#but when do we all collectively start putting respect on its name for [gestures at the points i just made]

[kaftan]

Animorphs rambling incoming:

i don’t think people who haven’t read Animorphs understand that Animorphs is the quintessential “childhood trauma in a sff setting” narrative. but people need to understand. because at its core, past the simplified synopsis (six kids gain the power to turn into animals so they can fight the aliens that are infiltrating Earth by sneaking into people’s brains!), Animorphs is a war story. it’s not a story about a war that just so happens to star children--it’s about child soldiers. Applegate and her co-authors made a choice to refuse to dress it up as “kid superheroes save the day!” because they wanted that message to sink in.

it’s hard to really convey this fact about the series with any number of words because you really need to read it yourself, you need to experience the crumbling of naivete and slow erosion of morality and steady piling up of casualties over ~1.4 million words. but... between the moments of levity, goofiness, and genuine fun (which the series is full of! they’re welcome breaks from the many grimmer scenes) the message of the cost of war, the way it destroys children, is always present. it’s sobering.

even outside the war context, it’s all the little things: symptoms of PTSD like rachel’s increasing aggression / jake’s listlessness and depression / everyone’s hypervigilance and self loathing; the hopeless of knowing as a child that no one is coming to save us; that moment in #19 where marco is desperately trying to lift the team’s spirits by Using Humor To Cope but every joke falls flat; the repeated scenes of different animorphs mourning the people they used to be and the world they can never return to; i could go on and on--it’s all of these things that are emblematic of childhood trauma in general. try as i might, i can’t think of any other series that does what Animorphs does with extended narratives of trauma, period. that’s why i’m nuts about these books. that’s why i think everyone needs to read them.

thanks for attending this impromptu TED talk.

[anonymousfoz]

Doomsday Uprising Part 4: Revenge & Confusion

Previous | Next The wall of fire rose as the battle continued. “Sir, I can’t hold them anymore. We should retreat!” The girl held onto the wall, attempting to keep control of the only thing that kept away the combined Rebels and Trolls force. She had to get her commander’s approval or the other troops would execute her on-site for leaving her battle position. But Galaxy was not there. He already had left to follow Demi to get his revenge. “Sir?” Before she could turn around. She got an arrow in her left eye. The wall of flames had fallen, and she could not focus on keeping the wall up. Before she knew what was going on, a Troll warrior tackled her and she hit the ground. Falling unconscious as blood soaked her long black hair. All she heard was her name being repeated to her.

“Sodan. SODAN!” the veteran woke up and grabbed her eye patch to put it on. She put on a shirt, leather pants, and a cloth jacket. She came out to see the 8-year-old messenger calling her name. “The hell you want, pipsqueak?” Her tone was much harsher than it was then. After she was abandoned by Galaxy almost 8 years ago, she survived civil wars, warfare, and torture. The kind-hearted version of her was as gone as her eye. “Watch your fu-CK-ing mouth!” Sodan rolled her eyes as the pipsqueak’s voice squeaked and cracked. “The emperor has a mission for you. The horse is already there.” She looked to see a horse in the stalls. The kid tapped her, gesturing for a tip. “Fuck off.” She hissed at him before opening the stall and leading the horse out. She slowly pets its lush mane as she gave it a ripe apple. After a while, she mounted the horse and rode it to the emperor’s castle, in the capital of the planet. When she arrived, someone came to collect her horse. She gave it goodbye with another pat and then headed inside. She headed into the castle, where she suddenly bowed her head as her emperor came in. Not out of respect, but out of habit. “Sodan, you do not have to bow. Your honor, here is enough” What a load of bullshit. Emperor Daffy always hated her since she was living proof he was a failure. He was a coward in the wars and murdered the previous well-liked emperor Vite. Sodan was the only one who knew of the assassination. “I have a mission for you, as the child had told you.” “What is it?” She scowled. This meant nothing good for her either way. “To murder him. You know who.” She did, “but if you fail, don’t plan on coming back.” This caused her to stop. It was a suicide mission. He was just trying to get rid of a loose end. With a grin on his face, he knew she figured it out. “You either come back the hero or die the unknown veteran. Understood?” He put his hand on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “Understood, sir!”

“Good. A spaceship with supplies is being prepared. I do believe you have already been planning for this day. Good luck.” She walked off, wishing she could had murdered him right where he had stood.

She sat on the spaceship she was given. The ride to this nuclear wasteland was long and tiresome. However, for a nuked planet, she could barely tell that it at one point was bombed with atomic weapons. She had gotten all the information she needed on Galaxy’s routine. Galaxy came out to hunt the nearby elk population towards the start of sunrise. It gave Sodan enough time to prepare for an ambush. This had been the day she was waiting for, for over 8 years. Today was the day. She had camouflaged her outfit and wore a black cloak with leather armor meant to help fit into the wild. A black fox mask was to hide her identity in case he remembered her, if he did. She headed out of her spaceship early. She had her bow and sword. She did not need arrows, as she could make some appearance with her spells. While being out of combat, she took up on her studies. Her magical abilities had exceeded most, however, her physical ability could have been better. But it was too late now to improve. She spent the next hour building traps and waiting. She had decided to get into a tree to get to higher ground. She climbed to a spot where the sun would directly hit her. It was not long before she dozed off. The veteran did not get any sleep on the long ride to the planet. Accidentally, falling asleep is the best thing to happen to her, as she needed to be well rested for the battle upcoming.

The painful cries of an elk that fell into a trap had awoken Sodan. The trap intended for Galaxy, but an elk and fallen victim to its devices. She looked over and saw the ginger man look confused at why his prey suddenly died before sensing there was something wrong. Before he could arm himself, Sodan had summoned an arrow and put it in her bow. She pulled back the string and aimed to hit his arm. The arrow had made contact, but didn’t seem to pierce skin instead of hitting his chest plate. The chest plate’s metal was made of some black material, it could be obsidian. However, she had no time to think, as the battle was now on. He summoned an axe in his hand. The wood was one that Sodan could not name off her head. It must have been wood native to this planet, and the blade was the same as the chest plate. She had teleported down to behind the man and swung her sword. The two clashed, the sounds of the blades clashing scared off many birds. Sodan didn’t realize that Galaxy was remaining defensive and not attacking that much, only deflecting. After one miscalculation from Sodan, Galaxy had swapped from defensive to offensive, applying pressure and forcing the female warrior into a vulnerable position. Sodan was beginning to run out of options, as Galaxy was much stronger than he was in the past. Her anger was quickly rising as she began frustrated at herself and at the ginger man. She suddenly tackled Galaxy, pouring her anger out at him with every punch. Her anger blinded her to realize that Galaxy was purposely getting hit. She wasn’t focusing on anything but making him suffer. Using some magic, Galaxy had made a tree limb above Sodan begin to fall. The branch had landed on Sodan’s head with a loud crash, and the veteran fell unconscious. Galaxy pushed Sodan off of himself and started to take deep breaths to calm himself down. His nose was bleeding from the beating he took from Sodan. He looked over at the veteran, who was now not getting up. He went over to check her pulse, the impact could have enough to kill her, but it gladly didn’t. The man heard more footsteps to see some hunters coming up the hill to aid him. However, the conflict was over. “Galaxy, are you alright? Do we need to torture the attacker?” One had asked. “Or grab some bandages from the village?” “No, Erbus, I am fine. I will deal with the attacker. There is a herd of boars west of here.” Galaxy informed the hunter. “Make sure everyone is fed and I will take the leftovers.” “On it, Galaxy! Let’s go troops.” The head hunter led his group west. Galaxy picked up the veteran and walked back towards his village.

Sodan had awoken in an unknown place. She was surprised that she was not tied up and not under any known supervision. The assassin had been bandaged and had a serve headache. She attempted to get up up before something pushed her back into the chair, sitting her back down. “Please stay seated. It’s for your health and to make sure you hurt no one else,” Galaxy coldly reminded. He was clearly upset, but Sodan did not give a fuck. He could rot in hell for all she cared. “Like I would want to listen to you” “You’re magically bound to that chair. If you get back up, you will be pushed back into the chair.” He had a point. Who cared? After that, she stopped talking. A couple minutes of silence went by. “Why are you here?” He asked, curious. “To kill you for-“ “For your clan of Firey Rebels. Because it will show Daffy is a success if I die during his reign. I already know.” He paused and talked off to grab a sandwich. “But that’s not the true reason you came. Sure, it’s keeping you alive, but you could have run off to another clan. You decided to come and attack instead of trying to take me out of my sleep. It’s almost as if you have a personal vendetta against me.” Sodan took off her, quickly took off her mask. “That is because you left me on that battlefield to keep that wall of fire up. Which costed me an eye. I should had retreated since death would had been better than the suffer I been through the past 8 fucking years!” She had yelled more. All the years of pent up anger suddenly came out then and she could not recall what had happened during that time. After Galaxy had gone silent. “Look who is quiet now. Do I not matter? Because you made it seem I didn’t when you left my side that day!” “I’m sorry.” “You’r- what?” “I’m sorry. I forgot about the retreating rule and ran after Demi to try to get revenge for someone who didn’t deserve it. The defeat was my fault. I should had stayed with you on the battlefield, but I was lost in anger, like you were a minute ago. My defeat was quick and was exiled here. My hubris got in the way of my leadership and victory, but in the end, it would have led to the loss of more lives.” He truly sounded sorry. His voice had lowered. He walked over and handed her the sandwich he had got. “What revenge did you need to get?” She took the sandwich and took a bite out of it, her tone still aggressive, despite 8 years of rage was now out of her system. She seemed to change to a more relaxed stance. Sodan was still slightly upset, but it seemed to not be at Galaxy. She wasn’t expecting him to be sorry. She was just angry at the universe now, but this anger would bubble down into confusion. “Revenge for my father, Drippy. A villain to tried bring down clans and make it everyone fend for themselves, including me and my other father. I was too dumb to realize it until Demi told me. But over the years, she’s become my family with everyone else here.” There was another brief silence. “So you are aware that Daffy is coming, right?” Sodan paused, taking another bite before responding. “He is?” “Yes. He won’t get close to the village. He should be landing shortly nearby where we fought. We can head there after you finish your sandwich.” Sodan hadn’t noticed that the binding keeping her to the floor was gone. Galaxy had walked off to prepare some armor and to tell his village about the incoming threat as she finished the sandwich.

[totebagchiqbarista]

Heyy can i request a luka x fem!reader fic? Like you know how how luka is always calm and cool? What if he turns into a living mess after he meets reader? Like no stuttering or something but hes ranting about her to juleka all the time and cant concentrate when shes around??

what are you doing to me? // luka x fem!reader

request: anonymous

warnings: fluff, swearing?, Luka being a mess

pairing: Luka Couffaine x Fem!Reader

a/n: I really wanted to write some Luka stuff and this kind of stretched out to a good amount of words so I hope you like it! :)

"Dear God, Luka, stop talking!" Juleka shouted at her brother who entered her room uninvited for the 4th time today. She had understood he didn't have anybody really to talk to, but Lord was he getting annoying at this point.

"But I have to tell you something"

Pushing him out of her cabin one last time, Juleka stood at the door frame and stared at the blue boy. "Go out and find a life!" Of course, she didn't mean it like that, but before she could manage what she is doing, she slammed the door shut in front of him.

Luka was taken aback by the change in Juleka's attitude. He didn't flinch though. He was always that one collected and calm person in every group. Anger never fulfilled him in the ways it sometimes filled his mother, for example.

Anarka had never been the type to prohibit them of their freedom, but she tends to let her emotions take over her. When somebody mentions their dad, she turns red, wrathful at the memories that flow across her head. And it's never long until she completely lets rage form her.

But Luka was different. He was always the serene boy you would find in the back of the class writing songs, practicing riffs. When somebody took it out on him, Luka sucked it in, forgetting about the scene in a few days. He had never lost his temper, beat someone up, melted at someone's touch...

He didn't mind it, after all, there was nothing to whine about. He had all his emotions under control, and even though he would never admit it- it made him feel superior to others.

So Luka decided to go to the park. Whenever he had nothing to do, a simple solution always came to his mind- a warm walk through the park.

"Hi, Nino" he exclaimed seeing the familiar couple by the water fountain. "Hi, Alya."

Alya offered him a soft smile, taking a piece of Andre's ice cream. Nino lent him his famous handshake. "I'm excited for tonight!" said Alya, referring to the private hangout at Couffaine's that was yet to come.

Luka had completely forgotten about it. How could he do such a thing? Still, he kept his cool exterior, nodding his head in agreement. "Me too"

"Oh shoot! I forgot I was supposed to meet Y/n tonight" Alya looked back on her schedule.

"Who's that?" Luka questioned, having never heard of that name before

"An old friend of mine. She just recently moved here"

"She can come, too."

"Really?" Alya's face lit up in joy "You would do that?"

The blue-haired boy laughed "If there's one place in Paris everybody is welcomed, it for sure is the Couffaine's ship!"

"Great, we'll see you there soon!" Alya added before collecting her phone and her boyfriend, running to meet up with her long-term friend.

Luka was left alone by the fountain, staring faintly at the water drops in the pool. Hot summer day took a toll on him and his eyes closed slightly under the pressure of the beaming sunshine.

A wooden bench called out to him and so he sat underneath the cooling shade of the trees. Moments passed and Luka grew to be more impatient. Guests were to come tonight, maybe he should return and help Juleka set up for the evening hang out...

Just on a mark, a girl ran to the park, out of her breath. She seemed worn out as she breathed heavily from the excessive physical activity. She looked at the phone in her hands, it responding with a typical GPS lady voice.

"Shit" she mumbled as she frantically tried to get the directions from the small machine.

"Hey" Luka called out to her from his sitting position in the corner "Are you lost?"

The girl looked around, making sure the blue boy was talking to her. "Yeah, I guess I could say so." Just as she returned him the look, Luka was struck by her beauty. It seemed like such a cliché, really. And Luka hated clichés. Yet, he was mesmerized by the girl who stood before him.

"Right... Where do you need to go?" He asked, collecting himself by her feet.

"Uh," she let out an unknowing hum "Here"

The picture she showed was blurry but Luka figured the place. It was a place he liked to visit sometimes, too. He showed her the directions, making sure she knows all the tracks.

"Thank you so much" The girl beamed with happiness in her eyes "Thank you for helping me"

Luka nodded, and the girl turned around to leave in the direction he just showed her. Luka contemplated for a second before asking a question just as she was about to leave "Can I know your name, at least?"

Hope in his eyes, he stared at her for a full moment until she broke the silence. "We only just met. Besides, where's the fun in that?" Sending him one last wink goodbye, she disappeared into the streets of Paris.

Juleka wasn't a person one could easily talk to. Except for Luka. Luka knew his sister was quite an introvert and a rather shy soul. He respected it and grew to watch over her, protecting her privacy with others. But with him, she was sometimes an extremely cheerful and bubbly person. Hell, there were moments he wished she could stop talking!

So when the two of them collaborated in decorating the harbor for their friends, they finished rather quickly. In under 2 hours, the duo managed to make the best party ship anyone has ever seen.

"Alya is bringing a friend," Luka said as he and Juleka tried to put the last fairy lights around.

"Really? Who?"

"An old friend who just moved here. Y/n as I recall."

Juleka nodded, trying to remember the name "Oh yes, Y/n. Alya told us about her. I'm glad to finally meet her."

Soon enough, the guests started to gather and their home was erupting from chit chats and music. Luka talked to everybody, getting lost in the crowd. His mind always found its way back to the silhouette of the lost girl from the park. There was something he couldn't get enough of in her...

"Luka, could you play us something?" asked Marinette to what Luka only nodded, heading to his room for the guitar.

"Alya is here!" Rose exclaimed when she noticed her friend at the entrance. Next to her stood a girl, a girl Alya has told them almost everything about.

"Hi, guys! This is Y/n" everybody welcomed them, all eyes prying on the newbie.

Marinette came closer and hugged her "I'm Marinette" she addressed as she offered her a soft smile "I've heard so much about you!"

"I could say the same" Y/n returned the sweet gesture.

"What took you so long?" Nino asked looking at his watch and then back at them.

"My bad. I got kind of lost."

The moment Luka stepped on the ship, the last thing he expects to see was the girl he couldn't stop thinking about. The girl that has been playing in his head all day, since the moment they met. Well, not exactly met.

"You" he blurted without thinking as he set his guitar down.

The pair of orbs he remembered from this morning, looked up at him, as surprised as him. "You" she joked back, not breaking the eye contact.

"You two know each other?" Marinette asked looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Not really. He helped me find the way this morning" Y/n explained

"And she didn't even tell me her name"

"It's more fun this way, don't you think?"

Luka chuckled offering her a handshake. "I'm Luka"

"Y/n"

The night moved slowly and Luka found himself growing more and more nervous whenever Y/n was around. This can't be! He's always the calm one, the collected one, the untouchable one. No, no. It's just a mire admiration. Nothing much, really. He's as steady as ever...

"Spin the bottle!" Alya shouted out of nowhere

Numbers of confused faces turned to her in a moment. She proceeded, explaining her outburst. "Let's play spin the bottle"

The teens looked around, meeting with other's sights, nodding in agreement. Soon enough, the group was sat on the floor. Upon choosing a seat, Luka looked around. There were 2 left: beside Y/n and opposite of her. He wanted to sit beside her, really. Oh, just how he wanted to sit beside her, their knees touching... But he was so nervous. His palms sweat just for the thought and his heart raced with a speed unknown to man.

So he sat opposite of her.

"Right, so, we are playing spin the bottle combined with truth and dare. A person spins the bottle and they ask "truth or dare?" the one who the bottle has sat on." Alya explained.

Marinette went first, the bottle landing on Y/n. The bluenette smiled softly and asking the question. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth"

"Are you happy to be in Paris?"

"Very!" The two exchanged graceful smiles earning a groan from Nino.

"Where are the fun questions! C'mon dudettes!" he cried obviously disappointed in his friends.

Marinette looked at him in confusion "What do you want me to ask?"

"I don' know, something interesting. Like, describe your perfect type, or something"

Y/n laughed for a second. "Well I don't really have a type but guitarists hold a special place in my heart"

Luka looked at her in surprise but wasn't met with her gaze. That was it. He'll lose his mind because of this girl and there's no turning back. He'll be defeated, if only he wasn't already.

Y/n grew to be a great addition to the class and the friend group. And she grew closer to Luka's heart, more close than he liked to admit. When she was around, his mind was rollercoasters, when she was away her melody played in the back of his head. It was exhausting, really. Luka had never acted this way, especially not for a girl. It was all new to him.

It had been almost two months since Y/n's first day in the city of love. Never had she imagined that she would fall so in love with the people, the culture, the capital of France in general. She was standing on her balcony, looking at the most beautiful sightseeing- the Eiffel tower.

"Mom, Dad, I'm leaving, see you later!" she shouted as she closed the front door behind her. Juelka had invited her to help her out with band stuff. She was a bit surprised to say at least for Y/n wasn't much of an intellectual in that field.

The traffic was light and soon enough she stepped foot on the magnificent ship. The boy she already knew very well was strumming his guitar in the corner.

"Nice tune" she whispered, coming behind him

Luka jumped a little, taken aback by her unexpected figure. "Y/n? Why-"

"I invited her, I need some help," said Juleka from the door. "I'll be back in a second" and with that, she disappeared.

Y/n sat on a chair beside him, feeling the tension rise. Luka's melody became more insecure, more unsteady. It felt as if he was trying too hard.

"What happened?"

"I don't know" Luka answered, regretting holding the guitar now. It was true, when she was around, it was not much he could do. His mind always wandered elsewhere.

An uncomfortable silence took over them. Juleka was nowhere in sight. After some minutes of complete dull, Y/n stood up eager to leave. "Tell Juleka I'm sorry, but I just remembered I have to go."

Luka wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He was afraid of blurting out something way more stupid. So he nodded, regretting his decisions. What has she done to him? He can't even think straight, what to do, what not to do. He's a mess and it's all because of her.

"What are you doing you, idiot, go after her!" Juleka stormed out of the ship, scolding her older brother.

"What?"

"Go after her! Tell her how you feel! God!"

"What are you talking about?" Luka played it off dumb

Juleka's anger only grew "Oh please, mister untouchable, you're not so secretive about it. You can never concentrate when she's around, when I mention her, you grow all impatient. You talk about her ALL THE DAMN TIME. I can't listen to you anymore!"

Luka shifted in his spot "I don't talk about her that much"

"You literally stormed in my room last night talking about her humor and how cool she is. Go tell her how you feel, Luka"

He contemplated for a minute making Juleka impatient "Now! Go!"

The blue boy nodded, setting his guitar aside, and running as fast as he could. He ran the way he remembered Y/n to go. His legs could sprint only so fast but somehow he managed to run it all the way through.

Just by the bridge, she saw her walk by herself. It was already getting late, the sun was just around the corner, held by its fingertips to not yet say goodbye. She was looking to the river, calm and alone. "Y/n!" he shouted, putting all the energy he had to pull it through.

"Y/n!" he screamed once more to what the girl turned around. Just as she was about to ask what was happening, Luka panted taking her hand in his the moment he got the chance.

"No, no, I talk." He said taking a deep breath and looking right into her eyes. "Y/n from the moment we met in the park, I couldn't stop thinking about you. You took a tool on me, god, I'm wrapped around your finger! I can't focus when I see you, I lose all my senses when you smile"

Y/n smiled at the ongoing love declaration. "And no matter how hard I tried to cover up my feelings, to forget you, there just is no escape. I am lost, I'm losing my mind. God, what are you doing to me? I rant about you to Juleka, dear Lord. You made a mess out of me, Y/n, and I love, I love, I love you."

And before thinking, Y/n pressed her lips against his. She kissed him long and lovingly, making him melt under her touch.

"That makes the two of us"

[system-of-a-feather]

Good fucking god man. I was just trying to talk to my fiance about how a song was really fucking good and was saying "the vocals aren't the best, they're pretty average at best and its no Bury the Light by any means, but the guitar..."

And he was like "SAY THE LINE BART" which had me just going "??? what???" and he just told me to finish my sentence

Which then I thought to myself "the guitar is where it's at. It has the energy, the soul, and aggression, the beauty."

And rapidly realized what he meant. Cause literally back when I had first popped my head up as XIV 1.0 and was causing issues, I was talking about the guitar and specifically ambient guitar and how the neat thing about it as an instrument is that it doesn't necessarily need you to be "good" to be good cause it's about the expression, the emotion, the feeling and soul put into it that is only made accessible by it being a relatively "easy" instrument

And that was the first time he looked at us and said "holy shit you really are Johnny Silverhand" and showed us this clip and set forward the next TWO YEARS of him bugging us over how I "am literally just Johnny Silverhand"

And he literally is still fucking right. I'm not an introject of him, but arguably would agree that he is "just me" more than any of the five sources that have since fused to be me.

Like originally it started as a joke cause we are currently like, "integrating" me into some of Riku's personal long term friends that I've been ignoring / avoiding since I didn't want to bother with their personal life and the two of us kinda live an intertwined double life - but like since that friend is probably and hopefully going to become an irl long term friend in our future goals, its not right or practical to keep them in just one half of our lives

And that friend knows Cyberpunk and at first to make it easier Riku's been talking about me as "their personal Johnny" and our fiance's been jokingly calling me Johnny anytime I radiate massive Johnny vibes

And at this point I literally do accept Johnny as one of the 5 alternative names I go by. Arguably it is like my second or third preferred name. XIV is the name I go by to almost everyone. "Gum Boy" is what I tell people we are somewhat interested / family that I don't trust nor respect enough to let them know my other names and/or if I find them more of a variable I have to deal with than a person. I have my "true" name which is a name people are allowed to know if I like and want them to know me genuinely, but few use it - though its a gesture of respect to share it. And then Johnny as a nickname sticks around the same acceptability as XIV.

I also technically go by the name "two" and "fourteen" but those are mostly like... not deadnames in the sense of like trans but their names I don't really go by anymore. They're old names.

But yeah: XIV, Gum Boy, [redacted], and Johnny are all 100% valid names to call me by.

I guess as a part who has a 'true' name that I consider to be a privileged to know, it makes it so I really do collect nicknames that are representative enough. Cause XIV is by no means my true name as a part, its just the name people use. My 'true' name is solely for real talk which I don't really do often.

Anyways, I can't escape being assigned Silverhand kin by our fiance and having that been done with chilling accuracy. Because I can't escape my true self, I am growing a beard and embracing the true Johnny-ness of my existence.

-XIV

[relaxxattack]

okay this is prob au/ooc bc it’s banking on jackie knowing ran wants to kill him and thinking it’s funny when he fails but here u go (if I cuts off i’ll send the rest of it. also I’m on my phone and not checking for typos sorry)

Jackie jumps up to sit on the bench, leaving Ran to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. The general is talking about something. And Ran should really be listening, but all he can think about is how much this one person is ruining his life. If he goes back to Terminus a failure what then? The delays are already had enough.

He snaps out of it when he hears his name being called. And Jackie is gesturing for him to come closer so he does. He tries to leave a respectable gap between them - most people don’t like having their personal space crowded (Ran included). But Jackie frowns, drags him closer, and then frowns again.

“What the hell! You’re still so much taller than me.”

“Maybe you should try standing up.” Ran suggests, painfully aware of the fact Jackie’s hand hasn’t left his wrist. “Although I don’t see how it’ll help your ego if you need to stand on a bench to be taller than me.”

Jackie laughs, and finally lets go of Ran’s wrist. Only to loop his arms loosely around Ran’s neck. What. “You’re lucky you’re so cute because that was really rude.”

And he doesn’t have anything to say to that so he doesn’t respond. He’s sure that at any moment, Jackie will release him and go back to talking about whatever. But Jackie seems content. And Ran is quickly growing uncomfortable by how much he feels the same.

This is an opportunity, he reminds himself suddenly. He’s close enough to his target to reach his back. And the knife hidden up his sleeve means he won’t draw suspicion when getting it into his hand. All he needs to do is lean forward slightly to rest his hands on the bench behind Jackie.

So he does. He hoped to make it a casual shifting of pose. But he’s close enough to hear Jackie’s sharp intake of breath so he pulls back. Surely Jackie suspects him. There’s no other explanation for it. He didn’t think the general would be smart enough to interpret such a subtle movement as a threat. But he supposes Jackie was an assassin as well.

But when Jackie unloops his arms from around Ran’s neck, he doesn’t shove him away. He slides on hand down to hold his shoulder, and the other up to cup his cheek.

Oh.

Slowly, giving Ran more than enough time to move away, Jackie drags him down so their faces are almost level. (It forces him to put his hands behind Jackie on the bench, but that barely registers in his mind.) Jackie stops just before their lips touch.

And Ran will never admit this to anyone - not even himself - but he’s the one that closes the distance. It’s a short kiss. That’s the excuse his jumbled mind provides him for not taking advantage of his potion and Jackie’s distraction to complete his mission. It’s a short kiss, but they only barely pull away from each other. Jackie’s eyes are still closed and there’s a soft smile on his face.

Ran desperately tries to collect his thoughts. He has never wanted to complete a mission less. Because Jackie’s touch burns in the best way possible and he doesn’t want to ever move. And that scares him more than anything.

He could go in for another kiss. Now that he knows what’s happening. He can approach it calm and collected, and he won’t be too distracted by the shock of it to complete his job. He can finally be rid of the whirlwind force that is General Jackie, who spins around him and leaves him disorientated at every moment.

He leans in again, and forces himself to focus on the cool metal of his knife in his hand. It’s an easy angle straight to his heart. If Ran was perhaps less focused on not being distracted by the kiss, he’d be able to note how poetic it is.

He kisses Jackie, and feels his knife skate off Jackie’s armour. The armour that Ran didn’t realise he was wearing due to his layers of clothing effectively concealing it. Jackie laughs a little into the kiss when it happens. And there’s no way he hasn’t been found out now. The hand on his cheek disappears, only to reappear around his wrist. Where Jackie must press some nerve or something because Ran’s hand spasms and the knife clatters to the bench.

The smile on Jackie’s face would almost be cruel if Ran thought the general was capable of such a thing. But surely smiling in the face of his failure is cruel no matter how soft it looks.

“You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that.” Jackie murmurs. And they’re still so close that Ran can practically feel the words against his lips.

He’s so sure that this is the end. That Jackie will shove him away and call for the guards so he can be jailed and executed. Or pick up the knife and kill Ran himself. And he should be running. He should be trying to make a hasty escape. Which is something he wasn’t even considering in his desperation to finally be done with this.

He hadn’t checked to see if Jackie was unarmoured and unarmed. He hadn’t planned his escape route. Jackie has disorientated him so thoroughly that he may as well be a novice at this.

If he runs now, he’ll go back to Terminus a failure. But at least he’ll be alive. And he can pass off whatever knowledge he’s gathered in his stay here to the council so they can finally finish the job.

But he’s frozen in place.

Jackie pushes him back enough to so that he can jump off the bench. Ran feels inexplicably cold now that Jackie’s no longer touching him.

“You’re lucky you’re handsome.” Jackie is grinning, as though he didn’t just thwart an assassination attempt from someone he was kissing. “Let’s go get dinner tomorrow night, yeah?”

Ran takes a step back and forces his brain to start back up again. He’s half convinced that he made the whole thing up due to Jackie’s strange reaction. But the knife is still sitting on the bench.

“Okay.” He says. Because he’s simply not sure what else to say.

“Um, I don’t really have a time preference. 6pm sound good to you?”

“Sure.”

“Or, if we hang out during the day doing investigation work or whatever else then we can just go whenever we’re hungry.” Jackie shrugs. “Doesn’t need to be a fancy event.”

“If you say so.”

“Great!” Jackie grins and makes an excited motion with his hands. “It’s a date! See you tomorrow!”

The general gives him a lazy salute, and then practically skips out of the room. Leaving Ran to stand there and try to process what just happened.

He’ll have to go back to his room and figure out what to do now that Jackie knows for sure he’s trying to kill him. He’ll have to figure out if dinner is some obscure play to trap him, or whether Jackie is really just stupid enough to let this slide.

(The best and safest solution, is for Ran to just leave. But for reasons he can’t and won’t explain, he pushes that thought away.)

THIS IS SO GOOD HELLO. ITS LIKE. FUCKED UP AND I AM SO INTERESTED. JACKIE IS DEFINITELY FUCKED UP LIKE THAT LIKE I THINK LIKE THIS SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING HED DO.

[dragon-of-dreams]

Puzzling

My Masterlist

Part 5 to Cracking a Code

1;  2;  3;  4

Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader (fem)

Warnings: Swearing, gaslighting, stalking, aftermath of noncon, noncon touching, caregiving, but like by Steve, so not really, self-harm references (previous chapter, not premeditated), discussion of eating

Summary: Steve takes you home to “take care” of you.

A/n: I’m not super happy with this chapter… and maybe I’ll redo it sometime in the future, but I just wanted to give you an update. Sorry, that everything takes so long!

Word count: 2,300

The rest of the drive passed in a blur. Steve’s hand hardly left your thigh and you let him. You were so exhausted, you didn’t have the energy to fight him off anymore. You felt yourself retreating into your body, away from the reality of being groped in the fancy sports car of America’s bravest hero.

Steve helped you up the steps to your apartment. You’re entire body was shaking, leaving you on unsteady feet. If you didn’t know better you’d say you were coming down with a fever. But the reason for the shivers coursing through you was so much larger. Not something a few pills could fix. Steve gently led you into your home, almost as if he owned the place, deposited you on the couch, and covered you in a blanket. As he tucked you in, his hands respectful and his touch kind you surfaced for a brief second out of the hole of despair his comment in the car had put you in.

“There you are, angel.” Steve smiled as he noticed how your eyes started to focus a bit. “I’ll make you something to eat. I’ll be right back.” With that, he leaned in and placed the gentlest kiss on your forehead, before retreating to your kitchen. You watched him rummage around in the tiny space adjoining your living room. He looked at ease, at home, and oh so loving. Did yesterday really happen? you wondered. There they were again. Those thoughts you had to brandish all day yesterday as well. You started to stare off into the middle distance; once more slipping away from reality and the physical pain left in your body. You heard Steve tut slightly, the fridge door opening and closing, then the same sound from a bunch of your cabinet doors. Just as you wanted to call out to him, to ask if he needed help, a robotic response drilled into you by your mother, Steve appeared before you almost as if out of thin air. His gait as silent as any other predator’s.

“Darling,” he sounded concerned, “did you eat yet?”

You looked up at him, doe-eyed. “I.. uh… I must have. I have some overnight oats in the fridge, so if there are only three glasses in there, then yeah.” To be honest you couldn’t remember, nothing made sense.

“There’s four, darling… You really gotta eat breakfast! It’s important to keep your strength up, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah… I usually do. I promise” Why do I not wanna make him sad? Why do I want him to be proud of me? You thought bewildered, as you looked into Steve’s worried eyes before all semblance of structured thought left you again to the tide of confusion washing over you and pulling you under.

“Ok, babe, I trust you. I’ll make some now, okay? You just sit tight.” All you could do was nod. It was like it was all happening to someone else. You weren’t really here. You were so far away and so present at the same time that it hurt.

As Steve left you your mind went to war with itself.

Steve wasn’t a good guy. He wasn’t the hero on those posters, was he? But he was making you breakfast, he tucked you in. He sent Bucky to check on you. No… No, he sent Bucky to make sure you didn’t go to the police. Right? Right.

You could feel your mind shut off, drawing you down with it. All that happened, Steve’s non-linear behavior pushing you over the edge. Nothing made sense.

You barely noticed as Steve fed you breakfast, bite by bite, all that registered somewhere deep within you was his calm, deep guiding voice: “One more bite, there you go, good girl” all his encouragement mushing together in your brain, a soothing sensation flowing through your pain-addled brain.

After breakfast, you could feel Steve manipulate your body, as he wrapped himself around you and put on your favorite movie. As you lay there engulfed in the arms of this giant man, accompanied by the sounds of the movie you had watched a million times, you slowly started to become aware of yourself again. The body heat was so soothing and Steve’s deep humming voice pushed the fear that had kept you paralyzed further and further away. Making way for a seething rage, fickle but growing. As you tensed and readjusted your limbs Steve leaned forwards and kissed your temple. “I knew you were still in there, angel. I made some tea. It should still be hot. I put it in a thermos. Let’s talk okay?” Steve carefully helped you sit, every touch his, stoking the anger burning through you. Then, oblivious to the shift in your mood, he got up to grab the tea and cups as you looked around as if you were seeing your place for the first time. It no longer held the feeling of safety that comes with any good home. All you could see was Steve controlling you, in the TV that was slightly turned, the smell of his cologne on your couch, the dirty pans in the sink.

When Steve came back, your head was much clearer and you carefully reached for your cup and made sure to keep your distance from Steve as subtly as you could. Whatever was to come, was going to be important.

“You know darling, you will have to be nicer to Bucky. He’s only trying to help when I can’t be there. New York is dangerous, always has been. No one knows that better than me and Buck. He texted me, saying you were really rude on the train this morning, and quite frankly, darling, I’m disappointed that I even have to say this, but you have to appreciate what we do for you, okay?” Steve’s voice is calm, collected, and rational. There is nothing but honest concern in it for a moment it disrupts the anger building within you. “It’s time to play nice with Bucky now, okay? Be nice to him, maybe even as nice as you have been for me, understand?”

It’s the last sentence that sets you off, Steve’s expectant gaze, belittling you, that makes you blow your lid.

“What? What are you talking about? Play nice? I wasn’t being nice to you! I don’t want your protection or your attention, or Bucky’s for that matter!” Your voice is rising, as you grip your cup of tea so tight its heat sears your palms. “Get out of my life!” you yell. Then like a bucket of cold water realization sets in. Every muscle in Steve’s body tightens, you see his body expand with the change, looming over you, blacking out the window. You expect Steve to yell, beat you up, but when you dare to look up at his face, it is almost passive, but there is danger burning beneath his façade.

“I understand this is difficult for you.” Steve’s voice turns harder with every word. You notice the missing pet name like a slap to your face. “But I am getting pretty tired of this conversation. You need to rain in that attitude of yours, okay? Because I won’t tolerate you being a spoiled brat who doesn’t see what’s best for them. I’m looking out for you here, taking care of you, something you apparently struggle with,” with that Steve gestures at the remnants of your breakfast, the one he had to make for you, “and all I expect in return is some gratitude, towards me and towards Bucky. This is not up for discussion. And if you can’t behave, you’ll have to deal with the consequences, young lady. Is that understood?” By the end of his speech, Steve has risen to his feet, towering over you, his voice booming to fill your apartment, while you cower into the sofa. Your breathing is shallow and you are petrified. It feels too much like last night. When you didn’t have a choice either. And everything he was saying was making sense. New York was dangerous. And you really were terrible at feeding yourself correctly… Those oat thingies were just the newest thing you were trying in your never-ending quest to live more healthily… Usually, your job took preference over clean living. And Bucky hadn’t done anything to you either. He’d just been there to watch out for you… Steve, well… Steve really had done that, but he also held you today, when your brain shut down and made you food. He could have just left you at work, where you surely would’ve gotten nothing done or even caused trouble if you fucked up your work…

Shakily you nod and watch some of the tension leave Steve’s body and he crouches down in front of you. “Good, I knew you were smart like that. Now we can either go have a bath and soothe your body or you can freak out again and then I swear I’ll make you bear the consequences of your behavior for real this time. So what’s it gonna be, princess?”

You stare at him for a second. How is he so rational? Why does this all make sense? Authority has always been your weakness, and so you just nod because what the Captain says goes, and you learned that the hard way, and let Steve lead you to the bathroom. Maybe you will get to lay in his arms again and hear him praise you. It felt so good when he held you on the couch. You were safe in his arms. All you want is to be back in his embrace. Where the harsh reality can’t hurt you. So you allow Steve to strip you down, as hot water pours into your tub.

Suddenly Steve’s grip on your hip tightens painfully, as yanks your jeans off of you. You look down, scared, and find him staring at the bruises you must have caused yourself in the shower this morning when you were trying to wash the night away. “What is this? Explain, now!” he seethes and turns his scorching gaze towards you.

“I, when I showered, I, I just wanted to get clean…” you stammer.

“Clean? Clean! You hurt yourself! Jeez! How dare you do something like that to yourself? I really can’t let you out of my sight for one second, can I? Gotta watch you like a little kid!”

You feel a pang in your heart. You weren’t trying to be bad! You want to tell Steve, but he just turns off the water, grabs your upper arm, and drags you from the bathroom into your bedroom. As you stumble after him, you try to figure out what is happening.

“Steve?” you plead as he sits down on the bed and puts you over his lap.

“No, darling, not anymore. I have been way too kind to you so far, but apparently, the nice approach doesn’t work with you. So discipline is what you get.” He thunders, and then his hand is hitting your bum with enough force to make you scream. It happened so fast that your head is spinning.

As you lie across his lap everything felt like it’s wrapped in cotton. So much skin-to-skin contact fries your over-worked and touch-starved brain into submission as Steve’s hand is raining down on your ass, painting it crimson. You burst into tears without any control over yourself. “Steve,” you sob, “Steve please, I didn’t mean to, I swear, Steve!” and just as those words leave your mouth, he stops, picks you up, and hugs you close. Your nerve endings sing at the close contact and you sag into him, all tension leaving your body. His hands draw soothing circles on your back as he holds you tight.

“I got you baby.” Steve whispers as he settles you on the bed, “I know that hurt, but I needed you to see, you know?”

You cry and nod, burrowing into his hulking form hovering over you.

“I’ll make it better baby, I’ll make it all good, now,” Steve murmurs, as he leans in to kiss your forehead, while his right hand comes down and starts to play with your clit. “Oh darling, look at you! You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Only then do you register the slick coating your thighs, embarrassed you want to turn from him, but Steve cages you in. “It’s okay babe, no reason to be shy about it. There is nothing wrong with wanting your man. Really, it just shows that you understand my discipline with you. I’m real proud of you, angel, real proud.” He mutters as he spreads your lips and slips two fingers in. You can’t help but moan and arch into him.

Steve is nothing but kind and soft with you as he readjusts both of your bodies until he sinks into your heat, and you both moan in unison. “There we go, darling. See how good I can be for you? There we go.” As he starts moving, slow and deep within you peace settles over you. “I’ll make you forget all that pain, babe, it’ll all be gone in just a minute now.” His fingers are rubbing circles around your clit while he keeps murmuring sweet encouragements into your ears as you climb and climb towards an orgasm that is so deep that it leaves you boneless in Steve’s arms until he finishes with a broken grunt deep inside of you. As Steve settles you in his arms after you can’t remember the last time you felt this sated, as you drift into a deep sleep with Steve’s spend slowly trickling out of you. For a split second, before you fall asleep the horror of what is happening to you is clear in your mind, but then, thankfully, once more your exhaustion pulls you under.

[angrylizardjacket]

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡 

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over. 

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen. 

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really? 

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown. 

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties. 

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending. 

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation. 

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public. 

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album. 

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was. 

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone. 

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong. 

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired. 

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room. 

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness. 

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back. 

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss. 

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it. 

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time. 

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter. 

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop. 

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head. 

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed. 

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him. 

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you’re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too. 

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.

[yandere-sins]

Hmm, 1 from the supernatural prompts for yandere leviathan, Satan, and Belphie? (Obey me)

Thank you for requesting!

“You can run, but you can’t hide.”

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««   

“Ah, [Name].”

Belphegor crossed your path suddenly as you turned the corner, not expecting to run into him or anyone considering the house was very quiet. “Belphie!” you called out, lowering your voice in your panic. “You got to help me!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, raising a brow as he noticed your unsteady breaths and panicked looks over your shoulders. “I was playing games with Levi when he just... I... I’m not even sure what it was, but I left and he followed and he wouldn’t stop! Please!”

Belphie gave a short snort, shaking his head. “Beat him at his own game again? You should have known better--”

“Please!”

From the urgency in your voice, he finally understood the seriousness of the situation, giving a quick look left and right. “Attic,” he directed, taking your hand in his as he led you down the hallway and towards the staircase to the upper floor. Your thankfulness had no bounds as you made sure to tell him how much you appreciated his help, letting yourself be hurried into the attic room, Belphie giving another glance over his shoulder before closing the door behind you two.

“It should be safe here,” he announced and you let out a deep sigh. “Thank you, you really saved me!”

You followed him as you saw him approach the bed, flopping down as the tension washed out of you two. It wasn’t unusual for you to hang out with Belphie, so you had no hesitations to join him on the mattress when he opened up some space for you. A nap was exactly what you needed after that. “Levi just...” you started, closing your eyes as your head sunk into the pillow beneath it.

“It’s hard to say... he got all touchy in the middle of watching me play. And when I told him I didn’t like it, he just gripped my wrist real hard and yanked me towards him, and I just... I bolted... Sorry for dragging you into this.”

“No problem~” Belphie yawned. “Demons don’t go well with rejection. We are dangerous creatures after all.” He chuckled, and you joined him with a brief huff and a smile on your lips. Turning your head to the side, you looked at him, one of his eyes opening to face you while he was already in nap-mode too. “You wouldn’t, right?”

“I only want the best for you,” Belphie was quick to answer and you nodded, relieved. Even with a past like the one you two had, you trusted him more and more every day, always having your back no matter what was going on around you. After that exhaustion, you had no problems drifting off into a nap next to him, happy just to spend some hours in peace before you had to face reality again.

A knock tore you out of your sound sleep. You must have really been exhausted, instantly drifting off, coddled, and comfortable in Belphie’s refuge. “I’ll get it,” Belphie mumbled, not sounding sleepy at all which was unusual. But maybe he felt the same panic that rushed through you at that moment. What if you two had been found out? “Okay,” you whispered, using one hand to tug yourself a little deeper under the sheets and hide away from sight.

Belphegor was careful as he approached the door, even more so as he opened it a gap. “Leave,” he instructed and you feared the worst when you heard a click of a tongue and a door getting stuck on a foot in its frame. “Don’t be like that, Belphie,” Satan’s voice rang out, and you sat up, surprised to see the blonde squeeze through the door.

Belphie had a grim expression on his face as he closed the door again and followed Satan who approached you chipperly. “[Name]! I’ve been searching for you!” he revealed and you almost felt bad that you had been hiding from everyone until now. “I was supposed to show you the book, I am currently reading, today, right? We talked about it at school.”

“Oh,” you remembered, scratching your cheek. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“No problem, that’s why I am here. What are you two doing up here anyway?”

“None of your business--” “We were hiding from Levi--”

Your and Belphie’s words overlapped, as Satan gave a knowing smirk. “Did you beat him at his games again? Told you to be more careful, [Name].”

“Y-Yeah... something like this...” You weren’t actually in the mood to explain the situation again, awkward as it was already. “And then you two hid here, how curious,” Satan chuckled taking a seat at the end of the bed. “So this book-” he started and you sat up properly, wanting to scoot closer when you felt a rattling tug at your wrist. Confused, you looked at it, everybody else in the room noticing it too now.

“Oh, Belphie,” Satan sighed, while his brother’s expression only turned grimmer. “What--” you asked, tugging at the handcuff which you followed with your eyes, seeing it was attached to the bed frame below the mattress, hiding it from sight. “What are you doing?” Satan asked, and Belphegor gave him a huff. “Protecting [Name].”

“From what? A good night’s sleep without restriction?”

“From Levi. And obviously, also you.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Reaching over towards the cuff around your wrist, it must have shown how confused and weirded out by the situation you were as Satan calmed you quietly, the cuff opening as he brushed over it with magic sparking from his hand. “Belphie, why?” you asked him, mustering the biggest doe eyes you could.

“You’re safe here.” He was by your side in the matter of second, no resentment in his gaze whatsoever. You could do no wrong in his eyes, but there was a gleam behind them that you never had noticed before. “That’s not how you can keep her,” Satan noted from the side, instantly receiving a death stare.

“I’m just saying. Cages are better.”

“You- What?!” you squealed appalled by such a suggestion. But Belphie on the other hand, grew quiet, giving his brother a short look over. “Just imagine,” Satan suggested, gesturing to the room around the three of you. “Magic cages. No one will be able to see the cage, and only we will know where [Name] is.”

“We?”

“Well, if you’re going to do it, I want to be on-board.”

“Still better than Levi...” Belphie eventually agreed, thinking it over for a second before the tension left his body in favor of a smile. “Okay it’s a deal--”

“EXCUSE ME?!” you suddenly made yourself known, loudly. “What do you even think you are talking about?!”

“We’re just trying to keep you safe, [Name],” Belphie explained.

“No one will be able to bother you, and I will lend you books to read for the lonely hours when we are not here. Wouldn’t that be great?” Satan added, all smiles as the plan humored him.

“No, it would not--!”

The sudden bang on the door as it flew wide open interrupted you, Levi’s angered face appearing in the doorframe. Though the moment he saw you, he smiled, overjoyed by your appearance. The happiness was gone just as fast as he saw his two brothers hanging around you, quite literally hanging on to you. “How unfair!” he grunted. “I was searching everywhere for [Name] and you two just kept them hidden here? How utterly unfair!”

“Ah, Levi,” was Satan’s calm, unfazed greeting, and he quickly exchanged a glance with Belphie who nodded in response.

“We decided [Name] is currently not available, go back to your games.”

“No no no, I was having them for today. They are supposed to be hanging out with me.”

“Plans change,” Belphie mumbled, both of them standing up to shield you behind them.

“[Name]’s mine today!” Leviathan complained as if you were another game in his collection, lend out to his brothers.

“Yeah, no longer.”

The three fell into a heated argument over whether you belonged to Levi, or Belphie, or Satan, or Belphie and Satan respectively. For a minute you could only watch them, shocked about what was playing out in front of you, before you decided this was too crazy for you to deal with. Neither did you understand what they were even arguing about, nor did you want to stay behind and find out or acknowledge the solution they would find.

So in a moment of unwatched, you made a run for it, slipping out the room and bolting down the staircase in an attempt to flee the madness in the attic. Your heart rate was up instantly again, as you thought about a way to escape those three, your last resort being to approach Lucifer who surely would put them in place in your stead. It was then that you heard Levi scream after you, footsteps following rapidly.

“You can run, but you can’t hide!”  

Lucifer, you thought, deciding on your last resort rather than trying out other ways to keep them at bay. Definitely Lucifer.

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««  

Feel free to request from the Supernatural Prompts too!

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

 Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

 "What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

 The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

 If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

 "Of August?" she asks.

 "Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

 "Duh."

 Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

 "Good, because we have plans."

 She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

 "No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

 Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

 "Our Smarter House thing won an award."

 "No shit?"

 "Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

 She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

 Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

 "Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

 "No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

 "Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

 Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

 Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

 Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

 She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

 "I thought I had until two."

 "That was before I had the best idea."

 The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

 "First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

 Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

 Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

 Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

 Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

 "Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

 She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

 When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

 Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

 "The guy you've been seeing."

 How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

 She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

 Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

 "How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

 "Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

 Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

 "That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

 "So, for a few hours?"

 She shrugs. "More or less."

 "I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

 "Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

 Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

 "Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

 "Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

 "Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

 Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

 "Another business bro, I assume?"

 "He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

 She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

 "Ballet."

 Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

 “I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

 “Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

 “I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

 “The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

 Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

 “Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

 Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Congrats.”

 “Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

 Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

 “Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

 “You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

 She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

 Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

 “Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

 “2019 fall/winter?”

 Annabeth nods.

 “Styling?”

 “Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

 Throwing her head back, she groans.

 “What? What’s wrong?”

 “You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

 “Well… yeah, I was.”

 “Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

 Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

 “That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

 Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

 “Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

 Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

 “I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

 “Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

 Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

 “I don’t know…”

 “You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

 “What did you have in mind?”

 Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

 Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

 “They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

 Well. They are pretty cool.

 “It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

 Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

 “I haven’t even done anything.”

 “I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

 ***

 “Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

 “Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

 “Oh.”

 “Why?”

 “Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

 She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

 The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

 “Annabeth Chase.”

 She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

 Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

 Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

 “And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

 “You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

 “Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

 She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

 Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

 She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

 “Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

 “Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

 He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

 “I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

 This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

 “I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

 He frowns. “You sure?”

 Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

 “You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

 There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

 Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

 “It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

 From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

 She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

 “As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

 She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

 “But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

 Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

 Hey, it’s her night, too.

 After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

 Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

 Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

 “...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

 “I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

 “You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

 “Rehab? Really?”

 “What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

 Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

 But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

 Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

 The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

 Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

 Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

 Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

 The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

 She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

 That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

 Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

 She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

 She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

 It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

 She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

 Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

 It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you  

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Alan’s comfort

This was something I wanted to write about TOS Alan (and maybe continue on with this series of mini-fics... I don’t know lol)

But I like to thank @myladykayo, @katblu42 (and Red, I forgot your tumblr name, sorry *sweatdrop*)

(Also tagging: @mothmandalore, @dreamycloud, @jacksonstarkiller, @uniwolfcorn. You are very welcome ;)

-0-0-0-

Alan shut the door behind him and stomped across his bedroom to crash into his bed headfirst. He felt tired. Physically… and emotionally.

The arguments with his dad were getting the tole on him. He felt he was getting nowhere, despite his greatest efforts. Why was he getting nowhere? He doesn’t fucking know! (If Scott would’ve heard his thoughts, he would’ve called him out to watch his profanity.)

He flipped to his back and looked up at the ceiling. He let out a long sigh, letting out the bottled-up frustration he had with his life. He felt that anything he tried wasn’t enough. Another sigh. Followed by a tiny whine.

 Being the youngest one was hard.

 Alan listened to the clock on his nightstand ticking away. Time passed slowly for the young blond. His breathe felt he had been chocking on the air of the island. It wasn’t just the heat. His family was suffocating him.

 He needed fresh air. So, Alan got up and kneeled to reach something under his bed. It was a box. A big box. He opened it, revealing stacks of some magazines. A collection that he had since he was fourteen. He took them out and opened to a certain page, one by one. He felt a sense of calm when he looked at them and its not from nostalgia. He laid them on the floor and sat on the rim of the bed to looked over to the open magazines.

 Alan let himself lost on the contents of the pages, relieving his frustration, but his anger was still fresh. He didn’t notice his door opened; a shadow slipped in holding a glimmering silver tray. He didn’t notice the figure laying down the tray on the nightstand before looming next to him. It wasn’t until he felt a warm wrinkled hand placed on his shoulder.

 “Have some tea, Mr. Alan,” said the figure, “it should help you ease your temper.”

 At first, the young blonde didn’t bother to look up at the guest. But then he did, his dim ocean blue eyes met with reassuring old eyes of peridot.

 “Oh… Hi Kyrano,” he greeted lamely.

 The father of Tin-Tin gently rubbed his shoulder before reaching out for the cup of tea and handed to the young adult. Alan wordlessly took it and slowly sipped the warm liquid.

 Kyrano noticed the magazines laying on the floor, immediately recognizing the contents inside, “I see the Kamen Riders give you some sort of comfort,” he pointed out.

 Alan nodded. Taking another sip before replying, “They had always been…”

 He remembered when he opened a random magazine at a thrift store after what it seemed to be a bad day at school, he turned to a particular page that struck a chord in him. A page filled with blurry pictures of the legendary Kamen Riders. Fighting whatever was terrorizing the place where people lived. Titles yelling, “WHO ARE THOSE BUGMEN?!” and texts summarizing a short history about them. It sparked curiosity withing Alan and… since then he became fond of them. Reading every news paper and magazine and listening to every radio and TV about those mysterious, bike ridding bug-eyed heroes.

 Alan’s eyes never left the magazine that started it all, in which Kyrano noticed.

 “Out of curiosity, what aspects of them make you feel comfort?” the elder asked.

 The young blonde said nothing. But his thoughts answered for him: They are cool! They are fascinating! The mystery behind them sends thrills of excitement in him. And the fact that they help and save people as the fight threats and monsters (which they are a mystery on their own), and still do to this day! And… They are respected. Yeah… Respected.

 Kyrano must’ve read his thoughts because the elder suddenly spoke, “I know what you were thinking, Mr. Alan. You wanted to be treated the way most of the world treated those bug-eyed heroes. But I am sure those Riders are just as human as you are.”

 Alan knew that. He swore looking at the blurry pictures on the papers and the captured footage on TV, he saw glimpses of them either helping, support and respect each other in smallest gestures! But course, he also saw glimpses of their shortcomings, but does that matter? They were human as much as he could see!

And there times when, basing on the facts from witness reports he could find, a Rider would do something so dangerous, so reckless and over the top, just to save a person’s life, yet their fellows would either just give a fist bump, a tight hug (although very rare), or just any simple gesture of “good job!”.

 His family on the other hand, especially after missions, would scold him for doing something so reckless.  It was getting hard to stay professional. He felt like an underdog. A child! And the only people who treated the way he was supposed to, was Tin-Tin (albeit a little), Brains, Lady Penelope, Parker, his grandmother and even Kyrano!

 “Drink your tea, Alan. You are getting angry again,” kindly reminded Kyrano.

 Alan snapped out of his thoughts looked at Kyrano, then he shook his head, “No, not really. Sort of…” he took another sip.

 Tin-Tin’s father simply stood next to him like a shadow. But it was a reassuring shadow. A quiet shadow that listens but never judges.

 With another sigh, Alan continued, “Its just… There were times where I wish I was a Kamen Rider. Not just because to have cool powers and all, but… because I would feel respected. Respected for my efforts of helping people. For my willingness to reach out my hand to those in peril. I barely get that here. At least that’s how I felt on this island…”

 He then turned to lock eyes with the old man, “Do you think the Kamen Riders will accept me?”

 Kyrano’s eyes widen for a moment. But Alan waited, patiently. Then, the elder finally answered “Well… don’t you think they already have, after that rescue?”

 Alan knew what he was talking about. That rescue with the building fire. The rescue when International Rescue and Kamen Riders have met for the first time. It was a shock, for him and his brothers. One moment they were attacked by some monsters and then the next thing they knew they were saved by the masked bugmen.

 “But what do you mean by that, Kyrano?” Alan raised a curious brow.

 “Well? What have you felt when that certain Rider that you’ve been recently fond with gave you the thumbs up?”

 The young blonde remembered that moment like it was yesterday. When the red Rider lifted his hand and gave Alan (and his brothers) a thumbs up. He thought he had never felt such complete satisfaction after coming back from a mission.

 Alan couldn’t help but to smile.

 “I see…” Kyrano said softly, the corner of his lips slightly raised upwards.

 “But… dad said we shouldn’t trust them… at least not yet!” the young blonde then pouted as he sipped his tea again. Maybe a bit of a gulp.

 Suddenly Tin-Tin’s father snorted, causing Alan’s head to shoot up and stared at him in confusion. Kyrano began explaining calmly, “Ah, Mr. Tracy sure is a wise man. But sometimes he forgets about knowing your allies. In this case, I am very sure the Kamen Riders have a long-recorded history. From what I had seen, they were complicated… but they were mostly good.”

 “Really?” the blue ocean eyes sparkled like the stars he loved.

 “See it for yourself. Don’t take my word for it,” smiled Kyrano honestly.

 The elder turned his heel and went towards the door. But not before turning back and said, “I shall return once you have finished your tea, Mr. Alan,” and then left quietly just as he came in.

 It was no wonder Kyrano was his dad’s close friend, thought Alan.

 His lips stretched into a face-splitting grin. His anger that boiled earlier simmered into a bubbling excitement. Looking down to look at the Kamen Riders in the magazines one more time, he picked them all up and put them back into the box. Then pushed the big carton container back into its place under his bed.

 Getting up, he walked over to a big aquarium, where his Pygmy Alligator was watching him the whole time. The mini gator excitedly crawled up the glass from, looking quite happy for his human friend. Alan smiled as he gently petted his reptile, cheeking the temperature and humidity of the enclosure and looked for anything he should clean.

 Then he looked up the clock… An hour and a half before his Pygmy Alligator needed to be fed. Alan sat next to his mini gator’s aquarium, thinking about what he should do before feeding time.

Then, a thought flashed through his mind. With a cheeky smile, the young blond turned to his gator, “I guess I should follow Kyrano’s advice. Don’t you think, Artemis?”

 The Pygmy Alligator seemed like he’s smiling at him.

 With a grin, Alan got up and went to fetch his laptop before returning to sit next to Artemis. His curiosity began peeking as soon as he opened his custom computer. His inner child thirst for knowledge as he typed in the fist thing that came to his mind:

 … Kamen Rider… Kuuga…

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Six // Hidan

Hidan

“Ah; you fucking lucky bastards! I should charge you all for this; to kiss an elite follower of the mighty Jashin is a privilege you assholes don’t deserve. Except you, Konan. In fact if you want to move the mistletoe to my bedroom then — ow! OW!! Kakuzu let go!! I was only kidding; can none of you take a fucking joke?!”

Konan

She sighs before she goes to him. He’s made a big deal all day about kissing her in particular, although she doesn’t get why. She feels nothing other than friendship for him, and, despite his ramblings, she doesn’t think he feels anything stronger either. Nevertheless, it’s her turn. She steps up to him and he reaches out and takes her small hands, giving them a surprisingly gentle squeeze. “You ready for this, gorgeous?” But something about that, about the word “gorgeous”, sets off the normally calm Konan. She yanks her hands out of his and plants them on her hips. “Gorgeous, beautiful, sexy — that’s literally all you ever say to me. I’m more than a pair of tits; I have a fucking brain in this head!” Hidan blinks, startled. “That’s - the first time I ever heard ya curse, Konan.” He grabs her hands again. He speaks in a soft voice and apologizes, and tells her that he has nothing but respect for her. “I only wanna kiss you so bad ‘cuz you’re beautiful INSIDE and out, and you bring lots of light to my shitty darkness.” She blushes and thanks him, and he takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss her lips. Just a soft touch, but both of them are smiling afterwards.

Deidara

Both of them are hesitant to do this, to say the least. Hidan won’t ever admit this, but he’s held a small physical attraction to Deidara since the day they met. Very small, and *purely* physical, but still. He doesn’t like thinking about it, because to do so would be him admitting to himself that his own sexuality isn’t as black and white as he’d thought it to be. He tells himself that if he likes Deidara at all, it’s simply because the guy looks ridiculously similar to a woman. Deidara doesn’t wish to kiss Hidan because, although HE will never admit to it, Hidan scares him. The man’s proven immortality throws a wrench into Deidara’s long-held ideals of what life (and art) are ultimately about: beauty made greater by virtue of being fleeting. But Hidan being able to live forever — could it be that Deidara’s partner Sasori has been right this whole time? That art really is eternal? Still, everyone is watching, so the two shake off their feelings, and Deidara approaches him. “Keep your tongue in your mouth, okay?” “Same goes for you, blondie.” Hidan gives himself very quick peck to the lips, but both men are blushing quite hard regardless. And even as brief as that was — Hidan makes note to ask Deidara what kind of shampoo he used later, because he smelled absolutely incredible.

Kisame

After the last kiss between them, when it was Kisame’s turn, Hidan is hesitant to get close to this guy again. But Kisame is grinning, and appears to be in a good mood. “Ah, come now, Hidan; surely we can let bygones be bygones?” Hidan starts to curse at him, but catches himself just in time: after all, his mouth was what got him into trouble last time. So he merely nods and stands still, while Kisame approaches him. “Are you afraid, Hidan?” “Ah? Why would I be —“ “I can smell the fear coming from you.” Hidan folds his arms in front of his chest and demands to know who wouldn’t be afraid at the thought of possible dismemberment. Kisame just laughs and promises he’ll behave himself. He leans in, locks eyes with Hidan, and flashes his teeth — before giving Hidan a closed-mouth kiss on the forehead. Hidan let’s out a shaky sigh of relief, and Kisame walks away, laughing.

Itachi

Like Deidara, Hidan has a bit of a grudge against the raven-haired Uchiha. He’s fallen victim before to the power of Itachi’s sharingan, and the calm, quiet way that Itachi reacts to Hidan’s jabs and wheedles always serve to irritate. But even so — Hidan has to admit that the guy isn’t all THAT bad (certainly not the hell-spawn that Deidara makes him out to be, anyway). There was a time once when Hidan caught a cold, and Itachi braved going into his room to bring him a cup of sinus-clearing tea. Itachi steps up to him and nods, and Hidan leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. An oddly sweet gesture, and one that Itachi seems to like, as he actually smiles before he leaves. Hidan watches him go, thinking (and not for the first time) that having a talent like the sharingan is completely wasted in someone who isn’t immortal. Maybe he should talk to him later about joining the Jashinist movement ...

Pein (Nagato)

If the Akatsuki is a family, and everybody (save Konan) are Pein’s children, then Hidan is undoubtedly the problem child of the group. The loudest, the most foul-mouthed, definitely the most violent ... but still. When Hidan could find an ounce of maturity, and focus, he was one of the best members of the team. And Nagato finds his regenerative abilities to be amazing, and, if there was ever the time and opportunity for it, would love to study Hidan in-depth. Pein approaches him and Hidan bows his head, an act of respect he gives to the Leader ... and ONLY the Leader. Pein delivers a light kiss to the forehead and walks away. He can hear Hidan mumbling behind him about “those damn piercings could kill somebody” but chooses to ignore it.

Zetsu

Oh, God. Hidan smells like human blood most of the time (thanks to his many gory sacrifices), and Zetsu is attracted to this scent like a bee is to a flower. He’d hang around this guy all day if he could, if not for the smell then to act as clean-up for the bits and pieces of his victims that he leaves behind. But Hidan doesn’t quite care for the plant man, to say the least. He didn’t sign up for the Akatsuki to be made to work alongside non-human freaks of nature. When Zetsu walks up to Hidan, the gray-haired jashin lover is nervous, to say the least. Zetsu puts his hand on Hidan’s face, leans in, and kisses his nose. It should only take a second, but Zetsu lingers over the spot for an abnormal amount of time ... and Hidan realizes it’s because he’s sniffing him, like an animal. “Okay, freak; get the hell away from me!” But Zetsu doesn’t move, in fact tightening his grip on Hidan’s face. Hidan is surprised; Zetsu is quite a bit stronger than he’d realized. His surprise turns to fear when the expression in Zetsu’s eyes shifts, and Hidan hears a very noticeable stomach-growl come from him. Hidan is seconds away from fight or flight (he hasn’t quite decided yet) when Tobi comes into the room, seemingly breaking the trance Zetsu had been in. Hidan breathes out a sigh of relief as zetsu keaves, giving silent thanks to the moron in the mask.

Tobi

After “scaring” Zetsu away, Tobi gleefully announces that its his turn with Hidan. “Ohh boy, Hidan-san! You and Tobi are gonna have fun!” Hidan is actually quite eager for this; not so much for the kiss itself, but for his chance to see this freak up close and unmasked. Tobi looks behind him; nobody else is around. He turns back to Hidan and slides his mash halfway off his face, revealing his pale skin, dark, long-lashed eyes, and full lips, pursed into a grin. Getting closer, Hidan can detect faded, jagged lines extending from the right side of his forehead to the bottom of his mouth. Still, even with them — “Fucking hot”, Hidan mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them. Tobi grins and cups Hidan’s face, staring into his eyes. “So are you,” he murmurs, and is it Hidan’s imagination or is his voice ... different, somehow? Well, no time to think about it; suddenly Tobi’s (unbelievably soft) lips are on his own, and for the first time since this encounter started, Hidan feels a feather-touch of unease. The way Tobi’s kissing him ... this isn’t how an idiot kisses. What in the name of Jashin — and then just as quickly as it began, it ends. Tobi slides his mask back into place, and skips off to the kitchen. Hidan has to take a few moments to collect himself, and in the way-back of his mind is a small voice urging him to warn Deidara to watch himself around Tobi. About what? Hidan doesn’t know the specifics. All he knows is those two are alone a LOT for missions, and if Tobi really is more than he seems, then — But then again, why should he care what happens with the blonde jerk, anyway?

Sasori

Another person that annoys Hidan. He was in the Akatsuki for almost an entire year before he’d realized that the ugly body that he was in, wasn’t even his own. His surprise when he witnessed a hatch open and a childlike-looking redhead step out was unprecedented. Learning that he was in his 30’s meant that Hidan should have shown him the proper respect, but Hidan just couldn’t take orders from somebody with the face of a young boy. Sasori seems to know this, and therefore avoids interactions with him as much as possible. Now, however, contact is unavoidable. “Can you even reach my face, shorty?” Sasori tilts his head and seems to really be considering Hidan’s question. Suddenly, without warning, Sasori’s wooden arm detaches itself from Sasori’s body, and hits Hidan full-force in the center of his stomach. Hidan curses and doubles over, and while he’s bent Sasori takes the opportunity to go to Hidan and kiss his forehead. “I can reach you just fine, brat,” he murmurs, before leaving. Hidan has a quick recovery time to all forms of pain, and he’s quickly back on his feet, staring after Sasori with anger — and a tiny bit of admiration.

Kakuzu

“Hey old fucker; you’ve been waiting all day to get a taste of this, eh?” Kakuzu just rolls his eyes at Hidan’s comment. He’s not sure what he did, either in this life or another one, to be partnered with a creature as odious as Hidan. Normally with people that Kakuzu finds no value in, he kills, plain and simple. But Hidan is neither plain nor simple; no matter what Kakuzu hits him with, he keeps getting back up, just as loud and irritating as ever. But ... even someone as gruff as Kakuzu has to admit that Hidan isn’t all that bad. It’s actually a bit lovely, to have found another person (besides Sasori, who has made it clear that when everyone else expires, his complete solitude is something he’s looking forward to) to be with to share the blessing (and curse) of immortality. He walks up to Hidan and grabs him by the forearms, forcing him into stillness. “What the hell, old man?! Let go of me before —“ but Kakuzu interrupts him by inclining his neck and kissing his lips. Hidan’s mouth is soft, and he has a taste to him, something akin to cinnamon or pumpkin. Kakuzu let’s go of him and starts to walk away, when suddenly Hidan reaches out grabs him, pulling him into another kiss. Kakuzu is surprised, but he makes no attempt to break Hidan’s hold on him because ... this is nice. This feels good, this feels natural. Almost like — and then a sudden explosion makes them both jump; Tobi comes running past them, with Deidara (and his bombs) on his heels. “Get back here you little shit!!” Kakuzu sighs, and this time when he turns to go, Hidan doesn’t stop him. But Kakuzu can feels Hidan’s eyes on him, following him all the way to his room.

[siennahrobek]

He hadn’t realized it, but Alpha-17 had been waiting for this moment. This time. Whatever.

His loyalty had always been to the Republic, rather strictly, thanks to his training and upbringing, even though it never seemed like the government had cared about him or anyone else. It was something he was used to. The trainers didn’t care about anything but what they were being paid. The Kaminoans didn’t care about anything aside from progress in their work and perfection from the clones. Before, it hadn’t mattered. He did his job; that was his purpose, his whole reason for being. There was nothing else.

And then the war started. The Jedi came.

And then, despite the death and fighting and everything else, the jedi cared.

General Shaak Ti and General Kenobi had been adamant to save the clones still in tubes during the first invasion of Kamino, despite the fact that it would have been more efficient and easier just to destroy them.

They had been steadfast in saving lives.

Time had gone on and the jedi fought alongside them. Died alongside them. They encouraged speech and individuality and names.

Alpha-17 didn’t exactly know when his outlook had shifted but it had and now, he had committed mutiny against his planet, against everyone, to save his brothers from being brainwashed completely, to have the one thing they had freedom of taken away. He had committed mutiny to help them, to help the jedi. The Jedi that the clones had been made for, the jedi that had accepted them so readily and the jedi whose fates were intertwined with their own.

It would be about three days until they would arrive and virtually every single clone was working nonstop. The city was near completely torn apart by the time the ships under Kenobi’s command came into their space and kept off to the side of the planet, far enough away that they could make an escape if a ship began to fire upon them.

Alpha-17 and Commander Colt messaged the ships, indicating their safe orbit around the planet. Several gunships come down to the planet side with an entire slew of jedi and clones. Commander Colt had found General Shaak Ti and sagged in relief but Alpha-17’s attention was behind her, where General Kenobi strode off the gunship with Commander Cody and Captain Rex by his side.

Storming up to them, Alpha-17 stopped in front of the trio, staring at General Kenobi up and down with such intensity, he nearly thought the Jedi would combust into flames.

“Uh…sir?” Captain Rex questioned.

“At least you’re wearing some armor again,” Alpha-17 told the general instead, rather gruffly. General Kenobi’s smile was a bit weak but no less genuine. “Where is that scamp of an apprentice of yours, he’s usually right behind you.”

“It is good to see you, as well, captain,” General Kenobi greeted. “Your blunt honesty has been sorely missed. I am sorry to say that…that Anakin’s allegiance lies with the Empire now.”

“The Empire that tried brainwashed my brothers and tried to kill all the jedi,” Alpha-17 replied, flatly. Wordlessly, General Kenobi nodded. Alpha decided not to say any more on the matter. “We have a war room set up. Your bridge said you need to try and contact any of the jedi out in the field.”

“Yes, we have warned many, but now we have to plan on what we are going to do as well as thoughts on where to rendezvous,” General Kenobi explained. “It is also a bit of a roll call, as we don’t…know who survived.

“Master Kenobi,” a new voice called out as a human man walked towards them. Alpha-17 looked over and watched him warily.

“Alpha-17, this is Battle Master Cin Drallig,” General Kenobi introduced to a long-haired Jedi. “I think you two will get along fairly well. Master Drallig, Captain Alpha-17.”

“Well met, Captain,” the battle master greeted. Alpha-17 imagined with a title like battle master, General Kenobi was probably, irritatingly, correct. He did sound like someone he would perhaps get along with. “I have a feeling we may be working together often.”

Alpha-17 took his hand with the shake. “Why would you say that sir?”

Battle master Drallig just smirked. “Just a feeling.”

The captain led them towards the inner workings of what was left of the city and towards the large room with a nearly just as big holo table. There were already several jedi and nearly just as many clone officers standing around the edges.

He watched as General Kenobi, flanked by General Ti and battle master Drallig, straightened himself, taking a deep breath before the giant holo table flickered to life, the visage of several jedi and sometimes their respective commanders with them popping up in blue form.

There was many of them.

He imagined it was a relief to the other jedi. Alpha-17 tried to take stock of all those who were standing around. There were a few that Alpha-17 recognized, including Wolffe’s general, General Koon and Bly’s as well, General Secura but for the most part, he knew very few of them. The former looked as calm and put together as always, even though his arm was bandaged up to his side. General Secura was leaning forward, her own holo call trembling as her eyes nearly blazed which looked still intimidating even with the slew of wrappings around one of her lekku.

“As many of you are aware,” General Kenobi started, coolly. “The Republic has fallen, an Empire has rose in its place with the dark lord of the Sith at its head. We have been deceived and in it, the Temple has been lost. Former chancellor – now emperor – Palpatine is the Sith Lord we have been searching for.”

There were gasps all around, horrified stares and even a bit of pained denials.

“Right under our nose,” General Secura snarled.

“It is…very good to know that many have you survived,” General Kenobi interrupted. “We have a lot more pressing matters to attend, however. One of my communications officers, Menace, will take down everyone’s names of here and I will want you to tell him your situation so we can keep track. If you are not with your soldiers and/or do not have access to a holo table and are listening via long distance commlink, Menace will be your voice and ears if necessary. Whatever you need,” he continued, gesturing to the clone that was sitting in the corner, surrounded by equipment. He looked up and waved, indicating his presence.

There were nods around the table.

“We are currently on the planet Kamino, picking up any supplies and the clones that wish to come with us,” General Kenobi started up again in explanation, keeping his back straight and his posture perfect that even Alpha could appreciate it. “We do not know how much time we have so we are quickly working to evacuate all the young ones, the clones and then any resources they want to take.”

“I know…. I know they were chipped and that is not their fault,” a general Alpha-17 didn’t recognize said warily, swallowing heavily. “And they have the right to choose… but can we trust them?”

There were very few bristles but mostly shifts in posture with glances away from the Jedi.

“I have worked much with Alpha-17 during the beginnings of the war,” General Kenobi replied, firmly. He could see General Shaak Ti and a few others straightening with a near looming presence. “I trust him. Although first loyalties were to the Republic and the Jedi second, since the Republic has been replaced with an Empire…”

General Secura snickered with a gleaming grin. “Loophole.”

“And with him is my Commander, Colt, who I do trust,” General Shaak Ti cut in, seriously. Although her expression was as collected as he had ever seen it, her tone was underlaid with something that would not be argued. Commander Colt smiled faintly, just slightly shy at the praise.

“It appears that you are doing well in facilitating our survival, General Kenobi,” General Tapal commended with a nod. The Lasat General shifted while his padawan, a young human child, glanced up at him and grinned, keeping himself so close to his master that he was nearly hanging onto him. General Kenobi acknowledge him and then glanced towards Healer Che to take over.

The twi’lek healer had been one that Alpha-17 knew, he had spent some time in the healers, ward and he had come to respect the master healer. She was no argument and never took any crap from anyone.

“The chips within the clones are not difficult to remove,” Healer Che started to explain, pulling up diagrams and scans, clicking and swiping through some of the holo table as she sent the visuals to the others across the galaxy. “If one has the right droid or scanner, it is a very simple surgery. The only problem is you need a level five minimum atomic scan to find it which I don’t think many ships have. If you have the requisite medical droid, I would just allow them to do it. It does not take long, and the recovery time is short,” she added, calmly. “If you have a scanner capable of the level of scan and excellent medics with steady hands, they can remove it fairly easily if you would like.”

“However,” Commander Colt cut in. “If you find yourself in a pinch and being surrounded by activated brothers, we do have a pulse that will nullify the effects of the chips for several hours,” he added, pulling up his own research to replace that of the healer. It showed schematics on a small generator. “Only use it once and only if necessary because we don’t know the effect of several pulses. It should give you enough time to escape. I will have General Kenobi’s officer send you the specs of its creation. All ships should be able to scramble up the parts fairly easy.”

“That is a start,” General Koon rumbled through his mask and vocoder, shifting his wounded arm. Alpha-17 could see Commander Wolffe barely concealing a snarl right next to him. “Is there any other way to avoid the chips being activated? Do we know how they are activated?”

“Currently, at least the Empire’s voice does that with specific orders,” Alpha-17 found himself stepping up to speak. “It started with Commander Cody after he got a call from the emperor. We suspect he probably contacted, or tried to contact, the Marshal Commanders and from there, the Commander’s orders would relay the activation.”

“Proximity also appears to be a large way of the activation being spread,” Commander Colt added.

“So, we limit communications as much as possible, especially with the clones until they can be de-chipped,” General Secura shrugged. “That seems mostly doable.”

“But where do we go from here?” an older jedi rumbled.

“Right now, we move away from the Empire. Start moving towards the outer rim, towards wild space,” Battle master Drallig started, his voice rather booming in the room they were in. “The Empire will start to scramble what forces and resources they have to come after us and our men. They know current locations so move, group together if you can. If you are near another jedi or fleet that has not been activated, join together.”

“I am working on which planet would be the best to retreat to,” an older woman with tightly bound white hair, stepped forward. Her voice was no nonsense and serious with no room for argument. “I have a team as well helping to figure out the best place to go. Because we need a planet that is inhabitable to accommodate as many as we can, outside of the Empire’s view and not within their memory.”

“You have not gotten there yet,” one of the field generals noted.

She shook her head. “Not quite. I am working as quickly as I can. We cannot be running around trying to find a planet. It will be some time for all of us to come together, but we will keep in touch.”

“Ration your food, take care of each other,” General Shaak Ti added. “And fuel, get it where and when you can. I imagine very soon the Empire will make getting resources very difficult, if not impossible, to gather. Gather what you can.”

“I imagine we will have quite the fleet,” General Billaba hummed. The padawan next to her barely suppressed a snicker.

“That leads me to my next point,” General Kenobi added, glancing between Commander Cody and Alpha-17.

Alpha narrowed his eyes, suspiciously as he waited for the general to continue.

“Like I told the jedi here, I have offered the clones a place with us,” he started slowly. “And like I said, I know I didn’t particularly have the authority to do so but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Master Koon assured with a bit of a chuckle. “I do believe it would have been unanimous.”

“And well, Alpha-17 and Commander Colt had already committed mutiny with the intent of following us,” he added, glancing at Alpha-17 with a dry, vaguely amused look. There was something else there in his look that Alpha-17 wasn’t entirely sure on. “However, I have noted that if any freed clones do not wish to make this journey with us, we will let them go to wherever they would want, with our blessings.”

Alpha-17 was a little surprised by the nods around the room, although even he could tell there was some vague disappointed even through the calls.

“I will relay it to the others,” Commander Cody said, although Alpha-17 knew him. His tone had a tint of dryness. “Don’t expect any other answers, however.”

“Same here on Kamino,” Alpha-17 grunted.

He doubted anyone else could see it but something in General Kenobi’s shoulders shifted.

“Besides,” Commander Colt interjected. “We don’t really have any experience with cadets, we could use some help with the tubies,” he admitted.

“Tubies?” a general echoed.

“Babies,” General Shaak Ti amended with a smile.

“We are not abandoning the galaxy,” General Kenobi announced with a breath. “But we need a plan. We must rebuild, regain strength before we can do anything about the Empire. We will not abandon people, nor the rest of the clones.”

“But we do need a plan,” General Koon agreed, nodding.

“Which we will do,” battle master Drallig assured.

“We will find somewhere very ancient, old and obscure. Far from minds and memory,” the white-haired woman added. “A place of refuge where we can plan our next moves.”

“Does anyone have any questions?”

“I’m sure I can speak for everyone when I say numerous,” General Billaba noted with a curiously raised brow. “But I do imagine you will not have much time to gather from Kamino and get away before the Empire catches up.”

“Menace will gather a list of everyone,” General Kenobi started again. “Please keep in touch with him and his team with updates on your positions as you move so we can keep together. Everything we add will be coded. He has a few things to send to you as well.”

“We have survived thus far,” General Koon rumbled, the vocoder easy and low, nearly crackling through the call. “And if we work together, we will continue to survive this.”

***

“That seemed rather successful, Master Kenobi,” battle master Drallig noted with a sly smile as they walked out of the war room. The large holo call had lasted a little longer, with more questions, answers and suggestions. Commander Cody, Captain Rex and Alpha-17 walked behind, following the jedi easily. The others had filed out, the six of them were some of the last few, leaving only Menace and his team to gather a list and give out necessary information. “Many are alive,” he added, glancing over at the other generals.

“There is hope,” General Shaak Ti agreed, calmly. “And we must also keep in mind, there are very possibly still others who have lived but were unable to make contact. We should have Menace’s team to search for other commcodes to send messages, just in case.”

General Kenobi nodded. “That is a good idea, Master.”

“I will return to the ship and set it up,” she hummed.

“I have something you need to see,” Alpha-17 announced, shooting a glance at General Kenobi. His mouth had been moving before his brain caught up but at this point, he figured it would be a good moment to do it. He was met with a rather fond but confused look. “It won’t take long.”

“Alright,” General Kenobi replied with a small shrug. “Commander Cody, Captain Rex, would you mind going with Master Drallig and Master Shaak Ti back up to our ship for a final count on what field Jedi have responded and survived?”

Commander Cody gave the both of them a rather suspicious look but the few of them walked off towards the landing platform where their gunship would be waiting. Alpha-17 barely waited before he gestured for the general to follow, unwilling to impart answers as he walked through what was left of the city. They got towards his destination and opened the door.

Good, they were still waiting for their transportation to one of the cruisers.

“Hey guys,” Alpha-17 greeted a group of younglings, gruffly, his voice mumbling through, trying not to sound too fond of the inhabitants of the room. “I brought you someone you’ll want to see.”

The room was full of a small group of cadets, nearly a dozen of them. They were all the same, as the clones were, and the expressions on their faces were nearly exactly the same as well but their voices shifted into different types of gasps and light screeches.

One of them stepped forward towards General Kenobi, eyes shining as he stared up at him. General Kenobi just glanced down and then looked back up at Alpha-17, quite thoroughly confused. It was almost comical.

“Is that…” one of the children asked.

“Yes,” Alpha-17 affirmed.

“General Kenobi!” they cried in shock, nearly tripping over one another to get a closer look. General Kenobi just smiled warmly down at him, taking it in stride as he walked forth into the gaggle of children although he was completely bewildered and puzzled, and it showed.

“Hello there,” he greeted softly as he let the kids climb over him.

“Seven!” one of them shrieked, making the captain crinkle his nose in some irritation. General Kenobi just shot him a small laugh, shaking his head. He had no idea what was going on but if there was one thing the alpha clone knew, he loved children. The young clone glared at the captain with a firm pout, shaking his head vehemently. “You did not tell us we were going to meet our finder.”

“My apologies,” General Kenobi said, already holding a child in his arms and several others clinging to his legs as he turned towards the captain. “I’m your what now?”

Alpha-17 groaned lightly and shook his head, nearly bringing his hands up to cover his face, the cadet staring at him, intently. He let out a sigh of resignation and then a breath as he began to clarify. “General Shaak Ti, when she visits the cadets, she tells them about the Jedi. She tells them a lot of things,” he explained. “I don’t know how it happened or where it came from, but she told a class once about Jedi finders, their role in bringing children to the Temple and into the Order. She explained their importance and how many children had relationships with their finders growing up. When she was asked…she rather insinuated that our… the clone “finder” was, well, you,” he explained, a bit uncertainly. “It kind of snowballed from there and now nearly every young cadet class knows and well, thinks that way.”

General Kenobi stopped and stared at him for a long moment. Even Alpha-17 could determine his reaction.

And he kept staring.

Would this man just have a reaction already?

And then, abruptly, he burst out into such laughter to the point that Alpha-17 nearly thought he was crying. The general hugged the child in his arm closer and laughed some more, his shoulder and whole body shaking from the movement. Apparently, he found this hilarious, Alpha-17 mused.

“I would love to be considered your finder, dear ones.”

He was glad he had brought General Kenobi here, for this small moment.

***

He had originally intended on going to General Kenobi’s flagship, but he was redirected towards a modified cruiser that had appeared not long ago by the battle master Drallig. The trip was quiet and although Alpha-17 was fairly certain he wasn’t anywhere near force sensitive, even he thought he could feel the gratitude and happiness echoing off of the General.

He had made the right choice, starting his mutiny without approval.

As they walked off the gunship and onto the docking bay of the venator, General Kenobi let a small, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome, general.”

General Kenobi opened his mouth to say something else, but his eyes caught sight of another, and his gaze dragged over the area. He stepped back, nearly tripping over a box as his eyes widened.

“Sir?”

The general practically flew across the docking bay. Alpha-17 caught sight of the battle master, Drallig, at the other end, alongside another jedi. Dark skin, even darker hair, weird yellow stripe over his face and nose. Alpha-17 felt like he had seen him before. Nonetheless, Alpha-17 jogged after him, quickly on his heels.

The general nearly threw himself at the other jedi, tightening his grip around him in a fierce hug. Such public display Alpha-17 hadn’t seen from his general was rather rare so this must have been an importance person to him. Kenobi tucked himself into space, squeezing the man tightly. The other jedi looked utterly surprised but before he could even think of hugging – or not – back, General Kenobi hastily pulled away a few steps and didn’t even meet the other Jedi’s gaze.

“My apologies, Quinlan,” he murmured, shaking his head. “That was uncalled for, I do sincerely apologize for touching without permission. I will take my leave.”

The other Jedi – Quinlan – looked just confused and befuddled in a way that almost, just almost, would have made Alpha-17 laugh. He didn’t even think a jedi couldhave that expression. General Kenobi hurriedly shuffled away down the hall, presumably towards the bridge.

“What was that about?” Quinlan asked, glancing at the battle master for answers but his eyes ended up trailing general Kenobi as he walked away. Alpha-17 was ready to follow him but for the moment, somehow his feet wouldn’t move.

The battle master sighed and frowned. “Anakin Skywalker has fallen to the dark side, and he is now the new Sith apprentice. He is the one who led the attack on the Temple.”

Some kind of understanding fell upon the Jedi’s face as it twisted into something horrified of some type.

Alpha-17 didn’t know what that meant.

“Force,” he whispered under his breath.

And then he took off after the general. Alpha-17 rolled his eyes and sighed, barely catching a glimpse of the battle master before jogging off after him. “Again,” he muttered, keeping just behind the unfamiliar jedi.

“Obi-Wan!” the jedi shouted out.

General Kenobi stiffened and hesitated before finally stopping. He let out a soft sigh and turned around, forcing himself to look up at the man. “Quinlan,” he greeted, fairly evenly despite the shaking in his voice.

“Hey, hey buddy,” Quinlan murmured, carefully putting his hand on General Kenobi’s pauldron. “Master Drallig told me about Anakin. I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan.”

General Kenobi took a shaky breath. “I don’t…I don’t think I can really talk about it right now,” he admitted quietly, just barely leaning into the other jedi’s touch.

“Alright,” he agreed, and he didn’t seem to bothered by the notion. He quite quickly changed the subject which ended up being a good call. “Dex says you have a friend for life, ya know.”

Glancing at him, General Kenobi ended up with a small smile. “You were one of the jedi that Dex said he had.”

“Yeah. I found Master Windu. He’s in pretty rough shape but I think he might make it through, probably because I got him into a bacta tank quicker. Wanna hear how I took over the entire medical venator star cruiser,” Quinlan said with a grin.

An eyebrow raised on General Kenobi’s face but there was a relief in that, probably due to the fact that a jedi he knew was alive. “You…took over a ship? Full of clones around Coruscant.”

The long-haired jedi laughed. “Oh, let me tell you. It was kind of awesome. Not as hard as I thought, considering. But since I am a shadow, so you know, it is part of my skill set,” he winked and it made the general smile back at him, although lightly.

Alpha-17 just walked and listened as the jedi went to a full, long tirade about how he had taken over the ship and escaped with the clones. He couldn’t help be grateful, the jedi had rescued hundreds of his brothers, some of which may have been killed outright due to the fact they were sick or wounded. Still, he already had the feeling that this Quinlan character was kind of annoying.

“Dex is amazing, let me tell you,” Quinlan had said with the biggest grin. Something must have been going on with General Kenobi in the force or whatever because practically every time the man twitched, the other jedi would get happier and speak brighter. “I made a plan and needed some guys to help me out. Within the hour, the hour, Obi-Wan, he had gotten me a lineup of dozens of beings to pick from for my heist. He has got some serious connections!”

General Kenobi smiled and it was warm. Alpha-17 could almost feel it. “Dex is good like that,” he agreed. “I found Kamino because of him.”

Quinlan continued to explain the rest of the couple of days. His plan had been mildly impressive and well thought out, even Alpha-17 could begrudgingly admit. The jedi did not go in halfcocked and impulsively. And the fact that he checked to make sure there wasn’t a jedi on board, so the chips probably hadn’t been activated was probably smart. At least he didn’t jump aboard the first ship he came across and took over the bridge, just hoping nothing would go wrong.

There were a couple medical stations across the galaxy and several more pelta-class medical frigates that traveled with wounded soldiers aboard. There wasn’t a medical station orbiting Coruscant, as they were around the rest of the galaxy. Clones weren’t allowed to be treated on planet mingled with the regular citizens, although the Jedi often treated clones in their own Healing Halls frequently. They didn’t just go around turning people away who needed care.

One of the large venator cruisers had been converted into somewhat of a medical station, or at least, used as one. It was the main place where clones were treated for illness or injuries, when they could make it there. It was a good one to take over, he imagined, if one had a good plan. Which apparently the master jedi had.

There must not have been any jedi stationed at the medical facility during the time because Quinlan explained how he made sure that none of the chips had been activated. He had shut down communications with jammers around the ship and eventually took it over, locking up most of the natborns that weren’t cooperative and confiscating long range commlinks. Men were locked in certain portions of the ship to where they were stationed, at least those just handling the ship. Medics themselves were dechipped so they could continue to help those who needed it. Everything was neat and tidy and even Alpha-17 had to be impressed.

It was not only a well-thought-out mission and operation but a successful one as well. Quinlan had brought back an entire venator crew of clones with as well as many other, although wounded, brothers as well.

By the time he was done, General Kenobi’s smile was rather wide, and he offered his congratulations to the other jedi. He was thankful, Alpha-17 quickly realized. Not only had he saved people that General Kenobi valued, but he had kept his mind off of Skywalker. He hadn’t even pushed; he didn’t even ask. Nothing circled back to it.

The jedi explained about the Commander he came across, Hound, and how he had helped him. The guy was a mad man and apparently, Quinlan appreciated that sort of thing. They had rather hit it off, along with his mastiff, Grizzler, who went everywhere Hound did.

Alpha-17 wasn’t sure whether he should be worried.

“Do we know who all survived?” Quinlan asked, nudging General Kenobi gently.

“One of the officers, Menace, is compiling a list of those who have responded or were present at the meeting,” General Kenobi replied with a nod. “As far as I could tell during the meeting, it seemed quite a fair few had blocked communications or escaped in time. Aalya was one of them,” he assured. “She looked just a little banged up but okay. Her troops weren’t activated.”

Tension fell from Quinlan’s shoulders. “Thank, Obes.”

“Of course,” he added. And then, his commlink beeped urgently. General Kenobi opened it up and a gruff voice burst though. “This is Kenobi.”

“Master Kenobi,” battle master Drallig replied. “You should get back down to the loading bay. Something has happened.”

Several medical officers rushed down the halls around them. Alpha-17 caught one of them by the arm, stopping him abruptly. “Officer, what is going on?”

“A ship came out of hyperspace a few minutes ago!” the soldier reported, worriedly. “It open fired on one of our ships and then stopped. We think it is full of activated clones and there are injured jedi,” he said before pulling away and running off again.

General Kenobi swallowed heavily and the three of them chased after the group back down the hall. The loading back was a mad house of yelling officers and wounded soldiers. Out in space, it could be seen one of the ships was partially on fire with several fighters surrounding it, ready to destroy if necessary.

“Whose ship is that?”

A rolling cot ran down from a ship towards the hall. Alpha-17 watched as General Kenobi stared wide eyed. The man on the gurney was a male, a jedi from the robes, he imagined with short blonde hair that was practically soaked in blood. There was a lot of blood.

A lot.

General Kenobi’s breath got caught in this throat, his eyes wide and his hand gripping Quinlan’s vambrace so tight he thought it would crack. “Master Feemor,” he whispered.

“Feemor?” Quinlan muttered under his breath. “Where…”

Alpha-17’s old general backed up a few steps as a realization came across him. “Oh God, Ahsoka,” his head whipped around, frantically. “Where is Ahsoka? Has anyone seen Ahsoka Tano?!” he shouted out, turning and turning and turning.

“I…I’m here, Master,” a new, feminine voice announced, although rather quiet. The three of them turned around. There was a clone next to her although he had quite a few mechanical parts, more so than Alpha-17 had seen on any others. A Togruta jedi was standing there, her arms hugging herself and her eyes downcast.

General Kenobi sighed in relief. “Ahsoka, what in the galaxy happened?”

[robininthelabyrinth]

NMJ is in Cloud Recesses while LWJ is being punished for visiting WWX at Burial Mounds. LXC tells him what happened, and the 2 decide to go there to see with their own eyes exactly what is going on. A-Yuan has them wrapped around his little finger in .5 seconds, and NMJ is not inclined to put him down. Also, WQ takes one look at him and tells him he's deviating and he's gonna die in less than a year if it's not cured. He might just be in love.

“Your brother is being punished?” Nie Mingjue asked, more than a little surprised. “Your brother? Did we switch brothers again?”

Lan Xichen had to press his lips together to stop from laughing at the reminder of that time when they’d tried to swap the two babies (well, baby and toddler) while their elders had been distracted during a discussion conference – Nie Mingjue’s father was always complaining about how weak and low-energy his new son was, while Lan Qiren scowled about how much noise Lan Zhan made, and they’d thought it was a perfect solution to both problems. It hadn’t worked, of course, given the difference a year made for very young children, and they’d both been punished (while their elders coughed badly-suppressed laughter into their sleeves), but all in all it’d been an interesting first meeting.

“He visited the Burial Mounds without permission,” he explained. “Uncle was very upset.”

“Your uncle isn’t sect leader,” Nie Mingjue said, a little sharply. He’d had some struggles for control and respect when he became sect leader himself, given how young he’d been – at the time Lan Xichen had thought they were being ridiculous, though in retrospect he realized with a pang exactly how much of his friend’s childhood had been lost to a responsibility exceeding that of even most adults – and it remained a sensitive subject. “And merely visiting a place isn’t against your family rules…you approved the punishment, then?”

Lan Xichen hesitated, because he hadn’t. Approval wasn’t considered as necessary in the Lan sect as it was in the Nie; elders were allowed to discipline juniors without consulting the Sect Leader even when it was outside the family rules – the two of them often argued whether such a system left openings for abuse (Nie Mingjue’s position) or encouraged trust (Lan Xichen’s view). 

“Well, he went without permission,” he temporized.

Nie Mingjue snorted, seeing through the excuse at once. “He hasn’t needed to get permission to go places even before he fought in a war, Xichen,” he pointed out. “He was a very good general.”

That was very high praise, from Nie Mingjue, with particular emphasis on Lan Wangji’s reliable judgment; otherwise, he would have used different words.

“It’s the Burial Mounds,” Lan Xichen insisted, still trying to defend his uncle’s judgment. “Wei Wuxian is dangerous –”

“So is night-hunting.”

“You’re just being contrary for the sake of arguing with me,” Lan Xichen said. Nie Mingjue didn’t deny it, though he wouldn’t: it was a measure of his trust in Lan Xichen that he would break etiquette enough to casually pick a fight like this. “Fine, have it your way: I’ll put an end to the punishment now, and we’ll go ourselves to Yiling. If it’s more dangerous than night-hunting, the punishment resumes; if it’s less, it’s absolved, and I will apologize to Wangji myself. Agreed?”

“How did I get roped into this?” Nie Mingjue pretended to complain. “What business is it of mine how your Lan sect teaches its disciples…? But since you insist, I will of course accompany you.”

“Your acquiescence is appreciated – even if a less polite man than I might speculate that you just don’t want to meet with all the minor sect leaders that routinely take advantage of your visits to come by with requests.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t smile – he never did, anymore, which was a pity – but his brow wasn’t furrowed in anger for once, and that was very nearly the same.

Lan Xichen was just as inclined to avoid the inevitable pestering as Nie Mingjue, so he put his plan into action at once and headed out before his uncle could notice what was going on outside his door – not that it was a problem if his uncle objected, of course, he was the sect leader now, but still, why start trouble that could be avoided? Especially since Lan Xichen was going with Nie Mingjue, which significantly lessened the chance of danger; there was little that could stand up against the two of them together. Including Wei Wuxian’s defensive arrays, brilliant as they were, which shattered after a few gestures - after all, it wouldn’t be much of an evaluation if there was time for the Yiling Patriarch to cover things up while they were waiting for permission to enter.

Not that there seemed to be much to cover up.

The Burial Mounds weren’t anything at all like what Lan Xichen had heard, and judging by the increasingly black look on Nie Mingjue’s face, the same was true for him; the ragged collection of farmers tending to an even more ragged collection of crops was far away from the roving army of fierce corpses Wei Wuxian was reputed to be raising here.

“He’s not raising people,” Lan Xichen murmured.

“Well, one,” Nie Mingjue said. Lan Xichen turned to look, but it appeared that what Nie Mingjue was referring to was a small child, buried waist deep into the mud and beaming about it. Lan Xichen gave Nie Mingjue a look, because now was not the appropriate moment for his friend’s deeply buried sense of humor to re-emerge as if greeting the spring…great, now he was making planting jokes, even if only within his own mind. “Xichen, there are hardly any cultivators here.”

“The remnants of the Wen sect?” Lan Xichen guessed, politely ignoring the piece of spiced meat Nie Mingjue had taken out from his pocket to give to the child, who was trying to wiggle his way out of the dirt in order to demand a ride on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “I hadn’t realized they were quite so reduced. Rumor seems to have blown things quite out of proportion…”

“Don’t touch him!” a woman snapped, and they both turned; her clothing was faded, but still recognizable as the colors of the Wen sect, and Lan Xichen could feel the way Nie Mingjue tensed, the way Baxia, on his back, began to quiver in anticipation. “A-Yuan, come here, quick.”

“No!” the child said, clinging to Nie Mingjue’s leg. “I wanna ride!”

“I don’t give rides to radishes,” Nie Mingjue said, his eyes still fixed on the approaching woman – Wen Qing, if Lan Xichen is recalling her name correctly. A doctor, once. “Didn’t you say you were a radish?”

“I’m human! I’m human!”

“If you’re a human, you need to listen to your seniors. Get her permission first.”

“You don’t have it,” Wen Qing snapped. “Get away from him at once, A-Yuan. That man is dangerous.”

“We don’t mean any harm,” Lan Xichen interjected quickly before things went south.

“You may not,” she said. “But the one next to you is halfway down the road to a qi deviation; I wouldn’t trust him with any child, least of all one of blood that he despises.”

There was no way to salvage this, but Lan Xichen was determined to try regardless. “Lady Wen –”

“If I recall correctly, her title was Supervisory Office Leader.” Nie Mingjue’s voice was cold and biting. “In Yiling, no less. If I recall correctly, Office Leader Wen Qing refused to dirty her hands by raising a sword directly, and, valued as she was by Wen Ruohan, he did not force her. And so Yiling became a place to keep prisoners – isn’t that right?”

“I was a doctor,” she said, voice equally stiff. “I cared for all sick and injured without distinction –”

“Until they were well enough to be executed –”

“We are guests here, Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen reminded him desperately. “And the war is over, and Lady Wen is a civilian now.”

“She’s still a cultivator,” Nie Mingjue said through gritted teeth. “I do not generally permit cultivators of any sect to say that I harm children; would you prefer I challenge her to defend her words against my saber? I am willing – Office Leader Wen can name the time and place. Unless she prefers to continue to hide behind the cloak of the powerful?”

This was a disaster.

“No one is fighting anyone,” Lan Xichen said firmly. “Lady Wen will apologize for the implication, said in a moment of anger and out of concern for her…for her young relative; in return, we will apologize for arriving without an invitation or forewarning, and then we will all limit ourselves to saying only polite things.”

Both of them open their mouths to protest, and he adds sharply, “Now, if you please.”

He shot Nie Mingjue a look, urging him to recall that he was here at Lan Xichen’s invitation, and his friend scowled but begrudgingly nodded his agreement. Lan Xichen turned his stare onto Wen Qing next – her lips were pressed tightly together, unwilling to yield, but after a few seconds, she finally gave in.

“The implication was wrongly said, and inappropriate,” she said begrudgingly. “Sect Leader Nie’s strict discipline and ethical code are well-known. Even in battle, I’ve never heard of you attacking children…your qi is unsettled, though.”

“That isn’t any of your business,” he said, and she shrugged.

“You’re right, it isn’t, except that you’ve challenged me as a monster when I believe myself to be a doctor,” she said, and now it was her turn to cross her arms. “My own ethical code demands that I treat any injury in those I see; if I fail to do so, then my forbearance during all those years of war will be rendered meaningless and I’d be as guilty as you say I am.”

“I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts as a doctor,” Lan Xichen said, deciding to ignore the way the two of them were still glaring daggers at each other. “I’ve read your works before; they were highly innovative.”

They both looked at him as though he was absolutely crazy, pretending that there hadn’t been a war since the last time one of Wen Qing’s medical texts had been passed around at a discussion conference, but Lan Xichen was determined to ignore the awkwardness until it passed and he smiled that determination right at the two of them until they both gave in.

“You may as well come in for lunch,” she finally said. “We don’t have much, but we’ll share it.”

“We can share our provisions as well,” Lan Xichen said. “Thank you for the invitation…is Wei Wuxian not here? I would have thought he’d have come running with all the noise we’re making.”

“No, he’s down the mountain,” Wen Qing said, rubbing at her nose and turning to lead them further into their camp – there were some tables set out, clearly made by those lacking experience in carpentry. “His shijie’s wedding is coming up soon…he’s trying to find materials for a gift.”

Lan Xichen hummed agreeably, and elbowed Nie Mingjue. His friend scowled further, but obediently picked up the line of polite conversation. Or, his view of it, anyway. “What are you planning on sending?”

Wen Qing stopped and turned to look at him. “What? Me? Why would I send anything? I don’t know her.”

Nie Mingjue looked at her in disbelief. “Your benefactor’s shijie is marrying, and you’re not sending anything? Do you want to be accepted by the cultivation world or not?”

“I don’t think a wedding present is going to be the thing that helps convince the cultivation world that we’re not all blood-sucking demons.”

“Why not?” Nie Mingjue said. “My ancestors were butchers; you think the gentlemen cultivators of the other sect, whether yours or Xichen’s, accepted them as a legitimate sect at the start? The only way to win legitimacy is to force everyone to accept you as you are.”

Wen Qing had an expression on her face that suggested she hadn’t thought of that.

“They call Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriatch,” Lan Xichen said thoughtfully. “A patriarch should have a sect beneath him, shouldn’t he? And it’s the sect leader’s right hand’s duty to send gifts on behalf of the sect, in addition to any personal gifts sent on behalf of the sect leader himself.”

“…even if I wanted to send something on behalf of - of Yiling Wei, or whatever, we don’t have anything.”

Lan Xichen smiled. “Neither did the Cloud Recesses, during the years of war. You’re very fortunate: etiquette covers that precise situation, and suggests you reach out to another sect to borrow something. That helps bind your sects closer together as allies in the future – and before you say you don’t have anyone to ask, you have two Sect Leaders right here.”

Wen Qing appeared dumbstruck. “Would you share?”

Nie Mingjue huffed. “We’re not so poor that we can’t afford to lend out wedding gifts,” he said. “Even to a criminal. If you’re a sect, you’re a sect - this would hardly be the first sect that hosts someone I want to see dead.”

“I’m pretty sure that would be most of them,” Lan Xichen laughed. “I’ve seen you at parties.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Desiderium

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter One

A JSE Fanfic

Hey! Hey! New AU! :D I’m really excited for it! As you can probably tell from the title, this is a fantasy-themed one. Taking place in the kingdom known as Glasúil, where magic and strange creatures are common, a man called Chase lives a simple life in a mountain village with his family. But of course, something just has to happen, and, well...you’ll see next chapter ;) Feel free to ask me anything about this AU, even though it’s still in its early stages I have a lot of ideas that I’m eager to share!

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The forest floor was blanketed in a layer of fallen leaves, red and orange and yellow matching the colors of those still on the tree branches. Bushes and shrubs made the terrain difficult for most people. But a single rabbit hopped across the ground, unhindered by the underbrush and making no sound on the crunchy fallen leaves. It stopped by a small bush, sniffed its leaves, and started to nibble on them.

Thwip! An arrow suddenly appeared next to the rabbit. It had barely landed when the rabbit was already running, darting off quickly. “Wait, no! No!” Someone shouted. A man appeared, shooting to his feet from where he’d been hiding behind a nearby bush. He nocked another arrow and let it loose, but it missed by a mile, landing in the trunk of a nearby tree. The rabbit was already gone.

“Damn it,” Chase cursed, looking down at his arm. That last shot had been sloppy; if he wasn’t wearing his arm guard, the bow string could’ve really hurt him. He tightened the guard straps and went to collect the arrows from where they’d landed. The one that hit the tree had its point chipped a bit. “Damn it,” he said again, whispering this time. If he kept chipping arrows, he’d have to buy more, and they couldn’t afford that right now.

Maybe he’d missed because it was starting to get dark. Chase looked through the branches of the trees towards the sky. He could see the rosy hint of a sunset in the distance. Well, if that wasn’t a sign that it was time to head back, he didn’t know what was. He’d already checked the snares he’d set up yesterday and set up new ones; there was nothing more to do. Disappointed, he turned back and headed east, towards town. Hopefully tomorrow he’d find more in the forest than three squirrels and a rabbit that he failed to shoot.

The trees soon thinned. Chase walked down a familiar slope of land and quickly saw the familiar buildings at the edge of town. Well, it wasn’t really a town. It was too small for that. It was actually a village, but people called it Hilltown, and so naturally it was shortened to just town. People said things like “Hey I’m heading back to town,” or “The millers live on the edge of town.” That might be confusing in a more urban setting, where there were more cities and towns close together, but they lived in the mountains. The village was the only “town” for miles.

Chase slipped in between two buildings and officially entered the village. These buildings were made of wood, and a bit rickety due to being built on sloping ground. When the village was founded, it was first built on a relatively flat area. But as it slowly grew, it had to creep upwards onto the incline that led up to the forest. The way the buildings continued onto the slope was the reason people started calling it Hilltown, though Chase had never been fond of the name.

“Hey! Is that you, Chase?”

“Huh?” Chase stopped, and looked around. He quickly spotted the source of the call: an older man, with a black beard streaked with gray, standing in the doorway of a house. “Hi, Kieran. How’re you doing?”

“Doing fine, boy,” Kieran said good-naturedly. “Come back from hunting so soon?”

“Well it is sunset. Do you expect me to shoot in the dark?” Chase commented, raising an eyebrow.

Kieran chuckled. “So...did you shoot any beaver today?”

“No, Kieran, there are no beavers in the mountains,” Chase sighed. The older man had been living here for three years, and he couldn’t seem to grasp that.

“Ah, if you say so,” Kieran waved away. “If you ever do catch one—”

“—I can bring the pelt to you, I know,” Chase finished. And again, he’d been offering that same proposal for three years.

“That’s the spirit! I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Be seeing you.”

Chase headed onward. As the ground started to level out, the buildings became sturdier, with more made of stone bricks, and grew closer together. The streets weren’t paved, but they were cleared, dusty paths well-trod. A few people were out, though not as many as there would have been earlier in the day. Mostly small kids running around and a few people taking turns getting water at the well in the center of the town. Chase waved at them, and they nodded back. One of them, Terrance the tailor, called out “How’re you doing?” and Chase answered, “Doing fine!”

Shortly after passing by the well, he came across the tallest building in town, and was once again stopped by someone calling his name. “Mister Chase!”

He stopped and turned to face the building: the temple. The couple that ran it were standing outside the doorway. One of them, Mother Aoife, was waving at him. “Hello, Mother. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, well, can I ask you a question?” Mother Aoife said. She gestured at the entrance. “Do you think we’d have room for another holy symbol up there?”

“Uh...” Chase took a step back. The doorway to the temple had two symbols on either side of it, showing that members of either faith could practice inside. To the left was a blue candle, almost as long as a person’s arm, burning and dripping wax. To the right were two interlocking circles the size of someone’s head: one gold-ish with small triangles around the edge, one silver-ish with a line down the center. “I mean...I guess you could put one above the door.”

“No, we can’t do that!” Mother Aoife said. “That would imply that one faith is higher than the others.”

“Right. Then, I’m guessing it would be the same if you put a symbol in the space beneath one of the other two?”

“Exactly.”

“I told you it wouldn’t work.” Pastor Cait frowned. She was the other leader at the temple, and was Mother Aoife’s wife. They’d actually held two ceremonies, one for each of their respective faiths. That day had been one of the most active days Hilltown had seen in the past ten years. “Besides, nobody in town follows the Forger.”

“But it is becoming popular with those down in the flatlands of Glasúil,” Mother Aoife insisted. “What if someone comes to visit and spread the faith?”

“Well, neither of us even know anything about the Forge, anyway,” Pastor Cait pointed out.

“We could always find someone.”

“That runs into the problem of nobody in town following the Forger.”

“Um...is that all you wanted me for?” Chase asked awkwardly.

“Oh no, I just thought I’d ask you first,” Mother Aoife said. “Stacia stopped by. She said to tell you that she was leaving early and would be home when you were done hunting.”

“Really? That’s strange.” Stacia usually worked all day, and with the fall harvest coming up, she’d probably be out on the farms from sunrise to sunset. “Why?”

“She said something about Quentin,” Mother Aoife said, frowning as she tried to remember. “I think he might’ve been getting sick? There was something wrong.”

Chase felt his heart drop, leaving his chest cold. “Why didn’t you start with that?!”

“Well, I—” Mother Aoife’s explanation was wasted. Chase was already running.

It wasn’t too far from here. He sprinted down the street, not bothering to look at any of the people he passed by, heading for the other edge of town. The buildings started to spread out again, small patches of vegetable gardens dotting the rows of low stone houses. He kept running until he reached his own, recognizing the garden of radishes outside and the rough chalk drawings on the stones outside, drawn by children. Without waiting, he threw open the wooden door and rushed inside.

“Dad?” Amabel, his daughter, was sitting on the edge of the rough wooden table, carefully trying to  tie the end of a string into a loop.

“Hi, Amy. Where’s your mother and brother?” Chase asked.

“Bedroom,” Amabel said, pointing at the doorway, blocked off by a hanging length of cloth.

“Thanks.” Chase ruffled her red hair as he walked past, not wasting any time and ducking underneath the cloth. “What happened? Is it bad?!”

Stacia looked up, clearly surprised. “Chase? What do you mean what happened?”

“Mother Aoife, down at the temple, she said that you said something happened with Quentin a-and that you were leaving early because of it,” Chase hurried through the explanation. “Is everything okay?!”

“Did she...well I guess it would sound bad if that’s all she said,” Stacia muttered. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

“Hi Dad!” Quentin was lying in the big double-bed that Chase and Stacia usually shared, propped up against the wooden frame. Their thick winter quilt was wrapped around him, his little face and dark curls being the only thing to poke out of the patchwork cloth.

“He fell in the water trough for Rainer’s sheep when I looked away,” Stacia explained, sighing. “Got pretty wet.”

“There was a goat staring at me!” Quentin said. He didn’t seem any worse for wear.

“It’ll probably be fine, but considering his...constitution, I-I thought it’d be best if I took the rest of the day off to keep an eye on him.” Stacia pulled the blanket up over Quentin’s head, much to his delight.

All the tension immediately drained from Chase’s body. He stumbled against the wall, losing his balance in the flood of relief. “Oh thank the elders,” he breathed.

Stacia stood up. She walked over to the bedroom window—the only one in their cottage to have glass—and made sure it was firmly closed. Then she turned to face Chase. “Did you...did you get back to town early and decide to check on us?”

“No, I just got back, I ran all the way here,” Chase said, catching his breath for the first time.

“Oh.” Stacia glanced at the arrows in his quiver, then at the three squirrels he had slung over his back. “Sorry, I guess I just thought, since you didn’t seem to find that much—”

“It’s fall, Stacy, animals are starting to hibernate,” Chase said, rubbing his eyes.

“Right. I always forget that.” Stacia nodded.

“How are things going at the farm?”

“Alright. Busy. You know, Jane told me that down in the flatlands, where it’s warmer, they grow potatoes through the winter. Which makes sense, but it’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Yea, pretty strange.” Chase stood up straight. “Well, I’m going to go take care of these squirrels.”

“Oh!” Stacia’s eyes widened. “Wait, before you do, do you remember that you’re going to start teaching Amabel shooting on Hunt’s Day?”

“Yes, don’t worry,” Chase assured her. “I already have a great spot marked out.”

Stacia let out a breath. “Good. With everything today, I almost forgot until now.”

“Well, clearly Amabel didn’t forget. I saw her trying to make a bow string in the main room.” Chase smiled. “It looked pretty good, for her first time doing it on her own.”

“Wonderful.” Stacia turned back to Quentin, who was picking at the seams of the quilt. “Now go take care of those squirrels. Are you going to make dinner or should I?”

“Uh. You seem busy, I’ll do it,” Chase offered. “Right after the squirrels.”

It was well into the night by the time everyone was settled down. Quentin was fine, he hadn’t caught a cold, which was a huge relief. He’d been born a bit weaker than other children, and didn’t have as much energy as them. He often fell ill, and it was always a worry to Chase and Stacia. Amabel was heartier, but she was a quiet child. She often wandered about on her own, and was very familiar with the layout of Hilltown and the potato farms on the edge of the village, where many people worked, including Stacia. At ten years old, it was about time for her to start taking up more serious chores, and she’d asked Chase to take her hunting more than once. Of course, she had to learn to shoot first, and luckily for her, he was ready to teach her soon.

They had mutton for dinner, which they’d traded for with Rainer. Chase had managed to shoot down a bird last week, and the farmer had gladly traded a sheep for that. Now they were all sitting, taking the time to rest. Stacia was sitting in the rocking chair, patching up a hole in one of her tunics, while Amabel and Quentin were sitting by the stone fireplace, both of them now under the winter quilt.

“Don’t get too close, kids,” Chase called from his position near the window, where he was drawing their curtains closed. “A spark could fly and catch that fabric on fire.”

“It’s fine,” Amabel said, pulling the blanket closer and wrapping it around her and Quentin’s legs. “Dad, we need new curtains, those are old.”

“I know, Amy,” Chase muttered, glancing at the threadbare fabric. “But we can’t get any right now, so we’re keeping these until they fall apart.”

“Hmm.” Amabel hummed. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can we have a story?”

At that suggestion, Quentin perked up. “A story! Yes!”

Chase’s eyes lit up. “Oh, well, I guess we could have one.”

Stacia looked up. “It’s late. And you need your sleep, Quentin, just in case.”

“It’ll be a short one, then,” Chase said. He walked over and sat down in one of the three rickety wooden chairs by the table. The kids spun around so their backs were to the fireplace and scooted a bit closer, though not out of range for the heat of the fire. “Where do you want your story to be from tonight? Down in the flatlands? Maybe along the coast or in the ocean? Or even in Suilthair, where the king lives?”

“What about...here?” Amabel suggested. “In the mountains?”

“Hmm...” Chase stroked his chin, fingers running along his beard hair. “You know what? I think I could work with that.”

Quentin cheered. Amabel stayed quiet, but she leaned forward, ready to hear. Stacia sighed quietly, continuing to patch, but occasionally glanced upwards, showing she was listening as well.

“Do you know what our mountain range is called in the flatlands? It’s just home to us, but to them, we live in the Dragon’s Teeth.” Chase paused for Quentin to gasp. “It’s called that for two reasons. One, because of how high and pointy they are, looking a bit like teeth. Two, because years and years ago, before people moved up into the mountains, dragons lived here.”

“What?!” Quentin whispered. “Big dragons?! Like in the warrior story?”

“Even bigger! Because up in the mountains they had a ton of space to grow into. They lived in caves, and each dragon had its own mountain.” Chase smiled. “Of course, there aren’t any dragons anymore. At least, not in our kingdom. Who knows? Maybe there are more across the seas. But dragons were very magical, and a whole bunch of other magical creatures gathered around the spaces where they used to live, sucking up all the leftover magic.”

“Do wizards get their magic from dragons?” Amabel asked.

Chase shrugged. “I don’t know. Our family’s not that magical, so I never learned that. Maybe you could find that out one day.”

Amabel nodded, her little eyes determined to answer this question someday.

“But even though there aren’t any dragons anymore, there are a lot of other creatures. You know what I always say to do if something bad happens in town?”

“Run to the forest,” the kids said in unison.

“Exactly.” Chase nodded. “Mom and I will come find you. And if nothing’s happened by the next sunset,  you come back to town on your own.” That last part was added at Stacia’s request, since she was concerned about food and woodland animals. “You know all the rules about avoiding wolves and bears, but...there are magical things in the forest. So I have three more rules for you: if a deer has golden antlers, don’t bother it. If you see a horse out on its own, don’t touch it. And if you hear a woman crying, don’t go after it.”

Quentin nodded, but Amabel tilted her head to the side. “Why? And that last one, what if it’s Mom?”

“Well, you could recognize Mom’s voice,” Chase said. “I mean if it sounds like a strange woman. Because that might not be a woman at all. That could be a banshee. They won’t mean you any harm on their own, but if they see you, they’ll try to tell you about coming tragedies. Sounds like a good warning, right? Except that hearing this warning makes the tragedy more likely to happen. So you should stay away. One time, while I was out hunting about, um...ten years ago, before you were born. I was out with Micheal down the bend, we heard someone crying. I decided to walk away, but Micheal chased after it, and when he came back he said he found a banshee. And the next morning, very suddenly, his mother died.”

“Oh no,” Quentin breathed. “What about the other two?”

“A deer with golden antlers probably isn’t a deer at all. It could be the Elder Horned One in disguise. If you disturb him, you could find yourself whisked away to join his hunters. And a horse out on its own definitely isn’t a horse at all. It’s actually a kelpie. And if you touch a kelpie, you’ll get stuck to it. It’ll run into the nearest water and drag you under, and you won’t be able to let go.”

“Alright, I think that’s enough for the night,” Stacia said, standing up. “Amabel, Quentin, you’re all washed up?”

“Yes, Mom,” they said in unison. 

“Good. Off to bed with you.” Stacia hurried the kids over to the corner, where the small bed the two of them shared was tucked against the wall. “We’ll be seeing you in the morning,” she said, pulling back the blankets and tucking them in once the kids were under.

Chase wandered over. “Good night, Quen. Good night, Amy.” He gave them each a kiss on the forehead.

“Good night Dad,” Amabel said. Quentin was already yawning, face buried in the pillow. “Good night Mom.”

“Good night,” Stacia said, giving her and Quentin a kiss as well.

With that, the two adults retreated to the separate bedroom, quickly getting ready for bed. “You ended that story abruptly,” Chase commented.

“Well you did say they were going to get drowned by a kelpie,” Stacia pointed out.

“No, I said that they wouldn’t be if they didn’t touch it. It was a cautionary tale.”

“Still, not the best to hear at night.” Stacia ran a comb through her hair. “And also, I don’t think we should tell them to go into the forest anymore. Not without an adult there.”

“Really?” Chase frowned. “Why?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Oh, come on, Stacy. I know it is, but you can’t tell me you didn’t run around the forest when you were their age. I know I did, and I walked out. Michael did. Terrance did. Wendy and Emilia did.”

“Things are different now,” Stacia said slowly. She shifted uneasily on her feet, then glanced out the window, as if making sure nobody was outside. “Look, you know Rose, Aodhan’s wife?”

“No, but I definitely know Aodhan, he runs the potato farms.”

“Well, Rose is married to him. The past week, she’s been working with us for the harvest, and...she says there are...new things in the forest.”

Chase paused. He’d been about to blow out the candle in the sconce by the door, but something about the way Stacia said that made him pause. “Like...what?”

“Townsfolk have been seeing the figures of...people,” Stacia whispered. “But not your regular, everyday people. These ones carry weapons, a-and they wear...masks. Masks shaped like animal faces. They move quickly and silently, and some think that they’re spirits of some kind.”

“I’ve...never heard of spirits wearing animal masks,” Chase said in a low voice.

“Neither have I. But here’s the thing: Rose doesn’t believe those rumors.” Stacia paused. “Did you know there’s trouble down in the flatlands? People are...unhappy. With how the king is running things.”

“What? That’s strange,” Chase muttered. “I remember hearing that he’s the best king Glasúil ever had.” Though now that he was thinking about it, it had been a while since he’d heard something like that.

“Well, it’s trouble either way to have people thinking that about a king,” Stacia said firmly. “And Rose thinks that these spirits in masks are just people running around the forest, hiding out, being rebels. And that’s dangerous, Chase. Animals and magic behave by certain rules you can expect, but people...you just don’t know with them.”

“I guess you’re right,” Chase muttered. He paused, then blew out the candle and headed back towards bed. “Well, I haven’t seen any of these masked spirits. And I’m in the forest every day. So it’s probably nothing to worry about yet.”

“That forest is big, Chase,” Stacia said, clearly worried despite his reassurance. “You’ve probably only explored a tiny part of it, and the same goes for anyone else in town.”

That was true. Even in his farthest hunting trips, he’d only gone far enough to find his way back to Hilltown relatively quickly. “I still say it’ll be fine,” he reiterated. “I don’t see why any rebels would bother us, even if they were out there.” He climbed into bed. “If I see something weird when I’m out tomorrow, I’ll reconsider it. Besides, it’s not good to think about things like this before bed, as you pointed out to the kids.”

Stacia sighed, and got into bed as well, pulling the blankets up. “I just...don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Chase nodded. “I don’t either,” he agreed softly. Then he took a deep breath. “Good night, Stacy.”

“Good night, Chase.” Stacia leaned over and blew out the candle on the bedside table, leaving the room dark except for the moonlight coming through the window. 

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The next morning went the same as every other morning. The family had breakfast, either Stacia or Chase went out to manage the garden while the other took care of the kids—today it was Chase for the former and Stacia for the latter, though they switched every other day—then Stacia got ready to go to the farms and Chase got ready to go hunting. As always, the kids went with Stacia, wandering around within eyesight and earshot of her while she worked. Though Chase could tell Amabel was eager to start going into the more dangerous forest with her dad, judging by the way she kept looking at her miniature bow, still unstrung. He ruffled her hair and reminded her that Hunt’s Day was just two days away, then headed off, waving goodbye to Stacia and the kids.

Passing through town was the same as ever as well. Some people were lined up at the well, as they always seemed to be. It looked as though the temple was unchanged, so clearly Mother Aoife and Pastor Cait had resolved their issue. Kieran waved goodbye as Chase walked past, and reminded him to look for beavers to shoot. 

And from there...the day was largely uneventful. Which was not good. Hunting was always a lot of waiting and wandering and being quiet, occasionally interrupted by action as you aimed and shot at an animal. But in the fall like this, that last bit of action was becoming rarer. And it didn’t help that it was really starting to get cold. Chase could see his breath in the air in front of him, and he kept pulling his felt hat down over his head. It was old, and almost nobody else in town had one like it, but he kept it because it had a handy brim for blocking the sun. It was also good for cold days like these, when he hadn’t grabbed his jacket because he mistakenly believed it would be as warm today as it was yesterday.

The sun passed overhead. Chase stopped around midday to have a lunch of bread and jerky, then moved on. He stopped by his usual snares, but found that nothing had stumbled into them. Not even a few squirrels like the day before. Growing frustrated, and more than a little desperate, he wandered farther into the forest, but still found nothing. This was bad. Sure, they had a stockpile of preserved meat and jerky from his hunts during the summer, but that would run out eventually. And what if Quentin got sick, and needed something more hearty than dried, stringy meat? What would they do then?

It was starting to get late when he saw it. Just a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Chase stiffened, and slowly turned. There, right in between two trees, fully in view of him...was a deer. Its coat was dark brown, almost black, and it was grazing peacefully, not paying him the least bit of attention. It had been a few weeks since he’d seen a deer. That was a bit unusual, really. But it didn’t matter anymore. There was one here now. Slowly, he drew his bow.

The deer raised its head and started to walk away. Carefully, Chase followed it. He stepped carefully, making sure there were no twigs or crunchy fallen leaves before putting his foot down. After a while, the deer stopped again, grazing for a bit. Chase made sure he was in a good position, then raised his bow and reached towards the quiver on his hip. Then the deer started walking away again.

Chase followed it, for longer than he probably should have. The shadows grew more slanted, then started to take over, but he kept following the deer. Every time he got into a good position to shoot and started to grab an arrow, it moved on. After a while, it felt like a game. A game of...chase. He almost laughed when the thought occurred to him, but stopped just in time to catch the sound.

It was well into dusk when the deer wandered into a small circular clearing. Chase stopped, still hidden by the trees, and gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering. Once the sun went behind the mountains in autumn, the temperature dropped rapidly. But it wouldn’t be long now. He had to get this deer. They needed it. And now it was just standing there, ears twitching. Chase raised the bow again, and this time when he reached for an arrow, he pulled it out and slowly nocked it, steadying his stance to take aim.

But then...no, something was different. The deer’s antlers...had they gotten bigger? More...curvy? Chase paused, puzzled. Then he took a closer look.

The antlers were...glinting. He was sure they were ordinary bone before, but now they looked almost...golden.

Gasping, Chase instantly let go of his bow and arrow. They landed in the undergrowth with soft thumps.

The deer’s ears stopped twitching. But instead of running away, it turned around. And it looked at him. And there was something different about its dark, dark eyes. Different from other deer eyes, from other animal eyes, that Chase had seen before.

He slowly raised his hands. “I—I didn’t kn—”

The deer looked away from him, turnin to the side, staring off into the distance. Then it broke into a run in the opposite direction, hooves making no sound on the forest floor.

For a long, long while, Chase just stood there, shivering, breath pluming in the air. Had that...really happened? Or had he just imagined it because he’d been out in the cold for so long? After some time, he bent over and picked up his bow and the arrow he’d dropped, putting them away. Well, it was also dark. He could’ve been just...seeing things in the moonlight. And speaking of moonlight, he should really be heading home by now. He was late. Now...which way was it?

He’d wandered a long way following that deer. It was dark and he wasn’t as familiar with this part of the forest as he was with areas closer to home. So by the time he found his way back, it was definitely night, no longer twilight. Stacia and the kids must be so worried. Chase picked up the pace.

Wait...if it was night, then why was there an orange glow in the distance? It was well past sunset. Chase squinted, and in a split second, he realized a few things: First, the glow was coming from the direction of Hilltown. Second, even if it was sunset, the forest was west of town, and therefore the town wouldn’t be between him and the sunset. Third, he was getting closer to the glow. Closer in a way that just didn’t happen with a setting sun. His heart froze. And he burst into a flat run, easily clearing the edge of the forest.

The village was on fire.

Chase just stood and gaped for a moment, feeling the heat from here. The wooden buildings that ran up the sloping ground were all ablaze. He could see dark shapes in the streets, and the figures of people running around, with—horses? A lot of horses. There were only about four in the whole town, and this was definitely more than that.

Snapping out of the daze, he ran, but in his haste, lost footing on the uneven ground and fell, tumbling head over heels for a bit before he managed to stop himself. “Ow...” he groaned, lifting himself up and coming face to face with the flames. Quickly, he threw himself backwards, scrambling to a safe distance.

Now that he was closer, he could definitely make out what was happening. The dark shapes on the ground between the burning buildings...were bodies. He couldn’t recognize anyone, but then again, he couldn’t bring himself to look for any longer than necessary. And there were strangers wandering around. Some on foot, some on horses, but all wearing chain mail armor underneath dark tunics. Chase stared at them, wide-eyed. The strangers were shouting. To each other? To their horses? To anyone left? It was hard to tell.

But they hadn’t noticed Chase. Quickly getting to his feet, he started running around the edge of town. He had to get home! At this time of night, Stacia would be there, Quentin and Amabel would be there—were they okay?! They had to be okay! He didn’t know what he would do if—He wouldn’t forgive himself if he was away and missed being able to help them.

Going around town was a lot slower than going through it, but everything—everything—was on fire. Even the stone buildings! How was that possible?! If the stone buildings were on fire, their cottage could—he pushed himself to run faster.

He couldn’t avoid it anymore. He had to run into the town to get home. But the smoke—even from here, his eyes were watering. So he took his hat off and pressed it to his face, filtering it before he could breathe it in. And he plunged into the raging flames. Even staying in the center of the path, the heat was almost unbearable. But Stacia—Quentin, Amabel—

The cottage. Their home. It was also on fire. The old curtains were ash, the vegetable garden was a raging inferno. “Stacia!” Chase shouted. “Stacy! Quentin! Amabel! Stacy! Quen! Amy! Where are you?!”

Voices. Chase turned and saw some of those strangers nearby, one on a horse. And...he hadn’t noticed this before, but there was a symbol on the back of their dark tunics. A shield, black and blue striped, with a green circle in the center, a black dot in the center of that. The symbol was—it was—the symbol for their kingdom, the kingdom of Glasúil. Chase had never seen it in person, but everyone grew up learning of that insignia. And they also learned that, while local militia may wear a simplified green ring on their clothes, only soldiers working directly for the royal family were allowed to wear the full crest.

Chase recalled this fact dimly, but it didn’t really register. One of the strangers—the soldiers—started to turn around. And gasping, coughing a bit, Chase turned and ran right back out of town, never stopping until he was well clear of the last few houses, out onto the potato fields. In the distance, he saw the house of Aodhan and Rose, the farm owners. It was also on fire.

What was he supposed to do now?! Stacia, and the kids...were they...? No, no they couldn’t be.

The forest.

He’d told the kids to run into the forest if there was ever any danger in town. And sure, Stacia was concerned about rebels in the woods and those strange masked figures, but in the face of this? Maybe she would do the same. Well...it was all he could think of. The only straw he could grasp. Stumbling, Chase turned around and ran back the way he came.

The trees enveloped him in a strange sense of calm, a world removed from the blazing horrors of the burning town. He stumbled for a moment, tripping over some brush, then ran faster. “Stacia! Quentin! Amabel!” he yelled. Even with the distant light from the flaming ruins of the village, the trees above blocked out most of the light, leaving him in shadows. His eyes darted about for any movement. “Where are you?! Can you hear me?”

Abandoning all his hunter’s instincts telling him to stay quiet, he ran through the woods, staggering over brush and rocks that he couldn’t see in the darkness. “Can you hear me?! Answer me! Stacy! Quen! Amy!” Chase’s cries pierced through the silence. There was no sign of them. Maybe they’d gone farther. Thinking that, he plunged deeper into the trees.

Things quickly became unfamiliar. Whether it was because of the distance or because of the darkness, he couldn’t say. But the strangeness only spurred him on. What if his family was lost out here? Alone in the woods? He’d taught the kids something about foraging for food, but not enough, not in this situation. And Stacia was a farmer, not a hunter or a forester. He had to find them. He had to—

Chase noticed the lack of ground beneath his foot a split second after stepping forward. Then he fell. Luckily, it wasn’t off a cliff, but he did land with a loud splash! as he fell into some shallow water. Pebbles and rocks bit into this arms as he extended them out to brace for impact. He sat up, spluttering, now completely soaked. What was this, a stream? A pond? He couldn’t quite see in the dark, but he did know one thing: there were no streams or ponds near the town, and certainly not in the parts of the forest he knew.

Securing his hat, he stood up. His bow and quiver knocked against his side, and he then realized that the fall had caused most of his arrows to fall out. Well...that wouldn’t be good in the future. But he couldn’t see where they’d fallen into the water, and there was no time. He pressed onward.

The trees were close together, heavy branches blocking out the sun. Chase kept his arms out in front of him, to make sure he didn’t run into a trunk. If he couldn’t even see the trees, he definitely wouldn’t be able to see a person. And they wouldn’t be able to see him. “Stacia! Kids! A-are you out h-here?” He gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering. It was cold before, and now it was later, and he was wet, making it positively freezing. “Stacy! K-kids! Are you here?!” But he kept going.

The rush of emotion was starting to fade. He was getting tired. Maybe if he took a rest...no! No, what could be happening to them while he rested?! And besides, he’d be easy prey for any predators out here if he slept. He staggered forward. The forest was practically pitch black, but he kept shouting, his voice growing hoarse, and hoping to hear a reply. 

The underbrush must be thicker here, because he kept tripping up. He fell down twice, but pulled himself to his feet and went onward. His hands were shaking...shivering. “S...Sta-asha. Quen...Quentnn…Ammbel,” he mumbled. It was hard to keep his eyes open. Where was he? Shouldn’t he...shouldn’t he have found some town by now? No, the forest went on for...for acres. He knew this. How could he forget...“Plea...pl’se...say y’r here...I...wher...?”

He couldn’t...couldn’t stop now. He needed to find them. Couldn’t...leave them. On their own. He kept pressing onward. It was getting so hard...he had to use the trees for support sometimes. Stop to take a break. But not to give up. “Can’...give up...St-stace...Quen...Am...ple-please...”

And once again, he stepped somewhere without support. But now he couldn’t even register it. He just knew he was falling, rolling down, down a hill. Coming to a stop when he hit...something. A tree? Those felt like...roots, beneath him. His arm moved a bit, trying to grab something to pull himself up. Fingers drifted across a bark-covered surface, but couldn’t...couldn’t grab. So his arm fell back down. Maybe...he should rest for just a few minutes.

But after just a few seconds of staying still, he heard a strange rustling sound. Raising his head weakly, he saw...a strange sight indeed. People. No, not quite people. Human bodies, dressed in dark clothes...but with white-feathered bird faces where heads should be. Four or five of them...Wait. No, not bird heads. Bird masks. Masks made out of some sort of white material. Hadn’t...hadn’t he heard something about masks recently?

The masked figures drew closer. Chase stared up at them. He was so...so tired. He wouldn’t be able to run even if the thought had managed to...to get through. 

One of them knelt down next to him, pulling off a glove. They pressed a pair of fingers to his neck, and he shivered. He wasn’t cold anymore. Or he was, but this bird person’s hands were colder.

They stood up again, and turned to the others. He heard the sound of voices, but his head couldn’t process the words. What were they...were they hear to...help? Or...?

He was too tired to think about it. He let his head fall back to the forest floor.

The last thing Chase felt before losing consciousness was the sudden lift of someone picking him up.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 2. The Contest.

Summary: Life at SHIELD isn’t always missions and seriousness, as a good natured shooting contest between Katie and Clint shows. The questions is, as the two dead-shots face off, who will be the winner? Steve has utter faith in his best friend, so much so he’s willing to bet money on her. But is this just another ten bucks he’s gonna lose?

Either way, both are left contemplating their feelings towards one another and fast come to the realisation that they run deeper than they want to admit

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language!!

A/N: A huge thank you to @angrybirdcr​ for her lovely little edit below of Katie and Clint. She’s kingly agreed to pull a few edits together for me in honour of my relaunch so keep your eyes peeled…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

 Katie had no idea why she’d agreed to any of this. Actually, that was a lie, she knew exactly why she’d agreed to this, it was all down to Evans who had decided that STRIKE were long overdue a competition of sorts and had organised a shooting-slash-obstacle course tournament. Eight members had entered, going into random draws and competing against one another over the past week. Out of those eight, two now remained. Her and Clint.

A shooting contest between two Avengers was always going to draw big attention, so it was hardly surprising, therefore, that the SHIELD agents were running a book. Clint was odds on favourite to win, but Steve had so far refused to take part, that is until ten minutes or so before the contest was supposed to start. He was stood outside the shooting range, eyes focussed on Katie and Clint as they both stood checking their equipment, a crowd steadily gathering behind him.

“I know she’s good, but she really doesn’t stand a chance.” Natasha drawled as she stood at his side. Her matter-of-fact tone caused something in his chest to stir, the lack of faith everyone bar Evans and Lawson from the lab seemed to be displaying in Katie over Clint riled him and he turned to Natasha, a smirk flickering over his face as he repeated the words Katie had said to him the first night they’d met.

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.” He stuck his hand out.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, before shaking his hand “Alright Rogers, you’re on.”

His hands returned to his belt buckle and both Katie and Clint signalled they were ready.

Evans went into the room, it was soundproof unless you pushed the button to listen in, which Rumlow did, of course.

“Okay you both no the rules but I’m gonna repeat ‘em just in case. No pushing or shoving of your opponent because that’s just a shitty thing to do.” Evans said, his Texan drawl loud as his hand scratched at his ginger beard. “Perfect kill shots are an extra half-point. Twenty minute time limit is in force. If you’re tied on score then we’ll go to the number of kill shots made.” Evans looked at them and they both nodded, Katie licking her lips. “Now. To your starting lines. You may go when the barriers open.” Evans nodded and held his right hand up, three fingers extended “May the odds be ever in your favour…”

Steve had no idea what that was a reference too, but he heard the rest of the people around him snigger. Katie threw her head back in a laugh as Clint mimicked Evan’s hand gesture as the other Sniper left the room.

The two opponents both looked out over the room from their starting positions at the obstacles which were constructed out of crates and various other objects. Katie cracked her neck side to side as Clint raised his pistol again, looking down the barrel before he turned his head to meet Katie’s gaze. She put her gun back into its thigh holster and turned to her old SO.

“May the best woman win.” she smirked, as she felt the blood pounding in her ears. Then, with a loud klaxon, the barriers opened in front of them and they both shot forward.

It might have been a friendly competition, but Katie wasn’t someone who liked losing so she was playing to win, and that was obvious from the determination written all over her face. Steve felt a surge of pride as he watched her leaping from obstacle to obstacle, landing shot after shot. After she hit her fourth target head easily and ahead of Clint, Steve heard Natasha hiss through her teeth.

“Ok, so maybe she has a little chance…”

He didn’t reply, simply watched, silently willing her on.

As the minutes ticked on, the two continued, both making leaps, dropping into rolls, and ducking behind corners. Katie took another shot, and paused for a split second, if she was counting correctly there were two more to go and five minutes left on the clock. She looked up for her next target and saw Clint was blocking her way, knelt down, aiming at his own. Katie knew the sensible thing to do would be to wait, but then she was a Stark, being sensible wasn’t one of her main attributes. With a smirk she re-holstered her gun and sprinted as fast as she could, launching herself forward into a perfect front flip, catapulting right over the top of Clint before she immediately slid onto a knee and brought the handgun back up, aiming at the target.

Outside the room there was a lot of cheering and cat calls at her display of acrobatics.

Katie moved to her final target, back against a large crate, aimed but then missed and Steve closed his eyes- that would cost her.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, doubling over to catch her breath as at that point the klaxon sounded again to say they were out of time. She stood up, cocking the safety on her pistol before stowing it away as Clint walked over to her, pulling her into a hug.

“Sharp shooting, Nova!” He grinned, ruffling at her hair. Both of them turned as the doors open and a few agents walked in, back slapping them both as Evans collected the targets and went to tally up the points.

“That was impressive!” Steve smiled as he crossed the room. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, not bad Stark.” Nat added, appraisingly

“Thanks.” Katie nodded, taking a drink of the bottle of water Clint handed to her. She was red faced, sweating but absolutely thrilled, pumped full of adrenaline. She placed her hands on her hips and took a deep breath

“And we have the results!” Evans said and Clint threw his arm round Katie as hers slid round his waist. “Stark you missed one giving you nine and three kill shots, taking you to ten point five.” Cheers rang around at the pretty damned good score and Katie grinned as Evans waited until the applause died down before he continued. “However, Barton hit each target, giving him ten plus four kill shots, taking him to twelve over all meaning he is the winner of this year’s STRIKE Shoot Off!”

“Damned it!” Katie groaned, shaking Clint’s hand as various cheers and complaints went up and people started to cash in their bets.

“You’re fired.” Steve heard a familiar voice say. Spinning round, he saw Fury handing over a fifty to an agent whose name escaped him and Steve bit back a smile. The Director had bet on Katie. That one mistake had been costly.

“Cough up Rogers.” Nat held out her hand and he turned to her, sighing and fished in his pocket for a note, handing it to her.

“You bet on me?” Katie looked at him, surprised.

“Course I did, Doll.” he said immediately.

 “Yeah I didn’t, sorry Stark.” Nat took the ten-note off him “Clint’s never lost a challenge yet.”

“He nearly did.” Steve looked at Katie proudly before he glanced back at Natasha. “Was worth the bet to see you get so twitchy Romanoff.”

“Seriously?”  Clint turned to Natasha. “You got twitchy?”

“I’ll admit at one point I thought Stark might have just shaded it.” Nat narrowed her eyes at Steve who simply shrugged, hands dropping to the front of his belt buckle.

“To be fair, there was one point where I thought that too.” Clint smiled, and Katie felt a surge of pride in her chest as he pulled the magazine out of his pistol. “Did good Nova, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Clint.” she smiled at him.

“So, who fancies a drink?” Barton looked around, clapping his hands together.

“I’m game.” Katie nodded as she stripped down her weapon.

Natasha hummed in agreement and then Steve realised they were all looking at him. He hesitated, he really did need to train as he hadn’t had a decent run that morning and he’d be restless all evening otherwise, but after that…why not?

"I gotta work out first but if you tell me where you’re going I’ll join you when I’m done.”

“Take a day off!” Nat drawled, examining her nails. Steve was about to reply but Katie got there first.

“If he doesn’t work out he’s a right crank! And no one likes a Cranky Cap.”

“You know what Stark?” Steve started but she simply stuck her tongue out at him causing him to roll his eyes, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

“Why don’t we try the new sports bar on the high-street, what’s it called again?” Clint suggested.

“Home Run?” Nat asked.

“Yeah that’s it.” he nodded “Couple of doors down from the Burger joint.”

“I’ll find it.” Steve said as Clint nodded, making for the door, Natasha following.  Katie turned to Steve, smiling at him as he surveyed the room.

"You did a good job,” he nodded to the obstacle course “Did it take you back to fighting Aliens?”

“Not quite the same, you know? No returning gunfire… no life-or-death stakes… no Captain America cushioning my fall when we got blown out of a bank window,” she teased. He laughed, as she started to back up towards the door. “I won’t take up your workout time. See you at the bar?”

“You never take up my time, Honey.” He smiled back, honestly, before he felt the flush rise up his neck. What a dumbass thing to say. “See you later.” He nodded.

With that she took her leave, tugging her hair out the ponytail as she left, allowing the gentle waves to cascade down her back.

********

Half an hour or so later, after Katie had showered and changed, the three Avengers were making the twenty minute or so walk to the bar downtown.

“You know I still can’t believe I got to within a point and a half of you.” Katie nudged Clint.

“Me neither actually.” Natasha mused. “I thought it was gonna be a whitewash.”

“Nice to know you have so much faith in me, Widow.” Katie scoffed and Nat snorted.

“Tell you who did have faith, other than Rogers… Fury.” She looked at Katie who grinned from ear to ear.

“Hang on…the boss bet against me?” Clint stopped. With a heavy sigh he shook his head. “Damned, that hurts.”

“Don’t take it personally.” Katie shrugged as they reached the bar. With a loud snort, Clint opened the door to let the girls step in first and then he joined them, looking around at the new surroundings. It was low lit but piled with sports memorabilia held in various glass cases around the room and on the walls. They took the time to look at most of it on their way to the bar where Clint bought the first round. Drinks in hand, they headed to a plush, leather seated booth and settled down.

The three friends fell into an easy chat, and then the inevitable teasing about Rumlow fancying Katie started up and she groaned. Clint and Nat enjoyed ribbing her about him and she had to admit, he wasn’t subtle to be fair. He’d asked her out three times now and she’d politely declined but it didn’t stop her friends from enjoying teasing her about it. Clint and Nat took turns in trying to highlight Rumlow’s more endearing qualities. They managed a sum total of three when Clint leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s all I got. I’m out.” He grinned as Katie laughed, raising her glass to her mouth to drain the last of her beer.

“Yeah, he’s not relationship materiel.” Nat shrugged

“But you could just fuck him, get what you need and kick him out before breakfast.” Clint suggested causing Katie to choke down her mouthful of European lager and pick up the beer mat nearest her.

Steve chose that exact moment to walk into the bar. He watched as the beer mat hit Clint straight between the eyes, and Katie threw her head back in pure, unadulterated laughter. Something in the Captain’s chest stirred as he watched her, that wonderful smile and laugh filling her face.

“Hey.” He greeted them as they all looked up. “You guys need another drink?”

“Cheers Cap, three beers.” Clint motioned round the table and Steve headed off to the bar. Katie watched him go, eye trained on his ass which looked remarkably fine in those dark denims, then, realising what she was doing and who she was with, she let out silent groan as she turned back to see Clint and Nat exchanging a glance, a glance between two people who had just discovered the best secret ever.

“What?” she shrugged, trying to keep her face as straight as possible. “Girl can look, right?”

“Nova, you ain’t just looking, you’re practically drooling.” Clint grinned. “You soft on Cap?”

“No, I just happen to…” She hesitated as she stumbled for the words “…appreciate what my father had a hand in producing, that’s all.”

“Bullshit!” Natasha snorted as Clint roared with laughter. “You’re hot for Rogers.”

“No, I’m…”

“You know, considering you’re a secret agent your poker face is really shit!” Clint pointed at her

“Oh fuck off, the both of you.” She spluttered and the pair of them continued to chuckle, exchanging looks in that infuriating way they did, until Steve returned, setting down the four pints which he easily held in his hands and slid into the spare seat next to Katie.

Thankfully, Natasha and Clint decided to leave their teasing alone and the four of them struck up a conversation talking about everything and anything. A few more pints were drunk and when it came back to Clint’s turn to buy he came back from the bar, a wicked grin on his face.

“Oh, no I know that look!” Katie pointed at him and Clint shrugged, placing her pint down in front of her before he sat down.

“Yeah, she’s right.” Natasha eyed him. “What you up to?”

“I’m just in the mood for another challenge.” Clint leaned forward, his eyebrows raising up and down as he spoke.

“Like what?” Katie folded her arms

“Which one of you…” he said, waving his finger between her and Nat, “…can down a pint fastest?”

“Is that really wise?” Steve asked and Katie smirked.

“Not for Nat, no.”

The red head quirked an eyebrow, “I’m game if you are.”

Katie shrugged as Clint chuckled and pounded his hand on the table. “Alright then, Ladies! On your marks…”

As soon as Clint had done counting down Katie raised the glass to her mouth and chugged, draining it in four seconds flat before turning it upside down on top of her head. Natasha wasn’t even half way through hers before she groaned and set it down, trying to supress a burp.

Steve couldn’t help but look at Katie, his mouth falling open.

"What?” she laughed, shrugging as the Captain exchanged a look with Clint. “I spent three years at University, drinking with boys.”

“Yeah well I’ll stick to Vodka.” Nat shook her head “Fancy that as a challenge?”

“Not a chance.” Katie scoffed, “Although Cap could.”

“He could, but he won’t” Steve sternly shot her a look “Because it wouldn’t be fair.”

Katie rolled her eyes pouting.

“You do know I’m Russian, right. Well, I was.” Nat leaned back on the bench. “I was practically weaned on the stuff.”

“Yes, I know that, but I can’t get drunk.” Steve shrugged. “My metabolism burns it off too fast.”

“Cap,” Clint sighed, shaking his head, “that might just be the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

“Even sadder than when you heard you were shipping off to guard Thor’s hammer?” Nat asked. Clint considered her point for a moment, and shrugged.

“Hmmmm. Maybe the same level of sadness at learning I was about to head to Butt-fuck America for an undefined amount of time, yes.”

Steve choked into his beer. Besides him Katie laughed and as Steve looked at Clint, the archer snorted and shook his head.

“Cap. I’m serious. It was legit in the middle of the fucking desert. Nothing for miles.”

“Hey, what happened to that one eyed puppy we found?” Katie asked suddenly.

“Err, I took him to some friends.” Clint answered after a slight pause. “Their kids love him, he’s living the best life.”

Katie and Natasha shared a smile, both understood friends to mean his family and his own kids.

“Still eating Pizza?” Katie asked.

“Pizza?” Steve asked, frowning. “Who feeds a dog pizza?”

“Well he was a bit like you in that respect. Do anything for a double pepperoni with extra cheese.” Katie nudged him with her elbow

“As long as its New York style.” Steve drained his glass, matter of factly.

“Admit it, you enjoyed it when it took you to Second City” Katie eyed him.

“You been to Seconds?” Clint asked. “Thought you swore you wouldn’t go back after that waiter said he wanted to give you a real slice of Chicago to talk about?”

“He did not!” Natasha giggled.

Katie groaned “He did.”

“Now, I wish I’d seen that.”  Nat grinned as Clint let out a loud snort.

“She went full Supernova in three seconds flat. Dragged him over the counter and everything.”

“You didn’t?” Steve glanced at her, although he knew the answer from the look on her face as she groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Look… we had just got back from a week’s stake out in Saudi Arabia…” she sighed, shrugging as Clint and Natasha laughed “I was tired and fending off the advances of some greasy, 40 something year old man politely really wasn’t top of my list.”

“Why not? You do it every day to Rumlow” Nat smirked.

At the mention of his name Steve felt his eyes narrow. He hated the way the STRIKE leader blatantly eyed Katie up at every given chance. It was disrespectful.

“Don’t start that again” Katie rolled her eyes.

“He’s not a bad looking guy.” Nat persisted. “You could do worse.”

“You like him so much you fuck him!” Katie’s voice was snappy. Romanoff leaned back in her chair, eyeing her over half full glass, smirking.

“Touched a nerve, Stark?”

“No, you’re just talking crap, as usual.” she shot back, standing up. “My round.”

Steve moved so that she could get out from the booth and watched her head to the bar.

“Think we need to lay off the whole Rumlow thing.” Clint snorted, turning Nat. “She’s clearly not interested.”

“She’s obviously looking for someone a little less…” Nat pondered and Clint cut in.

“Of an ass hat?”

Steve snorted and Natasha shrugged.

“I was gonna say a little more of a gentleman but…if the cap fits…” Her eyes flashed to Steve and he looked at her, his eyebrows pulling together as he felt the heat flushing to his neck. She simply shrugged, in her usual nonchalant way before she changed the subject.

****

A few hours later Clint and Nat decided they’d had enough and left to grab a taxi. When Clint was in town he always stayed with Nat, prompting Steve to wonder if there was anything going on beyond the platonic friendship. He pondered it for a moment, deciding to just ask the question.

 “Is there something between them?” he nodded to the pair as they left.

“No.” Katie shook her head “Absolutely not.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but don’t be pissed I haven’t told you before…” she said, pausing “Clint…he’s married, has two kids.”

“What?” Steve choked on his beer.

“They have a place, somewhere, I don’t know exactly but it’s off SHIELD’s books and no one knows bar me, Nat and Fury.”

“Huh.” Steve pondered the information for a moment and Katie took a deep breath.

“Look, sorry I didn’t tell you but…”

“It’s okay.” Steve smiled. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little bit disappointed she hadn’t told him before, but he understood, she was loyal to a fault. “I get it, he’s your friend.”

“Yeah I know but he’s not my best friend.” she batted her eyelids at him.

“Hmmm, stop buttering me up.”

“Has it worked?”

“Yes.” He deadpanned, draining his glass and she grinned “Same again?”

They had a couple more before Katie decided she was one pint away from being drunk and Steve found himself a little bit disappointed she wanted to leave. He was enjoying spending the time with her. It felt different to their usual trips out, she’d been more relaxed than he had seen her in a long time, enjoying the gentle touches she made to his arm and leg when she was teasing him.

His mind flicked back to Natasha’s little comment before and he found himself wondering if the red head knew something he didn’t. Was there something there on Katie’s part too? As he studied her for a moment as she pulled on her jacket, talking to him, he shook himself out of it. No, why would someone like her look twice at someone like him.

He managed to tune back into what she was saying, telling her no way was he giving her a lift home on the back of his bike without a helmet, causing her to pout and bat her lashes at him in an outrageously over the top manner causing him to snort.

“That ain’t gonna work either.” He shook his head and she shrugged.

“Worth a shot.” She chuckled as they made their way to the door. “And speaking of shots, you really shouldn’t have told Nat you can’t get drunk and whooped her ass at a vodka necking contest.” Her arm linked into his as they walked, and she leaned into him a little, her head laying against his upper bicep.

“Now that would have been dishonest. “Steve smirked. “Surely you’re not saying I should use my enhancement to my advantage in such a situation?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” she nodded.

Steve laughed, sticking his arm out to hail a cab for her.

“But then you’re a very honest kinda guy.”

“I have my moments.” He turned to face her

“Moments? Nah ah, you can’t lie for shit!” she grinned at him.

“No, I can’t lie to you for shit, Sweetheart” He rolled his eyes “You know me too well.”

“Hmmm, true.” she nodded in agreement as the car stopped at the curb and Steve opened the door for her.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Steve asked, not particularly happy she was cabbing back alone, it was times like this he wished he had a car. “I can walk back for my bike.”

“I can handle myself, I’m a trained killer remember?” she raised her hands and made gun signs at him with her fingers. He shook his head, smiling.

“You’re an idiot.” He snorted a laugh.

“But you love me!” She grinned, standing on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. “G’night, Soldier.”

“Call me when you’re home.” He instructed “And if I ain’t heard from you in twenty…” he raised his voice so the cab driver could hear.

She shook her head, smiling as she climbed into the taxi and waved as it pulled off.

It wasn’t long before she was home and once she made her way into her bedroom, Katie kicked off her boots, flopped down onto her bed and pulled out her phone, better do as Captain Badass instructed or knowing him he’d turn up and kick the door in.

“So I’m home Old timer…” she said, when he answered and from his sigh she knew he would be rolling his eyes.

“Less of the old” he retorted, the clinking of cutlery and plates rattling in the background.

“What you doing?” she asked.

“Making food.”

“You can’t cook.”

“Yes I can.”

“So why have you never cooked for me?” she asked indignantly, feeling somewhat annoyed that she always did the cooking for the two of them.

“Because you’re better at it.” He replied, simply. “And I’ve made you grilled cheese before. And soup. Now drink some water and go to sleep.”

“God you’re so bossy.” she grumbled.

“Someone has to be, you’re a law unto yourself.”

“If I say it will you do what I said?”

“Maybe, probably, definitely maybe” she shrugged to herself.

“Then you’re awesome. Goodnight, Doll.”

“Night Stevie.”

****

Steve cut the call, placing his phone down on the counter as he thought back over the day, waiting for his food to heat up. For the first time in a long time he actually felt completely at ease. Ease with his life both in and out of SHIELD.

Up until a few weeks ago it had still felt slightly confusing, and it still did with the STRIKE team sometimes. At first he had been tentative, not trying to step on Rumlow’s toes but that had quickly settled and the two of them had fallen into a pretty good working relationship. As much as Rumlow could rile him, Steve knew that the man was good at his job, and Steve was equally good at his. He was the tactician, Rumlow organised the troops. But sometimes, well, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Sometimes he felt interest, but it was often coloured by the lingering disillusionment that his team were merely humouring him as the blue eyed all American hero he had been painted to be.

But never once had he felt like that with Katie.

And then his apartment seemed to blur in front of him, causing him to realise this went way beyond some daft crush. He was really falling in deep. The heat travelled up his chest into his neck and he felt his palms become sweaty. He dropped his arms to wipe them on his jeans as the fizzy feeling left his body, but stayed by him, swirling around until he could practically hear it. This really, really wouldn’t do. She was his best friend, a work colleague, the daughter of one of his friends from the forties…and then there was Peggy.

Not for the first time Steve delved into the reasons he’d been drawn to Katie, comparing her to Peggy. Both women had strong personalities, an unwavering sense of justice and ethics, a deep well of compassion, loyalty, and the air of authority that put more than one man in his place, including himself. They were both incredibly beautiful, filled with passion, devotion and ambition…

Abandoning his food, his appetite lost completely, he threw the remains into the bin and headed into his bedroom, intending to do what he did best when it came to women. 

Stick his head in the sand and hope to God it all went away.

****

Once she’d cleaned her face of make-up and pulled on a pair of pyjamas, Katie collapsed into her pillow, thinking about what a good day it had been. She hadn’t disgraced herself at the contest, had a good evening in the pub afterwards, and to top it off Fury and Steve had actually backed her in said contest.

At the thought of Steve, it reminded her she needed some water. Heading to the kitchen she grabbed a glass, filled it, and then made her way back to bed, this time snuggling down under the covers as she smiled to herself.

It was kind of nice to have Steve looking out for her, even if he was a bossy bastard about drinking water. It showed he cared. And it wasn’t just that, it was the way he was so comfortable with her. The gentle touches to her arm and lower back, the fact he called her doll or sweetheart. The smile that he flashed her that could light up his entire face, and those eyes, those god damned beautiful eyes that could drown her in seconds.

Her stomach was suddenly crawling with those damned butterflies, the same ones she had been feeling on or off around him now since Thanksgiving. And they fluttered from her stomach to her chest

“You’re hot for Rogers…”

Natasha and Clint had both hit the nail on the head, and that nail was getting harder and harder to ignore. She had feelings for Captain fucking America. Her dad’s friend, her best friend.

Groaning, she rolled over and shoved her head into the pillows. “I’m so fucked.”

**** Chapter 3

**Original Posting**

[peaches-writes]

not-so-secret santa

skz of christmas day 7: exchange gift with minho

member: minho  wc: 1.7k genre: fluff, childhood friends to lovers au, college au, a side of established relationship au warning: explicit language, threatening (?) note: this is me channeling all of my younger self’s christmas frustrations into a short fic lmao 

christmas 2006 

“Minho, who did you pick?” Your Homeroom teacher at the time, Ms. Yang, asked your classmate next to keep the Secret Santa chain going. The previous exchange was from Chan to Mina but since Mina already received her gift from Bam Bam, your teacher naturally picked Minho who was sitting right next to Chan. 

Next to you, said boy then handed you the red and green-wrapped rectangle in his hands. “Merry Christmas, Y/N!” He greeted you as per Mrs. Yang’s instructions when someone will give their Secret Santa present, a mischievous smile on his face. “Enjoy!” 

Your excited smile immediately fell into an angry frown as the hard rectangle is then placed on your lap. “All this time...” You pouted at Minho then, carefully picking up the gift in your hands. “You even bought this with me and you didn’t even bother making an effort!” 

The entire class looked at you inquisitively but, in the moment, you didn’t really care. You already knew that the empty picture frame Minho thought was a genius idea to gift for the Secret Santa as a prank was inside the wrapping you held, you’d know because your respective moms took you on the same shopping trip where he got it. 

Minho was not yet your best friend at the time but you were so childishly angry at that point that you didn’t hesitate on hitting him with the picture frame. “Ugh, Lee Minho, I hate you!” 

Minho’s mom ended up buying you lunch after. 

christmas 2011

“Ooh, I can’t wait to see who Minho picked for the Secret Santa.” Chan excitedly rubbed his palms together next to you, earning him a glare from you at hearing his tone of voice.

“I can’t wait to laugh if it’s you.” You deadpanned, making him chuckle.

“Ya, what’s with the death glare? I wasn’t teasing you!” He then held his hands up in defense but your glare is unwavering. “Well, not directly, at least.”

You only scoffed in response, turning your attention back to this class Christmas party’s MC, Seungkwan, who’s now, as if on cue, called onto your best friend to give away his Secret Santa gift.

“Y/N!” Minho then called for you, making yours and Chan’s eyes widen from across your large class circle. He held up the red package in his hand, the one he made you wrap yourself the night before as punishment for losing in a sleepover game, then exclaimed, “Catch!”

You weren’t given much time to process his words before the package is flung at you, landing just in front of the accumulating stack of gifts right in front of you from your other friends.

The entire class gasped before falling silent, collectively having a flashback of your 2nd grade fight with Minho over the same thing. Everyone (Chan mostly), just hoped that Minho got you something better than the empty picture frame.

But by the way your ears started to fume and you immediately stood up to tackle Minho said otherwise.

“Lee Minho, have you ever had a white T-shirt shoved in your mouth?!” You threatened as you approached him with the ‘gift’ he prepared for your Secret Santa.

Luckily, Chan was strong enough by then to hold you back.

Minho ended up (reluctantly) buying you dinner to 'compensate.’

christmas 2016

“What number did you get?” Minho asked you, resting his chin on your shoulder to peer at the folded piece of paper in your hands after. “Oh, number 10! Awesome, that’s from me!” 

It’s the one year you didn’t get to go Christmas shopping with him because you caught a fever and the class Secret Santa’s been experimentally switched out for the White Elephant game and you still somehow ended up with his present. You groaned and pulled yourself away from Minho, turning around to face him. “What is it this time, Minho?” 

“It’s something useful this time, I promise!” He swore with a hand raised on his side, going over his chest to form a cross after. 

And Minho really thought he was doing something buying a mug for you with his face printed on it. 

“See?” The boy pointed out after the gifts have been distributed. You didn’t pounce on him immediately this time since the mug could easily break. Instead, you waited until his mom picked the two of you up until you punched his arm. “It even changes to another face when you pour hot water on it!” 

To prove it to you, he barged into your home on Christmas Day and made you hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The photo of him with a heart eyes filter on the mug changed into him with a Godzilla filter. 

christmas 2020  

“Put your seatbelt on, brat.” You instruct your boyfriend as you expertly twist the ignition on your right, bringing the SUV’s engine to life. Next to you, Minho chuckles as he puts his seatbelt on, leaning back on the red-covered seats leisurely. “I don’t want you dying before we get to the Christmas Sale.” 

“It’s not like the flea market is on the other side of the country.” He scoffs playfully, laughing even more when you hit him on the shoulder as you place your hand on his headrest while backing the car out of your house’s garage. 

“It will be when I throw you across the city if you show me something weird for the exchange gift.” You glare. “This is our first Christmas as a couple and you’re already on thin ice.”

“Oh, boo, I’m so scared.” He rolls his eyes. Opening the car’s glove compartment, he takes out the picture frame he got you from the 2nd grade. It’s supposed to fit the shallow dip on the dashboard but you broke its back support some time ago. “And I don’t give weird gifts for the Secret Santa. Look, you still have a photo of us on the picture frame.” 

You glance over his side, sighing in exasperation. “Because my mom said I should at least use it, doesn’t mean I actually like it.” 

“You’re wearing the white shirt too.” He points out next. “Basics are in these days, I was ahead of my time back in high school.” 

“If you’ll get me a face towel this year—Secret Santa or not—I will actually murder you in front of all our friends this time.” 

“That’s hot, babe, I’d like to see you try.” 

- 

Minho happily links his free arm with yours as you navigate your way through the tight crowd of last-minute shoppers, his other hand carrying half of your eco bags. Throughout this two-hour trip, he’s shown you countless of weird things on sale as gifts for his friends—from plastic cereal cups that he’ll give to Felix to an actual set of face towels he plans on giving Jisung—but he’s yet to show you what he’s planning to gift you. 

Or maybe he already has and just showed it to you under the bluff that he’ll give it to someone else like he did in all those times before. 

“Min, we’ve been walking for ten minutes,” You protest as you begrudgingly drag your feet to wherever he’s taking you. Your own arms are about to fall off with your own share of eco bags and the fact that your wallet’s currently a mess with the amount of fast transactions you needed to make is starting to bother you. “Where are we going?” 

“We’re almost there, promise!” He assures you with a grin, tugging you closer to his side before you could bump into an old lady walking from the opposite direction. “We’re getting your gift now so be a little patient!” 

“Or maybe you’re fucking with me again.” You grumble, making him laugh and shake his head. 

“Nope, this one’s only for you.” He assures, pulling you to the right when you reach an intersection. “You’ll see why.” 

You only stop walking five minutes later, when Minho drags you to a stall selling pre-order snow globes. The stall owner, a buff middle-aged man, greets Minho and hands him the biggest snow globe on sale in exchange for the money he’s set aside. 

“Ah, and this is the person with you on the picture?” The man then asks him once he’s finished paying, turning to you with a polite smile. “You two are adorable! How long now?” 

“W-What?!” You stare back incredulously, processing way too slow for the situation.

Clearly, it hasn’t been long since you and Minho started dating, by the way you’re immediately flustered.

“Just a little over six months!” Minho proudly beams, on the other hand, the man laughs wholeheartedly at this.

“Aah, young love.” The stall owner chuckles. Turning to you, he then gestures to the snow glob and adds, “Your boy’s very sweet!” 

Only then do you glance down on the snow globe in front of Minho. It has two dolls resembling the two of you surrounded by cats patterned to Minho’s pets and little buildings resembling your most frequented places: the school you went to until high school, the universities you’re currently attending, the library where you spend most of your all-nighters, the hotel you stayed at on your first trip, and this particular flea market you always shop Christmas gifts at. 

There’s also the new movie house on the side but, from what you can remember, you haven’t been there yet. 

“Is this good enough for you? For a first Christmas at least?” Minho asks with a coy smile, nudging your side and effectively taking you out of your thoughts. He then holds up the snow globe to you, shaking it gently before placing it on your much freer hand. “If you check one side of the globe, there’s the movie house you wanted to visit. I was thinking we could watch a movie right after the Christmas party but, you know, just us.” 

You gush at the snow globe, squinting your eyes when you have to glance up at Minho again. “And you’re sure this is mine?” 

“It has your name engraved on the bottom, dumbass.” He points out for you, making your eyes widen momentarily. “And it has my name on it too. Put two and two together now.” 

“We’re sharing?” 

“No, babe, I’m trying to ask you out on a date!” 

-

december 23 (bang chan)

skz of christmas (masterlist) 

m.list

@skzwriternet