#usually after he gets over the No Thoughts Head Empty phase he just gets. unnecessarily grouchy. moreso than he usually is. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

firebendersimp · 3 years

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baby

summary: maybe bakugou katsuki doesn’t hate all the stupid pet names you call him as much as he says he does and maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as he pretends to.

warnings: female reader, swearing, jealousy, shoto todoroki slander (by bakugou), bakugou being a dumbass, mention of ‘dynam*ght’, aizawa exists.

word count: 2k

a/n: i fully blame @astroninaaa for this, i was just minding my business not simping for someone named dynamight and then she bullied me into watching bnha and now there’s a 2k fic. but go follow her writing blog @patchofsunlight.

There was a reason why Katsuki Bakugou didn’t remember the names of the students in his class and it wasn’t because they were just useless extras like he claimed. He was afraid, afraid of making connections with these people, afraid of having to depend on them. But if his classmates scared him, then he was terrified of you. He had tried to treat you like he treated the rest of them, tried to forget your name like it meant nothing to him but it was like someone had engraved it into the back of his mind. He was always thinking about you, he noticed your absence when you were late. At first he’d assumed it was part of your quirk that you were like Shinsou and you had brainwashed him into having feelings for you- not that he had feelings for you- that was an absurd notion and he was probably just sick or something. Or at least that’s what he told himself and just as he’d managed to convince himself that he had just caught some weird virus, you had looked at him with that stupidly pretty smile and asked, “Is something wrong, Bakugou baby?” And he faltered, it was like his brain just shut down. After that you were relentless, constantly calling him increasingly stupid pet names like, “pretty boy”, “babe”, “my love”, “honey” and then there was your favourite, “baby”.

You slid into the seat next to him, your head resting on his shoulder as you shuffled closer, looking at the notepad in front of him. “Are these your ideas for pro hero names?” He grunted in what you assumed was a yes but it was hard to tell. You leaned closer, pointing out a particular name, sitting up slightly, your lips against his ear and your hand just above his knee, “Just so you know babe, dynamight sounds stupid but you could be dynamine.” You were so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he processed what you had just said. You pulled away before he started screaming, a laugh escaping your lips. You didn’t notice how he didn’t yell or tell you to shut up or how he was looking at you like you were something worth looking at like he was entranced by you. Of course he didn’t say that, just shook his head mumbling something about your terrible sense of humour.

You may not have noticed the difference in him, but Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Sero had taken notice of how he no longer complained about the pet names he claimed to hate, or how his voice softened ever so slightly whenever your name escaped his lips, or the way the corners of his lips curled into an unconscious smile whenever you were in his line of sight. They never comment on it, out of concern that he’d withdraw back into himself if they pointed it out to him and they weren’t entirely sure what was going on with him but it seemed like it was good for him, like you were good for him. But they could see that it was like you were stuck in this weird phase with him where you both had obvious feelings but neither of you wanted to be the one to make the next step and it seemed like nothing was going to happen....unless they took matters into their own hands and so a plan was formed.

As soon as class ended on Friday morning, Mina marched over to your desk with a dangerous look in her eyes as she seized your hands with her own, “Sooooo y/n, what are you doing this weekend?” She was staring at something behind you as she spoke but you decided to ignore it as you told her that you didn’t have any plans. Her eyes lit up and she squeezed your hands, “Can I set you on a blind date? Just say yes and I’ll owe you one.”

“Okay I guess?” She beamed and darted off to chatter excitedly with Kaminari. There was a crashing noise as Bakugou stormed out the classroom, slamming the door behind him and it was only then that you remembered that he sat in the desk behind you, she had been staring at him while she was talking to you.

As the weekend drew closer you were plagued by the same thoughts, swirling through your mind, nerves about this blind date, wondering why Bakugou seemed angrier than usual, and wondering why Mina wanted you to go on this date, did she like Bakugou? Was she trying to get you out of the way? Not that you were in the way, you and Baku were just friends, right? But now you were questioning it, you found yourself wondering if it was normal for the sound of a friend’s voice to constantly linger in the back of your mind or if it was normal to keep catching yourself staring at a ‘friend’.

You got to the café an hour early and as you were waiting for the other person to show up, your mind started to wonder. Maybe- maybe this person you were waiting for, maybe it was Bakugou. Maybe he had the same confusing feelings that you had been experiencing for the past year. As the hour dragged by, you were certain that he was about to step through the door any second now and then the door finally swung open and your heart dropped as you made eye contact with the mismatched eyes staring back at you. Todoroki slowly made his way over to you and you scrambled through your mind for something to say to him, something that wasn’t, “Why are you here?” He slid into the chair opposite you, the chair that had been praying would be occupied by someone else but you offered him a small smile as you attempted to suppress the disappointed feeling in your chest. “Hello Y/n.” He smiled and you felt the guilt creep in, “Hi Todoroki.”

His face scrunched up momentarily before the smile reappeared, “Call me Shouto, please.” His hand reached across the table, his fingers interlocking with yours as he spoke. And the guilty feeling became stronger, guilt from being disappointed after all, there was no denying that Shouto was beautiful with a voice you could listen to for hours and a guilt you couldn’t really name, you just knew that this feeling had Bakugou’s face attached to it.

So wrapped up in whatever Shouto was talking about you didn’t notice the table where Sero, Denki, Kirishima, and Bakugou were sitting just out of sight after being dragged there by Mina who was chattering excitedly about ‘how well it seemed to be going’ to a bored looking Sero. All while Bakugou was quietly seething as he watched that ‘half and half bastard’ holding your hand and leaning in unnecessarily close as he talked to you about something stupid. He didn’t notice how the conversation around him died down as his friends shared a knowing look.

Shouto walked you back to your dorm, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as he told you some story. The date had been perfect, everything went right and Shouto was so nice and sweet but there was nothing there. The only thing this date really achieved was that there was no longer any doubt that you did have feelings for Bakugou and he could never know. It would be disastrous if he ever found out.

He knew. Somehow he either found out or just figured out that you had feelings for him, he must have, why else would he be avoiding you? But you’d been wrong before like when you were certain that he liked you back so maybe there was another way to find out why he was avoiding you. You waited until class was over and everyone had left and then you cornered Kirishima in the empty hallway, asking, “Why is Bakugou avoiding me?”

His eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder to check no one else was there before he answered, “He’s not avoiding you and even if he was, how should I know?”

“You’re his best friend, you’re the only one he tells anything to.”

He scoffed, “Best friend? I doubt he even knows my name.” But there was something in his eyes, he knew more than he was letting on.

So you tried again, “Does he kn- think that I have feelings for him?”

“You have feelings for-”

“I said ‘does he think I do’, of course I don’t have fucking feelings for him.” You spat, your voice a little harsher than necessary but you reasoned that it didn’t matter. And perhaps you’d be right if Bakugou wasn’t waiting around the corner, listening in on your conversation.

Talking to Kirishima didn’t clear anything up, in fact it might have made things worse, Bakugou had started avoiding you even more, the only time you saw him was during class and then he’d refuse to look at you and just act like he couldn’t hear you if you tried to talk to him. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Aizawa had decided to make him your partner for a very important project, sometimes you wondered if he took some sort of sadistic pleasure out of partnering students that hated each other for important things. Not that you hated Bakugou, but you were pretty sure that he hated you now as you sat with him in his dorm as he stared at everything but you. You stared at your hands as you finally broke the silence, “You know you can’t ignore me forever.” He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes burning into you, “Look you can go right back to pretending I don’t exist after this but I’d rather not fail this project just cause you hate me or whatever.”

“Like you want to be doing this with me.” He finally spoke and your eyes darted up to meet his gaze.

“What are you talking about?”

He scoffed, staring back up at the ceiling, “I’m sure you’d rather be doing this with your stupid fucking boyfriend.”

You shifted closer to him and his eyes flickered down to study your face, “Are you talking about Shoto?”

His face contorted in disgust, “You call him by his first name?”

“He asked me to.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fucking bastard gets everything he wants, does he?” His voice was venomous but then his voice dropped to a whisper as he stared at his hands, “You’ve never called me by my first name.”

“I thought you hated me, why do you care?”

He let out a humourless laugh, turning to look at you, “Don’t you get it? I never hated you, I love you. But I know you don’t feel the same way.” You frowned and he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I heard you talking with Kirishima, it’s fine, I get it, I’m kind of a dick all the time.”

You stared at your hands as you shifted closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his, “I was lying to Kirishima when I said that I didn’t have feelings for you. I was afraid he’d tell you. I love you too, even if you are a dumbass.”

He bumped his shoulder against yours, “Don’t call me stupid, stupid.” His hand came up to your face, slowly tilting your chin up, his eyes searching yours as if he was scared that you would take it all back at any second but he was taking too long so you leaned closer, pressing your lips against his.

He pulled away, an unconscious smile slowly creeping across his face, “Say it again. Tell me you love me again.”

“I love you Bakugou Katsuki and I’ll say it as many times as you need me to.” The smile on his face widened and his arms slipped around your body, tugging you closer to him.

He watched you smiling while you talked to him with his face cupped in your hands and he finally felt like he must be doing something right if he’d managed to make someone as wonderful as you fall in love with him.

tagging: @loversamongus

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imaginewarehouse · 3 years

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Various Males x Fem!ExModel!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: You, a retired model get hired at Cloud 9 and, not-at-all-surprisingly, you get harassed by every allegeable (According to them) bachelor in the place- but god fucking damnit! You’re just here to get a paycheck??!

“You can’t knock ‘em out, you cant walk away,

Try desperately to think about the politest way to say,

“Just get out of my face,”, “Just leave me alone,”

“And no you cant have my number,”,

“Why?”

“Cuz I lost my phone.”

(Inspired by Lily Allen’s Knock ‘Em Out)

Includes (In order of appearance after the introduction bit): Sal Kazlauskas, Garret McNeil, Tate Staskiewicz, Isaac (And I think my favouritism here definitely bleeds through*Cough*), Elias Greene, Cory, Jonah Simms, and Marcus White.

Warnings: Sal, harassment (They leave after you say no though. Just to be sure)

🔆 🔆 🔆

“And uh, yeah one last thing before we all hop off to work! We have a new Cloud 9 family member. Y/N! Would you like to stand up?” Glenn, the lovely man who took your interview a week ago and then went out of his way today to look for you out front in the morning to show you around quickly and guide you through clocking in, finds you in the crowd of workers and gestures for you to stand.

Oh, uh- uhh, okay! Up we get, then, you think as you stand up like he said and take a look around at all the judging eyes, which normally wouldn’t phase you but here is a lot scarier than what you’re used to. This an entirely different environment to getting up at a modelling gig- you know nothing about working this kind of job! You’ve never done it, so, you’re afraid they’ll judge you right off the bat and make it difficult for you to ask questions. And you can’t keep bothering Glenn- he has more important things to do.

Oh god, you hear whispering. You peer around. Where is that coming from?-

“This is Y/N L/N! She’ll be working with Go back’s today,” Right, Go Back’s Easy enough; Glenn explained them earlier before the meeting started. “So if you see her in your area- be sure to say hello and see if she needs some help, K? Good. We’re jazzed to have you with us Y/N.”

“Thank you!” You quip quickly, then sit down and focus on Glenn again, hoping dearly at the same time that attention disperses from you immediately.

Glenn smiles, glancing down at his clipboard for any last-minute messages. “Okay! I think that’s it, so- “

The whispering from before suddenly cuts off. “Uh yeah, question?” Glenn stops short when a man in the back kind of rudely cuts him off, but sighs out a ‘Yes, Marcus?’ as the woman beside him - Dina, - rolls her eyes severely. Oh, you let a tiny ghost of a smirk slip over your lips. That’s kind of a reaction, isn’t it? “Yo- new girl.” What- me- w h y- You immediately get awkward again and twist around in your chair, but don’t really know who to look at. Luckily the tall brunette in the warehouse uniform is pointing, so you figure it out pretty quick that that’s who you’re looking for, and calm down. Mostly.

Yeah? You raise one eyebrow. “Hi?”

He grins back to the right and the left of him, to his equally pleased buddies and pals, before raising a Vogue magazine- and it’s the issue on which you scored the front page. Jeez, that was months ago! “Is this you?”

A chorus of ‘Ohhhhh’ and general excitement travels around the room and for the first time ever, you’re half ashamed to admit that yes that is you. In your usual circle this is something to be proud of… but you get that it isn’t really like that, in non-modelling circles. In fact, it could be something to be embarrassed about.

Especially seeing that oh dude and his gang of Michael Myers fashion wannabes look like a hungry, dim-witted, wolves rather than plainly interested about your modelling career.

But, still, you smile politely and nod. Hopefully it’ll be forgotten before the afternoon, at least. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Nice.”

Hmm… you really, really hope that it’s forgotten soon, at least, as you turn back around to face the front again as Glenn sends everyone off to work. Because if not, then these boys are going to learn the hard way that models take self-defence classes religiously.

Or at least you are going to have a very uncomfortable day, which is just great. You groan inwardly at the thought, as you gather up your coffee from the table beside you and drop it in the trash can on the way out.

You’re just doing your own thing and someone

Comes out of the blue,

They’re like,

“Alright”

But he’s saying

“Yeah can I take your digits?”

And you’re like, “No, not in a million years, you’re nasty.

Please leave me alone.”

There’s already so many Go Back’s! You think excitedly, as you get to work looking for where things should be. You’re glad to have something to do- at your first job with Chuck E Cheese, before you got into the modelling thing, you were basically useless the first day because you weren’t allowed to grill yet, you didn’t know how to assemble, and they didn’t want you out on the floor for the birthday party that was happening, in fear that you would mess up royally. So you just sat around trying not bother anyone, and that felt terrible. So, wandering the aisles of Cloud 9 with a full shopping trolley searching for products and neatening things up? Sounds like a good deal to you. Yes please.

“Uhh, hi.”

You practically jump entirely out of your skin, hearing the voice right beside you and whip your head around to see a balding guy in a blue Cloud 9 jacket. Is this man licking his fingers!?

“Uh,” You step back with your brightest, most polite smile, picking something up from the Go Back’s cart and rounding it to put it between you and the man, before acting like you’re stupid enough to be putting barbecue sauce in the Barbie section, and then… “Oh, oops! Silly me!” You flash the guy a nervous look. “I’m still working things out… “

Well? Better to look like an absolute idiot, then be standing within grabbing radius of the creepy man licking his fingers that you’re all alone in the middle of an empty aisle with. “Um… so, what’s up? Did someone send you to find me, or… am I doing something wrong? You know better than me, after all!”

“No… “His gaze licks up your form and if it weren’t for all your ‘training’ in staying still and not feeling this kind of thing- you absolutely would have wigged out. “You’re doing fine… Just wanted to see you.”

Boy- if anyone else could see your face right at this moment, full of disgust and mild horror, you’re sure you would be YouTubes next hit. Or a meme. “Oh… “You nervously chuckle. “Um, well, I’m gonna… go… “You pull the trolley around so that you can back up out the back of the aisle and escape through stuffed toys, into the open but his hand comes down on the other end of the trolley- stopping it. Before you can stop yourself, verbal diarrhoea spews from your lips. “Glenn has my resume- there’s a photo on there you can have.”

“That’s okay I prefer them to be breathing.” Both his hands are on the end of your trolley now, tight so his knuckles turn white, and he’s breathing unnecessarily heavy. He’s even leaning over the trolley some like his body really can’t handle whatever terrible heat is plaguing it right now. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god… this is so gross.

“Well, that’s… u-understandable...”

He looks up into your eyes, now, and doesn’t blink. Who the hell is this guy?! “Say… “ Oh no, oh no- he’s coming around the trolley-he’s coming around-he’s close-too close-too close-mayday-MAYDAY- Slowly, in your face, he licks up his thumb, makes an ‘Mm,’ sound, and you deeply wince; So much so in fact that one of your eyes completely closes. “Could I take your phone number?”

You absolutely couldn’t have helped what happened next if you had wanted to.

“Eeeeuuuwwwwwwww no not in a million years, your nasty, please leave me alone!!” You exclaim in a high voice before abandoning the trolley and rushing off to customer service.

“No you cant have my number,”

“Why?”

“Cuz I lost my phone.”

By the time you got to the front desk, you had basically calmed down and were mostly just stressed that you left the Go Back’s behind- but still must look troubled as the guy manning the front desk makes a confused, half-concerned but mostly intrigued kind of face at you as you stop there. You’re about to explain your appearance - that or just shrug, not too bothered about reporting whatever mess that was. Not on your first day, at least. No way. - when his face relaxes, and he nods. “Ohhh. Damn, Sal got to you?”

Sal? Was that the guy’s name? You didn’t check. “Oh, was that his name? I was a bit too preoccupied by his eyeballs sucking out my soul, to notice his name tag.” Now that you’re thinking about it, though, you glance at this man’s name tag. Garret.

“Yep, that’s Sal. That’s just one of the wonderful things involved in working here that you’ll just have to get used to.” Garret grins, offering you a chill perspective with a side of cynicism. You sigh, truly feeling relieved that you’ve found a normal person and relax your back against the taller part of the desk.

“Brilliant.” The sarcasm drips off the tip of your tongue.

“You’ll have to deal with a lotta that here, though, looking like you do.” You turn your head to the side to look already exhausted just by the idea, at him. He shrugs. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just speak the truth.”

“God- I feel sorry for the other women working here.”

“Oh, no. They’re in a completely different wheelhouse to you. Sorry.” Garret leans on his forearms on the desk, and you roll over to lean on your shoulder and pay attention. “See, you’re a model- “

“I was a model,”

“You were a model- which through primitive male thought process makes you prime real estate. Whoever manages to ‘bag’ you, for lack of a better word I apologise, gets some serious bragging rights.” He shrugs, and looks vaguely apologetic but still some how shameless as this utter bullshit slips out of his mouth. “We can’t help it- some of us don’t even know we’re doing that, but we are. Actually, I’m probably the only one who’ll admit it… which… kinda makes me your best option. Self-awareness, and all that.”

Oh. A dry laugh comes out of you as you feel a text come through in your back pocket and pull out your phone. As you see that its not an urgent message, you immediately put the phone back and glance around for any supervisors before returning to your conversation with Garret. “Oh- of course it does.”

“Exactly!” He grins, and you can’t tell through his expression at all whether he’s genuinely this clueless or if he’s just shooting his shot. “So- “

“No, you can’t have my number.”

“Why?”

Deadass, in a very monotone voice, you say: “I lost my phone.”

Then the two of you just have a stare off for a minute. Garret because he just saw you use your phone, and you because you wont back down.

“Oh yeah, actually yeah I’m, I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby in like 6 months, so no. Yeah, yeah… “

“You know,” The chemist pipes up from behind the Pharmacy desk as you put back some pill boxes he said were fine to return to the shelves, and you glance over at him to show you’re listening, and check his name tag. “I myself considered a career in modelling, before this. People even say, now, that I could model.”

Oh boy. You think, fighting not roll your eyes. And how old are you? Early 30’s? I don’t think so buddy.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t recommend it.” You flash him a nervous grin before returning to your shelving. “You’re good for, like, 3 years. But then you hit 22 and unless you look like Victoria Justice shared with you whatever youth fountain she got chucked into, then you have to find something else to do with your life- despite having nothing to fall back on.” Okay… so… I might be a bit bitter.

Tate chuckles - and oh boy, he sounds just like your old manager. Totally fake, -, hiding his hands in his lab coat pockets. “Yeah, you’re probably right… Besides, I got the better end of the deal, anyway. Doctor for the doctors, they call us.” They call Pharmacists that? Who? That’s news to you. “Ahhh, yeah… I’m doing pretty well for myself.”

“Yep.” Forcing a fake smile his way, you leave the shelf you were stocking and get closer to the desk to stock another, as Tate’s eyes follow you waiting for encouragement of some kind. Doesn’t he have a job to do?? “You chose well!”

“Yeah, thanks. I know.” Ffffff-f a r out. This guy! “You know, you and me, we’d make a good couple.”

Oh? Dear god? You pause your shelving in surprise at the bomb this man has just dropped so casually, fish oil tablets paused on their journey to the shelf mid-air. Could Garret’s crazy-pants theory have been right?

“Ohh,” You giggle nervously, returning to work a bit faster now. “I don’t know. I think for a pharmacist like you, I would envision, like… “An actual doctor? No, I can’t say that. “A personal trainer, or something. Keep you both healthy all-round, you know? Now that’s a power team.” As long as that personal trainer has humility enough for the both of them, at least.

“Mergh,” He makes a face, like ‘What the heck are you talking about??’, before shaking his head of the things you just said and leaning over the desk towards you. You keep packing, even faster now. Like the Flash. Go! Go! Go! Death Con 5!! “So, whadaya say? I could pick you up Friday after work, and we could head up to one of my timeshares?” He says that like it’s such a selling point! You think, fighting off the powerful urge to laugh but still feeling the panic deep in the pits of your soul. “Stake it out together for the weekend? Get to know each other?”

“Uhh… “Excuses! What are they? You slowly stop stocking, turning around to face him and crossing your arms. The man deserves to at least be faced as he’s rejected; You’re kind enough to give him that, at least. “I’d love to! But, the thing is… “Chewing your bottom lip, you think hard.

Ding Ding Ding!!

“The thing is, Tate… “You fake some nerves, now. “I’m actually, uh… “You look up, face relaxing. “Pregnant.”

Oh boy, the way that man recoils at that word, like a terrified, disgruntled, blonde hedgehog. You’re going to laugh so hard about it, later!! “Oh.”

“Yeah! Oh, I mean, yeah… I’m gonna be having a baby, in like, 6 months so… yeah… Yep.“ You shrug to him, as if its just so unfortunate. “Shame.”

She looks in her bag, takes out a fag, tries to get away from the guy on a blag,

Can’t find a light.

‘’Here, use mine.’’

‘’See the thing is I just don’t have the time.’’

Ahh, lunch. Now you can check your texts! Hmm, you look through your notifications and gradually lose excitement. Mum… mum… mum… phone bill company… friend… mum again…

Ah, the glamorous life of the famous.

You roll your eyes, and get to responding to your mothers texts about dinner and when you’ll be home and how your first day is going, not noticing the not-so-jolly, not-so-green-(unless-you-meant-pot) giant approaching you. When you finally finish responding to both your mum and your friend, you put your phone away and start unwrapping your lunch- a typical ham sandwich that you’re actually pretty excited about. That’s one good thing about your sudden drop in financial status; You can put in your damn sandwich as many pieces of ham and cheese as you like. Grinning excitedly, you pick it up and have it halfway to your mouth before another person - a very heavy, large person, - drops down beside you on the bench you’ve commandeered behind the store. You close your mouth without any delicious lunch inside it and look up, politely to the person who’s joined you.

And all you can think, is wow.

He could put you in a suitcase and walk off with you right now and have no problems.

That’s wow.

“Hi! I’m Y/N,” You introduce yourself, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I know.” Oh, well yeah okay that’s understandable. Glenn did introduce you to everyone this morning. Despite the man’s less-then-excited response, he takes your hand in his and shakes. It makes you all giddy inside, honestly. So b i g. “Names Isaac.”

Do you remember Isaac in the breakroom this morning? You wrack your brain for him, because surely if he was there you noticed him-

Oh. Yep, you remember him. He was one of that Marcus-Dude’s pals chuckling and whispering behind him. He was one of the men that had the magazine with you on the front, and if there’s one thing you know about men who carry Vogue in their locker’s it’s that they fit into only 2 groups- interested in fashion, obviously… and interested in the women. And this man clearly is not interested in fashion. Immediately, on this realisation, you feel disappointed- you really could have liked this man right off the bat…

But it looks like he’s just going to be another of the men at this store you have to get to know, before becoming friendly with.

“So,” He starts, and you fight off a wince. Hopefully, you don’t know what’s coming. But… the likeliness of that is not high. “You wanna go out, some time? I’m a big fan of your work.” He smirks.

“Oh, ha ha.” You laugh sarcastically, shaking your head and returning to your sandwich. You take a bite and- Ahhhhhh, so worth the wait. Oh my god. Food orgasm. “At least you’re honest!”

“Yeah, so is that a yes?” His face brightens a smidgeon, which is a lot seeing as he doesn’t seem to be totally all there, in the first place.

You look up at Isaac, and look apologetic. He was honest with you so its only fair that you’re genuine with him. “Sorry… “

“Ah- actually, I don’t know if this’ll change your mind, but I have 2 weeks to live, so… “

Never mind on that honesty thing, then.

Dull-eyed, you stare up at him. “… Uh-huh.”

“Its true! I have, uh, cancer.” He insists, nodding his head and forcing his eyebrows up his forehead all serious-like.

“Cancer.” Right.

“Yep.”

Right, time to look in the bag... You start to wrap up your lunch again - sadly, as now you’ll have to wait until the end of the day and the bus ride home to eat it, - and plop it back away in your bag, getting up and pulling out a cigarette instead- that should hold you over until the end of the day. “My lunch break is actually over, so I should go- Damn, where’s my light?“

Isaac rifles through his pockets until he pulls out an old looking neon orange lighter, and offers it to you. “Here, use mine.”

Oh, no. You stare at it like a deer in headlights. If you accept that, like you really want to right now because it’s been a month since your last smoke, then you have obligations to sit with him for another couple minutes, at least.

Aghh… You groan and whine on the inside, before making up your mind and flinging the cigarette into a puddle. “See the thing is, I don’t actually have the time-”

“Go away now, let me go.”

“Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?”

“Ughhh… “This one has been giving you looks all day, but had no courage until now to speak to you- but the thing is? He didn’t have the smarts, either, to take off his wedding ring at least before he decided to be a bastard and bother you. So you feel absolutely no regret about being exactly as dismissive or plain rude, as you feel. “Elias? Go away now.”

The nervous man, who’s been ringing his hands this whole time and stuttering through failed date requests that you pretended you didn’t understand because of his struggle, gets panicked. “Just let me ask!- Will, will you go out with me?”

“No.” You yawn, dropping a piglet toy into a basket.

“But!- “

Turning away, you start pushing your trolley along to get to the next aisle. “Let me go.”

“We can go wherever you like!”

Sighhhhhhhhh. You turn around and grant him an audience, putting your hands on your hips and raising you brows at the wedding band on his left hand.

“Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?”

“Please fuck off.”

Oh good god in heaven, they’re going bigger with their proposals.

“Y/N! Will you go out with me?”

This man, Corey, has grabbed the announcement phone now that you’re walking away, making you freeze like the dad possum in Over The hedge and seriously consider playing dead, too, as you slowly turn around to look at him again.

Oh, if only looks could kill- he would be so dead that even Vlad the Impaler’s victims would laugh.

This is your first day, and the fact that you’re being harassed by multiple stupid men is bad enough but now he’s calling attention to you like this? Glenn’s going to think you’re a troublemaker!! Jesus fucking Christ- you need this job! Corey continues to talk into the speaker phone, even as he looks into your eyes and sees his death. “And… now… you’re looking at me like that, so uh… I’m just gonna… say please?”

… “’Please’ fuck off.”

“Yes ma’am-“

“Go away now, I’ve made myself clear.

I don’t think so.

Nah its not gonna happen.

Not in a million years.”

Since the run-in with Corey and the following spike in your blood pressure, you’ve calmed down again. But now you’re looking into the two faces of a ‘Mateo’, who you apparently work with, and a ‘Castor’ who does not work here and is not shopping but is still in your face and is t h i s close to feeding that ugly tie to his cousin.

But, still, you’re going to stay graceful, because Castor constantly looks like he’s 3 seconds from pooing himself. “Now please go away, now… I think I’ve made myself clear.” By explaining, politely, that you aren’t looking for a man but thank you for the offer, Castor.

“Oh, but you haven’t heard what Castor does for a living! He’s in insurance,” Mateo explains to you, like this is some huge game changer. When you don’t react, he adds that there’s good money, insurance.

You almost laugh. Does this boy really think you’re such a gold digger? Boy- if I wanted riches then I could’ve easily become a C-Class actor who has no skills in the area, but is pretty so gets praised like she does- like a lotta my model friends.

Instead I’m here, at Cloud 9.

Come to your own conclusions.

But instead of saying that, though, you just shake your head nervously. “I don’t think so… “

“But!- “

“Nah… sorry, its… not gonna happen… “

“But Castor is- “

“Not in a million years… “

“Aw, no. I gotta go. My house is on fire.”

Now, at least this one is respectful, you think, listening to him talk about the products you’re shelving together. He had come over and offered to give you a hand when you looked confused, as a ‘Cheyanne’ had handed you a scanner earlier and then promptly ran off, despite your utter incompetence. You were so relieved that this guy turned up!!

“… so, you just punch in reduce .50, and scan! Its pretty easy, if you have it properly explained to you. I- I was actually in the same situation, as you! When I first started here, except I ended up, uh, reducing all the items in electronics to 15 cense rather than discounting it all 15 percent.” A grin spreads across your lips at the story, and thank god that Jonah had turned up before that happened to you and, with your luck, you got fired for it.

“Oh no!”

“Yeah- Amy, our uh, floor supervisor, was pretty cranky with me about that… “He laughs himself, resting his hands on his hips; Still looking nervous at the memory.

You look back down at the scanner you’re holding and shake your head. “Well at least you know, now! And thank you so much for coming to my aid, haha. I was so lost- you’ve been a huge help! A life saver, truly.”

“Yeah… “ He gives a cute little, reserved smile. “So, uh, its basically the end of the day! Hope you’re first day hasn’t been too strenuous. At the end of my first day, I know I was tired. But I got to go out with a couple of the other employees and have a drink, to destress. If-If you were free, we could… do something. Together.” Your eyebrows slowly raise up your forehead at that, and you turn to look up Jonah, sceptical. What was that? You sure have had a long day, and its about to get a lot longer if this boy is asking what you think he is. “Sorry! Sorry, that sounded weird. Um, I guess what I’m really asking, is… would you like to, I dunno, go out with me sometime? I know some great places.”

Oh, noooooo! You cry, on the inside. You thought you found a normal one!

Still, he is being so nice… The least you could do is let him down easily.

“Oh, Jonah, I actually… oh- sorry.” Your phone beeps in your pocket and you take it out quickly to have a glance - its just your mother… again, - … and suddenly get an idea. Feigning shock, you quickly put the phone away and put down the scanner. It’s time to clock out and go home, anyway, thank god. “I have to go! That was my mum, uh- I really have to go!”

“Wow, wow, wow, what’s wrong?? Can I help with anything?”

Oh… he looks so concerned. He’s sweet.

But before you can rethink your words, this living horror slips out. “My-my house is on fire.”

Oh god, you’re a horrible person.

“I’ve, I’ve got herpes. No- Syphilis!”

Oh thank god the day is over. Rolling your shoulders back, you kneel down at your bottom locker, open it up and take out your bag. Now you can go home and put on Gotham on Netflix, wear no pants and eat thin mints until you fall asleep.

When you get up, you aren’t watching out for a man to be standing barely half a foot away from you - Your mistake, obviously, - so you jolt right out of your skin when you see him and curse. What is wrong with these men? Does Cloud 9 offer complimentary staff ninja classes along with their lack of health insurance? Man, classy company. “Sorry!” You look up past the coveralls after stepping a safe distance back from him, and immediately feel dread deep in your chest. “Oh, hi. Marcus, was it?”

“That’s me! How was your first day?” He asks, seeming polite enough despite the fact that you’re cornered between tall boy and the lockers. And you’re too tired to try and slip away- this boy will get out of your way.

“It was good! Thanks for asking. I’m ready to go home and collapse, though.” You admit, shoulders dropping and a tired smile on your lips. Mmm… thin mints… bed… blankets… Cory Michael Smith… I can taste it… Marcus just needs to get out of my way.

“I hear that.” Evidently not quite as deeply, though, as he moves on pretty fast. “Listen- I was thinking if you’re into it we could… go out, some time.” He tilts his head forward to clarify, “On a date,”, in case that part hadn’t translated, and chuckles. “We could see a movie or get drinks, or something, I don’t know. How about tonight?”

T-tonight? The word nearly slips from your lips; All disbelief and tears and exhaustion, included. You’re so tired. “Um… you know, tempting offer, but um… “He looks so hopeful. It nearly changes your mind. “Not tonight.”

“OH! So like, tomorrow?” Oh christ- “Cuz I’m supposed to watch Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here with my mum, but… no, I can blow that off! So, tomorrow?”

You take a deep breath, not really knowing what you can say. “Marcus… “He raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “… I have herpes.”

“Wait, what??” He steps back, nearly tripping over a table in his fear that just being near you will cause him to contract the disease, and you let your guard down in relief. Yep, for sure, definitely. If it makes him back off, then yes- you have herpes. You have a raging, festering case of herpes.

“Yeah! Or-“ Squinting, you pretend to sift through your brain. “Was it Syphilis?” This boys eyes basically bulge out of his head and you’re totally going to laugh about it later, but right now you have to get out of there. You waive your hand dismissively and walk on by him towards the door like you don’t have a care in the world. Before you leave though, you turn around a flash Marcus a big smile. “Either way, ew, right? Well, see you tomorrow buddy! Gotta go! Enjoy I’m A Celebrity with your mum.” Then you’re gone.

Tomorrow is going to be a much better day, once that rumour is properly spread.

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Tremor V

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: On the Teen/Mature border Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon Tracy, Scott Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, The Hood

Part 5 of my contribution to Hear from @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday challenge. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

WASP!Gordon is fun. WASP!Gordon also took my plans for this chapter and derailed them spectacularly. We’re back around part 3 levels of violence; some torture and gun use in this part.

Each brother was one with his respective Thunderbird. It made sense; each Thunderbird had been built specifically for them, after all. Their hope, their determination, desperation whenever they went out on a mission, to save another family a tragedy shone through Tracy and machine equally. Today was the first day Gordon had set foot in Thunderbird Four thrumming with suppressed anger; she’d responded in kind, an emotion unsuited to a rescue machine but mirrored all the same.

And Gordon was angry. He was furious, grip on the controls firmer than normal as his Thunderbird pushed through the water. EOS had given them a starting point, but it had been another agonising forty-eight hours before his connections at WASP had located the Hood’s monstrosity – such a thing should never be in the air, let alone contaminating the world’s oceans – and a plan of attack had been formed.

The ocean was Gordon’s domain. Outside the windows, murky shapes kept pace with his submarine; the ocean was WASP’s domain, too, and WASP took offence to the Hood’s presence. The fact that one of the accompanying submarines was the same one Gordon had served on as an officer, manned by that very same crew, was just an added bonus.

Behind him Kayo shifted, International Rescue’s own security agent too agitated to remain still in the confined cockpit of Thunderbird Four. They hadn’t exchanged any words since Thunderbird Two had dropped them off to the south of Iceland, Virgil trying one last argument to come with them rather than remain on standby. The blanch when Gordon had offered him a gun had been enough to defeat that argument.

This was a rescue, but it wasn’t one in International Rescue’s domain, despite the presence of Thunderbird Four. Unarmed civilians like his brother would be nothing more than a liability. Gordon didn’t want to use the gun stowed safely in his baldric, but if that was what it came to, he would. Kayo had equally declined a gun, but she was more dangerous without one. No-one would dare consider her an unarmed civilian.

Up ahead, the Hood’s ship loomed, and Gordon allowed him a brief moment of Scott’s in there before calling on his military mindset and letting it settle over him, pushing detrimental emotions to the back of his mind.

Get in. Locate the hostage. Get out. Do not engage with hostiles unnecessarily.

Behind him Thunderbird Shadow’s pilot stilled, her breathing carefully regulated and even as she slipped into her own professional mask. There was too much at stake for careless mistakes.

Latching onto another craft was second nature, Thunderbird Four designed to pull off that exact trick, and he slipped under the belly of the craft, locating the airlock. WASP carried on past, surrounding the machine with loaded missiles at the ready if it tried to escape. Only one submarine stayed behind – Gordon’s old one, with men he knew and trusted.

The boarding party was small. WASP paperwork indicated they’d been selected by their Commander. That Commander had once worked with Gordon during his days in service and selected the names Gordon picked. They all convened at the airlock, nudging it open with practised ease and slipping inside.

What was a mass of junk on the outside was a refined interior, better at home in a billionaire’s private yacht than a criminal’s lair. Polished floorboards with plush rugs, more than likely all obtained through less-than-legal means, greeted them as they edged forwards. From here it was all luck; they had no plan of the interior, no other known ship to compare to for even the vaguest idea.

Gordon gave the order to advance, a sharp hand gesture they all heeded instantly. Kayo, hurriedly drilled through the basics of WASP’s signals once it became apparent it would be a joint operation, stuck close to him. Around them, there was the hum of life support, muted but audible in the silence. Lights buzzed almost silently overhead, suspended with decorative shades rather than the bare-bones of a typical submarine. Beneath their feet, the plush rugs muffled any and all footsteps, and it was with guns in hand that the team cautiously proceeded.

“Hey!”

They spotted the masked person the same moment they saw them and following the brief the two front-most aquanauts reacted, dragging them down before they could flee or raise an alarm. Whoever it was, they were naïve and sloppy, and their resistance was flimsy at best. Outnumbered and unprepared, they were down in seconds.

An empty bottle dropped to the floor, bouncing off the floorboards with a dull thunk before rolling onto the rug and remaining still. Gordon narrowed in on it immediately, padding forwards and trusting his companions to keep watch on the area as he scooped it up. Droplets of clear liquid trailed down the inside. Helmeted, Gordon couldn’t catch a scent, but it seemed most likely to be water.

Why was their now-unconscious opponent carrying around an empty water bottle? He gestured his intentions to check the alcove they’d appeared from, and immediately Kayo and two others were with him as the others kept the area secure.

A plain white door greeted him, firmly shut. Faint thudding and an accompanying unrecognisable sound were barely audible from the other side. Gordon turned his attention to the access panel beside it and withdrew a little present from John and EOS. Barely a fraction of the AI’s processing code – not enough for her consciousness to be within it – it was enough to have the door unlocked and opening in seconds.

The room was not large, but it didn’t need to be. A thrashing, flailing body was chained to a table, mouth open in a soundless scream. Behind him, Kayo made to step forward but Gordon threw an arm to stop her, tearing his eyes from the scene to survey the rest of the room. No-one there.

Satisfied, he firmly gestured for Kayo to guard the door and edged in, taking one last check around for unwelcome surprises, before he let the military ebb away slightly and all but ran to his brother’s side.

Relief at finding him was fleeting at best. Electric sparks were flying around each of the shackles, providing an immediate answer for Scott’s distress, and Gordon grit his teeth, looking for the source. A small black box, tucked under the foot of the table, caught his attention and he didn’t waste time looking for the off switch. Muffler on his gun, he took aim and fired. Sparks fizzed around the hole, but the low hum of electricity stopped, and Gordon holstered the weapon, attention solely on his brother.

Scott was pale, washed out beyond anything that could be considered remotely healthy. His eyes were open, but it was clear he wasn’t looking at anything, the usual sharp blue muted and dulled as his chest heaved, mouth open for air. Brown hair was dishevelled and matted, wet and plastered to his face, some droplets of water still running down his cheeks.

Gordon wasted no time in picking the locks of the shackles, noticing irregular spasms in his muscles and bruised fingers at unnatural angles, and the carefully suppressed anger bubbled below the surface. Scott came first, but if the Hood showed his face before they’d left, Gordon had a bullet with his name on it.

How dare he do this to his brother. Gordon was under no illusions that Scott’s five days with the madman had been any different to what he’d just witnessed, and there was a part of him very relieved to find him still alive.

The shackles fell away to show burnt and bleeding skin beneath. Gordon touched one still-twitching arm gently and Scott’s head rolled away from him with a barely-there noise, arm flinching minutely.

Gordon wanted to take his time, reassure Scott he wasn’t going to hurt him – while mentally deciding what, exactly, he was going to do to the Hood if he made the mistake of appearing – but a muffled gunshot still made a noise, and from outside the room he could hear a small commotion.

“Hold on, Scott,” he murmured as he ran a quick assessment for any damage that would make moving him ill-advised, appalled but unsurprised at the lack of clothing. He tossed the small cloth that was present to one side, damp and rubbing the sensitive skin beneath it raw, determined that moving Scott wouldn’t kill him, and scooped him into his arms.

Scott was taller than him by some margin, but whether it was Gordon’s determination to get him out of there or a drastic loss of weight during captivity, lifting him was barely more strenuous than if it were Alan. Gordon pushed the thought away to be dealt with once they were safe.

“We’re out of here,” he said curtly to Kayo, who nodded without turning around – although Gordon’ didn’t miss the look out of the corner of her eye, or the harder set of her jaw – and advanced into the corridor.

They didn’t wait for WASP – with International Rescue’s primary objective in Gordon’s arms, their aims now differed as the military moved into the second phase of the operation: capture the Hood. Former comrades offered him little more than a nod of the head as they passed, keeping their passage to the airlock clear before joining the advance ahead, but Gordon ignored them. Scott wasn’t reacting to being moved, limp and unseeing in his arms, and the sooner they got him off the ship, the better.

They’d need to swim to Thunderbird Four. It was barely any distance to the closest airlock on the small submarine, ten metres at most, but Gordon couldn’t be sure Scott was conscious enough to hold his breath.

“Go,” he said to Kayo. “Get the stretcher ready.” She gave Scott a concerned look before nodding and launching herself out of the ship. Gordon didn’t watch her go; instead he knelt and propped Scott up against his legs, supporting him with one arm while the other hand dug out the rebreather. “Just a quick swim,” he promised his brother, pressing it to cover his mouth and nose.

Immediately, Scott reacted, lurching away from the equipment and almost falling sideways. Gordon clung to him tighter, hushing him as he moved his head from side to side, blue eyes wide with terror.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, heart constricted at the sight of his strong big brother reduced to blindly thrashing with trembling muscles barely under his control. “It’s just until we get to Four, I promise. Come on, Scotty. I can’t get you out of here without it.” His words had no effect, and he brushed Scott’s hair back, desperate. “It’s me, Scotty. Gordon. I’m getting you out of here. It’s just a rebreather. Just like when you used to fly fighter jets,” he promised. He couldn’t use a tranquiliser, not when they had no idea what Scott had been dropped with originally, or what might have been used since.

There were footsteps approaching, heavy enough to be heard even though plush rug. Not WASP.

“Come on, Scott,” he pleaded quietly. “You can do it. Twenty seconds, that’s all. Twenty seconds and you’ll be safe in Thunderbird Four.” Scott stilled and he cautiously tried again, only for his brother to panic again as soon as it came into contact with his face.

The footsteps were getting closer.

“Please, Scott,” he hissed. “Please!”

Step. Step. Step. Gordon dropped the rebreather and went for his gun, turning and firing a shot as a man came into view.

There was a cry of pain and the helmetless man dropped to the floor, hands around the hole in his leg.

“Another Tracy,” he hissed, eyes a green-yellow and glaring daggers at him. Scott flinched violently at the voice, and Gordon pulled him closer protectively with the hand not holding the gun trained on the other man.

Gordon hadn’t watched the old footage as obsessively as some of his brothers, but even he recognised the man in front of him. Scott’s reaction was unnecessary confirmation, and his finger squeezed the trigger again. Again. Again.

One bullet hit the Hood’s other leg. The other two found his shoulders, the Hood jerking back with each hit and Gordon levelled the barrel at the bald head as the man screamed hoarsely.

“That was four bullets,” he said coldly as pained yet furious eyes found his and widened at the barrel still aimed towards them. “You had him five days.”

He pulled the trigger.

Part VI

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #kayo kyrano #the hood #wasp #wasp!gordon #tremor #guns

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doctortreklock · 5 years

Text

Drawing with the Dead - September 25, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: "Do you believe in ghosts?" (x)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Words: 1610

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"Do you believe in ghosts?"

Clint's head jerked up from where he had been bent over his sketchpad. He hastily pulled the headphones off his ears and looked to his left to see a man sitting on the short wall next to him watching him sketch. "Uh, I'm sorry?" he tried.

The man smiled. It was a nice smile, Clint noted absently. "I was asking if you believe in ghosts," he repeated.

"Not so much," Clint told him with a easy grin. "I have a hard enough time believing in what's in front of me sometimes."

The man hummed and looked like he was giving Clint's off-the-cuff answer serious thought.

"What about you?" Clint asked quickly. It didn't seem like the man was going to be leaving soon, and if Clint were being honest, he didn't mind the company. It seemed like this end of campus got pretty dead after nine o'clock and he could use the break from sketching.

"I've found that at a certain point, believing becomes unavoidable," the man told him slowly, as if picking his words carefully.

Clint scoffed playfully and adjusted the shading on his rendition of the abstract sculpture in the middle of the art building's atrium. "Seen a lot of ghosts, then?" he asked, sliding his gaze back over to the man.

He couldn't really help it. The man sitting by him was plain, almost the dictionary definition of "unassuming," but there was something about him that Clint liked. Maybe it was the confident, quiet way he held himself, his kind blue eyes, or the well-fitted - if slightly old-fashioned - suit he was wearing. Or maybe it was just the way his lightly lined face and receding hairline played into Clint's predilection for handsome older men.

The smile that played around the man's lips twisted wryly. "Something like that, yes," he said.

"So," Clint drawled, waggling his eyebrows outrageously. "Come here often?" If he asked as ridiculously as possible, he could brush it off as a joke if need be.

From the smirk that tugged at the corners of the man's mouth, Clint didn't think he'd have to downplay the question. "Would you believe me," he asked, "if I told you I didn't get out much and that this was the only place I'd been in a very long time?"

For a moment, Clint wasn't sure if he was serious or not, but the upturned corner of the man's mouth was enough to convince him that it had just been very, very dry humor.

Clint snorted and the other man seemed pleased that he had recognized it as a joke.

"I'm Clint," Clint said, twisting in his seat so he could offer the man his right hand and a dazzling smile. "Clint Barton. Do you want to get a drink with me?" What the hell, might as well, right?

"Phil Coulson," the man said politely, making no move to take Clint's hand. "And I'm afraid I can't, as much as I would like to. Unfortunately, incorporeality does have its drawbacks." He sounded honest-to-god regretful about it.

Well that had stung a bit more than anticipated. Clint drew back quickly and used his outstretched hand to rub the back of his neck. "Ouch," he half-joked. "That's a new one." He glanced over at the sculpture in the center of the atrium again and tried to focus on the lines he'd been sketching.

"Excuse me?" The man - Phil - sounded baffled, but Clint didn't look over to see if his expression matched his tone.

"It's just that usually when a guy doesn't want to go out with me, he just says no." The curve at the top was actually a little rounder than he'd drawn in his sketchbook, Clint noted absently. "He doesn't pretend he's a ghost."

Phil didn't say anything for a moment, so Clint brought his pencil back up with his left hand to gently correct the shape. He'd barely started, though, when a movement caught the corner of his eye. Phil had leaned in and placed one hand gently on Clint's elbow.

Normally, that wouldn't be cause for alarm. However, normally, Clint would have sensed someone leaning into his personal space. And normally, he'd be able to feel where Phil's hand rested on his arm.

Clint stared at the place where his eyes were telling him Phil Coulson was touching him and his arm was telling him Phil damn well was not. His lifted his right hand hesitantly and placed it over Phil's fingers. If Phil were a tangible, physical person, Clint would be clutching at his hand like an Austen heroine. As it was, his fingers hovered over space his eyes were insisting shouldn't be empty before he laid his fingers flat on his own arm.

Immediately, a cold tingle rushed through his hand, instantly putting it to sleep, pins and needles and all.

Clint swore and pulled his hand back abruptly. Phil flinched away as well. Clint shook his hand a few times and swore again as the pins and needles played havoc with his pain perception. "Sorry," he managed, flexing his hand twice to try and dispel the sharp tingling.

"No need to apologize," Phil said. "It's hardly the first time."

He sounded sad. Clint looked over at him to find Phil inspecting his own hand. There was a slump to his shoulders that he could have sworn hadn't been there a few minutes earlier.

"Hey," Clint said softly, his own fading pain forgotten. If Phil had been physical, Clint would have bumped shoulders with him. (Then again, if Phil had been physical, Clint wouldn't have needed to.) "You okay?"

Phil straightened up. "Of course." He straightened his cuffs, carefully not looking in Clint's direction.

Clint had just opened his mouth to say something reassuring (what, he had no idea), when his phone buzzed. Since there were only a few people who might have been texting him this late at night, he pulled his phone out and glanced at it. It was an SOS from Nat.

Before he could have a heart attack (and, boy, wasn't that joke less funny with apparently an honest-to-god ghost sitting right next to him), a second text came through. Apparently she and Bucky had just entered one of the "off" phases of their on-and-off relationship and his presence was required.

Clint sighed and muttered, "Great timing there, Nat." He shot her a quick acknowledgement and looked back over at Phil, who seemed to be attempting to memorize the abstract sculpture if the intensity of his gaze was any indication. His shoulders were stiff.

"Sorry," Clint apologized, closing his notebook and starting to put his drawing supplies back in his backpack. "My best friend just broke up with her boyfriend again and could use some help practicing her knife throwing."

Now Phil just looked concerned. "Are you sure that's the safest..." He trailed off.

Clint didn't notice; he was half-bent-over, trying to squeeze the sketchpad into his backpack. "Nah, it's fine. I was in the circus and I think she was a Russian assassin in a previous life, so we've got it covered." He straightened up and stood, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. "Anyway, I should really be heading out." He hesitated. "Will I see you again?"

Phil was staring at the backpack slug over one shoulder. "You're a student?" he asked faintly.

"Uh, yeah," Clint frowned. "Just started a couple weeks ago." Phil's expression was becoming increasingly dismayed. Clint hitched his bag higher and tried not to let it get to him.

"I usually only talk to the professors," Phil explained. "I thought you were older. An artist-in-residence at the very least." He looked distressed.

Clint had the sinking feeling that now Phil wouldn't want to get a drink with him even if he were physically capable of it. "It's cool," he lied. "I know I'm a bit older than the typical freshman. It was the circus," he added, desperate to explain. "They weren't big on traditional schooling and I had to take some extra time to get caught up." Clint focused on the floor of the atrium and hoped his face wasn't as warm as it felt. Did he really try to reassure the handsome ghost haunting the art building that he wasn't too young to hang out with because he'd been too stupid to get into college at 18?

"Clint."

Clint glanced up again and Phil looked uncomfortable. Before he could say anything, the phone in his hand buzzed again.

"I've got to go," Clint said. "Apparently Nat needs Rocky Road to go with her target practice." He tried to give Phil a smile, but he was pretty sure it came out sad and wonky. "Anyway," he added unnecessarily.

Phil didn't say anything, so Clint took that as his cue to go.

"Clint," Phil said again.

Clint turned back to see him standing next to the low wall where the pair had been sitting. He looked decisive. "Yeah?"

"I can't get a drink with you," the ghost of Phil Coulson told him. "But I would enjoy talking to you again, if that's something you would like." He held Clint's gaze steadily, but Clint could have sworn he saw a hint of a blush on the top of his cheeks.

Clint gave Phil another smile, this one wider and more sincere. "I'd like that."

They looked at each other across the atrium for a moment before Clint threw a hand in the air in a jaunty wave and turned to go. "See you around, Phil," he called.

He didn't look back, but Clint could have sworn he heard an affectionate sigh behind him.

#Resolution19 #Marvel #MCU #C/C #Phlint #College AU #Ghost!Coulson #Ghost!Phil #man I thought verb phrases as a title style would have been more fun #but next month!!!#excited for next month's titles!!!#I'm bringing back a previous style XD #not sure why I worry about length though #this was 330 words #and i was trying and trying to get to 400 #and then this happend #and it's over 1600 #*sigh*

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a-mad-scientist-approaches · 6 years

Text

The Cipher Conspiracy (11)

Phase 1: Collection

Phase 2: Construction

Phase 3: Catastrophe

(Or, the usual process of building something, even if that something is plot.)

This chapter’s pretty much about getting everyone on the same page (except for Ford, who’s busy being dramatic. Poor guy).

Adeline Marks is @hntrgurl13‘s OC, and @scipunk63 created the Addiford ship.

Go forth, lovelies!

AO3

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Chapter 11: A Meeting of Spies

Sacramento, California (USA) ∆

Addi sped into the public bathroom, head down, eyes furtively whipping around to check that it was empty. There were a couple of women in the changing rooms, but other than that there was no one around. Good. She dumped her bag on the floor, closing her eyes and breathing more evenly. When she was ready, she opened them and looked at her bloody reflection in the mirror.

Huh. It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.

“First aid kit,” she muttered, rooting through the bag. If she’d been able to muster up any emotion other than stress, fear, and grief, she would have been proud to say she’d given as good as she’d got. Better, even.

Two people had been waiting for her in the elevator, which she really should have expected. She’d been in close proximity to a Cipher Wheel agent for almost twenty-four hours, so of course there would have been others converging on her.

Addi ran her hands under the cold water of the tap, rinsing off the blood on her hands and washing out the cuts and scrapes on her knuckles. They hadn’t been expecting her fists, or in fact, anything about the fight she had given them.

One had still gotten in a lucky shot, though. Addi winced as she wiped her nose. It wasn’t broken. She’d managed to avoid that – by turning her head. Now she could see a lovely bruise forming on her cheekbone.

The elevator had been too close-quarters for weapons to be drawn properly. Addi had managed to kick – literally – both of them out the doors when they opened on the next floor, adding a strained leg muscle to her injuries, and another cracked rib to each of theirs. They’d gotten distracted by an incoming call on their earpieces, Addi had hit the button to close the doors as fast as she could, and the last she had seen was them sprinting towards the stairwell. She’d stopped the elevator right before the lobby and taken a back exit at a sprint.

And that was that.

Her expression crumpled and she started sobbing. Just as quickly, she stifled the sounds and lifted her eyes to the ceiling, grasping the edges of the sink tightly until she was back in control, taking in one, two deep breaths.

It didn’t fit, none of it fit. Ford had been trying to get to Oracle Division through her; he had been biding his time. He had repeatedly said – truthfully, she could tell – that he cared about her, as well as told her that he wouldn’t hurt her. He had said that Cipher Wheel agents were completely solitary. And yet, despite all of this, two had casually watched as she got into the elevator with them, waited for the doors to close, and then begun their attack. There was no mistaking that they had been after her.

So what? Spies lied. That’s what they did. That’s what she did.

That’s not what Ford did. At least, not with her. He avoided questions, he gave half-truths, he pretended he hadn’t heard, or he accidentally let something slip, but he had never lied to her. Quite apart from anything else, she would have known if he had.

So why was nothing lining up anymore?

There was something that she wasn’t seeing.

Addi shook her head, wiped her nose – not due to blood this time – and quickly checked another bruise on her ribs. If she let her thoughts overcome her again, she’d be crying on the bathroom floor and of no use to anyone. More pressingly, if she spared any more time thinking about this, the agents would catch up to her.

She was being hunted. She needed to get somewhere safe.

∆

To be fair, Stan did wake up feeling much better: the stinging in his shoulder had died down uncannily. However, considering that Ford had drugged him in the first place, he ignored that.

He lurched up in the passenger seat of the Stanmobile. Traffic passed by the driver’s window, pedestrians walked past on the pavement, the entrances of the surrounding apartments all remained empty, and same deal with the other parked cars: nothing suspicious at all.

Stan scrambled out of the car, looking wildly around. No sign of Ford.

“Holy-”

He couldn’t even find the words. Settling for dragging his hands through his hair, he kept his eyes fruitlessly on the side walk, turning his head frequently out of a desperate need to be proved wrong.

Please tell me he didn’t leave again, please let him not have disappeared, not again, not again.

At least those agents hadn’t found him (Stan, that was. Who knew what could have happened to his idiotic, freaked out, unnecessarily protective, supposedly-intelligent-actually-massively-moronic brother?). Well, hadn’t found him yet, to be more accurate. It might have only been ten minutes, and Ford wouldn’t have – he hoped – left him lying unconscious and defenceless unless he was sure Stan would be safe, but they could still catch up to him, and next time they’d be expecting him.

Cursing, Stan went around to the other side of the car and opened the door. Starting the engine and pulling out of the space did not provide nearly enough distraction from his thoughts.

Okay, so, it was obvious Ford wasn’t working for Cipher, judging by the expression on the snappily dressed man’s face which Stan wasn’t ashamed to admit was pants-wettingly terrifying. And that was another thing: had he really just come face-to-face with Bill Cipher? Something left him with no doubt that the answer was oh yeah buddy. You better watch out.

Ford’s not working for Cipher anymore, Stan corrected, wincing. He had a feeling that was going to be a sticking point when he broke the news to Carla.

Speaking of Carla, that’s where he should head.

Although, the Stanmobile had been sitting in that parking spot for almost a day, and if someone had had time to give him a ticket (which was now flapping annoyingly in the wind against his windscreen), it was definitely possible that it could have been noticed by other Cipher Wheel agents. Someone might even be following him right now.

He twisted in his seat, looking over his shoulder, daring someone to be weaving in and out of the rhythms of traffic after him. No one was. They might be being subtle though. He grimaced.

One thing he could be sure of was that he wasn’t being tracked. If Ford had thought the car was safe, then that was good enough for Stan. So, he would drive around the city for a while, making sure he wasn’t being followed, and then he’d head to the FBI field office.

All he had to do until then was pay attention, watch the road, and not panic about Ford.

The traffic lights ahead turned red. He waited.

He tapped his fingers on the wheel. He tapped his foot on the floor. He cracked his knuckles. He breathed through his nose. He gripped the steering wheel and slammed his forehead on the horn, blasting it loudly enough to make the driver in front jump in their seat.

“Moses, Ford, where are you?!” He yelled.

∆

Safety be damned. If Addi was calling him, Fiddleford was going to answer.

“Addi! Are ya alright? What happened? Why weren’t you answering yer phone? Why’re you in Sacramento?”

He unleashed the torrent of questions while simultaneously struggling to put the phone on speaker, position it somewhere it wouldn’t fall and be lost in the depths of the car, and change gears as he rounded a corner.

“Don’t worry, I’m fi- I’m not dead,” Fiddleford had never been so glad to hear his partner’s voice, but her small stumble in that sentence did not go unnoticed. He would have pressed the point, demanding to know exactly what was going on, what had happened to her, but more pressing things were at hand, such as Addi’s safety. Her next words only reinforced the urgency of the situation.

“I got an assignment yesterday that I had to be in Sacramento for – an assassination,”

“What?!”

“Oh, it’s wonderful! Would you mind if I tried it on? Thaaaank yooouuu- Oh what’s that?!”

Some heavy breaths came through the phone, and it took a moment for Fiddleford to figure out that Addi had been talking to, and then taking something and running away from, someone else. She was covering or switching out her clothes.

Which meant someone was on her tail.

“Yeah, only Jheselbraum didn’t okay it with me,” she continued as if nothing had happened.

“Well, Ah’d say so. That is not the way she runs things,”

“Thankfully I never went through with it. But the thing is, it was the superiors who gave it to me,”

There was no need to elaborate. Fiddleford’s face went slack and even though his phone was probably one of the most secure devices on the planet, he didn’t trust himself to voice the obvious.

Stanford Pines had been running all over the world building a memory device for Bill Cipher that could give him almost limitless power and influence, enabling him to do anything that he wanted. Fiddleford couldn’t contact Jheselbraum, Oracle Division, or anyone in Manhattan. Addi had been ordered to assassinate someone, presumably as part of some sort of set-up. So many things had come to a head recently, and it was clear what the conclusion to this latest one was.

The superiors were corrupt.

Oracle Division was compromised.

As of now, the Cipher Wheel was coming after them.

“Where are ya?”

“On the – oh, here, let me hold your hat while you get that picture, no really, it’s fine, don’t worry – on the move,”

“Y’Haven’t been able ta get a hold of the director, have ya?”

“No. Everything’s been dead since last night,”

“Same situation here,”

“Hello sir, I’m sorry, would it, um, would it be okay if I read the blurb of your book? I’ve just been interested for such a long time and – aw, thank you very mu- oh my gosh, did you see that? Just over there, look, look!”

More quick breaths, accompanied by running footsteps if Fiddleford listened closely.

“Was that really necessary?” He asked exasperatedly.

“If that guy has Cipher Wheel agents on his tail, he’s welcome to come take it back,” his friend’s grim reply came. “Please tell me you have somewhere safe we can meet?”

Paranoia gripped him even as he replied. What if someone was listening? What if his phone had been hacked?

“Sacramento FBI field office. Ask fer Senior Special Agent McCorkle. Ah’ll be there soon,”

Too late to worry about that now. His friend needed an extraction, and this was the best he could give her.

“Got it. And Fidds? If they’ve found me . . . watch out for yourself, too,”

He hadn’t considered that.

Fiddleford swallowed, attempting to work some moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth. “Stay safe, Addi,”

“Yeah. You too,”

Hearing her voice waver slightly, he cut the connection.

∆

Carla stared at her computer, open-mouthed.

“As you can see, the entirety of Manhattan appears to be experiencing a massive power failure, unlike anything seen before. Reports indicated that from approximately seven o’clock last night sections of the city began to systematically experience blackouts until ten o’clock, at which time the entire island was engulfed in darkness. All attempts to restore power have so far failed, and it is speculated that this is due to a series of modified electromagnetic pulses, or EMPs. If so, who set them, and why target Manhattan?

“Next up: do you wish you had more ways to waste electricity? Why not invest in-”

Carla turned the news report off, mind reeling with questions and suspicion. It was just her jumpiness because of the news about Ford, right? This event wasn’t necessarily linked to her case, it could be a completely separate incident, couldn’t it? What was she thinking: this had nothing to do with how she had tracked one of Jheselbraum’s phone calls once and had seen that it came from Manhattan. It was totally different to how Manhattan was probably where Oracle Division’s base of operations was located. It wasn’t involved whatsoever with the fact that the most effective way to start taking Oracle Division out of the game would be to cut it off from everything else. And the fact that the person who would have the most to gain by doing that, as well as the person who would have the means to, was Bill Cipher.

Her office door clicked opened, Fiddleford hurrying in and shutting it hastily behind himself. He shushed her before she said anything, keeping to the edge of the office until he reached the blinds. Then, as if they were going to bite him, he carefully drew them over the window. Immediately afterwards he turned to the nearest of her shelves and began feeling behind the files.

“I’ve already done a bug sweep,” Carla said.

“And ya haven’t left yer office at all since?”

“No,”

Fiddleford looked relieved.

“What’s with the blinds?” she asked.

The relief vanished, to be replaced by graveness.

“We think Oracle Division’s bin compromised,”

“I knew it!” Carla exclaimed, making him jump. “Sorry.” Her eyes widened as she realised the implications. “Oh, that’s bad. What do we do now?”

“Someone’s after m’partner, so I’ve told her to come here; it’s about the only safe place we have left. We can compare what we know, go from there.” Fiddleford said decisively. “No one can know we’re here, not ‘til we know who’s on our side.” He gave her another serious look.

“This is a lot.” Carla said, raking her hands through her hair as she got up to walk around. “All of a sudden Ford’s a bad guy, Jheselbraum and Oracle Division are out of the loop, freaking Manhattan is down, and the Cipher Wheel’s coming after y-” She froze.

“What is it?”

“The mole.” She looked at Fiddleford in horror. “We haven’t dealt with the agent spying on me yet.” Carla’s eyes widened and she made for the door. “You have to get out, tell your partner to meet somewhere else-”

“Bad idea; if I wasn’t made on th’way in, I could be on the way out.” Fiddleford was obviously thinking quickly, but it seemed like he had no alternatives. “Besides, this’s still the safest place around where we can talk.”

“So we just have to hope nothing bad will happen?” Carla said in disbelief. Most definitely not to her satisfaction, Fiddleford nodded reluctantly.

“Well that’s gone great so far,” she said bitterly.

∆

“Just wait over there please, ma’am,” the receptionist politely instructed Addi. She nodded in response, taking a seat while they made a call.

Tensely, she waited.

A building full of FBI agents, and any one of them could be Cipher’s.

This is a nightmare, she reflected, pulling her stolen hat lower over her face while huddling in her swiped coat and focusing intently on her snatched book as more employees came in. Yeah, what a way to not look suspicious.

Every second that ticked by wound her tighter, and it would not take a lot to make her release all that tension and fly for the exit. The receptionist was speaking into the phone now, but Addi was too far away to hear what they were saying. The phone was replaced and the seconds kept ticking by. What if they were the mole? What if they’d alerted more agents? What if the Cipher Wheel had seized control of the FBI, had put her and Fiddleford on a wanted list, made them fugitives before they could even begin to process what was hap-

“Miss Martin, thank you for meeting me today,”

Addi lurched to her feet, automatically going to bolt for the door. Making as though to pass off the movement as a shaking out of her limbs, she turned to her addresser.

“Carla McCorkle.” The Latina woman with a flower in her hair introduced herself before adding, “Fergus MacIntyre will be pleased to know you’ve arrived.”

“R-Right. Thank you,” Addi said. She didn’t untense, but she did manage to accompany Agent McCorkle to the elevator with only minimal jerkiness.

The FBI agent was about as stressed as her, which went a long way towards convincing Addi that she could trust her. Clearly Fiddleford had already filled her in on the situation, and she was taking it very seriously.

Attempting to keep up appearances, Carla asked, “How are you?”

Addi actually had to stop, speechless, staring helplessly. Carla looked back at her, pressing the button for the elevator.

“You too, huh?” she sighed.

∆

Once they were inside Carla’s office, Addi was immediately enveloped in a tight hug from Fiddleford.

“Yer not dead!” He exclaimed.

“That’s certainly something,” Addi agreed in a muffled voice.

“Yer not fine, either,” he added more quietly. After a moment, Addi agreed to that too.

“We’ll talk about it,” Fiddleford promised.

“Only if it’s to do with the current crisis,” Carla stepped in with an apologetic tinge to her words. “We really need to sort that out.”

Fiddleford gave Addi a pat on the back, pulling out of the embrace. Partially glad for the opportunity to avoid the discussion, and partially not, Addi got her head back in order.

“Sorry. Things’ve been kinda stressful lately,” Fiddleford said matter-of-factly.

“No, it’s understandable. You’re talking to the girl who’s every move has been scrutinised for two weeks,” Carla smiled tiredly.

“No idea who the spy might be?” asked Addi, feeling herself drift back into the rhythm of work.

“Either everyone or no one,” was the dry response. “I even thought my flower was bugged for a while.” She gestured at the one in her hair.

“Is that why it’s missing a few petals?”

“My interrogation was brutal but thorough,” grinned Carla, a little livelier this time. Addi’s mouth twitched as well.

“Fiddleford, you said we should put together what we know?” the FBI agent continued.

“Yeah, yer right,”

Addi took a breath, thinking about where to start. “Well, I guess . . . Bergamo then?”

“Bergamo,” Fiddleford agreed.

“We had a mission to steal Dr Hansen’s latest invention, a material called shimmern. Our superiors-” Addi shivered a little – “wanted to weaponise it, which Dr Hansen wasn’t inclined to do,”

“Yeah, I think I know what happened.” Carla said, frowning and nodding along. “I read an Interpol report on your encounter there with Ford. Plus I made him tell me about it.”

“Ya most certainly are a force ta be reckoned with,” Fiddleford said, impressed.

“Huh. I guess my description did get through to them,” mused Addi.

“It was taken down not long after. Cipher’s work, I imagine,” Carla added.

“Oh,”

“Well from there we had several more encounters with Stanford. All o’ them highly suspicious and improbable,” Fiddleford continued.

“Ford said he wasn’t tracking us, none of it was planned. I think he was telling the truth,” Addi informed him.

“When did ya talk to him?” Fiddleford asked immediately, concerned.

Addi’s heart started beating faster, but Carla brought them determinedly back on course before she could answer.

“What was he doing, if he wasn’t tracking you?”

“Buildin’ something.” Fiddleford paused, seeming reluctant to go on. After a moment, Addi had to prompt him.

“Fidds?” She said gently. “You’re the only one who knows about this bit.”

Her friend cleared his throat, clearing an expression from his face moments before he looked back up at them.

Was that guilt? Why would he feel guilty?

“He – ah, he was buildin’ a weapon. He called it a memory gun. Said it extracted memories from whoever it was used on an’ let others see ‘em,”

Carla was dead quiet. “He was going to give Bill Cipher a mind-wiping device? To just use? On anyone?”

Addi thought it hadn’t been possible to feel worse about starting to fall for – she closed her eyes and corrected. To feel worse about – just about Ford, but it turned out that she was wrong. Yet again.

“That idiot.” Carla said with surprising vehemence. “I swear, I’ve known that man since high school and he hasn’t changed a bit.” Despite her coarse words, there was an undercurrent of distress and worry in them.

“This is unbelievably dangerous,” Addi said.

Fiddleford looked shifty for a moment but nodded his concurrence eventually. “’Specially when he said that it could turn ya to stone if it went wrong,”

“It could what?”

“Ford, you idiot,” Carla groaned again.

The door opened and shut so quickly there was barely enough time for the intruder to enter. Everyone jumped and reached for their weapons.

“Did someone just say Ford’s an idiot? Because you’re right,” Stan said emphatically, moving to join their gathering.

Fiddleford and Carla relaxed again, but Addi frowned. Something was occurring to her.

“Stan, what the heck?! Where did you go?” Carla berated, hugging him tightly.

“Went to see Ford,”

Something not good at all.

Carla glared at him. “And why couldn’t I come with you?”

“Because I wanted to see what was up with him before you and your handcuffs and law got there,” Stan said, like it was obvious.

“So did you find him? What happened? What’d he say?” said Fiddleford.

Addi reached for her gun again. Stan saw her.

“Uh, whoa, you aren’t thinking of-”

She drew it and aimed at him.

“Yep, guess you are,” he finished in dismay.

“Addi, what’re you doing?!” Exclaimed Fiddleford.

“Put the gun down now!” Ordered Carla.

Addi’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Am I really the only person who sees this?” Based on everyone’s expressions, yes, she was. “He’s been helping Ford this whole time! He’s a Cipher Wheel agent too!”

“Oh crap. No, Addi, listen-” Stan, hands raised, trying to placate her while looking very uneasy.

Fiddleford, frantic, waving his arms as if to signal her to stop as well. “Addi, no he doesn’t, he works for the FBI-”

“With the FBI,” corrected Stan and Carla together, automatically.

“And isn’t there a mole in the FBI?” Addi said, speaking directly to Carla.

She went to reply. Then hesitated.

“Carla, come on!” Stan said, nervousness colouring his voice.

“Fiddleford, arrest him,” Addi said to her partner. He looked shocked.

“What? No!”

“Fine. Agent McCorkle, do you have handcuffs?”

Carla seemed to snap back to the present. “No! None I’m giving to you, anyway. I trust Stan,” she said fiercely.

“Addi listen to me, Stan does not work for Cipher, he’s our friend,” Fiddleford protested.

“Well that didn’t stop Ford did it?! He wasn’t supposed to hurt us either and look how that turned out!”

“For Christ’s sake, put the gun down an’ listen to me Addi!”

She didn’t.

“Anything you try with him, you’ll have to do to me first,” Carla said, stepping in front of Stan with the immovability of a steel wall.

Not that that was going to stop Stan from trying, apparently.

“Carla, get out of the way! Are you crazy?” Stan was definitely starting to sweat as he tried to push his fiancée out of the gun’s line of sight, and Addi’s steady hand wavered. There was no way she was going to shoot anyone here, but if they thought she might then she still had some control, and things were rapidly spiralling out of that and why couldn’t they just see?

Both Stan’s and Carla’s gazes were fixated on her as they each started trying to push the other behind them, ending up in a tense grappling match that in another situation might have been funny but here it in no way was.

“Addi, I swear I wouldn’t double-cross you like that!” Stan said desperately. “Don’t you remember Russia? I was right there next to you the whole time!”

“Well Ford came to rescue us – and he didn’t have any trouble betraying me later!”

“He didn’t! He didn’t betray you! At least, I don’t think so,”

“What?” Carla momentarily paused her struggle in her confusion.

Addi shook her head furiously, turning back to Fiddleford, dimly noticing that her sight was getting blurry.

“And you think I’m not making sense?” she said disbelievingly.

Fiddleford tore his own stunned stare off Stan and Addi could see him scrambling to get his thoughts in order to try to calm the situation down.

“Addi, Stan was away from the FBI for two weeks, makin’ things difficult for us! He couldn’t’ve been spyin’ on Carla too,”

“That’s right!” Stan agreed vehemently.

Addi gritted her teeth and shook her head, vision getting even blurrier. It – it made sense . . . but no, she couldn’t take that chance, not again, it was too risky. What if he was wrong? What if it all went wrong again?

“Addi, Ah promise, we can trust him,”

“I don’t know who to trust anymore!” she burst out, feeling a warm dampness on one of her cheeks.

Fiddleford was lost for words for a moment. Recovering, he said sorrowfully, “He’s not Ford, Addi. Looks a heck of a lot like him, but he’s not,”

“Agent Marks – Adeline – please. I know what it’s like to be so paranoid and scared you don’t what to do, but you aren’t alone,” Carla implored into the quiet.

Fiddleford crossed unimposingly over to her with an expression like he knew what to do again, how to ameliorate the situation. He held out his hand, keeping her focus on him.

Addi’s sight was momentarily overcome by prickling warmth again. Her friend reassuringly patted her shoulder as she passed over the weapon with a breath. The room seemed to sigh.

Stan and Carla relaxed the holds they had on each other.

“I, uh, here Addi, just, sit down for a while. You could use it,” Stan said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he made for Carla’s desk to retrieve the seat in front of it. Addi heard a muttered jeez as he went, but figured he was probably within his rights to that.

∆

Carla glared pointedly at him and he surrendered, going over to get Addi a chair. From his perspective it was understandable that he wasn’t too eager to get near the person who had just threatened him – his heart was still vigorously thumping – but at least Fiddleford had her gun now. She wouldn’t be –

Oh, she definitely wouldn’t be doing that again. As soon as Stan had manoeuvred the chair over to her, Addi slumped into it and he got his first good, clear-headed look at her since entering the room. She looked utterly exhausted, battered and bruised in not just a physical way.

He turned his gaze to Fiddleford, speaking to her and rubbing her back, who looked significantly better but that wasn’t saying much. What the heck had happened? This couldn’t just be because of Ford could it? Well – he glanced at Addi – there was probably a lot to do with him on that front, but he wasn’t going to touch those issues with a ten-foot pole.

Carla exchanged a sympathetic look with him, and explained in an undertone, “The Cipher Wheel more than likely knows who they are, and we’ve been cut off from Oracle Division,”

“What’s Oracle Division?” Stan said blankly.

To his irritation, Carla’s jaw dropped.

“Hey, it’s not like I’m a super-secret spy like the rest of you apparently are, am I?” he huffed. “You might not have noticed, but that means none of you, Ford included, are all that open to me about your super-secret spy stuff,”

“Right, right, yeah.” Carla rubbed her forehead. “Adeline and Fiddleford work for Oracle Division, which is, like, the Cipher Wheel’s arch-enemy. Ultraman and Alex Aluthor style.”

“Wouldn’t the Cipher Wheel be Oracle Division’s arch-enemy? Usually the bad guy’s the arch-enemy,”

“I think they’re probably each other’s arch-enemies,”

“Makes sense. Who are we, then?”

“You can be the damsel in distress,” sniggered Carla.

“What?! Well you’re the useless police chief,”

“Oi!” She poked him in the stomach. Stan surrendered.

He didn’t want to ask this, but he went ahead anyway. Pulling that band-aid off quickly was probably best.

“You didn’t really think I was a mole, did you?”

Carla turned to him quickly, concern in her eyes – which immediately reformed into a flat stare.

“My stress levels have been constantly high since all this began, Stan, and they’ve only gotten more so since I learned that apparently I’ve been under surveillance for who knows how long. I think a second-long paranoid slip-up can be forgiven,”

“You’ve been under surveillance?!” Stan said, voice rising well above their previously hushed tones. I swear, if I ever get my hands on whatever little cretin’s been SPYING on MY GIRL –

Carla winced. “You didn’t know that either?”

“No!”

“Well, I am,” she sighed. Then she stepped closer to him and said seriously, taking his face in her hands, “But I do trust you. I promise,”

“Really?” He had to make sure.

“I’m marrying you, aren’t I?” She grinned.

At that, a flicker of the excitement he’d felt last night returned to him. “Yeah, you are,” he said, a little giddily.

Fiddleford had finished convincing Addi that she was safe. Jeez, things must be so much worse than Stan was getting if that was necessary. Fiddleford stood up from his crouch in front of Addi, and Addi lifted her head out of her hands.

“I’m so sorry Stan,” she said, a harrowed expression on her face.

It really shouldn’t be that easy to get back in his good graces.

“Hey, it’s not like you’re the only person to have ever pulled a gun on me and accused me of treachery.” He dismissed. “And you only wanted to arrest me.”

“Stan, did Ah here ya right before? You don’t think Ford betrayed us?” Fiddleford asked.

“Yeah, how do you figure that?” Carla frowned. “He’s definitely a Cipher Wheel agent.”

“Yeah, he definitely-” he faltered – “was.”

The significance was not lost on anyone.

“Was?” repeated Addi in a low voice.

“Well, he wasn’t when we had to fight our way out of the building. The place was crawling with Cipher Wheel agents, and none of them were acting friendly towards us,”

Carla was the first to start putting it together. “He tried to leave.” She whistled. “Bet that didn’t go over well.”

“I’ve got a bullet wound that says it didn’t,” Stan agreed vehemently, gesturing at his shoulder. Great. Now that he was thinking about it, it was hurting again.

“Damn it!” shouted Addi. “Why did I leave? Why the heck did I leave? Regardless of whose side he was on, I should have still brought him in! Arrested him! What was I thinking?” She demanded of the room at large. Uncomfortably, Stan noticed that she had furious tears brimming in her eyes again. As soon as she felt them she dashed them away.

“Addi-” Started Fiddleford, going to rest a hand on her shoulder. She shook him off.

“I knew something wasn’t adding up, I knew it, and I didn’t listen!” She raged. “And then I – I left!” She shot to her feet, pacing agitatedly, wiping her eyes again, clenching and unclenching her fists. It looked like she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. Stan didn’t think it mattered to her either way. Then what she’d said caught up to him.

She was there with Ford?

Fiddleford and Carla both looked just as surprised at that, so it didn’t seem as though he’d been left out of the loop on this, luckily.

Did he feel happy that Ford had finally gotten a girlfriend? Did he feel angry that she hadn’t stayed with him to help him when Cipher showed up? One look at her face told him that no, he didn’t. She had that covered on her own, but also, it wasn’t like she could have predicted everything that had happened afterwards.

“I just left him there, oh good job Addi, what a flawless plan, threaten to call Oracle Division when you know you can’t get through. He said he cared and then I just left him to be – be attacked, and, and-” Fiddleford grabbed her arm and brought her pacing to a stop, trying to reassure her.

“Addi, it’s not your fault, ya can’t be blamed for drawing the wrong conclusions in this-” he searched for a way to describe it – “this craptastic mess,”

Addi stared at him, then started nodding heatedly, less angry at herself and more at Ford. Stan could tell because he was feeling a little like that too.

“That knucklehead. He was convinced the Cipher Wheel were the good guys! Which means . . .” Her resolve crumbled as soon as it had appeared. “He wasn’t expecting an attack. He didn’t know what was happening either,”

Coming forward, Carla patted her shoulder as comfortingly as she could.

“Probably not,” were her wise words of reassurance. Stan winced. Even he could’ve come up with something more helpful.

“But I don’t think he’d blame you,” she added, looking at Stan for confirmation.

“Ford? You kidding?” He laughed slightly and told Addi, “No way. I mean, he’s the one who’s been telling me to ‘think critically’ since the ninth grade.”

Carla rolled her eyes at him.

Addi kneaded her forehead. “I should have been there, I should have helped him . . .”

“Addi, ya can’t feel guilty. It won’t help in the least, and we need ta keep moving forward, figuring this out,” Fiddleford admonished.

“Easier said than done,” Addi told him bitterly.

“Addi,” Fiddleford said, and there was a change in his tone, “Ah should be feelin’ guiltier than you.” He was clearly making a great effort to force the words out. “If it weren’t fer me, Stanford wouldn’t even have that memory gun,”

Fiddleford looked like he was really suffering there, forehead creased and anguish rolling off him, so Stan felt a little bad that he was completely lost again.

“Memory gun?” he said blankly.

“What Ford was running all over the world finding materials for,” Carla informed him.

“Really?! Another thing everyone knew but me?!” Stan exploded.

“Shhh! This is emotional!”

“Ah could have stopped him then and there, as soon as he showed me those blueprints, as soon as he told me what it was.” Fiddleford soldiered on. “But . . . Ah honestly thought it wasn’t that bad an idea,”

“You what?” said Addi, aghast.

“Ah thought it might help!” Fiddleford said, stricken. “Ya’d be able to get at the truth so much easier if you could see people’s memories – and the memory gun would allow that! It replicates them and keeps a copy in a detachable cylinder. With it, the justice system would be better, corruption could be found out sooner – the erasin’ part might even help with traumatic experiences!”

“That’s just about the unhealthiest thing I’ve ever heard,” Stan stated.

Fiddleford looked at him in mingled defensiveness and shame. “Well, Ah suppose it hardly matters now. I didn’t realise he was workin’ for Cipher, and here we are now,”

“Fidds, you can’t blame yourself,” Addi muttered after a moment.

“Exactly,” Carla agreed, pointedly fixating on her. “It’s useless, and we’ve still got a crisis to deal with.” She squeezed Addi’s shoulder and gave Fiddleford a reassuring pat on his.

“You’re right.” Addi glanced at Fiddleford, and he gave a weary nod, rubbing his eyes under his glasses as if it would give him new sight and focus.

“You’re right,” she repeated, “we need to deal with this first. We need to stop blaming ourselves and start working through this: or better yet, blaming the people actually behind this. The ones who are after us – and Ford!” Pacing decisively again, Addi smacked her fist into her palm, adopting the air of a commanding officer.

“We need a way to contact Oracle Division. We need to find out if Jheselbraum is alright, and where Ford is. We need to figure out what the Cipher Wheel plans to do next, keep out of their grip, and take. Them. Down!” She punctuated each word with another punch, reaching the end of her pacing track and whirling to face them again.

“Are you with me?” she demanded fiercely.

Personally, Stan thought it was getting a bit dramatic, but other than that, if it meant he got to hit more of the people who had manipulated, hurt, and tried to kill his brother, for years, leaving him a terrified, desperate, neurotic mess who might well be permanently on the edge of a panic attack right now for all Stan knew, who was deluded into thinking nowhere was safe for him, and who almost certainly was not capable of protecting himself never mind Stan (seriously, what had he been thinking?), then hell yeah. He was with her.

“Then let’s kick some Cipher butt!”

The door opened behind her.

“HA!” Addi shouted, slamming her fist into the intruder’s face and knocking him flat to the floor.

“Oooooh,” winced Stan, Carla, and Fiddleford.

Horrified, Addi helped the man up, frantically saying, “Holy crap, I am so sorry!”

“You okay, Wexler?” Carla said.

“I’m fine,” Wexler grumbled, straightening up and shooting Addi a very disgruntled glare. As he did so, he let his hand fall away from his face.

Stan could feel the room freeze as he, Fiddleford, and Addi got a good look at his face. He was suddenly really glad that he had kept looking at that list of Cipher Wheel symbols for a little while longer after Carla had stopped.

There was no way that “X” over Wexler’s eye could just coincidentally look like one of them. Especially not if both the Oracle Division agents thought the same.

In less than a second, the FBI’s spy was laid out on the floor again, unconscious this time from a quick jab from Stan.

“What was that for?!” Exclaimed Carla, leaping to the still-open door and shutting it as quickly and quietly as she could.

“He’s on the list of Cipher Wheel agents,” Fiddleford explained hurriedly. “That scar looks exactly like one of the signatures,”

“Wexler’s the spy?” The expressions that crossed Carla’s face transitioned smartly through surprise, disbelief, glee, guilt, and acceptance. “Wow. I didn’t think it was possible for me to like him even less.” She made for her desk, pulling a pair of handcuffs out and wasting no time in fixing her former partner’s hands behind his back. Stan knew Carla too well to think he was imagining it when she seemed to relish in pressing Wexler’s face none too gently into the unvacuumed floor near her desk - not that he was objecting. Stan was gritting his teeth just at the thought of this man watching Carla in everything she did for so long.

“This whole time,” she muttered self-depreciatingly. Then Addi cleared her throat and gave her a meaningful look.

“Yeah, I thought you were done blaming yourselves,” Stan reminded Carla.

The corner of her mouth twitched as she stood up.

“‘Yourselves’?” she inquired.

“Yep. It’s not like I’ve done anything I need to blame myself for,”

Not true. There was plenty Stan could start feeling awful about, starting with how if he had paid more attention to the state his brother was in he might not have let himself be drugged and Ford might be here with him now. But if there was one thing he had learned, it was that shit happened sometimes. And you just had to deal with it and keep going as best you could – at least until you were in a safe enough space not to do anything more you’d regret, if you really couldn’t help it.

“Alright,” Carla said decisively. “Now that we’re all-” she glanced at Stan, then gave a half-shrug – “pretty much on the same page, we should start sorting this out. Until Wexler wakes up and I can interrogate him, I think the best way to find Ford is to announce him as missing, alert the police and the media, and get a manhunt going. Unless anyone has any other-?”

“Wait a minute!” Stan interrupted. “I haven’t told you happened when I found Ford.”

They waited expectantly. He turned specifically to address Addi and Fiddleford.

“So the bad news is, Bill Cipher was there,”

Carla gasped. Fiddleford’s jaw dropped and Addi went dead white.

“Are you sure it was him?” demanded Carla, recovering – although she was standing ramrod straight, as though three hundred electric volts had just zapped through her.

Stan thought about the snarl and the burning gaze he’d seen on the man’s face, the strange weapon he’d been so close to pulling the trigger of on Ford.

“Yeah. I’m sure,”

“So what’s the good news?” said Fiddleford, tapping his fingers on his leg in agitation.

“I decked him and he didn’t get me back,”

Now that he said it, it didn’t really even out the massive downside it was to have Bill Cipher himself in the city and after them. After Ford.

Not that he hadn’t been feeling that way before, but all of a sudden Stan really, really needed his brother back beside him.

∆

He had made it to the safe house. That was something.

Not forever.

For long enough. Bill did not know about it, and neither would Ford if it had not been for a passing interaction with a CIA operative who had met him inside it once.

Everything he would need for the next few hours was in the bathroom.

He’s in my head.

He would be able to lay low for a little while longer – afterwards, that was.

Unwittingly, Ford swallowed and blinked some sweat out of his eyes.

There would be enough time to recover and figure out his next move.

He almost laughed. What the hell was he supposed to do next? He couldn’t avoid Bill forever, Oracle Division thought he was a threat, and even if he accepted help, which he wouldn’t, that would place whoever helped him in danger. He would not contact Stan. He would not contact Addi. He would not contact Fiddleford.

He’s in my head.

Ford faltered. He had told Stan that he would call him as soon as he could. If he didn’t, he knew his brother would be going half out of his mind with worry before long, and he would probably do his best to find Ford regardless of what Ford himself wanted. In that case, he would call Stan and – somehow – convince him to stay away and to stay safe.

He’s in my head.

This was useless. All of this thinking was to do with . . . after. And there was not going to be an after unless he stopped stalling and got this over with.

The scalpel trembled in his hand. Ford shook himself out of a staring contest with his own reflection.

He’s in my head.

Breathing deeply, he felt again for the almost intangible texture of scar tissue at the base of his skull.

Not for much longer, he promised himself.

#gravity falls #fanfiction #my writing #the cipher conspiracy #spy au #double o sixer au #stanley pines #adeline marks #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #carla mccorkle #addiford #starla

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mrevaunit42 · 6 years

Text

Butterfly, Star Butterfly (Kingsman Au part 1)

hello everyone, Mr.E here after a seriously long time of not writing full stories. Sorry, life has been pretty chaotic for me and draining. I’m fine but it’s been hard to sit down and actually write a story but here I am with my newest story and letting you know despite the fact Halloween is over, I am still going to write a few stories for starcoween (a totally silly event I made up forever ago) After that i might do a part 2 to this, might give out some birthday gifts I owe. Not really sure yet but we shall see.

Story Prompt: Star Butterfly is a young woman that works for Disney, a humble yet successful shop located in her hometown of Mewni that sells various merchandise based on their popular retellings of classic fairy tales. At least that’s what they want you to think. In truth, they are an agency operating at the highest levels of discretion, protecting the world from any and all threats but this time Mewni’s the target and the secret organization is going to need some help.

I absolutely love the film Kingsman. For those who don’t know it is a British spy film that’s kind of a mix of my fair lady, James Bond and some playful satire of genre. and I couldn’t resist making an au of it. that being said, it is a rated R film so don’t watch it if you’re not supposed to! Seriously just read this story and wait. Oh btw there is some cussing in this story but that’s it really I didn’t follow the plot of the movie one to one and it’s more on a personal level than it was in the film. and Yes I totally poked fun at the codenames and Disney.

so that’s it for me. Have an amazing week! I will try to finish either Monster Hunter Marco or the corpse bride au this week along with the next two nova chapters. I was also thinking of putting up some au ideas I came up in case somebody needed some ideas or inspiration for drawing or writing and the spiderman homecoming au notes that me and my good friend @hains-mae came up with if anyone is curious. Not sure yet. oh btw she’s taking commissions if anyone is interested. I hope you enjoy the story and have a good one!

notification squad: @nerdymetalhead @hipster-rapunzel @artgirllullaby @ladyxgilex @thefandombytes @minthia-ren @burstingamerworld @isolated-frequencies

“and in other news, Lucitor electronics is proud to present….”

Click. Silence filled the void left behind the radio.

Star Butterfly stared longingly outside the cab window, the soft pitter patter of the rain echoed dully against metal was a soft, relaxing music to the 25 year old.

When was the last time she simply drove for the sake of driving? When did she last roam the streets of her beloved Mewni without the constraint of staring at minutes tick away? When was the last time she wore something she chose of her own free will rather than an obligated, yet admittedly stylish, uniform.

She was wearing her usual outfit for work: black blazer jacket with a white long sleeved collared shirt underneath, an elegant pink tie alongside practical black work pants and matching brogues loafers.

“Miss?” her cabbie driver called to her softly “Miss, you have phone call from your mother.”

“Oh!” Star slipped out her self imposed dazed and reach into her jacket pocket “Thank you John, I’ll take it….”

Star blinked quizzically upon realizing she was staring at her own reflection who held an equally surprised face: Her driver had already rose the divider between them so she could take the call in private.

“What a considerate bloke” Star murmured to herself, unfolding the thick black rimmed square glasses and slipping them over her eyes “I suppose I should give him a raise.”

“Give who a raise dear? The driver?” A familiar yet controlled voice called out to her as a ghostly image appeared in the center of the spacious vehicle.

Even the cartoonish greenish blue tint of her mother’s image did nothing to dampen the woman’s rather imposing stature: Full black coat, collared shirt, vest and tie. A long business skirt given her old fashion tendencies and unnecessarily high heels. Her periwinkle blue hair wrapped in a practical braid.

“I assure you Agent Rapunzel he is well paid for his services” Moon blinked in confusion, her eyes narrowing at Star’s surroundings “You’re not at the shop?”

“Well mum…” Star began only to falter when Moon rose a stern finger.

“Names Agent. You never know who could be listening.”

Star rolled her eyes, earning her a scowl from her mother.

“Headmistress Aurora, we’re on highly secure channels. I highly doubt anyone is currently listening.”

Moon shook her head disappointingly “Spoken like a true agent. When you get to be in my position and age, you’ll find some caution is wise.”

“Yes Mu….Headmistress. I apologize. I’m running late to shop on the count that I took a bit of a nap. Just came in from America you know. Lovely town by the name of Echo Cre…”

“I’m aware where you have been Agent Rapunzel” Moon cut in “I’ve read your mission report. Excellent work.”

“Thank you”

“Try not to be late from now on. Grumpy is a bit on edge lately.”

“Lately?” Star rose an eyebrow.

Moon pursued her lips “More than usually. Do not antagonize the poor woman love.”

“Swear on my honor she won’t hear a word out of me gov.”

Moon frowned, torn between chastising her daughter once more or simply leaving it at that.

With a flick, her mother’s image vanished from view and Star was left with her once again empty cabbie. Star remained silent, rubbing her eyes tiredly as the rain filled the void with its melody once more.

Star wasn’t too surprised the shop was still fairly busy despite the less than ideal weather conditions. Everyone near and far wanted to buy something from the humble yet widely successful Disney store.

Not that Star could blame them: Stunning outfits, well crafted toys and high quality items based on their fairy tale inspired line of merchandise. It brought in a pretty penny and was a convenient cover for the memory of a single person to blur among the countless people that could be found within on any given day.

Star patted the tired cashier reassuringly on the shoulder as she made her way past into the break room which was empty save a lone, still steaming mug of coffee sitting on the table.

“We need to really cut back the hours” Star muttered to herself, sliding the cup off to the side and gently pressing the underside of the table “Poor dearies are running themselves ragged.” A small compartment hidden within frame flipped into existence and began to boot up its programming.

“Please remain still” a smooth, calming robotic voice asked politely while a soft green hue softly basked Star in its glow. Star complied with the machine’s request, sitting as unmoving as stone as the sensor began scanning the room with a near invisible beam.

“Identity confirmed” The voice spoke cheerily “Agent Rapunzel, please stand by”

Star rolled her eyes as the entire room slowly descended into further into the earth, the flimsy painted walls of the break room becoming smoothly elegant granite sides.

“This is so bloody unnecessary” Star muttered to herself, waiting patiently for the elevator “Whose bright idea was to turn an entire room into an elevator? A closet would’ve suffice. Typical spies.”

“I know right? It’s almost like they were overcompensating for something” a familiar voice jokingly teased “Spies, right?”

“Spies” Star nodded agreement, rising to her feet and enveloping her fellow, similarly dressed agent in a firm hug “How are you Jackie?”

Jackie clicked her tongue “Agent Rapunzel, did you just break protocol?”

“Only if you sell me out Agent Ariel” Star replied with a grin.

Jackie gave a good nature smirk “Like I would Agent Rapunzel. How are you?”

“I’m alright” Star lied “And yourself? How was Japan?”

Jackie gave a noncommittal shrug “You know how it is: No time to see the sights and there on business only.”

Star felt the twinge of longing and for a moment, the mask fell.

“Star?” Jackie asked quizzically “Are you okay?”

“Jackie….” Star began slowly “Do…you miss it?”

“It?” Jackie was confused what Star was getting at “I’m not sure I’m following….”

Star let out a defeated sigh “Don’t worry about. Just a rouge thought. Shall we pop in and see what’s bothering Grumpy?”

Star brushed past Jackie, ignoring her friend’s concerned gaze.

Grumpy was not grumpy at Star’s tardiness: She was furious about it.

Margaret Skullnick, codename Grumpy, was an older, trollish woman who never smiled in a day of her life. Unlike the more traditional Headmistress, Grumpy was far more lax with her appearance: overly bright red hair, two golden hoops on her ears, built like a muscular tank and had unnaturally pointed teeth.

“You are late Rapunzel” she glared deeply with growl.

Star rose her hands defensively “Ariel was here, you could’ve started without me.”

Jackie shook her head “Don’t drag me into this, I just work here.”

“Sit. NOW” Skullnick snarled, barring her teeth viciously.

Star and Jackie practically dropped into their seats.

“We have a problem” Skullnick began, making her way over to the monitor hung over the fireplace.

“Don’t we always?” Star jested

Skullnick ignored her “The criminal underworld is murmuring. Loudly I might add.”

Jackie and Star shared a worried glance. While both knew what the code-phase meant, neither had ever expected to ever actually hear the word spoken outloud. The two women straightened up in their seats at once

“Murmuring?” Jackie leaned closer “What could possibly cause that?”

“We don’t know” Skullnick answered truthfully “But the fact remains that every single mole, sleeper agent and informant has been relying the same information to us is troubling. Someone is preparing for something big and for the first time in recorded history, we haven’t the foggiest idea what it could be.”

Skullnick tapped at away at the tablet in her hands. Mewni, in all its splendid glory, appeared before them.

“What we do know is many of the murmurs repeat Mewni over and over again. It is more than possible this is the target.”

“Home?” Star rose to her feet “We need every available agent on the case! If the underground murmurs, I cannot imagine what horrible plan someone has set in motion.”

“That’s just it Agent Rapunzel” Skullnick stared directly at Star “I’m looking at all available agents.”

Jackie and Star looked at one another.

“No matter how serious the situation is” Skullnick explained “The fact remains we still have other operations that must be done. Threats to national and international security do not just come one at a time you know and all we have are rumors. Until solid proof is obtained, we cannot simply pull agents from actual credible threats.”

The girls nodded grimly.

“Go to the ground” Skullnick told them “Use every resource we have available. The informants are scouring the city for clues but so far no luck. If this threat is real, then someone is going to an awfully lot of trouble to ensure no one has all the details. And once you have a lead, no matter how small, contact me. I rather be safe than wrong. Understood?”

“Yes Grumpy” The two spoke in unison

“Dismissed.”

“Mewni under attack?” Star muttered to herself in a daze “That’s a lot more terrifying than I’d like to admit.”

“Agreed” Jackie nodded “Do you think the threat is real?”

Star pursed her lips “I don’t know. I want to believe mother is simply overreacting but I’ve never been through such a short briefing before. We don’t even have leads”

“Admittedly that is highly concerning” Jackie scratched her chin “We better work quickly. The sooner we discover or debunk this, the sooner we can have a strategy ready.”

“Alright, I’ll head over to the informant’s house” Star began as stepped towards the exit “A fresh pair of eyes may be needed in case they missed anything…umm do you remember where they live? I swear they keep changing addresses every other month. It’s so….”

Star turned back to her fellow agent only to find Jackie fidgeting uneasily, guilt dancing in her eyes.

“You know” Jackie spoke softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear “Maybe I should go to the informant? I mean I haven’t seen them in such a long time and it’s pretty rude of me….”

“Jackie….”

Jackie bit her lip as she rubbed her sleeve anxiously.

“I…might know a guy who could help us” she murmured uneasily.

“That’s great!” Star felt a wave of relief wash over her “when can you meet up with him darling?”

Jackie remained quiet, her eyes downcast and forlorn.

“Jackie?” Star placed a comforting hand on her shoulder “What is it love? What’s the matter?”

Jackie took a deep, calming breath “He’s my ex. A bloke by the name Marco Diaz….”

“Oh….” Star muttered dumbly before the familiarity of the name hit her full force “….oh…”

Star remembered now where she heard the name before: Marco was Jackie’s boyfriend back from a few years ago when the two of them were aspiring Disney trainees. He ran with some troublemakers and did some odd jobs for unsavory people but on the whole meant well and was trying to leave his checkered past behind him. As far as she could tell, Jackie was rather happy with him. If everything had gone according to plan, Jackie might’ve married him one day…..

But fate had other plans in store. Being a Disney agent came with a heavy cost and that cost was a personal life. Marco grew increasingly suspicious of Jackie’s absences and trips but telling him the truth was out of the question so Jackie was left with no choice but to break up with him, claiming college was just too overwhelming for her to handle both it and a steady boyfriend.

Jackie used to lament how painful it was to watch his hurt face twist into a stony indifference and while she finally moved on from him, she couldn’t shake the guilt she felt about breaking his heart. He hadn’t deserved it but Jackie was left with no other choice.

“I can’t see him Star” Jackie admitted, tears lightly forming in her eyes “I’ve done far too much to him already, asked too much of him….I can’t put him through anymore…..”

“It’s alright. I’ll speak to him, alright? Do you know where I can find him?”

Star frowned at the locationn before her, eying the half cracked windows and the faded brick exterior warily

“Drunkard’s Haven” Star read the sign distastefully “I should’ve hazard a guess it would be a dive. I reckon I’ll run into an unruly lot. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Star held a firm grip on her umbrella as she took a deep breath in and pushed open the door.

The interior of the bar was dim while a light hazy smoke wafted through the air. The illuminations of various signs promoting drinks, teams and other goods. Empty mugs and half slumped, dazed drunks filled the tables. While certainly not the best pub Star has ever been in, she had seen far worse.

Star strolled up to the counter confidently, ignoring the shuffling of drunken zombies who were slowly taking notice of her disturbance.

“Hello!” Star gave a cheery wave.

The bartender awkwardly returned the greetings.

“I don’t usually get your lot around here” the bartender spoke bluntly.

“What, pretty ladies?”

“No, posh folks.” he gruffly replied.

“Ah….” Star gracelessly replied “Well your lovely pub is tucked away in some off beaten street, bit hard to come by.”

“What will you have miss?”

“Information actually. I’m looking for someone.”

It was amazing how a simple sentence could alter one’s environment: What was once a relaxed stupor became tense and suspicious as the drunks slowly shook themselves awake.

The bartender’s eyes narrowed distrustfully “And why would a pretty thing such as yourself be looking for someone?”

Star beamed “An old friend of mine. Heard he was wondering around these parts. Figured he might fancy a bit of stroll for old times sake.”

“And who…” the bartender rose an eyebrow “are you looking for specifically?”

“A bloke named Marco Diaz.”

Star fought the instinct to simply strike at the now fully awaken drunks, their eyes wide with anger and greed as they mindlessly shuffled to their feet.

“It seems I’ve said the magic words” Star mused, glancing over the other occupants of the building carefully “Bit in trouble is he?”

“You could say that.” The bartender murmured with a glare “The local patron is not happy with the quality of his services. Mr. Diaz owes him a bit of scratch which is not including the product he was told to deliver. The fact that Mr. Diaz hasn’t been returning our boss’s phone calls is a bit concerning. They had a previous agreement that your friend has not been honoring.”

“Ah” Star gave a strained smile “I can see how that could certainly paint him in such a negative view. Well I rather guess I should be off no? I didn’t mean to so rudely awaken all your customers.”

“Actually” the bartender spoke with a menacing edge as the others closed in “Do you mind if we have a bit of a chat about your friend Marco?”

Star sighed dramatically as the dull thud of the door’s lock being clicked into place echoed through the now quiet pub.

“I rather not” Star grin charmingly

“You don’t have a choice love.”

Star shook her head disappointingly “Not respecting a lady’s decision? Rather brutish of you.”

“Sorry darling. We’re not much on manners here.”

Star clicked her tongue “Manners maketh man. Ever heard that before?”

Silence was their answer.

“Well then” Star cracked her fingers “Let me show you how to be proper gentlemen.”

It was satisfying to watch the bartender’s face slip from cocky smugness to full blown panic as Star lashed out, gripping the back of his head tightly and smashing it against the counter. Bartender staggered backwards, a river of blood dribbling down his face and staining his clothes as he weakly clutched at his now broken nose.

“Rule the first” Star began, pivoting on the balls of her feet and driving her fist into the nearest unsuspecting throat “Always respect people. It’ll get you further in life than if you’re an arsehole”

One of the drunks lunged at her but the seasoned agent hooked the handle of her umbrella over his wrist and dragged his fist into another of his comrades and sent them both reeling to the floor.

“Oi what’s the matter with you bitch?!” the nearest drunk rambled at her before pulling back his fist.

“A true gentleman never curses at a lady” Star replied with a cocky grin while she dug her knee as far as she could into his stomach “in fact a true gentleman never would need to curse. Much more colorful ways to express your anger and frustration darlings.”

Star stepped back, narrowly avoiding the knife that swung into view as she twirled her umbrella upright like a sword.

Her foe stumbled uneasily, brandishing his deadly weapon in a rather unimpressive fashion.

“A true gentleman” Star went on, effortlessly dodging an unfocused stab sent her way

“also carries himself with grace and respect not only for himself but for others as well”

The drunkard’s attack were wide and too far to actually threaten the secret agent who playfully batted the blade away with her pseudo-sword. Her opponent growled furiously but Star’s laidback defense proved too much for the inebriated man.

Star rolled her eyes before delivering a solid whack to his skull and rendered him unconscious.

“Well then loves” Star said with a smug satisfaction “I best be off. Nothing here but a waste of time and effort.”

Star’s ear twitched as the dull sound of metal scraping wood filled the air and for the first time since the battle began, her instincts took hold.

Star flung her umbrella wide open, clutching the hilt as tightly as she could while making herself as small of a target as possible. The video feed sprung to life in a strange muted tint. She noticed the bartender lifting something to eye level but Star had little time to hazard a guess when she heard a deep click and a deafening bang.

Star was nearly knocked off her feet as her shield violently shuddered, the image blurred and static for a moment before resuming its live feed of what was occurring in front of the weaponized rain deterrent

The muggy feed showed the bartender giving a condescending smirk her way, pumping the shotgun in his hand for another shot.

Star held on as the metal joints of the umbrella groaned under the next volley, the smooth clothed surface becoming tattered and worn as an empty cartridge hollowly clattered against the floor.

“You” Another shot, the umbrella began to bend inward “Bitch” half the feed froze “You think you could come in here” Star could hear the fabric being ripped to shreds “and just knock us around silly? Well you got another thing….”

Star was saved by the most unlikely of sounds: The gentle rapping of a fist against the bolted pub door.

The bartender jumped, spontaneously aiming toward and pulled the trigger without remembering he hadn’t loaded the next shell into the gun. A satisfying hollow click was the most beautiful noise Star could ever imagine.

Star wasted no time: She flung her near useless gadget to the side and made a mad dash directly towards the fumbling bartender, his hands nervously attempting to load more ammo into his useless weapon.

His eyes went wide with fear as Star approached and in a last ditch attempt to protect himself, he held the barrel tightly and howled in agony as he recoiled from the still burning hot metal.

Star tried not to enjoy herself too much as she clobbered him with a solid hook, sending the dazed bartender sprawling into the wall of alcoholic drinks. He, along with his products, tumbled to the floor and remained still.

“That” Star murmured softly, wiping the nonexistent dirt from her suit “concludes today’s lesson.”

Star blew a strain out of her hair, picking up her discarded umbrella as she strolled towards the door, body tense for whatever lay on the other side.

She undid the bolt slowly and calmly opened the door

“Oi Ralphy, about time you open the door mate, was near freezing my arse out…you’re not Ralphy.”

Star’s heart leapt a little without warning as she found herself face to face with her target.

The police photos did not do the young man before her justice: In his mug shot he wearing plain clothes, his brown hair disheveled as his brown eyes glared angrily at the person photographing him. In person, his brown hair was a little longer and tucked under his black beanie. He wore a white undershirt which was covered by a red hoodie which was further covered by a simple black jacket. Laid back jeans and poorly choice sneakers for the current weather rounded out his attire and while Star was certainly unsure if this was the very same Marco Diaz from the photo, her glasses compared the two images and confirmed a match.

Marco shifted nervously under Star’s silent gaze “Umm…sorry luv, I was confusing you for another bloke.” he scratched his neck sheepishly “A-are you lost? Because I’ve never seen any woman willingly come in here before. The environment is a bit toxic and stale of piss ale, misogyny and outdated ideals.”

The soft pattering of rain was the only response Marco received

“Listen darling” Marco whispered with a hint of concern in his voice “These aren’t exactly good people. I reckon it’s best if you move along and pretend you didn’t see nuthing.”

“Mr. Diaz I assume?” Star asked with a preppy edge.

Marco’s jaw twitched anxiously “….maybe….depends on whose looking.”

“I would like to have a bit of sit and chat with you. If that’s alright.”

Marco shook his head, unable to keep the displeasure from his face while he chuckled “Yeah, see about that…Umm I’m a bit unfamiliar with you and you are pretty but you’re a bit too posh for my taste. Look, I just need to pop in for a sec and talk to Ralphy about an extension.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Diaz” Star replied with a matter of fact tone “You have your extension.”

Star noticed Marco’s frame tense, his jaw locked as Star gently pulled open the door all the way through, gesturing inward in a playful manner.

“Oh that’s not fucking good.” Marco stared dumbfounded at the bodies that littered the floor, the low pained moans that wailed from within.

Marco locked eyes with Star, completely unnerved by her cheerful smile and relaxed posture.

“Well Marco?” Star gave him a flirty smile “Fancy a bit of a date?”

Marco bit his lip, queasily swaying from side to side before breaking into a run.

“I’m pretty sure what you did qualified as assault.”

Star clicked her tongue disappointingly, her eyes rascally as Marco squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

“I am hurt you didn’t want to take me out Marco” Star’s tone was conversational yet amused

“Well you’re a bit 6’s and 7's” Marco replied in a tense tone, rubbing his sore arm as his eyes darted around for anyone who could help but the cafe’s patrons were preoccupied with staying warm and what delicious meal did they want to try next than noticing the hostage situation before them .

“Hi!” Marco nearly jumped out of his skin as the waiter greeted them “What will we be having today?”

“Usual for me” Star grinned happily “and you honey, what would you like?”

Marco looked at Star, glanced at the waiting waiter then back to Star once again.

Was this a trap? A joke? Was the waiter in on whatever this was? Was everyone else? What the hell did he get himself caught up in? Was Ralphy going to blame him for crazy face’s actions? How the hell was he supposed to pay off his debt now? He was in some serious sh…

“Sir?” The waiter politely interrupted his train of thoughts “Your order?”

Marco stared blankly at the waiter “The usual….I mean her usual, I don’t usually come in to places like this. No offense.”

“None taken” The waiter rolled his eyes before disappearing into the kitchen.

“So whose on your payroll?” Marco asked breathlessly, hands clutching the edges of the table tightly “These your people? Gonna bloody kill me without a second thought? I don’t what you think I’m caught up in but I didn’t mess with no one.”

“Really?” Star seemed unmoved by Marco’s claims “Because according to your file, you’ve been arrested several times for assault, trespassing, breaking and entering and disorderly conduct.”

Marco pursed his lips “Yous with the bobbies or something? Look, I haven’t done anything. Whatever you think I did, I didn’t. After the last time, I got the message loud and clear: Stay on the straight and narrow or go to jail and I ain’t doing hard time because some crazy got me mixed up for someone else.”

Star leaned back into her seat “What did you need extension for?”

Marco’s mouth tightened “That’s a bit of personal business I’m afraid luv. And if you ain’t a cop, I’m not saying a bloody word.”

“Marco, I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me? By getting a confession out of me?” Marco snarled quietly “I ain’t going to jail just because you mixing up crooks and me.”

“Marco” Star whispered gently

“….” Marco remained silent, torn between fact and lies.

“Look” Star brushed her hair behind her ear “I’m not a cop. I need help with something but if I can help you out too, I don’t mind.”

Marco shifted anxiously, his voice low and subdued “Alright. So there’s a local….sponsor who likes to trade money for favors…..take this here, drop that there, move this across town, just….stuff.”

“Mhm” Star nodded but said nothing.

“As you can no doubt tell by my outstanding record” Marco went on “I’m having a bit of trouble coming up with the scratch I need for college. So I figured one…tiny little…delivery wouldn’t hurt….”

“Except it never made it, did it Marco?”

Marco gulped fearfully “I tried. I swear I tried but I was running out options. You high and mighty types judge us effortlessly without a care why we do what we do. I just wanted a clean life but evidently it was too much to ask for and now I’m up shit creek without a boat. I owe money I don’t have to a person you don’t want to be owing to and I got no way to pay it back. And college?”

Marco scoffed dismissively

“That’s more of a far off dream than seeing Jackie again.”

“Jackie?” Star asked curiously.

Marco’s face flushed red “Don’t you worry about that. Look, I don’t know what you were expecting looking for me but I ain’t got anything for you and I doubt you got anything for me.”

Star felt a surge of panic as Marco began to rise from his chair, his defeated weary face tugging at Star’s heartstrings and before she could help herself, the words came tumbling out of her mouth.

“I can get you the money!”

Star mentally smacked herself for blurting it out but it had done the trick: Marco stood there, a mixture of disbelief yet intrigue etched onto his face.

“You? You don’t even know how much I need bruv.” Marco scoffed yet remained still

“Take a seat and find out.”

Marco bit his cheek, unable to choose between the sweet temptation of the door and the alluring of the pretty stranger.

“Alright” Marco relented as he slowly returned to his seat “let’s say I do buy into this whole your my way out of this shitstorm I’m in cuz. If you ain’t a cop and you ain’t a crook, just what are you?”

“A Disney agent” Star replied with the smuggest of grins.

“A what now?” Marco shook his head out of its stupor “Hang on, you taking a piss? You ’re telling me you work at that glorified fairy tale shop what sells those cutesy little knick knacks and thingamajigs to fawning tourists?”

“Yes.” Star straightened in her chair “We belong to a secret organization that operates at the highest levels of discretion. Our mission is to ensure the safety and safeguard the well being of international security and stability of our planet.”

“You….are…mental” Marco rubbed his eyes tiredly “A'ight I’m done. I don’t know what sales pitching you trying to sell or if you’re having a bit fun with me but I’m done. I got far bigger problems than a mental polish girl and her make believe…”

“Here Mr. Diaz” Star gently removed her glasses and slid them over to him “Take the red pill. It’s a real eye opener”

Marco raised an eyebrow “Really? Outdated jokes luv? You’re lucky yous cute or else you wouldn’t be getting fa….”

Marco’s jaw slackened, his eyes wide as he gazed at the world through Star’s lens but he didn’t see the beautiful 25 year old woman sitting across from him, knowing smirk and gaze but rather a series of complex codes, phrases, jargon that made no sense to him. In the upper left hand corner was a live video feed of someone narrowly avoiding gunfire and next to that the glasses focused on Star’s face, zooming and enhancing as they began to run a facial recognition scan.

“Agent Rapunzel?” Marco murmured dumbfounded before blindly groping the air as Star snatched back her glasses.

“Proof enough Mr. Diaz?”

Marco stared blankly at the secret agent, unable to wrap his mind around what just occurred.

“……why do you need me?” Marco asked bluntly “If you these James Bond types, why you gotta go looking through the gutter for help?”

“Simply put” Star sighed anxiously “Something big is going to happen here on Mewni. Soon but aside the fact we’re getting reports indicating Mewni is the intended target, we have nothing else.”

“So you need crooks who’ve got their ear to the ground to help you” Marco nodded in understanding “Why me though? I ain’t exactly the most thuggish and my record isn’t the worst compared to some other blokes.”

Star pursed her lips, conflicted between telling a lie or revealing Jackie had sent her his way.

“Never mind”

Star blinked, unsure what just happened.

“It doesn’t matter” Marco told her “Either you did your homework, someone just told you I was the biggest loser in town or you just lucked out…..so what do you need from me?”

“Well Marco, heard any big scores coming in?”

“Big scores?” Marco rolled his eyes “You spies are really out of touch with reality. No one calls them that. You might as well be running down the streets screaming how you got your life savings in your pocket! See how long that’ll last you.”

“Ooookay” Star frowned “Have you heard anything big coming in?”

“Nah uh princess, that’s not how this works.”

Star frowned “Then how does this work Mr. Diaz?”

“…I want out.”

Star stared at Marco, unsure what exactly he meant by that.

“Mean…” Marco coughed hesitantly “I don’t want…this…” he gestured to himself pathetically “…Anymore. I….I don’t want none of this. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder in case some thugs happen to stumble on me. I miss visiting my parents. You know how hard it is not to drive their street and check up on them outta fear some nasty blokes are casing place, waiting for you to show up?”

Star thought of her mother and how often she was tucked away in some sort of secret location that only she and Miss Skullnick knew. She thought of the last time she actually saw her mother, hugged her, talked to her more beyond the scope of business.

Star gave a short but understanding nod.

“The money I’ll figure out” Marco told her gently “This ain’t the first time I’ve had to make up some scratch I ain’t got but college….they’re ain’t going to let me in, not without some recommendation and if you being them cloak and dagger companies.”

“Wait a minute” Star cut in immediately “You can’t just…”

“Whoa, chill princess” Marco waved his hand “I didn’t mean make me one of them types or nothing. Shit, I doubt I’d be kept alive two seconds during your job. But you gotta have some pull right? Ways to make them posh academic types look the other way?”

Star shifted anxiously in her seat: She did in fact have a way to grant Marco’s request. However, it wasn’t as simple as calling the school of his choice and waving her I’m a secret agent privilege but rather…

“Do we have a deal?”

Star bit her lip. This was the closest lead she was going to get and while she would normally play for the country card, she had a sneaking suspicion Marco wouldn’t care if something happened to Mewni. Too many bad memories….

“Well do we have a deal?”

Star took a deep breath “Deal: You help stop whatever is going to happen and I’ll help you get a better life.”

“I felt like we’ve done this before” Marco muttered under his breath before offering his hand to Star.

Star stared at the gesture, unsure what exactly Marco wanted from her.

“Handsake? Ever heard of one miss posh?”

“Oh….oh” Star nodded in understanding “Of course I have Mr. Diaz, I was just confused why…”

“I don’t want you double crossing me” Marco interrupted hastily with a nervous tinge to his words “Promise me.”

“…Marco…”

“Promise me.”

Star felt guilt shift uneasily in the pit of her stomach at his plead, the vulnerability in his voice. He was at the end of his rope and he was literally taken a leap of faith on a complete stranger.

The wrong stranger.

“Okay Marco…” Star whispered softly “I promise.”

Marco’s eyes were no less guarded but his body visibly relaxed upon Star shaking his outstretched hand.

Marco took a deep calming breath “Okay. Rumor is Lucitor Electronics is looking for extra workers.”

Star raised a puzzled eyebrow “I’m sorry? I don’t quite follow…”

Marco shifted uncomfortably under Star’s gaze “Of course not, that’s the point. You see luv Lucitor Electronics have been known to….push certain products into the town. If they’re looking for extra workers then that’s street speak for we need something moved and we’ll pay great money for you to keep your moth shut.”

“Do you mean…?”

Marco gave a short nod “They’re asking for 2 dozen workers. That’s the largest amount of ‘help’ they’ve asked for in years. Only means one thing.”

“Whatever they’re moving” Star concluded “It’s big and probably dangerous.”

“Exactly. Next shipment comes in two weeks. Give me your number and I’ll contact you when it comes in.”

Star frowned at that idea but quickly scrawled her number on a napkin and gingerly handed it to Marco.

Marco seemed pretty unsure of himself. He rose to his feet quickly, his mouth opening and closing a few times before giving a curt nod and disappearing into the water veil that blanketed Star’s beloved Mewni.

Star carefully placed her glasses back onto her face, trying to ignore the sinking of her heart as Grumpy whispered quietly “She’s not going to be okay with this you know?”

“I know…..”

#star vs au #my story

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haikyuulovercompany · 7 years

Note

For the song prompt: Oikawa, and the song is "Bite", Troye Sivan. I hope I did it right~

This one took me so much time. I rewrote it like four times. I knew what I wanted but didn’t know how to make it happen, I guess. I just wasn’t happy with anything, but this finally made more sense to me. I mean, it’s currently 3:30 AM, but I guess we can’t chose at what time inspiration hits us.

I get the feeling you were waiting for something more, you know, steamy… but I suck with steamy action :( I always do pervy jokes but when it comes to erotic writing, it simply isn’t my thing. Still, I hope you enjoy this!

——

Bite - Oikawa Tooru

‘It hadn’t been a mistake. It had been everything but a mistake,’ Oikawa thought.

Since they had met on their firstweek in college, an intense spark had born between them. Back then neither ofthem thought it was what it was. They granted the excitement to the new phaseof their lives. When you’re young and finally starting to take the world withyour own bare hands, everything made you felt exhilaration. It never occurredto them it was the chemistry between them what made the day they met so special.It was too soon.

Fast-forward to a couple of monthslater and those friendly chats and innocent outburst of laughter became a heavyattraction. They were oblivious to how much they unnecessarily touched eachother, or how close their faces when they talk face to face as if theconversation was a secret. It was almost natural for them to invade the other’spersonal space. They were pulled together like magnets.

He began to suspect when he caughthimself staring at her mouth while she was chewing the small pink eraser on theback of her pencil as she absently gazed at their professor. He had pressed hismouth against the back of his hand unable to look away. Later that same day shehad tugged his arm forcing him to bend his body so her mouth could successfullyreach his ear. As she whispered some new funny gossip she had heard, he feltshivers dancing on his spine and traveling to the back of his neck provokinghis skin to bristle.

The smallest actions started to havea major effect on him, and those sensations were ones he wasn’t able to ignorefor long.

Kiss me on the mouth and set me freeSing me like a choir

He hit the volleyball with a strengthhe rarely put into practice causing a blasting noise to resonate in the gym. Heusually went easy trying to perfect his precision more than his punch. Not thatday. He was hitting each ball furiously. Even the coach stared at him puzzledby the sudden burst of power. He was aware he was attracting some eyes to him,but nobody asked and that made him glad. His head was a labyrinth he wasn’tbeing able to cross.

It wasn’t just how her actions nowaffected him, now he started to notice what had been unnoted until then. He wasobserving, neatly studying, the way her body moved when she walked, ran, orbend. The form her hands decided to do everything, from stroking, to holding,to grabbing, to simply everything.

And as if his hands had a mind oftheir own, they started to superficially explore more of her. Unconsciously hewould rest a hand on one of her tights more often than before, or fondle herforearms or whichever surface of her body he was having contact with. Even herhair was being a victim of his sudden urgency of closeness. He would play withthe ends of her hair as they talk, softly untangled it. He enjoyed the smoothsensation of his fingers going through the threads.

What made everything worse was thetype of relationship they shared. After Iwaizumi, she was the closest friend hehad ever had. She was more than a simply girl with who he could flirt with noshame or fear of the consequences. He would never cross a line she didn’t wanthim to cross. And to ruin what was already built was a dangerous bet.

Then again, it was a difficult taskto keep himself together when he had her in front of him wearing a short skirtand a lose, thin shirt enjoying herself with some of her ownfriends in one of the too many parties that were thrown in the campus. Nor theother girls in the place, or one of his new teammates telling him all about his not-that-impressive story were as interesting as she was.

He found himself biting the lid of his red plastic cupanxiously as he watched her.

I can bethe subject of your dreamsYour sickening desire

When perverse images of her started to attack his mindwas when he knew he was done for. He not only liked her, or desired her; hewanted to take things to the next level with her. He realized this as he staredat the ceiling covered in sweat in a not all hot night. The only thing that wasburning in the room was his own skin. He sat on the edge of the bed watchinghis roommate quietly sleeping, and he envied him.

He stood up taking off his shirt, which was damped insweat, letting it fall into the floor without caring where. The fresh breezeinhabiting the place felt nice. He walked to the bathroom, closed the toilet,and sat. He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, and pushed back hishair.

He took in consideration all of his options. Confessingwas a straight no. As far as he had seen her behavior hadn’t change one bitwith him. She acted with the same naturalness she had always demonstratedaround him.

Also, she was exactly that, a friend. Once you started being in a relationship, the wholedynamic automatically changed. They were close to each other, but they hadparts of their lives they didn’t share with one another. She was mildly awarethat he used to have a losing streak in high school despite of his keenabilities. Yet, she knew nothing about the true problem that lied within hiscomplex personality, the fights he dealt with deepdown himself alongside other nightmarish matters that he made sure nobody knewexisted in him.

He had had a moment once, and he had dismissed with asimple ‘I’m having a bad day’ type of bullshit. She didn’t duel too much with thosekinds of things. She had respected his space. If they dated, that veil thatstill existed between would evaporate. After all, they had known each otheronly for a couple of months. And he was afraid she wouldn’t like what she sawwhen he was forced to open up to her.

He was also unaware if she had any weird habit or herown demons. He was sure she had them, everyone had their own. The true questionwas how big and destructive those demons of her were, and if she had them undercontrol. The second realization of the night was how little he actually knewher. He could order by memory her favorite coffee from the fancy cafeteria theyhad in campus, and identify her calligraphy, but the important, substantialinformation was still to be found.

A small detailed flashed before him. She hadn’tdemonstrated any change towards him. But he had. He definitely had grown moreconfortable with touching and sharing. He had criticized himself weeks priordue to his new odd behavior. She hadn’t rejected him, or been awkward. She wasconfortable with it.

So maybe… Just maybe…

He stopped himself and turned the shower on. He had tocage the lion instead of justifying why it was out, and freely hunting aninnocent prey.

Don’t youwanna see a man up closeA phoenix in the fire

He should have known back then that his intuitionrarely was unerring. Almost never, actually. How homely she reacted with hispropinquity was no coincidence. It was the obvious and unique sign she was feelingher own kind of urgency.

Another party, and another series of red plastic cupsfilled with a badly mixed drink that had more alcohol than the necessary andtoo little soda in it. It was nearly two in the morning and she clung to hisarm as she was laughing hysterically at the story he was whispering directly toher ear with a smile just as wide as hers. Hearing her laugh in that specificway never failed to make him feel fulfilled, as if he had won a big prize.

The place was still packed with people having a goodtime; therefore, the free space that existed was next to none. A bulky guyholding two cups filled to the top was trying to pass, so Oikawa did what hisdrunken mind decided was the best. Like an instinct he half trapped her waistwith his free arm, and pulled her against him to the point his lips were nowpressed against her ear, and there was no space between their bodies. The guyfinally was able to walk away but they didn’t separate. Instead, she was nowrubbing his back as they kept joking and acting like nothing new was happening.

The sensation was so pleasant he started to wonder ifthe light pink adorning her cheeks was because she was also drunk, or if shewas feeling as flustered as he.

The same scenario repeated over and over again. Therehad been a couple of times when alcohol hadn’t been added into the equation,and they had founded themselves in each other’s arms. He was enjoying himself,and now was obvious to him she was doing the same.

You can coax the cold right out of meDrape me in your warmth

The rapture in the dark puts me at easeThe blind eye of the storm

He’d had a taste of what awaited himin paradise, it was only logical for him to want some more. His hunger was nolonger satisfied by those small, random moments. He was now in the search ofthe perfect instant to lastly put an end to the seduction game they had endedup playing. He wasn’t in for any more games. He longed for the real thing.

Nevertheless, nothing can ever bethat perfect.

That time around no parties wereinvolved, and both were sober. Winter brake had arrived and both of them wereleaving to their respective prefectures the day after.

They were sitting on the couch in theempty common room of the dorms. Almost everyone had already left the campus, orwere getting ready to do so first thing in the morning. Both of them shouldhave been doing the same, yet the quietness of the place as the televisionplayed in low volume offered an intimate atmosphere. He was anxious as hewrapped her around the shoulders as he usually did. His fingers were tapping onher shoulder giving away his restlessness.

“Oikawa,” she spoke attracting hisgaze off of the movie and to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” he quickly asked.

“You seem… I don’t know, quitefidgety tonight.” He stared at her eyes. She was looking at him with a mix ofcuriosity and humor. The glow of the television only got to illuminate half ofher face creating an interesting contrast on her features. But her eyes, thoseshone with or without light. His body decided to breath deeply at the time hisarm left its current position freeing her from his embrace.

His two hands rose and trapped herface in a delicate gesture. She immediately tensed foreshadowing what wascoming next. He inclined his head to her, first resting his forehead on hersand closing his eyes. He was trying to gather the little courage he needed tofinish what he was doing.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” she startedto mumble. His eyes opened and he pulled back instantly, letting go of her facein such a way it assimilated the way someone would pull their hand out of theburning fire.

“You don’t know what?”

“If… if doing this would be a goodidea.”

First Oikawa felt a dry punch on hisstomach, and the air was missing. The next second he was gasping for air as anincredible anger possessed him. He sinisterly chuckled.

“Really? After all now you don’t knowif this is a good idea?”

“I don’t know. It’s complicated,okay?”

Now he was on his feet. “What iscomplicated? Giving me hints that there’s something between us and then kickingme in the gut with this?”

“I-it isn’t like that” she defendedherself.

“It feels that way,” Oikawa answerednot caring about his voice betraying him.

“I need some time to think things. Wehave an amazing friendship, so why rush everything.”

He made an amazing effort not toscream his lungs out at that right second. “You should have done that before leadingme on.”

Her face turned red in anger, anddecided to get up as well. “I didn’t lead you on! Being nice to you doesn’tmean I want to be with you! I thought better of you!”

He couldn’t hold it any longer. Theanger inside had officially eaten his common sense to death. The man who wasnow speaking was not he. “Sleeping in my arms, or letting me practically touchyou all the time isn’t an only friends thing!”

“I know we’re not just friends, butI’m not ready. I don’t want this right now!”

“Why?” he finally asked what heneeded to know. He had a long history of never reaching what he wanted themost, and from the looks of it, this girl was going to fall into that samelist. She stared at him as she pressed her lips in a tight line. “Because ofthe reputation? Because other girls like me too much?”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Then why?” he laughed bitterly.Another silence followed. “I won’t do this, _____. I won’t beg you. I havepursued too many lost causes and I won’t chase you until you finally decide. Iwon’t stay here for you to make me feel like my efforts aren’t good enough. Idon’t need another thing reminding me that shit.”

And with that said, he stormed out ofthe place before frustration replaced the anger, and tears started to flood hiseyes.

I’mpulling on your heart to push my luckCause who’s got any time for growing up

He didn’t heart about her for the whole winter brake.He had utilized his time home to clear his head, and to talk to the rightpeople. Iwaizumi knew well the kind of person he was, and what he was willingto do in all type of situations. The conclusion that they had reached was thateverything was messed up. ‘Sometimesthese things happen.’ He hated that saying. It implied there was nothingleft to do, and he detested not having an option to improve, to turn thingsaround.

On his way back to campus, he didn’t feel as excitedas he did at the start of the school year. He would see her eventually, andthings would be different. To pretend the fight didn’t happen was useless, andhe wasn’t going to pretend he no longer had feelings for her. He did and he wasgoing to own the goddamn situation until a resolution came around. Because whathe had tried to do hadn’t been a mistake. He had done what felt right since hebelieved both of them were in the same page. He wasn’t going to apologize forthat.

And he hadn’t had to wait long for the so-calledresolution he needed. As soon as classes started, she was resting against thewall next to the door of his room. He blinked a couple of times being takenaback. She noticed his presence right away.

“Hi, Oikawa. I need to talk to you,” she announced. Hedidn’t move from his place, and maintain his expression neutral. Of course hewas feeling uneasy with ______ right in front of him, but that wasn’t somethinghe was going to admit to her. He just stared at her to let her know he waslistening. “I was stupid. I was so nervous because I didn’t know if I waswilling to ruin our friendship, but you were totally right. I should’ve consideredthat before letting myself go. I hurt you and I never wanted to do that.”

She made a pause to see if he had something to add. Hedidn’t, so she continued. “I do like you, and a lot. In the time I was home Irealized how stupid it was. I noticed what you were doing and I let you becauseI wanted that, too. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough,because for me you’re so much more than enough. If you can forgive me… I wouldlike to make things right.”

Oikawa didn’t know what got to him. Maybe it was hervoice that showed she was hurting, or the crystalized look her eyes had, or hesimply do loved her that much, but he walked up to her, and cupped her face.

“You’re forgiven,” he said before finally kissing her,and being glad when she kissed him back.

So kiss meon the mouth and set me free,but please, don’t bite.

——

Thanks for the request! I hope you liked it!

#oikawa tooru #oikawa #aobajousai #seijoh #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu scenario #1500 followers #haikyuu song fic #haikyuu scenarios

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