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angelremnants · 6 months ago

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Heat Waves l J. B. Barnes

PART TWO.⠀LATE JUNE NIGHTS

summary : After years of manipulation by Hydra, Bucky Barnes must find his place in a world that has long moved on without him. With you, an independent and unwavering agent by his side, he reluctantly embarks on a transformative journey of recovery in Wakanda. Amid the kingdom's vibrant culture, your connection to Bucky deepens as he confronts personal demons and embrace the healing process. Bucky learns to welcome the warmth of new beginnings, understanding that even after winter's cold grip, the sun can shine through. Inspired by Heat Waves by Glass Animals.

pairing : James ''Bucky'' Barnes x f!reader

warnings : Mature (16+), slow burn, eventual romance, pure fluff, mentions of past trauma, themes of healing, banter, teasing, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 13.4k

author's notes : So, I lied. I said this next part was going to be the continuation AND ending of this fic.. Long story short, I went overboard (again) and wrote way much more than I had initially planned (I decided last minute to incorporate sexy time for the last part because I'm feral). Anyway, I highly recommend reading the first part beforehand, as it provides essential context for the following scenes.

Writing about Wakanda makes me miss my home country—listening to All the Stars (one of my fav' songs, btw) especially makes me miss all of the amazing summers I spent there, so I took a bit of inspo from them while writing some parts of the story.

I'd also like to adress an immense thank you to @stilleobjection for helping me get set on major components of the story. Live, laugh, love my moots<3

(ao3 version)

The sparring matches had ended on a high note, leaving everyone in good spirits. Shuri, still grinning after her mock victory over you, clapped her hands.

“Alright, white boy, Sparky, we’ve got plans for you today,” she announced, exchanging a glance with T’Challa. “Something is cooking back at the palace, so we need you two out of the way while it’s being perfected.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Out of the way? Should we be worried?”

The king chuckled as he clasped Bucky on the shoulder in camaraderie. “Not at all. My sister thought it would be good for you both to explore a bit of Wakanda’s countryside. It’s a chance to unwind after the training session.”

Shuri tilted her head toward a guide waiting nearby. “We’ve got quads—well, Wakandan versions of quads—prepped for you. Trust me, they’re fast, safe, and a lot of fun. And since I don’t trust you two to behave, I’ll be joining.”

“Wait,” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes. “Why do I feel like this is part of some elaborate scheme?”

Shuri gasped, feigning offense. “White boy, I’m shocked you’d accuse me of such treachery. This is purely for your benefit. You should be thanking me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, let’s do it. But if this is a setup, Shuri, you’re paying for the therapy.”

With that, the three of you followed the guide to an open clearing where two sleek quads—futuristic in design and gleaming in the sunlight—were parked. They looked like something out of a sci-fi film, with smooth, aerodynamic lines and holographic controls.

Shuri, clearly in her element, hopped onto one of the bikes with ease. “Aren’t they beauties? Vibranium-powered of course, eco-friendly, and ridiculously fast.” She patted the handlebars of hers. “You’ll thank me later.”

As she excitedly hopped onto one and began rattling off specs, you noticed Bucky standing back, arms crossed, staring at the vehicle like it was some alien artifact. He crouched down, inspecting the engine with a furrowed brow, his metal fingers tapping lightly on the side as if trying to figure out its secrets.

“It’s not going to break down, old man,” you teased, watching him lean closer.

“I’m just saying,” he replied, gesturing to the sleek design. “Engines like these don’t look like they belong to anything real. Where’s the exhaust system? The carburetor? This thing looks like it’s from outer space.”

Shuri, standing next to her quad, rolled her eyes. “It’s vibranium-powered. No carburetors, no exhaust. Welcome to the 21st century, Grandpa.”

Bucky gave her a flat look. “I like machines I can understand. Motorcycles, for instance. You know, things that don’t look like they’re about to fly off into orbit.”

Shuri smirked, leaning casually against her quad. “Don’t worry, white boy. It’s not as fragile as your Harley. And you might even like it if you give it a chance. Just try not to overthink it, alright?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky shook his head, muttering something about "vibranium death traps" under his breath.

Finally, he climbed onto his quad, still inspecting the handlebars as if they might suddenly sprout wings. “How’s it feel?” you asked, watching him warily test the controls.

“Like it’s about to insult my mother,” he muttered.

Shuri groaned. “Just start the thing! I promise you’ll survive.”

The ride began with a burst of speed as the quads hummed to life, their engines emitting a low, futuristic whirr that reverberated through the open air. The path wound through Wakanda’s breathtaking countryside, a kaleidoscope of vibrant greenery and golden sunlight that spilled across the landscape. Rolling hills stretched into the horizon, dotted with clusters of wildflowers in colors so vivid they looked almost unreal. Tall trees arched overhead, their bioluminescent leaves shimmering faintly in the soft light, as if breathing with life. Crystal-clear streams meandered alongside the trail, their waters catching the sunlight and scattering it like a thousand diamonds.

The air was crisp and cool, carrying the earthy scent of freshly turned soil mingled with the subtle sweetness of blooming flora. You breathed deeply, letting the scent wash over you as the wind whipped past.

“How’s it feel now?” Shuri called out, her voice cutting through the hum of the engines. She glanced back at Bucky, her tone half-challenging, half-playful.

Bucky, despite his earlier reservations, seemed more at ease now. His broad shoulders were less tense, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Not bad,” he admitted grudgingly, though his tone suggested he wasn’t about to heap praise on the machine just yet. The wind caught his hair, making him look a little less like the stoic soldier and more like someone who might actually be enjoying himself.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the rush of adrenaline making your heart race. “This is incredible! How fast can these go?”

“Fast enough to outrun your doubts, Sparky!” Shuri quipped, her grin evident even from a distance as she twisted the throttle and sped ahead.

The three of you carved your way through the trails, the quads kicking up soft plumes of dirt in their wake. Every so often, you paused to admire the scenery—expansive meadows that seemed to stretch forever, their grasses swaying lazily in the breeze, or ancient-looking rock formations jutting proudly from the earth like guardians of the past.

Shuri acted as a guide, pointing out landmarks with unrestrained enthusiasm. “That hill over there? It’s where some of the first Wakandan warriors trained with vibranium shields. And that tree? It’s older than most of the royal palace!” Her knowledge was infectious, her voice laced with pride and affection for her homeland.

Meanwhile, Bucky couldn’t seem to resist his inner mechanic. Every so often, he’d pull his quad to a halt and hop off, crouching down to inspect its parts like an overprotective grandparent. “These controls are too smooth. It’s like it’s driving itself,” he muttered at one point, tapping a finger against the engine casing.

“That’s because it is smart tech, white boy,” Shuri teased as she rolled up beside him. “Honestly, you’re acting like an old man trying to figure out a smartphone.”

Bucky shot her a withering look, but there was no heat behind it. “I’m just saying, machines like these don’t need to be this complicated. Give me a Harley, and I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t long before the shenanigans began. Shuri, ever the troublemaker, led the charge.

“Think fast!” she shouted gleefully, swerving sharply to kick up a spray of dirt and grass that splattered across Bucky’s quad.

Bucky coughed, glaring at her as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “Seriously?”

“Just keeping you on your toes, Grandpa!” she replied, her laughter ringing out like music.

You decided to join the fun, veering your quad closer to Bucky’s and revving the engine in a sharp burst. He startled slightly, giving you a side-eye glare that quickly softened into something resembling reluctant amusement.

“You too?” he asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. “What is this, ‘Pick on Bucky’ Day?”

“Every day is ‘Pick on Bucky’ Day,” you teasingly shot back with a grin. “You’re just an easy target, old man.”

Not one to back down, Bucky suddenly accelerated, cutting you and Shuri off in one swift motion. “Alright, if that’s how you wanna play,” he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying the smallest hint of a challenge.

What followed was a chaotic race through the trails. The three of you took turns speeding ahead, cutting each other off, and kicking up clouds of dirt. Shuri, ever the daredevil, led you both through a narrow trail with low-hanging branches that forced you to duck and weave to avoid getting smacked in the face.

“You could’ve warned us, Shuri!” you shouted, laughing despite yourself as you narrowly avoided a branch.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she called back, her voice dripping with mischief.

Even Bucky started to loosen up, his posture relaxing as he swerved around a sharp corner with surprising skill. At one point, you caught him grinning—an unguarded, genuine smile that made him look years younger.

Eventually, the path widened, revealing a breathtaking scene. A shimmering lake stretched out before you, its surface reflecting the pastel hues of the early evening sky. Steam rose lazily from parts of the water, hinting at natural hot springs, while rocky cliffs framed the area like an artist’s masterpiece. A few open-air huts dotted the shoreline, their thatched roofs blending harmoniously with the natural surroundings.

Shuri pulled to a stop and hopped off her quad, stretching her arms overhead with a content sigh. “Welcome to paradise!” she announced grandly. “The water here is the perfect remedy for sore muscles—and bruised egos.” She shot a pointed look at Bucky, her grin as wide as ever.

“This is amazing,” you said, your gaze sweeping over the tranquil scene. “Did you plan this, Shuri?”

“Of course I did,” she replied smugly. “You think I’d let you two wander around aimlessly? Now, go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

The lake was even more breathtaking up close. Crystal-clear water stretched out in a shimmering expanse, its surface rippling gently as steam curled upward from the edges of the natural hot springs. The rocky cliffs surrounding the area glistened with dew, the rock faces streaked with veins of vibrant minerals that reflected the fading light like jewels. Overhead, the sky deepened into a tapestry of purples and gold, scattered with stars beginning to peek through. The air here was warm and heavy with the scent of mineral springs and blooming wildflowers, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

A few open-air huts lined the shore, their thatched roofs blending seamlessly with the landscape. Inside, simple benches and woven baskets hinted at their purpose: a place to change or rest before enjoying the rejuvenating waters.

Shuri was already peeling off her outerwear to reveal a sleek bodysuit underneath, the kind of practical yet stylish attire that only Wakandan design could pull off. “Don’t just stand there gawking. The water’s calling, and I’m answering.” She didn’t wait for a response, striding toward the lake and stepping in without hesitation. “Perfect temperature, as always,” she called over her shoulder.

You watched her for a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?” You weren’t exactly prepared for a swim, but that wasn’t going to stop you. Stripping down to your underwear, you stepped into the water, the warmth spreading over your skin like a comforting embrace.

Bucky, however, stayed firmly on the shore, his arms crossed as he eyed the water warily. “I think I’ll sit this one out,” he muttered.

Shuri, already chest-deep in the water, shot him a look of mock disbelief. “What’s the matter, white boy? Afraid your arm’s gonna rust?”

Bucky raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “It’s titanium. It doesn’t rust.”

“Then you have no excuse!” Shuri countered, splashing water in his direction for good measure. “Come on, don’t be boring. Even Grandpa needs to have fun sometimes.”

You laughed, wading deeper into the water until it lapped at your shoulders. “She’s got a point, you know. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll have fun?”

Bucky groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you and Shuri said in unison.

Finally, with a muttered curse under his breath, Bucky relented. He pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing the solid planes of his chest and the intricate design of his titanium arm, which gleamed even in the dim light. He hesitated for a moment before removing his boots and pants, leaving him in just a pair of black briefs.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering over him before quickly looking away, your cheeks heating. Shuri, of course, caught it immediately.

“See something you like, Sparky?” she teased, her grin devilish as she waded closer.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, your attempt at nonchalance failing miserably, though your face betrayed you with its growing warmth.

Shuri wasn’t done, though. She tilted her head, the playful gleam in her eyes making you dread whatever she was about to say next. “Don’t worry about it. I saw him watching you earlier when you were stripping down, too.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes widening. “Shuri!”

“What?” she said with a shrug, her grin widening as she gestured toward Bucky, who was already halfway into the water and thankfully out of earshot. “I’m just saying, you’re not the only one doing some ogling tonight.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Why do you always have to do this?”

“Because it’s fun,” she replied with a wink. “And you’re just so easy to fluster. Besides, I’m practically doing you a favor. Now you know he’s looking.”

You peeked between your fingers, your gaze instinctively darting to Bucky, who was settling into the water. His broad shoulders gleamed under the dim light, and you hated how quickly your eyes lingered.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, sinking lower into the water to hide your embarrassment.

Shuri’s laughter rang out, light and carefree. “You’re welcome!”

Bucky stepped into the water, his movements cautious at first, but he seemed to relax as the warmth enveloped him. “You two are insufferable,” he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smirk betrayed him.

“It doesn’t stop you from following us,” you shot back, splashing water in his direction.

What started as playful banter quickly devolved into a full-blown splash war. Shuri was the obvious instigator, as always, her cunning grin practically a warning sign as she cupped her hands and sent the first wave of water crashing toward you.

“You’re going down, Sparky!” she declared, her laughter echoing over the surface of the lake.

You retaliated immediately, scooping up water and hurling it back at her, though your aim wasn’t nearly as precise. “Oh, you want a fight? Let’s go, Princess!”

Bucky, who had been trying to stay out of the line of fire, quickly found himself dragged into the chaos. A rogue splash hit him square in the face, and he sputtered, shaking his head like a drenched dog.

“Is this what you call diplomacy?” Bucky grumbled as he shielded himself with his arm.

“Wakandan diplomacy is very hands-on,” Shuri replied, her laughter echoing across the lake.

“Alright, that’s it,” he muttered, his voice low and mock-menacing.

The next second, he sent an impressive arc of water flying in Shuri’s direction, catching her mid-laugh and soaking her from head to toe.

“Hey!” she yelped, wiping water from her eyes. “You’re gonna regret that, white boy!”

From that moment on, all bets were off. Shuri was the obvious victor, her technique unmatched as she sent wave after wave of water at you and Bucky. Her speed and agility made her nearly impossible to hit, and her laughter only seemed to grow louder with each successful attack.

You tried teaming up with Bucky to overpower her, but it was like trying to outsmart a hurricane. “We need a strategy!” you shouted, ducking behind Bucky for cover as Shuri sent another splash your way.

“Strategy?” Bucky replied, his brow furrowing in mock disbelief. “We’re in a lake. The only strategy here is survival!”

Shuri, grinning wickedly, used your moment of distraction to launch her most devastating attack yet—a double-handed splash that drenched you both in a massive wave.

“You call that survival?” she teased, her hands on her hips as she waded back a few steps, looking far too smug.

The water glistened around her like liquid silver, the bioluminescent glow of the surrounding foliage casting soft light on her triumphant form. You and Bucky exchanged a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between you.

“Truce?” you whispered.

“Truce,” he agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Together, you turned on Shuri, launching a coordinated attack that finally managed to take her by surprise. She shrieked as two simultaneous waves of water hit her, but her laughter was still loud and carefree.

“Alright, alright! I concede!” she said, holding her hands up in surrender, though the grin on her face made it clear she wasn’t entirely serious. “But don’t think I’ll forget this, you two.”

The three of you stood there, panting and laughing, the water rippling gently around you as the tension of the day melted away into the cool embrace of the lake. It was a quiet haven, the cool water lapping gently at your skin, but Shuri’s excitement quickly shattered the calm.

“Alright, I’m bored now. Let’s play Pirate Ship,” she declared, her eyes shining with mischief. She swam toward you both, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “It’s a team game—just like chicken, but with a twist. One person is the pirate ship, and the other two are the crew with one trying to take it down and one giving it directions.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Pirate ship?”

“Yeah,” Shuri said, her voice full of energy. “It’s simple. Bucky, you’re the pirate ship. You’re the one we have to knock off balance.”

Bucky looked at her with a bemused smile. “I’m the pirate ship, huh? Alright, I’m game.”

Shuri turned to you. “And you’ll be the first crew member, perched on his arm like a lookout. I’m the second crew member, and my job is to throw you both off balance—knock you out of the game.”

Before Bucky could protest, Shuri swiftly lifted you from the water, her hands steady as she helped you onto Bucky’s broad, muscled arm. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his arm for balance, and you felt a rush of warmth at how strong and solid he felt beneath you. The water swirled around both of you, the gentle waves adding an extra challenge as you settled into place, hands gripping his shoulders for extra security.

“There we go,” Shuri smirked, positioning herself in front of the two of you. “Try not to fall off, pirate.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. “I’ll hold my ground. Ready?”

You nodded, gripping Bucky’s shoulder with a steady hand, trying to ignore the flutter of your heart as you realized just how close the two of you were—your body pressed to his in the stillness of the water, your chest lightly brushing against his, and his steady arm holding you firmly in place. You had to concentrate, but your mind kept wandering back to the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers.

Shuri lunged at you first, attempting to knock Bucky off balance. She was quick and agile in the water, and her first attempt sent a shiver of movement through Bucky’s body. But he held strong, his arm steady beneath you, his muscles tightening as he countered her push. You gasped slightly as you leaned into him for support, feeling the strength of his body underneath yours. His hand rested on your knee as he held you in place, his grip firm but gentle, like he was guiding you through a delicate dance.

“Easy there, Buck’,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper, just for him. “You’re doing great.”

Bucky shot you a playful grin, but there was something deeper in his gaze—a quiet intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “I’ve got this,” he muttered, voice low, as he took a step forward, shifting his weight just enough to keep himself balanced.

Shuri’s second attempt was faster, a blur of motion as she surged forward, trying to get a grip on Bucky’s shoulder. You felt your balance teeter as the water surged around you, but Bucky’s hand shot out just in time, pulling you back into place. His fingers brushed against your skin as he steadied you, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“You’re not getting us that easily,” Bucky murmured, his voice surprisingly husky as his eyes flickered down to you, searching your face for any sign that he was doing okay. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, and for a moment, you forgot where you were, lost in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you, the closeness of your bodies, the way he was so careful with you.

But before you could respond, Shuri lunged at him one more time. This time, her strategy was sharper and more aggressive, and Bucky’s arm gave way under the pressure. You lost your balance as Shuri grabbed hold of his shoulder, throwing both of you off-kilter. The next thing you knew, you were slipping from his arm and tumbling backward into the water with a splash.

The cold water shocked your senses for a moment, but before you could even panic, strong arms encircled you, pulling you back to the surface. You found yourself face-to-face with Bucky, his hands steadying you as he kept you afloat. His blue eyes locked onto yours with a quiet intensity, his breath warm against your skin as you both clung to the moment.

“You good, dove?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, the hint of concern there, though you knew he wasn’t worried about anything other than making sure you were okay.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as your heart raced. “Yeah, just… didn’t expect you to catch me like that,” you said, your voice quieter now, as if the game was suddenly secondary to the warmth of his presence.

Bucky’s hand remained on your waist, a steadying anchor as you floated together, the water around you both barely making a sound. He didn’t pull away, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded—the playful banter, the game, the world itself. It was just you and him, suspended in time, your chest brushing lightly against his as you shared a quiet moment in the lake.

Shuri's teasing voice sliced through the comfortable silence that had settled around you and Bucky, her tone playful and laced with mischief. “Aww, isn’t this romantic,” she called from where she bobbed lazily in the water, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she floated a little too close, clearly enjoying the moment a bit too much. “But we should probably head back. Sunrise isn’t going to wait for you lovebirds.”

The spell that had wrapped around you and Bucky shattered in an instant. You felt the weight of the moment break as Shuri’s words brought a flurry of laughter bubbling to the surface. Your cheeks flushed as you tried to gather your bearings, feeling the playful spark of the moment slip away, yet, in a way, you didn’t mind. It was impossible to stay serious when Shuri’s teasing grin was so infectious.

You groaned, letting out a dramatic sigh as you pushed yourself upright in the water. “Let’s go, white boy. Don’t want you rusting after all,” you teased, your voice light but still holding onto the warmth of the moment.

Bucky’s eyes rolled at the nickname, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He turned to you, his blue eyes glinting with a playful challenge. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna call me that too.”

You grinned back, your heart still fluttering from the closeness you’d shared. “Impossible,” you replied with a wink. “I like the sound of it.”

Bucky gave you an exaggerated sigh, his hand reaching up to run through his damp hair as he shook his head. “I swear, I’m surrounded by trouble,” he muttered under his breath, but there was no malice behind his words—just a quiet affection that spoke volumes, even if it was wrapped in sarcasm.

Despite his mock grumbling, he followed your lead, swimming toward the shore. You matched his pace, your muscles still pleasantly sore from the game, but the gentle push of the water made it feel like the whole world was moving in slow motion. The distance between you and Bucky narrowed as you both swam side by side, the warmth of his presence a silent comfort, even with Shuri’s teasing commentary still echoing in the background.

Shuri, of course, didn’t let up. “You two make quite the pair,” she called, paddling along next to you. “I might need to start charging for this level of entertainment.” Her voice was full of laughter, but there was something else there too—an undercurrent of fondness for both of you, as if she was delighted by the connection she could clearly see growing between you and the soldier.

You shot her a playful glare. “Don’t make me make you regret learning how to swim.”

Her grin widened. “What’s the saying the white folks say again? Ah yes, ‘shiver me timbers’.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle beside you, the sound soothing and warm, as if he was finally letting the earlier teasing roll off his shoulders. The smirk he gave you was enough to make your heart skip again, the quiet moment of camaraderie between the three of you filling the air.

As the shoreline grew closer, Bucky’s smirk softened, and his expression turned a little more serious, though not in an uncomfortable way. He gave you a side glance, his voice quieter now, and tinged with something almost shy. “Thanks, by the way,” he said, his tone laced with sincerity. “For, you know, hanging in there with me.”

You blinked, surprised by the soft vulnerability in his words. “Of course, Bucky,” you said, your voice gentle. “You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did you?”

Bucky met your gaze, the softness in his eyes matching the quiet connection you felt. “I wouldn’t put it past you,” he teased lightly, but there was warmth behind it. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

For a moment, you simply floated there, the water still and peaceful around you, the air filled with unspoken understanding. Bucky had always been a complicated puzzle, but right here, right now, it felt like you were finally starting to fit together.

Shuri, ever the interrupter, glanced over at the two of you with a knowing look. “Alright, alright,” she said, pushing herself up from the water as she began heading toward the shore. “You two are sickeningly cute, but seriously, we should get going before we turn into fish.”

Bucky took a look at you, and this time, the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips was genuine, not mocking, but something softer—something real. “Lead the way, little one,” he said with a grin, his voice warm and affectionate as he gestured for Shuri to go ahead.

⠀

The day’s warmth lingered as you and Shuri made your way to the huts nearby, your bodies tired but relaxed from the playful lake game. The sky was beginning to darken, hinting at the coming sunrise, and there was a subtle excitement in the air—soon you’d be heading straight to the palace.

As you reached the hut, you noticed the men’s and women’s changing areas were naturally sex-separate, allowing for a quiet moment of privacy before the more formal events began. You started to step inside your designated hut, but Shuri held you back with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Wait up, Sparky,” she said, her voice dripping with playful curiosity. “We need to talk.”

You raised an eyebrow but followed her inside the small, private space. “About what?”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Shuri replied, giving you a knowing look as she crossed her arms. “I saw the way you and Bucky were looking at each other out there. That moment—the way he held you steady. You two have something going on, don’t you?”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “We’re just friends, Shuri. Nothing more.”

She tilted her head to the side, unconvinced. “Friends, huh?” she said, dragging out the word. “Then why do I sense a little more than that? Hmm? You didn’t look like ‘just friends’ when you were practically on top of him in the water.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

You let out a soft groan, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “Shuri, we’re really just friends. We’ve known each other for a while now.”

Her eyes widened with exaggerated interest. “Oh? Tell me everything. How did this magical friendship start?”

You took a deep breath, trying to focus. “Well, it’s not all that exciting. I first met Bucky during a workout session at the compound—he was just sitting off to the side, hydrating or whatever. I’d been working out with some of the agents, and I was parched, so I grabbed a bottle of water. I didn’t notice him at first, but when I went to leave, I accidentally bumped into him, spilling some of the water on him.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. “I was mortified, but he just laughed it off, saying, ‘You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.’ It was such a small, funny moment, but I remember it so clearly.”

Shuri leaned in, clearly intrigued. “That’s it? That’s how the great Sparky and the white boy became friends?”

You nodded. “Pretty much. But we ended up running into each other again a few months later when we were both assigned to the same mission. It wasn’t planned or anything. Our superiors noticed how naturally we clicked, so after that, they kept putting us together. We just kind of... became friends after that.”

Shuri raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. “Became friends, huh?” She shook her head with a smirk. “There’s something you’re not telling me. The way you two interact is way too comfortable for just a friendship.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “There’s nothing else. Trust me, we’re just close friends who get along well. He’s been through a lot, and I get it. I’m just... here for him. That’s all.”

Shuri didn’t look convinced. She started pacing back and forth, tapping her chin. “Hmm, well, I’m still not buying it. You two have some serious chemistry, whether you admit it or not. You’re telling me that’s all just... friendship?” She exaggerated the word with air quotes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Shuri quickly cut you off. “I won’t let you leave this hut until you spill the tea. You can’t hide behind your ‘just friends’ act forever, Sparky.” She grinned playfully, clearly enjoying herself.

You groaned again, feeling the heat rise to your face. “Fine. There was a... moment, but that’s it. He just... makes me feel comfortable. It’s hard to explain.”

Your cheeks burned at the remembrance of that embarrassing move you’d unconsciously pulled. The kiss to his cheek—it had been a simple, spontaneous act of gratitude, but now, in the quiet of your room, you felt your heart race at the memory.

The day had been long, and you found yourself in your quarters, trying to unwind after an exhausting debrief. As your gaze wandered, it landed on something familiar—an old mechanical wristwatch sitting on your desk. It was an heirloom, passed down through your family, and it had always been a symbol of resilience to you. But recently, it had been failing—stopping intermittently, refusing to tick when it should, and making it clear that it needed repair.

You had tried to fix it yourself, but no luck. You hadn’t wanted to take it to the techs; it was too personal. You’d quietly hoped it might somehow start working on its own, but it never did.

That evening, after dinner, you placed it down on the desk and ran your fingers over its familiar face, as if trying to find some connection to the past. But just as you set it aside, a knock at your door startled you.

Opening it, you were surprised to see Bucky standing there. A tool kit was slung over his shoulder, his usual quiet but determined expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted you with a small, awkward smile. "I—I saw the watch earlier. Thought it might need a little... tune-up."

You blinked, taken aback for a moment. "Bucky? You... know about watches?"

He shrugged slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than a few, yeah. Before... well, before everything happened, I worked on mechanical things. Cars, watches, motorcycles—anything with gears."

You raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You're telling me you're not just a soldier, but a mechanic too?"

He chuckled softly, a slight warmth in his eyes. "Not just. I used to spend a lot of time fixing things. Figured I might be able to help."

You gestured toward the desk, where the watch lay, still as ever. You hadn't realized just how much you'd been staring at it, silently wishing it could work again.

"I didn’t expect you to notice it," you said quietly, moving to pick it up. "But I—I can’t seem to fix it myself."

Bucky stepped inside and set down his tool kit, his movements slow and deliberate as he began working on the watch. His fingers were steady, his focus intense. There was a calmness in the way he worked, similar to how he handled everything else—with precision and care. But this was different. He wasn’t handling a weapon; he was working on something delicate, something important to you.

The rhythmic sound of his hands moving as he adjusted the gears filled the room. You watched him, the quiet and his attention to detail stirring something deeper in you. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, how his fingers moved without hesitation—it wasn’t just about fixing the watch. It was something more.

“How’d you learn to do this?” you asked softly, your voice quieter now, full of curiosity.

“I had to,” he replied, his gaze still fixed on the watch. “In the army, you don’t always have what you need. I learned how to fix whatever I could get my hands on.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. There was something different about the way he spoke—like every skill, every moment he’d lived, had shaped him into who he was now. This wasn’t the Bucky you were used to—the soldier with a shield or the man in battle. This was another side of him, a gentler one, one that didn’t require fighting to prove his worth.

After a few minutes, Bucky stopped working, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a small smile. "All fixed."

You carefully took the watch from his hands and examined it. The hands were moving again, ticking steadily, as if it had never been broken. When you reached to take it, your fingers brushed against his for just a moment, and the world seemed to slow. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze—his blue eyes locked with yours, and there was something in the air, unspoken but understood.

You broke the silence, your voice soft but sincere. "You really didn’t have to," you said, still holding the watch in your hands, its ticking now a steady comfort. "But thank you, James. This means a lot."

Bucky’s gaze softened, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It was nothing. I’m glad I could help."

You stood up, the watch still in your hand, and took a small step toward him. The space between you felt charged now, electric. Without really thinking, you leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his cheek—just a brush of gratitude, but it felt more than that. The gesture lingered longer than you intended.

The moment you pulled away, you realized your mistake. Bucky stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide, and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. For a split second, the room was thick with unspoken tension, and the heat of his gaze made your heart race. You couldn't look at him.

"I—uh—well," he stammered, clearing his throat. "I didn’t expect that."

You quickly regained your composure, your heart still pounding, but your voice steady. "You fixed something important to me. I wanted to show my thanks," you said, though you could feel the rush of warmth on your cheeks. "You’ve done more than I could’ve ever expected."

Bucky’s expression softened, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. He nodded, though he couldn’t quite meet your gaze. "You’re welcome, dove," he said, his voice low. "Anytime."

Your cheeks were still burning, and you quickly opened your arms, pulling him into a quick, grateful hug. It was over in an instant, but his warmth lingered in the space between you. When you pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel the heat of his presence.

"Thank you," you said again, quieter now, more to yourself than to him. "For everything."

Bucky nodded but didn’t speak. His soft smile returned, but there was something else in his eyes—something deeper, like words weren’t enough. He didn’t say anything more as he turned to leave, but as he stepped out, you opened the door and hastily shut it behind him, your heart still pounding in your chest. You leaned against it, eyes closed, feeling the rush of blood in your face and the thick, lingering tension that had settled in your room. You didn’t know what had just happened, but one thing was certain: that kiss had shifted something between you both. And now, you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You shook your head, as if to chase the thought away. Shuri nodded sagely, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I knew it! Something’s going on.” She gave you a dramatic wink. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to admit anything else. But mark my words, Sparky—there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

Before you could say anything else, Shuri clapped her hands together, grabbing your attention. “Now, enough of this. You look like you need something to wear for the palace. I’ve got just the thing.”

You blinked, confused. “The palace? Aren’t we heading there soon?”

Shuri grinned. “Yes, and no offense, but what you were wearing isn’t quite appropriate. You’re heading into Wakandan royal territory, and I’m not going to let you go in looking like a tourist.” She quickly rummaged through a nearby chest, pulling out an intricately designed outfit. “Here, you’ll look stunning in this. It’s cultural, beautiful, and fits with the royal occasion.”

You took a step back, eyeing the garment she handed you. It was a royal Wakandan-style dress, the fabric shimmering with patterns that reflected the country’s rich heritage. The deep blues and golds complemented your skin tone perfectly, and the intricate beadwork along the neckline made it clear that this wasn’t just a casual outfit—it was something special.

“This is beautiful,” you said, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness. “But are you sure I can wear this?”

Shuri shrugged. “Of course. You’re as much a part of this country as anyone. Don’t even think about it. This will be perfect for the palace.”

As you changed into the dress, Shuri stood by, watching you with a playful grin. “You know, I bet Bucky’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in that.”

You shot her a warning look. “Shuri, stop.”

But she was already walking out the door, clearly satisfied with her teasing. “I’ll meet you outside, Sparky. We’ll make an entrance, trust me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you finished getting ready, feeling a strange mix of nervous excitement as you adjusted the dress. Shuri’s antics aside, something about the night ahead felt different. The palace awaited, and you had a feeling that no matter what happened next, things between you and Bucky were going to shift, one way or another.

You stepped outside the hut, feeling the cool air of the evening settle around you as you made your way toward the gathering area. The sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the land, the fading light reflecting off the distant peaks of the mountains. The air was thick with the scent of earth and flowers, the transition from day to night making everything feel a little more magical.

As you reached the edge of the clearing, you spotted Bucky standing there, his back to you. He was dressed in a traditional Wakandan outfit as well—his dark attire highlighted with silver accents, the intricate patterns on his chest and sleeves shimmering under the dying light. The fabric seemed to move with him, like it was alive, giving him an almost regal presence.

Your breath caught in your throat. There was something about the way he looked tonight—so different from the soldier you knew. The colors of his outfit and the strong but gentle lines of his form made him appear like he belonged here, among royalty and tradition. The fading light of the sunset seemed to soften the sharp edges of his usual demeanor, and in that moment, he didn’t look like someone haunted by his past, but rather, someone who had found a place in this world.

He turned as he heard your footsteps, his eyes immediately locking with yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. The setting sun illuminated his features, casting a warm glow across his face, making the familiar blue of his eyes stand out even more.

“You look… great, dove,” he said, his voice low and sincere, his gaze never leaving you.

You felt your heart flutter, the intensity of his words making your cheeks flush. Before you could think of anything to say, Shuri appeared at your side, her grin wide as she observed the exchange. “Told you,” she whispered under her breath, clearly pleased with the effect your appearance had on him.

You swallowed, trying to steady your nerves as you turned toward the palace. The walk ahead felt like a new chapter—one you weren’t sure how it would unfold, but you couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened next, it would change everything. And just as you and Bucky walked together toward the palace, the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted with the soft colors of twilight, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

⠀

The grandeur of Wakanda’s capital was one of the many things that could never fail to take your breath away. Towering structures of gleaming stone and glass rose from the earth, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The skyline shimmered with a blend of advanced technology and rich tradition, a city that harmonized its ancestral heritage with cutting-edge innovation. The air was heavy with the scent of spices and incense, mingling with the hum of machinery that made everything in Wakanda run with such fluid precision.

You couldn’t help but notice the vibrant markings on the faces of the people you passed, intricate designs painted in vivid colors that told stories of their lineage, their roles, and their connection to the land. It was clear that no one here was simply a passerby. Every person had a story, a purpose. The colors marked their identity, their culture, and their pride.

As you entered the palace, the sheer scale of the hall left you speechless. Massive stone columns rose to the ceiling, adorned with vibrant carvings that depicted the history of Wakanda—their ancestors, their battles, and their triumphs. Statues of past rulers and revered warriors stood solemnly along the walls, some holding ceremonial spears, others adorned with colorful beads, each symbolizing a different tribe’s history and honor. In the center of the room, massive holographic displays flickered to life, depicting abstract representations of Wakanda’s values—its strength, its unity, and its future. The air was electric, a seamless blend of tradition and technology.

You could feel the weight of Wakanda's history in every corner of the room. The way the ancient stone floor felt cool beneath your feet, and the vibranium that coursed through the very walls of the palace, pulsing with life. A soft, melodic hum filled the room, as if the palace itself was alive, welcoming all who entered.

The large hall of the palace was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, which streamed through massive windows, casting intricate patterns of light on the stone floors. The air was thick with anticipation, as the people of Wakanda gathered to witness the beginning of a new chapter in the history of their nation. The room was a perfect fusion of old and new: towering statues of past kings and queens stood side by side with holographic displays that shimmered with information, adding a layer of modernity to the ancient stone.

Wakandan warriors, adorned in ceremonial attire, stood at the edges of the room, their bodies marked with vibrant paints and designs that spoke to their clans, their history, and their strength. The designs were no simple decoration—each stroke carried meaning, telling a story of survival, legacy, and honor. The air was thick with the weight of tradition and culture, yet there was an unmistakable hum of technology coursing through the space. It was as if the room itself was alive, blending the spiritual and the technological into a perfect harmony.

In the center of the hall, a large circular platform had been set up, its surface marked with more designs—symbols of unity, power, and transformation. It was here that the ceremony would take place, where the destinies of two outsiders would intertwine with that of Wakanda. The people of Wakanda stood with reverence, waiting in hushed silence, as their king, T'Challa, walked to the front.

T��Challa’s presence commanded the room. The black panther suit that adorned him, regal and imposing, made it clear that he was both a warrior and a king. As he took his place, his eyes scanned the room, filled with pride for his people. He held the wisdom of his ancestors, yet there was a modern sensibility in his leadership. Today, he was not just a monarch; he was a protector of those who had fought for his country, and he was about to welcome new members into that fold.

At his side stood Shuri, her vibrant energy a stark contrast to the quiet strength of her brother. Okoye, standing at attention beside them, watched the crowd with a protective gaze, while M'Baku’s massive form loomed at the far side of the hall, his powerful presence impossible to miss.

And then, seated on a throne of gold and ebony, was the Queen Mother—Ramonda. Her regal presence exuded wisdom and compassion, a mother’s strength tempered by years of experience. She was a queen not just by birth, but by the force of her will, her calm demeanor a guiding light for the nation. Her eyes, sharp yet filled with warmth, scanned the crowd, but when they landed on you and Bucky, there was a spark of something deeper—a recognition of the weight of their journey, and the transformation that lay ahead.

Flanking her were several elders and respected leaders of Wakanda, each dressed in ceremonial garb and bearing the weight of their wisdom and responsibility. Shuri stood at your side, her grin wide as she observed the ceremony. She had been teasing you and Bucky ever since you’d arrived, her excitement palpable, but now, even she seemed to hold a reverence for what was about to take place.

The Queen’s gaze shifted between you and Bucky, her expression unreadable, before she spoke, her voice resonating like a deep, soothing melody. “Welcome to the heart of Wakanda, White Wolf, and Silver Fox.”

The words hit you both like a wave.

The ceremony began slowly, with the sound of a drumbeat filling the air, its rhythmic thumping echoing through the hall. The drummers, positioned at the back of the room, beat in time with the energy building in the space. Their rhythm matched the heartbeat of Wakanda itself, steady and unwavering.

As the drumbeats echoed, the elder who had been tasked with guiding the ceremony stepped forward, holding a sacred artifact—an intricately carved bowl, filled with a shimmering powder that seemed to catch the light. The elder held the bowl high, and the people of Wakanda rose in unison, chanting softly in a language older than time itself. The chants reverberated throughout the hall, weaving a sense of unity among everyone present.

T'Challa's voice broke through the chants, strong and steady. "Today, we gather not just to honor two individuals, but to witness the transformation of the past into the future." His words were simple, but they carried the weight of history. "James Buchanan Barnes, you stand before us, not as a man shackled by your past, but as a hero who has chosen to fight for the future."

Bucky, standing tall beside you, felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon him. His expression was resolute, though his hands clenched slightly at his sides. He had come a long way from the man he had once been—the Winter Soldier, lost to Hydra’s control—but now, surrounded by the people of Wakanda, he stood as a new man, a free man.

An elder approached Bucky with a pendant in the shape of a wolf’s head, crafted from the finest Vibranium. The pendant shimmered in the light, catching the glow of the surrounding candles. It was a symbol of his rebirth, his transformation into the White Wolf, the protector of Wakanda, and a man who had reclaimed his humanity.

As the elder placed the pendant around Bucky’s neck, he spoke softly but powerfully. "We welcome you into our legacy, White Wolf. This pendant, forged from Vibranium, will be your guide. It will protect you, strengthen you, and remind you of the path you have chosen. With this symbol, you become not only a part of Wakanda’s legacy, but a part of its future."

The elder then applied ceremonial markings, bright red and gold, to Bucky’s metal arm. Each stroke was precise and deliberate, representing his journey, his struggle, and his victory. The markings were a blend of art and function, combining ancient tradition with the advanced technology of Wakanda. The Vibranium in his arm shimmered with new energy, reflecting the changes that had taken place within him. The pendant and the markings on his arm connected him not just to the country, but to the people, grounding him in his new identity as the White Wolf.

When the ceremony for Bucky concluded, the elder moved to you, and the room’s energy shifted. Your heart raced in your chest as you felt the weight of the moment. The people’s eyes were now on you, waiting, watching. T'Challa’s gaze, though warm and respectful, carried the strength of a king. There was no denying that your journey had been just as profound, if not more so.

The elder, holding a beautiful bracelet crafted from Vibranium, stepped forward. They called your full name in a solemn tone, "Your resilience, your strength, and your unwavering commitment to healing are a testament to the power of the human spirit. You have fought for your freedom, for your people, and for those you hold dear. Today, we honor you as one of ours, Silver Fox."

The elder gently placed the bracelet on your wrist, the Vibranium glowing faintly under the light, as if responding to your very presence. The designs on the bracelet mirrored the ones etched into Bucky’s pendant—symbols of strength, transformation, and unity.

"As this bracelet binds you to Wakanda," the elder continued, "so do your actions bind us all to a future of hope and healing. You are now a part of this land, and this land is now a part of you. You, too, have earned your place in Wakanda’s future."

You bowed your head in gratitude, humbled by the honor bestowed upon you. The people of Wakanda stood once again, this time not only recognizing Bucky’s bravery but acknowledging your strength and resilience.

T'Challa then stepped forward, his voice firm and resolute as he addressed the room. "Today, we honor those who have shown us what it means to fight for something greater than ourselves. Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, and [Y/N] [L/N], the Silver Fox. You have proven yourselves worthy of our respect, and of our future." His eyes flicked to you both, and there was something in his gaze that spoke of the trials ahead, but also of the hope that lay within them.

The Queen Mother, Ramonda, rose from her throne, her presence commanding the room’s attention. She was dressed in an elegant yet powerful gown of deep green and gold, the fabric flowing like a river of life, and her crown glinted with the subtle beauty of Vibranium inlay. Her eyes, filled with the wisdom of ages, fell on you both, and you felt the weight of her gaze, a mix of authority and nurturing kindness.

"Your journeys are not your own," Queen Ramonda’s voice rang out, deep and steady. "You stand here today not only for yourselves, but for the generations that will come after you. The strength you’ve shown, the resilience you've demonstrated, is a gift to Wakanda. And so, we recognize you—not just as individuals, but as part of our family, part of the legacy of this great land."

With her words, you felt something deep within you stir—a connection not just to Wakanda, but to a greater purpose. She smiled gently at both you and Bucky before turning back to the assembly. "It is my honor to welcome you both, [Y/N] and Bucky, into the heart of Wakanda. You are family now, and we will stand together, as one."

As the ceremony came to a close, Shuri flashed you a wide grin. "Told you it would be unforgettable," she said, stepping forward with an impish smile. Okoye, ever the protector, nodded approvingly, and even M'Baku gave a brief but respectful nod in your direction.

The air hummed with pride, unity, and the undeniable sense that this was only the beginning of something much larger. The ceremony had concluded, but the festivities were only just beginning. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the grand hall was transformed into a vibrant celebration of life, culture, and unity. Candles flickered in every corner, casting a warm glow over the room, while musicians began to play a lively rhythm on drums, flutes, and other traditional instruments. The sound of the drums reverberated in your chest, a deep, powerful beat that seemed to carry the very spirit of Wakanda.

You stood near the edge of the hall, still processing the significance of the ceremony and the honor bestowed upon you. The weight of the Vibranium bracelet on your wrist was a constant reminder of the new chapter in your life. But for now, the room buzzed with the energy of celebration. Laughter and chatter filled the air as people from all walks of life came together to rejoice in the moment.

Bucky, standing beside you, was visibly more relaxed now, a small smile on his face as he looked around the room. His hands were still touching the pendant around his neck, the wolf’s head symbol of his new identity. You could see that the ceremony had meant a great deal to him—this was more than just a formality; it was a true rebirth for him.

“Do you know how to dance?” you asked, nudging him playfully.

Bucky chuckled softly, looking at the dancers in the center of the room. “I’d like to think so but it’s been a little over fifty years since I’ve done some, so don’t expect much,” he replied with a grin. “But I think I could manage, with a little help.”

Before you could respond, a burst of laughter rang out behind you. Shuri had bounded over, her excitement infectious. She had already shed her ceremonial attire and was now in a more casual outfit, her vibrant energy still radiating from her. “Come, Silver Fox, don’t just stand there!” she called. “Join us! It’s time to dance!”

You hesitated, but Shuri grabbed your hand, pulling you into the center of the room. The music grew louder, faster, and the rhythm was infectious. The Wakandan dancers, moving gracefully in perfect harmony, invited you to join in. You couldn’t help but smile at the warmth of the moment, the energy of the people around you making it hard to stay still.

Shuri spun around with ease, and for a moment, you lost yourself in the beat, the swirl of vibrant colors, and the ancient movements. The dance wasn’t just about rhythm—it was a celebration of culture, a connection to the land, and a testament to Wakanda’s resilience. Each step was a piece of history, passed down from generation to generation, and you could feel the weight of it all in every motion.

During the dance, you caught a glimpse of T'Challa and Queen Ramonda standing nearby, both watching the celebration with approving smiles. T'Challa, his posture regal and composed, caught your eye and gave you a small nod, his expression warm. Queen Ramonda stood beside him, her presence as commanding as ever, but her face was soft as she watched the joy unfolding around her. Okoye stood off to the side, watching over everyone with a watchful gaze, her arms crossed over her chest but a small smile tugging at her lips. Even M'Baku, usually so stoic and serious, was tapping his foot to the beat, a twinkle of enjoyment in his eyes.

Shuri, not one to be outdone, suddenly appeared in front of you, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’re doing well, Sparky,” she said, before twirling around and laughing. “But I bet I could teach you a thing or two.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Princess?”

Shuri grinned devilishly. “Oh, you bet it is.” She spun once more before turning to Bucky with a playful look. “Hey, White Wolf! You’ve got nothing on me.”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of his new title. “You know,” he said with a hint of amusement, “I think I preferred ‘White Boy.’”

Shuri paused, a mock gasp escaping her lips. “Mother, do you hear this? He’s insulting his own nickname!” she exclaimed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “White Wolf is majestic, regal, a perfect representation of his new identity. White Boy? What is this, a beach vacation?”

Queen Ramonda, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smile, let out a soft chuckle. “Shuri, dear, you are always so dramatic,” she said, her tone affectionate but firm. “Perhaps White Wolf has more gravitas, but White Boy has its charm. There’s no harm in both.”

Shuri huffed, but there was no real anger in her tone. “I’ll have to get used to it, I suppose. But mark my words, Mother—White Boy had a much better ring to it. It's simple and to the point.”

T'Challa, who had been listening to the exchange, chuckled softly. "Let us leave the nicknames to Shuri, shall we? As long as it brings honor to the warrior, that is all that matters." His voice carried an amused but gentle authority.

The conversation shifted to lighter matters as Shuri and T'Challa continued to banter back and forth, with Queen Ramonda watching over them, her serene smile never faltering. The warmth between the family was palpable, a testament to their unity and shared history. Even Okoye, who typically kept her distance from casual conversations, seemed to relax a little, her lips quirking up at the sight of the playful exchanges.

The music swirled around you as the dancing continued, and for a moment, everything seemed to blur into a whirl of color and rhythm. You found yourself moving with the flow of the crowd, caught up in the energy of it all. But even amidst the revelry, your eyes kept drifting back to Bucky.

He was standing a little off to the side now, watching the dancers with a small, amused smile on his face. His usual guarded demeanor had melted away in the warmth of the celebration, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying the moment, despite his earlier hesitations about dancing.

You caught his eye and, with a playful grin, motioned for him to join you. “Come on, White Wolf,” you teased, using his new title with a grin. “You’re just standing there. Time to show off those moves.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “I told you, I’m rusty in my moves.”

“No excuses,” you countered, pulling him gently into the center of the room, where the dancers had formed a loose circle. You had no idea what you were doing, but that didn’t matter. The important part was being together, in the moment. “If I can do it, you can too.”

He laughed, but the sound was warm, genuine. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone soft and amused. “You’ve got me.”

With a deep breath, he tried to mimic some of the movements you were making, his arms stiff at first, his steps slightly offbeat. But something was endearing about his attempts—he wasn’t exactly graceful, but his effort was enough to make you smile. You found yourself laughing along with him, not in mockery, but in genuine joy.

“Not bad, not bad,” you said, teasing him as you twirled away from him before pulling him back. “You just need a little more flair.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Flair? I thought we were just supposed to move to the beat.”

“Moving to the beat with flair is a whole different level,” you said, laughing again. You grabbed his hand, leading him into a spin that ended with you both standing close together. His breath caught for a moment, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked down at you, his eyes soft.

Bucky’s smile softened, his blue eyes locking with yours. “Hey, I’m—uh, I’m glad I am here. With you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit breathless. You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering just a moment longer. “I’m glad, too.”

As you moved together in the dance, a perfect balance of lightheartedness and closeness, everything else seemed to fade away. The music, the laughter, the people around you—none of it mattered. At that moment, there was only the two of you. No past, no struggles. Just the here and now.

Bucky chuckled softly, breaking the silence between you two with a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I think I’m starting to remember this whole dancing thing. Might have to make it a regular occurrence.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise to keep improving.”

He smirked. “Deal. But only if you promise to keep dragging me onto the dance floor every time.”

With a laugh, you leaned in just slightly, your face a little closer to his than it had been before. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The music swirled on, and it felt like the world had slowed down just for you two. As you both continued to dance, laughter and warmth filling the space between you, there was a simple, undeniable truth—you were exactly where you were meant to be. Together.

⠀

After a long and eventful evening, you found yourself in the quiet of your apartment, the warm evening air of June drifting in through the open balcony doors. The sounds of the city—distant chatter, the hum of cars, and the occasional burst of laughter—filled the background, soothing in its familiarity. You were curled up on one of the loveseats facing the starry night, a book in your lap and a plate of strawberry-covered chocolates within arm’s reach. The soft light from the moon illuminated the pages of your book, but you found your mind drifting more to the stars than to the words.

You heard the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the soft thud of footsteps. Looking up, you saw Bucky standing there in the doorway, his dark hair still slightly damp from his shower. He wore a simple pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt—his version of pajamas, just as casual and comfortable as yours. His gaze softened as he spotted you, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest.

“Hey, Silver Fox, you planning on eating all those by yourself?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in playful accusation as he crossed the room toward you.

You grinned, raising the plate slightly. “I might. They’re too good to share.”

Bucky chuckled, taking a seat next to you, his gaze flicking to the plate of chocolates. “Strawberries, huh? You know, if you keep eating those, you might turn into one.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I could think of worse things.” You reached for one and popped it into your mouth, savoring the sweet, decadent taste. “Want one?”

He hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Why not?” He reached for one of the chocolates, biting into it with a smile. “Guess I can’t resist.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the night, the only sound being the rustling of the pages of your book and the occasional crunch of chocolate. Bucky seemed to be content just being there with you, as if this simple moment of normalcy was something he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Do you ever think about what we’ve been through?” you asked after a while, your voice soft but steady. You didn’t look at him immediately, but you felt his attention shift as he processed the question.

Bucky let out a long breath, his gaze drifting to the stars. “All the time,” he said quietly. “Some days it feels like I can’t escape it… like I’m still trapped in that past. Like it’s following me.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the weight of his words. You’d been there, in that same mental prison. “It’s hard,” you said, your voice low. “I spent so many years running from my past, trying to forget what I was made to do. But you know what? You’re not defined by what happened to you. You’re defined by what you do now. Who you choose to be now.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked toward you, searching your face as if trying to read the sincerity in your words. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep moving forward some days,” he said, his voice tight with a rawness you hadn’t heard from him before.

“You are,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “You’ve already taken the hardest step—admitting that you need help, that you want to change. That’s the hardest part. The rest will come with time. You’re not that man anymore. You’re the White Wolf. You’re… you.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, it was like the weight on his shoulders lifted just slightly. He let out a breath, glancing down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. “I never thought I’d get a title like that,” he said with a small chuckle. “I mean, who would have thought Bucky Barnes, a guy who can’t even remember most of his own life, would end up with a ceremony and a nickname like that?”

You smiled, leaning back into the cushions. “I think it suits you,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “I think White Boy was a little more fitting, though.”

Bucky laughed at that, a deep, throaty laugh that seemed to ease the tension between you both. “Maybe I should’ve kept that one,” he said, his voice still full of humor. “At least I wouldn’t have to deal with the whole... 'ceremonial' aspect of it. Steve would've been proud.”

“Yeah, well,” you shot him a sly grin, “Steve would have been proud, but you know, he never could resist calling you ‘Buck.’ Not that he ever had much room to talk with his Cap persona.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically. “I swear, that man and his shield. Always had to remind everyone of his title. I never needed a title to know who I was. I remember him being all tiny and as thin as a twig.”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. “You’re right. You were always the guy who saved his ass in a fight, and he gets all the credit.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He let out a small laugh too, leaning back slightly and stretching. “But hey, it’s Steve. He’s got that whole ‘leader’ thing going on.”

Your smile faded a little as you watched the stars, your thoughts turning inward for a moment. “It’s not easy to forget, though,” you murmured. “The things they made us do.”

Bucky gave you a knowing look. “I know. But we’re not defined by what we were forced to do. We’re defined by what we’re doing now.”

You nodded, appreciating his words. “It’s funny, though. Everyone thinks they know you from what they’ve seen on the surface. But they don’t know everything. No one knows what it’s really like to survive what we did.”

He turned his gaze toward you. “Yeah? So, what was it like for you? I never really got the full story.”

You let out a breath, leaning back into the cushions, letting the weight of the question settle over you for a moment before answering. “I got trafficked to Southeast Asia when I was really young by an extremist group. They took kids like me and put us in a concentration camp, training us to fight. To become soldiers. It was like the Hunger Games. We weren’t seen as children. Just tools, you know?”

Bucky’s face softened, his eyes filled with sorrow and a silent understanding that only someone who had been through something similar could truly grasp. “Jesus. How did you… survive all that?”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, the memories still painful, even after all this time. “I was fifteen when S.H.I.E.L.D. rescued me. They raided the compound, took me in. But it wasn’t easy. For years, I had flashbacks, panic attacks. I could barely trust anyone, let alone let them help me.” You paused, letting the weight of your past hang in the air for a moment. "But S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t treat me like a broken weapon. They saw me as someone who could heal. They got me therapy, helped me recover. I trained as an agent, but I wasn’t just a soldier anymore. I was... something more. I spent years figuring out who I was again. I’m still figuring it out."

Bucky’s eyes softened even more. “So you’ve also been through hell.”

You nodded, locking eyes with him. “I have. But I’m here now. And I’m not that soldier anymore. Just like you, James. We’ve both come a long way.”

Bucky sat back for a moment, his eyes staring off into the distance as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, as if he were comparing your journey to his own, seeing the parallels in your stories. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it was filled with mutual understanding, shared pain, and healing.

Finally, his voice came low and sincere, with a weight that carried more meaning than you expected. “I get it now,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked at you, like he was seeing you in a new light. “I always thought I was the only one who went through that. That no one could possibly understand the kind of hell I went through. But you... you went through something just as brutal. And you made it out. Not just made it out—healed. That’s… that’s something. It takes real strength to do what you did. To come back from all of that and still keep your humanity.”

You felt your heart tighten at his words, but there was no sadness in them. Instead, it was admiration. Respect. You hadn’t realized just how much of an impact your story had on him until that moment, until you saw the understanding in his eyes.

“James, you’re not broken. You’re not the man they tried to make you into,” you said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his. “Neither of us are. What we went through, it doesn’t define us. It’s who we are now, who we choose to be going forward.”

Bucky stared at your hand for a moment, then met your gaze again, his eyes wide with something between awe and gratitude. “I don’t know if I could’ve gotten through it without you, dove,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're the one who showed me it was possible to heal, to still be something good after everything. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m… I’m starting to believe that I can too.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you squeezed his hand gently. “You already are, Buck’. You’re already healing. You just need to believe it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet was comfortable, not awkward, as Bucky’s words seemed to settle into your chest, a warm weight that felt like something shifting inside both of you. He understood now. He saw the strength in you, the same strength that had once seemed impossible to find in himself.

Then, with a small, almost hesitant smile, Bucky spoke again. “And to think, I thought I’d be the experiment and teach you how to get through all of this.”

You smiled softly at that. “You’re a work in progress, Barnes. But you’re getting there.”

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, dove.”

You laughed, nudging him again. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Bucky laughed, but it was a lighter sound, the weight of the conversation lifting a little. He leaned back against the armrest, still holding your hand, but this time, it felt different. Less like a lifeline and more like an understanding, a bond between two people who had walked similar dark paths and were finally finding their way into the light.

The quiet between you grew, not awkward, but warm and heavy with unspoken emotions. The soft hum of the city below seemed distant, a background melody to the quiet connection you shared. Reaching for a chocolate-covered strawberry on the plate between you, you held it up, your smile turning playful.

“You know,” you began, studying the glossy chocolate coating, “this kind of reminds me of life. The strawberry is the tough stuff—the tangy, bitter parts you have to get through. And the chocolate?” You grinned. “That’s the healing. The sweetness that makes all the hard stuff worth it.”

Bucky raised a brow, leaning slightly closer. “So what you’re saying is, we’re both just strawberries trying to coat ourselves in chocolate?” His lips curved into a lopsided smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable.

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Not exactly what I meant, but sure. If that helps you sleep at night.”

Before you could take a bite, his metal hand reached out, swift but deliberate, and plucked the strawberry from your fingers. His smirk widened as he held it up to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate bite. His eyes never left yours as he chewed, and there was something almost maddening about the mischievous twinkle in his gaze.

“Hey!” you protested, feigning offense as you leaned forward. “That was mine.”

He shrugged, holding out the remaining half toward you with an innocent tilt of his head. “Sharing is caring, dove.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but despite your mock irritation, a smile tugged at your lips. Leaning closer, you took a careful bite, the rich sweetness of the chocolate blending with the tartness of the strawberry on your tongue. You leaned back with a satisfied hum, but before you could savor it fully, Bucky’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’ve got some chocolate,” he murmured, his tone softer now, almost tender.

You blinked as he reached out, his metal thumb brushing the corner of your lip with a featherlight touch. The sensation was fleeting, yet it sent a small shiver down your spine. Then, before you could react, he brought his thumb to his lips, licking away the smudge of chocolate with a casual ease that left your heart pounding.

“Not bad,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a small smirk, as though entirely unaware of the effect he was having on you.

You swallowed hard, your thoughts scrambling for something witty to say, but the words caught in your throat as Bucky’s gaze softened. He leaned in slightly, his movements slow and deliberate, his attention flicking between your eyes and your lips.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, his voice low and careful, as though he was afraid of breaking the moment.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

His lips brushed against yours with a hesitance that made your heart flutter, as though he were trying to pour every unspoken word, every unacknowledged feeling, into that single, delicate moment. There was a warmth to his touch, not just physical but something deeper—a quiet reverence that made you feel seen, understood in a way you hadn’t expected. His lips were soft, yet there was a firmness in the way he pressed them against yours, as if he were grounding himself at the moment, testing its reality.

It wasn’t hurried, not the kind of kiss borne out of passion or desperation, but one that carried weight, and sincerity. He kissed you with an almost fragile hope, like he was afraid that pushing too hard might shatter whatever fragile thread had brought you both here. His breath mingled with yours, faint and steady, a subtle reminder of how close you were.

Your hand drifted to his shoulder, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to him, to this moment. His shoulder felt solid beneath your touch, a quiet reassurance of his presence. You leaned in, tilting your head slightly to deepen the connection, mirroring his pace. The sweetness of the chocolate and the faint tang of the strawberry lingered between you, blending with the warmth of his kiss and creating a sensory memory you knew you wouldn’t forget.

His hand—flesh, not metal—came to rest lightly on your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers curled slightly, cradling your face as though you were something precious, something worth holding onto. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a conversation without words, an exchange of trust, of vulnerability.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He lingered close, his lips barely grazing yours as his breath warmed your skin. His forehead dipped to rest lightly against yours, his eyes still closed as if he were savoring the moment, reluctant to let it end. You stayed there for a moment, the world around you fading into nothing but the soft sound of your breaths and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, perfectly in sync.

When he finally opened his eyes, the blue of his gaze was deeper, softer, filled with an emotion you could barely put into words. He looked at you like you were something sacred, something that had started to piece together parts of himself he hadn’t realized were broken.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing against his arm. “You okay?” you asked, your voice gentle, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips curving into a shy smile. “More than okay.”

His hand lingered on your jaw for a moment longer, his thumb tracing the faintest line along your cheek before he pulled it away, his gaze never leaving yours. You weren’t sure what would come next, but for now, this was enough. This was everything.

“You’ve got a weird way of sharing strawberries,” you teased softly, your voice barely above a whisper, though it carried a warmth that matched the steady thrum in your chest.

Bucky let out a chuckle, his lips quirking into a shy smile. “Yeah, well, you’ve got a weird way of making metaphors. I think we’re even.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of the past seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet promise of what could come next.

PART ONE. l NEXT PART.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler — @zyra-7 .

⠀⠀

dividers ©️ @cafekitsune .

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crimson-femme · 2 months ago

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𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜

butchfemme media masterpost

NOTE: non-sexual nudity and suggestive images/text (although rarely posted) is not tagged

୨୧ art

୨୧ ask

୨୧ bars and clubs - le monocle ⋆ mona's 440

୨୧ books - the femme mystique ⋆ boots of leather slippers of gold ⋆ the persistent desire: a femme-butch reader ⋆ the little butch book ⋆ persistence: all ways butch and femme ⋆ the drag king book ⋆ the femme's guide to the universe

୨୧ decades - 1900s ⋆ 1910s ⋆ 1920s ⋆ 1930s ⋆ 1940s ⋆ 1950s ⋆ 1960s ⋆ 1970s ⋆ 1980s ⋆ 1990s ⋆ 2000s ⋆ 2010s ⋆ 2020s

୨୧ drag king

୨୧ dykes on bikes

୨୧ favorites

୨୧ femmespo

୨୧ film/tv - bound ⋆ if these walls could talk 2 ⋆ before stonewall

୨୧ flickr finds

୨୧ gif

୨୧ history

୨୧ jewish lesbians

୨୧ magazines - on our backs ⋆ lesbians on the loose ⋆ curve magazine

୨୧ marriage

୨୧ people - k.d. lang ⋆ stormé delarverie ⋆ gluck ⋆ ivan coyote

୨୧ photographers - chloe sherman ⋆ debbie boud ⋆ phyllis christopher ⋆ del lagrace volcano ⋆ syd london

୨୧ vintage lesbians

୨୧ words ⋆ my words

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jyeshindra · 1 year ago

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Astrology Basics

I had a brain blast and decided to break down what all of the planets mean in tropical astrology. I try to use one word that I feel applies to the planet the most and let that be the guide, then a metaphor example to further explain the signification.

SUN: your ability to grow as a person (and what you grow into)

AUTHORITY. relating to personal power, authority, self expression, and independence. if you were King, how would you rule? where would you rule? what’s a priority to you? where was your personal power found?

MOON: your emotional nature, your perspective, your mind.

INSTINCT. Moon comes naturally to you. What were drawn towards, who we are drawn towards, what experiences we create naturally for ourselves. Moon is felt. Moon is experienced.

Moon is the mother, so it's a tender position. It feels true and can be a source of incredible strength. It represents nurturing and our needs as humans.

ASCENDANT: your physical body, central theme of your life

PHYSICS, but in this case we study YOUR motion through time and space!

how that motion impacts other people

what YOU pursue and HOW (chart ruler)

MERCURY: communication style, what the mind will be drawn to. interests and hobbies. mental processing.

INTELLECT, the mental powers and capabilities of a person.

developed through information, listening, exploring interests, communicating.

you witness the intellect in communication.

Do you listen more than you talk? What do you talk about? What captivates your mind?

VENUS: Relationship style. how you are with romance and intimate partners. your personal sense of beauty/values. your “perfume”. what pleases you

BEAUTY, a combination of qualities that pleases the senses.

Related to our earthly experiences, our pleasure driven functions.

Your quality of beauty, what you find beautiful, who you find beautiful, what pleases you, who pleases you.

MARS: Commanding style. personal sense of ambition, passion, anger, excitement. sexual personality. driving force.

how would you drive a car? are you blasting music? are you smoking? are you playing hymnals? what about road rage? where are you going?

Mars in Taurus might be taking their time, enjoying the scenery. There may be air fresheners in the car and snacks. They're headed to a brunch or to a hair appointment. Mars in Sagittarius is probably on a bike and on their way to go hiking!

SEXUAL, not necessarily pertaining to sex. Think of it more as a matter of instincts, passion, and pursuing that which we are drawn to. How is your passion expressed? How is it expressed within an intimate contact? How does it drive you towards your ambitions? How does your body perform the work?

These next planets have more of an external influence on our persons.

JUPITER: where you find blessings, where you are lucky. where your god-given talents and abilities manifest. your sense of spirituality and faith.

ABUNDANCE. Where we experience abundance we can have a sense of spirituality/faith around it. Jupiter in 4H may receive much through the family or through the mother and have a very faith-based relationship with them. Jupiter in the 3H may have a natural gift for speaking and writing. These are the gifts that bring them abundance and blessings. Jupiter in the 5H Libra may have a lot of faith in their children. They may believe in fighting for children's rights or defending children.

SATURN: where you encounter restrictions/limitations. where you need more structure and patience. where some of your deepest fears lie. karma in the form of tests.

THE SUMMIT/GAUNTLET. Saturn is the mountain we have to climb and it may take a while. Gauntlet also works as a good metaphor too, as Saturn can feel like a series of trials and tests, each one more difficult than the last. However the bounty that awaits you? Mastery, competence, and maturity. Saturn has a sobering effect, like the air on top of the mountain. It's clear and crisp.'

And sometimes those trials we face feel familiar. We encounter people from our current past, souls from past lives, circumstances we did not master in previous incarnations. It can feel ancient.

URANUS: where the LIGHTNING strikes

innovation and insight and ingenuity

where you tend to rebel

where sudden changes and upheavals will come

your innovative spark, if uranus is the lightning bolt of inspiration you are the conduit. what you produce is what makes you “unique”

NEPTUNE: where the MIST sets in

where you face a lot of deception, mystery, and confusion.

where a sense of magic dwells. the inexplicable

where your “dream” lives

where you connect to something greater

PLUTO: where POWER and TRANSFORMATION lie

here you must go into the underworld and take what is yours

where you’ve lost power, where you feel out of control, where you feel TOO powerful. power struggles in general

how and where you evolve

where you may endure trauma, loss, and change

South Node: past life patterns, area of former mastery, what you’re used to. where you may suffer loss or become detached. the point through which you find spiritual liberation

North Node: you feel a pull in this direction, “destiny coded”. where you can become obsessed and lost. where you may create something entirely new for yourself. another point of spiritual liberation and detachment.

Just from knowing Rahu (NN) and Ketu (SN) in Vedic, I believe that we must find a balance between South and North nodes and develop conscious awareness of the pulls from both nodes, lest we be swallowed whole.

BONUS ASTEROIDS:

CHIRON: Childhood wounds, trauma endured when young. where a great bit of healing will be done in your life. you learn to live with this and the lessons associated will be your gift to share.

LILITH: how you’ve been outcasted. where you feel shame. you rebel at all costs here and may lose favors because of it. another aspect of sexual personality

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liyliths · 11 months ago

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౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

summary: your first few weeks in your new town, hawkins, are honestly anything but normal. you quickly find yourself caught between making new friends and keeping your distance, all while dodging the king of douchebags, steve harrington, and his clumsy attempts to get to know you, all on your first day. and, with a cherry on top, a strange figure in the woods makes you question if hawkins has a wildlife problem—or something much stranger. spoiler alert: it's not just deer.

“I’m throwing a party at my house this Friday. Food, drinks, pool, no parents, all the fun stuff. I wanted to invite you… it could be good for you, meeting new people and all!” Steve raised his eyebrows in that signature way of his, the one that usually made it hard for people to say no to. Y/N turned to look at the boy, her eyes narrowing with a hint of defiance in them. She deliberately reached into her back pocket to play her music again, looking forward to the parking lot—completely unbothered. “---Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te-da Just like that” “Jesus, this girl’s got a stick up her butt.” Steve thought to himself.

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: cursing, steve's horrible friends, otherwise none!

word count: 4.1k

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 “Uptown girl She’s been living in her uptown world I bet she’s never had a backstreet guy”

Music blared through a girl’s headphones as she made her way onto the campus of Hawkins High. Different voices strung through the air as she walked through the chaotic parking lot, with some students parking their cars and others being dropped off by parents. It was lively, with skateboarders tipping their boards and walking into school, bikers putting their bikes in the designated rack, while others got off the yellow school buses, making their way onto campus.

The girl clutched her school books to her chest, walking toward the main entrance to meet her campus guide. Her hair was styled in a voluminous fringe, wearing a white top paired with blue jeans, and a brown belt to add color.

“I bet her momma never told her why I’m gonna try for an uptown girl She’s been living in her white-bred world”

“Are you Y/N Smith?” A soft voice sounded faintly through the sound of music, coming from a girl with glasses and a short light red hairdo. Y/N glanced over to the girl and paused her Walkman, taking her headphones off and putting her attention on the girl.

“Sorry?”

“You’re Y/N Smith, right?” The girl repeated herself, looking at Y/N before looking down at her clipboard. She had a friendly demeanor, but didn’t quite seem the popular type.

“Yes,” The girl nodded. “And you are?”

“Barbra Holland, but you can just call me Barb. I’ll be showing you around.” The sweet girl smiled.

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N offered a tentative smile.

𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐰 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

As the lunch bell rang signaling the midpoint of Y/N’s first day at Hawkins High, she found herself navigating the bustling cafeteria. The girl was on the search for her guide from this morning, hoping she could sit with her instead of being a loner, not wanting to sit by herself. Or even worse—eat in the bathroom stalls, which was usually where she found herself at a new school.

The cafeteria smelt of hamburger mixed with other scents, alive with chatter and laughter, with students jostling for seats and trays laden with food. Other students were in line for lunch while some found their seats with their friends, the cafeteria growing louder with conversation by the second.

As Y/N spotted the girl who showed her around school earlier in the day, Barb, she made her way over to her table. She noticed she was sitting with another girl with mid-length brown hair. It was styled in a half-do, with a pretty flowery top and skirt, making her look neat and put together.

Summoning her courage, Y/N made the final approach to their table, a tentative smile on her lips. Barb and her friend looked up, their expressions warm and welcoming as they gestured for the girl to join them.

“Hey Y/N, glad you found me. Would you like to sit with us?” Barb smiled at the girl, inviting her before she even had to ask.

Grateful for their invitation, Y/N nodded and took a seat across from Barb and her friend. “I’m Nancy, it’s nice to meet you.” Barb’s friend introduced herself, reaching out her hand to shake the girl’s.

“I’m Y/N, thanks for letting me sit with you guys.”

As Y/N settled in and quietly listened in on the girl’s conversations, she couldn't help but feel a pang of self-doubt creeping in. They’re probably just letting her sit by them to be nice, they’ll push her away eventually if she doesn’t herself.

What’s the point of getting close to anyone right now?

Putting aside her doubts, Y/N hesitantly joined the conversation, listening intently as Nancy and Barb chatted animatedly about their classes and upcoming plans. They were warm and inclusive, making Y/N feel more at ease in their presence.

“Y/N, how are you liking Hawkins High so far? We don't usually get very many new students,” Nancy questioned, observing the new girl.

“It’s been okay, definitely different than what I’m used to. Thanks to Barb, I’ve found my way around alright.” Y/N politely smiled, fidgeting with her fork.

"Well, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Barb and I are here to help." The brown-haired girl smiled across from her.

“Thank you, Nancy.”

After some more light conversation, Barb showed Y/N the way to the rest of her classes, but her brain scrambled and she forgot where to go for sixth hour after lunch. She looked around the halls, lost, glancing at the number for her class on her paper schedule, looking back up to read the classroom door numbers to try and find a match.

“Hey there, new girl, you lost or something?” An unfamiliar masculine voice echoed in the girl’s ears, glancing up to see a tall, brown-haired boy, whose hair was styled fancily, falling almost perfectly in front of his face.

He had light brown eyes that reflected golden in the sunlight—wearing a nicely fitted navy button-up shirt with jeans and Nike blazers. He had slightly tan skin, and if you looked close enough, you could see a few moles that complemented his face. He stood across the hall from her, hand on hip, watching her gaze land on him.

“Not exactly lost, just—finding my way around.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, clutching her books to her chest, not wanting to ask anyone for help, let alone talk to any more people.

“Well, lucky for you…” The boy leaned against the lockers in the hall, practically beaming with confidence. “I’m an expert navigator. The name’s Steve, Steve Harrington.”

Cautiously, the girl replies. “I’m Y/N, Y/N Smith.”

“Smith, huh? Sounds mysterious. You hiding any secrets?” Steve raised an eyebrow at the girl before rudely being interrupted, by what seemed to be a friend.

“Preying on the new chick now, huh King Steve?” A boy with fluffy hair smirked as he slung his arm around Harrington. He looked smug and had pale skin, with dark hair and freckles covering his face.

“Get off me Tommy,” Steve shoved him off. “I’m just trying to help show her around,” He rolled his eyes.

When Steve finally stopped bickering with his friend, he turned to see the new girl nowhere to be found. Frustration flickered across his expression.

“You scared her off, Tommy!” He pushed his friend’s shoulder, slightly irritated—mostly disappointed.

Tommy snorted, unfazed by the reprimand. “She doesn’t seem all that worth it anyway, man. I mean—did you even look at her? She looks like a total priss anyway!” His words dripped with derision, a smug grin spreading across his face as he continued to mock the girl who had piqued Steve’s interest.

Steve’s frown deepened. “No, douchebag, there’s something about that girl…” He spoke with a mixture of curiosity and determination, a spark of intrigue lighting up his brown eyes. There was a challenge there—something different from the usual girls he encountered.

Tommy rolled his eyes and laughed, the sound grating on the brown-eyed boy’s nerves. “That’s what you say about every girl, man. Get a grip.” He shook his head, clearly dismissing Steve’s fascination as another fleeting whim, losing interest in the conversation.

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered under his breath, ignoring Tommy’s dismissive attitude. He couldn’t help but feel that this girl was a puzzle worth solving.

Y/N had turned her back on the commotion from the two boys, her steps deliberate as she made her way into the bustling school halls to find her own way to class. The fluorescent school lights above cast a harsh glow, reflecting off the polished floors.

The girl weaved through the crowd, her hair catching the occasional draft from the overhead vents, causing loose strands to brush against her face. She reached up to tuck them behind her ear, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of her Walkman clipped to her waistband. Music still played softly through her headphones, a comforting barrier between her and the overwhelming noise of the high school.

As she walked, Y/N couldn't help but notice the cliques forming in the hallways—the jocks congregating near the gym doors, the popular girls giggling by the water fountain, and the band kids chatting animatedly near the music room. Each group seemed to have its own territory, and Y/N felt like an outsider navigating through a maze of established social structures, knowing most of these kids had known each other since grade school.

Filing in with the crowd, she kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with others as she ventured her way to her next class. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before her, a labyrinth of identical doors and bustling students.

But despite the noise and the crowds, the girl felt a strange sense of calm. She was alone, but in that solitude, there was a certain freedom—a chance to observe, and to slowly, cautiously—find her place in this new town.

𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐰 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

The bell rang, announcing it was the end of Y/N’s first day at Hawkins High. She liked Barb and Nancy, and she hoped they would like her too. Yet the same question lingered in her mind; was it even worth it to make friends when she didn’t know how long she’d be in Hawkins?

But she could see right through that boy from the passing period—the typical, arrogant, rich white boy who messes with any girl he could get his hands on. He was cute, but too full of himself and wrapped up in his own world.

Y/N pressed the play button on her Walkman in her back pocket as she finally made her way out of her last hour, putting on her headphones for her ears to be met with the comforting sound of music.

“My brown eyed girl You my, brown eyed girl Do you remember when We used to sing”

As the girl made her way through the school's exit doors, her music suddenly stopped, and she felt a button on her Walkman on the side of her waistband click. She was quick to turn around to pin down who or what paused her music, visibly annoyed—only to be met with a familiar face.

That boy from the hall—more like official douchebag now, Steve Harrington.

“Why would you do that?” She snapped, agitated—with the boy immediately getting defensive, throwing his hands up to the side.

“Sorry, sorry, I was calling your name in the hall, but you didn’t hear me.” Steve gestured to her headphones with his hands.

“Right.” She walked off with a flat expression, but the brown-haired boy was quick to follow her.

“I was wondering—” he paused, unsure if he should continue due to the girl's uninterested face as she made her way toward the parking lot, her headphones still on, but no music playing.

"I'm throwing a party this Friday at my house. Food, drinks, pool, no parents, all the good stuff. I wanted to invite you… it could be good for you, meeting new people and all!" Steve raised his eyebrows in that signature way of his, the one that usually made it hard for people to say no to.

Y/N turned to look at the boy, her eyes narrowing with a hint of defiance in them. She deliberately reached into her back pocket to play her music again, looking forward to the parking lot—completely unbothered.

“---Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da Just like that”

“Jesus, this girl’s got a stick up her butt," Steve thought as the music from her headphones blared once again. He glanced back at his friends, who were a little behind him, shrugged, and kept walking beside her. He reached into his jeans pocket, grabbed a note with his address written on it, and handed it to the girl.

“At six, I’ll see you there.” He raised his eyebrows, his voice muffled through the girl's headphones as she reluctantly grabbed the note from him, watching him retreat to his group of friends.

Shaking her head, Y/N glanced forward, being met with the familiar appearance of Hopper’s vehicle pulling up in the parking lot in front of her. The girl was relieved, quick to open the door, setting her things down in the foot room of the passenger seat, and climbed into the car.

“How was your first day, kiddo?” Hopper was quick to ask as the girl closed the passenger door.

“It was alright… the people were nice. I’ll survive,” She shrugged, to which Hopper gave a small chuckle.

“You’ll survive, huh?” He mocked in a joking manner.

“Yeah,” she gave a small grin, proceeding to hold up a note to the man, waving it around. “I got invited to a party.”

“It was by that boy that was walking with you, huh,” Hopper noted his observation, his tone covered by a sense of protectiveness.

“You already know the rules though, kid. No parties. No boys. Especially at my house.” He eyed the girl, his eyebrows raising as he put the car in drive.

“I know, I don’t want to go anyway.”

After Hopper dropped the girl off from school, the chief continued his day back at the police station. Y/N was seated on the back patio of the trailer that sat on a lake. There was a slight breeze as her hair danced with the wind, her eyelashes fluttering at her sketchbook on her lap. Beyond the lake, trees covered the land, and the sound of cicadas chirping filled the girl’s ears. It was cooling off, and sunset was in a few hours.

Her pencil glided across the sketchbook page, detailing the lake and the landscape around it. She added a few finishing touches, looking back up to see details of the trees, but her eyes went wide, a bit frightened—as she was met with the same sight of the ethereal orange and red glow in the woods she had seen at the trailer park in her father’s backyard.

The girl sketched the sight with curiosity, adding the orange and red hues to the drawing. As she looked up again to continue sketching, a tall figure—similar to the one in the woods before, moved in the tree line.

A bit unsettled, she closed the sketchbook and watched as the colors began to fade from the woods, with the figure nowhere to be found. She rushed inside to read the time on the clock, 5:41 PM. Hopper should be home by six-fifteen. She’ll be alright.

Probably just deer anyway.

She brushed off what she saw, ignoring how unsettled she felt, making her way into the kitchen. “Shit,” the girl cursed at herself, realizing she left her toast in the toaster when she got home from school after getting dropped off.

She sat her sketchbook down on the kitchen counter and cleaned up the toast. She truly did consider going to Steve Harrington’s party on Friday, but she knew how it would turn out. He and his friends were douchebags anyways, and all they’re probably going to do is drink and smoke.

And then she began to remember the rules Hopper had set in place when she moved in with him. “I get off work late usually, it depends, but I always want you home no past 9. And no boys, no drugs, no parties… you already know. And don’t answer the door if you don’t recognize the person there. Most importantly, no lies. If you’re going somewhere, write down where before you leave so I know. That’s all I ask of you.”

It was frustrating, having limitations and rules as she’d been used to her independence—taking care of herself during the decline of her father.

After her mother passed away, she was practically on her own. Of course, her father also made up rules along the way and would punish her for whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. But she knew she had to respect Hopper, whether she liked it or not.

As the girl sat in thought doing dishes in the sink, in the corner of her eye, she was met with a dark figure moving past the trees outside the window in front of her. Startled, she dropped the dish she was cleaning on the floor, seeing glass shards cover the floor. She let out a strained sigh, trying to shake off the fear nagging at her, assuming it was some sort of wildlife, beginning to pick up the mess.

While she cleaned up the kitchen, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling rising in her system. The glow from the woods again, the figure… suddenly, she heard a car engine pull up.

Footsteps approached the trailer, and she heard the familiar sound of keys jingling to open the front door. She watched the door open as the familiar sight of Hopper entered the trailer, taking off his chief hat and throwing it onto the couch with takeout in his hands.

“Got Chinese for our movie tonight. Won’t be able to do it on Friday like usual this week,” The chief announced, setting down the food on the coffee table in the living room.

“You’re home early,” Y/N announced, reading the clock, 5:51 PM, watching as Hopper gave a small nod, busy ridding his uniform jacket. “Quiet day.”

“Have you been seeing any animals around lately? Like deer or something?” She questioned, still uneasy from what she saw.

“Sometimes they come around. Why, did you see one?” Hopper questioned, plopping down on the couch, leather squeaking.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing a lot lately,” Y/N hesitantly responded, knowing there was no explanation for what she saw—which was most definitely not deer.

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲

“So you’re telling me, the Steve Harrington invited you to a party, and you’re not going?” Barb emphasized her words as Y/N walked through the high school halls, passing peers toward the cafeteria.

“Yeah, he invited me on Monday actually, but I think his friends convinced him to do it.” Y/N looked over at Barb, shrugging. “It’s not that big of a deal. I can’t even go… not that I want to anyway.” She continued, opening the doors to the lively cafeteria.

“You’re really going to turn down King Steve?” Nancy chimed in, her tone sharp in her sarcasm as she emphasized the silly nickname. There was something about the way she said it that made Y/N pause, but she quickly brushed it off.

“I don’t know why you guys are making it seem like such a big deal. He’s probably invited so many other people anyway… and why does everyone keep calling him that? It’s ridiculous,” Y/N shook her head as she grabbed a food tray.

“It’s what everyone calls him!” Barb answered, trailing behind Y/N. “If you went, imagine how popular you would get, and you’re brand new to Hawkins!” She added, trying to convince the girl.

Nancy, however, gave a half-hearted smile, her eyes not quite meeting Y/N’s. “Yeah, because apparently, Steve Harrington doesn’t have enough girls following him around already,” she muttered, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance.

“I don’t get why ‘the Steve Harrington’ is such a big deal. And I’m not interested in the popular crowd anyway,” Y/N mocked. “He seems like any other popular, rich, arrogant douchebag. I mean, look at his friends, and his hair!” She continued, watching as Nancy’s eyes flickered over her shoulder, suddenly widening along with Barb’s.

“Oh my god, what is it now?” Y/N turned around, only to be met by Steve Harrington—and his hair. God, his absurd hair.

“What about my hair?” Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowed together in question, his hands automatically reaching up to smooth it as if he could fix whatever she was criticizing.

“Oh, nothing…” Y/N shook her head, looking up at the boy, a bit startled by his sudden appearance.

“Well, you’re still coming to the party tonight, right?” Steve asked, his gaze fixed on her. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she prayed that he didn’t hear the rather harsh words she’d just said about him and his friends.

“Uh,” she started, “Yeah, I can’t go.” She continued, watching as the boy's expression fell into utter disappointment.

“What, your parents won’t let you?” Steve questioned, slightly pouting, his lips formed into a small frown.

“I guess, and I’m not exactly the party girl anyway,” Y/N shrugged, glancing to the side where she caught Nancy staring at the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Well, if your friends went, would you go?” The boy came up with an idea, with Nancy’s eyes flicking up to Steve’s. “I’ll go,” She chimed in, lightly elbowing Barb as she hesitantly nodded.

“I’m not going either way, sorry.” Y/N shook her head, confident in her answer.

“Just consider it! You can always sneak out.” Steve winked, turning his head to the sound of his friends calling his name, getting distracted.

“Okay, I’ll see you guys tonight, at six!” He pointed toward the girls, shuffling off to his lunch table.

“Y/N, you should really go to the party,” Nancy suggested, but there was something off in her tone, almost like she was trying too hard to sound casual. “I mean, it’s Steve Harrington. Not everyone gets that kind of invite.”

“No—no way,” Y/N refused stubbornly, insisting on not going.

Nancy forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fine, have fun missing out!” She mocked Steve’s words with a hint of something Y/N couldn’t quite identify—was it jealousy?

Barb, noticing the tension, chimed in. “I’m sure it’ll be fun… or not. I’m not really a party girl either, but I think I’ll sit this one out,” she said with a light laugh, but Y/N could feel Nancy’s lingering gaze, making her wonder if there was more to this than just a party invite.

“You guys can go without me, I’m sure you’ll have fun if you end up going,” The girl gave a slight shrug to her friends, walking past them to grab her lunch.

“Steve Harrington, rejected by the new girl? No way,” a girl sitting next to Tommy at Steve's table scoffed, her voice dripping with disbelief.

Carol, with her light red hair styled to perfection and a face full of makeup that highlighted her icy blue eyes, leaned in closer to the conversation, clearly savoring the moment. Her fair skin contrasted sharply with the dark eyeliner that made her stare seem even more judgmental.

“Stop it, Carol,” Steve muttered, trying to sound nonchalant as he waved her off, but there was an edge to his voice.

He slouched back in his seat, attempting to brush off the sting of rejection. He hated how it was becoming a topic of discussion, especially with Carol and Tommy around. They thrived on gossip, and he wasn’t in the mood to be their next punchline.

“Come on, Steve,” Carol pressed, her tone teasing but with a sharpness that cut through the cafeteria noise.

“There’s got to be something up with her. Maybe she’s just playing hard to get, or maybe she’s not interested at all. I mean, who could turn down you?” The sarcasm in her voice was thick, as if she found the very idea ridiculous.

Steve sighed, rubbing his temple with frustration. “Maybe she’s worth getting to know, you know? I want to see what she's really about,”

There was something about Y/N that intrigued him—her guarded expression, the way she wasn’t immediately taken in by his usual charm. It was different, and maybe that was what kept her on his mind.

“Yeah, if she actually wanted to talk to you,” Carol cut in, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself.

Tommy, who had been listening with an entertained grin, decided to jump in. “Or maybe King Steve finally met someone who isn’t falling at his feet—"

“You just don’t quit, do you?” Steve snapped, and the outburst caused a few heads to turn their way, but Steve didn’t care. He was tired of the mocking, tired of everyone acting like they knew him better than he knew himself.

“Touchy, touchy,” Tommy scoffed, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk remained firmly in place. “Just saying, man, maybe she’s not into the whole ‘King of Hawkins High’ thing. Maybe you gotta' try a different approach.”

Steve didn’t respond, just stared at the table, lost in thought. He hated to admit it, but Tommy might have a point. Maybe Y/N wasn’t impressed by his usual tricks. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have to be someone different to get through to her.

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taglist: @anqelically @cupofjoekeery @steviespookie @hailqueenconquer @just-tiredman @x-theolivia @fuckshitslover

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #jim hopper #father figure jim hopper #stranger things rewrite #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #slowburn #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steves friends suck #worlds apart

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aurorawest · 11 months ago

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Summer Reading Update (part 1)

Teach the Torches to Burn by Caleb Roehrig - 4.75/5 stars

This was a really well done retelling of Romeo and Juliet. I read another book from the Remixed Classics series, Dear Henry, and while that one was also good, it felt like it adhered too slavishly to The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, so sometimes things seemed to be happening only because they happened in the original. And I haven't actually read the original book, it was just...easy to tell. Teach the Torches to Burn never felt like that, and I loved how it fleshed out so many of the characters from the play.

You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian - 5/5 stars

I feel like tumblr sings this one's praises enough that I don't really have to, but—everyone should read this. Everyone should read all of Cat Sebastian's books. I think I liked this one better than We Could Be So Good, but that could just be because I've found myself becoming more and more of a sucker for sports romances.

Unhallowed by Jordan L Hawk - 4.75/5 stars

Sad to say goodbye to the Whyborne and Griffin series, but I already love this spinoff!

Soul of Ash by HL Moore - 3.75/5 stars

Crow's Fate by Kim Fielding - 3.75/5 stars

The Sleeping Soldier by Aster Glenn Gray - 5/5 stars

I sound like a broken record re: Aster Glenn Gray, but please read her books. If you like Cat Sebastian's mid-century romances (like You Should Be So Lucky!) you like Aster Glenn Gray. This one is ostensibly a Sleeping Beauty retelling, but one where the sleeper actually sleeps for 100 years. In this case, it's a Union soldier who is put in an enchanted sleep in 1865 and wakes up in 1965 and oh my god, it's so good. It examines racism, it examines toxic masculinity, it examines homophobia, and how same-sex platonic affection became taboo. I'm pretty sure this woman has never written a bad book, but this may be her best.

Alec by Kaje Harper - 3.75/5 stars

Artemis by Andy Weir - 3.75/5 stars

Oak King Holly King by Sebastian Nothwell - 4.75/5 stars

I loved this one! There are so many books about Faerie and they can be pretty hit or miss for me, but this one struck just the right balance of otherworldly, inhuman creatures and characters I could root for. Shrike and Wren were lovely.

Imperfect Illusions by Vanora Lawless - DNF at pg 56

Orchestrated Love by AJ Buchanan - DNF at pg 1

Razorblade Tears by SA Cosby - 4.25/5 stars

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern - 5/5 stars (reread)

The Only Light Left Burning by Erik J Brown - 5/5 stars

Excellent sequel about what happens after you make it to the last bastion of civilization after the apocalypse.

Unwieldy Creatures by Addie Tsai - DNF at pg 12

A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ Charles - 5/5 stars

Oh man. This may have displaced the Will Darling Adventures as my favorite KJ Charles book. Wonderful MCs, A+ side character arcs, and villains you really loved to hate. I rambled on a lot about this book to my wife after I finished it.

Stars in Your Eyes by Kacen Callender - DNF at pg 156

His Lordship's Secret by Samantha SoRelle - 3.75/5 stars

Us, Et Cetera by Kit Vincent - 5/5 stars

Cinderella retelling with androids but Christ on a bike was this a painful read. Really, really well done. Highly recommended.

Charming Young Man by Eliot Schrefer - 5/5 stars

My 5 star rating diverges pretty sharply from the average Storygraph rating for this book, and I'm not sure why, other than maybe people thinks it's PrObLeMaTic. It was definitely not a super happy book, though it ends on a good note (that's a pun btw!). I thought it was a great book about a period that isn't often written about (1890s Paris) with a fascinating protagonist (who was a real person).

Dark Heir by CS Pacat - 5/5 stars

It's a CS Pacat book; it's the sequel to Dark Rise; obvs I loved it. I don't understand why this series is shelved under YA except that Pacat's publisher thinks more people will buy them. This series is the gay Lord of the Rings you always wanted and somehow is an even slower burn than Captive Prince.

Of Knights and Books and Falling in Love by Rita A Rubin - DNF at pg 50

Cover Story by Valerie Gomez - DNF at pg 176

Letters to Half Moon Street by Sarah Wallace - 4/5 stars

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slugbutter · 28 days ago

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to everyone protesting today at no kings or otherwise, here are a few tips to stay safe. (links to more resources below).

prepare, prepare, prepare

stay hydrated (make sure any water you bring is not in glass bottles & is not frozen. metal bottles may vary in acceptability by state, but glass bottles & frozen water are being listed as weapons by law enforcement).

bring essential supplies (small first aid kit, chemical irritant removers, flashlight for night protests, cash, etc.)

don’t bring valuables.

keep your cell fully charged, bring a portable charger, & turn off bluetooth/wifi/location services. (or get a burner & either memorise or write on your body the most important phone numbers. if you’re not bringing your cell, consider bringing a digital camera & a gps or map. additionally, if you will be filming, do so in landscape as much as possible so the footage is usable in court if needed).

wear “ppe” (whatever goggles you can get your hands on - especially if you wear contacts, masks, extra padding over your vital organs, etc.)

know where you are

make sure you have access to an offline map of the venue/surrounding areas.

park far from the protest area & walk. (take a bike if you can, but make a note of where you leave it or where you parked).

plan multiple in to & out of routes.

choose an emergency meeting point with your group or, if you’re alone, make sure someone not attending the protest knows where you are.

keep yourself & others safe

maintain 360° situational awareness.

should you find yourself in harm’s way, remember that the best thing to do is remove yourself from the situation as quickly & calmly as possible. if that isn’t a viable option, protect your vital organs.

be on alert for suspicious activity & if you see something, say something.

if you’re going to a protest alone, especially as a woman, try to find a group to stay close to.

ooda stays on loop (observe crowd movements, police presence, escalation, etc.; orient yourself with past experience or research you’ve done to plan your next steps; decide to stay, reposition, or leave; act quickly & reassess immediately).

be prepared to de-escalate (stay calm, keep a steady voice, avoid provocative behaviour, don’t engage agitators, walk away if you can).

if confronted or detained

don’t resist arrest or escalate the situation.

clearly state that you wish to remain silent & request a lawyer.

don’t try to explain yourself or negotiate with law enforcement.

if safe, document everything you can. share this with legal counsel or advocacy groups. use discernment when posting to social media. we want to get the word out, but we also want to respect privacy & protect identities.

know what legal resources can aid you in any number of potential outcomes.

after the protest

contact friends &/or family to let them know you’re safe, if you are.

debrief with your group about the experience & report to legal aid groups, as necessary.

take care of yourself.

links

human rights campaign - tips for preparedness, peaceful protesting, & safety

aclu - protesters’ rights

ipmba - activists’ guide to police chemical weapons

#sluglife #no kings #no kings protest #no kings protests #la protests #los angeles protests #fuck ice #free palestine #politics #us politics #stay safe

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itsgirlcraft · 6 months ago

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Yall are getting spoilers for my One Disaster After Another Steve Saga AU~

Sooo this is a modern au where the Steves are all humans that are transformed into Steves. And Sabre is a social worker trying to find the root cause of all this, and keep tensions down. All of the transformations are connected to the Macguffin™ and Sabre's backstory, and let's just say most of them would've died if it weren't for that.

((Okay yall this is 2,235 words so FAIR WARNING. This is LONG 💀))

Dark Steve was betrayed by a close friend in a volcano-cavern hike, thrown off a bridge into the flowing lava far below. He came back confused and angry, but was quick to get vengeance. He haunted his former "friend", burning messages into their walls and flesh, covering windows in volcanic ash, and, eventually, consuming them in lava. No one ever found out what happened, just that they were seemingly haunted by a demon.

Nightmare Steve was originally transformed into a Yellow Steve, his friend becoming a Red Steve. He was overcome with bloodlust and desire for power, taking his friend's life and becoming the beast he is now. He is wanted for murder, and was hiding in alleyways at first. Dark found him, and was the one to guide Night towards his villainous legacy. Nightmare eventually gained confidence and became the King you all know.

Light was on a snow trip and was consumed by an avalanche, transforming into something furred, icy, and yet warm. The only reason they found him is because he figured out how to turn his fingers into long icicles, long enough to reach the surface. The rescue dogs couldn't tell the difference between him and the snow, the two were indistinguishable. The local rangers escorted him back home, including on the train.

Rainbow, ironically, is one of the few people I don't have a solid concept for. He was transformed after the first 5 colors, and shares a house with Light.

Red Steve was the first, transformed after his house caught fire. Everyone thought he did it on purpose, and thought he was a demonic entity haunting the town. In reality, he'd scraped together what little he had left, and tried to run away into the forest. But he was caught stealing food, and that's when the police surrounded him. They would've killed him if it weren't for Sabre stepping in (ironic compared to the og series...). Sabre took him to his car and they finally cleared up what happened, and he lives with Sabre now.

Green Steve was the second, and was caught by a grove of trees changed by the Macguffin Magic™. Their vines and branches swallowed him up, transforming him into something wooden and leafy. He was a teenager at the time, and had taken many walks through that forest. His parents called Sabre to help find him. Green met one of the talking trees, who does not take people. The tree explained there was a burst of magic that changed this forest, and some chose to use their power selfishly.

Blue Steve was the third, and, naturally, drowned. His leg was caught in coral and rock, and he wasn't strong enough to pull himself out. The body recovered was slimy and nearly unrecognizable as a person, until he woke up. Sabre once again was on the front lines, and helped Blue recover. Blue is a college student, and let's just say the second Blue Steve has a...sibling that caused a lot of harm. Her sibling caused the second Blue transformation.

Yellow and Purple were both transformed during a Macguffin Magic Storm™. Both are kids. Yellow Steve was riding his bike home from school when he was struck with lightning. He was lucky that the mom in the car next to him called Sabre immediately. He was found glowing and muddy, but his backpack and such were fine somehow. Sabre put his bike in his trunk and tried his best to dry him off, and was driving him home when he got a call for Purple.

Purple Steve is one of the youngest, under 10 years old, and is directly related to the Macguffin™. Something her currently-missing father built was activated by the storm, bringing an enderman from an alternate reality into their home. They weren't scared up until when it attacked them. The remnants of her father appeared to them, defeating the creature, but Purple was forever changed. This is not abnormal to her. Their father has appeared to them before, giving her information on the creatures he has encountered. She has an enderman plush from him, one of the few physical objects he has brought them. Purple was struggling to control their teleportation, as they kept getting frightened by Lucas, who called Sabre. Yellow decided to come with, and was able to calm her down.

Sabre, as a teenager, helped Purple's father build the Macguffin™, and wears a bandanna due to a...scar, of sorts, from the thing malfunctioning. He originally wanted to be a cop as a kid, but discovered all the corruption and politics surrounding that. He figured a social worker is better for everything he really wanted to be and to do. Compared to the og series, it's ironic how good he is at conflict resolution. It doesn't work every time, of course. Eventually, he founds an organization to assist Steves in both law/safety and daily life, and that's where the Rainbow Town comes from. It's not so much a place, as an idea, though it does have a physical space at one point.

Plague Steve had died from disease when he was transformed, and was poked and prodded for months by doctors. Those very "doctors" refused to tell him what he'd died from, or let him leave. He suffered a lot of medical trauma in that time frame. There were holes rotted away in his skin. He had to wear a gas mask when he finally left, as per the contract he was forced to sign. Despite the fact that it was understood that he was not inherently contagious. He despises the alienation the whole thing brought upon him, and just wants to be close to someone for once. He turned against Sabre and Rainbow violently the moment they believed he was dangerous/evil.

Positive Steve and Negative Steve were Yellow/Red twins experimented on by Nightmare, who was trying to replicate his backstory. It didn't work as he'd expected, but brought promising results after they were able to fuse together. They weren't even teens yet when he took them. A mix of Frankenstein-style experimenting and a bit of psychological torture brought them to their hybrid-like appearance. If they didn't distrust everyone who wasn't Night and Dark, they could've found a safe haven in the Rainbow Town.

Hypno Steve was meant to replicate the Infinity experiments, but led Dark to create something else entirely. Hypno is one of the few Steves that utterly despises what he has become, and never truly embraces it. Of course, plenty spend a few months being Angsty about it, but that is a defining part of Hypno. He's not sad - he's angry. If it were up to him, he'd end every Steve, every source of magic, from this world. He'd purge it all. But Rainbow is the one thing holding him back, that reminds him that his existence has a place in this world. Unlike Pos and Neg, he distrusts the place he comes from the most.

The Galaxy Family is one of my favorites. Illusion ran away from home as a child, and lives alone in an abandoned house, stealing from local chain stores. Galaxy and Void are feuding brothers, which begins to hurt everyone around them, including those most important - their sons. Galaxy is at fault for Void and Memory's transformations, and this is the final straw that brings Void to villainy.

Galaxy Steve was walking home with groceries in the rain when he fell into a wormhole. He witnessed the stars, supernovae, and far-away planets, eventually landing in the purple/galaxy dimension completely changed. He's fluffy, with four arms and a sort of alien-wolf look. He gets distracted by all the sights before remembering the groceries and his kids, going back to find all his paper bags soaked and ripped. He carries everything in his arms, and finds his sons changed too.

Time Steve loves clockwork and gears, and was fixing a clock in the basement when he got caught on something and...he blacked out. There was blood. He fused with the clock. No-one is quite sure how or why, but it happened. Elemental found him after his own transformation, and was devastated, thinking his irresponsibility had killed his dear brother. El took his brother up to the living room, finding he was still alive. Time woke up not long after Galaxy got home, and was surprised by what had happened. But he wasn't afraid, for he had his family by his side.

Elemental Steve was enjoying the storm outside when he was struck by lightning, falling into a pond. He woke up underwater, barely having time to adjust before he remembered his brother. He worried he'd burn/soak things with strange liquid-solid hands, but they seemed to work normally. Time snuggled up to his lava-arm after waking up. He can change how solid his arms are, shifting them in size and, eventually, making them float. He grew his vines around his brother to keep Time close after finding him unconscious.

Illusion Steve was transformed after a severe panic attack while he was stealing late at night. He'd lived with panic attacks and anxiety for a long time, but this one was so overwhelming he fell unconscious. His new body did give him a pocket dimension to put goods in, though, so he used that to his advantage. He took some clothes to hide himself, but the whole experience led him to almost getting caught. He revealed himself as a last-ditch effort, discovering his powers. He's even more distrustful of people than everyone else.

Void Steve and Memory Steve were both transformed as a result of Galaxy and co. visiting. Galaxy was trying to explain what had happened to a very tired Void when his powers tweaked out and he summoned a darker version of the wormhole beneath his brother. He jumped in after him, even though Galaxy wasn't sure he'd make it back. He bore witness to Void's transformation, just out of reach as they fell down, down, down, past black holes and asteroids. Until they landed in the Void Dimension, where Void blew up in Galaxy's face about everything. Everything that has hurt him, every stupid decision. By the time they came back, Galaxy could barely stammer out an apology.

Memory Steve witnessed the wormhole, and ran, but Galaxy asked Time and Elemental to make sure he's safe. He'd run to the basement, and in the dark fell into his own dimension. The two went after him, bearing witness to his transformation, too. In the lava-swamp of the dimension, Memory couldn't speak, running nowhere. He was naturally selectively mute, but here, his thoughts were written on signs trailing behind him. His human face became something of a distant memory by the time he stopped. His nephews comfort him and take him back home. Void discovers what happened and is even more furious with his brother, banning them all from stepping anywhere near him and his son. Void's protectiveness of his son takes him down a dark path that hurts the very one he loves the most. Memory kept in contact with them in secret, until he just...didn't. Void started getting in his head.

So..who did I skip...Shadow, Reverse...oooohh!! Ghost and Faceless, yesss!!!

Ghost Steve was the first prey of the Catacombs, getting lost and, eventually, losing himself. The catacombs are alive, and hungry for an identity. Ghost was a young adult, tired of the life he was living. He decided to leave the touring group, wandering the musty halls alone. But soon he found himself in a shifting maze of bleak, mossy brick, where only his own voice echoed. The longer he stayed, the more it hurt, until it didn't. Ghost doesn't know if he truly died down there, or if he simply changed. But by the time he'd found the touring area again, he wasn't human. He was see-through, a ghost of what he once was. And, slowly, that's all he ever was. There was nothing before this. He was just...Ghost.

Faceless was once a failed businessman, frustrated with his life, and went into the catacombs to get away from it all. But it wasn't long before the dust of the dead called to him, too. He slipped between the cracks, finding an old mask with not a single facial feature, just gray... He put it on, and was choked by the smell of death. But it wouldn't come off. He could feel his face practically melting away. It wasn't long before the color faded from his skin, and the only facial feature left...was a single, sideways eye in the center of his face. It wasn't long before Ghost found him, and asked who he was. ...Everything that provided identity for Faceless was fading, too. His license was unreadable, and anything else with his name was falling apart. Ghost etched what little he could figure out on the stone bricks around them. And that is all that remains.

...

Godamn you read it all? Good work! Have a cookie! 🍪

...

Wanna know a secret?

...

Purple's father is Origin Steve.

He's the Macguffin.

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broiderie · 3 months ago

Text

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 32

Alright. It's short- as I expect my updates will be for a while- but it's an update.

Don't steal my shit

Warning: talk of hitmen, gun usage, cocky as fuck Miguel Galindo, and cursing. Filler.

"We're all set. Meeting Galindo at the range in an hour," Creeper said as he snapped the burner phone closed.

"Good," Marcus said with a nod. He looked to Happy. "I'll have my conversation while you do your thing, Reaper."

Happy smirked.

Hank patted Megan's hip. "C 'mon, mi reina. Let's go get you armed." She stood obediently.

"Just a second, Tranq," Bishop said. "Lemme get her new Kevlar off my bike." He grinned at Marcus. “Your boy came through." He returned a few moments later with a different kind of Kevlar. "Here. Swap the riding armor out of her kutte for this. Then when she zips her kutte closed- instant Kevlar."

Taza laughed." Thanks, ‘Mano. That'll make Coco happy." He took it from his president to go place it.

Creep nodded as well. "I'll let the others know about the meet. I'll let Coco know about the addition to Little Princess’ gear. Maybe it'll keep him from getting too trigger happy."

Bishop snorted. "Alright. Angel and the Prospect are most likely already gone South. Have Gilly, Riz, and Coco meet us there."

Hank and Megan armed her with her knives and guns quickly and met everyone outside at the porch.

"Sorry, Chica. Probably best if we leave the pooch here and you ride the bike with Hank," Taza said. “The car won't favor the terrain out there."

Megan nodded and scratched Rex's ears. She pressed a kiss to the top of his furry head and gave him the command to stay. Then, she took Hank's helping hand and mounted the Road King behind her caballero.

They arrived at the meeting spot about fifteen minutes before the appointed time. Once off the bike, Hank carefully zipped Megan's kutte for her.

"Move her holster to the outside," Happy grunted. "She'll need it."

Hank froze, but Megan shrugged out of the kutte and handed it to him before swapping it for her holster. Once both were back on, Hank helped her adjust the buckles on her shoulder rig to accommodate the bulk of the leather. "Too tight, mi amore?" he asked quietly.

Megan rolled her shoulders carefully. "Nope. All good."

Happy nodded and tilted his head towards the targets. "C'mon, Little Girl. Let's see that aim."

Megan moved with Happy to the range area and began target practice as the rest of the club barreled up the dirt road. It wasn't long before Coco came to join her with more ammo from the armory. The rest of the bikers settled in to wait.

A dark Range Rover came into view 15 minutes after the designated meet time. It parked and the passengers waited for the dust to settle before Nestor climbed out of the driver's seat to open the back seat door. Out stepped Miguel Galindo in his perfectly pressed three piece suit. When the car first arrived, Megan made as if to stop the shooting she was doing, but Happy shook his head. He guided her to keep going. "Ignore the flash, Little Girl. Don't give him the satisfaction."

Coco caught on quickly. "Keep shootin 'Ma. He thinks he can intimidate la princessa de los Mayas. Show him you don't give a shit."

Megan nodded after glancing to be sure Hank and Taza were both between her and the approaching cartel leader. She continued to shoot- putting bullet after bullet in a tight pattern on the target in front of her. Coco kept himself distracted with her shooting as well, while Happy made sure that the Reaper on his kutte was very visible to the suited men.

Marcus met Miguel with Bishop and Taza in tow. "Appreciate the meeting, Mr. Galindo. I believe we have some important things to discuss," he said as he offered his hand to shake.

Miguel took the handshake with a too white smile. "Of course, Marcus.. I'm hoping you have news I want to hear." He glanced at the other two men. "I assume you've discussed things with them?"

"You didn't really give him a choice with that comment yesterday," Bish pointed out. "Not that it mattered. We'd already discussed things as a club." He lit a cigarette with his zippo.

Miguel buttoned his suit jacket. "Just a business tactic, gentlemen."

Marcus frowned. "So- harassing my goddaughter? Is that a business tactic as well? Because I don't appreciate you bringing her into our business."

Miguel paused. "I wasn't aware that expressing polite concern for the welfare of a vulnerable young lady was considered harassment." He cut his eyes to the range where Megan continued picking off farther and farther targets with her handgun as the others looked on.

Hank stood halfway between the two groups with his arms crossed so that he could see what was happening with his president as well as the love of his life.

Taza crossed his own arms and chuckled a bit evilly. “Vulnerable is not how I would describe la princessa." He pointedly looked between her and the cartel boss. "Especially with her training."

Miguel scoffed slightly, but paused as Nestor leaned over to murmur something only he could hear. Miguel nodded and straightened his shoulders before putting his hands in his suit pants pockets. "You let a well known hitman that close to your family and then question my motives. You do know who you have her associating with?"

Now it was Marcus' turn to chuckle a bit. "Of course. Megan has grown quite close with several Sons- including the Tacoma Killer. He gifted her a protection dog for her birthday. The Scot as well. She's... very well liked in our world." He shrugged casually. "In any case- she is none of your business. Ever. You came to me with an offer at the casino. Now, I'm ready to answer you."

"And that answer is?"

"I require certain... conditions... that will not be violated if you want me in your organization." Marcus reached for his own cigarillo and lighter. "I will never act against my club or my family. I also require guarantees that Megan, my wife, and my daughter are kept out of any cartel business. Any cartel business. They are innocent and are to remain outside your world."

Miguel turned to watch Megan shoot again. "How do you plan to do that with your precious princess as part of your club? Especially with the Feds involved."

Bishop tapped the ash from his cigarette. "Let us worry about that. You just worry about leaving Megan alone. No more early morning spa day offers. No more date interruptions. Nothing."

Taza nodded. "The buisness doesn't touch her and neither do you."

Miguel pursed his lips as if in thought. "I will agree not to instigate anything more than a casual greeting between acquaintances- but if she comes to me of her own accord, I will not turn her away. Fair enough?"

"And the assurance of no action against my club or its members?" Marcus asked.

"I've no reason to act against an ally- as long as they don't act against me. Your club is safe," Miguel said. "So- will you be joining me, Marcus?"

"Pending a table vote by the club- yes. We'll vote it tonight. You'll have my final answer by lunch tomorrow."

Miguel offered another handshake. "Excellent. Glad you made the right decision. I'll have the contract drawn up- with your conditions- and ready for you to sign."

Marcus shook Miguel's hand, and they both turned to look back at Megan only to find Happy watching them closely. The bald Son blatantly stared down the cartel leader and his security with a slightly manic smirk as he loaded a magazine for Megan.

"You really should be more careful about the friends your goddaughter makes, Marcus. You never know when a mercenary like that will turn on her," Miguel pointed out with a nod. "I happen to know, Devante worked with Mr. Lowman several times under my father."

Marcus smirked a bit. "Poquito makes her own choices about her friendships. And we think the training he offers is likely to be beneficial. I thought her caballero made that perfectly clear. Megan isn't fragile like glass, Mr. Galindo. She's fragile like a bomb."

Bishop chuckled. “And twice as deadly."

After a few more pleasantries, Miguel and Nestor loaded up in their slightly less shiny SUV and drove off back to civilization.

Once they were out of sight, Coco patted Megan's good shoulder. "You're good, Ma. Let's get some water, huh?"

Megan relaxed from her shooter's stance and safetied her weapon. "Thank goodness. My ears are ringing and the kickback was starting to bother my wrist."

Happy also patted her slightly awkwardly. "You did good, Little Girl. I think we made our point."

Creeper brought them some water bottles as Megan unzipped her kutte. He cracked Megan's open before handing it to her with a grin.

"And what point, exactly, did we make?" she asked as she sipped from the cool bottle.

Hank walked over with a smile. "That you are a very well connected woman, mi reina. That the Sons of Anarchy as well as the Mayans support and protect you."

Gilly snorted- "And that you're a fucking badass with a gun. Damn, Princessa. Did you miss?"

Coco chuckled. "Not on anything in range she didn't."

Megan shrugged nonchalantly. " Told you I could shoot."

All the men around her laughed as Hank pulled her close enough to kiss her forehead. "That you can, mi amore."

Taza, Marcus, and Bishop came over to join them as they started picking up Megan's brass. "Tio Marcus- how'd it go?" she asked handing Creeper the spent cartriges in her hand.

Marcus smiled reassuringly at her. "All good, Bebita. We'll vote tonight in Templo. Your Tia and Prima will be much closer soon." Megan hugged him tightly, but didn't say anything else.

Back at the clubhouse, they parted ways with Happy. The quiet Son ruffed Megan's hair affectionately before handing her a small piece of paper with a phone number on it and a simple smilely face. “Take care, Little Girl."

Megan smiled and tucked the paper in her kutte pocket. "Ride safe, Happy."

With a nod for the other Mayans, Happy buckled his helmet and was gone.

Taza slipped a gentle arm around her sholaders and smiled down at her. "What'd he give you, Chica?"

Megan pulled it out and showed him. "I assume his cell phone number." She shrugged. "I'll get it in my phone..."

Bishop overheard her and choked on air. Once he'd cleared his throat, he asked. "Really?"

Megan looked at her godfather in confusion. "I mean-it's a phone number with a happy face beside it... Why?"

Hank smiled as he stowed her helmet on his bike. "Because, Princessa, not even I have any number for Happy except his club burner."

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

@keyweegirlie

#lost princessa #mayans mc #meet the reaper #lost princessa sequel #taza x daughter!oc #megan(oc) x hank #hank loza #che taza romero #bishop losa #hank loza x oc!megan #happy lowman #johnny coco cruz #neron creeper vargas #gilly lopez

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smilesatdawnmain · 9 months ago

Note

Hi!

How long was Peng hidden before he revealed himself in your Taken AU during Wukongs first meeting with MK?

Ohohohoh, Peng was there for... quite a while.

Allow me to show~

-------

There was something about Wukong’s power that one could easily find. Wild, like a sunbeam cutting through a pitch dark cave. Even lingering traces tended to have a trace to them if you knew where and how to look.

Being around Wukong for as long as they had, Peng knew these traces. Of course, there were means in hiding them, so they were worried they would have trouble with finding Wukong’s staff.

They had gone to the resting place Wukong had set it down, finding it was indeed ripped from the Earth and taken. They had both scanned the area for any clue, coming up short.

At least, Wukong, had come up short.

Peng had found something rather interesting. A single long strand of Red hair. This hair was silky, hot to the touch, and smelled of charcoal. A familiar trace of a different, but just as sneaky Nephew. Peng had said nothing of this, opting to stick the strand of hair in their pocket for now, less Wukong discover it.

Peng in truth didn’t know what to think of this at first. Many thoughts came to mind, from Red Son coming here on his own, to Red Son coming here with Xiaotian.

So when Wukong looked ready to leave, Peng ducked ahead with a sneered, racing ahead first. Their goal was to check the city next, giving Peng quite the head start first.

To find a remnant of Wukong’s power wasn’t easy, able to be blocked if someone knew how. Even the staff, which Wukong was so connected to, could be lost in connection if it was tucked away somewhere.

Mihou’s shadow, for instance, could block the connection.

If Xiaotian did take the staff, the child could have tucked it away in a similar fashion.

He didn’t.

Which is probably why Peng found their way upon a simple apartment complex. They had been quiet, a still as any bird perched to find it’s prey. Their heart beat stilled, their breathing almost non existent.

The weathered brick facade bathed in the twilight glow, hiding secrets within. Peng could feel the pulse of Wukong's power echoing faintly through the walls, a siren call guiding them forward, seeming almost to beckon from within.

Peng crept along the cracked pavement, moving slowly, gathering their senses. It was here, inside these aging walls, where secrets thrived in corners and behind doors.

They had intended to investigate every window, every apartment, but was drawn to the roof first. While hidden behind some plants and out of general view, it took only a bit of investigation for Peng to uncover a familiar hover bike.

This was Red Son’s. The Bull Prince was here.

Ready to investigate this further, the roof doors opened, and Peng slipped behind the wall. They had kept quiet as two young men emerged from the stair case, walking side by side.

Red Son, as Pen suspected, and the boy they had all been looking for: Xiaotian. Peng had almost leapt out the moment they saw him, thrilled that their nephew was alive and well.

Yet, they steadied themselves, holding back the reunion to gather some info. From Red Son’s calmer demon and casual attitude, Peng had a feeling Red Son had not recently located Xiaotian.

No, from what they could tell, the two had been meeting up secretly probably for some time. Perhaps since the beginning. Unsurprising.

They were only impressed the boy had managed to fool Wukong and Macaque into thinking he had no idea where their son was.

The two boys stood at the edge of the roof, their silhouettes outlined by the dying sunlight, unaware that they were being watched. Peng held their breath, straining to catch snippets of their conversation—

"—I know you're worried, Red, but I really think MK has what it takes. With the Monkey King's staff and some training, he…He’ll be unstoppable.”

Peng was curious. MK? What luck that they would stumble upon such a conversation, gaining the confirmation they needed that Xiaotian was indeed involved with its disappearance. Yet, who was this MK that they spoke up?

"You have a strange amount of faith in this mortal boy." Red Son shook his head to the Monkey Prince.

"He's not just some mortal," Xiaotian countered, meeting Red Son's gaze levelly. "He’s MK.” Xiaotian seemed to hold this fact in heaven regard.

Whatever Red Son thought in return of this “Mortal boy” he didn’t say, "Very well. I trust your judgment in this...for now." Red Son guided them to his bike to seemingly leave, “Are you really okay with someone else taking it?” Red Son asked, looking at Xiaotian quizzically. “The staff, I mean.” It was Xiaotian’s birthright.

Xiaotian smiled with a confidence Peng hadn’t seen in a time, “I never wanted it in the first place.” he chuckled. “It suits MK much better then me.” There was a lightness about him. Peng wondered if that had always been there, but was positive it wasn’t. For Wukong so convinced that their boy would shatter the moment he even touched the mortal realm, the child seemed to be thriving.

Red Son’s shoulder’s slouched, “If… that is what you believe.” The Bull Prince tossed his leg over his bike.

"Be careful on your way back," Xiaotian cautioned, "The huntsman is aware of our identities now. He might- I dunno… try something.”

Peng twisted their head. A Huntsman? Seemed the two had found some trouble lately. Not unexpected. They craned their neck, struggling to look at them without being spotted, forced to listen more then see.

Red Son snorted, revving the engine. "As if some lowly spider demon concerns me. It is you I should be cautioning." Despite his bravado, there was a tenderness to his voice that gave way, "I'll be cautious. You just focus on training that human of yours properly. Watch your back. I don't understand your connection to this mortal," he admitted. “If you trust him, however, so will I.”

There was a small pause, “I think you two might even become friends if you gave MK a chance.” Xiaotian cooed.

Red Son scoffed, “Unlikely,”

After that, there was another pause, "He has a love for cooking, just like you,"

“One shared hobby would hardly dictate friendship.” Red Son pretended to mull over it. “Still, if you think that’s enough for me to tolerate him…”

Then, there was a cut in the conversation. It made Peng curious enough to risk peeking around the corner. They found they didn’t have to worry about being seen, as these two younglings seemed completely absorbed in the other.

Xiaotian was leaning close to Red Son, while Red Son gently caressed Xiaotian's face with care and attention.

Peng almost choked, eyes double in size and their feather’s puffing slightly. Oh. OH OH!

OH THEY KNEW IT!

THEY KNEW ITTTT!

Azure Lion owed Yellow Tusk and them SO much money!

Xiaotian’s voice was quiet, as if the boy himself didn’t realize how tender he sounded, “But it’s opens the door for you two to get closer.” he says with a secret smile, "You never know what might blossom from the smallest of shared interests~" a tease, so similar to how his own Baba spoke to his mate.

Red Son’s voice was weak, “I don’t see why I would waste my time to get along with him. What is so important about us getting along?”

“You two being friends would make me happy,” Xiaotian admits, a hand to Red Son’s chest. “My two favorite people getting along? Absolutely the best~” a simple but rather effective sentence, as it was clearly sending Red Son apart.

The boy fumbled for a response, the flush of his cheeks so clear, “So I am just a tool for your happiness now?” he quipped, his tone playful but with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. To be confirmed as the Monkey Prince’s favorite seemed to put the boy on cloud nine.

These disgusting little younglings. Peng could already feel the amount of gold Azure was going to hand them.

“Far more than a tool,” Xiaotian waved him off, adjusting the collar of Red Son’s shirt for him. “If you really don’t want to however, I won’t force you.” The boy knew what he was doing, even if he denied it later- a flirt as bad as his parents. Red Son clicked his teeth. Just like DKB, the Prince had no sense of denial to the object of his desire, “I will try.” he took Xiaotian’s hand to remove it, probably to stop Xiaotian from feeling his pulse… and also to just hold Xiaotian’s hand one more time, "I'll take my leave before your foolishness becomes contagious," he grumbled, revving the engine once more. With a casual salute, he peeled away into the night sky. Xiaotian waved goodbye to him as he left, lingering on the roof for a time.

Peng was pumping their fist in utter victory, feeling the urge to just strut out now and congratulate their Nephew. It was wonderful.

While they were not one for romantic relationships, the disgusting connection that it was, this was nothing but good news otherswise.

It would bring them and Yellow Tusk a large sum of money with a bet well won, and , the best part, it would PISS OFF WUKONG!! DBK too, of course, but Wukong was the focus here.

This was the best!!

Distracted by their own bubbling joy, Peng almost gave themselves away when the door opened a second time. A human boy walked out next, approaching Xiaotian with such casual ease that they must have known each other.

Yet, what Peng noticed most, chilled their joy and made it plummet. In the mortal boy’s hands was a staff- Wukong’s staff. He sauntered around with ease, the staff’s weight no consequence to him.

Peng had only ever seen Wukong, and in rare occasion, Macaque, lift the thing before.

They wanted to throw themselves out into view to demand to understand what was happening, but held back.

“Hey, I thought I might find you up here,” The mortal spoke. They were a bit taller then Xiaotian, with chocolate brown hair and a red head band to sweep back the messy locks. Their eyes a shimmering gold that Peng couldn’t seem to stop looking at.

Who was this??

Xiaotian turned with a bright smile, "Hey. Red Son just took off."

The human boy nodded, then rubbed the back of his head, "I uh… feel kind of guilty involving him in this. Got both of you involved.” he admits.

"Don't be silly," Xiaotian nudged the mortal playfully. "I’m the one who got you involved, not the other way around.” he glanced to the side, “It was my idea to show you the staff after all.”

The mortal cringed, "Yeah, I guess. But still..." He trailed off, watching the city lights dance across the skyline. “So, when do you want to start training me?"

A mischievous grin spread across Xiaotian's face. "What, you mean you don't want to jump right in tonight?" he teased, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "C'mon, let's see those sweet staff skills!"

The mortal laughed, shaking his head, “We haven’t even had dinner~!” he chuckled, stepping back when Xiaotian playfully swung at him. He ducked and spun the staff, catching his foot when he swung it. The two snickered, playfully throwing a few hits here and there.

Peng was speechless. This… This was unfounded? They expected Xiaotian- Xiaotian was the only logical sense, but this boy? Who was this boy?!

“This teacher you told me about really gave you a head start with this whole staff thing,” Xiaotian marveled. The mortal clearly wasn’t used to holding something that wasn’t a light stick, but was quickly adjusting to the difference. The only thing this young human seemed to lack was a… presence?

Peng couldn’t get a read on him. Not his smell, his power, nothing. That alone was odd. What sort of friend had their darling nephew made lately?

The human boy grinned as he twirled the staff around with practiced ease. "Yeah, my Angel really drilled me on a lot of different weapons and martial arts forms." He slid into a low stance, the staff whirling defensively in front of him. "But I've still got a lot to learn when it comes to actual combat."

Xiaotian nodded, eyeing MK's form critically. "Your foundation is solid," he acknowledged. "But channeling your aura and utilizing the staff's full capabilities will take some work." He rolled his shoulders back, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Like getting that thing to shrink and grow like you did before. My Dad always loved to use that to catch his enemies off guard.” he put his palm out, quickly pushing it pass MK’s defenses to rest to his chest.

The boy grunted a little, looking down at his palm. Peng watched carefully, noting his jacket, his face… his shoes. Red in color, and just like what Macaque had said Xiaotian was looking for.

Was this boy the one their nephew had been seeking?

Peng turned their eyes from the two, stunned. The boy could wield the staff and it’s abilities? If they really were connected to Xiaotian on some deeper level, that might explain it a little. They didn’t understand what this meant, yet… a strange part of them told them it was important.

Perhaps if Yellow Tusk was here, he could offer a better guess. Peng would have to inform him later to figure it out.

As the two continued to spar on the roof, Peng knelt down slow and careful, making sure not to make a sound. Taking out some paper and a pen from their bag, he had a feeling Wukong wouldn’t be far behind.

So much was going on, and Peng felt that if Wukong intervened now, they might never fully understand. So Peng made a decision.

As Peng wrote, they heard Xiaotian speaking, "We should probably head back inside and let your dads know we're not gonna trash the roof with our epic staff battle."

“Yeahhh,” the mortal laughed. As they began their stroll towards the roof's exit, Xiaotian suddenly clapped the mortal on the shoulder, causing him to stumble a tad. "What?” when he looked back at Xiaotian, had gone still.

Peng too turned their head.

Ah… He was here it seemed.

The Monkey King.

As they finished their little letter and sealed it into an envelope, he heard Xiaotian’s panicked squeaks, pleading for the mortal to be quiet of his presence. Then, he was ducking into the mortal’s shadow to hide.

And not a second too soon, for the King of the mountain was arriving.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #answer #lmk mk #taken au #lmk wukong #lmk oc art #fire thief #red son #Peng #xiaoxiao #Extra Taken Scene

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uzumaki-rebellion · 1 year ago

Text

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Chapter 11

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

"They're calling me, back to the stars

Deep out of space, they're calling me

Back to the stars

They found peace in the ocean (peace with the pain)

Now they guide my way, guide my way…"

Meshell N'Degeocello—"Virgo"

The Royal Talon Fighter approached the opening of Warrior Falls.

Okoye and Ayo scanned a twenty mile radius before flying over the valley of gushing water walls to the other side.

"Kumkani, I've found the hover bike…"

Ayo glanced over at the king who sat in a pensive position behind her. Okoye flew the aircraft lower to the base of the Falls as N'Jadka stood next to Ayo and looked at the viewscreen that projected the image of a broken hover bike floating in an undertow where it was caught between two boulders.

"No signs of Queen Yani," Ayo said with a soft tone.

N'Jadaka's jaguar suit swarmed around him and he tapped the opening of the circular floor exit. He dropped eighty feet and splashed into a deep plunge pool of cold black water. Below the surface he scanned for signs of life around the bike before dragging it onto land. A flash of pink caught his eye and he lunged for it in the water.

Yani's walking shoe. It was drenched and unmarked, unlike the damaged hover bike. She had to have fallen trying to fly over the giant falls. He quelled the rise in panic in his demeanor. She was alive somewhere. He willed it.

Okoye's voice broke through his reverie, loud and clear inside his face mask.

"There are no other traces of anything. That is a good sign," Okoye said.

N'Jadaka dove below and searched underwater. Yani had a strong body. If she were injured somewhere he would find her. He scanned for her kimoyo beads thinking they may have been snapped away from her wrist, but there was nothing.

Breeching the surface he leaped onto the land and surveyed the surroundings. Okoye and Ayo dropped down from the gravity tracking beam. Aneka stood watch over the Talon Fighter. High above, stinger aircrafts circled the sky.

"Kumkani…here…" Ayo said.

Footprints in the moist earth. He recognized the pattern of her sandals. The king gave a grateful sigh of relief. His wife was alive and somewhere out there searching for God knew what. It wasn't like her to disappear like that without telling him where she was. He stared at the height from which she fell and all the dangers that could've swallowed her up. Was she under the influence of something? Did someone…or something lure her away? He remembered the panther cubs he couldn't see back in Ekuqaleni. Did they trick her into coming here?

Worry knotted his brow.

Wakanda was still a wondrous and mysterious place to them both. Anything could've happened to her.

"Come on," he said.

They followed Yani's tracks until they came upon two more that were bigger compared to hers. They made deeper impressions in the mud and directly faced Yani's footprints. Men. She followed them willingly because there was no sign of struggle in the area.

They scanned and tracked until the ground changed into grasslands and decomposing leaves. The grass was so thick like shag carpet that it didn't even bend to give an indication of what direction they went.

"They're gone…can't find anymore markings," Ayo said, crestfallen.

"She's gotta be around here somewhere. Let's spread out for a mile and check in," He tapped his kimoyo bead, "Aneka, contact Dr. Chidubem discreetly and have him flown here in case the Queen has major injuries."

"Yes kumkani, right away," Aneka said in his earbuds.

N'Jadaka shook out his arms and charged into the mountain forest on high alert.

He had to find his wife and return her to his side.

Warm balmy water cascaded all over Yani's body as she stepped through the birth waters. The entrance of the oracle's cave hummed and vibrated and the sounds made her jumpy. Passing through to the other side led her to the tranquil natural pool of glowing turquoise waters with steam rising from it.

"You made it Queen Yani."

Yani recognized the voice of Jabulile.

The woman was dressed in a long green robe like the men that brought Yani there. She was alone and holding a folded royal blue robe.

"Please bathe in these waters, from head to toe. I will help you put on this robe when you are finished," Jabulile said.

"Where are the other two women that were with you?" Yani asked.

"With Nolwandle…the oracle. They are waiting for you in the interior of the womb. Please kumkanikazi…bathe."

Jabulile turned her back to give Yani privacy as she willingly stripped down. She dipped a toe in the water first, and it wasn't too hot. Submerging herself, she gave into the heat and liquid comfort. The water smelled like sweet perfumes and tingled all over her skin. Dunking her head below, she quickly rubbed herself down. The water reflected against the ceiling and walls of the cave. She noticed inscriptions written in a language other than Wakandan, with pictographs depicting waves and sea creatures painted with neon blue paint. Some images were carved into the walls and looked older and eroded in some places. The bandage on her wrist fell away, and so did the dull ache of pain she carried since the Falls.

Stepping out of the pool, Yani looked for a towel.

Jabulile turned around and unfurled the robe she carried.

"No need to dry yourself, put this on quickly…here, I'll take those bandages for you. Follow me this way please…"

Yani trailed behind Jabulile. The light source used to illuminate their way couldn't be pinpointed by Yani. The cave floor was soft black sand that didn't seem to belong to that particular ecosystem. Her robe swished at her feet and stuck to the wet parts of her body, contouring itself like a designer dress. They walked through a purple mist that swiped across her skin like spiderwebs breaking across her face and body. She waved her hands around only to find that it was a sensation only…nothing was on her skin.

Her eardrums throbbed with the pounding of the drums…no…they couldn't be drums. The two young women who had drums were too far away to emit the sound she heard right then. Yani tuned in closer and realized the sound was a heartbeat, as if the cave was a living thing pumping its heart in a soothing rhythm.

Strange.

Yani walked a normal rate of speed, but her body felt like it was slowing down.

"We are almost there Queen Yani," Jabulile said.

Jabulile's voice sounded far away, the way it would if Yani were deep underwater listening to speech high above her head. Her heart thumped faster and she inhaled air through her mouth to calm down her fear.

They reached a narrow opening where the two women Yani asked about, Khanyisile and Nolwazi, stood watch holding torches. Both women smiled, relief evident on their faces.

"Go through there and you will find her," Jabulile said.

The passageway was dark and had only enough room for one person to pass through at a time.

"By myself?" Yani asked.

All three women nodded.

"Do not be afraid Queen Yani. Mama Wati protects you," Nolwazi said.

Yani shook her fingers and stepped past the women into the foreboding passage. Darkness swallowed her and she heard her own breathing speed up. Claustrophobia threatened to paralyze her from moving on, but she swallowed thickly and mustered the courage to keep walking, even as her shoulders hit the sides of the unseen walls. Step by step. Inch by inch. Yani staggered through thirty yards of pitch black until her cone and rod cells worked again to detect light and movement ahead.

Her eyes adjusted.

A woman with skin the color of freshly made Jamaican black castor oil sat crosscrossed on a bright green rug with painted sea turtles and stingrays. Her hair was wrapped in a large seagreen headwrap and her neck was heavy with seashell necklaces and sun-yellow glass beads. She could've been thirty, or she could've been seventy, it was anyone's guess with Wakandan people. They aged gracefully and seemingly slow. Bright eyes the color of glowing jade in the center and dark amber at the edges peered at her with a welcome kindness.

"Queen Yani Udaku of the Black Panther Tribe…and the unofficial adopted daughter of the River Tribe…I welcome you home. Sit…right there…in front of me," the Oracle Nolwandle said.

Yani crossed her legs on the long green rug facing the oracle. Nolwandle sat and stared at Yani's face until the young queen squirmed her hips.

"You look the way my emissaries said you did…youthful and full of energy. Very beautiful. The king loves beauty I hear," Nolwandle said.

The oracle's unnatural jade-powered gaze pierced through Yani's defenses of trying to appear stoic and queenly. Sitting in front of her made Yani feel like a young child chatting with her grandmother.

"King N'Jadaka's energy can be felt all throughout the kingdom. He carries his ancestors well. They are strong on the other side. The king is on his way now to retrieve you. I can feel his worry over you."

"I don't want him to worry," Yani said.

"There is apprehension in your voice my queen. Mama Wati wants you to be at ease here."

"It's hard…I don't know what to expect…I don't know what to do…"

"Ease…my queen…breathe in deep…"

Yani inhaled and Nolwandle urged her to do more. Behind the oracle, a small fire burned inside a stone fireplace. To the oracle's left side was a wide opening in the cave that led to a river of water not found on any Wakandan map. A pile of stones held another fire that lit up the roof of the cave leading out into the open water where other large mountains touched one another leaving gaps for water to flow past. Part of the walls shined like the sparkling emerald water reflecting shimmery images dancing on the walls. The interior felt dark, warm and mysterious and the waterway hinted at sunshine and an upperworld.

"Breathe…yes…deeply…slowly…"

Nolwandle reached behind her and lifted a bundle of herbs tied with bright white string. She tossed them into the fire and it sparkled and puffed out dark blue smoke.

"Breathe daughter…yes…deeper still…allow the smoke to enter your lungs."

"Are you drugging me…it feels thick in my chest…" Yani gasped, clutching her throat.

"I am opening the path for us to travel. Mama Wati will partially lift the veil for you to receive the message meant for you…"

"I can't breathe…I'm having a hard time…oracle! Help me…I can't!" Yani choked out.

"The message is coming, daughter. Mama Wati has opened the veil…"

The unseen presence of an entity larger than the cave itself came first.

It its wake was a pressure, like an ocean's weight of water pressing down on Yani's body, threatening to flatten her. The pressure in her ears changed too. She clutched at her throat and yet Nolwandle remained calm, her lips moving but no sound coming out.

The presence wrapped itself all over the cave and a roar thundered in Yani's ears. She looked toward the placid water outside and a mammoth ocean wave rolled toward her in slow motion. Yani couldn't move, her lower body locked to the ground helpless and unprotected. She could still mover her head though.

"Nolwandle!" Yani shouted.

Yani glanced at the oracle again and the woman's head fell back. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth stayed wide open. Yani whipped her head to brace herself for when the wave would hit them, but it was gone. The opening was covered in a tranquil water barrier that made the outside scenery look blurry, fluid, and dreamy.

"Yani…"

A voice behind the water barrier came out of the oracle's mouth. Confused, Yani looked at Nolwandle again. Her mouth stayed agape and frozen in that position.

"Yani…JaJa's wife…"

Yani heard the voice come from the oracle, but it sounded like it was behind the water barrier too, as if it bounced out to use the oracle as its frequency to the human world. The queen rose from her seated position and walked toward the barrier. The shadowy outside world was there, rippling behind the veil.

Two figures walked forward.

Yani held her breath and waited until they stood before her. One was older and the other younger. Her breath hitched in her chest and she stumbled back, unable to believe her eyes.

The younger woman had fiery brown eyes and big ginger hair that crowned her head like a giant sunburst. Yani recognized the same freckles her son had. The older woman was shorter with an exquisite face etched with wisdom that matched the younger woman. Her hair was looser in texture and had faded streaks of light brown mixed in with white that was cornrowed in four thick braids going straight back. Yani knew right away the two women were related. Long pearl-white tunics shrouded their bodies.

"You know who I am. Don't you?" the younger woman said.

Yani nodded.

"Califia Stevens Udaku…N'Jadaka's mother."

"Yes…this is JaJa's great-grandmother, Nana Jean."

"Hello, ma'am," Yani said, instantly genuflecting to them both.

Nana Jean laughed and Califia joined her. The older woman held up a hand.

"We are family baby, you don't bow to us," Nana Jean said.

The presence pushed down on the cave and the water barrier vibrated, blurring the women from Yani's view.

"Califia!" Yani shouted.

Their images shimmered back into view seconds later. Yani wiped frantic tears away from her eyes, so terrified her mother-in-law and great-grandmother-in-law had vanished. Califia held her hand against the barrier. Yani raised hers to try and touch it. The cool blue kinetic liquid would not allow them to connect.

"I wish I could comfort you, Yani. Mama Wati has warned us. Bast is awake inside of my son. I'll have to speak quickly before we lose contact," Califia said.

Yani was spellbound by Califia, the woman's beauty staggered the imagination. She carried a vibrant charisma that was like N'Jadaka's times ten. No wonder Prince N'Jobu stayed away from his home and defied a nation. Califia was priceless.

"You're going to conceive a baby who is so important that they'll have the power to split the world into pieces in the future. I apologize having to sound so cryptic but I'm breaking so many rules to be here with you. I took what I could decipher from the realm of time in the spirit world with my limited understanding. Although I'm an ancestor now, Bast still shrouds us from telling humans too much."

"When?" Yani asked.

"Soon...two or three years at most from what little I could decipher from the time threads. A man is also coming there who will challenge my son for the world. I need for you to survive the war they may wage—"

"More war? In Wakanda?"

"War all over the world. You're the key to preventing their battle from consuming JaJa. If anything happens to that baby or you…my son will burn the world down and the future will become bleak for everyone on the planet even more than it is. Your baby must survive at all costs in order to claim their birthright and keep Wakanda secure years from now. That child will turn the nation into an empire. No matter the cost, it must happen!"

Califia stepped closer to the veil, unable to penetrate it. Her voice came from behind Yani through the oracle's mouth, but Yani focused on Califia's face.

"My son has lost too much in this world. I don't want him suffering again if I can warn you. I couldn't come to him because Bast would block me directly, so I had to come for you through Mama Wati," Califia said.

"I understand. I'll do all I can to protect our baby."

"Not just the one to come, but Riki and Joba too."

"Riki and Joba? What's going to happen to them?" Yani yelped.

The cave vibrated with the force of an earthquake. Califia and Nana Jean glanced behind them. Worry clouded their faces.

"Nothing will happen if you can prevent it," Califia said.

Nana Jean became agitated and looked over her shoulder again.

"We should leave now, Cali…Dayclean is coming," Nana Jean said, grabbing Califia's arm, pulling her back from the veil.

Califia gently patted her grandmother's hand, stood her ground, and locked eyes with Yani.

"Joba and Riki will be the ones to help the baby become what she needs to be in order to rule the future. But that future will face turmoil if none of them live once a foretold prophecy begins at your pregnancy. When Namor returns, be ready Yani. This is all I have to give you," Califia said.

"Namor," Yani repeated, searing the name into her mind.

"You must stay away from him…you and the children—"

"Califia!"

The booming voice of a distraught man flew out of the oracle's mouth making Yani jump. He appeared next to them in a long white tunic.

N'Jobu.

N'Jadaka's father.

Seeing N'Jadaka's parents together knocked Yani's knees. Never would she have dreamed of seeing them alive and looking so well from the other side. N'Jobu turned his kind eyes toward Yani.

"My daughter…Yani…you shouldn't be here with my wife or Nana Jean. Certain knowings belong to Bast, and only her. What you have heard is forbidden knowledge to that existence there. Your life must be lived with my son and grandchildren in ignorance," N'Jobu gently urged.

Califia shook her head and challenged her husband.

"No! I won't let that happen this time. Our son deserves happiness. Too much was stolen from him and I refuse to let anything be taken from him again. I don't care if I have to go against Bast or any other god to protect them."

N'Jobu put his arms around Califia. Her voiced raged from the oracle's open throat. N'Jobu's somber tone brought levity to Yani's predicament. Califia had gone above and beyond from the ancestral plane to reach her family. Her love bled through the water barrier and cloaked Yani with its comfort and legendary warrior spirit. Her willingness to defy gods was a trait Yani hoped she could live up to for her own babies.

N'Jobu gently scolded his wife.

"You have stolen free-will and burdened our daughter with fear and more confusion. That isn't fair to Yani. Now she will worry about our family needlessly," N'Jobu said.

The cave vibrated with the presence yet again. Mama Wati's collusion was weakening. N'Jobu held his wife lovingly as Nana Jean watched over them both.

"We must go back my love…please. JaJa will live a glorious life…"

"His children—"

"—will live out their destinies, whatever they will be, without interference from now on. Let them be…let them have their own lives. We are always here for them as a comfort and a reminder that life doesn't end at death."

"Yani," Califia said, still reaching for her daughter-in-law.

"You see death for us? Me and the children?" Yani asked.

Califia clutched at her temples and her mouth twisted into a horrid grimace. She appeared to be full of pain.

"Bast is jumbling up my mind…she's stealing the future threads from me…" Califia wailed.

"Califia!" N'Jobu cried out, grabbing her by the waist to keep her from falling.

A dark foreboding shadow loomed over them behind the veil in the shape of an enormous panther stalking tiny prey.

Bast.

"Forgive her Bast! Please!" N'Jobu shouted.

Bast's dark shadow scattered and floated away. Califia closed her eyes. Yani did the same as something slithery, warm, and invasive cleaved to her temporal lobe. The words of warning Califia gave her were plucked from her gray matter one by one until nothing was left. Yani struggled to grab onto anything, her brain synapses crackling with electrical impulses to store and hide any morsel. She was able to hold onto two words, and only because she sensed a benevolent shield from Mama Wati to allow her to grasp onto anything her mother Bast had culled from her mortal skull.

"It's gone, all of it. I can no longer see it," Califia said in a defeated tone.

Yani blanked out mentally as Bast swiped her mind clean too.

Nana Jean cradled Califia's face and N'Jobu nuzzled his nose against her cheek, comforting her. Soft footfalls from behind Yani captured her attention.

"Mom, Baba…"

N'Jadaka strode into the cavern with a shocked expression. Califia perked up and clung to N'Jobu's arm as she gazed at her beloved son.

"JaJa…your wife is fine. I needed to see her to tell her…." Califia glanced around trying to remember her thoughts.

N'Jadaka reached for Yani and pulled her into his chest.

"Thank the gods you're safe," he huffed into her hair. He kissed the top of her head and rocked her in his arms.

"I'm sorry I tricked you…I had to come. Your mother needed me."

N'Jadaka faced his parents. Their eyes shined bright with love for their only child. N'Jobu held Califia's hand.

"Nana?" N'Jadaka said, stepping closer to the water barrier to see his great-grandmother.

Nana Jean grinned. She swelled with pride at seeing her great-grandson as a grown man.

"Look at you… so big and handsome like your father. You did everything to hold onto our bond…my sweet great-grandson," Nana Jean said.

Pressure popped in Yani's ear. N'Jadaka experienced it too and winced like her.

"Leave here quickly son. You two aren't meant to be here like this. Your mother has been forceful as usual," N'Jobu said.

The water barrier rippled and the images behind the veil began to cloud and fade.

"Watch over each other, JaJa…love one another at all times," N'Jobu said.

N'Jadaka rushed the barrier and called to his mother. Califia gazed at him with a mixture of adoration and longing.

"Mom, why did you come to Yani?"

Califia's gaze fell upon Yani. The presence in the cave began to lift. N'Jobu tugged on Califia and Nana Jean to follow him back from where they came.

"Bast stole the memory from me, JaJa. I had it and she took it away. Yani, whatever I told you, hold onto it. I may never get to reach out like this again, but I want you both to know I tried my best to make life there good for you," Califia said. She gave N'Jadaka a winsome smile. "Take care of each other JaJa. We love you," Califia said.

Her voice sounded weary.

"Mom…Baba…wait…"

"We must go back, son. Feel us in your heart as always," N'Jobu said.

Nana Jean pressed her forehead against the barrier. N'Jadaka lined his forehead with hers and pressed against it.

"You have done well, JaJa. We are here with you at all times," Nana Jean said.

Califia blew Yani and N'Jadaka kisses and the water barrier snapped into a blurry whirlpool of foamy water. Yani turned to look at the oracle. The woman stayed in the same odd position with her eyes closed and mouth open.

"I soon come, Mama…Baba…"

A soft childlike voice came out of the oracle's mouth. It sounded like a toddler just learning to speak. It gave Yani chills, but not as much as seeing her body still sitting crossed legged in front of Nolwandle…with N'Jadaka sitting right next to her in the same position. Yani glanced back as a loud rumbling whooshing sound reverberated around them. The water barrier transformed itself into another mighty wave. It moved backward in slow motion beyond the mountain barrier. A strong force knocked Yani in her solar plexus and she gasped, finding herself punched back into her corporeal body still sitting cross-legged and staring at Nolwandle. The oracle's head fell forward and she closed her mouth, exhausted from the ordeal. Perspiration dotted her forehead and soaked her clothes. Her once glowing jade eyes had become a delicate dark brown since Mama Wati released her as a vessel.

N'Jadaka shook himself back into their side of the veil. Tears rested on his lids and Yani moved onto her knees and hugged him.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" Yani said repeatedly.

"It's okay. I found you and you're safe. You left for a good reason if my parents and great-grandmother sent for you."

Nolwandle shifted to her knees and bowed her head low to the ground, holding her folded hands toward N'Jadaka.

"I beg your forgiveness, kumkani. I was directed by Mama Wati that your mother and great-grandmother wished to see the queen. I am a mere servant of the divine. My intention was not to maliciously trick you or your wife but to service the needs of your ancestors," Nolwandle said with fear laced in her tone.

N'Jadaka looked Yani over.

"Did you hurt yourself? You fell didn't you?"

"Yes," Yani said. "I may have fractured my wrist, but it feels better."

"I sent for Dr. Chidubem. He's on his way here to look you over."

Yani turned to the oracle.

"Thank you, Nolwandle. I appreciate everything you had to go through to help me."

"Blessings to you, Queen Yani. I pray that the message you received is one that will please you and prepare you for what is to come."

Yani shook her head in disappointment.

"I'm afraid I made this journey for nothing and your body suffered needlessly. Bast took away my memory of the message. Mortals can't know the future."

"Baby, it's okay," N'Jadaka said trying to soothe her depressed mood.

"I have been instructed to prepare the queen's body by Mama Wati."

"What are you going to do?" N'Jadaka asked.

Nolwandle stood and shuffled over to the fire where she lifted two wooden bowls. She brought them to Yani and placed them on the rug. She pulled a small stool out and planted herself in front of the queen.

"May I?" Nolwandle asked, pointing to Yani's damp robe.

Yani nodded and Nolwandle opened it wide revealing the queen's nakedness. Lifting a brush from the first bowl, the oracle painted a ring of blue waves around Yani's belly button that soaked into her skin like a tattoo marking. She then switched bowls and painted a different ring of twisty swirls in light green around the first ring.

"There. When you return to your honeymoon time, rub oil over them every night. The color will soak into the pigment of your skin deeper. This is your talisman, Queen Yani. Mama Wati has marked you as one of her own. When the time comes these markings will reveal their true intent. Walk out of this womb of the world with your purpose intact."

Yani clutched the oracle's hands.

"I heard a voice come out of you…a young voice…a child."

"I can only transmit, not translate what is for your ears only, kumkanikazi," Nolwandle said.

Yani's lips turned down in disappointment.

"It was our baby," N'Jadaka said.

He stroked Yani's hand. She stared at him.

"My parents came to me after their funeral ceremony…that time I was late coming to the repast at your lake front home…when we were apart. My mom said I had a child coming that I had to show a lot of grace to because she would need it. I felt the energy in that voice when I heard it, Yani. That was our child…speaking to us."

Yani trembled and lowered her head, the knowledge unnerving her. To hear her baby's voice before she was even planted in her womb or even born yet astounded her. The child called to her.

I soon come.

Yani slumped into N'Jadaka's arms and cried. All her fear and worry about the journey to Warrior Falls jolted her emotions. His parents loved her. Watched over her and their grandbabies. His great-grandmother knew who she was and came to bear witness in defiance of a deity. She wept and her husband held her in his warmth and understanding.

N'Jadaka tied the robe back around her and guided Yani away from the oracle. Her wrist felt a little tender, but the pool water helped her endure the slight discomfort longer.

"You go through first," N'Jadaka said when they reached the dark passageway again.

Yani walked through with assured steps. She was proud that she completed her task. Even prouder that N'Jadaka's amazing mother reached out for her, trusting that Yani would heed her words one hundred per cent without hesitation. She waited for the king to join her out of the passageway and they met Okoye and Ayo waiting for them with the three women emissaries.

"Thank you, Jabulile, Khanyisile and Nolwazi," Yani said.

The three woman bowed low to her and N'Jadaka. They passed through to the outside and the two Uyakhusela's greeted them.

"Peaceful journeys to you both," the men said in unison.

The Doras walked ahead of them and N'Jadaka clasped Yani's hand tight and kept them in one spot out of earshot of their security. He exhales softly.

"I'm blessed and happy you got to see them…speak to them."

"Is Bast furious?" Yani said, ready to shrink back into the forest if the goddess set a bush on fire or struck her down with a plague.

N'Jadaka touched his chest and closed his eyes.

"Displeased. But not with you. Mama Wati is her daughter and they have to deal with their family squabbles on that side of the spiritual plane," he joked.

He touched her wrist and looked it over.

"Does it hurt when I touch it?"

"Not as much as before."

"Crazy girl," he teased

He tapped his kimoyo beads.

"Aneka, come get us. You have my coordinates," he said.

"Dr. Chidubem will be arriving soon," Aneka said.

"We'll meet him halfway," he said.

N'Jadaka brought Yani to an open clearing and the Royal Talon Fighter lifted them up high into air. They flew for an hour and stopped halfway to their destination when a quad stinger arrived ferrying Dr. Chidubem to them. He took Yani to the back of the Talon Fighter and injected her wrist with nano bots that stitched her fractured wrist back together. She swallowed painkillers to dull down a fading ache. Dr. Chidubem's short graying locs reminded Yani of Baba Z.

"You'll be good as new in no time Queen Yani."

"It wasn't as bad as I thought," she said.

"Hairline fracture."

They thanked the doctor and bid him farewell after he pumped Yani full of vitamins and electrolytes for good measure. It didn't take long to get back to Umbono Lake and their peaceful houseboat.

Alone once more, N'Jadaka pampered Yani, feeding her a hearty lunch and insisting that she rest after a long warm shower. He rubbed almond oil on her scalp and slathered fresh cocoa and coffee butter all over her naked form, paying special attention to the new markings on her belly. She slipped on a bikini afterward.

"That paint is like ink," Yani said, rubbing her shiny belly.

N'Jadaka made them tea and snuggled with her in their loft bed. The boat gently rocked with the small wind currents. Intense relief rested her husband's body as he held her against him tight. He had been frightened without her being with him. That man could face any evil killer or terrorist without blinking an eye, but not having her near was his only true weakness.

She caressed his face.

"We heard our baby," she said.

His eyes glinted with unshed tears.

"We did," he said.

"We'll have to prepare—"

N'Jadaka took his index finger and held it over Yani's lips.

"I don't want you thinking about anything but getting well and resting. We have a honeymoon to enjoy and I want to live it up without prepping for another baby."

"What? This coming from the man who gets aroused simply thinking about putting a baby in me every time we make love?"

N'Jadaka gave a sly cheesy grin.

"Yeah…I want to make another baby…but…actually hearing the voice of my future daughter reminds me that we'll have four kids to raise. Thinking of it as a hypothetical was cool, but shit switches up when you hear your child's voice. Damn…like my daughter spoke to me. Half of her is still in my nutsack and the other half is still in your ovary…that shit is crazy. Yo, Ma…the fuck? We livin' in wild times girl."

N'Jadaka laughed and his eyes became shiny with the wonderment of it all.

Yani's gaze darted away from N'Jadaka's well-meaning focus. She saw things through the oracle that regular people would never experience. Gods, ancestors, and spiritual realms could come and go in her new world. She heard the voice of her baby, and the unborn child sounded confident and sure. A little girl, too. A girl who would grow up loved beyond measure by her parents and siblings. Something had to be very special about her if Mama Wati permitted her to speak to them from the other side. And just maybe, it was the reason Califia felt it so urgent to seek out Yani without Bast's permission.

Was this how Mary felt when the archangel came to her and said she would birth Jesus?

Yani shook her head at the sacrilege she skirted with her heavy Christian upbringing. Who was she to compare her unborn baby to Jesus. Thee Jesus from the bible.

And yet…

A goddess came for her and opened up a holy realm for Yani to speak to the dead and to also hear an unborn baby. This was the stuff that prophets wrote in holy scripture. Was she not a child of Mama Wati? Wasn't that what the oracle said?

God put her on the path to have that baby with N'Jadaka.

Yani stared out of the window at the water. A slight pressure on the back of her head toggled something loose in the deepest recesses of her mind.

She remembered two things from Califia. Two things Mama Wati hid from Bast in Yani's mind to keep it from totally slipping away.

Prophecy.

And a name.

Namor.

Yani put everything together quickly. Their unborn daughter had to be fulfilling a prophecy Califia had come to tell her about. But the name? Namor. It felt familiar in Yani's gut, and it most definitely gave her a shudder throughout her body thinking about it. A residual reminder of its importance maybe…or a warning. Something hidden and sticky in her mind would not let her forget that name. It sat on her tongue inside a tightly closed mouth. If she just mentioned the name to N'Jadaka, maybe he could help her figure out the meaning of it. N'Jadaka stroked her cheek.

"I can see you fretting about something from the cave," he said.

She nodded, knowing she could never hide anything from him. Not even her private thoughts. Her emotions welled up deep inside. She witnessed a profound gift and it still lingered over her.

"Baby…don't cry. That shit messes me up when you do."

Her lips trembled and she shut her eyes tight.

"Your mother was so beautiful. And your Dad…he was so sweet and kind, so royal…and your Nana…she loves you all over," Yani said.

N'Jadaka broke out into a delighted smile, even as happy tears leaked from his eyes.

"I'm happy for you, Yani. I wished they could be here to meet you, and Mama Wati made it happen. A part of me even thinks Bast let it happen because, trust me baby, Bast does not play."

"She seemed so angry to me."

"Or maybe she needed you to feel that anger out of love to leave well enough alone. This world we live in now, nothing is ever what it seems on first glance. All of this was your journey Yani. Do with it what you want."

"I remember only two things your mother told me. I want to say them to you. If you don't want to hear them because Bast may act out, I'll respect your choice."

N'Jadaka gathered his own thoughts by gazing out at the water.

"My mother told me I was going to live a long and glorious life. That means that you and our children are with me because that is my blessing. Nothing can change that if she said it," he said.

Yani rose from lying on his chest and held his hands in hers.

"Do you want to know the words and what I think they mean?" she asked.

"Tell me."

"Prophecy. I think our daughter is going to fulfill the prophecy of the River Tribe. It only makes sense as to why Califia would do what she did to speak to me. She wanted us to get ready for her. That baby has to be special, destined for some greater purpose in the future."

"I'm down with that. Mom did ask me to be ready for her before."

"Okay…the next thing. Namor."

Yani studied her husband's face carefully. His eyes seemed to bulge in their sockets when she said it, and his entire frame went rigid.

"You know that name," Yani said.

"My mother said, Namor?"

"Yes."

N'Jadaka stared through Yani as if he was watching something of great importance play out.

"Who is that person?"

"A mutant I met some time ago. A dangerous person who rules an empire under the sea," he said.

The word "empire" tipped something in Yani's mind, but it shambled away before she could hold it for closer introspection.

"I think those two things are connected somehow. I wish Bast hadn't wiped everything away in my head."

N'Jadaka stood and cracked his knuckles. His concentration lingered outside. The sky was a beautiful azure with not a cloud in sight. He glanced back at Yani.

"Namor's name can't be spoken outside of us, Yani. I'm upholding an agreement that King T'Chaka made with him thirty years ago."

"You've met him?"

"I have. He looks human, but he has wings on his feet and flies. His strength is ten times of any human and he can breathe underwater and on land. He and his people have killed thousands to keep their existence hidden. They also have vibranium."

Yani jumped off the bed.

"How?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka sat back down on the bed and Yani planted herself next to him.

"Well, it fell from the sky. Apparently a chunk of it broke off hitting our atmosphere and some of it landed in the ocean near where he is from. They call themselves the Talokanil. Namor's true name is K'uk'ulkan. It means Feather Serpent God in their language. He and his people have powers that…well, just imagine every person in Wakanda having the powers of the Black Panther. That's how powerful they are. We don't even know how many of his people live down there. I've got enough problems dealing with motherfuckers on land, I don't need no shit starting with an unknown entity like that. Hell, there might be more mutants down there with him."

"That's it then. That's what your mother wanted me to know. Namor and our baby are tied together somehow."

"I hope to Bast they aren't. We don't need that smoke coming our way. Humans I can deal with. I've whooped alien ass and plenty of warlords…but Namor. I will continue to act like he doesn't exist."

He wiped the creases in her forehead away.

"Don't worry your pretty head about nothing Yani. We make the future we want, especially with that new little one waiting on us," he said.

He sounded confident. Yani believed him. He rested the side of his face against hers.

"If my mom is aware of Namor then I will be vigilant in keeping him far from Wakanda. Nothing can harm us if my mother and great-grandmother are looking out for us."

Yani touched her stomach. She and N'Jadaka traced their fingers on the colorful blue and green designs.

"How about we call the three munchkins we already have?" he suggested.

Yani tapped her beads quickly, yearning to see her royal brood. She leaned into her husband before the children's images popped above her wrist.

"I'm truly so sorry I scared you," she said.

"It's over and done with. I have you back. We're good, Yani."

"Hi Mama! Hi Baba! Look how Auntie Twyla did my hair today," Sydette said, twirling around showing off her artfully braided hair.

"She did mine too!" Joba chimed in, touching the braided tips of her long tresses.

"Looks nice, girls," N'Jadaka said.

Riki stared at them with a grumpy look on his face. His hair was braided in the same style as Joba's and Sydette's.

"You don't like your cornrows, Dumpling?" Yani asked.

"Auntie always does our hair all the same. A prince should have a different style," Riki grumbled.

Sydette ran her fingers over his hair that touched down to his shoulder blades.

"It's getting so long and he's mad because his friends said he looks like a princess," Sydette teased.

Riki rolled his eyes.

"I like your hair long, Dumpling," Yani insisted.

"Baba's hair is long too," Joba said, trying to encourage her brother to like his braids.

"Mama, what's that on your stomach?" Sydette asked.

Yani looked past her bikini top, forgetting she was resting in a swimsuit.

"I'm trying out some body art," Yani said.

Sydette looked at Yani's stomach and then waved her hand at Joba and Riki.

"Go get your sketch pads…you both left them on the desk," Sydette said.

Joba and Riki scampered off and returned holding up their separate sketch pads.

"Mama, look," Joba said, "your body art looks like this," Joba said.

"And this," Riki said with surprise in his voice.

Yani and N'Jadaka looked at the pictures closely, then stared at one another.

"When did you make those?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Yesterday," Joba said.

"Before we went to Umama's suite," Riki added.

Joba's picture, drawn with the careful flourishes she was known for doodling when designing her fairy garden looks, was an exact match of Yani's blue body waves. Riki's drawing was close to a perfect match of the green swirls of the outer ring.

"Have you drawn anything like that before?" N'Jadaka asked them.

"Is something wrong?" Joba asked, sensing the odd tone of her father's voice.

"No, I'm just amazed that you both created something like this so similar to Mama's marking."

"The green lady showed us how to do it," Riki said, looking over his own design on his mother's belly.

"The green lady?" Yani asked.

"Yes, Umama took us to the museum yesterday," Joba said, "We had our sketch books with us. Riki and I saw her sitting on the floor in front of a painting we were trying to copy with our new art pens, and she showed us how to make this instead," Joba said.

"Why do you call her the green lady?" N'Jadaka asked.

Joba shrugged. "She had on all green…and her eyes were kinda green too. She said that the waves and swirls are symbols used to represent the ocean in Birnin S'Yan…that was the painting we were trying to copy. It had a big ocean wave. Umama wanted us to see it since it's a very famous painting in Birnin Zana. It's called "The Mother of Waters" and was made in 1546. See?"

Joba swiped the image of the oil painting for her parents to see.

"Holy Bast," N'Jadaka said.

Yani covered her mouth. She recognized the wave. It looked exactly like the one that rolled into Warrior Falls. The one that brought the water barrier and allowed Califia to see them.

"Well, that is some amazing work you two. Sydette did you sketch anything?" Yani said, trying to move the conversation elsewhere. Riki and Joba began to look concerned about their sketches and the way their parents looked at them.

"No, I was trying my hand at photography. Umama let me wander and practice lighting and shadow techniques. She was my subject for most of my pictures. I have some very nice ones she wants to frame."

"That's super cool, Sweet Pea," N'Jadaka said.

"Can't wait to see you all," Yani said.

"Will we get to wear body art too?" Sydette asked.

"Maybe," Yani said.

"We'll call you guys back in a couple of days, okay?" N'Jadaka said.

All three children nodded and blew their parents kisses before winking out. Yani stood in front of N'Jadaka.

"It had to be an avatar. There's no way the oracle could've been in Birnin Zana yesterday. Sydette didn't say that she saw anyone and no Dora would let a stranger approach our children like that," Yani said.

"I wouldn't put it past my mother to try and reach our children. They were meant to know these symbols too."

"They didn't seem scared at all."

"Not until they read our body language and the tone of our voices," he said.

N'Jadaka pulled back the covers and helped her get into bed once more.

"More rest for you," he said.

"Everything will be okay, won't it?"

"It will, baby...it will. No god would bring us this far and let us lose what we have now."

Yani accepted his doting on her for the rest of the night. She closed her eyes and knew she could face anything with Califia Stevens Udaku in their corner from the ancestral plane. Tucking Namor into a faraway nook in her memory bank, the Queen of Wakanda slumbered well.

And so did her husband.

Chapter 12 HERE.

Taglist:

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#King Killmonger #King Killmonger The Golden Jaguar #Black Panther Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever Fanfiction #Killmonger Fanfiction #Uzumaki Rebellion #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #Pantherverse

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levi-venn · 6 months ago

Text

Pirate Droids of the Onyx Cinder

Chapter 2: Circuit n' Soul

Characters: K-2SO and SM-33

Summary: After being rescued from the ruins of Scarif, K-2SO finds himself in Port Borgo. K-2SO kriffing HATES Port Borgo...

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | | Ch5 Part One | Ch5 Part Two | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 (Coming Soon!)

Available on AO3

There was a 28% chance that K-2SO would survive Port Borgo.

As K-2SO calculated this, a weequay flew out of a cantina window, landed on a group of jawas who swarmed him, robbed him, stabbed him, and scurried off into the crowd.

There was now a 17% chance that K-2SO would survive Port Borgo.

The starport was a cesspool of humanoid vices. Cramped vendor carts of stolen goods, thick clouds of smoke from over cooked meat and speeder bike exhaust. Neon signs lured customers in with the promise of winning gambits, cheap liquor, and flesh-related desires. The air was hot and hazy and K-2SO decided to shut his olfactory sensors off for this trip. He didn't want to know what a pirate planet smelled like.

There was also the small issue of being nothing but the head at the mercy of the weirdest droid ever stored in his database.

“Welcome to Port Borgo,” SM-33 proclaimed.

“It doesn't feel very welcoming,” K-2SO replied.

“Aye, it isn't,” SM-33 replied gravely. “Best to keep yer head on a swivel here. Uh…well when ya get a neck, that is.”

“You're going to find me a body here ?!” K-2SO saw clunky loader droids wearing bandoliers, an astromech in a bandana, and…was that a B1 with metal mohawk?!

“Do not give me a B1 body,” K-2SO warned.

“Beggars shouldn't be choosers, Essoh.”

Essoh?! What sort of nickname is that? Cassian called him Kay. This droid can't even develop a proper nickname!

Fear prickled Kay's circuits. He hadn't felt this helpless since his first glimmer of sentience under the crushing thumb of the Empire.

“If you could not hold me like a hutt ball, I would very much appreciate it,” he snipped.

“Oh sorry , yer majesty,” SM-33 said. He shifted Kay's head up, perching him on his shoulder. “Want me to get a fluffy pillow for ya instead?”

“If you have one, it would be preferable,” Kay shot back.

SM-33 laughed. “You're a feisty one, aintcha.”

“I am not feisty.”

“Dontchu worry, l’il Prince, we're gonna find ya a body that suits yer fancy tastes.”

“Your confidence is hardly encouraging.”

“Cap’n Rennod always said I had an eye for optimism,” he laughed raucously. “Get it? Cuz I only got the one eye.”

“Why don't you just install another?”

“Nah, only need the one. No need for another lest it be a shinin’ ruby or a glitterin’ emerald. Fierce and opulent, that's the kinda Pirate King I'll be.”

“A pirate king?! That's quite a lofty goal.”

“Well, like Cap’n always said-”

“This Rennod seemed to say quite a lot,” Kay snipped again.

SM-33 didn't laugh it off like Kay expected. He went very quiet. “Aye…that he did. Full of wisdoms he was.”

Perhaps Kay had misstepped, so to speak. It was obvious Rennod was dead. SM-33 was alone without a human to be his guiding light. An all-too-familiar feeling.

“Tell me,” Kay said. “What did Rennod always say about lofty goals?”

SM-33 held up a finger and shook it. “Never set your dream up on the lowest cloud.”

That made no sense to Kay, but he decided not press it.

SM-33 dragged his heap of scavenged junk towards a droid depot made up of three Corellian Freighter shipping containers stacked one on top of the other. The off-kilter balancing act would've looked like a modern Chandrilan design if it wasn’t covered in grime, grease, and skittering bilgerats.

The inside wasn’t much better. In fact, it was every droid’s nightmare to end up in a place like this. Crates filled with IG-series legs, protocol droid arms. Display cases of lenses, scomps, and mandibles. Restraining bolts...so many restraining bolts piled in a bucket. SM-33 stopped just in front of a wall full of torsos.

Kay couldn’t move and he couldn’t look away. He wanted to do both…very quickly.

“Get me out of this droid chop shop!” Kay shouted.

“Chop shop!” Oinked a voice nearby. SM-33 turned towards a small being that was head and shoulders deep in a loader droid body. “This ain’t no chop shop, buddy.” He wiggled his way out of the torso revealing an old ugnaught with tufts of white, wiry hair above his ears, an upturned snout and curled tusks decorated with iron rings. He pointed a spanner right at Kay. “A chop shop’s what you’d expect outta Benjar Pranic’s droid butchering business. I gotta legit enterprise here for droids over here.

“Don’t pay him no heed, Master Skrapp, he’s sore because he’s minus a body.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Skrapp said, approaching Kay, his snout wiggling as if sniffing out Kay’s make and model.

“I’m a KX-series and I would like a KX-series body.”

“Don’t we all,” Skrapp snorted wistfully. “Those KX builds were real beauts. I used to be a maintenance worker on Coruscant and lemme tell ya, they hardly needed a tune-up. That craftsmanship was top notch…”

“Thank you,” Kay said, basking in the complement of his former body.

Skrapp scratched at his stubbly chin, smearing grease on his pinkish skin. He looked down at the junk from Scarif SM-33 brought with him. “How much you got on ya besides this, Thirtythree?”

Kay was about to order SM-33 not to disclose that information when SM-33 said. “That depends on what yer offerin’.”

At least he has some sense, Kay thought.

“I got the makings of a body, but it’ll cost ya. It’ll be worth every credit you can scrounge.”

“Show me,” Kay demanded.

Skrapp kicked a pedal that could’ve passed for just another piece of shrapnel in this trash heap. The false wall opened up revealing a second workshop. The area was cleaner here, sheltered from the dirt of new clients and old parts.

These droid parts were shiny and new, as if straight off the line and ready for assembly in some rich Core World factory.

“Where did they come from?” Kay asked.

“Intercepted on their way to Lexrul by the Rowdy Ranger a few months back. Not technically for sale, I’m holding them for Captain Copperclaw until we can find a fence that can move ‘em properly. You give me enough credits and I can take the parts they won’t miss and make your buddy a new body.”

“I'm getting leftover parts ?" Kay balked.

“It's either that or the protocol droid body I got out front. I don't got any other bi-pedals ready to go and the loader droid I'm fixing today is a friend.” Skrapp shrugged. “Trust me, buddy, this is the best you’re gonna get.”

“Aye, he speaks true, Essoh,” SM-33 said. “Ain’t nobody in this port treat droids better than ol’ Master Skrapp here.”

If he had lips like Cassian, he would’ve curled them suspiciously. “Forgive my skepticism,” Kay said. “But I saw the container of restraining bolts in the front room. That does not seem very droid friendly to me. How do I know you won’t enslave me the moment I’m switched off, or SM-33 for that matter?”

“Oh, those?” Skrapp snorted and walked to the front room. He returned with a handful of bolts and tossed them casually at SM-33.

“Smee!” Kay shouted at the big lunkhead who did not move.

“Smee? Who ya callin’ ‘Smee’?” SM-33 asked, then looked down at the bolts on his chest. Unphased, he plucked them off one by one and handed them back to Skrapp.

“They’re fake,” Skrapp said. “Droid liberators come in sometimes and ask for them. Helps their droid crew infiltrate mines and shipyards, swap out the real and fake bolts and walk the droids out without an open revolt.

“I’ve…never heard of such a thing,” Kay said.

“Don’t happen as often as it should,” SM-33 said. “But that’s the galaxy for ya. We droids gotta stick together yeah? And stick with meatbags like Master Skrapp to help us along.

Skrapp leveled himself to look right into Kay’s face. Kay could see the deep lines of age and hard labor in his skin, but his eyes were large and brown and soulful like Cassian’s used to be. Kay locked gazes with the ugnaught. “I’m good at what I do, buddy. If you’re gonna trust anyone on this port, trust SM-33 that he came to me and not to Pranic’s junkyard. You’d sell for a lotta credits, but it’s clear you’re important enough that Thirtythree’s spending credits on you instead of turning a profit. Is that right, thirtythree?”

“Aye,” SM-33 confirmed. Kay couldn’t be sure but he thought he sensed SM-33 tighten his grip on his head.

“I suppose,” Kay relented, slightly.

“Can I switch you off, Kay? I promise when you wake up, you’ll feel a lot better.”

Kay’s eyes flickered and he tried desperately to look around to find a way out of this horrifying situation. But he was a disembodied head at the mercy of others.

This was it for him. This must be the end.

It was one thing to die for Cassian’s cause. To help his Captain succeed in what needed to be done. It felt good to have purpose in the end as he fended off troopers to save Cassian.

This ending though…he was in the hands of strangers, of potential enemies, of…

Of…

“Essoh? You okay?” SM-33 asked.

Kay realized he hadn’t been switched off yet. Skrapp and SM-33 were waiting for his answer. For his permission to switch him off .

The world spun for a moment as SM-33 lifted Kay up to his face. “I’ll be here when ye wake. It'll be alright.”

Not even Cassian asked his permission. Kay did as he was told, but he was happy to do so. He would've done anything for the Captain who freed him.

“Just get it over with,” Kay said, snippily.

A few moments later, the world switched off, images collapsing in on themselves until nothing existed.

The last sound Kay heard was SM-33’s voice.

“Take good care of him, eh? He’s my crew.”

***

In a flicker of a moment, Kay returned.

His senses were jumbled, struggling to identify and calibrate the number of new parts now connected to his system. A confusing but exciting prospect considering he could feel nothing at all when SM-33 revived him on Scarif.

His vision was the first sense to come back.

Funny…when he woke up on Scarif, the galaxy was a low resolution hell hole, but now…

…well, it was still a hellhole, but the shape of the hell hole was in a high definition resolution, the fuzzy edges gone and he could focus on the world around him at lightning speed. He could see…every spot of muck and rust on the ceiling above him, the glare of the lamp looming over him, and shadows of two figures beside him.

His voice was second to return. “What happened?”

SM-33 suddenly appeared, blocking the lamplight. “Welcome back, Essoh! Yer gonna love the new you!”

“We’ll see,” Kay said.

“Take it slow,” Skrapp warned and used hooks chained to the ceiling to lift him upright. He then guided Kay to turn and stand on his new legs and climbed up to release the chains from his shoulders and torso.

Something was…familiar and yet off about this new design.

“What…is this?” He asked, holding up his hand. It was far less shiny and chrome than the parts on the back wall. Rust red connector joints and dark gray plates covered his arms and hand. He twitched his long fingers and they broke apart into various tools, scomps, spanners, spinning connectors.

Kay panicked.

“What is this?” He asked again and his other hand did the same, producing fingers one minute, then a variety of tools the next, retracting and extending faster than Kay knew how to control.

“Whoops, hang on there, let me just…” He felt Skrapp grab the back of his shoulder and plug something into his neck port. His connection to his hands sparked then sputtered, and finally quieted. A clear understanding of the variety of tools he was now capable of producing flooded his circuits. The tools contracted one by one as he learned how to control them and his hands returned to normal.

He looked down at his torso. It was far more narrow than he was used to. There were distinct chest plates and a geometric abdomen, thick cords connected his chest plate to his hips. Although the cords seemed to give him more flexibility - he actually could turn quickly to look behind him - he also felt more exposed. His legs were the same dark gray plates and rust red joints as the rest of him. Surprisingly well-matched but not… shiny.

“I thought you were going to use the new parts for me?” Kay asked, taking a shaky first step towards the mirror at the far end of the workshop.

“We did,” Skrapp said. “But I also repainted it for your sake. You’ll stick out like a metal thumb on a human hand if you walked out of here shiny and chrome.

“I picked yer colors,” SM-33 said, proudly, leaning beside the long mirror. “Fierce colors, they are!”

Kay approached the mirror. He clenched his fist. "Maker, this is awful."

He was shorter than a KX Droid, narrower as well. His shoulders less broad and his waist slender and those damn cords made him look like he was begging to be stabbed. There was a large metal pack on his back and he turned around to look at it. “And what is this ? I didn’t ask to be fused to this? What did you do to me?”

Skrapp sighed. “No appreciation for artistry eh? K-2SO, this is your lucky day and you don’t even know it.” He stood beside Kay and tapped his parts with his wrench. “You got top of the line SD-K4 assassin droid legs and arms built for speed and resiliency. This here is a Mark IV Architect torso which is durable and flexible that’ll last in any weather conditions you can throw at it. And your hands are a combination of Mark IV and BD-series parts. You can slice any module of any type so long as you know how to work around Republic codes, which considering you used to be a KX-series, you'll find Republic Codes are easier to hack than the Imperial variety. And this…” He tapped the metal pack on his back. “I threw this in because I owe SM-33 a favor. Flex your shoulders - back and up.”

Kay did as he was told and his circuits came alive with understanding as two arms burst out of the hidden compartments, one arm ended in a four taloned hand, the other ended in a buzzsaw that cut violently at the air.

Kay stood stunned.

His extra arms moved around at his will, clawing and hacking the air. Ready to fight. Ready to protect. Ready for anything.

He wasn’t built for security details and boring patrols. He wasn’t even built to follow human orders.

He was built to be…whatever he wanted to be.

“I think his majesty likes it,” SM-33 declared.

“Don’t call me that,” Kay said, then tucked his extra arms back in. He bent his legs and moved his arms. He felt light and fast and free. He had an odd urge to run . He never had that urge before. Running for him meant long, lumbering strides that were faster than a human, but took too much time for Kay’s liking. Now…now who knows what speeds he could achieve.

“This is unexpected,” Kay relented, looking down at the ancient ugnaught beside him. “Thank you for remaking me.”

Skrapp’s entire face wrinkled with his smile. “Always glad for a happy customer! SM-33’s got ya all paid up, and if you two need anything else, you just come back and I'll gussy you up!”

“Look at ya!" SM-33 clapped a hand on Kay's shoulder. "You look like you could pull the nose off an X-Wing.”

Kay extended the saw appendage again, revving it made a very satisfying vroom noise. “I think I actually could. Do you have one handy to test it out?”

SM-33 laughed. “That’s the spirit! We’ll find ye somethin’ to chop soon, but now…we celebrate. How’d ya like an oil bath? I’m buyin’.”

An oil bath in the dirtiest corner of the galaxy sounded like the worst idea he had ever heard. Then again, he thought he was never going to survive a place like Port Borgo, or find allies here that actually…helped him.

“I’ll get it set up for you two,” Skrapp said and climbed the metal staircase leading up to the next shipping container floor.

“For both of us? ” Kay said, indignantly.

SM-33 wrapped an arm around Kay’s now narrow shoulders and gave him a hearty” shake. “Ain’t no better way to bond between droids. A Port Borgo oil bath will clean yerself out circuit n’ soul.”

“Circuit and soul,” Kay said dryly, barely believing in the concept of a “soul”. “Is that something your Captain Rennod said?”

“Nope!” SM-33 said, lumbering towards the stairs. “That’s a quote from yer new Captain!”

Kay didn’t follow.

He was now fully capable of using his new weaponized arms to slice and dice his way out of this situation, find his own ship, and fly away to…wherever he damn well wanted.

His shoulder twitched at the thought of it.

Yet, something caught his eye in the mirror. There was a drawing on the back of his metal pack. A sloppily painted rusty red cog with a scomp and a saw arm crossed beneath it. It struck him in a most unexpected way.

A cog…

He started his existence with a white cog of the Empire stamped on him showing ownership.

He followed Cassian with that same cog, a tool used to help aid a Rebellion that barely recognized him as free.

But the white cog was now gone. And this cog...

...Rust red to match his joints, armed with a saw that could protect him, and a scomp to manipulate the world around him as he saw fit.

This cog wasn’t a symbol as being part of a machine for humanoids to take advantage of…this was a Master cog to link to others like him, to make their own machine.

He looked at SM-33 and realized the droid had the exact same design freshly painted on his back as well. Identical in every way.

“If you wanna be a Rebel,” SM-33 had told him. “ Ain’t no better way than pilot yer own pirate ship with no master to hold ya back.”

SM-33 paused at the stairs. “Ya comin’, Essoh?”

Kay looked out at the chaos of Port Borgo and wondered if he'd ever get used to this life.

Maybe not, but it was a life he could make his own.

He turned back to SM-33. “If you call me Kay, Captain, I will.”

#skeleton crew #star wars skeleton crew #sm-33 #sm 33 #rogue one #k2so #I'm not an artist #i did my best to make the Pirate Droid flag!#through powerpoint #you use the tools the Maker gives you right?

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