#And yes. She did immediately do the liberal thing of lets move out of the country like. I do not want to live in denmark thank you very muc
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surpriserose · 2 months ago
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I love my mom and being annoying as fuck is not a crime and she is open to me talking about communism so shes doing better than i thought she would but oh my god. I cannot deal with how annoying she is right now
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yooglefics · 3 months ago
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The casual type: 05 . The art of paying attention
Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 3,354 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ???. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. Fluff for cute friends. Summary:  ( Series ) • Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However, no one really expected things to end the way they did. ( Ep. 05 ) • Sometime the little details mean more than people think. More info under read more.
Includes ( this chapter ): The squad<3. Subin my love. And other new characters. A kind of out of nowhere jump in time ( just a few weeks ) because the writing just flowed like that, I don't know what to tell you. A mini-drama ( this is the spoiler I posted on ko-fi the other week ) and a bigger drama.  Author's note: so… I'm sorry this took so long to be updated Y_Y As you may know, inspiration hasn't been too good these days, but after some lovely comments and knowing people are interested in this story, I finally finished this chapter, so thank you! Also, let me know if you figured out what the drama was before the end, or if you had a theory about it, etc. Hopefully you like this one, and remember to leave a comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or what not, to help my motivation. Thank you for reading <3
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“Kang Subin, queer and honorable member of the divorced parents club.” Is how your roommate introduces herself friday night, pointing to the latter as the reason she is only now, a month after classes started, arriving to campus and the city in general. 
She says her dad insisted on doing a year abroad as he did, assisting to his Alma Mater and hopefully fall in love with the city to move full time with him. And she did love it… a little too much. She admits the change of scenery was liberating, she could be a totally different Subin from the one in Seoul, and sadly that meant neglecting her notes and putting at risk her art history degree.
You're glad to note she will be joining you ( and some of your friends on occasion ) for classes, since she managed to keep her notes high enough to not lose her first semester. And then you spend the weekend getting to know each other, practically becoming friends overnight. Subin says it must be a you thing, and shaking your head no, you confess essentially begging the administration for a roommate because you're stuck with silly boys and all girls hate you because you aren't cool like them. She laughs, asks if that means the plan is making everyone hate her too and be stuck with you. And you freak out a little, but her laugh keeps flowing across the dormroom and you know she is joking; you know that things would be fine.
Monday arrives and between classes, you continue to give Subin small tours of the campus, mostly the art building and where all the vending machines are. 
“There's more than I thought, could you make me a map?” She jokingly asks.
“I'll ask Jungkook for the one we made last semester,” you know he has it because it was offered to Yoongi before.
“Hey, y/n!” calls Taehyung, appearing at the other end of the hall with Yoongi, and when he asks “you got some gum?”, you know they were just on a smoke break.
“Oh, hi, Tae. Nice to see you.” Sarcastic tone all over it, “are you having a nice morning?”
He rolls his eyes and Yoongi laughs at his side.
“Sorry, I'm actually not. And I'm running late,” still you give him a look and as a little kid he repends. “Hi, you guys look pretty today, as alway.” He adds before you can argue anything, and only then Subin chuckles, understanding this must be part of your dynamic. “Do you happen to have some gum for us, your lovely friends?”
“Yes, actually.” Taking one strap off, you move your backpack to your front, looking for the little package they keep stealing from. “Here,” you hand one wrapper to Tae, who starts running in the other direction immediately, screaming how much he loves you. And a “nice to meet you!” to Subin.
Everyone laughs, Yoongi turning back in your direction after Taehyung disappears down the hallway.
“You want one?” You ask and before being able to stop yourself, you add, “Is cherry, though” 
“Of course it is,” he smiles and you look away, pretending it's only to search for another one to offer Subin. Memories of friday��s night invading your psyche and shyness your whole body. 
Well, that's your own fault.
“Thank you,” she says, looking at the two of you while unwrapping it. “I'm Subin, by the way, the new roommate.” 
“Oh, she actually found one!”
“Just hoping she doesn't abandon me too,” you pout and Subin wraps one arm around yours.
“Never.”
“Yoongi,” He introduces, thumb pointing to himself and then behind, “And that was Taehyung, but I guess you'd meet the whole squad later.”
“Ah, yeah. I've been told she collects cute guys.”
“Did someone actually say that?” Yoongi asks when you're not even surprised.
“Yeah and when I asked about girls she looked relieved,” subin goes on, “I actually wanted to know, you know.”
Yoongi and you laugh, “someone doesn't like competition,” both say in unison.
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“I told you, they lied.”
“Well, I can't really say that yet. I've to look first,” Subin insists, walking through the cafeteria's door. And it doesn't bother you because it comes from a place of curiosity and not horniness. No shame to anyone, your friends are hot, but you've known them for so long and know they have other great attributes that sometimes it feels superficial and it bothers you.
Besides, as a friend, you need to keep their egos just high enough to be healthy for everyone involved.
“Listen, kids,” calling for the table's attention, you stand in front of them, “this is Subin, my—”
“New roommate?” Asks Jungkook, remembering the text you sent, and you nod excitedly.
“That's Jungkook, he is in music and sports.”
“Which ones?”
“All. Some. We don't have time for that,” you joke, but only continue with the rest of his introduction after the youngest clarifies is soccer and box this year. “Oh, he also takes an art class with Taehyung and I, and now you, this semester. You know Tae from earlier, the one who keeps stealing my gum.”
“You're the one that tells me to not show up to class with cigarette breath!” He pushes back against accusations.
“I think she wants you to buy your own,” Jimin suggests.
“Or quit,” adds Hobi and the table laughs even more.
“That’s Hobi, the group's mom.” Tae offers after.
“Does that make Mai the dad?” Jungkook asks, with a serious expression on his face.
“I'm telling her so,” Yoongi says, already phone in hand and texting his best friend.
“You'll have to meet Mai later, she is great,” you continue, “but Tae is in arts. And Hobi and Jimin, are both dancers,” index finger pointing at their direction as you say each name, “and well, you already know that's Yoongi, he is in music too.”
“And the last new guy, right?” Subin remembers from your talk earlier after she met him for the first time, “I guess I took your title.”
“Are we enemies now?” He jokes, “I was about to offer you my chair, but now I don't know.”
Again, laughs all around and before anyone can think about the sitting arrangement too seriously, Jungkook is standing up, saying he needs to go back to the house before his next class.
“Oh, you are the biker from friday!” Subin exclaims as Jungkook’s helmet comes into view, everyone turning to look at her, “can't believe I forgot to ask you.”
And then five pairs of eyes are on you, all but Yoongi's, since he doesn't need an explanation. 
“...What?” Asks Tae, finally.
“Had to call her to my rescue because I lost my key and from the hallway's window I saw someone drop her off on a motorcycle,” she explains, “that's when the girl told me about you collecting cute guys.”
“But that wasn't me,” says Jungkook.
“Yeah, you weren't with us that night. We were all at the house, so who was it?” Ask Jimin, and the curiosity in his voice makes you nervous. You have never lied to them, and starting right now without preparation is terrifying.
However nothing compares to the feeling on your stomach when Yoongi answers, “it was me, actually.” And without a beat, your friends are looking at him now, “What?”
“You what now?” Mister interrogation Tae goes on, “Why were you together? What time was it? Was it late?”
“You were alone? Why?” Asks Hobi.
“We can't hang out now?” You ask back, wasn't he who set you up in the first place? And yes, it didn't turn out the way they planned it, but wasn't the whole premise to get to know Yoongi?
“Not what I meant,” he corrects, “Just… you didn't say anything.”
“Well, you guys canceled, what were we supposed to do? Not do anything just because you weren't with us?” Yoongi answers before you. 
“And we just hang out, you know, eat junk food and chat. Nothing to write home about.”
“Aww,” coos Jungkook, sliding his arm over your shoulders, “does that mean you missed us? You really love us, uh?” you pull back, sticking your tongue at him and pushing him towards the exit, telling him to hurry because if he is late to class you aren't covering for him again.
Thankfully, that's enough to get them off your back and Subin’s arrival provides better entertainment through the lunch hour, as your friends don't hold back on their questions to get to know her. And you're glad they seem to like her as much as you do.
“So… should I've not mentioned the bike thing?” worries Subin later, when everyone has left and is only her and Yoongi at the table.
“Don't worry about it.” He reassures her, offering a tangerine slice when she doesn't return the smile. “Seriously.” 
Is not her fault, he thinks. He can't blame the guys either for wondering and going into big brother mode as soon as they hear you're hanging out with someone, since the prevalence of that is not the best right now. And although he does feels bad about keeping things a secret from them, mostly Hoseok, who Yoongi himself give the “you better be careful with what you do with my best friend” talk, it consoles him a bit to know that the both of you are on the same page with what you have. 
Maybe if they knew it wouldn't be a big deal, he thinks. Better him than anyone else, right?
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Putting away your phone and with the excuse of going to the bathroom before class, Subin and Tae follow their journey to the second floor without you and without suspecting anything. As you walk in front of one of the classrooms, a hand wraps around your forearm and pulls you in.
“What th—!” scream is interrupted when you recognize Yoongi. “You almost gave me a heart attack! I could've punched you.” And with adrenaline still running through your body, you actually push his shoulder with less force than you first intended.
“Ouch.” He rubs the place you hit, dramatically, as he explains, “Sorry, I panicked. There were people around and I didn't want to scream your name”
“Yeah, we should be careful after what happened at the cafeteria. Good save, by the way.”
“You own me,” he quickly returns.
“I do not,” you deny, crossing your arms, “You were the one insisting on going into the parking lot, I told you to leave me at the gate.”
“Well, forgive me for being a gentleman.”
You laugh, “and modest.”
Yoongi smiles, relaxing his body against the wall beside the door, “are you telling Subin about us?” he asks before you can question him about why he asked to meet.
Uncrossing your arms, you fiddle with your nails instead, scratching the acrylic paint off of them. “What is your opinion on that?”
“You can't answer a question with a question, miss.”
“Well… I don't know.” Is your final answer after a few seconds of silence. “She is cool and I really think we’re going to be friends and maybe I can gossip to her about you.”
He chuckles at that.
“And also she said sorry and asked if it was supposed to be a secret.”
“Really?” Yoongi sounds surprised, “She asked me that too earlier and I told her to not worry.”
“I feel bad about it because it seems like she is actually worried she messed up,” you share, “maybe I should just come clean. Only to her, at least. But of course not, if you don't want to.”
“No, it's okay. I think is good you have someone to talk to. And she seems nice.”
You nod in agreement, relieved you don't have to start hiding things from Subin as soon as you two met.
“Also,” Yoongi goes on, holding your hips and bringing you closer to him. You allow him to without much thinking. “It was nothing to write home about?”
“What?” 
“Friday night, you said that earlier.” 
“Did your ego get hurt?” You tease.
“No. But I didn't know you were a liar.” he throws back and you laugh. “I'm going to call you Pinocchio now.”
At that, you gasp, “stop giving me nicknames!”
And your attempt to pull away is just that, an attempt, because between laughs he holds you closer. “But is funny. And all of them are true.”
“They aren't.”
“Are so.”
“I don't like you.”
“That's not what I got from friday.”
“Yoongiii—.” you gasp again, his laugh louder this time.
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Wanting a clarification stops him from dumping his phone back into the duffle bag and so, throwing the strap over his shoulder, he makes his way over to Chris and other teammates. 
“Are you ready to go?” His roommate asks, and Yoongi nods, “good, I'm just waiting for Ha-ri.” 
“Hey!” As they turn around, it is not difficult to recognize her as one of the cheerleaders since she is carrying her pom-poms and all, but is only as they continue talking that Yoongi realizes who she is, “sorry, I was saying goodbye to the girls and planning for next practice.” 
“Don't worry, babe.” 
“You must be Yoongi, hi,” she waves her free hand enthusiastically enough the pendant on her bracelet makes a jiggly sound, catching his attention “welcome to the university. And the team. Go, Bears!”
She seems nice, Yoongi thinks, “Go, bears!” first in the air, he chuckles in response before they all make their way to the parking lot and to Chris’s car.
The drive home is short and filled with questions about his last school and the reason he transferred, which Yoongi manages to give simple and vague answers that satisfy Ha-ri’s curiosity. It definitely helps that he has been questioned about it more than once the last few weeks, giving him more than one chance to practice before today.
The more weeks pass, the less people ask. And soon the mystery of his arrival is pushed to the side as people decide to talk about his accomplishments in the basketball games.
Every now and then someone recognizes him as an ex Tiger's player, and asks why he changed teams, but before anything can get to deep, a “well, now you are on the right team,” or something alike is thrown his way and he couldn't be more glad for the rivalry between the universities.
For what is worth, the change has proven to have been a good decision. Of course he is nostalgic for the past and he misses hanging out with Mai more often, but he has friends, basketball and music. He has even been planning to perform at school events with Jungkook as he did with Jay back then. 
It feels like he is starting to build a new life, and it wasn't as difficult as his brain told him it could be.
With chuseok around the corner the university starts to plan the events for the weekend and some professors feel generous enough to give extra credits for participation. Others just used it as an excuse to make the assignments related to it, that's his and Jungkook’s case.
Yours is the first one, because getting a good grade for hanging out with your friends sounds too good to pass out. That's why for the last few days you have been following them around taking pictures and notes, preparing your article about their performance Saturday night. 
“Are you done?” Yoongi asks from his spot at the end of the bed when you take the headphones off, the ones he made you wear so he wouldn't have to listen to himself on the interview recording.
“Yep. I only need Kook's side and I'm done,” end of the sentence elongates a bit, arms in the air as you stretch your back.
“How long for him to be here? I need him to go over something before he eats and gets a food coma.”
“I'm glad you're already prepared for that,” you giggle, “Because he is not even seeing my texts.”
“He is still busy?”
“Yeah, kissing someone for sure. Does he think I don't have things to do too?” 
“Like making out with someone too?” he jokes, putting his guitar down on the bed, deciding to take a break too.
“Why? Are you jealous?” you tease, trying not to laugh and is surprising when you're met with a serious expression as you spin around on his desk chair.
 “I thought the rule was to tell if there were other people.”
“I'm just kidding,”
“Wow, a comedian.” he rolls his eyes, and you know he is only pretending to be annoyed.
So, you push. “I'm funnier than you, don't get mad.”
“Cocky.” 
“What, you don't find confidence attractive?”
“Oh, I find a lot of things about you attractive.” 
Touche; you think as a smirk appears proudly on his face and makes you turn around, shy reaction at the security of this voice.
And he laughs. Of course.
“Shut up, Yoongi.”
“If you want to kiss me, just do it,” he only has to stretch a bit to pull on the chair, making you turn to him again and bringing you close.
And you do kiss him.
Not only to erase his stupid and attractive gummy smile, but also because you've missed it.
With projects and exams, with Yoongi not only being in a different major but also in his third year, hanging out only the two of you hasn't happened as much. 
You don't mind. You understand that is not a priority and there is something relaxing about it being an unspoken agreement, something that you truthly appreciate. 
But you would be lying if you said that you didn't miss Yoongi's lips against yours and the way his hand cups your cheek, still gentle as he tries to lead the kiss. 
Looking for closeness, your hand finds balance on his tight, making you contemplate ditching the comfiness of the desk chair for a sit on his lap.
“Is pizza night, baby!” breaks through the house before you can make another move, making you jump and pull away on instinct. Moving out of Yoongi's reach, even hitting the desk with the back of the chair as you stand up in record time.
“Careful,” he murmurs and you don't understand why he isn't freaking out. Even dears to chuckle.
“Min, come out!” another voice calls out.
“That's not Jungkook,” you say as a matter of fact, your brain still in shock.
“I'm starting to think he stood us up.” He stands up, looking at his phone still without texts from the younger guy, “Wanna meet my roommates? They have pizza, apparently.”
And your empty stomach makes the executive decision to hide your shame, and disappointment, in exchange for some food.
You're introduced to Jin first, who introduces Namjoon while taking the knife out of his hand with a “let hyung do it.”
“I swear he never lets me hold a knife for more than five seconds,” he says and you find it adorable, but Namjoon seems genuinely confused and maybe a bit hurt by it. 
You wonder what more there's to that. But before you can ask anything, a third roommate comes out of the kitchen, “Is for your own good and the wellbeing of everyone involved,” he says, making your whole body tense as the familiar voice rings through your ears.
“That's Chris.” Jin says, and you almost answer that you know, but for a second it is even hard to breathe.
Nevertheless, you don't need to say anything, because your silence is everything Yoongi needed to confirm that an introduction isn't necessary and in fact, you'd probably rather forget about him. 
Because is him.
The guy who hurt you.
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A/N: I missed writing this! again thank you to anyone who has show interest one way or another, you're the reason this chapter was actually finished uwu♡. A/N 2: I'm working on the intros for the characters that aren't part of the squad, and sometimes I ask for your help with fc's suggestions or names, so... that's something to know if you're interested. Send a tip on ko-fi and get some rewards!!
♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland , @itsmina29 , @ktownshizzle , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @kimtaehussy .
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➪ 01 ・ 02  ・  03 ・ 04 | ➪ Tag for TCT verse | ♡ Join a tag list | ➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Pinned
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mj-ackerman · 2 years ago
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SxF Light Novel: Family Portrait Translation Mission 4: Portrait of the Forger Family!? (Part 2)
<<PART 1 . . . PART 3>>. DO NOT REPOST
A few minutes later, Yor returned with a voice saying,
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
The sound of her voice was completely her usual tone. Relieved, Loid said, 
“That was quick, Yor..Yoooor?”
He was supposed to greet Yor with a gentle smile…but he unintentionally let out a loud yelp.
This is all because Yor’s glossy black hair had all turned into bangs and was covering her face. Not only that, her hair from the chin down was wrapped around her neck like a scarf.
“I-Is there something wrong, Loid?”
Perhaps because her vision was blocked, Yor leaned forward with her hands outstretched in front of her and she slowly approached him. 
“AHHHH!! A GHOST!!”
“B-B-B-BORF!”
Anya cried out in fear, and Bond curled up his tails and shivered. The ghost herself was worried about the girl’s and the animal’s situation.
“Eh? Th-There’s a ghost? A-Are you two okay, Anya, Bond?”
How about you, Yor? Are you okay!?
Loid, who was holding back the feeling of wanting to say that, calmly asked Yor,
“Um, Yor. What did you do with your hair?”
“Eh? No, um..th-this is a recently trendy hairstyle that Camilla told me about. Since we’re here, I thought I’d give it a try.”
“That's a trendy hairstyle?”
“Y-Yes!”
Although it was slightly stumped, Yor responded firmly. 
“I was thinking that if I’m gonna be drawn, why not with the latest hairstyle, but um, does it look weird?”
“.....Uh….I won’t exactly say I didn’t like it..”
Loid was loss for words.
Needless to say, it was weird. However, if Yor truly thinks this hairstyle is good, even though it’s really improbable, it might hurt her feelings if he says otherwise. 
Just as I thought, using the toilet was just an excuse to avoid having your face painted, right? Or, did you really think that hairstyle was trendy? 
Loid stared at his wife, who had turned into a ghost with bangs, in an attempt to discern her true intentions. 
Ugh….I don’t know which is which. 
Amidst the indescribable tension running through the peaceful corner of the park, Felix said in a flat voice, 
“Um, I think that hairstyle is innovative and good, but the overall color will make it look darker, so I think the old hairstyle is better.”
After telling her so, and without worrying Loid any further, Yor restored her hair to its original state. 
---------------
“That was a pity, wasn’t it, Yor?”
“.....Y-Yes.”
Yor, who had returned to her normal hairstyle at the painter’s request, was clearly dejected. She was still as pale as ever. 
As instructed by Felix, the three of them sat on the picnic sheet, and Bond was sleeping comfortably on the lawn beside them.
“I want it to have a natural look, so you guys should talk and do things normally. It’s perfectly fine to move around a little.”
Saying that, Felix ran his pencil across the canvas. 
“I’m hungry.”
At that, Anya picked up a sandwich and began to eat it. 
Isn’t that a bit too liberal? 
Loid thought, but the fact that Felix didn’t say anything, he guessed it must be fine. 
Yor sneezed again from the completely cold wind. Looking at her shivering, it must have been cold in her thin sleeveless shirt. 
“I think you should really put on a jacket, Yor. It’s getting very cold after all.”
Loid handed over the front-button knitted hoodie that he had taken off earlier to Yor.
“You don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”
“Ah, yes…..thank you.”
Yor took it and suddenly squinted her eyes. Immediately after that, she put the hoodie on backwards and covered her entire face with the hood. 
Eh….?
Loid flinched at Yor, who was sitting there, unperturbed. 
“Y-Yor?”
“Yes, Loid? It’s very warm here.”
Every time Yor spoke, the knitted fabric around the mouth part wriggled. 
“The wind is certainly getting colder.”
“........”
Anya, who had stopped eating her sandwich, stared at the bizarre figure in silence as she swallowed hard. Felix didn’t say anything, perhaps because he was too focused on his drawing that he didn’t notice Yor’s eccentricities. 
Reluctantly, Loid hid his inner turmoil and pointed out, “The front and back are reversed, you know,” to which Yor replied, “.......I’m sorry, I carelessly put it on.”.
Yor regretfully took off the hoodie, and after putting it back normally, her head drooped again. 
At that moment, a strong wind blew. The edge of the sheet flew in the air and made a flapping sound. At that, Anya yelped. 
“A dust went to my eyes!”
“Don’t rub it, Anya. It’ll only hurt your eyes.”
Yor hastily stopped Anya from rubbing her eyelids with her fingers. 
“Gently open your eyes, look up and try to blink them away.”
Anya, who had been blinking repeatedly as Yor told her to do so, burst into a smile. 
“It’s gone!”
“That’s good to hear.”
Yor turned away, relieved. Then, as if suddenly realizing something, she fell silent. 
She then thought, “.......come to think of it, in the magazine that featured make-up on it which Millie showed me before also said that the eyes make the biggest impression…” she mumbled something in a whisper. 
Her face was extremely serious and there was even a devilish force to it.
“Papa, Mama looks weird.”
Anya quietly whispered. 
“She even became a park ghost earlier.”
As Loid tried to turn away, Yor suddenly exclaimed, 
“AH! The strong wind! I got dust in my eyes too!”
When she said that with a terribly stiff delivery, she squeezed her eyes tightly. And if you're wondering, the wind wasn’t blowing as if it were. 
“This is bad….I can’t seem to open my eyes until around the time we get back home.”
“...........”
Anya’s face became like that of a Noh mask. Loid’s face was starting to look the same too, but he couldn’t leave it as it is. 
“Erm….are you okay, Yor?”
He said this softly as he leaned towards Yor, who was sitting across from him. 
“Let me see it please.”
When he touched her slender chin and looked into her face, Yor, who shivered, opened her eyes in surprise. 
“Ah…waaah”
“Does it hurt?”
“Ah, i-i-it’s not hurt….ing.”
“Please stay still.”
Loid whispered, and when he brought her face closer to him, Yor screamed, 
“EEEEEEEEEK!!!”
“Eh!?”
She pushed Loid’s upper body away with all her might. Loid landed on the lawn a few meters away from the picnic sheet, and was greeted with applause by the people nearby, while Felix gently chided in saying, 
“I think that was a little bit too much of a movement there.”
--------------
(Note: It's kind of the same as what happened in chapter 35, the difference is that she pushed him and Loid was genuinely worried about her weird behavior 😄)
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dabifixation · 4 years ago
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the importance of knocking
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dabi x fem!reader
summary: When Dabi told you to wait at the bar because he was going to "Take care of things" you shouldn't have humored him. You shouldn't have gotten drunk on a mission. And most of all you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling by looking for the blue flame user and discovering exactly what he meant by taking care of things.
warnings: nsfw, smut, voyeurism, unprotected sex, squirting, MINORS DNI
word count: 2.4k
~
You really didn't like villains. They were temperamental bigots who were hard to work with and cared very little about their environment.
Blue eyed, flame wielding, two-toned nuisances were not the exception to this.
If anything, having Dabi tag along on your mission didn't really help with your dwindling impression of the man.
Said mission was going downhill very fast, losing your chance to achieve funds from your organization's formidable benefactors, all because somebody thought it was funny to set Mr Park's hair on fire after the man passed a comment on somebody's unprofessional attire.
You hated him for that. Truly hated him. However you knew he wasn't just messing up your mission for his own amusement. You weren't stupid, you knew a field test when you saw one. This mission was set up to see how well you'd do now that the Meta Liberation Army was under siege from the League of Villains. Dabi was your examiner.
And you failed the test.
So it came as a surprise to you when the bane of your existence suggested that he'd take care of things, which made you wonder if he was a comedian in his past life cause what could he possibly do to fix things.
You spent the next hour by yourself with an endless supply of whisky in hopes of coming up with a good plan in order to leave Japan undetected.
When the next hour passed by you began to wonder where your flame wielding partner went and how long he'd be. You were convinced that he was just hunting down one of the benefactor's and stole their suitcase filled with money. But you doubt killing someone took a full two hours, so you began to worry.
Not for him of course. That would be out of character for you. You were just worried about disappointing Shigaraki by coming empty handed and not on time. At the end of the day, you were a sucker for praise and didn't mind getting it from someone who ruined the goals and reputation of the Meta Liberation Army.
You had a serious problem.
Checking your wristwatch one last time, you decided now was a good time to phone Dabi. Snickering to yourself when you saw his contact was saved under 'If Menstruational Pain Was A Person'. You clicked on his contact, hoping he wouldn't be those annoying people who answered after the fifth ring on purpose.
He wasn't.
"Whoever this is, it better be important. I'm in the middle of something." He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the soft rustling of something in the background you could tell he wasn't in any danger. It made you sigh in relief.
"Where the fuck are you?"
"Oh it's you. Miss me already?" You didn't need to see him smirking on the other end, cause you knew he was.
You ignored his question, "Where are you?"
There was pause that lasted long enough for you to hear a muffled cry in the background and an unknown squelching sound. You didn't take him for someone that tortured his victims.
You learn new things everyday.
"Room 3406." You heard a groan this time, making you frown. Why was he dragging his torture session out so long, the least he could do was put the poor person out of their misery and take their money.
Wait.
"You're still in the hotel. You damn asshole I thought you were dead in a ditch!" You raised your voice, not caring that people passing by gave you concerning looks.
"Didn't realize you cared so much about little old me." He let out a sound crossed between surprise and a laugh, which caught you off guard.
He hung up before you could give a response.
That was weird.
You looked down at your naked arms, noticing the goosebumps.
Yeah, very weird.
It didn't take you long to find the hotel room, thanking your lucky stars when you found out the room was unlocked and didn't require a key card.
Once you entered the room, you glanced around noticing that nothing was out of place or broken. There was no signs of struggle, which was a good thing. It made cleaning up easier.
Your eyes landed on a pair of familiar boots placed adjacent to a pair of red bottom heels that were laying on its side.
You picked the heel up, examining it to see if there was any blood on it. There wasn't.
That's strange.
"Uhnnnggg~"
Your head snapped in the direction of the main bedroom when you heard the sounds of someone whimpering in pain. The warning bells in your head grew louder when you decided to check out what was going on.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar but not enough for you to see what was on the other side. You heard a deep groan as your fingers brushed the doorframe, your heart in your throat at what you'd find. So you pushed forward expecting everything but what was in front of you.
You didn't dare move.
There Dabi was, hands gripping tightly on some woman's hips. The muscle in his arms flexing, and his legs out stretched beneath her. Her hands were buried in his obsidian locks as he set the pace for her, bouncing her up and down his cock. Each time he brought her down, she'd let out a R-rated moan. She swiveled her hips as best as she could, but from the way her thighs trembled from the pleasure, you could tell it was too much for her.
Dabi's eyes were shut in bliss, letting out a breathy moan when she opted for grounding on his cock instead. From her quick movements, you could tell she was close.
"Yes, yes, yes –oh fuck!"
Dabi immediately flipped her over, preventing her from reaching her climax. His heavy cock slapped against his abdomen, smearing moisture against his defined stomach. You quickly looked away, focusing on the woman instead.
It immediately clicked in. You knew who she was.
Yui Murukami, the 34 year old heiress and CEO to the company that supplied our friends in capes with support items. She was a rich and powerful woman known throughout Japan, and one of the benefactor's that pulled out their sponsorship after finding out that the Meta Liberation Army was infiltrated with "heretics."
The same heretic that's narrow hips she currently had her long milky legs wrapped around.
What a hypocrite.
You got a good look at Dabi for the first time tonight. Your eyes traveled down his lean form. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in flexibility. The position he was in was a testimony to that.
The subtle red hair trailing down towards his impressive length caught your attention. So he was a natural redhead? That or he had some weird hobby of dyeing his pubes.
It made you shudder.
He pumped at his veiny cock, gathering the pre-come dripping from the pink and angry head, and used it to lubricate himself further. The golden piercings keeping his two skin types together stretched as he did so.
You thanked whatever God was out there for Dabi not noticing you. They surely had your back. Now was the perfect time to escape. Dabi was clearly lost in the throes of pleasure. But just as you stepped back, the floor beneath your feet decided now was a good time to announce your presence.
Dabi's eyes immediately snapped open in your direction.
Those ocean blues stared at you intensely without a hint of shame. You were frozen in place as you held his heated gaze, eyes falling to his lips when his tongue jotted out to lick them. It had you entranced and you almost missed the way his lips broke out into a full grin when he knew exactly what position he had you in.
Hook, line and sinker.
He was taunting you, waiting on you to storm out of this room in embarrassment and anger. Dabi was a sick individual who'd take any and every opportunity to test you and your loyalty to the Paranormal Liberation Front. If you walked out now, despite how badly you really wanted to, that would be the same as failing. You weren't about to fail twice in one night.
He raised an eyebrow when you didn't barge at his challenge. Shrugging, he guided his cock back inside the woman with a soft sigh. He broke eye contact first, looking down at where their bodies joined and bottomed out into her. She let out a ridiculously high-pitched moan.
He kept her thighs far apart as he continued his ministrations despite knowing you were watching.
Your face was hot as you clenched your fists tightly.
Slapping and squelching sounds filled the room as their movements picked up. The air growing heavy with the smell of sex. Dabi was rutting into her in a way that had her breasts bouncing in a particular rhythm.
There was something so enticing about the way she pushed herself back onto him every time he gave short deep thrusts. She clawed at his chest, trying to push him away but he wasn't having it. Instead he drove into her faster and more ruthlessly as a warning.
This moment was too intimate and private, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away either.
It was intoxicating.
Suddenly a long keening sound left her lips, hands digging into the once pristine sheets, almost tearing them apart. Dabi hit a special spot inside of her that neither of you could see.
Heat rushed to your belly in an all too familiar feeling.
He continued hitting that spot, her body violently shaking and writhing. The way his hips were angled, it brushed against the little button at the top of her mound perfectly.
That was the last straw.
She came so hard, no doubt clamping tightly around his cock. Causing him to throw his head back in eye rolling pleasure with a deep throaty groan. His movements began to filter in order to prolong the feeling, but he quickly regained his composure and picked up where he left off. Triggering her into squirting all over his abdomen. Not once, twice but thrice.
His abdomen glistened with her juices and his added sweat. The way his hair fell into his eyes and clung to his neck had your heart skipping a beat.
"Does this make you feel good?" He asked her as his hips bucked up. Voice deep, too deep.
Fuck yes.
She responded in a tired moan.
"I could have you like this underneath me every night if you just–" he snapped his hips into hers to accentuate his point, "–begged nicely."
Jesus.
She continued to mewl, clawing into the sheets as she neared her second orgasm.
"All you got to —fuck— say is please and I'll be scratching every itch inside of you that those fingers can't reach." He toppled over her, dropping both hands on either side of the her head.
"Uh huh." She let out, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.
"I don't like being ignored." He looked at you this time, making you jolt. One of his hands reached out to grip around her throat, making her gasp as he controlled her airway.
When she responded in a broken moan, he ignored her and kept his eyes focused on you instead. He narrowed his eyes, something dark flashing in them before he looked back down at her. A deep growl in his throat.
Oh.
He was talking to you the entire time.
You rubbed your thighs together to ease the aching between your legs.
It didn't go by unnoticed, as much as you hoped. Dabi gave you a look that made him seem so vulnerable at that moment. All his walls came crashing down and for once you could read his facial expression. He desperately wanted you to be the one underneath him.
"Touch yourself." He commanded, hips bucking in urgency.
He was close.
Yui was long forgotten as it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. You did as he said, ignoring the voice in your head that was calling you a 'fucking idiot.'
You unzipped your pants, enough to give him a view of the shape of your pussy and the increasing wet patch at the center of your lace panties. You pushed your hand into your pants, while the other bunched your shirt up. The moment your fingers brushed against your drenched folds through your panties, you closed your eyes and let out a silent moan. Everything felt hypersensitive. You didn't care that this wasn't enough to send you over the edge, all you cared about was imagining it was him touching you like this, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucked you into next week.
"Fuck." He let out after a long time of being silent. "Good girl, just like that–"
A loud groan ripped out of his throat before he could finish his rambling.
Not too long and the rhythm Dabi started with began to stutter when his hips bucked up irregularly. The woman underneath him putting on a whole performance but he continued to ignore her in favor of you.
He gave you a needy look as he gave one last sloppy thrust, waves of pleasure being sent to your pussy.
Dabi let out a moan that was so guttural and so deep as he came inside of her wishing it was you instead. He chased his high in quick juvenile thrusts, making sure every last drop was emptied inside of her.
His hips continued to twitch from his intense climax, a pained hiss leaving his lips. The oversensitivity finally catching up to him.
He gave her a slow open mouthed kiss after they regained their breaths. Pulling his softening cock out of her with a wet pop. He nuzzled his face into her neck, causing her to giggle and hug his form closer to hers. And he allowed it.
He looked back up at you, an indescribable look passing through his eyes. It was quickly gone as it had come, being replaced by a smirk and knowing wink that said everything you needed to know.
Bastard
Dabi was an incredible actor and you were just another one of his victims.
You left just as Dabi started getting hard again, obviously he could go for another round, a round you wanted no part in witnessing.
You weren't going to be used by him again in order for him to find a quick release. To hell with him and his twisted version of testing someone's loyalty. You felt utterly humiliated and dirty. All you wanted was to go back to the PLF hideout and crawl into your bed and forget this all happened.
How could you be so stupid. He had this all planned out from the start. No wonder he was so quick to help you when the mission started going downhill.
You hated him so much.
You wanted to scream when you realized he told you the room number on purpose despite being in the middle of that. He wanted you come up and catch him in the act, and that's why he had no problem in you watching him do those things to her. He wanted to see what you'd do in that situation. This was all one big joke to him.
Yet you couldn't understand why you were still so horny and soaking wet.
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therealvinelle · 3 years ago
Note
I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.
Oh fuck.
You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.
UMMM.
Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.
I am an outsider looking in.
Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.
The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.
Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.
In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.
What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.
I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."
I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.
And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.
So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.
Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.
It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.
The question is, would they?
Here I finally answer your question.
So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.
Where do they then fall, politically?
(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)
Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!
The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)
Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.
Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.
Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.
More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.
In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.
For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.
Good for them.
There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”
The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.
Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.
This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.
I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.
It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.
As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.
Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.
This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.
He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.
Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.
Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.
More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.
Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.
There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.
I imagine he stays out of this.
Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.
Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.
And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.
Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.
This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.
Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.
Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.
Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.
This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.
TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.
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treesnutsandleaveswrites · 3 years ago
Text
Aftermath
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Pairing: The Bad Batch x Reader (Polyam)
Summary: It’s been a year or so since you left the Batch (caught up with the series timeline, some SPOILERS) Warning: Mentions of death, shooting, yelling, angst, fluff, mentions of slavery, minor TBB SPOILERS
Word Count: 2048
A/N: D-5 is supposed to be a rendition of D-O, which i know isn’t really canon haha
pt xii, pt xiv
XXXXXXX
You rushed through the forest quickly, speaking into your com device.
“I’m making my way to you! Be ready!” You instructed.
“Give me a sec.”
“You have 3 feet to be ready, I’m nearly there!”
“I-”
You burst through the foliage of the forest and grabbed the blaster from your teammate’s waist before shooting the enemies chasing you. You huffed and glared back at them.
“You told me you were good at this!”
“Look, I don’t do short distances!” He tried to explain.
“You’re a damn sniper, snipers do any distance with a clear shot!” You turned to the ship to another teammate, “Everyone on board?”
“Locked and loaded. This might be our last batch for a while…”
“I know.” You sighed, “Get on, we’re leaving.”
“When the Empire said they were gonna make things better, I expected Caetum to be up and running smoothly.”
“The Empire is all the same as the others who tried to keep ‘order’.” You muttered while taking off your helmet, “Let’s just get out of here.”
“This really was your home planet?” A teammate queried.
You nodded, holding onto something as the ship took off. Once you were steady in open space, you moved to the storage part of the ship where there were multiple people huddled together.
“Is everyone alright?” You hung a small lantern to illuminate their faces more.
“Thank you…” An elderly woman said and you smiled, holding her hands in yours as you crouched down.
“I wish I could’ve saved more…”
“You have done so much for us… your name already lingers…”
“The Great Lodestar.” A man spoke up, “I heard from one of the troopers that other planets were talking about you…”
“I… have freed others, but it’s still not enough.”
“It takes time.” The woman assured, “Go and rest.”
You took a moment before leaving the storage room and making your way towards the cockpit.
“We’ve set a course for the Ocsalev System. Ready when you are, Lodestar.”
You nodded, “Make the jump.”
*******
Hunter jumped slightly from a dream in one of the chairs in front of the computers. It was always a constant dream about you… his cyare. He was sure the other boys had such dreams too. It took nearly a month for Wrecker to stop screaming your name in his sleep…
“Hunter? You okay?” Omega’s voice caught his attention as she made her way towards him from the gunner’s mount.
He nodded with a gentle smile before sitting straight up. She furrowed her brows for a moment before humming and opening the cockpit door, which urged Hunter to enter also.
“We’re almost at the coordinates Cid gave us. Odd, she never sets us up on missions where we need help from other mercenaries.” Tech remarked.
“We’re not mercenaries.” Hunter muttered but Omega giggled.
“I think you have to face it, Hunter, we are.”
He sighed before sitting in his seat as Wrecker walked in.
“We almost there yet?”
“Just approaching, it’s best you sit. No need for another head injury.” Echo joked.
“We don’t have to worry about no inhibitor chip anymore!”
“But we do have to worry about how much bacta and ice packs we use on you.” Tech rolled his eyes while easing the ship into the planet’s atmosphere, “Gentlemen, and madam, welcome to the Ocsalev System.”
They landed the Havoc Marauder at a simple docking bay before making their way into the city.
“Stay close, kid.” Hunter ordered as he led the group through the busy streets.
It was fairly crowded with people going in and out of buildings or rushing through the streets. Omega admired the commotion and looked around, but the boys made sure to urge her through the crowds. To her, this city was very different from Ord Mantell, having a lack of technology and more of a natural kick to it. Houses were built around trees and into the side of the mountain, which made Omega want to explore more.
“The device says to go in here to find this so-called ‘Kapu’.”
The batch nodded before making their way into the small shop, seeing it crowded with many different weapons and droid parts. There was an alien at the head of the shop, which boggled Omega.
“What is he? He has so many arms.”
“A besalisk…” Echo explained quietly, “The female ones have up to eight arms.”
They approached the counter as the besalisk worked on a small device, using its multiple arms to hold parts and tools. Hunter cleared his throat.
“We’re looking for Kapu. We were sent by Cid.”
The besalisk nodded while looking up at them, “Clones? Huh, never thought Cid would give clones a chance!” He laughed, “Yeah, I’m Kapu. Come with me and we’ll meet the person who’ll be joining you on your mission.” He urged them with his multiple arms while walking through the back door of the shop. There was a small transport waiting with an Ewok driver. The ewok started yelling in its native language toward Kapu.
“I told you they’d get here when they get here! And here they are! Now come on! Let’s go!” Kapu got into the passenger's seat while the Batch piled up in the back, “Better hold on to something, he’s blind in one eye.”
The batch looked at each other nervously before the transport speeded off out of the city. They arrived at the base of the mountain and followed Kapu towards the small house built into it.
“She just came back from a mission, so let’s hope she’s in a good mood.” He knocked on the door, “I’m coming in, kid!”
He swung the door open, hitting a small droid.
“Aw gee, D-5, what were you doing there?!” Kapu groaned, picking the droid up.
The batch looked around the small house. It was hardly full with anything but basic living necessities. Omega immediately noticed the armor sitting on the table, admiring the visor of the helmet. She picked it up and looked at it closely.
“Wow, this helmet is really similar to yours, Echo! But it has some modifications similar to Tech’s, like the mouth guard, and a sniper’s glass like Crosshairs.”
Kapu placed the droid down and called out again, “Girl, where are you?!”
“I’m here, hold on!” You groaned, “I literally just got back, can’t I have some time?”
“No, boys from Cid are here.”
“Cid? Since when did you start taking jobs from Cid again?”
“Just get out here!” Kapu scolded, sitting down to look at D-5.
You walked through the back door and looked at him, “Did you break my droid again?!”
“He was in the way. These are Cid’s boys.”
You looked up and your breath caught in your throat from the sight in front of you. Hunter was there with Echo and Tech behind him, who were as shocked as you. Wrecker was busy looking at the helmet with Omega, but then Echo hit the side of his head.
“Ow! I thought you said you didn’t want any more head inj-” Wrecker got up and looked at you.
“Kapu, take the kid out back, she’ll help you fix D-5…”
Omega looked to Hunter, who nodded. She followed Kapu out and you closed the door gently behind them before turning back to the batch. You then moved closer to where Hunter was still standing with his brothers.
“I… I know this looks bad…” You stuttered, tears coming to your eyes, “I-I couldn’t let you-”
Hunter had engulfed you into a tight hug and sighed into your shoulder. You were rendered speechless, but returned the hug once you processed what was happening.
“Oh, cyare…” He whispered, pulling away slightly and placing his forehead against yours, “My love…”
After he let you go, Echo hugged you tight. Then Tech. Finally, Wrecker… who kneeled down in front of you and hugged you while digging his face into your stomach.
“We thought we lost you, ad’ika.”
“I’m so sorry…” You whispered, “I should’ve left something to explain, but I didn’t want the Kaminoans to do anything to any of you…”
“It was about the inhibitor chips… wasn’t it?” Echo asked.
You looked at him for a moment before nodding, “Yes…”
“Omega told us about them.” Hunter explained as you all settled down to talk, “Order 66… that’s what they were put in for…”
“To betray the Republic.”
“No. To kill the Jedi.” Echo explained.
“The Jedi?”
“Palpatine said the Jedi betrayed the Republic… tried to assassinate him.”
You shook your head, “No. No-”
“Rex explained it to us a bit further.”
“Rex? Rex is alright?”
“Yeah… we still had the chips in because they didn’t work for us during Order 66.”
“But Rex said we needed to take them out. They were still dangerous. We learned that through Wrecker and his multiple head injuries.” Tech stated.
You took a moment before looking back to them, “Cross… on Caetum, I heard the troopers talking about their new clone commander: Crosshair…”
“Yeah, his chip was working for him, then the Kaminoans improved it’s signal and now he’s with the Empire.”
“Wait, did you say Caetum?” Wrecker asked, “You went to stop the Separatists?”
You sighed, “I needed some time to get some credits and settle… but the Empire got there before I did and nothing really improved. I just got back from one of my last missions there, liberating people so they aren’t enslaved again… But there’s still so many that need help.”
“You’ve been busy, then?” Echo smiled which caused you to smile.
“I guess… but the last mission was a mess and I can’t go back anymore. The Empire is… more controlling than the Republic. They almost caught us last time.”
“‘Us’? You have a new team?”
“No, just some other mercenaries in it for money. Nothing exclusive.”
They all nodded and Wrecker spoke up, “Then maybe you could come back with us! Be a Batcher again!”
“Let’s not get too rash, Wrecker. We still need to get this job done.”
You nodded, “We’ll talk more after. Let’s go see what we’re in for.”
Wrecker cheered and you all walked out of the house. You saw Omega and Kapu sitting against your speeder while D-5 was rolling around.
“We fixed him up.” Kapu smiled.
“Thanks, his balance module was a bit out of place, maybe that was why he got hit by the door.”
“The kid did most of the work, actually.”
You nodded and looked at her, “Omega, right?”
“Yep. And… you’re ‘cyare’ according to Hunter.”
You laughed, “To him, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo… but you can call me Lodestar.”
“Good, ‘cause that would have been weird if I had to start calling you ‘darling’ or something like that.”
You shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind.”
You both laughed before turning to Kapu with the boys as he explained the job.
*******
You fastened the last bit of your armor before picking up your helmet and heading back to your speeder. Omega was sitting in the back while helping Tech with something. Kapu lent two speeder bikes for Wrecker and Hunter to use so you all wouldn’t be packed in the speeder. You walked over to Hunter as he flipped his knife and grinned as he looked you over in slight shock.
“Weird seeing me in armor, huh?”
He smirked, “I think it’s about time, Lodestar.”
You shoved him playfully before he caught you and wrapped an arm around your waist.
“I’m surprised you all have warmed up to seeing me again. I was actually expecting to be yelled at by you or Echo.”
“We’ve been through a lot recently, yelling won’t make anything better...”
“If Crosshair were here, we’d go at it for sure.”
He nodded with a small hum, which made you cup his face, “Omega told me you had to leave him behind on Kamino… It’s okay, we’ll get him back.”
He nodded, leaning in to give you a kiss, but Kapu called.
“You better get going! Almost sundown!”
You turned to acknowledge him before turning back to Hunter, “We’ll have some time after the mission… I promise.”
You got into the speeder as Wrecker and Hunter started up their bikes.
“See you in the morning!” Kapu called, urging D-5 inside.
You put your helmet on before driving off.
XXXXXXX
Taglist: @darkangel4121 @lightning-wolffe @alucas528 @rintheemolion @shadowfoxey @butch-medusae @gabile18
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holden-caulfield · 4 years ago
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Hi bestie! It's me again 😌
So I've been thinking : divination class where reader and Draco have to read each others destiny (you pick the divination method you like best) and they realize it's connected (and in my imagination there's a lot of angst because it's Draco we're talking about and this boy does not have a path of wildflowers ahead 👀, but also fluff because reader is soft)
Voilà ! Thank you for taking my request, ily 🖤
My love, so nice seeing you here again, i love your requests😩
I spent an entire afternoon looking up divination methods and how to read palms. My conclusions? I know nothing.
Also, I tried to make it the slightest bit angsty but it came out fluffier than expected :/
Trouble And Sufferings
↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Summary: draco and reader attend a divination class together which results in revelations for the both of them.
Warnings: none, the title is totally misleading
Word Count: 1276
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//
"Dear class, open your minds and prepare to plunge into the future with the elegant art of palmistry! Today you'll be divided in couples and will read each other's future using only the terminal part of your upper limbs!"
Trelawney's odd words greeted you to class as you looked for a seat to assist to the lesson. Your usual spot was taken so you surveyed the entire class for a free chair, finding it in the higher row.
The seat next to you didn't remain empty for too long for an unfamiliar figure approached you and occupied it quickly.
"Please open your textbooks at page 211 and grasp your partner's palm, i will wander through the class to help those in need."
You opened the textbook in front of you and noticed the person beside you do the same.
"Would you like to go first?" you said glancing up at the blond sat next to you.
"Sure, yes." he stretched his arm in front of him and offered you his hand. You took it in your own and couldn't help but notice how incredibly slender his fingers were, adorned by a couple of silver rings that gave you shivers whenever you barely grazed them with your fingers.
You started running your thumbs on his palm, feeling the softness of it, but perceived him suddenly tensed up and softened your touch even more.
"So, this is... your life line. I think." you said, sliding your thumbs along his palm's most prominent line. You switched your eyes to the page as your thumbs kept gliding on his hand and continued.
"And this one should be..." you said while tracing the line just below the first one with the utmost delicacy, "it should be the head line."
You set your eyes on his face and caught him staring at you.
"Are you sure?"
"Not at all." you admitted with a shy smile lowering your gaze back to your conjoined hands.
He then lifted his hand from your clutch only to grasp your own hand in the process, exposing your palm to his grey eyes.
"The biggest one is the head line, this one is the life line." he said almost whispering as he traced your palm delicately. You felt shivers running up your back but did your best to hide them as his cold eyes bored directly into yours.
"What does it say then?" you asked, inching forward now completely invested in the activity. He seemed to know what he was doing, he probably paid more attention to divination classes than you did and you were thankful for that.
"Well, your life line isn't too long, but it's quite deep." he looked up from your hand to catch your worried expression and let out a low chuckle, "It does not mean you'll have a short life."
You sighed in relief and smiled warmly as he gazed into your book, moving slightly closer to your body. "At least i hope so."
You jabbed his arm lightly and he smirked in response, your hand still safely in his.
"If it doesn't mean i will die soon, what does it mean then?" you asked impatiently, now sitting on the edge of your seat.
"That, I don't know." you have him a disappointed look and retrieved your hand from his hold.
"Give me yours, now that i now which one is which, it's child's play." you didn't miss him roll his eyes at your comments and grasped his wrist once more. "Your head line is fragmented."
"Nice...?"
"Yeah, nice, it means you'll have moments of revelation. Or mental strife, you choose." you declared confidently, eyes still set on the page.
"I don't think it works like that, you know?" he interjected cockily. You lifted your eyes from the book to catch him staring at it, way closer than before. You felt suddenly extremely hot, as if the sun was inside the room, right next to you, burning your skin.
"How are you two doing? You, my dear, tell me what you see!" Draco stepped back when professor Trelawney approached you and you weren't quite sure whether you were grateful or annoyed because of it. You returned your attention to Draco's palm and began.
"Uhm... i see a great future full of... trials but happiness in the end?" you had no idea what you were saying and apparently Trelawney knew too since she grasped Draco's hand in her own and began scrutinizing it.
"Oh dear... this is not good, not good at all! Misfortunes! Hard times! Oh, your past hasn't been kind but your future might be even worse, unless..."
"Unless what?" you asked alarmingly as Trelawney kept predicting Draco's unfortunate future, but he didn't seem too fazed, keeping his eyes on the bizarre professor.
"Unless another force comes into his life, that is." she said matter-of-factly but your confused expression was enough for her to move her wand in the air and summon a crystal ball directly on the table.
"Give me your hands, my dears, we'll embark on a journey now! Please liberate your minds so that we can explore your future together." you and Draco offered your hands to the professor, who grasped it immediately in her own, giving each other a skeptical look.
You closed your eyes and did your best to 'liberate your mind'. You heard her mutter something under her breath but kept your head blank.
You then opened your eyes and saw Trelawney move closer to the crystal ball to inspect it but as soon as she saw its content, she jumped back, a hand over her heart in shock.
"What happened? What is it?" you asked, more and more curious, and immediately looked down at the ball with Draco who had been imperturbable until then.
You could see nothing in it but swirling liliac smoke and, judging from Draco's expression, he saw the same. You tried looking up at him, hoping to find answers, but were met with more doubts. You both faced professor Trelawney who was still gaping at you two.
Draco was growing annoyed with the whole situation and Trelawney's obvious overreaction, so he took the book from the table and began skimming through it.
"Professor? Is it that bad?" you asked. Trelawney regained some sort of control but did not speak yet.
"Purple smoke is a sign of trouble, says here, so i'd say yes." stated Draco, closing the book with a huff.
"Trouble that can be overcome!" spoke suddenly the professor with her usual prophetic tone, "But that's not all! Dear boy, the things I saw... and you! You, my dear, you are crucial!"
You furrowed your brows as Trelawney's lanky index finger pointed at you.
"I'll be the cause of trouble?"
"On the contrary! You are the solution!" she spoke a little louder, gaining the attention of other students who were still deciphering palms. "And you, mr Malfoy, you'll be the solution to hers!"
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Trelawney got up from her chair and cheerily muttered, "Superb! Indeed superb!" as she continued her path among other students in need of help.
You turned your head towards the blond beside you, looking pensive in his seat. You were still utterly confused by the professor's words and decided to ask him.
"Do you think she's right?"
"Of course not." your face unconsciously fell a little, "She's mad if she thinks that troubles and sufferings are something superb."
You smiled at the comment and caught his eyes, causing a twin smirk to appear on his face, a face you reckoned was indeed worth the troubles and sufferings you were apparently going to undergo.
//
Taglist <3
@turn-to-page-394-please @gwlvr @dracosaccount @astoria-malfcy @dracomalfoys-wh0re @eunoniaa @cherie-draco @oeuryale @wh0re4blaise @90smalfoy @sanctimoniousslytherpuff @maybesandohnos @dracoswhore007 @macheregrace @paulina1998 @bungunz @malfoysbiitch @dreamy-clousds @malfoyxxdraco23 @saayanaaa @xlauren-malfoyx @riddleswh0r3crux @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @elevatorsdoor @dracoscene @beforeoursunsets
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elizabeth-mitchells · 3 years ago
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What if when Deena kills Goode and the Shadyside curse is broken, all of the victims finally get to rest in peace, and they are all reunited?
Starting with Sarah, waking up to meet Hannah again. All the killers waking up, reunited with their loved ones. Everyone from 1666, 1978, 1994, waking up in some perfect place and then meeting each other and...
okay i wrote it
Sarah…
Sarah…
At first, there was only darkness, calling out her name.
“Sarah?”
The darkness started to bleed. Black gave way into powerful red. It was a familiar voice calling out her name.
“Sarah, dearest, wake up.”
Light started breaking through the red. A blue sky above was revealed, and then, the loveliest of faces. The woman she’d loved and died for.
“Hannah?”
“There you are,” Hannah smiled, as she continued to lovingly brush away the red moss covering all of Sarah’s body.
Sarah gasped for air, and jumped to a seated position. She took a deep breath. It felt like being born again. Soon, it registered there wasn’t an ounce of pain in her entire being. In fact, all she could feel was the warmth of the sun, the softness of the moss around her, and the tenderness of Hannah’s eyes.
“You’re finally here,” Hannah whispered in awe, placing a gentle hand in her bewildered lover’s cheek.
“Oh, Hannah, my love,” Sarah returned the gesture.
Then before wondering at all about explanations or reason or logic, Hannah pulled her in for a kiss. It felt exactly as Sarah remembered, and even better. Better than life itself, Hannah Miller’s kiss. When they had to pull away, due to Hannah’s growing smile and Sarah’s overwhelmed tremble of her entire body, they continued to rest their foreheads against each other until their breathing calmed down. “Hannah,” Sarah said, pulling back a little more to look around them, “What is this place?”
“Peace,” Hannah replied.
“What?” Sarah frowned. She stared at the ground, covered in that recognizable red shade as far as she could look. The trees, the large rock beside them, it was all familiar. “Where are we? Is this Union?”
Hannah shook her head softly. “It’s just… peace,” she insisted. There was no other way to explain it.
It appeared Sarah didn’t need to hear more. She exhaled a sigh of relief. Then her eyes met the love of her life again. “I’m so sorry it took me so long,” she apologized.
For the first time since their reunion, Hannah looked slightly less than blissfully happy. “It was nothing, Sarah. Time was meaningless without you,” Hannah stated with loving fierceness, “Eternity begins right now, with you, and only with you.”
Simultaneously they moved in for another kiss. Sarah’s instincts told her to keep kissing her lover. Danger could be around the corner. Threats. Neighbors. Evil. They had to make the most of whatever time they had. But… hadn’t they left all of that behind? Didn’t they win? That victorious feeling blossomed inside her chest and soothed her fervor. As the kisses slowed down, they found the strength to pull away from each other.
“Who did it?” Hannah wondered as her hands caressed Sarah’s hair. “Finally, who managed to break the curse?”
Immediately, Sarah grinned. “Two girls. Two wonderful, wonderful girls. I am sure you would have loved them. And their marvelous friends. And I pray we won’t see them around here for a long, long time.”
The two girls shared a blissful chuckle. “Good,” Hannah nodded.
There was a brief moment of silence then. Hannah studied Sarah. How terribly she had missed her all this time. How long had she waited for her lover to achieve her well-earned peace. And Sarah Fier wouldn’t have let herself rest until her entire land had also reached equal freedom. Sitting beside her, Sarah took a moment to look around them again.
“This is pretty,” Sarah commented about the red moss that covered the entire ground. She ran her hand over it and marveled at the lovely, perfect softness of it.
“You’re welcome,” Hannah replied with lips pursed into a playful smirk. It was true she had been the one to place the crown of red moss on her fallen savior’s head.
“The afterlife has made you even more playful, love,” Sarah lovingly accused her.
Hannah looked nothing but proud to hear that. It wouldn’t be paradise if they weren’t there laughing together. Suddenly, Hannah’s visible joy increased, and she turned eager to be on the move. “Follow me,” she said, standing up and offering her hand to the other girl.
“Where, my darling?” Sarah asked, despite the fact that was already standing up and willing to follow Hannah anywhere, to the ends of heaven and hell if necessary.
“There’s a lot I want to show you,” Hannah smiled. “They’re all coming here.”
“Who?”
Sarah was being led by the hand. Hannah looked over her shoulder at her with a brilliant smile that had been the light to inspire Sarah’s fight and therefore became the miraculous force behind the ultimate liberation from the curse. Hannah was all light, and hope, and love, and good news, for eternity.
“Everyone,” she replied.
--
Sarah and Hannah knelt behind a rock and looked on at the most wonderful sight.
“Henry?” Sarah exclaimed in a breathless whisper.
Hannah was holding her hand, and Sarah’s grip was so strong it nearly hurt, if they could hurt in that place. “And my dad,” Hannah added, “and everyone else.”
It was true. Not everyone had made it, but a group from Union was right there, happily wandering around the woods, stepping on the soft moss, exchanging fresh, delicious fruits, and talking to each other. Henry looked perfectly healthy and happy. He was talking with Lizzie and Isaac, the pair of friends were smiling brighter than ever. Pastor Miller looked as happy as a man could be, surrounded by children that looked all healed, that couldn’t feel nor remember any pain. The Berman sisters were there too. Abigail cried in relief and Constance made fun of her for it, while eagerly returning the embrace. A few feet behind them, the widow Mary was dancing with her husband and child.
“Look at them!” Sarah sighed, there were tears shimmering in her eyes. Joyful tears.
“You made this possible, you know?” Hannah told her.
Overwhelmed by her emotions, Sarah wrapped her arms around Hannah’s waist, and held tightly, perfectly safe and comforted by her lover’s arms wrapped over her shoulders, holding her close.
“What did you do?” Sarah wondered after a while of the two of them simply holding each other. “After… what happened with you?”
“I left,” Hannah replied simply. “I left, and Union separated in two. I was a widow, I decided, and our friends weren’t many, but eventually, we made a place for ourselves.”
“Shadyside,” Sarah smiled.
“Oh, have you heard about it?”
Sarah laughed at Hannah’s playfulness once more. “I have seen glimpses of it.”
“Then you will love what’s next.”
--
Hannah hadn’t been wrong. The more they walked around the woods, the more Sarah’s heart overflowed with joy. Everywhere around them were victims of the curse coming home, families reunited, lovers embracing, kids being kids.
A tall man taking off his mask, breathing freely for the first time in too long. A little boy being picked up by his loving parents. A man throwing his arms around his friends. No weapons on sight. Nobody a killer. They were who they always had been. Their loved ones remembered them as such. Forgiveness filled the air. They were free, and loved, and at peace. And there were more of them.
“Ruby!” Sarah exclaimed. It was her turn to drag Hannah by the hand as she rushed to take a closer look at the young girl. “She was so strong,” Sarah praised her, her voice trembling with emotion. The young Ruby Lane was running into the arms of her friends. There was no need to forgive. There was only forgetting the bad things that happened, things that weren’t the killer’s fault, for they weren’t killers but the first victims each time.
“Where’s her mother?” Hannah wondered.
“Not here yet,” Sarah replied, “By now she has probably heard the good news, I am sure. Last thing I heard, she has a good friend.”
“She will be welcomed by her daughter when her time comes,” Hannah added. “They will be eternally happy.” After thinking about it for a long moment, she looked at the love of her life with a proud smile. “You were looking after them, weren’t you?”
“I did my best,” Sarah looked down bashfully. “I’m not as strong as the curse. But I could nudge certain things to go the right way here and there.”
“You’re mistaken, my heart,” Hannah fondly shook her head. “If anything, you have proved you are stronger than even the Devil.”
Silently, Sarah lifted their joined hands to leave a kiss on the back of Hannah’s hand. She faintly wondered if this entire experience would consist of always being overcome by emotion. Her angel. Their friends, their people, the Shadysiders.
“This is... incredible,” Sarah sighed.
“It’s all thanks to you, Sarah Fier,” Hannah said.
“No…”
“Yes, of course it was you,” Hannah looked at her earnestly. “You kept your promise. You haunted the Goodes until you found someone that could help you break the curse. They couldn’t have done it without you.”
“And I couldn’t have done it without you,” Sarah replied with a trembling voice.
Hannah wouldn’t let her remain wistful too long though. “There’s more,” Hannah said, lighting up smiles in both their faces, as they resumed their journey across the woods.
--
“Oh! Hannah, look!” Sarah exclaimed, hurrying her pace as the couple neared the next clearing in the woods.
“Calm down, Sarah,” Hannah laughed fondly. When they were close enough, she stopped her, and wrapped her arms around her to keep her still. “We can’t meet them yet.”
“Why not?” Sarah wondered. She turned her face slightly to look at her lover, and seeing her face so close over her shoulder, she couldn’t help but place a sweet kiss on that inviting pair of lips.
Hannah blinked slowly. Life, death, and beyond, she would never be unaffected by Sarah’s affection. Finally, she smiled. “You will be famous, dear,” she said, “And I am not ready to share you yet.”
The two of them shared a laugh. Sarah seemed to accept that answer, and relaxed in Hannah’s arms. They rested their foreheads together and basked in the silence for a moment. It didn’t last long though. A loud yelp of surprise coming from somewhere nearby startled them.
“Oh, I’m happy to see her,” Hannah chuckled as the two of them moved closer and hid behind a tree to watch the scene in front of them unfold.
Cindy Berman stood up from the ground with a gasp, staring at her somehow not pristine polo shirt. “There’s still moss?!” she nearly yelled.
“Seriously, Berman? Even here?” teased a voice from behind her.
“Alice!” Cindy really yelled then. She jumped in the arms of the other girl and started peppering her face with kisses while Alice laughed loudly and happily, holding her close.
Observing them from a safe distance away, Sarah and Hannah shared an amused look. “They are a lovely pair,” Sarah whispered.
The blonde girl nodded, then asked Sarah, “How is her sister? The younger one?”
“Older now,” Sarah replied with an affectionate smile. “She is fine, and she will be doing better.”
“I hope she won’t be here any time soon. But that will be a reunion I will love to see,” Hannah added. They were watching as the realization dawned on Cindy Berman’s face. Her younger sister wasn’t there. Ziggy was alive. It was the best part of this entire moment for her.
A few steps behind Cindy and Alice, Arnie affectionately slapped Tommy Slater’s back. “Don’t worry man, you’ll get a hug too,” he said.
The blonde guy chuckled. He glanced at his hands, as if expecting an axe to still be there. Seeing himself free, he took a look around. They were surrounded by a group of children in their blue t-shirts. At first, they looked confused, dazed, but they quickly gained their footing. They started running around, openly laughing while a couple of teenagers almost chased after them to protect them, carrying the instinct of old camp counselors with them. They weren’t in danger though. There was nothing to fear. Everyone greeted each other with smiles, and Tommy smiled the brightest.
--
“Oh…” Sarah breathed out. She was delighted to see so many people reunited, but it didn’t come without a heavy weight on top of it. “So many children…”
“I know,” Hannah agreed. She kept a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, offering silent support. Noticing this, Sarah placed one of her hands atop Hannah’s. They’d missed each other. She felt she needed to be touching the other girl at all times.
“Why… How was so much cruelty possible? So much horror,” she wondered out loud.
“It was the devil’s work, Sarah,” Hannah did her best to reply. “It wasn’t human. Nobody here was ever cruel. And the horror is all over now.”
“It is?”
“It is,” Hannah promised. Her hand had moved to Sarah’s face, and with the back of her fingers, she tenderly caressed the girl’s cheek.
Sarah took her time breathing in and out. Staring at the love of her life, as alive as she ever knew her. Breathing in and out. The ethereal world around them, perfectly real. Breathing in and out. Her racing heart had barely calmed down enough when she was startled by a sound of rustling leaves coming from behind her. “What was that?” She asked in a tense whisper.
“Do not be scared, Sarah,” Hannah replied quickly. “There is no evil here. nothing to hunt us anymore.”
“No threats?” Sarah wondered, staring at Hannah with a small frown on her face.
“No fear,” Hannah reassured her.
“No hate?” Sarah inquired, though this time a small smile was growing on her lips.
“Nothing but peace.”
“And joy?”
“And love,” Hannah grinned. Then, seeing as she couldn’t find a reason not to, she leaned in forward quickly to steal a small kiss. “And friendship,” she playfully added. She took Sarah’s hand in hers once more to lead her to a new spot. “Take a look.”
--
There, with his hands behind his back as if afraid of himself, Ryan Torres was repeatedly apologizing to his friend. Heather was tearing up, shaking her head and dismissing his apologies. Her hands had been on his shoulders, but she soon pulled him into a warm hug. Nervously at first, he eventually reciprocated the embrace, carefully holding her close as she whispered soothing words to him. A few steps away from them, staff from the mall, and the hospital, and the police station were sharing awe-struck conversations. The heavenly spectacle of watching old friends come together, victims open their eyes again, friendship being born in the afterlife… it was all a mesmerizing sight. Sarah believed she could have spent a good portion of eternity simply staring at the people around her.
That’s when Sarah and Hannah were startled by a pair of voices coming from nearby. They simply had to move closer to get a better look at them.
“How does my hair look?”
“Aren’t you dead?”
“Yes, idiot. But how’s my hair?”
“It’s fine!” Simon laughed, accepting the hand Kate was offering him to pull him up from the ground.
He didn’t waste a single second wrapping his arms around her and holding her as closely as possible. Kate pressed her face to his chest, closed her eyes tightly, and didn’t even try to hide her smile. The two best friends enjoyed the embrace for a while, and eventually pulled away slowly. They brushed away the red moss that lingered on their clothes and slowly started taking a look around them.
“Where are we?” Simon wondered.
Kate didn’t really hear him, though. She’d seen something that stopped her in her tracks. “Deena?” Kate blurted out.
“Sam?” Simon exclaimed, equally as surprised.
Realizing they’d been caught, Sarah and Hannah hid behind a tree. They shared a look, wide eyes, and guilty smiles. A second later, they were running away, hand in hand, to avoid causing a confusion, for the time being. When they were safely away from most curious eyes, right in the middle of their gorgeous, red-tinted forest, they stopped. They had been laughing the entire time. They came together at once for a new kiss, familiar and exhilarating at once. Their hands lovingly cradling each other’s faces. A perfect embrace. A love that resisted life and death and three hundred years in between. They could kiss forever, until the end of times, and even then, with souls intertwined, their love would last longer than time itself.
All around them, love continued to blossom. There was the red moss, spreading further and further away from the spot where they stood, welcoming more and more souls. The freed victims were starting to leave the spots where they woke up, they were starting to explore. All over there were stories intertwining, timeliness melting into one, friendships being born. People were confused, and shocked, and fascinated by everything around them. Cindy Berman met Abigail and Constance. Tommy Slater shared a hug with Ruby Lane. Heather started a conversation with Alice. Pastor Cyrus Miller carried Billy Barker on his shoulders. Ryan Torres shook hands with Harry Rooker. Isaac met Simon, and Kate met Lizzie. Ruby Lane’s friends joined the Camp Nightwing’s counselors. Parents found their children, friends were reunited, lovers found each other, everyone searched and found new friends and people they had lost, and some of them patiently waited for the distant future where they’ll meet again the ones they left behind. Tales from the seventeenth century met myths from the eighteenth, legends from the nineteenth, and songs from the twentieth century. Every now and then, somebody made a joke about a certain family that wasn’t present, and would never be. Even the trees, the leaves, and moss at their feet seemed to laugh and rejoice in the Goode’s absence.
At the center of it all, Sarah Fier and Hannah Miller remained. They kissed, they laughed, they danced, they held each other, and their love continued to shine strong enough to sustain a land of pure and absolute peace that would last forever.
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sullustangin · 3 years ago
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Fictober Prompt 2: “You Have No Proof”/Flufftober Prompt 2: Sneaking Out
Fandom: SWTOR
Rating: PG
Pairing: Theron Shan/Smuggler
Lana glared at her uncooperative interrogation subject.  “I will find out how that ship got off Odessen, with or without your help.”
Her counterpart shrugged his shoulders and raised his arms in the air, being excessively dramatic, in her opinion.  “You have no proof I assisted.”  His feet were kicked up in the executive briefing suit’s long table, datapads scattered across the surface.  
Lana gave him a withering look as she crossed her arms. “Theron, I would be a fool to think you weren’t involved in one of her plots at this point....”  Lana paused for a moment before seizing upon another theory.  “...or maybe this is one of your schemes and she’s acting as your merry tool of chaos again.”
“I couldn’t calculate the odds for you.  Insufficient data,” he replied with an insufferable smirk. 
Lana, in a moment of frustration, puffed a jet of air up to move a lock of hair out of her eye line.  “She needs to be here.  She is the Commander.”
“You’re trying to nail gelatin to a wall. She needs her liberty, her flexibility... her spontaneity.   Told you that on the Revanite op:  your results will be sub-optimal if you don’t let her.... you know... be a smuggler.”  Theron gave her a look that clearly conveyed he thought she was missing the obvious. 
Lana gave up.  “Could you please have her home in less than a week, this time?  And without riling up the Hutts more than necessary?  They do not take it kindly when she raids their pleasure barges and liberates their dancers.”
“You know, she did that thing like she did on Rishi and got them to unionize.” 
“Yes, I heard.”  A trill went up from Lana’s datapad, and she immediately dropped her gaze.  “How ... really, for people who embrace peace and not emotion... “  Lana turned on her heel.  “I’ll deal with you AND our wayward commander later.”
Theron watched Lana hastily move out of the executive meeting room, down the hallway, and to the lift that would take her to the war room.  The second she disappeared, he was on his feet and disabling the alarm on the window, his implants running a script to loop the holocam for a few minutes.
He’d jimmied the window’s safety latch open just as an XS Light Stock freighter appeared over the treeline and slowly cruised toward him.�� Theron slammed the window behind him, timed his jump, and took the leap.
His boots touched down on the hull of the ship, and he made his way toward the hatch.  When he was just barely within range, Theron reactivated the window’s alarm and the security holo, letting them resume normal functions.  He started to whistle as he slid down the ladder.  Theron heard the ship’s engines roar to life as it reached exit velocity and escaped Odessen‘s atmosphere.
His girl met him in the hallway leading away from the cockpit.  “She thinks I’m already off planet?”  Eva asked, eyes eager and bright.
“Yeah, she’s thinking you’re long gone... you just barely missed her.”  Theron adjusted his clothes from his abrupt exit through the window.  “We cut it a little close.” 
Eva draped her arms around his shoulders.  “We can always count on Guss to make chaos in the enclave. The risk is worth the reward.” 
“I’ll say.”
Theron wasn’t sure how long their hello kiss went on for, but he had to draw back to catch his breath and ask, “Where to?”
“I have a few boltholes in the Outer Rim.”  Eva grinned up at him as she ran a thumb over his jaw.  “Left one on Yavin, if you wanted to --”
“Check off a few things on a few lists?”  His smile matched hers.  “Yeah.”  Theron bowed his head, and their lips met again as they headed toward the cockpit to settle in for the jump to hyperspace.
“Don’t think she expected me to finally trump your workaholic tendencies and actually steal both of us away...”
“That’s her problem now.”
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staticscreenwriting · 4 years ago
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Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes // 5
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Five - Dirty Dancing
Masterlist
Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)
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Bucky wakes up to music. It's playing from outside the room, echoing through the halls and filling the apartment with sound.
It reminds him of when he was a kid and his mom would make them all breakfast as the radio would softly play in the background. She'd always have a smile on her face and twirl around the kitchen and sometimes, when they were still little enough, she'd pick up him or one of his sisters and slowly sway along with them in her arms.
It's a hazy memory, he's barely able to grasp it, but it's there nonetheless and that makes all the difference.
Rays of sun flood the apartment, coloring it in hues of orange and gold. Bucky steps out of (Y/N)’s room and into the hallway from which he can see straight into the kitchen. (Y/N)’s standing by the stove, a frilly pink apron wrapped around her waist and spatula in hand. Her hips shake slightly to the beat of the song and her lips move along with the lyrics.
Bucky wonders if he’ll ever get that. This feeling of pure comfort in his own home. To find who he really is and allow himself to be that person, no inhibitions, no holding back. Just be himself and be confident in who that might be.
“ You can keep standing there like a creep or you can come over here and help me, grumpy”
At the sound of her voice, he jumps a little, too lost in could-bes and what-ifs to realize she’s long noticed him leaning against the doorway. Her hair is a mess and there’s still eyeliner and glitter from last night stuck to her skin. But Bucky thinks she’s never looked better. It’s an intimate moment, to watch her in all her imperfect ways, move around her own home, being the most comfortable and at ease she’s ever been. There’s something about the way she looks at him then, showered in golden sunlight, a bright smile on her face. Bucky knows what it is he feels, deep down inside of him, flickering up like a light in the dark. He knows what it is. It’s not a feeling you forget once you’ve felt it.
He’s not gonna say it though, not gonna admit it to himself or anyone. All that can come from it is misery and heartbreak and while his heart is of very little value to him, hers means everything. So he’ll ignore it, shove it to the deepest darkest corner of himself and try not to acknowledge it in hopes it’ll go away.
“ You’re cooking? “ he asks as he steps up next to her, eyebrows raised in uncertainty.
“I’m making pancakes, and don’t look at me like that!” (Y/N) replies, swatting him with a dish towel, “ I know my cookies weren’t the best and I am well aware that my coffee sucks. But if there’s one thing I can make, it’s pancakes. Trust me. “
He does trust her. It’s something that he only fully realizes at that moment. Such an insignificant little moment. He trusts her, which is terrifying but also liberating at the same time. Maybe his life is on the right path. Maybe things can get better. Step by tiny step.
“ Hey, I ate your cookies, didn’t I? “
She looks up at him, a small smile playing on her lips, eyes shining with — something he can’t quite place. Maybe, he thinks, maybe he doesn’t need to know what it means. It means something and that's all that counts in the grand scheme of things.
“Yeah, yeah you did.”
For a moment it’s just them and the music and the bliss of a morning spent with a friend.
“ Okay, hand me the batter please?” (Y/N) says and points towards a big blue bowl standing by on the counter to his right. As he hands it to her though, (Y/N) doesn’t immediately start pouring the batter, instead, she dips her finger into it and holds it out to Bucky.
“ Try it, tell me if it’s too sweet. “
He’s hesitant for a moment. You don’t just go around licking your friends’ fingers. Surely social cues haven’t changed that much. But when she moves her hand closer once again and adds a determined “taste it before it drips onto the floor”, he wraps his lips around her finger, tasting the sweet pancake batter. It’s not too sweet, not at all, it’s perfect. He can’t really voice that thought though, not when his mind is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere it really shouldn’t be.
At that moment Bucky feels something he hasn’t felt in forever — arousal.
“ Good? “ she questions him as she pours the batter into the pan, a sizzling sound filling the kitchen.
Buck nods, completely at a loss for words. This is entirely silly and inappropriate. You’re not supposed to feel those things for your friends. Wasn’t this exactly what they talked about in the Harry and Sally movie? Sex ruining friendships. He can’t and won’t let that happen. Not with (Y/N). Not when he’s just starting to trust her. He needs this friendship more than he cares to admit.
“Grumpy? “
“ Hmm? Oh uh — yeah it’s good. “
And it is good, too good to give up. Too good to jeopardize it for some fleeting sense of passion. Too good to ever let go.
It’s ridiculous of him to put any sensual notions to such a silly little gesture. These things can be friendly. Innocent. People probably do it all the time with no ulterior motives. Maybe he needs to go with the times, let go of antiquated morals. Yeah, surely that’s what he’s gotta do.
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They’re sitting by the kitchen counter, (Y/N)’s plate licked clean while Bucky is struggling to finish his pile of pancakes.
“ Do you want the rest of mine? “
“ Did you not like them? “
“ No, I did! I ate an entire pile already. But I can see the way you’re lusting after them. Come on. Open up. “
He cuts off a piece, lathers it in the syrup pooling on his plate, and holds it out towards her. Nothing sexual about it, just two friends sharing food. Absolutely nothing sensual about the way her lips wrap around the fork, they’re still tinted red from last night. Absolutely no dirty thoughts as the syrup drips down her chin. Or when she uses her thumb to wipe it away then licks the sticky liquid off of her fingers. All innocent. All —
“ Have you ever seen 9 ½ weeks? “ she asks him, looking up at him through her thick lashes.
“ No. What’s it about? “
“ Um — “ she starts then laughs to herself as if she’s sharing a funny inside joke with herself “ nevermind. “
“ Noooo, you can’t just start something and then not give me an explanation” he declares as the two of them get up and put the dishes into the dishwasher.
“ You know, Grumpy. There are a few things you better figure out on your own, trust me.”
“ Now you’re just being mean. “
“ No, I’m not I — “ her eyes grow wide as the song changes again and a big bright smile overtakes her entire face. Messy hair, makeup smudged, a smile on her face. God, he wishes they could stay in this little bubble forever. Hurt doesn’t exist here. Only them. Only happy things.
“ I forgot Dirty Dancing.”
“ What? “
“ You don’t know Dirty Dancing. “
“ I know plenty of dancing, thank you very much.”
“ No, Bucky. It’s a movie. It’s one of the most famous romantic movies and I forgot about it. I made a list of all the movies I wanna watch with you but didn’t think of Dirty fucking dancing. Sorry for swearing.”
“ You made a list? “
“ Yes, Grumpy. I made a list because I take this very seriously and I intend to make you watch them all with me because — because it’s fun and I like spending time with you. “
People, Bucky thinks, often take the smallest things for granted. The smallest things that make the most impact. That you will remember forever and cherish with all your heart. Like this one. People also don’t tell each other enough how much their friendships actually mean to them. People should. It feels wonderful.
“ I like spending time with you too.”
She grants him another sunshine smile before grabbing his hands and dancing along to the song. It’s faster than their late-night sway on the balcony, way less coordinated and there’s more jumping on her part and more shaking of — pretty much every body part.
This is so her. Chaotic and a little messy but so unapologetic. So fun. So happy.
“ Because IIIIII've haaaaaad the time of myyyyyy lifeeeee. No I neeeeeever felt this way before. Yes I swear it's the truuuuuuuuth. And I ooooowe it all to youuuuuu.”
“ That’s a catchy song,” Bucky says as a smile finds a way onto his lips. Sometimes it feels nice to surround yourself with people who make you smile. It’s one of the little pleasures in life one should allow themself to indulge in.
Bucky wishes he could bottle up this moment and never let go of it. Keep it for himself forever. That’s the thing about losing your memories, it makes you realize how precious every moment is and it makes you want to hold on tightly to each and every one as they happen.
“Right? I can guarantee you’ll be humming this song all day.”
(Y/N) twirls herself under his arm, away from him, then back before her eyes fall onto his glove-covered hands.
“ You don’t have to wear them for me, you know that, right? “
Sometimes he doesn’t even remember he’S wearing them, it’s become such a regular thing to him now. They are a part of him like the arm itself. They’re a shield really. From looks and judgment. And maybe, if he’s being entirely true to himself, they’re also to keep his eyes from focusing too much on the shiny silver of his hand. Of the fact that he will never be whole again. That he will never be able to feel a loving touch there ever again.
“ I know. It’s not you I’m worried about. “
“ Is it you? “
Bucky scrunches his nose up in discomfort. Talking about feelings wasn’t really a thing back when he was younger, especially for men. Sure there had been late-night talks with Steve about god and the world. About their hopes and fears and about the future. But those were few and far between and really opening himself up was never one of Bucky’s strong points. Talking about your feelings makes you vulnerable and being vulnerable was the last thing Bucky was ever allowed to be back then.
But as he said before, maybe it’s time to give up on antiquated ways.
So he nods “ Yeah. It’s — I still have a complicated relationship with the arm. I know it’s part of me and I’m glad it was given to me but it’s a huge reminder of all that I’ve lost and of a version of me that I can never go back to. A man I can never be again.”
“ Bucky,” (Y/N) starts and takes his face in between her hands. It’s a touch so soft, he can’t remember ever being handled this gently. Like a baby bird. Like a piece of porcelain. Like a treasure too precious to break. “I will never be able to fully understand how you’re feeling and I know that some of those things you have to go through alone and do the work yourself. But let me tell you something. Whoever you used to be might be gone but there’s a long-ass future waiting and it lets you be whoever you want to be. Maybe it’s time to let go of the man you were and start being the man you are because that one’s pretty great. And your arm is as much a part of that greatness as your smile or your constant grumpy mood. It’s what makes you you and you are really cool, honestly. “
His heart beats faster and stops entirely all at the same time. When he was younger he used to relish in the compliments thrown his way. He gracefully accepted them all with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Nowadays it’s hard to believe them. Hell, it was so hard to have faith in Steve’s words. To believe that he was really worth all the effort and trouble Steve and the others went through, for him of all people. It’s so hard believing you are worth something when all you can see are your wrongdoings and shortcomings.
He wants to believe her words though. If only for a moment. If only for right now, safe and sound in their little bubble as the sun filters through the windows and the tastes of syrup still lingers in his tongue.
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A few days later...
“They’re screening Dirty Dancing at the cinema around the block from me! Starts at 8pm. Come meet me, I won’t take no for an answer! xx “
He reads the message and tries to remember the way he felt that morning a few days ago when they danced around her kitchen. When she told him he was worth something. When she made him believe he wasn’t the actual worst person walking this earth. A disgrace. A mistake. A killer.
But every time he tries to go back to the bubble, a different pair of eyes show up in his mind. Eyes filled with sadness, with unimaginable suffering, with grief. All of which he put there.
He ran into Yori last night on his way home. The old man looked more fail than usual, sadder, more tired. Bucky found out why a few minutes later when he asked Yori about the cake in his grocery bag. The one with the white and green frosting.
“ It would be my son’s birthday today. I know he’s not here anymore but he was crazy about these cakes ever since he was a kid. Felt like remembering him. Would you like to join me for a piece? “
Bucky made up some half-assed excuse why he couldn’t, rushed to his apartment, and had a full-on breakdown. The kind that you don’t realize is happening until you’re all the way in the center of the hurricane.
There are shards of glass on his floor from when he threw a bottle against the wall. It’s a shame when you can’t even drown your sorrows in alcohol. His cheeks, he’s sure, are stained with tears that he had kept inside for so long.
How could he ever spend another second with (Y/N) when this is the kind of person he is. Brainwashing or not. The blood of Yori’s son is on his hands. Yori’s pain is his doing. All this grief and this hurt. It’s his fault and his alone. And Yori is just one of so many.
(Y/N) deserves a friend that doesn’t have a body count. Someone who doesn’t know what it feels when someone loses their life at his hands. Someone who doesn’t go to sleep seeing the eyes of those he’s killed. Someone who isn’t him.
His phone rings and he expects it to be (Y/N). She’s one of those people that text you then immediately call you right after. She likes to talk. In-person or over the phone. He doesn’t know if he wants to answer. Doesn’t know what to say. Would it be easier to just tell her not to contact him again? To rip off the bandaid quickly and then deal with the pain afterward?
Before he can come up with an answer to any of those questions, his eyes register the name on the caller display.
“ What?” he grumbles and leans his head against the wall.
“ Well, aren't you a happy chappy today. “
“ Sam, now’s not a good time. “
Sam hesitates for a moment then his voice sounds out from the speakers again.
“ Hey, Bucky. Are you okay? “
For a second, Bucky thinks about saying yes. He wants to keep on pretending the way he did so many times before. Wants to deal with this all by himself and not have anyone else get caught in his mess.
But he can’t. He’s tearing at the seams. He’s barely holding himself together, cracking open more and more with each passing second. So he takes a deep breath and tells the truth.
“ No. No, I’m not. “
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30 minutes. No actually 34 minutes. He’s 34 minutes late. In fact, he hasn’t even answered her god damn text. He’s read it. Hasn’t answered though. And while that’s not entirely unlike Bucky, it still annoys her. Especially since when she tried to call him, the line was busy. So surely he’s on his phone. Is it too much to ask for a little reply?
If he doesn’t want to come, that's no big deal, (Y/N) tells herself, but a quick text would be the bare minimum he could give her.
Pout on her face and mood soured, (Y/N) enters the cinema and slumps down onto one of the plush red velvet seats. Not even in the mood for popcorn anymore, thanks Bucky.
There are hardly any people in there with her. Probably because by now almost every person on this planet has seen Dirty Dancing before and the weather is actually quite nice out tonight so most would rather enjoy the last rays of sun before winter will fall upon them than be stuck in a dark stuffy cinema watching a decade-old movie.
Not her though.
And if Bucky thinks she’s gonna miss out on watching this classic masterpiece because he can’t be bothered to show up, well he’s gravely mistaken. And yeah, maybe she’s being a bit dramatic, there might be a perfectly valid explanation for his no-show. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
What happens if he actually goes on to date Leah? He’ll have less time for her that’s for sure. Movie dates won’t be happening then. Maybe it’s good she’s getting used to this now before she grows too close to him and breaks her own heart in the process of mending his.
She hates herself a little for those thoughts. Bucky deserves to be happy and if that means their friendship will be put on the backburner, then she should be okay with that, right? That’s what friends do, they want you happy no matter what it means for themself.
The Ronettes’ Be My Baby starts echoing through the room as the lights dim and (Y/N) sinks deeper into her seat, embracing the dark. The screen lights up with a black and white montage of people dancing and a swirly pink font spells out the actors' names. (Y/N) can’t wait to get lost in this picture-perfect version of real-life where things might seem bad but turn out right in the end. They always turn our right for these people. If only real life was this easy.
She’s so ready to just forget about all her troubles for the next 90 minutes.
And then a figure steps in front of the screen, nothing but a silhouette. A black shadow in front of the moving pictures. A shape she immediately recognizes.
“ Come on, dude. What the hell!” some guy in front of her yells out to Bucky, immediately following the words with a fistful of popcorn being thrown his way.
He’s here. He’s here and he’s obviously looking for her. She can’t make out his face but he’s shielding his eyes with his hands and letting his gaze wander over the crowd.
There’s a flutter in her stomach, one she knows oh too well. One she wants to bundle up and stuff to the very back of her being. A flutter that shouldn’t be there. That’s not what this is. Butterflies and goosebumps. This is eating spaghetti on the floor, dancing in the kitchen, and crying tears of laughter in IKEA. That’s what it is and what it should be. Right? But that doesn’t mean they can’t be affectionate. Right? That doesn’t mean they have to be cold and stoic and distant.
Right?
As (Y/N) reaches up her arms and waves, Bucky hurries down the platform and lets himself plop down in the seat next to her.
“ I’m sorry I was — “
“ It’s okay. You’re here now. “
That’s what matters. Being there. Just being there.
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“ You deserve to have a friend, Bucky.” Sam said “ and she deserves to make her own decisions. If she decides you’re worth it, who are you to question that choice?”
Sam is right. Of course, he is. Despite how much Bucky hates to admit it, Sam is one of the smartest people he knows. Not in the way Tony or Bruce or Shuri are. Smart in a way that lets you know he gets you, he understands the chaos inside you, empathizes with it. He’s got this sense of incredible emotional awareness and a calm that exudes from him. Bucky will obviously never let him know this but talking to Sam feels more soothing and helpful than talking to his therapist.
He still doesn’t feel like he deserves her friendship, her affection, and her care. But really it would be foolish to think it’s his right to dictate who she can and can't care about.
Sitting beside her now, in the dark, with a movie playing on the big screen, makes things a bit easier. His thoughts aren’t so loud anymore and his heart, though still heavy, feels a little bit lighter. It’s easy to get lost in a story that’s not his and forget about the rest.
He almost forgets about his emotional turmoil by the time the two main characters dance around on a log, when he feels something against his left hand. First, it’s but a whisper of a touch, then more deliberate and then he feels the glove being slid off of his fingers. He doesn’t dare look over at her, eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t pull away though. There’s never been a touch quite so gentle against the cold vibranium metal. He doesn’t pull away, instead, he locks his fingers with hers and softly closes his fist.
If there’s moments worth holding onto, this is surely one of them.
“ I’m glad you came.” (Y/N) murmurs as she places her head against his shoulder. The one made of vibranium. The one that’s a part of him like his smile and his eyes and — his grumpy personality.
“ Yeah, me too.”
As Johnny and Baby give their all during the end of the season dance, Bucky can’t help but let himself relish in this moment.
There are two things on his mind.
One is the idea that maybe this is what friendship can be. Showing affection through soft touches and loving words. Maybe he doesn’t have to assign any deeper meaning to it. No matter how much it makes his heart beat faster or how the flutters in his stomach won't seem to settle down.
The other thing is the fact that this song is so damn catchy and while he hates himself a little for it, his feet tap along to the rhythm and he catches himself mouthing along to the lyrics.
And damn if it ain’t fitting because he has never felt this way before either.
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Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:
@zaynyierulez / @je-like-you / @dracoxxyoflam / @jackiehollanderr / @majo240820 / @kay-gilles / @booksb4looksstuff / @jckie94 / @charmed-asylum / @shawnie--jo / @yllwtaxi / @tailsoflightning / @giuliarogers / @mangoogirl / @gerim-1995 / @elen-alambil / @threeminutesoflife / @writeroutoftime / @buckybarn3s /
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fandomficsnstuff · 4 years ago
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Little Dragon - Part 13
Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.
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(Warnings: talks of former slavery, time skips and it’s a bit fast forwarded, Jorah’s death, lots of angst I think, let me know if I missed anything, stay safe out there ya’ll!)
High Valyrian is in cursive
And Dothraki in bold
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You kept your head down as you rode on your horse, a fairly new experience for you, but it was similar to riding Rhaegal, just smaller, less scaly and less windy, you had reigns to hold onto, and a saddle to sit in. You were broken out of your train of thought as you heard your name called, turning your head to see none other than Jon Snow, giving you a nervous glance “hello” he said awkwardly, making you look ahead, spotting Daenerys talking with Missandei, before turning back to him “Lord Snow, can I help you with something?” he grimaced a bit, but still gave you a smile “if it’s alright, I would prefer if you didn’t call me Lord” you nodded “forgive me, I don’t know what to call you then. All these… customs are new to me, I have only lived with them for a few years now” Jon frowned at your words “how long then?” you shrugged as you looked ahead again “around five, I was ten when our Queen Daenerys found me” you smiled at the memory, glancing at Jon who only gave you a look that silently asked you to explain further.
“You see, I was a slave, in Mereen,” Jon immediately frowned “but you were a child?” he sounded disturbed, and it brought a tiny sense of envy, envy that he didn’t grow up with such horrible things “yes, though that didn’t concern my former master. I remember the day that Daenerys liberated Mereen, I remember seeing her silver hair in the street as she walked with the freed children, but I was still a slave. My master had let his other slaves go but not me, he kept me locked up in his small pyramid… Daenerys saw me watching her in the window, so she waved at me. I remember being so scared of my master that I looked over my shoulder before I waved back, I was so scared of how many beatings I would get if he caught me, but he didn’t, anyway, I must have leaned over the edge of the window, because she saw my collar. I remember how angry she looked as she walked into the house, she immediately had my master thrown in the cells, and then she saw me, on the steps, watching her again” you smiled warmly at the fond memory, a few tears building up in your eyes, but as you looked back at Jon, he seemed horrified and confused, looking away from you as he thought over your words, as if he didn’t know what to say “it’s alright, Jon Snow, I wouldn’t want your sympathy” he looked at you with confusion, something that made you smile ever so slightly, he didn’t know why you didn’t want sympathy.
“I don’t want sympathy because that is not why Daenerys took me in as her own, at least I’d like to believe it wasn’t. Yes, she felt bad for me, but I remember seeing those purple eyes of hers… I remember how safe I felt. It was only later that I learnt of Rhaego. Perhaps she saw in me what she had lost, or maybe it really was just sympathy, whatever it was, I no longer wear a collar, my body no longer bears bruises except for those I earned in training. Daenerys may not have carried me, but she is my mother. That is why I do not want sympathy, Jon Snow, because I no longer need it, I am no longer in a position where it keeps me alive” you finished, speeding up your horse to join Daenerys and Missandei, leaving behind a sympathetic, but understanding Jon Snow.
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Your lips slightly parted in awe as you neared Winterfell, you felt as though the only grounding force that told you it wasn’t a dream was Rhaegal and Drogon above you, their roars and the sound of their wings let you know you were wide awake, and you finally turned to Ezzo, smiling amazed at him before looking back to Winterfell. You had read about it in Mereen, and you remembered how out of all of the cities, you wanted to see Winterfell the most, and here you were, approaching it slowly as people of the north watched you ride by. You felt Ezzo’s hand gently nudge your knee, making you look at him as he gave you a smile “what?” you asked as he just looked at you, he shrugged and just kept smiling “just wanted to look at you” you blushed at his words, the colour of you (Y/S/C) cheeks flushing red, and you looked away, much to Ezzo’s dismay, he thought it looked beautiful with your (Y/E/C) eyes. You shook your head, almost as if you tried to shake off the blush on your cheeks, but you couldn’t shake off the smile that graced your lips “I’ve read a lot about Winterfell, it was built so long ago, it’s said to be built over there natural hot springs, so even though it’s snowing, the castle is much warmer than it looks” you looked back to Ezzo, only to find him already looking at you, and you refrained from saying anything, just enjoying the soft look he gave you as you looked back to Winterfell.
You marvelled at how big it actually was, and Daenerys, upon seeing your face, couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way to her lips.
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You sat tense by Daenerys’ side, something she had noticed long ago. You were cold, colder than before. When you read about the hot springs under Winterfell, you had hoped it would have given more of an impact, but here you were, willing yourself to stop shaking, while your mother sat quite comfortably, since she was a Targaryen. Your eyes scanned the crowd as a way to distract yourself, and you noticed how everyone seemed to love Jon, everyone knew him, adored him, admired him, and you could see, out the corner of your eyes, Daenerys’ smile wavering, she noticed as well. Daenerys was so used to being loved back in Essos, in Essos she was the Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, she brought wonder and awe to people’s lives as she entered them, but here, here she was the foreign queen who their king had knelt to, the daughter of a madman, leader of an army of savages, and you imagined how much it must hurt her, so turning to her you gently nudged her, giving you her attention, and you knew the smile she put on her lips were fake, it was forced and stretched, like a piece of leather being forced over shapes it wasn’t meant to embrace.
You got up, pulled your new arakh out from behind your back and sat back down, your whole body facing her as you showed it to her “Ezzo gave it to me” you let her hold it and study it, watching her smile fade as realization struck her “your name day…” your own smile fell, you hadn’t meant to force it upon her, she was busy, it was a time of war, you understood how she could forget it, so you quickly shook your head “Mhysa I-... I didn’t mean it like that I just… wanted to show you… he carved the handle himself and-”
“I’m so sorry, Little Dragon” she looked heartbroken and you quickly shook your head again, reaching out for her hands “no, no Mhysa, please don’t be, we’re at war, I nearly forgot it myself, as have Missandei, please don’t feel bad. We’re all busy, you most of all, and after Viserion-” you stopped yourself there, knowing you’d get nowhere with her, and mentioning Viserion would only bring the both of you pain, you could already feel the tears building up in your eyes “I will do my best to correct this, I swear, (Y/N)” you sighed, taking back you anakh, putting it on the table, leaning over and hugging her “you don’t have to, just be happy” you whispered the last bit, feeling her arms finally wrap around you to embrace you as well. Once you parted you saw how sad she still was, which made you feel a guilty, you hadn’t meant to force it upon her, you heard her give a short sigh, turning back to look at the different people, studying them and how they loved Jon Snow, you followed her gaze, and you couldn’t help moving your hand down to gently grasp hers, she was so warm compared to you, her Targaryen blood had fire running through her veins “you are so cold, are you freezing?” you turned to look at her concerned expression, making you smile slightly “no, no I’m just cold. Mhysa, you’re a Targaryen, you have fire in your veins” you giggled slightly, and she joined you, briefly, before looking back over the the northerners “they’ll love you, you know, they’re just scared, perhaps even a bit betrayed, they trusted their king to never kneel again and then he did it, they’re just angry, but I don't blame them, who wouldn’t be in this cold?” you whispered the last bit to her, making her grin and do her best to hold in a laugh that you knew wanted to tear it’s way out of her and make itself known to everyone in the room, a thought that kept you warmer than the fires your brother’s breathed.
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You frowned as you stared at her in disbelief, taking in her words, each time you tried to decipher it a new frown appeared on your forehead “but-...” you leaned back in your chair, your gaze off to the side, not looking at anything in particular. You finally looked back at Daenerys, seeing her being torn between worlds as well. You leaned forward, gently grasping her hand in yours “who knows, Mhysa?” she swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking up “his brother, Bran, Samwell Tarly, and he’s going to tell his sisters” you frowned at her last statement “but I thought he loved you?” at yours words Daenerys finally let a tear roll down her cheek, all her life she had believed she was the true heir to Westeros, and now, now all of the sudden she wasn’t, the goal she had worked her way towards her whole life was gone, snuffed out, like a candle in a storm. You sighed heavily and got up “and he says he doesn’t want the throne?” you looked out a window before back to Daenerys, seeing her nod briefly and weakly, making you sigh again “then that’s that, Mhysa, he doesn’t want it, you are the heir to the Seven Kingdoms, you are the Queen of Westeros, there is nothing else to it” you kneeled down in front of her, you knew how much this meant to her.
She gently shook her head “it doesn’t matter what he wants… he’s the rightful heir and the people-”
“No! Mhysa… you’ve worked towards this your entire life! He doesn’t want the throne, they can’t force him upon it, can they? I-... I know you love him… I know you haven’t said so but, the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you, he loves you as well, I’m not-... experienced in love but, you have to at least trust that, right?” Daenerys sighed and looked at you, raising a hand to gently hold your cheek, you leaned into her touch and she smiled at the gesture “my sweet little dragon” she whispered, leaning over and placing a kiss on your forehead, her eyes closed as yet another tear fell from them.
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You glared at your mother as she looked at you with a pleading look “I am not going into the crypt, I want to fight!” Daenerys sighed, you two had been at it for almost an hour now “(Y/N) there is nothing to discuss, please, my little dragon, do as I say. You have a responsibility, you’re the heir to the throne, my ONLY heir, please, I can’t let anything happen to you” you sighed as she used your nickname in Valyrian, mulling over her words before finally giving a weak nod, making Daenerys close her eyes in pure relief. You sighed heavily as you walked down the steps, mumbling annoyed, making Sansa frown as she studied you, looking down at Tyrion, who sighed “she wants to fight, a Dothraki has been teaching her for months now. I think she’s scared,” he whispered the last part, making Sansa lean in as he continued “I think she’s scared of losing yet another brother, or perhaps even her mother, she thinks that somehow if she fights with her, she could prevent it” Sansa frowned even more “but the dragons are not her brothers” Tyrion shrugged “she has grown up around them for the last five years, whenever she was sad and Missandei or Daenerys wasn’t around, the dragons comforted her, I’ve heard stories of how they flew up on her balcony and came close to her, let her lay up against them and cry. When they were locked in the pyramid, she visited them every day, Rhaegal was her dragon, and now Jon Snow is riding him, she may not be a Targaryen, but she understands those dragons, almost as well as their mother, so try to tell her, once a little girl, lost and afraid of the world, protected and cared for by these dragons and their mother, that they are not her family. She already lost one brother, forgive me, Lady Stark, but I do believe you can understand how she feels” Tyrion ended, looking back at you as Missandei sat down next to you, talking with you quietly.
Sansa watched you with sympathy now, she understood what it was like to lose family, and while she couldn’t see how you saw dragons as family, she could understand the bond and the grief you must have felt when Viserion died, especially now that it was known that he had joined the Night King as an undead dragon, no longer the brother you knew.
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You stared at the piles upon piles of dead bodies, blood covering your face, your akanh in your hand, a cut on your hand and leg, still bleeding, your eyes widening as you saw a white figure in the distance leaning over someone, crying. It was nearly dawn, the Night King was dead and so was his army. Your feet took off before you even knew it, you barely felt the wound on your leg as you ran across the body littered field, you fell to your knees, you arakh long forgotten as you stared at the body in Daenerys’ arms. You breathed heavily as you just stared at his pale skin, the blood splattered across his face and armor, and the small drops of tears from your mother’s eyes. You gently shook your head as you held your breath, at any moment he would wake up, right? He would wake up, let you know that he was alright, he was okay, he was wounded but alive, right? You let out a whimper as none of that happened, he stayed still and pale, and you leaned over his breastplate, resting your head on it, not caring about the blood smearing onto your forehead. You let a sob escape your lips, only one, you told yourself, but it was followed by another, and another, and another, and before you knew it you were sobbing against the cold, hard metal covering his chest.
You looked up at Daenerys to see her crying as well, holding Joarh close and you couldn’t help but lean down and hug his stiff form, your arms around his neck as you sobbed against his throat, silently begging him to wake up, and when that didn’t work you tried verbally “wake up, please Ser Jorah, please, please wake up, please no, no, no, no! Wake up!” you hadn’t even noticed how you had begun to speak Valyrian, it was your native tongue after all, even though Jorah never understood it. You shook him as hard as you could, tears streaming down your face as you shook your head once more, you could barely breathe, Jorah had been the one to cut off your collar, he had been the one you had talked the most with, even though none of you understood each other back then. You leaned against Daenerys’ shoulder as you both cried, tears streaming down your faces as you continued to hold the old knight.
You don’t know how long you stayed like that, clinging to his corpse and Daenerys’ side as you cried over his body, praying that somehow he would wake up, somehow his eyes would open, or he would cough, say something, anything. But nothing happened, and nothing ever would, he was dead, cold and stiff, buried in metal as he laid in the cold snow, blood surrounding him, some of it his own, some of it not, that thought chilled you to the bone more than any wind ever could, he was bathed in blood, some not his own, it made you sick, and you felt the urge to throw up, leaning away quickly and throwing up over the side, making sure none of it touched Jorah or your mother. Afterwards you groaned, tears still streaming down your face as you glanced at Ser Jorah, another sob forcing it’s way through your body and out your mouth as you yet again fell to Daenerys’ side, holding Jorah. You felt Daenerys’ hand slowly place itself on your back as you sobbed, her own cries still spilling from her lips as you both just held him, not caring who watched or who was nearby.
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jimlingss · 4 years ago
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Moirai [1]
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2
➜ Words: 5.8k
➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU
➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.
➜ Notes: Isekai is a popular manga and light novel genre in which characters from Earth are transported into a new world.
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This is the end.   “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”   The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains — the one she had always tried to shatter. All she desired was something other than courtesy. If not affection then frustration or misery. But she supposes that anger suffices.   Anger. The first time he’s ever looked at her with an ounce of any true feeling.   His shadow looms over her, his status powerful as the countless eyes are narrowed in around her — he is as powerful as the people who stand behind him. Every word he speaks booms through the ballroom, a grand timbre that has long replaced the mellifluous violins.    The Prince is as noble as he is righteous. He is the hero of this story.   “You choose to answer your crimes with silence?!”   The corner of her lips curl and cackles rasp from her throat. The noise is discordant and shrill, a mocking irony when it causes him to pull the woman in his arms closer. Even when she’s in this position, downcast head, knees burnt on the carpet, all she does is drive them closer together.   “The only sins I have ever committed was loving you until my last breath.”   “Guards!”   Murmurs spark across the room and the knights armour clank as they approach in heavy steps. She knows these are the last moments. “The only crime I have is looking out for the empire! But you chose her.” She looks upon the girl he holds, the one who has the same contempt on her visage. And as the knights rip her away from her place, she spits venom-laced words, “A lowly baron’s adopted daughter to make your wife. I am the duke’s daughter. I am educated. I am your fiancée—”   “No longer.” He condemns, “You have committed treason. Conspiracy against the crown. Attempted murder. Forgery. Harassment. Using your status to oppress the vulnerable—”   “Let go of me!” she shrieks as the guards drag her down the room. It’s undignified. Degrading.   “—Daring to entangle yourself with the dark arts. And you will answer to these crimes whether you choose to confess or not.”    “Let go of me!” she struggles, yet no one chooses to hear.    Their eyes have pierced into her, those who aren’t scandalized are snickering behind their feathered fans. But in the last seconds, status has no place. She looks to the person who matters most, the one she had spent her childhood idolizing. Her beliefs hold true. He will make a great ruler.   But she will never be the one to stand beside him. She knows now.   That position has long been stolen away from her.   “Everything I did,” she cries, “I did for yo—”   The grand doors slam shut with her pitched screams resounding.    Moments later, the lively music continues, violins and trumpets crescendoing to life once more. As if her life had just not been taken away from her. As if the denunciation was merely an intermission of tonight’s festivities.   Her heinous exterior is shattered by tears that no one would have sympathy for. She is limp when she is thrown into the stone jail cell within the depths of the castle. The knights twist on their heel and she is surrounded in pitch darkness with the sound of a scurrying rat echoing beside her.   The only time there is light is by the dim flame of the torch, a guard accompanying a frightened servant who carries a bowl of spoiled oats. It’s not enough to satisfy the grumble of her stomach, but enough to keep her alive for the execution day. Without a silver fork or spoon in hand, a handkerchief placed in her lap, seated by a candlelit table, she resorts to using her fingers to scoop the food into her mouth.   Sometimes, she thinks they forget about her.   Or perhaps time is simply drawn in darkness. A second made into a minute. A minute is an hour. She is merely left leaning against the molded stone, wasted away and drunk on memories of better places.   Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her.   Everything she did, it drove him away.   Every act of love placed distance between them.   Everything.   Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?”   “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.”   The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away.    And a smile still graces her features when she is dragged out and jostled by the knights, taken up to where the sun blinds her vision.   “On the eve of the Solar Festival, we rid our empire of yet another villain and free it from treachery!”   There are cacophonous cheers in the crowd. Her eyes are hurt by the sunlight and she shuts them tight. Her legs are kicked and she’s knocked onto her knees, head being shoved against wood. She wishes she didn’t have to face the sun rays. There’s no decency to give her shade.   But the discomfort is over by the blade slicing through the air. She lives and both dies as the villainess — an inevitable legacy.            ❇ End of Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇
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Headbeams.   Fuck.   You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — the third Batman film, Grey’s Anatomy, the Simpsons, hell even Attack on Titan. But nope. They’re right. Time really does slow and your life really does flash by your eyes when you’re in the moment of your death.    But instead of feeling grief for yourself, all you can think about is what an absolute idiot you are.   You really shouldn’t have jaywalked at night. That cheesecake in the fridge was supposed to be yours! And holy shit, your parents are going to be really fucking mad that you died at only twenty—   The truck slams into you before you can finish your thought.   …………... ……….. ……. ….. ... .. .   Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. Maybe because it happened so fast. Maybe the initial impact was already enough to end your life. But you’re left feeling an empty void inside of yourself. An overwhelming agony that this is the end. That you never got the chance to fulfill your dreams, enjoy the fruits of your labour, that you never got to reach the happiness you wanted.   You have regrets.   Not for the things that you did. But for the things that you didn’t do.   But well….you suppose there’s no use in lingering in it.   Death is the end.   This is the end.   ……. ….. ... .. .   “—ook...t ...er...!”   “..hush!”   What?   Why are you hearing noises? Why does your face feel warm?   Are you in...heaven? Some sort of afterlife?! Oh man, you knew you deserved this! Fuck yes! You might have kicked that kid’s shin in the fourth grade and totally lied to your manager that one time that you cleaned the ice-cream machine when you didn’t, but your wrongdoings aren’t that bad.   You open your eyes.   Unusually, your vision is blurred. All you can make out is a fuzzy figure looming over you.   Your mouth opens—   “Waah!”   What the fuck. You can’t speak. Each time your lips part, drool dripples onto your chin.   In a panic, you try to move your body, but quickly find yourself heavy and practically stuck. You cry out and swing your arm, and that’s when your hand flashes before your eyes.   Your pupils focus and you realize that your hand is tiny. That you can barely curl and uncurl your fingers together. Holy shit. Holy fuck—   You’re a baby.   Wailing sobs burst out of your tiny lungs.    You don’t know where you are or how this happened. Your last memory is being hit by a truck!   The figure looming above you comes closer. “What is wrong with her?!”   The woman sounds annoyed, but it’s not like it's your fault. This is just a lot to take in.   Your mouth is blocked by a pacifier being shoved in. Immediately, you spit it out and the woman sighs. “Why is she being so fussy?”   That’s not the issue, lady! Christ, you wish you could communicate with her.   You feel yourself being picked up and she angrily mutters, “If the Devereux household wasn’t paying me so much, I would’ve just thrown you out the window.”   Wait. Say what now? Devereux?    Why does that sound so familiar?   You hear another woman’s voice, one that’s higher pitched and softer. “What’s wrong with little Anastasia?”   “Have you finished hanging the laundry yet?”   “Yes, I have.” You’re being passed on and your sobs subside in favour of a frown. Anastasia?   Anastasia Devereux.   You remember cursing that name out loud before, but where was—   Oh my god. Oh my god! It’s impossible, but the truth is right in front of your eyes. You’re living through it right now. This isn’t a dream. No. It’s your game, Royal Romances.    You’ve been reincarnated into the fictional country of Ashea. And of all people, you’ve been reborn as the villainess, Anastasia Devereux.   You burst out crying again.   //   A man in a coat and frilly shirt enters the room. Your head adjusts to see through the wooden bars of your bassinet, vision becoming clearer by the day. You know who he is without an announcement.   Your father. At least he’s supposed to be.   “How is the child?” he asks the maid.   “She is healthy, your grace. She may be a bit fussy at times, but she sleeps and eats well.”   He hums and leaves shortly after, never once coming to personally see or even hug you.    What an asshole. This entire world is fucked. You’re fucked.   Royal Romances is a love story game between a heroine and several potential matches depending on the route you take. Yet in every route, the main protagonist's rival, the Marquess and the Crown Prince’s fiancée, ends up co-conspiring with the villain and dies because of his crimes. Or exiled. Two options.   And you’ve taken her place.   But now that you think about it, that’s so unfair! You didn’t care much about Anastasia while playing, other than wanting her to get the fuck out of the picture for your OTP ship to sail. But why should the villainess shoulder the villain’s crimes?! If anything, it was him who coerced her! All Anastasia wanted was to be with the Crown Prince! He was the only person who ever showed her an ounce of kindness!   Oh god.   All you know now is that you don’t want to die.   You died too early in your past life.   “Anastasia.” You’re shaken awake from your thick slumber by soft cooing. A quiet woman’s voice calls and when you open your eyes, you’re able to focus on a woman you’ve never seen before but is familiar at the same time. She smiles and picks you up. “Good afternoon.”    Instead of fussing around like you usually would, a triumphant smile spreads into your face.   Fucking finally. It’s the first time you’ve seen your ‘mother’. Maybe she’s just been recovering from the birth these past few months. After all, there’s no way the family would actually just abandon you to a bunch of maids—   “Oh my goodness, Elanor!” A shrill voice has your senses tingling. There’s another woman sitting at the rounded table fanning herself with an orange, feathered fan. “What a lovely daughter!”   “Yes, she really is. She hardly cries.”   Now that’s a big fat lie.   You’ve probably cried a thousand times since you got here. It’s not your fault the maids don’t know how to put you in anything other than scratchy dresses and forget to change your underwear after you’ve shit yourself.   Another stranger approaches you and practically digs their nose into your face. Her floral perfume almost has you retching and spewing out an entire bottle of milk in her face. “She is simply too delightful! She has Herrick’s eyes and your nose.”   “Really now? I think she’s growing up to look more and more like the Duke each day.”   “Oh she’ll grow up to be a beauty. You are truly blessed, Elenor.”   Cordial laughter fills the room.   Motherfucker. She’s just using you as a decor! You’re a prop for her to show off at her tea party! She doesn’t care about you whatsoever.    But fine. You can play along with her. It’s not like you have any choice.   You muster an enormous gooey smile, channeling all the cuteness you know you must have and instantly, several of the ladies swoon. It’s an overwhelming victory! But one that requires a lot of energy when you were just awakened from your nap — and squeezing your butt cheeks results in the grumble of your stomach.   Being a few months old, you have poor control of your digestive system. So it’s no surprise that smiling so hard makes you shit your pants.    Oops.   The lump falls into your cloth diaper and instantly, your mother’s brow twitches.   The stench reaches her nose and the nostrils of the lady intruding into your space who immediately draws back in disgust. But what the hell are they expecting?! You’re a baby! All you do is eat, sleep and shit!   “Edith!”    Your mother’s shrill cry has the maid coming into the room. “Yes, your grace?”   “Take Anastasia.”   She passes you off without even looking and you’re swiftly taken away from the room, hearing the laughter and conversations resume the moment the doors close. So cruel!    “Ugh. I’ve never seen a baby who cries so much,” Edith complains and plops you into the bassinet instead of comforting you. If you had limb strength and mobility, you’d slap her for being so rude.   The younger maid with the higher-pitched voice looms over you. “Maybe it’s because she knows the Duke and Duchess never come to visit. She’s missing the comfort of a mother and father.”   Thank god someone can sympathize with you! As incompetent as Joan is — to the point where she’s checking your pants for the tenth time when you’re really just crying because you’re starving — at least she’s not a Karen.   Clearly, the bar is quite low.   “Well, it’s expected.” Edith steps away to fold the basket of your dresses. “The Duke and Duchess tried having children for years and the only child they have is a daughter who can’t even carry the family name. If it was a son, it would be different.”   “I don’t understand.” Joan rushes to the head maid’s side. “Usually daughters are treasured in noble families.”   Edith looks around and lowers her volume. “Don’t you know?”   “Know what?”   “Keep your voice down! If you say this outside, even I won’t be able to help you.” There’s a pause. “The Duke and Duchess aren’t real nobles, they don’t have any noble blood. The Duke’s late father, Arnold, fought heroically in the war and that’s why the King granted his family the title.”   “Oh…but...what does that have to do with anything?”   “Noble society is different from how we know it, you naive girl. No matter what you do, hundreds of eyes are constantly on you. It’s full of scrutiny and someone in power today might be exiled tomorrow. Having a son would’ve made it easier for the Devereux household to maintain their title and prestige.”   Joan sighs, finally realizing why things are the way they are. She comes to you and leans over the bassinet. “Poor thing. It’s not even her fault.”   She gives you her finger and you happily wrap your entire hand around it. Hell yeah! Finally someone’s feeling bad for your shitty situation.   But the older woman with wrinkles around her eyes scoffs. “There’s no use worrying about her. You should be more worried about yourself. If the House of Devereux fails to keep their power and wealth, we’ll be out of a job.”   Joan hums and pries her finger away from your grasps.   You frown and the next time the head maid feeds you, you puke all over her.    But you know what she said is true. It’s the reason why the real Anastasia felt like she needed to become the crown princess, why she tried so hard to make everyone around her approve of her. Aside from loving the Prince, she was desperate for recognition, desperate to fulfill her family’s wishes, and to maintain her family’s lineage without slipping from the status quo.   But you’re different.   You don’t care about those things. You’ll prove yourself on your own and do whatever it takes to survive.   Quickly. Quickly! You want to grow up and walk on your own two feet so you can protect yourself.   After all, no one else in this house will.   You stretch your arm in the air, curling your fingers together, staring up at the starry mobile.    But it’s hard in the body of a mere infant and you fall asleep in the midst of your exercise session, succumbing to the temptation of slumber with heavy lids.
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Four years later.   “Are you colouring, my lady?”   “Nooo.”   You’re writing. And it’s not just anything — it’s battle plans.    To anyone, it’s merely incoherent scribbles, a result of poor motor skills you have yet to refine. But it’s actually your life or death.   You don’t need status or power. Living in the countryside and living fruitfully is good enough. All you want is to live a long, peaceful life.   In the original story, after Anastasia’s eighteenth birthday, she was condemned for countless crimes, thrown in prison and then executed within the matter of weeks. All because of three people: the heroine, the Crown Prince, and the villain.   To avoid the effect, you should avoid the cause. Therefore, you need to do whatever you can to avoid these three!   It’s genius! Truly, if anyone knew how your four year old brain operated, you would be hailed as the next prophe—   “Get ready.” Edith interrupts your train of thought, coming into the room and swiftly shutting the door behind her.   “Why?”   “You’re having lunch with the Duke and Duchess.”   “But I don’t wanna,” you whine, especially when Joan starts collecting the crayons. You stand up before Edith can drag you and you stomp your feet. Why would you want to go have lunch with them when the amount of times you’ve seen them in four years can be counted on both hands.   “Don’t be spoiled. Come here.”   You stick out your tongue instead and the moment Edith’s fingers come to snag you, you swiftly dart and run as giggles squeak out of your body.   “My lady,” Joan sighs, at a loss as well.    The two of them try to corner you, but you dive to the left when there’s a chance.   The original villainess was always quite upright and strict, especially with herself. It’s reasonable considering the way she was raised and the massive burden placed upon her. But kids can get away with a lot more than adults and you’d prefer to take advantage of that while you still can.   “Stop playing around!” Edith finally snags the back of your nightgown and you laugh, still thrashing against her hold until she plops you down on the vanity chair. “You’re such an unruly troublemaker,” she mutters as she grabs the frilly dress you’re about to be changed into.   And just for that comment, you undo the pins she puts into your hair when she’s not looking.   It drives her crazy.   But your little antics are stopped the moment you’re sitting at the dinner table. The height of said table reaches your collarbone and the chair you’re sitting in overwhelms your form. The atmosphere is stiff and tense, your father sitting at the head of the table and slicing into his meat while your mom’s posture is upright and she chews gingerly.    Unlike the maids, you won’t test your luck with the Duke and Duchess. God knows they might send you to some kid ranch for the next ten years to reform yourself.    But you also know you can’t get any cuter than this.   You’ve seen yourself in the mirror — soft skin, big eyes, a button nose and chubby cheeks.   Who knows what puberty might do to you someday, but for now, you’re as cute as a four year old can get. And why not use that as a weapon in your arsenal?   “Momma.” You interrupt the silence and your mother across from you looks up. You give a full smile with teeth, quirking your head to your shoulder and open your arms as wide as they can go. “I like you this much!”   Oh. Hell. Yeah!   You can feel it. You’re totally gonna win them over—   Her head swivels over to the Duke. “Don’t you think it’s time to teach her manners?”   Wow. That’s cold.    Stone cold.   “Edith.” Your father glances over his shoulder and the head maid steps forward. “How’s Anastasia’s development?”   The older woman clears her throat. “She’s a bit wild, your grace.” You glare at her for exposing you like this. “However, she can write the alphabet and read through storybooks on her own. She seems to be a bright child.”   Damn straight. Of course, you’d be able to pick up the language of Ashea quickly. You still have the memories of your past life.   The Duke hums. “Then she can start training to be the crown princess.”   You nearly choke on your broccoli.    But you hastily compose yourself and look up at your father. “What’s that?”   “Don’t ask questions,” your mother quips and the room simmers down to the uncomfortable silence again.   It’s so ridiculous — the very definition of jumping the gun. You aren’t the Crown Prince’s fiancée, but they’re already considering you a candidate before you’ve even lost your baby teeth.   Not to mention, it’s all useless anyway. The original Anastasia never became the princess and you have no plans of even meeting the Prince.    “Do you know what happened in the year 921, my lady?” the tutor asks later on, pushing up his rounded spectacles up the slope of his nose.   You’re slumped over the table, one arm rested with your cheek squished in your hand, focused on twirling the quill with two fingers. God forbid Edith or your mother witnesses your awful posture, but no one’s ever interested enough to sit in on these dumb tutor sessions. They’d fall asleep instantly.   “The war of Winter,” you mumble and the tutor’s eyes light up and he enthusiastically nods.   “Yes! The most momentous moment in the history of Ashea. A great dragon rose from the mountains and in the war of Winter, great King Baek, the light priestess and fierce knights of the royal palace came down the lazy brook from Stoughsby Peaks next to the then Canary district which sold fabrics and spices up until the year 914 when the famine of 914 came—”   The tutor drones on and on.   But one thing grabs your attention. You forgot there was magic in this world.   “Ummm,” you interrupt him in the middle of his tangent. “Did King Baek kill the dragon by magic?”   “Great question. King Baek in the summer of 896, seven years after he was born, started to learn the art of swordsmanship through rigorous training with the fierce knights of the royal place who was then under the rule of King Ennik—”   You don’t know why you asked.   “How do you start doing magic?” you interject again.   “Well, magic is part of everyone and it’s everywhere. But some are more attuned to it than others. It requires vigorous training, the most talented magician was Ruffus Dolores who dedicated his life living in the Magician’s Tower and wrote most of the magical texts we have today.”   You look at him, curiosity finally alight in your eyes. “Can I do magic?”   There was never magic on Earth in the twenty-first century aside from Harry Potter or Twilight, if Edward’s sparkling constitutes as magic. But if it’s anything like those movies, then you’re psyched! You can wingardium leviosa yourself and yeet out of here.   Unfortunately, your excitement is short lived.   “The House of Devereux isn’t very magically inclined,” the tutor says and your eyes dim again. You’re not completely surprised considering Anastasia was never much of a fighter in the game. She just splashed water on the main character’s face a lot and made players like you curse her out. “However, while magic is an inborn talent and comes naturally, skills always have to be honed. There’s still a chance you may have magical abilities. We’ll just have to see as you get older.”   You hum to yourself.   //   Edith pulls the curtains together haphazardly, the moonlight crisp where the gap is and sheds a silver sliver onto the carpet. Joan takes the tray with your finished glass of milk, nearly toppling it over and shattering the glass, but finding balance in the nick of time.   “Goodnight, my lady.”   “Night night.” Your hand peeks out from the covers and you wave.   “Don’t get out of bed or else,” Edith warns in a low tone. “The Duke won’t be happy to hear if you’re found wandering in the halls or sneaking into the kitchen again.”   You giggle. “Bye bye.”   The door shuts, darkness engulfs your bedroom and you count to ten within your head. The moment the seconds are up, you throw the covers off of you and slide off the high mattress.   You come to your desk, grasp the heavy duty textbook off of it and lug it over to the windows.    The enormous book sits on your lap as you lean against your bedpost. The moonlight illuminates the cover and you flip to the magic section at the back, the noise of the pages soothing in the quiet space. Magic — not only is it interesting to you but it could be a great defense mechanism if worse comes to worse. Who knows. It might just add to your battle plans and help you survive.   Your pointer finger underlines the sentences and traces the words as you read the introduction slowly.   After reading, you learn that magic is more intuitive, rather than a particular procedure.    You push the textbook aside and hold your hands out. Shutting your eyes, you try your best to envision light. You try to imagine light engulfing your figure and form, causing your skin to glow.   Peeking with one eye open, there’s—   Absolutely nothing.   Well shit. Maybe the tutor was right. Maybe there is no real magical talent in your bloodline. But there’s no harm in trying to dabble in it a little more.   You conceptualize fire in your brain. And when you look in your hand, you’re ecstatic to see a tiny flame actually flickering in mid-air. Oh shit! It worked!   But it smothers out a blink later.   You try to visualize water next to see if your magical expertise lays within the element. When you open your eyes, your breath hitches at the water droplets floating in your palm. And for once, it doesn’t completely vanish within a second. A grin spreads into your face. But as if Lady Luck wants to slap you, the moment you get hyped, the water splashes into your lap.   It looks like you peed yourself.   “Really?!”   You sigh, ready to give up.   Maybe you don’t have a knack for magic after all.    You turn to grab the textbook, but the heftiness is awkward in your grasps and your thumb slips, accidentally flipping over the next page. The page’s heading makes you stop.    Oh yeah. Dark magic exists.   Might as well give it a shot while you’re at it.   Like all the times before, you shut your eyes and hold your hands upwards. You try to imagine darkness — the similar kind that’s already filled your bedroom, or like the empty void that you were plunged in after being hit by that truck. That abyss of nothing, of pitch black.   Suddenly, you feel a pressure on your shoulders. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Your lashes flutter open and your breath is plugged in your nose. Darkness has overwhelmed the room. It bleeds out of you, consuming your form like smoke, the hue of ink spilt on oil. It covers the silver moonlight, erasing the sliver casted on your carpet and what was translucent through the curtains. Exactly like the empty void, the abyss of nothing.    It’s trying to consume you.   There’s a shriek from outside your room. “All the candles just blew out!”   Panic drains blood from your face and you drop your hands, flailing your arms as if you can dispel the black before it wraps its hands around your throat and submerges you completely.   It fades, the moonlight traveling back onto you again and you shove the book underneath your bed.   You’re still shaking as you climb back into bed.   God knows you’re never going to try that again.   //   So you might not have an aptitude for magic after all. But the grief is short-lived after the realization that it’s not a toy or something that comes out of a magical wand for you to fight Dementors with. But there’s still a lot of ways you can protect yourself. You just have to get creative.   “I wanna do that!”    Your nose, forehead and palms are pushed against the glass window as you peer outside.   Joan frowns and peeks out. “You want to go flower picking, my lady?”   “No!”   The useless maid finally looks to the two guards sparring with one another out by the field. “You want to sword fight?”   “Uh-huh.”   She bursts out laughing and you whirl around in irritation.    “I wanna! Pretty please?” How else are you going to protect yourself? If you can’t use magic, then you need to go the melee route and pick up a sword or at least a bow and arrow.   “You would have to ask permission from the Duke himself, my lady.” Joan turns away to make your bed, expecting you to give up. When it comes to asking your parents, it’s too much of a hassle to get involved with them. But this time, you don’t concede.   She’s surprised when you tug on her dress. “Okay.”   The Duke’s study doors are imposing on their own. Without needing to open them, the twisting ornate patterns on the wooden surface are enough to eerily remind you of exposed arteries. It feels like you’re approaching the principal’s office — a nervousness of the impending doom.   You’ve always been careful to steer clear any place your mother or father might be. The study on the third floor, the gardens, their bedroom. And any time you passed, your steps would quiet.   It’s not like you’re scared of them. Frankly, you’re just annoyed at how nit-picky they are.   But you remind yourself you’ve been through worse — you once spent an entire summer in customer service serving food in the twenty first century for god’s sakes!   With that in mind, you throw open the doors.   Joan, behind you, practically flinches.   Your father’s sitting behind his oak desk, quill and parchment in hand, and he looks above his rounded spectacles. You give your most charming smile. “Hi, papa!”   He looks to the older girl and deadpans, “What’s the matter.”   The maid clears her throat, clearly distressed that she’s been dragged into this. “Uh, well, your grace, my lady, uh, she…..well…”   “I wanna do sword!” You tottle towards him and round the desk to come eye to eye with his knees. C’mon, as uncaring as they are, they gotta at least care a little for their daughter, right? You’re too cute to ignore all the time. You flutter your lashes for good measure. “Pretty please?”   The Duke’s brow quirks. “You want to learn swordsmanship?”   You enthusiastically nod. “Uh-huh!”   He stares at you. You stare at him.   The older man sits back in his chair. “It wouldn’t hurt to learn an interesting skill or two. It might make you stand out.” Those two lifelessly said statements alone are enough to make you happy. Even when he resumes his paperwork. “I heard from your tutor that you’re a fast learner.”   You’re surprised the old fart said something good about you, but of course you are! You’re technically twenty four now. Mathematics is truly universal when you can recall the basics and the language is easy to pick up. You’re already dumbing down everything to not make it weird.   “Maybe you’re not so useless after all,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth, no longer sparing you a glance.    You hold back a scoff. Instead, you force a smile and a sweet giggle. “Thank you, papa! I like you too!”   You wonder if this is why Anastasia tried so hard. The only time she gains recognition in her family is when she’s focusing her time and energy into studying and proving her worth. If so, it’s depressing. You wish you had more sympathy for her when you were playing from the heroine’s perspective. But you’re beginning to understand her better and better.    Why she did what she did.   How she became the female villain.   “Fight me!” You point your wooden sword at the knight whose eyes are wide. You bet he didn’t expect to be sparing with a four year old when he was assigned to protect the Devereux house, but this is a matter of life and death for you. “Hurry!”   “Y-Yes, my lady.”   You smile, gripping the handle tighter. He comes up and weakly slashes you and you’re able to root your feet into the ground and keep yourself from stumbling back. He’s obviously not trying very hard, but it’s good enough for now. Slowly but surely, you’re finding a rhythm into things.    In your spare time, you learn the history of Ashea, read books and plan the next steps in your battle plan of avoiding all main characters of the game at all costs. You’ll protect yourself no matter what it takes.   And you’ll survive no matter what happens.
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mnictasbcl · 3 years ago
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Hello! Sorry to hear your day isn't going well, I hope you feel better soon <3
For a fic what about a soft or hurt/comfort RK1K drabble using the prompt "Safe" 🥰
Thank you very much! :) 
This fic was fun to write, thanks for the prompt!
Safe
Word count: 1407
Pairings: Connor/Markus (RK1K)
Rating: General Audiences
Tags: Angst, Emotional hurt/comfort, talk of death, eventual fluff
Summary: The Revolution had succeeded. Everyone had played their part.But after finishing his speech, Markus can't find Connor anywhere. It will be his task to bring the android back home, where he belongs with his people.
Read it on ao3! Or, read it below the cut
Hundreds, thousands of androids saved from the sublevels of the Cyberlife Tower. Markus watched as they were led towards him by none other than Connor. Who had once been the famous ‘deviant hunter’; they’d met in Jericho, gun pointed to his head but he’d gotten through to the other android. You’re one of us.
Distrust had welled in his heart at first—that tended to come with a relationship that begun with a gun pointed at you. Especially as his first deviated words were telling him that they were going to attack Jericho.
But then Connor helped them. After Markus had detonated the explosive in the hold of the great freighter, North had been injured and Connor had helped take out the guards coming after them.
So when they got to the abandoned, dilapidated church, he trusted the android.
Then he thought he’d never see him again. A deviant going back to Cyberlife, trying to liberate their people? It was unheard of. It was a death mission.
Yet he let him go. Connor couldn’t be stopped. He could feel the guilt coming off the other android in waves. This was a way to make amends—but not just to Markus, to the people of Jericho—to all of his people.
 When he came back, an army marching behind him, Markus beamed. Tried to pretend he hadn’t had a lingering worry in the back of his mind ever since the other android had left.
You did it.
 The stage was set. Markus told their people of their freedom, the peaceful battle was won. Afterwards the crowd rose up into cheers, everyone breaking out into joy. It was over.
Well, he knew it wasn’t completely over. This was the first step to androids becoming an equal species in their own right. But it was the most important step. Practicalities and laws hung tentative in the air; but their victory shared none of this doubt.
They were free.
So he turned around to address his crew. North, Simon, Josh.
“We did it.” North smiled.
He held out his arms, and all earlier disputes between them were pushed aside. They hugged in the centre of the stage, the small circle of their union radiating warmth.
But as they pulled apart, Markus noticed someone was missing.
“Where’s Connor? He should be here too.”
Simon pointed into the crowds. “I noticed him slip off the stage after you finished your speech, but then he disappeared into the crowd.”
He frowned. “He should be with his people.”
“Relax, Markus,” Josh patted him on the shoulder, “he’s only just become a deviant. Give him time.”
“I understand what you mean, but…” he frowned, looking out at the space beyond the androids. The cold streets lined with snow, abandoned almost completely of humans.
“It’s not safe out there.” North finished for him. “It’s okay, Markus. We can hold things down here whilst you go and look for him.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’re with you.”
“Now go and look for that dumb android before he gets himself frozen out there.”
 Markus didn’t need to be told twice. As he walked around the crowds, away from the cheering and shouting, he began to wonder why he cared so much. Well, he did care for all of his people—but the worry that had nestled snugly at the back of his mind was now consuming his thoughts. Connor had done great things for them. He shouldn’t feel bad, not right now, he had been a tool of Cyberlife, as they had all been.
He was glad for his coat providing warmth because the winds were bitter, nipping at his skin. They would need to find shelter for the androids soon, he understood their want for freedom but it wouldn’t do for everyone to catch a chill.
He hoped Connor was wearing something just as warming. He’d noticed he’d forgone his beanie and jacket for his old Cyberlife uniform, and it wasn’t as if Cyberlife designed those with comfort and practicality in mind.
His answer was finding the RK800 jacket strewn on the floor, buried under snow. Shaking it off, he shook his head. “You idiot.”
 And said idiot he found a few paces away, hunched in on himself, shivering.
“Connor! What are you doing out here?”
But to his surprise, when Connor heard him, he tried to move away. His actions were stiff, and he instead fell onto his side, rather mechanically like an old computer being pushed over.
From working with deviants, he knew not to immediately rush to comfort. Instead, he crouched down a few paces away from him.
“It’s okay, I’m here now.”
“Go…away.”
Markus furrowed his brows in concern. “You don’t have to be alone, Connor.”
With a monumental effort the android got his bearings and pushed to his feet. Now with his face no longer obscured Markus could see the dampness of wet snow soaked into his clothes, could see the ice forming crystals on his skin.
“Please. Leave.”
“No.”
Connor shook his head. “You have to. It’s not safe.”
Markus looked around him. “What’s not safe is you sitting out here in the cold by yourself, Connor. Come back to Jericho.”
“Jericho is gone, Markus.”
“Maybe the place, but not the people.”
Connor stepped away from him. “You don’t have to make me feel better. I know that I got a lot of people killed. And I almost—” He stopped. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not safe to keep me around. So just go back, okay? They need you more.”
Markus took a step forward in turn. “And they need you too. You saved hundreds, thousands of them. You saved me, you saved North—”
“And I almost got you killed!”
“Which wasn’t your fault. What we did because of our programming isn’t our fault. Would you blame the others, if they did regrettable things before they deviated?”
Connor seemed to deflate at this. Hands relaxing at his sides, moving towards Markus—
Before jumping back again like a wounded animal.
“No. Just leave, Markus, please. Before you get hurt.”
“Is that a threat, Connor?”
“No! No, I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I… can’t stop it…”
“Can’t stop what?”
“Her! She tried to make me kill you.”
Markus held out his hand. “That was before, Connor. You weren’t a deviant.”
“Yes, I was.”
Now it was Markus’ turn to look confused.
“I was a deviant. On the stage, earlier, I almost shot you.” Now he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I was a deviant but they could still make me do my mission. I thought I’d helped, I thought I’d helped the Revolution succeed but then the gun was in my hand, and it was cold, and I couldn’t move and—”
“What exactly happened, Connor? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Amanda.” He grit out the name. “My handler. An… AI, of sorts, in my Mind Palace. She tried to make me shoot you.”
“What?” His level tone wavered. “Connor—an AI in an android, a part of Cyberlife still there after you deviated… that’s not right.”
“I know,” Connor turned away, “I know. I’m dangerous. That’s why you need to go.”
“Well, is she still there?”
A pause.
“…I think she’s gone. I escaped with some sort of emergency exit that Kamski—”
“Then you’re not dangerous. Not to me, not to Jericho—not to you. Cyberlife is gone now, Connor.”
Connor blinked, taking this in. His LED spun from red to yellow.
“But I could have killed you, Markus. The Revolution would have been over. You would have been dead.”
“You didn’t. Because you’re strong, Connor. You were their greatest tool to stop our freedoms but even with that immense level of control over you, you resisted. You resisted so far as to save my life not once, but twice. As well as saving the lives of all of those androids. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
Connor reached out where his hand was waiting and brushed his fingers gently. Without meaning to, both of their skin peeled away at the contact, white chassis peeking through. Some sort of spark between them, blue and bright and beautiful—
And Markus took the opportunity, feeling Connor’s fear and doubt, and smothered it with his security, comfort, warmth.
With slow, fluid movements they moved closer together, brushed fingers becoming held hands, becoming a warm, tight embrace.
“You’re free, Connor. You’re safe.”
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writeforfandoms · 4 years ago
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Merry Go Round of Life 2
Find my masterlist
Part two of the Howl’s Moving Castle AU! There will still be a blend of movie and book in this chapter. Still no Din, but we do meet a couple others! (I’m very curious to see your guesses about the as-of-yet unnamed certain scarecrow.) 
This will eventually be a Din Djarin x f!reader.
Warnings: Nothing much. A little unspecified swearing. 
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Chapter two: In which we meet a fire demon
You stood there for a moment, stunned into silence. What had just happened? Curse? What curse?
Shaking your head, you moved from behind the counter to go lock the door, only you couldn’t seem to walk as quickly. Indeed, you were almost… hobbling? Concerned now, you looked down at yourself. Was the ground closer or was it just you? 
And then you froze at the sight of your hands. Your hands were thick-knuckled, knobbly, wrinkly, with prominent veins. You blinked down at your own skin, confused for a moment, and then you rushed (as well as you could) towards the floor-length mirror you had set up for customers.
A little old lady stood in the mirror, in your blue dress, with white hair. She looked about ninety - a little hunched, knobbly all over, with wrinkles everywhere. You blinked, and the reflection blinked.
“Is that me?” you murmured out loud, and then jolted. Your voice didn’t sound right - a little more scratchy, something. It sounded off. You touched your fingers to the mirror and stared. The reflection was wearing your dress, so unless the mirror had been enchanted…
But no. She’d specifically said that you were under a curse.
“That’s really me, isn’t it?” you asked yourself. As the realization faded a bit, you felt oddly calm. Almost detached. With a low groan and a series of creaks and cracks, you hobbled over to the door to flip the sign to closed and lock the door. 
Well. This was… something.
You creaked and cracked and groaned your way up the stairs to your apartment. There were no wizards or witches in Kalevala, you knew this. So there would be no one to help you here. Which meant there was no point staying, honestly. Wizards were notoriously unreliable, from what you’d heard. You had no guarantee one would come even if you sent a letter begging them. 
So, clearly, the best choice was your next one: go find one. Surely if you found a wizard (or witch, you weren’t going to picky) one would help you, right? And of course there was still the mysterious wizard of the moving castle around, not far from Kalevala at all. Surely you could convince him to help. 
So you wrote a letter to Omera (in shaky handwriting that you had trouble reconciling as yours). As promised, you couldn’t write anything about the curse, and ended up wasting a few pieces of paper because of that. Finally, you gave up on that and simply wrote that you were taking a few weeks to travel for inspiration. 
Inspiration. Sure. Omera was going to read that and get half the town in an uproar. But it was the best you could do on such short notice.
That done, you gathered up some food and your favorite cloak. You locked your apartment, and sealed a spare key in with the letter to Omera, which you left on the shop counter. Omera had a key to the shop - she’d let herself in once someone realized you were gone.
(Someone would realize, right? Right. Of course.) 
With a faint wistfulness, you patted the shop door, and set off to find a wizard. Fortunately, though you’d aged quite a bit, you still seemed hale - your legs worked fine (after a few more cracks), and though you were slower than usual, you were able to get around just fine. 
The walk out of town to the hills was… something. It was odd. You’d left the town exactly once before, to visit your other sister Cara in the capitol once. But even then, you’d had transportation, and Omera beside you. Leaving on your own with nothing but your pack? It was frightening, and new, but somehow liberating. There was no expectation here. No inherited dress shop to run. No expectant clients to appease. No gossip to listen in on, or ignore. 
It was quiet.
Once out of town proper, you started climbing the hills. There were dirt roads up here for the farmers that lived out this way, and for now you just continued along those. You took a couple breaks, sitting on the side of the road to take a drink or eat a nibble, always turning to look back at Kalevala. 
“It doesn’t look so far away,” you muttered to yourself. “I could probably throw a stone into the nearest chimney!” 
Heaving yourself upright again, you started on again, until you spotted what looked like a stick. A walking stick, maybe. You could use one of those. 
Hobbling over, you grabbed the stick and managed to wrestle it free from the hedge along the road. Only it wasn’t a walking stick. It was some kind of scarecrow. You hefted it upright (with perhaps a muttered swear or two) and then squinted up at the scarecrow.
“Why is your head a turnip?” you asked, rhetorically. “Ah, well. Not a walking stick after all. Too bad, my friend. May you find a better field to stand in.” 
You continued on your way, grumbling a bit to yourself. It was getting late - the sun had not yet set, but it was low in the sky. Your daylight was limited, and you had no idea where you would bed down for the night. 
You stopped for supper on a low rock, sitting and stretching out your legs with a low groan. You could still see the town quite clearly. 
“All this walking and I’ve barely left home,” you grumbled. “This wizard had better be able to help me.” 
You gnawed on your food, stuck somewhere between melancholy, anger, and resignation. But you were far too stubborn to turn back now. After all, what did you have left to lose? Certainly not your good looks. You chortled at yourself for that. 
You had just gotten to your feet again when you spotted a likely-looking stick. Hobbling carefully over to it in the dimming light, you pulled a nice walking stick out of the hedge. It was a bit tall for you, but smooth and sturdy. 
“Now this is a fine find!” you muttered. “This will be a great help.” 
And with that you marched on. You were panting as you reached the top of the hill and you paused to look around. The land out here really was beautiful - rolling hills dotted with farms. Although you could see something moving towards you. Something big. Something big and grey and oddly bulbous, not very like a castle at all, actually. 
The wizard’s castle ground to a stop not far from you. It was odd, round where it shouldn’t be, not as tall as you expected, and an odd color. It was almost metallic, although surely it wasn’t actually made of metal. That would be preposterous. 
“Well, I wanted the wizard,” you told your stick. “I suppose I should go knock.” You started towards the castle, searching for a way in. There wasn’t one immediately apparent. It wasn’t until you hobbled around to the back that you found a door, and eagerly started towards it. 
The castle started moving.
“Will you slow down?” you gasped at the castle, hobbling as fast as you could. You managed to tap on the door with your stick, stumbling a bit and falling behind momentarily. With one desperate hop, you managed to grab the doorknob. Another hop and a skip got one foot on the doorframe, and you pushed the door open. Two more skipping steps got you in the castle, and the door slammed shut after you. 
Your first impression of the inside of the castle was… not favorable. While it wasn’t a total mess, it was cluttered. The large table in the center of the main room had objects strewn across it. More things lay on the floor, largely shoved into corners out of the way. (You didn’t quite dare to look too closely at these items.) A large fireplace dominated one wall, with a cushy armchair in front of it. Troubles momentarily forgotten, you made straight for the chair, sinking into it with a grateful groan. These old bones hurt more than you thought possible, but the warmth of the fire was slowly helping. 
“What a curious fire,” you mused to your walking stick. “Why, it’s almost got a face. Curious indeed what these wizards can do.”
“No wizard did this,” the fire snapped back at you. 
You blinked. The fire blinked back. There was a riot of bright red flames atop the face, and the face itself was vaguely feminine, all in yellow and orange with a touch of blue at the eyes. 
“The fire speaks?” you asked, sitting up straighter.
“Yes, the fire speaks,” the fire spoke. “The fire also has a name. You can call me Peli.” The fire puffed up a bit.
“Peli,” you repeated dutifully. You were still not convinced you were somehow hallucinating this. 
“So what brings you out here? Not many are willing to wander out so far away from the town, or so close to Tattooine.” Peli leaned forward a bit. 
“I’m seeking a wizard,” you told Peli. You noticed the logs in the grate were almost burned up, and leaned over to heft a new log into the fire.
“Oh that’s nice,” Peli hummed, settling in on the new log. “Why do you need a wizard? Oh, wait.” The fire looked you up and down, very obviously. “Aha! You’re under a curse, too!”
“I am,” you agreed. “What do you mean, too?”
“I am also under a curse,” Peli told you, lowering her voice. “But I can help you, if you help me.” 
“You can break my curse?” you asked, caught between eagerness and suspicion.
“‘Course I can!” Peli boasted. “I wasn’t always stuck to this grate, you know. I’m a very powerful fire demon.” 
“So I see.” You yawned. You couldn’t help it. You’d been traveling all day, the fire was warm and felt good on your old bones, the chair was comfortable enough.
“Hey. Hey! Will you help me or not?” Peli hissed.
“Alright,” you agreed, half-asleep. “I’ll help you, if you promise you’ll help me.”
You missed whatever Peli’s response was. Your head tipped back against the chair and you were out like a light.
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kuekyuuq · 3 years ago
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Gloria, Jet-lags and Imps [6x11]
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Let’s jump right in:
Kinda love how Kara lamp-shaded addressed the fact she didn't tell the gang about her adventures in the PZ. She’s not wrong, tho.
...what do I want to say about Mxy using what's basically a well-known gay-anthem to tell his tale? I mean, it didn’t lead anywhere. The original song is about freeing oneself, liberation, stepping out of a (gone bad) relationship and moving on, stronger for it - empowerment. The only connection I could make, is that originally it was Nyxly’s aim to just do that (freeing herself and her kind from an oppressor), but in the way Mxy performed it, that part of the parallel was long over before he even reached the chorus. It’s also a popular Karaoke song, tho, so... he chose it because it’s catchy? I’ll try not to overthink it for now. At least, the Superfriend’s reactions were fun.
Nia exiting the elevator, "And what's this Old Stone?" I love it when ppl enter a room / situation and pick up on words that they couldn't have possibly heard. I think cinema sins ding such... Are we to assume, she dreamed Mxy's rendition of ‘I will survive’? Or is the elevator not sound-proof at all? (If it’s the latter, Nia later apparently telling Brainy “in private” between scenes / during the elevator ride about her Nyxly adventures, was a silly thing to do.)
So, "Jared" created the ring Old Stone to rule them all, it got shattered into the Paragons totems? Nyxly needs the totems and to get them she needs a crystal which also belonged to "Jared" - who happens to be Mxy's ancestor, which is why she needs Mxy / his blood, too.
I have one important and incredibly relevant question here, tho... 
With the introduced imps and their names... Why’s dude named Jared of all things?!
Really, did I mishear that? If so, I’ll leave it as is and never edit, bc that would be hilarious in its own right 😋
...
Not sure what to make about Supergirl paraphrasing a Dirty Dancing quote.  "Nobody puts Mxy into a power crystal on my watch."  ...is he Baby now? (Seriously, though: Which of the writers thought that was a fitting quote to use in that particular context?)
...now, is the exposition section of the episode over yet?
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Sensitive Brainy sensed something was up with Nia. He can relate... Nia doubting Kara would understand, too, is ridiculous. But I get it... insecurities and all. But, I mean, just 5 minutes later Kara announces she wants to save Nyxly despite her wrongdoings. And yet Nia still remains convinced, Kara wouldn’t forgive her own personal mini-me... After having witnessed Kara forgiving Lena for a whole season of the writers being stupid messing up to the nth degree. But I digress, Lena’s Lena.
...how old is Nia meant to be again? Just asking out of completely unrelated curiosity.
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F*ck. They really went with NewFoundland...
Imma assume it was an executive choice after realizing they couldn’t find enough actors and actresses with a convincing Irish accent... maybe. Again, no offense to Newfoundland! Just... we got the insinuations of Ireland, not Newfoundland... And truthfully, when I think of magic, Ireland is an easy association. Whereas I only due to this whole debacle learned Newfoundland has Irish ancestry. So, okay, the show forced me to learn something new... I give ‘em that.
An easy journey, she said.
Lena's been off-screen for two whole episodes, Kara announcing at the beginning of ‘Dreamweaver’ [6x09] Lena being “back east” (at least insinuating Lena’s left the west-coast already), which span over at least one full day (feat. a scene at night), and ‘I still rise’ [6x10] at least another a whole day (the whole Nia’s mom back for a day deal). And, now, after at least 48 hours she barely just arrived.
Lemme check how long a regular plane would need to fly from California to NFL......... ... .. .. So... approx. 10 hours with at least one layover. 
Yeah, using a private jet made it easier, but apparently also much, much slower...
Or, Lena randomly went some other places / did some sight-seeing in NFL before she decided to finally visit her mother’s hometown...  [Either that or the timelines don’t match up and Lena’s scenes are flashbacks of sorts.]
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Optimistic and relaxed Lena is a sight to behold. I rewound 3 times, just to enjoy it for as long as possible. We all knew it was going to be short-lived... 
Let’s check off a few more items...
OMG, Kara hiding behind Alex at the mere sight of the PZ-projector broke my heart!  😢
"Elisabeth Walsh" is the new 'the one you shall not name'. ...poor Lena. 😭
Oh, so Mxy wants to be Patrick Swayze instead of Baby... gotcha.
...is this going anywhere?
KITTY!!! Okay, this must be the best opponent in the history of CWSG. 
Despite the horrible CGI, SG using her heat-vision to project a laser-beam to distract the cat had me in (happy-) tears! 🤣
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Gotta love the civilians of National City quickly returning to business as usual once the giant cat is gone. Even the police officers looked rather chill...
Nyxly did look fabulous this episode ^^ 
Andrea being Lena's rock is both great and annoying. I can't fault Andrea. It's just, that we still have to see an on-screen interaction between Lena and Kara and that bugs the heck out of me. I can’t help it. I’m sorry, Andrea.
Nia: "...is my fault." Kara: "Nu, is MY fault!" J'onn: "Stop fighting, kids!" Space-dad has spoken.
Mxy used an LuthorCorp copy machine... and of cos it's faulty. It's not an L-Corp product.
Kara forgiving Nia came as a surprise to her... Oooookay. I mean, the show has been writing Kara a bit inconsistently the past two seasons... so, yeah, maybe being unsure which of her traits apply this week was not such a far stretch...
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Maybe it's the hair, but I wished, Florence was played by Alex Kingston.
So, not-Alex-Kingston shows Lena herself with a funny wig and tells her how her mother was still watching her...
If it wasn't for Katie's acting skills (I love her.) I would have already hit my head against the wall repeatedly. Something about these scenes had me constantly cringe and I made it through 5.5 seasons of this show already... Can’t quite put my finger on it, but it was highly distracting from the story that explained Lena’s mom was special even to another witch, where there was domestic abuse, and an accidental murder. Y’know, important stuff, deep-cutting stuff! 
At least, poor widddle Lena got some closure there. Elisabeth was a good cookie. And filled with magic. And Lena’s gotta have that ‘spark’, too... 
....so... Lena’s gonna stay in NFL for how much longer, to train becoming a witch?  Please, just hand her a how-to manual and send her back home, to figure it out on her own, please... (Yes, that would be horrible decision-making, but I need her back with the team!)
On to the finish line: 
So... Mxy IS Nyxly's brother? Wait, that doesn’t sound right... then Nyxly would have the same blood... Did I miss something? Can someone explain, please? Or is he her ex, and that’s where his rendition of “I will survive” makes sense?
Hnn... I can't help, but think Kara's speech for Nyxly was 85% based on her experiences with Lena in s05.
Awww... he said "stronger together"... Mxy... I hope, you'll be okay!
Lena believes in magic now. And I absolutely love how Lena wants to science magic XD
...but apparently magic isn’t science that hasn’t been explained yet, but parallel... powers? concepts? ether strings?
Nyxly has a loyal henchman now. Which was a bit heavy-handed. Took way too much of screen-time, so it better leads to something interesting.
And Kara is on a warpath now. Wooooot! Girl’s got enough.
...what else? 
Did I miss a third Patrick Swayze hint / quote / mention?  I learned, these things come in threes... Y’know, basic writing rules... 
I guess, for once the episode title was meant to be taken literally, Mxy popping up between characters, to try and help. (I need in-show footage, of Mxy sneaking up on ppl, without his powers, on all fours / crouched, just to get the desired effect.) I mean, I’ve never really watched Malcom, but wasn’t he like what Mxy usually is? A bit of a trouble-maker, prankster, chaos-ensuing wherever he goes? ...well, in that case, the episode title didn’t hold up, as Mxy’s scenes were not fun or really goofy. Yes, there was some superficial humor, but just to serve Mxy dealing with not being able to use his powers, which in turn was only barely scratched at (although it turned out to be his final character development crisis, appreciating not having powers and - in turn - facing consequences for once). Again, a whole lot going on in the episode, so a lot of that may have ended up on the cutting-room floor.
...where’s Kelly? Secretly adopting a kid, maybe?
...Kara’s still a reporter, right? I mean, whenever it serves the immediate plot, yes? ...Not even a throw-away line, that she has to pop up at CatCo for appearances sake? Since Andrea is already upset with her AND looking into her friends’ identities? At least, Kara should take a peek to make sure Andrea hasn’t uncovered anything yet... No?
Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. Kue out.
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the-a-word-2214 · 4 years ago
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A.L.F.
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summary: the A.L.F. are on the move and stumble upon a lost girl on their way to finding Okja. Inspired by the events of the movie Okja.
pairing: Jay x reader
word count: 1,543
warnings: language, fluff, possibly sensitive subjects, mentions of kidnapping and neglect, mentions of medical equipment
soundtrack: Annie’s Song- John Denver
The grime under your fingernails had started to become unbearable. The gnawing feeling of the zip ties around your wrists was enough for you to want to scream.
There should be a village coming to look for you, but alas, no one was coming. Your own father had sold you in exchange for the last bit of food that he could find at the market. So here you were, alone and dirty thirty days later in the deepest of basements. In Korea. You were beyond dirty, your once colorful blue hair now faded as your roots peaked through.
Your ribs were now showing, you’d dropped about ten pounds in the span of a month. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. Just as you went to poke at the stale bread that was left on the dingy floor, a commotion could be heard upstairs. Murmuring and screams of pain sounded as a smoke bomb was dropped next to the door of the basement.
A “thunk” knocked against the door as it was broken open with a hefty shove. Five mysterious figures in masks surrounded you as you cowered towards the wall. They took off their ski masks as an authorative figure bent down to be eye level with you. The tight suit pants intrigued you as you looked over his figure.
His kind and inviting eyes mystified you as he gave you the smallest of smiles. “We are the Animal Liberation Front, we’re here to save you.” His voice came out hushed and gentle as he sliced the zip ties around your wrists with a knife. He handed the knife back to a girl with red hair before he scooped you up and carried you away.
The next few moments were a blur as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Your thoughts wavering as you tried to understand what was happening. Your blood pressure dropped rapidly as they fed an IV through a bag and hooked it up to your arm. The hands that once held you before now cradled your head as he lead your eyes up to his.
“It’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.” You heard him say just before you drifted off into the blackness of your subconscious.
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You awoke to a pounding headache and a new sensitivity to light. The room around you was unfamiliar, a hotel room. The same five bodies from before were surrounding you, their appearances all different from one another.
The kind man from before was next to your bedside, his warm hand over yours. “My name is Jay. This is Red, Blonde, Silver, and K.” He pointed to each individual as he spoke.
“You’re the Animal Liberation Front.” Yes. That was it. Your memory, although a little foggy, hung onto the words that he said before you drifted into unconsciousness.
A hint of a smile plays at Jay’s lips as he gives you a confirming nod. “Yes, that’s correct. And you are (Y/N) (L/N). You lived with your father before you were kidnapped, is that correct?”
Tears swelled in your eyes as you looked towards the floor. “That’s not right, h-he sold me. He sent me to Korea in exchange for food.” Your voice wavered as you uttered the words that you denied in your mind every day.
Silver and Red looked to the ground after hearing your story. It was unfathomable that a father could do that to his only child. It was your reality though, and you could only grow from it.
“We’re really sorry, (Y/N). Although, we have a proposition for you. Show her Jay.” This was the first time that you’d heard blonde speak, he was evidently Australian.
Jay shows you images of past missions on an iPad. The sight of them reclaiming helpless animals makes your heart beat twice as fast. You’re snapped back to reality when Jay stops speaking. “Hm? Yes?”
A soft chuckle passes his lips as he hands the iPad back to K. “We want you to join us. We stop animal abusing corporations like Mirando along with many others. Our credo is set in stone and our mission is clear; save the planet, one animal at a time. So, what do you say? We will only begin your initiation if you agree.”
Before he can get another word out, you’re agreeing. “Yes, I’ll do it. I want to join you.” This was new, exciting, enticing. Their cause was noble, no one could deny that.
That was all it took, suddenly Jay was pulling you into a hug, the smell of his strong cologne intoxicating. You slightly chuckled before pulling away, the kind gesture made you realize how touch starved you were.
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That leads me to your current predicament, shaky hands gripped the edge of a skyscraper as you dangled over the ledge. Blonde and Jay had their hands outstretched to you, they slowly began pulling you up. It was beyond terrifying but apparently that’s what it took to initiate someone into the A.L.F.
Your breaths were heavy and fervent as you stood atop the ledge and walked into the hotel room where you all were staying. The suit-clad man was who you clang to first, his intelligent mind and calm demeanor drew you in like a magnet. He was your boss first and foremost, secondly, he was your friend. An ally to turn to when things went wrong.
This newfound love made your heart swell with joy as you wrapped your arms tighter around Jay.
Your affection was interrupted just as a group known as the Black Chalk infiltrated the room, tear gas was misted into the air as batons were swung left and right, hitting your teammates.
“No!” You cried as you reached out for them just as a blow hit the back of your head. Your vision blurred once more as you grabbed onto Jay’s hand. He grabbed onto it, intertwining your fingers as he is struck down as well.
With the last bit of strength that he has, he pulls you towards him and dashes out. A limp to his step but he is able to run away nonetheless. With you in his arms like you once were all those years ago, he takes off down the street until he reaches a waiting truck to take you both to safety.
You catch glimpses of your team in handcuffs as the door slides down. With bated breath, you slink down the wall. Your eyes drift to the gaping wound on Jay’s stomach, blood begins to pool at the site. His eyes drift closed as you catch his head in your arms, moving him to your lap.
You let out an inhuman sound, a horrid sob. “K! We need help now!” You screech at him as he immediately gets on the phone with what you assume is a medic. You look down to the man that you’re so desperately in love with and stroke his hair away from his face.
“Don’t you dare leave me, Jay. I need you. I love you.” You press a gentle kiss to his slick forehead.
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You never leave his side as the medic works, she makes quick work of an IV and begins to also work in a blood transfusion while she orders you to put pressure on the wound. All you can do is nod as you heed her commands.
Once she finishes, she checks his vitals before K drops her off and you drive to another hotel room. It’s as if the constant places that you called home kept constantly changing. Hotel room after hotel room, it was always what you woke up in.
The A.L.F. was a gratifying yet tiring job. One of the rewards of it was meeting and having Jay by your side. He made even your darkest day brighter, while also being a constant reminder of your team’s main goal.
You and K help your superior into the hotel room, your friend leaves the two of you alone for some privacy.
Your movements are careful as you ease him onto the bed. His eyes are as calm as usual, they hold a sense of nervousness for once though.
“I heard you.” He mutters as he looks at your hands, the nail polish on your nails chipped and worn down.
“Hm? Heard me when?”
“In the truck, I heard what you said. You told me that you loved me, that you needed me.” His lips curl upwards as his eyebrow quirks up.
You can’t help the blush that makes an appearance on your cheeks. “I did say that. You’re right.”
“Well, did you mean it? I have to know. You know how I feel about you, Blue.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease. An affectionate gesture recalling the color of your hair. His voice wavers as he reaches his hand out to touch yours, brushing his fingers lightly against the top of your hand.
You look to his hand and take it, enveloping it in your own. “Yes, I do.”
He smiles even wider and pulls you into a soft kiss. Your lips brushing against each other’s clumsily before you both become sure of yourselves.
This was the start of something beautiful, you just knew it was.
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