#but it's a caffeine-filled ruse

[drabbles-mc]

Don’t Worry

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Request by Anon:  Can I request a Javi/reader fic where they both refuse to admit their feelings for each other, but reader thinks she's doing a great job concealing health issues, but Javi starts to pick up on things (maybe she almost faints in the field), and he gets worried and realizes how much he cares for her? So he confronts her about hiding it from him, and she says she didn't want him to think she was weak?

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking, light angst

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Me?? Getting wrapped up in a request and making it far longer than necessary? It’s more likely than you think. Truly don’t know how we ended up almost at 5k, but I hope you enjoy! xo

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @garbinge​ @sizzlingcloudmentality​ @bruxasolta​ @winchestershiresauce​ @alm0501​ @panagiasikelia​ @616wilsons​ @hauntedforsst​ @mirabee​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @boomclapxox​ @nessamc​​ @southotheborder​​ @supersanelyromantic​​ @padbrookcottage​​ (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!)

“Morning,” Javi’s voice snapped you out of your singular focus on the photographs that were in front of you.

Looking up at him, you flashed him a smile, “Morning.”

He set a small cup of coffee down on your desk, “You even go home last night?”

You laughed as you picked up the coffee, thankful for the comforting warmth seeping through the flimsy paper despite the fact that Colombia never had a shortage of heat, “I did. Pretty much just to shower and change my clothes, but I did go home.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “You work too hard,” it was a light-hearted comment, but you could see the concern in his expression.

Ignoring that look in his eyes, you came back with as genuine of a smile as you could manage in your exhausted state and, “Yea, well, one of us around here has to.”

Whether that actually soothed his concern for the time being or he was just willing to pretend, you couldn’t tell. But he took his seat at his desk kitty-corner to yours. You got back to your work as he started on some of his own reports. The entire room was silent save for the sound of the clacking of Javier’s typewriter. Every now and then you’d look over to watch him, biting back a laugh at the look of intense focus on his face. Over the last few weeks, you’d gotten on his case a few different times about learning how to properly use the thing, but he always waved you off, saying he had way more important things to worry about than the proper positioning of his hands on a typewriter.

“Probably could’ve had those finished last night if you learned how to type faster,” you said, not peeling your eyes away from the pictures in front of you.

Even though you weren’t looking at him, you could still feel him staring at you, and you could just imagine the look of faux annoyance on his face. Try as he might, he couldn’t ever convince you that he was frustrated with you when he wasn’t—you had too much experience seeing him actually pissed off at other people to fall for the ruse.

“Then I’d have no excuse to come in early and see you,” he replied, a beat of stillness between you before he went back to typing.

A smile crept across your face and you tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks, “And here I was thinking you just wanted to be sweet and bring me coffee.”

Whether or not Javier had a response locked and loaded was irrelevant as Steve’s voice filled the air, “Javi never wants to be sweet and bring me coffee.”

“I think you both should be bringing me coffee for putting up with you,” you smiled, shaking your head as the two of them started to go back and forth with each other.

It was a quiet day. For as much as quiet days made it seem like there was no headway being made, you couldn’t pretend that the brief respite wasn’t much needed for you. You put on a good game face, but the constant late nights and early mornings, coupled with surviving on caffeine, alcohol, and nicotine weren’t doing anything to help the issues that you had coming into Colombia. You tried not to think about it, not wanting to harp on it or say anything to anyone that could jeopardize you sticking around, but you wondered how much more damage you were putting on yourself as the weeks went by. Changing up habits seemed so easy to do in theory, but nothing was consistent enough with work for you to get into a real routine.

Taking a slow, deep breath, you glanced over at the clock on the wall. Your eyes widened, unable to believe how quickly the day had gone by. It was well past dinner time now, and aside from the coffee that Javier had brought you, and a couple of the snacks that you kept stashed in your desk, you hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Your brain must’ve communicated directly with your stomach, because it let out an obscenely loud growl.

Steve had his headphones on, playing back a tape that had gotten dropped off earlier that evening, so he was blissfully unaware. Javier, however, didn’t miss a beat. He tried and failed to stifle his laughter, keeping his eyes glued to the paperwork in front of him.

You chuckled, “Can I help you, Javi?”

Shaking his head, he continued to peruse over his papers, although you doubted that he was even really reading any of it, “No, sounds like you should be helping yourself, though.”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair as you ran your hands over your face, “Yea, I guess I should get some real food to eat.”

“Gonna head out for the night?” he finally looked at you, a strangely hopeful look in his eyes at the prospect of you leaving and getting some rest.

After thinking it over for a few seconds, you gave a nod, “Yea, I might as well.”

Tossing the papers in his hand back onto his desk, he started to gather up his things, “I’ll walk out with you.”

Steve watched the two of you, still not able to hear what you were saying to each other. He couldn’t speak for you and how you felt, but he knew for a fact that Javier had feelings for you. Being stuck in the same little cluster of desks with both of you meant that he saw everything. Every time Javi stared at you a beat longer than necessary, every time he saw you smiling or heard you laughing and couldn’t help but to smile himself regardless of what mood he was in. Steve saw every little gesture and worried look that Javier had ever shot your way.

And, since he was the one stuck witnessing it all, he didn’t make any attempt to hide his thoughts and opinions from the man sitting across from him. In the rare moments when it was just the two of them instead of the three of you, Steve took every opportunity to press him about it. Javier always brushed it off, of course, but it didn’t stop Steve from being persistent about it.

Which is why, while your back was to them both as you headed towards the door, Steve gave a very pointed look between you and Javi, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. Javi knew what he was thinking, and even though Steve was 100% right, he still gave him the finger before grabbing his jacket and playing catchup to get to you.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you made your way towards the parking lot. When it came to Javi, there was never any pressure to force a conversation, and that was something that was one of the most valuable aspects of a friendship for you. If you didn’t have anything to say, or just didn’t have the energy and wherewithal to converse, you didn’t want to feel like you had to suck it up and try anyway. Between the two of you, there had been a lot of silent walks, comfortably quiet cups of coffee, and the occasional shared late-night meal at your desks with minimal exchanges. The less you spoke, the better, for more than one reason. There were times when you felt like maybe there was more to be said and done about your relationship with Javi, but it wasn’t a sure enough thing for you to be the one to make the first move, and because of that, there were plenty of times when you almost slipped up and said something incriminating.

All of that to say, you felt Javier staring at you as the two of you made your way towards your cars, and part of you wanted to speak up and say something, but you stopped yourself. You knew he worried, and you chalked the worry up to him not wanting to lose a partner, not wanting to give yourself too much hope for anything deeper.

“Wanna grab dinner?” he tossed the question out as he fished his keys from his pocket.

It caught you a little off-guard, figuring that he just wanted to go straight home, “Sure?”

He chuckled, “Do you? Don’t sound so sure about that.”

“Sorry,” you laughed, shaking your head, “Just thought that maybe you’d want to get right home.” Truthfully, you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just curl up in your bed and fall asleep. You didn’t want to say that, though, not when he had already been giving you concerned looks. “Dinner sounds good,” you smiled and nodded.

Dinner wasn’t anything fancy—it never was with the two of you. It was cozy, though. Despite the late hour, there were a decent number still in the small, family-owned restaurant. Oddly enough the number of people gave you the illusion of privacy—everyone was too wrapped up with each other to bother looking at or thinking about the two of you. It was preferable for both of you that way.

Despite the fact that you felt about twenty times better once you ate something, you could still feel the nagging weight of exhaustion deep in your bones. You tried to push that fact from your mind as you reached for your glass of water, but you noticed the trembling in your hand as you did so. You tried to do it quickly, hoping that it would go unnoticed by the man sitting across from you. the furrow in his brows said that you had no such luck, but he didn’t say anything. You were going to take that as a win.

“I got this,” Javi gestured vaguely to the table as he flagged down the waitress to square up the bill.

You shook your head, reaching for your purse, “Javi, no. At least split it with me.”

He shook his head, “It’s fine. Next one is on you—get home and get some rest.” It was the closest he was going to get to addressing his concerns for you without actually having to say it.

As much as you wanted to press the argument, the thought of getting home and straight to bed was a thought that was too tempting to put off. Taking a deep breath, you nodded as you stood up, “Thank you. You said it yourself, though—next one is on me.”

He gave you a small smirk, “Alright.”

“Goodnight, Javi.”

“Night,” he flashed you a quick smile before you turned and started walking away.

You were halfway out the door when you heard the distinctive sound of a sat-phone going off. You paused, turning around to see Javier looking very confused as he answered his. You could barely hear what he was saying over the conversations of other people, but you saw the shift in his expression and all it said to you was that neither of you were going to be making it home to sleep anytime soon.

He looked up, glad to see that you had stopped in the doorway. He motioned for you to wait for him as he hung up the phone. He tossed a small stack of bills onto the table, definitely more than enough to cover both of your meals and a generous tip, before grabbing his jacket and making his way towards you.

“Good news?” you asked as the two of you hustled to your cars.

“Depends on your definition of good,” he let out a dry chuckle before gesturing towards his car, “Just ride with me. I’ll bring you back to your car after.”

“Yea?”

He nodded, “Yea. I drive faster anyway,” he shot you a smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but to smile as you walked around to the passenger seat, “We gotta show up to this thing alive and in one piece, you know.”

“Don’t worry about that,” there was a glint in Javi’s eyes as he threw the car into drive.

As much as you liked to give Javi grief about his driving, he did get you both to the scene in record time. Steve was already there with Carrillo and a select group of men from the Search Bloc. You’d hardly stepped out of the car when Steve came over, throwing vests at the two of you. It was standard procedure for these types of things, but the abruptness of it still startled you for a moment.

You didn’t miss the look on Steve’s face as he registered that the two of you carpooled, but it clearly wasn’t the time or the place for him to make a comment about it. Getting himself together, he started to explain the entire situation to the both of you.

It wasn’t Escobar—you didn’t come into that kind of luck. But apparently they’d gotten a more than decent tip about the location of one of his top sicarios, and that wasn’t something any of you were in the position to be turning your noses up at. It was going to take weeding through a lot of Escobar’s network to get to him, and this would be a good step in the right direction.

“All good here?” Carrillo approached the three of you, his gaze scrutinizing as always. It stopped feeling personal a long time ago, but you still didn’t necessarily like it.

Steve answered before either you or Javi could, “All good. Let’s get this done.”

That was good enough for the colonel, a man who wanted all of this shit over with and settled more than anyone else in present company. He motioned for the three of you to follow him, giving out directions as he walked. You tried to focus on your breathing, the adrenaline and anxiety of the situations never exactly getting easier to deal with as time went on, but you still handled them. Once you were in it, there was no getting out.

“You two are with Trujillo and his men—go around back and up the stairs inside the house,” Carrillo gestured to you and Javi before turning to Steve, “Murphy, you’re with me and my men. We’re covering the front and heading in that way.”

There was no room for argument as you all split off. You wiped your hands against the fabric of your jeans, hoping to alleviate the clamminess. Javi caught the small gesture, speaking in a near-whisper as he asked, “Good?”

You nodded, responding just as quietly, “Good,” it wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. You weren’t going to sit this out, though. Not by a longshot.

Trujillo quietly and quickly rattled off instructions to his small cluster of men, telling them to make sure they had every window and possible exit covered, to keep an eye on the neighboring houses just in case. Then he turned his attention to you and Javi and one of his other men, explaining quickly how he wanted you all to disperse and cover the house. If everything went according to plan, your target was going to end up cornered by not only you, but Carrillo’s squad as well.

The house was far from quiet as you made your way inside, which worked better for all of you in some aspects, and made things more difficult on other fronts. As long as no one accidentally discharged a weapon of fell down a flight of stairs, there was no way that anyone inside was going to hear all of you stealthily making your way through the house.

You cleared the bottom floor with no issues. It was hard to believe that any of the sicarios would be staying anywhere alone, so whoever was in the house must’ve been congregating on the second floor. Carrillo took the lead on the stairs, gesturing silently for how he wanted you all to divide and conquer the rest of the house.

Your heart was pounding inside your chest as you and Javier made your way into one of the rooms nearest the stairs. You covered him as he walked in, legs feeling more and more like jello with every step. Moments like that it was hard to tell whether or not your body was responding to the situation at hand, or trying to cope with all the other things you had to contend with. Either way, it wasn’t ideal and you tried not to think about it, which proved difficult in such intense moments.

“Clear,” Javi said it loud enough for you to hear but not loud enough to alert anyone else who might be lurking in the house.

You were both on your way to exiting the room when there was a commotion down the hall. Immediately you each raised your weapons, and the anxiety coursing through you only increased when you heard gunshots from the other end of the floor.

“Out the side window!” Steve’s voice echoed down the hall and without hesitation both you and Javi sprinted back into the room that you’d just exited.

He wasted no time at all flinging the window open. He holstered his weapon just long enough to climb out of it and onto the tiniest and most unsafe balcony in Colombia, if not the world. It was a short jump from there to the roof of the shorter building right next door. Before you could even formulate a thought, Javier jumped and was off and running. Just the thought of standing and jumping off the railing made you dizzy, but there wasn’t an alternative at this point. No way you were going to hang back and just hope for the best.

Your legs were shaking the entire time, but you made the jump, covering ground as quickly as you could to catch up to Javier and Carrillo as they booked it through the heaviest, hottest night air you’d ever encountered. The sounds of footsteps against the metal rooftops rang through the night, any thoughts of being quiet or stealthy having gone out the window the second your target had.

It wasn’t too long until you heard another commotion of grunting and cussing. There weren’t any gunshots, which was reassuring to you only because it meant that neither Javi or the colonel took a bullet. You caught up to them quickly, gun at the ready as you practically skidded to a stop. Everyone in present company was slicked with sweat, chests heaving. You, Javi, and Carrillo at least had the good fortune of still being upright. Meanwhile, the sicario that you’d been chasing was face down with Carrillo’s knee digging into his back, Javi standing close by with his gun pointed at the man’s head in case he tried to make things more difficult than they were worth.

You knew that Carrillo was talking to the man that he was currently cuffing and yanking up by the collar of his shirt, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around what he was saying. All of your energy went into focusing on the scene playing out in front of you, and you just hoped that it didn’t show too clearly on your face.

The thing that really got you to zero in was the sound of Carrillo saying your name. You snapped to attention the best you could, “Yea?”

“Need two agents with me to bring them to Bogotá. You and Peña.”

You were nodding before you even realized what you were agreeing to, “Done.”

All of your thoughts were muddled as you trailed behind them, all of you eventually making your way back to the street. Part of you was surprised that Carrillo didn’t simply just push the man off the low roof—broken bones a small price to pay compared to the ends some of the other sicarios met.

Apparently the reason that Steve hadn’t joined the chase with the rest of you was because he had managed to get the other man who was in the house. You watched both he and Carrillo all but toss them into the back of the vehicle. You were completely zoned out when you get someone’s hand wrap gently around your bicep.

“Hey,” Javi’s voice was quiet.

You looked at him, doing your best to look more with it than you felt, “Yea?”

“You sure you’re good to go to Bogotá?” the worry in his eyes made your stomach twist up even more.

You nodded, “I’m good.”

“Your hands are still shaking,” he didn’t even look down, already knowing he was right.

You stuffed them into your pockets like that would change what he’d already seen, “It’s just been a long night. Shit like this always gives me jitters—you know that.”

His brows furrowed, “Maybe you should just—”

“I said I’m fine, Peña,” you snapped, “I can take care of myself.”

It wasn’t often that you called him by his last name when it was just the two of you, and whether or not he wanted to admit it, it definitely stung. He recoiled slightly, knowing that he wasn’t going to win the argument with you, “Alright.”

He started walking away, and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding. Pulling your shaking hands from your pockets, you buried your face in them for a moment as you tried to pull yourself together. You didn’t want any of these guys seeing you break, especially not at a time like this.

“All good?” Steve saw the frustrated look on Javier’s face and couldn’t figure out why he would be looking like that at a time like this.

“Fuckin’ great,” the bite in his tone was palpable as he pulled out and lit a cigarette.

It was a tense, quiet ride to the base, followed by more of the same on the helicopter ride to Bogotá. It was the only time that not talking with Javi ever felt wrong. The only saving grace from what would’ve been awkward silence, was the fact that the last thing Carrillo ever wanted to do was make unnecessary conversation. The silence could be chalked up to that and the fact that it had been an insanely long night.

You still felt Javi looking at you, though. Even if you tried to lie to yourself about it, you felt bad for snapping at him. It wasn’t the time or the place to get into all of it, and really it wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have until you felt a little better, whenever that would end up being. But the small hours of the morning as you were unloading sicarios for future interrogations at a holding station in Bogotá was not the right time. If someone had asked you to recount any of the conversations you’d had or information you’d received or given in that stretch of time, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them. But however things played out, you must’ve said and done the right things because soon enough you were being dismissed. They put you all up for the night, knowing that in a few short hours you’d all be back for interrogations. Carrillo wasted no time in taking off to finally put the day to rest, leaving just you and Javier walking down the steps of the station.

Just as you were reaching the bottom of the steps, the last of your adrenaline ran out. The slight shake in your legs turned into them giving way beneath you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It felt like you were falling in slow motion as you tried to get ready to brace yourself, knowing that catching yourself was out of the question. But before you fell all the way to the ground, you felt Javi’s arms quickly wrap around you.

“Fuck,” the word fell quietly from your lips as you tried to brace yourself against him, thankful that you were falling into him rather than the unforgiving ground beneath you.

“Shit,” he did his best to get you fully upright again, his arm wrapped tight around your waist for support, “I got you.”

“Thanks,” you tried to focus, but your light-headedness was back with a vengeance as the two of you stood there on the sidewalk together, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the worry in his tone let you know that it was definitely not fine, “Let’s just get you home.”

You let out a dry chuckle as you forced one foot in front of the other, still leaning heavily against the man next to you, “Home? That’s a ways away, isn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes, unable to believe that your sarcasm was still present at a time like this, “Sounded better than saying hotel.”

You managed to sort of find your footing as the two of you made the short walk to the hotel, but despite you being a little steadier, Javier’s arm didn’t leave your waist. You didn’t bring it up, not wanting him to think that you minded it.

Javier walked with you to your room, and you could see it in his eyes that despite the way the day had gone, he wasn’t going to leave until he got to talk to you about everything. With a sigh, you attempted to beat him to the punch, “Javi, look, I just—”

“You gotta tell me what’s going on with you,” he cut you off with a shake of his head, “You shouldn’t have fuckin’ been out there today. You definitely shouldn’t be here.”

The pity drained out of you as you sat on the edge of your bed, too exhausted to stand for the argument, “Fuck you—you don’t get to tell me where I should and shouldn’t be.”

“I do if it means that it’s gonna keep you alive. What if you collapsed like that back at the house? What then?”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could’ve!” he shook his head and instinctively patted his pockets in search of a pack of cigarettes but came up empty, “What the hell is going on with you?”

“If you’re just worried that I’m gonna keel over out there,” you gestured vaguely at the window in your room, “don’t. I’m not gonna—”

“I’m worried about you!” he snapped, “I’ve been worried about you. I’ve been waiting for you to fuckin’ say something to me about it and you haven’t.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask?” you shot back, knowing full well that wasn’t the point of the argument.

“Because I thought that maybe you’d just trust me enough to tell me,” his voice was markedly softer than he was a few moments before.

The exhaustion and the emotional weight of the conversation made you want to sink completely into the mattress. Running your hand back over your head, you sighed, “I do trust you. I just. I couldn’t have you thinking that I’m weak. I can’t have those other assholes at the base, or the embassy, thinking that I can’t hack this. I can. I will. I’ve been dealing with this shit my whole life—I’m gonna be alright. But you gotta admit that the last couple of months have taken a toll on everyone. It’s just…more obvious with me.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” he shook his head, “I think you’re fuckin’ stubborn, and frustrating, and don’t know when to give yourself a goddamn break—”

“Must be why we get along so well,” you chimed in with a tired chuckle.

“But I also think you’re smart, and dedicated, and one of the only people left on this team with a decent fuckin’ moral compass and a good sense of humor,” he peeled his eyes up from the carpet to look at you, “And you can’t expect me to just sit back and let you run yourself into the ground.”

“Javier—”

He sat down next to you, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee as he spoke, “Just promise me that you’ll be honest with me about this. I’m not gonna say anything to anyone, but you need to let me help you. I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

The warmth seeping from his palm through your jeans was enough to make you temporarily forget about the tiredness taking over your body. Shaking your head slightly, you rested your hand on top of his, “You’re not gonna lose me, Javi,” you let out a quiet laugh as you leaned against his side, “I’m too stubborn, remember?” you let your head drop to rest on his shoulder, and you felt his body relax at the small gesture.

He huffed out a soft laugh, a smile tugging at his lips in spite of all the other emotions coursing through him, “Right.”

#narcos #javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #narcos netflix #narcos fanfiction #narcos netflix fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[some-cookie-crumbz]

A Little Charismatic

A Little Charismatic Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: FuyuPress Summary: FuyuPress Week 2021 Day 1 Prompt Fill: Life Swap - Never said who had to swap lives and I’m running on too little sleep and too much caffeine to stay in the lines. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Sako Atsuhiro liked to consider himself an observant fellow, if not also a bit of a creature of habit. He had a handful of places that he enjoyed frequenting, where he knew his face was safe. He could walk about in his usual work garb, with or without his mask and hat, and none of the other patrons would bat an eye. It wasn’t because the company he found in these places was particularly trustworthy or noble sorts, however; oh, no, they were far from that. He had just taken the time to establish that, despite his seemingly frail physique, he was not a force to be tested. He was always watching, always vigilant, watching to make sure that men conducted themselves like proper gents in the company of potential romantic partners. And if not? Well, he may have done a sleight of hand trick to remove a wandering hand or two.

It wasn’t often that there were new faces wandering around his usual haunts, so when there were, he noticed. That night was one such example.

She’d been settled at the bar when he walked in, another bar patron already trying to get cuddly with her. Judging by the glower in those bright baby blues, she was less than impressed. She was an odd one to place as Atsuhiro moved past them, her eyes straying from her suitor to chase him instead. Ah, that was unsurprising. Many a woman’s eyes had wandered over him, taking his attire to mean he must be some brand of wealthy and useful. They’d come over and start up with the fluttering lashes and slow, playful touches while asking for a drink.

It was always entertaining to watch how their expressions shifted when he insisted they have separate tabs.

It took her a full ten minutes to shake the guy she was dealing with at the bar, but once she’d gotten him off, she approached. “This seat taken?” she asked, her hands laced behind her back and head tilted to one side. He chuckled as he sized her up, taking in the leather jacket tossed over a halter dress and combat boots. The damn thing was incredibly low cut and he was quick to avert his eyes, instead taking a sip of the beer in his hands.

“Not at all,” he hummed, indicating the booth seat across from him with the wave of a hand.

She offered him a polite bow before settling into the seat, a nice change of pace. Usually the women that approached would slide in beside him first go, but she seemed to have some iota of manners, at least. “You are a difficult man to track, you know,” she mused slowly, “Mr. Compress.” He froze mid-sip to stare at her, doing his best to keep the shock from showing on his face. Very few knew of his moniker, even when he was out and about in his full regalia, so for her to address him so matter-of-factly… She was a threat and would need to be disposed of. As if sensing the bleak thoughts running through his head, she held her hands up in a placating manner to him. “Don’t worry, I’m not a narc. Or affiliated with one. I don’t think many of the people around here are, in fact.”

“Whatever it is you are trying to play at, dear, you are wasting your time,” he quipped, turning his attention away from her to the bar keep. He seemed to be more focused on a loud, clearly drunk man arguing the merits of his tab, thankfully.

He kept her in his peripheral view, though. Just in case.

She blinked before her face morphed to show hurt. “So quick to disregard me… Ah, that seems to be a trend with men in my life,” she lamented with a long-suffering sigh. He got the distinct impression that most of her behavior was an act. One of her legs shifted out to prod at the side of his calf gently, trying to coax him to look at her again. “Won’t you at least hear me out?”

He scoffed but did return his attention to her. It was the least he could do and might yet yield some further information to help him discern her authentic intentions. “There is no reason to do so outside of wasting both our time,”

“What about a game, then? You seem like a man who fancies a fun game,” she suggested.

A game? Well… He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the hand she was laying down. “Depending on what the wager is, I may be inclined to humor you,”

“Here,” she shifted to rummage through her jacket pockets. After a moment, she dropped three items onto the tabletop between them; a lighter, a small vial of some kind of liquid, and a yarn and bead bracelet. With the items spread out, she picked up the bracelet and dangled it off her index finger, before indicating the other two items with her free hand. “Use your Quirk to put these three items away. Only one of them - this one here - is of any value to me. If I can get this one back from you, you’ll agree to comply with the request I have for you.” When she spoke, she waggled her index finger to attract his attention to the bracelet briefly, before dropping her chin into her other hand.

He blinked owlishly, contemplating her game. It was in his favor, yes, but then it became a question of what she could offer him in return. “And if you are unsuccessful?”

“I’ll comply with a request of yours. No limits,” she drawled the last two words out in a leading way, her fingers lightly drumming away along her own jawline. He wrinkled his nose a bit at her implication, but found it could be a rather useful trap. After all, there would be no indication as to which marble held what once he used his Quick to compress them. Only he would be able to say for certain, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t easily swap them around if she picked the right one. There was much more to gain in this than he had to lose. “So, what do you say?” She stuck her hand out towards him, beaded bracelet still hanging on.

“Very well,” he said, taking her hand for a brief shake before sliding the bracelet off. Judging by the yarn on it, the thing was old and may be in dire need of some new yarn or replacing outright. He waved the thought off as he compressed it and then set to doing the same to the other two items. Under the table, he was sure to shuffle them around, placing the marble with her bracelet in the back pocket of his pants. He waited until she stepped away to get a drink to make that adjustment, sly grin on his lips. There was no way she’d be able to determine it was there as he wouldn't present it as an option, and then he could easily be rid of her. “There we are now. Just be aware, however, that I am very wise to the tricks a young minx like you is prone to attempting.”

“Is that so?” she hummed.

From there, they started up a fun little back and forth. He tried to get more answers to why, exactly, she knew his street moniker and why she’d been looking for him, but she flitted about the subjects using redirection. It was Take-aPenny, Leave-a-Penny logic she was trying to enact and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. It was clear she had some kind of experience with this kind of situation, with having to negotiate ones hand without tipping it too much. A flurry of questions came to his mind at the thought. She was such a young, demure young lady once she was engaged in a conversation. Something about those mannerisms and the idea of her living her whole life on the streets simply didn’t add up quite right to him.

It did, however, give him a fun little mystery to chase around.

After a good while she shifted to sit more upright, hands folded neatly in front of her. Her eyes were alight with mirth as she repositioned herself. “Well, I think that’s enough of that. I came here to accomplish a goal, not play footsie all night,” She stretched languidly and her gaze shifted from his face down lower, giggling a bit at what she saw.

He blinked twice before glancing downward himself and uttering a small short curse.

His eyes widened as he suddenly registered what, exactly, she’d been playing at all along. A glance downwards revealed a layer of ice sticking to the outer traces of his body, over his legs, hips and wrists specifically. Given that he was wearing his full gear minus his mask, of course he hadn’t noticed the change in temperature! She must have been assessing him during their conversation, skirting about with her verbal distraction while leaking small traces of her Quirk to gauge his reaction... 

A clever ruse that he’d fallen into with regrettable ease.

“What in the devil did you do?” he spat, keeping his voice low as his eyes scanned the bar. No one else had noticed their exchange, thankfully. The last thing he needed was other hooligans taking advantage of this situation.

She tilted her head with a feigned innocence. “Hmm? What’s wrong? Don’t like that I used my Quirk too?” The faux concern melted into a mischievous grin of delight as she moved from her perch across from him to sit beside him. She nudged the chunk of ice pinning his legs down with the toe of her boot as she settled in nice and close. “I never said that it was against the rules, you know. And it’s only fair that if you got to use yours, I get to use mine. Wouldn’t that be the gentleman’s viewpoint on this matter?” Her tone was light and playful, but he could cast the mocking wisps underlying her words. Without further preamble, she reached over to rummage through his coat pockets as well as the pockets of his slacks, humming to herself as she ignored his quiet snarls to cease her actions. She leaned back just a bit once she gathered seven marbles in total, swirling one in a circle in her palm. “Ah, there’s more in these pockets of yours than just what’s mine. How uncouth! Scandalous even!”

He tried to twist himself free but the ice pinned up along his wrists and hips didn’t budge an inch. Not even a thin crack was visible, to his uncensored chagrin. “What game are you playing at, wretch?”

“Just the game we agreed to,” she hummed. She peered at his marbles with an appraising eye before stuffing them into the pocket of her tattered denim shorts instead. “Since I’m the obvious winner here, I guess that means you have no choice but to abide by my rule, hm?”

“Name your damn price, then,” he growled lowly.

She giggled and leaned closer, walking two fingers up along his chest to his face. “You’re going to come with me to have a meeting. With. My. Boss,” Each of her final few words was followed by a mocking tap to the tip of his nose. If he could move his hands, he would have firmly shoved her from his personal space, but instead settled for jerking his head to the side. It only made her Cheshire grin grow wider. He could almost see a feline tail swaying in delight behind her, he swore. “He has a very… prosperous job opportunity for you. One that I think you’ll be very much inclined to take.” 

This young woman was dangerous, and he was unclear if that was unappealing to him or not.

#My Hero Academia #FuyuPress #Mr. Compress #Sako Atsuhiro #Todoroki Fuyumi #FuyuPress Week 2021 #my fics #I am surprisingly pleased with this one #All things considered

[easyobsession]

Somewhere Only We Know

“You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

A Spinning Out fic.

A/N: A few things to get straight: what little knowledge I have about the Olympics, the Village, and ice skating in general is very limited and based solely on what I can find online. Please go easy on me; I’m new to this world. Most of my research for Beijing’s Games is speculation based on past Winter Olympics combined with me also making some of it up.

Also, as we know, we only got one season of this amazing show. While I have done my fair share of research (aka watched every Katstin scene an embarrassing amount of times), if you don’t remember some of the smaller details I mention it’s quite possibly because I made them up. Bare with me and go with it. I’m doing my best.

-

She’s been staring at the ceiling for nearly two hours. She knows this because in those two hours, Kat Baker has looked at the clock more times than she can count. But she’s done her best to stay still and focus on sleep, because if ever a good reason to need a solid night’s rest, this is it. Plus, she isn’t alone.

But it’s been nearly two hours. And after feeling her bedmate shift for the third time in less than ten minutes, she can’t help herself.

“Are you awake?” she speaks softly in case she’s wrong.

“Yes.” Justin’s voice comes so instantaneously it’s obvious he has been for a while. He rolls over onto his side to face her, clearly fed up with the charade. “I know we’re supposed to be too excited to sleep or whatever, but I figured jet lag and exhaustion would kick in eventually.”

Kat sighs. “I don’t think I can lay here anymore.”

“Screw it. Let’s go walk around or something. Get some food. I don’t know,” He shrugs, “Everything is open 24/7 here. Might as well take advantage of it.”

Kat bites at her lip. They have practice tomorrow at 9am sharp and Dasha will kill them if they’re stumbling around exhausted, but she’s so stir crazy right now she can’t bring herself to care.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They both dress quickly and head for the door, remembering to grab their ID badges from the nightstand and doing their best to remain silent as they slip through the common room. Their hands find each other in the elevator as they depart from the ninth floor, and they both give a courteous nod to security as they exit the dorm.

February in Beijing is beautiful, and despite being nothing more than a glorified college campus, the Olympic Village somehow still manages to blow both Kat and Justin’s minds. With a large handful of sky-high dormitories divided up by country, the Village is filled with basic amenities like a post office, bank, laundry facility, a convenience store, several gyms, and a huge cafeteria containing cuisine from around the world at every hour of the day.

Kat and Justin have been here for eight days so far. The first two days were spent getting settled with the other Team USA skaters and personnel, the third day they participated in the Opening Ceremony, and the remaining time has been spent using their allotted practice sessions, hitting the gym for light workouts, and enjoying the experience. They’ve also seen a few events, which is a highlight, and done a couple interviews (Dasha promises there are more to come- super) and some press work.

Mostly though, they’ve been staying close and trying to remain in a good headspace. Their competition begins in three days and their families arrive tomorrow, so for the most part they’re taking Dasha’s advice and focusing on each other.

“This is yours to lose,” she’d said. “Don’t over-think anything. Just stick together and enjoy it.”

This probably isn’t what she meant, but whatever.

After leaving the dorms behind, the duo makes the short walk into the heart of the Village, the nightlife scene far more alive than some might expect. The Village is open 24 hours a day for a reason. Some athletes prefer to train in the later hours, jetlag affecting a large amount, and some seem to need an escape to rid themselves of the jitters. One thing is clear though: everyone is tense. It’s like a university during finals- the pressure is on and everyone is feeling it.

“We should probably skip the caffeine, but how ‘bout hot chocolate?” Justin proposes, their linked hands swaying between them as they approach the commissary.

Kat nods. As much as a huge cup of coffee sounds appealing right now, he’s right. With any luck they’ll hopefully be able to manage at least a few hours of shuteye after this little excursion and a latte screams bad call.

After getting two steaming cups of cocoa (caramel in hers- she’d agreed to forgo the caffeine, not the sugar) they find an empty bench just far enough off the main pathway for a bit of privacy. So far it’s been a blast meeting and getting to know the other athletes from around the world, including several of Kat and Justin’s personal idols, but two AM just isn’t the hour preferred for socializing.

For a while they sit in silence, enjoying the peace and tranquility and the rare chance to people-watch the night owls between sips from their respective biodegradable cups.

“Feeling any sleepier?” Justin questions finally, causing the brunette under his arm to sigh.

“Will you judge me if I say that I’m even more awake than before?”

Justin lets out a curse. “I was hoping it was just me.”

“Gotta love Olympic life,” she ruses, “Well, I’m not going to the gym.”

“Fuck that,” he agrees. They’ve been practicing nonstop as it is. Neither of them is in the mood to ruin what little free time they do have, especially since Dasha never shuts up about the importance of not overdoing it.

“I don’t know. Nothing sounds appealing.” Kat continues, “But I don’t want to just sit here all night.”

For a moment silence falls again until Justin begins to fidget, shifting in his seat and catching her attention.

“What?” she demands, the look in his eye giving him away just like always.

“Nothing.” He quickly dismisses, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m an idiot. Forget it.”

Kat rolls her eyes. “I know you’re an idiot,” she teases, “You’re my idiot though, which means I’m privy to all of your idiocy.”

“Seriously Kat, drop it. It was a dumbass thought. Let it go.”

“Hey,” the change of tone in his voice causes her to pull back, finding his eyes. Clearly he’s getting upset about something. “Talk to me.”

Justin stares at her for a minute. “You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

Silence.

“What?” It takes all of Kat’s strength not to screech the word. “Are you- what?”

“I said it was dumb!”

“It’s the middle of the night.” she sputters. “Our families aren’t here. We’ve only been together-”

“What feels like forever sometimes,”

Kat gives him a dirty look. “Really? You’re choosing now to fuck around?”

He raises his hands in defense.

“Look, it was just something that popped in my head.”

“Of all the possibilities, this was the random thought you had?”

Justin glances toward the ground, causing her eyes to go wide.

“This isn’t the first time?” Kat pauses, her voice finally falling back down to its regular decibel. “You’ve thought about this before?”

“Have I thought about marrying you?” Justin snorts, giving up on his hesitance as the insanity of the situation triggers brutal honesty. “I’m 25, Kat, and I’ve been in love with you longer than the two years we’ve been together. Yes, I’ve thought about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says quickly. “I don’t have a binder filled with details or anything. It’s just something I’ve thought about, that’s all.”

This seems to catch her attention.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You probably don’t want something too big or flashy. Which is awesome, because while my dad will lose his shit and it’ll drive Mandy nuts, I’m actually on board with small and simple. And I know you’ll kill me if I spend too much on the ring, which is the one thing I already have covered-”

“You have it covered?” she interrupts. “Like what, you’ve already bought it?”

He pauses for a minute, staring at her before letting out a sigh.

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Justin, seriously, I swear to fucking god-”

“Fine!” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Just give me ten minutes. Stay here.”

“Stay here? Where are you going?” she wants to hit him when he rises from the bench. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Stay here!” He repeats.

“Fuck off!” she cries, yet for some reason her ass remains glued to her seat.

The following ten minutes pass in a slow blur, because what the actual fuck? Ironically it isn’t their relationship, but the fact that they’re skating for Olympic medals in three days that assures her he wouldn’t just leave her sitting in the middle of the Village like a moron, when Justin returns with his hands in his pockets, looking even more nervous than when he left. (Which is understandable, because there’s at least a 50% chance this could lead to his death.)

He lets out a breath as he sits back down next to her, finally revealing his hands and holding up a respectably sized (but not too gaudy) ruby in a band of gold. He places the ring in the palm of her hand, giving a small shrug.

“It was my mom’s.” he explains quietly. “I’ve had it since she died. Dad said she planned on giving it to me eventually.”

“Justin-”

“Look, it was a dumb idea. And I didn’t mean to freak you out, especially when literally the biggest event of our lives is in three days, but… I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “I just started talking and you didn’t stop me. So here we are.”

“So what, you just carry this with you everywhere you go?”

“Fuck you. It’s called being prepared, Baker.”

Kat goes quiet for a minute, her eyes falling from his understandably stressed face to the ring still perched in her palm. This is quite literally the last thing she ever would’ve expected, and yet for some reason the idea of turning him down isn’t her gut reaction. It’s crazy, yeah, but she does love him and they’ve been together for a while. Hell, practically everyone and their brother has brought it up, so it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it, and at the end of the day she could think of a lot worse ways to live her life than spending it with Justin.

“Your mom must’ve had small hands too. Although… I guess we won’t really know if it fits unless you put it on me.” She murmurs finally, causing his head to snap up.

“What?”

“I mean, I won’t be able to wear it on the ice, obviously,” she continues, “And we should probably wait until after the Games to tell anyone, because it’ll only be more pressure if we’re labeled the American Newlywed team. Plus, our families are no question going to kill us- Dasha at the front of the line. We’ll probably have to have some sort of party to make it up to them. Especially Mandy.”

“Are you saying yes?” he asks breathlessly, still unsure if he’s in a daze or acquired brain damage from the cold.

A small grin breaks out on Kat’s face. “I must be crazier than we thought.”

“You’re saying yes!” he surges forward to kiss her, hoping all of his joy can be transmitted through the pressure of his lips. “Holy shit.”

“Does it count if you never put the ring on me?” she questions through a giggle, causing him to let out a laugh of his own as he takes the ring and slides it onto her finger with shaking hands.

“Perfect fit.” He observes, part of him not even surprised because fate is just on their side tonight apparently, before leaning in to kiss her again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She grins. “Mr. Baker,”

Justin laughs. “You joke, but I really could not care less.” He pauses for a second. “Hey, look, I’m sorry this isn’t something better. I mean, I wasn’t planning on renting out the Eiffel Tower or anything, but I wanted to at least make a speech or something. Most of all I know it’s something I planned to talk to you about beforehand.”

Kat shrugs. “Might as well have this be just as weird and dysfunctional as everything else about our lives, right?” She says with a dry laugh. “Besides, you can save the speech for your vows.”

Justin stares at her for a second. “You seriously want to get married at 3AM in a foreign country, in secret, three days before the biggest competition of our careers?”

“Are you getting cold feet already?”

He laughs. “I’m just making sure I’m not dreaming.” He says honestly.

“Oh, you’re awake. And it’s too late to back out now, Davis.” She holds up her left hand where the ring sparkles, looking, Justin can’t help but notice, like it’s always belonged there. “I’ve already got the hardware.”

Justin grins. “Guess I’m stuck then.”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh.” He stands up from the bench and offers her his hand. “Then let’s go get married.”

-

Part 2 Coming Soon. ;)

#spinning out #kat baker #justin davis #katstin #kat x justin #sowk fic

[mxvladdy]

A Break

Part Trios. More fluff more plot! part 4 will be out eventually, I’ll still bouncing some ideas around with it as I write. 

Chapters: 1-2-3-4

Steam wafted up at him, reddening his already pink tinged cheeks. It scalds the very tip of his strong nose. The contrast between his thermos and the frigid tundra air around him was violent, but worth it for the subtle aromas wafting up at him. 

Smiling indulgently into his cup he took a small sip savoring the light fruitiness of the blend. It was an interesting mix of flavors, like nothing he would have found at home. Yet very reminiscent of it. The dried pear was crisp and sweet, a gentle tribute to fall as winter beat around him. The blending of it with the smokey molasses taste of the hojicha had him groaning in delight. His sweet tooth was sated by the slight undertones of chestnut and caramel. It hit the back of his throat just right warming him. You had described the tea perfectly. Sweet, strong, and complex. 

Just like you. Hanzo flushes pink under his scarf recalling that absolutely radiant smile you had when presenting him with the small tin. A parting gift before his flight. Your newest house blend you said brightly tucking into his pack. It was humbling to think that he was important enough in your life to inspire such a unique gift. Let alone the idea of it gracing your shop’s walls. 

Tucking himself deeper into the small alcove Hanzo took in the snowy plains. Finding his center he breathed deeply enjoying the sting of the cold air filling his lungs as the sun rose in front of him. The howling of the wind around him creates a drone as it hits the half wall protecting him.  At first, he had marked this nook as a tactical sniper nest, it’s unencumbered view advantages if an attack came. After a few visits, he came up just for the peace it held. The resplendent view was always enough to soothe his frayed nerves after long bouts with his teammates. 

Pink and orange lights from the rising sun bounce innocently off the crystalline surfaces of ice clinging to every surface. The rays twinkling on the snow in an almost celestial way. Further on the lights of the nearby fishing village shimmer to the north. A few boats were already setting out for the day. It was nice to be back.

The last time he had been to Russia had been for the family 'business'. A successful venture into expanding their arms trading routes with his late father. While not a leisurely visit by any means, the few times he had been allowed outside the hotel had been wonderful. Springtime in Moscow as he recalled was pleasant. The nip of the last vestiges of winter refreshing. The late season snow and frigid rains at night help to wipe the grime of the past year away, leaving the city smelling clean and virginal. He wished he could have stayed long enough to watch the city come alive.

Would you like it here in a small village? Or in a larger city? Hell, would you even like Russia at all? Hanzo takes another sip watching the last dregs swirl at the bottom contemplatively. Did you like the cold? Once you had commented that you had never seen fresh snowfall. None of any substantial quantity at least. It would be a nice thing to experience with you. Risking frostbite, he shucked his gloves digging out his com. His last internet search looking up at him. He closed it quickly, heartbeat quickening with nerves.  Perhaps he’d bring that up on a later date.

Instead, he got comfy opening up a new tab perusing “This year’s hottest vacation destinations”. They were all pretty sure-but lacking something. Neither of you are big on crowds, so perhaps nothing too close to tourist epicenters… No- he needed something quiet and out of the way. He could afford to spoil you easily. Hanzo laughs to himself, already hearing your protests at the amount of money he was thinking of spending. But you deserved it and so much more for his negligence. Yes, he decided then clearing his screen his searches for more private venues. One place jumping out to him.

It was unfortunate that his dreams of taking you home would never come to fruition. Hanamura was enchanting in the wintertime. During the better years at the castle, he and Genji would often take to the rooftops. Building snowmen and inappropriate mounds of snow where the staff could not reach. Then in the evenings would snuggle close under the kotatsu, eventually drifting off after a heavy snack. Hanzo’s smile turns brittle, a wistful sigh escaping him. Taking you anywhere near Japan would be risky. Even with the elders long since buried, and the Shimada Dynasty crippled. If he were to be recognized... 

No, anything that put you at risk was unacceptable. Looking back down at his com he nixed anything in the eastern hemisphere. Perhaps Scotland? He didn’t think he had a bounty there; not yet anyway. 

[Apologies Agent]    

Hanzo starts at the sudden voice in his ear quickly clicking off his com. As if she couldn’t see his search history whenever she pleases. “Athena,” He pressed his finger to his ear to respond. “How can I assist you?” 

[Sorry for interrupting your downtime. Your brother wished for me to inform you that he is waiting for you in the commons]

Hanzo gazed blankly out into the white abyss. “What?”

[Brother-commons-now] She repeats unable to hide the mirth in her tone.

“He’s in Nepal-” He argues dumbly pressing his finger harder against his ear.

[He wished it to be a surprise. So surprise.] She disconnects then, snarky voice blowing away with the wind. 

Biting back a smile he rose. It wasn’t unlike his brother to drop by unannounced. It has been his defining personality trait since birth. Heh, little shit. Packing up quickly, Hanzo takes one last look out over the last moments of peace he’ll have for the rest of the day. With a calming breath he steps off the ledge landing gracefully to the floor below with a soft womph. His mechanical legs absorb the impact with ease. Walking down the empty corridors his footsteps echoing dully against the metal walls. His teammates having already separated to go about their duties after breakfast. The thought of food making his stomach growl. 

Hmmm... Genji and his foolishness could wait a little longer. 

Changing directions he took a sharp turn nearly running into a crouching figure in the path. “Ah! Ms. Zhou, are you alright?” He hurries over to the young scientist. 

“Morning Hanzo! Ha, yes I’m fine.” She flushes righting her askew glasses. “Wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings- uneven tiling.” Pointing at the raised title that had tripped her. Wordlessly, Hanzo knelled helping to collect the scattered papers and tablets. As she rights herself.

“Where are you headed?” He asked offering to help her carry her belongings. 

“Kitchens; need some caffeine to function.” She chuckles leading the way. “Thank you by the way for the Oolong! I’m almost out, didn’t even know how much I was drinking till I was scraping the bottom of the tin. So I guess it's back to coffee for now.” 

Hanzo beams inwardly. The cold hiding his flush of pride. “I’m glad you enjoy it. I'll have to order more soon.” He makes a mental note to order more for himself too.

Mei arrives first at the doors to the kitchen and turns. “Would you like to join me? It’s been ages since our last get together.” Hanzo winces, chastising himself for his negligence. It had been quite a long time since they last spoke. She had been one of the first to warm up to him. Shortly after his arrival at headquarters, she had helped him move his extensive collection of literature to his room. From there they began recommending books and articles on their particular interests to each other. Soon their little get togethers became a regular thing and earned them the title of “Overwatch Bookclub” courtesy of Hana. Even though it was only a “club” of two, neither of them minded. 

He was about to agree to a bit of good company over breakfast when his com chimed. A very recognizable ringtone at that. Damn- he had almost forgotten. “Perhaps another time? Genji has stopped by and is as impatient as ever.” Hanzo bowed low in apology. 

Mei waved his apology off with a smile. “No, no worries!” She brightens clapping her hands together. “Do tell him I say hello!”  With a quick nod and another bow Hanzo turns back leaving the young woman to bustle about the kitchens on her own. He walks back up the halls slowly to the large commons. Warmth hits him hard wrapping himself in its comfortable embrace when he enters. The crackling of a large fire flickers bright yellow and red casting a cheery glow over the lone occupant. His brother sat beneath the sole window of the room. The large oval pane of plexiglass looking out over the glacial sea and cliffside. Genji faced towards it, long legs propped up on the small sill texting animatedly. Hanzo’s com lighting up once more obnoxiously.

“Aniki!” Genji chips turning his head to throw his scowling brother a lopsided grin. Hanzo relaxes nerves easing at seeing his little brother smile, his faceplate off and attached to his side. “Surprised!?” 

“I would have been more surprised if you had called ahead.” He chuckles placing his jacket and scarf neatly over the back of the chair, sitting across from his brother. 

Genji gasps, throwing a hand to his forehead. “You wound me! After all the trouble I went through to bring gifts…” 

That piques his interest. His dragons rumbling in excitement. “Oh? And here I thought Nepal was nothing but bitter winds and bells.” Hanzo shot back, eyeing the satchel slung over Genji’s chair expectantly. 

“Ha.Ha.” Genji replies sardonically thrusting a large heavy box in his brother’s direction. The parcel was clumsily wrapped, the paper wrinkled from its long journey. Even so, Hanzo smiles looking over at his brother for some kind of ruse.

“What is the occasion?” He slips easily into their native tongue. He peels at the tape slowly, more so to annoy his brother than to preserve the paper. The box underneath was old and worn, having been stored somewhere to age unloved. Faded watermarks and nicks littered the top cover. Some were old. Older than the others. His heart stops, throat clenching tight in realization. “Genji-” He knew this box. He knew some of the nicks in the grain. If he squints he could see the stain he made on the top right corner. Almost hearing the clatter of his tea set against the wood from all those years ago. His worn fingers trace over the grid top. The yew was just as strong and supple as when he was given it. The dragons painstakingly crafted into the sides of the box grinning up at him. 

It was a shogi board. It was his shogi board. His first and last gift from his mother. It was bittersweet to recall all the days he spent playing against her in her hospital bed. Connecting over it on the lonely days when Father was out and Genji was still too young to visit. “How?” He whispers voice cracking. He thought he had lost this forever, burned no doubt with the rest of his things when he fled. It had hurt to leave it, more so than any other valuable he had. 

Genji watched his brother rediscover the old game. Watching Hanzo's smile turn tender as he gets lost in a memory. Genji turns back to the window rubbing his neck unsure of what to do with this rare display of emotion. He hadn’t expected this reaction. He remembers playing it with him once or twice when he was younger. The few times he did was to humor Hanzo. He never really understood his brother's hyper fixation on it though. Video games were much more entertaining. 

“Well~” He starts sunning himself. “After a relaxing time contemplating my navel with my Master. I figured I could use a bit of exercise.” He glances over at his brother flipping him a roguish smirk. Hanzo scoffs rolling his eyes trying- and failing to hide the tears misting at the corners of his eyes. Genji turns back quickly to the window, giving him a little privacy to compose himself. “Just thought I would pop by, say hello and poke at what remains of the ol’ hornet's nest.”

Hanzo chuckles wetly too engrossed in his memories to really chastise his siblings' reckless behavior. He moves on autopilot finding the hidden compartment of the board to pull out the silk bag within. It had held out better than the board thankfully. Opening it he dumps out the hand carved Koma. The alabaster and mother of pearl pieces were blessedly unblemished. He thought he had lost this forever.

“Play a round?” He interrupts his brother’s prattling. “Perhaps all these years apart have made you a better player.” He jokes, wiping quickly at his eyes and clearing his throat. 

Genji laughs rising to the challenge. “Bet I could wipe the floor with you.” He drops his feet from the sill and rotates to sit properly at the table jabbing a finger in Hanzo’s face.

His brother scoffs, already setting up the board. “Please, no amount of meditation can train you to sit and focus long enough.” 

“Oh, it’s so on…” 

Hanzo stretches in his chair smugly hours later. The muttered curses of his brother sweet in his ears. 

“You cheat.” Genji pouts helping to clean up the board before getting his feet to flex his legs. 

“Hmph!” Hanzo chuckles leaning further over the back of his chair till the world turned upside down. “I do not need such tricks to best you.” He watches his brother putter around the small kitchenette. 

Genji returns mocking his brother in a high pitched voice. He flicks at Hanzo’s crooked nose before he could right himself in his seat. “Ya-ya-ya. Next time will be different.” Genji drops back in his chair depositing a few plates, cups, and a tea kettle.

“Doubt it,” Hanzo rubs at his stinging nose.” I am never second best.” 

“Up yours,” Genji says sticking his tongue out. “Keep teasing me and I’ll eat all the food I brought myself.” 

Hanzo quiets down still grinning. “Oh? Did you go to Mia’s?” 

“Ha! If I did I would have fed the deers your half.” Genji ducks out of the way of Hanzo’s kick to the shin. “No, after my little escapade I figured it was best to find a new vacation spot.” He smirks, turning his attention back to his rucksack searching for something. “Decided to take a little ‘hop across the pond’ to the states.”  

Hanzo raises a brow. Oddly large jump. Well-out of the two he was the more spontaneous one. Guess some things never change. “I see-” He waits, allowing the theatrics for once. Watching his brother’s movements turn feline, mischief radiating off of him. Uh oh.

“Yeah. Thought I’d mix it up from the big cities. Lay low somewhere a bit smaller.” He peers at Hanzo, eyes alight. “Went to this fabulous little coastal town. Touristy, but quaint.” An odd tingle starts up Hanzo’s spine, his dragons going worryingly silent. “Remember the taffy we used to get from our nanny? The red and pink wrapped ones we would sneak after dinner? Thought I’d try the local ‘saltwater’ taffy.” Genji chortles pulling out the last of his surprises. “Stuff almost undid all of Angie’s hard work.” The tingle picked up to a static like buzzing pinching at his shoulders and jaw. He knit his brows staying silent. He couldn’t- “Luckily, I found this amazing little tea shop down the corner. Figured a hot drink would soften the cement gluing my mouth shut.” 

Hanzo’s quib is lost on his tongue. His eyes locking onto the sapphire and gold tin. He couldn’t. Genji’s asinine tale is drowned out by the static building in his ears. The waves of sound mixing with the dizzying panic giving him tunnel vision. 

The aroma hit his gut differently than it did this morning.

“Brother? You ok?” Hanzo pulled himself out of his deluge of thoughts. Gaze flicking up to his brother’s. He eyes him worryingly. His arm outstretched holding a small plate out for him. One of your signature macarons resting on it. The little pink flower on top still fresh, not having wilted from the long journey.

“You know.”

“Yes.” Genji nods simply placing the plate down in front of him. The brothers say nothing as Genji prepares and serves the tea. “She seems lovely.” 

“How?” The archer hisses baring his teeth in frustration, white knuckling the table. He had been so careful. If Genji knew then who else could? 

Genji sat quietly breathing deeply through his nose thinking over the words forming in his mind. He has to choose what he says carefully, watching his brother descending mentally into a panic. Locking himself down. This isn’t what he wanted to happen. Damn, should have listened to Zenyatta. He is a private man rebuilding his life, my student. Give him time and space to grow. Ugh. It was too late to go back now anyway… 

“Mei-Don’t worry! She doesn’t know anything!” Genji catches himself quickly as the look of panic grows on his brother’s face. “She shared drinks with me a while back. Said you gave it to her. I know your taste in Oolong and that was not it.” He tries for levity. “You’re a grumpy old man of habit; who I know only imports from Japan. Seeing an American name had me curious.” He pauses taking a sip from his cup. It was really good tea, it matched his brother’s sweet tooth perfectly. On his little trip to the shop, Zen had gifted him a zesty lemon white tea. The smell itself was decadent and the flavor refreshingly tangy. “One web search later and a few wrong turns I found the place. You definitely have a type Aniki! Thought she was gonna put my head through the glass display case for flirting with her.” 

Hanzo chokes on air. “Flirt!?” His glare turning thunderous. The urge to throttle the cyborg rising.

“I had to know!” Genji laughs, arms raised in submission. “Between the tea name, and her staunch ‘I have a boyfriend’ I got my answer.” 

“No.” Hanzo corrects him jabbing a finger at his stupid polished chrome chest. “You had to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He almost felt bad the deflating look crossing his brother’s face. Almost. “Genji-” He sighs running a hand through his windswept hair. “I know you meant well but I can’t mess this up. I can’t.” He pleads. 

Genji frowns leaning forward in his chair. “I just wanted to see what made you so happy…” He hadn’t seen his brother this relaxed-ever. The past months had brought such a change in him. At first, Genji thought that he had finally gotten comfortable with the team. His ever present scowl had relaxed into a more contemplative frown. Still had a ways to go, but at least he's more approachable now. Team dinners and game nights had gotten a new member too. But then he started disappearing for days on end. Not on any missions, not that Genji knew of. His brother's roster was always clear when he disappeared. He assumed that it was old ‘family’ business or loose ends somewhere. But every time Hanzo came back he seemed...lighter. Happy. It was nice to see him treat himself as a person instead of a tool. “I was so excited to see that something, someone brought you some happiness. I apologize for imposing on something so private.” 

Hanzo couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. “I don’t deserve it.” 

Genji huffs indignantly shaking his head. “Nonsense,” Reaching over and squeezing Hanzo’s strong hand. “Redemption comes in many forms, and living a full life is part of it. You deserve a full life Hanzo, truly.” 

A war of emotions crosses Hanzo’s face. They have argued about his grief, guilt so many times before. “I-” Hanzo blinks owlishly, meeting his brother’s stare. His younger sibling’s face a mask of defiant obstinates. Daring him to argue his worth. “Thank you.” He concedes covering Genji’s hand with his free one and squeezes it back. He didn’t deserve this, but he’ll take it for now.

“Excellent!” Genji’s grin returns to full blast moving back to the box of sweets. “I’ll keep it between us- well- and Zen. But you have to tell me allll about her.” He waves his serving knife threateningly. 

Hanzo chuckles, pulling the cookie and suspiciously tiny slice of cake towards himself. It looks like he was here for the long haul.

At least there were snacks. 

#overwatch #overwatch fanfic #hanzo shimada x reader #hanzo shimada #hanzo x reader

[perspective-series]

Exposed Perspective (10)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Slight fear, and talk of erasing memories

THIS IS THE THIRD STORY IN A TRILOGY. READ “A Third Perspective” AND “Switched Perspectives” FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE!

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters and the TWO prequels!)

———————————————————————————————

 Virgil woke up the next morning, bright and early. He grabbed the bag he had packed the night before, a small bag that didn’t have much in it. He then climbed out of his room and sent one last look down at it. He sighed. He would miss his home but at least he didn’t have to leave his friends behind. 

 Speaking of, he heard a bit of shuffling in Logan’s room and waited patiently in the hall, near the wall, for Logan to come out.

“Good morning, Virgil.” Logan greeted, hiding a yawn behind one hand as he emerged, having not slept long. Logan knelt down, offering Virgil a hand. “Breakfast?”

 “Sounds great,” Virgil said, climbing onto the offered hand. 

Logan stood up, stepping carefully over the hole in the floorboards. His landlord wouldn’t thank him for that, but at this point, it felt as though trying to repair it himself would just be foolhardy. Logan made his way to the kitchen, setting Virgil down on the counter. 

“Coffee?” Logan offered, already starting up the pot.

 Virgil tilted his head, looking at the strange thing Logan was setting up. Of course, he had seen it many times before but never when it was on. He had no idea what it did or what coffee even was. “What’s coffee?”

“Oh, right.” Sometimes Logan forgot just how different Virgil was from himself. “Well, it’s a caffeinated beverage that can provide energy to the drinker. Quite addicting, but very useful for staying awake.”

 “Oh, then um, yeah, I guess I’ll try it,” Virgil said with a shrug. He could use the extra energy for the move.

Logan nodded, popping in some toast as well for a more filling breakfast. Once the pot beeped, Logan took it out and poured a mug for himself, setting it down next to Virgil so that the borrower could get some as well.

 Virgil took out his tinfoil cup and scooped a bit out. He blew on it before taking a taste. The bitterness was unlike anything he had ever tasted before and it was almost too much. But Virgil found that he almost sort of liked it? Kind of? “It’s...interesting.”

“It’s bitter, but it’s more for a specific function than necessary pleasure.” Logan lifted the mug to his lips, taking a sip of his own. The toaster dinged, and Logan put the two pieces of toast on a plate. He pulled a jar of crofter’s jam from the fridge, beginning to spread it on one slice. “Do you want jam on yours? Or another condiment?”

 “Jam’s fine,” Virgil said, taking another sip of the coffee. He was already starting to get used to is. And he could feel himself being more awake than before. Weird, but cool.

Logan put Jam on the second slice as well, taking his own piece in hand before sliding the whole plate closer to Virgil.

“I found a few possibilities for a new residency,” Logan explained, taking a bite. “I suggested to Roman via text the four of us go scope them out today.”

 Virgil nodded as he ripped a piece of toast off and took a bite. He hummed at the flavor of the jam. No wonder Logan liked it so much. 

 “...I wish we didn’t have to do this.” He said after a few moments of silence.

Logan glanced at his smaller companion, then at the apartment around them. “It certainly is not ideal.” Logan agreed quietly. “But, certainly preferable to any other outcomes.”

 “I can agree with you on that,” Virgil said, taking another bite of his food. He wanted to be as far away from Dee and any other humans that now knew about him.

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Logan asked, having never fully gotten a rundown of Virgil’s injuries. He certainly looked different, if only due to his new haircut.

 Feeling Logan’s eyes on it, he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. I didn’t get much other than this haircut and a few bruises from his grip.” Virgil shivered as he remembered being wrapped in those fingers. “I think Patton got it worse. Dee...Dee seemed to take a lot of blood out of him.” Virgil couldn’t help but feel guilty about that since it should have been him that had blood drawn from.

“I see.” Logan frowned, noting this in the back of his brain. He would have to help keep an eye on Patton for any abnormal behavior and suggest methods to ease Patton’s recovery. 

As Logan pondered this, there was a knocking at the front door.

 Virgil snapped his head over to the door. “You think that’s Roman and Patton or…?” Virgil bit his lip, worried that it could be Dee or another human looking for them.

“I’m not sure.” Logan set his mug on the counter, approaching the door cautiously. He peeked through the peephole, eyes widening when he saw an unfamiliar figure. Turning back to the kitchen, Logan gave a motion for Virgil to hide.

 Virgil tensed and quickly hid behind the coffee pot, heart racing. He barely dared to breathe as he listened.

“Can I help you?” Logan asked, quite on edge and barely opening the door. With the door open, Logan could see there was actually three individuals on his doorstep. One was Thomas, who looked almost as confused as himself. The next was a suited individual with colorful hair, standing to Thomas’ right. The final individual was right in front of Logan, wearing a bright orange beanie and the same suit as the other.

“The name’s Joan, Special Victims Unit Officer.” The individual leaned closer, grinning and sticking out their hand. “Hi, how ya doin’?”

Logan slowly reached out his own hand. “Logan Sanders.”

“Oh, we know who you are.” Joan shook his hand eagerly. “You’re harboring a borrower, aren’t ‘cha?”

 Virgil tensed, shaking as the unfamiliar voice confirmed they knew he was there. And did he say something about an officer? Had Virgil been right? Had the government gotten involved and was looking for them? Virgil felt panic start to seize at his heart and mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Logan quickly pulled his hand back, ready to shut the door, but Thomas’ voice stopped him.

“They saw the tapes, Logan.” Thomas shifted on his feet. “I...I think they’re here to help.”

“What?” Logan frowned. 

“We’re a very special Special Victims Task unit,” Joan explained. “We deal with any crimes involving borrowers.”

“Including covering up whenever someone screws up and tries to expose them to the world.” The other suited member finally spoke up.

“Oh, that’s Talyn by the way,” Joan explained, pointing to their partner who gave a wave.

“I think we can trust them.” Thomas insisted.

“I like this guy, he gets it.” Joan nodded, jabbing a thumb at Thomas. 

“How do I know this isn’t some elaborate ruse?” Logan squinted at them.

“Well, if we really wanted to get in there, we could just wipe your memory and push right past.” Talyn got closer, standing on their tiptoes to look Logan in the eye. “But we’re trying to be civil here, so do the right thing and let us in.”

 Virgil shook as he fell to a seated position up against the pot. He didn’t care if they were here to ‘help’ or not, he didn’t want any other humans around him. But he had a feeling this encounter was going to happen whether he liked it or not.

“Wiping a memory is not actually possible,” Logan observed. Talyn frowned at him, pulling out some sort of rod and holding it in front of his face.

“Wanna bet?” They threatened.

“Okay, let’s not do that,” Joan advised, pushing the rod back down. “Not at least until we’ve found Virgil.” Joan now pushed back Logan, into the apartment. Talyn walked inside with a glare at Logan, and Thomas followed. 

“They came to my apartment first,” Thomas explained. “They asked where you guys were.”

“And why did you tell them?” Logan spoke out of the corner of his mouth, looking peeved.

“I couldn’t lie to a federal officer!” Thomas insisted. “Besides, I really think they can help us. They’re the ones that took down Remy’s video.”

“...what?” Logan looked at the agents in a new light.

“Yup, that was my doing.” Talyn looked proud of themselves. 

Joan cupped their hands around their mouth. “Virgil! Where are ya, buddy?”

 They knew his name?! Like hell Virgil was going to come out to their calling. He stayed where he was, hoping Logan or even Thomas would get to him first. Anyone but these other humans.

“...he’s in the kitchen,” Logan admitted, and immediately Talyn whirled on him.

“How dare you.” Talyn hissed. “What, you think you can help us just because you’re human?”

“I, ah, yes?” Logan took a step back, thoroughly confused. 

“It’s all part of borrowing etiquette 101,” Joan explained, pulling out a book. “It’s considered an act of disrespect to out a borrower. A borrower should be in control of when and to whom they are revealed.”

“Oh.” Logan glanced at the book, feeling both sheepish and intrigued. “May I see that?” 

“Sure thing!” Joan nodded, handing it over. Logan began to leaf through the pages.

“...I’ll go get Virgil.” Thomas offered, heading towards the kitchen. 

“No grabbing.” Talyn insisted.

“Yup, already knew that one.” Thomas nodded, giving them a brief look before leaving the room. He looked around the counter, not spotting the borrower.

“Virgil?” Thomas whispered, coming closer to it.

 “Thomas?” Virgil stood up on shaky legs, revealing himself as he walked out into the open. He had been listening the entire time and while he was slightly mad at Logan for revealing where he was, what the agents said only confused him. Were they actually here to help? It couldn’t be that though, right?

“It’s me.” Thomas smiled, laying down his palm for Virgil. “Uh, there’s some people here who want to see you but um, I think they might actually want to help?”

 Virgil bit his lip and after several moments of hesitation, he got onto the offered hand. “...Just don’t let them take me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Thomas promised, bringing Virgil close to his chest. He held the borrower there protectively, putting his extra hand up as well.

“Ah, there you are.” Joan’s volume decreased slightly but their tone did not, a sure sign they were trying to be easy but not condescending on Virgil’s ears. “Virgil, it is an honor to meet you. My name is agent Joan, and this is my partner agent Talyn. We are here to help you.”

 Virgil shifted more into Thomas, looking at the new humans warily. “...How?” He asked hesitantly.

“We help relocate borrowers whose identity has been compromised,” Talyn explained, coming over as well. “We wipe human’s memory of you and find a new suitable borrowing home far away from the incident for an extra layer of precaution. Of course, if you prefer there’s also a borrower base back home in Area 51 where some of our old borrower friends have built a community.”

 Virgil blinked. “There...is? H-How many times has this happened?” 

“Quite often.” Joan nodded sadly. “Modern surveillance systems aren’t exactly borrower-friendly.”

 “Oh.” Virgil looked down. The thought was sad but if these humans actually helped them… “And why do you help borrowers? Why haven’t you revealed our existence and made us pets or science experiments or whatnot...unless you do perform tests on my kind and this is some sort of ruse to get me to come back with you so you can do that to me!” Virgil’s breath became erratic as the thought sent him into a panic.

“Okay, y’know? Perfectly valid questions.” Joan put up their hands in surrender, taking a step back. “It may sound strange, but not all humans are actually evil. Talyn and I actually found borrowers ourselves when we were younger, but unlike what’s going on here we actually treat borrowers as people.”

“Wait a second.” Thomas frowned. “We treat Virgil like a person.” 

“Sure you do.” Talyn squinted suspiciously at him.

“Rule number 33.” Logan recited, still diligently reading. “Prolonged hand-holding is to be kept to a minimum, and only for as long as necessary. Lingering is considered an offense as you are limiting the borrower’s freedom through manipulation of an act of kindness.”

“...oh.” Thomas glanced down at his hands, realizing how long he had been holding Virgil. He moved over to the coffee table, setting Virgil down on it sheepishly. “I’m sorry Virgil, I didn’t mean to.”

 Virgil blinked. “No, Thomas, you’re fine.” He glanced at the book Logan was reading. It was a great rule, of course, but not at this moment. Virgil was perfectly comfortable with his human friends holding him for a while. As long as they put him down when he wanted to be put down, of course. Which they were usually good at doing. He turned towards the agents. 

 “I do know that not all humans are bad, just most of them,” Virgil explained. “Because Thomas is right. He, Logan and Roman all treat us like people.” Well, of course, not at first. But they were in a good place now. 

Talyn sat down next to the coffee table, leaning in and speaking in a hushed tone. “Are you just saying that?” They asked. “We know it can feel like you have no escape, but that’s why we’re here. You don’t have to stay captured by these humans any longer.”

“Hey, we wouldn’t do that!” Thomas exclaimed, before remembering the time Logan had indeed put them in a cage. He winced, looking at Logan. “Er, anymore that is.” 

Logan’s fingers tightened around the pages slightly, clearly overhearing their conversation.

“We can erase their memories as well,” Joan explained, coming over to sit next to Talyn. “If you think you will ever have any trouble with them, even just in the future, say the word and we zap ‘em.”

 Virgil’s eyes widened. “No!” He yelled, hating the thought. His friends had come so far, especially Logan! All that learning going down the drain would just be awful. “They’re my friends and I won’t let you erase their memories! Or take me away from them!” Virgil yelled, taking a step away from the two agents.

Talyn and Joan blinked, looking at each other briefly.

“Oh, so this is one of those cases.” Joan nodded in understanding.

“We’re not gonna take you away from your friends,” Talyn said earnestly. “We just wanted to make sure you were actually alright.”

“And, y’know, not being held against your will.” Joan shrugged. 

 “...Oh,” Virgil said, a little embarrassed by his outburst now. “Well, thank you for that.” He supposed these agents really were doing some good and helpful things for borrowers. They were even listening to him.

“Also thank you for not erasing our minds,” Thomas said feebly.

“Indeed.” Logan nodded in agreement, looking perturbed as he closed the book. The idea of losing any of his memories was quite troubling.

“Well, then, in that case, we’ll just get to work rehousing all of you,” Joan said, standing up.

“We were actually already planning on moving out to the next town over,” Logan explained.

“You were?” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, having not been informed of this.

“...we meant to tell you.” Logan gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Where’s Patton?” Talyn asked, looking around.

 “He should be with Roman,” Virgil said, not feeling bad about revealing that information now that he knew they were here to help.

“Alright, let’s go get them then.” Talyn stood up. 

“Rule 72.” Logan recited. “All borrowers should be involved in discussions pertaining to life-changing events such as a move or a reveal, so as to give every borrower a voice.” 

“You catch on fast,” Joan noted. 

“Can I see the book?” Thomas asked, looking eager. 

“By all means.” Logan gave it to Thomas, then set his palm down for Virgil.

 Virgil got onto the hand without hesitation, once again looking up at the book Thomas now held. “Who made that?” He asked to Joan and Talyn.

“A couple of agents back in the 50’s made the original,” Joan explained as the group migrated upstairs. “But the newest copy was compiled by yours truly.”

“With yours truly helping.” Talyn piped up, looking proud.

 “Huh. Well...it seems like a really helpful book.” Virgil complimented.

“It comes in handy.” Talyn nodded.

Joan paused once they had reached the front door, knocking on it.

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #borrowers #human!roman #human!logan #character!thomas #character!joan #character!talyn #borrower!virgil #borrower!patton #platonic #lamp #royality #analogical #exposed perspective #part 10

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Road Trip to Georgia

Summary: Drake wants to do something nice for Riley, and so takes her on a road trip down south.

Rating: K - Intended for general audience 5 years and older. Content is free of any coarse language, violence, and adult themes.

Notes: So... I did a thing. I’m mostly reblogging on Tumblr, having mostly moved to AO3 and FF.Net. In any case, enjoy!

Drake had been awfully and uncharacteristically excited when he had bound into their shared bedroom, woken her up with a kiss, caffeine and some gentle shoving. It was, after all, quite early, but he knew they had to make good time on the road.

He had woken up early, filled with anxiety and put into action what he had planned out over the last few months. He walked over to the convenience store around the corner from their hotel and gathered everything that he knew they could want.

For every road trip needs its snacks and drinks to keep them going.

He had looked on various maps and guides of the East Coast, planning out where they could stop for an actual meal for lunch and knew roughly how long it would take both with and without traffic. However, junk food was, according to Riley, part of the fun.

She had said during the Social Season that she had always wanted to just get up and jump in the car to go somewhere. “Anywhere, really. It doesn’t even matter. Sometimes I just wanna open up a map and randomly place my finger and go there.”

It was actually why she had jumped on the opportunity to come to Cordonia when Maxwell offered. Growing up with little money, earning minimum wage, she did not own a car, nor had the resources to just take a vacation somewhere. She longed for adventure, for a place far away she did not even know what it was, and in this regard, they were very much alike. The words had echoed in his mind and he could not shake them.

After the end of the Social Season, and with their obligations in Europe coming to a close, Drake asked if Riley wanted to go back to America for a short visit, with the interest of tying up some lose ends. She had accepted it, hoping to pick up some items of sentimental value from her apartment and closing the lease on it.

It was all a ruse, of course. He had not wanted to just pick a random place on the map, like she said, but somewhere he knew they would be comfortable going to, that had some relevance and that was far away enough both to make a long weekend of it and to lose some of the more pesky press that followed them across the Atlantic.

He wanted to do this while he could. Drake’s job at the Attorney’s Office in Cordonia was rather profitable, not to mention his “services” to the Crown, made him want to little in terms of cash, even if he was not in the business of flaunting it. However, their schedules were tight during the year, having little but a month in the Summer off.

He had called by Starbucks on his way to the hotel from the store and grabbed some pastries, breakfast rolls, hot drinks and woken her, trying to bribe her to wake up with a nice breakfast.

“What are you doing?” She had croaked, her voice still thick with sleep and her eyes refusing to open. “Baby, it’s too early. Leave me to sleep.”

“You can sleep in the car if you want, but if we want to stick to the schedule, we’ve got to leave now.”

“Go where?” This had peaked her attention and she couldn’t help but ask.

“Georgia.” He had grinned and circled the drink under her nose, allowing the aroma of it to pull her from her lingering slumber and out of the bed. “Get dressed.”

She looked at him as if he had grown another head. “Georgia? Why Georgia?”

He smirked sideways. “I miss looking at my horses. C’mon, let’s go.”

“You have horses?!” She shouted after him, but he ignored her, giving her space to change, laughing at her frustration.

________________________________________________________________

Eight in the morning, as Drake had planned, the two of them hopped into the rental car he had procured for the trip and left the mid-range hotel they were staying at and left, heading south.

Riley tried to crowbar some other piece of information out of him, but he was cagey and awfully amused by it, so by the time they reached Delaware, she had already given up, preferring road games he had little taste for, but humoured her all the same.

After they had been on the road for over three hours, Drake decided to pull over at a gas station in Virginia, rumoured to have the best milkshakes in the state. After using the services toilets, the two of them sat by the window, grabbing something else to eat as lunch.

“Sometimes all you need is a greasy burger.” Riley had declared while waving a ketchup covered fry at him.

“Oh, do you?” Drake said, as she nibbled the end of it off and dunked it in his milkshake. “You’re disgusting.”

“Drake, honey, I’m feeding the heart. The heart wants what it wants and right now, it’s French fries in your milkshake. Deal with it.”

“Why can’t it be in yours? It’s the same flavour.”

“Yours tastes better because it’s now forbidden.” She managed to swipe another bit before he moved his glass with a grin. “Thank you for doing this. I’d forgotten I’d said anything about it, but you didn’t. That makes me smile.”

“I’d do anything to see your smile, you should know that by now.”

“Except give me your milkshake for my fries, I see.” She pouted at him. With a roll of his eyes, Drake slid his glass nearer to her again. She grinned and dunked once more. “Losing its appeal now I can have it. I appreciate the gesture though.”

Drake laughed. If anything, even though they would get lost twice when Riley insisted on taking the scenic routes through small villages, spending this time with her will certainly be worth it. It is these times that he will remember. These moments he will remember when he is away, overworked and buried in documents for some stupid thing Liam wants to do, and unable to see her. It is these smiles, jokes and her playfulness that he will miss.

While the early morning was a killer to do, being here and doing this made it worthwhile.

#the royal romance #drake walker

[necrowriter]

Caffeine Challenge 23

Dialogue Prompt: “Their job wasn’t to save you.”

Alright, I confess-this ran a little bit over an hour (I started early). I...got a little carried away. 

“Oh, sir, thank you, thank you for saving me from those awful men!”

Lillie very nearly winced to hear the words even as they came out of her mouth. That had to be laying it on too thick. If she'd done any acting that bad back in her brief sojourn into college theatre, her own classmates would have dragged her off the stage. But the man in the mask and goggles didn't seem to notice. Supervillains generally didn't, she'd found; it was like you weren't speaking their language if you didn't ham it up as much as possible.

“Save you? My dear, I'm afraid you misunderstand the situation.” The man in the mask chuckled darkly. His smug declarations could have benefited from a deeper voice and probably a British accent, but he actually wasn't doing too badly with a slight Midwestern drawl, and Lillie had to admit, he did have a pretty good dark chuckle. Not the best she'd heard, but better than she would have expected for essentially an amateur.  

“You've mistaken the intentions of my Robo-Raptors,” the man went on, reaching out a gloved hand and fondly stroking the exposed metal cheek of the nearest raptor. “Their job wasn't to save you. Their job was to capture you. And they've done it admirably well, if I do say so myself.”

Inside, Lillie sighed. Oh my goodness, the giant red-eyed dinosaur deathbots weren't on an errand of mercy? Who could have guessed??

But she had a job to do, even if it was getting to be a highly irritating one lately, so instead of saying that, she pulled a look of utter shock and gasped, “What-what do you mean?”

The masked man clapped his hands, and one of the raptors reached out and lifted her up by the back of her coat. There were going to be some impressive tooth-marks in that later, Lillie mused; fortunately she'd long since learned to not wear any clothes she especially cared about on missions like this.

“I understand you're a person of some importance to Captain Comet,” the man said, gesturing casually at the raptor, which obligingly swung her up onto the back of another raptor. Lillie stifled a faint sigh of relief at this. She had not been looking forward to being dragged all the way back to wherever they were going. The neck pain alone was a terrible prospect. “He'll come looking for you, no? And then we shall have...a talk. Oh, yes.”

That dialogue could use some polishing, Lillie thought absently while she gasped in horror. It's just not quite his style, but a few tweaks could really make it work for him. A better way to control the raptors would probably help, too. Hand clapping just isn't in vogue.

Of course, no one ever asked her about these things.

“Oh, no!” she wailed, as the raptors took off at a run.

It had all started so sensibly.

Alright, so she was, essentially, a secretary. But there was nothing wrong with that, and she was a good secretary. She kept things in order for the entire Sanctum Tower, home base for the League and waystation for a good twenty superheroes coming in and out on an average day-sometimes more. That was no small task. And she'd didn't blink at any of the weird stuff: not when Feral had one of his rampages and needed new pants and a quiet cool-down room afterward, not when one of Cold Steel's many volatile devices malfunctioned and filled most of a floor with some noxious chemical, not when Fusion casually called up and mentioned that he needed a new shipment of uranium by this afternoon, not even when the nefarious Doctor Lobo had somehow managed to fill the entire tower full of sheep.

So when someone-she didn't remember who-had come up with the brilliant idea of luring out Starshooter's adversary by having her pose as the superhero's hapless girlfriend, well...it didn't seem that bad at the time. Starshooter and Subterfuge had been stuck in a deadlock for months, getting nowhere, and the pressure was mounting every day; Subterfuge, as befitted his name, was a little too good at infiltration and hacking and various other things that made the government very antsy about him being loose for too long. But he was also something of an old-school nostalgic, the sort that probably wouldn't be able to resist a good kidnapping and ransom-holding. So what was she supposed to do? Say no? There didn't seem to be anyone else to do it; all the female heroes were far too well known for the ploy to work. (And the fact that, for total realism in Starshooter's instance, it wouldn't be a female hero at all wasn't well known enough to work.) And, oh, everyone said, Lillie was so brave and tough and capable, she'd be excellent at it. She didn't even flinch when the Crusader broke in and had her at raygun-point the other week. And she'd be perfectly safe, they all assured her; the minute Subterfuge tried anything, the entire League would be on top of him.

So she'd agreed. She hadn't realized she was setting a precedent.

The problem was that it had worked. It had worked really well. A few mutually uncomfortable just-public-enough dates, and then one clear afternoon while she and Starshooter were enjoying a nice walk down Valentine Bridge, Subterfuge's drones had snatched her up and were flying her downtown while she screamed helplessly and Starshooter shook his fist and raged. That time she hadn't really had to act too much on the whole screaming-in-terror thing; truth to be told, she'd never had much of a head for heights, and those drones had enjoyed showboating a little too much.

The tracking device she wore in one earring led the League straight to Subterfuge's lair. He was in custody inside of an hour, and somehow, in the ensuing press avalanche, no one quite got around to mentioning that the whole thing had been a ruse. Which was alright with Lillie; she didn't much want the publicity.

And because it had worked so well, it made sense to try it again. It was another desperate situation: Nightfang had escaped from prison again, and he had a particular habit of going after civilians. Especially young women, so didn't the whole scheme make even more sense this time? And didn't it make sense to do it soon, before someone could really get hurt? After all, she'd done so well last time. We can count on Lillie, everyone said. She's dependable.

At least that time she didn't have to pretend to be anyone's girlfriend. She just had to wear more revealing clothing than she was used to, and hang around in the area where they were pretty sure Nightfang had gone to ground. By the time he showed up she was actually rather relieved. Alright, so he was a vampire, and pretty creepy in his own way, but he was still more gentlemanly than most of the other encounters she'd had that evening.

The problem wasn't doing it once or twice. The problem was that they kept asking, and the more times she did it, the harder it got to say no. After all, she'd done it all those other times, how could she object now? And it still made sense. In a way.

But it was frustrating.

They could at least give me a raise for this, she thought, wincing as one of the raptors hit a pothole hard; there was no padding on those things. Overtime. Hazard pay. Something. But then, what kind of selfish jerk would demand to be paid to save the city?

She wondered how long this was going to take. She really wanted to go home and take a long hot bath.

The especially annoying part, if she was being totally honest with herself, was that it got less and less, well, important. Helping Starshooter take down a national threat was one thing, but Captain Comet? He was barely anybody. She wasn't trying to be a snob, really, she wasn't, it was just-she did have other things to do, and quite frankly the kid could have used the practice winning a few battles on his own. He hadn't even tried to have a good showdown with his newfound nemesis, just jumped straight to the fake-girlfriend gambit. Wanted to really get the jump on this new villain, apparently, put him down before he could become a real threat at all-and before he had any chance of making Captain Comet look less than captainly.

Of course, the way he'd posed his so-called request in the first place hadn't exactly helped matters. “Hey, can I use Lillie?” Like she was the company car. Honestly.

#caffeine challenge #caffeine challenge 23 #writing #one-off #superheroes

[greyias]

For the acts of intimacy prompts, how about either -- ♥: Reacting to the other one crying about something or ♕: Holding hands. Do I need to specify for whom? ;)

I feel like this is slightly cheating, but I realized that I already had something written up that matches this. So, here’s a snippet from the Shadow of Revan monster fic I’ve been working on…

It took Theron a good twenty minutes to navigate through the muddy mess, weaving through various tents and groups before he finally found Doc’s so-called ‘wet blankets’ and the largely untouched carafe of caf that had been brewed earlier. He filled two mugs almost to the brim, and then carefully picked his way back through the camp, doing his best to stay under cover to keep the precious liquid from getting watered down by the morning drizzle. 

By the time he reached his destination, Lana had apparently already moved on with her day, and his quarry was staring off into the jungle. He made sure to make a little bit of noise, and her head snapped over to look at him, the guarded look melting away into the hints of a smile. “Theron, you’re awake.”

“Not quite,” he said lightly, “haven’t had my first cup of caf.”

She eyed the two mugs with bemusement. “Do you normally need that much to just wake up?”

“Not usually.” He grinned. “Besides, one’s for you.”

She tried to hide her reaction by ducking her head, but Theron still caught the corners of her mouth twitching up into a larger smile. “That’s very thoughtful.”

“It was a long walk,” he agreed and gently pressed the mug into her hands. “Through the mud.”

Her fingers wrapped around the handle, brushing against his briefly. Even though they were both wearing gloves, a thrill shot down Theron’s spine all the same. She pulled the mug back towards her and peeked over the brim at him. “Thank you.”

“I figured I owed you at least one drink after all of this.” His eyes sparkled as he took a small sip from his mug.

She paused before taking her sip, brow wrinkling in what could have been a playful frown. “I thought you only did that when you wanted to talk about conspiracies.”

“Only in a cantina,” he teased, “and as Jakarro has been fond of pointing out, Yavin IV is decidedly lacking in the cantina department.”

“So you haven’t discovered a cult dedicated to a different long-dead ancestor that we need to investigate while you were eating breakfast?”

“Well, I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

She hid her smile behind her mug, and Theron found himself taking another slow drag on his own to try and mask his reaction as well. Despite the long walk, steam still wafted up from the hot beverage. The brew had a bitter tang from being left in the carafe so long, but was warm enough to ward away a bit of the morning chill. Once the rain stopped, the normal swelter of the jungle would probably return, but for the moment, it was nice.

His companion gave off a small sound of contentment as she took her first sip, seeming to savor the bitterness. A lot of people tended to pour in heaps of sweetener and cream in theirs to mask the actual flavor, which always seemed a bit pointless to Theron. He thought about making a wisecrack about her enjoyment of the beverage, but then decided against it after a moment. He didn’t want to ruin the comfortable silence, or that tiny little smile.

She took a few more sips before carefully setting the mug down on the high stack of crates next to her. “How are you feeling today?”

“I can’t complain,” he said lightly. 

“Are you sure?” her brown wrinkled in concern. “After the fight you seemed like you were hurting.”

“Nothing a good night’s sleep courtesy a sneaky medical droid couldn’t fix.” She didn’t look too terribly convinced, and he had to wonder if he was really getting that bad at lying. He decided a change of subject was in order. “And what about you? It’s awful early for you to be dressed so… prepared. Don’t tell me you sleep in that.”

“It’s not very comfortable sleepwear,” she said lightly.

“Did you sleep?”

“Some,” she admitted quietly. “Not as well as you did, I’m afraid.”

He frowned, setting his mug down. “You’re not expecting trouble, are you?”

“No, I,” she looked away, back off into the jungle, “I had a few things on my mind is all.”

“Thought Jedi usually meditated on that sort of thing.”

“The energy on this planet is very dark,” she said, still not looking at him. “It can make meditation difficult.”

Theron noticed the word choice there, but chose not to comment on it. Instead, he picked up her mug and placed it back in her hands. “In that case, it sounds like you need a little bit more caffeine.”

She flashed him a grateful look. “You might be right about that.”

“You can always have my mug too if you need it.”

“Just the one is good for now,” she smiled, “thank you.”

“Well, I do owe you more than just one drink,” he said, “a lot more.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said quietly.

“I think we’re going to have to disagree on that,” his voice was a little rougher than he liked, “so I’ll start slow… and right now, that seems like providing you with however many mugs of caf you need to stay awake.”

“I appreciate the caf,” she said, measuring her words carefully, “but would prefer you not feel any obligation towards me.”

“Obligation isn’t really the right word to describe what I’m feeling.”

“Then what is?”

“There’s not really one word,” he said quietly, “everything’s kind of jumbled together. But obligation has nothing to do with it, I know that much at least.”

Her eyes crinkled as she hid another smile behind the ruse of drinking from her mug, and he thought that maybe she understood what he meant, even if he didn’t have the right words at that moment to describe it.

This whole situation was playing with fire, and Theron knew he should just let it go. There were so many reasons to not get involved with a member of the Jedi Order, and if anyone knew the long-lasting consequences of that it should have been him. Maybe it was his contrary nature, that he knew it was against the rules, or maybe it went even beyond his deeply ingrained need to punch back at authority and had more to do with this particular Jedi. Either way, it was proving to be a losing battle.

His eyes drifted down to the twin sabers clipped to her belt, taking in the familiar swirls carved into the long silver hilts. A few nicks and scratches marred the otherwise pristine casing, and now that he was looking for it, he could just make out the almost clean break near each of the pommels that signified they were once one piece. The modified grips at the end of each hilt expertly disguised that the original whole had been cleaved in two by a lightsaber.

“So, I heard there’s an interesting story behind these.” He bumped her hip lightly with his, jostling the saber. The contact made her cheeks flush the slightest shade of pink, an action that sent a zing straight down his spine and into another area of his body entirely. 

“I don’t—“

“Your lightsabers,” he clarified, just able to suppress a grin. “I was talking to the Grand Master on the ship, and couldn’t help but notice the similarity.”

“Oh, I guess they are,” she said, still a bit flustered. “What did she say?”

“Not much,” he admitted, “just that they used to be one piece, from her original dualsaber, back from the first war.  That it was destroyed in a battle with a Sith. She didn’t mention which one… but I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

“Darth Malgus,” Theron said, and leaned his hip against the stack of crates so he wouldn’t be tempted to try and bring that blush back to her cheeks.

Grey nodded, ever so slightly. He wondered exactly how much she knew of the history of her own blades, or if she was just humoring him right now. “Malgus was a formidable opponent.”

“When you faced him… was it with that pair?” he asked curiously.

She nodded. “It’s a curious connection.”

“The Force works in mysterious ways?” Theron crooked an eyebrow.

“It can.” She shot him a look that said she picked up on the undercurrent of sarcasm. “Do you know what battle the original saber was broken during?”

“Alderaan is my best guess.”

“Wasn’t Jace Malcom a part of that battle?”

“Pretty big part,” he said casually.

“And he and Master Shan… they were quite close once, weren’t they?”

“You could say that.” He raised a brow. “Seeing as Jace is my father.”

“He’s your…” her eyes widened. “Then that means…”

He couldn’t stop the laugh this time at the almost scandalized look on her face. The fact that she hadn’t known meant that the knowledge of who both his parents were wasn’t extremely widespread, which was good for him in the long run. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned it so casually, but watching her puzzle through the various facts to their ultimate conclusion was too amusing.

“Wait, you’re how old—“

“Don’t do the math,” he snickered, “you won’t like the answer.”

“It wasn’t… that night was it?”

“Probably not.” His eyes sparkled in mirth. “You’ll have to forgive me for not looking that deeply into the exact date of my conception.”

Her hand brushed over one of her sabers, her embarrassment melting away as a contemplative look settled on her face. “That’s… interesting actually.”

“No, it’s not! The less everyone thinks about my parents having—“

“Not that.” She flashed him a patient smile. “Well, not that exactly.”

“I’m not following.”

“When you think about it, we already had a connection of sorts, before we even met.” She flicked one of the sabers for clarification.

That thought shouldn’t have fired up that strange light in Theron’s belly, but for some reason it did. He eyed the lightsabers with renewed interest, recalling some of Master Zho’s words about the importance of it being an extension of a Jedi. It was what they used to defend themselves and others, and fight back the forces of darkness. She had used hers to face down the Sith Emperor, a false Emperor, and countless other threats against the galaxy. Surprisingly, that was a connection he didn’t mind sharing, especially when the person he shared it with was her.

“The battle that led to this originally being broken wound up leading to you.” She met his eyes, and there was such warmth behind her smile, it briefly took his breath away and distracted him from all thoughts of his parents. “And then the pieces came to me after I…”

The warmth faded from her eyes as she trailed off, swallowing audibly. Her hand holding the mug trembled ever so slightly. It wasn’t enough to be visible from across the camp, but enough where he had noticed it. The transformation was so abrupt and complete it pulled Theron away from the crates, and he closed the space between the two of them without even realizing he was doing it. He gently cradled the shaking hand, stilling it before she spilled any of the hot liquid. 

Belatedly, he remembered his mother’s words of there being a story that wasn’t hers to tell regarding the younger Jedi’s receiving of the hilts. If Theron had the flexibility to do so, he would have kicked himself.

“Birth and rebirth.” She whispered the words so quietly that he almost couldn’t hear them, but he didn’t care for what he was able to hear. “Everything really is connected together through the Force.”

Well, the Force and its connections were really crappy as far as Theron was concerned if they warranted a reaction like this. She looked almost haunted by whatever memories that had been dredged up, and as he studied her a little closer, he realized it resembled the far away gaze from the previous night. If he were a betting man, something really bad had happened during those missing six months from her file. Considering the timing, he couldn’t rule out a possible connection to the return of the Emperor she supposedly had struck down. But what that had to do with a pair of lightsabers he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

The haunted look hadn’t faded completely from her eyes as she raised her gaze up to meet Theron’s. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean…”

“Hey,” he said quietly, still gently cradling her hand and the mug, “you don’t need to apologize.”

“No. I do. I shouldn’t be letting anyone see me like this. I need to be strong, the galaxy—”

“I don’t care about the galaxy!” he snapped. “It can’t see you right now. Just me.”

“No one likes a Jedi with doubts…”

“It doesn’t bother me. Everyone has doubts.” He squeezed the hand he was holding, and leaned in a little closer. “You’re allowed to be a person and a Jedi. They’re not mutually exclusive concepts.”

She couldn’t hold his gaze, and the look of utter shame and guilt that flooded her features made his insides twist in ways it never had before. He grabbed her free hand with his own, holding on tighter than was probably called for.

“If you hide your doubts and fears, then you’ll never face them,” he said.

“I know that,” she said, still not looking up, “but I have to face them alone.”

“Says who?”

She remained quiet for several long moments, and he started to wonder if anyone in particular had ingrained that deep stubbornness in her, or if it came about from too much meditation and contemplation. Master Zho had once accused him of something of the sort when he was a kid, there might have been some truth to it. He’d made a long habit of hiding who he was behind the person everyone expected him to be. It only made sense he’d been drawn to someone who did the exact same thing.

“Look, I can tell there’s something bothering you,” he said softly, “but I’m not going to pry.”

“No?”

“You don’t seem like you really want to talk about whatever it is that happened.” He gave her hands a brief squeeze. “I can respect that. We all have things from our pasts we’d rather forget.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he breathed. “But if down the road you find that you do want to talk about it… I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

Her laugh was a bit choked, and he thought he saw the hint of a shimmer in her eyes when she finally looked up at him. “Who said that?”

“Okay, you got me. No one’s ever told me that.” He cocked his head to the side and gave her his best approximation of a grin. “Just the opposite in fact. But, hey, you have to start somewhere, right?”

Her lips twitched, hinting at a smile. “I suppose you do.”

“And I’m sorry for dredging up bad memories,” he said quietly. “That was definitely not my intention.”

“I know.”

“Just thought you’d find that little tidbit about your blades… interesting.”

“It’s all right.” The smile she gave him this time was less forced. “I’m glad you told me about them. I like knowing more about their history. They’re… important to me. I’ve done a lot of good with them.”

Theron caught the hints of the deeper story no one would talk about in just those few words, but wanted to be true to his word, so he didn’t ask anything further. He also briefly wondered if she was talking about more than just the lightsabers, but decided he didn’t want to press there either. Some ambiguity never hurt anything.

Instead, he lightly jostled the half empty mug they were both cradling together. “Need a refill?”

“I still have a bit left,” she said, but didn’t pull her hands away. “And you did say it was a long walk.”

“Through the mud,” he reminded her.

“Then let’s not make you go through all that again.” She absently brushed her thumb against his fingers that still cradled her hand. It was very distracting. “Besides, you’ve hardly touched yours. Seems like a long way to go for just one mug.”

“Might be worth it. Caf is the most important meal of the day.”

She hummed softly in agreement. “In that case, I think I should probably finish my cup before the rest of the camp decides to wake up.”

He took the hint, and reluctantly dropped his hold on her hands and leaned back against the crates. The disappointment that flashed across her features at the break in contact mirrored his own. It was for the best though, if anyone saw him holding her hands for such a long period of time they might get the wrong idea. Or rather, too good of an idea of the situation, and he didn’t want her dealing with any fallout on his account. One of them actually gave a crap about what the Jedi Council thought, and he needed to try and respect that.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, before she mimicked his actions, lightly bumping her hip against his as she settled in next to him. “Aren’t you going to finish yours?”

He cocked an eyebrow, but grabbed his mug and raised it to bear. “Of course. Can’t let a good thing go to waste.”

“No,” she smiled, “we can’t.”

#fanfic #swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #otp: adorkable #oc: greyias highwind #and by snippet #i mean almost 3000 words #storyknitter #SoR Fic o Doom #swtor #greyfic

[setoangel01-fanfiction]

Enclosed

The Rocker and the Mechanic - Chapter 2 (Previous Chapter)

Rated: T

Fandom: Sing 2016 (AU)

Pairing: Johnny x Ash (Jash)

Story Summary: (Sing 2016 AU) A down-on-her-luck rocker's motorcycle breaks down in front of an old mechanic shop three months after her ex cheated on her. Can the gorilla mechanic with the voice of an angel fix her bike…as well as her heart in the process?

Chapter Summary: (Sing 2016 AU)This handsome gorilla mechanic invites her into his shop and Ash isn't exactly sure what to expect...

Fanfiction.net

A03

Upon walking into the door, the tall gorilla switched on a light nearby and the whole garage came to life. Ash flinched at the brightness that suddenly plagued her retinas but it cleared up quickly when the now illuminated garage came into view. Taking only a moment to place her guitar case near the door before looking around what was previously only darkness.

Icy blue eyes took in a large open area with cabinets of tools, multiple boxes open and splaying their contents of materials ranging from unused tarps and new bottles of different fluid for cars. What she believed to be spare vehicle parts littered much of the floor in neat piles separated by type, and tires making a tidy tower against a wall. For all of its initial appearance of nothing more than a cluttered mess, it was actually (and rather surprisingly) quite clean and organized. Continuing with the visual exploration, her eyes landed on her motorcycle; parked beside it were two other cars, one of them with its hood open and appeared to be in the middle of an extensive repair.

Overall, the inside of this shop was well-kept although the smell of gasoline and motor oil wasn't the most pleasant - it wasn't bad either. As dingy and old as this place appeared on the outside, Ash had to admit that it was quite decent - can't judge a book by its cover she supposed...

"Miss? Do you want me to make enough coffee for you?" He suddenly asked and Ash couldn't help but shoot him a bemused expression.

"Huh?" she muttered. The guy's British-ness coming into serious question for she suspected Earl Gray tea and crumpets to be offered…but coffee?

"W-Would you like some coffee? I was gonna make a pot since it seems like it's going to be a long night." he chuckled and she ignored how nice of a laugh he had.

"Uh, sure." she hid behind a casual shrug.

The gorilla flashed her a smile before getting back to where he was indeed scooping coffee grounds into a well-used percolator. She watched him do that for awhile before feeling a bit creepy about it and turned her eyes back to her surroundings.

"Should be ready in a bit. Be sure to help yourself - there's sugar and creamer by the pot…" he gestured and she glanced over to the very tall counters and shot him a rather exasperated look.

"A stool is there too." he finished with a lopsided smile.

Ash peered around him and indeed there was a wooden stool…this guy must deal with clients of all shapes and sizes after all.

"Oh. Cool."

He nodded before heading back to where her motorcycle was parked. Kneeling down a bit and looked as if he was about to start working before he glanced down to his pajama-ish attire.

"Eh, uh, before I can access the damage, I need to go change - so um, if you'll excuse me." he chuckled a bit nervously whilst standing up to leave the room. Yet before he could step outside the room, he turned back and said, "While I'm gone, there's an outlet behind the toaster if you care to charge your phone."

Without even giving him another glance, Ash was moving; pushing the stool and climbing atop to see the vision of her salvation - a working outlet.

"Ugh, thank God." she muttered to herself as she dug her chord and phone out of her leather jacket pockets and plugged in the long-dead device that came to life with a pleasant ping and a green lightening bolt symbol on the once-black screen. Since the phone was a few years, it needed to charge up at least fifteen minutes before she felt safe turning it on again. Accepting the fact she couldn't check it anytime soon, she glanced back over to the garage area and seen the gorilla mechanic was still absent.

Ash's brows furrowed at the strangeness of that - this guy was sure the naive, trusting sort.

Answering his door after midnight to help a complete stranger was way beyond the kindness she was accustomed to. Far more used to being exploited and abused by those she swore loved her; whether it be her ex or so-called "friends" who refused to speak with her since she threw Lance's bitch ass out of their shared apartment and fired him from the band.

More pessimistic side of Ash still wondered if this was somehow just a ruse, that this nice-guy thing was just an act and he was planning some nefarious deeds but she wasn't scared; hand subconsciously tightening around a small pocket knife she kept deep in her skirt pocket. Yet she released it a second later. The guy seemed completely harmless; didn't seem like the type to hurt anybody - rather the opposite by what she'd seen of him thus far but you could never be too careful.

Ignoring the strange feeling that settled in her gut, she climbed down before pushing the stool over to the coffee pot where he'd left two clean cups nearby.

Ash filled it with what she coined 'black gold'; the slightly bitter scent and its promise of caffeine already easing the dull ache in her head. The coffee in the cup was followed by some cream and a generous amount of sugar before she quickly stirred it and brought the porcelain to her black lips. Sweet, hot elixir and it's wisps of steam coiling around her face quickly soothing the remaining chill that echoed across her pelt from the rain outside.

Tilting the cup slightly, the hot liquid slipped into her mouth but before she could swallow, the handsome stranger suddenly reappeared around the corner and what he was wearing had Ash almost choking on the sip of coffee. A uniform that would admittedly not be special on anyone really but the way the blue cotton material hugged the breadth of his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and all the generous amount of muscle in-between was far more alluring than she would ever care to admit. How the fuck could a blue mechanic's uniform look that good?!

…only one thing was certain - it was going to be a LONG night…

#sing 2016 #sing movie #sing #sing fanfiction #sing johnny #sing ash #ash #johnny #ash x johnny #johnny x ash #fanfiction #sing illumination #alternate universe #au #sing au

[readatmidnight]

It’s been a while since my last update since most of April and May left me with very little time for blogging. I just wanted to do a quick catch up on what I’ve been reading and what I plan to read in the coming month.

What I’ve Read

Almost 100% of the reading I’ve done in the past two months have been done via audiobook. Bless them for enabling me to finish all these novels while I completed my chores or during my morning commute, I would have fell into a book slump without them. I know at the beginning of the year I said I would cancel my Scribd account, but since I read so much via audio now, the set up is working great for me.

These aren’t even in chronological reading order because I am a Mess.

Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid ★★★★☆ This novel is best enjoyed via audiobook, sorry I don’t make the rules. TJR has a way of making her characters feel so raw and real, if I didn’t know any better I would have been searching for the discography of Daisy Jones & The Six after completing this novel. Epistolary novels don’t always work for me (see: Illuminae), because I sometimes find it hard to connect to the story. 100% not the case here, and I loved how utterly flawed everyone was allowed to be. To tell the truth, I didn’t like most of them, but they sure captured my imagination.

The Dragon Republic by R. F. Kuang ★★★★ HELLO IS ANYONE SURPRISED I AM COMPLETE TRASH FOR THIS BOOK. NO? OK. Ahem. With complete objectivity, this book was a stunning follow-up to The Poppy War. It’s more introspective, it deals with PTSD, it brings in all of the threads that complicates and muddies the war Rin is waging on Nikara and with herself. The ending left me literally reeling and screaming in random DMs for weeks. I still have not completely stopped and I fear I will never be coherent again. Give me book three or give me death.

Magic for Liars by Sarah Gailey ★★★★☆ I finished this book about two hours ago and edited the post to include it. Although it contained the familiar tropes like a magical school, a jaded private detective, a dark prophecy, a hidden world of mages, a murder mystery – Magic for Liars combined them in a way that kept the plot fresh and engaging. Imagine if Aunt Petunia never married Vernon Dursley but instead became a private investigator – who’s then called back to Hogwarts to unravel a murder, with Lily as one of the professors on tenure. Except better, because the character work in this book is freaking top notch. Just go read it OK, this is the gay and messy magical school we all deserve.

The Devouring Gray by Christine Lynn Herman ★★★★☆ Billed as The Raven Cycle meets Stranger Things, this is one of those rare instances where the book matches the comp perfectly. While I found the pacing to be slow, I thought it suited this character-driven story. It’s all about families and legacies and finding your own paths despite the weight of all that history. I adored all of the characters, especially Harper – my sworld-wielding warrior queen. I cannot wait to see the sequel and watching how entangled relationships will develop.

Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan ★★☆☆☆ I love the idea of hate-to-love, especially with a villain love-interest, so that’s what initially drew me to this book. When I learned that the heroine could converse with the gods, I got even more excited. Alas, it was a bit of a missed opportunity. I saw shadows of a fanfic-worthy broody bad boy in every scene with Malachiasz. I can understand insta-attraction, what I can’t understand is how poorly the character and relationship development was done. The stars are wholly reserved for Serefin, my drunken drama-queen and the only part of this novel I enjoyed.

We Hunt The Flame by Hafsah Faizal ★★★☆☆ I expected this to be a five star read, so while it was good, I am disappointed I didn’t love it more. The prose were gorgeous and I am definitely checking out whatever Hafsah Faizal writes next. However, the writing style’s penchant for beautiful metaphors sometimes felt jarring with the pacing of the book. While I liked the characters indivdually, I didn’t feel compelled by any relationships aside from the one shared between Altair and Nasir in the beginning. I’m definitely in the minority with my lukewarm response to this title, though – there are tons of fans so don’t be put off by my review.

Verity by Colleen Hoover ★☆☆☆☆ The sole star is for the fact that while the plot of this book was so improbable it veered into farcical, it was a page-turner. Toxic relationships is the bread-and-butter of crime, but there was something particularly tasteless about the way adultery and marriage was depicted in this book. Partly due to the casual nonchalance that CoHo tends to dismiss cheating, but also because even with my few remaining brain cells I could still figure out the plot was BS. The way disability was handled in this novel also left a lot to be desired, and the ‘twist’ at the end disappointed me so much I wanted to hurl this book into the sun. This was 7 hours of my good life wasted.

The Bride Test ★★★★★ I cannot remain calm or objective about Helen’s books, I love them completely – because they’re unabashedly Vietnamese, because they’re proudly diasporic, because they’re filled with characters who feel so real I’m mildly miffed we’re not invited to their weddings. Khai and Esme slowly but surely stole my heart over a course of a long haul international flight. I laughed and cried and went through all of the emotions of first love. Along with its powerful emotional resonance, The Bride Test also offered sharp societal critique on the accessibility of the American Dream. These books are so special to me and I am so glad we have more Helen content to look forward to for years to come.

Ruse ★★★★☆ This is the second and final instalment to Cindy Pon’s high-octane and prescient eco-dystopia – if you haven’t read Want, go visit your local bookshop right now and change this immediately. The bar is raised with Ruse, from the character development, the scope of the world, and the ever heightened stake. I loved seeing the gang again, even though Cindy did not pull any punches when it came to making my children suffer. It was such a satisfying and well-earned conclusion.

Wilder Girls ★★★★☆ Whew, this book was harrowing and intense. It felt dangerous and unknowable, with the plot constantly shifting right under my feet – just as the physical world in the book warps and distorts everything from plants to landscape to school-girls. I read it in a rush over two days because I could not put it down. If you’re after a novel with ride-or-die friendship and sapphic romance, this is one to keep an eye out for.

Red, White, and Royal Blue ★★★★★ I am completely bereft that Alex Claremont-Diaz and Prince Henry of Wales are not real people – for these two I would take up reading gossip magazines again. This book was rambunctious and as irrepressible as the passion that drives its main characters. The supporting cast are equally impressive, and I love the chemistry imbued into the various relationships in this novel. I can’t remember the last time I rooted so hard for fictional characters to overcome and triumph. Although we can’t have Claremont 2020, can we please please please get a Jude and Nora spin-off instead?

Looks like romance is my new favourite genre, judging by my latest two five star reads. Please give me all the recs, but no mayo toxic romance please. I feel like whenever I stray from the usual diet of speculative fiction, I become very picky in which books I read – which tends to mean that I end up loving the ones I do pick up.

What I’m Reading

I usually have numerous books on the go because I have no self-control. I have two going at the moment, but this number will undoubtedly multiply before I have the chance to publish this post.

Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennet – I am about 5 hours into the audiobook and I am already completely charmed by this world and its characters! The rogue-archetype has always been one of my favourite fantasy trope, and to make it even better Santia comes with a snarky talking key. The world building is a marvel, especially the magic system and how it is manipulated by the characters and governing bodies within the novel. I also heard there is a budding sapphic romance in this one – I think I just met the love interest and I already love her as well. Very excited to continue on!

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong – I am three chapters into this novel and it’s already taken my very soul apart. Written by a Vietnamese-American son for his illiterate mother, it’s part-meditation and part-confessional on PTSD, inherited trauma, and how a you learn to communicate with a mother-tongue you can barely speak. I am ready for it completely wreck me.

I forgot that I am technically still reading The Priory of the Orange Tree but I am so exhausted with this brick at this point in time, I’m not sure I will ever finish it. The world building (West and East dragon mythology), and the characters (sapphic Queens and her bodyguard) had so much potential – but I kept feeling like an emotional weight was missing.

What I’m Planning to Read

I am an expert is making up TBR and then not sticking to them. So to save myself the embarrassment here’s two I am definitely reading this month, the rest is c’est la vie.

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson I know y’all keep saying that Enchantment of Ravens is lame because it has no plot but I loved Rook and Isobel with all my heart OK. I know nothing about this one except that it has a librarian babe (maybe?). Therefore, I am very excited.

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim This is part of the Caffeine Book Tours that Shealea organised (thank you!!). This is one of my most anticipated read of this year because fashion and East Asian fantasy? Relevant to my interest. I think we can all agree that this is the best cover of 2019. I want this illustrator to draw my life.

What are you reading and what are you all up to? I miss you!! Hope you’re going to have an amazing month and Happy Pride everyone!!

June Reading Updates It's been a while since my last update since most of April and May left me with very little time for blogging.

#Book Review

[detectiverickitubbs]

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

@mellowoutpal

“This is the pits,” Crockett wasn’t afraid to say, sighing as he looked over at Tubbs, who doubtlessly was feeling similarly. “Zito and Swi are on club duty, Gina and Trudy have the night off, and we can’t even catch a break to go watch Dick Clark.” They were out on stakeout, and a fat load of nothing had happened in almost forty-eight hours. It wasn’t that he objected to spending that amount of time, uninterrupted, with Ricki, but no matter how you felt about someone it was bound to get boring. Especially on a holiday. “You can’t even see the Orange Drop from here,” he continued with a frown, leaning back in the seat and resisting the urge to put his feet on the dashboard.

After a moment and a lazy glance at the dash-clock– revealing 11:56 – he looked to Tubbs again. “Suppose I shouldn’t complain,” he said, a little softer this time, “least the company’s nice.” The minute after he said it, he regretted it– least the company’s nice. Real smooth, Crockett. Way to tell the girl that you’ve been at least a little bit in love with since the minute you laid eyes on her how you feel.

Though they couldn’t see the Orange Drop from here, true, they could see the fireworks erupt from South Beach as the new year arrived, the dash clock switching over to midnight. He looked to his partner in the passenger seat, noticing with fascination how the lights and colors lit up her face, making her eyes sparkle all the more. He felt his cheeks heat up. It was tradition. It was good luck. He could do this.

Leaning over and bringing up a hand to cup her cheek, looking to her gently, eyes tender and soft as if silently asking permission for what he was about to do next. He may have a bit of a… reputation… but it was not only for the most part largely untrue and a ruse to maintain the cover, but he was a gentleman at heart. Doing something to make her uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted. After a moment, he leaned in closer, brushing his lips to hers as the fireworks continued to burst in the shining Miami sky.

After a minute, he pulled away, half regretfully, thumbing over her cheekbone and smiling at her gently.

“Happy New Year, Ricki,” Sonny murmured, wanting nothing more than to lean back in and kiss her again.

The internal adrenaline junkie in Tubbs was suffering from the inaction tonight and she could tell it driving Crockett stir crazy too. She slowly allows the Canon camera with the extended surveillance lens to come to rest within her lap. There hardly seemed to be any reason to keep aiming it at the nothingness happening outside.

At his mildly disgruntled complaint, Tubbs nods in perfect agreement. This certainly wasn’t the festive evening she had been longing for! If she’d be able to do things her way, she’d presently be found right in the middle of the New Year’s celebrations. “Man…it could be worse. We could be sitting in the drink with concrete boogie shoes, getting shot at, or hell- having to drag Noogie around.” What could she say? In spite of her somewhat sour disposition regarding working through the world’s biggest party, she retained her eternal optimism; even to the most minor of degrees.

Her fingers grapple with a styrofoam cup of coffee that had long ago grown tepid. Begrudgingly, she forces herself to take a swallow. Regret immediately fills her mouth along with the pungent taste of the brew. Although the caffeine surge was absolutely necessary at this hour, she wonders why she had actually put herself through such torment. Tubbs considers spilling the liquid out the window but doesn’t wish to stain the car so instead, she gingerly slips it back into the cup holder. She’d dispose of it later.

“Do you have fond memories of the orange drop? You know, from when you were a kid?” She quizzes, her eyes drifting to study his handsome features in the glow of the street’s lights. A part of her is genuinely curious about the life Crockett had lived before Vice. That is if he’d decide to let her in.

Ricki instinctively shifts in her seat in accordance with the movement made by her partner. A smile, genial and soft appears upon her painted lips when he said, “the company was nice”. The former New Yorker didn’t take that as a personal affront. After all, coming from Crockett, it had to mean something remotely pleasant considering his wide array of heavy-duty insults. “You aren’t half bad yourself, pal.” She smoothly returns, using a word from his vocabulary that had rubbed off on her. A breathy, low chuckle punctuates her statement.

The city seems quiet. Almost as if, every inhabitant it had fallen under a spell compelling them to share in sixty seconds of near-perfect harmony. From where Crockett and Tubbs sit there isn’t an audible countdown other than the slow marking of time done by the undercover cops’ watches. However, the New Year’s arrival is marked by the constant rumble of fireworks soaring high into the dark sky. Her gaze can’t help but be drawn with amazement coupled with curiosity towards the display. But somewhere in her peripheral, she denotes Sonny’s movement and she turns her attention solely towards him in case he had seen something she had missed.

When Sonny’s large hand cups her cheek, Tubbs’s heart seizes wild with panic inside of her chest. Tubbs doesn’t draw away from his somewhat unexpected touch but rather, she allows herself to press into it. She had long desired, hell, even fantasized about this. Yet, never had she expected the possibility that their feelings could be mutual. A bashful and very slight inclining of her head is the wordless granting of permission he seemed to be searching for.

Long-dark lashes flicker downwards savoring the moment their lips touch. He tastes like the forbidden fruit of work romances but she’d be darned if it hadn’t left her desperately craving more. Her heart pounds out frantic s.o.ses against the confines of her ribs. The heat of an inferno blazes across the upper crests of her cheeks turning them a deeper shade of cranberry than usual. Ricki’s stomach feels as if, it had suddenly become some kind of snow globe capable of spraying the confetti of enthusiasm everywhere.

Tubbs allows her eyes to open again when Sonny seems to retreat. The smile upon his Crockett’s face is contagious and as a result, it draws a widened one to her own.

Ricki opens her mouth to respond but finds herself unusually flustered by the abundance of sensations coursing like swift rivers through her veins. She’s helplessly consumed with the idea of returning the favor. “H… Happy New Year, Sonny.” Her tone sotto voce.

Licking her lower-lip slightly, she decides to act purely on impulse. The potential consequences be damned! If she didn’t let him know how she genuinely felt now, she’d chicken out and never attempt to convey it again. Ricki pushes forward in her seat, her fingers gently reach out to pull him as flush against her as possible while seated. If he so allowed himself to be dragged into such intimate proximity.

“Listen…Crockett, I…” Tubbs starts, her nerves practically wavering from the get-go. Damn it! Why was this so exceedingly difficult? The words “love you, man” remain tucked away like a closely guarded secret upon her tongue. She can scarcely meet his gaze for fear it might deter her from her brief mission. Instead, Ricki focuses on his glorious lips, implying her intentions long before she has the guts to follow through. It also serves as an effort to give him time to back out. Or hell, even to say no if he was uncomfortable.

Crockett had opened the door and she would prove herself to be more than open to the exploration of whatever had remained unspoken between them. With an abrupt surge of confidence, she tips her head sideways, unabashedly bringing her lips to his with shameless desire. Haphazardly, Tubbs permits herself to linger for a few moments. Without thinking she lets her teeth softly nip at his lower-lip, giving a gentle but playful tug before all together releasing it. However, without further encouragement, Tubbs didn’t feel right proceeding any further. Nuzzling the tip of her nose against the contours of his cheek she whispers her darkest confession yet, “I think… I love you, man… and it scares the hell outta me.” It is the truth. For he deserved nothing less from her. 

#answered ask #mellowoutpal: sure beats the hell out of any ride at Coney Island #mellowoutpal #new years shenanigans #sorry this kinda turned into something of a monster #Please note you do not have to match the length at all #detectiverickitubbs #kisses #tw: long reply #submission #this would have been much longer considering everything tubbs wanted to include

[out-villained]

hero(ine)

another caffeine challenge for @caffeinewitchcraft! thank you for organizing these!

There’s nothing to do but wait, now. They’ve walked for far too long for anyone to keep going; the children, in particular, are dragging their feet or riding on their parents’ backs. The runes were drawn, the goat sacrificed, its blood spilling into the sand beneath her feet as she stands, and she glances to the priest next to her.

“You’re sure this is right?”

“This is the ritual described in the holy book, sister. He will come.”

She sighs, adjusts her headscarf when the wind picks up, and then flinches at a sudden crack of lightning. People cry out, donkeys bray, and when the sand settles and she looks up, a man stands in a circle of sand-turned-glass. He’s disgruntled, clearly, brow furrowed over piercing eyes, but this is clearly the man they summoned. There are several warriors amongst the group that followed her into this desert, but none like him, none as self-assured or calm, none who twirl their sword about with the ease with which he does.

“Antreus,” the priest calls. “Noble Warrior, we have need of you.”

Those harsh eyes snap over to the holy man, and the warrior scoffs a little. “Everyone has need of me.”

“Yes, but—”

“Warrior,” she says, stepping forward and carefully over the carcass of the goat, “perhaps we can speak in more privacy.”

He looks down at her scornfully, dark curls falling over his forehead with all the elegance of a god. “Why should I listen to you any more than the holy man?”

“I know you have no patience for the holy order and their rituals and rules,” she says. “We are more alike than you think.” She ushers him a few steps away from the others, turns her back to them carefully. “The king is calling heavenly power for only his own good, to keep the royal coffers full as the rest of the citizens starve. Trying to do anything about it, speak out against it, warrants only immediate death. The prophecy—”

“The prophecy is thousands of years old,” Antreus says. “You cannot think it has not lived through countless greedy kings.”

“None like this. None that marry their own sister to keep her from wedding a foreign prince.” It does fulfil the terms of the prophecy, down to the letter. She knows. She’s checked the records, and double-checked them, and had several priests explain the terms to her just in case she missed something, and she has to be right about this. “We need your help. If not now, never.”

“I would be alright with never.” He inspects his nails as though there’s dirt under them, but she knows it’s a ruse, because the rest of his armor is pristine, not a scuff on his breastplate or armguards.

“I didn’t realize you were so complacent. Isn’t it your job to protect this kingdom?”

His head snaps up at that and she winces, realizing she’s just provoked the most fearsome warrior of their history. “It was my job. My time on this earth is done, and I see no reason for my return at this time.”

“My apologies,” she murmurs, fidgeting with the corner of her headscarf. “But people have tried, and they have died, and we are getting tired of death rotting in our streets.”

The crowd behind her is getting restless; she can hear them whispering amongst themselves, parents hushing bewildered children, a babe crying in what she knows is hunger.

“That is no concern of a dead warrior,” Antreus argues. “It is far more peaceful where they go, and they no longer have to trouble themselves with mortal worries.”

She sets her jaw. It was a mistake to call him, she’s coming to understand. A few decades in the realm of the gods, being worshiped and fawned over by minor goddesses, and he’s grown complacent and lazy. At this rate, she’s slightly surprised he even answered the call to appear. “My apologies,” she says again. “I did not mean to call you from your feasts and clearly plentiful lovers. Should you like to return to your parties and drinking, and abandon the people you once swore to protect, I cannot stop you.”

There’s scorn in her voice, a carefully controlled amount. He’s a proud man, the Warrior, and she thinks there is no greater insult for a person who dedicated their lives to action than to be called lazy. She’s right; his eyes spark with fire, knuckles tensing on the hilt of his sword.

“Shall we stand here blathering all day, then?” His tone matches hers. “Or will you attend to the little girl dying of thirst while you have plenty in your bottle? The way I see it, you have more immediate concerns than a king. You led them out here, and you will be the one they turn on when it goes wrong.”

Her hand goes to the bottle on her hip. It’s heavy and full, it’s true, but she can see him preparing to leave, and she’s desperate. “A duel, then.” She doesn’t bother to quiet her voice. “If you best me, return to your realms and your fun. Should I win, however, we get our hero.”

This catches his interest, she knows, as he turns back to her with a gleam of something in his dark eyes. “Who of you will fight me?”

He’s appraised their warriors already, taken in their dust-stained armor and rusting blades, the weariness that drags at their feet.

“As I said, Warrior. I will.”

A finely shaped eyebrow raises as he stares down at her. “You.”

Already she’s wriggling her way out of her long skirt to reveal loose pants beneath, and a friend hurries forward with the sword she keeps in her pack.

“Me.” She looks back up at him resolutely, determined to ignore the fact that he’s a head and a half taller than her, infinitely more muscular. “Or are you afraid to fight a girl? A decade or two of no practice and you’re afraid of a teenage girl?”

His nose wrinkles in derision, but she can see he’s made up his mind. Men, always defending their pride. “Very well.” He rolls his neck, the joints cracking audibly. “To the death?”

“What’s the point of that? You can’t die.”

“Worth a try.”

She scoffs a laugh. “First blood.”

He nods and they move to the flat patch of ground just a little further away, dirt rather than sand under their feet to provide more stability. Her crowd assembles at the edge of the area, babes held carefully by their mothers while little boys cling to skirts and peer out at the two warriors. She does her best to ignore that, secures her headscarf, twirls her sword a few times and lets it settle comfortably in her hand as she studies her opponent. Antreus is calm, steady in his stance, watching her with eyes filled with disdain.

The priest steps forward, an unofficially elected referee. “Have you prepared?”

She nods, cool on the surface even as she wonders if this was a mistake. Antreus nods, armor gleaming in the midday sun.

The priest steps back to the edges of the crowd. “You may begin!”

They circle each other, his gait predatory, hers smooth. This is familiar to her; her training always pitted her against bigger and stronger warriors. He lunges forward as though to close the distance, and she steps forward to meet him. He backs up before they can clash, clear interest on his face now, and they resume their circling. He’s going to be a little slower than her, courtesy of his size, she knows, but his prowess would counteract that, and he’s going to be infinitely stronger. Her speed will be her advantage, hopefully, and she just needs to get lucky. Usually, she’s pretty good at that.

This time she’s the one to make a move, dashing across the circle to reach him, and their blades ring when they meet, and now they’re actually fighting, metal upon metal as they thrust and parry and slash, and she’s coming to realize why he’s considered the greatest of all time. He compensates easily for her faster speed and it’s like he can predict where she’s going to be, but she’s having to duck and dodge the sweeps of his mighty sword, a sword that has epics written about it alone. Dust coats her breastplate when she’s forced to roll out of the way of a strike, and her breath is coming faster. He doesn’t look like he’s out of practice, not in the slightest, and she knows she’s a little disjointed, desperation clouding her muscle memory.

There are no chinks in his armor, no weak spots she can exploit, and she curves her body backwards to avoid the blade that slashes just past her stomach and jumps backwards, giving some space. He presses almost immediately, but it’s just long enough of a pause to see the very slight shift of earth beneath his feet and the way he loses his balance just the tiniest bit. It’s not enough of a stumble that anyone other than a trained fighter would notice, but she does, and she bares her teeth in a grin coated in sweat. If she can keep him in this spot, this patch of loose dirt, she should be able to catch him in a misstep at some point and take advantage.

However, it means going on the offensive, pressing him back when he tries to advance when he realizes what she’s doing, and that takes considerably more effort. She circles him neatly, hemming him in when he tries to move to the side, blade never slowing even as she feels the fatigue starting to set in. He’s good, and she’s only mortal, but she’s determined and desperate and that lends her strength, until he takes a wrong step to reset his stance and his sandals slip in the dirt and she lunges toward him, pressing her advantage when he glances down to steady himself.

She figures just maybe she’s gotten her luck, her sword leveled at the arm he throws out for balance, but there’s a flash of light off metal and a flash of fire in her free arm and the priest is calling for the end of the fight before she processes the event. Antreus parries her blade easily and she stutters to a stop, staring up at him in confusion, which earns a little smile out of him. She thinks she understands why women fawn over his pictures, now, because he is beautiful when he’s not so stern and she’s not so angry.

“First blood!” the priest calls, and she glances down at the stinging in her arm to see crimson dripping from a shallow cut. “Antreus has won!”

The grumbling from the crowd commences again, louder this time, and she closes her eyes, the tip of her sword coming to rest in the dirt as she sags in defeat. She’s just let their best chance slip through their fingers by offering a fight she couldn’t win, trying for impossible odds because she got cocky.

“Enjoy your party.” She refuses to look at the friend who comes to bandage her arm, smiling bitterly at the Warrior.

There’s something odd in the smile he gives her in return, however, something she would call admiration from anyone other than a man so proud. “There is no need to look so glum,” he says, and she frowns.

“Why not?”

“The prophecy does not specify a man as the savior.” He claps her on the shoulder, his strength buckling her knees just a little. “You do not need me, nor did you ever. You already have your hero.” His words aren’t making any sense. “Anyone who can last so long in a fight against a demigod, who can nearly best a demigod, can surely best a fat king and a few of his guards.”

Her eyes widen, but before she can say anything more he’s gone in another flash of lightning. It’s the priest who turns to her, and she knows he’s just pandering because he’s the type who wants powerful friends, but somehow it seems right.

“The Warrior is right. We have our hero here.” The crowd shifts, the men and women glancing at each other. Some seem confused, others are watching her with a new respect. “We have our hero!”

The repetition clears it up for most, and some of the warriors she trains with cheer, sparking similar cries from the others, until all voices are raised in a battle cry. The title settles into her bones, fits like another skin, and she cracks her neck in the same manner as Antreus.

The tip of her sword raised to the midday sun, she adds her voice to the others.

Hero.

#caffeine challenge #caffeine challenge 18 #my writing #writing #short story #heros #kinda like this one #probably gonna return to it later? #we'll see