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uwusenpaiuwu · 3 years

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Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

“Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

#mikey x male reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjirou x male reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjirou #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #manjirou sano #i tried #im so sorry #pls dont cancel me #PSA: don't masturbate in the same room as baji

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dabi-does-cocaine-fight-me · 3 years

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Hallucinations

Dabi x Shigaraki One-Shot

Warnings: So ooc, bugs, slight gore if you squint really hard, swearing, rOmAnCe, fEeLs, omg cliché

Shigaraki strolled into the League of Villains’ bar, wiping the blood off his hands with a discarded, musty towel. His gaze swept over those present in the room, hidden by the obstructing hand on his face. Toga was sitting at one end of the bar with Spinner, giggling obnoxiously at his dramatic hero imitations. Twice perched on a barstool at the opposite end of the bar, staring sullenly into the distance while puffing leisurely on a cigarette. Meanwhile, Kurogiri stood behind the counter, polishing glasses in a dutiful, restless manner, while Dabi lounged on an old moth eaten couch. Across from him, Compress made a move on the chessboard the two shared.

All of them eyed Shigaraki as he stepped further into the room, clearing his throat to get their attention. The effect was immediate. Toga and Spinner fell silent, Twice came out of his trance, and Dabi’s posture straightened slightly.

“News, Tomura?” Mr. Compress questioned. Shigaraki’s head turned in his general direction and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Different factions of the yakuza are still at war, competing for control now that they’ve removed Overhaul. One of the factions was delivering me a shipment of illegal drugs…I was expecting to use it to create more of those quirk destroying bullets, but it was intercepted by Ryukyu, Selkie and a few U.A. brats,” he reported in a bitter tone. He clearly wasn’t happy about how events had transpired.

“And all that blood on your hands, you slip and fall into Kool-Aid, boss?” Dabi snickered. Shigaraki turned to him and flexed his fingers, the unspoken threat apparent.

“How would you like to find out?” Tomura intoned quietly. Dabi scoffed, unfazed by the hostility.

“Well, you know, if you weren’t an insufferable dick and gave us straight answers…” he shrugged maladroitly. An unsteady and tense silence had fallen over the room, and everyone present was waiting to spring into action, should the need arise. Kurogiri inched closer, recalling the volatility present in the two’s previous encounters. Shigaraki and Dabi were continuing to stare at each other, Tomura’s demeanor calm and collected, Dabi’s wary yet relaxed. As they eyed each other quietly, Dabi realized Shigaraki was balancing all his weight on one leg and holding-no, more like nursing- his right arm. His gloves were absent. Tomura detected his examination and shot Dabi a nasty glare as their eyes met, daring him to say something. Kurogiri observed this interaction and decided it was time to step in, before things went any further.

“Tomura, where did all the blood come from?” he inquired, making sure to keep his tone level and to keep from sounding interrogating so as not to anger Tomura further. Shigaraki tore his gaze away from Dabi, muttering a response.

“One of the yakuza factions at war with the one I employed recognized me. Overhaul followers…one had a paralyzing quirk,” he seethed. It had hurt his pride immensely to have been surprised so easily, pinned so effortlessly, paralyzing quirk or no, and having that scarred idiot examining him only pissed him off worse. Kurogiri’s mist blew slightly, a draft from the open door causing him to dissipate and then reform as he spoke again.

“I see,” he soothed, “why don’t you go lie down, I’ll prepare you some food.”

Tomura nodded, looking rather beaten. He began to shuffle off to his room, Spinner and Twice both averting their gaze out of respect to their boss. Dabi sat thoughtfully on the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair as he rendered Compress checkmate.

A few hours later, Dabi was sauntering to his room in the evening, but as he passed Tomura’s room he heard muffled cursing. He turned around and rapped the door. The sounds quieted, and Tomura muttered gruffly for him to enter. Dabi obeyed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You okay in here?” he interrogated, already knowing the answer. Tomura was in bad shape. His food sat untouched, his laptop shut on the desk, no online gaming visible. He was sprawled on his bed, sweatshirt hood up, panting slightly.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, his face obscured by his hair in the dark of the room.

“Cut the bullshit handyman, what’s got you sitting on tacks?” Dabi shot back. Tomura huffed.

“Why the fuck would you care? Get out,” he barked. Dabi scoffed.

“No wonder no one wants to be around you. You’re so kind,” he murmured sarcastically, turning to leave. He was halfway to the door when Tomura spoke again.

“The attack….there were three people. One paralyzed me, another rendering me mute, I’m assuming those were their quirks…”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “The third?” he questioned.

“The third…didn’t move until the other two started leaving…as they walked away, he threw something at me….I flinched, so I didn’t see what it was but I felt it hit me…like…worms eating into my brain. I didn’t think anything of it, because there were no unusual effects but now I…”

He trailed off, glancing at his food before quickly turning his gaze elsewhere once more. “When I try to eat the food is all…full of maggots, and mold. When I try to patch up my injuries from the encounter, all I see is…blood. So much blood…gushing, squirting, blood. Bugs. Lots of…”

He shuddered. “In the mirror…my nails turn to beetles and crawl away…my eyebrows, spiders…worms for-for lips. My gloves…they’re rats…”

His voice broke slightly, and he stopped speaking. Dabi sighed, observing him quietly. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that Shigaraki was trembling, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was scared. The kind of fear that you know is irrational, but it’s bone-chilling anyway. He knew that fear, he felt it roll through his body, consuming his thoughts every time he heard his father’s footsteps near his bedroom door when he was a small child. Something inside him tugged at his consciousness, telling him to comfort the man in front of him. He gave into it, strolling over to Shigaraki and perching hesitantly next to him on the corner of the bed. He clenched his fist, opening it to reveal a small, flickering blue flame.

“Focus on it,” he suggested quietly, softly nudging Shigaraki with his shoulder. Shigaraki turned his head, hyper fixating on the fire, anxious for his mind to be anywhere but on the events of the day and their effects. After a while, he sighed softly.

“Thank you, Dabi,” he murmured, looking up at the raven-haired male. His shivering had eased, and he felt slightly calmer. Dabi noticed the hand wasn’t on his face, as usual, and was surprised by how red Shigaraki’s eyes were. He’d been crying, for a long while. Dabi nodded.

“Anything for you, boss man,” he replied truthfully. He may act abrasive towards Shigaraki, but there was a fondness for him, somewhere deep inside. Shigaraki had accepted him, however slowly, and had given him a place to stay, a family, somewhere he belonged. Maybe that platonic feeling of respect and devotion had turned into something else…something more serious. Seized by a sudden inexplicable urge, he tucked a small portion of Shigaraki’s hair behind his ear. The smaller male turned to him, a soft vulnerable in his eyes that Dabi had never seen before. It made Shigaraki seem…almost fragile. Dabi slid his thumb over a scar on the man’s cheek, frowning slightly. Two imperfect beings, two scarred, broken creatures, adapted to the circumstances of the cruelty they were subject to…so perfect. Almost poetic, how they were frozen together in anarchy, yet the world kept spinning on its axis around them. And they were safe. Safe from it all, because, all though unspoken, now, they had each other.

He never thought Shigaraki would be so soft, so fragile, so carefully built. He wanted to accept Shigaraki as a part of him, to take him in, take his bones, his flesh, his mind and make the two of them one. To protect him through anything and everything, always. He’d break himself to keep Shigaraki intact, he’d never let the world touch him again. When his thought process broke, he looked up, only to find Shigaraki’s face mere inches from his own. The blue haired male exhaled slightly through his lips and Dabi could feel it on his own. Unconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet them.

“Why are you such an ass to me?” Shigaraki questioned bluntly. The flame in Dabi’s palm flickered once, twice, and blew itself out.

“I’m…afraid of what I feel.” The hand that had been holding the flame came to rest on his upper thigh.

“What do you feel?” Shigaraki asked, a note of gentle yet earnest curiosity in his voice. Dabi licked his lips once more, swallowing heavily. Shigaraki seemed much too close…

“Tell me,” he whispered when Dabi failed to answer. Dabi hesitated, visibly struggling before leaning in to capture Tomura’s lips in a gentle, tender kiss. Shigaraki gasped softly, but didn’t pull away, instead lifting his hand to hold the back of Dabi’s neck, pulling him closer. Finally. Finally, they both thought. Shigaraki’s hand came up to brush the stubble on Dabi’s jaw gently, and they were no longer aware of the passage of time. The stars whirled, the sun rose and set, a million years passed, and it made no difference. Their souls merged, never to be torn apart. They pulled away as one, exhaled as one. Their gazes caught each other, holding each other in a silent embrace, one that said everything…and nothing. They never left that place, that space of eternal bliss, where for once, everything was right.

THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE I’M SO SORRY- If you like this story, drop a request for part two, and if you like my work so far, send a request in for another story!! Remember to name the characters (or if an x reader story, who you wish to be paired with) and a situation I can build on; i.e hanging out at the mall. I love all of you, regardless of whom you are and I hope you all have a wonderful October!!

#shigaraki x dabi #shigaraki tomura #dabi #touya todoroki #shigadabi #oneshot #fluff fic #I'm so proud-

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

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if fate permits

⤷ chapter nineteen: when it's too late

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YN'S POV

ATSUMU'S POV

TWO DAYS LATER...

[THE FOUR IDIOTS’ APARTMENT, 6:55PM]

Kiyoomi only watched as your eyes became melancholier, as if it were not already in the first place, the longer you stared at the screen of his phone. Probably rereading his conversation with Atsumu, he thinks. Initially, he wasn’t really planning on showing it to you but just like any other day, you decided to be the whipped soulmate (or more like an idiot, at least to him) you were, all while saying “Atsumu is important to me, should I really leave this apartment while not making amends with him?” He almost retched, is this girl really fixated on becoming a saint? How could someone be this lenient? He has no idea. And so, he showed you– that even after all this time, the piss-haired boy will remain as he is; that no matter how many years may pass, Miya Atsumu will be Miya Atsumu.

And he was the exact opposite of you: he was self-centered, conceited, prideful, juvenile, and so many more that it would take Kiyoomi more than a day to list all the things he detested from the boy. He can only remember how much he loathed the boy upon their first proper meeting; not that he likes meeting new people anyway. Kiyoomi was no genius but he knew, right at that moment, that Atsumu was far from being the ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ soulmate his dearest sister was so engrossed to have.

Kiyoomi also knew that he was not the best brother in the world; hell, he is way too far from being a good one even. He couldn’t care less if you have an admirer from afar (like that Iwaizumi who seems to be around you all the time these days), nor when you finally get yourself a suitable boyfriend, not even when you finally get wedded to someone. He wasn’t overprotective... or at least that’s what he believed. But he was only human, after all– now that he contemplates about it, he realizes that he isn’t really fond of seeing you cry.

“Stop hurting yourself over and over again, you fool of a sister,” he said, clicking his tongue afterwards and grabbing your bags after hearing your father call from downstairs, “Know your worth a little, will you? It’s kind of painful for me to watch you get hurt too, you know. It’s not just mom and dad.”

And with that, he left the room, leaving you to tend to your other belongings and perhaps, say goodbye to this little house that managed to etch itself to your heart. Compared to your childhood home, it wasn’t enough to make you sob your heart out dry. But for some reason, tears still found its way on the corner of your eyes as you remembered the fond memories you’ve made here with your boys – the moment you stumbled upon this house when you four were trying to find a place to stay, the smile on your face when you decided that this was the one (cue Atsumu literally hauling you three towards the agent to settle the down payment), the moving day when Kiyoomi and Osamu brawled for the first time in their lives because they both wanted that bedroom that was the only one downstairs, “to be away from the idiot disease” as what they said. You can only wonder if you could make new memories as happy as those in your future home.

“Ah… you really are a fool of a sister, YN,” you whispered to yourself, wiping the tears away and getting the last of your things before proceeding downstairs, finding your father standing by the front door, arms crossed with a face mask adorning his face (you never really questioned where your brother got his traits, it was as clear as the day), “Kiyoomi is already in the car but I think you should bid Osamu-kun a proper farewell first. He’s in the kitchen. We’ll be waiting so just take your time.”

You nodded before proceeding to the said area, finding the gray-haired with his arms already wide open. Your lips quivered before jumping at him, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We’ll still be seeing each other at school, you damn gorilla,” he chuckled before burying his face in your neck. You clicked your tongue, pouting at his very much realistic reply, “But it’s different! Eating breakfasts together, going to school together, going home together… and drinking wine until we’re brains out! I’m pretty sure my dad won’t let me do that at his house!”

He cackled, releasing you from his hold and flicking you on your forehead, “what an alcoholic woman! Are you sure you’re going to be a student in a prestige university abroad? You’ll be left behind by your classmates if you keep on prioritizing your wines before your studies.”

“Hah! You’ll see, Osamu. Those red wines will be the reason I even become one of the most famous writers in the world. You better wait and I’ll release an autobiography saying a man named Miya Osamu used to bully me to death,” you huffed, smirking after you saw him stare at you in disbelief. Your smile gradually disappeared upon the realization that the center of your heart was not home… even when I’m already leaving, huh?

Osamu frowned as well, scratching the back of his neck because of the sudden silence that indicated your little recognition, “I’m sorry. I told him to go home before 7 but…”

“It’s fine, Samu. We’re still not in the best terms so it’s probably better this way – a more peaceful way of farewell, you know? No fighting or anything else. Besides, I couldn’t tell him anything about my moving, scholarship, and so many things,” The lad didn’t miss the way you quickly wiped your tears away though. Damn you, Atsumu, why are you always making her cry, he thought.

“I’ll see you at school then, Samu. I’ll miss the dinners you cook,” you smiled, walking quietly outside, and shutting the front door. At the same time, a chime resonated from your phone that was in your pocket. Opening it, you released a long sigh… of relief? of anxiety? You didn’t know.

[Haji, 7:15PM]: I did it, YN. My thread, it’s… black.

You looked up at the night sky, finding stars twinkling as if they were gazing back at you.

Should I start moving on too, Haji?

[TOKYO UNIVERSITY GYMNASIUM, 7:20PM]

For the umpteenth time this week, Atsumu heaved yet another deep sigh, hands weaving itself with his hair to ruffle it out of frustration. Today, he couldn’t care less about the girls lurking around the university gym… because for the umpteenth time this week as well, his twin brother expressed his disappointment towards the boy, leaving him in the said place with the same words he had uttered yesterday and even the day before that, accompanied by a threat this time: “You’re such an immature asshole I wouldn’t be surprised if YN finally gives up on being your friend. You better come home before 7PM or else, I will drag you by your feet with my own two hands.”

Clicking his tongue, he grabbed another ball, gripping it so hard his nails almost left a dent on it. 7PM? He only scoffs. No, he won’t go home yet. He doesn’t care if Osamu gets furious at him and drags him nor if you give up on your friendship; all he thinks right now is that he wants to spike this ball straight onto the other side of the court, make it burst if it was even possible. It wasn’t his fault he got mad at you, he’s entitled to his feelings; he’s right, Kiyoomi’s mistaken… you shouldn’t have promised something you would just break in a span of less than thirty seconds. You shouldn’t hav–

But is it really her fault though? A voice in his head refuted him, or is it just because you’re really an immature asshole who can’t be happy for her?

Of course, it’s her fault, he argues. Immature? Him? He’s almost twenty-two, for god’s sake! He has been living in this world for more than two decades, how could Osamu call him underdeveloped? He swears he’s going to give his twin brother a good punch or two once he gets home.

… But she’s just trying to reach for her dreams, why are you not supporting her? She always does that when it comes to you, doesn’t she? Or have you already forgotten?

And at that, everything went perfectly still. The sound of the ball falling from his hands resonated throughout the quiet gym. Even with just hearing words from something or someone he can’t even identify, Atsumu felt as if he was hit on his head with a ton of bricks.

“E-eh…? W-why… why am I crying?” He whispered, fingers going up to touch his cheeks and furrowing his eyebrows when he felt the dampness of the said area.

Because you know you don’t deserve her. You know that it’s your fault. It has ALWAYS been your fault.

“Shut up,” he said to no one, plopping down the floor while he clutched his ears this time to shut the voice out. As it kept talking, he tried hitting his head with his hand, tried talking over it, tried retorting savage remarks back; however, everything was futile for it kept talking, kept torturing his mind with nothing but the truth.

You hurt her, then apologize, then do it again. What are you playing, a tug-of-war? How selfish of you, Miya Atsumu! Are you really her best friend?

“Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!” He screamed, his throat feeling as if it was getting scratched from the rawness of his voice. There was no way he was gonna have a voice tomorrow.

You’re so aggravated whenever you think about losing YN, are you sure you’re not in love with her or something? Yanno… have you never thought about the fact that maybe she’s your sou–

“Atsumu-kun! Wake up!” A voice yelled while grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him awake, finally bringing him out of his… dream? Was that even considered a dream? Because Atsumu was sure as hell that what happened was just plain torture to him.

“Are you okay, Atsumu-kun? You were having a nightmare,” turning to the girl who kept her hold on him, he finds Yui, who was looking back at him as if he lost the screws in his head. He starts to believe that he, in fact, did after all that weirdness. After all, who in the world would randomly just fall asleep in the middle of an empty gym then proceed to have a nightmare while on it. Surely, there would be no one except for him. How in the world did it happen anyway? As far as he could remember, he was just practicing his serves and tosses a while ago.

“Yui, why are you still here? It’s getting late,” he asks the girl whose eyes just lit up, for some reason, at his question before lifting her hand up and showing… what? She continued to smile though and waved the same hand right in front of Atsumu’s face, much to his slight annoyance. He wasn’t really in the best mood to play guessing games right now, so he only sighs exasperatedly, “Just get to the point, Yui-chan. I’m feeling the exhaustion now.”

“I told you before that I could see my thread, right? Well, it turned black! Me and my soulmate met up a while ago and turns out, he was a Moira, so we performed the mini ritual, which is so weird by the way, before cutting it. He said one of us has to ‘affirm’ their desire to cut the thread, so I did! As far as I know, based on my previous researches about soulmates, it doesn’t really matter because the ‘gods’ know the deepest desires of our hearts but you know, I don’t really care because I’m free!” She exclaimed, squealing afterwards, and flinging her arms around Atsumu’s neck to give him a hug. But the boy stayed still and gaped because how can someone afford to be happy at this situation? His arms remained motionless at his sides, confusing him; wasn’t he just itching to have this weeks ago? In fact, he was just dreaming about it about three days ago. So why? Why couldn’t he bring himself to hug her back?

“Your soulmate cut it. How can you be happy, Yui-chan….?” Before he knew it, his mouth spoke for him faster than his brain could process. He removed himself from the girl’s embrace, watching as confusion begin to form on her face; though it only took her milliseconds before an odd smile showed up on her face once more.

“Because that means I could finally date you without feeling guilty for my soulmate, silly!”

Atsumu felt like a hundred years had passed in just a single night and yet again, he sighed. If anyone sees him right now, they will probably laugh at his rather pathetic-looking state. Never in his life has he felt this exhausted, not even when Kita Shinsuke would force him to do an unreasonable number of receives and then make him clean the whole gym with the said captain; no, not even that could beat this fatigue and strangely, it makes him miss the captain.

Maybe he should’ve just gone home before 7PM, like Osamu said. He then shudders as he remembers that he still has to face his twin’s wrath.

“Can’t I just go back to being a toddler… like the brats that have no problem in the world?” He whines to himself quietly, relief spreading throughout his whole body as he sees your shared apartment; can already smell the meal Osamu cooked for you four; can visualize the disgusted look your brother will give him once he enters the house, all sweaty and gross-looking. Though, he thinks it’s odd that upon looking at the window of your room and Kiyoomi’s, he finds that they weren’t lit up unlike the usual. Maybe they’re already asleep, he shrugs given that you both love getting your beauty rest as much as you can. Twins, you are.

As careful as possible, he opens the front door, wincing when it makes a sound that would possibly wake up the very sensitive ears of Sakusa Kiyoomi from his room downstairs.

“Don’t bother trying to be quiet, Atsumu. You’re not going to wake anyone up in this house,” The voice of Osamu startles him. Fastly recovering from the mini-scare, he turns to his twin to glare while clutching his chest in hopes to calm his heart down, only to stop when he finds his brother glowering at him with a much worse scowl on his face.

“Samu, I’m sorry. I just got caught up with som–”

“You know, Tsumu, it’s kind of ironic, don’t you think? You always come around when it’s already too late,” Osamu speaks, trying to find the right words to say, “YN and Kiyoomi… they left and went back to their parents’ home. They will be staying there until YN and her mom leaves for abroad which would be in less than a month, right after this semester ends.”

Miya Atsumu was self-centered, conceited, prideful, juvenile, and so many more that it would take Kiyoomi more than a day to list all the things he detested from the boy. He didn’t care if you gave up and break off your friendship with him… at least that’s what he believed. But like Sakusa Kiyoomi, he was also human – and at that moment, as his brother stares at him and waits for a reply, he only stays still. Why is it that instead of the volleyball he was holding at the gym moments ago, it’s his heart that’s about to burst?

⤷ notes. we didn't have internet connection for a whole day and phew.. this was the result of me being bored out of my wits, i guess? and i apologize in advance for the pain that i keep on giving and WILL keep on giving :>

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #atsumu smau #iwaizumi smau #atsumu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons #miya atsumu #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 3 years

Text

The Last Chthonian

Part 17

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

A/N: It is here! So sorry for the late update lovelies! I’ve been having really bad writers block lately and my job keeps switching my hours up so now my sleep schedule is all fucked up. And after writing this part I want to go stargazing so bad but the light pollution kind of sucks where I live. 🥲 Also this is my first time writing a steamy scene so I’m sorry if it’s awkward. Feedback is much appreciated and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. 😊

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appears at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, angst, some foreplay and making out

You had still been wrapped in Zemo’s arms, the two of you indulging in each other’s presence in a silence, which combined with the faint beating of his heart, you only found to be comforting. The meteors still swept by the earth’s atmosphere above you in flashes that lit up the sky, leaving behind trails of white that resembled the strokes of a brush, as if your mother Asteria had painted the celestial bodies using diamonds onto a canvas that was the night sky. You could only make out the few stars and constellations that were scarcely scattered across the vastness above you, caused by the light pollution that unfortunately managed to mantle the wonders and beauty that settled just beyond, separating humanity from the marvels of the universe. The stars flickered like the diminishing of the flame of a candle, a farewell to the billions of years lived by the remnants of those enormous spheres of hot plasma, thus leaving behind the birth of other stars to fulfill their legacy. However, there was a certain star that did not flicker like the ones around it, a certain spectacle distant in time and space that still managed to burn bright despite the innumerable amount of light-years that separated Earth from it. The remaining light of your planet Olympus. You stared at that particular star, your brows knit together and your face etched with this certain melancholy that one could not explain. How could one thing be so near, within the reach of your fingertips, and yet be entirely outside the capacity of reach.

“Draga.” You heard Zemo softly speak, his chest slightly wavering beneath your cheek from his words.

“Hm?”

“Something troubles you.”

“What makes you say that?” You stared off, your eyes still fixated to the fading existence of your world.

“Your eyes draga.” Zemo looked down at you, his eyes scanning over the troubled creases that masked your features. “I have seen this shadow in your eyes that has seemed to occupy them as of recently. What troubles you?”

“…………You see that star there, right between those two constellations?” You pointed above you.

“Mhm.” Zemo nodded as he followed the line of your finger, his eyes now focused on the same exact star yours have not yet left.

“That’s my planet………Olympus.”

“You’re welcome to tell me about it if you’d like.”

“Well, when I was little, I used to live with my mother in this quaint cottage by the sea, similar to the one I live in now with my daughter. She used to bring me out most nights for stargazing. She had built this outdoor platform with bedding and blankets and we would have a small fire going to keep us warm as we watched the stars and constellations while she told me different tales and epic poetries. As silly as it sounds, she would make shooting stars appear in the sky for me knowing how much I loved them. Gods, I wish you could’ve seen my home back in its days, back when everything still remained. Everything was so…..beautiful, and the skies, gods the skies, you could see the different planets and galaxies as if they were only miles away. To this day, I have yet to see anything in my travels that compares.”

“I would have loved to seen it Schatzi. Your mother sounded like a wonderful person.”

“She was the kindest soul I knew.” You turned your body so that you could look up at him, resting your chin on your hand.

“You miss her.”

“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss my family and planet.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to them Schatzi. I wish you never went through what you did.”

“If only I could bring them back. I’d do anything to be able to just see them again.”

Zemo was silent, believing that no amount of words could have provided you comfort, no matter how deep the meaning or how significant. He could not imagine what you went through. He had lost his country and his family, and you had lost your family as well, but you lost your world, your entire race, leaving you to be the last remaining entity of your people, the last Olympian and the last Chthonian. Words could not bring your family back, just as they could not with his. So he only did what he was able, making a silent unspoken promise within the abyss of his damaged heart to be there for you as he held you closer to him and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

A sudden feeling of guilt crawled up your spine like a venomous scorpion ready to sink its stinger in your skin with means to cause nothing but pain and suffering. You felt guilty for being here, lying next to Zemo wrapped in his arms like a pair of star-crossed lovers from the pages of a novel. A part of you felt selfish for what you did, undeserving of the affection that was bestowed upon you from a man who had suffered enough from the loss of his family. How much longer did you think you could give in to your mindless emotions without a single thought of the consequences it might bring about. Did you really think you could go on as if nothing is happening? As if you can conceal your true form from him forever. No. You could not. You did not have the heart to keep such knowledge from him. If you wanted to pursue what you had with him, you would have to tell him the truth when the time came.

“We should probably get back before Sam and Bucky notice.” You mumbled, blinking back the tears, your heart aching to go back to the way things used to be, wishing you could leave all of this and just be able to go back home. You didn’t belong here on earth, an immortal amongst mortals. At least on Olympus, if your titaness form had been revealed, many would not have bat an eye. They had already seen the likes of Titans before and the locals had become accustomed to you. But here on earth, you were nothing but a stranger, a drifter.

The two of you walked back to his place in silence, the only sounds being the whistling of the wind, the chirping of crickets, the voices of the few pedestrians and the humming of the cars that drove by. Your hands brushed against each other, craving to intertwine your fingers with his as you walked down the stone paved streets lit by the lamps that lined it, the two of you still withdrawn despite what occurred between you both. You felt it would have been silly, holding his hand like a couple of teenagers, though a century ago, you wouldn’t have gave it a second thought.

You arrived at his place, standing at the bottom of the steps in front of the double doors with Zemo opposite you, illuminated by the street lamp that stood just behind. Feelings of conflict washed over you, drowning you in waves of despair. As much as you wanted to be with him, a small part in the back of your mind kept telling you that it was wrong. Neither of you wanted to go through those doors just yet, wishing you could have spent the night under the stars. But life seems to have a way of working against your favor. The Wakandans would be here to collect him possibly tomorrow, and you would have to bid him farewell, separated from each other for what could be forever. As much as you did not look forward to that moment in having to turn him in and never see him again, you wouldn’t stop the Wakandans from what they were promised. And though you hadn’t said a word, Zemo had already knew what your decisions were regarding it, and he could not blame you for it. You were a woman of justice and you followed a code, and he respected that.

“Zemo.” A frown appeared on your face.

“Please,” Zemo whispered to you as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Call me Helmut.”

You looked at Zemo once more, a look of longing hidden behind your eyes as you unconsciously swiped your tongue across your mouth, watching how his eyes followed the movement before lingering on the wetness of your lips that resembled the petals of a rose after the pouring of cold rain in the midst of spring. Oh how he wished to be the drops of rain that were gifted the pleasure of grazing upon the velvety petals that belonged to such beauty of a flower, a symbol of union between the two domains in which the heavens came down to declare its love for the earth. A pulling sensation filled within your core, drawing yourself to Zemo as if he were the sweet berries of deadly nightshade that have lured many unfortunate souls. Banishing the thoughts of doubt that clouded your mind, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to you, crashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Zemo was initially shocked by your bold gesture and stiffened from the way your mouth moved against his, surprised you would pull something like this when just a wall away Sam and Bucky were awaiting your arrival, before loosing himself into your embrace.

Your fingers clenched the collar of his sweater and your fingers grazed across the exposed skin of his neck while his hands went to your waist in a desperate attempt, fumbling to grab at anything and bunching up the bottom fabric of your sweater as he pulled you against him. The tips of his fingers brushed against the skin of your waist that was exposed below the hem of your sweater, leaving behind goosebumps in its trail. You smiled into the kiss from the way he completely melted under your touch, a part of you amused from the affect you held over him as you managed to elicit a moan from deep within his throat. Zemo’s brows were furrowed in the passionate moment, something you have noticed when you first kissed him, a small crease in the muscles of his face that showed just how lost he was when encased in this moment with you, and it absolutely melted you. He was addicted from the warm numbness, the ecstasy he felt from kissing you. Your lips were like heroin to him, leaving him yearning for more, and it didn’t ameliorate the fact that his years spent in a German prison had left him somewhat inexperienced and filled with a chasmic longing for touch and intimacy from the lack thereof. Deep within him, masked by his ideas and objectives, Zemo wanted to be able to love someone again, a chance at a new life and a family, and perhaps, he saw that possibility with you. But, behind the passion of the kiss you shared with him, there was something else, a poison that laced your lips with feelings of despair and forbidding that consumed you as if you had tasted those sweet berries of nightshade, slowly loosing yourself to its malice. His lips which were at first warm to the touch, now felt cold like ice and sent shivers of dread through your veins, as if this would be the last kiss you shared with him.

You pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, your teeth softly grazing against his bottom lip as you did so. Both of you were left breathless as you rested your foreheads against each other, panting as your breaths fanned each other’s face as if you had just been trapped in the depths of the ocean before breaking through the surface to allow oxygen to fill your lungs.

“If you keep doing that Draga.” Zemo rasped between breaths, “I won’t be able to compose myself.”

“Good. Maybe I don’t want you too.” You smirked before placing a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. “But I really should go back inside, and you should do the same. Just make sure you go unnoticed.” You slipped his coat off your shoulders, his cologne that lingered on his fur collar leaving your senses with discontent as you returned his coat to him before going over to the doors, stopping to turn back to him with a smile before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. Gods, what the hell did you do that for???? You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you wanted to slap yourself for pulling a move like that.

“Gods I’m stupid.” You muttered to yourself.

“Hey.” Bucky smiled once he spotted you, his voice soft as if he were afraid you would shatter at any moment from the discussion that took place earlier. “How was your walk?”

“It was nice, relaxing. I went to the park to stargaze.”

“That’s good. As long as you feel better.”

“I do, actually. Thanks Bucky.”

“You look flushed. You okay?” Sam noted as he stepped over to you.

“Huh?” You stopped short. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just had to kind of uh power walk back here so you guys wouldn’t get worried. But I’m fine, yeah. Anyways, I’m going to hit the sack since I’m feeling a bit tired. Goodnight you guys.” You waved them off before going to your assigned room, making Sam and Bucky give each other questioning looks before they both shrugged it off.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a breath of relief that they had not caught on to anything and praying that Zemo had managed to sneak in. You had just gotten off the phone with Maze and your daughter, catching up on their activities after cleaning yourself up and changing into your nightgown. You had pulled up a chair next to the window that was in your room, your feet tucked underneath you and a warm cup of rose and blackberry tea in your hands. Your robe hung loosely off your shoulders as your index finger twirled above the small silver spoon that swirled in your cup, mists of violet wrapping around the handle of the spoon as you used your powers to stir the contents of the tea. You stared out the window onto the old streets of Latvia before glancing down at the teacup that was nestled in your hands, the glow of your eyes reflected off the window pane along with the tiny stars that swirled through the small globe of your necklace your mother gave you. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the moments that passed and the ones that have yet to come.

There was a knock on your door, interrupting you from the thoughts that had resided in your mind. “Come in.” You spoke as you looked through the reflection of the window and saw a figure step in. “Zemo?” You stopped using your powers, the clinking of the spoon scraping against the sides of the porcelain cup coming to a stop. “You know, you gotta stop sneaking into my room.” You teased before frowning, seeing the expression that sat on his face. “What’s wrong?” You got up from the chair, setting your cup down on the table before walking over to him.

“The Wakandans will…….be here for me tomorrow.” His eyes were lowered to the floor, the browns of his irises which reminded you of the dunes of the Sahara desert were whirling in thought, resembling the dunes caught in the midst of the fury of a sandstorm, as if searching for an answer to his troubles.

“Ze-Helmut, I………” You sighed, your tongue and mind lacking the ability to compose any words that might have provided some solace. “I’m sorry………..I don’t know what to say.”

“Y/n, schatzi” Zemo grabbed your hand, tracing his thumb over the bumps of your knuckles. “You don’t have to say a word. My actions………must be accounted for.”

You were silent, your brows knit together and your lips sealed as if your voice was ripped from your throat. Your heart wanted to tear itself from your chest, begging to be released from its cage so that it could be free to lament, so that it may be able to express the words that held it captive. But your tongue was tied, held back between the prison that was your teeth as you clenched your jaw. Zemo’s hand still held yours, stroking the soft skin on the back of your hand which were a contrast to the small rough patches on your palm, before you heard him speak again. “Can I kiss you?”

You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise that he would even ask such a question when you were honestly willing to kiss him any time of the day. The Zemo you had come to know was far different than the one you had heard about, his cold demeanor seemed to completely fade when he was around you, like a fog that dissipated with the coming of daylight. A part of you pondered whether this was how he used to be, before the events that happened. Though he hadn’t had a chance to share such affection with anyone and lost practice, you still found him to be great kisser and it always managed to leave you breathless. “Yes, please.” You whispered, your voice barely audible before you felt his lips brush against yours. What was sweet at first became more feverish and filled with hunger as an unfamiliar spirit seemed to possess your body, darkening the amethysts and golds of your eyes that resembled the galaxies, into the blackness of the abyss that swallowed the outer edges of space where not even the slightest bit of light could reach, almost as if you were sinking your claws into your prey.

A heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, filling your body with an electrifying warmth as his mouth moved against yours more confidently this time, catching you utterly by surprise and leaving your knees weak, a feeling similar to the stillness in the air a mere second before lightning strikes the ground beneath your feet. His hands slipped down to grab the flesh of your waist, dehydrated, and filled with an intense thirst that could only be quenched by your body that was the ocean, your skin separated by the silk fabric of your nightgown. Your hands went up to grip his shoulders as a gasp escaped your lips upon feeling him move down to your jaw and neck. Gods, since when was the last time you were touched like that?

“Helmut.” You rasped, struggling to hold back a moan as his lips sucked on the skin where your collarbone met your neck, making you lean your head back to allow him better access. Your robe had fell to the floor, leaving your arms completely bare while Zemo’s hands caressed the skin that lined them before resting on the dorsal part of your upper arms, the combination of the frigid air and his fingertips that felt like the touch of fire sending shivers through your body. “What if they hear?”

“Let them.”

“No……….I’m…….serious.”

“Well if you’re that worried Draga.” Zemo stopped to look at you. “The walls are thick enough.”

Gods that completely sent you over the edge. It felt as if you were on a high, your mind was not even within this dimension as Zemo met your lips again. You had to throw your arms around his neck to keep yourself from collapsing as the two of you shifted in the room, Zemo guiding your body before the back of your knees came in contact with the side of your bed. You let yourself fall back into the soft mattress, bringing Zemo down with you. You both were a mess, your hair disarray, the thin straps of your nightgown fallen past your shoulders had almost left your breasts exposed, and the skirt of your nightgown had ridden up to your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Zemo squeezed at the soft flesh of your thigh before attacking your neck again. He didn’t know how to describe it but you tasted absolutely divine. Perhaps being a goddess made you taste of ambrosia; the golden, honey-flavored fruit that grew on the trees of Olympus. You were in absolute bliss and thanked the gods he wouldn’t be able to leave a mark, at least you hoped not.

“Helmut.” You moaned, your nails digging into his biceps as his warm lips made a trail down your collarbone and lower to where the lace trim of your nightgown met just above the curve of your breasts, lingering on the space between, filling your mind with thoughts of a certain region you desired those lips to be. “Fuck.” You hissed from the contact, your hand moving its way to his head as you ran your fingers through his soft hair, your nails raking across the back of his scalp as the heat between your thighs only grew. You unconsciously pressed your heel to the lower part of his back, beckoning him closer to that heat between your thighs as you bucked your hips up. Zemo growled at the movement, slightly nipping at the skin where your breast had started to form, causing you to gasp and your eyes to fly open from the sensation.

“Apologies draga.” You heard him mutter before tenderly kissing the spot where his teeth had been.

Seeing Zemo in a close proximity above you in such a position had you dazed, wanting him to take you right then and there and not caring if the others heard you or not. And as your eyes wandered lazily over the sight of him, they widened in horror once they glimpsed at the image of your hands. Your nails became sharp, claw-like, and that deathly color had returned once again, slowly making its way up your arm like the tendrils of a shadow belonging to a demonic spirit.

“Helmut.” You whispered, your voice becoming panicked as you loosened your grip on his arms, being careful not to pierce his skin. “Helmut wait.”

Zemo stopped, pushing himself up to meet your eyes as his concern grew from seeing the frightened look that filled them. “Schatzi, what’s wrong?” He brought his hand up to your face, brushing away the strands of your hair. “If you’re uncomfortable let me know.”

“No, gods no. If anything I don’t want you to stop.” You breathed out, trying to catch your breath. “It’s just that………….”

“What is it schatzi?” His voice was soft as his fingers caressed your cheek, afraid that he might have offended you in some way, afraid that he might have been too forward.

“I’m sorry Helmut. I want to, I really do, but not like this.” You shook your head as you got up, shifting over to where the dark shadows of the room fell on the bed to hide your arms, afraid to meet his eyes as if you had made a fool of yourself. “Not like this.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me y/n.” Zemo smiled at you. “If you’re not ready, than I’m not ready.”

“Thank you Helmut.” You smiled back before giving him a delicate kiss. “I’d………uh like to think some things through.” You prayed that he didn’t see your hands, hoping that the darkness of the room managed to disguise it.

“Of course draga.” Zemo placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before leaving your room, stopping at the door to give you a comforting smile as he carefully shut it behind him.

Your eyes still lingered on the door, waiting to make sure he didn’t come back before turning on the bedside lamp and staring down at your hands. You had managed to stop the color from spreading up your arm, yet it strangely still remained, stopping halfway up your forearm. This wasn’t good.

“What the hell?” You scrunched your nose, trying to use your powers once again to remove it but to no avail. Fear coursed through your veins as you attempted to remove the color, spell after spell, hoping those vine like tendrils would crawl back down your hands and disappear. You cursed under your breath as each attempt proved to be as futile as the one before. What the hell was going on? Why were your spells not working? It vanished before from your magic, why wasn’t it doing so now? You were struck with a sudden realization that perhaps this change would become permanent, that maybe suppressing your true form for all those years had caused it to spiral out of control and in turn try to overpower you as if it had a mind of its own. You growled through gritted teeth, the furniture around you shaking as your fists were clenched in frustration, the violet mists of your powers encompassing your hands and sparking with small bolts that corresponded with the vexation that overwhelmed you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the mist around your hands disappearing and the shaking of the furniture coming to a stop. You had to work something out. You were left no choice but to keep your hands covered from now on until you found a solution. If any of them questioned it, you had to have a damn good lie. Getting up from the bed, you walked over to the double doors that led to the small balcony and opened them, your hands gripping the cold iron rail as you stared out at the view of the Latvian streets and buildings before you. Oh how you wished your sister Athena were here. She knew everything.

“Oh Athena.” You stifled a sob as you stared up at the stars, focusing on the light of your planet as if she could have heard you, a tear cascading down your cheek and dropping to the streets below. “Gods I wish you were here. I really need your help.”

Despite your pleas, you knew she wasn’t there, her existence only an artifact of the past. You were praying to nothing but a memory. It was extremely urgent that you got information on this matter of your form and the words of the prophecy that still threatened and echoed within the depths of your mind. And since you couldn’t obtain such knowledge from another Olympian, you would have to gather it from the old texts. Muttering a few words in Ancient Greek, you waited, searching, until a small white moth came into view, fluttering in your direction. You held out your finger, letting the tiny creature come to rest upon it.

“Hello little one.” You smiled at the moth as you gently stroked it in greeting, bringing it closer to your face so that you could speak to it in your language. “Please send word to my familiar and tell him to gather as much information he can on Titans and the prophecy. And tell him to come find me when he is done. Thank you.” The moth looked at you with understanding behind his tiny black eyes, it’s antennaes twitching before fluttering away into the moon. You sighed, watching it disappear into the night before giving your distant planet one last glance before shutting the doors and going back over to the bed. You laid down under the covers, your hands rested on your stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, dreading the day to come. How could you face Zemo? And however were you going to keep your hands a secret? Surely the three are bound to find out sooner or later? You just prayed that the message you sent would be returned in a short time. You needed to fix this before it would be considered too late. And the sooner you found Karli the better. Your mind was racing with thoughts, but you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest and forcing those thoughts away. Gods help you from this moment on.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thehornyles @awhorewithissues @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @Gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail @pollynx @aziraslowlylosestheirshit @roundbrownlover @awesomeowlbook @bookloverfilmoholic @hargreevesd @death-is-beautiful @ilovespideyyy @peakyrogers

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Earth is Space Australia, “Storm.”

I think some of you requested something similar a while ago, but I could be wrong. It is a view of humanity from a different species, so I hope you all like it :)

She stared out the viewing window fixated upon the little blue planet with its swirling patterns of cloud cover. It looked peaceful from where she stood, a tranquil drop of blue against the blackness of space, but of course she knew better, this was Earth, and Earth was as volatile a planet more than any she had visited. She had been putting this off for a long time, but as the GA chairwoman, she was obligated to visit the planet of every member of the GA at some point.

She continued to watch as they moved slowly into orbit, the planet growing larger and larger before her showing off its bright brown and green landmasses squished between vast oceans of blue. She shivered thinking about all that water.

The RUndi, coming form a desert planet, had developed ways of living without water-- at least without it directly--if it came in contact with her skin it could cause burns or rashes depending on the concentration.

Admiral Vir had been polite enough to reduce the humidity on his ship, which was preferred by humans, to almost zero for her benefit, but it all scared her badly. There was water everywhere on this ship, kitchen, bathrooms, even speaking to the humans, she was looking into their saline lubricated eyes.

Boots echoed on the floor behind her, and she turned her head to find Admiral Vir stepping up beside her. He was wearing surgical gloves and a mask for her benefit, as humans also tended to shed water from their skin -- not as badly as a groom but still.

“Chairwoman, the shuttle is ready.”

She nodded nervously and followed him up and down the hall watching the human move. There were plenty of bipedal creatures in the GA, but there was something about the way humans did it that just seemed to change things. Of course she could run on two legs, but balance was easy to keep at speed, the rest of the time she used her long front arms to walk on the ground keeping contact with her knuckles They made their way into the docking bay, where a group of humans was waiting for her geared up in their face masks and gloves.

They approached her with a specially made suit.

“What is this?”

“Hazmat suit, ma’am, base says its sunny right now, but it is humid. Not enough to hurt you but the rash would be unpleasant. We advise that you wear this until we get inside.”

She nodded and did as told as Admiral Vir stood by, “We would have flown you into Alexandria but this week of all weeks it decided to rain, so we will bringing you to fort harmony where UNSC has its main headquarters.”

The plastic of the suit felt very strange on her skin as it was zipped up her front.

Admiral Vir helped her pull on a pair of gloves, and then pulled out a roll of duct tape sealing off the end of her sleeves and wrists, doing the same with her feet.

A hood was pulled up around her head, before she was provided with a face shield.

The precautions made her nervous, but she didn’t have much time to think about it as she was ushered onto the shuttle.

She was assured that Admiral vir was one of the best pilots in the galaxy, but she still held hard to her seat as they roared into the atmosphere jostling this way and that in the upper atmosphere. To be honest she did expect their descent to be more violent, and was impressed with the Admiral.

She stared out the window watching as little white clouds billowed past.

Off to their right she could see that massive body of water lapping at the shore as if trying to get in.

She shivered as the shuttle lowered slowly touching down onto a massive tarmac not far away from one of the main buildings. The sky outside was bright and not a cloud lay in sight. A group of men and women waited outside.

The door was opened for her and she was ushered outside onto a tarp which was covered by a line of canopies.

A human she recognized as the GA representative and the UN president walked up along with another human with stars on their sleeves and nodded to her one of them even bowing slightly, “A pleasure to welcome you to earth, Chairwoman.” They said as she stepped outside.

She could feel the heat through her suit, and it felt nice. She was used to the heat.

Looking around nervously, she wasn't entirely sure if she should have been worried. Other than the sky being blue and the ground being green, the planet looked completely normal and not all that malicious.

Admiral Vir stepped into stride beside her as they made their way towards one of the buildings.

They were just passing over another set of tarps about ten feet away from the green ground when there was a sharp hiss and little black spouts shot up out of the ground. She turned yelping just in time to watch as streams of water began sprouting from the nozzles.

One of the humans laughed, “Sorry Chairwoman, I should have thought to turn off the sprinkler system.”

“Sprinkler system.” “The grass needs water too.”

Swallowing hard she was led inside the building, nd through two sets of double doors. It was almost freezing cold inside and she wrapped her arms around herself uncomfortably until she was led down the hallway and into another room. This room was hot and dry, and she was finally able to relax and pull of her face shield

More humans approached and nodded or bowed to her, “A pleasure, chairwoman. We are sorry you couldn’t see more of our planet, but circumstances permitting it might be best if you remain here.”

She couldn't help but agreeing.

Instead they opted for a virtual tour put together by images from their satellites and cars with cameras. On the big screen before her she was able to see towering mountains and sandy desserts-- with orange instead of blue sand which was so alien and strange-- not to mention great feats of human architecture. The crumbling remains of the colosseum, the rebuilt library at Alexandria, cathedrals, and carvings, and statues. IT was quite awe inspiring. The humans had far more cultural tradition, and history than she could have thought possible for such a young species.

When given the history of their wars she was stunned at such a history of violence, which could rival only that of the Drev, and certainly rivaled it in their brutality. How they had used nuclear power to destroy civilian populations, how they had used gas that burned the eyes and the lugs, weapons that could cycle deadly rounds at hundreds of bullets per minute, explosives. They even trained other animals to attack their fellow humans. If there was a way to inflict pain on another, the humans had discovered and protected it.

In all of human history this was the first time they had ever been united as a world, and that was only after the Pan-Asian war which had happened during some of these human’s lifetimes.

Admiral Vir admitted that his father had fight in the war, though it was over before he was born.

Looking up at the images of destruction and carnage painted by artisans long past she couldn't help but shake her head. Admiral vir stepped up beside her, “i am lucky…. I grew up in a world that wasn’t at war, a world that was united under one banner. It is the first time in human history where no one has had to live in the shadow of war.

She shook her head bemused and in shock. She had always thought the humans were a bit like the rundy. She knew they had a centralized system of government, but she had never considered it to be so young. He turned to look at her sadly, “I do not expect it to last long.”

With his ominous words, he stepped to the side and she looked to watch him go.

It was a sudden commotion at the far end of the room that got her attention, and she wandered over to where the humans were gathering their voices nervous.

“What is going on?”

The humans turned the looks on their faces rather guilty.

Finally Admiral Vir was the first to speak up, “It seems chairwoman, that earth has decided to have unseasonal weather patterns, and ones that are forming quickly. A tropical storm that was predicted to stay out at sea has moved up the cost and is heading towards us.”

“We have to get the chairwoman out of here,” one of the humans announced, and she couldn’t help but agree.

Admiral Vir nodded and motioned her to follow as she put on her facemask.

They made their way down the hall and the door was open. Past him she could see a gathering set of massive black clouds. It was like nothing she had ever seen the wall of clouds so high that they flattened out at the top as if they had reached the ceiling of their height. Admiral Vir stepped out onto the tarmac, and just as he did there was a sharp gust of wind so powerful that it ripped one of the canopies loose.

Admiral vir was obscured for a second as the canopy ripped past,and when it was gone he was on the ground holding up his hand against the wind. A few others rushed out to help him.

“Get the chairwoman back inside.” He ordered walking back into the hallway and looking down at his upper arm.

His uniform had been sliced open on the bicep, and a thin line of red was just visible.

She was scared now.

Two men shut the doors, tugging against an aggressive wind as the other canopies were tugged from the ground.

As she watched, the ground suddenly began sprouting little black spots. She had no idea what it was for the longest time, until her brain finally caught up with what her eyes were seeing.

It was raining.

In horror she stepped back from the door.

It had rained once on the capital city in Irus in living memory. Corpses had lined the street in the dozens and so it had been named. The day of the falling.

Admiral Vir rested his gloved hand on her shoulder, “We should get you further inside.” He suggested

“Your arm?”

“I’m alright. I got unlucky and it caught me by an edge.”

The wind was kicking up even more and she swore she could almost hear it. By the time they had made it back to the safe room, she watched in horror as sheets of rain came thundering down from above. Great puddles and rivulets were beginning to form on the ground running down the streets like rivers.

The humans themselves seemed fine, unless they looked at her, in which cases they seemed very worried. She cowered in a corner watching great pooling of water pour from the sky and rush down the windows.

Admiral Vir came to sit next to her, his arm having been treated.

The rain seemed to go on forever battering against the window as the wind tossed it closer. The sound was thunderous, and roaring.

Admiral Vir was doing his best to keep her calm and had produced a deck of cards from what seemed like nowhere. He was teaching her how to play a game the humans called golf and had even invited some of the other humans over to join in. It was mostly a game of chance though there was some strategy required. She lost the first round but was pleased to make it through the second with the least amount of points

It was just then that the entire room was lit up b a horrendous flash of light and a sudden eruption that seemed to rend the walls. She screamed and the lights around them went out. The ground below her shook and in stunned desperation she reached out to make sure she was still alive.

Rundi have poor night vision, and the room appeared very dark, only silhouettes against the pale grey light filtering in from outside.

“What was that!” she squealed.

There was a click, and a flash of light lit up a circle around her. She could see the Admiral’s face lit by under beams of light, “Lightning strike must have taken out the power.”

“Lightning, you mean this is an electrical storm.”

“It’s the east coast, Ma’am it's always an electrical storm. Nothing to worry about though, the backup generators should be kicking on soon.”

Even as he said those words the lights overhead flickered on though they were somewhat dimmer than before. Rain still thrashed the window outside.”

“You grew up like this.” She said incredulously cowering back against the wall.

Admiral Vir shook his head, ‘No ma’am. I’m From central Mericanda, we get earthquakes and blizzards that stack snow in up to six foot drifts.”

“Snow?” She asked having heard the word at one point but forgetting what it meant.

“Frozen water, it falls from the sky in crystal flakes all fluffy, but it is very cold and it can kill you if you aren't careful.

She shook her head incredulous.

“Death Valley or the Sahara might have been a better option I am thinking.” Admiral Vir said, and the others nodded in agreement.

They sat in the dimness for a little longer listening to the rain and the lightning, and she was sort of beginning to relax with the realization that the storm was outside, when another loud noise jarred her from her peace.

IT was loud, very loud, a wailing which rose in pitch, then dropped back down and rose again. Lights flashed overhead.

Admiral Vir lifted his head as did the others, and the looks on their faces scared her more than anything had yet that day.

The humans were frightened.

“What is that!”

Admiral Vir turned to look at her, “It's a Tornado Siren.”

All along the walls she watched in wide-eyed shock as great metal shutters clamped down over the windows, blocking her view of the outside. The lights dimmed even further.

“We have to get the chairwoman to the bunker.” Admiral Vir was saying

“A tornado? What is a Tornado?”

Admiral vir caught her by the hand and led her towards the hallway, “We have to go.”

“Admiral!”

He kept going dragging her out into the hall where metal shutters were continuing to slam shut. The sound of the rain grew in intensity until it was almost deafening as if large rocks were being showered down on them.

“Hail.” The man said

“Hail?”

“Chunks of ice falling from the sky.”

“What!”

The entire building seemed to shake around them as groups of men and woman ran up and down the halls vanishing into interior rooms and charging down stairs into the basement.

They moved along the hall for a little while when she heard the wind kick up.

Evidently the Admiral did too as he dragged her into another interior room, which turned out to be a some sort of closet.

He pushed her down onto the floor.

“Cover your head.” He ordered.

She did as told covering her head as he tipped objects from the shelves and onto the floor, pulling the shelves off as he did. Soon there was nothing over their heads at all. She pressed into the corner and he knelt in front of her one green eye wide in concern.

“You never told me what a tornado was.”

He grimaced, “it is a spiraling vortex of wind that can reach up to 300 miles per hour. They can be many yards wide and reach up into the clouds. They are capable of ripping buildings in half.”

She went very quiet, and outside the wind intensified.

The building around them began to shake.

In that moment she watched as the human leaned over her, bracing his arms against the wall and covering his head, but using as much of his body as possible to protect her, like a human shield of bone and flesh.

Something shattered and there was a loud cracking noise as metal slammed against metal.

The building shook even more violently.

Fear rose up inside her the likes of which she had never seen.

Overhead the ceiling tiles began to fall breaking across the human’s back and erupting into pisces on the floor.

She could see the exposed wiring past the space between the human’s arms.

A roaring echoed through the hallway, and more tiles fell from above. The human hunched closer until she couldn’t see anything past his body and the glittering metals on the breast of his uniform.

This went on for several log minutes. Long minutes in which she was sure she would perish.

But then, all went suddenly quiet.

It was an eerie quiet and for the longest time she wasn’t sure what had gone on, and then the admiral backed up, shaking dust from his hair.

When he stood, she could see another small spot of blood high on one of his shoulders.

He had…. Protected her, from that.

He smiled, “Sounds like it’s over.”

Outside in the hall she could hear others moving around, and standing behind him she walked out into the hall running into the UN president who looked rather frazzled.

The entire hallway was dotted with tiles fallen from the ceiling, and one of the metal shields seemed rather ent, but the building didn’t look much the worse for ware.

“Did it hit us?” Admiral vir wondered.

“Yeah it hit the south west corner and then skirted up and around.”

“Any casualties.”

“No, everyone was safe inside and the storm shutters held as planned.”

She turned to look at the chairwoman, “Once upon a time that might have been a lot worse than it was, but our technology is improving every year.”

The Chairwoman shook her head in awe not sure what to say.

One thing was for sure though, she wanted off this planet. She understood humans better than she ever had at this moment. She knew why they were so tough, brave and fearless. Any creature that had to live their lives fighting against their own planet for survival was best kept on the GA side.

She glanced up at Admiral Vir, who was wiping blood from behind one ear.

Brave.

Risking his own life like that to protect her.

What a species.

What a planet.

She didn’t want to visit ever again.

#earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird

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20thcentury-kylo · 3 years

Text

Tides Of Memory Chapter 2

Surprise!! Wanted to have this up yesterday but things sorta got out of hand, and tbh after this I'll be kind of busy so I atleast wanted to finish this one- anywho Enjoy

A wild flower hill overlooks the calm sea at dusk. The sky’s color fades into a midnight blue as the moon and stars peak from the clouds. Ebisu sits among the wild life- Guitar in hand as he hums a simple tune.

“Just breathe… just breathe- it’ll all be fine~” Soft strums from the instrument follow in simplistic patterns. As he gazes up to the stars above he feels no words could better fit the moment. Amongst the chaos of interstellar wars and the literal end of the world- a scene like this- it’s peace.. He could believe that it would all be fine. Kiome had already gone back- most likely to keep Ebisu from seeing him break down completely, but Ebisu knew.. He could feel it in his soul- the scared tremors, the subtle shaking in his hands. The rose haired musician swore he’d be strong for the both of them, he wouldn't make Kiome face this alone, he didn't have to be alone, not anymore.

“Maybe it's the question.. Maybe it's the answer~”

The quaking roars were gone, but Kiome was nowhere to be found. He promised to stay away but as Ebisu runs through the ravaged battlefield the only thought coursing through his mind is finding the chubby swordsman.

“Kiome!!” He pleads out their name gaining no response. With every step he takes, dread seems to fill him more and more.

“Just breathe.. It'll all be fine~”

The blood won't stop pooling between his hands, the tears in his eyes won't either. In the midst of it all he somehow finds the strength to laugh.. How unfair it all was. His beloved laid there dying in his arms and yet here Kiome was… singing to him. How unfair the world could be. The last thing he sees before the light envelopes them is the pained smile on his face, as he whispers it one last time

“Darling… i love you~”

Ebisu is a 17 year old boy living in the Nakano ward in Tokyo with his adoptive guardian. He loves tales of the sea, of lost treasure and one day hopes to venture out there on his own, to maybe find his own lost fortune. Ebisu has the strangest dreams filled with even stranger people, and fleeting whispers of feelings that leave dull aches in his heart.. The words always echo in his mind and he can't seem to explain the tears in his eyes as he wakes. It was all so… confusing, and yet when their eyes met… when their eyes met suddenly the distant haze seemed to be clearing.

They're such a soft shade of amber- so warm so… familiar. The feeling that follows is so intense that he can't stop the stream of tears that follow soon after. The boy in front of him winces- bringing a hand to graze his forehead, yet never breaks eye contact.

“I-i’m sorry, are ya okay?” Ebisu tries his best to compose himself- stifling the tears long enough to pick himself up off the ground.

“Dont worry ive been through worse.” whatever was ailing him seems to have subsided and yet- they stay there, gazing at one another in a tense silence. The boy eventually begins to speak when he’s caught off by a shout from the distance.

“Hey! That creep snatched My wallet!” The cries of a knocked down pedestrian follow as the therian sprints away. Instinctively Ebisu checks his pockets to find his own wallet missing.

“That little sneak-” The fisherman prepares to apprehend the transient- brandishing his signature fishing rod and hook. Yet before he can even start the backswing- the stranger he’d just met is already dashing towards the thief.

“Oh no ya dont!!” Before Ebisu can blink the apparent swordsman is already flying at the transient- his still sheathed sword arced forwards. The encounter is over in seconds with the captured therian pleading apologies as he scurried off. He’d been so stunned at the boy's ability that he hadn’t noticed the small faded blue wallet being shoved in this direction.

“You dropped this..” Their hands brush slightly as he takes the wallet- and Ebisu’s mind fixates on the fleeting warmth. He wants to thank him sincerely, yet the blush flooding his cheeks keeps his eyes averted choosing instead to focus on his newly re-acquired wallet.

“I um- I never got your name~” Ebisu manages to stutter out- still refusing to meet eyes with the mysterious swordsman.

“HEY!!” The recognized shouts of none other than Nankano’s resident viral sensation, Benten. She practically flies at them, her phone camera trained on the chubby swordsman.

“Kiome! Didn’t expect to see you ‘round here, especially pulling off moves like that~” In the midst of her excited rambling he hears the name…

“Kiome…” It’s almost scary how naturally the name rolls off his tongue. Ebisu finds himself unable to control the smile that sneaks its way onto his face.

“Ebisu- you manage to find anyone for your little adventure, I’m still rarin to go of course~” The sudden reminder of his previous endeavor has him more embarrassed than he honestly should be.

“Ebisu huh.. Well If it's adventurers you need- you’ve just found the right guy.” Kiome expresses with a subtle wink. The nervous giggle that erupts from the rose haired boy resembles more of a shy highschool girl rather than a trained fisherman. Ebisu escorts the 3 of them back to the restaurant he helps run. For once he was thankful for Benten’s presence, having her between them with her excited chatter was perfect for keeping him distracted. Even so he couldn't help but sneak a passing glance at the chubby swordsman when he got the chance.

They sit down discussing the plans over some tea, and while Ebisu, and Benten fall into their usual banter- Kiome is reminded of the warnings his friends gave earlier

“Yeah, I've been hearing a lot of those recently as well, though in the end- it doesn’t change what we hafta do.” Benten’s proud declaration earning a chuckle.

“Actually, I looked into those before- judging from the location of where these pirate ships were being sunk, it’s most likely they were confronted with mermaids; the Daughters of The Waves-” Ebisu informs them. From what he’d gathered- the mermaids were likely guarding the treasure. As he keeps explaining- Kiome gets that same unsettling feeling from before- this wouldn’t be some light adventure… This was serious. By the time they’d finished the three of them settled on a plan; Benten was in charge of finding a crew- people strong enough to stand against the apparent threat that awaited them, a crew that now included Kiome, and Ebisu would handle getting the ship, supplies, and salvage equipment ready which from the sounds of it- he was already on top of. Benten had parted ways at the shop's entrance, eager to begin her search- leaving the two boys alone, Ebisu having offered to walk Kiome back to the station. So as they strolled side by side- Ebisu decides to break the silence.

“Y’know this may sound weird but- I have the strangest feeling… that we’ve met before, somewhere.” His words cause Kiome to turn with a pondering expression, he had no memories of a past life, but somehow he held the same feeling.

“It’s weird but… I know what you mean~” From there they fall into light conversation, a simple game of 20 questions passes between them yet both still held the strange possibility in the back of their minds. Before they knew it the train's electronic whistle was heard from afar.

“Guess the fun's over for now huh~” Kiome’s words followed by a breathless sigh.

“Yeah heheh , i guess so..” The pearl eyed boy parrots back. Kiome turns to him, suddenly unsure of what to do. A hug?, just a handshake? To keep himself from dallying he settled on the latter, extending a hand out to his escort.

“Nice meetin’ ya-' ' Ebisu stares a bit in awe at his hand for a moment before slowly reaching back with a hand of his own. Their hands meet in a subtle shake, it's the first real contact they've had, and Kiome can't help but notice how soft Ebisu's hand is. There’s a whisper of a feeling, warm, and nostalgic- the two seemingly lose themselves in it for the moment. It lingers even as they let go, and with sheepish smiles and stuttered goodbyes the two part ways.

In the clear star filled night- the haze further clears on their memories. Ebisu finds himself unable to find easy rest, finding comfort among the midnight sky. As he sits illuminated by the moon- lost in thought, something long forgotten seems to return to him. He has no idea what it means but the prospect has him anxious and excited to find out

‘I wonder what it looks like’ He muses in his thoughts. Gazing up at the moon's glow.

“San Diego~”

#Housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #Tides Of Memory #mc5 x ebisu #kiome #fanfiction #my art #clip studio paint #i have an 8 work day stretch coming #so i wont rlly be active :p

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myfeetkeepdancing · 4 years

Text

Ain’t No Stopping Us Now | Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Requested by: @honquethefrenchuncle

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"Well done, Pete." Pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm glad you got there in time." Snuggled together on the couch, you watch the footage of Spider-Man chasing the robbers. And of course, catching them in spectacular fashion.

"Thanks." He beams with happiness. "Though, I'm still sorry for ruining our night."

"Don't worry." Throwing an arm around him, you hold onto his shoulder and pull him close to you. "Plenty more nights to come."

"You're the best, you know that." He smiles. "I'll make it up to you." He whispers, throwing one leg over yours, and seats himself on your lap. Pulling you into his kiss with both his hands on the side of your face. Kissing you slow and gently. "What do you say?" He whispers, while his cheeks color red.

"Not here, Pete." You look over your shoulder. "Not with 'him' nearby." Nudging towards the dancing Ant-man in the kitchen. Cooking himself some sort of food with a disturbing music song in the background.

"Let's find a place." Peter pulls you from the couch, pushing you down the hall, into the elevator. With a push of a button, the lift shifts towards another level of the tower. The bell announcing its arrival.

'PRIVATE QUARTERS'

But before you walk out of the elevator, Peter pulls you back in just as the door closes. "Wait. Not there."

"Why not?"

"It's laundry day."

"You don't wanna… stain your fresh sheets?"

"No, that's not it." He chuckles. "Vision and Wanda are doing laundry."

"I... still don't follow, Peter."

"Vision moves through walls unannounced, delivering peoples stuff. It's horrifying."

"I get it." You push the button for another level, named TRAINING QUARTERS. "Let's go there." Peter approves with a smile and a nod. Making the elevator shift multiple levels. Long enough for the two of you to enjoy each other's company. Peter closes the distance between the two of you, as you hoist yourself onto the metal railing in the lift. Unstable to sit properly, but Peter supports you. Caressing you collarbone with his soft lips, carefully making his way up towards your neck.

"Peter…" You warn him. Noticing the lift slowing down at an unchosen level. Which was certainly not the training quarters. Jumping down from the railing, your gaze shoots towards the lift door. As Peter straightens his clothing, the door slides open. In disbelief, you watch Nick Fury stand in front of you. Folder clenched under his right arm.

"Boys." He grumbles in a bitter tone if he's about to lecture the two of you. His one eye scans you both. And continues to step into the elevator, presses a button, and turns around.

You both shoot each other a questioning glance. Not daring to make a single noise as the lift shifts further upwards. You're not sure if it's the leather strap of his eyepatch or his long coat, but the sound of leather creaks eerily, as he glances over his shoulder. The lift halts seconds after, as the door opens. And returns his gaze to his front. You can hear a faint chuckle coming from him as he walks out. Peter instantly smashes the button to close the door. "That man gives me the creeps." Imitating a shudder shooting across his body.

Walking down the halls of the training quarters, Peter suddenly pulls you in one of the doors. "This should be empty." He says, throwing you against a locker, as the game of love continues where it had previously been abrupted. Peter's lust-filled eyes devoured yours as your lips meet in the middle. Hands craving for unexposed skin.

"Bucky?" A familiar voice calls far from the other side of the room. "Is that you?"

An annoyed sigh escapes your lips as you both jump away behind the next row of lockers. Patiently waiting for a sound or a person to show up.

"Bucky, you there?" The voice of Steve sounded louder this time as the door swung open.

"Let it go, Steve. He'll be alright." You hear Natasha reassure him. A few murmured words fade away together with his footsteps as the door closes. The sound of leather boxing gloves striking things continues muffled in the distance.

Again, you make your way down the hall. Checking a few rooms, but decide to go up a level via the staircase. People were everywhere. Literally. If it weren't Avengers, then it was technicians or cleaners.

"C' mere (Y/N)." Peter's grasp on your arm halts your step on the staircase. He reels you in as he closes his arms around you. Kissing you fiercely, as you hold the railing from the window. Forcing your body against his. Groans of pleasure and excitement fall from your breaths as both your flames of desire raged. Peter's hands slide under your shirt, caressing your figure with the intensity you always liked. This sudden shift from innocent-looking puppy to a lustful man. But something in the corner of your eye was distracting you. You felt watched.

"Oh my God…!" You call out in frustration. Your eyes catch sight of the person opposite you. And it was someone else than Peter.

"Y-You like that?" Peter teases as he keeps on kissing your exposed skin.

"Hey, lovey doveys." The Falcon waves, and crosses his arms again.

"Oh shit!" Peter jumped away from the window.

"This… glass was all fogged, so I thought, let's check it out." A content grin on his face. "Fun times, eh?" Giving you two a wink.

"Go bird watching somewhere else!" Giving him the finger as you push Peter up the stairs.

"Into the lift, I know one more place." Once again, you shift past several floors in the tower. If only the elevator would go as fast as the testosterone raced through your system.

You double-check the theater and turn off the lights. Continuing the fun you had earlier. But now in the dark, making the adventure even better. Muffled giggles and laughs are shared. Before Peter holds you dead in your tracks.

"Wait..." Peter whispers. "Someone's here."

"No, Peter. This time we're alone." You protest. "You can't even see them!"

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm sensing someone up there. It's my tingle." He ignites the torch on his phone, illuminating an air vent a couple of meters away from you.

You're not sure what he means. But as you squint your eyes. Through the bars of the vent raster, the face of a man becomes visible." Oh for God sakes!" You yell. "What are you doing up there, Clint?" You watch as his face appears from the vent while you yank up your trousers and fasten your belt.

"Just training." He scoffs. "But you kids shouldn't be doing this here." And see his face disappear into the darkness again. The two of you rest outside the theater, planting your asses on a nearby bench. Watching the workers pass by you. Completely oblivious to your presence.

"We're not having much luck eh..." says Peter laying his head to rest on your shoulder. Rubbing your knee with one hand. "How about we watch some Star Wars?"

"Get your priorities straight, Parker." Kissing the top of his hair. And pull him up from the bench. You hear him giggle at your comment and move towards the staircase, dragging Peter behind you. "I got one last idea. But you have to trust me."

Together you begin dashing up the stairs. Level after level. For Peter, this was a piece of cake, skipping step by step. Almost jumping up the stairs. Until you couldn't go any further. Peter looks in awe as he opens up the doors. As you hobble up the last steps. Completely out of breath. "Look at that view." Peter mumbled. You ended up on the upper floor. The party deck. Reserved for exclusive parties and such. But not today.

"Yeah. And that…" Pointing to a lonely lounge chair in front of the large window overlooking the city. "That's our spot for tonight."

"But how are…?" Pressing a finger to Peter's lip silences his question.

"We… are going to fix it. Follow me."

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Peter asks as he helps to rewire the panel from the lift and room. Gazing over his shoulder across the massive room. "They use this room quite often."

"Don't worry. It's ours tonight." You give him a smile." They're going to talk about this in the future. But it's worth it." You reassure him, as you reinstall the panels back. You take a moment of pride in your work as you see everything still working after the reboot. "We did it!" In a matter of seconds, the lift door locks, and the tainted windows turn dark. "The party deck is ours for the night, baby." Lacing your fingers in his, you lead him towards the lounge chair. "The doors are locked, the windows blinded from the outside in. And the room is completely to ourselves."

"This is amazing." Giving you a lovely smile, followed by a tender kiss on the lips. You both seat yourself on the long comfortable chair. Taking in the view across the city as the sun sinks below the horizon. "We'll able to watch the stars from here." Peter observes. "I love it."

"Good." Throwing an arm around him. You can't help but kiss his cute little face. Beaming of happiness and joy. "Finally, some us time."

"Doesn't this place have cameras?" Peter whispers to you as he leans in, looking over his shoulder. His eyes carefully scanning the room.

"I disabled them." You utter back shifting in your seat. "Trust me, Peter."

"But if that door opens-..." Keeping his gaze fixated on the lift. "Everyone will see us."

"I disabled this level on the lift. They won't be able to-" Peter's soft lips sudden contact with yours cuts your words of mid-sentence. Leaving you amazed. His one hand reaches for your chest, pushing you flat onto the chair. Throwing a leg over, he seats himself on top of you. Pulling his shirt over his head, and lowers his bare torso towards yours. Rubbing his pelvis against yours. Feeling him grow.

And as the evening turned dark. The two of you played the game of love, lust, passion, and desire, long into the night. Guided by the dim light of twinkling stars and hazy moonlight in the night sky.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #male reader #peter parker male reader #peter parker tom holland #spiderman x male!reader #male!reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine

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malkumtend · 3 years

Text

Peace, Battles and Deals. (Baypaw x Dewpaw) - characters owned by @lonely-ghost-606

Just a short fic for my friend @lonely-ghost-606 (check them out if you haven’t already!) This story is based on their characters Baypaw and Dewpaw. You may recognise Dewpaw as the abused daughter of the tyrant VioletStar of Willowclan from Ghost’s “Cut the Cord” animatic on their YouTube channel. All you need to know in preparation for this fic is that she is abused emotionally by her mother and is consistently compared to our other main character Baypaw. Baypaw is the son of Cleopatra and Strongheart, leader and deputy of WaterfallClan. He is widely regarded for his strength, as was expected of him by his parents but they do love him, but he is secretly troubled by the growing tensions between his parents as well as emotions he feels he has to keep secret from his clan mates. WaterfallClan and WillowClan are bitter enemies due to tensions over water resources.

With all that said and done. Let’s get going.

I leave when it gets dark. It isn’t easy getting out of the den without anyone noticing, but I manage. Mother and father remain asleep as I quietly step past them into the dark. I can’t help but smirk when I see them asleep. The all-knowing, poweful leader and deputy dozing away while their son runs off, the clan would probably laugh if they found out. There’s a small pride that feels warm in my chest at the thought that I’m besting them in some way. But softly, I begin to take in the bizarreness of what I’m seeing. They’re so close. Silent, calm, asleep besides each other. Even with the noticeable distance between them, it’s still something. It’s better than… My smile drops, and I groan in irritation. I needed to get out of there.

Surprisingly, it’s even easier to get out of camp. The night patrol is nowhere to be seen and I never smell any WaterfallClan scent when I finally leave clan territory. I know I’m far away to be safe when the steady rush of water fades away, leaving me in the welcome silence of the night.

I sigh in relief, allowing myself a deserved grin. Though maybe, I think, it is worrying our patrols are so useless that they can’t keep a single apprentice in. Then again, I wasn’t just any apprentice. Thanks to my parents, I knew the territory like the back of my paw. I’d have to know that much if I was ever going to…

I shake my head again, this time growling, as soon as the unwelcome thought crawls in.

I begin to pace further from the camp. The moon is full tonight, lighting the forest as if it were my own personal guide. Maybe even the stars are being generous because they know who I am. I snicker a little. I don’t let my guard down, of course. I roll my eyes as StrongHeart’s voice fills my head. Never try to take comfort from being alone. When you’re alone, you’re at your most vulnerable. As if I would be so foolish. I know perfectly well to keep fixed for any possible fight; I was a Warrior after all. Besides, it was my enemy who would be sorry if they tried to sneak up on me. I wasn’t some soft apprentice; they’d soon find that out. If they wanted a fight, they’d better know to bring an army.

Still, I keep to the shadows, tasting the air every couple of seconds. After all, it would do no good if I got a few silly wounds. I didn’t want to make Cleopatra suspicious.

When I approach the river, I scent again for any WillowClan patrols. The stars knew those fox-hearts were always trying to take more water than they needed for that mange-pelt they called a leader. The thought of raking my claws on their pelts was definitely tempting, but thankfully, for them, they seemed to be sticking to their territory for once. The line between out territories was broad enough, so it was easy to make my way along without getting too close.

I just wanted to get out of WaterfallClan for a while. I couldn’t sleep and the thought of walk that could help clear my head of any ‘undesirable’ thoughts was too much to take. I’d have just been tossing and turning until some cat woke up and scolded me, it would be best to get out for a bit. It wasn’t like I had anything important tomorrow, just another training session then some hunting. I’d be fine, I could always pass through that stuff in my sleep.

Being tired because of a moonhigh walk sounded a lot better than being tired because I couldn’t stop thinking about the stupid stuff.

I only briefly take my head away from the trail beside the river, but I stop. Just a tree-length away, I could see what might have been a thousand shadowy shapes. They draped down, swaying in the light breeze, so close to the water they might have been stroking it in long green tongues. Behind them, I saw a thick, but stumpy, tree trunk that stood tall, holding its cluster of leaves that hung like thin claws. Willow trees. I’d never seen them this close. They weren’t typically found on our clan territory. And from what I could tell, this land wasn’t part of WillowClan either. I couldn’t catch their reek at least. I walk closer, admittedly a little in awe at how large the trees were. The leaves were soft on my coat and tickled slightly when I brushed past them. The soil was unusually moist and littered with light green leaves that flickered like stones in the small traces of light. The shadows themselves had an emerald sheen that was nothing else but alluring as I padded through the hanging shrubs.

The shrubs weave together as if they were linking tails, crossing their soft leaves, creating a small tunnel as I carry on. I can smell something new coming over me. Something floral, a lot of flowers actually, spicy and sweet. The dampness leaves my paws as I feel the ground become solid, yet smooth. The grass sticks up, fresh and sharp, but they feel like feathers as they brush my fur.

Slowly, the narrow tunnel widens as the willows jet back, letting the grassland expand in a luminous green. The colour is dim but almost blinding when it gleams in the dark. My jaw drops. I’ve never seen a meadow like this before on any hunting patrol. The grassland around WaterfallClan was typically wet and your paws typically sank into a gross coat of mud. But this was crisp, gentle, alluring even.

Approaching the centre of a small hill I can see more colours flash. Flowers, I realise. A wide array of flowers and herbs I hadn’t even seen in the medicine den. I take a light smell at the closest one, its orange petals wide and succulent with nectar, and I almost feel ashamed by the way the gentle aroma makes my pelt quiver.

I look up at the meadow and I’m suddenly smiling. Has anyone ever found this land before? The small prick of doubt makes me purr. It makes me think of how this meadow was mine. My discovery. My place. I am alone under the green sheen of willow, alone with the fresh grass and the delicate herbs. My head buzzes a little, and I am softly aware of my blood becoming warm.

And then I’m laughing.

Not the laughter I craft when I best an apprentice in training, or when a mentor compares their sulking student with me. All those times, I just laughed because I felt there was nothing else I was meant to do.

But right now. I’m laughing hard. Because the suddenness of the glee and the peace makes it so I can’t stop.

I start leaping across the grass, as if the indents of my paws in the grass will mark the meadow as my own. I’m careful to not displace any flowers as I breathe in the wave of smells that stroke my muzzle and vibrate in my throat. With no eyes on me, I relish for a moment. I could fixate on how my heart beats so loud that I can’t hear anything else.

Here I could just have some time to myself.

There were no apprentices I needed to fight.

There were no talks of war with some stupid clan.

There was no worry here at all. Just me. I could take this in all I wanted. And here, that peace wouldn’t be interrupted by the abrupt stab of an argument I’d be forced to witness.

I find myself at the top of the hill and then I’m rolling down, twisting through laughter and grass, letting the memories ooze like dirt in the soil. My throat begins to hurt a little, and my back bumps on a few stray mole hills, but I don’t care. Finally, I’m on my back, embedded in a nest of wildflowers.

There’s some pressing need inside of me to stay there, that everything will stay great if I don’t move. I blink up at the swaying willow leaves, dancing as if they were birds in the sky. My back feels warm, I’m pressing my paws into the flowers beside me, paddling in petals and nectar that don’t break under my touch.

Everything is just natural here. I close my eyes, not bothering to hide my purr. This is something I could get used to.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice is scratchy, intervening, rough and unfriendly. Worst of all, I recognise it.

Of course. My eyes open into the glare. Of all the scum, it would have to be her.

I’m on my paws before I know it, shaking away any traces of flower or dew. My muscles are stiff with adrenaline and panic. The scent of WillowClan immediately attacks me and I bristle with disgusted anger. But it’s the sight of her that makes me growl. She’s there, bristling like me, a treelength away.

When I’ve seen her before at four-trees, she’s always had that same unlikable aura that permeates around her now. Maybe that was why she was always on her own. Served her right for always looking so sullen and moody all the time.

Then again, that wasn’t a shock. If I’d been unlucky enough to be tortured with that thing as my mother, I wouldn’t be smiling either. I couldn’t help but hate her. She looked so much like that fox-heart it was impossible to like her.

There’s a mixture of hatred and confusion on her face. Honestly it might match her fur to some degree. The confusion sitting in the light violet-grey side of her face, while the anger storms in the darker shade that horrifically takes up the other side. I sniff, my anger growing. Her mother is definitely obvious on her.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. The beauty of the area darkens with her mere presence.

Her fangs glint in a crooked way. “I asked first!”

“Yeah?” I scoff, “Well you can answer first too!”

I hear her growl in a pathetic attempt of intimidation. “A long way off your territory, aren’t you? I could practically smell fish from my den.”

“Last time I checked, this wasn’t your territory either, Dew-drop.” I fuel myself on the way her fur spikes.

“Don’t call me that! We’re closer to my territory than yours.” She narrows her eyes even more. “Is WaterfallClan looking to steal more land? Why am I not surprised?”

Now I’m the one who growls. “You’re the thieves, not us! I was just going for a walk, and I certainly wasn’t looking to have anything to do with your worthless clan!”

As if to spite me, she just smirks at me. If she’s looking to get me mad, she’s definitely succeeding! “Don’t you think you should be walking a little closer to your clan? You’re lucky our patrols haven’t ripped off your fur for bedding yet.”

“Pfft! Why would I be scared of your clan?” I flash my claws at her, strengthening up in a way I knew was threatening.

I can see her jaw clench, but her smirk stiffens with another warning blink of her sharp glare. “Careful, mamma isn’t here to keep you safe, river-rat!” There’s a dare to her voice, almost like she wanted me to rip her to shreds. I must admit, with her fur on edge like that, she does look almost like a worthy challenge.

Almost.

“Heh.” I meet her dare with a step forward. “I don’t need back up for any of your scum.” I’m trying hard to scare her off. As easy as it would be to tear her apart, I really couldn’t be bothered. I came here because I wanted to relax. The sweet scent of the flowers wouldn’t be so appealing if they were coated in the stink of her blood.

But like the idiot she is, she takes another step forward. My teeth clench with aggravation. “Then why don’t you prove it if you’re so tough, big guy?”

Part of me wants to meet her threat with my claws. But I relent. I wasn’t as much of an idiot as she was. I didn’t need to get into some pointless fight over some Tyrant’s spawn. “As gratifying as it would be to put you in your place, I prefer an actual fight.” I inhale the fury that sparks on her face like the warm smell of prey. “I’d get a better battle out of a kit than you.”

“Coward!” She hisses. I scoff.

“Whatever.” I turn away from her, impatient to get back to the other side of the hill. “Do me a favour and keep away from me, eh? Smells better on the other side.” I’m ready to block out whatever stupid mouse-dung that she could come up with.

But she surprises me.

“Oh sure, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your cuddle time with the flowers. Guess that kittypet blood really did make you soft.”

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that she saw what I wanted to keep secret, or the direct insult against my mother, but my blood is immediately boiling, and I’m suddenly sprinting at her.

I’m satisfied when I see a slight jolt come over Dewpaw as I rush at her. To her credit, she doesn’t run away. She pounces at me first, but that’s her first mistake. I slink down onto my belly, using my pace to push me underneath her as she whirls over my head. She doesn’t twist her body, so it’s easy to land a quick strike at her exposed side.

She yowls, landing on her paws with a grunt. She’s quick to turn back to me. “Lucky hit.” She hisses. I get into a fighter’s crouch, placing one paw in front, ready to hit, and one paw back in case I needed to change positions swiftly. I can’t help but laugh silently at how she immediately braces for another pounce; did they teach the apprentices anything in WillowClan. This was going to be easier than I thought.

I’m similarly shocked and disgusted by her idiocy as she pounces forward again, clearly wanting to land some swing at my chest. She was so obvious she may as well have been saying out loud what she was thinking. I just have to side step to easily dodge her and I do it again when she furiously swings at my legs. She’s getting frustrated and that’s her second mistake.

Frustration made you desperate.

“Missed again!” I have to sing when her paw whirls at nothing again, she actually almost loses her balance. I smile to myself. If I wanted to, I could have killed her at so many times during this pointless excuse of a ‘fight’. “If this is the best WillowClan can offer, I’m honestly sympathetic for you lot.”

She lets out a lungeful of air. “Shut up!” She screams. It’s working. If I make her angry, she’ll just get even more desperate, and will soon tire herself out. Then it’ll be easy to pin her. There wasn’t even really a need to mess her up, she wasn’t any kind of threat.

Her next two swipes are just as easily missed, and I’m able to jump over her when she pounces at me again. “Fight back!” She demands.

“Nah. This is more fun!” I take a moment to laugh to myself as she pants in exhaustion.

And that was my mistake.

Because with a surge that wipes away all her exhaustion she darts forward and when I pounce to my side, she instantly follows me with a twist of her body that catches me off guard. Before the smile can leave my face, I feel her paw pound against my cheek. Hard. The following swift hit is just as painful.

I catch my feet well, but the shock makes my heart pound. My teeth ache from the hit, but I keep that hidden. How had she been able to turn like that when she was so tired? And she was tired. Darting a look at her, I can see her fur poofed out like she was ready to drop there. But her paws remained stoic, and her legs didn’t quiver.

And she was smiling. Smiling in a proud way that made me glower.

“No.” She spat out. “That was fun.”

Okay. I admit my foolishness to myself and curse it. No more taking it easy.

I wait for her to obviously lunge at me again, and this time I don’t dodge her. I take advantage of what I’d seen before. My paw swings down onto her back, dizzying her. She met the ground, this time her legs buckling. She tries to get up quickly, but I don’t give her the time.

My paws are on her back before she can let out a grunt. My back legs rest on her spine, and one fore paw presses hard on her neck. She writhes around, screaming bloody murder, but I’m not giving her the chance this time.

“Give up.” I offer mercifully.

Her response would have made a prophet gawk.

I groan and slip off for a moment so I can wrench her onto her back. My paws find her chest again and I’m holding her down once more. But this time my forepaw is on her neck. “I could kill you.” If I wanted, my claws could unsheathe and that would be it for her.

Her eyes meet mine and the defeat I expect is muted. The fight lingers and holds there, stubbornly refusing to expire. She doesn’t stop writhing. Irritation is beginning to replace my anger. What was with this molly? Didn’t she know when she’d lost?

Under my paw I can feel her ferocious growl. “Then why don’t you try it?” I can almost see my shocked reflection in her fangs.

Apparently not.

I could have put an end to her right there. It would have just taken a spasm in my paws.

But she’d called my bluff.

I groan again. What a pain? I didn’t want to kill her; I didn’t really even want to hurt her. I’d already won. There was no point in doing anything drastic with her.

Besides, she’d already ruined enough. I’d come here to avoid this very kind of situation. But I’d let her pull me into her stupid mindgames. This realisation just adds to my irritation, and my desire to beat her dwells a little more.

Eventually, I’m too annoyed to hold her down anymore. I push myself off her with a huff, glaring at her as I smooth down the ruffled patches of fur. “Like I’d start some war over you.” I hiss.

The look she’s giving me is both smug and furious. She gets to her paws quickly, as if she couldn’t remember how badly she was losing. Maybe she was that stupid. “What’s the matter?” She spits, “Too afraid to finish a fight?”

I’m too angry to let her provoke me. “That wasn’t a fight.” I meow. “That was a beating.” I wouldn’t even say I was taunting her there, but her claws flex again. A voice warns me that she’s dumb enough to lunge at me again.

By some miracle however, she’s smart enough to just let out a bitter hiss and remain where she is. “That mark on your face says otherwise.”

I’m confused for a moment, then I hear the small droplet of blood hit the ground beneath me. My eyes widen. She had her claws unsheathed? Fox-dung, she hated me that much? I growl, I hadn’t bled in a fight for ages. The last thing I wanted was for her to do it.

“Lucky hit.” I reply, “You were the one pinned down, not me.”

As I wipe a washed paw across the wound, I await her response. It doesn’t come. My lips purse, and I turn, half-thinking she was planning some cowardly attack. She’s sitting down, glaring at the ground. There’s something dark mixing with the clear anger on her face. It’s similar to the face she usually has at the gatherings.

I snort quietly. Whatever. Like I cared! What ran through her head was nothing I wanted anything to do with. As long as she kept her distance, we’d be fine.

My stomach sinks a little. There wasn’t really a reason to stay here anymore. Whatever peace I’d wanted to gather was gone now. Plus, I’d have to think of some excuse for how this stupid cut got on my face. The only good thing was that she’d have to find an even better excuse for all the dirt and bruises that stuck to her pelt.

I groaned, it still wasn’t like her problems did anything to quell mine. I began to pad back home again. The stink of WillowClan and blood was mixing in my head and it was slowly making my blood run a horrible cold.

“Where are you going?” I hear her shout behind me, like I was doing something wrong. “We’re not done.”

“Yes we are.” I say, not looking back. I wasn’t wasting any more time with her. “I’m going back to my Clan. Why don’t you do the same?”

“I don’t follow your orders!”

I roll my eyes. This crazy molly! “Fine! Do what you like then.”

It’s silent for a second as I walk up the hill. “You going back to your flower patch?” I can hear the smirk in her voice.

I turn back, my eyes trying to burn away whatever stupidity has seemed to overtake her. “You didn’t see anything?”

She laughs. Obviously pleased that she’s lured me back. “Oh, I think I did. And I think a lot of my friends would love to hear about what the strongest apprentice in the forest gets up to when he thinks no one’s watching.”

My face is a raging fire, enough that it would scare off any apprentice I knew. But she isn’t like them. Her blood is as cold as stone. Underneath my snarls, I am panicking, even if it’s just a little. “You wouldn’t dare.” My grit teeth don’t falter. “I bet you don’t even have any friends.”

Dewpaw’s head twitches to the side. “Is that a fact? Oh, then I guess you don’t have anything to worry about.”

The change is so strong we both notice it. The power shift. It makes my insides clench, while she straightens brightly. If I denied it, my clanmates more than likely wouldn’t believe her, but my parents would most definitely get suspicious, and worst of all Violetstar would use any rumour she could against WaterfallClan. And regardless of whether it could be proven or not, that would only heighten the tensions between our clans.

“You rat.” I hiss, I’m ashamed of how soft my voice sounds.

She shrugs, “Yeah, it’d be pretty embarrassing for you, wouldn’t it?”

I take another step forward, “Are you trying to get yourself mauled?”

“You can do what you want, I’ll still get away. By the next gathering everyone will know.” She warns. I stop in my tracks as I sense she’s about to run.

I have to try and keep calm. If I act like I don’t care there’s still a small chance I can throw her off. I wave my tail at her dismissively, “No one in my clan will believe you. And if you think I care one bit what your kind thinks of me, then you’re a real mouse-brain.”

“If that’s the case, then go ahead and get gone.” The way she says it, so sure of herself, admittedly makes me feel ill.

I don’t move. I can’t move. I feel like prey cornered onto a cliff. Every thought I try to make just makes my heart race all the more. In her eyes, I can see she isn’t seeing what everyone is meant to. She’s seeing something else. Something vulnerable. The parts of myself I love and hate so much. I haven’t felt so pathetic for so long.

I look up at her. Her eyes are narrowed and her lips are thin. Thinking. Probably figuring out what kind of blackmail she can use to torture me. My paws are shaking either from anger or humiliation. I don’t want to know which. I think again how I could easily silence her if I wanted to.

But she’s caught me. She knows I wouldn’t do it. She can see it in the way I stupidly bite my lip. I sigh, defeated. I have no choice but to await it.

“Tell you what,” I brace myself as she starts, darting a look of hate her way. She doesn’t flinch. Her mind is made up. “If you tell me what you’re really doing here, I’ll keep your little secret.”

I stiffen, trying to make sense of what I’ve heard. She can see I don’t trust her. “What?”

“You heard me. I don’t think your deaf.”

I unlatch my jaw, “I was just out on a walk.”

“That’s nice.” She says smoothly, “Now how about the truth?”

The fire smokes in my throat again, choking me, blazing in me. “Why do you care?” I force out. There’s no point in lying to her. Apparently that Tyrant blood had decided to give her mind reading powers.

She just shrugs, her tail waves impatiently.

I want to scoff and storm away, but that would do no good. She’s unnaturally controlled right now, nothing like the rushing, impulsive fool I’d fought just a few moments ago. Her eyes patiently lie on me, her claws tapping the ground like a waiting mother. Her aura of smugness makes me want to vomit.

Instead, I think up the closest thing I can think of that will make the truth yet hide the worst parts.

“I… I just wanted to find someplace to relax okay?” I force out roughly. She waits still so I go on a little more. “Training wears me out a little, alright, of course I need to unwind a little sometimes.”

She raises a brow rigidly, “Why not do that at your own clan?”

I blink quickly to hide the voices and images that flash over me. My eyes find the ground, still straight enough to look strong. “It’s more… relaxing on my own. No idiot’s gonna bother me here.”

Or so I thought. I keep that part shut. She doesn’t.

“I thought the same when I came here.” Her snicker makes me growl. “Oh relax, don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” I mutter, glancing back at her. I’m sick of this now. “There, I told you why I came. Now will you keep your mouth shut?”

She must see something I hate because she’s smirking again. Don’t kill her. Don’t kill her. Not yet.

“So, you come here because you wanted to relax with some flowers?” Her voice is more questioning than unkind. It doesn’t stop me from groaning.

“I wasn’t looking for the flowers.”

“But you were resting in them?”

“I could have rested anywhere!”

“I could hear you smelling them. You were purring.”

Oh for the love of- “Look we had a deal; will you keep quiet about this or do I have to make you?” It comes out of me too hoarse to be threatening.

Her chest settles down softly, the stiffness in her eyes has faded, replaced by something I can’t describe. She’s laughing, but it sounds different. “Relax. I’ll keep your secret.”

I’m just about to let the silent relief come to me.

“But, in exchange for keeping your other secret, I want your help with something.”

Something in my chest explodes. A thousand dark voices are screaming somewhere in my chest. “What?!” I yowl. “What other secret?”

“The reason you’re hear of course!” She smiles at me, mockingly sweet. Her eyes gleam like a fox’s.

Starclan, whatever I did to deserve this, I repent my sins. I will literally grovel for hours at your mercy if you’ll kindly make her drop dead, right here.

“You slimy little-”

She raises her paw at me, waving my threat away. “Yeah yeah, let’s get to the point okay? If you want me to keep quiet about that, you need to do something for me.”

I run my paws into my eyes until I see spots. My claws are digging into my fur, desperate to latch to anything that resembles flesh. I should have known she’d trick me like that! “And what it that?” I speak like I’m vomiting out smoke and mud.

When I look at her, anticipating her smug exterior, my anger gives way to surprise. Her paw is covering her mouth like she was hiding a scar of some kind. Her eyes are wistful, darting to the sky as if the trees would speak for her. And there’s some kind of darkness on the patches of fur below her eyes.

I edge back, my mouth opening. Was she blushing? My heart begins to pound and I can feel some kind of tremor in my tail. Just what the heck was she going to ask me to do?

“I… w-want you to t-train here with me.”

I look away then back at her. I try to find any difference on her exterior. The only thing I can see is that she’s blushing harder! She was being serious!

“Say that again?” She wanted to train with me?

“I’m not saying it again!” She snaps, her hostile glare coming back like it belongs there.

“Why on Silverpelt would you want me to train with you? Better yet, why the heck would I ever come back here just to train with you?”

She huffs, her ears digging back. “One – I’ll keep your secret if you do. Two – if you do it, that means after we’re done you can go back and sniff flowers all you want.” She ignores my hate filled face. “And three…” She loses her breath, trailing away with a bitter mutter.

“What?”

She forces herself to look back to me. “I need to train. It’s… hard training back home. I’m sick of losing to the likes of you.”

I resist the urge to snap back at her. I’m genuinely put off by how odd she looks. It was like she was doing everything she could to avoid my eyes. “Why can’t you train with your clanmates?”

“I would if I could. But they wouldn’t dare try and take me on seriously.”

“Why?”

The anger on her face is morphing. Her eyes darken and her breath shakes as she hisses. “You know why.”

Once again, she looks similar to how I’ve always seen her. And now I can recognise the look that makes her fur slacken and her teeth clench. She was miserable. I just needed to look at her, look at who she was, to see why.

“Okay.” I sigh, finding myself bored. “So why do you want my help?” Something clicks in my head that makes me chuckle. “Is this you willing to admit I’m better than you?”

She twists up, her tail lashing, but a fake grin on her muzzle. “Well, you’ll certainly do.” She looks away again, her façade morphing into a neutral expression. “I just need to fight with someone who I know won’t go easy on me.” I snort. That would certainly be me. “Whatever training I can get, I’ll take.”

“Hm.” I mutter quickly, “Well you’ll have to keep looking. I don’t want to train with you.” Coming here for the sole purpose of fighting with some cat I hated was actually more that the exact opposite of what I came here to do. I wasn’t going to help my enemy get better. Spending time, no matter how forced it was, with her was worse than any punishment I could imagine.

“I don’t want to particularly want to train with you!” She exclaims angrily, then glowers to her side, her whiskers drooping. “But I don’t have a lot of other choices.” Light blue pupils swipe back at me with an ugly sneer. “And neither do you, if you want me to keep quiet.”

She has a point there. But I’m still not convinced she’ll stick to this deal. Besides that meant I would have to come out here when she wanted me too! “I’m not risking getting caught for you.”

“Just lie and say you were going for a walk. I’ll be sneaking out too, you know. You’re not the only one making a risk here.”

“What happens if I can’t turn up because I’m caught? You’ll just go back on your deal because you thought I was dodging you!”

“Well, would you?”

Probably. It just hits me then that I’ve told her a plan I could have taken. I growl weakly. I wasn’t thinking straight at all around this pest.

“How about this then?” She says, her tail waving along the grass. “If one of us doesn’t turn up that night, the next night we’ll catch up from there, and if you don’t show up that time, then I’ll let slip your little secret.” She snaps. “At least then I’m giving you a chance then.”

Giving me a chance? I would have been doing it because of her! “Am I supposed to be grateful to you for that?”

Her tone is blunt. “Yes.”

And now she’s looking more like her mother. My claws want to scratch at the ground. This wasn’t fair. I still had more to lose than her if I took part in this stupid deal. The situation cuts into me deeper and deeper with each passing thought. Surely there had to be something I could use against her. I think for a moment and find myself leering at her.

“What if I told everyone how you asked another clan cat for training help? What if I told them why you didn’t want to train with your clanmates?” I spit at her, feeling the tide slowly ease off me. She had secrets she had to keep as well.

Her eyes fill incredulously, but it’s just for a moment. She soon shrugs. “Then I guess we both lose, huh?”

Horror overtakes me again. My tongue trembles on my jaw. Was she really not fazed at all? If she didn’t care then there would be no point in telling anyone. I begin to feel disgusted by the fact that unlike her I have a reputation to keep. I try again, scowling. “You really want your mother finding out about that?”

She laughs. It’s dry. Toneless. Unreserved. But she actually laughs. “That’s my problem, not yours. You’d be surprised how little difference it would make.” She sniffs, staring coldly at me. The weight of her words hangs in the air, but it gives her the control she needs. Her eyes light with evil amusement as she watches me splutter.

She really didn’t care.

My breathing has become audibly clear with panic. Everything seemed to press into me like a swarm of badgers. But more than anything it was the powerlessness she had talked me into. That was it. She’d just had to lure me here and now I was shaking like some kind of frozen elder. I think of what Cleopatra or Strongheart would do if they could see me like this in front of an enemy.

They might actually join together for once just to scold me. Like normal parents.

I don’t know why but Dewpaw doesn’t look like she wants to laugh at me. She stares at me, awkward and confused. I don’t want to think how I look. If I do, I might actually feel tears fight to come out.

I hear her cough absently. “Look, all you have to do is come here and train with me for a while.” She says, I hesitate to call the tone soft. Soft didn’t match her at all. “After we’re done, I’ll leave you alone and you can relax all you like. And I’ll keep quiet about it.”

I glance at her, stonily. She sighs. “Okay. I promise I’ll keep quiet about this if you train with me. Swear on my clan.” She brushes her paw over her heart like some silly kit. “It means we both get what we want. I get to train, you get to do… whatever you want, okay?”

She’s watching me mull over her words. I’m desperate yet reluctant. I can’t help it. This has stormed over the land like the rush of the waterfall. Truthfully, I knew I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t let her get loose with what she knew. I look over her, her toned, but unimpressive, muscles. I could just tell that training with her would be a fool’s errand. There was no way she would beat me, even if she did learn how to properly move in a fight. I’d just end up beating her every night.

Somewhat of a pleasant idea, but not enough for me to want to sneak off every night.

But I suppose that what I want doesn’t really matter. The only want I could sustain was her silence.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. My lips thin as I consider this. I’d get some time away from WaterfallClan, and it wasn’t like I’d have to spend all night training her. I’d just battle her, say some light moves that wouldn’t make her too powerful, and then maybe she’d finally be satisfied to leave me alone. If I was being honest, the very fact she would want to train with me was a sign enough that she couldn’t afford to be picky.

My eyes go to the corners. She’s still there sat down. I can see an impatient frown on her muzzle. I can see her tail thumping crossly on the ground. But most of all, I can see the vague, lightless hope in her eyes.

Something inside me gives way and I let out a sharp groan. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She perks up, her chest puffing out with a meow. Quickly a frown comes to her though, and we resume glaring at each other. “Okay, great. Guess that means your secret’s safe.”

“You make sure it is.” I hiss at her. Just because I’d agreed to help her, it didn’t mean I had to be nice. She wouldn’t be, I knew. “Unlike you, I have a reputation to uphold. So, keep it shut that I go here!”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever. Sure thing, flower-patch.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“I can’t make that promise.” Her eyes flash at me mischievously, a playful way that doesn’t match her at all. I have no control of my eyes as they widen. “You keep yours and we’ll be just fine.” She says. She turns away from her, tail swaying to and fro in a manner of goodbye. “I’m going. We’ll meet here tomorrow night.”

My fur thins down, “Tomorrow?”

She looks back, one eye widened, the other mockingly drooped halfway. “What? You got a date or something?” The half-opened eye winks at me as a cool grin forms on her mouth.

Against my will, I flush a little. In the emerald night, her fangs glint like arrowheads under the water. My silence is telling; the way my eyes are trying to make her erupt into flames are even more so.

“Didn’t think so.” She purrs. I watch her as she walks away, still racing from the embarrassment of this night. “Have fun!” She calls back to me. I scoff at her poor mockery.

It was a mocking call, right? Of course it was! Best to return it. “Hope those scratches make your clan suspicious, Dewdrop!” I hiss at her back.

“These things?” She doesn’t turn back but I can feel her holding back a snarl. “Oh please, there so tiny I’ll just blame them on playing with a kit.”

The tight rage in my chest keeps me quiet enough that I don’t respond. Her tail lashes again, swift and seamless. See you tomorrow. It might mean. I don’t really care if it does or not. She gently disappears under the willows until she’s nothing but a shade of the night. Soon, I’m alone again.

I can’t help but feel like I have to grunt. I still can’t believe what I’ve agreed to. How a journey for a night of peace could go so wrong? I make my way back to the untrampled flowers, breathing them in to quell the ill density in my stomach. This is what I was here for, and I was alone like I wanted, I didn’t need to think about her anymore.

But she’s really ruined my night.

Because she’s worked her way in. Either because of her words or the battle she forced out of me, but I can’t stop thinking about her disgusting grin or her rough laughter. Instead of the flowers sweet nectar, I smell her damp, earthy scent, clouding the area like a toxic fog. I try several different patches and at least a hundred breeds that I’d never seen before, but it remains lingering around me like a rogue in my camp. Unwanted. Dangerous even.

I cannot repress the thoughts, and soon enough I’m too sour and angry to want to stay here anymore. I don’t even think I want to come back. But I have to. My paws cut away at the ground in anger. Why did she have to ruin everything? I exhale through my nose. There was no point looming on it, that was probably what she wanted.

But even that doesn’t stop it. Even after I’ve left the area, even as I find my way back to clan camp, and even as I’ve creeped back to my nest and curled down to sleep again, that image remains. Her looking back at me, smiling smugly, white fangs shining in my head.

I cover my eyes with an internalised, hateful groan. This was not what I expected to fall asleep to. AT ALL.

#Baypaw #dewpaw #bayleaf #dewshade #waterfallclan #willowclan #lonely ghost 606

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melancholicumsomnia · 3 years

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[FIC] A Little Miracle In The Volume Part 6

A/N: Here’s Part 6 of my fic contribution to PEDRO PASCAL APPRECIATION WEEK 2021 of @pedrohub! The #ppaw2021 theme of Day 6 is Pedro + Color, and of course the color is BROWN.

To @pedrocentric, here’s the next part! To those few folks who have been following this fic, my humble thanks to you all! Last part will go up tomorrow!

PREVIOUS PARTS

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

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A Little Miracle In The Volume

Rory

SOURCE: Audra Faye on Pinterest

Part Six

There was something about a battle scene – the potential for carnage and mayhem – that could draw out the bloodthirstiness in a man, even if it was a make believe one.

That particular thought crossed Bill Burr’s mind as he watched crew members bustling with excitement as they set up the MBS Media Campus backlot for the filming of the climactic confrontation between Mando and his comrades against Moff Gideon and his Stormtroopers on Nevarro.

After what he could only dub as the “Ceremonial Turnover of the 501st Legion” by Deb Chow to Taika Waititi, Bill gaped with some trepidation as a seemingly demented Taika jumped about and cackled in glee, “I’ve got my own Stormtroopers! Oooh, so many things I can do with them!” Noticing the comedian standing near one of the small buildings, Taika waved to him. “Hey, Bill! Nice to see ya! Care to join my band of merry Stormtroopers?”

SOURCE: REDDIT

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Bill called back. “I just got done with a meeting with Rick about our episode. I’ll be getting my share of action soon, I guess. But thanks for asking, by the way.”

“Your loss, my friend,” Taika exclaimed as he hurried off to direct the men and women of the 501st Legion, who judging from their delighted faces never imagined that they’d actually be on set filming a Star Wars show.

The only person who didn’t seem too happy about the goings-on was the helmeted figure sitting in the cool shadows of a narrow alley. For some reason, Bill found himself gravitating toward that lonely figure.

“Hi, there! I’m Bill,” he introduced himself, reaching out his hand. “You must be Pedro.”

Pedro removed his helmet then, revealing the most expressive brown eyes that Bill had ever seen in his life. Judging from the glimmer in those doe-like orbs, he must’ve been thinking of something sad. Nevertheless, Pedro gave the comedian a nice smile and greeted, “Hi! It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’ll be playing Migs Mayfeld, right? How do you feel about being in a Star Wars TV show?” He asked the last with a teasing tone in his voice.

“Frankly, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Bill declared, a bit embarrassed. “I must be nuts to let Jon rope me into this.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fun. It’s just too bad that I won’t be around to do your episode with you. I’ll be going back to England to finish shooting Wonder Woman 1984. Then again, you’re pretty lucky because you won’t get to work with….”

Pedro’s voice trailed off then.

Feeling left hanging, Bill gently coaxed, “Work with who?”

In answer to his question, puppeteer Jason Matthews approached Jon. “I already fixed the puppet as you have suggested. But Mr. Herzog won’t give him to me. He told me to tell you that you should send someone to inform him when you’re ready to start shooting.”

“Unbelievable!” Jon groaned. “How can we set up and rehearse when he’s keeping the Child in custody? Never mind. Tell Taika that we’ll focus on filming the skirmish for today. Depending upon how the action goes, we can figure out how we can CGI in IG-11 and the baby.”

Hearing that exchange, Bill turned to Pedro. “Herzog? They’re not talking about Werner Herzog, are they?”

“They are. Herzog’s playing the Client. He actually finished all of his scenes but he’s still hanging around the set because he developed this crazy fixation over the Child.”

“Having not seen the Child in question, I’d like to know if he’s really so cute that he has tamed a guy like Herzog.”

“Oh, he’s not just cute,” Pedro said with undisguised fondness. “There’s something magical about him. You’d understand once you see him.” He then sighed. “It’s just too sad that I didn’t get enough time with the baby off-screen. Werner just won’t let the kid out of his sight and, for some reason, he doesn’t like me.”

Bill straightened up with arms akimbo. His Boston accent grew thicker on his tongue as he declared in outrage, “That ain’t right! That baby should be with you, not him! He’s playing the bad guy!”

“You should try telling him that. A lot of people have tried talking to him, but he’s just too pigheaded.”

Bill snorted in strong disapproval. “Hmph! Looks like the time for talking is done. What we need is action.”

“Bill, it’s okay. I’ve already accepted it. After all, there is going to be a Season 2. I didn’t make any commitments, so I’ll get to spend more time with the Child then.”

“It still ain’t right that you’re not bonding with the kid as you should.” Bill made his decision in an instant. “That’s it! I’m goin’!”

“Going where?” Pedro asked in growing alarm.

“Where else? I’m gonna get back the kid.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Now, just sit there, little one, while I get some milk and cookies for you. Maybe a pair of headphones so you won’t get startled by all the explosions.”

As Werner went into the kitchen, the head of a sneaky figure slowly rose to peek through the trailer window.

Bill saw the Child at once, sitting at the small dining table. “What the fuck? Is that Baby Yoda?”

At his muffled exclamation, Grogu slowly turned to him. The Child gave him a broad grin and waved his little hand.

“Aww! Ain’t ya a cutie!” It never even occurred to the comedian to ponder why the puppet moved by itself.

Carefully, Bill pushed the trailer door open and tiptoed inside. Picking up the baby, he whispered, “Come on, kid! I’m bringing you back to your Daddy.”

In reply, Grogu made happy cooing noises.

“You like that, huh? Let’s go now.”

“Who are you?”

Bill felt his blood run icy cold at that angry voice. His head slowly moving to the left, he found himself gaping at Werner, now red in the face and carrying a glass of milk and a plate full of cookies.

“I…uh…” the comedian stammered, unsure of what to say. In the end, both he and the Child raised a hand and waved to the German filmmaker. “Bye!”

Bill darted out of the trailer before Werner could stop him. As he dashed off, he heard the German director shout, “Baby snatcher! Somebody stop him!”

Bill thought he was going to get away with the baby. Surely, an old man like Werner Herzog wouldn’t run after him. However, as he turned at the corner and onto the street leading to the backlot, he saw Werner giving chase. To make matters worse, he saw the old man grab an enormous gaffi stick from one of the props men.

“Give that baby back or I’ll kill you!”

“OH SHIT!!!” Bill exclaimed, realizing that his very life was now in jeopardy.

Unknown to the comedian, as he rushed into the backlot, the shooting of the Nevarro skirmish scene had already commenced. There was a loud pop as a Stormtrooper shot a blaster right at him.

“Hey!” he yelled, cradling the Child protectively. “I gotta kid here!”

Rather than calling “Cut!”, from his director’s chair, Taika called out, “Hey, Bill! Fire back, man! You’re being attacked by my Stormtroopers!”

“WHAT?”

Taika made shooting gestures with both hands. “Pew pew!”

Rolling his eyes, Bill did as he was told, running straight down the center of the backlot while “Pew pew-ing” every extra that got into his path. At one point, there was an explosion at his left, so that he dodged to the side. Werner was relentless though. He followed the comedian in small, but swift strides, waving the gaffi stick menacingly in the air. Through it all, the Child crooked under Bill’s arm laughed and squealed.

At that moment, Pedro took his cue to step outside of the building to confront Moff Gideon’s troops. Great was his shock when he saw Bill hurrying toward him, baby in tow, and with a rampaging German director behind him.

Bill even raised the baby high up in the air and cried, “I got the kid!”

In his fright to get away from Werner, Bill didn’t notice the large rock sticking out of the dirt. Suddenly, he tripped on the rock and the Child flew out of his hands. Grogu spread out his little arms and screamed, “Wheeeeeeee!”

Gasping, Pedro leaped up high, his arms stretched out in front of him. That sudden movement caused the helmet to slip from his head. As his body started to fall, he caught the Child easily and hugged him protectively as they hit the ground.

“Are you okay, Grogu?” Pedro asked the Child worriedly, but the baby only laughed and flapped his arms like a bird, indicating that he wanted more.

Bill stared at Pedro and Grogu. Dazed as he was, he couldn’t help blurting out, “You two really look like father and son. You have the same pretty brown eyes and…”

Whatever else he was going to say, the comedian never got to finish because a dark shadow loomed over him.

“Evil baby snatcher!” A breathless but visibly tear-filled Werner rapped him on the head with the stick.

“Owwww!” Bill grabbed his head, feeling the growing lump.

Seeing Pedro staring at him, it was Werner’s turn to be flustered. There was no mistaking the tears that fell from his eyes as he stammered, “I’m sorry. I left the Child for just a minute to get snacks for him, but…this baby snatcher…”

Pedro nodded. As Bill looked on, he gaped as the actor entrusted the baby back to the crying director. “Please keep an eye on him, Werner. Okay?”

Werner hugged the struggling baby in his arms. “I will. I promise I will. And I’m so sorry.”

To the German filmmaker’s shock, Grogu pushed his face when Werner tried to kiss him. Whirling toward Pedro, Grogu reached out to him with his little arms, making desperate whining noises.

At that very moment, Werner’s face turned pale when he saw the group of puppeteers who had joined the onlookers. This time, all the puppeteers were present and accounted for, having come out of the small building where the scene with the puppet was to be filmed. None of them had their controls. And, yet, the baby was wriggling and crying in his embrace.

By then, Pedro had already put the helmet back on. Walking toward the struggling Child, he caressed Grogu’s little head.

“Go with your grandpa, Grogu,” Pedro whispered. “It’ll only be for a little while. We’ll be back together to film a scene before you know it.” Raising his helmet a bit, he kissed Grogu in the spot between his eyes. Werner saw the teardrop hanging from Pedro’s jaw.

“Thank you, Pedro,” Werner could only stammer. “I’ll bring him back once you’re ready to shoot.” He then walked off with a crying Grogu in his arms, heading back for his trailer.

As Pedro helped him to his feet, Bill demanded, “Why did you do that for? I thought you wanted the kid?”

“I did, but…seeing how he chased you...” Pedro then confessed, “…I never realized how much Werner cared for the baby. It isn’t right to take the Child away from him like that.”

At that moment, a very happy Taika called out to him, “Great work, Bill! You got the action sequence I wanted for IG-11 just right. All I have to do is edit you out and I can CGI in the robot with the kid.”

Meanwhile, the members of the 501st Legion were all abuzz at seeing the Child for the first time. An exasperated Jon had the unit directors hand out an additional page of the non-disclosure agreement for them to sign.

When one lady in Stormtrooper armor gushed out, “Oh my God! I just saw a Baby Yoda! I can’t wait to tell my kids!”, Jon ordered Kim Richards, “Have her sign TWO NDAs!”

Hearing Jon’s order, Bill and Pedro laughed. When their laughter subsided, the comedian smiled warmly. “You’re a real nice guy, Pedro. I just hope I could get to work with you and the kid someday, although it doesn’t seem likely after this.”

“Who knows?” Pedro said reassuringly. “Maybe we will still have a need for a sharpshooter like Mayfeld in Season 2.”

“Maybe…” Bill trained his gaze toward Jon who was gathering signed papers. “Hey, Jon! If ever you want me back to work for ya, make sure this guy,” he then pointed to Pedro, “doesn’t have a helmet on.” Grinning at his fellow actor, he said, “I’m gonna call him ‘Brown Eyes’.”

Pedro’s lips curled up in a wry pout. “Next time, please don’t drop the baby!”

Bill crossed his heart and raised his right hand while cupping the lump on his head with his left. “I swear that I will never drop the baby ever again!”

TO BE CONCLUDED

#ppaw2021 #miracle in the volume fic #real person fic #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrocentric

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a-lil-perspective · 4 years

Text

Hunter x Reader

A/N: What nobody asked for. I didn’t think a title would be appropriate for this particular piece of work. It really doesn’t coincide with any Star Wars themes, save for everybody’s favorite Sergeant making his debut within. It’s more of a Lil perspective. (Lol I’m sorry my last two brain cells have no sense of humor) For context: I have been absolutely suffocating lately, in every sense of the word. It’s almost indescribably oppressive, so I wrote this in desperately seeking comfort and therapy. Just a fragmented depiction, addresses underlying mental health issues and sensory disorders—in carrying my own subtle semblance of it, I love exploring those complexities with Hunter. It turns out soft. I think. Also, if you squint hard enough, you will see some song lyrics scattered throughout the fic in the form of thoughts. I wrote this in the format of Reader, though it’s practically a self-insert, I’m just not brave enough for those particular pronouns. :) Sorry in advance if this doesn’t apply to you...

▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️

Isn’t anyone trying to find me... Won’t somebody come take me home...

The silence was prodding. Hunter’s gaze darted to your tense form numerous times over the span of several painfully long, anticipating minutes. Each time, your lips remained pulled into a tight line while your extremities fidgeted in repetition. Agitation hung thick in the air. A terse statement of Y/N’s mystics echoed off the walls, to no-one in particular.

“I think... I’ve been gone for a long time.”

Hunter’s eyes incredulously searched you. “What do you mean?”

You see me standing, but I’m dying on the floor...

Your fists reflexively clench in grabbing at any semblance of weight to prevent your form from being dragged down into the mental abyss. You could feel it’s foreboding pull. It’s impending chaos.

It’s coming.

“Talk to me, Y/N...”

Your grip slackens, and you slip right over the edge. Hunter is too late to grab you.

I only want to die alive...

Your broken, unbridled guttural cries in response to the months of overwhelming emotional suppression caused Hunter to wince, and his own sensory receptors gain enough momentum to inwardly complain. He instinctively stuffs it down before kicking into action.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m here—”

Electric. The touch. His touch. It pricked, and the very fine hairs adorning the skin along your arms instantly retaliated to the calloused padding of Hunter’s fingertips caressing. It exacerbated your state of distress and just like that, your neurons overloaded. Sharp, stale air seeped in between your grit teeth and inhalation of insecurity.

Your sudden intake of breath and harsh flinch caused Hunter to cease in brushing up and down the outer region of your upper arms. His eyes narrowed slightly and quickly picked apart your stance. It greeted him like an old adversary with the remnants of a longstanding history, and a discomfiture swirled around Hunter at it’s painful familiarity.

“I can’t do this...” You breathe out despair.

The existing in general? The physical connection itself?

The latter wasn’t your fault. But it sure as hell felt like it. It certainly wasn’t his fault. Thankfully, somehow, the glint in Hunter’s shifting irises reassured you that he was privy to your suffering, to some degree; he knew. He understood.

Of course he did.

For who to better understand heightened tactile sensitivity than Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99? He was neither confounded nor dissuaded by your particularity in the slightest.

It had always been an inherence of yours; a rather obnoxious caricature within the conundrum, some obscure accessory buried in your already heavily packed bags. An extra ingredient that completely screwed up the recipe. Constituted as awkward, plain and simple; the dramatized detail never became easier to address with age, and the thick lump of disdain in your throat only grew.

You set your jaw in frustration. How to even begin picking up and putting together the pieces of a person who’s constantly missing one, or several. You were never satiated, equanimity never extended it’s stay for long; simply just renting. There was always something, someone, leaving a smoking hole in your chest, forcing every euphoric guest out.

I seek to cure what’s deep inside... frightened of this thing that I’ve become...

Your features twisted in agony and discomfort that accompanied the stoked episodes. It made you bitter. It threw you to the streets and dubbed you a martyr before satirically exposing, taunting at the misfortune of your dealt deck of cards. It was downright embarrassing, obtruding. Trepidations instantaneously trampled your meager, sensory overloaded form each and every time. Your bitter, corrosive laugh was all the evidence in that moment; a feeble reminder of your hypocrisy.

Because how, pray tell, does one’s physicality simultaneously experience both a revulsion for tactility and desperate craving for touch itself? You never understood exactly the way the two collided and contradicted themselves. Your teeth clamped your tongue in quelling the deprivation and plea for more rising in your throat, while your neurons worked to whisk your form as far away from the man as possible—away to the repetition of obsolete emptiness and desolation awaiting to greet you. As always.

“Let me help, cyare.” Begging... the man was hurting for you.

Don’t want to say yes, don’t want to say no...

Your mind ached. You can’t stop the pendulum in your head. Forced to look through a kaleidoscope of melancholy. Pleas echoed in a cavernous empty shell, but fell on deaf ears. Tears cancelled their appointment, and the well currently ran dry. There was... nothingness. And you fought the growing complaisance with the notion. Numbness was terrifying, and being terrified was numbing. You didn’t do well with attitudinal changes, seeking restitution more than ever while you wholly acknowledged the aspect of a ginger touch; the literal power within one’s fingertips to effectively mitigate your suffering. An opportune moment standing before you, his brows furrowed in sympathy and the corner of his lips angled in assuring you of his patience.

But the sharp pang and quick successions of staccato rhythm reverberated deep in your chest and only exaggerated your pain. Curse your heavy heart. A huff of breath incited subtle movement in the loose strands hanging over your profile, to which Hunter borrowed a moment in reaching out to sweep the curtain back.

Your head was under water, yet... you were breathing just fine. You just had yet to find the damned drain to expel the pernicious and suffocating sea of psychological terror into.

I just need to clear my head... don’t let it go to your head...

You quiver under Hunter’s intense appraisal, and shame swirls thickly. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be. Please.” He immediately interjects, his palm turns upright and opens invitingly. “I’m here. Tell me what you need.”

Just tell him what you need.

“I... I don’t know.” Your admission speaks in a whisper of loss and uncertainty. You roll the flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth, the lump returns to your throat, and it’s crawling. Your gaze flickers.

“Just focus on me, cyare.”

Another catch: you can’t maintain eye contact to save your life. Kriff your soul. “That won’t work.” Your eyes anchor to the cold floor as sheer panic and the sturdy walls themself began to rise around your trembling self.

I can’t come alive... I want the room to take me under... Feel myself fading away...

“Okay—it’s okay,” he soothes. Hunter fervently wracks his brain—the way he decompresses and approaches his own form of stimming is slightly different; it’s different for everybody with a hyperactive response to stimuli. It took the Sergeant years to cultivate those particular penchants and even longer to tailor and perfect them to his predilection. If anything, he felt slightly apprehensive in the success of his methods.

Your hands that now wrap tightly around your rigid form are currently the only familiar pair of hands granted permission to access the area. You give a brief squeeze and teeter on the balls of your feet.

Hunter didn’t require a sniper’s nonpareil eyesight to see right through your peculiarity, even if he was briefly taken aback at it’s sudden effervescing. Truthfully, he should’ve picked up on it days ago: at your fierce denial and subtle panic over Hunter’s harmless offer of a massage after you had worked out a particularly stubborn knot kinking his lower back—a simple requite of mutuality, or so he thought. At the time, the Sergeant found himself shrouded in enigma over your reaction; seriously, who—other than him who barely tolerates it—doesn’t enjoy massages? It now made perfect sense. He fought the urge to self-deprecate over his ignorance.

“I’m suffocating, Hunter.” You choke, and the cadence of your voice is like a knife twisting into his heart; he gleans vicarious pain from your own.

Clarity suddenly lights up the Sergeant’s features, and you’re briefly hyper-fixated with the way the inky but slightly faded outline of his shadowy tattoo fluctuates in natural contortion with his many facial expressions. Just behind his eyes he beholds his brothers—

‘I’m suffocating, ori’vod’...

Hunter remembers...

Of the exact way he presses against Tech in order to smother his vod’ika’s fleeting bouts of anxiousness—the pressure nearly breaking the kid’s goggles on more than one occasion, and the way he compresses Crosshair’s shoulders in squeezing out the pent up anger to placate amidst the sniper’s wavering, and the position of which Hunter managed to encompass his brawny brother in a comforting embrace whenever the big guy experienced despondency—that is until Wrecker quickly outgrew his ori’vod and began flaunting his own prowess of overpowering hugs.

The difference between the scenarios was minimal. Hunter knew exactly what to do. Like second-nature to him, his nurturing instincts fully kicked in and determination spread through every fiber of his being, quashing the previous buzz of his own nerves.

Hunter didn’t know how well he could alleviate your emotional pain, but there was something he could do for the neurological aspect, and hopefully, one could ease the other...

Hunter ambles up to you and in one swift motion, secures the length of his arms around your upper back, noting the delineate contour of toned muscles and shoulder blades poking into his forearms that now drape across before his hands encircle and come to firmly rest on each shoulder. Firmness. Pressure—for your state, this depiction is key. He determinedly pulls you to him, unrelenting in a tight grip. The position of the crown of your head settled neatly under his chin, and stray hair peppered his textured features with tickling kisses as Hunter dips his head to softly press his lips to your roots.

I wish that I could bring you back to me...

With your face suddenly buried in the man’s chest, you come to distinctly acknowledge two immediate sensations. One; the man is warm. Not the muggy, stuffy warmth of Tatooine that is unpleasantly abrasive and dry; but a soft warmth that permeates, stoking memories of baked goods within the cushion of a heated oven warmly enveloping you each time it’s doors open, and seeking to melt the hardened encasing that is your tense muscles. It eases you towards a serenity. You have a ways to go before you can make out the sign in the distance, but Hunter himself is one step forward along the path.

Two; he smells amazing. A faint smoky sultry, an obscurely mesquite scent, slightly tangy and reminiscent of raw timber that is both luxurious and intoxicating; a sweet smell you’d classify as anything but cloying. Like he bathes with suds of fresh mountain air and luscious forests. It’s soothing, and your mind immediately associates the tangibility with a daydream and mercifully blesses you with the glimpse; of your husband having just entered your cozy homestead from a day of hard but fruitful labor in his intricate works of carpentry within the serene seclusion of temperate countryside enveloping your favorite planet—

Handle with care... say you’ll be there...

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, cyare—is this okay?” Hunter momentarily shifts and the rich baritone of the Sergeant’s voice resounding through his broad chest reels you back while he briefly tenses at your pending answer.

It was okay—your head was still swimming in an infinitely deep ocean of thoughts, but the way his hand slips from it’s position on your shoulder to cradle the back of your head before curling around the soft locks equates to the physical manifestation of a life preserver cast to your drowning form.

Your muffled confirmation and sheepish thanks warmly enveloped Hunter, as did your hands shifting to wrap around his broad frame in reciprocation. His grip tightened, and he patiently waits for you.

Hold.... Hold on... Hold on to me, ‘cause I’m a little unsteady...

Hunter refrains from trailing to stroke further along your back; the sneaking suspicion that the sensation might further tip off your nerves. So he remained stationary, and deciphered the way you seemingly favored a firm, weighted grasp and a grounding touch over ghosting fingertips and light, feathery textures. He could relate to that.

But Hunter couldn’t stop the hum of contentment that escaped his lips at your fingers having absentmindedly wandered up to twirl at his ebony tresses. He, personally, loved your soft, well-placed strokes full of deliberation and meaning, and only you were allowed to grace him with them.

Hunter could feel your heart hammering against the veil of his blacks, and his ears hearkened to the rhythm of your burdened breaths. He shifted his weight and began to gently sway with you, unsure of the words to say.

“I should’ve told you earlier,” your conscience suddenly prods.

A snort fills the air. “Oh, I would’ve figured it out soon enough. I’m kinda smart like that,” Hunter cringes at his corny sense of humor, but he swore the faintest of chortles rumbled beneath him.

He grants a final squeeze to your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive areas along your arms, before pulling back to address your face. Trouble and distress still graced you, and Hunter laced his fingers with your own. He thumbed at the worn flesh encasing your defined knuckles, a relic indicative of steadfast manual labor. You slowly exhaled at the touch; pressure along the palms and backside of your hands was soothing to you. You often wrung them to keep preoccupied when there was no warmth to solidify the muscle, fingertips drummed erratic tempos along your thighs whenever the mood struck, and loud cracking of the stiff joints in transient tics was a regularly becoming thing.

Take me by the hand, take me somewhere new...

Hunter tugged lightly in ushering you to the cot, firmly planting himself on the worn, creaking edge before his gaze met yours in awaiting approval. If he blinked, he would’ve missed the barely perceptible nod of your head in confirmation. Hunter leaned back on his full weight in gesturing you with him, and your form followed suit as you found yourself abruptly layered directly atop the rugged plains of his chest. The quirk of his lips told you he didn’t mind being used as a body pillow. Hunter’s arms suddenly turned up empty to rest above his head.

“I want you to be comfortable. No brushing. Just tell me where to put my hands.” He clarified, and appreciation bubbled in your chest. You contemplated for a moment.

“Just... hold me close.” You began to guide his hands to the exact position. “Please.”

His limbs obeyed by wrapping snugly as a hand found rest at the small of your back, and the other nestled itself slightly higher up the expanse, fingers splayed. Hunter solidified the closed space, and not even a muted ray of light could pass between the two forms.

You found solace within the cage of well-endowed muscle, slowly suppressing your nerves on each side and physically shielding you from the works of mental oppression. But his touch left you hyperaware; from an overtly suffocating insecurity towards every part of your body now lingering against his own, to the precise and tranquil thrum of his heartbeat in contrast with your racing one. Your stimuli sparks again in response to the stress.

“Y/N.” Hunter cuts through your tension, his voice laced with concern—you cannot calm yourself down, and you’re certain your mind absolutely loathes you. “Everything will be alright, I promise—don’t tense up, baby. Relax against me.” You angle your head so that one side of your face plants to his chest; you wish to better hear his sturdy heartbeat. You suddenly remember your own. It’s still beating. Resounding; indicative of purpose. Your breaths; symbolizing life.

Just keep breathing... my air...

“That’s it. Just breathe.” Hunter encourages. He reaches up to press against your temple in stroking at the hairline. Unbound locks cascaded around each other, a mixture of two colors softly tangled on either sides of the furniture. You lost count of your numbered breaths in the midst of solitude when a question unveils from your thoughts.

“How do you do it?” Your words trump the stagnant silence, a desperate inquiry that peaks through the fibers. You tilt your chin to better regard the man.

Confusion tugs at the corner of Hunter’s lips. “Do, what?”

“Anything...” you unload, and there’s a crackle to your voice. “The stress, the sensory... how do you manage? What’s your anchor in this wretched, kriffing life?”

A smile creeps up Hunter’s features, and his deep, reflective pools burn through you. “I’m looking at my anchor. And she helps me manage just fine.”

Your eyes blow protuberant and you manage to stare at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Honey, you are it.” His satisfied smirk grows wider, digging into his cheeks.

Something twitches at the corners of your lip and pulls into an upward curve; the feeling is tight, foreign. Your cheek muscles are unsure of how to compensate for the expression. You can’t remember the last time a smile has naturally graced your features. Now, it’s genuine. It’s... nice, and the hot rivulets currently streaming down your face are in a unanimous agreement.

Hunter moves to cup your face and thumb below your eyes, and his lips kiss the salt away. You grab hold of his forearms and shut your eyes.

“You want to know how I manage?” He croons in determination, “When my visual is overstimulated, I close my eyes and focus on the features of your face ingrained in my memory. When certain auditory has me weak at the knees, I remember the lull of your voice, comforting. When my nerves are on fire and I want nothing more than to be physically desensitized, it’s your soft touch that acts as a blanket, covering, making it easier for me. You make it better. Me better. Life better.” Hunter finishes his declaration in lovingly swiping at your face once more, expunging your pain. Words make a prompt exit along with it.

Your lips find purchase at the stubble along his jaw, in response. You love being able to fully make out the intricacy of his irises, now that you’re lovingly gazing into them. When you exit your captivated trance—his eyes are beautiful—you vaguely note with a twinge of pride that the encounter was indefinitely your longest standing record for maintaining eye contact. Another gentle smile fills your features. You remove your weight from him.

“Take this off?” You shyly tug at the collar of his blacks, seeking his consent, respectful of his own sensory receptors and their boundaries.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hunter sits to quickly shed the upper article of clothing. He pulls you on top once again, and you are relishing in his bare skin. Your fingers map out a path of their own volition along the various textures and scars dotting the pectoral flesh.

“You never told me what you were thinking about earlier,” Hunter nonchalantly called you out. Your brows furrow in confusion. “There was something different on your face when I first held you. Just a flicker. But you looked... happy. Content, even.” Hunter smirked. “Hope you’re not planning to keep all that happiness to yourself.”

You certainly weren’t planning to. You recalled the picturesque and beckoned it forth... there was your sign of serenity. Just the shape of it, but solid, and clear. Hopeful, and promising, just on the horizon. It made your chest flutter, and ebbed away at the heartache. You realized Hunter’s brow arched in anticipation.

“How would you feel about working in carpentry?” A chuckle. Hunter was thoroughly humored, and surprisal was briefly evident on his features.

“So I can build you and I a house? To fill a bunch of babies with? Gladly.” He chased the daydream alongside you, and it was your turn to borrow the surprise; your mouth hung agape as heat crept through the apples of your cheeks. Hunter’s laugh boomed as a hand fit under your chin to close your parted lips. He wished to use his own to do the trick, but, another time.

“I’m with you.”

#The Bad Batch #Hunter #Hunter X Self #I don’t know what to tag this as.#I just want to be comforted by Hunter #oop I may be sobbing now #but it... feels better #it’s a Lil thing

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lustresky · 4 years

Text

all i ask [peter parker x f!reader]

summary: You question your true feelings for Peter after missing out on five years of your life.

wc: 2400ish.

themes: angst(ish), fluff, happy endings, best friends to lovers trope, mention of dermatillomania, existential questionings...

a/n: this is the first x reader that i have ever written, so sorry in advance if it’s awkward:’’’) english also isn’t my first language, so please do hit me up if i make any mistakes/some things sound wrong! still, i hope that some of you out there will still like this lil thing. i just want to keep peter in my pocket gawd what a bby:’’’’’’’( p.s. title is a song by adele! just had to name this that cuz it unexpectedly came into my playlist while i was writing this and the song just fit so well that it shocked me haha

requests are open! & pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! c:

THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER ENDGAME, RIGHT BEFORE FFH. IT EXCLUDES THE LOVE STORY BETWEEN LIZ & PETER IN HOMECOMING.

available on ao3.

The rom-com flickered on the screen in front of your and Peter’s eyes, the only light illuminating the small living room.

Your legs were sprawled on top of Peter’s own, your arms becoming a bit numb from the fact that you haven’t moved them from their cramp inducing position for the past fifteen minutes. It wasn’t your fault— the small sofa could only leave you and Peter enough space to lounge about.

He had invited you over for some much needed “hang out” time. Considering the fact that both of you had missed out on five years of your life, you had suggested you both catch up on all of the movies the two of you had missed; but one thing led to another and now you were both watching late 90’s and early 2000’s films.

You were surprised, and maybe even mildly offended, when Peter had said that he had never watched Mean Girls nor Clueless. The boy who spew out pop comic references every other second had never watched the classics for every teenage girl? The blasphemy!

You fiddled with the fluffy throw covering your legs and partially, Peter’s. Your attention wasn’t really on the movie anymore, you’d seen it multiple times. Could probably recite it by heart, you thought, if you concentrated hard enough.

Speaking of concentration, your eyes inadvertently found their spot upon Peter’s face. It was quite funny, and maybe even adorable if you wanted to go that way, how concentrated the geeky boy was over such a cliché film. You had never once thought, with all of the years that you had known him, that he would listen and take Cher Horowitz’s words to heart.

Peter didn’t notice your gaze, and so you took that as an unspoken permission to roam your eyes over his features: the small lines already appearing beside his eyes, a tell-tale sign of how much he smiled— or at least, tried to, these days. There were those chiseled cheeks and the sharp jawline that he somehow managed to maintain despite eating delivery food every other day. (You can’t blame May, she tries her best, really; but sometimes Thai or Chinese is just way more palatable.) His nose, a bit crooked, from an ”accident.“ (You still don’t really know the exact details about that one, and frankly, you think it would hurt just hearing about it.) Soft curls of his brown hair fell over his forehead, messy and barely brushed.

Truly, you could probably spend a whole hour just staring at him. It’s weird, you know, who the hell stares at their own best friend for long periods of time? Well, MJ probably does, but then again she draws people most of the time so that’s socially allowed... and well— she’s MJ. She just… does that. You suppose.

Maybe she does have a point, you mused. People-watching seemed fun, seeing the way that people processed information was interesting, but you couldn’t really imagine doing that to anyone— anyone else but Peter, at least.

You loved Peter. It wasn’t even a question. Truly, you did— he was family. However, after the Snap, you started to question how you truly felt about him.

Did you ‘love’ him? You had asked yourself that question multiple times already. Then again, he was cute, goal-oriented, stubborn, loyal, smart, geeky, strong... (not just physically, between his difficult childhood and what you both had just gone through, you think that he may just be the strongest person that you know, mentally.) He knew how to make you laugh, how to make you feel safe… God, he was your exact type.

However, you had always put your feelings aside ever since you came back from the dead. What if it was just your mind craving for affection, afraid that you would never be able to experience the love that you had always wanted? Were you just terrified of the thought of not living your life to the fullest, that you started to ’love’ the first person to have ever given you warmth, just because the choice to do so was taken away from you?

Did you actually love him in that way? Would you still have loved him in that way, even if that purple fucking raisin didn’t come out of the fucking sky and take you both away from reality without even asking? Were you just blindsided? Were you wearing rose-coloured glasses?

What type of love for him did you feel, exactly?

It didn’t really help that Peter was way more clingy and touchy now. Sure, you were best friends even before then, but you never really touched each other so often before. His actions only further spiraled your pondering.

His hands seemed to linger more on your shoulders, nowadays. Now, he would, absentmindedly, lay his hands on your thighs while you were talking. Now, his hugs were tighter, warmer, and always included both of his arms— unlike those casual, one armed hugs that you would give each other while saying goodbye after school, right before you both ceased existing.

While talking, his eyes seemed to stare straight into yours, which always made you falter with your words before you shook his gaze off. Once, you saw him fixating his eyes on your lips while you vented to him about a mathematical formula that gave you a hard time.

He never really did that before— whenever you didn’t understand something, he would always just give you a small grin before shaking his head and finding a way to better explain the topic to you. At first, you thought that maybe he just had a lot on his mind, that he was just staring into space…

Or maybe, just maybe, he loved you. In that way.

Though, now that you thought more about it, maybe he just craved affection like you did. He went through a lot. His life was never devoid of danger, and it wasn’t questionable to want comfort after all of the things that he had gone through. Did he truly feel that way about you, or did he only see you as a comfort tool? You wouldn’t be angry if he did, out of all the people that you knew that deserved more reassurance and love, he was definitely on top of the list.

You didn’t mind. You understood.

Was he in the same boat as you?

You startled yourself away from your thoughts when Peter suddenly retracted his body further back into the couch, as if he wanted to bury himself in it. His brows were furrowed, nose scrunched, lips curled up in disgust; though to your relief his eyes were still glued to the screen and he hadn’t just seen you checking him out. You chuckled at the unexpected reaction, “What’s gotten you so worked up?”

Peter shook his head from side to side, as if that would help him from his current situation. “I get that they aren’t really related, but it’s just— weird.” He replied.

Intrigued, you shifted your eyes over to the screen, and was welcomed by Cher and Josh kissing. You laughed at Peter’s disgust.

“How is it weird? They’ve had— like, very evident tension for half of the movie, Pete.” You replied, eyes watching the way Josh held Cher’s face in his hands. As much as you would never admit it, your stomach fluttered at the scene. “Don’t tell me you didn’t expect it to happen.”

Peter groaned. “It’s not that I didn’t expect it to happen, it’s just— Josh is what, almost twenty or something? And Cher is our age!” He rattled off. “I’m having flashbacks to when I learned that Luke and Leia were actually related.”

You shook your head and let out a snort. Typical Peter, always finding a way to reference Star Wars.

“It’s just a lil’ kiss scene Pete, don’t get so worked up about it.” You chuckled. You let out a dreamy sigh, your lip unknowingly curling into a small smile. Truth be told, you've always wanted something so passionate yet so soft like that to happen to you.

You couldn’t help but let the next words tumble out of your mouth. “Isn’t it romantic though? The fact that the person that Cher has been searching and looking for so hard was actually just right there.”

“Always there…” Your voice slowly found itself becoming quieter, until it was only a ghost of a whisper. “Right by your side.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. What the fuck was all that sudden sentimental bullshit, Y/N? You thought to yourself.

You hoped that Peter just didn’t pick up on what you had just said. The movie was loud enough to cover it, right?

With a reassuring breath, mostly to yourself, you turned your gaze back to Peter’s face.

Only to find him staring back at you.

Fuck, what were you thinking? With his enhanced senses, of course he would’ve heard what you had said.

Your breath got caught in your throat as your brain almost short circuited from the unexpected eye contact. His stare was unrelenting; from the dim light of the television, you can see his dilated irises, swimming with what you can only assume was longing… and hope.

The air suddenly seemed thick with tension. What kind it was? You weren’t really sure, but the movie and its noises were now just background noise and lighting. From the corner of your eyes, you see Peter’s Adam apple bob up and down as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Y/N…” He started, slowly, seemingly unsure of how to word his sentence. You mustered up a small bit of courage and sent him a small smile, patiently waiting for his brain to catch up with his mouth. It was one of his quirks that you adored so much, how much he struggled with the right words to say, because he knew the gravity of them; even if he did end up just spewing them out in the end.

“I— I don’t really know how to say this exactly, but,” Peter chewed on his bottom lip. “God I just— I just need to man up and say it because it’s been on my mind ever since I came back and I don’t think I can put it off any longer because I’m scared that you’ll disappear again and that I’ll never have the chance to say the truth and I—“ He stopped in his tracks, seemingly running out of words to say. His head dropped to look at his lap, as he started fidgeting with his hands and picking at his cuticles. A nervous tick that you recognized.

You straightened up from your lounging position, and slowly reached out your arms to lay your own hands on top of his, effectively gaining his attention and stopping his quite destructive habit. Bit by bit, he faced you once more; albeit now his eyes seemed to be more glassy.

“Y/N,” He took a shaky breath. “You— you mean so much to me.“ His eyes stared straight through you, and by now you felt your eyes start getting teary too.

“When it was happening I— all I could think about was how I felt about you. I— I felt so fucking selfish. I didn’t even think about Aunt May— or Ned, or MJ. All I thought about was how much I regretted not telling you how I actually felt about you sooner— that I’ll never be able to tell you how much I actually fucking loved you—“

Instinctively, you cut him off with your index placed on his lips. Now it was your turn to let out a shaky breath as your hand descended and found itself laying once more on Peter’s own.

Peter loved you. Even before the snap. Even before you disappeared.

The sight of Peter in front of you: vulnerable, hair ruffled, cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears red, his eyes watering as he poured his heart out to you was the moment that answered all of your doubts from before.

That was when you realized that you loved him, too. Truly. Without a doubt.

You loved him before everything went to hell, you still love him now, and fuck, you would still love him even if you hadn’t died. You weren’t wearing rose-coloured glasses, hell, far from it. You were seeing everything clearly. You were seeing everything just the way that they are.

You opened your lips, and a strangled but genuine giggle came out. “Pete, I love you too. I’ve loved you since— fuck, I can’t even remember when I actually started fucking loving you. You’ve been such a constant in my life that I questioned myself whether I truly loved you romantically, because I’m also a fucking idiot that thought that the type of love that I had for you was only platonic. Turns out they’re both one and the same.” You were laughing now, with a few hiccups here and there from the hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

“And shut up— you aren’t selfish,” With a new wave of courage, you lifted up one of your hands again and cradled his face. He leaned into it, impulsively, sniffling. “You’re one of the most selfless people that I know, hell, you put yourself in danger for people that you don’t even fucking know. I… I honestly think you could use more selfishness sometimes.” You laughed, softly, trying to regain a bit more composure with the tidal wave of emotions washing through you.

Peter, thankfully, found your quip funny. He snorted, shaking his head, as he lifted the sleeve of his Midtown Tech hoodie up to wipe at his tears. He wiped yours too, and you thanked him with a genuine smile.

All hearts now bared, you both just stared at each other, not really knowing what else to say nor do. From what you could tell, the movie was over now, the ending scene just slowly rolling in as it always does.

You opened your mouth, about to break the silence, when Peter beat you to it.

“Can I kiss you?”

A chuckle escaped your mouth before you could reply properly, and a huge grin overtook your face as your cheeks heated up once more. You squeezed his hands, and nodded.

Peter leaned in, and you had never felt more at peace.

#lily’s lil’ stories #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #fanfic #ff #x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #spiderman #spiderman x reader #one shot #angst #best friends to lovers #fluff #subtle (not really) movie references #existential musings #pete n reader's been thru a lot ok:(

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the-wlw-cafe · 3 years

Text

[E]nnui - a 2BA2 fanfic

Warnings: Self-harm, self-destructive behaviour, heavily implied suicidal ideation - there’s comfort in there too I swear!

Read it on ao3 here!

Another piece of her skin had come loose near her hips. It had to have happened a while ago, judging by the dust and dirt clinging to the adhesive on its underside. She hadn’t noticed it back then, being occupied with fighting for her life, the misery, the toil and pain and the war . But now, after the end of it all? Nothing would take her mind off it. She’d catch herself absent-mindedly tugging at the loose piece every now and then, or rather, Pod would catch her and admonish her in his usual robotic manner.

Alert: Continuing to irritate the area will cause further damage to unit A2. Proposal: Stop.

And he was right, of course, but that just made her want to throw a brick at him all the more.

(She also hadn’t noticed when she’d switched to referring to Pod as he instead of it, but he didn’t call attention to the change and she’d rather die than admit she th ought of him as anything but an annoyance.)

Well, Pod wasn’t here now. Being assigned to two units, he usually split his time between monitoring 2B and herself, or sometimes the pods just headed out by themselves to do God knows what. Maybe there was a part of A2 that wondered what they were up to, a part of her that might have been curious enough to ask about it lifetimes ago, but now? The task of having to ask and listen to a reply seemed insurmountable.

Shit, she really needed to trash something. Before, whenever such thoughts threatened to overtake her, she’d simply pick a fight with the first machine she saw, rinse and repeat until she was too exhausted to continue on or move or even think. But of course even that was taken from her as the machines were gone now. Not physically gone, of course, they were still dotted throughout the landscape, but they were empty. Just vacant shells, unmoving, staring off into space.

“They’re among the stars now”, 9S had said, as if that would explain anything. A2 hadn’t had the energy to ask for clarification. They kept their distance from each other anyway, since being in the other android’s presence dredged up emotions and red hot flashes of pain pain pain she no longer had a release for.

The sound of tools scraping and metal being torn and bent drifted to her from way down below. She came up here often now, to the window where she’d first awoken again. It was a long way down, and not for the first time she wondered whether the pods had placed her there intentionally. A second chance, and an easy way to refuse the gift. Again and again she found herself drawn to this spot, looking down until the instincts she was programmed with to keep her body safe flooded her system with dizziness that forced her to back away from the window. She used to feel so far away from everything here, but apparently, the real world had forced itself even into this space. The resistance had begun scrapping the empty machines down for parts, and even though she’d tried to help them initially just to have something to do, once she was actually faced with one of the shells, still faintly whirring with the machinery still ticking away in the rusty chassis but at the same time nothing going on inside, she felt like vomiting. An echo of the time she’d shared a mind with 2B, she supposed, she’d looked into the machine’s unseeing eyes and seen Pascal, seen the children, and she just couldn’t…

With an abrupt sting of pain she realized she’d been doing it again, finding that loose piece of skin and mindlessly tugging, only this time, Pod wasn’t here to tell her off. She gritted her teeth against the sting and began pulling, watching with an almost morbid fascination as the skin peeled to reveal more of the black exoskeleton underneath –

“Stop that.”

The sudden interruption startled A2 enough to actually obey, letting go of the abused patch of skin as if it had burned her. She turned towards the newcomer, one hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her sword she no longer had a use for. She relaxed incrementally when she found that it was 2B who’d snuck up on her, her hand uselessly coming to rest at her side. She wasn’t at ease, she figured she hadn’t been at ease since the day she was fabricated, but something about the combat model seemed to calm her – a sentiment she would have laughed at weeks ago, given the many times 2B had been sent to execute her only for A2 to destroy her again and again, each time coming closer and closer to defeat as 2B profited from combat experience while her own body degraded. But there was no way of sharing a mind, memories and decades of pain with another person without retaining some familiarity after the fact.

It was difficult to see the unfiltered version of 2B she’d experienced through her memories in the carefully schooled expression of the android in front of her. The version A2 had experienced loved fiercely, cared deeply, and was hurt beyond measure, but the 2B she saw now let almost none of that show. Calm, collected. The very model of a YoRHa executioner. A2 didn’t have to ask why 2B still saw the need to guard her expression so thoroughly. After all, it was the same reason why A2 cleaned and sharpened her weapons every day with more care than she’d ever afforded her own body, or why 9S had taken to painstakingly record ing all of his memory, each minute detail of e very day he experienced with pen and paper and was keeping this treasury of memories hidden under his pillow.

“You need maintenance”, 2B stated, taking tentative steps closer and, when A2 didn’t object, sat down beside her. She didn’t look at her, instead fixating on some point in the distance, beyond the grey husks of concrete buildings leaning heavily against each other, as if they might collapse at any moment. Her voice betrayed no emotion, but the faint golden glow of the lunar tear tucked neatly above her ear said otherwise, said it’d suit your stylish looks, said thank you for the flowers, said desert roses are beautiful, aren’t they. The grief A2 felt upon these echoes flashing through her mind might as well have been her own. They’d both lost so, so many people, and yet they were still here, alive even after having literally died. It was almost funny. Almost.

“Nah, I’ll be fine”, A2 said, “I’ve survived this long even with machines looking to destroy me at every turn, I won’t fall apart now.”

2B made a non-committal sound, and a long stretch of silence followed. A2 had to stifle an irrational urge to laugh, because for two people who literally had their minds melded at some point, they sure were bad at communicating. But the silence continued, gaping, deafening, and a strange anxiety rose in A2, a compulsion to fill it with something, anything, even though she knew that no words could ever do justice to the things she longed to express, the things that bubbled and churned inside her like a vile acid she needed to expel.

“I miss it.”

A2 was almost surprised that she had spoken. She might have been inclined to believe it was a hallucination caused by one of the many glitches she’d contracted over decades of neglect of maintenance, if 2B hadn’t turned to look at her, head slightly inclined to the side, encouraging her to go on.

Well, shit. The rat was out of the bag now, or whatever the humans used to say, so there was no point in backing down. A2 leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh, craning her neck to stare at the webbing of cracks along the ceiling, because making herself vulnerable was hard enough without looking into 2B’s face and seeing whatever pity or disdain she might be too slow to hide.

“I mean, the fighting. Always being on the move. Never having a moment of quiet, never having a moment alone with your own thoughts. I was so busy surviving that I didn’t have the time to ask myself why I was surviving in the first place. I think it was spite, mainly”, she added with a mirthless chuckle that sounded hollow in the empty room. “But now, with YoRHa gone and the war over, there’s nobody left to spite, and that leaves me with…”

She didn’t voice the nothing that was on the tip of her tongue, but it hung over them like a heavy, suffocating blanket nonetheless. Truly, how selfish was she, to prefer the never-ending suffering of the war over this peace, this chance for Anemone and her people to build something new, something substantial. She didn’t dare to open her eyes and face whatever 2B must be thinking of her, and this was new too: She cared now, cared what others thought of her, because now she ha d people with opinions to care about.

And yet, the silence continued, the tension reaching a fever pitch until A2 could be ar it no longer. She braced herself and turned to face the combat model once more, no matter what she –

Oh.

2B’s gaze was trained on the horizon once more, but she’d placed a gloved hand over A2’s own, her thumb rubbing comforting circles over the exposed exoskeleton.

A2’s core temperature spiked with embarrassment as she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I…I can’t actually feel that, sorry”, she huffed. “I don’t know how it is with you newer models, but my more delicate sensors were located directly under my outer skin and I lost that ages ago. So, yeah, it’s gonna take nothing short of shoving my hand between two moving gears to actually generate some feedback.”

“Oh. I’m…sorry”, 2B murmured, removing her hand to clench it in her lap in a demure gesture that was so unlike her it made A2 feel even worse. She’d never felt self-conscious about the state of her body before. She’d been frustrated, sure, when she found her capabilities steadily decreasing the more time she spent on the run, but she’d never felt so outright ashamed that she could hear her black box whirring in her ears, but now that her deficiencies had been brought into such stark contrast against 2B, perfect, pristine 2B -

“A2.”

2B’s firm voice pulled the attacker model out of her spiralling thoughts. 2B’s eyes were focused on the spot on her hip where she’d been subconsciously scratching at the loose patch of skin again. A2 clenched her blackened fingers into a fist, fighting against the overpowering compulsion to just rip it.

“You need maintenance”, 2B repeated, with more insistence than the first time.

“Are you still on about that?” A2 groaned, running a hand through her hair.

“You’re literally coming apart at the seams!” 2B hissed, and there was fervour there, a real concern.

“Don’t I know it”, A2 said, throwing her head back and barking out a laugh that was devoid of any happiness. She just wanted this conversation to be over, she wanted 2B to stop wasting her concern on her, she just…wanted everything to stop.

Another pause, and then…a sensation, a touch, ever so lightly, ever so softly, a pair of lips against her cheek. The contact lasted a second at the most, before 2B pulled back an inch, her face still so close that A2 could feel her breath ghosting over her skin as she spoke her next words.

“Can you feel this?”

A2 didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to, not when the staccato beat of her pulse and the stuttering of her breath spoke volumes. 2B slid closer to her now, sitting directly next to her so close close close that their thighs were touching and A2 could feel it and shit, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched with care, like she mattered, like she deserved any of it. Pressure was building in her throat and she clenched her fist tighter until she could hear the joints of her fingers cracking. And still, she leaned into the contact, closed her eyes and held onto that moment while it lasted.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing”, 2B said quietly. A2 couldn’t guess how much time had passed, how long they’d simply been leaning against each other.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, A2 lied without any conviction. She had no doubt 2B would be looking right through her.

“Refusing maintenance. Coming up here every day.”

A2 opened her eyes as an errant breeze blew in through the window. She squinted against it. It was a long way down.

“Anemone is worried about you. I – we all are.”

“Well, you’re wasting your time”, A2 bit out, her voice tight against that god-damn lump in her throat. Too much, it was all too much. She had to go, go…somewhere, anywhere. Away. Away from people who looked at her, saw right through her, right down to the very core of her as if she was made of glass. She made a motion to get up, but 2B grabbed her wrist and tugged her down harshly.

“A2, you deserve to be cared for.” 2B’s voice was still so quiet, but as unyielding as the concrete beneath them. “You deserve this”, she said, one hand coming to rest against A2’s cheek. The touch was nothing but gentle, and yet it felt scalding. She batted it away.

“You of all people should know how it feels. We’ve killed, more times than we could count, more times than can ever be forgiven, it’s the only thing we were made for and the only thing we’re actually good at, and you’re telling me I deserve anything?”

2B shrunk back as if she’d struck her, and immediately a cold wave of guilt washed over A2 and settled deep and heavy in her core. She knew 2B, she could still feel the disgust and self-hatred emanating off of her whenever A2 had addressed her as 2E, they’d shared the pain of killing her closest friend over and over and over again. A2 reached out, to touch 2B, to hold her perhaps, but she thought better of it. She wasn’t made for gentleness. Everything she touched fell apart.

“I’m sorry”, she mumbled, her words falling pathetically short.

“Appreciated”, 2B said through gritted teeth, her fingers clenched into the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles were turning white. She was close enough to touch, and yet they were miles apart. A2 had broken them miles apart. She had broken them apart, and she had no idea how to fix this divide. She wasn’t made for fixing.

“Shit, 2B, that was a fucked up thing to say to you, I’m-”

2B silenced her laughable attempts with a single, stiff wave or her hand.

“You’re right.”

A2 immediately opened her mouth to protest, to silence whatever nonsense she’d put in the combat model’s head, but then she met her eyes, cold steel blue more fiery than ever, and any words she might have said wither ed on her tongue. She was fixed to the spot, unmoving.

“And if we really are one and the same, A2, then you’ll understand why I can’t bear another death.”

It was too much, it was far too intimate. A2’s first instinct was to deflect, this was her they were talking about, she’d hardly be missed by anyone, having outlived almost all who might at some point have cared about her. And 2B, especially 2B, whom she’d killed dozens of times…

Unbidden, the ugliest memories reared their head, flashes of deep, oozing slashes in 2B’s body as her teammates stumble over themselves in retreat, flashes of loosing herself in B-Mode when she couldn’t keep up with her opponent anymore, only coming to again when her form was beaten, bloodied and almost unrecognizable. The same nausea she’d felt when asked to dismantle the machine husks rose in her again, that feeling of wrong wrong wrong and she couldn’t stomach it, not even the thought of it…

This time, she caught herself. Her hand halfway to her hip, she froze, biting her lip to distract from the urge to just tear at pieces of herself. 2B noticed, of course she noticed, placing a hand over the damaged area. It was tender, and though every fibre of her being cried out that she didn’t deserve it she didn’t deserve it she didn’t deserve it she swallowed them down. Laid her hand atop 2B’s. Threaded their fingers together.

She watched 2B fail to hide a soft gasp, and it made something within her lurch in delight. She gave 2B’s hand a gentle squeeze, wishing now more than ever to be able to feel the warmth of her hand radiating through the smooth satin glove.

It was a stupid reason. It was as good as any other.

She allowed herself to rest in this moment for a few seconds longer, then she slowly rose to her feet, groaning under the aching of her stiff joints. How long had she been up here?

“Come on, let’s head back before Anemone sends out a search party”, she said, pulling 2B upright, and when she was standing, A2 was struck to the core when she saw her smile. It was a subtle, understated thing, barely even visible, but shit, if she could make 2B smile like that one more time she knew she’d be worth something more than the scrap metal she was made of.

She took one last look out of the window over her shoulder. She could barely stomach it – it was such a long, long way down.

Feeling 2B’s hand in hers.

Making her smile.

They were better reasons than spite, she decided.

#nier #nier automata #a2 #2b #working title of this fic was freddie projects their depression onto robots

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nera789 · 4 years

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Unforeseen Consequences

Admiral ZEX, The Captain, Dax

Suggestive themes but no “details”. (Not my kind of writing lol)

I’m really. not sure why my brain fixated on writing this. I was introduced to Star Control and Admiral ZEX by @zarla-s (hopefully this tag isn’t bothersome?). I was in the process of introducing him to some friends and it spurred the thought: Would ZEX even expect a human to respond positively to his advances? He’s probably gotten pretty articulate with deflecting rejection and criticism and judgement, but what if that wasn’t the case for once? How well would he handle it?

I apologize for however out of character or Not Canon this may be, but it was a thought that wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it down. And then after I started it, it got away from me. Its been a long, long time since I’ve wrote a fanfic whoo boy

I think I wrote this with the presumption of how it would take place if you could romance him in the game, and the consequences (for everyone) of that XD

“The scope of our relationship can grow as close as you wish.” Zex said with a foreign body language of bravado.

The Captain regarded him for a moment before leaning forward into the Admiral’s personal space, a grin pulling at the corner of their lips. “Oh? Close…how~….?”

Zex sputtered, caught off guard and overwhelmed by the human’s sudden, unexpected close proximity. A human had never so much as dared to tread within a couple feet of him, much less ever enough to feel their breath. He had grown rather bold with this certainty. Perhaps a measure of that was his own doing– intentionally or not, his forthright tendencies wedging itself in between any opportunity. Being turned away, shrugged off or kept at a distance was the standard order of things. It was easy. It was predictable. And it had been so long, he never really expected that standard to be challenged. Needless to say, this threw him off.

Even still, he may have been a hopeless romantic, but he was no fool. He was aware of what the human stood to gain by winning him over. Manipulating him just to secure his military genius was low– but with a suspicious lack of human behavior like this ever before– not unheard of. He regained a brittle amount of composure, steeling over his words to obscure it. “Captain. If you intend to taunt me please do so in the way I am accustomed. I’ve hardened to the ridicule of my countrymen but faking interest in me is a different manner of cruel. If all you wish is for an alliance I am happy to oblige without the exploitation of my…weakness.”

The Captain challenged his words and moved a little closer, resting a relaxed arm on the admiral’s desk and shrugged. “I’m not faking, Zex.”

The admiral stared at it, then up at the captain when they said his name informally. Anyone else he may have corrected, but there was a warmth to it from the human that he so badly wanted to indulge. He had to confess, he had fantasized about similar circumstances and how he would conduct himself, but now that it was actual happening, he froze. He was usually so articulate but words escaped him, he was usually so well composed but this human had a way with disrupting it like a house of cards. As much as it currently worked against him, it was new to him. Exciting.

Reality began to sink in when the human didn’t recoil their appendage away, instead looked at him expectantly for a response. The gesture wasn’t an error. It was intentional. Even despite their lack of tendrils, humans had such a way with expressing emotion. It was one of the things he loved most about them. This one was a challenge to read, but everything he could gather from them seemed genuine. Which meant…

He struggled for a moment, realizing the position he had put himself in before laughing nervously. “Would you look at this? The first time a human reciprocates interest and even I succumb to a measure of my people’s distrust. You must forgive me, Captain. It has been a long time…” The admiral seemed to fight with some kind of internal conflict for a moment before the human settled it for him.

They reached out, dexterous fingers closing over his arm tendril in a comforting gesture. Their hand was warm, far warmer to the touch than he anticipated.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Before the admiral could speak, the human was standing. And before he could ask if he had done something wrong, they were on his side of the desk.

A lot of things began to happen at once, and he opposed none of them.

“Zex?” The human asked, pulling on their robes not a moment before the admiral could take in one last look at their beautifully crafted anatomy akin to a living, breathing sculpture. They truly were a unique work of art forged from the galaxy and experiencing them so up close was a privilege. The captain’s question was what pulled him out of his trance.

“Mmm?”The human studied the quiet planet outside from the window. Pensive observation stirred a thought that pricked the edge of their brow. They had such a world of emotion hidden behind subtle changes in their features. But interpretation was a different story.

“How much do you actually know about humans?”

It was a good thing VUX couldn’t blush.

“Admittedly, Captain, much more now than I did an hour ago.”

The human gave a kind but cheeky grin, looking down as if it helped them compose their words differently. Their “smile” as it were, had been toothy and startling when he first witnessed it. It contradicted what he otherwise should have interpreted as some kind of feral threat display. This was so very different. It was tender and warm, and it melted a part of him he didn’t know existed. Since then, he had been compelled to incite it as often as he could. They seemed to respond best with his banter and advances, which was a pleasure in and of its own.

“I’m serious. Be honest.”

The admiral thought for a moment.

“I know that your people are beautiful. And very clever. And resourceful. I know you are a uniquely hardy species. I’ve heard the stories of your people surviving conditions that would have easily killed others by shock alone. As I’m sure you know by now, my countrymen do not share my appreciation. They think you grotesque.”

“What else have they said about us?”

“They may have mentioned that you are stubborn. And reckless.”

“Do you believe them?”

“….I am beginning to consider it.”

“Perhaps you should.”

There was a pause.

“Why do you ask me this now?”

The Captain was quiet momentarily, but returned to Zex. Perhaps it was touch starvation, but he hadn’t realized how much he craved it until the captain returned to settling a hand against what equated to his own. They didn’t make eye contact just yet.

“The Ur Quan enslaved my people. What’s left of them.”

“Oh. Oh, dear. I was not aware. I am sorry, perhaps I’ve lived in isolation longer than I thought. I suppose that explains the lack of human visitors.” The gears began to turn. “But you arrived here in an armed starship. You weren’t given clearance to leave either, were you? You cannot be planning what I think you are planning. Captain, resisting the Ur Quan is madness.”

“And my visit here is a direct violation to your people’s alliance with the Ur Quan. I suppose if nothing else, reputation is accurate.” The human sighed. “You mentioned an alliance but I can’t expect that of you. You would be labeled a traitor. Your people already have enough reason to kill you without my interference as it is.”

“I am not attached to this planet, Captain. Nor interaction with my people, unfortunately.”

“If you think VUX are bigoted, you’ve not met enough humans.”

“How do you mean?”

“My peoples’ entire history is built on conflict and persecution. Our biggest challenge has always been coexisting with eachother. It’s a harsh lense to see it through, but that in mind it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to come with me either. Even if we do win the war, your help or not, life on Earth afterward would never be peaceful. They’ve done far more to their own people over far less. They’d tear you apart.”

“You’re suggesting this shouldn’t last.”

“I’m suggesting that we consider everything involved before this gets complicated.”

The admiral was quiet for a moment in thought. The human brought up a lot of good points, much to his displeasure. But that wasn’t going to deter him so easily.

“While I must commend the forethought, you are forgetting that tactical improvisation in dangerous situations is my specialty. Besides, this planet has always been more of a prison than a place of retirement—no matter how they attempted to sell it me. I saw through it. The whole reason I am here, Captain, is because I refused to be someone I am not. I can assure you. I would rather pursue an opportunity for a life worth living and the one that I want, however that is defined, than to live out my days rotting on this planet in fear. It would simply go against everything I stand for. I would join you on your travels… if you’d have me.”

The human sighed realizing he likely wasn’t going to let it go— not after making a conclusion like that. Not that they truly wanted to refuse him anyway.

That smile returned—quieter, more subtle this time. Almost somber. They reached over to the side of his face and stroked with the back of their hand. His eye closed, leaning into the touch with some measure of tension fading from his posture.

“I suppose it makes it easier when we’re not investing in another bunk on board.” The human teased. “And after all this is over, Alpha Cerenkov I can’t be the only one of its kind in the galaxy.”

The admiral’s shoulders relaxed, and an arm curled around the captain’s.

“We have some time to prepare. My countrymen visit occasionally to exchange supplies and resources but they’ve been scarce lately and I do not think they know you are here. Fortunately the others that live here permanently are—“

“Sir, I didn’t hear the human’s departure and it’s been awfully quiet, are you o-.OHMY-“ After entering through the door, Dax dropped and shattered what seemed to previously be some kind of beverage he was holding before scrambling to shield his eye.

“Dax!? Have you no sense to knock?!”

“I did NOT see what I think I just saw.“ He nearly pleaded. "Tell me that isn’t what’s going on here. Admiral, I swear to–”

“Who is—?“

“My sub commander.” Zex retrieved and put on a robe of his own irritably before standing. “Who very rudely barged in unannounced, I might add.”

Dax carefully peeked open his eye, as if unsure if it was alright to look. “Excuse me sir, but the very last thing I expected to walk in on was—…“ Something like a grimace contorted Dax’s features.

“I do not need your approval, Dax. Besides, I thought you more open-minded than this.”

“So this is what I think it is. You have to be joking.” He finally looked, though now had a somewhat exasperated and heated posture. “Sure, maybe I don’t hate humans but to be involving yourself with—…“ his eye swiveled from the bed to the human, then back to Zex with a more bitter grimace. “What will the council think?”

“The council will not think anything if they don’t hear of it.”

"With all due respect sir, this– this had gone way too far. This is going to get you killed!”

“Mind. Your. Place. Dax.”

The sub commander’s posture recoiled slightly. His superior may have been reckless, blinded, mad and a hedonist, but he was also well respected and rightly earned it. Dax was as loyal as they came, even if the admiral absolutely exhausted him at times. This was easily in the top three of those.

“…I’m sorry, sir. I understand the council put you here to pursue your…‘lifestyle’–.”

“That’s what I’m doing, aren’t I?”

Dax laughed, uneasy. “Sure, but I highly doubt they expected it possible for you to ever actually–”

Zex sighed stubbornly and looked off, the sub commander’s words stinging a bit. It gave Dax pause to reword, but Zex spoke before he could.

“Please excuse me, captain. I’ll take care of this.”

The two of them left the room and shut the door behind them.

“Sir…even if they don’t find out which they obviously will, how do you expect to keep this up? If this gets back to our home planet they’ll make an example of you. They’ve been placated this long knowing you’re not influencing the public but as soon as it starts to get out of their hands it could cause an uprising. How long has this been going on?”

“If you must pry, I’ve spoken with them on recent occasions but this was the first time we–”

“Eugh. No. Stop. That’s enough.” He winced and interrupted. “So you’re telling me you don’t even know this human very well. You don’t know if they have an ulterior motive for all of this.”

“Actually, Dax, the human initially agreed with you. They were ready to leave for the sake of my safety and that would have been that. But I was who convinced them otherwise. They wouldn’t have initiated what they did or gone as far as they did if their intentions were to take advantage of me. If you were violently repulsed by the very appearance of an alien, don’t you think having sex with them would be a last resort? ”

“Sir, please—“Dax cringed, waving his arms to stop him but Zex continued.

“And if you must insist on doing this now—“ He huffed and straightened himself. “I’ve decided to join them. I’m leaving Alpha Cerenkov. The human plans to resist the Ur Quan.”

“Have you gone completely mad?! What about the fleet? I hope you realize the position you’re putting them in if they question them. If they question me. They’ll suspect us traitors. I didn’t swear an oath to your loyalty with the intention of breaking it. If I refuse to give them what they want…”

“If you and the rest of the fleet do not intend to join us, then perhaps the less you know the better.” The admiral turned back to the door, but Dax stopped him. There was a pause.

“I hope you’re sure about this…”

“There are few things I’ve been surer of.”

Dax sighed deeply.

“Just…wait. Don’t do anything reckless. I’ll talk with the fleet.”

#admiral zex #star control #star control II #star control 2 #boy I'm bad at titles #yes thats a strange magic reference fight me #Sub Commander Dax

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