur. Neon signs hanging in the windows of the shops you passed by became nothing more than a gentle glow in your peripheral. With each step you took, the background seamlessly blended together more and your focus on yourself heightened. A sense of calm settled itself in your chest. The feeling grew stronger with each block you passed until a small smile made its way onto your face. That feeling ended abruptly as you turned around the next block.

There was a large crowd waiting at the bus stop, but your eyes focused on one man. You stared at his silhouette, panic building with each second. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you and your feet had magically turned into cinder blocks. Is that...? No, it couldn’t be…

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, the man turned slightly so you could see his face, and a sigh of relief left you. You stood there a moment longer to examine his side profile. It wasn’t him; he just happened to look like him. He was about the same height and weight, with similar chocolate waves. Your eyes landed on his light brown leather jacket and a lump formed in your throat. He had worn a similar jacket the day you met. It felt like being thrown back in time as you continued to stare at the man in front of you.

Natasha drug you through a hallway, not caring about your protests to slow down. “I have someone I want you to meet.” She smirked as she spoke, leaving you to wonder what she was plotting.

A group of choices greeted the two of you as you entered the room. You waved at Steve and Sharon sitting on the couch as Natasha continued to pull you across the room to where two men were standing. One of the men was Sam, whom you had met the last time Natasha brought you to the compound. The other was Bucky Barnes. You hadn’t met him before but you knew who he was. It was impossible not to given how public everything about Hydra had become.

“Barnes, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Natasha said, turning slightly towards you.

Bucky turned to look at you, offering a charming smile as he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Bucky.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself, hoping to god you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. The pictures of him floating around on the news did not do him justice. Bucky was absolutely breathtaking. His smile lit up his eyes in a way no camera could ever hope to capture. His hair was cropped just above his shoulders, falling into a beautiful wavy pattern. You realized you were staring and felt your face get hot.

“Uh, I like your jacket,” you mumbled, hoping he hadn’t realized you were staring. The leather jacket was a beautiful light brown. It looked old, but well loved at the same time.

He smiled widely at you, “Thanks! Leather jackets are kind of my thing. Sam here thinks I have too many but there’s no such thing as too many leather jackets, wouldn’t you agree?”

As the memory floated away, you couldn’t help but think how Bucky probably would’ve gone up to the man to ask about his jacket. You chuckled at the thought. As soon as he walked away, he would’ve immediately started looking up where he could find one for his own closet. It didn’t matter how many leather jackets he had. He always wanted more.

The chuckle died on your lips and was replaced by an uncomfortable knot settling in your stomach. A heavy weight fell on your chest and you forced yourself to find the energy to trudge forward.

The remainder of the walk was a blur, but not in the same way it had been before. This wasn’t the good kind of blur that helped you to focus. It was the kind that left you feeling suffocated and as if everything would come crashing down all at once. That had been the first happy thought about Bucky since the two of you broke up. His presence in your thoughts was so strong, he might as well have been walking right next to you. You could practically feel his knuckles brushing against yours with each step you took. If you closed your eyes, you swore you could smell his cologne.

The harsh reality of how alone you were hit you as the greeting from your apartment’s doorman pulled you from your thoughts. You shot him a small smile before rushing inside and all but sprinting up the stairs. Your hands shook as you unlocked the door to your apartment, though you couldn't tell if it was from your thoughts of Bucky or from the sudden burst of energy that left you slightly winded.

Once inside, you rushed to your bedroom and changed into the first sports bra and pair of leggings you saw. You needed to get Bucky off your mind and the only way you knew how was to run. It was going to be a long run tonight.

The doorman waved at you again as you exited the building, surprised to see you again so soon. “Someone is feeling motivated today I see,” he joked. You shrugged and slowly began to jog.

***

It took a while to get into your groove, but once you were there you felt good. The movement helped settle the anxious energy that had been building since you had seen the man at the bus stop, while the steady breathing brought your focus back to the here and now just like it had before. That’s something else to mention if she asks about my runs again, you thought. These runs bring my focus to this exact moment in time.

That thought was lost as you passed a small, hole in the wall theater. Small groups were exiting the building, each talking excitedly amongst themselves about the movie that had just finished. The nauseous feeling from earlier came back as memories resurfaced. That was Bucky’s favorite movie theater. Every Sunday they played movies from the 1920s and 1930s. He used to drag you along with him whenever he saw one he remembered from his childhood. Each time he swore up and down that you were about to experience a cinematic masterpiece like no other and that it would change the way you looked at movies. You always rolled your eyes as he said it, but the magic you felt in that theater with him was like no other.

Movies made back then were so different from the movies made now. The characters felt so much more real. They were allowed to be people. Their faults and flaws didn’t take away from the good things about them. These films never failed to make you feel all of the emotions you were meant to feel and each time you exited the theater, you couldn’t help but wish you could’ve remained in that little bubble just a few minutes longer. Those bittersweet feelings about the ending never lasted long though, as Bucky would wrap his arm around your shoulder and proceed to talk your ear off about the movie until you made it home.

“You know Doll, the greatest films of all time were never made,” he said, smiling down at you.

You just laughed and shook your head.“Bucky that makes absolutely no sense.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically, making you laugh again. “Think about it though, how many movies haven’t been made because someone decided they weren’t good enough for the big screen? How many stories have been brought into existence but never been told to another living soul?”

A car horn brought you back into reality. Bitterness crept into your chest as you processed the memory that had just played out picture-perfect in your mind. Those afternoons with him in the theater had been some of the best afternoons of your life. Even if you weren’t crazy about the movie, Bucky’s sheer excitement about it was enough to convince you of how wonderful it truly was. If only he had felt that same amount of joy in other areas of your relationship.

Your bitterness slowly began to turn to anger as you thought about the last few months of being with Bucky. Sunday matinees had stopped being a regular thing as Bucky’s work schedule picked up until they stopped happening entirely. His new position training new SHIELD agents and prospective new members to the Avenger ate away at his time. All of his time. It got to the point Bucky never stopped working. Even at home, his thoughts were on paperwork to be filed, training to be planned, or meetings to be run. You’d be sitting on the couch next to him trying to talk only to receive disinterested “hmms” or the occasional “That’s nice honey.”

You tried bringing it up to no avail. He always brushed it off and said things would calm down eventually and that he just needed you to hold out a bit longer. He never outright said his work was more important to him but the implication was there and you felt the weight of it every single day. You bit your tongue and played along for a while, but after several months of hearing the same excuses, you finally snapped. Unfortunately, so did Bucky.

“All you ever do is work. I can’t remember the last time we went and did something together. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time you cared enough to even ask me about my day. It’s like you don’t even want me around anymore,” you hissed, glaring at Bucky.

“Excuse me for caring about my fucking job. One of us has to if we’re going to continue affording this place,” he scoffed.

Ice filled your veins as you stared at him, fist clenched at your side. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, we both know you’re barely getting your work done on time. You lay here on the couch all day watching TV. You’re lucky you’re allowed to work from home because you look like a walking disaster half the time. You’ve stopped wearing clean clothes, you hardly shower, you hardly eat, and you hardly sleep. Face it, you’re depressed.” His voice was flat as he spoke.

You furiously blinked back tears that were trying to well up as you processed his words. “First of all, I am not depressed,” you muttered, “Second, if I’m such a walking disaster then what are you even still doing here?”

“I am still here because I care about you. I have lost track of how many times I have asked you to get help. I’ve been where you are, I know what you’re going through and I know what it takes to come back from it. If you never bleed, you’re never going to grow. If you can’t move past this, then we -” he paused to motion between the two of you “- can’t move past this.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke. There was no malice in them, but there was also none of the kindness or warmth you wished for. His gaze just felt indifferent.

You remained silent as you tried to find words. Bucky continued watching you, waiting expectantly for a response. A response never came, however, and he let out a loud sigh.

“If you don’t have anything to say to that, then I think we’re done here. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I love you, but neither of us is happy. I can’t give you what you want and you can’t give me what I need,” Without another word, Bucky grabbed his coat and walked out the front door of the apartment.

That was the last time that you saw Bucky. He had sent you a text a few days later asking when a good time to come pick up his stuff would be. You responded begrudgingly, telling yourself that the sooner his stuff was gone the sooner your life could get back to normal. When the day came, you forced yourself to get out of the apartment. The thought of seeing him after what went down between you left you seeing red. When you finally went back after he left, you felt none of the happy emotions you had convinced yourself you would feel.

Instead, you felt the empty spots in the room. Every missing item you noticed felt like a blow to the stomach and caused fresh tears to well up in your eyes. Pictures were no longer hanging from the walls; random gaps were in the bookshelves; his leather jacket was no longer slung across the back of the chair he loved in the living room. You stumbled back to your room with your eyes closed, refusing to see what other memories had been ripped from their rightful homes. Once there, you collapsed on the bed and laid there for two days. It wasn’t until Natasha broke into your apartment to check on you after countless missed calls and ignored texts that you finally moved from that spot.

For the millionth time that day, your stomach twisted as thoughts of Bucky floated around in your head. Despite it all, you regretted not being there when he came to get his things. There was never a proper goodbye between you and the thought drove you mad sometimes. Maybe if I had been there, we could’ve worked this out. You scoffed at the thought, but couldn’t deny the heaviness lingering in your chest.

At times you considered reaching out to him, wondering if he would be willing to give you the closure you so desperately needed. Even if it was just over text, it might be better than the nothing you currently had. You still had his number. The two of you even still followed each other on social media. He liked what few posts you made, but you had never been able to bring yourself to look at the stuff he posted. The lines of communication were there, you just had to use them. But communication is a two-way street; if he wanted to talk to you, he’d reach out. Right? That thought had kept you from texting him more times than you could possibly count.

Questions about what could have happened that day swirled throughout your head as your feet pounded against the pavement. Could you have fixed things, or would it still have ended in breaking up? Could you have agreed to still be friends? Would you have at least been able to say goodbye, or would he have walked silently out the door again?

The thoughts continued to plague you until the ache in your legs was too strong to take another step. Out of breath, you looked around at where you stopped trying to figure out how far you had run. It wasn’t until you noticed the fountain about a dozen feet behind you that you realized where you were.

Tony had once rented out a plaza nearby for a 1920s themed fundraiser gala the first year you and Bucky were dating. The gala was the first public event you ever attended with him, though it certainly hadn’t been your last. Natasha had taken you shopping and helped you find a flapper-style dress leading up to it. The two of you did your hair and makeup together, giggling about how you felt like you were getting ready for a high school dance. When you stepped out of the room with Natasha, Bucky wasn’t able to speak. He spent the whole night staring at you like a lovestruck teenager, only to turn bright red whenever someone mentioned it.

Towards the end of the night, you and Bucky had drunkenly stumbled out of the plaza to escape the crowd and found your way over to this fountain. Rather, you had stumbled out drunkenly. Bucky wasn’t affected by human alcohol and hardly had any of the Asgardian mead Thor had so generously brought. While he was a little more cheery than usual, he wasn’t intoxicated enough to even pretend like he was tipsy.

A giggle left your lips as you stumbled forward. “Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.”

Bucky laughed at you and picked you up, carrying you bridal style. He spun around slowly as he searched for somewhere he could set you down. His eyes eventually settled on the fountain and began walking towards it. He carefully set you down before sitting down next to you. His eyes were fixed on you as you took off your shoes, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth as you did. You smiled over at him, before turning around to stare at the fountain in wonder. A giggle left your lips as you pulled up your dress and began walking around in the fountain.

You laughed any time you went through a jet of water. The temperature difference was soothing against your skin and almost left a tickling sensation as you passed. Eventually, you arrived back at where he was sitting and the smile on his face filled your stomach with butterflies. You bent down slightly to press your lips against his, your hands making their way through his hair. His hands landed on your hips and pulled you closer to him. You felt dizzy as he held you, though you weren’t sure if it was him or the glasses of champagne. You pulled away abruptly as an idea struck you, leading to Bucky’s eyes opening in confusion. His gaze fell upon the mischievous look you wore and he opened his mouth to speak. Before he managed to make a sound, your hands left his hair and were reaching down to splash water onto him.

He tried to catch your hands to stop you, but you stepped back just out of reach, but not far enough you couldn’t keep splashing him. Without a word, he reached down to take off his shoes and socks. A gasp left you as he stepped into the fountain and you rushed to hide behind the fountain’s centerpiece. He chased after you, hands eventually catching your waist and spinning you around to face him. He stared down at you, wonder and adoration written on his face. He slowly leaned forward to press his lips against yours.

The dizzy feeling from before came back, though this time you could say with absolute certainty it was because of the man standing in front of you. His lips were so soft against yours, yet still carried such a force they left you breathless. Fireworks had nothing on how he made you feel. No words could ever hope to describe the love and adoration bursting in your chest.

This time, he was the one to pull back first. He moved his lips up slightly, pressing a kiss to your nose and your forehead before leaning his head against yours. “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and the two of you began to slow dance in the fountain. You don’t know how long you were in the fountain dancing; it felt like eternity paused to give you and your love all the time the universe had to give so you could enjoy this moment a little longer. The only sensations tying you to reality were Bucky’s warmth and the cool water moving at your feet as Bucky spun you around. You pulled away slightly and smiled at him. “We should make a wish,” you said.

Bucky looked at you with confusion. “A wish?”

You nodded, a small smile filling your face, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

The laugh that left his lips made your heart flutter. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he paused to laugh again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.” One of his hands left yours and reached into his pocket, looking for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out two pennies and handed one to you. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

You stared down at the penny in your hand, wondering what wish could possibly be better than the night you were currently having with Bucky. The wish hit you suddenly, a smile breaking out on your face. You pressed your lips to the penny and wished with all your might, ‘I wish for us to have more moments like this together, from now through the rest of our days”. You opened your eyes and tossed the penny outward. Bucky’s coin was soon nestled safely at the bottom of the fountain with yours.

“What did you wish for?” he asked, pulling you back into his arms to continue dancing.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as he spun you. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

Bucky chuckled, “Me too honey, me too.”

Your eyes came back into focus and a quiet sob left you. You stood in front of the fountain and cried into your hands, cursing all of the emotions you felt. That night had left you convinced that Bucky Barnes was the one. You had fallen asleep dreaming of dancing like that with him at your wedding. But now? Now all you wanted to do was scream. You wanted to scream at him, at yourself, and at the universe for being cruel enough to lead you back to this fountain without him at your side.

As the tears began to slow, a new kind of weight settled in your chest. He really could have been the one. He could have been everything you dreamed of and more, but there was nothing you could do to go back in time to change things. He decided to walk out that door and leave you with nothing more than an empty space in your heart, one to match the empty spaces he left in your apartment.

The questions the therapist had asked you started ringing through your ears as you continued to stare blankly at the fountain. What about the ‘after’? Maybe she had a point bringing it up today. You were still stuck in the ‘before’. Maybe it was finally time to start moving on. Missing items could be replaced; missing love could be given by someone else. All you had to do was make the decision to take your first steps into the ‘after’.

Your feet remained glued in place as you tried to make sense of it all.

You were confused as to where you were. Looking around, nothing seemed familiar. It wasn’t until a familiar silhouette caught your attention that you realized where you were. Bucky stood at the top of the mountain, staring down at the canyon below. Green trees and bushes lined the ground and the air was filled with the sound of birds chirping. The view was beautiful, but you couldn’t stop staring at Bucky. He looked the same, yet something felt different. Bucky seemed calmer than you had seen him in years, almost as if all of his stress had faded away. His body language was relaxed and he seemed to be in no rush to leave where he was.

Suddenly, the once green mountain top was now covered in a blanket of snow. Bucky was now wearing a thick winter coat and was strapping his feet onto a snowboard. He soon had his helmet and goggles on and began his descent down the mountain. It felt like you were flying along with him as you watched him expertly weave his way through the trees. The ease at which he moved confused you. Since when did Bucky know how to snowboard? He expressed wanting to try but never had while you were together. Confusion clouded your mind until Bucky reached the bottom of the mountain and came to a halt. He removed his helmet and a look of pure exhilaration filled his face. His excitement made your heart burst. As you reached out to try and touch him, the scene changed once again.

This time you were in the middle of the ocean. The vast expanse of blue was the only visible thing in sight other than Bucky. He was in full scuba gear, just floating there waiting. He was so still that if it weren't for the stream of bubbles that came with each exhale, you wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was breathing. Out of nowhere, a shape appeared in the distance. As it got closer, you felt your stomach drop. A large shark swam slowly towards Bucky. You rolled your eyes at the realization. Of course, he would go swimming with sharks with no safety cage. That idiot had no respect for your nerves or your -

You were woken up abruptly by the sound of your phone ringing. You groaned and cursed yourself for it somehow not being on silent. In your confused state, you reached out and slowly felt around on the top of your nightstand trying to find your phone. Once you found it, you tilted the screen so you could see who was calling. A beautiful picture of Natasha filled your screen and you sighed. Only Natasha could call randomly and happen to wake you up from a dream about Bucky. You pressed the answer button and begrudgingly brought the phone to your ear.

“Morning, you better have a good reason for waking me up,” you mumbled, letting out a yawn as you finished speaking.

“It’s past noon, you know. Most decent people are already up by now,” You could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

“Shut up. It’s still morning if I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. What do you want? I was having a nice dream.”

Your gruff response got a laugh from Natasha. “Well I was calling to see how your Tinder date went last night, but now I’m wondering if I should be asking what you were dreaming about that has you being this testy,” she teased.

You rubbed your eyes and groaned, “The dream was nothing special, I’m just mad you woke me up. The Tinder date was also nothing to write home about. The guy was awful. He started off super charming like they always do, but he got snappy with our waitress and then tried to get snappy with me when I called him out on it. I paid for my half of the bill and left as quickly as I could.”

“Ugh, gross. Men are actually the worst,” Natasha said. You hummed in agreement and she continued, “So are you ready for me to start setting you up, or are you going to keep giving these Tinder people a try?”

You sighed and paused for a moment to think. “Nat, I know you’re trying to help but the only people you have that you can set me up with are all SHIELD employees. I don’t see it ending well if I go down that path given my prior dating history.”

A scoff came through the phone. “He’s dating again too, so he has no right to be pissy about anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, he was also the one who ended it so he doubly has no right to be upset.”

You sat up straight as she spoke, your stomach dropping at the thought. “He’s dating again?” Your voice sounded small, smaller than it had in ages.

This time it was Natasha’s turn to pause before responding. “Yes. He’s taken a few of the receptionists here out on coffee dates, but nothing seems to be sticking. If Wilson is to be believed, he’s also on Tinder. I can’t imagine that’s working out very well for him either though.”

You felt nauseous, but you forced yourself to pause to recenter your thoughts. Of course he would be dating again. It’s been almost a year since you broke up. If you’re dating again, it only makes sense that he is as well. He deserves to be happy too. A heavy sigh left you, “Well, I hope he’s having better luck than I am.”

***

You were on the phone with Natasha for another twenty minutes before she had to go. It felt nice catching up with her, and the two of you made plans for another lunch get together later in the week. The conversation had quickly transitioned away from dating, but the fact Bucky was dating again lingered in the back of your mind for the entirety of the call.

You had been on Tinder for a while now, but somehow it never occurred to you that he might be too. How does a superhero just casually join the worst dating app in existence? Do people actually believe it’s him when they come across his profile? You couldn’t help but snort at the thought. Conversations on dating apps sucked enough as it is, but having to try and prove you’re who you say you are the way Bucky must have to certainly would make it that much less enjoyable.

Almost as if it knew you were thinking about it, a Tinder notification popped up on your lock screen. You opened up the app and saw two new messages from someone you had matched with. You typed out a response and then proceeded to scroll through the list of other potential matches. Most of the profiles you looked at were immediate no’s, but there were a few you swiped right on. It never ceased to amaze you how bad the men on this app were at smiling in pictures. Most of them had only a slight grin in one or two pictures. Any profile with a man properly smiling almost always got a swipe right. The only other type of picture that had that sort of response was for cute cats and dogs.

You continued to swipe, pausing occasionally to respond to a message. Out of nowhere, a familiar pair of blue eyes started staring up at you, causing you to nearly drop your phone in surprise. Of course the day you find out Bucky is on Tinder is the day you come across his profile. You quickly took a screenshot before swiping left and exiting out of the app. You sent the screenshot to Natasha. She responded almost immediately, Guess Wilson was telling the truth 🙄

You laughed at her response as you got out of bed, ready to finally start your day.

***

A sigh of relief left you as you collapsed on your couch after spending most of the afternoon running errands. It hadn’t been anything too bad, but that didn’t stop you from being thankful it was over. You laid there for a few minutes, just enjoying the stillness and the comfort of being on your couch. Once settled, you reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the glass of wine you had poured, and opened up your phone.

You opened up Snapchat and responded to the few snaps you had from Natasha and other friends before opening up Instagram. You mindlessly watched people’s stories, skipping through any of the ones that didn’t interest you. You paused however on Bucky’s.

He was standing next to a beautiful woman, each of them holding a painting in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Both of them had smiles that filled their faces. You stared at the picture, unsure of what you should be feeling. On one hand, it was nice seeing him so relaxed and happy. His posture reminded you eerily of how he looked in your dream. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of bitterness. You had practically begged him to go with you to a wine and paint night while you were together. He always used work as an excuse, either he was too tired from work or he had too much work left to do. You stared at the picture for a minute longer, wondering if they’d be going home together or parting ways for the night. You sighed, shaking your head at your own stupidity before continuing to scroll.

The wind blew violently around you as you struggled to make your way up the street. The weather turned unexpectedly as you were out on your run, so you rushed towards the closest coffee shop hoping to wait out the weather and avoid having to pay for a cab back home. The barista greeted you as you stepped inside and you offered her a smile.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

You stared up at the menu, considering your options. “One large hazelnut latte and a cinnamon roll, please.”

She entered everything into the computer and you held out your card for her. Once your payment was processed, you turned to find a seat. The coffee shop was crowded, no doubt due to the bad weather driving people indoors. You looked around unsuccessfully and had almost resigned yourself to standing when a familiar voice called out.

You jumped at the sound. You turned around and made eye contact with Bucky Barnes for the first time since he walked out your front door. He was sitting there grinning ear to ear, almost as if he was genuinely happy to see you. The thought made your heart burst and it was impossible to hold back an equally big smile.

“Hey Bucky, how’s it going?”

“It’s going really well! Thanks for asking,” he paused and looked around before continuing, “Do you want to sit down? There’s not a lot of seating left and it’s just me here.” His hand gestured towards the empty seat across from him as he spoke.

You paused, unsure of if you should take it or continue to look elsewhere. You looked around the room for an empty seat but didn��t see any. Well, I guess we’re doing this. You stepped forward and mumbled out a thanks as you sat down.

“I’m kind of surprised to see you here if I’m honest. I didn’t think you came to this part of the city very often,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I generally don’t. The weather took a bit of a nasty turn while I was out on my run. I stepped in hoping that by the time I’m ready to leave it’ll have calmed down.”

Another smile broke out across his face as you spoke. “You’re running again? That’s awesome.” He sounded sincere as he spoke which made you smile back.

You nodded, but before you could respond the barista arrived with your coffee and cinnamon roll. You thanked her and took a long sip of your coffee, enjoying the warmth you felt as you did. An awkward silence filled the air as both of you tried to size the other up. You decided to break the silence.

“So, what’s new with you?”

***

An hour later, the two of you were still chatting away happily at the table. Once the conversation started, it didn’t stop. Everything felt like it had at the start of your relationship: easy, comfortable, and filled with excitement. The only pauses that occurred were when the barista refilled both of your coffees and brought Bucky a cinnamon roll, which he ordered after you spent five minutes going on about how incredible it was.

One of the things you had forgotten about being around Bucky was the warmth he exuded. Even on his worst days, he had the unwavering ability to make the room feel safe. You couldn’t ever quite pin down whether it had to do with his cologne being a comforting smell or if that’s just who he was. All you knew is that he always left you aching to lean into his chest and stay there until you absolutely couldn’t. Needless to say, today it left you feeling quite confused given everything that had happened between you.

The thoughts you had several months ago about getting closure were brought back to the forefront of your mind. How had things gotten so bad between you? How had both of you let this wonderful thing fall to pieces without even one final attempt at holding it together? Each little pause in the conversation as you transitioned between topics left you aching to ask all of the questions you had. Everything was so easy and so smooth between you today that you almost felt hope that things were salvageable between you. Maybe, just maybe, your fountain wish could still come true. As you were finally working up the courage to ask, his next sentence knocked all other thoughts out of your head.

“Did you hear that Steve and Sharon are finally engaged? Took that meathead long enough to ask.”

A gasp left your mouth, “No way! It’s about freaking time. Have they picked a date yet?”

He nodded. “First weekend in June. Sharon’s already picked their wedding colors too; sage green and rose gold. She explicitly said she picked rose gold because she wants to serve that rosé champagne you introduced her to. It’s still her favorite to this day.”

A bittersweet smile made its way onto your face as you thought about what he said. You had brought two bottles of that sparking rosé to a dinner Sharon hosted once, back when she and Steve were still circling around their feelings for each other. Sharon had barely taken her first sip before asking you for details on where you bought it. Ever since, Sharon always had a bottle in her fridge. Her friendship was the one you missed the most after the breakup. There had been a few half-hearted attempts from both of you to reach out, but each time her responses felt forced. Eventually you stopped trying.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful wedding. They deserve it,” you said. A chuckle left your lips as a new thought entered your head. “How on Earth is Steve going to choose between you and Sam for best man?”

Bucky joined in on your laughter, making your stomach do summersault after summersault. “Sam and I were actually wondering the same thing, but apparently they’ve decided to not do a bridal party. That makes things easy for me though. I get to kick back and enjoy the wedding knowing I have no responsibilities.”

The idea of Bucky having a blast at a wedding made you smile. The smile faded slightly as you realized this meant Bucky was now going to need a date for this wedding. Images of him in a fancy suit, twirling another woman around the way he had in the fountain with you flashed before your eyes. You felt your heart breaking all over again at the thought of how it could’ve been you if you hadn’t fucked it all up. How stupid could you have been thinking the two of you could talk things out after all this time. He’s probably already planning on asking that girl from the wine and paint night to go with him. She had appeared on his social media several times since that night and each time it made your chest ache a little more. Bucky’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. You tried smiling but felt yourself falter and knew he noticed it too. “Yeah, just caught up in my thoughts.” You needed to get out of here and fast. Conveniently, your phone screen lit up and you were able to fake gasp at the time. “Oh my god, look how late it is. I really should get going.”

Bucky stared at you, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change in the atmosphere. You stood and rushed to collect your things.

“It was really nice seeing you again Bucky,” you said, offering him a half-smile as you take your first steps away from the table. He nodded, still looking unconvinced.

“It really was. Maybe we could do this again sometime?” He asked, trying his hardest to keep too much optimism from creeping into his voice.

Your eyes went wide with surprise, but you slowly nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

The same awkward silence from before filled the air, only this time neither of you seemed to know how to break it. You offered a small wave and made your way out the door, refusing to turn around and hug him despite how strongly your body was screaming at you to do so.

Bucky stood there staring after you until you were out of sight. A sigh left him after you rounded a corner and he began to collect his things.

***

Bucky had made his way back to the Avengers compound with relative ease, though his mind was still stuck back at the coffee shop with you. He had nearly choked on his coffee when he saw you walk in and hardly realized what he was doing when he called out to you. His mind had started screaming at him from the second he offered you a seat and apparently had yet to find a good enough reason to stop. Talking to you had been magical. He had forgotten how well the two of you meshed once a conversation was started. Nobody else had ever been able to keep up with his constant jumping between topics, not even Sam and Steve. You never made him feel bad for his quick transitions; you just understood and accepted that was the way his mind worked. Even after all that time, you took it all in stride.

An unexpected slam of a cabinet door caught his attention as he made his way through the communal kitchen. Sam was standing there, unloading dishes from the dishwasher. Bucky greeted the man with a gentle nod of the head as he pulled out one of the barstools to sit.

“That was a long coffee shop visit, you run into a cute girl there?” Sam teased, smirk playing across his face.

“I ran into her.”

Sam’s motions paused as he processed Bucky’s words. He looked up at his friend, who was conveniently not meeting his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “Her as in…?”

Bucky nodded and Sam let out a slow puff of air. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked cautiously.

It took a few minutes for Bucky to find the words. “You know Sammy, I actually don’t know. There are too many contradictory feelings in my head to pinpoint just one.” He finally looked up and met Sam’s eyes.

Sam motioned for him to continue.

“It was so nice to see her again and talk to her. It made me feel like things were back when we were both still head over heels in love with each other. She’s doing so well. She’s made huge progress mentally, she’s been given a promotion at work, she’s just out there living her life. It made me so happy to see...

“But the happier I got sitting there talking to her, the angrier I got with myself for being such an ass while I was with her. Who has a woman like that in their life and chooses to ignore her for work? What kind of jerk does that?” He paused for a moment, staring down at his feet before continuing.

“There was a moment where she looked at me and I looked at her and I just knew we were both wondering where the hell we went so wrong. She looked like she wanted to say something so badly, but decided against it and just...got up and left. I kinda deserved it though-” he let out a dark chuckle, “- it’s what I did to her after all.”

Sam had continued unloading the dishes as Bucky spoke, trying to keep things casual while he got everything off his chest. Once Sam knew Bucky was done, he paused and rested both hands on the counter to give his friend his full attention.

“Yeah, you were an ass who put work first. She was a great girl who loved you unconditionally. You let her down and yourself down too. But she also had her issues that contributed to what happened. It’s not all on you.” Sam shot a reassuring smile at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, knowing Sam was right. He couldn’t help but sigh and put his head in his hands though as more thoughts swirled around in his head. “I can’t help but think about how my actions probably worsened things for her though, you know? She was depressed for a while before I started acting that way, but I certainly didn’t help the situation. And just...I walked out on her. I walked out and didn’t even give her a proper goodbye.”

Sam stood still and nodded along. “You did, but what you’re forgetting is that you also did because it was also the best thing for you at the time. Both of you were unhappy with who the other was becoming at that time. Sometimes breaking up is the best route to take and they don’t always end with a clear-cut goodbye. You guys may have missed out on some closure, but if today went as well as you said it did, maybe you’ve got a different kind of closure coming down the pipe.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed softly, “Man, what did your dumb ass do with girls before I came along?” He continued laughing for a moment before resuming, “What I’m getting at is that if today went as well as you think before the awkward ending, what if there’s a possibility of reconciling? Even if it’s not in a romantic sense, you could always try and be friends.”

For a moment, Bucky’s heart surged. Maybe Sam was right, maybe things could be fixed. He knew things were going well before you got up to leave, maybe he could try and make things right.

Then, the memory of how uneasy and uncomfortable you looked at the end of the conversation replayed in his mind. He felt his throat tighten and tears well up in his eyes. You didn’t want him back. He had his chance today and he blew it.

He shook his head slowly and whispered, “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Sammy.”

***

Sam eventually let the topic drop and Bucky was free to make his way back to his rooms. A familiar meow rang out from across the room and was soon followed by the sound of excited footsteps rushing towards him. Alpine rubbed himself against Bucky’s legs, meowing expectantly. He chuckled and crouched down to rub Alpine’s ears.

“Hey there buddy, did you miss me?”

Alpine meowed, almost as if to say yes. Bucky smiled and picked up the cat before standing up. He made his way to his bedroom and let Alpine jump down onto the bed once they were close enough. His boots were kicked off haphazardly at the foot of the bed before he climbed into bed. Alpine came and curled up under one of his arms, purring slightly as he did. A sigh left him as he mindlessly pet the cat and adjusted his position until he was comfortable.

Bucky’s thoughts turned back to you almost immediately. His heart ached as he began to relive the night he knew he had fallen in love with you. How he wished he could go back in time and experience it all over again.

“So, Stark is holding a fundraiser in about three weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” Bucky asked.

The smile on your face made his heart flutter. “Of course! What’s the dress code?” you asked. “I’m not sure if I have anything fancy enough to wear to a Stark gala.”

“It’s a 1920s theme. I’m not entirely sure what he means by that though, considering I was barely old enough to remember the first half of the decade.”

A teasing smile broke out across your face as he spoke. “So what you're telling me is the oldest man in the room somehow still isn’t old enough to remember the roaring twenties? Tsk tsk,” Your teasing tone made him laugh and lean over to kiss you.

“I’ll have you know young lady -” he paused to place kisses all over your face “- this is a completely unacceptable thing to say. Don’t you know you should respect your elders?” You continued to giggle as he continued to kiss you.

***

On the day of the gala, you were whisked away early in the day by Natasha. She claimed the whole day was needed to properly prepare, which left Bucky standing there rolling his eyes. But when you finally stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of the compound, Bucky felt his heart stop. You looked ethereal. The flapper style dress you were wearing fit you perfectly, your hair was elegantly framing your face, and your lips were painted the most perfect shade of red he had ever seen. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the entire night.

By the end of the night, the champagne finally had gone to your head and you were desperate to leave. You grabbed his hand giggling, rushing as quickly as you could out of the reserved plaza. You stumbled a few times over the uneven cobblestones, so he kept a hand on your waist just in case.

“Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.” you giggled as you spoke, making his heart flutter for the millionth time that night. Without a word, he picked you up bridal style and slowly spun around as he searched for somewhere you could sit.

His eyes landed on a large fountain a short distance away and he began walking towards it. You settled comfortably into his arms, with one hand sneaking under his tux jacket and gripping gently onto his shirt just over his heart. Bucky wondered if you could tell it was about ready to beat out of his chest as he leaned slightly to set you down on the fountain’s edge. He had hardly sat down next to you before your heels were kicked off. It was amazing how much more relaxed you looked just from doing that.

He was so focused on how beautiful you looked he almost didn’t hear you giggle or realize what you were about to do. His jaw dropped slightly as you stood in front of him in the fountain, dress pulled up slightly as you waded in.

Bucky’s eyes never left you as you walked around, letting out the cutest laughs with each stream of water that you walked under. When you arrived back at where he was sitting and his whole world stopped as you bent forward to press your sweet lips against his. Your hands found their way to his hair as his made their way to your hips. With every ounce of his being, he wished his hands could make their home. They belonged there, allowing him to hold you so tightly against him it was almost impossible to tell where his body stopped and yours began.

It startled him when you pulled away suddenly, but the confusion didn’t last long as he was met with a handful of water and mischievous laughter. The splashing was relentless. You refused to stop despite him begging for you to quit it. He rushed to remove his shoes and socks so he could jump into the fountain with you. The excited squeal that left your mouth as you started rushing through the water trying to escape him made him grin. He was going to catch you and you knew it. That didn’t stop you from trying to delay the inevitable though. You tried to hide behind the fountain's centerpiece and to fake which direction you were going to run. When you decided to leave the safety of the centerpiece, he had you back in his arms facing him within seconds.

As he watched your face, the overwhelming urge to confess the extent of his feelings filled his chest. He loved you. He had known for weeks now, but staring at your beautiful face reaffirmed it so deeply in his soul that it felt like an integral part of who he was now. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed him. Instead, he leaned forward and he channeled everything he had into a kiss. He wanted this to be the kind of kiss written about in fairytales; one that leaves audiences tearing up over and longing for. He hoped you felt everything he didn’t have the courage to say tonight and the small voice in his head hoped you felt the same.

He felt you smile into the kiss, making his heart swell. He pulled away gently after a moment, staying close enough to press kisses across your face. You had told him once how special you felt when he did it; now he couldn't stop doing it. He needed you to know how special you were to him, how loved you were in his arms. When he was satisfied, he rested his forehead against yours. An idea struck him and he smiled at you, “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and he began to lead you in a slow dance throughout the fountain. He had never felt more grateful for the dancing experience he gained in his youth and that it was a skill he somehow kept throughout the years of brainwashing and torture. The feeling of your body against his calmed his mind and kept his focus from wandering back to the past. The only thing he wanted to think about right now was how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to have you.

After a few minutes of him leading you aimlessly around the fountain, you pulled away gently and looked up at him with a smile. “We should make a wish.”

His face twisted with confusion. “A wish?”

You smiled as you nodded at him, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

Bucky laughed as he thought about how much like a fairytale this night was turning into. Apparently his kiss had done the trick. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he chuckled again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.”

Reluctantly, he let go of your hand and fished around in his pocket until he found his wallet. He’d never felt more relieved to see pennies in his life as he pulled out the only two coins he had. He pressed one into your hand as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

He watched as you stared down at the penny, wondering what wish you were going to make. Your face was serious as you thought but broke out into the most beautiful smile. You stood there, coin pressed to your lips, before tossing it out into the fountain. You stared up at him expectantly, waiting for him to make his wish.

He didn’t need to stop and think about his wish. He knew what his wish was from the day he met you. Following your motions, he pressed the penny to his lips and wished, ‘I wish for a life filled with more wonderful nights like this, with this beautiful woman in my arms’. He tossed the coin in and his hand found its way back into yours.

Without a word, he pulled you back in close to him and resumed leading you around the fountain. After a few moments of peaceful silence, he spoke.

“What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you said, voice teasing as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

“Me too honey, me too.”

As the memory faded, Bucky couldn’t help but let the tears that had been building fall. That night had been so wonderful. You deserve someone who could give you nothing but nights like that, not the heartache he put you through. He closed his eyes and whispered to no one but himself, “You could’ve been the one. You should’ve been the one...”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 276: Our Turn to Save You

Previously on BnHA: In a refreshing change of pace from the usual “the adults refuse to tell the kids anything” shtick, Deku and Kacchan flew around trying to get Tomura’s attention while refusing to explain jack shit to Endeavor! Deku eventually thought to ask Kacchan why he was getting in on this, and Kacchan launched into a two-page Denial Speech which seemed expressly designed to prime him for losing his quirk any fucking second now! Tomura then showed up and the two of them were all “KJSDLFK” but thankfully Gran dove in to rescue them from dying INSTANTANEOUS HORRIBLE DEATHS, and reminded them that there are practically SIX WHOLE GROWN-UPS left who can definitely still fight Tomura and won’t die at all!! And one of those grown-ups is Aizawa! Who’s getting ready to fight Tomura now! Listen Horikoshi you fucker, when I asked for more Aizawa angst and badassery this ISN’T WHAT I –

Today on BnHA: Tomura is all “THIS QUIRK WON’T STOP ME BECAUSE I CAN’T READ” and sort of shrugs it off and continues to kick ass even though his Decay and AFO powers aren’t working. The pros all try to stop him with Endeavor taking the lead, and because THEY ALL SUCK, APPARENTLY, nothing they do is effective in any way whatsoever! Meanwhile Gran dumps Deku and Kacchan off and is all “YOU’LL BE FINE HERE” which is the most ridiculous thing anyone in this manga has ever said, and then pretty much as soon as he says it at least nine more High Ends (excuse me, NEARLY High Ends) just POP UP OUT OF NOWHERE and are all “RARR” and the heroes are all “oh shit” and Tomura is all “lol yeah I actually had more High Ends this whole time” and Ujiko is all “it’s true!” and, fuck. The chapter ends with Tomura charging in to kill Aizawa only to be intercepted by MY TWO PRECIOUS BABIES, MY DARLING LITTLE HERO HATCHLINGS, and...!! I blame Gran for this.

gotta say, my sense of time is distorted enough as it is these days without chapter leaks coming out A WHOLE ENTIRE DAY EARLY out of nowhere. not that I’m complaining, because I want to see Aizawa kick some ass & immediately lose his fucking quirk as much as anyone, but it is disorienting

anyway time to dive into this chapter which I predict will be titled “everything instantly goes horribly wrong.” I’ve had a lot of time these past two weeks to think about what is going to happen next, and I’m pretty sure I nailed it you guys

so we’re opening with a familiar sight

I like that Horikoshi thinks that helicopters go “chop chop.” well, close enough

anyway, so yet again we have a scene in BnHA of a town in the process of being destroyed by villains while a helicopter whirs (WHIRS, Horikoshi) and chuffs (SOMETIMES THEY CHUFF TOO) anxiously nearby. I wonder if this helicopter is going to fucking disintegrate. that’d be something new

ARE YOU GOING TO DIE, MISTER LIVE REPORTER SIR. OH MAN. OH GOD I’M ANXIOUS

dozens, you guys! there are dozens of them left! not to worry then. the good guys definitely still got this

oh hey it’s that news anchor with the cutely fucked-up backstory of chopping off his own horn so as to more handsomely report the news

oh god don’t tell me this whole thing is going to be broadcast live. that’s all we fucking need right now. I wonder what’s going to throw society into chaos more, the reveal of just how powerful Tomura is now, or the exposure of what the government-mandated child soldiers get to do during their super-educational practical on-the-job training! no coffee-fetching for these kiddos! we’ve got ‘em rolling up their sleeves and getting their hands good and dirty!

oh hey and it looks like this means that All Might will get to watch protege #2 lose his quirk live on TV -- HEY WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

BAD BABYSITTER!! MY GOD MAN, I KNOW YOU’RE THE INDULGENT GRANDFATHER TYPE, BUT MAYBE CONSIDER CHANGING THE CHANNEL TO DOC MCSTUFFINS FOR THE TIME BEING??!

also I know this is just a perspective thing probably but lmao his hand on her shoulder is fucking huge. All Might you been working out again

but seriously this is not good for either of them to witness. they don’t need more trauma in their lives! All Might doesn’t need yet another thing to blame himself over! and he has conflicted feelings about Tomura still on top of that which I’m sure isn’t going to make this any easier. ANGST ALL AROUND. EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK, EVERYWHERE YOU GOOOO

MOTHERFUCKER I --

is Mitsuki looking at fucking baby pictures of Kacchan. reliving the memories of the good old days, thinking about how far her baby boy has come and how proud she is. that’s just great you guys. that’s just fucking great. these aren’t even red flags at this point these are red fucking tapestries

(ETA: and this basically goes without saying, but I’m sure the fact that not one but THREE Todorokis are represented in this little montage means that Endeavor and Shouto are also going to be just fine.)

HE’S SO HAPPY just fucking try and tell me he doesn’t have a mental fucking link to Tomura and Deku you guys. this bitch knows exactly what is going down right now and he is LIVING FOR IT. that does it. someone please save my spot in the chapter for me I am going to go take a quick walk to calm down

and of COURSE that’s a fucking lie though, god -- [frantically clicks to next page]

LOL HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS

FUCKING MANUAL IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY LMAO. YOU CAN ALL FUCKING RELAX NOW. and fuck me, I’m so fucking happy RockLockRock is still alive as well but WHY ARE YOU STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO AIZAWA IN WHAT I LIKE TO CALL THE “CAUTION: YOU WILL GET SHOT” ZONE. swear to god Horikoshi THAT MAN HAS A FAMILY don’t you even think about -- !!

sigh, anyway so then the rest of the page is panels of Gran & The Boys, Endeavor, and Tomura, along with the text “WHICH SIDE IS THE VICTOR”, which is not helping matters any! also the title of the chapter is “Cheating” which I assume is a reference to both the erasure of Tomura’s quirk, and the soon-to-happen permanent removal of Aizawa’s. I’m just an optimist like that

oh hey and Tomura’s sending out some quick orders to his squad as well

and to think this homicidal maniac is in my top ten favorite characters. sob. I do love you kiddo so please don’t take it personally that I have to unequivocally root against you here. maybe if you listened to me once in a while and would even just consider my radical alternate plan of not killing anyone in sight

anyway lol but here everyone including myself thought he was going straight for the bullets and instead he was pulling out his phone. shows what we know. [braces myself for the follow-up panel of him putting the phone away again and THEN reaching for the bullets!!]

meanwhile we’re being introduced to some new sidekick of Endeavor’s who’s probably going to set the record for shortest time in between being introduced and dying horribly. sorry Kido. I’m just jaded

don’t mind me I’m just putting up emotional walls in between myself and any new lovable characters as a means of self-preservation. mmhmm. he can manipulate the trajectory of things. that’s nice. he seems nice. wouldn’t that be a nice quirk for Tomura to steal and then trajector a bullet straight towards Aizawa ffffff

(ETA: watch this space, everyone. Endeavor’s Sidekick Kido. gonna fuck everything up for everyone, mark my words.)

so I can’t help but notice that now that Tomura can’t use his quirk anymore and is helpless, they have all decided to just sit around doing nothing again?

like. far be it from me to openly wonder why they are not immediately knocking him out or setting him on fire again or whatnot. I am just a lowly civilian. it’s not my job to question these things

(ETA: I must learn to be patient.)

also lmao at Manual saying Aizawa’s ankle is “twisted”, similar to how Deku is constantly “twisting” all of his arms and legs all the time. or did he mean “twisted” in the sense that his leg was pretty much literally wrung out like a fucking towel

anyway so Manual is waterbending liquid into Aizawa’s eyes like that’s supposed to help him NOT close them

has Horikoshi ever had water splashed into his fucking eyes. he and I have had very different experiences as to the effects of this apparently

there we go!!

at least someone out here is fucking trying. for a second there I was honestly worried we were going to see a repeat of “oh well he seems dead enough, let’s just leave, see you at the victory party this weekend, X-Less”

LMAO WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE

[GRABS THESE PANELS AND WAVES THEM IN FRONT OF THE UNCONSCIOUS HAWKS] DID YOU HEAR THAT. DO YOU SEE THAT, BOYO. FACTS. BEING WEAK TO FIRE IS, IN FACT, 100 PERCENT A CHOICE. IF YOU HAD JUST DONE MORE PUSH-UPS AND TRAINED HARDER YOU WOULDN’T BE IN THIS SITUATION RIGHT NOW. SMDH. YOU FUCKING WIMP. YOU RECREANT. YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED

hooooh man. hokay. whew. has anyone seen my suspension of disbelief. I’m so used to having it on me at all times when I read this manga that I must have let my guard down and now it seems I’ve spaced it out. well we’ll just keep a lookout for it

so now we’re cutting to Ujiko who is gleefully bragging that Tomura’s strength is on par with All Might Prime’s, which is just great. and now he’s also starting this sentence and then just... not... finishing it

that’s fine. you just trail off, then. hang those implications. whatever dude

meanwhile RLR and Manny are helping Aizawa limp away while he awkwardly has to twist his neck around to be able to still keep Tomura in his line of sight. I feel like there was probably a better way for them to do this but whatever

anyway thanks for confirming that Ujiko did make Tomura into a Noumu in addition to giving him AFO, though, Horikoshi! that’s very nice of you to unsink one of my theories like that. appreciate it

and hold up, so it occurs to me that “Being Fireproof” could still be a quirk, but just a mutant-type quirk rather than an activation type, meaning that Erasure would have no effect on it! aha! oh, there’s my suspension of disbelief lol it was in my pocket the whole time!!

anyway so Endeavor and Tomura are tussling but I really wish they’d be more careful because if Tomura is still capable of super strength and super speed then he could propel himself out of Aizawa’s line of sight really easily and I feel like this isn’t really helping

is it just me or do they look like they’re TRYING to jump in between Aizawa and Tomura, like?!?! GUYS

LMAO now Gran is just

SHUP. toss. dusts off hands. well that takes care of that

and apparently he’s under the genuine impression that a mere “now stay put you dumdums” is going to have any effect on these two whatsoever. lol okay. we’ll see

anyways YESSSSS, KACCHAN MEET GRAN, GRAN, KACCHAN

meanwhile Kacchan falls silent as he mentally tries to work out who tf “Toshinori” is lmao. I’M SO CHUFFED ABOUT THIS. YES THAT’S ANOTHER USE OF THE WORD “CHUFFED.” VERY VERSATILE AND REMINISCENT OF HELICOPTER BLADES WHIRLING

and now here’s a convenient map showing how far away Deku and Kacchan are from safety!

thanks for that. that’s so reassuring to have this nifty little visual

OH MY GOD GRAN

DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING DIE?? DOES EVERYONE IN THIS FUCKING ARC HAVE A DEATH WISH. MY GOD

“BUT FAR BE IT FROM ME TO LEAVE WITHOUT ANY OMINOUS FORESHADOWING!!” NO INDEED WE CAN’T HAVE THAT!!!

rather than focus anymore on how goddamn foreboding that is, I would instead like to take this moment to call attention to the fact that Gran apparently knows Bakugou’s name but not Present Mic’s. that’s amazing

sob

what good indeed. imagine if they couldn’t even do that. I imagine that would have some far-reaching consequences which might even be interesting to explore as part of a story

I made the same face as them just now fyi

fucking Schrodinger’s High Ends. they only exist when the plot says it’s convenient for them to exist. maybe they’re like fairies and if you say you don’t believe in them they drop dead. where the fuck did these things actually come from?!

WAY TO DROP THE BOYS OFF IN THE MIDDLE OF NOUMU FUCKING CENTRAL MY GOOD MAN. MAYBE WE SHOULD SCROLL BACK UP AND UPDATE THAT MAP. GOOD JOB LMAO

WHAT THE FUCK

welp. they deleted Tomura’s quirk and then sent the strongest guy they had after him, annnnnnnd he went and beat him anyway in like two fucking seconds. so that’s. ... wowee. ...so do we have a plan b, or...

like, holy shit though?? and can you imagine the kind of psychological impact this is having on everyone watching this live on TV right now?? this is literally the anti-Kamino. holy fucking shit. also did Tomura lose an arm or am I just not understanding this image right?? NOT THAT IT SEEMS TO BE BOTHERING HIM IN THE SLIGHTEST??

(ETA: somehow I missed the fact that he is even calling attention to it lol. “I’ll raise [the other hand] when it’s back.” fucking look at Mr. Transcendent here who’s so powerful that when you tear his arms off all it does is make him more sassy. is he secretly related to Mirko.)

idk guys I really think my original chapter title was better

at least Endeavor isn’t fucking dead just yet. four more pages and you might actually make it out of this chapter alive my good man

blah blah blah flashback to Ujiko explaining that the Noumu could be activated by an electric current flowing through them, and that they’re programmed to move only on Tomura’s orders. you know. just more good news

oh hey but at least these ones are mindless so I guess it’s okay for the kids to kick their asses without feeling too conflicted. it’s just too bad “their strength is higher quality than the others” but you win some, you lose some

OH GOOD, THEY’RE GOING STRAIGHT FOR AIZAWA

I’M SURE THAT MIDORIYA “MY BODY MOVED BEFORE I COULD THINK” IZUKU AND BAKUGOU “I’M THE ONE WHO’LL GET PAYBACK FOR THAT DAY” KATSUKI WILL TAKE THEIR GRANDPA’S SAGE ADVICE AND GO AND HIDE WHILE THEIR TEACHER IS IN DANGER. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY’VE LITERALLY GONE TO SCHOOL FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR EXPLICITLY MAJORING IN NOT DOING THAT. YES THIS IS FINE THIS IS FUCKING FINE AND GREAT

NOW WHAT’S HAPPENING THERE’S LOTS OF RUBBLE FALLING AROUND AND STUFF MOVING AND SOMEONE IS TALKING

OH IT’S HIM

excuse me. EXCUSE ME. no, you are NOT. going to fucking die, Aizawa Shouta. HORIKOSHI KOUHEI!!! YOU’RE UNDER ARREST FOR THE CRIME OF DRAWING THIS FUCKING PANEL. THIS ONE, RIGHT HERE. YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING. HOW DARE YOU. how FUCKING dare you sir

and if anything happens to RLR I SWEAR TO GOD!! you know what?! you know what?!?

STOP IT

[sitting curled up into a little ball with my knees drawn up to my chest, drawing little finger circles on the floor] I see. so he’s not even concerned about himself at all. it’s his two tiny little hero eggs, his problem children, and the fact that if he dies here there won’t be anything preventing Tomura from finding and killing them. ahh. okay. it’s okay. that’s fine

and goddammit what is he pulling out from his belt. everyone is on the same page here, right? Aizawa’s Not Allowed To Die. that was the deal. WHAT HAS THIS ALL BEEN FOR OTHERWISE

(ETA: yeah but he seriously did just pull a knife out of fucking nowhere though like the kid in that fucking vine lmao. APPARENTLY HE’S HAD IT THIS ENTIRE TIME?? “what if I just stabbed him” lulz. based on the way things were trending, I’m willing to bet it would have literally bounced off of Tomura’s chest at this point, but I’ll give him credit for making the effort.)

NOPE NOPE NOPE NO

(ETA: Shinsou being in the bottom corner... ;_; )

is anyone listening to me!??! I’m over here screaming myself fucking hoarse??! AIZAWA ISN’T FUCKING ALLOWED TO DIE??!! HELLO!?!?!

lol well at least RLR didn’t get steamrolled over

well everyone. we’ve reached page 18. one more to go. what are the odds we end with the boys arriving in the ta-da nick of time to defend their teacher. just who is watching over whom

THERE IT IS!!!

OH NO OH GOD AM I CRYING??! YOU HAD TO GO AND PUT THOSE FLASHBACK PANELS IN?? HIM SAVING DEKU AND CO. AT USJ, PLUS THAT ONE TIME HE DEFENDED BAKUGOU DURING HIS MOST VULNERABLE MOMENT IN FRONT OF A NATIONAL AUDIENCE??? “IT’S OUR TURN TO SAVE YOU”???

and they look so determined and desperate?? and the “Aizawa-sensei!” echoing in both their minds?? and meanwhile Aizawa looks fucking horrified though, because of all the... [gestures] you know? the Terrible Danger?? sob??

anyway. I really let this manga do this to me every damn week. let it just have its fucking way with me. at least Horikoshi didn’t end up breaking the law after all. I don’t know if I could continue to support a mangaka who is willing to commit an actual war crime. no touching Aizawa. OKAY?? OKAY

#bnha 276 #aizawa shouta #shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #gran torino #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #so what sound do *you* think helicopters make?#I googled this and found some excellent answers #my favorite one was dubdubdubdubdub #but tocotocotoco was a close second #whop whop whop #batabatabata #wuppa wuppa lmao

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miraculous786 · 4 years

Text

The Protector’s End

Masterlist

"The paparazzi are going to have a field day with this."

Dick turned to who had spoken, only to see Tim holding a camera out to capture what was in front of him. There, only a few metres opposite them both, were three teens, all with their eyes closed as an indication of their slumber.

They were on a wide wooden bench, and were positioned in such a way that had Marinette laying across both Damian and Felix's laps as they also leaned on one another by the shoulders.

Tim clicked a quick photo. His older brother watched as he began to type something out on his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a Tweet."

"Wait, really?" he asked. "I don't think Baby Bird would want us to out his relationship like that."

Jason snorted from behind them. "What relationship? As far as they're aware, theirs is completely platonic."

"...Seriously? But, but they cuddle all day! There's no way they could be that oblivious."

"Oh, they are."

The siblings all tilted their heads down to Adrien, who had dryly commented the words. His features had an expression that could best be described as done with the world.

"Hey, squirt. How's it going?"

"Great!" the model enthused. "Aunt Selina and Bruce are talking about some French partnership, and so I decided to come here instead."

Dick gained a nervous look. "Oh, really? Geez, that sounds boring. So boring, in fact, that there is no need to wonder which French company they're gonna expose after partnering up with them!"

"Way to be subtle, Dickiebird," Jason muttered. "It's not as if he's gonna believ-"

"Yeah, you're right - I never liked business stuff in the first place either. Anyway, I'm gonna go call Kagami and see if she wants to hang out. Later, guys!"

"Later!" the oldest there bid. "And make sure to be home by six!"

"Okay!"

They all watched him stroll out of sight, before turning to face each other. Dick groaned, "Ugh, I hate Gabriel Agreste..."

"That makes two of us."

Marinette's eyes glimmered in amusement as she watched the boys rush to act like they weren't startled by her presence. Behind her, Damian and Felix were stood with blank looks.

"I know what you're planning~" she recited in a sing-song tone.

"W-What? As if you do, Pixie! It, it was supposed to be a secret!"

"Well..." the baker drawled, hand poised at her chin. "I want in."

Jason blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. I want in to smash Gabriel Agreste to the ground for hurting Adrien."

"Mari, are you sure?" Dick quizzed, then elaborated, "Cause what we're going to do will probably hurt Adrien a lot. I don't want him to blame you for anything."

"Listen, guys," she began to explain. "We're doing what's best for him. I mean, if I was living under the same roof as a terrorist, I would want to get out of there as fast as possible. Wouldn't you?"

There was a chorus of nods.

"Besides...me and Adrien have already talked about suing Gabriel for child neglect, but couldn't get around to it. He was deadset on it, trust me. I'm sure if he learnt that we're exposing him just like he planned to before, he wouldn't be mad."

"Yeah, but...outing his own father as Hawk Moth too? Surely the backlash would hurt him a lot, right?"

Marinette scoffed. "Backlash? Please, as if there'll be anyone left to hurt my Kitty after me and a few other vigilantes have dealt with them."

"Great minds think alike, Pixie-Pop," Jason piped up with a grin.

Damian rolled his eyes at the joke, yet blushed when Felix give him a silent, knowing look.

"Oh, Tim, I forgot to tell you something! I've started making the suit that you commissioned a few days ago."

She was met with silence.

"Tim?"

He didn't lose his wide eyes or shocked face. He only mumbled something beneath his breath.

"What?"

"Adrien's meeting up with someone..." he repeated again at a quiet pitch.

"Yeah..." Dick agreed, confused. "And...?"

"Adrien's meeting up with a girl..."

There was a moment without anyone speaking.

"What?"

"Timbers, call Bruce to be quick signing those adoption papers, now!"

"Guys, nO-"

They ignored Marinette's protests, and instead sped off with their phones out, leaving her to sigh in frustration. However, the two chuckles and arms that wrapped around her waist and shoulders made her squeak and blush, annoyance completely forgotten.

~*~*~

"Adrien, stoooooopp..." Marinette whined.

The blond's only response was to hug her tighter, and increase the volume of his purrs. They could be heard all around them, and soon became the only noise in the room.

"You deserve some rest after that fight, Bug."

"No," she denied with a pout. "I want to celebrate with everyone else."

Adrien let out a sigh. He closed his eyes and rumbled again, yet this time let the purrs out in strong waves that made his friend's eyelids relax. She weakly attempted to push him back, but he simply chuckled and placed her hand to the side.

"I hate you," she mumbled, just before drifting off into slumber.

"I love you too~"

He grinned as he watched her breathing settle, then glanced to the door leading out. With a smile, he settled a few soft blankets over her form - which she cuddled into contentedly - and made his way to the exit.

"Is she sleeping?"

"Yup."

"...I assumed that you were bluffing about having a method of getting her to rest."

"Nope. The purrs work every time."

Damian rose a brow, choosing to nod instead of questioning his judgement. "Her class is estimated to come within the next few minutes. I suggest we make our way down now."

The teen reached out to hold Felix's hand, as he sauntered to the elevator at the end of the hallway. They were currently in the Mayor's hotel, thanks to the wealth and money of Bruce Wayne himself.

"Hey...can I ask you guys a question?" Adrien asked, just as he pressed the button leading to the ground floor.

Two heads nodded at him to carry on.

"Your nicknames are 'Star' and 'Moon', right?" he started, not noticing them flush slightly. "Why isn't Marinette called something like 'Sun' or 'Sunshine'?"

Felix's lips twitched up. "Marinette herself went against the idea because of you, Adrien. She told us that she viewed you as the Sun, and that no one could compare."

The elevator dinged, breaking him out of his thoughts as metal doors slid open. The sight in front of him made him groan.

Dozens of reporters were crowded about the hotel lobby, microphones out and notepads drawn. Cameras were pointed at not only them but the entrance of the place, where a group of classmates suddenly entered.

Alya, who had been the first to come in, made eye contact with the couple ahead. She watched in confusion as people swarmed about them both, though particularly around the one with black hair.

Felix held an arm out, that soon became intertwined with Damian's.

"Ready to avenge, my Star?"

Damian's mouth twisted into a small grin. "Anything for you and our Angel, my Moon."

The crowd went wild.

~*~*~

And we’ve reached the end! :D Thank you to @freshbark for creating the request that started this all!

@thestressmademedoit @moonystars14 @northernbluetongue @luciferge @ranger-gothamite @toodaloo-kangaroo @freshbark @drama-queen-supreme @gwennex @captainmac6 @virgil-is-a-cutie @aurordraws @maribat-is-lifeblood @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @hauntedwintersweets @emo-elaine13 @bleeding-heart-romantic @write-for-your-life2 @palvine-of-the-alvins @schrodingers25 @mariae2900 @vivilakitty @thyladyanput @2sunchild2 @kittyanonymity @bee-wrecker @soupfilledboots @queenmj10 @i-will-be-your-ace @darkthunder1589 @silvergold-swirl

#dc x mlb #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x miraculous #maribat #maridami #daminette #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #felinette #damifelinette #damikuma #ml salt #alya salt #Lila exposed #marinette x damian x felix #adribat

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kittinoir · 3 years

Note

for the writing prompts, marichat for #16?

Hi hi! Sorry this took SO long - in more than one way! I got this request some time ago, and then it actually took me over three weeks to start and finish. I hope it’s worth the wait <3

#16: ‘Not them, anyone but them!’

Chat Noir smirked as he extended his baton and vaulted over the illusory maze walls Volpina had created. Not a bad tactic, but an ineffective one once he’d discovered the ruse. Still, he could practically hear his lady’s voice in his head, if not beside him - she had yet to arrive.

Don’t get too cocky, Chat Noir. She can use her powers as many times she wants. We only get one shot.

It didn’t help that Volpina’s powers had been ‘upgraded’ by Hawk Moth; it didn’t matter whether it was real or fake, if Volpina created it, the illusion took on a life of its’ own and could no longer simply dissipate like smoke when struck. It was actually annoyingly similar to Mayura’s ability, with fewer steps.

Chat Noir analyzed the maze on the way back down from his vault. The maze had sprung up in the city all of a sudden, the walls so tall they were impossible to climb. Of course, even twenty foot walls were no match for him. He’d never actually been able to find the limit on how far his baton would extend, but he’d certainly pushed it further than this. Slowed down, maybe, but contained? Never.

Now if she’d thought to enclose the corridors, that would be another matter.

But instead of handing her the idea by vaulting right to the middle of the maze - where else would she be? - he touched down a few rows over. His instincts were screaming at him to drop in on her, but he knew better than to follow them. That had been how he’d started it out, and also how he’d usually gotten his tail handed to him. No, if he wanted to win, he’d need the element of surprise - even if it meant going solo. Maybe Ladybug was the only one who could purify akuma’s, but it would be nice if he had Volpina subdued when she arrived. Like a little present.

Chat Noir crept closer, making sure his bell didn’t chime as he did. He took a deep breath before daring to peek around the corner of the final hedge, baton at the ready just in case he was unlucky and Volpina was facing him.

But she wasn’t. She didn’t even seem to be waiting anxiously for him and Ladybug to drop in on her. In fact, she seemed…distracted?

“…so pathetic,” he heard her say, her back to him as she idly twirled her flute. “Of course, don’t go thinking any of this was for you. It’s just a nice little bonus that you stumbled in here. But stumbling’s what you do best, isn’t it, Marinette?”

Chat Noir felt his heart stop dead in his chest. He must have heard her wrong - but his Miraculous enhanced hearing was never wrong. And if it was never wrong, then Volpina must be talking to…

“You’ll never get away with this.” Whoa, he’d never heard his usually-sweet friend sound so…venomous. “Ladybug and Chat Noir will stop you - again.”

Chat Noir bit his lip as he snuck another look around the hedge. Part of him wanted to warn Marinette not to bait this girl, to tell her that she’d once set Ladybug up to be destroyed by Hawk Moth and nearly succeeded, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying listening to Marinette tell her off.

Of course, a hostage did put a wrench in his plans. He had no problem going toe-to-toe with Volpina, but with a civilian - with Marinette - directly in the line of fire, it was safer to wait. Ladybug’s Lucky Charm could fix any damage, but only if she transformed in time, and she had yet to arrive.

“I’d like to see Bug Eyes and Alley Cat try,” Chat Noir heard Volpina say as he drew back to check the GPS on his baton. Maybe one of Volpina’s illusions had his partner tied down. “I wasn’t ready for them the first time, but I’ve learned some new tricks.”

Nothing on the GPS. Either she hadn’t transformed yet, or Volpina and Hawk Moth had already taken his partner out of commission. Either way, he was still flying solo. He needed a new plan, fast.

“That’s the difference between you and them,” Chat Noir heard Marinette retort as he took another look. He could see now that Marinette had indeed stumbled into some kind of trap. Wooden branches had sprung up from the stone, twining around her limbs and keeping her feet just off the ground. They looked brittle enough to snap, but thick enough to be a challenge for the average person. He probably wouldn’t even need his cataclysm to get her out. “They actually have talent and skill - and all you have are tricks.”

“You know, I was going to keep you around for collateral but it’s very quickly becoming not worth it,” Volpina hissed as the flute came to an abrupt halt in her fist. “You never could take a hint. So what do you think it’ll take to make the lesson stick. How do we feel about snakes?”

To her credit, Marinette didn’t even flinch. Those pretty blue eyes of hers just narrowed into a familiar glare. It struck an odd chord in him - Marinette almost never glared. So why did it feel familiar?

“Wasps?” Volpina taunted as she began to circle her prey. “Although I suppose that’s more Chloe’s thing. Hmm. What’s it going to take to get through to you that you are out of your league - that you can’t compete with me and never could.”

Chat Noir scanned the sky line again. Any second now his partner would drop in on them. Any second now. Come on, come on.

“Oh? What!? …I mean. Of course. If you’re sure.”

Chat Noir whipped back to the scene taking place in the centre of the maze. Marinette had finally recoiled, but not from one of Volpina’s illusions or threats, but from the neon purple butterfly outline that had sprung up on her face. He watched it fade as she leaned into Marinette, one hand digging into her shoulder.

“Hawk Moth would like a word with you,” Volpina purred. Chat Noir saw Marinette pale, surely a mirror of his own skin, but she didn’t balk again.

“He can’t.” He barely heard her over the thundering of his own heart as visions of the next few minutes sprang up in his head. Of Marinette, akumatized. He’d had variations of that nightmare before, about all of his friends, but Marinette’s was the only nightmare that hadn’t come true - yet. “Hawk Moth can only akumatize someone overwhelmed by their strong negative emotions, and only one person at a time. Don’t waste your breath on empty threats.”

Right. Marinette was right. Chat Noir’s breathing began to ease - until Volpina laughed.

“Aren’t we the scholar,” she jibed as she resumed her circling. “What’s that thing you’re always telling your little reporter friend? Oh yeah - you should double check your sources.”

Chat Noir’s grip on his baton went white-knuckled. Surely she didn’t mean…couldn’t mean… but it had happened before. Not Hawk Moth, but Scarlet Moth had akumatized several people at once before.

“But I’m…I’m not feeling any strong negative emotion,” Marinette said, but even he could hear the desperation creeping into her voice. “I’m not… I’m…”

“Who’s the liar now, Marinette?” Volpina asked. She paused just behind her captive’s right shoulder and used the end of the flute to tilt Marinette’s face back. “You hate me. You despise me. That’s the dirty little secret you can never get rid of, the violent little flame that won’t go out no matter how much you try.”

Try as she might, Marinette couldn’t move her head or avoid Volpina’s piercing gaze.

He was out of time.

Chat Noir threw his baton like a javelin as hard as he could and sprinted after it, claws at the ready. If he could just free her, Marinette could escape and he could finish Volpina. One akuma was one too many. He didn’t like the odds of two while Ladybug was still in the wind.

“Mirage!”

Chat Noir dropped to the ground, skidding across the stone, hand out to swipe the branches keeping Marinette hostage. He didn’t see the thick glass wall drop into place until he slammed into it.

A thousand and one curses in at least three different languages clamoured over each other in his head as he got his feet back under him and snatched up his baton. Volpina, he discovered, had managed to dodge it, but it did give him the advantage of getting between her and Marinette.

“How nice of you to drop in, Kitty Cat,” Volpina teased. A hardness in her eyes was the only outward sign of her irritation. “Where’s the Bug?”

Chat Noir grinned with bravado he didn’t feel. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Makes no difference to me,” Volpina said, twirling the flute again. “I don’t mind a little one on one time.”

“Chat Noir.” He let an ear flick back to Marinette. He could hear her struggling to no avail. “There’s an akuma coming. I have to get out of here.” Nothing would stop one of Hawk Moth’s creatures.

“I know,” he murmured back, breaking his baton into two pieces for close combat. “Save your breath. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Because now it was just an akuma he was dealing with: it was the very real time-limit the air-tight cage had created.

“Not even you can stop what’s about it happen,” Volpina jeered as the flute came to a halt once again. “Marinette will be akumatized, and then she will help me destroy you, Ladybug, and your precious city.”

“It hardly seems worth it,” Chat Noir said, heart pounding as he played his hand - the only bargaining chip he had left. “When I’m standing right here.”

Even the city seemed to hold its’ breath at that.

“Are you suggesting a trade?” Volpina said at last.

“No.” Marinette’s voice was barely a whisper. He ignored her, and instead, nodded.

“What is it,” Volpina snarled, “That makes even superheroes sacrifice themselves for her. Saint Marinette Dupain-Cheng, lording over the rest of us!”

“It’s a good deal,” Chat Noir insisted, slinging his baton across his shoulders casually. He just had to get Marinette out of Volpina’s way. He would come up with a better plan after that, but step one was rescue the damsel.

“Don’t do this,” Marinette pleaded. “You can’t! You can’t give him your Miraculous!”

Chat Noir risked a glance back at his friend. “I can’t let him akumatize you, either.”

He didn’t have the time to explain that he’d never recover if that particular nightmare came to life, or to put words to the feelings that made him so reckless. All he knew for sure was that, until Ladybug arrived, he would do whatever it took to keep that butterfly from touching her.

“You for Marinette,” Volpina said, clarifying his terms. Chat Noir nodded and angled his hand so his ring flashed in the late afternoon sun, taunting her. “Hardly seems like a fair deal.”

“It is to me,” Chat Noir. He could probably cataclysm the akuma. He was eighty per cent sure it would work. He just had to get it close enough first - and make sure it didn’t have any other possible victim around should he miss. “So what’s it going to be? Me or the Saint?”

“No!” Marinette shouted. He could hear the slight pant in her voice now. “Not him! Anyone but him!”

Chat Noir stiffened at the words, so unlike the girl he knew, but he kept his face clear. The last thing he needed was for Volpina to see how much they affected him and to akumatize her anyway as some kind of twisted punishment.

But they still burrowed into his heart, easily finding a home beside the others words he’d convinced himself didn’t matter: her rooftop confession. He’d thought nothing of them at the time, but they’d evolved into something more the longer he knew the truth of Marinette’s feelings. He didn’t know what to do about them, or what to do about how he felt about it all now - or how his still-undying, unwavering love for Ladybug fit into the whole thing.

So he’d done nothing.

But it now appeared that while his feelings had grown into…something more, Marinette’s hadn’t faded, either.

Volpina’s shrieking laughter once again dragged Chat Noir back to the matter at hand - and Marinette’s dwindling time.

“Don’t tell me you finally got over your crush on Adrien just to fall for this street cat,” she jeered. She might have said more, but Chat Noir didn’t hear it; he was still caught on the first half. He must have heard her wrong. Marinette didn’t have a crush on him. Marinette barely seemed to tolerate him.

Marinette, for her part, hadn’t seemed to hear Volpina at all. “You can’t akumatize Chat Noir,” she insisted. She was gasping now, her cheeks pink with exertion. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.” Her eyes had become unfocused and alarm rose in Chat Noir as he wondered if she was even conscious of what she was chanting.

His hand twitched. He should use his cataclysm to destroy the glass. He didn’t know where Ladybug was. He couldn’t be sure she would make it in time; god knew he’d been caught by a surprise by an akuma before. And so he couldn’t be sure she’d be able to fix whatever damage was done.

“Deal or no deal, Volpina?” Chat Noir demanded. He had seconds to decide.

“Hmm.” Volpina tapped her chin, tilting her head to the side as she considered. And then she smiled. “Deal. You definitely come with more perks. Besides, the look on Marinette’s face when you get akumatized will be much sweeter. Mirage!”

More roots sprung up. Chat Noir barely avoided them the first time, and the second, but the third time, he stumbled. That was all it took for the roots to overtake him, pinning him to the cobblestones.

“We had a deal!” Chat Noir snarled, struggling futilely.

“And I’m just making sure you don’t break it,” Volpina said. She snapped her fingers and the bindings and glass case around Marinette dissolved. “Reality.”

Chat Noir winced as he heard Marinette’s knees strike the stones, but she managed to break her fall somewhat with her hands before collapsing entirely. “Chat Noir…no…”

“Run, Marinette,” he instructed. “Just go. It’ll be ok. Me and Ladybug’ll take care of it.”

“…Ladybug,” Marinette repeated, shoving herself back up. “Right. Thank you, Chat Noir.”

He nodded, about all he could manage as his friend staggered to her feet and broke into a run just as a corrupted butterfly cleared the top of the hedge.

“Pathetic.” Volpina smirked at Marinette’s retreating back. “Does she even know you love her?”

Chat Noir jerked against his bindings. “Love - I don’t love her,” he said, but the words were bitter on his tongue.

“Of course you do,” Volpina laughed. “Why else would you have made the trade? So foolishly lopsided, and for what? One ordinary girl?”

“There’s nothing ordinary about Marinette,” Chat Noir said softly as the sweetest sound he’d heard all day sounded behind him, far away but getting closer: the wire of Ladybug’s yoyo.

“Whatever you say,” Volpina said. She scowled, too enamoured by her empty victory to recognize the sound of her own defeat drawing nearer, instead extending a hand for the akuma to temporarily perch on. “Now where would you like this? Baton? Belt? How about that charming little bell?”

Chat Noir grinned. “Now that I think about it, you’re right: it is a lopsided trade. Cataclysm!”

The branches retraining him dissolved almost immediately. Volpina staggered back, afraid to touch them and experience the destructive power first hand.

Chat Noir got back to his feet, and a back handspring or two put enough distance between him and Volpina that he was out of danger - for the moment.

“At least you’re predictable,” she snarled. She raised the flute to her lips, but before she could play a single note, a familiar red blur knocked the instrument from her hands.

“Sorry I was late,” Ladybug said as she dropped to her partners’ side.

“No harm done,” Chat Noir said. “I kept her busy.”

“I almost feel bad for her,” Ladybug teased. “Exactly how many puns did you subject her to?”

Chat Noir smiled tightly. “Enough.” No need for her to know exactly how reckless he had been. It didn’t matter if the risk had been minimal, if it had been minimal at all. All that mattered now was that victory was in reach.

And any feelings he had for certain dark-haired, blue eyed girls? Well…he would worry that later. He’d saved the damsel. Now it was time to save the day.

“Ready, m’lady?” he asked as Volpina geared up again.

“You have no idea,” Ladybug said with a determined grin of her own. “Let’s go; Lucky Charm!”

#marichat #miraculous #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chat noir #marinette #fic #writing #drabbles

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am-imagines · 4 years

Text

Legendary Pt. 4 Morgan!Reader.

Waiting for the next match is always the worst part. It allows people to wonder, expectations rise and the entire world is watching you like a hawk. It doesn’t matter if you’re in or out of the pitch, they’re ready to catch the wrong moment.

They’re ready to see you fail.

But you’re strong; perhaps stronger than you should be at your age.

You’re mature on the field, you know how to handle the pressure, how to shove aside the noise until it’s only you and the ball. That’s a part of what you bring to this team; temperance and resilience. You keep your head cool and your heart ignited.

No one on the team is afraid to put on the work, to stay behind to polish any and all details. Everyone is ready for one more rep, one more drill, one opportunity to show you deserve to be there. Nothing great has ever been done by giving up, and when all the odds are stacked against you, you’re ready to fight, burn, and come back from the ashes stronger than ever.

“It had to be Japan, uh?” Janice asks while you take a break.

“We can do this.”

“Confident?”

You shrug at the question. You’re confident in your team, although you don’t underestimate your rival. There’s a reason why they made it to the World Cup. Japan has always been a complicated team to play against.

They have discipline, technique and hunger.

But so do you. And you have heart; a burning passion to prove everyone wrong, including the voices lurking in the back of your head telling you to give up.

However, they’re not loud enough to silence the voice of your mom, Kelley, and Pinoe or every single member of your team, your family and friends. They’re your motivation, and you won’t let them down. You won’t let yourself down.

You’re confident this team has what it takes.

You know that you’ll leave everything you got on the pitch. You trust the rest of the team to do the same; push until the last second and until there’s nothing else to give. You’re willing to play your heart out, no matter if your every bone hurts at the end of the match.

“I’m confident, but not cocky. We have a great team, and we’re doing this right. We have to keep doing that, one pass at a time.”

“If that’s the case, then I hope you’re ready. There’s one more scrimmage to go.”

You groan when Janice pulls you back to your feet although the grin is clear on your face.

“I’m not on your team,” you mutter as you follow her back to the others.

“Picking the losing team, Y/n. I expected better from you.”

*****

Technically, you knew that playing every game wasn’t ideal or optimal for your body.

You’re happy some of your teammates are getting minutes, putting their names out there and giving their all for the same cause. Still, that doesn’t mean you enjoy the bench.

Even before the game starts, you pace the length of the bench. You keep doing so until the teams jump into the field for the National Anthems. Those minutes serve you as a pause before Pinoe finally guides you back to the bench and pushes you to take a seat.

“The final fixture of the group phase is here! And what a match it is. I think we can all agree that not having Morgan in the line-up is a surprise. We don’t know of any injuries, and that brings up the question; what’s the plan for today?”

“If there’s nothing stopping Y/n from playing, she should be on the field. Japan is not an easy match, and maybe this is a sign of overconfidence from the USWNT. Their group is close; a win will let them advance as leaders. A tie can put them in problems. Losing here might send them home despite the good results in previous matches.”

“There’s only one way to find out. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for some soccer!”

No one enjoys watching the game from the bench, but it’s truly a different experience than seeing it in front of a tv screen or even from being in the crowd. It’s one of those odd sensations when you know you’re part of the game as a whole even if you’re not part of the starting lineup.

Pinoe talks you through the finer details of the game; she helps you grow even when you’re watching from the sideline. Sonnet and her see you as the Maverick, you can change a game with your abilities. You find the spaces that no one else does, you think with or without the ball at your feet, you’re a smart player in every sense of the world.

Sure, that might remind some people of Alex, but you’re good not because of her.

You have a passion for the sport that was born from her. After all, it’s hard not to love something your mom was so passionate about. She taught you discipline, but passion? That can’t be taught.

You listen intently to Pinoe while Sonnett guides the players on the field. Then, they switch positions and you have another world to learn from Emily’s perspective.

“Whatever happens, you’ll enter for the last twenty minutes, okay?” Emily asks patting your shoulder with the glint of a proud smile on her face.

“Yes, coach.”

Not being able to play every minute is also a part of the game. This is not just any tournament. This is the world cup; long and hard with little time to rest between matches. It’s an exhausting process, not just for your body but for your mind.

The expectations of the whole nation, hell, maybe the entire world rests on the shoulders of twenty four players. It’s a whole lot of pressure for all players; the ones that played the last World Cup, and the young ones that want to change the world.

This match, specifically, is a lesson.

You already know how to move on the field with the ball at your mercy, and you know how to move to create space for you or others. Now, Pinoe and Sonnett are teaching you how to improve your game even when you’re not playing.

They want you to be better. From being an amazing player, to being a world champion.

World Cups aren’t just won on the field. Every single moment counts, and when the first goal finally arrives, you cheer for your teammates with everything you have.

“That’s the end of the first half! It’s been a rocky game so far. Japan is a very physical game, they have speed, and a lot of talent on their ranks. But I think we’re seeing a USWNT that knows how to play each match. Even without Y/n on the field, they were able to score. I see potential on this team, but will it be enough to win it all?”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’s still forty-five minutes to go, and several matches on this World Cup if they want to do something really meaningful. There’s a long road ahead if they wanna be anything like the Golden Team.”

“Intense game, uh?” You ask Krash once you’re in the locker room.

“You seem awfully chirpy for someone that is on the bench.”

“Hey!” You protest. “What’s the use of being grumpy? I’d still be on the bench.”

“I heard you’re having playing time at some point.”

“See? An extra reason to avoid all kinds of grumpiness. And between us?” You ask with a mocking conspiratorial tone. “I’m confident there’ll be another match. We got the best team in the world.”

“Hell yeah, we do!” Janice shouts from behind you.

Soon the entire team goes into a bundle, and you break apart after a cheer.

You feel it then, the heart of this team. The passion within you, they all feel it. The drive for victory, the hunger for it. There’s dedication and sweat, even blood.

The USA had to wait a long time for a team like this; with big dreams, with high hopes and with steady feet to walk steadily towards the top. But this group of women raising their hands in unison, this family found through soccer, they’re ready.

And so are you.

“Go kill it out there,” you tell Krash and O’Hara.

“You know it.”

*****

Going back to the bench brings up your nervousness again, but as soon as Pinoe notices, she sends you to warm up. It’s the best use of your anxious energy, so you nod before putting on the fluorescent vest.

A switch is flipped and suddenly you’re in beast mode.

You focus on warm ups and yet are hyper aware of everything else going on around you. You hear people cheering for the team and those that are the opposite. You hear your teammates calling for the ball once the match resumes. You hear Sonnett shouting instructions behind you and when the rest of the bench comes out to join you.

You take everything in, let it fuel your passion even more.

“You got this, Y/n!”

Alex’s voice cuts through the crowd and you smile despite yourself. There, in the second row right next to the bench, your mother cheers you on. Her words give you any and all courage needed as you intensify your warm up.

The time for you to enter is closer by the second and you’re prepared to face anything Japan throws your way. The magic of playing the biggest tournament in the world is still pretty much there. Even with all the pressure and expectations, this is the best thing in the world.

“Let’s do this,” you whisper to yourself once you’re finally in.

“Morgan has entered the game. What can she do with limited time?”

The team keeps the lead, but you’re there to push the tempo. You don’t let Japan feel comfortable; they’re starting to feel tired while your legs are fresh. As impatient as you can be on the bench, you know how to wait on the field and what to wait for.

You recognize the few chances to make a move, break their defense, slip past their lines and take a long distance shot with all the technique learned from your mother. You only have one instant to get the ball through, but it’s the one you’ve been waiting for.

Right then your name isn’t what truly matters. However, your ability on the field does, it speaks for itself and leaves no doubt as to why you’re in the National Team.

Soccer is your element, your passion. You live it. You breathe it. And you make it change as needed. You have the ability to bend it to your will to benefit you and the team you represent.

Certainly, you’re one of the youngest players on the current roster, but it’s obvious there’s something different about you. There’s something in you more than talent and passion; you have dedication, discipline, hunger and more.

Of course, there’s still a lot for you to learn. Which means nothing when you learn as fast as you do.

Your energy drives the team forward, makes them try even when the score is against you. More importantly, you push them to be their best selves even when the match is won. You move around in the field and it’s almost like magic, not just of what you do with the ball at your feet either. The whole team follows your lead even when Krash wears the captain armband.

She has the experience and voice, and yet, you are the drive of the team.

At the time, 78th minute, your shot slices through the defense and can’t be stopped by anyone, not even the goalkeeper.

“That’s a goal! And what a goal it was. A magnificent shot from Morgan that could simply not be stopped.”

“She had the space, the time and she didn’t waste it. With only fifteen minutes to play, I feel that this team is a bit closer to being group leaders.”

“What will this mean for them?”

“In the big picture? Little. But it’s a better chance facing the next round. They have some big names, and they got some big results. However, for a team with so much story as the USWNT, nothing but the title of Champions can be considered a Victory.”

“Do you think they have what it’s needed?”

“...Maybe.”

The ref blows the end of the match and you hurry to celebrate with your team; hugging each other with glee. You made it further than in the last World Cup, and that deserves a little celebration.

It feels good to get some of the results you’ve been looking for although there’s still a long way ahead. Still, enjoying each victory is not really that bad as long as you keep your eyes on the ultimate goal and don’t stop moving forward.

Before you follow the team back into the tunnel, you walk towards Alex.

She waits for you with a smile and hugs you tightly once you’re within reach. It’s a bit awkward considering the barrier still in between, but you couldn’t care less about that at the moment. You hug her with as much fervor as she does and laugh breathlessly.

“We made it through, mom!” You say excitedly.

“You did a fantastic job. All of you. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“But you will,” you counter with a smile. “After the next game.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, returning your smile. “I will.”

That’s the thing with her, she always finds another reason to be prouder of you. It doesn’t matter if the next game doesn’t end as you wish, you’re her daughter and she will always be proud of you. She has been there through the good and the bad. She cheers through your every victory. She helps you back to your feet after a defeat. She’s the reason you won’t give up, you’ll push as hard as possible and hope that positive inertia carries you all the way to the final.

You’re pretty sure that the only thing better than playing in a World Cup is actually lifting the trophy. That moment is far beyond the limits of your imagination; something you have to live and feel.

However, the way Alex looks at you makes you wonder if watching you play is higher in her list of memorable instances. After another hug and the kiss she places on your temple, you decide it has to be up there.

*****

“Today was a great match. You managed to score a goal even with limited time on the field. Were you trying to prove a point to the coaching staff?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to truly understand what they’re asking you.

The press has a twisted perspective and won’t hesitate to bend and warp your words to fit their narrative. Dealing with them can be exhausting, but it’s not something you can’t do. Not when you’re still riding the high of that game against Japan.

“No, not at all. This is the World Cup. It’s a demanding tournament and we know everyone will get playing time. Like you said, the team did great out there not just today but we found our ground in every match. Some of us were lucky enough to have more minutes on the group phase, but there’s no point to prove. Everyone that is here deserves to be here. I just gave my everything in those few minutes because that’s what you gotta do to advance.”

“Advance you did. Congratulations. We’ll let you go back to your team now.”

With a smile to the cameras and a wave, you make your way down the tunnel and to the locker room where half the team is already changed.

“Alright, girls!” Pinoe calls for everyone’s attention. “I want all of you to take this moment in. Enjoy it for a bit but don’t let it get to your heads. Tomorrow we focus on our next goal.”

“Winning the world cup,” Janice states as she sits beside you.

“One match at a time,” you reply with a nod.

#legendary #fluff route #morgan!reader #BabyMorgan!reader #next generation #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan imagines

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direnightshade · 3 years

Text

Steve

“Knock! Knock! Knock!”

This is the only warning that I get before the quiet of my office space is invaded by the far too loud, too intrusive presence of the man who steps in past the threshold with a smile that I decide, upon immediate judgement, that I do not like.

“The rumor mill was in full force this morning with word that we had a newcomer in the office. I just had to come and see for myself.”

Still seated behind my desk, I take a moment to assess the man as he moves further into my office. He is airing on the shorter side, perhaps only a little taller than myself, with dusty blonde hair and a freshly shaved face. The black slacks that he wears are nicely pressed and the light blue button down’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. I also note that he is lacking a tie.

He steps even closer with his hand extended out in greeting, and now I find that I must do the polite thing and rise up from my seat to do the same. “Steve,” he says. “I’m the Copy Editor.” In return, I introduce myself and take my seat again, but not before he pipes up with a most obvious observation.

“That’s Mrs. Barber, is it?”

“It is.” My response is accompanied by the lifting of a single brow and not even a hint of a smile though Steve, on the other hand, is all teeth.

“Word around the water cooler is that your husband was a hot shot play director back in the Big Apple. Any merit to that? I fancy myself a bit of a theater snob, myself.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower not to allow my inner annoyance to show like the world’s worst poker face. I have barely been in this office for a full day and already I find myself severely missing the privacy afforded to me by my colleagues back in New York. Whatever happened to the rude attitude this area of the nation is so notorious for? And more importantly, why is he so goddamn friendly?

“Well, you’re in the wrong city for that, I’m afraid,” I fire back with a rather solid attempt at overplaying the friendliness to mirror his own.

This move, I will come to find, is a grave mistake.

The sun rises on a new week, and though I have only been in the West Coast office for a little over a month, these last couple of weeks have already begun with a sudden shift in our operations. Now I am no longer working from an office building downtown, and instead have set up shop in the home office that you have so meticulously set up for the two of us.

Beside me, with your desk pressed right up against mine, you are seated in front of your own computer, reading this morning’s news whilst you nurse your first cup of coffee with one hand and have the other placed gently against my stomach. I know that in only a few short minutes you will be rather irritated with the fact that your reading will be disturbed by what will be the first of my many Zoom meetings, but for now, the house is filled with a peaceful silence and we are basking in the calming presence of one another.

By the time that I have joined the myriad of familiar faces on my computer screen for our virtual meeting, the tea that you have fetched me earlier in the morning has been half consumed, the remainder of it now resting cold in the mug that sits nearby. You are already well underway with whatever masterpiece you have begun to craft, though it is not lost on me how your fingers seem to slow and then stall altogether when the sound of one coworker in particular rises up from the rest.

“Well, well, well. Look who looks fully rested and ready to take on the day. You look absolutely radiant.” Steve’s grin practically stretches from ear to ear, though all I can muster is a pleasant, but small smile in return. “Did you get that meme I texted you? The one with the dog?”

Out of my periphery, I can see how your left hand curls into a fist, and I don’t even have to look at you to know that your jaw is working overtime, teeth undoubtedly grinding with the agitation that I can practically feel radiating off of you in droves.

“I did,” I reply, soft, polite laughter following the reply. “Hilarious as per usual.”

You invade my space rather suddenly, your head coming into the camera’s frame with a rather broad grin of your own plastered onto your features. “Yes, Steve. It was quite comical. My wife showed it to me last night and we both had quite the laugh.”

In one of the other small video squares, Tammy—another coworker and new friend of mine—shifts uncomfortably in her seat at the abrupt posturing.

Steve clears his throat and utters a quiet ‘that’s good’ before falling silent just as you disappear from view again to recline back into your chair. He engages in conversation with a few other coworkers just as they pop up onto the screen until, finally, the meeting begins.

***

The meeting lasts all of twenty-minutes, and once it is over, one by one, the squares disappear as coworker after coworker hop off of the call, until it is only Tammy and myself.

“Hungry,” you ask, the question earning an emphatic nod. You chuckle and rise up from your spot beside me, murmuring that you’ll be right back before disappearing from the study altogether.

The door clicks shut softly, plunging the room into silence once more, but when I turn back to the laptop, I find that Tammy is staring at me with a strange look on her face. Her brows are pinched, and her lips are pressed together in a thin line, as if she is concerned, or at the very least, displeased.

“What’s wrong,” I ask, placing a hand atop my stomach as I lean back into my chair.

Tammy exhales a breath and shakes her head as if to dispel whatever unpleasant thoughts were just swirling around inside. “It’s nothing, I…” Another sigh, and again I can see her re-evaluating. “I know that we’ve made fast friends, but it’s really none of my business.”

Now it is my turn to furrow my brows, though it is in confusion rather than concern. “What do you mean?” A nervous laugh escapes me. “Tammy, what’s going on?”

Papers shuffle unseen off screen, and Tammy’s eyes slide off to the side to look to her right whilst she chews her lip nervously. A stretch of silence continues on until, finally, she gives in and looks back to me through her screen. “It’s just… Don’t you think it’s a little strange?” Her gaze flickers, I assume, to the still closed door behind me. Even still, her voice lowers to a whisper so as not to be heard in the off chance that you return sooner than expected. “Charlie’s behavior with Steve,” she elaborates.

For a moment, I say nothing. I am completely caught off guard by her observation of what has commenced during the call. Never before have I dared to call into question the jealousy, the possessiveness that you have displayed over any interactions I have had with anyone else. In fact, I have been known to egg it on a time or two, if I am to be quite honest. I like the attention, crave it, even. It is nice to know that I am wanted every bit as I still and always will want you and your affections.

However…

Tammy is right.

I suppose that initially I had excused the behavior as nothing more than my being pregnant and your...proclivity towards my recent state. But the recent behavior displayed any time that Steve makes an appearance on screen or, god forbid, is brought up in conversation I find you bordering dangerously close to accusations that I wish to have Steve in my bed rather than you.

Unbidden, a thought enters my mind.

This isn’t fair. Nothing about this is fair, nor is it right. For the entirety of our relationship, you have done nothing but take bedmate after bedmate, going to great lengths to hide every relationship—one night or otherwise—behind my back, whilst I have remained dutifully devoted and loyal to you. Yet the moment that I have one person show even a modicum of interest in me, I am suddenly subject to an inquisition and hawk-like monitoring any time that I am on a work call.

This is troubling.

My hand rubs light circles against my stomach absentmindedly as Tammy calls my name, pulling me from the thoughts that I seem to have gotten myself swept up in. I put on a smile and hope like hell that she cannot tell just how forced it is in the moment. “It’s nothing, Tammy. Steve has been...aggressive in his advances,” I reply in truth. “I’ve told Charlie, of course, and he has done nothing but make sure that Steve knows that I am perfectly content and well taken care of here at home.” I exhale a soft sigh as I adjust my position in my seat, now frowning at the sudden ache in my lower back. “If anything,” I start, fiddling about with the pillow I have placed between my back and the chair before getting comfortable once more, “it’s Steve’s behavior that I would consider to be strange. Continuing to make passes at a married woman, a pregnant married woman at that, well… That’s not exactly a good look, is it?”

Tammy’s lips purse, and she takes a moment to consider my words before conceding with a nod. “I suppose you’re right. Forget I said anything,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Anyways…” She trails off, heaving a great, put-upon sigh. “I better get back to what I was doing before the call, and undoubtedly you have more manuscripts to read. Talk tomorrow?”

I smile, a genuine one this time, just as the door to the office creaks open with your arrival. “Of course. Talk tomorrow. Bye, Tammy.”

Exiting out of the call, I turn my smile to you as you set down a plate of last night’s leftovers beside my laptop before taking your seat beside me. It does not go unnoticed how your eyes have traveled to my laptop, which now displays my work e-mail before returning to your own where you have a Word document open in preparation of working more on your own manuscript.

“No more call,” you ask nonchalantly.

“No,” I reply, the smile fading as my voice evens out into a neutral tone. I can feel your gaze on me as my finger taps idly against the edge of the plate just before pushing it further away from where I sit.

You shift in your seat, and I wonder if it is because you are unhappy that I have temporarily rejected your offering. “Aren’t you going to eat,” you prompt, testing the waters.

I take a moment, debating. I have long since lost my appetite, and though I am no longer hungry, I know what a prolonged rejection would mean. So, instead, I reach for the plate and pull it back to me. “Thank you,” I finally reply, turning my head to look back over to where you sit, mustering a smile.

You are looking back at me with a strange expression, one bordering on concern. In response, just as I had done earlier, I reach for your hand and settle it atop my stomach. Keeping my own hand on yours, I gently graze my thumb along your knuckles, watching as you visibly relax from the contact. It isn’t until I take a bite of the leftovers, however, that you finally return my smile, clearly pleased that your help has no longer been rebuffed.

Though we both return our attentions back to the screens in front of us, the issue raised by Tammy sits at the forefront of my mind, screaming out for me to pay careful attention.

Try as I might, I will get little work done today.

#iamakiller #B+C #personal au #Steve #cw: pregnancy

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goldenfawnwriting · 3 years

Text

Birds Of A Feather- Part 12 Hawks fic

Summary: Hawks had confessed his feelings last night, but only during the heat of the moment. Will his confession hold up when it’s no longer easy to say?

A/N: I’ve had a lot of free time lately so I’m really trying to work on this pic lmao

Warning: Just angst p sure.

The next morning when Finch woke she would have never known Hawks was there in the first place. The only indication was the slightly messy bed sheets besides her and the red feather, hidden in plain sight, on her window sill. She rubbed her eyes and groaned as she sat up, pulling her sheets tighter around her.

When she finally got up and readied herself in a dress for the office she glanced around, an odd feeling creeping up on her. She shrugged it off though and made her way to work, taking a few headache pills on the way. She rushed into the office, setting her things down quickly and just making it to the briefing where Hawks stifled a chuckle at her. Her hair was left down in messy waves and she hadn’t yet gotten around to her usual lipstick. When the briefing ended and they were on their way back to the office he watched her hide a yawn couldn’t help himself but to comment.

“You’re awfully tired today.”

“Uh, ya, last night was a little long for me.”

“Oh really?”

He chuckled. He came to her as she stood by her desk and took a lock of her hair, wrapping it up around his finger.

“And just what kind of night did you have?”

She blushed under his suspicious gaze and turned, her hair falling out of his grip.

“Well, just met up with Asami is all. We just had a fun girls night.”

“Just you two huh?”

“Uh... Ya...”

She trailed off, blinking as she looked down. She honestly didn’t even remember getting home, she chalked it up to Asami but she turned towards him, her eyebrows furrowing.

“You showed up didn’t you?”

“What? No!”

He laughed, turning to retreat to his desk. She turned away also, blushing. Why would he have showed up anyway...

But she couldn’t help but spy how his breathing picked up, his face reddening.

“You did! You’re lying!”

He chuckled loudly and turned back towards her.

“What are you talking about love bird?”

“You’re telling me you weren’t... you didn’t see me...”

“Nope. Sat at home, went to bed.”

She squinted at him before the phone rang and she turned, bending over the desk to grab it off the hook, and holding herself up on her elbow as she greeted the other line. Hawks gawked at her form, his eyes raking over her backside in the short light blue skirt. He blinked as his eyes slid up to look over her wings, the way they just barely flapped as she cheerfully informed the person that they would transfer them to the financial office. When she had hung up she moved around to sit down at her computer, longing on and starting an email as she addressed him again.

“Ok so today you have two meetings, one at 3 and one at 5 right before we go home, so don’t forget. I- Hawks are you listening?”

He blinked at her before nodding quickly.

“Ya ya, 3 and 5, don’t forget.”

“Alright, and then Mr. Koshi needs you for a moment in the filing department.”

He nodded and started to make his way out before he turned back, going to his desk drawer and retrieving the brown hair pin, delivering it to her desk.

“You’ll probably need that. Seems you forgot the other one.”

With that he left, making his way to the filing department, a floor down. Meanwhile she stared at the hair pin before sighing. She dug in her bag for a moment before pulling out the green and gold hair pin. She looked it over for a moment before wrapping up her hair and sliding it into place. It still worked perfectly, even though she had ignored it in her bag for awhile now. Putting away the brown one in her desk drawer, she got to work, quickly sending out emails and taking more and more calls as the day progressed. At 3 she saw Hawks briefly before he went to his meeting, throwing her a wink, seemingly oblivious to the hair pin.

After his three o’clock meeting he made his way back to the office, meeting Finch on the way, who carted lunch in to the office, setting his on his desk before making her way to hers, munching on a granola bar.

“Is that all you got?”

He questioned, looking down at his large dish. There was a lot there, a full meal for sure. He glanced over at her sheepishly again.

“Oh, I wasn’t so hungry, you’ve been busy all morning so I figured you would be starving.”

He was silent before nodding and digging in. It was awfully thoughtful of her. HE looked up at her between bites.

“So did they tell you?”

She quirked her eyebrow in his direction as she continued typing.

“You’re training starts next week.”

She stopped, looking up abruptly.

“T-training?”

“Well ya, remember the sidekick thing?”

A look of realization came across her face.

“Oh, ya I do.”

He nodded as he took another bite of his food, wiping his mouth curtly.

“It’s gonna be hard, y’know.”

“Well, I figured, being a hero isn’t exactly easy, neither will being a sidekick.”

“No I mean, the commission’s training is especially hard...”

^^^

The following week was torture. And Finch blamed Hawks completely for not telling her this would be this way.

“That’s all you’ve got? You’re going to die as soon as you look at a villain if you’re this weak.”

She growled at the mans words, who stared down at her with a pitying look. She was sweating her ass off, her wings hurting so bad she almost couldn’t breathe, tears pricking her eyes. All of this was going so fast, not giving her any time to keep up as she ran miles and miles, did sit ups till she couldn’t see straight, and swam laps day and night as if she even would need that. She was cussing the man out in her head, his voice resounding in her mind as she did another push up. Her arms were shaking so hard she almost couldn’t keep herself up. It had been 8 straight hours of endurance training, for the past week.

She was so close to collapsing when they finally let her go for the day, giving her a snide remark about how maybe the next day would be better and worth their while. She finally got home and collapsed on the couch, tears flowing like during rain. She didn’t know if she could do this. The stress was so much, on top of the rules that had been set against her. Hawks’ feather in the other room tingled from the sound of her sobs, the feather she had been way too stressed to notice so far.

About 5 minutes later she had nearly cried herself to sleep on the couch but jolted at the sound of a knock on her door. She convinced herself if she ignored it they’d go away but, she had forgotten to lock the deadbolt and so about 30 seconds of no answer later, Hawks waltzed right in, scaring Finch half to death.

“W-what are you doing-”

“Are you alright?”

There was a silence before Finch burst into tears again, sobs wracking her whole body as she all but wailed.

“I-its so h-hard! E-everyth-thing h-hurts!”

She cried, Hawks making his way to her and enveloping her in his arms and wings, pushing her head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He let her cry for a good minute or two before he pulled her away to look at her.

“Listen Finch, I told you this wouldn’t be easy, and to be honest, it only gets worse from here. I’d hate to see you give up, dove. I know you’ll make the perfect sidekick.”

“I-I can’t t-take t-this s-sir!”

He groaned inwardly at the formality. Something about seeing her distressed induced panic in his chest, just as much as it stirred something deeper in him. He wanted to make everything better but he also was kinda pleased it was so hard for her. Maybe now she would see the world through his eyes, as awful as that sounded. He petted her hair, waiting on her to calm down.

“Birdie, you are so, so strong, I know you can do this.”

She only gave a sniffle in response.

“You are the most determined, strong woman I’ve ever met, if there is anyone who can do this, I know it’s you.”

He gave a little peck to the tip of her nose before nuzzling his cheek against hers. She let out a small sigh and relaxed into him slowly.

“I-I love you...”

He whispered to her before pulling away, to find her passed out in his arms, unaware to the confession he had made seconds earlier. It seemed like his just kept happening to him, he thought as he repositioned himself and slowly fell asleep wrapped around her.

#hawks #bnha hawks #Hawks fanfic #mha hawks #hawks angst #mha #bnha #keigo takami #bnha keigo #keigo #kiego takami

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vcg73 · 4 years

Text

Free Kurt - Past Kurt

I wrote one extra story for the Free Kurt, anti-proposal challenge, but it’s a little different. 😊

~*~*~*~*~

“What are you wearing?”

Kurt jumped at the sound of a young and judgmental voice speaking directly in his ear.

He was standing on a wide marble step within the hallowed halls of Dalton Academy, surrounded by dozens of friends, acquaintances, and strangers from the assorted western Ohio high schools that Blaine had brought here today to witness his proposal. A proposal that was currently proceeding from the step below his own, and which Kurt was feeling increasingly pressured to accept in spite of his own very real misgivings.

And while it was a very distracting scene, he had not noticed anyone sneaking up behind him. He turned his head slightly, attempting to pay attention to Blaine’s words while simultaneously taking a quick peripheral peek over his right shoulder.

Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin when the voice spoke again, this time right next to him on the left. “Wait, are we getting proposed to?”

Whipping his head to the left, Kurt frowned. Who was that? He didn’t see anyone.

Blaine faltered a little, apparently noticing his distraction. “Kurt?” he mumbled, hazel eyes darting about as his intended frowned and looked everywhere but at him. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you hear that?” he asked.

“I’m very good looking in the future!” the voice observed, sounding pleased. “Tall too! But that suit has got to go. Peacock blue brocade can be beautiful if used sparingly. Maybe a vest or a jacket against an all black suit. Though on second thought that might make it look like you were about to deal roulette in Vegas. But an entire suit? And with a violet silk shirt to contrast? I know this is just a dream, otherwise I wouldn’t be watching myself, but what has happened to my fashion sense since I got old?”

The young voice was so utterly horrified that Kurt almost laughed in spite of the bizarre circumstance. For he recognized the speaker now. What was even stranger, he remembered now with a startling burst of clarity, that he had had this very dream when he was about 14 years old. Himself standing in what he had thought was a fairy tale palace, watching himself be proposed to by Prince Charming.

Had it not been a dream? For he did recall suddenly that it had occurred following a whack to the head brought about after one of the goon squad, who had already started targeting him in middle school, had aimed badly when shoving Kurt into a locker. Kurt had told his dad that he’d been hit with a dodge ball during P.E. His dad had skeptically bought it, not able to prove otherwise, but Kurt had been given a few days off of school that week, and he remembered being watched like a hawk the whole time.

He also remembered having a lot of strange half-remembered dreams that he had written off to concussion.

A little shiver went down his spine. Surely it was not possible that he had done some kind of astral time travel thing. Wasn’t that just a little too sci-fi for the real world?

And yet, he could not deny the voice that was apparently only in his own ears at this moment. For nobody else was reacting as if they heard a young teenager passing judgment on this whole affair.

“Actually, forget our fashion taste. What the hell is he wearing?”

Kurt bit down a smirk. He had forgotten how dramatically fond of italics he had been as a kid. But he focused, really focused for the first time, on that hideous banana yellow creation that Blaine had chosen, and had to give his alter ego a point on it. No doubt Blaine had wanted something that would force every eye onto him. It wasn’t like he had ever been able to stand not having 100% of the attention in any room turned his way.

Blinking, Kurt wondered where that harsh thought had come from. Sure, it was true, but shouldn’t his thoughts be focused toward how romantic this all was? Apparently listening to the point of view of his less inhibited younger self was sparking a little rebellion inside of him.

“He’s handsome, our boyfriend,” the young voice observed in a clinical tone that made his older self want to laugh. He remembered using it when deciding between two equally perfect outfits, trying to decide which would have more of a ‘wow’ factor. “But his fashion taste is terrible and I don’t like the hair. That slicked back Elvis retro thing is so 1995. It also makes him look like he’s pushing 30. Wait. Is he older than us? How old are we? Are we 30?”

That age must seem ancient to a boy of 14, Kurt supposed. His conscience prickled at the remembrance of his own life plan having been to find someone and become husbands or domestic partners, depending on what the law dictated so far in the future, with him by 30. Before that, he had always expected to live a life of fashionable single fabulosity, with boyfriends by the dozen, while he conquered the career of his choice. It had not been until high school, developing his first bad crush on Finn Hudson, being swamped with insistent hormones, and being constantly surrounded by relationships, that he had started longing for a commitment. Not because he knew what to do with one then, but because he had hated being the only person who did not even have the prospect of a real relationship.

He knew better than that now. So why was he still so determined to do something he knew in his gut that he was not ready for? Even if their ‘teenage dream’ had been perfect, was he really willing to enter into a lifelong commitment before he even hit 20?

Apparently unaware of his thoughts, the voice of his young observer continued with relentless interest. “Oh, my god. Is that Rachel? Tell me you are not thinking of letting Rachel Berry be your attendant. She’s the most obnoxious girl in school! And she’s dressed better than you! Maybe this is actually a nightmare. Oh, hey, there’s Dad. Hi, Dad!”

Kurt looked at his father, looking slightly confused a few steps below where he stood just behind Will Schuester. Burt looked around surreptitiously, as if he had heard the call, but knew it was not possible for it to be there.

“If he’s here at our proposal then he knows about us!” invisible Kurt said happily. “Did we come out to him, and he’s happy for us?”

The sound of a dreamy sigh made Kurt’s eyes unexpectedly prickle with tears. How well he remembered that feeling. That co-mingling of fear, dread, and hope that had gripped him every time he had considered biting the bullet, and telling his father that he was gay. Of course he would have thought he was dreaming all this, seeing his father in his every day attire in a place like this, while they were both surrounded by the glitter and formality of dozens of smiling peers. Friends were another thing that young Kurt had never been sure he would actually experience in real life.

“If this is a dream, does that mean Mom is here too?” the invisible speaker asked, this note of longing in his young voice going straight to Kurt’s heart. He had heard that question deep inside himself for so many years. The small childish part of him that had never entirely accepted that someone as wonderful, fun-loving, and tenderly understanding as his beautiful mother could just be snuffed out of his world after only eight short years.

“No,” he said softly. He knew suddenly that if his mother had been here, she never would have approved of this. She had held the safety and happiness of her only child as a sacred trust from the day he was born until her very last day on Earth. He had always been able to talk to her about anything, and this would have been no different. Mom never would have allowed him to compromise his heart and his future for a dream that he already knew did not live up to reality. “I’m sorry.”

He had been speaking to past-Kurt and to his mother, but when he said the words, it caused Blaine to stop mid-sentence with a look of shock. “What do you mean, no.”

Kurt blinked. Suddenly he knew that while he had not meant those words for Blaine, a part of him had actually wanted to say them out loud ever since he walked in the building.

“Kurt, what are you doing?” Blaine said, his voice more annoyed now as Kurt brushed past him to walk down a few steps, looking around at the crowd and realizing for the first time how few of these people he actually knew. “You’re embarrassing me! I don’t what you’re looking for, but it doesn’t matter. Can we just get on with this thing?”

Kurt turned to look at him, frowning at the irritated question.

“This thing?” he repeated, eyes narrowing. “You mean the thing where I’m missing my flight home so my ex-boyfriend who’s still in high school can ask me to agree to spend the rest of my life with him, even though we’ve only been casually back together as a couple for a couple of days? The thing where we’re both supposed to agree to love and be faithful to one another forever? That thing?”

Apparently he had not entirely lost his love of italics after all. His tone was biting, the reminder of his own youthful hopes and expectations making him feel angry and betrayed all over again.

Instead of understanding, Blaine actually rolled his eyes. “Not that again. I told you, I thought we were over when that happened! And didn’t I promise I would never ever do it again? Isn’t that enough? Why can’t you just get over it? It’s not like it meant anything, Kurt.”

That injured way he said Kurt’s voice, the way that usually deflated whatever outrage Kurt felt and caused him to guiltily give in, enraged him this time.

“No, Blaine. I can’t just get over it. Because we weren’t anywhere near over when it happened, and you know it. It’s called a long distance relationship, and what you did was horrible. Our being boyfriends meant everything to me. The fact that you could throw what we had away on a stranger after just a few weeks apart, because I couldn’t devote all of my attention to you while I was starting a new life in a different state? That meant something to me. It meant that I couldn’t trust you anymore. I don’t trust you, and I can’t forget that happened, so I guess I was wrong about being able to forgive it too. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I don’t want to spend my whole life with a guy that I don’t believe will keep a vow to honor and cherish me.”

Blaine sputtered. “But, but I . . . what about all this?” He gestured frantically around them as if he could not conceive of such a scene not magically wiping away whatever doubts Kurt had.

“This is all very beautiful,” Kurt said, glancing around at the streamers, balloons, and startled faces that filled the room, “but it’s only a child’s dream. The real world isn’t a pretty song and a lot of smiling faces. It’s hard work, and compromise, and shared joys, and making sacrifices for each other’s happiness. That’s what a real commitment means, Blaine. It means being there for the people you love even when conditions are not ideal. Even when they’re so bad that you don’t know what to say or how to move forward, but you keep trying because you love them too much to ever want to cause that person pain. It means being your best self and making good times for the two of you even when the worst things are happening.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted, flopping his hands helplessly. “Where is all this coming from?”

Kurt looked at his dad, who was dashing away tears from eyes that carried mingled pride, regret, and new understanding.

“I was reminded on the way here about how much my mom and dad loved each other, and how deeply committed they were to each other. Even when my mom was dying, they never stopped trying to make each other smile. They never would have cheated on each other, or tried to pressure each other into making a decision that they knew was wrong. And when it was just Dad and me, he did the same for me. He wanted me to always know that I had a safe space with him, a home where I could be myself and try to block out all the pain of the outside world. And I did the same for him, even when I was a little clumsy about trying to protect him.”

Burt nodded, his smile wry as he was clearly remembering some of of the awkward, uncomfortable, but always deeply loving moments they had shared together

“I want that again,” Kurt said, turning back to his would-be fiance. “It’s been a long time since I had a place where I know I can always be myself without having to hide half of the things that make me who I am. A place where I can feel safe because I always know that I’m loved and respected. A home where I can be with someone wants to make sure that I’m happy, just because knowing that makes him happy. Because I deserve that, Blaine. And because I’ll do the same for the man that I’ll agree to spent my life with one day.”

“And I’m not that man?” he asked, sounding genuinely sad.

Kurt looked at him, smiled, and gently kissed his cheek. “No. I hope you will be that man for somebody one day, but we both know deep down that it can’t be me. Our relationship started right here in this hallway three years ago. It’s appropriate that it ends in the same place. Good luck, Blaine.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, Blaine reading the truth in Kurt’s steady gaze. “I’ll miss you. I’ll always love you, Kurt.”

“Goodbye. Dad, I’ll meet you out at the car.”

Holding his head high, Kurt walked down the steps and past the shocked crowd of onlookers.

“Thanks, Kurt,” he whispered, no longer able to sense his younger self, who had probably awakened from his dream at the same time his present self had ended the swirling nightmare of his unwanted proposal.

Pushing past the great double doors of Dalton Academy, Kurt smiled and stepped out into the sunlight, leaving the past behind him.

THE END

#Free Kurt #elledelajoie #Anti Klaine proposal challenge

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kangaracharacha · 3 years

Note

Imogen and all the OC asks

What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about? ‘sparrow’, because she turned up with hawkeye and a sparrow is a little shitty hawk and tony stark thinks he’s funny

What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin? blue, blonde, white.

How tall is your OC? not very tall. very short. probably like 5′-ish.

What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC? there’s a long, ugly scar on the inside of her collarbone. otherwise, the general bad attitude mixed with the height is. amusing.

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night? comfortable, practical clothing. dull colours, generic brands, doesn’t mind much what she looks like. for a special occasion, she’d dress down, but appropriate to the occasion.

What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances? angry

Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar? scar on her collarbone.

How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like? I’m honestly struggling here. It’s just normal. Just a normal voice. Good at shouting. Very loud. Usually angry.

What does your OC’s bedroom look like? His/her living area? kind of messy but like, organised chaos. she’s not really a chore-doer, yknow, she’s busy doing other stuff and she mostly lives alone so it doesn’t bother her or anyone else. it’s not really out of control or anything. apart from her clothes and stuff, she doesn’t really have her own space; in new york, she lives in clint’s apartment, an old, small space in an outdated building with second-hand furniture and a bunch of clint’s crap still sitting around, and if she has a place in sokovia it’s temporary housing and doubles as an office, so in the grand scheme of things she doesn’t really have a huge impact on the spaces she occupies while she’s there.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer? as sad as it is, nothing, she doesn’t really have a lot of possessions, definitely not special ones; the only things she brought with her from SHIELD were a bag of clothes, a knife, a gun, and a toothbrush, and since then she hasn’t quite settled enough to start collecting things - and living most of her life so far without a lot of stuff is just a hard habit to break.

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her mother? the evil scientist? she’s not a huge fan. kind of resents her like, a lot. imogen doesn’t remember anything about her except what other people have told her and the things she’s found out about herself, so she’s kind of just a stranger that set her up for a lifetime of frustrations.

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her father? nevr knew him, has like one vague memory of him being kind of nice, but in the end he was evil so she’s not really searching for any way to keep his memory alive.

How many siblings does your OC and what is his/her relationship with them? hah. she has one brother. having cut herself loose of that tie, she’s recently realised that that relationship was some kinda toxic and also he wasn’t afraid to kill her when ordered to so. you could say she’s not really interested in seeing him again either.

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life? she’s a bit over parental figures and a bit too old for that kind of bond at this point in her life, but she does have a couple of ‘mentors’, people that she can rely on to point her in the right direction. clint barton is one, of course, you always have to have a good friend who can knock you out and tell you ‘hey maybe being on team hydra isn’t like, the most morally sound decision you could make’. pepper potts is a professional rolemodel she’s found she can look up to. she lowkey thinks she could be like pepper someday but she’ll never admit that ‘CEO’ sounds like a good job to her. and shoutout to Agent Donoghue, whose name i had to look up because he’s in sparrow for a whole five seconds but. she feels really bad about this one. Donoghue was her last chance at SHIELD, he gave her every chance to be successful in that line of work and he really was a good mentor, she just wasn’t ready to change when they knew each other. she looks back on a lot of the things he said these days and regrets not listening sooner, just like she regrets how it ended...but things had to happen the way they did for her to want to grow and become a better person.

What was your OC’s childhood like? crap, mostly. well, it was fine in a way, but. her parents died when she was five and she almost died too but that wiped most of the memory out of her head at least. she was adopted by a neighbour who was actually just a hydra agent on a longcon mission to keep an eye on her, more because she was possibly useful for information on her parents than out of any concern. this didn’t really lead to a loving household to grow up in, and her brother, who is five (or maybe seven?) years older than her didn’t spend much time around the place, and got himself admitted to the SHIELD academy as soon as he could. she didn’t really deal with this whole situation very well, so she grew up struggling in school, getting into fights, constantly grounded and yet impossible to control. eventually, her brother managed to get her an admission into the academy as well, where she found some structure at least but wasn’t particularly well liked and was typically bottom of the class, problem student, one step away from being thrown out.

What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Why and how as that impacted him/her? she sort of remembers the murder of her parents, sort of, but it doesn’t really hit her the way she thinks it probably should? it’s just there in the back of her brain, blurry and disjointed and she’s not sure how much of it she’s made up and how much she’s actually remembering, and it doesn’t really impact her all that much although it probably did as a young child. otherwise, the day that her brother, will, left for the academy. she has a whole lifetime of memories of people failing her, but that was the first time that he failed her, and though she didn’t realise it at the time, it was the final straw for her as a kid; she only closed off after that, gave up on people and on school and whatever else she was dreaming about. looking back now, she realises that she should have held on to that betrayal instead of eventually forgiving him, because that was her first red flag that he wasn’t as focused on her wellbeing as she thought he was.

What is your OC’s imagination like? not very good, she’s a very impulsive and in-the-moment kind of person, and a pragmatic and logical thinker who doesn’t leave much room for fanciful dreaming or thinking very far outside the box.

How many times did your OC move as a child? Which area was his/her favorite? she spent most of her childhood in new york, shifting house a couple of times but otherwise in the same area, attending the same school, etc. they all sucked, honestly; her favourite place was her parent’s house. or it would be if she could remember it.

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them? she used to have no tolerance for kids but she’s warming up to them slowly, the further she gets from being a loudmouthed, hotheaded teenager. she would have kids one day, but not for a while yet, but more because she’s just too busy and not settled in one place at all than because she doesn’t like them.

What kind of mother/father would your OC be? she’d be dedicated to being a good mother, and to settling down and living a life that is right for her kids. she wouldn’t be the perfect parent, she knows nothing about parenting and has never had one of her own in her life, but she would try her best. she might even learn patience.

Who are your OC’s closest relatives? none of her relatives are close. she doesn’t know any of her distant family, most of them are dead anyway, and her brother is the worst person ever, so she’d just like them all to stay very far away, thankyou.

Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)? she has a couple of good friends in sokovia, katja and sofia and vinn (but they are all ocs and so you’ll have to send me another ask to know more about them). clint and the maximoffs are her closest friends in the avengers circle of people, and i guess ruby (radford, hacker extraordinaire and Legally Dead) also counts as a close friend, if grudgingly.

Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with? people that challenge her, and people that have earned her respect, which she doesn’t give away freely. she likes to be pushed, whether in her skills or her wit or just as a person, and she has an acute sense of when people don’t really like her company - which is fine, she knows she has a personality that is grating to some people, but she would prefer that they just didn’t come near her if that’s the case.

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates? people that she feels are working against what she thinks is right. usually, this is groups of people - hydra, intel, certain rebel groups and militias in sokovia. otherwise, there are plenty of people that rub her the wrong way day to day, but she doesn’t really spend time actively hating them, she’ll just either get into a fight with them or avoid them as much as she can.

If your OC has a soulmate, who is it? (pietro, but don’t tell her)

Why does your OC and his/her soulmate work so well together? they’re both people that grew up lost and overlooked and angry at the world, and they were both manipulated by hydra and used and tossed aside by them, so they find common ground in that, even if it was on very different scales. they also tend to run in the same sort of circles as well - they find friends in the same people, their goals often align - but their personalities are different enough that they don’t just piss each other off. they share the same humour and the same brutal honesty and strong sense of right and wrong - they’re not afraid to call each other out, or argue, and they’re learning to apologise and forgive together. most importantly, they make the choice to be there for each other and to live new lives, and they stick to it. they both have an idea of who they want to be in the future, and both have the other in that vision.

What are some things your OC admires about his/her soulmate? she admires his commitment to his cause, how much he cares about his country and his friends and family and the responsibility he puts on himself to fix it. also, that he could put up with her for so long, without complaint; she’s always been used to people getting tired of her or taking off (or trying to kill her but we’re not going to talk about that), and she wasn’t really sure anyone could stand to be around her and still care about her for so long.

How did your OC and his/her soulmate meet? auntie stark playing matchmaker at a party because he was bored and he’s a meddler and they both annoy him in the same way.

What is your OC’s level of education? high school dropout and SHIELD academy dropout with no formal education, but she’s competent enough to get by in basic skills like maths and SHIELD related things like fighting and espionage.

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they? is detention considered an extracurricular activity

What is your OC’s opinion of school? What kind of student was s/he? school was a very negative experience. she hated every minute of it. she was that really annoying, disruptive kid that would physically square up to anyone who even looked at her funny and regularly punched people and things, yknow? bad grades, bad attitude, no friends, given up on a long time ago.

What subjects did your OC excel at? sports weren’t terrible, as long as they weren’t team sports. once she got to the academy, hand to hand combat was her best subject, except that she was used to fighting dirty and already too set against the system to sit down and learn proper technique.

What subjects interested your OC? nothing at school really interested her; all of her interests have really come to her in her 20s, when she’s free to discover them on her own.

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession? throughout the three fics about her, she’s a shield/hydra agent, a security officer at Stark Industries, and the director of the SRF camp in Nova Grad, Sokovia. she’s still figuring out where this is leading her, but the last two jobs have been perfect for her at that stage in her life.

How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieved his/her current profession? she’s been lucky enough to fall into each of her professions so far, which she is all too aware of and works hard to prove that she deserves it. her brother got her a place in SHIELD training, Clint helped organise the job at Stark Industries and called in a few favours so that she would get it, and she took over the SRF camp temporarily after an incident with the former director. she’s most proud of her work at the latter, and she’ll try to continue in that role until something else pulls her away.

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession? she enjoyed working at SI well enough, the job was within her skill level, the people were okay, she was comfortable. she could have easily stayed there for a lot longer if other opportunities hadn’t presented themselves. she loves running the SRF camp, it’s just the right amount of challenging and a little bit dangerous but not too dangerous, and even if it’s a lot of paperwork there’s also something new and crazy happening every day to keep it fresh.

What is your OC’s biggest dream? to find a place to fit into and live a life where she’s making her own decisions, outside of the control of other people.

How does your OC react to and handle stress? she gets short and snappy with people, doesn’t have time for stupid or time wasting, can get pretty heated but doesn’t often get overwhelmed, she’s still got a handle on the situation.

How does your OC handle anger? loudly. she will physically fight people, if she’s riled up enough, but she’s trying to curb that habit.

How does your OC handle grief? processes inwardly, and puts on a brave face outwardly. very few people would see her express grief, and it would take a few weeks for it to really hit her like that.

What is your OC’s greatest fear? losing everything she’s worked hard to get in the last few years.

What makes your OC happy? uninterrupted downtime, when she can just do what she wants. it’s a simple life. oh, and people getting what they deserve. it’s satisfying.

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have? sarcastic, dry remarks, and finding humour in other people’s misfortune.

What are some things that greatly upset your OC? being disregarded as stupid or useless or annoying, situations in which she’s helpless or too far out of her depth to catch up

What are some things that annoy your OC? people that can’t keep up with her or say dumb shit, people in general, irritating noises

If your OC has them, what are some regrets s/he has? she regrets not trying harder in school or the academy, she feels like those years were mostly wasted and wishes they hadn’t been even though she knows it’s not something to blame herself for. she regrets killing donoghue too; in the moment, it was all she could do, and what she had to do to survive, but it goes so against her morals that she’ll always feel guilty about it.

How easily does your OC forgive? not very. she’s been let down a lot in the past, and she’s cutthroat about removing people from her life when she thinks that they’re dragging her down.

What are some of your OC’s vices? pride, wrath, anger, impatience, unkindness, spite

If your OC experienced trauma, what was it? the death of her parents. during flicker, she struggles with the knowledge that she has killed and seriously injured people before, and with knowing that she’s done these things while trying to learn how to live a normal life. in swift, sokovia offers her a very immediate and major seachange; she has to live through bombings, violent riots, shootings, etc. I think the most rattling out of these for her is having to play dead on a street filled with the dead, not knowing if her friends are alive or if she is going to live through this. up until swift, she doesn’t really see the worst that groups like hydra can do; she sees the blood and the death and the injustice of soldiers running blindly in to die, but this incident really hits home for her that she’s putting herself in the way of bad, terrifying people, and the things they are capable of are scary.

What secrets does your OC have? she used to be a hydra agent. she’s open about it if she has to be, if someone finds this information out themselves she’s very upfront and will tell them the whole story and let them make their own decision, but she’ll keep it secret until that time, she’ll never be the one they hear it from.

What are some of your OC’s morals? usually her choices come down to just basic human decency, sadly; she believes people should be free to make their own choices and to live their own lives, safe and in peace. in the scope of swift, she wants the people of sokovia to be able to retain their country under their own control, she doesn’t believe that the invaders and the rising militia should be involved, and that they should be free to choose their own government, but she doesn’t really think that riots and bombs are the way to go about it.

What are some of your OC’s motivations? her own drive to be better than she has been in the past, to make up for the time she’d spent with hydra (even if the things she’d actively done for them were minimal), to find her way in the world and the place she’s meant to occupy.

What is the health of your OC? it’s good. lots of scars, the regular kind of aches and pains from living a very active lifestyle. as of swift, she has restricted movement in her shoulder from a bullet wound - not enough to really bother her day-to-day, but she’s given up archery since recovering.

Does your OC think with his/her head or heart? with her head

What are your OC’s thoughts on death? she hasn’t really come to terms with death yet - it’s a scary concept, and she’s young. mostly, she just tries not to think about it at all, even when it’s staring her right in the face. she could probably find peace with it when it happens, if it’s for the right cause.

What are some of your OC’s strengths? she’s willful, determined, brave, she can speak her mind when she needs to and she’s not afraid to tell people what she thinks or to fight for a change. she’s open to change herself, and she’s willing to learn, where she wasn’t in the past.

What are some of your OC’s weaknesses? she’s quick to anger and slow to forgive, she often picks a fight that she should refrain from and can easily hurt the ones she loves. she’s closed off and that turns away many people and loses her many opportunities. she has a negative mindset and low self-worth; she makes life harder for herself often.

How does your OC take criticism? not well. she’ll get angry and start an argument or storm off, and take a few hours or days to process. it depends who is offering her criticism as to whether she’ll come crawling back to apologise or if her pride will be too much to allow her to do that.

What does your OC think of him/herself? she doesn’t think very highly of herself. she’s acutely aware of her faults - that she’s too angry and hardheaded, that she doesn’t listen enough and isn’t particularly talented at anything.

If your OC could change one thing about him/herself, what would it be? some days, she would say that she would change her whole personality, take out the anger or whatever it is that makes it so hard for her to sit down and listen, or forget her whole past. other days, she wouldn’t want to change anything at all, even though she’s a whole mess. she really wants the latter to be her answer, but she’s still learning to be okay with herself.

What is the general impression your OC gives other people? standoffish, strong personality bordering on rude, takes no shit, short-tempered, unfriendly.

How emotionally/mentally vulnerable is your OC with other people? on a scale of zero to ten, i’d give her a solid one. she’s closed off, pragmatic, and thinks she has to do everything alone. close friends might get more out of her, and she’s learning to be softer and more open, and to work with other people, but for the most part she isn’t giving anything away.

How does your OC display love? sarcasm, mostly. she doesn’t outwardly express it, really, especially in public, but she’s always there as support or to listen or offer advice, if she can. and she’s always trying to do better and to commit herself to the relationship, even if she doesn’t make a big show of it.

What are some habits your OC has picked up? clint’s coffee addiction has rubbed off on her.

What is your OC’s favorite drink? it’s quickly becoming coffee

What is your OC’s favorite food? doritos

What is your OC’s favorite sweet? chocolate

What is your OC’s favorite season? autumn

What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather? sunny, but not too sunny

What is your OC’s favorite book? she doesn’t really read

What is your OC’s favorite movie and/or TV show? dog cops, she used to hate it but now she’s too invested to quit, shrek is her like, go-to movie when there’s nothing else which is weird and she’ll never admit it. but true.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of music (and song if there is one)? she listens to a whole bunch of different music, but her main genres would be pop, rock, rnb

What is your OC’s favorite form of entertainment? TV/movies

What is your OC’s favorite color? blue

What is your OC’s favorite scent? salty sea air on a strong breeze. it’s just so crisp.

What is your OC’s favorite animal? she wasn’t a dog person until she met clint’s dogs. now she’s totally a dog person.

What is your OC’s favorite sound? s i l e n c e on a sunday morning.

What is your OC’s favorite time of day? morning, once she’s awake.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of ice cream? chocolate

What is your OC’s favorite dinosaur? pterodactyl

#imogen oc #flicker

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twilights-800-cats · 3 years

Text

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Chapter 19

Feathertail shook her muzzle as a tiny white flake tickled her whiskers. She looked up and, frowning, realized that the sky had turned a pale gray. Frozen-water is here, she thought. The Tribe cats had said that the cold and snow often came far sooner in the mountains than it did in the land below.

She looked back at the others. None of them seemed enthused about the idea of snow – they had been walking non-stop since leaving the Tribe’s territory, with heads down and moods sullen and hardly a word spoken beyond necessity.

Feathertail turned her attention to their surroundings. The land was sloping downward, the rocks and crags growing farther and farther apart as the level earth below got closer and closer. They weren’t too far away from the edge of Tribe territory – at a sprint they could make it back before evening – but their patrols weren’t likely to follow them here. Feathertail guessed that, if they kept walking, they’d make it to the forest within a few days. But that means leaving Stormfur behind.

Her eye caught on an outcropping of rock that rose over the slanting ground, forming a deep cave with the stone around it. She pointed there with her tail. “Shelter,” she said.

Mistyfoot came to her side, narrowing her eyes at the cave. “It will have to do,” she decided. “Thank you, Feathertail.” The ThunderClan she-cat headed for the rocks, her tail raised for the others to follow.

Feathertail nodded. She opened her jaws to scent the area, but found nothing threatening within the vicinity. With a quick glance at the sky for hawks or eagles, she followed the others into the cave.

It was cool but dry inside, and spacious enough for each cat to stretch and rest their weary paws. Feathertail was grateful for the break, sitting down to lap at her sore pads. Outside, the snow was beginning to fall more quickly – they’d found shelter just in time, and Feathertail reasoned they could do worse than this cave for waiting out a snowstorm.

“I’m starving,” Crowpaw complained.

“Same here,” sighed Nightpaw. He lifted up one of his paws for Shadepaw to examine. “My paws are falling off!”

“Not quite yet,” Shadepaw pointed out, her voice quiet. She gave his paw a lick. “But your pads are all gritty.”

Nightpaw sighed and settled down to clean his paws. Stoneheart raised his head, frowning as he looked over the others. His eyes rested on Mistyfoot, who was grooming her tail. “This seems like a good spot to make our plans,” he meowed.

“We’ll plan better with full bellies,” Mistyfoot responded.

“I’ll go,” Feathertail offered.

She blinked, surprised at the looks the others were giving her. Had she been too hasty to offer? Was she imagining the spark of uncertainty in their gazes? Feathertail swallowed. She had to be making it up – Crowpaw’s comments earlier were just getting under her fur.

“Go on,” Mistyfoot meowed. “But be quick, and stay out of the Tribe’s sight.”

“Of course!” Feathertail got to her paws and slipped out of the cave.

She looked over the snow-covered rocks and wondered where the prey might be hiding. Keeping her body low, Feathertail made her way over to one of the boulders sticking out over the earth, clawing her way up to survey the land. There were plenty of bushes and scraggly trees for prey to hide, and the rocks would also provide good shelter for mice or birds. The snow wasn’t falling too hard, not yet, and Feathertail could feel in her fur that only the cold would follow them through the night.

As Feathertail scanned the land, she found herself grateful for the solitude. Without the others staring at her, it seemed like her mind could fully take in what had happened. Guilt pierced her belly, sharp as hunger – I never should have made Stormfur come, she thought. If I had just acted like a warrior instead of a spoiled kit, this never would have happened to him.

She spotted a bird hopping between bushes, looking for any spare berries. Feathertail slid off of the rocks, halting her movements long enough to blend in with the grayness around her. Is it really his destiny to help the Tribe, though? She wondered as she crept closer. Would some force have brought him along, anyway?

As she pounced, she thought of Midnight. It seemed like seasons ago that the she-badger had directed the Clan cats to the mountains in the first place. If she hadn’t said anything, we would have followed Purdy through Twolegplace again. They might have even been back to the Clans by now. Midnight had said destiny was in motion…

Did she know about Sharptooth, and the Tribe? Feathertail lifted her head, the bird caught in her jaws. The smell of fresh-kill flooded her senses. Did she know that they wanted Stormfur?

The possibility unsettled Feathertail. Midnight was a strange enough creature on her own, but she –and the others, likely – had assumed the badger was on their side. Was she really, if she had nudged them into this situation? Is this another test, like the journey itself?

Feathertail’s head was reeling. I might not ever see Midnight again, she thought, so I might never get those answers… She looked up the slope, towards the Tribe’s territory. And I might never see Stormfur again, either, if we don’t act soon…

Refocusing her efforts, Feathertail set down her bird and crouched again, readying herself to leap upon a mouse that was just within range. Her haunches wiggled…

She thought of springing, but the thought never went through her back legs – a weight landed on her back, knocking Feathertail off of her paws and sending her sprawling down the slope.

Blood roared in her ears as Feathertail scrambled to her paws, shock pulsing through her muscles. Eyes wide, she bared her teeth in a snarl, claws unsheathed. What was that? She thought. Sharptooth? The Tribe?

The scent of cat washed over her, and Feathertail caught movement a tail-length away. A gray tabby she-cat was circling her, tail lashing to and fro and eyes flashing with hostility. It wasn’t any Tribe cat that Feathertail recognized, but the strange cat’s build was unmistakable, and beneath the scent of rock and water she did detect the faint musk of the Tribe.

What do I do? She thought, hazarding a glance at the cave. Can they see me?

Feathertail caught more movement in her periphery. Three more cats, all of Tribe origin, were now flanking her – at least two were cave-guards, from their strong shoulders and broad heads. Feathertail swallowed.

They don’t smell like they’ve seen Tribe territory in a moon, she thought. Tribe cats were reluctant to leave their borders, despite being the only cats who hunted in the mountains. What are they doing out here?

One of them, a small brown tom, rammed into her from the side. “Move!” he hissed.

Feathertail hissed back, but complied, finding that the strangers were herding her into the cave where her friends were resting. Bristling with worry for their safety, Feathertail cried, “Look out!”

Eyes flashed in the dark. Stoneheart and Mistyfoot emerged immediately, bristling, with claws unsheathed. The strange cats stopped pushing Feathertail, standing up straight in shock.

“More?!” snapped the gray tabby she-cat. She flashed a look at Feathertail, and then at a big dark tabby tom whose one eye was nearly sealed shut by an old scar. Feathertail could only imagine what had made such a mark. “An ambush from Stoneteller?”

Ambush? Stoneteller?

“They smell of Tribe,” growled the small brown tom at Feathertail’s other side. He lashed his stumpy tail.

Feathertail had a moment to look at her captors more closely. These cats were covered in scars, thinner and hungrier looking than their brethren in Tribe territory. She wondered again what they were doing out here when home and safety lay not far away.

The dark tabby tom narrowed his eyes. “But they do not look Tribe,” he meowed. He raised his tail and, with looks of wary confusion, the other three cats took a step back. “Who are you?”

Mistyfoot did not lower her guard, but she lifted her head. “We are not Tribe,” she insisted. “We were their guests, before we were sent away.”

Feathertail guessed that Mistyfoot wasn’t trying to offend these cats, in case they were itching to bring them back to the Tribe. It seemed as if they didn’t know about the Clan cats or that they had been kicked out, at the very least. Feathertail’s heart pounded harder. Hopefully that was a good thing.

The dark tabby tom’s ears pinned, and his eyes narrowed in thought.

“We need to get inside, Talon,” muttered one of them, a massive dark gray tom. Feathertail thought he might be Boulder’s brother, for how similar they looked. “The cold will claim us, if not Sharptooth.”

Sharptooth… Feathertail shivered. Mistyfoot and Stoneheart exchanged a glance. Maybe they could learn what this Sharptooth was from these cats, if they played their situation right.

Talon, the tabby tom, nodded. “Indeed.” He turned his sharp gaze upon the Clan cats. “We will discuss this further inside the cave.”

Feathertail was pushed forward, into Mistyfoot and Stoneheart. Three of the four Tribe cats formed a line, pressing in towards the entrance of the cave, while another broke off, only to return with a mouthful of fresh-kill hidden in the snow beneath a bush.

The cave was crowded with so many cats. Crowpaw and Nightpaw were bristling as they all came inside, with even Shadepaw’s claws unsheathed – but when they saw that hostilities seemed over, only Crowpaw looked cross at the crowd. They gathered haphazardly around the center of the cave, where the gray tabby she-cat thrust her catch – two rabbits, Feathertail’s bird, and a mouse.

Feathertail felt foolish. She should have scented the faint odor of Tribe in the stone around her. Worrying about Stormfur must have clouded my senses, she thought, shifting on her paws as she pressed herself against the rock to make room. Talon sat beside her and looked over the fresh-kill pile. If this isn’t their permanent spot, they must come here often.

Talon took one of the rabbits and took a bite, passing it to Stoneheart. The ShadowClan tom hesitated, but then took a bite himself. Feathertail sighed. At least they’re willing to show peace, she thought. She took a bite of the rabbit as it was passed to her, and then pushed it on to Mistyfoot.

“So,” Talon meowed, licking his whiskers, “who are you?”

Mistyfoot was busy chewing, so Stoneheart launched into the long explanation of the message from StarClan, the journey to the lake, and their experience in the mountains. Briefly he touched upon the Clans, but most of his speech was focused on their time with the Tribe, and what happened to Stormfur.

Talon’s eyes were wide by the end, and the other Tribe cats looked just as stunned.

“So, you have been exiled as well,” Talon murmured. His expression softened, which was odd to look at with such a grisly scar on his brow. “I am sorry.” All around him, the other Tribe cats relaxed, as if they had found lost kindred.

Feathertail looked up at him. “What happened to you?” she wondered. “Why were you exiled?”

Talon’s eyes darkened. “I am Talon of Swooping Eagle,” he introduced. Feathertail couldn’t help but wince – that name explained quite clearly where the tabby tom had gotten that horrible scar. “These are my companions – Jagged Rock Where Heron Sits, Rock Beneath Still Water, and Bird That Sings At Dusk.” He pointed to the large gray tom, the small brown tom, and the gray tabby she-cat respectively. “We were once part of the Tribe as well.”

“We sought an end to Sharptooth,” Jag meowed, curling his tail over his paws. “Stoneteller sent us to kill the creature before last freed-water…” The big tom frowned, looking down at the tattered fresh-kill before him.

“It was a disaster,” finished Bird. Her eyes turned sorrowful. “We lost two of our group, and it cost Rock his tail. When we returned to the Cave of Rushing Water, Stoneteller exiled us for our failure.”

Rock shifted self-consciously, hiding his stumpy tail from view. “We were declared dead,” he rasped, “and told never to return to Tribe lands. We’ve roamed together ever since.”

Feathertail’s heart ached. “How could Stoneteller do that to you?” she breathed. Stealing Stormfur was one thing – they were strangers - but she hadn’t imagined that the frail old cat could be so cruel to his own Tribemates. Clearly the others thought the same, from their shocked expressions. No Clan leader would react in such a way, that’s for sure!

Bird’s eyes sharpened. “Stoneteller has watched Tribemate after Tribemate die from Sharptooth’s wrath,” she meowed. “It is no shock to us that he has become harsh as a blizzard for it.”

Feathertail swallowed, glancing at the others. He’s desperate, then, she thought. Brook’s eyes, round and pleading for understanding, swam in her vision again. The whole Tribe is.

“What is Sharptooth?” Nightpaw asked, his eyes glowing in the dark. “No one’s told us yet.”

Jag shifted on his paws, his muzzle twitching. Talon seemed apprehensive, glancing at the others. It was Rock who spoke, his lip curled. “It is a Tribe legend, old as the stones of the mountains themselves – long ago, when the Tribe was yet young, before prey-hunter or cave-guard, a Tribe sharpclaw took a patrol into the mountains, seeking food to see the Tribe through a cruel frozen-water.”

Bird took up the story next, her eyes flashing: “That sharpclaw returned, covered in blood, alone. He had killed the rest of his patrol, and their remains were never found – and even when the snows cleared in freed-water the bones were gone. Some say he gave them to the darkness in the mountains, for strength.”

“Regardless, in all our tales darkness changed that sharpclaw,” Talon meowed, his voice low. Feathertail’s spine prickled, as if this story were something she shouldn’t be hearing. “He killed others to gain more power, and eventually he was exiled, swearing revenge on the Tribe for all time.”

“This is true?” Stoneteller wondered. Feathertail envied his composure. Trust a ShadowClan cat to be unafraid of stories like this!

Bird nodded her head. “It is – this Sharptooth, all Sharptooths, are descendants of that sharpclaw, driven to kill us by their bloodline.”

“They are not always a constant threat,” added Jag. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting keeps them at bay – but sometimes a Sharptooth grows strong enough to break through their protection, when darkness ebbs stronger in the world. This one has stalked the Tribe for four mountain seasons, moving closer and closer and picking us off more brazenly as it makes its way to the Cave of Rushing Water.”

Feathertail shivered, pressing close to Mistyfoot. She recalled her hunting expeditions with the Tribe cats and understood now that they had not just been on the lookout for eagles or hawks, but this Sharptooth as well. She thought of the strange, foul scent that had cut short one of the hunting trips, and of how desperate the Tribe cats been to flee to the safety of the Cave.

And then Spray died, she thought. She looked to the others – the same thoughts seemed to be occurring in her friends, a horror spreading from cat to cat. Sharptooth is practically outside the Cave of Rushing Water…

“A prey-hunter was killed close to the Cave,” Mistyfoot reported. “Spray.”

Bird’s eyes grew round, and she buried her muzzle into Jag’s pelt. Rock nudged her sympathetically. Feathertail’s heart ached – these cats had been exiled for moons, how many of their friends had died in that time?

Talon sighed, meowing, “Sharptooth is going to attack the Tribe in the Cave of Rushing Water. We are running out of time.”

Feathertail swallowed. The screams of the Tribe cats echoed in her mind. She could practically smell the blood, see the dead piling up… she could see Brook among them, lifeless and broken. Feathertail couldn’t suppress a whimper at the thought. It was too much to bear.

If it gets in, they’ll all die. Her stomach clenched. There’s nowhere to run in that cave. And Stormfur would die with them.

“I don’t understand!” Crowpaw declared, his eyes wide. “H-How can the Tribe think anyone can handle such a thing, let alone just Stormfur?”

“I do not know,” Jag admitted with a shrug. “Stoneteller is many things, but he is no murderer. Keeping your Clanmate is only guaranteeing their death.”

“Snow wouldn’t allow it, surely,” Bird added. “Even if Stoneteller was lost in grief, she has always seen sense!”

Shadepaw spoke up: “There is more to this than what you all know.”

All eyes turned to Shadepaw. Feathertail blinked at the medicine cat apprentice, recalling that she had seen something in the Cavern of Reflection.

Shadepaw swallowed, gathering herself. “While we were in the Cavern, I heard a prophecy from the Tribe of Endless Hunting - From whence the sun dies comes a storm that will cleanse the Tribe, they said.”

Talon narrowed his eyes, as best as his scar would allow. “And how did you spy upon our ancestors, little one?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

“I am a medicine cat apprentice in the Clans,” Shadepaw explained, raising her chin. “Comparable to a Stonteller’s apprentice. I see the signs from our ancestors, StarClan – but in my defense, I had not intended to spy on your ancestors. I saw what I saw, heard what I heard, and if the Tribe of Endless Hunting did not want me to do either…”

“They would have prevented it,” Rock guessed. He huffed, as if the Tribe of Endless Hunting’s ways were far beyond him.

Shadepaw nodded. She went on: “I saw a massive creature in the water; shaped like a cat but different in little ways. Big shoulders, round ears, massive teeth… There was a storm behind it. Lightning flashed, and the creature was dead, and then your ancestors spoke those words: From whence the sun dies comes a storm that will cleanse the Tribe.”

The cats in the cave went quiet. Feathertail could hear her own heart beating in her ears, and Mistyfoot voiced the realization surely going through every Clan cat’s mind: “We came from the sun-drown place, from where the sun ‘dies.’”

“It really meant Stormfur,” Feathertail murmured, her heart threatening to snap in two. She felt like the world was shaking beneath her, and she dug her claws into the stone to hold herself down.

“That can’t be true!” sputtered Crowpaw, his neck fur bristling even as his eyes were wide in anguish. “Stormfur is a Clan cat – he can’t be part of a Tribe prophecy!” He thrust his narrow muzzle into Shadepaw’s face. “You had to have seen something else!”

Shadepaw pressed her muzzle into his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t.”

Crowpaw’s entire body shivered, and he collapsed into Shadepaw.

“The Tribe ancestors sought an outsider to help them,” Stoneheart meowed, his voice low. “Same as StarClan sought an outsider to help our Clans, seasons ago.” His pale blue eyes, normally so level, were shot through with grief and worry.

“Tinystar never had to face a Sharptooth,” Mistyfoot murmured. “And he certainly wasn’t alone.”

Feathertail could hardly keep her vision straight. She buried her head in her paws, images of Stormfur facing Sharptooth playing rapid-fire in her mind. None of them resulted in her littermate standing triumphant over the monster’s body, and she made herself sick thinking of every different way Stormfur would die.

I brought him here to die. Feathertail felt utterly wretched. Oh StarClan, please don’t do this to me! It felt futile to call to her ancestors here, where only the Tribe spirits walked.

“I am sorry,” Talon murmured, looking down at her sympathetically. “The will of our ancestors is, at times, painful.”

“He’s my littermate,” Feathertail snapped back, raising her muzzle in defiance. She was trembling from ears to tail. “He’s my brother! He’s all I have! Your ancestors can’t take him from me, from us!”

Mistyfoot laid her tail along Feathertail’s shoulders, and she sank back down onto her belly. How can she be so calm about this? Feathertail felt anger well up at how collected Mistyfoot seemed – didn’t she love Stormfur at all? But then she felt her friend’s tail tremble, saw her legs shake. She’s trying so hard not to lose it like I am…

“Why are we all assuming Stormfur needs to die?” Feathertail looked up. Nightpaw had stepped forward, his ice-blue eyes flashing like lightning. He swung his muzzle around, staring each cat in the eye. “If Stormfur can’t handle Sharptooth on his own, then I say we help him!”

The Tribe exiles’ eyes flashed in surprise. “You would do that, little one?” Talon mewed, taken aback, “Even if it meant losing your own lives?”

“Stormfur’s fate is not entwined with yours any longer.” Bird pointed out. “Haven’t you your own task to complete?”

Mistyfoot’s eyes were resolute. “We do,” she agreed, “but we got to this point by sticking together – we will leave the same way. Stormfur is one of us, and we are not going to leave him behind.”

The strength, the conviction, the love in Mistyfoot’s words filled Feathertail’s heart. She got to her paws, glancing at the others. Stoneheart was nodding in agreement. Crowpaw had lifted his head, his eyes hard with determination. Shadepaw was flexing her claws, her eyes flickering in thought. Nightpaw raised his tail, nodding at Mistyfoot with admiration in his gaze. They were united, one in their goal to bring back Stormfur.

Like a Clan would be.

“We need a plan,” Nightpaw declared, looking proud of himself.

“Outright battle will get us all killed,” decided Jag.

“Us?” Talon blinked at Jag, whiskers twitching in amusement. “You mean to join them?”

“To save the Tribe? Of course,” Jag insisted. “What sort of life is this out here, away from home and family?”

Talon was quiet, for a moment. Bird and Rock glanced at him, as if his next words would decide their place in this, as well. Feathertail watched him carefully. Having their help would be nothing but a benefit – the more cats to fight Sharptooth the better, and these cats had experience in such an endeavor, even if it had ended in failure.

Finally, Talon decided, “It is no life at all.” He turned his eyes to the Clan cats, resting his gaze on Mistyfoot. “We are with you.”

“We are glad to have you,” Mistyfoot decided.

“Yes!” Nightpaw purred. He bounced on his paws. “Now, about that plan…”

Every cat shut their jaws. Looks of confusion and uncertainty passed over everyone’s face. Feathertail frowned. The unity was great and all, but if they couldn’t come up with a plan it would mean nothing. She wracked her brain – what could they possibly do to harm a Sharptooth? Everything she knew about the creature made it seem invulnerable. She hadn’t the faintest clue.

Shadepaw looked up. “I think I have an idea,” she meowed, her amber eyes bright. “StarClan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting willing, it works…”

#tb au #tb moonrise

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