#the clinic was worried enough to call and ask me follow up questions in advance of my appointment

[kirby-the-gorb]

#kirby #daily kirby #my art #digital #hal laboratory #nintendo #the struggle continues #the clinic was worried enough to call and ask me follow up questions in advance of my appointment #but they decided it's 'not lifethreatening' which yeah. thanks. not technically. #so I gotta wait till tomorrow to get it sorted #I have not fallen asleep on the couch today #but I have also only been out of bed for like 10 or 11 hours and I'm already going back to bed #so it's less that I'm not as tired #and more that I've shifted gears back to being tired all the time. -n-

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Being Fake Soulmates with Dr. Chilton (Part 6)

<- Part 5

Frederick Chilton x Reader | The Good Place crossover

Final chapter! Warning: The Good Place spoilers, and a timeline that makes perfect sense because Jeremy Bearimy, baby. 

2,800 words

“No way. It’s too dangerous!”

“I thought you said we were in this together?” Chilton quirked a brow, eliciting a petulant grumble. You crossed your arms.

“Or maybe you think I’m expendable, so you’re willing to take risks with my life. Afterlife. Whatever.”

Frederick Chilton, who was not, as originally advertised, your soulmate, nonetheless clasped your hand with gentle tenderness. I would never do anything to hurt you is what a normal person would say in that moment, and perhaps his eyes said it, somewhere deep in their searching pools of green. But Dr. Chilton had a repressed way about him, tending toward overly clinical just stating the facts (or the sarcasm). Anything but genuine, vulnerable, sentimentality.

He guided you by your hand to sit down beside him on the baroque loveseat in one of his many living rooms, studies, and salons. After you settled yourself on the velvet cushion, he leaned his shoulder against yours in that quiet way he showed affection.

“After reviewing the town records,” he said, “I believe we may be the only two humans in the neighborhood. Some of the residents are far too dull—Chidi Anagonye, the moral philosophy professor who spent his life writing a single manuscript, Jianyu the silent monk—while others are too perfect—Glen, that one who is constantly volunteering, Tahani, the philanthropist. Real people have flaws, secrets, hobbies. I can only be certain of myself and you.”

“How’d you figure out I’m real?”

“I didn’t. I simply refuse to accept the alternative,” he said with a sad smile, and you began to think Dr. Chilton was sentimental after all.

***

Their voices were muffled even with your ear pressed to the door of Michael’s office—not that it mattered much what they were talking about. You were just waiting for the signal, and at that moment, it came. Their footsteps and voices grew louder as Frederick and Michael approached, and the door handle clicked.

“—which is why cannibalism loses more good-person points than defenestration but fewer than chewing loudly on a crowded bus.”

“Fascinating. I never thought about it that way,” said Chilton, looking genuinely disturbed.

You flattened yourself against the wall next to the door, thinking thin thoughts as the pair exited the office. A tall houseplant barely disguised your presence, and if Michael had any kind of peripheral vision, he would see you standing there plain as day.

But Dr. Chilton spoke animatedly, fixing him with a challenging laser-stare as he asked a probing follow-up question. Locked in Chilton’s eyes, Michael failed to notice the movement just behind his left shoulder as you slipped through the closing door before it could latch shut.

Safe.

Michael’s office was quiet and filled you with serenity in much the same way a teddy bear is filled with stuffing: forcefully and by no will of your own. Like the welcome room with its happy green plants and happy green words on the wall assuring you everything is fine, the office peeled your defenses away. Cream-colored walls yawned out around the perimeter, punctuated with bright windows, a portrait of Doug Forcett (a stoner from the 1970s who guessed, on a mushroom trip, how the afterlife really worked), and various artifacts of humanity enshrined like museum pieces, despite seeming perfectly mundane.

At the top of the room was a large mahogany desk.

Yesterday, Chilton watched Michael put away files in the desk that he wouldn’t let him look at. Chilton was certain they were the key to unraveling the mystery, so he suggested working together—he would distract Michael while you sneaked in to find the files. It was risky, but it might have been your only chance of discovering what was going on, and if there was a way to escape.

You began poking through the desk and found stacks of papers in an unreadable alphabet. The only thing you could read were lyrics to a genuinely terrible song Michael was writing titled “Love Train to the Cosmos.”

The last drawer wouldn’t budge.

Yanking the handle didn’t work. Banging on the side with your fist failed to unstick it. It was locked. Locked drawers were suspicious. The answers had to be in there.

You eyed a mountain of paperclips lovingly displayed on a pedestal labeled “Human Things.” Snatching two off the top, you unbent and re-bent the stiff metal wire, and inserted it into the lock. Faint clicks sounded as you turned and finessed the paperclip, feeling each pin in the tumbler slide into place. Then you gently turned it, and—pop. The drawer opened.

A single manila folder stamped TOP SECRET in threatening red letters rested inside, as if waiting to be found. You picked it up and opened it, and your breath caught. They were reports on “The Good Place.” The Good Place in quotation marks. Reports about you.

A pleasant bing sounded.

Janet materialized in front of the desk. For once, she was not wearing a cheery smile.

***

Frederick Chilton had always been a selfish man. Any opportunity that could advance his career and put him in the spotlight, he would take it no matter who it hurt. “Unorthodox therapy,” he called it in his private chats with Dr. Lecter. They bonded over their shared interest in unorthodox research before he learned Dr. Lecter was a cannibal. That would have been a clue to anybody else that it was time to change his ways, but Dr. Chilton spent the rest of his years just as selfish and petty—more so, even, as his disfiguring injuries gave him more reason for spite.

He could never accept himself as he was.

By the time he died, Chilton was an intolerable asshole who paid back the world’s cruelty with his chronic foul moods and acerbic sarcasm. He kept everyone at a distance.

And yet, here, in death, he found himself worrying over someone else.

The sun was shining in the ever-blue sky, dappled by lush green foliage before reaching the two men as they strolled the neighborhood below. Michael was built like a sapling with longer legs than he knew what to do with, making Chilton nearly jog to keep pace. He had a warm smile and an outgoing demeanor—always flattering Chilton’s ego and asking for his guidance. But something malignant hid behind those smiling eyes, and Chilton’s mind kept rushing back to you, hoping you were OK.

He hoped that you were safe. Not that the plan was going smoothly. That you were safe.

There was a difference, and Dr. Chilton noticed right away that his twitchy nervousness was not wrought of self-preservation. It was a new type of panic—worse than fear for himself, which he never thought possible considering the amount of terror he had experienced on his own behalf.

To distract himself, Chilton threw himself into the role of Michael’s assistant, focusing on his task of supposedly identifying psychological issues causing problems with the neighborhood.

“Our interviews should go in alphabetical order, under the pretense of a survey—a sort of afterlife census—to avoid suspicion. It should be feasible, with only three hundred residents—”

“We know,” Michael said coolly. His voice dropped from the usual friendly, flattering demeanor, slipping off like a mask.

“You know how you are going to handle the interviews? It is imperative the subjects do not suspect they are being studied.” Chilton swallowed, knowing full well that he was talking to the real Michael for the first time.

“Don’t play dumb.” Michael smiled an entirely different type of smile, twisted and clever with no warmth in it. “We’ve been watching you, Dr. Chilton. We knew you would figure it out eventually. It was only a matter of time before you saw through a psychiatric study.”

Chilton’s interest piqued at the same time his blood went cold. He wet his lips. “Is that what all this is, then?”

The pair came to a stone bridge that arched gracefully over a reflection pool. Michael stopped midway across, leaned one of his long, pointed elbows on the railing, and cocked his head at Chilton.

“You haven’t figured it all out yet? That’s disappointing. You humans really are so dense.” His tone was so mean that Chilton took an unconscious step back. Michael only laughed and told him there was no point in running away. “But I think you’ll want to hear what I have to offer,” he promised.

Most of what you had been told about the afterlife was true, Michael explained. There was a real good place, and there was a real bad place where bad people were tortured for all eternity. But the bad place had a problem: it was boring! Humans get used to physical pain after the first few centuries, no matter how creative the punishment.

“Once you’ve flattened a thousand penises, you’ve flattened them all. I’m trying to do something new here. Innovate!” said Michael with an energetic swoop of his hand. “Emotional torture can cause the same level of discomfort, but in a more sustainable and (more importantly) entertaining way. That’s what this neighborhood is for—to study you humans and find out what makes you miserable.”

And then he offered Dr. Chilton something that grabbed his attention. The opportunity to design bad place neighborhoods.

“You are asking me to help implement psychological torture?” Chilton turned over each word cautiously.

“Oh,” Michael scoffed, “Don’t tell me you’re concerned about the ethics? Doctor, I’ve read your file.”

Chilton winced. He had done truly amoral things in the name of discovery—things it made him sick to be reminded of. Strange, though. In the past, he would have been proud to be treated as a peer by a psychopath. Not ashamed.

“Think of it, the glory, the prestige. You would be designing the afterlife for billions of souls. You will be remembered throughout eternity as the man who reformed the bad place!”

“And my soulmate?”

Chilton blurted it without thinking. It sounded so childish and naive, and sure enough, Michael shook his head and had a long chuckle at his expense.

“There’s no such thing! I thought you knew,” Michael slapped his knee. “I made it up so you would torture each other! But once again, I underestimated the human libido. You people all think with your genitals, it’s—it’s gross. Humans are gross.” He made a face. “That’s why I need your help to design a better system. With your understanding of the human mind, we can make condemned souls miserable for thousands of years.”

Chilton couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for this plan, and Michael frowned.

“If it makes you feel any better, consider this the humane option. The alternative is going back to scooping eyeballs out with melon ballers and replacing them with live bees. What do you say, doctor? Join my team.” Michael extended a hand, and Chilton eyeballed it.

“Can my soulmate—”

“Not a soulmate.”

“—come with me?”

“This offer is only open to you.”

“So they will be tortured? Alone? For eternity? In a system I help design?”

“Nothing you can do will change that. They are going to be tortured—the only person you can save is yourself, if you decide to help me.”

Frederick’s brow knit together. He thought about refusing. He really did. Abandoning you seemed unthinkable, especially after your promise to each other to stick together. But he was a selfish creature, and choosing to be punished wouldn’t protect you. If he was lucky, by teaming up with Michael, he could design a more comfortable torture for you one day.

“Maybe this will help make up your mind,” Michael said. “Hannibal Lecter.”

“Lecter?”

“He’s here. In the bad place. So far, he has been especially resistant to traditional torture. I thought you might have a personal interest in taking a crack at him?”

***

On a floating, room-sized projection screen, Frederick Chilton shook Michael’s hand. Your head fell forward, shoulders slumping. The screen flicked off and dissipated into the office air.

“This is the 764th time he has failed,” said Janet, giving a sympathetic simulation of a sigh. “We were sure he was going to make the right decision this time.”

You shook your head. “Fame and glory? Revenge? He’ll never refuse those. Trust me—he died because of them and still never learned his lesson.”

“That is what we’re afraid of. Some people never pass their tests. Fun fact!” she perked up, “Hannibal Lecter’s test is working at a Burger King where he can only cook Impossible Whoppers, and his 19-year-old manager calls him pee-paw. He gets reset every time he eats a customer. His longest record is twelve hours.”

When Janet found you snooping in Michael’s desk, you expected to be dragged away, never to see Frederick again. Instead, she explained everything to you—the truth.

A long time ago, the bad place was exactly how Michael described it—a place where souls were sent to have their orifices filled with spiders for eternity. Then he decided to try something new. Originally, he paired you with Dr. Chilton hoping you would drive each other crazy. But no matter what happened, you kept falling in love. You kept supporting each other, and taking care of each other. The same happened with his other human test subjects—they kept improving and becoming better people than they were on Earth. Eventually, Michael changed, too.

He redesigned the bad place to be a test—a chance for human souls to earn their way into the good place. At the end of each test, you either pass and go to the good place, or your memories are erased and you start over again.

“So, what happens to me now?”

“You passed. You can go to the good place now, and spend the rest of eternity in paradise. The real one.”

“And Frederick? He’ll be alone?”

Janet nodded.

“Put me back in. Reset me, and make me his soulmate again.”

“Are you sure?” Janet asked.

“I’m not going without him.”

“He would leave you behind. You just saw that.”

“That wasn’t fair. Anyone would accept that deal. I would accept that deal!”

“No. You wouldn’t,” Janet said. “You passed your test a long time ago.”

For a while, a heavy silence fell between you as you processed this. Finally, you thought of the only question worth asking. “How many times have we had this conversation?”

“762.”

“Well then,” you said. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“I do. But you retain a vague sense of your memories from previous tests. At a subconscious level, you might realize you’re tired of this.”

You smiled. A big, genuine one that balled your cheeks and creased the corners of your eyes. “That’s not how I feel at all. I think I love him more every time.”

Janet nodded, but gave one last warning before erasing your memories again. “If he never passes, you could be stuck here forever.”

“Stuck falling in love with that insecure jerk over and over again for thousands of years? Sounds like heaven to me.”

“I thought you might say that.”

***

The first day, you really wanted to punch his pretentious snobby face for thinking he was so much better than you.

The first time you laid eyes on Dr. Frederick Chilton, he was waiting behind a mahogany desk with an ancient hardcover book in his hands. Not reading it—waiting, posed deliberately to be discovered that way, and give the impression of intellectualism.

“This is your soulmate,” said Michael, introducing you.

Chilton took a step back after shaking your hand and looked you up and down critically, as if he were appraising livestock. And right away, you knew there had been a terrible mistake. Who the fork did he think he—

Fork. Fork! Why couldn’t you say fork?!

***

Bright light streamed in through the open bedroom window. The weather was always perfect here, except when some glitch made it rain caviar and jelly beans. Or that time Frederick had a vivid nightmare, and organs began falling from the sky. Every day, something horrible seemed to go wrong in the good place. Things that challenged you and pushed your soulmate to his limits.

But most mornings were like this. Quiet. A time just for the two of you.

Your fingers lightly stroked his chest, delving into the soft hairs that rose and fell with his steady breathing. You pressed a soft kiss to his skin, then another, tracing a line of them lower, over a jagged, raised line down his abdomen. His scars let you know he was waking up. This was the good place—he didn’t have to let them show. Usually, he chose to appear as a younger version of himself, before all the indelible trauma. But on peaceful mornings like this, he would let them show just so you could soothe them. He never thought he would be that comfortable with anyone. That he could trust anyone so much.

Every day, you both knew you could overcome anything, so long as you were together.

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #The Good Place crossover #my writing

[dirtyoatmeall]

Burnout (Pro!Bakugo x Vet!Reader)

A/N: another sefl indulgent fic, I;ve been having a hard time at work and felt really burnt out today so I wrote this to mke me feel better, not sure how it turned out. I hope you like this.

Pairing: Bakugo x reader- married, female pronouns used for reader I believe.

Word count:~1.5k

Warnings: Cursing

~

You sigh as you glance at the clock, it was close to 8pm, almost 2 hours since the clinic closed. You reviewed your chart again, trying to remember if there was anything else you noted during the exam. You released the chart and moved the follow up task to the assistants. You took note of how many charts you had left, and switched to look at your tasks. You had been trying to keep up with them, but an emergency had come in and you ended up working through your lunch, a time you usually used to call owners back between bites of your food. You turned to look at your coworker, the closing assistant who instead of leaving when they finished closing, had instead elected to sit in the other office chair, scrolling through her phone.

“Y’know you don’t have to stay, I’m probably gonna be here awhile.” You tried not to sound so exhausted when you spoke, but it was obvious from the look on your face. She just smiled and shook her head, “You know I don’t have anything to do, and this isn’t the best area, I don’t like leaving you by yourself here.” You smiled and nodded once, turning back to your charts, occasionally making small talk about the appointments through-out the day.

It was a tough day. You were the only doctor working, you knew you were going to be short-staffed looking at the schedule but someone ended up calling out, so everyone was always running around, not having a moment of rest. It seemed like the phones were always ringing and every owner had about 50 million questions. Your spay ran long, and you just couldn’t seem to catch your breath. You preformed 3 euthanasia as well. You had cried in the bathroom after each one, as well as after a client yelled at you for 10 minutes on the phone, over prices you didn’t set and circumstances you didn’t have control over. You still tried to maintain the fun atmosphere in the back, trying to keep morale up, you couldn’t tell if it worked.

After another 45 minutes, you closed out your desktop, packing up your bag as your coworker does the same. The two of you leave together and you exchange farewells as you get in your car. You gripped the steering wheel, as you sat in the dark and leaned forward so your forehead rested against the top of the steering wheel. You cried for another 15 minutes before sitting up and taking a deep breath, wiping the tears from your cheeks. You turn on your car and put on some music before pulling out of the clinic parking lot.

It took you only about 20 minutes to get home, checking yourself in the mirror before getting out of the car, making sure you didn’t look like an absolute mess. You had completely forgotten to text your husband you would be late, it wasn’t the first time you had, and most likely wouldn’t be the last.  Your shoulders sag as you approach the door, all you wanted was to curl up with your husband and sleep for the next 50 years. You open the door quietly, incase Katsuki was already asleep, and toed off your shoes, dropping your bag unceremoniously on the couch on the way to the kitchen.

You had thought Katuski had just left the light on for you, but you were surprised to find your husband sitting at the dining table, scrolling through his phone, looking up when you enter. “Oh,” you say, pausing in the doorway before walking up to him, “I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He simply stood up to meet you, wrapping his arms your waist and leaning down to place a quick kiss on your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and pretty much collapse against him, resting your face in the crook of his neck, enjoying the warmth your husband provides. “What kind of asshole doesn’t wait up for his wife?” He says gruffly, actions betraying his tone as he softly rubs your back. “Hard day?” He asks quietly, like he already knows the answer. You nod against his neck and softly curse as you feel hot tears well up. You had thought you had cried everything out earlier, but apparently not.

Katsuki stiffens for half a second, not expecting waterworks as he gently cups the side of your face, bringing you to look at him. You take in his features, the hard lines of his nose, the various scars and freckles that adorn his face, and his crimson eyes, that soften whenever they meet yours, which now held worry in them. This wasn’t the first time you had cried after work, but it usually was out of frustration after going over complicated cases, nothing this bad this unprompted had happened before. You hiccup through the sobs, closing your eyes briefly as he wipes at your tears. His other hand came to cup your other cheek, and your hands grip his wrists loosely. “What happened?” He says gently, before kissing your forehead and leading you toward the bedroom.

You mull over the day, sniffling as you changed from your scrubs into a pair of sleep shorts and one of Katsuki’s shirts. While you changed and began recounting the day, your husband was getting the bed ready, climbing in and opening his arms to you as you clambered after him, curling into his side, sobs growing heavier as you went over the argument you had. “I-I can’t even count how many times I was told I don’t know what I’m doing, that I’m bad at my job, and-“ You grip his shirt tightly in your fist as you take a deep breath. Katsuki didn’t say a word, and you looked up to meet his eyes through your tears. “And what if- what if they’re right?” You lip wobbles as you look away from him for a second before meeting is eyes again, slightly worried at his response. His forehead furrows for a moment as he thinks of what to say.

“Fuck them.” He says simply, and you blink once before snorting and resting your head on his chest. “I’m serious, you went to school for 8 fucking years, working your ass off for this degree just for some extra to tell you that you don’t know what you’re talking about because he didn’t want to fucking pay for it? Nah, that’s not gonna fly. Did you tell your hospital manager?” He questioned and you nodded. “Yeah, one of the girls told her about it while I was crying in the bathroom.” He sighs at your admission, “You cried at work?” You laughed bitterly as you thought of just how much you’ve cried today. “Yeah this is like the 5th time today.” He held you a bit tighter, kissing the crown of your head. “ You need to take a break. You’ve been working non-stop while what’s-her-face is on maternity leave. You’re getting burnt out. I hate watching you destroy yourself like this. You keep giving and giving, soon enough there’s not going to be anymore of you to give.”

You nod at his words, you know they’re true, you’ve been working 10 hour shifts, many of them without a lunch break, way too often lately. You know the statistics, you had mandatory mental health classes in grad school to help you develop coping mechanism and ways to prevent burnout, but it never quite translated properly into the workforce. They always stressed time off, but doctor schedules were made months in advance, and it’s hard to know exactly when you’re going to be feeling this way. “I’ve got a week off coming up soon, if you can get it off too maybe we can go somewhere.” You husband smiles into your hair, squeezing your hip. “I’m one of the top heroes, of course I can get it off. We can go to that seaside town you love so fucking much, maybe we can finally fuck on the beach this time.” You snort, rolling your eyes at his words.

You shift, sitting up slightly, face to face with Katsuki, who had one of his signature smirks on his face. You smile and kiss him gently, cupping his cheek before pulling away. “ I am so lucky to have you Katsuki. I love you so much.” He pulls you back for another kiss before tugging you back down to his side, getting ready to finally commit to sleep. “Of course you are, I’m a fucking catch.” You laugh again and pinch his hip and you settle into him. He retaliates by pinching your ass, kissing your hair as he exhales, listening to you soft breaths. “I love you too, brat.”

#My writing #my hero academia #my hero academy #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagine #bakugo #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo kastuki x reader #mha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #bakugou katuski x reader

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch19. Cut Off One Head…

Summary: The Avengers have been tracking Hydra for a number of months now, systematically making their way through each base that their intel provides them…but a routine business trip turns out to be something far more sinister than Katie and Tony were planning for…

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, bad language, angst… 18+

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: The next few chapters take a bit of DARK turn…warnings will be detailed. @angrybirdcr​ provided a special banner for these next three chapters, and another wonderful edit...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 18

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 September 2014

“I’m not saying that I’m not open to the idea, I just don’t understand why you think we need to buy the firm.” Katie said for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. Tony glared at her and simply shook his head as he sat waiting in the reception area of the office block in Minnesota. “I’m not even gonna ask what you were doing that kept you up so late you clearly didn’t get enough sleep last night you cranky brat.” Katie rolled her eyes but she felt a small smirk pulling at her lips as she remembered very well the events of last night as Steve had quite frankly lost his shit at the fact she was wearing the new baby blue lace matching underwear set he had bought her just because he wanted to, but she caught herself. “Sleep or lack of, has nothing to do with it. I’m serious, Tony. We don’t need it”. “Investing” he said holding his finger up “building the brand. That’s what business is all about.” She groaned “Thanks for the lesson on running a business, you know, in case I didn’t know how to, but that is NOT the vision I have for SIP.” “Look, you said yourself when this proposal landed on your desk you were curious.” “I am!” She protested, and she was. From the research they had done, the company that had approached them, Hall General Publishers LTD, held the same ideas as SIP, except they focused on Biographies that were published in series magazines. They had reached out to SIP for a potential collaboration on a fiction series that they had been approached to run and felt it was out of their field, but they were keen to see if they could join forces. It had instantly caught Katie’s attention and imagination but as usual Tony had gone off on one and suggested they buy the smaller company out. “I’m curious about their proposal, and the potential to do business, collaborate yes, but not take over!” “Look, it’s a day out of the office, chance to forget about Tin Man and Hydra” Tony shrugged and Katie gave a groan of frustration again. “And their profits are pretty impressive. We can use them, keep their brand…” “Whatever.” She glanced around at the foyer. It was clinical, white, all clean lines. Nothing like the entrance to Stark, sorry Avengers Tower as it was now called .Mind you, that was to be expected from a ‘rent an office’. Eddie Hall, the MD of HGP had requested the meeting take place away from either of their offices to avoid anyone catching news of the potential collaboration and had arranged to hire a room at block some 10 miles outside of Saint Paul. Tony had shrugged when Katie questioned it, saying it wasn’t unusual for people to hire external meeting venues in order to keep things under the radar. “Miss Stark, Mr Stark, I’m so sorry,” the dark haired man hurrying across the foyer said. He was about 6 foot tall, slim, and was wearing a sharp black suit. Both Katie and Tony stood up, Tony extending a hand.

“Mr Hall I presume?”

 “Yes.” The man said, shaking both their hands, his manner flustered. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to ensure the room was ready.”

“It’s only a few minutes.” Katie said smiled at him, “No apologies necessary.”

 They followed him into the elevator and he selected the top floor and turned to the siblings

“Thank you for coming out here. I know the cloak and dagger thing is probably a bit much but I don’t want people getting wind of it. There’s a few changes coming at the company and I don’t want any of them making any assumptions…” “Understandable.” Tony sniffed, looking around the elevator.

They emerged onto the top floor, and he led them left down the corridor. Katie looked around, the whole place smelt of paint and there was decorating equipment dotted around. She frowned. “It’s a new office facility.” Hall explained, looking at her. “Owned by a friend of mine and they’re still kitting it all out. But he said this was the best room to use. It’s mocked up like a board room you see…” Katie nodded and shared a look with Tony, she was starting to feel ever so slightly uneasy. Tony just shook his head and patted his pocket where his trusty Iron gauntlet cuff sat. Neither of them had come with their suits, this was supposed to be a straight forward business meeting after all. But she took a deep breath, she was probably just being over sensitive after everything that had happened recently…

Hall stopped outside a door to the left and opened the room, revealing nothing but darkness. “Oh, sorry,” Hall let out a sigh of frustration, sweeping into the room. “Yes. Let me just… find the lights.” Tony looked at Katie, arching an eyebrow. 

No window? He mouthed at her, his hand slipping into his pocket as they stepped into the room, Katie not quite sure they should be to be honest. “Yes. Here we go,” the man said brightly, flipping on the light and flooding the small room with light as the door slammed shut behind them.

That’s why it didn’t have a window. It was a fucking storage room. And it contained three men in dark suits standing before them, each with a rifle trained on their chests. Katie instantly stopped, drawing a deep breath of shock. Besides her she saw Tony in the corner of her eye quickly move to pull the cuff from the depth of his pocket, but he suddenly stumbled forward and fell immediately, the cuff flying out of his hand as the man they knew as Mr Hall stepped round them both and leaned against the wall to their right.

Katie spun round to see another man to the left and her eyes widened as she instantly recognised him.

“Grant?”  She frowned, looking up at the face of her ex "What… what’s going on? "You know, I thought when you dumped all those files on the internet you might have actually read them.” He smirked, stepping forward and glancing down at Tony who had sat up and was watching him, his face contorted with hatred and rage. Katie swallowed as she took in his words before she shook her head as her eyes grew wide in sudden understanding.

“Heil HYDRA.” Ward’s smile spread further across his face.

The agents around the room started to close in. One of them, a larger built man who reminded her a little of Rumlow spoke in a deep voice.

“This is the one you say we need?” Ward nodded and at that point Tony slowly got to his feet, backing up, placing himself between his sister and the man who is advancing on her, the two of them backing towards the door.

“Need me for what?” Katie said, her voice soft as her back hit the wooden surface.

“Answers.” The large man said, looking bored at Tony’s display of protectiveness.

 “About what?” She said, a bit louder this time.

“Well, you see Kay…” Ward smirked and Katie turned to her left to look at him as Tony emitted a low growl in his throat at the use of his old pet name for her, Ward chuckled before he started again “We’ve had a bit of a problem since you and your boyfriend, sorry fiancée, congratulations on that by the way.” He smiled, and she glared at him in response “Yes, ever since you took down SHIELD, we’ve been a little bit on the back foot, constantly watching our backs, trying to figure out where SHIELD or the Avengers are going to pop up next. So we figured, we needed a bit of inside intel.” The larger officer yanked Katie’s arm and pulled her out from between the door and Tony, flinging her into the middle of the room where another one of the agents grabbed her. Another one stepped quickly in front of her brother, blocking his path to her.

 “Ok, stop…” Tony held his hands up, turning back to Ward and the other man. “If you want someone, take me. I’m more involved in the Avengers anyway…“

His voice was level but Katie could hear a level of desperation.

“Yeah, much as I’d love to take you in for a kicking Tony, the problem is she’s the only one of you who knows he’s alive and what he’s likely to be doing so…” “Knows who is alive?” Tony frowned as Katie swallowed thickly. Coulson, that’s the only person they could be talking about. But before she could say anything one of the agents butt Tony hard in the back of the head with the handle of his gun and he fell to the floor.

 Katie yelled out and started towards him, but the Agent holding her tightened his grip on her arm to the point of it being painful.

 “Now you’re gonna come with us, out of this building, quietly, no fuss and no escape attempts” The big man spoke to her “Otherwise Ward here is gonna put a bullet in your dearest bro’s head.” “And how do I know you’re not gonna do that anyway?” Katie whispered through her tears.

“Because it’s more trouble than its worth.” Ward shrugged. “And frankly, the thought of him alive, worrying about you is far more satisfying.” Katie glanced down at her brother, who was starting to push himself up, until Ward kicked him hard in the ribs and he collapsed, groaning, as Ward hit him on the back of the head again, knocking him out.

“Alright, alright!” She protested, her voice cracking. “I’ll come. Just leave him alone.” She was shoved harshly forward, her heeled feet slipping slightly as the door was pulled open. She stopped suddenly, turning to Ward. “You better watch your back .When Steve and the rest of the team finds out about this you’re a dead man.” Ward chuckled. “Quaking in my boots, Sugar.” She was shoved forward again, and managed one glance over her shoulder at Tony who was sprawled on the floor before she was shoved out of the room.

***** Tony groaned, as he pushed himself up slowly, the room spinning.

 “Kiddo?” he croaked, as he looked around. He was alone, no sign of anyone. He scrambled across the floor, and tried the door which was locked, before he slumped heavily against it, his trembling hands started to feel his suit pockets. His phone was gone, of course, as was his cuff and Katie’s laptop. He lay his head back against the door as he started to piece together what had happened. It was an ambush, Ward…HYDRA…

 Hydra had his sister. For information. About someone no one knew was alive? Were they referring to Fury? He ran his hand over his face again, and was just about to think about screaming in the vain hope they heard him on reception, but he stopped, suddenly. They hadn’t taken his watch.

Thick HYDRA bastards. 

With shaky fingers he pressed the button at the side and the face lit up orange.

 "Yes, sir?“ JARVIS spoke and Tony almost gave a sob of relief before he spoke a simple instruction, all he can think to blurt out before he gives into the throbbing in his head once more.

“Alert Captain Rogers. Send help.”

***** Steve was in the now finished training room with Thor. The pair of them were currently debating if the large room would stand up to them trying out a new move- Thor hitting Steve’s shield with his hammer to create the same wave it had done in the forest that time. It was useful, and Steve was thinking about perfecting it, seeing if it could be directed in anyway.

 “What metal is it made from anyway?”  Steve nodded to Mjolnir as Thor was throwing it up and down.

 “It was forged from the heart of a dying star- Nidevalir…” Thor said, as Steve picked up his shield.

 “It’s made from a star?”

 “No, metal, which was forged by a star.” Thor corrected.

Steve was about to comment that he still hadn’t answered the question when a red light started flashing in the corner of the room, along with a low siren, and Jarvis’ voice cut across them.

“Captain Rogers, Mr Stark has just sent a distress signal.”

 Steve instantly looked at Thor, swallowing slightly. “A distress…they were on a business trip. “I’ve no other details other than to alert you and send help.” There was a loud clap of thunder and Steve turned to see Thor was now clad in his armour and the God nodded at him as the two of them sprinted from the room. Steve’s mouth was dry and his mind was running overtime about what trouble they could possibly be in, but as they headed down the corridor to the armoury he found his voice.

“JARVIS, tell everyone to suit up and meet at the jet, now.” “Of course Captain. I’ve patched the location through to the jet.”

“I’m sure they will be fine.” Thor offered as some attempt at re-assurance. But as Steve shrugged on the top half of his uniform and grabbed his utility belt, he didn’t feel very re-assured.

Maria Hill met them in the hangar “I heard the signal, is everything ok?” “Tony and Katie…” Steve informed her. “They were at a business meeting but Tony just sent out a distress signal.” Maria looked at him and then nodded “I’ll start doing some digging into who they were meeting.”

 He nodded, and strode up the ramp to the jet. They’d been in the air about 30 minutes when Maria patched through to them

 “I don’t know who they were meeting but it isn’t Eddie Hill” she sighed “He was reported missing three days ago by his wife.”

 “So whoever took them got to him first.” Nat looked at Steve. “Took him out, replaced him with an imposter”

“And it’s probably safe to assume he’s dead.” Steve said, flatly. “Hill, start doing some digging. Into Hall…anything that might help.”

“On it Cap.”

It took them approximately another ten minutes to get to the location JARVIS had programmed for them. And it felt like ten years. Ever since receiving the distress call the entire team had been on tenterhooks, Steve especially, remaining stoic and unyielding, although he felt anything but, knowing his girl could be in trouble.

 The receptionists face was a picture when the Avengers, led by a focussed, stern looking Captain America stormed into the building and demanded to know what room the Starks were in. Tony heard them shouting on the corridor, Thor kicking over paint cans as he went, and he yelled, banging on the door.

 “Stand back…” Steve’s voice was loud before he aimed a huge kick at the door, breaking it easily along with the frame which splintered out of the wall.

“Where’s Katie?” Steve asked, swallowing and looking round, almost as if he expected her to be hiding somewhere.

“They took her.” Tony said, pacing in front of him “I tried to stop them but…”

“Who?” Steve looked at him and Tony sighed, his eyes brimming “Tony, who took her?” Steve’s voice was desperate.

“HYDRA.” he bit out, and Steve felt his mouth drop open before he took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. “I don’t understand…“ Thor began, but Tony cut him off. “And you think I do?” he shouted at the God, his entire body trembling as he stopped pacing in front of him “I… we…” He stopped, unable to speak, his breaths coming in short, rapid bursts. Steve was too preoccupied to notice. He was simply staring down at the floor, his posture slumped as he removed his helmet which felt like it was suffocating him, his head kept replaying what Tony had told him.

 HYDRA had her. They had her.

 Banner grabbed Tony by the shoulders and gave him a single shake before he looked at him “Tony, focus on me, ok, keep breathing…”

 Tony slumped to the floor and Banner knelt down with him. “How did this happen?” Steve’s voice was thick as he turned to look at him. Tony swallowed and Bruce squeezed his shoulder “It was a trap. The man, Hall. We came to meet him only Ward and…” “Ward?” Clint’s head snapped round at the sound of that name, frowning “Ward is Hydra?”

Tony nodded and Steve let out a lowly growl of frustration.

“They wanted her, said they needed inside intel. I told them to take me, I said, take me instead, but they wouldn’t, Ward said that she’s the only one who knows…knows that someone is alive and what he’s likely to be doing…”

 At that Steve’s mind started whirring. Ward- she’d worked that last case with him and Coulson. She was the only Avenger that knew Coulson was alive, bar him, and no one knew she’d told him. Other than Fury that is.

 “Who’s alive, who were they talking about?” Natasha frowned.

“I don’t know!” Tony bellowed.

“Maybe they meant Fury?” Banner suggested, looking up.

Steve’s voice was quiet as he looked up. “They mean Coulson.”

 “What?” Tony wheeled round to face him “Coulson? He’s…he was killed, they buried him! We were at the funeral!” Steve shook his head before looking up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath “He’s alive. The last case Katie worked at SHIELD, the Asgardian staff case…” “The what?” Thor frowned, but Steve ignored him as he continued.

 “It was Coulson’s team she worked with. Ward was part of it.” “And you didn’t think to tell us?” Clint frowned at Steve

“What good would it have done Barton?” Steve snapped, before once more his hands ran over his face. The room fell silent until Nat spoke again.

“Ok, so even if he is alive, that doesn’t explain why they think she knows something.” she pressed “What do they think she knows that’s so important they’d risk taking her?” Steve grit his teeth “I’ve no idea. But I bet Fury does.”

“I’ll get Hill to find him.” Natasha says, pulling out her phone and leaving the room.

“I need to get to back to New York to access everything.” Tony said, suddenly “Start searching our intel, anything…” “What about the media?” Bruce suddenly said. “Should we release her photo?” Tony looked up but before he could speak Steve answered.

 "No. If we do that…” He shook his head. “The press’ll start digging and it could flush them further underground.” “Cap” Clint protested gently. “If we can get her picture out there, have more people on the lookout…”

 Steve shook his head, a miserable yet stubborn pout pulling at his bottom lip. “No.” “We are in the dark here!” Barton snapped.

 Steve turned on him, puffing out his chest. “There’s no way they did this and didn’t leave any sort of trail.”

 “A trail? Jesus Cap, these bastards grew within SHIELD for over seventy fucking years and no one noticed!” Clint snapped

 “I KNOW!” Steve roared.

Thor, who had been watching the exchange quietly up until that point stepped forward, placing his large hand on the Captain’s shoulder.

 “I know it is hard, but you need to remain calm Captain.” he said. Steve looked up at him, giving him a nod, taking a deep breath. Thor turned to Barton “I agree that we should have everyone we can hunting for little Stark, but maybe not straight away. We should regroup, get as much information as we can.” Clint nodded. “I’ll go see if they have CCTV. Maybe we can identify who else was with Ward.” Steve nodded at him as he turned and left the room.

 “I’m going to see if I can find anything outside.” Thor said “tracks, a trail…” he released his hold on the Captain leaving him in the room with just Bruce and Tony.

 Bruce had both his hands on Tony’s shoulders as the man sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. “I tried to stop them…” Tony sobbed, his head rocking back and forth “I tried, I really did.”

Steve said nothing. He couldn’t. Instead he stood impossibly still despite the ground feeling ready to crumble beneath him.

*****

Thor’s search drew a blank. So after quizzing the staff who were distraught when they realised what had happened, they took the CCTV footage and headed back to base. The jet was silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

Steve was trying to make connections. What was Coulson doing, and why did HYDRA, mistakenly, think Katie knew about it? Why had no one told them Ward was Hydra? There was no logic in any of this, other than the fact they were desperate, broken and desperate to take the one person they knew for sure had a link to the assumed dead agent. And as that thought echoed in his head, he realised Barton was right. If he had told the rest of the Avengers about Coulson, then maybe they would have taken anyone else. The fact that he found himself wishing it was one of the others instead of her made him feel slightly ashamed but he couldn’t help it. Suddenly, the jet became hot and he felt the bile rising in his throat. He spun up out of his chair and just made it to the small bathroom at the back of the jet before he threw up.

They arrived back at base just after 2 in the afternoon, and immediately went into overdrive, running facial recognition on the CCTV, Tony instructing Jarvis to sift through the files for any mention of Ward in the vain hope it would give them a clue as to where they might have taken her.

Steve was numb, for once he was failing to direct his team, so Clint took it upon himself to organise everyone, which he was grateful for. Suddenly he felt his phone ring, and he pulled it out of his pocket as fast as he could, a low grown of frustration coming from his throat when he saw it was Sam.

 “Sam, I need to keep the line clear.” He answered, sharply.

“Woah, Cap…what’s going down?”

“Katie…” Steve stumbled over his words “She’s…she’s been taken, by HYDRA.” There was a pause and then the man spoke again, four words, before he hung up.

 “I’m on my way.”

Steve slid his phone back into his pocket and took a deep breath. He needed to focus. He was no good to Katie like this. He glanced over at his team, locked eyes with Thor who gave him a nod, and he strode across to see if there was anything he could help with.

It was an hour or so before they made any decent progress.

 "We got a positive ID on one of the Agents.” Hill said as she strode into the common room, handing Steve a file. He took it and glanced down, moving the surveillance photos they had extracted from the CCTV footage to one side, reading the information in it as Bruce continued. “Eric Jones. Ex SHIELD enforcer, clearly still active in Hydra. He worked out of one of the Canadian bases SHIELD had in Toronto, it fell when SHIELD did. We’re still running facial for the others, but I’ve told JARVIS to focus on the guy that Tony said was posing as Hall.” Steve nodded.

“We have a home address for Jones.” Hill added “But we’ve no idea if he’s been there recently or…” “We’ll check it out.” Nat stood up, patting Clint on his chest with the back of her hand. He nodded and stood up just as Steve spoke again.

“How did Ward know?” he looked up and turned to Tony “how did any of them know that you were gonna be there?”

Tony didn’t look away from the window as he replied "I don’t know. The company is real, we did all our research. They’re based in Saint Paul, not far from where we were.”

 “So either Ward got wind of it and took it as an opportunity or Hall was in on it from the start.”

 “If he was in on it then why kill him?” Thor asked gravely.

“Maybe they were worried he was going to blab.” Clint shrugged.

 “When we’ve been to Jones’ we’ll head over there, see if we can dig anything up.” Clint looked at Steve who gave him a nod before JARVIS cut across them.

 “Mr Stark. Director Fury and Agent Coulson are here.” “Send them up J.” Tony said, standing up.

 Steve took a deep breath and looked at Clint and Natasha “You two wait and see what he has to say before you go. It might help.”

*****

The news Fury and Coulson gave was received as well as could be anticipated. Thor let out a loud growl, turning over his chair in anger whilst the rest of the group started to angrily chatter amongst themselves, all except Steve. He simply looked at Fury, then got up from his chair, the anger radiating from every inch of his body as he strode towards him, jaw clenching.

“Rogers…” he began but shut up immediately as the Captain’s fist connected with the former Director’s nose with a satisfying crack which rang around the now silent room. Fury stumbled backwards, falling to the floor, and he wiped at his face, eyeing the trickle of blood from his shattered nose as waved away Hill away who had stepped forwards to help him.

 “Come on…” Thor patted Steve’s chest, “this isn’t helping anyone.”

 “You knew?” Steve glared down at the director. “You knew they had the damned thing and didn’t think to tell any of us that you were tracking it?”

 “It would have blown Coulson’s cover.” Fury staggered to his feet, wiping his nose. “What he is doing has to go under the radar…” “And because of that they took her.” Steve spat “Because Ward knows she knows he…”he pointed to Coulson “is alive, and because we worked with you to take them down, they think she knows something!”

 “Let’s just break this down…” Tony sighed, rubbing his face “How did they get it? I thought the Sceptre was on Asgard?” Tony frowned, looking at Thor. “You took it with Loki.”

 “No, I took the tesseract.” Thor said. “The sceptre was taken by err…not SHIELD, well a part of SHIELD but…”

 “Why did you not tell us about this?” Clint snapped, his usual placid mannerisms now spiked with anger as he turned to Maria. “Why has it taken us raiding fuck knows how many bases, and Nova getting taken for us to find out?”

“Barton, The rubble of the Triskelion took ages to sort out, the other SHIELD strongholds had been obliterated or infiltrated at the same time” she explained “Hundreds if not thousands of things have gone missing. Files, hard drives, laptops, alien artefacts, security badges, flash drives… the list keeps growing. We didn’t know it was missing until recently!” “Recently? How recent?” “Last week.” She looked down and Steve gave a snort as Clint growled.

“You should have destroyed it.” Steve looked at Fury, “Just like everything else you had in that god-damned lab.”

“We couldn’t” Coulson looked at him, and then Steve gave a sarcastic laugh as he understood perfectly what the man was saying.

“Of course not, because you never had it in the first place did you?” “What, I thought…” Tony began but Natasha cut him off.

“Sitwell and STRIKE collected the sceptre. They were HYDRA, they’ve had it right from the start.“

The room fell silent bar silent and a large clap of thunder started outside, making them jump.

“Sorry.” Thor grumbled.

“Fuck this shit.” Clint suddenly spat out, “Nat come on, we got somewhere to be.” he turned to Steve “If we find anything we’ll let you know.” Steve nodded as the arched clapped him on the shoulder and he left.

Nat turned to him, as if she was going to say something, but she didn’t. She swallowed and gave him a nod, before hurrying after her friend. Steve looked down at the floor, which was once more spinning under his feet. Hydra would be trying to get information out of Katie that she simply didn’t have. And the thought of what they would be doing… one more he felt the bile rise in his stomach and he turned, rushing from the room and made it down the corridor to the rest rooms. He pushed open the door of a cubicle, and threw the contents of his stomach up before slumping to the floor, his knees tucked to his chest, and he let out a loud cry of frustration, anger, his chest constricting around him as the tears began to fall.

*****

 Natasha and Clint’s re-con turned up something interesting.

 “Nothing at Jones’ place, it looks like it hasn’t been lived in for months, however, when we spoke to the Deputy CEO who’s running the gaff in Hall’s absence, he recognised the guy posing as Hall.” Clint looked at him “Peter Jackson their head of IT. Ran his face through the system and turns out he’s also known as Gary Jepson, ex SHIELD technician.”

 Steve ran his hand over his face, scratching the stubble on his chin as he glanced down at the photo. He hadn’t shaved since God knows when.

 “So there’s our connection.” He breathed out and Natasha nodded

“Apparently he got the job a few months ago. Timeline tallies with when HYDRA fell. Apparently he and Mr Hall had a mutual love of American Football, they hit it off, used to go for beers at lunch occasionally”

 Tony’s head hurt “I still don’t understand where Ward fits into this?”

“They both worked out of the Fridge.” Natasha said, “At the same time. They must know each other that way.”

 “From what Coulson told us, Ward has been rallying round people he knew.” Clint spoke “And, this is all supposition, but if you ask me Jepson probably tried to go legit, melted into the background post SHIELD falling but when he gets a call from his old friend, who tells him they’re not as dead as they could he reaches out. And then when he hears about the potential deal with SIP…”

 And then it clicked in Steve’s mind. .

 “I don’t think he did hear about it.” He swallowed. “You just said he was their head of IT….” “He could have easily sent those emails from Hall’s account.” Tony gave a groan. “It was all a set up from the start.”

 *****

 It was the week before Christmas. He’d been home from university for 2 weeks and his Dad was already pissing him off. Tonight, both parents were out and Tony was babysitting. He should be out himself, he knew that, Rhodey had invited him to a party, but when Katie had turned those green eyes on him and told him she didn’t want the babysitter she wanted him to stay and ‘hang’ with her (yes, he was especially proud he’d taught his 5 year old sister the word hang) just like he used to before he went away, he’d melted and told his parents to cancel the sitter.

 They’d played a board game- Snakes and Ladders. She won the tie breaker (even though he could have beaten her). They’d then watched The Snowman (well, it was nearly Christmas), Tony doing his best Choir boy impression to make her giggle, they’d had hot chocolate and marshmallows with a candy cane stuck out of the top (yes, he knew she wasn’t allowed it after 6pm but like he gave a shit) he’d then done the whole bedtime routine of supervising whilst she brushed her teeth, but she shoved him out of the room when she needed to pee. Then he’d read her a story, tucked her in well over an hour and a half after she was supposed to be in bed, and was now relaxing with a stolen glass of his dad’s scotch (cheers Dad) in front of Die Hard.  He was about halfway through the film when he heard a small sniff in the hall and she padded into the living room clutching her Winnie the Pooh teddy.

 “What are you doing out of bed?” Tony looked at his sister “I already let you stay up way later than Mom said you could!”

“Bad dream” she sobbed. With a little sigh, he opened his arms and she clambered onto his lap. “There’s a monster under my bed.”

“Nah, I killed it last week, remember?”

“It’s a new one.” She shook her head,  looking at him.

“That so…right…” He stood up.“This calls for the Monster Killer…”

AKA the Vacuum.

Grabbing it, he marched up the stairs and plugged it in. Once it was on he dived under the bed “Get here you son of a…arrrgh…” He made a big deal of thumping the floor and yelling. Eventually he stilled and emerged, turning it off.

“Got it!”

Katie smiled and her hands went up in the air in celebration “My hero, Tones!” before she wrapped her small arms around his neck and he hugged her back.

“I’ll always protect you, Kiddo, what are big brothers for?” "Tony?” His entire body jumped as he looked up and realised it was Pepper. He shifted slightly and let out a small breath. ”Yeah?”

 "It’s late.” She told him simply, but no unkindly. "Come back to bed.”

He shook his head and looked back down at the laptop on his knee. 

“You have to get some sleep.” she sighed, crossing the room before she dropped onto the dark leather sofa besides him “I know it’s hard right now, but – “ "Hard?” he interrupted with a scoff, “Hard? Great description.”

Pepper ignored his jibe and sighed “You haven’t slept in days. We can’t take a step back to where we were after New York. You need to sleep.“

 “I need to keep up with SIP.” he said, shaking his head. “She’s got so many potential authors and projects going…I mean, I can’t let her company crash…what do I tell them all anyway? What do I tell her work force?” “I had an email sent out from HR yesterday.” Pepper said

“Saying what?” Tony rounded on her.

 “That she was on extended leave for the foreseeable.” Pepper said “In the meantime, they’re all reporting into Jenny Jones.” “Who the fuck is Jenny Jones?” Tony looked at her. Pepper took a deep breath.

“She’s the General Manager.” Pepper said “Katie hired her last week.”

He looked at Pepper before the tears sprung into his eyes “the foreseeable…” “I’m sorry.” Pepper says, “I didn’t know what to say.”

 "The foreseeable, until they realise she doesn’t know anything…and they kill her too.” “You don’t know that,” Pepper said, and her voice for the first time trembled.

 Tony looked at her for a moment, before he broke.

*****

The days bled into weeks. And nothing.  They had identified every goddamned HYDRA agent on that CCTV footage now, but they had still found nothing. When Sam had arrived they’d gone back and re-raided every fucking Hydra base they could think of. Nothing. They were stabbing in the dark, and with every day that passed they knew the chances of them finding Katie were getting thinner and thinner.

Steve had a headache. A bad one. One that felt like it was going to split his head in two. He pressed the heel of his palm to the space between his eyes in a desperate attempt to quell the pain.

“Shit, steady on Cap…”

 Steve looked up and stopped before he walked straight into Tony.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“No.” Steve bit back, before he sighed “Sorry, headache…” He looked at his fiancé’s brother, the worry evident in Tony’s face as well. In fact, it seemed the pair of them now sported that expression constantly, and had done since Katie had gone missing just over 3 weeks ago.

“I thought you were going to get some sleep” Tony said as his eyes scanned down Steve’s body, taking in the fact he was in the same jeans and T-shirt he had been at their meeting last night. Another useless meeting.

He lets out a long breath. “Couldn’t.”

“Me neither.” Tony shook his head, shrugging “Kinda hard… “

“I know.” Steve nodded, looking at Tony.

"I just…I just keep thinking,” Tony swallowed. “I keep thinking about… how I could’ve avoided this. How I should have spotted it was a trap, how I couldn’t stop them taking her…” “This isn’t your fault Tony.” Steve shook his head, thankful that he could now say this honestly. At first he had been angry, angry that the man hadn’t been quicker or able to protect his sister, but that anger had fast dissipated. Without the Iron Man suit, Tony wasn’t a trained fighter. He was physically fit, yes, but not everyone had super serum coursing through their veins. The man was as broken as he was at her being gone, his sister, daughter even, gone, without a trace.

 "I miss her,” Tony said, his soft words still cut harshly into the surrounding quiet. “I just… miss her.”

Steve dropped his gaze. He missed her, God did he miss her. They’d only been engaged, for what? Coming up three months when she was taken and were still in that excited phase of it. They hadn’t gotten down to any planning of any sorts, but that hadn’t stopped their late night, post love making discussions about it. Katie gently teasing him and stating all the things she was going to get, like doves, and fire eaters…utter bullshit of course, because she had no desire for any of that showy crap.

He missed her so much it hurt. Her laugh, her smile, the way she looked at him, her bantering with everyone in the common room, the way he would walk into a room where she was speaking with Natasha and the pair of them looked at him and broke into giggles making him paranoid, the way she kissed him, the way she felt, her hands running through his hair.

Tony cleared his throat harshly and Steve looked at him. “Me too Tony, me too.”

**** Chapter 20

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

[kumeko]

A/N: For the End of the Universe Zine, I wanted to explore a small story in a dystopian world

Summary: In a dystopian world, Keith took his small pleasures. His drives while dropping illegal goods. His ever-complaining mechanic and his low repair prices. The rare night with Shiro. He didn’t need more than that.

He definitely didn’t need Shiro’s dreams of saving everyone, of saving anyone.

…

…

…

…

“Jeez.” Hunk squatted down next to the dented motorcycle, his hand hovering over the metal like he didn’t know where to touch. Horrified, he looked up at Keith. “What’d you do this time?”

“Nothing unusual.” Keith shrugged, his hands in his leather jacket. Considering how fast he had driven to reach here, his black clothes stuck to his skin uncomfortably and he really wanted a shower. “You know how it is.”

“I don’t.” Hunk tied a dirty bandanna around his head. Keith was never sure if that was to protect his hair or if he just thought it looked cool; if it was the former, judging by the dirty overalls and grease stains on his face, it was a failed effort. “I thought transporters had to be careful.”

“Careful and quick,” Keith corrected, walking over to a side table. Pushing away the cigarette butts and bottle caps, he picked up a newspaper. Replicants Stage Coupscreamed the top headline. “And even then it’s hard to avoid the government dogs.”

Hunk tapped the side of the motorcycle and the pedal fell off with a loud clatter. Groaning, Hunk shot Keith a baleful glare. “Why? I give you a great bike and every single time you break it.”

“It’s either that or my life,” Keith pointed out. He flipped through the newspaper quickly, scanning headlines. Issues with the current president, interest rates rising again, a food shortage with no end. The same old fare, nothing at all unusual about the headlines. When Hunk didn’t say anything, he rolled up the paper with a sigh. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“…that’s what you always say,” Hunk grumbled, accepting the apology nonetheless. Pulling out his tool kit, he sat down next to the bike. “It’ll take a day or two to get in top condition.” Pointing a wrench at a grey box perched on a chair, he added, “Oh, and deliver that to Pidge while you wait.”

“Huh?” Keith crossed his arms. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a transporter?” Hunk rolled his eyes. “It’ll be the easiest job you’ve had. Nothing dangerous inside, no one chasing you. Just do it.”

Keith raised a brow. “And how much are you paying me?”

“I’m fixing your bike.” He tapped the back threateningly with the wrench. “You wanna get stuck here forever?”

“Fair point.” Picking up the box, he almost dropped it in surprise. Considering his job, Keith was pretty strong but that would just barely help him with this package. “What do you have in here? It weighs a ton.”

“Spare parts, an engine to take a part, the usual things.” Already in work mode, Hunk absentmindedly waved him off. “Just get it to her today, she has a client.”

-x-

The streets were as dirty and crowded as ever, with throngs of people flowing to and from work. Or to and from the pleasure district, to be exact. Popup shops crowded every corner, offering anything from drugs to weapons to the latest stolen technology. Neon-coloured signs hung off various buildings, enticing pedestrians to enter.

Keith pushed his way forward, his gaze firmly fixed in front of him. He hadn’t missed any of this while he was on the road. There wasn’t really anything keeping him here, fixed to this city. Hunk was a great mechanic but they were a dime a dozen, one in every town. No, to be exact, every town was the same. The same grey, the same dirt, the sense of loneliness and loss.

A world in greyscale. The only time he saw colour was when he was racing down the highway, an illegal package in his satchel.

-x-

The bells chimed as he entered Pidge’s repair shop. A small space, squeezed into the very end of a depilated building, Keith had walked past it three times before spotting it. Inside, the white shelves were lined with the latest in limb replacements, fine technology that actually made it better to lose a body part than to have it.

“In the back,” Pidge called out cheerfully, followed by the sound of metal clicks. She was with a customer then.

“I swear your place gets smaller every time I come,” Keith said dryly. A lightbulb flickered as he made his way to the back room. Even the space between the shelves felt narrower than the last time he came.

“Or you’re just getting fatter,” Pidge shot back, a pleasing lilt to her voice. Someone was in a good mood today.

“Like that’s possible.” Keith snorted, waving a package as he entered Pidge’s unofficial clinic. “Hunk wanted you to have this.”

At one point, the room had probably been a manager’s room or something like that. Now there were curtains on windows and a long bed for the particularly strenuous limb repairs. Not that Pidge’s current operation seemed like one of those. Seated on a worn-out chair, she had her latest patient sitting across from her, his mechanical arm in her lap. A man with a streak of white hair. He glanced up and Keith almost forgot to breath.

Shiro.

Shiro was back.

“Must be the parts I ordered.” Still tinkering with the arm, Pidge glanced over her shoulder. “Just put it on the table, I’ll take a look after.”

“Sure.” Keith tore his eyes away from Shiro long enough to set the box down. Shiro was back. Trying not to sound overeager, he asked, “What happened to you?”

“The usual.” Shiro winced as Pidge tried to reconnect the arm. “There was a trap. We almost got caught.”

“And then your hand got caught instead,” Pidge chimed in, closing an eye as she examined her handiwork. “What’s this, the tenth replacement? There’s a reason you’re my best customer.”

“Eleventh,” Shiro corrected with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh. It’s a good thing I don’t paste my name on these babies, otherwise I’d be dead right now.” Pidge grimaced. Somehow, Keith didn’t think that would save her for too long. Her work was too advanced, too impressive, and all it’d take was a couple of questions to find out just who made the rebellion’s general’s arm.

Taking a deep breath, Keith finally turned around and gave Shiro a proper once over. Dressed in a tank top and sweat pants, it was easy to see that there were no injuries on him. There wasn’t any blood or bandages. A relief, considering it all. It was a rare time when Shiro got away with just a broken prosthetic. Noticing his stare, Shiro smiled. “We didn’t lose anyone, at least.”

That wasn’t what he was worried about. At all. Keith crossed his arms, his eyes roving over Shiro’s biceps, his well-defined chest, and trying not to remember what it felt like to have that body curled over his. To have those hands on him. “I didn’t think you did. There was nothing in the newspapers.”

“Yeah, I guess they’d mention it if they caught us.” Shiro lowered his gaze. “Especially if they caught Allura. The rebellion would be over in an instant.”

“Rebellion.” Pidge clicked her tongue, finally setting down her tools. “You’re making it sound better than just a rag-tag of people who still think they change something.”

“We can,” Shiro answered simply.

No, you can’t, Keith thought, and perhaps more so than the world they lived in, that was the real tragedy: hope.

-x-

This wasn’t love. This was sex, pure and simple. A raw need, a primal urge. A way to forget the present. A way to feel something other than despair.

Keith bit Shiro’s throat, feeling the resulting rumble tremor through this body. Shiro’s hand interlaced in his. His nails scratched on Shiro’s back. All he could smell was Shiro’s musky scent. All he could feel was Shiro’s touch. Nothing else existed—not the road, not the government, not the possibility of death.

“Keith,” Shiro moaned, but Keith didn’t say anything back. He refused to.

This wasn’t love and therefore, he didn’t have anything to lose.

-x-

Through the half-open blinds, neon lights spilled into Keith’s bedroom. It was a spartanly furnished room, consisting of just a bed and a table. And now, Shiro, who was lying face down in a pillow to block out the light. The pinks and oranges from the street signs painted Shiro’s pale back and Keith traced familiar patterns over the many scars that littered his partner’s skin. The one on his shoulder blade, from when he’d been thrown in prison for eight months. The one on his side, from when a gun had almost hit his stomach.

Propping his head up on his hand, Keith idly touched the scar on Shiro’s lower back. Hearing Shiro’s breathing change, Keith asked, “Why do you fight?”

For a long moment, he thought Shiro was going to pretend to be asleep. Instead, he finally turned over, the sheets tangling up around his legs as he stared up at Keith. His single white lock glowed in the dim light. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“There’s no right, not anymore. Not here.” Keith dismissed the argument entirely. That was old world crap. His nail scratched line left by a blade on Shiro’s chest.

“There’s always a right. Especially here, especially now,” Shiro countered, grabbing Keith’s hand. “If I don’t fight, then who will?”

“Someone else.” Keith lowered his eyes. They had this same discussion every time, this useless argument that never changed anything. Soon, Shiro would disappear again, off on some doomed rebellion plot or the other. Maybe he’d die this time, his picture plastered on the photos.

“There’s no one else.” Shiro tightened his grip, interlacing their hands. “Just us.”

And maybe that was true too. But Keith wouldn’t stay around to find out—if he was going to be left again, he might as well leave first. There was always something that had to be transported, some job that needed doing. He’d find one as soon as his bike was fixed.

Instead of answering, he pressed his lips on Shiro’s chest, his hand already reaching down. At least during sex, he didn’t have to think these useless thoughts.

-x-

“All done.” Hunk proudly wiped his greasy hands on a dirty towel and Keith wasn’t sure if his hands or the towel were dirtier than before. Holding onto the handlebars, he glared. “At least give it a few weeks before you break it.”

“No promises.” Prying the bike free, Keith gave it a once over. It looked almost new, except for the scratch on the side. “Impressive.”

“Of course it is! Who do you think you’re talking to?” Excited, Hunk tapped on the engine. “I also spruced up the engine a bit—it’ll go a little faster than before.”

“Nice.” Sling his leg over, Keith slipped onto the seat. Turning the key, the engine purred under him. “I’ll take it for a test spin.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll count the cash.” Hunk picked up the metal box Keith left by his workbench. “It’s all here, right?”

“Yep, paid in full.” Keith revved the engine and closed his eyes. Yeah, that sounded right. “Got a job lined up for tomorrow, so you finished just in time.”

“I finished exactly on time—I said I’d be done now!” Hunk rolled his eyes, popping open the box.

Pulling out of the garage, Keith felt his mood brighten. There was something about the open road, about the one thing, the one place where he wasn’t restricted. There was freedom in flying down the road, the wind in his hair, and nothing but an archaic vehicle to keep him safe. It was a simple happiness.

There weren’t too many of those anymore.

-x-

Shiro was still at his place when he returned, and that was an oddity. Keith had almost expected to find an empty bed, their usual arrangement. Instead, Shiro was brazenly sitting on his kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.

“You’re here,” Keith said, more a statement than a question.

Shiro looked just as surprised as he felt. “I thought you left.”

“I had to grab some supplies.” Keith set his helmet on the table. Shiro was drinking from the wolf mug. His favourite mug. Did Shiro know that?

“Oh.” Shiro’s fingers curled around the table’s edges. “I was just about to leave.”

“It’s fine.” Keith entered his bedroom. It was funny. Shiro’s scent still lingered on his sheets. Picking up his first aid kit, he glanced back at the kitchen. At Shiro’s back, at the weariness in his shoulders.

It wasn’t that easy to be optimistic, was it. It wasn’t easy at all. His feet moved automatically and before he knew it, his hand was on Shiro’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Keith?” Shiro asked, looking up curiously.

“I’ll help,” Keith muttered. A pile of newspapers was stacked in the corner, remnants of him checking for any rebel news. Any sign that Shiro had died. He did that every time he arrived at a city and maybe it was time he stopped lying to himself. It wasn’t love but he would be heartbroken nonetheless if he just read about Shiro’s death and did nothing to stop it. Maybe he could show the futility of it all and drag Shiro out of the mess entirely.

“Keith…” Shiro smiled at him brightly and Keith swallowed.

It wasn’t love.

Maybe, if he said it enough times, his body would believe him.

#sheith #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #shiro x keith #vld #voltron #fanfic

[everlarkficexchange]

A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan​​​​​​

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams​​​​​​

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous] 

Rating: Mature 

Warning: Mention of whipping. Use of coarse language.

A/N: This is it…the very last chapter! Thank you to @everlarkficexchange​ - @javistg​ and @xerxia31​ ; the 2 anons ; @sunsetsrmydreams​ and to all you lovely readers! 😘

~~~

Chapter 7 + Epilogue

Taking it as a reassuring sign we’ve reached our destination, my ears prick up to the sound of engines humming and people shouting at Gale to hurry. I’m further reassured when the terrain changes from dirt and tall grasses to black steel.

This must be our ride.

Gale runs onto the steel ramp just as it begins to close and sets me down onto a cold steel seat a little further into the belly of the craft.

“Peeta!”

I look around frantically to the sound of Katniss’ voice calling out my name and see her on the opposite side trying to free herself from the restraints of her own seat as two armed soldiers on either side try to convince her to stay seated. 

“Katniss!” I shout back, awkwardly pulling myself up on my good leg only to feel Gale’s heavy hand on my shoulder pushing me back down.

“Strap yourself in. We’re about to take off,” Gale informs me.

Ooompff. I don’t have time to protest as Katniss pushes Gale out of her way and launches herself at me. I grab her tightly in my arms breathing in her scent as she peppers kisses over every inch of my face.

“My stupid leg…it wouldn’t work—” I try to explain but she continues to kiss me and I can feel the wetness from her tears on my cheeks.

“I thought I lost you,” she chokes between each word.

“Shshsh, I’m here now,” I say in a hushed tone, holding her tightly in my arms, “if Gale hadn’t shown up when he did, I would have missed our ride,” I tell her. “He saved me Katniss,” I say, lifting her chin to look at me. “Gale brought me back to you.”

Katniss lets out a shaky laugh and I flick my eyes to the side to where Gale now sits buckled to his seat, his head lowered. She kisses my lips sweetly before slowly turning to Gale, “Thank you,” she says in an almost whisper but Gale hears it and lifts his head to look at her and nods, a brief smile appearing on his face.

“The star-crossed lovers reunion can wait until we get to District 13,” Haymitch announces and I hadn’t even noticed he was sitting across from me.

“Thirteen?”

“You heard me. Welcome to the revolution lovebirds. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions and I’ll explain everything but for now buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.” We do as he says and Katniss takes the empty seat next to me holding onto my hand tightly.

As the hovercraft begins its assent, I take a moment to look around my surroundings and see most of the seats are filled with people from our district…survivors just like us.

At first estimate, I count in my head at least 200 hundred people. Amongst the small crowd, I’m surprised to see peacekeeper Darius who sits next to his look-a-like, both obviously happy to see the other and the resemblance is unquestionable. Brothers.

Haymitch begins his story by telling us about how he first joined the rebel underground after President Snow killed his family, his contact with District 13 after rebel spies discovered a plot to reap the surviving Victors for the quarter quell and how this planned attack was about freeing Panem from President Snow’s sadistic rule once and for all.

I scan my eyes further along the craft after Haymitch was done talking, hoping to find my own brothers. My breath hitches when I lock onto a small group of people unmistakably Merchant. Madge Undersee is the first person I recognise followed by a shell-shocked Delly Cartwright who has her arm wrapped protectively around her younger brother seated beside her.

But they’re not there.

“They could’ve made it out somehow,” Katniss says hopefully, noticing my gaze.

“Yeah…maybe,” I answer, kissing the top of her head softly. But deep down I know the probability is next to zero.

***

We gawk in amazement as our hovercraft lands safely in District 13. An impenetrable fortress made of concrete and steel strategically built deep underground.

Once the steel ramp of the hovercraft lowers and locks securely, a flurry of uniformed officials welcome us not as refugees but as new soldiers of District 13…a title I’m not sure I like.

We are quickly ushered towards a ‘clearance team’ waiting to check everyone, giving those who need medical attention priority. Hardly considering myself a medical priority, I’m nonetheless placed on a steel gurney and wheeled into a curtained partition of their hospital emergency room and assessed.

Katniss refuses to leave my side the whole time and holds onto my hand tightly insisting she can be checked just fine next to me, a fierce look in her eyes silently warning no one try and challenge her.

To my relief…no one does.

Temporary repairs are made on my prosthetic leg by a robotics technician and even though my gait is somewhat compromised, I’m grateful I can at least walk unaided. I’m to report to someone called Beetee tomorrow morning for further evaluation on my leg with the view of a more advanced replacement and think to myself maybe life here in Thirteen won’t be so bad.

Medically cleared, we are moved on to another team who measure us from head to toe before handing out a parcel each containing a set of clean clothes, shoes according to our size and a package labelled ‘personal hygiene’.

With parcels in hand, compartment allocation is next and my heart starts to sink knowing I’ll have to spend my nights in this place without Katniss.

“There she is!”

We both turn around to see Mrs Everdeen rushing towards us with Katniss’ sister in tow wearing the brightest of smiles. Katniss immediately locks Primrose in a loving embrace, ignoring her mother altogether.

“Gale told us you were here,” her mother says, brushing off her daughter’s cold welcome. “I was so worried Katniss. You shouldn’t have runaway like that,” she adds.

Katniss steps away and reaches her hand out for me to hold, “you gave me sleep syrup to stop me from going back for Peeta.”

“You almost scratched poor Gale’s eye out. It was the only way to calm you,” Mrs Everdeen says in her defence. Katniss doesn’t respond but I can see how much she resented being drugged. A feeling I know only too well.

“I’m glad to see you are safe Peeta,” Mrs Everdeen turns to me and says genuinely, breaking a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Katniss huffs but I smile and thank Mrs Everdeen just as an officer orders us to line up and register our details for allotted compartments.

“There’s no need for my daughter to register, she’s been assigned to the Everdeen family compartment; Katniss Everdeen; Level 32; Room 234a,” Mrs Everdeen informs the District 13 officer.

“No, I’m going to register with Peeta.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mrs Everdeen responds. “Peeta will need to reg—”

Katniss doesn’t wait for her mother to finish her sentence and leads me to the registry desk in the middle of the processing room.

“Name…age…occupation…marital status?” the registry officer asks robotically, not bothering to look up and stares at the small screen on his device waiting to key in my answer.

“Peeta Mellark…17…baker…s—”

“Married.” Katniss answers the last question for me and squeezes my hand. I turn my head, mouth gaped open in surprise but I don’t say anything and play along with the ruse.

The officer raises his head from his device and looks at Katniss, “and you would be..?”

“Katniss Mellark…17…hunter…wife of Peeta Mellark. We’re married…to each other,” she gestures, pointing her finger between the two of us. The officer darts his eyes suspiciously from me to Katniss.

Holding in an anxious breath, I feel Katniss’ grip on my hand tighten but the officer eventually lowers his gaze and types in the information, allowing us to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

I hear a shocked gasp behind us which could only have come from Mrs Everdeen but I don’t dare turn my head to look. Primrose on the other hand, rushes over to hug me first then Katniss and whispers something in her ear causing Katniss to blush.

“That’s not true! She’s too young to be married,” Mrs Everdeen informs the officer who raises his head and huffs in frustration.

“I usually keep my noise out of people’s business but I’ll make an exception in this case,” Haymitch says, appearing out of nowhere accompanied by an older soldier and by the looks of his uniform, he’s someone of high-ranking importance.

“Sweetheart and the boy technically became of age the moment they became Victors.”

Shock covers Mrs Everdeen’s face, “but she’s only been gone for 2 days and Twelve’s traditions state—”

“There is no District 12!” Haymitch exclaims. “What matters is the here and now and if they say they toasted then it’s good enough for me, he announces. “Young love, Lily…have you’ve forgotten what that’s like?”

Mrs Everdeen swallows hard and looks across to Katniss and me as her eyes begin to glisten, “no…I haven’t forgotten.” she replies softly.

“We don’t know what the future holds for any us and these two have been through a lot. They deserve a little happiness…don’t you think?” Haymitch questions. Mrs Everdeen ponders his words before eventually nodding in agreement. “Now what do you say we leave the newlyweds to themselves while we enjoy a hot cup of tea in the dining room,” he suggests.

Mrs Everdeen agrees and before she leaves, insists Katniss accompany her to the medical clinic in the morning and another blush appears on Katniss’ face but she relents.

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Mellark. Enjoy your honeymoon,” Haymitch says, giving us a sly wink before he and his friend, who introduces himself as General Maximus Jackson, escort Mrs Everdeen and Prim to the dining room.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles us both, “so…you two married or what?” the frustrated officer asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Married!” Katniss replies without pause.

The officer then looks to me for confirmation, “married,” I tell him swallowing hard and hoping the blush on my own face doesn’t give anything away.

***

Stepping into our compartment, we take a look around and see it adequately furnished with a large bunk bed, a chest of draws; a small closet and an equally small bathroom but it’s nothing to complain about.

We haven’t said a word to each other since we were given our compartment passcode. But the burning question I want to ask Katniss must wait, both of us agreeing to shower before settling in.

Although brief, the warm spray of water felt good on my skin and I quickly changed into the clothes marked ‘bed clothing’ from my parcel. When I slide the bathroom door open, Katniss is sitting on the bunk bed dressed in her District Thirteen issued pyjamas, her hair slightly damp from her shower.

Katniss raises her head to see me looking at her and I’m mesmerised by the beautiful sight before me. “Will you braid my hair Peeta?” she asks softly, offering her hairbrush to me.

My breath hitches as she leans her head back and sighs in contentment when my hands whisper over her neck and sweep the dark mane to trail down her back. I begin to brush her hair, carefully working through the knots and snags caused by our harrowing race for safety. Katniss hums as I continue until the brush moves through smoothly.

I reverently run my fingers through the long locks before dividing them into sections then gently braiding them together. I’m struck by the intimacy of the moment, bringing my question bubbling to the surface.

“Why did you lie to your mother about us being married?”

Katniss straightens her back and turns around looking deep into my eyes, “I didn’t. You baked the bread and I asked you and you agreed…remember?”

With my forehead creased in deep thought it takes only a few seconds to understand what Katniss is saying and there’s no hiding the huge smile forming on my lips, “yes.”

“I know I’m not good with words but it was the same bread you gave me all those years ago and it was perfect,” Katniss says. “You’re not taking it back are you Peeta? You do want me as your wife…don’t you?”

My hands instinctively cup her cheeks, “Katniss Everdeen, a life with you has been my fantasy for as long as I can remember. I’ve dreamt of asking you to toast with me,” I start to explain. “I’ve wanted to say so many things to you, solemnly vow to honour and keep you safe for the rest of my life, then take you in my arms and show you how much I love you,” I say, feeling heat slowly creeping up my neck as the warmth rushes to my groin.

She steps away and I immediately begin to worry I’ve said too much. Katniss searches through the pocket of her father’s hunting jacket hanging over a chair and brings the napkin she grabbed earlier today and unfolds it onto the bunk.

There in front of my eyes is the untouched triangle-shaped piece of toast and I have to wonder how it wasn’t confiscated when we were being checked over. 

Katniss smiles, the same blush appearing on her face, “it’s Katniss Mellark now but you can ask me to toast with you again if you want and the answer will be the same,” she tells me. “You can say all those words you’ve dreamt telling me…then when you’re done husband, you can show me how much you love me.”

…and so I do.

~~~

Epilogue

Katniss

My eyes are closed but there’s a sense of comfort and mellowness blossoming inside of me as I take in a deep breath to enjoy the familiar scent I’ve come to love.

In my relaxed state, it takes some effort to force my eyelids to open and when I do, my eyes focus on the edge of the bank as a paddle of ducks swim lazily across my father’s lake.

Gone are the electrified fences. The curfews. The peacekeepers.  The fear.

This was the first place I took Peeta to see after the war had ended. So many lives were lost during our fight for freedom but for now, there is peace. So, we rebuilt our towns and our families and we vowed to honour the dead by living well.

As I take in the peaceful surroundings, the smell of freshly baked bread invades my senses and all thoughts of death and destruction is forgotten when I feel a pair of warm, muscled arms wrap around my rather large and protruding stomach.

Bringing a child into this world was something I told myself I would never experience and the idea of new life growing inside of me should seem utterly terrifying. Yet as my hand rests on top of his, waiting for our little one to let us know she’s awake, what I’m feeling right now has nothing to do with fear.

I lean back into his loving embrace and instinctively tilt my head to the side allowing him full access. The moment his lips start to trail kisses down my neck, an enticing shiver courses through my body and I hum my approval with great fervour.

“We don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he whispers softly.

“No, we don’t have to be afraid,” I whisper back, as we stop to watch his favourite colour slowly disappear below the horizon.

The End

#Springtime Edition 2020 #justajjfan #prompt 83 #prompt 116 #submission

[antman-56]

I Know

“Ah Joker.”

“I know.”

Right now both Mona and Akira were being followed by a very nosy Makoto Niijima.

Right now she was behind them reading this weeks manga release.  

They had noticed her following them after the Madarame incident. He will admit he didn’t notice her until Mona said he felt uneasy. It wasn’t until they were near Untouchable that Akira felt the same feeling and quickly turned around to see a familiar face duck behind the corner of the alley.  

This has been going on for a week now. and he figured out her pattern. She would wait until he left his last class and follow him until 8 pm.

Sometimes longer when he’s with Iwai or when he was in the clinic whenever he was with Takemi-san.

“She’s doing a very bad job at being hidden.”

“I know.”

Akira found the game they played enjoyable. She tried so hard to try and find proof that he had some info on the Phantom Thieves, not knowing he was the leader. 

“What should we do then. She’s being annoying.”

“Lets just waste her time.”

“So, same plan like last time or something new?.”

“Well Takemi-san is still looking through the data and Ann and Ryuji are on a date. (Mona grew a small, sinister, dark aura on being reminded, AGAIN)  And Yusuke is being Yusuke.”

“So, how do we kill time.”

“Wanna see if Iwai needs help?”

“Isn’t that the opposite of what we want?”

“Were just being a part timer in a respectable business and being upstanding citizens on top of it.”

“Your picking up some of his habits.”

***A little later, Outside Untouchable***

Makoto just saw Akira walk into the Air Soft Store. He has visited the store quite frequently, was he a worker? A regular? Or was their something more to it? He would spend hours in there and come out later then she could actually afford to watch. 

Her sister had given her a harsh lecture when she came home at 1 in the morning.

She heard of the shady stuff that went on in there, mostly stuff with the Yakuza,  but right now she couldn’t help but worry a little bit for Akira. 

He may be a suspect in her investigation but he was still a student. Maybe he was innocent in all of this and was dragged into it? Maybe she could help him?

That was why she was ready this time.

Right at her side would be her tool in finding the first step to the Phantom Thieves.

***Inside***  

Akira was up by the register and Iwai was in the back.

Iwai knew of the problem and gladly helped Akira out. He would let him stay in the shop and fix the guns he bought as long as he helped around when their were customers or the occasional police harassment. In all honesty, he felt like he had another son.

Right now, Akira was cleaning Ryuji’s Fury shotgun, his face showed annoyance on how misused this thing looked. He was so caught up in fixing it that he didn’t notice the door being opened.

DING

Akira dropped his attention from the weapon and looked up. 

If only he could take a picture.

In came Makoto, wearing a blue bandanna over her hair, sunglasses, a biker jacket with a red shirt and black biker jeans. 

She looked like a the thug from the western cartoons.

Makoto looked at Akira with shock, worry, and fear.

Here in front of her was Akira with a shotgun in his hands.

Akira noticing what she was looking at put the shotgun under the counter.

“It’s a fake”, He said hoping it would put her at ease.

It really didn’t.

“So, how can I help you miss?” He said with his customer smile.

Makoto shook her head and meet his smiling face with her shaky stoic face.

“I’m looking for a gun for my little brother.”

She was prepared. She had a story to help her questioning and kinda hoped he wouldn’t really pry into it said story.

Akira could already see right through her. He decided to play along, just to see the panicking look on her face if she was caught off guard.

“Well what guns is he interested in? Automatics, semi, explosives, syfy, something with a kick or easy to handle?”

He couldn’t help but smile a bit more when she struggled to pick what gun her fake brother wanted.

“Automatic.”

“Well then your in luck because we just received an advanced shipment of the AR-X.”

Akira then proceeded to walk over to were the rifle was displayed, took it out. and walked back up to her.

“This baby looks as realistic as the gun it’s based on and is one of the few things that would make any gun enthusiasts in Japan jump with excitement.”

Akira showed the weapon with pride and began to explain in detail why you would want to buy it.

***Outside***

After staying longer than she should have, Makoto left. After asking questions like; what kind of customers entered the store, how often do people buy guns and if she could talk to the owner for his recommendations or to place a custom order. She realized she was hitting dead ends.

She was a bit disappointed on how things played out and kinda embarrassed that she was forced to buy a fake revolver with the rest of her allowance. 

She hoped her sister would not search her once she got home.

***Inside*** 

After she left and a few minutes went by Akira began to laugh. 

The look on her face was priceless when she tried to improvise on the spot.

And she bought a gun at the end of it.

He definetly had to tell Mona about this.

In the back Iwai gave a quiet chuckle. 

The kid was a natural.

***Two Days Later***

.”When will she give up.” Mona complained.

“Well she did try to spy on Ryuji’s and Ann’s date yesterday and they said they would owe me one if I could take her this time.”

“How about we tell her that Ryuji’s said she was annoying and then after she could kicks his-”

“Mona what did Ann say.”

“If he hurts her then I can kick his ass.”

“Before that.”

“Be nice.”

They began to discuss their plan as Makoto hid behind a fashion magazine this time. 

She was at the other end of the train car to Yongen-Jaya. 

She was speculating were he was heading off to. It was either the laundry mat or to go to that clinic. And with a little research it has a reputation of being able to heal almost everything. 

She could see him on his phone and smiling. Maybe a message about another change of heart or nothing at all. 

She had to know!!

As he exited the passenger car, she quickly followed.

He was going to the clinic.

When he entered she waited by the entrance and waited until she knew he would be in the exam room.

***Inside***

“You do know testing experimental tonics isn’t really helpful to me? Right?”

“I know but I want to waste her time.”

Tae looked at her guinea pig curiously. 

“Why would you like to waste her time? It’s not like your doing anything ill- more illegal?”

Akira was stumped. But quickly came up with an answer.

“Well I like a good laugh when see tries to be sneaky.”

“If I didn’t know any better it would sound like you like being followed.”

“You caught me, that’s my kink.”

“Whatever. Just don’t... don’t play too long with her, okay.”

Akira hummed a response as he’s laid on the Patient’s bed in the room, his arms behind his head, eyes closed and a smile on his face. His only wish was to see her face behind the glass window on the door..

Tae looked at the door and saw a silhouette. She reached for another tonic.

“Here, try this one now.”

Akira reached for it and downed the whole thing.

It tasted sweet, like the color pink.

He suddenly felt his body lighten up.

“Subject lasted longer than expected. This is should be a nice prescription for people with insomnia.”

Akira was in bliss. His body felt relaxed and his head felt light. 

The last thing he could see was Tae smiling.

On the other side of the door. Makoto was trying to brace herself from barging in demanding to know what she had done to him or from calling the police.

Tae obviously knowing she was being spied on went to check his vitals for the girls sake.

“Looks like the drug can actually help him. Kid has been having trouble sleeping.” She made something up on the spot and made sure to say it loud enough so the girl wouldn’t draw the wrong conclusions.

“Now to see how long it lasts.”

Makoto left the clinic and decided to just wait outside. 

Tae saw the silhouette move away.

“(sigh) Teenagers.”

***Much Later***

She was about to go home when he walked out of the clinic and was now walking to Leblanc. It looked like he had a skip in his step and he looked happy.

She saw him enter the cafe and then quickly leave with two thermoses.

He was on the move and he didn’t have his bag. She made sure to follow procedure.

After awhile they were now in a park. He was sitting on a table, just looking at the sky. He would drink out of his thermos every now and again. 

Was he waiting for someone? A meeting? A report? Why was he here?

It wasn’t until she saw Takamaki-san enter her view. She had an umbrella in one hand and a flashlight in the other, and was dressed prettier than she was with Ryuji. Was she- NO!! Their was no way!!

She put the umbrella over them and turned on the flashlight, so Makoto could only see their shadows.

“You know this is messed up. Right.” Ann said it more as a statement than a question.

“Ryuji is across the lake with binoculars watching the both of us. And our friend.”

“Still it seems kinda wrong.”

“We aren’t kissing or anything. And this is to make her think she’s wasting her time. I mean do you like it when she spied on your guyes date.”

“True. She did sit in the booth right next to us.”

“So, lets think she’s seeing two friends hang out. With a suggestion to make her mind explode.”

/”I CAN HEAR YOU!!!”

Akira and Ann flinched at the sudden screaming in their ear.

“Ryuji you agreed to this and nothing will happen. You think I would betray my best friend.”

“ I know but- wait I’M your best friend!!”

“You were my first friend since I got here of course your my best friend.”

Ann could do nothing but laugh at the moment her guys were having. The way the shadows looked it made Makoto wonder what were they doing. Are they dating secretly? What is making her giggle? And why dose she feel the need to scream and pull her hair out?

/“Holyt Shit!!Guys I think the last train leaves in a few minutes can we rap this up!!”

“How about we finish the show for her.”

“Lets hope for the best.”

Both Ann and Akira put their faces side by side of each other to make the illusion of them kissing to their known stalker.

Makoto just stayed in he position and covered her mouth to yell at them. She began to shake from rage but was barely controlling herself for the sake of the students who have entrusted her and the school council to help them .

After they were done they got up and began to walk towards the train station. They made sure to go by Makoto’s position.

“Thank you again for helping me with practicing for the audition for that movie Akira.”

“Anytime. I just hope Ryuji doesn't find out. That felt so wrong.”

“Well I am staring in movies from here on out. And if he has a problem with it then I guess he doesn’t have to walk the red carpet with me.”

They both continued their conversation until they reached the station and said their farewells.

Makoto let out a sigh of relief when Takamaki-san said it was for a movie role and that it wasn’t a love scandal. 

“Wait why did I do that.” She wondered.

She began to wonder why the thought of Akira with someone else made her react that way.

Either way it was late and she needed to get home otherwise her sister would have her head. Again.

***Leblanc Attic***

“Joker where have you been!!” Mona screamed.

“Just having my fun for tonight.” Akira said happily. Like a kid who just played his favorite video game.

“Well get some sleep. Last thing we need is you falling asleep in class.”

Akira complied and went to his bed. Plotting how to waste her time on her free day.

***Niijima Residence***

Makoto just got home and was thankful that today was one of the late shifts her sister has been having. 

Here she was alone and coming out of the roller coaster that was today. 

The moment after school he went to a shady doctor to test out a sleeping tonic and then he helps Takamki-san by practicing for a role for a movie? Not to mention she almost blew her cover when they kissed. Which she was still trying to figure out why she cared if he was dating someone.

But It was nothing like yesterday when she saw him holding a gun at the Air Soft Store, granted it was fake, but what would the police have done if they went in and saw THAT!!

She took a deep breath. Tomorrow was another day for her to see if he keeps it up.

He is the only lead she has about the Phantom Thieves and once she has proof of how he and his friends are connected to them, or if they’re not, then she would decide to tell the authorities. 

But right now her bed is calling for her. And she needed it.

The last thing that came to her mind before sleep overtook her was when Akira smiled at her in the park. 

She didn’t question if he knew she was their or if he knew she was following him all along.

She just didn’t care at the moment.

But apart of her hoped.

She was starting to like the game they were playing. 

#persona 5 #persona 5 akira #makoto niijima #morgana #mona #persona au #ann takamaki #ryuji sakamoto #tae takemi #light fluff #akira x makoto #wholesome #makoto x joker

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 1

[Yeah it’s for real happening because I’m weak. So here it is. I’m basically going to write out my new recruited verse because I have lost control of my life.

Shoutout to @kiealer for a mention of her OC’s healer race and the HC we have that Vegeta and co demolished most of them. :3]

Nabooru

Traveling beyond the bounds of her desert home had always been limited. Within the desert, never ending sandstorm made venturing too far from known landmarks treacherous for fear of never returning or serving as a meal for the beasts lurking beneath the sands or in caverns. Beyond the eastern border lay greater Hyrule. Lush, green, thriving. 

To Nabooru, it always felt like she was stepping into an entirely different world and not simply because of the stark contrast of weather and scenery. In her younger years, the culture shock hit her harder than more recent years. Women didn't fight and served their husband's needs and desires. It was rare that they served in government, and it was almost taboo for them to talk about it. To have an opinion of matters deemed "too dirty" for the so-called fairer sex. Most resided in the home and only the men provided. They dressed modestly, and did not speak out of turn. None of which would have bothered Nabooru had the denizens not tried to hold Gerudo women to to same standards while traipsing through Castle Town or outside of the desert. The mostly matriarchal Gerudo, where women ruled and fought and drank and cursed. Where their sexuality was celebrated and not demonized (though many Hylian men and women alike had celebrated right along with them for at least one night of their lives until the sun rose and those same Gerudo became whores and heathens once more). Who cooked and cleaned and raised children. Gerudo women did everything Hylian women did and then some. 

If the lesson didn't stick with Nabooru the few times she ventured out with her best friend, Aveil, against her will, it certainly did when she joined Ganondorf at court. When she spoke among the other delegates of Hyrule's court, it wasn't uncommon for her to face chortling, eye rolling, or grimacing. Ganondorf could then repeat the same point moments later, word for word, and be met with at least some modicum of agreement or a proper debate.

And that only touched on the prejudice spurred by anger and fear Hyrule harbored toward her people. The Civil War may have ended in a peaceful treaty, one promising unity and safety, a new beginning. But none forgot how avidly and proudly the Gerudo fought for their sovereignty until their second to last breath. The skills and power of the demons from the desert.

None of that mattered for Nabooru any more. Hyrule was far behind, somewhere in the vast, new realm of space that she could never possibly fathom before she boarded a ship primed for traveling such an expansive place beyond the world and reality she understood. She could only guess what other planets might offer her in terms of terrain or people. What her new life as a soldier to a galactic emperor entailed. But beneath the inorganic lighting and in the midst of technological advances even the brightest on her home planet could not begin to dream up, she hadn't found much opportunity to ask while she struggled to process her surroundings. Stars and debris whizzing by windows as they passed them. The words her new commanders spoke amongst themselves. 

“Remind me your name?”

It took Nabooru several seconds to note the silence that had befallen her company, curiosity and shock holding her gaze transfixed to the door that slid open of its own accord to admit them. She tried to mask the hurried step she took over the threshold as well as she could, though her continued awestruck surveillance of her surroundings--the large screens along the walls displaying information, the flashing lights, the beeps and low, mechanical hums--displayed the mixture of her curiosity and apprehension of it all no matter the measures she took to downplay them. And, when she finally found the emperor and his generals again, their mixed bags of expressions confirmed her failure. Frieza stared at her with an increasingly amused smirk, his tail tapping against the side of his chair, one a parent gives a learning child. The wide, pink general with a layer of spikes on top of his otherwise bald head and forearms grunted, his expression squished in impatience. The taller of the two sporting a green braid and a tiara with matching earrings tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, yellow eyes half-lidded in either boredom or disbelief.

Nabooru straightened her posture, mind working overtime to replay the last few seconds and figure out what sort of answer they expected her to give to a question she hoped she heard. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and hoped the blush in her cheeks was less apparent than it felt when she came up short.

“I apologize,” she bowed her head, unsure of the proper etiquette, “did you ask me something? I’m...a little overwhelmed.”

“Yes, I suppose even just this ship is quite a marvel to you, isn’t it, coming from such a technologically barren planet as yours? It has been quite some time since we recruited someone from a planet like yours.” Nabooru released the breath she held and raised her head again, returning to her full height and her hands behind her back when Frieza didn’t berate her for her misstep. A small voice inside her whispered how it wished he hadn’t whisked her away from her home, but she tamped it down like a stubborn weed before the sentiment could reflect itself in her eyes. “You will get used to it soon enough. As for what I asked, I requested your name. I like to know what to call my more promising acquisitions.”

Another fight to keep her expression neutral, her pride festering at being referred to as some otherworldly trinket that caught his eye. She lowered her head again. “My name is Nabooru, my lord. I thank you for the opportunity to serve you.” 

Bitter words on her tongue. Subjugation didn’t suit her, but laying the act on thick felt like the right move with the emperor. The whispers of his other soldiers about his temperament swirled through her mind as a constant reminder to behave if she wanted to survive. A reality that would take some adjusting to, and, once more, a role she didn’t want to play. One given without the luxury of choice.

“Splendid. Then, let’s get straight to business then.” He raised a pitch-taloned hand and the taller of the generals stepped forward. “Once we arrive at the base, Zarbon will give you the tour and enumerate your daily schedule for the time being. He will also outfit you with a proper uniform.”

Nabooru glanced between the three of them, taking the time to note that they all sported similar attire, as had the soldiers who first landed on Hyrule. She still wore the clothes she left Hyrule in: her patterned bandeau and pink pants in the typical Gerudo style along with the jewels she adorned herself in. The chest piece looked like armor of some sort, and though she never cared much for it, it didn’t look entirely uncomfortable. She wasn’t worried about the look of it either, as there seemed to be different styles and perhaps she would get lucky with one that suited her taste and figure. What did bother her was that her attire was all that she had with her to remind her of her home, her past and people, due to the instruction to pack light if anything at all. She gripped the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder; the changes of clothes she brought along felt all the more irrelevant.

She nodded as a show of understanding, sensing that resistance or questioning of the regimen set out for her would only go ignored if she was lucky. When the three returned to their own conversations about the successes of a few planetary ventures, the prospects of others to be considered in the future, Nabooru used the rest of the flight to drink in whatever information she could from them and her surroundings. What she would be expected to do. How the technology surrounding her worked or what she would needed to understand for her own purposes. The personalities of the emperor and his most trusted generals. A difficult task when, perhaps purposefully, they kept their talk clinical and impersonal. Emotionless reactions to each report, whether good news or bad.

When the ship landed at the base, a large edifice that could pass for a castle on her home planet save for its plainness and more angular architecture, Zarbon led her away from the emperor and his fellow general, his boredom once more pervasive on his immaculate face. His tone of voice matched it as he pointed out areas of interest: the mess hall, showers and bathrooms (a mild concern to her when she only saw what she identified as male bodies entering or exiting them), and the expansive halls that held the soldiers’ quarters where she would sleep. He did not spend much time discussing any of them, their functions self-explanatory enough. So Nabooru hoped. The last thing she wanted was to find that, after a long day, her bed was some sort of complicated apparatus or had some fancy voice command that made it comfortable enough for rest.

The door to another room slid open and she followed. “This is where you will have your daily lessons considering your...under educated background,” he said, the hint of a sneer on his lips. “Mostly teaching you the basics you will need to operate the most rudimentary of our tech needed to do your job efficiently along with the expectations of your role in planetary trade.”

“Trading planets?” Nabooru couldn’t help how her eyes narrowed, the implications of such a business unpleasant at best in her mind. Not to mention what that could mean for her own home. Was their fate as secure as she thought? She hid her distaste by continuing to survey the room and commit its location to memory. It looked like a fairly ordinary, all purpose classroom. Another expansive screen replaced a chalkboard at the head of the room with a metal podium in front of it. Two rows of glass-topped desks faced the front of the room. It made her wonder if others would be joining her for her lessons.

Zarbon flipped his braid over his shoulder. “Yes. Our business is in finding planets to trade or sell and readying them for such transactions in most cases. Others are used for the empire’s purposes if they’re deemed worthwhile for some reason or another. Much like yours.”

Hyrule had been lucky, then. Avoided a likely more violent takeover, potentially thanks to her people’s warrior prowess. While she doubted Ganondorf and the rest of the Gerudo would be horribly merciful when they took over, she had a feeling they would spare far more than Frieza’s forces if the decision concerning their planet had swung the other way. She would have laughed at the irony of it had better circumstances been offered for amusement.

“I see…”

“You will learn more about that here. It isn’t my job to teach you such basics.” He moved to the door and Nabooru took her cue to follow. “You will be expected to report here first thing in the morning after the first meal and your lessons will last until the afternoon meal. The rest of your day will be spent training so you can get a better handle on your ki and utilizing it in the most efficient ways for your station.”

“I mean no disrespect and I understand the need for learning the other facets of my new job, but that sounds more up my alley than sitting in a classroom for several hours.”

“Of course. It is expected of you warrior types.” Nabooru could hear the eyeroll in his voice despite her position behind him. Along with the scrunch of his nose with his next scoffed statement: “Speaking of brainless imbeciles…”

Her curiosity outweighed the split second surge in her temper over the insult to her and her people along with whoever the general had spotted in front of him. She took a step to the side to peer around Zarbon as they continued down the corridor. Three men in the similar style of armor as the rest of the crew strode toward them, a shorter one flanked by two much larger figures, the sight reminiscent of her first exposure to Frieza and his generals. The two in the back--a bald one with a mustache and the second’s large stature the only thing keeping him from being swallowed by the mass of black spikes sprouting from the top of his head down to the top of his boots--appeared to be in high spirits, excitedly discussing their latest victories and sharing in each other’s laughter. The one in the middle paid them little mind, his dark gaze only shifting from its fixed, forward position to note the two of them approaching. His lips curled into a smirk.

“Well, well. Did Frieza let you off your leash for once?” He cast Nabooru a fleeting glance but little more. His hand rose to press a button on the side of the device fitted over his ear connected to red glass over his eye. The two behind him had stopped laughing and followed suit, exchanging a glance between them. “And for babysitting duty nonetheless. Is there a demotion in your future?”

“Remember your place, Vegeta, before I have to forcefully remind you of it,” Zarbon sniffed, his haughty air rivaling that of the shorter male. Any ounce of resentment she had sensed over the task meted out to him disappeared, replaced by what she could only describe as pride in his sense of duty to Frieza. Once more, Nabooru had to dampen the urge to, at the very least, snort at the display. “I do hope the report from your latest mission is better than the last. Frieza wasn’t particularly fond of the amount of near irreparable collateral damage you and your baboons caused in sacking it.”

“Hmpt.” Movement at Vegeta’s waist caught Nabooru’s eye. What she had mistaken for a furry belt turned out to be a tail, the end of which had loosed itself from its secure position for a moment before it tucked itself back into place. “Whatever. We got the job done when all your other units failed. It’s a sad day when Nappa here can figure out the secret of their healing abilities when none of your top picks could. How many fleets failed and crawled back to base with nothing to show for it? Three? Four?”

“It hardly matters when you can’t follow simple instructions. Two prisoners is hardly recompense for the damage. But unfortunately, your fates are not mine to decide.” Zarbon twisted around to nod to Nabooru. “Come. We’ve wasted enough time with filth.”

The two larger men stepped aside as Zarbon pushed onward, and Nabooru didn’t miss the fire in their supposed leader’s or their own eyes as she passed. The seething rage bubbling beneath the surface at such a dismissal. The kind she had grown used to on her home planet when dealing with Hyrule’s court. She bit the inside of her cheek to distract her from such empathy she couldn’t afford. While she didn’t trust Zarbon either, she had no real intent of making alliances here if she could help it. She worried enough about the welfare of her people whose fate could very well be tied to her own performance within Frieza’s ranks. Whatever the story of those three tailed warriors and the animosity they had toward Zarbon and he to them, it was of no importance to her. Squabbles between ranks and authority were bound to happen in a militaristic environment.

Another door slid open and the pair entered what Nabooru could only describe as a storage room. Arrays of what she assumed were weapons lined the walls alongside cabinets and displays for the armor she would soon don. She waited near the doorway while Zarbon considered each set. “You would do best to steer clear of those Saiyans if you want to avoid trouble. Or be successful.” He picked out a set and held the pile of clothing out to her. “Before you ask, yes, it will fit. All of it stretches to even the most extreme sizes.”

When Zarbon turned around, Nabooru took that as her cue to change into the new outfit. Setting her satchel on the floor, she picked through the garments to figure out the sequence with which she was meant to put them on before undressing. She started with what looked like the pieces that went beneath the armor: a long sleeved, high neck-lined top in a deep red several shades darker than her bright hair and a matching pair of bottoms cut to cover little more than her private areas. A single test revealed that they did stretch with incredibly little resistance and enough for her to slip them on with little trouble. Though far from what she was used to, the fabric was more breathable than expected and fit her like a second skin.

She picked up the armor next, the same cut as that she had seen on most of the other soldiers save for the wings on the shoulders and hips, and the chest portion looked more suited to a feminine form. It stretched just as easily as the singlet, and she pulled it on over her head, sliding her arms through the straps. Once more, even the armor seemed to mold to her shape without being too tight or restricting her movement. 

As she tugged on the last few pieces of her new uniform--thigh high socks of the same material as her singlet and a pair of white, leather gloves and boots much like those she noted the smaller Saiyan wore--she watched Zarbon shift to another storage unit and tap in a code. A drawer popped out and, when she informed him she was decent and he faced her again, he held one of the devices they all wore over an eye in his hand. This one with orange glass.

"This is your scouter. It scans power levels and acts as a communicator, among other useful functions you will be taught in your lessons." He handed it over, and Nabooru turned it over in her hands. "I'm sure you will find it useful."

“Power levels? Like how strong another person is?”

“Indeed. No need to worry about wearing it now, but do remember to take it to your lessons.” Zarbon swept past her and back to the door, and Nabooru didn’t need any coaxing to follow. She dropped the scouter into her bag along with the rest of her belongings and shouldered it before following him back into the hall. 

"We have one more stop, the medical bay," the general continued in that same bored tone, but Nabooru noted a flicker of what she assumed was excitement over the prospect of finishing the task so beneath him and returning to his proper duties. "Its use is what you would expect, of course. It is where we will part ways. You will have your translator chip installed. By the time you wake up, it will likely be dinner. After you'll have time to do as you please for now. Fill it how you wish."

She almost failed to register any other information that followed the first bit. "Translator chip?" She felt dumb asking so many seemingly obvious questions. "Installed how?"

"It is a simple and near painless procedure," he responded, his sigh just barely held back. "We all have them for ease of communication. The task of learning every language in the universe would be all too time consuming, and not everyone can speak the galactic standard."

Nabooru nodded despite the discomfort she felt over what sounded invasive and too foreign for her liking. The reason behind it made sense. She had taken the time to learn as much of the other languages of Hyrule as she could, and to describe the endeavor as time consuming put it lightly. Not to mention the imperfection of it. In the time she left her home, she had only gotten a taste of the vastness of the universe. If it took her years to get a grasp on just a handful of languages, it would take eons to manually learn all the languages of every race in the universe. Reasoning through it, deeming this chip useful, still did nothing to ease her apprehension.

The double doors to the medical bay slid to each side and admitted them into the sterilized space so unlike the healing ward back home. Several tanks lined the far wall, and more screens lined half of the one adjacent to it The doctors wore the similar armor the rest of them did, though the one who approached the pair from the rows of cots on the other end of the room wore a white robe of sorts beneath his armor. His bushy orange eyebrows and beak-like snout made him resemble a rotund, wingless bird.

The conversation he and Zarbon held between one another was clipped and short, all business and no filler about the reason for their visit--one the doctor had been made aware of and prepped for prior, he proudly noted--as well as a discussion over new recruits to the medical bay and their adjustment. From the sounds of it, they were the prisoners he had mentioned in the conversation with the Saiyans. She had to keep herself from snorting when the doctor discussed a certain reluctance to help; if she didn't fear her own rebelliousness would trickle down to the fate of her people, she might not be so compliant. Piecing together the brief tiff in the hallway with this information suggested they had little left to lose.

Zarbon turned to her once more. "This is where I take my leave. Keep to your schedule and don't cause trouble. Frieza may have chosen you specifically out of a gaggle of mediocre warriors, but that does not mean you're valuable."

With a toss of his head and one last pointed glare, the general left her alone with the doctor and a smoldering combination of helplessness and anger searing her heart and lungs. He wasn't wrong; that she had no reservations about. But hearing it, feeling it in the presence of these warriors, generals, and other help within the base, she could not deny her expandability. How her rank on her home planet meant nothing now, and she had been kicked from the top to the bottom, her life of hard work and pushing herself to fight better and harder than the next Gerudo, learn everything she could to improve her station, all she did to earn rank and respect among her people had been reduced to cinders here. She was starting over with no real idea where she was headed. Where she could head, if anywhere at all.

Survive. That's what she had been taught to do first and foremost. The costs of survival, of not endangering the deal made to ensure her people got the better life she always wanted for them, would have to be worth paying.

The doctor led her to one of the tables and instructed her to lie back, the cool metal on the few portions of skin left uncovered making her shiver. She listened for a moment to the explanation of the procedure--a gas to put her under, an incision behind the ear, and just a bit of prodding around in her brain--before she decided that her ignorance of it would keep her from bolting. He fitted a mask to her face and told her to simply breathe deep and count backward or recite some poetry. Nabooru hardly made it through a line of a Gerudo poem she did happen to memorize before the gas clouded her brain and muddled her words. Her eyes fluttered closed, the tension in her body eking out of her, her hands balled into tight relaxing as she succumbed to sleep.

#:: nabooru ☀ #:: u7 recruited ☀ #// vegeta ♅ #fic: recruited #pre-z shit is my jam #and im glad to be writing shit in that realm

[quicksilversquared]

The Felix Fiasco:Chapter 2/2

AU of the episode Felix

Instead of cutting off what his father was going to say, Adrien inadvertently let Mr. Agreste out himself as Hawkmoth. With some help from a friend- and some surprise visiting family members- and a bit of luck, Paris might just find itself one supervillain down by the end of the day.

links in the reblog

Felix had had his story all ready when he stepped in the house. He had been taken off guard by the news, of course, and had run on impulse. Ever since the first akuma had showed up all he had heard was about how much of a villain Hawkmoth was, so of course his first reaction wasn't to be all-in. But he had had time to sit alone and think about it, and- well, he wanted his mom back, of course, just like his father did. And magic could do that, so- well, he wanted to know more, and to see his mom, if possible. After all, it had been ages, and he missed her.

And Adrien's father and Nathalie ate it up. There was no suspicion at all.

Seriously, how were these people supervillains? Sure, Felix was confident in his acting abilities- that was why he had agreed to this whole thing in the first place, because he was positive that he would be able to weasel his way through the situation- but he had figured that there would be more persuasion involved, them drilling him to make sure that he wasn't about to run off again and immediately report them to someone once he knew more. There had been some questions, sure- they had wanted to know if he had told anyone, to which they got a very quick "no!"- but nothing like what he had expected. Apparently the desire to see his mom again made "Adrien" turning to the dark side completely believable.

And then his mom and Adrien- or, sorry, "Felix"- arrived, and they had to interact normally, but as each other.

(At least Adrien had thought to have them practice that part in Marinette's room after they switched clothes. If they hadn't...well, Felix had far less confidence in Adrien's acting abilities, even if Adrien was the one between the two of them to do voice acting and shoot commercials.)

"This is nice and all, but Adrien and I were in the middle of something before you arrived," Mr. Agreste said after a few minutes of- well, admittedly awkward conversation. Felix's mom had apparently decided to continue on with the main reason for their visit- getting back the rings- and that was making Mr. Agreste less than thrilled. It probably was keeping him from getting suspicious, though, considering that Amèlie could have a one-track mind when she wanted to and her not bringing the topic up would be strange. It was a trait that ran in the family, really, so Felix refused to consider it a bad thing. "If you could, ah, wait-"

"They could hang out in my room!" Felix blurted, mimicking what he could remember of his cousin's eagerness as best he could. He gestured widely up the stairs. "There's a foosball table, and, uh..." He wracked his brain. What else had Adrien told him was in his room? Hopefully things hadn't changed too much since his last visit. "A climbing wall, and- well, you'll see."

"Thank you, Adrien!" Amèlie told Felix, beaming. She placed a hand on Adrien's shoulder, clearly ready to guide him up to the room, and then cast a disparaging look at Mr. Agreste. "Hopefully we'll get to hang out with you soon enough. Don't keep my nephew from me for too long, Gabriel."

Mr. Agreste only gave a short jerk of his head that might be interpreted as a nod, landing a heavy hand on Felix's shoulder and steering him forcefully towards what- if Felix was remembering correctly- was his office. Nathalie shut the door behind them, flipping the lock.

For the first time, Felix was nervous. This wasn't going to end in, like, human sacrifice or something, was it? It was all fine before, when they were around other people, but now Felix was on his own. If something went sideways...

No. His uncle wouldn't hurt the boy who he believed was his own son, right? Right-

-no. In a flash, Felix remembered what Adrien had said that had gotten his mom so enraged. Adrien had been attacked by akumas before- targeted by akumas, even, and Mr. Agreste had akumatized himself and attacked Adrien. Maybe it was just because stuff would likely be put back at the end of the attacks and so a little danger was considered acceptable, but that didn't exactly make Felix any less nervous.

"Your mother is down below the house," Mr. Agreste told Felix, guiding him to a specific section of floor in front of a painting of his aunt. It was weird. "We'll have to take the elevator. It's really only designed for one person, but we can make it work for two."

"An elevator? Where?" Felix asked at once, glancing around. He wasn't seeing any doors around in the too-open, too-clinical room. "In here?"

"In the floor, obviously." Mr. Agreste leaned forward, pressing several spots on the painting- buttons! Before Felix had a chance to memorize the pattern, they were going down, down, down. They passed another track that headed to the side and then- if Felix's eyes weren't deceiving him in the dark- upwards, and just kept going down.

Felix had decided: he Did Not Like This.

"It was quite difficult to get all of this installed without anyone noticing," Mr. Agreste commented idly as the elevator went down. "I had to call in a foreign company, make some payments to keep them quiet- not that they ever saw your mother or her condition. I had to keep her in one of the back rooms for a bit- it was quite dicey, making sure that neither you nor the household staff went back there. But the cavern already existed, and some of the scaffolding, so it wasn't quite as expensive as I had worried."

Felix had to struggle not to comment at that. How much of the money he had spent had actually belonged to Mr. Agreste, and how much had come from the Graham de Vanily family fortune? Surely he wasn't making that much money off of the fashion business, considering that everything Gabriel sold was either regular clothes with a brand stamped on them and sold at a huge markup, or absolutely hideous "fashion" that Mr. Agreste dreamed up, at least as far as Felix knew. The quality of the designs had definitely taken a turn for the worse after his aunt vanished, which suggested that either she had been doing a fair bit of designing herself or had simply been in charge of the editing.

"It was quite hard to keep you from noticing, of course, but I had hoped to pull off this whole thing without you knowing at all." Mr. Agreste paused as the elevator slowed and they descended into a huge cavern. Felix was not particularly comfortable knowing that this existed under his cousin's family's mansion- like, who had decided to build a house over this? It should have just been a park, and that way when the ground inevitably decided to collapse, there at least wouldn't be a building over it. "But it has dragged on for long enough now that I- well, Nathalie, at least- thought it might be a good idea to let you in on the secret, and you can be our eyes and ears on the outside."

"What do you mean, Father?" Felix asked, cringing on the inside. Having to call someone else- and someone as awful as Gabriel Agreste- father, so soon after his own dad had died...well, he would rather pass. But if he wanted to act convincing, he needed to address Mr. Agreste just like Adrien would. At least Adrien normally called Mr. Agreste father instead of dad, because Felix really wouldn't have been able to stomach that. Perhaps the two words were technically very similar, but it was just different. "How could I possibly be any more helpful than any news coverage? The Ladyblog has quite a bit of content."

"It has dropped in both quality and quantity recently. Both because your friend Alya has decided to trust Ms. Rossi and her stories, and because she's become so distracted by that DJ boyfriend of hers that she's not following the attacks as often." Mr. Agreste sniffed, leading the way off of the elevator even before it fully came to a stop "Typical teenaged romance single-mindedness. Foolish, and something that they will no doubt regret later on. They have become blind to everything except for each other."

Felix glanced away as though he was uncomfortable with how his- well, Adrien's- friends were being discussed, but inside he was trying not to roll his eyes. Adrien's friends were obsessed with each other? That was rich coming from the guy who had turned into a supervillain in an attempt to save his wife and had rather deliberately put his son in danger multiple times for the same reason.

(Also, this cavern was insane. There were rusting metal walkways over moving water below, and an opening somewhere up above that was shining light down at the cluster of plants at the far end, and- well, it was weird.)

"But you, Nathalie, and I can discuss specifics later," Mr. Agreste told him. "I know Nathalie had some ideas. It will require working in tandem with Ms. Rossi- she's one of my allies, though I don't know how much she suspects."

Felix blinked. "How- how much she suspects? What have you told her?"

"Very little. She is acting on my requests as Mr. Agreste- requests to deliberately get people upset enough to akumatize. Oh, don't look like that, you know that it causes no lasting harm," Mr. Agreste snapped when surprise and disgust slipped onto Felix's face. "And she is slippery enough to smooth things over again afterwards. But she's also been very cooperative with Hawkmoth, agreeing to become akumatized even without emotions clouding her judgment." He sent Felix a considering look. "You could do the same, actually. I'm sure it's something that Nathalie has thought of. With cooperative akumas, I can plan a design and powers in advance, instead of having to come up with them on the fly."

...Felix did not like this Ms. Rossi character already. He also wasn't sure who she was- she wasn't one of the people that Adrien had mentioned- and he didn't want to say anything that would give that away.

"But enough about that. You wanted to see your mother." Mr. Agreste headed up the walkway, shoes clicking with every step. "This way, stop dithering about. We don't have any time to waste- your aunt will start nosing around if we take too long, no doubt, and I shudder to think of what her reaction might be if she gets wind of this." Even from behind, his scowl was evident. "She's too nosy for her own good. The sooner she and your cousin leave, the better."

Felix had to force back the absolute rage at that. How dare his uncle call his mom nosy. Granted, maybe she sometimes was- he got irritated with her prying at times, he was a teenager and wanted his secrets, darn it- but for Mr. Agreste to say that, as though what he was doing wasn't a hundred times worse?

It was absolutely hypocritical.

"And here we are," Mr. Agreste announced, stopping in front of a tube... thing. He pressed a button, and the sides retracted to leave a glass case, with Emilie Agreste laying inside on a padded surface, deathly still.

It brought back memories in a rush, memories that Felix would have rather stayed deep inside. Memories of his father laying in a coffin- narrower than this one, to be sure, and wood instead of metal and glass- but with that same cream-colored silk padding and arranged in that same position, down to the flower bouquet held in his hands. Those waxy, too-pale cheeks, everything a little too neat and perfectly done up to truly look alive.

He wanted to be sick. Why couldn't Mr. Agreste have his wife on a bed, or at least in something far less coffin-like?

"She is alive," Mr. Agreste was saying, stepping closer to the foot of the- he was going to call it a chamber, Felix decided- and resting a hand there. "And the machines- they're to keep her stable. She was using the Peacock Miraculous even though it was broken. She was trying to be helpful, and this is where she ended up." He gazed up at his wife, clear longing on his face before he shook it off, his expression shuttering as he turned back to Felix. "Once I get the Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculous- well, I want to use the ultimate power to change history, so that she wouldn't end up here."

"Won't there be a price, though?" Felix asked. He and Adrien had talked about it while they were swapping outfits and hairstyles and buffing out the few differences in their facial features with makeup, and Adrien had assumed that any wish made with the two main Miraculous had to result in kickback somewhere. Frankly, Felix had to agree with his cousin's assumption. That made a lot of sense. "A consequence for changing things?"

Mr. Agreste shrugged. "Perhaps. But I'm not going to concern myself about that right now. My kwami, Nooroo, had been most unhelpful about giving me information about that!" His voice rose with every word and Felix cringed back automatically.

He wasn't ever going to be jealous of his cousin ever again. Maybe they had both lost a parent- and maybe there was a possibility that Adrien's mom wasn't completely lost- but at least Felix's remaining parent cared about him. She wouldn't raise her voice, and she wouldn't look at him like Mr. Agreste had looked at "Adrien", all closed off and uncaring.

If Felix hadn't already felt bad for his initial plan to screw up his cousin's reputation as payback for Adrien not coming to Felix's father's funeral before, he definitely would now. It couldn't have been more obvious that his cousin already had enough to deal with.

"Master, I'm not allowed to say more!" a high-pitched voice protested, and Felix startled as a small purple creature appeared over Mr. Agreste's shoulder. "And it's unpredictable, and-"

"That's enough." Mr. Agreste swatted away the small fairy, focusing back on Felix. "I will interrogate Ladybug and Chat Noir's kwamis once I get my hands on them, and I will find out the best way to go forward. You don't need to worry about that."

Felix would beg to disagree, but he thought that it was probably not the best time to knock heads with Mr. Agreste. So he decided to turn to a different topic.

"What was Mom trying to do with the Peacock?" Felix asked, glancing back up at his aunt. "Who was she trying to help?"

Mr. Agreste frowned deeply, letting out a loud sigh. "She was trying to come up with a magic solution to cure your uncle's illness, to help him and possibly you and your cousin as well." He glanced up at Emilie again. "She fell into a coma before the test results came back telling us that neither of the two of you had inherited the genes for his disease."

Felix blinked. He knew that he had gotten tested to see if he had the genetic disposition to get the same illness that had killed his dad, but why- why would Adrien? They were related on his mom's side, not his dad's. "Inherited his disease? How- how would h- I inherit Uncle's..."

Mr. Agreste spared him a short look. "There were fertility issues, I thought we told you this before, Adrien. I mean, perhaps we didn't mention that your uncle helped out, but I thought that would be obvious enough."

Wait. He and Adrien were genetically brothers?

Well, that would explain how they looked similar enough to pass for each other with a clothes change, a hairstyle switch, and a little bit of hasty contouring with some makeup to cover up the few differences. Felix had known that technically, if one just considered genetics, that the two of them would be half-brothers since their moms were identical twins, but this...

Well. Felix had wondered how he and Adrien had ended up looking so alike when their fathers looked absolutely nothing like each other.

"Ah," Felix managed instead, deciding not to make any comments about how really, it was probably for the better that Mr. Agreste hadn't been able to have kids. Unlike Felix's own father, Mr. Agreste was- well. Not exactly model material, to say the least. "That- yes, okay."

He would have to ask Adrien how much he knew about the whole fertility issues thing, because he had never been told. That- that seemed like the kind of thing that would be really important to mention, like, years ago.

Also, did Mr. Agreste ever share information with his son in a way that didn't involve dumping it in one abrupt, overwhelming go? That seemed like it might be somewhat damaging.

"I'll admit, we should have done an exam for potential health problems first and made sure that everything came back healthy, but your aunt and uncle offered and Emilie seemed quite fond of the idea, so we were a bit lax on our screening." Mr. Agreste's face pinched, clearly irritated. "Not that it would have been easily available at the time, anyway. Add in the fact that we were rather fond of the idea of knowing the donor, instead of having it be some faceless, homely nobody who might have a dozen kids already across the country, and- well, never mind that. Your screening came back clear, after all, and with Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous, we will fix the damage from the broken Peacock and get your mother back."

"I- right."

"But I think that's enough information for now. We don't want your aunt to come snooping because we're taking too long." With another press of a button, metal shutters closed over the glass chamber and Gabriel Agreste turned, leading the way back up the walkway. Felix glanced back once before hurrying after him, trying his best not to fall behind. "With your help, now, we'll be able to get the Miraculous in no time and have your mom back with us. Like I said, it will very likely involve you working with Ms. Rossi, and I expect you to be on your best behavior with her. If we can get Ms. Dupain-Cheng akumatized...she has avoided my butterflies on more than one occasion now. I suspect that she would make quite the powerful akuma. Her creativity could make her more than a match for Ladybug."

Felix only just hid his disgust at that, instead turning a distressed look on Mr. Agreste. "But- but Marinette is my friend!"

"Akumatization causes no long-term harm, Adrien, we have already been over this. And I thought it would be obvious enough already considering how many times some of your other friends have been akumatized. It's not as though her akumatization would be any different." Mr. Agreste sent him an exasperated look. "If it would distress you that much to upset Ms. Dupain-Cheng, then Ms. Rossi can take care of that bit. You would just need to stay out of the way and not rush after her to try to offer comfort."

Felix knew full well that Adrien would never agree to that, not after Marinette had pulled him in and offered comfort during his breakdown. Still, he had to agree- or at least pretend to. "I- I'll try."

Mr. Agreste's lips flattened. "No, Adrien, you will. There is no try. I am not asking for an impossibility here."

Felix swallowed a sigh. He wasn't surprised, really. "Yes... father."

"Good. And I plan to change the timeline, to keep your mother from ever falling into a coma in the first place, so Ms. Dupain-Cheng won't even remember her akumatization." They stepped onto the platform, and Mr. Agreste tapped the button that would take them back up. Felix tried his best not to scowl as they ascended into the dark tunnel again, trapped with no space to step back and away from the madman that was his uncle. "So you see, I am not the villain after all. Paris will not remember this, if all goes to plan, and we will have your mom again."

For a moment, Felix was almost tempted to forget the whole stop Hawkmoth thing. If Mr. Agreste changed the timeline- would he change it so that the Peacock wouldn't be broken, and Mrs. Agreste might actually be able to find a cure before his dad died? After all, it sounded like she had been trying to find a cure for all of them, not just in case Adrien had the same condition. But...

Well, all signs pointed to it not being a particularly good idea for him to trust Mr. Agreste's stories. He was clearly a madman, and it was incredibly likely that there would be consequences for such serious magical tampering. Maybe their immediate family wouldn't see those impacts- or maybe they would, and Felix would lose his mom instead- but either way, Felix knew deep inside that his dad wouldn't approve.

They went up and up, and Felix turned his attention to his secondary plan- stealing the Miraculous. Adrien had guessed that it was hidden under that hideous ascot- not that he had actually seen the pin, he was just assuming based on where he had seen Hawkmoth wear his Miraculous- and getting it unnoticed would be difficult unless he could figure out a plan. Maybe he could pretend to lose his balance and fall against Mr. Agreste, but how to make that look realistic...

Despite his earlier show of confidence, stealing the Miraculous was always going to be a long shot. Rings were easy, and bracelets. But pins, and particularly hidden ones?

Felix shifted, shuffling his feet as though uncomfortable- and that wasn't hard to act at all- and was about to 'trip' over his own feet when the elevator gave a sudden jolt. Felix's carefully-planned 'fall' turned into a real one, right against Mr. Agreste's chest.

And as luck had it, right against the bottom edge of Mr. Agreste's ascot. As the elevator gave another jolt- good god, please don't let it actually break now- Felix let his hand slide under the ascot (a clip-on, how utterly tasteless and embarrassing for a fashion designer) and felt the bottom of a pin at once- hopefully the Miraculous, and not just a normal pin. As Mr. Agreste's attention was on cursing out the elevator system and trying to keep them upright and not getting their clothes caught in the few bits of exposed machinery, the pin practically shifted itself into his hand and Felix unpinned the Miraculous, letting it slip out of his hand and up his sleeve, trying not to flinch as the pin suddenly changed shape.

Somehow, miraculously, it was mission complete. And his uncle seemed none the wiser.

With one more jolt, the elevator started moving normally again, just as though the near-breakdown hadn't happened. Felix frowned against the darkness, then narrowed his eyes when he caught a glimpse of something small and dark up above, something that vanished into the shadows before he had a chance to get a better look. There was another flicker of movement on the other side of the tunnel, but it too vanished before Felix could figure out what it was.

"Do- do we have rats?" Felix asked, still frowning into the darkness as they continued upwards. "I thought I just saw something."

"Perhaps. The cavern is not exactly completely insulated from the world, so while I shudder to consider it, it's not impossible. Did you see something?"

Felix shrugged, taking a step back- well, as much of a step as he could, without risking stepping too far back and into the walls they were moving past- and letting his hands fall by his sides again. The Miraculous slid back down his sleeve and into his hand, and Felix pocketed it at once. "I thought I saw something small moving along the side of the tunnel, but it's too dark to see."

Mr. Agreste just let out a noncommittal hmm.

After another few seconds, the floor above split and they ascended into the office. Nathalie glanced up as the elevator platform clicked into place on the floor, giving them a brief smile and nod before returning to her work. Felix stepped away from Mr. Agreste at once, giving himself a bit of breathing room.

"I don't think that I have to remind you not to tell anyone," Mr. Agreste instructed him sternly. "Don't make me regret trusting you. I know that you want your mother back as badly as I do, and this is what we need to do. The opinions of the city do not matter."

"Of course, Father," Felix lied at once, very aware of the weight of the Butterfly Miraculous against his leg. "Should I go check on Felix and Aunt Amèlie now?"

Mr. Agreste nodded, leading the way over to the door and unlocking it. "That would probably be for the best. If my memory serves me correctly, your cousin has rather sticky fingers. You wouldn't want too many things to go missing."

Felix very nearly felt offended, but then promptly remembered that his original plan for their visit to the Agrestes had included snitching his cousin's phone and just now, he had stolen his uncle's magic jewelry and was planning on trying to steal his ring for his mom if possible.

Maybe he did have somewhat sticky fingers, but only when he had a goal. It wasn't as though he was a common pickpocket.

"Of course, Father," Felix said again, stepping out of the room. "Will we see you at dinner?"

"No, I've wasted quite enough of the day already, so I'll be taking my meals in the office as usual," Mr. Agreste told him. He scowled. "No matter what opinions your aunt has on the matter."

Felix tried not to smirk. His mom would absolutely be vocal about that, and it would be hilarious to see the face-off. Mr. Agreste well deserved her ire, after all. "Right. I'll see you later, then."

He didn't get a response, and he hadn't expected one. After lingering another half-second, Felix trotted up to Adrien's room, hoping that his memory would serve him right and his cousin hadn't changed rooms or anything since he had last visited. Thankfully, the door handle he remembered gave, and Felix stepped into the room that he remembered, excessive even by rich people standards. His mom and Adrien were there, hovering anxiously by the door. They both let out a sigh of relief when they saw Felix, letting him into the room at once and locking the door behind him.

"How did it go?" Amèlie wanted to know at once, ushering him further into the room and handing over a makeup wipe and a comb so that Felix could start putting his appearance back to right. "Did you see Emilie? Did your uncle suspect anything?"

"Well as it could have, I suppose." Felix shrugged. He hadn't been ill despite the- well, despite the reminders of death and coffins that he really hadn't needed- and Mr. Agreste hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. "I saw Aunt Emilie, yes, and I don't think he suspected anything, and, well..." Felix let a small smile slide onto his face, reaching into his pocket and pulling his hand back out, opening it where both his mom and Adrien could see. "I managed to grab this when the elevator malfunctioned on the way back up."

The twin gasps this time made Felix grin. Amèlie reached out as though to take it, then drew her hand back. "That- you're sure that's the Miraculous?"

"It sprouted wings after I grabbed it, so I assume so, yes." It had been so hard not to react when he felt the brush of wings sprouting out of the Miraculous, but Felix had managed it. He tapped it, a little curious, but- no. He couldn't want it. He wasn't going to be like his uncle. Felix refused. Besides, the Butterfly itself really couldn't do much beyond make tacky villains in an attempt to take Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous, and considering that his uncle had been trying and failing to do that for ages, the likelihood of Felix actually succeeding in a much shorter timeframe- after all, a non-zero number of people knew about his plan to get the Miraculous- was pretty much nil. "And, well. I managed to get this set up before coming into the house, and it's a good thing, too."

Felix pulled his phone out of his pocket, finally hitting the end button. The screen blinked up at him, announcing that he had been recording for just over forty minutes and his phone's storage was nearly full. It had been a last-minute idea, really, but he was glad that he had thought of it now. His uncle had said quite a few interesting things, and it would be important evidence soon enough.

Adrien grinned as soon as he recognized what Felix was holding. "That's great! More proof for Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"I'll make some copies of the file this evening," Felix told them. He turned his attention to Adrien. "Do you know of a Lila Rossi? Apparently she was freely working with Hawkmoth."

Adrien's jaw dropped, and then a slow grin spread onto his face. "No way! That's great- I mean, it's- well, she's a terrible person," he hastened to explain. "She likes lying to get her way, and it's frustrating to listen to, but if we fight her, then she might get akumatized and cause a lot of problems. I know Marinette has been butting heads with her a lot, and Ladybug loathes Lila, so for Lila to be ousted as willingly working with Hawkmoth..."

Felix smiled at that. "Yes, I gathered that she might not be the kindest character. Mr. Agreste was talking about having her deliberately upset people to get them akumatized, and apparently your friend Marinette was next on his hit list."

"He- what? No, he had better stay away from her, how dare they go after Marinette-"

"Oh, is she your girlfriend?" Amèlie asked in delight. "I did wonder, since you two seemed quite close, but I didn't want to pry, it didn't seem the time."

Adrien promptly turned pink, which seemed like a pretty clear answer to Felix, but he was also shaking his head. "No, I- we're friends! And she does so much for all of us, to help everyone out and keep people happy so that people don't get akumatized, and so for them to target her..."

...yeah, Felix's cousin was pretty obviously sweet on this girl. Before Felix could call Adrien out on that, though, there was a knock on the window and Ladybug waved at them from the other side. Felix stepped that way, ready to hand over the Butterfly Miraculous at once, but Adrien stepped in front of him.

"I want to make sure that it's actually Ladybug," Adrien murmured, just loud enough for Felix and his mom to hear but not Ladybug, who was still standing outside of the window. "The Peacock is still out, and we've seen some odd sentimonsters recently. You put yourself in danger to get this, and I don't want to lose the Miraculous right back to Nathalie again."

Felix nodded, letting Adrien take the lead. He wasn't sure how Adrien was planning on ensuring that this Ladybug was the real one, because Felix was pretty sure that his cousin wouldn't know anything more about Ladybug than any other person in Paris did. He could admit, though, that the timing seemed pretty strange, since how would Ladybug know to come now?

"Hi, Ladybug," Adrien said, pushing open the window and stepping aside to let Ladybug in before Mr. Agreste or Nathalie could spot her on the security cameras. "Um, how are you?"

"I'm- well, I've had an interesting day," Ladybug said, rubbing the back of her head. "Marinette waved me down when I was out for a run- I had heard horns and yelling, so I thought that there was maybe an akuma out and so I was searching- and told me about your father and that, well..."

Adrien nodded. "That he's Hawkmoth."

"And that you were maybe going to try to get the Miraculous, if possible." Ladybug glanced between them. "So I was mostly curious about what more you had learned, and if you maybe...?"

Adrien nodded, then paused. "Ah, one quick question, just to be safe- when Jackady was attacking the house, what did I do when I got to my room?"

Ladybug blinked, clearly puzzled by the question, but only for a moment before her expression cleared in understanding and her cheeks turned pink. "You, uh, went to go take a shower."

"And what did we talk about after I came out?" Adrien asked, just as pink as Ladybug was. She smiled at him, bright and happy.

"I saw the picture of your mom on your computer screens...and I said that you had your mom's smile."

"Okay," Adrien said, nodding and flashing her a wide grin. "Thanks, I just- I just had to make sure."

Ladybug nodded, smiling back. "That's fine. I understand wanting to be careful, and I appreciate that. It's really smart."

There was a pause.

"I got the Miraculous," Felix announced when it seemed as though neither Ladybug nor his cousin were about to speak. He produced it from his pocket. "I understand the Peacock is still at large, but I didn't want to push my luck with trying to find it."

"It's not worth it, not when we know who has it," Ladybug agreed. She took the Butterfly Miraculous, popping open her yo-yo as she did. After another good look at the pin, she tucked it into the yo-yo and snapped it shut. "That's incredible that you were able to get it. I would have thought that Mr. Agreste would have been too protective of the Miraculous to let anyone get close to his neck."

"I got a lucky opening and I have practice swiping things unnoticed," Felix told her, ignoring the fact that anyone would be able to figure out that there wouldn't be many positive applications of that particular skill. That was entirely beside the point. "I also got an audio recording of my entire experience with Mr. Agreste and our visit downstairs. I'll be making a copy of it tonight- mom, what hotel are we staying in?"

His mom frowned, thinking. "I don't recall- it's not the Grand Paris, I know that much, because the last time we visited and stayed there, it was a bit too expensive even for my tastes and I wasn't particularly impressed by the place. It reads as more of a bragging rights project than an actual high-end hotel, so I decided to go elsewhere." She frowned in thought for a moment more and then smoothed out her expression automatically- after all, she couldn't get frown lines, that wouldn't be nice- before digging out her phone and navigating to her email, showing Ladybug the confirmation email before tucking the phone back in her pocket.

"Here, I can give you a USB drive now," Ladybug said, popping one out of her yo-yo. Felix tried not to stare, because seriously, how many functions did that thing have? But maybe he shouldn't be surprised, because it was magic, of course it could do whatever Ladybug wanted. "And then I can pop by later?"

"Well after dinner," Amèlie told her. "We're staying here for our evening meal, and then leaving an hour or two later, as though we were taking the last train of the evening out of the city."

Ladybug nodded in understanding. "Okay, I think I know when that is. I'll give you some time to get settled in before I stop by. And I thank you for turning the Miraculous over. I know not everyone would. The idea of powers like that- well, it's too much for some people to resist."

...well, okay, now he was going to feel guilty if he didn't say anything. Also, everything that he had heard before about the Miraculous and the wish that the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous granted was just guess and conjecture, and he- he wanted to know. Surely as the holder of one of those Miraculous, Ladybug would know more.

"I..." Felix trailed off, glancing to the side. "I will admit, I considered it for maybe a couple minutes. The opportunity to have my father back...and with the price, well, what if we traded my dad for Adrien's father? It's not like having the world be down one supervillain would have been awful, especially because my dad was actually nice. He cared about others, not just himself, and he wouldn't have even considered doing what Mr. Agreste did." He glanced back at Ladybug. "But that's not how the wish would work, would it? That seems too neat and tidy, to be able to pick and choose the person to trade."

"It's definitely more unpredictable," Ladybug agreed. "Even Chat Noir and I's mentor- he's been studying the Miraculous for years, and he made a really dumb mistake that caused a lot of destruction. You would think that he would use the Cure and fix that, but even he doesn't want to mess around with the Wish. There's just no way to control what the price would be."

Felix nodded. "Okay. Thank you." There had been no opportunities missed, after all. That would keep him from staying awake at night, wondering and wishing and cursing himself for not at least trying.

With one last bright smile, Ladybug thanked them again and took off out the window, vanishing quickly. They all watched her go before falling into a somewhat uneasy silence as Adrien and Felix finished swapping back their appearances. Once they were finished, Felix's mom spoke up again.

"We'll have to be careful going forward," she told them. "Adrien, your father is bound to notice that his Miraculous is missing at some point today. I doubt that he would try to make a fuss with Felix and I here, but once we leave- well, I don't think that you should stay here tonight."

"I can lock my door and sneak out," Adrien offered. "I've done it before, and even if Nathalie and Father have the key to the door, I know how to block the doors so that they can't be opened. And, uh." He ducked his head, a small smile on his lips. "Marinette just texted me and said that I can stay over at her house, since they have a guest room."

"Oh, good. Perfect." Amèlie beamed at them. "So I think that unpleasant business has been as sorted out as much as possible, then, and we can move on to more pleasant topics and actually enjoy the rest of our visit here. So. Uh. Ideas?"

"Uh, maybe just one," Felix starting, figuring that- well, he was curious, and this was probably as good of a time for it as any. After all, the visit was already a bit awkward with his uncle's impending arrest for domestic terrorism via magic supervillains, so surely it couldn't get much worse. "Earlier, in the cellar, Uncle said something about him and Aunt Emilie having fertility problems and Dad helping out. Uh, can I just ask- what?"

  Gabriel Agreste let out a long breath once the Graham de Vanilys had finally, finally left, barely sparing Adrien a glance before heading back into his office and calling up a generous glass of scotch to sooth his nerves. His in-laws were as absolutely infuriating and interfering as he had remembered, barely deterred by the loss of Amèlie's husband, it seemed. Add in the fact that Amèlie still couldn't get her thick head around the concept that, family heirlooms or no, the twin rings belonged to him now, and the fact that Adrien's dash after learning about Gabriel's secret identity had caused no small amount of stress, and the fact that Amèlie hadn't accepted no for an answer and had forced Gabriel out of his office for dinner, just to make her stop pestering him and shut up- well, it really was no wonder that Gabriel had been nursing a small but persistent headache for most of the day.

But now they were gone- at least for now, he didn't doubt that they would be back in another couple of months to pester him some more, that family was nothing if not annoyingly persistent- and he could take some Advil with his scotch before settling in to plan out how he and Adrien could work together to take down the superheroes. With any luck, they could steal another Miraculous from one of the lesser, temporary superheroes and Adrien could use that to tip the scales. Gabriel wouldn't allow it for many battles- Adrien would only go out if conditions were solidly in their favor, because if he got his identity exposed that would be a disaster- but it could be the extra thing they needed, a strong akuma plus a sentimonster plus him and Mayura and Adrien.

"I could design the perfect akuma to make Ladybug and Chat Noir pull out one of the temporary heroes," Gabriel mused to himself once his drink was gone and his headache had receded, already rising to head for his elevator. He could plot better up in his lair, and he would also be ready if any negative emotions showed up in the city. There had been a surprising lack of them so far today, and he didn't understand why. "Which could very well mean re-akumatizing one of the people who got that reaction again. That could be difficult, unless I can direct Lila, perhaps." That wouldn't be hard, he was sure, considering that the girl seemed to jump on every opportunity to attack Ladybug. "But I might need to plan this one out some more. Nooroo, remind me what akumas brought out the B-team."

There was silence. Gabriel frowned, his fingers mid-reach towards the elevator buttons that would whisk him up to his lair. "Nooroo?"

Nothing. Dread started to pool in Gabriel's gut, and he scrambled to pull off his ascot, tossing it to the side to get a clear view of his neck.

His neck, which was- for the first time since he had put the brooch on- bare.

"No, no no no!" Gabriel snarled, sure that there had been a mistake. He dropped to his knees, snatching up his ascot and rifling through it in case the brooch had simply gotten snarled in the knot of fabric. His search yielded nothing. "Come on, come on, I couldn't have lost it!" The only new person who knew about him being Hawkmoth- who would have any idea about the hidden brooch- was Adrien, but he wouldn't dare steal his father's Miraculous. He wasn't anywhere near slick enough, after all- it was Felix that was the silver-tongued thief- and besides, he had clearly been very interested in his mother's return.

So where had it gone?

"Okay, breathe," Gabriel muttered to himself, determined not to let himself panic, even as he undid the pin-on ascot so that he could flatten it out. Panic led to dumb decisions, which could mean an end for him. "Adrien couldn't have taken it without tipping me off, he has no control over his emotions. He would have been nervous, and I would have been put on high alert. Maybe I just didn't fasten it right this morning and then it got knocked off."

Yes, that had to be it. Gabriel remembered that he had had to scold Nooroo in front of Adrien when they were in the underground cavern, so he had had the Miraculous then, at least. Which meant that it might have gotten knocked off down there. Where the walkway was not solid and there was rushing water down below.

That would not be good. Visions of the Miraculous getting whisked away by the rushing water danced through his head, and Gabriel's blood pressure spiked again before he remembered that Nathalie still had the Peacock Miraculous. They had to be careful with their usage of it, sure, but surely they could manage a transformation and a sentimonster that could sniff out the Butterfly Miraculous and return it. They might have to wait a week to make sure that Nathalie had fully recovered from her last transformation- or maybe it would be smarter for him to use the Peacock. The thought made Gabriel clench his hands, because the mere idea of subjecting himself to the peacock's weakness was-

Something was wrong. It hadn't been immediately obvious, but when he clenched his fists….

Gabriel's gut twisted as he looked down and then once again, he froze. This time, it had nothing to do with his missing Miraculous. Instead, Gabriel was staring at his bare hand. Specifically, his bare ring finger.

His ring. It was gone. Gone. Just like his Miraculous, vanished into thin air.

No!It-it couldn't be! He had been so careful to not let it out of his sight, and he certainly had never taken it off for more than a minute at a time to clean it. It wasn't as though he would take it off for any other reason- the smooth surface of the ring was hardly going to snag on any fabric, and he was hardly going to deign to do any sort of baking- which meant that it had been removed. Somehow. Without him noticing.

Two incredibly important pieces of jewelry gone without a trace in the span of a day. Gabriel scrambled for his phone, suddenly paranoid that maybe the Peacock had vanished from Nathalie's possession, too. If it had- well, then all was lost, wasn't it?

No. No, it had to be a coincidence. There hadn't been a single opportunity for Adrien to steal his Miraculous, but there certainly had been an opportunity for Felix to palm the ring when they shook hands. He should have been on the lookout for that, should have been on high alert the entire time that his sister-in-law and nephew were within his sight, should have put the ring in a safe until they were gone.

And by now, they were on a train back to London. Gabriel couldn't go after them, and even if he could, Amèlie wouldn't admit to her son taking the ring. They would hide it and play dumb and never let him see that they had it. No, it was well and truly lost to him now, and maddeningly so.

But that didn't mean that the Butterfly was. If he summoned Nathalie back to the house at once- she would be annoyed, certainly, since she had only just left, but as soon as she found out what was going on she would understand the urgency- then they could start the work of figuring out where the Butterfly had gone.

He wasn't going to let Emilie down.

(a/n: If ML is going to make Adrien and Felix inexplicably identical, I'm going to give them a completely bonkers justification for it. In this case, the chances of them looking so similar are a LOT higher if they share a father on top of having identical mothers.

This was meant to be the second and final part of the story, and it very well might be- I do like my open endings, after all- but it is possible that I might return to this story at some point and write a part 3 that ties up a few of the lose ends. It depends entirely on my inspiration and amount of other projects I have on the go, though, so no promises.)

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #The Felix Fiasco #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #Felix #chapter 2 of 2

[monochromeofficial]

DISSILLUSION  (  broken rose part one )

GENRE.    angst with a bit of fluff at the end, overal this is pretty sad

CHARACTHERS.    miran ( miranda huang ), huang family

TRIGGER WARNINGS.    slight depressive thoughts, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, arguing and yelling.

SHANGHAI, CHINA                                              2014

When Miranda woke up, she was more surprised to see her brother standing in front of her than having spent the night on a bench in some random public park.

She furrowed her face once a light of sunlight came in contact with her eyes, blinding her for a few seconds. Slowly she sat, moving her head a little to look up at him. Lisandro had both arms folded over his chest, observing her clumsy movements with a stare that she knew to perfection. Full of disappointment. That kind of looks tend to not affect her when they came from other people, but he made her feel uneasy.

When he stared at her that way Miranda wished she had a time machine to go back in time and fix every mistake that ended with that look on his face.

“Get in the car.” He said in his typical calming voice.

If she didn’t know him so well she could swear he wasn’t that angry, but his clenched jaw and the way he stirred the fingers of his left hand gave him away. 

Lisandro was like that. As angry as he was he would never raise his voice. At least not to her. Miranda was his beloved little sister. It didn’t matter how little was left of that image in her; she would always be his beloved sister.

She got up from the bench and followed him. Once inside the car she greeted Mr. Minghao —the family driver— with a slight handwave, before the men could return the gesture Lisandro pressed the bottom to close the window that divided the back of the car, leaving both siblings in an uncomfortable silence. The car started moving minutes later and Lisandro begun the conversation.

“Explain to me how you ended in a park almost at the other side of the city” He spoke in spanish, surely to prevent Minghao from understanding,

Truth is, Miranda didn’t know how she ended in that place. She didn’t remember much about last night actually, as far as she could recall she was at a club she went to more often than she likes to admit in front of him. 

She hated clubs, but it was the only place where she could drink until losing track of time, with music so loud she couldn’t even hear her thoughts, and full of people who didn’t care who she was or what she did. It was so easy to get lost there. And she likes that, she likes it so much she believes that place has become her safe zone.

But it was momentary.

Everything good in her life was momentary.

The next day all she was left with was a hangover and an intense desire of coming back.

“I don’t know.”

“I left a meeting because my assistant told me a co-worker called and told him he saw an unconscious girl who looked a lot like my sister. I was so scared of going there and finding you de—“, he stopped right away not wanting to finish the word “I don’t even want to think about it”

There was again the blame eating her alive. She bites her lip looking everywhere except her brother’s eyes. She couldn’t answer.

Miranda will be lying if she didn’t say deep down she craved that ending. Maybe that’s one of the main reasons why she acted so recklessly without caring about the damage she inflicted in herself, hoping that if she keeps going one day everything will be over.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again”. She replied more than anything to reassure him.

Lisandro took her hand between his and gave her a small squeeze. Her response didn’t fully comfort him, he was still deeply concerned. But that’s how things work between them. Miranda fucks up. Lisandro gives her a talk. She apologizes, he accepts the apology. And they leave it there, until it happened again.

Miranda Huang was lost.

For years she’s been struggling with a series of mental illnesses that made her life feel like a task she had to carry out. It used to be easy to deal with, she had the full support of her family, therapists ready to help her get over it, and a life ahead to heal at her pace. But as she grew older she realized most of her improvements didn’t last long, no matter how hard she tried by the end of the day she ended up in her room crying until she fell asleep.

Slowly her desire to continue trying vanished. What was the point of wasting her energies on something that didn’t work after all? 

She was aware of how privileged she was, that’s why she didn’t want other people to know the real thoughts going through her mind, she was scared of being seen as an ungrateful brat who’s always miserable. Miranda was a skilled actress; she attended drama classes for years, that’s why she decided to start using several techniques offstage to project a more likable image of herself that could please others.

Miranda got so used to faking her emotions that she almost couldn’t remember the last time she felt something real that wasn’t sadness. 

“We should leave,” she said, approaching Xiaowen´s hear so he could hear her above the loud music.

Xiaowen was something like her boyfriend could be said. Both attended the same high school and during their senior year, the boy confessed his feeling for her. Miranda accepted despite feeling nothing for him, but she hated being alone and he could give her company. Anyhow, Xiaowen seemed to be me more in love with her money and her face than her actual persona.

“Eh? You wanna leave so fast? We just got here.” The boy asked surprised. He was usually the one who had to drag her out of the club all the time.

She nodded.

The colorful lights of the place made her dizziness worse and she was sure that if she drank one more shot of vodka she’d end up throwing up in the boy’s brown curls. At that point, she would usually go out to get some fresh air, smoke a cigarette, and then continue to drink until passing out. Now she didn’t feel like it, she wanted to go home.

“Fine, i’ll take you after we finish this bottle”

Miranda sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. Of course, he would say something like that.

“Do whatever the fuck you want i’ll go”

Without waiting for his response she advanced to leave the place.

Outside she was received by the cold night wind of Shanghai’s busy streets. She closed her leopard coat trying to get some warm as she lifted her left hand to call a taxi. After getting one she let her body relax against the leather seats laying down her head in the window. Her eyes closed straightaway.

She was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Nights like those were the worst when her ephemeral fantasy disappeared before than expected and she was still sober enough to feel her pains. They felt like thin paper cuts in her skin, individually they didn’t hurt so much but combined it was distressing.

The worst part of all; she couldn’t complain. It was her punishment. As long as she carries the guilt of that day pain will be present in every breath she takes.

The taxi driver’s voice announcing she arrived snapped her from her thoughts. She paid and thanked the man before walking to the entrance of her house.

“I’m home”, she announced once she was inside.

She took her off her shoes unaltered by not receiving a reply. At that time all employees had gone home and her parent and brother must be asleep. She headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, pausing for a second after seeing Lisandro there too. He drummed his fingers on his cup staring at her intensely. Her shoulder lowered, all of sudden she felt small and weak, while she opened the fridge she wondered how long it will take him to start interrogating her.

“You went to the club again, right?” 

Miranda nodded dodging his gaze, her grasp in the water bottle becoming tighter.

He rubbed his temple and ran his hand through his hair giving a mirthless laugh.

“Why i’m not surprised.”

“Look, i know i said i won’t go there again but—”

“Save it. I’m done with your petty apologies; i’m done protecting you when it seems like you put zero effort on improving… i can’t keep doing whatever the fuck this is. I need to tell mom and dad everything.”

She stiffened. “You can’t do that, please don’t do that.”

“Yes i can, and i will. This needs to stop now.”

She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by her father’s entrance into the kitchen.

“What’s going on here? I heard you two arguing, did something happened or what?” He furrowed his eyebrows looking at them. They both stood quiet. Then he noticed the flashy clothes she was wearing, “Miranda are you going out? It’s three in the morning.” 

“Where is she coming from it’s the question” Lisandro replied bitterly.

“Just stop.” she said under her breath.

“I don’t understand anything, weren’t you in your room sleeping? Can someone explain to me what it’s going on…?”

“He’s right. Miranda, please explain to dad what where you’re doing.”

They both stared at her anticipating her answer. Miranda remained silent; she chewed her bottom lip and lowered her head embarrassed. Words seemed to be stuck in her throat.

“Since she doesn’t want to i will.” Lisandro said “She was at some club drinking like she’s been doing for a while now, while i hide it from you like an idiot because i believed she would get better before anything bad happened to her. And now I found out she hasn’t even been attending her therapy sessions.”

Her eyes widened. Suddenly her body went numb.

Fuck

“They called from the clinic to ask for her because they haven’t seen her in months.”

“Miranda is that true?” Her father’s voice sounded worried.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…

Every second was a torture. Her brain begged her to say something, anything, but at the same time, she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology leaved her mouth by instinct.

“At least you can come up with a new damn excuse!”

He yelled.

Lisandro yelled at her, and it felt worse than she could ever imagine. 

Lisandro was like a barrier preventing her from falling to the void, it was obvious that if she continued to push his boundaries over and over one day he would get tired and nothing would secure her when she crashed.

“It’s enough!” Her dad tried to stop the mess that was coming, but it was too late already.

“Sorry for being a fuck up” she wasn’t sure if they could hear it, her voice was barely a flimsy whisper, but she didn’t stay to find out neither. Miranda turned around and left right after that.

She heard how both men started discussing, surely about what just happened, as she climbed the stairs in a hurry. She just wanted to lock herself in her room hoping that if she spent enough time there she would disappear.

When she arrived she found her mother sitting on her bed. She looked up from her lap with a sweet smile on the lips. As long as she remembers she always had a smile when she looked at her.

“Did you heard everything?” Miranda asks and she nods.

“It’s okay, come here.”

She pats the space next to her, telling her to sit down. She does so, laying her head on her mother's lap as the woman begins to run her hands through her hair gently. She closes her eyes trying to hold back her tears. She didn't wanted to cry in front of her.

“We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. We can just stay in silence and cry.”

She shakes her head a little. “You deserve an explanation, you, dad, and Lisandro, all of you deserve one.”

“Mi vida you don’t have to explain anything to us, we know it’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is. It's my fault, everything it’s my fault… He hates me and it’s all my fault. I’m a horrible person.” 

"Listen to me, you're not a bad person and i forbid you to say that about yourself again. You’re just…sick Miranda, and you have no control over that. But you'll see that someday you’re going to get better and everything will be alright, you'll be fine mi vida. We can do this if we're together we just have to try harder until it works. but i'm not going to give up on you, and i'm sure they won't either, so please don't do it yet.”

Miranda lifted her head from her lap to face her. Her eyes flooded with tears, yet she didn’t shatter none, there was something in them that showed an incredible strength and it gave her some confidence. 

“I won’t. I won’t disappoint you again.”

This time it was true. She wanted to get better, she had to get better, not just for her but for her loved ones.

“I’m sure you won’t.” She said engulfing her in a hug.

Miranda settled on her chest and before she knew she began to cry. Allowing herself to show what she truly felt for the first time in years.

#kocsociety #MONOCHROME› s c e n a r i o s #miran.dev #tag.miran #kpop oc #kpop fake gg #kpop fake idol #kpop au #Idol!AU #idol addition #kpop addition

[beckzorz]

Patching Up (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 4045 Summary: Summertime, and the living is... interrupted by an injured Bucky Barnes falling face-first through your window. You’re not a nurse yet, but you’ve still got a duty to take care of him. And oh, you do. Warnings: NSFW (language, smut), 18+ A/N: Prompt from an anon! Nursing student!reader x hot mess!Bucky, although it’s hard to tell how much of a mess he is when all I can focus on is the ‘hot’ part. And bonus—it’s also @the-ss-horniest-book-club‘s Thirsty Thursday, so I’m just on time XD Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy :3

It’s stifling out. May shouldn’t be this hot. Shouldn’t be this cold, either—the weather is flip-flopping more than the primary polls, fifty one day and eighty the next. You’d had to pull your pea coat out from under your bed. Silly you for thinking spring had finally settled in.

Nope.

You’ve got every window in your apartment wide open, but the evening air is slow to filter in. If you weren’t a broke student, you’d turn on your AC. Not that you’ve even gotten around to putting the window units in yet. If only you could’ve gone with your roommate to her family’s beach home on the cape, but no, you’ve got your work at the school clinic. Not to mention a distinct lack of a nice enough bathing suit.

So instead of fun in the sun, you’re overworked and overheated, alone and surly. At least school’s done for the spring, and you don’t have to worry about summer classes now that you’ve finally passed A&P.

Thank goodness.

You fiddle with your phone as you lie spread-eagled on your bed, the oscillating fan on your dresser trailing up and down your body. It’s nice. You’ve just got on a cami and boy shorts as you wait for the room to cool enough for you to sleep; then you can crawl under your blanket and escape into a dream where, hopefully, you’ll be rich and famous and done with nursing school.

As if.

Well, at least there’s summer.

Summer with its heat and its smells and… the banging outside? You sit up slowly, confused. It’s nine-thirty PM, not AM. But it sounds like garbage trucks are rattling around the trash cans downstairs. A few steps to your open window, and you yelp, careening backwards as the screen rips and an unpleasantly familiar face topples inside.

“What the fuck!”

Bucky Barnes, sort-of superhero, groans into your scuffed wooden floor. His legs are bent, shoes halfway up your wall, shiny stains littering his black uniform. A metallic scent floods your senses; you wrinkle your nose before realization sets in.

It’s blood.

“Oh my god,” you breathe.

He lies there for what feels like forever before you can move.

He’s bleeding. You’re a nurse. Almost, anyway. It’s your job—your duty—to help.

Regardless of whether or not the reports of him going renegade are true.

—

The Winter Soldier is a good patient, all things considered. Follows instructions well, doesn’t mouth back, keeps his hands to himself. Questions pile in your mind, but you don’t have the courage to voice them until he’s sitting on the lip of your tub and you’re standing between his spread legs to bandage a gash on his forehead.

“What happened to you?” you ask quietly.

He hums. “I was wondering when you’d ask.” He winces as you dab at the cut with a damp washcloth, wiping the dried blood away. “HYDRA unit infiltrated SHIELD. Thought it’d be clever to frame me for something. Then they caught wind of my next assignment and ambushed me on the way back to the safe house.” He peers up into your face long enough for you to notice.

You look down at him, eyebrows raised.

He’s studying you closely, his blue eyes solemn and intense. For the first time, you realize just how vulnerable you are. A stranger in your bathroom, a bloody one at that. And a dangerous one, with far more muscle than you'll ever have. You should shiver, should be afraid—but you’re not.

He’s been staring at you for far too long.

“What?” you finally ask.

“My safe house is, uh, near here,” he says vaguely. “I…” He trails off, eyes shifting, and it clicks.

“You know I’m a nurse?”

He nods once, sharply.

You ought to be terrified now. Stalker? Spy? Assassin for sure. But all you can register is how sheepish he looks, unable to meet your eyes as you tape a bandage over his last cut. A man like this knows things whether he wants to or not. It’s clear he knows he shouldn’t know, and that he feels bad about it.

Well, no need to rub it in.

“Well, I’m glad I could help,” you tell him lightly. You step back, observe your handiwork. Not bad, considering your dim bathroom with its exposed pipes and one bulb blown out is hardly a sterile exam room. Or emergency room. Or… much of anything really. At least his face is clean. A nice face, a good face, especially with the light flush across his cheeks.

He blinks up at you. “Are ya?”

“I mean, it was either help you or let you bleed out on my bedroom floor.”

“Coulda called the cops,” he says. He prods his fingers against his ribs with a frown.

“Coulda. You want me to look at that?”

A nod.

You drop to your knees between his legs and glance up at him, checking. He swallows, hard. But he nods again. His tac vest and jacket are already piled in the tub, and he pulls his black undershirt up to his pecs with a wince.

Oh.

Oh.

You blink. You really have to replace that busted bulb, because how the hell is this a surprise? There’s a blooming bruise on his side, but you barely notice it because oh my god is he ripped. Abs, Adonis belt, a trail of hair leading down, down, down—

He clears his throat.

You tear your eyes away, face burning. “I—I’m sorry,” you stammer. Oh god. All of a sudden, you’re all too aware of just how utterly fucked up the whole situation is. Not only is there a goddamn half-shirtless superhero in your bathroom, but here you are, kneeling between his legs in nothing but a camisole and booty shorts and there’s a flush on your face and your hands are itching to touch and meanwhile he’s got bruised ribs and—

A cool finger slides under your lax chin. Your eyes snap back to Bucky’s face, breath catching in your throat. His eyes aren’t quite so blue anymore; his cheeks aren’t quite so pale. He’s let go of his shirt, but it’s caught around his chest. You try very hard to keep your eyes on his face. The prickle of a flush spreads down from your cheeks to your neck, your chest, lower…

“Think you got a good enough look?” he asks huskily. There’s a glint in his eye, just smug enough to tick you off. You shake his hand off your face and duck your head to actually examine his ribs. If you press harder than you need to—well, that’s what he gets for not just going to a hospital.

“It’s just a bruise,” you announce. You scoot back and glare up at him as you climb to your feet. “Try not to get hit there again before you can rest, okay?”

He stands, slower than you. You glance at the bathroom door, but he doesn’t go.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even tug his shirt back into place. Just stands there, abs on full display and that bruise, that damn bruise. It’s blue, purpling at points and nearly green at others. How is it so advanced so fast? It must be whatever’s got his heart beating that fast, and his muscles so perfectly chiseled, and, and, and.

Your lips are dry. Your hands itch to touch the bruise again, to check it—the blood had been fresh out of his cuts, but this bruise looks days old.

“Did all this happen today?” you ask.

He blinks. Nods. A little smile lifts the corner of his mouth as he pulls his shirt back into place, but it’s not smug like his earlier smirk had been. More… fond. Like he’s known you for years, and you’re all he ever wants to smile at again.

“I knew you were smart,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen. Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips. “What—what do you mean?”

“I see you studying,” he says. “You keep your shades open.” He tucks his hair behind his ear, face pink again. “I can see from my kitchen window. You—it’s hard not to watch you work. Better’n just staring at the dishes.”

A giggle falls from your lips. “Are you saying I’m a dish?”

“I—” He blinks. Stares. Then he laughs, one loud burst of it before he’s hissing, hand flying to his ribs again. You rush forward the step and a half to check on them yourself, your hand brushing his as you feel those wonderful muscles under your fingers.

“It’s alright,” you tell him. You glance as far up as his mouth and back to his chest, but then his finger slides back under your chin.

This time, you don’t bat him away.

You let him lift your face until you have no choice but to meet his gaze. It’s sweltering, and it’s not just the lack of air conditioning or two people standing in a tiny windowless bathroom or the absolute stillness of the air. It’s the touch of that metal hand on your chin, his chest practically brushing against yours, the prickling of a flush that’s going far past the neckline of your cami. It’s his mouth, pink and plush, surrounded by the shadow of his scruffy beard. It’s his eyes, dark like the sea; you could drown in them, if you wanted.

And oh, you want.

His eyes flit across your face, settle on your lips. He doesn’t move, just waits, breathing shallow and pupils dilating as you watch.

He’s waited long enough.

You rise up on tiptoe, slide a hand into his hair, and pull his mouth to yours. And oh, it’s beautiful.

His lips are soft, just as plush as they look. Warm, dry, just enough give. And he tastes like every sweet thing you’ve ever denied yourself, like rich chocolate and fresh mint and something secret you wouldn’t know how to ask for if you tried. And here you are, getting it anyway.

Bucky is tentative at first, barely moving, but then you press your whole body against him and he groans into your mouth. His other arm circles your waist and pulls you even closer, his belt digging into your stomach and his pants rough against your bare legs. But you don’t care. All you care about are those lips searing yours, the hand kneading the skin of your hip through your camisole, the metal hand winding its way around your neck. And then there’s the way his chest drags against yours, the way your shirt bunches around your waist, baring more skin to the air, to his touch.

Your calves start to burn from standing on tiptoe for so long, and you drop back down to your heels, pulling him with you, your back arched as he bends just enough. God, that this moment never ends.

But he breaks the kiss, panting. You bite back a whine as he presses his forehead to yours, his eyes squeezed shut.

“God,” he rasps, “is this real?”

A pinch of his side—the unbruised one. He twitches, but doesn’t pull away. You smile, just able to make out the curve of his cheek as he does as well.

“If not, then we’re both dreaming,” you say.

“Well, here’s to never waking up.”

—

How you end up in your room is a mystery. All you know is that he’s kissing you, and then you’re on your back on your bed, breathless as he peels his shirt off, kicks his pants away. For the first time, you see him in all—well, nearly all, he’s still got his boxer briefs on—his glory. The shining metal arm, only just as sculpted as the other; the pecs lightly dusted with hair and far more heavily with a flush; that trail of hair leading down, down, down.

Bucky crawls over you, muscles shifting so beautifully as he gazes down at you as worshipfully as if he were gazing up at God. You reach up to tuck his hair behind his ears, certain you look loopy from the warmth bubbling in your chest. There’s the heat thrumming through you, but that warmth…

It’s not the usual fire under your skin that you get from a one-night stand. It’s something else. Something softer.

Bucky’s legs bracket yours as he ducks his head to nuzzle that tender spot at the crook of your neck.

“Mm.”

You sigh, hands carding through his hair as he curls his left arm under your shoulder. The metal is smooth, strange to the touch—you’ve never been touched by moving metal before, and it’s thrilling, new.

He’s hovering over you, braced by his bent arms and legs. His breath is warm on your neck. You breathe him in, his strong clean scent, just touched with the smell of your soap and the leftover smell of blood, and beneath all that something unique and spicy and dark and him.

Enough foreplay.

You shift your legs until he’s between them. Bucky lifts his head, eyes fixed on yours as you hook your foot around his calf.

“You’re awful far away,” you tell him. A tug of his hair, and he half-collapses on top of you, face inches from yours. You’re drowning in those sea-dark eyes. For the first time, you can feel him hard against you, the heat from his body almost scalding. You swallow a moan, afraid to break whatever spell you’re under.

“How close do you want me?” he murmurs.

Your smile is slow, greedy. You slide your hands down his neck, his back—oh, you’re dying to get a look at those beautiful muscles shifting under your hands—to squeeze his bum.

“How close can you get?”

His growl is positively feral. He covers you entirely, his weight delicious and heavy and stifling but you can’t get enough. His lips trail kisses down your neck, and the warmth blooming in your chest sparks, ignites, burns. Desire tingles in your chest, your arms, curling your fingers and toes as his clever mouth works at every sensitive spot along your throat. His teeth nip at your collarbone. You curve up against him, into him, head falling back as something primal surges through your veins. His hand slides under your top, peeling it away from your scorching skin, and then his mouth is on your breast.

“O-oh!”

Your hands fist in his hair as your eyes squeeze shut. You don’t realize you’re pulling hard until he groans, but it’s the kind of groan that makes your legs clench and a fresh rush of want pool at your core. His tongue rolls, laps, flicks, and you’re a babbling mess begging for you don’t even know what. Anything, whatever he wants, except to stop.

God, let it never stop.

He shifts to the other side, pays your other breast equal attention while completely ignoring how you’re grinding up against him, seeking desperately for the angle that will give you relief. But your pesky boyshorts and his pesky briefs are still in the way, and with his mouth glued to your chest, there’s no way you can win.

“Bucky,” you whine. “Closer.”

You can feel him smile against your breast. One last kiss to that sensitive skin—you twitch, gasp, unable to help yourself—and then he’s closer, hips nudging your legs further apart as he finally, finally, settles properly between them. Like he’s here to stay.

He brushes back the baby hairs at your temple as his eyes trace every line of your face. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Ditto,” you whisper back. Your hands follow their trail down his back a little slower this time, mapping him out, testing the waters, watching the way his shoulder moves, until you reach his waistband. A glance back into his face, and his quick nod is all the confirmation either of you need.

Bucky yanks off your cami the rest of the way, you push down his briefs, somehow you get out of your boyshorts, and then there’s only him, burning you up from the outside in until he’s burning you up from the inside out.

Your mouth falls open with the stretch. You hadn’t even had a chance to look at him, to take him in, but he’s thick enough to have you scrambling at his back for purchase as he takes you apart in a single slow push.

He stills halfway in, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he struggles for breath. “Fuck, gorgeous. You—oh, fuck.”

You press a kiss to his hair. His chest rubs delicious friction against yours as he breathes those pretty broken breaths. Other than that, he’s immobile. Too long passes as he lays still, gathering himself. Impatient, you clench around him, tilting your hips up so he’s fully sheathed. You lower your hips, then raise them again, fucking up into him as he groans, one of his hands straying to his side before you remember the damn bruised ribs. You drop back onto the mattress, regret coiling in your gut as he pulls out and collapses onto his back beside you with a hiss.

Here you are, a nurse, and you’re hurting your patient. And screwing them, but that’s besides the point.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says woefully. He grabs your hand, tugs you into his arms. “God, I’m sorry—”

“Well, don’t take all the credit,” you tell him, forcing a smile. “I literally just told you to get rest.”

He snorts, hisses, buries his face in your hair. “If only I could move, god, the things I’d do to you…”

You sit up, suddenly inspired. He can’t move, but you can. Besides, now you can see him.

And oh, what a pretty picture he makes. All those ridges of muscle, the sharp lines of his Adonis belt all the way down.

“The things I’m gonna do to you,” you murmur. You sling a leg over his hips and settle on top of him, his hard length between your legs. Slow drags of your hips send fresh bursts through you, from your core to your chest to behind your eyes, tickling your brain. Your legs are shivering. You reach back and grab his thighs, afraid to touch his torso for fear of those damn ribs, but you’ve got to hold on somewhere because there’s nothing left holding you up.

Your eyes flutter closed as you rub against him, and then a cool slick hand wraps around your right thigh. Your eyes snap open. You stare, breathless, hips still moving, as Bucky slides his hand higher, higher, until his thumb brushes against that one spot—

You’re a goner.

How you stay upright is a miracle. No muscle in your body is untouched; you’re a quivering mess atop him, breathy moans filling the air along with Bucky’s worshipful praises.

“So beautiful, so good, so sweet, god, you look so good, you smell so sweet—”

His metal hand works you through it. There’s no sense left in your brain to process his words beyond yes, good, he’s still here and oh god bless him and I want everything he can give me.

By the time you’re back to your senses enough to unclamp your hands from his thighs, you realize you’ve slid back. Bucky’s stroking himself lazily, the evidence of your release easing his way as he gazes up at you like the moon’s hung in your eyes.

“I could watch you all day,” he says.

You lean down, careful to avoid touching his ribs, and frame his face in your hands. “I could do this all day.” A kiss to those plush lips, and then you lift your hips, reach back, shift your weight, and—

“Oh fuck,” you groan.

He fills you entirely this time, just the slightest tilt of his hips as you sit back up. His hands catch yours, propping you up as you gasp for breath. It’s a minute to adjust—more than you usually need, but he’s more than you usually… well, he’s more than usual. You blink the stupor from your eyes, but the look on Bucky’s face is enough to keep you tongue-tied even if your body is aching for more.

Bucky’s face is awash with light, with longing and relish and so much beauty that you almost want to cry. You’ve never had such a beautiful man in your bed, let alone one who looks at you like you’re every good thing he’s ever seen.

You rock back onto him, unable to take your eyes away. In no universe, in no alternate timeline, could you look away from him. How could you? He’s the one with the stars in his eyes.

Every drag of your hips, every hitch of your breath or his, sends you careening along a knife’s point. There’s no escaping this, the feel of him, the contrast of his hands, one slick and sticky with your release, the other warm and dry. The broad expanse of his chest rising and falling rapidly, the grunts as he bucks his hips up just enough to nudge a secret spot inside you, his hiss when you pull a hand free to scissor your fingers between your legs, around him, the heel of your hand digging against that little bundle of nerves that’s about to blow.

You force your eyes to stay open as Bucky’s hips start to stutter, as he stretches you just that little bit more, as curses fall from his pretty pink lips. You want to watch him come undone—have to watch the power you have, for tonight and maybe, probably, never again. His eyes roll back, squeeze shut, and then his abs clench so beautifully as he spills inside you.

A few more rolls of your hips, the desperate shove of his flesh fingers between your legs, a million pounds of pressure at your core, and you’re gone.

This time, you fall forward, convulsing around him, a soundless scream streaming out of you as you clench around him, pleasure radiating through you in endless waves, his other hand tilting your head so he can latch his lips to your throat. You can feel him there at your neck, between your legs, under you, everywhere.

Then, nothing.

For a full minute, you’re motionless, senseless, adrift in a cloud of after-effects and the slow, weighty realization that this is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven.

The first sensation you feel is Bucky’s hands stroking your back. Then, his lips against your temple. The smell of sex in the air, the sounds of nighttime in the city.

He seems to know when you’re back to yourself. “You alright, gorgeous?”

“Mm.” It’s true. You’re so blissed out you could cry. What gave him the right to be so beautiful, so worshipful? So good, so sweet? So kind?

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and trace his bruised side.

“You?” you ask.

“Well,” Bucky says, “I can’t say you didn’t take good care of me.”

You smack his chest, laughing a little. He gathers you up in his arms and kisses you dizzy.

“You beautiful woman,” he murmurs against your lips. “I shoulda knocked on your door days ago.”

“Yes you shoulda.” You kiss him until spots dance behind your eyes. Settle back tucked against his side, your fingers tracing the beautiful lines of his torso. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

“Oh?” Bucky’s voice dips dangerously low.

You crane your neck to stare, lips parted.

“You know,” he says, almost casually, “I heal really fast.”

“I noticed…”

“If you can wait—” he looks up, and you can just imagine the calculating he’s doing in his head— “thirty-five minutes, I think I can get you more.”

“Well,” you say, throat suddenly awfully dry, “like I said. I’ll take what I can get.” You reach up, trace his jaw. “In the meantime, do you mind if I just… hold you?”

Bucky’s eyes refasten on yours. There’s that warmth in your chest again, that star-light in his eyes, and you think that maybe you did drown in them tonight.

“I don’t mind,” he tells you. He pulls you back into his arms, one of your legs draped over his. He kisses your forehead, traces your cheek. “I don’t mind.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier imagine #becca writes #bucky barnes smut

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Road Trip - Chapter 1

pairings: logicality (platonic or romantic, depending on how you view it) words: 3964  chapter warnings: familial death, talks about upcoming death, existential talks & debates on life/death, implied toxic familial relationships, implied suicide mention (never confirmed/elaborated on) chapter summary: in which patton and logan learn more about each other and also talk about the sunset.

note: the song featured in this chapter is called "means to a mend" by adam melchor :)

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[read on ao3]

[masterlist]

*credit to art in this chapter goes to @lemonyellowlogic​​ ✨*

---

The first hour or so was quiet, much to Patton’s despair. Logan didn’t even turn on his radio, making Patton think that he was expecting a bit more conversation as well. 

He leaned his head against Logan’s window, idly tuning his ukulele over and over again as the world sped past him. The strings and the sound of Logan shifting gears was all he could hear.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, in all honesty. Of course it was going to be quiet; they didn’t even know each other. 

Still, he feared the possibility that this is what the entire trip could be like; so he straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat. 

“So, um, Logan –” He sounded like he was testing how it felt to say his name– “what do you do?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Logan stiffen. He forced his stare straight ahead. Great. He was doing just... great. 

“I’m a teacher,” Logan finally said. 

“Really?” Patton latched onto the words as soon as he heard them. “That’s so cool!”

“I suppose it is.” Logan drummed his fingers against the wheel. “I enjoy it.” 

“What do you teach?” 

“Science.” Patton watched as a smile tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips. “I teach at a high school level, so it is not the most advanced content to teach; but it is fulfilling to give students a figurative...spark.” 

“Spark?”

“Just the motivation to pursue something more than what is on the whiteboard, so to speak.” Patton caught a glimpse of a small twinkle in Logan’s eye. “There is no experience greater than when a student comes up to you after class and asks you a question.” 

Patton smiled. How could he not have been given more time?

“That sounds...incredible,” he said instead. Logan just nodded, though the smile remained.

“How about you?” Patton finally turned his head to face him as he spoke. “What do you do?”

“Me?” Patton squeaked, blushing slightly. “Oh I, um, write...songs.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not really a big deal,” Patton said quickly. “I just, um...well, I upload some of them on YouTube.”

“Do you have a following?” 

“Not an impressive one.” He shrugged. “At least, not in today’s world.”

“Still,” Logan said, taking one hand off the wheel to grab his iced coffee. “I think it is an interesting occupation, being in the world of social media.”

Patton laughed nervously. “Heh, yeah! I guess.”

“Is that why you brought your ukulele?”

Patton blushed again.

“Yeah,” he replied meekly. “I’m hoping to write something before...you know.”

A quiet hush filled the car. Patton watched as Logan’s smile fell.

“Yes,” Logan finally said, clearing his throat and setting his drink back down. “I understand.”

“Though I– I’ve been having some trouble finding inspiration,” Patton continued, scrambling to pick the conversation back up. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “The chances of being struck with inspiration is less than like, being struck by lightning, heh.”

“Hm,” Logan hummed. “Well, where do you usually find inspiration?” 

“My family,” Patton said, almost instantly. “A lot of my songs are about my family.” 

Logan, to his surprise, smiled. 

“That is...well, adorable.” 

“I guess it is,” Patton laughed, looking back down at his ukulele. “It’s easy to find inspiration when I think of them because I played a lot for them. Especially my mum — it’s easy to think of something great when I think of her.”

“What does your mother do?”

“She was a scientist.” Patton saw Logan beam in the corner of his eyes. “She led a lot of field research campaigns for NASA before she retired.”

“Fascinating,” Logan said, as if his breath was taken away. Patton smiled.

“She is,” He said proudly. “She was given a lot of time.”

“I can imagine. She was truly deserving of it.”

"She still is.” Patton’s heart swelled as he spoke. “She takes care of Roman and Remus– my younger brothers– pretty much all by herself.”

He laughed. “They can be a handful sometimes. And I mean, I help around too when I can, but she...well, she’s the leader.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Logan said almost fondly.

“She really is.” Patton’s smile fell. “I just wish she didn’t have to do it on her own.”

Logan frowned. 

“Did...did something happen to your father?”

Patton sighed. “He wasn’t as lucky with his time.”

A beat of silence. 

“Ah, I see,” Logan cleared his throat. “My apologies."

“It’s okay.” Patton smiled sadly. “He...um, it was complicated, heh.”

“...Right.”

Logan fell silent once more. Patton cursed at himself as he felt the conversation die. That one...well, that was on him. 

The next half hour was quiet again. Patton didn’t try to resurrect their talk; instead, he fiddled with the strings on his ukulele, trying to come up with a few chords that could tell the story of this suddenly awkward adventure.

“I know what it’s like,” Logan finally spoke up, when the agonizing silence passed.

Patton lifted his head up. “What?”

“About your father.” Logan didn’t take his eyes off the road. “I know what it’s like to not know how to...well, feel .” 

 ---

The story of Logan’s parents is kind of a sad one. It made Patton wonder why good people had the saddest stories. 

His dad’s life was just cut short. Logan never understood why, and neither did Patton. He was an electrician, and a good one of that. Friend to many, a joy to all. It made Patton’s blood run cold, thinking of the Doctor who made that decision.

But his mother was a different story. 

“She left when I was 14,” Logan recalled as they sat in traffic. He leaned back in his seat, one hand on the wheel and the other leaning against his window. “My dad had only died three years ago when she dropped me off at my grandmother’s house. I...I don’t know where she is now.”

“Oh, Logan .” Patton’s voice went quiet, barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Do not worry about apologizing.” Logan sounded bitter; cold. “What she did was...it was illogical.”

Patton shifted in his seat nervously. “It was?” 

A beat of silence. 

“She was a Doctor,” Logan finally said. 

Patton immediately looked at Logan, as if his words became his prey. 

“A...a Doctor.” Patton tried to keep his voice levelled. “ Huh .”

“She believed the whole ‘ultimate sacrifice’ concept,” Logan murmured, not making eye contact with Patton. He looked almost ashamed. “As if it was the most valuable thing you could do with your time.” 

“Did she just not have enough time?” 

Logan stiffened. “She never told me. All I know about it is that she did her Procedure when she was 21, right before she left the Clinic after her mandatory appointment. She told me that they went through her files, disclosed to her the results, and then she simply made her decision.”

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that,” Logan echoed, his voice a quiet murmur. “For all I know, she could have been doing this for years; even before I was born.”

Patton winced at the small flame that suddenly flickered in his chest. 

“She had it all,” Logan continued. “Difficulty aside, the job was extremely rewarding. After my father passed, we probably could have had enough to live a very generous lifestyle. Not to mention having the limit on her time completely eradicated...”

Logan sighed. “I will never understand how she could just give that away.”

The flame intensified. Patton shook his head and stared out the window.

“I can’t believe she just left.” His chest hurt with every word. “That’s...that’s so awful.” 

A pause. 

“It’s a hard job, I suppose,” is all Logan said. 

Patton’s anger drifted out of him through a sigh, leaving as fast as it arrived. 

“Is she still…?”

“Alive?” Logan chuckled quietly. “I don’t know. All I know is that she is certainly not doing her job anymore.”

“I didn’t even know you could do that,” Patton murmured. “Because, like...they live forever, don’t they?”

Logan’s hands tensed up on the wheel. “They do.”

“And if they live forever, there’s really only one way out...isn’t there?”

A beat of silence. Logan then cleared his throat. 

“Do you want dinner?” he suddenly blurted out. 

Patton blinked. “Pardon?”

“Dinner,” Logan continued to drum his fingers against the wheel. “I feel like we need to raise our spirits — figuratively, of course. It is a road trip, after all.”

“Oh.” Patton didn’t even realize it was late; or that the tension in the car actually peaked high enough for one of them to notice. “Um, yeah! Gosh, I’m so sorry, um– dinner would be...swell.”

Logan just nodded. 

The car shifted off the highway and towards softer lights from nearby town buildings and homes; and Patton finally decided that perhaps it would be best to just sit in the silence for a little while.

---

 “You could have ordered more than just a salad, you know?” Patton said as Logan gave the waitress their menus. “This can be my treat! It’s the least I can do.” 

“I want to keep spendings to a minimum,” Logan hummed. “For a night or two in a motel, and meals when the time arises. After all, it is important to conserve resources when pursuing a trip that may involve some detours.”

Patton giggled as he leaned back against his seat. His eyes drifted to the slowly-darkening sky out the window. 

“Wow,” Patton sighed. “Are sunsets just prettier when you’re on a road trip?”

“Perhaps,” Logan said, pushing his glasses up as he snuck a glance at the sunset as well. 

“It’s so beautiful.” Patton absentmindedly put his chin in his hand, almost dreamily. “I could stare at it for hours.” 

“You know,” Logan began, still looking out the window with Patton, “the human eye can perceive only a small part of sunlight that falls in the visible spectrum.”

“Yeah?” Patton asked, still dreamy, until his smile faltered and he asked; “Wait, what does that mean?”

Logan chuckled. 

“It means that we are not able to see all the colours of a sunset,” Logan explained. “See, as the sun starts to set, its light travels a longer distance. Particles in the atmosphere act as a prism for the light refraction; which is why we see red, orange, and pink hues within a sunset.”

“ Wow .” Patton smiled at the colours in the sky, which suddenly meant so much more. 

“It is quite fascinating,” Logan murmured. “You know, while humans are unable to see all the colours of a sunset, there are some organisms who can; particularly, those who can perceive ultraviolet light. It is theorized that they hence see a more colourful sunset.”

“That’s so cool! ” Patton grinned. “I wonder what colours they see. Maybe some that don’t even exist yet!” 

Logan gave him a small smile. “Perhaps.”

“How do you know so much about this kind of stuff?” 

“...I am a teacher, Patton.” 

“Oh!” Patton giggled. “Yeah, that would make sense!” 

Logan just gave him an amused nod as he watched the sunset with Patton through the diner’s slightly-dirty windows. 

“This is really nice,” Patton finally said after a bit of silence between the two. 

“I do not quite understand how being in a slightly...unmanaged roadside diner with an aesthetic emulating the 50’s leads you to this conclusion–” And here, Logan smiled– “but I am glad to hear that, Patton.”

“Of course!” Patton turned to face Logan. “I’m having a good time. And I really enjoy your company on this– let’s be honest– really weird adventure we’re going on.” 

Logan just chuckled again. 

“I know I’ve been kind of...well, awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Patton continued, looking down almost shyly. “But that’s only because it’s all still hitting me, you know? It all doesn’t feel... real yet.”

Logan slowly nodded. 

“I can understand that. It takes a while to adjust, I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “But at least you can rest a little easier, now that you know how it happens. There has to be some solace in that, hm?”

Patton laughed, though it felt too small and sad. 

“I, um...I don’t know how it happens.”

Logan blinked. “You...you don’t?”

“Part of me was scared to know, obviously,” Patton explained, “but there’s– there’s just this other part of me that knows I shouldn’t be allowed to know...you know?”

“Everyone is allowed to know,” Logan said with a frown.

“No, I get that! And I respect people who choose to find out, obviously.” Patton sighed. “I guess I just don’t think it’s...fair.” 

“How so?”

“Well, it’s natural for us not to know!” Patton shrugged idly. “It’s sorta like not knowing is the most human thing out there. We never knew before– why should we know now?”

“...Huh.” When Patton looked up, Logan’s face was...well, unreadable. “I never really thought about it that way.”

“Do you know?” Patton asked.

A beat of silence. 

“Yes.” Logan cleared his throat. “It is peaceful, which I am thankful for, at least.”

Patton just smiled sadly. “You deserve it.”

Their food came not too long after and it was quiet for a while until Patton decided to sweep in with a lighter story; one that didn’t show too much of the edge Patton sat on. 

But to his surprise, as he began to talk avidly about something he thought Logan wouldn’t be really interested in, Logan smiled at him.

And then, they ended up talking about everything — funny family anecdotes, stories about their jobs, their likes and dislikes; everything. Halfway through the conversation, Patton realized that the sunset had disappeared and the diner was almost empty. It shocked him for a split second — he didn’t even feel like a minute had passed, let alone an hour or two.

And it suddenly hit him how interesting Logan was; and how easy it suddenly was for him to talk to Logan without thinking too much of it, or of anything around them. They were talking as if they knew each other from a different life; like old friends with the same mind. 

“I cannot believe you met Hans Zimmer,” Logan said, his eyes uncharacteristically wide and starry. Patton blushed. 

“I didn’t really meet him,” Patton said meekly. “One of my friends from school was interning at a movie studio in LA and they were showing me around when I came to visit them. I just happened to bump into him and be...well, over enthusiastic about it until he left.”

“Amazing,” Logan murmured. 

Patton giggled as the waitress came over to their table to take their bill.

Suddenly, a familiar tune floated out of a jukebox in the corner. Patton’s eyes lit up. 

“They’re playing my song!” 

Logan blinked. “What?”

“I chose a song out of the jukebox like, an hour ago!” Patton stood up, slowly bobbing his head to the beat of the music. “They’re finally playing it! Thank goodness, I was starting to think I did it wrong or something!”

“When did you even–”

“Come on!” Patton exclaimed as a loud, colourful burst of instruments blared from the small jukebox. He outstretched a hand to Logan. “We have to dance.”

Logan shook his head, but was smiling. “We do not have to do anything.”

“Yes we doooooo!” Patton waved his hand in front of Logan. “It’s a 50’s diner! There’s a jukebox playing a bop– a juke-bop! We have to dance! That’s what they probably did– um, back then!” 

Logan looked down at Patton’s hand and then back up at Patton, who did his best to smile as wide as he could. 

“We could do the juke- box step,” Patton said, waggling his eyebrows. 

To his surprise, Logan kept staring at him. 

And, for a split second, his stare lacked that knowing he was familiar with.

Patton lowered his hand slightly, a bit confused. 

Then, Logan took his hand. 

“Yay!” Patton cheered, filled with that vibrant feeling once more. He grabbed Logan and pulled him towards the empty space near the jukebox. Logan rolled his eyes, and Patton felt the tense-feeling in Logan’s hand loosen. 

“Okay, just follow my lead.” Patton began to bob his head in an exaggerated way, motioning for Logan to echo the movement.

Logan sighed, rhythmically bobbing  his head to the music while rooted in his place. His foot tapped to the beat as he crossed his arms.

Patton laughed. 

“Oh come onnn!” Patton took Logan’s arms and shook them free, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Logan broke into a wide smile. 

And when Logan laughed, it sounded prettier than any music Patton had ever heard.

---

Patton was already closing his eyes when he heard Logan speak.

“You’re...different.”

Patton lifted his head to look at Logan. “Hm?”

“You’re different from the people I know,” Logan said, his eyes still on the road ahead of them.

Patton straightened up in his seat. “I am?”

“For starters,” Logan began, “I have never met a musician before. I was always fascinated by the industry, but from a distance. I never understood how one could just...draw inspiration from nothing to make, well, anything .”

Patton chuckled. “It’s a lot less difficult than you’re led to believe! The world is just stuffed with little nooks and crannies where inspiration hides. It’s just a matter of finding it, which is the fun part!”

“See, and that’s why I am just so...confused by you,” Logan murmured. “You treat music and family and, well, life as something so fun– and you give so much love to everything you are a part of. Tonight was just further proof of that.”

Patton blushed. “Aw, Logan! Thank you!”

“It’s true,” Logan sighed. “And so I am just confused as to why you weren’t given more time.”

A beat of silence. Patton’s smile fell. 

“...Oh.” He laughed nervously. “Well, isn’t that just the million dollar question?”

“It’s just that the Clinic is supposed to reflect a system built on payoff and reward–”

“The system is wrong ,” Patton cut him off. More quietly, he added, “That’s all.”

Logan was seemingly stunned in silence because he didn’t respond. Patton sighed. 

“Sorry,” he said meekly, rubbing the back of his neck and fixing his stare on the road in front of them instead of at Logan. “I’m...well, I’m no expert on politics or whatever, but I do have a pretty good idea on what is right and the Clinic? That’s...that’s not it.”

“How so?” Logan’s words seemed like they were walking on a tightrope. Patton shifted in his seat. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Patton explained, feeling his words grow more bitter as he continued. “Not to get, like, all philosophical on you, but it just doesn’t seem fair. I said it before, it’s natural for us to not know how it happens. And then you have these– these people , out here deciding how a complete stranger should be allowed to live their life before it even started?”

He snuck a glance at Logan. His jaw was seemingly clenched and his hands were tightly gripping the wheel. Patton winced.

“Gosh, what am I talking about.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his frustration deflating. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to sound so rude. I...I get that it’s a ‘gift’ or however people describe it. And if I was really that upset about my time, I could have made an Appeal to see if there was at least some possibility that I could have more. It’s just…” 

Patton closed his eyes. “I guess part of me just wishes I was on the luckier side of it all.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle. 

“It’s selfish and wrong to be so self-serving. I’m sure they’re giving time to people more deserving of it than some one-hit-wonder musician.” Patton leaned his head against the window with a sigh. ”But...but I know people who deserved more time; people who didn’t get the chance to give even the smallest amount of anything to the world. Who knows, it could’ve been enough for them to be granted the time they deserved in the end.”

“Like your father?”

Patton grew tense. He averted his glance. 

“No one should know,” he ended up saying. “Knowing something just makes it easy to...to exploit it.

Logan’s breath hitched.

“I…” Patton watched as his grip on the wheel loosened. “Knowledge is an incomparably valuable, multi-purposeful tool. And it is instrumental in identifying and solving any problem.”

“I don’t know if I’d call death a ‘problem’.” A pause. “Well, I mean it’s a problem for me right now, sure, but in general? I don’t think life can exist without it.”

“You raise a valid argument,” Logan hummed, “but life is the only thing we humans truly know. We know nothing about death– it’s not like it is a problem, it’s just something that has changed so drastically. Death, at some point in time, was inevitable; but now… now it’s something we can control and learn more about. It is one of the most harmful forces we can ever come across in our lives and now we know how to stop it. And I understand your argument but...but don’t you think that we’re getting closer to knowing how to save everyone from it?”

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. Patton frowned. 

“I don’t know if it’s something, like...hurting us.”

“It’s just taking away our potential.” Logan took a moment to look at Patton. “It’s taking away the potential for people like you to truly explore all of what life has to offer.”

A beat of silence. 

“Agree to disagree then,” Patton murmured. He gave Logan a small smile after sitting in the silence for a bit. 

“You know,” he said, “I don’t know if I’d want to live forever.”

“Yeah?” Logan was no longer looking at him. Patton idly looked out the window and sighed. 

“Because at some point...wouldn’t it just come full circle?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you already know everything about living,” Patton explained, “wouldn’t you just end up wanting to know more?”

Logan didn’t respond. Patton shrugged. “I just don’t know if I want to spend my whole life worrying about not knowing. At that point...well, I think I’d just be content with leaving it up to imagination.”

Patton was met with silence once more; though it felt less unsettling than before. Still, Patton ended up nervously humming to try and fill the void of their conversation. 

After what felt like hours, Logan finally said, “Huh.”

“What’s up?”

“...You are different.”

And from the corner of his eye, Patton saw Logan smile.

--- 

“...Patton?”

“Mhm?”

“If I were to ask for a song–”

“Ah, sure! Any requests?”

“...Surprise me.”

- 

Logan listened intently to the way Patton plucked the strings of his ukulele; and the way Patton’s breathing sounded like (slow, deep; ready ) before he sang. 

“You had a dream you were up in the sky, down from the stars you then started to fly…”

Logan couldn’t help but smile as he exited the highway to find a motel, the night sky stretching far beyond them.

“And from there you could see as you fell through the miles, the place where you lived through the telephone lines…”

His eyes were beginning to feel heavy, but he stifled his yawn behind his hand so he wouldn’t miss a word Patton sang.

“There’s the yard and the trees, the roses you like; When you woke up and you knew you’d be fine.”

It kept Logan awake– no, alive – to hear his voice. 

“If it happened to be the place where it ends, at least you would know how to land on a means to a mend…

---

next chapter >

#TS Storytime 2020 Submission #gabbie writes things #the road trip #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #logan/patton #human AU

[mattzerella-sticks]

Full. A 15x05 “Proverbs 17:3″ Coda, Sam & Dean, Dean/Castiel

Dean can't think about Chuck back on his bullshit, writing his own timeline of their lives without their input. He can't think about Cas, his angel ignoring their calls and following through with his promise to 'move on'. Can't think about the end.

What he can do is eat. So he does. And he won't let anyone stop him, especially Sam.

But there's only so much he can stuff down. What happens when there's no more room, and he has to deal with what's left? Will he be strong enough?

Dean frowns at the mess waiting for him in the sink. Plates stacked upon plates with smears of foodstuffs and crumbs on their surfaces. Some wet from being repeatedly drowned whenever he turned the sink on and others dry because of how long they sat going unwashed.

Sighing, Dean adds another plate to the stack. Careful to place it where it won’t fumble, slide, and clatter against the rest. Then he grabs another from the above cabinet’s short supply, walks to the fridge and begins searching for his next meal.

Weighing the roast beef leftovers with his hands Dean guesses there’s enough to slice off and  make a sandwich with. He grabs a few more ingredients to fill out the sandwich. Sprawls them on the island’s counter, surrounding the plate. Finishes preparation by slapping two pieces of bread down and pulling a knife from the door.

Sam finds him squirting mayonnaise on one of the bread pieces.

He walks in sifting through cards, brows scrunched together. “Dean?” he asks, “Have you seen our fake press passes?”

Dean spreads the mayonnaise with the knife blindly, watching his brother. “Why do you need those?”

“Figured after our last hunt we should update our old credentials so they, y’know, so they look like us.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean huffs, “maybe I got a few more wrinkles but that’s it.”

“ Sure, Dean .” Sarcasm drips from Sam’s words like icing off a warm cake. Dean lets it slide off him. Focuses instead on plastering the lettuce onto the mayonnaise so it will stick. However, while he presses his hand flat against the greens, Dean feels his skin burn under a focused spotlight. Glancing up he meets his brother’s gaze.

“What?”

“You’re eating,” Sam starts, lips pursed, “ again .”

Dean pauses with the tomato, squeezing it. “So?” he asks, “I got a healthy appetite.”

Unimpressed, Sam’s mouth implodes and stretches into a flat line. “Funny. That’s exactly what you said after you made that 50’s spread for breakfast… and made at least three different lunches… buffet dinner. This is…?”

He shrugs. “A midnight snack?”

“It’s not even midnight!”

“Fine, a nine-forty-five snack?”

Sam shakes his head, striding forward and closing the distance between them. Stopping at the island, across from him, he slides the IDs onto the edge. Quickly sneaking a peek, Dean sees a babyface version of himself smiling up at the ceiling. Laughing, probably because he knew the Federal Booby Inspector badge was a stupid risk that would pay off. Unaware of all the crap he’d have to wade through that made the first half of his life seem like a cakewalk. His brother clears his throat, drawing his attention back to him.

“Hey,” Sam says, voice soft and expectant in the way Dean hates . Like he cornered some injured animal, ready to snap. “Everything okay?”

Dean licks his wounds and snarls. “Peachy. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you seemed pretty down yesterday,” Sam dredges up the memory of the conversation from yesterday. Learning Chuck still kept a vested interest in ‘guiding’ them in their lives. Dean brushes his fingers against one of Lillith’s cuts, remembering how after Sam went to the library for research Dean hid in the kitchen and ate cookies, ice cream, and pretzels dipped in frosting. Fell asleep with a spoon in his mouth, slumped against the fridge.

“Of course,” Dean says, “it was a hell of a day.”

Sam nods, tapping his finger against Dean’s face. Each point of contact makes Dean flinch somewhat. Trying to carry on with what he was doing, Dean sets the tomato on a nearby cutting board. Cleans the knife with a rag and gently slices through it.

“Have you heard from Cas yet?”

The knife stops halfway into the second cut, Dean seizing. Eyes glued to the tomato, watching the juices slowly ooze from where he wounded it, he swallows around the lump in his throat. “No,” he tells him, “he hasn’t answered you yet?”

Sighing, Sam finally stops tapping and snatches the tiny bit of tomato Dean already chopped. He pops it into his mouth. “I’m starting to get worried,” he says, “it’s not like him to be radio silent.”

“I mean, yeah…” Dean says, continuing cutting with careful movements.

“Do you think maybe Chuck did something -”

“ No. ” A sharp whack accompanies him, startling Sam. “Look, Sam,” he continues, pointing the knife at him, “just because Cas hasn’t hit you back doesn’t mean something bad happened. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to us.” A panicked filter warps his voice. “Y’know maybe he decided, with all this free will, that he’d rather spend time with people who aren’t us and start fresh elsewhere. Maybe that ’s it.”

“Dean,” Sam says, careful with his approach, “It’s okay. Please calm down -”

“I am calm!” Dean shouts, knife waving wildly, “I’m also fed up hearing about this. About everything. ...Who cares?”

“ I do,” Sam tells him, “And so should you? What’s gotten into you?”

He won’t answer. Instead he returns the knife to the tomato. Slicing through it with enough force to scare his brother away from the path that tempts him.

Except he can’t be scared so easily. Sam rounds the island to question further. “Seriously,” he says, “Cas hasn’t answered us for this long and you’re not bouncing up the walls? You get sent to his voicemail one time and you think he’s found trouble and are raring to get out of here. This isn’t like you, Dean.”

“What?” he sighs, “You think this is Chuck again? Now he’s messing with how I react to things?”

“No! Maybe? I… I don’t know!” Sam bites his lip, his silence distracting Dean while he moves in for the next cut. “Because every time I try and talk about Cas you somehow change the subject and -”

“ Sonofabitch !”

Dean stumbles backwards and into the counter, hissing while pressing one hand against his palm. Sam’s eyes widen as he takes in the entire scene. From the droplets of blood mixing with the pooling tomato juice on the cutting board to his brother staring at his palm in disbelief.

“Dean?” Sam asks, “Dean did you cut yourself?”

His mouth opens and shuts, but no words escape.

Sam sighs, advancing towards his brother. About a few steps away Dean’s gaze jumps from his wound to him. Green eyes, usually so confident, were shaken by the accident. Sam’s figure looks warped like by some funhouse mirror. He flinches when Sam raises a hand with spindly fingers reaching for him. “Come on, Dean,” his brother says, “let’s get you patched up.”

The next time Sam inches close, Dean allows him to grab his wrist. First Sam inspects the cut, a clinical sweep detached in a way he wishes to have. But the second he caught sight of angry red that marred his skin Dean’s mind shot down into a terrifying whirlpool of darkness.

It wasn’t the most painful cut he ever received - especially in the past few days. But it was the straw that broke his back. Crueler than all the lives Chuck stole from their story, again and again, because the only one to blame was himself. He made another careless mistake and he now suffers for it. At the end of the day his own worst enemy isn’t sitting behind a computer screen but greets him in every reflection.

He sobs, a broken sound that surprises both of them. Sam turns away from the faucet, where Dean’s hand soaks under the running stream.

“Dean?”

“It… it, it...” he stutters, “it hurts .”

Sam glances at the cut, frown deepening. “I’m sorry if it stings,” he says, “a few more seconds and we can put some antiseptic on, then bandage -”

“Not the damn cut, Sammy,” Dean tells him, “ Everything hurts. In… in here.” He pokes his chest, tears freely flowing and drowning him. “What with Chuck… all that… that happened… Ma, Jack, Rowena, Ketch and… and Cas -” Knees buckling, Dean collapses to the floor. Sam follows and eases him so his knees don’t slam. “It all hurts and I feel so drained and - and empty. Especially after… and I keep eating, and eating, but Sam I’m never full. I… I can’t stop eating, I can’t stop hurting . Hurting everyone ... “

“Hey, hey hey hey hey,” Sam shushes him, squeezing his wrist and dragging him into a hug. Wet hand pressed flat between their chests, Sam rubs his back. “You’re not hurting everyone .”

“I want Chuck to end it already,” Dean admits to Sam’s shoulder, “Before I do it again. You’re the only one who hasn’t left me, Sam. Once you go I… I don’t think I can take anymore losses, man.”

“Don’t say that,” Sam growls, “It’s all Chuck’s fault, Dean. Chuck is controlling our lives - making us run this stupid maze of us. Using us for cheap entertainment to get his rocks off! It’s not you .”

It’s comforting to think it was Chuck pulling his strings in those moments. Dean considered it himself. But Sam only says this because he doesn’t know the whole truth. “It’s partly me,” Dean starts, deflating in Sam’s arms. “Mostly… Chuck put us in this crazy situation but he didn’t… he wasn’t feeding me lines when I said what I did to Cas. Blaming him for everything that went wrong and spitting on eleven years of… of us .”

“What -”?

“And now he’s gone!” Dean chuckles madly, more tears soaking Sam’s shirt, “He… he moved on . I didn’t think he’d do it but he did and I hate every day since.” Gasping, he leans away from Sam to look him in the eyes. Accepting the mild expression of disappointment shadowing his features. “All I want is him here, except every time I think of apologizing I can’t get past this stupid block. It could be fear or - or I’m still angry with Cas. I try and think about why I get this headache and it all becomes so… so confusing . Maybe that’s Chuck or maybe I’m a coward. Can’t talk to him but also can’t live like this… so I stuff my face. Only that’s not working either and I’m… I’m out of options Sam. What do I do?” Dean begs, “What do I do ?”

He quiets after the outburst, waiting for Sam’s response. Sam, his brother who can always see the light in a darkened room. Who can think through the toughest of puzzles and come up with an answer. Who has decades of emotional maturity over Dean who can’t say a few little words his best friend deserves without his palms sweating and jeans dampening. Swallowed his heart more times that there’s nowhere that hasn’t been burned by his stomach acid.

Too much time passes without a response. “Sam?” Dean shakes him, “What do I -”

“I can’t tell you that, Dean.”

“...What?”

“I can’t tell you,” he repeats, smiling, “and neither can Chuck. What happens next between you and Cas that… that’s up to you. I know you can do what’s right.”

“No… no, Sam,” Dean says, body trembling, “I… I can’t. Especially when it comes to Cas, man. My track record with him… I wasn’t always the best to him but he never thought that until… until I…” Chest heaving, Dean wipes away his tears. “I’m a screw up, Sam. I’ve always been… and that’s what I’ll keep being. Chuck doesn’t want me to have any character growth -”

“I wouldn’t say that Dean,” Sam interrupts, stretching forward. Blindly searches atop the counter, he smiles when he finds what he needs. As he brings it closer Dean sees they’re the fake credentials.

“Sam -”

“You’ve changed, Dean,” he shows off the top badge, that same frozen Dean from earlier smiling at him . “Do you think this guy would own up to his mistakes… would he struggle with his feelings… openly admit that he has them so easily like you have… cry in front of me? Dean you’re nothing like you were in the past. These two guys might be the same person but I prefer the you you are now and not the you you were then. He didn’t know who he was, didn’t allow himself the opportunity to explore different parts of himself. Stuck to one path and didn’t question if there were any others. Now you’re right, that on the surface nothing’s really changed… but I think we both know that the boy in this photo is a stranger.”

It’s always hard fighting Sam’s logic, especially with how worn out he feels. Even if he had enough energy to do so, Dean wouldn’t. Because finally Dean agrees with Sam. “It… doesn’t look like me. Like at all.”

Sam laughs, nodding. “I’ve been trying to tell you…”

“Updating these are gonna be a bitch, though,” he grouses, rubbing his eye, “I don’t think there’s a Kinkos left in America.”

Shrugging, Sam tucks the credentials into his shirt pocket. “I’m sure there’s still one kid with a van and a laminator.”

“Probably won’t accept a fake credit card though.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dean smiles. Breathes easier without the crushing weight of his worries on his chest. Shouldering them with Sam proves better than doing so alone. Their mirth dies and his brother returns to the heart of their conversation.

“So,” Sam says, “what do you want to do?”

Dean thinks about it. Reflects on his addled mind, extends his awareness past it and to his body. Checking in from the tips of his fingers to his toes. Relaxing against the island, he stretches his legs in front of him. “Kinda don’t feel like doing much of anything right now,” he admits, “just wanna sit here a while and do nothing.”

“That’s okay.” Sam unfolds himself as well, readying to stand from his crouch. Dean catches him before he fully stands. “What?”

“I... “ Dean can’t meet Sam’s curious gaze. Blushing, he stares at his lap. “I also don’t want to be alone…”

Sam’s mouth forms a perfect circle on its journey to becoming a gentle smile. “Sure, Dean,” he says. Mirroring Dean, Sam joins him on the floor. However where Dean’s feet brush the cabinets, Sam bends his knees to fit his log-like legs in the space.

Together they hide behind the island. Away from Chuck and all the responsibility waiting for them. Soon they won’t be able to run away from all that needs addressing. To be the men they are and face each challenge with courage in their hearts.

But for this moment, they’re the boys they were. Boys they haven’t been since before the fire. Brothers sitting in the kitchen, together.

Many things might change, but the most important things don’t. What Dean believes in, what his angel means to him, and how important his brother is to him.

“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, too, Dean.”

“...I promise not to kill you if you don’t try and kill me.”

Snickering, Sam shoves at him. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“What?”

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn15 #15x05 #Proverbs 17:3 #Supernatural fanfiction #Spn fanfic #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #Winchester brotherly bonding

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch19: Cut Off One Head...

Summary: The Avengers have been tracking Hydra for a number of months now, systematically making their way through each base that their intel provides them...but a routine business trip turns out to be something far more sinister than Katie and Tony were planning for...

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, bad language, angst...

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: The next few chapters take a bit of a dark turn...warnings will be detailed.

Tag list is open- Send me an ask

Open for suggestions to one-shots as well

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

September 2014

“I’m not saying that I’m not open to the idea. I just don’t understand why you think we need to buy the firm,“ Katie said for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. Tony glared at her and simply shook his head as he sat waiting in the reception area of the office block in Minnesota. “I’m not even gonna ask what you were doing that kept you up so late you clearly didn’t get enough sleep last night you cranky brat.” Katie rolled her eyes but she felt a small smirk pulling at her lips as she remembered very well the events of last night as Steve had quite frankly lost his shit at the fact she was wearing the new baby blue lace matching underwear set he had bought her just because he wanted to, but she caught herself, “Sleep or lack of, has nothing to do with it. I’m serious, Tony. We don’t need it”. “Investing” he said holding his finger up “building the brand. That’s what business is all about.” She groaned “Thanks for the lesson on running a business, you know, in case I didn’t know how to, but that is NOT the vision I have for SIP.” “Look, you said yourself when this proposal landed on your desk you were curious.” “I am!” She protested, and she was. From the research they had done, the company that had approached them, Hall General Publishers LTD, held the same ideas as SIP, except they focused on Biographies that were published in series magazines. They had reached out to SIP for a potential collaboration on a fiction series that they had been approached to run and felt it was out of their field, but they were keen to see if they could join forces. It had instantly caught Katie’s attention and imagination but as usual Tony had gone off on one and suggested they buy the smaller company out. “I’m curious about their proposal, and the potential to do business, collaborate yes, but not take over!” “Look, it’s a day out of the office, chance to forget about Tin Man and Hydra” Tony shrugged and Katie gave a groan of frustration again. “And their profits are pretty impressive. We can use them, keep their brand…” “Whatever” she said as she glanced around at the foyer. It was clinical, white, all clean lines. Nothing like the entrance to Stark, sorry Avengers Tower as it was now called .Mind you, that was to be expected from a ‘rent an office’. Eddie Hall, the MD of HGP had requested the meeting take place away from either of their offices to avoid anyone catching news of the potential collaboration and had arranged to hire a room at block some 10 miles outside of Saint Paul. Tony had shrugged when Katie questioned it, saying it wasn’t unusual for people to hire external meeting venues in order to keep things under the radar. “Miss Stark? Mr Stark, I’m so sorry,” the dark haired man hurrying across the foyer said. He was about 6 foot tall, slim, and was wearing a sharp black suit. Both Katie and Tony stood up, Tony extending a hand.

“Mr Hall I presume?”

 “Yes…” the man said, shaking both their hands “Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to ensure the room was ready…“

“It’s only a few minutes.” Katie said smiling at him, “No apologies necessary.”

 They followed him into the elevator and he selected the top floor and turned to the siblings

“Thank you for coming out here. I know the cloak and dagger thing is probably a bit much but I don’t want people getting wind of it. There’s a few changes coming at the company and I don’t want any of them making any assumptions…” “Understandable.” Tony sniffed, looking around the elevator.

They emerged onto the top floor, and he led them left down the corridor. Katie looked around, the whole place smelt of paint and there was decorating equipment dotted around. She frowned. “It’s a new office facility.” Hall explained, looking at her. “Owned by a friend of mine and they’re still kitting it all out. But he said this was the best room to use. It’s mocked up like a board room you see…” Katie nodded and shared a look with Tony, she was starting to feel ever so slightly uneasy. Tony just shook his head and patted his pocket where his trusty Iron gauntlet cuff sat. Neither of them had come with their suits, this was supposed to be a straight forward business meeting after all. But she took a deep breath, she was probably just being over sensitive after everything that had happened recently...

Hall stopped outside a door to the left and opened the room, revealing nothing but darkness. "Oh, sorry,” Hall let out a sigh of frustration, sweeping into the room. “Yes. Let me just… find the lights.” Tony looked at Katie, arching an eyebrow. 

No window? he mouthed at her, his hand slipping into his pocket as they stepped into the room, Katie not quite sure they should be to be honest but… “Yes. Here we go,” the man said brightly, flipping on the light and flooding the small room with light as the door slammed shut behind them.

That’s why it didn’t have a window. It was a fucking storage room. And it contained three men in dark suits standing before them, each with a rifle trained on their chests. Katie instantly stopped, drawing a deep breath of shock. Besides her she saw Tony in the corner of her eye quickly move to pull the cuff from the depth of his pocket, but he suddenly stumbled forward and fell immediately, the cuff flying out of his hand as the man they knew as Mr Hall stepped round them both and leaned against the wall to their right.

Katie spun round to see another man to the left and her eyes widened as she instantly recognised him.

“Grant?“ She frowned, looking up at the face of her ex "What… what’s going on? "You know, I thought when you dumped all those files on the internet you might have actually read them.” He smirked, stepping forward and glancing down at Tony who had sat up and was watching him, his face contorted with hatred and rage. Katie swallowed as she took in his words before she shook her head as her eyes grew wide in sudden understanding.

“Heil Hydra.” Ward’s smile spread further across his face.

The agents around the room started to close in. One of them, a larger built man who reminded her a little of Rumlow spoke in a deep voice.

“This is the one you say we need?” Ward nodded and at that point Tony slowly got to his feet, backing up, placing himself between his sister and the man who is advancing on her, the two of them backing towards the door.

“Need me for what?” Katie said, her voice soft as her back hit the wooden surface.

“Answers.” The large man said, looking bored at Tony’s display of protectiveness.

 “About what?” She said, a bit louder this time.

“Well, you see Kay…” Ward said and Katie turned to her left to look at him as Tony emitted a low growl in his throat at the use of his old pet name for her, Ward chuckled before he started again “We’ve had a bit of a problem since you and your boyfriend, sorry fiancée, congratulations on that by the way…” he smiled, and she glared at him in response “Yes, ever since you took down SHIELD, we’ve been a little bit on the back foot, constantly watching our backs, trying to figure out where SHIELD or the Avengers are going to pop up next. So we figured, we needed a bit of inside intel.” The larger officer yanked Katie’s arm and pulled her out from between the door and Tony, flinging her into the middle of the room where another one of the agents grabbed her. Another one stepped quickly in front of her brother, blocking his path to her.

 “Ok, stop…” Tony held his hands up, turning back to Ward and the other man. “If you want someone, take me. I’m more involved in the Avengers anyway…“

His voice was level but Katie could hear a level of desperation.

“Yeah, much as I’d love to take you in for a kicking Tony, the problem is she’s the only one of you who knows he’s alive and what he’s likely to be doing so…” “Knows who is alive?” Tony frowned as Katie swallowed thickly. Coulson, that’s the only person they could be talking about. But before she could say anything one of the agents butt Tony hard in the back of the head with the handle of his gun and he fell to the floor.

 Katie yelled out and started towards him, but the Agent holding her tightened his grip on her arm to the point of it being painful.

 “Now you’re gonna come with us, out of this building, quietly, no fuss and no escape attempts” the big man spoke to her “Otherwise Ward here is gonna put a bullet in his head” “And how do I know you’re not gonna do that anyway?” she said, through her tears.

“Because it’s more trouble than its worth.” Ward said “And frankly, the thought of him alive, worrying about you is far more satisfying.” Katie glanced down at her brother, who was starting to push himself up, until Ward kicked him hard in the ribs and he collapsed, groaning, as Ward hit him on the back of the head again, knocking him out.

“Alright, alright…” she said, her voice cracking. “I’ll come. Just leave him alone.” She was shoved harshly forward, her heeled feet slipping slightly as the door was pulled open. She stopped suddenly, turning to Ward. “You better watch your back.” she looked at him “When Steve finds out about this you’re a dead man.” Ward chuckled “In a bit sweetheart.” She was shoved forward again, and managed one glance over her shoulder at Tony who was sprawled on the floor before she was shoved out of the room.

***** Tony groaned, as he pushed himself up slowly, the room spinning.

 “Kiddo?” he croaked, as he looked around. He was alone, no sign of anyone. He scrambled across the floor, and tried the door which was locked, before he slumped heavily against it, his trembling hands started to feel his suit pockets. His phone was gone, of course, as was his cuff and Katie’s laptop. He lay his head back against the door as he started to piece together what had happened. It was an ambush, Ward…Hydra…

 Hydra had his sister. For information. About someone no one knew was alive? Were they referring to Fury? He ran his hand over his face again, and was just about to think about screaming in the vain hope they heard him on reception, but he stopped, suddenly. They hadn’t taken his watch.

Thick Hydra bastards. 

With shaky fingers he pressed the button at the side and the face lit up orange.

 "Yes, sir?“ JARVIS spoke and Tony almost gave a sob of relief before he spoke a simple instruction, all he can think to blurt out before he gives into the throbbing in his head once more.

“Alert Captain Rogers. Send help.”

***** Steve was in the now finished training room with Thor. The pair of them were currently debating if the large room would stand up to them trying out a new move- Thor hitting Steve’s shield with his hammer to create the same wave it had done in the forest that time. It was useful, and Steve was thinking about perfecting it, seeing if it could be directed in anyway.

 “What metal is it made from anyway?”  Steve nodded to Mjolnir as Thor was throwing it up and down.

 “It was forged from the heart of a dying star- Nidevalir…” Thor said, as Steve picked up his shield.

 “It’s made from a star?”

 “No, metal, which was forged by a star.” Thor corrected.

Steve was about to comment that he still hadn’t answered the question when a red light started flashing in the corner of the room, along with a low siren, and Jarvis’ voice cut across them.

“Captain Rogers, Mr Stark has just sent a distress signal.”

 Steve instantly looked at Thor, swallowing slightly. “A distress…they were on a business trip. “I’ve no other details other than to alert you and send help.” There was a loud clap of thunder and Steve turned to see Thor was now clad in his armour and the God nodded at him as the two of them sprinted from the room. Steve’s mouth was dry and his mind was running overtime about what trouble they could possibly be in, but as they headed down the corridor to the armoury he found his voice.

“JARVIS, tell everyone to suit up and meet at the jet, now.” “Of course Captain. I’ve patched the location through to the jet.”

“I’m sure they will be fine.” Thor offered as some attempt at re-assurance. But as Steve picked shrugged on the top half of his uniform and grabbed his utility belt he didn’t feel very re-assured.

Maria Hill met them in the hangar “I heard the signal, is everything ok?” “Tony and Katie…” Steve said, “They were at a business meeting but Tony just sent out a distress signal.” Maria looked at him and then nodded “I’ll start doing some digging into who they were meeting.”

 He nodded, and strode up the ramp to the jet. They’d been in the air about 30 minutes when Maria patched through to them

 “I don’t know who they were meeting but it isn’t Eddie Hilll” she sighed “He was reported missing three days ago by his wife.”

 “So whoever took them got to him first.” Nat said, looking at Steve. “Took him out, replaced him with an imposter”

“And it’s probably safe to assume he’s dead.” Steve said, flatly. “Hill, start doing some digging. Into Hall…anything that might help.”

“On it Cap.”

It took them approximately another 10 minutes to get to the location JARVIS had programmed for them. And it felt like 10 years. Ever since receiving the distress call the entire team had been on tenterhooks, Steve especially, remaining stoic and unyielding, although he felt anything but, knowing his girl could be in trouble.

 The receptionists face was a picture when the Avengers, led by a focussed, stern looking Captain America stormed into the building and demanded to know what room the Starks were in. Tony heard them shouting on the corridor, Thor kicking over paint cans as he went, and he yelled, banging on the door.

 “Stand back…” Steve’s voice was loud before he aimed a huge kick at the door, breaking it easily along with the frame which splintered out of the wall.

“Where’s Katie?” Steve asked, swallowing and looking round, almost as if he expected her to be hiding somewhere.

“They took her.” Tony said, pacing in front of him “I tried to stop them but…”

“Who?” Steve looked at him and Tony sighed, his eyes brimming “Tony, who took her?” Steve’s voice was desperate.

“Hydra.” he bit out, and Steve felt his mouth drop open before he took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face.

Hydra, fucking Hydra. “I don’t understand…“ Thor began, but Tony cut him off. “And you think I do?” he shouted at the God, his entire body trembling as he stopped pacing in front of him “I… we…” He stopped, unable to speak, his breaths coming in short, rapid bursts. Steve was too preoccupied to notice. He was simply staring down at the floor, his posture slumped as he removed his helmet which felt like it was suffocating him, his head kept replaying what Tony had told him.

 Hydra had her. They had her.

 Banner grabbed Tony by the shoulders and gave him a single shake before he looked at him “Tony, focus on me, ok, keep breathing…”

 Tony slumped to the floor and Banner knelt down with him. “What did they say?“ Steve’s voice was thick as he turned to look at him. Tony swallowed and Bruce squeezed his shoulder “It was a trap. The man, Hall. We came to meet him only Ward and…” “Ward?” Clint’s head snapped round at the sound of that name, frowning “Ward is Hydra?”

Tony nodded and Steve let out a lowly growl of frustration.

“They wanted her, said they needed inside intel. I told them to take me, I said, take me instead, but they wouldn’t, Ward said that she’s the only one who knows…knows that someone is alive and what he’s likely to be doing…”

 At that Steve’s mind started whirring. Ward- she’d worked that last case with him and Coulson. She was the only Avenger that knew Coulson was alive, bar him, and no one knew she’d told him. Other than Fury that is.

 “Who’s alive, who were they talking about?” Natasha frowned.

“I don’t know!” Tony bellowed.

“Maybe they meant Fury?” Banner suggested, looking up.

Steve’s voice was quiet as he looked up. “They mean Coulson.”

 “What?” Tony wheeled round to face him “Coulson? He’s…he was killed, they buried him…” Steve shook his head before looking up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath “He’s alive. The last case Katie worked at SHIELD, the Asgardian staff case…” “The what?” Thor frowned, but Steve ignored him.

 “It was Coulson’s team she worked with. Ward was part of it.” “And you didn’t think to tell us?” Clint frowned at Steve

“What good would it have done Barton?” Steve snapped, before once more his hands ran over his face. The room fell silent until Nat spoke again.

“Ok, so even if he is alive, that doesn’t explain why they think she knows something.” she pressed “What do they think she knows that’s so important they’d risk taking her?” Steve grit his teeth “I’ve no idea. But I bet Fury does.”

“I’ll get Hill to find him.” Natasha says, pulling out her phone and leaving the room.

“I need to get to back to New York to access everything.” Tony said, suddenly “Start searching our intel, anything…” “What about the media?” Bruce suddenly said. “Should we release her photo?” Tony looked up but before he could speak Steve answered.

 "No. If we do that…” He shook his head. “The press’ll start digging and it could flush them further underground.” “Cap” Clint protested gently. “If we can get her picture out there, have more people on the lookout…”

 Steve shook his head, a miserable yet stubborn pout pulling at his bottom lip. “No.” “We are in the dark here!” Barton snapped.

 Steve turned on him, puffing out his chest. “There’s no way they did this and didn’t leave any sort of trail.”

 “A trail? Jesus Cap, these bastards grew within SHIELD for over 70 fucking years and no one noticed!” Clint snapped

 “I KNOW!” Steve roared.

Thor, who had been watching the exchange quietly up until that point stepped forward, placing his large hand on the Captain’s shoulder.

 “I know it is hard, but you need to remain calm Captain.” he said. Steve looked up at him, giving him a nod, taking a deep breath. Thor turned to Barton “I agree that we should have everyone we can hunting for little Stark, but maybe not straight away. We should regroup, get as much information as we can.” Clint nodded. “I’ll go see if they have CCTV. Maybe we can identify who else was with Ward.” Steve nodded at him as he turned and left the room.

 “I’m going to see if I can find anything outside.” Thor said “tracks, a trail…” he released his hold on the Captain leaving him in the room with just Bruce and Tony.

 Bruce had both his hands on Tony’s shoulders as the man sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. “I tried to stop them…” Tony said, his head rocking back and forth “I tried, I really did.”

Steve said nothing. He couldn’t. Instead he stood impossibly still despite the ground feeling ready to crumble beneath him.

*****

Thor’s search drew a blank. So after quizzing the staff who were distraught when they realised what had happened, they took the CCTV footage and headed back to base. The jet was silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

Steve was trying to make connections. What was Coulson doing, and why did Hydra, mistakenly, think Katie knew about it? Why had no one told them Ward was Hydra? There was no logic in any of this, other than the fact they were desperate, broken and desperate to take the one person they knew for sure had a link to the assumed dead agent. And as that thought echoed in his head, he realised Barton was right. If he had told the rest of the Avengers about Coulson, then maybe they would have taken anyone else. The fact that he found himself wishing it was one of the others instead of her made him feel slightly ashamed but he couldn’t help it. Suddenly, the jet became hot and he felt the bile rising in his throat. He spun up out of his chair and just made it to the small bathroom at the back of the jet before he threw up.

They arrived back at base just after 2 in the afternoon, and immediately went into overdrive, running facial recognition on the CCTV, Tony instructing Jarvis to sift through the files for any mention of Ward in the vain hope it would give them a clue as to where they might have taken her.

Steve was numb, for once he was failing to direct his team, so Clint took it upon himself to organise everyone, which he was grateful for. Suddenly he felt his phone ring, and he pulled it out of his pocket as fast as he could, a low grown of frustration coming from his throat when he saw it was Sam.

 “Sam, I need to keep the line clear” he answered, sharply.

“Woah, Cap…what’s going down?”

“Katie…” he said, stumbling over his words “She’s…she’s been taken, by Hydra.” There was a pause and then the man spoke again, 4 words, before he hung up.

 “I’m on my way.”

Steve slid his phone back into his pocket and took a deep breath. He needed to focus. He was no good to Katie like this. He glanced over at his team, locked eyes with Thor who gave him a nod, and he strode across to see if there was anything he could help with.

It was an hour or so before they made any decent progress.

 "We got a positive ID on one of the Agents,“ Hill said as she strode into the common room, handing Steve a file. He took it and glanced down, moving the surveillance photos they had extracted from the CCTV footage to one side, reading the information in it as Bruce continued. “Eric Jones. Ex SHIELD enforcer, clearly still active in Hydra. He worked out of one of the Canadian bases SHIELD had in Toronto, it fell when SHIELD did. We’re still running facial for the others, but I’ve told JARVIS to focus on the guy that Tony said was posing as Hall.” Steve nodded.

“We have a home address for Jones.” Hill added “But we’ve no idea if he’s been there recently or…” “We’ll check it out.” Nat said standing up, patting Clint on his chest with the back of her hand. He nodded and stood up just as Steve spoke again.

“How did Ward know?” he looked up and turned to Tony “how did any of them know that you were gonna be there?”

Tony didn’t look away from the window as he replied "I don’t know. The company is real, we did all our research. They’re based in Saint Paul, not far from where we were.”

 “So either Ward got wind of it and took it as an opportunity or Hall was in on it from the start.”

 “If he was in on it then why kill him?” Thor asked gravely.

“Maybe they were worried he was going to blab.” Clint shrugged.

 “When we’ve been to Jones’ we’ll head over there, see if we can dig anything up.” Clint looked at Steve who gave him a nod before JARVIS cut across them.

 “Mr Stark. Director Fury and Agent Coulson are here.” “Send them up J.” Tony said, standing up.

 Steve took a deep breath and looked at Clint and Natasha “You two wait and see what he has to say before you go. It might help.”

*****

The news Fury and Coulson gave was received as well as could be anticipated. Thor let out a loud growl, turning over his chair in anger whilst the rest of the group started to angrily chatter amongst themselves, all except Steve. He simply looked at Fury, then got up from his chair, the anger radiating from every inch of his body as he strode towards him, jaw clenching.

“Rogers…” he began but shut up immediately as the Captain’s fist connected with the former Director’s nose with a satisfying crack which rang around the now silent room. Fury stumbled backwards, falling to the floor, and he wiped at his face, eyeing the trickle of blood from his shattered nose as waved away Hill away who had stepped forwards to help him.

 “Come on…” Thor patted Steve’s chest, “this isn’t helping anyone.”

 “You knew?” Steve glared down at the director. “You knew they had the damned thing and didn’t think to tell any of us that you were tracking it?”

 “It would have blown Coulson’s cover.” Fury said, standing up “What he is doing has to go under the radar…” “And because of that they took her.” Steve spat “Because Ward knows she knows he…”he pointed to Coulson “is alive, and because we worked with you to take them down, they think she knows something!”

 “Let’s just break this down…” Tony sighed, rubbing his face “How did they get it, I thought the Sceptre was on Asgard?” Tony frowned, looking at Thor. “You took it with Loki.”

 “No, I took the tesseract.” Thor said. “The sceptre was taken by err…not SHIELD, well a part of SHIELD but…”

 “Why did you not tell us about this?” Clint snapped, his usual placid mannerisms now spiked with anger as he turned to Maria. “Why has it taken us raiding fuck knows how many bases, and Nova getting taken for us to find out?”

“Barton, The rubble of the Triskelion took ages to sort out, the other SHIELD strongholds had been obliterated or infiltrated at the same time” she explained “Hundreds if not thousands of things have gone missing. Files, hard drives, laptops, alien artefacts, security badges, flash drives… the list keeps growing. We didn’t know it was missing until recently!” “Recently? How recent?” “Last week.” she looked down and Steve gave a snort as Clint growled.

“You should have destroyed it.” Steve looked at Fury, “Just like everything else you had in that god-damned lab.”

“We couldn’t” Coulson looked at him, and then Steve gave a sarcastic laugh as he understood perfectly what the man was saying.

“Of course not, because you never had it in the first place did you?” “What, I thought…” Tony began but Natasha cut him off.

“Sitwell and STRIKE collected the sceptre.” she said quietly “They were Hyrda, they’ve had it right from the start.“

The room fell silent bar silent and a large clap of thunder started outside, making them jump.

“Sorry.” Thor grumbled.

“Fuck this shit.” Clint suddenly spat out, “Nat come on, we got somewhere to be.” he turned to Steve “If we find anything we’ll let you know.” Steve nodded as the arched clapped him on the shoulder and he left.

Nat turned to him, as if she was going to say something, but she didn’t. She swallowed and gave him a nod, before hurrying after her friend. Steve looked down at the floor, which was once more spinning under his feet. Hydra would be trying to get information out of Katie that she simply didn’t have. And the thought of what they would be doing… one more he felt the bile rise in his stomach and he turned, rushing from the room and made it down the corridor to the rest rooms. He pushed open the door of a cubicle, and threw the contents of his stomach up before slumping to the floor, his knees tucked to his chest, and he let out a loud cry of frustration, anger, his chest constricting around him as the tears began to fall.

*****

 Natasha and Clint’s re-con turned up something interesting.

 “Nothing at Jones’ place, it looks like it hasn’t been lived in for months, however, when we spoke to the Deputy CEO who’s running the gaff in Hall’s absence, he recognised the guy posing as Hall.” Clint looked at him “Peter Jackson their head of IT. Ran his face through the system and turns out he’s also known as Gary Jepson, ex SHIELD technician.”

 Steve ran his hand over his face, scratching the stubble on his chin as he glanced down at the photo. He hadn’t shaved since God knows when.

 “So there’s our connection.” he said and Natasha nodded

“Apparently he got the job a few months ago. Timeline tallies with when Hyrdra fell. Apparently he and Mr Hall had a mutual love of American Football, they hit it off, used to go for beers at lunch occasionally”

 Tony’s head hurt “I still don’t understand where Ward fits into this?”

“They both worked out of the Fridge.” Natasha said, “At the same time. They must know each other that way.”

 “From what Coulson told us, Ward has been rallying round people he knew.” Clint spoke “And, this is all supposition, but if you ask me Jepson probably tried to go legit, melted into the background post SHIELD falling but when he gets a call from his old friend, who tells him they’re not as dead as they could he reaches out. And then when he hears about the potential deal with SIP…”

 And then it clicked in Steve’s mind. .

 “I don’t think he did hear about it.” he said, speaking for the first time. “You just said he was their head of IT….” “He could have easily sent those emails from Hall’s account…” Tony gave a groan. “It was all a set up from the start.”

 *****

 It was the week before Christmas. He’d been home from university for 2 weeks and his Dad was already pissing him off. Tonight, both parents were out and Tony was babysitting. He should be out himself, he knew that, Rhodey had invited him to a party, but when Katie had turned those green eyes on him and told him she didn’t want the babysitter she wanted him to stay and ‘hang’ with her (yes, he was especially proud he’d taught his 5 year old sister the word hang) just like he used to before he went away, he’d melted and told his parents to cancel the sitter.

 They’d played a board game- Snakes and Ladders. She won the tie breaker (even though he could have beaten her). They’d then watched The Snowman (well, it was nearly Christmas), Tony doing his best Choir boy impression to make her giggle, they’d had hot chocolate and marshmallows with a candy cane stuck out of the top (yes, he knew she wasn’t allowed it after 6pm but like he gave a shit) he’d then done the whole bedtime routine of supervising whilst she brushed her teeth, but she shoved him out of the room when she needed to pee. Then he’d read her a story, tucked her in well over an hour and a half after she was supposed to be in bed, and was now relaxing with a stolen glass of his dad’s scotch (cheers Dad) in front of Die Hard.  He was about halfway through the film when he heard a small sniff in the hall and she padded into the living room clutching her Winnie the Pooh teddy.

 “What are you doing out of bed?” Tony looked at his sister “I already let you stay up way later than Mom said you could!”

“Bad dream” she said, sobbing. He opened his arms and she clambered onto his lap. “There’s a monster under my bed.”

“Nah, I killed it last week, remember?”

“It’s a new one.” she said, looking at him.

“That so…right…” he said, standing up abruptly “This calls for the Monster Killer…”

The Monster Killer, AKA the Vacuum.

Grabbing it, he marched up the stairs and plugged it in. Once it was on he dived under the bed “Get here you son of a…arrrgh…” he made a big deal of thumping the floor and yelling. Eventually he stilled and emerged, turning it off.

“Got it!” he said,

Katie smiled and her hands went up in the air in celebration “My hero Tones!” before she wrapped her small arms around his neck and he hugged her back.

“I’ll always protect you, Kiddo, what are big brothers for?” "Tony?” His entire body jumped as he looked up and realised it was Pepper. He shifted slightly and let out a small breath. ”Yeah?”

 "It’s late,“ she told him simply, but no unkindly. "Come back to bed.”

He shook his head and looked back down at the laptop on his knee. 

“You have to get some sleep.” she sighed, crossing the room before she dropped onto the dark leather sofa besides him “I know it’s hard right now, but – “ "Hard?” he interrupted with a scoff, “Hard? Great description.”

Pepper ignored his jibe and sighed “You haven’t slept in days. We can’t take a step back to where we were after New York. You need to sleep.“

 “I need to keep up with SIP.” he said, shaking his head. “She’s got so many potential authors and projects going…I mean, I can’t let her company crash…what do I tell them all anyway? What do I tell her work force?” “I had an email sent out from HR yesterday.” Pepper said

“Saying what?” Tony rounded on her.

 “That she was on extended leave for the foreseeable.” Pepper said “In the meantime, they’re all reporting into Jenny Jones.” “Who the fuck is Jenny Jones?” Tony looked at her. Pepper took a deep breath.

“She’s the General Manager.” Pepper said “Katie hired her last week.”

He looked at Pepper before the tears sprung into his eyes “the foreseeable…” “I’m sorry.” Pepper says, “I didn’t know what to say.”

 "The foreseeable, until they realise she doesn’t know anything…and they kill her too.” “You don’t know that,” Pepper said, and her voice for the first time trembled.

 Tony looked at her for a moment, before he broke.

*****

The days bled into weeks. And nothing.  They had identified every goddamned Hydra agent on that CCTV footage now, but they had still found nothing. When Sam had arrived they’d gone back and re-raided every fucking Hydra base they could think of. Nothing. They were stabbing in the dark, and with every day that passed they knew the chances of them finding Katie were getting thinner and thinner.

Steve had a headache. A bad one. One that felt like it was going to split his head in two. He pressed the heel of his palm to the space between his eyes in a desperate attempt to quell the pain.

“Shit, steady on Cap…”

 Steve looked up and stopped before he walked straight into Tony.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“No.” Steve bit back, before he sighed “Sorry, headache…” He looked at his fiancé’s brother, the worry evident in Tony’s face as well. In fact, it seemed the pair of them now sported that expression constantly, and had done since Katie had gone missing just over 3 weeks ago.

“I thought you were going to get some sleep” Tony said as his eyes scanned down Steve’s body, taking in the fact he was in the same jeans and T-shirt he had been at their meeting last night. Another useless meeting.

He lets out a long breath. “Couldn’t.”

“Me neither.” Tony said, shrugging “Kinda hard… “

“I know.” Steve nodded, looking at Tony.

"I just…I just keep thinking,” Tony said, “I keep thinking about… how I could’ve avoided this. How I should have spotted it was a trap, how I couldn’t stop them taking her…” “This isn’t your fault Tony.” Steve shook his head, thankful that he could now say this honestly. At first he had been angry, angry that the man hadn’t been quicker or able to protect his sister, but that anger had fast dissipated. Without the Iron Man suit, Tony wasn’t a trained fighter. He was physically fit, yes, but not everyone had super serum coursing through their veins. The man was as broken as he was at her being gone, his sister, daughter even, gone, without a trace.

 "I miss her,” Tony said, his soft words still cut harshly into the surrounding quiet. “I just… miss her.”

Steve dropped his gaze. He missed her, God did he miss her. They’d only been engaged, for what? Coming up 3 months when she was taken and were still in that excited phase of it. They hadn’t gotten down to any planning of any sorts, but that hadn’t stopped their late night, post love making discussions about it. Katie gently teasing him and stating all the things she was going to get, like doves, and fire eaters…utter bullshit of course, because she had no desire for any of that showy crap.

He missed her so much it hurt. Her laugh, her smile, the way she looked at him, her bantering with everyone in the common room, the way he would walk into a room where she was speaking with Natasha and the pair of them looked at him and broke into giggles making him paranoid, the way she kissed him, the way she felt, her hands running through his hair.

Tony cleared his throat harshly and Steve looked at him. “Me too Tony, me too.”

Tags

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@thewackywriter​          

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#steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #clint barton #hawkeye #sam wilson #falcon #natasha romanoff #black widow #thor #bruce banner #hulk #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #fanfic #fancfiction #nick fury #phil coulson #maria hill #heil hydra #stark spangled banner

[choupichoups]

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.3

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

“I think it’s about you.”

“… I don’t think so.”

“Lulu, please, the guy’s hardcore indirecting you. There’s a heart and all. Acknowledge the effort.”

“How are you so sure?”

The four of them are huddled around his phone, scrutinizing Eliott’s latest story. Half built furniture lay around in haphazard piles on the floor, two empty pizza boxes shoved in a corner near where a dangerously tilting dining table stands.

“Aren’t you meeting at 13h tomorrow? Would have been exactly 24 hours away at the time he posted that.”

Lucas still thinks the guys are reaching, but he lets it slide. He’s not quite over the whiplash of seeing Eliott’s gorgeous face closely followed by that silly raccoon photo. This man is ridiculous and Lucas can’t wait to tell him that to his face. 

Assuming he’d be able to string proper sentences around Eliott anyway. 

“What’s with the raccoon, though?” Arthur asks, sprawling on the floor as he balances a can of soda on his chest. 

“It’s his spirit animal,” Lucas murmurs, tapping away from the story. Eliott hasn’t posted anything else. “What?” He looks up to three sets of raised eyebrows. “He mentioned it in a live once!”

“Okay, I see, so you’re really the creep in this scenario.”

His eyes roll up to the ceiling, “I am not.”

“But for real though, how do we know this guy isn’t a fuck boy?” The question comes from Basile, giving Lucas pause. He spares Basile the stinkiest side eye he can manage, one foot shooting out to kick at the boy’s leg. “Ow! I’m just looking out for you.”

“This, coming from you?” 

“Hey now, I’ve learned from my mistakes.” Basile fixes the glasses sliding off his face — reading glasses that he likes to wear because he thinks they make him look smart — and slaps Lucas’ offending foot away. “I’m a whole new person from who I was yesterday.”

“Whatever. Besides, Yann’s coming with me tomorrow,” Lucas says, gazing up at his best friend with a pleading smile. “Just to walk with me to the building, right?" 

“I am?” 

Yes, or Lucas would die from nerves before they even make eye contact and Eliott would only find his corpse at the bridge. Nobody needs that sort of tragedy right now. “Please?” He musters up the most pitiful puppy eyes he's capable of.

Yann sighs, “I guess I am.”

“Can I come?” Arthur sits up, almost knocking his drink over in the process.

“No.”

“Why not? I wanna make sure he’s not a creep too!”

“Yann’s got it covered.” 

“This isn’t fair, Lulu.”

“I wanna come too!” That one's from Basile.

Lucas snorts, “Nope.”

He pulls instagram back up because he lacks control over his own actions, as per previously established. But instead of scrolling through the feed, he snaps a photo of the lone box of pizza in arm’s reach of their wonky circle. 

They sit around on the floor arguing on instagram despite being next to each other, last slice of pizza remaining untouched. 

But Lucas promptly abandons the post when he sees a new private message pop up.

srodulv What are you wearing?

“Oh my fucking god,” he says before he can stop himself. The rest of the gang perks up, throwing increasingly ludicrous questions at him all at once. “Wait, shut up, shut up.” He waves his arms at them, playfully shoving Arthur off when the other boy tries for a glimpse at his screen.

“Is it Eliott?” Yann asks, obviously trying to be the level headed one of the four.

“Yeah,” he manages to squeak out, thoroughly distracted. 

srodulv Tomorrow I mean :)

lucallemant Stop that

srodulv What? I didn’t do anything

lucallemant I swear to god Why do you wanna know

srodulv So I can see you from afar and sneak up on you

lucallemant ??

srodulv It’ll be cute

lucallemant lol stop that 

srodulv What if I can’t find you?

lucallemant Then I’ll find you I can sneak up on you instead Cause I know exactly what you’re wearing

srodulv Why?  Cause you’ll be stalking me again?

lucallemant No Cause you wear the same thing everyday

srodulv I do not

lucallemant Yes you do 

srodulv I don’t! It’s just my jacket

lucallemant Okay

srodulv What okay?

lucallemant Okay :)

srodulv Lucas

lucallemant :)

He looks up after noticing the silence around him, finding Yann’s dead stare, Basile’s open mouthed one, and Arthur’s— well, Arthur’s got the last piece of pizza stuffed in his mouth. “What?”

“He was smiling at his phone.” Basile turns to Yann as if Lucas isn’t sitting right there. 

“Yeah,” Yann agrees. “Did you see the way he just ignored us? Not cool.”

“Bro code broken.”

Lucas rolls his eyes so hard he’s momentarily worried it’d get stuck like that forever. 

srodulv So you see me enough to judge my fashion huh

lucallemant How’d you manage to turn this around in your favour

srodulv It’s an acquired skill 

lucallemant Impressive 

srodulv So? 

lucallemant So what?

srodulv I’m not getting an answer am I?

lucallemant Smart man

His phone rings with a different tone just as he hits send, bringing Lucas out of his lovestruck cheesing quite abruptly. The name flashing on the screen has him up on his feet in a nanosecond, leaving the guys crawling around picking on Arthur for consuming their current source of entertainment.

“Where you goin’?” Arthur calls out as Lucas moves away. 

“Gotta take this.” He gestures at his phone then points to the balcony where he’s headed. “Hey, Marie, what’s up?” 

“Afternoon, Lucas. How are you?”

“Good, good. Is everything alright?”

“Yes! Your mother’s actually the one who asked me to call. She just can’t find her phone,” Marie chuckles from the other line. “But she wants to ask if you have any free time at all today? We’re due for a little fresh air ourselves.”

“Okay, what time?”

“We’re thinking of heading out in an hour? We can meet you at the bus stop one block off the clinic.” 

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll bring Champ.”

“Yes!” He jumps a little, running back to where the guys are still spread out on the floor.

Marie laughs, “I see who you’re most excited to meet.”

“Don’t tell mama.” He laughs along, mumbling his goodbyes before hanging up. “Hey, morons, I gotta go.”

“But we haven’t built my bed yet!” Basile sits up, looking genuinely disappointed. 

“Sleep on the floor.” Lucas smiles to soften his words, moving closer to clap their hands together. “Sorry guys, mama wants to hang out.” 

When Lucas gets to Yann, the other boy stands with him. “I’m going with Lucas, see you guys.”

“Oh okay.” Basile turns to Arthur then. “You’re staying right?” To which Arthur agrees only if they buy another box of pizza.

“You don’t have to,” Lucas says softly when they get to the door. 

“Nah, let’s go. I haven’t come with you to visit in a while.” Yann smiles down at him, giving him a gentle pat on the back. God, he loves this guy. 

One o’clock in the morning finds Lucas cramming for an essay he’s completely forgotten is due the next day. Well, today now actually. This is why he has a problem with professors assigning things months in advance— he puts it off so much so that the excessively early due date warning causes more harm than good. 

He’s right about to pull his hair out in frustration after writing and deleting and rewriting the same fucking paragraph for the fifth time when his phone, left open to review the notes Imane had sent him, brightens slightly to alert him with a message from Eliott. 

srodulv Can I ask you something?

Lucas briefly entertains the notion of telling him to go the fuck to sleep but that would be very hypocritical of him. 

lucallemant Yeah

srodulv I mean, you don’t have to answer If you don’t want to

lucallemant Okay What is it?

He turns away from his laptop, sliding off his desk chair and onto the floor. Eliott’s taking a while to answer, which allows Lucas’ bitch of a brain to formulate unpleasant thoughts as to where this conversation’s going. 

Too antsy now to stay on the floor, he drags himself up and towards the bed, wrapping himself completely in the blankets as he waits it out. By the time Eliott actually sends something, Lucas’s already shivering from the nerves. 

srodulv The guy you were with today The one you post about a lot Who is he?

Lucas exhales a huge breath. And then he reads the messages again.

Rereads them over and over.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself. “No,” he continues, letting out a loud laugh before slapping a hand over his mouth, conscious of Yann sleeping next door. 

Which. Yann. Is Eliott—

He throws his phone to the foot of the bed, needing to bury his entire self in the blankets to suppress a scream. Lucas allows himself a little flail. Just a tiny bit, the movement’s barely even visible. An arm shoots out from the blanket lump a minute later, feeling around for the discarded phone before his head pops back out as well. He must have taken too long answer because Eliott types up another message. 

srodulv You really don’t have to tell me, it’s fine

lucallemant Eliott  That’s my best friend 

He bites his bottom lip, adding a cheeky afterthought. 

lucallemant Don’t worry 

srodulv Ah, okay Now I won’t 

lucallemant You were worried?

srodulv Yes

Fuck, Lucas thinks, his heart’s going to burst out of his chest at this point.

lucallemant Stop that

srodulv What? Who gets a dog and goes on champagne dates with their best friend? 

lucallemant Lol Champagne is the dog That’s her name

srodulv OH

lucallemant Yup and we were with my mom and her friend too so

srodulv Oh

lucallemant You all good now?

srodulv :)

lucallemant Weirdo

srodulv This weirdo can’t wait til 13h  

lucallemant Haha go to sleep Eliott 

srodulv You too, Lucas Sweet dreams

Lucas flops down on the bed, face first. Feelings are so exhausting.

#skam france #elu #elu insta au #there's no painful clip to offset #but have some extra happiness either way #fictag

[wonderer-ru]

my soul remembers us

☾ Taehyung|reader story

↳ genre: fluff and soft angst ↳ word count: 14.004 ↳ warnings: none ↳ a/n: fun fact. i wanted to finish writing this by Taehyung’s birthday… last year. so this has been a long time coming. i love this story very much, this is my favorite concept and i hope you enjoy. please, let me know what you think. oh, and there’s a little easter egg for those who read “under the spell”. happy new year!

⍣…your generation cracked a shell of something that was beyond one’s comprehension for thousands of years. What was made to be a matter of belief, religion and mysticism, took a form of the undeniable truth. Reincarnation. Yes, in your time, reincarnation was a scientifically proven fact…⍣

moodboard

☾ reincarnation au; soulmate au

Each generation had something that they thought was impossible at the beginning of their reign, yet later it sneaked into reality with such smoothness, the discovery was welcomed almost too nonchalantly to be fair. Some thought video phones were out of a fairytale, but decades later they found themselves using those daily, without a second thought or the initial feeling of novelty. That’s how progress worked, you thought. The most farsighted people would just stop wondering and fantasizing, deciding to bring unimaginable things to their tangibility instead. Sometimes, it was scary how quickly those miracles became nothing more than mundane accessories in people’s routine lives.

You hoped it wouldn’t happen to this particular notion, because your generation cracked a shell of something that was beyond one’s comprehension for thousands of years. What was made to be a matter of belief, religion and mysticism, took a form of the undeniable truth. Reincarnation. Yes, in your time, reincarnation was a scientifically proven fact, that also helped in explaining several psychological phenomena; many of which were previously considered to be purely trauma-based. How could this become ordinary? Admittedly, the break through was still fresh in society’s minds, so you didn’t worry about its oblivion. Not yet.

Nowadays, the theurgic discovery nested right in the sweet spot: the government just started to provide financials for research, while keeping the scientific details away from the general public, therefore the concept was still too vague for the scammers to get their hands on it. Sure, mediums offered a look into previous lives long before that, but now they strived to cash on the boost that would inevitably occur, forging some science degrees along the way. The good old psychic shtick was in the past. Claiming you can talk to the dead in a dimly lit room wouldn’t roll anymore. No, people would ask you for your diploma now.

And while grifters tried to figure it out, clinics were built, special nursing courses  and programs were organized, and you were fortunate enough to get into one. Studying felt like constant research, as if you were a part of developing this new knowledge, and it felt invigorating. You were learning aspects of reincarnation right as they were uncovered, and isn’t it the best way to become a specialist on the subject? Every piece of information was cherished by everyone around you, so you couldn’t help but stock those close to your heart as well. It all became even more surreal, when you found out that your first internship would be spent under the mentoring hand of none other than the man himself. Dr. Kim Namjoon. A young genius, only a couple of years older than you, that shook the world with his findings and now, naturally, was leading as many research teams as he could handle. The rest still worked with his careful oversight. 

The growing amount of brand new possibilities and fields of research seemed overwhelming at times, yet there was one phenomenon that attracted the most attention. Confabulation. A disturbance of memory that used to be defined as the production of fabricated, distorted, or misinterpreted memories about oneself or the world, without the conscious intention to deceive. Now - dictionaries with this definition in them could be thrown away, because confabulation was currently known as “the glimpse into one’s past life”. Not really scientific yet, but, yes, those “fabricated” memories were proven to be very real memories that the soul experienced in one of its past incarnations. 

People’s confabulations ranged from subtle alterations to bizarre fabrications, and - what’s even more fascinating - those people were generally very confident about their recollections, despite contradictory evidence. That’s why the subjects didn’t bat an eye at the contact with something much more modern than their previous self would be used to. The lucky peculiarity made Dr. Kim’s research much easier and a lot less expensive. After all, it would be highly inconvenient, if the doctors had to build entire eras around their patients - probably separate hospitals for people from certain decades - just for the results to be somewhat valid. It was crucial to keep people of interest calm and undisturbed, so, fortunately, they didn’t freak out when their soul from the 1920’s suddenly woke up hundreds of years later. 

Surely, at some point, maybe half a century into the future, fruits of this work will become widely accessible - to wealthy people first, then to common folk - providing everyone with a peep into their distant adventures. Today, however, the thoughts of building any sort of business based on reincarnation were strictly put on hold, at least until Dr. Kim and his team figure out the safest way of putting a person into the state of paramnesia and, most importantly, bringing them out of it. The latter posed as a tougher task, because, at this stage of research, all existing records showed that patients could be stuck in ‘confabulation’ for, apparently, only God knows how long. From days to months, to even years. No trace of noticeable patterns or correlations. 

“We have a new patient today,” Dr. Kim stopped in front of another hospital room, and you almost bumped into him, a little too intently scrabbling away in your writing pad. Namjoon (not that you could call him by his name) always had five to seven interns following him during rounds, because “I don’t know if you’ve gathered enough information about me, but I only have two eyes and one brain. I’d rather have all that, but times five. Gross, I agree. Plus, the surgery would cost a fortune. So I dutifully ask of you, interns, the fresh blood of this place, to be my extra eyes, brains, hands. The hospital will provide you with pens and paper. Quantity of your notes could result in quality of our overall data”. Dr. Kim was well aware that he couldn’t catch every single detail by himself - especially since he was the one asking questions - so he took all the help possible, which spoke to his humble nature. The man just really wanted to move forward with his discovery. 

But, despite leading the most advanced scientific program in the world, he was quite old fashioned when it came to interacting with patients. Dr. Kim refused to install any hidden cameras in their rooms, because having interns by his side gave him several unique points of view on what his patients said and how they acted; which was priceless, unlike the equipment that would only lower his eyes sight in the end. Have you seen the quality of those videos? One-way mirrors were also unacceptable, as they would turn any conversation into interrogation, and the sheer vibe of the room could make patients feel uneasy. Not to mention the expenses that this kind of purchase would cause. Government could only help to a certain extent, and independent sponsors still found the research too risky and unreliable to invest into. 

“I was informed that this case is somewhat special. The patient correctly recalled his name, which could mean one of two things: he just, for some unknown reason, remembered his current name, or, he had the same exact name in his past life. That we won’t be able to determine with certainty until he snaps out of it, I guess.”

“Is it possible that he has kept more memories of his present life? Of course, but we’ll have to wait and see. So,” Dr. Kim took the chart from a wall pocket and looked over it. “Kim Taehyung. Twenty three years old. Male. Car accident. Has a couple of bruised ribs and, of course, a head injury. The decade his soul is currently in: 1960s,” as you might have noticed, Dr. Kim favored answering questions before they were asked, which honestly made things easier, since your preference consisted of staying quiet, observing and writing things down. “You will all be given additional files with more information about him, what his family and friends could provide. Take your notes carefully, so later you can potentially point out similarities between his past and current lifetimes.”

You nodded, along with four other interns, and followed Dr. Kim into the room, laying out some preparatory work on the blank piece of paper: his name, today’s date and the date his soul thinks it is. As you walked in and proceeded to take your usual spot in the corner of the room, your gaze brushed the patient’s figure on the bed, noticing a book in his hand. A book that, according to his perspective of time, would be written half a century later, so, basically, the man was reading a story form the future and didn’t even know it. You made a note of it, even though it wasn’t your main task. 

This late into the internship, you and your group-mates have made up a system where each intern had only a couple of aspects of the conversation to document. No one had to split their focus, and, at the end, you’d exchange notes to create the complete picture. Some had to pay close attention to patients’ nonverbal behavior, some listened to their voice and intonations. Your job was to write down the exact words that were said. That’s why you didn’t bother with getting a better place to stand, to look at the young man. Your ears would work perfectly fine from the corner. You were used to carrying this role by now, since it was pretty much the same group of interns every time, and everyone has settled into their groove. Although, maybe, you should’ve switched more often, because catching the words and writing them down became a chain of mindless, automatic operations. It didn’t matter what the conversation was about. You’d analyze everything later, when the puzzle is assembled. 

Dr. Kim went through his usual set of questions - nothing specific, yet; minimal usage of modern terminology; just general check up - but, a couple of minutes in, his voice acquired lightness that was slightly out of character, and you even heard Namjoon laugh. Huh. This guy must be very amusing. The thought left your mind as soon as it entered, and you continued to be oblivious to the patient’s velvety voice, or the way a wide boxy grin made his eyes disappear. Words, words, words. You were only concerned with words, not noticing that the room was already charmed and completely in love with Kim Taehyung. Maybe, you’ll feel the same, once you read back everything that’s been written in the past ten minutes.

However, your fluent handwriting suddenly falters when Dr. Kim is interrupted mid sentence. 

“Y/N?”

Your own name was left unfinished under the pen as your eyes widened in realization. The patient just called you, and, judging by the tone of his voice, he was pleasantly surprised. You looked up to find every gaze in the room turned in your direction. Taehyung was smiling, and, suddenly, you were very aware of him. Shouldn’t have ignored his presence before, because now it was a bit overwhelming. And there’s that flitting feeling... You’d call it a déjà vu, but it would contradict Dr. Kim’s newest theory. He thought that the concept of “déjà vu” was about alternative universes, not about past lives. According to him, déjà vu appears when you experience something that your alternative self lived through a bit earlier. As if they went through life a little faster, but in a moment of deja vu you catch up to them, hit the same point in time and space, then go your barely separate ways. Anyway...

You turned to Namjoon - who looked surprised, but also intrigued - hoping that your eyes screamed for help obviously enough. 

“I didn’t realize that they’ve brought me to your hospital,” the man seemed very excited by the encounter, so, at least, he liked you. But how the hell did he know you at all? You opened your mouth (that appeared to be rid of any moisture) to say something, but Namjoon stepped in; probably to prevent you from answering with anything that could confuse or disturb the patient. 

“Excuse me, Taehyung. Can I steal your...?” Dr. Kim paused, expecting for Taehyung to finish the sentence, and - oh boy - he did. 

“Fiancée,” the man replied happily, a somewhat prideful look adoring his features. Meanwhile, your ability to breathe was packing its bags, ready to travel. A soft gasp - that sounded a lot like ‘fiancée’ - escaped your lips, and you felt someone’s hand on your back, pushing you off the wall. When did you lean against it? Now that you decided to concentrate on it - your legs were obviously shaking. 

“Fiancée,” Dr. Kim repeated, physically pushing you out of the room, because your body didn’t seem to cooperate under the severe shock. You could vaguely - very, very... very vaguely - understand what all of it meant, but the right pieces just bounced off each other, not clicking yet. “Fascinating. We’ll be right back,” Namjoon ushered you out, hoping that Taehyung didn’t find your terrified state too suspicious. He couldn’t let this chance go to waste, because for Dr. Kim everything clicked the moment his patient called your name.

“Y/N, do you know him?” he had to make sure that in this life you were absolute strangers. Your lungs came from their brief vacation and worked with full force, as you frantically tried to remember seeing Kim Taehyung’s face before. No memory came up, and, sure, you could forget a face, but certainly not the fact that you were engaged to said face. So you shook your head, confidently enough for Dr. Kim to light up with delight and anticipation. A new discovery was on the way. 

“No, I’ve never seen him, and I am not his fiancée,” you denied the fact as if it was an outrageous accusation, when, in reality, everyone knew that the whole thing was just a trick, played on Taehyung by his own fogged mind. 

“That’s excellent!” Namjoon was practically jumping on the spot, while your confusion slowly wore off. Very slowly. 

“Excellent? Wha- why, why? Why would you-? I wouldn’t use that wo- ...Oh,” and then it hit you. “OH! It means that he knew me in his past life! Holy sh-“

“Yes, precisely! And it also means that you had the same name in your past life, which means that he probably did too!” Dr. Kim was hitting you with conclusions and calculations - rapid fire style - so your inner scientist was simply ecstatic, yet overwhelmed and a bit dizzy. “And it also means that you physically look the same as your previous self! This is unprecedented! You have to play along!” you were nodding along to everything Namjoon was saying. He was so enthusiastic and fired up, it was infectious. But wait-

“Wha- What?!” did you hear him right? “Play along as in... I have to pretend to be his fiancée?” Namjoon exhaled to calm himself down from excitement, before attempting to calm you down from panicking. His hands squeezed your shoulders, but Dr. Kim soon found that it wasn’t enough to ground you. “I have to do everything that it implies? I have to pretend... to be in love?” you whispered the word ‘love’ like it was something forbidden; like faking love is the most sinful and horrible crime to commit. 

“Y/N, my dear Y/N, please, hear me out,” Namjoon’s hands altered to cradle your face, and he looked into your eyes as if you were the only one who could help him, save him; like you were the only person that mattered right now, and if the context of his pleas was any less professional, you’d feel weak in the knees. It made sense, though. Dr. Kim was in love with scientific progress, and you were the embodiment of it in that fateful moment. “We can’t destroy his world right now, because we don’t know- ...we can’t predict what it could possibly do to his mind. It could result in a catastrophe. But, more than that, just- ...just imagine how much we can uncover. You already gave me a lot just by standing in the corner of that room. Do this too, please. It could change everything.”

“I... I am not a good actress. And I don’t know anything about him... about us in his... damn it! Our past life. What if he figures it out?” to be completely honest, you were convinced the moment Namjoon started speaking. You’ve never seen anyone so determined and committed. It truly was the work of his life. Right now, your frightened mind just scrambled for more reassurance that, you knew, he could give you. 

“It won’t matter to him. You know as well as I do that these patients don’t get suspicious about things ‘not adding up’. You just have to act like you know him and that, yes, you are a woman in love, about to marry the man of her dreams,” Dr. Kim was still pretty close, so you pealed his hands off your face, in case Taehyung came out of his room. He shouldn’t see you in a position that looks far from innocent. Was he a jealous type? Well, you were already in that mindset, might as well... Your head hit the wall with a quiet knock, and you closed your eyes, thinking things over one last time. 

“You don’t seem like the kind of student that would have a crush on their professor, so I won’t ask you to do this for me... unless,” he stretched out the sentence, narrowing eyes at you. Suspicion was real. “...you do have a... crush on me?” you snorted at that. His cluelessness was truly adorable. He obviously didn’t know or care about the proper navigation of someone’s romantic advances. And your reaction to it - as if it was such a ridiculous implication (after all, it wasn’t far fetched at all, because a lot of students did have a crush on him) - didn’t hurt the man, even though he said “ouch”. “Okay, then do it for science, Y/N, because I know you care.”

Dr. Kim lifted his hand, and you were split between rolling your eyes and squealing with joy. Here goes nothing.

“For science,” your fist bumped into his, and that sealed it. You were officially science bros with Kim Namjoon. 

...

“Were you really ready to use poor girl’s affection towards you? For your own benefit? Shame on you, Dr. Kim.”

“Uhh, not for my benefit? For science?”

...And you were officially engaged to Kim Taehyung. 

The hospital staff was immediately informed of your unusual situation, and not being the only one who had to “play along” felt somewhat relaxing. Moving forward, for Taehyung and everyone else (in Taehyung’s presence) you were just a nurse that worked exhausting shifts daily and fulfilled her duties by caring for all sorts of patients. Now you practically lived at the hospital, not only because nurses in the 60s did that, but because Dr. Kim advised you to spend as much time with your new-old fiancé as you could. 

You felt like a government spy, and Taehyung was your mission. In some ways, it was true. You were his lovely bride’s evil tween, and your task was to get close to him, because he held some important secrets. Dramatic, yet strangely accurate. His personal file - that also comprised everyone’s notes on the man - served as your desk book, and his parents’ narrative was your bedtime story. You were relieved to find that Taehyung was single, even though his current life didn’t mean a great deal at the moment. The fact that there wasn’t a romantic partner in sight eased your mind considerably. Directing “heart eyes” (even fake ones) at someone else’s lover would be guilt-inducing, surely. You just hoped that his family and friends were informed of his personal life as well as they thought. 

This noble scientific swindle was destined to start awkwardly, so you were having an out-of-body experience during every conversation with Taehyung. Lookers-on see most of the game, and you could imagine how easy it was to point out the stiffness of your posture or the rehearsed nature of your sentences. Your own tongue felt heavy and foreign as it moved in your mouth, and, at one point, Namjoon seriously considered paying for acting classes. He couldn’t have you compromising the “mission” by planting seeds of suspicion into Taehyung’s mind. Admittedly, it would be really hard - or even impossible - to do, but your behavior around the patient was just that unnatural and forced. 

By good fortune, Taehyung was completely oblivious to your struggles with communication, and, as irony would have it, played a crucial part in making the whole situation less tense. Of course, he did it without even realizing his own contributions to the success of Dr. Kim’s research. With time, you stopped dreading the interaction and your own heavy-handedness, because, when it came down to it, Taehyung was really easy and fun to be around. He had a gift of making people feel joyous, always ready to spark or endure some benignant foolishness. His ardour was infectious, and the man rarely failed in making you laugh. 

One month into the “relationship”, you could unhesitatingly confirm that Taehyung was a sweet and caring boyfriend. More than that, you were convinced that the mastermind behind the term “puppy love” was inspired by the look on Taehyung’s face whenever he zoned out, staring at his fiancée - in this case, you - and it had nothing to do with teenagers being in love. The man was quite affectionate (note: understatement of the millennium), and if, at first, his urge to be close to you was restrained by the injuries and prescribed bed rest, now - you could barely find an empty corner and write your daily report for Namjoon. You had to do it while Taehyung was asleep, which wasn’t particularly problematic, since the boy always nudged you to take a nap on his lap the next day, while he read on a bench in the garden. Taehyung tied your tiredness to night shifts, you imagined. 

Nonetheless, being his significant other was challenging in unexpected ways, so you still used Taehyung’s injuries as a protective barrier. The bruise on his bottom lip was pretty severe, so kisses were off the table, which saddened the man greatly. Plus, the complete healing was constantly postponed, because Taehyung would always cut the wound open by smiling widely at something cute you did. When an older nurse scolded the boy for making her tend to his poor lip again and again ( ...and again), Taehyung only shrugged and said that his fiancée was simply too adorable and he couldn’t help it. So. No kisses. Less smiling. Once, though, he turned his head at the right time - just as you leaned in to leave a peck on his cheek - resulting in your lips brushing the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, and it was the closest he got to lip locking with you. That little “accident” got the man so excited, he didn’t beg for kisses that week at all. 

It was much harder to deprive him of cuddles, though. Not because there were no excuses to avoid them. He had a couple of broken ribs, and it would be painful to even hug tightly. Pushing the man away, keeping him at the arm’s length turned out to be emotionally exhausting and heartbreaking, because Taehyung didn’t hesitate to regularly remind you of how much he loved all the snuggles and cuddles, and how desperately he missed feeling that sort of closeness with you. Every time you left his side, so he could rest, Taehyung pouted playfully, not willing to let go and fall asleep just yet. On more occasions than your heart would like to admit, you gave in - just a little, but it was a big victory for him - and kissed Taehyung’s forehead, not missing the way he sighed deeply and contentedly as your lips pressed to his skin. The boy’s eyes always appeared a little more dreary when you pulled away, and he never omitted a chance to hold onto your hand for a second longer, before giving you a tight smile and a quiet “goodnight, beautiful”. The image never failed to create a lump in your throat. He deserved much more affection in return, but the “you” that could give it to him was long gone. 

Your debt to him was becoming unmeasurable by the day, because, through Taehyung, you could also get a glimpse into your past life, without having to injure your head. It was a truly priceless gift, but its destiny was unknown and impossible to predict. Will Taehyung remember any of your time together after he “wakes up”? Will he remember all the love he spent? All the memories of you he shared? There was no way to tell with certainty. Most patients didn’t recall their “confabulation period” at all. They were left with completely blank pages, and no stories to fill those with. Being in a coma would probably be more entertaining and colorful. Yet, some lucky people remembered parts of different lengths. An even smaller percentage of patients - remembered everything.

You didn’t know for which outcome to hope, but you’d be okay with anything as long as Taehyung didn’t feel sad or hurt, or the wrong kind of foolish for giving away so much of himself; all to someone who failed to appreciate that fraction of time with him for what it was: a beautiful and unselfish gift of love. Sometimes you thought that it was your only chance to be loved like that... in this life.

“The 60s you” was obviously a nurse, but you kept discovering new details about her with every visit to Taehyung’s memory bank. He loved reminiscing about the most trivial things, and even the first time he saw you brush your teeth in the morning was special. That’s when Taehyung knew that you felt like home to him. Well, good for you and your notes to Dr. Kim, who was quite pleased with how detailed your reports were. He did point out that the way you wrote about Taehyung felt more... inspired - less formal and more poetic - though, it didn’t come as a surprise to you, because, with time, you became significantly more fascinated with your-past-self’s future husband... if that makes sense. 

Kim Taehyung was a pilot, which slightly correlated with his current occupation: aeronautical engineer; although, it didn’t cover solely planes in your time. He seemed to really love the sky, and it reflected in his poetry preferences. Taehyung read and recited poems about the skies the most, be it the blue and fresh early morning or the mysterious starry night that rhymed within their lines. The “hopeless romantic” side of him was utterly endearing, which is why you struggled to hide your shock when his other passion was revealed. Your-60s-self was probably aware of it, so you couldn’t really react when Taehyung confessed that he missed street fighting almost as much as flying. It was hard to imagine Taehyung expressing any sort of aggression, but that particular hobby of his just proved that everyone needed an outlet. The darkness had to go somewhere, and the man not only let it out away from you or the job, but also got some trophies (or prize money) for it. 

Later you found out that Taehyung was into a more... civil form of competing. Yes, it was still violent, but somewhat organized and restricted by a set of rules, which made the whole thing less gruesome in your mind. Taehyung was also strangely amazed at how ironic the cause of his injuries was: with duties and interests as dangerous as flying a plane and street fighting, he managed to be knocked out by a plain car crash. He talked about all of it with such ease that the very thing that should’ve pushed you away, made you distant, brought you a new appreciation for the love you once had for each other. Taehyung trusted you enough to let in on that secret, and you loved him enough to except that dangerous hobby of his. You must’ve been sure that he was worth it. 

Yet, while you cherished the love itself, your young heart still couldn’t grasp what your old soul already knew, already lived. Multiple times, it could be. What could create a bond so strong, so powerful that it surfaced through Taehyung several lifetimes later? You couldn’t find the answer with the way you’ve been approaching the mystery so far. Your mind was so completely focused on the words that came out of Taehyung’s mouth, you failed to look past them. Subliminal messages got lost between the lines, because the information for research was your priority. And, even though Dr. Kim praised your reports, there were things about Taehyung that skipped your attention. Some of them were gearing up to hit you in the face pretty soon.

It was a very busy day at the hospital. Several new patients arrived, all with signs of confabulation, but their physical injuries had to be treated first, which made all the real nurses occupied and unavailable to do Taehyung’s scheduled re-bandaging. You’ve seen it done enough times on different patients to know the drill, so you didn’t think twice before agreeing to perform the procedure on your fiancé. Come to think of it, you were never present when his bandages were changed. Every time you went to remind him or ask, he’d already done it. 

“Y/N?! What- What are you doing here?” Taehyung stuttered, wide-eyed, as you burst into his room with fresh bandages and other necessary supplies in hands. The man looked panicked, but you decided to write it off as the initial surprise. 

“I will be changing your bandages today,” you practically sang and turned to the table for preparations, missing the way your uncharacteristically cheerful mood went completely unnoticed by Taehyung... ironically. On any other day he would eagerly channel, harbor and try his gosh-darn best to increase that rare excited lilt in your voice. He’d strive to make it last as long as possible... Not today, though. 

“Are- Are you sure no one else can do it?” the man kept stumbling over his words, voice sounding painfully small, but it still wasn’t enough for you to get suspicious. 

“Why? Don’t you trust me? I’m hurt,” you feigned offense, playful to a fault, but the tease went right over Taehyung’s head, who appeared oblivious and rushed to assure you that-

“No, no. Of course, I trust you...,” the sentence faded away as if he mumbled it under his breath, to himself, and the words felt so heavy with worry and nervousness that your movements faded as well, brows furrowing in confusion. You slowly turned to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since stepping into the room. The man before you clearly couldn’t decide what to do with his body, constantly shifting on the bed, not knowing where to place his hands or how to successfully escape your gaze... or his own skin, it seemed. Eventually, Taehyung crossed his arms, protectively hugging himself. You’ve never seen him so tense. 

“Tae? Are you sure you’re alright? I’ve seen you shirtless... right?” you chuckled humorlessly, not even buying that that could be the reason for his behavior. Or could it? Why was he acting like this? Was your marriage arranged? Did you agree not to have sex before the wedding? It seemed- felt unlikely, but, before you could spiral into a full on panic mode, he answered...

“Yeah! ... Yeah, let’s just- let’s just do it,” he swallowed, reaching for the hem of his shirt with trembling fingers. You didn’t realize you held your breath until it whooshed out, all at once, at the sight of his bare torso. 

In that moment, certain, relatively ordinary for a hospital patient phrases came rushing back to you. “I miss fighting, but with the way my body aches, it feels like I still do it every day”, Taehyung would joke, and your psychoanalytic brain would only highlight the ‘i miss fighting’ part of it, because that gave you new (and quite shocking) information. Now, though, you cursed at your own ability to pay attention to all the wrong details, because it should’ve been obvious. He was in pain. 

You stepped closer, taking in all the bruises that covered his upper body. If they were fading now, what was it like before? The mere thought of it and the flashing images made you lightheaded, though they weren’t the main reason why your knees hit the floor in front of him.

“Taehyung-,“ you gasped, reaching out to touch his stomach gently. The man hissed at the sting, but you didn’t move your hand away, only willed it to be even gentler. His presence was a miracle in more ways than one now, because he shouldn’t have survived a crash that left him in so many shades of purple. Not only his soul was a traveler, but his body seemed to have gone through so much as well. 

“I didn’t want you to see this,” the man sighed and shook his head in defeat, not looking up to meet your eyes that, he imagined, were wide with horror. They were. 

You blinked away the tears, stood up and quickly moved to get the bandages. Suddenly, you wished they were made from the softest material imaginable. They weren’t, but it just meant that you and your hands had to be as careful as ever. Butterfly wings had to have nothing on your fingers. Without realizing it, you promised yourself that he wouldn’t feel a thing as you worked. 

Unfortunately, like most things, it was easier said than done, and, even though, you stepped in Taehyung’s direction with determination to soothe his aching body, your lack of experience with “real” nursing tasks was bound to ruin the plan. You weren’t sure what kind of pressure to apply or what was the best way to wrap bandages around his torso, which, combined with the overall painful nature of the procedure, only interrupted the quietness of the room with Taehyung’s grunts and hisses, always followed by his strained “it’s okay, keep going”. Your hands froze every time he made a distressed sound, but, when a number of them crossed what seemed like a hundred, you only wished to finish faster. 

The less bandages there were left - the more concentrated you became, finally finding your groove. Later, it would feel like an out of body experience. Like you’ve done this before, or, rather, your soul did, and it took the reigns in that moment, not asking for permission. You moved around Taehyung with much more swiftness, getting lost in your own repetitive movements. One roll of stretchy fabric later, you were ready to tie the final knot over his right shoulder. Taehyung moaned in pain, again, when you applied more pressure to make the knot tighter, and the next words escaped your mouth before you could think about it.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s almost done,” your soul seemed to take over you completely. The phrase slipped out so naturally, you appeared right where he was - in your shared past life. Taehyung turned to look at you; so fast, you thought you heard his neck crack. And you realized why the man was stunned, yet, strangely, you didn’t feel the urge to be surprised about it as well. This moment felt too right to ruin it with stuttering excuses. 

“What?” you asked innocently, referring to his wide eyes and the fact that his mouth was hanging open. The boy blinked a couple of times, still unmoving, but when you shrugged and moved again to check if the bandages were wrapped around him comfortably, Taehyung snapped out of it. 

“You didn’t call me that- baby in awhile,” he paused, looking down at his lap. “I missed it,” Taehyung wished you didn’t say it now; not when he felt so undeserving of it. From where you were standing, though, he deserved to be called the sweetest of names all year long.

You circled the bed to stand in front of him. When Taehyung didn’t look up, guilt radiating off of him, your fingers reached for his chin to gently brush and tilt it up. Your eyes locked with his, and you felt your soul flutter... No. You felt your soul shudder as it desperately gulped for air after being suffocated under miles and miles of water for the longest time. You guessed, it was because you looked at him with a clear, unselfish purpose for the very first time. 

“Don’t hide things like that from me again,” you said - quietly, yet firmly - right before your throat started to tighten with emotions under the intensity of his gaze. He looked back earnestly, like he couldn’t believe the sight. He couldn’t believe that he got to see you like that: brave and terrified, determined and vulnerable. So beautiful. Still, he didn’t deserve it. But he would take in every detail, until his own eyes would start to water, matching yours. After all, he was just as terrified and just as brave as you were. Just as beautiful. 

The air was charged with rawest intimacy, yet, it felt empty. Not void of emotion or meaning, no. Quite the opposite. It simply felt freeing. Like you could spread your arms and spin, and you wouldn’t bump into a bed, a table, chairs. Your wild limbs wouldn’t touch a thing. You didn’t dare move and explore this vacuum, though, because, when it came down to it, you’d much rather spend every moment of that freedom next to him. You were zoned in on each other. Cocooned in this blissful nothingness that was supposed to make you shiver, make your skin crawl, and still, you felt warm... like your souls were hugging. 

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough, and soon Taehyung’s hands were on your waist, guiding you closer. Your shaky knees nearly buckled, when the man buried his face in your stomach, wrapping the whole length of his arms around you and holding you tightly. A bated gasp escaped your lungs, but even your heartbeat slowed down and got quiet as soon as you realized that Taehyung was mumbling something into the material of your white coat. You could tell by the waves of warm air spreading against your belly and his lips moving to let it out. It tickled a little, but you managed to make out a couple of phrases. “I’m sorry” and “I won’t”. 

In that moment, you felt beyond any time any place. It was scary and felt so immeasurably bigger than both of you. Did Taehyung sense it as well? Did his soul? Your fingers reached for his hair, running through it, and you felt an exhale against your core - trembling with relief - like he was going crazy without your touch, and now was on the verge of insanity, because he finally felt it. You smiled, letting the tears fall freely on top of his head. Your mind wasn’t quite set on why you felt like crying for hours. Were you just deprived of such pure human contact for so long, or was your soul crying in a mix of pain and happiness at having him so close again?

“You worry about me so much as it is. I didn’t want to add to it,” Taehyung pulled away a little, his chin still attached to you, and looked up. He seemed miserable and exhausted, making you wonder if he felt this way too often lately and was just really good at hiding it. But then, from a different perspective, he looked at ease and, somehow, younger. His eyes appeared less clouded, almost crystalline, and, for what it’s worth, you were happy that Taehyung didn’t have to mask his feelings anymore. Not from you. For as long as this incarnation of him would stay here. 

“You are a miracle,” you whispered as your fingers left his hair, sliding down to cradle his face instead. This phrase belonged to multiple versions of you - to “the scientists” you, to “the 60s nurse” you, to “the fiancée” you - but, ultimately, it belonged to your soul. Taehyung’s eyes widened for a split second, giving away his surprise at your words, but then a brilliant smile spread across the man’s features. He smiled like he realized something you didn’t, you couldn’t, because he was in this relationship with you for much longer, so he studied you that much closer. Now, it seemed ridiculous that you ever felt more aware of things than him, when you only knew one thing - his condition - and Taehyung has lived years by your side.

“I missed you calling me that too,” he said teasingly and placed a quick kiss to the inner side of your wrist. You said that to him before? Wow, you really did, didn’t you? Of course. “Although, it would usually be ‘you are my miracle’, but we’ll get there again.”

Again. So he noticed the change, the setback. He felt the distance you’ve put between them. Taehyung might have been oblivious to the fact that the books he read were from another century, but he was attuned to you and your moods this whole time. Did your behavior confuse him? How did he explain it to himself? Did he suspect that something wasn’t right? Just like that, the research was on your mind again... 

And, just like that, you also realized that that research wouldn’t be your priority anymore when it came to Taehyung. Taehyung himself would become your main focus. Not only his words would concern you, not only the information he gives you to fill out reports, but his feelings, his well-being, his heart. 

You promised yourself to keep Taehyung’s heart safe, dreading the fact that he was probably right. You will get there. One day, you will want to call him yours, and that will become your downfall. 

After what could only be described as a life changing experience you felt the shift. You felt your soul move for Taehyung whenever he was near. It arched stubbornly towards his soul, kicking and screaming, like it wanted to hug its newfound lover again. You felt your heart beat faster every time he smiled at you. This relationship danced on the verge of being too real for comfort and was destined to end in a catastrophe, given the speed at which your affection for Taehyung was growing. Hell, sometimes you had to physically pinch yourself to keep from daydreaming about your shared past life. You found yourself wondering, quite frequently, if those versions of the two of you really loved each other till their dying days. Or did they divorce years later? No, that didn’t feel right. Could you Google that?

It didn’t help that Taehyung felt the shift as well. He started to initiate more physical contact without fearing your rejection, and you didn’t have it in you to push him away anymore. So you just held you breath every time his hand casually slid down your back and stayed on the small of it, all while he quietly watched you fill out fake reports at the nursing station. Eventually, seeing your frustration with the task, he’d start to rub your lower back in soothing circles, which made you relax almost instantly. It’s like he knew exactly what you needed... He knew you.

Sometimes (and it started to happen more often as the time went on), you forgot to separate your past and present lives from each other, eagerly listening to Taehyung’s stories like they were all a part your grand character ark. You saw yourself as the manifestation of all the previous incarnations, finding that you always agreed with your own views on life and love, and the world... however different those worlds may have been. 

You grew more curious with each passing day, gradually becoming fascinated not only with Taehyung, but with his version of you. You liked her. She seemed wiser then than you were now, and you wondered which path she took to become that at this age. She was impressive. A lifetime ago “you” had enough courage to change your career’s direction halfway through college, from journalism to medicine, realizing you wanted to take care of people the way you helped Taehyung through some rough fighting aftermaths. You still loved to do research and write, and the boy confessed that watching you mull over the right order of words was very calming.

At least, “the current you” was wise enough to bite her tongue and not ask Taehyung and excessive amount of questions... most of the time. Yes, he wouldn’t bet an eye and just rationalize your curiosity, coming up with an explanation on his own (you had a feeling that he often settled on “a semi-subtle check-up of his memory for a medical record”), but Namjoon gave you specific instructions that you had to follow... or try to follow. It was hard when Taehyung lit up like a Christmas tree every time you answered “fine” to his question of “how are you today, beautiful?” That’s an odd reaction, right? So you had to ask. As it turned out, a couple of years ago you and Taehyung came to a conclusion that being “fine” is way better than being “great! excellent! happy!” Why? Because every time you feel happy, inevitably, you also feel that ounce of fear that that feeling will soon end. 

“I am always a little scared when I’m with you, though,” he confessed, and you felt your heart skip a bit. That goddamn charmer! What was even more infuriating is his complete obliviousness to the fact that one of the most romantic and smooth lines just came out of his mouth. Taehyung simply kept watching you with a gentle smile on his lips, absolutely loving the way you didn’t seem to know what to do with yourself. You kept avoiding his gaze, looking everywhere, but mostly at your lap. You were blushing furiously, all the way to the tips of your ears. And you were smiling so wide, you had to bite down on your lip to suppress it. Your painfully endearing shyness seemed to have awakened a strange sense of déjà vu within him, and you heard Taehyung hum softly beside you.

“What?” you asked, finally being able to look at him directly. 

“I don’t know,” the man shrugged, reaching out to play with your hair. “Somehow, it just felt like when we first started dating.” 

A sudden gust of nostalgia for something you’ve never known, never experienced hit you in the chest, quickly spreading to engulf your whole body and making you gasp in surprise. Anemoia’s the word, right? Dr. Kim was writing a paper on it at the moment. You could definitely help him with some interesting insight now, because your entire being was lovingly placed into another time and space. Almost the way a song that played at your prom takes you back to the night, so your body is momentarily tricked into believing that you are actually there. 

Only it wasn’t a song this time, it was a person. It was Taehyung that lead you to that feeling and made it last for more than a split second. You could taste the difference on the tip of your tongue as if the air around you really shifted into something tangible and full of memories. And you remembered how it felt to simply exist back then. How it felt to be you, living in your skin in another time... And it was your second or third date, yet you could still feel the butterflies just looking at him. Faint jazz music suddenly reached your ears, and you wanted to hum a tune that you’ve never heard before. 

Was it where Taehyung’s mind went? Did you feel the right things? You couldn’t possibly be sure, but nostalgia was never this striking or lasted that long. 

“You fully intend to keep making me fall for you, don’t you?” Taehyung whispered mindlessly, as if to himself, but the implication left you more breathless then seemed possible. There was a negative amount of air in your lungs now. “Over and over again,” he was closer somehow, fingers brushing your neck without a specific intention. He was just submitting to the pull he always felt near you. The one that makes you move and touch, and watch intently. It’s when you register every drop of her eyelashes, yet you don’t seem to notice yourself leaning in. The movement is barely there, but oh wow, it’s impactful. “I have to say, I don’t mind one bit.” 

You feel his words on your lips now. They are full of breath that you lack, and it would be almost too delicious to make him share it. You had the chance to be selfish in the most acceptable and pleasant way. But... You simply wouldn’t come back from it. You would be going for seconds every chance you got. But... 

You make him fall deeper in love? This you? This present-time-you? The thought was dangerous with how flattering it was, making your heart stutter. Taehyung’s eyes were already closed and he was angling his head slightly, looking like the angel he is. Gentle, even if a little impatient. Meanwhile, you felt like a mess. Overwhelmed and very conflicted. You swallowed and shut your eyes tightly, already scowling at what you were about to do. And when did your breath come back, making your chest heave this heavily? 

“Tae?” 

“Yes?” he sounded so shaken by mere anticipation, you had to keep yourself from whining and giving in. It was just cruel how undeniable his need for you was. 

“I need to go back to work,” the broken exhale that he let out was bound to haunt your dreams. You didn’t look back as you walked away.

You couldn’t figure him out. You couldn’t “predict” him. It seemed like he instinctively dodged every romantic comedy cliche. There were countless melodramatic tropes paved for him, but he always chose to swerve and draw his own patterns. You imagined, he was always the kid that, on his way home from school, would be tempted to mark the perfect white canvas of fresh snow with his footprints - and would do it too, eventually, dragging his feet through the deep drifts - while everyone else just followed the padded path. 

Taehyung didn’t seem upset or hurt. He didn’t question your escape nor did he try to make you feel guilty about it. As if the boy refused to see that hurried exit of yours as the door being shut in his face, and, instead, saw it as your trauma of almost loosing him melting away a little more. To Taehyung, your soul needed just a little more convincing before letting him in again and trusting that nothing will happen that could put his life at risk. Not if he could help it. 

Apparently, the key point of his strategy was to remind you of how good and fun you were together, often acting like teenagers in love with total disregard for whether the time and place were appropriate. Yet, your displays of affection never crossed the line into something provocative or deprecated. True to his pure and innocent nature, Taehyung’s “moves” always looked playful and, dare you say, cute in everyone’s eyes, with your overflowing fondness towards each other making people around you go “aww”. 

And the boy would definitely be lying if he said that your flustered appearance and blushing cheeks didn’t make it that much more fun for him. 

“You should be more careful next time, Mrs. Lee,” since you were helping with Taehyung’s bandages more often and leveled up your nursing skills training on him, it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to look after other patients as well. 

“I know, dear. I guess the kettle was just too heavy for me,” the old woman sighed as you wrapped her burnt wrist carefully. Mrs. Lee was a sweet lady - always put together and endlessly welcoming - but a bit too clumsy for her own good. It was her third minor injury this week. Previously, she managed to hit her toe against the bed frame and get a pretty nasty paper cut on her thumb. Ouch. Her soul thought it was 1920s, so maybe people were more careless about their health back then. 

“There you are!” Taehyung’s booming voice entered the room before the man himself burst inside, and you didn’t miss the way Mrs. Lee’s eyes lit up. She adored him. Everyone did. “Good morning, Mrs. Lee! New day - new adventure, I see. I’m glad you keep my fiancée on her toes,” Tae winked, and you heard the woman actually giggle. The power he possessed was truly boundless.

“I do what I can,” Mrs. Lee was full on beaming now - bright and happy - the pain in her wrist seemingly forgotten. You smiled to yourself too, finishing up the procedure. 

“Mornin’, beautiful,” Taehyung lowered his voice, and it took less than a second for you to start blushing. Blood rushed to your face somewhere between his breath hitting your ear and his lips briefly pressing to your temple. You were used to a lot of “Taehyung things” by this point (barely): holding Taehyung’s hand, brushing Taehyung’s hair while he slept, Taehyung’s fingers dancing across your back while you worked. Always teasing. Sometimes tickling. Like right now. Up and down. Up and down. Down. Down, down. Wait, what?

“Taehyung!” you gasped. He pinched you! He pinched your butt! 

Your hand flew to cup the “violated area” (on pure reflex) as you turned, wide-eyed, to Taehyung, who was clearly trying his best to stifle the fit of giggles. He had the audacity to look surprised by your animated reaction, like it wasn’t his intention all along. Oh, he was so amused! The boy quickly hid his hands behind his back as if trying to dispose of the evidence, but you were already on a mission to give him a piece of your mind. 

“Out!” you grabbed Taehyung’s arm and proceeded to drag him out of the room, unwilling to scold the men in front of another patient. 

“Mrs. Lee, save me!” he pleaded, not really trying to put up a fight, even though he definitely could. 

“You are on your own, young man,” the older lady just laughed and, rather entertained, waved the two of you a goodbye.

“What the hell, Taehyung?” you whisper-screamed as soon as the door closed behind him. Your “disapproving wife” mode was all the way on, and you didn’t even know it was a part of your settings in the first place. Taehyung took in your crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows, feeling strangely endeared. Let’s keep it going for a bit, he thought. “That was really inappropriate!” 

“Well, if you didn’t scream like that, she wouldn’t even notice. So, objectively, this is your fault,” he argued, mimicking your irritated posture.

“Objective- !? Don’t do this around other patients!” you hissed back, now vaguely aware of the fact that Taehyung was probably messing with you. 

“Does it mean I can do it when we are alone?” the boy not-at-all-subtly wiggled  his (gorgeous) eyebrows and stepped closer, placing his hands on your waist. 

“Well, not anytime soon. You’ve ruined it for yourself,” you were still frowning - in a desperate attempt to appear mad - but your lips were starting to angle up in a smile, treacherously so. 

“You are mean,” he pouted. Well, that’s not fair. 

“And you are childish.”

“You like it though,” somewhere, in the back of your mind, you were painfully aware of how it all looked. Your palms rested peacefully on his chest, and you smiled at each other without saying a word, yet understanding everything. ‘I do like it. I can’t help it.’ You were in love. Really, really, really in love. “And you are right. It was inappropriate. I’m sorry. I just wanted to tease you and took it too far. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” you sighed and leaned forward, so his lips effortlessly pressed to your forehead. You were so screwed. 

After escaping Taehyung’s warm embrace (quite reluctantly), you snuck back into the room. The door clicked upon closing, and you were met Mrs. Lee’s knowing smile. 

“Is Taehyung in trouble?” she asked, but, if your own tender smile was any indication, he very obviously wasn’t. You still shook your head ‘no’ and averted your eyes, suddenly shy. The woman laughed quietly at your timidity, while you busied yourself with her wrist. Taehyung’s little “tease” interrupted your work in quite a dramatic way, so you weren’t even sure if the task was completed properly. “Be glad he’s still playful. That boy has eyes only for you. I can tell.”

If you were blushing before, now your face caught on fire. It was one thing to experience Taehyung’s absolute devotion yourself, but to have it pointed out by someone else was another feeling entirely. Once again, you couldn’t help but think that your past-life-self got really lucky with him. Oh.

“How did he propose?” the question halted your movements for a split second. Oh. How did he propose? That’s right. You didn’t know. Because it wasn’t to you. The blush on your cheeks fainted, and you suddenly felt cold. It was so easy to smile just a second ago, but now you had to put in a tremendous effort in order to appear unaffected. Though, if you listened closely, you could still feel your soul sighing in content from having Taehyung so near and so warm, and not so long ago. A bittersweet feeling, but it helped. 

“It’s almost time for your check up with Dr. Kim. How about we save that story for later?”

Mrs. Lee nodded, a little upset, and you couldn’t blame her. You’d love to hear all about it yourself. It would hurt even more, sure, but if you were to bet your life on anything, you’d bet it on Taehyung organizing the most wonderful and romantic proposal in the history of mankind. You didn’t dare coming up with something of your own right now, because it simply wouldn’t compare. 

Millions of thoughts and questions flooded your mind even before you left Mrs. Lee’s room. It wasn’t really you Taehyung was in love with. Of course, it wasn’t. It was another girl that shared your soul and looked like you. But then... Were you essentially your soul? Did it matter what life made of the rest of you? Was Taehyung in love with your soul exclusively? He said it himself. He was falling deeper in love with you. 

Taehyung’s beloved soul was your soul. It was just a lifetime older than he thought. 

“Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and, after looking around for a second, you numbly discovered that your feet didn’t carry the rest of your body too far away from the door. “You okay?” 

You nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. The man was probably on his way to Mrs. Lee, so you had to pull yourself together as to not hold him up. 

“Could you, please, stop by my office later? I’d like to talk to you.”

“Sure,” you managed a verbal response this time. Short and sweet. Nice job all around, but it still earned you a concerned look from Namjoon. He regarded you for another moment, then nodded, disappearing behind the door a second later. 

You probably should’ve blinked at least once.

It turned out that Dr. Kim unintentionally witnessed the quiet and sweet moment you shared with Taehyung outside Mrs. Lee’s room. The hospital hall could be considered a public place, so the display of affection wasn’t meant to be hidden, yet, Namjoon felt as if he was prying on an intimate exchange. That foreign feeling made him stop and pay attention to something besides science (though, implicitly, the issue at hand was related to it), which said a lot. He was notoriously unaware of... He was notoriously unaware. Period. 

That, combined with faint mental notes he made while reading your reports, pushed Dr. Kim to invite you to his office for a private conversation. The way your descriptions of Taehyung’s past and present increased in poetic value as the time went on never really bothered Namjoon, because he could always work around that and still get a lot of valuable information. Plus, your expressiveness made it into a good read. 

Your every word became more vibrant and meaningful after he saw the way you looked at your fiancé. You were a terrible actress, and no one knew it better than Kim Namjoon. The man wasn’t being overly dramatic when he confessed to having nightmares in which your acting was so bad that it made Taehyung “snap out of it” and leave. Namjoon bet a lot on you. 

It was supposed to be a game of pretend, and he had to make sure it was still the case for you. Was Dr. Kim doing it for science? The man wasn’t sure himself. His research could still become groundbreaking, whether your heart ended up broken or not, but Namjoon just couldn’t stay unaware this time around. So now you were passing from wall to wall in his office, trying not to panic. Trying and failing. 

"How much longer will I have to play along? He wants... to do stuff, you know? I am his fiancée,” Namjoon glanced up from his papers, slight alarm in his gaze, so you hurried to clarify. “No, he doesn’t say or do anything. I just feel it.”

"Just tell him he's too weak for that," Dr. Kim shrugged, but then paused for a moment. It’s been a little less than three months. Taehyung was almost completely healthy. “Wait, actually, just tell him that it's against hospital policy. Or both.”

"That's what I tell him, but he's just so damn eager and responsive to everything I do! Not in a gross way, but still! What if he never comes back from it? What if I-,” fall in love before he wakes up? You didn’t finish the thought out loud, but your breathing was rushed and uneven, so he knew. He’s observant at the very least, but it’s more than that. You both knew. Namjoon was surprised at himself, and you were surprised to see his eyes so full of untapped emotion. He looked a little sad, but mostly worried. Maybe a tad bit apologetic. You hoped you imagined a drop of regret in the mix, because that’s what you didn’t feel, despite hurting. 

"Do you like him?" 

I’m in love with him.

"I do,” you said, defeated, yet, somehow, relieved by acceptance and the openness. For a split second you got scared that Namjoon would pull the plug on the research. “But let me do this. I will never hold it against you.”

The man appeared conflicted, but not nearly enough to drop all the progress you’ve made. To put the work of his life on hold. And you wouldn’t let Namjoon do it, even if he was ready to quit for your sake. You were his partner in crime, just as involved, and your “timeless lover” didn’t make you forget that. At least your heart would be broken for science.

"His feelings for you are not real. Not in this life. Please, remember that and be careful, Y/N".

Yeah. It was a little too late for that.

Maybe you overestimated your own determination to finish the research, or maybe it was harder not to pretend and be in love, with clear mind and a heavy heart. Maybe it was harder to accelerate, knowing that you were gonna crash. That, eventually, Taehyung would come to his senses and leave to live his life. 

Truth be told, you hoped it would happen sooner than later. Preferably before you married him, had kids and grew old together. Imagine trying to explain to someone where their whole life went and why another version of them got to live two.

To say that you were torn would be an understatement. Oh, how you wanted to just give in and love him, and be loved! It was agonizing, ironically so, because you couldn’t help but see it as the foreshadowing of the day that his love would be taken away from you, whether you decided to let yourself have it or not.

Your scale was looking more and more like the game of seesaw, refusing to balance, constantly tipping one way or the other. You went from being playful and engaged (no pun intended) to appearing cold and distant to everyone around you, not only Tae. The uncertainty was exhausting, to the point where you missed the days of just being awkward and nervous around “Taehyung the Patient”. Back when your love for him was only a memory that your mind would never be able recall, because, up until this point, it only echoed in the depths of your old soul.

There was no end to this back and forth, it seemed. But when, one day, you saw the way your internal turmoil affected the one you cherished the most, it became exceptionally easy to make a choice.

“Tae, I am leaving for the day,” you cracked open the door to his room and quickly scanned the space to make sure he was there. The lights were off, but as soon as your eyes got used to it, you found Taehyung standing by the window. It wasn’t an unusual sight, since he loved to admire the night sky every chance he got. The moon was full and visible for the first time in weeks, so, of course, the man was there to appreciate it in all its glory.

“See you tomorrow?”

On nights like this you always tried to say goodbye and make your exit swiftly, leaving Taehyung to have his moment of peace, but this time the boy’s profile didn’t seem serene to you. There was no dreamy smile playing on his lips. His eyes weren’t traveling from star to star, looking for constellations. Instead, his lips were stretched thin and pale, and probably bitten in worry. You could see that he was frowning, but the blank look in his eyes was the most concerning.

“Tae?” when he didn’t answer again, you stepped further into the room. The door creaked unpleasantly, pulling Taehyung from his thoughts. At the sight of you something in him moved, but stayed still. It felt like his soul immediately reached out for yours, and, for the first time, he didn’t let its urges guide him. The realization terrified you. He was uncertain. You hated it.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Are you leaving?” Taehyung asked. He understood that you had to go home sometime, yet, it didn’t make him miss your presence less. The boy never wanted you to leave, and it was always obvious. Except now. Taehyung wasn’t sure if he wanted you to stay, because he wasn’t sure if you’d rather go. He hated it.

“Um, yeah. I was about to head out,” your thumb pointed towards the exit, but you proceeded to move forward and soon stopped, facing Taehyung by the window. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t-“

“Tae,” you cut in, suddenly desperate to resolve whatever was troubling him. “You can tell me,” when your fingers moved across the windowsill to touch his, Taehyung held his breath, because you never really initiated physical contact before. Not like this. Your touch was always meant to comfort or calm him. You never did it, because you yourself craved the closeness. “Please, tell me.”

“It’s you,” Taehyung breathed, and your fingers froze millimeters away from his. It broke the boy’s heart a little, but he couldn’t keep his own muddle to himself anymore. Because you did initiate touches before. You were utterly selfish and demanding when it came to keeping him close, and it was so very charming, he couldn’t stand being away. Taehyung felt needed. Sadly, that car crash seemed to have broken something between you. And it split his life in two.

“I don’t recognize you,” for a moment you thought that his old memories were leaving him, confabulation gradually wearing off, but no. The memories of two lives weighed him down, conflicting and contradicting each other. It pained you to see him so lost.

“And I don’t feel like you recognize me, either. Most of the time you look at me like I am a stranger,” Taehyung’s voice started wavering, confused and sorrowful, as if the boy never imagined that he would be saying this to you. Your fingers moved again, completely on their own, to touch him. To comfort him. “At first I thought that, maybe, you were just in shock after the accident. Maybe, you thought you were going to lose me. And I get it, I do. I can see that you still love me,” oh, thank God, he saw it. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself, if he lost his faith in your love - the only thing he wholeheartedly connected to in this world, in this time. “But it’s been months of up and downs, and I don’t understand, and- it’s just starting to hurt.“

Taehyung gasped a couple of seconds before your lips met his, because it was only the third of the things you did. First, you intertwined your fingers and tugged him closer. Second, your right hand flew up to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him down. Third. The moment fell into complete stillness as you stayed there, unmoving, with your lips pressed together way too tightly. If he was going to feel your kiss for the first time in months, you were going to make it count. You wanted it to leave a mark on his heart, deep enough to reach his soul.

And maybe that kiss felt like trying too hard at first - because, admittedly, you were a little desperate to heal his doubtful mind - but it all clicked into place, when his fingertips reached to touch the side of your face. Still unsure and nervous, but slowly starting to believe that it was really happening. In that moment, you heard your soul whisper something not so secret: it, and you, already knew how to kiss him right. You knew how to kiss Taehyung to make him smile. You knew how to kiss him to drive him crazy with want. You knew. So you pulled back to lessen the pressure, letting your lips move smoothly and tenderly against his. You knew how to kiss Taehyung to make him feel loved.

"Do I kiss the same?” you asked, breathless, hoping against all hope that you really did kiss his lips right now just as you kissed him a lifetime ago. The man swallowed shakily, nodding his head. Taehyung didn’t move away, not even a little, as if he simply missed the feeling of your breath on his skin. To him, there was something so singular and intimate about the face-to-face, skin-to-skin closeness and sharing the same air, that you never even had the “big spoon/little spoon discussion”. The pair of you always fell asleep and woke up facing each other, morning breath be damned.

“Yes. Yes, you do,” his hands cupped your face - understandably urgent, but still so very gentle - and he dove right back into the kiss. You had no choice but to keep up, because Taehyung seemed determined to have all the wasted time made up for. It wasn’t long before he lost himself in you: hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs; deep little sighs and sweet noises against your lips. The way Taehyung moved became almost chaotic as he tried to find some balance between holding you close and not breaking his ribs all over again.

While Taehyung was quick to melt into the kiss, you took your time, letting the inevitable impact build and build under your skin - with every slide of his lips, with every touch of his fingers - to, eventually, hit you all at once like a tidal wave. Taehyung wasn’t exploring you like this for the first time, (even though, judging by how eager he was, you wouldn’t be able to tell), but to you, in this body at least, it was the first. And, oh, what an absolutely maddening ride. To top it all off, you forgot to take into consideration that, as well as you knew how to make his body tick, Taehyung was just as knowledgeable about your weaknesses. Within minutes, naturally, he managed to make you mewl and pant, and tremble against him.

“Tae,” your attempt to pull away failed, so his name got muffled by his own mouth. You smiled at his unwillingness to stop kissing, but tried again, pushing lightly at his chest. Nightshift nurses took their duty seriously. “Tae, we should stop.”

The man made a faint noise of disapproval at the loss of contact, but nodded and gave you some space. It felt as if your lips would never stop buzzing.

“Sorry, it’s just,” he paused, catching his breath, and no one could understand him better than you. That was intense. “It’s been so long.”

Taehyung’s hold on your waist tightened, and you could feel those words coming. The anticipation in your chest was tangible, yet you’ve never felt more content.

“I love you.”

…

“I love you, too.”

Looking back, yes, it should have been an awkward interaction for you. By all accounts. Faking affection towards someone you barely knew, just to get data. Ridiculous. But… If someone asked you about it right now, you’d say that pretending to be in love with him was the easiest thing you ever had to do.

So you let yourself love Taehyung for another day. For another week. Trusted him with your heart completely, without caution or doubt. Became adorably clingy, just the way he remembered you. Whatever common sense that was left in your system was used to dodge the wedding plans discussions, and it was easier, too, because you could just kiss the boy into silence, and he would never complain about that or suspect anything. Taehyung just figured, you missed him just as much as he missed you. But, oh, how you wanted to indulge in those discussions sometimes. 

Namjoon still tried his best to forewarn and protect you, but, at the same time, he understood that it wasn’t his choice to make anymore or his place to judge your decision. All he could do was go through your daily reports and gather all information possible. No one could halt the research, simply because it became more than just a research to you. Namjoon did hope, though, that it would come to an end before the point where your heartbreak overshadowed the triumph of science.

And it did. 

“I will love you forever,” he said the night before, as a goodbye you both thought would only last till morning. You smiled, letting him kiss your forehead, and replied: “You better.”

Your coat wasn’t even off yet, when you spotted Namjoon coming out of Taehyung’s room. He was smiling to himself as he closed the door, and then his eyes found yours. Slowly, you moved towards him, even though Namjoon didn’t call. Not with words or gestures at least. The man’s smile turned into something undefinable, an anxious mix of dread and hopefulness. You finally stopped in front of him, eyes pleading. 

“He’s back,” Namjoon said, clearly, but why did it also sound like “He’s gone” to you? That must have been the somber undertones in his voice. 

“Oh,” you exhaled, fumbling with buttons on your jacket. Okay. It’s alright. You knew this was coming.

“He wants to talk to you,” the man continued, and, before you could panic, his hand landed on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You are going to be fine.”

Namjoon looked deep into your wide, petrified eyes and smiled again, a lot warmer this time. His other hand lifted fluidly, and you followed its direction to breathe in... and breathe out. 

“Y/N,” Namjoon called, finally getting your gaze to focus on him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Your eyes suddenly watered, and you couldn’t help but smile at the man. He was your clarity and reason in all this madness. 

“No problem, Dr. Kim,” you raised your fist for him to bump, making the lovely dimples appear on his cheeks. “For science,” Namjoon laughed at that, and quickly bumped your awaiting fist, before wrapping you in a tight hug.

“For science.”

-

“Hey,” the door creaked right as you said that, making your whole body wince. Great start. It’s wasn’t a loud hey in the first place, so you prepared to say it again, oblivious to the fact that Taehyung’s attention was already on you. 

“Hey,” he echoed, straightening up a little. No longer oblivious, you let yourself look at him. He was sitting on the bed with a book in his hands, and you noted that it was opened on one of the later pages. He didn’t start from the beginning, but continued reading it. “Please, come in.”

The boy crossed his legs, making more room for you on the bed, but you moved to stand at the foot of it. He didn’t question your choice of position, wisely deciding to give you some much needed space. In that moment, it suddenly hit you that only yesterday you could come in and practically jump into his arms, starting Taehyung’s morning with a kiss. It wasn’t the case anymore. 

A moment of awkward silence stretched through the air, but, eventually, you gathered enough courage to speak first. 

“Do you remember-"

"I remember everything," Taehyung deadpanned, and you nodded, swallowing some of the nerves. Namjoon suspected he would. This was no ordinary case. “And I am glad I do.”

The addition made you look up from the floor. Taking a chance to study Taehyung closer, you didn’t expect to find the look in his eyes so... sympathetic. And curious. And anticipating. 

“Oh, God, Tae,” sudden embarrassment washed over you, and your hands came up to cover your flushed face. “I am so sorry. I feel so terrible-“

“What? Why are you apologizing?” Taehyung was taken aback, seemingly surprised by the outburst of guilt. Trying to explain your embarrassment was, somehow, even more embarrassing. 

“You weren’t in your right mind, and I sort of took advantage of that,” truth be told, you never saw it that way before. Not until you met the real Taehyung. “With all the kisses and touches. I should’ve stopped it. It’s your body, and I had no right-“ 

“No, no, no. I get it,” as if pulled by some force, the boy shuffled across the bed on his knees, eventually stopping in front of you. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, gently moving your hands away from your face. “You had to keep the story going for me. Dr. Kim explained everything.”

‘Right. Keeping the story going. That’s all it was,’ you thought ruefully, but said:

“Thank you for understanding,” it was easy to smile at Taehyung, even now, so you did. The boy smiled back, releasing your wrists, and, strangely, you didn’t feel like keeping distance between you anymore. “I feel a little less perverted.”

“Good. You should,” Taehyung nodded, looking proud of the fact that he didn’t let you think badly of yourself. “So,” the man shrugged innocently, letting his hands fall to rest of his thighs. “You said you sort of took advantage...,” Taehyung’s eyes glimmered mischievously, and you noticed his fingers tapping a playful rhythm on his lap. Wait... “Does it mean that you liked it? If it was to your advantage...”

Was he teasing you right now?

“Oh, wow. That was so bad,” you burst out laughing, which felt kind of anticlimactic, but so so needed. That’s Taehyung for you. The boy laughed along, showing off that infectious boxy smile of his. “How about I leave now, for awhile, and you come up with something better, okay?”

“Wait, wait,” Tae reached for your hand again, when you made a move towards the door. Both of you knew that you weren’t really leaving. “Do you want to get a cup of coffee? With me? Or tea? You like tea, right?” it’s like the boy wanted to prove that he remembered these things about you. It was sweet. 

“Tae, are you sure? I mean, it wasn’t really you who liked me-“

“I said I remember everything, and I really like what I remember. About you. About us. I mean, if anything, the question is did you like the-past-life me, because, let me tell you, he’s not that different from the guy standing right here.”

“Well, obviously. The soul is the same.”

“See? Something tells me you weren’t faking it, not all the time. Not when it mattered,” his words carried certain weight, like he not only remembered, but, miraculously, experienced everything that happened. “So, did you like him?” Yes. Easy. “Do you like me?” Ooh, a little tougher. He did look exactly the same. (Duh.) Yet, there was something that made him feel more aware, more awake. More... here.

“If you remember everything, like you said, then you should know the answer to the first question.” I loved him.

“I do,” Taehyung said, turning completely serious for a moment, and you were thankful that he didn’t take your feelings lightly. “That’s why I-,” the boy cut himself short and bashfully shook his head. Cute. “Sorry, nevermind. It’s cheesy and a little too far.”

“No, tell me,” you tugged at his hand, consequently realizing that it was still holding yours. The comfortable nature of it didn’t surprise you. “I’ll be the judge.”

"I think he left something with me, and,” Taehyung’s free hand landed on his chest, near his heart, emphasizing where the change happened. “Who knows, maybe we will prove that eternal soulmates exist too," the boy was beaming, so proud of his charming line, and you didn’t make him wait too long for a reaction. Your cheeks got much warmer, and you lowered your gaze, trying to hide a shy smile that threatened to hurt your jaw with how wide it was. 

“You were right. It is cheesy. But, maybe, not too far fetched.”

You cried yourself to sleep that night, realizing that, in some strange and gut wrenching way, you lost someone you loved. Forever. That bright and ridiculously romantic Taehyung from 1960s was gone. But you smiled before finally dozing off, thinking that you gained someone who could make you heart flutter just the same. Perhaps, equally bright and romantic. You just needed to give it a little time. 

You fell in love with Taehyung once. You could do it again. Namjoon still had to prove it, but his soul belonged with yours, and...

He promised to love you forever, after all. 

["thank you for stopping me, when i- uh, when i wanted to take things a little too far."

"um, yeah, no problem. though, i must admit, it wasn't too easy." 

"how so? was i- was i pushing you too much?"

"no! no. it's just that- sometimes, you and... what you did... made me forget about, well, everything."

"oh? ... OH! i see..."]

a/n: thanks for reading! i really hope you enjoyed! for more of my stories go for masterlist here and here. feedback, as always, is needed and will be very much appreciated.

if you like my stories, you can support me here: buy me a coffee ✨☕️

Copyright © 2019 by wonderer-ru. All rights reserved. 

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