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wicked-mind · 4 years ago

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Once More With Feeling

Summary: When Steve brings an enhanced human with the ability to sense and manipulate emotions/feelings to join the team, she has an immediate interest in the puzzle known as James Bucky Barnes. And Bucky can’t help but be infatuated with her abilities and eventually her.

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, mentions of torture.

Italics are used for flashbacks/memories.

All Writings Masterlist

As always, any likes, comments, or reblogs are deeply appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

“Who’s that?” Y/N asked Sam with a smile, nodding over towards the man sitting on the patio with a beer bottle in his hand, staring off into the distance with a grim look on his features. He wore a black leather jacket that was zipped up to the collar, dark pants, boots tied perfectly, and black gloves on his hands.

“Ah that’s James. His friends get to call him Bucky.” Sam told her, tucking his hands in his pocket, “It’s a very exclusive group though. Consists of just Steve.”

Y/N looked up at Sam, raising an eyebrow, “Is that a bit of… can I call it annoyed jealousy?” She asks with a teasing smile, nudging him with her shoulder slightly, “What, you jealous you’re not Cap’s bestie or annoyed that James won’t let you be his?”

Sam looked down at her shaking his head, “Can you not do the whole reading thing right now?” He asked with a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“Sorry, it’s just radiating off of you.” Y/N said with a small laugh before looking back out the glass door to the man referred to as James sat alone, “I’m going to go talk to him.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at her, “Good luck with that, Y/N. He’s a man of little to no words. Or emotions. He also doesn’t blink very much.”

Y/N was already headed towards the door with a small smile on her lips, turning her head over her shoulder to look at Sam, “That’s alright. I love staring contests.” She told him before walking out the glass door, shutting it behind her. Y/N walked over to the small metal table Bucky was sitting at, plopping herself on the chair across from him silently. She allowed her eyes to study him. He had longer hair, almost brushing his shoulders. There was stubble covering his cheeks and chin and he constantly looked like he was deep in thought, so much so in fact that little crease between his furrowed eyebrows could be permanent. She didn’t say anything, just sat silently in the chair as she stared into his eyes.

Bucky watched the woman. He had heard they were getting a new team member but didn’t bother to get to know much about her. It was somebody Steve had found and thought could be useful to the team but he didn’t know much more than that. He looked her over as she sat, she was wearing a long sleeved black shirt with blue jeans and combat boots. He was curious about the red leather gloves she wore though, he’d never really seen anybody else besides him wearing gloves constantly. He stared into her eyes, watching her closely. What was she doing? Why did she come to sit by him when there were so many other places to be? Bucky had came out here to be alone as he always did. He liked to be alone, in his own personal bubble lost in his thoughts. There was something about sitting outside alone and night where he felt peace. Maybe being under the stairs with the breeze on his face reminded him of his time in Wakanda, he didn’t know what it was but it was his favorite moment of the day. And now there was this new team member just staring at him. When her eyebrow twitched upwards slightly as if to challenge him, he narrowed his blue eyes at her and placed the beer bottle on the table never breaking eye contact. Bucky places his gloved hands on the table intertwined and leans slightly forward, staring, almost glaring, into her eyes. But the more he just stared the more he felt… what was that? Comfort? His irritation was fading away as he stared into those eyes, almost feeling lost and mesmerized in them at this point. Once he couldn’t take the staring anymore he sighs and leans back in his chair, looking away from her and out into the distance again, “What are you doing?”

Steve had found Y/N after she accidentally helped on a mission. She had a special ability that he thought could be very useful not only on missions but just in general so he asked her to join the team or at least give it a try. Y/N had agreed and now here she was, across from the dark haired, constantly in pain looking man having a staring contest. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her ability consisted of being able to read emotions and feelings of those around her and also manipulate them if she touched them, hence why she wore the gloves. She never wanted to touch someone and manipulate their feelings without their consent because she believed everybody was entitled to how they feel and there were reasons people felt the way they do. But that all broke off when Steve offered her the job. She would be helpful on missions, being able to get enemies to cooperate with the good guys instead of being all nasty and evil. Y/N could feel the pain, the anger, the lostness but she could see that plain as day in his eyes. When he broke the staring off and asked the question, she leaned back in the chair, “Did you know there’s multiple studies that show that staring into someone’s eyes can show their true intentions to you and show if you can trust them? They also say eyes are the window to the soul, able to process other’s emotions and what they’re feeling deep inside.”

Bucky’s lips curved slightly downwards at her words. She had stared at him to get information about him, was that it? He took a sip of his beer and looked back over to her, “You could’ve just asked instead of treating me like a study. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.” He spat out at her but almost immediately felt bad. She wasn’t wrong, he stared into her eyes and saw nothing but openness. Even now she was being open with him, truthful. God dammit, all it took was a damn staring contest for him to have a spark of trust for her, “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Y/N.” She told him, a small smile curving to her lips, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” She said as she stared into his eyes, letting him know she was truly sorry if she offended him, “Sam said you like to stare and I’m pretty kick-ass at staring contests. Couldn’t help myself.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly again at her as she apologized to him, then looks away again as he took another sip of his beer, letting out a slight sigh, “So you’re the one Steve brought back. Why would he do that?” He said almost coldly thought he didn’t mean for it to come across that way.

Y/N shrugs, “He thought I could be helpful here and on certain missions given my abilities.” She told him, watching him even though he wasn’t looking at her.

“And what are your abilities?” Bucky asked, looking over towards her curiously before looking down to her gloved hands, “Are you missing an arm too? Did he think we could bond about it?”

Y/N almost chuckled at his words then shook her head at him with a small smile, “No, I have both arms in tact. Which now would be a good time to tell you I’m sorry about yours, must’ve been a big loss that I’m sure you’re still dealing with everyday.” She watched as Bucky looked at her almost shocked for a slight second at her words. She figured nobody must’ve told him they were sorry for what happened to his arm, or acknowledge the loss he still felt of his left arm even though it had been replaced with a vibranium arm, “I like to call myself a reader. I can sense the emotions and feelings of those around me and if I touch you, I can manipulate those feelings. For example, I can make someone feel more cooperative with a single touch. I can provide happiness. Love. There is the darker side to it though. I can also make people feel pain, feel like their drowning, feel like they’re on fire or in the deepest pit of despair.” She said, looking down at her gloved hands, “Sometimes when I touch people, I can’t help but try and make them feel better. Touching people lets me feel their emotions more personally than just sensing them. It’s an automatic response to try and help fix it but I believe that everybody has a reason for feeling how they do and they can choose need to sort through their own emotions on their own.”

Bucky swallowed hard at her words. Only one question came into his mind of her and he was halfway worried to ask it. As if she knew he was dancing around the question, she smiled over to him encouragingly and the question just sort of slipped out, “Can you make someone feel relief? Feel…. less guilty?”

Y/N bit her lip at his question, watching him for a moment before pulling off one of her red gloves and setting her hand in the middle of the table outstretched towards him, palm face up to give him the choice to touch her.

Bucky looked down at her hand, hesitating whether he should touch her or not but curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to feel some sort of relief. Sure, he had made all his amends in the notebook but that didn’t mean he felt any sort of relief, any sort of happiness or hope. He slowly took the glove off of his right flesh hand, reaching out and hovering his hand over her’s for a moment before looking into her eyes and resting his fingertips into her palm. Immediately at the touch of her skin, a slow sense of relief filled his body and he closed his eyes at the feeling. He tilted his head back slightly and his lips parted the smallest bit at the feeling he had longed to feel. It was relief and hope with no guilt anywhere in his body or mind. He wanted to stay like this forever, keep this feeling inside him even if it wasn’t truly real. He didn’t notice his hand had moved to hold her’s, gripping tightly not wanting to let go. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes to look down at their hands and quickly pulled away, “I’m sorry.. for lingering… I shouldn’t have…”

Y/N shook her head at him, pulling her hand back and putting the glove back on, “Don’t worry about it, I’m happy to help anytime you need it. I’ll help you until you don’t need me to feel relief, hope. Although, if you do come to me to for help, you do have to teach me some self defense. I pretty much know nothing and Steve says you know everything about it.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile and he nodded slowly, “Alright. You have a deal.”

Bucky stood outside the landing pad, his arms crossed as he watched the quinjet touch down. There had been a new organization that had made themselves known called the Peace Keepers. They had a mission to capture all known people with any type of superhuman abilities or those they deemed posed a threat to the rest of the ‘normal’ population. They were ruthless, kidnapping any type of enhanced human and either making an example out of them or the person was never seen again. They didn’t have very many leads so when Steve got word that a local police department in Seattle had captured one of the Peace Keepers, he immediately took Y/N and Sam with him to try and confront him. Bucky always worried when Y/N went on missions even though he had trained her well in offense and defense, she was still a human and could get hurt easily. As the quinjet bay doors opened, Bucky’s arms uncrossed at the sight. Sam and Steve were walking out shaking their heads at each other with grim looks on their faces. Bucky immediately started walking towards them at a brisk pace, his eyes scanning for any sign of Y/N. When he didn’t see her, he looked to Steve, “Where is she? What happened?” But the look in Steve’s eyes was all he needed to confirm the fear he had.

Steve sighed and shook his head slightly, a defeated look written all over his face, “It was a set up, Buck. I’m sorry, the Peace Keepers took her.”

It’s been a few months since Bucky met Y/N. He hated to admit it but he liked being around her. She could sense his emotions and knew when he just needed to sit in silence or when he needed to talk and it was comforting to know someone had some sort of understanding of what he was going through. She helped him whenever he needed whether it be someone to talk to, to sit with, or even using her ability to help him when he was feeling the worst. Y/N seemed so pure to him, like a ray of sunshine in the dark world that surrounded him. He always felt at his best when she was in his presence even if she wasn’t using her ability. He loved training with her, even if he was a little tough on her at times she never held it against him. She was a quick learner and even asked him to teach her some knife tricks after he showed her his extensive knife collection.

Tonight was a bad night for Bucky though. Every time he closed his eyes the nightmares of the Winter Soldier took over his mind. He was waking up what seemed like every ten minutes dripping in sweat and he could feel himself slowly breaking due to the lack of sleep and anxiety that riddled his body. He pulled himself out of his bed, pulling on some grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt before walking out of his room. It was early in the morning hours and he thought nobody would be up, but as if Y/N knew he needed some help, she was sitting outside where they usually sat every night waiting for him with a twelve pack of beer sitting on the table. Bucky couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight before taking a seat in the chair next to her, grabbing a beer and opening it before taking a long swig, “You waiting for me?” He asks her after putting the bottle back on the table. He had never seen so much skin exposed on her. She was wearing a tank top, no gloves, and long black pajama pants with red roses on them. He had never seen her arms before and just now he noticed she had small tattoos littering both arms, but they weren’t so much a sleeve as just randomly placed across her skin like she just closed her eyes and picked a spot.

Y/N shrugs over to him, taking a sip of her already open beer, “I figured I’d meet you out here eventually. I’m three beers in, Barnes. You got some catching up to do.”

“Bucky.” He said to her and when she looked at him sort of confused he quickly added, “Call me Bucky, that’s what I meant.”

Y/N smiles and nods, “Alright, Bucky. Does this mean I’m part of the super exclusive Bucky Barnes friend group?”

“That sounds like something Sam told you.” Bucky responds with a small smile, bringing the bottle up to his lips again for a drink.

“Oh yeah, he very much told me that.” She responded with a soft laugh, “But I am extremely honored to be accepted into the group.”

Bucky chuckles over to her, finishing the rest of his beer and setting the empty bottle on the table before grabbing another one, “One down, two to go.” He told her, cracking open the next bottle. His eyes lingered over her tattoos, wondering what they all meant to her, “I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

Y/N shrugs slightly, looking down at her own arms at the scattered ink, “Oh yeah, I mostly keep them covered up so nobody accidentally brushes my skin and gets feelings they aren’t ready to feel.”

Bucky nods, “What do they mean to you?” He asks curiously, wanting to know more about her.

Y/N looks down and points at three butterflies that were placed above her wrist, looking like they were flying up her arms, “This one reminds me that I’m free.” She moves to point to another one that was a purple iris with a date in the stem, “This is for my mom. She passed away from cancer a few years ago. She was the only one that loved me unconditionally.” She moved to one that was just the number thirteen in a fancy font, “This is my lucky number.” She looked at her other arm and pointed to a small yellow sunflower, “My favorite flower. My mom used to send me to pick wild sunflowers when my dad was home. He wasn’t a very good man.” Her eyes flickered to Bucky who was nodding each time she explained, entranced with her tattooed skin so she continued, pointing to one that looked like a human heart, “This one is to remember to wear my heart on my sleeve because I’m cheesy like that. I have a lot more but they’re all covered up right now.”

Bucky nodded, slightly smiling at the last one before noticing one she hadn’t pointed out yet. It was in the crook of her elbow where someone would put an IV but it had the red cursive words ‘fuck you’ around a large circular scar, “And that one?” He asks, pointing towards it and raising an eyebrow. All her other tattoos were cute but this one had a curse word plastered right on her skin.

Y/N looked down at it, biting her lip gently before looking up towards him and taking a sip of her beer before she spoke, “That one is for my dad. Like I said, he wasn’t a good man. He put out a cigar there, hence the scar and I decided to tattoo fuck you on it.” She said, and even though the story of her childhood wasn’t one she liked to share, she would always be honest with Bucky. Her father was a very abusive man and eventually the abuse went from only on her mother to her until she and her mom ran away to get away from him.

Bucky looked at her sadly for a moment, wondering what her childhood was like. Her father sounded evil from the bits she shared, but yet here she was all sunshine and smiles through her pain. He felt a small bit of jealousy for the way she was able to handle trauma, but mostly just sadness for her and a need to protect her from those things, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N shrugs at him, “It’s alright. It’s a part of me that made me who I am even if it is a dark and twisted part. I like who I am now, and even if I don’t like how I got here, the best I can do is keep moving forward.” She watched him for a moment before tilting her head, “So what has you coming out here at this hour looking for me?”

Bucky swallowed dryly, bringing his beer bottle up to his lips and taking a long drink before answering her, “Nightmares have been bad tonight.” He said quietly, almost as if ashamed to seem weak as he looked down at his ungloved hands, “Every time I get to sleep I just see him. The things he did. I didn’t want to bother you so I was coming out here to find some peace.” He looked over to her, “But here you are, waiting for me.”

Y/N smiled gently over to him, reaching her hand across the table for him to touch if he’d like. As she watched him reach out his flesh hand to touch her’s, she pulled back a little, “Answer me this first, Bucky.” She said, “How are you feeling right now?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed at her words, blinking a little as he thought about it. How did he feel? Certainly better than when he first trudged out here. Talking to Y/N calmed him, just being in her presence made the anxiety and panic he felt in his body melt away. He slowly looked at her, “I feel… Better.”

“No, Bucky.” Y/N told him, shaking her head gently, “I know exactly what you feel, remember? You feel relieved. You feel hopeful. All on your own without needing my touch.” She said with a smile over towards him, watching his lips curve into a small smile at her words, “My ability may be a quick cheat to getting you what you need to feel, but what is even better is when you can feel that all by yourself without my touch.”

“I like your touch though.” Bucky blurted out before flinching at his own words.God he must’ve sounded like an idiot, “I… uhm…” He said, scanning his brain for anyway to cover that up.

Y/N chuckles and smiles at him, reaching over and taking his hand in her’s, “That’s alright. I like your touch too.” She said, “We’ve done this enough times I’ve figured out how to keep myself from messing with your emotions when I touch you. So whatever you’re feeling right now, that’s all you buddy. You’re stronger than you know.”

Bucky smiled over at her, immediately feeling something at her touch. He didn’t know what it was but he believed her when she said he wasn’t toying with his emotions at her touch. He felt warm but his stomach was also twisting. No, not twisting. He didn’t know what the feeling in his stomach was, but all he knew was that he liked it. Could this be happiness he was feeling? Happiness that wasn’t given to him by her ability, but by the way she spoke to him and touched him.

Bucky immediately lost his temper, punching his vibranium arm into a wall that easily collapsed around it and formed a large hole. Y/N had been taken. His safe place had been taken from him. He should’ve gone with them on the mission, he had tried but Steve told him they had it handled. He felt lost in guilt and anger, wondering if Y/N was one of the bodies they would find days later or if she was going to be one of the enhanced humans that were taken only to never be seen again.

“We’ll get her back,” Sam said, placing a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder which was quickly shrugged away, “I got redwing trying to track down the trucks they escaped in.”

Bucky turned to look at Sam, an angry vein popping out of his neck, “Oh, we are just going to rely on your stupid little mechanical bird then? Hope that it can figure shit out?”

“Calm down, Buck.” Steve said, folding his arms across his chest and stepping to stand between the two, “It’s not his fault, he’s trying to help.”

“No, you’re right Steve.” Bucky said, turning his angry glare to his best friend, “It’s yours. If you would’ve just let me come maybe none of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t have let them take her. I would’ve protected her.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky at his choice of words, looking at Sam and giving him a nod as if to tell him that they needed a minute. Once Sam was out of earshot, he turned his attention back to Bucky, “We didn’t let her get taken. We were ambushed. It was a set up, Buck.” He said sternly, “What’s gotten into you?” His gaze softened a little bit at the look in Bucky’s eyes, “She has, hasn’t she?”

Bucky looked around, anywhere but meeting Steve’s gaze because he was right. He had developed feelings for Y/N and now that she was out of his grasp, taken away from him he was realizing everything he felt for her. It wasn’t just friendship. The night he talked to her when she showed him her tattoos and held his hand that feeling in his stomach was butterflies, a crush forming and he didn’t get the chance to tell her. Now he didn’t know if he would see her again, “She has, Steve…” Bucky finally softly said, “She’s like an angel that just came into my life and showed me how to process through things. Showed me what it’s like to have hope, happiness. Relief.” His flesh hand came up to run through his long hair, “And now she’s gone, taken. And we don’t know where or what is happening to her and I’ve never told her how important she is to me.”

Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, trying not to smile at the fact Bucky had found someone because the circumstances wouldn’t allow it. But he was genuinely happy that Bucky was doing better and vowed to himself that he would do everything to get Y/N back for Bucky, “Y/N can read your emotions as soon as she enters the same room as you. She knows, Bucky.” He told him, squeezing his shoulder gently, “And we will get her back so you can tell her. I promise.”

“I know why you’re always eating those plums.” Y/N said, looking at Bucky who had pulled a plum out to snack on after training with her.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, throwing the plum up in the air before catching it, a small grin on his lips, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Y/N smiles, reaching out and taking the plum from him in her gloved hand and looking at it, “Plums have antioxidants to protect the brain from cell degeneration and also help with memory. I would actually be surprised if you didn’t eat them constantly.” She told him, holding the plum back to him to take.

Bucky shook his head and couldn’t help but chuckle a little at her correct answer. When he was regaining his memory, he did extensive study on foods that helped your brain and memory and plums happened to be his favorite, “You’re smart, Y/N.”

“I know.” Y/N said with a smile.

Y/N opened her eyes slowly, groaning to herself. The last thing she remembered is that she was trying to get a read on the Peace Keeper in custody before the station they were in was ambushed by many more minions of the Peace Keepers. As Sam and Steve fought them off, a man came face to face with her. They fought for a little bit before the man pressed a syringe into her neck, causing the world to fade to darkness around her. Now, as she looked around the room she was in, she noticed she was strapped to a chair with duct tape in a small cement room almost like a cell. Her attention was caught when a man entered through the steel door in front of her, tilting her head slightly. She could feel his emotions and all he exuded was dominance and power.

“Welcome, Y/N.” He said towards her, his long blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, “I’m so excited you’re here. I have such great plans for you.”

“What are you thinking about, Bucky?” Y/N asks, laying on the grass next to him as they looked up at the stars. She didn’t wear her gloves around him anymore or hide her skin which made her feel more comfortable, more herself.

Bucky’s arms were stretched behind his head, his eyes glued to the dark sky that was littered with twinkling stars, “My amends. After I came back from the blip, Steve and Sam helped me get pardoned by the government except I had to do these therapy sessions. I had a list of everybody that either used the Winter Soldier or those the Winter Soldier wronged, wanting to make amends.”

Y/N turned onto her side to look at him, studying his face, “Did you finish your list?”

Bucky tilted his head over to look at her, “I did. Feels like I didn’t though.” He told her honestly. He was always honest with Y/N. She was the only other person that was easy to talk to besides Steve.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him as if trying to figure something out just by looking at him, “Maybe it’s because you didn’t put your own name on the list. The Winter Soldier wronged you too, Buck. Maybe it’s time to start making amends to yourself so you can truly finish your amends list. Tell yourself that you are James Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier anymore, and that you would like to make amends. Maybe it’ll make you feel like it’s complete.”

Bucky stared at her in awe. How did Y/N do that? How did she saw all the right things at the right time to him like she knew what he needed to hear? He moved his right hand to reach over and grip onto her’s, intertwining their fingers with a smile before looking up at the stars, “I think you’re right.”

“Well I don’t want to brag, but I usually am.”

Redwing returned to Sam after two weeks and losing track of where the Peace Keepers and Y/N were taken which only irritated Bucky more. He wanted to go to Seattle immediately and look for her himself but just when he was arguing with Steve and Sam about it, all the monitors in the briefing room suddenly turned on and started flashing imagines of the Peace Keeper’s symbol before footage of Y/N appeared on the screen. There were people holding her and making her touch a wall over and over again, holding her up even though she looked like she was asleep and collapsing. A voice started speaking on the screens though it seemed like it had been disguised because it was so deep, “As you can see and already know, we have taken one of your team. Y/N Y/L/N. We may not have the technology or methods used to create the obedience the Winter Soldier had, but we have our own methods.” The screen changed to show Y/N being tortured in different ways, breaking down her psyche by forcing her to do things and if she refused, she was either struck or was forced into freezing cold water. They were breaking her down and turning her submissive to their will. Bucky flinched at the images, he had trained her to fight and defend herself but not how to stay strong under torture, “Breaking down the mind, spirit and soul of a being is messy, but our methods are effective. Within one week of continuous strain on her mind due to no sleep and our training, Y/N has become submissive to simple commands. By week two, she has completely bent to our will and we unlocked her abilities to make it so she doesn’t have to touch people to manipulate them. With her, we will be able to bend anybody to our will.” The images changed from Y/N being tortured to her causing them to scream in pain that they felt like they were on fire and scratch at their skin until they were ripping their own skin off, “Let this be a warning to all enhanced beings. We will find you. We will bend you to our will. We will make you our soldiers. You are dangerous and the Peace Keepers will keep you in line.” Then the screens turned off.

Bucky shook his head, “I’ve read everything on brainwashing when I got my memories back. They’re using old soviet methods as well as methods L. Ron Hubbard used.”

“The scientology guy?” Sam asks confused as to what he had to do with anything.

Bucky nodded over to him, folding his arms tightly across his chest, “They believed that if you could make someone do something as simple like only touching a wall over and over again for days without sleep, food, or water, they could break your will and psyche. Make you do anything. That’s what they did to her, making her believe her only purpose is to do what they say or there will be punishment.” Steve ran his hand through his blonde hair slowly processing the information, “So she’s basically brainwashed. Not only can she manipulate emotions but she can make people feel pain instantly without touching them now, make them feel like they’re on fire until their bodies just give out.” He looked over to Sam and Bucky, “They’re going to find more enhanced humans to do this to, use her to make them comply with their orders.”

Bucky nodded, trying his best to get the images of Y/N being tortured out of his mind and remember her as she really is. He felt anger but going on a rampage wasn’t going to help at this point, “And where do we know of that they keep a bunch of enhanced beings?” “The Raft prison.” Sam said with a sigh. He’d been locked up there before until Steve broke them out. It was an awful place but if Steve could break his team members out, the Peace Keepers and their followers sure as hell could with the help of Y/N/

“Tell me about yourself, Bucky. Not the things I know…” Y/N said as they walked along the grass, twirling a wildflower between her fingers, “Who you really were in the forties.”

Bucky had his hands tucked in his jean pockets as they walked, “Oh, darlin, you would’ve loved me.” He said looking over to her with a grin, “All the girls did. I was kind of a player.”

Y/N laughs a little, “A player, huh? I don’t think I could picture that. So you used to be cocky and confident then?”

“Hell yeah.” Bucky said to her, “I had ladies lining up just to dance with Sergeant James Barnes. Always had my arms over at least two women’s shoulders.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at him with a smile, “Alright, I get it. You were the ladies man of the 1940’s.” She said, glancing up at him, “So, ladies man, were you ever in love? A lucky lady waiting for the handsome Sergeant Barnes back home?”

Bucky squinted his eyes into the distance at the question before looking over at her with that crooked smile only she could bring out of him, “Nah, nobody waiting for me except my family. But I once spent all my money trying to win a girl named Dot a prize at Cooney Island. Does that count as love?” He asks before stopping in his spot and tilting his head down at her, “Wait, you think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t think spending all your money on a woman counts. I think that’s just called being a Sugar Daddy.” Y/N stopped her steps when he did, turning and looking at him with a smirk, “Oh like you didn’t already know how handsome you are Mr. Cocky and Confident Ladies Man.”

When Sam, Steve, and Bucky arrived at the Raft prison on the quinjet, they were already under attack by the Peace Keepers. The only thing they had on their side was the element of surprise. They had discussed a plan on the way. Sam and Steve would keep the Peace Keepers busy while Bucky tried to get to Y/N. They infiltrated quickly, taking down the vast amount of the Peace Keeper followers until the got to the detention level where the enhanced beings were kept. That was where Y/N and the leaders of the Peace Keepers were, unlocking cells one by one and using Y/N to cause them pain or make them complicit to be captured. Steve and Sam immediately went to fighting the leaders of the Peace Keepers, pushing them into cells and slamming them shut to seal them in.

One of the Peace Keeper leaders stood next to Y/N. He turned to her, “Take them out.” He ordered.

Y/N looked at him with what could be considered dead, emotionless eyes before looking to Sam and Steve, “Pain.” Was all she said and instantly, Sam and Steve fell to the floor screaming and writhing on the floor.

“Y/N!” Bucky said, kicking one of the Peace Keeper leaders into the cell before turning his full attention on her, “Stop, you don’t want to do this.”

Y/N tilted her head at him and his words, her facial features unchanging. She then looked towards the Peace Keeper leader as it to ask for permission and he nodded toward her. Y/N returns her eyes on Bucky, “Pain.” Bucky winced at the sudden pain that erupted through his whole body besides his left vibranium arm. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to resist as every point of his body felt like it was on fire and he was being stabbed in every pore at the same time, “Y/N…” He growled out, taking slow steps towards her, “C’mon doll, it’s me, Bucky.” He groaned out, managing to get closer to her even though his body wanted to give out, join Sam and Steve who were still on the floor shaking. He managed to close the distance, using his vibranium arm to land a hard punch to the Peace Keeper leader next to Y/N, knocking him back into an open cell that slammed shut.

Y/N watched Bucky stand in front of her. His skin was covered with thick beads of sweat as he tried to resist the pain she was making him feel, “Paralyze.” She muttered out, watching his body fall to the floor.

Bucky laid on the floor, he couldn’t feel any part of his flesh body. But luckily, his vibranium arm didn’t seem to be affected by Y/N’s abilities. He reached out his vibranium arm, latching onto her ankle and pulling her down on top of him so her hands touched his skin. He needed to let her feel what he did, show her the emotions he felt hoping to ground her, “Y/N, listen to me.” He whispers out to her, feeling the paralysis start to fade when she made contact with his skin, “It’s me, Bucky. Mr. Cocky and Confident Ladies Man, remember?” Feeling his right flesh hand regain feeling, he reached a hand up to touch her cheek, “You are Y/N. Not a pawn for the Peace Keepers. You are everything good and you are as free as the butterflies on tattooed on your skin.”

Y/N shook her head at him, “No. I belong to the Peace Keepers.” She said to him softly. She was about to open her mouth again to cause him pain, but when her focus broke so did the hold she had on Steve and Sam. Sam quickly came flying in and kicked her off of Bucky, slamming her back against a wall hard enough to knock her out and fall to the floor.

Bucky was at her side immediately, glaring over at Sam, “I had it, birdbrain.” He spat out before his features softened as he brushed some hair from Y/N’s unconscious face.

“Yeah. You had all of that handled perfectly, Buck.” Sam said rolling his eyes, “She was about to twist you inside out. I saved you, man.”

Steve was busy informing the back up guards of the Raft prison on what had happened, helping them secure the Peace Keepers and the rest of the enhanced humans who weren’t in their cells.

Bucky lifts Y/N up from the cold floor gently, looking down at her, “I got you, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll take you home.”

“I like this place.” Y/N said, once again sitting with Bucky outside in the darkness of the night sharing a pack of beer as she stared up at the stars.

Bucky looked over at her curiously, wondering what she liked specifically about living at the facility. Their chairs were almost touching with how close they were sitting next to each other, “What do you like about it?”

Y/N turned her head to meet his gaze, “It just feels like home. Haven’t had that feeling in a long time.” A teasing smirk appeared on her lips suddenly towards him, “Plus I get to be a part of this really exclusive group, the Bucky Barnes friend group. Maybe you’ve heard of it? I keep suggesting we get matching jackets or something but nobody seems to agree.”

Bucky let out a laugh at her comment, “God, I’m never living that down. Thanks, Sam.” He said with a roll of his eyes and another swig of his beer, “And I wasn’t apposed to the matching jacket idea. Steve was. He said it would make Sam feel left out.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head, “Couldn’t have that.” She replies, “You may be able to fool everybody else, but I know he’s secretly your other other best friend. First best friend being Steve and the other being myself, then Sam.”

“It’s like being friends with a pigeon.” Bucky snorted, “Yeah, he isn’t all bad. Just sometimes his face does this thing that makes me mad. And he has that stupid RedWing robot he treats like a pet.”

“That thing with his face? That’s emotions, Bucky.” Y/N laughed again, “Emotions are normal. You and Steve are good at hiding your feelings, able to be stoic. But Sam wears all his feelings plain as day on his face. You can’t let that offend you, it’s just him being honest. But RedWing, yeah, I don’t understand why he treats it like a pet. That’s sort of weird.”

Bucky nodded to agree, drinking the rest of his beer he held in his left hand while his right hand subconsciously found Y/N’s intertwining their fingers and giving it a light squeeze.

Bucky looked down at Y/N who laid on the medical table. She seemed a little malnourished from being held captive for two weeks so Dr. Cho had an IV in her arm providing fluids and nutrition her body badly needed. Bucky was by her side constantly while she was under the light sedation Steve had suggested since they didn’t know if she would attack them or not. It had been days since Y/N had been brought back and Bucky was there at every moment he could be, holding onto her hand as they had done many times before. He was hoping, praying that Y/N was feeling all of the emotions he was just by his touch. He cared deeply for her, emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time since before World War II. He hoped she could feel his hope, the relief of her being here with him, the happiness just touching her made him feel… And the love he had been denying he felt for her. Bucky stood from his chair when he saw Y/N’s brow furrow as if she was about to wake up, squeezing her hand gently, “Y/N.” He breathed out to her, “Doll, you with me?”

Y/N opened her eyes lazily to look up at him, sensing his worry when she just stared at him. Slowly a smile came across her lips and she felt the relief instantly flood his body, “Bucky…” She managed to draw out though the sort of slurred from the sedation, “You love me.”

Bucky shook his head and chuckles down to her, “You felt that, huh?”

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes slowly and lazily blinking, “I feel everything.” She murmurs out, squeezing his hand gently, “I feel honored…. Does this mean you’re gonna spend all your money trying to win me a prize?”

Bucky leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, “Whatever you want, darlin. I’m pretty sure I can win those prizes first try now though.” He grinned down to her, “Rest, doll. I’ll get Dr. Cho to wean you off of the sedation.”

A Week Later

Y/N was pretty much back to normal. She had a few nightmares that kept lingering due to the torture she endured and the things she was forced to do. Bucky helped her through it, knowing himself what it felt like to forced to be a pawn and go through the haunting nightmares. He made an open invitation to his bedroom towards her, allowing her to come and snuggle up next to him so she didn’t feel alone. They hadn’t discussed what was said when Y/N came out of sedation, the whole Bucky loves her thing which made him worry and panic that she didn’t feel the same way.

Y/N and Bucky sat outside in their normal spot, sharing this time a bottle of whiskey. Their hand were interlocked and they were laughing about some story about how Steve used to have to wear newspapers in his shoes prior to being all super soldier. Then it got quiet and Bucky was staring over at Y/N, examine every feature on her face. Y/N looked over and met his gaze, “What you worrying about?”

Bucky smiles slightly, of course she felt his worry. He looked down at the whiskey glass in his hand before placing it on the table in front of them. He stood up, pulling her up with him while his other hand grabbed her glass and put it next to his on the table. Bucky kept his flesh hand interlocked with her’s, bringing his vibranium one up to gently stroke the skin on her cheek with his finger tips, “I love you.” He breathed out to her.

Y/N smiles and tilts her head at him, “I know.” She told him, squeezing his hand lightly and taking a step closer. She licks her lips, narrowing her eyes at him.

Bucky tilted his head at her, suddenly feeling overwhelming feelings of warmth flooded his body. It felt like electricity was running through his bones, enough to power cities. It was pure happiness like he'd never felt before. It was so powerful, it felt like magic, "What're you doing, sweetheart?"

Y/N's eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, "I'm showing you how you make me feel, Bucky." She said softly to him, "Because I love you too." Bucky grinned down at her at the sound of her reciprocation of love, moving his vibranium hand to the back of her neck and pulling her face towards his, connecting their lips in a deep kiss. His tongue traced her bottom lip until her lips parted, allowing his tongue access to intertwine with hers. After a few moments, he pulled away and looked down at her with nothing but happy eyes, “You’re my girl.”

Y/N smiled at him brightly, slightly breathless from the kiss between them, “And you’re my home, Bucky Barnes.”

_____________________________________________________________

Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary @bibliophilewednesday

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years ago

Text

playing cards x damon albarn

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE OMG OK. hope you guys enjoy it!!!! I love arrogant damon sorry not sorry <3

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: 2.339

@damonfuckingalbarn this is 4 u!!!! <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Have this, you’ll like it far much more than what you’re drinking.”

Diverting my gaze from the beverage encapsulated in my palm, I met my view with the mysterious voice that had beckoned in my direction. “Excuse me?” I said, first landing my glare on his ethereal orbs, spheres that were so magnificent that I had to attempt a double-take; the idiosyncratic shades, merged together to create a masterpiece of different blues, as if they were small fragments of the water from most pure oceans, exemplifying the ideation of eyes that engulf you in at the instant - simply gazing into his orbs was the token I had needed to be entirely enthralled by his presence. Perhaps his gaze was too intense, too enticing, leading me on to trail my stare to admire the more gorgeous head of hair, which looked as if it hadn’t been brushed, though that portrayed its attractiveness. His face was beaming toward my direction, taking me aback slightly as I quickly ditched the sight of his face, drifting my sight to gawk at the two drinks clasped by his hands. “That looks like shit.”

A small scoff escaped his throat, evident that he was not expecting the abrupt attitude that had beckoned upon my lips. Slightly embarrassed at my dramatic remark, I adjusted my posture, accentuating such confidence that I had seemingly demonstrated so diligently with my demeanour. “Just try it.” he replied, placing one of the glasses on the dark wood counter, pushing it towards my direction lightly to prevent it from slipping off the glossy counter. Leaning my torso closer to the counter, I spent a couple seconds examining the contents of the unknown drink, it being something that I had never set my eyes upon.

Placing my original drink on the countertop, I nervously grasped the ambiguous drink that he had offered me, glancing back at him with an unsure expression illustrated on my features. In a way to reassure or encourage me, he nodded his head, resulting in me then taking a small sip to ease myself into the new flavour. Before the liquid had merely touched the back of my throat, I spat the contents back out into the glass. “That’s minging!” I choked, my face scrunching up in disgust. Focused on each move I was making, I felt his eyes continue to gawk at me as I attempted to rid the awful taste that lingered on my tongue by taking a lengthy sip of my pint, swallowing down the contents gleefully. Connecting my stare with his, I once again analysed his features, almost like my mind trying to discover what had been the true ideal that his beauty had enthralled me so rapidly just gaping at him. Perhaps I had over-emphasised his gorgeousness too much, though my doubts were denied as soon as my view had set upon his face once again. He had a smirk carefully illustrated at the side of his lip, curving the top of his cheek slightly, his face sculpted so delicately it urged the want to caress your finger against his skin, it conveying the impression that it was so soft, accentuating the prettiness of his facial features. Something inside me was itching towards the fact that he was somebody I knew, or at least somebody that I had seen somewhere, until it had clocked that he was from television, more specifically Top Of the Pops, last night. "You're that singer from that art school band, aren't you?" I questioned, my vision squinted together as I challenged my active recall abilities. “Damon isn’t it?”

"Wow, you know your music!" he laughed, edging his arm to rest on the counter. The stare orchestrated between us remained, as I left my mind to ponder over the common-knowledge of how men were like in bands. Aware of what he was going to solicit, and knowing that he would think it was going to be extremely easy, I had to prepare myself not to fall for it, no matter how good-looking or tempting the concept engulfed in my brain made it out to be. "Want to go out for dinner tomorrow?"

“No, sorry.” I bluntly replied, breaking the poignant eye contact to down the rest of my drink, slightly forcing the glass containing the beverage he had offered me, back to him. If I had my eyes lingering on his for any longer, I’d end up doing something I’d highly regret the next morning.

“Why not?” he quizzed, bewildered by my sudden response. Clearly he had never had a woman decline his offer before, or was definitely not expecting it after he had gone head to head and won against the second biggest band in the country the night previous. So arrogant.

“Because I don’t want to?” I replied, slightly amused by how perplexed he had gotten. Darting my eyes around the dimly-lit room, my gaze fixated on a booth consisting of boys that, from my vague memory, believed were his band members. Knowing that he was still looking at me, I allowed a smirk to fall on my lips as I thought of what to say next. “I've actually got my eye on that guy over there," I mumbled, pointing towards the familiar booth of boys, my index finger lingering on the tall, lanky boy, whose hair looked as soft as the petals of a newly-bloomed rose. Granting my finger to saunter for a while, it directed enough time for Damon to swivel his head around to see whomever I was speaking about. "Alex, isn't it?"

Switching my focus back to look at him, I noticed his jaw clench at my remark, his orbs dawdling over the three boys who had been engrossed in conversation. Feeling the smirk on my face widen, I relished in the sensation of battering his ego - even if it was just slightly. A small laugh escaped his throat as he locked his gaze with mine, clicking his tongue as he sneered, understanding what I was trying to do to him. It was a forced chuckle, most likely portrayed out of annoyance, “Look, I just think you’re really pretty, alright?”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I felt my stomach ignite at his frustration towards my obnoxiousness. Butterflies were blooming in my stomach as a certain heat flushed over my cheeks, my body mindful that I couldn’t keep up with such a persona for a much longer time. As well as this, it would potentially drive him away, which at this rate I didn’t want him to do, so I thought of the best possible solution to bring his hopes up, reaching to the ground underneath the barstool to grasp my bag, taking out a deck of cards. “Let’s play snap.” I exclaimed, beginning to shuffle the card deck.

“And you just carry those around do you?”

“It’s fun to play.” I replied, splitting the deck and then sliding him his share.

“Can I just get you a drink?” He groaned, though a small smile had perched on his lips at the irregularity of the situation. A girl is asking him to play cards after she simply rejected him, at a bar.

“You already did, Damon, and it was shit.” I spat back, fixing my eyes on his once again. He looked slightly offended at the insolence I demonstrated towards his efforts, which, for some reason, sank my heart a little. “If you win this game, I'll give you a second chance.”

“Deal,” He beamed, the signature devilish grin of his painted on his lips once again. “Might as well get you that drink now.” he added, his arrogance seeping through his teeth.

As we began placing our cards in the middle of the table, one after another, the environment was tense as to when two cards of the same origin would land upon each other. It was funny, I had gone out tonight to blow off steam from the stresses that work had offered me the past week, and somehow I had landed myself playing a game of cards with undoubtedly the most famous musician in Britain at the moment. “I’m not falling for it, you know.” I said, avoiding his gaze.

"Then why are you doing playing cards with me, love?" he interrogated, the sneer on his lips evident by his lustrous tone. He was right; his obvious pretentiousness, and egocentrism only edged me towards loving his company just that much more, which had disgracefully increased my attraction to him, but of course I wasn’t going to admit that, hell, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to fall for it, even though that was exactly what I had been doing this entire time - sinking down a hole of allurement from his persona that panned something inside of me that I wasn’t able to pinpoint on. Pop star effect, I suppose.

Completely silenced by his comment, I felt a certain radiance tease it’s way to my cheeks once again, edging me into humiliation even more to the fact that he could tell the effect his words were having on me - the sly grin on his features was felt in the tension shared between us. In an endeavour to shy away my embarrassment, I dragged out my packet of Marlboro cigarettes, snatching one from its packaging and lighting it before placing another card down on the deck that had been piling up since we had started. Inhaling sharply, I allowed the cancerous smoke to escape my lungs, my body adorning the relaxed feeling that seeped through after. “Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Why not? Your pack’s full!”

Pausing my movements before taking another hit from the roll of tobacco, a smirk lingered on my lips as I let my head rest on my palm, keeping my body upright. "Why? Those songs of yours not selling much?" I mocked, blowing another whiff of smoke into his face, the stunned expression held on his face only exhilarating me more in what felt like... control, though from the way he had been acting, I knew that such power was not going to last for a long while. "Put a card down, for goodness sake."

Scoffing, he followed my demand, though the card he placed down was the exact same as the one I placed down before, ensuing his hand slamming suddenly on top of the card deck, my mouth agape as I realised that he had won. “Look who won!”

A beam covered my face as I shook my head, watching him grab the attention of the bartender, asking for another drink that once again, I hadn’t heard of before. Once the bartender was done preparing the beverage, Damon passed it over to me, another grin captured on his expression. Sighing, I discarded the remains of my cigarette before taking a sip of another, unknown drink, the feeling of déjà vu hitting me as I had enraptured myself in the same situation when we had first spoken. "For fucks sake Damon, this tastes worse than the last one."

"More for me then, isn't it?" he grinned, my mind now aware that he had simply ordered such an appalling drink to agitate me. Be that as it may, he was aggravating, and took delight into making one’s time horribly spent, there was something about him that kept me latched onto him. Perhaps it was his glowing features, which were so enticing that it blinded me into thinking that he was the only other person in the room, and the only other person that I could set any fragment of attention towards.

"Stop pissing me off, you twat." I mumbled, looking at my bag as I placed the card deck back inside, it not proving much use to the situation anymore.

"You could quite easily just walk away, if I’m pissing you off this much.” he said, his head tilted to the side as his eyes lingered on me, practically forcing me to connect our gazes once again. “Doors just there, love." he uttered, beckoning his hand towards the timber door that divided us between the streets.

"Why would I leave when I'm getting free drinks?" I asked, trying to maintain whatever control I had over the situation, which had been deemed to have slipped out of my grasp at this given moment. The tension between us had been alleviating faster than it had been before, as we began reaching the climax of the encounter.

"You're not liking them though, are you?" he replied, face beginning to draw dangerously close to mine, his eyes flicking from my eyes to my lips every couple of seconds, contemplating how to end the situation. It was fully in control with him now; I was merely wrapped around his measly little finger, and he knew it. Our noses grazed ever-so-slightly on one another's as I felt his breath fan onto my cheeks - all I had craved for at this point was to attach my lips onto his, my breathing quickening as the realisation of just how close our bodies were to one another. "Just admit it, you're loving this." he mumbled.

"Am not." I whispered, my eyes staring at his lips as shuffled closer and closer to mine. We were both aware that what I had said was a lie, but my stubbornness wasn't ready to let that slide yet. Just as I thought we were going to connect lips, he darted his head away rapidly, the movement so swift I hadn't come to realize until a couple seconds afterwards, my cheeks now reddened to the point that I was almost convinced I had a fever.

"You fell for it, lovely." he grinned, placing a white slip on my lap, decorated with numbers to which I assumed were in relation to his telephone number. "Let me know when you're free!" he exclaimed, before waltzing off to the booth where his friends had, leaving me completely stunned, and exactly where I knew would be - absolutely encapsulated by the man known as Damon Albarn.

#damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #blur band #band imagines #fluff #nineties #britpop #90s #music

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librarianandguardian · 4 years ago

Text

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

#fate the winx saga #saul silva #saul silva x reader #sky of eraklyon #fate riven #farah dowling #ben harvey #saul silva imagine

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genesisrose74 · 4 years ago

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I'm crying your so amazing at writing like honestly 😭. If you're still accepting fics can you please do more timeskip Hinata in Brazil please?

Rainy In Rio

A/n: Rio Hinata lives in my head rent free so thank you for giving me an excuse to write more for best boy 🥰 I researched the summers in Rio and nicknames they commonly use for significant others for absolute ages to get this accurate, but if anything needs correcting anyone please lemme know! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Despite the fact that rain starts falling significantly during January in Rio, Shoyo Hinata didn’t think it necessary to check the weather for the second week of the New Year. Nor did he think twice about inviting you to the sandy shores of the city during a morning of that second week to teach you more about sand volleyball.

The thought only occurred to him, in fact, when a handful of large water droplets fell from the sky and smacked him right on the forehead. Right in the middle of him showing you how to set on the beach.

You shoot him a questioning look as the first hints of precipitation plop down on your extended arms, which Hinata was currently in the process of positioning. His sheepish face already gives you an answer, but you decide to confirm your inference anyways.

“Shoyo, did you check the weather at all today?”

The guilty expression turns into a full fledged grimace when the rain only picks up, coming down in droves as every second passes. His tangerine hair quickly becomes a flattened mess as he opens his mouth to respond, body unmoving from his initial position. “Uhm, no?”

A sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head. “Good thing I left my phone at your place.”

When he does finally move, it’s only because you’re pulling at his athletic shirt to find a drier spot. He snags his backpack from the dampened sand, slinging it over his shoulder, and hurries to catch up with your speed walking.

Although you hold displeasure with your now very wet clothes, it's difficult to stay pouty at the boy when his puppy dog face is ever so visible in your peripheral vision. When you finally reach an overhang to wait out the unexpectedly harsh rainfall, he turns to you with desperate pleas for forgiveness on his tongue, but stops when he sees your slanted grin at his worry.

“You’re not upset?” he inquires with a tilt of his head.

“Why would I be that upset, silly?” you snort, “It’s just rain, and it’s not like I don’t forget to check the weather sometimes myself.”

Hinata’s signature smile erupts on his face, shooing away any previous anxiety from his expression. “Oh, thank goodness!”

Hinata rummages through his back to check on his valuables, most notably his phone, while you observe the current downpour. The weather doesn’t nip frostily against your skin, thankfully, since Rio’s summer temperatures remain quite warm even in the midst of the rainy season, but the heavy barrage from the sky is still quite the surprise for your now botched plans.

“It’s really coming down today,” you muse aloud, reaching out to feel the pitter-patter of water against your hand. Hinata comes up beside you with curious eyes, pulling a lightweight jacket he had spare in his bag over your shoulders.

“It really is,” he agrees. “Do you want to wait it out?”

“I’m not sure. It looks like it’s going to be pretty long until things let up.”

He glances your way with a playful smile. “I suppose I do owe you a drink after I’ve gotten you all soaked.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you hum. “Can we get some pineapple juice at the spot by your place?”

“Of course we can, bela querida.”

You can’t help the flustered giggle that passes your lips at the nickname, Shoyo’s rise in confidence since he arrived in Rio shining through - although his cheeks still blossom a very noticeable pink.

He offers a hand out to you in invitation, calloused fingers warm against your own when you accept, and the ginger-haired male hurriedly leads you through the less crowded streets of the city as raindrops continue barraging the area. The speed walking, half jogging pace you both keep up consists of kiddish laughter throughout, the knowledge of how ridiculous you likely seemed to bystanders prompting a heavy amount of giggling. Your haphazard grasp on the jacket just barely surrounding your figure doesn’t do much to reject the rainfall, but it becomes difficult to take notice nor care about its effectiveness.

Only a half-step in front, Hinata is also a cheerfully soaked mess. Hair once again flattens against his face as water cascades from the sky, backpack slung aimlessly over his shoulder and head tucked slightly downwards, with just enough vision to maneuver the city. The entertained smile that hasn’t yet left his face seems enough to dry the entire country within a minute, and a playful squeeze to the hand he holds effortlessly sends warmth through your body.

It doesn’t take very long to reach your desired destination in the mostly emptied walkways of Rio, populations already dissipated in favor of finding shelter. The woman at the cafe’s counter gives a knowing chuckle at your drenched presences in the doorway, and kindly takes Hinata’s order when he approaches with an apologetic grin - knowing very well that the main floor of the shop was now splashed with puddles left in his wake.

The lady doesn’t come to mind it in the slightest, though, conversing easily with the ginger about the major downpour outside. He wouldn’t know it himself, but Hinata held a certain charm that made it easy for people to warm up to him in a matter of minutes, and you noted that such a quality contributed to the employee’s momentary understanding with your situation.

Said Karasuno alumni returns to your side, who still stands on the cafe’s entrance mat beneath the building’s overhang.

“It’ll take a minute, but your ever-desired juice fill is on its way,” he informs you, and your delighted smile has Hinata’s own eyes glimmering with happiness. “Thank you very much.”

“You are very welcome.”

You glance at the sky for a moment, and your expression is much more cheeky than before as your gaze returns to his own. The male next to you offers a confused but curious look at the change. “What’s that face for?”

“I had an idea is all,” is what you respond with, which only intrigues him further.

“Care to explain what that idea might be?”

“Hm...how about I show you instead?”

Hinata nods his head, albeit a smidge hesitant. When you tug ever so gently on his arm, leading him towards the uncovered part of the walkway, the dots connect to discover what your plan was. At least slightly.

“You want to stand out in the rain now?” he inquires with a slanted grin.

“Not just stand,” you correct, feeling the first batch of droplets against your skin. “Dance.”

The look on his face shifts to one of playfulness, easily taking your hand in his just like before. Pulling you towards him in the empty street - with the exception of a few stragglers around looking for cover - his other hand quickly finds your waist.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he laughs warmly, examining your own joyful expression with endearment etched across his features.

“That makes two of us,” you agree.

His arm lifts to twirl you in a partially clumsy manner before bringing your arms around his shoulders again, leaning towards your ear and murmuring, “Do you think the cafe lady minds if we go back inside for the drinks in these soggy clothes?”

“Just stay on the mat outside so we don’t get the floor more wet than it already is, and I think it’ll be fine,” you reason.

“Fair enough.”

Hinata pulls back far enough to examine your face and brushes a wet strand of hair out of your eyes, encouraging your grin to widen with the gesture. He presses his lips to your forehead for a moment, his proximity radiating the same warmth it always seemed to maintain.

“I hope that it rains for at least a day, whenever you visit, from now on,” he thinks aloud.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“So we can dance like this again.”

Your heart grows impossibly softer in your chest, and you nestle your head into his nearly see-through shirt to hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “You smooth talker.”

He lets out an easy laugh, unraveling your arms from his neck and taking both your hands in his to see your face more clearly.

“I think the drinks are ready by now,” he comments, eyes suggesting a more teasing mood, but the rest of his expression immeasurably sweet. “We should go check.”

“You’re probably right,” you concede with the slightest hint of disappointment.

He swings your still intertwined fingers back and forth as you both walk towards the cafe entrance once more. “Let's do that again sometime soon.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth at your thoughts. “Call me next time it rains and I’ll book a flight.”

“I will absolutely be doing that,” Hinata snorts good-naturedly, but in his mind he truly considers it for a moment.

If it meant getting to do that more often, he would fly you out every rainy day without question.

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spidercakes · 4 years ago

Text

Starker high school AU featuring fem!Omega!Tony and alpha!Peter where Tony is well known for being a real bitch to anyone who tries to court him. Peter knows better than to think he hates getting gifts.

Warning for references to domestic violence (Howard).

Peter watches Tony from across the hall trying mostly unsuccessfully to shove his stuff into his locker. He’s already in a bad mood that much is clear but when Justin Hammer walks up looking far too confident his mood appears to take a nosedive for the worst. He watches Tony turn away from trying to stuff his leather jacket into his locker to Hammer, aggression clear in his features but that doesn’t seem to deter Hammer any. Bad sign, Tony hates that but Peter leaves him to it because its almost funny to watch Tony tear his suitors to shreds and he’s mean when he gets going. Or at least it would be funny if people didn’t keep disrespecting Tony’s very clear and well known boundaries and if Tony didn’t sometimes go a little far in his vicious takedowns.

But he doesn’t really like Justin Hammer that much and neither does Tony, he’s not shy about saying it. So when he holds out a box Peter knows he’s about to go ape on this guy. MJ walks up beside him and shakes her head, “one, stop fantasizing about being the only one to tame that beast. He’s a privileged brat, get better taste. Two, privileged brat or not he’s preferable to Hammer so I want to see this,” she says, looking satisfied as Tony glares Hammer down.

“He’s not a brat,” Peter tells her, “he just doesn’t like jewelry and no one seems to get the point.” Or at least he’s pretty sure that’s what that is anyway but its hard to tell because omegas almost never get stuff that isn’t jewelry. Peter doesn’t get why that is when he’s never actually seen an omega wear any of it. Mostly they range from irate like Tony about it to mildly uncomfortable and unsure what to do with expensive things they don’t want like Liz. Either way Peter thinks its about time someone actually paid attention to what their crushes like and give them something that’s not stupid expensive that they might actually like. But that’s probably the fact that he’s too poor to do much more than get small things talking even if Liz agrees.

“Turn the fuck around right now,” Tony tells Hammer. MJ raises an eyebrow at him but they both agree that unwanted attention should earn a person a smack so Tony is actually being really polite right now according to those standards.

“I got you-” Hammer starts but Tony cuts him off.

“You could have Nicolas II the last Czar of Russia in that box and I couldn’t give two shits. Turn around and walk away,” Tony says.

Peter doesn’t mean to let out a sharp peel of laughter but its funny, okay? Tony turns to glare him down but softens slightly when he notices that Peter isn’t laughing at him specifically. He still turns away like he’s been stuck with a hot poker because Christ, Tony isn’t supposed to see him watching. “He’s not staring anymore,” MJ tells him helpfully so he risks looking back over.

Tony is unlucky enough to have Hammer’s gift all but shoved into his grasp and oh, Tony hates that too. Peter isn’t entirely surprised when Tony makes an offended noise and walks to the nearest trash can to chuck the box into it. “For ten fucking seconds I want some time to myself to stick my jacket in my locker and you fucks can’t even give me that!” he snaps as he storms off, unconcerned with the fact that his jacket is on the ground and his locker is wide open.

“Well that was a fun way to start the day,” MJ says. “Think we’ll get more entertainment by lunch?” Given the way people seem to lust after Tony Peter wouldn’t really be surprised.

Rhodey is used to people asking him about Tony, it happens all the time and he’d never say anything. Or at least he’d never say anything to anyone Tony didn’t already approve of so he’s gotten a reputation for being as difficult and bullheaded as Tony. Neither of them have high standards so its pretty sad that people consistently fail them but it is what it is. So when a lanky looking alpha walks up to him at least having the sense to look nervous Rhodey isn’t surprised. He’s not the usual type, that goes to whoever is overconfident enough to think they’ll actually get something from Tony and this guy does not look the type if his blush is any indication.

“Um, hey. I’m Peter. Parker. Peter Parker, yeah, um. God, this is bad I’m so glad Tony doesn’t have to- here,” he says, handing Rhodey a small box. “Tell him its not jewelry.” He turns to walk away looking pretty harassed but Rhodey is curious.

“Why’d you give it to me?” he asks before Parker can run off anywhere.

He doesn’t look impressed about it but he does turn to give Rhodey his attention. “Tony doesn’t like being handed stuff, but he seems to take stuff from you and Pepper. You seemed less scary than Pepper but I think maybe I was wrong and both of you are terrifying.”

He doesn’t mean to laugh a little but its kind of funny and he gave an answer Rhodey likes. “If he doesn’t want it I’ll give it back to you at the end of the day,” he tells Peter.

Peter nods and walks away with a soft ‘thanks’ and Rhodey decides he likes that too but he won’t tell Tony about it unless he likes the gift. Not that he would have even got it if he didn’t like Peter anyway, he knows Tony well enough to know when he won’t like someone and he’d probably appreciate the help weeding them out. He doesn’t even know why people try at this point, not when Tony is so damn nasty about his day being disrupted. He doesn’t know about anyone else but if he watched a guy toss a twelve thousand dollar necklace in a pond because he didn’t like it he’d probably think that guy was an asshole and avoid him forever.

He knows better than to think Tony is the asshole here, but without context he’s go to wonder what the hell everyone else is thinking. Its not like they all know Tony is as rich as he is when he doesn’t hint at it, and they don’t know that he hates jewelry because his asshole of a father used to give his mother something sparkly after he beat her, and they definitely don’t have any boundaries, but he still wants to know what goes through their mind. He wants to know what it feels like to be so confident he thinks he can win over an omega who actively hates jewelry with jewelry. It must be some kind of adrenaline rush mixed with a Darwin Award and he wants to know.

The fact that its so common is so weird to him too, its like no one here has basic observation skills. Sometimes he pretends like he’s an anthropologist trying to figure out how the students in this school work because their behavior is so counterintuitive. Other times he texts Pepper so they can privately roast whoever Tony harshly turned down now.

By the time he gets to lunch Tony reports three more people- and there seem to be unlimited people at this school Rhodey swears- who have tried to give him gifts. None of them anything but jewelry and Rhodey can do with a little key change to his day so he pulls out that Peter Parker kid’s box. “Here,” he tells Tony, who frowns at it for a second before looking kind of hurt. It takes a second for Rhodey to catch on and when he does he wrinkles his nose, “look man, if I wanted to court you I would have and I don’t. I just can’t look at you the same way after that time I witnessed you triple yourself,” he says. “Its from some kid named Peter Parker and he says its not jewelry so I figured it was promising.”

“Do I even want to know what tripling oneself is?” Pepper asks, coming up behind Rhodey and sitting beside him.

“Shit, piss, and puke in sync,” Rhodey and Tony say together, both sounding dismayed and a little disgusted. The look on Pepper’s face tells him he should be ashamed that this is information he has.

“I can’t believe I associate with you two,” she mumbles, shaking her head at least until she spots the box sitting in front of Tony. “What’s that?” she asks.

Tony shrugs, “don’t know but he survived Rhodey so I assume he doesn’t suck.”

“As long as its not another Sunset,” Pepper says, shaking her head.

It earns a small sigh out of Tony and he picks up the box, probably looking for a subject change. He looks exhausted with it already so that’s how Rhodey knows his reaction is genuine. He pulls a scrap of paper from the box and snorts before he starts laughing, cracking up the the point of doubling over and Rhodey would like to know what’s on that paper.

Pepper has the same idea because she snatches it. “Nicholas II the last Czar of Russia?” she reads, clearly confused.

Tony is already distracted by something else in the box because he’s staring at it with a smile on his face. Rhodey beats Pepper to snatching it this time and he smiles when he reads the pin too. “That’s cute,” he says, handing it to Pepper.

“Ah! the element of surprise. I don’t get the Czar thing but Tony clearly did so that and this pin make for a clever combination,” she says. “So you know this one has brains. Just make sure he’s not the type who thinks being clever every once and awhile is a replacement for a personality.”

“Ew, don’t ruin the only good gift I’ve ever gotten,” Tony tells her, taking his pin and scrap of paper back. “The Czar thing was me insulting Hammer. God, can you guys believe he tried to give me anything? I’d rather stick my dick in a bee hive.”

Rhodey and Pepper exchange a look because there might be something here and Rhodey, for one, wants to figure out what it is.

Tony finds Peter after school and quickly learns that he’s jumpy when he all but tosses himself nearly into his locker because Tony spooked him by accident. “You’re interesting, I don’t think I’ve met you before,” he says. He’s certain he hasn’t actually and Peter’s cute, in a boyish way. And he already knows he’s not a dunce so there’s that too.

“I um, you have actually. We’ve had like three science classes and two math classes together but I um, usually sit at the back so.”

Yeah, bad excuse because that’s where he sits too but that’s sweet of him to try and give Tony a reason for not noticing his existence. “Okay, so maybe I can be a little self absorbed. Cute gift though, the element of surprise thing was kind of clever.”

It seems to take Peter a few seconds to catch on to his own joke and that’s... weird. “Oh my god, its like I’m the element of surprise! Yeah, okay, I didn’t even think of that I just thought it was kind of cute and sarcastic and you like science so...” he trails off, wincing.

Its adorable and also telling. So he did put thought into it, just not the way Tony thought and that’s actually better for him. “Think you can come up with another gift by tomorrow?” he asks in maybe a little too cocky a tone. And then he kind of thinks of the implications and winces, “I um, I don’t really want stuff I just want to know that you like, give a shit about who I am. And uh, yikes, that wasn’t an improvement. You can just forget this ever happened,” he says, for some reason feeling the need to finger gun his way out of this, passing Peter quickly as he scrambles the hell out of there.

Peter doesn’t really know if Tony likes vinyl but he definitely likes AD/DC so he leaves it in front of his locker and figures Tony will make up his mind. In the meantime he finds Liz so he can focus on something that isn’t losing his mind or passing out. “If you were a sandwich what would you be?” she asks as he walks up. Ned looks mad beside her and that’s weird because Ned never gets mad.

“I don’t know, a BLT I guess,” he says.

Liz throws her hands up, “the only correct answer is a grilled cheese, why do you guys like in anarchy?”

“Meatball sub!” Ned says, staking his claim but Peter frowns.

“Ned, a sub isn’t a sandwich yours doesn’t even qualify.”

Ned looks offended about this, “Peter, its meat in bread. That’s the exact same as a sandwich, just because the bread is shaped different doesn’t mean its not a sandwich.”

MJ chooses then to walk over so Peter pounces on it, “is a sub a sandwich, MJ?”

She squints at him like he’s stupid, “no. Why is this even a question.”

“Liz lives in denial that if we were sandwiches the best option is meatball sub,” Ned explains.

That gets him another ‘what the fuck’ look. “First of all I maintain that a sub is not a sandwich and obviously the only right answer is grilled cheese.”

Peter frowns, “why does grilled cheese count as a sandwich?”

“It has ‘sandwich’ in the name Peter- a grilled cheese sandwich,” Liz points out.

“What was his answer?” MJ asks.

“BLT,” Peter in Ned say in sync.

“Savage,” MJ accuses and frowns for a moment, leaning around him. “Oh, and he’s about to get his penance, we should probably check ourselves before we wreck ourselves,” she says, nodding at something behind Peter. He turns to find Tony walking towards him with the record he left at his locker and winces because he doesn’t want to like... get smacked with it or something equally unpleasant.

When he turns back to his friend group he finds that they’ve all abandoned him like cowards but in their defense he wishes he could abandon himself like a coward too. But unfortunately he’s him so he can’t. “Um, hey,” he says once Tony is in ear shot.

Tony grins, “AC/DC!” he says excitedly.

“Oh, yeah. You like them, and like... most eighties rock but a lot of sixties and seventies stuff too. Why are you looking at me like that, you wear a lot of band shirts,” Peter says. Like a lot of them, but enough of them are AC/DC shirts that Peter assumes he has a preference.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry, I’m just not used to people noticing really obvious stuff about me- I, you know what. Uh, thanks,” Tony says, scattering before Peter can say anything. From across the hall he has no less than six people staring at him in shock and Peter frowns.

“What? It wasn’t hard to find something he liked.” Which is true, but he’s at least somewhat benefitted by the fact that his competition seems to think trying the same thing over and over again despite atrocious results will work.

“I gave him like, twelve things!” the one guy says and Peter rolls his eyes.

“Ten bucks says it was all jewelry,” he mumbles to himself and walks away. He doesn’t get why people keep trying to throw shiny things at Tony when he obviously doesn’t like it.

When Tony finds the box he doesn’t expect much mostly because good things don’t seem to last where he’s concerned, so he’s pleasantly surprised by its contents. “That is the ugliest scarf I have ever seen,” some alpha a couple lockers down from him says, giving the scarf a distasteful look.

Tony doesn’t remember anything about her except that he can’t stand her. “Then you clearly don’t get the reference,” he snaps, putting the scarf in his locker before he goes to class.

Rhodey raises an eyebrow at him as he walks up but he says nothing as he sits down. “What, no rant about gifts today?”

He shakes his head, “no. People seem to be picking up on the fact that Peter is doing a better job than any of them. Today I got Four’s scarf.”

“Nice,” Rhodey says, grinning and giving a nod of approval. “Now that you have a not shit suitor I feel like I can finally say that I cannot believe you threw a twelve thousand dollar necklace in a pond because you didn’t like it. You could have pawned it,” he points out.

“And get money I don’t need? Let someone else find it and cash in and I thought you hated Killian anyway.” Rhodey had been the one to warn him off not that Tony needed a warning to stay away from Killian.

“Could have donated it to charity. And I don’t, which is why I laughed when you tossed it. But damn man, twelve grand. I can’t imagine having that much money to just throw aside for a courting gift.” He shakes his head but Tony is well aware there’s more to it than that. Its not like his being on the lower end of middle class is a secret, and Tony knows that Rhodey doesn’t really believe him when he says most omegas don’t actually want jewelry. Tony is pretty sure Rhodey thinks that’s a bias on his part and it is, but only because he has an active reason to dislike jewelry, not because omegas secretly do want jewelry.

But the pressure is there and Tony knows Rhodey has avoided dating because he can’t afford that kind of thing. He figures he’ll grow out of the pressure to perform courting in a certain way but that doesn’t make things suck less for him now.

“If Killian knew anything about me he would have donated it to charity himself. And even if I didn’t hate jewelry that thing was god awful, you can’t expect me to have liked that gaudy ass thing. It looked kind of like this hideous necklace my great grandmother snuck out of Italy when she fled fascism during World War Two.”

Rhodey snorts and cracks up, shaking his head. “Okay, I will give you that it was very ugly but it was also stupid expensive.”

“I didn’t know that before it was tossed and yes, I could tell that it cost money because I know what good jewelry looks like but also I wouldn’t have paid more than ten bucks for something that hideous. Someone designed it that way on purpose and they should be fired for their sins.” And that’s before he even gets into the mess that Killian is specifically. Rude, entitled, arrogant, a mean streak a mile wide, and a total inability to not go into full meltdown mode when he’s told ‘no.’ Tony learned his lesson when he was a freshman and Killian decided to hit on him with an uncomfortable amount of aggression and then got mad when Tony agreed to meet him elsewhere to get him the hell out of his face only to not show up.

Needless to say the ensuing meltdown led to somehow deciding to win Tony back, not that he ever had him to begin with, with jewelry. It’d been the first time he’d ever been given anything and the situation resembled the cycle he’s watched his parents go through a million times so closely that he kind of lost it a little. Admittedly it wasn’t the nicest thing in the world to throw the necklace in a pond and start shrieking but he also feels like, at least in context, the reaction wasn’t totally irrational. Just mostly.

“So Four’s scarf,” Rhodey says, transitioning away from Killian thankfully. “Not a bad choice, even if you prefer Ten.”

“What are you two on about?” Pepper asks, arriving to the conversation late.

“Doctor Who,” Tony says and fills her in on the rest. She also gives a nod of approval and its almost harder to impress her than Rhodey. Rhodey only wins out because he’s grown a protective streak for Tony and Pepper has it too, but she’s a lot less likely to go ham on someone at least publicly. Usually Rhodey is good at pretending not to be an impulsive moron but there’s something about Tonys presence that makes him lose a brain cell or two and do dumb shit like get suspended for punching Killian in the face. Twice.

Peter didn’t really think Tony would actually like any of the stuff he got, minus the record because he knows Tony likes the band, but it turns out he’s actually really good at this. Tony liked the other pin he got too mostly because ‘UM confusion’ on a pin is pretty much how he feels about this whole thing and he figured Tony felt similarly. And its cute and matches the other pin.

The last thing he expects is for Tony to put the pins on his jacket and wear the scarf he got him. What he expects less than that is the sheer amount of people asking him for advice on how to court Tony seems how his efforts are working. Which is why he finds himself on the top of a table in the cafeteria kind of annoyed that he even has to do this.

“Hey. Um. Hey!” he says a little louder, drawing more attention that time. “So um. You guys keep asking me for advice on how to court Tony but you guys like... really don’t need advice on that. You guys need advice on how to follow boundaries and not harass the shit out of people. And also really, really basic observation skills. Tony doesn’t like jewelry you idiots, how did you not realize that when he kept throwing stuff out? Are you guys stupid?” he asks, fully prepared to continue on this rant when he notices a teacher beelining their way over and he sighs. “Whatever, point is if you can’t figure out how to court the omega you’d like to maybe you should take that as a sign that you don’t like them, you like what they look like. Courting someone shouldn’t be so hard that no one but me I guess figured out that Tony hates jewelry. Didn’t think he’d have to write that one down for you guys considering he throws everything he gets out,” he says, throwing his arms up before he jumps down from the table only to nearly run into Tony.

He looks pleased with himself so at least there’s that. Peter mostly tries to avoid looking at his legs in that skirt because its rude even if he looks good. “Peter Parker I think I owe you a date,” he says, grinning.

Peter blinks, shocked. “Um. What?”

Tony smiles wider, “I said I owe you a date and seems how you’ve been doing all the work so far I’ll handle it.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” he says. “I’m not great at this.”

Behind Tony Rhodey snorts, “you were better at it than the whole school and don’t have a problem with Tony taking the lead to boot. He’s probably gunna marry you.”

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #highschool au #alternate universe #omega tony stark #alpha peter parker #abo au #abo starker #starker abo

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legobiwan · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober #2

“pick who dies”

Notes: This got out of control. I was going to add an Obi-wan + Anakin section but I had to cut myself off as I do have other things I need to get to today. This is less whump than...a set of pretentious character studies with THE LINEAGE (including Rael) and an excuse to explore the trolley problem within a Star Wars setting. I blame my recent Hannibal obsession for what you see below. First part here, rest under the cut. Note, I am a musician, not a philosophy student, so allow for some creative interpretation here.

General Whumptober tag

Whumptober 2020 #1

~~~~~~~

(excerpt from “The Padawan’s Guide to Philosophy.” Eds. Masters Thrife-Foran & Ugaaalich. 616th e. Coruscant, 940 ARR. Holobook.)

Premise:

You are out for an afternoon walk in the outer regions of Thymilla, a moderately-populated city on the planet Ungar. On your walk, you pass by a set of hovertrain tracks, which branch into two separate arms - one an extension of the main track, the other a smaller offshoot which leads to a cargo loading zone, about fifty clicks south of where you are. (Diagram 3)

As a hovertrain approaches from the north, you hear screaming, the words of the driver becoming clearer as the hovertrain barrels towards the switch. The brakes of the train have failed and there is no chance of repair. If the train continues on its current path, it will kill five workers making repairs on the track. If you pull a switch, the hovertrain will divert to the offshoot, where it will kill one worker at the cargo loading zone.

Because of an anomaly in Ungar’s atmosphere, you cannot access the Force.

Do you pull the switch or do nothing and allow the train to speed forward?

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan.”

Dooku shifted on his meditation pod, the firm material groaning as he uncrossed his legs from the lotus position, gingerly setting both his bare feet to the cool, tiled floor of his Master’s chambers. The young man allowed himself a small wince with the action. Yoda might have been able to keep that damnable position for hours, probably days on end, but Dooku was just a few months shy of his eighteenth life day, and another recent growth spurt seemingly focused all on his legs made sitting for any long amount of time…uncomfortable, to say the least.

Which was likely why Yoda had had him trapped him here for the past three hours, running through one ethical thought experiment after the other, poking his literal and metaphorical gimmer stick precisely at each gnarled and swollen joint in both his body and thoughts.

To act - to pull the switch - would mean to commit premeditated murder, even if it were for the greater good. Hardly a Jedi-like action. But then again, they had been taught - indoctrinated, really - with the idea that is was acceptable to sacrifice one life for the lives of many. A supposedly fair trade-off, although Dooku had seen enough of the Jedi’s relationship to the Senate, had seen enough of the Council’s internal politics, to know that two lives did not necessarily hold equal weight.

But to not act - to let the train barrel through, to leave it up to the will of the Force...Dooku clenched his teeth. That seemed more in line with the Order he was coming to know, was consistent with the Council’s lack of action on Protobranch, when Sifo-Diyas had seen the calamity that was to befall the planet and yet the Council, his Master, had done too little, too late, preferring to allow events to transpire as they would, the Jedi only impassive bystanders.

What was the point of their abilities, their training, their place in the universe, if they weren’t able to change the course of events for the better?

“I suppose,” Dooku began slowly, coming to stand, suddenly not caring if he was maintaining his proper meditation position. The young man padded towards the slightly shuttered windows on the other side of the room.

“I suppose it depends on the relative worth of each life,” he said, turning away from Yoda as to not see the subtle moue of distaste Dooku was certain would cross the old Master’s face.

“Is not all life sacred, Padawan?”

Dooku barely bit back the dark chuckle threatening to escape from his chest. Only in the holos and classrooms and the empty rhetoric of the Council was all life sacred. The Jedi could do so much more, he could do so much more to change the galaxy and yet the Order allowed itself to be chained to politicians, leashed like akk-dogs until receiving command.

No, Dooku thought. There was no balance - not here and not in the Force.

“From the information you’ve provided,” Dooku said, ignoring Yoda’s question. He peered through the slits of the rotor blinds into the watery illumination of Coruscant’s night sky. The dome of the Senate building rose through the rain like an oddly-shaped umbrella, shielding those in power with its wide beadth. “We can assume both parties of victims are of equal social standing, being manual laborers. Because of this, we must find other ways of determining their worth, their ability to enact change in the galaxy.”

Dooku clasped his hands behind his back, daring to turn to face his Master’s displeasure.

“The question becomes whether you want to hold sway over the transit network of a forgettable city, or the imports and exports that may go off-world. Exports which might include valuable resources or even smuggled goods. Items which could affect the governance of our imagined city and therefore, by extension, an even larger part of the populace.”

“Which is why, in this case,” Dooku concluded, his posture straightening, “I would choose to allow the hovertrain to continue its course and save the cargo worker.”

Yoda folded both claws over his gimmer stick, frowning. After a moment, he let out a small grunt, his features now inscrutable.

“And see yourself as the final arbiter of worth, do you, my young apprentice? Stand you above all others holding a golden scale, you do?”

Don’t we, as Jedi, hold these scales every day and yet choose to ignore them? Dooku thought.

“Someone,” the young man replied, “will make the judgment regardless. Is it not better for the Jedi to use our powers to make such decisions?”

This time Yoda did let out a wet sigh, shaking his head.

“Dangerous, these thoughts are, my Padawan,” Yoda grumbled, gesturing at the meditation pod. “Sit, young Dooku. Much we have to discuss.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Rael.”

Rael Averross slung an arm over the back of Dooku’s couch, sleeves of his Master’s borrowed robe hanging long near the tips of his fingers. It had been the third time that month Rael had “misplaced” his own robe, his Master’s foisted upon him in the wee hours of the morning, Dooku grunting something about “Jedi propriety” before shoving Rael out the door. (The things were a damned inconvenience, and made him look like something straight out of a space station ghost story, to boot. Was it so surprising he showed up to Dooku’s quarters in a state which his Master referred to as “half-naked?”)

Rael bit his lip, trying to not think of all the times he had actually been half-naked in the Temple. Those were fun times. Unfortunately, Dooku could probably mind read them out of him right now if he weren’t so concentrated on this thought experiment.

“Why not save them both?” Rael drawled amiably, scratching at the beginnings of a beard with his other hand as he hoped to distract his Master from any hint of his past indiscretions. It was about time, too, he thought. Never going to look my age going around all smooth-faced like a transparisteel window surface.

Dooku gave a small smile. “You cannot, Rael. Those are the rules of the scenario.”

“Rules,” Rael scoffed, picking at the hem of Dooku’s overly-fancy robe before suddenly launching to his feet, unable to contain his restlessness. The younger Jedi paced up and down the length of Dooku’s couch, grateful his usually strict Master was allowing him this indulgence. Not that Dooku had any problem sitting still for what felt like forever - stiff as a board, that one - but Rael was too jittery, too full potential energy to keep his thoughts in neat line with his body. “Rules are meant to be broken, Master,” Rael gave a swift chop with his hand in illustration. “You’re the first one to tell me that.”

Rael heard his Master let out a soft snort in response. Only Dooku could make such a noise sound dignified. “I suppose I did,” the older man answered evenly.

“So there you go! Blow up the train and everyone’s fine.”

“And kill the driver?”

Rael spun to face Dooku, the other man’s eyebrows raised not in condemnation, but genuine interest. It was days like this Rael truly appreciated having Dooku as a Master. Sure, he was as pretentious as any big-city Senator, a hard taskmaster in his lessons, and an even tougher dueling trainer - but at the end of the day, Dooku only expected Rael to follow Dooku’s rules, and not the Order’s.

And as much as Rael chaffed under any collar, he’d take Dooku’s version of the Code over the Council’s any day.

“I mean, the driver is the one in control of the train,” Rael shrugged. “Sure, it’s an accident, but the they were going to be dead either way once they hit those other bodies. Probably would go flying through the window and bash their skull in. This way, you save six lives,” Rael gave his best used speeder salesman grin. “Buy five, get one free.”

That little addition did cause his Master to roll his eyes.

“You are…” Dooku pressed his lips together, sitting back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. It was as close as Dooku ever got to a casual posture. “Colorful rhetoric aside, you are essentially advocating for pre-emptive action. Very interesting, Rael.”

“Interesting as in,” Rael pulled a sour face, imitating Dooku’s proper Serennian accent, “‘And now I will assign you five Jedi moral precepts to memorize and write a five-page essay about’ or interesting as in ‘I will now have you learn the complete codified law of the Umbargans, whose entire military strategy revolved around non-preemptive attacks.”

Dooku chuckled - actually chuckled - at Rael’s minor impertinent outburst. “Neither, Rael. Although, I must say you have provided me the perfect means by which I may punish you later on.” Damn, dug my own grave with that one, thought Rael.

“No,” Dooku continued, “I merely find your stance on this matter to be refreshingly…original.”

“You mean the Council wouldn’t approve?”

It took his Master a full minute to answer, his gaze shifting beyond Rael, beyond the confines of their shared quarters, Dooku seeming lost in some memory.

“Hardly,” he finally said. “And that is for the best.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan?”

Qui-gon Jinn sat motionless on the small patch of grass, listening to the susurrations of the light breeze in the Room of a Thousand Fountains finger through a nearby thicket of Borto reeds. Across from him, Master Dooku sat in a mirrored pose, long legs crossed over the other in the lotus position, expression unreadable, his presence in the Force - or, his effect on the Force presence on the vegetation around him - one of controlled expectancy, a single blade of grass erect and ready despite the buffeting winds.

“We shouldn’t have to choose, Master,” Qui-gon replied, trying to steady his own uneven thoughts and emotions. Although he had been Dooku’s Padawan for almost five years now, Qui-gon still found himself worrying his responses to thought experiments like these would not pass his Master’s high and stringent intellectual standards.

“In an ideal world, Qui-gon, we wouldn’t. But as you have learned - as I have shown you - the status quo rarely measures up to our ideals.”

The status quo, Qui-gon thought. Code for the Senate, for the Council, for the Republic at large. That much he had figured out, had learned from Rael, whose ability to translate Dooku’s sometimes opaque rhetoric to something more digestible never ceased to amaze Qui-gon.

The status quo. The more years he spent with Dooku - with Rael, when the younger man was around - the more Qui-gon understood. Perhaps he always had a predilection to question, to challenge what was “known,” the dictums etched in stone handed down from the Council to the Council’s Masters to its Padawans. But with Dooku’s guidance, and with his own exploration of the Jedi prophecies, Qui-gon had developed his own sense of right and wrong, of how the galaxy ought to work in consonance with the ideals of the Jedi Code and his own moral compass.

“In that case, I would ask the Force for guidance,” Qui-gon replied, thoughts slipping back to the many hours he had spent in the Archives, poring over ancient holocrons. The Force had provided for the seers of old, why shouldn’t it provide now?

“Perhaps the Force cannot provide all the answers,” Dooku countered, as if reading his mind.

Qui-gon frowned, tilting his head. “Is that not what the Jedi teach, Master? What you teach? To follow the Force?”

“To a degree,” Dooku assented, rare amusement curling the side of his lips. “But the Jedi work in symbiosis with the Force, and even that is within a certain self-imposed definition of what the Force may or may not be capable of.”

Self-imposed definition? Qui-gon ran his hands through the soft grass at his sides, no longer able to keep that perfect stillness now that Dooku had so upset his equilibrium. Had his study of the prophecies not proven that exact point? That the Jedi of now no longer regarded the Force with as open a mind those of millennia ago?

“The Force is more infinite, has more potentialities than the confines of what we could possibly hope to study in a thousand lifetimes,” Qui-gon hedged.

“And so you hope to use prophecy to save these doomed beings?” Dooku retorted with a small wave of his hand. Ah yes, the hovertrain problem, Qui-gon grimaced. He had almost quite forgotten about the whole reason for this conversation.

“I would hope to…” Qui-gon cocked his head, watching a pair of butterflies flutter over a Byrsonima crassifolia, fragile leaves fluttering in their wake. An action - or a lack of action. If he saved one life or saved five. What would the repercussions be? How could he know he was making the right choice? How could the Order know, if not for guidance from the Force, in all its possible iterations?

And yet, the study prophecy of was considered at best, an esoteric hobby - at worst, a dangerous arm of mysticism by much of the Council.

Which is why your Master encourages you to think beyond the dictates of the Council, Qui-gon concluded.

“Yes, then,” Qui-gon stated, suddenly more confident in his answers. “I would hope to ameliorate the situation by using a similar mindset of the prophets. One of openness, wonder, and possibility - to find my way in this situation.”

“And just how far would you be willing to take supposed,” Dooku trained him with an enigmatic expression, “openness?” The word weighed heavy with implication.

Qui-gon started. What exactly is Dooku trying to get at here? Hadn’t it been his Master who had introduced him to the prophecies, to the Force beyond the dictates of the Code? So far, Dooku had not steered him wrong, and yet just as the nearby Byrsonima crassifolia cast a long shadow over the open grass, so did Dooku’s unspoken entreaty.

But before Qui-gon could cobble together an answer, Dooku seemed to break out of his trance, chuckling slightly as he got to his feet. He extended a long arm to Qui-gon, who took it without hesitation, coming to stand at his Master’s side.

“Meditate on the answer, Qui-gon. For now, I believe it is past time for dinner.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan.”

Obi-wan Kenobi shifted in the overly-large, overly-plush velvet chair which threatened to swallow him whole. He and Qui-gon had been dispatched to Barstovia, a little-known desert mining planet in the Mid-Rim. A simple mission, really, overseeing a trade deal between Barstovia and Ord Mantell, opening up some shipping lines of the rare fermenium mineral to the Republic. A wholly forgettable mission, if Obi-wan were being honest, except for the fact the diminutive race of Barstovia seemed to prize, of all the unlikely things, oversized, over-upholstered furniture.

While Obi-wan struggled with a crimson throw pillow the size of his torso, his master, Qui-gon Jinn, sat across from him, perfectly serene in his eight-foot tall, royal blue armchair.

“Well, Master,” Obi-wan said, words strained as he punched the pillow to his side with un-Jedi-like ferocity. Of all times for Qui-gon to pull out a thought experiment.

“The prevailing wisdom would say to sacrifice one life to save five - a utilitarian outlook and the most practical, at least on the surface.” Obi-wan pushed down on the seat of his chair, trying in vain to straighten his posture, to lend his answer some form of credence beyond his words. Inevitably, Qui-gon would hold the exact opposite opinion from Obi-wan’s, and while Obi-wan had often kept his feelings to himself under the guise of “picking his battles,” he preferred to express his thoughts while at least looking the part of an almost eighteen-year-old Padawan, and not some child stuck in a chair too large for him. He struck at the recalcitrant cushion one last time. “But as Jedi, we often prioritize a single being or beings if they hold an important role.”

“In the short-term,” Obi-wan grimaced suddenly, pulling an impossible second pillow from under his right thigh, “we would lose four lives over one, granted. But in the long-term, that single life lost might mean the eventual deaths of hundreds, perhaps thousands.”

“But you do not have this information, Padawan,” Qui-gon replied, a crease of annoyance in his brow. Obi-wan noted there was no accompanying crease in the cushion of his Master’s chair. “All you know is the number of beings.”

Obi-wan bit down on a caustic reply. Yes, I know that, Master. I hadn’t gotten to my point yet. But when did Qui-gon actually ever listen to him?

“Yes, Master, this is true,” the younger Jedi answered, Obi-wan impressed with the evenness of his own response despite his increasing irritation. “Which is why I would endeavor to save them all.”

A beat. a raised eyebrow coupled with a subtle sigh. “Quite the feat, Obi-wan,” Qui-gon finally said, his words laced with skepticism. “How would you accomplish such a thing?”

How in the world is he not drowning in that chair? Obi-wan thought, distracted by his Master’s impenetrability, despite the audacious situation. There was Qui-gon, halfway across the room, composed and neat - well, as neat as Qui-gon ever got - against the regal backdrop of the humorously-sized chair while Obi-wan floundered in a sea of crimson, just out of his Master’s reach.

And wasn’t that the perfect metaphor for their troubled partnership?

Obi-wan wiped at his brow. “It’s quite simple, Master. The hovertrain could be diverted, or at least impeded by a third party inserting themselves into the equation.”

Something in Qui-gon’s expression shifted at the statement, earlier annoyance now melting into something closer to concern. The older man leaned forward in his chair, for the first time exhibiting a pang of discomfort as he battled the voluminous material.

“And who might that be?” Qui-gon asked, batting at the tsunami of beige woven blanket at his side.

“Myself, of course.”

Dead silence met Obi-wan’s words.

Wrong answer, Kenobi. Absolutely the wrong answer. Disappointment was written all over Qui-gon’s body language, even emanating from his usually controlled Force signature. Obi-wan fell back into the chair, not bothering to fight the dunes and valleys of velvet threatening to overtake him, averting his gaze to some preposterously-sized side-table and vase. Hopefully, his failure to provide the correct response would be the end of this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. Qui-gon would assign him some reading and meditation, and let the matter rest until they returned to Coruscant.

But Qui-gon only peered at Obi-wan with a piercing stare, apparently not ready to give up on the exchange.

“You would sacrifice yourself to save the others?”

Obi-wan found himself mirroring his master’s movements.

“Isn’t that what it means to be a Jedi?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. “We are servants of the Republic, of the Force - if our actions can save lives so that Republic may continue in peace - “ Obi-wan’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form the words that would express his devotion to the Order, the Code, his own sense of honor - but found himself gaping like an Ithorian cuttlefish.

Once again, Qui-gon fell into contemplation, back arching against tall, bulbous pillows, brushing his mustache with a single finger. A minute, then two went by, the only sound the clicks of a nearby chrono. Over eighteen feet tall, the clicks sounded more like the steps of a lurking gundark than a timepiece, doing nothing for Obi-wan’s nerves.

Finally, Qui-gon broke the uncomfortable semi-silence. “Don’t be so hasty to throw away your own life, Padawan. As you rightly said, the death of a monarch may cause the deaths of many others down the road. But you cannot know how many lives would remain unsaved if you were to treat your own so lightly.”

Obi-wan’s eyebrows rose. That had not been the reaction he was expecting.

“But how am I to know when that sacrifice is necessary?” he asked automatically. Obi-wan would make that sacrifice gladly, although...to be perfectly honest, he would prefer not to die as a seventeen-year-old Padawan.

“The better question is how you can work to reach a more productive option rather than coming to such a dire conclusion.” Qui-gon’s voice softened. “I am serious, Obi-wan. You have much to offer the galaxy. Don’t let your strict adherence to Jedi ideals extinguish your star too early. Not only would the Republic be at a loss, but…” Qui-gon looked away, staring down at some invisible pattern in the corner of the room. “I would, as well.”

Obi-wan’s mouth dropped open. “Master, I - “

“Ah, Master Jedi!” A new voice squeaked from the gargantuan entranceway. “Thank you so much for waiting,” proclaimed the three-foot Minister of Commerce, Parhary Hatch, bedecked in a long, flowery robe whose velvet train stretched back several feet. “Please, if you would,” he gestured towards the tall archway.

“Yes, of course, Minister Hatch,” Qui-gon replied in his diplomatic voice, jumping neatly off the chair, his landing as elegant as a Coruscanti ice skater.

Obi-wan frowned, joining his Master in a slightly less dignified, but no less effective maneuver. They had been on the verge of…something, some kind of understanding, or at least a truce. Whatever words had remained unsaid between would likely stay so, the moment gone, the trip back to Coruscant, and then to a Hutt outpost taking priority over these types of conversations.

Another time, then, Obi-wan sighed to himself, following the slinking violet trail of the Bartovian minister and his Master into the long corridors of the palace.

#whumptober #whumptober 2 #obi wan kenobi #count dooku #yan dooku #rael averross #qui gon jinn #pretentious bullshit #the trolley problem #writing #the eternal struggle #well this happened #i did have fun making up the alien culture for the last bit though #points to anyone who catches the references in the planet name and minister name

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tsipasce · 4 years ago

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Same Difference ch. 15

A/N: this thing fluffier than mf pancakes

That first night Nanami was awoken by the sound of the front door and a heavy sigh from a familiar voice. She glanced at the clock to see it was 2:30 am, a feeling a bit of empathy as she remembered all the 12-hour shifts she pulled, only to return to an empty place and heat up leftovers from the night before. He was probably doing the opposite of ~*saving lives*~ during his long shifts, but the sentiment remained. She heard him walking into the kitchen as the steps on hardwood turned to tile and he opened the pantry then subsequently the microwave. By 3:15 am she heard his shower going as she fell back asleep, wondering how he kept up with this schedule, his consistent grumpy mood suddenly making more sense.

By morning Nanami’s alarm for 5:30 am began blaring and she hurriedly shut it off, knowing they were only a room apart, but not how heavy a sleeper he was. Hoping she hadn’t awoken him, she quietly went through her morning routine and slipped into her workout gear. Since her training, she’d gotten back into running, and morning jogs were the only ones she had the time or energy for. On paper, any kind of jogging sounded tedious, but she found a certain peace in being able to clear her mind and get the blood flowing before beginning her day. Grabbing her headphones and phone, she quietly opened the door to her room before gently closing it. She crept down the hallway, looking back to his room to find the door still closed. He must be asleep still. Better make this quick. She thought before continuing down the hall. The sun was streaming in, but the kitchen and living room lights were off, further strengthening her confidence. As she rounded the corner, she sa— “Aggh!” There he was with his back turned, leaning on the counter. He had on a baseball cap, dust mask, sweatshirt and gym shorts with compression tight underneath, all black.

Overhaul calmly turned his head at the sudden noise as though he’d been expecting it, “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice you leaving, did you?”

“Wha—no, way. I was just gonna…” his bored expression let her know that whatever half-baked explanation she planned on selling, he wasn’t buying it, “Ok, you caught me.”

“You cannot be outside alone. What part of ‘there’s a price on your head’ are you not getting?”

A defeated look crossed her features as she realized he was right. For at least a couple weeks, she needed to lay low. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and she knew it. “You’re right…” She began as she turned to go back to her room.

“Where are you going?”

The question caught her off-guard as she turned, confused, “To change?”

“I had plans to go on a run myself. You can join, if you behave.” He said plainly, as he headed to the doorway to put on his shoes. In any other circumstance she’d complain about being treated like a child, but considering she’d literally just gotten caught trying to sneak out like a teenager, she thought it best to spare him the retort and herself the hypocrisy.

“…Fine. Lead the way~”

“And leave the earphones, you need to be alert.”

“Yes, sir.” She responded simply.

He stopped, quickly turning to her, a dark look in his eyes. Seemingly coming back from wherever his mind went in that moment, he cleared his throat before turning back and adjusting his hat to cover more of his now-flushed face. “Let’s… let’s just go.”

Note to self: The magic words are not ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, but ‘yes sir’. She gulped.

They walked out of the main door and past the courtyard to the street. Looking at his watch he set a timer and they began their jog. The sun was still rising, and the air was fresh as it filled her lungs. The neighborhood was quiet, and the streets were empty, the only sounds being the morning birds and her own breath as they began their third mile.

Hold up, where is—she thought as she looked over to see him still there. She knew he had to be in better shape than her given the fact that he fought so frequently, but he was running as though they had just begun, not a shred of fatigue on what was visible of his face. It was slightly off-putting seeing someone she knew had a whopping 2 hours of sleep run a couple miles without breaking a sweat. She on the other hand was beginning to tire. Slowing down she breathed heavily as he raised a brow at her questioningly.

“You’re…” She breathed, her hands above her head as she continued, “you’re like an electric car or something… How?” She panted, trying to cool down.

“None of that made sense.” He deadpanned, still jogging in place.

“Ugh, I’m trying to say, how are you not tired yet? I haven’t heard a peep out of you this whole time.”

“Practice and overhaul. Get through 5 miles without being this winded and I’ll consider teaching you.”

“Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?”

“Says the woman who makes a game out of defying me.”

Gasping, she dramatically put her hand across her chest, “Just because it’s true, doesn’t mean you have to say it! Besides, you invite confrontation.”

“I what?” He asked incredulously.

Just as they were about to continue bickering, a voice cut them off. “It’s a bit early to be carrying on like this, isn’t it?”

Seeing the old man from the day before, Nanami immediately felt embarrassed, having shown the stranger a less-than-flattering side of herself twice in such a short span of time. “We’re so sorry for the noise, that was my fault.” She bowed trying to apologize. Just as she was about to check for Overhaul’s reaction, she saw him doing the same.

“My apologies. We won’t be a bother again.” There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or irritation in his voice and it sounded almost foreign to her.

Well, he does have manners, so I guess it’s not that surprising… she reasoned to herself.

“That’s quite alright, for someone my age, it’s nice hearing you young folk being so spirited.” He looked between them before continuing, “How would you two like to have a morning cup of tea with me?”

Before Nanami could find a way to wiggle out of it, Overhaul responded, “Of course, we’d be delighted.”

They stood back up, the older man already turning to go inside. Nanami turned to him mouth “what the hell are you doing?” as she didn’t want to get the man involved, not knowing how misplaced her concern was. He simply sighed, seemingly resigned to this tea break as he motioned for her to go inside. She could tell he knew something she didn’t, but reluctantly went ahead as he followed close behind through the front gates of the house.

The courtyard was very similar to that of the front house used to enter the base, except it felt homier upon entering. It was quiet and serene, as the melodic clank of the deer scare echoed and a stream of water ran into a small pond, the morning birds sparing an odd note or chirp in the background. Now cooling down from their run, she could feel the fall air crisp in her lungs once again as she took a moment to appreciate the scene. The wrap-around porch had cushions and a tea set laid out as though he was expecting guests. Nanami was suspicious of the coincidence but couldn’t bring herself to feel threatened with her partner being so calm. At the end of the day, she was confident she and Overhaul could handle an ambush between them, but this didn’t feel like an attack, at least not for her.

“Please, have a seat.” The man smiled warmly as they obliged. Nanami was still unsettled at seeing her lab partner so placid and cooperative with another person. Must be trying to keep up a cover or something… I’ll have to be a barrier to make sure Mr.NoseyNeighbor doesn’t dig too deep and get himself in trouble with bird brain over here. This sweet old man has no idea what he’s gotten into…She thought to herself. The man poured them their cups and she clasped it with both hands, savoring the warmth as she sipped. “So, do you spend this much time with all of your patients or just the ones that are ‘particularly needy’?”

Nanami almost choked, registering the question and possible insinuation. Ok, what the fuck. Not-so sweet, after all... She used the cup as a shield, drinking as she regained her composure to answer, “I’m not sure what you mean, but I take care of all my patients equally based on what their condition demands.”

“Ah, I see. I wish I had a doctor as involved as you. Tell me, what hospital did you say you worked for again, Dr. Watanabe?” He asked innocently sipping his tea, but maintained eye contact.

“I didn’t. It’s funny, I also didn’t mention my name either. People in this neighborhood usually keep to themselves from what I’ve seen.”

“And I assume you’ve seen a lot.”

“No more than someone of your tenure has, I’m sure.” She smiled easily, determined not to lose this quasi-confrontation. She could feel her grip on the teacup tightening until Overhaul cut in.

“I think that’s enough, Pops.�� He said, a tinge of exasperation in his voice.

Her head snapped to look over at Overhaul, wide-eyed. “POPS”??

The older man’s stern face and calculating smile were replaced with one of genuine amusement and a hardy chuckle. “Oh, I just wanted to test her mettle a bit. I’ve heard so much about her, but we’ve never had the chance to formally meet.”

“POPS” LIKE A DAD? LIKE HIS WHOLE ASS FATHER??

“Well, here we are. Boss, Dr. Nanami Watanabe. Dr. Watanabe, Boss.” He motioned between them. Her heart still finding time to skip a beat at the sound of him saying her given name for the first time.

Wait, Boss too? I’m… it’s too early for this. She lamented inwardly at her growing confusion before gathering her face, trying to seem unsurprised and unbothered by the introduction, though she was still hesitant. Is this another manipulation tactic?

“It’s alright, please relax, doctor.” He assured, seeing the skepticism on her face, ”I’m fully aware of your involvement in our organization. Though I do appreciate your caution. It puts me at ease knowing your prudence when discussing the Shie Hassakai extends even to me.” He chuckled.

“Oh, my apologies. It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” she replied, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she realized there wasn’t a crisis to be averted, at least not the one she thought.

“No need to apologize, I’m just grateful to have you over. Chisaki speaks so highly of you, it’s nice to be able to put an in-person face to the name.” At this she cautioned a glance only to see him very preoccupied with watching the deer scare. “Chisaki” huh…

“Oh, does he now? He’s usually so quiet when we’re working together.”

“Except for the occasional smart remark, I’m sure.”

She tried to stifle a giggle, “You really are his father then. If it’s not that, there’s certainly a ‘can’t you be serious for one second?’ thrown in there if I even attempt a joke myself.” She said in her best Overhaul impersonation voice.

The Boss let out a hardy laugh, “Well, we’re not related by blood,” at this a look of surprise crossed her face. “But that does indeed sound like my son.”

Realizing her expression had been misread, she clarified, “Oh no, I didn’t— what I mean to say is that my parents adopted me too, so I understand what you mean.” She smiled sincerely, though there was a fragment of sadness in her features Overhaul noted as he glanced over at her when she wasn’t looking. Wanting desperately to change the subject, she looked around the courtyard, “Anyway, you have a lovely home. I’m impressed your hydrangeas are so lush during this time of year, I’m having a real hard time with mine.”

He perked up, more than happy to explain the ins-and-outs of his gardening techniques. He rose to show her around, the both of them crouching and inspecting the plants in the courtyard as pops gave her the life story and history of each plant. It was odd to think that she was having a casual conversation with The Boss himself, but figured it was best to play it cool and keep things light and genuine. She made sure to maintain a healthy level of respect while addressing him, but the interaction flowed easily. For a moment she was able to forget her situation and just enjoy a morning tea while listening intently as he spoke about all matters horticultural.

Still on the porch, observing the pair, there was a warmth creeping into Chisaki’s chest. Bloodshed, murder, brutality—those were familiar, but this… was different. Not in the mood for self-reflection, he pulled his mask down and sipped the tea, enjoying the view without questioning it. Her hands gently grazed the petals, her gaze soft as the rising sun illuminated her features, a warm smile across her face. He cleared his throat, careful not to articulate the thoughts that crossed his mind. Careful not to acknowledge just how nice it would be to become used to this visage. He made a mental note to create a garden of his own to help facilitate this new wish, but for now, there was work to be done. Like clockwork, his phone rang, stirring him from his thoughts and he knew it was time to go.

After a brief call, he pocketed the device, standing up and walking over to them. Pops noticed and took the cue, “Well, it looks like duty calls. It was lovely to finally meet you, Dr. Watanabe.”

“The feeling is definitely mutual. Thank you for the tea and gardening tips, I’ll be sure to update you on the progress of my green thumb, whenever it shows up.” She gave a small laugh as she rubbed the back of her neck, a bit embarrassed at telling him how many plants had gone to die at her place.

“I look forward to it, and to seeing more of you around here. I know others feel the same.” He glanced over to Overhaul who averted his gaze like a reticent child at the remark.

They gave courteous bows before leaving, heading back in the direction of his house. There was a marked silence between them as they jogged this time. She had a million questions but couldn’t bring herself to ask even one as they arrived and entered the house. Lost in thought, she continued walking until she almost bumped into him as he stopped in the hallway. Looking over his shoulder, he addressed her “You know, there’s no turning back now.”

“I think we crossed that bridge a while ago,” she tittered before looking up to see his gaze soft and almost anxious to hear her response. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” She assured, referring only partly to her commitment to keep a low profile until the bounty could be resolved. If she was being completely honest with herself, there was an insinuation she hoped he wouldn’t miss; that he wouldn’t reject. Both exhaling a long-held breath, he nodded, heading down the hallway to his room, a faint smile forming behind his mask.

#same difference #overhaul #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #bnha #mha overhaul #overhaul fanfiction #overhaul x oc #mha fanfic #mha oc #bnha fanfic #overhaul x nanami #nanami watanabe #overhaul fanfic

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ciriceart · 3 years ago

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OC profiles: the Lawson family

From the now-defunct semi-interactive comic/creative writing projects, “Hunger, Nevada”, “Far From Any Road”, and “Saudade”.

The plot of these three stories cover topics and conflicts such as learning to relate to those around you, breaking toxic cycles, smalltown stagnation and the isolation of close-knit communities, and metaphorical (sometimes literal) body horror monsters that slowly poison towns and families. I wrote these stories from the ages of 14 to 21, and they're all very much a reflection of myself and my perspectives/outlook at those times. I still go back and revisit certain areas, but can't see myself rewriting them in full any time soon. I feel like that would be a disservice to my past self - I used these to sort out and explore my own feelings and hangups, and they served their purpose, but I still draw and talk about the boys more often than I expected I would when I drew my first doodle of Ellis and Lawrence in 8th grade detention. This post is just an infodump about the family of the main characters. I'm not getting into plot details just yet. Though it is worth noting, this was at the height of my Silent Hill hyperfixation, and Ellis and Lawrence began life as the protags of my imaginary Silent Hill fangame for which I made an entire gamefaqs walkthrough because I did not know how to write or draw too well. That doesn't really matter too much now, I just think it's fun.

The Lawson family consists of Francis (or Frank) and Amalia Lawson, and their two sons, Ellis and Lawrence.

Frank is a large man, about 6’3 with green eyes, short auburn hair, and a beard. His skin is somewhat pale but has a minor farmer’s tan from working outdoors, and there’s a spatter of freckles across his entire face. He sometimes wears rectangular half-frame glasses and uses a walking stick.

Amalia is about 5’4 and stocky, with dark brown, almost black hair cut in the patented Mom Bob(tm) with bangs and dark eyes. Her face is somewhat oblong with round, soft features and her skin is a warm mid-to-light brown.

Ellis ranges in age from 17 to 26 across plots. His facial structure favors his father. He’s about 5’10, has very light brown skin, freckles on his face, arms, chest and shoulders, dark eyes and auburn hair. As a teenager, his hair reaches to about his jaw with an off-center part, and he keeps it short and parted on the side as he gets older. He usually at least attempts to comb his hair back but half of it just falls back in front of his face anyway. Sometimes sports various non-serious injuries such as scratches and bruises. He’s rough-and-tumble.

As a teen, most of his outfits consist of torn up jeans, skater shoes, and a plethora of graphic or band tees. Sometimes an old flannel stolen from dad, or black canvas jacket. As an adult, he wears mostly intact but faded black work pants, black or brown work boots, a plain T-shirt and often an unbuttoned overshirt with either short sleeves or the sleeves rolled up.

Lawrence also ranges in age across stories, from 9 to 17. His facial structure favors his mother. He has pale skin, freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, green eyes, and auburn hair in a short, choppy buzzcut that he later grows out to reach past his shoulders as he gets into his teens. As a child, he’s very short and scrappy, and then becomes gangly and awkward as a teenager.

As a child, his wardrobe is typically all childish graphic tees and cargo shorts or jeans, all picked out by his parents. As he gets older, he becomes introverted and shy, always covering himself up in an absurd number of layers – he's often seen wearing a short-sleeved shirt with long sleeves underneath, either a flannel or sweater, and a massively oversized forest green jacket with a red fleece collar. He usually sticks to plain, slightly baggy jeans and sneakers.

Frank and Amalia married in their mid to late 20’s and moved to Frank’s hometown of Ansley, [state redacted].

Frank works in a hardware store and as a repairman. Some years ago, Frank suffered a spinal injury, resulting in chronic pain and his use of a walking stick. He still works at the hardware store and takes repair jobs, though he’s unable to work as often or for as long as he used to.

Ellis drops out of high school in the second quarter of 11th grade to work full-time at the hardware store and begins picking up smaller repair jobs around town. Lawrence, being much younger, is not employed but occasionally does smaller tasks such as sweeping up or organizing shelves after closing hours, or tagging along with his brother or dad on repair jobs to help where he can.

Amalia works at a packing and shipping facility in the city. She works overnight, six days a week with Mondays off. She’s usually home about an hour before her sons have to get up for school. Amalia’s pack a day smoking habit and Frank’s temper are the subjects of most conflicts, but they never progress past passive aggressive remarks or heated discussions. The family occasionally relies on financial help from a man named Mike, whose family has been friends with Frank’s for several years, to make ends meet. He’s often the reason that their heat and water stay on.

The Lawsons are a practicing family of Amicists. They regularly attend service at The First Church of the Shoal United in the next town over. More on Amicism at a later date.

Ellis has a lot of pent up resentment toward authority figures and “grown-ups” in general, even into his own adulthood, due to Backstory Reasons I won’t get into here.

James, Marie, Robin, and Brian are Ellis’ friends from high school. They mostly sit around smoking pot and watching bad movies, sneak out to drink at the park after curfew, and attempt to skate in vacant parking lots.

James was held back in middle school and is one or two years older than the rest of the group. Most parents in town still call him Jimmy and think he’s a very nice boy. If asked to describe him, his long line of ex-girlfriends would say “he’s so nice, but GOD he’s so dumb.” Marie was closer to Robin and James than she was to Ellis, so they didn’t hang out outside of the group at all. She thought Ellis was kinda weird, but not a “bad weird” so she never mentioned it or complained. Robin is that sort of midwestern emo girl in everyone’s math class who’s an artist, but all she draws is semi realistic eyes with elaborate eyeliner in her English notes. She regularly gets into arguments with Ellis and James on what genre different bands count as. Brian is the obvious stoner friend who would be kinda chill to hang out with if he weren’t so loud and annoying about how his parents totally don’t even care and just like, totally let him do whatever he wants.

Dropping out of high school to work a fulltime job, having no interest in college, minimal relationship experience, and staying in such a small and rural town leads to Ellis becoming socially isolated and unable to fully relate with people his own age. He slowly falls out of touch with his friends and people he knew from school, preferring surface level interactions with older coworkers, relatives and friends of the family.

Lawrence, as a result of his older brother’s attempt at parenting while Frank and Amalia are working, learns to be untrusting and uncooperative as well. He picks up a smoking habit by age 14, often stealing them from Ellis or from their mom's purse when she’s home, and sneaks out of his and Ellis’ shared bedroom through the window at night.

Lawrence is a nice kid, but struggles to make friends. Throughout all of middle school and into high school, he only manages to befriend two others named Catherine and Donnie.

Donnie is Brian’s little brother. He and Lawrence aren’t actually friends, but they tend to tag along when Ellis and Brian hang out at each other’s houses. Catherine has known Lawrence since they were in third grade, but they never hung out until they got put in the same advanced math class in middle school.

As he gets older, Lawrence begins to neglect his few friendships and social life in favor of fiction; most notably stories and unfiction focusing on the occult and supernatural, as well as a video game series called Sprout Friends, a puzzle game involving farming and anthropomorphic fruits and vegetables. If he isn’t hiding out on the rooftop of the house at night, he’s locked in the bedroom playing one of multiple Sprout Friends titles, or hunting for strange occurrences around town during the night.

Fun fact: Ellis' middle name is Layne, and Lawrence's middle name is Elijah. I thought it would be cute if their middle names had the same first letters as each other's firsts.

#ocs #lawrence #ellis #they have drawings go look at them

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whereyoursoulresides · 4 years ago

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Without Words II - Our Orbiting Paths, Chapter 1

Summary: In their third life, Kunzite has finally won the heart of Zoisite’s civilian reincarnation, Kozakura Izou. However, as their lives become progressively more intertwined, certain challenges begin to crop up… Between the stresses of work, adjusting to modern expectations, and old familiar faces flashing from the shadows, can Kunzite maintain a meaningful relationship with his partner successfully?

Rating: T+

Characters Featured in Fic: Kunzite, Zoisite, Nephrite, Jadeite, Naru, Umino

Chapter Summary: It's been a few months of dating now, and Kunzite thinks they're ready to take it to the next step.

AO3 Link Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826732/chapters/68145631#workskin

“Oh, you should’ve seen it, Kunihiro-sama,” the voice was saying over the phone. “Absolutely atrocious, I had never seen anything like it!”

“Hmn,” was all Kunzite said, albeit with a bit of a smile. He didn’t usually have much opinion on the matters of Izou’s latest gossip, but he was happy to hear Izou talk about anything at all. He took another bite of his dinner - plain white rice and grilled salmon. “And then?”

“Oh, I took myself right out of that business,” Izou continued, and Kunzite could just imagine his curls frazzedly waving in exasperation.

“It sounds like you might be out-growing that coffee shop,” was Kunzite’s observation.

Izou huffed over the phone. “Entirely possible. The staff is completely different now. Honestly, Kunihiro-sama, these new girls, sometimes their attitude is just appal- ow! ”

Kunzite quickly pushed some loose grains of rice past his lips. “Mn. Izou? Are you alright?”

There was a little hiss, and then a whine.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Izou answered. “Just a prick, that’s all.” The words came out mumbly as Kunzite could hear him suck on his finger. “Shoot, that smarts!”

Kunzite shook his head fondly. “Be careful,” he chided as he began to clean up the remnants of his dinner. He had about another five minutes of his break left. “Perhaps we shouldn’t chat if you need to concentrate...”

“Mn, oh no!” Izou insisted. The sound of the phone being adjusted to his ear cackled over the receiver. “At any rate, what time are you finishing tonight, Kunihiro-sama?”

“Late,” Kunzite answered. He glanced at the clock. “About midnight, I think.”

“Oh.” Izou sounded disappointed. “It’s been so long…”

It had perhaps only been a week since they'd last seen each other in person, but to both it had felt like an eternity. Between Kunzite’s long and odd working hours at the precinct and Izou’s equally erratic shifts at the coffee shop, it was difficult to set a real date time consistently, and every window of opportunity was never wasted. Although they chatted every night (and occasionally stumbled to work from either other’s homes), it seemed that their craving for the other’s physical presence was only growing exponentially by the day.

“I know,” Kunzite said kindly. He missed Izou too.

Izou seemed to gather up some strength. “Were you able to eat? You’ve mentioned before it’s tricky to get a meal in sometimes…”

Kunzite threw the plastic container out into the garbage under the sink.

“I managed to grab something. Although I must be hanging up soon, Izou…”

“Oh, okay,” Izou said in a rush. “Well, um, maybe I could drop by tomorrow, before my shift? I start late in the afternoon…”

Kunzite smiled. “That’d be lovely. Whatever works for you.”

“Okay.” Izou paused as though to say something pressing, but Kunzite chalked it up to their usual anxieties of never wanting to hang up. “Take care,” he finally said.

Kunzite tilted his head warmly.

“You as well. Chat soon.”

After hanging up the phone, Kunzite finished tidying up the break room and returned to his desk. In one corner stood the small rosebush that Izou had managed to resurrect. It was Kunzite’s pride and joy in the office, a perfect reminder in lieu of their photo from the Dark Kingdom. As he settled himself amongst his papers and computers, he thought briefly of how lucky he was. It was so surreal to think that this was where they - he and Izou - were now.

In the past few months, Izou’s memories of his third life had rapidly solidified, and it had been fascinating to Kunzite to learn everything about Kozakura Izou. His parents - a concept that Kunzite was still struggling to come to terms with - lived in the countryside, on a small, modest farm. His mother was an artist, and his father was a photographer. Izou himself had moved to Tokyo at age fourteen to better his schooling and career opportunities. In between part time work and school, Izou loved to read, thrift, garden, and shop. His creativity energy would burst into little endeavours - sketches, doodles, collages - and was increasingly weaving into his sense of style and fashion. It wasn’t uncommon for Kunzite to hear a little yelp or hiss over the phone as he had earlier- followed by the endearing dismayed whine - from sewing accidents wherein Izou had stabbed himself at his fingertips. As Kunzite flipped through his briefing updates in his hands, he wondered which project Izou had been working on today, and if he would be seeing it soon.

“Saitou-san.”

Kunzite glanced up to see a younger officer leaning over the corner of his cubicle. He was holding two folders in one hand, while the other was scratching his head under his cap. Behind him, Kunzite caught a glimpse of the civilian as she left the precinct, her dark auburn hair swinging behind her.

“Yes, Kobayashi-san?”

“I just got another statement about the nondescript white van. That makes five so far.”

“No attacks?”

“None, just trailing.” Kobayashi scrunched up his nose. “It’s hard to get an idea though on where to begin. No identifiable markings, and none of the license plates line up. Still seems worth investigating.”

Kunzite’s eyes drifted to the other folder. “And the other case?”

“Mn? Oh. Just another sighting of the cargo truck with the black star. No attacks yet this week, but it’s definitely suspicious.” He looked at Kunzite sheepishly. “I guess you’ll probably want the more exciting one, huh?”

If it was one thing Kunzite knew very well, it was patterns. And he knew what would follow the cargo truck with the black star all too well.

“I’ll take the van,” he said curtly, taking the folder.

The younger officer grinned in excitement, holding the remaining case to his chest.

“Maybe this means I’ll get to meet a Sailor Senshi…!”

“I think you have much more pressing concerns than that,” Kunzite said crossly. He gestured to some of the boxes stacked up at the farthest wall of the precinct. “Why don’t you start setting those up instead.”

Flushing embarrassedly, Kobayashi straightened immediately.

“Yes sir!”

As the younger officer hurried off to set up the precinct’s newest surveillance testing program, Kunzite shook his head. Although he was the senior officer, occasionally Kunzite felt more like an unofficial mother hen than a leader. Quickly, he brushed the thought aside and returned to his paperwork with a sigh.

And when else had he felt like that before…?

---

It had been a long night. While his precinct also technically dealt with thefts, burglaries, and other emergencies, Kunzite found the public-facing aspect of his job far more draining. Although he usually could leave it to the younger officers, the fact remained that most of them still needed guidance and training, which Kunzite had to deliver. By the time he climbed his way up to the top floor of his low-rise apartment, Kunzite’s stomach was rumbling, and he was ready to hit the hay.

However, upon arriving at his door, Kunzite was greeted by a little surprise that woke him right up.

“Izou?”

The young man had been sitting by the door, shrouded in a thick winter jacket with a backpack to his side. Seeing Kunzite, he jumped to his feet. “Kunihiro-sama, welcome home!” It was the biggest grin Kunzite had seen all day.

Despite himself, Kunzite couldn’t help but reflect a slightly confused smile back. He gently laid a hand on the small of Izou’s back. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Izou assured, lifting what looked like a large stack of lunch boxes wrapped in a spring green cloth. “I thought you could use something heartier so late after dinner time,” he said cheerfully. “It’s just some takeout, but…” His cheeks glowed faintly. “But...I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

As Kunzite inserted his key, he had to do his best to keep from growing into a ridiculous grin. Izou was just so sweet and thoughtful.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Kunzite finally said, as the bolt unlocked. Izou glanced up uncertainty.

“Was it too forward of me?” he asked.

Kunzite finally let the fondness of his smile show, and gently nudged Izou into the door.

“Not at all.” I’ve missed you too. “Please. Come in.”

Splitting into a grin, Izou slipped off his shoes and leapt inside. As he got settled and began to unpack the food, Kunzite’s smile faded when he realized how late it truly was. One in the morning, and while his area was safer than Izou’s neighbourhood, the city could still be a very dangerous beast at this hour.

“How long were you waiting for?” he asked as he slid out of his own shoes, watching Izou for any indication of polite refrain.

“Oh, not long,” Izou answered merrily, now plating the food into bowls. He gathered up the paper and plastic and swirled around to throw them into the garbage, not noticing Kunzite’s knitting brows.

“Izou.”

The boy paused for a moment to look up at Kunzite hesitantly. “About an hour,” he answered quickly. “But I knew you might be late so I brought a book, so it’s okay, really.” He then returned to cleaning up and setting the kettle for some tea.

Kunzite glanced down at the key that was still in his hand, and made up his mind. As Izou began undoing the tea tin, Kunzite gently but protectively began to wrap his arms around the younger man’s waist, bringing him close to his chest. Izou was clearly delighted by the closeness and looked over his shoulder to shyly smile at Kunzite.

“The city can be dangerous this late at night,” Kunzite murmured quietly into Izou’s soft hair. “You should be more careful…”

Izou was obviously touched by Kunzite’s concern, and brushed it off. “I’m fine, I can take care of myself,” he insisted. He placed one of his own hands on Kunzite’s forearm. “Don’t worry.”

Of course Kunzite couldn’t help but worry, he’d been worrying about Izou even before he had met him in this life.

“Maybe you should consider a different place to live,” Kunzite suggested. “Somewhere safer.”

Izou shrugged and began to swirl the tea leaves budding in the hot water. “Maybe once I have a little more money,” he agreed.

It took Kunzite a few moments to consider what his next words were going to be. Eventually, he pulled one arm away from Izou and placed the key, with purpose, onto the counter in Izou’s line of sight.

“I was thinking…” Kunzite mumbled softly, “that maybe you’d like to live with me.”

At first, Izou blinked at the piece of metal on the counter, not entirely sure if he was understanding, or had correctly caught what Kunzite had said. Unawares, Kunzite tightened his hug marginally, hoping that his suggestion wasn’t a step too far.

Slowly Izou turned his head around to look up at him. When Kunzite saw those big, bright and breathless eyes, he knew his fears were unfounded.

“Really?” Izou whispered, almost shyly. “You...think we’re ready for that?”

It was clear by Izou’s exhilarated whisper that he clearly was delighted to think they were, and Kunzite was definitely certain they were. Well, he was also certain because of how well he and Zoisite had lived together in the past… So, surely they were more than ready to move in together by now.

“Absolutely.”

It was clear Izou could hardly believe this turn of events, trying his best to hide the big grin Kunzite could tell was growing on his face. Finally, after rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, Izou beamed and nodded.

“Sure.”

It took nearly all of Kunzite’s willpower to not pick up Izou and swirl him around in his new home. Instead Kunzite simply broke into a smile again, followed by a short, relieved chuckle...Very quickly, the two of them were grinning and flushing together with excitement. Was this it? Were they really ready for this? It was as if both men were suppressing an armory of feeling that they were not yet ready to give words to, and giggling and laughing was the closest way they had to release the tension of mounting exhiliation that they were both trying to restrain.

“I’ll help you move in, the next time you’re free,” Kunzite said earnestly, seeing that he wasn’t alone in wanting to live together as soon as possible.

“I don’t have much stuff,” Izou replied, who couldn’t stop grinning behind his hands. “Although...I don’t have much money for my share of rent...”

“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” Kunzite reassured immediately. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Izou’s eyebrows stitched up together. “But...what about food?” He glanced around. “Utilities…”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Kunzite repeated again, firmly but gently. “I want to share my home with you. I want it to be our home. I’ll get everything ready.”

It was clear Izou couldn’t believe his luck. He was practically dancing into Kunzite’s arms when suddenly realization flickered across his face. Kunzite caught it instantly and his smile disappeared. “What is it?”

Izou didn’t say anything, but green eyes darted over to the bathroom. There was a moment of silence as both of them realized what Izou had just remembered... and Kunzite suddenly felt a bit awkward and unprepared.

“It’s okay,” he insisted, although he knew the memory of it wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Everything’s been removed, I promise.”

Hesitantly Izou glanced up at Kunzite, and it was clear how conflicted he felt about the situation.

“It’s empty,” Kunzite insisted again. “You can fill it with your things when you move in. Izou’s things.”

This seemed to make Izou feel a bit better, and the smile slowly resurfaced back up a bit. “Well it’s...not like I didn’t like the stuff ,” he mumbled a bit. “I mean, I did like that stuff and I still do like it but...it was just a bit weird seeing it all there ready for you, you know?”

“I understand.” Kunzite gently gave Izou a bit of squeeze.

“Did you really throw it all out though?” Izou asked. “It would’ve been a waste...I suppose I wouldn’t mind using it if you still have it.”

At that, Kunzite paused. He had gotten rid of it from the bathroom, but hadn’t actually thrown the items out…

Izou looked up curiously. “Kunihiro-sama?”

“Truthfully?” Kunzite asked.

“Truthfully,” Izou answered, but the smile on his face gave away that he was going to be okay with whatever Kunzite answered.

“Don’t look in the closet.”

Despite himself, Izou couldn’t help but giggle, and Kunzite’s shoulders released with relief. As Izou tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, Kunzite glanced up at the clock and saw how even later it was getting.

“Let’s eat.” He slowly undid his arms around Izou and lightly grazed Izou’s cheek as he pulled away. “I’ll undress and we’ll have supper.”

“Wait.” Izou took a step forward and placed his hand on Kunztie’s chest to stop him. There was a moment, and Izou’s eyes slowly trailed up from the bottom of Kunzite’s uniform, from its hem to his belt, to finally his eyes. “...Keep them on?”

Kunzite could tell that look anywhere and, hiding a smirk, he obliged. Gathering the food from the counter, the two of them made their way over to the couch to settle in for some cozy dinner. As Izou made himself comfortable nestling in Kunzite’s arms as they flicked the television on, Kunzite couldn't help but relish this humble but incredible moment between them.

Zoisite was finally home.

#anyo writes #without words 2 #our orbiting paths #chapter 2 #kunzoi #kunzite x zoisite #fanfiction #Civilian Life #Third Life

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yue-muffin · 4 years ago

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I finished Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance for the first time and wow, am I impressed. Having only played the 3DS era games and started Sacred Stones recently, I came to expect a certain range of quality and reach in terms of story. There are games that I found not overly complex but executed well (Echoes) and ones with a good premise and sloppy execution (Fates). Sacred Stones, so far, is one I find with a simple story done well. I’m not terribly enthralled with it, but there’s nothing there to annoy me either.

Path of Radiance is one of those games that takes the ‘simple/standard FE plot’ path, but the execution is brilliant, filled with both depth and heart despite the story having the same basic beats as many other FEs. I was really impressed with the worldbuilding, the character writing, the gameplay/story integration...

My biggest gripe with Awakening and Fates was that the characters were colorful, but few of them were compelling and many lacked the depth to take them beyond their archetypes. Path of Radiance did a good job making me feel that its characters all had a stake in the outcome of the battles, that they had an actual cause to fight for and didn’t just join the army just because. There is always a bit of contrivance in an FE game, but the quality of the writing can lessen or emphasize that feeling.

The gameplay mechanics change from game to game, and I find it really fun to test out the unique features of each installment and see how they influenced each other. the shoving animations are amazing

People also say this is one of the easiest FE games and I have to say, the bonus exp mechanic is probably why. I love this mechanic because of the way it allows the game to reward the player for taking certain actions encouraged by the story (like wanting to spare as many of the enemy as possible = we’ll give you bonus exp if you do). I, uh, am never doing a stealth run of the prison break chapter again though.

I went ultra vanilla and restricted myself to using only the Greil Mercenaries for this run, and I’ll leave my impressions on this post because half the fun of a FE game is building up your team.

I went with the Greil Mercenaries (+ Mia, because she joins them for the second game) for my first playthrough because otherwise I would have no reason to use both Rolf AND Shinon at the same time and Rhys would just warm the bench the whole game lol. And I was really curious to see Rolf and Shinon’s support line and actually have a use for all of those light magic tomes.

Ike: My Ike didn’t get screwed over in any stat, so absolutely no complaints other than the fact that he refused to proc Aether more than once in the Black Knight fight, making Nasir bail him out at the end of the allotted turns. I supported him with Soren because I wanted to see their support line, and have to say that it worked out really well. I was between Soren and Oscar, but it worked better this way because Oscar was always riding off with Titania at the front and Ike just lags behind unless you dedicate several units + Reyson to shoving him to the frontline. And when you’re using Mist, Rolf, and Soren, that really cuts into the units available for shoving.

Oscar: He, uh, ended up the MVP and netted the most kills in the run. Oscar can become an amazing paladin, but mine was so screwed in the strength stat for much of the early game that I had to abuse the bexp mechanic at the base to ensure he didn’t keep lagging behind. His defenses were super good by the end, and the little damage he did take was mitigated by activating Sol every other hit. Also, I have a bias for calvary units, so. Oscar. Loved him.

Titania: I...I love Titania. I love her character. She plays her role perfectly as the super strong unit who is there to support you in the beginning and falls off a little towards the end. She can still hold her own in the endgame, however, and I have no regrets for relying on her early on. There is so much experience to be had in normal mode that she doesn’t really rob anyone else of it unless you go ham and let her destroy everything. In the end, I gave her Savior so she can help deliver chip damage and save Shinon’s ass, I mean, rescue drop people.

Boyd: Super frustrating and nerve wracking to train, super hard hitter who still keeps you on your toes by the end. He is the most lopsided unit I have ever used (comparatively low defenses, speed, and skill compared to his attack and HP) but he was definitely fun and made sure I didn’t get too complacent. I don’t normally use fighters/axe units in the modern games because their accuracy is shit, their defenses are even more shit, and why bother with the headache. Once you can forge Boyd a good iron axe, though, his performance becomes more consistent. I did keep Tempest on him for a while, because I find it fun to use the skills a unit comes with, but I took it off eventually. It does help in certain situations when his hit rate isn’t so good (having the biorhythm doubled then is helpful).

Soren: I have a bias for this little asshole, lol. He’s a standard mage, basically. Kind of annoying to train in the beginning because he can barely take a hit, his movement is low, and MAGIC MAKES THE EMULATOR CRASH SOMETIMES, but if you can stick it out, you’ll be rewarded in the end with a unit that doesn’t care about how physically bulky any enemy is and can take down dragons with ease (plus, he heals A LOT because of his high magic stat even with a basic heal staff). I will admit, he’s a walking liability if Ike isn’t his support partner and magic in this game is slightly annoying because each element has its own weapon rank. He basically ate all of my Arms Scrolls because he has FOUR ranks to build (including the staff rank) and all of them have their uses, so I didn’t have him concentrate in one or the other. Although he gets weighed down by a lot of tomes because he is a twig, mine capped speed and didn’t have a problem doubling the dragons in the endgame with Thoron.

Rhys: One of the reasons I did a Greil Mercenaries run haha. He’s not a bad healer. It’s just that there’s benefit to training Mist as your main healer for that one fight later on, and having a team with THREE HEALERS is overkill (unless for whatever reason you made one of your mages use knives...). The problem is that while Soren can take a hit and Mist can run away, Rhys can do neither. His magic stat is very good though, and he was objectively better than my Mist by the end except that he wasn’t on a horse. He was really useful for the endgame since I gave him the Purge tome. Finally, he didn’t have to risk his neck to actually fight. I lowkey love his character though.

Mist: She is so cute, but mine was so screwed in the stats department. If not for bexp, it would have been a nightmare to train her and Rhys at the same time. I early promoted both of them, but getting her to level 10 was hard. Mine ended up getting magic on so few level ups, that I gave her two spirit dusts by the endgame and it was still amazingly low. Her strength stat was 13. 13!! I love the horse, though. Makes her a lot easier to use once promoted. She has no shoving capabilities, though, whereas Rhys (frail, sickly man he is) can shove like half the army. Go figure.

Mia: I love Mia. She can have my heart and run with it. In newer games I tend not to use mercenaries/swordmasters because their movement is kind of eh, their dodge-tank capabilities are not that impressive, and I don’t like relying on crits too much, but Mia was such an awesome addition to the team. It can be a bit difficult to train her in the beginning given her low defense, HP, and strength, but once she gets going, she wrecks things like nobody’s business. Would have liked to do some Wrath combos with her, but mine had Vantage and Adept and that worked just fine with a Killing Edge or a forged sword of some sort. The only issue is her super low strength cap (22?? really??) but the reliability of her crits and/or skill procs make up for that if you can get her past the early game.

Rolf: ROLF. Literally only viable because of bexp. I actually really love how they wrote his character, but what were they thinking by making him join so late, with such low bases AND his strength growth isn’t even that good (40%, less than Oscar’s). All else could be forgiven if his strength growth was at least 50% like his speed. If you can’t actually do damage, there’s no point. Once you pour exp into him like nobody’s business, he can actually be a good unit. I do really like using him, and mine got enough defense and resistance that he wasn’t a liability, but he definitely needs investment. On the other hand, his hit rates were so good that Gamble actually worked well on him.

Shinon: The racist asshole whose only redeeming quality is his relationship with Rolf. I loved their support chain, and actually I do like how the game put him on our team (after giving you a hard time recruiting him) because of how it brings an element of realism makes these characters more human, but yikes he’s potentially worse than Rolf to train because of how long he’s gone for. If you put aside the need for even more bexp to use him, he’s a pretty good crit unit. And he can surprisingly take a hit once trained. I left Provoke on him and BOY he nearly got himself killed in the endgame, but it is pretty nice to draw aggro in order to get some enemies closer for the foot-locked units to kill.

Gatrie: I miss tanks. Newer games make them so much less fun to use because they don’t tank very well (I’m looking at you, Fates...). Gatrie can’t get places fast and only laguz can shove him, but it was fun having someone who can take a million hits and soften enemies up for the others to take care of. He can’t really one round anything because he can’t double and leaves them with a few hit points left (except if he procs Luna) but he’s a worth while addition to the team. Takes a bit of bexp though, since he often doesn’t get as many kills as the rest.

Reyson: Not a Greil Mercenary, but like I was going to pass up a dancer singer who can refresh FOUR units. It was a pain in the behind to get the Knight Ring, but he does make really good use of it. He can also use the Full Guard ring so he can enter certain areas without being murdered by ballistas. I love his bird form, and the fact that frail heron man can SHOVE people who the tiny people in my army can’t (Mist, Rolf, Soren, I’m looking at you). no but really, Reyson’s character is actually really good too, I like him.

It was, uh, interesting getting through some of these chapters without a flier. Absolutely not necessary to have one, and if it was a chapter where I kind of needed someone, I just used Tanith or Janaff (the Naesala chapter was the only one that was annoying without a trained flier).

I genuinely had no idea who to stick skills on, haha. This was an interesting system where you really had to think about who to give a skill since they’re like old TMs in Pokemon...one use only. I like to have some limitations in the skill system though, unlike Awakening and Fates where it’s a free for all. I just like the more limited set of options.

#the muffin's video gaming adventures

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kaleidescope-writes · 5 years ago

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Heart of Audrilluria- Chapter IV; Tipsy Intel

Modern Fairytale AU

Prince!Tom Hiddleston x Theif!Reader

A few sun rays peaked through the curtains made of expensive materials. The room was lit in a soft orange glow. There was a moment of peaceful silence in the room, only partly filled by the distant chirping of birds. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, taking in the bronze designs that littered the cream ceiling of the fairytale room she found herself in. It was peaceful.

Peaceful until the high pitched ringing of the vintage telephone filled the air. She groans, turning to her left and reaching for the phone. “Hello,” her voice groggy. “Good Morning sunshine,” Edmundo greeted with a voice too cheerful for this early in the morning. “I hope you are well rested. For today, you have breakfast at the castle with the royals and nobility. After that, you have five hours of recreational time before you have to get ready for the Welcoming Ball. I’ll have both of your dresses in your room and a hair and makeup team ready for your return later this afternoon.”

Y/N sat up against the bed frame, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Do we have a say in what we wear?” she asked, hoping there would be an option. “Sadly, all your ball-wear has been pre-picked in order for you to fit in at the events.” She sighed, “What time does the breakfast start?” “In an hour,” came the response, “You have thirty minutes to get ready, no more. I’ll see you then.” with that, he hung up. Y/N took in the room from this new angle, appreciating all its fascinating details. Unfortunately, she had to cut her admiration of the room short and get up to start yet another day in the modern fairytale island.

She jumped off the bed, going towards her suitcase to pick out an outfit for the day. Placing it on the bed, she opened it and began to look over her options. After a few minutes of deliberation, she settled on a black, fitted blazer with a sky blue blouse and navy leggings. Tying her hair up in a bun she left a loose strand on either side of her face. Something simple yet classy for the first breakfast meeting.

“Good Morning, sunshine!” Amelie greeted as she entered the room. Already dressed and ready, she looked to the vanity her sister was using to get ready. Leaning against the door-frame, she smirked at her sister in a teasing manner. “You too?” Y/N, questioned with a small groan. Amelie chuckled, “I know you’ve never been a morning person, but we can’t be late! So hurry it up!” With that, she stood up straight and left the room as suddenly as she entered.”Y/N sighs deeply, the dread of starting the day this early consuming her thoughts once more. No she’s not a morning person, but whatever was left of the jet lag she felt made it worse.

Y/N looked in the mirror one last time, before deciding she was satisfied with her look. Putting back the contents of her suitcase, she grabbed some essentials; her minaudiere, phone, wallet with the information of her alias, earphones, external charger and wire, and a digital voice recorder with discrete microphone. She put the items in her purse and headed to the main room. Amelie looked up from her seat as Y/N entered the room in a confident stride. “Let’s do this.”

~~~~~

Thomas looked over his appearance once more in the mirror. Satisfied with his look, he turned and made his way towards the door. Turning the doorknob and opening it slightly, he prepared to walk out into the hall, only to be stopped mid step by a familiar face preparing to knock on his door.

He took a moment to process the situation before speaking, “You’re not the person that normally bothers me this early.” Augustus lowers his hand down slowly, an expression of confusion gracing his features. “I suppose I’m not?” Thomas smiled at his old friend and chuckled internally at his confusion. “ Well I guess I should explain myself,” Augustus started, “ I’m here to say good morning. So good morning. And to ask you for advice.” Thomas changed his position, stepping out to the side and closing his door as he listened to Augustus talk. “It seems a bit early to have messed up enough to ask me of all people for advice,” Thomas teased, “And if we must do this, we have to walk towards the breakfast hall.”

Augustus began walking down the hall with Thomas by his side. “It’s not that I made a mistake recently. It’s advice to avoid future mistakes.” Thomas chuckled, shaking his head, “Once again, I wonder what compels you to ask the king-to-be for help.” Augustus turned to his cousin, rubbing his neck with his left hand while continuing to walk. “Your advice hasn’t led me wrong yet,” Augustus said, “And besides, it was you or the person this concerns.”

Thomas’s steps faltered slightly, realizing what type of advice Augustus was going to ask for. Dawning a teasing smirk, Thomas turned to his friend, “OH, so you are finally going to assert your feelings for a certain relative of mine?” Augustus stopped walking suddenly. He knew? Of course he knew, it was obvious. Especially for someone as intuitive as Thomas Hiddleston. Thomas stopped walking as well, turning to look at him expectantly with the same teasing expression on his face. Breaking the silence between them, Augustus cleared his throat. “So you know?” he asked shakily, slowly continuing his stride down the long hallway.

He knew the answer long before he asked. Still, a small, simple-minded part of him wanted to confirm the obvious. “Of course I do!” Thomas asserted, genuinely smiling, “I’ve known you for as long as I can walk. I’ve known for a while. I figured you liked him since secondary school.” Augustus smiled sheepishly as both men continued down the hall at a slower pace. “I suppose we can skip over the awkward confession and hope you won’t want to kill me for it, then,” He laughed cautiously, “I’ll get right to it. How would-- or rather, should-- I go about asking him if he feels the same?” Thomas’s face shifted to a grave expression, “You have to fight another potential partner to death in the dungeon deep beneath the castle in order to prove your worth for courtship.”

Augustus looked to his best friend worriedly for a moment before catching on to his joke. “Why do I bother with you sometimes?” He asked, letting out an oddly anxious breath. Thomas cracked a smile, putting his arm around Augustus's shoulder. “All jokes aside, I’ll help you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The breakfast gathering consisted mostly of nobles discussing diplomatic actions they’ve taken in recent times and how that has improved their country’s politics. Every once in a while, the attention of the crowd was diverted to the prince and other members of the royal council, but the nobles would go back to mingling with each other as soon as they’d said their peace. Y/N and Amelie juggled between answering the questions of the ever interested nobles--using the false and true information they were given respectively--and asking for information themselves. All the while, the recorder in the minaudiere stored every word spoken to use later when they put their intel together.

For the most part, every person in attendance would evenly distribute their attention, but there were some--namely Charles and Augustus--that would notice Thomas sneaking looks at a certain daughter of the Spanish Marquess.

The breakfast ended and the guests continued to mingle in the castle grounds. Y/N and Amelie seemingly attracted as much attention as the prince himself. Despite this, however, they had little conversation with his highness--mainly due to Y/N’s subtle refusal to do so. Having little direct contact with him decreased the chance of being found out, she reasoned.

Meanwhile, Augustus tried to work his way into a confession using Thomas’s advice. Approaching Charles with new found confidence, he inserted himself into the present conversation. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say that our job is never easy, but it is truly an honor to be in our positions,” Augustus commented, standing right next to Charles. Charles turned to look at him with playful confusion, “I wouldn’t expect that from the man who does little more than smile and pose for the press.” The group of nobles laughed while Augustus sheepishly rocked on his feet. “To be fair,” a Count interjected, “He has a pretty face.” The group laughed some more. “In fact I wouldn’t mind welcoming him into my family,” he continued, “If only I had a daughter amongst my three sons to present to you.” Augustus shifted his feet slightly. “These are progressive times. Does it matter whether or not a nobleman marries someone of the opposite gender?” He asked, looking at each noble hopefully while keeping Charles in his peripheral vision. Another noble scoffed, “It’s a policy as old as time. Noblemen should marry noblewomen. It’s tradition! We can’t throw it away simply because changes around us occur. Our stability would be thrown out the door.” The others nodded in agreement, some whispering a confirmation of their standing. Augustus turned to look at Charles, a small hint of hope still remaining in his eyes. “When you put it like that, I can’t argue with you,”Charles said simply.

Augustus felt his stomach drop to his knees. He nearly lost his footing as the ground beneath him felt like it shook. Keeping a soft, counterfeit smile, he fixed his foot-stance and looked down momentarily. All he wanted at that moment was for the earth to swallow him whole.

It was time for everyone to go their own way and prepare for the ball. Y/N had mixed emotions, but it was part of the job. The upside to this was that the ball was the perfect opportunity for the false-bond to be formed. Finding the ‘fall-guy’ would be the most crucial part of the night. They had their plan, now they had to put it into motion.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ballroom was absolutely marvelous. The ornate walls were lit brightly, making every golden glow, spreading an indescribable feeling to every inhabitant of the room. Once more, the sisters were reminded of a fairytale. Their feeling was stronger this time, considering their expensive gowns. Both gowns were elegantly decorated and made them look like true royalty--or so Edmundo said. They fit in perfectly with the crowd of expensive formal wear and jewelry fit for, well, royalty. Soft, classical music filled the ambiance, making everything seem like a pleasant dream. It was magical. But there was work to be done.

“We have to focus. Let’s get over the glitz and glamour and get to work. This is an important night,” Y/N commanded, pulling her sister to a small, isolated corner of the room. Amelie snapped out of her awe and became focused on the objective at hand. “Ok, we’ve talked to every noble at breakfast, but none of them seem like a good ‘fall-guy’, Any ideas on how we proceed?” Amelie asserted, “Any ideas on how we proceed?” Y/N looked around the room, scanning the face of every noble and connecting it to a name. “Every noble we’ve spoken to knows very little that can help us. The only thing we can do is get close to someone in the royal council, but that’s too risky. We have to find someone close enough to the crown for information but not close enough to be a risk,” Y/N recounted.

“Let’s split up,”Amelie suggested, “It’ll be easier to find someone matching that description that way.” Y/N turned to her sister, a confident smile gracing her features. “Report back with each other at the end of the night. No leading anyone on.” she declared. Turning on her heel, she was preparing to take a step away from Amelie before she heard “And don’t get attached.” Y/N smiled, walking away as she spoke in a confident tone, “I never do.”

Picking a spot in the room in which everyone was easily visible, Y/N began her search. Looking for someone that matched what she was looking for would be challenging, but in order to proceed with the plan, she had to find the perfect mark. Looking around the room full of mingling nobles, Y/N tried to find someone suitable to form the false bond with. Every duke, earl, duchess, baron, and viscount she saw had already been deemed inadequate for the job. This was going to be difficult. She was close to giving up her search in the main room and move on to the balcony area. Her search stopped when her eyes came to look upon a familiar face, one she’d recognize from their welcoming arrival. He was helplessly leaning against the bar area, already drowning himself with his choice of poison. Y/N’s face lit up, realizing this was her ticket to get close to the target. She began her stride towards the man, meticulously planning her approach as she made her way through the well-dressed crowd.

~~~~~

The party was in full swing. Everyone in the room seemed to be enjoying the moment. All except one. Augustus looked aimlessly around the room, subconsciously searching for the one person that could make everything feel better. He didn’t notice when Thomas walked up to him until his solemn silence was broken by his best friend’s voice; “What happened? I expected you to be happily dancing around the room by now?” Augustus sighed, still looking out to the harsh critiques that discouraged him, “I didn’t even try. It’s hard to confess when you’re surrounded by nobles who all agree that a policy as old as time shouldn't be broken, even for love.” Thomas put his hand on Augustus’s shoulder, a look of sympathy etched into his features. “I’m sorry Gus. I--” “Please, spare me your pity,” Augustus interrupted, “I don’t need that from you.” Thomas nodded, standing in front of him and placing both hands on his shoulders to provide a distraction from the people that wounded him. “Tell me what you need and I will gladly comply.” he proposed. Augustus removed both of Thomas’s hands from his shoulders, eyes fixing on the bar across the room. “I need a drink. Don’t worry about me, worry about the party. All these people are here for you.” With that, he made his way to the bar, ready to drown out his sorrows with a bottle.

As soon as he reached the bar, he asked for his favorite drink, hoping it would help him feel better even slightly. The bartender handed him the drink and his mind began to race.

Leaning against the bar, he drank his whiskey on the rocks. Reflecting on what happened earlier that day, he kept his head down and focused on nothing but his glass every time he put it down after taking a sip. Things could’ve gone better, but of course, they didn’t. How did he think it was going to go? It was destined to end in disaster, why was he hopeful? Traditions can’t be broken, especially not when defended by old, close minded men. It was hopeless. He sighed heavily, downing the rest of his drink. Before he was able to ask for another, he noticed someone approach him on his left side.

“Getting a head start?” a female voice asked. Augustus rolled his eyes, putting his glass aside. “Don’t. I’m not the type of person you think I am,” he said, already rejecting whatever intentions she had. Y/N shifted in her seat slightly, “I didn’t say you were. I’m not here to try and start something with you.” To this he sighed finally turning to face her; “Then why are you here?” “I know this might sound cliche, but I know the look of a broken heart. You don’t need a drink, you need someone who’ll listen,” she said, “That, and I’ve pretty much met everyone else here and none of them are interesting enough to be around for longer than a few minutes.”

Augustus chuckled, turning in his seat to face her and leaned his head in his hand. “You think you’re the friend I need?” Y/N scoffed playfully, “Look, it’s either me, someone too busy to deal with your problems, or a bunch of old-fashioned nobles that love to brag about how great of a job they’re doing.” Augustus laughed, preparing to argue with her before he realized she was right. “So, who was the asshole that broke your heart?” she asked, ordering a drink for herself as well as a refill of his. “It wasn’t an asshole, it was a situation,” he clarified, “I could never call him an asshole.” Y/N takes a sip, raising her eyebrow and nodding slightly, “So I was right. This is about a broken heart.”

Augustus sighed, looking down at his feet as he nodded. “Yes, I suffer from a broken heart. He wasn’t the only cause.The other noblemen started the conversation. He just gave the final blow.” Putting her glass down, Y/N looked attentively at the sorrowful man in front of her. She took his left hand in hers, softly keeping it near him in case he wanted to pull away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think those uninteresting individuals were capable of saying something that didn’t make them seem self-righteous.” Augustus huffed, not removing his hand from her hold, “Yes, well, you never really know until something brings it up.” For a moment, both of them sat in a comfortable silence. Thinking about what to do next, Y/N downed the rest of her drink and looked briefly out into the ballroom.

“I know how to help you forget about this for a while,” she said, finally breaking the silence. Augustus looked up at her expectantly, silently hoping it would help. Y/N stood up, bringing Augustus with her. “It’s a party. People are dancing and having the time of their lives. Let’s join them.” Augustus tried to sit back down shaking his head as he pulled his hand away slightly, “No, no. I’m a terrible dancer.” Y/N smiled, laughing lightly at him, “So am I! C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Augustus didn’t budge, she had to try harder to get him to agree. “Forget about your broken heart just for tonight. Let’s show your lost love what he’s missing out on. No judgement.” Augustus smiled up at her. Unable to refuse any longer, he gave in and let her drag him to the dance floor. This was going to be one hell of a night.

~~~~~

“Where’s your head, Thomas?” Charles asked, turning away from the foreign duke he was talking to earlier. Thomas had his eyes fixed on the owner of a sky blue dress with golden adornments littering the fabric. “Among the crowd,” he replied. He didn’t turn away from the woman dancing near his best friend. He couldn’t look away. She was beautiful and seeing her dance around made her care-free spirit light up the room. Y/N was all he could see.

Charles followed his line of sight, only to be met with the pair. He knew Thomas was looking at her, it was obvious. The way his feet were pointed in her direction. The way he leaned towards her slightly when it looked as if she was going to slip. Every part of him was there with her. It made Charles chuckle, finally earning the attention of Thomas. “What is it?” Thomas inquired confused as to why he found it humorous.

Charles looked directly into his eyes, smiling from ear to ear. “You, my friend, are absolutely smitten!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: FINALLY!!! To make up for lost time, I will post one chapter everyday starting with this one. Thank you guys so much for your patience! I’ll try to do a better job to get on top of things! Thanks Again, I love you all and I hope all is well in these trying times. What do you guys think about the dress? As always, feel free to give me feedback, like, I seriously want to know what you think!! Let me know if I missed anyone in the taglist and I’ll see you tomorrow with chapter 5!!

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 5 years ago

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Silver and Tears || Adam and Kaden

TIMING: Takes place immediately following The Killing Moon PARTIES: @walker-journal and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Adam finds a fallen hunter and has to make a decision

Adam’s gear jostled as he made a boot camp hustle towards the distant sound of disturbance. The moon was a swollen argent sphere beyond the thick ceiling of branches, casting the forest in a wane selenic ambiance. Pools of moonlight seemed to form in the gaps between trees and cast the gore covering the busy Hunter into ugly black streaks and stray pieces of fur. Freshly cut pelts thudly wetly against the M4 carbine also slung over Adam’s shoulder. This night had been a hectic one, and Adam’s current hunt had been drawn off course by a frenzy of barking.

Cold brown eyes searched the woodland as he drew nearer, dilated in the darkness and adrenaline. At first when Adam saw the limp form and frantically barking dog he assumed that he'd come upon just one more victim of the lunar frenzy, far from the first he’d seen tonight. But as he hustled up a brush-covered ravine and vaulted over a great fallen tree, features became visible amidst a veil of blood.

“Kaden?!”

The Walkers had raised their children to be soldiers in the Great War against the Hell dimensions. Even for superhuman soldiers wounds were inevitable, and Adam’s training kicked in, drowning all questions in the race against time that colored all First Response efforts. Adam sprinted to Kaden, eyes scanning the darkness to guard against the all-to-common tactic of wounded allies being left as bait for an ambush. However the pale moon-drenched woods were silent other than the dog’s barking and inquisitive whine as Adam drew near.

“Hey man, you still there? If you can I need you to speak to me. It’s Adam, you in there Kade?”

Keeping up similar requests for response, Adam slid out of his heavy gear and began checking Kaden’s pulse and shining a flashlight in his eyes.

Kaden woke up, blinking at the lights shining in his eyes. Great. Not dead. That was a good start. He heard Abel first, whining, upset. The voice was familiar. Hard to place for a moment, focus was still coming back slowly. And everything was still woozy. “Stop shining that fucking light,” he grumbled. He tried to piece together the events just before. Woods. Hunting. Werewolf. No, the werewolf. Then a scream. His vision still not all the way back, Kaden went to push himself up. “Where? Wolf, there was a… Scream. And… Regan.” Oh bad idea, really bad idea, world started spinning again. Lying down was better. “Walker?” he said, finally placing the voice and now that his eyes were covered in less stars and white patches. “When’d you get here?”

Though Adam Walker would have liked to have entertained surprise that Doctor Kavanagh was involved in all this somehow, at this point it would’ve been disingenuous. The wounds on Kaden were consistent with a werewolf, but ‘The Werewolf’ left him at a loss. However Kaden’s eyes were responsive and focusing on the light, which was something at least. Adam clicked off the flashlight and began tending to Kaden with a practiced motions that possessed military efficiency but probably left much to be desired in the tender beside manner department.

“Just now, was following something when I heard your dog raising hell.”

From his bags Adam retrieved a flask of a bright orange liquid that was luminous in the darkness, like a piece of warm sunset that contrasted sharply with the washed out selenic forest. He unstopped the top, filling the air with the scent of pungent spices that brought to mind rosewater and the mingled redolence of bazaars beneath the hot desert sun. “Drink up,” Adam commanded, placing the flask to Kaden’s lips. “It’ll ease your body out of shock and clear your head some.” Adam didn't add that it would also help make his death painless should it come to that. Hopefully Kaden was not too far gone here.

For a moment, Kaden entertained the thought of going back to sleep. That sounded nice. Less pain. Less spinning. Abel’s whine jolted him back. Nope, sleep was bad. Passing out again was bad. He drank whatever the hell it was Adam gave him and it was helping. Slowly. Things were coming back. “The scream. You heard it right?” He thought about sitting up again but thought better of it. For once. His arm felt fur brush up against him and then warmth against his side. Kaden reached over to pet his dog. His very good dog who couldn’t hunt a damn thing but probably saved his life all the same. Well, hopefully. Jury was still out. “Did you see a werewolf? A black… Black with a mark.” With the hand not currently petting his dog, he drew the sign in the air. Well, tried to. And even when not half conscious, he wasn’t a great artist. “My camp. It’s.. It’s not far.”

Part way into his ministrations Adam was faced with a choice. Adam was no physician but the mauling Kaden had suffered was bad, the kind of bad where that camp would probably be where Adam dug a grave.What magic Adam knew could make anti-venoms with the proper herbs and maybe a warding seal with lots of blood and luck, but lifting Kaden’s shirt made it clear that even the military hydrophilic foam in his backpack couldn’t stop internal bleeding like this.

“Nope sorry man, didn’t hear the scream.”

Did the Banshee scream for Kaden? Wasn’t that certain death? Could Adam even prevent something like that? Should...he stop fate like that?

Adam looked from his brother Hunter, maybe fated to die, to the tiny vial in his first aid kit, the most valuable possession Adam owned. Seconds ticked by, and the window of choice narrowed.

Fuck monsters and their magic. Fae weren’t God. They were just thin-blooded mutants who licked to dress up their powers in gradiouse superstition. Fuck them. This is happening.

“Nope, killed myself a red Lycan and a white Dip, but no black wolf..”

The most expensive prescription drug on the market was Myalept at 71,301 bucks for a single dose. A vial of Phoenix Tears the size of Adam’s pinky? Well that made Myalept look like fucking lunch money.

Adam took a swath of bandages and winced only slightly as he poured his entire college tuition over the cloth. It’d been a gift from Mom, pure life taken from one of the rarest supernatural beings in the world. But if Adam let another man die when he had the power to save him. How could he ever be worthy of that gift?

Adam tore the part of Kaden’s clothes that covered the wound, and applied the world's most expensive piece of sports bandaging. He secured the moist cloth against the most lethal parts of the wound to ensure maximum regenation. He placed the empty vial in his First Aid kid without comment and shouldered his bags.

“Sure thing man,” he said, hoisting his backpack and supporting Kaden to his feet if the other Hunter let him. “Let’s get to camp”

Kaden tried to scrunch his face in confusion but it was feeling like a lot of effort just then. “Are you deaf, Walker? Scream… the, you know…” There was no way anyone in the woods that night hadn’t heard it. Wait. Regan. Did that mean? He’d initially been worried a monster was after her, that something had found her. That the werewolf might have. Then he remembered. Other hunters. Wardens. They all heard it, too. They had to. Merde. No, he wasn’t-- he couldn’t let that-- Get up. He had to get up. He couldn’t let that fucking wolf take another person away from him that he-- Why wasn’t he able to get up?

“Putain. That wolf it… it was the one. Killed my parents. I know it. Almost… had him.” The longer he lay there, the less he was able to feel. Not his toes, or the tips of his fingers brushing through his dog’s fur. Slow, delayed panic rose in him as Adam kept on doing whatever it was he was doing there to his wounds. Kaden kept running his hands through Abel’s fur, slowly, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. One deep breath. He couldn’t say what it was but guess whatever he’d given him earlier must have been kicking in. Feeling started flowing through him again. It hurt and was wobbly, but leaning on Abel and then Walker, he was up and walking. Well, hobbling.

Adam nearly tripped when Kaden explained the context of the encounter. Holy Shite. Yeah sure, family dying to monsters was an inevitability of Hunter life. Adam’s own father had sacrificed himself in a Rift event three years ago. However Adam Walker wasn’t yet a Hunter who had lived too long, and still felt the pang of empathy when Kaden spoke. He remembered the rage, loss, and helplessness he’d felt when the news had arrived from Jerusalem. Grim as it was, Dad dying as a hero during something as vast and impersonal as a demon rift was easier than something like this. Adam couldn’t imagine what’d it’d be like to lose both parents, especially to an individual person who had the fucking audacity to still be breathing after the act.

What could he say? How could he answer something like that?

“Holy fuck, well can try and track it after you get patched up,” was the best Adam could manage. He wasn’t exactly the guy people called on for comfort that wasn’t binging related, not that he imagined Kaden would exactly be receptive to a heart to heart in a time like this.

“I was in some of the old mining caves past the river,” Adam explained in a belated response to the previous line of inquiry. “A Lycan had dragged a couple into a kind of den type thing, couldn’t hear much down there.”

There was a tricky pit near a ravine, but in due course Adam supported Kadan over his shoulder towards a clearing that matched the older Hunter’s description.

“Alright, think we're almost to the camp here.”

“This time next month. Dead. He’s dead.” Or he would be. One way or another. If it was the last thing Kaden did. This was the second time Kaden almost died to that piece of filth werewolf. Walking away, no dead bodies, felt like a failure. Guess that checked out for his life on the whole as of late. The trek back to his camp felt longer than he though possible. He hadn’t strayed that far, had he? Then again the whole almost died thing probably put a damper on that speed thing.

Walker’s explanation about the scream didn’t make sense. No way a cave would dampen that sound. Kaden wasn’t sure he cared. And he didn’t think it was wise to alert another hunter to the fact there was a banshee in the woods. Especially if that banshee was who he was sure it was. Best keep that close to his chest. Just in case. “Strange.You didn’t hear it. Sounded like a monster. Maybe it was just the wolf and the blood loss thing fucking with my head.”

The camp came into view and a wave of relief washed over him. Only, Kaden figured it might be a bad idea to stay there outside overnight on a full moon by himself while injured. Putain. “Thanks, Walker. For, you know.” Saving his fucking life. “You’re a better hunter than I am. Pretty fucking sure.” For a lot of reasons. He went to take a seat in the chair he’d brought with him, placed by his makeshift fire pit. “Bad idea to stay here, right? Like this?” He winced at the thought of moving more. He just wanted to curl up in his sleeping bag and go to bed. “Too much trouble to ask for a ride back?”

“Maybe,” Adam said noncommittally. However Kaden seemed to buy his lie or have other things like mind-boggling pain to worry about. The truth of why he hadn’t heard the scream was a kettle of fish he wasn’t ready to go into right now. Maybe when comrades weren’t two steps from death.

Kaden got seated and Adam began unpacking some things, offering some water Kaden’s way. “No I’m not,” Adam said, a knife twisting in his gut at the memory of when he’d stopped being a Hunter and fallen to be no better then the things he hunted. “You’d do the same for me. We’re just brothers serving humanity,” Adam said, reiterating the abnegation-focused philosophy he’d been raised with. Only the cause mattered. Hunters were born to be unseen servants and protectors to humans. Glory and status were immaterial.

“I’m not leaving you to go get the car, because we don’t know if ...It..or some packmates are still out there,” Adam said. “I’m gonna call Harper and Sanchez,” he continued, flipping through his phone. “They can bring their pick-up and we’ll get you a doc.”

“Rest up Kade, you’ve seen him now. The fucker’s gonna wish he finished the job.”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #adam #walkerjournal #silver and tears #writing

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a-memory-of · 5 years ago

Text

It was a warm summer’s day on the Narrowlight Isles. With the sun high in the sky, the large island across the strait could be seen in the distance, unhindered by the nightly fog. It mostly consisted of thick trees and foliage, which didn’t grant much new information to Madoc and the rest.

During breakfast, Red had requested that Arshtat join her on the beach that afternoon. The sandy shores within Athra’s limits were deemed safe enough by the Goblins.

Red wore her traveling attire, with a turban wrapped about her head. Even in the midst of a rundown place with limited supplies, she managed to keep herself looking refined. Bangles clinked against her wrists as she knelt to pick up an interesting shell or stone, waiting for the Xaela to arrive. It was not long before Arshtat Ejinn made her way to the small, secluded beach just outside the village. Khuu was at her side, following along and occasionally bumping his head against her hand for a scritch or two as they walked. She was not quite sure what Red had wanted, but she had, of course, agreed to meet with her. It wasn't hard to slip away with Madoc occupied and so many plans to be made.

Once the other woman came into view, Arshtat bowed her head in greeting, "A-Ah, Miss Red... s-sorry, I hope you did not wait long." The little Xaela had to marvel at her for a moment, so refined and tall as she was.

Her own clothes suited the isles well enough, a simple tunic and cropped leggings. She had not bothered with shoes, the beach and the waves perhaps too tempting during the more quiet moments of the day. “Not long at all,” Red assured with a smile. She stepped over, took Arshtat’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. She always seemed quite comfortable with touch, as if everyone was her dearest friend. And Arshtat was certainly up there, despite not having known her long.

“Just long enough to find this.” In her opposite palm, she showed off the iridescent white shell, fully intact and glimmering the sunlight. “Isn’t it lovely?” she asked. Her green eyes brimmed with wonder and satisfaction. Arshtat herself was a tactile person. The touch to her hand was welcome, and she returned the hold. Khuu rubbed his large head against Red's leg in his own form of greeting. With a smile, she looked relieved.

"Oh?" she peered down at the shell, and giving an awed nod. "It is, yes. It reminds me of the kind my mother used to fashion into jewelry..." Arshtat blinked, lips parting slightly. It had been some time since she had thought of her tribe, or her family. Red released Arshtat’s hand to offer an enthusiastic scruff to the top of Khuu’s head and neck, looking down and smiling at the tiger before peeking back to the Xaela.

She noted her expression, and her eyes lit curiously. “Would you show me how she used to make them? Not now, of course, but perhaps when we return to the Broken Horn?” Eyes turning up to the other, Arshtat looked a little surprised at the request. But the look melted easily into something more fond, "I... would like that. My mother was not of the Ejinn originally... H-Haragin, seafarers. She was always adorned with such things."

As Khuu excused himself with a low chuff, heading toward the water, Arshtat looked a little embarrassed, "I am sorry. I d-did not mean to distract. You... asked me to come here, yes? I-Is something the matter?" Red’s brows rose. “Nothing is the matter. And that was hardly a distraction,” she dismissed with a smile. “I enjoy getting to know you. Come sit with me.”

She moved to the side, finding a rather large rock to sit upon. There was room enough for two. “I wish to know your thoughts. What do you make of all this?” She motioned to the island around them. "O-Oh," Arshtat bit on her lip, obediently following Red to the nearby rock and settling down beside her. There was something in the way the other woman held herself that made Arshtat incredibly nervous. She was so well-kept, almost regal.

She furrowed her brow at the question, glancing around while she thought. Her eyes eventually settled on Khuu in the distance as he played in the waves along the shoreline. "I... am not sure," Arshtat finally admitted quietly. "Others s-speak of odd feelings, and e-even I must guess that it is connected to the strange fog. Th-Then there is that creature in the pit..." Red seemed keenly aware of Arshtat’s nerves, and she offered the young woman a small nudge and a warm smile, then listened.

“Ah, I have heard of that pit. The Archivist. I would like to see for myself, when we become more acquainted with the mainland...” She hummed thoughtfully and set the shell in her lap, admiring it a moment before glancing back to Arshtat to ask, “and Madoc? How do you think he’s faring?” Arshtat tried to smile at the nudge, forcing herself to relax a bit. She knew Miss Red did not mean to be as intimidating as she was. She gave a small nod when the other spoke of the pit, though it was clear the topic made her uneasy.

"I... am worried for him," Arshtat admitted, fiddling with the bracelet Madoc had given her so long ago. "I know he would say I am being foolish and should not but, I do. I fear there is something more that h-he is not telling me, or perhaps more he did not know himself..."

______________________________

With @fatedflower

After a moment, she looked up to Red and confessed something that had been on her mind, "When we went to the p-pit... it said it did not know of things n-not of the island. But... it seemed to know Madoc's ring. The one from the man who r-raised him. M-Madoc said he never was able to f-find this place..." The news made Red’s brows furrow. She touched her bottom lip in thought and looked down, and she saw the bracelet. Her features softened, and she smiled at Arshtat.

“How much do you know about Wolf?” The question seemed sudden and unrelated, yet she seemed genuinely curious. “Madoc has never called him ‘father’—although he’s gotten close. But that is who Wolf is, in everything but name. Has he told you much?” The little Xaela gave a small nod, "H-He told me, yes, he was the man who raised him after his tribe was... attacked. The man who taught him to fight and h-how to be a mercenary. He was the man who left him the ring which controls his Karash."

Arshtat paused, looking down to her lap again and then shook her head, "That is all I know. M-Madoc has never shared much of his past with me. A-And I do not wish to pry." “Wish to pry?” Red did not even try to stifle the laugh that framed her words, and she turned more fully to clasp Arshtat’s hands again. “My dear Arshtat, if there is anyone who aught pry, it is you. You, who shares his bed each night. You, who has remained by his side for...cycles now. You, who Madoc says he loves.”

Her features were soft but clearly amused, and her kind eyes would try to meet Arshtat’s gaze. “You are a lovely woman with a gentle heart—but for stars’ sake, pry more.” As hands took hers again, Arshtat brought her wide eyes back to Red. "I..." she found she couldn't meet the other's gaze, no matter how kind it was, for very long. She suddenly felt ashamed. Should she have asked Madoc sooner? Had he been waiting for someone to share such things with?

Arshtat shook her head, "I... I have always been content with what h-he wishes to tell me. That if there w-was something that needed to be said... he t-trusted me enough to tell me. He must h-have his reasons, yes?" She seemed genuinely conflicted, worried. "But... if something troubles his thoughts, I do not w-wish for him to be alone with them..." Red gave Arshtat’s hands a gentle squeeze. “This is something you must decide yourself. Madoc does not share certain parts of himself easily—there are things he is ashamed to admit.”

She frowns then, mirth lost as she continues to look at Arshtat. “...Things he has never forgiven himself for. That is what worries me, and what I think you must know. For his sake, as well as yours.” "I... I understand," Arshtat said quietly, nodding her head slightly as locks of purple hair slid over her eyes. She finally brought her gaze back up to Red, and she could only mirror the concerned frown. To realize Madoc had been suffering without her knowing, for so long, made heat gather behind her eyes. "I will try to t-talk with him..." Red's brows rose as she noticed Arshtat's expression, and she gently brushed the hair from the Xaela's face. "I did not mean for tears," she says with a small, sympathetic smile, holding her face between her hands for a brief, comforting moment. "The more you know, the more you can help him when he needs it. 'Tis all I meant to say."

Her hands return to her lap, but she keeps her attention wholly on Arshtat. "I have known Madoc for a long time. He is no stranger to big choices—starting a mercenary company. Building a bar. Confessing his love." Her soft smile expanded at the last one as she peeked to Arshtat. "But this seems different, doesn't it? This seems...very personal for him. Something out of...obligation to Wolf, not solely out his own desire." Her words are slow and intentional, as if she's deciphering exactly what she's trying to say before she says it.

She waved her hand, swatting away the thoughts and the trying to shoo away the mood. "But look at me prattling on and filling the silence. I do that when I feel guilty, you know." Arshtat shook her head quietly, trying to offering Red a smile. She had managed to keep her tears at bay, though it was clear she had much to think on. "It is not you...," she leaned into the hands for that moment, a gentle and foreign touch. "I simply... r-regret not seeing it. All I have ever wanted... was to be there for him. To make him happy."

As Red pulled back, and Arshtat settled back as well, she listened and agreed with another small nod. "When we r-received the letter, something changed, yes. T-To bring everyone here... to organize all this," her hand gestured a bit, toward Athra and toward the airship. "I know it means m-much to him. We do things like this... for family."

Khuu, who was quite soaking wet by now, was stalking up the beach back toward them lazily. He flopped at the base of the rock, under their feet. Arshtat looked to him, then slowly pulled her eyes toward Red once more, "I believe... it was all n-needing to be said. But... why do you feel guilty?" Red offered a small smile toward the soggy tiger. "For worrying you, of course," she says, peering back to Arshtat. "You make Madoc quite happy, and do not doubt it for one moment." She was quite firm in that regard.

"He speaks your praises quite often, and I believe every one of them. 'She's the best thing to happen,' he says. 'Aye?'" A bit of amusement plays on her features at the familiar word of his. She couldn't hold back the quiet laugh at the familiar 'aye' in such a voice. Arshtat nodded, cheeks colored. She never really doubted he cared for her, but to hear that he spoke of it so openly to others was still something she was unused to.

"I do not tell him enough, what h-he means to me, as well," Arshtat looked out to the waves for a moment. She rose a hand up and tucked a lock of hair behind her horn. "We... all have things we are ashamed of. I am... not a stranger to it." “Regret is what makes us,” she mused aloud. “Anyone who can look back and think they’ve done nothing wrong, are lying to themselves. It is what we learn from those regrets that allow us to grow. For better or worse.”

She smiled toward Arshtat. “You ought to go tell him. He would like to hear it, I’m sure.” Slipping off the rock, she straightened her garments and tucked the seashell in a pouch. “You will still teach me how to make this jewelry, won’t you?” Khuu looked up as Red moved to stand, eyeing her lazily from the ground but making no other move besides a low chuffing sound. Arshtat slid off the rock herself, carefully stepping over the lounging tiger. "O-Of course," she nodded her head, "The first free moment we h-have back home."

"Thank you," she continued, her fingers lacing with each other and fidgeting slightly. She seemed less upset than before, perhaps even determined. "F-For your words. And for listening to my w-worries." “You need not thank me,” she replied with a soft smile, her green eyes bright. “But you are welcome all the same. Would you care to walk back with me, or will you be staying for a bit longer?” "I think... I will stay a moment more," Arshtat replied quietly. "Perhaps the some time in the sea will help my thoughts." A swim did often do wonders for the Ejinn, and time to think was needed. The little Xaela offered a wave in farewell. "I shall see you b-back at camp soon." “I look forward to it.” Red reciprocated in kind, lifting her hand in farewell. “Keep an eye on her, won’t you, Khuu?” She did not forget the tiger, smiling a bit, before waving again to Arshtat and heading back to the settlement.

#ff14 #ffxiv #rp #roleplay #rp logs #Arshtat Ejinn #Red #vienne livaudais #Memories of the River Daughter #Inheritance

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