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serephinastardust · 1 year ago

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The Book I'm writing: Requiem of the Rising Flames Rewrite #2 Chapter 1

In the heart of the Azure Empire, tales of the fortuitous union between the Kitsune and Dragon-Kitsune bloodlines echoed through the corridors of Celestria. The colossal Nightshade clan house, adorned with intricate carvings that told the ancient stories of the empire, stood as a testament to the enduring legacy of this celestial matrimony. Whispered lore spoke of prophecies, of celestial forces harmoniously blending, foretelling a union that would bring prosperity and strength to the empire.

Generations had passed since the fabled marriage of the first Kitsune and Dragon-Kitsune, a pairing that sparked an era of unparalleled peace and abundance. The celestial energies within their union granted rulers a unique and potent synergy, harnessing the cunning of the Kitsune and the majestic power of the dragons.

The Nightshade clan, with its distinguished lineage of Kitsune, played a crucial role in maintaining this sacred tradition. Elders, scholars, and commoners believed that the marriage between Odessa, the True Kitsune heiress, and Crown Prince Xander, whose Dragon-Kitsune bloodline had yet to awaken, would be the catalyst for a new era of peace and abundance.

Odessa, wise beyond her years, harbored a distaste for the prospect of marriage despite her prestigious lineage. In her chambers, she concocted a mischievous spell in an attempt to thwart the impending engagement.

In the heart of the Nightshade clan house, Odessa, a young girl burst into her mother's chambers with an air of mischief. Lady Clarissa, draped in elegant silks that reflected the moon's glow, looked up from a worn tome filled with ancient enchantments.

"Mother, look! I made a funny spell for Xander! I'm hoping it will infuriate him enough to cancel the engagement!" Odessa declared, her amethyst eyes wide with innocence.

Lady Clarissa sighed, marking her place in the book as she discovered her daughter amidst enchanted herbs and crystals. "Funny spells are not the path to a successful engagement, my dear. But humor me, what mischief have you brewed this time?"

Odessa grinned mischievously, holding up a small crystal. "It makes people quiet, like a little mouse! There are five facets, each representing an aspect of change—love, destiny, rebellion, tradition, and freedom."

A furrow formed on Lady Clarissa's brow, but she couldn't suppress a small chuckle. "Odessa, we cannot play games with such matters. Your engagement to Prince Xander is cru…"

Cutting off her mother, Odessa pouted, "But I don't want to marry him, Mother!" Her lower lip trembled in a perfect portrayal of wounded innocence.

Lady Clarissa began to speak again, her voice carrying the weight of tradition and responsibility. "Odessa, our bloodline carries not only power but responsibility. The union between your blood and Xander's is more than a mere marriage. It's a bridge between worlds, a tether that holds the delicate balance of our empire."

Ignoring her mother's plea, Odessa darted toward the exit. "I'm going to tell Xander myself!"

"Odessa, wait!" Lady Clarissa called after her, but the determined girl had already vanished from view.

Outside, under the azure sky of Celestria, Odessa's declaration echoed through the grand halls of the Nightshade clan house. Her amethyst eyes sparkled with a mischievous glow, and her silver hair took on a radiant sheen as she sprinted through the bustling streets, unseen by onlookers.

As Odessa approached the palace walls, she felt an unusual surge of energy. Without hesitation, she hurled the small crystal toward the palace gate. To her surprise, the crystal sailed through the air with a supernatural grace, guided by an invisible force. It soared over the towering walls and landed within the palace grounds.

A triumphant grin spread across Odessa's face as she realized the effectiveness of her spell. The fox within her bloodline granted her uncanny agility and a mystical connection to the enchanted crystal. Without physically climbing the wall, she leaped effortlessly, more fluid and nimbler than any seven-year-old should be.

Inside the palace, the crystal released its magical influence, causing a momentary stir among the palace guards. Crown Prince Xander, still struggling with his newfound silence, stared in astonishment as the crystal landed at his feet.

"What in the world…" he muttered as he picked up the enchanted crystal. The sunlight caught the subtle glint in Xander's eyes, revealing an intensity that hinted at the potential for greatness.

As Odessa gracefully landed on the other side of the wall, she dusted off her dress and met Xander's gaze. "Xander!" she exclaimed, her amethyst eyes sparkling with a mixture of determination and mischief. "I need to talk to you, right now!"

For a moment, curiosity sparked in Xander's sapphire eyes. He studied Odessa, his expression hinting at the initial stirrings of interest. However, in an instant, his features became aloof and distant. The sapphire gaze turned cold, a princely veneer settling over his countenance.

Silently, Xander turned and walked away, ignoring Odessa entirely. The courtyard seemed to echo with the distant rustle of leaves, as if the palace acknowledged the shift in atmosphere.

Alone in the palace courtyard, Odessa felt a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and a twinge of hurt. The glow that had sparked in her eyes now flickered, replaced by a subtle shadow of uncertainty. The crisp air seemed to carry a weight she hadn't anticipated as if the realization of Xander's aloof dismissal settled upon her small shoulders.

As she clutched the enchanted crystal, its magical energy resonated with conflicting emotions. Odessa's silver hair, once radiant with a mischievous shimmer, now fell around her like a veil, concealing the disappointment etched on her young face.

Making her way back through the streets of Celestria, each step felt heavier than the last. The vibrant city, usually teeming with life, now moved in a muted rhythm, mirroring the subdued cadence of Odessa's thoughts. The palace walls, initially an obstacle, now stood as a symbol of the barrier between her desires and the reality dictated by lore.

As she entered the Nightshade clan house, Lady Clarissa awaited her with a mixture of concern and understanding. Odessa's eyes, once filled with the spark of rebellion, now carried a glint of vulnerability. Her mother, sensing the weight of unspoken emotions, embraced her daughter, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

"Odessa, my love, what has transpired?" Lady Clarissa asked, her voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of the grand Nightshade halls.

"I tried, Mother. I tried to break free from this predetermined path, but he wouldn't even listen," Odessa whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

Lady Clarissa tightened her embrace, a solemn understanding passing between them. "The threads of tradition run deep, my dear. It's a tapestry we cannot easily unravel. But we'll find a way, together."

Odessa pulled away slightly, her amethyst eyes searching her mother's for answers. "Why must I follow this path, Mother? Why can't I choose my own destiny?"

A shadow passed over Lady Clarissa's regal features, a reflection of the conflict within. "Our bloodline carries not only power but responsibility, Odessa. The union between your blood and Xander's is more than a mere marriage. It's a bridge between worlds, a tether that holds the delicate balance of our empire."

"But I don't love him, Mother. And he won't even speak to me!" Odessa's frustration bubbled to the surface, her voice carrying the weight of a suppressed rebellion.

Lady Clarissa sighed, her gaze a mix of empathy and resignation. "Love, my sweet Kitsune, is a complicated tapestry. Sometimes, the threads are woven not by choice but by destiny. We must navigate these complexities with wisdom and grace."

Odessa's eyes, once filled with rebellion, now reflected a brewing storm of conflicting emotions. "I won't be confined to a destiny I did not choose, Mother. I won't let the blood that flows in my veins dictate my every step."

A tension hung in the air, the ancestral portraits lining the walls of the Nightshade halls seemingly bearing witness to the clash between tradition and the fierce spirit of a young Kitsune.

Lady Clarissa, her features a mix of concern and maternal determination, cupped Odessa's face in her hands. "We'll find a way, my love. But tread carefully, for the path you seek is fraught with challenges. The journey ahead is uncertain, and the consequences of defiance can be profound."

As Odessa met her mother's gaze, a spark of determination ignited in her amethyst eyes. "I won't be silent, Mother. I won't let the echoes of tradition drown out the voice within me."

The Nightshade halls, shrouded in the weight of ancient secrets, bore witness to the unfolding struggle between a mother's love and a daughter's rebellion. The tale of Bloodlines took an unexpected turn, and the destiny of Odessa Nightshade, True Kitsune heiress, hung in the balance, teetering between the threads of tradition and the untamed spirit within her.

As Odessa grappled with the conflict within the Nightshade clan house, the air seemed to shimmer with an ethereal energy. The ancestral portraits lining the walls appeared to flicker, their eyes seemingly alive with secrets that transcended generations. Whispers of ancient spirits lingered in the air, as if the very walls held the memories of Kitsune who had faced similar dilemmas in times long past.

Lady Clarissa, aware of the weight of her daughter's struggle, led Odessa to the heart of the Nightshade sanctum—a chamber adorned with enchanted tapestries depicting the union of Kitsune and dragons. The room exuded an otherworldly aura, and the flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls.

"My dear Odessa," Lady Clarissa began, her voice taking on a mystical cadence, "within these walls, the echoes of our bloodline speak to us. The True Kitsune Blood is a gift and a burden. It awakens not by our choosing but by the whims of fate. Your destiny is entwined with the very essence of this sacred lineage."

Odessa, intrigued by the enchantment of the room, felt a magnetic pull to the center where a crystal-clear pool reflected the silvery moonlight. "What do these spirits say, Mother? What guidance do they offer?"

Lady Clarissa's gaze, softened by a blend of maternal love and ancient wisdom, focused on the pool. "They tell tales of resilience, my dear. Of Kitsune who faced the turbulent winds of destiny and emerged not as slaves to fate, but as weavers of their own destinies. But remember, the path is treacherous, and the consequences of defiance can echo through time."

As the two gazed into the pool, images flickered on the surface—visions of Kitsune who had defied tradition and, against all odds, forged their own destinies. The stories unfolded like a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow, leaving Odessa both awestruck and contemplative.

Meanwhile, in the palace courtyard, Xander stood alone, holding the enchanted crystal in his hand. The magical energy within it resonated with the dormant Dragon-Kitsune bloodline. His internal dialogue wrestled with conflicting emotions, a silent storm that mirrored the uncertainty in Odessa's heart.

"The True Kitsune Blood," he thought, his sapphire eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "A force that cannot be tamed, a power that defies the constraints of tradition. Yet, the union it demands is one I've never chosen. What fate binds me to this path, and how can I reconcile the silent call within?"

Back in the Nightshade sanctum, Odessa felt a surge of determination. "Mother, I understand the weight of responsibility, but I can't let this tradition confine me. There must be a way to honor our bloodline while also embracing the freedom to choose."

Lady Clarissa nodded, her eyes reflecting a blend of pride and concern. "The spirits speak of balance, my dear. To honor the bloodline is to acknowledge its power and tread carefully between tradition and the untamed spirit within. Seek counsel from the spirits, but remember, the answers you seek may not be straightforward."

As Odessa and her mother continued to converse, a gust of wind swept through the sanctum, causing the tapestries to flutter. The room seemed alive with the energies of the Kitsune spirits as if they were witnessing a crucial chapter in the unfolding tale of Bloodlines.

In the heart of the Nightshade sanctum, as the flickering candlelight cast an enchanting glow, Odessa turned her gaze toward the ancient tapestries adorning the walls. The images depicted the union of Kitsune and dragons, a sacred dance that echoed through centuries. The air in the room seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly energy, a resonance that linked Odessa to the spirits of her bloodline.

As Lady Clarissa observed her daughter, she sensed the weight of unspoken questions lingering in the air. With a knowing look, Lady Clarissa began to weave the tapestry of lore that surrounded the enigmatic figure known as Master Fox.

"Odessa, my love, the tales of Master Fox are not mere legends but echoes of a time when our continent was fractured, and chaos reigned," Lady Clarissa began, her voice carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "Master Fox, a Kitsune of unparalleled wisdom and cunning, emerged from the shadows to unite the warring clans and bring about an era of peace."

Odessa's eyes widened with curiosity as she listened to the lore of the legendary figure who had shaped the destiny of their world. Lady Clarissa continued, "Master Fox's mastery of both Kitsune magic and the ancient arts of dragons made him a force to be reckoned with. His wisdom transcended the boundaries of time, and his influence extended beyond the physical realm."

As they stood before the tapestries, the images seemed to come alive, portraying Master Fox orchestrating diplomatic alliances, harnessing the power of celestial energies, and weaving spells that bridged the gap between Kitsune and dragonkind. Lady Clarissa's words carried a cadence that echoed the reverence with which Master Fox was held within the Nightshade clan.

"Rumors abound that before Master Fox disappeared from the annals of history, he spoke of a day when he would return to ensure the continued prosperity of our people," Lady Clarissa continued, her gaze fixed on the ancient depictions. "He foretold that a symbol, a mark of our bloodline's resurgence, would be revealed—a locket of celestial design."

Odessa's hand instinctively went to the locket around her neck, it was not merely a piece of jewelry but a vessel containing the essence of Master Fox, Odessa's wise and enigmatic mentor. Its intricate celestial design shimmered in the candlelight, and Odessa felt a profound connection to the tales of Master Fox.

Lady Clarissa, recognizing the significance of the locket, continued, "The locket you wear, is a conduit to Master Fox's guidance. Legend has it that the locket will reveal its true purpose when the True Kitsune Blood resurfances.

As Odessa listened to her mother's words, a sense of responsibility mingled with the spark of curiosity within her. The locket, once a mere piece of jewelry, now held the weight of ancient prophecies and the mentorship of Master Fox.

"The spirits within this sanctum, the echoes of our bloodline, guide us through the tapestry of fate. Seek the wisdom of the locket, my love, and let the resonance of Master Fox's teachings guide you through the challenges ahead," Lady Clarissa advised, her voice carrying a blend of maternal warmth and reverence for the wise Kitsune.

With newfound determination, Odessa touched the locket, feeling a surge of energy. The images on the tapestries seemed to respond as if acknowledging the True Kitsune heiress.

The Nightshade sanctum, now a haven where ancient spirits and mentorship converged, became a crucible of destiny. The locket, now infused with the spirit of Master Fox, became a conduit for Odessa to navigate the intricate dance between tradition and the untamed spirit within.

Outside the sanctum, the palace courtyard bore witness to Xander's internal struggle. Holding the enchanted crystal, he felt a resonance with the dormant Dragon-Kitsune bloodline within him. The locket's celestial glow mirrored the conflicted emotions that stirred within him.

A silent understanding seemed to bridge the distance between Odessa and Xander, even as fate sought to entwine their paths. The locket and crystal, two artifacts infused with the essence of ancient bloodlines, held the key to unlocking the mysteries that bound them together.

As Odessa and Xander embarked on separate journeys within the Nightshade clan house, their destinies converged like threads weaving a tapestry. The sanctum, with its enchanted atmosphere, became a nexus of choices that echoed through the corridors of time.

In the heart of Celestria, where the Nightshade clan house stood as a silent sentinel, the city's vibrant energy mirrored the intricate dance of fate. The celestial forces that bound Kitsune and dragons, the legacy of Master Fox, and the impending union of Odessa and Xander converged in a symphony of destiny.

The locket and crystal, both pulsating with ancient energies, became talismans guiding Odessa and Xander toward a future where the echoes of tradition would meet the resounding call of their true selves.

As they navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the Nightshade clan house, Odessa and Xander felt the weight of their bloodlines and the allure of choices that could reshape the very fabric of their world. The spirits within the sanctum whispered ancient wisdom, urging them to embrace the balance between tradition and the untamed spirit within.

The tale of Bloodlines unfolded, not merely as a chronicle of predetermined destinies, but as a saga where the protagonists dared to challenge the threads of fate. The Nightshade clan house, with its hidden chambers and ancient lore, became a stage for the dance of Kitsune and dragons, tradition and rebellion, love and duty.

As Odessa and Xander reached pivotal moments in their respective journeys, the locket and crystal resonated with a harmonious energy, a celestial song that echoed through the corridors of time. The spirits of the Nightshade bloodline, once silent observers, became active participants in the unfolding drama.

The Nightshade sanctum, illuminated by the glow of the locket and crystal, held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Master Fox's legacy. The choices made within its hallowed walls would reverberate through the ages, shaping the destiny of the Azure Empire and the union between Kitsune and dragons.

In the heart of the Nightshade sanctum, Lady Clarissa's voice carried the weight of thirteen generations, her words weaving a tapestry of lore that reached back to a time when the True Kitsune Blood last graced their lineage. The air seemed to hum with the echoes of Master Fox, a figure who had brought peace to the continent over a millennium ago.

"Odessa, my love, it has been thirteen generations since the True Kitsune Blood has graced our clan," Lady Clarissa began, her eyes holding the depth of ancient wisdom. "Master Fox, the enigmatic figure who vanished over a millennium ago, played a pivotal role in bringing an era of peace to our people. Legend has it that before his disappearance, he foretold a day when our bloodline would awaken once more, ushering in an era of prosperity."

Odessa, listening to the tales of Master Fox, felt the weight of responsibility intensify. The mention of a locket, a celestial key to unlocking the dormant Kitsune Blood, resonated through the sanctum. Lady Clarissa continued, her gaze fixed on the subtle glow of Odessa's own locket.

"The locket you wear, my dear, is said to be a gift from Master Fox himself. A conduit to his guidance, it holds the essence of his wisdom and the promise that our bloodline would find peace again," Lady Clarissa explained, her hand gently resting on Odessa's shoulder.

Odessa's internal dialogue became a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions. Thirteen generations of dormancy, the weight of Master Fox's prophecies, and the responsibility embedded in her locket became threads entwined in her very being. Lady Clarissa, aware of Odessa's internal struggle, spoke with a mix of solemnity and reassurance.

As Odessa's gaze met her mother's, a spark of determination flickered in her amethyst eyes. The Nightshade sanctum, once a chamber filled with whispers of tradition, now echoed with the silent rebellion of a young Kitsune. Lady Clarissa, recognizing the fire within her daughter, nodded with a blend of pride and concern.

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verecunda · 3 years ago

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WIP Wednesday: the Halenthir double-bill

I’m really trying to finish off a couple of exchange fics, which I have to keep under wraps for now obviously, but apart from them, I’m apparently very much in a Caranthir/Haleth mood, because I have two fics for them on the go.

First, the neverending midwinter fic:

Then she turned to him, looking at him with sudden earnestness. “Please, do not think me ungracious for refusing your offers. You have been a true friend to my people, but ever the one wish of the Haladin has been to brook no sovereignty but our own.”

“And I honour that.” Indeed, was it not the same desire that had brought the Noldor back over the Sea to Middle-earth? He could hardly grudge the Edain the same. He smiled, hoping to put at her ease. “Believe me, Haleth: if I bore a grudge, I would not now be here, with several casks of my best wine.”

She laughed at that, as he had seldom heard her laugh before now. Humour he had seen often enough: dry flashes of wit, fugitive smiles that seemed to win out upon her face despite herself; but laughter was a thing that came rarely to the lips of Haleth. Yet now he heard it, a low, full, warm flow of amusement that caused an answering warmth to bloom in his breast.

“And glad I am that you are here, Caranthir,” she replied. “You and your companions. Your friendship has given us much to be cheerful for this Yule-tide, when we might otherwise have spent it counting the empty places by the fires.” The smile did not quite slip, but something of a shadow came into her face then. “I speak not only as the chieftain of the Haladin, but for myself also.”

And a wee idea that popped into my head the other day, much bleaker, where after the Second Kinslaying, the mortally wounded Caranthir retreats to the Forest of Brethil, and Haudh-en-Arwen...

Upon the death of the King, the remnant of his guard that still stood regrouped, and with the reckless valour of despair, they made one last sally against their foe. Caught unawares by the swift violence of this attack, the sons of Fëanor were driven back, routed from the blood-marred halls. There they left Celegorm, who lay where he had fallen, struck down by the one who might have been his son had he been allowed his will, the look of savage laughter still marked upon his face. Back, back they were driven, a furious running battle, giving ground with every clash of arms, until they burst from the caves, pursued across the Esgalduin bridge. There Curufin was slain, and as the storm of battle passed on, his body was hurled over the parapet to be lost in the white torrent below.

Lord knows which one’ll end up finished first. X’D

#WIP Wednesday #my fic #The Silmarillion #Haleth #Caranthir #Halenthir

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grovyrosegirl · 3 years ago

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Confrontation: MCSM Fic

Author’s Note: I’ve been replaying MCSM seasons 1 and 2 recently because I got nostalgic for those blocky dorks. Then I went through some old WIPs in my docs and found this Lukas and Aiden fic from a few years ago. I really liked it, so I spruced it up a bit and finished it for old times’ sake. Enjoy!

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“Bring him in.”

The guards wasted no time leading Lukas into the small cobblestone room. Despite confiscating everything in his inventory upon arrival, including his weapons, they kept a tight, secure grip on both of his arms. It was only when his former friend, who leaned against the wall with the most satisfied smirk on his face, gave them a small handwave that the guards released Lukas and stepped back, still blocking the only exit to the room.

“Leave us,” Aiden then ordered the two guards, much to Lukas’ surprise.

Even with the wary looks he saw on their faces, the guards obeyed and left the room, shutting the iron door behind them. Lukas faced forward once again, now noticing the oak wood table resting in the center of the room, two identical chairs stood on opposite sides of the table’s surface.

“Take a seat, Lukas,” Aiden made his way over and sat down in the chair facing the door, casually resting his arms behind his head. “Let’s chat.”

Lukas didn’t speak, eyeing the other carefully. Despite everything that had occurred in the past year, knowing what Aiden was capable of, and how low he’d sunk already, seeing that look--that smile--on his face felt unsettling to him. Lukas recalled their theater days that felt like centuries ago, the days before the Witherstorm, before they even thought to call themselves the Ocelots. Aiden was never much of an actor, his specialty had always been the set production.

But clearly, Lukas thought to himself as he felt his eyes lower into a glare, Aiden was enjoying playing the villain.

Slowly, he made his way over to the other chair, sitting down and folding his arms.

“So, is this the part where you try to get me to talk?” Lukas curtly began before Aiden could open his mouth again. “Because you’re wasting your time. Even if I did know where Jesse was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Everything had happened so fast. The guards raced towards them all, closing in fast when they were revealed as the bridge-builders, an innocent act back home, but a crime on the floating island. His own capture occurred in a matter of seconds, he didn’t even see the guard coming until the very last moment. One minute he was watching Jesse sprint away into the alley, the next he was on the ground, pinned down by the guard. But those few seconds let Jesse and Petra escape, and for that, he took some relief in. By the time Lukas and Ivor were escorted to the throne room, the Founder was already getting the report from another guard that they’d lost sight of the “remaining criminals” as they put it.

He felt relieved knowing that his two friends hadn’t been captured yet. It meant there was a sliver of hope of getting out of this place.

Aiden let out an exaggerated sigh and sat up straight in the chair, leaning forward slightly and placing his arms crossed on the table’s surface, “Man, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse. Aren’t you sick of talking about her yet? Don’t worry, I’m not going to try and get an answer out of you. Like you said, it would be a waste of time. Besides, you already got plenty of that from the Founder.” He snickered for a moment before continuing, “No. This is the part where I throw you a bone.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Lukas said.

“It means I’m giving you a chance here, buddy,” Aiden said, “to join the winning team again.”

Lukas blinked, “What?”

“You heard me.”

He eyed Aiden suspiciously before saying, “You can’t be serious.”

“No games here, friend. Out of the goodness of my heart, I’ve decided to give you a second chance,” Aiden stood from his seat and began to walk around the table to stand next to Lukas. “C’mon, Lukas! It’ll be like the old days. Don’t you remember? We were the top dogs for years, and now, we can finally be on top again. But this time, it’ll be more than just winning some lame building contest.”

Aiden let out a deep chuckle, he wrapped one arm around Lukas’ shoulders and leaned in closer, a grin on his face.

“Here in this world, buddy? We can be kings.”

Lukas roughly shoved against Aiden’s chest, making the other man stumble back a few steps.

“I knew it,” Lukas said through his heated glare, “you’re planning to betray the Founder, aren’t you? It’s not enough that you want to steal the Eversource from her, you want her throne too.”

Aiden shot his own blazing glare back at Lukas, before regaining his composure and saying with that same grin, “Congrats Captain Obvious, you want a cookie?”

“Eat a slimeball, Aiden,” Lukas fired back, “do you honestly think you’ll get away with this?”

“I already am. But right now? That’s nothing you need to worry about,” He once again leaned back against the cobblestone walls. “The real question you should be asking is whether or not you’ll get to be a part of the spoils. It’s easy, Lukas. All you have to do is say yes and follow my lead. After that? Well, it’ll take a while, but I’m sure you can make up for abandoning your real team.”

At those words, Lukas’ boiling thoughts began to steam. He smashed his hands against the table’s surface and pushed himself up from the chair.

“Excuse me?!” He exclaimed. “You must’ve really lost me there, because last time I checked, it was you who abandoned me!”

At that reaction, Aiden almost seemed to shrink against the wall. However, he swiftly recovered his bravado and moved towards Lukas with gripped fists.

“We left because all you could think about was Jesse and her loser friends! It was always, ‘I’ve got to help Jesse build today!’ or ‘I’m going to visit Jesse!’” He clasped his hands together, held them close to his cheek as if he were hopelessly in love, and swung them back and forth while speaking in a mocking manner, “‘She’s my new best friend! We make cookies together! She’s sooo nice, and she’s sooo cool!’ You followed her around like a lovesick puppy. It makes me want to hurl!”

“I don’t get it all. Why?” Lukas shook his head in frustration. “Why do you hate her so much? Why have you always hated her so much? She never did anything to you! You always just got a kick out of torturing her and her friends, didn’t you? And when you couldn’t pick on her anymore, you start pushing Maya and Gill around. Anything to make yourself feel tall, is that it?!”

“Not like you ever tried to stop me,” he scoffed.

“Because back then, I thought it was all some dumb rivalry. But I was wrong. And I still kick myself everyday for not putting a stop to it. Maybe if I had,” Lukas paused, then let out a sigh that was flooded with a regretful tone, “maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Aiden scowled, “She’s a loser. And all she does is drag people down to her loser level. She did it with Petra, and she did it with you.”

“She’s a hero. And she’s my friend!”

“I was your friend!” Aiden snarled.

“Yeah, you were. Until you decided that your stupid, fragile ego mattered more than years worth of friendship!”

“If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t have chosen Jesse over me!”

“If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t have made me choose!”

At the end of his patience, Aiden lunged forward with an angry screech. He grabbed the collar of Lukas’ jacket and yanked the boy forward, dangling him slightly off the ground.

“I can do it, you know,” Aiden said through gritted teeth. His voice was low, but ever-so menacing, “I can throw you off this island right now. No one would blame me if I told them you attacked me. The people here believe whatever I tell them. You fall into the void forever, and all you’ll be remembered as is some villain who tried to attack this island’s savior.”

Lukas, amidst his struggle against Aiden’s grip, looked him directly in the eyes and said in his own low, fearsome voice, “I dare you.”

Aiden went still. All of the bravado, the threats, and the glares were drained from his face. His eyes went wide with disbelief, and in that moment, Lukas saw it. Fear. Hesitation. The thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d taken a step too far. Aiden opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. With only a sentence, Lukas was allowed to see the tiniest glimpse of the person he used to trust most in the world.

He saw the scared, insecure kid he’d met all those years ago.

Aiden’s grip on Lukas became loose, allowing the latter to easily push him away.

“That’s what I thought,” Lukas broke the silence with a sigh. He buried his hands into his jacket pockets, looking down to the floor, “You’re all talk, Aiden. Always have been.”

The anger returned as quickly as it had fled. But it wasn’t explosive. It was simmering. Aiden narrowed his eyes back into a glare, his fists, clenched so tight it looked painful, were trembling.

Another moment of silence passed before Aiden finally looked away from Lukas and exclaimed, “Guards!”

The same guards who’d brought Lukas here returned swiftly, entering the room and grabbing ahold of both of his arms once more. Lukas did little to resist their hold, only keeping a hard stare on Aiden.

“Get him out of my sight,” Aiden said in a low growl. “He’s useless.”

The guards obeyed and led Lukas out of the room. With a slam of the iron door, Aiden was left alone.

#my fanfics #Minecraft Story Mode #mcsm #MCSM lukas #mcsm Aiden #MCSM episode 5

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thomaslightwoodenthusiast · 4 years ago

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hey you guys, here is a little something i’ve been working on! it’s going to be quite long so apologies, but i am going to eventually post it on wattpad too! enjoy!

(this piece revolves around thomastair, but is NOT thomastair only. they are going to be the main theme, but i don’t like writing pieces only on a ship. also it’s gonna be good anyways bc it has drunk and pining charles at one point)

A NOTE: i realised there is a problem. if i wrote the entire thing in a tumblr post, it will be far too long. but it also isn’t long enough for a work. i have decided i will upload in different parts. please let me know if after reading this you are still interested! if not, that’s fine and i’ll probably post it to wattpad lol. but i haven’t written in a while now and i am scared it’s not as good lol. anyways here u go

enjoy!

desc: in which christopher decides that everyone needs a pick me up after recent events, and concludes that the best way to do so is to hold a talent show at the institute. what could possibly happen?

———————————

Alastair scrunched up yet another ball of paper and threw it atop the ever increasing pile beside his desk. He had been trying for days- no, weeks now, to write a letter to Thomas. Despite feeling that he did the right thing in walking away, he could not scratch the feeling that he had hurt him. He wanted at least to apologise, and to let him know he believed it was the best decision for them both.

But was it? Alastair could not lie to himself. He did not feel as good as he thought he would. I’m doing this for his sake, he thought. He is more important to me than I will ever be to myself.

“So, what do you think?”

Alastair looked up. He’d almost forgotten about the ‘Talent Show’ Christopher Lightwood was arranging at the Institute. He was actually considering turning up to prove the point that he was not going to accept Matthew’s ill treatment of him, but he had little energy and currently could not be bothered to waste time on him. He knew that Cordelia was going. She and Lucie had chosen to audition together. They were going to act out a scene from ‘The Beautiful Cordelia’, with Lucie as Cordelia and his sister as one of her many lovers Lucie provided her with.

She was wearing his clothes.

“I think you look utterly mad. In a pleasant way, of course.” It was true. Cordelia looked amazing in his clothes. Not as good as he did, but a close second.

“Thank you, oh cheerful brother of mine. Are you quite alright? There is a rather large pile of paper beside you. Not to mention you look as if your eyes have cried the tears of the earth’s oceans,” she replied. There was the usual sibling tone of mockery in her voice, but also a tone of genuine concern. Alastair looked at himself in the window and realised Cordelia was right; he must have been crying, though he had no recollection of doing so.

“I am fine. Go and have fun. You deserve to, after this gargantuan mess.”

“Alastair, I am not stupid. I know when you are hurting. And what’s that on your desk?” she asked. Before he could stop her, Cordelia had made her way across the room and grabbed the piece of paper sitting in front of him. Alastair had not realised it, but he had written a few of his earlier thoughts on the page.

Cordelia frowned as she read out loud, “‘He is more important to me than I will ever be to myself.’ Alastair, I swear on all of the angels if this is about Ch-“

“It isn’t! It isn’t. I...well I suppose it’s just thoughts. Feelings.”

Cordelia was not having it. “If it’s not about him, who is it about?”

“Well, if you want a clue, his friend is the reason I cannot be at all bothered to attend tonight.”

Cordelia thought, and there was a long pause. She furrowed her brow. She seemed to be remembering something. “It’s not...is it Thomas?”

Alastair closed his eyes, as if the name pained him. “How did you guess?”

Cordelia had to admit; she wasn’t entirely sure. But a few observations she’d made over the past months had made her think. She remembered the time on the bridge when Thomas refused to show his tattoo- until Alastair had asked to see it. The time at Anna’s, when she had asked everyone what names they would want and Thomas had quietly admitted he would want only one, never saying who.

The time she and her brother had been speaking with Charles, only for her to notice Thomas had been staring at them.

“I don’t know. Sisterly instincts, I suppose. Do you want to tell me about it? Actually, no, hold on. I will not give you the option. You bottle up far too much, Alastair. Please, pray tell me, what this is about?”

Alastair sat for a moment, unsure where to start. “You remember the day, don’t you? When I defended Thomas in the Sanctuary? It starts long before that; but I fear if I tell it all you may miss out on your night. I had said that I followed him because you were fond of him. That was...” He trailed off. The words were not leaving his mouth. Cordelia smiled sympathetically. “It was only part of the truth. I came to find that I myself was indeed...quite fond of him. And I was afraid that if he went out alone with a murderer on the loose, something would happen. I couldn’t bear the thought of it being my fault; I have done enough damage. When I saw him being arrested I panicked and did the only rational thing I could think of.”

Cordelia raised her eyebrow. “Follow him the whole way to the Sanctuary risking getting caught by the Inquisitor, then further increase your risk of getting caught by sneaking into the Institute and hiding until you were needed?”

“What can I say?” her brother replied, seeming distant. “You do...odd things, when you care about someone.”

“Alastair, you risked your own safety doing what you did as well. I do not know what on earth I would do if something had happened to you without my knowledge.”

“My dear Layla. When one’s heart is so encompassed with love for another, rationality is quite frankly defenestrated.”

“What exactly does ‘defenestrated’ mean?”

“Thrown out the window,” Alastair replied, matter-of-factly. Cordelia moved towards the door of his room, realising she had to leave soon. “I only want to ask one more question. Is Thomas aware of your feelings for him?”

Alastair laughed to himself. “Quite. In fact, in the Sanctuary, I discovered that being held in confinement with someone who is as handsome as he is kind can result in interesting outcomes.”

Cordelia mocked a gasp. “Alastair Esfandiyār Carstairs, did you spend that whole night-“

“Ah ah! An honourable man does not kiss and tell.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened. “YOU KI-“

“Fine! Quieten down, lest mother is given a heart attack! Look, what happened is staying between us only. But I can tell you this; we did have a long conversation, in which he told me that he liked men. He also told me how he had figured that out; turns out that it was essentially me. I was quite shocked, because I thought he was referring to our school days when he mentioned feelings for me. I was, however, promptly proven wrong, shall we say.”

Cordelia’s face burst into a grin, before she sensed there was something else to the story. “Wait. What happened? What did you tell him?”

“You must understand, Layla, I really do care for him. But his friends- they hate me. Matthew cannot even be in the same room as me without hurling an insult. I cannot be with him; it is too complicated. I do not want to break that poor boy’s heart again, not after the Academy. I told him what I just told you, though I fear my last statement may have been too late. The letter you have in your hand and the paper you see on the floor are all my attempts at an apology. I just...walked away. Left him there. If only I had the chance to apologise to Matthew, this could have been different. But he will not accept it. He will not stop hounding me with comments, and I feel as though I can never stop being fifteen years old. I know I deserve better, but it can be tiring to fight when all your life you’ve been at war with yourself.”

Cordelia made a decision in that moment. She looked at Alastair and observed the similarities in how he and Thomas had been acting. Thomas looked a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, only to have one twice as heavy dropped on again. Alastair seemed even more quiet than usual. “You are coming with me. I don’t care when you turn up, you are turning up. I will ensure there is a piano nearby so that you can demonstrate your own incredible talent. If Matthew makes a jab at you, I will take care of it. If these rules are not met, you will be cut to pieces with Cortana. See you there,” she said, concluding her speech and leaving. Alastair watched as she left the house. He felt inspired by what she had said. He realised something within himself, too.

I cannot run from my past, but I cannot be forced to stay in it either. I am worth more than that.

And I’ll take any opportunity possible to make sure Matthew knows I refuse to take it anymore.

#shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #chain of iron #lgbtq #queer #cordelia carstairs #alastair and cordelia #alastair carstairs #the last hours #chain of gold #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #james herondale #matthew fairchild #will herondale #lucie herondale #thomastair #alastair x thomas

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backtobackbakubabe · 4 years ago

Text

I am the Alpha Now Part 17

Bakugo X Reader

Words : 2431

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

************************************************************************

When you woke up you felt like you had a hangover. Your whole body ached, your mouth was dry, your head was pounding, and to top it off you wanted to hurl. Lucky for you, you didn’t really have enough in your stomach to throw up.

So instead you just laid still, curled up on your side, doing your best to pretend the last 48 hours weren’t real. Pretending that you were back in your room at UA and any minute now Katsuki was going to turn over and wrap you in his arms. Maybe he’d scold you for sleeping in. Or maybe he’d be in a good mood and bring you coffee, just the way he knows you like it.

You were ripped away from your little fantasy as the sound of the door slamming. “Wake up brat, it’s time to eat.” Dabi plopped down rather roughly next to you with a bag in hand. “You’re American right? So, I figured this would work.”

You cracked an eye open to see a McDonalds bag and your stomach started to roll just looking at it. “I think I’m going to be sick…”

Dabi scoffed, “What you too good for fast food or something?” He pulled out a box of nuggets and some fries.

Honestly it had been a while since you had the greasy food. Katsuki had made it a habit to cook for you whenever he could. He was a master meal prepper and his cooking was always healthy. Delicious for sure, but he would never give you junk food.

You hummed as you tried to sit up. Clenching your eyes shut the entire time. “I’m pretty sure if I eat anything right now, I’ll just throw it up.”

“And I’m pretty sure you won’t feel any better until you get some food in your stomach. Now stop being such a child and eat.” He pulled out a gallon jug of water, “And drink this. You’re probably a little dehydrated from sweating so much earlier.”

He caught you looking at him like he had two heads and he growled. “Look just because I’m pretty much a villain, and I basically kidnapped you, doesn’t mean I’m completely heartless. And I’m definitely not stupid. If you’re going to be in any kind of fighting condition, we need to at least try to take care of you.”

You glared at him, “Do you usually take care of people by beating the shit out of them?”

He shoved the box of nuggets into your hands, “No, I don’t usually take care of anyone at all. Be happy I’m even trying. Just fucking eat already we have more work to do.”

You froze with a nugget halfway to your mouth. “I-I can’t take anymore today.”

He just rolled his eyes, “God you’re such a weenie. We’re just going over some files. Besides I thought you weren’t scared of me…”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “I’m not scared of you. If I wanted to leave right now I could! The only thing keeping me here is the blackmail…” Your voice got quieter, “And the fact that my body doesn’t seem to want to move…”

You took a small nibble of your chicken nugget and you had to admit it was actually helping a little bit. Dabi gave you a knowing smirk, “Atta girl. Eat up, we have a lot to go over and I don’t like repeating myself.”

He spread a few files open on the table in front of you. You noticed one belonged to you and you really hoped he wouldn’t be going into that one. The rest however seemed to be everything they knew about Shigaraki. On top there where several pictures of people that he had killed. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as your vision blurred and your head swam with those images you would never be able to unsee. How was Dabi so casual about this?

Speaking of Dabi he was currently snapping in your face, “Seriously? Pay attention would ya? …..Fucking zombie”

You tried to return your attention back to what he was saying. Honestly, a lot of it you already knew from what you learned about him at UA. The league of villains was a hot topic. The league had a weird obsession with the students that attended there so naturally UA made sure to prepare them for worst case scenario.

You weren’t going to tell Dabi that though. Firstly, because he doesn’t need to know how much you already knew about him, and secondly… the longer he talks about this shit, the longer you don’t have to “train” with him.

Dabi had been absolutely brutal. He had broken your bones, burned you, stabbed you, and at one point you were sure he gave you a concussion. The worst part was you couldn’t even defend yourself. You were expected to sit there and voluntarily let him hurt you over and over again. It was no wonder why you felt like shit now.

You continued to nibble on your nuggets as Dabi drowned on, pointing to words on a page that you couldn’t even focus on. You hugged your knees to your chest, and for the hundredth time since you left UA, you felt empty. There was this constant nagging feeling at the back of your mind. No doubt it was Katsuki or Mercy doing everything in their power to open up the bond on their end. It was starting to give you a headache.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. Dabi without missing a beat continued talking while pushing the water jug towards you.

When you didn’t drink anything, he rolled his eyes, “You have a headache because you’re dehydrated. Fucking drink some water.”

A deep growl rolled through your chest, “No… I have a headache because in the last 48 hours a certain someone has bashed my skull in… Twice!” You winced as a sharp but brief pain ripped through your head.

To your disgust Dabi just chuckled at your pain. “You’ll heal. Besides it’s probably just a migraine. Don’t be dramatic.” He stood up and dimmed the lights. “There, now quit your bitchin, drink your water, and fucking pay attention would ya?”

*****************BAKUGO’S POV*****************************

He was never known to be a patient man. So, it was no surprise that he had been pacing for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Hawks. There was no reason he should have beaten Hawks here… the fucker had wings!

He was running an angry hand through his hair when he felt a light breeze followed by the thud of feet hitting the ground.

“About fucking time! What? Did you stop to get your nails done on the way here? I told you I’m in a hurry!” Bakugo’s eyes narrowed as Hawks took his time approaching him.

“Calm down dude. I told you I was in the middle of hero business. I even did an extra sweep on the way here looking for her. If you could just pull the stick out of your ass for two sec-“

Bakugo grabbed Hawks by his stupid jacket. For as tightly as he was gripping him, his voice somehow remained calm “That stick up my ass, is the fact that my girlfriend is missing. I’m sorry if that doesn’t seem to be a priority for you, but I refuse to give up until I find her. Now… are you going to listen to what I have to say, or am I just wasting my time?”

Hawks eyes went from surprised, to angry, to soft in the matter of seconds. But that’s what he does best right? Bakugo’s heard stories about how sneaky and manipulative Hawks can be. “Look I get it, you’re worried. I can’t even pretend to understand how deep this goes. Aizawa told me about your little link to her or whatever… sounds intense.”

Bakugo’s dropped his hands back to his sides and grunted, “It is. And it’s also none of your business So, are you going to help or what?”

Hawks put his hand on Bakugo’s shoulder and tried to give it a reassuring squeeze. “I promise you. I’ll do everything I can to bring her home safe.”

**************** Y/N POV*******************************

“You want me to what?”

You were currently wrapped in a blanket looking at Dabi as if he had lost his mind. Which in your defense he probably had.

“Exactly what I said. I want you to try and heal yourself as you’re getting hurt. Do your freaky little eye glowy thing you do when you heal yourself before I actually hurt you. See if it helps counteract it.” He was reaching a hand out to you now, and you noticed they were starting to smoke a little.

You jumped away from him, “Please don’t. I thought you said we were done with that for today?” You frantically looked around for a place you could hide from him. You could lock yourself in the bathroom. But then he’d probably just kick the door down… or melt the handle.

Your gaze snapped back to his, he looked like he was having fun. “Besides it’s hard to stop my shift once I start to go into Alpha mode.”

Dabi smirked at you, “Okay well as much as I’m dying to see what that looks like. Can you just…not? I mean you said you heal faster as a human right?”

You shook your head, “I mean, technically I do. But I think that’s just because my human body is easier to hurt. My wolf form is more… I don’t know. Durable, I guess. Katsuki collapsed a whole ass mountain on me once during training. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, but I survived.”

Dabi nodded as he uncharacteristically took interest in what you were saying. “Ok so your wolf form can take more damage, but you heal faster human… And this has nothing to do with your “Alpha mode” or whatever?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You look like you have an idea… and usually your ideas hurt.”

“Relax weenie. I’m just trying to think this through. I’m trying to find out if there is a way to combine your wolf strength, with your human healing. Can you go into Alpha mode without shifting?”

You scoffed, “Where you not just listening. Going into Alpha mode is what triggers my shift. I can do it for small bursts of time as long as I reign it back in fast enough. But no longer than a minute.”

He threw his hands in the air in exasperation, “You say that as if it’s a well known fact. I fucking met you like two days ago. I don’t even know what the difference between Alpha mode and the rest of you even is.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, “If it’s not something that I do through the pack bond then I need to use Alpha mode. So shifting. Alpha commands. My senses are already naturally heightened but they’re even more so in Alpha Mode. Then there’s the speed, strength, and like I said the durability. And yes, technically healing is a part of that, but that’s something that over time just became a subconscious thing. Hence why I do it more in my human form.”

He walked over to you and tugged on the blanket, “Okay, well you said you could use it in short bursts. Do you think you could focus on just the durability part? Could you make that a subconscious thing too?” He yanked the blanket away from and pressed a hot palm on your bicep and squeezed.

You squeezed your eyes shut as they began to water. It wasn’t burning, not yet, but it was hot enough to be uncomfortable. “Look I’m getting really sick of your shit. You keep pushing me like this and one of us is going to end up dead, and it’s not going to be the one who can heal themselves.” When you opened your eyes again they were glowing. Your anger was quickly becoming the only emotion you could feel.

“Good girl. Now-“

“NO!” You snapped at him. “You don’t get to call me a good girl.” You grabbed his hand and yanked it back away from your arm. “You don’t get to beat me and berate me, and then buy me chicken nuggets and think everything is okay.” You could feel yourself start to slowly shift, your teeth coming to a point, your claws start to poke through your fingernails. “Because I am NOT YOUR GOOD GIRL!” You felt the familiar tingle go down your spine, signally you were about to shift.

“Whatever you do, don’t shift! Hold that as long as possible.” He was totally ignoring your outburst. “Start trying to heal yourself.”

You growled, “Heal myself? I’m not hurt you lunatic.”

A burning sensation engulfed the hand you were using to hold his wrist. “You are now… Now try again. Start healing yourself. Before I do anything. I want to test something out.”

****************BAKUGO POV***********************************

The whole meeting has just been one big game. Hawks fed Bakugo lies about the progress he’s made looking for you. While Bakugo lied about his suspicions of you packing up for America. Both men secretly trying to get the other to slip up and admit what they know.

Bakugo’s teeth were grinding so hard he was surprised his teeth hadn’t cracked.

Hawks was in the middle of another bullshit lie when two familiar people approached the table and took a seat on either side of Bakugo. “Oi! What the fuck are you doing here?”

Hawks smirked, “Oh I hope you don’t mind. They were worried about you, so I asked them to meet us.”

Kirishima and Midoriya were both giving him worried, sympathetic looks to which Bakugo rolled his eyes. “I told you idiots I would check in later tonight.”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, but you didn’t look so hot when we left you this morning. Plus, we feel bad for ditching you for graduation.”

Midoriya pipped in, “What kind of hero’s would we be if we can’t even help find our own friend. But we’re here now and we’re ready to help in any way we can.”

Bakugo’s nerves were already too fried to even start to argue with Midoriya. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, knowing otherwise he was going to blow the building up. When he opened his eyes though, Hawks was gone. “WHAT THE FUCK?! WHERE DID THE CHICKEN SHIT GO?!”

**********************************************************************

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#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha bakugou #bhna bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia #bakugou x fem!reader

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whatsyourcolor · 4 years ago

Text

Dragnet - Chapter 9 - Kingdom of Thieves.

Read on Ao3

Thank you to those of you that are still reading Dragnet! In previous chapters Kogami and Akane conducted a mission that resulted in technology malfunctioning, suspicions arising and Akane almost getting killed. Kogami broke up their short-lived (or so he thinks) association for reasons and emotions still confusing to him. Here’s Chapter 9:

KINGDOM OF THIEVES

Pliable, suspiciously warm, the sofa's leather cushions in the analysis lab sank underneath Kogami's weight, comfort suffusing his tense limbs like an anxiolytic. Undoubtedly, Kunizuka had made a routine pitstop here prior to heading to the interrogation room with Ginoza for another round of fruitless grilling. Which would explain the mellow, secret melody Shion was humming as she typed away on her keyboard. At least someone in Division 1 was having fun. Banished from the interrogation room and having severed the only connection he had to that other world, lulls of silent anticipation such as this had become nearly intolerable for him because, like a stray dog, his mind would go—insistently, shamelessly—back to her.

If only his ruminations had been centered in the pragmatic aspects of their relationship (what was her exact link to the syndicates? When did it start? And why?), he could have forgiven himself more easily. But it was the way his name sprung from her direct mouth, and how it meant she was not cross with him (as opposed to Inspector), and that furrowed brow each time she sermonized about things not unlike those he’d spend hours perusing in books—things he had strictly forbidden himself to linger on; things he’d never dream to speak about out loud. It was her scrutiny, never sub rosa. Not when she looked at him with unabashed eyes, not searching for a weakness or a fault—he suspected—but for something like a virtue, something that would warrant their unlikely partnership in her eyes.

So what did it mean for him to be sitting here while she was still out there, meandering in the dark? Stubbornly continuing this, insisting on this, and she would lose more than her hue. Kogami palmed the cellphone inside his pocket and then thought better of it because—what right did he have to care? To ask anything from her? Who was he in her life but an accident of chance? Or, perhaps, had his threats managed to compel her, and had she gone back to an ordinary life where she didn’t want to change the world? No, he thought sullenly. Even I know that about you. But it’s not like you’re alone either, is it, Tsunemori? Not that it makes you any safer.

On a large screen, a corner-side vantage of the dark interrogation room. Light spilled from a lamp above onto a table as a cuffed man swaggered in like a circus bear that's figured out the master's whip is made of hay. A braggart's smirk splashed across his face as he flumped on a chair. Kogami perched his elbows on his legs, interlaced hands under his nose to summon all his objective focus on the screen, but all he could think about was how much he'd love to pummel that sneer off again.

"A different species of inspector today," proclaimed the Arumajiro man, all affected bravado to Gino's bespectacled, sober professionalism. Still bearing the marks Tsunemori had gouged on his tattooed skin, he slammed his arms on the table, presumably to stir a wince from Ginoza, who only blinked with imperturbable disdain. "And you even brought a woman to protect you. That a habit of Sibyl's dogs?"

"The type of technology found in the interior of the truck you and your comrades were riding on is not something that can be built with metal scraps scavenged from Ougishima,” Gino said with no inflection in his voice. "Who is funding your association?"

The man acknowledged the question with a caustic snort for answer, a sort of growl. His eyes slithering over the less illuminated corners of the room—methodically, as if searching for something.

“He’s watching, ain’t he?” he eventually muttered. “He wouldn’t miss this.”

"You'll have enough time to look at walls when you go to the isolation facility. No need to strain your eyes so hard on these,” Gino spat back. “Answer the question. Your syndicate knew about the crackdowns by the MWPSB. How did you acquire a signal jammer? Who programmed it?"

"Inspectors in the blocks," the man began in a low voice. "You lot stick out like a pack of wild hens running around with your dominators. Of course, everyone always knows when you're there, with your holos and your drones. You’re not exactly low-key, you know? The eyes of Sibyl might see us only when they want to, but we’re always watching.”

"And so your syndicate figured they'd try to go undetected and invest on an illegal piece of technology impossible to acquire within the abolition blocks.”

"Impossible,” the man echoed as if mulling the meaning of the word. As if, Kogami thought, what a Sibyl detective would deem impossible, even preposterous in his world, was something that acquired a different value where he came from. A perverse grimace spread on the man’s face, a sort of smiling frown full of certitude. "Nothing is impossible in the abolition blocks. Not anymore.”

“Not exactly a charmer when he finally decides to talk, is he?” Shion drawled with a slow plume of smoke, her profile silhouetted by blue light in the haze. “What could he possibly mean?”

"At least he's taunting us now,” Kogami murmured dryly. “But I don’t perceive urgency in his behavior. No negotiation or surrender. If he’s decided to talk it must be for more than dull temporizing, though I don’t think his objective is to necessarily give us what we want.”

“Hmm. Who knows.” Shion gave an affected gasp. “Could it be he likes Ginoza better?”

Kogami chuckled softly, and Shion smiled, proud of herself. He figured he probably had been looking as dismal as he felt.

“Definitely,” he acknowledged with a cool sigh, lifting himself up from the softness of the sofa, and starting to hanker for a smoke. He shoved the flaps of his navy windbreaker aside and thrust his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Gino can be a darling when he wants to. But I should head over there now. Might as well put some pressure now he’s talking.”

“I thought Ginoza said—”

“I know. I know he instructed all of you to keep me at bay. But this case might be bigger than we think and I can’t just wait idly by.”

Shion exhaled coolly, swiveling her chair toward her station again. “Very well. Just be careful.”

Freely, brashly for an interrogation, the man went on blathering on the screen. “But impossible things have been happening. People disappearing. Tunnels hidden behind holo. Miracles, even. The last of which involved a woman intercepting a truck in the tunnels, armed with nothing but a bat—so what I’ve been wondering is, how did the excellent and competent MWPSB get a double-crossing bitch to do their job for them?”

Doors glided open in front of him as Kogami’s step came to a standstill. Jaw clenching, he whirled round to face the grainy image of the man again.

“You’d do well to remember I’m the one asking questions here,” Ginoza retorted impatiently, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t an exchange of particulars between two commensurate parties. This is an interrogation, and your time is running out.”

The man leaned in over the table and Kunizuka’s back went upright, her hand circling around her waist as a warning. “You see,” he said. “I can’t help but be intrigued as to how a single woman gained the trust of the underground resistance and helped them against the syndicates, all while working with the police.”

Kogami stiffened. Was that the reason behind Tsunemori’s ironclad secrecy? Did the man not kill her only because he was working information out of her? Even if Kogami had entertained a similar notion before—with her overt spurning of the system and her criminal consorts—something in him refused to admit that she could be, for lack of a better word, his enemy. But if what was being said was true, then the accusations he’d hurled at her—the same ones that had been tormenting him since he’d said them—may have been wholly understating.

“Justice for traitors and informers, know what that is? That wretched girl hanging from a wire in the ports of Ougishima where anyone else with funny ideas can see. Or worse—No. Better—her chained to a bed in the filth of a brothel. See that pretty hue turn black.” The man spoke slowly but without pause, in his visage a pained expression that evoked menace in lieu of sorrow. “Imagine, if you can, in a place crawling with people both desperate to cleanse their sins and itching for something unsullied to defile, just what coveted merchandise a clear-hued Sib would be. Not just any Sib, no. A plant by the MWPSB. A traitor. Hell, for all we know it might be her own people that get her first.”

With clenched fists, Kogami made his way back toward the screen. It wasn’t that the man’s tirade didn’t incense him greatly, considering to whom his poisoned darts were being aimed. But there was something else: the fact that he spoke as if he wasn’t in Sibyl’s claws. In his claws.

“That brat is too smart for her own good. Messing with things she don’t understand. Stealing things that don’t belong to her. Out of all the crummy chumps the so-called resistance has produced, this one might be the trickiest one. Should’ve snuffed her out when I had the chance.”

“This resistance,” Ginoza cleared his throat, “is it an anti-governmental group?”

The man stared superciliously, almost amused. “You Sibs think the blocks are seedbeds of chaos where the scum of society oozes like a weeping blister in your clean world. It’s not for me to deny it. I’ve seen men rip out each other’s guts over a cigarette. I’ve slain many more myself, men and women, for less than that. Why? You worried the pus might spill onto your streets? You afraid hearing these things will make you catch that disease?” A spark of relish in his eye. “What if I told you there’s a cure for that?”

“A—a cure? A cure for what?”

“The illness of evil—the illness the Sibyl system diagnosed for the rest of us. In fact, I’ll prove it to you right now,” the man invited with an almost affable tone. “Point your dominator at me.”

“What? What are you talking abou—H-Hound 2! No one ordered you to withdraw your dominator!”

Kunizuka, arm fully extended next to Ginoza’s face, had her sights aimed directly at the space between the eyebrows of the Arumajiro man. “I’m sorry, Inspector. This is the only language men like these speak.” A heavy mute second was filled with Ginoza’s eyes flitting from the dominator, to the man, back to Kunizuka until at last, haltingly, she lowered her arm and her jaw dropped with shock. “Th-There has to be a mistake. We checked his hue this morning and it was—a-and besides, he just said—”

Kogami didn’t wait to hear the rest. He bolted out of the analysis lab and down the corridor in the direction of the emergency stairs. His mind raced. One victim found dead in a factory. A second victim mauling herself to death in Nona Tower. Disparate timelines and intervals in both casualties, as if the pill’s dual mechanism could be detonated at a distance, at will. It made no sense. He hurtled down endless flights of stairs many floors below, gnawing despair lodged deep in his stomach. He’d seen him strangling her. He’d tried to drown him. No doubt he was a murderer. It couldn’t be. Nausea and doom had overtaken him by the time he tore past the doors of the last hallway and turned the last corner, silvered walls bouncing all around him as he caught sight of his mark leaving the interrogation room behind Ginoza and Kunizuka. He couldn’t see or hear until his hands were on the man. Until he felt other hands trying to pull him away.

“Shepherd 2! Get a hold of yourself!” Ginoza thundered, forcefully jostling against him. “Stop this right now! Kogami!”

“You fucking bastard,” Kogami growled, both hands yanking the manacled Arumajiro man by his threadbare shirt. “You know about the pill. You know what it is. You’re gonna tell me everything even if I have to kick it outta you!”

“Seems like someone’s found the antidote to Sibyl,” the tottering man hissed back, reveling in Kogami’s stunned expression. “Whatever it is you want to call it.”

“Yeah?” Kogami’s grip was taut on the collar around the man’s neck. “Then you must know about its side effects. Does that make you smile also?”

“I’d be more worried about that hue of yours, Inspector. I’d even go as far as advising you to choose your friends and allies wisely. Before she ruins you.”

A sobering shudder ran through Kogami.

“Search for her,” he rasped with bared teeth, “touch her again, and I swear I’ll find you and kill you with my own hands!”

“That’s enough of that!” Masaoka shouted from somewhere. Next thing he knew, Sasayama was there too, shouldering his way between them, tearing Kogami off as Kunizuka and Gino pulled the man away. Still, Kogami shoved and kicked and cursed as the man crossed the threshold of a door shutting closed, and then his vision went askew as a sharp pain had him hunching down and looking at the ground, immobilized.

“You need to cool down, son.” Masaoka tightened his armlock and Kogami heard himself pant helplessly, his forehead beading with sweat.

“Don’t you realize,” Kogami grunted through the pain, “that’s the one lead we have in this case?”

“And what good will it do if you end up in a rehabilitation facility?” Sasayama’s shoes came into view and Kogami was just able to shift his head up to shoot a glare at him. “How is pulling this bullshit gonna help you catch him then?”

There was the slow squeak and hush of a door opening and closing again.

“I hope you know this is all your influence, Sasayama,” Ginoza roared. “And if you think I won’t have a few words to say about you in the report of this incident, then you’re awfully misguided.” Masaoka loosened the grip of his metallic arm, and Kogami yanked his own free. He straightened up to meet the withering, unforgiving gaze of his partner. “Masaoka, go assist Kunizuka in the discharge of the witness. Kogami, you and I need to talk.”

“Gino, we can’t let him go,” Kogami protested with a gruff voice. “You saw what just happ—”

“Would you rather we do this in the presence of the Chief?”

Kogami squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to steady himself, but rage still boiled inside of him. “Fine,” he grumbled with frustration. “Fine.”

---------

Outside of Nona Tower the sun had set but the city was blazing like it was the middle of the day. A shine as artificial as that of the abolition blocks, though sleeker, clearer, new. Not the dizzying red and yellow twilights that led the way through the narrower, angular alleys of the abolition blocks, nor the darkened hollows and crannies where eyes and knives glinted. From a holographic billboard the large face of a woman donned in traditional garb gazed at him, her pale face dissolving into a pink forest, carpeted with what looked like pink snow. The next thing he noticed was that there was no distinct smell.

He walked the stretch of the plaza. Guardedly. Drawing near to where another hologram had attracted a multitude, but still keeping a cautious distance, he stood to watch. Three large fish swam in a hoop, floating in sync until one of them broke the formation to playfully pursue the others, making a squealing sound similar to that of rats, but louder and full of delight. Something like a fog, a vague sensation taking form, disturbed him. A nebulous recollection from years ago, of childhood in the blocks. A discoloured picture of animals like these nailed to a cracking wall. A wrinkled old lady calling him evil before falling with a thud. He remembered her body being warm even after he’d withdrawn his knife more times than he could count. The eyes in the eyes of his first kill looking deep into him and then…nothing. It’s cold, he thought, and that’s why I’m shivering. He peered at the crowd. Oblivious onlookers and their marveled profiles. His gaze drifted upwards and behind the surrounding skyscrapers. They didn’t know a few kilometers from here people burned. Soon they would.

He pivoted to two pairs of gawking eyes pegged on him. Youngsters. They approached him with slimy passivity, before gushing admiringly.

“Woah, mister, you really went out of your way with that cosplay! See? I told you the tattoos weren’t holo!”

“Of course they’re holo! How do you think he’d show to work with those tattoos? But isn’t the convention until next February though? If it was today I’m sure he’d win first prize!”

He snarled at the two pests, which only seemed to excite them more. A flashing light blinded him for a second, and before he could curse them out, they were scuttling away. It was then he took notice of the woman wearing a red long coat standing beside him.

“Do you actually know where you’re going, Igarashi-san?”

Unblemished skin. Long, silky hair. Almond eyes evenly shaped with a strange green sheen to them, and a thin, pointy nose. An enigmatic smile that could’ve been wider but wasn’t.

“Choe Gu-sung?”

“I knew Makishima-san was right to put his trust in the Arumajiro.”

“Your holo is too perfect,” Igarashi answered with blunt disdain. “No one looks like that.”

“That may be true in the abolition blocks, but as you can see, people love illusions here.”

Minutes later they were driving through the elevated highways of Tokyo. A light rain fell aslant, pins of purple and pink hitting on the windshield of the driverless vehicle. Igarashi kept a wary side-eye on Makishima’s lackey sitting beside him, though underneath that stupid holo he was more unreadable than usual. Not that he didn’t understand how such concealment was necessary for serious matters, but it pissed him off that important work should fall on the lap of a foreigner out of all people.

“I hope your doubts about our plan are settled now, Igarashi-san,” said Choe Gu-sung as if reading his mind, the faintest hint of mockery in his voice.

“Our plan requires certain arrangements we’ll overlook for the moment, but I know the Arumajiro won’t be so sparing afterwards.”

“It’s precisely that ruthlessness that Makishima found so compelling for this project to start with. In this brave new world of Sibyl, few men are willing to go where the Arumajiro go, and so your clan is instrumental for what needs to be done.”

All the sickly ass-licking made Igarashi turn his face toward the city flashing past. “To think you’re the first person to

address me by my name since I was arrested,” he muttered with disgust.

Once they had arrived at the high-rise hotel, an elegant wooden door embellished with the metal knocker of a spider admitted them into a vast suite decked out with fine furnishings. A low gray sofa with plush cushions half-mooned around a glass table where a steaming cup of tea had been set. An open book rested onto the lid of a black piano, and above it, a strange light fixture glittered from the ceiling like a dancing bride. Igarashi was becoming acutely aware of the thick, green rug underneath his tatty boots, but unlike him, the silver-haired man contemplating Tokyo out of the ceiling-to-floor windows fit into the room perfectly. Deceptively.

“I’m glad you made it out safely, Igarashi-san.”

Obscured on the reflection, Makishima’s features betrayed his otherwise harmless semblance as a truer, more sinister face smiled at Igarashi from the glass. Long gone was his first impression of a wealthy, over-spoilt child uttering words of revolution because, where the pointless, clumsy violence of the blocks rose and fell with no consequence or significance, Makishima had given them the means to overthrow an evil bigger than all the gangsters of the underground.

“The MWPSB has an informer in the blocks. That’s how they were able to get us. It’s Lemonade Candy.”

Piqued by his words, Makishima looked briefly over his shoulder. “The mastermind of the resistance works with the MWPSB,” he said, turning again toward the city. “How interesting. It only makes it the more impressive for you to have survived such a predicament, being attacked, as you were, by both sides.”

“It was one of their own group who gave them away. An unregistered who’d worked for Bunzo.” Igarashi’s fingers trailed the soft fabric on the arm of the sofa without daring to sit. “Wanted to settle a score or somethin’. Went mad, and for a moment there I really thought we’d turned the tables on her.”

“Her, you said?”

“Lemonade Candy is a twenty-something woman. Small and thin as a reed. And still the bitch was able to take out our lights singlehandedly and then escape through one of their hidden tunnels. We followed, and for a moment I had her, until an inspector showed up.”

“She ensnared you,” murmured Makishima. “She used herself as bait knowing you’d follow her. What appeared like recklessness at a cursory glance, was a calculated gamble.” He turned around and ambled across the room, feathery and lithe, with hands in his pockets. “We’re not the only ones with the will to choose to bet, it seems.”

Again there was that mysterious smile on Makishima’s lips and, like an obedient disciple, Igarashi felt the irresistible urge to supply more. “The resistance is not our biggest problem. Getting the syndicate to get rid of her now that I’ve seen her should be easy. But there’s also the police. That detective, especially. He don’t seem the type to let go of things.” An ear-to-ear grin spread on his face. “And he’s a hot head for that woman. Nearly slugged me when I mentioned her to him. Threatened to kill me, even.”

“Are they not merely enforcers?”

“No,” Igarashi assured with a sharp shake of his head. “He’s the one who’s been interrogating me. Or trying to, at least. Today I heard his partner refer to him as Kogami. As for the woman…haven’t seen her since that night.”

“Kogami,” Makishima echoed with flash of eagerness in his amber eyes. “Are there still humans in this city who are not afraid of themselves, I wonder? And, if so, is it a coincidence that we happened to lure two of them out of hiding? Is this what the sentimentalist calls ‘destiny’?”

Across from him, Choe Gu-sung ambled over and sat on the other side of the sofa where he opened a laptop. He’d remained so quiet, Igarashi had but completely forgotten about his presence, and his appearance, now devoid of holo, glared like a sour reminder. He began typing something hurriedly.

“They’re vermin—that’s what they are,” crossing his arms, Igarashi commented while looming over Choe. “All those who can’t rise by their own strength deserve to be squashed like roaches. It’s the rule of the world. Eat or be eaten.”

“You know, Igarashi-san,” Makishima lingered by the piano, slowly turning over the pages of the book. “I’ve always admired men like you. The ones who agitate the whole world through the sheer strength of your desire. If the world sings blue, you’ll force it to sing red until it matches your vision. A common man in an uncommon world. Please,” his eyes rose from the page to watch him intently. “Understand that this is the deepest of compliments. You see, in this sterile, plastic world, that type of primal life force has been forgotten. The human animal domesticated, his soul depurated, sterilized, until he became nothing more than the ruins of what he once was—and ruins are only beautiful after a great war. Anything else is…mockery.”

“Well, that’s the way of the blocks. The only way we know. And now, thanks to you, these things will be ours too.” Not until he said it did it seem true to Igarashi—that they would rule over this world just like they ruled over the underground. Dominators, cymatic scanners and drones could not stop them anymore, and the weak children of Sibyl would succumb just like their evil mother. “And even the enemies of the Arumajiro won’t mind it if it means destroying this system.”

“You are correct. Anger has an interesting way of vitalizing people in ways no other need or cause does, notwithstanding how pure or lofty. That vein those spurned by the system share is what the Sibyl system has cut off and anesthetized, to the extent where the masses can’t even recall it ever being there. Their senses lay dormant as if they could truly exist as humans without them. Others even claim to want to live forever. But what value does a life have when it’s benumbed and protected from the knowledge of its own mortality? When it loses all primitive instincts in a beautiful cage where there’s no danger? As in the yesteryear, we need men like you to remind us what it means to be alive.”

In more ways than he could understand, Makishima’s words made Igarashi feel strangely satisfied. Comforted, even. Never before had he thought of his life in any aspect beyond, well, living. What for was a question that hadn’t occurred to him. But for all the things he’d seen and done, he never would have guessed it’d be this man the one to weave meaning into his life.

“Do you know what intrahistory is, Igarashi-san?”

Choe Gu-sung’s annoying typing made it difficult for him to hear the question. “Huh?”

“Intrahistory,” Makishima continued as he ran his finger down a yellowed page in the book, “Is the history that’s left outside of the books. Think of it as the blank margins on the paper. It’s the story of the nameless people who made history but who are never mentioned. Without them, History with a capital H is unconceivable.”

Igarashi gave a sly smile. “Is that the people from the blocks?”

“Indeed. The men who wrought the world and thrust it forward through blood and fire. You can see why the system made sure we never hear about them. Those who dare to be the actors of their own existence have no need for Sibyl.”

“Like the Arumajiro in the blocks.”

Makishima closed the book carefully. “Like the gladiators who died devoured by the lions under the impassive eyes of an Emperor. Or the soldiers in the vanguard bringing us closer to victory with their sacrifices. The anonymous martyrs who enrage the survivors. The strongest within the strong.”

It was quiet now. Choe Gu-sung had abruptly stopped his noise. A bizarre, undeniable aura of expectation hung in the air. Igarashi swallowed something he’d not felt in years down his parched throat, his mind scrambling to decipher what Makishima was getting at with his incessant blabber.

“Violence can be captivating, even beautiful. But like any art, when it’s empty, it’s hopelessly corrupted and vulgar. You do not need to worry about that, Igarashi-san. I’ll be sure to make your sacrifice meaningful.”

Dread surged in Igarashi like a freezing chill. “What the hell are you talking about?” he murmured. He’d kill the two of them. He could take them both easily, rip them apart with his hands, bludgeon them to death.

With a flourish, Choe Gu-sung made a single clicking sound on his keyboard, and Igarashi felt his body drop and crash into the glass table. A hail storm of white particles infested his vision, followed by a green crooked line and a tea cup rolling on the floor. Beyond that, Makishima’s feet trod toward him with the precision of a ropewalker, and he felt fear.

“I know you don’t like this gruesome part, Choe. You may go.”

Igarashi’s wild eyes tried to meet the mechanical eyes of the hacker, but he couldn’t move because a rumbling began inside his body; his blood boiling and searing and cauterizing from the inside. He clenched his teeth and grunted, his body growing rigid as pain travelled through his veins like a jagged marble—excruciating pain that made it impossible to think on anything except on it being over. With what little mind he had, he started wide-eyed at a slice of a window visible between Makishima’s legs, wishing with all his rotten heart he could jump from it. Then he heard himself howl a beast-like howl over and over again.

“’Alas, what is good and what is evil?’” Makishima said looking down on him. “’Are they both one single thing with which we furiously attest our impotence and passion to attain the infinite by even the maddest means? Or are they two different things? Yes…they had sooner be one and the same…for if not, what will become of me on Judgement Day?’”

#psycho-pass #dragnet #my fanfic #Akane Tsunemori #kogami shinya #makishima shogo #original character

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flamehairedwritings · 5 years ago

Text

The Fiancé: Chapter Four

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

Can I Tell You Confidentially, Ain’t You Sweet

MONDAY

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Steve mutters, leaning against the wall and looking out of the window, Sam the other side.

Staring down at the seemingly growing crowd, his agitation is growing with it, but all he can think about is how you must be feeling.

He’d nearly hurled his phone into the God damn Reflecting Pool when Fury had told him.

“Now, hang on a second, what?”

“This is a great opportunity to find out who these guys are and stop them, Steve.”

He’d scoffed, a hand on his hip as he’d paced. “So we’re putting a civilian’s life in danger, my civilian friend’s life in danger, who not only has absolutely no training in any kind of operation but is also just an innocent human being?”

A sigh had come through the line. “Steve... What these groups are talking about doing is getting worse, and they’re recruiting, not just people to assassinate you but for other operations as well around the world.”

His jaw had moved as he’d stopped, staring into the water. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.”

“Nick, I can’t see—”

“This isn’t a request, Steve, it’s an order.”

So here he is, a soldier with his orders, putting his friend’s life on the line for his own... And even though they’d appeared to give you one, you hadn’t really had much of a choice.

He hates it. But... as Nat had said, you couldn’t be safer. Part of him was actually relieved that you would now officially be under the watchful eye of SHIELD and the best agents he’d ever known, especially after the letter he’d received.

Sam shifts, mirroring Steve with his folded arms. “Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he murmurs. Shaking his head, he looks to him. “Only for six days, man. Just keep tellin’ yourself that, six days.”

Steve releases a breath, a muscle in his jaw moving. “Yeah, ‘cause nothing goes to shit in six days, huh.”

—

“I’m coming over the moment work finishes, if I can get out of the damn building.”

You lick your lips, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you carry a box to your bedroom door.

“Uh, actually, Bridge’, I’m packing right now.”

“You’re packing? Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re eloping, I want to be there!”

“No, no, we’re just moving in together.”

Just.

“Oh my God, your place or his?”

“Uh... a new place.” You lift a suitcase onto your bed, unzipping it.

“Where?”

“I’m not sure, actually, Steve’s chosen a place.” You move to your wardrobe, stare at it for a second and then grab an armful of clothes and turn, dropping them onto your bed.

“Ugh, it’s like he’s gifting you an apartment, that’s amazing. Oh, Y/N...” You pause your half-hearted folding of a sweater at Bridget’s sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Licking your lips, you place the sweater in the suitcase. “Well, we’re... we’re such good friends that we wanted to keep it a secret, just in case it didn’t work out so it wouldn’t be weird with our friends or for anyone. And, you know... the whole world seems to think it can be involved, as we’d, uhm, as we’d expected.“

You hear them hiss. “I know, I can’t believe what some people are writing, it’s such trash.”

“Yeah.” You haven’t dared to check the notifications that have been making your phone buzz, even as you’ve been speaking to Bridget, and their angry tone doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence.

As you fold another sweater, you hear the clicking of a computer mouse on the other end, and then Bridget gasping. “Oh my God, is the ring really from Tiffany’s?!”

“Uh...” You glance at the ring on your fourth left finger. The ring Nat had removed from a box she’d taken out of her coat pocket and unceremoniously handed to you, telling you to put it on. You have absolutely no idea where it’s from. Does SHIELD just have a storeroom full of these? Does Nat? “... I don’t actually know, Bridge’, but, you know me, I’m not really bothered by that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, I know. Is it new? Old? What does it look like?”

You continue to stare at the alien object. “It’s... silver. And new. Got a diamond in the middle, three smaller ones either side, going down the band.”

“Ugh, simple and elegant, love it. Can you send me a picture?”

“As soon as I’m done packing.”

“Good. And let me know where you’re moving to, please! I want to drop by unexpectedly every day.”

“Oh, I will as soon as I know.” Having finished folding, you zip the suitcase up and place a hand on it, exhaling a short breath.

There’s a small pause.

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I just...” You rub your forehead before making yourself smile even though they can’t see it. “... This is just all happening so fast and it’s a lot, truthfully.”

“Oh, I bet. You know we all love and support you here, right?”

That makes your smile soften. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re still okay for drinks with me and Doll’ on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

I fucking hope it’s okay, I know I’m gonna need those drinks and giggles.

“Good, we’ll blow off some steam then.”

Hauling the suitcase off the bed, your eyes dart to the door as someone knocks on it.

“Come in,” you say, raising your voice slightly.

It opens and Sam appears, smiling. “Hey, you ready?”

“Just about.” You pass the suitcase to him, him lifting it like it weighs nothing, and the expected sharp inhale comes from the other end of the line.

“Is Sam there?” Bridget whispers.

Your lips twitching, you nod as you say, “Yeah, Bridge’, Sam’s here.”

The man of the moment pauses, looking back at you as his lips lift higher. “You’re talkin’ to Bridge’?”

“Yep.” You have to control your smile.

“How, uh, how’re they doin’?”

“How are you doing, Bridge’?” you ask, raising your eyebrows slightly as you hear them clear their throat.

“Uh, tell him I’m fine, thank you... And that I would like to have a secret engagement with him,” they finish in the quietest of whispers that has your lips twitching again.

“They say they’re fine, thank you.”

Sam nods, pauses for another moment before he moves to turn again.

“Oh, hey,” you say, a wholesomely sneaky idea coming to you. “Sam, why don’t I give you Bridget’s number, then you two can plan the respective bachelor and bachelorette parties together?”

Bridget’s almost squeal of an inhale gives you their answer as Sam looks at you and grins. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Oke doke, I’ll give it to you in a bit.” You smirk to yourself as Sam heads into the hallway.

There’s half a second before Bridget launches into a speech. “Oh my God, I love you so damn much, I’m gonna throw you the best damn party ever, I’ll get you whatever you want, whoever you want...”

Okay, maybe I can joke about with this situation now... Just with myself.

—

It takes you twenty-five minutes to pack. You haven’t packed much, only what you need for the week, and any food that will be going out of date soon, and it isn’t like you are actually moving out, so... the essentials it had been. Like you’re going on holiday. A bizarre, unwanted holiday. Nat has assured you there’s towels, cutlery, glasses, bedsheets, etc, all at the new place, you just need your clothes, toiletries, laptop, phone and anything else you might want to entertain yourself, her words. The last part had made you think of the box you keep under your bed, an array of toys you’ve accrued over the years inside.

... I mean... This is going to be a very stressful week... I’ll take just one... The silent, water-proof one.

That had disappeared into your backpack after you’d, quickly as you could, fumbled with the box and pulled it out and your toy cleaning wipes, sweating slightly as you’d heard the three of them moving around outside your door.

I will not humiliate myself further this week, no thank you.

Well, Nat would probably just nod in approval, Sam would probably actually do the same or just not even react, but Steve... There’s some things that you didn’t talk about, no matter how close you are.

Pulling your coat back on and the bag, hoping Nat doesn’t want to rifle through it this time, you step out of your bedroom, closing the door.

“So, what now?” you ask as they turn to you, Steve carrying your suitcase, Sam holding two boxes in his arms, Nat typing on her phone.

She slips it into her pocket and clasps her hands together as she speaks, “We leave, quickly and safely as possible. Sam and Steve are gonna take your things and Steve’s and head down to the parking garage, Sam’s got his car there, and they’ll come a little behind us. You and I are gonna head out the front, draw some of the crowd away and head to the new place.”

“Right.” You can’t work out if this is nice or not, having someone else take over and make all the decisions. At any other time, you’d be railing and demanding an input, but with this situation...

Carry on, Nat.

“All right, let’s go,” she says, as if having heard your thoughts, and moves to the door, peering through the peep-hole, checking the hallway, before she opens it.

“See you later, Y/N,” Sam says with that lovely warm smile of his as he heads out and, actually, between remembering the people who are now going to be looking after you and having decisions taken away from you, you’re starting to relax a little.

You meet Steve’s gaze and smile as he raises his eyebrows a little. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at home, then,” he says, a smile pulling at his own lips.

“Yeah, I’ll put the kettle on,” you reply, making his smile widen a little more.

“I look forward to it.”

You watch him as he heads out and into his own apartment, Sam having already opened the door. As he closes it, Nat steps out into the hallway, gesturing for you to follow, and you obey. Pulling your door shut, you lock it and turn to her, your keys disappearing into your coat pocket and you zip it closed.

As you both head down the hall, she pulls her phone out and starts typing again, her thumbs moving rapidly. You press the button to herald the elevator, and grip the straps of your bag, staring at the closed outer doors.

You try not to think about anything in particular, but you’re definitely feeling a lot more mellow.

Just six days, I can do that. Six days is fine, it’ll fly by. I just won’t watch the news, stay off of social media as much as possible and keep my head down with whatever Nat plans for us to do. Steve’ll want that, too, it’ll be fine.

Cheered by your new resolve, you breathe a little easier as the elevator arrives and you step in after the doors open. Nat presses the button for the ground floor as she steps in and glances at the ceiling corners, probably looking for bugging devices.

Pushing her phone into her pocket as the elevator begins to descend, she leans against the back wall, folding her arms and looking at you.

“We’ve got a couple of agents in the crowd and in the building along the street, so don’t worry, we’ve got eyes from every angle.”

“Okay,” you answer, having to stop yourself from saying ‘thank you’ because you know she’ll just smirk and arch an eyebrow.

She pulls the sunglasses down from her head to settle over her eyes once more and you raise your eyebrows.

“... Can I ask, what’s with the glasses?”

“They scan people’s faces, log and check them on a database we have.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Facial recognition.

That unsettles you a bit.

Licking your lips, you look back at the doors. “Where is the new place?” you ask after a moment.

“Other side of town.”

She doesn’t elaborate. You don’t know why you even bothered asking.

The elevator slows and she straightens, glancing at you. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, clinging onto the calmness you’d felt only minutes before.

The doors open and you both step out. Aaron is stood close to the door, his hands on his belt, frowning, and there’s another guard with him, one you recognise as usually taking the night shift. Aaron must have called him... and as your eyes dart to the windows, you can see why. The faint, jolly music is still playing and it’s a bizarre juxtaposition to the muffled shouting and screaming from outside because the crowed have spotted you now. People are trying to peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows, craning their necks and shoving each other out of the way to get a better look at you, filming on their phones and trying to take pictures.

Aaron turns to you and gives you a small smile as you approach, Nat a step ahead.

“How’re we looking?” she asks him and from his blinking and surprised expression, you guess he isn’t one of the eyes she was talking about.

“Uh, well, no-one’s tried to get in, yet. Someone seemed as if they were about to follow someone who lives here in, but other’s started yelling at them that we could then call the police, so, seems like they’re seasoned.” He glances at you, giving you another smile.

You return it because, God, he’s probably not trained for this, and he’s such a nice guy.

“All right, well, they should go soon once they realise Steve and Y/N are moving.”

“You’re leaving?” He looks rather crestfallen as he meets your gaze again, and you don’t quite know what to do, but it’s left to you to say something because Nat’s moved off to the other guard.

Lying to him almost feels as bad as having to lie to your friends. He’s been working here for quite a few months now and he’s always ready to have a goofy laugh with you, especially when you come back from after-work drinks. It was always nice, too, to come back from a shitty day and see him, smiling and asking you how your day was.

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day,” he’d always say back, to the point where you both just ended up saying it together.

Do you just say bye? Do you give him your number, or promise to add him on Instagram or Facebook?

Yes, please.

Yeah, all right, you have a tiny bit of a crush on him, but it’s fine and you won’t ever act on it, so it’s fine.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say to him, offering a slightly sheepish smile.

Why am I apologising.

He smiles quickly, a beam that you’d come to enjoy seeing. “Well, I wish you luck with your new life, you two always seemed happy together, I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out.” He laughs and you make yourself join in.

Oh, it’s because it’s not truuueee...

“Thank you, Aaron, I appreciate that.” You pause for a second before continuing as you don’t know what else to say, “I’ll see you around.”

He nods. “Yeah, we follow each other on Instagram, so...”

“Do we?” Oh God, that’s embarrassing, as is the tone of surprise you hadn’t quite managed to stop. It’s like you’ve forgotten about him or don’t care, oh my God...

“Yeah, we...” He pauses to let out a chuckle. “You just took my phone that one time, when you came back from a friend’s birthday party, and followed yourself on my account, then promised you’d follow me which you did, so...”

Dolly’s birthday party. Tequila shots.

“Oh, right, yes, sorry, I remember.” Your face feels too warm. “Well, I’ll make sure to say hello.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles and takes a breath before clearing his throat “Goodbye, then, good luck with everything.”

“Thank you,” you answer, but he’s already turning and moving back towards the other guard, Nat giving him a brief smile as they pass each other and she returns to you.

Arching an eyebrow at you, a smirk hints at the corners of her mouth.

“Already initiating an affair?” she murmurs as she places a hand above your backpack, gently guiding you towards the door.

“Shut up,” you mutter, very much aware of how warm your face still is.

Her mood shifts the moment you’re in front of the door, the other guard gripping the handle, ready to open it.

“Okay, just keep moving towards the car, all right, don’t worry if you feel me pushing you, just keep your feet moving, and look straight ahead.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and from the corner of your eye you see her nod.

The guard opens the door and steps out, pushing people back, and then you’re out and through the door.

The moment you feel the cold air touch your skin, it’s pandemonium. People scream, cameras flash, and questions are yelled at you, so many you can’t even make them out properly. You keep your feet moving but your eyes are darting all over, trying to take it all in, there’s so many people. Your anxiety comes flooding back as the guard and Aaron try their best to keep people back and Nat keeps pushing you forward, silent. You just can’t believe they’re all here, in the freezing cold, just to see you.

Well, not just you.

“He’s not here! He’s not with her!” you hear a man shout next to you, making you flinch.

Suddenly, your hands are on Nat’s Corvette and you’re fumbling for the handle. Finding it and tugging it open, Aaron has to really push against a group beside you to allow you space to open it and so you can get in. With your bag still on your back, you slide into the seat and call a “Thank you!” to Aaron. He doesn’t get a chance to turn and acknowledge it as Nat closes the door and the group surges slightly, trying to press against the car. Keeping your eyes down, you lean forward to slide your backpack off and drop it between your feet.

Your hands shake slightly as you buckle your seatbelt, so you clasp them together in your lap once you’re done. It takes Nat a few more moments than last time to get round to her side, but then she’s there, swiftly getting in. Slamming the door shut, she secures her seatbelt and turns the engine on, the sound of it, luckily, making people step back.

Within moments, she’s pulling you both away and down the street. Staring through the wing mirror on your side, you’re grateful for the first time for her speed, knowing by the time the group scatters and gets into their cars or news vans that you’ll be blocks away.

Closing your eyes, you try and cheer yourself.

The hard part’s over. That’s it. You did it.

—

The hard part is definitely over.

This is the fanciest fucking place I’ve ever seen in my life.

You don’t think your mouth’s closed once from the moment you stepped into the building let alone your new penthouse.

It’s huge. All open-plan and white or stripped wood furniture, lush, thick, beige carpeting throughout, except in the kitchen where it’s polished stone, and the bathrooms where it’s white tile with thin flashes of gold. The dining room is decorated to a show-room standard, with a long, glass table and white cushioned chairs, cutlery set out waiting to be used. The living room, with its two ridiculously comfy beige couches, darker than the carpet, with terracotta blankets draped over them, a huge TV, brick fireplace, and intricately carved coffee table, meets the floor-to-ceiling windows and a glass door that opens out onto a balcony and a view of the city. A swinging chair and four, regular, but as equally comfy-looking, chairs are on it with a stone table, and to the right there’s a pool and more couches and a firepit. To the right of the living room area, behind a door, is a gym room, complete with, what you assume is state-of-the-art, equipment. The kitchen is to die for with its black marble counters and island, accompanied by stools to sit at, and the huge silver fridge and the white beech-wood cabinets and the bedrooms...

There’s two, one’s going to be yours, the other’s Steve’s. You very much agreed with Nat when she said, as you were the first here, that you get first pick but, truthfully, you’d have been over the moon with either of them. The one you have chosen, though, is the first one you come to after walking up the stairs. The king-sized bed is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever lain on, and the grey and white striped duvet and sheets are so soft. The wardrobe is a walk-in, you have your own en-suite, featuring a clawfoot bath, a huge shower and an ornate sink, and the windows in the bedroom are also floor-to-ceiling, the view gorgeous.

Maybe this will feel like a holiday, maybe this won’t be so bad after all, oh my God, even the toilet paper is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, I never want to leave...

As you finally pull yourself out of the room, you lean against the landing railing, gazing down at the open-plan floor below. It looks even more gorgeous from up here, perfect, coordinated, a dream.

Nat stands by the balcony door, talking to someone on her phone, and as you practically float down the stairs, she brings it to an end and hangs up, pushing it into her jeans pocket as a smile begins to form.

“So, everything is satisfactory for you, ma’am?”

“Oh, Nat, this is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.” Crossing the room, you sit on one of the couches, leaning back and looking at her. “How did you find this place?”

She folds her arms, leaning against the window. “We keep a few places on hold, just in case.”

Your head tilts forward, your eyes widening. “This place is a safe-house?!”

Her lips twitch. “Not anymore. Clint’ll be pissed.”

Before you can respond, the front door opens and you both turn, watching Steve and Sam enter. Sam lets out a whistle as he walks down the short hallway, his eyes wide. “Oh my God, can I move in?”

Grinning because this feels good, this feels nice to find it exciting rather than terrifying, you raise your eyebrows. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind, there’s probably room for ten people here.”

“Yeah, Sam snores, so I don’t think so,” Steve quips as he passes the other man, setting the three suitcases, one of them yours, he’d been carrying down by the kitchen archway. He seems just as impressed, though, if a bit more quietly so, his eyes roaming the interior. They arrive at you.

“You happy with it?” he asks, and it makes your chest ache with how sincerely he says it.

“Are you kidding me?” You maintain your grin, wanting to keep the tone light. “I can probably sleep in the wardrobe I have up there and there’s a pool outside.”

“It’s winter, Y/N,” Sam says, but he’s craning his neck to peer outside as he puts your two boxes on the kitchen island.

“It’s heated,” Nat says casually, making you and Sam gasp quietly.

I’m never leaving.

“Right,” Nat continues, moving away from the window as Sam takes her place, her arms still folded. “There’s food in the fridge and cupboards, plenty of towels in the downstairs bathroom cupboards, there’s a washing machine and tumble dryer in there, too, and I’m gonna advise you to not order take-out this week for safety purposes.”

If that’s the sacrifice I have to make to live here then fine.

“Steve, come with me, I’ll show you how the machines work, Sam you take Y/N’s things upstairs and help her unpack.”

“I know how a washing machine works, Nat,” Steve sighs even as he follows after her.

“Oh, not this one, trust me.”

Your gaze darting to meet Sam’s, you both grin.

“Please show me this wardrobe, I’m dyin’ to see it.”

Rising off the couch, you gesture towards the stairs with a flourish of your arm. “This way, then, please, sir.”

Striding across the floor, he grabs your suitcase in one hand and manages to carry both boxes in his other arm before turning to you. “Take me there, ma’am.”

You feel like a giddy child as you both head up the stairs, nearly running.

Nat shakes her head as they listen to you both and she meets Steve’s gaze, her lips twitching. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Even though she knows you nor Sam will be able to hear her in the bathroom she and Steve are stood in, she still softens her voice. “You okay, old man?”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other. “Yeah. It’s just gonna take some getting used to.”

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning against the washing machine, instructions forgotten, and she knows not needed. “I know this isn’t exactly how we planned on locating these guys but we couldn’t let this opportunity go—”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, a note of exasperation to it. “Fury said the same thing.”

She looks at him, the tightness in his jaw, despite how relaxed he appears. “She’s going to be safe,” she says gently after a few moments. “I know I don’t have to remind you, but we’re doing this for her, too.”

That makes him stiffen slightly, but she knows he needs an objective for this, something to fight for, something personal, his own life not being enough. He nods after a short pause, then his eyes meet hers and he gives an easy smile.

“You gonna show me how to use this thing or what, huh?”

—

You wish Nat and Sam could’ve stayed longer. Could’ve helped you both settle in, maybe even shown you how to operate the TV, even though you knew... Could’ve stayed longer because they helped to keep the excitement up.

The moment the door closed after they’d said their goodbyes, barely an hour after they’d arrive, said adamantly to call if either of you needed anything, and that the building was already being watched by agents, silence descended.

You’d both been stood by the front door to bid farewell, Steve holding it open, and you’d watched them cross the small circular foyer to the elevator that only someone with a passkey could get into and come to this floor with. You, Steve, Nat and Sam were the only people to have one. As the latter two disappeared, the elevator doors closing and Steve closed your own door and the silence came, you just looked at each other. You couldn’t think what to say, not quite in the mood to crack a joke, some of your energy having left you. Steve had appeared to feel the same way, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gave a light smile.

As the silence went on a second too long, you had returned his smile, though wider, and made some excuse about having promised to video call Dolly and Bridget to show them the place. He’d just nodded and joked about keeping out of the way.

You hate this. Hate that there’s some kind of... disconnect between you two now, though, you hope, you’re the only one to feel it. You don’t want to become awkward strangers to each other, you don’t want to feel uncomfortable and embarrassed every time you want to speak to him because how the hell are you going to get through the week? Or beyond it? You know it’s all your own doing, your own insecurities and embarrassment holding you back, but you just need... a few minutes to adjust.

The video call with your friends doesn’t exactly help. They’d gasped and squealed at everything you’d showed them, so delighted and excited for their friend, and you don’t know where you’d found the energy from to be ‘on’, to be at their level, and the level of an excited, engaged woman. You had quickly excused yourself after half an hour, though, saying you and Steve still have some things to unpack.

You hate lying to them. You hate it so much.

You'd felt tears pricking at your eyes as you’d waved goodbye, catching their blown kisses like you usually would but unable to return them with quite the same goofiness. If they’d have asked, you just would have said you were tired, which wouldn’t have been a complete lie.

When you end the call and drop your phone onto your bed, you close your eyes, wiping at them after a moment to eradicate any stray tears.

Six days. Just six days. And it’s to help save your best friend’s life.

Changing into a sweater and pyjamas trousers, you leave your room, your phone held in one hand. A quick glance around as you descend the stairs shows no sign of Steve, but as you reach the bottom you hear sounds of a machine in the gym room despite the door being closed. You leave him to it, knowing he’s probably got his own adjustments to reckon with.

Despite his status, he’s still a private guy, and he probably hates the limelight now being shone on him once more.

There comes the guilt again, gnawing at you from the inside, and swiftly comes the challenge that without your lie you wouldn’t be able to help SHIELD find whoever wants to hurt him... Then comes the sadness, anger and helplessness.

You sit on the nearest couch, grabbing the remote, and turn the TV on. The channel you’re on is showing an advert, so you skip through until you land on a talk show. You pause for a moment, before lowering the remote.

“... also have a statement from June & Mayflower Publishing,” a woman is saying, text appearing on the screen beside her.

You don’t bother to listen properly or read it. Nat had called Yvette while you’d been packing, and she and her assistant Alice had drafted a statement saying the whole company was delighted. She’d sent it to you while Nat had been driving you here to read beforehand but you’d just replied to the email saying it was fine, you trusted her.

You tune back in when a man speaks, and a weird feeling rises in your chest as a picture of you and Steve, from probably only a few months after you’d moved to D.C, walking in a park and smiling, pops up on the screen.

“Y/N has actually been sighted with Steve before, they’ve actually been neighbours for three years, isn’t that romantic?”

“Awh, so cute!” the woman says, beaming.

“I know, right? People were asking if something was going on, we were desperate to know if our boy in red, white and blue had finally found the one again, but after months of quiet speculation we all knew they were just good friends.”

You wouldn’t have exactly called it quiet. You can still remember the shock and surprise of leaving your building and someone coming up to you to ask questions about you and Steve every other day, but it had soon faded, and had been nothing compared to what you’d experienced today.

“Now what we’re all desperate to know is is it going to be a winter wedding?”

“Yeeesss,” the woman says, clapping her hands together. “Now, some of us may think that that’s unusual but they are becoming more popular, and if the wedding of the century is going to a winter one, then, well, cancel Christmas, wedding planners, you’ve got work to do!”

As they laugh, you cringe, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. Unused to wearing a ring the size of the engagement one, it keeps catching on it.

“Now, we have Chrisse Christianson on the line from Chrisse’s Boutique, the store that specialises in all things weddings right here in New York, hi, Chrisse, have you been contacted by the couple?”

“Hi, guys! No, I haven’t been contacted yet,” she laughs, the trilling sound echoing across the studio, “but as Steve is from here we’re hoping they decide to shop local, and—”

As the gym room door opens, with lightening speed you change the channel, landing on a documentary of some kind.

Clearing your throat and lifting your head, you smile at him as he steps out... and you can’t stop your gaze from travelling him. His shirt is sticking to his skin with sweat, beads of it trailing down his neck and temple. His muscles somehow look bigger, straining under the sleeves of the shirt. You swiftly lift your eyes as you catch yourself, and his warm smile is what sets off the fluttering in your chest.

“Hey,” he greets, closing the door.

“Hi,” you manage to say nonchalantly.

Glancing at the TV screen, he then looks back to you. “Dolly and Bridge’ okay?”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you smile a touch wryly. “Can’t tell if they’re more excited about the engagement or the apartment.”

He chuckles, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. You have to stop yourself from watching his muscles flex. “Well, they’re only human.”

Your smile softens as you exhale a laugh. As he crosses behind the couch to the stairs, your eyes return to the TV, but you hear him pause on the bottom step.

“Hey, after I shower I’ll cook us something to eat, okay?”

You look to him, your smile returning as you nod. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He nods and ascends the stairs, and you make yourself look back at the screen.

Well, there you go, you’ve spoken and it wasn’t awkward. Hey, you’d even laughed. That was good, fine. It would just be a little weird adjusting, that was all.

You focus on the documentary, which you realise is about birds. You focus very hard on it.

—

Cutlery quietly clinks against plates, the only sound that fills the air of the penthouse. Usually when you both cook together one of you will put music on, more often than not the playlist you’ve curated together over the years that holds a charmingly eclectic mix of music ranging from the 20s to now. Today, though, neither of you felt much like listening to any.

You’d just stayed on the couch, anyway, when he’d reappeared, showered and dressed, and cooked, almost frozen to the spot and staring at the TV screen. It was nice to drift away for half an hour or so, be distracted by something. He’d gently called you when the pasta dish was ready, and you’d both decided to sit at the island, something too unspokenly formal about the dining table.

And so silence has fallen.

Steve watches you as you both eat quietly, your head slightly lowered. The only thing you’d said was how good it tasted after your first mouthful, and he’d thanked you. You haven’t said another word since. He himself is slightly slumped in his chair, his shoulders down, his arm resting on his thigh, back a little curved. You’d laughed the first time you’d seen him with such an unsuperhero-y posture, fully relaxed. He’d just smiled, and you’d realised over the years that that was how Steve Rogers sat and how he always had, even pre-serum, almost like his body was curving in, protecting himself.

Your fork lowering onto your plate pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you. Running a hand down his mouth, he clears his throat.

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly.

You just look at your plate for a moment as you push it away, your hands clasping together in its place. You’d known this was coming the whole time you’d been eating, before even. Taking a breath and exhaling it, you swallow before you finally look at him. His features don’t change, just watching you.

“Steve, I’m so sorry, about all of this,” you say, your voice just as quiet as his. “For what I said at the party, all of this, I just...”

“Why?” he asks when you don’t carry on.

You raise your eyebrows slightly, a faint expression of surprise. “I used you. I used you to get back at someone who doesn’t matter, and I hate that I did that, I hate it. It’s what everyone else does to you, they use your status and the symbol of Captain America, they take advantage of it, I’ve seen people do it, they pretend they’re your friend just to get something, and I never wanted to be the person that did that, I’m so sorry, I’m your friend because I like you, not because I want to look important or have some kind of status, but that’s what I wanted in that moment, I wanted him to look at me and think I was important and he’d missed out, and I could do better than him and now I’ve just thrown that all away, I’m a hypocrite and I’m so sorry.” You stop abruptly and inhale a slightly broken breath.

He didn’t interrupt you as you got it all out to him, finally, his expression didn’t change, he just sat quietly and listened, knowing the thoughts have probably been rolling around in your mind incessantly. His features soften now, though.

“Y/N...” he says after a moment, “... It was a bit of fun.” You just look at him, your lips slightly parted. “Sure, it’s spiralled, and here we are, having to pick out cake decorations...” He trails off with a smile as you exhale a laugh, your own smile finally breaking out across your features. When he continues, he’s still smiling but his tone is sincere. “I know the kind of person you are, Y/N. I know when I’m being used, despite how old I am I’ve still got all my marbles, but it was just some fun, and I was glad to do it for you, he seemed like an ass.”

Your smile has lingered, your shoulders relaxing in relief as you inhale a breath. “Yeah, he was.” Shaking your head, you look at him. “God, you’re just...”

He arches an eyebrow, his head tilting. “What?”

Your smile widens. “Incredible, Steve Rogers.”

He chuckles, his hand falling into his lap. “You are, too. And Y/N, you are important—”

“I know, I know,” you say quickly, feeling your face warm. You can’t bear to hear one of his pep-talks now, it’ll just make you feel like even more of a child for having done what you did.

Mercifully, he takes the hint and leans his elbow on the island, his fingers brushing over his lips. There’s a small pause before he speaks again.

“Look, I’m not the best at all this undercover stuff, I’m quite bad at it actually, I’m surprised Nat hasn’t entertained you with the tales, but I think having to do it with you will make it a little easier.”

Your gaze lifts to him, the heat lingering on your skin, and you smile softly. “Well, thank you. You, too.”

You want to cry. You have some kind of emotional release from the day, but you know that would just make him feel guilty.

You attempt to lighten the tone again, raising your eyes to take in the penthouse once more. “So why don’t you live in a place like this?”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “Your apartment’s the same size as mine, but you probably have ten times what I do. Don’t give me that look,” you swiftly continue, the corners of your mouth lifting, “They published it, and I couldn’t help but accidentally read it, and I’m just saying, why do we split the bill.”

He arches an eyebrow, a smile threatening. “Because you insist.”

“Well...” You scoff, raising your eyebrows. “I’m gonna stop insisting.”

He chuckles and shrugs, his hands clasping in his lap. “I like my place. And where could I find a better neighbour, huh?”

“Oh, well...” You shrug a shoulder as you smile faux-demurely, shaking your head. “You couldn’t, so, good.”

“I know, I know, God’s gift,” he concedes with raised eyebrows, his smile betraying his tone. Moving off the stool, he takes your plate and his and heads to the sink, placing them in and turning the tap on, letting the water run over them.

Placing your arms on the island, you exhale a long breath. “So... How are you gonna spend your first afternoon here in paradise?”

The corners of his mouth lift as he turns the tap off and leans against the counter beside him, his hands in his pockets. “Think I’m gonna give Buck a call, and Nat, see what’s goin’ on. You?”

You wrinkle your nose, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m technically not working just yet, so, I’ve got a few things I want to take care of and send to Yvette, then...” You shrug again. “... The shower in my room looks great, actually, so I might spend about three hours in there.”

“Yeah, mine was life-changing, so...” He smiles as you laugh, sliding off of your stool.

“Oh, good, maybe I’ll spend four hours in there, then.” Tugging your sleeves over your hands, you grab your phone and return his smile. “All right, I guess I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Yeah. Don’t work too hard.”

“Oh, I’ll try.”

And there it is again, that weird, unfamiliar awkwardness returns, not too overt, but definitely there. As you climb the stairs, you once again hope he doesn’t feel it, but, you are relieved that you got out what had been rattling around in your mind since the morning. Relieved that he was so understanding, too, but when is he not? That’s what you lo— admire about him so much. Empathy is seemingly a rare trait these days so it’s nice to be reminded that people do have it. And, oh, you’d had a normal conversation. You almost laugh at the boost it’s given you.

You push him, the day, everything out of your mind, though, as you enter your room and close the door. Taking your laptop from your backpack, you turn it on and sit back against the luxurious cushions on the bed, closing your eyes for a few moments to get your brain into work-mode.

This will distract you for a good few hours, be something that you can handle and focus on.

Opening your eyes, you sign into your laptop and straighten your back.

Oke doke... Hello, my actual life.

—

You manage to waste more than a good few hours sending emails, receiving them, taking calls, approving events and posts, planning out the next few months of what you want to get done and make public. You ignore the emails that have ‘CONGRATULATIONS!!!’ in the subject line, hoping people will just think you’re too busy being desperately in love to reply to all the well-wishers. It’s almost bliss, to lose yourself in your work and think of nothing else, even though you do have to block a few numbers from tabloids every half an hour or so.

As darkness falls, though, and everyone else ends their working day, you force yourself to send your last email, to Yvette, explaining, as Nat had asked you to, that you would be taking the week off. Yvette already knows, of course, but Nat had requested you to do it just in case someone hacked into your emails, or the company’s. Shutting your laptop down and closing it, your gaze drifts to the window. The sky is an inky black, and the bedside lamp you’d turned on an hour or so before illuminates the room in a warm, gentle glow.

Moving off the bed with a slight, stiff, wince, you pull the curtains closed, and take a moment to let your thumbs caress the silver, velvety material.

Ugh, just perfect.

Blowing out a breath, you turn back to the room.

What now?

...

Time for that shower, I think.

You take another moment to once more take in the beauty of your bathroom, before you open the shower door and stare at the buttons because it has buttons and not knobs and taps like you’re used to. Thankfully, they’re easy to understand and in seconds a warm stream of beautifully pressured water is pouring down onto the floor.

You dart back into the bedroom to grab your phone, wanting to play some music, and as you wander back into the bathroom, you unlock it. As you search for your desired playlist, an Instagram notification suddenly appears at the top of the screen. It’s a message—

You pause.

A message from Aaron.

You feel your face heating up, and it’s not from the steam of the shower, as you tap on it to open the app and read it quickly.

Hey, I hope you’re settling in okay, and your new door guys aren’t as funny as I am.

You smile, quite touched by the sweetness of it. Your thumbs start to move before you can stop them.

Hi, thank you so much! It’s all fine here, and no, they certainly aren’t, so you can rest easy.

Feeling faintly like a giddy teenager as you quickly close the app in case he comes online and sees you’re active, (and oh my God, did I reply too quickly?), you start your playlist and place your phone by the sink. After undressing, leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, and spending a moment considering if you should remove the ring in case you damage it but deciding to leave it on, you step into the shower and are unable to stop a soft groan as the warm water washes over you.

This is so much better than the water in our building... then again, it’s not hard to beat it.

You take your time to shower, washing every inch of your skin with the new bottle of body-wash that was already in there and smells divine. When you finally turn the water off and step out, you pull a cream, fluffy towel from the nearby rack and it rivals the bed in softness. After patting yourself dry and moisturising with the new pot of cream that was in one of the cabinets under the sink, and comes from that fancy shop you and Dolly go into every month for samples, you wrap the towel around yourself, take your phone and head into the bedroom.

Checking for notification as you sit on the bed, you find Aaron has answered.

Oh, good, to both of those. My reputation remains intact.

Your teeth graze over your lower lip as you reply.

Absolutely, I’ll let them know here that they seriously need to do better.

Being on the app reminds you to make your account private as, oh, boy, strangers commenting on every single photo you’ve ever posted is overwhelming. You’re about to exit out of the app when you decide to have a look at Aaron’s profile. It’s a standard grid, photos of him at bars or parties, by the looks of it, selfies, photos of him at the gym...

Wow... His uniform kinda hides those muscles.

Stop it.

Locking your phone, you lie back on the bed, not quite ready to change just yet.

God, that was a good shower.

Wonder if Steve’s shower was really good. If the water pressure was good like mine, not if he had a nice time, if he just really enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

You stare at the ceiling, swallowing lightly.

Your eyes drift to your backpack on the floor.

Where your toy calls quietly to you.

... This would help the unwinding to continue.

Moving off the bed, you reach inside your backpack and grab the toy, pulling it out of its drawstring bag.

It’s one of your favourites; smooth, rose-gold silicone, medium length, a ribbed shaft, silent, different speeds and patterns, water-proof, you can use it anywhere, anytime, and do whatever you want with it.

Lying back again, you shift into a more comfortable position and close your eyes, your thumb finding the familiar button to set the vibration at the first, low speed.

You think about what you usually do when you can’t be bothered to look a stimulus up online; a faceless mouth on your neck, on your breasts, licking and sucking at your nipples, on your thighs, hands pulling them apart, gliding down to your wet pussy lips, caressing and stroking.

A rush of breath escapes you as you glide the head of the vibrator up and down your cunt, your hips jerking slightly at the initial contact. You’re wet already, and you hum gently as you stop at your clit, leaving the vibrator there.

Your free hand tugs the towel open so you can reach your breasts, your fingers going between your nipples and, tugging and pinching them along with your fantasy. You increase the speed by one as you start to lose yourself in the pleasure thrumming throughout your body.

... And you can’t stop yourself from not thinking about it anymore.

You picture Steve in the shower.

You’ve thought of him a couple of times before while masturbating, accidentally. Like when you've been drunk he’s just slipped into your mind... or just at the last second when you're coming his face has appeared in your mind and his name from your lips. You just can’t help it.

The faceless mouth and hands become his as you rock your hips, quiet moans sounding from your throat. He whispers your name into your ear, telling you how good you feel, how wet you are, what a good girl you are, how he can’t wait to sink his cock into yo—

Two gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapping open, you stare at the door.

Steve.

Oh my God, it’s like I summoned him.

“... Yeah?” You try to sound as nonchalant as possible, your voice just a touch higher than normal.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh...” You’re off the bed in seconds, the towel falling to the floor as you thrust the vibrator behind one of the many pillows and clear your throat, “... Hang on, two seconds...”

You can’t answer the door to him in just a towel, you can’t, where—

You find the robe you’d spotted earlier, still hanging on the back of the bathroom door and grab it, pulling it on and tying the cord tight.

God, that’s soft...

Clearing your throat again, you take a breath and open the door, smiling widely as your eyes fall on him.

“Hey, sorry, I just had a shower.”

He takes an almost involuntary step back, his back straightening. “Oh, sorry—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You’re still smiling, and he’s returning it, albeit a bit softer and less forced, his eyes on yours.

“Right, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie? I can make some dinner for us while you change?”

He’s just so fucking nice, how can I think such filthy things...

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“All right, I think it’s your turn to pick the movie.”

“All right, I’ll get thinking.”

I hope I don’t sound as manic as I feel.

You watch him descend the stairs for a moment before you close the door and lean against it, closing your eyes.

Oh, God...

It’s good actually, that he turned up, you shouldn’t be thinking about him, it’s wrong, he’s your friend—

Stop. Just stop thinking about it.

Opening your eyes, you exhale a long breath and move towards your new wardrobe, finding your pyjamas.

Right, now to just get through the evening without any awkwardness... and the rest of the week.

Okay.

Right.

Fine.

Perfectly easy.

—

Comments, reblogs make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in this series!

Tagged: @herb-welch, @jobean12-blog, @gifsbysimplysonia, @multireality, @saltyspiceduh, @sergeantangel, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky, @dispatchvampire, @superapplepie, @rynabarnesrogers-reading, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @imaginedreamwrite, @thesefleshfailures, @mrsbarnes32557038, @tellthemall-i-saidhi, @tacohead13, @opalsandlace, @notsomellowmushroom, @river-soul

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x plus size reader #chekhov's sex toy #my writing #flamehairedwritings #marvel fanfiction

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imaryathings · 3 months ago

Text

I am the love killer,

I am murdering the music we thought so special,

that blazed between us, over and over.

I am murdering me, where I kneeled at your kiss.

I am pushing knives through the hands

that created two into one.

Our hands do not bleed at this,

they lie still in their dishonor.

I am taking the boats of our beds

and swamping them, letting them cough on the sea

and choke on it and go down into nothing.

I am stuffing your mouth with your

promises and watching

you fucked them out upon my face.

The Camp we directed?

I have gassed the campers.

Now I am alone with the dead,

flying off bridges,

hurling myself like a beer can into the wastebasket.

I am flying like a single red rose,

leaving a jet stream

of solitude

and yet I feel nothing,

though I fly and hurl,

my insides are empty

and my face is as blank as a wall.

Shall I call the funeral director?

He could put our two bodies into one pink casket,

those bodies from before,

and someone might send flowers,

and someone might come to mourn

and it would be in the obits,

and people would know that something died,

is no more, speaks no more, won't even

drive a car again and all of that.

When a life is over,

the one you were living for,

where do you go?

I'll work nights.

I'll dance in the city.

I'll wear red for a burning.

I'll look at the Charles very carefully,

weraing its long legs of neon.

And the cars will go by.

The cars will go by.

And there'll be no scream

from the lady in the red dress

dancing on her own Ellis Island,

who turns in circles,

dancing alone

as the cars go by.

Anne Sexton, happy birthday lovely.

November 9th

#Anne Sexton #poet #love #birthday

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valkyrieofthehighfae · 4 years ago

Text

Horseshoes, Hand grenades, and Gargoyles

Summery: Hally Lavellan has been hired to take on a clan of gargoyles on her own. Explosives and chaos ensue and the elven woman finds herself in a world of excitement.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Violence, language

Tagging: @thearohandmaiden, @capricornrabies, @notreallybeccab, @meshlamando

It was late when I got the call from Keres’ guard, Sylvain I think his name was, requesting my assistance in an important matter. I was a little confused as to why the Blood Fae was requesting for my help exactly since, y’know, elves and Fae don’t like each other much, but I was getting paid, so I wasn’t about to turn him down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, did you say you’d pay me to make weapons and go kill a clan of gargoyles? Fuck yes! I get to make things explode, this is the happiest day of my life!” I was grinning widely at the big guy’s words, absolutely excited to get paid to blow shit up. This was the dream! “When do you need me? Uh huh. Okay, I can be there in a week. No, no, it’ll only take me twenty minutes tops to make everything I need, it’s the ride there that’s gonna take that long. And, uh, convincing Rune that this is a good idea. My fee is six thousand gold to cover expenses on materials, travel, and on the offhand that I lose a limb doing this. Well, another limb anyway.” I rubbed my right arm, wincing at the thought of going through another loss of a limb. One prosthetic was more than enough, thank you.

“Brilliant! I’ll get to work and see ya in a week.” I ended the call and jumped to it, grabbing my sketchpad and began designing a grenade launcher and rocket launcher of my own design, turning on my music and cranking it loudly as I got to work, welding and hammering, singing along with the tunes excitedly. I was so into my work, I didn’t notice Rune at first until she was turning my music off, startling me.

“Lahalaan Lavellan, I have been yelling at you for the past twenty minutes. What are you doing?” Rune had her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at me and I winced a little bit, grinning awkwardly.

“I’m making a grenade launcher and rocket launcher. I just got a call from Keres’ guard about hiring me to make them and go kill a clan of gargoyles!” I didn’t falter under her glare, my baby sister not as intimidating as she thought she was.

“I-I’m sorry, you what?” She was staring at me like I’d grown a second head and I assumed she hadn’t heard what I told her.

“I was hired to make a grenade launcher and go kill gargoyles.” I was ecstatic over the idea, I had been dying for a little action, it had been so boring lately, so this was going to be a blast. So to speak.

“I… do you have a plan at least?” Rune wasn’t even shocked at this point, she just rolled with it. Guess she was too used to my shenanigans for anything to surprise her anymore, which was mildly disappointing. I needed to do better about keeping her on her toes clearly.

“Yes!” I grinned then stopped for a moment and frowned a bit. “No… Yes!” I had to cycle through a couple of thoughts for a moment before coming to a full decision, but I was almost certain that I had at least half a plan put together.

“This is either madness, or brilliance.” Rune was pinching the bridge of her nose at my response, her voice sounding tired and resigned.

“It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide with each other.” I pointed out, much to her irritation clearly with that groan she let out before walking out of my workshop, grumbling in elven. I chuckled softly before turning my music back on and getting back to work on my project, wanting to get it all completed and ready to go.

~*~*~

One week later, Rune and I were riding up to the palace on our harts, the two of us looking up at the famed Scarlet Keep with wide eyes.

“Whoa. It’s so much bigger than I was expecting it to be,” I muttered in elvish to Rune, who nodded slowly, eyes the size of dinner plates as we got closer to the keep. Waiting outside for us was Keres, the Blood Fae queen grinning as we hopped off the harts and approached her, the Fae hugging us tightly.

“What are you two doing here? I wasn’t expecting to host you! Not that I’m unhappy to see you, of course, I’m glad you two are here.” Keres stepped back, puzzled now that our greetings were over and done with.

“We’re here to kill gargoyles!” I was beaming. “Well, okay, I’m here to kill gargoyles. She’s here to make sure I don’t blow myself up.” I pointed at Rune and Keres just stood there, head slightly tilted, and brow furrowed.

“I’m… sorry? I don’t recall asking you to come do that?” Keres was puzzled, trying to determine when she asked us to be gargoyle exterminators.

“You didn’t. I did,” Sylvain came walking out, dressed in that imposing ass armor of his that had Rune shifting closer to me, hiding a little bit from the intimidating Fae. “Got here just in time too. Do you have what you need?”

“Oh yeah,” I grinned motioning to the grenade launcher and rocket launcher plus the bag of ammo. “So, where’s our quarry? Oooh I sound like a bounty hunter when I say it like that.”

Rune rolled her eyes and shook her head, smacking me upside the head lightly, earning a scowl from me as I rubbed my noggin where she smacked me.

“You know, how’s Opal gonna feel about you being this stoked to kill gargoyles?” Rune inquired with a cocked eyebrow, bringing up our gargoyle friend in the Court of Stars. I opened my mouth to reply, then shut it again, thinking that over. What if this was her clan we were about to murderize?

“We don’t tell her about this…?” I ventured after a moment of awkward silence and Rune sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. The frustration was palpable and Keres snorted a little bit, muttering that this reminded her of her and Ajax a bit. “Anyway, let’s get moving! I wanna get going while there’s still daylight.” I pulled a map out of the bag I had with me and unfolded it so Sylvain could mark where we needed to go.

“We managed to take out quite a few of them, but I don’t know how many are left. There’s this old ruin they took over as their home, your best bet would be to start there.” Sylvain took my pen, marking the map and trail we needed to use.

“Brilliant. I’m expecting half of my payment upfront and the other half upon completion. You good with that?” I folded the map back up, handing it over to Rune, and accepted the small leather pouch he handed over, tossing it up in the air a few times, before palming it and sliding it into my bra. “Onword, Buttercup! There’s fuckery to spread!” I was cackling, scrambling up onto my hart’s back while Rune groaned.

“Only Varric gets to call me ‘Buttercup’, Hally.” She muttered darkly as we took off, waving at Sylvain and Keres. This was going to be intense and I was a little nervous; these were old elven ruins, who knows just how many gargoyles were there calling it home. I was almost a little nervous that I hadn’t made enough ammunition for this job, what if there were more gargoyles than originally planned on? I was getting too into my own head over this, I needed to pull myself together and focus on the job at hand. Just had to get through this and we’d be six thousand gold richer. Could use it to buy Rune a new bed since she and Spooks broke hers on accident, maybe stock up on some more supplies for the clan. This was going to be just fine.

~*~*~

“Was this part of the plan?!” Rune bellowed, hurling a fireball at a group of gargoyles hot on our heels as we raced through the elven ruins.

“No! No it was not!” I shouted back, turning long enough to hurl an explosive behind us, yelping as we got tossed forward from the blow back. We scrambled to our feet and took cover long enough for me to load up the grenade launcher and fire it off, wincing slightly from the kickback.

“You don’t even have a plan!” Rune realized quickly, hitting my arm angrily. I smacked her back, glaring at the pissed off mage and shook my head a little bit, trying to do some calculations in my head.

“I do too! Sort of!” I didn’t have shit but she didn’t need to know that. I was at least trying to come up with something, but thinking was a little hard when I was currently having to keep an eye out on my surroundings for fucking gargoyles. Now I got why Sylvain wanted this place cleared out, this clan was huge.

“Oh, brilliant, so you have half a plan?!” She conjured up a blizzard to slow them down and I crammed another grenade into the launcher, getting it set up for round two.

“Even better! I have a quarter of a plan!” No I fucking didn’t, I didn’t have shit. I was flying by the seat of my pants here and was winging this job.

“Brilliant! We’re gonna die!”

“There’s that Rune optimism I love! We’re not gonna die, it’s gonna be fine!” I lied through my teeth with a devilish grin. Had to keep my little sister reassured that we would be fine, that I was going to keep us safe. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. I’ve got an idea! Rune, start running!” I grabbed the rocket launcher, getting it set up and fished out some smoke bombs I’d made, yanking the pins and hurling them over our cover while Rune sprinted towards the exit. I took aim at the roof of the ruins, took a deep breath and fired the rocket, tossing the weapon aside and hauling ass as fast as I could after Rune as the ruins came down around me, Rune thankfully outside.

“Hally?! HALLY!”

I burst out of a cloud of smoke, dirt, and debris, coughing hard and collapsed to my knees, trying to catch my breath, and looked over my shoulder. There was no way any of them would have survived that, it took out the entire building, making it collapse in on itself.

“Sorry you can’t study that particular ruin, sis. Told you I had a plan.” I panted, taking her outstretched hand and getting to my feet. “Was it a good plan? No, no it wasn’t. But it worked!”

“You pulled that out of your ass right then and there, didn’t you? There was never any plan, you just went in without thinking. Well, okay, I say you weren’t thinking, but you definitely were thinking. Thinking about one thing: explosions. As per usual with your damaged brain.” She took her staff and hit me in the head with it, making me yelp.

“Why do you have to hit me?! That’s not gonna make me any smarter!”

“It might if I hit you hard enough!”

“Let’s just go collect the rest of my money please. I need a shower. And we have a week-long ride home. Hey, think Keres will let us stay at the palace tonight?” I asked and Rune just threw her hands into the air, stalking off without answering. “Rune? C’mon, what do you think?” I called after her retreating back, breaking into a jog to catch up with her, hoping that Keres would be cool and let us crash there for a night. Fighting gargoyles was a lot tougher than I’d originally thought and I wanted a shower and a nap.

#Kat writes #Keres Cirillo #Sylvain Broussard #Hally Lavellan #Rune Lavellan #Hally and her explosives

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dangerousfellows-hc · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Can you make a oneshot or scenario about scarlet continuously picking on s/o and one day she actually stands up for herself but scarlet gets mad and catches s/o off guard and pushes her down the stairs and she gets injured? like what would be the boys reaction? How would they take care of her and stuff. What happened to scarlet? You can make it a reversed harem or separated however you like.

Boys x Fem. Reader ~ You Didn’t Have To!

Word Count: 1191

Warning: Profanity, Violence.

~~~

Sighing through my nose, I leaned my cheek on my palm, ignoring the blonde-haired girl to my right.

“Lawrence! You know I’m right!” A high pitch whine buzzed in my ear, causing me to clench my jaw. Lawrence was holding another meeting, discussing the usual until Scarlett obtained eye contact with me from across the room.

It was early in the morning, the sun peeking from the horizon, casting long shadows inside the classroom. Everyone was exhausted, annoyed at Lawrence, but we bit our tongues from saying anything. Jumping out of my thoughts, I felt a hand get placed on my knee, giving it a light squeeze. Glimpsing up, I gazed into some warm gray-blue eyes.

“You alright?” Seeing the concern in Harry’s eyes, I give him a forced smile, nodding my head.

“Never been better.” I hissed through my teeth, glaring back over at Scarlett. I felt Harry give my knee another squeeze, sensing my anger at the blonde-haired female.

“If looks could kill.” Zion chuckles, an amusing smirk on his face as he leaned back on the desk he was resting on. His hair shifted perfectly over his features, the shadows making it look like his eyes were glowing.

Sending a glare his way, I pouted my lips, causing him to give me a dry laugh. Hearing a harsh snap, all of our heads turned to see Lawrence holding his hands together, informing us that he clapped his hands. Clearing his throat, Lawrence eyed all of us, making sure we were all listening this time.

“I understand you’re all tired, but we must go over this. I don’t wanna repeat myself a hundred times!” He grumbles, gaining eye contact with everyone in the room. Planting his hands on the desk in front of him, he leaned his body forward, waiting for someone to speak.

“Well, you’re going to keep repeating yourself with HER in here.” Scarlett barked, aiming a finger in my direction. Sighing, I rolled my eyes, finding her insults ineffective. I mean, we’re in an apocalypse, what’s an insult going to do to me?

“How about you shut the fuck up, Scarlett. You’re the one interrupting.” I snarled, pushing my hand away from my face as I drilled my nails into my palm. Everyone else was dead silent, eyeing Lawrence as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Whatever, continue to insult me like it’s going to do anything. I’m leaving.” Hurling my hands down on the desk, everyone winced at the booming sound. Pushing the chair from out under me, I stood up, maintaining eye contact with Scarlett. Harry removed his hand from my knee, letting it drop to his side again. Spinning on my heel, I marched out of the classroom, heading to my room.

“And where are you going?” Scarlett hollered, her voice echoing off the empty walls, causing me to quicken my pace.

“Away from you!” I scoffed, catching Scarlett’s footsteps rushing after me. Everyone shouted her name, telling her to leave me alone. Their voices held anger and annoyance. “And if you didn’t like me, why are you chasing after me?” Crossing my arms, I turned to face the female, noticing the flash of murder on her face.

Everyone else raced into the hall, glimpsing down the hallway before they spotted us. I held out my hand, assuring them that I will be fine. Zion sneered at my request, about to march up to us before Ethan grabbed his wrist, keeping him back.

“I don’t like you. The only reason I’m following you is to finish the job.” Raising a brow at her statement, I watched as she took a few threatening steps towards me. Once she was in arms reach, her cold hands connected with my shoulders, shoving me into the railings on the stairs.

“(Y/N)!”

Immediately grasping ahold of the railings, I understood if I let go, I was going to tumble down the stairs. Groaning, I gritted my teeth, waiting to see what Scarlett was going to do next. Zion was the first one I saw as Scarlett positioned her shoe on my chest, forcing me off the railing and down the stairs.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I felt my head and hips slam into every other step, provoking me to moan out in pain. Shielding my head with my hands, I came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, my body aching everywhere.

Gradually opening my eyes, everything was blurry as my head swirled. Staring up at the ceiling, voices reached my ears, but they were muffled.

Sighing, I relaxed my head on the freezing dirty floor, closing my eyes again. Pain shot through my body, the same feeling when Jay pushed me down the stairs.

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?!” Reopening my eyes, I recognized Harry and Eugene as their troubled faces protruded into my vision. Their eyes roamed my body, looking for any serious injuries.

“I’m going to kill her.” I breathed, shutting my eyes and concentrating on the pain on my sides.

“I believe we all are after what she did to you.” Eugene snickers, sitting next to me. Scooping my head off the filthy floor, he placed my head in his lap, running his fingers gently through my hair.

“Is (Y/n) alright?” Ethan questioned, jogging over to us. His dark eyes scanning my face for any information.

“From what we can see, but she has some big bruises,” Harry commented, eyeing the bruise forming on my wrist. Carefully running his thumb over it, Harry apologized as I winced in pain.

“Don’t worry, (Y/n), she’ll be in her room for the rest of the day. Lawrence will make sure she never comes around you again.” Zion coughed, rubbing the red hand-print on his cheek as he wandered down the stairs. Scarlett actually struck him. Chuckling, I glanced away from Zion, causing him to be confused.

“Thanks, guys, but you didn’t have to do it,” I stated, not making eye contact with the boys.

“Hey, ” Feeling a tender finger get placed under my chin, I glimpsed up to meet Ethan’s gaze. “We had to do it before you got seriously injured from her. Besides, it was getting kinda annoying.” Everyone chuckles as they helped me get off the ground. Ethan and Zion wrapped my arms around their shoulders, carefully pulling me back onto my feet.

“Can you walk?” Eugene questioned, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Probably, but it will hurt.” I smiled, taking one step forward, only to crumble to the ground. Grabbing ahold of Zion jacket, my hand rested on my sides, feeling like someone stabbed me.

“Easy there, we’ll help you get back to the classroom.” Zion grip tightened on me as he picked me up bridal style.

Once we made our way back to the classroom, Lawrence was sitting in the front of the room, resting his head on his hands. His brows pinched together like he was thinking hard on something.

“Is (Y/n) injured?” Glancing over at Sue, she strolled up to us with her hands behind her back. The feeling of power trailed behind her.

“Just some bruises, nothing too bad,” Harry announced, gazing towards me before giving me a warm smile. What would I do without these guys?

#dangerous fellows #dangerousfellows #dangerous fellows ethan #dangerous fellows zion #dangerous fellows harry #dangerous fellows eugene #dangerous fellows lawrance #dangerous fellows scarlett #dangerous fellows oneshot #dangerous fellows jay

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allyvampirelass29 · 5 years ago

Text

From Badass to Bad Mother

From Badass to Bad Mother A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

A phantom ring, a chilling trill only she hears. Say HELLO Vic McQueen, to your worst fear. Christmas is calling, and you're falling back down the rabbit hole, slashing cords, burning phones, but a Manx rising from an eight year sleep is the least of your woes. Drinking, screaming, setting your house ablaze, you're becoming the thing you hate...... Shaking in the dead gaze of your vanquished enemy, but you should be afraid of another....... Look at the villain you can't see, the reaching shadow seeking to smother. You should be afraid of her, The Bad Mother.

Welcome back to Christmasland!!! My GOD, does it feel good to lose myself in the LONG awaited and excruciatingly ached for NOS4A2 Season 2 Premiere!!! One year is insufferably too long to be parted from the dark, smouldering, elegant malevolence that is one, Charlie Manx!!! Alas alack, Bad Mother only teases our dangerously alluring Vampire Chauffer's return, and while I appreciate the delayed gratification for the sake of suspense, the episode suffers from keeping the man of the hour behind the curtain. The name on everyone's lips, and yet he does not get to speak a word!

Bad Mother opens unto the seemingly happy ending for all of our favourite Strong Creatives. In a world where eight years has passed during our one, Christmasland is falling apart, Vic is still the same wicked cool badass that we love, and now has a miniature McQueen of her own, while being madly in love with her rescuer Lou Carmody, and Miss Mags has found domestic, dancing bliss with the FBI Agent that closed the Manx Case. I was really surprised Vic and Lou ended up together after the ordeal, that she was able to open her heart again, despite the devastating loss of Craig. I'd always thought Vic and Lou's chemistry was more platonic, more of the hero/sidekick variety, so that was such a shocking surprise, her staying in Gunbarrel, and moving in with him!!! Oh my GOD, haha and I'm STILL laughing about CarQueen and Lou comparing them to Rey and Finn!!!

I also found it interesting, that despite their shared animosity towards Charlie, he inadvertently lead both Vic and Maggie to their respective happiness. Vic would never have met Lou, if he hadn't stopped to save her after the Sleigh House Fire. It was Charlie, oddly enough, who brought their paths to a dramatic collision, and also summoned Maggie's FBI love, Tabitha, to Haverhill through his latest kidnappings. I could just see him deliciously pointing this out, with an especially icy, "You're Welcome." And what of our, Benevolent Mister Christmas?

"Who's Charlie Manx?" Vic feels her punk rock version of the Brady scene shatter around her, like a glass ornament hurled at the ground, as the son she loves, says the one thing she prayed she'd never hear him say....... The news of Charlie's death, after an eight year coma, sends shock waves from Gunbarrel, where it all went up in flames, all the way back to Haverhill, where it all began with a girl and a magic bridge. This is where the sheen of happily ever after starts to peel away, leaving a ghastly truth, as Vic realizes the game isn't over. She hasn't won........ She didn't kill Charlie Manx.

Our cool Mom, with her spray painted motorcycles, mad video game skills, wildly curly hair, and fresh new ink, begins her descent into madness, and the more evidence there is that Manx, The Wraith, and his Peppermint Playground are all dead, the more intense the fear, the greater the obsession that Charlie's come back to take again what she loves the most. Her only child. It's funny, when I first saw the title, "Bad Mother," I was convinced it was from Charlie's perspective, twisted to tailor his opinions of what makes a good mother. Vic lets her son Wayne have ice cream for breakfast, skip school, (honestly I'm surprised the dear little lad isn't homeschooled after what his mom has gone through) and while she lives with a man, she remains unmarried. Of course, Charlie would disapprove, and come up with these, or any excuse to "rescue," young Master Wayne, adorably known as "Bats." He would feel at once that she didn't deserve him.

However, by trying to protect her darling son, who is, may I say, a most welcome addition to the cast, as endearing and lovable, as he is clever, and inquisitive, Vic proves herself the worst thing for him. The BEST scene in this episode is of a drunk, paranoid Vic, slashing the cords to ringing phones, throwing them all in the oven, in a mad frenzy, and I wish SO badly this is where the episode had started. It's so powerful an image, a woman on the verge, trying to shield her son from her worst enemy's undying reach, and placing him in more danger for it, becoming the one thing she swore she'd never be...... A Bad Mother.

I think this would have been the stronger opener, throwing us right into the action instead of relying so heavily on drawn out exposition, taking up the entire runtime, catching the audience up to the present day. Yes, I loved seeing Maggie dance around in an FBI jacket, and be reunited with her scrabble bag. Her pre-emptive 911 call was sweetly heartbreaking. Even Bing in his usual vacant-eyed eeriness, ever the Wraith enthusiast, was mildly entertaining. But the ending felt....... hollow for me, after waiting a year, and now an hour to see Charlie returned to his devastatingly handsome youth, only to be met with his hollowed out cadaver on the autopsy table, and Vic, stabbing a scalpel through his already dead heart. Yes, we got to feel it, that quiver of hope, as it beat once, then twice, despite being skewered, before the episode ended, but I wanted more.

I found it so intriguing when Luke mentioned Vic drinking herself to death every Christmas, and I was SHOCKED that this was not the foreshadowing to an especially poignant flashback!!! What a FANTASTIC scene that would have made, Vic flinching as Lou turns on the Christmas music, downing bottle after bottle, watching as her boyfriend and son decorate the house, fighting a Christmas tree, after everyone's gone to sleep on Christmas Eve, not able to take it anymore, tearing off the lights, kicking presents, just tormented by the trimmings and trappings of her worst enemy, while Wayne struggles to understand it....... "Mom, why do you HATE Christmas?"

All in all, a very good episode, a bit of a slow burn for a Season Premiere, but what a perfect title, and some staggeringly good acting from Ashleigh Cummings right out of the gate!!! That being said, I am so ready for Charlie's return to his gloriously villainous form, because as much as I adore this cast, as incredibly talented as they are, it's just not NOS4A2 without My Charlie Manx!!! Goodbye Bad Mother. HELLO Good Father!!!

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #vic mcqueen #wayne mcqueen #bad mother #nos4a2 review

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 5 years ago

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Love Isn’t Always On Time Part Thirteen

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Notes: Sorry this took so long, I have been sick! Not beta-read. Summary: Accompanying Steve on this mission had to be the stupidest thing I’d done in my time in the past. I’d been out of action for so long, I was worried I’d lost some nerve.

Warnings: Some cursing; violence.

Rating: T (this may change)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

“Have you ever handled a weapon?” Peggy asked. Though yelled over the roar of the engine, it was calm, matter of fact. There wasn’t any judgement in her tone, like there had been from Stark, and would’ve been from Colonel Phillips.

“Yes,” I said honestly. I could feel Steve’s eyes on me, but I focused more on the piece Peggy handed me. Peggy glanced between me and Steve before she turned back to the map she’d brought on the plane with her, flipping it around to show us.

“The HYDRA camp is in Krausberg, tucked between these two mountain ranges. It’s a factory of some kind.”

“We should be able to drop you right on the doorstep,“ Howard called back to us. Peggy excused herself, getting up to speak with Howard. I recognized the make and model of the gun Peggy had handed me: a Browning Hi Power. I’d only handled one once before, but I know the feel well enough. I leaned back, huffing out a breath and looking out one of the small plane windows. Steve was still staring at me. “You should stay on the plane,” He said. My head whipped around to stare at him. “No. No, I’m not going back with them.” “I don’t know what we’re gonna be walking into.” “All the more reason for you to have backup on the ground. You’re not going to talk me out of this.” His mouth twisted into a stern frown. “When have you handled a weapon before?”

I looked away from him, shaking my head as I tucked the gun into the back waistband of my pants. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Steve.”

Peggy returned, passing the both of us our parachutes. I pulled mine on, buckling it up. Steve glanced up at her before peering forward, looking at Howard. “You know, you two are gonna be in a lot of trouble at the lab,” He said. “And you two won’t?” Peggy retorted. I tuned them out, looking back outside. Accompanying Steve on this mission had to be the stupidest thing I’d done in my time in the past. I’d been out of action for so long, I was worried I’d lost some nerve. My head snapped up as the plane was rocked by enemy fire. I saw Steve stand and head for the door of the plane. I turned to get one look at Peggy and Howard, in case it was my last. Peggy offered me a reassuring smile and I nodded back before jumping out of the plane after Steve. I could hear the wind rushing past my ears, the blast of detonations all around us. I got flashes of Steve’s parachute illuminated by the explosions as we sailed toward the treetops. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for impact.

—

Steve and I trudged through the forest, eyeing the fence outside the Krausberg camp. The front of the facility was gated; a sloth-like search light lighting up the opposite side of the fence. I turned my head at the sound of trucks before I reached out, gently pulling Steve to crouch beside me behind a tree. A line of vehicles were headed for the camp gates. I glanced over at Steve. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” I murmured. He nodded. “Let’s go.” Steve took hold of my hand, gripping my hand. We ran for the last truck in the procession, leaping through the canvas-covered back and sagging back against the inside… Only to be met by two Hydra officers. “Great,” I commented. “Fellas,” Steve greeted, looking between them. The Hydra officers lunged at us and Steve and I; we met them in the middle. Steve lifted one by the shirt, slamming him into the top of the vehicle. I leaned out of the way of the soldier’s punch, catching him by the arm and whirling us around. It only took one well-aimed kick to his chest to send him hurling out of the vehicle; Steve’s was thrown out not far behind. I crouched down, inspecting the contents of the truck. “What is it?” Steve asked. “Munitions, mostly,” I said. I wobbled as the truck reversed slowly. Steve took my hand, pulling me to crouch behind him as he brought his shield up to hide both of us. Once the docking agent was dispatched, we climbed out of the truck. We were quiet, moving as one was we crept through the grounds. I could feel my heart pounding as I climbed atop a tank ahead of Steve, sprinting along the roof and praying wee wouldn’t be seen.

The guards were dispatched between us; I knew I had a limited amount of ammo, to be used in the worst case scenario. The sound of gunfire would surely draw the attention of other soldiers. “What is that?” Steve murmured. I looked around as he stepped out from behind our cover. There were a number of glowing devices on the table. “I don’t know,” I said, following him out when the coast was clear. Steve glanced around before taking one, tucking it into his pocket. “Maybe Stark’ll have an idea. Come on.” —

“Who are you?” The soldiers we’d found were in considerably better condition than I expected. “I’m… Captain America,” Steve said, unsure of himself. I snorted, unhooking the guard’s keys from his best and straightening. We unlocked the cells, looking for Bucky and doing our best to hush the murmur of confused voices around us. “You see ‘im?” Steve asked. I shook my head, turning back to him. My stomach twisted with concern, but I did my best to force it down. Surely my involvement couldn’t have led to this— Bucky had to be here somewhere. “We’re looking for a Sergeant James Barnes,” Steve said, turning back to the others. “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it,” a Brit spoke up. I nodded. “First time for everything, right?”

—

The desertion in the halls was eery— like stumbling across an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. My overwhelming feeling that I shouldn’t be there was overpowered only by faith in Steve, and our need to get Bucky out. Steve was far ahead of me, but I stopped beside a hallway, hearing a man groaning not too far off. “Steve,” I hissed, waving him back. He followed me, and we rounded the corner into an examination room. I could her him before I could see him: a tired urge of a mumble: “Sergeant... 32557.” Steve and I rounded either side of the examination table. “Bucky,” Steve breathed out. I shook my head, working at the straps holding his wrists as Steve ripped off the ones that had pinned his legs. Bucky looked between us, stunned for a moment, like we were ghosts, until I rested my hand on his cheek. “Is— Is that—?” “It’s us,” I said softly, “It’s me and Steve.” “Come on,” Steve urged. We each took an arm, helping Bucky up. “Thought you were dead,” Steve sighed, relief in his tone. Bucky blinked dazedly for a moment, “Thought you were smaller.”

I wrapped my arm around Bucky’s middle. “We’ve gotta go.” Steve’s eyes were caught on something in the corner of the room, something I couldn’t see. “Steve, now,” I said firmly as the sound of gunfire outside grew louder and more rapid. He nodded, looping his arm around Bucky before the three of us headed out of the room.

— The factory below us was descending into chaos. There was no way we could escape through the entrances we’d used; the only way to go was up. Steve led the way and I brought up the rear, not wanting to lose track of Bucky in the chaos. “There,” Steve pointed out as we reached the next level— there was a bridge to cross. But there were people on the other side. “Captain America!” A mocking voice with a German accent rang out across the deck, and we slowed our pace. My hand moved to the gun in my waistband, keeping Bucky behind me. “How exciting! I am a great fan of your films,” The man went on, moving closer to the crossing. “Films?” I heard Bucky mumble behind me. “Steve, don’t,” I hissed as Steve stepped onto the bridge with the German. “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all.” My blood ran cold. Of course. This was Doctor Johann Schmidt. “Not exactly an improvement, but still impressive,” Schmidt went on. Steve punched him, sending him stumbling back roughly. “You got no idea,” Steve said coldly. Schmidt straightened up, and Steve brought his shield up just in time to block the oncoming punch. “Haven’t I?” Steve reached for his gun, but not fast enough. It skittered over the side of the walkway as Schmidt advanced. Steve kicked him square in the chest, sending Schmidt flying back. A man on the other side of the walkway pulled a level, causing the walkway to retract, and leaving a chasm between us and our only escape. I reached out, gripping Steve’s jacket as if he’d make a run for it if I didn’t hold on. “No matter what lies Erskine told you, you see I was his greatest success!” Schmidt yelled from the other side. My jaw dropped as Schmidt peeled a mask off, revealing a red skull. “Holy…” I breathed. “You don’t have one of those, do you?” Bucky asked. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!” “Then how come you’re running?” Steve yelled back. I turned my head to look at him, unable to help the fond smile that spread across my face, though it was at an entirely inappropriate time. No matter what, he was still that kid from Brooklyn. I shielded my face from another blast, this one closer than the others before it. “Now what?” I asked, looking around. Steve spotted a catwalk and nodded to it before he gripped Bucky’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go!” I stared at the catwalk with trepidation, my stomach churning.

Everyone, when they’re a kid, walks along low walls or curb edges, one foot in front of the other, arms out for balance. I’d never been able to get more than a few steps in before I’d tumble down and hit the pavement. Mine was a childhood of wobbly legs and skinned knees. This was not a low wall. This was a metal catwalk at least a hundred feet in the air over an imploding factory. “Oh, god the floor is lava,” I mumbled shakily. “What?” Bucky asked, frowning and turning to look at me. I shook my head. “Nothing,” I squeaked. “You first,” Steve urged. I whipped my head around to look at him. “W-What? No. No no, Bucky first—“ “You first,” Bucky agreed. I turned to look between them, jaw clenching. We didn’t have time to argue. I turned back to the catwalk, taking a shaky breath. I held tightly to the guard rail as I stepped over, setting both feet down on the walk. I had to side-step it. I could not look down. I couldn’t focus on the explosions around me, on Bucky and Steve behind me. All I could focus on was the other side. I faltered at the midway point, arms windmilling to keep my balance as the walk shook. I managed to run the last few feet and steady myself on the side rail before I turned back to Bucky. “Come on!” I yelled, eyeing the chaos below us. Bucky, while nervous, was more sure-footed than I had been, taking steady, even steps. The gantry’s mooring faltered, and my stomach clenched as Bucky edged closer. He, too, ran the last few yards, jumping and clinging to the railing as the gantry collapsed, falling below. I pulled Bucky up and over the railing, staring back at Steve. I looked around the catwalk. “What are you doing, go!” Steve yelled. “There’s gotta be a rope or something!” Bucky yelled back. “Just go, get out of here!” Steve yelled. “No!” I snapped as Bucky yelled, “Not without you!” Steve looked around for a moment before he eyed the space between us. Bucky and I watched as he backed up. “Is he gonna…?” Bucky asked. “Son of a bitch,” I groaned, gripping Bucky’s arm and tugging him to the side to clear a runway for Steve. I saw him run, and leap. There was an explosion below and I lost sight of him for a moment before he landed with a ‘thud’ against the railing. I straightened, grabbing his shoulder and helping him over to our side. “Holy shit—“ Bucky gripped Steve’s arm.

“We have to go, we have to go now,” I urged, leading the way down the steps. — The other soldiers cheered when we reached the tree line. “We thought you were a goner, Cap,” one laughed, clapping Steve’s arm. “So did we,” Bucky grumbled. I gave him a light squeeze. “Can’t relax yet. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.” Bucky and I joined Steve at the front, leading the others back to base camp. Steve and I filled Bucky in on what we could on our way: the experiment, the tours, the films. He took in what he could, but I could see there were still a few hang-ups. He was troubled. I pushed my worry down for the time being— there was nothing that we could do in the middle of the forrest in the middle of the night, with the possibility of being ambushed. We walked though the night and into the day, out of Hydra territory and back to camp. We flooded in with the rest of the 107th, afforded a hero’s welcome as we came in. Phillips and Peggy met us in the middle of the action. Phillips was hard to read, but Peggy looked elated. Steve gave the Colonel of stiff salute. “Some of these men need medical attention.” He paused, then, “I’d like to surrender myself for disciplinary action.” Phillips didn’t answer for a moment. “That won’t be necessary.” “Yes sir.”

Phillips stepped away, and I watched him go before I glanced over to see Peggy approaching us.

“You’re late,” She said, looking between myself and Steve. Steve reached into his jacket, pulling out his broken radio out. “Couldn’t call my ride.” I snorted, shaking my head. “Maybe I ought to give you the radio next time,” Peggy added, turning to me. I nodded smiling. “I think that would be best.” I reached into my waistband, pulling the gun out and making to hand it back, but she waved me off. “Keep it. You may need it.” I nodded my gratitude, tucking it back. “Thank you, Agent Carter.” “Hey!” Steve and I turned as Bucky yelled. “Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

The soldiers around us erupted into applause. I looked around as some reached out to patted Steve shoulder. Steve smiled at Bucky, who smiled back at him. But I saw, as Steve looked away, Bucky’s smile drop. His lips flattened into an uneasy line, and his eyes darkened.

I knew Bucky well enough. This was the look he got when he saw Steve hurt badly, or didn’t know where the other had gotten off to after running his mouth off. This was fear. Tag list: @gloryevans @redryderdesigns @winter-scolder @aactuaaltraash @secretagentben @staplerrrr@moli1497@adayinmymeadow @allonszassbutt @mannls @witch-of-letters

#Love Isn't Always on Time #stucky #stucky x reader #stucky x you #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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