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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch 3 - Ensnared [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns.

Summary: Things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Series Masterlist

Finding out that the target you had been assigned to seduce and manipulate for information was actually a good person had its advantages and disadvantages.

For starters, the biggest advantage was that now you could prepare a strategy based on his personality. After all, good people were easier to trick, it was the people like you that would’ve given you a hard time if the roles were reversed. You had been taught to approach everyone with suspicion and pinpoint their weak spots to use against them and as it turned out, Bucky didn’t adapt the same strategy when it came to other people.

The disadvantage? You had no idea how to deal with that.

For years and years you had been trained to kill, lie, manipulate and not look back or feel guilty about any of it because you were told that all your targets were the kind of people that would’ve harmed you or others if they had the chance; so Bucky not being evil was surprising at the very least.

The infamous Winter Soldier hadn’t tried to hurt you when he was under attack, hadn’t tried to use you as a leverage to get out of there unlike what you would’ve done if the roles were reversed.

Needless to say, you were confused as hell.

“I mean when you think about it, it’s not surprising that he’s a good guy,” Chloe said, resting her feet on the table in the empty conference room, “Didn’t he fight against Thanos with Steve Rogers and everyone else?”

“I would’ve fought in that war if I could as well, it doesn’t mean that I’m a good person.”

She pouted, “That’s debatable. I think you’re a great person.”

“No I’m not. I swear to you I’m not.”

“Come on, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“If it were me, I would’ve pushed him into the line of fire without a second thought.”

“Exactly. We’re terrible people and we acknowledge that, Chloe.” Keith said as you tapped your pencil on the file,

“Back to the first impression strategy, guys. How do I meet Barnes?”

“Hold on, before we continue with the strategy you need to give me an answer about your cover job,” Chloe said, “We can’t have him suspect you’re hiding anything from him. Jobs are a huge part of someone’s life, it’ll come up.”

Keith raised his head, “What are the options?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Sales assistant, retail—“

“The last time you put me in retail for an undercover job, I ended up punching a customer.” he cut her off, “I vote no to the retail.”

“I’m sure they had it coming,” you deadpanned and Chloe hmmed.

“Fast food?”

“No, it makes my hair smell bad.”

“There’s a milkshake shop I can put you in, it doesn’t smell bad. It’s close to the coffee shop he and Wilson get their coffee from.”

“What’s the catch?”

A small grin pulled at her lips, “It’ll be good for the mission.”

You frowned as Keith sat up straighter, curiosity written all over his face. “Chloe? Share your devious plans with the class please?”

“It’s a retro milkshake shop and the uniforms are like….1940s pin up meets 1950s diner waitress.”

Keith started laughing and you stared at Chloe before letting out a groan, burying your face into your palms.

“I hate you so much.”

“Come on, it’s going to be Bucky Barnes’ wet dream, you know that!” Keith said, “On a completely unrelated note, can I see those uniforms?”

“No!” you snatched the phone from Chloe’s hand before Keith could take a look, “No you can’t!”

“I’m so going to take pictures, and when you become a handler I will use them to humble you.”

“I will shoot you if you do that, and can you please focus?” you insisted, “I have a meeting with General soon, and he will ask me about the strategy and I can’t go there with no ideas.”

“Just find something you and Barnes are interested in both, that never failed me,” Keith paused, “Well that, and my good looks.”

Chloe turned to look at him, “I gave her a huge file containing everything there is to know about him,” she said, “It will help her to make him fall in love, but meeting him is something else.”

“Guys,” he rolled his eyes “What are you, fifteen? It’s incredibly easy to meet people.”

“No, it’s incredibly easy to meet civilians,” you corrected him, “Or the bad guys. It’s not like Barnes goes to bars or anything, he’s not very social.”

“Yeah I get that but he has to do something.” he insisted, “Just hand me the file, are you sure you didn’t miss anything?”

“We didn’t—he does the same thing every superhero does,” Chloe threw her hands up, “He saves people if they’re in need, but how are we going to use that?”

You opened your mouth to answer but when the thought struck you, you took a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes. A smile lit up your face, the plan slowly forming in your mind and Keith frowned at you over the file.

“Y/N you’re smiling,” he reminded you, “It’s creepy when you do it genuinely.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you asked as you turned to Chloe, “You’re right. Superheroes save people, and—and Barnes is not only a superhero, but he’s also a good guy right? He didn’t use me as a leverage while getting out of there, so he cares about people’s wellbeing, so to speak.”

“Yeah?”

You snapped your fingers, “I need to find someone to shoot me.”

“Same, you’re not special.”

Chloe gasped, “Keith!”

“Relax, she’s not serious.”

“No I’m very serious.”

He scowled, “Did you forget what happened when I accidentally shot you on a mission three years ago? It was just one time and you bitched at me for a whole month. You found me when I was working undercover in Brazil to show up at my apartment so that you could complain about it more, I don’t even know how you found my address, it was classified info.”

“I gave her your address.” Chloe held up a hand and Keith heaved a sigh.

“Thank you Brutus.”

“You had it coming,” you pointed out, “But forget about that for a second, okay? I think I just found our strategy. We’re going to use me as a bait.”

“What?”

“That’s how I’ll meet him. We will put me in a dangerous position and he will…” you tried to ignore the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “He will have to save me.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, “He will help you and you will use that to lure him, did I get that right?”

“Exactly,” you grinned, “What better way to manipulate a hero than to give him somebody to save?”

She blinked a couple of times, then turned to Keith.

“Honestly, in times like these I wonder why I’m friends with you guys,” she commented, “Do you have any idea why on earth I’m friends with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders,

“I don’t know,” he said, “Because we’re fun when we’re not diabolical?”

***

The plan was pretty simple, it would look like a robbery gone wrong. You would be accompanied by one of the lower ranking agents who would pose as a robber so that if he got caught while getting away, it would pose no threat to your cover afterwards, not to mention it couldn’t be traced back to you or the operation.

Of course, you had to make sure that Bucky would stay behind and meet you while Wilson chased the bad guy off. Based on your observations on Wilson, saving people always came first rather than punishing the other person, he put the safety of innocents before anything else, so you had to find a way for them to think Wilson was more suitable for the chase.

Motorcycle. The rookie agent would get away on a motorcycle, which would require Wilson to use his wings to gain speed on him.

But God, you just hated playing the damsel in distress.

“I just want to say I’m honored that you picked me for this mission,” the agent was almost buzzing with excitement in the back alley while you waited until Wilson and Barnes was anywhere within hearing distance. “I heard- I heard so much about you Shrike. Ma’am.”

You leaned your back to the wall, crossing your arms.

“Is it true that you once killed a target using just a pencil?” he asked, “Or that you took down five armed people with a dagger?”

You turned your head to look at him better, amusement making you smile.

“Or- or that you can get information out of someone in just five minutes?” he held his breath, “Or that your father-“

“Don’t talk about my father.” You cut him off, the harsh command leaving your lips almost too fast and you felt the slight guilt pulling at your heartstrings before you shook your head.

“You’re a good shot, right?” you asked, “I don’t want to get the bullet stuck in my arm, you’ll just graze me.”

“I’m a great shot ma’am, top of my class.”

“And you need to make it look believable. Remember, if Wilson catches you—“

“He will take me to the nearest police station, and I will stay there until an agent is sent to pick me up. But do you want me to get caught?”

“Try not to,” you shrugged your shoulders “But if he does, don’t worry about it. He has no reason to believe it’s anything more than some mugging.”

His phone beeped and he checked it, then took a deep breath, “Barnes and Wilson are within hearing distance. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this,” you said and he grabbed his gun, then pointed it at your arm. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder before you turned to him and let out a very high scream, probably enough to reach the people nearby. He pulled the trigger and the gunshot echoed through the alley, a burning spreading all over your arm and making you fall to your knees.

“Are you okay?” he stepped closer to you and you tried to catch your breath.

“Go!” you hissed and he ran to the motorcycle before he rode away and as soon as he was out of your sight, Barnes and Wilson ran to the alley and you started sobbing, holding onto your arm which throbbed in pain.

Good news was he was a good shot, and he had managed to only graze you. But considering that your cover was a civilian, you doubted civilians were used to gunshot wounds, so you had to make it dramatic.

“Ma’am?” Wilson rushed to you with Barnes following him and you tried to breathe through sobs.

“Thank God, please help me—“ you sniffled and looked at the other side of the alley, breathing fast, “He took my wallet, and-and he had a motorcycle…”

“On it. Buck, stay with her.” Wilson said and ran out of the alley as Barnes crouched down to your level while you kept panting, your knees pulled to your chest, leaning back to the wall.

“Hi,” he smiled at you softly and you took a trembling breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Hello,” you managed to say as he stole a look at your arm before his eyes snapped back to yours.

“I’m Bucky,” he said, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Can I look at your arm, Y/N?”

You pursed your lips together, pretending to consider it before you raised your hand so that he could see the graze on your upper arm. He furrowed his brows for a moment, and carefully lifted your arm to see it better under the street lights while you sniffled again.

“Am I—am I going to die?” you stammered and he let out a small chuckle.

“No,” he said, “No you won’t. It’s just a graze, it doesn’t even look like it’ll need stitches. I promise.”

“But how do you know?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of arm injuries.”

You tried to keep the look of confusion on your face before you slowly averted your gaze from him to his metal wrist and you gasped, your jaw dropping as if you were distracted from the pain.

“Bucky? As in Bucky Barnes?” you asked, “Wait, no. Right? Can’t be.”

A look of regret flashed over his face, apparently he thought that would scare you but lucky for you, you had seen it coming while coming up with a strategy.

“I heard about you!” you said, “You fought against Thanos!”

He was taken aback at the fact that you didn’t accuse him of anything his head was obviously swarming with, and that would be the one thing you could base your whole plan on.

In order to make him fall in love with you and trust you, you had to act like you trusted him, act like you had little to no knowledge of the dark side of his past. Naïve civilian girl with a soft heart was the perfect cover because as far as you could tell from his file, Bucky Barnes just wanted to come back home from war.

He had been looking for something he could call his home for decades now and you’d let him believe you were his home until your orders told you otherwise.

“That’s it?” he asked when you didn’t continue and you pulled your brows together.

“Hm?”

“That’s all you…all you wanted to say?”

“Right—” you took a deep breath, “Right, I’m sorry. Thank you for all you’ve done, for saving the world.”

“No no, I didn’t mean—“ he stopped himself, “That wasn’t what I meant. Trust me, you shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“Well I am though,” you winced when you moved your arm before turning your head to check the dark alley “Bucky? Do you… do you think that robber would come back?”

“Sam’s got it covered.” he assured you, “Don’t worry. He’s not getting away, and he’s definitely not coming back here.”

“Okay.” You murmured and wiped at your eye again with the back of your free hand before you clutched at your arm again, a sob tearing itself from your chest. “God, it just—it hurts so bad...”

He shushed you gently, “I know it does sweetheart. Let’s get you to the hospital so that it will stop hurting, alright?”

Ah.

Even by 40s standards, sweetheart was a good sign.

You shook your head, “But I can’t go to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“I’m on a budget.”

He blinked a couple of times, “Come again?”

“I don’t have enough money for the hospital. I’m sure if I put a band aid on it or something it’d work, you said it wouldn’t need stitches and there’s a pharmacy right around the corner you see—”

“That’s not how bullet wounds work, let’s go.” He helped you up but you stumbled into him, letting him catch you as you looked up at him.

“I apologize, I just feel dizzy…” you said and he smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” his voice was soothing, “You think you can walk? I can carry you.”

“No I can—I can walk,” you stammered and let him lead you out of the alley, his arm wrapped around your waist tight before he looked down at you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured to himself, then he took off his jacket to put it over your shoulders. You pulled the oversized jacket tighter around you, brushing the sleeve over your forehead to push back your hair and only when he turned to stop a taxi you let a tiny smirk pull at your lips despite the throbbing on your arm.

Well, your superiors were going to be pleased. The first part of the mission was done.

Now all you had to do was make him fall in love with you.

Chapter 4

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagines #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #tfatws #fatws

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alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

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Skyfall | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader [One-shot]

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Word Count: 10,000+

Synopsis: After Solovetsky, Bell is personally recruited by M16 after Park’s personal recommendation. From there, the mission to pursue Perseus never ends. It isn’t until the confrontation at Pines Mall that everything is thrown into disarray, Adler now held captor by Stitch. Unable to cope, Bell takes matters into their own hands.

Content Warning: mature content, gore, adult language, blood, injuries, etc.

Notes: I decided to write this whole piece for Adler’s birthday, especially after seeing the Season Two teaser. I’m not good at romance, so please excuse me. And yes, it was inspired by Adele’s Skyfall. Full italic dialogue is the characters speaking Russian, ‘0000′ means a short time skip. Enjoy!

[SKYFALL]

“What do you mean ‘captured’?”

You look Woods straight in the eye.

The look you gave him was something he had never seen before, and it scared him. Woods could feel his blood run cold as you waited for an answer. He choked up, pursing his lips in a thin line. God help them all.

"It was Stitch."

Upon hearing that name, you slam a fist down on the table. You like a bomb, just waiting to go off, practically shaking from anger, and it was taking your entire willpower to not blow off.

"And…" you begin, trying to keep your voice under control. "You just let him?"

"Fuck no. Dear god, no," Woods responds immediately. "They got us. Set up an ambush right in the middle of the damn mall. We fought tooth and nail and barely made it out, yet we were too late to notice him carrying off Adler—"

"Enough."

You glare at him for a bit, before breaking off to sit back down and burrow your face into your hand. Already you were beginning to feel lethargic, your head throbbing continuously in annoyance.

"Bell–"

"Don't," you hiss. You didn't want to hear apologies.

The meeting room eventually cleared out on its own, leaving you to your thoughts. No one had said a word, and Woods respected your wishes, knowing that he would just add fuel to the fire. The team was already banged up and exhausted as is, and he didn't exactly want to be pitted against your aggressive behavior in these times. He was worried about you for sure, but now he was left to wonder what the hell he was supposed to tell Hudson.

It was hours prior that you just returned from a mission with Park. You were both working on a collaborative assignment with the CIA, in which entailed you to gather intel to cross reference with their database. Adler and his team still hadn't arrived then, so you both waited patiently for some news. Adler was the one commanding the squad, which consisted of Woods, Zenya, and Bulldozer. However, only three of them returned.

You played with the watch around your wrist, thinking back. Adler had given it to you before you left, telling you to give it back to him when you returned. He gave you a kiss on the forehead when no one was looking, bidding you a successful operation. Guilt began to belittle you the longer you thought about it, so you pulled your sleeve back over.

You should have turned down the assignment, and went to the Pines mall with everyone else. If you were there, things would have turned out better.

A part of you blamed the team for their incompetence, unable to prepare themselves for any type of situation. But in the end, it all came down to unfortunate circumstances that they just had the short end of receiving. It was practically trained in them that the mission came first, and they did successfully prevent the Nova Six explosion. Civilian lives were saved.

With the price of Russell Adler, of course.

You should have known that it was Stitch. Adler mentioned knowing him a while back, but didn't go into detail as to how. They must have had a tight history together if Stitch was willing to abandon the N6 canisters once he got his hands on Adler. You wanted to do something, anything, but there was no information whatsoever about his whereabouts. The only info you had was Woods and the team's account of seeing a chopper take off the only piece of evidence pointing towards Adler.

You knew the Perseus member way beforehand, even working with him occasionally during your times with the group. The two of you were nothing but fellow colleagues, as you outranked him, but there were a few occasions where you two got along. But, now that you were on different sides, and knowing that everything was pointing towards him, you wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through his skull.

Time felt lost as you sat, lost in old memories. It was nearly goddamn twelve a.m. by the time you got up. You nearly toppled over, both your legs asleep after sitting idly for so long. Ignoring the static that ran up your thighs, you run a hand through your hair before giving out a long exhale.

“Bell?”

Looking up, you see Park peeking around the corner. She changed her outfit since you last saw her, this time without all her combat gear. You could detect a faint smell of vanilla from her

“Hey,” you greet wearily. “How long have you been there?”

“Not long. I… wanted to see how you were doing.” She approaches you with a small comforting smile. “You haven’t moved for a couple hours.”

“I’m fine.”

It's what you had claimed, but your appearance said otherwise. Your hair was out of place, stray hairs poking out everywhere, and your eyes were bloodshot. Throat parched, you haven’t drank or eaten anything since you returned and found out what happened. All your energy was spent wallowing in anger and regret the past few hours.

“Did… Hudson say anything?” you inquire tiredly.

Pity flashed across Park’s expression as she tilted her head away from you, her eyes moving to avoid your gaze. “I can’t tell you.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“It’s within reason, especially since how close you and Adler are.”

“And you agree?”

She didn’t say anything.

While you and Adler tried to keep your relationship under the radar, it was still apparent to everyone else that there was something going on between you two. After all, Park was the one that urged you to shoot your shot after you consulted her about “feeling strange”. No one called you out on it, seeing how you both were basically fit for each other. The invisible connection between you two is what made everything work smoothly on almost every mission. It was as if you already knew what Adler had on his mind, or what he was planning, and you would always take steps to ensure its success.

So she knew that you were already blaming yourself for not being there for him. Having you on the upcoming rescue mission had the possibility of causing more problems, especially with your psychological tendencies to act before thinking.

“Why do I even bother?” you scoff. You brush past her, about to head down the hallway, only for her to grab your wrist. You look over your shoulder, sending her an accusing glare as you pull away from her.

“We’re… trying to pinpoint his location,” Park informs you reluctantly. “They marked him off as M.I.A., but given enough time—”

“We don’t have time,” you spat. Before saying anything else, you inhale through your nose, trying to reign in your emotions. Park wasn’t the enemy here. “You don’t know Stitch. I worked with the guy before. He’s ruthless with his enemies, so who knows what he has in store for Adler?”

“I know. They’re doing their best, just let them handle it. For the time being, just take care of yourself.”

You didn’t make a sound, and only gave her a curt nod before trailing away.

As much as you trusted Park and Woods, you couldn’t bring yourself to place hope in their plan. They didn’t know how the Perseus group dealt with people like Adler. You had first hand experience, as you were one of the people that had to do the dirty work early on. The methods they had at their disposal was one wishes to never go through, and you even had some people die on you because of it. Unfortunate, but it was your duty then.

Military personnel going M.I.A. was nothing new in this work field. You knew you were getting worked up about his disappearance, but the thought of his presence not returning to the base made you worry. How could you not? You loved the bastard to death, and would do whatever it takes to get him back, despite everything he did to you.

Coming to a decision, you headed off to the washroom to clean off before doing anything else.

After all, you had a job to do.

0000

“Woods.”

He perks up, finding Park standing across from him. They both shared the same overworked appearance, dark bluish bags already settled under their eyes. About a week has passed since Adler’s capture, and the entire team had been working endlessly just trying to find any hint that would point towards where he may have been taken to.

Their efforts lacked any results, and they were getting desperate. One of their best CIA agents had been abducted, and the higher ups were already considering that Adler either caved in, or died under Soviet custody. Everyone was just waiting for a sign or slip up, any information that could help them.

“What?” Woods answers.

“I need you to talk to Bell,” Park sighs, before taking a seat across from him. She briefly reads the papers in front of her, before brushing them aside to make room for her elbows. Leaning in close, they talk in hushed voices. “I haven’t seen them leave their room in more than four days now.”

Woods huffs, before tossing a manila folder onto the floor. “Bell’s fine. Leave them alone.”

“Look. The M16 decided they didn’t want to be associated with this last minute, and requested for Bell and I to return.” Park drums her fingers on the table. “That was two days ago, and I still haven’t gotten a hold of them. The head of our department is getting impatient.”

“Not my problem.”

He knew that you could very much handle yourself when it came to things like this. Hell, he himself tried to check up on you a couple of times, but he never found you loitering around the common areas or cafeteria. Though, he did note that the coffee pot would be filled by the time he woke up, with a mug missing from the cabinet. Woods didn't think you were a coffee type of person, but you only continued to prove his assumptions wrong with each passing day he knew you. So, he came to the conclusion that if you were in a stable mind to get caffinated every morning before everyone else woke, then you were finding a way to cope.

And yet the concern in Park's voice told him otherwise.

"If we don't return by tomorrow, they're going to ban us from working with you guys."

Woods pauses. "They can't do that."

"Well, we don't want to find out now, do we?" Seeing that she got his attention, Park stands back up. "Let's go."

Seeing no other choice, he follows. They both head down a series of hallways. It felt almost like a maze just trying to get around the headquarters, to a point where Woods was starting to wonder if Park even knew where she was heading.

After going down a flight of stairs, they came across a plain door in the secluded parts of the base. You had always liked your privacy, and the covered hallway window only further proved it.

Park gives a knock on the metal exterior, letting you know of their presence. "Bell? It's Park. I need you to come out for a bit. We need to talk."

They waited for you to respond, or for the sound of the door unlocking. But after a minute passed, nothing happened.

"Bell, I'm serious."

"Ugh, let me do it," Woods groans, gesturing for her to move aside. He had to admit, he was a bit irritated with you as well, seeing how you didn't do much to contribute to their search.

He tries the door knob, but it was locked. Although, it was a bit finicky and loose from the sounds of it. Seeing no other choice, he reels back before kicking it in.

"Bell!" Woods yells, pushing the door open. "Enough moping ar—"

The sight of your room was something to behold. Could one even call it a room?

"What the fuck?" Woods mutters under his breath.

It felt more like a library, and a messy one at that. There were stacks of books sticking up from the floor, accompanied with sheets of paper throwing all around the place. Manila folders of various sizes and age sat around, open and overfilled with information. The wall farthest from the door was covered with a large world map.

Taking careful steps, the duo both inch their way inside. Upon closer inspection, Park realizes that the papers weren't just random, but were intel. All of it was. Everything from past information relating to Perseus, to even the most recent encryptions the CIA managed to get a hold of. Things that were supposed to be wiped off the record managed to snake their way into the stacks.

The books were all about cryptography, dating back until the first forms. The basics, the patterns, you name it.

"Bell's fucking insane."

“No, they were always like this."

Ever since you found out about what she and Adler did to you, you became more meticulous. No rock was left unturned, and you refused to make any mistakes in your work. You double checked everything, even referring to other works to make sure nothing was out of place. There were nights where she had to convince you to stop working so you could catch a break, and she felt guilty about it.

Park brushes a lock of her hair away from her face, moving towards the map while trying not to step on anything. She could see your handwriting on the borders of the papers, as well as on the vibrant sticky notes you had slapped on some of them. Stopping in front of the desk, a few white mugs were pushed aside, just teetering on the edge. She then notices that you focused on a particular set of papers, consisting of a few encryptions.

They were fairly new, first appearing just one day prior. Both the text and your notes were written in Russian, but your handwriting was done in a rushed fashion. You had circled certain parts, drawing arrows between them, and even drew out a legend to help keep track. While seeing you work like this was nothing new to her, she wondered why you wrote in a different language this time, rather than the usual English. You rarely spoke or wrote in your mother tongue. Sometimes you would converse with Adler in Russian, especially if there were other people around, but that was all she could recall.

"Just how the hell did Bell get a hold of any of this?" Woods mutters, throwing a few pieces up in the air. He expected you to just pop up from somewhere, seeing how they invaded your workspace, but you were nowhere to be found. "Damn, even I didn't get to see some of these before."

Park ignores him, and her eyes drift off to the map in front of her. There were a few pins that kept up scraps of paper, although nothing of interest. If there was one thing, it was the bold, black marker you had used to circle a particular location. Next to it were strange symbols, possibly relating to whatever was on the table.

Her eyes widened in realization. "Shit!"

Without wasting another second, she grabs the papers on your desk, gathering up as much as possible in her arms before rushing towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Woods asks, grabbing her arm just before she flees. "We have to find—"

"Bell knows where Adler is."

His grip loosens, and Park frees herself. They stood idly in the hallway as Woods tried to put everything together. "How—"

Park gestures to the map with her chin. "Over there, those are coordinates, I’m betting. And here in my arms are all the notes that ascertain that. I'll bring this over to the cryptography team, while you need to find Bell before they do anything stupid.”

[FIVE HOURS EARLIER], 8:23 am

"Belikov?"

"Ah, hello, Bell. What can I do for you?"

The door behind you closes on its own, a nice click coming from it. Belikov’s office was small and minimally decorated. He sat at a metal desk that had a large computer on top of it, with wires trailing away from it and into the cool grey wall. A small task board was mounted behind him, with a list of reminders or tasks he needed to get done.

You approach him, keeping a hand in your pocket. Glancing up slightly, you notice a camera in the corner with its light blinking. From what you can gather, it didn't have a mic equipped with it.

"I need you to do me a small favor,” you announce. “Think of it as repayment for Lubyanka.”

Belikov sets down his pen, sensing that something was out of place.

You were never really the type of person to ask favors, or help. Not only that, there was a strange underlying tone in your voice that he couldn't help but feel that your request was more of a threat. He had heard you were originally a close associate to Perseus, and his thoughts quickly directed him to the possibility that you might have gone rogue.

"Depends on what the favor is," he responds slowly, reaching his hand slowly under his desk.

"You still remember how to pilot a chopper, no?"

"...You know I can't do that anymore. That's not what I do here."

As if unsatisfied with his answer, you pull out your hand from your pocket, revealing a pistol and shoot once towards the direction of the camera. The sound of the lens breaking filled the air, and pieces fell to the ground upon impact. Without hesitation, you then turn it towards Belikov, who pushed himself away from the desk.

He looks down at your gun. A silencer was secured tightly to the end of it, and you had a steady finger just resting right next to the trigger. His eyes travel up your arm, before meeting you eye to eye.

“I don’t think you understand the situation here, comrade,” you chastised in a low voice, and Belikov froze. “I wasn’t asking.”

Unable to do anything else, he put his hands up, keeping an eye on your gun. “And if I don’t?” he dared to ask.

“C'mon, don't be like that," you condemn, waving your hand around for a bit. "We both know why I'm here, so you can either make it easy for both of us, or make it Hell for everyone else."

"It's Adler, isn't it? I heard what happened."

You grind your teeth.

Surviving on a mere eight hours of sleep collectively for the past week, you were barely keeping awake. You only left your room to either refill your coffee mug, or to go to the bathroom. Having surrounded yourself with practically every source available at your disposal, you could already hear voices whispering in your ear. Whether it was thanks to sleep deprivation or to the side effects of MKUltra, you didn't care.

So, just standing here and talking with Belikov was wasting any precious time and breath.

"Here's what you're going to do," you begin. "You are going to get a helicopter, and take me to where I want. No funny business, no questions. Got it?"

He nods, knowing that he was unable to escape.

Walking out the door, you stuck to him closely. Belikov could feel the silencer prodding him in the side as you went to the hangar together. From there, you let him choose a heli of his choosing.

As he did so, you took a small detour and went behind a large crate. There, you found all the equipment you had hid beforehand, and quickly threw everything on, and grabbed a parachute. The load was a bit heavy, so you had to put some effort into pulling your weight with each step. Prioritizing tactical equipment, your only weapons were a combat knife and the pistol.

"You're going to jump?" Belikov questions in disbelief as you board.

"What did I say?" you retort, and he shut up immediately.

As Belikov started up the heli, you could hear traffic control attempting to wave you down: "You are not authorized to—".

You unhooked the microphone from its place, bringing it close to your mouth. “Sergeant Woods approved of this flyby, no need to worry. Goodbye, you little shits.”

It was uncalled for, but you could feel satisfaction from just going off at them. Oh, you couldn’t wait to see the look on Woods face when you returned.

Without waiting for a response, you took it upon yourself to flick the radio off, as well as the GPS tracker. Belikov gave you an alarmed look, unable to comprehend the amount of rules and laws you were breaking, and you returned with a devious smirk, just daring him to speak.

“Fly.”

And he did.

The helicopter blades started to rotate, gaining speed. You and Belikov cover your ears with headsets, and you watched as the ground below you grew smaller and smaller. A few people were running out to the runway, attempting to prevent you from leaving, but by then they couldn’t do anything but report it back to the officers.

Everything was going to plan.

It was by pure chance that you happened to stumble upon the coded message that led you up to this point. The CIA team had brushed it off, and set it aside to transcribe at a later time. Although difficult, you broke it within a few days. If you did everything correctly, and you validated that you did, then the coordinates you discovered would lead to the tiny island of Nantucket, Massachusetts. There, an old World War II base would be found, out of commission. You had already salvaged through past records for an old layout of the base, and memorized it.

Taking everything into account, from helicopter fuel to radio chatter, Stitch and his party shouldn’t have gone too far. There weren't any records of unidentified or unauthorized aircrafts entering or leaving the East Coast, so it was safe to assume that they didn’t leave the country yet. They were waiting for something, or someone.

The thought of it being a trap did, in fact, cross your mind, but it didn’t bother you. There were other things to prioritize, and your life was second. You were probably deemed mentally insane at this point, seeing the lengths you had already gone through just to trying to get to Adler. But, if the roles were reversed, you knew he would do the same for you.

You weren’t going to fail, nor was Adler dead, so you were going to try your damn hardest for the both of you to return home. Alive.

Taking a moment, you looked over to check on Belikov. He maneuvered the copter without much trouble, although his grip on the handles were a bit tense, and you couldn’t help but feel a little remorseful, knowing that you just put him in a bad spot.

“When we get back,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Tell them I held you at gunpoint. I don’t want you to lose your job because of me. Say that I was psychotic, or whatever.”

“No need,” he declines. “It’s the least I can do. You did save me back at the KGB after all.”

“Adler was the one who gave you this position in the first place. I don’t want to take away your chance at life because of my decision.”

He hummed. “Well, I trust that you’ll come up with something when the time comes. For now, just rest.”

You take a look at your watch. It was about 9:52 am, which meant that it took you about thirty minutes to get Belikov and board the chopper, and another twenty to get this far out from base.

It was a risky move to just fall asleep, seeing how Belikov could just turn around when you're out and turn you in. But, for someone that was held hostage, Belikov didn’t appear too bothered by it. Truth be told, you did hear stories about him, both from Adler and rumors floating around. His personality was a complete opposite of the things he had committed, and you couldn’t help but be impressed.

A silence settled between the both of you. Listening to the whir of the blades above you, you take the chance to view the scenery beneath you. To the right, an endless blue. The sunlight made the water twinkle brightly, and you notice a few carrier ships in the distance. As for the left, you could make out the shapes of buildings and immobile cars. Some houses aligned the beaches, little dots scattered around on the shore.

Massaging your eyes, you could feel yourself easing up as a sense of tranquility fell over you. For an unknown reason, you didn’t feel as troubled as one should in your situation. You crossed the line the moment you set foot into Belikov’s office, knowing that you could be held accountable for any mayhem that would follow. You should be shaking right now, fearing for the worse, or even thinking of possible outcomes if something went awry. But, you couldn't.

There was only one outcome.

Panic was unnecessary. If things happen, it'll happen.

And before you knew it, Nantucket came into view.

You slid the door open, holding onto the handles to stable yourself.

"I need you to come back in an hour!" you yell at Belikov over the wind. "The area should be clear by then!"

"An hour?!" he exclaims. "That's not enough—"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, as you already jumped out. He could see your form get smaller and smaller as you pulled your arms to the side to gain speed. "Time..."

The plunge from the air, you had to admit, was a bit frightening. You never had really gone base jumping, or even skydiving, beforehand, so your experience was that of a beginner at best. It's a subject that isn't exactly given at basic military training. And despite your years of experience, this was probably the second time you had to ever jump out of a helicopter. The first time was during your time "Vietnam", when it was shot out of the air and hung up in the tree lines, but that was a different kind of jumping.

You pulled the parachute open when you were just a good distance above the water, and the old base was just a good swim away. Positioning yourself, you pointed your toes downward so you could break the surface tension of the water as you land. Once close enough, you cut the strings.

The salty, cold water immediately sent chills in your bones right as you landed. You could feel everything trying to drag you down, especially the small waves that crashed over you. A part of you just wanted to take everything off to make the load lighter, but you knew that you were going to need it eventually. Gasping for air, you tread for a bit, just trying to catch your breath.

Once you recovered, you took a leisure swim towards land.

There was a desolate space in front of you once you exited, in which a couple of humvees and a heli carrier sat. Crates were stacked nearby, left out in the open. Seizing the opportunity, you took cover behind them and whipped out a pair of binoculars. You took a quick survey of the perimeters, wondering the best approach.

There weren't as many people as you thought, counting, at most, five people that were patrolling the area. It was daytime, and the land was pretty vacant.

Taking a look at the time, it was now 10:32 am. The flight took about two hours, which meant that you had about one hour to retrieve Adler and rendezvous with Belikov before Hudson and the team could catch up with you. You hoped to return before they left. If they were smart, they must have broken into your room by now.

Returning focus to the objective, Woods had claimed that there were about thirty enemies when it came to the ambush, and a later report came out that eighteen bodies were counted. That meant there should be about twelve loitering around the base, five outside and seven inside.

"Have you counted the boxes already?"

A couple of men began to approach your area, and you instantly pulled yourself inwards and pressed your back against the crate.

"Yes. Everything is refueled and ready for transport."

"Took long enough."

They stopped right next to you, backs turned. Their uniforms were black, fitted with a matching vest and tundra camouflage patterned pants. You could see the Perseus symbol embroidered on the biceps of their right arm. Stitch certainly had a weird sense of fashion when it came to his underling.

With them distracted, you pounced onto one of them, covering their mouth. You pulled out their firearm from their side, and quickly unloaded the bullets into his partner before he could react. The body fell to the ground with a loud thud, and the man in your chokehold’s screams were brought down to a muffle.

You then violently snap his neck in return, and his body slumps over in your arms. With two dead bodies already on the list, you drag them behind cover, and strip the latter of his uniform, shove it on and top it off with the vest, switching out any unessential equipment with yours. It felt significantly easier to walk now without wet clothing.

Assuring that everything was in order, you headed inside.

It was eerily quiet, and you could mainly hear the whirring of machines, fans, and steam on the inside. A bit cramped, you noted, the wallways about two persons wide. The place showed little activity of reconstruction, having been untouched and abandoned. Dust collected in every nook and cranny, and there were dark spots and cracks speckled across the floor. The layout seemed true to the map you had remembered, so you traveled in deeper.

For a bit, it reminded you of the Ukraine mission. You were paired up with Woods, both of you infiltrating the secret Spetsnaz training facility and setting the place ablaze. You even had the balls to press the large red button, stating that "the enemies should come to you instead", much to the inconvenience of Woods.

"Ah comrade, I need your help over here!"

Breaking your train of thought, you muse over if you should engage in the request.

Ah, what the hell? you think. Maybe you could get them to spill information about Adler.

You trace back your steps to an open door. Inside, a man around the same height as you gestured you to come in. He had a fresh shave, with dark blonde hair gelled back. The top of his uniform was tied around his waist, an old tank top taking its place. By the looks of it, he seemed pretty drained.

"Perfect timing. I need you to help pack these," he requests.

"Ah," you voice. "And you're…?"

"Ivanov."

Walking in, the room was a makeshift armory. Rows of AK47s were aligned in a row on the tabletop, and underneath a crate of a diminishing supply of grenades. Ivanov was the only guy you seen inside thus far. He was filling up magazines, setting them on the table after the pack was finished.

Seeing that you were going to assist, he hauls a box of bullets out of the ammo container, and sets it down next to you. "We're a bit behind schedule, since Captain Kuzmin got a hold of the American."

You pause, hand hovering over the box, before continuing the motion and grabbing a couple of bullets and loading them into a magazine. "The prisoner, what happened to them?"

"I'm not sure, but I heard they were keeping him in one of the basements," Ivanov answers.

"Ah, I did not know that." You slide the mag in, making sure it was secure before pulling the top of it back. Seeing how you already knew how to do it, he straightens up, about to return to his station, only to do a double take in your direction. His eyes widened. "Thanks for informing me."

"Motherf—"

You pull the trigger.

Ivanov recoils backwards from the impact, tripping over the containers on the floor. A clean hit, right in between his eyes.

You let the firearm fall out of your hands, and it clatters onto the floor. Stepping over his body, you made your way back out, but not before tossing a few C4s into the pile of grenades.

Once getting a couple paces away from the armory, you detonated them.

The walls shook violently, and the overhead lights flickered. Nearby windows shattered from the blast wave, glass falling onto the gloomy floors. A few stray bits flew your direction, grazing your cheek.

Now that they had a distraction, you made your way to the basement.

The alarms began to sound, covering the metallic rings of the stairs as you rushed down them. There was an announcement over the PA, announcing that there were intruders, and it repeated endlessly.

On the final flight, a lone Perseus soldier ran their way up the stairs. "Where are you going?!" he exclaimed, trying to shove you back in the other direction. "There's a—"

You cut him off, sinking a knife into his chest. A few specks of blood splattered on your face, and you yank the blade back out. He gurgled, and watched helplessly as you cleaned your knife on the sleeve of your uniform.

"Give Arash my regards," you growl, stepping over him.

Now on the lowest part of the facility, you began kicking every door open, peering in to see if Adler resided in one of them.

Another of Stitch's companions rounded the corner, this time with rifles in hand. Upon seeing you, they fired in your direction and you duck into one of the rooms.

The glass pane above you shatters as they continue to unload everything. "Fucking idiots," you hiss under your breath.

Unhooking a grenade from your belt, you pulled out the pin and chucked it out the window. It goes off, and the air fills with the screams of two.

One survived the blast, trying to crawl away. You stop them, grabbing them by the collar and flipping them over and holding a gun to their head.

"Where's Adler?!" you bellow, pressing the barrel against his temple. "Tell me, and you'll live."

He gives out a pained, yet mocking chuckle. "You won't find him—"

You shoot him in the shoulder, and he gives out a yelp. Bringing him closer, you repeat yourself, "I'll ask again. Where. Is. He."

"You're too late," he chokes out, giving you a bloody grin. "The Captain's… He's- He's already heading to eva—"

"Fuck!"

You let him go, making sure to put a hole in each leg so he can bleed to death. With that, you made a dash towards the stairs, practically flying up it.

While you were busy poking around, Stitch must have already begun to move Adler out. The chopper they used was still there when you parachuted half an hour ago, so that must mean you just missed him.

The panic that you should have felt ages ago began to settle in. Shit shit shit!

Your joints and limbs were aching, just waiting to give out. A part of you just wanted to give up and trip, spending the rest of the time just lying down on the concrete floor. The small possibility that Adler was no longer here made you choke up, and it makes you wonder why you came all this way. Desperation hung over your shoulders, and your throat began to tighten.

You run out to the open sun, the sun rays temporarily blinding you.

Urgently, you look around for anything that was moving.

Here, you see a dark hooded figure just about a kilometer away, dragging something on the ground, around 300 yards away. Around him were three other soldiers. They were about halfway to the chopper carrier, and if you were to start running now, you wouldn't make—

No, you will. There was no time for doubt.

A humvee was pulled up nearby, and you quickly jumped into it. The keys were still in the ignition, so you cranked it sideways. The vehicle vibrated, a loud buzzing noise started. Switching the stick position, you slammed on the accelerator. It lurched forward, the tires screeching against the pavement.

With one hand on the wheel, you bring out another C4, tossing it into the passenger seat. You took out your grenades, your flashbangs- anything that would cause an explosion, and threw it into the pile.

They couldn't go anywhere if they didn't have the means of doing so.

You sped past the group of people, and taking a look out the window, you saw him.

Adler was on the ground, unconscious. His glasses were gone, and his clothes were stained in dried blood. You couldn't see his face underneath all the red smeared all over it. And holding him by the back of the collar was Stitch.

A sudden rage overtook you, and you wanted to jerk the wheel to run him over, but you managed to keep a level head, and drove past.

Caught off guard, his underlings began to shoot at your vehicle, but the reinforced plating shielded you as bullets pelted against the side.

The helicopter was right there, and so you did it.

You kick the door open and jump out. The landing was brutal, the wind getting knocked out of you upon impact. You tucked in, but felt your arm give out the moment it touched the ground, and tiny rocks scraped against your skin, tearing it open. The detonator fell out of your hands.

The humvee continued without you, the pedal stuck in place, and crashed into the heli. You forced yourself into a crawl, reaching for the remote. Once you felt something metallic brush against your fingers, you grabbed it and pressed every button available. The car exploded, taking out the chopper with it. Flames burst upward, sending a heat wave within radius.

You were all stuck on the island.

Now, it was time to deal with Stitch.

[TWO WEEKS LATER], 10:15pm

"That's it?"

"Yep," you affirm, before taking another shot of vodka.

Instantly, loud groans of disappointment filled the table and you smile smugly at their reactions.

"You're fucking kidding Bell—"

"Wow, really leaving us hanging."

You laugh as Woods gives you a friendly slap on the back of your head. "You're the most dumbest, deranged person I ever worked with," he declares.

"I take after you and Mason." You shrug with a smug grin. “Let’s face it though, you’re proud of me.”

“Damn right I am. But seriously, ‘Goodbye, you little shits’? You not only lie, but you disrespect me?”

"Well, would you have preferred me saying 'kiss my ass'?" you retort.

Two weeks have passed since your selfish decision to go after Adler. You managed to do the impossible, and it only took days of sleepless nights, a lot of coffee, and your mind balancing on the edge of insanity for you to pull it off.

Truth be told, you couldn't remember anything afterwards, as your memory blanked out.

According to Woods, they arrived shortly after where you ended your story. Somehow, you had managed to take out the other three, and were engaged Stitch in close quarter combat. They landed and took Stitch into custody, although he had left quite a mess in return.

You got stabbed in the abdomen, and got a knife pierced through your hands, and had a few bullet grazings and scrapes. Your shoulder got dislocated from your little dive out of the humvee. As for Adler, he was in better condition than you expected. He was still alive, although Stitch did a number on him.

The asshole decided to do an art project on Adler’s face, tracing over his scar with a fresh, sharp blade and gave him a broken nose. You shivered just thinking back on it. The medical report also indicated that he had a few broken bones mostly in his right arm and hand. There was a single bullet wound in his left leg as well, which you assumed he received from collateral damage around the time you were fighting the three.

They applied first aid there, before transporting you all back home for proper treatment.

Next thing you knew, you woke up in the med bay, three days after. You slept a whole sixty-two hours, catching up on sleep and recovering. Park chewed your ass out the moment you woke up, saying that you were on administrative leave and taken off payroll until a decision could be made on what to do with you.

Now, everyone was gathered in the meeting room, the lights turned down low to set the mood. You had just finished recounting your experience to the crew.

Anything work related was pushed aside, the papers replaced with several cans of beers and glasses of alcohol. Stress was relieved through downing shots, and entertainment was the good old pack of cards and chips, hard cash thrown onto the tabletops. Even Hudson was there, holding a bottle while playing beer pong.

“Bell, I just remembered,” Park perks up suddenly beside you. She reaches into her back pocket, retrieving a folded piece of paper and hands it over. “Look what I found.”

You take it, eyeing her cautiously. “What's this?”

“Blackmail,” she says lightly, and you gave her a stern look. “I’m kidding, but go on.”

Opening it up, it revealed itself to be a photograph. The timestamp showed that it was taken a couple weeks ago. More accurately, the day you went on a solo raid.

It was a picture of you and Adler sitting in the back of the helicopter, probably taken right after it landed back home. Your head was resting on Adler’s shoulder, and his head was leaning against yours. You were both holding hands, which rested on top of his left thigh.

"Aren't you two a bunch of lovebirds?" Park pokes fun at.

“What the fuck?!” you shriek, feeling heat rise up on your cheeks as Park gives you a shit-eating grin. “Helen, what the hell is wrong—”

“Oh, what do we have here?”

Woods plucks the polaroid right out of your hands. He whistles, seeing its contents. "Wow, wait 'till Mason hears about—"

"If you tell Mason, then I'll tell him about the mannequin," you snarl, snatching it back. You then turn to Park, who nonchalantly takes a sip of her drink. "Really?"

"C'mon Bell. It's not every day you get to see that kind of stuff," she teases.

"Well, let's make this the last time then. I'm burning this."

You take your leave, Baker shouting across the room for you to get another pack of beer, and you give him the bird over the shoulder in response, before taking a turn out the doorway.

The noise of music and speaking lowered down to the steady hum of the hanging lights as you wandered around for a bit.

You head the opposite direction of the trash room, and eventually find Adler in one of makeshift sleeping quarters. It was just him and one other person, who had just finished redressing his bandages.

He looked pale, his sullen expression exposing his insomniac habits. A large gauze pad was secured tightly with tape over his cheek, and his right arm in a cast. The medic was helping him get his jacket on, but in the end he only put his left arm in the sleeve while letting the rest hang from his shoulders. After determining he didn’t need any more help, the medic left, giving you a weary look of thanks as you moved out of the way.

Adler perks up slightly noticing your presence, giving you a small smile. “If it isn’t Sputnik.”

“Seriously?” you articulate. “That’s my nickname now?”

He ignores your question. “Are you drunk?”

“No. How's the face?"

"Hurts to talk, but I'll live."

Despite your protests, you were, in fact, drunk. You somehow managed to live up to the concept of Russians being able to handle alcohol well, yet Adler notes that you were beginning to slur your words. It was rather intriguing for many to experience the complete 180 in your personality when you get drunk. You would never shut up once someone got you to start talking, and if you had something to say, you did it in the most blunt way possible. A bit of your accent came out as well, a bit of a mix between British and Russian all together.

"You better."

Adler scoffs in amusement, but beckons you to get closer over with his hand. "C'mere."

"You forgive me?" you say hopefully, taking a seat on a swivel chair next to the bed. You both haven't seen each other since the incident, as you were forcibly isolated and interrogated once deemed stable enough. Adler most likely heard what had happened by the time you were released.

"You’re joking, right? Of course I don’t,” he reprimands, giving you a flick in the forehead.

“What the he—”

“You disobeyed a direct order, threaten someone at gunpoint, steal a heli, raid an abandoned military base on your own, blow it up, then have the audacity to fight Stitch on your own?"

"I literally killed an entire garrison for you, don't you dare lecture me on what I did."

"Is that your way of being romantic? Committing war crimes?"

"Which ones?” you counter. “You gotta be more specific, Russ, my entire existence is a war crime."

He sighs, knowing there's no use arguing with you. It felt like he was talking to a doppelganger of Woods sometimes, so having to deal with two idiots on the team was mentally exhausting. If anything, your efforts balance it out.

Lying down, he notices the paper in your hand and points his chin at it. "What's that?"

You lazily hold your hand out, letting him take it from you. "Did you know Park took this?"

"No. But you look dashing." Adler pockets it when you aren't looking.

"I look like a serial killer," you whine, leaning back and proceeding to spin.

"That's what you are."

"I don't kill for fun."

Adler stops your chair by sticking his foot out, worried that being dizzy and drunk might somehow cause you to hit your head against the table. “Your body count says otherwise.”

"Oh shit, am I on the top three?"

"If you keep pulling off the shit you do, you'll be first place soon enough."

You give out a boisterous laugh. "At least I beat you at something."

A silence settles between the both of you as your laughter dies out to a chuckle. To think that you were now able to have a casual conversation with Adler without having to worry felt reassuring. Despite his demeanor, he was an easy guy to talk to, but it felt like you would both argue like a married couple at times.

You began to feel drowsy, feeling the alcohol beginning to slow you down. Wondering what time it was, you remembered something and began to loosen the watch around your wrist. "I forgot to return—"

"Keep it."

"...You're mad at me."

"I'm not. It's yours now."

And so you secured it back around your wrist. While he assured that he wasn't mad at you, you knew that he didn't approve of what you did. It was reckless, and you intentionally put the entire mission in jeopardy because you couldn't be patient. Your lack in trust towards your teammates was called into question, and that day the CIA could have lost three people.

But, they didn't. It was always the negatives that everyone focused on, not the positives. You found where Adler was, outperforming the CIA's "top cryptographers" once again, managed to take out Stitch's unit and hinder his plans. What more could they want?

You scoot closer to Adler, crossing your arms on his bedside and burrowing your head in them. "I'm sorry."

“It’s fine,” he assured.

Avoiding his gaze, you stare at the wall trying to let the thought of Adler's disappointment bother you. Instead, you feel him place a hand on top of your head, and you close your eyes as you feel his fingers run through your hair, shuddering as he moves it in a combing fashion.

"I'm not a dog, you know," you comment tiredly.

"Well you're not stopping me either."

Despite not doing much recently, Adler found himself becoming exhausted more easily. Having two limbs temporarily out of commission certainly made it harder to move around, but it was the lack of movement that made him bored out of his mind. He wanted to get back to work already to make up for lost time, but everyone denied him the pleasure of doing so, saying that he’ll need to recover before anything else.

With nothing to do other than signing papers, Adler looked forward to seeing you pop in from time to time while you tell him stories about what had happened that day. He had planned to drop by the meeting room for a couple of drinks, but he found himself preoccupied with you instead, your own sleepiness rubbing off of him.

You were about to drift off when you felt Adler’s hand leave and the sound of the lamp turning off. He nudges you awake. Opening your eyes slowly, you found that Adler had pushed himself farther into the bed, holding up the blankets to reveal an open space beside him.

“Hop in.”

Too tired to decline, you slip under the covers with him, pulling the sheets over your shoulders. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you unconsciously moved a bit closer to him, and Adler couldn't help but chuckle to himself as you did.

"Shouldn't we go join the others?" you query.

"Can't. Doctors said no drinking."

"Ah. I hope you well get soon then."

Adler does a double take. "You mean, 'I hope you get well soon'?" he corrects.

"That's what I said."

"God, how many shots did you take?"

You felt usually daring today, the alcohol going to your head. Your hand shoots up to his head. His naturally styled hair became tousled as you played with it between your fingers. It felt soft and lush like you expected. "Enough to get where I'm at now."

“So, we’re speaking Russian now?”

In the darkness, you could make Adler's expression. It was peaceful, the corners of his eyes slightly lifted as his lips were upturned in a barely noticeable, yet tender, smile. His eyes watched you fondly, just taking in your facial features and every little movement they made. It was almost like he was in a trance, and whenever you were around he could just forget everything. The pain would suddenly become a numbing tingle as his heart began to quicken itself each time.

Love was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and even he had to admit that he was scared of trying to love again. And he could tell you were in a similar situation— not knowing what it felt like to be loved.

"Russian is considered a romantic language, you know," you point out, pulling your hand away.

The feeling Adler got every time he looked at you came with the urge to protect you, wanting to keep you out of harm's way. But in reality, it felt like you were the one protecting him, doing all the dirty work behind the scenes just for the sake of it. Yet, you were unwavering, and it was alarming.

"Last time I checked, it’s not. You're just saying that cause you like hearing me speak it."

You gave him a meek grin. “Smartass.”

Reflecting on it, Adler didn't know much about you.

Judging from previous missions, you've become long desensitized to a point where you had no issue dealing with the enemy in the way you had done two weeks ago, and it made him wonder what kind of other shit you went through before having the luck of meeting him. But, to see you act in such an affectionate way was something new, as you played a relentless, yet dependable, soldier on the job.

If there's one thing he did know, it was that he wanted to spend the rest of his days working alongside you. When he, and if he will, retire, Adler knew that he wanted to take you back to his hometown and show you around. Live together as civilians, take you out for dinner, maybe even rent a fancy sports car and speed down the highway near some scenic beach during sunset. It was a cheesy thought, but it was something he looked forward to, and he didn't plan to die until he did.

Lost in thought, he brings his hand up to your chin.

"I never really did thank you for Nantucket, did I?" he murmurs, switching back to English. Hearing Adler's gravelly voice in such close proximity made you melt.

"No, not really."

"Close your eyes then."

"Why-"

"Close."

And so you obliged.

Darkness overtook your vision, and you strained yourself to listen carefully. You heard the sheets ruffling, and Adler moved his hand to cup your cheek, the roughness of his palms ticking your skin. Your heart began to race, and butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you waited for Adler to commit to what he planned.

Getting impatient, you were about to speak up and snap your eyes open but you felt something press against your lips gently.

The kiss was soft and surprisingly chaste. You could detect the wistfulness behind it, and it brought up a mix of emotions. His lips were different from what you had imagined. They were plump and smooth, almost luscious on its own. Rather fitting for a suave man of his nature, yet it gave you an entirely new, exclusive experience.

Eventually, Adler recedes back, pulling away, but you could still a tingling impression left on your slightly parted lips. You failed to form any words, and instead your eyes fluttered back open.

The look he gave you made you tear up. His eyes were half lidded, and there was a sense of longing behind those ocean blue eyes of his, telling you that he had been waiting to convey his feelings in this way for the longest time. It just made you defenseless, knowing that there was someone like Adler that actually loved the monster that you had made yourself out to be.

You thought back to a couple weeks back, remembering his unconscious form and a strange sense of dread fell upon you. An image flashed in your mind, your blood-stained hands shaking as they hovered over his beaten face. Someone was trying to pull you away from him, shouting at you in indecipherable words.

Adler was fine now, but you couldn't help but sob, the delayed sense of impending doom now finally kicking in after two weeks.

A tear rolled down your cheek, wetting the pillow underneath you, and you immediately tried to wipe your eyes before more followed.

"Sorry, I-I don't know what's come over me," you stammer, shuddering as you try to catch your breath. “Just give me a moment.”

"You want to talk about it?"

“No, it’s fine,” you try to assure him.

Adler wasn’t having any of it. He couldn’t just lie idly aside and let it pass, especially with you tearing up about it. “Talk to me, Bell.”

You sniffle, taking a deep breath. "It's just… When Woods informed us that you were missing, I-I got so fucking scared. I worked with Stitch before, and..."

"I'm here now."

"I know, but… Just you, tied up in some chair in some unknown place, him inflicting whatever vengeance he had against you… I was confident that you were alive, but then I thought: what if I never found you? What if I was wrong, and you were never there? The thought of just discovering your body—"

"[Y/N]," Adler cuts you off. "I haven't seen you in two weeks and the last thing I want for you to do is cry. Even more so if it's because of me."

"I—"

"It's in the past now. You did what you thought was best. It was fucking stupid, but it's the reason why we're able to have this conversation today. As much as I hate to admit it, your impulsiveness saved my ass. But, as your superior, and your boyfriend, don’t you dare pull shit like that again, got it?”

“...Okay,” you assent. Adler always had a way with words, although forthright, but it never failed to comfort you.

He nods in affirmation. “Good.”

You both gaze at each other wordlessly amidst the darkness. The light that seeped under the doors gave you the dim outline of his form, and you could see his chest rising and falling in a steady pace. Adler lied there calmly, listening to you ease yourself down into hiccups. He wanted to embrace you, but his injuries prevented him from doing so, and it pained him.

“...We didn’t do anything for your birthday, did we?” you inquire through receding hiccups. “Or that thing. Valentine’s was it?”

“You and I? No. You weren’t here.”

A pang of guilt hits you. “Shit… I, uh— Park had to bring me back to the U.K. for a couple days due to… complications.”

Adler hums for a bit, thinking. His birthday was nothing special of sort, but the rest of the crew was eager to celebrate it, especially with his return. They held a drinking session, similar to the one tonight, but he could only sip on water and non-alcoholic juices.

“Tell you what,” he begins a bit eagerly. “Since we’re both on leave, how about we take a trip back to my hometown?”

“Where’s that at?”

“It’s a secret, you’ll find out later.” He could hear you scoff in amusement. “You can stay at my house, where the bed is actually big enough for the both of us. I’ll drive you around, show you the tourist attractions—”

“You can’t drive with your arm like that,” you snicker.

“Fine, you can drive. Just don’t scratch it. Anyways, you’ll drive us around, and we can eat at this nice restaurant that’s close by. I know the owner, so we can get a good deal. There’s a nice view in their outdoor seating area, and their wine is pretty decent.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Hey!” Adler retorts in offense. “Not everyone’s idea of a romantic getaway is infiltrating an old military base. Let me have this for once.”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He gives you a peck on the forehead. “But until then, you need to sleep, soldier.”

“Yes, sir.”

You nuzzle yourself into the crook under Adler’s chin, and you could feel his arm curve underneath and wrap around your unbandaged hand. You slowed your breathing down to match Adler’s as he rubbed gentle circles in your palms, and you counted each rotation, just trying to fight off sleep. You wanted to stay awake and cherish the moment, but the distant music from the party persisted, the muffled beats slowly pulling you into a light slumber.

"Я тебя люблю,” you mumble as you drift off, your fingers losing its grip around his.

"I love you too.”

Adler kisses your forehead once again, before following you into a good night sleep.

#sorry this is long lmao #there's not a lot of romantic plot here i tried my best #russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #cod #black ops cold war #call of duty imagine #bo:cw #text #bell #call of duty x reader #fanfic #call of duty: black ops cold war #me back at is again with my limited vocabulary #abcd briefing

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sunnysidekit · 3 years

Photo

Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

#ben miller x you #ben miller x y/n #ben miller x reader #benny miller #frankie morales #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fic #garrett hedlund fanfic #my writing

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Xia Yan Personal Story 4-1 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4: 4-1 / 4-2 / 4-4 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-7 / 4-9 / 4-10 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-14 / 4-16

Xia Yan’s Home

Our interactions after I moved into Xia Yan’s house had a long-lost familiarity to them, but also… a strange unfamiliarity.

When I walked up to the washroom door, the door suddenly opened from inside – Xia Yan had just finished showering and was just in the middle of wiping off his hair when he pushed the door open.

Just like in the past, he didn’t try very hard to dry it off, such that the white T-shirt that he was wearing was slightly damp, clinging onto his firm body.

Xia Yan: Why are you up so early?

MC: Sphinx said that he was going to contact us about collaborating on the case, right? I was afraid that he’d come over really early…

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, he won’t.

MC: How do you know? Did he contact you alone?

Xia Yan: Oh, he didn’t. I’m just speculating.

Xia Yan: Sphinx has always preferred operating alone in the dark. Even if he needed to work with us right now, he still probably wouldn’t want to reveal his identity.

Xia Yan: Plus, even if he doesn’t mind that, right now isn’t a good time.

Xia Yan: The two of us just appeared in front of Meng Qishan. Even though I’ve already threatened him to not reveal any info on us to Oedipus…

Xia Yan: It’s always best to take every possibility in consideration. If Sphinx seeks us out right now, he just might send himself to Oedipus for nothing.

Xia Yan: If I were him, I’d also opt to work underground. We’re out in the open while he’s hidden, which is more beneficial for the investigation.

MC: Makes sense.

MC: Right, why did you shower so early?

Xia Yan: Uh… I just finished up my morning run, so I took a quick cold shower.

Xia Yan: Right, are you also going to wash your face?

Xia Yan: Wait a bit, I just noticed that there’s no more toothpaste. I’ll get you a new tube.

MC: No need, I brought some.

MC: If you also haven’t washed your face yet, we can just use my toothpaste.

I helped Xia Yan squeeze out the toothpaste. Then, we stood side-by-side in front of the mirror to wash up.

Because we had grown up, and because Xia Yan’s home washroom was comparatively smaller, Xia Yan and I kept bumping into each other.

The steam that hadn’t dispersed yet in the washroom filled the air with the scent of shower gel. This was just a typical scent, but because Xia Yan was beside me, it felt… somewhat different.

Right now, the past commonplace occurrence of us washing our faces and brushing our teeth together… made me feel somewhat nervous.

The mirror in front of us candidly revealed all my emotions with complete clarity. I shifted away my gaze as if in escape, not daring to look at the mirror again.

MC: Xia Yan, are you still using this brand of shampoo?

The items on the shelves, the shampoo, the shower gel… were still the brands we used at home, eight years ago.

Xia Yan: Yeah. I had to buy new daily necessities after getting back, but I’m no good at picking them out…

Xia Yan: So I chose them based on our old habits – easy and saves me from worrying, haha.

In all these years, he still hadn’t forgotten those little habits. I suddenly felt a little happy.

But Xia Yan’s and my mouth-rinsing cups were a pair in the past, while they were now two completely different ones.

MC: What about your mouth-rinsing cup?

Xia Yan: There’s no one who sells that cup model anymore.

The small happiness that had just surged in my heart suddenly turned into a bit of disappointment.

MC: Is that so…

MC: Uh… about that, Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: Huh? What?

MC: A few days ago, I saw a pair of mouth-rinsing cups that look really nice online, and your cup just happens to be kinda worn… how about we change them together?

Xia Yan: Sure.

Xia Yan’s Home, Second Floor

After washing my face with Xia Yan, Sphinx called us, describing his action plan.

Just as Xia Yan had said, Sphinx was planning to continue hiding his identity. We would work out in the open while he remained hidden as we investigated together.

Sphinx: That’s what our plan is.

Sphinx: For these few days, I’ll first confirm whether there are other victims that corrupt detectives are harassing, and deal with their issues.

Sphinx: After confirming that those corrupt detectives have to do with Oedipus, you two can use other methods to investigate while hidden.

Xia Yan: Okay. Then we’ll wait for you to contact us.

Sphinx: Alright, that’s all-

MC: Wait, Sphinx.

The moment before Sphinx hung up, I called out to him.

Sphinx: Does Miss Lawyer have any other questions to bring up?

MC: I have some questions regarding our approaches towards cooperation. Sphinx, I acknowledge the reasons why you do not want to reveal your true identity right now.

MC: But we’ve already started investigating with you. You should at least display your sincerity, should you not?

Sphinx: …

Sphinx: Then how do you want me to display my sincerity, Miss Lawyer?

MC: Return Xia Yan’s box.

I heard a faint chuckle on the other side of the call.

MC: (What’s so funny about that?)

Xia Yan: Sphinx.

Perhaps because the pressure in Xia Yan’s voice, Sphinx’s brazen laughter stopped.

But there was a still faint layer of mischief in his voice.

Sphinx: Of course. I will get in touch with same-city speed delivery right after. You’ll be able to get your box today.

Sphinx: But after receiving it, I’d like to trouble both of you to examine it carefully.

Sphinx: Though you can consider me as a rogue, the point of stealing the box was to develop a cooperative relationship with you…

Sphinx: Logically, I wouldn’t play any tricks on these little things, but the two of you should still personally, carefully confirm it all.

Sphinx: For example, what if something happens with the delivery company and they break the box… then won’t I end up getting a really unfair accusation?

MC: Don’t worry, we will carefully look over the delivery.

Sphinx: If you say so, Miss Lawyer, then I can be at peace.

Sphinx: Although, Detective Xia Yan, why aren’t you speaking? You’re the most important involved party here. You, of all people, have got to be there to look over the delivery.

After Sphinx mentioned his name, Xia Yan’s face twisted very visibly.

Xia Yan: I… will.

MC: (Why does Sphinx sound like he’s messing with him…)

MC: (He hasn’t put something weird in the box to prank us, has he?)

These doubts continued until that afternoon, when we received the delivery Sphinx had sent.

I looked at the delivery box with severe caution.

MC: Xia Yan, could Sphinx have messed with something in the delivery box?

MC: I felt like there was something suspicious about his tone in the call.

Xia Yan: That guy definitely isn’t acting out of the goodness of his heart.

MC: No surprises there, you also feel the same…

Xia Yan: Mhmm… I messaged him after, asking what his goal was, but he just deliberately rambled on without saying anything important.

Xia Yan: How about I open it myself first, then call you over to see after confirming that there’s nothing wrong with it?

MC: That won’t do. No matter what happens, we’ve got to face it all together.

MC: Plus, didn’t you say before that Sphinx is an alright person? I bet that, at most, he’s just pranking us somewhere.

Xia Yan: … But I want to rescind that evaluation on him now.

Xia Yan sighed, then opened the package.

That box with the Sherlock Holmes pipe printed on it was wrapped in layers of bubble wrap, looking like it hadn’t suffered any bumps on the way here.

MC: He sure did give it enough protection. Just based on that, I’m willing to forgive him even if there is a prank somewhere.

Xia Yan: Well, that’s something he should be doing.

Xia Yan scoffed and opened the wooden box. The inside was filled to the brim with various little items.

His biology competition gold medals, the models he made himself… as well as many familiar objects. And what was piled at the very top of everything was a ring.

A ring with very crude worksmanship. The ring had been wound from copper into a circular shape, and a laminated four-leaf clover was sitting on the top.

This was the first thing that Xia Yan had personally made for me.

MC: Isn’t this the ring you made for me during kindergarten?

When we were still in kindergarten, we “played house” often, that popular child’s game.

One time, we got too into the game and thought that the ring braided from dog’s tail grass didn’t look nice enough, so we secretly took mom’s ring.

And then… we were both reprimanded severely.

Back then, I didn’t know how valuable the ring was or what its special meaning was, so I really didn’t understand why mom was unhappy.

MC: Back then, dad explained that the ring was one that he gave to mom, so only mom could wear it.

MC: But in the end, you hollered—

Back then, Xia Yan had earnestly yelled “Then I’ll just give her a ring”…

MC: …!

Xia Yan: …

We were long past those times when children’s words held no weight.

MC: (Does Xia Yan… still remember what he said back then…)

I lowered my head in a fluster, rubbing the ring in embarrassment.

When we were little, Xia Yan accidentally made the clover ring too big, so we comforted each other, saying that it would be just right if I wore it after we grew up.

And right now… I couldn’t help attempting to fit the ring on my middle finger.

MC: It’s on. The size is perfect…

Xia Yan: Yeah… perfect.

Xia Yan repeated the words in a whisper, then stared quietly at the four-leaf clover ring.

I stroked the ring on my hand. Suddenly…

MC: Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: Huh? What’s the matter?

MC: It seems like I can’t take off the ring…

Xia Yan: Huh?

Xia Yan held up my hand, trying to shift the ring, but the ring didn’t move in the slightest.

His brow wrinkled as he snatched a small plier from the toolbox on the table.

MC: What are you doing!

Alarmed, I stared at Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: I’ve got to hurry and cut off the ring, or else your finger will end up swollen.

MC: I refuse!

Xia Yan: Don’t fuss, this is just a toy ring. Your finger’s more important.

As he spoke, Xia Yan had already grabbed my hand. I rushed to cover the ring with my other hand, resisting desperately.

MC: No way! You gave this ring to me, so it’s mine! I refuse to let you break it!

Xia Yan: Jeez, I’ll make you another one in the future, okay? Be good.

MC: The one in the future is for the future, but you can’t break this ring either!

We traded fast verbal shots without realizing anything. Only after coming back to my senses did I notice… something wasn’t quite right.

MC: !!!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Sit tight, I’ll find some lubricating oil to see if it’ll work.

Xia Yan soon brought the lubricating oil. He applied some to my middle finger first, then tried to rotate the ring gently, trying to push it off.

MC: Ugh…!

Xia Yan immediately stopped.

Xia Yan: It hurts?

Xia Yan: Looks like this really won’t work.

Xia Yan sighed helplessly, then took a small plier from the toolbox.

MC: You’re…

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, I’ll be really careful. I’ll do my best to not break the ring.

Xia Yan: Don’t fidget, I don’t want to hurt you by accident.

To make working on it easier, Xia Yan half-knelt in front of me, holding up the hand with the ring gently.

His actions right now lent a particular ambiguity to the scene all of a sudden.

MC: …!

Xia Yan: What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?

MC: No… keep going.

How exactly… does Xia Yan see me?

Bit by bit, each scene after my reunion flooded my mind.

MC: (Xia Yan’s always carefully held onto this ring for so long…)

MC: (To me… does Xia Yan also…?)

As soon as this thought popped into my head, my heart started to beat wildly.

Although, why didn’t Xia Yan make it clear with me?

⊳ Out of caution ⊳ Because I didn’t give a response

MC: (Speaking of which, there’s often a lot online about long-time friends who are too scared to confess.)

MC: (They were afraid that if the romance failed, they’d lose an important friend.)

MC: (Xia Yan… probably also wanted to be cautious, so he didn’t say anything.)

MC: (If I do a little something, would he… understand?)

⊳ Out of caution ⊳ Because I didn’t give a response

MC: (If I think about it carefully, I think I’ve done a lot of low-EQ stuff…)

MC: (It’s all my fault…)

MC: (I should be able to make changes in time right now… what should I do to get Xia Yan to understand my emotions?)

I was just in the middle of my messy thoughts when I heard Xia Yan’s light voice.

Xia Yan: Alright, it’s off!

Xia Yan: Great Lawyer, hurry and inspect it to see if it’s perfectly fine.

MC: Absolutely perfect! Great Detective Xia, you’re way too amazing!

MC: (Either way… since I’m living at Xia Yan’s house now, I’ve got lots of time to figure something out.)

Xia Yan: What’s the matter? You seem a little absentminded.

MC: Not at all, just wondering about what we should eat for breakfast.

Xia Yan: I know several decent breakfast restaurants. Let’s go, I’ll take you over to try them!

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #xia yan #未定事件簿 #luke pearce #a steel tree has bloomed #yang xiao is cackling rn #this part is a heap of sugar #to balance out everything to come #can you two just get married already

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fate-pride-order · 2 years

Text

Info + Rules

Hi everyone! On this blog, I recreate pride flags by color-picking from Fate/Grand Order characters. Feel free to use them however you want! Credit is appreciated, but not required. Blog inspired by ygoprideflags and operated by spring-ephemeral.

Link to tag list for mobile users (you'll probably have to open it in your browser).

This blog is open to requests, and you can find some guidelines/rules below the cut. Don’t be deterred by the length, I just like being thorough, though TL;DR: Be nice, don’t start discourse and don’t be vague if you want something specific.

Feel free to send in asks if anything is still unclear to you.

Any sorts of bigots or exclusionists will not be tolerated.

1. Any character from FGO with official art can be requested, and I can also put multiple characters on one flag. Asking for multiple flags at once or combination flags is also fine. I will do other characters from the TYPE-MOON franchise if requested, but my main focus will be on FGO.

2. Do not ask for more than three flags per request, and don’t send in another request until all of the ones you asked for last time have been posted. I’m trusting you guys not to misuse anon features for this.

3. No straight/ally flags, no joke/gimmick flags (e.g. rabies, superhell), absolutely no MAP-related flags. Requesting the latter WILL get you blocked. Pride flags related to disability, neurodivergency etc. are allowed.

4. If you want me to use a specific ascension stage for the character, please mention it, otherwise, I’ll just use the one that’s easiest to get the right colors for or that I personally like the most. Also tell me if you want me to use Alter or Summer versions.

5. Asking for some color or positioning adjustments is just fine! But for the former, please remember that I can only do so much with what I have.

6. If there are multiple iterations of a flag (such as the rainbow flag or the aroace flag) or if the flag is relatively obscure, please specify which one you want me to use unless you’re okay with me just taking the first ones that show up on tumblr or Google. For the given examples, if you don’t specify, I will use this rainbow flag and this aroace flag.

7. If you simply say “gay flag”, I will do both the MLM and the rainbow flag, so if you only care for the one, please differentiate in your request.

8. I’ll ONLY use official art (unless you can somehow get permission from the fanartist), and I’ll usually try to go for the Expression Sheets first unless otherwise requested. I might be willing to occasionally make other official art transparent by myself, but I can’t do that for every flag if I want to regularly update. Because of this, some flag/character combinations will just not be possible for color-picking. I can still make you an icon where only some or even none of the colors are picked from the character (usually with some other decorations to make up for it), but I will try to ask you about it beforehand. Art that was created by the official character artists but not implemented in the game still counts as official art and may be requested.

9. Under NO circumstances will I ever make flags for:

Summer Frankenstein (stage 3/4)

Ibuki Douji (Stage 1)

Chloe von Einzbern (any stage)

Jack the Ripper (stage 2-4)

Wu Zetian (stage 2-4)

Mochizuki Chiyome (stage 1)

Kama + Summer Kama (stage 1)

Abigail Williams (stage 2-4)

Summer Abigail Williams (stage 1)

I won’t block you for asking anyway, but I will give you some serious side-eye for some of these.

10. If you try to start debates about my rules (especially #3 or #9) or complain about certain flag/character combinations, there’s a 99% chance I will block you without engaging.

#fgo #fate grand order #pinned

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sapiowoman28 · 3 years

Text

Try (Chapter 1): Just do it.

Pairing: mark x reader x Johnny

Genre: smut fluff undercover Au

Warnings: mentions of drug addiction, cocaine addiction, drug ring, taeyong being a tyrant, y/n being stubborn

Note: I’m sorry TY seems like an asshole in this story. He will get nicer I promise

Note 2: this chapter has no smut.

Read the preview first!!!!

Y/N loathed Doyoung with every fibre of her being, and the feeling was mutual, but Doyoung was nothing compared to the jackass she had to deal with now since D was recovering from that accident which almost killed him.

D understood she had been hacking since she was 14, and gave her a free reign on anything tech related.

Taeyong? Not much.

“What do you mean you can’t extract the data files from the server?”

“We can, but I’m not going to do it. They recently installed some new defence technology that can track everything. We risk getting found out if we extract anything from the server. Then there goes our entire operation.”

Taeyong glared, fist tightening.

“Listen. I don’t want any more excuses. I want the files. By tomorrow. I thought we already discussed this, Y/N.”

“And I made it clear I won’t do it, Taeyong,”

She said firmly

The whole room was silent, tension in the air so thick you could cut a knife through it. Kun looked down, pretending to write in his notebook. Taeil got up and announced he was going to the restroom.

Mark took out his phone. This was going to take a while. He might as well order lunch.

But he was listening, as Taeyong and Y/N argued, both refusing to give in.

“Look, if we get found out and the operation fails, I’ll be the one bearing the responsibility, not you, Y/N. We seriously don’t need to talk about this further. The files, by lunch tomorrow. Understand?”

Y/n looked away.

“Hey Taeyong,” said Taeil who had returned with a cup of coffee. “How about I work with Y/N on this? I’ll speak to my guys undercover at the targets headquarters to see if they can physically extract the info.”

Taeyong’s face softened as he turned to Taeil.

“Your guys can do it?”

“Yuta is in the field...”

“Yuta’s drinking and coke problem has gotten worse,” Y/N scoffed. “I saw him at the club last week.”

“We’re looking for a solution here not bitching at every idea,” Taeyong snapped. He turned to Taeil. “Let’s do that. Work with Y/N.”

Y/N grinned as Taeil smiled affectionately at her like she was his baby sister. Never mind she was 2 months older than he was.

“Let’s do it!” She said.

He found her on the roof in the next evening. He knew she’d be there.

“Hey,” he said softly as they leaned against the railing looking up at the stars in the sky. “So how’s operation Rainbow coming along?”

“Yuta managed to sneak into the CEO’s office and extract the data from his computer. It’s in Taeyong’s inbox now.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah. All the amounts and bank transfers. And emails. We also got info about who they’re canoodling with. Turns out this whole operation is larger than we thought. We’re talking multimillions, maybe billions here. It’s really a drug ring disguised as a family business selling school uniforms for kids.”

“You just made it sound like a movie.”

“Yeah mark, with a coke snorting, booze guzzling anti hero. His head is going to be so big.” She gestured animatedly

Mark laughed as Y/N grinned.

Silence.

“You ok?” He asked, wondering if she was going to mention hacking at 14. “Taeyong has been tough.”

“Taeyong’s an idiot. I’ve been hacking since I was 14! What does he know about tech stuff?” She huffed, eyes growing huge as he chuckled.

“What?”

“I knew you’d say that.” He giggled.

She smiled, then grew serious.

“We’ve worked on this for two years. Imagine all that going to waste just cos he insisted we hack the servers.”

Mark sighed. “You know that’s just Taeyong, dude.”

“I miss going on operations.”

“I’m sure they’ll let you go back soon.”

“Not anytime soon. I’m training Kun and Lucas.”

“Lucas?” He said teasingly. “Must be fun.”

“Don’t.. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That bad huh?”

“I wonder if he’s even computer literate.”

Her phone beeped.

“It’s Taeyong.” She rolled her eyes. “I gotta go. He wants to see me in the study.”

She opened the door to the study. he was looking at some paperwork at his desk.

“You wanted to see me?” She asked plopping herself down on the chair opposite him. He looked up.

“Good work on getting the info we need. They’re sending in a squad in the next few days for a raid after everything has been analysed.”

“Taeil and I work well together.” She said. He agreed.

He put his pen down.

“I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not a fan of you disrupting our operations. Because you refused to extract the data I had to look for alternatives which could have delayed us. We’re lucky Taeil could help.”

She froze. Not again, she thought. She bit her lip. This was a losing battle.

“In future if I tell you to do something just do it. Do you understand?” He asked looking straight at her.

Silence.

“Yes. Is that all?” She asked standing up.

He nodded.

She left without saying anything else.

#nct imagines #nct127 imagines #nct smut #nct127 smut #johnny suh smut #mark lee smut #taeyong smut #kun smut #taeil smut

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starlightinhumanform · 3 years

Text

Friday Night Lights: Chapter Two

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Prinxiety, Platonic Sleepxiety

Summary: Roman and Virgil play opposite positions on their rival high school football teams. It’s the Homecoming game and tensions are high. Neither are willing to lose but one must rise above the other...

Warnings: Descriptions of pain/injury, Moderate language, One mention of drinking (Please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff

A/N: Well... nearly a year since the first chapter came out I’m finally writing again!!! I really love this AU (even though I know very little about football lmao) and I have a lot of ideas about how I would like to include more Sanders Sides characters into this world. If I can get some more of my unfinished fics done, I really want to expand this series. Until then, I hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Chapter One Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

The first play passed by in a blink. Most of the guys at the front went down quickly, even the largest crumpling under Prince and his brigade. Somehow in the chaos, the ball had been passed to Remy instead of Virgil and the fullback was tackled to the ground.

Virgil rolled his eyes at Remy as the team fell back into formation, only a few feet forward from where they had begun, “Dude, why’d the fuck did it get passed to you? It’s not like a knucklehead like you would know what to do with it.”

Remy huffed a laugh in response, “I have no clue. I’ll make sure it gets to you this time… hopefully.”

He glanced over in the direction that Remy was grimacing. It was Prince, of course, lumbering toward his position with what seemed to Virgil to be nothing but brutish arrogance. Roman acted like the entire game was about him; he acted like it was West Shore Vs Roman instead of West Shore Vs Knights. He probably didn’t even care about the game— it was all about showing off.

Crouched in the back of the formation, it was hard to see anyone at the front but he could picture Roman, somehow managing to smirk behind his mouthguard. Virgil hoped that Remy would rub his face in the turf.

—————————————-

Roman prepared for the second down, glad to see that the jock in front of him wasn’t looking nearly as confident as he had at the first down. Knocking someone to the ground always seemed to do the trick.

The ball was hurled straight back to Tempeste and the bitch who had growled at him earlier didn’t even try to block Roman. Good. All that was left between him and the weird little halfback was Remy Ristretto.

Roman tried to steady himself before the expected slam, but Ristretto’s tackle hit him low in the stomach, managing to knock him off balance. From the ground, he could just barely see the purple form of Tempeste weaving down the field and avoiding every single one of the Monarch Knight’s defense.

Roman tried to throw off the weight of the boy on his back but found himself thoroughly pinned down. His mouth was filled with the taste of plastic turf and dusty rubber and almost the entirety of his vision was blocked by the grape juice flavoured uniform on top of him. It was humiliating. And Tempeste was still running, reaching the end zone without being touched by a single Knight. It was like his feet didn’t even touch the ground, flying across the field.

The West Shore team were given the chance to make a field goal, and made it, but Roman hardly noticed. He was too busy grumbling about how he was going to get back at Tempeste the second he got the chance.

—————————————-

By halftime, Virgil felt like he had been driven over by a steamroller. Multiple times. A steamroller covered in baseball bats.

As the marching band paraded past where Virgil was sitting, he wondered vaguely about the operability of a steamroller that had baseball bats attached to it. Maybe the hit he had taken to the head earlier in the game had been harder than he thought.

Remy sat down besides him, “What’s going on in that big old head of yours?”

“Uhhhhh, a lot of cartoon gong sound effects. Now that I think about it, that might just be the band.”

Virgil looked out across the field as the marching band made their final pass around the turf. The sky was completely dark by now but the stadium glowed bright as day under the huge lights. It was always wonderfully surreal to Virgil, the time of night when the field became its own little world still holding onto the glory of day. He hoped glory was still how he felt about this field by the end of the game. The alternative would be shame; the alternative would be defeat.

And defeat was not an option for a game right before homecoming. It’s not that Virgil particularly cared about the school dances, quite the opposite in fact, he hated them. They were crowded, noisy, and you had to wear uncomfortable clothes and stand around with a bunch of people you don’t like instead of being at home watching scary movies and eating pizza in your pajamas. But there’s only one thing worse than going to a school dance— going to the a school dance after losing the biggest game of the season.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Remy’s voice broke through Virgil’s thoughts, “Well stop it. We’re ahead of the Knights—“

“Barely.”

“—you’ve made some great runs so far—“

“I’ve gotten blocked plenty of times too.”

“—and you’re always at your best in the second half of the game. Now stop putting all your energy towards making the little hamster wheel in your brain turn faster and go use it on the field. C’mon man, the third quarter is about to start.”

Virgil shook his head as if to dislodge the distracting thoughts, letting his purple bangs fall in front of his face for a moment before brushing them back and putting his helmet on. Remy was right. Virgil had started football as a way to channel his anxiety, not to cause himself more. He just needed to get on that field and start running.

He jumped up and started bouncing on his feet, letting the adrenaline flow through his body until it felt like he was buzzing. Virgil was ready to win.

—————————————-

Roman was ready to win.

He could feel it boiling in stomach, the drive, the push to alway be the best. The teams had been neck-and-neck the entire game but West Shore’s grape-coloured menace had managed to scrape by with a slight lead by the end of the second quarter. Roman had no idea how Tempeste could even run that fast; he had short little legs and was about as delicate as a twig. Maybe West Shore just hooked him up to a car battery and gave him 20 energy drinks before every game.

However they made it happen, the kid could run. He didn’t look like he belonged on a football team, more like a trackstar or even a dancer. Roman knew he looked like a football player— tall, with broad shoulders and a thick waist, his extra weight part of what made him such a good defense. But Tempeste... he was like no player Roman had ever seen. Maybe that’s why Roman couldn’t beat him like any other player.

As the teams fell into formation, Roman looked across the row of helmets and accidentally made eye contact with Virgil. His stare burned with intensity. Roman hated to admit it, but he liked that about the rival school’s halfback, the feverish energy that seemed to storm around him. In fact, if Roman was being really honest, he loved playing against the West Shore because he loved playing against Tempeste. The energy was infectious. Playing against him made Roman want to run faster, hit harder, be better.

Roman smiled behind the mouthguard that rested on his bottom teeth. Maybe he did know how to beat Virgil; maybe he had to be just as crazy and vicious as his opponent.

—————————————-

Virgil knew what it felt like to get tackled. In his high school career he had gotten jumped on top and thrown to the ground by various sweaty, muscly dudes more times than he could ever dream of counting or would ever care to. He had been dragged to the ground, sat on, and pushed over from every angle and in every way.

But he had never, never felt a tackle like Roman’s in the beginning of the third quarter of that game.

He saw it coming, practically in slow motion, before Prince actually hit him. The boy’s shoulders were nearly twice as big as Virgil’s even with all his gear. He came charging towards Virgil head-down like a bull, his bright red helmet set with a direct trajectory to Virgil’s solar plexus.

Virgil tried to sidestep, skirting just past the moving wall of Roman Prince, but somehow Roman was moving simply too fast. The impact struck just at his core and a deep kind of pain, like a bruise that goes all the way to the bone, resonated outwards through his entire body. A vibration ran all the way to his fingertips.

Virgil could see the crowd going wild, booing and cheering and maybe just screaming with no inflection, making noise for the hell of it. He couldn’t hear any of it. Maybe the entire world had been put on mute or maybe the ringing in his ears was drowning it out.

He fell backwards and Roman flew over him, momentum carrying him forward. When he landed— and boy, did he land— he fell on directly onto Virgil’s chest. Virgil thought Roman had knocked the wind out of him by hitting him in the sternum. By landing flat on his chest with the entire bulk of his body, Roman found another ounce of breath left in Virgil’s body to shock out of him.

His vision and hearing tunneled out, focusing on the one thing capturing his entire attention: Roman. The boy on top of him was heavy, crushing Virgil through his thick shoulder pads. The heat of Prince’s body spread through his gear as well, although, based on the sweat damping his hairline, Virgil really wasn’t one to talk.

Roman was strong, stronger than him. Virgil tried to squirm away but he could feel Prince throwing his weight downwards and his arms straining to keep Virgil caged to the ground.

Just as intense as his physical strength, Prince’s eyes seemed to burn. Before, they always seemed to be depthless, simply dark and brutish like a bear. Now, breathlessly close, there seemed to be a light behind them, a thousand times brighter than the stadium lights. Gold tones shining through the dark brown of his eyes. It was the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen. It was also easily one of the most terrifying things he’d ever seen.

Virgil kept the ball close to his chest. As long as he could keep it, the West Shore team would still have possession and could continue to move forward across the field. They could still win.

—————————————-

Roman had Tempeste pinned to the ground and somehow it was the most exhilarating thing he had ever done. Which isn’t to say he had never tackled the halfback before— they had been playing against each other for several years now— but this was different somehow, more personal.

Tempeste growled beneath him, wriggling to escape the tackle like water slipping between his fingers. Roman push down harder, refusing to let him go.

Footsteps pounded behind them, turf crunching under the stampede of Knights quickly charging forward. Roman braced himself for the pile-up he knew was coming, over a thousand pounds worth of his team jumping to join the tackle.

One guy slammed into Roman’s back then another, then another. The pressure of the game must have been getting to them as well because they threw themselves at Roman and Tempeste like a pack of wild animals.

It felt like every single Knight, including the offense players, were joining the tackle. And feel was the correct term. He could hardly see anything besides Tempeste’s face within his purple helmet. But he could feel everything, every hit of his teammates as their full weight fell against his back. Beneath him, Tempeste’s breath began quickening, like he was sprinting again. But of course he wasn’t, he was pinned down just like Roman was.

Roman glanced down into the depths of Virgil’s helmet, searching past the grill. Shining in the dark, his eyes caught a small reflection of the stadium lights. They were large, startled, and obviously panicked. He looked like a trapped animal and his breathing only continued to become more rapid.

Their eyes met as Roman looked down and he realized this was the first time he had ever seen Virgil look really, truly afraid. He had seen Tempeste in the fourth quarter, 20 points behind and looking as determined and fierce as ever. He had seen Tempeste sprint across the field, followed by the entire Monarchs team, with a huge grin on his face like there was nothing he would rather do than be hunted after. He had seen Tempeste stand toe-toe-to, small chest puffed out and jaw set confidently, with some guy over a foot taller than him because he tried to mouth off about Virgil’s ability. He had never seen him like this.

“Hey, it’s going to be ok,” Roman set his helmet grill against Virgil’s. He knew Virgil couldn’t hear him and probably didn’t even know why he was putting his face so close. Hell, Roman didn’t even know why he was doing it. There was something about Virgil’s genuine fear that he felt the need to comfort him, tell him that it was just a game, that he would be alright.

The weight of another player hit him and Roman was slammed against Virgil’s chest. The sudden shift forced Roman onto his wrist, the small joint carrying him and the entirety of his team. Something cracked. He gasped sharply as pain struck every molecule in his body. Roman’s vision went black.

—————————————-

Virgil sat in the locker room, staring vaguely across at the rows of blue shelves in front of him as he held a pack of ice against his shoulder. The nurse said that it might have been dislocated in the pileup.

He wished he could blame it on Roman, that oaf was the one who had tackled him to begin with. He couldn’t though. It was Roman’s job to tackle him and that’s exactly what Roman had done and as much as it confused and somewhat infuriated Virgil, he also knew the other boy had protected him from the blunt force of his teammates. Why? Why would he do that?

Dull pain throbbed through the entirety of his body, clouding his mind. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what had happened.

Virgil was pretty sure Roman got hurt too. As he had walked off the field, gritting his teeth, he caught a glimpse of Prince cradling his hand as he walked in the opposite direction.

It was one hell of a pileup; four years of football and he had only been in a tangle that bad the first time he had played against the Monarchs. Maybe he and Roman were just destined to create disasters.

Virgil grimaced as his mind kept wandering back to Roman. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but worry if Prince was alright. Virgil had no idea what was going on in his mind, or on the field, or in the locker room on the other side.

—————————————-

Roman was bored. He sat on the bleachers, watching the game drag on ahead of him as he held a pack of ice to his wrist. The nurse had told him it was probably just strained but Roman wasn’t convinced. He could feel the ache throbbing up his arm with every beat of his heart. Between the pain and the pressure spreading out from grinding his teeth, Roman’s head was trapped in a haze that he could barely see through.

From what he could tell, the Monarch Knights were winning. With Virgil out, Westshore’s offense had been greatly weakened. Roman hardly cared; he wasn’t out there, Virgil wasn’t out there, none of the spark was left in the game. What was the point of winning if there was no one to win against?

The crowd roared as the final quarter came to a close. The Knights won, but Roman didn’t. He felt disappointed, dejected, and like he didn’t quite understand where he was. This wasn’t his game.

The night came to an end and Roman opted to go straight to the locker room instead of shaking hands with the other team, blaming it on his wrist. Usually, he loved facing the other team after a win— admittedly because it gave him a chance to gloat over them— but he just couldn’t find that same feeling tonight.

—————————————-

Virgil leaned against a cold concrete wall of the bleachers, staring up at the stadium light’s false sun above him. If he looked far enough, he could find the dark sky and the twinkling lights of the city below him and beyond the intense glow of the school.

A cool breeze was picking up as the world shifted into night. It was beautiful but Virgil couldn’t appreciate it. He just wished there had been some sort of ending, a closure of some kind. He and Prince’s last hurrah against each other. But they hadn’t gotten a hurrah, all they got was a game that petered out and came to sputtering stop as they both sat on the sidelines. Virgil didn’t even care that West Shore lost; it was never about West Shore and the Monarchs. It was about him and Roman.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, “You mind if I join your sulking or would you rather be left alone to mope?”

Virgil spun around, his body tensing at Roman’s voice and sending a twinge of pain down from his shoulder, “What do you want?”

Roman stepped closer, “I told you, I came to sulk with you because that’s obviously what we’re both doing.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right well... fuck off.”

“Man, I thought you might bite before but now I’m sure of it.”

Prince took another casual step forward as Virgil’s mind began racing. What is he doing? Virgil’s eyes swept over Roman. He had never really seen him out of his football uniform and damn. In denim jeans and a red tee shirt, Virgil was actually able to see him for the first time. Most guys were greatly exaggerated by the uniform, making them look bigger and stronger, but nope, Roman was really just built like that. His gaze reached Prince’s face. Like the rest of his body, his features looked like they had been sculpted and chiseled like some type of statue. He was reminded of how beautiful Roman’s eyes were when he actually took the time to look at them, the warm shades of brown filtering through each other.

“Uh, what are you looking at?” Roman laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the edge of his voice.

Virgil felt blood rushing to his face as a deep blush rose to his cheeks. He had been staring, hadn’t he? “Sorry.”

Roman stepped even closer, clearing his throat again, “I actually came over here because... I wanted just wanted to tell you I’ve really enjoyed playing against you. And it can’t just be summed up by saying ‘good game;’ it’s been a hell of a good four years... you’re a phenomenal player.”

Virgil stared down at his feet. This was not what he had been expecting, not that he had been expecting any of this, “You know... it hasn’t been easy to be the smallest person on the team— shit, I’m the smallest player in any of the district teams. I don’t think I would have kept playing, or would have tried as hard to stay on the team if I wasn’t absolutely set on kicking your ass.”

Roman laughed— a deep, genuine sound flooding from somewhere in his broad chest— and Virgil couldn’t help but grin.

“So yeah... thanks for that. And good game,” Virgil smiled up at the other boy.

“Well, we can’t exactly shake hands like usual,” Roman glanced down at his swollen wrist and Virgil’s shoulder that he was still nursing.

“Can we do something else then?” Virgil moved so he was standing face to face with Roman, his heart pounding in his ears.

Virgil could feel Roman’s breathing quicken as he reached up with his good arm, sliding his hand to the base of Roman’s neck. Put he didn’t startle, he didn’t try to move away. If anything, he seemed to be leaning into the touch.

Virgil moved forward, standing on the tips of his toes to press his lips against Roman’s. For a horrific second, he thought Roman wouldn’t return it but after a moment of apparent shock, Roman bowed his head to deepen the kiss. He tipped them forward, supporting the entirety of Virgil’s weight with his uninjured hand.

When they finally broke away, Virgil was completely breathless. He definitely hadn’t seen that coming at the beginning of the evening.

Roman looked equally surprised but he began grinning like an idiot as the realization of what had just happened settled over him, “Can we do that again??”

Virgil laughed at Roman’s eager, puppy-dog-eyes expression, “At least buy me a drink first.”

“Well, I can’t exactly do that seeing as we’re both like 17–“

“Excuse you, I’m 18,” Virgil stuck his tongue out in mock indignation.

“Yeah, well, uh, would you maybe want to go to homecoming with me?” Roman began rushing his words out, “I mean, I totally get if not. There’s absolutely no pressure. And I’m sure you already have plans so—“

“That’d be cool,” Virgil broke in, “I’d really, really like that.”

Roman’s face once again broke into a beaming smile, “Really??”

“Yeah you big idiot, that’s why I said it. Besides, it’s awful going to a dance after losing a game so I might as well bring a trophy,” Virgil slipped his hand into Roman’s and began leading them out of the stadium and into the parking lot. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened tonight. He had started the evening determined to win, but even though West Shore lost, he didn’t feel disappointed.

Virgil looked at the silhouette of Roman against the fading campus lights as he walked alongside him. Maybe he had won something even more important than the game.

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#roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #roman x virgil #prinxiety high school au #sander sides #sanders side fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides high school au #prinxiexty fluff #starlight writes #Friday Night Lights #did I say I was going to post this on thursday and then decided to push it until friday but then i went on a date #and absolutely did not get this posted so now I’m posting it on saturday #maybe

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anthemxix · 3 years

Text

whumpay bonus: deleted scenes

my final offering to you for the month~ :)

there were some prompts i started to write but didn't finish, and a few instances where i began a prompt, decided it wasn't working, and then completely started over. i have no idea if these scraps will interest anyone, but it seemed like a shame for them to go to waste. so i hope you enjoy :) thank you <3 <3 <3

day 4, part 2 (fire) - first attempt

“Can I just say again that I really don’t like this plan?”

Wind groaned. “We know, Captain. You’ve been saying that every five minutes.”

“Because it’s a terrible plan!”

Scowling, Wind shuffled back from the impossibly massive archway he’d been peering through. “Look, we decided on the plan hours ago, so just give it a rest already.”

Sky cleared his throat. “Well. I’d like to say that I don’t like this plan either.”

“Oh, how nice of you to contribute that, Sky,” Warriors growled, rounding on him. “Couldn’t have said anything before the literal last minute?”

“Hey, I’ve dissented to this idea the whole time,” Sky retorted, holding his hands up defensively. “Not just because it’s dangerous, but because it’s not our place to meddle in local political affairs.”

“Agreed,” Warriors said. “We’re putting that whole town at risk. It’s not too late to turn back.”

“Since when do you run away from a fight?” Wind goaded.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Time said. Five heads turned his way, expectant, tense, and he sighed in resignation. “The Sailor is correct. We discussed the merits and drawbacks this morning. We’re committed to this plan now. I’m sorry, Captain.”

Wind smirked triumphantly despite Warriors’ heavy frown. “Great. I’ll see you all later then.”

He offered a sloppy salute and turned towards the archway, only for Warriors to grab his arm and spin him back around.

“Ugh, now what?” Wind griped. “You heard the Old Man! The plan is a go!”

The Captain grasped both of Wind’s shoulders and ducked to his eye level, his expression all hard lines. “Listen. At the first sign of danger, you get out of there. This is not worth sacrificing your life over.”

Wind defiantly tried (and failed) to wiggle out of his iron grip. “I’m gonna be fine, Wars! Why don’t you trust me? I’m the most skilled thief we’ve got!”

“I do trust you, and I don’t doubt your skills in the least,” Warriors said. “It’s just…” He hesitated, swallowed. “Tell me you’ll get out of there as soon as there’s trouble. Don’t be reckless.”

The somberness and sincerity (and was that fear?) in Warriors’ tone was sobering, and Wind finally conceded, “I will. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

Warriors’ hands lingered on his shoulders a moment longer, and Wind was surprised to find he missed their weight when they were gone. He didn’t dwell on it, though, nor did he look back as he deftly slipped through the stone archway and disappeared over the ledge.

The Captain crossed his arms, not bothering to conceal his concern as he watched Wind go, and Legend murmured to him, “Hey. You don’t do anything reckless either. Got it?”

“Of course.”

They all knew he was lying.

---

The chamber Wind had entered was more astronomical than any he’d ever seen—it must have filled the entire berth of the mountain, he thought—and even more wondrous still, it was jam-packed with mound upon mound of shimmering rupees, jewels, armor, weapons, vases…treasure. The most extensive treasure trove in this or any era, surely.

Wind grinned to himself. Tetra and her crew would never believe this. Maybe he could smuggle out a shiny little gift for them.

He picked his way across the hills of treasure, disturbing them as little as possible, and stopped near a colossal column. Steadying himself on it, Wind peered around the enormous chamber, and, for the first time since they’d departed the lakeside town that morning, felt a flicker of dismay. He had, of course, expected that locating one specific gemstone in a vast hoard of treasure would be difficult, but he’d underestimated the task. Like kind of, really, severely underestimated the task.

Well, no matter. He didn’t make it this far in his adventures by shying away from impossible odds. Besides, he felt he was graced with the goddesses’ favor today. He and the others had climbed up the mountain, strongarmed their way into the mines, and navigated the maze of corridors without one blip of trouble—and, best of all, there was no sign of the one major threat they’d been warned about again and again.

Wind smiled as he continued across the treasure trove, pausing to sift through some of it now and again. He just needed to be patient and deliberate and quiet, and then he could sneak back over to where the others were waiting and prove to them what a capable hero he was. Warriors said he didn’t doubt Wind’s skills, but he must, at least a little, or he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to let Wind do this.

The Sailor peered across the chamber towards the archway he’d come through. It was well above him now, as he’d descended from the peak of a treasure mound, although he was nowhere near the floor yet. The candle chandeliers suspended from the cavern’s apex offered a fair amount of light, which reflected brilliantly from all the gold rupees and splendid diamonds, but it was not sufficient to see any of his friends.

All the better, he thought as he continued his hunt. If he couldn’t see them, then neither could their enemy, whose other senses outweighed its sight—as he’d been repeatedly reminded by the others, who had all info-dumped him on this particular foe, as if he hadn’t dealt with any himself before.

Wind really did not understand what all the fuss was about. What made this different than any other dungeon, or any other enemy therein? Yes, this particular mission was complicated by the fact that they were helping restore some fallen regent and give him access to this treasure hoard without having all the details on the guy. Wind regularly operated without having all the details, even on missions as significant as this, and he suspected the others did as well, so he wasn’t too concerned about that.

But what was the big deal with the enemy? He understood that provoking this monster put the proximal town at risk, but didn’t that happen with every big baddie they faced? What was so different about this—?

Wind froze, thoughts cut off as he tuned in to the nearby jingle of tumbling rupees. He slowly turned his head, hand on the Phantom Sword’s hilt, expecting to see some stalfos or something emerging from the depths. There had to be someone guarding this treasure, after all.

He was not anticipating a stream of treasure would part to reveal the snout of a dragon sighing in its sleep.

Panic jangled Wind’s nerves, and suddenly he felt like he understood Warriors’ reluctance very clearly.

The tip of this dragon’s muzzle was utterly massive, with yellow, jagged teeth as tall as Wind protruding from its mouth. The rest of it, still concealed by treasure, must have been unimaginably gargantuan. Its steady breaths smelled ominously ashy.

Wind backed up a step, rupees clinking beneath his foot, and held his breath. Perhaps it was time to return to his friends…

As he began to creep back towards the archway, leaving the dragon’s snout a considerable berth, Wind felt a tug of magic. It wasn’t a variety of magic he recognized, but the sensation was unmistakable. His eyes darted around, scanning, until they landed on a strikingly sparkly gemstone, iridescent and oval-shaped and nearly the size of his head.

Dumbfounded, Wind blinked. That. That was the stone! It had to be!

It wasn’t too far from him, but it was downhill, i.e., in the opposite direction of his destination. But he was so close. He couldn’t give up now.

Wind threw a cursory look at the dragon snout before switching course and tiptoeing down towards the stone.

There was another rattling jangle behind him, and Wind paled as treasure shifted to reveal some of the dragon’s tail, ridiculously far from where the snout lie. He tried not to let this bother him as he reached the stone and carefully tucked it into his bag.

Acquiring the target item filled him with some relief, and he started the long trek up the treasure mountains to reach the archway, choosing his footholds cautiously.

He was halfway there when he slipped, smacking face-first into the rupee pile and backsliding several meters with an insufferably loud clanking from the treasure.

He froze, breath bated, heart slowed, as he gazed over at the dragon.

It didn’t move.

Releasing a soft sigh, he straightened up, prepared to resume his ascent, when the dragon snorted.

With dreadful slowness, it lifted its head from its beloved treasure, amber eyes flitting around its chamber as it swiveled its long neck around, searching.

Then it slowly rose, gems and gold cascading from its back, as its enormous, folded wings appeared.

Wide-eyed, Wind didn’t move. He couldn’t. This was, by far, the largest creature he’d ever seen.

The dragon inhaled a great snuff of air, sniffing, then another. Forked tongue flickered between menacing teeth.

And then it spoke, its baritone voice echoing off the mountain walls as it dragged out each syllable.

“Where—are—you?”

Wind couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his hands. Some coins jingled, and the dragon gazed in Wind’s general direction. It didn’t see him.

“I know you’re here,” the dragon drawled. “I can smell you. I can hear your breathing.”

One massive, clawed foot rose from the treasure depths, smacking down on top of a pile.

Swallowing, Wind shakily began to climb again, with painstaking slowness, on his hands and knees. He was good at stealth. He could do this. Absolutely.

“I can sense your fear. Little thief.”

He faltered, hand twitching, but continued. Slow. Steady. Come on. You can do it.

The dragon lifted another foot, and its third and fourth, until it was fully free of the treasure, its tail swishing in its wake. It grazed against the high chandeliers, causing them to quiver and shoot strange fluttering shadows across the room.

“I do not have much patience for foolish little thieves.” The dragon drew a deep, rumbling breath, its chest beginning to glow a burning orange. Smoke began to filter from its nostrils. “Come out.”

Wind looked up. The archway was still so far away. He tried to move more quickly while staying as noiseless as possible. He had to hurry. He was running out of time. As soon as he got there, they could escape unseen—

“If you come out now, little thief, I won’t kill your friends quite so painfully.”

Wind tripped again, setting off a mini-avalanche of treasure.

The dragon’s head snapped in his direction, its eyes narrowing and lipless mouth curling as if in a smirk. It took a step towards him, and another, its claws clinking as the dangerous orange glow built up along its neck, up its throat, more smoke churning from its snout.

“Are you over there, little thief? I’ll give you one more chance. Come out. Now.”

Wind scrabbled, slipping again, sending more treasure tumbling, and when the dragon opened its mouth, its internal flame heating the room significantly, he lost all caution and tried to run.

---

When the dragon lifted its head, Legend wrapped his hand firmly around Warriors’ elbow.

As more and more of the dragon emerged from the depths, Four said quietly, “I think we need to prepare.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and Legend frowned. Reluctantly, he released Warriors’ arm and muttered, “Old Man, keep an eye on him.”

Time nodded, eyes already on the Captain, and Legend, Sky, and Four headed out for their destination.

Time pulled out his Biggoron Sword, watching the dragon take a step, its booming threats resounding around the chamber. He picked out Wind among the mountains of treasure.

“I need you to know,” the Captain started, drawing Time’s attention, “that I cannot live with myself if he…”

Time nodded, even though Warriors wasn’t looking at him.

“If he goes down, I’m going to save him or die trying,” Warriors said. “Those are the only options.”

“I know.”

Warriors looked at him grimly. “It’s been an honor fighting by your side again.”

Time put a hand on Warriors’ shoulder, and left it there until the dragon opened its mouth, and Warriors jumped down into the pit of gold without another word.

---

Warriors aimed for the dragon’s amber eye, but hit its cheek instead. The arrow bounced uselessly off the impenetrable scales, and Warriors doubted the beast could even feel it; yet the dragon, to his relief, turned towards him.

Warriors nocked another arrow and shot again for the eye, but the dragon simply lowered its head, bringing it close to the Captain, heat radiating from it.

“Another little Hylian,” drawled the dragon. “Where did all your little friends scurry off to, hm?”

day 10 (screaming/silence) - unfinished

Distinguishing night from day is impossible in these woods; the opaque fog that consumes them occludes both sun- and moonlight, perpetually casting a bland grey pall across the trees. It’s disorienting, and Time has entirely lost his grip on the passage of his namesake. He has no conception of how long he and Sky have been wandering around this forest, searching for an exit, and that disconnect disturbs him, prickles beneath his skin.

When Time spots an x carved into a tree trunk, he stops and drags his hand through his hair with a sigh.

Lagging several paces behind him, Sky, too, pauses. “What is it?”

Time points to the marking. “We’ve been here before.”

It takes Sky a moment to register what he’s being told, and then he visibly wilts like an underwatered flower. “Great. That’s great.”

“I can’t keep track of this place,” Time confesses. “It’s as if it’s…shifting.”

“Or we’re getting shifted,” Sky says. “Wild said the fog in his Lost Woods can move him.”

“That’s…unsettling, to say the least.” Time glances skyward out of habit and frowns in annoyance as he’s reminded that he can’t see the sun here. “How long do you think we’ve been walking?”

“I…I really don’t know.”

The elder hero side-eyes Sky, who, alarmingly, appears considerably more ill than he did before. Some time ago, the two of them had stopped to sleep, certain they’d meandered the day away, and Sky woke up dizzy and pale. He insisted he was fine to continue—for what other option did they have?—but he had been growing more and more sluggish as they walked. Now he grips his sailcloth, pulling it tight around his shoulders like a blanket, and looks as colorless as the fog, swaying slightly where he stands.

“Do you need to rest?” Time asks.

Immediately, Sky shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I just want to get out of here.” Sky releases his sailcloth to scratch behind his ear, something Time has observed him doing on multiple occasions today (tonight?).

“You keep scratching,” Time says, gesturing towards his own ear.

“What?”

“Your ear. You keep scratching there.”

“Oh…” Sky removes his hand and clutches his sailcloth again. “I dunno. It really itches for some reason. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Time steps towards him and brushes Sky’s hair aside to see a small but very red bump. “Looks like an insect bite. You should leave it alone.”

Sky hums in acknowledgement. “Let’s keep moving.”

Unsatisfied, Time chooses a direction for them to proceed in. He thinks they’ve taken a different turn than the last time they crossed paths with this tree, but he can’t be certain. Before they leave the area, he pulls out a knife and marks the trunk with a second x.

Time has no idea how long it takes, but eventually, they wind up back at the same damn tree.

His eye twitches as he scrubs a hand over his face. “Okay. We need a new plan bec—”

“Uh, Time?”

He looks behind him to see Sky holding one hand out, blood smudged across his fingers. “What—?” Then he spots the blood trickling down Sky’s neck, staining his hair.

Time moves closer and brushes Sky’s hair aside again, causing the knight to jump a little. “What are you doing?”

Substantially more inflamed, the insect bite behind Sky’s ear has split open. Worse, now that Time is up close, he can see that Sky’s hands are shaking and his pallid cheeks are blemished with feverish pink blooms. “You scratched the bite so much that it’s bleeding… Let’s clean it up.”

He steers Sky beneath the contemptible tree and sets to work washing the bite. It’s worryingly hot to the touch, but what really dismays Time is that the bump, which he expected to feel malleable, is hard, as if there’s a stone beneath Sky’s skin.

“Sky, are you allergic to insect bites?”

“No… I don’t think so? I don’t know, really.”

As soon as Time finishes bandaging the bite, Sky is reaching up to scratch it. Time grabs his hand. “Sky. It is imperative that you do not touch that.”

“But it—” He makes a throaty, frustrated sound. “It itches so badly.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do about that.” Time looks around, as if he’ll magically spy an exit from the woods that he somehow missed before.

“Okay. Okay.” Sky grits his teeth and clenches his sailcloth until his knuckles turn white.

day 17 (phobia) - first attempt

For half an hour, rain had been falling in a steady, serene drizzle so light that Sky hardly noticed it until a stray droplet snaked beneath his tunic collar, slithering cold and uncomfortable down his spine. Absently, he scratched at his collar, as if that would alleviate the remarkably unsettling sensation, just as the rainfall picked up.

He blinked up at the sky, which brimmed with plump, grey clouds, promising wet weather for the remainder of the afternoon.

“Guess there’s no point in waiting out the rain,” he commented over the downpour’s soothing heartbeat.

Beside him, Legend swept his damp hair away from his eyes, minutely scowling. “Yeah, let’s just keep going. The sooner we meet up with the others, the sooner we can track down some suitable shelter for the night.”

Sky hummed his agreement, hoping that in scouting this new area they’d been dropped in, some of the others had found a town. He and Legend had discovered an overgrown trail and followed it for most of the morning, but their efforts were fruitless, as the path seemed to stretch endlessly through uninhabited wilderness.

Minutes later, a resonant boom of thunder rolled across the sky, followed swiftly by a flickering tongue of lightning in the near-distance. All of Sky’s muscles locked up so suddenly that he awkwardly stumbled, only staying upright because Legend’s hand shot out to catch him.

“You okay there, bird boy?” Legend asked, eyebrows arched.

“Yeah, of course,” Sky murmured. “Tripped. That’s all.”

He reached back and grabbed a handful of his sailcloth, pinching and rubbing the silken fabric as he tried to ignore Legend’s scrutinizing stare boring into his temple.

day 25 (goodbye) - unfinished

Dinner is eaten, the dishes washed and packed, and the campfire doused, all in dreary silence. As the last of the fire’s smoke dissipates, Wind speaks. “What happens if we don't go through them? Will they disappear?”

No one answers for a moment. Eventually, Legend says, “We have to go through, small fry.”

“I— I know,” Wind stammers. “I’m just asking, like...what if we didn’t? What would happen?”

“Hypothetically,” Hryule offers.

“Yeah! It’s hypothetical.”

“There’s no reason to consider hypotheticals,” Legend says.

“There’s not,” Wild agrees bitterly. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

He stands, gathering his belongings with a scowl as he adds, “As a matter of fact, we should get this over with.”

“Wait!” Wind jumps up, practically vaults across the now-damp firewood to grasp Wild’s arm.

“No, there's no point in stalling any longer,” Wild says, even as he involuntarily leans into Wind’s touch.

“Of course there is,” Wind argues, eyes wet. “Any more time I can have with you guys is worth it. Even just one extra minute.”

Wild looks away from him as he lightly pulls out of Wind’s hold.

Legend stands now, too, eyes averted. “You’re just making this harder, kid.”

“Goodbyes are always hard,” Four says quietly.

Another moment of silence lapses, until Time stands, plates of his armor shifting.

day 29 (lies/terrible truth) - first attempt

In the lean privacy of a secluded clearing, Twilight offered his confession without pretense or embellishment, a simple statement of facts. He didn’t appear nervous as he spoke, like someone who had been caught off-guard might; rather, he seemed resigned, his words rehearsed, as if he’d known this conversation was an inevitability.

Wild expected—hoped—he would glimpse some relief on Twilight’s face when the confession was done, but that wasn’t the case. He seemed sorrowful, ailing, but not relieved to be rid of the heavy secret he’d burdened himself with. Not remorseful for his wrongdoing.

The oddest thing about this moment, Wild thought as Twilight looked squarely into his eyes, was the quietness. How could the moment feel so still and calm, even as it decimated him? Even as it violently impressed its place into his personal history as a pivotal event? Even as it cleaved his life into a clear before and after?

Through Wild’s cluttered, confused thoughts floated a memory. Not a century-old, faded memory, the kind that abruptly flickered to life in the deepest fathoms of his subconscious and dragged him into catatonia. No, this memory was recent, crisp, bright. He could still feel this memory, could still smell its scents and hear its sounds. It replayed over and over, an inescapable loop, as he stared at the man who only minutes before had his unshakeable trust, his highest admiration, his purest love.

Wild broke eye contact and shook his head, trying to clear it. “You’re lying. You have to be. This makes no sense.”

He only looked back to Twilight when he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn. He came face-to-face with Twilight’s blade and reflexively jumped back, hand flying to the hilt on his back.

#i save nearly everything i write #i have a doc for 'scraps'#stuff that i've discarded for whatever reason #but that i like enough to save #and it's got 15k+ words atm #not counting this whumpay stuff #and i've considered sharing some #but i didn't know if anyone would be interested #so i guess we'll see how this post does lol #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #whumpay2021

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