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kalevalakryze · 8 months

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Giggledust

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Ahsoka Series Pairings: Sabine Wren/Shin Hati, Sabine Wren & Ahsoka Tano & Ezra Bridger & Shin Hati & Hera Syndulla & Jacen Syndulla Characters: Sabine Wren, Shin Hati, Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger, Hera Syndulla, Jacen Syndulla, Chopper Warnings: Non-Consensual Drug Use, NSFW themes (Non-explicit), Ideology of Death, Addiction, Child Trafficking Notes: For Whumptober Day 6, Alternative Prompt, Prompt: Drugging (Alternate Prompt) Word Count: 2,970 AO3 Link: Here!

“I guess there’s a rumor about some kind of ‘First Order’ trying to rise from the ashes of the Empire,” Sabine explained as Shin, Ezra, and herself made their way through the streets of Mon Gazza’s underworld, past old pod-racing tracks and through overcrowded markets.

“I thought this was a New Republic allied world?” Ezra butted in, tripping over a Gungan’s outstretched foot as he caught up to Sabine and the silent wolf at her side.

Shin only turned to raise an eyebrow at the Jedi as he finally caught up, walking a beat behind Sabine, level with Shin. “Right…” Scratching the back of his neck, Ezra immediately perked up upon seeing one of the vendor’s stalls. “Hey, maybe it’ll be best to split up? Meet back in half an hour if no one finds the contact?”

Both Shin and Sabine shared a look at the suggestion, though Sabine pinching the bridge of her nose sealed the deal. “Just don’t forget the-” He was gone before she could finish speaking.

Sharing one last look with Sabine, Shin brushed off down a seemingly random alley, leaving the Mandalorian with her comms, and a well overused callsign.

Half an hour passed and she hadn’t had any luck, on her way back to the rendezvous, however, she managed to get a hit. The man was covered up well enough that she couldn’t make out any identifiers, but the twisting in her gut told her this stranger was something. “Hey, It’s a long way to Hosnian,”

Sabine wanted to sigh in relief at the curt nod of their head, watching as his hand disappeared into his robes; presumably for the data-tape, though she was met with a face full of powder. It was an absurd amount, finding its way into her system in her first breath, falling into the cracks of her armor and sticking to her suit. “Here! They’re here! The Smuggler!” He barked out, calling for New Republic security, who despite never patrolling these sections, just so happened to have a full squad standing by as Sabine was framed.

“Karabast,” She’d know the feeling of giggledust in her veins any day, had spent a good deal of time working with Ketsu handling all kinds of spice, under the guise of ‘building an immunity’. This was at a concentration and abundance that the two Mandalorians had never even had in one place at the same time.

The world around her came into such a razor sharp focus, she felt as if the world around her was pixelating. “Stop it right there!” A voice shouted, bringing a muffled giggle from the Mandalorian as he approached.

“What am I holding?” Her hands squeezed into fists, lucidity failing her as the drug fast-tracked into her system. A stun shot moved towards her, seemingly in slow motion, allowing her to jump out of the way and bring it to hit a civilian. “Oh! Stormtrooper Academy, huh?”

Scrambling to get up, The Mandalorian took off, tripping and stumbling, yet still managing to keep several paces ahead. “Ah fuck fuck fuck!” Sabine breathed, brushing past people as she ran, unrestrained laughter bringing a wheeze to her breathing as her lungs constricted.

An invisible force yanked the Mandalorian from the side street, a tall, lithe body trapping her between the bricks as the stranger’s hand came to press into her mouth, muffling the giggling as Republic troopers rushed past.

In the dim lighting, Sabine could make out the dyed purple of Shin’s Padawan braid, and the little glint of beskar around their throat. “Kurs’kaded!” Her voice was muffled, until she dragged the flat of her tongue across the palm of their glove, earning her a crinkled nose and a grossed out expression.

“You don’t know where that’s been,” Shin deadpanned, wiping Sabine’s slobber off onto her cape. “You were not at the rendezvous, and then we watch you run from the Republic, what’s going on?” Pressing her hands into Shin’s hips and tugging the woman closer, Sabine busied herself with trailing her lips along their throat.

“Dunno,” She hummed against their pulse point, delighting in the way they shivered as she pressed a toothy smile against warm skin. “But there’s better stuff that could be going on,” Shin’s hand pressed into Sabine’s chest the moment the Mandalorian’s thigh slotted between their legs.

Silver met gold in a moment of terse understanding. “You were drugged,” She stated, wiping the sandy looking powder from the paint on Sabine’s armor.

“Fulcrum, Spectre five is compromised,”

“Copy Wolf One, moving in for pickup. Did you find the contact?”

“Bridger is engaging now,”

Comms went silent as Sabine blinked dreamily up at Shin, lips pulling at the corners as she fisted her hands in their tunic against their hips. “Hey, Shin, psst-” She whispered, struggling to lean up with the hand on her chest. “I know what they meant when they told me to hold on,” This time, the pull of Shin’s hips was halted with the other woman’s tensing form, pressing her back into the wall harder to stop herself from giving in, and turning Sabine’s smile into a dramatic pout.

“Shin,” A whine halted only by giggles at the sound of her own voice, somewhere in the haze that her brain had quickly turned into, Sabine had enough humility to cringe at herself. “C’mon, ‘Soka’s gonna be a minute, and you look really good-” Their brows furrowed as the Mandalorian slid back against the wall, dropping her body to her knees until her nose was brushing against the taller woman’s knee. “I’d never ask you for anything again, swear on my grave- oh! Swear on the graves of my buire!” The smile slipped from her lips as the arousal and giddiness were swept away as the pendulum swung.

“Though, they didn’t really get graves- They were probably hett’la , into nothing.” Tears stung at her eyes as the blonde gaped downwards at her, trying to process their best course of action with the wild change to Sabine’s mood. “Poof,” Her voice cracked, hands grasping at the blonde’s shins to ground herself to them.

“They died with family though- that’s good.” A sniffle as the fabric of Shin’s pants became wet with heavy tears. “The whole family, except me; that’s fine; I didn’t want to die with them anyways. They didn’t want me for so long- why should I?”

“Ahsoka,” Shin’s voice was equal parts relieved and strained as a figure joined them in the alley. “She’s been hit with spice- a decent amount of it,” Their nose crinkled again as Ahsoka joined Sabine’s position, kneeling at Shin’s feet, putting herself close enough to be in Sabine’s line of sight the next time watery golden eyes blinked open.

“Sabine, can I pick you up?” Ahsoka’s voice was gentle, reaching out her hand to the woman’s shoulder at the same time as their force bond.

“Yes please,” She whispered, though she refused to release her hold on the backs of Shin’s calves, still pressing her face into their knee as Ahsoka tried to work her hands away.

“Ad’ika,” Ahsoka soothed, reaching to brush her fingers through sweat and spice infused hair, nose crinkling as she caught the smell of the drug in the air. That wasn’t going to be fun for her immune system to fight through later. “I need you to let go, Padawan,”

With continued coaxing, Sabine’s hands were finally guided from Shin’s legs to Ahsoka’s neck, allowing the Mandalorian to wrap around her just as tight as she wanted. “Shin, clear us a path that won’t trigger the patrols,” Turning her head to talk into the comm on her wrist, she addressed Ezra. “Spectre six, meet us back home, do not bring the package straight home, I need you to make a pit stop,”

“Fulcrum, I think I read your mind already,” Ezra chimed in on the other end, a smile clear in his voice. “I’ll meet everyone back home, can’t wait!”

The push back to the ship was long and treacherous, with Sabine’s moods switching from laughing at the happenings around them, to hiding her face in Ahsoka’s neck and crying, to seeming perfectly normal the next moment, enough that she would often voice how much she hated this, until seeing something that made her laugh all over again.

Inside the T-6, Ahsoka managed to set Sabine on a risen bench, helping the Mandalorian as she fell back. “ ‘soka? My head hurts,”

“I bet, what did you take?” Ahsoka started pulling the woman’s armor away, holding out her hand to stop Shin when the wolf moved to help. “If she got on you, you need to change, you’ll be more sensitive to it,” They looked like they wanted to argue, looking down at the tunic, covered in the dusty brown substance. Nodding once, Shin slipped away to the crew quarters.

“Huyang, we’ll need to clean everything, they’ll all be at risk if this gets in the vents.”

“Of course, Lady Tano. I’ll get filter upgrades on the to-do list as well.”

“Thank you,” Ahsoka sighed, working on setting Sabine’s armor to the side, nose crinkling from the acidic smell of the spice. “That’s been cut,”

“Mmhmm,” Sabine grumbled below her, trying to shove her arm out of her flight suit without unzipping it. “Giggledust, can’t recognize the other one,” A harsh bark of laughter as the Mandalorian shook her head. “Should be able to, can’t. Hilarious,”

“Let’s go down the list, then.” Ahsoka helped ease the top of her flight suit off, stopping the spice from falling onto her underclothes. “Grab my shoulders,” Ahsoka helped Sabine stand, keeping the younger woman from spreading more of the spice as the human’s fingers dug into her shoulders. “Ryll?”

“Master, your shoulders are so-” Sabine snorted, almost doubling over were it not for the Togruta helping her out of her contaminated flight suit. A bout of giggles had the woman covering her mouth and turning her head, holding on to Ahsoka to keep herself stable. “No, I don’t think it’s any Prime Kessel strains; can’t mix them, or… I’d probably be dead.” Laughter died as quickly as it started.

“Fuck, Ahsoka,” The hands on her shoulders trembled until Ahsoka was rising back to her full height, steadying Sabine through another swing. “I hate this,”

“It’s glitterstim,” Shin called out as she exited the crew quarters, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “That is why she’s swinging so wildly, though there is another I cannot figure out…” The blonde moved to settle onto the other end of the bench, brows pulled in concentration.

“Felucian?” Ahsoka suggested, helping Sabine back into the bench.

“No, I remember everything… too much,” Her elbows fell heavily onto the table, hands weaving into her hair to pull on short violet strands. “Spice is expensive and risky, why would they waste it on me if it wasn’t going to kill me?”

“If they got you addicted, then you, a key player, would be out of the game; they’re hoping you’ll try to chase this to your own demise.” Shin’s shoulders shrugged nonchalantly as Sabine groaned.

“Great, this is great,” Laughter, once again bubbled past her lips like glass in a hydraulic press. Ahsoka settled herself on Sabine’s other side, guiding the Mandalorian’s fingers from her hair before she could pull on it. “Fuck!” She shouted again, knuckles white as she grabbed Ahsoka’s hands with her own, squeezing as she tried to fight her way through the next swing as it burned in her veins.

“Engspice, fuck, fuck, and hey, guess what? Fuck!” Sabine’s legs bounced as she forced herself to focus through the painful mix of sharp and blurry of her distorted vision. “Engspice fucks a person, they get hooked until they die, and I can’t… Ahsoka if that’s what kills me? I’ll never see them again,”

Shin’s hand rested on the center of her back as her Moon swung, frowning at the sweat dampening her undershirt. “We won’t let that happen, me’suum’ika” “How many people get over a spice addiction on the other side?” Sabine spat hotly, resting her forehead against the table to avoid looking at either force-sensitive on her side.

Shin’s muscles tensed unexpectedly as the woman shrugged her shoulders. “Unimportant,” their legs crossed under the table, fingertips pressing into Sabine’s back before smoothing her undershirt out again. “But you aren’t alone in it,”

“First, however, we need to remove all traces from the ship, and get you sobered up,” Ahsoka chimed in, gently squeezing Sabine’s hands before letting go and rising to grab the Mandalorian’s armor.

Dramatically, Sabine let herself fall into Shin’s side, pushing her way up and under their arm to be in their personal space as Ahsoka and Huyang worked on getting the contaminated clothing out of the ship and cleaned up.

“What do you remember about the person who dusted you?” Shin questioned, begrudgingly allowing Sabine to press up into her side as another bout of unrestrained giggles passed tired lips.

“Kinda like you, when we first met; just a lot less pretty.” Sabine’s nose crinkled for a moment as she pressed the side of her feverish face into Shin’s shirt. “You smelled a lot better too, once I got past the burning insides thing-”

“What did he smell like?” Shin’s fingers brushed through the hair on the back of Sabine’s head, nails scratching against her scalp soothingly as the Mandalorian’s hand moved under the table to rest on the blonde’s thigh, the other supporting her head with an elbow on the table.

“Jealous?” The tensing of their leg under her hand had the purple haired woman laughing, massaging away the flexing muscle as she examined the new fabric beneath her fingers. “Your new pants are nice; would be nice on the ground though,”

“Sabine,” There was a warning in their tone, a sharp eyebrow raised as the hand carding through her hair tightened, pulling lightly on short hair and stopping only when the Mandalorian offered a lopsided smile in response. “It may help identify him, you know.”

“Of course I know that; there’s just some more important things on my mind, like me, you, my bevagol; no one else is in the ship right now,” Her hand pressed up higher along Shin’s leg, The hand in her hair tightened again, guiding Sabine’s head back enough until she was forced to let out a soft gasp, following the direction of the pull on her head.

“You will tell me what you recognized about this person’s smell first, then we will discuss.”

Groaning, Sabine shook her head free from Shin’s claws, slumping into their side like an angry toddler as she crossed her arms over her chest. “They smelled like sweat, like they really needed a shower. Like the sewers on Coruscant, that specific kinda acid they’ve got down there, but dusty enough that he could have come from one of the spice mines on planet? Or was that just the dust in my nose-”

“Unless the Imperials are employing the miners, now that the New Republic has control over the trade again.”

“The Imperial’s can’t employ anyone, the First Order can.” Sabine snorted, shaking her head as she forced her way into Shin’s lap, looping her arms around their neck and waiting until the blonde shifted to hold her Mandalorian close.

“Sabine-” Shin grumbled unenthusiastically, arms wrapping under Sabine’s thighs and around her back as she tucked herself into them. “Yes, The First Order,” A scoff as her chin came to rest upon the crown of Sabine’s head. “Though I would put it closer to an outsider, Imperials and the like have a distinct odor, no matter how long they’ve been in the system, if you did not pick up on it, it was either someone disconnected from the mission, or a mercenary.”

“And what does my ver’verd’ika think about it?” Sabine pressed her face into their throat, smiling as she felt more than heard the heavy swallow from her teeth so close to the pulse point.

“They’ll be connected somehow; The Empire cracked down on the spice trade to control it, and if your mark was willing to waste such an extensive amount to hit you with, they’ll have more, or the promise of another shipment.”

Ezra’s head poked into the ship as the sluggish gears in Sabine’s head started to move. “Hey guys? We’ve got a hit, black robes, vial of dust; they picked him up trying to nab a kid; Ahsoka’s running damage control, but Shin, we should keep an ear out in case he slips Republic custody,”

Sabine snorted as Ezra stepped into the ship the rest of the way, pulling off the cloak from around his shoulders as he dropped into the seat Sabine had once occupied, allowing the Mandalorian to push her legs out across his lap. “Aaand ‘soka thought you’d be hungry,” From the bag strapped to his leg, the Jedi retrieved three neatly wrapped crupa breast sandwiches. “Close to not being like, safe; but we’ve had worse,”

“Damn right,” Sabine grumbled, snatching a wrapped parcel from the table. As the Mandalorian and Jedi dug in, Shin reached out in the force, feeling for Ahsoka and any update she could get on the mission status.

The gray apprentice’s eyes opened at the tap of bread and meat against her lips. “I have a bad feeling about this,” they managed, before Sabine was urging them to take a bite.

“It’s not that expired, Kurs’kaded,”

Shin only hummed their response, there was no use in clarifying; Ahsoka would confirm for them if this new ‘First Order’ was dabbling on their attempts of forced child enlistment into their hidden forces; They’d have to trust that whatever was brewing, the force would see them through it.

Translations: Kurs'kaded - Wolf Me'suum'ika - Moon Bevagol - Dick

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starlight-phantom · 11 months

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Ai the somnium files for the fandoms ask? You can include nirvana initiative if you want :3

I think I did one of these for AI about a month ago??? But my memory's terrible so I might as well just do it again 👍

3 male characters I love:

Kaname Date, I'm usually not a fan of the pervy character in things, but Date works so well because 1) He thinks all these things and makes comments but he never actually does stuff to people to make them uncomfortable, and 2) It's not his defining characteristic, he's so much more than horny. Like he's a great detective, he cares about his peers and wants to keep them safe, he's a great father figure even if he doesn't really know what he's doing, he's just such a great character. Also Greg Chun's performance is 👌👌👌

Kuruto Ryuki, *slaps roof* this boy can fit so many mental illnesses. I love this boy but goddamn he is a filthy liar whenever he says "I'm fine". But his story was so engaging and you really feel for him when it clicks into place. Like I've been giving the game a second playthrough with the knowledge of the twist and wow so many scenes hit different. Also, this is the first time I've heard Stephen Fu in a big role (The only other time I've heard him is Douma from KNY and he's only appeared a couple of times so far) and wow, I really wanna hear more of his work because his performance was incredible.

Pewter, I dunno he dresses like a fruity Pokémon villain and he's got an awkward yet charming personality. Not to mention, his story in the right path of the first game made me feel so bad for him... Like damn, just let this man be happy please, he deserves it. Also, I know I'm a broken record, but Sean Chiplock's performance, his delivery on the weirder lines are so funny (Yes I am thinking about the chairs line, how did you know?)

3 female characters I love:

Aiba, I fucking adore Aiba. She's the best. I love how she's the straight man to Date's shenanigans IRL but when they're in somniums, Date is the straight man to her shenanigans, I love her excitement whenever she sees bugs, I love how she knows Date so well she can manipulate him into being a better fighter, I love her lil jelly hamster form, I love Erika Harlacher's performance, I just really, really love Aiba.

Mizuki Date, I don't even know where to start with Mizuki... She's honestly one of the best written child characters I've seen in a game. And this poor girl has been through so much in both games but her route in the first game had me sobbing buckets. Not to mention, Corrina Boegetter's performance, they really knocked it out of the park for every single facet of Mizuki's personality. Also they genuinly managed to sound like a twelve year old, that's impressive all by itself.

Shizue Kuranushi, Listen... I am not immune to hot women voiced by Allegra Clark, okay? I'm only human. But seriously... Her design, her personality, her dedication to her co-workers, her office and the funny interactions that come from all the stuff she just doesn't throw away, and the fact that's somehow simultaneously a girlboss and a cringefail milf???? Impressive. She has the range, darling.

Also, quick shout-out to Tama, I adore her and her crazy laugh so much

3 romantic ships I love:

Kaname Date/Hitomi Sagan, god those two are so cute, really bummed they barely interacted in the sequel...

Kaname Date/Kuruto Ryuki, Date has two hands. But seriously, the admiration Ryuki has for Date and the way they watch out for each other is really sweet

Iris Sagan/Amame Doi, cute bubblegum colours but also they have each others backs and they always have fun hanging out with each other

There was another ship I wanted to add but it's spoilery and a mutual was considering potentially checking out the series so I thought it would be best to leave it out. But if you've played the first game, you can probably guess who it is.

3 platonic dynamics I love:

Kaname Date/Mizuki Date, I mean... Chances are if you've been following me for a while you know that I am just a huge sucker for family dynamics. And the dynamic of adopted father/daughter viewing each other as their real family but being too embarrassed to admit is something I adore.

Kuruto Ryuki/Tama, I love these two so much. I love how IRL Ryuki is just so done with all of Tama's dirty jokes and then in somniums Tama is so done with all of Ryuki's weird suggestions and skits. But also it's their concern for each other, you can tell they're partners. I feel like the best example of this is when Tama insists that Ryuki goes to the hospital no matter how much he protests, like... She just wants him to be safe and healthy...

Ota Matsushita/Mayumi Matsushita, god the Ota route destroyed me when I played through it but seeing them as a family getting through their issues was so sweet. I won't go into detail because it's personal but a few months ago I went offline for a while because of a family emergency and it's because of similar situation to Mayumi. So yeah, playing that hit hard.

3 favorite moments in canon:

The ending scenes of both games. If you know, you know.

Again, I wanna avoid spoilers but the Annihilation Route interrogation. Holy shit that scene was incredible.

The final scene in the final Somnium of Nirvana Initiative. Just... Goddamn that hit hard and the delivery of the "I have no regrets!" Crushed me.

3 favorite headcanons:

I honestly can't think of any headcannons off the top of my head... And I've been typing this response for way longer I intended... Sorry...

3 least favorite things about it:

Some of the somniums can have some obscure logic but like... Not in the way that you proud when you figure it out, but more angry in a "how the hell was I supposed to figure that out?" Kinda way.

I really hate how Ryuki and Tama just got kinda shoved to the side halfway through Nirvana Initiative. Like they stole the show for a lot of their scenes and then once the Mizuki Route started they barely appeared and when they did, they weren't really shown in the best light, especially Ryuki. Granted there's a plot reason for this but still... It's disappointing. If there's an AI3, I hope they get more screentime.

I feel like Tearer really didn't get enough screentime in Nirvana Initiative, especially when unmasked. Like c'mon this is the main antagonist, give us more of him! Especially considering his entire backstory, that's a lot of really interesting stuff to build off of! Also just... I wanted to hear more of Billy Kametz' villainous performance. It was rare to hear him in those roles but he was so damn good in them.

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ohmygosh-livv · 9 months

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Interesting !

(Tw!!! Suicide//ocd///intrusive thoughts)

I think TikTok has created this like obsessive need to be seen and observed when feeling bad, and I am not immune ! I also believe it’s neglect. I just, I want everyone to know how deeply I feel emotions and I want them to feel emotions like that to. Just so visceral, too condensed and concentrated. I want to shout it loud.

I think this is what it is to be 21, I’m pretty sure. It’s less like growing and more like aching twists. But somehow, I feel okay. I want everyone to know my intrusive thoughts about killing myself, but I’m also happy.

For reference, in this context I mean “intrusive thought” as an OCD symptom, not being impulsive. For me intrusive thoughts sometimes present themselves as images in my brain that I can’t stop seeing. I walk down the stairs and I can see myself falling down and breaking my legs, I feel a bit sad and see actual physical visions of stabbing myself. Freaky deaky. I want everyone to know, but I also want no one to know because how could they ever understand.

It’s why I don’t understand when people post/repost omg so real relatable sad things,,, it feels like a big trick. Do you really get it, am I safe to sit with you and know you’ll understand what I think and feel ? It feels like one big mask and it makes me angry. Work boy can post all he wants on his story, but I know in my gut he simply does. Not. Get it. He can’t. I want him to sit in my thoughts for a day and then see. I want him to do that and physically explode. I know this isn’t a me only issue, I get I’m not the only person in the world who feels like this. But it’s so isolating, right?

Being wired different. I want to talk to my friends about it, I want them to know me as intimately as I know myself. But then again, so I even know myself? Yeah I reckon I do.

As of late my biggest struggle has been to try and fully understand who I am, to create an image I can be solid on. It’s hard ! And it’s ever growing, I get that. Being rocky on who I am does make me a little excited though, because it means I get to decide who I want to be, blank canvas style.

I like women, and boys. When I say women and boys, I don’t mean as a sex or a gender. Just concepts I think. Aliens. Fact: I love boys, I love how they are built and I love their shoulders. I love their backs and I love their hair and I love their hands. And I love women, I love their hair too, and their backs and their noses and smiles and I love their built-in kindness and care and sweetness. I love everyone, and I am so insanely excited to meet more people to get to know intimately.

The same way I know my friends.

Living with my best friend fronk has been a dream come true. I just don’t have a worry in the world about how I present myself, how I act how I speak or move. How loud I am or how quiet I am. I will never settle for less than that, I’ve had the best and I don’t think it can ever be beaten. I guess in that sense, I will have to settle for less. But I’m okay with that.

Those are my thoughts for the evening! I’m going to maybe go listen to some music and maybe have a wank (eek!?). I’m not sure yet. But I’m feeling happy, I’m feeling unsure of myself but in a way that feels controllable.

Good night ! I love you all <3 (especially cheesebot)

#livvyyells

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nopelleen · 3 years

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Perish, Pretty Please (5/5)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rick Flag was known to be a pretty good leader, it was the reason why he had been chosen to lead a squad of infamously reckless and idiotic criminals, however it was a lot harder to maintain his authority when one member of the team despised his guts for seemingly no reason.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Rick Flag x Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.7k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: it took me so long, but it’s finally there -- the last part! I started this fanfiction knowing I had a tendency not to finish them and I’m honestly so proud right now, I hope you’ll enjoy this last part as much as I enjoyed writing all of this! (also please let’s all have a moment of silence to remember the moment my hopeful, foolish ass actually posted the first part with “1/2″ in the title)

“Nope, there’s something we gotta take care of first."

You watched with blatant bafflement as the three men nonchalantly walked away from the blazing truck that had been transporting them merely minutes ago. There was almost a bit of disappointment in your heart as you watched the plan you and Cleo had so meticulously orchestrated on your way here vanish into thin air. It was a shame – your rescue plan involved a lot more wow factor. Had you known the outcome of this small drawback, you wouldn’t have put so much effort into it; but how could you have guessed the three of them would find a way out of a van guarded by multiples soldiers all the while handcuffed and therefore supposedly incapacitated? That was absurd.

“Don’t look so surprised, it’s insulting.”

You shot Flag a tight lipped, mocking smile as a response to his friendly jab, clearly recognizing the words you had used against him in the afternoon. Your sardonic grimace poorly mirrored the playful smirk the colonel adorned as he walked towards the van, and you were surprised to feel your heart swell a bit when you noticed his smile spread into a genuine one as he walked past you, slightly shaking his head in amusement.

Without even questioning how they had gotten themselves out of that prickly situation, you whirled around and followed suit as Rick climbed back into the van, telling Milton the small change of plan. That one enthusiastically nodded before happily informing the squad that you’d reach the city by dawn, making you realize you had spent a good chunk of the night at that bar and yet did not feel that tired yet – which might just have been from the adrenaline released into your system at the sight of your three teammates walking out of a blazing vehicle.

“You sleep, I watch Thinker,” Nanaue suggested as he heavily lumbered towards the back of the van, where the hostage was surprisingly staying very still, wise enough not to attempt anything while sharing the same space as King Shark.

Your steps faltered as you entered the van, your gaze hesitatingly flickering towards the seats in the back which appeared way too crowded for your liking. You usually would’ve simply gone back to your seat at the front, but Rick was now occupying the one near the window, probably as a way to stay close to the driver.

With a reluctant sigh, you were about to follow King Shark towards the back when Rick casted a pointed look towards you before patting the seat beside him in case you did not understand.

Relief washed over you and you didn’t even need to give it a second thought before flopping onto the space beside him, glad not to have to settle for a spot anywhere near Peacemaker. Your muscles were stiff as you quite literally bounced onto the cushion, and as soon as your back did as much as graze the backrest, the entire day of walk, hours of dancing and minutes of worrying about Flag’s well-being caught up with you with a dizzying speed.

If earlier that day you had been able to fight off sleep vigorously, you now found yourself melting into the cushion of your seat as soon as you flopped onto it. At first, you remained steadfast, refusing to yield to your basic human needs as you forced yourself to sit up straight, but then there was a strong gravitational pull making you sway a bit on your seat as your head started lolling forward, and then another pull – Rick’s hand, this time – gently steering you back into your seat. Incapable of fending off the drowsiness any longer, you surrendered and finally allowed yourself to loosen up, feeling your head snugly land upon Rick’s shoulder as you drifted off into a soundless sleep.

-----

“Outburst, hey!”

“She’s sleeping.”

From his seat at the very back of the van, Peacemaker frowned as he craned his neck in an attempt to peer at your figure still slumped over Rick’s shoulder. “Well, wake her up,” he groused, tinges of annoyance seeping from his usually polished tone. “She’s… spewing her emotions all over the place. It’s reeking of sadness in there.”

◦◦◦

“It’s reeking in there; crack a window open, will you?”

Your finger harshly jabbed the switch, your gaze remained firmly fixed on the buildings passing by in a blur as the window lowered just a bit in an abrupt, choppy motion. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your mother shooting you a brief, curious look. You hadn’t uttered a word ever since you two had left the family reunion. You knew it hadn’t been a good idea to agree to come.

The car then lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. You were both acutely aware of the thick, sweltering acrimony flooding off of you and yet still refused to address it, instead letting you bask in it with your mouth clamped shut, letting it gnaw your insides until your lungs felt charred, incapable of drawing oxygen any longer.

Why had you agreed to this? You were an adult; you didn’t need to expose yourself to this anymore.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to breathe in deeply, only for your chest to constrict, becoming painfully hollow. Tears started brimming at the edges of your vision and you finally allowed your lips to part, letting a bated breath stumble out of them with urgency.

“I heard you earlier.”

◦◦◦

“I’m not waking her up,” Rick scowled in one curt sentence, already feeling a bit on edge and therefore not wanting to dwell on the matter.

Peacemaker’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper at Rick’s unwavering tone. He usually dealt easily with negotiation and compromises, he worked well under authority and was a suitable soldier because of it, but at the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to be patient – maybe because of how thick with tension the atmosphere had become because of you.

“We can feel her,” he insisted again, spitting the words out in an irritated hiss.

◦◦◦

“Honey, I can feel you, tone it down,” your mother complained as she kept her eyes on the road. Either your words went completely over her head, or she refused to acknowledge them, knowing that with the amount of resentment she could feel rolling off of you in waves, there was no way a discussion could lead to a good outcome at the moment. She was already having a hard time not letting the irritation get to her in spite of the smoldering atmosphere.

“I heard you talking to aunt Matty,” you reiterated. “You said it was my fault.”

“What was?”

“Dad leaving.”

The uttered words dropped like thunder in the car, leaving the air charged with electricity.

“I didn’t say that,” she rebutted with a bit of an acerbic tone. The tension was starting to get to her, slowly but steadily eating away at her mind in spite of her resolve. She could feel the resentment seeping into her like a foreign body infiltrating her immune system, but paradoxically, the angrier she got, the less willing she was to fight it off. “Don’t twist my words, you know I hate when you do that.”

◦◦◦

“I didn’t say she wasn’t allowed to sleep,” Peacemaker clarified, starting to sound a bit agitated as the tensed atmosphere got more and more on his nerves. “I’m simply saying she shouldn’t until we are.”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

◦◦◦

“You said I was hurting him.”

“I said he was often on the wrong end of your temper. Listen, it’s—”

“Back off!”

◦◦◦

“Back off,” Rick sternly admonished him as soon as Peacemaker made a step towards the front of the bus, protectively wrapping an arm around your sleeping form. “She needs to rest. She got shot acting as a distraction so your team could make a smooth entrance, remember?” he reminded the man scornfully.

Peacemaker’s face remained calm in spite of the irritation coloring his eyes. His gaze briefly flickered from you to Flag, hesitating.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

◦◦◦

“You know how you made him feel,” your mother uttered, efficiently putting an end to the exchange.

You remembered the times during which you were moody, when you came back home after having spent the entire day feeling everyone’s emotions around you, when your father did as much as try to talk to you about it, thus instantly setting you off. He was always the spark that ignited you. Whether he was inquiring about your day, or commenting on your behavior, or even just standing a bit too close to you… He’d end up angry, hurt, aggressive – whatever you were feeling at the moment, he’d always end up feeling it too.

Your mother was just wise enough to stay away.

But you also remembered the shouts in the kitchen, the jabs, the constant bickering between them. You remembered listening to it from the stairs and then being blamed for their bad tempers. You’d be blamed for the anger, the aggressiveness, the slaps that so often echoed through the house.

She was wise enough to stay away, and yet be close enough when she’d need an excuse.

“It wasn’t just me,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“I never said it was.”

“It was you,” you spat out as you whipped your head towards her. “You made him miserable.”

Your eyes were completely focused on her face, her pursed lips and closed-off features, and never once did you notice the way her foot slowly started pressing further onto the accelerator.

◦◦◦

You woke up with a start and instantly casted a frantic gaze around you, expecting the usual blaring horns and shouts that followed this exchange. You were surprised to find yourself in a safe environment, all wrapped up in an unexpected warm, comforting atmosphere. Usually, the second you woke up, your instincts picked up on the foul aura of anguish you had unconsciously secreted into the air, and yet, here, you could feel nothing but utter peacefulness.

One of your eyebrows formed an elegant arch as you lowered your gaze to glimpse at the warm weight wrapped around you, only for your eyes to land on a familiar calloused hand hanging from your shoulder and almost grazing your cheek. You felt a faint smile tenderly pulling at the corners of your lips before even turning your head to confirm the identity of the owner of the arm wrapped around your shoulders, and when you turned your head to direct your gaze towards Flag’s sleeping face, you simply found yourself incapable to fight it off anymore.

Then, with a fond smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you snugly nestled you head back into his side and shut your eyes, this time knowing for a fact that you wouldn’t risk infuse the atmosphere with anything else than a blissful quietude.

◦◦◦

It was chaos. Utter chaos.

Your car was long abandoned a few feet away from you, fuming after having hit another vehicle in the middle of an intersection. The driver who had started fighting with you was now in a fully blown-out fist fight with another man who had merely tried to step in for you, and the more people got out of their cars to understand what was going on, the more people got trapped under your influence and started fighting, some going as far as purposefully ramming their vehicle into another’s.

Your voice was hoarse from shouting at the driver who had first attacked you and you were now trembling with anger as you watched an entire riot unfold before your very eyes, unconsciously fueling it with intense waves of rage that'd hit any innocent that'd happen to walk a bit to close to the scene.

Someone gripped your shoulder and you tried to jerk away from the touch, whirling your head towards the person with your teeth bared, ready to attack whoever was trying to get your attention.

“Honey, focus on me, alright? Focus on me.”

The voice was rough, the tone frenzied, and yet when the hands grasped your shoulders, it was with an unexpected gentleness. The fingers were quivering with restraint, barely managing not to dig into your skin in an attempt to snap you out of it.

This staggering tenderness startled you so much that it managed to take you out of your trance for a fleeting moment, allowing reason to take over as you fought back the instinctive urge to shove the hands away. With frantic, brimming eyes, you diverted your gaze towards your mother, desperate for a comforting point of focus to latch onto like a lifeline.

A sob threatened to crawl up your throat as soon as you met her eyes. There, in the midst of all the hardly concealed anger – a glint of affection, a vacillating spike of tenderness battling to emerge from under all that vibrating rage your mind was forcefully pushing into her. With a choked-up breath of relief, you instinctively stepped forward, latching onto that abiding twinkle of kindness in spite of all that surrounding violence like a lifeline.

Then, when there was an anticipated screeching of tires coming from your side, a glimpse of grey metal flashing out of the corner of your eye, and an oh-so-familiar harrowing feeling of dread seizing your insides, you kept your eyes unwaveringly locked into your mother’s, resolutely shutting out everything else around you. You bored your gaze into hers and let your mind soak in her warmth.

The car never came, the shouts quietened down, your surroundings slowed down until coming to a complete halt, time stalled and your dream mercifully stepped away from your memories to spare you.

You stood there for ages lost into your mother’s loving gaze, until – having strayed too far from reality – your subconscious lost all senses of what was and wasn’t at the time and let the scene morph into whatever your mind desired. Then, when the voice spoke up again, it wasn’t your mother standing before you anymore, but a person you now trusted more than you ever thought you would.

“Don’t be scared of me.”

-----

“We need to help these people.”

The words went completely over your head as you despairingly gaped at the glass in front of you, feeling cold to your bones.

You had gotten a bad feeling as soon as the elevator doors had cracked open.

There hadn’t even been time to make a step forward before you had gotten hit by the foul, repugnant thickness sullying the air with a strength that almost had you rearing your head back a bit. For a dizzying second, the vile and nauseating reek had left you standing there, blearily blinking as your senses had desperately struggled to accommodate to the repellent atmosphere. Yet, in spite of the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes just from the sheer despondency emanating from the place, you had been far from imagining the atrocity, the barbarism of the experiments that were taking place down here.

Despite your reluctance, you had been forced to follow the others as they had stalked out of the elevator, engaging into the dark and humid place with feeble, hesitant steps. As you had all crossed the small entrance leading to the laboratory, you had needed to fight your instincts that they had urgently pleaded you to simply whirl around and run back into the elevator.

Every breath you had taken weighed heavily on your tongue, the pungency sticking to the walls of your throat and poisoning your lungs. Every other second you had spent down there had simply felt like another year taken off your life, the wretched atmosphere slowly eating away at your brain like acid.

In spite of all of that, it had taken some time for the horror to truly dawn on you.

The despair had crept into your heart with every step you had made into the cellar, and then, when you had gotten to the center of it, you had felt for the very first time of your life an intense claustrophobia swarming your heart. Surrounded by a sea of decaying bodies all bound together by the same searing, devastating agony, the hostile basement had quickly gone from a gruesome laboratory to a deadly trap slowly closing in on you.

With nothing but wandering bodies all around you, you felt at the bottom of a pit of wretchedness, your head swelling with an intense, overwhelming pain. It was as though you were entrapped in the center of a microwave which was channeling thousands of screams directly towards your brain instead of radiations, however one of them was significantly stronger than the others and seemed to come from the wide glass wall right in front of you.

“Impossible, dear. They’re corpses below those stars.”

In spite of the searing agony flaring through your chest, your heartbeat seemed to slow down and settle onto a numbing, soporific pace as you unconsciously started stepping towards the wide glass, as though bewitched by the heart-wrenching wail you felt coming from whatever was hiding in that liquid.

With trembling, tentative fingers, you lifted your hand and slowly pressed your palm against the freezing glass, yearning to soothe the poor sufferer from their wrenching agony. The pain only seemed to intensify at the touch, the feeling of desolation gripping your insides as your ears started ringing, completely isolating you from the others. There was nothing else in that room but you and a desolated martyr screaming with thousand of voices right into your mind.

You watched with mournful, brimming eyes as the dark figure behind the glass started stirring until a single, colossal eye revealed itself in front of you, appearing emotionless to any common spectator and yet emitting an amount of woe that would’ve had you on your knees had you not gotten so used to sensing people’s emotions.

“Outburst?”

Rick’s voice rose up right behind you but still didn’t startle you, your eyes riveted onto the creature before you with rapt focus.

“It’s in pain,” you croaked out, the faint words scraping your dry throat like some sandpaper grating your vocal cords. “It’s in so much pain.” You shifted your fingers a bit, as if trying to press your hand closer to the glass, get closer to that strange creature, completely blind to the danger it represented. The tentacles, bumps and single eye did not matter – all you could see was the utter suffering it was in.

“Well,” the Thinker unabashedly butted in, “if I’m not mistaken regarding the purpose of your self-righteous egomaniacal mission – not for much longer.”

His words dawned on you with a dry clarity and had you shifting away from the glass in one brisk motion to whirl your head towards Rick. “We can’t kill it,” you asserted with an adamant, steadfast tone that did not match the slight waver in your voice.

“We have orders.”

Rick’s steadfast voice was way more convincing than yours, and what would’ve usually been a mere reminder of his status as colonel felt like a frustrating hindrance that only heightened the desperation swarming your heart and made you let go of the glass to tighten your fists as you turned around to fully face him.

“No, we can’t, we have to help it, it’s—”

“It’s dangerous,” Rick cut you off, his distrust-colored eyes briefly flickering towards the glass wall.

“It’s suffering!”

Your distressed screech echoed through the cellar, your plea painfully reverberating on the walls and splattering the frantic desperation dripping from your tone all around the basement.

For a fleeting moment, Flag remained speechless, as if hit with full force by the intensity of your despair. During that fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation flashing in his eyes, the way he seemed to ponder over the situation for even just a second, wondering what to do and which way to choose. Then, his gaze flickered to the side, briefly meeting Peacemaker’s, and you were able to pinpoint the exact moment he put his guards up again, welding back on his old mask of professionalism to tightly shut out any emotion you could try to induce in him.

There was a subtle shift in his expression, so subtle you might not even have noticed had you not been so desperately seeking any trace of support on his features. Instead of showing the understanding you were so badly hoping for, the traits of his face hardened, the glint in his eyes dimmed, and then you weren’t standing before Rick anymore, you were facing the colonel, towering over you with his back straight and his orders engraved in his mind.

You were acutely aware of the fact that the mission outweighed you; you had just hoped Rick would hold enough respect towards you to give your words the slightest bit of consideration. Apparently, this respect only allowed you one minute of his time before he completely shut you out.

With a sharp, regretful sigh, he took a step towards you and grabbed your arm with a gentle reluctance that contrasted with the harshness of his tone as he said that you needed to go with the other team.

You tried to protest but his strides were long and hasty, and before you even knew it, he was punching the first-floor button of the elevator as you stood inside of it, stunned.

Just as the doors started closing before you, you feebly parted your lips to utter one last plead; your pained, wavering voice coming out laced with betrayal. “You said I could trust you.”

When he had seemed ready to turn away as soon as the doors started closing between you, Rick’s attention seemed to be piqued by your words as he shifted his gaze back onto you, lingering in front of the elevator for just a second more.

The distress coloring your eyes melted into a sullen resignation as soon as your gaze bored into his, your chest constricting with dejection. There, under the thick coat of seriousness, in the midst of all the restrained belligerence this place inspired him, no glint of affection was to be found, no spike of tenderness desperately trying to emerge from the vibrating anger – nothing but cold, glaring callousness.

Not Rick.

Colonel.

-----

“Where’s Flag?”

Bloodsport turned his gaze towards you, and you instantly recognized the apologetic look in his eyes.

As he grimly shook his head, you finally experienced it firsthand – the agony of a thousand people.

-----

“Apparently Waller sent something to his hospital room. People are joking and saying she sent flowers, but if you want my opinion the old hag probably sent him a reminder that his contract doesn’t cover paid sick leaves.”

The voice, just like the steps accompanying it, echoed through the corridor and kept getting closer to your cell, undoubtedly coming from yet another guard who’d attempt to get a word or a reaction out of you – anything that’d stop them from having to book in an appointment with the jail therapist.

You had seen many of them pass by while you had spent days in a temporary cell during your recovery but hadn’t thought they’d keep on sending them after having transferred back in your old cell this morning.

The landscape change didn’t make any difference for you, as you simply kept on staring at the wall for hours on end with the most irksome gloomy look clouding your features.

You couldn’t think about anything else than Rick.

You didn’t think you had even truly processed it yet. It had happened too fast.

Within the span of a few days, the colonel had somehow gained your trust, slowly leading you to warm up to him by showing you an affection you hadn’t experienced in years. It felt like he had turned your world upside down, made everything brighter with the prospect of saving lives alongside a superior who truly valued you, and then you had made the mistake of letting him out of your sight, forced to walk away from that dreadful laboratory for just a few minutes, and he had died there, the one person on this earth who you could genuinely trust now buried under the rumbles in that bottomless pit of agony.

You had mulled over it what felt like a thousand times already and you just could not figure out how to simply go on with your life. Not when your one chance at a brighter future had been squandered so violently as soon as you had turned your back to it.

Somehow, it felt like your fault.

You had been careless, unfocused. You had forcefully dragged Rick’s attention away from the mission at hand only because you were too weak to handle the downsides of your ability, your eyes pathetically overflowing with tears of empathy as the rest of your team simply tried to achieve the mission. You had distracted Rick as that one had been forced to take you to the elevator like a child, had unconsciously helped Peacemaker steal a secret file and forced Cleo to try and stop him on her own before Flag could come to her aid.

The file had been retrieved, but only after Bloodsport had stopped Peacemaker from coldly eliminating Cleo. Only after Rick’s body had already been left laying soundly in the laboratory.

They had fought with all their might for that file, for those values you had accused Flag of lacking merely days ago, and you hadn’t even been there.

It had been crushing to find out that the trust you held towards him had been misplaced, but it was nothing in comparison to discovering he shouldn’t have trusted you either.

You forcefully swallowed back the lump in your throat when you heard the steps finally come to a halt right by your cell and had a hard time concealing the startled look on your face when a very familiar voice rose up.

“Well well well, from what I’ve heard little princess doesn’t want to eat anymore?”

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end at the falsely dulcet tone dripping with a syrupy looking but dangerously abrasive poison. You had to keep yourself from gritting your teeth as your gaze caught up on Griggs’ silhouette standing before your cell from the corner of your eye.

“You’re not even gonna make an effort for me?” he teased you as his lips spread into a sneering smile that made him look more moronic than sadistic due to the absolute lack of sagacity behind his eyes.

You kept your mouth tightly shut and your eyes riveted to the wall across from you, trying to muster the blankest expression you could not to let him affect you but feeling a peeved expression weighing down on your features nonetheless.

“Aww, guys it looks like we’re gonna have to use the feeding tubes,” Griggs ironically groaned, turning towards his colleagues with a facetious glint in his eyes. One of them instantly stepped up to open the door to your cell, not even needing to think twice about the threat just emitted. “You know how much I hate doing that,” he then kept on jeering, much to the amusement of the other guards.

You waited with anticipation as he stepped into the cell, feeling your entire body buzzing with an overpowering apprehension, not having a clue of what you could do but knowing for a fact that with all the adrenaline slowly being spread into your system, there was no way you’d let Griggs go back to his old mistreatment.

His filthy fingers barely grazed your skin, and, as though electrified, you jumped to your feet, putting some distance between you and him. You kept your eyes determinedly fixated in front of you but could see from the corner of your eye how stunned he was by your abrupt reaction. He had gotten to the unresponsive side of you that had emerged after only a few months here, the poor figure staying down on the ground and no longer batting an eyelash at his constant abuse. His face remained dazed for a fleeting moment before the ghost of a smirk reappeared on his features.

After all, he had broken you once, it’d be no bother to do it a second time.

“What, you go on one mission with Task Force X and then you don’t like me anymore?”

He reached out a hand again, much more aggressively this time, and you jolted away, instinctively bringing a hand up without even knowing if you were willing to take the risk of hitting him.

“Step away from her, Griggs.”

The stone cold words loudly rang through the cell and heavily fell between you both, instantly followed by a deafening silence as Griggs’ hand hovered in the air for a fleeting moment, just inches away from the skin of your arm.

Then, for a dizzying, fleeting moment, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the cell.

Chill shivers of relief racked your spine before your brain even had time to process the voice, and then, when the familiarity of it finally sank in, you felt as though some freezing water had been dumped over you, leaving you soaked and shivering in the middle of your cell – only this time Griggs wasn't the cause of it.

You whirled your head towards the entrance of your cell with a vertiginous speed and had to bite back a choked-up noise from stumbling out of your lips when your gaze landed upon the owner of the voice glowering at Griggs with a murderous look in his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be back yet,” Griggs pointed out sheepishly, letting his arm limply drop to his side now that his focus had been completely taken off of you.

“I was feeling better,” Rick informed him with a tight-lipped smile which then briskly dropped from his features. “Now stand down,” he repeated himself, his voice steadfast and as neutral as he could muster it. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you. I’ve seen what you did to her, and I’d love to show you what it feels like to be on the wrong side of the blade.”

The threat made the cell go utterly silent and for just a second, the sweetest second ever, all traces of amusement vanished from Griggs’ suddenly pale face. He looked started, nervous, oh so pathetic, and then when he finally regained his composure enough to quickly muster up the most serious look he could to paint on his pallid features, he had already lost all respect from every occupant of the room.

“You’d risk your job for a bitch who told you to eat shit five minutes into your mission?”

There was an imperceptible twitch on Rick’s features at the reminder. He had to briskly fight off a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, but you could still discern the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes and had to swallow back a choked-up laugh – your heart swarming with a bunch of overwhelming emotions you couldn’t even identify at the moment.

His eyes briefly flickered to you. “Apparently,” he conceded with the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, before he cast his gaze back on Griggs and recovered a cold, severe expression. “And, trust me, given how liked you are around here, I don’t think I’d risk more than a paid leave even if I attempted to murder you.”

Yet another sullen silence fell over the cell like a heavy fog, and this time, Griggs made the wise decision of not shattering it, containing his anger within a single huff before stalking out of the cell with heavy steps that made him akin to a stomping child. His colleagues briefly glanced at Rick, not quite knowing what to do, before meeting his eyes and promptly deciding to follow Griggs’ decision.

“You’re alive,” you breathlessly uttered as soon as you were both left alone.

“A bit roughed up, but yes, alive,” he winced back, turning his gaze towards you.

You knew he couldn’t feel the blissful exultation swarming your heart now that your ability was smothered by the collar secured around your neck, but you hoped he could see it in your eyes and in the way you just couldn’t seem to blink those relieved tears away.

Rick took a few steps towards you and let out a bated breath, as if he was finally allowed to exhale, as if he hadn’t been able to feel comfortable until standing near you again – and you then knew for a fact that if he couldn’t see the exultation in your heart, he at least felt it as well.

Without another word, he then tentatively brought a hand up before letting it hover uncertainly in the air. He seemed hesitant as if he wasn’t sure how to act anymore now that his mask of professionalism was gone, and you couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle. This was enough for a single droplet to finally fall from your brimming eyes, and the way Rick’s gaze seemed to soften even more at the sight of it almost led you to shedding a few more.

With utter cautiousness, he brought his hand to your face to brush the stray tear away and then left it there, his warm palm cradling your cheek.

“Looks like I’ve won again,” he said in a breath, the words merely stumbling out of his lips as if he were afraid to break that frail, tender moment of vulnerability between the two of you. His thumb gently stroked your cheek again and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your gaze never once leaving his. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You had once said that the only way for Rick to ever get close to you was for you to give out your last breath, and yet, ever since that very vow you had felt yourself ever-so-slowly opening up to him, as though there was something in the air and it was killing you softly.

Now that the sweet, sweet poison had filled up your lungs – all wrapped up in his arms and boring your gaze into his with a wide-eyed fascination – you chose to completely let go of that vow, braving the risk to perish and merely uttering back two candid, gentle words.

“Pretty please.”

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

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Second request, the boys are out hunting and see a odd young woman stumbling along the beach. They watch as she starts talking to this boy, soon, his eyes get glossy and he follows her as they disappear beneath the water, this pattern repeats for a week. Finally, they decide to go and properly get to know her... this girl from the water turns out to be more than they bargained for.

Bait and Catch (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Mermaid Reader)

Warnings: blood/gore/implied violence, near death experiences, pining over someone you definitely shouldn't pine over

Word Count: 1.8k

When the boys saw what was happening on their beach, they didn't know what to do. They hung in the air like clothes left up to dry, watching the scene play out in front of them. They'd been hunting, hunting the exact boy that you had approached. They figured he'd lead them towards some beach party, given his type, but when he stopped to help you as you stumbled along the beach they paused. Waited.

The wind whistled in their ears and the waves crashed below them. They couldn't make out any of the words that were spoken, but they saw as stillness went up the boys spine. Like someone had strapped a ruler to his back.

They watched as you lead him to the water, and they couldn't see what happened when both of you disappeared under it's depths. The only thing they could see was the red bubbling to the surface.

Now, this was an issue. They watched you for a week, and every night it was the same. They'd passed ideas back and forth. Paul suggested,

"Ghost, maybe?" But David doubted it. You could be. You only came out at certain times and you certainly lead people to their dooms. Yet, none of them had ever heard of a ghost being tied to a beach. You seemed odd, supernatural, but solid. Not quite spectral, even if they thought you had a sort of glow or glimmer to you. It had been a few days before any of them dared to utter the word.

"Mermaid." Dwayne finally said as they watched you guide another helpless victim towards the water. It wasn't a question, and none of the boys tried to argue with him. Not even David.

Mermaids were a problem, even for vampires. They didn't understand the concept of territory, and not even a vampire was immune to their glamor. To their song. And they didn't understand the concept of cleaning up after themselves either.

David and the others had to pick up what they could when it washed on the beach, but it was difficult when they didn't know where you lurked beneath. When he saw news of a hand being found on the shore, David knew this wasn't an issue they could skirt around any longer. You were sloppy, and the boys had managed a perfect balance in their little town. They killed enough to keep the statistic high enough that the public wouldn't be surprised when someone went missing, but they never left anything for them to find. The point was missing, not dead. And bodies meant dead. Dead drew hunters.

David had thrown the newspaper into the trash, and flicked his cigarette in there along with it. They needed to solve this problem, and they needed to do it tonight.

They knew when you hunted, and they knew where. And, just like always, Paul would be their bait. If he was nervous, he didn't show it. In fact, he spent most of the time before asking if his hair looked alright, before Marko finally hit him and told him,

"Shut up, man. This is serious." He said, but Paul scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I am being serious. Mermaids are supposed to be total babes, man. And I wanna see if she's friendly." The way the wolfish grin spread over his face, the boys knew exactly what he intended by that. Dwayne rolled his eyes and Marko gave him another punch in the shoulder, but David only nodded his head towards the beach. It was time.

The boys had escaped back up towards the skies, hiding in the dark cover of the sky and watching the platinum blonde as he attempted to look natural as he walked across the dunes. Whether his performance was convincing or not, you climbed out of the salty sea and approached. You took the bait.

The boys watched as he chatted you up in his usual fashion. The pair of you were walking along the beach, and Dwayne frowned at how close he was letting you take him towards the water. The pair of you were only less than a foot away from where the tide touched. David sunk down closer to see if he could eavesdrop on your conversation, wondering where Paul had taken this. He was just out of hearing range when you sung three notes. That was all it took, and they watched as the blonde straightened. How his lazy, slumped shoulders were gone in a second, how the smile slipped off his face. How his eyes seemed even more hazed than usual. In that second, the boys fell out of the sky like puppets who had their strings cut.

You were quick, just like usual, and the boys watched as Paul started to take off his shoes. He was going to get in the water, and Marko and David grabbed him just before he could get the first shoe off. To their surprise, he thrashed the second their hands tried to stop him.

***

You'd gasped, surprised by the sight, and, out of instinct, you shrank back into the water. You were up to your knees, watching carefully as the boys fought to keep the blonde away from certain doom. You watched as the boys faces changed and distorted, how the boy you'd planned on eatings face did the same.

Sharp lines, yellow eyes, large fangs. Vampires. You had half a mind to dive under the second you put it together, but none of them lunged towards you. If anything, they seemed preoccupied with their friend. The farthest extent they'd gone to threatening you was the hiss the bleach blonde sent towards you, but he was quick to try to brace the blondes shoulders and hold him back. You weren't surprised by his persistence, and you had to dodge his shoe when he attempted to kick one of the boys. The smallest of the boys exclaimed,

"Jesus, Paul!" And Paul, the one you'd planned on eating, didn't intend on calming or to go down quietly.

"Let me- Let me go! She needs me! I need to be with her! I need to- I want to go-" He yelled, and one of his friends attempted to cover his mouth. In an instant, the smell of blood filled the air and the brunette retreated as he clutched his hand.

"Fuck! You-" But he cut himself off, shaking his hand as it healed right in front of you. Paul shook the smallest of the blondes off him, but the platinum grabbed him before he could slip past. He held him from behind, holding his arms behind him as the blonde toed the edge of the water. The others launched forward, helping the bleached blonde drag him away from the waters edge.

"Paul, calm down!" The blonde shouted, and even you could hear the suggestion behind it. But it was no use. The only one that could stop a mermaids call was the mermaid in question, and you saw as ocean blue eyes flicked to you. He seemed to know this as well, and, while it seemed to pain him, he didn't hesitate to ask, "Help us!" And you let the struggle go on for another moment as you thought about it. You looked at the four of them, weighing your options. You could sing again and kill them all. Or you could let him go, and let them do whatever they obviously planned on doing that night. But, as you looked at each of their earnest faces, your eyes fell on the blonde you'd hypnotized. He had tears in his eyes now, and his voice was weak as he begged.

"Let me go, let me go, let me go," It was an insistent mantra, and you didn't know who he was saying it to anymore. He was twisting in their hold, but their grip looked painful. Even for a creature of the night. For the first time in a long time, you felt your heart ache. You felt a bead of sympathy. And, it only took a small hum for the spell to be broken.

You watched as the boys fell back into a pile on the sand from the sudden give of their fellow vampire, and, before they could regroup, you dove into the water.

***

The boys laid in the sand, completely shell shocked. All of Paul and part of Marko had fallen onto David, with one of Paul's legs sprawled on the blonde. They all sat for a moment, processing what had happened and their own stupidity before David was pushing the lanky, blonde vampire off of him.

"Get the fuck off of me." He snapped, and Paul still seemed dazed as he was pushed into Marko instead. Marko didn't seem to care, and simply panted as he laid flat against the sand. David pushed himself up to stand, wiping the sand off of him as his eyes searched the murky, dark waters for any of sign of you. But you were gone. As if you'd never been there at all. Dwayne pushed himself up onto one arm, before leaning across to deliver a heavy punch to Paul's shoulder. That seemed to fully snap him out of it, and he whined an,

"Ow," As he rubbed his shoulder. "What the fuck, man?" He asked, and Dwayne sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees as he said,

"That's for nearly getting yourself killed. And for biting me. Next time, think with your head. Not your dick." He said, shaking his own head as he looked away and examined where the blonde had bit him. The wound was gone, but the pain was fresh in his mind. He held his own hand, pressing where the bite had been.

"Dumbass." Marko said as he reached up to ruffle the taller blondes hair. Paul shifted, letting the back of his head rest on his chest. Marko didn't say a word after that. He was just relieved that they'd gotten him in time, and he was almost impressed with how much of a fight he'd put up.

"She's gone. We should head back in case she changes her mind." David said, but none of the boys had moved by the time he turned around. They were still catching their breath, even if they didn't need to. Finally, after a moment, Paul tapped his fingers against his chest and asked,

"...you think she liked me?" And the boys didn't know if it was the lingering effects of her song, or if Paul was just a dumbass with a death wish. Maybe both. Either way, David didn't grace him with a response, and briefly thought that the wrong person had caught the wrong thing.

As he looked back out at the ocean, he tried to convince himself that replaying the look he'd seen on her face over and over didn't mean anything.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #mermaid reader

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firstfrostfall · 2 years

Text

A Cold Lament - Chapter Seven

THE FIRST DAY OF WINTER, 1919

Tommy was playing cards with his brothers, drinking beer, and listening to their laughter. The Garrison was busy that evening, busier than usual for a Friday. He figured that it was due to the coming holidays, and the sense of ease that hung heavy in the air around that time of year.

The sense of ease that he was, of course, immune to.

Anna and Harry alternated between serving them through the private window to the snug, and he tried not to look at her when he heard her voice, instead opting for cool indifference. He hadn’t spoken to her since they last saw the horse. The horse which did not have a name.

His mind was elsewhere. The crate of guns were still in Charlie Strong’s yard, and his uncle had, quite adamantly, refused to move them during the snowy season.

Too much ice in the canals, his uncle said. It’ll get my boat stuck, and that will do us no good. Springtime, Thomas. We’ll move them come spring.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his uncle was right. Winter was here, and that would surely cause delays with shipments all across the globe, not just smuggled goods in Small Heath. At the very least, no one, as far as he knew, had come looking for the guns yet. In time, though. In time.

He needed a plan in place for the guns by the first thaw.

“Tom,” Arthur’s rasping voice tore him from his thoughts. “It’s your play.”

“Ah,” Tommy glanced at his cards. “So it is.”

“Where has your mind been?” John gave him a lopsided grin.

“I’d reckon that I could name a few places,” Arthur tilted his head toward the bar, which incited a hearty cackle from John.

“My mind hasn’t been anywhere else but here,” Tommy fanned his cards out on the table, revealing a winning hand. “Pay up.”

Both brothers groaned in unison and shoved the pile of their collective wagers to him.

“Another game,” Arthur bellowed, slamming an open palm onto the table. “I’m not leaving this fuckin’ place till I win.”

“It looks like you’re never fuckin’ leaving then.” John spat his toothpick onto the floor.

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Tommy shook his head and shuffled the cards. He dealt each one of them a hand and took a measured sip of his pint before plotting a strategy for the next round.

As John was about to announce his first move, there was a knock on the main door to the snug.

“Doors unlocked,” Arthur shouted while his eyes were glued to the cards in his hand.

The door slowly creaked open, and Anna poked her head through with a sheepish smile.

“I apologize for interrupting your game,” She motioned to the bucket filled with beer on the table. “Is now a bad time? I figured this pail would have gone warm by now.”

John waved a hand at her, and she made quick work of shuffling in and out of the room to replace their old beer for a fresh one.

Tommy watched her work carefully. Her hair was neatly curled and parted to the side, like always, save for the wild braid he caught a glimpse of when she worked on that fateful game day. From head to toe she was dressed in dark blue, the moody color brightening the auburn of her hair. The apron tied around her waist was crisp and clean, without a single stain in sight. He felt his lips almost twist into a wry smirk.

When she reached across the table for his glass, she caught him staring. She smiled for a breath, seemingly almost frozen in place, and then kept her head down as she finished topping off his drink.

Perhaps he looked at her for a few moments too long, because as soon as the door closed, his brothers started laughing.

“Is that where your mind’s been?”

“I knew it,” Arthur grinned and wagged a finger at him. “Charlie Strong says he saw you leaving his yard with a little red bird a few days ago. Was it her?”

“Could’ve been anyone,” Tommy tilted his head from side to side. “If either of you can beat me in a game tonight, I’ll consider telling you.”

John clapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, there’s no shame in it, Tom,” Arthur said as he took a heavy swig from his pint. “She’s good-looking, yeah? When’s the last time you saw a girl that wasn’t doing it for the money?”

Tommy clenched his jaw at his brother’s crass comment. It was meant in jest, surely, but it still struck a nerve. She, Anna, wasn’t special, by any means. He hardly knew a thing about her, she was just another barmaid, and barmaids grew like weeds around the city. A muscle in his jaw feathered from tension.

He hardly knew a thing about her.

He placed a card face down on the table. “Your turn, Arthur.”

They played cards and drank until well after midnight, and much to each of his brother’s dismay, Tommy had the most wins of the evening.

The pub was empty when he left the snug, save for Anna who was wiping down the bar. He spoke before she even noticed he was there.

“Are you almost finished? I’ll walk you home.”

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years

Text

Hanahaki disease - read on ao3

Tagging: @lokitonypeter @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu

*-*

Peter's known for a long time that he was in love with Tony. Since he was seven, and Ironman saved his life. Since he came home to Tony Stark on his couch, talking with his aunt.

Since the trip to Germany, and everything else leading up to now. The more time he spent with the older man, the more in love with him he became.

Peter never really thought he'd be the one to get sick. He thought he'd been immune. He's had crushes before, been in unrequited love before, and he never got sick.

But with Tony, it came on so suddenly. One day he was fine, and then the next, blue petals were in his sink after a coughing fit.

He'd been so shocked he'd stumbled back and almost hit his head on the bathroom door.

That was six months ago, and its not gotten better. He's been lucky enough to hide it from everyone.

With May's long hours at the hospital and his school's wacky scheduling, and the Avengers keeping Peter on the outskirts, its easy to hide the blue flowers.

He's read stories about people with the disease getting better on their own, or even learning to live with it for the rest of their lives.

He's also read about it killing people.

But he can't tell Tony how he feels. He just can't. Tony thinks of Peter as a kid. Plus, while the age difference doesn't bother Peter at all, it might bother Tony.

The man was old enough to be his dad anyway. So Peter decided to hide the flower petals. For as long as he could.

"Hey, Pete, you getting the popcorn or what?" Clint calls from the living room. Peter coughs again, hunched over the trashcan beside the kitchen island.

"Yeah!" He shouts, coughing again. He reaches into his mouth, picking the petals off his tongue before straightening. He glances down at the trash, covered in wet, wilty petals and feels his stomach roll.

He quickly grabs a bunch of paper towel, throwing them into the trash to cover them, then pushing it all down as far as it'd go.

After a second, he grabs the two bowls of popcorn and makes his way back into the living room.

"Sorry, I had to melt the butter," he excused, handing one bowl off to Clint -who would be sharing with Nat, Bruce and Steve.

Peter handed the other bowl off to Sam, who was in reach of Tony, Thor, Bucky and Peter.

"What are we watching again?" Peter asked, clearing his throat. It was always worse when Peter was around Tony.

"Halloween," Sam said, smirking over at Peter.

"Its August," Peter exclaims.

"Yeah, and we were going to watch A Walk To Remember but Tony doesn't do chick flicks, and the grandparents haven't seen it yet."

"Hey, Tony hasnt seen it either," Steve yelped, waving a hand at Tony, sitting at the corner of the couch, beside Sam.

Peter tried not to think about how close they'd be if Sam and him just switched places.

"That's because Halloween is a terrible series."

"It not!" Peter can't help interjecting. "Its right up there with Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th."

"How do you even know what those movies are?" Clint asks, laughing on the other couch.

"I watch old movies," Peter shrugged, feeling the familiar sense of self-consciousness creep into his chest, tickling at his lungs.

"Old!" Tony barked. "Kid, the 80s aren't old."

Peter forces himself to laugh and shrug and make a joke about hanging out with people twice his age, and the conversation moves on.

But it just reminds Peter that Tony would never see him as an equal because of his age. There was no way he'd ever accept that Peter loved him. Or would love him back.

The movie plays, and Peter chews handfuls of popcorn to keep from coughing up a lung.

Bucky and Steve are on the edge of their seats, fully invested in the corny horror film when Tony starts coughing.

Everyone glances over in concern, but the man just waves his hand, mouth pressed into his elbow.

"Pop-corn-" he chokes out between coughs.

"You're supposed to chew it," Nat laughs. Peter tries not to outwardly show how worried he is when Tony's face grows red, the coughing so bad he has to get up and make his way to his bedroom down the hallway.

Everyone returns to watching the movie, but Peter can't help but wonder if Tony's okay, especially when he doesn't come back right away.

"Uh, I gotta take a leak," Peter lies, climbing to his feet.

"Thanks for sharing, little man," Sam huffed. Peter doesn't say anything else,just makes his way down the hallway.

Tony's bedroom is all the way at the end. The only people who live in the penthouse with him are Steve and Bucky, and Wanda and Vision -though they're out on a date for the night.

He passes the bathroom door, and his frown deepens when he hears Tony hacking in his bedroom.

He keeps light on his toes, reaching the bedroom door that's not all the way closed, and pushes it open just a little.

"Ton-" the sight before him cuts him off, and he ducks back a little, worried maybe the older man might've seen him.

He feels his chest tighten at the sight. Tony, leaned over with a bedside trash can between his knees, coughing up little pink flowers.

Peter's eyes widen when the man spits a glob of blood into the basket before continuing to cough.

Tears burn at Peter's eyes and he quickly backs up, rushing down the hallway and past the living room.

"Hey, where you going? Where's the fire?"

"I-I gotta go home aunt May- uh, I gotta go she wants me home," Peter shouts, snatching up his keys and phone on the way out.

He's in the elevator, and he can't stop the sobs from tightening his throat.

Tony's sick. Tony's in love with someone who doesn't love him back. Tony's in love with someone and its not Peter.

Be chokes on tears and petals all the way to the main floor, shoves the petals into his pocket and runs from the building.

He knew his love was unrequited. He knew there was no chance, but to see Tony so in love with someone else -it was like digging a knife into his heart and twisting.

He makes it to his bedroom and buries his face into his pillow, muffling his crying so May won't hear when she gets home. Hopefully she'll think hes still at the tower and won't check on him until the morning.

He cries himself to sleep, eyes gritty and heavy.

*-*

"Hey, kid, how's patrolling going?"

Peter jolts at the sudden sound of Tony's voice in his ear, momentarily forgetting he has a connection to the tower now. New upgrades.

"Uh, good," Peter huffed, swinging from building to building. "Stopped a mugging, and helped a couple people with the parking meters."

Tony chuckles over the coms. "You gotta stop showing people the coin on tape trick."

Peter can't help but smile through his mask. He clears his throat when he feels the familiar tickle at the back of his throat.

"Fuck capitalism, Mr. Stark," he says.

"You do know capitolism is kind of my job?"

"Its not," Peter countered. "I mean, it relied heavily on it in the beginning -what with the weapons and war profiteering- but you've come a long way! Sustainable energy and you're even recycling!"

Tony chuckles again, and Peter has a moment to regret his words -Tomy probably thinks he's just a dumb kid- before a coughing fit hits him out of nowhere.

It's so bad, Peter loses his momentum and drops onto a rough of a small cafe. Hes on his hands and knees, crawling from the edge of the roof as he coughs and hacks.

"Pete, you okay? What's wrong?" Comes Tony's worried voice.

Peter feels the petals coating his mouth with nowhere to go and frantically tugs on his mask. He's choking, suffocating.

He rips the mask off and heaves a mess of petals and blood onto the gravel roof.

Its never been this bad. Panic grips his chest when he coughs and wretches more than he can get a breath in. He's suffocating.

Tears burn his eyes as he struck less desperately to take a breath. Just one breath.

His head begins to spin, chest heaving and he drops from his knees to his hips, legs curled off to the side as he holds himself up with shaky arms.

There's so much blood and petals, Peter doesn't know where its all coming from.

He's too busy dying to notice the suit of armor that drops onto the roof, or that Tony's suddenly rushing towards him.

"Jesus, kid!" He breathed.

Peter lets out a sob, blood and petals continuing to fall from his mouth. His stomach hurts from the heaving, his chest from lack of oxygen.

Tony grabs him by the arms, pulling him forward until he's away from the pile of bile, blood and blue wilting flowers, nearly cradling him in his arms.

"Its alright, you're okay, you're gonna be okay," Tony repeated, rocking Peter while he continued to cough and sob.

He shakes his head, even as exhaustion and lack of air flow has his eyelids drooping, body settling further into Tony's hold.

When he wakes up again, he's in a hospital bed. Theres an iv in the back of his hand, and a tube running down his throat from his nose.

He swallows around it and has to fight back panic at the strange feeling.

There's a heart monitor on his index finger, and a few on his chest -which is bare.

Peter moves shaky hands to the blanket and pulls it up just enough to see. Someone had taken his suit off, leaving him in his red boxers.

He blushes at that. Who had taken his suit off? Damn, he hoped it wasn't Clint or Sam.

He drops the blanket just as the door opens. He looks up to see Tony step inside and he wants the bed to swallow him whole.

"Hey, kid," he greeted, shutting the door behind him and making his way towards Peter's bed. "You had us all pretty worried."

Peter drops his eyes to the itchy white hospital sheet, picking at a loose thread and not saying anything. What was there to say?

Tony sighs as he settles down into the chair beside the bed.

"Your aunt May is in the middle of a shift, but she'll be stopping by when she's got a break to check up on you."

"Okay," Peter barely manages to murmur.

"The doctors had to pump your lungs," Tony continued. "But its not a cure, Pete. They'll come back."

Tears burn at his eyes and he quickly brushes them away, sniffling as he does so.

"I know," he said. "Its alright, I'm okay."

"Peter," Tony sighs, grabbing Peter's hand. He looks up then, seeing the concern in the older man's eyes. "You're not okay, you're really sick."

"People live with it all the time," Peter brushed off.

"Who is it?"

"What?" Peter asked, heart monitor matching his fast pulse.

"Who is it? How long have you been like this?"

and it must be because Peter is tired -exhausted and drained and so sick of being sick- because fresh tears bloom and he pulls his hand from Tony's.

"Long time," is all he can say as he presses his palms into his eyes, rubbing at the tears.

"Who," Tony presses.

Fuck it, Peter thinks. He's already dying, he's already humiliated. Why not just confess?

"You," he says, pulling his hands from his face. "I've-I've been in love with you for- for years."

He can't handle the shocked look that filters through Tony's features, so he looks down at the iv in his hand, lower lip trembling.

"And I know you don't think of me that way," he continues. "I know, so its okay, I'm fine, I'll get over it or, or get the surgery or something-"

"Peter," Tony interrupts, moving from the chair to the side of the bed. He grabs both sides of Peter's jaw, forcing him to look up at Tony. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," he says on a wet breath. "Because you've always thought of me as a kid. You- I'm still just a kid to you, and thats okay, Mr. Stark, I'm-"

Tony's eyebrows furrow as Peter has to stop talking. He's getting to the point where he's babbling, not understandable.

"I don't think of you as a kid," Tony says.

"Yes, you do," Peter huffed, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down. "You do, and thats okay, I promise, I've live this long with it, I'm okay."

"Has it always been that bad?"

Peter shakes his head.

"What made it worse?"

Peter's showing his hand already, he might as well expose the card up his sleeve too.

"I saw you," he murmured. "During the movie. You're sick too. I didn't mean to, I was just- checking to make sure you were okay but-"

"Peter, sweetheart," Tony interrupted, and Peter looked up at him, realizing suddenly the man's eyes are watering a little.

"I'm sick because of you."

Peter feels like someone punched the air from his lungs, and he blinks up at Tony, eyebrows drawing close as he tries to process what Tony's said.

"What?" He asks feebly. A small smile pulls at the corner of Tony's mouth and he leans forward, kissing Peter softly on the mouth.

It's a simple kiss, but it sucks the air from Peter's lungs.

"We're really bad at communicating, kid," Tony chuckled wetly, their noses brushing. Peter can't help but sniffle a laugh as well, his hands moving to grip the front of Tony's shirt.

"M'not a kid," he mumbles, pressing his forehead against Tony's. The older's hands are still cradling his face, thumbs brushing against his wet cheeks.

"No, you're not," Tony agreed.

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #ironman #spiderman #starker #ao3 #my writing #sfsummerbingo21

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures Past pt15 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang returns to the Unclean Realm after his failed year in Gusu

The Unclean Realm, usually a noisy place, had fallen nearly entirely silent as most of the disciples and quite a few servants gathered around its gate. They were all careful to keep a respectable distance from the gate in question, in case things went wrong, but still did their best to be close enough to get a good view. Not that it was particularly necessary to be near enough to hear what was happening. Nie Mingjue had a voice that carried, and it only got worse when he was angry at his brother.

Which he currently was, of course, and for good reason everyone thought. After all, Nie Huaisang had just returned from his time studying in the Cloud Recesses, though he’d apparently done little learning there.

But it wasn’t his failure to pass his exams that had his brother so upset. It was more the fact that on the way back home, Nie Huaisang had decided to leave on his own and disappeared for well over three weeks. The other Nie disciples travelling with him had just found a note on his bed one morning announcing that he didn’t feel like going home yet. They had panicked and sent an urgent message to their sect leader, who had also panicked and launched a search for his brother, in vain.

“You could have been kidnapped!” Nie Mingjue shouted at his brother, who had arrived that morning, looking as careless as if he’d just been gone for a shichen on an errand. “You could have been attacked by bandits! Did you even have your sabre with you?”

“Of course I did!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, patting the weapon at his waist. “What was I going to do, walk around?”

“It would have been safer than flying in your case! What if you’d fallen?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. His cultivation had actually improved quite a bit while he was in the Cloud Recesses, if only because the Lans didn’t let him avoid training as much as his brother did. He was even quite close to forming a golden core, something he’d more or less given up on, and for which he hoped he’d get praised, whenever his brother calmed down enough to hear the news. So while he wasn’t the strongest of flyers, he was doing much better than he used to.

Not that Nie Mingjue was in any mood to hear that.

“I was careful, I swear,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “You’re always saying I should be more independent anyway!”

“Independent, not reckless! And who’s that?” Nie Mingjue roared, pointing at the person next to his brother.

That had been the question on everyone's mind since Nie Huaisang had arrived a little earlier, a boy much younger than himself walking at his side, but so far Nie Huaisang had avoided answering.

“Oh, that’s Xue Yang,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully announced, patting the young boy’s shoulder. “I picked him up along the way. You should test him, I really think he’s going to be a great cultivator someday! Xue Yang, that’s my brother, say hi to him?”

Xue Yang threw Nie Mingjue a very unimpressed look, and gave a half-hearted bow.

“It's an honour to meet Nie zongzhu,” he said with some uncertainty, probably wishing he hadn't been so close while Nie Mingjue shouted at his brother like that.

“Huaisang, where did you find that child?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“It’s a long story,” his brother said.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and waited for the story in question to be told. Nie Huaisang just smiled at him.

“Are you going to tell me how you found him?” Nie Mingjue insisted when nothing more came.

“No. It’s a long story, but it’s not very interesting. He’s here now, though, so that can’t be helped.”

Hearing this, Nie Mingjue turned his attention to Xue Yang, as if hoping he might get an explanation there. The young boy just gave him a wicked smile.

“He said I’d get candies if I came,” Xue Yang said. “Am I gonna get them now or what?”

Nie Mingju’s eyes snapped back to his brother.

“Huaisang, did you steal a child by offering him treats? You realise how bad that looks?”

“It’s not stealing when it’s a person,” Nie Huaisang protested, nervously twisting his fingers for a moment before hiding his hands behind his back. “And I think children count as people, not things. Right?”

“Fine. Did you kidnap a child?”

A little embarrassed, Nie Huaisang hunched his shoulder and looked down at his feet without answering. A mistake, it turned out, because Xue Yang took that as his cue to explain things.

“It’s okay, I don’t have a family anyway,” Xue Yang announced. “He asked before taking me with him, to make sure I’m an orphan. And your brother’s nice. He took me to all those nice inns along the way, and every time he made sure I had food and a bath. He said the baths were very important.”

Nie Mingjue glared at his brother who winced because that could indeed be misunderstood. Which was exactly why Xue Yang had said it like that, he suspected. But really, Xue Yang had been in a pretty bad state when Nie Huaisang had picked him up. His hair was nearly stiff with dirty, he’d recently bled all over his clothes, and he had lice, and...

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to tell the story,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. He had already come up with a sanitised version of events that he could actually share with his brother, but it still annoyed him to not be trusted more. “So, I wanted to visit Kuizhou, you see? Everyone says the landscapes around it are so gorgeous, and so melancholic, and they are by the way. I want to go back to paint and write and…”

“Focus, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, right. So, I went there,” Nie Huaisang said, playing with the hem of his sleeve. “And I was visiting and stuff, and then I see a grown man punching and kicking a kid! Just because the kid had grabbed a few things from him!”

“Yeah, it was just his purse, and there wasn’t even that much money in it,” Xue Yang helpfully provided. “Well, and a few buns from his stall, and those apples from the stall next to his, and…”

“Shut it,” Nie Huaisang hissed, before returning his attention to his brother, a bright smile on his face. “So, you always say we have to defend the weak, and nobody’s weaker than a kid, so I went to check what was going on, right? And the man told me that kid is a terrible thief that’s plaguing their town, and he’s going to beat him up until all his bones are broken and he can never bother anyone else. But it’s just a kid!”

“Yeah, I’m just a kid!”

“Shut it! Anyway, I rescued the kid, because he really was in a bad state. And then I figured, well, how can someone that’s just a kid be such a good thief, right? So I checked and he’s got good dispositions for cultivation!”

It had been a lucky realisation, because he hadn’t known for sure that Xue Yang even was meant to become a cultivator, nor a talented one for that matter. In fact, the whole thing had been unbelievably lucky. Sure Nie Huaisang had spent three whole days searching everywhere for Xue Yang, but he’d been about ready to give up when he’d finally found him in roughly the exact way he'd described.

“The local sect are a bunch of pricks who didn’t want to take him in when I asked,” Nie Huaisang explained, as if he could ever have left Xue Yang into the care of strangers who might have failed to stop him from becoming evil. “So I brought him home. He’s going to be a great disciple!”

Having listened to that story with mounting annoyance, Nie Mingjue glared at his brother.

“Huaisang, that’s…”

“You always say people deserve a chance no matter their background!”

“Oh so you do listen when I talk sometimes?”

“He’s an orphan, and he’s talented, and someone has to do something, and we can’t send him back or else he might continue stealing maybe!”

“I’ll definitely continue stealing if you send me back,” Xue Yang promised with a smirk.

Nie Huaisang glared at him. Evil or not, Xue Yang knew how to be annoying.

He also knew how to be charming, though. He’d been absolutely delightful with a bunch of people they’d met on the way to Qinghe whenever he’d thought he could get something out of it. And it had worked, too. Xue Yang had obtained a lot of sweets from a lot of people, as well as some money here and there. And that was without mentioning the stuff he’d just outright stolen, sometimes from the very people generously sharing something with him. He was a little pest, all right.

But he was smart too, smart enough to understand what an incredible opportunity he’d been given. It would have been easy for Xue Yang to run away into the night, taking with him all of Nie Huaisang’s money. He was a skilled enough thief to manage it, especially once he’d realised that Nie Huaisang wasn’t a skilled enough cultivator to pursue him. But he hadn’t, because he’d been promised a chance of becoming a cultivator if Nie Huaisang could just convince his brother.

Of course, that was a pretty big 'if'.

A year earlier, Nie Huaisang would have been certain that he could convince his brother of anything. He’d never had any reason to doubt that, not until his future self had come into his life uninvited and whispered poison to him about Nie Mingjue having a bad opinion of him. And maybe he was right, that old prick. Nie Huaisang had messed up so badly in the Cloud Recesses, failing his classes in a way most people never did. He’d shamed his sect, his clan, his brother, and now he had the galls of asking for a huge favour, as if he had any right to…

“How old are you?” Nie Mingjue asked Xue Yang, who shrugged.

“Dunno. I think I’m older than nine, maybe, ‘cause I remember that bad drought we had one year. But old Cheng says I’m probably less than twelve, ‘cause I don’t have all my teeth yet.”

To prove his point, Xue Yang clenched his jaw and bared his teeth. He was indeed missing one canine on the left, while the right one was just starting to regrow. It made for a very odd smile, and yet Xue Yang knew how to use that to look cute sometimes.

Cuteness wouldn’t work on Nie Mingjue though. Years of dealing with Nie Huaisang had made him nearly immune to it.

"What did my idiot brother tell you to convince you to come all the way here from Kuizhou?"

"He said I'd learn to be a cultivator, and people wouldn't beat me up ever again for stealing," Xue Yang recited. "And he said I'd have to learn to be good and stuff, because it's a second chance for an honest life, and I figured, well, it's better than the streets."

Nie Mingjue nodded, though he still looked severe enough that Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure yet of his victory.

"We have a certain way of doing things in my sect, and dishonesty isn't allowed. And I'll need to check if you can be taught at all. Come closer and give me your hand."

Xue Yang, impossibly cocky a moment before, suddenly hesitated and glanced at both Nie brothers before hiding his hands behind his back.

"Which hand ?"

"Either one, it makes no difference."

"It might a bit," Xue Yang grumbled before reluctantly raising both hands.

Nie Mingjue frowned when he noticed that one finger was missing, but Nie Huaisang took it to be an encouraging frown and finally relaxed. It expressed concern rather than anger, and that had to be a step in the right direction.

"That looks old," Nie Mingjue noted, grabbing Xue Yang's left hand to inspect it. "Hm. That's not neat enough to have been cut off. What happened to you?"

"Someone's cart ran over my hand on purpose," Xue Yang muttered, trying in vain to pull his hand free. "I was little. It's fine now, I swear!"

It was far from fine, actually. Xue Yang himself might not have realised it since he was used to it, but Nie Huaisang had noticed that the young boy favoured his right hand a lot more than was normal, even for a right-handed person. In another sect, that might have been a problem. But Qinghe Nie was more martial than most others, a little more reckless too, and they had their share of cultivators who'd had nasty accidents.

A missing finger in a stiff hand wasn't so bad compared to some people.

"We'll have to get you a light sabre," Nie Mingjue said, mostly to himself after a quick check of the boy’s meridians. "Something you can use one-handed, like Huaisang. And I'll ask our doctor to have a look at it. It looks painful."

"No, it's fine, I don't feel pain anymore," Xue Yang proudly announced as he pulled his hand free. "Trained myself out of it, mostly."

"You are definitely going to see Zhilan," Nie Mingjue replied, frowning harder. "Huaisang’s right, you do have potential, so we'll train you.” He turned toward their audience of disciples, and gestured for one man to walk closer. “Zonghui! Come and give that kid a tour, and a meal. When he's eaten, take him to see Zhilan, and have a bed prepared for him."

“I’m in?” Xue Yang asked, so startled that for once, he really did look his age.

He glanced at Nie Huaisang who grinned at him and nodded, then turned his eyes back to Nie Mingjue who nodded as well.

“You’re in. Go with Nie Zonghui, he’ll explain everything you need to know about being part of this sect.”

With surprising obedience that had to be a side effect of surprise, Xue Yang trotted away with Nie Mingjue’s first disciple. Nie Huaisang tried to follow, equal parts curious and worried about what might happen next if he lost sight of Xue Yang. He hadn’t taken two steps before Nie Mingjue grabbed him by the collar to stop him.

“And where are you going?”

Nie Huaisang pointed toward Xue Yang. His brother gave him a pointed look, and started dragging him in another direction, leaving him no choice but to follow or be strangled.

“I’m tired,” Nie Huaisang complained. Then, noticing that they appeared to be going toward the training grounds, he struggled against his brother’s grasp. “Wait, da-ge, I’m really tired, I mean it! We’ve had to walk so long, you know! We’ve only been able to hitch a ride on carts for some of the way, so I can’t feel my legs anymore for how much walking I’ve done lately.”

“If you’d come home directly from the Cloud Recesses, you’d have ridden in a carriage,” Nie Mingjue retorted without an ounce of pity. “Now let’s see if you’ve made any progress with your sabre, aside from using it to run away. We’re going to spar together.”

“I can’t, I’m so tired!” Nie Huaisang whined. “I’m going to die if I have to move! And you’re so much stronger than me, there’s no point in training together, the difference is too great! Da-ge, have some mercy, let me eat something first! Let me rest! And I need to change clothes too, and I really should check how my birds are, and…”

“Shut up you brat! This is your punishment for getting me so worried!” Nie Mingjue snapped, pushing his brother onto the softer soil of the training ground. “Do your warm-ups!”

“But I’m starving, da-ge!”

“That’s your own fault for running away!” Nie Mingjue replied, showing yet again he was the most cruel person in the entire world.

And yet as soon as Nie Huaisang started stretching in preparation for a friendly fight, Nie Mingjue asked a disciple to go ask the kitchens if they might send some fresh buns and a little tea that way. Aggravated as he was that his brother only cared about checking his cultivation and martial art progress, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but smile.

After everything his older self had said about Nie Mingjue really despising him, he’d been worried that his brother would indeed be furious at him for everything he’d done, from failing his classes to forcing him to take in a miscreant. But no matter how shouty and frowny he currently was, it was clear to anyone who knew him, as his brother did, that Nie Mingjue was worried-angry rather than angry-angry.

Nie Huaisang had gambled and won, thus proving to himself that he definitely knew his brother better than his older self did.

#xisang #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #xue yang #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #this was almost a much longer chapter but I figured the next visit of future nhs could be posted on its own next week

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dancingintheraindreamingonday · 3 years

Text

A little wicked - Chapter 9

Author’s note: This will probably be the last chapter of my Bucky series. What a journey. Thanks to everyone!!

Warning: Huge plot twist, that even I haven’t seen coming when I first wrote the story.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

„Do you wanna live in Delacroix?“, You ask Bucky as you set the table for dinner.

“Why are you asking?”

“I saw how much you enjoyed your time there and we’re still looking for a house. So...why not looking there?”

After you got kidnapped in your old house, Bucky refused to live there again.

“I thought you loved the city life.”

“I don’t really care anymore where we live as long as we live together.”

„I’m really lucky to be your husband.“, Bucky kisses you but stoppes as he receives a call from Sam. „There was an attack at the GRC conference. Sam needs me.“

„Go. Be safe. And kick their asses.“, you smile weakly as Bucky leaves your flat.

As soon as he left, you check your phone seeing the messages you received, warning you about the upcoming attack hours ago.

After making sure that Alex is safe and he’s taken care of you leave your apartment as well. A car is already waiting for you, taking you to the building where the conference is being held.

~*~

You’re standing in the shadow watching Sharon, Bucky and Sam talking. You know that Sam and Bucky will have each other’s back. That’s why you only observe Sharon and eventually follow her.

Batroc points a gun at Sharon demanding more money. Morgenthau points her gun at her too.

You curse under your breath as you come out of your hiding and without any warning you shot Batroc straight in the head without shaking. Sharon and Morgenthau shot each other while the later is deadly injured.

“You are a great actress, Sharon. I’m really impressed.”, you say as you put your gun away.

“Why didn’t you tell me your plan? I warned your days before the kidnapping that they will come for you. I don’t understand it.”, Sharon got shot in her stomach, breathing hard.

“I knew Hydra would come- sooner or later. They wanted Alex to experiment with. And I also knew Valentina would think you’re the Power Broker and wanted to work with you. Thats why I spoke on your answering machine. So that you could gain her trust. That James and Sam found it was a coincidence but you played along. Really good. So when they came to kidnapp me, I offered myself. And they couldn’t believe their luck. Pregnant, vice-director of Shield and the wife of the winter soldier. I knew they would take me and experiment with me with their last serum they got. The last serum because the others got stolen and I knew Zemo would kill the doctor eventually. They wasted their last serum on me without knowing I’m immune. And when they think you’re dying they tell you everything. I needed that information about Valentina. It was definitely worth it.”

You look on your watch.

“Sam will be here any minute so I better be going. You...” you look at Sharon “will stay here in the city. I have a little present for you in the next days. And you...” you look at Karli “You shouldn’t have stolen the serum from me. And you shouldn’t have fight James. Killing the other super soldier wasn’t my plan in the beginning. You’re just a means to an end.”

You walk away and leave the hall before Sam sees you.

~*~*~

Cameras and lot of people were standing and watching Sam reasoning and convincing the GRC. You pass the police officers as they prevent the crowd to come even closer. „Did you write that down first or was it off the top of your head? Spoken like the true Captain America.“, you smile as you walk to the men. „Ah. Director Barnes, good seeing you here. There’s lot to talk about after todays event.“ The man says after he shakes your right hand. „And we will.“, you lay your left hand on top of his while still shaking. „(Y/f/n), what are you doing here? Does Bucky know you’re here?“, Sam looks at you suspiciously. „SHIELD is always there where bad things happen.“, leaving the equivocation unanswered.

„Excuse me, I need to make sure that the remaining terrorist are safely escorted to jail.“, and with that you turn around but not walking to the cars where the rebels are in but to another car in the shadow. A man walks up to you with a little device in his hand that looks very similar to a remote. „Thanks, Stan. Good work. See you later.“ You say as you take the device and walk further. You knock at the car window and open it. „Do you want me to press the button or do you want to do it yourself?“, you say in perfect German. „I’ll do it on my own.“, answers the man in the car, taking the device and presses the button. The explosion is huge and lightens up the inside of the car your inside. „Good. Very good. We’re even.“, says the man. You smile knowing that James is finally off Zemo’s list. You sacrificed the flag smashers for James, but you don’t feel any remorse. You would do anything to protect your family.

~*~*~

„(Y/f/n)!“, James shouts. He’s running and looking for you in panic. „James, I’m here.“, you scream back as you run in his direction. „God, (y/f/n), what the fuck are you doing here?! It isn’t safe here for you. For you both.“ Bucky looks at you and on your stomach. „When Sam told me you were here and the car exploded, I thought… I thought…“ He can’t finish the sentence and you hug him tightly. „I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. I’m here as a representative for SHIELD.“

„Sharon’s here. I’ve heard she will stay in town.“, Bucky grunts still not forgiving her. „I know. I forgave her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trusting her, but I know the bad influence Madripoor has on people. Maybe she will change.“, you lie.

„Your kindness always amazes me.“, says Bucky as he kisses your head.

~*~*~

Three days later you open the door to your office. A small brown package is on your desk. You open it and as you realize what it is you can’t help but smile. Inside of the package was the book „The prince“ by Machiavelli. It’s the same book you sent Zemo some time ago. You open it and see Zemo’s graceful handwriting One is controlled but the other is still standing

You know immediately who Zemo is referring to. Bucky and Walker.

When you found out that HYDRA is working on the serum again, and when you stole it and then the flag smashers sole it from you, you knew it was just a question of time till Zemo will be out of jail and take a side. And you wanted him to be on yours. So you visited him and made sure that you both are on the same page- that the other super soldiers have to die but not James. You made clear that Bucky wasn’t a threat. That he’s broken trying to make amend for his killing. That he has settled and there is no need for Zemo to kill Bucky. And Zemo liked you- you were both born in Leipzig and you both had difficulties to cope with loss. Two smart minds wanting to destroy the serum.

You take the book to your bookshelf making a mental note to visit Zemo in the Raft.

Someone knocks at your door. Sharon Carter.

„They offered me full pardon.“, says Carter as she walks into your office. „I know.“ You say. „I wrote the text that the senator read aloud.“

„So, I’ll be working in my old division?“, asks Sharon. „No. Thats not happening, Sharon.“, you laugh.

„But I’ve got you a job that’s even better. You will work for SWORD. Its an extra-governmental intelligence agency. Probably you’ve heard about them. Their former leader Hayward was a pain in the ass. Like Pierce 2.0. I’ve heard Fury wants to work there and because of his relationship with Valentina, I’m not trusting him at the moment. So you will work there and keep an eye on everyone. Oh and I hope you told your assistant that the super soldiers are off the menu. But there are other things we can offer.“

„I already called her about that. But there is still one question I have. How did you become director?“

You smile wickedly. „Well, the arrogance of men never ceases to amaze me. When Sam gave the shield away it was just a question of time till they demand a new Captain America. And everyone wanted John Walker. Received three Medals of honor, good looking and a soldier who does everything what is commanded than rather what is right. I didn’t like him. James told me years ago, that you can see madness in people’s eyes and man, his eyes were full with madness. So I didn’t agree with the board but the director and vice-director both has to agree. So I made them an offer. I told them that for this voting they can outvote me if everyone on the board agrees with our director. And if Walker does his job well I will leave my position. But if he fails, I will be the new director. All they did was laugh at me. They of course outvoted me and they even planned my goodbye-party. And I just waited and waited. And with Walker being so unstable I didn’t waited for long. And now I’m here and the director is gone and most of the board members as well. Arrogance is dangerous. Never estimate your opponent.“

„So where is Walker now?“

„I’m not sure but I’m pretty certain that he’s with Valentina and they are up to no good. Valentina wants James dead and Walker wants Sam dead because Sam is the new and definitely the better Captain America.“

~*~*~

A week later, you, Bucky and Alex are sitting in the car heading to Sam’s home town. The letter from Tony is laying in your purse. The envelope is still sealed but the answer in it isn’t unknown to you. You’ve known the answer for years, never telling anyone, not even James. People would be intimated if they’d known your heritage- your dad’s and your mom’s. And you learned that being an intimating woman only makes men defensive and its hard to work with them. Men need to feel strong and useful and that’s your strength. You always know how to make men feel that way around you, even it it’s just an illusion and even now that you’re the director they don’t feel intimated and that makes them careless and easy to read.

„I never felt so much happiness than in this moment right now. It feels like a new chapter is starting.“, you grin at Bucky caressing his cheek. His five o’clock shadow tickles you and he leans against your hand.

„Falling in love with you in Bucharest seems like so long ago. It’s been so difficult, James. This is a dream come true. Having a normal life with you is all I’ve ever wanted.“

Bucky stops the car in the middle of the road. He bends over you, kissing you possessively and pressing you against your car door. „You’re my home, (y/f/n). You’re my constant, my hope, my life and my family. Being loved by you is the greatest gift.“ He kisses you again, trailing soft kisses on your neck.

You giggle freely and even though it arouses you tremendously you stop Bucky. „No sex in the car, while Alex is still here.“

Bucky grins playfully as he starts the car. „We will continue this later.“

~*~*~

Sam’s hometown celebrates the new Captain America and as Bucky arrives they also celebrates him as the white wolf.

You danced and talked and ate and forgot everything you’ve ever done for the sake of your family until you receive a text message from Stan, who is securing the surrounding. Fury’s on his way to Delacroix. Accompanied by Hill and Dave. 2 minutes.

Dave is a co-worker of you. Of course he doesn’t know anything but his betrayal angers you anyway and there will be consequences.

„Is that Fury? What is he doing here? And why does he look so angry?“, asks Bucky Sam. Bucky hands you Alex over, who was relaxing on Bucky’s shoulders and both men are walking up to him, ignoring or maybe just forgetting that it is you who holds the most power and the reason for Fury’s visit.

Everyone is underestimating you just like you’ve always wanted.

@inlovewith3 @jackiehollanderr @homesicam@dreamydreamerwriting @losers-club6 @gengen64@agentsofsheilds @crimson-darling @akkinda10 @xemine@bubblegumholland @chipilerendi @iamasimpingh0e @bbmommy0902 @madddiiee26 @teenagedreams-bucky @aya-fay @idontknowwhatthisisfam @w-wolfhxrd @useless-creature-213 @angywritesstuff @supernaturalcat7 @harrys-stan @geek-and-proud @pastel-boy-sungjae @austynparksandpizza @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals @teenagedreams-bucky @auds24 @ah-blossom @supraveng @lady-loki-ren @freakyhood96 @bbl32

#sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes feels

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writing-on-the-wahl · 3 years

Text

Writing Snippet #7

She slid silently through the compound, her black clothes blending with the shadows as she made her way to the main building. When she reached the side door, she quickly pulled the glove off her left hand and brushed her fingertips across the electronic keypad. Her eyes fluttered as millions of numbers flooded her mind. Twelve seconds later, she entered a six-digit code using her gloved right hand. The door swung open, and she stepped inside, carefully wiping away the fingerprints as she crossed the threshold.

That was easy.

She repeated the process at three more doors as she made her way up to the third floor, her heart catching each time the sound of footsteps sent her darting into open office spaces or behind potted plants.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached the correct corridor.

They do not pay me enough for this.

She counted doors as she walked: ehu, riau, silu... she paused in front of a plain wooded door with a traditional lock.

Slipping a set of lock picks from her pocket, she knelt and felt the lock with her bare fingers. Then she twisted the tools until the lock clicked open.

Entering the office, she took stock of the bookshelves along walls and the large window before stepping forward and taking a seat at the desk. She pulled off her black beanie and removed the sharpie holding her bun in place. Long blonde strands fell around her face as she pushed up her left sleeve before resting her fingers against the sleeping computer.

The flood of information was overwhelming, but she was used to it. Mentally scanning through dozens of files, she searched for the information she’d been sent to receive. She pulled the cap off the sharpie with her teeth and began scribbling on her forearm. She was nearly done when the handle of the door—which she’d foolishly left unlocked—began to turn. She ran the side of her fist against the computer screen, clumsily smudging her fingerprints as she looked around desperately for a place to hide.

She was halfway towards the heavy window curtains when a deep voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Well, well, well. This is most fortuitous.”

The lock clicked into place.

She lunged for the window, but a gloved hand caught her arm and swung her around.

“It will be much easier to learn directly from you what Supervillain is planning....”

Villain’s voice trailed off as he took in her mask and black clothing.

“You don’t work for Supervillain.”

She pried her arm free and skirted back a few steps, heart pounding. She’d never met or fought Villain before, but knew what he was, and his powers were more dangerous to her than most.

“No.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, little hero.” He narrowed his eyes, “What language is that?”

Hero hastily pulled down her sleeve to cover the writing. She had to get out of here. Now. But Villain was standing between her and the door. Like her, he was clad in all black, and it seemed like he wasn’t supposed to be here either.

“Listen,” she began to edge to the side. “your battle is with Supervillain, not me, so I’ll just be going.”

He mirrored her movement and pulled off his gloves. “I don’t think so.”

She swallowed.

“It seems like you already retrieved the information I need, and it will be much quicker get it from you than try to locate it on Supervillain’s server.” He took a step forward. She took a step back and switched the marker to her bare left hand.

Her back hit the window, and then he was right there.

Much much much too close.

She steeled herself and met his gaze.

“Go right ahead.”

His eyes widened as she offered him her right arm.

He pushed up her sleeve, eyes flickering across her face, expecting some sort of trap.

Tightening her grip around the sharpie, Hero let her powers flow through her.

Villain’s long fingers closed around her wrist as her mind went black.

She stood impassively, letting the blackness wash through her mind, erasing all conscious thought. His brows narrowed in concentration, and her knuckles turned white around the marker. His fingers tightened briefly before he released her and stepped back.

“You’re a mind reader as well?” He asked, pulling his thin gloves back on.

“Um what?”

“Only other mind readers are immune to my powers.”

Not only.

And she wasn’t immune to his power exactly. She’d just focused on the information stored in the sharpie, which, coincidentally, was the color black.

She shrugged. “I guess I’m just special.”

“Special enough you managed to break into Supervillain’s lair and hack his computer?”

“Something like tha—“ but he jumped forward and pressed a gloved hand over her mouth.

Shouts and hurried footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Villain leaned in close, breath brushing her ear. “If Supervillain catches us, we’re worse than dead.”

“Truce?”

He nodded then promptly shoved her to the side. Pulling on a length of wire spooled in a cylinder at his belt, he hooked it onto the window frame.

He bent to flip the lock.

“Wait!”

Hero stretched her hand out and touched the electronic locking mechanism.

“It’s alarmed.”

Villain looked at her curiously. “Can you disarm it?”

“Not from here.”

“I guess we’ll just have to be quick then.” He gestured to the desk. “You might want your hat though.”

She rushed to grab it, shoving the ends her hair into her jacket and pulling the beanie on to cover the rest.

Peeking through the glass at the ground below, Hero swallowed. There was a reason she didn’t have flight powers.

The handle on the door rattled, and Villain pushed open the window. Blazing alarms split the air as Villain put a foot on the windowsill.

“If I take you with me, I want all the information you have on him.”

The door burst open.

“Deal.”

She didn’t have time to think about the looming drop before he pulled her against his chest and they fell through the air, bullets whizzing above them. They hit the ground with a jolt, and Villain grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and away from the guards streaming towards them. They made it to the perimeter fence, and he boosted her over before easily swinging himself up. He led Hero into the trees, where a motorcycle sat concealed behind some bushes.

“The flash drive,” he gasped, bent over, hands on his knees.

“What?” she wheezed back, clutching her side.

He straightened. “Before we go any further, I want the flash drive you copied.”

“I don’t have a flash drive.”

His eyes darkened, and she rushed on, “But I do have the information on what Supervillain is planning.”

“So you read the files, know all the details.”

“I, well... not exactly... with my powers...”

She pushed up her sleeve.

“Look, this is what I have. But can we please have this conversation somewhere else.” She glanced back nervously at the fence and the flashlights that were growing closer.

Villain grabbed her shoulders, pulling her towards him, green eyes gleaming in the light from the compound.

“First, you’re going to tell me: what exactly is your power?”

She sighed.

“You ever heard of osmosis?”

#osmosis #heroes and villains #hero x villain #spies #hero #villain #supervillain #super powers #snippet #writebrl #my writing #write #not a prompt

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mashiraostail · 3 years

Note

hello!! can i have miruko and midnight with a student intern (PLATONIC) who just defeated a really strong villian that a lot of other heroes failed to beat? and they’re like suuuuper proud of them and brag to everyone about how strong their apprentice is? thank you!!

i’ve never written for Mirko but i, like most midnight simps, love her as well so hopefully this does her justice!

Rumi Usagiyama/Mirko To be honest you had no idea what you did. You’d never admit that, of course. If you’d learned anything from your mentor it was just to fake it till you made it, even if you were totally lost. Puff out your chest and look in charge, as long as you look like you belong someplace no one will bother you. Maybe you’d taken the advice too far because now you were alone, and this villain was out of your league, but it looked like everyone trusted you. When you looked around for Rumi, desperate for her help she seemed wrapped up in her own fight. “Hey, you’ve got it! Don’t look so scared! You can’t rely on others forever!” It spurred you on just enough, the other thing you’d picked up from the rabbit hero was her incredibly hot head. She fully intended to go in after you, sure she knew you couldn’t rely on her help forever, but you were just a kid, she’d have a tough time taking on that guy alone and she had no intention of making you do it by yourself either, she just wanted you to loosen him up so to speak. Once her own affairs are handled, 3 lower level villains tied to a telephone pole she turns to make way to you, but all she hears is a loud thud, and your opponent is on the ground. “Holy shit!” She shouts, starting to jump. “Did you see that?!” You shout back, also starting to jump. “NO but I’m gonna imagine it until the day I die!” She was as strong as she looked, the way she tackles you knocks the wind out of your probably terribly bruised chest. But you don’t mind, not really anyway. “Tell me everything!” She’s shaking you, your brain feels like soup in your head, and you can practically feel it rattling around your skull. It’s not like it had been an easy win. You definitely had a concussion. “How the hell did you do that?!” She’s starting to inspect you for any serious damage, twisting and tugging your hero costume, “look at you go! Outshining me!” The camera crews were fast approaching as she continues her elated praise. “You’re gonna be a total chart-topper when you graduate!” She spins you around to look at your back. “And you’ve barely got a scratch!” “I think I have a major concussion. And I think a rib is floating somewhere ribs shouldn’t float.” You rub the aching area and she laughs. “Nothing Recovery Girl can’t fix. I’ll give her a call.” Rumi is massaging your shoulders, facing you again. “How the hell’d you do that?” “I..honestly don’t know.” You shake your head, “it just...I kept doing what felt right.” “You are a serious powerhouse, kiddo. Keep your books closed, you’re gonna be my sidekick when you’re old enough. I’m calling dibs.” She’s saying it to you yet also seemingly announcing it to the surrounding newscasters. “As much as I wanna take credit for this guy, it was all my star pupil.” She shakes you some more, you love Rumi, but she was like a big sister, a buff, heavy-hitting, rough and tumble big sister who didn’t feel pain or understand that other people felt it. “We’d love to stick around but I’ve got some damaged goods here.” She slings an arm around your shoulder, roughly, you hiss at her. “Usagiyama-se-OW stop!” You can’t help but laugh, even as the pain rattles down your stomach. “Make way, make way. Come on, you saw the whole fight there’s nothing else we can tell you, just share the footage so bad guys know to watch out for this kid.” She thumps her foot and the camera crews practically part like the Red Sea for you, you aren’t sure how you ended up with such an impressive mentor. “So I’ll give Recovery girl a ring, but until then what do you think about cake?” She meanders down the street, and arm still slung around you, “I was thinking-” “Carrot. I know.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Look at you catching on, you’ll be a pro in no time.” “Can we get a cab?” You whine, “I think I broke my nose.” “No, and now it’s time for your next lesson under the great and powerful Usagiyama-sensei; walking it off!” “That’s so unfair!”

Nemuri Kayama/Midnight You didn’t attend UA, actually, you didn’t even bother applying. So when Midnight took you on as a student you were surprised, to say the least. But you learned a lot from her and had grown...surprisingly close. She was level headed and confident, everything she did she did with clear purpose, you could sense her intention even as she walked. These were all traits you were picking up, at times you probably looked much more confident than you felt. You aren’t sure if you should accredit that or terrible luck to your current situation, and Midnight was nowhere to be found. You were backed into a corner, this villain was way too much for you, he’d been way too much for every hero that went against them, always getting away and always leaving the hero more than a little banged up. You couldn’t run there was nowhere to go, even if you used your quirk to flee you couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t be followed, and you weren’t sure you could outrun him. “Stop trying to size everyone up!” You can hear her voice clear as day in your head, “you’ll know how strong they are when the fight starts, looks can be deceiving, and trying to figure out a million what-if scenarios will make you forget what is. Give it your all, you’d be surprised how often it works out in your favor.” You heed her advice, believing in yourself and your abilities. Midnight cannot believe she lost you. She had a bad habit of losing kids, just misplacing them, it’s not like she could pick and choose who was immune to her quirk, usually, she told her allies to scatter before activating it, the last thing she wanted was you passed out on the street and prone. She skids down every alley she passes, eyes casting up to awnings and low rooftops to search for you, she hears fighting, she follows the sound. She turns the corner just in time to see him go down, You’re on his shoulders behind him, legs wrapped around his neck, you’re hitting the top of his head, his face, pulling his nose and mouth and threatening his eyes, you were fighting totally dirty until the minute the guy hit the ground. She was proud. “Well.” You fall off him before he hits the ground, dusting off your tattered costume. “Look at you go!!!” She shouts and you perk up considerably at her voice, glad to no longer be alone. “Midnight!” You beam, “did you see??” “See?” She scoffs, running toward you, “I recorded it in my mind!” She taps her temple, “I wish I could have seen the whole fight!” She swoops you up, crushing you into her chest, “but what I did see was incredibly impressive! You’re learning well!” You brace yourself against her shoulders as she looks up at you, “we’ve been trying to take that guy out for weeks. Eraser isn’t gonna believe it when I tell him it was you who did it.” You flush at that, embarrassment at the thought of her bragging to her colleagues about you warms up the tips of your ears. “God! Where’d UA go wrong letting you fly under the radar??” She was squeezing you, shaking you. You didn’t mind, despite the throbbing all over body ache you had, it was nice to be praised and appreciated, especially by a mentor as strong a Nemuri. “You’re gonna be a great hero one day.” She sets you down, clasping your shoulders in her hands, “you’ve got the makings of a real wrecking ball, sprout.” "Do you think so?” “Uh, yeah. Duh.” She snorts, starting to pinch your cheeks, “you’re a bulldozer! You gave that guy a beating for every hero he banged up ten times over!” She glances at the passed out villain, he was sporting two tender looking black eyes. “You’re probably hurt.” She wraps an arm tight around your shoulders, “where’s it hurt?” “My head.” You let yourself lean into her side, “and my legs.” “The school is nearby, you can rest up there.” She’s rubbing your arm, they’re quick affectionate strokes that make friction heat up your arm and squeeze you close to her side. “And I can show off my star, I can’t wait to brag to everyone about you.” “That’s unbecoming!” You blush at the thought of her showing you off to Present Mic and Eraser Head, gloating about your victory to pros like Vlad King and Hound Dog. She laughs you off, “no it’s not, but everyone’s jealousy will be!” You groan and roll your eyes but happily let her squeeze you a little tighter, it feels nice to be appreciated and Nemuri, despite how she scoffed at you when you said it, had a sort of maternal air to her at times like this. You won’t say you’ve never called her ‘mom’ by accident. “I clearly have the best apprentice out of everyone! So of course I need to show you off and light a fire under everyone’s ass!”

#mirko x reader #rumi usagiyama #nemuri kayama x reader #midnight x reader #midhgt #rumi usagiyama x reader #bnha x reader #bnha requests #platonic

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tetsustation · 3 years

Text

[ HANG THE STARS ]

pairing :: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

synopsis :: the stars were always second best to him, and growing up you were nothing short of inseparable. however, after he was torn from you, you had no choice but to move on. upon entering graduate school for astronomy, you run into a familiar face from your past—and this time he’s determined to show you he’s changed—despite what happened before his parting.

word count :: 8.2k

genre :: early 20th century au, graduate school au, childhood friends to lovers, pining on crack, a little hurt/comfort, astronomer!reader, economist!kuroo

warnings :: swearing, smoking, jumps between past and present, mild sexism

notes :: hey......... none of my long fics are done but i do want to post a piece on this blog so this is the last thing i posted before i moved

Frankly, from head to toe, you could only describe your current emotion as one of immense discomfort. The ground felt rough and unsteady under the curved heel of your shoe, and the underkeepings of your skirt were digging into the side of your thigh. With the wind zipping past without as much as a moment’s hesitation, you found it difficult to feel anything but.

Looking around however, you came to the conclusion that you may not be the only one. Everyone was always a bit tense on the first day back—and while you were no school child swinging a leather swaddle of books—you were not immune to first day jitters either. Higher education of this rank was never a feat you saw yourself attempting to conquer, yet here you were.

Peers of yours had nurtured their trades to build a steady career by now—yet here you were, a ripe mind ready for sculpting. It seemed iditoic to repress your vibrant curiosity for such staunt domestics. Still, halfway through your twenties, it was safe to say your family expected other things from a young lady such as yourself.

Still, the conventional only enabled so much growth.

At your side, you gripped your satchel with great fervor. Nothing of great importance was inside, really; a few pens, two or three binded notebooks, you even vaguely recalled tossing in an apple before you left. Yet, it was the only thing you were familiar with—the only thing to grab onto. You pressed your palms into the straps, grounding yourself to the best of your ability.

The leaves crunched underneath your feet, as you walked along to your first hall—the class sizes were small and yet the campus was rather large. Each building flaunted a different array of faded brink that bordered wide windows. The glass was fogged from morning precipitation and still you could make out the people inside—the curve of their jaws and outline of their ears, at the very least.

Approaching the building you circled on a crumpled map in your pocket, you glimpsed down in hopes of perfecting your step up. If anyone was paying attention, at least they’d know you weren’t clumsy. Though, insecurity is a nasty thing, because just when you thought you were in the clear, there was a shout in your general direction.

“Move it! Can’t a guy get a picture?”

After steadying yourself inside of the roofed entrance to the building, you turned at the sharp sounds as they flew past your ear in an echo. A boy, who looked no older than yourself, was shouting at you from behind a contraption that's only partially metal. Your eyes flicked to the lens he was adjusting upon spotting your figure.

“What?” was all you were able to stutter before backing into a figure you weren’t aware was approaching from behind.

Your back hit a figure with a broader build than your own. Any tension that you had managed to fizzle away was washing over again, all at once—knots in your stomach twisted ten times over, a struggle you’d had to tackle after you were out of this predicament.

The guy in front of you pouted as he maneuvered his camera at your disruption, the one behind you threw some halfhearted apologies in your direction, all of which settled right in the shell of your ear due to proximity.

God, you could’ve died right then and there if a higher power allowed it.

Momentarily, however, you were able to ignore the boy a few yards in front of you, tuning out the curses he began muttering to himself—because the voice behind you sounds so sincere, so familiar. Nostalgia swirled in your stomach the moment you turned around to offer a weak apology of your own.

“Well, what do you know?” He chuckled.

A death wish, was what you had.

There was a puff of sorts at the top of his head that never seemed to go away, it fell flap over the top of his face, and you followed the trail of inky black down to his cheeks. They looked cool to the touch, but you couldn’t tell through the tan complexion he donned. His smile was cheeky, a smirk that climbed alongside your confusion.

To say you recognized him would be an understatement, but you questioned yourself on the outcome of coming clean about that or walking right past him. In the time that you considered your choice in the matter, you learned that you really had none at all—because the camera boy was yelling once again.

“Are you guys gonna get the hell out of my shot, or am I gonna have to call the dean or somethin’?”

A flush of heat settled under your cheekbones, and without a moment's notice you ducked under his arm and rushed for the door. Unaffected by your rush, the boy you bumped into, with the unkempt hair, trailed behind you in haste. You began to speed walk through the halls, but he simply trailed after you—offering up polite nods and smiles to anyone you two passed.

He nearly bumped into you when you stopped abruptly, eyes fixed on the handle you were trying to budge open—the numbers matched the ones on your schedule, and you hoped your first class would be a good enough excuse to opt out of this reintroduction. Unfortunately though, like most things in your life, that dream was just out of reach.

As your hands pawed at the jammed handle, he placed a gentle hold on your shoulder, which left you no choice but to turn around and face him. He huffed slightly, trying to soothe the pattering in his chest from both the chase and the shock of seeing your face—you’d grown, but so had he.

“I don’t get a hello?” Sheepishly, he asked.

“Hello, Tetsurou.” It was meek, and you presumed it’d warrant enough for you to turn back around—it did not.

He turned you around again, “That’s all I get?”

There was no room in your frazzled body for his game of catch up, “For now? Yes, good day.”

Finally, you were able to push the door open from behind, to which you slipped through before he could form a coherent sentence out of his stutters. Instead, you found a bundle of other students setting up for class, you followed suit in an attempt to mask the heat pooling around your face.

On the other side, Kuroo had been brought to a standstill by your clear avoidance of him. With a pathetic hand outstretched to the now closed door, he adjusted his lapels before turning and making a brisk beeline out towards the door whence he came.

When he saw the boy with the camera again on the way out, he flipped him off.

For the most part, classes came easy. You’d be concerned if they didn’t, considering you spent your summer reading the list of books assigned from back to back, a second time through each for annotations. Beyond prepared was what you were determined to be the moment you stepped onto campus, in a field such as astronomy, there was only so much you could do to set yourself apart from your male peers.

No matter how they perceived you—know-it-all or ditz incarnate—they’d have a problem with you. However, if your marks were higher than theirs, at least they’d have the resignation to stay away. That’s how you survived your first week and a half or so.

You made friends from the English department as well as the Biology department, neither of which were your pest from the first day. The thought of you and him attending the same school sent shivers down your spine. What were the odds? He’d always been intelligent—that of which on par with your own, but you hadn’t shared an educational space with him since your primary education years.

Why now?

The thought, productive or not, didn’t serve you much. Still, it was rather stimulating. To think that you blocked out so much of your childhood for the repercussions of one singular person. He was a nuisance—as most boys were. Maybe that's why you had such a matured vendetta against them, but your occupancy in academia certainly served as a nice scapegoat.

The book hit the table and dust circumferenced the air like a cloud atop your heads. He coughed and waved a hand to sway away some of the particles, but you couldn’t care less—your head was already buried in the text.

It’s forbidden territory, your fathers office. And yet, you and Kuroo made a point of devising a plan to sneak inside while your parents were gone. It was dark, aside from the singular tall window that shone against the side of his mahogany work desk. Your mind was on the bookshelf, and Kuroo was your innocent accomplice—he leaned over your shoulder as you opened the page of interest.

“There it is!” You beamed, pointing a dainty finger at the dots on the page.

There were curved lines and labels identifying the longitude and latitude points, big and small dots as well as numbers served as a guide for your raw mind. You quickly connected some dots before turning to him, a smile wider than a ravene masking your face

“Phoenix.”

He took a minute, and you stepped aside to give him space, his brain was a little slower than yours when it comes to these things—not well adept to things he couldn’t hold or see with raw eyes. Still, with the glint in your eyes, he couldn’t help but take your word for it—this thing was real.

“This’s the one you saw in the sky?” He questioned, glancing over his shoulder.

You nodded quickly, arms crossed in knowing contentedness. Identifying the constellation you saw in the sky made you feel as though you cracked one of the biggest secrets in the modern world—that you were an explorer and the Earth was your oyster. You could only conquer so much land with your tiny feet, but having Kuroo beside you to cheer you on made you feel a little taller.

“No way.” A mutter to himself, as he turned back to the page, running his fingers down the thin pages.

Kuroo noted the other constellations surrounding it on the page, they were cut off at the edges—the focus being on Phoenix and leaving space for facts on it in the margins. His eyes flicked back and forth as he committed the writing to near memory, if he could recall them later, perhaps he wouldn’t need to risk his hide to sneak you back in here later.

The door clicked from the other room, and Kuroo snapped the book shut quicker than his small arms could process the action. You were quick to grab it out from under him, smearing some leftover dust bunnies. Stood on your tip-toes, you brought it back up to the shelf, and pushed it in with a few taps before running out the room—Kuroo close behind.

That was only one of many secret endeavors in uncharted territory.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to rustle in place, the breeze did nothing to smooth over your momentary shock as you readjusted in your seat, marking the page in your book with a dog-ear. There was a scowl forming somewhere on your face, and there was nothing you could to stop it as you turned around, boots dug into the grass below as you did so.

“Can I help you?” You asked, to the abdomen of someone unfamiliar—until you looked up.

Somehow, he had found you again. Today his blazer was gray, you noted, as he made his way around the bench to sit beside you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked, despite the fact that he was already seated.

You rolled your eyes, he was always one for a jest, and it did nothing to soothe your growing irritation with him. Glared is what you did as he rubbed his palms against the thighs of his slacks, you cringed as the fabric rippled ever so slightly. He mumbled something about the precipitation—technically he was right, it did rain last night.

“Fancy seeing you here!” He reveled in your expression, scrunched dramatically as you feigned annoyance in his presence.

You were always one to put up a fight, but if he was anything it was stubborn, “I find it quite astounding really, I didn’t know they permitted women into the science department of this institution.” He remarked in a clear to get a rise out of you, you wouldn’t allow the satisfaction.

“Yes, actually. There’s a few of us, believe it or not.” You opened the page in your book again, ready to disregard his presence altogether—but he had other plans.

“I always knew you had a brain inside that pretty head of yours.” The crease in your face divotted, you glared at his smile as he looked at the damp trees—heavy with dew.

“I would sure hope so,” You countered with an exaggerated sigh, “I was always the one tutoring you in our youth after all. Perhaps I’m the one to account for your acceptance here in the first place, no?”

Kuroo chuckled deeply, and you were somewhat tempted to smile, “Surely you’ll keep that fact to yourself, won’t you?” He finally pivoted to face you entirely, “I’d be disgraced if it got out that an underclassman was responsible for my success!”

“I don’t know, I quite like having something over your head,” You looked at him, meeting his sharp amber, “Tetsurou.”

With that, he hummed to himself, obviously satisfied with your answer. He turned to observe the pedestrians as they passed. Mild confusion set in, and you tried to match his line of sight, but it didn’t surmount too much. As you turned back to your book, you glanced at his face one more, there was a quaint smirk holding his mouth closed. For now, you figured his presence was enough.

The table rattled as you threw down your tray, mildly exasperated, “I just think the program could broadcast to other demographics if they tried a little harder, is all!”

Hinata jumped slightly, throwing his hands up as you sat down, “We’re already underfunded as it is, the student board is working on a new brochure for the science department but we’ve been having issues with the photographs.”

You tensed at the mention, vaguely recalling your less than fortunate encounter with one of the aforementioned hires on your first day. It wasn’t fair for Hinata to be the sponge for your stand-off with the peer counsel, he was merely a freshman representative—not much influence in one say or the other.

At least you had a friend from your branch of study, Hinata being one of the only boys in your core classes that you got along with. He was sweet, and shared a passion for the stars similar to your own—he had dreams to pursue astronauting. With his determination, there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind about his achieving it.

Beside him sat Yachi, and across from her—on your right—was Kiyoko. The former studying English, and the latter Chemistry. A balance in which was carefully sculpted during your first month. Something about the group brought you comfort, they were your safety net from the pretentiousness of it all, the rocks that held you down to the recently cemented Earth.

A nudge hit your side, and you quirked in annoyance, some of the food was knocked off your fork as a result. Kiyoko was eyeing something beyond you, something that was obtaining a clear shot at the back of your head.

“I think that guy has his sights set on you,” She nodded in that direction, “He’s been staring since we sat down.”

With how fast you turned your neck, you might’ve been at risk for dislocating something. The expression that followed was something of a mix between vexation and despondency. Kuroo Tetsurou, of all people, wiggled his eyebrows in your direction—his table was filled to the end seat, and yet he was fixed on you.

“Do you know him?” Hinata chirped, mildly intrigued by the silent interaction.

You tilted your head to and fro, considering how to respond, “You could say that.”

And almost on queue, he stood up. Your company almost gasped at his height, and you were tempted to roll your eyes as he stretched to accentuate it. Frankly, you didn’t care to take in his stroll to your table, didn’t want to indulge his antics. You turned back to your tray and before you knew it he was leaning over your shoulder, dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” Kuroo nearly whispered, you whipped around dramatically, to which he tumbled back.

“Bold of you to assume you're entitled to such.”

Sticking his hands into deep pockets, and pushing his lips together in a tight smile—he assumed this meant you were back to your icy composure. Still, who would he be to give up so quickly? Well aware that you harbored a sweet spot for him despite years of space, and nothing but, he pushed your buttons a bit further.

“That’s no way to treat your dearest friend from childhood, now is it?”

Tempted to snap something vile at him, you masked for the sake of your friends—it’d be embarrassing if you were to have an outburst in the middle of the cafe. He began to rock back and forth on the heels of his dress shoes—they were shined, and the black reflected the walls that surrounded the room.

“Fine.” You spoke through gritted teeth, turning back to face the table—the energy behind your eyes was rather unnerving, but they played along nonetheless, “This is Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“We grew up together.” You concluded, and before you knew it the devil was back over your shoulder again.

“We did a lot more than grow up together,” He added, matter-of-factly. You could see the shit-eating grin without so much as pivoting around.

“Sure.” A hiss, “Satisfied?”

“Very.” He hummed, “It was an absolute pleasure to meet your acquaintance! A goodday to you all.”

Tipping a non-existent hat, he retreated to his table, littered with other future economists—deliberating investment and whatnot. The bite you took of your bread was rather bellicose, and the group decided it was better not to press on the matter. Your fuming didn’t cease, and still his chipper attitude made you wonder if your reproach was ever really justified.

The door was pushed open with all too much vigor, and the hinges sent it flying back against the wall adjacent to the frame. Kuroo winced, and the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins ran cold when he met the scorning eyes of your mother.

“Watch the door Tetsurou, you know I hate when you two slam it.” He was quick to apologize, and subconsciously, his voice ran high.

The house was small, quaint—and yet it felt warmer than his ever had. Hence, why he spent every waking hour he could in your home, if not the field surrounding it. Chasing behind him, was your exhausted figure, heaving for the relief of rest as your muscles worked overtime to carry you to the door.

“I win!” He shouted, pride restored as you trudged in with a pout.

“How cruel! It’s not fair your legs are longer than mine.” Your whine echoed off the wooden walls, nearly rattling the knick knacks that lined the wood panels.

The farm was your family’s primary source of income, and yet your bundle was well sustained, so much so that you’d practically taken the charming boy from a miles down under your welcoming wings. Things got boring, he’d recall, with just his father for company—who took trips into town all too often to call his presence a constant.

Walking further into the kitchen as you withered at the open door, he watched your mother knead dough into a wood platform—brought out of the closet only for baking. Seeing his lanky frame approach, she wiped her hands on the fronts of her apron before sending one up to rest on his unkempt tufts. That of which she quickly removed when she felt the perspiration from your chase linger on the strands.

“I can’t say it’s fair either, you’re both getting so big I don’t even recognize you anymore.” She sighed, pained nostalgia dripping off her tongue.

Kuroo’s growth was more obvious than yours, legs shooting him well over your height in just a year alone—but your own growth didn’t go unnoticed either. You were growing far more curious, so much so that it was dangerous, and your mother only hoped your tether to the ground would keep you steady in the years to come.

“Say, isn’t your birthday coming up Tetsurou?” His eyes flicked to you as you finally stood up again, coming over to the table to rest your arms on it—your dress was beyond dirtied, he noticed.

“Yes.” He started simply, “Twelve. Two weeks from yesterday.”

Gasping dramatically, he watched your eyes glow with sudden anticipation, you turned to your mother, “We have to celebrate!”

She giggled, “That we do. Make sure to let your father know I’ll handle dinner, just bring yourselves.”

Nodding, he smiled upwards with gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to do so.”

Up until a certain point, you recall Kuroo being nothing but sweet to you. He’d keep you on your toes, only to spot your back in case you fell over. On par with you intellectually, but still managed to keep your ego well fed. A shoulder to cry on, if not an open arm. Perhaps that's why you fell for him so quickly, hitting the ground the moment you discovered what the concept meant in your own, domestic context.

Or perhaps, you were always in love with him, and decided it was best to keep it up tucked away with a lock and key. Out of sight, out of mind. The only problem was, he was always in sight—and most always in mind. So much for that plan.

He entertained you, for a while he did. So much so that you believed perhaps you marched to the beat of the same drum, hands and arms intertwined. A childish dream, it must’ve been, however. Kuroo went away when he was fifteen, you fourteen—and in his wake, left shattered glass that’d you continue to step on for years to come.

You’d’ve been able to see your anguish clear as day through the shards, and yet the pain it caused was mostly invisible—that is until you came into contact with it. Using books as bandages and stars as antiseptic, you had, for the most part, cleaned up the glass left behind.

However, one shard had been left one—that of which was now a six foot giant.

A six foot giant that knocked on your door well beyond curfew.

Really, you could’ve fallen out of your chair, it would’ve been comical but well warranted. Another knock, and you couldn’t believe the voice you picked up behind the door. The hands on the clock read somewhere around eleven. You pondered what ridiculous game he was playing at this time.

Realising that if someone were to walk by, you’d both be in trouble, despite the fact that he was the one standing outside your door. Fear of the floor manager sent a shiver up your spine, and so you had no choice but to fling open the door and drag him in by the wrist. Beyond shocked, Kuroo fell back against the door—effectively closing it with a noise much too loud for the hour.

Thank the lord you were decent.

“What!? What could you possibly want at this hour!” You shouted in a hushed tone, his eyes widened at your outburst, he hadn’t seen you angry in quite a while.

Sheepishly, he held up a book, and your eyes flicked back between the hardcover in his hand and the wobbly smile he sported in an attempt to justify the stunt he pulled. You were about to speak again, chew him out for a second time—it was certainly at the tip of your tongue. Shoving the book into your chest, he effectively shut you up.

“Just—just look at the bookmarked page.”

Words, beyond words, was what you had for him. Still, you humor him—you often found it difficult not to. With a furrowed brow, you flipped through the pages, “You know if they found you in the women’s dormitory we’ll both be scandalized, and what’ll happen then, Tetsurou? What’ll happen when….”

Trailing off, your fingers felt the creased edges of his worn bookmark. There was a coffee stain, but that wasn’t what you were focused on. Instead, your eyes traced the page behind the bookmark. It's familiar, so much so that you can practically feel the dust tickle your nostrils, despite the fact that this book was much newer than the one you uncovered all those years ago.

“Phoenix.”

Kuroo hummed, taking that it was okay to finally step away from the door, and relieving the tension in his shoulders. As he stepped towards you, he pointed at the dots you were so mesmerized with, your fingers were centimeters away from that of his own as your pads danced along the page.

“I was studying late in the library and stumbled across it.” He remarks in sotto voce. “It’s our constellation.”

That it was, and your heart ached lowly for the version of him that’d admire the stars with you and call them by name. The boy who’d read astronomy books just so he could recite facts to you in a hushed tone, and make you fall for him faster than a hurdling meteorite—you wondered where he went.

Away. Your brain chimed, utterly unprompted. That’s where he went.

Frankly, you weren’t sure your brain could sustain a third version of Kuroo Tetsurou. There was your beloved childhood best friend, the adolescent brute who shattered your heart, and the one standing before you now—the cheeky bastard with a knack for breaking into your personal space at every opening.

Still, this very well might’ve been his attempt at extending an olive branch.

With that thought, he leaned over slightly, ghosting the shell of your ear, “I miss you.”

Well, whatever he was doing, was working.

The night was young, but for a child such as yourself it was well past the point of beginnings. There was a worry fluttering behind your eyes like a ragged butterfly, with wings that graced the most peculiar parts of your growing brain, trying to formulate logical conclusions—but to no avail. Continuing to antagonize sleep did you no good either—so instead you sat up, utterly defeated.

Outside, wind whistled along the panes of your window, you could make out the sounds of settling cicadas, restless birds as they circle in the night sky—supposedly black but deciding to lay over the land below in hues of dark blue instead. The world was quiet, however, it was not asleep. That was enough to justify your staying up, and the moonshine was there to keep you company.

With your head in an adventure book (one which your father had brought home as a gift), your subconscious began to wander farther and farther from home, as you internalized the ink on the page. There was a patter that you missed against your window. It was nothing, a drop of misguided rain or perhaps a nut from the nearby tree. Then you heard it again, a little more aggressive than its predecessor.

Only when you heard it for a third time did you drop to your knees, crawling across the dishealved mattress to examine the racket on the other side. You struggled immensely to turn the rusty handle that clasped the frame in place, with a muted squeak, it was finally opened—to which you stuck your head out.

Below, Kuroo stood with his hands behind his back, hair more unruly than it typically was and lines of threatened red encasing his eyes. As if someone had heard you twiddling your thumbs in concern, the cause of the butterfly in your head was brought to your window—yet, he was anything but cheery.

There were only so many times you had seen your friend genuinely upset. Though, you were certain that this moment earned a spot on that list, because as you lifted his figure up into your room with some unseen force, he began mumbling about his trek there—one whole mile, in the dark.

The moment he was comfortable on your bed, scraped knees and all, you pestered.

“My father was very cross with me today.” There was a crack in his voice as he spoke—a sign of his heightening maturity, you couldn’t help but cringe. “Said that I shouldn’t keep wasting time.”

“...Wasting time?” You parroted.

He inhaled—long and deep, “He gave me an ultimatum. Either I pick a trade and pursue it, or I get sent away to a boarding school to further my education.”

Vaguely, was the extent to which you knew the word ‘ultimatum,’ but his tone gave way to the fact that this wasn’t celebratory. Boarding school wasn’t all that bad, from what you’ve heard—however, you were not prepared to send your best friend miles and miles away. Still, you knew deep down he never wanted to go to a trade school, because he was like you.

“Tetsurou… we were supposed to go to university together.” You recalled the plan the two of you had made a few years back, “We were going to study for entrance exams with those big books they have down at the shop and leave funny notes in the margins and—,”

“I know.”

You snapped your jaw shut and gave him leeway to speak, “But you see… I didn’t have a choice, really. He said I have to choose before I turn fifteen, and that's only a few months away.”

In his eyes, you saw that he had already made this decision himself. Now, he was nothing more but a bearer of bad news, “What did you pick?”

A beat, “Boarding school, of course.”

The cap on the lens came off with ease. In fact, if you were feeling like a show-off, you could spin it off like a cheap beer top. However, it was dark, and you didn’t quite feel like having a piece of your telescope roll off the roof of the building. Instead, you shoved it into your pocket, and adjusted the stand.

Behind you, Kuroo was nursing a cigarette. You hadn’t seen him pull it out, nor did you see him light it. Yet, somehow, it was in between his lips. Smoke dissipated into the night sky as he took a lengthy drag and the wind carried it elsewhere, all the while readjusting the fabric of his loose dress shirt.

“Since when do you smoke?” You inquired, while you partially leaned on the cement to get a good look at the bottom of the contraption.

He thought for a few moments, looking beyond the ledge of the building and to the stifled pine beyond, “Eighteen. I picked it up during my schooling.”

You scrunched your nose, returning to your work, “Nasty habit, that is. You ought to quit.”

A chuckle escaped him, “If it was you that asked, I probably would.”

To say you were friends might’ve been pushing it. Certainly, at this point you weren’t strangers. However, the bond that you shared was worth not a cent compared to once was. In another life, is what it felt like. The force that tied you to him was one that transcended time and space, the history was there—the physicality of it all was not.

“Pass me your handkerchief.” You asked, whipping your head around, “Please.”

He complied, taking the free hand out of his pocket and allowing the small piece of plush fabric to trail after—that of which being stuck between his middle and ring fingers. For the sole purpose of making things easier (and to keep the wafted smoke away from your telescope), you met him halfway, pinching it out of his grasp with your own fingertips.

Capturing the flow of wind, you flapped it in the air a few times to ensure its cleanliness, before you brought it to the exposed lens, circling it clean until it reflected the glowing marble up above. Once satisfied, you turned to him—hands resting on your hips as you kicked a loose pebble in his direction with the tip of your boot.

“Put it out,” you snapped, both verbally and with the tips of your fingers.

Kuroo promptly dropped the wrapped nicotine to the ground, smushing it with his dress shoe—they’ve become dirtied as of late, a layer of grime painted around the edges. He wiped his hands along the sides of his pant legs, before walking towards you. A hunch formed in your spine while you leaned over to peer into the eyepiece, and you kept a steady hand on the focus knob.

Fascinated with the way your fingers danced along the metal, manipulating it to get the clearest view of the foreign sky above, he watched in awe. After adjusting the placement of the counterweight and whatnot, gasped quietly—catching the weight of the sight you were looking for all along.

“Now it’s not Phoenix,” you began, “But I think it’s quite miraculous.”

Stepping back, you made space for him—he used that clever brain of his to collect the memo, and replicate your stature, standing where you once were and dropping his height to accommodate. It was difficult, frankly—considering the fact that his height was certainly not meant for a telescope such as this. Still, he made it work.

“Tell me, what am I looking at?”

“Volans.” You claimed, matter of factly, “Found in the southern sky, it translates in most languages to ‘The Flying Fish.’”

He hummed, “And what else?”

“If you must know, it neighbors Carina and Dorado.”

“Fascinating.” He noted. It would’ve been condescending, had his hands not been gripping the telescope delicately in intrigue. You felt satisfied, knowing that you made a grown man bend over for a couple of stars, you even entertained the thought a little further—bringing yourself to a modest giggle.

Luckily, he didn’t notice. If he did, he didn’t show any indicators, “Care to show me another?”

The platform is relatively quiet, considering it was Friday morning—perhaps the morning rush had ended, but it didn’t seem quite so yet. Whatever the case, you couldn’t care less. The smile on your face wavered, and despite your best efforts, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep it steady.

In front of you, he stood with a hat in hand (it was much too small to push down the askew hairs on his head). This might’ve been the first time you’ve seen him in a suit, all dressed with linens bought from the best shops in town—it had cost a pretty penny, and his father made sure to remind him of such during the automobile ride there.

Luckily, he had permitted you to tag along, Kuroo’s father was not a mean man by any means—however, he was a stout traditionalist who held discipline as the highest of virtues. Momentarily, he had left you alone to go discuss the train’s course with the conductor, and perhaps purchase a map so that his son could navigate the train stations he’d encounter in the big city.

Or wherever that fated school of his was.

With the upcoming train, you felt the bittersweet of his departure manifesting as a lump in your throat. He had a wonky smile of his own, one that was almost apologetic, disquieted by what possible thoughts clouded your vision. You certainly plagued his mind, like the ending days of a run-in with hay fever—a flow of uninhibited air after irritable congestion.

It was when you placed your hands on his tall shoulders, brushing off nonexistent dust, that reality hit him. Kuroo, despite the weeks leading up to this moment—he had no idea how to say goodbye to you, to the one constant in his life. Would it be cruel just to walk away? Perhaps a proclamation would be suitable, or would that open pandora’s box? His perceptive skills ran fuzzy.

“You're ridiculous.” You started, “Leaving me like this, I ought to slap you, Tetsurou.”

A crick in his jaw became noticeable when it fell at your veiled threat, you continued despite, “Still I won’t. Those boys would patronize you, surely, if you arrived with an aching bruise on your cheek.”

You giggled to yourself, “From a younger girl, nonetheless.”

Dewy-eyed, he resisted the urge to stay planted in place, as it resonated under the soles of his shoes. He felt obligated to say something, what though—he was unsure of.

“I’ll be back,” Impulsively, he proclaimed.

“No. I don’t think you will.” As your hands glided off his shoulders, they hit your sides limply, “You’ll go away and make a gaggle of friends—one’s of your own age and physical capability. Perhaps you’ll return for holidays, but they’ll be far too scarce to justify a rekindling with the likes of me.”

He wanted to cut you off, tell you that that was far from the truth, you continued without a beat, “You’ll finish your schooling, go off to university and possibly even graduate school. Then you’ll find an office job that makes enough for you to sustain your father in his old age. You’ll find a pretty woman to call your wife, and bear your children—and you’ll live a fulfilling life, fulfilling enough, that is.”

Silence, and then you smiled, “And I’ll be far away, studying the stars with some of the greatest minds out there.”

Without noticing, his eyes did a subtle roll—certainly, you were ever the optimistic. Still, the waver in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him, you were scared. Fear was an unfamiliar color on you, but it painted streaks in insecurity and impending loneliness across your features. If that's really how you thought his life was going to play out, did you plan to say goodbye all this time?

Certainly not, it had to be a fib—one that’d make this a little easier.

However, if letting go was what you needed to fly, he wouldn’t dare let himself hold you back. He took a singular step back on the platform, standing tall, “I’ll make you proud.”

“You better,” You challenged him. “And one more thing.”

He hummed, steeling himself due to the intensity of your tone. The gloss in your eyes became a lot more visible, and as you looked down he could see them wobble on your tearline, “I am madly in love with you, if you’d believe it.

With your eyes on the ground, you waited for his answer. Perhaps this would be a tragic way to end your story, but you’d be damned before you left your truth go unsaid. He had to have felt the same way, or why else would he be looking at you so tenderly? Why else were you the only one besides his own blood coming to see him off?

It’d give you the closure you desperately needed to feel whole. If your physical half was gone, the least he could give you was his heart, on his sleeve. Surely, he wouldn’t leave you without a single memento behind for you to cling onto—you were only human after all.

Where the miscommunication occurred, you’d never know—but as his jaw gaped he pondered the honest answer, or the one that’d make you the happiest in the long run. The world loved to test his compass every single day, and he’d be a fool to assume today, of all days, would be any different. With great hesitation, he finally spoke.

“I’m afraid I can’t reciprocate those feelings, but thank you kindly.”

A step onto the tracks seemed rather pleasant, but before you could sprint forward—the squeal of the wheels told you it had arrived—marvelous timing. Fixed on the ground, your eyes didn’t even bother to meet his. Anger was a justified emotion, and yet you felt embarrassed to let it shine through—instead opting for a mutter ‘okay.’

And then his father was back, and handing him a wad of paper—telling him to ‘take it easy,’ and to ‘behave.’ And then he was stepping onto the train, leaving you with the full extension of that apologetic smile. And then he was gone, and you were back in his father’s automobile, returning home—a home littered with memories of him.

In Kuroo’s mind, he believed he did the right thing. Yet, you were right in predicting that after that point your friendship never really was the same. Letters were scarce, holidays scarcer. You had fully matured, and yet your heart remained juvenile, permanently stunted after it's a exertion on the station platform.

What a shame.

“Tell me something, how was boarding school?”

Something about throwing your time to the wind with him alongside you, on the roof of the science building, made you rather reminiscent. Up to this point, you had wasted a handful of hours in each other’s company—studying among other things. Yet, you never twisted his sleeve on the matter.

He adjusted his pace to be on beat with that of your own, an old habit he seemingly hadn’t parted with yet, “Why, it was quite enjoyable. I was the epitome of work hard, play harder.”

Right. However, you couldn’t help but note the fact that he had become more self-assured. There was an extra skip in his step, and he no longer slouched his shoulders when he talked to people—you wish you’d changed just as much, but frankly you can’t say that you had.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

That should’ve been the end of the conversation, it was beyond dark, and the trees rusted with the wind. A shiver climbed up your spine, which you repressed by rolling your shoulders. Kuroo had insisted on carrying your telescope gear under his arm, as he accompanied you back to your dormitory—all the while conversation remained small, flitting by with ease, until it didn’t.

“And I thought about you the entire time.”

You’d curse his name if you could for saying something heartfelt, and effectively throwing a boulder in the lake of casualty you had turned into a healthy ecosystem, “Please don’t fib, Tetsurou. We’re not children, remember?”

He looked at you, or rather your head, “Who said I was fibbing?”

Momentarily, you had stopped walking, rutting your feet into the cracked path beneath you, “So help me you’d best bite your tongue.” There was a pout that quietly crept onto your face.

He tittered, throwing his free hand out, “I’m not! Truly!” He’d even gone as far as to follow up the statement with a weak salut, ensuring his honor to you.

Suddenly, your face dropped— no longer resounding with the ingenuity that leaked from his words, “Then why did you say what you did that day?”

“At the train station, you mean,” He affirmed.

“Precisely.”

Looking around, he allowed his eyes to graze the landscape as he fathomed your accusation—perhaps you did have some standing in terms of your curiosity (or was it insecurity?). Still, he felt scolded under your watch, and wondered why he was being reprimanded for words he uttered nearly nine years ago.

“Are fifteen year old boys not allowed to tell the occasional white lie?” There was an underlying whine somewhere in his tone if you listened close enough.

You sent a weak kick to his calf, “Not about something of that nature!”

A brief silence suspended the words in thin air, as your heads scrambled to wrap around them. If someone were to pass by, they’d most likely assume the two of you were engaged in some sort of staring contest—trying to read the other person like a soggy book, pages dripping with what the crisp paper once said.

Finally, he spoke up diffidently, “Perhaps it was better that way. The last thing I wanted was your heart to follow me where it wasn’t permitted to go.”

Scoffing wholeheartedly, you crossed your arms, “I have full control over where my heart does and does not go, thank you very much.”

Then, you picked up walking again, only to have him scurry behind you—the rattling of your telescope against his side. There was something on the tip of his tongue, and it slid off with great difficulty, “However, we're not kids anymore. Now, I’d like to be given the opportunity to tell the truth.”

In hesitation, you stopped once again, only pivoting slightly to face him, “Do what you must.”

In a huff, he has returned to your side, forcing you to adjust your gaze. Expectantingly, you stared him down. There was a devil on your shoulder telling you to cross your arms, but you felt as though that’d be teetering on condescension. He took another deep breath, and let his lips settle in an awkward opening as he threw the statement around in his head before uttering it.

“I always reciprocated your feelings. I don’t recall a time in my life when I didn’t.”

And there it was, the stray puzzle piece. You can’t say it had fit perfectly, but it looked about right, and maybe if you twisted it a couple of ways, repositioned it perhaps—it’d finally fit. All you knew was that the anger you harbored felt strangely childish. Grudges were never productive, they said—but it kept you sane.

With him here though, standing in front of you so vulnerably, you figured your sanity could sustain itself for now.

Hands on your hips, you spoke up, “Well, what d’ya know?”

Earnestly, he smiled at you.

The quintessence of spring brought flower petals to the cobblestone you walked upon, and there was a faint twinge of guilt that erupted in your chest each time you stepped on one. Still, you had a destination and sigh, and only had condolences to offer to the flora as you raced by in anticipation.

Spring break hadn’t brought you back home like most, instead you stayed behind in the city—you had an internship at the nearest lab, it wasn’t your preferred field but it was a pipeline, that much you could respect. Still, you couldn’t help but feel giddy to be back on campus, your legs carrying you to the spot you so desperately yearned to reach.

Your scarf had fallen to your shoulder, but you were there—so frankly, it didn’t really matter. The curved cement enclosed the entrance to the science building, and despite the beautiful weather you couldn’t wait to be shadowed away by the comforting echo. At the steps you stood, and waited for him to notice you, he was fiddling with the buttons of his coat.

“Going to keep me waiting, are we?”

He looked up with widening sockets, his pupils followed suit—running up and down your figure. It had only been two weeks, but it appeared to be two weeks too long. Credulously, you hopped up the steps, without bothering to look down, only to loop your arms tight around his neck. Noticing the gasp that escaped him, you recognized that you had effectively knocked the breath from his lungs.

With a giggle, you stepped down, “I missed you.”

Moving stray hairs out of your face, he marveled in the expression he was met with—that youthful glint had never left your eyes, and it made him feel one with the elderly.

“I could say the same,” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “You look ravishing.”

Scoffing, you turned your head to the side, “You are insufferably saccharine, has anyone ever told you that?”

He must’ve not been satisfied with the response, because you found a gentle hand guiding your chin back up to face him. Just as you were about to quip once more, brought his lips down to close the space. They were warm, and tasted like unsweetened coffee, the words melted off your tongue as you fell into the cushion of his arms.

It was gentle, so much so that the pedestrian breeze could flow in between you, establishing a sort of counter circulation to the warmth radiating off your meshed figures. Missing the curve of his jaw under the morning light, you pulled away. There’s a smirk inching onto the part of his you were connected to, and it doesn’t quell your urge to pick fun.

“Sweet talker.”

He hummed, “But I didn’t say anything.”

Caught in your tracks, there was nothing to do but laugh—and with how warm he felt beside you, he couldn’t help but harmonize. Together, you built a symphony of giggles, and all the passerbyers could do was stare and revel at the deranged couple—snickering away at near nothing.

And yet, it was nothing short of the stars.

“You know, we're not nearly the same people we we're all those years ago.”

“Maybe not...but whoever we are now, I’m glad we're those people together.”

✿ TETSUSTATION — 2021 ; do not repost, translate, share without permission, or recycle my writing & layouts. this blog does not hesitate to hardblock in that instance!

#written.hq #fandom.hq #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro #tetusurou kuroo #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #hq x reader #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

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Into the Woods: chapter 1 | Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Neither you nor Frankie are expecting to run into anyone in the middle of the woods.

Tags: none!! all audiences!

Word Count: 3,054

Note: HE’S HERE!!! Please enjoy the official first installment of the outdoors insta frankie series 🌳📷😍 So much love to the wonderful @yoditorian for coming up with this concept and Frankie’s IG name, and also helping me brainstorm 💗💗💗

Backstory

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Francisco Morales loves this shit. Walking for hours without seeing another soul, nothing to think about but where to place his feet on the path ahead of him. Assuming he’s following a path at all. These are his woods- the country surrounding the house he’s lived in for years, a place just shy of isolated from the nearest town. They’re not really his, legally. He’s not exactly sure what the rules of land designation entail, but it’s not a national park, and no one has ever chased him up about the occasional wood-chopping or campfire-building he does.

So he walks.

It’s a damn perfect day for it, too. Brilliantly sunny with a hint of breeze, rustling the greenery around him and carrying the scents of sun-warmed leaves and late summer flowers. The birds are in high spirits, their vibrant chirping filling the air with chatter. Screeches of alarm, sometimes, too- a side effect of hiking with a giant energetic dog. Frankie watches ruefully as Oso crashes off into the undergrowth again, doubtless chasing down some poor creature.

He slows his pace to wait for her, taking the opportunity for a water break. His heavy pack thuds to the ground. Frankie grunts as he stretches, rotating his shoulders and flapping his sweaty t-shirt away from his back. I should really hike along the river more often, he muses. He doesn’t mind working up a sweat (obviously), but a ready supply of cool water during a long hike does wonders for one’s well-being.

“Boof!” Oso’s deep bark as she returns brings Frankie’s attention to her.

“Yeah? Would you like that, too? A nice swim in the river to cool you down?” He crouches to ruffle her neck fur the way she likes. Oso only pants in answer, blinking at him adoringly.

She slurps thirstily as Frankie pours some water from his bottle into her mouth. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Osita, we’ll be near some water soon.”

Their goal today is a small pond Frankie had only found earlier this year. It’s a good spot for his campfire cooking, as well as endlessly photogenic. This is marginally important to him, as he attempts to keep a regular diary of his wanderings through instagram. It’s mostly for fun, but like anyone else, he isn’t immune to the particular buzz from his posts unexpectedly getting a high number of likes.

But he had also discovered that he wasn’t the only one with this hobby. There were whole communities of people out there who found peace the same way he did, and they happily gave advice if ever he posted about a struggle.

Frankie pauses again a short way away from the pond to make sure he’s on course. Oso sniffs around excitedly, bounding off again while Frankie checks his GPS. “Huh.” Looking around, he laughs at himself a little when it tells him he’s almost walked past it. He rotates to his left and thinks he spots the telltale gap in the trees ahead. He tucks the GPS away.

Oso barks from somewhere ahead of him. A split second later, a human yelp sounds from the same direction. His eyes widen.

“Shit!” Frankie breaks into a run. In all the years he’s been out here, he rarely sees other people this far from the trails. “Oso!” he yells. “Here, girl!”

Oso isn’t aggressive (unless the situation warrants it), but whatever new friend she thinks she’s meeting won’t know that. Frankie races toward where he judges the noise came from, heart pounding. He bursts through some bushes and is almost knocked down by his beast jumping up to greet him.

“Hey, girl, who was- no!” Oso peels away again across a bit of clear ground, her collar slipping through Frankie’s fingers. He’s barreling toward where her tail wags from behind a bush, when you stand.

Frankie skids to a stop so abruptly his feet slide out from under him. His ass hits the ground with a thud, his rucksack taking only part of the fall. He scrambles upright gracelessly, clumsy with the weight on his back, never taking his eyes off of you.

You stare at each other.

Nothing about this moment feels real to Frankie- you could announce that you’re the dryad who rules this forest and he would believe you, that’s how unlikely your appearance is. Shifting sunbeams dapple your skin, and even from several feet away he can tell that you have the most striking eyes he’s ever seen.

For a second your gaze flicks down to the side. You lean slightly as if something has nudged you, and as you move your hand away from it Frankie realizes you’re holding something.

Shit. He returns to his senses. Is that a weapon?

He’s met people on the trails before, most of them harmless fellow hikers. But occasionally there are some with weird vibes, especially the farther away from the paths you got. He’s fully capable of defending himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have to.

“Oso! Here!” Frankie says sternly. Your expression doesn’t change as you watch the dog trot over to him. Jaw set, wide eyes tracking his every motion.

He supposes he can’t blame you for being wary. Or armed. It’s a perfectly reasonable response to running into a strange man in the middle of the woods. He knows he’s not exactly the picture of reassurance. Tall and broad, probably too sweaty to believably claim he’s on a casual hike. He decides to speak.

“Sorry to startle you.” Frankie keeps his hands by his sides where you can see them, resting one on Oso’s head. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

Your tense stance doesn’t relax. “Me either.”

His head tips to the side. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?” He tries to keep his voice slow and soothing.

He can see you assessing him, trying to measure how safe he is. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” Frankie pats the dog’s head in a more formal introduction. “I like to come out here and cook.” Your brow furrows at that, bemusement appearing amidst your guarded features. Before you can respond, he prompts “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

“Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” Disbelief is etched in every line of your face.

Well, when you say it like that.

Foraging. That makes perfect sense. Frankie follows a few of them on instagram. He’s always pleased when he notices the more obvious edible plants and berries, but it’s not usually his focus. His vegetable garden at home takes up most of his efforts. It’s managed to thrive in the years since he started it after leaving the army, and it’s become a source of pride for him to be able to wander out, pick some things for the day’s meal, and head right into the woods.

“Yeah,” he responds. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

Your eyebrows rise even higher at that.

Moving slowly and watching for your reaction, Frankie holds his hands up as he turns, keeping one in the air while the other makes a show of tugging his phone from a side pocket of his pack. He keeps the screen visible as he opens the app, then pulls his arm back in the beginning of an underhanded throw. Poised as such, he looks at you expectantly.

Now you’re almost frowning. Clearly still suspicious, but possibly fractionally less concerned about danger from a man willing to give his phone to a complete stranger in the woods. Hesitantly, you raise your hands to catch it.

Finally Frankie can make out that the thing in your hand in a canister of mace. The sight inexplicably relieves him. Pepper spray is a normal person’s defense, something that anyone might carry to help themselves feel safe. Far from the kind of weapon he would fear from someone angling for true violence.

All of this decided in the space of a second, Frankie gently tosses you his phone.

You’re so distracted by delighting in the prolific blackberry bushes which surround your pond that you don’t hear the approaching creature until it’s upon you.

You screech in shock at the massive fur-thing’s appearance, bowling you over from your crouch. It doesn’t seem bothered about wanting you to pet it, only wiggling and sniffing at you enthusiastically. You register the collar around its neck at the same you hear the shout.

“Oso!” That must be its name. “Here, girl!” The dog dashes away, then back, clearly torn about leaving her new friend so soon.

Icy adrenaline douses your system. That was a man’s voice, rough and cavernous. Who knows what kind of person he could be, no matter the earnestness of his dog? Your hands shake as you rip open your bag for the canister of mace you’ve never had to use.

There’s a pronounced rustle and then his voice sounds again, terrifyingly close. “Hey, girl, who was- no!”

Shit. The dog is back, looking at you eagerly, rear in the air and tail wagging like this is an exciting game. You have to choose a course of action quickly. Twisting the safety off the pepper spray, you rise to your feet.

His reaction is almost funny; you think you might have laughed if this was literally any other scenario. Like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, the man wrenches himself to a stop with such force his feet fly up from the ground. The contents of his bulging pack crunch against the earth, but he barely seems to notice he’s fallen, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time he cycles back to his feet.

You stare at each other.

That’s a man all right. Towering even from this distance, with wide shoulders that help the impression. His eyes are round and stunned, the cap on his head knocked slightly askew and freeing sweat-dark curls to spring around his ears.

Your first thought is that he looks warm. Not temperature warm, although the gleam of sweat on his neck confirms that, too. But approachable warm. There’s a softness to his body that belies the muscle his motions highlight, creases around his eyes that wrinkle brown like tree bark in the sun.

Then his dog noses your thigh, reminding you that you have pepper spray in your hand because you’re in the middle of the damn woods with a potentially threating stranger. You risk a half-second glance down to move the canister away from her face.

You regard the man with stony distrust, fear flushing your face and neck with heat. Confrontation makes the blood roar in your ears, but it gradually quiets as he orders the creature away from you. For several more seconds the only sound is rustling leaves.

He clears his throat. “Sorry to startle you,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

His voice doesn’t sound as harsh now that he’s not frantically shouting for his dog. Still you keep your answer short. “Me either.”

His head tilts inquisitively. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?”

That’s a fair question. He has a right to be curious too. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” The man pats her head, and the dog’s ears perk up. “I like to come out here and cook.” Wait, what? Before you have a chance to process that, he continues. “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

You won’t be deterred. “Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” If this is some elaborate murder setup, that’s not a very plausible lie.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

You’re slightly more skeptical than fearful now. You watch silently as the man turns in place, putting the side of his backpack in your line of sight so you can see him fish his phone out. He makes his actions slow and obvious. The white background of an instagram page glows on the screen as he retracts his arm in a throwing pose. Clear eyes meet yours.

What? This guy is just going to...give you his phone, no questions asked? Taken aback, you can feel the deep grooves of a frown between your eyebrows as you consider.

You’re hesitant to reveal the pepper spray, but if there’s still some possibility this is a trick, he might second-guess attacking you if he sees you’re armed. You ready yourself for a catch.

Which you accomplish, easily, his toss landing the phone right in your hands. The dog lurches forward, but this time man has a grip on her collar and she’s forced to halt with a whine.

“Sorry, girl. We’re not playing fetch right now, okay? Sit!” The man doesn’t even seem concerned with monitoring you, looking down seriously at his dog as he speaks.

You keep one eye on them as you turn your attention to the screen. Frankieintheforest, reads the username at the top of the page. Just a guy out in the woods, continues his bio. Well, that’s accurate, anyway. Frankie, huh? You spare him another glance, matching various features of him to the ones in his photos. A broad hand here, sturdy hiking boots there. Several glimpses of the same flannel that’s currently tied to the strap of his backpack. His face in a few group shots. You click on an image which shows Oso parading around a yard with a grinning toddler on her back. “Ferocious beast carries away yet another victim,” quips the caption. An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

There are too many photos going too far back for it to be fake. You turn the screen toward him. “Cute kid,” you comment. “Is she yours?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “No,” the man half laughs. “My buddy’s. I’m just the godfather.” A small smile softens his face as he takes in the picture.

Being named godfather was nothing to sneeze at. You study the man carefully, keeping your face neutral. He seems genuine, his dog keen and friendly. Dogs were a good judge of character, right? Indicative of the character of their owner? He hasn’t demanded anything from you, not done anything threatening beyond just being here.

You glance between him and the phone again. “Frankie?” you question.

He raises one hand in a wave, directing a crooked sort of smile at you. “That’s me,” Frankie confirms.

You offer him your name in return. “Uh, you can have this back now.” You gesture with the phone.

He brings his hands up to catch it, and you thank every deity you know of when your throw connects. You’re at a bit of a loss for what to do next, however. You suppose this means you’re at a truce. But you still don’t think you’d be able to let yourself focus on foraging while knowing there’s a stranger wandering so nearby.

Frankie seems to be thinking the same thing. One hand rubs over the back of his neck. “Well,” he begins. “My plans for today were to sit by this pond and cook over a fire.” He points his thumb to the right, where not far away the reflection of sunlight on water wavers against the tree trunks.

“You can join me if you want.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I’m just gonna collect some tinder and then park it, so you don’t have to worry about me interrupting your foraging or anything.”

Oso finally wriggles free of his grasp and surges forward, leaping across to you with a triumphant woof! “Oso, no!” Frankie stumbles after her, only to stop after two steps, clearly unwilling to make you uncomfortable by getting too close. He looks on helplessly, hands flexing.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. This time you offer her your free hand to sniff, which she does, before promptly shoving her head beneath it for pets. Amused, you comply. Her multi-hued fur is soft beneath your fingers.

“You’re alright, aren’t you, Oso?” You dart a self-conscious glance back up to her owner, but he appears content to let you coo at his dog.

“She’s a good judge of character,” Frankie says simply.

You swallow. Those deep brown eyes linger over you, and this is all just a bit...much. “Right. Well. I’m just going to…” you ease back, hoping to convey ‘continue going about your business.’

“Oh, sure!” He takes a little hop backward. “I’ll be...here.” His hand makes a small circling motion to indicate a limited nearby area. “You’ll hear me before you see me. Or Oso.”

Frankie frowns slightly as if something has occurred to him. “Uh, she might want to follow you around today though. I can tie her to a tree if that would bother you? I don’t usually watch her too closely,” he admits sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You realize that you mean it as your thoughts continue to form. “She’ll make for good protection if I meet any more big scary strangers.” You aim the last words down to the dog herself, sending a wry a sidelong glance to said stranger.

He chuckles again, a rasp of a sound like creaking branches. “That’s fair. But I meant it when I said I’ve never seen anyone else in this particular area. You’re pretty safe.” He punctuates his statement with a nod to the canister still in your hand, soft understanding clear in his face.

Your head ducks slightly. “Well,” you say again. ”I’ll..see you around. I guess.” You don’t wait for a farewell, turning to foist your pack back onto your shoulder. You strain your ears for any noise behind you as you flee, but there’s no sound of pursuit.

“Go ahead. Have fun, Oso,” Frankie calls, already at a distance from your quick pace. There’s a distinctly animal scurrying, and then the dog bursts into being by your side.

Your arms wheel as you jump. “Jeez, you are enormous,” you mumble, pausing to pet her again. Discreetly you look over your shoulder in time to see Frankie turn away from you, heading for your pond.

Post note: I know pepper spray is like, super illegal in the UK and other places, but it’s not abnormal to carry around in the US so just pretend it’s fine.

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle

#frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #outdoors insta frankie

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