#i still can barely read it and only remember a few numbers in military time but my brain wasnt having it

[sabraeal]

To Taste of the Bitter Plant

[Read on AO3]

Written for @aeroplaneblues, who this year asked for either an Apothecary Diaries AU or a Skip to Loafer AU, and both of us could barely choose between them. Both were highlights of 2024 for us, and had their own unique challenges adapting them for obiyuki...but Apothecary Diaries won out! I just hope it was worth the wait!

Beware the men beyond the gates. Shirayuki can count on her hands the number of times the Virtuous Consort has betrayed her disgust— saved, for the most part, for traitors, improperly prepared sea perch, and the antics of a particular foreign prince— but her eyes narrowed with it then, contempt just barely concealed behind the wave of her fan. Soldiers think that any woman is theirs to take, so long as some other man hasn’t marked her first. And even then…

Shirayuki does not need the consort to finish the thought to take the warning. She knows only too well about men and their desires. And the sorts of things they might do to sate them, if they have the power.

But it is strange to apply knowledge gleaned from the darkest shadows of the flower district to the outer court's gleaming pavilions.

Whispers do eddy in her wake, men stopping to stare as she passes— did you see that? A girl with red hair. Outside the harem? She must belong to someone! If she were mine, I’d never let her out of the house— but none reach out to touch. Not here, where powerful men might bring a beloved concubine. But their interest is palpable, nonetheless, and their desire…

Ah, well, maybe she should have covered her head, as Mitsuhide has suggested. Or dressed herself up as a eunuch, like the Virtuous Consort. Or accepted a more visible sign of her allegiance, the way Zen had hoped.

Shirayuki lifts her fingers, shifting the slender stick speared through her hair. It’s silver— true silver, warming beneath her touch; even if the soldiers don’t recognize the wisteria blooming at one end, they’ll mark that. Few men could afford such a gift, and none of them are worth crossing; for all that the army men are rough, swaggering over the cobbles of the outer court, they are easily dissuaded from misbehavior that might damage their prospects. Nothing like the ones that stalk the alleys of the red light district, turned away from every reputable establishment. Entitlement, it seems, is an entirely different beast than desperation.

Still, it is at a brisk pace that Shirayuki strides across the pavilion; not that of a timid girl hurrying from one task to the next, but an officious maid on some important man’s business— which she is, technically. How far Zen’s name might reach outside the walls of the Inner Palace, she couldn’t say, but it might be enough to give a pushy man pause. Eunuchs rarely ranked highly among the men of the military, but a favorite of the emperor himself…

Do not make yourself beholden to any man, Yeye had told her, a finger waggling as she chased his heels. The only power you have in this world is that which you make with your own two hands.

Those same hands clench now, nails digging into the flesh of her palms before they release, falling away to float at her side. There’s nothing grasped within them yet, but that would change. Starting today, so long as she doesn’t disappoint Ryuu shi fu.

The carriage waits for her at the outer gate, just as Zen said it would. Windows shuttered, nondescript; the sort of conveyance that could be for any man who might be found wandering the outer pavilion. Her nerves balk as she approaches, begging her to remember the last time she’d been thrown on a cart, sent to places unknown—

But, she counters, forcing her breath to come out even, steady. That is how I ended up here.

It’s not much, but it's enough to get her through the door.

One of my men will be waiting there, Zen had promised, smile as soft as the brazier’s glow. Knowing you, Apothecary, you’ll need someone to watch your back. Close as he was, she’d already been flushed, the attention of the Inner Palace’s Overseer at his finest overwhelming to say the least. But she’d pitched a spirited protest— reminding him of her previous independence, and her many years living in a far more dangerous city for girls like her than he could ever imagine. Which had only led to him reminding her that in their short tenure together she has been kidnapped twice and the object of a potential assassination once.

Shirayuki allowed that perhaps a single guard might not go amiss. She could hardly complain when Mitsuhide was as circumspect a companion as any could ask for, never getting underfoot and only stepping in when the word of the Overseer would carry farther than her own. For all that he was as sweet as a young lady’s lapdog, officials quivered before him like hares before a hound. If she needed a minder, there were certainly worse for Zen to saddle her with

Which is why it’s such a surprise when he does.

“It’s you,” is the first thing to fall out of her mouth, and she just barely bites back the accompanying, why?

“I should introduce myself.” The man in court blue is not Mitsuhide at all— no, he’s smaller, more slender, with an all-too familiar set of gold eyes set below a straight-edged scar. The hand pressed to his chest is not so much callused as nicked, small scrapes striping his skin that healed less from proper attention and more from time. “I’m Obi. That’s not my real name though”— he admits it easily, proudly— “and everything else about me is a secret.”

She stands there for a moment, one beat chasing the heels of the next, before she stumbles out, “There must be some sort of mistake.”

*

“So what’s this little side trip all about anyway?” They’d left the sedan shuttered in the palace, saving her from the prying eyes of soldiers and court officials, but once they’re out on the city streets, Obi opens them, propping an elbow up up the sill. He’s long-limbed, this former assassin of hers, and curious too, head craning out into the open air as far as his anatomy will allow. “Some official got knocked off or something?”

“I don’t know the particulars of his position,” she informs him, primly. “But it’s someone important enough that Zen isn’t willing to record the cause of death as misadventure without some form of inquiry.”

It’s not until she catches the twitch of his mouth that she realizes— “Ah, I mean, Zen liang jun…?”

“Don’t worry, xiao jie.” One side of his mouth slips up, cocky and, quite honestly, infuriating. “Zhu ren has seen fit to explain that whole situation. Don’t gotta bother trying to act all formal in front of me. Honestly, I’m impressed that an attendant like you is interested in a little liaison with His Most Esteemed Eunuch-ness, even though he doesn’t have all the necessary equipment to get you—”

Warmth burns up her neck, heating her tongue like a hob does a kettle until, “And you’re sure Zen asked you to watch over me?” shrills out of her, scalding as steam.

“He even said I might be useful.” His chest puffs up beneath his robes, not one to be daunted or damned by faint praise. “But what about you, xiao jie? Seems funny to send off some consort’s food taster to solve the sort of thing a court official does.”

“I have some knowledge of medicinal plants.” An understatement, to say the least, but it’s not as if her former assassin needs to know about her apprenticeship. He probably wouldn’t even believe that a small eunuch child could be a master physician, let alone that she would permit him to act as her mentor. “There is a saying— perhaps you have heard it? The dose makes the poison.”

“That’s one way to think about it, I guess.” Her bodyguard is constant motion, eyes crinkling and limbs shifting; a whole theater packed into a person so narrow he might slip through the floorboards. “So what d’you think it is? Wolfsbane? Cinnabar? Maybe even snake—?”

“Fish.”

That’s enough to quiet him; all of his theories drying up like a stream in summer. “…Fish?”

“Pufferfish, to be exact.” She smooths her skirts over her knees, cotton a luxury against her palms. “It’s a delicacy. And if it’s not cut and served in precisely the right fashion, poison from its organs can leak into the flesh.”

He blinks, eyes flashing like coins across knuckle-back. “And rich people pay to eat it?”

“Yes.” Funny to hear a man like him balk at a risk to his life, but well— she’d thought the same when Garrack explained it to her.

They only prepare the fish? Even now she remembers how she sat back on her heels, utterly stymied. Nothing else?

How amused Garrack yi sheng must have been when she shook her head, knowing the sort of opulence the Emperor had at his own table. You have to remember: people with that much money and power live in a different world from us regular folk, Shirayuki.

Still. The protest even now sat bitter on her tongue. That hardly seems reasonable. Don’t they have some sort of common sense?

Garrack’s mouth had twitched, letting out, Not a lick of it.

“They pay quite a lot to not only eat it, but to have someone on their staff that is trained to prepare it," she informs him with the same briskness Garrack yi sheng had imparted it to her, as if it were common knowledge, an unquestionable truth.

“Even though they’re only going to eat it every one and a while?” He lets out a whistle, long and low. “That’s rich people for you. All the money in the world and they can’t buy themselves a bit of common sense.”

Shirayuki smothers a smile behind her sleeve. “Maybe so.”

*

It is a man that greets them at the door, well dressed for a servant, but head bowed too deeply to be the master of the estate. “My mistress has taken to her bed,” he explains briskly, not rude but simply busy. Harried, almost, pausing to look over his shoulder before leading them down a spacious corridor. “So it is I that will act as your guide for the day.”

“Is she feeling all right?” Shirayuki hurries her steps, careful not to draw insultingly close, but— interested. Concerned. “Is she having ill effects from the dinner? Should I look at her after I finish—?”

“Ah, no. Liera niang niang does not partake of the Master’s more…unique dinners.” His hand lifts, politely waving off her concern. “She is only fatigued from the strain of his passing. We are lucky that his brother was visiting and could take over the running of the house, or else I might fear for her nerves. She is not a strong woman, I am afraid…”

“How fortunate for you that your master’s brother was already here.” Obi’s smile sits politely on his lips, but there’s not a drip of sincerity in it. “It couldn’t have all fallen together better if he planned it.”

There’s no use to the warning glance she gives him, not when the servant only nods, eager to agree. “So you say! I cannot imagine what ills might have befallen us with both master and mistress unable to perform their duties. Now here is the kitchen. It has not been used since”— his voice drops, wary— “the incident.”

But it has been tidied, Shirayuki can’t help but notice. The cooking utensils are all clean and in their proper place, and whatever was left over from the fish has been tossed out. Not that she can blame them; fish guts didn’t just smell as they ripened, they lingered, long after the mess has been taken away. But what she's left with is only washed counters and organized shelves, jars and bottles sitting neatly, ready to be plucked from their perch when needed.

A fine place for cooking, no doubt, but for an investigation— well, there’d be no proving if it was the fish that caused the Master’s unfortunate demise. Which means she’ll have to approach it from the other angle: assuming that it wasn’t.

“Do you know what this is?” The jar falls into her hands with a rattle, four oblong berries skittering across the glass. Rolling them to a corner, she can see the four-point star on one of them, stark even through the deep amber drink.

Obi’s mouth curls, like a cat who has caught sight of an unwary bird. “It’s booze, xiao jie. Good stuff, with how clear it is.”

He lifts the lid, and the pungent scent of liquor rolls over her, metallic in her mouth. And yet beneath that, something sweet. “That’s not what I was asking.”

“Ah!” The servant bustles over, replacing the lid with a smile. “That’s roka liquor, Master’s favorite. He enjoys it— ah, forgive me, he enjoyed it frequently.”

“Frequently? Are you sure?” The sting of the scent still lingers, even after the man’s tucked it back on the shelf. “I hadn’t realized it was so…popular.”

“It isn’t.” Pride puffs his chest like a rooster strutting through a hen house. “Master is— ah, was a connoisseur of rarer delicacies. An associate introduced him to it just a few months ago, and he could not get enough of the taste. He always said—

“What is going on here?” If Shirayuki had thought the servant finely dressed, the man at the door is even more so, the green silk of his robe bright and finely embroidered with waterfowl flying from a pond. The master’s brother, it seems, scowling at the lot of them as he sweeps in. His eyes dart over each corner, accounting for every last spoon out of place. “No one is allowed to enter the kitchen without permission.”

“Ah, zong guan.” The servant cast a nervous look back at them before bowing over his hands. “These are…ah, you remember, we were told—?”

“So you let them in?” The man does not so much approach as descend, falling upon the servant the way a hound might a quivering hare. “Off the street? I told you that no one—”

Obi steps between them in one smooth motion, one hand pressed solicitously to his chest. “Pardon me, da ren, it seems you have not heard. We are part of the palace’s investigation into the death of your brother.”

His brow furrows, fouling his already sour expression. “Well, no one informed me that there was any inquiry! I certainly didn’t request one.”

Her former assassin’s smile turns to all teeth. “The request came from Liera niang niang.”

“Leira—?” The man sputters, practically pacing the length of the room before turning back and beginning again. “That woman! I am the master of this house in my brother’s absence—”

“Xiao jie.” Obi turns to her, voice low, all of his levity gone. “Do you need more time?”

She does not need to hear him say it to know he really means, this man is not going to give us it if you do.

With one last look at the jar, its cloying scent still caught in her nose, she shakes her head.

“Good,” he murmurs, mouth curling into a wolfish grin. “Then let’s get out when the getting is still good.”

*

“So you’re telling me it wasn’t the fish?”

The Virtuous Consort is not famed for her mobility of expression, but there is a hint of amusement lingering in its corners as Zen throws himself back in one of her chairs, disgruntled huff exploding from his lips. “There’s no need to be petulant. One cannot be an expert in every subject”

“I didn’t say I had to be,” he snaps, arms folding over his chest; less like a man of authority and more like a put out young lord. “I just thought…well, I’d been so sure…”

“It was not the fish that led to the death of your acquaintance.” Shirayuki glances at Obi, and he slips a clear glass bottle out from his voluminous sleeve, setting it on the table. It is quickly followed by another, this time tinted brown, and well— she’ll be giving him a firm talking to about just what is appropriate to take from the medical office later, but for now, his act of petty theft only aids her explanation. “However, there was something else at his table that was dangerous enough to take a life.”

Obi places down two shallow cups— she hadn’t seen him pocket those either, nor had the Virtuous Consort, by the height of her brows— and pours liquor into both of them. “Both of these bottles contain roka liquor, but only one of them is from the estate, and the other is from the medical office.”

“Oh.” Zen grimaces; a sure sign that it’s been pressed on him before. Hardly a surprise when Garrack calls it her favorite cold remedy. “Why would he have this hanging around? It’s not really the season for coughs or colds.”

“His servant said that a business associate had brought him a bottle a few months ago to serve with dinner.” She glances up to where Zen lounges, one hand propped on the chair’s arm, casually cupped around chin. “Leira zong guan developed quite a taste for it.”

That careless posture cracks down the middle with a splutter. “T-that stuff? A taste? Was he some sort of glutton for punishment or something?”

“I admit, I was surprised too.” Few medicines had such enthusiastic receptions. Effective ones, at least. “It’s used often in the medical office, but it’s known for having a bitter, astringent taste. Unpleasant, to say the least. But after having it with his dinner, he bought a whole case of bottles off of his associate, to serve when he has his more…unique meals.”

“All right, so Leira clearly had odd tastes when it comes to his liquor.” Zen frowns down at the cups on the table, thoughtful. “But what does that have to do with his death?”

“Plenty. Although it might seem like a relatively easy process, fermenting roka berries is much harder than it seems.” She hefts one of the bottles into her hands, letting the berries rattle along the bottom of the glass. “Any alcohol has the ability to turn to poison if it’s brewed the wrong way, but wines— which is what this is, even if we call it liquor— do not often turn. However…there is a component inside these berries that, when fermented under certain conditions, turns to poison.”

He shifts closer, squinting at the bottles. “Under certain conditions?”

Shirayuki sets the two bottles beside each other. “In the first few months after I came here, Ryuu shifu taught me that certain plants are particularly potent at certain times of day. For the roka berry, its potency is at its highest at the brightest part of the day. However, we pick it in the morning, at dawn’s first light.”

Zen’s smile slants knowingly. “Ah, because that is when the poison would be at its most potent as well.”

“Exactly. Which is why we store them in a cellar underground during their fermentation—”

“And used these darker bottles too, right, xiao jie?” Obi plucks it from her hand, grinning as he lets the berries rattle across the glass. “So even when you take them up to the office, you aren’t letting them get a bunch of light.”

She blinks. “Yes. Though truth be told, even that probably wouldn’t be enough to activate the poison. Despite being called a berry, the outer skin is hard, and it makes it difficult for anything but the medicinal oils to diffuse into the alcohol for some time. But it is common with wines that when a first fermentation comes out too astringent, you may ferment it a second time— back sweetening, it’s called. Quite literally, it makes the wine sweeter.”

“So roka liquor doesn’t have to taste like bile?” The betrayal in Zen’s voice lays thick, like a child who has found a sliver of green pepper hidden in his dumpling.

“No, no, xiao jie— you said that the skin makes it hard for anything but the oils to get out for some time.” Obi glances down at the cups. “And that back sweetening, I’m guessing— that’s past the point where the poison decides to sit this one out.”

Shirayuki nods. “The skin breaks down enough over the process where the costs begin to outweigh the benefits. Also not enough on its own to kill a man, but…”

“But between the sweetening…and the clear glass…probably not fermented in some cellar anyway…” Zen stares at the table, glancing between the two bottles, no longer sitting behind their cups. “Which one…?”

She grimaces. “Ah…whichever one is sweet?”

“Welp,” Obi huffs, swaggering over to the table. “Only one way to find out!”

Shirayuki might be next to him, but he scoops up a cup too quickly for her to do anything but gasp, “Wait!”

“Huh,” he hums, licking his lips. “That is a little sweet, isn’t it?”

Mitsuhide is already scrambling out from behind Zen’s chair, pounding the other eunuch on the back. “Obi!”

“Shirayuki!” Zen turns wide eyes to her, pleading, but he hardly needs to ask, not when she’s already digging through her bag.

“I have an emetic,” she promises, and before she can even fully hold it out, Mitsuhide sweeps it from her grasp.

“No wait!” Obi gasps, one hand pressed to his chest, the other warding the bigger man off. “I’m only—“

It’s no use— once he opens his mouth, Mitsuhide pours the concoction down it, leaving him coughing, gasping, retching—

And finally, with one generous heave, he empties the contents of his stomach into the basin one of the consort’s ladies hurry to give him. He must have had a larger lunch than she’d seen him pick at on their way back to the palace; it goes on for what feels like hours.

It’s the cough that tells her he’s done, and the deadpan glare as he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “I was going to say, zhu ren,” he rasps. “I was joking.”

“You…” Zen stands, towering over where he crouches, more angry god than man. “Have a terrible sense of humor.”

“Yeah, well…” Obi saws out a laugh. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

*

“So.” The Virtuous Consort sets her mask aside once Zen and his aides have left, no longer the stand- offish daughter of the north, but just a normal girl, not much older than her. “What weren’t you telling them?”

“I wasn’t” —she draws short, catching Kiki’s pointed glare— “trying to keep anything from them, not really.”

“Of course. You just won’t tell them anything that might condemn a man if you’re not certain.” Her head tilts, the stream of sunlight that passes for her hair cascading over one shoulder. “So what is it that you aren’t certain about? Or shall I guess instead?”

Shirayuki glances at the corners of the room; empty, her other attendants handily dismissed. Other girls might duck around an archway or press their ears to the door, but if those ladies linger, they have at least done her the dignity of being impossible to detect.

“Why now?”

Kiki blinks, her slippered feet tucked into the cushion beneath her. “What do you mean?”

“His servant said that he had acquired a taste for it. And certainly a back sweetened brew would have held poison, but…” She licks her lips, mind churning like running water over stone. “The other bottles there— they were brown. Still not safe, but…a slower death. So why then. Why…?”

“The clear bottle.” Kiki nods, thoughtful. “Why now?”

“It was a gift from his brother.” She’d barely needed to press the servant at all; simply praising the fine vintage as he saw them out to the carriage was enough. “But where could he have gotten it? Apothecaries typically brew their own, if only to know that it’s done properly. He could have done it on his own but…”

“It’s not the thing a man hoping to be a high ranking court official would dirty his hands with.” Her brows furrow, gaze fixed out to the courtyard beyond. “So the question is, who did?”

“Someone had to have made it— and then given it to him! Told him what it could do, and…” Despite the warmth of the summer months, the night presses in cold around her. “They’re still out there.”

“Ha.” Kiki shakes her head. “Now there’s a thought to keep a person up at night.��

[navibluebees]

Pieces of a Soul - Chapter 2

Please read before interacting.

Contains short descriptions of injuries from the first chapter and being stitched up.

Naomi cried out as her hip hit the ground. She felt jostled and sore all over. She vaguely remembered hearing the Na'vi language being spoken as she thudded against a solid form again and again. She blinked slowly, trying to adjust to her surroundings

A mix of dark blue faces looked back at her, some shocked, some cautious, and more than a few with disdain or fury. Quickly registering she was among the Omaticaya, she tried to rise, but realized she had been bound. Panic spread through her chest before a familiar face popped up in front of hers.

Jake Sully gently shook her shoulders. "Hey, kid! You alright?" Her wrists and ankles relaxed as he cut the bonds loose. Once her eyes centered on his, he continued. "I am so sorry for those knuckleheads. They weren't expecting humans so close and let their anger take over." He put a hand to his throat, speaking through his earpiece. "Hey, Norm. We've got one of your clean up crew. Yeah, green botany patch. Name patch says Rhodes. We'll head your way with her in a bit."

Jake Sully. A face she could never forget. his image, both human and Omaticaya, had been on screens at Hell's Gate. Number one enemy for trying to protect these people. How ridiculous. It had been a relief when the military goons and greedy RDA members had been sent home. Since that time, the cleanup had been the only interaction with the forest. No samples, no explorations. The Omaticaya needed time to trust the humans again. She could understand their anger, but damn, this hurt.

Over Jake's shoulder, she could see a group of young hunters. Neytiri pushed her hand into the chest of the tallest. His shoulders heaved as she berated him. "Unacceptable. If there is an issue, you come to us. Do not handle this alone. Go. Calm yourself."

Naomi's eyes were about to drop when he met her gaze. She shrank away from the malice in his stare before her wrenched his eyes away. He turned, shoving through the group of hunters and sprinted into the forest. A tall, lithe female glanced after him before turning to Naomi and giving her a sorrowful smile.

Neytiri couched down and put a gentle hand on Jake's shoulder. "I'll take her to my mother before we return her." Jake nodded and Naomi gave a soft whimper as Neytiri scooped her up to go to Mo'at.

After placing her on the ground by her mother, Neytiri said she would return soon to take her back to the humans. Mo'at knelt next to her and assessed the damages. Bruises around her neck that were not likely to go away anytime soon. Small cuts across her upper body and even a bit of a gash on her lower leg. One glance told Naomi that it would have to be stitched up.

The shelter flap whispered as someone stepped in. Assuming it was Neytiri, she glanced up to thank her when she made eye contact with the same female from earlier. "Oh, Mìmuk! Please help me so we can get her home."

Mìmuk's eyes never left Naomi's as she sat down beside her and addressed Mo'at with a nod. "Yes, Tsahìk."

Mo'at continued to mix up her poultice. She scooped a small bit with her finger and smoothed it lightly over Naomi's skin. She winced as pain flickered through her body and gritted her teeth to get through it. Mo'at and Mìmuk continued their application until all that was left were the stitches.

Mo'at delicately rinsed the torn skin, then looked to Mìmuk and said, "Keep her still." Then to Naomi, "I am sorry, child. I will try to finish quickly."

Naomi quietly cried out as the first stitch poked through. A needle for the Na'vi was much larger than a human one. Breathing raggedly, she grunted through the next stitch. She felt like she could barely draw in a breath. Opening her eyes, she was shocked to see Mìmuk's hand splayed across her chest.

Mìmuk gently patted her head, flattening her damp curls. Naomi brought both hands up to grip Mìmuk's, their fingers curling around each other's. She softly shushed Naomi and hummed a quiet song to her. Entranced, Naomi's eyes widened. Mìmuk offered a shy smile and said, "Your eyes look like the forest." Naomi flushed deeply and stuttered, unsure what to say. A cloth wrapping around her leg saved her from having to respond as Mo'at finished.

Neytiri reappeared, her bow across her body and stated it was time to leave. Mìmuk spoke up, asking, "May I come? I will carry her." With a quick nod, Neytiri turned to go. Mìmuk helped Naomi up before taking her up, one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. Naomi reached to clasp Mo'at's hand in thanks before they departed.

~~~

The woods were filled with small noises and bioluminescence was everywhere. This was the first time Naomi has seen it and her mouth popped open in awe. Mìmuk fought a small smile from her face.

Along with Mìmuk, Jake, and Neytiri, a couple other hunters traversed smoothly across the forest floor. The others were in the front and back of the small group. Naomi took in a quick breath and said, "Thank you for your help. My name is Naomi. It's nice to meet you." Mìmuk gave a surprised glance, not expecting her to speak but quickly whispered, "It is nice to meet you too. Naomi." She let the syllables roll around her tongue in sweetest way. Face tinged with pink, Naomi was thankful for the darkness.

They traveled for a moment in companionable silence before Mìmuk spoke up. "What Keveya did was extreme. Please try to understand. His parents were killed at the home tree. He is an only child. He has the clan, but he is still lonely. He wasn't always this way."

Naomi gasped as she heard his story. She wept silently for Keveya and others like him in the clan. To lose both parents and your home at once was unimaginable. Her sorrow and guilt crested in a wave, threatening to drown her before she shoved it down. This wasn't her fault. She couldn't have stopped it. She-

She pressed against Mìmuk's chest as they stopped. A chopper sat in the clearing ahead, its blades still whirring. Jake, Neytiri, and Mìmuk stepped forward while the other two held back. Norm and Max jumped down and ran up to Jake who knelt and apologized for the young group of hunters.

Mìmuk continued closer to the helicopter, eyes wary, before setting Naomi down on the edge and helping her scoot into a seat. She placed a soft hand against Naomi's cheek and crouched down. "Goodbye, little one. We will meet again."

~~~

Once back at the base, Norm and Max looked her over and gave an antibiotic shot before helping her back to her room. It felt like barely a second before she had fallen into a sleep even deeper than cryo.

***

Thank you for reading! :)

[simsadventures]

Panopticon: Chapter 27: War Path

Alpha Steve x Omega Reader

Summary: Steve is livid and tries to find you but somebody keeps putting obstacles in his way. You, on the other hand, get to meet the devils and learn some harsh truths.

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, angst, abduction, slight mentions of torture, life in captivity, lying, swearing, mentions of violence against women, shitty people in general, loads of feels, I would hope, mentions of suicide, mentions of death

Word Count: 3800

A/N: Du dun… Who is ready for some angst? Many of you weren’t happy that we’re taking this route, but it needed to happen because the world is full of assholes who try to make people unhappy. Anyway, so excited about this one, and I can’t wait for you to tell me what you thought. Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

< Previous Chapter 

“That won’t help to find my Omega, so no!” Steve yelled across the whole room, and even the experienced Alpha fighters gathered in the room couldn’t help but shudder at Steve’s authoritative voice. They were trying to help, coming up with new ideas to try and bring the Circle down, or at least make somebody from the inside communicate with them to tell Steve and his team the location of his Omega. But no idea was good enough for Steve. 

It had been four days. Four days without his precious Omega, and Steve felt like he was slowly losing his mind. He desperately needed you next to him, just to feel your warm, soft skin pressed against his, or to see the light in your eyes whenever you looked at him. But he had nothing. 

He often saw broken Alphas after all that went down on Earth a few years ago, and while he couldn’t really imagine what they must have been feeling at that time, walking like dead men, some of them on the brink of death because they just couldn’t handle their lives without their loved ones, Steve understood it all now. 

He knew he had to concentrate because he felt you in his veins, felt that you were alright considering the circumstances and, most importantly, that you were still alive. That was the sole reason why he didn’t end it yet. But he was hanging on a thread because each day and night he had to spend without you, his mind was going just a little more insane. He was hearing your voice and this morning, he even saw you standing by the bed. He was elated, but when he blinked a few more times, he realised that it was his brain playing tricks on him and that none of what had happened was just a nightmare. 

Moreover, he had to orchestrate a funeral for Peter and Gamora. The sadness over their loss was embedded deep in Steve’s soul, and he knew he would never get over it, even if he got you back. When he got you back, he scolded himself every time he thought of it, but it was to no avail. The desperation and pain seeped deep into his bones, and the once positive Alpha, who used to be full of life was just a walking shell of numbness. 

Sam and Bucky tried to pick up the mood in the room now and then, but they knew all too well that there was nothing they could say or do to make the situation better. The only thing Steve really needed was to get you back, and they empathised with him. Moments after the realisation hit them that you were indeed gone, they rushed to their own huts to check on their own mates. Their bonds felt fine, but the fucked-up situation got into their heads, and they needed to see their loves for themselves. Both Meera and Tina were sitting comfortably in their houses, unaware of the terror going on just mere meters away from them. They all spent the afternoon scenting and crying, their hearts clenching for their friend who was lost in his thoughts and his pain. 

But Steve tried to come up with a solution. He knew Rumlow would take you somewhere far, but not far enough not to brag about it. The circle was almost a day drive so Steve would have bet Rumlow’s hiding place was somewhere between his own house and the hell house they called the Omega haven. But that was still too much land to cover just by foot or by car, since there were so many abandoned houses and warehouses, not even talking about all the hidden places deep in the forests. So, just going somewhere blindly was not an option. 

Then, he thought of using what was left of the functioning camera system between the city and his lands, trying to see if he could pinpoint at least the direction where Rumlow and his team went. But he came up with nothing since most of the cameras had been destroyed soon after the war had started. 

Steve even thought of taking some military dogs and making them sniff your clothes to find you, but that would mean hundreds of kilometres to search, and that was just impossible. Every single thing Steve came up with was a nonsense, and the longer he couldn’t figure out how to find you, the more desperate and angry he had become. His people knew it was nothing personal, but his yelling and blaming was sometimes too difficult to bear for any of them. Steve knew he was being a dick, and he apologised every time his nerves got the better of him, but it was like he couldn’t do anything about it. 

It was when Bucky spoke up with a guilty look that Steve finally got a good idea from somebody. Not that he particularly liked it, but it was something useful at last, and Steve was actually quite angry with himself for not thinking of it sooner. The idea was to call Peggy because she was always able to find Rumlow a little easier than the rest of the world. How that worked exactly Steve never asked, because Peggy was one of those who kept their work pretty shut, and she wouldn’t brag or even talk about it, so Steve had barely any idea of what Peggy really did. There used to be times when he minded when it drove him up the wall, but not anymore. He didn’t care how she did it, the only thing Steve needed was to get you back. 

He called her almost immediately, listening to her smooth voice as she assured him that she would devote a majority of her time to help him because, after all, she still cared for him very much. Steve thanked her from the bottom of his heart and resolved to wait for her to come back to him since there was literally nothing else to do for him but to wallow in his pain. 

Surprisingly, it only took a few hours for Peggy to reach out and tell Steve that she might have found him. His heart started beating like crazy as if feeling that he might be getting you in his arms sooner than he expected. Peggy told him that she got the memo that Rumlow was hiding in an old warehouse south of the manor, around 70 kms away, and Steve just growled, knowing he was kind of right in his assumptions. He quickly gathered his team, not really speaking much, but they all understood. This was a life or death mission because most of the team was sure Steve wouldn’t survive that if they didn’t find you. 

Steve pretty much jumped out of a moving car when they neared the building, and he got to work immediately, going into the commander mode, assigning roles and talking strategy for when they would come in contact with Rumlow’s team. Everything was meticulously planned, and Steve had a good feeling about that. The only issue was that he couldn’t smell you. But he simply thought that he was still far enough to be able to do that and that they were probably keeping you in some shutoff room.

The closer to the building they got, however, the weirder the whole situation felt. No men were standing outside on the lookout, there were no specific smells to tell the team that there were indeed people hiding inside, and when they finally got in, they found the place completely empty. 

They rummaged through all the rooms, even in the basement and on the roof, but the only thing they got was some cloth lightly smelling like Rumlow, but not enough to tell them how long ago he was at the warehouse. Steve screamed in frustration because there was no sign of you, not even a hint of your smell that he so helplessly craved. 

Bucky and Sam shared distressed looks before they each grabbed Steve from one side and brought him back to the car, hollering at the whole team that the mission was over and that they needed to come back home. Steve didn’t speak the entire ride back, just staring out of the window, thinking of all the times you two would take such rides to and from the city, always discussing new books or just sharing stories from your youths. Steve now found that he took these moments for granted. He enjoyed them, sure, but not enough. There was the nagging voice telling him that he should have done more, that he ought to have taken you with him to that fucking meeting, and none of this would have happened. 

“Stop it, punk. None of this is your fault so stop with the self-blaming and call Peggy to tell you what the fuck happened that her tip wasn’t true,” Bucky interjected Steve’s thoughts, and as many times before, Steve wondered whether Bucky could just read him like an open book or if he had a direct link to his brain. Steve shook his head and dialled the number. 

“So, happily ever after?” Peggy said smugly, and if she stood anywhere near Steve, he swore he would have hit her. 

“Nothing and nobody’s fucking happy, Peggy. Nobody was there except for some piece of cloth that was supposed to smell like Rumlow. Who the fuck gave you this tip? I need to find my Omega, and I don’t have the time to drive around the city and march into every single abandoned building just because you have a hunch. I need real information, Peggy, and if you can’t give that to me, then you’re just wasting my time,” Steve said more tiredly than anything else, but Peggy’s face contorted in annoyance on the other end of the line. 

“I never waste your time, Stevie, you remember that. Look, I thought the info was top-notch, but I’ll keep looking. How about I come to your place, and we can think of a plan together?” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever, it definitely can’t harm us. I’ll be expecting you,” Steve sighed and hung up, nodding at Sam who was watching him through the rearview mirror. 

“Peggy said she’d come and help from the mansion. I mean, I’d rather have the whole fucking team together looking for Y/N, but I can’t fly everyone here from god-knows-where, so anyone who wants to join in is welcomed.” 

Sam nodded but didn’t like it one bit. He understood that Steve was desperate, but Peggy was and had always been bad news, and Sam had a hard time trusting her even back in the days when they had to fight side to side. All the secrecy surrounding her just stank, and Sam was sure he’d keep an eye on her, just in case. He wanted everything to go over smoothly for Steve, and nobody needed a sneaky bitch who would throw them under a train the second she got a better deal from the opposing side. 

You let your hand slide on the ground underneath you. It was rough with what felt like small rocks that were cutting you in the palm. You were seated, and your whole body hurt since you have been in this position for hours. Nobody talked to you since they killed your friends and abducted you. They just blindfolded you and tied you up, changing positions every few hours probably to disorient you since you doubted anybody really cared how comfortable you were. All you could do was rely on your senses and learn as much about your surroundings as you could. You weren’t even sure why you cared, but your brain couldn’t take thinking about anything related to Steve, so you busied it by making sure you knew everything you could. 

You learned that there were three places they would keep you in. You presumed that they were all in one room, but they changed whether you were sitting or lying down. You weren’t even sure what time it was and slept when they put you laid you down. Nobody ever touched you inappropriately, and that’s how you assumed not one of those people was Rumlow. 

The first place they would let you sit in was in an old crinkly chair made of rough wood as you had a few splinters from rubbing your hands against the arm-holders. It had four metal legs, and from the sounds, it made every time you shifted, you thought it was a rather old and overused piece of furniture. 

The second place was where you were sitting now. It was by the wall, which was cold and smelt of moss, and you even though you sensed death a few times, you knew that was just your exhausted brain playing games with you. The ground was full of rocks and shards of glass, so it was your least favourite place to be of the three. The ground was colder than all the other areas, and every time they made you stand up, there was a wet patch where your ass touched the ground as the coldness accumulated against your hot body, making you wish you could just change. But your abductees would never answer to your pleas, so after what you assumed were a few days, you just gave up asking them altogether. 

The third place was a makeshift bed, created out of a few pieces of wood pushed together and an old and smelly mattress. You tried to ignore all that the smell evoked in you, but you sometimes choked on your own saliva as you shifted and changed position, getting another whiff of what smelt like a hundred of butts and sweat. But it was a mattress, and you could get a few hours of sleep, so you couldn’t dwell on the details. 

When you found out everything there was with your surroundings you tried to pay attention to your abductors. And while you couldn’t say precisely how many there were, you had a pretty good idea. As you were an Omega, blindfolded and cuffed, they always came alone, and you recognised each of the people by their steps. There were four of them, each of them having differences in their weight, the length of their steps and the carefulness with which they handled you. That’s how you came up with the number of four. 

Number two was by far your favourite. They (you assumed it was a he but you couldn’t be sure) would always leave you alone even when you needed to use the bathroom. You knew they were in the room, but they had the decency to at least not physically touch you, and, in your mind, you created this picture that the person even turned around to leave you to do your business. They would also give you the biggest amount of water, seeing how you were parched because number four was a complete asshole and would always allow only a gulp before he drastically took the cup away from your mouth. 

And that was your days, filled with diverting your brain from thinking about the graver questions, like where were you, would Steve ever find you, what did they want from you, etc. Every time any of those popped up in your head, you choked up, and had to start touching your surroundings or else you’d have gone insane by now. 

It was when number three was supposed to come and let you sleep that you heard it. It was faint, but your ears perked up at anything that wasn’t your own breath or the sound of boots of your abductors hitting the ground. And this was neither. These were human voices talking about something behind the door. Your heart-rate picked up immediately because, while you hated the routine of four guards and three positions, you also knew that routine was good. Anything that was out of the routine could possibly mean death to you, and you tried to do anything to avoid that. The voices grew nearer, and you shuddered involuntarily, bracing yourself. 

When the door opened, the cold air hit your face, and you hid it between your shoulder blades. 

“Well, well, well, here is the famous Omega the world is searching for. You look so pathetic, it’s actually quite funny,” you heard a female voice say, and your brows knitted together. You heard it before, you just couldn’t place the voice for the life of you. 

“Yeah, well, the sooner she stops pining for that pathetic excuse of an Alpha and becomes mine, she will look much better. I mean, not that anybody’s gonna see her since she is just an Omega pussy, but she is my Omega pussy, so,” the man trailed off, and you didn’t have to think to place this voice. This voice haunted your worst nightmares, so you were pretty familiar with it. 

Rumlow

“Whatever, Rumlow. All we need is to get rid of her mating mark, and we’ll be good. Steve called me and found the warehouse where I sent him empty, and I, as a devoted friend, told him I’d help him from the mansion so I’ll have easy access to him and I will divert him from here if need be. You just need to do what you must so that I can have him back,” the woman spat, and it was as if a light bulb switched on. God, you felt stupid for not suspecting she had her ugly fingers in this. Fucking Peggy who obviously wanted Steve back even when she visited him all those months ago. 

And while it was nice that Steve didn’t feel the same, this woman was clearly a maniac, and she wouldn’t stop at anything to get what she wanted. 

But, there was one more thing that caught your attention. They wanted to get rid of your mating mark, and the thought paralysed your whole body. There were only a few ways to do that to any mated couple, and none of them was humane or accepted by most people. You’ve heard of Omegas trying to sever their bonds as they didn’t like who chose them, and so they cut a clean line across their mark, but even then the bond couldn’t be severed completely. There was also the option of just biting an Omega hard enough where their mates’ mark was, and trying to beat mark with a mark. 

You also heard that true mates were inseparable, and while Bruce told you that you were true mates, you could never know for sure. The inseparableness of true mates could just as well be some old maid tales, it was one of the things your mother used to tell you, but you had no idea where the truth was. 

The only thing you did know was that however they wanted to do it, you would go through hell, both physically and mentally, and that there was a more than likely chance that you would die in the process. 

“You’re not afraid she’ll die on you?” Peggy asked more curious than concerned because, for her plan to work, your ties with Steve had to be cut. She would have preferred killing you since it was easier, quicker and with long-lasting results. But Rumlow had been obsessed with you ever since he lost the fight with Steve back at the Circle. When Peggy heard about it, she just scoffed and told him he was an idiot, because if he would have called her, she could have just snuck you out without anyone knowing and they wouldn’t have been in this mess. 

“I mean, there’s always the possibility, but I’m not letting her run around with his mark. I wouldn’t like pounding a pussy marked by somebody else. Besides, she’s stronger than she looks, isn’t it right, pussycat?” Rumlow asked, for the first time addressing you. But you knew better than to talk, so you just remained quiet, and from the low hum coming from his mouth, you assumed it was a good decision. 

“And what if that bullshit about true mates is real?” 

“Oh, please, not you too. Nothing like true mates exists, Peggy, I told you. Some just smell nicer to particular individuals than others, that’s it. I don’t even know why we’re losing time talking about this. Go and do whatever you want with Steve and his estate and I’ll just do what I want with this one,” Rumlow rumbled, and the next thing you heard was the clicking of high-heels against the hard floor, leaving you alone in the room with the devil. 

“Now, sweetheart, I think we should begin, hm?”

“Oh, Stevie, you don’t look good. Here, let me bring you to your bedroom so you can rest and the team and I will search for your mate in the meantime, hm?” Peggy suggested nicely, and Steve nodded, happy there was somebody who could possibly save you. But before she put her claws on his arm, Sam appeared out of nowhere and stopped her hand. She hissed like a cat and Sam gave her an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. 

“I think it would be better if you stayed down here, Peggy, as you said, you are such a valuable asset to this team that I wouldn’t want to you to waste your time by going with Steve here. I will accompany him to his bedroom so that he can get some sleep, and, meanwhile, you can work with Bucky,” Sam smirked but didn’t wait for her response as he led Steve towards the staircase and up to his bedroom. There was no fucking way in hell Sam would let Peggy be with Steve alone. And since he shared his worries with Bucky, there were two of them looking out for their best friend, which left Peggy in a tough position. 

She watched Sam and Steve leave the room, and Bucky would laugh hadn’t it been such a delicate situation, because Peggy really looked like the Goddess of Revenge. That just further proved Sam’s theory about Peggy being fishy, to say the least, and Bucky was starting to question whether she didn’t have something to do with your disappearance. 

Peggy saw right through them, and she smirked to herself. If they wanted to play games with her, so be it. She would get Steve alone and inject the serum in him she had been making for so long, and they would finally live happily ever after. Just like they were supposed to. All she needed was to stay close to Steve for a couple of days, get him alone enough times, and he would be all hers. 

/ Next Chapter > 

Tags will be in reblogs xx

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter four // three days on drunken sin

summary: bucky decides to rifle through those boxes and finds the will to make the first move.

warnings: food/eating, nothing too bad this time!

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: how are we feeling about this week’s episode?? we’re getting closer to the start of tfatws with this chapter!! hope i don’t break your heart too much with the boxes :)

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The boxes taunted him for three days.

Three stacks of two boxes each cluttered his entranceway, each with that familiar scrawl of Steve’s God-awful handwriting.

‘BUCKY’

All caps, in black Sharpie, underlined three times just for good measure. Steve was always good at getting his message across.

He didn’t want to know what was in them, he told himself. But Steve was gone, and this was all he had left. These, that stupid notebook he still hadn’t found the will to write in, and the shield that was kicking around Sam’s apartment somewhere.

He wanted to toss them in his building’s dumpster, to push these aside like he did with everything else in his life. Out of sight, out of mind. That week, he didn’t tell his therapist about the boxes, or Sam’s unexpected visit, or his neighbor that he was now avoiding like the plague. Thankfully, she chalked his silence up to Steve and tried to fill in the conversational lulls with suggestions of amends and lists and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

Like always, sleep never came.

He knew the single night in his bed was a fluke, but he kept trying at least. He’d untuck his flat sheet from under hit mattress, fluff his pillow, and tuck himself in. Within five minutes, he was back on the hardwood floor of his living room, the lamplights illuminating his window and casting a perfect shadow on those stupid boxes. Finally, on the third night, he huffed a sigh and sat up, his arm whirring at the sudden movement. He wasn’t accomplishing anything letting them sit and gather dust.

Bucky reached under the cushions of his couch, fishing for the knife he had stashed away and got to work slicing through the clear packing tape securing each one.

The first five boxes were files. Mission reports, everything Steve could get his hands on about The Winter Soldier. The translations were rough, the descriptions weren’t as vivid as he remembered them now, and it wasn’t even close to everything. Why Steve kept them when Bucky was working to erase every trace of this from the universe, he would never understand. Steve was sentimental, even with the bad stuff. Bucky glanced over the files scattered across his entranceway, which maybe amounted to a year of his missions. If Zemo had looked in some suburb in upstate New York, he would have found everything he needed.

The dumpster behind his building was starting to feel more and more enticing.

The last box felt different. Significantly lighter and smaller, the items rolling and clanking as he dragged it towards him. He braced himself for more files, more reminders of what he had done as though they didn’t exist in his mind every second of the day.

The first thing he recognized was his mother’s handwriting. ‘Recipes’, scrawled so perfectly on a yellowing label.

The tin box was tinted with age, dented after so many years. He laughed and could remember it tucked away on the top shelf of the cabinet by the fridge, just out of Rebecca’s reach, even when she’d stand on her tiptoes in search of it. His Ma rarely fished it out, other than to let his little sister read over the ingredients with sticky hands as she helped stir pots and peel potatoes. She had them memorized by the time she was a teenager, having transcribed her own mother’s recipes onto these little cards. He was sure Rebecca did, too.

Next was the worn fabric of his Ma’s favorite apron. Yellow embroidered flowers scattered the crimped edge, strings falling loose. He recognized some of the stains, from spaghetti night and cake batter that she let dry on the cloth for too long.

Finally, a worn silver chain was buried at the bottom of the box.

JAMES B BARNES 32557038 T42 A

Of course, Steve with all his connections and know-it-all attitude and ‘I can do this all day’ would find some way to find his dog tags, probably tucked away in some ancient Hydra file. His flesh fingers ran over the indentation of his name, pressed into metal like millions of other boys had, off to fight a war that had nothing to do with them. Everything to lose, nothing to gain.

When he was most alone, settled into muddy trenches with wet socks and a stiff military jacket, he would recite those numbers out into the night sky. He’d map constellations over his head, wondering if it would be his last night and all there would be left of him would be those stupid discs of metal clanking around his neck and the letter tucked away in his jacket breast pocket, addressed to his mother.

His mother was long gone, he knew that. But to a fully conscious James Buchanan Barnes – not the Winter Soldier - he had only seen her a few years ago when he shipped off.

After a moment, he pulled the chain of his dog tags over his head, settling them under his shirt. His ears rung with the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The sound of dragging feet and the jangle of your keychain signaled your return from class.

His family was gone, Steve included. The only people he has left are halfway across the world, or off on some death-defying mission wearing metal bird wings. Except you, who still leaves bags of cookies on his front door mat, despite the silent treatment from his end. His maybe too friendly neighbor who poured over lists of albums for him to find taped to his door in barely legible handwriting when you should have been studying.

His mother’s recipe box was calling his name.

-

The knock on your door startled you from your nap. Well, if you can call dozing off at your desk using a law book as a makeshift pillow a nap. You stalled in your desk chair, eyes bleary as you squinted at your front door, then at the top corner of your computer.

2:36 AM

You nuzzled back into your book, content to chalk it up to your sleep deprived brain making things up.

The second knock was much more insistent and was certainly coming from your door. You rushed out of your chair, sock-clad feet dragging the blanket draped across your shoulders as you shuffled over, the knocking never ceasing. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, peering out your peephole into the dark hallway.

Bucky, with slumped shoulders and a bowed head, trying with all of his might to make himself as small as possible still took up so much of the doorway with his broad shoulders.

You should be mad at him.

You should go to bed, ignore him like he’d been ignoring you for the past few weeks. Like you hadn’t shared late nights and he hadn’t sat in your kitchen, licking your spoons clean or tucked into your couch just to watch you study, a new record playing gently. Your forehead pressed to the door, vile building in your throat as seething words collected on your tongue.

“I know you’re there.” His voice was muffled through the wooden door, feeling so close but sounding so far away. “We should work on you dragging your feet, doll.”

If you had taken another peek, you would have seen him pressing his forehead to the other side.

“You ignored me, Bucky.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, even through the door. “Some family stuff came up. But it’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

It’s so stupid, letting yourself get so attached to the first guy to bat his eyelashes and read to you. It’s idiotic to want him to seep into your days and nights, to never leave like he had left you, after only knowing each other for a month.

It’s so foolish to open the door. But you do it anyways.

He swallows as he stands straight, and the widening of his eyes tells you that he wasn’t expecting you to give him a second chance.

“I, uh, here. Thought I’d finally return the favor.”” Bucky shoves forward a plate of cookies, misshapen and unevenly cooked. His eyes finally found yours. “My mom’s recipe.”

Family stuff, you remembered. The weight of the plate felt heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as his gaze on you as you lifted one of the lesser burnt cookies to your mouth and took a timid bite.

Bucky, you’ve come to learn, gives his love in silent acts of approval. He shines when you tell him his singing isn’t totally awful or that he makes a great sous chef, eyes crinkling when you approve of his music choice for the night or compliment the voices he picks when reading from his books. As he watched you, you felt that this cookie meant more to him then just flour and eggs.

He was reaching out, terrified of your rejection.

“You made these?”

“Alright, I’m not totally helpless.”

“They’re amazing, Bucky. Your mom should be proud.”

He returned your smile, knowing that she wouldn’t be. How could she, after all that his hands have done? Hands that should’ve been home, hoisting his sisters onto his shoulders. Hands that should have been helping set the table and at work so they had something to eat in the first place.

He looked so timid in your hallway, unsure of the next move. You rolled your eyes, moving to clear your doorway, despite his hesitation.

“Come on.” You spoke, like ushering in a stray cat with the promise of food and love.

He took the first step forward, shoulder to shoulder, head tilted down to catch your playful gaze with his serious one. Your mouth opened to make some sort of quip to ease the tension, but the words died in your throat as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a second.

His eyes closed as he drew in a single serene breath through his nose.

He was gone as quickly as he had come, moving further into your apartment and directly to your shelves of records, gloved fingers grazing over the sleeves in contemplation for his first choice of the night. As you finally collected yourself enough to close the door, you wondered how many people in the world had ever loved Bucky Barnes enough to give him a second chance.

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[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hi, I have this super specific idea so feel free to ignore this one lol. So basically, Annie and the reader have been dating for a while, like at least a year. And the reader is in the survey corps right, so during one of the missions she ends up getting injured in an explosion and she's like all burned up and covered in injury's that'll scar really bad. And so the reader gets taken to a hospital or med bay or whatever, and she's been out for days, and like Reiner, Eren, Mikasa, etc. are all there, ya know her little gaggle of friends. And like she's been unconscious for days but sometimes she'll wake up for a few minutes and pass out again. So when Annie gets the news and comes to see her she like starts to wake up, and when she's coherent Annie is holding her hand and says "I'm glad you're alive" or something, then the reader just kinda stares at her for a minute and says "are you one of my friends from the cadet corps" and everyone's shocked and Annie kinda runs off. And ass the reader gets better she's allowed to walk around town and shit as long as someone's with her because she he's trouble walking, and she like can't hold things in one of her hands without shaking like she's about to fall apart. She basically hos no memories of absolutely anything so if someone says that their friends she just believes them and wants to be with them, which is a contrast to how she was in the cadets because she was always super short tempered and would pick fights with everyone, but she always had a soft spot for Annie and would follow her around and shit while being an ass to everyone else. So now she has no memories, blind as shit, can barely walk, and is super kind and polite to just about everyone. And like she insists on Annie seeing her and wants to go with her wherever she goes and is all smiles and happiness while Annie is kinda having a crisis. Because they were both very closed off people and they opened up to each other and built unwavering trust and loyalty but now one of them doesn't remember, Annie wants to help her but at the same time she feels that it's for the best if they stay apart, uh spoiler they don't stay apart it's just gonna take time. I'm really sorry this was so long dude. Also please tell me this made sense I haven't stopped think about this for days

I- It’s a little confusing but I think I get it.

Let me know if I get anything wrong!

I also included a lot of platonic AruAni because it’s cute.

Unbearable

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Implied season 3 spoilers

Category: Both angst and fluff (somehow)

Summary: After getting seriously injured in a mission, Annie’s s/o doesn’t recognize anyone, and is left very weak. Still, Annie and her S/O stick together through the recovery.

Words: 5.5K

It’d gone wrong. It’d all gone horribly wrong.

A freak accident—only preventable by, perhaps, closer gear inspection, but it was far too late for that. The damage had been done.

The most recent Survey Corps mission was just concluding, and you managed to call yourself one of the lucky ones who survived this far. Erwin led the charge back to the walls at full speed, having completed the objective by the skin of his teeth, but an abnormal titan was tagging dangerously close behind.

The towering beast approached closer and closer, until it kicked the horse you were on, sending you and it abruptly flying through the air and away from the Scouts.

It took you a minute to regain your senses and realize the gravity of your situation. Your horse lay dying 40 feet away from you. Clearly, it would be of no help. The abnormal lurched towards you unnaturally, and your eyes widened in fear.

A quick movement of your upper body caused a jolt of pain to shoot up your chest, and you were positive you must’ve broke a few ribs when you collided with the dirt.

Still, you had limited time before the monster reached you, and you weren’t about to die that easily. You bore the pain in your chest as you stood up straight, beads of cold sweat rolling down your face as you surveyed your situation to find the easiest way out.

You were too far from your horse, and the rest of the Scout formation, and you were in no shape to run. Your head turned towards the walls, and an idea popped into your mind—you were going to scale the wall.

You broke into a quick sprint before you shot your ODM gear into the wall, flying towards it at lightning speed. Your back took the brunt of the impact, and you groaned in pain.

Still, it seems as if the abnormal wasn’t going to let you get a moment’s rest, as it caught up to you and tried to jump and grab you, but narrowly missed your boot. The rush of adrenaline kicked your body into gear as you shot the grapple of your ODM gear onto the ledge of the wall and hauled yourself up, a garrison soldier helping you before turning to man one of the cannons.

You stood up triumphantly on the wall, the titan below you still trying in vain to reach you. You could hear the distant shouting of a commander—and what you could out assume was the foreboding shout, “FIRE!!!”

And that’s where everything went wrong.

The cannon, no more than three feet to your right, exploded into a supernova of sparks and flames, and the last thing you saw was fire as blinding pain shot through your body.

And then it all went black.

---

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed to see her at the moment, you’re going to have to wait until she’s discharged.” The poor receptionist sighed, staring up at the distressed woman in front of her.

“I don’t care if ‘only family is allowed’! I’m her girlfriend, I should be allowed to see her!” Annie shouted, dressed in a simple white hoodie and grey pants. An outfit too casual for her to wear outside in most occasions, but when she heard the news of your admission to the hospital, she didn’t care to change.

“I’m sorry, there’s really nothing I can do-”

Annie leaned in closer, grabbing the receptionist by the collar of her shirt and pulling her in, a dangerous look gracing her face. Her voice came out in a threatening growl.

“Look, I’m a part of the military police, so if anyone asks, I’m just her older sister,” She glared daggers the woman, who shook like a leaf at the intimidation, “Got it?”

The woman nodded urgently, sweating bullets at this point, and Annie was thankful the intimidation had worked. “R-Room 302...”

She didn’t bother letting out a response as she ran to the wing of the hospital you were in. She didn’t know quite where the room was, but she would find out soon enough.

After a painful few minutes of searching, her eyes found the plate outside of a closed wooden door, the number reading “302″.

She walked up to it, and took a deep breath in before twisting the doorknob and pushing her way into the room, but her eyes widened in surprise and she gasped at the sight.

She knew it was bad—after all, nothing good ever came out of being so close to an explosion like that—but she couldn’t have been prepared for what she saw.

You were laid down on the bed, clearly unconscious, and sweltering burns covered at least 60% of your body, especially your right side. Many limbs were elevated and covered in taunting white casting, and you let out shallowed, labored breaths.

She mentally cursed the primitive healthcare the Eldians seemed to have, and the lack of a doctor in the room. She was no professional, but you definitely didn’t look to be in a state to be alone.

She though you were alone, that is, until her rationality returned to her and she noticed many figures in the room, though none bore the staff uniform.

They seemed to notice her before long, and a few stared at her quietly with pity in their eyes. She scanned the faces that surrounded her; Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, and Reiner were all present in the room.

“What in...” Her voice came out short in her throat; the words were just as powerless as she was, “What in God’s name happened to her...” It was hushed, almost husky, and it sounded like she was about to cry. Maybe she was, but she didn’t notice.

Mikasa seemed to be the first one to speak up through the heavy silence, stepping forward to grab Annie’s attention.

“It was on the recent scouting mission yesterday. She narrowly escape a titan by climbing over the wall, but one of the Garrison’s cannons blew up.” Mikasa looked to the side, clearly troubled by the situation as well. “Of the four people caught up in the explosion, she’s the only one still alive.”

Annie didn’t process quite what Mikasa had said at first, her mind was more focused on a pressing question that suddenly arose in her mind.

“The only one still alive?” She echoed. “Why did you phrase it like that?”

Mikasa sighed, covering her mouth with her scarf—something she often did when she was troubled. “Well, the doctor is doing all he can at the moment, but she’s been drifting in and out of consciousness nonstop for the past hour. Even when she is awake, we can’t seem to get a coherent response out of her.”

She froze.

Her eyes moved back to your battered form. She hadn’t taken in exactly how bad it was until now. Shattered bones, burnt skin, compromised organs—you were nearly unrecognizable. Not in the way that you were scarred beyond recognition, but in the way that she never imagined to see you in such a state. You looked like you had, quite literally, went through hell and back.

She let out a pained sigh, slinking down in a chair next to the bed and staring at the floor in defeat. She reached out and grabbed your limp hand at your side, running her thumb delicately over your burnt hand, as if the slightest mistouch would cause you to shatter like delicate porcelain.

“Please...” She knew you couldn’t hear her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to pretend, for a brief moment, that you could, and that you’d bounce right back up. But, you stayed limp on the bed, unmoving. “Please wake up...”

The others were able to read the room and came to a silent consensus, filing out of the room wordlessly.

She continued to hold your hand, sitting silently on your bedside for hours.

You never regained consciousness once.

---

Dreams flashed through her mind, the inner turmoil she faced was too fierce to not have such vibrant, nonsensical dreams. Dreams of you, spending late nights with her, or eating with her in silence. Dreams of your broken and bloodied body being sent flying from a hellish firework of flames. Dreams of visiting a newly dug grave. Dreams of—

A loud banging startled her out of her sleep, and she opened her eyes with a start, the dreams stopping abruptly as her brain pieced together the fragments of reality. Right, they were just dreams.

The banging—what was it? She looked around for a source. Nothing had fallen, nothing had moved, the room was still.

*BANG BANG BANG*

She jumped at the loud so, before facepalming internally. Of course someone was knocking on the door, what was she thinking?

A quick glance at the clock showed the time; 3AM. What is going on?

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she threw on some sweatpants, just presentable enough to answer the door.

She twisted the knob open and was greeted by...

“Armin?” She slurred, confusion and tiredness laced her voice.

“Annie...!” He had a strange look on his face, like he was in a hurry. Yet, it didn’t look like desperation, nor was it excitement. “Y/n woke up!”

---

She had never run faster. She didn’t care about leaving Armin in the dust at her front doorstep—hell, it didn’t even process until minutes later that she didn’t even close the front door. She just ran, ran, ran all the way to the hospital.

She made it to your room again, panting and desperate to see you again.

She went inside, and an immense wave of relief and joy washed over her face. It was true, you were conscious. Sitting up in the bed, talking to someone at your bedside, likely a nurse or a doctor.

Her loud footsteps and heavy breathing brought the attention of both you and the staff member to her, and you locked eyes with her.

She froze. There they were. The beautiful E/C eyes she had fallen in love with, and the same ones that filled her vision when she first awoke next to you in the morning. Except, something was off. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was disarray in your eyes. A storm.

She paid no mind to the rotten gut feeling, though, and rushed by your side to grip your hand tightly. A spark of sympathy arose in her chest when you whimpered in pain at the motion, but that was the last thing on her mind. Tears of happiness sparked in her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks.

She bowed her head—a sign of vulnerability that only you were ever able to see.

“Y/n, I...!” She choked out through the tears in her eyes, the back of her throat tightening with emotion, “I’m so glad you’re okay...”

You didn’t embrace her, you didn’t squeeze her hand back. No, you were still. Still as you were when your battered body was first admitted to the hospital. She looked up at you, and the same misguided look was in your eyes.

“Sorry... do I know you?”

---

She slammed the door behind her, locking it as she slid down the wall of her house, sobs wracking her body.

Her mind had neglected to process it until just now, but the truth was inescapable; you didn’t know who she was anymore. You didn’t know anyone or anything anymore.

Amnesia.

She couldn’t bear to see you like that. Seeing you so physically broken was bad enough, but seeing you confused and lost, years of memories and connections and friends just out the window? If there was a god, he sure as hell must’ve hated you.

She had no idea what to do. You weren’t going to just magically remember her. No, the Y/N she knew and loved all those years was gone. You were just a blank slate. She no longer meant anything to you, she was a stranger in your eyes.

She laid down to go to sleep, but she couldn’t even bring herself to close her eyes. She didn’t sleep that night.

---

She chose not to get up the next morning. She stayed in bed, staring at the empty space next to her where you usually slept. She wanted you to be right there next to her. God, she wanted you back.

She would’ve stayed in her depressed, hibernated state for hours, or even days, had someone not stopped by to check on her.

She figured it would be Armin. The sympathetic blonde man would always stop by to check on her. Not just now, but throughout their days as cadets. He was always the second person—after you, of course—to check up on her and ask how she was doing.

But when she opened the door and saw Mikasa, she was a little confused.

“Mikasa, what are y-”

“Y/n wants to speak with you.” She stated flatly, and Annie physically recoiled at the mention of your name.

“She... what?” Annie muttered, confusion enveloping her tone.

She understood the statement, on a surface level at least. But she didn’t understand why. Why did you want to talk to her? She meant nothing to you. What was there to talk about anymore? You probably didn’t even know her name.

She complied silently, though, and before long, she had trudged herself all the way to the hospital.

302. Such a depressing number to her now. But it was unavoidable. You were on the other side of the door, awaiting her for some odd reason.

She pushed the door open, and her eyes met yours silently. You were sitting up with your hands folded neatly in your lap. Your eyes followed Annie as she wordlessly shut the door and took a seat next at your bedside.

“Annie.” The blonde women flinched at the sound of her name, eyes staying fixated on anything but your face. “Annie.”

She finally shifted her head, meeting your gaze. There was a pitiful look tracing her features. It would look like indifference at first glance, but being so close to her allowed you to notice small features on her face, like her sunken in eyes, and her lips, tucked into a frown slightly tighter than normal.

She looked like she was about to cry.

You moved your arm slowly, wincing internally as your wounds burned and ached, and took her hand in your own, rubbing your thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing manner. Annie didn’t want to enjoy it—she knew this wasn’t the you she had fallen in love with—but she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the simpler times, where small affectionate gestures like this were normal to her.

“Mikasa told me just about everything I’ve forgotten.” You finally spoke up. “About the Scouts, about the accident, about us.” A painful silence filled the room for a moment following the word ‘us’. Surely, it meant more to her than it did to you.

“Annie.” You squeezed her hand despite the pain shooting up your arm, and your hand trembled involuntarily. “I know I don’t really know you,” You chuckled lightly, “or anyone for that matter, but I want to spend more time with you. We can just restart, fall in love all over a-”

“No!” She snapped, the sudden outburst causing you to jump. Her distressed eyes softened when she saw you, almost as if she thought you were made of glass, and that you would break at any moment. “No... please...”

She stood up abruptly, dropping your hand to lay dormant by the side of the hospital bed. “You don’t even know me! What’s the point?!”

Despite her angry appearance, her bottom lip trembled, and her voice shook as she spoke. Pricks of tears appeared at the corner of her eyes, but she wiped them away desperately.

“You forgot me, so I’ll forget you in return.” She turned towards the door, grabbing the knob firmly. Despite her desperate need to get out of the room, her hand trembled and shook, refusing to turn the knob.

“I’ll...” A small sob wracked her body. “Find someone else...”

---

Contrary to what her heart truly desired, she refused to see you. She forced herself to cut off all emotional ties to you—after all, you didn’t even know her. It was painful to even speak to you. Somehow, the loss had felt like you truly had died in the explosion. Sure, you were physically here, but all that was you was gone.

It was Armin who finally brought her out of her depressed slump. He saw the state of her after weeks of staying huddled up in her room. It was so unlike Annie. Her room was a mess, and so was she. Her hair was unkempt and unbrushed, and she hadn’t even showered at all. Clothes lay scattered across the room, and the trash can in the corner of the room had started overflowing.

It wasn’t a pleasing sight, but he couldn’t blame her.

He had offered to meet him at a local café to talk—albeit, after she showered. She hesitantly agreed, and went into the bathroom to get ready. While she showered, Armin absentmindedly picked up some of the scattered clothing, putting it in it’s proper place, and even emptied the trash can for her.

He saw the slight shock in her eyes when she came out, surprised, but internally grateful for his help. She didn’t show it verbally, but she gave a thankful nod, and he understood.

---

Armin brought the cup to his lips, the steam flowing from the cup blocking his face as he sipped his tea silently, and Annie took another bite of her glazed donut.

“So, Annie.” He turned to face her, setting his cup down. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She sighed internally. Nothing yet had been spoken, but she knew it was about you. Her silence beckoned him to continue.

“I... No, we all noticed how you’ve been recently, and we understand it. Who knows what you’re feeling right now...” His sympathy went mostly unappreciated. She really didn’t want to be reminded of the depressive state she had fallen into.

“It’s completely up to you, but... we think it would be better for you if you decided to talk to her again.” Armin didn’t need to say who this ‘her’ was. Annie already knew.

She raised an eyebrow and considered his statement for a fleeting moment, but regained her stance. She wasn’t going to talk to you. No convincing from her friends would change that.

“See, the thing is, Y/N has been discharged.” He spoke, bringing the cup back to his face to preemptively fill the silence he anticipated.

No amount of emotional cover-up could hide the shocked look on her face. Part of her was ecstatic, deep down. She was glad you were well enough to leave. But, the other part reminded her that associating with you would only bring her more hurt.

“But, there isn’t really going to be any recovering from what she experienced, unfortunately.” He brought the cup back down onto the table, now empty of all it’s liquid. “So, the doctor advised that she be under careful supervision from someone at all times.”

Annie wasn’t stupid. She knew where this was going.

“So,” he huffed a breath of heavy air, “We decided that if anyone was going to take her in, it should be you, Annie. We want to take her back to live with you.” She could feel her jaw slack at the proposal, and a full-fledged war had just started in her mind. She registered he was still speaking, but was too conflicted to listen.

Once again, part of her mind was desperately trying to reach you. To take you in and care for you, and to ensure you have a safe and comfortable recovery with her. She could restart with you, and make new memories with you, and everyone else.

But she understand it would be painful. Unbearable, even. She might as well be taking care of a stranger. You didn’t act like Y/n, you didn’t look like Y/n, hell, you hardly even knew who Y/n was at this point. It would just hurt her even more, all she needed to do was get away from you—!

“Annie...!” Armin spoke firmly, slightly leaned over the table as if he had been prying for her attention for a while now. He reached across the table to grab her hand, causing her to gasp. His hand was warm. It reminded her of you.

“I know what you’re thinking.” His voice was soothing and inviting, and she was reminded once again of what great friends she had made in the 104th.

“You think it’s gonna hurt, and it will, I’m sure. I understand too. She doesn’t quite act like she did before, we all noticed. It’s...” He paused, leaning back in his chair and looking to the side. It had hurt him, too. “Strange. To see a friend like this.”

He leaned forward, pulling his hand away to place it back on the table. “But you have to do something! Separating yourself from someone you care about so deeply isn’t good for you.” He brought his head up slightly, staring daggers into her eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I know you still care about her. You wouldn’t be so conflicted if you didn’t.”

Tears pricked at her eyes once again. She didn’t want to get emotional, and certainly not here of all places. But she knew he was telling the truth. She still cared, and it wasn’t good for her to ignore you.

“Besides,” He stood up, turning to leave. “She misses you too, Annie.”

---

She made up her mind that day. She was gonna bring you back home.

It wasn’t easy. Both the emotional aspect, but also cleaning up her filthy room in such a short span of time. Still, she prepped it perfectly for your arrival. She cleaned up the room, organized her things, made the bed, and even bought a second pillow—surely, you two couldn’t share just the one.

Picking you up from the hospital was bittersweet. You managed to stay standing, although only with the help of a wooden cane. Your hand gripped the handle tightly, and you leaned a large portion of your body weight on it, just to not fall over.

You had changed out of the raggedy hospital clothes, finally getting to wear something comfortable after so long, but even with the cloth, the purplish-redish burn scars coated much of your body. It reached from the very fingertips of your right hand, all the way up your neck and part of your face.

Still, you smiled weakly and brought your hand up to wave at her.

She approached you hesitantly, but as soon as you tried to stumble over to her, she rushed up to support you with an arm around your shoulder.

“Easy, now.” She muttered. “You should be careful.”

“Right,” You chuckled nervously. “Sorry.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, having seen the outside for the first time in weeks. It didn’t stop the stone walls from towering forebodingly over you, though, but you felt at least some freedom.

“Where are we headed?” You sighed, and started walking. Annie guided you for the most part, but you managed to get your injured legs to cooperate, somewhat. You hand trembled as it gripped the cane, and even step on uneven ground caused you to stumble, but Annie’s grip kept you upright.

“We’re going...” She hesitated. “Home.”

---

Early morning birds chirped their greetings through the open windows, and the sun shone rays of dawn down from the sky. A typical wake-up call to her.

That, and your snoring.

She opened her eyes and stretched, easing up the tension in her muscles, which had laid painfully dormant for the past eight hours. Yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her attention shifted to the mass attached to her side.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around her torso, and your head was buried in her chest. Despite having lived with you for a few weeks now, she hadn’t gotten used to the change. In the past, neither of you really cuddled in your sleep. You gave sweet goodnights and passed out on opposite sides of the bed just like that.

It was a welcome change, though, and seeing you tucked so comfortably into her side brought a smile and blush to her face. She ran a hand through your messy h/c hair, smiling softly as you stirred in response to the affection.

“...Mm?” You let out a groggy noise, having been woken up a little earlier than you were used to. Annie was always the morning person in the relationship.

“Good morning.” She cooed, removing her hand to sit up and get out of bed. Once she tried to stand, though, she felt a frail hand tug at her wrist. You grip was weak as a result of your injuries, and she could very easily wiggle out if she wanted to, but she faltered.

“C’mon...” You muttered, face down in the blankets, still halfway asleep. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Annie huffed in defeat, climbing back into the bed and shuffling back under the cotton sheets. You were back at her side in an instant, and she smiled once again. Even after everything, you were still just as cute as always when you were sleepy.

“We can’t stay like this for very long, you know.” She sighed, placing a warm, calloused hand on your back.

You groaned in annoyance at that. “Why’s that?”

“Armin and the others invited us out to get lunch. It’s been a while since the Survey Corps has had a day off.” She looked to the side before muttering quietly. “I also have to go to work with the military police... I’ve used up all my paid leave.”

“Oh... yeah, we should probably get ready.” Contrary to your tone, you were actually quite happy. Annie had been quite a bit overprotective of you since your injury, so you hadn’t gotten the chance to get out much. You couldn’t blame her much, though. You could hardly walk, eat, or do just about anything without assistance. You were glad she took good care of you, but it got a little overbearing sometimes.

“Let’s get up, then.” She said, slinking out of bed. You watched wordlessly as she slipped out of her night clothes into something more presentable, sliding her shirt over her head effortlessly. You couldn’t help but blush as your eyes trailed down her toned stomach.

She looked back at you with an unamused expression as she slid on a plain white shirt. “You shouldn’t stare, Y/n.”

“R-Right.” You looked away flustered. You had only technically known her a few weeks now, but man were you lucky.

Annie’s warm hand enveloping your own brought you back into reality, and you accepted her help wordlessly as you got out of bed.

She helped you out of your clothes and handed you something nice to put on for the day. It was a comfortable ritual the two of you got into, helping you get dressed in the morning.

She sat you down in one of the chair’s in her room, ordering you to stay put while she went to the military police mess hall to pick up breakfast for the two of you.

She came back into the room only a few minutes later, carrying two trays of food, and sat them down in front of both of you. It was a boring meal, typical of any military ration, but you didn’t complain.

“So, Annie,” She looked up from her food, still digging her fork into the baked potato on her plate. “Tell me a story.”

She smiled longingly, staying silent for a moment as she recollected her memories for a good story to tell. Ever since you lost your memory and started staying with Annie, you often spent mealtimes getting her to tell stories about you, her, and your other friends. About what happened in the 104th, and the Survey Corps, and sometimes, you’d ask Annie about her childhood and time before the military. She seemed very hesitant about the last one, but she still told you bits and pieces. You could easily infer that she didn’t have a very pleasant childhood, so you didn’t push the subject.

“Well,” Annie finally spoke, swallowing a gulp of water from her glass, having seemingly found a story she felt like telling. “One time, in the 104th, Sasha had managed to convince you to steal food from the pantry with her.”

You listened intently as she continued recounting the events, a sad smile on her face. “So you and her snuck in late at night, but Shadis heard both of you because of how loud Sasha was. So then, you two had no where to go but a tiny cramped pantry in the kitchen, and then—”

*CRASH*

You sat there like a deer in headlights as the glass shattered into hundreds of transparent shards on the floor, startling Annie out of her nostalgic trance.

“Y/n!” She exclaimed, standing up from her seat swiftly. She spotted the broken glass, mixed with the water it had held, and looked back at you. Once she pieced it together, she facepalmed.

“Y/n...” She sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you to not to try and pick up things right now...”

“Sorry,” You muttered. “I just wanted to see...”

Despite the severity of your injuries, you were quite stubborn. No matter how much Annie insisted that you not hold things in your state, you did so anyway. It seldom worked, since, like now, you always dropped it within seconds.

“It’s... It’s fine,” She sighed, leaning down to carefully pick up the larger fragments of glass. Once she got the larger pieces, she dumped them in the trash and knelt down in front of your chair on one knee, grabbing your hand in her own. “But you need to remember, your injuries haven’t healed yet. Nowhere close. I know you hate it, but you need to let your body rest.”

You nodded sorrowfully. Yet, despite how much you promised, you knew you’d never really stop trying to push your body. Even if your skin was scarred, and hands were shaky, and the muscles of your legs atrophied and partially-paralyzed, you would never stop trying to live a normal life.

Annie had finished sweeping up the smaller shards of glass in the dustpan, and dumped it into the trash can, before returning to the table.

Silently, she grabbed her glass, still half filled with water, and brought it up to your lips. When you had first started living with Annie, you were a little embarrassed about having to be fed like this, but you had long since gotten used to it.

Once the glass was empty, she sat it down on the tabletop once again, and checked the time.

“Shit, we should get going, it’s nearly time.” She sighs, grabbing your cane from it’s spot leaning against the wall and handing it to you. You thank her and, with her help, stand up from your spot. Her arm slinks around your waist, allowing you to lean half of your body weight on the cane and the other half on Annie.

As you made your way out of the building and down the street towards the restaurant, you finally broke the silence.

“Annie?” You asked, quietly. There was an uncharacteristic sadness to your voice.

“Yes, darling?” She inquired, keeping her eyes glued on the trail in front of you.

“How come you still take care of me? Even after the accident, you still stick with me. Why is that?”

Annie chuckles dryly. She doesn’t want to tell you that it’s still a sore subject for her, so she answers honestly.

“It wasn’t so black and white, really. It was pretty upsetting to see someone I loved so much not even recognize me at all.” Her eyes bore into the pavement below her feet. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken.”

“But a friend of mine talked to me about it. And I realized there would be no point in running from it. I decided that if you didn’t know me, I would make you fall in love with me all over again. Plus,” She looked to the side, a faint red blush on her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to feel lonely...”

You giggled at her embarrassment, opening your mouth to say something, but she cut you off quickly.

“We’re here.” She stopped in front of the doors, and you easily spotted Mikasa, Armin, and Jean already sitting inside at one of the tables, exchanging lighthearted banter.

“Hey Annie.”

“Hm?” She turned the knob of the door, stepping foot into the bustling room.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” You sighed, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Of course.” She smiled in return. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“Oi!” Jean shouted from across the room, and Armin immediately tried to shush his yelling, but he wasn’t phased. “Annie, Y/n, hurry up!”

You and Annie giggle at his boisterous attitude, walking over to find your seats.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you, Y/N.” Mikasa smiled warmly, tucking her scarf around her neck.

You smile at the three of them, looking so happy and peaceful. You’ve missed it.

“Yeah,” You laugh. “So, what did I miss?”

This feels badly written but I can’t place it, I dunno.

Probably ‘cause I wrote the first half like a month ago and only finished it today lol.

And no I totally didn’t reference someone else’s fic in this haha nope

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter One

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2101

Chapter Warning: Bad Language Words, tiny bit of angst

A/N: I started this on AO3 awhile ago. Now that I have a blog dedicated primarily to just Marvel/Bucky, I thought I’d add it here, too. Enjoy!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.  

Bucky heard his phone buzz as he was tugging a butter-soft tee over his head. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed as he worked his arms into their respective holes.

9:36

Steve was long in bed already, so the text most likely wasn’t from him. Sam was on a me me kick-- No, what did he call them? Memes!-- of a disgruntled cat which he swore reminded him of the super soldier. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were him. Or possibly Nat. She picked up the new issue of Guns & Ammo the other day and was sending him pictures of a Mossberg MC1sc 9mm she was drooling over.

Smoothing the body of the shirt over his torso, Bucky ambled over to his bed. He snatched up the phone from the navy blue comforter and flipped it over. To his amazement, the text wasn’t from Sam or Nat. Or even Steve.

(917) 460-5480 work thing boring af. kinda tied one on. might be late meeting you tomorrow

He blinked several times at the message, uncertain how to respond. It was a wrong number, right? Bucky hadn’t made plans with anyone for tomorrow that he could remember. Plus, everyone he knew had the same work thing. And it was rarely boring.

Definitely a wrong number.

He set the phone down near the clock, choosing to ignore the text. Hopefully, whoever this person was, figured out quickly they were texting the wrong number and moved on.

Bucky pulled back the covers before climbing into bed. His body melted into the mattress, muscles relaxing for the first time since breakfast. Training had been non-stop all day today. It felt good to just be, for once.

He grabbed the book he was reading off the nightstand and opened it to the spot he left off. He cleared his mind, as best he could, and concentrated on the words on the page.

A few pages in, his phone vibrated alive again. Another text message.

(917) 460-5480 sis dont be mad youd be drinking too if you had to sit thru one of these business dinners

Bucky sighed. He had hoped his radio silence would have clued this person into their mistake. Wishful thinking. Before he could punch out a reply, another text came through.

(917) 460-5480 timmons is droning on about this new client. kill me now

He quickly typed out a reply:

(917) 308-3117 I think you sent this to me by mistake.

Bucky watched the text indicator pulse as this unknown person worked out their response.

(917) 460-5480 haha very funny sis

Bucky huffed at this person’s disbelief, thumbs working on typing out his next message.

(917) 308-3117 I’m not trying to be funny. I can’t be someone’s sister when I’m a man.

He set the phone down on the nightstand again, hoping this person finally took a hint. He opened his book back up to the current page, taking a deep breath.

The room’s silence was broken again by the loud thrumming of his phone skittering across the surface of the black wood veneer.

(917) 460-5480 how does kevin feel about this so close to the wedding???

(917)460-5480 will you still need a wedding dress or will you just get a tux???

(917) 460-5480 am i still your maid of honor???

Bucky chuckled at this girl (no, young woman) asking the essential questions.

(917) 308-3117 Your sister did not get a sex change. Yes, she will still need a wedding dress. Yes, you are still her maid of honor. Like I said before, wrong number.

An almost immediate reply came through.

(917) 460-5480 prove it

Bucky grew slightly irritated at the insinuation. Why couldn’t she take his word for it? He exhaled loudly through his nose.

(917) 308-3117 How?

A few moments passed before the device juddered in the palm of his large hand.

(917) 460-5480 selfie

Bucky blanched at the request. He could feel the color drain from his face, only to immediately heat with a blush. A selfie? That is the last thing he wanted to do.

Although he’d been exonerated for his crimes as The Winter Soldier, he still knew about the dislike people felt about him as a person, in general. They couldn’t get past the brainwashing or other persona. God knows he still struggled with it.

He couldn’t go broadcasting his face through texts to a stranger. What if she was one of those who didn’t understand he had no say in what he did or what happened to him under Hydra’s control?

What if he ignored the solicitation? He could do that. Maybe even turn off his phone.

She did seem the type to be very persistent until she got what she wanted.

True to form, another text rang through.

(917) 460-5480 i will keep texting until i see your manly face

One corner of his lips quirked higher. Yup, persistent.

He navigated to the camera app on his phone and switched it to selfie mode. He stared at the damp locks falling to his shoulders. His beard would require a trim soon, but it wasn’t scraggly. Luckily, he’d had the hindsight to shave his neckbeard in the shower earlier.

Was he considering this? Some girl says jump, and he asks how high?

He combed metal fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath.

(917) 460-5480 im waiting

Bucky growled at the text, running a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. Give me a second,” he said to his phone. He held it up to head height, half an arm’s length away.

Click!

He previewed the picture, assuring himself it didn’t reveal too much. It was, somehow, off-center, containing a bearded chin and half a smirked mouth, one nostril, and a half-lidded eye.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bucky pulled the messaging app back up and then sent off the picture. He tossed the phone aside, not wanting to watch the taunting blinking dots as he waited for a reply.

The picture was barely recognizable, but someone like Steve or Nat could tell it was him. It would be okay. No one would know.

His phone vibrated violently near him on the bed. Bucky cautiously plucked the device up, debating whether he wanted to read her reply. What if it said, “Holy shit! You’re The Winter Soldier!”? The hope of this woman thinking he was just some regular guy knotted up his stomach. He didn’t know why he cared so much about whether this stranger thought he was The Soldier or not. He had no control over who believed the lies perpetrated as truth through the media. He could only wish for the best.

He blew out the breath he was holding in and eyed the phone’s screen.

(917) 460-5480 is it fair to say men shouldnt be allowed to have long eyelashes??

Bucky laughed and immediately thought of poor Steve.

(917) 308-3117 You should see my buddy’s. The girls swoon and complain at the same time.

He quickly added to the message thread:

(917) 308-3117 Am I correct to assume you believe I’m a man and not your sister?

The response was swift.

(917) 460-5480 oh shit ur not my sister

(917) 460-5480 this isnt 9173083447?

Bucky laughed again, the tension in his chest slowly unfurling.

(917) 308-3117 Unfortunately for you-- no.

(917) 460-5480 ugh im such an idiot sorry for the shit i said

(917) 308-3117 Don’t worry about it. I had a good laugh at your expense.

(917) 460-5480 oh god now i feel like a bigger ass

Bucky suddenly felt like backpedaling. He hadn’t meant for her to feel bad about her mistake. It was cute in a roundabout way.

(917) 308-3117 Please don’t be embarrassed. It was the highlight of my night.

(917) 460-5480 me forcing u to prove ur a man was the best part of ur night??

Bucky thought for a moment. Was it the best part? The training sessions had become monotonous lately, even with the new agents. The team hadn’t been on any missions in a few weeks, so it was pretty accurate to say he was bored around the compound.

(917) 308-3117 I suppose it was. Work’s been a little slow, and there’s only so much training you can do before it becomes tedious.

(917) 460-5480 training? r u in the military? ooh, r u an athlete??

A laugh bubbled up from his chest. It was comical to see her try to guess his profession. His selfie hadn’t announced who he was to her after all.

(917) 308-3117 Something like that.

(917) 460-5480 so mysterious! r u some assassin who needs to keep his identity secret? is that y ur selfie only showed a quarter of ur face??

He paled at the implication. Maybe she did know and was yanking his chain. How did he block numbers again?

Another text came through from the mystery woman:

(917) 460-5480 not that i mind u have a luscious mouth

Bucky guffawed at the comment as flames rose beneath the skin of his cheeks. He hadn’t remembered blushing this much in such a short amount of time in decades.

(917) 308-3117 How much have you had to drink tonight, doll?

(917) 460-5480 doll?? what r u my grandpa??

He chuckled again. God, he was old enough and then some.

(917) 460-5480 enough to not want to shoot my brains out but not enough to know this dinner isnt a party

(917) 308-3117 Maybe you should get back to your dinner? I don’t want to get you into trouble.

He regretted the text the second he pressed send. Was he trying to get rid of her? No. Or was he looking out for her? This person he knew nothing about. She was more entertaining than the recurring nightmare he’d been having for the last week, that's for sure. He'd cling to this unknown to avoid slipping into that black abyss.

(917) 460-5480 aww does the military-trained assassin athlete mchottie not want to talk with me anymore?? 🙁

(917) 308-3117 No!! I’m honestly concerned you’ll be reprimanded if you pay more attention to your phone than Timmons.

The last thing Bucky needed was to feel more guilt, especially if it was at the expense of someone’s livelihood. His shoulders were already heavy enough.

(917) 460-5480 thats sweet but dont worry ur pretty little head over me timmons wouldnt last a day w/o me

(917) 460-5480 timmons may be the boss but i run that office

He simpered at her swagger. He could only imagine what kind of office she worked in because, again, a total stranger. Did he want to get to know her more, or was this a one and done thing? Would she wake up tomorrow and want to continue the conversation or blow him off for the drunken mistake her first text had been?

Bucky stared at his phone for several more minutes, pondering precisely what he was doing and what his expectations of the night were. It’s not like he was going to meet her in person, right? Was he that delusional? He was an Avenger now. He didn’t get a social life. Not that he had one before but still.

He was startled from his reverie as the phone shook in his hand.

(917) 460-5480 did i scare you away??

(917) 308-3117 No. Just thinking about tomorrow.

(917) 460-5480 shit a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie must have a lot to prepare for mentally ill let u get ur rest

He smiled at the gesture. If only she knew.

(917) 308-3117 Send me a text when you get home. I want to make sure you arrived okay.

(917) 460-5480 such a gentleman! i don’t want to wake u if ur asleep tho

(917) 308-3117 I doubt I’ll be sleeping, but it’ll help ease my mind.

(917) 460-5480 alright ill shoot a text ttfn

(917) 308-3117 ttfn?

(917) 460-5480 ta ta for now god u r a grandpa

(917) 308-3117 Yeah, yeah

Bucky’s mouth split into yet, another grin as he set his phone down once again on the nightstand. He picked up his discarded book and found his place on the page. After a few minutes of re-reading the same paragraph over and over, he slipped the bookmark into the gutter of the book. His mind was too preoccupied with the thought of some random girl in the city at a boring work dinner. He realized he hadn’t stopped smiling since they temporarily said goodbye.

Maybe there was a good chance this conversation would carry into tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWO

[oneisallallisone]

All I Know, All I Know Greedling x Reader fic Chapter 5

In a land ruled by alchemy, there are some who would call you a sorcerer. You intend to understand what this means. Along your journey you end up getting mixed up with two strange brothers, a military conspiracy, a potentially world-ending event, and the avarice of something more than human.

Previous

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

_______________________________________________________________________

All I Know, All I Know

Chapter 5: Each of Us is Hiding Something

A light. A bright light, a violet light. It was the only thing you could see, save for the expanse of stars all around you… 

Your waking was not sudden. It never was when you dreamt like this. The shining rays of purple and the sea of stars were ones that you dreamt of often, and ones that always allowed you time to come back from. No, your waking was not sudden. It was gentle as a whisper— go now, you can come back later. 

As you blinked your eyes open, you saw the tilted image of a hospital room. The walls were starkly bare and pale beige in color, and the sheets pulled up to your chin were pristine white. There was another cot in the room with you. A familiar shade of blonde hair spilled over its pillow. 

“Ed,” you croaked. Your throat was dry. Luckily there was a cup of water on the bed-side table. 

The alchemist rolled over, and his eyes widened when he met your gaze. “(y/n)! You’re awake!” 

“Are you…alright?” You could see that there was a bandage around his head and another one wrapped around his left forearm. But there was color in his cheeks again. You took this as a good sign. 

“Better off than you, by the looks of it,” Ed replied. “Although I am a little jealous that you were able to get out of the building before it collapsed entirely.” 

Heat flooded your face and you cast your gaze to the floor. “Yeah. Sorry about that.” 

“Eh, it’s no big deal. You’re alive because you left when you did. I’m glad about that.” 

“I could have killed you, though.” 

“What?” 

Ed’s question hung in the air for a few seconds. The shame had still not left your cheeks when you dared to look up at him again. 

“The building collapsed. It could have killed you, it was my fault. I was trying to protect you, I swear, by taking out a piece of the ceiling I thought I could make a barrier between you and those—” 

“(y/n), slow down,” Ed said calmly. “You didn’t cause the entire building to collapse. Those guys with the ouroboros tattoos—Envy and Lust—they were the ones who did that. I heard Lust instruct Envy to blow it up before I blacked out.”

You were silent for a few moments. In one heartbeat you felt relieved, but it was only  replaced by more unease in the next. “And then Envy carried you out.” 

“And then Envy carried me out.” 

“I wonder why they did that.” 

“Beats me,” Ed said. “The woman, Lust, she told me to remember that they allowed me to live. That I was one of their ‘sacrifices,’ whatever that means.” 

You remembered Envy’s rage at Number 48’s brother. How Lust had stopped Number 48 from talking, and then how Envy picked up the guard’s sword and stabbed his brother over and over again. What was it Envy had said? 

You were trying to kill one of our most important sacrifices! You could have messed up the entire plan! 

It was all too much to think about. You closed your eyes, feeling a headache beginning to blossom. 

But the silence didn’t last forever. The door flung open, and four people rushed in. Two of them were officers you recognized from the Fifth Laboratory, Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh. One of them was Major Alex Louis Armstrong, a towering man who you had often seen hovering around the Elric brothers. The fourth person was someone you didn’t know. This girl, with long blonde hair and shining blue eyes, was carrying a toolbox. She dropped it to the ground the moment she laid her eyes on Ed. 

“What happened?” She said it somewhere between a cry and a demand. 

“Well that didn’t take long,” Ed mumbled. It was the first time you had heard something similar to meekness in his voice. “You’re gonna charge me an express service fee now huh?” 

The blonde girl lowered her eyes. “No. No, I didn’t do a good enough job repairing your automail last time. And now you’re badly injured. I won’t charge you for this.” 

“Wait!” Ed sat up in a hurry. “It’s not your fault! You can’t blame yourself for this! I was being reckless, your repairs were as flawless as ever, Winry. Besides, if my arm didn’t break when it did, I would have kept fighting and gotten even more hurt…” 

He was rambling. The fullmetal alchemist, state-certified human weapon and snarky little asshole, was rambling. You couldn’t help the small smile that quirked on the corner of your lips. Ed and this girl—his apparent mechanic—were kind of adorable. 

“It seems that your injuries are also quite extensive, young sorcerer,” Major Alex Louis Armstrong rumbled as he approached your bedside. 

It felt like a shockwave, hearing him say it so matter-of-factly like that. Young sorcerer. You turned your gaze to Ed so sharply that he didn’t even need to look away from the mechanic to know you were staring daggers. 

“Ed,” you snapped. Never before had a single syllable from your lips also been such an accusation. 

Ed turned towards you, shaking his head.“Wait, (y/n), it’s okay. You can relax, he’s—” 

“Relax?” You felt your face heating up. “You tell someone, a government officer mind you, my biggest secret and you want me to relax?” 

“Wait, a sorcerer?!” Sergeant Brosh gasped. He and Lieutenant Ross shared a wide-eyed stare. 

The mechanic squealed and practically jumped up and down, turning her full attention to you. “So you can do magic? Like, real, actual magic? Tell me everything! What does it look like? What does it feel like? How do you—” 

“Oh, great! And now everyone knows!” Your voice was reaching near yelling levels now. “Ed, once I get my strength back you’re gonna wish those ouroboros guys had killed you—” 

“(y/n) will you shut up for two seconds and listen to me!” Ed shouted. “These people are okay! You can trust them!” 

Major Armstrong folded his hands. “I meant no offense, young one. I was merely intending to check on how you were doing.” 

“(y/n),” Ed said, commanding your attention, but also speaking much calmer than he had been before. “You can trust everyone in this room. I promise you. Armstrong, Ross, Brosh, and Winry are a few of the people I trust most in Amestris. In the whole world, even. They have my back, and because of that, they’ll have yours.” 

“Aren’t sorcerers not supposed to exist, though?” Ross spoke up. 

You hugged your knees to your chest. The throbbing in your head combined with the dull ache in your side from your wound were becoming almost too much to bear while conscious. “Please just…don’t tell anyone else.” You hated how small your voice sounded when you said it. But you didn’t know what Amestris would do to you if what walked among them became widespread knowledge. You didn’t know what anywhere would do to you. 

It had been a massive risk just telling the Elric brothers. And the last thing you needed was the wrong person in the chain of command to know your power. 

“My existence spits in the face of your beloved alchemy,” you continued, “And there is much about it that I don’t understand. So please, the less people know of me, the better.” 

“Edward told us your story while you had yet to wake,” Armstrong said in a voice much softer than you thought a man of his stature would be capable of. “We had no idea when you would open your eyes again, and we needed to know what happened in the Fifth Laboratory. But I can personally assure you, young one, that word of your abilities will not leave our lips.” Armstrong's gaze snapped to the younger officers, and when he spoke again his voice boomed. “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh?” 

The two officers frantically saluted and responded in unison. “Yes sir!” 

The Major turned back to you. “Thank you for defending Edward, (y/n).” 

You managed a weak smile. “It was nothing.” 

“Oh, please,” Ed deadpanned. “I probably would have been a lot worse off if I didn’t have you with me. And once we figure out how to keep your power from getting drained so quickly, you’re going to be a serious force to be reckoned with. I’m sure of it!” 

“Thanks?” 

Winry sighed. “Well I’m just glad somebody had your back, Ed. You seriously need to stop being so reckless all the time. (y/n), you have my thanks too. Now let’s start on those repairs, Ed!” 

“Hey, wait. Where’s Al?” you asked. “He practically pulled me from the Laboratory when I couldn’t stand anymore. I want to thank him.” 

Ed frowned. “I’m…not sure where he is. I haven’t seen him yet.” 

This struck you as odd, considering how inseparable the brothers seemed to be. “Oh. Well…I’m sure he’ll be around soon.” 

“Yeah,” Ed said flatly. “I hope you’re right.” 

Al did show up, eventually. But the reunion of the brothers didn’t go as you had expected it to. 

It was obvious that something had been bothering Al for the past couple hours. And after Al insinuated that his existence could be entirely artificial, that maybe Ed had fabricated the memories of his old life, the fullmetal alchemist got up from his cot and walked out of the room. 

“You moron!” Winry’s cry shook the entire room. She threw a wrench and it hit Al square in the head. “Why would you say that? You idiot, do you even know what—”

All you could do was sit there in shock while Winry’s sharp words tore into Al. How much of a dumbass he was to accuse Ed of such a thing, how this entire time Ed had been so fearful that Al secretly blamed him for the way his body is now. It didn’t answer all your questions about the brothers, but it did give a little more insight into the alchemical accident that shattered their bodies. You were beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t entirely an accident, that there had been some intention behind the brothers’ actions…

“Now,” Winry said at the end of her enraged speech, “Go get your brother. Start running!” 

“Right!” Al leapt to his feet and hurried out of the room. 

Winry let out a long exhale and slumped against the wall.  

“Well that was…intense,” you managed, awkwardly. 

“Yeah, well. Somebody needs to keep those boys in line,” Winry huffed. 

“Does it have to be you?” 

The mechanic turned her gaze on you sharply. “What?” 

You felt your face heat up as it often did when you realized you made a mistake. “Wait, I don’t mean any offense, I promise. I guess I’m just…curious about why you seem to be the one who cleans up their messes? Not to make such a huge judgement about you right away, I know I pretty much just met you.” At that point you were beginning to ramble and figured it was best to just cut yourself off. 

Winry’s pointed gaze softened for just a moment. “How much do you know about the boys?” 

“Not much,” you admitted. “I know they’re looking for a way to return to their original bodies, but whenever I ask them about more details they avoid the question.” 

“That sounds like them,” Winry said, “Never wanting to accept help from anybody unless as a last possible resort. I grew up with them. We’ve known each other since we were…gosh, I think I’ve known them my whole life.”  

You nodded. Not really sure how to respond, but wanting to let Winry know she could keep talking. 

“I guess they just don’t have anybody else, now,” Winry explained. “That’s why I feel so responsible for them.” 

“That sounds like a large burden to put on yourself,” you stated. “Why is it they don’t have anybody else?” 

“I don’t really think it’s my place to tell.” 

It wasn’t Ed’s place to tell everyone about me being a sorcerer, yet it seems like he didn’t hesitate.

“Well, I’m not sure if they deserve you Winry,” you said. “But I know they must be incredibly grateful to have you. Anyone worthwhile would be.”  

Winry allowed herself a small smile.

[helenazbmrskai]

title ‹ Christmas bribery ›

pairing ‹ soldier!seokjin x oc ›

genre ‹ Christmas/holiday au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst but barely there ›

summary ‹ This is the first time you can’t go home and celebrate Christmas with your family so your mom makes sure you don’t spend the holidays alone happy to learn that Seokjin, your mother’s best friend’s son is taking his annual leave near the 22nd of December from Military services. This story is about the biggest Christmas bribery of the century. ›

warnings ‹ swear words here and there, bad puns? ›

word count ‹ 6.2k ›

notes. I’m here to deliver a light read to set the mood for the holidays and I hope all of you will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the process of writing it. In this Christmas collab, I had the chance to meet with these amazing people so I’m sharing this story as a gift and as a thank you!

this is part of the Christmas fic collab that was suggested by @kooala​ please check out the masterpost and enjoy every story we share! 

”You did what?!” I feel dizzy due to the sudden movement of my body jerking up in a sitting position, crisscrossing my legs under me as my hand holds up the phone to my right ear a little bit more pressingly after hearing the breaking news. That she tells me with a singing tone sounding so excited but I can’t seem to share her sentiments as the bewilderment decorating my voice is in sharp contrast with the silence that settled on the cosy apartment like a thick feather-filled duvet. Nibbling on my thin lips I locate the single gingerbread scented candle on my desk still illuminating the interior of my messy bedroom the flames licking up the walls and disappearing near the ceiling, creating pretty shapes and lights over the dull paint, it helps me regain my composure before I realise that mom is not yet finished talking.

”Well he needed a place to stay and busses won’t go out because of the upcoming storm his apartment is in Daegu and I’m sure he’ll be tired from the flight.” Flicking on the lights I take in the sight, clothes piled up on the chair’s armrest whilst dirty plates littering every usable surface, fuck, if my room looks like a pigsty I don’t want to imagine how the other rooms are looking right now.

I was so immersed in doing great on my finals that I don’t think I cleaned the space up for a while.

I should start doing my laundry so I have something to wear as I already look to be out of clean t-shirts inspecting the pile of unwashed jeans and other garments, momentarily embarrassed to see I’m also out of room to place new dirty clothes on top of all these.

”What are you implying mother?” Pursing my lips, I honestly start to lose her train of thoughts as her rant goes on and my eyes wander over the state my apartment is in after stressful weeks but knowing her ways she’ll start with building on my conscience until she realises that I’m no longer an unsuspecting five-year-old girl and she’ll pull out the big guns and dust off her bribing skills.

Whatever her plan is, she always makes me go accordingly no matter how much I try to resist or protest and I feel a knot form in my throat at that. If this is about my non-existent dating life again that she called me to discuss in the dread of the night, I swear I’m gonna flip a table or something.

”You remember Sunha’s eldest son?” Answering back with a question as she often likes to do, doesn’t throw me off balance as it used to.

I’m long ago accustomed to getting her ways to twist the conversation to her favour so I’m ready to fire back my reply in the same form matching her up. ”How is your best friend’s son has to do with any of this?” Utterly confused by the mention, that must lace my tone since she lets a lightsome laugh bubble up in her chest I can picture her dimples are showing in full display because of it.

”Did you even pay attention to a word I said?” She sounds more amused than accusing, letting me know that she actually doesn’t mind how my head gets airy sometimes, her playfulness earns a groan from my side of the line, it’s getting pretty late and I have not enough brain cells left for her mind games.

”Spit it out, mom. You know I love you but I had a rough week so spare me of your wicked schemes.” I breathe out the words orbs closing involuntarily as I rest my head against the door frame. Where was I going anyway?

Maybe I should go for a hot chocolate before bed.

It’ll be weird not seeing my family for the holidays but I don’t want my mom to worry about me so I made sure to be extra cheerful all the time when she called only ignored her attempts of reaching me like one or two times as I had to study for two last exams and now that I can finally relax the exhaustion seems to catch up to me. I’m fine being on my own, making food and seasonal sweets while I watch tv without any interruptions, sounds like an excellent plan for Christmas, not caring how loud my music is or how bad my singing voice is under the shower.

No family means sweet alone time awaits, no one will tell me to go to sleep and I didn’t need to worry what kind of a present I should purchase at least for a little while.

”Do you remember Seokjin or not Y/N? This conversation will last longer if you don’t cooperate with me.” I can practically see her eye roll directed at me in front of my eyes despite she’s twenty miles away from here, wishful thinking on my part that she’ll let this conversation go if I ask her to stop beating around the bush.

”I don’t know. Maybe?” A fragment of my memory is triggered by hearing his name, and a scenario appears out of nowhere that was a few years ago in Sunha’s second marriage ceremony as I stand in a pastel lavender dress.

Mother was otherworldly happy for Sunha that day she dragged me with her as she chatted away mixing with the guests until we settled down to our table - when the cake cutting took place - that consisted of the bride and groom themselves and close family members like Sunha’s sons and his significant other’s daughter and, of course, my mother and I was present too.

I remember sitting down and just looking ahead aimlessly when I locked gazes with a handsome man his posture was immaculate and he seemed happy for his mother but couldn’t hide how restlessly he fidgetted in his seat, his eyes couldn’t settle watching only one thing, he even looked skittish as he jumped in his seat when the girl sitting on his left tried to catch his attention. Our eye contact lasted less than five seconds and his presence remained for thirty minutes at most as he apologised to her mother and everyone at the table since he had some urgent affairs to attend to.

I probably looked shocked for the reason that mom whispered the words into my ear when he left so suddenly to make sense of things. ”That’s Jin, her eldest son he serves in the army he probably couldn’t get a full day off because of his duties.” After humming in an understanding gesture I fixed my gaze onto the cake slice in front of me.

I remember that man clearly but with purpose, I don’t elaborate further than that, so she doesn’t have the compromitting piece of information to latch onto and make it a bigger issue. She would be elated to know I do remember Kim Seokjin, well, he’s hard to forget in the first place, he smiled only once as his mother hugged him at the table and even if it lasted for less than a second the expression was captivating. Howbeit if she tells me that she organised a date with him I’m going to slam my head to the closest hard surface I can tell. He’s so out of league and dating someone with such a dangerous profession at that, it’s not going to work, doesn’t matter how much I find him attractive and charming.

”It doesn’t matter I guess. You two could get to know each other eventually as he’ll stay at your apartment.” She drops the bomb before disconnecting the call, she doesn’t even wait for my protests this time around. A groan leaves my lips while I look around the house promptly throwing my phone to land on my bed in the means of letting out some of my frustration. I need to get going and make this house presentable again, that hot chocolate needs to wait I guess.

 from: unknown number

[7.22 AM] Hi it’s Seokjin. My plane will take off at 9ish can you send me your address?

 Grabbing my phone from the kitchen counter I open the message from the unknown number the device almost slips through my fingertips as I rake my eyes over the content hesitant about how to reply I turn to my friend who so generously offered her help to tidy up my living space a little before my unrequested guest arrives. With a broom in her hand, she looks back at my weird facial expression.

”What is it? It’s him?” Gaun asks abandoning her cleaning tools to read the message as well peaking over my shoulder in order to do that. ”He sounds so uptight even in text. Brr.” She shakes her shoulders in simple displeasure that earns an eye roll from me, it’s not that he’ll send hearts when our encounter was years ago for like five seconds. Honestly, I’m surprised that mom and Sunha were able to talk him into this in the first place.

”He’s a soldier Gaun and on the contrary, we don’t know each other he has no reason to be friendly.” Gnawing on my lower lip I click on the message to reply, typing a few lines before I deleted it and rewrote it before hitting send.

 [7.34 AM] Hey of course. Call me if you don’t find your way.

[7.34 AM] *google map link attached*

 from: Seokjin

[7.35 AM] I will thank you

 ”Let’s hurry up we don’t have that much time.” I place the phone back on the counter resuming my cleaning and Gaun starts to swipe the floor where she left off all the while I can hear the washing machine work in the distance.

 I could feel my heartbeat in the pit of my stomach when the doorbell finally rang and at the other side of the door, there’s Kim Seokjin in all of his glory, that handsome soldier I got a sneak peek at his mother’s wedding wearing a formal suit and tie combo that he pulled of so nicely. I wipe my hands with a towel leaving the leftover plates in the sink as I rush to open the door for him.

”Hi.” I greet him with a friendly smile plastered on my face, I have to tilt my chin upwards to meet his eyes, he’s even taller than I remembered and he’s wearing his military uniform. My hold on the doorknob tightens how unfairly handsome he is with his hair parted in both sides leaving his forehead uncovered his uniform is well fitted and compliments the curves of his waist and thighs the cherry on top is his platform jet black boots that matches with the colour of his hair that I love so much.

A well trained German Sheppard sits near his foot with his tongue out as soon as I crouch down to pet him so focused on the animal that I almost don’t catch Seokjin’s timid ’hello’ in return, the dog’s tail starts to wag furiously seeing my face at his eye level he throws me off balance as he marches forward for more pets.

”I’m sorry he’s not normally like this.” The handsome boy offers a hand to help me up with a sheepish look, I accept the extended hand with a faint blush ignoring the pain that shoots up to my ass because of the impact with the floor. His hand is bigger than mine as it gets fully enveloped in his warm ones.

”Mom didn’t tell me you have a dog,” I chuckle lightly as I pet the dog’s head one last time unsure what to do with my hand that he no longer holds. ”I mean, she didn’t tell me much just told me you’ll come today.” His unique laugh sounded nice ringing in my ears, it made me smile up at him as he playfully shook his head. It’s weird how relaxed I feel around his presence when I was shaking with nerves just moments prior, and I’m still not entirely comfortable with him but his whole aura has a calming effect on my body. I don’t think I’ve ever met with someone that makes me feel so at ease when it’s basically our first meeting.

”Yeah, well, I think we both got played by our mothers.” I have to agree on that one with him. Realising that we’re still standing in front of my entrance I beckon him to come inside stepping out of the way so he could easily slide his luggage beside him his dog’s paws leave imprints on the clean floor but I don’t mind it as he looks so excited about everything inside sniffing and exploring while Jin tries to make him behave scratching his neck when his dog doesn’t seem to listen to a single word.

”Sorry he’s making a mess.” Seokjin apologises seeing the muddy paw marks after connecting our eyes for a few seconds he follows the steps into the kitchen. ”No Cookie that’s not food for you.” The young soldier immediately runs after his companion when he tries to steal the cinnamon rolls from the kitchen counter and I can’t help but laugh at the sight as he scolds the dog.

This is going to be an interesting holiday season I can already tell.

 ”I can’t believe this fucking jar.” I contemplate to smash it against the counter after spouting several curse words when a hand landed on mine directly on the jar’s lid, I feel Cookie’s fur brush against my exposed leg having enough evidence to know who’s this arm belongs to and I turn around in a moment of weakness. Jin’s hair rests on the top of his head in a messy style sweat dampening the ends.

”Need some help?” His eyes hold a childlike glow in them as he brushes his fingers against mine replacing my digits with his and the lid pops easily in his hands.

I can’t say this display of physical strength doesn’t make him even more attractive in my eyes I barely pay attention to the fact that he stands so close I can feel his chest meet mine as we breathe handing back the opened strawberry jam.

”Thanks.” I hastily turn to avoid his gaze even though that doesn’t offer much advantage as he leans closer pushing his chest against the line of my back watching as my hands spread the jam over the walnut biscuits.

”Want a taste?” Feeling bolder than usual I face him again holding up a finished treat to his mouth, Jin makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat but parts his lips obediently letting me slip the food between his teeth.

”I’ll leave as a stuffed chicken if you keep feeding me these delicious treats.” Despite the indication, he doesn’t seem against the food I offer as he tries to steal one more from the plate but I pull his hand away curling my fingers around his wrist.

”Let me finish before you devour my hard work you pig.” I roll my eyes watching his childlike antics, he seems to take pleasure in riling me up from time to time. It’s been two days since he and his companion Cookie arrived and things just worked out smoothly Jin is a nice person with horrendous jokes but he does help out a lot around the apartment he even fixed my broken ladder so we can decorate the Christmas tree that he insisted we need to purchase when I told him I was not going to go all out and celebrate this year. After all, I was supposed to be here on my own.

He’s so used to training at headquarters that he leaves every morning to run for an hour before he comes back all sweaty and satisfied finding me eating my breakfast or drinking my coffee it doesn’t matter what’s in my hands he always needs to get the last bites from it. He’s really not good for my heart.

”Since you’re doing the sweets how about I make us lunch today?” Jin asks excitedly resting his head on top of mine gently careful not to put too much weight on me, my heart speeds up at the sweet gesture not trusting my words so I nod instead. One of these days I can’t wrap my head around his intentions, he looks so nonchalant as he does things like resting his head on me or patting my knee when we watch tv together with Cookie curled around us on the couch.

”I can’t work like this.” I use the excuse to separate our bodies, is it just me or the kitchen is getting hotter by every passing second, or it’s just my cheeks heating up due to his body moulding perfectly with mine. It doesn’t help either that I remember he’s sweaty under his shirt after his daily exercise smelling nice when he probably shouldn’t have. I busy my hands to glue the biscuits together with the jam moving slightly to the side a little further from Jin’s warm body, he doesn’t say anything else as he decides to leave the kitchen Cookie stays for the sake of finishing his meal before going on a quest to find his owner leaving me behind with my thoughts.

I wrap things up quickly after that, placing the treats in the middle so Cookie can’t reach it and clean up the jam stains before retreating to my room.

It’s a pleasant surprise to check my phone and see that my mom tried to reach me an hour ago, she’s up uncharacteristically early. Too curious to find out what she wants I dial her number without a second thought, it’s been three days that she called and that time she told me Jin will stay at my place until he has to go back to the army. Whenever I think about that a frown seems to climb its way up to my expression I got used to seeing him around the house that I tend to forget he won’t be around when the new year comes and it’s scary to think about how attached I feel to him or rather how lonely I’ll feel once this is all over. He’s a busy man in general and serving under the Military’s name means he can’t be here when I need him, it would be as painful in the long run as a long-distance relationship would be. Not that I assume he’s interested in me that way.

”Hey mom sorry I didn’t hear your call. Is everything alright?” I press my phone to my left ear, closing the door behind with the help of my foot before sitting down at the edge of my bed. Seokjin’s low hum and the sound of pots and pans indicate that he started soon after I left the kitchen, it’s early to start lunch already but Jin is always restless like that.

He needs to find things to do or fix because he gets bored easily, he told me that when I picked up on his punctuality that he always has to move like a clockwork at the base he developed a habit of making use of himself and he needs to constantly do things to keep his restless energy at bay so he can sleep well at night.

He wakes up exactly at six in the morning every day even without setting up his alarm. I think it’s endearing when he thumps his foot absentmindedly even if he’s watching a movie he’s interested in, legs spread wide in a comfortable position on the sofa, his body just never relaxes completely.

”Yes dear I called early to say Merry Christmas to my baby!” I giggle in response hearing her excitement conveyed through her voice. ”I hope you enjoy your Christmas present.” Her tone turned suggestive and my laughter died down, heat rose to my cheeks and my thoughts spiralled to Seokjin’s direction.

”What’s that supposed to mean?” I glance at the door listening for the noises to make sure Jin can’t hear my flustered tone, he’s still in the kitchen and that helps me relax a little until my mom’s knowing hum filled the silence in the conversation.

”Are you getting on well with Jin right? He’s a real sweetheart so treat him nice ok?” Can’t help but all the more agree with her, he’s very considerate and funny, I think he’s the one who’s treating me nice even though I supposed to be the host, he helps out a lot and good company to be around. He sometimes misplaces my things like moving plates to a higher shelf when he knows I can’t reach it there without his help and he cracks terrible jokes that I secretly like very much and Cookie is the apple of my eye already, I think he listens to me more than he listens to Jin at this point (there might be a tiny connection that I often give him special treats during his owner's absence) and I found it hilarious as he sulks on the couch calling his dog a ’traitor’ when he decides to rest his head on my lap instead of Seokjin’s.

Little things like that make me like Seokjin more and more with each passing day.

”I’m treating him just fine mom he said he gained weight since his arrival blaming it on me, don’t worry and enjoy the holidays with dad, after all, it’s the first time that you two could celebrate with just him after so long.”

”Will do darling. I hope you’ll have a wonderful time as well I know that finals were stressing you out so I hope that you are able to relax now.” We deemed the conversation finished after wishing each other happy holidays again and for once I feel like I can mean my words as I feel relaxed around a certain someone.

”Want to place the star on top?” Jin shoved the decoration piece in front of my face whilst I placed food on the coffee table to feast upon as we watch classic Christmas movies until we can’t keep our eyes open since it’s the first day of Christmas.

”I’m not stepping on that ladder you fixed, it looks like a death trap.” Eyeing all the nails and patches on the poor thing.

”If it can hold my weight so can yours.” Jin states the facts, placing the star into my opened palm with a mischievous grin. ”I’ll hold you so don’t be a baby and decorate with me, it’s not as fun doing it alone.” That pout, dangerous and he knows that I can’t possibly say no to that when he asks me so nicely with that adorable full lips of his.

”If I fall I’m dragging you with me, just saying.” I keep our eye contact to get my point across with a meaningless glare, the corners of my lips twitch to morph into a smile hearing his happy chuckles using that moment to turn to the ladder taking the first step up the stair the scent of Jin’s aftershave hit my sensitive nose feeling his hands curve around my hip squeezing my sides to reassure me he’s here to catch me. I can blame my wobbly legs because of the shaky ladder or on my fear of high places but I can’t fool myself that the delicate shake that overpowers my body is because of the excitement I feel as I daydream about his hands on different parts of my body. It feels nice to be held by him.

”Hold on for deer life then.” A fond smile appears on my face hearing him laugh on the pun he just told me, forget my inner turmoil in the meantime placing the star to add the last piece before we declare it’s complete.

I almost can’t mask the look of disappointment I feel when he lets me go once my feet are planted on the ground the star placed on top.

”Told you it’s safe. I’m here to keep you in one piece, sugar.” His hand landing on the top of my head, caressing my hair for the time length of two outdrawn strokes before he lets his fingers fall beside his body to prop around his hips observing the tree with so much excitement that he failed to see my blush due to the pet name that probably just slipped out without any meaning behind it.

”No Cookie it’s not yours love.” I catch him before he can bite a big chunk out of our late night dinner as we’re not paying attention, it created an opportunity for him that he would’ve been foolish to disregard.

”Cheeky pretty thing just like his owner, huh?” It slips out as I pet Cookie’s head kneading the soft short furs around his ears that he knocks our heads together in beaming excitement because of the affection.

”Cookie really likes you Y/N.” The affectionate gaze he looks at me with knocks the air out of my lungs, it sounded like for a split second that he means he likes me too. Wishful thinking I remind myself before looking away clearing my throat to get things started plopping down onto the couch with a big huff leaving my lips.

”I’m starving, get your fat ass over here so we can watch Grinch.” I beam at him acting like his previous comment doesn’t hit hard as I pull my plate closer taking a bite out of the grilled chicken.

”How rude-olf of you!” He fakes his crocodile tears but as his ass hits the fluffy blanket nearly ripping my hot cocoa out of my hands it doesn’t seem like he’s feeling an ounce of hurt over my words. It’s silent for a while as we bash under the Christmas lights our faces illuminated by the tv munching on our food and sweets laid out before us Cookie resting on the rug near our feet.

”It’s been a while since I had such a nice Christmas.” Jin sighs burrowing his face onto my shoulder I can feel his breath fan over my skin the movie is long forgotten as I let his words sink in. Tired to fight the urge I tilt my head to rest it against his the moment appears to be too intimate for strangers let alone friends. ”You smell nice too.” I feel his nose around my neckline turning further into me as he inhales the scent of my hair, maybe it’s because it’s getting late but I let the feelings wash over me.

”Did you drink from my mother’s ’secret Santa’ labelled punch or something? I told you she’s a witch when it comes to alcoholic beverages.” I laugh lightheartedly and Jin follows suit hitting my left thigh when his laugh makes me laugh harder that results in my stomach twisting in pain from all the giggling even so as he starts to tickle me to take his revenge. He manhandles me with ease as he pins my wrists with one hand over my head ticking my torso with the other straddling my hip so he can restrict my squirming under him.

”You’re stronger! That’s not fair Jin.” I whine under his crushing weight, cheeks flushed from the exercise and his close proximity an innocent smile lits up his entire face as he regards me under his form, the Christmas lights are illuminated in his dark orbs creating a pretty image of him. Hair sticking to every questionable direction full lips stretched to house his angelic smile warm radiating from his body so close to mine.

I wish this moment could last forever.

”What are you thinking about?” Tilting his head in question he looks into my eyes with a fierce expression, I gulp not knowing to say the truth or come up with something on the spot. I decided it’s time for the truth.

”That I..” My sentence gets interrupted by Cookie’s barking I haven’t realised that he around the time we were occupied left his spot and watched us with curious eyes. He licked both of our faces as soon as he had the attention and Jin got up from the couch to pet him as Cookie nudged him with his nose to show him his empty bowl.

Maybe it’s a sign that I shouldn’t. Right. What was I thinking? Seokjin is never home he serves the country all the time, married to his work to the extent that he has no time left for himself, he doesn’t have the capacity to form a serious relationship with me and he’s probably not looking for love either.

It’s for the best that we separate after the new year.

 I formed a plan after almost confessing my love for him to avoid any other scenarios like this in the future, to be honest, I hated it but there’s no other way for me to get over him quickly even if my heart told me I should enjoy my little time left with him I choose to ignore his attempts at spending quality time with me.

If he asked for a movie night I told him I was busy or tired I took my meals to my room telling him that I need to pick up my studying schedule for the next semester, I had the most ridiculous reasons and I’m sure he figured me out after the second time I dismissed our plans and I can’t say seeing him hurt over my words and futile attempts at lying doesn’t felt like I was stabbed with a dozen knives into my heart.

I should have stopped myself before I got too deep because now I’m hurting both of us even if he’s only mourning for a lost friend.

A scratching noise interrupted the flow of my thoughts I tiptoe all the way to the door looking around before my eyes land on a restless Cookie. He reminds me so much of his owner but he normally stays with Jin I wonder what is he doing here scratching on my door. Is he out perhaps?

”What’s wrong? You seem sad.” I crouch to his level so I can caress his fur and his tail begin to wag instantly when I pull back Cookie grabs my sleeve with his teeth careful not to hurt me before he pulls me out of my room. I try to regain my footing but he pulls me harder until my door shuts behind my back.

”Cookie. What’s up with you suddenly?” I ask him even if I know there’s no reply to wait for I observe his body language before realisation lit up in my round orbs. ”You want me to follow you somewhere sweetheart?” Hearing that he let go suddenly making me lose my balance and collide with the floor cushioning the hit with my butt just like the first time I met him when he nearly run me over with excitement. He tumps his foot as he walks away hardly leaving enough time to catch up to him. He sits down in front of Seokjin’s door, or precisely the guest room he occupies for a short period I remind myself. My eyes soften after noticing it’s his way of showing that he doesn’t want us to part in bad terms. He’s smart.

I take in a deep breath mulling over if I should talk to Jin but looking at Cookie’s hopeful eyes I can’t possibly turn around and ignore this anymore. Jin deserves a better explanation than just accepting the fact one day I ghosted him.

I raise my hand to knock on his door when I hear his voice, he’s talking to someone over the phone since I didn’t hear the front door opening or closing that would mean we have a guest and I don’t think he would invite someone here without discussing it with me, no matter if we are in speaking terms or not.

”I don’t know what happened. I thought we are good but then the next day she didn’t want to do anything with me. I’m confused.” Is he talking about me? To whom? I know eavesdropping is bad but I can’t make my body pull away from the door as I listen intently. I don’t hear what the person from the other side says only Jin’s answers that I’m able to make out as I press my ear to the smooth surface.

”Of course I tried talking to her mom! What if I said or did something that made her hate me? I don’t want to leave like this, we had so much fun. I don’t want it to end this way.” Jin groaned frustratedly while listening to his mom, hearing his voice so worried and tense talking to his loved one about me that knows me very well, I feel ten times worse for ignoring him without giving him an honest explanation.

”I like her mom, but maybe it’s already too late.”

Retreating to my room in sheer panic when he cuts the line to afraid to be caught to rationalise the words I overheard. He likes me too.

All this time I thought that my feelings are not reciprocated whilst in reality I’m just a big coward, I hid behind the fabricated words that his profession is something that doesn’t sit well with me and he has no time to have a girlfriend, but I never tried asking what he wanted. If he wanted to give us a chance or not.

These thoughts plagued my mind until I fall asleep that night, however, tomorrow will be something different.

”Good morning.” I greet Seokjin as he walks out with only his sweatpants on eyes puffy from sleep, he’s so startled by my voice that he jumps at least five centimetres above the ground and the chuckle I let out witnessing his fright confuses him more.

”Uh, good morning.” He replies, at last, passing my form to pull out a mug probably for his morning coffee but I have his fill in my hand while mine is placed on the counter next to my hip. ”The ghost of Christmas visited you last night or something?” Jin watches my form suspiciously but accepting the steaming cup of coffee with a soft ’thanks’ rolling off of his tongue.

”Something like that. Can we talk?” I meet his gaze shyly picking up on my nervous habit as I nibble on my lower lip his eyes soften up.

”Yeah, let’s sit.” He prompts and I nod following his figure to the dining table where we sit on the opposite sides of it. We drink our beverages in peace for a few minutes before I lick my lips nervously opening my mouth to talk.

”I like having you here Jin. This Christmas with you was wonderful even your bad puns are surprisingly funny.” The man in front of me giggles at that, hearing that I had fun with him dismissed some of his insecurities and he looks more relaxed sitting before me sipping on his drink occasionally, waiting.

”I’m sorry for ignoring you it was very childish of me and you deserve an explanation. If I’m being honest you scare me.” His eyebrows shoot up at the mention and I’m eager to make things clear. I don’t want him to take my words literally. ”Or maybe it’s me. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I like you a lot. It scares me because you’re a soldier and you’re never home and I would be so worried wondering about if you are safe.”

”Even if I say all of that I couldn’t make myself to unlike you because you’re funny bad pun or not, caring and affectionate and too good for this world...I just really like you.”

Shying away from his intense stare I choose to observe the rim of my mug watching the dark liquid swirl in my cup when a finger tapped on my chin to look up. The brightest smile adorned Jin’s face that is so close our noses almost touch.

”I normally hate to say that our moms were right all along but right now I’m just glad that they made us spend this Christmas together.” Seokjin’s forehead knocks against mine as we laugh, nodding subtly to avoid more damage as my smile spreads wider I notice how Jin’s eye keeps looking between my eyes and lips and I can’t wait for him to finally reduce the short distance closing my eyes to fully appreciate his finger caressing my jaw, cupping my face letting our breaths entangle for a short second before I get to taste the coffee on his lips.

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Seven): Flying Towards An Early Grave

Notes: Still posting my little backlog, I will warn in advanced, the next chapter is the heist (finally) AND IT IS A CHONKER, but for now have a little appetizer with some fun times, smut, and foreshadowing!~

Word Count: 10860

Chapter Warnings: heavy foreshadowing, food, blowjobs, groping, protected vaginal sex, car sex

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V’s body is heavy as she gets to her apartment door, ready to curl up into bed and call it a day. She’s exhausted with adrenaline gone. She presses her thumb to the panel. The little intercom doorbell is also the lock, scanning and searching for SID validation. It takes a moment to scan, it seems to be lagging more lately. 

Calling. 

The intercom says it’s calling, why is it calling? She can hear the automated ringing and her lights inside are probably flashing. It only does this if the SID doesn’t match the apartment owner’s, assuming them a guest. V presses again. 

Calling. 

She presses harder. 

Calling. 

She tries her entire hand.

Calling. 

She kicks her door, a heavy sound as her boot collides with it. That doesn’t help with the lock, but it makes her feel a little better. Just what she needs; bloody, sore, and locked out of her apartment for who fucking knows why? Her stomach growls as she pulls up the number for building maintenance. 

“Megabuilding Maintenance, how can I help?” 

“I’m locked out of my apartment,” V signs, her choker translator on. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The lock isn’t recognizing my SID.” 

“Can I get your name and apartment number?” 

V gives them the details and they say they’re sending a maintenance guy. All of the services floor is nearly shut down at the late hour, her stomach growling. No doubt the maintenance guy will take his sweet fucking time, so much for getting some decent sleep. She gets a burrito, a Nicola, and a little thing of ketchup from the machines. Sitting on the ground near her door, dumping ketchup on her burrito as she eats it. 

By the time the guy arrives she’s finished eating, drinking, and is a little unsure what’s dried blood versus dried ketchup on her shirt. She hops to her feet when she sees the guy walking up, a massive case of resting bitch face. V doubts he wanted to be dragged out at three am to help unlock a door, but it’s not her fault the tech fucked up. 

“You V?” he asks, voice gruff and annoyed. 

“Yep.” 

“Hard day?”  His eyebrow raises, gaze focused on her blood stained flesh and chrome. 

“Work.” 

“Ah… I see,” he nods, “so, what's the issue with your door?” 

Night City is one of the few places where one can just admit to being a mercenary for a living, even if it did earn her an odd look. V presses her hand to the lock button again and it once again initiates a call. 

“Doesn’t recognize my SID.” 

“Hmm, you are V, right?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Who the fuck else would I be? The building has a picture of me on file for fucks sake.” 

“Hey, hey, nowadays with enough eddies anybody can look like anybody.” 

“If I had an identity worth stealing, you really think I’d be living here?” 

“Fair enough, let’s check something,” he pulls out a holo tablet, jacking it into the bottom of the intercom lock, “this will show what the lock is reading it as, try again.” 

V keeps an eye on his tablet as she presses her hand back to the lock and the projected information starts to show. And for a moment she sees herself; her face, her name, her information, and all the shit Vik had to set up for her to have SID. Then in a blink of an eye it glitches out and the information shifts. She watches her nearly mugshot like photo shift into that of a man, with short dark hair and dark eyes. V [REDACTED] becomes Robert John Linder. Birthdate shifting from November 12th, 2056 to November 16, 1988.  Birthplace shifting from Seven Devils, North Carolina to College Station, Texas.  

Who the hell is this old man? 

“Looks like it’s reading your SID chip as someone else's, strange, any chance you’ve been spiked by a ‘runner?” 

“No, even if I was, not sure why they’d want to make my SID register to some senior citizen.” 

“Weird, can’t think of how else this would happen? Seems like it starts to read your chip and then changes to this guy’s. Do you know him?” 

“Don’t hang around old folks homes too much, actually. Just some random dude to me.” 

“Hmmm.” 

“I can promise you, I’m not a ninety year old cowboy man.” 

“Somehow I noticed that, actually… looks like the guy is dead.” 

“What?” 

“Mmhmm, scroll down a bit and there’s the date his death certificate was issued,” the guy shows her, “you’ll probably need to have your SID looked at, see what’s wrong with it. For now, I can unlock it for you and have them add whoever this guy is to registered owners, so, you won’t be locked out until you fix it.” 

“Fine, I guess.” 

“But that does mean if this guy’s ghost decides to pop in for a visit, lock won’t stop him,” the man jokes, offering the first smile since he’s been here. 

“Somehow I’ll handle it, thanks for the help, and if it’s not too much trouble can you forward me the details of that SID info?” 

“Sure, no problem,” the maintenance man’s eyes glow and she can feel the very soft warmth and whirr of her neuroplant as it accepts the file. 

She gives one final thanks as he unlocks her apartment and she’s finally able to step foot inside. Thankfully her door locks behind her and she makes a beeline for her shower, scrubbing blood and sweat from her skin; finding bruises, cuts, and flesh wounds she hadn’t noticed in the midst of fighting. 

It takes her a little longer than expected to wind down for the night, the merc putting in her optic contacts and playing with the bot. Looking through its eyes, she has it twist and climb all throughout her apartment, making herself dizzy until she falls out of  bed and bangs her head against the floor. Finally, putting the cute spider looking tech away when she feels the knot starting to form on her head. Then, setting her alarm and sleeping for the night. 

V is still tired when her alarm vibrates beneath her pillow, waking her up as the sunlight streams in from her large window, warming her skin. She checks her phone, double checks the time and that Dex hasn’t sent the car for her yet. The young merc rushes through her morning routine; showering, brushing her teeth, dressing, and taking her medication with some Chromanticore in hopes of getting some energy back. 

She’s out the door and has her  mask on in a matter of minutes, phone buzzing with the message that Dex’s car is waiting for her. As she comes down the steps of her building she sees the same limousine and bodyguard waiting outside of it. But this time when he opens the door for her, there is no Dex, nobody. Chills creep their way up her spine, but she gets in nonetheless, sinking into the leather backseat as Dex’s guard starts to drive them away. 

The guard is quiet, doesn’t explain where they’re going or why, V has a feeling he wouldn’t tell even if she asked. So, she doesn’t. Only the radio drones on, a mixture of news and occasional pop music from bands and singers she doesn’t know or care to know; an anouncer coming over the radio to speak somberly. 

“Today marks the fifty-fourth anniversary of the attack on Arasaka Tower. Fifty-four years ago a group of terrorists stormed Arasaka Tower and detonated a bomb, which forever changed the history of our dear city. Devastating the lives of millions; thousands dying in the initial attack and more perishing in the aftermath as well. Today we ask for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in this senseless act of violence so many years ago….:” 

A beat of silence, barely a moment, then the high energy voice returns. 

“Now, after this short music break, we return with the heartwarming story of Stumpy, the three legged puppy who’s gone viral after the use of  veterinary cyberware has given the pup a new lease on life!~” 

V rolls her eyes, sounds about right, barely a moment for something so somber. No real grief or empathy, time to move on to a cute puppy because that keeps people happy and listening.  She watches the city around her change, spotting the Valentino graffiti starting to cover the buildings and that they’re entering Heywood.  She sends a heads up text to Jackie, letting him know they’re not far from his house. 

A short moment after,  the driver is parking outside Jackie’s garage and she watches the older merc walking out. The guard opens the limousine back door and Jackie relaxes when he sees V, climbing into the seat next to her. 

“Hey, V, you figure out what’s going on?” 

“Was sort of hoping you had…” 

“Asked T-Bug, said it’s a surprise.” 

“Not sure I like Bug’s idea of surprises.” 

“Hey, hombre,” Jackie calls out to the guard as he starts to drive them away, “mind telling us where we’re headed?” 

They’re met with silence, because of they are. V nervously wrings her hands as she watches for signs of where they’re going based on the passing scenery. 

“Has to be something to do with prepping for the job, just wish I knew what.” 

“Speaking of which, you got the bot on you?” 

“Yeah, brought it just in case and if Bug’s there she’ll want to take a look. Wonder if there’s any chance of keeping the Flathead after this?” 

She knows Dex said it’s a single use toy, but...who knows, maybe she could somehow keep it afterwards. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Its cute.” 

“You think a military grade combat bot is cute?” 

“It's a little spider.” 

“You find the weirdest shit cute, I swear.” 

“It is cute!” 

“It��s-” Jackie looks out the window, “shit are we in Corpo Plaza?” 

“Maybe we’re just passing through?” 

As if only to prove her wrong, the limousine parks outside a store on Senate Avenue, the bright sign says Jinguji. Even looking through the window, it looks entirely like a place that her and Jackie do not belong. Brightly lit, immaculately clean with fancy designer clothes on display. 

“We’re here,” the guard tells them and the doors open with the press of a button. 

V and Jackie share a look before getting out of the limousine, standing before the Jinguji store like deers stuck in headlights. 

“Dex can’t be serious, Jinguji?” Jackie says, scratching at the shaved underneath of his hair. 

“Looks…. Fancy.” 

“Corp store, designer; a sock in there will cost you a few thousand eddies.” 

“I know he says we need to play corpo, but… I don’t know, it feels weird.”

“I’m sure Dex knows what he’s doing. But, uh,  you gotta take off the mask, chica.” 

“What, why?” 

“‘Cause its fucking Jinguji, they’re not gonna let you through the door looking like that.” 

“You’re one to talk, you got a ketchup stain on your shirt.” 

“Firstly, that’s blood. Secondly, you’re a wearing a jacket you stole off a dead guy last week.” 

“Not like he needs it!” 

“Jackie, V!” A voice yells out, drawing the merc’s attention into the doorway of the store, T-Bug in realspace, wearing a black netrunning suit, “would you gonks stop bickering and get in here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the mercs speak and sign in unison, falling the netrunner into the corp store.

There’s a large lit up advertisement at the back of the store. Gold decor dripping down from the ceiling, plush white couches, and an ice bucket with champagne. To her surprise, there’s no other shoppers within the store. A man in a tailored designer suit sits at the desk, greeting the two mercs as they walk in. 

“Welcome to Jinguji, an oasis of elegance!~” 

V gives an awkward nod and wave. She’s not sure what else to do. She doesn’t belong here; she knows that much. A dirty black leather jacket under the bright lights and old raggedy boots on shiny polished floors.  The merc wants nothing more than to run out of the store, some of the clothes she sees displayed are nice, if she’s being honest. A few bit tacky for her taste, but others are cute or sexy with dramatic flair, but nothing she would ever really have a reason to wear. 

“Mind telling us why the fuck we’re here, Bug?” Jackie asks and the netrunner chuckles. 

“To get into Konpeki, you two will have to look the part. Rather than blindly guessing what will fit, Dex is flitting the bill and getting you both some corpo threads,” T-Bug explains, taking a seat on on of the couches. 

“Where is everyone?” 

“Store is rented out for the next couple hours, discretion. V, did you bring the bot?” 

“Got it in my bag.” 

“Lemme see, got to make sure it’s in working shape.” V puts the bot down on the table, T-Bug opening the case and looking over the bot, running diagnostics that the merc can’t begin to understand,

“Right this way, you two, I’m sure we’ll find something perfect for both of you,” the man who greeted them, grabs their attention again, “but it would be easier,  if I have a full idea of your features, miss.” 

“Told you,” Jackie taunts and V elbows him in the side, slowly taking off her mask and she feels bare. And she knows people have seen her face before, but this is work and it just feels… wrong. 

“Wonderful, so we’ll begin with the gentlemen, I think you’ll find we have a wonderful array of fine suits in our men’s department.” 

The man, who’s fancy name tag says Zane, shows them a vast collection of suits. They range from slick classic black ones, deep navy blues, florals, brights, embroidered, and every color she can imagine. Its hard to imagine the big merc in any of them. She’s always seen him in muscle shirts or his favorite red and black jacket. His eyes seem to land on a red suit with gold detailing. 

“Well-” 

“Point is to blend in, not stand out, Jack,” T-Bug calls out, scolding him without having to even look at him or his choice in suit. 

“Just black then.” 

“Wise choice, sir, our tailors will get your measurements and get the perfect fit for you.” 

Another employee guides Jackie to a fitting room and V feels the sudden urge to sink into the ground, Zane’s attention now solely on her.  She scratches at her cheek and flips on her choker translator. 

“Now, what about you? We have plenty of formal options in women’s fashion as well. A more androgynous business suit or perhaps a dress?” 

She’s shown mannequins dressed in tight body con dresses with various necklines, materials, colors, and a few well fitted pants suits. Her eyes are drawn to the dresses, if she’s being honest. She has a rather small collection of skirts and dresses, for off days, but she never has a chance to wear anything more formal than a sundress or mini skirt over leggings. These dresses are dramatic, gorgeous; some with mesh inlays or cut outs. 

But, like Bug said;  they’re there to blend in, not stand out. This isn’t an outfit for fun but for work and if something goes wrong, the last thing she needs is this going to shit and having to battle in a tight constricting dress or too high of heels. 

“I think a pants suit in black would be best; keep it simple.” 

“Understood.” 

V taken to a fitting room, given the chance to put on the ready to buy pantsuits in privacy. A stark white button up blouse, black blazer, and black slacks. And she knows immediately it will need to be tailored to suit her; the pants longer than her legs and the shirt loose around her chest. The tailor comes in after a moment and begins measuring, marking where things need to be taken in and raised. V left trying not to get embarrassed each time the measuring tape is wrapped around a part of her.

“Is there a way to make the blazer sleeves easier to roll up?” She signs once her arms are done being measured. The material is stiffer and harder to get tight around her elbows when trying; she wants her Mantis Blades easily used.

“Hmm, lets see, maybe it’d be best to use it more like an accessory rather than wearing it properly?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you could just wear it over your shoulders like a cape,” the woman drapes it that way across V’s shoulders. 

“Not my thing.” 

“Then you can carry it, like this,” the woman shows  holding the jacket back over her shoulder with her fingers hooked in it’s collar. It looks alright, casual enough, though having a jacket and not wearing it still reads as strange to the merc.

“I’ll consider that.” 

“It can also help keep you cool. Now, lets talk about makeup, hair, and shoes.” 

V listens and nods as the woman gives recommendations; getting V a pair of low heeled black synthetic leather shoes. Then going into advice on hair; recommending french twist, a bun, or a low ponytail depending on how formal V wants to go. The woman recommends simple classic makeup styles and a few other tips for the merc to meet her full corpo potential. Finally, with measurements, adjustments, and everything marked; V is allowed to change back into her street clothes. She leaves the room, seeing Jackie already in his regular clothes again and sitting next to T-Bug. 

“We have all the measurements down and will begin altering the clothes immediately.” 

“Good,” T-Bug confirms with Zane, “remember we need them finished and delivered to The Afterlife by five.” 

“I assure you, our tailors are already on it.” 

“V,” T-Bug calls out when she sees the short merc, “got something for you.” 

V sits down on the couch, watching as T-Bug sets out a pair of white hearing aids. They’re designed like her normal ones, just more boring. 

“Hearing aids? I already have those.” 

“These are special, optic camo. No corpo worth their salt has anything less than top of the line phonic implants, with press of a button or a thought, these will go invisible.. They’ll work just like your regular ones, but look like you’re wearing nothing. Try them out.” 

She switches her blue hearing aids with the new ones, they fit well and she pushes the thought of turning the camo on.  V catches her reflection in a mirror in the store, she can feel them, but see nothing. 

“Perfect, no one will be any the wiser. This also means no signing or translator.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

“I know its not ideal, but it’s just the reality of it. Corpo types like this; lose your hearing, new implants. Vocal chords fried, get a new set in gold. Get paralyzed, new legs or entire nervous system. Go blind, new optics. They see you signing or using hearing aids, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb.” 

“I get it.” 

“No sweat,  I’ll do the talking, V,” Jackie comforts her and then turns his attention to Bug, “So, what now?” 

“We’ll go over the full plan this evening at The Afterlife, you two need to be there by five. We’ll talk with Dex and you’ll be in Konpeki by eight tonight, relic in hand before midnight strikes.” 

“So we get to kick back and relax until five?” 

“As long as you’re there by five and ready to go, I couldn’t care less what you do, Jack.” 

“Said this place was rented out, right?” V asks, noticing a dramatic purple dress that reminds her of a certain tarot card reader’s favorite color.

“Yeah, why?” 

“How much longer is this place reserved?” 

“Another hour, maybe two and again, I ask why?” 

“Ow, hell that for, chica?” Jackie looks up when V kicks him in the shin. 

“Call Misty, dumbass. Buy her something nice, make a date out of it before we go on the job.”  V tells him, remembering Misty’s concerns from the other night. It might ease her mind a bit to have a nice afternoon with Jackie, dress shopping and a fancy lunch in City Center. Just a chance to enjoy themselves. 

“Dex is nice V, but sincerely doubt he wants to pay for Misty a new dress.” 

“Oh no, if only one of us had scammed ten grand off of Militech, oh wait,” V says, pulling the Militech credchip from her bag and sees the twinkle in Jackie’s eyes. 

“You serious, V?” 

“Should get her a hell of a nice dress, maybe you a suit, and a nice fancy lunch; play corpo for an afternoon.” 

“Shit, V,” he takes the credchip from her fingers, “what’d I do without you?” 

“You two are going to make me puke,” T-Bug says, rolling her eyes while Jackie is already calling up Misty. 

“Just wait until Misty gets here and the constant pet names start,  you’ll really lose your lunch.” 

“Ugh, more reason to get out of here, I’ll be taking the Flathead with me to keep in working shape.” 

“Can I ask you something before you go?”

“Got more code you need me to check?” 

“Not quite, had an issue with my SID chip last night, was wondering if there was a chance I was hacked?” 

“You get spiked, jaina?” Jackie asks when he finishes chatting with Misty. 

“Don’t know, couldn’t unlock my door last night, reader thought I was some old dude.” 

“Hmm, SID hacks are tricky, we’re going to be using one for your covers in Konpeki. But they usually only alter your ID a bit and die after so many hours. Thing is, that wouldn’t really benefit anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, I don’t think anyone would get much out of pretending I’m some ninety year old dead fuck.” 

“I can jack in, see if I find anything in your soft.” 

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” 

V shifts her back to T-Bug, sweeping her hair off the nape of her neck and showing her neuroports. The netrunner pushes some loose strands out of the way and slots her personal jack into V’s biomon. A few moments pass and V can feel her cheeks flushing a bit, a weird feeling to having T-Bug directly touch her and jack in to her tech. This is the first time they’ve met in person, may even be the first time Bug has seen her face. 

“Everything looks clear to me, SID is registering as yours, no signs of a hack,” Bug explains, jacking out. 

“Weird, maintenance guy showed last night it was showing as some dead guy.” 

“Strange, must be some sort of glitch.” 

“Or you’re being haunted.” 

“Haha, very funny, Jackie.” 

“Hello… “ 

A soft voice calls out and V lights up seeing Misty poking her head into the fancy luxury store, looking every bit as nervous as V had been. Jackie is up and rushing towards Misty in a heart beat, pulling her into a hug and twirling her around, kissing her head. 

“You’re here, mi carina.” 

“Babe,” Misty says, giggiling as she’s put back down on her feet, then steps up on her tip toes to kiss Jackie’s lips. 

“Gonna puke,” T-Bug comments low under her breath and V tries not to laugh. 

“V, Bug,” Misty smiles at the two, “glad I got here before you two left out.” 

“What’s up?” 

Jackie walks Misty over closer to them, large hand on her hip as she rummage through her purse. After a moment, she pulls out three beaded bracelets. A mixture of beads in black, gold, and blue mottled with gold. T-Bug is already raising her eyebrow and V’s not sure how well Misty’s spiritualism will go over with the runner. 

“These are protection bracelets. Lapis lazuli, black tourmaline, and gold sheen obsidian. They’re all meant to help with creating a protective spiritual barrier, it should keep you all safe from negative energies and frequencies.” 

“Ay, you still in knots over this, mi alma?” 

“It would just make me feel better knowing you have a little more protection, babe.” 

Misty slides the biggest of the bracelets onto Jackie’s wrist and he gives her a soft smile, kissing her temple before starts to give the others to V and Bug. The young merc slides it on with a smile and T-Bug takes it in hand, with a less enthusiasm. 

“Thanks, Misty, I appreciate it,” V tells her and elbows T-Bug in the side, earning her a glare, but the netrunner plays nice. 

“Thanks…” 

“I know it’s not much, but a little protection is better than none and should keep energies bright.” 

“Right….” 

“Well,” V cuts in before Bug can say anything else, “we’ll be getting out of your hair, have fun you two!~” 

“Thanks again, V, see you two at The Afterlife.” 

Jackie waves them off, Bug packing up and V putting her usual hearing aids in their case, away in her pocket. The runner and young merc leave the store, Dex’s guard already left a while ago, so V will have to either call her car or use the public transit. Come to think of it, she’s not sure how she’s going to kill time until its game time. 

“V,” Bug stops her outside Jinguji before they go their separate ways for now, “gotta ask, you really believe in that spiritual crap?” 

“No, but she does and it makes her happy, so, why not?”

“I guess, if she really thinks a bracelet is going to save us from Arasaka.” 

“Won’t kill you to accessorize a little, Bug.” 

“Whatever you say.” 

They say their goodbyes and V is left thinking again about what she wants to do to pass the time. She could do a few short gigs, but her mind is preoccupied with the heist. Ultimately, V finds herself taking the NCART to El Coyote Cojo. Mostly just because she’s bored and maybe something or someone there will occupy her time.  The bar isn’t too active at the early hour and she doesn’t see Mama Welles around. 

“V!” Pepe greets her when she walks through. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“Same old, same old. Jaquito is still out, Senora Welles is out shopping, but Jake is taking out the trash in the back if you want to say hi.” 

“I think I might go and do just that.” 

Playing grab ass with one of her go to lays seems like a solid way to waste her time. V walks through the bar and out one of the backdoors that open to the alley with the dumpster. Sure enough, Jake is there tossing away a trash bag. He’s around 6’5 about as tall as Jackie, muscular, with a head of ginger hair shaved down on the shades and a thick beard. 

She throws her arms around his waist, feeling the muscle underneath his shirt. He teases his fingers over her forearms, the chrome of his Gorilla Fingers cyberware sending a soft chill through her skin. 

“Hey, V, new chrome?” He runs over the chrome patterns in her arms. 

She hums against his back in response, not wanting to move. But, he twists in her arms. He cups her face in chromed fingers, for a moment, his browns furrow in confusion. 

“No hearing aids?” 

She pulls away, enough space for her to sign. 

“Camouflage ones, it and the blades are necessary for the gig.” 

“Oh yeah, Jackie’s been talking everyone to death about this heist you two got planned. He better be damn glad no one here’s got loose lips.” His hands drop from her face and loosely wrap around her waist, fingers starting to graze over her ass. 

“Can’t blame him for being excited.” 

“Hmmm and you?” 

“Nervous.” 

“Figured as much,” he squeezes her ass, “you looking for a distraction?” 

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be letting you grope my ass in broad daylight, now would I?” 

A low dry chuckle echoes in his chest and he dives in for a kiss. It’s quick and rough, his beard scratching over her skin before he pulls away. She can’t help but giggle as he pulls her back into the bar, hand still shamelessly on her ass. 

“Pepe! I’m going on lunch break!” 

“Yeah yeah, go on.” 

“C’mon,” Jake guides her out of the bar, “lemme at least buy you lunch first.” 

“You actually trying to be nice today?” 

“Something like that.” 

V settles into his passenger side seat as Jake climbs behind the wheel. They pull away from El Coyote Cojo, driving around Heywood and finding a drive in to go through, Burgers, fries, and pop bought; Jake finds a relatively empty place to park meanwhile V has already begun taking the pickles off her burgers. 

“So, you wanna actually talk about it?” Jake asks, taking a bite of his burger. 

“Not much to talk about,” she signs with salt covered fingers and a mouthful of fries, “biggest job of our career. Nerves are natural.” 

Not to mention the shady client, the fact they’re robbing Arasaka, the fact they’re robbing Yorinobu specifically, the fact they have to play corpo, that V will have to force herself not to sign, and that every fiber of her being is screaming that something  is going to go wrong. Then she has the weirdness of her SID chip fucking up on her mind as well. 

“Yeah, but you overthink, so I know that little brain of yours is spinning in a billion directions.” 

V shrugs, “No more than usual, so,  what’s been going on with you?” 

“Not much, been thinking of quitting the bar.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, get to work the day shift so I can pick the twins up from school and spend some time with them. But, day shift in a bar basically means staring at a wall and waiting for Senora Welles to cut me a paycheck.” 

“You don’t like getting paid to sit around and look pretty?” 

“Not gonna lie, it’d be hard to find a boss as forgiving as Senora Welles.” 

“Not every boss would let you take an hour or longer lunch just to play grab ass with me?” 

“Eh, pretty sure if she knew what I was doing with her precious adopted daughter, she’d already have me fired.” 

“Oh please, she’s known you longer than me.” 

“Yeah, but she likes you more, you’re basically her kid and I’m her employee,” he pauses watching V roll her eyes, “you know, she’s been worrying a lot about you and Jackie, lately. She knows things are getting riskier with the merc work and-” 

V quiets him with a kiss, not wanting to hear another word of this. She comes to him for a distraction. The kiss is messy and he tastes like greasy fast food, but she’s sure she’s not any better, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She cups his jaw with one hand, scratching over his beard and as he deepens the kiss, she drops her other hand into his lap. He’s already half hard in his jeans, pressing into her touch as she gropes him through the denim. Jake curses against her lips, breaking their kiss. 

“You talk too much, honey,” she chastises him, a soft smile on her lips as she undoes his belt buckle, he lifts his hips, allowing  space to pull his pants and boxer down just enough to get his cock out. 

She pulls her legs up into her seat, on her knees so she can fully lean over the center console into his lap. V pushes hair back behind her ear and takes his dick into her mouth; not bothering to tease, swallowing around him. The taste of him on her tongue causes a heat in her center to stir, getting slick between her thighs as she bobs her head up and down. He groans as she strokes and sucks him, teasing her tongue ring along the head of his cock. The bitterness of his precum and the salt of his skin making her dizzy with need. 

His chrome fingers slide across the expanse of her back, reaching out to grab her ass. He gropes and fondles her through her pants, the rough feeling of her jeans and panties being pressed against her sensitive wet folds. Jake curses as V alternates between sucking, licking, and taking him as deep into her throat as she can. 

He tugs on her hair, bleached strands wrapped around chrome, pulling her mouth off him. Drool covering his cock and her lips. She pouts at him for stopping her, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy.  He gives her a swat on the ass, barely hard enough to sting. 

“Want inside of you.” 

That’s all the explanation he gives and she pulls away, thankful that the windows of his car have steamed from body heat, she begins to quickly strip off her clothes. Its clumsy as she tries to strip down in a car seat, throwing her jacket off into the back, kicking off her boots, before yanking her pants and panties down in one fluid movement. She curses herself for not wearing a skirt or something with easier access. A part of her mind recognizes how stupid she must look, still in her shirt, bra, and her socks staying on after tugging off her pants. But lust has killed her ability to think, just wanting him inside of her. Jake has rolled a condom on, but otherwise has simply watched the flustered merc strip down. 

V’s easily able to jump into his lap, straddling him and having her back to the steering wheel. She steadies herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other lining his cock up with her entrance, sinking herself down onto his dick. She’s slick enough that she takes him all in one movement, both cursing out at the feeling. The stretch of his cock inside of her and the tightness of her cunt around him. Jake digs his nails into her hips and bounces her on his cock, fucking up into her. He takes complete control, setting a brutal pace that leaves V reeling with every thrust. All she can do is wrap her arms around his neck and moan against his sweaty skin, accepting each harsh movement of him inside of her. 

The tension inside of her grows tighter with every thrust, every smack of skin against skin like a strike of a match trying to grow a larger flame. She can’t think, can’t focus, every thought consumed with pleasure and a desire to be pushed over the edge. Bruises form on her hips where he hold her, where he uses her for pleasure. The chair of his cheap car creaks with each bounce and a few thrusts slams her lower back into the steering wheel, but she doesn’t care, couldn’t if she tried. She whines and whimpers against his skin, feeling her end nearing. 

And then the tension snaps, orgasm hitting her fast and hard, she digs her nails into his skin, squirming and writhing as she moans out her pleasure. Mind a haze as she’s overwhelmed with her pleasure. He thrusts a few more times and she nearly chokes at the continued stimulation, the feeling of him fucking into her already sensitive cunt. Then he curses, bringing her hips down fully to meet his own one last time before he cums, spilling his seed inside the condom. 

V rolls off of him and back into the passenger seat, hating the empty feeling  Her skin is sweaty and flushed, as much she hates it, she needs to get her clothes back on. Fumbling to get her pants and panties out of the passenger side floorboard. Pulling them on and shoving her feet in her boots. V waits as Jake ties off the condom and adjusts his jeans, opening the car door and tossing the condom away into a nearby dumpster. 

The Night City air feels cool compared to the heat of the car after fucking, she watches him light up a cigarette outside of the car and grimaces. He climbs back into the driver's seat, keeping the window rolled down and she makes a gagging sound as the smoke hits her nose. 

“You coming back to the bar with me?” He asks, blowing smoke out of the window. 

“No,” she signs, thankful the choker translator can survive sweat, “I’ll catch the train back to Watson.” 

“Let strangers see you sweaty and fuck-dazed?” 

“Well, it’s a good look for me.” 

“Can’t really deny that, now can I.” 

She rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket getting out of the car, walking away on still slightly wobbly legs. V takes the train back to Watson, fiddling with her holophone the entire way. The merc gets off at the stop closest to her megabuilding and makes her way to her apartment; lock recognizing her on the first try. 

V checks the time and decides to get ready to go to The Afterlife. Those nerves she had managed to fuck away for a moment creep up on her all over again. She shakes her head not wanting to focus on her anxieties, she strips down and grabs a shower, cleaning off the sweat from her liaison. 

The merc pulls her hair back in a small low-set ponytail and does her makeup to the recommendations of the stylist. She gets dressed and uses the new camouflaged hearing aids, she takes her mask with her too. Though she knows she can’t wear it into Konpeki, she’ll still be walking into The Afterlife. That thought alone twists her guts into nervous knots. 

The Afterlife is the go to bar for the top of their game, Major Leagues mercs and fixers. It’s where the biggest deals are made, the easiest place to catch a drink and a job, but only mercs or fixers of a certain standard are allowed through its doors. Jackie brags about the place like it’s heaven for mercenaries. If they’re going to become regular fixtures of the bar after this, then she’d prefer to maintain her usual level of anonymity for fixers moving forward. She’ll drop the mask when they’re finally in corpo threads. 

V slides on Misty’s bracelet as well, fiddling with the beads meant to provide some form of protection. Her mind goes back to Misty’s tarot card reading, while she doesn’t put much weight on it, her friend’s fortune telling often sticks with her. The Wheel of Fortune is sticking out to her; she could care less if the cards thinks she’s stupid or if she’s about to fall in love, the latter of which so ridiculous she can’t help but dismiss it. But the idea of conflict sticks out, fear of the heist going wrong has been heavy on her mind. Something always goes slightly wrong, no job is perfect. But this has the highest stakes she’s ever encountered. 

V has new cyberware, the best possible tech and upgrades from Vik. She has Jackie, her best choom and partner in crime who’s never let her down. There’s T-Bug, her friend and brilliant netrunner who could bring half of Night City down if she wished. Their fixer is Dex, one of the best in regards to his job, he has everything to gain by having their backs covered. They have military grade tech and an inside look into Konpeki. They are going in under the best possible circumstances. 

She has to remind herself, review this again and again, that if something goes wrong someone there should be able to take care of it. But, those nerves don’t fade even as she leaves her apartment. 

The Afterlife isn’t far from V’s apartment, practically a hop and skip downtown. Barely five minutes pass before she’s under the roofed alley, nearing the club. Vivid cyan and purple graffiti across the wall, trash along the way.

“Porque ya tengo planes para esta noche!" 

The voice is familiar, Jackie’s and V pressed her back to the side of the vending machine, he’s telling someone he already has plans for tonight. He sounds frustrated, like he’s on the verge of pulling his hair out. 

“Virgen Santsima, ma! Te vas a enterar mañana,” a beat of silence, “también te quiero, ma."

The conversation ways on her, he’s talking to Senora Welles. Remembering Jake talking about her feelings, that the matriarch has been worrying herself half to death. And it sounds like Jackie has been on the receiving end of that worry for a while.  V pulls her mask on and rounds the corner past the vending machine, stepping in front of the main entrance of The Afterlife. Her friend standing in the doorway under the harsh green light. 

“Heh, about time, chica,” he greets, tucking his phone into his pocket, she catches the blue of Misty’s bracelet mingled with his usual gold ones. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Ehhh, y'know. She's worried about me - whatever. Can't help herself, y'know - checkin’ to see if I'm not rottin' in some dumpster… like most of the Welles boys. Been worse lately.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Started climbin' our way up. Got more an' more knives out there, waitin' to stab us in the back. Higher stakes, higher risk. She can see that.” 

“Look like you’re about to keel over.” V reaches out, touching the red blotches on his skin, stress and sweat inflaming his skin. 

“Years of merc work, and yet,  still sweat like a roasted pig when I talk to my ma. It's really startin' to wear on me. More tell her everythin's OK, more I feel like I'm straight-up lyin’.”

“Well, hopefully you had a nice date with Misty at least.” 

“Went about as well as talking to my ma right now,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “for two women who don’t get along, they sure agree when it comes to worrying about me.” 

“They worry because they love you, worse things in life than people giving a damn about you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t matter none. Not anymore, Afterlife, here we come, baby!” 

Jackie changes the topic and she can’t really blame him for it, rubbing his hands together and practically cheering in excitement. This is everything they’ve talked about, everything they’ve said they want. So, why does she still have a lump in her throat? 

“Afterlife… we’re really here.” 

“Does not get any higher, choom. And you know somethin' else? We fuckin' earned it, chica!” 

“No point in standing around then, is there?’ 

“Ready to get your cherry popped?” he laughs leading her into the club, “Yeeeah! Come on!”

“Little late for that one, Jack,” she teases as they make their way down the stairs, a pair of double doors opening up for them. A short step down into a small hallway with mercs and fixers alike talking under the green glow of a sign bearing the club’s name. 

“Place used to be a morgue - you believe that?”

“Really?” 

“I know, right? Way before our time, that. When proper burials were still a thing.”

They come to another set of doors, through the small window V can see the true club main room beyond them. But a man stands guarding them, around Jackie’s height and a similar bulky build. Cyberware indented along his jawline and nose. His face is stony, eyes sharp when Jackie and V stop before him, then he puts a large hand out in front of him. 

“And who might you clowns be?”

“Jackie and V,” the taller of the mercs says with a grin, “Dexter Deshawn is waitin’ on us.” 

The bouncer gives them a look and V is glad for her mask helping hide her emotions. His expression is dismissive, looking down on them, making her feel all at once that she has not earned her place in this club. A baby merc, new to the city, barely six months under her belt and she’s standing at the Afterlife. How the fuck did she get here? 

“Yo, Dex. Got two live ones sayin' they're here to see ya,” his optics glow as he calls Dex, “Yeah? All right, then. Says he needs a second or two. Go get yourselves drinks or somethin'.”

The doors open to a green and cyan lit club. Music louder as the barrier breaks away, people fill the room. Some sipping on alcohol and other’s puffing away on cigarettes; the smell of nicotine and booze wafting from the bar. 

“Way ahead o' you, viejo,” Jackie laughs and leads the way in. 

V follows him around the corner; the large bar coming into full view. It’s lit green, the same neon sign reading Afterlife at the top of it. A bartender in a blue button up slings drinks to the patrons. Floor to ceiling columns, like tubes, are places around the club each filled with water with a dancer twirling around inside with strategically place chrome clothing covering the most private parts of them. Everything is basked in that green neon light, despite being surrounded by mercs like her, she feels so completely out of place. 

Jackie marches proudly across the bar floor, stride confident and unwavering. 

“This is it… The heart o' Night City! That's it right there - beating. Hear it?” he proclaims as they pass by rows of half closed off booths, “Can you imagine? Susan Forrest, Boa Boa, maybe even Morgan Blackhand… All sat on those stools, fell asleep on that same bar.”

Jackie sits in one of the barstools, beaming and brimming with excitement. His eyes wide as he takes it all in, the place he’s dreamed of for all his years. V climbs into the seat next to him, placing an elbow on the bar, leaning her head onto her hand, as she shifts to face him. 

“Doubt that puts us in the same league as them,” V teases, Morgan Blackhand brought down Arasaka Tower. They’re stealing a biochip, hardly the same thing. 

“Oh, but we are. They just don't know it yet,” Jackie tells her with a wink and she can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“We-” 

V drops her hand when she realizes Jackie’s attention has gone elsewhere, an older woman walking past the two. She’s nothing unusual, older looking than most of the crowd here, sure but nothing immediately stands out to V. An older woman with long gray hair shaved on one side and a bright yellow cropped sweater, She marches her way across the bar and into a blue lit booth, moving past a guard.  

“'Ey. See that old lady there?”

“Yeah, didn’t know grannies were your type,” V taunts him again, he’s always given her shit for her taste in older people, yet he’s ogling some grandma? 

“Fuck off,” he playfully smacks her, but nearly knocks her from her chair, “that’s fuckin’ Rogue, best fixer in all o' Night City.” 

“Thought Dex was the best?” 

“Pff… Rogue was linin' up jobs when Dex was still shittin' in diapers, heh. Place belongs to her.”

“What can I getcha?” The bartender cuts in, hands down on the bar in front of them. She’s a woman with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a soft round face. 

V doesn’t drink on the job, something she’s always stuck to. But, this is Jackie’s dream and she knows how he likes to celebrate. If nothing else, their banter has failed to undo her nerves, maybe booze will do the trick. 

“You order,” she signs to Jackie and he grins. 

“You drinkin’?” 

“Special night, pick me something nice.” 

“Two Tequila Old Fashioneds with a splash of cerveza and a chili garnish.”

“A duo of Johnny Silverhands, comin' up,” the bartender starts to put the drinks together, “somebody did their homework.” 

“Guessing the dog ate mine,” V signs, confused because what the fuck is a silver hand?

“Age-old tradition. Drinks're named after our regulars,” she explains, putting the drinks down in front of the mercs. 

“What’d I have to do to get a drink named after me?” 

“Snuff it,” she grins, “ In mind-blowingly spectacular fashion, Mid-op'd be best.”

“Aah, what a beaut of a tradition!”

“Steep price for a drink, not going to lie,” V signs, letting her nerves speak for her, if only for a moment. Her guts are in knots, she can only hope the alcohol will untangle. All of the merc’s usual stress relieving tactics other than a weed brownie, have failed to do much of anything.

“Hey, everyone's gotta go sometime, right? Why not in style? Death’s nothing but the final flourish!” 

“To hitting the major leagues,” she signs, holding her shot in the other hand.

“To becoming legends.” 

She pushes her mask just up above her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick and  they throw back their shots. Smooth but strong booze with a kick of spice from the garnish, a burn in her throat. Not her style, but she’s had worse. She pushes her mask back down, regarding the bartender, her nametag says Claire. 

“So, who else can I drink here?” She still has no idea who Silverhand is, but maybe there’s a name she does recognize, reading the posted drink menu. 

“All on the menu…”  

“'Cept there's a spot missing. Morgan Blackhand, right?”

“Heh,  true. Morgan's yet to make up his mind he's dead or still kickin',” Claire tells Jackie and V rolls her eyes. 

“Think he’s still alive? It’s been years,” Jackie asks Claire. 

“No way he’s still alive,.” The radio was just talking about the devastation of the tower going down, if that many folks were killed who were just near it, then there’s no way someone who was in the tower survived. 

“Why not? Look at Rogue. Peeps from that era - a species unto themselves.”

“And one day we’re gonna be there too,” Jackie probably proclaims, “speaking of which, name’s Jackie Welles if you want to write down my recipe.” 

“Sure.” There’s a playfulness in her tone, just going along with Jackie’s whims. 

“Shot of vodka on the rocks, lime juice, ginger beer… oh, and most importantly - a splash of love.”

“Haha, I'll remember that.”

“Gag,” V signs just to see the glare Jackie levels her way, the playful smack of her arm. 

“Okay, what’s your drink then?” 

“Literally, the only thing I drink is like cherry cola with a splash of bourbon.” 

“You know those are usually supposed to be reversed, the bourbon and coke.” 

“Maybe so, but, and hear me out… cherry cola tastes better.”  

“Heard you were Dex’s latest finds,” Claire tells them. 

“Just biz, no big deal.”

“How'd you know?” V raises an eyebrow behind her mask. 

“My job to know. Look around - how do you think meres earn their reps? Through gossip rivaling that of schoolgirls, that's how.”

“Mr. DeShawn see you now,” a booming voice rings out behind the mercs, turning around she sees Dex’s bodyguard. The first time she’s heard his voice. 

“Love to hang, imbibe the vibe, but we got an important meeting,” Jackie tells Claire, getting up from his seat and V following suit, throwing some cash down on the bar. 

“Break a leg.” 

“This way,” the bodyguard tells them and the mercs falls in line behind him. He leads them around the bar, past the crowd and through a door towards the back of the club. The lighting shifting, more blue than green as they walk past another vending machine. 

“Damn, holmes, you're huge... Work out?” Jackie asks, unable to stand the silence. 

“Hmm.” A vague grunt as they pass through another door, the music fading as they get further from the main bar. But V can just hear the starting beat of some old dad rock, something about losing another day to pointless drudgery. 

“Same here, y'know, in the ring. You do some kinda exotic shit? Kempo? Ninjitsu?”

Nothing as they turn another corner. 

“Think you could take me, drop me?”

“Jackie…” Why must he sound like he’s picking a fight with the guy?

“In here,” the guard says, stopping and standing in front of another door. 

"Este pinche tipo..."

The door opens and they’re greeted to the first room with warm lighting, though it just seems to be a storage corner. With a cabinet and vending machine. But to the left are barely see through walls of a booth that takes up half the room, through them V can just see T-Bug’s outline and leather couches. 

They walk around, the front of the booth opened. A wrap around black leather couch goes around the back wall and left side of the booth. Dex sat on the back portion, talking into a holo about Excelsior and cold hard eddies. T-Bug sat to side, a table in the center of the room with the Flathead, Jinguji boxes, and shards placed on neat little index cards. There’s a small disconnect leather seat in the right corner, next to the door. 

“Gotta bounce,” Dex hangs up, “well, if it ain’t Miss V.” 

“Whole family in one place! Hah! Finally!”

“That’s one way to put it,” T-Bug teases and a shine of blue catches V’s eye, the netrunner wearing Misty’s bracelet. She can’t help but smile. 

“A’ight, then… Set your butts down comfy,” Dex tells them. Jackie plops himself onto the larger couch next to T-Bug, comfortably spreading his arms over the back of it while V takes the smaller seat, putting her at an angle to see everyone.  She stifles a laugh, seeing Jackie’s leg excitedly bounce up and down. 

“Sweet booth, is it soundproof?” 

“Jackie…” T-Bug scolds and V stifles a laugh. 

“Now, now, Mr. Welles is right. We gon' be goin' over some sensitive material. But if it's all right with y'all, I'd like to start with a question for Miss V… Evelyn Parker - how'd you fare?”

All eyes on her, stomach still twisted in a vise, this is her chance. She’s got to tell him, but she doesn’t want Evelyn hurt. Some fixers will go to any length to get revenge on a client or merc who does them dirty. But, he’s got a right to know the shit she pulled. 

“Intel was good, brain dance was exactly what we needed….” 

“So, she just wanna see wha'ss good, or was there somethin' else?”

“Honestly?” 

“Wouldn’t ask for anything else, Miss V.” 

“She’s high risk as far as clients go. Shady as fuck, naïve as all hell, and genuinely thought she could make me another offer.” 

“Another offer?” Dex’s brow raises about his sunglasses. 

“Wanted me to cut you out for more cash, told her no, of course. But, wouldn’t do business with her again, if I were you.” 

“Cut me out… shiiiit, now that’s rich,” Dex laughs, Jackie nervously laughing along, “Clients... never learn, do they?” 

“You’re not pissed?” 

“Lived in NC too long to blow my top every time some amateur thinks they can take me for a ride. Parker ain't the first and sure as hell won't be the last.”

“Fair enough,” V lets out a sigh, thankful if nothing else that Dex doesn’t seem prone to getting too mad at Evelyn. Maybe she’s being too kind, but she can’t help but think Evelyn is more naive than malicious when it comes to the offer. A stranger to the merc world. 

“I do appreciate you sharin' this info, though, Miss V. You see, trust… …is essential in any partnership that's to be long-lasting and fruitful.”

“Figured you had a right to know, so, what’s the plan?” 

“This.”

Dex gestures towards the shards on the table, V takes the one in front of her and slides it into her shard slot.  UI and graphics lighting up her mask, a map pulling up on the tech. 

“Me and Dex've already covered the fine detes. Ops wise, should be a stroll on the beach.”

“Elaborate, I wanna hear it.” 

“A Delamain'll drop your asses at the front door of Konpeki Plaza,” a picture of the hotel shows,  then two names, “You'll stroll right in thanks to your false identities. Then, with Bug's help, you'll breach the hotel's subnet…”

“Mine and the Flathead's help.” Images of the hotel’s interior and the bot flash by. 

“Last but not least, you slip into Yorinobu's penthouse and klep the Relic,” his words bring up images of the heir and his suite.

“Goes without sayin' we do this on the hush - ideally no bodies, not a one.” The shard shows them The Relic and then blips out. 

“You'll have T-Bug on comms for the duration. Time for your burnin' questions.”

“What’s our cover?” V asks, they’ve been told a thousand times they’ll be acting like corpos, but that’d be hard to do if they have no idea what their story is suppose to be. 

“Hello, Ramón Victorino,” T-Bug looks at Jackie and then to V, “and you’re Hannah Conwell.” 

“Ramón - yeah, OK. What do we say we're there for?”

“Biz as usual. Corpo arms deal. Case anyone asks, you there for a bogus meetin' with Arasaka's defense rep - Hajime Taki. Anything else?”

“How do we get in the penthouse?”

“Yorinobu's got barely any muscle. Hardest part'll be penthouse security. If we wanna disable, we'll need to neutralize Konpeki's dweller - elite ‘runner monitoring the hotel's subnet twenty-four seven. Only catch is there's no way to get in the dweller's den from the outside.”

“Hold on, how you want us to get inside a room you can't get into?”

“Trust me when I say whatever hitch you think up. T-Bug's solved it already”

“This is where the Flathead comes in. You'll have to get him in the ventilation shafts, guide him to the dweller and force the dweller to… take a break. Flathead'll stay there, jacked into the dweller, but thanks to that I’ll be able to roll out your red carpet into the penthouse.”

“Anything else?”

“Transports a Delamain?” She has no idea if the company has an ASL sign like most other corporations and doesn’t have time to think of one on the fly. 

“Preemest cab company in all Night City… Nada mal,” hackie tells her. 

“DeShawn don't ever work with anyone but the best. I consider Delamain just that.”

“Yeah, who needs creepy, nosy cab drivers when you've got a clean AI to get you from point A to point B in style?”

“And how he bags a permit to operate every year's still a mystery.”

“If everythin' goes as planned, Delamain'll drop you back here. If things get sticky, he'll head for the safe house.”

“Which is?”

“The No-Tell Motel. Quiet, no questions asked. Make our next move from there. But I'm flat certain that won't be necessary. Though, there is one more consideration for if it does.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Hate to put you on the spot, Miss V,” Dex explains, “but if shit goes sour, I’m gonna need to know who I’m letting into the hotel. Mask can’t go with to Konpeki, so I’d sure feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what was hiding behind that thing.” 

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense.”  

Even if she’d have Jackie with her when shit goes down,  Dex is trusting her with this heist. The least she can do is trust him to see her face and not write her off or sell her out to The Herd if the chance arised. Not that she can see that happening anyway… 

“Don’t even know why you wore the thing in, V,” Jackie teases. 

“Well, there are other fixers here, didn’t want to give away my face…” 

V carefully pulls off her mask, feeling exposed all over again, a new set of eyes on her face. The merc knows how she looks; five feet with a head of bleach blonde hair and big gray eyes. Not the picture one conjures in their mind when they think of a capable, strong, badass merc. Sprinkle in her disability and the reactions to her deafness; most people think she’s not a threat, weak. 

“That what you’ve been hiding behind that mask? All that fuss, for what?” Dex laughs. 

“Hard to take,” she stumbles over her English trying to sign at the same time, “be taken- seriously sometimes when you’re five foot nothing, deaf, and look like…” 

“Gutterpunk Barbie,” Jackie cuts in to tease, earning him a sharp kick to the shin. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Trust me, Miss V, you pull off this job; ain’t nobody in their right mind gonna underestimate you” 

“That’s the hope...”

“Any other questions?” 

“I got a question. When do we get to the real reason we're all here?” Jackie asks, shooting a wink V’s way. 

“Now's a good a time as any. Fresh talent gets thirty percent always, but I'm willin' to make an exception in your case. I'ma cut you a nice, juicy forty as a bonus for your honesty, V.”

“Much appreciated.” 

“Ka-ching baby!~” 

“Last thing, Konpeki's got a strict no-iron policy. Security gates, the works. So you dawgs'll leave your lead-spitters in the ride, take the Flathead inside in its case.”

“Got your suits from Jinguji on the table.” 

“¡Chido!”

“Thanks, Bug.” 

“So, not to count chickens, but when'll we see our eddies?”

“All depends how Ms. Parker unrolls herself or her role, but a week, two tops is my guess.”

“And what do we do in the mean time?” 

“You sit tight, heads down, 'cause ol' uncle Arasaka be watching. Now, as that ol’ Greek dawg says, life's a banquet - so don't go thirsty, but don't get drunk, either,” he tells them as he leaves the booth, “Your chariot awaits outside.”

“My cue to delta, too. Gotta prep to jack in, be there when you come on comms. Any other issues, now's your chance,” T-Bug tells them, shifting her feet and something catches V’s eye. Delta V emblazoned on the netrunner’s boots, was that there before?

“Plan - your take?” V shakes the thought from her head, must be a brand or a runner thing V doesn’t know.

“Enough, I hope, to put me in a luxury Creton Villa from which I'll never set foot in cyberspace again.”

“Send me a postcard?” 

“No offense, but I'm gonna burn any and all bridges - need a clean break.”

“Gonna take Misty’s bracelet with you?” Jackie teases, grinning because he caught it too. 

“Shut up,” she tells him, rolling her eyes. 

“Uh, just realized something, what’s gonna happen to our clothes? I don’t want to lose my mask…” 

“No worries, put them in the boxes, we’ll have ‘em sent back to your places.” 

“Alright then, lets get this show on the road.” 

“Let's get to work, go ahead and get changed, Delamain is parked out front, uh, okay-”Bug starts to trip over her words when the two mercs start taking off their jackets, “you can use the bathrooms.” 

“Eh,”

Jackie and V shrug their shoulders, the outfits are right there. Not much point in dragging them out to the bathroom. The pair shared a bedroom for the better half of six months, a room with one bed. They’ve seen each other naked plenty, boundaries destroyed a long while back. 

“Why do I bother,” T-Bug rolls her eyes and leaves the booth, letting the pair change. 

V kicks off her boots and takes off her socks, Jackie tugging off his jewelry first. 

“So, you’re nerves still going crazy?” Jackie asks her as she tugs off her shirt, his own tossed off. 

“What do you mean?”  She tugs off her pants, both mercs soon standing around in their underwear. 

“Can’t hide that shit from me, chica, been giving me twice as much hell as usual. You’re freaking out.” 

“High stakes, Jack, of course I’m a nervous mess. Means I give a shit.” 

She pulls the slack on and tugs on the white blouse, buttoning it up. The two of them putting on the corpo clothes, similar in look. Black slacks, white button up tops, black suit jackets, and Misty’s beaded bracelets for protection. Each perfectly tailored for their body types. 

“Don’t sweat it so much, V, we got this.” He sticks his fist out. 

“Sure fuckin’ hope so.” She bumps her fist to his. 

Their street clothes are packed away in the boxes, V puts in her optic contacts and slide on her heels, then they start to make their way out of the booth. But, Jackie stops her with a hand on her shoulder and he taps his throat. She catches on taking off her choker translator, neck feeling bare and odd without the tech. With that they leave out through the club, Jackie carrying the Flathead case and the smaller merc keeps her head down as best she can. Her stomach still in knots as they spot the Delamain in the parking lot. 

Her life is about to change forever; hopefully for the best. She’s on the cusp of having everything she’s wanted since she’s come to the city. The verge of earning the respect of everyone in this city and finally feeling like she’s someone, like she’s done something. 

So, why does she feel like she’s about to puke?

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy (2)

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary (lite): You literally fall for a guy you meet in a bar, and everything is going great until you learn both of you have been lying about who you are and what you do. Oof. (SpecOps&Spies AU with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Wow part one got a lot of love, thank you so much! And now I also have a taglist going for this fic, so let me know if you want to be tagged the next time I post. This chapter is basically just fluff with a bit of background plot,,, i’ve created both a slow burn, and a 100 metre sprint of a relationship for y’all, so be prepared for that. Depending on what I manage to get into the next chapter, aka if i can finish the story or if i wimp out, there will either be 3 or 4 chapters total, and if i like the universe enough I might have some bonus content in the future. Nothing is set in stone so don’t start counting your chickens yet, but like... maybe. Anyways, I hope you enjoy part 2 of Let Me Have Nice Things I Spy <3

PS it is 3:45am when I’m posting this, please forgive me if its actually just weird thnxxxx

[AO3A][Masterlist]

[Previous Part]

---

“Water with a wedge of lemon, please,” you ordered as you and Frankie claimed a bar stool each at the counter.

“And a coke for me, thank you.”

The drink offer was always a toss up for you; a good way to measure the type of guy interested in your company. Even if you hadn’t decided that you were done with the alcohol tonight, you would still have ordered a water on your date’s dime. It was a simple test of character that more than a few guys had failed in the past. Were they looking to get you drunk, or were they willing to respect your choices? Frankie, so far, had done nothing but respect you.

Your drinks arrive quickly, and the cool glass feels refreshing in your hands. You still feel warm from your brief contact with the handsome man beside you, but after peaking at him from the side of your eyes, you can see that his ears and cheeks also have some red to them as well.

Frankie accepts his glass and angles himself towards you, bumping his knee lightly to yours and offering you another sweet smile. “Would it be presumptuous of me to offer a cheers? To meeting new people? Or I’ve got some great, really catchy and not at all cheesy pick-up lines, if that’s more your style?”

You snorted a laugh at his teasing but held out your drink for him to clink his against, “To meeting new people, then. And please, I have extremely high standards so only your best lines will appease me.”

“Ah, a connoisseur! Well then, please prepare to be amazed,” Frankie swivelled around to fully face you, ran a hand through his hair, fluffing his curls and pushing them away from his face, and cleared his throat for dramatic effect. “You blinded me with your beauty, so I’m going to need your name and number for insurance purposes.”

Your plan was to hold out, not to crack against whatever corny, horribly cliché thing he was going to say to you. You’d been given them all, and had never had much trouble before, even with guys as attractive and cute as Frankie. You had a great poker face, and could keep yourself together like a pro. There was nothing he could say to you that would break your façade. And then he opened his mouth, and you were gone.

“Oh my god! That’s so bad!” You were shaking, gasping while trying to contain and smother your laughter. You hadn’t thought to put your drink down before he started, and you could feel the liquid sloshing around the glass in your hand. Frankie, thankfully, noticed your problem, and gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist to steady your grasp. He helped you set the drink down safely, before pulling your still jittering limb away from further potential accidents. And then, he just didn’t release you.

He had slipped his hand into yours and was running his thumb over your knuckles.

As if your cheeks weren’t warm enough already.

What is it with this guy? You just couldn’t catch a break.

“Okay?” Can I keep holding your hand?

“Yes,” Please don’t let me go.

---

“And so, we’re just, like, full-tilt sprinting to catch this last train. And of course, its raining cats and dogs, so the sidewalk is slippery as hell, and Santi’s down a shoe so he’s splashing around in his sock, and then we hit the stairs up to the platform, and the train is pulling out…” You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so much but listening to Frankie’s stories about his friends and their misadventures was making your cheeks ache.

You had been trading stories for ages, back and forth and jumping all over your lives to tell each other your greatest hits. Something between you two had just clicked, and it felt like you’d known him forever.

Early in the conversation you’d discovered he was his buddies’ designated driver, and would be on non-alcoholic beverages all night, but offered you anything you would like if you wanted more than water. You’d of course thanked him, but refused, stating your own reasons for sobriety. And that’s the point you got into talking about your careers.

“The guys wanted to get wasted during shore leave, and I’m not big on drinking so I offered to be their ride this time.” He was rather adorably touchy-feely with you, currently playing with your fingers and drawing on your palm absentmindedly.

“Shore leave? So, you’re military then?” That would explain the callouses and healed scars on his hands that you’d also been acquainting yourself with.

“Army, yeah,” Frankie had pointed out his group of hooligans across the room, playing what he’d told you was ‘Extreme Darts’. “Me and Santi were best friends in high school and enlisted together, and then we met Will and Benny in basic training. We worked together well enough to get us assigned to Tom’s squad and the rest’s history.”

“Then you’re still on active duty, right?” You couldn’t say you knew much about how a military contract worked, beyond what you’d seen in movies and on TV, but you knew soldiers were required to do a certain amount of service before they could retire; baring career-ending events that would get them discharged, of course. “When does shore leave end?”

“Ah, that’s a little complicated to explain, actually. We’re technically active soldiers still, but after our last deployment ended, we signed back on as like, uh, contractors. Sort of like on-base reservists? We help out where we can but don’t really see much in-field work, you know?” He was definitely struggling to describe his job to you, and you could imagine there was a lot of red tape and confidentiality around anything military he was doing, so you just nodded along and let him drop it. “But we still have a couple weeks stateside before we ship back out.”

You hummed at that, thinking over your own known schedule. “I can’t say I’ll have much time off before you need to leave, but I would like to see more of you, if you’re agreeable?” There was something special about this guy, and whether you were just friends or something more eventually, you didn’t want to waste your opportunity to have him in your life. Long distance anything was a lot of work, but you wanted him to know you were willing to try if he was.

“Do you like raisins? How would you feel about a date?”

---

That was how your unconventional romance with Frankie Morales started. You’d talked all night, and when the bartender kicked you and your groups out at closing time, he and his friends helped get your girls into their cabs. And once they were all taken care of, he had offered you his arm and walked you to your car like a proper, posh gentleman.

“Goodnight, paloma, thank you for such a wonderful evening.”

You had given him your business card, personal phone number and a flirty call me xx written on the back, and he in turn lifted your hand to brush a delicate kiss to your knuckles with a teasing wink. You went home that night mildly concerned you’d spontaneously combust from the heat blazing through your body. That man was a menace, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

He had called the next evening, and from there you spent as much time as you could together. Coffee dates, dinner and movie nights, even a walk in the park like some fairy-tale couple; he always greeted you with a bad pick-up line to make you smile, and a left you with a kiss on the hand at the end of your outings.

It was three wonderful but short weeks later that he got his ship-out date.

You were back at the dive bar where it all started, your friend (and some of her friends) and his all together again, to celebrate their last night of leave. The bar had unofficially become your ‘spot’, and you’d visited a few more times over the weeks, both as private dates and as group activities to get to know the rest of his squad.

It was bittersweet, saying goodbye to your new friends and your, well, Frankie. You had both agreed not to put labels or promises into your relationship until you were sure, and you were fine with that in the beginning when you were still strangers just interested in spending time together. But now you knew him, now you had feelings to back up your attraction to him, and now, he was leaving for who knows how long and you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you.

He must have noticed something was upsetting you, because he excused himself from his buddies’ conversation and held out a hand to help you up out of your chair.

“Join me for some fresh air, hermosa?” He was as courteous as ever as he led you outside into the chilled night, offering you his jacket and his side to cuddle into when you shivered. He was good at reading you by now and could tell when you wanted to work up to saying something without prompting, so he stayed silent and let you organize your thoughts.

You were struggling with your plan, with what you wanted to say to him, ask of him. He was rubbing your shoulder and you reached up to lace your fingers together, remembering the first time you held hands here at the bar…

Please don’t let me go.

That was your answer then, and it was still your answer now. You wanted him to keep holding your hand, now and for however much longer he could. You just needed to tell him that. Easy peasy. And because he’d made a sentimental dork out of you with his unending lines, you couldn’t think of a better way to confess to him. You looked up and met his eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in them.

“I must be a snowflake, because I’ve fallen for you.”

He untangled your fingers from his, pulling his arm away from where it was draped warmly over your shoulders, and took a step back to face you head on.

Oh gods, you wanted to rewind time and stop yourself from opening your big mouth, I’ve ruined it all.

Frankie snagged both of your wrists in his hands, startling you out of your downwards spiral as he tugged you close to his chest. He was staring down at you, brows furrowed and lips pursed seriously. Your hands were pressed between you, resting against his sternum over his steadily beating heart.

“Feel my shirt. It’s made of boyfriend material.”

And then you were both gone, laughing so hard you had tears in your eyes and grins splitting your faces as you held each other close.

You hadn’t ruined anything after all; you could cry you were so relieved.

Once you’d both managed to settle down, he leaned in and rested his forehead against yours, his own shiny eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I’m a terribly selfish man to ask this of you, but would you wait for me? Will you give us a chance? Exclusively?”

“Yes.”

Your first kiss together was there, on that cold night outside the bar where everything changed. It was soft and sweet, and you couldn’t wait for more.

---

Taglist:

@playbucky​

[iam93percentstardust]

Fill for @tonystarkbingo Please don’t tag as ship!

Title of Fill: Falling with Style Collaborator: iam93percentstardust Card Number: 4012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27434965 Square Filled: K3 - Flying Ship/Main Pairing: Tony & Rhodey Rating: G Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Avengers (2012) compliant, Gen Fic Summary: When Tony was a little boy, his favorite thing to do was go to the airport so he could watch the planes take off. Word Count: 839

When Tony was a little boy, his favorite thing to do was go to the airport so he could watch the planes take off. Back then, Jarvis was the one who took him. Howard certainly never would have and Maria could scarcely be bothered to remember that she had a son most days. But Jarvis - despite all of the many things he had to do to keep the mansion running - he always found time to take a young boy to the airport.

"One day," Tony would tell him. "I'm going to fly in one of those."

And Jarvis would always chuckle. "I'm sure you will, Master Anthony."

Tony never quite understood why Jarvis would laugh at that, not until years later, long after Howard had dragged him on his first business trip to meet their investors in Japan, long after Howard and Maria and Jarvis were all gone and Tony was alone, not until Obie looked at him after a month's worth of planes and hotels and business meetings and said, "You've got another plane to catch at first light tomorrow. Try not to miss it this time." That's when he finally understood: the life of a Stark was not one that was tied to the ground. Stark men might be made of iron but so too was stardust and Tony was destined to soar amongst the stars.

~

Tony loved flight. He loved the feeling of freedom in the open air, the marvel of engineering that was airplanes, that brief feeling of weightlessness when he pushed his planes past their limits. On top of the military contracts and the crops and everything else that Stark Industries had a hand in, Tony developed planes - experimental, of course. The things he was doing with his planes pushed the limits of modern physics and he would never risk anyone other than himself to fly them.

He thought maybe that was why he got along so well with Rhodey. Rhodey, who knew what it meant to have your eyes turned skyward. Rhodey, who knew why he never let anyone fly his planes and never complained. Rhodey, who flew combat mission after combat mission, always dreading the moment when he had to come back down.

~

"Why do you need to fly?" Yinsen asked him once.

"Because I can," Tony said and he thought, when Yinsen gave him a small smile, that maybe he understood.

~

The suit wasn't like his planes. It was designed for anyone to be able to fly, whether that was Rhodey or Pepper or even Happy, though he knew that only a few would ever have the strength and mental power to do it. The suit required the wearer to be able to read a thousand things going across the HUD at a time, read and act on it in the blink of an eye. Most people, he knew, would crash before they trained their brain to understood all that input. And that, he knew, was what made him Iron Man, not the money or the ego or anything else Rogers accused him of. He flew the Iron Man suit because he had the raw will to get him off the ground and into the sky where he belonged.

But Rogers had an opinion of him already, just like most people did, and it suited his purposes not to let on that he was anything other than what people saw him as. So when he was asked what he was beneath the suit, he didn't say that he was the man who built the suit or even the one who flew it. He just said flippantly, "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist."

And when Romanoff tilted her head in agreement, he knew it was the right thing to say.

~

Rhodey was the one who found him once it was all over. His wonderful Honeybear, who was still the only person he'd ever met who understood his need for flight.

Flight.

He wasn't so sure he'd ever be able to take to the skies again, not now that he knew what was out there.

"No one's seen Iron Man since the battle," Rhodey said. "People are starting to get worried."

Tony didn't know what to say. He'd never had to admit something was wrong like this before. He hadn't told Rhodey he was dying two years ago and Romanoff had told Pepper for him. And now, when it something as important to him as flying, he didn't know how to admit that he could barely even look at the armor without the walls closing in around him.

"Hey, Tones," Rhodey said softly, nudging Tony's shoulder with his. "You're not alone."

~

When Rogers came back to the tower after his trip around the country and offered him a place in the Avengers, Tony looked at the two gleaming suits in their cases, one red and gold, the other a bright silver that reminded him of the stars.

He looked back at Rogers and said, "On one condition: Rhodey comes with me. I don't fly alone."

[julemmaes]

Pinky Promise - Prologue

A/N: Here it is, finally! I know you all have waited literally less than 24 hours for this, but still:) Like I said yesterday, this is mainly Nessian, but considering it’s a multichapter fic it’ll have others couples too, obviously. Some might not be your favorites and the beginning of the fic is kinda tough for this reason, but I hope it’s worth waiting. + I don’t know if any of you read Crescent City, but if you did, expect this first part to be like the first hundred pages of the book, it’s just info-dump. I’ll leave you to the chapter now.

Uh and p.s. thanks to all of you who commented and started following me. I feel loved tbh, I appreciate each and every one of you darlings

Fic Masterlist

Word count: 3,938

Nesta had just stepped outside the classroom when a cramp slightly more painful than the others made her hold her breath. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, apologizing to one of the girls who was attending the course with her when she bumped into Nesta, waiting for the pain to end and for her to continue walking without feeling as if her stomach were opening up from the inside. She took three deep breaths and walked towards the exit.

Cassian should have been out by now and if he wasn't there Nesta would have made him pay for it. He knew she had her period and he knew she hated waiting, so it would be wise of him to be on the street as soon as she reached the gates.

She huffed, rubbing her hand over her face, and squinted when she saw her boyfriend's green military Jeep parked just outside the university gardens. She lowered her head, clutching her jacket and protecting herself from the winter cold of Velaris. She speeded past when lightning struck the sky and found herself in the parking lot.

Azriel and Cassian were talking animatedly about something, probably sport, Nesta thought, seeing how they were both excited and by the gestures they made, but as soon as Cassian saw her, his face lit up and he smiled at her, interrupting whatever he was doing. He went up to her, "Hi sweetheart." He put his hands on her face and pulled her towards him, kissing her before Nesta could return the greeting. She closed her eyes, keeping her hands in her pocket but rejoicing at that touch. When Cassian broke away looking at her with that cocky smile on his face, Nesta had her eyes closed and her forehead wrinkled.

Cassian frowned, "What is it?" he asked her, taking the bag from her shoulder and turning towards the trunk. Normally she wouldn't let him take the bag, she could do it very well on her own, but she was too tired and sore to even bicker over these little things. Cassian must have noticed it too, because looking at Azriel on the other side of the car he made him understand that he wanted to talk to her for a moment. The older waved to Nesta and she barely had time to give him a small smile before he disappeared in the back of the car.

She looked up just in time to see Cassian approaching again as he wrapped her in his arms, holding her to his chest. This time she took her hands out of her pockets to hug him in turn. She heard him take a deep breath, "Rough day?" he murmured in her hair, where he left a kiss a few seconds later. Nesta nodded, muttering something in his chest. "Hmm," he said looking at her with distrustful eyes, "Can you hold on for a few more minutes before I take you home or?"

Nesta broke away, walking toward the passenger seat, Cassian had already got in and was starting the car when she sat down and her feet cried out in relief that she no longer had to stand. "Why? Do you have to pick up Rhysand?"

She heard Azriel snort, "When are you going to start calling him Rhys?"

Nesta turned just enough to show the determined expression on her face. "When those two stupid siblings of ours decide to cut the bullshit and get together."

"Touché."

Cassian turned left. "Yes, his car is at the mechanic's and with the bus strike he doesn't know how to come back." he answered her initial question. He glanced at her sideways when she yawned, resting her head on the window. "But if you're too tired I can drop you off and then go get him."

"Nono, don't worry. It's okay." Nesta murmured, remembering something else, "I should also stop by Elain's store to pick up some things, if you don't mind..." she grunted in pain when another cramp twisted her stomach. Azriel leaned forward between the two seats, "Are you alright?"

Cassian shook his head, "I'm taking you home. We'll stop by Ellie's, don't worry."

"I said it's okay, I can handle it." she gave him a withering look and when he put the blinker on to turn right, towards her apartment, she moved to remove it.

Cassian was about to retaliate and say that she shouldn't touch the steering wheel when he's driving, but Azriel interfered before they could start arguing.

"There's no problem, we can go to Elain's and take everything," he said in a calm and gentle tone. This only made Nesta angrier, who turned to Azriel with a murderous look. "I said I can handle it, stop treating me as if I were on the verge of death".

Her boyfriend puffed, changing gears. "You're not on the verge of death and I'm sure you could survive an extra hour or so, but don't you think going home and taking a hot shower and relaxing is better than having to stay out here in the cold with the three of us?" he gave her a sly smile when he saw Nesta stiffening up to the idea of a hot bath. "Think carefully before you answer."

Nesta whispered a "fine" under her breath and a few minutes later Cassian was approaching the Archeron apartment. She got out and took her things, before leaning into the car and leaving a peck on Cassian's lips.

Her boyfriend gave her a soft smile, before raising his hand and pulling up only his right pinky. Nesta shook her head chuckling, intertwining her pinky with his.

"See you in a little while, sweetheart." Nesta nodded, caressing his arm.

"Bye babe, bye Az." she couldn't stop herself before realizing they had company. She wasn't used to being so numb with pain and it never happened that she called Cassian babe in front of other people, much less their family.

Azriel's eyes opened wide. "Babe? That's new." he got out of the car to get into the front seat and Cassian punched him in the shoulder. "Fuck off Az- take care." he said finally turning to Nesta, before rushing to the elementary school where Rhysand worked.

Opening the door of the building she remembered something important. She cursed under her breath and rumbled in her purse looking for her cell phone as she entered the elevator. She quickly dialed Elain's number and only after two rings did her sister answer:

"Hey Nesta!" she seemed as happy as ever, "What's up?"

"Cassian and Azriel should come by to pick up the package that arrived yesterday, under no circumstances should Cassian see the sender so can you please tear out any evidence on the box?" she heard muffled noises and then Elain said goodbye to a customer. "Sorry to interrupt you while you're working, but it's really important."

"Uh, don't worry, it's pretty calm today." she said cheerfully. "Is it the book?"

Nesta nodded, opening the door to the appartment, realizing later that her sister couldn't see her, "Yes, it's the book and it would be better if he didn't shake the box too much, I have the feeling that that thing is twelve thousand years old and could disintegrate at any moment." Elain giggled.

"Sure, I'll erase every address and name, I've got this."

"Thank you."

They talked a little bit more about what they were going to do that night and after another five minutes on the phone Nesta was finally alone and at peace in the quiet of her room while taking off her skinny jeans and sweaty t-shirt and getting ready for a hot bath.

As soon as she was immersed in the water, with bubbles bursting around her ears and a glass of red wine in one hand, she started thinking about how she was going to ask Cassian to move in together.

They had met in high school, when her family had moved in after her mother's death. It had taken her months before she started talking to anyone at school and one day, because of something that had happened with Feyre, she arrived late and the only free seat had been next to Azriel. She liked him right away, he was quiet and never asked her anything, not even what her name was, but they exchanged that embarrassed smile between friends-not-friends when they met in the hallway. Cassian had never really spoke to her either, but she knew that he was Azriel's friend and he usually joined them when they studied together during the breaks.

I wasn’t long before they all became great friends.

One day, during the second year, Azriel told her that there would be a party and that if she wanted she could come. Nesta had obviously refused.

With the economic condition they were in, it was already a lot if they could buy a new pair of shoes for Feyre every year, who was still growing up, and she certainly wouldn't know what to wear.

Azriel hadn't given up, however, and invited her to whatever party he went to, not as if they were dating, but as a friend would have done. Little by little they began to go out together. Relatively calm things: movies, dinners at the various fast food restaurants Velaris offered and sometimes they went for hikes in the mountains with Rhysand, who had just started high school. Most of the time Cassian would go with them, especially during the study sessions, but instead of studying he acted as a disturber and it took Nesta a long time before she realized how much she really liked that character.

How good he was inside and the things he would do for those he loved. He was to be admired, a boy so young, who had lost as much as she had, if not more, but who faced everyday life with that silly smile on his face.

During the middle of the fourth year, Azriel stood her up at the last minute because something had happened with Rhysand, and he had to run to help. Cassian, who was already with her that day, decided to stay, thinking Azriel was more than capable of helping Rhysand on his own, and invited her to eat something. Nothing serious, a dinner between friends. While they were about to pay, at the end of the evening, Nesta received a call from the hospital.

Her father had had a heart attack and died.

It had been Feyre who had found him coming back from an evening out with Elain, only 13 years old, as she had found their mother's body almost five years earlier. Nesta had panicked and the only thing that hadn't completely driven her insane that night was Cassian's presence.

He took her to the hospital and stayed with her every step of the way, every procedure, every signature and every document.

Both he and Azriel helped the sisters throughout the long custody trial of Elain and Feyre and they were there when Nesta became the legal tutor of the two minors when she turned 18. Even Rhysand, although he was only 16 at the time and couldn't help much, was very close to the Archeron family.

It was only after spending almost a year trying to find a way to continue living with the weight on her shoulders that she realized that without Cassian she would’ve never been able to get through something like this.

Nesta had started working immediately after the death of her father, continuing her studies anyway, and very often Cassian acted as her driver, taking her from one place to another. He also gifted her with many movie nights and occasionally went shopping for her and her sisters.

She knew he was doing this because he understood what it was like to not have enough food in the house to feed the rest of the family.

She had known for a long time that the boy was lost in her: she saw it in the way he looked at her, in the way he protected her every time Tomas passed by, knowing exactly what had happened during the third year, she knew it from the way he presented her to others, as a strong and independent woman, proud to be his friend. And yet, although they both knew about the strong feelings between the two of them, no one ever acted on it.

They danced in this limbo between friendship and love and when one day Cassian brought a girl home, Nesta exploded. For hours, they were at each other's throats, screaming things they didn't really mean, driven by anger towards the other but also towards themselves.

They got together immediately afterwards.

They did not need a trial period to see if it would ruin what they already had. It would never happen and they knew it too well. Nothing could've broken that bubble of theirs. Nothing.

They had been together for six years now and the only reason they still didn't live together was that Nesta didn't want to leave Feyre alone while she was still studying. She was going to let Feyre get her degree and find a steady job to support her before she moved out so that her little sister could focus on studying. But now it was only a few months away, and then they would both be free from college. Feyre would get her painting degree and Nesta would finish her master's degree in aerospace engineering, quit that stupid job as a salesgirl and find a job in one of Prythian Space Agency's research labs.

And above all, Nesta couldn't wait to finally go live with the love of her life.

***

Cassian had just parked in front of Rhysand's school when the sky split apart and the rain started coming down like it was the apocalypse day. He squeezed the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white and leaned his head on the horn, making Azriel jump next to him. He closed his eyes sighing.

"You haven't told her yet, have you?" his brother whispered, as if he were almost afraid to ask.

Cassian laughed, but there was no trace of amusement in that sound. He turned his head toward Azriel just in time to see Rhysand swoop into the back seat, completely soaked from head to toe, with a shocked expression on his face.

Azriel waved and Rhysand sat down better, closing the door with force. "Hello beautiful," he said with his charmer act. "What have you got for me? How were your days?"

Azriel waited to answer, wanting to know first what Cassian was going to do with all the shit he was in. Rhysand must have realized what the atmosphere was because the smile died on his lips and he leaned forward, "What were you talking about before I arrived?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice. Cassian looked over his shoulder and sighed again, this time more loudly.

"The bigass elephant in mine and Nesta's room."

"Uh-oh." said Rhys.

"Yeah, uh-oh."

"Haven't you told her yet?" asked the youngest.

Cassian shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the road and contracting his jaw, "We're still together, or not? So I'd say no, I haven't told her."

Azriel scratched his cheek, avoiding looking directly at him. "When are you going to do it?"

"I was thinking of doing it tonight, after dinner, but seeing that she's not doing so well, I guess I'll have to take a rain check." he turned into the street of Elain's store.

"Don't you think it's risky?" Azriel continued to ask. "I don't say the thing itself, but waiting so long to tell her. We all know Nesta, she’ll need a lot of time to accept it. You can't just drop the bomb and then run away."

In other circumstances he would have laughed at that rough joke, but he wasn't in the mood at all. The fact that he would have left Nesta to enlist and probably go and drop bombs in war territories was not a prospect he particularly liked.

"I'll find a way to do it without breaking her heart and give her time to accept it, don't worry".

"Wait," Rhys stopped him. He turned off the car directly in front of the flower shop and saw Azriel turn toward the entrance with a lost smile on his lips. Cassian scoffed, shifting his gaze in front of him again.

The Archeron sisters and their fucking perfect personalities.

"Are you going to break up with Nesta?" concluded Rhysand looking at him through the rearview mirror with a serious look.

Cassian turned around with a bewildered expression on his face, "God, no! What's wrong with you?" Azriel had also recovered from his short circuit called Elain and looked at the two brothers with his mouth slightly wide open.

Rhys raised his hands in defense, "Sorry, I misunderstood."

Cassian could hardly believe that Rhysand had thought such a thing. They remained silent watching the raindrops hit the glass when someone knocked hard on Azriel's window and all three of them jerked in fear. The figure outside the car moved and opened Rhysand's door as they got in.

“Hey guys.” Elain had a radiant smile on her face and seemed to be illuminated with her own light. Azriel had turned around so quickly on the seat that Cassian wondered how he hadn't broken his neck or pelvis. Rhysand leaned forward to give her a quick hug.

It didn't take Elain more than three seconds to realize that something was wrong, "Are you alright?" she asked worried, putting her hand on Azriel's seat. "You have such long faces," she said.

Rhys burst out laughing, "We're fine, don't worry."

Elain smiled at him, "Okay perfect, because Nesta and I have planned a pretty good night and when, not if, you get drunk I wouldn't want to have to comfort you because you're sad."

Cassian turned around at that point, with a lopsided smile, so that she wouldn't doubt their moods. "I like this idea."

"Good." said Elain with a smile on her face. She pointed to the store behind her and gestured with one hand, "I could use a strong pair of arms to take out some boxes for Feyre and Nesta and some vases. They're not big, but they weigh more than me and it's pouring down, I wouldn't want to trip and die because of the cyclamens."

Before anyone else could answer Azriel was already outside the car and inside the store.

Cassian and Rhysand laughed as Elain blushed. She got out of the car following their brother.

"Holy moly, those two are crushing so bad," whispered Rhys as he looked toward the entrance.

Cassian opened his eyes wide, bursting out laughing. The younger brother turned to him, confused. "What are you laughing at?

"Nothing at all.” Cassian ran his hand over his eyes, actually smiling, "I'm just thinking about how stupid you and Az are."

Rhys looked at him badly in the mirror, "We're not stupid." then he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the seat and looking up. "You know very well why neither of us has been able to take a step forward yet," he paused briefly, "At least I, am not going to do anything until she decides to leave Tamlin willingly."

Cassian nodded with a serious expression this time, knowing exactly how the conversation would continue if he answered verbally. They talked about Feyre so often, about her relationship with Tamlin, that Cassian seemed to have learned a script to recite every time.

He looked out the window, watching Azriel laughing with Elain. Probably the brother in the worst situation was him.

Elain and Lucien had been together forever. Cassian had met little Ellie when she was still only 14 years old and they had been together for a year already. It was a special relationship, theirs.

When they had started the second year of high school they had decided to break up after almost four years, considering it the best thing to do. After all, theirs was what you might call a childish love. They had been apart for a few months, but when the girls' father had died, Lucien and Tamlin had been very supportive of the younger sisters. More than everyone in their group liked to admit.

Cassian and Azriel had already met all three sisters when the misfortune happened and it didn't take Rhysand long to build a solid relationship with both of the younger two.

When Elain announced that they were back together, Azriel realized that it affected him far more than necessary. By now he had been stuck in his role as the world's “bestest” friend - as Elain liked to call him - for seven years.

He had had other girlfriends over time, but never anything serious and none of them had ever managed to make him really fall in love. It was also very complicated to describe the kind of relationship those two had. Lucien was always ready to pull him into the middle of their quarrels and Elain systematically went to Azriel crying, telling him that Lucien did not understand that their relationship was much more like that of two siblings.

The first time Azriel had spoken to Cassian about it, almost two years after Mr. Archeron's death, he had burst out laughing. His brother had remained silent for years in the friendzone while Cassian lived his best life with Nesta.

When it came to Rhysand and Feyre it was a whole different story.

When they met, Feyre was already very close to Tamlin. Hanging out only with her older sister and her boyfriend, it seemed natural that she and Tamlin would end up together, but Rhysand was still shocked when one day she came home, during her fourth year of high school, followed by him, and reintroduced him to everyone as her boyfriend.

The thing that no one could understand was how they could still be together after all these years.

Cassian knew from Nesta and Rhysand that the first years of their relationship were all peaches and cream. They seemed like the perfect couple. Tamlin's family had also helped Feyre with her college tuition, getting her into the Academy of Fine Arts supervised by one of his father's many friends.

They had been together for five years now and the only thing everyone was sure of was that when an Archeron sister gave her heart to someone, she would never ask for it back.

Cassian knew how much the overall situation weighed on both his brothers, but you can't control your heart and he couldn't advise anything else but to wait.

Azriel got back in the car alone and when Cassian turned to him to ask him where Elain was, he seemed upset.

"Everything alright?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm not going to talk about it."

Cassian exchanged a confused look with Rhysand through the mirror and when Elain got into the car looking just as upset, they fell silent.

Cassian sighed and held the steering wheel tighter. The evening was going to be interesting.

The ringing of a phone echoed in the cockpit.

"Mor and Amren are already at Nesta's -" said Rhys, "it seems they've already opened the wine."

Elain snorted, looking out the window with a severe glare. "Good, because we're going to need a lot of it tonight."

"A lot." Azriel repeated gritting his teeth, frowning even more.

Definitely interesting.

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[mishapeesha]

hello friends! i have decided to start writing a fanfiction (although I am......not that experienced with writing, but I will trY)

anyways! the pairing is obviously deancas, and since I’ve just written the first chapter, the tags will be limited until I further develop the story. The rating will change if needed, trigger warnings will be added if necessary, and so on!

the summary: 

A package is mailed to Castiel Novak, a 27 year old with unknowingly very limited knowledge on a certain aspect of his life. It’s filled with what seems like hundreds of letters all to him, a single person. Memories and confessions of love are penned within those letters. As time goes on, he feels drawn to the person on the other end and sets out to find them – and the letter’s inevitable true destination that ties the final loose end in Castiel's life.

ao3 link!: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625316/chapters/70161738

i would really appreciate any feedback, or just boosting this would be pretty cool too! 

for anyone that doesn’t wanna read on ao3, chapter 1 starts below!

September 18th, 1992

           Castiel’s chest bounced as he jogged down the stairs aligned in a wide spiral, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion as his doorbell buzzed repeatedly with barely a second in between every ring. He winced at the harsh sound of it, noticing how military-like it was in the way that the alarm went off. It was always a task of his to get it changed, but he never got the chance to. Either because he didn’t feel like it, or because his memory disallowed him to remember something as unimportant as a doorbell.  

           “Coming!” He called out to whoever bothered to show up at his house so early in the morning. Castiel paused beside the bookcase placed beside his door, glancing at the mirror in order to adjust the loose strands of hair that spiked in different directions with the frantic brush of his fingers. He let out a sigh as his gaze shifted towards the reflection of the wall clock behind him, seeing that it was barely 7:05 am. Just as he turned to face the door, that annoying noise rang in his ears once more. Maybe one day he’d go through with that mental task of changing the buzz to something more audibly pleasant.

           His fingers wrapped around the metal doorknob, and a click emerged as he swung the door open, being immediately met with a man who he had never seen in his life. His eyes quickly scanned over the man, noticing that he was in uniform, so he classified him as harmless. What damage could a mailman do? Hand him a letter and give him a papercut? Though there was a look on the mailman’s face that Castiel couldn’t quite place. He was torn between thinking it was some sort of discomfort towards Cas personally, or just general exhaustion because it could just be that he was tired. There wasn’t really anything enjoyable about driving to several homes, handing gifts to so many people while barely surviving off of minimum wage and receiving nothing in return.

           “Castiel Novak?” The man asked, shifting in his spot momentarily as he held a medium sized box underneath one arm, and a clipboard in the other hand. Castiel took note that his name was Thomas after noticing the nametag attached to the pocket on the fabric of his blouse.

           “Yes, that’s me.” Castiel replied, opening the door slightly more after feeling more comfortable to do so. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked past Thomas, wondering if anyone was following him, or if they were being watched. They seemed to be alone, so Cas stopped tapping his fingers against the wooden door, although he hadn’t realized that he began to do that in the first place. “Is there anything that you need of me?”

           “Well,” Thomas began with a nod. He cleared his throat and placed the clipboard in between his legs to use both of his hands, and then offered Cas the box he held. “We’ve had this in the office for a while now, but it was specified to be delivered on this day to this address, and to you.” He explained, biting his lower lip in what Cas took as some sort of minimal panic, or uneasiness. “The sender wishes to remain anonymous, however.” He added, as if it were nothing unusual.

           “Anonymous?” Castiel questioned and drew a frown onto his face. He shook his head and reverted back to closing the door, but he kept a smaller gap so that the two of them could still communicate. “I will not be accepting a box from someone who doesn’t wish that their identity is revealed. It could be anything, and I am not willing to risk my safety.” He deadpanned before he glanced down at the box, not trusting whatever was in it. Why would anyone refuse to mention their name unless they were someone dangerous and not to be messed with?

           Thomas stared at Cas for a few moments as he was now met with the confusion of what to do with the box now that the apparent receiver was blatantly rejecting it. He swallowed hard as an uncomfortable smile curled the corners of his mouth.

“Mr. Novak, I can assure you nothing that will hurt you is in this box. Not only is it very light, but it would also be a shame if this was thrown out. As I mentioned, this has been collecting dust in our office. It has been for the last four years.”

           Castiel froze at Thomas’ words, struck with surprise. He had absolutely no idea who sent the box, what was in the box, or why it was sent in the first place. Cas was Cas. The person he spoke to the most was his brother, and even then, he barely saw Gabriel to begin with. They spoke less and less as the years passed, and so Castiel was alone for the majority of the time. So, he couldn’t quite process how he had a package delivered to him, when he knew his brother barely had the energy to stop by his house for a quick hello. He was a generally distant individual. An outsider to himself, his family, and others.

This did not add up.

           “Four years you say?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked between Thomas and the box, earning a nod in reply. He sighed in defeat and once again, opened the door. “You really can’t tell me who sent it? Surely you must know.” Cas said, raising his eyebrow as he finally decided to take the box from Thomas’ hold. “It isn’t heavy.” He pointed out in confirmation to what Thomas previously stated, now more so curious to know what he was sent rather than worried.

           “I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sorry.” Thomas responded and rubbed the back of his neck before he remembered to pull the clipboard from between his legs. “Could you sign this, please?”

           Castiel took the pen and scribbled a random signature on the piece of paper, nodding at Thomas who offered a small smile at Cas. “Thank you.” He murmured quietly, clutching the box to his chest.

“Of course. Have a good day.”

           “And you as well.”

           A creak erupted from the door as Castiel let it close on itself, and eventually the atmosphere fell back into silence. But suddenly, he became almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t tell whether it was his actual heartbeat that he could hear, or if he was overhearing some rhythmic beat from his neighbor’s home nearby. And he definitely grew irritated at the loud ticking sound of the clock on the wall that seemed to follow him as he dragged himself through the hallway to the living room.

           The walls seemed to follow his every movement, making Cas feel judged and uneasy. And just for a moment, a sense of guilt rose in him. There was no source for it, yet there was some inexplainable physical tug to what Cas held in his hands, allowing negative emotions to faintly flood into him. He was convinced that his thoughts echoed off those same walls, as any word spoken in his mind just sounded too intense and loud in his ears.

           Cas sat down on the couch, sinking into the mattress as he leaned forward to place the box on the coffee table in front of him. His bottom lip became a victim of his anxious habits where his teeth would peel at the loose, dry skin, drawing blood that lightly pooled into his mouth and presented a metallic taste.

           “What could you be?” He spoke out loud to himself, picking at the loose thread poking out of the couch. He exhaled and used his nails to tear off the tape sealing the box shut. It looked like an average box, which made any assumptions as to what could be inside completely impossible to Cas. It’s not like he expected a bomb to be inside, but he also didn’t expect a proper gift. So, then what? What made a box so big, yet so light at the same time? What was so important that it absolutely had to be sent to Cas four years later?

           Once he managed to tear the seals off, he took in a deep breath. He didn’t know what he would be getting himself into, and yet he knew there was absolutely no way he’d be able to keep himself from looking inside. So, before he knew it or could hesitate, the box was opened, revealing the last thing Cas would have expected.

Letters.

Lots of them.

           “What the hell..?” He breathed out, flipping the box over so that the letters scattered out across the table. His eyes widened in both confusion and shock, and he immediately reached to pick one up. He examined the envelope: Clean, neat, and numbered with a bold 30 on it that was also in the colour of purple. There was no stamp. There was no name. Just a singular number, and nothing more than that.

Or it would be nothing more if he decided to keep the envelopes tightly secured.

Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it? Though at the same time, he really did have nothing to lose. A dance with death was the least of his current concerns.

By the look of things, it appeared as though there was a certain number of letters in the box, labeled from one to an unknown limit. For all that could be known, there could be fifty letters, a hundred, or a thousand. He doubted he’d read all of them, because what could possibly be so interesting that the writer thought it was imperative that Cas knew?

The bigger question was, who wrote them?

Castiel shuffled through the envelopes until he found the first numbered 1 in red. His mouth went dry, and his brain raced with questions that he had no answer to at all. He hated being blind to the truth, to be instead engulfed in a mystery, like his life was some sort of game. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know now. But given all that Cas was presented with, he knew it would be a long time before he knew what was actually going on. It could be days, weeks, months. All depending on how much Cas read, and how fast.

He fiddled with the letter in his hand, debating whether or not to open it. He had to. He could just read this one and throw the others out. And maybe he’d get the answers he needed in the first envelope, making it possible to ignore the others.

The paper ripped beneath his fingers, and soon enough, he held a paper in his hands. The first out of many.

Quickly, his eyes scanned over the words written, immediately blocking them out because he refused to jump too far in what was visibly so carefully put together. He wanted to take his time and appreciate the effort put into all of this. But he did take notice of the handwriting. It was a combination of neat and messy. Definitely readable, and a little too familiar. It was nice, simply put. But Cas could sense the desperation in the way the words were written. They were rushed, and well thought out of as well. Like whoever wrote knew what to say, just not how to say it.

Dear Castiel,

Knowing you, you’re probably freaked the hell out right now. And... Well, you should be.

Cas frowned and scoffed, rolling his eyes at the paper. Already, the letter was referring to him, and he had no idea about who was writing. Clearly, off to a great start.

Or not. Actually, don’t freak out. You don’t need that. Anyways…grab yourself that weird coffee that I know you like and get comfy.

What I’ve done here for you is write a hundred letters. Or I’m planning to, at least. Hopefully I commit to this. I guess if you’re reading this, I’ll have succeeded, so yay me, I guess. But I want you to really read them. To understand it all because there is so much that you don’t know. About me, about you, and more importantly, about us. I know you might be scared-

Castiel looked away and shook his head, setting the letter down on the table causing it to fold in on itself with how long it had been creased for. He rubbed his forehead and sighed, mumbling something incoherent underneath his breath. Not even halfway through the first letter, and Cas was already overwhelmed. Everything in him begged him to stop reading, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching back towards the piece of paper and picking it up once more. He was certain that would be a decision he would regret in the future.

-and that’s okay. Fear’s good. Sometimes, at least.

Please, hear me out, alright? I need you to keep an open mind. You gotta, man. Or else this won’t work. I don’t mean to put on a show and get all dramatic, but I need you to level with me. To feel with me, and to get angry and hurt whenever you feel like it. I need you to bust open your damn walnut, and pull me out of that chest that you’ve got stuffed in there somewhere.  

Cas, you may not know me now, but I know you.

I’m writing this on September 18th, 1988. We met five years go..I don't really know when you'll get this. Could be ten years from now. Guess we'll see.

I need you to remember.

Work that big ol’ brain of yours and try to not be the dumbass that you tend to be. It's my fault you're in your current situation, but you need to try. If not for me, then for you.

We haven't spoken in so long, Cas. And saying I miss you won't change a damn thing because you don't even know who I am, but I do miss you. And you can take that however you want for now, but you'll understand it all eventually. If you decide to actually go through with this and read all that I've written for you.

“Situation?” Castiel asked out loud, as if he’d get a response. Of course, he was met with silence. But he still had no idea what was happening. He didn’t know what any of this meant, but he did know this had the potential to ruin his entire life. In fact, it felt like everything started slowly tumbling down already.

And yes, he had nothing. But was it worth the loss?

I’ll tell you everything. No plot-holes, not shit-holes, or whatever. All I ask is that you read. It’s that simple.

That’s all for now. Sorry for the short first letter. I’ll see you soon.

-Dean W.

“Dean?” He whispered, and at that, his chest knotted tightly as he took in a shaky breath. He widened his eyes and wheezed, an uneasy feeling creeping its way up his chest. So, the writer had a name. One that Cas mentally did not recognize, but he physically did apparently.

What the hell did the "W" stand for? He didn't know. Or rather he couldn't remember, according to what the letters were saying.

He set the letter down and stared at the others, scratching at his arm as he eyed the unorganized mess that had now grounded him in his place. Out of all of the things he could have received that day, he just had to get what was probably the most confusing thing he had ever been confronted with.

The possibility of fault grew, and all Cas could do for now was allow himself to become engulfed in the non-existent voice of a series of letters that he was yet to understand, and so rightfully dreaded.

[lisyoaran]

We fill the gaps; You and Me make Three

Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, 3.9k words. Undercut.

link to (ao3) 

They find each other in between afternoons and mornings. In rooms only lit by the abundant stars and occasional moon, they come together. His hands trace her figure. Palms skate down her sides and smooth over the light fabric of the hoodie on her back. He squeezes her covered flesh between his hands, a reminder of sorts; she’s alive, she’s here, she’s real .

He can’t count the number of nights, during her time within her crystalized defense, that he’s dreamt of her. Every single one began the same way; him sleeping in his room. A hand over his naked chest, his breathing calm and measured, until the door to his room opens. The rickety old piece of wood would scrape against the floorboards. The sound would cause him to suddenly sit up and thoroughly rubs his eyes. When he opened them he’d see her, leaning sideways behind the door, half of her torso visible, her face hidden in the darkness, the only discernible thing about her appearance are her bangs. Her already pale hair looks doused in silver, because of the moonlight peeking through his windows.

‘Annie,’ he’d let out in disbelief. The whisper of her name on his lips, would make her slowly slither into his room, until her back was pressed against the closed door. Now her body fully bathed in the moonlight, he’d notice she wasn’t in the Military Police uniform she had crystalized with, but in a loose white nightgown that fluttered against her ankles. That should’ve been the first sign, but dreams are meant to be realities one wishes were true, so he’d will himself to believe that Annie was indeed in his room.

His heartbeat would pick up, the fingers that had been splayed over his bare chest would shake as his heart thumped loudly against his ribcage. Without a second thought, he’d push off the flimsy piece of fabric covering his lower half and push his legs to the bed. He’d watch her quietly as she made her way towards his bed, her body moving so mindfully; she’d remind him of what he had once read in a book. ‘Animal who are believed to be higher in the food chain tend to pursue their prey carefully, they do not wish to lose their means of survival and so they proceed with caution, creating a false sense of security before jumping in for the kill.’

But if she was the predator and he the prey, he foolishly admits, he’d gladly let her kill him. If it means he can see her ocean eyes flutter open again and her warm flesh on his fingertips, he’d gladly take a knife to the back or the death grip of the Female Titan.

After a couple of minutes of mindless thinking, Armin would be brought to his senses by a weight settling on his laps. Somehow while he was thinking about animals and the food chain, she had found her way towards him, with both of her knees on either side of his hips. His throat would go dry, his arms on his sides, hands gripping the sheets while her own hands remained near his collarbones. It felt almost as if she were back to being a statue, her whole being frozen, despite their position, a position she had initiated . Her head would also be slouched, hidden from his gaze. His left hand would then move slowly, cautiously with the intent of tilting her chin towards his face, so he could see her eyes, but within the second he’d reach her skin, he’d wake up in pants, his body cold and drenched in sweat,

A dream.

And yet tonight was real, and so were the last few nights-- Her right index traces his brow bone and he gazes up at her. Her eyes are as impassive as ever, hidden behind the countless strands of her light blonde hair, but he can see traces of concern within the silver. He tilts his head slightly to the left to catch her palm with his lips, he hopes she understands what he tells her;

Sorry I got distracted.

I’m here now,

Her soft pink lips twitch slightly before she bites down on her lower lip and turns away from his gaze.  He knows why they meet at night, because she can’t bear to see him in daylight. It’s not him , at least he hopes it isn’t. He thinks he knows why; the reason why Annie can’t bear to look at him during the day is the same as why he can’t stare at his own reflection for longer than a second.

When did you start looking at me like that?

But it’s not her asking him that this time. It’s himself. He sees himself standing before him. The other him, has his eyes and heart gouged out. He’s weeping blood, coughing it up until his white button down is drenched in it. His other self moves slightly towards him, and he flinches. Are you disgusted by all that we have done Armin, the reflection asks. Armin thinks there is a metaphor or some poetic meaning to that delusion of his. Maybe it’s guilt, for seeking the best in people that are beyond help, or in situations that are hopeless. Or maybe it's for being a hypocrite; preaching about peace and other ways to achieve goals that don’t end in bloodshed, all the while having killed thousands and eaten someone he once called comrade and friend.

But.

It’s not him , it’s his blood stained hands, he thinks, as his thumb and forefinger grasp her chin, and tilts her face towards his.

It’s how despite this, despite the blood clinging onto his fingers and crawling under his nails, his eyes portray the calm, and not the storm that he has caused. A false sense of comfort that he has implemented so deeply into his being, to forget the guilt, that it shows within his eyes.

So it’s not him, he tells himself even though he knows it kind of is. He leans his forehead and touches hers. She inhales sharply, and he breathes out ‘ I’m sorry,’ at the same time.

At his words she moves away from his touch and raises a brow. “What are you apologizing for?” She asks, her voice softer than it has ever been, but still with a threatening edge. He chuckles, embarrassed. His cheeks feel hot, he doesn’t know if it’s because of the concern she has for him or the stern tone of her voice.

He lifts the hand that isn’t clinging onto her waist to his eyes, and tells her. “I am sorry for being a hypocrite.” At her words her brows pull themselves together, and he mentally slaps himself at the image before him. All he wanted was to soothe her worries and yet here he is making her feel even more anxious. These nights are meant to be silent, a way for them to map out each other without being forced to deal with the unsaid and yet here he was saying what should remain unsaid.

All he wants to do is touch the tense area between her brows softly, and trace her lips with his own, but he knows he’s opened a door that cannot be closed until they’ve somewhat aired out all that had been brewing within both of their souls.

She clears her throat before asking him why exactly he thinks that he is a hypocrite. His shoulders tense up, and she must feel it because her grip on them suddenly becomes a bit tighter. She’s fighting to keep him from drifting away.

“I, Annie...I am not a good person.” He tells her, his voice barely a whisper. He hears her let out a soft chuckle, “If you aren’t a good person, then I might as well be the Devil , Armin.”

Armin’s eyes widened at her words. He knew how she had never forgiven herself for all the bloodshed she had caused; he saw it in the way she flinched when Mikasa would touch her arm, a touch meant to be comforting would have her recoiling, as if she had been burned. He saw it in the way she refused politely to join him or the others during simple outdoor tasks or activities (not his idea, but Levi’s, for some reason their ex-captain is hellbent on having them spend quality time together).

He feels her shift, her face once again turning away from his own. Her eyes become focused on how the moonlight splays against his collarbones. The quietness that has settled between them isn’t uncomfortable per say, but he still fights to find the right words to say, because he has to make her believe that she is not the Devil she claims to be and he, not the pacifist Saint, most see him as.

Slowly he moves the hand that had been covering his eye towards her face. His palm cups her cheek. Unconsciously, Annie leans into his touch, and he feels a warmth bloom within his chest, his face softens. “Annie,” he says, his voice, soft, trying to coax her to look at him.

“Remember how I told you I didn’t like the term ‘ good person’? I meant that.” He says while brushing his thumb against her cheek. If he weren’t so close to her face he probably wouldn’t have noticed how her brows furrowed for a millisecond. “I do.” She says after a beat.

She tucks her nose into his shirt and inhales deeply, her arms now enlaced around his torso, her fingers crawling across his back to grasp his shoulder blades. The action takes him by surprise, he stiffens, as the hand that had been holding her cheek finds itself suddenly frozen midair.

Before she can second guess herself (something he knows she’s quite fond of unfortunately), he places his hand on her arm, rubbing circles onto it to soothe her anxiety away. Her breathing is slow and measured, and he takes that as a sign to tilt his head sideways and lay his cheek on the top of her head.

It’s quite comforting, and more intimate than anything she and they have ever done. They’ve kissed, touched and groped many times before and yet nothing could compare to the warmth she felt right now, in his embrace.

“We are not good people,” She hears his muffled voice. She flinches at ‘We,’ because she knows she isn’t, but to hear the words tumble out from his lips causes a different kind of pain. She knows he’s a master in deception, hell, she’s been at its mercy, but she also knows he’s incredibly honest when he needs to be.

He must feel her hurt, because in the next instant, he’s moving her away from his chest and grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She casts her eyes down, she doesn’t think she can bear to look at him in the eyes, even if the darkness clouds most of the emotions within them.

“A good person, seems to mean any one person, who is only good for you, and I don’t think there is anyone who is good for everyone.” He tells her softly, and Annie recalls the same words from the time he had confronted her after the 57th expedition.

“Annie…” His voice is hoarse, “please look at me.” Her heart thunders against her chest, she’s scared. She can’t. Not when his eyes will show her the truth, show her just how much of a monster she is.

Armin doesn’t insist again, instead lets the plea hang in between them. He knows why they meet at night. Darkness clouds vision.

Light offers too much of a window into each other’s souls; and Armin knows that she cannot look at him just as much he can’t look into her own eyes. But he also knows that he cannot live a life without being by her side or a life where she cannot forgive herself.

He resolves to tell her, even if she isn’t looking at him because he knows how much they both need to hear the truth.

His thumb and forefinger stay at her chin as he begins talking again but she doesn’t move her eyes away from the buttons at the bottom of his shirt. “We have killed countless.” He says before stopping as if he had just stepped on a twig that would unleash a beast onto him.

“Comrades, children, parents, daughters, sons, lovers,” she notes the way he whispers the last word. “We are not good people, because we haven’t been good to many people, we have killed their flesh, torn their bones.” He continues.

As he takes in a deep breath he sends the hand not holding her chin, behind his back, to grab one of the hands she has splayed on his back. His grasp is rough, prying, at first she doesn’t understand why, but then realizes that she had been unconsciously clinging onto him. Pushing his thumb into her palm, he brings her hand between them and leans towards her, his back curving in a way she knows must be uncomfortable. The springs in the old mattress under them creak as he moves his rear closer to the edge in order to accommodate this new position.

She feels him wobble a bit, but doesn’t move away, because she knows he’s got her, and even if he didn’t she’d just drag him down to the ground with her.

His thumb draws circles into her palm slowly as the tip of nose buries itself in her bangs. “We both have blood on our hands, and there’s nothing we can do about that.”

She lets out a shaky breath as the fingers within his grasp twitch. He continues, “I understand why you can’t look at me Annie, and I think you understand why I can’t look at you, and most in the eyes either, too.”

And she does, well maybe, she’s not sure why Armin would look away from anyone, when he’s almost the physical embodiment of the Sun, so she keeps quiet.

Armin takes her silence as a cue to continue, but the words get stuck in throat when he’s reminded once again of the dreams he’s had of her, unwillingly, he lets out a chuckle. Her head jumps at the sound, he’s met with her eyes, finally. He cannot believe that it took a little laugh from him to make her look at him, and not all the words that had been pouring out from his heart, but then again Annie is never predictable, and he loves her for it.

He takes this as an opportunity to straighten his back and adjust his grasp on her chin, he doesn’t ever want her to look away. He sees her lips part, eyes widen but before she can say anything, a groan falls from his lips. “Man, that was not the best thing for my back,” he says with a dry laugh, as he slowly lets go of the hand he had been holding to go soothe the ache in his back. He’s met with her own hand, pushing three of her fingers with force at the dip of his back. His eyes soften at the action. Annie feels her cheeks heat up under his gaze, she tries to turn her face to the side, but before she can, his grasp on her chin becomes a bit more forceful, not hard or painful, but just enough to tell her that he does not want her to move anymore.

Her hand stays on his back while he brings his hand to her face, his thumb glides from her brow bone to the corner of lips, and now she can’t tear her eyes away even if his gaze is eating up her heart. He looks at her so earnestly. With such open adoration, that she can’t breathe. How does one look at a monster like that? She thinks.

His hand now cups her cheek fully, “Hey Annie, are you still with me?” She must’ve dozed off, because his eyes are now filled with slight concern, she nods slowly, still looking into his eyes. He gives her a kind smile before taking a strand of hair between two fingers and twirling it.

“Why did you laugh?” She asks, because she is actually curious, and she can’t lie, she wishes to hear the genuine content sound again.

He smiles at her then, his eyes crinkling, teeth showing, and she wishes suddenly that there was more light in the room, so she could capture the scene and stash it deep within her mind, for darker days.

“I, uh-” he begins, “I’ve dreamed of you. I’ve dreamed of us, in a similar position as we are in right now.” She looks at him, and she must’ve looked threatening because in the next instant he’s stammering up apologies. “It was never lewd, I wouldn’t dare.” He says as his gaze drops from her eyes. She surprises herself by sending the hand that wasn’t on his back to his cheek, to tilt his head back towards hers. His eyes widen and his mouth opens, she nods, “Go on.”

He tells her, with his eyes staring into hers, that in these dreams, dreams he had for years, she would come to him during the night, with moonlight shining down on their features. And how she’d make her way to his lap in these dreams. She raises her left brow at the image, and once again he tells her ‘never lewd.’

“But I could never touch you, in these dreams.” He tells her. “I couldn’t make you look at me, I wanted to see you.” She hears the frustration in his voice, and sees it in the way his brows knit together, her eyelids drop. “What did you want to see?”

“I wanted to see you for who you were. All your sins and all your scars, because in the end we were- we are , similar, I believe you’re good while you don’t and you think I am admirable when I believe the opposite. And, he stops, I know it all seems paradoxical when laid out in front of us, but I feel like despite what we see in each other, you can see through me like no one else.”

She takes in his words, because it's a lot. They’ve never discussed this much about their feelings, burdens or the blood staining their fingers before. She understands him though, what he means. She always has, even during their training days, she remembers wanting to learn more about him, a boy with hope and kindness in his eyes, a kindness that did not waver even when he had cornered her after finding out she was the Female Titan. She knew he had seen horrid things, his comrades dying left and right and yet he remained somewhat hopeful, and she wished to see him, all of it, the bravery, the deception and also see him sag down in exhaustion, see him not be kind, because she knew he must feel a tremendous amount of pressure from guilt and the expectations set by his predecessors.

“Armin, I look at you admirably, because you are admirable.” His eyes widen as his mouth parts in protest, but she silences him with an index to his lips. “But, that doesn’t mean that’s all I see, I also see guilt, I see the uncertainty and fear of being a burden to others. I can’t control the way I look at you, or how I feel about you, but know this, I know that there is much more to you than the peacemaker and Colossal weapon most see you as.”

His shoulders sag in relief, and she lets herself take a breath, before her nerves finally give in. She takes refuge in the crook of his neck. She’s grateful that he doesn’t ask her to look at him again, instead the hand on her chin moves against her back, back and forth.

He pushes his nose into her hair and inhales deeply, “and you Annie, are much more than the Devil you see yourself as; you are a daughter, a strong-minded, caring and kind person, I wish you understood and saw what I see, but like I said we are both knee deep in our sins to believe what others say about us.”

“But I want you to understand that when I look at you, I am not undermining or ignoring your sins and struggles, I acknowledge them and take them into my heart because I love you,  all of you, and you can do with that what you will.” He finishes.

She stiffens as tears begin spilling out from the corner of her eyes, she doesn’t know why, but she lets them fall. They wet his button down, and if he notices he doesn’t say anything, only lets her let herself crawl deeper into the warmth he’s created.

When she thinks she’s cried enough, she slowly moves away from his neck. Her face must be a mess, she knows her eyes most likely a bit swollen, and her cheeks covered in tears, her nose is runny but he still looks at her like she’s some type of fucking constellation she knows he’s read about and rambled happily about to his friends.

“Do you always talk to the girls you take to bed, to death Arlert?” She asks in hiccups as she pushes the sleeve of her hoodie to her nose to wipe it. He lets out a small laugh before cupping her face in both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away any tears left. “Only the ones I love, now let's get this off of you yeah?” He says as he tugs slightly at the hoodie that now has a sleeve covered in snot.

Not her proudest moment she’ll admit, but she forgets her embarrassment somewhat when she feels his hands glide up her bare back. Her own hands come to the back of his head, her nails gliding over his undercut and her fingers tangling themselves into his hair.

She tilts her hips upwards as he begins to trace a path down her throat with his nose, “I love you,” she says finally, and he smiles into her skin. “I sure hope you do, I don’t think my poor little heart could handle a little white lie, from little miss Annie.”

She groans in annoyance at his words and nickname, before moving her hands to his chest to unbutton his shirt. When she’s done with his last button, they both rush to push off the garment. Her hands move down his back, which is firmer, still lean but now also with much more mass than before. His hands grip her thighs as he moves them fully on the bed. His arms find themselves on each side of her head, holding him up above her. His face looks down on her, hair slipping in front of his eyes. And she wants to see him, so she pushes herself onto her elbows and pushes her left hand horizontally against his hair, until she can see his eyes, brows and hairline. “We need to get you some hair clips, Arlert.” She says with a giggle.

“Is that so?” He asks he lowers one arm, now leaning onto his elbow too, while sending the other arm to slither down her back. She takes her free hand and places an index to her cheek, false contemplating. “Hm, that and matches, because I want to see you.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out, as if he’s shocked at her statement. “Yeah.” She confirms, with a shy smile.

“I can arrange that,” he says before sealing his lips over hers.

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

História

A/N #1: Finally! Fic number 3 of the Brazil series! I apologize for the wait. Let’s just say that stuff happened after I posted the second fic of the series that kinda zapped my creativity. Anyway, now I am back! 

Hottest Spot South of Havana (Part 1, Part 2) |  A Wonderful Surprise

Word count: ≈3000

Alice’s outfit

Alice could perceive the sunlight through her closed eyelids, but she didn’t want to open them just yet. Wanting to enjoy the warmth of the bed some more, she turned around, thinking her pillow felt firmer than she remembered. Her nose detected a familiar smell that reminded her of the sweater she slept in during cold winter nights at Hogwarts. Her boyfriend’s sweater. Charlie’s smell…

Charlie!

Her eyes opened up at that realization, landing on a sleeping freckled face with messy longish red hairs framing it. What was she doing in the same bed as Charlie? Where was Penny? In fact, where exactly was she? She did not recognize the room she was in as she quickly glanced around. As her mind was going at lightning speed, trying to remember how she ended up here, she looked under the covers. Thank Merlin, they still had their pyjamas on. Lost in those thoughts, she felt the pillow underneath her head shift slightly. She soon realized the “pillow” was actually Charlie’s shoulder, and as she slowly looked up towards his face, her green eyes met his warm brown eyes.

“Good morning,” said Charlie.

Alice stared at him, silent, her eyes wide.

“Why are you…?” started asking Charlie before being hit by a realization. He smirked. “You don’t remember how you ended up in my bed, do you?”

Alice shook her head, still staring at her boyfriend.

“Well, you missed my body so much, you just couldn’t help yourself…” started saying Charlie biting his lower lip to stifle a laugh he could feel coming as he saw Alice’s cheeks turn pink.

“What?!” exclaimed Alice, sitting up in the bed holding her face. “Oh, Merlin! They won’t stop teasing after…” She then heard Charlie’s laughter behind her. “Charlie Weasley!” she exclaimed, grabbing the pillow underneath his arm. “How dare you scare me like that?!” she added, throwing the pillow at Charlie’s face.

Charlie barely dodged the pillow as he sat up, still chuckling. “Sorry, it was just too easy, and you’re so cute when you blush,” he said, hugging her and giving her rosy cheek a small peck.

“Honestly, though, how did I end up here?”

“I was sleepy myself when you joined me, but if I remember, you were woken up by Tonks and Tulip getting ready for their hiking expedition, and I think you weren’t able to go back to sleep because of the racket they were making. So you came here,” explained Charlie.

“Oh… Yeah… I remember now. Tonks tripped over an ottoman in the living room; Tulip burst out laughing, followed by Tonks; Dennis escaped Tulip’s pocket, so they started looking all over the room for him while Penny and I just watched. I vaguely remember Penny suggesting I go over to your room since the boys were already waiting outside, so it would be peaceful,” said Alice, scratching her head.

“Feeling you cuddle up to me was a nice way to go back to sleep,” said Charlie, kissing the top of her head. “Are you sure you want to go to the museum today? I wouldn’t mind spending the day in bed with you,” his lips brushing against her neck.

“Charlie!” exclaimed Alice, scooting away from him. “Penny and Andre are probably out there waiting for us!”

“And it looks like Andre brought your outfit in here while we were sleeping,” said Charlie, noticing clothes neatly laid out on the armchair close to the window.

“All the more reason to not make them wait with… whatever you had in mind. They could come in at any moment.”

“Fine,” said Charlie as he started to remove his t-shirt.

Alice let out a small gasp as she backed away some more, only to find out she had reached the edge of the bed. She fell backward, the little thump it made alerting Charlie. He turned around and saw Alice’s ankles and feet above the bed.

“Alice, are you…?” 

Before he could finish his sentence, Alice raised a thumbs up to indicate she was okay, making the both of them laugh. They quickly got dressed, Alice using magic to get her hair into a braid. 

“I’m surprised Andre picked out the overall for the museum. When we were in Paris, he wanted to dress me in couture when we went to the Louvres,” said Alice as they left the bedroom.

“That’s because I know you and also because I thought we might walk around where the museum is after visiting it,” said Andre, who was sitting on the couch, sipping his cup of coffee.

“How… how long have you been sitting there?” asked Alice, frozen in place.

“Since I’ve been done with breakfast on the terrace with Penny,” said Andre, nodding towards the open doors leading to the terrace where Penny was still sitting, reading a book. “You know, I could get used to this lifestyle,” added Andre as he got up, placing his empty cup on the saucer on the marble top of the coffee table.

“We know,” said Alice and Charlie in unison.

“The two lovebirds have decided to join us?” asked Penny as she closed the doors of the terrace behind her.

“Seems like it,” said Andre as he held the door of the suite for Penny, Alice sticking her tongue at her Hufflepuff friend.

Alice and Charlie walked a few steps behind them as they made their way to the elevator.

“Good thing you didn’t give in to me earlier,” whispered Charlie.

Alice simply nodded, her eyes on their two friends waiting for them next to the lift.

After arriving at the Museu Histórico Nacional, they made their way to the inner courtyard, where carriages, probably used by the nobility back during the colonization and the Empire periods, were on display. Andre seemed to find them quite interesting as he stopped to look at them in detail, Penny staying with him as Alice and Charlie walked inside.

They slowly made their way around the permanent exhibits, which seemed to be divided into three periods: pre-colonization, colonization, and independence. The pre-colonization rooms mostly had native artifacts and prehistoric cave paintings. The rooms that pertained to the colonization period contained portraits of Iberian royals, including an equestrian depiction of Philip II of Spain, who ruled during part of the Iberian Union period between Spain & Portugal. There were also displays showing the extent of slavery in the colony as it was a big part of the economy back in those days.

“What’s slavery?” asked Charlie as they passed miniature models representing the slave trade.

Alice stopped in her tracks, turning around. “You don’t know? Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised. Grand-papa always said wizards live in a bubble. Well, in general, slaves are human beings that are owned by other human beings, and they are treated like property and traded as such. They have no rights. Slavery has existed for centuries, but back during the colonization period, Africans were taken by Europeans as slaves and were used in the colonies as cheap labour. That’s a very succinct summary of it.”

“How awful! Why would Muggles do that?”

“Greed? But it’s not like wizards are perfect. While a majority of house-elves love doing their work and find the idea of compensation insulting, the way some families treat them is… despicable,” said Alice, frowning, as she turned back and walked into the next room, Charlie following her.

They eventually reached the rooms that covered Brazil’s independence period, starting with a life-sized statue of Emperor Pedro I and the text of his acceptance letter to stay in Brazil in the early 1800s, marking the beginning of the country's independence period. There were also paintings representing naval military scenes, one of which seemed to have caught Charlie’s attention as he stood there, looking at it.

Alice, noticing he wasn’t close to her anymore, walked over to him to see what could be so fascinating about that painting. “Are there any dragons?” she said, a small smirk raising the corner of her mouth.

“What? No,” he said with a small chuckle. “No, it’s just most paintings we’ve seen so far represented daytime scenes, but this one is a nighttime scene. There’s something… enchanting about it, I guess, with only the moonlight illuminating the scene.”

“How poetic of you, Charlie Weasley,” said Alice, her lips forming a tender smile. 

“I have my moments,” said Charlie, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“But you’re right. The moonlight does have something magical. This reminds me… You know the book I was reading yesterday at the lovely library you brought me to?”

“The Brazilian fairytales one? Yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Well, there was this story about how night came.”

“It comes when the sun goes down, no?”

“Well, yes, but it’s a story about how the phenomenon that is night came to be, because at the very beginning of time, the story said, it was day all the time. There was no night.”

“Really? And how does it explain the arrival of night?” asked Charlie as they sat on the bench near the nighttime scenery.

“Well, the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, who dwelt in the depths of the seas, married a human,” started Alice. “She left her home among the shades of the deep seas and came to live with her husband on earth, in the land of daylight. Because she wasn’t used to that much daylight, her eyes grew weary of the bright sunlight and her beauty faded. That saddened her husband, as he did not know what to do.

“‘O, if night would only come,’ she moaned as she tossed about wearily on her couch. ‘Here it is always day, but in my father’s kingdom, there are many shadows. O, for a little of the darkness of night!’

“Her husband listened to her and asked, ‘What is night? Tell me about it, and perhaps I can get a little of it for you.’

“‘Night,’ said the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, ‘is the name we give to the heavy shadows which darken my father’s kingdom in the sea. I love the sunlight of your earth land, but I grow very tired of it. If we could have only a little of the darkness of my father’s kingdom to rest our eyes part of the time.’

“Her husband quickly called his three most faithful slaves. ‘I am about to send you on a journey,’ he told them. ‘You are to go to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent who lives in the depths of the seas and ask him to give you some of the darkness of night so that his daughter may not die here amid the sunlight of our land.’

“The three slaves made their way to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent. After a long, perilous journey, they arrived at his home in the depths of the seas and asked him to give them some of the shadows of night to carry back to the earth. The Great Sea Serpent gave them a big bag full at once. It was securely fastened, and the Great Sea Serpent warned them not to open it until they were once more in the presence of his daughter, their mistress.”

“I have a feeling they didn’t listen,” interrupted Charlie.

“You would be correct. So, the three slaves started out, bearing the big bag full of night upon their heads, but they soon heard strange sounds within the bag. It was the sound of the voices of all the night beasts, all the night birds, and all the night insects. It sounded like the night chorus from the jungles on the banks of the rivers to give you an idea. But as night was something no one had ever experienced on land, the three slaves had never heard sounds like those in all their lives. They were terribly frightened.

“‘Let us drop the bag full of night right here where we are and run away as fast as we can,’ said the first slave.

“‘We shall perish. We shall perish, anyway, whatever we do,’ cried the second slave.

“‘Whether we perish or not, I am going to open the bag and see what makes all those terrible sounds,’ said the third slave.”

“Oh, Merlin…” interjected Charlie.

“So,” continued Alice, “they laid the bag on the ground and opened it. Out rushed all the night beasts and all the night birds and all the night insects and out rushed the great black cloud of night. The slaves were more frightened than ever at the darkness and escaped to the jungle.

“The daughter of the Great Sea Serpent was waiting anxiously for the return of the slaves with the bag full of night. Ever since they had started out on their journey, she had looked for their return, shading her eyes with her hand and gazing away off at the horizon, hoping with all her heart that they would arrive quickly to bring the night. In that position, she was standing under a royal palm tree when the three slaves opened the bag and let night escape. ‘Night comes. Night comes at last,’ she cried, as she saw the clouds of night upon the horizon. Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep there under the royal palm tree.

“When she awoke, she felt greatly refreshed. She was once more the happy princess who had left her father’s kingdom in the depths of the great seas to come to the land. She was now ready to see the day again. She looked up at the bright star shining above the royal palm tree and said, ‘O, bright, beautiful star, from now on you shall be called the morning star, and you shall herald the approach of day. You shall reign queen of the sky at this hour.’

“Then she called all the birds about her and said to them, ‘O, wonderful, sweet singing birds, henceforth I command you to sing your sweetest songs at this hour to herald the approach of day.’ The cock was standing by her side. ‘You,’ she said to him, ‘shall be appointed the watchman of the night. Your voice shall mark the watches of the night and shall warn the others that the madrugada comes.’ To this very day in Brazil, we call the early morning the madrugada. The cock announces its approach to the waiting birds. The birds sing their sweetest songs at that hour, and the morning star reigns in the sky as queen of the madrugada.

“Once it was daytime again, the slaves came out of their hiding place. Their master turned them into monkeys for having disobeyed the Great Sea Serpent by not opening the bag only in the presence of his daughter. To this very day, one sees the mark upon the monkeys’ lips, where they bit off the wax which sealed the bag; and in Brazil, night leaps out quickly upon the earth just as it leapt quickly out of the bag in those days at the beginning of time. And all the night beasts and night birds and night insects give a sunset chorus in the jungles at nightfall.”

“Wait… Did a Muggle really write that? There are a lot of elements in there that seem magical,” pointed out Charlie, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, most Muggle fairytales have magical elements. It’s like they know about us and our world without really knowing… Like when you heard The Sorcerer’s Apprentice at the Proms. You said how the music really fit the feeling of magic, even though a Muggle composed it. Perhaps people can feel it without realizing it, and some things we see in their tales come from the days when Muggles knew more about us, but now that knowledge is viewed as pure fantasy instead of truth,” said Alice, her eyes brightening.

“Maybe… Wait, aren’t sea serpents a type of dragon?” asked Charlie, smiling broadly.

“Hmm? Oh, hum, yes, I think so, but you’re the expert on the matter,” said Alice, her eyes on the painting, but her thoughts on something else.

“So based on that story, we have nights because of a dragon?”

Alice stared at him, quirking her eyebrows. “I guess so…”

“Cool,” said Charlie, nodding his head in satisfaction.

Alice shook her head slightly, biting her lower lip to avoid laughing. Of course, the dragon would be the one thing to stick with Charlie. Lost in their respective thoughts, neither of them noticed Penny and Andre making their way to them.

“There you are!” exclaimed Penny, standing in front of them, her hands on her hips.

“I am starving,” said Andre, holding his stomach.

“Sorry, we didn’t see the time,” said Alice, as she got up with Charlie.

Penny rolled her eyes, smirking. “You two don’t seem to notice the time go by when you’re together.”

“Shut up,” mumbled Alice, taking a hold of Penny’s arm.

“Did you know that there’s a story that says a dragon is the reason we have nights,” said Charlie as he walked in front of them with Andre.

“Ok, maybe in Charlie’s case, it’s when dragons are involved that he forgets about the concept of time,” whispered Penny, making Alice snort with laughter.

After eating lunch at the museum’s café, they looked at the other exhibits before returning to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon was spent around the pool as they waited for their friends, Charlie wanting to tell Barnaby about the dragon story. Alice stared at the same page of her book all that time, her mind still on fairytales and their origin...

A/N #2: Thank you for reading my fic! I hope you enjoyed it! Now, before someone comments one what Alice says regarding house-elves, I based it on this article. The fairytale Alice tells is from HERE and the painting that catches Charlie’s attention is THIS ONE.  The reason the title is “História” is because in Portuguese, it means both “history” and “story,” which I felt worked with the story. Feel free to leave a comment, including constructive criticism.