#I can also see my work building from here…. grim on a weekend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themaladaptivewriter12 · 1 year ago

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Title: Lapdog Days

Part 2 of my “The Lion's Den” series! Part 1 here!

Parings: None

Summary:

After Mirai makes a bet with Leona, he literally has to enter the "Lion's Den." Mirai just hopes he makes it out to tell the tale.

cw: Arguments, light angst, bloody noses mentioned (not too graphic), fist fights (again, nothing too graphic), biting

a/n: Please Read: I don't wanna say this was graphic, but it all depends on your comfort levels as readers, so the warning is there. They do fight, but I wanna put it out there that Mirai is okay, he can hold his own. This also by no means is hate for Leona, or any type of villianization.

a/n: This is not a "Bullies to lovers". Just putting that out there. I wanna show Mirai's and Leona's process of trust and eventual love.

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do! (─‿‿─)♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

What Mirai didn’t know was that being Leona’s lackey meant that he had to board with the lion, he was literally entering the lion’s den. Mirai argued it would be impossible for him to do his bidding during the week, so he and Leona agreed on the weekend. Their terms were if Mirai could survive the weekend, then Leona would forget everything, if not, Leona would punch him.

Mirai packed a weekend bag and bid Grim farewell after the fact that the cat refused to go with him, throwing the words that Mirai tended to throw at Grim back at him, “you reap what you sow.” Mirai made his way to the Savanaclaw Dorm, heart beating out his chest. Yes he was a little nervous, but Mirai was one never to back down from a challenge. As always, after Mirai passed through the mirror, he was hit with the heavy smell of grass and a dry breeze. Mirai walked up the building, and as he did so, the Beastfolk of Savanaclaw looked at him skeptically, glaring as he passed, but Mirai didn’t let them intimidate him, well on the outside at least. Although, he was pretty sure they could smell fear.

At the main entrance, Ruggie and Leona were waiting for his arrival. Mirai guessed wherever Ruggie told Leona was super funny, for Leona burst into a fit of laughter, mirth coloring his face. His voice was loud as he laughed, his eyes closed, teeth pearly and sharp in a smile. Mirai’s heart swooned at the sound, but as he got closer, Leona’s ears twitched and his laughter quieted. Mirai couldn’t help feeling dejected at that.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Leona gruffed.

“My time, remember?” Mirai retorted, “I have a cat to feed. He can’t cook for himself, and I wanna keep my house in one piece.”

Ruggie snickered.

“Watch it Herbivore,” Leona growled, “Remember who you’re talking to. You’re on my turf now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Mirai gasped as Leona yanked forward by the front of his shirt, a growl in his voice, “Keep talking to me like that, see what happens.”

Mirai put his hands up in surrender, looking away from the snarling lion. Leona huffed, dropping the Prefect to his feet, walking off. “Let’s go, Prefect,” Leona ordered loudly.

Mirai followed.

“If I’m not with you, then Leona or Jack will be,” Ruggie whispered as they followed Leona, “I don’t trust these guys enough to leave you alone.”

Mirai nodded, glad at least one person was looking out for him.

“Although it probably will be me,” Ruggie sighed.

“Sorry,” Mirai muttered.

Ruggie smirked, “Get me a box of donuts, and five steak and cheese sandwiches from Sam’s and we’ll call it even.”

“Alright, alright,” Miral chuckled.

Mirai and Ruggie had been on surprisingly good terms since coming to Night Raven College. He started seeing Ruggie more and more after he started working at Mr. S’s Mysterious Shop, and somehow those interactions made them closer. After a while, Mirai started saving a box of donuts for the Hyena Beastman, and Ruggie started saving Mirai’s skin when he got caught up in the issues of the Savanaclaw boys. And slowly, but surely, Mirai gained Ruggie’s trust, and he was glad he was able to give Ruggie another friend, and someone to rely on. And Mirai knew he surely was. He probably wouldn't have made it this far if it weren’t for Ruggie.

Leona led them through a set of doors that led to a long hallway and at the end was a small set of stairs and another set of doors, and Mirai finally realized where Leona was taking them. Leona opened the next set of doors and entered his room, already barking orders, “Herbivore, go clean the bathroom.”

Ruggie snickered, “I’ll get you something to clean with.”

Mirai nodded, watching as Leona shook off his vest, kicked off his sandals, and unbuttoned his shirt, before flopping onto his bed with a sigh. Mirai stood there awkwardly, waiting for Ruggie to return.

“Whaddya doin’ just standing there?” Leona asked, his uncovered eye glaring.

“I’m not cleaning your bathroom with my bare hands,” Mirai sneered.

Leona growled lowly, a retort on his tongue, but kept his mouth shut as Ruggie walked back in, cleaning supplies in hand.

“What happened now?” Ruggie groaned.

“I did nothing,” Mirai said, putting his hands up.

Leona grumbled, turning his head away from his two underclassmen.

“Here,” Ruggie said, handing Mirai the bucket of supplies, “I have a test to study for. Check up on you later.”

“Seyaz,” Mirai waved.

Mirai sighed to himself as he entered the bathroom. It wasn’t disgusting as most bathrooms were, but the issue was the sheer size of it. It was quite large, larger than any of the bathrooms in Ramshackle. Mirai shucked off his blazer, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, gloving up, and with a determined nod, Mirai got to work.

Mirai started with the towels and the clothing strewn about, putting them in the hamper, next he put on a mask and began cleaning the double vanity sinks, the tub, the toilet and the shower in the corner. The sinks were the least of his worries, both taking less than five minutes to complete, it was everything else. The tub was large and deep, and the shower was large and tall. Mirai wasn’t really on the short side, being around average height, but with his injuries from the accident, he knew he would really have to work to get those clean, he could already feel the shoulder and back pain. Toilets, on the other hand, were just plain gross, he even hated cleaning his own back at Ramshackle. It took a while, but Mirai managed to do it all, and now, the last thing to do was the floors.

Mirai sighed as he scrubbed the floors on his hands and knees. He had mopped first, of course, but he realized the mop wasn’t a good one, it didn’t get as deep as it should’ve in the grout lines. This is why Mirai hated grout, it was so unsanitary and hard to clean. So here he was, cleaning Leona’s bathroom floor with a coarse hand brush, scrubbing into the grout. Mirai made his way from the far wall near the toilet, to the door. He only had a little left to do before he was done, and boy was he looking forward to it.

As Mirai scrubbed, he saw something move in the corner of his eye, with a yelp, Mirai jumped up, looking around for anything. It was his own shadow. Mirai chuckled to himself, relieved it wasn’t some weird Twisted Wonderland spider, and got back to it. It wasn’t long until he saw it again. Mirai gasped, jumping back again, scanning the floor, it was there again, a shadow, but not his own. Mirai whipped around and yelped, slipping backwards onto the stone floor. It was Leona, propped up in the doorway, watching him clean, and that shadow he kept seeing? It was Leona’s tail swishing back and forth.

“You good?” Leona chuckled, a smug grin on his face.

“Ha ha,” Mirai scoffed, getting back to the floors.

Now that he was hyper aware of Leona’s presence, he was getting nervous. He just hoped that he didn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already had.

“Sup Prefect how’s it-woah! It looks good in here,” Ruggie gasped, poking his head in the doorway.

“I’m almost done,” Mirai huffed, voice muffled by his mask.

“Does it?” a deep voice asked, “Wow, it does! Nice job Mirai.”

Mirai looked up and there stood Jack, an impressed expression on his face.

“If you think I do things halfway, especially cleaning, then you’re mistaken,” Mirai huffed. “Move back a bit?”

The three complied and Mirai moved to scrub the line of the threshold.

“Finally, I’m done,” Mirai groaned, dropping the brush into the bucket of water, standing. Mirai shook off the gloves, tore off the mask, and stretched, back cracking in multiple places.

“Looks really good in here,” Ruggie said, “I might just have to make you clean the rest of the bathrooms.”

“Not happening,” Mirai gruffed.

Ruggie laughed, “I’m kidding. What do you think, Leona? Didn’t he do a good job?”

Leona stood there, eyeing the very clean bathroom, then scoffed, grumbling to himself as he left the bathroom. Mirai stuck his tongue out as Leona turned his back. Ruggie and Jack howled with laughter.

“Quit it,” Leona growled, “Prefect, go make me something to eat.”

“And what would his Highness like to eat?” Mirai asked, bowing mockingly.

Leona roared, lunging for the magicless Prefect, and Mirai cackled, running out of the room with Jack in tow.

“You gotta admit, he did a good job,” Ruggie said looking up at Leona.

Leona just scoffed, walking over to the table in the corner, setting up his chess board.

As Mirai and Jack made their way down stairs, Mirai already had in mind what he would make for Leona. Making it to the kitchen, Mirai got right to work, pulling out some bread, some cheese, some butter, some meat, and a pan.

“Making a grilled cheese sandwich?” Jack asked, standing out of the way.

“Yep,” Mirai chirped.

Grilled cheese was quick and easy, and he knew he could make a good one. Mirai headed the pan, adding the butter. Once it was sizzling, Mirai added the sandwich which was a slice of bread, cheese, three slices of meat, cheese, and a slice of bread. Mirai cooked the sandwich until it was melty and golden brown. Mirai made eight more sandwiches in quick succession, five for Leona, two for Ruggie, and two for Jack.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jack said, “You already have to cook for Leona.”

“I don’t mind,” Mirai smiled, pouring a tall glass of lemonade.

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah, I ate before I got here. Grim wanted spaghetti.”

Jack nodded.

Jack walked Mirai back upstairs, and Mirai may or may not have been a little proud with the hungry looks he was getting from the plate full of sandwiches.

“Ding dong,” Mirai sang, entering Leona’s room.

Ruggie cackled, throwing his head back, and Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

Mirai walked the plate of food to Leona, standing next to him. Leona’s ears twitched but he didn’t acknowledge the Prefect, focusing on his chess board.

“I will drop this plate,” Mirai threatened.

“And I’ll make you lick it off the floor before doing it over again,” Leona growled.

The room was silent as the two glared at each other, the tension thick and viscous like blot ink.

Ruggie sighed, taking the plate from Mirai, placing it on the table in front of Leona “Thanks Prefect.”

“You’re welcome,” Mirai bowed mockingly at Leona. “There’s some for you too, that is if no one ate it by now.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack shouted, running out of the room with an equally concerned Ruggie running after him.

Leona huffed, looking at the plate of food skeptically.

“No I didn’t spit in the food,” Mirai deadpanned, plopping onto the sofa.

Leona snarled at the Prefect, “I swear to the seven, if you spit in this, I will rip you to shreds.”

“As I said, I didn’t. I’m not that rude.”

Leona huffed, going back to his food, and took a big bite. Leona chewed thoughtfully, then looked at the sandwich. “There’s meat in this?” Leona asked around a mouthful of food.

“Uh huh,” Mirai said absentmindedly as he scrolled through his Magicam.

It got silent and Mirai looked at Leona, and chuckled to himself. Leona was stuffing his face, chomping away at the sandwiches, and as fast as Leona picked on up, he was scarfing down another. It wasn’t long until his plate was empty, the bottom covered in crumbs, and Leona sat there licking his fingers.

“Good wasn’t it?” Mirai smirked.

Leona shot up from his seat and stalked over to the Prefect.

“Nah ah,” Mirai shook his head, jumping from his seat, “Do not touch me with your dirty hands!”

Leona stopped, a devious smirk worming its way onto his face, before he walked towards the Prefect with a new purpose.

“Leona, stop! Stop! Don’t you dare touch me!”

Leona chuckled darkly, stalking towards the prefect, and Mirai screamed, running out the room and down the halls.

Ruggie and Jack were enjoying their food, when they heard the screaming. They both looked at each other and jumped from their seats, running to the Ramshackle Prefect’s aid. When they got to him, they didn’t know what to make of the situation. Mirai was trapped in the corner on the floor, screaming for his life, arms crossed over his face, and Leona cackled from above him, hands hovering over the Prefect's face. Beastmen passed the two, befuddled looks on their faces, not knowing whether they should stay and watch the pathetic sight or just pass by.

“Meh, they’re fine,” Ruggie said with a shrug, going back to the kitchen.

Jack looked skeptical, but followed after his Upperclassman.

Mirai woke up the shrill noise of his morning alarm, and with a grunt, he sat up. The Prefect wasn’t even surprised that Leona didn’t even so much as stir at the noise. Mirai slept on the couch last night, it wasn’t a bad one, but it wasn’t a bed either, and no, it wasn’t good for his back, but hey, he’s slept on worse. The worst part was Leona’s loud snoring, he sounded like a derailing freight train.

Mirai sighed. He had a shift at eight and he still needed to cook for Leona and wake him. Mirai used the bathroom, showered, brushed his teeth and dressed. As he exited the bathroom, Ruggie was standing in the doorway, still in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes.

“Mornin’,” Mirai waved.

“Mornin’,” Ruggie yawned.

“You ready?”

Mirai nodded.

In the kitchen, Mirai made a large stack of pancakes, an omelet and some sausage, and carried them back up stairs, and Ruggie carried a glass of orange juice. When they got to the room, there were a bunch of students milling around the halls.

“What happened?” Ruggie asked, concerned, frowning his brows.

“Sorry Ruggie,” Jack said, “They wanted to see Mirai try and wake up Housewarden Leona, and I can’t say I’m not curious myself.”

Ruggie laughed, “Well I can’t get mad at that.”

Mirai set the plates down and now was met with the most troublesome task he would have to complete. Waking up a sleeping lion. Mirai walked over to the lamp and turned it on, nothing.

“Leona,” Mirai yelled, “Wake up!”

He didn’t stir, continuing to snore. Several students began to laugh.

Mirai marched over to the side of the bed and shook the man, “Wake up!”

Leona grumbled, swatting Mirai’s hand away.

“Wake up you lazy bastard!”

Mirai sighed and checked the time, it was seven forty-five. He was gonna be late if he didn’t speed things up.

“Leona,” Mirai yelled.

“Can it,” Leona grumbled, tuning over.

Mirai pulled at his arms, and Leona pulled them back and under himself. Mirai pulled at his legs, and Leona kicked him. Mirai coughed a grunt, winded and now aggravated. Mirai snatched a pillow from the couch, and crawled to the top of the bed. Straddling Leona’s waist, Mirai began whaling on him with it.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up,” Mirai yelled.

Leona snorted, eyes flying open with a shout, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

The room burst out laughing at the sight of their Housewarden being beaten with his own pillow.

“Stop! S-Stop,” Leona shouted, throwing his hands up to shield his face.

“Oh good, you're up,” Mirai said sarcastically, tossing the pillow into Leona’s face, “Get up, get dressed. Your breakfast is on the table. Sorry I can’t play with you any longer, I have a shift in ten. Ta!”

Mirai jumped from Leona’s lap, grabbed his work bag, his phone, and his keys, jogging out of the room, leaving a dazed, and slightly offended Leona on the bed, with his dormmates laughing hysterically in the hall.

Down at Sam’s shop, Mirai sighed as he munched on a blueberry muffin, drinking a mango smoothie.

“My friends say you’re sad, Little Imp,” Sam said as he entered the shop, “What’s wrong?” “I’m not sad. It’s just, like, ugh,” Mirai groaned, “So like remember last week when I had that huge bruise on my face? Yeah I didn’t smash it on a tree, Leona punched me.”

“Should I be concerned?” Sam asked, a smile too wide on his face.

“Nah. It was over a misunderstanding, but it gets worse from there.”

Mirai went and told everything that happened between him and Leona over the past two weeks, explaining how he felt bad and wanted to make it up to him for all the wrong he caused him.

“So yeah, I dropped water on him, he chased me, and instead of being punched again, I agreed to become his lapdog until the weekend is over,” Mirai rambled. “Oh and did I mention I have a huge crush on him?”

“Should I tell someone about this? Should I be concerned?” Sam asked, worried and totally lost.

“For Leona’s safety from me? Yes. My safety from Leona? No. My brain? Yes.”

“So why are you sad?”

“I wasn’t, but I just know he’s gonna give me a hard time this weekend.”

“All I can say is good luck,” Sam laughed.

The morning shift went like the morning shift did. Slow in the beginning, busier when lunch rolled around, and today was one of those days. Well the clock struck eleven, it wasn’t so bad, students coming in for things like brunch, candy, erasers, things to pass the time with. But when noon hit, it got really busy. Students came in one after the other, asking for all kinds of things, then it got even worse. It was an early lunch rush, the students hangry, demanding food, and many started giving Mirai a hard time.

“I asked for blue,” a deep voice yelled.

Mirai knew he asked for red.

“Where’s my change?” another shouted.

“Meat! Give me meat,” a guy hollered.

Mirai was at his wits end, even Sam was beginning to get a little agitated, his usual friendly smile not quite reaching his eyes. And like magic, it all died down when Mirai’s shift ended at three.

Mirai sighed loudly, slumping against the backside of the counter. Sam sat on the wall across from him, head in his hands, arms resting on his knees.

“That was rough,” Mirai joked dryly.

“In all my years working here,” Sam laughed bitterly, “I’ve never been that aggravated with my customers.”

Mirai chuckled bitterly.

“You notice that they were Savanaclaw students yet?” Sam said, looking Mirai with a smirk.

“W-What?! They were-ohh,” Mirai rambled, realization coloring his face.

Sam laughed loudly, “Seems that Imp is giving you a run for your money.”

“Stupid oversized house cat,” Mirai grumbled. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, but you on the other hand should get back. Might not be a good idea to keep him waiting.”

“Yeah,” Mirai sighed. “Thanks Sam, see ya later.”

Mirai changed out of his apron and grabbed a couple of cans of tuna on his way out. Mirai stopped by Ramshackle to check on Grim. The cat was fine, and more than happy to receive the cans of tuna than to see his Prefect. Mirai made his way back down to the Hall of Mirrors when he ran into Ruggie carrying a bunch of bags.

“Ruggie,” Mirai called, “Lemme help!”

“Thanks,” Ruggie said, handing Mirai two bags.

The pair made their way inside the Hall of Mirrors and entered the Savanaclaw mirror. Inside the sun was high in the sky, sun blazing its midday heat. Ruggie led Mirai through the lounge, and along the way, most of the Savanaclaw glared at the Prefect tailing Hyena Beastman.

“Ignore them,” Ruggie grumbled, “they won’t touch you as long as I’m with you.”

Mirai spotted Leona lounged out by the water clad in a pair of yellow swim trunks that held the same pattern as his dorm uniform. It was nowhere near as hot as it should be to be swimming, but Mirai didn’t comment on it.

“Oi Herbivore, where have you been?!” Leona called.

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Mirai deadpanned.

Leona growled, glaring at Mirai, “Make me something to eat, I’m starving.”

Mirai rolled his eyes as he and Ruggie made their way to the kitchen.

“So, do you have in mind what you’re gonna make?” Ruggie asked.

“I’ve been told that I make a mean hamburger, so I thought to go with that,” Mirai said thoughtfully.

“We don’t have a grinder, just so you know.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t use one anyways.”

“Well it seems you know what you're doing,” Ruggie giggled, “I’ll be back, but I’ll tell Leona to send Jack in.”

Mirai nodded, “Bye Ruggie.”

Mirai got to cooking, making the burgers from scratch. It took some time, but Mirai knew what he was doing and now that it was all finished, all there was left to do was put it all together. Each burger was assembled in the same order, bottom bun, patty, cheese, bacon, his caramelized vegetables, steak sauce, and then lastly the top bun.

“What’s that smell?”

Mirai startled with a gasp, his plating interrupted. Mirai whipped his head around, eyes meeting Leona’s.

“Burgers,” Mirai chirped, passing a plate to Leona, “and you’re lucky, I just finished.”

Leona didn’t say anything as he grabbed the plate, snatching the burger, and took a huge bite. Mirai flushed and looked away from Leona as he chewed. There was just something about the way he bit into his food, the way his mouth opened wide, showing off sharp pearly white teeth, that made Mirai hot, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. When Mirai looked back up, Leona was licking his lips, the burger devoured. Leona snapped his fingers, nodding towards the rest, and Mirai quickly passed over the remaining five, Leona definitely didn’t need to know about the last four he had hid away for Ruggie and Jack. Leona snatched up the next one and Mirai turned to begin washing the dishes he used.

Mirai cleaned in silence as Leona ate, flushed to his ears as he felt the dorm head of Savanaclaw watching him with his piercing green eyes. Mirai moved around the kitchen, washing the pan, the bowl, and the cutting board, then he moved on to the spoon, and the knives.

“Did you make those yourself?”

Mirai shut the water off, turning to face Leona who was licking his fingers, ridding himself of any rouge steak sauce that dripped down his fingers, Mirai cringed at the sloppy behavior, looking away from the Beastman.

“Yeah,” Mirai said looking at the stone pattern on the walls.

“You did? Even the meat?”

“Well, I didn’t make the cow, but yeah.”

Mirai earned a snicker from the Beastman for that one.

The Housewarden continued to stare at Mirai but didn’t say anything. Mirai just got the feeling that he just didn’t want to outright say they were good.

“You done with that?” Mirai asked, an eyebrow raised.

Leona nodded wordlessly and handed Mirai the plate, and Mirai took it back to the sink to give it a wash. Mirai finished the dishes, and went to wipe down the counters. As Mirai did so, he could feel Leona’s eyes still on him. It was a little unnerving, he could almost feel his gaze trailing all over his body, it made his hair stand on end. At this point, Mirai hoped he didn’t make a fool of himself and trip or something.

“Hey Prefect, how’s it coming in here?” Ruggie called as he entered the kitchen.

Mirai laughed, “Fine. Your portion is over there.”

Ruggie looked surprised, “You didn’t have to make me anything.”

“I didn’t, but I did. Now eat.”

Ruggie didn’t have to be told twice and he grabbed the plate, sitting down on the barstool next to Leona, and took a bite. Ruggie didn’t get past to first chew before he shot up from his seat, eyes wide.

“You made this?!”

“Yeah, I made them,” Mirai laughed.

“Great Seven that’s good.”

“Thanks,” Mirai chuckled. “Where’s your broom?”

Leona pointed to a tall slim cabinet in the wall. Grabbing the broom, Mirai made his way around the kitchen, sweeping the floor. He made sure to get the little corners where the cabinets connected, under the stove, under the fridge, and once again, Mirai felt those eyes on him more.

“If I pay you, will you make these again?” Ruggie asked.

“Keep your money, just give me the supplies and a date,” Mirai laughed.

“Did you eat Prefect?” Ruggie asked, moving to his second burger.

“Nah, but I’m good,” Mirai said, waving Ruggie off.

“Have this one then.”

“It’s fine, really,” Mirai laughed. “I don’t like meat anyways.”

There was silence and when Mirai stood up from where he was sweeping dirt into the dustpan, he cackled at the incredulous expressions on Ruggie and Leona’s faces.

“Don’t look at me like that. I could think of like ten other things I’d rather eat other than meat,” Mirai laughed.

“Then how did you-”

“Simple,” Mirai said, knowing what Ruggie’s question would be, “I put the same spices on vegetables.”

“So what are you, a vegetarian or somethin’?” Leona gruffed.

“I don’t really know. I don’t like meat, but I’ll eat chicken nuggets on a good day.”

Ruggie and Leona fell into a fit of laughter.

“Whaddaya five or somethin’?” Leona guffawed.

“You won’t eat meat, but if you do, you’ll eat a chicken nugget?!” Ruggie cackled.

“Ha ha,” Mirai said sarcastically, but it held no malice. “But yeah, that’s the only type of meat I can really tolerate without feeling nauseous. Oh! That and turkey bacon.”

Their laughter died down, but the occasional snicker would pass their lips.

“I need to get Jack to taste this, be back,” Ruggie was, carting off the last two burgers.

Leona got up, snapping at Mirai to follow him as he left. Mirai scurried after Leona, his big strides making it hard to keep up with him. Mirai followed him to the lounge where Leona promptly jumped back into the water, swimming back up to float on his back.

“Hand me my sunglasses, Herbivore,” Leona demanded, snapping his fingers.

“We’re literally inside, there is no sun,” Mirai deadpanned.

“Did I ask?”

“Now you did.”

Leona sat up, snarling as he marched over to Mirai, and Mirai tried so hard not to water drip from his tanned body.

“You really wanna get punched, don’t you?” Leona snarled, face inches from Mirai’s.

“Nah,” Mirai said slyly, but he still handed over the glasses, “I would be back at Ramshackle, eating ice cream if I wanted to get punched.”

Leona gave Mirai a bored look as he flicked him on the forehead.

“Ow,” Mirai shouted, rubbing his head.

Leona scoffed, getting back in the water to float on his back once more.

Leona stayed that way, just floating, and it didn’t take a genius to know that he had dozed off. Mirai sighed as he just sat there, watching, waiting, wondering if any of this was worth not getting beaten within every inch of his life.

“Oi Leona,” Ruggie called, marching up to the water’s edge, “You were supposed to clean that closet ages ago! Leona!”

“Ruggie,” Leona mumbled, “be quiet, wouldya?”

“Leona! Clean the closet!”

Leona growled, sitting up to stand.

“Herbivore, get me a towel,” Leona commanded.

“Yes, your Highness,” Mirai said, rolling his eyes, getting the towel.

“Shut up,” Leona seethed, snatching the cloth from Mirai.

“After you clean the closet, you have to send our new club roster to Coach Vargas,” Ruggie listed off, “then you have your weekly Housewarden report to write, and then you have to send a notice out to all the club members about practice for next week.”

Leona groaned loudly, the noise mimicking a scream.

“Oh cut it out. This is what happens when you put it all off until the last minute.”

Leona grumbled, stomping off down the hall.

Mirai just stared as Leona stomped off. He could tell a mile away that Leona’s “laziness” wasn’t just that. Yeah his beast-like instincts had played a huge part in his personality, but Mirai knew all too well what symptoms of depression looked like.

“Herbivore! Keep up,” Leona yelled from down the hall.

“His royal crankiness needs me,” Mirai huffed, “seeyaz.”

“Bye, Prefect.” Ruggie laughed.

Mirai hurried down the hall, looking for the grumpy lion, and after a couple of wrong turns, he was able to locate Leona due to the cursing and shouting coming from an open door at the end of the hall. Mirai peaked his head in and Mirai couldn’t see anything due to the lack of light, but with Leona’s lion-like nature, he walked into the pitch black closet like it was fully lit. Mirai held the door open as Leona moved farther and farther into the closet. But now that Mirai got a good look at it, it looked more like a bedroom than a storage closet with its size. The Prefect thinks he could recall Leona saying something about using their empty rooms for storage.

“Whaddya doin’? Get in here,” Leona called.

“And how am I supposed to see what we’re looking for when, one, I don’t know what it looks like, and two, I can’t see in the dark?” Mirai sassed.

“No one’s gonna know what you look like when I’m done with ya.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared.”

There was a crashing sound as Leona growled loudly, and suddenly Mirai was yanked into the closet by the front of his shirt, and slammed into the wall, the door closing behind them. Mirai grunted upon impact, a breathless chuckle spilling from his lips. It was pitch black in there, the only thing Mirai’s adjusting eyes could make out were Leona’s shining ones.

“You’re really testing my patience today,” Leona growled, their faces close, “keep it up and see what happens.”

“What did I do?!” Mirai said incredulously, “I asked a question and you threatened me! Now lemme go!”

“It’s the sass you keep giving me.”

“Sass?” Mirai asked, kicking his feet, suddenly realizing his feet were not touching the ground, “I’m spittin’ straight facts! I cannot see in the dark! What do you want me to do, grab the night vision goggles I conveniently keep in my back pocket for times like these?!”

“Say something else, I dare you! Sass me again and see what happens!”

Before Mirai realized it, he was already playing with fire, “Something else, I dare you. Sa-”

Leona growled, throwing the Prefect to the other wall, bringing an arm up, ready to strike.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mirai said hastily, throwing his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t mean that.” Mirai gasped as he dodged a hit, scrambling to his feet, shoving his way deeper in the makeshift storage closet.

“Okay then, I’m not gonna mean this either.” Leona seethed, throwing whatever was in his way of him beating the Prefect to a pulp.

Mirai dove to the floor with a screech as whatever Leona found shattered as it hit the wall, shards flying everywhere.

“Leona, w-wait! Stop,” Mirai gasped.

“Not happening,” Leona growled.

Mirai waved deeper and deeper, not even caring when he started to climb over things, boxes clattering to the floor, its contents clunking around inside. Mirai pushed his way past a wall of things and scrambled into a large open space. It was the rest of the room untouched by boxes and clutter. There was a decent sized window, but the tree outside it blocked out most of the light. In both corners there was a bed and wardrobe sitting against the wall, and lined against the back wall were two desks, and two small book cases.

“Get over here,” Leona seethed, knocking down the entire wall of boxes.

Mirai sucked in a breath as he scrambled across the room and Leona dashed after the Ramshackle Prefect, shoving him down onto one of the beds, a cloud of dust and dirt exploding around them.

“Get off me, Leona! Get off,” Mirai yelled over and over, guarding his face as Leona punched at him.

Mirai struggled against the Beastman, trying to push him off, but with all the dust in the air, his nose was burning and his eyes were watering. Leona growled, blind rage in his eyes as he threw a big hand in Mirai’s hair, and ripped the Prefect up. Mirai yelped, hands flying up to claw at the firm grip in his hair.

“Leon-” Mirai gasped, pleas were cut off as Leona’s fist came in contact with his face, a loud crack echoing throughout the room.

Not wanting another blow to the face, Mirai punched Leona in the jaw, the sound of the metal of his prosthetic coming in contact with skin and bone was sickening and loud. He really didn’t want to, but he knew he’d suffer more than he already was.

Leona dropped Mirai, coughing and groaning in pain, clutching his face, and Mirai took the chance to scramble up and out of Leona’s grasp.

“You little-get over here,” Leona roared, snatching at Mirai.

Leona raced after Mirai, grabbed the Prefect by the back of the shirt, Mirai yelped as he was sent toppling forward to the ground, his fingers clawing at the small carpet for leverage as Leona drug him across the floor. Leona flipped him over, grabbed him by the collar and socked him in the face twice more. Mirai grunted in pain as he swung his leg up as hard as he could, and kicked Leona in the stomach. Leona grunted and fell forward, clutching at his stomach, and for good measure, Mirai punched him twice more. Scrambling once again, Mirai ran in the direction of the door, and as Leona tried to grab him again, his grip slipped, a loud tearing sound echoing throughout the room.

Mirai pushed and shoved his way through the closet, throwing whatever he could lift at Leona as he made his way back to the door. He could hear Leona’s heavy angered panting from behind, as he chased after him. Mirai made it back to the door, shoving a bunch of boxes in his path and ripped at the door knob. It was stuck. Of course it was stuck!

Mirai panicked, jiggling the knob, and when he turned around, he was met with a pair of the most menacing green eyes he had ever seen. Mirai knew he was dead meat. Mirai tugged and tugged, twisting the knob but it wouldn’t budge.

“Open, open,” Mirai pleaded, heart pounding in terror.

“Oi, Leona, you stuck in the closet again?” Ruggie asked, laughing from the other side of the door, “I told ya ta fix that thing ages ago. Maybe this will be a lesson for ya to something around here for once.”

“Ruggie! Ruggie,” Mirai gasped, “O-Open the door! Open the door!”

“Mirai? What are you do-”

“Open the door,” Mirai screamed.

Leona yanked Mirai by the back of his collar, the front of his shirt strangling him, and with a growl, Leona leant down biting down on Mirai’s shoulder. Mirai’s mouth opened in a silent scream, as white hot pain flooded across his shoulder. Mirai thrashed as he tried to pry the Beastman off of him, fear increasing in his crest with the new thought of Leona being able to hurt him like his animal counterpart could. Leona finally released Mirai from his jaws, but his grip on him didn’t falter as he began shoving Mirai over and over into the door, and Mirai threw his hands out, blocking the impact from his face.

“What is happening there?!” another voice that Mirai couldn’t pinpoint at the moment, due to his struggle.

“I don’t know!”

Leona flipped Mirai over and before Leona could hit him again, Mirai punched him in the face twice. Mirai could feel a wetness on his fist but couldn’t tell if it was blood or not. Leona grunted at the punches but he didn’t even stagger as he began to whale on the Ramshackle Prefect. Mirai could smell the iron before he could feel the wet drip from his nose, and he could taste blood on his lip as he felt it split. Suddenly the door flew open, hitting Mirai in the back, and Mirai took that chance to kick Leona in the back of the knee, causing the lion man to fall to his knees. Mirai squeezed his way through the door, the bright lights of the hall blinding him as he made it out.

“Mirai, what happened?!” Ruggie yelled.

“Who’s in there?!” Jack yelled.

Mirai gasped as the closet door flew open, revealing as seething and equally battered Leona.

“Leona?!” the two yelled.

“Get back here,” Leona roared, lunging for Mirai once more.

Ruggie and Jack watched in horror as their Housewarden and the Ramshackle Prefect scrapped in the middle of the hallway like a pair of wild dogs. The two didn’t know what to say or do, their bodies stockstill like a Meerkat in the eyes of a hungry Hyena.

For every distasteful word Leona threw at Mirai, the Prefect spat out even harsher ones, for every hard blow Leona dealt, Mirai came back two more harder ones, neither of the two wanting to back down, the both of them wanting to come out on top.

And as the two fought, they began to draw a crowd, the other inhabitants of the dorm, gathering around to see what was going on. Ruggie snapped out of his shocked daze as he realized they were causing a scene, and at this point, he knew he needed to put a stop to this, lest he wanted word to get out that the Second Prince of the Sunset Savanna locked horns with the Magicless Prefect on school grounds.

“L-Leona! Tha-That’s, that’s enough,” Ruggie yelled, pulling at the back of Leona’s shirt, “Let him go!”

“You get the Prefect,” Jack instructed, “I’ll get Leona.”

Ruggie nodded and the two pulled the fighting pair apart.

“Let go of me,” Leona roared, thrashing in Jack’s hold.

“Sorry, Housewarden Leona, I cannot do that,” Jack apologized, even if he really didn’t mean it.

“Let go of me, you mutt! I swear, Jack! Put me down!”

Jack ignored him as he carted the angry lion off to his room, and while he was doing that, Ruggie was helping the Prefect off the ground, following the other two. Mirai grunted in pain as he limped after Jack, leaning on Ruggie for support.

As they walked off, Ruggie glared at the rest of his dormmates, growling, “Scram! All of you! Not a word is to be said about this!”

Upstairs, Jack all but threw his dorm head onto his bed, the Beastman bouncing across the mattress. Leona couldn’t even get a threat out, nor a complaint before Ruggie was yelling at him.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Ruggie yelled. “What is wrong with you?!”

Leona bared his teeth at Ruggie, a deep, menacing growl curling his lips. Ruggie was unfazed, his eyes still cold and steely. If he were anyone else, they’d have their tails between their legs, running for the hills, kicking up dirt in their wake.

“Do you know the weight of what you just did?!” Ruggie growled. “If word got out that you, Leona Kingscholar, got in a fight on campus, and bit another student, you’d be expelled on the spot! And that’s not even the worst of it! What would your family do if they found out?! What would they say?!”

“Who cares about what they say,” Leona growled.

“You should care, Leona! It won’t look good at all! And you know that! You know better than that! You’re smarter than that!”

Leona went silent, growling and muttering curses under his breath. Ruggie scoffed angrily and stalked off to get the first aid kit from the bathroom.

“With all due respect, Housewarden Leona,” Jack cut in, “I don’t think you know the full weight of what you have done.”

“Ion want any lip from ya, Jack,” Leona spat venomously, “You don-”

“Look at him, Leona,” Jack barked angrily.

The three of them jumped at how loud Jack’s voice got, not a single one of them used to Jack using that tone of voice. Leona begrudgingly looked at the Prefect on the far side of the room, and suddenly it clicked, it was like a bucket of ice cold water washed over him. Mirai had his back to him, but from here Leona could see the deep red ring of teeth on his left shoulder, the scratch marks that marred his right arm, and the already bruising marks that littered the Prefect’s honey colored skin.

Mirai avoided Leona’s gaze as he let Ruggie tend to his wounds, not entirely sure if he could hold himself back if he saw Leona right now. It stung where Ruggie cleaned the dried blood from his shoulder and arm, the bruises throbbed where Leona had grabbed him, punched him, and his nose hurt so bad, he had a headache.

“Can’t believe you, Leona,” Ruggie muttered. “So stupid.”

“Nah, don’t blame him too much,” Mirai chuckled, “I was the one badgering him.”

“That still doesn’t mean he should’ve beaten you like that.”

“Beaten? No, no, you make it seem like I lost. I won that fight.”

“No winner runs away like you did,” Leona gruffed from the other side of the room. “I won.”

“And no winner plays dirty like you did,” Mirai retorted. “And besides, you threw the first punch.”

“And I gave you a warning, don’t be mad that you don’t have the common sense to listen to it.”

“This is not the time to be arguing,” Jack scolded.

The two glared at each other and that lasted all but five seconds before the two burst into a fit of laughter. Jack and Ruggie looked as if the two had grown another head.

“What is the matter with you two?!” Ruggie shouted.

They both looked horrible, like they just got out of a street fight. They both were bruised and bloody, their clothes torn and dirty. But something about the whole situation was laughable.

“You throw a good punch, I’ll give ya that,” Leona smirked.

“You’re not the first person I’ve fought, and you definitely won't be the last,” Mirai chuckled.

“Well I’d prefer if this would be the last time you two never did this again,” Ruggie grumbled.

“Sorry Ruggie,” Mirai smiled. “Sorry Jack.”

Ruggie huffed.

“I’ll buy you a box of donuts.”

“Ruggie caved a little. “Maybe I’ll forgive you if you make it two.”

Mirai laughed, “Alright, it’s two. And what do you want, Jack.”

“O-Oh, uh, nothing,” Jack stammered, “Just don’t do that again.”

“Where’s my apology?” Leona grumbled, “You started this.”

“Well you bit me,” Mirai teased, “So you don’t get one.”

“Fair enough.”

The rest of the day went smoothly. Leona used a bit of magic to heal the majority of his wounds, and promptly lied down for a nap. Mirai was annoyed at that, since medical magic didn’t work on him, so now he had to wait for his injuries to heal by themselves with the help of bandages and painkillers. And after Ruggie and Jack finished making sure his injuries were taken care of, Mirai too promptly lied down for a nap.

Mirai woke up around dinner time, and with the help from Ruggie, the two of them made dinner for themselves and Leona. Leona ate in his room, alone, and Mirai ate with Ruggie and Jack in the lounge. It wasn’t as bad as Mirai thought. Yeah the guys of Savanaclaw were kinda scary, and yeah they didn’t like him, but they were a lively bunch to be around. All they did was joke around and roughhouse, it kinda reminded Mirai of a college frat house, sans the alcohol and the toxic atmosphere.

After dinner, Mirai went to check up on Leona. He wasn’t in his room, but he found his dirty dishes still on the desk, so he decided to bring those down to the kitchen. He found Ruggie in there, wiping down the counters.

Ruggie’s ears perked up as Mirai entered. “Hey, Prefect,” Ruggie smiled, “How’s it goin’?”

“Fine,” Mirai smiled, “just coming to wash these.”

Ruggies ears and head cocked in confusion, “Those Leona’s?”

“Yeah?”

“Leona made you do it?”

“Uh, no?” Mirai said, confused.

“Then why are you doing it? Make him do it.”

“It’s fine really. It’s just a couple dishes,” Mirai reasoned.

“Yeah, Leona can, wait, no, Ima do it. Give ‘em here.”

“Ruggie,” Mirai chided, “You’re already cleaning as it is. I can do it.”

“Yeah, I am, and you’re injured. That’s why I’ll do it.”

“Give it here, I’ll do it, now shut up.”

Mirai and Ruggie jumped as Leona spoke, walking over to Mirai, taking the dishes so he could wash them.

“I’ll dry,” Mirai said, not taking no for an answer.

Leona sighed, but didn’t say anything, and Mirai took that as a small victory. Leona washed the dishes quickly and thoroughly, and when he was done, Leona handed the dishes over for Mirai to dry. It was peaceful and therapeutic somehow, washing and drying.

Mirai was drying the last cup when soap was blown into his face. Mirai jumped, the glass fumbling in his hand. Mirai put the cup down, and glared at Leona, “Leona! I could’ve dropped that!”

Leona did it again, laughing as Mirai flinched. Mirai glared, swiping a handful of bubbles and blew them at Leona. Leona quickly stuck his hand in the sink and flicked some water at Mirai in retaliation.

Ruggie was sitting in the lounge when he heard the yelling. Sighing, thinking the Prefect and Leona were back at it again, Ruggie got up to see what the problem was this time. But what Ruggie was not expecting was finding Leona spraying Mirai with the sink hose, as the Ramshackle Prefect screamed a laugh, shielding himself by jumping behind the island counter. Ruggie didn’t know what to do as he watched the two run around the kitchen that was now dripping with water.

“What happened?”

Ruggie turned around and Jack and several other students were standing in the doorway behind him, all of them wearing the same shocked expression on their faces.

“I don’t know,” Ruggie said, as he walked off, “but I ain't not cleaning it up.”

Jack watched Ruggie walk off, then turned his gaze back to the kitchen. Jack stood there for a moment, then he chuckled to himself, walking off with a chuckle, “Leona can handle it.”

Mirai laughed as he slipped and slid on the wet floor as he tried to reach Leona, but every time he got too close, Leona would spray him.

“Stop it,” Mirai laughed, sputtering as Leona sprayed him in the face, “I-” Mirai gasped as he slipped backwards, falling to the floor.

“Oi,” Leona shouted, rushing over to Mirai.

Suddenly Leona was slipping and falling as well, landing on his stomach next to Mirai who was lying on his back. The two looked at each other and then suddenly, they were laughing, laughing until their stomachs hurt and their faces sore.

“Leona,” Mirai giggled, “you got water on the ceiling.”

Leona’s eyes shot up, and like the Prefect said, there was water dripping from the ceiling. And now that Leona got a good look at it, there was water everywhere.

“Eh,” Leona shrugged, “It’ll dry.”

Mirai laughed, “Ruggie’s gonna be mad.”

“He’ll live.”

“Leona,” Mirai chided.

“Fine,” Leona huffed, “I’ll dry it.”

“Good,” Mirai nodded, “You do that.”

Leona sat up, and looked down at the Prefect on the floor. Mirai was soaked, water making his clothes stick to him like a second skin. Mirai stared back at him. Leona was just as soaked as Mirai was, and for some reason, it was a good look on the lion. His hair was wet, the water accentuating the waves his hair normally had. His normally loose shirt stuck to his tanned skin, highlighting the muscle through his leather vest. Mirai flushed, turning his gaze away.

“Go shower,” Leona said, sticking out a hand.

“Mn,” Mirai nodded, taking it.

Leona pulled Mirai up with no effort, or with a little too much effort, sending the Ramshackle Prefect slipping on the wet floor and into his chest. Leona reached forward, wrapping an arm around Mirai’s waist to prevent him from falling.

“You good?” Leona asked, looking down at Mirai.

Mirai flushed red, and scrambled to stand, stammering, “Yeah, sorry.” Mirai took a step back, and teetering back and forth, nervously. “So yeah, uh, Ima go now.”

Leona raised an eyebrow at the weird behavior.

“Uh, bye,” Mirai said quickly, rushing out of the kitchen, slipping twice on the way out.

Mirai showered, internally chiding himself for whatever happened before he left. He scrubbed at his skin angrily, embarrassed at how he flushed like a lovesick puppy. Yeah he liked Leona, his crush worsening by the day, but he could normally school his emotions. He sighed, cringing at the recent memory.

When Mirai got out, Leona was laying on his bed, his ears twitching, face in his pillows.

“Guess I lost, huh?” Mirai more like stated as he plopped down next to Leona. “So go ahead, punch me.”

Leona shot up from where he was lying on the bed, “I aint punching someone who had the livin’ daylights beat outta them,”

“Which was you, by the way.”

“Which adds to my point. I aint punching you.”

“C’mon, a deal’s a deal,” Mirai remind. “Own up to it.”

“You make this sound like it’s the other way around,” Leona gruffed. “I aint adding salt to the wound.”

“Not salt. Think of it as zest.”

Leona scoffed, rolling his eyes as he got up to go to the bathroom.

“C’mon Leona,” Mirai called. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this world is that the weak obey the strong. So if not that, then what do you want instead.”

“You really find me that sadistic?” Leona asked, offended.

“Well, you did bite me.”

“Fine,” Leona said re-emerging from the bathroom, “You wanna know what I want? I want you to sit in that chair and take off your shirt.”

Mirai froze, his cheeks going red, as he stuttered miserably, “I-I-I-I don’t do those typa favors.”

“Typa-You idiot! I want you to take off your shirt so I can redo your bandages!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Leona scoffed with a sigh, “Sometimes I honestly think there isn’t a single thought process in that skull of yours.”

“There is too,” Mirai shouted, plopping down in the chair.

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself that.”

Mirai pouted as Leona began to redo his bandages. It was a weird feeling, having Leona tend to him like that. It’s not like Mirai saw that man as uncaring per se, but going off their past encounters, Mirai was pretty sure the Beastman hated him.

Leona was slow and careful, making sure he wasn’t too rough with what he was doing, but it was almost comforting, the feeling of his calloused heavy hands working. Suddenly, there was a sharp sting on Mirai’s shoulder, causing the blonde to shout a curse, almost flinching out of his seat.

Leona snorted a laugh, “Ya good?”

“Warn a guy next time,” Mirai yelled angrily.

“If I told ya, you’d tense up on me.”

Mirai scoffed and after a beat of silence, he spoke again, “Well, you seem to know your first aid.”

“What makes you say that?” Leona muttered absentmindedly.

“I can just tell. You’re methodical, you seem to have a way of doing things, like a certain process. But it’s not not like Riddle who has medical training.”

“Why look at you, all observant and what not,” Leona teased, “Looks like you just might have some lights on up there after all.”

Mirai flipped the Beastman off.

“Watch it, Herbivore,” Leona threatened playfully, “Like you said, I know my first aid. I could easily mess this up.”

Mirai rolled his eyes, “Don’t make threats you can’t ke-Ow! Ow! Ow!”

Leona guffawed.

“Why’s that gotta burn so much,” Mirai whimpered, eyes watering.

“Get over it,” Leona huffed. “And I’m done.”

“Thanks,” Mirai muttered, standing to find his shirt.

Mirai made his way to the couch where he promptly got comfortable, but what he didn’t see was the way Leona stared at his retreating form, a look that Leona himself could name. And definitely didn’t like that way it made him feel either.

Sunday came around smoothly. That morning, Mirai woke Leona up by clanking a couple of pans together, sending Leona scurrying off his bed, much to Leona’s chagrin, and his dorm member’s amusement. Work went smoothly, no unruly Savanaclaw students giving him or Sam a hard time, although Sam really wanted to march over to the Savanaclaw Dorm and give Leona what for. Back at Ramshackle, Grim was fine, the dorm was in one piece, the cat living the dream with the food Mirai gifted him for his efforts.

Mirai made his way to the Savanaclaw dorm, and once he passed through the mirror, the Prefect was met with strong winds, heavy rain falling from the sky, and bitter cold temperatures. And unfortunately for Mirai, rain meant cranky Beastmen. Inside it was cool, and the Beastmen were bored. Those who felt like it, left the dorm for the warmer, and drier temperature on campus, and the others either retired to their rooms, not really caring for the dreary weather. But there was a good number of students who let the weather control their emotions, making them irritable, a hair trigger away from lashing out on each other.

But for the rest of the day, it was uneventful for Mirai. Leona didn’t ask Mirai once for anything, no matter how small it was. But, Leona was everywhere, doing his Housewarden duties. Mirai never saw Leona so serious outside of the Spelldrive club. He was doing the paperwork like he was supposed to, he broke up several fights, gave some orders, and listened when Ruggie told him to do something. When Mirai saw all of this, it made him wonder what it was like to actually have a dorm with some actual members to look after. His dorm was the size of a townhome, and it's only occupants, besides himself, were three ghosts who showed up when they wanted and a cat. But from what Mirai could tell, it was hard work. A shout broke Mirai from his thoughts, Mirai quickly rushing over to see what happened.

In the entryway, Ruggie and Jack were scrambling to pick up a busted bag of groceries, its contents blowing away in the wind and rain. Mirai quickly rushed out to help as cans, bags, and boxes blew around. When they finally caught it all, the three were soaked to the bone.

“Please,” Mirai whined, “I don't wanna be wet anymore.”

Ruggie laughed, bushing his wet hair out of his face.

“You didn’t have to help,” Jack said, wringing out his shirt. “Especially with you being hurt and all.”

“But I wanted to,” Mirai said as he helped store away the food.

“Didn’t have to though.”

“I know, Jack, it’s okay.”

“Alright,” Ruggie said, putting the last of the food away, “Ima go shower.”

“Same,” Jack said. “Make sure you warm up too Mirai.”

“Mn,” Mirai nodded.

Mirai found Leona in his room, tail swishing agitatedly as he lay on his bed.

“You’re wet,” Leona gruffed quietly.

“Oh,” Mirai said sarcastically, looking down at his water laden clothes, “I didn’t notice.”

Leona huffed a laugh, closing his eyes again.

“Uh, Leona?”

“Hm?”

“Do you happen to have any clothes I could borrow?” Mirai asked quietly, “Mine are wet.”

Leona turned his torso around, looking upside down at the Prefect who was digging through his bag. With a sigh, Leona got up, dragging his feet as he opened his closet.

“Here,” Leona said, handing over the clothes, “I’ll have Ruggie throw your’s in the wash with mine.”

“Thanks for the clothes, but no thanks for the wash, I can do that just fine” Mirai said, heading to the bathroom.

After Mirai showered, he looked at himself in the mirror after he changed. The orange lounge shirt was too big, swallowing him up, coming down to his thighs, the loose collar hanging off his shoulder. The sweatpants were too long and baggy, the legs pooling at his feet, and Mirai had to roll them six times before they would stay up by themselves. But on the bright side, it was dry and it smelt like Leona.

“Leona,” Mirai whined, coming out of the bathroom, holding his pant legs like a princess holding her dress, “it’s too big.”

Leona looked up from his phone and stared. Leona looked the Prefect over, eyes honing in on the slightly flushed skin of Mirai’s freckled shoulder and chest, the long exposed column of his neck, and the damp hair that was pushed back out of his face that exposed his scarred face. Mirai sat down on the sofa, trying hard to dry his hair with one arm. Leona got up and went to the bathroom grabbing his cordless hair dryer.

“Sit, Herbivore,” Leona commanded, pulling out the chair next to his bed.

Mirai looked up, noticing the hair dryer in his hand, and got up and sat down.

The hair drier whirled to life, the sound muted and soothing. Leona softly carded his fingers through the Prefect’s hair, methodically drying his hair, making sure there wasn’t a spot left untouched. Mirai didn’t know what to do with his hand, so he clutched onto the fabric of his pants. The very fact that Leona was currently doing for Mirai warmed his heart, and his cheeks. It wasn’t too rough or too soft, the heat of the dryer lulling him into a relaxed state.

“You’re done,” Leona muttered, switching the dryer off.

“Thanks,” Mirai yawned, reaching his hand up to feel.

“Get some sleep,” Leona said, gathering his things for a shower.

“Mn,” Mirai hummed, grabbing his blanket and pillow for the night.

Leona stepped out of the bathroom and the rain was still pouring. At this point all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Leona shut off the bathroom light and fell face first into bed, groaning in relief.

“It’s gonna be all tangled and matted if you don’t dry it properly,” Mirai mumbled from where he was lying on the couch, messing around on his phone.

Leona made a noise, but didn’t move.

Mirai sighed, getting up, “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” Leona gruffed.

“The hair dryer.”

“Don’t need it.”

Mirai huffed and stalked into the bathroom. After a couple of seconds, Mirai marched out, dryer in one hand, brush in the other.

“Up,” Mirai said.

Leona groaned, “Fine. Give here.”

Mirai handed it over triumphantly, watching Leona begin to dry and brush his hair.

“So Leona,” Mirai said in a teasing tone.

“Is it something that might get you in trouble?” Leona gruffed, before Mirai could say anything else.

“Maybe,” Mirai sang, “Maybe not.”

Leona huffed a laugh.

“Well,” Mirai teased, laughing, “I technically survived the weekend with the Great Leona Kingscholar of Savanaclaw.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I need something to remember this moment for the rest of my time here.”

“And why’s that?” Leona gruffed.

“Well, it’s not everyday that I beat you in something,” Mirai smirked.

“How about another punch in the mouth?”

“I get to punch you in the mouth?” Mirai smirked.

Leona growled, “You're testing my patience, Herbivore.”

“When am I not?”

“Prefect,” Leona warned.

“Yes?” Mirai sang.

“You have three seconds to shut up,” Leona growled.

“Or what? What’s the big bad lion gonna do about it?”

In a flash, Leona was up, lunging for the Prefect. Mirai shouted, running from Leona.

“You never know when to shut up do you?” Leona growled, “Then you wanna run when you’re about to get beat.”

Mirai stuck out his tongue, running to the other side of the bed.

They ran back and forth, Leona surprised with how much control the Prefect had, even with one arm, and pant legs that were too long. Leona lunged across the bed, and Mirai shouted, jumping over the couch, and into the bathroom, slipping over his pant legs all the while. Leona followed, chasing Mirai around the tub, and out the door. Leona sprinted across the room, pouncing on Mirai, shoving him down. Mirai gasped, flushing as Leona pinned him down with his body.

“I win,” Leona growled, a little too proud for winning their little mediocre chase.

Mirai laughed, “Okay, okay, you win. Now get off, you’re heavy.”

“You need more muscle. C’mon, push me off.”

“I can’t, you oaf. I got one arm.”

Leona sat up and looked down. Yeah, he may have forgotten about that.

Mirai cackled at the surprised look on the lion’s face.

“Spar with me after classes then,” Leona said, rolling over to let the Prefect up. “I wanna see what you can do.”

“It’s not much, I can tell ya that much,” Mirai chuckled.

“Leona,” came Ruggie’s distant voice.

“What?!” Leona shouted.

There was no answer.

Leona waited and then sighed with a grumble, “I know that little money monger and hear me. I’ll be back, but get some rest. I don’t wanna hear your yappin’ about being tired tomorrow.”

“Ya sure you’re not talkin’ about yourself?” Mirai asked with a raised eyebrow.

Leona flicked Mirai on the forehead, the dull noise echoing through the blonde’s skull.

“Ow,” Mirai shouted, holding his head.

“Don’t sass me,” Leona laughed, “now get some sleep.”

“Find,” Mirai muttered, sulking off to the couch. “Night.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't let the spiders bite and all that jazz.”

Mirai snorted a laugh, lying down for the night, and now that he was, he realized how tired he really was. Leona stared for a moment, again that weird feeling coming back to mess with his head.

“Leona,” Ruggie shouted.

Well, whatever it was, he hoped it would go away soon.

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 4 | You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly is making friends and life is settling into a routine until Molly gets sick and Tom takes care of her.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Molly left that afternoon with two new numbers in her phone and a lunch date for next week.

“Can’t believe you are having lunch with my mother and sister without me.” Tom pouted on the way back.

“Once they heard I wasn’t working and didn’t know anyone, they insisted. Was I supposed to say no?”

“You could have scheduled it when I could come.”

“But you are so busy. And talented.” She poked his side.

“I’m driving here, darling.”

“Sorry, but just one question…” They pulled up to a red light.”

“What?”

“Are you ticklish?” she attacked his side and Tom squirmed and giggled.

“You will be the death of me.” He panted as Molly stopped when the light was green.

“Note to self. Tom is very ticklish.”

“No, no notes to self. That is something you can promptly forget.”

Molly batted her eyelashes. “But real husbands and wives would know these things about each other. We have to pull this off for an entire year, right?”

“Fine, but expect revenge.” Tom wagged a finger at Molly.

“I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

Over the next several weeks, Tom and Molly fell in a routine. The marriage certificate came in the mail and they applied for a family visa for Molly to stay there.

“I didn’t think you would want to become a citizen.”

Molly smirked. “No, not right now.”

A new debit card came in for Molly.

“With great power…” Tom handed it over.

“Yeah, yeah, Loki.” she tucked into her wallet. “I am burdened with glorious purpose. To keep you well fed.”

Molly had a standing date with Emma every two weeks, much to Tom’s consternation. They continued running together in the mornings. Tom, more often than not, ended it with a kiss.

“This is becoming quite the nasty habit, Mr. Hiddleston.” she commented one morning.

“Then stop me, Mrs. Hiddleston.” He pecked her lips again.

Molly blushed. “You just love what they are saying about us in the papers.” She pushed Tom away and towards the door.

“I will admit the good news is definitely a perk. Plus, you are such lovely company.” He went to hug her, but she pushed him away.

“You are all sweaty, Tom. Take a shower and I will make breakfast.”

“French toast?” he asked hopefully.

“You ate the last of the bread yesterday.”

“Pancakes?”

“I think I can swing pancakes, if…” She held up a finger. “You also eat a side of fruit.”

“Deal.” Tom headed towards his room wearing a huge grin.

Molly shook her head as she grabbed a mixing bowl out. “Lunatic.”

One morning, Molly wasn’t awake when Tom got up to run. She almost always beat Tom up, sipping a cup of tea in the living room, reading a magazine or one of the books from his shelf. There was a small stack building on a side table of the ones she finished reading. But that morning, no half-drunk cup of tea perched precariously on the coffee table. No crossword puzzle half done in pen.

Tom peaked into Molly’s bedroom. The covers, in colors of navy and grey, just like his, pulled up tight around her. There were a few prints of classic travel posters on the wall.

“Molly, darling.” He called out. Usually that was all it took to roust Molly from her sleep and get her going for the day. Today, nothing. Tom stepped into the room. He felt like an intruder in his own home.

“It’s time for our run, love.” He said a bit louder this time.

Molly rolled over, groaning and coughing. Tom’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that cough. Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and rocked Molly gently by the shoulder.

“Are you feeling okay, darling?” He hoped it was just allergies or waking up in the morning. But then she woke up.

“Uggh, Tom?” Molly croaked out before rolling onto her back. She was pale. So much more pale than usual. She coughed again, covering her mouth.

“It’s me, Molly. Are you feeling alright?” He repeated. “That’s some cough.”

“I’m fine, fine. It’s just,” She waved him off and pushed up to sitting, only to fall back onto the pillows. “oh, that’s not good.”

Tom placed the back of his hand to her forehead and replaced it with his lips, checking her temperature. She was running hot.

“You have a fever. I’m making you an appointment to see the doctor.” He stood, but Molly caught his wrist. Her palm clammy against Tom’s skin.

“No! It’s just a cold. Go on your run. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.” She insisted.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Tom leaned down and kissed her very warm forehead. “I’ll keep it short. Go back to sleep.”

Molly nodded and rolled over. Tom tucked the covers around her and headed out. He barely made it to the end of the street before he returned home. It confirmed his fears when he stepped back inside and heard Molly coughing. Tom grabbed the phone and searched for a number and called it.

“Yes, Urgent Care? Do you have any appointments today? Name? Molly Hiddleston. Thank you.”

Tom helped Molly get dressed, averting his eyes when appropriate. Her entire body burned under his fingertips, but Tom noticed her shivering. She stumbled to the car where she slept the entire ride over to urgent care. Tom did his best to fill out the paperwork.

“What do you put for family history?”

“Nothing. Unless there is a place for mental illness, then check that. That’s all I know about. Mom didn’t chat much.” Molly muttered, leaning heavily against Tom. “Meth does that…” Her brow furrowed and she coughed again.

“Shh, darling.” Tom soothed her. “Only happy thoughts.”

Molly hummed and smiled. “Happy thoughts.” More coughing.

It took twenty minutes before they called Molly back. They didn’t let Tom back with her. He alternated between sitting with a bouncing knee, pretending to read on his phone and pacing the waiting room, making the other people nervous. After forty-five minutes, before Molly returned with several papers in her hand. She coughed again.

“Upper respiratory infection,” cough. “Along with a sinus infection and a viral infection.”

Tom smiled. “Triple threat. Let’s get you home.”

Molly’s hand, holding the papers, flopped up. “I have prescriptions and they want to see me again in two weeks. To make sure I don’t get pneumonia.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “That’s a possibility?”

Molly nodded. “It’s all in here.”

Tom took all the papers, skimming them, including a script for antibiotics as well as a cough suppressant. It all sounded grim. “Let’s get you to bed and I will take care of getting these filled.”

Molly coughed and nodded. “Thank you.”

She fell back asleep in the car. Tom carried into the house, not having the heart to wake her up again, and settled her into his bed, which was bigger, more comfortable and the bathroom was right there. Once she was settled and asleep, he headed off to the pharmacy. While waiting in line, Tom dialed Luke.

“Luke, is there anything absolutely pressing in the schedule for the next three days?” he asked after Luke picked up.

“Nothing I can’t reschedule, why?”

“Molly’s ill.” He bit his lips and sighed. “The doctors are afraid it might turn into pneumonia. And I…”

“Consider your schedule cleared until Monday. And tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Thanks, Luke. I’m worried about her.”

“That’s because you love her, Tom. You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.” Luke chuckled.

Tom paused at Luke’s words but pushed it away. Of course he cared for Molly. That has the tendency to happen when you live with a person for nearly three months. Especially someone as congenial as Molly. Congenial wasn’t the word. Lovely. Molly was lovely. He laughed it off. “I worry about you too, Luke. I got to go.”

“Take care of her. Bye, Tom.”

After picking you the medicine, Tom popped into the grocery store and picked up some soup, drinks, and Molly’s favorite cookies. When he got back, she was still asleep. And still coughing. He put away the groceries and then checked on her.

“Darling, I’m back with the medicine. Time to take it.” He helped her sit up, Molly groaning the entire time. She swallowed the pill with a sip of water, gagging.

“That’s awful!” she coughed.

“Now the cough medicine.” Tom poured out the cough syrup and handed it over to Molly. She hesitated, sniffing it first. “Take the medicine and get a biscuit.” He held up a package of cookies.

“They’re cookies. I thought I ate the last of them.” she moaned, downing the cough syrup. Her face contorted. Tom smiled and handed her two cookies. “Good girl. Now rest. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

“Don’t you have work?” Molly muttered as she laid back down. Tom pulled the covers over her, putting the cookies on the nightstand. “You had… interviews… or something…”

“My schedule is clear through the weekend. I am at your disposal.” Tom rubbed Molly’s back, and she purred.

“You don’t need to do that.” She half-heartedly complained, dozing off.

“And leave you to fend for yourself? What kind of husband would I be? It was no trouble. Now sleep, darling.”

“Mmm… kay.”

Tom busied himself with absolutely nothing. He flitted from reading a book to watching a TV show to peeking into the bedroom. At one point, when Molly was particularly quiet, he seriously contemplated putting a mirror under her nose to just make sure he was still breathing. He managed to get her to eat half a bowl of soup.

“You need to eat, love.” he scolded.

Molly coughed and croaked. “Says the man who considers chocolate a food group.”

“Look at that, some humour.” Tom smiled. “Eat please.”

“Yes, sir.” She slurped the soup off the spoon before falling back asleep.

Tom, worried, did the unthinkable. He called his mum for advice.

“She’s coughing. A lot. And all she does is sleep.” Tom ran his hands through his hair.

“Is she eating, love?” Diana asked. Tom could feel the smile across the phone.

“A bit, but not as much as usual. I brought her soup.”

“Soup is good. And she is taking her medicine?”

Tom nodded. “I set a timer.”

“Of course you did. And the fever?”

Tom blinked. “What about her fever?”

“Has it broken?”

“I don’t—”

“Tom!” Molly’s bedraggled voice called out.

“I gotta go. She needs me.” Tom hung up the phone and sprinted to the room.

“Molly! What is it?” He noted she was shivering.

“I’m cold.” she chattered. Tom grabbed the blanket at the foot of his bed.

“Is that better?” He tucked it under Molly’s chin. Tom touched her forehead. Hot.

“Much.”

“I’ll let you rest.” He patted her shoulder and stood. Molly reached out for him.

“Stay.” She coughed. “At least until I fall asleep. Please lie down. Just five minutes.”

Tom’s heart broke in that moment for Molly. That confident woman he grew so fond of seemed so small in that moment.

“Of course, I’ll stay. Anything for you.” Tom crawled on top of the covers next to Molly. He laced his fingers in hers. He heard her exhaled, and he exhaled too.

“Sleep well, darling.” But Molly had already fallen asleep. Tom soon followed.

Molly woke the next morning in sweat soaked pajamas and on top of drenched sheets. She still coughed, but her fever was gone. As she blinked her eyes open, Molly realized she wasn’t in her bed, but Tom’s. And Tom was there too. Asleep next to her, fully dressed, holding her hand. She had vague memories of Tom bringing her soup and her asking him to stay. And some very not safe for work dreams.

“Fever dreams.” she muttered. “Tom…” Molly rocked his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tom sat up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“It’s hard to be a nurse. I think your sheets may need washing.” she smiled.

Tom pressed his lips to her forehead. “No fever.” His spirits lifted.

“It must have broken last night.”

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Tom noticed their hands still laced together. He let go and stood up. He made a poor attempt at smoothing out his sleep wrinkled clothes. “Up to move to the couch? And maybe some movies?”

“I would like that.” She slowly sat up and got out of bed. “But first a shower.”

Tom frowned. “First medicine, then shower.”

“Nurse Ratched.” Tom didn’t smile or budge. Molly sighed. “Fine, medicine, the shower.”

Tom grabbed the bottles and dispensed the medicine, which she took still gagging. “And a biscuit.” He handed her a cookie.

“Cookie.” She popped it into her mouth and headed off to her room and Tom went to his own bathroom.

Once they were both showered and dressed, Tom popped his sheets into the laundry and made a makeshift bed on the couch for Molly.

“You pick the movie.” she offered. “That way if I fall asleep, you won’t be bored.”

Tom picked The Jungle Book. “One of my favorites as a child. I still watch it when I feel under the weather.”

“I don’t think I have seen it.”

Tom’s mouth fell open. “That is a travesty.”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “You know, group homes, foster care…”

Tom stopped. “Well, we are going to watch this right now and you can listen to the vocal genius that is George Sanders as Shere Khan.”

“More of a vocal genius than you?” Molly raised an eyebrow while she settled onto the couch.

Tom blushed. “A man-cub, how delightful.” He purred deep in his chest, sending shivers through Molly.

By the end of the movie, Molly’s head was in Tom’s lap and his hand in hers. They watched Disney movies for the rest of day, alternating picking the title. Tom made sure she took her meds on time and ate more than just cookies.

“I will eat a meal if you do.” Molly chided.

They both ate soup and Tom also ate a sandwich. It was late when they finished up Robin Hood. Molly stretched and sat up.

“I should go to bed.”

“I can put the sheets back on the bed.” Tom moved, but she stopped him, squeezing his hand.

“My bed. But I will keep the door open so you can spy on me.” She smirked. “I can’t take your bed again.”

“It’s fine if you did. I don’t mind sharing.”

“I know but…” She glanced away. “We should keep our own space. To keep things from getting complicated.”

Tom nodded. “Right. No complications here.” he lied to her and to himself.

Molly hugged Tom tight. “Thank you for everything, Tom.”

“My pleasure.”

She coughed a bit as she headed off to her room. Tom turned off the TV and cleaned the dishes before going to bed himself. He spent most of the night tossing and turning.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #accidently married

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Oh Honey Honey ('Oh Sugar Sugar' Part 2) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Synopsis: The newest regular to frequent your little pastry shop is a little unusual, but his appreciation of your craft is a welcome distraction from the terrifying suspicion that you may have a stalker.

notes: yandere, stalker behavior

You waved cheerfully at a little boy through the glass window of your store, as his grandfather gently urged him along the street; he was maybe 2 or 3, and had practically shrieked in joy when his grandfather bought him the biggest, cutest looking cupcake you'd had in the display that morning.

With the store empty for the moment, you turned back to your daily specialty case and decided to give it a quick cleaning. A regular, the older gentlemen who'd recently revealed that all the treats were actually for an associate, was due to arrive soon, and he typically bought up most of your special case. You leaned over the front counter, grabbed a rag and a bottle of cleaning solution, and gave the glass a quick spritz. You were humming to yourself when you heard the door bells jingling.

You turned, smile ready, expecting the older gentlemen--and almost flinched in surprise. It was not your regular, but someone new. He had lanky dark hair and wore an unassuming, casual outfit consisting of a white shirt and jeans.

You swiftly stepped behind the register. “Can I help you today, sir?”

"Yes, in fact," the man said. "I'm here to give my compliments in person."

Confusion must have registered on your face, for he continued. "I normally have an associate buy my pastries for me. But I wanted to see your shop for myself, so..."

"Oh!"

You hadn't meant to say it out loud, but you couldn't help it; nor could you help the more genuine smile that you gave the man who'd bought hundreds of dollars worth of pastries in such a short time period. Baking was your passion--but it was your business, too, and you couldn't help but truly appreciate people who supported that business. "I'm so glad to finally meet you! Thank you for all your business."

You held out your hand jovially, and the man came forward to accept it with a low, firm and slightly awkward handshake. When he pulled away, he glanced at his hand for a moment, before returning his gaze back to you. You couldn't help but hope he was getting enough sleep.

"I should be thanking you," he said. "For all the pastries, I mean."

At that, you beamed. "Well! Let me show you what's in our special case today..."

You had a stalker. Well, maybe you had a stalker. You weren't quite sure. All you knew for sure was that something was... off, lately. At first, you attributed it to getting less sleep than normal. With your bakery busier than ever, thanks to your new regular and even a nice business contract supply 2 dozen breakfast muffins every morning, you weren't getting as much sleep.

So it would only be normal, you thought, to be a little on edge. A little testy. But less sleep didn't account for the odd, creeping feeling that you were being watched, especially at night. You could have swore you heard strange sounds, too... whirring or clicks. Cameras? You didn't know.

Nor did a lack of sleep account for some things that had gone missing from your apartment. A favorite nightgown you liked to sleep in; a favorite mug. the berry-red one you’d gotten two Christmases ago; even, as you discovered one morning, a lingerie set that you'd tried on once and then been too embarrassed to wear again. Still, it was expensive and the thought that someone had taken it--and why someone would take it--made you feel sick.

To say that you were not your usual chipper self for the rest of the morning was an understatement. You did your best to smile for the customers that came in, but even they must have sensed something was wrong; you even got extra tips from a regular, an elderly woman who tut-tutted you and told you that you should consider taking a weekend off.

The thought was tempting, but you knew that with running a small business came sacrifices--including the inability to just "take off." Still, you thought, you could take a little nap. A short one, 25 minutes, tops. You didn't often temporarily close up shop for breaks, but it was quiet and you weren't likely to get too many sales before the lunch rush, anyway.

As you were about to flip the sign, however, a figure suddenly walked up to the door. You jumped, then internally scolded yourself for being ridiculous--it was just your regular, or "Ahh, Mr. Regular?," as he'd awkwardly suggested you call him when you’d asked for his name. It was odd, but, the man was also downing an exceptional amount of sugar while buying up entire cases worth of your goods on the regular, so it wasn't your place to judge.

You bit your cheek to suppress a sigh of frustration and opened the door, stepping back so he could come in.

"Oh," he said, "are you closing?"

You smiled, or tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything resembling your typical sweet countenance. "No, no, I was just going to close up for a nap... I mean a break." You shook your head. You shouldn't bother customers with talks about naps, it probably made you sound lazy.

He quirked his head slightly, staring at you almost intensely. "Yes..." he said softly, almost murmuring. "I see those circles under your eyes... you haven't been sleeping well."

The personal turn of the conversation made you feel awkward. You looked away, embarrassed. You hated the idea of customers seeing you as anything other than the cheery pastry shop lady, a source of sugar and sweetness and delicious goodies. "Um," you said, "I guess not, I've just been a little, you know--out of it. You know how things go."

You laughed, mirthless and empty, and gestured towards the case. "So, anyway. I actually don't have many special pastries today, I've been a little busy." You mentally slapped yourself for giving excuses, even bland ones, though it wasn't like you were lying.

You'd woken up early so you could head into work and finish off some really nice specialty items you'd baked last night, but rummaging around your drawers for something to wear led you to realize the lingerie was missing, and you'd spent 2 hours drifting between panic and disgust.

But rather than walk towards the case and pick out today's purchases, your regular simply stood in front of you. Head slightly quirked still, eyes expressive--concerned, you thought, he looks concerned about me.

You couldn't deny that a customer worrying about you brought up conflicting emotions; frustration, because you didn't want to mess with your public persona; and a warm mixture of comfort and flattery. Someone liked your pastries enough to care about you.

"Is everything all right?" He said, finally. "Are you feeling sick? Or is something else keeping you up?"

You stared, feeling lost for words. You didn't really know him, and you hadn’t even told your friends about your potential stalker. But the weight of the past few weeks, the build-up of fear and disgust and stress, seemed to push you down until you found yourself sliding into one of your cafe chairs. He followed suit, pulling his knees up until he practically crouched on the seat.

You hesitated. Should you really be telling him any of this? “I… don’t want to bother you with any of my personal problems.”

“It’s not bothering me. I’m curious,” he said, lightly.

You sighed. Here goes, you thought. “I… I have a stalker?” Your hesitancy quickly morphed into an awkward blurting. “I mean, I think I do. I’m not sure. It’s just the past few weeks. I keep hearing these weird noises. And I feel like I’m being watched.” You bit your lip. “And someone took my underpants?”

Actually vocalizing the thought made you realize that it could just all be in your head. I mean, whirring noises? Missing lingerie? Maybe there were ants in the walls and you’d donated the set and forgot about it.

You half expected him to look embarrassed and give an excuse to leave. But instead, he looked thoughtfully at you. “Hmm. Have you called the police?”

It was you who felt embarrassed now. “No…” You shrugged. “I mean, what can they do, anyway? I don’t have any proof.”

He regarded you with a grim nod. “That’s true. They won’t act without evidence.” He gave a little huffy sigh of his own. “Well… if it were up to me, I’d do a stake out. See if anyone comes into your place at night. I could get some equipment, if you want.”

You smiled--subtle and soft, but a genuine smile. At least he didn’t think you were crazy. At least he validated your feelings. And he’d offered to help, even if you would never feel comfortable taking him up on that offer.

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But maybe I’m just being paranoid. I don’t want to drag you into all this…” You sat up straighter and decided to change the subject--you’d had enough worrying about a stalker for one day. “Say, do you want to see the kitchen? I need to finish up a cake I started last night, for the special case. Maybe you can pick out the fruit toppings?”

For a moment, your regular looked shocked. He nodded, slowly. His expression never quite fully recovered its normal neutrality, and he stood up almost cautiously before following your lead into the open kitchen door accessed from behind the counter.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say lightly. “I didn’t have time to start dishes yet.” You gestured towards a countertop where a small cake stuffed with mascarpone and nestled within a layer of marzipan sat. There were little dollops of cream forming a circle on the top of the cake. “I’m going to top it with some fruits, why don’t you pick out which ones you like?” You covered your mouth, suddenly. “I mean--if you want to buy it, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He cleared his throat and a small smile flickered across his lips. “Of course I’ll buy it. Your cakes are delicious.”

You laughed a little, showing your teeth, and took out some little jars of fresh fruits from a small fridge underneath the counter. As he looked over them, you turned and began tossing a few empty pots, pans and stirrers into the sink so that they could soak. You couldn’t help but hum a little, used to singing while you clean.

“Yes, I’ve decided,” he said suddenly. You turned around and saw him staring right at you.

“Decided?” You asked. Something about the way he was looking at you felt familiar. You thought about whirring.

“On strawberries,” he replied. He slowly held up the bowl of freshly cut, ripe red berries. “For my cake.”

L sat, crouched on the couch, staring at the video he’d taken of today’s events. You confided in him, which was delightful. You’d smiled at him, which was even better. Watching you put the glorious finishing touches on a scrumptious pastry in the kitchen was just... well. Icing on the cake.

He pressed a button on the controller and rewound the video to the moment where you'd laughed, light and airy and perfectly melodious to his ears. Your smile was genuine, then--not the constrained smile you'd given when he'd interrupted your nap plans; nor was it the sometimes plastic smile you wore when you were clearly exhausted with giving endlessly bright customer service.

Your real smile was something to be treasured. Especially, he thought to himself, because it will be a long while before he sees it again. You won’t be smiling much after he kidnaps you--after he acquires you, he corrected himself.

According to his calculations, you won't start feeling more accepting of your situation for at least a few months, but it may be sooner (or later) depending on certain variables. You will be scared first, he knew--scared and maybe angry with him for deceiving you and trapping you. And that wouldn’t be very conducive to the smile and laughter he’d quickly become addicted to taking in.

He lifted up your favorite mug and took a sip of the warm coffee inside, relishing the last bits of your lipstick left on the rim, before rewinding the video to watch you again. Time will heal your wounds--but in the mean time, he will be so very generous and patient with you.

#yandere death note #yandere #yandere l lawliet #death note #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #can you guess the name of part 3

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

-------------------------------------------------

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

---------------------------------------

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

-------------------------------------------------

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

------------------------------------------------------

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugy

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Static Shock: Shock to the System and Aftershock Review

“You know what? 13 years ago, me and some friends sat in a restaurant all night and daydreamed about the kinds of stories we would tell if we had the chance. We wanted to expand the concept of superhero to include characters that kind of looked like us, who had some of the same background, experiences and dreams as we did. We wanted to create something fun that a new generation would respond to the same way we responded to our childhood heroes -and damn if we didn't succeed beyond my wildest dreams. Today, Static Shock is a household name with millions of fans of all ages (Is there stuff I'd do differently? Yeah, almost all of season four but why nitpick?) Static is the most successful thing I've ever helped create and I'm both proud and gratified that people have taken it into their hearts. “

Dwayne McDuffie, Co-Creator of Static and Writer for Static Shock

This review is dedicated to Dwayne McDuffie and Robert L. Washington III. Rest In Power Static Shock is awesome. I grew up with the show watching it both first run on the WB and second run on Cartoon Network and loved it as much as I did other large parts of my childhood courtsey of DC like Batman the Animated Series, Teen Titans and both Justice League Shows. What makes this unique among the DC Properties is that Static wasn’t really a big name when he got a show. He wasn’t even part of the DC Universe.

See as I had no idea for probably a good decade, Static actually came from Milestone Comics, a company ran by and focused on african americans. The goal was understandable: While black heroes existed at the time, and there were some fantastic ones like Storm, Jim Rhodes and Steel... these guys weren’t the center of their universes. The big faces of the big companies, Spider-Man, Wolverine, Hulk, Iron Man, Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash.. were white. So milestone was a shakeup of that with the main teams and heroes all being black, from Icon, an alien who’d lived among man but rather than end up in kansas like say superman ended up imprinting on a slave woman centuries ago and has been with us since, who was encouraged by an energetic teenager named Rocket to put on a costume and do something with his powers and his community, Hardware, a tech genius who had his work stolen by a white asshole and wanted to fight back and BLood Syndicate, a group of gang members all caught in the “The Big Bang”, a huge fight between all of Dakota, the midwest city where the comics take place, that ended when the police released a bunch of experimental gas that gave them all super powers.

As most of you who have watched the show already know, this is where Static comes from. Static was the company making their own Spider-Man, i.e. a nerdy teenager who suddenly gets super powers, in this case Virgil Hawkins who at the prodding of a friend took a gun to The Big Bang to get revenge on a bully. .but ultimately couldn’t go through with it, decided it wasn’t him and got rid of the gun and ran.. and still ended up in it, becoming Static, a young hero dedicated to using his powers to fight other “Bang Babies”.. a term that dosen’t really sound that great and they really should’ve thought through. But Phrasing aside the character was great and I look forward to reading more and only haven’t because I have to buy the issues gradually, but DC is currently re-releasing the individual issues of Static, Icon, and Hardware weekly in anticipation of a reboot of Milestone Coming in May digitally on Comixology at only 2 bucks a pop, and rereleased the original print collections that were long out of print for 10 bucks each, though i’m getting static on it’s own since i’ts really not that much less expensive as it only collects four issues while Icon and Hardware both collect 8, so I can wait a bit there on Hardware and already own Icon: A Hero’s Welcome.. and really need to review it at some point.

While Milestone’s output was good, at least from the two books i’ve read, with Robert Washinton III, who sadly not only ahs also passed but was fucking homeless for a while in the 2000′s.. what the actual hell, writing Static alongside Dwayne McDuffie, whose later moved onto animation writing tons of Static episodes all of them classics including the school shooting episode, the first three rubberbandman episodes and both Anasazi episodes. Point is it had good writers and artists and even had a distrbution deal with DC, so they had a leg up on the glut of other comic book companies.. but happened to start at the start of the comic book crash, a huge downturn in sales in the 90′s as the speculator boom, i.e. a bunch of people assuming every number one would be worth golden and silver age money, forgetting a character has to BUILD INTREST and this stuff takes time, and whose attempts to sell fast flooded the market with comics no one wanted,, caused the roof to cave in and with a bunch of assholes pegging milestone as a “Company for black people” rather than you know, a company trying to add fucking diversity and represntation to the comics industry, and that simply wanted a unvierse that was centered around people of color instead of white guys. The company eventually had to shut down, and was left to lisencing. This is where the show comes in. Producers HAD been trying to make shows based on Milestone for a while, as far back as the mid-90s and the company was was all for it but the closest it got was an x-men style team series using various characters whose first draft was terrible and whose second draft by Alan Burnett, a producer on various DC Animated shows who’d go on to produce Static Shock, that McDuffie and others really liked but sadly did not get picked up. eventually though with presistance Static ended up getting a series and as I said McDuffie went on to write for it though he did not develop it. Some changes went into place naturally to make it work for an early 2000′s kids show and while i’ll probably miss so since again, only read one issue as we go. But due to Milestone coming back my intrest was peaking, hence finally reading the copy of Icon I had to buy from the library years ago due to keeping it overdue but am now EXTREMLEY glad I own as i’ts incredibly rare and really damn good, and wanting to read static, doing so lately since it’s finally on digtiial and again not too expensive. So join me as I give you a shock to the system and revisit this hell of a series to see if it holds up.. which just to cut that short it does and i’m only holding off binging MORE because I want the first two eps to be fresh enough in my head to review properly.. and also go over the various voice actors because that’s a thing with me now and charcter co-creator dwayne mcduffie because he’s awesome.

As I like to do when covering a series first episodes, let’s run down the voice cast.

First up is an UTTER LEGEND, and I use the term voice acting legend a lot, and mean it every time and have good reason to use it when I say it, and Phil LaMarr is a GOD in the buisness, having done a metric ton of voice acting roles, and being easily the most proflific black voice actor in animation. He’s also done some acting work, mostly in pulp fiction which I have not seen, but his true staying power and talent is in animation so here’s just the roles I feel are most notable or may not be very notable but i’m bringing up anyway because it’s my list.

His roles besides Virgil include Lester Payton the Texas Ranger who showed up for one very good episode of king of the hill to be badass and show up the hickish, stupid and very punchable local Sheriff, Gearld’s obnoxious older brother Jamie O on Hey Arnold, Hermes Conrad from futurama, Carver from the Weekenders (PUT IT ON PLUS DISNEY), Axel Foley for exactly one bit in Clerks the Animated Series, but anyone whose seen it will know exactly which one, Micheal on the Proud Family, Black Vulcan on Harvey Birdman (In His Pants), Hector Con Carne and Dracula on Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy and Evil Con Carne, Jack on Samurai Jack something I didn’t know for decades (and I didn’t know about the carver thing till today though i’ts obvious in hindsight), John Motherfucking Stewart on Justice League and later Steel and Adult Static in the Unlimited seasons, Osmosis Jones on Ozzy and Drix, Bolbi Strogofski on Jimmy Neutron (And yes i’m just as shocked as you are.), Wilt on Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, Marcus on Life and Times of Juniper Lee, Bull Sharkowski on My Gym Partner is A Monkey and Also a Sociopath Please Help God My Life is a waking nightmare..... okay the rest of that title is implied but we all watched the same show, we all know in our hearts that was the title

Moving on, he was also, and yes there’s MORE: Maxie Zeus on The Batman, Philly Phil on Class of 3000, Both Robertsons AND Fancy Dan on the Spectacular Spider-Man, Jazz on Transformers Animated, Kit Fisto and Bail Organa on Star Wars the Clone Wars, Gambit and Bolivar Trask on Wolverine and the X-Men, Aquaman I, L-Ron and Green Beetle on Young Justice, J.A.R.V.I.S. and Wonder Man (Simon Williams) In Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Gabe and Carny on Kaijudo: Rise of the Duel Masters (Really miss that game and have been snapping up what cards I can get lately), Baxter Stockman in the 2012 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (And there’s also an awesome photo of him with 2003 Baxter... the two best together in one place. I got chills), Dormammu (I’ve come to bargin) in various Marvel Shows, Noville in Mighty Magiswords, Zach’s dad Marcus in Milo Muprhy’s Law, Craig’s Douchey Brother Benard on Craig of the Creek, showing he’s clearly come full circle, And Mr. Scully on the Casagrndes. And given It took about two paragraphs to cover all of this, yeah, I MEANT legend.

Next we have Kevin Micheal Richardson as Virgil’s Dad Robert, and it’s the first time since I started introducing Voice Actors on a show that i’ve overlapped. I already covered him during the second episode of legend of the three caballeros, but for the short version he’s also very acomplished, very damn good and I somehow missed he played the old blind guy in hey arnold> Needless to say the dude is awesome.

Virgil’s Sister Sharon is played by Michele Morgan who was in the rap group BWP and did some smaller roles outside of this the one exception being Juicy on the PJ’s, which I have not watched much of but REALLY do not like, though i’ll at least give it credit for being a decently long lasted black claymation sitcom at at time when there were, and hoenstly still aren’t, many black animated shows.

Back to long casting sheets, next up is Jason Marsden, who is one of my faviorites as i’ve realized recently as Ritchie. As I also found out only recently he started on the Sitcom Step By Step and while that show is .. ehhhhhhhhh, he is great in it because he’s great in everything. He also apparently has his own internet variety show which I have to watch now. His roles include Max Goof, ironically given I was just talking about that role a few days ago, Haku in the english dub of Spirted Away, Micheal, the kid being yelled at by a bunch of 80′s cartoons characters not to take drugs in Cartoon All-Stars to the Rescue!, Nermal in the DTV Garfield movies and The Garfield Show, Tino on the Weekenders (SERIOUSLY DISNEY), Snapper Carr on Justice League, Rikochet on Mucha Lucha! for the last season (Why I do not knkow and while I love the guy he was not the right choice), Felix on Kim Possible, Chase Young on Xiaolin Showdown (WHich I did not realize was him and now I do easily his best role and I REALLY should’ve), Red Star and Billy Numerous on Teen Titans, Speedy on Batman Brave and the Bold, Impulse/Kid Flash II on Young Justice, and Fingers on Kaijudo. He hasn’t done as much lately which is a shame but hopefully i’tll pick up again.

Next up is Hotstreak, Virgil’s brutal bully turned unhinted pyromancer played by DANIEL COOKSY, another actor i’m happy to talk about and another faviorite I haven’t seen much of lately. Daniel was an actor from childhood, playing Budnick on Salute Your Shorts, but he quickly gained a long and storied catalogue of VA Work: His first big roll was as Montana Max on Tiny Toon Adventures and if there is a god he’ll be back for the reboot, Stoop Kid on Hey Arnold, the incomprable Jack Spicer on Xiaolin Showdown, far and away his best role and part of why Chronicles sucked so bad was he was he didn’t get to reprise the role, The titular Dave the Barbarian, Django of the Dead on El Tigre (Had no idea), Kicks utterly insufferable big Brother Brad on Kick Buttowski and apparently he’s back at it again after laying low for a bit as he’s voicing Snag in Long Gone Gultch.. which I already really needed to watch but hot damn, I missed him. Sign me up.

Frieda, Virgil’s crush and close friend who in the comics was his main confidante and love intrest but here is eventually pushed aside, is voiced by Danica Mckeller whose work didn’t seem all that familiar.. until I found out she was Ms. Martian on Young Justice. Hello, Megan. Very talented and she did get a major role in a dc show eventually so good for her. Can’t wait for season 4.

So with our major players out of the way, let’s talk about Dwayne. McDuffie is an AWESOME man and my respect has grown for him more and more with time. A writer and editor at Marvel, McDuffie has a decent resume doing smaller but awesome books, which I got most of for free last year when Marvel was giving out free digital collections due to the lock down, like Damage Control, a sitcom set in the marvel universe about the company that picks up after superhero battles and the logistics and antics that insue and Dethlok, about a pacfist trapped inside a cyborg zombie. He was as mentioned one of Milestone’s founders, and wrote Icon, Hardware and co-wrote the first few issues of Static. He’d go on to a pretty stacked career in animation, writing on this show and Justice League before becoming story editor and show runner for Unlimited , even making a return to comics as a result writing the Marvel miniseries beyond and an arc of Fantastic Four in which Black Panther and Storm filled in for Reed and Sue while the two of them worked on their marriage after Reed did.. pretty much everything he did in Civil War. He also became head writer and show runner for Ben 10: Alien Force and Ultimate Alien, revamping the franchise a bit, and Alien Force, at least the first two seasons are awesome and I feel people overreacted on the changes. Ultimate Alien is okay, but has it’s problems but the finale was awesome and left the man’s legacy on a high note.. as he sadly passed in 2011 due to heart complications. He is truly missed and produced some utterly amazing stuff whlie he was alive. So on that melacholy note let’s see what happens when his creation hits the tv screen shall we?

Shock to the System:

This episode is written by Christopher Simmons, who is apparently a huge art designer guy.. but i’m not sure that’s the same chirsptoher simmons. Much more notable is the writer of the episode after this Stan Berkowitz, who was showrunner for season 1 and has done a LOT of DCAU work and is suprising talent, having written a lot of awesome Justice League episodes including Secret Society and The Royal Flush One. Point is we’re in first class hands. Before the episode itself I want to talk about the intro and how it’s unique among DCAU shows. Like most Western Animation the intros for DCAU shows didn’t change much over the seasons with the most I can see is JLU changing up the footage to preview the current episode and later adding Hawkgirl to the intro after her return to the team. I THINK superman the animated series changed some of it’s footage too, but I can’t confrim it and may of just been imagining it. As i’ve talked about on my blog it’s normally a pet peeve of mine, mostly because shows you know, change after season 1, characters get added some one shot characters used for the intro never return, and after a while it can feel dated especially in more recent shows where the status quo is not at all set in stone and things change quite a bit. But sometimes it can be good enough that either the dated elements don’t matter or general enough that you don’t need to change it and i’ts just that good.. and given Batman the Animated Series has both in spades, you can see why i’ts probably my golden standard for intros and after superman the animated series DC mostly followed suit. But being part of the teen superhero boom of the 2000′s Static is unique in that it splits the diffrence: It’s intro gets the character across perfectly like a good intro should starting with Virgil getting out of bed and running a comb across his head before showing off to his sister to bug her and literally running into his dad who hand shim his bag and smiles, silently showing off his family. He then runs to school and runs into some trouble.. and said trouble changes for each intro, with Rubberband Man for season 1, Kanga (Whose name I only know because I happened to run across it) for season 2 and your guess is as good as mine for seasons 3 and 4, though Hotstreak is a constant. They still save some money for seasons 1 and 2 by recycling some animation.. but that’s alright with mea s it was good animation, and the improtant thing is cycling out old villians for new ones, while Season 3 is the only out and out redo to show off Richie taking on the Gear identity, adding about 10 seconds of intro to let him show off. Seriously it’s an utterly great intro and like the other DCAU intros outside of superman, stuck in my brain.

The other change that’s ENTIRELY diffrent from the rest of htem is that the music changes each time. The first two have the same formula just with a difrent vocalist and backing track: a superhero theme but with some hip hop beat boxing over it. The first intro is fine enough, not specattcular but stilll god. The second song.. is eh. Not really great and feels like a marked downgrade from season 1 and just dosen’t blend an ocrehstiral superhero theme with the beatbox elements NEARLY as well. The third song though is my faviorite.. even if I HATED Little Romeo as a kid because I really did not like his nick show, it’s more a straight up rap song, but it has a faster beat that fits the intro better, and Romeo’s bragging fits Virgil’s character and penchant for Spidey quips perfectly. I also find it ironic that the theme that blends in with the dcau the most, the first season’s, is the one from BEFORE they decided to put it in the same universe. Still this season’s intro slaps, I just like the LIttle Romeo one a bit more. The opening scene is picture perfect. Some masked crooks looting a warehouse are loading some stolen TV’s into a van when suddenly the lights come on one by one above one of the crooks before his tv switches to various channels before going haywire. Cue our heroes’ entrance. Let’s tak ea good look at him

Static’s Costume is awesome. While I prefer the season 3 redesign, and clearly DC agrees as the redeisgn was used for both pre and post new-52 when they used him, and while he’s getting a fresh design for the reboot, said design takes a lot of cures from said outfit. As for how the outfit differs from the comics itself this is the design he had in the comics

It didn’t change much from the first issue, with the exception of his now iconic big puffy jacket which was added pretty early into the character’s history but I was unaware of that and just assumed he had the bodysuit the whole time. The more you know. But as you can see outside of the cool puffy jacket over a costume the two couldn’t be more diffrent. While the Dakotaverse outfit is more a standard superhero outfit, with some regular clothes touches on top the first cartoon outfit comes off more realistic, looking fantastic, but still coming off as something two teenagers could realistically have thrown together with what clothes they could buy, while still looking awesomely superheroy. IN short it’s perfect and only topped by the season 3 onward look...

But the slicker look, with an even cooler jakcet and the new colors all fitting the lighting ascetic better, but fits: not only has Virgil come along farther since he started, but with Richie now having a genius brain as Gear, he can provide a far slicker, far more professional superhero outfit on the budget the two have. This show is just great at costume design.

So getting back to the episode at hand, Static puts up a huge sign in elecrticy saying “Bad guys here”, PFFFT, and then hides away and narrates that a few days ago he’d be the last person anyone would’ve expected to be a hero. Cue Flashback.

We meet Virgil Hawkins on an average day: rapping into his razor, getting into a petty argument with his older sister Sharon, as a younger brother myself I relate to this, and talking to his dad who tries to get them to cut that out. We find out his mom has passed via his sister making really terrible eggs and saying that’s how mom made them. Exposition! Though we do get a great bit through this as when his sister gets distracted by her boyfriend calling, he uses the opportunity of her leaving the room to dump the eggs.. after having earlier jokingly prayed to his mom for a way out of breakfast. “Thanks for looking out for me mom” That’s both very sweet and very hilarious.

This is a change from the comics it turns out as I was utterly flored to find Virgil’s mom alive and well when reading the first issue of Static. Turns out this was a change made during development and one Dwane McDuffie admitted in the interview I got the tribute quote from to not liking as he had a good reason for having Virgil have a nuclear family, as most black families in media at the time were just one single parent and a kid or two with the other having either left or died. He wasn’t too bothered by it as while he preferred what he came up with in the first place, the show DID get some really good stories out of her being gone and didn’t just have her be absent because shut up. Virgil is still working over her death and the way HOW she died ends up playing an important role in this episode and gives Virgil a dislike of guns, as she died to gang violence. So the change wasn’t for stupid or racist reasons, but likely both to keep the character count down while giving them something to work with for storylines. Or it could’ve been for stupid reasons and the writers simpily made lemonade out of that very dumb lemon, either way it ended up working. Virgil also plans to ask his friend Frieda out. Frieda was a bigger deal in the comics, being Virgil’s friend and confidante as well as his ocasional love intrest, but here while she was inteded to at least be his love intrest here, that sorta fizzled out. As for the best friend role we meet her replacement in Richie, which McDuffie conceded was the kind of change a studio would make swapping out a female character for a male one. That being said the crew made the best of it and Richie is awesome, a bit of an overcompensating dipstick at times, but a good sounding board and pal for virgil and funny as hell too. He was also gay, something only revealed post series by McDuffie.. but unlike say Dumbledore, it’s a bit easier to swallow here: The early 2000′s were an even worse time for gay characters in tv let alone cartoons, and if they couldn’t kiss or have sex scenes on regular tv, there was no way we were getting any representation in a children’s show. So it was largely just hinted at by Richie overcompensating in how “into girls” he was and i’m once again fine with this being word of god as it was literally the best they could do and his counterpart in the comics was also gay, if not as relevant. Ritch encourages Virgil to work on his opening to ask her out as it’s awkward as heck, hits a bit close to home.. but I do appricate the show just .. having him try and ask her out from the first episode. They likely would’ve drug thigns out a bit granted had they used Frieda more, i’m not blind to the convetions of the time. .but as someone who got the very wrong idea from tv that just waiting around meant a girl would like you eventually, when no you need to actually try even if rejection happens, I honestly wish we had more of this in media than the other garbage morals at the time.

So he prepares to , not helped by her mentioning guy after guy is asking her out.... but before he can F-Stop, the future hotstreak, shows up. F-STOP

That being said...... it’s not as bad as the original gangster name for the comic’s version, Biz Money B. Yes BIZ MONEY B

So yeah while F-Stop is no more intimidating, it at least means I can stop laughing. Francis, because I can’t type F-Stop without laughing and this review is already behind, shoves Virgil out of the way and agressively hits on Frieda, even saying “you smell good”, the international sign your a douchebag and also to call the police. Virgil steps up to the guy and gets PAINFULLY slammed into the lockers, something I give the animation team a lot of credit for, as you can FEEL how fucking painful that was. Virgil is saved by Wade, another local gangbanger who in the comics was a close friend of Virgils but here saves him seemingly just because.. seemingly.

On the way home though Virg’s problems don’t end as naturally, the giant sized asshole with nothing better to do has his goons corner virgil before VIOLENTLY beating him.. off screen but the noises, and the clear brusies including a black eye, on virgil afterwords.. just holy damn i’m suprsied they got away with this but it shows just how horrifing it was and that this is a step above regular bullying, which make no mistake is absoluttley terrible and the series would later do an episode on it and school shootings, into straight up gang violence. Wade shows up again and gets the bastards to flee.. but also makes it clear he can’t keep doing this.. and forces Virgil to meet him at his base under the bridge. And it’s a tense sequence, with Virgil KNOWING this is a bad idea but having no real choice and Wade making it abundantly clear that he wants Virgil to join his crew, and makes a chilling point: while Virgils dad RIGHTFULLY dosen’t want his son to join a gang as Virgil points out.. he can’t be there for him all the time and eventually one of those times, Francis will be around. And he may not surivive that. Virgil nods noncomittaly. At home it gets even more grim as he dosen’t open up to his family, understandably as his dad would jsut say to call the police and well.. we’ve seen how the police treat black people. At best they’d just try and use Virgil as an informant and that likely wouldn’t end fucking well for Virgil. Ritchie points out he can’t join a gang, virgil’s mom died that way.. see told you it’d be important to the plot.. but I like how the story dosen’t offer an easy answer.. well okay he gets electric powers soon enough but without the fantastic element this is just an innocent kid caught between either joining the very thing his mom hated or hoping a system not built to protect him will keep him alive. It’s utterly saddening and chilling and holy shit is it amazing a cartoon in the early 2000′s was able to get away with.. ANY OF THIS, and they handle it great, paired down a bit from the comics but even then it’s still incredibly balsy they got THIS much in.

Naturally Wade calls in his favor and our hero is forced to come running.. and soon finds out Wade’s brought him in for a massive gang war. Welcome to the big bang, baby. He hands Virgil a gun as things get started and Virgil.. drops the thing and tries to escape, in a harrowing sequence.. and runs into Francis because god apparently REALLY hates this kid today. As if to prove that the police show up and while that prevents a beating, they demand they disassemble. then release untested gas on them because of course they do.

As a result the big bang truly begins, with the various gang members getting mutated.. and naturally so does virgil. Though he wakes up the next day seemingly fine. How’d he get home? Does his dad know where he was?

I don’t know and we’re not getting any answers, but Virgil soon finds weird stuff happening like his clock shorting out, change being attracted to him and his razor going wild. It’s only once he get sback to his room he gets an inkling of what’s going on and calls Ritchie to meet him at the Junk yard.. though it is a bit of a dick move as he dosen’t you know, tell him anything about Wade or Francis right away. He does at the yard though.. and that he has powers, having finally figured out how to use them to a point. And the series does provide a decent justification later as to why he’d get this so quickly: Virgil is a smart kid, gets great grades at school and apparnetly there’s even an episode later where he gets a scholarship to a fancy genius school. So him getting how elctromagntisim works or being a quick study on it makes perfect sense.

Richie suggest the obvious.. to become a superhero. And the thought.. hadn’t occured to Virgil. It’s honestly a nice twist on the old trope. That he hadn’t thought of it, not because he’s selfish or any of that or needs to learn a hard lesson, those have been done.. simply because the rush of getting his powers, and implicitly of having a way out of his current predciament, a way to keep Francis off his back and keep Wade from pulling him in further. His own path. But once i’ts brought up.. he jumps on it. Part of it is being a nerd like you or I, of course he wants to.. and being a good intetioned one, he knows this is the right thing to do. It’s waht makes a superhero a hero: Anyone can get powers in a universe like this, esepcailly the dcau, but it takes true courage and heart to use them selflessly and knowing you’ll be in danger. It’s why I love surperheroes: they often didn’t ask for this but they do it anyway because somebody’s gotta. We also get an intresting wrinkle is superman is, at least I think in this episode I could’ve missed it or misremembered things, mentioned as a fictional character. That’s because originally like the comics this wasn’t part of the DCAU.. but eventually the crew decided it shared staff from it, shared a network, both first run and on reruns, why not just make it part of the DCAU proper. I fully support this decisionf: While i’m midly annoyed unlimited never really used anything from static shock outside of Static himself in the time travel episode, despite you know Static and Gear having BEEN to the tower and not being much younger than Kara and defintely older than Courtney, I chalk it up to weird rights issues or something like that. But having Batman, Batman Beyond, Superman, Green Lantern and the Justice League itself all guest star was a good idea, and expanded both static’s universe and gave the DCAU something differnt as most heroes in it were older and more experinced in contrast to the up and coming virgil. Again really would’ve been nice if he and gear could’ve been a part of the expanded league but production might of just been too far ahead or, given he had his own series, they might just have wanted to stick to toher characters. Also begs the question why Icon or Hardware wasn’t adapted for the expanded League but hey, questions for later and the tricky logisitics of the milestone rights might’ve been the issue. I don’t know I wasn’t in the room.

So we get a costume montage, including Black Vulcan from Superfriends, who again ironically would be voiced by Lamarr not too long after this, though weirdly they DON’T use his outfit from the comics for this montage. I mean why not? It fits the gag and would’ve been a good second to last choice.But what could’ve been aside we get our winner and cut back to present day...

Thanks boys. Static finds out one of the things in the warehouse is a shipment of computers for the school and can’t help but show off, showing up to the school, where Frieda and Richie are setting up for the dance, and dropping off the computers, and even saying his catchphrase for the first time “I’ll put a shock to your system” (Which Richie chimes in with awesome line and I agree, great catcphrase), before helping set up and flirting with frieda.

Though as Richtie says he’s a natural. He’s not wrong as he can work a crowd. .but back it up too as his first run out had him easily taking out the crooks, and as many teen superheros and fans of heroes of hte type, myself included will tell you, getting it right in one is not easy. Not even Miles MOrales was immune. All Static needs now is a villian.

And the end of the episode provides one as we see, in horrifc and once again damn suprising detail most of hte new metas aren’t doing so good and are melting and other stuff and we catch up with Francis whose burning up.. and naturally given that hair, though given he named himself F-Stop it’s the least of his problems, he’s got fire powers and escapes to “Have me some fun”

So with that we end episode 1. And it’s excellent, a great way to introduce the hero and while the warehouse opening is a bit superflous, it is a decent addition, showing our heroes first outing in costume and giving us a bit of an action scene to get us through the very heavy rest of the episode. But the rest of the episode is no less grippping, telling the tale of a teen caught in an unwinnable scenario who suddenly finds a way out. And speaking of which waht of Wade? Will we see him again? Is he perhaps Ebon, the series big bad as I thought when I was a kid? What comes of the man who directly caused static’s origin?

Yeahhh that’s the one mistep I think the pilot makes. Frieda is understandable as that was likely a simple change in creative direction. This though? Why build this guy up if your not going to bring him back. I mean where he went was probably the grave, as he probably did due to his mutation, but it’s still VERY weird to spend a whole episode focusing on this guy, building him up as a big personal threat to our hero.. and NOT have him become the series big bad. And maybe he WAS supposed to be ebon and they just changed their mind. I don’t know but it bothers me it bothers me a lot. Otherwise though flawless. ONe more to go.

Aftershock: We open outside an electronics store, as our heroes watch the news reacap what happened in the first episode, with the media dubbing it the Big Bang and revealing their could be hundreds of “Metahumans”, as Virgil dubs after deciding the media’s term “Mutant” dosen’t fit, a nice wink to the fact that that’s the term used in dc comics and I believe milestone but could be wrong there. Me I like the term, has a nice ring to it.

At the store while Richie mulls over waht this means Static finds out he’s a human CD player.... this was before mp3 players and streaming on your phone made them horribly obsolete mind you and if you don’t know what one is congradualtions you live in some sort of bubble and you made me feel really old junior.

Frieda happens to be there and Virgil quips “What’s the matter they run out of britney cds”. Dude she’s not bad. Also be careful what you wish for man. Nickeback returned the year after this. You have not truly suffered through bad music yet my young friend. They spot a kid looking feverish, and he soon turns into a purple werewolf, as you do. It’s a bang baby.. those are richie’s exact word and you may not want to start a panic there bud. Just saying your best friend is one. THeir not all like this. Our heroes book it only to run into Francis who naturally refuses to let them leave and only doesn’t try to beat up Virgil because Virgil points otu the werewolf and nonplussed, he goes to fight it, scarring it off by revealing his own powers. He’s now dubbed himself Hotstreak which points for getting an actually good name kid. No points for what happens next as unsuprisingly getting powers did NOT mak ehim a better person and he attacks Virgil who blocks with a garbage can lid and thankfully is blasted into an ally. Richie tries to guard frieda for damn obvious reasons but gets hsi shirt burnt up because shut up Thankfully Static shows up, and we get our firsdt full on superhuman fight as both fight each other with aplomb, and it’s a damn good fight.. and one that goes pear shaped for Virg as he’s caught off guard when he finds out Hotstreak can use his powers to fly, and tackles him and his previous trauma causes him to freeze up. Thankfully , as Frieda put in a call earlier, the fire department arrive and HOt streak has to retreat, though Virgil is bummed that he “Choked”. And I love this as it not only shows Virgil’s inepxerince, as this is his first time fighting a bad guy but that just because he HAS power now dosen’t mean trauma and his previous fear of Hotstreak goes away or you won’t freeze up from time to time. It dosen’t make him weak or anything like some assholes would call it .. it makes him human. Humans make mistakes, and it makes him all the more relatable that he’s not pefect and that he did freeze up as I know I certainly would at last once in the circumstances.

Things don’t get better at dinner as Sharon and Pops argue over the bang babies with Pops calling them a meance and Sharon pointing out Static exists so they can’t all be bad. See assuming a group of superhumans are bad because a handful of them ar edick sis why the x-men had to get their own island nation. You can only save an ungreatful populous so many times before you say “fuck it i’m getting my own island, pay me for life saving drugs, save your damn selves and stop doing genocides on us. Kay thanks”. But he does bring up a valid point that rattles his son: We don’t know anything about the Bang Babies or their biological structures and it’s likely they might further mutate into monsters, Static included.

Virgil, understandably, wants to check this and thus he and richie compare blood samples in science, to no real conclusion. She he checks out with his doctor who assumes he’s sexually active in a great getting crap past the radar bit and a bit of realisim, but he agrees to the test though if something came up he would have to tell Virgil’s dsad and is up front about this. Nice dose of realisim.

That night City Council has a meeting and the Mayor TRIES to deflect Papa Hawkins questions about the bang babies which again, while being a judgmental ass as not every person hit was a gang member (Virgil, and as we discover later some others), and not every gang member is there by choice, some by circumstnace some, like virgil almost was, because they HAD no other option. Again years of reading x-men may of just made me a bit touchy on assholes admitely assuming superpower people bad. But it’s clear the public is upset and while she says an investigation is underway... Virgil and Richie are not only not convinced, but figure she’s actively covering it up. And unlike everyone else there who probably suspects the same, they can do something about it and tail her. It’s during this, and cleverly as I didn’t realie till writing this using similar skills to his human cd player act, Virgil listens in and discovers whose behind it: Edwin Alva, whose apparently richer than bill gates and a beloved phinarophist Alva, as it turns out, was actually the arch enemy of Hardware in the comics, taking advantage of the guy in his civiliian idtentiy and thus casuing him to launch a war on the asshole. He does transition into this series well though, being the one behind the gas that caused it and with the mayor agreeing to back off, planning to simply dump the info about the big bang on a disc then destroy everything for now till the heat dies down. Yup sounds like a corprate douchebag.

Static tails him, finds the lab and infiltrates it, stealing the disc.. but getting caught by Alva’s goon, and trapped in a glass prison, forced to use ALL his power to escape and barely getting out alive, but not before bouncing off alva’s car. Still he now has the proof.. and meanwhile Hotstreak, who I was wrong did get captured, is forced to take pill sbut spits them out once the orderly is gone. Dude.. WHY DIDN’T YOU WATCH HIM. Make sure he swallows that shit especially since, as he has no powers right now and can’t harm you.

Hotstreak escapes off screen and our heroes discuss the disc before he shows up, and we get a REALLY fucking amazing scene: Virgil ducks into an Alleway and ritchie is worried.. and Virgil disarms him with just one word responses Ritchie: Virg you can’t take him. Virgil: Gotta. Ritchie: Well at least wait for the fire department Virgil: Can’t. It’s simpile but it gets the point across: This is his fight, he can’t wait for help, and people need him. And this is what makes a true hero: It’s easy to be a hero when everythings going well.. but it’s the true ones who stick it out against the odds and fight anyway. And he’s going to. So we get one hell of a fight, though naturally Hotstreak burns up the disc. And I do like this as it dosen’t feel contrived.. yes Static could’ve left it with ritchie.. but he wasn’t thinking in the moment and dind’t really have time to think abotu the disc, only that people were being hurt and he was all they had between them and Hotstreak. It was no choice at all. Still that pisses Virgil off that the last night’s work is now worthless, and he fully charges up and curbstomps francis who retreats into a clearing. Hostreak brags when static follows, as even he’s figured out Static needs to be around metal, as he’s usually on his disc or the street, and in the park there suppodsidly isn’t any. But he’s not THAT smart as Virgil points out two things: one, he hoped to do this on PURPOSE so they wouldn’t be around people and no on e would get hurt and 2).. this is a city, there’s metal everywhere.. and he awesomely and cleverly proves it by unlodging a sewage pipe with his powers and dousing his foe, winning and proving his stuff. I love this solution, it’s a clever spider-man type way to disarm him, using smarts and the einvroment instead of just brute forcing it. Though the sewage part wasn’t intetional our hero still won and gets praise from the people dumb enough to follow the fight.

However at home Virgil points out it was Pyrrhic Victory and shows off his smarts by telling the tale behind it, which I didn’t know,because tv tropes didn’t exist yet: king pyrhus fought the romans and WON.. but had so little armies left that he still lost overall. That’s what this feels like to Virgil: he beat hotstreak but any chance at a cure for Bang Babies and Alva going to jail for causing them is gone. His mood does get a boost though as the doctor calls and reveals he’s fine, he just has a bit too much elctrolytes and just needs to lay off teh salt. He celebrates, we get a quick gag and the episode ends

Aftershock is another stellar episoe, giving us Virgil’s first super foe and a personal one at that, while showing some growth. As richie tells him he’s not virgil anymore he’s static and he can’t let his past get to him.. and he does’nt going from cowering in fear to easily beating his foe with simple logic. It’s a good followup that answers questions you may have from the first ep, like what does this do to virgil’s body, who supplied the gas, and why has no one done anything about this, and sets up another villian for Static in Alva. Great stuff. I highly recommend these episodes and the show as a whole: it’s fast paced, grounded and enjoyable, having just enough levity to not be too dour but just enough tension and stakes to be intresting. A throughly fantastic superhero show and one that i’d certainly love to revisit on this blog If you have an episode of static or the dcau in general you’d want me to cover, my comissions are open and details are on a tab on my blog or can be gotten simply by asking me via ask or dm. Tommorow we’re going deeper underground, there’s too much damage in this town as the Lena Retrospective continues. So expect gay ducks, straight ducks and some terrfirmains. See you next rainbow.

#static shock #static #virgil hawkins #richie foley #robert hawkins #sharon hawkins #hotstreak #milestone comics #dc comics #dc animated universe #dcau #dwayne mcduffie #robert l washington IIII #kids wb #hbo max #2000s #animation #black lives matter #black history month

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nettlestonenell · 3 years ago

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Part Two:

Ardent Human Desire vs. Fate and the Manpasikjeok OR Why Are There So Many Obstacles Between Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-Eul’s Ultimate Reunion?

If you haven’t, please go back and read Part One: Questions About the Flute OR User Manual, Manpasikjeok Edition

Let’s agree to a few things to start, here.

1. In a parallel universe, everyone has a counterpart/doppelganger.

2. In TKEM’s version of this, your counterpart/doppelganger shares not only your birthday and therefore your age, but also your exact genealogy—which is to say you have the same parents, grandparents, bloodline across each universe. In TKEM this means you will have the same family name (Jo, Lee, Jeong, Myeong) across all possible universes, though your first names will change depending on your iteration. This also means that you are fated to be with the same family/lover/spouse across all possible universes. This is pre-appointed and applies to everyone. *exception: as the worlds begin to show their cracks, Jo Yeong’s parents have divorced, while Jo Eun-Sup’s stayed together, and have had twins. (The finale, when the worlds are again harmonized, reunites Jo Yeong’s parents and they do have twins, which seems to signal that this was their proper Fate)

3. Episode 16, the series finale, seems to really muddy the waters of #2 in a way that I probably lean toward being sloppy consistency rather than deliberate revoking of world-building absolutes [Example: Jo Yeong’s parents are together in 2022 and have twins, but those children would be several years younger than their Republic counterparts (who are said to be starting Kindergarten at that same time), which is…not parallel universes in balance? It would signal exactly the opposite—that time and life flows entirely differently in each universe after repairing the flute…and 1:1 doppelgangers are no more--which is maybe yet another post needed to ponder that on…]

If we take on #2, we are left asking ourselves about three particular characters and their doppelgangers: Lee Gon/Lee Ji-Hyun, Jeong Tae-Eul/Luna, and Kang Sin-Jae/Kang Hyeon-Min

Across all universes, how are they fated to hook-up? OR Who is Jeong Tae-Eul’s true, fated love across all universes in the mind and will of Manpasikjeok?

Is it Jeong Tae-Eul/Luna, and Kang Sin-Jae?

For example, if Shin-Jae of the Kingdom is fated for Luna, and vice versa, and he’s been taken to the Republic (against the will of the flute), he can’t be with Luna. BUT, if that is the fate, that those two are to be together--especially to have a child--then it translates across all parallel worlds, and means that Jeong Tae-Eul is meant for Kang Hyeon-Min, yes? The two Republic-based iterations. This also would illuminate two other things:

1. The fact that Sin-Jae "has feelings for” Tae-Eul. She’s not the “right” iteration for him (he’s Kingdom and she’s Republic), but she’s the closest he can get to the satisfaction of his heart, in a frustrated Fate.

2. It could be suggested -- Did you ever notice that the youth embodiment of the flute appears at least twice in situations that throw KSJ and JTE even closer together? In one, he’s leading that group of high schoolers past the TaeKwonDo center where KSJ first sees Tae-Eul, and in another he’s bullying KSJ so that JTE fights for KSJ. It doesn’t seem coincidental to me that the flute makes an appearance trying to throw these two together—even though they’re the wrong match. Poor thing, it’s trying, in its broken state, to still do its job, to still steer fate.

3. But yet, Tae-Eul never--even long before meeting Lee Gon--has romantic feelings for Sin-Jae.

4. And what we’re shown in the final episode of the series between Sin-Jae and Luna in the Kingdom could at best be called pre-romantic. (and more likely be termed platonic) Their relationship mirrors the JTE/KSJ relationship in the Republic, of her hyung-nim well before Lee Gon appeared, before KSJ expressed that he had feelings for her.

Is it Jeong Tae-Eul and Kang Hyeon-Min?

If it’s meant to be JTE and Kang Hyeon-Min as a fated couple, that’s impossible, as KHM has been rendered comatose in a way that we’re not shown is related to either the Traitor or the Treason. We are shown in Episode 16 what was “supposed” to happen was that he would NOT be struck by the car—his original fate doesn’t hold, there, and as such, his character in 2022, now a chaebol, is removed entirely from JTE’s circle of acquaintance. I’d say, importantly, in the Episode 16 re-set (pre-LG’s return), she not only never looks him up, she never encounters him, which if he were her fate or her potential fate, she surely would have.

Is it Jeong Tae-Eul and Lee Ji-Hyun?

I confess this is where my money is. Of course, Lee Ji-Hyun, in the Traitor’s made-over version of the Republic, dies at age 8, so JTE would never have met him, and therefore I posit would have lived as a single, childless woman until her death in that version of the Republic. (Without the LG re-set)

(Had she not met Lee Gon) I believe that JTE and LJH were fated, in the will and agenda of the flute. They are its preferred match.

What about Lee Gon, then? Who for him?

Remember, in Episode 16, Luna gets a found-family re-set, and PM Koo is jailed after some political intrigue (though not having risen as high as PM). While Lee Gon would not likely have met Luna 1.0 the street rat, it’s not impossible to think that he might, at some function or another, have met a politician’s sibling who was college-educated and working as a civil servant.

I choose to believe that all versions of JTE and LG are fated to be lovers and ultimately parents to children. It is only Lee R/Lim’s cockblock that makes it impossible for the Republic’s iteration of JTE to meet Lee Ji-Hyun, dead aged 8.

Which is where Ardent Human Desire comes into play in altering Fate.

What is Ardent Human Desire when we’re talking about Fate?

Let me direct you to a little moment in a show called Goblin/Guardian: The Lonely and Great God, written by Kim Eun-Suk, the writer of TKEM.

A moment of set-up: the Grim Reaper has a tea room behind a solid (to living human eyes) wall. In it he entertains dead souls before they leave this world. In one episode, a living human man comes through the door, begging for a bathroom. Both Goblin and Reaper are stunned: no one living should be able to come through that door, much less see it. It’s not their Fate. Fate is unchangeable, right? But after directing the living man (in pain from a need for the toilet), they muse that ardent human desire can perhaps open any door (alter any assigned fate). [Something Goblin is eager to accomplish, subverting fate]

Seeing as it’s from the same author’s mind, I’d argue that that concept comes into play in TKEM, too.

From the Night of the Treason forward, Lee Gon has an ardent human desire to find JTE. Not Luna. No, he wants to meet the woman from the Republic who’s a police officer. That’s 25 years of a (let’s be clear: non-sexual, non-romantic at the time) persistent desire that never lessens, never fades. Furthermore, it’s a desire of the king who’s a potential player of the flute, of the growing child who heard the flute call to him. Of the man who chooses ultimately to retrieve the flute whole at ultimate personal risk (and risk, even, to his relationship with JTE, the object of his Ardent Human Desire).

And the flute tests him—in fact, I will argue with you all night and into the weekend that what we’re shown of him opening every door in the universe is just that: a test by Manpasikjeok. “Are you sure she’s what you really want?” it’s asking him. “How far will you go to find her? How many iterations of her happy can I show you until it lessens your desire for her? Until you give in?”

I think it’s terribly important that in no iteration does LG find a JTE doppelganger that’s in a bad situation, in need of rescuing. [Case in point: Luna 1.0 street rat--he’s allowed to see nothing similar] He expressly tells JTE that she is happy every time he finds a version of her. And yet, because of how fate works in TKEM’s universes, he likewise never finds her married or involved with anyone, or with children—because, as Part One laid out: if one Lee Gon/JTE has children (same birthdays)/hooks up with their fate, then ALL iterations of Lee Gon/JTE have children (same birthdays)/have hooked up with their fate--particularly once the timeline and flute have been repaired.

We know that if those JTEs had met their LG iterations they would have AT LEAST recognized our LG’s face when he presented himself. But they don’t. Nope. She is always employed, always still living in the same building with one, if not two, parents. Because of that we’re never shown that LG has trouble locating her (as JTE did in the Kingdom locating her mother, checking their address, b/c there her parents were both dead).

This shot will never look above-board.

To think about how these/this situation works, keep in mind that last leap during their epilogue dating trips—where LG had just left the Kingdom and they were blipped back there only minutes later. The flute, in its whole form, is clearly controlling where they are sent and when (and perhaps that’s a different post, too, about how the flute is preparing/teaching Lee Gon to be its eventual player). The flute, when whole, controls where you end up. It’s not a transporter where you dial up your destination, it’s spinning a roulette wheel if the roulette wheel is fixed by the House.

Here, in the immediate wake of resetting the night of the Treason, the flute is actively NOT LETTING Lee Gon get to JTE. It is MAKING HIM open every door in the universe, seeing if he will persist, showing him what it wants him to see. (Her happy and at peace, not in need of him.) The flute is trying to see if it can convince Lee Gon to let her go since, as they are from two different worlds, they are not each other’s assigned fate.

Obviously, showing him a JTE in straitened circumstances would only encourage him to find her. That’s not going to lessen his desire, so the flute doesn’t go that route. Instead, it shows JTE with purpose, first (I think) as an airline pilot, then a soldier, a graduate of the police academy, and finally as some version of an ‘Idol’ (I think.) [*All positions that also do a surprisingly good job of showing qualities that would sync well with being the Queen of the Kingdom, so perhaps the flute is a little conflicted about JTE as well…]

And what’s more, during this time, as LG is opening every door in the universe (and also, I assume, only being able to venture into the liminal space and leave the Kingdom occasionally b/c he’s still got King Work to do), the flute decides to put someone directly in bitterly lonely Tae-Eul’s path as well.

And it’s not to break her heart (nor viewers’).

Think about when she encounters Lee Ji-Hyun on the street. On my original views it seemed to me that he didn’t take any notice of her at all (she is, at her height, well out of his line of sight), but upon closer re-watch he DOES actually have a second of looking at her. It’s not extended eye contact, and maybe not direct eye contact at all, but he does see her. In this, the flute gives Tae-Eul the chance to see her original, pre-LG fated love. And what does it have him dressed in, just for her sake?

That’s right: his military uniform. It’s not the same coat Lee Gon wore when washing rice, that was white—but it’s the black one he and Yeong are wearing in their selfie. “Here he is,” the flute/Fate seems to be saying to her, “he could be yours if you’ll only accept him.”

[*It is also perhaps because Lee Ji-Hyu- iterations are serving his military service that the other JTE-iterations have not met him yet in the other parallel universes]

But the Ardent Human Desire of these two lovers refuses to be swayed, even after a year of separation and total ignorance of each other’s post-reset situations. Persistent. Ardent. Human. Desire.

The flute is indebted to both of them. They each took steps that culminated in a destiny/fate they each chose to embrace (to use Prince Buyeong’s words). They sacrificed their own Ardent Human Desires to fix the timeline and the parallel universes while knowing it might well separate them forever from that which they desire (the exact opposite of villainous Lee R/Lim’s actions). [In fact, making ultimately Kingly choices, shows of wisdom and worthiness.]

The King Lee Gon chose for not only his subjects, but also the citizens of the Republic, and the future Queen JTE chose to brave the liminal space with Lee R/Lim for her love, the King.

And in the wake of that, fate—and the Manpasikjeok—agreed to bend.

Which is why LG and JTE then become what is fated.

#tkem #tkem meta #the king eternal monarch #the king: eternal monarch #lee gon #jeong tae eul #manpasikjeok #kang sin jae #tkem luna #kdrama #more like okay: drama!#fate

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hale-13 · 3 years ago

Text

Trapezius

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 27 Prompt 27 - Injured

Peter gazed out over the harbor forlornly, twisting his mask into knots in his lap. Normally he would really enjoy the view – the sun was setting in a clear sky turning the normally disgusting water a soft orange and painting the area with a soft warmth. The peaceful view was marred by the emergency vehicles, Coastguard boats and police and news helicopters which made Peter’s gut clench with anxiety. He just… he tried so hard.

Words: 2123, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Helen Cho

TW: Injury, Poor Emotional intelligence

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

The sound of repulsers approaching made Peter tense and he mentally put his walls back up. He couldn’t afford to let Mr. Stark see him as a kid right now. They were colleges when he was Spider-Man, peers. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it puff out through his clenched teeth.

“Previously on Peter screws the pooch I tell you to stay away from this instead you hack a multi-million dollar suit so you can sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do,” Mr. Stark’s sarcastic voice said and Peter held back a flinch, keeping his expression blank as he cautiously looked back over his shoulder. His back was killing him and felt hot and swollen from his Hercules hold of the ferry earlier – he had definitely felt something tear – but he couldn’t afford the weakness right now.

“Is everyone okay?” He asked instead, keeping his voice monotone and trying not to tense his back.

“No thanks to you,” the Iron Man voice made Mr. Stark’s snide tone sound slightly metallic but, more than that, it made his blood boil and he whipped around to face the man.

“No thanks to me?” He took no precautions as he lifted his lefts over they side of the concrete tower and jumped down on the other side making his shoulders throb. “Those weapons were out there and I tried to tell you about it and you didn’t listen. None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me!” His voice broke and he could feel blood rushing to his face but he did his best to push down the embarrassment. “If you even cared you’d actually be here.” He threw in boldly.

It took him by surprise, therefore, when the armor opened in from of him and Tony Stark stepped out, a grim look of disappointment on his face that made Peter stumble back a could steps, unable to hide his wince of pain but playing it off as shock instead. “I did listen kid. Who do you think called the FBI huh?”

Peter dropped his gaze, unable to make further eye contact, only interrupting to correct his age and flinching again at Mr. Stark’s yelling. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, but he could tell the platitudes were only making his idol angrier so he said instead, with the most sincerity he could push into his tone “I just… I just wanted to be like you.”

“And I wanted you to be better,” Mr. Stark said back in a weary voice before asking for the suit back. Peter heart sank further but he got it. Mr. Stark was right – he didn’t deserve to be Spider-Man if all he did was hurt other people.

The car ride back to his apartment in Queens was silent and awkward, broken only by Mr. Stark and Happy leaving the car and throwing his a pair of hideous Hello Kitty pajama pants and an oversized New York tourist shirt. It took more effort than he would care to admit to slip the suit off of his painful muscles and lift his arms up high enough to pull the shirt on but he managed it.

Happy slipped back into the driver’s seat a moment later and raised the partition but Mr. Stark didn’t return as they pulled away from the curb and Peter’s heart sank further when he realized the man had probably taken the armor back to the Tower because he couldn’t bear to be in the car with Peter another minute. His eyes were burning but he refused to cry here – he’d already proven to be a problem and he wasn’t going to cry about his well deserved punishment.

The car stopped in front of his apartment and the locks on the doors popped but Happy didn’t roll down to partition to talk to him or offer any direction so, without a backward glance as his poorly folded suit, Peter slunk out of the car and upstairs.

May was not happy with him for skipping school and not answering his phone and, with the pain of his torn muscles ratcheting up and the emotional trauma of the day weighing down on him he collapsed onto the couch and tearfully confessed to his aunt that he had lost his internship, wanting to bring his arms up to return her tender hug but physically unable to do so. His only relief was that she directed him to take a shower pretty immediately because he smelled like garbage,.

And, yeah, he probably did.

The piss poor water pressure of their dingy shower was actually a blessing today but Peter could still barely stand with his back facing the hottest water possible hoping that the heat would relieve some of his pain but he was still just as painful when he forwent his sleep shirt a few minutes later.

He healed fast. This was fine – it would all be resolved in a few days.

———————————————

“Fuck,” Peter muttered, keeping his right arm tucked close to his stomach as he wrestled with the leukotape he had bought at the pharmacy. It kept sticking to itself and the wall and his hair and basically everywhere but where he was trying to stick it and Peter groaned, balling the piece up and throwing it away.

It had been a few months since dealing with the Vulture. A few months since turning down Mr. Stark’s offer to be an Avenger but accepting his offer to become his personal intern and Peter couldn’t be happier.

Well. Except for his shoulder that is.

His left arm had healed fully after straining his muscles holding the ferry together but his right had just gotten worse and worse and it was interfering with his ability to not only be Spider-Man but also to just perform everyday tasks. He hadn’t been able to lift much with that side or even put on a shirt normally in weeks and it was starting to grate on his nerves. After spending hours watching videos on YouTube Peter decided to try some strengthening exercises and taping.

Neither was working very well.

“Fuck,” he said again, with feeling, as he bent forward at the waist to rest his head on the cool counter top of his bathroom. He was supposed to get picked up by Happy in a few minutes to go and spend the weekend at the Tower with Tony to work on his suit and there was no way he could hide this anymore. He couldn’t even lift his arm up to chest level. His phone vibrated on the counter top and he moaned, answering it without looking at the caller ID. “Hey Happy.”

“Nope, guess again,” his mentor’s voice said and Peter jerked up, letting out a strangled grunt as he jostled his shoulder. “You okay kid?”

“Why are you calling me?” Peter said instead, deflecting.

“I’m picking you up,” Tony said. “Now are you okay?”

Peter waffled for a minute but one look at his duffle bag made him ache and he let out a sigh. “Not… really I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” His mentor’s voice was sharp and he could hear the sound of his seatbelt smacking the window of his car and the door opening and closing as Tony got out of the car.

“It’s not a big deal,” Peter said, going to the front door and unlocking and opening it just as Tony left the elevator, they made eye contact and hung up their phones.

“Well you look to be in one piece and there’s no blood everywhere,” Tony said as he joined Peter in the living room of his apartment and looked him over. “So what’s going on kiddo?”

Peter nibbled on his bottom lip and gripped his right hand into his shirt tightly for just a second before releasing it. “Remember the ferry?”

Mr. Stark was silent and attentive as he listened to Peter ramble and sighed deeply at the end of his story, reaching one hand up to massage his eyes. “You really don’t half-ass anything do you?”

“Do you actually want me to answer that?” Peter asked confused and his mentor rolled his eyes, grabbing Peter’s bag from where it was resting in the hallway.

“Come on then, you have a date with Dr. Cho and the MedBay.” Peter whined but didn’t overly protest when he was directed out of the apartment and down to where Mr. Stark had illegally parked in the fire lane in front of his building.

It was just some muscle straining right? A week or two of meds and resting it and everything would be okay.

“Well its not a strain,” Dr. Cho told him just over an hour later looking at the images of his radiographs and MRI on a holotable. “You’ve torn your rotator cuff and continually re-injured it to the point that its basically just a mass of scar tissue.”

“Oh…” Peter said, a little dazed from the small dose of painkillers he had been given so that they would be able to manipulate his arm for the images. “What does that mean?”

Helen gave him the same disapproving look she had been giving him since she had taken his history and had learned that he had been putting massive amounts of pressure and g-force on an injury that he had never allowed to fully heal. “It means Peter,” she said firmly shutting down the table, “that you’ll need surgery to repair the tear and clean out all the scar tissue. And you’ll need to give it time to heal and go to physical therapy if you plan to ever use your arm to its fullest extent ever again.”

Peter’s mind went a little blank at that. “Surgery?” He asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “But Spider-Man–,”

“Will be taking a break,” Tony told him. “Your health always comes first Peter.” He turned his attention back to Dr. Cho. “Can you tell his aunt all of this later? Also when can we do the surgery.”

“I’ve already got him scheduled for tomorrow morning with a specialist I’m bringing in from NYU,” she said. “And of course! Just let me know when she gets here.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Peter groused from his spot on the exam bed but both adults ignored him and he rolled his eyes. “What if I don’t want surgery?”

“Then you’ll be dealing with chronic pain, pion and needles, weakness and continuous tearing for the rest of your life and you’ll need a shoulder replacement in less than fifteen years at the rate your going,” Dr. Cho said, typing notes into his chart. “So I’ll see you in the morning for the surgery.”

Peter glared at her but, at the twinge in his arm when he adjusted in his seat, he grumbled “fine”.

“It won’t be that bad Underoos,” Tony said later as they sat on the ridiculously large couch in the penthouse living room watching Brooklyn 99 while May spoke with Peter’s medical team. “You get to skip school for the next week while you recover and I bribed Bob Igor to give me the next season of the Mandolorian early for us to binge.”

“But…” Peter gnawed at his lip, hating the taste of blood that filled his mouth as he broke open the tender skin again. “What if this doesn’t fix it?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Tony said with a smile. “Cho is the forefront in development in regeneration. If anyone can fix you it’ll be her. And May and I will be there the whole time. You have nothing to worry about okay?”

“You’ll be there?” Peter said, fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt and refusing to look up at his mentor.

“Of course I’ll be there!” Tony said warmly with a squeeze to his good shoulder. “You’re my favorite intern.” He teased.

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said sincerely, reading the unsaid bit and relaxing a little back in the couch. Between his pain meds and his full stomach he could feel his eyelids drooping and he decided to relax more fully into Tony’s side – there was no where he felt safer.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump27 #Prompt: Injured #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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writersrealmbts · 4 years ago

Text

Closed Quarters: Part 1

Description: Mistakes were definitely made. When the boys get a commission to kidnap a secret government official, something a little different from their usual work as thieves, they end up in deeper waters than they expected--locked in a bunker for fifteen years with you, while outside the bunker, the world faces an unseen threat. And maybe, just maybe, you find Jungkook a little too attractive.

Warnings: I don’t know? I can’t think of any.

Posted: 08/22/2020

Tags: Jungkook x reader, 2seok, theives!au, secret government worker!y/n

Angst. Just angst: 8,314 words

A/N: I have a lot of time this weekend, and I was going to cut this into smaller parts, but I decided not to. So, here, have a huge installment in this series.

Banner by @chillingtae (Thank you again!!)

“No way! Kidnapping is way different than stealing, and twice as dangerous,” Jin stabbed the table with his finger to make his point. “We’re risking enough as it is without trying to kidnap some woman.”

“I understand that you’re concerned—“

“This isn’t concern!” Jin snapped, cutting Namjoon off. “It’s common sense. We aren’t risking the kids, and that’s final.”

“We’re not kids, hyung,” Jungkook argued. “And we aren’t really at risk. No one suspects us, not even the law.”

“Exactly! That’s why we can risk kidnapping her,” Namjoon quickly jumped in, then held up the picture of the target. “Do you see this face hyung? This is the face of the biggest payout we’ve ever seen!”

Jin shook his head, staring at the photo of the woman before glaring at Namjoon. “You brought me in as the voice of reason. To make sure you guys don’t go overboard. I’m telling you that this is too risky. Whether you listen to me or not is up to you, but I want no part in it. Hoseok, tell me you aren’t buying this. Yoongi?”

Hoseok looked uncertainly at his hyung, then around the room.

Yoongi nodded. “I’m in.”

Taehyung and Jimin exchanged looks, but ultimately declared they were in as well.

Hoseok hesitated, but he reached over and squeezed Jin’s shoulder. “I’ll watch out for the kids.”

Jin could feel his heart shattering. He hung his head as he got up. “I won’t follow you into this death-trap. If any of you get hurt, it’s your own fault and don’t expect me to show any sympathy.”

“Hyung…” Taehyung reached out.

Jin jerked out of reach. “No. Just…no.”

They all watched helplessly as Jin walked out.

Hoseok determined right then to make sure the three youngest didn’t get a single scratch. “Without Jin we need to plan very carefully.”

“We don’t rely on him that much,” Yoongi snorted.

Hoseok stared at him, as hurt as if Yoongi had said it about him.

“Do we?” Jimin asked quietly.

Namjoon looked shaken. “I’ve never run a heist without him. He’s the best grifter I know.”

“Tae, the pressure will be on you to perform flawlessly. Jimin, you’ll have to be the canary. Namjoon, lookout. Yoongi and I will grab her. Jungkook, you’ll be the driver. Now, the best place to get her would be her house. Daylight is too risky.” Hoseok focused on the schematics Namjoon had brought with him.

“She’s far enough away from anyone that we could pull the charger con.” Yoongi sat down, but continued glancing toward Hoseok.

Hoseok wasn’t going to let him off easy for being so disrespectful of their eldest. Jin saved them just about every heist. Without him there to watch their backs, the job became twice as dangerous.

“The gps data from her car says that she goes out to the middle of nowhere every Tuesday and Thursday. From early morning to late evening. We could grab her there,” Jimin suggested, tapping the map on the screen after typing in the coordinates.

“There’s nothing around there,” Namjoon frowned, looking over the different maps. “It’s undeveloped.”

Hoseok studied things as well before noticing the map that Jin had in front of him before. He slid it in front of himself and looked it over. “Wait…that forest used to be a huge quarry. But now it looks like…a hill?”

“We’ll need to do some reconnaissance. Hoseok, you Ji—” Namjoon stopped himself and cleared his throat, “Jungkook. You and Jungkook go check out the area. We’ll make a plan and keep an eye on her movement.”

Hoseok nodded, getting up to go get his gear.

Jungkook caught up to Hoseok. “Hyung, we’re going to tell Jin-hyung, right?”

Hoseok nodded. “Despite what he says, I know he’ll be keeping an eye on us. He might have already figured out the quarry lead.”

“But he said—”

“Rule one, Jin-hyung could never not care about us.”

Jungkook bit his lip, still worried. He’d never seen Jin get so riled up about a job, and he had never seen Jin so…hurt. “Where do you think he went?”

“The car. I think he’s waiting for us in the car. I wasn’t expecting Namjoon to pair you with me. I thought he might do Jimin.”

Jungkook was confused. “Why would he be in the car?”

“Because, he wants to protect us without Yoongi, or Namjoon, knowing it. Because as angry as he is, he could never turn his back on us.”

“What if he isn’t in the car?”

Hoseok swallowed. “Then he’s going to the quarry and we all will need to follow him.”

“But why would he?” Jungkook asked, worried for his eldest hyung.

“To prove his point.” Hoseok opened the door to the garage.

Jin was sitting in the driver's seat.

Hoseok breathed a sigh of relief and hopped into the passenger seat, forcing Jungkook into the back. “Hyung. You knew about the quarry.”

Jin nodded solemnly, starting the vehicle and pulling out of the garage.

“What do you think is there?” Jungkook asked eagerly.

“Trouble. I think trouble resides there. Namjoon hasn’t looked at all the facts about her yet.”

“Why are you helping us, hyung? You said you wanted no part of this,” Jungkook asked.

Jin looked at Jungkook in the mirror. “I’m not helping you. I’m saving you. I’m helping her.”

Jungkook froze. “What?”

Hoseok stared.

Jin focused on the road. “Jungkook, she’s a government employee, yet she never enters a government building? But twice a week, and every other weekend, she goes out to the location of an old quarry that has been covered up and turned into another forested hill?”

Hearing it like that did sound more suspicious, Jungkook admitted to himself.

Hoseok felt sick. “It’s a trap?”

“Worse. It’s a government facility that’s likely armed to the teeth. But what’s more concerning is that someone gave this information to us. Why? Who benefits from kidnapping a girl who works in the shadows?”

Jungkook stared at Jin's grim expression, then at Hoseok’s nauseous one. “Her…family would pay for her?”

“Jungkook, think about the information we were given. They said she was a high-ranking government employee, extremely valuable. And someone wants her kidnapped.”

“They want us to be a distraction while either they kidnap her or they infiltrate her position.” Hoseok dropped his head between his knees.

Jungkook drew in a shaky breath. “So…we’re warning her.”

Jin nodded, gripping the wheel a little tighter.

They didn’t speak again until they had arrived at the site.

“Her vehicle is here,” Hoseok hissed.

“I should scout around first. You two should stay here until I report back.”

“No, we go together,” Jungkook said. “We find her together. If we’re warning her, then...it shouldn’t be as dangerous and we shouldn’t be skulking.”

Jin winced but pulled up behind it anyway. “Ok, let me do the talking.”

They all got out, checking out the vehicle before heading toward the small path that appeared as a wildlife path, but they figured it was actually a human path.

Jungkook was wary, and glad that he was armed. He didn’t want to use it, but if it was a choice between using his weapon or losing one of his hyungs…it wasn’t a choice. He knew that Jin was armed as well, but he also knew that it would only be drawn if Jungkook or Hoseok were in danger.

Jin froze, stumbling when Hoseok ran into him, but holding them both upright.

“Hyung?”

Jin nodded again of them. “Found the bunker.”

Hoseok and Jungkook exchanged a glance, Hoseok terrified and Jungkook a little sick to his stomach.

It was well-armed, yet it all appeared disarmed--the door sitting wide open as though welcoming them in.

Jungkook breathed in sharply as something cold pressed against his neck.

“I would comply now, gentlemen,” A soft voice said, somewhere behind him and to his left. “You’re going into the holding cells. I’d hate to cut his throat. So messy and the nightmares aren’t fun either.”

“Then let him go,” Hoseok said, nervous, desperate, reaching out toward Jungkook as if that would save him.

“Not until you’re all in the holding cells. This is a matter of national security. I don’t play around when it comes to national security. It’s my job not to,” She answered. “Now, you can comply, or I can kill all of you before you can draw your weapons. I may not like it, but I can do it all the same.”

Jin grabbed Hoseok’s arm. “Do as she says.”

“Hyung!”

“Just. Walk,” Jin said sternly, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s neck. “Her blade is poisoned.”

Jungkook felt his eyes grow wider.

They all entered the bunker, the area they walked into looking a little bit like a garage or air-hanger, with lots of computers at the far end and doors and doorways leading who-knows where.

“Third door to the left,” She instructed. “Then turn right until you reach the last door and go in. Head to the back wall and wait.”

Jin led them the way she instructed, never looking back.

Hoseok was practically walking backwards to make sure Jungkook was still unharmed.

Once Jin and Hoseok were against the back wall, the blade came away from Jungkook’s throat and he was shoved toward them.

When he looked back, a strange barrier blocked them from reaching her. Wavery light, like water, yet also very electric looking.

The girl looked prettier than her picture, just something about her general demeanor that made her seem...more. Something about her eyes that seemed to be engaging, something about how she was dressed

She typed something in on the wall. “Wait there. I’m expecting more guests.”

“Who?” Jungkook asked, desperate. He knew who the next guests would be, but how could she know?

She met his gaze, solemn. “Your friends. I know there are seven of you. I’ve read the secret intelligence reports on all of you. You weren’t flagged as a high-level threat, though, not by everyone else.”

“Why did you threaten me?” Jungkook asked desperately.

“My job is to defend the secrets of my country. Your discovery of this place threatens that secret. I’ll be back to find out who gave you the information required to find me. But first I have to go move my car and greet your friends.”

Jungkook frowned. “So...you weren’t the one who tipped us off?”

“Why would I? This is my life’s work, this place is my life. My grandfather’s legacy.” She gestured around generally.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a bunker, one of ten around and throughout the city. This bunker alone can hold and provide for 250 people for twenty years, and it’s the smallest one. It is safe from nuclear explosions, atomic bombs, and 120 other types of destructive weapons. It’s entirely self-sustaining, and holds the backup information for our government, direct access to military computers for remote communication, and entire directory of our country’s history: military, arts, literature, music, theatre, medicine--everything.” She folded her arms, studying them. “All of which I probably shouldn’t have told common thieves.”

“We’re not common thieves!” Jungkook snapped.

She met his gaze, unchallenging and seemingly sympathetic. “You’re not. But that’s what you will be charged as before being put into the highest-security prisons in solitary confinement.”

Hoseok gently pulled Jungkook away from the barrier. “Solitary confinement?”

She nodded. “So that you can’t tell anyone about what you have seen, heard, or learned. I am sorry, but that’s what it has to be.”

“Y/n,” Jin said quietly. “We did come to warn you about us getting this information.”

She looked away from them. “And I’ll be back to get that information.”

Jungkook watched her leave, mouth gaping.

“I...I can’t do solitary confinement....Jiminie and Tae can’t either….” Hoseok was starting to hyperventilate.

Jin wrapped around Hoseok, holding him tightly. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

“How can you promise, hyung? It’s your fault we’re in this mess in the first place!” Jungkook snapped, pushing Jin away from Hoseok. “If you hadn’t walked out on everyone and told them--”

“Did it seem like I would have been listened to, Jungkook?” Jin asked at an equal volume. “Did it seem like they were listening? You didn’t. Hoseok didn’t either. I basically hijacked your mission. Imagine if you had come tramping in here for recon!”

“Please don’t fight,” Hoseok said quietly, voice shaking. “Don’t fight.”

Jin wrapped him in a tight hug again, giving Jungkook a soft glare. “I did the best I could.”

Jungkook deflated a bit, turning away.

They stood around, waiting.

Hoseok just shifted back and forth between them, hugging them both as they awaited her return. Tried to pull the two together, but Jungkook wouldn’t go any closer than five feet.

Then the lights turned red and a piercing alarm started blaring.

All three of them covered their ears, wincing.

“Lockdown Initiated. Lockdown Initiated.”

The barrier came down.

Jungkook hurried back the way they came, running into Jimin. “What’s going on?”

“We were just trying to find you and--”

The doors slammed shut as Y/n came racing through toward the computer beside it, where Namjoon and Yoongi were messing around frantically.

She shoved them away, then messed around at the computer.

The alarms went away, but in its place was the sound of the door sealing shut.

“Lockdown complete.”

Jungkook slowly moved toward where she was hunched over the console, no longer moving.

Finally she turned toward all of them, looking like she’d just lost ten years off of her life.

Jungkook swallowed.

“Great job, morons. Now we’re all trapped in here. For fifteen years.”

----------

You stared at the screen in disbelief, the flashing coded protocol searing itself into the back of your eyelids.

You felt like you couldn’t breath.

Not only were you trapped in there, you were trapped in there with criminals. You were trapped in there with some criminals who wanted to kidnap you. You were trapped in there with some criminals who wanted to kidnap you and another whose life you threatened for the sake of your country and its people. You were trapped in there with some criminals who wanted to kidnap you, another whose life you threatened, and another who was actually your cousin.

For fifteen years.

Fifteen. Years.

But you had the upper hand. Sort of. You knew the place better than they did, and you had the only keycard and code to get into over half of it thanks to the way they initiated the protocols.

You turned toward them, noting that the three you had imprisoned were out now, staring at you in apprehension. The other four looked slightly panicked.

“Great job, morons. Now we’re all trapped in here. For fifteen years,” You said, glaring at the two who had been at the computer.

“What?!”

All of them were closing in, all in a hurry to see that it isn’t so.

You reached back and quickly turned that console off so that they couldn’t do any more damage to the system. “You initiated the fallout protocol: PP136137. It locks the bunker down for fifteen years in the case of some sort of disaster.”

“Can we reverse it?” Jin asked, holding the two he had arrived with back from crowding you.

“Maybe, but the whole point of it is to protect the people inside from outside attackers, people trying to get in. And I haven’t finished updating the systems, so we’re working with some old computers. If I work non-stop, I might be able to finish going through everything in...five years?”

“Five…” One of them breathed, then turned toward the others. “My parents...my siblings….”

Jin quickly reached out and pulled him into a hug, still holding the one that had come with him, but also keeping a firm hold on the third one’s sleeve--the cute one who’s life you threatened. “It’ll be alright, Tae.”

You huffed and moved toward the computers in the back. “Guess you won’t need to go to prison this way.”

“This is preferable,” One of them muttered.

You pushed back the urge to smile at that, instead going to see what you could do at the computers. You thought, maybe, if you could reroute through the military line you could access a regular email account so that you could notify people of an issue with the protocol, and then contact their families so they knew they didn’t just...disappear. That would be terrible.

“What is PP136137?” The one you threatened asked, coming up to stand behind your chair as you sat at the computers.

“I told you, fifteen years in the case of some disaster. A country recovery plan.”

“But what does it stand for?” One of the annoying ones who had trapped you in there asked.

You sighed and leaned back. “Princess Protocol. In the case of takeover, the information in this bunker is retained so that no information will be lost, no history, no art...no way for an entire civilization to be wiped out without remnant. The public are to be directed to bunkers if threats to civilization are so severe….”

“That being locked into a bunker is preferable?” One of them said, sounding both skeptical and alarmed.

The computers were still locked down, part of the 12 hour lockdown section of the protocol.

“As I told your friends before you arrived, this bunker can support 200 people for twenty years.”

“Why call it the Princess Protocol?” The one Jin called Tae asked, crouching beside you to look at the screen you were trying to work from.

“There were multiple reasons, but it was proposed that...all throughout history, you will see princesses surviving where the rest of their family did not--whether it be because of political marriage or whatever other reason. Those princesses carry their culture, language, and history with them. Princesses would learn things about their own country that may not be known to the general public, secrets.” You huffed in frustration as it denied you access again. “I can’t do anything for twelve hours.”

“Your position is that of the princess named in the protocol,” the death-threatened cutie said, looking a little...stunned? Shook?

“Not the official title, but if that makes sense to you, sure.” You spun in your chair to face them. “Now, I thank you kindly for not touching any of the system computers. Come on. There are beds and clothing this way.”

They followed you, quiet and surprisingly complacent.

You showed them where the spare clothes you stocked the bunker with were located so they could grab a change of clothes, then led the way to the elevator. “We’ll be on the eighth floor. I was heading up the refurbishing of this place so it’s not completely finished, but there’s enough done for us to live comfortably since we’re stuck here now. And I kindly request that you remain on the eighth and the ninth floors. Everywhere else there are things that are potentially hazardous and unless I request your assistance, you’ll probably muck something up if you go there on your own.”

“What’s on the ninth level?” The quietest one asked, his voice soft and almost delicate.

“The gardens. That...that didn’t need any work.” You smiled thinking about it. At least there was the garden. It was almost exactly like a park. There were even birds, frogs, turtles, butterflies, and fish in one section of it (carefully sealed with a double air-lock you’d have to train them to use before giving them authorization to go in). On the third floor was where most of the food production took place, but there was also some food production on the ninth-floor. Also, there were paths you could ride a bike on through the ninth floor, even if it was only a short trip around on a bike. It was sort of freeing to be able to ride it. Not that you didn’t use your bike in other sections of the bunker, because you totally did. There were some long hallways on the 2nd, 3rd, 6th, 10th, 11th, and 23rd floors.

The elevator opened up to a fairly blank room, and you led them to the left, through a large dining hall, into and out of a large kitchen, past the closed doors of five private bathrooms, and the open entry to a community laundry room, and then to the large living and office space.

“That hall leads to ten different bedrooms. I have the one farthest down the hall on the left. You may choose any of the others, just stay out of my room.”

“You already have a room?”

“I live here part time,” You answered, shrugging. “Sometimes it’s easier to just stay the night instead of driving home.” Not to mention you knew it was the only one of two bedrooms with a private bathroom.

They slowly made their way down the hall, checking out each room and talking.

But Jin stayed behind. “Would you really have thrown us in jail?”

“It’s not like I would have had much choice. I probably would have helped you escape somehow, but you would have had to leave the country. Now I suppose you can serve your sentence out here.”

“I’m really sorry about this.”

“Jin, who gave them the information about me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Find out. Because I’m not supposed to exist as far as our government is concerned, so whoever this is….”

“It could be a matter of national security?” He guessed, looking worriedly after his friends. “Jungkook was right to blame me for this.”

“He the one I threatened?”

He nodded.

“You know the blade wasn’t actually poisoned, right?”

He nodded again. “But we needed to talk. I just...I didn’t know those four would be stupid enough to do this.”

“We’re going to have to explain to them that we know each other.”

“I’ll say you will,” The other one from the original three said, frowning at both of you.

Jin held up his hands. “Hoseok, please--”

“I get it. Not now,” Hoseok said quietly, glancing back. “But could I get the short version.”

“This is my cousin who died but not actually,” Jin replied in an almost-whisper.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “Wait, but then...you knew?!”

“Of course, but I didn’t know those four would come charging in and trip up some sort of protocol! Also, I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone that she was alive. I’m not even supposed to know! She told me when...remember when I was in that bad place?”

Hoseok became solemn at the mention of it, nodding. “We thought we lost you.”

“She came to see me. Make sure I knew I wasn’t allowed to die in case you guys hadn’t beat it into my head enough.”

“But...your family never talks about her either?” Hoseok said, frowning.

“That’s a longer story. Suffice to say, you all were going to make a very clever escape thanks to Jin after I got all the information I needed from you about who told you to kidnap me. But now….”

“Now we’re stuck,” Hoseok added, nodding. “Okay. Well…we’ll figure it out. Right, hyung?”

Jin nodded, attempting a smile, but still looking pained.

“Come on, I claimed the other room with a queen-sized bed. The kids are pitching a fit.” Hoseok took Jin’s arm and pulled him down the hall.

You followed after, noticing that Jin was careful to say all of their names at some point, silently teaching you who was who.

Jungkook was your death-threatened cutie. If the situation had been different, and you hadn’t technically been dead, you totally would have flirted with him. Tested the waters.

No way you were doing that while trapped in a bunker.

Namjoon, one of your troublemakers, cautiously approached you. “I heard you threatened them.”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m not the one that sent them to their doom. I did them a favor by taking them alive and not having the outside of the bunker armed.”

“You still threatened their lives,” He said insistently. “And I didn’t send them to their doom--”

“What would you call sending them running headfirst toward a secret government property without all of the information and then racing after them headfirst and locking them up in a bunker for fifteen years?” You asked in a sweet tone. “You’re their leader, this is your responsibility.”

He stood there, dumbstruck as you pushed past him and toward your room.

Jungkook caught you before you could go in. “You can’t talk to him like that.”

“I can talk to anyone I want, any way I want, without answering to you or anyone else,” You answered. “Not because of my job, or who I am, but because I am.”

“He didn’t send us to our doom, Jin-hyung did.”

You shook your head. “No. He tried to save you all from it.” You jerked your arm away from him and entered your room, locking it behind you when you heard him objecting.

Someone either figured out about this program and you, or they already knew about it and were planning some sort of coup d’etat. Either way, the implications of someone targeting you meant that there was a high risk of some sort of attack. You would rest until the computers were unlocked, then you would do everything you could to let your higher-ups know that you and the bunker had been compromised.

Then you would have to check and see if there was any sort of intelligence that suggested hostile takeover or attack, then follow that up by making sure you had the emergency line that would allow you to initiate the emergency protocols needed if anything were to happen to the others outside of the bunker that would need to enter the codes required to open all of the bunkers and send out the information to the citizens of your country on where the nearest bunker was.

You weren’t surprised when, about an hour after you had flopped onto the bed, the door opened and Jin squeaked in with Hoseok just behind him.

“You okay?” Jin asked, sounding concerned at seeing you flopped the way you were.

You let your head roll toward him. “Been better. Your team...they’re a piece of work.”

He shrugged, sitting on the bed as you sat up.

Hoseok followed suit.

“What do we do, y/n?” Jin asked quietly. “How can we help?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured out what to do. I have a few things I know I have to do, but...after that...if there isn’t a threat, then all I can do is monitor the situation while I try to get the rest of this place up and running so that I can get us out.”

Hoseok leaned against Jin after fidgeting a lot. “And you really think it will take at least five years?”

“There are a lot of safeguards, some of which I’m still learning. I just took over this two years ago, and one year of that was spent updating the majority of the place. There are thirty floors.” You shook your head. “Five years is optimistic, fifteen years is pessimistic, and realistic is somewhere in between.”

“Isn’t there an emergency exit or anything?” Jin asked.

You nodded slowly. “But these protocols...and that section hasn’t been updated yet. I might be able to short it out for a few seconds, but...I don't know that it would be enough for anyone to get out.”

Jin nodded, looking down at the blanket.

“It’s not your fault,” You told him gently.

Hoseok nodded his agreement, hugging Jin’s waist.

Jin sighed. “Tell that to the kids. They’re never going to trust me again.”

“Yes they will, hyung,” Hoseok said firmly, finally seeming to have gathered some resolve. “They’ll come around. Especially if we could get notification to their families…?”

You nodded. “I was trying to do that tonight, but it’s locked down for twelve hours. I should be able to figure it out in the morning.”

“There. See, it’ll be okay.”

Jin just nodded, not looking nearly as hopeful as he stared blankly at your door.

--------------

“Would you shut up?!” You snapped, turning to the bickering men. “By the almighties, I don’t know how you get anything done! There hasn’t been a moment’s peace since you arrived and I am trying to do something that requires focus. But I can’t focus with you all screaming in my ears! I will remind you that you all are the reason we’re locked in here, not me.”

Finally, silence.

Jungkook, of course, was the one to break it. “But you haven’t even told us what it is you’re trying to do.”

“I am trying to establish the secure lines to the military so that maybe, I can jump into the regular network and try to inform my superiors about how vulnerable our country is at the moment. Then I was going to try and see if we could inform your families of your whereabouts and make arrangements for your things so that you wouldn’t have to worry about that,” You told him in a falsely cheerful voice.

“Told you we should leave her alone,” Hoseok muttered, folding his arms.

Taehyung’s eyes were big, and he quickly crouched beside you to look at the screen. “Do you think it will work?”

You nodded. “If I can focus.”

He stared at the screen for a while longer, then looked up at you, almost looking like he wanted to cry. “My parents are probably already worried about me. I always call them on Thursdays.”

You nodded. “I’ll try to get this up and running as quickly as I can.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Hoseok asked.

“If one of you could bring me lunch later, I’d be grateful. Otherwise, leave me alone and let me work. Write down the messages you want sent to your families, and the best messaging method to contact them, otherwise I’ll use my government email to tell them that each of you was recruited for a secret government mission and that your ability to communicate with them will be sporadic. I’ll make it sound official, they’ll be able to confirm it. But it will also urge them to remain quiet about your whereabouts.”

“How can you do that? I mean, legally,” Jungkook asked, leaning against the edge of the desk.

“It’s within my abilities in my appointed position within the government.” You typed in another password and then started coding the next process. Then the next. Then the next.

A plate blocked your view of the screen.

You flinched back, turning to see Jungkook.

He met your gaze blankly. “You said to make sure you had lunch. You’re lucky, Namjoon-hyung and Taehyungie-hyung almost made you lunch together.”

“That bad?”

He nodded, setting the plate down on your notebook. “How’s that going?”

“Well, at the rate I’m working, I might be patched through by tomorrow morning. If I don’t sleep. There are a lot of protocols to work around, and I need to be careful with a lot of this because one wrong move and I get locked out and I have to start all over again. Thankfully, there are stopping points where I can work without worrying about timing out. So if I do need to leave for a while I can.” You sighed, and leaned back as you stretched. You hadn’t even noticed them leave you.

Jungkook pulled up a chair and sat down, studying you.

You cracked your neck then met his gaze. “Yes?”

He looked down, then back, taking a deep breath. “It’s Jin-hyung’s fault.”

You groaned and dropped your head into your hands. “Gods almighty and merciless, couldn’t you have just struck me down where I sit instead of making me deal with these idiots!”

“It is his fault!”

“No!” You objected, meeting his gaze again. “Because if you all had listened to him, then you all would have stayed away from here, and he would have come to talk to me alone. Then I could have made sure our country was safe from attack while not being locked in this bunker and you all wouldn’t have had to serve time in jail or leave the country or be locked in here!”

He scowled. “How do you know--”

“He’s my cousin!” You snapped. “He knew the moment he saw my picture that this wasn’t a good idea, didn’t he?”

The scowl melted into alarm, shock, and disbelief, before settling into shock and horror.

“He said from the moment that he saw my picture that you guys shouldn’t take the job. That it was suicide. That it was too dangerous. Who listened to him, Jungkook?” You asked, getting up and pacing. “None of you, because otherwise this wouldn’t be happening. We wouldn’t be talking. I’d be finding the person who somehow found my picture and my identity when I was wiped from all of the systems and declared dead to the world.”

“What do you mean...he’s your cousin?” Jungkook asked, sounding faint.

You dropped into the chair again, glaring at him a little. “Our parents are related, this makes us cousins.”

“But why wouldn’t he say anything!”

“Because he’s not supposed to know that I’m alive! No one is. My parents died years ago, I was raised mostly with my father’s side of the family, but Seokjin and I knew each other well enough because we spent a couple years as neighbors when I was just entering college. He looked out for me. I knew about him being a thief. I took my grandfather’s job, because it's family work. This place. Jin only knows because I heard about him being in the hospital a couple years ago and went to make sure he knew he wasn’t allowed to die.”

Jungkook frowned at the floor. “He could have told us.”

“Really? You think so? You don’t think that he would be questioned to death and then the suggestion of still taking me as a sort of willing hostage to get the payout wouldn’t have come up?” You folded your arms.

He took a deep breath, then sighed. “It would have.”

“Your problem is with Jin. Talk to him. No. Listen to him.” You turned back to the computer and started typing entering code again. “Thanks for the food.”

He was quiet for a while, then he silently got up and left.

You waited until you heard the elevator doors close before you looked after him. He probably didn’t deserve your anger, but you were so frustrated and he presented himself as a target.

And he was just so frustrating.

But a decent cook.

And he returned at dinner time, this time blocking your view with a bottle of water.

“I did hear you walking over. This time,” You murmured, pushing it away to finish the section you were on and get to a safe place to pause.

“We made dinner. Hoseok-hyung sent me to get you. Said you should take a break.”

“So they sent you? Or you volunteered?”

He was quiet, then he grabbed the empty plate that had been set aside a long time ago. “Maybe both.”

You glanced at him.

He shrugged in your peripherals. “I talked to Hoseok-hyung. He explained a little more. It doesn’t mean that Jin-hyung doesn’t have a lot to answer for, but I understand a little more why he didn’t just tell us. How Hoseokie-hyung found out, I don’t know.”

“Oh, they’re totally sleeping together.”

“Well, they’re sharing a room and a bed.”

“No, Jungkook. They’re sleeping together,” You said again, stressing the word ‘sleeping’.

He frowned. “Hoseok-hyung and Jin-hyung?”

You nodded. “Why else would they decide to share a room when there are more than enough rooms for them to have their own?”

“I thought they just agreed on it because Hoseok was trying to support Jin since I was mad at him and because then they’d have a private bathroom.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yep. That played into it. But, uh, mostly the bed sharing.”

He looked shocked.

“You okay there?” You asked, waiting for him to respond.

He blinked a few times, then met your gaze, slowly nodding. “So...Hobi-hyung wasn’t flirting with you.”

You frowned. “When?”

He shook his head suddenly and quickly walked toward the elevator. “Nevermind. Come on. I don’t want to eat cold food.”

You double-checked your progress, then followed after him, enduring the awkward elevator ride and leaving it before him to follow your nose to something that smelled good. If it smelled good, it had a good chance of tasting good as well.

Jungkook stayed surprisingly close as you followed your nose into the kitchen.

The other boys were pretty quiet, unusually quiet from your limited experience and how tense Jin seemed to be.

Jungkook went straight up to Hoseok, latching onto him in a back-hug but seeming troubled, not responding when Hoseok asked him something in a silly tone.

Namjoon carefully carried a platter over to the table, and the others pulled platters and pots to the table surface as well.

You felt out of place, like you shouldn’t exist, which was something you hadn’t felt in years. This was your home, more so than the house you lived in during the week. More than your family home, where your grandparents had raised you--which stopped being your home when they passed.

Jin met your gaze, smiling softly. “Come sit with us.”

Taehyung noticed you then and grinned as well, gesturing to the table. “We cooked!”

You smiled and went over, letting Taehyung present everything they had cooked, but somehow you met Jungkook’s gaze.

He had some sort of determined glint in his eye that scared you.

Because the moment everyone was sitting, and had food, he met your gaze again, then looked at Seokjin.

“So, were you planning on telling us that you were related to her? Or were we just supposed to figure that out on our own?”

Silence.

Jin was frozen, food halfway to his mouth.

Hoseok was staring at Jungkook in disbelief. “I told you not to say anything.”

Jungkook just shrugged, still staring at Jin.

Taehyung coughed a bit, looking decently shocked.

Yoongi’s eyes were closed.

“Well, hyung? Were you just going to live in these lies? Leave us in the dark? Lie to us, your supposed family? Or did you lie about us being family too?”

“Don’t you ever suggest that I lied about us being a family,” Seokjin said darkly, glaring at Jungkook. “Ever.”

“He’s right. That was out of line, Jungkook. Jin-hyung loves us more than anyone,” Namjoon said, but his voice was quiet and he sounded a little lost.

Jungkook opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off.

After the spoon clattered to the table, you got up and went over, leaning on the table to get in his face. “I’m going to say this one. Last. time. Fail to listen this time, and there will be one less mouth to feed in this bunker. As a matter of national security, no one was to know that I was alive or even that I existed--including Seokjin. I broke those rules, and I had to work for six months afterward to convince the government not to have him brought in or dealt with in some other nasty fashion. And by the way, you were also on that list of people they believed they would need to kill to keep me secret. Your whole team was. And if your team had acted like one, and listened to Jin, then he would have come here on his own while you all were busy and warned me and then none of this would have happened. As it was, you all were going to make a clever escape and quite possibly flee the country. Now, I am sick and tired of you acting like a baby and digging up things you already knew about. The world does not revolve around you. Grow up.”

Large hands gently rested on your shoulder and opposite arm, then gently pulled you away. “Y/n. Come on.”

You pushed off the table and followed Seokjin out of the dining area, still fuming.

The door closed behind you two, and he stopped in the kitchen, messing around with some of the dishes. “Jungkook doesn’t mean any harm, not really. He’s not normally like this.”

You just scoffed.

But you both could hear the conversation in the next room.

“What the hell was that, Jungkook?” Namjoon asked. “Why would you do that to Jin-hyung?”

“I told you...she told you...why...what….” Hoseok sounded dazed.

“You’re hurting him, Jungkook,” Taehyung added. “She’s right, it’s our fault the doors closed. And maybe he could have tried harder to convince us….”

“But we weren’t listening. We all dismissed what he said. It was only later that you and Hobi became aware of the dangers of this mission, and Jin-hyung was the one who told you that it was dangerous. Hobi-hyung even said that Jin-hyung tried to get you two to let him scout the place out alone.” Jimin’s voice was soft, considerate.

You met Jin’s gaze.

Jin closed his eyes and looked down at the dishes he’d gathered up for washing, just listening.

“Right, because Hoseok-hyung isn’t biased anyway,” Jungkook snorted.

Your head snapped up, and you felt your heart start to race.

But it was quiet.

No one seemed to respond or react.

“Jungkook. This is my fault. Not hyung’s,” Namjoon finally said in a firm voice. One that brooked no argument. “I was the one who received the job. I was the one who talked everyone into accepting it when we have an all-or-none system. I was the one who dismissed Jin-hyung’s concerns. And I was the one that activated the protocol that locked us in here. We’re going to talk in private after we finish eating. Jimin, could you take them their plates? Maybe eat with them? I don’t want them to feel like we’re all against them.”

You and Jin exchanged panicked looks and hurried away before hearing the response, setting into one of the couches, angled toward each other.

Jin took your hand. “Y/n, please, don’t take Jungkook’s actions toward me into account when you’re forming your opinions. He’s always rebelled against me. He knows I can take it.”

“Can you?”

He nodded. “The only thing I can’t take is him saying I don’t love them. I don’t...I guess I haven’t been as forthright as I thought if he doubts that.”

You leaned back against the cushion, debating within yourself. “I’m going to have to see a difference before I believe that there is one. I thought...maybe, after our earlier conversation that things would have settled. I’m sorry I even told him those things, though. I didn’t mean to.”

“He would have been upset no matter who told him.” Jin shrugged.

A couple seconds later, Jimin came in with all three plates, looking pretty pleased with himself over his balancing skills.

You helped him. “Thanks.”

He nodded, sitting next to Jin. “I’ve never seen Jungkook this worked up about something. Normally he just broods and sort of puzzles it out on his own.”

Jin shrugged. “We’re all stressed and in a situation that’s not like any we’ve ever experienced before. I’d rather he take it out on me. I can handle it. I did what I could.”

Jimin hugged him, then went back to eating, partially getting Jin to feed him like a baby bird. He made light conversation the rest of the time, both of them telling you stories of their heists (after Jin confirmed that it couldn’t do them any harm).

Jungkook passed through, catching your gaze and holding it for a second before he went toward the hallway, to his room.

And you would never be able to put it into words what it was you saw in his face, but it made you set down your plate and follow him.

“Y/n?” Jin called after you.

You looked back and shook your head, then continued to the doorway of the room Jungkook had gone into.

He’d left it open, and was sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees, obviously waiting for you. He sat up straight as you walked in and sat on the bunk across from him.

“Well?” You asked quietly.

“I need to explain.”

You took a deep breath and grabbed the pillow, hugging it.

“Ever...ever since I was young...it’s just been hyungs and me. But the moment we were here...hyung was different. He was so...small.”

“Fear does that. Fear can make an idiot out of anyone.”

The corner of his mouth curved up. “Thanks for calling me an idiot.”

You shrugged. “Seems appropriate. Anyway, you were saying that you’ve been picking fights with Jin to try and get him back to normal.”

“You...wow.” He looked a little surprised. “You’re smart.”

“I have a couple degrees and certificates. It’s part of my job. I have to study the human psyche so that I know how to decorate this place and what might be needed to prevent people from mentally breaking down.” You shrugged, then hugged the pillow tighter. “I was trained to be alone. You all weren’t. But you were saying.”

“Oh. Right. Um...I just...I want him to be who he always is with us, but he just seems different and normally he would be goofing around with us and playfully bickering. He wouldn’t be this serious or worried.” He was twisting a ring on his hand, drawing your attention to his tattoos. “We’ve always relied upon him, and if we weren’t so freaked out...any other time it would be okay. He should be able to freak out. But Taehyungie-hyung and Jiminie-hyung were crying last night. And Yoongi-hyung, he pretends it doesn’t get to him, but it does. And Namjoonie-hyung...he’s our leader, but he’s always had hyung to...support him and hold him up--even if they aren’t in agreement over whatever decision Namjoonie-hyung has made and Jin-hyung has reluctantly agreed to.”

“So you thought poking and prodding at him might make him go back to normal. But you forgot to factor in what it was you normally bickered about. Plain, everyday things, not things like family, and not in situations like this.”

He nodded. “Kind of figured that out when you hit me in the head with a spoon.”

“You’re lucky that’s what I was holding at the time,” You muttered, laying back.

“I know, Hoseok hyung just about had a panic attack when he saw the knife that was sitting at your place, right beside where the spoon had been.”

You sat up again. “So, we’re good?”

“What?”

“You’re done with this nonsense and you’re going to talk to Jin like an adult?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He looked uncomfortable. “I guess. If I have to.”

You rolled your eyes.

He smirked slightly, looking at his hands again.

“What?”

“Is one of the things you learned how to make people comfortable around you and how to be comfortable around people?”

“Mmm, I wish there were classes, then I could pretend I have some idea of what I’m doing more often.”

“Then how come you can talk to me and I can talk to you like we’ve known each other for years?” He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, gazing into your eyes with a strange sort of boldness that seemed both taunting, alluring, but also fleeting--as though any moment he might lose that bit of courage that made him ask, and retreat even though this was the room he was sleeping in.

You gaped for a second, but you couldn’t figure out a good response. Because it was unusual. You would never act like this, not even with those people you once considered your friends. Maybe with your family, but not strangers.

Not Jungkook.

And yet, Jungkook.

“I...don’t know. Maybe you remind me of someone...or something...or maybe you’ve pushed me just a little too far.” You set the pillow aside, feigning a little confidence.

Suddenly he moved to sit next to you, facing you and in your space. “Or maybe it’s something else.”

And you know, it’s been forever since you were this close to an attractive man. Or talked to an attractive man.

So you froze, panicking, and then made a strangled noise and you were leaving the room before you knew what you were doing and scoffing. “No, I think you just got on my nerves.”

“Hey,” He said, quickly catching you, licking his lips and then chewing them as if suddenly nervous. “I...I was wondering...is there any way you could give us something to do? And maybe...take a break to show us where things are? We were all going a little crazy today.”

You nodded, a little surprised by the warmth of his large hand on your shoulder and his returned proximity. “Yeah, I’ll...make a list of things that need to be done that others can do, and then we can all discuss what you’re able to do. And we can do a quick tour in the morning.”

He smiled a little hesitantly.

You smiled back, then continued out of the room, back to the living space, but your heart was still racing from that little smile. And his hand. Dear mercy, that was a nice hand. Big and warm and strong….

No. Nope, you couldn’t fantasize about him. You were trapped with him. Fifteen years was a long time if things didn’t go well between the two of you.

Fifteen years with that incubus.

Just rocket science. No big deal.

Masterlist ~ Jungkook Masterpost

Tagging: @missmoxxiesworld @bryvada @i-dont-even-know-fck @knjhe @alex--awesome--22

#Jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #Reader x Jungkook #jeon jungkook #theives!au #bts #bts fic #2seok #seokjin #hoseok #namjoon #yoongi #jimin #taehyung

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bookdancerfics · 4 years ago

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in the summer day, a BNHA Whumptober fic

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

Summary: Kirishima’s never been held hostage before now, but it’s not something he’s a fan of, especially when his quirk isn’t working.

Warnings: non-consensual drug use (temporary quirk destroying drug), guns

Rated T, Kiribaku, 1.7k+ Words. cross-posted to ao3 and ff.net (Bookdancer)

Maybe it’s cliché, but Kirishima’s day doesn’t start terribly. They’re a quarter of the way through their third year at UA, and after so long living with each other Class 3-A knows everyone else’s habits as well as they’ll ever know anyone’s. Bakugou and Midoriya are the first to rise, almost as if they enjoy making it a competition just to see who can reach the kitchen, and breakfast, the fastest. This is true whether it’s a weekday or a weekend. On Saturdays, like today, Kirishima is one of the last ones down, Fatgum’s agency being closer than most allowing him to sleep in.

Once downstairs, already dressed in his hero uniform, he greets the other slow goers—Ashido, Uraraka, and Aoyama have similarly close internships, and Shinsou’s hours run later as an underground hero, though he’s not always up by now.

“Morning, Red Riot!” Uraraka says. Like him, she’s already in uniform, her helmet at the end of the table as she eats.

“Morning, Uravity!” Kirishima pokes his head into the fridge and grabs a covered plate with a sticky note on it. It reads RR, all you other extras BACK OFF, and Kirishima can’t help but grin when he sees it.

“Someone’s got a crush,” Aoyama teases, smiling. He’s at the table with Uraraka, right across from Ashido. Shinsou is the only one missing of their group, likely still sleeping.

Kirishima’s grin only widens; he and Bakugou have been dating since they were second years. “That’s been established, are we still making the same jokes?”

Ashido cackles and throws a grape at him, and Kirishima catches it in his mouth, laughing, before pulling the saran wrap off the plate and starting in on his food.

Their small group doesn’t separate till the train station, Ashido and Uraraka heading off together while Aoyama and Kirishima go solo. When Kirishima finally arrives at Fatgum’s agency he finds the place in organized chaos. Fatgum waves him over with a grim smile, already leading the group out the door, and Kirishima falls in place next to Suneater.

“We’re teaming up with Miruko and The Lurkers,” Fatgum explains. “There’s been a series of heists at high-end labs recently that Kamui Woods got a lead on, and we’re going in on what we believe to be their hideout.”

Kirishima nods, bouncing a little on his toes as he walks. It’s been awhile since he participated in a large hero team-up, and with Bakugou with Miruko and Kaminari and Sero both with The Lurkers, it will also be one of the first times he works as a hero with so many of his best friends at once. And, like the beginning of his day, the start of the raid goes well. The group of thieves are hidden out in a large, bunker style building with multiple corridors and places to get lost, so the pro-heroes separate everyone off into groups to search the place. As third years they’re allowed a bit more leniency and trust, and Kaminari and Sero go off together while Kirishima joins Bakugou.

They take the back half of the second floor, Fatgum and Edgeshot in the front. Kirishima knows they’re staying close by on the off chance there’s trouble but, despite the fact that The Lurkers had reported their information with utter confidence, they don’t see much of anyone besides the dark grey halls and even darker doorways. Bakugou fiddles with one of his bracers, and Kirishima repeatedly switches his quirk on and off.

“Just our luck no one will show, huh?” Bakugou says, scowling.

Kirishima just smiles at him. “C’mon, Blasty, it’s not so bad. We can’t be the ones to save the day every day, after all.”

“Course we can,” Bakugou scoffs. His lips are twitching, though, like he wants to smile but won’t, and Kirishima bumps shoulders with him, grinning.

He turns, going to check the next room, and finds himself face to face with someone he’s only seen in the packet Fatgum gave him that very afternoon. Stunned, Kirishima lets out a shout and barges into the room. He’s just activating his quirk when something sharp pierces his neck and he reels back, one hand clamped over the puncture wound. Bakugou roars by him, obviously pissed, and Kirishima stumbles to a halt with his back to the corridor wall. He still has the perfect view of the room inside, of Bakugou fighting amidst his explosions, of the villain answering back with some sort of scale quirk. Kirishima gets a glimpse of claws, and teeth, and from there it’s easy to guess that the guy shares a bit more in common with alligators than the average person.

A syringe drops from the tussle and rolls to a stop in the doorway—empty.

Kirishima stares at it. Much like the alligator quirk, it’s not hard to connect the dots. Whatever was in the syringe is now running through Kirishima’s veins, and whatever it is can’t be anything good. He tests his quirk, just in case, and his heart sinks when his skin doesn’t harden. But all he can do now is hope it’s not permanent, and Bakugou needs his help, so he gets to his feet ready to dive back into the fray.

A gun answers him.

“My luck is terrible today,” Kirishima says, staring at the guy behind the gun. Like alligator-quirk-guy, he’s scaly, but his tongue flicks out, forked, obviously belonging to a snake.

“C’mon, then,” Snake says. He flicks the gun briefly, pointing Kirishima back to the room with Bakugou. Alligator is almost down, and Kirishima winces, knowing Bakugou would normally win this fight. But the gun presses at his forehead, cold, and there’s not a lot he can do.

Bakugou doesn’t stop fighting when he steps into the room, or when the gun follows. Kirishima wishes he could see Snake’s face, or at least wait for Bakugou to take down Alligator, but the gun presses harder against his head, forcing him to either catch Bakugou’s attention or wait for the gun to actually go off. And as much as he trusts his quirk to catch most of the damage of a bullet, he’s not very fond of the idea of trying it out without his quirk.

“Ground Zero,” he says, and Bakugou stops, deflecting one last blow from Alligator and then turning. His gaze flicks from Kirishima, to the gun, to Alligator, Snake, and then Kirishima again. Kirishima tries to smile, but judging by the way Bakugou’s hands start to set off mini explosions, he’s not entirely successful.

“Shitty Hair,” Bakugou answers.

The gun shoves against Kirishima’s head, jolting him forward a bit.

“Red here has something to say,” Snake sneers.

Kirishima swallows. “They took away my quirk.”

Bakugou’s gaze goes to the syringe, his skin paling, and Kirishima hates that he’s done this, that he’s reduced Bakugou to some chess piece to be moved around. But with Snake so focused on him, there’s not a lot either of them can do.

“We’ll be going now,” Snake says. “If either of you try anything, I blow Red’s brains out.”

“It’s Red Riot, jackass,” Bakugou snaps. In the next moment he’s moving, though, walking past Snake all while shooting the crook a dirty look.

They go down the hall in a line, Bakugou and then Kirishima, Snake with the gun at Kirishima’s head, and finally Alligator. This is where the villains made a mistake, though, because the second Kirishima spots Fatgum at the end of the corridor he stops being complicit.

He shoves himself forward, taking Bakugou to the floor with him. As he goes there’s a loud bang behind him, a burst of pain above one ear, and Bakugou howls his outrage. Kirishima doesn’t really see where the bullet goes, isn’t sure if it lodges in a wall or ceiling or if Fatgum catches it, harmless, but he and Bakugou are still alive and he counts that as a win, especially with Fatgum storming their way, Edgeshot on his heels, and Bakugou rolling to his feet.

Kirishima doesn’t even bother getting up; he throws himself at Snake’s ankles, taking him out like an American football player. Even without his quirk, even with his head pounding and ears ringing and blood dripping hot to his neck, it’s incredibly satisfying to kick the gun away and restrain Snake. When he looks up Edgeshot is already securing Alligator and Bakugou looks angry about not getting one last hit in.

“Riot,” Fatgum says, and Kirishima turns to look at him, grinning even as he wobbles.

“Hey, Fat. We got ‘em.”

Fatgum’s returning smile is strained, but he claps Kirishima on the shoulder. “Give Edgeshot your man, you should go get checked out. Ground Zero and I will finish up here.”

Bakugou gives Fatgum an angry look, probably not happy about being separated from Kirishima, but even Bakugou knows by now that he shouldn’t let a fellow hero go off alone. Kirishima’s kind of proud of him for that.

“I’ll see you outside, bro, promise,” Kirishima says. He holds out his hand for a fist-bump, still doing his best to smile.

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Stop calling me bro, Shitty Hair,” he grumbles, but he bumps his fist against Kirishima’s and Kirishima knows the real complaint here is not “we’re not bros,” but “why are you calling me bro when we’re dating,” which he can kind of understand. But—

“Never,” he says, and Bakugou’s lips curve just slightly upward.

In the end there’s not a lot else to do; the other three villains in the heist crew are secured on the first and third floor, and Bakugou fusses over Kirishima all the way to the hospital, not that Bakugou would ever admit to it. But he holds Kirishima’s hand tighter than he normally would, and refuses to leave his side again, not even once. And, after the bullet graze has already been healed by a doctor’s quirk and he asks, something full in his chest, if Bakugou will kiss it better, Bakugou only rolls his eyes once before pressing his lips to the new scar.

“How does it look?” Kirishima asks.

Bakugou hums, squeezes his hand. “Badass. Just like you.”

And hey. He’s stuck in yet another hospital bed, but maybe Kirishima’s day doesn’t end terribly, either.

#whumptober2020 #no.3 #held at gunpoint #boku no hero academia #fic #non-consensual drug use tw #guns tw #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kiribaku #bnha fic #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero fanfic #my fic #mine

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kashimos-hajime · 5 years ago

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wake me up | amaranthine (4/6) | b.b.

summary: A mended heart is stronger every time it breaks.

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, fluff and tenderness, painful treatment practices, blood, tony’s a cute baby, implications of smut :^) pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.2k

a/n: written for @the-omni-princess for her writing challenge and inspired by @the-darklings who writes such heart-wrenching scenes concerning john and vipress (my WIFE) and also by the film marriage story. vibe song is the cover of wake me up by fleurie and tommee lee profitt.

amaranthine masterlist

So wake me up when it's all over When I'm wiser and I'm older All this time I was finding myself And I didn't know I was lost You wake, lurching forward as your hand flies to your breast. Cloth meets your palm and you swallow the foul taste in your mouth, sweat dappling your skin and gathering in your throat and underneath your arms and breasts. The figments of your nightmares disappear like ashes in the wind, and you try to catch your breath, your mind reeling. You don’t recall walking back to bed, nor dressing the wound on your chest.

You’d been too exhausted to do anything more but tape some gauze to your chest and settle in the chair in case Bucky needed something

Bucky.

Your heart wilts at the mere thought of him, and everything inside you empties out when you look around your room in your base. He must’ve been the one to bring you here. Has he gone?

Pushing yourself up, you swing your legs carefully off the bed and lean over to turn on the lamp. The light shining on your clock shows a bitter 4 AM, and you sigh, rubbing at your face. Saturday morning and you’re up at 4 AM.

Saturday. You roll the word over in your head, nearly groaning once you’ve realized what you promised to do. Howard could not have chosen a worse weekend for you to look after his son, but you are not about to let Tony down, and although you want nothing more than to throw yourself into bed, sleep off yesterday and today and every other day until your chest doesn’t feel like a massive bruise, you get up.

You have a call to make.

Standing in the corner store, you scour the aisles for cans. If you’re staying in the safe house, you’ll need to stock up once again. You pluck a can of tomato paste and add it to your basket where pasta, soup, bread, eggs, milk and meat already lay. Medical supplies await you in the backroom, and you debate the possibility of making two trips to save your right side some grief. No. It’ll be a waste of time, you chide yourself. You pay these agents for a reason.

The bell above the door chimes and you freeze.

“Sir, we’re not open yet.” The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who’d been waiting in the backroom comes out and you shift closer to the shelves, your hand reaching for the heaviest can in your basket.

“The Doctor asked me to meet her here.”

Edwin. A wave of relief rushes through you show yourself to both the agent and Edwin, who soaks in your appearance carefully. His eyes flutter from your face, ragged and pale, to the white blouse you’ve pulled on. Beneath it, you know he can see the white bandages still wrapped firmly to your chest. You wonder if he can smell the sewage clinging onto your skin. You’ve grown so used to it by now that you can hardly tell if you reek.

Your eyes meet his, and you swallow with a sigh.

You walk forward to set down the basket on the counter, tilting your head to the agent to signal for him to begin packing it up for you, and Edwin sighs, adjusting the child in his arms. Leaning slightly against the counter, you look out the windows, at the very beginnings of dawn. It’ll be a few hours yet before the sun rises, and you can hardly believe a day has passed. It feels like only hours ago you hauled a broken soldier back to the safe house.

“I wasn’t aware there was another S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house in Brooklyn,” Edwin begins softly, and your lips press together in a grim smile.

“There isn’t. This one’s mine. Howard insisted on keeping agents posted just in case trouble arose.” Your eyes flicker back to Edwin, and then to Tony. “How is he?”

“Running a slight fever, although he’s been sleeping like a rock through the night. He was quite excited to hear he would be spending time with you, although I assume you’re not quite up to the task?” Edwin’s head tilts and you smile weakly. “I can always stay home, Doctor.”

“No, Edwin, I promised. I—” You throw your arm up, letting it fall without a care. Shaking your head, you try to search for the words— “I need something to go right. The past twenty-four hours… I can’t stay in that place with him.” You feel strangely numb to saying the words and he reaches forward to touch your hand on the countertop. You let him do so, twisting your hand to offer your palm. His fingers grasp yours firmly as if silently telling you you can do this and you bow your head.

“Who, ma’am?”

“Someone… someone I thought was dead. I can’t tell you, I’m so sorry.” You raise your head wretchedly to your friend, and his eyes, warm and comforting, soothe an icy wave that crawls down your spine. “Ghosts make terrible friends.”

“You needn’t explain it to me.”

“Doctor.” The agent returns with your bag, his figure looming at the door to the backroom and you glance at the darkness, your fingers numb as you remember jumping into the sewers with a bleeding man behind you. You stare at him for a moment, taking a deep breath as you try to fortify yourself. He might be awake by now, or maybe he’s gone.

He’d been fast asleep when you’d checked on him this morning, and the absolute agony that had torn through your soul had blinded you, to see him sleeping so peacefully between sheets that never had his name marked into them.

You know when he leaves—and he will, you know it is inevitable that everyone will leave—you’ll never be able to sleep in that bed again.

“Ma’am.”

You blink, and the agent’s eyebrows are furrowed together as he stares back, too respectful to break the contest.

“You should go,” Edwin’s gentle voice snags your attention and you turn back to him, lost. “Even ghosts get lonely.”

You reach for Tony and take him with your left arm. His tiny arms latch around your neck and you let out a tiny breath at the familiar weight that settles on you. Tony’s gentle breaths puff against your ear and you kiss his cheek. “He’s asleep, Edwin. I’m sure I can afford a few more minutes of life unhaunted.” Although you mean it to be teasing and a forced smile does make its way onto your face, you see the concern etched onto Edwin’s face and know you need to face the reality of your situation. In the quiet morning, you can pretend you did not find the man you’ve fallen in love with an odd thirty years ago. In the quiet mornings, you can pretend you did not defile your sanctuary, bringing him there.

“I wasn’t talking about him.”

I’m. Not. Lonely. A stiff lump sits in your throat and your smile falls off like a bird shot mid flight. Tightening your grip on Tony, you clench your jaw and walk around the counter towards the agent. He hands you the supplies and you sling it onto your right shoulder with a slight grunt. Staring at the darkness before you, you give yourself a moment to remember why you have lived all these years. Before you descend down into the pathway that will lead you back to your past, you turn back to Edwin.

“Good morning, Mr. Jarvis, and have a good day.”

“And you as well, Doctor.”

Kissing Tony goodnight, or good morning, you pull back from the old crib and retreat to the door, turning off the lights and closing the door until it is barely open an inch. Your stomach grumbles, but you keep your hand on the knob, just listening to his tiny breaths fill the room before you tear yourself away.

The first thing you did as a founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. was buy this building, and you’ve spent decades, walking through the building that has changed tenants more times than you can count. No matter what, you always leave one loft empty. You don’t care what Howard or Peggy say about letting go. Ever since Mama Barnes passed, you don’t have the heart to fill up a place where you’ve found pieces of Bucky with those who might wash him away.

You’d planned to visit yesterday for his birthday. Instead, you hide away in the safe house you had built right beneath the building with the man you’ve been grieving over sleeping just at the end of the hallway.

Grabbing your medicinal bag from your room, you head to the kitchen and sit down, digging out some supplies for you to properly take care of your wound. You peel off your shirt, the lights casting your skin in an oily gold as you carefully begin to undo the bandages around your chest.

Does he remember who I am? Your thoughts grow torrential as the silence of the safe house grows unnerving. Or does he only know me as a past mission, if even that? Did H.Y.D.R.A. wipe his mind so completely that he can never come back to me? Will he stay if given the chance? Who does he work for? H.Y.D.R.A. is nothing but ashes now. The KGB? The Soviet Union? The thought makes you nauseous. Or perhaps he works for anyone willing to pay.

You still remember that night in 1949. Only two days prior, an attempt on your life had sent Colonel Phillips to issue an entourage that would follow you and check your home every night before you entered, and you’d been at your wit’s end. You could not fathom why an attempt on your life had to be made, when there were others—Howard, Peggy, the Colonel—who were more important to S.H.I.E.L.D. than you ever could be.

You are just a doctor, after all, and yet someone wanted to kill you.

And he had been standing there, black mask muzzling him like some dog, dark iron wire hair that separated him from your world, and those eyes that screamed of a caged animal. Eyes you would never forget as he grabbed you with an unseen speed and threw you onto your bed. Eyes that caused you to recognize him twenty years later, still feeling the rush of wind as the knife dug into the mattress beside your ear.

The only reason you still live is the fact that the super-soldier serum had given your leg enough muscle to launch him through the window and gave you enough time to hide away here. In this safe house.

You blink and glance at your chest, at the red hole that has closed on your back but still gapes on your chest, and sigh. Too many attempts on your life have been made and only his eyes have been burned into your head. You close your eyes for a moment, a knot in the middle of your head causing an ache that begins to throb as you try to focus. You know you must get some sleep. Your body protests as you grab the bottle of iodine from your bag and a towel.

Stuffing the towel into your mouth, you feel your gag reflex revolt at the intrusion and your whole stomach convulses painfully. The dryness of the cloth causes tears to spring into your eyes as it continues to poke at the back of your throat, and you twist off the cap of the bottle, your lungs struggling to prepare themselves for the searing pain that is about to seep into your bones. You grab onto the edge of the chair, trying to steel yourself.

This is the life you chose, a voice inside your head chastises just as you raise the bottle to your chest.

You tip iodine into the hole a bullet left in you and the pain—agony in its ripest form—rips you into pieces. Your nerves sing as they are burned alive, and your flesh recoils as iodine and alcohol slosh through your blood. Your teeth clenched around the towel, a muffled scream tears its way through your throat as you continue to pour a steady, small stream onto the gunshot wound. Your eyes squeezed shut, hot tears begin to race over your sweating skin as your back arches off the chair, head tossed back in torture.

The pain begins to dull into a pulsing fire as it drips down your chest, and you slam the bottle back onto the table, letting out a ragged groan as you thread the needle with practiced fingers. Pushing yourself up and leaning heavily into the chair, you begin the heartrending chore of sewing your flesh back together, and you begin to feel strangely numb to it all. You weave the needle through your skin and muscle, and you don’t feel any of it. Perhaps it is the fire of iodine that has made you numb or the exhaustion adding to the adrenaline that is no doubt pumping through your body, but you just sew mechanically until it is done, tying a knot with one hand and snipping the excess thread within minutes.

Perhaps being a doctor is good for one thing after all.

Covering the wound again, you get up and clean off the iodine that’s dripped down your body and the table with the towel from your mouth, the pain slowly draining away. You carefully slip into the blouse, your stomach grumbling once again, and you decide despite the hour, you need to eat.

Besides the groceries you’d just retrieved from the store, you rifle through the shelves for whatever you can scrape together, and you nearly grin at the ingredients. It’s a tired almost-smile that barely makes its way into your cheeks, but you just want to forget all that’s happened.

You turn the radio on the countertop, and pull flour, sugar, eggs, and milk onto your workspace as some tune begins to fill the empty air. Softly, it weaves into your ears and you let out a relieved sigh.

Waffles and bacon—Mama Barnes always said it was her boy’s favourite.

As you set your plate of waffles and bacon down and head to grab your hot cup of coffee, you hear a door from the end of the wall open with a subtle click. Ignoring the sound, you take a long pull, letting the black coffee run through your chilly blood before setting it down next to your plate. You hear his footsteps come down the hallway as you go to grab another plate. He lingers by the door and you set down the second plate before turning around to finally notice him.

His hair is wild around his face, and he looks around blearily, a softness to his usually hard eyes. He’s mainly exposed from the chest up, save for the thing he carries. A red and yellow thing you recognize as your godson.

Of course Tony sneaks out of his bed.

You let out a short breath of disbelief, eyebrows knitting together at the tender way the soldier carries the two-year old. Like a fragile sack of potatoes, or perhaps a regular sack of potatoes. He no doubt looks awkward and you approach him to save him.

“May I?” you begin quietly and he nods with a small swallow. His eyes search your face for a moment, and you take Tony from the man’s arms. “I’m sorry if he woke you.”

“He didn’t,” is the curt response you receive. Your soft smile doesn't falter as you settle the boy in your arms and turn to the table.

“Help yourself to breakfast, and the coffee.” You move to walk past him, your head ducked against Tony’s cheek, but a warm hand touches your wrist tentatively and you whirl around, your heart lurching into your throat.

“I wanted to speak to you,” he begins, eyes wide as he soaks in the wariness that must be on display on your own face. “If that would be alright with you.”

“Of course.” You swallow down the knot. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You don’t need to call me that,” you say. Not so seriously. Never as a show of power imbalance. We are equals, you and I. He does not hear your thoughts and he does not reply. He pulls his hand away and walks to the table, and you watch him go with a quaint sensation of something falling in your chest.

You walk down the hall and put Tony to bed, and you nearly smile at how he seems to wriggle in his sleep back towards you.

“Stay in bed this time, Tony. No wandering back into my room. A guest is staying there,” you whisper against his forehead and he rolls away from your lips just as you press a little kiss against his temple. Smiling to yourself, you pull back and shut the door this time with a soft click.

Returning to the kitchen, you notice him sitting at the table, poking at the plate with a fork and you grab yourself another set of cutlery, sitting down across from him with a quirk of your lip. Despite the slight unease coiling in your gut, you want him to speak to you first—to open up. You want to know everything you’ve missed.

“How’s your gunshot?” he asks, peering up at you through strands of his hair. You perk up, forcing the smile into your cheeks.

“Healing. How are you feeling? You took a hell of a beating,” you return and he experimentally shifts in his seat with a slight shrug. “I want to check on your stitches again later.”

“What happened? Where are we?” You notice he doesn’t touch the food and you pick up your own cutlery. Perhaps if you show that it’s okay… that he’s safe… he will follow suit to do however he pleases. You cut the waffle and place it into your mouth, testing your own cooking skills with a pleased result. Swallowing, you watch as he stops poking at the food on his plate and begins to eat.

“After we left the cemetery, you were barely conscious from blood loss and pain. We managed to hide in an alleyway before I found a manhole into the sewers and I brought us here. It’s my own safe house; barely anyone knows about it.”

“You trust me enough to bring me here?”

“What other choice did I have? I couldn’t let you die.” Your eyes fall to the greasy bacon on your plate and you fill your mouth to avoid talking any more. Bucky stares at you for a moment and you feel the weight of his gaze rest on your shoulders before he looks down. The scrape of his fork against the porcelain fills the silence and you try to figure out how to even broach the subject. You feel empty, as if everything you knew has been scooped out of you and replaced with sand.

You’re not hungry anymore.

“You should’ve.” You have no answer to the vileness in his voice—the hatred you don’t understand the meaning of. “I remember you,” he continues, dangerously quiet. “I tried to kill you in 1949.”

“Yes, well, seems something’s not letting you pull the final trigger,” you reply. You sip on your coffee and he watches you with an emotion you cannot quite decipher. It makes you squirm—it makes you sick. “Is that all you know me from?”

“You said my name is Bucky.”

“It is.” You set your cup down. You can do this. “Your name is James Buchunan Barnes. Your best friend’s name was Steve and you were a Sergeant of the 107th. You moved to Brooklyn when you were three, to the building right above us.” You see him look up at the concrete ceiling, and your lips barely pull into a smile. “Your sister moved back to Shelbyville after the war.”

“Sister?”

“Rebecca. You had three siblings. She’s the last one left.” Your voice has grown hushed as you watch his mechanical arm set down the knife he used to tear apart his waffle. It’s half-eaten and the bacon is all gone, so you don’t know if it means he’s full or if he just doesn’t like waffles anymore. The thought makes you sad. “Your parents, your other siblings—they died in transit to the safe house where Rebecca lives.”

“I killed them,” he whispers and your head jerks up, eyebrows furrowing together as a harsh breath is drawn between your lips. Your stomach twists as he meets your eyes and you see the frantic, muzzled animal within the blue of his irises. “They made me kill them.” He glances down at his plate again, blinking. “I’m not hungry. I’m sorry, I…”

“No, it’s alright.” You stand up too quickly, too sharply that the chair scrapes against the floor, causing both of you to flinch. You bite down on your lip to stop yourself from letting the stinging in your eyes blur your vision as you grab the plates and head to the sink. With your back to him, you turn on the sink to hide the sound of your shuddering sigh. “You should rest,” you add louder, praying your voice does not shake. “I can come to you later.”

You listen to him go and wait until the door to your room clicks shut.

You resist the urge to throw the porcelain plate and watch ti shatter against the wall.

When you think you’ve managed to fill the hole inside you with something other than sand (broken pieces of your heart fit better, even if the cracks reach your skin), you knock on the door.

“Bucky, may I come in?” In your hand weighs the medicinal bag you don’t remember feeling so heavy. A soft ‘yes’ on the other side prompts you to twist the knob and enter and you see him standing there, just staring at himself in the floor length mirror. He’s much more muscular than you remember, lean and toned in his back and shoulders, his arm enough to snap you in two. His mechanical arm moves like his flesh one, wrapped around his bandaged chest, and glints in the warm lamplight. Dark hair falls over his face and it’s a gut punch to the system. Disastrously handsome, and all too damaged, there is barely half of him left for you to hold.

Heat surges through your body. You haven’t quite seen Bucky like this in a while, and before, well, before it was life and death. Now…

“Do you want me to sit on the bed?” he asks, watching your reflection. You nod and he walks back onto the corner of the bed, sinking into the mattress. You perch down behind him and you notice he doesn’t tear his eyes away from his mirror image.

“I’m unwrapping the bandages now,” you begin and he nods. He still smells like sewer and you’re surprised Tony hadn’t cried at the smell, and there’s something cold about his skin as you unwind the white cloth. You try your best not to stare at the lines in his back, at the scarring that twists into his shoulder, but your eyes can’t help but stray. The bandages fall away and you’re greeted by the sight of healing red marks. The stitches are already dissolving and you smile at the bruising that mars his back. It means he’s healing.

“Who are you?” he asks in the quiet, startling you out of your thoughts. His healing factor is much faster than yours and you wonder how many doses it took for him to heal from gunshot wounds overnight. Gently pressing onto a yellow-green mark on his shoulder blade, you feel him tense up.

“I’m the Head of Developmental Medicine and Science,” you say, just as soft. “Although, I suppose whoever sent you already knew that because of what Howard is trying to concoct.”

“Who are you to me?”

Your throat cinches shut, and you paste on a smile just in time for him to turn around to look at you. Tormented, his eyes are hooded by his sagging eyebrows and you see how tired he is, how guilty. You don’t know how you are supposed to answer such a question.

“Shouldn’t you know?” you tease weakly. “You heard me in the cemetery, all weepy about it.” He stares at you for a moment and then turns back to his reflection. A bruise begins to form in your throat as you hold back the stinging in your eyes. This is the man you loved, broken apart like he was nothing and made to believe it, and now... now you can’t even be honest with him. Your fingers gently trail up his back, to his shoulder and you feel his breath hitch. You run your fingers reverently over the scarring twisting into his shoulder and he shivers. “Does it hurt when I do this?” Your fingers dig into the soft flesh and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“No.” You catch sight of his reflection, and you watch as his eyes flutter shut. Shuffling closer towards him, you place a gentle hand on his other shoulder, the smooth expanse of his skin frigid against your searing palm. “It… it feels good.”

“I’ve tended to more war veterans than I can count,” you whisper gently, eyes focusing on your work. His metal hand clenches and then relaxes as you find a knot of tension hiding between his joints. “I’ve treated amputated sites where the patients complain of phantom pain or tension they can’t quite relieve.” You gently dig your thumb underneath his collarbone and he lets out a soft sigh. You wonder if he knows what tenderness is, what love and comfort is. Has H.Y.D.R.A. purged that from his mind the way they killed his memory of you?

Your shattered heart crumbles at the way he falls apart in your hands.

He seems to melt into you and you peer at his reflection with a bleeding heart. “Don’t stop, please.” His own ice blue gaze stares at you, wary still, but he is no longer stiff. “You’re an angel.” He says it like he’s never known it before, the word a stranger on his tongue. You shatter at the word.

You want to tell him you’ve loved him far longer than you’ve not. You want to tell him you love him, and you have loved him, and you will love him every day, and that has never changed and will never change.

Instead, you say, “You’re not the Devil, you know,” as he stares at you with glass eyes. Your hand trembles against his shoulder, and you feel tremendously fragile. Biting your lip, you try not to tell yourself that everything is okay, knowing he’s alive.

“I loved you,” he murmurs lowly, “didn’t I?” His flesh hand catches yours and you press your lips together, determined not to lose yourself before him but you know he’s recovering more of his memory the longer you stay in his presence. You tell yourself you can take it if he doesn’t quite remember you—you stay in hopes that he does. “Angel. That’s what I called you. And I loved you more than anything.”

Something explodes in your chest, and you cannot take it, knowing he does remember you. You are washed in shame, in if I tried harder, I could’ve found you sooner and saved you, and it burns to touch him.

“Excuse me.” You rip yourself away just as the searing in your eyes grows to be too much. That isn’t your Bucky. Not anymore, a patronizing voice in your ear whispers. The words are cruel, but the lashes your mind inflicts on itself are cruler. “I…”

You cannot bring yourself to finish the sentence. You are out the door before he can tell you to stay.

Hot water pellets your skin harshly as you let out a sob. You barely have enough air to breathe as you lean against the tile and try to soothe the fire that burns between your ears. Burning tears race over your cheeks as you let out another cry, your hand slapped over your mouth in a piss poor attempt to muffle your want to scream.

Eyes shut against the bullet rain, you wish the shower can wash away more than just the smell of sewage. You want to slip into the drain and leave. You want to feel more than just hollow. Your chest heaving, you try to ignore how your lungs gasp and struggle, how much it feels like drowning and there’s no way to know which way is to the surface, and how you feel like you’re in shambles.

Sobbing into your palm, it is cathartic to just scream it out. Although the hiss of the shower is not enough to mask your sobs, you feel the tension in your back unwind as you wail loud enough for it to echo back at you. Soaked to the core, pulsing and cold, you want to feel something—anything other than pain and hollowness.

What if I punch my hand through the wall? Blister myself in this hellfire? Ask him to kill me. Put an end to this misery.

How have you spiralled.

The curtain rattles against the pole as it is pulled back but you don’t even flinch at the light that streams into your dark little cell. You’d heard him for the past five minutes, pacing outside the bathroom, and now you stare at him through the tangled mess of his dark hair. He’s wearing an A-shirt you left out for him and his tac pants, the smell of antiseptic and cold winter rushing into your stall. His blue eyes shadowed, his gaze drills into yours and you swallow your tears down, your breath still shuddering in your throat as your lips part.

“What do you want?” Your voice, throaty and deep, sounds unrecognizable to you, and he merely stares for a moment. What more can you take from me? What more will I give you?

“I loved you,” he whispers and you push off the tiled wall, staring at him through the stream of steaming water. “I think I still do.”

All breath leaves your body and your knees nearly give in as you blink tears out of your eyes.

“Bucky.” The name barely flutters past your tongue and you want to say this is not love, you don’t remember me, I don’t want you to, it aches, can’t you see me dying every second you look at me? but you can barely regain your wits before he cups your face and his mouth is hard on yours. You stumble back into the wall and the cool tile against your back causes your mouth to open wider underneath his burning mouth. Every touch sets you on fire, and you can feel the ice of his metal arm gliding down your side as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You don’t care about the pain from the stitches in your chest or from the jagged remains of your heart digging into your ribs.

Strength surrounds you as he pulls back before you drown in his smell, and you nearly gasp for air. His whispered apologies gloss over your skin and your chest heaves against his as you tell him ‘It’s okay. It’s okay.’ The thick heat of him clouds your vision as his lips brush against yours, catching and gliding reverently as he breathes, his nose tracing through the tears on your cheeks, his eyes closed.

You pull your hands back to cup his face and he lets out a tremendous sigh, his shoulders sinking as his head drops to your collarbone. Raking your fingers through his hair with one hand, your other travels down the expanse of his back, feeling him breathe, beating, alive.

You can’t quite feel it yet.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me,” he whispers against your skin. He braces himself against the wall with his metal arm, his flesh one wrapped tight around your waist and you let out a soft sob as he rests his head against your collarbone. Raising your chin, you hold him to your chest and a quiet fills the shower. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” you murmur into his ear. “That wasn’t you. This… this is.” His arm tightens and you let out a sigh at the closeness you’ve only experienced in your best nightmares. You don’t want to wake up. You never do. “This is you, Bucky. Everything you say now, it’s you.” You gently rake your fingers through his hair and your lips find the cord in his neck. Brushing tender kisses up to his ear, you press your cheek into his shoulder.

“I love you,” he breathes and you can see the moment the world seems to lift off his shoulders. “You are chaos to my thoughts and… and I love you.” Pulling back, he stares at you with a wonder, a light you haven’t seen since 1945. The image of a boy soldier before you causes your lips to pull into the shakiest smile and you let out a laugh, pressing a desperate kiss against his mouth.

He kisses you back with a tenderness that seals the cracks in you, and you continue to laugh at the brightness in your chest. For a moment, the man you love is not some nameless face burdened with a trauma you cannot even begin to imagine, but Bucky, the Sergeant in the hospital bed.

“So do you remember?” you ask against his hungry mouth, and at last, a hesitant smile presses against your skin. “Do you remember how much I love you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten,” he whispers. “It was just buried beneath so much crap they thought I’d never see the light of day again, but I have.” His metal fingers brush away the tears that dot at your cheeks, and you nearly shiver in his arms. Your eyes dart to his pink lips to the warmth in his blue eyes and you close your eyes. “Thank you.”

“If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.” Your nose brushes against his as you hold his forehead against yours. His soaked shirt clings to his chest as you grab at his A-shirt’s hem, pulling up. You don’t know what rules your head, but it is most certainly nothing sane and everything wild.

“Angel—” Just the name, the name you haven’t heard in so long, sends shockwaves through your system and you let out a breath, eyebrows knitting together. In his arms, you feel nearly whole, as if he is the glue that holds you together. Without him, you are nothing more than pieces.

“There’s been no one else,” you promise. “No one besides you. Please.” Your voice softens as the shower begins to run cold and you tremble as he pulls back to stare into your eyes. He searches for hesitation, for the possibility of regret, but you merely touch his cheek and nod. The fire that has been extinguished for near twenty years ignite at the gentlest swipe of his fingers along your waist. “Please.”

“We never…” His words fade as you kiss him warmly. His eyes close and he chases your lips even after you pull away.

“I know we promised that our life will start after the war. But the war is over and life has swept us both away. It was always you. Please let me choose you.” You finally manage to pull his shirt off, letting it drop by your feet and you loop your arms around his neck. You wait in bated breath for his response.

He answers by shoving you against the wall and kissing you as if you are a feast and he is the hungriest man on the planet.

His mouth press against the plane of your shoulder, and you let out a soft sigh as he runs a hand down your stomach. You are sore in places you didn’t know existed, and somehow, your arms ache as you reach to turn the clock. In the time between you’ve stumbled into bed with a man back from the dead to now, hours have passed.

“What time is it?” he asks quietly, and you turn back to him with a serene smile. This could’ve been my every morning, you realize dully and your smile shrinks as you brush hair out of his face. He still smiles as if there is someone who will shoot him if he shows any joy, but there is a true light to it. You kiss him quickly, rolling over in his arms.

“Nine.”

“That late, huh?”

“I suppose.” Pulling him close, you sneak a kiss against the corner of his mouth. His hand settles on your waist delicately and you smile, simply embracing him tightly. You feel his heart thud against your ear and you want to sob your eyes out. A thickness in your chest makes you sigh and you close your eyes, squeezing him closer.

“I’m here,” he whispers into your hair. “I’m here.”

“Good.” You tilt your head up to kiss his chin and he grins. “I’ve got to get out of bed and start my day.”

“Hard to believe it’s just getting started,” he whispers and you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth and detaching yourself from his arms. Scampering over to the dresser, you feel his gaze weigh on your back as you pull out another set of men’s clothes for him and set it on the dresser before slipping a silk gown over your own body. Turning, you roll your eyes when you see Bucky confirming your suspicions. You jerk your head in a gesture to tell him to get dressed and scowl playfully when he doesn’t move. “Are you going to get up at all today?”

“I’m just admiring an angel,” he retorts, and your heart splits painfully. It’s so Bucky of him to say that you want to throw up. “I hope you plan to stay here. It’s not safe for you outside.”

“If you mean my bedroom, no. The safe house, yes. I’m not an idiot.” He finally gets up and you take a moment to admire his sculpted muscles before reminding yourself of the day ahead of you. Phone to S.H.I.E.L.D., to Howard, inform them of what has happened. It’s hard to imagine a world of duties outside of this blissful room. “I’m going to cook breakfast after I wake up Tony. I’d like it if you joined me.”

He sets his hand on top of the pile of clothes, flipping through to find briefs before pulling them on and you lean against the counter with a slight pout. He barely glances at you, his expression hard, and your eyebrows knit together.

“Were my waffles so horrendous?” you ask, keeping your tone light as you rest your chin on your arms and try to catch a glimpse of his face. “Bucky—”

“I can’t stay here.”

“What?” The word pushes its way out of your mouth unbidden and you straighten up, your fingers scratching along the wood of the dresser as he unfolds the A-shirt against his chest. “But—”

“It’s not safe. You know that.” He pulls the white shirt over his head and you pull back, blinking. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you don’t even know what to say to the bluntness in his voice. The clock ticks in the silence as he stares at you for a moment and then turns away, running his hands through his hair. “They’re probably looking for me already, and if they crack down on this safe house, neither you nor Tony is gonna make it out of here alive.”

“Right,” you intone lifelessly, broken-hearted, lost, and you scream at yourself for being so incredibly stupid. Of course you can’t have it easy, you can’t have it peaceful, you can’t have it go right. Resting your forehead against your palm, you smile bitterly to yourself. “Right, how can I forget.”

“Angel—” His arms float around your body as if he wants to touch you but you jerk back, eyes darting to meet his—knife points, razor sharp.

“They’ll find you. You think I don’t know that?” The way he stares at you, looks at you, softly and with too much tenderness your battered heart cannot take it, makes you want to wretch. “You think I don’t want to pretend that I can keep you safe?” Your voice, bitter and frosted, punches through the air. “I’ve just found you again.”

“My handlers are dangerous.” He looks ashamed for the things he cannot control and he shakes his head, grabbing the pair of trousers from the pile. “More dangerous than you can imagine. All they have to say are the words and you won’t be able to stop me.”

“Then let me help you,” you whisper. You reach for his arm. His blue eyes dart to yours and you see the fear. The fear you cannot begin to comprehend. “Let S.H.I.E.L.D. help you. We can move to another safe house and figure out how to reverse the programming—”

“I can’t. They’ll kill you if they find me anywhere but with them.”

“Fuck, well, I’m not about to let you walk back into the arms of the people who took you away from me!”

“Let them! Let them take me!” He spits the words in your face and you flinch back at the wolf that seeps into his cold eyes. His lips twisted in a snarl, he throws off your hand. “I don’t fucking deserve to be saved.”

“Bucky—”

“You don’t know what I’ve done. I- I don’t deserve to be saved.” You nearly laugh at how you’re back in this situation again. At this stupid back and forth between the two of you. The place has changed but the people stay the same, apparently, and you want to slap sense into him, and erase the glossiness from his eyes. When he blinks, the beginnings of tears bead and you wish to kiss them away.

“You do. You do deserved to be saved. And I just… I want you to stay. We can have the life we want, can’t we?”

He stares at you wretchedly and you know that you can’t. Not when there are still people out there who want the both of you dead.

“You and I both know that’s not possible so stop trying to fool yourself. You’re much smarter than that.”

The tears come easier this time and you stare at him with glassy, blurry eyes. With every second that passes, you think you might die from the pain, but you don’t. You never do.

A mended heart is stronger every time it breaks.

“So, that’s it?” You’re just going to leave?” Your anger unleashed, your words burn hotter than magma, hotter than hell, hotter than hate. You think of all you’ve been through in the past day: tears, pain, pleasure, soul-splitting agony. You hate him. “You’re not even going to try to make it work? Were you just going to disappear if I hadn’t woken up? Did you confront me just to take me into bed because you should’ve killed me instead if that was your intention.”

“I want to keep you safe.” He is begging for you to stop but you are too furious with how hopeful you’ve allowed yourself to become in his presence. How deeply in love you’ve been reminded you are. How the moment he leaves, he will take your happiness with him. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not true.”

“Then what is? That you love me? Because the Bucky I knew wouldn’t just leave me here alone without a fight, stuck somewhere where I can’t follow him; stuck here, so bloody unhappy, so fucking empty that I don’t even know who I am! I wish you never fucking woke up and just pulled the trigger. I really wish you did because, at least, I wouldn’t be here again letting you rip me apart at the seams. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you with every cell of my being and I hope I never see you again!”

Your heart beats in your throat, a deep pulse that you want to swallow as he stares at you, eyes wide. You suck in a shuddering breath, nails scratching at your scalp. Grasping fistfuls of your hair, you let out a soft cry, the simmering heat in your eyes too much and you shut them tight, falling to your knees. Keening over, you let out a deep, low, note of pain and your face floods with heat. You breathe in a lungful of hot air as hands gently clasp your shoulders and you lash out, letting out a feral scream.

“Let me go! I fucking hate you!” You thrash in his arms but he merely wraps you in his embrace, squeezing you gently as you let out a desperate cry and you feel the sobs pushing their way up your throat. Pushing his chest, you hear him grunt as he falls back on his bottom and your shoulders shake as another sob wracks through your body. He presses his cheek against your wet one and you feel the fight leave you, at the warmth that begins to sink into your bones, the fatigue of the last twenty-seven hours catching up to you. He holds your head to his shoulder, your whole body pressed against his in an effort to prevent you from harming him or yourself and the sanity chains back the monster H.Y.D.R.A. stuffed into you, the one you’ve managed to cage until him. Something about him makes you go feral, wild with love. You could kill on it—you have.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs into your ear, voice dulcet, low in his chest and you open your eyes blearily as he strokes your back. Your fists relax and you let out a whimper as he gently brushes a kiss against your neck. You realize dazedly that you’re sitting square on his lap, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and you pull back, blinking fresh tears down your face. Somehow, it is your nature to be as close to him as possible. To hold onto him as tight as you can.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, eyes warm and tender as he takes care of your new tears as well. He wipes away every droplet with a care you recognize and you sniff as he smiles. The smile reminds you of the moon, beautiful, mellow, all too kind and brilliant. “Maybe one day, hm? Maybe we’ll have a chance one day.”

You sniff again, wiping at your face furiously with the heel of your hand and try to stop yourself from breaking again as he brushes a slick strand of hair out of your face, behind your ear. He tilts his head just so, still with that lunar smile.

“I’m supposed to be helping you,” you whisper and he chuckles, the sound filling your chest as his hand on your back runs up the length of your spine. “Helping you fix whatever’s in your head.”

“That’ll have to wait.” You lean into his palm cupping your cheek, sliding your hand atop his and his smile melts. “I would stay if I had any choice, you know that.”

“I do.” You throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and your eyes close. “Stay for breakfast. Just for a moment longer.”

“Okay.” He buries himself closer into your neck. You clutch onto him tighter. “Okay.”

“What do you want to do now, hm?” You pick Tony up from his seat and he presses his chubby cheek against yours as you mouth a ‘thank you’ to Bucky who collects the plates and takes them to the sink. He gives you a slight smile as you walk down the hall. Tony squirms and you set him down, letting him run on ahead. He runs down the halls, into your room that you’ve left to Bucky, and you smile to yourself.

Jogging after the boy, you catch him just in time for him to try and climb into bed. You hoist him up, kissing his hair affectionately before planting a hand on your hip.

“Book!” He claps his hands and you frown thoughtfully, threading your fingers through his downy hair. “Book!”

“You want me to read to you?” you ask rhetorically. “What books do I have in here?” You run through a list in your head as you set the pillows up around him. You’ve got adult literature to keep yourself occupied, but you haven’t been here with Tony since he’s been a few months old. His exceptional memory and intellect means he remembers what you’ve read to him to a certain extent and he won’t want you reading books composed of pictures.

You don’t think you can take on a displeased Tony today.

“I’ve got… letters. Correspondence I never had the chance to return.” You finally give up, perching on the edge of the bed. Tony lunges onto his stomach, landing on one of the pillows with a playful smile and you grimace to yourself. “Do you want me to read to you boring letters?”

“Letters?” You nearly jump. Bucky’s the only person who’s ever managed to sneak up on you, and although you should be more aware, you know he does it when he wants to be unnoticeable. You turn to the door to see him there in white and beige, a far cry from the black death that had followed you days before, and blink. He looks so soft here, with his hair tucked behind his ears and a gentle smile etched onto his face.

“Yes. Just… work letters.”

Your heat nearly explodes as he walks in. You can’t tell him his letters are what you’re talking about, tucked in a small box here so no history museum or organization can take them. You’re not about to be made into some commodity and you’re not about to be spun into some tragic love story that has ended in sorrow.

You want to believe that that is not how it will end.

“Well, it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

“I shouldn’t.” You feel Tony tug on your sleeve and you see him with his huge doe eyes staring at you impatiently, his lips twisted in a huge pout. Your heart wrenches and you kiss his forehead, scooting back so he can crawl into your lap. You pick him up and he snuggles up against your chest as Bucky crosses his arms, thoroughly enamored by the two-year old. You sigh in defeat. “In the room you carried me to, there’s a box on the dresser. Inside are the letters.”

Bucky stares at you for a moment, and you only give him a sad smile. He goes to get the box.

Paper is sprawled across the bed. You are on your back, arms wrapped around Tony who rests like a tiny sack of potatoes on your chest. The tiny boy’s hands wipe at the tears that continue to drip down your cheeks, an innocent task that makes you smile, but you can’t help the few tears that slip away from your control. As Tony continues to try to fix the tears and fight off the yawn that’s been dogging at him for the past five minutes, you press a long kiss to his forehead, eyes closing. Your hand cradles the back of his head, and he rests his head on your sternum, a tiny little thing you can’t help but feel so much love for. He snuggles underneath your chin and you smile, grateful for this boy who has made this easier.

“This isn’t something you can fix, Tony,” you whisper, eyes opening, and he raises his head against your palm. His eyes search yours and you wonder if, to the extent he can, understands. “I hope you’ll never understand.” You urge his head back down against your chest and run your other hand up and down his back. “Time for a nap,” Tony wiggles for a moment more before finding a position comfortable enough to fall asleep in and you breathe in deeply at the tiny weight on your chest.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers and you open your eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Watch your language,” you murmur without heart. The mattress dips beside you and Bucky crawls up the bed, his hands full of letters in his own writing. He shuffles through them, eyes scanning each one and then looks at you with wet eyes. “I told you I didn’t want to read them.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I need to learn the lesson of listening to you again,” he whispers and you laugh to yourself, the heel of your palm digging into your eyes. He has read every single one aloud, enough anguish in his voice to kill the strongest man three times over, and yet here he is, reading them again.

Is this torture? Is that all this love is?

“I love you,” you whisper, eyes closed, the heel of your hand plugging one of them, and you can feel his presence like you’re attuned to him, only him. “I love you more than anything.” His fingers brush against your tear-wet jaw, his other hand delicately wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face. You open your eyes just in time for his lips to meet yours and you gasp in pain as you taste the salt of his own tears in your mouth. Your heart feels like it’s tearing itself in two, your organs collapsing, your lungs failing, and here he is, kissing you, keeping you alive for moments longer. The heat of him, the smell of sweat and breakfast clinging to his skin, overwhelms you and you let out a small cry when he pulls away. Something dies in you the instant his lips leave yours.

“I love you.” Kissing each tear off your cheek, he whispers it over and over again until you’re sure it is engraved into your skin, and a wave of exhaustion crashes down on your head as you manage to snag a fistful of his shirt before he can pull away again. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Stay,” you plead. His cheek presses against yours, and you feel his hand, cold, metal, just as alive as yours, lay on top of yours on Tony’s back. “Just until I fall asleep. I can’t… I can’t watch you go.”

“Okay,” he whispers, and he sets the letters aside. Laying down beside you, he slides an arm around the both of you, and tangles your legs with his. You turn onto your side, your forehead pressing against his, and you let out one last confession, one last proclamation with your eyes closed and sleep at your door.

Tony is sound asleep between the two of you, so unaware of the agony that cracks the air. You know Bucky looks at you as you whisper ‘I love you.’ With his thumb against your jaw, the tender press of his lips against your forehead, you want to believe this can be forever.

You cannot bear to look at the devastation in his eyes. You know when you open your eyes again, he will be gone.

381 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

If We Walk Down This Road, 1/2 (Scyvie) - Ashley

It’s the final year of sixth form and stress levels are high for Yvie as she balances school work, Uni applications and her “part-time” job in a kids activity centre. However, things only get worse when her boss decides to hire his privately educated, definition of privilege daughter, Scarlet, as their marketing assistant and she rubs Yvie up the completely wrong way. Until, of course, she doesn’t.

Here goes a very late submission to the black girl magic fic! Hope you guys like it! This is a prequel of some sorts to my fics Got My Number and Girl on Fire but it works fine as a standalone so you don’t have to have read those to understand anything. Big thanks to @pink-grapefruit-cafe and @artificialortega for all the help, love and support with this fic.

Yvie loved her life. She wouldn’t have changed a piece of it for the world. Only, every now and then, she longed to be someone else.

This feeling usually arrived when making her way through the industrial estate, hearing the loud Kidz Bop music they were forced to play at her work ring in her ears before the building was even in sight. In fact, that feeling arrived every single time she walked towards her work, it was just something she had become accustomed to. It wasn’t the worst job in the world, she got to hang out with Jaida, Heidi and Priyanka on the weekends and the pay wasn’t awful. She just sometimes wished that after a long, frustrating day of writing essays she could stay on the bus until she arrived home, take a nice shower and do her homework with the telly on instead of hopping off after just six stops to put on a fake smile for a few hours and pray that no one was sick in the soft play area.

And on what seemed like the dullest Friday since she had started her job there, God (who she didn’t really believe in but had no one else to make the prayer to) decided that it most certainly wasn’t her night because a grand total of three kids were sick in the soft play instead of just the usual one.

So worth the twenty pounds she’d end off earning. So, so worth it.

Ready to throw her gloves in the bin, wash her hands at least four times and spend the rest of the night lurking at the back of the cafe until it was time to close, Yvie was stopped in her tracks when she returned back to her spot. Her spot that was currently occupied by a thin, unfamiliar red-head.

Pale legs poking out of a plaid skirt that reeked of prefects and lacrosse games, she stood out like a sore thumb against the bright yellow hoodies that made up their uniform (Yvie’s slightly stained with bleach and too short for her gangly arms). Yvie watched in silence for a second as the girl burrowed through the fridge, hearing a big, dramatic sigh of relief escape her red lips as she laid eyes on a Coke Zero.

“Can I help you?” Yvie asked.

Only it wasn’t really a question, Yvie using her level ten voice that was usually only saved for people who tried to push in the queue for the toilet on nights out or for idiots who answered easy questions wrong on Pointless when she watched it at Nina’s house. Annoying customers were normally only confronted with a mid-range level of anger on Yvie’s behalf, passive-aggressive rather than completely pissed off. As much as forever feeling the need to call out people in the wrong irked her, Yvie knew that she shouldn’t do that at work, leaving it for at home where the threat of being fired didn’t loom over her shoulder like the grim reaper’s scythe.

Something about this girl just threw that out into the window and sent it flying down the motorway at rapid speed, Yvie’s patience nowhere to be seen.

“Sorry.” The girl giggled. Actually giggled. “Took me forever to find the sugar free!”

“Normally you’d wait to be served it.” Yvie shot imaginary laser beams with her eyes. “At the other side of the counter.”

Yvie watched the girl pause, a coy grin on her face as her eyes danced between Yvie’s face and her own reflection in the clean glass.

“It’s a shame there was no one there to serve me!” She unscrewed the lid from the bottle, taking a swig and aaahing in delight as though it were the nectars of Greek gods.

Her voice was posh.

Not tea and crumpets, let’s-go-shoot-some-clay-pigeons posh but still posh nonetheless. She pronounced the Ts in her words in a way that neither Yvie nor any of her friends did and Yvie knew that if she wasn’t so furious she would have found it sexy.

She was always a sucker for a posh voice.

“Well, if you’d have waited two minutes then I would have been here,” Yvie replied, letting her nails squish into the palms of her own hands - a self-control mechanism that didn’t tend to work when your nails were bitten down to stumps like Yvie’s currently were (something she liked to attribute to the stress of her A-Levels despite it being a habit she’d formed as a kid).

It was safe to say she didn’t feel relieved.

Especially when the familiar lull of the owner’s voice boomed behind her. How perfectly convenient.

“Yvie!”

Normally Yvie would be relieved to realise he’d actually gotten her name right but her mind was full of other thoughts - supermodel shaped thoughts with blue eyes that were probably going to get her murdered.

At least she’d taken the rubber gloves off before she met her untimely end, she thought to herself, pulling the biggest ‘I’m sorry, I should be more attentive’ smile she could muster as she turned to face her boss.

“I see you’ve met my daughter!” He motioned to the girl.

His daughter, of course.

“Yes,” Yvie stammered, her cheeks red at the mistake she’d made.

The girl, her boss’ daughter, instead seemed nothing but amused.

“Scarlet’s here to help with our marketing; gotta make sure that personal statement is in tip-top shape ready for applications!”

Yvie felt his words crawl under her skin, the itch of casual nepotism. Casual nepotism that would probably land people like Yvie without a Uni offer. She never liked to think of herself as bitter when these situations arose, but this time she couldn’t deny that she was at least a little tart. After all, Yvie was pretty adamant that any Russell Group would favour the privately educated white girl who had marketing experience with a local business over the one who cleaned the toddler’s sick from the ball pit.

It really was as simple as that.

Yvie didn’t know if Scarlet failed to sense her discomfort or simply ignored it anyway as she moved over and held out her hand.

Yvie couldn’t remember the last time she had actually shaken someone’s hand but obliged nonetheless. Scarlet’s eyes narrowed slightly when Yvie met them, her face concentrated like she was about to be quizzed on Yvie’s appearance. Realising she hadn’t blinked since their hands met, Yvie pulled away quickly, the brightness of the centre snapping back into focus around her.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then.” Scarlet took an extra big swig of the bottle before tossing it in the bin and leaving the cafe with her Dad.

And she wasn’t wrong. Indeed, Yvie found herself “seeing Scarlet around” on every single shift she was on the rota for. For an entire three weeks. Without fail.

She was starting to think the phrase, ‘bane of my life’ was an understatement for how she felt about the girl.

It’d started small, Yvie finding herself rolling her eyes whenever Scarlet came into the cafe for a drink. But soon Yvie started to believe that Scarlet didn’t just live in a different part of town but in a whole other fantasy that the rest of the staff were foreign to, parading past the trampolines once every hour as if the carpet were the runway at Paris Fashion Week.

“Do you think someone needs to tell her she’s not actually a real princess?” Yvie spoke into the walkie talkie, exchanging glances between Scarlet and her friend.

“Leave her be! She’s just playing with the kids, you witch,” Jaida responded from the opposite end of the park. “Stop being so cynical.”

Yvie was grateful for her work friends. Although she loved Nina and Brooke with every piece of her often cold, dead heart, it was nice to have found girls more like her at work. Girls who understood how it felt when her school told her she wasn’t allowed any “extreme” hairstyles and she had to take out her braids. Girls who also got told they were too confident, sometimes arrogant when all they were doing was being proud of themselves. Girls a little bit older and wiser (not that she’d ever admitted that she found them wise) who helped her love her skin just that little bit more than she already did.

“Yeah but she’s probably getting paid double what we are to swan about like that!”

Yvie raised her hands in the air to Jaida but didn’t get a chance to hear her response, turning the volume down to zero when she saw Scarlet making her way towards her.

“Hey, doll.” Scarlet plonked a notebook down on the counter in front of Yvie, a big grin of optimism filling the lower half of her face.

Her hair was down that day, soft ginger curls falling in front of her chest. Yvie had a sudden urge to push a strand back and tuck it behind her ear.

Why did the most annoying girl on the planet have such flawless bone structure? It simply wasn’t fair.

“Hello,” Yvie responded rather formally, reaching to grab Scarlet’s usual order. The faster she did so, the faster she walked away - so Yvie may or may not have been keeping a couple of Coke Zeros in the special fridge under the counter that was saved only for open milk bottles, just so she could serve Scarlet with the utmost efficiency.

A part of her just wished she would serve herself again.

“Oh no.” She shook her head, reaching out to touch Yvie’s arm and stop her. Yvie could hardly feel her hand through the thick hoodie, yet her heart still decided it wanted to start sprinting in the middle of the leisurely stroll it was taking before Scarlet had come over. Maybe she had to add the human anatomy to the list of things she’d decided she hated that week, right underneath her new English teacher and egg mayonnaise sandwiches. Her stupid, fat heart.

“I’m here for your interview!”

“Interview?” Yvie raised a brow and chuckled to herself. She wondered if Scarlet had ever actually had to be interviewed for anything in her life nevermind conduct one.

“For Instagram! I’m posting little profiles of all the staff, a little get to know me! It’ll help the youngsters really see what a family we are here!”

Yet another thing Yvie hated was how Scarlet always managed to talk like an edgy teenager and a middle-aged woman at the same time, figuring that was the first and last time she’d hear an eighteen-year-old refer to kids as “youngsters”. Or at least she said she hated it in one of the many Scarlet-included rants she’d had to Heidi the weekend before; she may have actually loved it. The two feelings were often blurred in Yvie’s brain, hard to tell one from the other in her web of brutal honesty and blunt opinions. She was ninety-nine per cent sure she hated it.

“I’ll get someone to cover your station and we can go natter in the staff room.” Scarlet took her lack of words as acceptance and turned on the spot.

Maybe Yvie was only eighty per cent sure.

Yvie had never seen Scarlet in the staff room before, watching most days as the girl took her snacks outside where she ate alone in her car. So it was strange to be cramped on the small sofa with her, both of them staring at the mirror in front rather than at each other. The smell of a ready-made curry that had been left in the microwave for too long that day was lingering warm in the air. Yvie took a deep breath and held it, scared that if she released it her body would touch Scarlet’s just that inch too much and then the entire world around them would explode around them, kind of like the curry.

“So, what’s your favourite snack from the cafe?” Scarlet held a fountain pen in her hand, ready to write. Yvie didn’t need to look at the notepad to know her handwriting was beautiful, a piece of art next to her own illegible scrawls.

“I don’t buy food here,” Yvie responded nonchalantly.

Scarlet popped the end of the pen in her mouth for a moment then let it rest back at the paper.

“You’ve never eaten anything here?” Scarlet questioned, clearly dissatisfied with Yvie’s answer.

“Nope. It’s far too expensive. I just buy my lunch at the off-license before I get the bus.”

“You know what I want you to say!” Scarlet whined. Yvie thought she would do great as a soap actress if the whole marketing thing never worked out for her. She had that dramatic flare mastered down to a tee. And the charming voice to match.

“I’m being honest.” Yvie half-chuckled. “I’m not a liar.”

“Well, I’m just gonna write cheesy nachos then!” Scarlet was trying her hardest to act serious but Yvie just about caught the quiver of her lip.

She wondered if Scarlet somehow knew about her love for cheesy nachos or if it was simply a wild coincidence, either way, she carried on to battle through the questions with Scarlet, praying that there weren’t many to go.

“Which party room is your favourite?” Scarlet still hadn’t lost her enthusiasm, despite having to write down three sarcastic answers as if they were genuine and completely make up new answers for another two so far.

“The volcano room. Normally older kids hire that out and they don’t make as much of a mess as the toddlers in the mermaid or the pirate one.”

Scarlet didn’t even bother to respond to that one, simply shaking her head at Yvie’s response.

“If you don’t like my honesty…” Yvie started, desperate to get back to the comfort of the park where she could swap spots with Jaida for an hour and bask in the comfort of the ball pit.

“I actually find it quite refreshing.” Scarlet gave an all-knowing smile.

Sometimes Yvie got scared that the girl was part-wizard and could see inside of her soul. After all, she knew which school Scarlet attended and she wouldn’t be shocked one bit if it was revealed to be some modern-day incarnation of Hogwarts (then again Yvie did kind of think that about any school with a tuition fee or Latin slogan, so she didn’t know how strongly her argument would stand).

“That’s weird,” she blurted back, unable to think of something quick and witty to say. Where was Brooke with her encyclopedia of shady comebacks when she needed her? Tempted to text her some form of a rant about the interview/ambush she decided against it, knowing Brooke had planned to spend the day with her new “almost-girlfriend” that she had picked up from the literal curb earlier that month.

“You’re weird.” Scarlet stood up, giving Yvie that smile yet again. Yvie knew it so well now that she should have been able to draw it by memory only she knew it would never be captured just right. Not even with all the pencils and canvases and colours that the rainbow had to offer.

She didn’t even try to come up with a comeback to that one.

“Now for the photoshoot!” Scarlet grinned, opening the door for the pair of them.

“Photoshoot?” Yvie’s head whipped around and fired red laser-beams at the girl from her eyes. There had been absolutely no mention of a photoshoot.

“Follow me, my muse.”

***

“Are you doing homework?” Scarlet craned her neck, making out Yvie’s hunched over figure behind the big coffee machine.

“Sorry.” Yvie stood up straight and made her way to the front of the counter, her brown eyes a little droopy compared to normal. Scarlet knew Yvie always played the ‘I hate my life and don’t want to be here’ game at work regularly, but this time was different.

If she were anyone else in the world Scarlet would have pulled her into a great big cuddle. But she wasn’t. She was Yvie. And Yvie hated her.

Most of the time Scarlet didn’t mind that Yvie hated her, she found it quite amusing winding her up and seeing her face scrunch up in frustration. She knew that her confidence didn’t always rub well with people but she’d always told herself that anyone who didn’t want to live in that world with her was simply missing out. Only sometimes she wished things were a bit different at the centre.

She guessed it was one of those days.

“No need to say sorry to me, I’m not paying you!” Scarlet made her way around the back of the cafe and entered. This was something she’d withheld from doing whenever Yvie was stationed there, after their first Coke Zero incident (which she, for the record, actually found quite funny), but the urge simply pulled her and when the urge took control, Scarlet’s will power was nowhere to be seen.

“Is this History?” Scarlet held the papers close to her face. She’d never suited her glasses and had made the executive decision not to wear them around the centre. This was probably some sort of safety hazard considering the fact there were kids jumping around left, right and centre that she was supposed to be constantly observing, but she simply pretended this thought had never even crossed her little air-head brain. Scarlet knew that it never hurt to look good. After all, you never know who could be sneaking glances at you through the gaps in the slush machines.

Scarlet knew exactly who was sneaking glances at her through the gaps in the slush machines. The constant squinting was worth it.

“I really am sorry. I’ve just been really busy and I’m trying to get all my references for Uni but-” Yvie started but stopped to serve a customer. Scarlet heard her voice waver slightly when she asked if she wanted a medium or large. It broke her heart into a thousand little pieces.

“Is it due soon?” Scarlet flicked through the questions. “I did this last term. My file is in my boot if you want me to get some notes out?”

“I don’t need your help.” Yvie took the papers from out of her hands and placed them back on the counter.

Scarlet knew that behind her constantly on-guard exterior there was a girl who just wanted to relax for a second and have fun. She caught her sometimes. Like the time Heidi queued the entirety of the Hercules soundtrack on their iPod and Yvie complained over the walkie talkie yet Scarlet saw her dancing to the songs in the back of the cafe when she thought no one could see (she may or may not have added I Won’t Say I’m In Love to her playlist that night). Or when Jaida fell into the big airbag and shouted at everyone to look away and Yvie released one of her big hearty laughs that managed to surprise Scarlet every time she heard it. She’d always try to catch Yvie’s face when the girls played their own version of Russian roulette with the bottles of cleaning spray that they thought no one else knew about, closing their eyes and spinning the nozzles then stopping to spray - Yvie dying with laughter every time the liquid spat on her jumper.

“If you’re stressed, I can help. You’re applying to somewhere really good aren’t you?”

“You don’t know everything, Scarlet. I told you already that I don’t need your help, I don’t need your special private school notes or whatever it is you pay to get taught.”

It stung. Those weren’t Scarlet’s intentions at all. But she knew how they must have come across.

“That’s okay.” She grabbed some cans of pop from the back and started to stack the fridge. “Just letting you know that the staff room is really dirty and someone needs to clean it.”

“What?” Yvie turned to face her. “Pri cleaned it yesterday.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to clean it again.” Scarlet made a point of looking at the camera in the corner that she knew her dad would glance at from his office every half an hour. “I’ll watch the cafe while you do it. And take those papers with you.”

“Do you even know how to make a coffee?” Yvie caught on, grabbing her notes and a roll of cloth for show.

“Oh my god. Yes, I go to private school but I’m not Paris Hilton! I can watch the cafe for half an hour.”

“Sorry.” Yvie smiled as she left. “And thank you. Really, thank you.”

And Scarlet felt that thank you deep in her bones, one she’d keep saved somewhere to replay on a day when she felt lonely. Only she began to think that Yvie should’ve taken the thank you back when she realised that she should have absolutely not been trusted to watch the cafe for half an hour.

Scarlet knew she wasn’t the best “employee” they had, spending most of her days taking photos, making social media posts and chatting with the little ones when they were done playing. But she didn’t know how quite bad she was until she had burned two toasties, overcharged at least five customers and accidentally poured one woman’s change into her cup of tea instead of her hand.

Maybe she should stick to Instagram.

She tried her hardest to help, cleaning the toastie machine as best as she could before Yvie returned but she knew that she had messed things up, creating more jobs on top of the ones Yvie already had to do when closing the cafe.

“Are you nearly done?” Scarlet heard her Dad ask Yvie later on as he prepared to lock up for the night.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to cash up the till. There are a few discrepancies I need to try and fix.” Yvie didn’t even look up from the tablet, punching numbers into the digital counter with frustration.

“I’ve got my car.” Scarlet blurted before she knew what she was saying. “I’ll help Yvie and lock up here when she’s done. Get yourself away, Dad.”

Scarlet looked at her phone, full of notifications from the girls’ chat: Naomi telling everyone what booze she was going to bring, Plastique asking what they were all wearing, Pearl waking up from the longest of naps to tell everyone she’d be an hour late. She didn’t read them all properly, sending a quick message before popping her phone back in her pocket:

‘I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait on me xx’

It was the least she could have done.

They were silent for a while, the two of them all alone in the big airy building, the main lights switched off with only the small ones at the top of the cafe kiosk to help them see.

Scarlet did her best to help, double-checking Yvie had counted the piles of coins properly whilst she fiddled around the tablet. She figured that maybe silence was better for them, she couldn’t annoy Yvie with her dramatic exclamations and Yvie wouldn’t bombard her with unsought “honest opinions”.

Until that silence was broken with a bang, echoing through the darkness and causing Scarlet’s entire body to leap out of her skin.

Yvie didn’t even quiver.

“What the fuck was that?” She asked Scarlet, her thick eyebrows raised as she peered towards the soft play.

“That doesn’t normally happen?” Images of axe-wielding lunatics stowed away inside the slides flashed through Scarlet’s mind.

“Funnily enough, it doesn’t,” Yvie responded, still as sarcastic as ever in times of panic. “Put your phone light on.”

Scarlet didn’t really want to go and inspect the noise but she also didn’t want to wait in the cafe alone. She knew she was the perfect damsel in distress, axe murders would love her! Trying her best not to be a baby, she followed by Yvie’s side with her phone light guiding their path.

“What if there’s a bomb?” Scarlet placed a hand on her chest and felt Yvie stop next to her. “One of those ones with a remote control that detonates it!”

“You think someone planted a bomb in our play area? And waited to detonate it when no one was around other than me and you?” Scarlet knew Yvie was rolling her eyes as she spoke despite not being able to see her. “I honestly don’t understand how your brain works sometimes.”

“You love me really,” Scarlet responded without thought as they turned another corner. It was an automatic response she often used to her friends when they made fun of her, it felt weird saying it to Yvie. With anyone else, she would have brushed it off, but with Yvie it was different.

And then Yvie gasped.

Before Scarlet knew it her hand was in the other girl’s. It was automatic. She got a shock and Yvie was there. A patch of her hand turned cool where Yvie’s ring pressed against it.

“What was it?” She asked a second later, her brain too caught up with why her hand was gripping tightly onto Yvie’s hand and why Yvie hadn’t pushed her off to actually know what Yvie had reacted to.

“Nothing.” The hearty laugh came back. It was almost comforting in the darkness. “Just wanted to see how you reacted.”

‘Well there you go,’ Scarlet thought to herself as she looked down to their hands, not quite brave enough to say it out loud.

And then Yvie started to laugh, a noise Scarlet would never ever get used to.

“There’s your bomb.” Her hand slipped out of Scarlet’s and pointed in front of them, the remnants of a big silver helium balloon on the floor. “Good job I was here to protect you from that.”

Before she knew it they were back at the till, fixing each of Scarlet’s mistakes and counting out their float for the next day. They worked relatively well together, only managing to butt heads once more when Scarlet suggested they write out a whole new balance sheet instead of scribbling out a mistake and writing the new number next to it as Yvie wanted. She let it go in the end, her phone vibrating in her pocket with texts from the girls a constant reminder that she had a little red dress with her name on it waiting at home.

“Guess I’ll see you later,” Yvie murmured as they left the building, pacing down the road as Scarlet fumbled with the keys. She was a racehorse in the rain, taking her steps twice as fast as the average human as if the building was on fire.

“Where are you going?” Scarlet had to shout after her, half expecting Yvie to ignore her and keep walking anyway.

“Home?” She stopped up the road for a second and turned around. “Now if you don’t mind I have a bus I’m about to miss.”

About to insist she got in the car, Yvie was already far in the distance, slipping out of Scarlet’s vision in the rain by the time the doors were fully locked. Maybe wearing her glasses would have been useful after all.

Cringing as the puddles splashed up her legs, Scarlet ran to her car as fast as she could, throwing her phone onto the passenger seat and taking off down the road. Thankfully it didn’t take her long to catch Yvie, her dark hair poking out through her hoodie and already scraggly with rain.

“Hey!” She pulled up into the bus stop. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

“What are you a stalker?” Yvie raised her arms in the air. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You’re going to freeze.”

“The bus will be here any minute.”

Scarlet knew she should have just given in and turned around but she felt the guilt for their late departure weighing on her shoulders.

“Look Yvie-” Scarlet started but was cut off by a loud beeping behind her, just making out an angry bus driver in her rearview mirror.

“Move or it’ll drive past!” Yvie cried at her, the usual monotone of her voice rising in pitch.

“Sorry, what was that?” Scarlet attempted some humour, grinning from ear to ear as the bus pulled away. “Oops! Guess you’ll just have to have a nice warm lift instead of getting the bus with a load of drunkards.”

Yvie didn’t speak at first, simply pulling the car door open and plonking herself down, arms folded like a huffy toddler. But as Scarlet began to follow the directions she gave it was almost as if the other girl couldn’t help herself from falling back into their usual rapport of snide remarks and winding each other up.

“So do you always kidnap people in your Fiat 500 or is this something new for you?”

If this were any other member of staff, Scarlet knew she’d call them ungrateful but it was almost like her brain had learned a new language with Yvie, acknowledging and adapting to the different way she showed her emotions.

“You’re welcome.” Scarlet turned the heating up a notch, hearing the chatter of Yvie’s teeth between words. “And this isn’t even a Fiat 500.”

“Apologies,” Yvie responded. She was the difference between rudeness and bluntness that Scarlet figured many people couldn’t see, always honest and unbashful but never actually impolite.

Scarlet’s phone rang three times on their way to Yvie’s house and she didn’t even try to answer.

“Thanks for the lift,” Yvie whispered as Scarlet pulled up to the curb, the lights all turned off in the semi-detached next to them. “Even if you did leave me no other choice.”

Scarlet released a sigh and smiled at the return of the girl’s cynical side.

“There’s the Yvie, I know. Thought I’d lost you, being nice to me for a second!”

“Yeah well, you caught me on an off day.” She gathered her things and opened the door. “Don’t go telling anyone I went soft on you, I have a reputation to uphold.”

And she was up the path before Scarlet could think of a response, leaving her a baffling mess of feelings who couldn’t help but hear a certain laugh bouncing around inside the car even when she turned the music up loud and tried to distract herself from Yvie.

A distraction technique she had to use after every shift for a month.

Scarlet had never planned for the lifts to become part of her routine, it just sort of happened. She told herself that she wouldn’t have let one of the girls from school or her younger sister ever wait in the rain for the bus so it was common sense not to let Yvie do that either. After a little while of Scarlet ranting about how it was safer and faster for Yvie to go home with her instead of catching the bus every time they left work together, Yvie stopped trying to argue and simply started hopping in the passenger seat. Of course, she did this in the most classic of Yvie fashions and told Scarlet she was only agreeing so she didn’t have to listen to her whiney speeches about the dangers of the dark every night but it made Scarlet feel better still. Even if she did receive an average of three sarcastic responses to her comments each time.

Slowly but surely, the eggshell around Yvie began to peel away. Scarlet discovered through blunt replies Yvie loved learning about international relations and global conflict, that she wanted to go to Uni to study them despite the high offer and the money that went with the dream. Despite the fact that only one per cent of the campus she wanted to be a part of was black. Ignoring that her teacher had told her to play things safer.

Yvie was real and passionate and thriving and everything Scarlet admired.

Yes, she was still the same sarcastic self she always was behind the cafe counter but she was even more than that underneath the fluorescent lights in Scarlet’s car. A small chunk of the divide between them had been left at the bus stop in the rain while they basked in the warm air shooting out of the vents.

Scarlet was hesitant to call Yvie a friend, they didn’t really chat and gossip - as she did with Plastique, Naomi and Pearl - and when they did at least half of their conversation was made up of insults but Scarlet liked it. Yvie was a refreshing change from the girls she was surrounded with every day at school and Scarlet wanted to drink that in as much as she could. Even if Yvie did still hate her.

In fact, Yvie had started to use those exact words as a regular comeback to Scarlet’s dramatics, rolling her eyes to match.

“Would you hate me if we stop for food before I drop you off?” Scarlet asked one night. “I’m honestly starved.”

“I already hate you, don’t think food would change that.” Yvie laughed.

That fucking laugh.

Scarlet hoped she only-half meant it. But she never really knew for sure.

Making their way into the food chain, Scarlet’s mind was too consumed with the thought of what she was going to order to even realise that her friends were there until she heard her name.

“Hey, sweets.” Naomi smiled from the table. “I thought you were at your Dad’s work?”

“We were just on the way home and I got hungry.” Scarlet motioned to Yvie, stood almost a step behind her.

“Who’s this?” Plastique asked, raising a perfectly shaped brow.

Opening her mouth to speak, Scarlet’s brain went blank for a second. She obviously wanted to tell the girls about Yvie but never knew what to say, she didn’t even know what they were herself nevermind having to explain it to them.

How do you say, ‘this girl works for my Dad and I drive her home every night whilst we listen to Lady Gaga in almost complete silence except for when she insults me because she maybe hates me or I try to get on her nerves because I maybe fancy her,’ in a clear and concise way?

“Erm, this is…” She tried to start but was stopped by Yvie herself.

“I’ll go order our food.”

“Oh,” Scarlet turned, pulling her purse from her pocket. “Here let me pay.”

“It’s fine.” Yvie turned her back. “I guess I owe you a lot of petrol money anyway.”

Her words struck Scarlet a little different. They lacked any emotion, spoken from dead eyes and a stern face. She relived those words a lot in the next few weeks, popping into her head again at the most random of times. For they were the last words she heard Yvie speak for a while, ignoring any effort Scarlet made to chat, even when she gave her perfect opportunities to poke fun at her like bringing up her house team at school or her sister’s upcoming dance recital (Scarlet knew how much humour Yvie found in the fact that their names were just stupid ways of saying red and yellow and normally laughed whenever Scarlet even mentioned Lemon).

“I won’t be able to give you a lift home next week.” She’d told her as they pulled up to Yvie’s house, ready to explain that Pearl had bought them tickets to a theatre show and it started too early. But Yvie hopped out of the car before she could even finish, leaving Scarlet with even more confusion about how the girl felt.

Because Yvie was still Yvie after all. And Scarlet realised after that particular journey that it would take a lot more than a few rides home to get them anywhere close to being classed as friends.

An observation in Scarlet’s mind that only grew stronger over the weeks following, especially when she decided it would be okay to join everyone on one of their regular staff nights out. A decision tinged with regret as soon as she entered the pub.

“Dress was a big mistake!!!! Huge !!! xx” Scarlet texted her teenage sister aggressively from under the table as if it would somehow fix her situation.

Excited to hit the town with everyone from the centre, she’d spent all day getting prepped and ready, letting Lemon paint her nails as they pondered over what she should wear. Eventually, they’d settled on a shimmery gold Oh Polly number she’d worn to Naomi’s birthday the year prior, her jewellery matching just right.

Only that didn’t matter once she arrived, riving her necklace from her throat as soon as she saw the rest of the staff. With all the other girls in bodysuits and trainers, she was the definition of overdressed and out of place.

It started small at first, hearing someone whisper something including the word “Daddy” as she made her way to the tables, one of the girls from the front desk asking her if she was gonna be getting the rounds in all night.

“Scarlet, come sit here!” Heidi had waved at her over, allowing for a second to catch her breath.

Only her nerves didn’t go away once she joined their booth. In fact, they only grew larger when she caught Yvie’s gaze, her eyes wide at Scarlet in a face she’d never quite seen the girl make before. She’d fought hard to ignore it, but her eyes couldn’t stop from glancing back every few seconds, wondering what it was exactly that Yvie’s face was speaking into the universe around them.

Knowing Yvie it was probably something along the lines of ‘What the fuck is the primadonna doing here in that dress’ but she didn’t know for sure, trying her best to join in their conversation and catch the familiar side of the other girl she’d caught glimpses of over the past few months.

“So, whose ID are you using?” Scarlet asked her in an effort to make conversation, having learnt from the walkie talkies that Heidi was usually Yvie’s go-to girl when she went out with her other friends, despite them looking nothing alike.

“Here.” Yvie slid it across the table for Scarlet to examine, the other girls in the booth taking a look too.

“I know her!” Jaida exclaimed. “Chile, I did her prom makeup a couple years ago.”

“Perks of Brooke’s new girlfriend. I now have black friends that aren’t you guys I can borrow ID from. Not the best though, it’s a good job they never actually look properly.”

“Wait.” Priyanka raised two hands in the air. “You’re telling me that your gal Brooke has an official girlfriend? I thought they were just fucking about, damn!”

“Oh, not this again!” Heidi joined in. “We get it, Pri. You got together once and she didn’t remember your name. Move on!”

Scarlet checked her phone to see if her sister had replied but saw nothing, resorting to scrolling through her own photo album and reshuffling her apps so she didn’t look left out. Listening to the girls continue to gossip about people she didn’t know, Scarlet began to question the friendships she’d made at the centre, little voices in her head telling her that none of them would ever like her enough to open up and gossip with her as they did with one another.

For as long as she remembered she had always been confident, never caring what others thought of her. But as she started to gulp her drink down faster than normal, Scarlet felt that confidence slip away more and more. She was so far out of her comfort zone she couldn’t have made it back on a giant jet plane at full speed. And Yvie’s big brown eyes taking stolen glances at her didn’t make any of it better.

“It’s okay, Pri.” Jaida’s voice pulled Scarlet back into their conversation. “At least Yvie remembered your name when you two got with each other!”

“Oh, fuck off!” Yvie slammed her glass onto the table at the same time Scarlet spat some of her drink back into her own.

What an elegant lady she was.

She’d always just assumed that Yvie was into girls too. There was just something about hearing it for real that made Scarlet’s central nervous system stop working for a second, starting again with a scare.

“That was one time,” Priyanka cried from the opposite side of the booth, thankfully oblivious of Scarlet’s reaction.

Only someone wasn’t as oblivious. Someone was looking right at her and sending every thought, every feeling, every fear inside of Scarlet into overdrive.

***

Yvie wasn’t a stranger to awful dancing. After all, she had been friends with Nina for the majority of life, the girl whose feet were built of hard oak and desperation.

But this was something different altogether.

Watching Scarlet across the dance floor, the phrase ‘Bambi on ice’ brought a whole new meaning to Yvie. If she wasn’t so mad at her she’d go over herself, give the girl a twirl and watch as she missed every beat like she had no cares in the world. Only that wasn’t the case, because mad Yvie certainly was.

Yvie didn’t know why she felt so hurt, it wasn’t like they were friends? It wasn’t like she even liked Scarlet? But something about having to stand there while she scrambled for an explanation of who she was to her privately educated, life’s not fair, acrylic nailed girl gang made Yvie’s blood boil. And she’d never admitted it but she may have even shed a tear or two once her blinds were shut and she couldn’t see the not-Fiat 500 and the annoying girl who drove it.

To think she’d started to believe that she was only fifty-five per cent sure of her hatred.

“Staring much?” She could hear the raise of Heidi’s brow in her words as she spoke to her ear, the loud bass around them not heavy enough to drown out the accusation in her friend’s voice.

Yvie couldn’t even deny it, for she’d been staring at Scarlet from the moment she’d walked into the pub earlier. Of course, she’d stalked the girl’s Instagram enough to know what Scarlet looked like dressed up, rolling her eyes at the dumb self-indulgent captions that were always attached to her selfies. Only it was different in person, a mix of gold and warmth and beauty and envy that made Yvie want to snap a pencil in half (she settled for a paper straw instead which certainly did not give the same level of relief). She’d watched as Scarlet ripped a necklace from her neck earlier and longed to put it back on for her, taking her time to hook it on the right loop so that it would hang perfectly above her collarbone.

She tried to fixate on the memory of Scarlet squealing every time they went over the speed bumps outside of their work to give herself the ick. Only that image had become entwined with one of Scarlet getting out the car one night to help a cat out of the road and Yvie only felt more confused.

“I’m just judging her dancing abilities,” Yvie lied.

She knew it was a lie. Heidi, who once confidently believed that Jaida had found a ghost in the dodgeball cupboard, knew it was a lie. The whole club knew it was a lie just from Yvie’s expression. Did lying count as breaking your streak of tough love and honesty if you wanted to believe you were telling the truth so badly? Is lying even lying if it’s yourself you’re lying to? Yvie didn’t know. All she knew was that red and gold looked so good together it should have been illegal. Only it was herself breaking the law when her eyes met Scarlet’s again, holding for a second before she turned to walk away.

The songs all blurred into one once Scarlet was gone, Yvie’s brain out of focus. That was until she was snapped back by a familiar squark pulling her away from her work friends.

“Hey, Yvie! Or should I say Akeria tonight?” Vanessa grinned, a loved-up Brooke with her arm around the other girl’s waist.

“Thanks again.” Yvie tapped her nose, grateful for Brooke’s new relationship and the new friends that had come with it. “I owe you a drink.”

“So where is she then?” Brooke piped up, straight to the point and not wasting time with any cordial greetings on her best friend.

“Priyanka?” Yvie squinted in confusion for a second, wondering why Brooke wanted to see a girl she had previously hooked up with and usually refused to speak about when all she’d talked about for the past few months was how excited she was every Wednesday night to eat special chicken stew and watch soap operas that she pretended to hate at Vanessa’s house.

“No!” Brooke raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes leaping to Vanessa for a split second. “Ja’mie Private School Girl. I wanna see her in person.”

“Oh.” Yvie’s brain slotted the pieces together. Had she really complained about Scarlet that much?

“Is this the girl you always ragin’ about?” Vanessa joined in.

Okay, maybe she did complain about Scarlet too much.

“I’m not sure where she’s at.” She brushed them off, the memory of Scarlet telling her she couldn’t take her home anymore after seeing her friends tinging Yvie sharply, her face starting to flush. “I’m gonna go to the loo but I’ll get you that drink later?”

“Noted.” Brooke pointed a finger, the sound of their voices carrying as Yvie ran desperately to splash her face with some cold water.

Only she never quite made it to the sink, the sight of an upset red-head stopping her as soon as she entered the toilets.

Yvie went to speak but wasn’t given a chance.

“Go away.” Scarlet’s voice wavered as she knelt down, pulling jackets out from under the couch like they were infested.

“I can’t believe you didn’t pay for the cloakroom.” Yvie joined her on the carpet. “Out of character for you.”

“I said go away.” She turned her head to Yvie, her bloodshot eyes living up to her name.

Yvie felt the sudden urge to scoop Scarlet in her arms and cradle her there till the music stopped and the lights turned off and there was no one left in the building. She felt a need she never knew existed.

“Hey. It’s alright, I can help you…”

But Scarlet had already found her jacket and started racing out of the club as though her life depended on it.

“For fuck sake, Scarlet.” Yvie reached for her arm once they were outside, the cold air penetrating through her bodysuit and making her long for the comfort of her bed at home. “Just talk to me.”

She turned, her face illuminated under the street lamps, full of anger and sadness and perhaps a tinge of pain too.

“Why do you want to talk to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t.” Yvie squeezed her arm slightly and looked her in the eyes to try and show that she meant it. Because sometimes her words failed her and she struggled to sound sincere when in her mind she was, so she had to rely on her actions. All she had at that moment was a gentle squeeze to try and show Scarlet that she meant it. She didn’t hate her. She didn’t know when that had changed or if she’d really hated her in the first place but at that moment she was one-hundred per cent certain, the feeling was nothing like hatred.

Scarlet scoffed and pulled away, tapping her phone furiously with her nails. “You tell me you hate me nearly every day I spend with you.”

Yvie tried to argue back but Scarlet was on a mission, waving her hands in the air when she spoke.

“And if you’re not doing that then you’re bitching about me through the walkie talkies. Or giving me dirty looks. I try my best to pass it off and rise above it Yvie but tonight I just can’t anymore, I just want to live and breathe without you looking at me like I’ve shot Bambi’s mother. Like what did I even do to you?”

‘Everything,’ Yvie thought only it came out as a blunt “nothing” instead. “You’re the one that was embarrassed to be seen with me in public.”

“I wasn’t embarrassed, Yvie. Sorry it took me a minute to try and think of something other than ‘a girl I drive around even though she hates me.’” Scarlet kept taking glances between the road and her phone, not meeting Yvie’s eyes. “Or doesn’t hate me, apparently. And I just had plans after our next shift.”

Without knowing what she was doing, Yvie reached out to grab her hand, slipping her fingers through Scarlet’s and clasping like they had done the day Scarlet was scared by the balloon. Scarlet was right. Maybe she was too fast to jump to conclusions. She was up in the sky leaping on the trampolines at work whilst Scarlet was grounded by the cafe, taking herself to a whole new narrative that didn’t really exist. In other words, she’d fucked it.

“I don’t hate you.” Yvie expected Scarlet to let go. She didn’t.

“Well, you don’t act like it.”

But her hand didn’t leave, Yvie had hope. Not a lot, just a slither like the piece of Scarlet’s hair that stayed in front of her face when she pushed the rest back. But it was still hope, it was still something.

“Please just let me explain.” Yvie tried to make Scarlet understand.

She’d spent years trying to dial and change how she spoke. If the black girl in the class raised her voice then she was angry but if she didn’t put up a fight with her words then nobody would take her seriously. All she wanted was to be honest, but the words were flying around her head and wouldn’t stop to land. And then Scarlet’s Uber started to pull up and they were going even faster. Scarlet turned to look at her and Yvie watched as she opened her mouth for a second but no words came out, her eyes frustrated and begging Yvie to fix things.

She waited for the rejection, for Scarlet to push her away as she moved closer, for her to call Yvie crazy and jump in the car, ready to make her time at work even more of a living hell than she already did. But as her lips met Scarlet’s, it never came.

“Your Uber.” Yvie pulled away slightly, their faces only an inch apart and Scarlet gasping for breath. She could feel Scarlet’s sticky gloss on her own lips but didn’t dare wipe at it, wanting the moment to go on like that for as long as it could.

“I guess I’ve gotten used to riding in the car with someone.” Scarlet took her hand again once the car pulled up, their eyes communicating in their own language that Yvie didn’t have the words to explain.

Yvie pulled her phone out to text the girls and tell them she’d headed home, dropping another one to home with an excuse for staying out, feeling Scarlet on her neck as they clambered into the backseat. They didn’t speak for a short while, Yvie simply placed her arm around Scarlet’s shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she hadn’t spent months terrified of making contact with her.

“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” Scarlet whispered in her ear, her hand burning hot on Yvie’s thigh.

Suddenly Scarlet’s flair for the dramatics was wiped clean from her mental list of things that irked her, replaced accordingly with the concept of clothing, more specifically jeans. Her jeans, that she regretted spending a lot of money on - wishing she’d settled for the paper-thin pair Nina had told her to get from Primark instead. In fact, she’d have paid more for the thin pair right then. Paid anything for Scarlet’s hand to live there just a little bit longer. Yvie let the back of her head hit the seat, lost in the moment until they pulled up to Scarlet’s house.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Scarlet spoke after unlocking the door. “My sister’s home.”

“Does noise even travel here?” Yvie looked around the foyer only half-joking, stopping to chuckle at a big photo of Scarlet and her sister as kids. “Adorable.”

“If you’re loud enough.” Scarlet raised a brow and motioned for Yvie to follow her upstairs, sending tingles through her body at her words.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be the one who needs to worry about keeping quiet.” Yvie let Scarlet lead her to her room, throwing themselves down on the four-poster almost immediately.

It felt weird finally being in Scarlet’s room after spending so long of interacting at work. She couldn’t say she hadn’t pictured it, often imagining Scarlet painting her toes on top of magazines or picking out her outfit each morning. Too distracted to get a proper look at all the photo frames and trinkets around, Yvie made a mental note to make a joke the next day about how she’d always assumed Scarlet had one of those grey crushed velvet headboards like the girls on Twitter.

It was crazy how something could feel so wrong and so right at the same time. Scarlet’s body pressing into her own, it was so insane yet made complete sense. She felt familiar.

Before she knew it Scarlet’s thumb was rubbing over the fabric of her bodysuit, teasing at her nipple through the lace.

Yvie had never been more grateful for her decision not to wear a bra.

“Are you sure you want this?” Scarlet asked her, pausing in her movement to look Yvie in the eyes and confirm. “We can’t go back.”

Yvie knew what she meant, thinking of all the shifts she’d have to spend with her, pinning Scarlet’s new promotional posters around the park, being watched to make sure she placed them in the exact right spots. She’d be unavoidable. But Yvie didn’t care.

“I’ve wanted this ever since you stole a Coke Zero from the cafe.”

Apparently, that was all Scarlet needed, taking the opportunity to smash her lips against Yvie’s, letting their bodies melt into each other. Again and again and again until Yvie was weak with fatigue and let her head hit the pillow one final time. Her vision blurred, she could just make out Scarlet’s figure among all of the stars as the girl switched off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed beside her. They hadn’t just shaken the earth but the whole solar system too, galaxies swirling around the room and lulling Yvie to sleep.

A sleep she’d have happily basked in forever if she hadn’t woken with a jolt the next morning, the sun beaming through the blinds to cast light on the empty side of the bed next to her.

“Morning,” Scarlet’s spoke from across the room, wearing a pair of glasses that Yvie had never seen before as she looked up from the papers at her desk. Yvie suddenly understood Scarlet’s constant examining gaze - she wasn’t scanning Yvie’s insides for error codes, just a tad bit blind.

Grabbing her phone from the bedside, a groan escaped Yvie’s mouth as she saw the time, of course, Scarlet was awake at nine in the morning after a night out. After what Yvie would estimate to be at least two hours of sex. Kind of intense sex. If it hadn’t been for Scarlet’s pretty face and messy hair then Yvie would have snatched the nearest pillow and thrown it over her head, instead, keeping an eye open to watch her whilst fighting exhaustion.

She wondered how long it would take them to address it. In the past, Yvie had never felt awkward discussing a hookup, giving a compliment or laughing it off as a drunken mishap like she had with Priyanka that time. The thought crossed her mind for a second, thinking she could make a joke about how smashed they were before ringing Brooke to take her home as fast as she could but Yvie decided against it. If Yvie was anything then Yvie was honest. And she knew what happened was not a drunken mistake. At least not on her end, she didn’t know if the same could be said for Scarlet, sat twiddling her pen around in her hand as though Yvie wasn’t lying in her bed and her gold dress wasn’t in a heap on the floor, thrown there in a moment of passion. Looking at it made her laugh, thinking of how fast she’d gone from describing Scarlet’s whining as the human equivalent of a dog whistle wit Jaida, to finding herself turned on by it. Scarlet must have noticed her looking, placing the pen down.

“I think you owe me a new zipper for that.” She pointed to the dress, raising a brow at Yvie.

“Sorry, I’ll take it to get fixed.” Yvie went to step out of bed before realising her own clothes were just as haphazardly spread as Scarlet’s.

“I’m kidding,” Scarlet smiled. “I’ll get you some joggers to borrow.”

“You own tracksuit bottoms?” Yvie fake gasped as Scarlet pulled open a drawer, surprising herself at how quickly they returned to their usual exchanges. There she was making fun of Scarlet for being all posh and dramatic, it was like nothing had changed. Except she was in Scarlet’s bed. Naked. And they’d had sex. Maybe a lot had changed.

“Oh my god, I just got it.” Scarlet pointed a finger to Yvie and let out one of her classic giggles. “That is hilarious.”

“What is?” Yvie pulled the clothes Scarlet had given her on quickly, automatically ready with her defence.

“That face you always pull at me! I honestly thought it was just your expression of pure hatred at my being but it’s not, you were eyeing me up!”

Yvie stifled a laugh at Scarlet’s hysteria, her cheeks turning the slightest bit red. “I don’t pull a face at you.”

“You so do. Like this.” Scarlet did her best to impersonate her.

“I don’t do that. And I don’t eye you up either, you’re so annoying.”

“Want me to prove you do?” Scarlet flipped the conversation and caught Yvie off guard.

She hadn’t expected round two to come at all nevermind that fast, but she most certainly wasn’t mad at it.

The same could have also been said for round three, which happened around a week later when Yvie just so happened to take her lunch break at the same time as Scarlet, following her out to her car and letting Scarlet drive a couple of minutes to somewhere more secluded. The sun beamed down through the windscreen and glistened on Scarlet’s pale skin as they moved together rapidly, the pair already becoming familiar with the little easter eggs that made each other tick.

“Ten minutes to spare, wow.” Yvie checked the time on her phone, allowing herself to lie back in as much comfort as she could given that she was in the back of a rather tiny car with a rather tall girl by her side.

“What are we doing?” Scarlet sat up, hitting her head slightly on the roof but not acknowledging it, a trait Yvie had picked up on before having watched Scarlet’s clumsy legs take many tumbles around the centre only for her to keep walking like it hadn’t happened (Yvie always found this funnier than the fall itself, especially that one time it was a running child that sent Scarlet tumbling, utterly priceless).

“Erm, lying in the back of your car trying to remember how to breathe?” Yvie knew it wasn’t the answer she was looking for but gave it nonetheless.

“No. This, us. What is this?”

Yvie wished she knew the answer. At first, she didn’t know how to approach her, bringing the borrowed clothes to work in a carrier bag ready to return, only to be left silent once Scarlet came to the counter to fulfil her caffeine addiction that day. But Scarlet managed to break the ice, making a subtle joke about her lack of regret as she took the bottle from Yvie’s hand. It was bittersweet - Yvie knew there was a clear distinction between having no regrets and wanting to do something again, and she was at least seventy per cent sure she wanted to do it again. Ninety-nine once the opportunity had finally risen again, Scarlet dangling her car keys in front of Yvie like the forbidden fruit of Eden. An apple she couldn’t help but take a bite from, no matter how much it would bite her back later.

So Yvie thought about her answer, she didn’t want to get this one wrong. The natural answer was that they were friends, only Yvie knew they weren’t. They were less than friends, they didn’t chat and gossip like friends and frankly she couldn’t stand Scarlet most of the time, the chatting and gossiping with her actual friends at work usually revolving around that fact. Yet they were also so much more, Yvie’s eyes followed the girl wherever she went like she was being guided home and her heart had just about snapped in two when she saw Scarlet upset.

Maybe it wasn’t Scarlet she hated but instead the way she felt about her. Or the way she didn’t even understand what that feeling was. Perhaps that is what she’d hated all along.

“I don’t know.” Yvie stepped outside to straighten her uniform and move to the passenger seat.

“You don’t know?” Scarlet joined her in the front, slamming her door a tad too hard once her foot was inside. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“Well, do you?” Yvie retaliated.

“I’m the one who asked in the first place!”

As much as she wanted to, Yvie couldn’t deny she had a point there.

“Well whatever it is, I’m glad to see we disagree on it already,” Yvie replied as Scarlet started to drive back to work.

“You can take me on a date sometime if you’d like.” Scarlet let the words jump out of her mouth quickly just before the traffic lights turned green, acting completely casual and nonchalant just like she had after hitting her head as if nothing had happened at all.

“A date?” Yvie’s voice raised an octave higher than it should have.

“You know where two people who kind of fancy each other go and get food? It’s a pretty basic term, I thought you’d know seen as you’re crazy clever and going to the best University in the country.”

Yvie choked on her water and sent it flying down the wrong way, a mess of coughs and splutters next to Scarlet’s pristine self. It wouldn’t have been the worst way to die, at least she’d never feel the embarrassment afterwards and have the dignity of knowing she’d given the girl a good time just before.

“I haven’t gotten in yet.” Yvie’s mind was thrown away from the conversation and back to the impending doom of her University application. Thank god she always had Scarlet to remind her of the massive feat she was trying to achieve.

“You can say no if you want, I don’t care.” Scarlet pulled into the car park, not really caring that her wheels were at a forty-five-degree angle and only just within the lines.

Yvie thought of all the times she had come up with convoluted methods to avoid Scarlet’s presence after their first meeting, of that first day she’d been given a lift home and how much had changed since then. Scarlet was confident and sometimes lived on a different planet to Yvie altogether but that didn’t hide her warmth, her wit or the big smile that came on her face whenever she tried to dance. And as much as she was shocked by her own thoughts, Yvie couldn’t deny that an evening with that warmth, wit and smile was all she really needed to relieve her stress.

“Well, where would you like to go for food then?” Yvie asked her as they entered the building, ready to part ways until the end of the day.

“Sorry, you’ll have to come up with that one on your own.” Scarlet grinned. “And please don’t fuck it up, Yvie.”

#rpdr fanfiction #if we walk down this road #got my number #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #scyvie #lesbian au #sixth form au #high school au #british au #enemies to lovers #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #ashley #tw references to racism and racial sterotypes #concrit welcome

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